Chapter Text
When Martín opens the door and sees a raven outside his apartment he briefly considers the fact that he may be hallucinating – although inserting himself into an Edgar Allen Poe poem seems a little out of character for him. Then he looks past the raven and sees Sergio.
“Ugh,” he groans. “What do you want?”
He leaves the door open and staggers back into his living room. Luca only just manages to dart out of his way as Martín collapses on the sofa. Luca crawls up onto the backrest, only to slide down again and curl up on Martín’s chest as soon has he’s horizontal.
Sergio carefully walks in, Quinn now perched on his shoulder, her dark wings tucked tightly against her body. “How are you Martín?” he asks as he carefully takes a seat.
Martín shrugs, fingers curling in Luca’s orange fur. “Fine.”
“No you aren’t,” Luca says quietly and Martín shushes him.
Sergio hesitates before speaking again. “I’m sorry to have come all the way here to bother you, but I need your help.”
“I thought we were too unstable to be of any help?” Martín spits, still concentrating on Luca’s comforting warmth.
“I’m sorry about that, but you know I was right. The mint heist wasn’t right for you, you didn’t want to do it anyway!” Sergio insists, his eyes wide behind his glasses. If Martín weren’t quite so drunk, he might try and punch him.
He sits up and Luca digs his claws into his shirt so he’s hanging off Martín’s chest, lower body resting on his lap. “You weren’t right. You just knew Andrés would never do your soulless heist if there was still a chance at melting gold with me!”
Quinn ruffles her feather’s warningly and Luca climbs up Martín to drape himself around his shoulders. Sergio raises a hand placatingly. “Yes, you’re right, that was part of it. I needed Andrés there with me. And now, I – we – need your help. One of our gang was taken by the authorities. They haven’t reported it, which means…”
“It means they’re probably torturing him,” Martín finishes and Sergio nods, stroking Quinn’s feathers in a rare attempt at self-comfort. Martín looks at Luca, who bares his sharp teeth. “What do you need us for?”
Sergio’s face brightens a little. “We have a way to get him out. We’re going to break into the Bank of Spain – and we can’t do it without you.”
“Is Andrés going to be there?” Luca asks in Martín’s ear, whiskers tickling his neck. Martín relays the question, trying not to show that he cares what the answer is.
“Well, yes,” Sergio says nervously. “The whole gang is. Some old friends of yours too.”
Martín clenches his jaw as Luca rubs his furry face against his neck. “Fine, I’ll do it. But this is my plan, I don’t want one of your little robbers telling me what to do.”
“Agreed,” Sergio says. “Can you come with me right away?”
“Sure,” Martín says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Let me shower and grab some stuff.”
Forty-five minutes later, he and Luca are in Sergio’s car and on their way to the monastery. Quinn is perched on the back of Sergio’s seat, occasionally rubbing her beak through his dark hair as if searching for insects. It makes Martín itch and he focusses on Luca who is draped across his lap, which he’s really too big to fit on comfortably. He rubs between his ears and Luca starts purring very quietly.
It’s not awkward exactly, sitting in the car with Sergio. They were friends once after all. Martín remembers long nights sitting with him, the two of them discussing equations and theories until they were too drunk to make any sense. Sergio was funny when he was drunk and it affected Quinn in a way that Martín’s drinking had never done to Luca. She would hop all over the nearest flat surface, pecking for invisible bugs which made Martín howl with laughter.
It takes them the whole evening, night, and the better part of the morning to drive to the monastery. By the halfway point, Martín has sobered up enough to take over some of the driving. When they finally arrive, it’s nine in the morning and Martín is dead on his feet.
“Welcome back,” Sergio says with a nervous smile and Martín scowls at him.
He grabs his bag and follows Luca into the main building. Sergio hurries after them, but Quinn swoops ahead.
Martín ducks when a hawk zooms over their heads, turning and joining Quinn in the air, the two of them immediately starting to chatter.
“He belong to your girl?” Martín asks Sergio, jerking his head at the newcomer.
Sergio nods. “Raquel’s yes. Uh, Lisbon is her name now. That’s Deunoro, Quinn says he told her that everyone’s in the kitchen.”
From Martín’s recollection, the kitchen is just behind the slightly ajar door ahead of them. He drops his bag beside the door and opens his arms. Luca immediately stops watching Quinn and Deunoro, who are perched on top of the door, and gracefully leaps into Martín’s arms, pressing his head under his chin.
Martín clutches his daemon to his chest, unwilling to show his nerves.
“It’ll be okay,” Luca whispers to him. “Andrés means nothing to us now.”
Martín nods and allows Sergio to lead them into the kitchen.
The room seems to overflow with people and daemons, all gathered around the table where Martín had once spent days upon days with Andrés and Sergio.
“Everyone, this is Palermo,” Sergio introduces. “Palermo, you already know Berlin, Bogota, and Marseille.”
Martín nods, smiling at Bogota and Marseille, truly glad to see them again after all these years. He doesn’t bother looking at Andrés – Berlin as he’s now to call him.
Sergio starts pointing out the others. “This is Lisbon, my partner. That’s Denver and Stockholm, and their son Cincinnati. And this is Nairobi, Helsinki, and Tokyo.”
The others all give variations of greetings, not all their daemons immediately visible.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Martín says as Luca turns in his arms, long neck stretched out to be able to survey the room better.
“Um no offense, but what is type of animal is your daemon? Is she some kind of giant weasel?” the man with short curly hair asks – Denver, Martín thinks he’s called. His daemon is a grey parrot and it cackles making Luca turn his head, lips pulled back to expose his teeth.
“His name is Luca and he is a jaguarundi. They’re a cat native to South America,” a voice from the other end of the end of the kitchen says and everyone turns to look at Andrés. He’s reclining casually in his chair, Aethra, his arctic fox daemon, at his feet.
“Your daemon is male?” the woman with short cropped hair – Tokyo, Luca supplies – asks.
Martín scowls at her. “Is that a problem?” He’s used to having people being confused by Luca. For one, even in Argentina they got weird looks when Luca finally settled in such a rare form, and the fact that Martín had a same-gender demon had always meant trouble for them from a young age.
Tokyo raises her hands, shaking her head. “No problem, Helsinki’s is too.” She jerks her head at the big man in the corner, who is serenely feeding bacon to what Martín is fairly sure is a jackal.
“Do you guys want some breakfast?” Lisbon asks. “There’s still some toast left.”
Sergio gives Martín a look that tells him he isn’t allowed to say no and to be fair, he is pretty hungry as well. Two more chairs are produced and after some general shuffling, Martín and Luca find themselves wedged between Helsinki and Bogota. Luca immediately starts talking to Pamela, Bogota’s otter daemon, although it doesn’t escape Martín’s notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at Helsinki’s jackal.
Across the table, Andrés is drinking coffee, entertaining polite conversation with Lisbon. Martín’s stomach twists. He doesn’t know what he expected and just straight up ignoring him except for outing him to everyone was pretty in character for Andrés. But Martín was the one who was hurt, by rights, he should be ignoring Andrés.
Luca has seemingly grown bored of talking to Pamela, whom he had always considered rather crude and was now nearing Helsinki’s jackal. Martín strokes a hand over his long body and Luca jumps off his lap, standing on his hind legs in front of the jackal.
Martín glances at Helsinki who is smiling at their daemons’ interactions. “Dušan likes him,” he says, when he notices Martín watching.
“At least Luca is good at making friends,” Martín says, half-jokingly.
“Oh, I’m sure you are too,” Helsinki says and Martín raises his eyebrows.
If this were a bar, he would assume Helsinki were flirting, but the other man just looks sincere. Luca, bold as brass, climbs right onto Dušan’s back. Martín blushes.
“Sorry, he can be a bit overeager sometimes,” he says and Helsinki laughs.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops when they both become aware of a rumbling sound coming from under the table.
Andrés’ daemon Aethra is stalking towards Dušan and Luca, her snout wrinkled as she growls at them. Across from them, Andrés is still talking to Lisbon as if entirely unaware of what his daemon is doing.
Dušan starts to shuffle away, Luca still on his back, despite Aethra’s inferior size. Luca jumps onto the floor, effectively putting himself in front of Aethra who is still growling.
He ignores the noise she is making and walks right over to her, rubbing his head under her chin. Martín winces. The night Andrés… asked him to leave, Luca bit Aethra hard enough to make her squeal, no doubt she hasn’t forgotten.
However, she stops growling and licks the top of Luca’s head, flattening his ears with her tongue. Luca is actually taller when they’re both standing, but soon they’re both pressed to the ground and Aethra is letting Luca groom her, nuzzling his fur every now and then.
“They’ve known each other a long time,” Martín mumbles into his toast and Helsinki just nods.
After breakfast – during which Andrés doesn’t once look at Martín – Martín drags Luca away from Aethra and excuses himself to put away his things.
Luca prowls along the hall in front of him, automatically heading to their old room.
“It’s weird to be back, isn’t it?” he asks and Martín nods as they enter their room.
When they left, they’d also left a lot of their things, most of which still seem to be here. Martín ignores the sketch of Luca in the corner, that Andrés had gifted him one summer, instead unpacking his bag.
Luca stalks around the room, investigating every nook and cranny.
When Martín has put away most of his things, he flops onto the bed. Luca quickly joins him, stretching his long body along Martín’s chest, resting his head on Martín’s throat.
“Are you okay?” Luca asks, whiskers brushing against Martín’s skin.
Martín sighs, stroking Luca’s back. “I don’t know. I don’t like being here like this, I don’t like Andrés ignoring me when he’s the one who hurt me.”
Luca huffs in an imitation of a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, angel,” Martín reassures him. “But you can’t play with Aethra like that.”
“Why not?” Luca demands, claws tightening in the fabric of Martín’s shirt. “She wants to be friends. She didn’t want us to go away in the first place.”
Martín stops his stroking. “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t think it mattered. Daemon’s aren’t their humans.”
“That’s true. Andrés certainly wanted us gone. Or me anyway, I don’t think he particularly disliked you.”
He tries to ignore how Luca preens at that. “He never touched Eder, or let Tatiana touch Aethra.”
“Well, Eder was a butterfly,” Martín reasons. “He must have been hard to touch. And how could you possibly know if Tatiana touched Aethra?”
“Because Aethra told me she wouldn’t let her. But she didn’t mind you touching her a couple times. And I liked it when Andrés touched me,” Luca insists.
Martín shivers, remembering how soft Aethra’s fur had felt on those rare occasions, how warmth flooded him when Andrés picked Luca up for the first time. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. Andrés has made it perfectly clear how he feels.”
“He said you were soulmates,” Luca reminds him, as if those words hadn’t haunted Martín for five years.
Martín wipes the tears that were stubbornly escaping his closed eyes and making their way down his face. “Yes, and even that wasn’t enough for him to want me,” he says and Luca makes a mournful sound, rubbing his face against Martín’s. “I just wasn’t good enough.”
Martín presses the heels of his hands against his eyes in an effort to stop crying, while Luca’s rough tongue scrapes across his skin.
“It’s his loss,” Luca tells him and Martín lets out a hiccupping sob.
“Clearly not,” he sniffs. “He’s fine and look at me, crying over something that happened years ago.” Luca doesn’t say anything, continuing to groom Martín in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m going to try and avoid him so please… just do your best to stay away from Aethra?”
Luca sighs. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll try for you.”
5 Years Earlier
“How do I look?” Andrés asks, straightening his suit and Martín turns to look at him.
On the bed behind Andrés, Luca and Aethra are curled around each other like a ginger and white spiral.
Martín leans back in his chair. “Powerful,” he tells Andrés. “Beautiful,” he confesses.
Andrés smiles, running a hand over both Luca and Aethra before stepping towards Martín. The gesture makes Martín shiver, warmth trickling down his spine as Andrés’ fingers brush over Luca’s fur.
“Martín,” Andrés says as Martín returns to his work. “For years you’ve been going around in circles feeling this way.”
Martín’s chest tightens, his heart pounding as Andrés moves towards him. He tries to act nonchalant, keeping his body language open, whilst desperately wishing he could hold Luca.
“I think it’s time you moved on,” Andrés says and Martín tries not to panic.
“We can move on to wine, if you like,” he quips, grabbing the bottle from beside his desk.
Andrés shuts him down immediately. “I’m not drinking that with you. I’m going to dinner. With Tatiana.” Martín swallows his disappointment as Andrés continues. “You’ll think about me, but I won’t think about you.”
Martín puts his pen down, trying to ignore how his hands are shaking. Across the room, Luca raises his head, body still entwined with Aethra’s. “You don’t have to spell it out for me,” Martín says. “It’s clear.”
Aethra lets out a little whine and Luca nuzzles her as Andrés rolls his eyes. “Oh please, you think I don’t love you? I also feel that what we have between us is extraordinary, unique, wonderful. I know about love, I’ve been married five times.”
“Okay,” Martín says, his head spinning.
“What I’ve never told you,” Andrés says seriously. “Is that I’ve never felt anything with those women remotely similar to what I have with you.”
Martín’s on his feet before he knows it, unable to believe what he’s hearing.
“Not even close,” Andrés continues with a little smile. “You and I are soulmates,” he says and Martín thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest. “But only ninety-nine percent. As you know, I really like women. And you like me too much.”
Luca hisses, ignoring how Aethra licks the fur on his neck, but Martín can’t look away from Andrés.
“And what’s one percent against ninety-nine?” Martín asks, summoning his courage as he steps towards Andrés. “Unless you’re not brave enough to try it.”
Andrés actually has the audacity to smile as if Martín had just cracked a joke. “That one percent is a tiny mitochondrion, but it defines my desire.”
Martín spares a glance at Aethra who is nuzzling Luca and it gives him the hope he needs. “Mitochondria,” he repeats, closing the gap between himself and Andrés. “Where is your desire? Is it here?”
He runs his fingers across Andrés’ face just like he’d always wanted to, enjoying the way Andrés whispers his name.
“Don’t worry, relax,” Martín says, but he doesn’t know if he’s saying it to Andrés or himself. “Don’t be afraid.”
He needs to go up on the balls of his feet to bring his face up to Andrés’ height, but he uses the hand he has on Andrés’ neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s raw, all-consuming and Martín nearly cries when Andrés kisses back.
“You’re a coward, huh?” he asks, leaning in for another kiss, and then another, but his courage leaves him when Andrés doesn’t respond.
His hands slip from Andrés’ body and he prepares for a rejection, except then Andrés is walking him backwards. Martín’s shoulders hit the wall and Andrés is on him, devouring him, his hands framing Martín’s face.
Martín wraps his arms around Andrés, desperate to hold on to him, needing to feel him in his arms, to know that this is real.
But then Andrés is pulling away, his hands still gentle on Martín’s face and Martín knows what’s about to happen, knows if Andrés leaves now, he’s never coming back.
“I’d give anything to feel that,” Andrés whispers and Martín tries to kiss him again but it’s not the same. “It’s impossible,” Andrés tells him and Martín didn’t realise that heartbreak was a physical thing until he feels his heart split in two in his chest.
Luca howls and Martín wants to run, wants to clutch Andrés to his chest and cover his mouth, wants to stop whatever is about to happen.
“I love you, Martín,” Andrés tells him and it’s the cruellest possible thing he could have said. “But my brother is right, we have to part ways. And we have to scrap the plan.”
Martín nods, his body flooding with anger towards Sergio. “Your son of a bitch brother, told you I was in love with you to break up this house,” he accuses. “You’re going to make photocopies in the Royal Mint, right? I suggested melting gold together!” Martín looks over at Luca who is curled up in a ball, ignoring Aethra nudging him. “I let you touch Luca!”
“And I let you touch Aethra. But you’re hooked on something that will never exist!” Andrés says, not even turning to look at him. “I have to leave you. It’s for love, for brotherhood. For the commitment I have to you. Leave and heal the wound. Sometimes distance is the only way to find peace.”
Martín lets out a sob and Andrés just keeps talking. “I’m sure that one way or another, time will bring us back together.”
He turns to go and Martín watches as Andrés stops halfway down the hall.
“Aethra,” Andrés calls and Martín turns to see that Andrés’ daemon is still nudging Luca. “Aethra come!”
Aethra ignores him and Martín almost hopes it means that Andrés will stay. But then Luca suddenly turns and bites Aethra on the leg, hard enough to make her squeal. She jumps off the bed, limping towards Andrés who has gone white as a sheet. When she reaches Andrés, he crouches and picks her up, her white fur a stark contrast to his black overcoat and the two of them leave without another word.
Martín sinks to the ground and immediately Luca is there, climbing up Martín, his face nuzzling every bit of skin he can reach.
“He’s gone,” Martín whimpers. “It’s over. Ten years of friendship and it’s over.”
Luca whines. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay. I’m here, we still have each other.”
“What does it matter? We have to go and we’re never going to see Andrés again.”
“Don’t say that,” Luca scolds, his tone still gentle as he paws at Martín. “He’s not the centre of the universe.”
Martín sobs, his tears dampening Luca’s fur. “I don’t understand. If he loves me, why is he leaving?”
“I don’t know, querido,” Luca says honestly.
“What do we do now?” Martín asks as Luca tries in vain to clean up his tears. “What do we do without him, without Aethra?”
Luca mewls at the mention of Aethra and Martín presses him to his chest. “We leave,” Luca says, his whiskers moving against Martín’s damp neck. “We pack our things and put as many miles between us and Andrés de Fonollosa as we can and we learn to live without him, without them.”
“I don’t think I can,” Martín admits and Luca presses his forehead to Martín’s jaw.
“Of course you can. We can do anything together, you and I.”
