Characters: gender neutral demi-human Reader, demi-human Simon “Ghost” Riley, demi-human Johnny “Soap” MacTavish
CW: snakes
Word Count: 945
AO3
Mood Music: “Love to Keep Me Warm” by Laufey & dodie
You hold the newspaper in your hand as you walk up to the apartment, checking to make sure you got the address right for the third time. As a demi-human you just couldn't be too sure, not these days, especially for a job as… unusual as this.
Making sure your ears and tail are in order, you knock on the door and are greeted immediately by the distant sound of barking and feet stampeding toward the closed door. Being a catfolk, naturally this makes your hackles rise, but you take a deep breath in time to be greeted by the owner of said barking: a stocky and overly-enthusiastic dogfolk man with a mohawk.
"Oh, yer here! Yer really here!" he exclaims in a Scottish accent. "And ain't ye but perfect too! A right bonnie thing ye are." His tail wags furiously behind him as he steps aside for you to enter the apartment.
"I'm Johnny," he says as he closes the door, and the minute he does, the heat of the space engulfs you like a fist, making your ears draw back.
"Oh," Johnny says, picking up on your reaction, "dinnae mind the heat. Need to keep it on full blast all winter. It's hell on the bank account, but that's why yer here!" Again, there's that hopeful gleam in his blue eyes as he stares at you, tail wagging. “Come on, I want ye to meet Simon.”
You follow him through the small apartment, the warm, earthy smell growing as you advance further. He looks over his shoulder at you. "I'm so glad yer here. It's been a little hard to manage him by myself. He gets so thrawn this time of year." Johnny shakes his head and stops outside of a door with his hand on the knob. "Are ye ready?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I be ready?" you ask, tilting your head curiously.
Johnny nods and opens the door, stepping inside the room and standing aside once again to let you pass. The bedroom is lit with a few heat lamps, casting the room into stark shadows and red highlights, making it feel like a mix between your toaster oven and a cabaret. A massive pile of blankets lay atop the mattress, and you nearly choke on the dense, earthy smell hanging thickly in the air.
"Is that the help, Johnny?" you hear a low, gravelly voice from amidst the nest, the fabric shifting slowly.
"Aye, LT," Johnny says.
"Good boy," comes the reply, making Johnny's tail swish violently, knocking into the furniture.
You start to wonder if that hurts when you see a hand emerge from under the pile of blankets, followed by another, black tattoos writhing up the adjoining arm. They grip the mattress and pull, the figure surging forward underneath the blankets revealing a man with dark, cold eyes which flit over your body in a scrutinizing gaze.
Your nostrils flare, scenting that boggy, musky smell which screams "reptile" just as his forked tongue flicks out to do the same to you.
Simon tastes the air, slithering forward on a powerful scaled tail which is coiled under the blankets. He begins to circle you as you stiffen, your tail puffing up.
"Hello, kitten," he says lowly, tongue flicking your feline ear. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Because you're cold," you reply as smoothly as you can, trying not to think about all the cucumbers people liked to place behind you as a kid to scare you. "Johnny said you're trying to minimize your heating bill."
"That's right," Simon says as he coils around you another turn. "And did he tell you how you'll do that, pet?"
"By sharing your bed," you reply, recounting the terms you'd read in the personal ad and over texts with Johnny. "And my body heat."
Simon hums in approval. "Affirmative. It's a pesky thing being cold-blooded," he muses, coiling tighter around you. The man is incredibly tall -- or... long? Whichever. Both, even. "Winters are fuckin' cold here. If it was just me, I'd pay the heating bill, but Johnny gets hotter'n the Devil's bollocks and I don't wanna give 'im heat stroke."
You stare up at him; he’s made himself taller, using all that tail to push himself up to tower over you.
“Do I scare you, kitten?” Simon asks, testing you.
“No,” you lie.
Simon’s tongue flicks out to taste the air again, his slitted pupils narrowing. “Johnny, call the fire department. Someone’s pants are on fire.”
Johnny laughs behind you and you feel your face get hot.
“Fine,” you say, “I’m a little nervous, but I’m not scared, okay?” You shift your stance, your tail swishing behind you in agitation. “Besides, you’re not the only ones with bills to pay. I can do this.”
Simon inspects you in such a way that you think he probably would have done well as an Inquisitor. Finally, without breaking his focus from you, he says, “Johnny. Dogpile.”
Without another word, the other man barks and flings himself into the mass of blankets, digging into them with his hands to remake the nest.
Turning his back, Simon starts to move forward, but pauses to look over his shoulder at you. "Well, come on then, kitten, it's time to hibernate.”
Taking your shoes off, you join Johnny on the bed, his tail thumping wildly as Simon begins the long process of coiling around you both, locking in as much of your body heat as possible against his skin before snuggling down with the two of you.
Johnny looks ecstatic as you’re both nearly constricted in Simon’s tail.
