technicallyhellbound | Ghostcat shenanigans

Ghostcat shenanigans

It had been a few weeks since they'd started this arrangement, and so far the Cat had, in fact, been a surprising amount of help. Enough so that Charles had stopped being mostly on-guard while in his presence and had even taken the 'puppy' nickname in stride, though he still hadn't really looked too deeply at why it didn't bother him as much as it probably should.

That particular day was neither a Monday nor a Friday, and was in fact a Wednesday, so while it wasn't one of their scheduled briefings, it was a visit that had been arranged in advance, a few hours while Crystal and Charles were at a concert, the kind of thing that while Edwin enjoyed being invited to, really wasn't the kind of thing he actually enjoyed going to, and the others both knew it, which was why they continued to invite him, even if he always declined.

It was late afternoon, not yet early evening when he stepped out of the mirror into the cannery, tugging at the collar of his slipover in much the same way he did the lapels of his usual jacket. He'd been branching out from his usual look, just a little, in bits and pieces, and now had something of a range of shades of those softer jumpers, this one was a deep bottle-green and was nearly a cowl-neck, but definitely less severe than his usual look.

It had been raining in London, or rather it had been misting heavily, and he wasn't quite sure if it was still raining here or if it had just finished, there wasn't the same kind of moisture in the air, which meant that if it was raining it hadn't been doing so for long, and all he knew was that the Cat had something planned for them to do, he was only now considering that he probably should have asked a few more questions beforehand.

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"Well, that's a relief..." He says sarcastically, but with enough warmth in his tone that it still can't be considered mean. He'd been pretty cut up about the whole death thing at the time — who wouldn't, right? — but the longer it's been the more merit he's put into the theory that a Cat King's personality can undergo some subtle shifts through death and reincarnation; not being reborn as a new Cat in any more than physicality, but adjusting with the experience of his previous lives, altered by the temperament of whatever Cat he reforms as. He does feel a little more mellow in this form, a little more likely to listen to his emotions rather than pretend they're not there, a little more understanding of the feelings of those around him.

"Let's walk back this way," He says, directing Edwin back onto the boardwalk and turning left in order to take the longer way back around to the main thoroughfare and toward the docklands. This way they can pass the main strip of humble little businesses that include that gigantic trinket shop and the café with the large seating area facing the window; a perfect promenading opportunity.

"Now that you mention it, I suppose I am doing pretty well for myself. I've got my town back, I can already feel the ley-line flooding back in, it's fish market day tomorrow, you're here and all touchable and warm...." An only very slightly amped up dreamy sigh. "I feel spoilt. Maybe it's my birthday."

He knew that he'd been the one to suggest the walk where they could actually be seen, but realizing that's what they were actually doing, he straightened a little, drawing himself up in preparation for being seen, which was going to be a new(-ish) and potentially terrifying prospect, but he wasn't going to let that terror actually catch hold, instead he was just going to enjoy the Cat's presence at his side, humming in consideration at that statement.

Keeping his focus on his companion instead of looking for any and every potential escape route, "I've been led to believe that as a member of the supernatural community," and a cat on top of that, not that he was going to say so, "you're actually allowed to decide for yourself when that is." A shallow little shrug, an impression of the movement really, "Could be today, if you want it to be."

"That's kind of a surprise, hearing you talk like that," the Cat says, unaware of Edwin's discomfort because Edwin kind of always seems a little rigid around him, but definitely picking up on the heightened focus on him. He won't complain, of course, nor look this opportunity in the mouth, but also can't help but wonder what it is about their current situation that's won this kind of attention from the ghost.

"I would have expected you to tell me I'm much too old for birthdays by now, or something rude like that..." He bitches affectionately, though the idea has a reasonable amount of merit. He's never really celebrated a birthday — doesn't remember ever having one, or ever having wanted one — but the idea of doing so is pretty much all of his favourite things wrapped up with a nice little ribbon. Attention, gifts, being the most important person in the room...

"If it's my birthday, I think I should get another present from you, right? That's how it works. This one doesn't count, since it was for a different thing." Pushing his luck? Maybe. But when has he ever shied away from the precipice?

His brow creased a little at the initial response, "Just because my own means little enough to me doesn't mean I don't understand their importance to others." He replied, as if that should have been obvious. Though mostly it was because his birthdays hadn't really been celebrated when he'd been alive, and after his time in Hell, as well as the multiple instances of himself there, it was as much a question of logistics as it was anything else.

The rest, however, had amusement seeping into the tone as he continued, "You aren't wrong, I suppose. Though that doesn't mean you're right." A thoughtful sound, "And I have come to understand that when you ask questions like that it usually means that you've already got something in mind." He flicked his free hand at the Cat in a half-beckoning movement, a clear 'give it here' even without saying so in those words, "Let's hear it, so I can decide if it sounds fair."

Edited (shouldn't type while nodding off - thought of and then forgot a bit) 2025-10-28 06:25 (UTC)

The idea of Edwin's birthday not meaning much to him, strangely, makes the Cat feel a certain kind of way. It isn't sad, exactly, and it isn't sympathetic — because Edwin clearly doesn't seem to mind all that much — but there's a definite pull on at least one of the Cat King's heartstrings that society or experience or both has made something as universally sacred as a birthday something of low regard for him. If he were a friendlier cat, or perhaps if he and Edwin got successfully closer, he might have sought the opportunity to bully him into doing something nice for it, perhaps without revealing the true reason for initiating something nice on that particular day... but then he can't see Edwin falling for that, even if it means little to him.

"Ooh, you really are getting to know me, aren't you?" He purrs, demurely fluttering his lashes though he can't lie and say that it doesn't feel pretty great to have Edwin call his bluff like that. At least this time it's more lighthearted than being called lonely and left to sit with that feeling once Edwin turned to leave.

"Well, I get a kiss in exchange for my assistance when you need it, so I don't think what I want is any mystery here."

And Edwin is enticingly tangible right now..... But, there's the issue of Edwin's tangibility also featuring visibility to contend with, isn't there? And the Cat might be selfish, but he can understand why Edwin might whole-heartedly refuse to kiss him anywhere that people might be able to see. He hums, eyes flicking down the street they're currently wandering down.

"If I find somewhere nice and secluded, do you think that'd be fair?"

There was, of course, the fact that Edwin was reasonably sure that none of these people would actually see him again that sort-of alleviated some of the tension that would usually come with being seen kissing someone, but whether or not it actually would do so was something he'd rather not test.

Which was why the Cat's offer of finding somewhere secluded -along with Charles' occasional regalement of his own stolen moments in blind corners and supply cupboards and how fun that was- tipped things in the Cat's favor and while Edwin did appear to be considering the offer for a moment, his decision really had been made already.

He nodded once, "I think that sounds fair, yes, and certainly sounds more enjoyable than the birthday switches that were traditional in my time."

The instant he sees Edwin nod, he's already guiding him down the thoroughfare a little faster, mental mind-map of his town splayed open in his brain, eyes surveying his surroundings to locate the best alleyway for their plans. Excitement fuelling him, he almost misses Edwin's comment, but the words sink in just as he's turning down the side of a little niche fashion boutique and into the access road that brackets it.

"Switches?" He squints, not sure if he actually wants the answer to his question but certainly asking it anyway, because who would expect anything less: "Like—?" He mimes the act of whipping, or at least hitting something, with his free hand. He shudders. "That's messed up."

His brow creased a little at the pantomime, "It was hardly a whipping, or being beaten with a hammer, I'm not really sure what you were trying to get across just there, and I believe pinches are traditional now." He shook his head, "It was hardly severe." Though given the source, that was probably debatable, "And many traditions are 'messed up'" there were finger quotes there and everything, "when you get right down to it."

He still followed easily at the Cat's side, keeping pace and keeping track of their surroundings as he usually did, "But your idea sounds better regardless."

"I'm all for a bit of roughness, but getting struck or hurt in any kind of way, for your birthday, is particularly fucked up." Weird for a Cat who will wilfully scratch a ghost for a tease to be so fussy about this, but it feels wrong to so easily chalk it up as normal simply because it was commonplace. Or maybe it's the idea of punishing someone for feeling special on the one day of the year when they are entitled, arguably, to feel special that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Either way, he shrugs and hurries his pace so that he and Edwin can tuck into the smaller alley going off the access road, the one capped by a dead end and the lower portion of a fire escape but with no doors that appear to be frequented by staff or residents or anything else, and no foot traffic to speak of whatsoever.

"Though, if we're going by the same inspiration..." The Cat says, flirtation sneaking back into his voice as he turns to Edwin and then takes a step closer, bullying himself into his personal bubble with only the wall behind the ghost if he were to step back. He grins. "Then it's a kiss for every year I've been alive, right? You might be here a while~"

He was perfectly content to let the subject drop, as it seemed the Cat was as well. More than that he was surprisingly comfortable being penned in like that where he certainly wouldn't have been before, and wouldn't be with someone else.

At the grin, however, and the statement that went with it, he returned a downright impressively flat look, one hand lifting between them to press two fingers against the Cat's chin, just below his lower lip, not to fully push him away, but certainly enough to keep him from moving closer just yet, "One. You can have one."

His brow hitched higher then, only barely managing to hold onto the flat look, amusement clear in his eyes and in his tone as he added, "So you'd best make it count."

[ By now, it should be no surprise to anyone that the Cat finds Edwin's firmer manner ridiculously enticing — the way he bosses people around, the demands he makes, his strict attitude that sometimes borders on stubbornness — so it should also be no surprise that when Edwin presses two fingers to his chin in a way that is absolutely not intended to be suggestive, the Cat's pupils dilate to leave only a slim border of gold around them.

And then to be challenged like that...? The Cat barely contains a yowl of excitement, the air around them seeming to fizzle with potential as the Cat fails to resist the temptation to flick those widened eyes down to Edwin's mouth and back up again. Make it count, he'd said…

He raises his own hand to press gentle fingers at Edwin's wrist, moving his hand and therefore his fingers away easily enough; a physical sign that Edwin isn't reluctant, and that this is all a further step-change in this little dance they're doing around one another. He takes that step closer he'd wanted to before, before Edwin had tugged on his leash, tilting his head to survey his prize. ]

Where did that little ghost who gasped at the feeling of my breath on his skin go, huh? [ His voice has dropped to something closer to a purr than speech, low and even, not entirely dissimilar to how it had been during the encounter he's talking about. He can't help but remember that delicious little flutter of Edwin's eyelids, so close to giving in. What a wasted opportunity. ] Would you have let me kiss you then, if I hadn't put my bracelet on you?

Edwin would forever be amused at just how similar the Cat's reactions and Charles' reactions were to the same actions, or tone of voice, or both, but he also knew better than to say so at a time like this, brow just arching a little as he answered that first question, warm and amused as before, a half-murmured: "Couldn't begin to say." Because even now that selfsame tremor was still there, though it was no longer something akin to fear as it had been then, just two steps off from it, if that. No, now it was a sort of excitement as much as anything else.

But then the actual question followed, and it was one he'd asked himself many times since that day, and he hadn't ever managed to come up with a satisfactory answer for himself, though he had determined that if he had done, he would have regretted it, but he doubted that was something the Cat needed to hear, either, especially not at the moment, which was why he just curled his fingers, hand turning a little in the Cat's hold so that he could trail the pads of his fingers along the crest of the Cat's ear, "I don't really know. There was a lot going on at the time."

It would be so easy — so wonderfully, stupidly, ridiculously easy — to imagine that this is the culmination of some long kept desire that the both of them share, that Edwin has been thinking about potential and what could have been almost as much as the Cat himself has, that this is an inevitably that was bound to happen eventually. And maybe it is, maybe he's right, maybe such a thing could very well be true-- but he doubts it. He and Edwin only share a few similarities, but aside from their shared loneliness in a crowded room, their natural curiosity is probably the greatest thing they have in common. Edwin has (at least to the Cat's knowledge) only had one rather disappointing crow kiss to date, unless he and Charles have made any headway on their whole thing since the last time he checked, so it's understandable there'd be some reciprocal interest even if only for that reason alone. And, honestly? He'll take it.

The fingers at his ear make his eyes slip closed, as if without sight he can focus on the feeling better, keep the sensation flitting around his head like a pale butterfly once Edwin decides enough is enough. When he opens his eyes again, they're wide and black and sparkling and alive with intense excitement. If Edwin had been teasing or thinking that the Cat wouldn't wholeheartedly take his challenge of making it count to heart, then he's about to learn the error of playing these kinds of games with a Cat King.

"But you'll let me now...?" It's a question only in the loosest sense, because he doesn't give Edwin any time to answer since he's already got his answer, and takes another half step closer, gently boxing Edwin in against the alleyway so that he can tilt his head and slot their lips together in a warm and insistent kiss that, though it's certainly firm, isn't so much so that it's overwhelming. And the Cat won't pull away until he's pushed, because Edwin told him to make it count, so he plans to milk this for every drop he can get.

Charles was still working himself out, and Edwin was still happy to let him, and there had been one solitary, startlingly brief kiss, after a job that had been harder than they'd expected, Charles had caught him by the shoulders -as he often did- but instead of the usual shake as if to make sure he was all in one piece, it had been a kiss, sudden and unexpected and over before Edwin could fully register what was happening. Apparently reflex as it hadn't happened again since, nor had Charles brought it up.

But that was neither here nor there at the moment, because despite having agreed to the Cat's preferred method of payment for assisting on cases, it hadn't actually come up again just yet, or, it had, but so far had consisted of a mostly-teasing kiss to the Cat's knuckles and another to his cheek, and one to his brow that had come right before pushing him off to send him home, however gently it had been.

This was new territory, and the almost-question was met with a quiet hum of assent, one that didn't actually finish before the Cat was on him and that was altogether more delightful than Edwin had been expecting. He would have been able to feel it regardless, the Cat being a magical creature and all, but truly being able to feel it was something else again, it was enough to have him gasping softly, the hand that had just been teasing at the Cat's ear sliding back into his hair, just cradling the back of his head as if Edwin might be able to tell when he was going to move again.

[ He's kissed a few ghosts in his time, but it's never felt anything like this. He knows, logically, it's to do with the ley lines and the energy transference and the fact that there is newly restored energy thrumming through the magical pathways beneath their feet as they stand here, but... but some romantic part of the Cat's brain is also wondering if it feels this good because it's been such a long time coming, something he's wanted for what feels like an age.

Like the eventual tip over the precipice after edging for too long, he thinks, and tries to suffocate a laugh at his own crudeness but fails. Luckily for him, the sound comes out pleased and affectionate against Edwin's mouth as both his hands fall to his lapels, intimate but respectful despite the fact that both of them know he'd be putting them to good use if he was allowed to.

One kiss, Edwin had said. The Cat refuses to fuck this up, but he also refuses to miss any opportunities. So, as Edwin cradles the back of his head, the Cat tilts his ever so slightly to better fit their mouths together, to get them closer, so that when he opens his mouth ever so slightly to close lips around Edwin's lower one, he can do so without actually breaking away. Technically still the same kiss. ]

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Ghostcat shenanigans

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