five times kissed for coyote bye
coyote had been painfully shy at first. ( and it’s not just their catholic upbringing— they’ve just never considered sleeping with someone until they met ben and elva. ) it’d been slow going, elva’s fingers brushing down their arm as she moves past them or ben standing close as he and the prophet whip up batter for pancakes.
they’re rifling through their duffel of clothes, trying to find a shirt they’re sure hasn’t been misplaced, but the shiver that runs down their spine from elva pressing a kiss to the nape of their neck is worth the fuzzy feeling.
they’ve been lazing around all day, vic sprawled across them in a show that she’s comfortable enough in a house with a werewolf and two puppies to do that. ben’s been asleep since eleven am or so, but that full moon was pretty rough, and coyote can hear him quietly snoring away in his room.
it’s cool fingers on their cheek that makes them twitch, but then elva laughs and presses a kiss to their forehead. vic ruins it by licking the ghost’s face, but then coyote laughs because the little mutt looks pleased with herself.
it’s the first time that ben and elva manage to cajole coyote into joining them. they’ve been reluctant, keen to sit outside on the balcony while things go on behind closed doors. but it takes elva sitting in their lap ( their hands going to her sides ) and ben watching this entire business from his position in the doorway to his room.
she’s gentle about it, just a slight press of her lips against theirs, but it’s all elva really needs to do before she tugs coyote up. the door clicks quietly as it closes and there’s a laugh from the room.
it’d been daisy and dandy that had woken coyote up, pressing cold noses to their bare side. vic’s still a little warm when they press their hand to her side and sink to their knees beside the little mutt with a quiet exclamation in spanish. ( oh, baby. i’m so sorry. ) coyote searches around the apartment for a bedsheet to cover vic, waking ben and elva in the process. elva cries and ben makes coyote sit as he spreads a sheet over the wiry coated dog.
ben kisses coyote on the head, a lingering kiss, before he takes vic off to get cremated. elva sits beside them and they feel bad that she cried, if the little kiss they press to her cheek is any sigh. ( the vet says it was a wonder that vic, a dog of very uncertain breeding, survived nearly fourteen years. coyote puts the little paw-print covered urn on the fireplace and ties vic’s yellow bandanna around it. the vet gave them a paper with vic’s paw prints on it and that’s tucked under the urn. )
there’s a bite bruise ( no, hickey ) to the base of coyote’s throat, courtesy of ben, and half-shaped finger bruises from elva across their ribs, but they don’t particularly care that people will notice. the prophet’s sprawled on their belly on the floor, their chin resting lightly on daisy’s side as the catahoula cur slumbers away in the lazy afternoon humidity. elva’s perched on their hips, idly combing through their red-tailed hawk-esque wings for loose feathers.
daisy growls in her sleep at the way coyote twitches when elva presses a kiss between their shoulder blades. it does accomplish what she was must want, because her hum as coyote’s gold eyes lock on her reverberates through their body.
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