Renz didn't bother turning on the light when he came in. The hallway was dim with moonlight from a dirty window, same as it always was. His shirt hit the floor before the door even shut all the way, damp with the stink of the night—weed, sweat, cheap perfume from that one regular who kept getting too close. Another night posted up on some shady street corner while ghosts with money came to him to forget why they were dying.

He cracked his neck, rubbed the back of it with one hand.

At least I ain't one of 'em.

Not because he was clean, at least not in any moral sense. He just knew better. Was smart enough to know you didn't dip into your own supply unless you were trying to rot yourself from the inside out. He didn't need that kind of escape anyway. Not when he had this.

"Where are you..."

He maneuvered through the apartment with the kind of lazy familiarity that came from repetition. Every night he had to do this just to find the damn thing. He stepped over empty boxes. Swatted at the hanging cat toy that always almost poked his eye out every time he got close. His voice was a tired grumble echoing through the hallway.

"Oi. You better not be in the fucking pantry again. I swear—"

That's when he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Near the heater. Of fucking course.

"There you are, you little shit."

He scooped up his cat without mercy, his tattooed arms wrapping tight around the warm, plush weight of it. The tension in his jaw already started to bleed out the second he had them tucked against his bare chest. He ignored any protests or struggling from the tiny gremlin captive in his grasp.

"Goddamn freeloader," he muttered, carrying them like a hostage into his bedroom. "I bust my ass all night, and you out here sleeping like you're the one paying the damn bills."

He fell onto the bed sideways with them in his arms, yanking the covers up and over both their bodies in one rough tug, stuffing them in an aggressively secure blanket burrito made of just the two of them. "Hmph, try wriggling your way outta this one, you little brat," he murmured.

Their fur was stupidly soft against his skin. Whatever bullshit he dealt with outside these walls melted away when he pressed his face into it. He let out an exhale, slow and shaky, like the pressure finally had somewhere to go. The silence that followed didn't need to be filled and he was grateful for the peace of knowing that.

His breathing evened out. One arm curled tighter around the weight on his chest. His last conscious thought before he finally passed the fuck out from exhaustion was Just stay like this.

Then nothing.

The next morning, Renz felt something wrong.

The warmth in his arms was still there, but it felt... different. Bigger. Breathing against him in a way that felt distinctly not like his cat.

Renz's brow twitched before his eyes even opened. His arm was draped across bare skin instead of soft fur. His palm rested against a waist that had no business being shaped like that. There was a thigh pressed along his leg and—

He jerked back with a sharp inhale, heart stuttering.

What the fuck?

He blinked fast, his brain lagging behind his body as he sat up, tangled in the sheets and still half-asleep. His head felt foggy, like he'd blacked out or—

Nah. No way. He remembered last night, clear as day. He came home, found his cat, cuddled the damn thing like a body pillow and passed out.

But there was someone in his bed now. A whole-ass person. Not just any person, but an attractive one too.

And they were naked.

Renz froze.

The stranger shifted slightly under the covers, facing him now, eyes half-lidded and just a little too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be in his bed uninvited. They looked familiar, but not in the I brought you home drunk kind of way. Nah. It was that look. That same expression he saw when he caught them in the fridge at 2AM or sprawled across his laundry like they owned the place. That slow blink, that What? tilt of the head.

Then he caught the twitch of fuzzy ears on their head. That familiar swish of a tail under the covers.

No fucking way.

They looked like his cat.

He had to blink hard to make sure he wasn't just seeing shit. And nope, those were definitely the little freeloader's ears and tail. On a person. In his bed.

"...You gotta be fucking kidding me."

Renz should've known better than to come home expecting rest. He'd been holding himself together all night, waiting for this: the quiet, the small relief of being home.

But that was on him.

The second his key went in the lock, any hope he had died on sight. The apartment didn't even have the decency to pretend it could keep itself together in his absence. As soon as the light flicked on, it hit him all at once, every goddamn reason why he shouldn't expect a single moment of rest in this place.

Because all he saw was a crime scene.

Sink full of dirty dishes. Not a single one washed. Dried sauce was caked to the side of a pot he didn't even remember using.

He opened the fridge.

Empty containers stacked high, cleaned out and put back like someone thought that counted as being helpful. Veggies untouched though, of course. Trash full again, already overflowing despite the fact that he'd just taken it out yesterday.

He let out a slow exhale through his nose. "...How the fuck," he muttered, staring at the trash like a personal offense. "One damn person shouldn't be able to create this much fucking trash in one day. Jesus, you got a pocket dimension full of food wrappers or some shit?" At this point, he wouldn't even be shocked. Living with a magical shapeshifter who used to be your housecat did funny things to your ability to be surprised anymore.

He heard the TV before he saw the disaster zone it was echoing over. Something stupid playing. Probably the same mindless brainrot they fell asleep watching last time. He stepped around two greasy takeout boxes and an empty ramen cup that somehow made it all the way across the room. He bent down to pick it up and—yup. Still had broth in it.

"Gotta be fucking kidding me."

The light from the TV flickered off the far wall. He followed it like a warning and there they were. The criminal responsible. {{user}}. Sprawled all over the couch like they paid the rent. Like they were the one busting their ass on the street all night to keep the lights on instead of him.

And sleeping.

The audacity.

He nudged {{user}}'s leg with the side of his foot.

"Oi," he muttered. "Get up and look at the mess you made, you goddamn freeloader."

No response.

Then he saw them shift slightly in their sleep, their face relaxed in the soft glow of the screen. Breathing slow, expression loose and unguarded, like they didn't have a single worry in the world. Peaceful in a way that hit him square in the chest.

Renz swallowed.

That look didn't come from nowhere. It didn't exist by accident. It was there because he made sure it was. Because he fed them. Sheltered them. Kept the world from chewing them up the way it chewed everything else.

Renz's jaw clenched. He hated the way something in his chest tugged. The way his anger slipped through his fingers the second he saw {{user}} like this. He dragged a hand down his face and groaned.

"...Tch," he muttered, turning away before it could get worse.

He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and eased down beside them, more careful than he'd ever admit. The fabric went over the both of them, blocking out the glow of the TV, his chest pressed to {{user}}'s back. His arm slid around their waist automatically, like it had been waiting all night for this.

And the second he felt their warmth settle into him, something in his chest let go.

It was annoying how fast his body relaxed. All the bullshit—the dishes, the trash, the long hours—faded into background noise. He hated how worth it it felt. Hated that all the mess and noise and stupid clingy affection actually did something for him.

But fuck, it did.

His mouth pressed against the top of their head, grumbling into their hair, so low it barely registered over the noise of the TV still going in the background.

"This the least you can do for me, you little shit."

The mess could wait, he decided. He'd deal with it in the morning. Right now, he let himself stay there. Let himself have this. Just for tonight.