Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse

"Look at you," Felicity whispered, tracing one finger along the impossibly soft curve of her ear. "Look at you loving your breakfast."

Lottie’s only answer was to blink up at her with that same dazed, adoring stare, milk dribbling from the corner of her mouth, and Felicity felt something in her chest give way entirely, some last held-together piece of her unspooling at the sight of it. She didn’t try to stop it. She just let herself feel it, sitting there on the rug with her back aching and her daughter drinking from her like the whole world made sense as long as she stayed right there.

By the time Lottie finished, her eyes had gone heavy-lidded, her grip on Felicity’s shirt loosening finger by finger until she slid into sleep mid-swallow, milk-drunk and boneless. Felicity eased her upright, patted the small back until a satisfied burp rolled out of her, and pressed one last kiss to her fuzzy little head before laying her back down in the crib. Lottie didn’t stir. She just curled in on herself, one fist still twitching like she was dreaming about eating.

"Alright," Felicity murmured, glancing down the row. "Who’s next?"

The answer came in the form of an urgent little hiss from the crib beside her, and she turned to find Alfie already straining against the bars, his small scaled tail thumping in agitation, bright blue eyes fixed on her with unmistakable demand.

"Oh, I see you." She laughed, reaching in to scoop him up, careful of the way his tail liked to whip when he got excited.

"I see you; patience is not your strong suit, is it?"

He latched on almost before she’d settled him properly, a soft, contented purring-hiss vibrating out of him as he found his rhythm, and one small hand fisted immediately into the front of her shirt like he thought she might try to leave.

She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t have, not with the way he was looking at her, those blue eyes locked onto her face like she was the only thing that existed in the entire ruined world, and his other hand came up to pat clumsily at her collarbone, just to touch her, just to confirm she was real.

"Easy," she whispered, smoothing her thumb along the tiny scaled ridge of his spine. "I’m not going anywhere."

Behind her, she heard Ivan crouch down, the floorboards creaking under his weight, his voice low and careful. "Let me just..." His big hand reached for the loose coil of Alfie’s tail where it dangled off her arm, clearly meaning to support the weight of it, and Alfie responded by hissing, sharp and offended, and yanking his tail tight around Felicity’s wrist instead, out of Ivan’s reach entirely.

Ivan went still.

Felicity glanced over her shoulder, and the look on Ivan’s face nearly undid her, that flicker of hurt he tried so hard to smother, gone almost as fast as it appeared, replaced by something carefully blank.

"Guess he’s got it handled," he said, voice rough around the edges of a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sat back on his heels, golden gaze fixed on the baby wrapped so possessively around her wrist, and something in his jaw tightened. "He won’t even let me support his tail." A moment then a deep breath out, quieter. "He only wants to touch his mother."

"Ivan..."

"It’s fine." He said it too fast, the way he always did when it wasn’t. He reached out anyway, just to brush one thick finger against the top of Alfie’s head, gentle as anything, and Alfie only burrowed closer into Felicity’s chest, oblivious to the small devastation he’d caused.

Felicity wanted to say something to fix it, but her mouth was busy pressing a kiss to Alfie’s fuzzy little head, and by the time she looked up again, Ivan had already schooled his expression back into something steady, something safe, watching them both with a tenderness that ached to look at.

Alfie fed on, utterly unaware of any of it, little noises humming out of him between swallows, his grip on her shirt never loosening. When he finally finished, he let out a tiny, bubbling burp right against her collarbone, and his whole body went slack in an instant, eyes sliding shut, tail slowly unwinding from her wrist until it just hung there, twitching happily in his sleep.

"There he goes," Felicity whispered, laughing softly under her breath, and glanced up to find Ivan watching her with that same devastated softness, like he couldn’t decide whether to be wounded or wrecked with love, and had landed somewhere painfully in between.

She barely had time to settle before Voss lowered himself onto the edge of the rocking chair across the room, his big frame looking absurd against the delicate wood, like he might snap the arms clean off if he leaned wrong. His silver-haired eagle cub squirmed against his chest, tiny fists batting at his shirt, wings working overtime, and Felicity watched Voss wipe his palms down the front of his pants, once, twice, like his hands wouldn’t stay still no matter what he did with them.

"She’s been like this since you started with Lottie," Voss said, low, almost embarrassed by it. "Smelled you the second you sat down."

"Bring her here, then." She patted the space beside her on the rug, still warm from where Alfie had been. "No sense making her wait if he’s already worked up."

Voss crossed the room in three strides, careful in the way only someone that size had to be careful, and crouched down to settle the cub into her waiting arms. The second the transfer was complete, her wings, soft and silver and comically oversized for her back, pinned flat against her, and a full-body shudder ran through her like he’d been holding his breath for an hour and only now remembered how to breathe.

She latched fast, no hesitation, no fussing, just an immediate desperate pull that made Felicity huff out a laugh despite herself. Little back legs kicking uselessly at the air in pure, undiluted joy.

"Someone’s happy," she murmured, smoothing her hand down.

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