Chapter Text
Grian had barely unlocked the door before the first impatient meow greeted him from inside.
He smiled as he stepped into the dark café, the familiar scent of coffee beans and disinfectant lingering in the air.
Several heads lifted the moment he entered.
He flipped a switch, and the sign above the counter flickered to life. Paws and Pour.
That was apparently enough of a signal. Cats climbed down from window perches and cushions, padding toward him with increasingly insistent meows.
“Alright, alright,” Grian said, already smiling. “I’m here. Hold your horses.”
He set his bag aside and moved behind the counter for the bowls. The cats followed close behind, weaving impatiently around his ankles.
“Breakfast is coming,” he promised. “You’re all being very dramatic.”
They disagreed loudly.
Grian worked his way down the line, setting bowls out one by one until the chorus of meows faded into contented crunching.
Once everyone was fed and thoroughly distracted, he straightened with a quiet breath and rinsed his hands in the sink, warm water washing away the lingering smell of cat food.
Then he pulled out his apron and slipped it over his head. The red fabric was soft from too many washes, with a black paw print and steaming mug stitched across the front.
He tied it behind his back, then reached for one of the headbands hanging beside the aprons. The felt cat ears earned a small smile. He would never admit it, but he really didn’t mind this part of the uniform.
He had just finished adjusting them when the front door burst open, the bell clanging wildly against the frame.
A dark figure stepped inside, dressed almost entirely in black. A long cloak hung from his shoulders, and yellow details stood out against the fabric beneath it. A black mask covered the top half of his face, while a sword rested at his hip.
Grian froze.
“A vet,” the villain breathed into the silence. “I need a vet. Now.”
A chill ran down Grian’s spine.
Phantom.
The most dangerous villain in the city was standing in his doorway.
It took a moment for the words to register through the pounding of his pulse. Then Grian looked down.
A cat lay cradled in Phantom’s arms, her small body limp against his chest. One arm supported her weight while the other curved carefully around her injured side.
Grian let out a shaky breath as some of the tightness in his chest eased.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “This is a cat café, not a clinic.”
The villain hesitated.
For a moment, he just stood there. Then his shoulders slumped.
“Oh,” he whispered. “I thought… I saw the signs. The cats.”
Grian swallowed.
“The regular vets won’t open for another hour,” he said. “The nearest emergency clinic is across the river.”
Phantom went still.
“That’s… unfortunate,” he said quietly.
He looked down at the cat again, gently brushing a hand over her fur. “Come on, Jellie.”
Phantom turned toward the door, his cloak shifting softly around his legs.
Grian watched the careful way he held the cat, one arm supporting her while the other stayed curled protectively around her side. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
He hesitated.
Every sensible thought he had screamed at him to stay quiet. To let Phantom leave. To stay out of it.
Grian’s fingers curled briefly at his sides.
“Wait,” he said.
Phantom paused, half-turned, his posture tense.
Grian stood there for another moment, wrestling with the decision.
“I can help,” he blurted out. “Come with me.”
Phantom stared at him.
“You’re a vet?”
“No,” Grian said. “But I can help.”
“You know who I am,” Phantom said quietly, the words sounding almost like a warning.
“Yes.”
“And you still want to help?”
Grian looked at the cat, then back at him.
“I can’t let her die,” he said simply.
Something unreadable passed through Phantom’s eyes behind the mask.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Lead the way,” he said.
Grian turned toward the back room, and the villain followed.
The back was small and quiet, meant for storage and food prep rather than emergencies.
“What happened?” Grian asked.
“I’m not sure,” Phantom said, his voice rough. “She was found by the side of the road. She must have gotten out somehow.”
Grian pushed aside how strange it was to hear one of the city’s most dangerous villains sound so genuinely worried and focused instead on the small grey-and-white cat in his arms.
Phantom glanced around the room, as if expecting Grian to reach for a med kit or open a cabinet. When Grian placed his hands gently over the cat’s injured side instead, he stiffened.
“What are you—”
Light bloomed beneath Grian’s palms.
Warm gold filled the small room, threading softly through torn muscle and broken bone. Grian kept his attention on the injury, careful to keep the healing controlled.
He could feel Phantom staring at him, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the glow faded.
The cat blinked up at Phantom, bright-eyed and unmistakably alive. She shifted in his arms and let out a small, indignant meow.
“Jellie,” he breathed. “Thank goodness.”
A shaky laugh escaped him as he pulled her carefully against his chest.
Grian stepped back, relief loosening some of the tension in his shoulders. He made his way toward the front of the café, taking a moment to calm his still-racing heart. Phantom followed close behind, still focused entirely on the cat in his arms.
“She’ll need soft food,” Grian said, crouching to grab a packet of wet food from beneath the counter. “And plenty of water. Healing usually leaves you pretty hungry.”
He straightened and held it out, suddenly unsure what else he was supposed to do.
It took Phantom a second to notice. When he did, his gaze lifted from Jellie to Grian.
He accepted it almost absently and tucked the packet into his coat pocket.
Silence settled between them.
Grian shifted on his feet, increasingly uncomfortable under the weight of the villain’s stare.
The question hanging between them was obvious.
Why was a healer working in a cat café?
Healers were always accounted for, watched closely and put to use. Someone like him wasn’t supposed to have an ordinary job and a quiet life.
When Phantom spoke again, his voice was steadier than before.
“I’m in your debt.”
Grian blinked.
“No, you don’t need to—”
“I do.”
The certainty in his voice made Grian pause.
“I know what you risked by helping me,” Phantom said quietly. “You could have let me walk out that door.”
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly. “I came here fully prepared to force the first vet I found to help her.”
His gaze settled on Grian.
“But I didn’t have to force you.”
Grian swallowed.
“Uh,” he said. “I can, um… make you a coffee? If you want.”
The offer came automatically, months of working behind the counter apparently stronger than his common sense.
Phantom blinked, clearly caught off guard, then his gaze settled on Grian and stayed there, studying him with a new kind of interest.
Then he smiled.
Slow, sharp and far too pleased. And that was when it properly sank in.
Grian was alone.
With a villain.
And he had just offered the guy coffee.
Phantom stepped closer.
For a second, Grian thought he might actually accept. Then the villain’s hand lifted toward him, fingers hovering just short of his arm.
He stopped.
His gaze dropped to Jellie, safe and warm against his chest.
Something in his expression tightened.
Slowly, his hand fell back to his side.
“Tempting,” he said, the word carrying a faint edge of frustration. “But I should get this little lady home.”
Jellie let out a small, insistent meow.
Phantom glanced down at her.
“Yes, yes. I know.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at Grian.
When he spoke again, power threaded through every word.
“You won’t tell anyone about what happened here.”
Grian’s breath caught.
The command settled heavily into his mind, absolute and impossible to ignore.
“I’m sorry,” Phantom said, adjusting the now-squirming cat in his arms. “I can’t take the risk.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the name tag on Grian’s chest before lifting again.
“Thank you, Grian,” he said quietly. “For her. For everything.”
Then he turned and headed for the door without waiting for a response. The bell chimed once as he stepped outside.
Grian stood there for several seconds after he was gone.
Then he sank down against the counter and buried his face in his hands.
“That was so stupid,” he muttered.
“So stupid.”
The café was quiet again, save for the soft sounds of cats moving around.
Traitors, Grian thought fondly. Not one of them had so much as twitched in his defence while a villain had been standing right there.
He closed his eyes.
He could still see that small body cradled in Phantom’s arms. The way the man had looked frantic and lost, as if the whole world had narrowed down to one little life.
Grian pressed his palms into his eyes and let out a slow breath.
He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
The rest of the day went on as normal, as if he hadn’t just had a stare-down with a supervillain.
Customers drifted in and out as the morning stretched on, and the events from earlier already began to feel more like a dream than reality. The television above the counter flickered quietly in the background, little more than harmless noise.
Grian looked up just as the broadcast switched to a live news feed. They were interviewing the city’s number one hero.
Xisuma stood at a podium, masked as always, with the familiar insignia of the Hero Commission projected behind him. His voice was calm and steady.
“Reports of villain activity are increasing,” Xisuma said, facing the camera. “While incidents across the city have become more frequent, I urge all citizens to remain calm, stay vigilant, and report any suspicious activity immediately.”
Grian winced.
He had a feeling secretly healing a supervillain’s cat fell somewhere under suspicious activity.
Grian kept watching Xisuma as he spoke and wondered, not for the first time, whether he was sleeping enough. Eating properly. Taking any time for himself at all.
His thoughts drifted despite himself.
Xisuma had been there when Grian was young and alone. He had kept the Commission from looking too closely at his powers, downplaying what Grian could do and making sure no one thought him worth investigating.
Later, he had introduced Grian to Mumbo, insisting it would be safer that way. Grian hadn’t understood what he meant at the time.
He did now.
Xisuma was the closest thing Grian had to a parent.
Which meant they had to be careful. Too much contact would invite questions, and questions were the last thing either of them wanted aimed at Grian.
Grian let out a quiet sigh as the broadcast ended and the screen shifted back to regular programming.
He turned the volume down and went back to steaming milk, trying not to think about it.
On the way home, Grian stopped at the corner store and picked up something easy for dinner. At the till, he hesitated before adding a pack of Mumbo’s favourite biscuits to the pile.
By the time his apartment building came into view, he was more than ready to be home. He climbed the stairs two at a time, keys already in hand.
The moment he stepped inside, the familiar smell of oil and metal greeted him. Something mechanical hummed from Mumbo’s room.
“Grian?” Mumbo called out. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” Grian replied, toeing off his shoes before leaning back against the door for a moment, enjoying the simple relief of being home.
Mumbo poked his head around the corner, frowning when he found him still standing there.
“You good there, buddy?”
Grian startled slightly, then smiled. “Yeah. Just a long day.”
Mumbo hummed, not entirely convinced, but didn’t push. His gaze dropped to the grocery bag in Grian’s hand.
“I can handle dinner, if you want. You look wiped.”
Grian’s smile tightened. “No,” he said quickly. “Please. I would really like the apartment to stay in one piece.”
Mumbo spluttered. “I can cook.”
“You can build rockets,” Grian countered. “That doesn’t mean I trust you with a stove.”
Mumbo grumbled something under his breath and disappeared back into his room.
Grian still didn’t understand how someone capable of designing propulsion systems could be so completely incapable of boiling water without incident.
He shook his head and carried the grocery bag into the kitchen. After unpacking, he pulled out the biscuits and placed three on a small plate before taking them over to where Mumbo was hunched over his workbench.
“A little pre-dinner snack,” Grian said, setting the plate beside him.
Mumbo looked up, surprise flickering across his face before softening into something warm.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, already reaching for one.
Grian smiled as he headed back toward the kitchen.
For all his brilliance, Mumbo had always been terrible at looking after himself. Grian didn’t mind picking up the slack.
He returned to the kitchen and continued unpacking the groceries, doing his best not to think about Phantom.
It had been a one-off, he told himself. A strange interruption to an otherwise normal day.
He would probably never see the man again.
Grian set a pot on the stove and turned his attention to dinner.
Still, he couldn’t help wondering whether Jellie was doing all right.