mGabriel 4

[moonshadows]

The sound of a toilet flushing brought Gabriel awake instantly, alert and ready to fight. He cracked one eye open to see Jack - still bare from the waist up - emerge from behind a door he'd hoped was a bathroom rather than a closet, and let out a sigh of relief he didn't bother to hide.

Jack froze. "Gabe? You okay?"

"Yeah. Just not used to other people in my living space," he answered, sitting up, "so hearing a flush..."

"Sorry I woke you." The griffin smiled gently at him. "You look like you're ready to head there yourself. Need a hand?"

Gabriel cautiously put his feet on the floor and stood. "Looks like my legs want to cooperate, but thanks." As Jack started moving again, he said, "If you're not going back to sleep, my previous offer still stands."

Then, before Jack could answer, he went into the bathroom.

He emerged a few minutes later, after a thorough exploration that yielded no razors, to discover the griffin sitting on the other side of the king-sized bed, leaning against the headboard. Gabriel removed the Shambali boots before climbing back into bed and settling close enough to the other man that he could casually put his hand between them and Jack could casually stroke his knuckles again.

"Can I say something?" Jack asked quietly.

Gabriel frowned. "Go ahead."

"I want to talk about physical contact, because I'm a griffin and you're a human and our cultural norms are already different without the can of worms that is your personal experience."

The hand Gabriel had been about to put between them went to his knee instead.

"In the woods, that night, I thought you were homophobic-"

"No."

Jack glanced over, surprised by the vehemence of that one word.

"I don't tolerate homophobia, transphobia, or any other type of bigotry in my presence or in the people I associate with," Gabriel growled. "I grew up forced to be a girl, Jack. I know what it's like. I don't tolerate anyone treating anyone else the way I was treated."

The griffin's expression of surprise softened into something more affectionate and proud. "I was going to say, but after hearing about your childhood I guessed that you have an aversion to anything that might make you seem effeminate or weak."

Gabriel turned away, but he moved his hand from knee to bed. "Yeah."

A warm hand on his; a thumb brushing his knuckles. He relaxed slightly.

"Griffins are a very tactile race. Both lions and eagles groom others of their social group as acts of affection and bonding. There's nothing sexual about it; you get two griffins in the same space, even complete strangers, and within half an hour they'll be touching in a way that would indicate a romantic pairing with humans."

Gabriel relaxed more, guiltily relieved that there wasn't any unspoken offer in the griffin's actions.

"The other thing that gets lost in the cultural gap is that for griffins, a lot of gender role comes from the lion side. Women are expected to do everything except protect the pride from outside threats, and men are expected to be the strong protectors."

"Sounds like humans so far," Gabriel said bitterly.

Jack chuckled. "Except that in griffins, that extends to protecting the male physically while resting. It's a bizarre sort of objectification, where males are expected to be aggressive and strong but otherwise almost babied. When a mated pair go to bed, the man settles down first and the woman takes a protective position around him. The big spoon. And if two unmated griffins are sleeping in the same space, the one perceived to have a higher social standing or greater worth settles down first and takes the protected position."

"That's kind of fucked up."

"So is human gender roles," Jack replied dryly. "God forbid a human male express any weakness. God forbid a griffin male express anything supportive. Children are allowed to help around the house, but once puberty hits...nada. I wasn't allowed to help my mother cook anymore. I like cooking," he complained. "I had to move out before Ma would share her recipes with me, and each time it was with a disclaimer that she was only doing it so her baby boy wouldn't starve, but I really should find a nice girl and settle down."

Gabriel thought about making a comment about how he clearly never had, but then he remembered the whole no dick issue and decided that was a can of worms he didn't want to open.

"I moved into an apartment building in the heart of my precinct," he said quietly. "The women, mothers and grandmothers, sent their daughters or granddaughters to my apartment door with a hot meal after I got home. Said I spent so much of my day serving the community, I shouldn't have to waste what I had left cooking."

Jack laughed softly. "That's one hell of a pride. If you were a griffin, you'd have every female past puberty throwing herself at you."

"Don't think that didn't happen," Gabriel joked. "I told them that if I settled down with one girl, I wouldn't get to taste all the other fabulous dishes the other girl's mothers and grandmothers made."

They laughed together for a minute.

"Anyway," Jack said, "my point was going to be that you're my friend, and I promised to take care of you while you're recovering, so any physical contact I initiate isn't me hitting on you, it's part of what griffins consider being a supportive friend."

Gabriel took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, Jack. I really do. I started making myself the strong protector when I was sixteen and learned that not all girls who feel like boys are lucky enough to be recognized as boys once they hit puberty. It's...really nice to know that when I need someone to lean on because I can't handle it all by myself, I actually have someone to lean on."

The hand on his stopped moving and just squeezed comfortingly.

"You went through some heavy stuff yesterday," Jack said quietly. "Want to talk about it?"

He should. Talking about it would settle him, keep him from just bottling it up. Gabriel scooted closer to Jack, relieved when the griffin draped an arm around him and pulled him closer.

"So after Paris, I wound up in the ocean by the Sydney Opera House. The next time I sneezed, I found myself in the Shambali monastery..."

===

They'd gone from Gabriel's adventures to Jack's history with Angela and Overwatch to wondering why Torbjörn had joined the Reaper's staff when the door opened and Angela stepped in.

"How are y-"

"Why have you not returned Jack's clothes?" Gabriel interrupted. "I said I didn't want him being treated like a prisoner."

Angela twisted her fingers together, eyes lowered.

"You do still have the rest of his clothes, right?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"Then bring them to him."

"But-"

Gabriel's voice dropped to the low, I'm-not-fucking-around, we-can-do-this-the-hard-way-just-say-the-word tone that never failed to get argumentative Caucasian men to cooperate when he used it to say step out of the car, please. "Did I fucking stutter?" he demanded, eyes locked on Angela's, face devoid of any expression.

"I'll...be right back."

The harpy fled. The instant the door was shut, Gabriel relaxed and laughed at Jack's awed expression.

"I'm no stranger to using authority," the griffin said, shaking his head in admiration, "but damn, Gabe! What made you do that?"

"Envy," he answered dryly. "I left my clothes in Nepal and I don't know that there are any here that fit me. I'm tempted to teleport back there and get them. Or, at least, try to teleport. I didn't exactly have a lot of control over it."

"I'd be more comfortable if you didn't." Jack's thumb brushed over Gabriel's knuckles. "Teleporting takes a lot out of you, and you're still recovering from earlier, not to mention from taking the Reaper in general."

Gabriel grimaced. "You're right, but I still wish I had actual clothes."

The door opened, and Angela entered bearing a bundle of cloth. "Your clothes," she said shortly, thrusting it at Jack. "Now, Gabriel, we need to discuss your schedule for the next few days."

"Fine."

The harpy flinched minutely at his hard tone, but seemed otherwise encouraged by a lack of argument. "Being human, you know next to nothing about the supernatural world. Mornings will be devoted to academic lessons. I want Amelie to evaluate your hand to hand skills after dinner, so we can determine what combat training you will require. And then, of course, there is the matter of training your Reaper abilities."

The imaginary metaphysical cat, which had been slumbering contentedly all afternoon, woke up and bristled at Amelie's name. Gabriel quickly thought about the martial arts experience he had and pictured handing the black-feathered harpy her ass, and the bristling relaxed.

Very interesting.

"Gabriel?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, that sounds fine," he said, distracted by the implications of this development.

"I asked what you would like for dinner!"

Oh. Oops. Jack was giving him a curious look, while Angela just looked annoyed.

"A big slab of lasagna with Italian sausage. Like, two pounds. But if I'm going to have my hand to hand evaluated, I'd rather do that before eating." Gabriel waited for Angela to nod, then added, "And I can't exactly fight in this robe."

The harpy colored. "Of course. Your dirty clothes were retrieved with you, and they have since been laundered. I will send them up right away, along with the rest of the packages, and inform Amelie of our change in plans."

With that, she was gone again.

"Yay clothes," Gabriel murmured in relief. "Thank god."

"You sure you're up to hand to hand?" Jack asked.

"To be honest, I'm more concerned with making sure one of the Reaper's temper flares doesn't happen."

Jack winced. "Good point."

"I want you to be there," Gabriel said quietly. "You've pulled me out of it twice, when I hadn't even noticed it happening."

The arm around him tightened, and Jack pressed his cheek briefly against Gabriel's temple. "I've got your back, Gabe."

Gabriel sighed and leaned against the griffin. "Thank you."

===

Dressed once more in POLICE sweatpants, his comfortable tee, and his boots, Gabriel shook himself experimentally out and admired the extensive gym Amelie had constructed over her ten years of residence. He was absolutely going to take advantage of this.

"Ready?" the black-feathered harpy called sharply from the far side of the mat.

Angela gave Jack a nervous look as he walked over to stand beside her, arms crossed, Gabriel's POLICE hoodie over one shoulder.

"Oh, I'm ready." Gabriel grinned as he stepped onto the mat. "The question is...are you?"

Griffin and harpy watched as the other two walked to the center, hesitated, and then exploded into motion. Blows and kicks were traded and blocked, and then they stopped with Amelie in some sort of hold, her back against Gabriel's chest.

"Go easy on me," he taunted, "I've had a rough week."

Amelie snarled and flung herself away as Gabriel released her. They danced around each other for a few seconds before closing again. Jack could see that Amelie was landing several hits, but so was Gabriel and this time, the hold was one that had him holding her down with the weight of his body on top of hers.

"Best two out of three?" he asked pleasantly.

The harpy growled and thrashed, but couldn't dislodge him. "Let me up," she demanded.

"Say please."

"No."

"Then I guess we're done, and I don't need any combat training from you."

Gabriel released her and stood up, walking back towards Jack. Before he reached the edge of the mat, however, Amelie picked herself up and flung herself at him without warning.

Both observers stiffened as the fledgling Mantle's eyes blazed a more brilliant red. He whirled around, arms out to block, but the harpy never made it to him. Thick tendrils of shadow leaped up from the floor to wrap around her arms and legs and there she hung, suspended in the air, glaring.

"That was a very stupid move," Gabriel said in a low, ominous voice. "Didn't you recognize that the Reaper was lending me strength and speed? It knows how you fight, and it hates you. Your humiliation is sating its anger, but if you attack me like that again, I might not be able to stop it."

"Gabe?" Jack called, worry clear in his voice.

"It's okay, Jack, I've got it under control."

A gesture, and the tendrils lowered Amelie to the floor. Gabriel turned and walked off the mat towards the griffin, and only once his feet were on the floor again did the tendrils dissipate.

"I'm vetoing combat training," Gabriel said in a voice like iron. "I will, however, be using the gym regularly. And I want to discuss the Reaper's abilities after dinner."

"You should be able to heal yourself," Angela offered, eyes wide and focused on the other harpy. "That was the first ability Amelie mastered."

Jack gestured Gabriel to a bench, then sat beside him.

Heal. The metaphoric imaginary cat was more like a panther at the moment, silently snarling at its former host because this had proven to him that the cat was how his brain was interpreting the entity sharing his body. He took a deep breath, feeling several still-forming bruises protest. I'm hurt, he thought at it. How do I fix this?

The imaginary panther turned and licked him. That was...probably because Jack had told him about griffin saliva having regenerative properties, but he could still feel his damaged flesh knitting itself back together, and focused on making that happen with all the other places he hurt. It took what felt like forever before he sucked in a deep breath and nothing so much as twinged.

Then his stomach growled.

"Time for dinner," he announced. "Am I going to be eating in bed again, or do I get to sit at an actual table this time?"

Angela looked up from where she was checking Amelie over. "Let me finish here, and we will escort you to the dining room."

"Sounds good to me." Gabriel leaned against Jack and murmured, "How'd I do?"

"Half of me wants to see you in a real fight, and the other half can't decide if it's in awe or terrified," the griffin murmured back. "If you were a griffin, I'd be worrying about my standing as family champion."

Gabriel laughed.

===

The dining room could seat thirty, easily. Portraits of what he guessed were past Mantles hung on the walls, high enough that they seemed to be looking down on anyone sitting at the long table. The chandelier seemed to be magic; there weren't any actual candles, just color-changing flames. And at the head of the table, an ostentatious thronelike chair that looked like it would come alive and speak through him or some shit. Gabriel chose a seat a bout two-thirds of the way towards the head of the table, facing the doorway he suspected his food would come from. Jack sat to his left, and the harpies sat across from them with visible reluctance.

A golem emerged from the doorway wearing a chef's hat and holding a pad. It chirped, and the imaginary cat on his shoulder whispered, What would you like to order?

"Lasagna, with Italian sausage in it. At least two pounds. Water, with lemon. Thank you."

Jack ordered a 24oz prime rib, medium rare, with double corn on the cob and Coke with whiskey as well as water, no lemon. "I'm from Indiana," he said at Gabriel's curious look. "I like corn."

The harpies ordered and the golem retreated.

"Were you able to heal yourself?" Angela asked, one part polite smalltalk and two parts professional interest slash being nosy.

Gabriel waved one hand. "Not a problem. I want to practice it, of course, but for my first time actively using a Reaper power it went easily enough."

Amelie glowered at him. "First time? You teleported!"

"Accidentally. And I turned into mist before that, accidentally."

Angela frowned. "You didn't tell me about that part," she accused Jack.

"I didn't know about that part!"

"Hey!" Gabriel's sharp tone got both harpies looking at him. "Leave off Jack and tell me about what I can fucking expect from being the Mantle. And also what other powers I can expect to manifest, because those shadow things? Not my idea."

"I didn't even know the Reaper could do that," Angela protested. "It's not a power listed in any of the records I have."

The imaginary cat on his shoulder started purring smugly. Gabriel resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

"Okay. After dinner we address consciously using powers. And after that," he said sternly, "we talk about clothes because I'm not impressed with my wardrobe so far."

Fortunately, the chef golem came out with food at that point.

=

After a delicious but awkward dinner, Angela led them all to a comfortable sitting room where Gabriel sat on a loveseat and dared either harpy to say a word as Jack sat next to him.

"Shall we start with turning to mist?" Angela asked primly.

"Sure."

Gabriel closed his eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like, in the darkness, creeping across the floor. He was vividly aware of the texture of the loveseat, but when he opened his eyes all he'd managed was to dissolve his right hand. The imaginary cat watched him warily, ready to bolt, and he tried to silently reassure it that he wasn't upset, he'd just been startled that first time and panicked. This was fine. This was fine. Uh. How did he get his hand back to being a hand?

Slowly, he pulled the mist back into himself, re-assembling his hand like watching a Slinky come back together. Then, slowly, he dissolved one finger and pulled it back together.

"Good control," Jack murmured, thumb stroking the back of Gabriel's left hand. "Doing great, Gabe."

"I think I can get my whole body," he said, but Angela shook her head.

"Do not exhaust yourself. You can practice more tomorrow. Translocation is an ability I think you may be able to master," she said brightly. "It is a sort of short-range teleport. Try that."

Could he do that? Gabriel stood and moved to the corner of the room, thoughts focused on the doorway. He wanted to be over there. Eyes closed, deep breath, reached-

Something smacked into his hand. Some cold, hard stone surface, and choked-back sounds of surprise came from exactly where the other three had been. Gabriel opened his eyes to see his own hand flopping around on the floor and had to sit down before he started laughing hysterically. Walking his hand back just made him laugh harder from the absurdity of trying to steer from a third-person perspective. Finally he gave up and pulled and his hand reappeared on its wrist. It was a handful of minutes before the hilarity wound down and he could wipe the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Need some work on that, I think," he chuckled. "Woo. Okay. What's next?"

"Maybe actual teleportation?" Angela suggested doubtfully.

Amelie crossed her arms and snorted. "I doubt he can manage it on his own."

Gabriel stood up and shook himself off. "Maybe I'll go see Melina and ask if she'd design something for me," he tossed off casually, but he was thinking of Ana's house and how he wanted to reassure her that he was okay.

He'd done this enough; he remembered how it felt to dissolve, the jarring sense of jumping between here and there. The imaginary cat half-stood, ready to answer his command, but he wanted to try this on his own. Yeah, Ana's house. The living room. Reach out and flow and-

Gabriel disappeared.

=

The room was nothing like where he was expecting to find himself. It was small, somewhere between "cozy" and "closet" without even a window. Just a bed, a desk, and a small chest of drawers. The covers were rumpled and warm, and there was a book open on the desk without a bookmark as if the owner had set it down to leave the room for a moment. The imaginary cat on his shoulder gave him as look as if to say, don't look at me, I wasn't the one driving. Then something slammed into his back, pushing him face-down onto the bed.

Gabriel lashed out with an elbow, catching his assailant below the ribcage. The arms around him loosened their grip as their owner let out a pained grunt. He pushed himself up off the bed as much as he could, turning around to face-

"You should not have come back, Reyes-san." Genji's voice was a low hiss, and his dark eyes almost seemed to glow.

Like a mouse caught in the stare of a snake, Gabriel felt his mind turn to pliant goo under the vampire's charm. His body felt unbearably relaxed, beyond the contentment he'd felt with Hanzo and into uncomfortable heat. He didn't want this, didn't want to feel this unnatural lust, wanted to struggle and fight, but he couldn't think past the ache in his dick.

Genji pressed his victim back against the bed, his tongue swiping up Gabriel's throat. "I'm going to enjoy this," he murmured.

The present and the past collided, the forty-year-old man blurring with the twelve-year-old who looked like a girl, the older teen on top, holding him down, telling him to just lie there and relax, murmuring that he was going to enjoy making Gabriel forget all about that 'boy' nonsense and show him how much better it was to be a girl.

There was no subtlety to Genji's bite. It was sharp, the pain momentarily overwhelming artificial lassitude, and Gabriel's rage boiled up alongside the Reaper's. Cold fury and liquid steel filled him as he shoved the vampire off, distantly aware of a warm trickle on his neck. Shadow tendrils erupted from everywhere and nowhere, holding Genji suspended in the air to seethe and snarl. The Reaper's hunger filled Gabriel and his mouth watered. Reach in, grab it, eat it. He reached out for Genji's soul, fingers brushing the vampire's chest, sliding through flesh like water. He would have feasted on you, he deserves it. He did deserve it, but Gabriel pulled his hand back. Having his soul eaten would be a swift and painless death; Gabriel wanted the vampire to suffer.

"What are you?" Genji spat, struggling against the shadows that held him up.

Gabriel smiled nastily. "I'm the fucking Reaper."

The vampire went still and pale, the look of oh shit on his face almost worth everything. Still flooded with the Reaper's power, Gabriel reached-

-and appeared in a room similar to the one Jack had been in, only this one was inhabited by someone who looked very similar to Mondatta. Must be Zenyatta, Gabriel thought. Nine pale blue eyes blinked.

"Oh, my. I had intended to ask for an audience, but I did not expect that you would visit me so soon on your own, and with a visitor."

A what? Gabriel glanced over to see the vampire still hanging from shadowy restraints, looking even more cowed. Okay then. The imaginary cat shrugged at him, as if asking, didn't you want this?

"You are bleeding," the djinn pointed out mildly.

Absently, Gabriel focused on his neck and felt the flesh knit back together. "That is what happens when a vampire bites someone."

The djinn drew himself up to his full height and fixed Genji with a stern look that made the vampire wilt. "Genji! I thought you were abstaining from human blood!"

"Hanzo bit him first," Genji whined.

"Hanzo was dying," snarled Gabriel, "and he asked permission."

"Genji! You bit the Reaper without permission?"

The djinn's clear disapproval made Genji look like he wanted to slink away, but the shadow tendrils weren't allowing him to move. Ears flat back, the imaginary cat lashed its tail.

"I didn't know he was the Reaper..." It was a thin excuse, and Genji knew it.

"Do you remember what I told you?" Gabriel asked in a misleadingly gentle voice. "That if you ever touched me again, you might be the one losing blood? I told you I did not consent, and you ignored that." At his direction, the tendrils tightened, pulling Genji's limbs to the point of resistance. "Apologize."

Genji glared. The tendrils pulled harder.

Zenyatta crossed his arms. "Genji, apologize."

"...sorry," the vampire muttered, not sounding sorry at all.

Gabriel lowered him to the floor and dismissed most of the tendrils, keeping one around the vampire's ankles. "Zenyatta, you know Genji?"

"He was my student," the djinn answered warily, "although it has been some time since I have seen him."

"Then he can stay in your room until I decide what to do with him," Gabriel said shortly. "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

"About the case, yes."

Gabriel sighed. "Fine. I'll send for you when I'm done. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The djinn bowed. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Reaper."

Translocation. Short-range teleport. Gabriel mentally looked at the imaginary cat. A little help, maybe? I want to get back to Jack.

The cat extended one metaphoric paw and tapped his cheek. Two dots, connected by a line. All he had to do was follow it. He let go and flowed-

=

"Gabriel!"

Jack hugged him tightly, and Gabriel let himself relax against the griffin.

"Are you okay? Your neck..."

"I'm fine. He didn't get anything. And," he added in a sharp tone, "I misjudged my return slightly and successfully translocated here from Zenyatta's room. I'm done testing myself for today, and I want Zenyatta brought here so I can discuss the case with him."

Angela nodded. "I will escort Jack back to your room," she said. "Amelie, if you could escort our guest...?"

"Of course," the other harpy answered in a tone that somehow conveyed resentment as well as agreement.

"I'm okay," he murmured to the griffin, who was still holding him somewhat desperately. "Really."

Jack let out a shaky breath. "Sorry. Griffin instincts." Reluctantly, he let go and backed a few steps towards Angela. "I'll be waiting," he said, looking both like he wanted to be wrapped around Gabriel again and like he was grateful to have a reason to leave the room.

Gabriel gave him a brief smile and then scratched at one cheek. "Angela, I don't care if you're afraid I'm going to slit my wrists, I want a shave."

The harpy colored slightly. "I'll see what I can do. Jack, this way please..."

With a last concerned look, the griffin followed her out of the room and the dark-feathered harpy followed them.

Zenyatta slipped into the room a few minutes later and bowed.

"Thank you for seeing me so soon, Reaper. I know you are still adjusting to your position, but you seem to have remarkable control for how brief a period of time it has been."

Gabriel waved him to a chair. "It's certainly been a learning experience. Please, have a seat and tell me all about the case."

He listened as Zenyatta explained the nature of the djinn and how they were dying, but Overwatch had dismissed their plea for help without giving any sort of explanation.

"Why Overwatch?" he asked, frowning. "It's my understanding that they only represent this quarter of North America."

The djinn looked uncomfortable. "I don't have an answer for that, unfortunately. Our leader, Mondatta, is the one who has been dealing with this issue."

Interesting. Gabriel leaned forward. "When did he make this request, do you know?"

Nine eyes blinked in unison. "Ah...I have been here for five years and four months waiting for a change in Reapers, and Mondatta waited a year before being told his request had been denied."

"And when did he notice the deaths?"

Zenyatta looked sad. "Fifteen years we had spent going over records to confirm our suspicions before Mondatta told me that Overwatch had turned us down."

Was it a coincidence that Mondatta had waited until Jack was retired? Was there some history with Liao that Gabriel wasn't aware of? He suspected there was, considering Overwatch's limited reach. This was absolutely something he wanted to talk over with Jack.

"We are prepared to offer fair compensation for your assistance," Zenyatta said diffidently. "But if you are willing, I have been authorized to give you a taste of what might be yours."

Gabriel was pretty sure the Reaper was only supposed to collect payment from the losing side, and that this constituted bribery, but he couldn't deny that his history with Liao might influence his decisions, or that he was curious.

"Go ahead."

The djinn moved from chair to floor and assumed the Lotus position, eyes closed. After a moment, he started glowing with a soft, golden light and a second set of ethereal arms unfolded like wings. Then a third set, and then the glow flared and washed the world away.

===

Liao sighed and knelt before his body, straightening his limbs and closing his brown eyes. "It didn't have to be this way," she said softly. "I tried to protect you from this. I know you thought you would have been fine, that the Reaper wouldn't have corrupted you, but you don't know it like I do. I couldn't let you keep it."

Then a trickle of black smoke started to slip out from between his slightly-parted lips, and a smile of triumphant anticipation spread across her face...

=

He was at a fancy restaurant with Jack, joking about how much the griffin had gone all out. Jack flushed slightly and said that this place was nearly impossible to get into without a reservation.

"Is that why we're here two days before the anniversary of my becoming the Reaper?" Gabriel teased.

Jack flushed deeper. "No, this is the day I wanted."

"So you forgot."

The tips of his ears were red now. "It's the anniversary of the day we met," he protested.

Gabriel laughed. "I know, I'm just giving you a hard time."

The waiter arrived and poured them some wine. They ordered, and he left again.

"Jack..."

The griffin paused, hand outstretched but not yet touching his glass.

"I went to Melina's."

"Gabe..."

"Asked her to make something for you."

"...Gabe, no..."

"And I'm really hoping you'll agree to wear it."

Jack covered his face and moaned, a long, drawn-out nooooooo. Grinning, Gabriel took out a small, velvet box and opened it. When the griffin lowered his hands, his breath caught at the sight of the ring inside.

"Oh, Gabe, yes!"

=

The Reaper sat on his throne, ignoring whoever-it-was that had come begging for help. Behind the throne, trophies were mounted on the wall. Vampire fangs, djinn eyes, pieces of dried skin, harpy arms, and more. All the Reaper's attention was on the figure sprawled across his lap, mostly naked except for a loincloth and the shackles that kept him locked in human form. The hard muscle that once covered his frame had been eaten away, leaving the griffin nearly skin and bone, and that skin was covered in bruises and love-bites. The Reaper's skin was dark, almost a gunmetal grey, and his teeth were sharpened points. There was almost nothing left to show that the Reaper had once been a man named Gabriel Reyes, and the griffin's expression reflected grief for the man that had become a monster rather than misery at his own condition.

===

Gabriel sat bolt upright on the couch, breathing heavily and sweating like he'd just run a race. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded angrily. The imaginary cat clung to his shoulder, metaphoric fur puffed out and pupils wide.

The djinn looked pale and shaken. "Glimpses of possible futures only. Things that may never come to pass."

"I..."

"You must not talk about them!" Zenyatta said hurriedly, almost panicked. "This information is for you and you alone. They are only possibilities, not promises."

"Fine. I'll send for you when I've processed this. In the meantime," Gabriel growled, "keep Genji in your room because if I see him, I might be tempted to rip his fangs out and mount them."

The djinn paled further. "Understood. We will both await your decision, Reaper."

Gabriel stood and stalked towards the door. "Good," he tossed over his shoulder without looking.

The chef golem emerged as Gabriel strode into the dining room, imaginary cat translating as it chirped. Reaper?

"Can I get a bottle of whiskey?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

Chirp, whistle. Of course, Reaper.

He counted three minutes, trying to soothe the rattled imaginary cat but failing because he was just as rattled himself, before the golem came back and offered him a slightly-dusty bottle. It was about the same size as he was used to, twelve ounces or 350ml, but the glass was a weirdly faceted shape and the label was in no language - or alphabet - he recognized.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the bottle.

The golem chirped a relieved you're welcome and retreated.

Gabriel left the dining room and broke the seal on the bottle, downing about a third of the bottle before stopping to admire it. Whatever it was, it was good. Jack was pacing when he opened the door to his room, and he turned to look at Gabriel like a deer scenting a wolf.

"Met with Zenyatta," Gabriel said brusquely. "He gave me some information for my eyes only, and I am not drunk enough to deal with this evening but this whiskey is really good, so if you need a drink or just want to try it, now's your chance."

Wordlessly, Jack held his hand out for the bottle and downed about a third before handing it back.

"I'm not going to be real chatty tonight, but it's not your fault. Just wanted you to know that."

"Want me to go griffin?" Jack asked, his voice rough.

Part of Gabriel wanted to deny the offer that was clearly meant to be comforting. He was a man, he didn't need comfort. But the imaginary cat was still wound up, and Jack looked like he needed the comfort more than Gabriel did, and if he was being honest with himself, he wanted the comfort.

"Sure. Thanks."

He looked away and sipped at the whiskey until his bed was full of feathers and fur, then downed the rest of the bottle and climbed into bed. Jack nuzzled him thoroughly, as if reassuring himself that Gabriel was still in one piece, and licked at the fuzz growing on his scalp. Then he pulled Gabriel close and started purring.

It was hard to say which of the three futures was most unnerving. The implication that Liao would kill him for the Reaper was bad enough, but the possibility of falling prey to the Reaper's temper until he was a monster who would not only torture someone he cared about, but potentially murder people and keep trophies? That's what made him drink hoping to forget. And at the same time, that second one where he'd proposed to the griffin...

That terrified him, a lifetime of hard lessons screaming to push Jack away and protect himself while he questioned his very identity. Did he harbor those feelings for Jack? Was he gay? If he was in a relationship with someone whose birth form was an animal, what did that say about his sexuality? And was it even a sexuality if he wasn't sexually attracted? But even if Jack looked past the fact that no amount of testosterone had ever made him want to fuck...what...

His thoughts stopped going in straight lines, and he let himself drift in the white world of Jack purring, one wing protectively over him.

===

Waking up sucked.

The pounding headache was first, reminding him that he'd drunk too much before he even remembered anything else. The light was too bright, his breathing was too loud in his ears, his throat was dry when he swallowed, and his stomach was considering rebellion. He lay exactly where he was, not moving, waiting for his stomach to settle down.

Then he felt a hand on his head, gently stroking the fuzz on his scalp while a low voice muttered soothing nonsense in a low rumble and his mind whispered, Jack.

Jack urged him up just enough to drink from a glass held to his lips, and Gabriel sucked down cool, sweet water.

"Feeling up to food?" the griffin asked quietly.

"More water," he answered in a croak.

Jack helped him drink another glass of water, and some of the pounding eased while his stomach decided this tribute was insufficient.

"I have fruit - pineapple, watermelon, and tangerine sections - and scrambled eggs with plain toast."

Gabriel wanted all of it, but moving was still not something he felt up to. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "Watermelon," he whispered, and found a chunk pressed against his lips.

Silently, he let Jack feed him chunks of melon by hand until they were gone and the world seemed like a less hostile place. The tangerine was next, and that gave him the strength to open his eyes.

"Ready to sit up?" Jack asked gently. He didn't look like he was judging Gabriel for being hung over. He looked...like he was genuinely enjoying the chance to do this for Gabriel.

"Please," he whispered, remembering the way the griffin's expression had lit up in the second vision when he'd seen the ring. He wanted to ask how griffin society dealt with homosexual individuals but didn't fucking dare.

The imaginary cat was awake and staring at Jack as if he were a particularly perplexing puzzle it was trying to solve.

Jack pulled him up to sit against the headboard. "Eggs and toast, or more fruit?"

Gabriel's stomach growled. "Eggs and toast. Thank you."

He didn't reach for the fork, and Jack's expression as he started feeding Gabriel was one of hopeful wonder. Silently, he ate everything the griffin offered him and drank another glass of water.

"I'm going to have the golems take this back," Jack said as he loaded empty dishes back onto the tray. "Want anything else?"

"Just to talk," Gabriel said tiredly.

He watched as Jack opened the door and conversed quietly with the golem before handing the tray over. Then he climbed back into bed and sat against the headboard with Gabriel, close enough to offer physical contact without assuming that it was welcome.

Gabriel scooted over to close the distance, feeling guiltily content as Jack's arm came up around him and pulled him closer while the imaginary cat settled in his lap. "Tell me about Liao," he started, making the cat tense up. "I've known her for ten years but I'm realizing I don't know much about her at all." He swallowed uneasiness at the memory of that first vision. "She wouldn't tell me what kind of supernatural being she is."

"She never told me, either," Jack said quietly. He took a deep breath. "Did you know that griffins are one of the races with a keen sense of smell? I could smell a vampire on you when you came back, and...it was Genji, wasn't it? I've never met him, but I've smelled him on Hanzo a few times. Was awkward when I asked and found out it was his brother. Anyway. Uh. The Reaper has a scent. It's kind of unnerving, like old blood and clay, and it's stronger when you use your powers."

"But you're not put off by it," Gabriel said in a sort of question.

"Yeah. Uh. Amelie still has it as part of her scent, even though she's not the Reaper anymore. How did she survive?"

"Angela resurrected her."

Jack shuddered. "She couldn't do that when she was part of Overwatch, and that brings up all sorts of disturbing implications."

Gabriel frowned. "Well, yeah, raising the dead is sort of creepy-"

"Not like that. Liao also smells like the Reaper, and always has. I just never knew what the scent was until I smelled it on you."

"Oh. Fuck." That would explain why in the vision, she said you don't know it like I do. "Wait, how did she survive?"

Jack hugged him tighter. "There's a cat who's been in my family for generations. She's not...really a cat, she was a witch who happened to be trapped in the shape of a cat when a god or djinn ripped her magic out. She's stuck like that, ageless and immortal, until she's reunited with her magic."

Shit. Shit. That would explain why Liao had talked about the Reaper like it was some sort of misunderstood folk hero when Ana had sounded like the only reason she was being neutrally charitable about the thing was because she didn't want him to freak out at being chosen for its host.

He licked his lips. "So...just to say it out loud...we're both suspecting that she was the original host of the Reaper?"

The imaginary cat clung to his shoulder, pupils wide and tail puffed out. What did it say about Liao when the possibility of being reunited with her terrified the embodiment of violent death?

Jack sighed. "Yeah."

"Fuck."

===

Grimly, Gabriel told Jack about the case the djinn were bringing against Overwatch, and his suspicions that something was afoot. Jack confirmed that he wouldn't have dismissed the request out of hand, and agreed that something sounded fishy. It was a welcome distraction when Angela showed up with an electric shaver and a warning that his lessons would start in an hour.

It was a relief to be able to shave, and he was about to start on his scalp when he remembered a lion tongue licking him. He glanced at Jack. The griffin was clearly restraining himself, arms crossed and frowning.

"Your turn," Gabriel said instead, handing him the shaver and trying not to think about how twenty seconds could make him reconsider what he'd done with his hair for twenty years.

Jack looked much younger without the stubble, and Gabriel chose not to think about he fact that he was smiling, or that Jack was smiling back. If he started down the hole of if he was really feeling things or only assuming he did because of that second future, he was going to go crazy.

They emerged from the bathroom to see a pair of plastic shopping bags on the bed. Generic sweatpants, tee-shirts, socks, and underwear had never looked so beautiful. Gabriel grabbed his selections, ripped tags off, and headed for the bathroom again.

"Shy?" Jack asked when Gabriel emerged again. It wasn't a teasing tone, it was a tone of trying to figure something out.

Gabriel averted his eyes. "Ambiguous genitalia, remember? I have a lifetime of not wanting anyone to see my junk, and even though you know..."

The griffin hugged him, and part of Gabriel hated how much the rest of him liked it. "Say no more. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't something to be worried about."

=

Angela was surprised when both of them showed up for lessons, and especially when Gabriel requested that they start with the djinn and the Construct War. The Reaper's mansion had the sort of library he'd only seen in movies, and their lessons were almost more about navigating the dizzying room than about history. While she was pleased to see Gabriel's enthusiasm, she nonetheless asked warily why he had chosen this subject. Jack filled her in on their suspicions.

"This is my first case," Gabriel told her when Jack was done. "And something smells fishy. I want all the information I can get because so far, neither side has told me everything."

The harpy seemed almost personally insulted that the Reaper could potentially be treated like a pawn in a centuries-old grudge match.

Gabriel asked if it was customary for the Reaper to collect payment from the 'winning' side in a case, and when the answer was no, asked about bribery.

"Some parties will promise any number of things to try to win the Reaper to their side," Angela said slowly, disapproval all over her face. "Gabriel...did Zenyatta offer you something?"

He shared his suspicions that the djinn had (either intentionally or unwittingly) given him glimpses of the future in attempts to frighten him somehow. He refused to provide any details of any of the futures, citing the double-guessing he'd been doing that morning and how they didn't need to all be doing that. Privately, he was thankful that thinking about the third future - where he had been taken over by the Reaper - brought only an iron determination to not let that happen. The first future was similarly easy to disregard; now that he knew what Liao was, just knowing what she might do was enough. No, the only one that still shook him was the second one and, weirdly enough, that one seemed to calm the imaginary cat as much as it rattled him.

Lunch was sandwiches, stacks of them, with strawberry lemonade because apparently Jack liked the stuff and when Gabriel tried it, he found that it liked it as well.

Translocation practice happened after lunch, with Gabriel learning that it was much easier to do within line of sight, but he could make it work with a person or place he knew as the end goal.

They hit the gym afterwards, Gabriel much more at home with the equipment than Jack was. He lifted weights in a number of ways while the griffin ran laps, testing to see how much strength he'd lost over the last week before joining Jack on the track.

Once they'd cooled down, showered, and changed, they went to the dining room where they devoured heaping bowls of pot roast before retiring to their room to digest.

"Talked to Ana last night," Jack said quietly as they leaned against each other. "She tried to get into your dreams, but only found some blackness with a bird-skull face."

"That's probably the Reaper," Gabriel sighed. "You told her I was alright?"

"Yeah, and that I'm watching over you. Genji's missing, though, and that worried her."

"He's in Zenyatta's room. You can let her know he's grounded for trying to bite me." Gabriel paused. "Is there a legal term for when a vampire charms an unwilling victim?"

"You mean aside from preying on them?"

Gabriel scowled. "Yeah, something more like sexual assault or rape."

The griffin hugged him tighter. "You said Genji's in Zenyatta's room?"

"Yes. And that's where he's staying unless he wants me to rip out his fangs."

Jack laughed. "And here i was going to threaten to rip his legs off for you."

He found himself laughing along with Jack on that. The thought of the griffin being so outraged on his behalf made him feel warm and fuzzy in a way he didn't want to examine too closely past the imaginary cat looking up in surprise before purring quietly.

When they started getting sleepy, it seemed like too much effort to separate and the thought of being alone in that king-sized bed felt...cold. Gabriel stretched out with his back to the griffin, his only comment a warning to not get too fresh with his hands before he pretended to be asleep.

It took a handful of minutes before Jack fitted himself to Gabriel's back, and when he did, the imaginary cat's purring seemed to sum up his thoughts. It wasn't being cuddled by a half-ton lionbird, but it was warm and made him feel content and Gabriel slipped easily into sleep.

===

The next morning, for the first time, Gabriel had breakfast in the dining room. The harpies were already there, and hearing Gabriel answer questions like 'how do you want your eggs?' and 'butter or jam on your toast?' made them give him hard looks.

"I wasn't aware you understood ancient harpy," Angela said carefully.

Jack looked sharply at her. "I thought they were speaking traditional griffin, but...Gabe?"

He shrugged. "The Reaper is translating for me." Although that ended the questions, it caused the harpies to give each other a long, uncertain look. Gabriel ignored it. "Angela, we need to talk today about how the Reaper judges cases. What the procedure is, things like that."

"Of course." She pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line. "Although a new Reaper is given a grace period of one month to adjust before actually attempting to do their job. I know you seem fine, but I fully expect your body to attempt to reject the Reaper again in a week and a half."

"Speaking of," Jack said, "it's Christmas next week."

Amelie snorted. "Need to go shopping for last-minute gifts for your friends? Or, at least, the ones that are left?"

For only a split second, Jack's expression was one of loss and deepest grief. But a split second was all Gabriel needed to feel the Reaper fill him with fury that he didn't really disagree with.

Shadow tendrils, whispered the imaginary cat. They were concepts and images more than words. Spears, piercing her body in a dozen places, pinning her to the chair to bleed out.

Gabriel disagreed. Bind her.

Rage; the black-feathered harpy deserved death!

There are things worse than death, Gabriel insisted firmly as the shadow tendrils wrapped tightly around Amelie. Which is worse, death or submitting to Liao again?

The imaginary cat was silent for a long minute while Angela called Amelie's name in alarm and Jack uttered Gabriel's. Submission, it conceded.

The shadow tendrils fell away.

"That's twice I've kept the Reaper from killing you," Gabriel said evenly. "Things that make me angry make it furious, and hurting Jack makes me very angry."

Amelie sneered, but reconsidered the comeback that was obviously on her tongue.

Gabriel realized that Jack's hand was on his, thumb brushing his knuckles, and the imaginary cat was slowly relaxing under that soothing gesture. "Did you have any Christmas plans?" he asked the griffin, as though the last minute hadn't happened.

"I promised my folks I'd be there," he answered quietly.

"Better than my plans," Gabriel said. He looked at Angela with his go ahead, my body camera has been on this whole time, I'm sure the judge would love to hear what you have to say expression. "We're going to Jack's parents' house for Christmas," he announced.

The harpy lowered her eyes and muttered some sort of agreement. A moment later, the chef golem returned with their breakfast orders.

===

After breakfast, the morning was spent learning about Reaper protocol. Jack absorbed the knowledge more easily than Gabriel, but he was more familiar with political procedures to begin with. Either Amelie hadn't been real big on the formalities of the position, or the Reaper just didn't care, because Gabriel got no help on that end. A hesitant comment from Angela about being pleased that Gabriel was taking his responsibilities seriously suggested it was a little of column A and a little of column B.

"What..." she said in a quiet moment towards the end of their lessons. Then she swallowed. "What would the Reaper have done to Amelie?"

Carefully, because he hadn't tried this before, Gabriel formed a shadow tendril and shaped it into a rough model of a figure sitting in a chair. Then he pulled up half a dozen smaller tendrils and used them to impale the figure. Jack watched impassively, but Angela flinched.

"Why did you stop it?" the harpy whispered. "I know you have no love for her."

Gabriel glared at her. "I was a cop for twenty fucking years, and I got into law enforcement to protect people, not to hurt them. I'm not going to just take the law into my own hands, even if I am the law in some ways. Amelie killed people, but her fate isn't for me to decide. I don't doubt that there's some sort of supernatural justice system, and if they ever catch her, it will be on them to decide her punishment. I don't kill."

"But...as the Reaper..."

"I have the right to eat the souls of those I rule against, I know." He glowered at her for a moment. "That's a right, not an obligation. I can't be the only Mantle in history with a moral objection to committing murder."

A soft sound from the doorway to the library made them all turn to see Zenyatta there, awkwardly holding a book.

"Forgive me," he said, "but I came to return this and happened to overhear. Although I am young for a djinn, I have known over eighty Mantles and I would be delighted to share my knowledge."

"Come in," Gabriel told him, waving vaguely at a chair. "Have a seat. Share away."

With more enthusiasm than he expected he would have, Gabriel listened to Zenyatta talk about past Mantles, the abilities they'd had and the way they'd used their powers. He was not, in fact, the only Mantle in history with an objection to murdering, and vindicated when the djinn stated in no uncertain terms that the better the person, the more effective - and powerful - a Reaper they were. Interestingly, a Reaper's lifespan seemed to be inversely proportional to the number of souls they ate, as if they were feeding a bit of themselves to the entity at the same time. The underlying nature of the entity was a subject of great debate in some djinn circles, but no construct had ever been a Mantle.

That's when Gabriel realized that at some point, Jack had started stroking the back of one hand, and the imaginary cat was too relaxed by that attention to care that a djinn was sitting so close. Or, more accurately, the griffin's attention was more appealing than the presence of its natural prey.

"When I'm good and settled," Gabriel said, "I'd be happy to share my insight into the Reaper's nature."

The djinn brightened. "You feel you have already begun to understand it?"

He gestured to Jack. "See what he's doing? It's keeping the Reaper relaxed and content enough to not care that you, a member of the race it was created to kill, are sitting right there."

Zenyatta and Angela both looked in surprise at the very surprised griffin.

"Gabriel," Angela asked in a voice that shook slightly, "how does the Reaper feel about me?"

He gave the imaginary cat an inquiring look. It shrugged.

"Ambivalent. I guess you're useful enough that it sort of tolerates you and doesn't care unless you do something it really doesn't like."

"I see," she murmured. "Humbling. Well, in any case, it is almost time for lunch. Zenyatta, thank you for sharing your knowledge. If you are feeling charitable, would you mind writing down everything you have told us? A great deal of it was not in the records here in the mansion."

"It would be my pleasure," he answered, beaming. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will fetch my lunch and return to my room."

"Of course," she murmured, and they all watched as the djinn bowed and left. "I have much to think about," the harpy told the other two somberly. "If you will excuse me..."

Gabriel nodded, and they watched her leave, as well.

Jack looked at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"Amelie was dying when she passed the Reaper to me," Gabriel said. "I suspect Angela needs to go rethink her morals now that the implication has been made that Amelie is not a very good person because she was such a weak Reaper."

The griffin smiled slightly. "Whereas you were teleporting on your first day."

Gabriel scooted his chair closer so he could lean against the griffin. "Yeah, well...did I tell you that Hanzo said I was wasted on my human pride?"

Jack put an arm around the Mantle. "Really? When was this?"

"In the first five minutes of meeting him," Gabriel chuckled. "Told me my 'flock' was lucky to have me but that I was wasted on them. That if I'd been born something other than human, I could make a much greater mark on the world and children would be learning my name for centuries."

"Well, you're the Reaper now," Jack said. "And I think he was right, but I'm biased."

Gabriel laughed, but in one corner of his mind, he wondered how griffins flirted.

===

Afternoon practice was teleporting, with and without a passenger. He focused on Jack's ravine, wanting someplace he remembered where there would be no witnesses, and bringing Jack along once he'd gotten the hang of it. There was a moment, before he coalesced into himself, where he could see everything and determine if he was in the right spot, or about to phase into a person or object, and check for immediate danger. Translocation, he realized as he popped from the top of the ravine to the bottom, was more like condensing himself to that all-seeing point and zipping towards where he wanted to be.

He and Jack spent a comfortable hour or so lounging in the griffin's nest - with Jack in his natural form - ostensibly letting Gabriel rest from all that magical exertion. Whether Jack had any ulterior motives or not, Gabriel was greedily content to let the griffin nuzzle and lick his peach fuzz, using one foreleg as a pillow while the other held him close. The imaginary cat tucked itself between their bodies, purring a higher counterpoint to the griffin's low rumble.

"I thought lions couldn't purr," he said lazily.

"Rrrh. Raah rrwr."

No, translated the Reaper, but griffins are different.

Gabriel reached up with one hand and scratched under Jack's mane. "Can eagle-headed griffins purr?"

"Rrrh. Ruh rawr," No, and they can't roar.

"Sucks to be them. Being cuddled by a purring griffin is the best."

Jack started slightly, the purring briefly silenced before it redoubled and he pulled Gabriel closer.

A few minutes later, Gabriel said, "Hey, Jack? How come the Reaper can translate lion? Was there a griffin Mantle at some point in the past? Can eagle-headed griffins even understand lion-headed ones?"

The Reaper translated the stream of sounds Jack was making. Griffins understand both languages, although we can only speak one. Traditional griffin is the same as ancient harpy, apparently, whereas alternate griffin is what I speak. We'd have to ask the harpy, or maybe the djinn, about a griffin mantle.

"Maybe later," Gabriel sighed. "I'm getting hungry enough that it's overriding the sleepy. Thinking maybe a rack or two of ribs and some fries. What do you think?"

Jack shrank back down to human, still hugging Gabriel to his chest, and laughed. "Would you believe I've never had ribs?"

"Not even as a griffin?"

"Not enough meat for it to be worth the effort."

"Oh, Jack, you're missing out. Let's go back."

He hugged Gabriel tighter for a moment before letting go. "Okay. And tomorrow, we can practice getting to my folks' house?"

"Of course," Gabriel said, sitting up to look at him. "Uh. Should we introduce ourselves? Warn them that you're bringing the Reaper to dinner?"

Jack frowned absently. "I think we'll need to talk about it later tonight."

"Fair enough." Gabriel wrapped a tendril around the griffin and reached.

===

Four racks of ribs and two pounds of steak fries later, Gabriel translocated both of them to his room, where they stretched out side by side with identical groans of culinary contentment.

"If I had any idea that Boyardee could make ribs that good, I wouldn't have bothered with the sandwiches," Gabriel sighed, both hands on his stomach.

"Boyardee?"

"You know, the one with the chef's hat. I know it doesn't have an official name, but I ate a lot of Spaghetti-Os as a kid and the brand that makes them is Chef Boyardee so..."

Jack chuckled. "Makes sense. So...my parents."

Gabriel maneuvered a little closer. "Yeah?"

"I...haven't been the most social, the last couple of years. Remember I said griffins are very tactile? We're also real big on pride, whether that's family or friends. Amelie murdered a lot of people I cared about," Jack said quietly. "My folks know how much I was hurting because I stepped down from leading my pride and barely came to see them for holidays. When I show up with a friend, they're going to assume I've taken a mate because in their minds, only a bond that strong could bring me out of my grief."

Well, that was a lot to think about. Gabriel rolled laboriously over to hug Jack's head awkwardly to his chest, but it was worth it to feel the griffin shudder and hug him back.

"And I assume they're not going to believe you when we tell them we're just friends?"

"Probably not. They'll just assume it's a temporary partnership that I'm using to fill the hole."

"So rebound boyfriend rather than husband."

"Something like that, yeah." Jack sighed and nuzzled Gabriel's chest briefly. "The problem is...you're male."

The problem? The problem was not them assuming a relationship that wasn't there, the problem wasn't that he was human, the problem was that it was gay?

"Explain the problem to me," Gabriel said carefully. "I don't want to make any assumptions based on human culture."

Jack laughed into Gabriel's chest, but it sounded like if I don't laugh, I'll cry laughter. "Where to start...I've never had a relationship with another griffin. They're awkward for lion-headed griffins to begin with, unless it's with another lion-headed griffin, but easier for females. The only lion-headed female I've ever met, though, is my cousin Louise. I had a girlfriend once about fifty or sixty years back, but it...uh...didn't work out and I figured out something my parents had figured out years before."

You're gay, Gabriel thought, the words sticking in his throat because he didn't want to assume but something in him really, really wanted it to be true.

"I'm not attracted to females," Jack sighed, like he was bracing himself for the moment Gabriel pushed him away.

Something squirmed in Gabriel's chest and he found himself saying quietly, "That makes two of us."

Jack froze. "Really?"

"Really."

The griffin struggled out of Gabriel's hug, only to hug the man's head to his chest in turn. It was a handful of minutes before Jack's breathing evened out. "Thank you," he murmured. "For not pulling away."

"You didn't become someone different," Gabriel murmured back. "You're still the same person. I'm not some asshole who's going to get all weird on you and assume you're after my ass."

"I thought it would be one of those 'effeminate' things you avoided, after that night in the woods," Jack said carefully.

Gabriel shook his head. "Nah. I told you, I'm twitchy about unexpectedly sharing my personal space. You look like a girl in a bit of a rough neighborhood but insist you're a boy, you're gonna find someone who wants to put you in your place, you know?"

Jack hugged him tighter.

"I've been hit on plenty, by men as well as women, and I take it for the compliment it is. Same as with a woman. Acting like you're gonna get cooties from a guy just because he's attracted to you isn't being manly, it's being an insecure little fuck. I'm very secure."

"Point taken," Jack said warmly. "Sadly, it's not as...progressive...with griffins. Males aren't allowed to be supportive rather than protective, remember?"

Shit. This was going to make Gabriel angry, he just knew it.

"Having a non-griffin mate is frowned on because the idea is that unless you're mated to something super powerful, like a dragon, your mate isn't going to be strong enough to either protect your pride or run your pride. So automatically they're almost reduced to property because if they can't fulfill the duties of their gender role, then they're just there for fun in the sack. They don't count."

The Reaper would count as super powerful, right? But then Jack would be the supportive mate, and male griffins weren't allowed to be supportive. Thankfully, the imaginary cat was more concerned with Jack being unhappy than with finding and killing whoever was making him unhappy.

"So we show up together, your parents are going to assume I'm the fucktoy you're using to get over your grief."

Jack sighed and laid his cheek against Gabriel's temple. "Yeah. And telling them that you're the Reaper is just going to cause a panic. The Reaper is the monster that most supernatural mothers tell their children about to scare them into good behavior."

Gabriel thought about it for a minute, some traitorous corner of his mind contemplating the possibility of needing to be kissed to maintain the fiction that they were fucking.

"Well...it's not like we aren't sharing a bed," he joked weakly.

That made Jack release him and lean back to run worried eyes over every inch of his face. "Gabe...you're willing to let my family assume that you're my lover and let them treat you like a moderately well-behaved pet?"

He arched one eyebrow at the griffin. "Do I look insecure in my masculinity? Just coach me in what to expect and how to act," he added as Jack laughed in relief. "It can't be much worse than some of the police events I've had to attend."

"I hope not," Jack said fervently. "Some of my cousins and their mates are decent, but my dad and his brothers..."

Gabriel rolled over, presenting the griffin with his back. "We'll worry about that later," he said firmly. "Right now, I just want to food coma before we hit the gym."

Jack moved closer to spoon him, as he hoped the griffin would. "That sounds like a great idea," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Gabriel. "Thanks."

The imaginary cat purred; Gabriel threaded the fingers of one hand through Jack's and squeezed lightly.