Chapter 3
They were all very, very odd.
Very odd.
Damien couldn’t figure out the pack’s mentality on things, much less why they did it; ever since he first awoke, Marinette’s mother, Sabine, took it upon herself to station Damien temporarily in Marinette’s bedroom while she and her husband, Tom, fixed up a storage room they had.
When he had attempted to reassure the trio that the couch was fine, there had been a fiercely resounding no. He would get his own room, while they settled getting things done. In the meantime, he would be in Marinette’s room, resting on the chaise that had no business being as comfortable as it was, in a room far more bubbly than he ever thought he would see.
Who even needed this much pink?
Speaking of the omega, she had been the one to take charge over him over the course of the week. She would be there to ensure he took his medication, helped him to serve himself food, brought him bottles of water to drink, even sewed him clothes. Even if he didn’t voice it out loud, she was an extremely talented seamstress. Titus enjoyed having a park close by for the walks Tom or Marinette and himself took him on, and Alfred had firmly claimed the chaise whenever he had vacated it along with the cat bed Marinette created from soft felt material.
Yes, they were an odd sort.
...He did not wish to admit it, to himself and especially out loud, but something in him…eased in the new environment. Had he been younger, far more brash, he would detest the very place he stood, felt he was above such people and refuse their acts of pity.
But he was not the foolish pup from long ago, and he HAD grown into his own sensibilities. He still felt woefully out of his element amongst Bakers and a small-time Designer, but…but it felt nice?
Would nice be the correct word?
Either way, there was a certain part of him, a part he had no inkling where it emerged, that found comfort in the older girl. Her scent was soothing in a way Sabine and Tom’s weren’t, even if those comforted him in his time of ailment as well. He felt more like a pup in her presence, ALLOWED to be a pup in her presence.
He had come during her allotted time of Winter Break for the winter festivities, and-although ill-she bundled him up with clothes she had already fabricated and helped him to explore Paris.This was not his first instance in the City of ‘Love’. He had been here for other business, years ago, under the tutelage of his trainer. He had eliminated an unwanted politician that day, who had been too greedy in their dealings with The League.
He felt a tug to keep to her side, Obviously, she cannot keep an eye out for herself for dangers, surely she realizes how dangerous the city she lives in was? It was a nest of numerous crimes!
He felt a rumble in his chest whenever she sang him that lullaby, scratchy as it was from disuse, She had to cease her naive ways, surely someone of his talents would’ve harmed her by now? He needed to help her learn better.
Sometimes she would talk and tell him about Paris.
And remind him of the largest oversight ANY of the heroes he had known about had missed. How in all the hells did they miss a terrorist of laughable proportions? How had they missed the almost full on BAN of tourism in a hotspot for it?
Damien…wasn’t too sure if he should inform his current hosts not pack, no, he wouldn’t allow the mere thought. They were kind but they wouldn’t- about his past and why they found him. He knew his way of speaking likely gave way to his upbringing, but they made no push to ask.
Another truly baffling thing: they never asked him for anything but basic courtesy and civility.
It had been a mere week and he felt…content.
Now if only she would allow him to eliminate that rat of a would-be-feline.
Chat Noir was quickly gaining his ire.