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Gavin’s always been more of a cat person than a dog person.
While growing up, he’d actually had a few house cats and had grown incredibly attached to them, much like most families with their beloved pets. Having to leave them behind with his family when he’d left for America had been heartbreaking, but he’d known they were in good hands. His parents love those cats just as much as he does.
His love for felines didn’t just stop at regular house cats though, as a young child he would always beg his parents to take him to the zoo. When they would finally relent, he would rush through all of the exhibits until he could get to the lions and tigers. They were always his favorite, and he would try to convince his parents to let him stay there and watch them instead of checking out the rest of the animals.
Most children would get bored and demand to move onto the next exhibit, but not Gavin. He could stand there all day, resting his chin on the metal railing and watching them play, eat, or even sleep.
Of course, his cat obsession had worn off when he was younger. Much like every child with a great love and passion for something, he simply grew out of it and moved on with his life. There was no time for silly cats when he had a job and future to think about. Being an adult isn’t as easy and carefree as being a child. You can’t just watch lions behind glass or play with kittens all day.
Although, this didn’t stop him from making plans to get his own cat one day.
It was always one thing at the top of his to-do list, but he’d always put it off, procrastinating it until he was finished with his latest project. When you have a demanding job as a slow motion cinematographer, you don’t have time to buy a cat and do all of the things required to take care of it. Cats are quite independent compared to dogs, but that still doesn’t mean he’s willing to leave it home all alone for multiple hours of the day.
He may be young, but there’s a lot going on in his life right now. His career is doing quite well, travelling back and forth between England and America, and he’s even doing more and more to help the company Rooster Teeth. Burnie Burns is even working out everything involved in getting him to work for them full-time.
Which means no more filming for commercials or music videos. He’ll be working permanently for the people he’s looked up to for so long and its honestly a dream come true. But just because they all like him doesn’t mean that he’s going to start slacking, he wants to prove his worth to them even more and work even harder.
There’s no time for pets when you’re beginning work at your dream job. He can think about things like that later when he’s more settled in and things are stable.
He’s proud of himself for making such a responsible decision towards it. Younger-Gavin would be buying twenty cats right now if he had this kind of freedom.
Growing up can be obnoxious, but he thinks he’s doing rather well with it. He’s still quite young, and he’s already achieved almost everything he’s set out to do.
Work at Rooster Teeth, move to America, become well known for slow motion cinematography, and he’s literally just bought a house for himself only a few weeks ago.
If that isn’t the definition of grown-up actions, then Gavin doesn’t know what is.
It’s only a small thing. A simple two bedroom/one bathroom home that he’ll be living in by himself. He’s a simple guy with simple tastes, so he definitely did not need anything fancy or over the top. Just a quaint little place to live and relax at when he’s not working.
It’s quite charming, if he does say so himself.
The only downside to it is that he still has to unpack all of his belongings and get settled in.
All of his friends from work would be willing to provide help or offer some kind of assistance, but Gavin always turns them down. Not only because it’s stuff and he doesn’t want people going through all of his personal things, but also because he feels its the only fun step in the ‘buying a house’ process.
All of the paperwork, realtors, and house tours were boring. At least now he’s alone and he can do whatever he wants to his own place. Nobody to tell him that he cant decorate in a certain way or put organize things the way he wants.
His house, his rules. That’s why he’d gotten a house instead of an apartment in the first place.
Gavin wraps his arms around another box and lifts it out the trunk of his car. He doesn’t have many more boxes left, and he’s hoping that after this he’ll just be able to unpack and be done with it. All that’s in these boxes are some clothes and personal items that he’d had when he’d lived with Geoff and Griffon.
Hopefully he can get these finished with soon and then he can spend the rest of the day relaxing with the newest episode of Game of Thrones. He does still have work tomorrow after all.
He walks up his front steps with it, placing the box down onto the wooden porch just so that he can open up the door again, but stops when he hears a sound.
Only a soft shuffling noise that he never would have heard if it weren’t for the total silence of the outdoors at the moment. Usually the streets are lined with children playing games or adults having barbecues, their distant chatter, laughter, and gossip always a background noise to the busy street. For some reason today it’s almost completely quiet.
There’s movement nearby and it isn’t just the sound of the wind moving the nearby trees, it’s something alive.
His first thought is that the neighbors dog has burrowed it’s way underneath the fence connecting their yards again, but when he looks around he doesn’t see the excitable puppy anywhere in his yard. It’s still tied onto it’s dog house, wagging it’s tail whenever Gavin meets it’s eyes.
Gavin holds still, not moving at all until he hears the noise again.
It’s beneath his feet. Under his porch to be specific. He tilts his foot off of the wood and raises an eyebrow curiously, and then wonders if he should call somebody.
There’s clearly an animal under there, but he has no idea what kind.
Instead of pondering it anymore, Gavin decides to take matters into his own hands. He’s a grown up living in his own house now, he can handle finding out whatever is hiding under his porch. It’s only if he finds out that its a skunk or rat that he’ll allow himself to panic.
He rests the box down, not bothering to bring it inside yet. His curiosity has been piqued and the only way he’ll be satisfied is if he finds out what it is right now.
His porch is just a small wooden thing. It has a few simple steps and is light brown in color. Just a simple thing that’s much bigger than his tiny house really requires. He could have easily lived with it being smaller, but why complain about getting a bigger porch than he’d expected?
It’s almost completely walled off on the bottom sides. The only way to get under it is by the gap on the left hand side. It’s probably only used for the storing of children’s toys, not much other than that could fit under there.
Gavin thinks that he could slide under there if he really needed to, but there’d be too many bugs or other nasty things under there for him to even consider it.
He walks around to get to the tiny gap on the side, getting down low on his hands and knees so that he can peek into the small space that would be just big enough to comfortably army crawl through.
It’s dark under there. Too dark for him to really see anything, and he’d prefer not to just stare into the blackness until whatever’s in there shows itself.
"Hello?" He calls out softly, hesitant to put himself so close to the gap beneath the porch when there could be something living under there. The last thing he needs is a possum attacking his face.
He hears the gentle shuffling noise again, but it stops just as quickly as it began. Continuing to peer into the darkness isn’t going to get him anywhere, and he’d rather know what is actually hiding under his porch before calling for an exterminator to deal with this.
Gavin reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The knees of his jeans are already stained with green from kneeling in the grass, but he can deal with that annoyance later. Right now his main concern is stopping a rodent infestation before he begins.
The flashlight on his phone comes in handy sometimes. Usually during walks to the bathroom late at night or when he loses something underneath the seat of a car. He’d never expected to use it for peering under the porch to see what kind of animal has crawled it’s way underneath for safety.
What the lights shines on isn’t a possum, rat, or rabbit though. It’s a person. Well, not technically a person, but a hybrid.
Gavin’s in shock for a moment. He remains kneeling there in the dirt for a few seconds, just staring blankly at the boy with his mouth hanging open slightly. Out of all the things he’d expected to be beneath his porch, it definitely wasn’t this.
His face is hidden, probably to shield his face from the light being shone at it. Gavin points it towards the ground away from him instead as not to make him uncomfortable, but he’s still able to make out some of its features in the dull light provided.
A cat hybrid. That much was certain from the auburn colored tail wrapped around his own torso for protection, and ears protruding from curly and tangled hair of the same color.
He couldn’t see the hybrids face, as they were still covering it. Judging by how he’s gotten himself pressed as close to the wall and as far away from Gavin as possible, he might be scared. Such an emotion wouldn’t be surprising, since he looks to be quite roughed up.
Tiny cuts and deep scratches are covering his knuckles, and what Gavin can see of his face (through the cracks of his fingers) there are some decorating his face as well. But that may just be a trick of the light since its still quite dark under here. He doesn’t think favorably upon flashing his phone’s light back into the poor guy’s face again, even if it would help find out about any injuries he may have.
He must be a stray.
His lack of collar shows that he probably doesn’t have an owner, and Gavin hasn’t seen any ‘missing’ posters around town. If he does have an owner, Gavin wouldn’t be willing to bring him back if this is how he’s being treated.
Hybrids aren’t exactly rare, lots of people have them as pets and Gavin’s seen his fair share of them throughout his life. His friend Dan has had an adorable little mouse hybrid for years now, Jack and Caiti have a bunny, and even Barbara has talked a lot about how her parents have an adorable young moose hybrid back in Canada. Even Burnie’s been thinking about getting one, only hesitant because he doesn’t know how Joe the Cat would react.
But seeing one hiding here, covered in scratches, dirt, and some bruises? That’s really strange.
Strays aren’t exactly common nowadays. Ever since hybrid control has become a thing, more and more strays are found and taken to back to animal shelters in hopes of pairing them off to good homes. From what Gavin’s heard though, shelters aren’t all that kind to hybrids anymore, and the rumours still make him feel uneasy to this day.
"Hey," he murmurs, trying not to raise his voice or sound threatening, "I’m not going to hurt you. Would you like to come out?"
Much like he’d expected, the hybrid refuses. The only indication that he’s even heard Gavin’s words are that he curl’s into himself a little more for protection.
He reaches his hand forward slowly, inching it closer towards the hybrid in an attempt to touch him even though it’s clear that he’s too far away. An aggressive hiss is all he receives in response, and it causes him to jump and retract his hand quickly.
The stray doesn’t move to attack him though. Content to keep as far away as possible without having to use violence as a threat.
So, maybe he isn’t actually aggressive. He just wants to be left alone. An easy request, but Gavin is really reluctant to follow through with it.
Honestly, he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation. He knows quite a few people that would tell him to still call an exterminator, or call the pound to come pick him up. But Gavin actually does have a heart, no matter how much his friends will playfully say otherwise.
Gavin let’s out a defeated sigh, knowing that just sitting here begging isn’t going to get the boy to come out. If anything, it’s just going to keep him under there longer.
He doesn’t want to call animal control, especially after finding out that it isn’t just a rat or other disgusting pest. This is just a poor defenseless hybrid and Gavin could never live with himself if he called control on it. He could lie to them and say that he owns the hybrid just so that they get him out from underneath the porch, but what would happen after that? Besides, they would need proof that Gavin owns him.
No, calling hybrid control wouldn’t help anything.
But what is he supposed to do? Just let this poor cat hide under his porch for the rest of his life? He could be hungry or sick. What if he’s injured and needs medical care?
Too many concerns flash through Gavin’s brain, making him fear the worst for the poor defenseless hybrid.
Maybe he’s being a little too protective over a stray, but it’s hiding under hisporch, so it’s his responsibility now. If something bad happens to the hybrid, then it’s going to be Gavin’s fault because he didn’t prevent it.
Fuck. He isn’t even settled into his new place yet and he already needs help.
So much for being independent.
*
The podcast has always been one of Gavin’s favorite Rooster Teeth productions that he’s most enthused about being in. Getting paid for talking and hanging out with his friends is probably one of the greatest things ever, and being able to watch them argue among each other while he giggles quietly reminds him of the days that he was just a fan and did the same thing from in front of a computer screen.
It also gives him the opportunity to get from those on the show and then brush it off as being something he used for good content. It’s very rare that he’d ever go up to his friends and ask for advice from them, and asking on the podcast gives him the front of ‘the audience will probably enjoy this conversation. I’m doing it for their benefit, not mine.’
"So, I’ve got a problem," he says when there’s an opening for a new conversation.
"There’s a new wet stain on your floor? A ghost has shown up in your window again?" Burnie guesses, doing a horrible job of keeping a straight face.
Gus just laughs and adds onto it, “Has someone thrown another frozen egg at you?”
"You’re all rubbish, and I don’t think I want your advice anymore," Gavin smirks, gesturing for Burnie to get him another beer. He complies and chuckles at the current exchange.
"What’s wrong?"
"I’ve got a cat problem."
"Is this a cat-cat or a hybrid cat?"
"Hybrid."
"I didn’t think you owned a cat. Didn’t you say before that you were going to hold off on getting a pet?" Barbara asks.
"Yeah, that’s a part of the problem. As you all know, I’ve recently moved into a new house," he begins, restating facts they already know for the sake of the audience. Sometimes they need to be retold things, in case they’ve missed something or because they’re idiots. "And while unpacking, I’ve discovered that a cat is actually hiding underneath the porch. He refuses to come out and I don’t really know what to do about it."
"What? Like he’s living under there?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Do you think he’s a stray?" Gus questions, "Because if he is, then calling the pound is probably the best thing to do. That way if he does have an owner then he can be found, and if not then somebody else might adopt him."
"He’s definitely a stray. He’s filthy and has a few bruises and injuries, which makes me think that he’s been on the streets for a while. I don’t want to bring him to a shelter because I don’t want him to be mistreated there."
"Yeah, hybrid shelters are sketchy," Burnie agrees, "How opposed are you to just keeping him yourself?"
"I didn’t intend on getting a cat until much later, and even then I was just going to get a regular house cat, but I think I could handle a hybrid. I’m not sure,” Gavin muses, “As of right now I’m just trying to think of a way to get him out from under the porch without any force or aggression.”
"If he’s a stray it might take a while," Barbara interjects. "Was he mean?"
"He hissed at me a little, but I don’t know. It’s hard to make a judgement on somebody that refuses to come out from under a porch."
"Maybe he’s just shy," Barbara suggests, "You should give him some time to come out on his own."
"That’s the problem though, I don’t know if he ever will come out on his own.”
Burnie crosses his legs as he considers Gavin’s options, “How about you just continue trying to coax him out? He might eventually give in if you bring him food and other things.”
"Yeah," Gavin nods, "He’s probably hungry."
"You have to be careful though. Since he’s a stray he might react violently to you, especially if you’ve got food," Gus informs, "I think you’re better off just calling somebody and getting them to force him out. Who knows how long he’ll stay down there otherwise. He might have diseases or fleas."
"At least try to get him out on your own first,” Burnie suggests, “He might just be shy or scared. Most strays are. You shouldn’t take drastic measures so soon, he might get hurt.”
Burnie’s probably the best person to come to for serious advice like this. He always has everybody’s best interests in mind and might have the biggest heart in the entire company. Gavin’s never seen him brush off people and he always seems to put everybody else’s concerns at the top of his list.
"I definitely don’t want to hurt him," Gavin comments, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he thinks about the boy.
"You don’t want to make him say meow?” Barbara interrupts with a cheesy grin on her face and holds out her arms in a ‘ta-dah’ type fashion. Everybody else groans in response.
"Look what you’ve done," Gus narrows his eyes playfully at Gavin, "You’ve started her on the cat puns."
"You don’t like them?" she asks, "You aren’t feline up for it right meow?”
"Oh my god," Gavin groans through his laughter, "I regret bringing it up."
"These are quite pawssibly the best puns ever!”
"Enough."
"You want me to stop? You aren’t kitten around?” Barbara continues,
"You’re killing us."
"Okay, fine," she laughs to herself, leaning back against the couch, "I’m finished with the puns. They’re hisstory. It’s a mew beginning.”
"You are the worst kind of person."
*
Gavin spends the next few hours after the podcast reading through the responses he gets on Twitter.
It’s mostly tweets about useless things like their opinion on the video game trailer they talked about or a ‘Hahaha, that was a funny joke, Gav.’ But some of them are offering advice on what to do about the cat situation.
Lots of suggestions on what to give him or what to say to convince him, but some are just praising him on not wanting to be an asshole to the cat hybrid.
It doesn’t help much. He isn’t doing this to be the hero, he’s just genuinely worried about the poor thing holed up underneath his porch.
Luckily a lot of the tweets are agreeing with Burnie on offering him things. That way, even if he doesn’t come out, he’s still getting some food and necessities. He probably needs it, food is scarce if you’re a stray hybrid living without an owner or family.
Gavin sighs as he quietly walks to the opening under his porch with the plate full of food.
His mind is filled with thoughts of self doubt and concern. What if the hybrid refuses to take the food? What if he attacks as soon as he sees it?
It’s pathetic that he’s worrying so much about a stray hybrid rejecting a meal.
He tries to make his movement limited as he crouches down. Or at least slowed so that he won’t startle the guy. He already seems a little jumpy, which is to be expected because he’s basically living underneath a porch, and it concerns Gavin a little. It’s obvious that the hybrid holds no trust for him, and is expecting the worse of Gavin finding out where he is.
It’ll be nice to prove him wrong and show that he isn’t a bad person that wants to bring harm to him.
"Hey there, little guy," he says softly, not wanting to speak too loudly, "I know you probably still don’t want to come out, but I made an extra plate of food if you’re interested."
He gets no response. Only a slight glare that’s filled with mistrust.
"Don’t worry," Gavin smiles, "I’m not even going to make you come out to get it. I’ll leave it right here."
He puts the plate onto the grass, and then slides it underneath the porch as far as his arm will let him. It’s still a noticeable distance away from the hesitant hybrid, but Gavin figures it will have to do. Any closer and the poor guy might have gotten scared.
"Goodbye," he says, trying to keep his tone as pleasant as possible and gives a tiny wave.
As he gets up and brushes the grass from his knees, he’s a little disappointed as he doesn’t hear any noise. Maybe the cat’s just a quiet eater, but judging by how hungry he looks, Gavin isn’t willing to bet on that.
He walks up the stairs of the porch as quietly as he can, listening for any noises of the plate being touched.
He opens up the front door and is about to step inside but then gets a better idea. Staying in his place on the welcome mat, he closes the door without walking through it and stands as still as he can.
Not even moving a muscle in fear that it will make a sound and give him away. Cats have excellent hearing after all.
He stands there in the silence for a few moments, even holding his breath in an attempt to keep as quiet as possible.
Just when he’s about to let out a sigh of defeat and go back inside, he hears it.
The quiet shuffling from underneath the boards beneath his feet, and then the sounds of somebody trying to eat as quickly as they can.
Gavin smiles to himself.
*
The next day, he goes back.
"Hi again!" Gavin greets, unable to see the hybrid under his porch but trusting that he’s there anyway. "I brought you this!"
He holds up a folded up blanket. It’s an old one that he’s had since he’s first visited America. Geoff and Griffon had bought it for him as a gag gift, but sometime he’d still find himself curling up with it while watching a movie.
It was a large furry blanket that depicted a picture of a British flag. Extremely cheesy, but he still adored it.
"I know since this is Texas it’s usually quite warm, but at night it probably gets chilly under there. So I figured it might be of some use to you. Even if it was just to put underneath you so that you aren’t directly laying on the ground anymore."
Gavin slides the blanket across the grass, and it’s only when he’s pulling his arm away that he notices the empty plate laying there. He smiles to himself and takes it, noticing that it’s been licked clear. He’ll have to bring out more food next time. The little guy is a lot more hungry than he’d thought.
"Goodbye!" He says happily as he begins to get up, "I’ll be back tomorrow!"
*
This continues for about two weeks.
Everyday Gavin will find himself crouched down on his grass, reaching underneath his porch to give gift. Usually it’s food, but sometimes he’ll also bring a glass of water or milk.
It appears to be working.
Not only is the stray accepting the things given to him, but he doesn’t glare at Gavin with mistrust or anger every time that he comes around. When Gavin reaches forward to push things under the porch closer to him, the boy doesn’t move away or flinch.
Instead he just watches curiously, and grateful glint in his eyes as he examines what’s being given to him.
And it’s really taking a lot of stress and worry off of Gavin’s back. The hybrid isn’t denying or refusing his gifts and isn’t lashing
Gavin continues to give updates on Twitter since all of his followers are so enthralled with the story of him and the hiding hybrid. They give him more advice on what to give, offering links to recipes for cat hybrid friendly meals that would help the poor creature gain it’s health back.
Usually Twitter is a pointless form of social media that he rarely ever checks his replies on, but now he’s reading through them hungrily, desperate for as much information as he can get.
He feels his cat obsession coming back full throttle and it gives him a taste of nostalgia from when he was a young boy. Seven year old Gavin would be absolutely thrilled to be making friends with a cat hybrid.
Not that he’s making friends with this one now. He’s trying his hardest to gain it’s trust and get on it’s good side, but he has no idea if it’s working or not. All he can really do is continuing doing what he’s doing. So far it appears to be working out in his favor.
*
Ever since Gavin’s gotten his license, he’s enjoyed the freedom of being able to drive to and from work without having the bum rides off of people. Before it was easier because he lived with Geoff, so rides were a lot easier to come by since the guy was basically his boss. But his new house isn’t all that close to his pseudo-family, and neither are any of his other co-workers.
Being a new home owner and car owner has been quite a leap, but he’s been handling it well. So well that he’s still considering becoming a new pet owner too
When he pulls up into his driveway he almost slams on the brakes out of fright.
Sitting on his porch, leaning against the door is the cat hybrid. His arms are wrapped around his legs, as though he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. Probably a habit from squeezing himself into tiny areas, such as under porches. The jeans he’s wearing are filled with holes and are almost as dirty as his curly hair, which appears to be tangled and knotted beyond fixing with a simple comb.
What Gavin really notices though are the two feline ears sticking out on the top of his head, and the tail resting on the porch next to him. The same color as his auburn hair and just as dirty.
He looks up when he hears the car, and Gavin can see the reluctance in them as he parks.
In the daylight he looks even worse. A lot better than Gavin would expect a stray to look like, but the dirt and scratches covering his face are surprising. Under the dark shade of the porch it was easy to underestimate just how roughed up he is.
When he steps out of the car he tries not to slam the door. Moving slowly and quietly seemed to work last time, but this times he’s doing it just in case the guy wants to dart back into the safety of the porch. For all Gavin knows, he may come out and sits on top of the porch every time that he’s away.
"Hello there," Gavin murmurs, stepping closer and closer.
The hybrid doesn’t move, and instead continues to stare at him. The worry and hesitance is still clear in his features, but there’s no longer any distrust on anger.
"Hi," the hybrid responds, his voice equal parts shy and hoarse.
Gavin’s eyes widen at the turn of events. “You can speak? You’ve been taught English.”
Throughout the entirety of this ordeal, he hadn’t even considered that the boy knew how to talk. It isn’t entirely uncommon, lots of hybrids are taught to speak. Some owners prefer them not to, mainly because it requires a lot of time and patience to teach them, but a lot are willing to dedicate that just to have a speaking companion.
Since discovering the guy beneath his porch, he’d just assumed he hadn’t been taught since he didn’t speak. It’s only now that Gavin’s realizing that it was because he wasn’t trusted or wanted to talk to.
"A little."
Unsure of how to go about this, Gavin simply nods. He almost wishes he could call up Burnie to get some pointers on what to do next. Not only because he gives good advice and is always caring for others, but because he’s a cat owner himself. Joe the Cat is extremely lazy and nonchalant compared to the guy, not to mention that he isn’t a stray, but at least it would be a pointsomewhere in the right direction.
"Are you… alright?"
Gavin figures that’s probably a good thing to start out with. Maybe he’s come out because he’s seriously hurt or sick, and if that’s the case then Gavin would prefer to know now rather than later. Getting him to a vet would be top priority.
He doesn’t respond with words this time, and just nods quietly.
By now Gavin’s walked up the few steps of the porch and is standing directly in front of him. The hybrid doesn’t move or flinch, and instead continues to watch him, waiting for him to react negatively to his presence.
Instead, Gavin lowers himself down so that he’s kneeling in front of him. “Why’d you come out?”
He shrugs, looking down to avoid eye contact. “I can go back if you want.”
"No!" Gavin cries, but quiets once he sees the hybrid jump in fright from his volume, "No, of course I don’t want that. I’ve actually been hoping that you’d come out."
That makes him frown in confusion, “Why?”
"Well, it can’t be very comfortable down there, can it?" Gavin smiles, "And I was worried that you might be sick or hurt. It’s harder to tell if you need to go to a vet if you’re hiding down there."
His eyes widen, “No, no vets. Please,” he begs. Shrinking back a little, fearful that Gavin will take advantage of him being within grabbing distance and force him to go to one. “I’m fine. No broken bones, no sickness, no fleas. Nothing, I swear!”
"Alright, alright," Gavin tries to soothe him, "Don’t worry, I won’t make you go to a vet unless I really think you need to.”
That seems to settle him a little, but its clear that he’s still on edge. “Okay. Thank you.”
Gavin studies his face for a moment, observing the wounds with tender care. He doesn’t notice the boy blushing and looking away, shy from the sudden attention to his being. Most of the scratches are tiny and are already healing on their own, but they look filthy and should probably be properly cleaned and bandaged. There aren’t that many, but Gavin still feels compelled to fix them up.
"Although, those scratches do look a little dirty. Do you mind if I…" He gestures to the boy’s face, mainly to the larger scratch on his right cheekbone.
Gavin doesn’t move any closer until the boys gives him permission. He gives a quick nod before he leans closer and then keeps his head still.
He doesn’t touch the wound, only the skin around it, just to get a closer look to see how dirty and in need of attention it is.
"Michael," the boy whispers, his voice barely audible.
Gavin raises a brow, and stops examining the wound to stare at him curiously. “What?”
"My name. It’s Michael."
He almost wants to smack himself for not thinking to ask his name or introduce himself. “Michael,” he repeats the name, pleased with how pleasant it sounds to his ears, “I like that.”
"Thank you, sir."
Gavin cringes at the formal title. He knows lots of owners request for their hybrids to call them by such, but he’s never seen the appeal of it. Michael’s probably resorting to it because he doesn’t know what else to call him, and might think that calling him anything else could result in some negative consequences. He’d be right in most cases, there are some pretty terrible people out there that act quite horribly to hybrids.
"It’s Gavin," he informs, a comforting smile on his face to show that he isn’t annoyed by it, "Gavin Free. No need to call me sir. And, yeah, we should get that cleaned up. Would you like to come inside? I’ve got things to clean it with, and band-aids. I’ll try to fix it up as best I can."
"Inside? You mean… In your house?"
"Yeah, if you’re alright with it. If you’re uncomfortable I can just go inside and bring it out here."
"No, I don’t mind," he murmurs, "I just… I didn’t expect you to invite me in."
Gavin raises an eyebrow, “What did you expect.”
He shrugs, honestly not really expecting anything. He’d just wanted to get out from under the porch, and hoped that maybe he could continue to get food even if he didn’t keep himself hidden down there.
"Well," Gavin continues, "Lets go inside and I can fix you up. Then, if you want, I’ll make some food and you can get washed up."
"Really?"
"Yeah, of course!" Gavin smiles warmly, thankful that this is going well and that the hybrid is actually very well mannered. Worst case scenario was that he had a psychopath living under his porch, and he’s extremely thankful that its turned out to he the opposite.
He nods, still blinking owlishly at somebody treating him so kindly.
*
Gavin mumbles to himself under his breath as he pokes through the bottles in his bathroom cabinet. Michael just watches curiously from his seat on the bathroom counter, smiling to himself as he hears a few things being knocked over and then a quiet string of curses to follow it.
"Ah! There we are," he announces as he pulls out a bottle that Michael doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t know much about medicine or health, so even if he does ask what it is, he may not understand the answer. He wouldn’t want Gavin to think he’s stupid, and he figures that proving himself to be less of an annoyance would be more beneficial to whatever it is he’s doing here.
"I promise, it won’t hurt," he assures, putting a cloth on the opening of the bottle and then turning it upside down so that it becomes soaked with the liquid. "Back when I was a kid, I’d fall down and get hurt a lot. That’s what my mother used to always tell me when she had to put this kind of stuff on my scraped knees. Of course, she was lying about it."
Michael listens to him rambling, not interrupting until the cloth is moved towards his face. “You’re not lying, are you?” He asks, his face leaning away so avoid the potential sting of the cloth.
"No, I’m not. My mother said it because she knew I would rather have dirty cuts rather than clean if it meant avoiding the pain, but to be honest, it didn’t hurt all that much anyway."
He nods. Trusting Gavin is his only option now, and its never proved to be a wrong choice yet.
True to his word, when the damp cloth touches his wounds, it doesn’t sting or cause any pain.
"So, did you get lost? Is anybody out looking for you?" Gavin asks.
"No. They might have been at one point, but it’s been so long now that they’ve probably forgotten about me."
"How long have you been under my porch?"
"I’m not sure. I’d went there originally to avoid being seen by the hybrid catchers."
"And you just stayed?"
"Well, no. I’d stayed because then you found me and I didn’t know what you would do if I came out."
"Most would just call hybrid control if they found you."
"Yeah, I know, but I decided to stay. I liked it under there, it was safe from people and you seemed nice."
"Nice?"
"Yeah. You didn’t yell at me or threaten me."
"Of course not, I hate people that are abusive to hybrids, even if they’re just strays. Nobody deserves that kind of treatment, and besides, you looked like you needed some help."
"I don’t need help."
"Alright, you don’t. Sorry. I just… didn’t want you to be stuck under my porch cold and hungry."
"No," Michael shakes his head slowly, "I appreciated it. A lot. I haven’t even had owners treat me that well."
That confirms Gavin’s suspicions of a previous harmful owner. He probably didn’t get these wounds from them since he’s said he’s been away from them for a while, but the thought of somebody hurting Michael in any way (whether physical, verbal, or otherwise) makes him angry.
He doesn’t even own the guy and he feels protective over him. That’s probably not a good thing though, Michael seems set in his defiant ways, and although he claims to enjoy Gavin’s presence, he may not take well to assistance. He’s already denied needing help, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he wanted to leave immediately after getting his wounds tended to.
"Why were you hiding for so long?" Gavin asks, unsure on if he should be prying or asking questions. He’s still highly aware that Michael could be uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to expand on that anymore than he may already have.
"You’re a stranger. I didn’t trust you."
"And you do now?"
"Maybe. I don’t know.
Silence settles over them again as Gavin continues to tend to his wounds. They aren’t nearly as bad as they look and he’s already gotten them relatively clean. He runs the sink faucet as he gets a face cloth, noticing Michael grimacing at the sight and sound of water. It’s cute, the way that he scrunches up his nose in disgust at it, and Gavin wants to giggle at the sight.
Instead of finding more amusement from the cat’s annoyance, he wets the facecloth, wrings it out, and turns off the faucet. Wiping the patches of grime and dirt that seem to be caked onto the cat’s skin.
He wipes away the dirt covering Michael’s cheeks, revealing the mess of freckles adorning them.
It should be awkward, Gavin thinks as he realizes how close his face is to Michael’s. He probably doesn’t need to invade his personal space this much just to clean him up, but the hybrid doesn’t complain or even look slightly bothered by it.
Gaining his trust was a lot easier said than done, Gavin had almost assumed that Michael would never come out from underneath his porch, and would continue to stay under there forever. He’s very glad to have been proven wrong. Seeing Michael sitting on his porch was certainly a surprise, but a pleasant one.
He still doesn’t know what he’s expected to come from befriending or gaining Michael’s trust, but it hasn’t steered him wrong yet.
"Can I ask a question?" Michael asks hesitantly.
He acts as though even being curious in the first place is something that will get him scolded. Gavin hopes that will wear off soon. He wants Michael to know that he’s safe here. He isn’t on the streets right now, and he doesn’t have to be ever again if he doesn’t want to.
"Yes, of course."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" He murmurs, looking away to avoid eye contact. His ears lower on his head in the most adorable way, but Gavin shakes that thought away as Michael continues speaking. "Most people would call hybrid control or beat me if they found me hiding under their porch. But you didn’t. I don’t understand why."
Gavin wants to sigh, not at the question itself, but at the fact that it’s so surprising to Michael that somebody could be showing him a shred of kindness. Coming along nice people shouldn’t be such a rare thing. Too many people in this world think it’s okay to mistreat or harm hybrids. It’s disgusting.
"I would never do that," Gavin states seriously, looking deep into his eyes as though that will help convey his message. "You don’t have to worry about me being like one of those people. I’m not and I never will be."
"But why?"
"Lots of people are assholes, Michael, but not all. I hate that there are horrible and rude people out there, but not everybody is like that. A lot of my friends even own their own hybrids and I swear they live almost better than I do."
"Really?"
"Yeah! Like my friends, Jack and Caiti, have a rabbit hybrid they’d got in Australia. Name’s Velvet and I’ve met her a few times. Shy little thing though, can barely get a word out of her at times."
Michael is quiet as he considers this.
"And… They’re nice to her?" he finally says after a stretched out period of silence. Gavin took advantage of that time to continuing tending to his dirty face, but Michael’s disbelief makes him want to stop and reassure him again. It’s hard to focus on both at the same time since they’re two important tasks that require his attention.
"Yes, always. Nobody deserves to be treated badly."
"Not even stray hybrids?"
“Especially not stray hybrids.”
"Huh," is all he responds with, still deep in thought over this.
"Just because you’re living under my porch doesn’t mean you deserve to be hungry and cold."
Michael looks up then, meeting his eyes for one of the first times since they’ve met. “Are you going to call hybrid control after you’re finished?”
Gavin’s almost taken aback by the question. Out of everything he was expecting Michael to say it certainly wasn’t that.
"No. Why would I?"
"Because I’m a pest."
"No you aren’t. Whoever told you that is wrong."
"I’m a stray," Michael says, glaring at him as though anger will help get his point across. "I might even have fleas or diseases."
Gavin can’t hide his smile as he simply continues to clean his face.
Michael doesn’t seem to like him shrugging off his words as though they mean nothing, and he reaches up to pull Gavin’s hand away, forcing him to pay more attention. Apparently mistaking the unconcerned attitude for ignorance.
"There’s a reason people don’t just take care of strays. We’re dirty and aggressive and uncontrollable.”
"You aren’t like that."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I’m a good judge of character, I suppose. Also, you probably would have attacked me when you’d first saw me if that was the case."
"You’re taking a big risk just to help a cat."
Gavin shrugs, “I like cats. I always have. Both hybrid or otherwise.”
Somehow being around Michael has slowly made him feel more confident. Not because the he requires coddling or somebody to look after him, but because the boy just radiates control and self-reliance. Something that Gavin’s been working his ass off in the last few weeks in achieve.
Moving into a house and starting a new job is a lot more work than he was expecting. Michael’s helping him feel more responsible, also allowing him to momentarily forget about the stresses he’s been dealing with lately.
Gavin’s already working out in his head what clothes he has that may fit the hybrid. Most of his clothing are tight fitted and the smallest in their available size. Michael may be thinner than he should from lack of nutrition, but he’s still a few sizes larger than Gavin is.
Michael’s current clothes are baggier, and hang loose off his thin frame. Gavin would prefer to give him clothing that are closer to the ones he’s wearing now, that way he’ll feel more comfortable.
He’s definitely not going to make him stay in these filthy clothing, who knows how long he’s been wearing them.
Michael’s quiet for the most part, but he appears to be biting his tongue to keep himself from talking so much. Looking a little guilty for speaking so harshly, but Gavin wishes he would have continued. A little of his true personality was shining through, and although crass, Gavin liked it.
Hopefully he’ll lose the quiet and nervous behavior and start acting and speaking more naturally.
Gavin assumes it’s because he’s aware of people frowning upon speaking hybrids. Maybe his previous owner didn’t want him to speak, but he must have learned it from somewhere. How many owners has Michael gone through?
Gavin can only imagine how interesting it would be to hear Michael ramble on and on, speaking about something passionately or complaining about an annoyance. It’d probably be entertaining, he already seems like quite the character.
He’s always loved watching people as they speak like that. The awestruck look on their faces and their habit to almost hop with eagerness as their so excited to get everything they know about the subject to your ears.
Gavin wonders what Michael would be passionate about. Maybe the same things he is, that would be fun. He can already imagine playing video games with him, or filming slow motion videos when Dan isn’t in town, or watching Game of Thrones when the newest episodes are released.
It’s difficult to imagine having such a fun and exciting time with the boy who is sitting quietly on his bathroom counter, covered in dirt and scratches, but Gavin is so enthused by the very idea of it. So much that it completely slips his mind that he technically doesn’t own Michael, and he may simply want to leave and never come back after this.
"So, no owner?"
"No."
"And no home?"
"No."
"Well then, Michael… Would you be opposed to living here? With me? I mean, actually inside the house this time. I’m sure that it’s a lot warmer and cozy compared to underneath the porch.”
Michael just stares at him with a deer-caught-in-headlights expression. Gavin smiles softly as him, amused that he’d be so taken back by such a simple question. “You… You want me to live here? With you?”
"Only if you want to. I wouldn’t force you to or anything. If you want to leave and find somewhere else to stay then its fine by me. Or if you want to continue living under my porch. But, I’d prefer to know where you are so that I can continue giving you things." He shrugs with embarrassment and turns his attention to cleaning Michael’s knuckles. Only because he doesn’t want the other boy to meet his gaze and notice how much he’s blushing. "I’ve grown rather fond of you within the last week or two, and I’ve liked being able to help you even if it was just with stupid things like a plate of food or a blanket. I know that it doesn’t mean much but-"
"No," Michael cuts him off with the shake of his head, "It wasn’t stupid, and itdid mean a lot. I’ve never seen somebody do something so kind without reason. Thank you.”
If Gavin was blushing earlier, then his entire face is red now. Michael doesn’t seem to hold any embarrassment for his own words and maintains steady eye contact the entire time, even when Gavin looks away.
"I-It’s no problem," he attempts to shrug, but delight fills him at the thought that his little "gifts" were really something that Michael appreciated. It also makes him more hopeful for Michael to accept his offer to stay, because if something as simple as a small plate of food or a blanket meant so much, then he can’t be doing very well out there on his own.
Life on the streets can’t be easy for a hybrid, and Michael’s condition now only proves that.
"How long has it been since you’ve had an owner?" He asks curiously, unable to take the silence any longer as the hybrid thinks over the original question.
Michael grimaces at the very word, as though saying it would leave a bad taste in his mouth. “A while.”
He must have had one before then. He speaks so eloquently and with such understanding of his own words, despite how basic they may be. Most people that own hybrids don’t bother teaching them how to speak. Mainly because the effort you have to put into teaching them is often seen to be more effort than its worth, and hiring a trainer is too expensive.
Michael must have ran away. Gavin can’t imagine anybody wanting to give up a hybrid as physically appealing as the one sitting in front of him. And if Michael ran away from his previous owner, then that probably means that they were not the nicest people around.
He still doesn’t know if the cuts and bruises littering the hybrids body has come from harsh life on the streets or from human mistreatment, but neither sound to be more favorable than the other.
Sending Michael back out on the streets isn’t something he would be happy to do, especially if he has abusive owners searching for him.
The more Michael is sitting here speaking with him, the more Gavin wants to shield him from having to go back to living outside on his own anymore.
"If you want… I could be your… Ya’know, owner or whatever," he mumbles, feeling incredibly awkward for bringing it up. He’s never been good with this sort of stuff. "Whatever you want though. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel obligated. I just think that-"
" I don’t like owners," Michael says.
"O-Okay. No owners then. It’s not a problem. I’m just Gavin, your friend with the porch. With a… House attached to it, I suppose. Which is still an open invitation by the way. You don’t have to be my hybrid in order to live here. That is if you actually want to live he-” Gavin’s nervous rambling is cut off again when Michael reaches up and covers his mouth.
Probably not the most hygienic thing since the guy has been living under his porch for who knows how long, and it looks as though his hands are permanently stained with dirt and mud.
Instead of looking annoyed or offended at Gavin’s constant chatting and stumbling over his own words, he looks curiously interested. Even as he stares at him, his eyes study Gavin’s face as though they’re taking in every tiny detail.
"I like it here," he says simply, giving the tiniest hint of a smile as he speaks. "I would like to stay. You would still let me stay if I didn’t want an owner?"
Gavin nods since he can’t exactly speak with Michael’s hand covering his mouth.
"I don’t like owners," Michael repeats his previous statement, but this time continues it with a follow up. "But I like you.”
The hand is slowly removed from Gavin’s mouth but with caution, as though he’s confirming that the onslaught of words will begin again.
"I- alright," Gavin simply nods, his eyes wide with confusion as to Michael’s getting at.
"I think I would be okay with you being my owner," he says quietly, for the first time sounding a little unsure of his own words. Not because he’s speaking without thinking it through, but because he’s worried of rejection.
Instead, Gavin simply beams at him, and then nods his head furiously.
"Cool, okay, great!" he fumbles, the happiness making him fumble over picking just one word.
"As long as you’re not a…" he mumbles, shyly, trying to avoid eye contact, "…Ya’know."
"Asshole?"
"Yeah."
"You can curse. I don’t mind."
Michael looks up at him, confusion evident in his features, “Really?”
"Yeah," Gavin nods, and begins rambling again, "All of my friends are big on cursing. Sometimes it’s like every second word that comes out of their mouth is a swear. I don’t mind though, of course. People can do whatever they want."
Michael doesn’t look so sure. “Even hybrids?”
He gives him a warm smile, as he confirms, “Even hybrids.”
There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them until Michael breaks it. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, and Gavin knows that this time he isn’t asking about the cursing.
"More than okay, really," Gavin grins, proving it by reaching forward and evolving the boy in a tight hug. He’s probably already too comfortable with being close to Michael, but isn’t pushed away or given any complaints.
In fact, he feels Michael nod and actually hug back. The firm arms around his body and fingers splayed against his back fill Gavin up with warmth and comfort.
It seems as though Gavin wasn’t the only one hoping that this would end as happily as it did.
After pulling away from the hug, he presses a firm kiss to the top of the Michael’s head, right I’m the middle of the space between his ears. The smell of his hair is difficult to miss, and Gavin decides that he’s going to need a shower rather soon, but he’s able to ignore it for now.
When he pulls away and meets Michael’s eyes, he sees the trust in them that he’s built up over the last two weeks. There’s so much more room to grow onto that, make the trust between them more stable and not so easy to break.
They may have only just officially met a short while ago, but he can already see the opportunity for a great friendship. And maybe even something more, who knows?
They’re aren’t alone anymore, and that’s what matters right now. No matter how this relationship will turn out, it’s clear that it’ll be a great one as long as they play their cards right and continue down the path their going.
Michael smiles at him, and Gavin’s excited about it already.