Work Text:
“Come on, I'm a classic !”
Kevin stared just past him, brow furrowed in just the slightest to let Seán know that at least something was going on inside there. Ever since the werewolf had been invited to the mash-up of monsters living inside the woods, their human friend had been trying to guess how Seán fit in.
He understood the secrecy some took with their lineage and how it could be a sensitive subject, so, in a way, he appreciated the leniency to remain uncommitted. But, for Seán, who had lived his whole life as a werewolf, it was a little odd to skirt around the subject in the presence of other Otherworldly Beings. It was expected of him to be exclusive; ranks and species often used as iron to quickly weed out possible allies and certain enemies. In some cases, Seán barely had time to give a greeting before he was being hounded about his connection to the Otherside and where he stood in the Court system. To be able to goof around and guess with no consequences was like a breath of fresh air that he had not expected to stumble upon with Beings. In his experience, humans especially, poking around at “what you really were” never spelled anything good and it was odd enough to have such an eclectic variety of Beings existing as harmoniously as they seemed to be.
So when this guessing game had first occurred, Seán was reasonably confused. He tried to just tell Kevin but the human had cut him off, insisting that it was a sort of ritual for him to guess each time. A quick, inquiring glance over at Brian hadn’t helped resolve his confusion one bit. The cyborg hardly blinked at the apparent tradition- even though he sported his metallic ligaments in plain sight- but shot Kevin an exasperating look that Seán couldn’t help but feel fondness from.
The cyborg had scoffed and egged the human on in his outlandish guesses, commenting every once in a while about how much Kevin’s brain ‘would rot from neglect’ and other good-natured ribbing at every guess. Seán, unsure of what to do, indulged the two in their light banter, basking in the odd affection exuded from the space as he let his aching muscles relax.
He had foolishly insisted on doing a share of the chores around the house earlier that day, uncomfortable with the metaphorically unequal rate of exchange. He had given little back in his time here, quickly finding that offerings of sugar and milk were met with confusion, and yet he felt that he had taken so much. He had eaten their food, played to his heart’s content, and slept so comfortably, but hadn’t been able to return anything. It was unnatural for Beings to be so generous- if something was given, something must be equally taken, that was the natural order. Yet, Daniel had never asked for anything in return- had not bound him to his word as he was so used to being.
After many failed attempts, he had clung to the opportunity to help out in any way possible. Given an arsenal of cleaning brands and various tools, he was instructed to make sure that every corner of the parlour and dining room was cleaned by a weary Daithi.
Seán, in earnest, had cleaned every nook and cranny twice over and had moved onto the grandiose staircase by the time Daniel had briefly woken. The horrified screech the vampire had let out almost made him lose his balance where he sat perched on the Newel post, trying to reach the festoon of the adjacent room with a washcloth tied to the end of a broom.
Dan’s eyes had burned as he scolded Daithi for pushing his chores on their guest. Seán, who had thought of confessing that he had been the one to ask for something to help with, decided to keep his mouth firmly shut when a particular snark from the ghost was quickly cut off by an actual hiss . The vampire, though seeming to know little of fae conduct and how the Court worked, was a stickler for a different kind of rules and etiquette.
The glare he had received from Daithi when the two were let go was scathingly cold and only made worse by the fact that Daniel had rounded on him. Apparently, if he was that desperate to find something to do, there was an old hallway of rooms that hadn’t been touched in the past couple of decades that Dan was in the process of cleaning. Seán, unsure if this was the vampire’s way of calling upon a favour, had reluctantly agreed to help, though his arms aching sorely from their extended position all day and the muscles on his lower back were twitching in protest even as he sat.
So when Brian had bet his week of chores that Kevin would never guess correctly, Seán jumped at the chance to push his new duty off.
The rules were simple, Kevin just had to be the one to guess Seán’s Otherside correctly. Eventually, Brian had even conceded that Seán was allowed to give hints but, in exchange, the human had to answer correctly by that night.
If anything, Seán thought he was the one with the unfair advantage and looked forward to the week of complete relaxation as Brian inevitably lost but the self-satisfied smirk that had tugged at the cyborg’s lips when he accepted the conditions suddenly made the werewolf lose his confidence.
Now, deep into the evening, he was finding out just how difficult it actually was. He had been dropping hints for three hours now and Kevin had hardly picked up on anything unless he spelled it out for him. No wonder the cybernetic bastard had looked so confident, Seán was fighting a losing battle he refused to acknowledge.
A bout of silence passed through the two where they sat on the rug and he let himself get hopeful when the human’s befuddled expression morphed into one of reproachful awe.
“Are you . . .”
Despite himself, Seán could feel his involuntary brace for the horror and disgust. Immediately, he felt the pang of disappointment in himself. The human had been nothing but kind and accepting of the various fantastical beings in the mansion. Yet, at the same time, Seán knew intimately how badly he fought every full moon to keep in control and, he supposed if he wasn’t cursed with it, he would be scared too. Hell, he was cursed with it and still found himself scared. Holding his breath, he tried to quickly avert his eyes before he saw the crushing hatred in the other’s expression.
“. . . the Cherokee devil?”
He paused after that, feeling his trepidation drain away to complete confusion. His brows furrowed and he had to close his eyes to recuperate from the mental damage. An almost silent, baffled “ what?” slipped out as he turned back to the human.
“The Tsul ‘Kalu.” Kevin’s eyes shone eagerly in the setting sun. The brunet’s mouth twitched in a soft, astonished smile and he leaned forward slightly as if he had just met a popular celebrity.
When Seán’s expression remained unchanged, Kevin, for some reason, became more confident in his answer, elaborating with an over exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Bigfoot!”
Seán felt his hand flying up to pinch the bridge of his brow, praying for the patience to deal with this utter shite.
“ Bigfoot? ” He could hear Daithi cackling somewhere to his right as the spector watched the interaction. “How is Bigfoot a classic ?”
“Classic could mean anything.” Kevin attempted to justify, slightly deflating. “Brian’s a fecking cyborg!”
Seán, feeling his irritation rise, immediately countered, “Brian doesn’t fecking matter.”
Behind him, from the kitchen’s entryway, he heard said cyborg shuffle into the room, the scent of freshly brewed chamomile not too far behind. An incredulous, high pitched, “what did I do?” from the mechanical man was met with a conniving snicker from the ghost and a heatless, “shut up, Brian.” from Seán who hadn’t even turned away from the human. He was still trying to puzzle out how Kevin had arrived at Bigfoot, of all things, as the answer. If he twisted his thinking, maybe he could see how the man-ape somehow fit the description. Mainstream media had quite the hots for Bigfoot with how many shows they had trying to find the fella. But it still wouldn’t make sense for an American cryptid to have decided on a permanent vacation in Ireland . Maybe he had made the guess after other clues? Seán rubbed his arms, suddenly self-conscious of his appearance. He knew that his lycanthropy attributes sometimes melded with both forms but he hadn’t thought he was too hairy when he was at work today. Had no one thought to tell him he was practically growing a patch of moss? He was sure that his hair wouldn’t start growing faster until sometime next week- had he misread his lunar calendar?
He was pulled out of his internal debate by the familiar tales of squabbling from the other two cryptids in the parlor. The ghost had floated toward the dark velvet couch- one of the newest pieces of furniture after a particularly intense match of “the floor is lava”- where Brian had situated himself and lounged at eye level. Daithi rolled lacksidasaily on his back, his head tilted slightly toward the mechanical man with a mockingly sympathetic and over dramatic coo. “Aw, don’t worry Brian. You still have me. ”
Under Brian’s whitening grip, the ceramic mug made an awful creaking noise that Seán was positive should not be possible. He internally bemoaned at the fuss that Daniel would raise over the soon-to-be spilt tea over his new couch. It wasn’t any of their faults the vampire always chose the gaudiest pieces that cost an arm and a leg. He would have probably kept that ugly tangerine loveseat for centuries if Seán hadn’t so gracefully cannonballed into it from the interior balcony of the second floor- Dan should really be thanking him for the aesthetic change.
Daithi’s doting was cut short when Brian swiped out his mechanical hand to swat the pestering poltergeist away. The ghost ducked his head with remarkable speed, leaving a faint green silhouette where he had been originally positioned as proof of the lengths he would go to to annoy Brian. Though, whether he was making a show of it or had actually exhausted himself to the point of tangibility was probably not accounted for by Brian who had most likely just thrown out his hand in the vague hope of shutting the living-dead up.
“Fuck off you rat bastard.” Brian raised the mug- no longer held in that shattering grip but probably quite fragile now if Seán had to reckon a guess- to his lips, and took a swig of the still sweltering liquid. An unfortunate skill of the cybernetics that made Seán wince in unreciprocated empathy every time he saw it. Patience was a virtue hard to come by- especially in this group.
“Are you stupid?” Daithi, now far enough out of the cyborg's range- definitely tangible then- had regained some of his bravery. “You can’t hit me. Hello? Ghost remember?” He stuck a semi-transparent hand in front of his own face, displaying a range of mocking expressions despite the extra layer. When Brian had only cocked his eyebrow at the bluff and went to take another swig of the scalding liquid- ouch, no thank you, Seán could feel his taste buds being burnt at just the thought - the ghost’s scowl deepened. With a minute flick of his wrist, a faint, irradiated green glow enshrouded the mug and it tugged itself out of Brian’s hold. The man mirrored the ghostly scowl, moving to fruitlessly wipe at the tea that had sloshed onto his lap with one hand while the other tried to grab the drifting cup without spilling any more of its contents.
“At least I have a fecking brain,” was the snappish reply as his human hand shot out toward the rising tea haplessly.
Seán turned his attention back toward the human, trying to scrounge up a way to lead Kevin to the answer by the hand without breaking the rules of the game. He’d have to make his clues simpler- something that would be easy to spell out yet not a violation. Maybe certain weaknesses? Would Kevin even know what wolfsbane was? After a quick check back into reality where Kevin was avidly goading and switching sides between the raging scuffle of ghost and machine, Seán decided that, no, he shouldn’t expect too much. Perhaps a direct approach would be the best.
“Okay, Kevin,” he called the human’s attention back to him and heard the bickering from the other two die down as the attention was brought back to the purpose of their gathering. “One more time.” At the human’s enthusiastic nod, he tried to mentally sort out his clues. “So I’m not human,” he reasoned. “Ye already tried Seelie and Brownie-” Kevin perked up as if he were ready to come to another wild conclusion. “-I can’t be an Arkan Sonney, I’m not a hedgehog.” He deflated again, a befuddled frown as he scrunched his brow in thought. “And I’m definitely not-” Seán had to take a steadying breath despite himself, closing his eyes to gather the sanity, “. . . Bigfoot. ” If anything, the human seemed to become more dispirited at the growing list of incorrect answers.
Seán, getting frustrated, decided that toeing the line a little wouldn’t hurt- after all, rules were put in place to be bent every so often. “If I’m a classic- not Bigfoot, Kevin, focus- and I look human most of the time then that must mean I transform, yeah?” He took it as a good sign that the crease between Kevin’s brow hadn’t stopped the human from nodding along slowly with Seán’s reasoning. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to give too much away for the brunet to catch on to the clues. “You could even say that I have this furry problem once a month-” He heard Daithi begin to protest, trying to call in the made up rules of the bet and something about the ‘sanctity of honor’. Fat lard coming from someone that regularly cheated in chess, in Seán’s opinion. “But most of the time I’m a guy’s best friend and hardly even have a bone to pick with you.”
It didn’t even matter if Kevin guessed his species before the end of the night. At this point, he was sure that he had already lost the bet. He practically just handed Kevin the answer and there was no way that Brian and Daithi would let that slide- not when chores were on the line. Daithi had already begun to throw a fit, his voice rising with a bounding echo, but Brian had relaxed back into the loveseat, humorously watching Seán’s undoing with his tea back in hand.
Despite the answer dangling in front of him, Kevin still seemed stuck. If it were any more apparent, Seán might have had to smack him in the face with it. He folded on himself with a deep, haggard sigh and took a moment before deciding that, feck it, he’ll have to hold Kevin’s hand through this.
“Come on, Kev,” he practically pleaded. “You got this-'' probably more of a reassurance to himself than it was to the human “-I’m a Were. . .“ He started the world slowly, dramatising his mouth movements to encourage Kevin to follow along. When the human had begun to parrot the word, the gears all but audibly whirring in his head, Seán had trailed off in hopes that he had finally done it.
“Were. . .” Kevin puzzled over the suffix, seeming to rummage through his own mess of a mind to find the answer. Finally, after a long moment of deliberation, he looked up at Seán and tentatively supplied, “ . . . Beaver?”
Seán buried his face into his hands, letting out a frustrated groan. A strained “ No ,” was all he could muster before he broke. “ Wolf ! Werewolf! I’m a Werewolf !” He rubbed his temples, feeling the many migraines that were to come when dealing with Kevin.
Brian, from his spot on the couch, had doubled over in hysterical, uproarious laughter at the answer. Tears had even begun to stream down from his one blue eye as his face began to turn red at the lack of oxygen. He stammered out a wheeze that vaguely sounded like “beaver” and “idjit” and choked on his chuckles as he all but threw himself back across the back of the couch.
“Oh thank god!” Kevin brightened despite the once again incorrect answer, seeming to find some relief in the chaos he’d caused. “I hate beavers!” The laughter became louder and Seán made a noise somewhere between an angered screech and a drowning goat.
Daithi, despite his earlier upheaval, was now staring at the human with a mix of utter confusion and bemusement. “What you got against beavers?”
Kevin tutted, his hands playing with something inside his hoodie pocket as he shrugged. “They gather all that wood in one place and then just expect you not to light it on fire! How was I supposed to know that it would burn so quickly- it’s on water! ”
Seán had done his best to block out the rest of the back and forth, feeling his brain cells rotting in an attempt to understand the human, and opted to just sit with one hand pinching his brow. He suddenly felt exhausted and reminded himself that he was set to open the shop tomorrow morning just as the fifth member of their group stumbled into the room.
Rubbing his bleary eyes, Daniel tried to stifle a yawn that demonstrated his abnormal canines with one hand while the other scratched at the back of his head. His silk pajamas- the man always insisted on silk no matter how much they tried to tell him it was weird- were slightly disheveled from his sleep and the cow lick that stuck up told Seán that they had awoken him.
“What’re yous still doing up?” Dan slurred, fumbling to wipe away the sleep from his eyes. “Seán, I thought you had to be up early tomorrow?”
Before he could open his mouth to answer that, yes he did have to and excuse himself from this all-around mentally draining situation, Kevin seemed to have a rare stroke of genius.
“Dan! Can you believe Seán’s a werewolf!”
Daniel, for his part, was genuinely confused and looked at the others to key him in to no avail. Daithi had all but given up to puzzle over how Kevin had managed to get a county’s worth of beavers to arbitrarily attack him on sight; Seán was already heading toward the stairs with a short “feck this”; and Brian was snorting tea out his nose after unfortunate timing. Seán would be worried over Brian’s struggle to breathe if he wasn’t already dreading the chores he had over the next two weeks.