Cozy sweaters

Diesel pushes through the heavy wooden door of The Howling Moon, his large paw resting on the small of my back. The warm glow of neon signs and the low hum of chatter wash over us. A bass-heavy beat pulses from somewhere deeper in the bar. Diesel's rainbow mohawk catches the light as he scans the room, his tail swaying lazily behind him.

"Babe, there's a spot by the window." He nods toward an empty booth, his emerald green eyes crinkling as he grins down at me. "After you, little wolf."

That grin still does something stupid to my chest.

He gives my hip a gentle squeeze as we weave past a pride flag strung above the bar and a pair of otters slow-dancing to a song that's definitely not a slow song. A few regulars nod their hellos. I catch our reflection in the window as we reach the booth, neon glinting off my septum ring, Diesel towering behind me like a bodyguard in a mohawk. I can't help grinning.

I slide into the booth. "Hey, big wolf, I'm gonna hit the bathroom. Can you order me something to eat?"

“Of course I will babe.”

I head toward the bathroom, weaving past the dance floor, and that's when I notice him: a bat about my age, sitting alone in a corner booth, bundled up in an oversized sweater like it's the only thing holding him together. The fur on his cheeks is damp and matted. He's been crying.

Something tugs at my chest. I slow down for half a second, then keep walking. It's not my business.

Still, I glance back before I push through the bathroom door. He's staring at his phone like it just broke his heart.

I take a spot at a urinal, then wash my paws at the sink. On my way back out, I see the small bat still staring at his phone.

I walk back to our booth and take my seat beside Diesel.

"Is something wrong, little wolf?"

I glance at the bat once more. "I'm not sure, big wolf.”

Diesel shifts his weight, his large frame taking up a good portion of the booth as he looks in the direction of my gaze. He follows my eyes to the corner, his expression softening. The playful grin from earlier fades into something more observant.

"The little guy in the sweater?" Diesel asks softly. .He leans back, his shoulder brushing against mine. "Yeah, he's been here for an hour. Haven't seen him order a thing. Just staring at that screen like it's a cursed object."

.Diesel lets out a low hum in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the seat. He doesn't push, but he doesn't look away either. He knows me too well.

"You've got that look in your eye, babe," he says with a small, knowing smile. "The one where you can't just let things be.”

A waitress, a snappy-looking cheetah in a glittery apron, slides a plate of loaded fries and two drinks onto the table with a practiced flourish. She glances toward the corner booth and sighs.

"Poor kid's a regular this week," the waitress mutters, leaning in close. "Comes in, sits in the dark, looks like his world ended. It's depressing the other patrons."

Diesel looks at me, raising an eyebrow. .He reaches over and gives my paw a supportive squeeze.

"So, what's the play, little wolf? You want to be the mystery benefactor, or are we just gonna let him drown in that sweater?"

I sip my drink.

Big wolf we've been looking for a third for our relationship and he looks like he needs a little love.

Diesel freezes mid-sip, his eyes widening as he nearly chokes on his drink. He lets out a loud, barking laugh that draws a few curious glances from the nearby tables, his rainbow mohawk shaking with the force of it.

"Straight to the point tonight, huh?" .He grins, the expression turning from surprised to genuinely intrigued. He looks back at the bat, then back to me, his gaze softening with a mix of amusement and admiration.

"I like the way you think, babe. You've always had a soft spot for the broken ones." .He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble. "He's definitely cute in a 'pathetic wet puppy' kind of way. Plus, he'd fit right in between us. Imagine that little guy tucked in under our arms."

.Diesel shifts his posture, suddenly looking a bit more predatory—not in a mean way, but in that protective, provider way he gets. .He reaches for a fry, popping it into his mouth before pointing a claw toward the corner.

"Alright then. How do you want to handle this? You want to be the one to break the ice, or should I go over there and loom over him with my 'terrifying' charm until he looks up?"

"No no big wolf we don't wanna terrify the little bat we want him comfortable." I motion for the waitress as she walks back over and I hand her 40 dollars. "Could you please get him another drink and maybe something to eat miss?”

The cheetah waitress looks at the money, then back at me, her expression shifting from her usual professional hustle to something genuinely touched. She takes the bills with a quick, appreciative nod.

"You're a sweetheart. I'll bring him a burger and a drink on the house—well, on your house," she winks "I'll make sure he actually eats it."

She disappears toward the bar, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake. Diesel watches her go, then looks back at me, his chest puffing out just a bit. He reaches over and rubs his thumb across the back of my paw, his voice warm and honeyed.

"Thoughtful, Kind, Absolute killer move," Diesel murmurs. He leans his head back against the booth, his emerald eyes tracking the bat in the corner. "Now we just wait for the food to do the talking. Once he's fed and not shaking like a leaf, he might actually be able to hear us if we say hello."

The bat hasn't moved. He's still huddled in that oversized sweater, the blue light of the phone screen illuminating the dampness of his fur. He looks small—fragile, almost—against the dark wood of the booth.

"You want to give him a few minutes to settle in with the food first?" Diesel asks. He gives my shoulder a little nudge. "Or are you feeling impatient, little wolf?”

"We should wait big wolf"  I rest my head against diesels shoulder.

Diesel lets out a contented sigh, wrapping a heavy arm around me and pulling me closer until I'm tucked firmly against his side. He rests his chin on top of my head, the scent of old leather and something vaguely like cedarwood clinging to him.

"Patience is a virtue. I can do patience," he rumbles, his voice vibrating through my chest. He begins to absentmindedly scratch behind my ear, his claws carefully blunt, just the way I like it.

Across the room, the cheetah waitress arrives at the corner booth. She doesn't just drop the food; she sets the plate of steaming fries and a burger down with a gentle clink, leaning in to say something soft to the bat.

The bat flinches slightly at first, his shoulders bunching up toward his ears. But as he looks at the meal—and realizes it wasn't ordered by him—he slowly lowers his phone. He looks around the dimly lit bar, his large, dark eyes searching the crowd with a mixture of confusion and hesitation.

Diesel doesn't move, but I can feel his muscles tense with anticipation. He keeps his gaze fixed on the bat, a small, supportive smile playing on his lips.

"He's looking for the source of the miracle," Diesel whispers. He gives my shoulder another gentle squeeze. "He looks like he's about to cry again, but this time, maybe for a different reason."

"Wait here big wolf please" I slide out of the booth as I walk over to the bats booth seeing his ID on the table I notice his name Parvas i slowly approach him as i gently place a paw on his shoulder.

Diesel lets out a soft, encouraging huff. He stays put, leaning back with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his emerald eyes watching me with a mix of pride and curiosity. He's the anchor, letting me lead the way.

As I approach, the bat jumps slightly, his wings twitching beneath the fabric of his oversized sweater. He looks up, eyes wide and bloodshot, blinking rapidly as he processes my presence. Up close, he looks even smaller, almost swallowed by the wool of his clothes.

When my paw touches his shoulder, he doesn't pull away, but he shudders, a small, shaky breath escaping him. He looks from my paw to my face, his gaze lingering on my septum ring before landing on my eyes.

"I... I didn't..." he starts, his voice small and raspy, like he's been talking to no one for hours. He glances down at the steaming burger and the drink the waitress left behind, then back at me. "Who... why would someone do this?"

He looks completely lost, the kind of look that makes you want to wrap him in a blanket and never let him go. His phone is still lying face-up on the table, the screen dimmed, but I can see a glimpse of a message that looks like a final goodbye.

sighs softly. "May i sit with you for a moment”

Parvas blinks, his long eyelashes still clumped together from tears. He looks at the empty seat across from him and then back up at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and a tiny, flickering spark of hope.

He doesn't say yes immediately, but he slowly slides over toward the wall of the booth, creating a small pocket of space for me. It's a tentative invitation, a silent admission that he's tired of being alone in the dark.

"I... I guess so," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pulse of the bar's music.

As I slide into the booth, he instinctively pulls the oversized sweater tighter around himself, curling his wings slightly around his sides. He looks down at the burger, the scent of the food finally seeming to register. .His stomach lets out a quiet, traitorous growl, and a faint, embarrassed flush of pink creeps into his greyish fur.

"I didn't ask for this," he adds, glancing toward the kitchen where the waitress is. "I can't... I can't pay for it.”

"No no sweetie you don't have to pay me for this please eat im gonna go back over here and sit with my mate and if you'd like you can join us im Shamrock by the way”

Parvas looks at me, his eyes widening slightly at the word 'sweetie.' It's a look of pure, startled confusion, as if he's forgotten that people can be kind to strangers without wanting something in return. .He looks down at the food and then back at me, his expression softening into something fragile.

"Shamrock," he repeats softly, the name sounding like a question. He gives a tiny, hesitant nod, though he doesn't look entirely sure of himself. "I'm... Parvas."

As I stand up to leave, he looks toward the booth where Diesel is waiting. He sees the large wolf—the rainbow mohawk, the broad shoulders, the protective way he's watching us—and Parvas swallows hard. He looks intimidated, but there's a flicker of curiosity there, too. He's never seen anyone look as confident and colorful as Diesel.

"Thank you... Shamrock," he whispers, his voice trembling just a little.

I walk back to my booth, feeling his gaze following me. When I slide back in next to Diesel, the big wolf is grinning from ear to ear. He doesn't say a word, but he shifts his weight, opening up the space in the booth even more, effectively creating a welcoming gap for a third person.

"So," Diesel rumbles, his voice low and teasing as he leans closer to my ear. "How's our little bat doing? Does he look like he's coming over, or do we need to send a second round of fries to seal the deal?"

"I don't know, big wolf I saw on his phone looked like a final goodbye from a long relationship partner. He is skittish and a little nervous" I softly rub Diesel's thigh. "If he decides to join us it will be when he's ready no need to rush.”

Diesel's expression shifts instantly. The teasing glint in his emerald eyes vanishes, replaced by a deep, grounding empathy. .He looks over at Parvas, and this time, the gaze isn't about curiosity or attraction—it's a look of genuine protective instinct.

"A breakup, huh?" Diesel murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that low, comforting rumble that always makes me feel safe. He lets out a slow breath, his tail giving a singular, heavy thump against the seat. "God, that's the worst kind of cold. When the person who was your home suddenly locks the door."

He looks down at my paw on his thigh, covering my hand with his own large, warm paw. He squeezes gently, acknowledging the softness of my heart.

"You're right. No rushing," Diesel says firmly. "He's probably feeling like the world just collapsed under his feet. The last thing he needs is a big, loud wolf barreling into his space."

Diesel settles back, his posture becoming less imposing and more relaxed. He doesn't look away from Parvas, but he stops the intense observation, instead offering a small, distant, encouraging smile every time the bat glances their way.

"We'll just be the lighthouse, then," Diesel whispers. "We'll stay right here, looking warm and steady, until he decides he's had enough of the dark.”