Sharon and Vance (Nov. 13)

[om_catseye]

Sharon invites Vance home for Thanksgiving. He explains why he can't go home to his family, and what happened to his father. Protective cat is protective.



Sharon slipped into Vance's room for the night and curled up contently in the bed with him. It wasn't quite sleep time, but the book she was reading was drooping in her hands. She snuggled back against Vance and then peeked up at him. "Question?"

He marked his page, and set his book down. "Question for me? Sure. Shoot."

"Have plans for Thanksgiving? Or, maybe free?"

Vance had to stop himself from responding automatically that he was going home. It wasn't true anymore. Hell, he wasn't sure it was home anymore, either. When had he last gone to Saugerties for Thanksgiving? Two years before? Felt like a lifetime, really.

He swallowed and shook his head 'no.' "No plans this year."

Sharon watched his expression and then turned for a better angle. She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "Come home with me?"

Vance was clearly surprised by the offer, but managed to kiss her back. "You...want me to come with you for Thanksgiving?"

She nodded and put her hand in his chest, thumb stroking the material of his tshirt over his heart. "Would like you there. Steve cooks things, invites the building and Bigby and Johnny. Big meal. Come with?"

"I've never been to someone else's Thanksgiving," Vance admitted.

She reached to stroke his hair, petting softly. "New tradition for me," she admitted. "Holidays, with family, friends. People you love. Good tradition, I think."

Vance leaned into her touch. "What did you do for Thanksgiving before?"

She carded her fingers through his hair, letting her nails lightly graze his scalp. "Before," she repeated. "Didn't have family before. Cats don't do holidays. Before Steve was in the park, or woods before went to the city. Long time ago..." She shrugged. She didn't really think about when she was a kid very often. She didn't like the memories. "Lived with people sometimes. Different families. But none of them mine. Know that now. Not what family feels like."

"I'm glad you found your family." He shifted so he could wrap his arms around her waist. "You deserve a good family."

"And you?" She asked.

Vance swallowed again, and admitted, "I had a family. That's where I used to go for Thanksgiving. Every year. My grandparents, and my mom and dad, and...well, I can't do that anymore." He knew he couldn't blame only himself for that, he knew that. But it was hard not to because, "I...broke it. My family. They won't take me back now."

Sharon's fingertips massaged down the back of his neck. Her eyes slit thoughtfully. "How do your break something like family? You're one person."

His head fell forward as she massaged his neck with soft fingers. "Did something unforgivable."

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and kept working at the tense muscles. "Reason you were in jail?" She asked softly, because she could meet him halfway there. He didn't like to talk about it, and she normally didn't push or bring it up. Given more clues, she could make connections at least. "Let you out. So not everyone must think it's unforgivable."

Vance mulled that over silently for several minutes. Finally, he agreed, "Maybe not everyone. But my family does."

"Why?" She asked softly.

He wondered if it would change anything, to tell her. A lot of people already knew, after all, it wasn't like she couldn't find out. She hadn't gone and found out, though, and something little inside of him wondered if maybe it was so easy with Sharon because she didn't know.

Vance wasn't going to become a liar now, though. "I killed my dad."

Sharon's petting didn't falter. "Accident?"

He nodded a little. "We were fighting."

Her fur bristled, but it was out of concern for Vance, not what he'd done. "Did he hurt you?" she asked.

Vance shrugged a little, without thinking, as though to say it didn't matter. It did matter. Of course it did. He knew that, it was just easy to forget sometimes, as the guilt seeped in. But his father had hurt him. That night and before. It had just never ended in death. "Yes," he mumbled.

Both hands slipped to the back of his neck, petting and rubbing circles with her fingertips. She pressed another kiss to the side of his head, not forcing him to look up or meet her eyes. If he felt safer hiding, she understood, but she was still there with him. "Scary," she said softly. "When people are violent. Not your place to accept it. When you're stronger, not your place to hide either. Know that can be even scarier. When you're bigger, stronger. People shouldn't hurt you."

"Sometimes people are broken," Vance said. He made himself meet her eyes, as he tried to explain so she didn't just think his dad was a monster. "I shouldn't have lost control."

"Sharp edges cut others," she said, fingertips rubbing more firmly. "When people hurt you, you react. Can only push so hard, before you push back. First time I changed was running from someone, changed smaller, escaped. First time I changed bigger I was scared, but can't always run. Changed instead. My strength gives me claws. Can do a lot of damage. Control isn't easy when you're scared. Or hurt."

"I did more damage than I could have ever thought. So, uh, yeah," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "no going back for me."

"Sorry you miss them," she told him gently. She pressed her cheek to his hair. "I'm not scared of you," she promised. "Never will be."

Vance gave her an earnest look. "I'm scared of me, sometimes. What I could do."

"I know." She touched his cheek, thumb carressing his jaw softly. "Want to keep you safe, so you never have to again."

He blushed, both pleased that she wanted to protect him and a little embarrassed that she felt she had to. "Thanks. I promise I can usually take care of myself, though. You don't need to worry about me."

She reached down and poked him in the chest, shaking her head in disagreement. "Nope. Passable job. Feed yourself. Not gonna get mugged alone in the city. But more than that. Should know, I can take care of myself, too. Would rather be spoiled. It's pretty nice."

Vance brought up a hand to tangle his fingers with hers. "You're pretty nice."

She smiled warmly at him. "You're pretty. Also nice."

He chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Thank you for inviting me to Thanksgiving."

Sharon rumbled affectionately. "Steve will feed you so much food. Will be great."

"Sounds pretty great," Vance said. "Should I, uh, bring anything? Dress up?"

"Don't think so. Mostly sit around, eat, they watch football and things. Already tons of food. Bring clothes for weekend? Can hang out until Monday."

"I'll bring clothes for the weekend. Maybe, like, a snack or something for while everything is still being cooked? I'll think about it." Vance shifted so he was curled against her.

"Sounds good." She smiled and wrapped her tail around him. "If you dress up, I will rumple you," she warned.

Vance looked somewhat intrigued. "Rumple me how?"

"Treat you as my personal chair, shed all over you, the normal," she said with a small chuckle. She glanced up, lips curling with mischief. "Maybe take you to bed and completely ruin anything that has buttons and takes too long to get off you."

His eyes went slightly wide, and he blushed. Vance's throat felt suddenly dry and he swallowed. "I....uh.....oh. Yeah, so....dress up?"

Okay, she really liked that reaction. The blush made all the surprising ideas worth it. "Maybe a shirt with buttons," she agreed. "Could do. No ties. No clue how to undo them."

"Ties aren't so tough," he promised. "But I can wear a shirt with buttons for you."

She smiled. "Okay." She leaned and kissed him softly. "Like you best with no shirt, but it's getting too cold for that."

His cheeks were still stained pink, but he chuckled. "Might not be formal enough for dinner, anyway, even if it was warmer out."

She dipped her fingers up under his tshirt, stroking his side. "Like how warm you are, and how strong. Fit well. Love that you carry me when I'm not just cat-shaped. Like being in your arms."

His heart swelled a bit at the praise."I like that you say what you mean, and you mean what you say," Vance said, as his heart pounded. "I like how you do not judge, or not in the usual human way. I like that you protect what's important to you. I like how you fit in my arms, but that you aren't afraid to carry me."

She kissed him again, longer this time, but softly. "There's a lot of me," she told him. "Happy to carry you."

"As long as you let me carry you, too."

"Always," she promised.