did i see sirens go flying past? ( kara )
You can’t even say how long it’s been happening—since the beginning, you guess.
It isn’t every night, but it’s often enough that you can feel the worry radiating from Sao—the prickle of concern that bunches at the back of his neck, and pulses through you like a phantom pain. He doesn’t do worry, not usually, but for some reason he reserves it for these nights, when you linger unsurely in the air outside the penthouse of National City’s grandest apartment building. He weaves through your cape, silently admonishing you, but never actually trying to stop you. Just lingers close, bristling with worry, and tugging at his own cape with quick paws.
“You know how I feel about this,” he says one night, or maybe it’s every night—though not every night, just every night you come here.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” you reply, sighing heavily and refraining from using any super-human abilities to peer past brick and steel to see what the occupants of the penthouse are up to.
“You’re seeking her out,” he exhales ears swiveling this way and that as he lifts himself, so that you’re eye to eye—you’ve pressed your faces together in front of a mirror often when you were a child. Giggling in excitement at how identical your eyes are. Blue, and blue, and purple—you know those strange little specks belong to Sao, they’re his mark on you, his claim—that was how the people of Krypton saw it. Zor El’s blonde heathen, and her little floating kharroup—though, you suppose on earth the closest equivalent would be rat.
Here, no one wonders about what the connection means—between a person and their daemon.
“Ugh, I’m not seeking her out,” you mimic his deep timber, the one that he hides when he’s pretending to be Kara Danvers’s daemon; because it resonates, you don’t feel it in your bones like everyone else, but you see how people react when he plucks them from burning buildings or toppling cars. “I’m just—checking on them. See? Them, not her—as in Carter, Cadeau—,” now, you grin slyly at him, and his ears flatten, already not liking where this is going, “—and Meraviglia.”
You aren’t sure if daemon’s are supposed to blush, you don’t even know if it’s possible, but Sao sputters, losing a little altitude, and the stardust flicking off the tip of his tail goes from white and silver, to something almost pink. “And why would I care about that—that mongrel?” He huffs, voice far too high, almost a squeak, and you’re grinning because you know you’re right.
Sao is your second half—no, that isn’t right—because that would somehow hint that he’s separate to you in some way. No, you feel his heart jackhammering away inside his small chest, you feel the tingle at the pads of his paws where he’s snagged your cape in annoyance—you feel his emotions buzz through him like a wind thrown through a street of skyscrapers. Loud, and strong, and only growing stronger. You know he’s feeling caution now, because you’re too tired too—you know he’s worried because your bones ache, and your mind is sluggish—because you only want someone who cares, who’s familiar.
He wants those things too—so much—but maybe he’s the stronger of you.
Maybe his heart can stagger along alone for just a while more.
“You care,” you tell him, absolutely sure, because you know how your heart drums when you see Meraviglia’s bond mate, just as Sao’s speeds up whenever he sees her fox. You’re a pair of idiots, but that knowledge only keeps you away on the nights that you aren’t burning at both ends, that you don’t long for someone that you can’t have.
Sao doesn’t get a chance to answer, because the glass door of the balcony slides open and you both drop twenty feet like you’re somehow going to fool someone that you weren’t there. There’s a silence, and then a long suffering sigh that you can only hear because your ears are pricking for any indication that the ruse was up—Saoviz’s are too, pressed forward, pretending like he hadn’t latched onto your chest in surprise, still sitting in the cradle of your arms.
“Does that ever actually work?” You hear, and it lets you relax a little because it’s Meraviglia, and not Cat, but Sao is rapidly shaking his head. You can feel how his heart hammers against yours from where you’re chest to chest, but you’re properly brash when you have the cape on and ascend the twenty feet before he can untangle himself from you.
“Good evening, Mister Grant,” you say, hands on hips and cape billowing properly, “How’re you tonight?” You try to tell yourself that you aren’t trying to impress the fox, but you are.
“Oh, I’ve been having a lovely night,” he drawls, all nine of his tails flicking and swishing behind him, paws up on the rail, long graceful muzzle set down on them. Burning crimson eyes stare at you in amusement, and you’re pinned, because even though he radiates heat, there’s always something cool about the fox. “Until I saw a flying rodent outside, and thought I might have to call an exterminator.”
Sao huffs, indignant as he flashes forward to land on the railing just to the ninetale’s side. A mug that is utterly adorable under any circumstance somehow screwing up into an animal frown, blue-purple eyes narrowing, “I’m not a rodent,” he seethes, his long tail snapping in annoyance, but you know it isn’t a very deep feeling, because you only feel scrapes of it—if anything, there’s an excitement in him. “I’m a deadly combination of swiftness and force.”
Looks like you aren’t the only one trying to impress Meraviglia tonight.
“Oh no, I’m a-quiver with fear,” the daemon say wryly, before turning red eyes away from the bristling Saoviz, and onto you. He considers you, and you’ve always gotten the impression that while he bickers and snarks with Sao until they’re both frowning and tense—he likes you, both versions of you. There’s a calm coolness about him that makes you want to be in his presence, and some logical part of you knows that it’s probably because he needs to balance Cat Grant—who is all fire, and temper, and passion.
“Hard night?” He asks, with all the knowledge of what kind of night it was—you’d seen the CatCo helicopter lingering just at the edge of the fight. The alien you’d been fighting had been made up of what seemed to be glass, and it had taken a lot longer than usual to subdue him—he’d been angry about something, and had apparently decided that pummeling you into the ground was a good outlet for that anger. You didn’t agree, but then again, he didn’t ask.
“I’d say,” you hedge, feet touching down on the railing, before you hop off and land on the outdoor carpet that covers most of the cement. Meraviglia lowers himself onto all fours, and Sao scoffs and shoots off into the distance, acting like he isn’t lingering on the roof keeping watch. You’ve spent a lot of nights on this balcony, seeking out those that live here, and more often than not, if you come by too late, Cat’s already gone to sleep, and Mera’s here to keep you company. He never asks why you come here, or why you stay once you learn Cat’s not awake, he just—keeps you company.
It isn’t more than a half-hour later that you’re lying on your back, looking out at the sky beyond the awning that covers the balcony. Mera’s stretched out behind you, not even commenting when your head ends up on his side, face pressed into his soft fur and the majority of his tails flopped over you, one insistently tickling just below your chin making you laugh. He’s stone stoicism acting like he isn’t a big mush, but you never say anything—afraid it’ll break this, this thing whatever it is.
“What’s your favorite constellation?” You ask quietly, combing fingers through the plush fur of his tails, lulled by the purr in his chest.
“The one with the stars,” he says absently, and you tug out a single hair from his tail which makes him swat you in the face.
“Seriously, Mera, you have to have a favorite—I know Cat does,” because when you’re talking to him it’s always Cat, never Miss Grant, and you don’t know why you feel comfortable with the difference with what is essentially the woman’s soul.
“And how do you know of her favorites, Supergirl?” He hums, smug pleasure sitting too easily on the fox’s face.
“We—talk,” you fumble, “A lot—you’re there, you know—know that we talk.”
“Indeed,” he purrs, and laughs, a rumbling sound that has Sao pricking his ears toward you both from where he’s sitting on the edge of Cat’s bed—you never look in there yourself, but Meraviglia doesn’t seem to mind your daemon watching over his bond mate, despite how much they argue. You don’t cross those lines, because it’s different for daemons—the intent and meaning leagues away from what it would be if you went through the glass doors, if you sat at the edge of her bed.
“Canis Major,” he says eventually, shattering your thoughts of the woman you can hear breathing only a handful of feet away—the little sounds she makes in her sleep, the rustle of the blankets around her body when she moves, the protective feeling that lingers in you from Sao, from where he’s curled into his cape, able to feel the arch of Cat’s foot along his side.
“The dog?” You ask, because you hadn’t been expecting that, “Not the fox?”
“Supergirl, we can’t all be horribly predictable,” he sighs, like you exasperate him, and he doesn’t say anything for a while, and you don’t prompt. “I understand Laelaps, the dog who will forever chase. To be unable to give that chase up, for whatever reason. It needn’t always be a fox, the Greeks are terribly literal sometimes; but something less tangible. Happiness? Recognition? Peace?” You forget sometimes that Meraviglia has Cat’s poet’s heart, that they’re writers, and story weavers, and brilliant minds behind shrewd eyes and sarcasm.
The chase. You’ve never thought of it like that. Like everything you’ve wanted is just beyond your reach, and you’re always moving forward, trying to grab it. Is that how Cat feels? Did she build an empire because she’s chasing something? Has she found what she’s looking for? Is she still running?
“I hope you catch it, Mera, whatever you’re chasing.”
He hums, shoulders lifting with a breath before he goes slack and stretches a little more under your head. It’s well past midnight and you’re exhausted, you’ll just close your eyes for a minute—just a minute—and then you’ll head home.