12. Quinlan Gets Nice Things

12

Quinlan woke up crammed against the wall, a huge sapphire dragon curled around him. "Griff!"

Griff snuffled and snorted next to Quinlan's face. "Mm?"

"Where are—Are we at my old apartment? On my rickety bed?" Quinlan squawked.

"Yes." Griff cracked a red eye open. "Why?"

Quinlan gestured at the entirety of the dragon. "You're huge. How hasn't the bed broken yet?"

"It's creaking." Griff shifted slightly, and the bed frame shuddered beneath them.

"How haven't you fallen off?"

"I'm mostly on the bed. Two-thirds. Half." Griff scrunched up his face. Then he lifted his upper body to check, and the bed swayed dangerously.

"Don't move," Quinlan yelped.

"How else am I going to get off the bed, fireheart?" Griff gave him a toothy smile.

"You could sh—"

"Mo!" Annie said somewhere behind Griff.

"Annie! You're awake!" Griff turned the other way to look at her. The movement was so sudden that a loud, splintering sound filled the room.

The bed lurched sideways. Quinlan yelped.

Griff turned back and scooped Quinlan into his paws, cradling him protectively as the bed crashed onto the floor. Quinlan's cheek squished against his hot, scaly chest.

"I got you. You're safe," Griff murmured, holding Quinlan steady.

When the bed had settled beneath them, Quinlan cracked his eyes open. "Are you hurt?"

Griff laughed. "That was just a small bump. It was nothing compared to last night."

Quinlan felt relief, then panic. "Oh gods. Did the attackers hurt you last night? How did they even find us?"

"I just had a few scrapes." Griff carefully released Quinlan and got to his feet, turning around to show Quinlan his entire body. Some of his scales had char marks and scratches, but there were no flesh wounds.

Quinlan released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"They sighted me in the previous state. I was trying to out-fly them, but they followed me with helicopters. Slimy scumbags." Griff scowled. He grabbed his phone and poked at it again, but it was still off.

"Is anyone going to think we got hurt?" Quinlan asked. "I told my friends we'd be traveling. They're expecting a text from me."

Griff picked up Quinlan's phone, which refused to turn on, too. "We'll be back soon enough. They can wait a day."

Quinlan's friends wouldn't come charging across three states to look for them, right?

Quinlan climbed off the collapsed bed and scooped Annie into his arms, dropping kisses all over her face. "How's my little anchovy?"

She blew an iridescent spit bubble, going cross-eyed when Quinlan brought their faces close together.

Griff cackled. "Annie is adorable."

"She is, isn't she?" Quinlan's heart skipped. He liked that Griff was so fond of babies.

He liked it a lot.

"We're going out to buy you some things today," Griff announced. "Things that will make my fireheart happy."

Quinlan frowned. "You don't have to."

"I do. It's my courting gesture." Griff puffed out his chest. Then he leaned in to sniff at Annie, and she shoved her fist into his nostril again.

"Annie," Quinlan groaned, pulling her back just enough to free her hand. "We don't stick anything up people's noses!"

"She is just like you," Griff said. "Adorable."

Quinlan snorted. "Your vision must be flawed."

"Nope. Besides, adorableness doesn't just refer to someone's looks."

"Your judgment is flawed, then."

The dragon grinned. "It's not."

Griff watched as Quinlan nursed Annie. He watched when Quinlan changed her diapers, too.

"You can start practicing all of this," Quinlan said. "If you're so keen on having babies."

"I will demonstrate my abilities," Griff said sincerely.

Some time later, Griff shifted back into a man and poked around in the kitchen. Quinlan found him staring blankly at some boxes of instant food.

Quinlan laughed. "Have you not seen these before?"

Griff shrugged. "I've seen actual meat and vegetables."

"But these are easy," Quinlan said, turning the box over to show Griff. "They even have instructions!"

Griff brought a box of instant scalloped potatoes closer to his face, reading it.

"How do you know how to make pancakes, but not this?" Quinlan asked curiously.

Griff looked sheepish. "Hex was in the dining room reading me the instructions."

Quinlan laughed so hard, he wheezed.

"Hey, it was an achievement," Griff grumbled. "The last time I cooked, I messed up."

"What did you do?"

"It was ten years ago. Isabel went on vacation and Hex's brothers ate all the meals she'd left for me and the other staff. So I tried to cook, and... the steak charred. Hex felt so guilty, he ended up bringing food over from Blade's."

Quinlan sniffed disapprovingly. "If he and his brothers are going to steal food, then they're responsible for replacing it."

Griff's smile turned fond. "Awww, you're so fierce!"

Quinlan shrugged and made some toast with the leftover bread in the fridge. He cooked some pasta, too, emptying the last jar of sauce onto it.

"Sorry, it's nothing like Isabel's food," Quinlan said self-consciously.

Griff wrapped his arms around Quinlan's waist and hugged him close. "Your food will always be perfect."

"That's because you're biased."

"I'm allowed to be biased! I want you to be my mate."

Quinlan's heart fluttered again. Forever seemed like a lot to promise someone.

But the way Griff looked at him, all warm and soft... Forever with him might not be so terrible.

Griff tucked into the pasta with relish. His face lit up in a bright smile, and he had tomato sauce smeared on one cheek.

"You're so happy," Quinlan murmured.

"I have you and Annie with me. Of course I'm happy." Griff gave Annie a soft strand of spaghetti, then faced Quinlan fully. "Would you like a song?"

Quinlan huffed. "Fine."

Griff swayed from side to side, with tomato sauce still on his face.

"When I was young with stubby toes

I wanted a mate with a stubby nose

Turns out my mate has stubby ears and stubby nipples

Cute little fingers and a stubby pen—"

"Griff," Quinlan squawked, smacking his hand over Griff's mouth. "Annie is here!"

"Oops." Griff shook off Quinlan's hand and made a face at Annie, who giggled. "Awww, lil flame. I can't wait to take you out and buy you all the stuffies. You'll get a mountain of stuffies."

"I don't want her to be buried by stuffies," Quinlan said dryly.

"What about a bathtub full of toys?" Griff looked excited. "A hundred rubber duckies!"

"We can't bring all of that back with us."

"We can if I rent a truck!"

Quinlan groaned. "We don't have to bring rubber duckies home from three states over, you know."

Griff's gaze softened. "Just the important things?"

"Yes." Quinlan glanced around the apartment. "Damn it. I don't know if Wren has anything important that he needs from here. He gave me a list that he was still working on before we left. It was on my phone."

Griff shrugged. "Maybe he'll find a way to tell you. It's time to get dressed and go to the apothecary."

The apothecary was a bus ride away, but the bills in Griff's wallet were all still wet, and he had no coins. In the end, they hailed a cab.

They stepped out some time later onto the busy streets of downtown, Griff staring suspiciously at the people around them. Quinlan hugged Annie close and bumped his shoulder against Griff's side.

Like all others of its kind, the apothecary was filled to the brim with drawers, jars, and sacks of magical ingredients. Quinlan tried not to look at the jars with the unidentifiable globs floating in them.

"We're here for some powders," Griff said to the stooped, ancient shopkeeper when they reached the back of the shop.

"Ah." Mr. Triggly peered through his goggle-thick glasses at Quinlan. "‘Ello, Quinny-boy. Who d'you have with you today?"

Quinlan smiled wistfully. "Hello, Mr. Triggly. This is Griff. I'm moving away to go live with him, I think. So I might not see you again for a while."

"Oh?" Mr. Triggly scrutinized Griff; he was the closest Quinlan had to a grandfather. "I hope he's a good one."

Griff perked up. "I will be the best mate I can be. I've been singing to Quinlan and feeding him and making him feel so gooood."

"Griff," Quinlan hissed, mortified. Mr. Triggly only laughed. To the old man, Quinlan said, "It's not... official or anything. We're leaving today. So we came here for some sea salts to bring home."

"But make it enough for an adult and a child," Griff said disapprovingly. "There's almost no more left. We need enough for several months."

Mr. Triggly's eyebrows shot up; wagged a chiding finger at Quinlan. "I'm happy for you, Quinny-boy. Truly. But you knew you were supposed to come back much sooner when your supplies were running low."

He hummed as he gathered several large bags of powders—much more than Quinlan could've afforded with his lifetime's earnings.

Quinlan squirmed uncomfortably. "Um, you don't have to give me a discount like you usually do. I mean, that's a lot."

Mr. Triggly only smiled. "You're one of my favorite adopted grandchildren, Quinny-boy."

He labeled each bag and scribbled the prices on the thick, yellowed memo pad that he always used. When he'd added up the total, Griff handed Mr. Triggly his credit card.

"I'll look for a cart to carry all of this." Griff disappeared out of the shop.

Mr. Triggly leaned over the counter, looking Quinlan in the eye. "Do you truly feel safe with him?"

Quinlan gulped, but nodded. "More than I thought I would."

"Tell me if he hurts you in any way." The old man looked extremely serious, and Quinlan bowed his head in gratitude.

"I will."

"Good. Now, let me hold Annie one last time. She's going to be so much taller when she comes back for a visit."

Griff returned to the shop some time later with a lopsided cart. The cart had one side of its steel basket bashed in, and the bottom of its basket was dented deeply, like a concrete ball had been dropped into it.

"Oh, no," Quinlan murmured, his heart hurting.

"I want to bring him home," Griff said. "I can hammer him back into shape."

The cart turned to Quinlan, squeaking its wheels hopefully.

Magic existed in metals. Each time it was refined, the magical energy in a metal chunk grew more concentrated. More so when the metal was shaped into things like shopping carts, door locks, and faucets. As the metal parts moved and interacted, their magic changed, and the objects grew sentient.

Sometimes, Quinlan wished the shopping carts didn't react to their surroundings, because some people didn't treat them so well.

He stepped forward, touching the cart's dented surfaces carefully. The cart didn't hurt, but Griff looked pissed-off anyway. "Hey," Quinlan murmured at the cart. "Are you okay?"

The cart bumped his legs gently, raising its flap as though it wanted to make friends. It couldn't raise its flap very far, though—the dent in its side caught against the flap in a terrible screech of metal.

Despite his indignation on the cart's behalf, Griff looked hopeful. "Is this our first pet, fireheart?"

Quinlan cracked a smile. "I guess so. Do you have a name for it?"

"Not yet." Griff shook his head.

Quinlan leaned in, patting the cart's handle. "Hi, cart. You don't have to be afraid of us. Griff will try to get you all fixed up as best as he can. I'm Quinlan, and this is Annie."

The cart nudged Quinlan, then shook itself free to skid in excited circles around them. Griff had to hold it still so it wouldn't crash into the shelves.

"C'mon, let's fill you up," Griff said. He led the cart to the back of the shop, where Mr. Triggly was waiting for them with Quinlan's bath salts.

"Ah, you got yourself the runt of the litter," Mr. Triggly said knowingly. "It's been needing a home for a while. It doesn't fit in at the grocery store because its dents won't let it play nice with the other carts."

"We'll make it right again," Griff promised.

"Good." Mr. Triggly hobbled out from behind the counter to stand next to Quinlan.

Quinlan gave him a hug. "I'll be back to visit when I can. Thanks for—for everything. For helping me with Annie. For being there when—" When my parents died. "You know more about merfolk than me."

Mr. Triggly laughed. "When you're as old as I am, you pick things up."

He hugged Quinlan tightly, then Annie, and also pulled Griff into a hug.

"Take care of Quinny-boy," Mr. Triggly said sternly.

Griff snapped into a salute. "I will with all of my heart. I will sing to him, and court him, and make him feel like he's the most important mate in the world."

Quinlan laughed, his heart fluttering. "You're such an oddball."

"An oddball with love songs," Griff said proudly. "I have more to sing to you!"

Just how vast was Griff's collection of songs, anyway?

"Don't sing them here," he said, pushing Griff out of the shop.

They took a cab to a car rental place next. Griff picked out an SUV with tinted windows and a huge storage area in the back. Then they loaded it up with the salts from the apothecary, their new friend squeaking its wheels nearby.

"Are you going to give him a name?" Quinlan asked. "Since you've already decided that our cart is a him."

Griff studied the cart and rubbed his chin. "Carty McCartingson."

Quinlan couldn't help laughing. "Really?"

"Yeah!"

Griff looked so excited that Quinlan nodded. "Sure. Carty McCartingson it is."

Griff whooped. "Carty! C'mon, you can come along with us on our errands."

The plan was no longer to fly through the night. With the SUV for camouflage, they'd be able to bring several more things home, and they could set off as soon as they were ready.

"I want to buy you chocolate and ice cream and chicken wings and candy," Griff said enthusiastically.

Quinlan laughed. "I can't survive on sweet things and chicken wings."

"But those are good things."

"Are they your favorite?"

Griff's expression turned pensive as they pulled into the parking lot of a department store. Carty followed them in, and it didn't take long for Griff to hunt down the car seats and buy one.

"Chicken wings are my favorite," Griff said quietly. "My dads used to grill them when I was sad. They'd marinate the wings with salt and honey, and I'd get the entire plate piping-hot. When they weren't too busy with my brothers and sisters."

Somehow, Quinlan hated that something had made Griff sad. Did this have anything to do with what Hex had said? That Griff's life hadn't always been easy for him?

The grocery store was next.

"Maybe someone dropped a watermelon into Carty," Griff said doubtfully as they walked through the produce section.

"I don't know. I think a watermelon would've smashed first before it could put that dent in him," Quinlan said, kissing the top of Annie's head.

Griff tickled Annie's chin and patted Carty on its dented side.

They filled Carty with supplies for the trip—water, rotisserie chickens, granola bars, beef jerky, jars of baby food, cans of tuna.

"You liked the tuna I cooked for you," Griff remembered with a smile.

That was right before they'd left on this trip. Griff had seared the tuna on both sides and served it plain—Annie had grabbed a chunk and tried to gnaw on it, much to Griff's delight.

"It was good," Quinlan admitted.

"I'll make more for you."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Griff whispered, pressing a kiss to Quinlan's forehead.

Back at the apartment, Griff helped Quinlan pack his belongings. Their phones were still not working, and Quinlan was starting to get anxious.

"What if I miss something that Wren really needs? It'll take too long to replace our phones at a phone shop. We don't have enough friends here for backup if someone attacks us while we're waiting."

Griff thought for a moment. "There's a simple answer."

"What?"

"I'll pay your rent."

Quinlan's jaw dropped. It... was the best solution. He and Wren wouldn't have to clear their things out by this week, their landlord wouldn't send debt collectors after them, and Wren could return at some other point to decide for himself what he wanted to keep.

"I can't pay you back," Quinlan said.

Griff rolled his eyes. "Fireheart. This is part of my courting. To show you that I can put a roof over your head."

"But I don't want you to think that I'm... taking advantage of you."

"You're not." Griff smiled fondly, nudging Quinlan's side. Then he leaned in and stole a kiss off Quinlan's lips, and it felt like bliss and comfort rolled into one. "I'll load up the car." Griff picked up some bags. "Keep on packing."

Quinlan rolled his eyes. "Yes, Master."

"Ew," Griff said. "Don't call me that. I'm no one's master!"

"You're Hex's."

Griff scrunched up his face. "That makes me sound important."

"Like you aren't?" Quinlan retorted.

"Not to anyone but you."

He was so sappy that Quinlan shook his head, fond and exasperated at the same time.

It took an hour to pack. Griff and Quinlan snacked on the rotisserie chickens in between, feeding some of the juiciest, most tender parts to Annie. What Annie and Quinlan couldn't finish, Griff polished off.

When Quinlan had gone through all his things, Griff drove him to his landlord's house to drop off the cash he'd withdrawn from an ATM. Then they were finally, finally on the road back to Cartfalls, Quinlan's old apartment growing smaller in the rearview mirror.

It was bittersweet, leaving behind the town he'd grown up in. Quinlan had made several memories with his friends and family there.

They were driving along a two-lane highway when a cloud of dust exploded in the distance.

Griff slowed down immediately, tense.

Quinlan's heart thumped. "Shouldn't we be driving faster?"

"I don't know." Griff was glancing at the traffic around them, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

A small figure darted out of the dust cloud, running for the highway. Seconds later, some larger figures emerged and gave chase.

The smaller figure stumbled. Quinlan stopped breathing.

Was that an omega? The person sure seemed like it, with thin limbs and a small body.

The distance shrank between the omega and his pursuers.

"They're catching up," Quinlan whispered. "He has a bundle in his arms."

He and Griff glanced at each other, a wordless sentiment passing between them: What if it was a baby?

"Get in the backseat," Griff said.

Quinlan unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled into the backseat, all the better to protect Annie.

Griff hit the brakes. The car screeched to a stop in front of the fleeing man.

A tiny hand stuck out of the bundle in his arms.

Before Quinlan could tell him to, Griff had already leaned over the passenger seat, throwing the door open. "Get in."