Chapter 28
28
S ettling into a new routine with Cass and Desi’s newfound ex-hunter is shockingly easy.
Part of it is because Cass and Desi already follow a human schedule, of course. Having that structure in place means that JJ blends into their lives easily, effortlessly, their mealtimes already consistent and their days naturally winding down around eight or nine p.m. But Cass also thinks that part of it is just JJ?—his openness to new experiences, his unfailing willingness to adapt, his quiet determination to make this work.
Desi is ecstatic to have her other dad back, obviously. Cass doesn’t let her knock on JJ’s door until seven in the morning, but once JJ realizes that, he makes it a point to wake up just before then, ready to accept Desi’s flying tackle-hug and carry her out to the couch so he can read her a book while Cass cooks breakfast.
And Desi has declared it her mission in life to make up for every second of lost time with JJ, between his brief but harrowing prison stay and every other field trip he was forced to cancel. They play dragons in the living room and tag in the backyard and hide and seek in the rest of the house, JJ clumsily crawling into closets and cupboards and shooting Cass a warning glare to keep him quiet.
Cass does him one better and covers him with a soundproofing spell, disguising his breathing and fidgeting from Desi’s demonically enhanced ears. Desi pouts at him every time he does it, but her obvious joy whenever she finally finds JJ is worth it.
Afternoons are usually spent watching movies and reading together. Cass and JJ have started talking about Desi’s education?—if they want her to grow up the human way, it only makes sense to teach her the human way, too?—and their current debate is about homeschooling versus public school. Both of them are admittedly leaning towards the former?—less risk to everyone involved?—but JJ insists that she needs to spend time with kids her own age, too.
So far, they’re thinking about signing her up for gymnastics, dance, or ice skating. Desi is equally enthusiastic about all three, which makes their job both easier and harder.
At the end of the night, Cass and JJ take turns tucking Desi in and reading her bedtime stories before turning out the lights. And, even though Desi’s energy is boundless at baseline, she usually still takes a nap in the middle of the morning and a nap right before dinner. Much as Cass loves Desi and loves watching her and JJ together even more, he’s overwhelmingly grateful for those precious few hours, because, well??—
“Hey, can you show me how to do that?” JJ asks, peering over Cass’s shoulder as he starts whisking the eggs together for their omelets.
Because those are the hours when he gets JJ all to himself.
“Sure,” Cass says, and he steps aside so JJ can join him at the counter. “I’ll teach you how to crack the eggs next time so you don’t get any shells in the bowl, but for the most part, preparing them is easy?—just whisk them together until the yolks and whites are blended. The difficult part is actually cooking them properly.”
JJ nods seriously. “Because you don’t want to undercook eggs, right? That’s how you get salmonella.”
“Well, that’s how you get salmonella,” Cass drawls, nudging his shoulder against JJ’s. “But don’t worry. Desi and I will take care of you if your fragile human body can’t handle a little bit of bacteria.”
JJ rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “All right. And then we just need to cut up the fillings, right? The veggies and the cheese?”
“I get the cheese pre-grated, because some things just aren’t worth the effort,” Cass says, pulling out a bag of shredded pepper jack?—JJ’s favorite, he’s learned. “And then for the veggies…” Cautiously, he holds up a chef’s knife. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
JJ’s smile wavers. “Not… not to cut vegetables, no.”
Deliberately, Cass lets the moment pass. JJ is still dealing with the fallout from his capture and imprisonment, of course, but Cass is gradually starting to realize that some of his wounds are even deeper and more insidious than that, traumas built up from years of struggling to be a cog in a machine that never wanted him there in the first place.
When JJ is ready to talk about it, he will. Cass can wait as long as he needs. “That’s fine. I’ll show you. For the scallions, you’ll want to use a seesawing motion, see?” He demonstrates slowly, chopping them halfway before extending the knife towards JJ, handle first. “Here. You try.”
Delicately, JJ takes the knife. Almost automatically, he shifts it in his hand like he’s about to use it as a weapon, and he visibly pauses before trying to copy Cass’s grip, pinching the blade between his thumb and index finger and wrapping his other fingers around the handle. “Like this?”
“Just like that,” Cass says softly, and he nods in approval as JJ carefully starts chopping. “Perfect. We’ll make a chef out of you yet, Jackson.”
JJ’s lips curve into a smile, but his focus remains on the knife as he cuts the rest of the scallions into neat pieces. “All right. What’s next?”
It’s the same easy rhythm they’ve fallen into over the past week and a half. Much as Cass would like to just spoil his co-parent and their semi-adopted daughter, he knew from the start that JJ isn’t one to sit idle. He likes helping around the house, likes keeping himself busy, likes contributing as much as he can.
So Cass tactically starts doing chores during Desi’s naps. Normally, he has spell automations set up to keep everything clean and tidy, but he quietly deactivates them, washing dishes and sorting laundry side by side with JJ. A few of the chores spark memories and conversations?—apparently, ten-year-old JJ’s designated job was unloading the dishwasher, and his mother listened to audiobooks while she folded clothes?—but for the most part, JJ just seems happy to help.
Happy to spend time with Cass, too, he thinks.
But JJ is frustratingly opaque at the best of times. Cass has the sinking suspicion that he was never really allowed to express his thoughts and opinions back in the Sanctum, so he just learned to stay quiet. Honestly, it kind of breaks Cass’s heart.
It also makes knowing what JJ wants?—much less what he needs?— a lot more difficult. That sleep-deprived “you” when Cass asked JJ what he wanted a week and a half ago has unfortunately not been repeated, and Cass??—
Cass doesn’t want to push JJ. Not when he’s already been through so much, not when Cass and Desi are essentially his only lifelines right now.
Not when JJ is living in Cass’s house and eating Cass’s food and relying on Cass for basic survival. Cass would never want JJ to feel coerced into returning his feelings because of fear that he would be kicked out?—and never allowed to see Desi again?—if he didn’t.
But Cass has a plan for how to handle that. He’s already perfected a second identity for Desi, and he’s almost done putting the finishing touches on JJ’s. Once the paperwork is filed, he’ll just has to set up the most important part?—the bank account in JJ’s new name?—and it’ll be ready for…
For whatever JJ wants to do with it, really.
But that’s a worry for another time. “All right,” Cass says, critically surveying the spread of chopped veggies in front of them. “Fillings are done. Ready to learn how to make an omelet?”
JJ gives him a small smile. “Ready,” he says, and Cass smiles back as he guides JJ through the rest of their cooking lesson.
JJ hefts the weight of his escrima sticks in his hands, checking the grip. “So you’re sure the corrosion spell is gone?”
Ez’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Are you doubting my skills, Jackson?”
“Not at all,” JJ says hastily, tempted to hug the escrima protectively to his chest. “I just want to, you know, make sure I’m not misunderstanding anything. I wouldn’t want Desi or Cass to get burned, after all.”
Ez looks suspicious of this reply. JJ resists the urge to fidget. Even though he firmly believes Obie is the most dangerous of Cass’s little trio?—after all, Obie refuses to even say when he was summoned, so he’s definitely at least five thousand years old?—Ez is the one who frightens JJ the most.
Plus, Obie just seems so unaccountably normal. He has strong opinions on the merits of Samosa Spot versus Sambusa Stop, competes in a weekly bowling league every Wednesday, and is the landlord for several apartment buildings around Redwater. Ez, on the other hand, is intensity incarnate.
And it’s not even because of her impressive spellcasting skills, either. Her baseline personality is just intimidating. Like, Cass’s weapons skills are just as impressive as Ez’s magic skills, but JJ doesn’t feel nearly as close to death around Cass as he does around Ez.
Although that might tie into JJ’s current preoccupation with Cassius Chin in general. He shoves the thought determinedly from his mind. “In any case,” he says, “thank you for this. Sincerely. Even though I’m not planning on fighting anymore, I’ve always loved the routine and control of escrima drills. Making these sticks safer for Desi and Cass is really helpful.”
“Hm.” After a moment of consideration, Ez nods once. “You’re welcome. Don’t expect too many more favors like this, lackey.”
Cass scoffs. “Oh, please. You’re a huge showoff, Ez. You’ll do extravagant displays of magic for anyone who can’t run faster than you.”
“Shut up, Chin,” Ez says, and she checks her cell phone. “All right. I’m headed out to grab bibimbap with Obie. You three need anything else?”
“I think we’re all good,” Cass says. “Thanks again, Ez. We really appreciate it.”
“Thanks, Auntie Ez!” Desi chirps from the couch.
“You’re welcome, sweetie. Later, guys,” Ez says, and with a final wave, she snaps open a rift to Lakeside, steps through it, and vanishes from sight.
Cass nods at the escrima in JJ’s hands. “Well, Jackson, I think I remember something about you owing me a lesson.”
JJ rolls his eyes. “Please. Like you don’t already know Filipino martial arts twice as well as I do.”
“I might be rusty,” Cass says defensively, and he tugs one of the sticks out of JJ’s hands. JJ holds his breath until Cass settles on a comfortable grip, revealing that the corrosion spell is definitely gone. “C’mon, JJ. Show me what you got.”
Desi claps her hands. “I want to see, too!”
Cass’s smile falters. JJ fights back a wince. The two of them have had long conversations about whether they’re going to teach Desi about weapons and fighting and warfare, subjects most demons are forced to learn when they’re first summoned. They’ve settled on basic escrima drills for now?—if the sticks are going to be in the house, she should know how to use them safely?—and general self-defense techniques when she gets older. Nothing too difficult, nothing too dangerous.
Nothing that would expose her to the dark side of humanity too soon.
JJ knows that Cass wants to give her the chance to be a little girl for as long as possible. “You can always watch us practice, Desi,” he says, “but remember, these sticks can be dangerous, okay? You can’t touch them unless one of us is with you, and even then, you have to be really careful with them.”
Desi nods seriously. “Okay!”
Cass flashes JJ a relieved smile as he leads the way to their punching bag. “All right,” he says, and he pokes the bag with the end of his stick. “Like this, right? We’re poking people to death?”
“You’re gonna give me an aneurysm, Chin.”
“Then show me, Julian.” Cass gives JJ a crooked grin, and JJ fights back a shiver at the sound of his full name in Cass’s voice. “I want to see what you can do.”
JJ dutifully steps forward, focusing on the bag. He’s always liked the challenge and focus of double-stick sinawali?—the weaving patterns that serve as drills and exercises?—but single-stick movements are always threaded with nostalgia for his earliest days of training, Chester by his side while Sawyer watched their technique with a critical eye. He starts with his most basic pattern, tracing an “X” in the air in front of him, the familiar sensation of his stick hitting the bag sending a satisfying jolt up his arm??—
Within a minute, he’s relaxing into the rhythm of the strikes, time blurring and stretching around him. He flows into different drills as he hits the bag from every angle, gradually making his movements faster and more complex, staying light on his feet and loose in his arms??—
Suddenly, he remembers that Cass is watching him. He nearly trips over his own feet as he stumbles to a halt, hastily tucking the stick under his opposite arm and resting his left hand on his right wrist. “So that’s, uh. That’s what I can do.”
Cass’s smile is soft. “Well done.”
Heat flames into JJ’s face. “Thank you,” he says awkwardly, and he clears his throat, stepping to one side. “Now you. Since you prefer a left-handed stance, you’ll want the escrima in your left hand and your left foot forward. Your right arm stays close to your chest to defend your face and throat.”
Obediently, Cass steps into position. JJ isn’t at all surprised that Cass immediately shifts into the correct stance, either remembering from prior training or just learning quickly, but he is a little disappointed. Even though he knows Cass has been around for centuries and has had thousands of opportunities to learn different fighting styles, well??—
Part of JJ really hoped he could be the one to teach Cass something new. He forces the sensation down. “Good. Now, you’re going to make an ‘X’ pattern with your stick?—strike from your left ear to your right hip, bring the stick back up along your right arm, strike from your right ear to your left hip, and bring the stick back up along your left arm. That’ll take you back to your starting position, so you can keep repeating the drill?—almost like you’re weaving a pattern in midair.” He demonstrates the moves slowly, conscious of Cass’s considering eyes on him. “Try it out.”
As usual, Cass’s technique is flawless. His arm stays relaxed and his wrist stays loose as he copies JJ’s motions perfectly, working around the bag in a sleek, efficient rhythm. JJ finds himself holding his breath as he watches the effortless way Cass moves, how his attention never wavers, how he takes this simple drill so seriously??—
Taking it seriously because JJ taught it to him, maybe.
After a handful of repetitions, Cass pauses. “That really is relaxing,” he says thoughtfully, sliding the stick under his opposite arm and mimicking JJ’s resting stance. “I can see why you like it so much.” He meets JJ’s eyes, a smile curving on his lips. “I think I like it, too.”
JJ’s stomach flip-flops. He tries his hardest to ignore it. “I’m glad,” he says hoarsely, and he passes Cass his own escrima. “What other moves do you know? This definitely isn’t your first time using these.”
Cass’s eyes gleam. Immediately, he starts combining the sticks in a smooth, ceaseless rhythm, seamlessly flowing through different sinawali and patterns, every motion tight and precise as he works his way around the bag??—
JJ didn’t think there was anything Cass could possibly do to make himself more attractive, but apparently, an easy competency with JJ’s favorite weapon is his weakness. He swallows hard past the dryness in his throat, trying to keep his tone light. “So much for me teaching you. I’m pretty sure you should be teaching me, Cass.”
“Maybe. I am a full two hundred years older than you, after all,” Cass says, and unexpectedly, he holds out one of the sticks. “But I’ve actually never sparred with these before. Do you?—do you want to?”
JJ’s heart stutters. Cass’s hand is as steady as ever, but there’s a thread of uncertainty in his voice. Like having a sparring partner is important to him, like he’s inviting JJ into something special.
Like he really sees JJ as an equal. Slowly, JJ takes the escrima. “I’d love to,” he says softly, and he takes a quick step away, dropping into his left-handed fight stance. “Drill first? Then freestyle?”
Cass grins. “Sounds great,” he says, and carefully, he sweeps his stick from his shoulder towards JJ’s temple.
JJ mirrors the motion, and their sticks meet with a satisfying crack! that vibrates into JJ’s hand and sets all his nerves alight. “Good,” he murmurs, and he aims a backhand strike towards Cass’s knees that Cass blocks effortlessly. “Same sequence, reverse direction?”
“Sure,” Cass says, and his slice towards JJ’s temple is the slightest bit faster this time. Deliberately, they trade strikes back and forth, tracing a loose circle around the room as they familiarize themselves with the pattern, with each other??—
“Freestyle?” JJ asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Cass says, and this time, his strike comes from another direction.
JJ blocks it in midair and sweeps his own counterattack towards Cass’s shoulder. Cass’s stick snaps up to meet it in a flash, and within seconds, they’re caught up in the rhythm of their sparring match, watching each other’s centerlines as they attack and defend, gradually speeding up their pace??—
Not enough to be dangerous. Not enough that JJ’s human reflexes can’t keep up.
Just enough to be a challenge, to be fun. He doesn’t think he’s really sparred with anyone like this since he was a teenager, back when Sawyer was still around and Chester was still keeping up with his skills, all of them drilling and training to see who could reign victorious in a fair fight.
And JJ is under no illusions. A human versus a demon isn’t a fair fight. But Cass is matching JJ’s speed and strength perfectly, not letting him win but not cutting the match short, either. A smile creeps onto JJ’s face as they battle across the living room, bursting and stepping and circling in time with their strikes as the rattan wood starts to warm beneath JJ’s palm.
Cass catches the grin. “What?” he asks, aiming a swipe at JJ’s ribs.
JJ blocks it and sweeps his counterattack towards Cass’s knee. “Nothing. This is?—this is just fun.”
Time unwinds around them as they dance across the room and back, the crack! of their sticks meeting in midair the only marker of seconds ticking by. Perfect strikes and little mistakes blend together into a fluid dance, every step matched by the vibrations rattling up JJ’s arm and the steadily increasing heat underneath his fingers??—
When Cass blocks JJ’s next strike, JJ catches the familiar scent of burning wood in the air. It’s so reminiscent of his teenage years that he can’t hide a smile, thinking about lessons with Sawyer, drills with Chester??—
And now, playful sparring matches with Cassius Chin.
Desi gasps, delighted. “Campfire!”
Cass laughs, pressing in a little harder and forcing JJ back. “Campfire,” he agrees.
JJ’s heartrate is high and his lungs feel breathless, but he’s not sure if it’s the intensity of the workout or just the rich sound of Cass’s laugh. Maybe both. “Oh, so now it’s a fight?” he asks, making his next strike a bit faster.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, lackey,” Cass says, blocking it effortlessly.
The escrima is uncomfortably hot in JJ’s hand now. Cass seems to notice, because he adds the slightest burst of strength and speed, his stick moving in a blur as he herds JJ back towards the couch??—
And then, without warning, Cass aims the tip of his stick at JJ’s chest, pausing a hair’s breadth before his sternum. “Boop,” he says, and he pokes lightly, pushing JJ down onto the cushion.
Desi laughs, crawling over to throw her arms around JJ. “Super fun! I want to learn, too!”
JJ pulls her into a one-armed hug, grinning up at Cass while he catches his breath. “Sure, sweetie. Cass and I can teach you.”
Cass smiles back. There’s something different about the smile, something bright and fond and happy, and JJ’s heart melts a little at the sight. “Another day, though,” Cass says, and unexpectedly, he reaches out to card his fingers through JJ’s locs. “We don’t want to wear out poor JJ too much.”
JJ’s breath catches. For a split second, Cass’s fingers are sifting through JJ’s hair, tracing along his scalp, lighting his nerves on fire??—
Abruptly, Cass pulls away, tugging JJ’s escrima stick out of his hands. “I’ll put these on the top shelf and get started on dinner,” he says, and he strides away without another word, leaving JJ with a racing heart and an unfamiliar buzzing in his veins.