#fearhims3lf

Dear Flappy, give me the strength to not eat this guy. 

Viv’s eyes were cast to heaven (well, not heaven. She was staring at the ceiling, where a seven year old pancake everyone called Flappy was still stuck, and Viv considered to be the patron saint keeping her from eating her more annoying customers) as she zoned out to the dulcet tones of a forty year old man who insisted he knew what he wanted, but was mulling over literally every single item on the menu. Any time she suggested she could return in five minutes once he’d made up his mind, the guy with the noticeable colored hairspray covering up the bald patch on the back of his head insisted he was ready now. 

White teeth were forced into a grimace of a smile as he hemmed and hawed over pancakes or waffles or both- or what about eggs? Viv heard the bell on the door jangle, announcing a customer. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see who had walked in, and the forced smile became something slightly more genuine. But then Spray Paint Hair Salon changed his mind about his drink order, and the woman barely restrained herself from stabbing him with her pencil. 

A full five minutes later, the man’s order was finally in (short stack of chocolate chip with strawberry compote and whip, side of well done bacon, two sunny side up, and a large black coffee with seven and a half sugars), Viv made her way over to the only other person in the diner at that late hour. She dropped her voice so her boss wouldn’t hear her as she lost her attempt at cheery customer service entirely. “Holy fucking shit am I glad it’s you that walked through the door, and not another dipshit who can’t make up his mind. It’s a fucking breakfast place. Order some pancakes and call it a day, holy shit.” She heaved a sigh, happy to have the rant temporarily out of her system. “Anyway. What’s up handsome? What am I getting you on this incredibly tedious evening?”

—

When it came to his late night adventures, Mateo wasn't always out committing a crime. Nor was he feasting on his next victim. Sometimes, when Xóchitl was sound asleep and mobile games could no longer hold his attention, Mateo liked to head to the diner where could not only eat some of his favorite dishes, but get some chisme, too. 

“Hey, Viv, how's the almighty Flappy?” The mare removed his jacket and offered the waitress a grin. She was bitterly annoyed by the only other customer in the place, which led Mateo to say something a little more forward. “Well, we could always go to the back for your break and then by the time we're done, my usual will be hot and ready for me.” 

He smirked knowingly, gaze flashing over to the piece of work Viv had just taken an order for. “Doubt Spray Paint Advertisement will be gone, but you'll be satisfied, no problem.” Mateo’s face lit up with an amused grin and he leaned back in his booth. There was a real offer in there somewhere, sure, but he didn't mind a little rejection. Hell, Viv was working.

__

“Oh he’s great. Still hasn’t granted me the secrets of the universe, or given me a sign that violence actually is the answer that I can start biting people. Pretty average day for Flappy, honestly.” Viv glanced up at the gravity defying pancake, as though it would suddenly give her the high sign that she was all good to make the indecisive middle aged man into her midnight snack, audience be damned. 

Viv couldn’t help the grin that wormed its way onto her face. “Damn, I’ve only got a fifteen left before my shift is over. You sure that’s enough time for satisfaction guaranteed?” She teased. If her boss ever overheard her, she’d probably be fired. But hey, Mateo had started it. And it was the middle of night, it wasn’t like a family of four was seated at the booth behind her. The place was empty, and-

“Miss? Excuse me Miss? Miss? Miss, excuse me?” Came the nasal whine from the other side of the diner. Viv closed her eyes and counted to three, heaving out a slow hiss of a breath as she pressed her tongue against the tip of an ever sharpening canine. You cannot eat spray paint dye job, you cannot eat spray paint dye job, you cannot - “Miss?” Viv opened her eyes, looking at Mateo as though to say ‘are you fucking kidding me’ before scribbling down Mateo’s usual order. “I’ll be right back.” She insisted, keeping a tight reign on her desire to play darts with the bald guy’s head as her target. 

Viv smoothed a hand over the front of her retro diner uniform, and approached the other diner. “Yes, what can I get for you?” She asked, masking the annoyance in her voice with a nearly toxic sweetness. “Yes, I’d like to change my order- can I get blueberry preserves instead? Oh, and a half a grapefruit. And more sugar for my coffee.” Viv blinked. She’d already seen him dump an obscene amount of sugar into the beverage. She could see the evidence of it littering the table. And yet it still wasn’t sweet enough. Viv grabbed a fistfull of sugar packets off the caddy on the next table and dumped them on the table in front of him. “I’ll get that order change in.” Viv’s beaten up combat boots pivoted and she went back to the kitchen to update the order before beelining back to Mateo’s booth, where she shamelessly plopped herself down in the booth across from him, his coffee in hand. “If you see me sharpening my pencil, either come up with an alibi or stop me.” She grumbled.

—

“Then he also hasn’t given you a sign that violence isn’t the answer.” He leaned forward, hands clasped cooly together on the table. His smile didn’t reveal his teeth, but the contentment was evident, reaching all the way up to his eyes. Though that was a little difficult to see with the shades Mateo was wearing. His upright cheeks would just have to do. 

“Fifteen minutes?” A snort, then he lowered his voice. “That’s all the time my mouth needs, honestly.” There was almost a wink tacked on to the end of that, but Mateo thought it might come off too corny or too presumptuous, so he just smiled, brows raised. “Up to–” Their conversation was interrupted by Spraypaint Cockblock. Mateo chuckled and shook his head, watching Viv walk away to ruefully do her job. He could hear the grit in her voice, laying deeply below her cheery tone. Understandable. She had a boss to placate to keep her job. 

When she returned, Mateo had an idea running through his head. A little chaos, as always, but what was a little danger between friends? “I can get rid of him for you, if you want.” He looked over Viv’s shoulder. “No pencil required.”

__

“Mateo, I like the way you think. I’m not sure my boss will, but I do.” Perhaps Flappy would be the patron saint Viv needed; the one that turned a blind eye when a customer was being an asshole. A smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth as she thought about yelling at a Karen, or opening her mouth wide to swallow an annoying little man like the one a few feet away whole… except if she did that on shift, the Viv would be stuck slithering around the diner taking everyone’s orders looking like Medusa’s hotter cousin. She sighed. 

Well he was certainly confident in his ability. Viv was about to bet he couldn’t- just to be a contrarian pain in the ass before taking him up on the offer so he could prove her wrong. But no. Of course not. The balding man with a streaky splotch of brown cover up spray on the crown of his head, who looked like his name would be something bland and milquetoast like Milton, absolutely needed more sugar packets. 

Viv rolled her shoulders as she sat down in the booth. What she wouldn’t give for an energy drink, a cigarette, and one big, snake-girl sized meal. And maybe some stress relief. Her stomach growled softly as Mateo talked about getting rid of the guy. Little did he know she would have needed very little help in that department. “Eh, I’d be fine. But you can bring music or a shovel if I really need an assist.” She blinked a few times, trying to ignore the thought of a tasty little snack. But her vision had shifted. She was certain she was staring at the man with bright red eyes instead of brown ones. Shit. She blinked a few more times, hoping he’d thought the slitted pupils were a trick of the light. She amended her previous thought. An energy drink, a cigarette, a snake-girl sized meal, stress relief, and for whatever the fuck was going on in that cursed-ass town to settle so she could at least have more control over her shifting. Her eyes landed on the shiny ring on the man’s left hand. “And Mister or Missus Mateo doesn’t mind you offering your services to random women from the diner?” She asked, her mouth quirking into a half smile. It wouldn’t have been her first time seeing an alternative arrangement. She had lived for years in the definition of an alternative lifestyle. But she was not about to step in where she shouldn’t. “Shiny bit of hardware you picked up. Congratulations are in order, I assume?”

—

“Just whack him with a forget-stick and all will be fine. Trust me, I'm a professional.” Which wasn't actually a lie! Viv should definitely not trust him though, because more often than not, people did indeed still remember after being knocked out, but still. She didn't have to know that. 

There was a faint growl coming from Viv's stomach, and as he began to raise a curious brow, Mateo caught the way the woman's eyes changed. The pupil was reptilian and her iris was a hue of red. Had he not seen the slit pupil, Mateo would've thought she might be a mare, but it was obvious she was something else entirely. 

Now, he wasn't exactly knowledgeable on what kinds of species there were in the world, but if he had to guess, Viv was a snake shifter person. Something along those lines. The only way to confirm was to ask, so Mateo leaned forward to keep the question quiet, but was quickly diverted by Viv's question. 

“Are you–oh.” He looked at his hand and chuckled. “Yeah. Missus Soon-to-be-Lara–who proposed to me by the way–has her own services and I have mine. Sometimes they come together, sometimes not.” Shrugging, Mateo took the opportunity to circle back to his own question, trying not to seem like he's bouncing. “If I do provide you mine though…” His voice lowered, as did his sunglasses. “Am I gonna get bit or something?”

__

“God, if the forget stick worked on the shit show that would create, I’d bonk my boss with it all the time.” But Viv was pretty sure watching your employee who was suddenly and inexplicably a gigantic snake woman swallow down a patron before digging through their wallet and coiling up comfortably to have a little post dinner nap wasn’t one of those things one simply forgot. 

“Congratulations,” she gave him a little round of applause. Viv didn’t think she’d ever settle down. The nearly three years stuck in one place had her skin crawling. She felt like an animal, trapped in a cage at the zoo, watching as everyone else came and went freely. She couldn’t think of trying herself to one place, much less one person. But for Mateo, it seemed he and his fiancée had worked out their own arrangement. Good for them. 

Viv’s eyes flared with interest as his glasses dipped down, revealing glowing red eyes. Now that was interesting. No one was coming out of the kitchen, and no one else was likely to come in at that time of night. So, she decided to unwind a bit. She blinked, and leaned into the middle of the table, watching the definitely-not-quite-human with interest, slitted red eyes unblinking. She felt her skin prickle as the smattering of pale pink scales that always seemed to creep up her cheeks and around her eyes when she was relaxed settle onto her face, like she’d shed a layer of skin, and they’d always been just under the surface. 

“Bite?” Viv licked her lips before it darted out a second time, forked and flickering for a minute before she tucked it back behind a grin. “Only if you ask me very nicely. Him, however…” she bit her once again normal tongue between sharpened teeth that seemed to curve in, meant for gripping and dragging prey down. “It’s less of a bite situation and more of a swallowing one. And that, unfortunately, takes a hell of a lot longer than fifteen minutes.” 

—

“I mean…” Mateo pursed his lips knowingly and sucked his teeth. “I can probably take care of your boss too. No mess, either.” All it would take was a simple touch and voila, they'd be asleep and Viv could have her snack. Perhaps Mateo too if Viv wasn't too tired, but that wasn’t exactly the priority at the moment.

“Thanks,” The mare smiled a little bashfully to himself, the curl of his lips just a tad smug at knowing what a bad woman he’d bagged. He felt like some kind of action fucker with the best life possible. Basically John Wick without all the stupid tragedy. Great movies, but they always made Mateo second guess his lifestyle for some reason. He didn’t dwell on it. Especially not when scales scattered across Viv’s face and a snake-forked tongue revealed itself. 

Mateo swallowed and felt his skin grow warm at just how attractive he found the serpent attributes. Damn. Oblivious humans must really miss out. “I’ll even beg if you want me to,” He finally said, gathering his wits about him. “Watch and you’ll be swallowing in no time.” Drumming his fingers across the table, Mateo slid out of the booth with a giant grin and sauntered over to the source of all of Viv’s problems. He plopped himself onto the neighboring stool, and clasped his hands together, to which the man grumbled and asked for Mateo to move at least one stool down. 

“Free country, right?” The mare smirked, leaning in to blow the man a kiss. He rolled his eyes and sank into himself, but Mateo didn’t let up. “Hey, watch it!” Spraypaint hissed, hips swiveling away from Mateo. That didn’t matter much though because Mateo took the man’s seat and swung him back around to palm his face. A few muffled expletives and sounds of struggle later, and the poor guy was knocked out. Mateo led his head down carefully onto the counter, then spun around to give Viv a thumbs up.

__

“Eh, I like my boss well enough. And the guy in the kitchen.” Viv hummed, glancing through the small square pane of glass in the kitchen door, where she could see Gus working away on Mateo’s order. Her stomach twisted again, hunger making itself know. Mateo pouring gasoline on the smoldering ember of a thought that she could just eat the guy wasn’t helping her to ignore the idea. “Miss,” came the man’s whiny, insistent voice once again. “Miss I don’t think this is seven and a half sugars, it tastes like six and three quarters-“ Viv’s resolve snapped. Spraypaint had to go. 

“It won’t hurt them, will it?” She had to check. She wouldn’t even consider letting Mateo do… whatever the fuck Mateo was going to do, if Gus was going to get hurt in the process. He was a nice guy- reminded her of Grizz. Gruff, and grumpy, but always had good stories and insisted on Viv having something to eat. God she missed that old bear.  

She watched as Mateo set to work, going over to sit next to the mousy little man who quit his whining about sugars as Mateo strolled over to sit next to him. Viv observed, amused, and jammed her pen back into her bun. It wasn’t long before Spraypaint was slumped over, snoring steadily. The woman nodded slowly, impressed. “Fucking enter sandman, I guess.” She whistled. “If you can keep the others napping for…” she looked over the snoring snack that napped at the counter, trying to estimate how long she’d need for him to settle in her stomach. “Call it an hour, hour-fifteen… I think I can make this work.” 

—

“Nah. A little touch and they’re out. That’s all it is.” Mateo reassured Viv, “I’ll even make sure they don’t hit their heads.” Clicking his tongue, the mare held a finger up for Viv to give him a moment, then he promptly disappeared to search for the other two. It took only a handful of minutes for Mateo to secure the area for Viv’s meal, a few flares of his hands and a stealthy touch. He had to ensure there were no security cameras, or at the very least, he had to pause the devices so no footage was taken. He was a professional.

Returning to his spot, he stretched happily, only for his smile to fall into a frown when he realized Gus hadn’t gotten to his ticket on the orders yet. Dammit. “You owe me pancakes. I should’ve let Gus finish instead of thinking with my dick.” Mateo smacked his face and groaned, but there was an indisputable playfulness about it. Realistically, he could leave now and make some pancakes himself. That would take effort, though. On top of  that, he didn’t want to miss the show.

“So…do I get to watch you swallow?”

__

“Neat trick.” Viv was almost jealous. The ability to put someone to sleep with just a touch must have been convenient. She could imagine it could get him out of some scrapes. It scratched at something in the back of her mind. She was fairly certain someone with a similar skill set had joined the merry little band of performers with Brousseau & O’Tuach’s not long before she’d wound up stuck in Wicked’s Rest. Viv hadn’t spoken with them much, and she couldn’t remember what they’d called what they were. But she could remember Grizz had added them to ‘security’. 

Within minutes, quiet fell over the diner. Viv felt that gnawing pang in her stomach as she looked at the now unconscious customer. She tilted her head to the side a moment, trying to see if there was any reason she shouldn’t make him a snack. She cast into his pockets, fishing out his phone and wallet. A few minutes of snooping told her he likely wouldn’t have anyone looking for him, and his hobbies included leaving shitty yelp reviews about places that didn't meet his exact specifications. Viv shrugged. Good enough for her. She snorted at Mateo’s grumblings about his pancakes. “Sucks to suck. Should have waited for Gus to say order up.” The woman sighed, languidly stretching her back as she slipped into something more comfortable. 

When she’d been younger, she’d found the transition from legs to a tail jarring. It wasn’t until she was practically an adult, finding a home with the circus, that it felt right. “Think of it like shedding a skin.” Stasi had told her, her own legs disappearing as grey scales appeared, fusing the limbs together until one long tail curled out beneath her. “It’s still you, no matter what form you’re in. You’re just changing to adapt to your new situation.” Fangs emerged from gums that had gone from pink to inky black. Viv had always thought Stasi had gotten a better deal out of the lamia curse. The woman who had become like an older sister to her shared her appearance with a black mamba, and picked up the viper’s venomous bite. Viv looked more like the sort of snake people kept as pets. Small and unthreatening. But when it came down to it, they were both deadly when they were hungry. 

Viv shuddered in anticipation. Pink scales rippled across her skin, her legs pressing together until a smooth sheen of pink and white scales formed one long tail that curved across the diner’s linoleum floor as she slithered closer to her prey. “Sure,” The lamia turned back to wink one red serpentine eye at her assistant. Pink scales had crept up her neck up onto the sides of her face- her blush, Stasi had jokingly called it. “I don’t mind an audience.” The last syllable came out as a hiss on a forked tongue. She turned her attention back to her meal with a grin, before her mouth opened far wider than any humans ever should, and she feasted. 

—

Mateo groaned petulantly, slouching with disappointment and laying his upper body dramatically over the counter. In that position, all he had to do was lift his head up to see what Viv was getting up to. He blinked at the sight, marveling at how her skin and eyes gave way to something more reptilian. 

An instinctual, prey-like shiver ran down Mateo's spine. He knew he was fine. He knew he was safe. It was just that his hard-wired prey drive begged him to use his common sense and turn around to run. No chance of that though, so Mateo remained, stock-still and happily wide-eyed. He could even feel the inkling of a little, sinister twinkle brightening more and more the longer he looked.

What was playing out in front of him was pure horror. Disgusting horror. It delighted the mare. So much so that Mateo stayed completely quiet during the whole process. As someone prone to over-talk, that meant he was absolutely mesmerized. A delighted, demented smile spread across his face for the entirety of the show, and when Viv finished her meal, she received applause. 

“Fuckin’ shit, man. Do it again!”

___

Viv knew eating the man ‘clothes and all’ would wreak havoc on her stomach later, but a little indigestion in the name of an actual meal was worth it. She’d grab Tums on her way home. When she’d been a little girl, this part had always frightened her. The way she could swallow down prey as big as she was with so little effort. There’d been a time when she was scared she was a freak- that no one alive was like her in that regard. No one else was cursed to gobble down live prey the same way a snake would feast on a rat. Finding the circus had truly changed her life. She hadn’t been alone anymore. 

The lamia swallowed down the last of the annoying patron, her thumb swiping smudged lipstick back into place. Viv stretched, coiling in on herself as the drowsy contentment of a full stomach washed over her. “No one else here’s worth eating,” she yawned, curved teeth and forked tongue glaringly apparent as she curled into a ball of pink scales. “Plus, then I’d probably be out of commission for at least two hours.” The tip of her tail flickered from where it poked out of the coils of pale scales. “Find me another asshole to eat next month, and sure, you can have a repeat performance.” Red eyes blinked lazily as she watched the only other conscious soul in the place. “Do me a favor, and I’ll comp your pancakes you never got. Just make sure nobody comes in and sees the big ass snake lady and gets any stupid ideas.”

—

Looking around the restaurant, and then outside through the windows, everything was quiet. A minute had passed and no car had driven by. Another went, and still, nothing. Mateo checked his watch and noted the time. Three in the morning. Pretty fucking late for anyone to be out, but then again, what was Mateo doing? He chuckled to himself and watched Viv with amusement. 

“That's two favors so far, Vibora.” He gestured to Viv's stomach and then pointed his thumb back toward the kitchen and manager's office. “Actually, make that three.” Mateo snorted, dragging out a stool from the bartop. He wasn't actually keeping score, but it wasn't in him to just let a tease slip from his fingers. 

Plopping himself down on the stool, Mateo took a deep breath and leaned backwards against the wall by the front entrance. He stretched hard with a groan and took out his phone, shooting a smile over to Viv. Maybe he didn't get his pancakes, but he sure did have fun. “Hurry up and nap. I wanna be home before sunrise.”

—

She rolled her eyes as she settled down. “Hey, you offered. Can’t blame a bitch for taking advantage of the situation.” Viv sighed, stretching every last muscle in her body before lazily resting down on the warm pink scales of her tale. The gnawing hunger in her stomach was satiated for a good while now, and no one other than spray paint guy had gotten hurt. And she had a friend with a handy little party trick. 

As far as non-shifters went, Mateo was pretty all right. He had good taste in music, and he tended to go along with Rory’s less legal ideas in a way plenty of people didn’t like. He knew a lot of cool stuff, too, and while Rory had no idea if he was human or not, he at least seemed chill with the supernatural. (He’d taken peppers that made them breathe fire in stride, after all, which was certainly more than could be said for most people.) All these factors came together to make him someone Rory didn’t mind hanging out with.

Especially when the hangouts were like this. 

It was dark out, which was the best time to do this sort of thing. The spray paint can was tossed skillfully between Rory’s hands as she studied the car in front of her, trying to decide the best place to paint her message. She’d been distracted as of late — her latest shifting lessons with Guillermo were going well, and she’d managed to shift outside the full moon more than once now, with… confusing results. Something felt off, felt strange; she wondered if the oddness of the town was causing unforeseen shifting issues on top of her existing ones. It was a little frustrating, like one step forward and ten more back. 

She didn’t realize she’d been staring at the car a little too long until the sound of Mateo’s paint can spraying nearby stopped. She heard his footsteps approaching, turned towards him with a quiet click of her tongue. “This is a delicate process,” she said, as if offering an excuse for her hesitation. “I need to decide where to draw the dick, and where to write the words. It’s serious stuff, man.”

—

For the last fifteen minutes, the area was filled with the sounds of shaking spraypaint cans and the hiss of aerosol spreading the paint. Basically the sounds of Mateo’s childhood that he'd long since enjoyed alone after his move to Wicked’s Rest. 

Though, for a more accurate timeline, he'd probably been up to no good by himself since he moved out of his parents home at eighteen. Even living a block away so he could still help as needed was a lonely endeavor. Childhood was over. Mateo's siblings had children and new responsibilities that he stayed away from for one reason or another. Reasons he never really wanted to think about. So, for things to go quiet for his partner in crime next to him, Mateo noticed pretty quickly and stopped adding details to the nipples of the boobs he was making. 

“A real artist goes with the flow. Come on. You're better than this.”

—

Rory laughed as Mateo spoke, but even that was a distracted thing. She was thinking of… the flower shop with Oliver, or of the lessons with Guillermo. Other things, too; the woods with Vic months ago, all the other things in this town that made no sense. Rory wasn’t sure what to do with it. She felt like she was on the cusp of getting everything she’d been working towards all her life, but something about it felt wrong, somehow. Maybe that was how things were for everyone; maybe achieving your goals was always a little scary. 

She didn’t want to let it ruin her time with Mateo, though. She shook her can again, spraying paint carefully and dragging it along into a phallic shape. “Sorry. I guess I might be a little distracted. Things have been kind of… weird lately.” She hesitated. She assumed Mateo was human, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t know about things. In this town, she’d run into a few humans who seemed to know something, even if they didn’t know a lot. And she trusted Mateo, so she continued. “Have you noticed it? Like… everything’s a little fucked, isn’t it?”

—

Shaking the spray can, the mixing ball rattled around. Mateo pursed his lips in thought as he processed Rory's question, the rattle slowing its echoes within the can while he slowed the movement of his wrist. He had definitely noticed something different with the town. Hell, after years of not needing sleep, Mateo was finding himself fighting to keep his eyes open at times and indulging in a slumber didn't help. 

Noticing wasn't enough though because Rory wanted confirmation that she wasn't alone in that. Mateo wondered quietly how much he could reveal of himself. After all, Rory seemed human. Which wasn't worth much when almost everyone did at first glance. What kind of risk would he be taking if he removed his sunglasses to reveal his glowing red eyes? And why hadn't Rory made fun of him for it yet?

“Well,” Mateo adjusted his crouched position, lips in a flat line. “Yeah.” He sighed, “Been noticing for a while, if I'm honest.”

—

Rory frowned, unease licking quietly at the backs of her heels like something chasing her with intentions still unclear. There was a tightness in her chest she hadn’t been able to shake since that first successful shift with Guillermo, something that seemed intent on sticking around for what came after despite the fact that she had no name for it. Control had never felt like a slippery thing outside of the full moon; if anything, Rory’s problem had always been the opposite. Penelope often seemed silent when the moon was a sliver in the sky, though the senses she awarded Rory stuck around in spite of the disconnect. Lately, though, Rory felt herself slipping more often. She wasn’t sure how to feel about jumping from one extreme to another; she’d only wanted to find a happy medium.

“It doesn’t feel… I don’t know, different lately?” She pressed, trying to determine how much of this was her and how much was something she could blame on someone else. On some level, she knew she was asking the wrong person. From what she could tell, Mateo was human. A human with a seriously messed up fashion sense (seriously, sunglasses at night?), but human all the same. Her problems were so distinctly supernatural — so distinctly shifter — that she doubted there was any hope he could relate. “Like… I don’t know.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Have you felt anything weirder than usual?”

—

The more Rory explained, the heavier it all felt. She was struggling with something that she didn't understand, and the anxiety that came with that grew in strength as time passed. Mateo's brows cinched worriedly together, and he was left uncertain on what to say. Surely if Rory felt how much stranger things had been, she had to be different too, right? She had to feel the changes because she herself was supernatural. That was Mateo's deduction, at least. 

“Uh…” He scratched his temple, clearly feeling a little at odds with himself. If his reasoning proved wrong, how the fuck would he explain it away? Would he have to? Rory didn't really give a fuck. She clearly took the fire peppers with stride. “Well,” Mateo began again, just ripping the bandaid off. Meaning, he ripped off his sunglasses to reveal his glowing red eyes. “Yeah. I've been feeling how weird shit is.” 

—

Whatever she’d been expecting him to do, it wasn’t this. She’d figured the sunglasses at night decision was just an older guy trying painfully hard to be cool (something she’d been planning on pointing out when the moment was right, of course), but the moment he took them off, Rory realized the truth was something… different. Something strange and complicated, something she didn’t quite have the tools to understand. Mateo had red eyes, and they were glowing in a way that couldn’t be explained away by contacts. Rory felt a strange unease that was pushed aside and replaced by the fact that, in spite of everything, she trusted Mateo.

“Okay,” she breathed, eyes darting over him carefully as if looking for any other inhuman features. He still just looked like Mateo. Tough guy exterior hiding a man who loved gardening and made sure she got away from the cops when they ran, letting her hide out in his apartment as necessary. Whatever else he was, he was her friend first. “That’s… pretty sick, honestly. How’d you swing the glowing eyes?” She smiled, looking almost relieved. “I guess you kind of know exactly what I’m talking about, then.” A pause. And then, “I, um… I’m a balam. A wildcat shifter. Ocelot, to be specific. But I’m — I’m not… good at it? I’ve never been able to… do it outside of really specific circumstances. Except recently, I’ve been practicing, and I thought… I thought I was getting better. I’ve shifted without those specific circumstances a few times now, even. But it’s not… controlled, you know? It’s just… random.” It was certainly more detail about her situation than she’d ever given anyone who wasn’t a shifter. She felt like she was holding her breath a little, waiting to see how Mateo might react.

—

“Yeah I know,” Mateo winked smugly and crossed his arms with just as much gusto. He loved being a mare most days, and he loved it even more at night. Because, after all, he always liked adding a flair of drama. “Scoring these bad boys was a lot.” He explained, disappearing into the astral in a blink. After a few seconds, he popped up behind Rory adding, “But definitely worth it.” 

There was a huge grin plastered on his face, although he felt his insides twisting under the pressure of his newfound realization that he'd been battling with. But that didn't matter right then. Rory was trying to explain something to Mateo and he was more than willing to oblige. As he listened, his brows raised and his expression transitioned into a mixture of concern and curiosity. He'd managed to meet two balams, but he lacked any real knowledge on them, so he was ultimately useless. At least in the informational department. Being a friend on the other hand, he could definitely do. 

“Yeah, things have been weird for me, but not that weird. Granted, I don't shift. I'm a mare. Undead. Most I've noticed are spikes in hunger and I actually feel sleepy now, which I haven't since I died.” Mateo pursed his lips, thinking aloud. “Anyone else you know experiencing that struggle? I can try to see what shifters I know.”

—

Mateo vanished like a shadow, and Rory felt her eyes widen. The surprise felt even bigger when he reappeared behind her, speaking again in a way that might have made her jump if she were a jumpier sort of person. “Whoa,” she breathed, turning around to face him once more. “What…” Was it rude to ask someone what they were? The etiquette of this sort of thing was new to Rory, even if she’d been born a shifter. She’d never really known anyone else supernatural outside of her own family, and obviously she’d never had to wonder what they were. Not when they were the same as her.

Her unspoken question was answered fairly quickly, anyway; Mateo wasn’t any sort of shifter. He was a mare, which was something undead. Which… apparently meant he’d died, at some point. Rory felt an odd lurch in her stomach, and she pushed the memory of Brigit’s corpse crumpled at the bottom of a stranger’s stairs far from her mind. Mateo’s… death wasn’t like that. He was here now; he was fine.

“Hungry?” She questioned instead, because that was interesting. She hadn’t felt especially hungry lately. “Like… you really want a burger or something?” She sucked her teeth, thinking of Guillermo and the animals he’d killed. “Another balam I know has been having problems, too,” she replied. “But it’s… I don’t know. Shifting is easier for him than it is for me. I think I’m just…” She paused, looking at Mateo. She trusted him, she’d decided. “I think I’m scared that all of this stuff with the town will fix itself, and I’ll still be broken.”

—

Rory went to the only assumption she had, and it gave Mateo a good chuckle. “Nah,” he shook his head. “I feed on nightmares. Everything I'm able to do helps with that.” Shrugging, Mateo starts talking a bit more with his hands, gesturing to invisible subjects and connecting them together as he explains. “So I go into the astral–which is where I go when I disappear, and then look for a tasty dream and make it a nightmare, and it satisfies my hunger. Thus, mare. Nightmare.” He patted his stomach. “Been having that itch more. Like I'm not fully satisfied. Which is real strange ‘cause a feeding would last me a week and a half. Now?” Mateo hissed, shaking his head. “I'm lucky if I can go two days.”

All of which came after the fact that he pulled back on taking jobs. With Xóchitl in the picture, he'd taken special care to ensure she didn't get tangled in that mess. With things as they are, Mateo already had three more jobs on the docket. He was even taking Joel out on one so they could both get a feeding in before Mateo had to kill his target and confirm. 

It was interesting though. His experience was vastly different from Rory's, and he couldn't help but wish he had more to offer than apologies and concerned looks. “Hey,” Mateo planted a reassuring hand on Rory's shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You won't be broken. If you're a shifter, then you're a shifter. What's this dude's problem if it's not shifting? ‘Cause it sounds to me like it's a practice on control thing.” Eyes softening, Mateo offered Rory a kind smile. “If you need help with that, I don't know what I can do, but you can always try around me.”

—

“Nightmares?” It was a strange concept, especially to someone unfamiliar with the undead outside of pop culture. Rory knew vampires existed — the scarred skin on her leg burned at that, and she quickly pushed the thought away — but she hadn’t really thought of much else beyond them. She’d never even heard of a mare, nor did she really know of any creature that fed on nightmares. Everything Mateo was saying was brand new information to her. “So you… get into people’s heads?” She considered it for a moment. “Metal. I guess that’s… I mean, it does sound kind of similar. Right?” Rory had gone from being unable to shift unless the moon was full to being unable to stop herself from shifting, and that was new the same way Mateo’s increased hunger was. It felt like a sign that the two things might be connected; Rory clung to it.

Mateo’s hand on her shoulder was an unexpected comfort. Some part of her had felt broken for as long as she could remember. It was hard not to. She’d grown up watching her siblings shift with ease, never bound to the same strange rules that held her by the throat. Her mother’s disappointment in her had never been a quiet thing, either; it was always the loudest thing in the room. Mateo’s words didn’t wipe away a lifetime of hearing the opposite, but… it made her feel a little better in the moment, at least. Rory would take that.

“He’s been having trouble controlling his spirit when he’s in shifted form, which I guess was never a problem for him before. It’s like… the instincts are turned up to eleven. Not just shifting without meaning to, but not being able to control it when you’re shifted. Like… your hunger.” She felt herself returning his smile gently, and she nodded. “That might be good, actually? Like, I could…” She trailed off. “Maybe we could try it now? You could see if, like, you notice anything I’m doing wrong, or something. I’ve tried it in front of other shifters, but maybe, like, the… outside perspective would be good?”

—

Mateo smirked, bouncing his brows up smugly. “Yeah, you wouldn't believe the fucked up shit people got locked away.” He thought about Daiyu and the information he'd unwillingly made her offer to him for her own torture. That was a particularly tasty meal. “I've fucked with some hunters. Even slayers, but I don't go after ‘em too often. Gotta have some kind of self-preservation, yeah?” 

Scratching his brow, Mateo listened to Rory's worries, watching the way she seemed to ease into his offer with a little relief. He smiled softly to himself, happy to be of some use for her at a time of struggle. When it came to people he considered family, all he wanted to do was grant some sort of reprieve when hope seemed lost. He wasn't very good at it, but he always tried.

“Okay,” The mare stood up and crossed his arms to study whatever Rory did. “Not sure what I'm looking for, but gimme what you got.” 

—

“Dude, I bet. What’s the fuck up thing you’ve seen?” She demanded, immediately interested. Her brow furrowed a little as he continued, head tilting to the side. Slayers? Like heavy metal fans? She could see why one might avoid going after people like that for self-preservation. Their nightmares were probably too fucked, even for someone who ate them. And they probably woke up swinging. “Definitely get avoiding that,” she agreed, making a face. “Probably lots of good stuff to eat elsewhere, anyway.”

Mateo seemed open to watching her shift, and Rory was grateful even if he didn’t know what he was looking for. Could this have been what she was missing all this time? Someone who didn’t know the ins and outs of shifters? Maybe Guillermo and Talia both suffered from knowing too much instead of too little. Maybe this would give her more information.

“Okay,” she repeated. “Just, um. Look for anything that doesn’t seem… right, I guess? I don’t know, maybe your weird nightmare sense will help. Oh!” She paused, rubbing at the back of her neck. “If I do shift, I’ll be naked when I shift back. So, like, heads up. I’m not really shy or anything, ‘cause I’m naked a lot. But, you know, if that bothers you, I can strip down to my underwear so I can get dressed again after or something.”

—

“Might be a story for next time.” Mateo's smile turned wan. As much as a chismoso as he was, there was a line he didn't cross. Regardless of whether or not he mentioned names, discussing such dark, intimate secrets felt wrong. Yeah, he fucked with people and used those secrets to get a meal, but he didn't go blabbering about it. Whatever he found was between him and the victim. Unless of course that victim was a bitch. 

As he waited to see what Rory would do, what she said next was a surprise. Nudity wasn't something Mateo was against, but Rory was like a little sister at that point. Seeing her naked felt…wrong. Though he supposed if nothing happened, she could just change back, and if something did, she would have clothes to get back into. A brief moment of discomfort felt so small in comparison to the relief Mateo could give her. If he saw something of value, of course. 

“Not shy either.” The mare shrugged, “As long as you're comfortable, let's make sure you got clothes you can get back into. I'll turn around when you get your clothes back on.” That was more for Mateo than anything else. He didn't want to see his little sister naked too long. 

—

“Fine, another time,” Rory agreed reluctantly. Some part of her — the part that was a spoiled youngest child, mostly — wanted to push a little more, but she knew better. She might not have known Mateo long, but she knew that tone, the one that meant this conversation was a nonstarter. And she didn’t want to upset him. He was her friend. She didn’t have nearly enough of those to go around playing the self sabotage game.

She huffed a little laugh, nodding her head. She got the feeling Mateo didn’t want to see her naked any more than she wanted him to, which was fair enough. “Shy doesn’t really come with the territory for shifters, to be honest,” she replied, stripping down to her underwear. It’d rip when she shifted, but she didn’t mind going commando under her clothes.

“Okay,” she breathed, closing her eyes. She remembered what Guillermo taught her; she remembered the feelings that washed over her during the various surges. “Ready? Let’s see if I can manage this…” And, squeezing her eyes shut, Rory focused until the first snap shuddered through her body. She grinned. It was working! 

—

“You know what? Fair enough.” Mateo smirked awkwardly at Rory, trying his best to not look too uncomfortable. It made sense that she’d be comfortable with her body and the nudity of it all. He recalled the way Jacob started stripping in front of Charlie in Twilight, and it made him feel a little better knowing that some fictional stories got things a little bit right. Especially the familial discomfort.

What the mare hadn’t expected though, was the snap. The contortion of skin and muscle against the strain of a jutting bone. He’d fed on shifters before, but that kind of body horror didn’t matter to them. It was natural. How wrong was it that Mateo wanted to use that imagery for a meal? He licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to focus.

“Looking good so far.”

—

Mateo still looked a little uncomfortable, but that was probably to be expected. He wasn’t human, but he wasn’t a shifter, either, and that meant he probably had some human semblance of… shame felt like a strong word, but she wasn’t sure what the alternative might be. Modesty, maybe, but that, too felt like an odd term to apply to Mateo of all people. She figured it didn’t matter much, though. Being in your underwear wasn’t that much different than being in a bikini, and she really wanted to see if Mateo could tell her anything more about her shifting than anyone else had been able to.

Bones snapped, muscle contorted. It hurt, because it always hurt, but Rory was used to this kind of pain. In a way, she even welcomed it. This was the sort of thing she’d been chasing for a while now, the kind of thing that meant she was doing something right. She wanted more of it, wanted to hold onto it and let it carry her into the shift. 

“I’m trying — mmmm,” she grunted as another bone snapped, “to do a partial shift. But it’s not —” The rest of the sentence was lost, a garbled grunt that turned into a howl as the shift took hold. There was nothing partial about it, and the creature that burst from somewhere within Rory’s small frame was not a twenty-pound ocelot. Instead, the wolf hunched in on itself as the last bits of the shift shook its frame.

And when that was done, it turned its hungry eyes on Mateo.

—

For all the visual and auditory body horror that was taking place in front of the mare, nothing could’ve prepared him for the form that Rory took. There was nothing wrong with what he was seeing, at least not at first. She was smoothly changing (if you could call bones snapping smooth) and she was mostly in control of her voice. The partial shift was done…until it wasn’t.

Mateo’s face felt flat, a little annoyed that his friend didn’t know the difference between a cat and a werewolf, but he’d make fun of her later for that mistake. There was another problem, and it had everything to do with how famished Rory looked. “Ah…fuck.” Mateo muttered, frowning. 

“Come on, Rory, sit.” The mare demanded playfully, reaching into his vest’s pockets to grab a cluster of Black Cats and his lighter. Unfortunately, shifting his focus from Rory to the fuse was a mistake because he barely saw her giant ass paw swiping at him. “Hey!” Mateo whined, unable to fully dodge. Her claws ripped his shirt, breaking the skin over his abdomen. 

“Goddammit!” The pain was almost overwhelming, but not unmanageable. Globs of glitter trickled out of the wound, and he wasted no time lighting the firecrackers and tossing them at Rory just before they went off so he could have some sort of head start.

—

It was strange, the lack of heartbeat in the man’s chest. The wolf had never heard anything like it in this form, never seen a corpse that moved and walked and talked the way this one seemed to. Curiosity mixed with hunger; it wondered how this strange man would taste. It yearned to find out, longed to crush bones between its teeth to determine whether dead flesh that moved would taste the same as a fresh kill. Would it taste like rot on the wolf’s tongue? Would the organs housed in the gut be just as sweet? There was only one way to know for certain.

A massive paw swiped forward as the man moved, though the move was designed to incapacitate rather than kill. While some wolves preferred to kill their prey quickly in order to get to the meal, this wolf would much rather take its time. The best meals, it thought, were the ones where parts of the meat still writhed and screamed when you took the first bite. There was something far more entertaining about it, something sweeter.

The substance that exploded onto the wolf’s paws was not blood in the form that it was used to. It had never seen anything like it at all. It was distracted, momentarily, by the strangeness of it, the odd sensation of it slipping over its paw pads. The distraction proved ill-timed as it allowed the man a moment to throw something at the wolf. The creature jumped back as the items at its feet exploded, sending small sparks and loud sounds in every direction. The wolf howled in displeasure, bearing its teeth as it glanced around and found the man’s retreating form. Bounding after him, the wolf snarled.

It knew the feel of his blood. Soon, it would know the taste, too.

—

Okay, so this wasn’t great. Not terrible. Not good. So maybe…bad? Yeah, being chased by a hungry werewolf was bad. Leaking out glitter was bad too, but thankfully, that wouldn't kill Mateo. Well, it might if it spilled at a more accelerated rate. For example, being torn into and ripped apart. 

Mateo tried not to think about that, happy that he didn't need to breathe or keep a steady pace while he ran. The only thing hindering him at all was the developing ache in his calves and quads. To gauge his chances of survival, Mateo looked behind him and saw Rory easily catching up. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” His stride stuttered into a jumble of tiny steps to make a sharp turn, buildings becoming a maze. There was a method though. Having run from the cops several times, Mateo had built a map in his head. Rory wasn't exactly thinking straight, so he used that to his advantage, going down a dead end and waiting. The storage place was still blocks away, and he needed another head start. 

—

The man ran, and the wolf chased. There was something exhilarating about it, something exciting. His strange blood stained the ground, the scent of it caught in the air. The wolf inhaled a deep breath through its nose, its mouth watering at the scent. Would the man taste as strange as his blood looked? When the wolf ripped his head from his shoulders, would he scream? Would the head scream, still, even when it was detached from the body? 

The wolf did not often find questions like this, did not often think of them. Most things were obvious. When you ripped open a deer’s chest, the deer died; when you tore a human’s limb from their body, they screamed. But this was something different; this was something new. The man’s heart was silent in his chest, and his lungs did not heave from the chase. The man’s blood was unlike anything the wolf had ever seen. It had never thought itself a curious creature, though its human counterpart certainly was. Maybe this was how that curiosity revealed itself in this form: through the question of how something might die.

There was some disadvantage to the setting, of course. The wolf was not built for maneuvering down manmade alleys and avoiding buildings and bricks. The man must have understood that, was taking advantage of it. The wolf wasn’t particularly bothered by this, though. It preferred a chase to be interesting rather than boring, and this prey was certainly showing it a good time. He disappeared down another alley, and the wolf fell into a crouch as it pursued him. If the chase ended here, it would have been a good one. The taste of his blood on its tongue would be a hard fought thing; the wolf thought that would make it taste all the sweeter.

—

God, Mateo was confident in his skills, but looking down a dark pathway at a werewolf would terrify anyone. He took a few mental images for use later, but kept his focus as Rory crawled menacingly toward him. 

“Come on, man.” A snort escaped Mateo, the gravity of the situation making him default into laughter. It vaguely reminded Mateo of sleepovers with his cousins, in those late hours where they were supposed to be quiet. They never could stop themselves from bursting into laughter and getting into trouble. 

“Okay, let's get serious now.” Another snort was building in his throat. He could feel it. “You don't want to eat me, right?” Of course she did. Mateo could see it in those lupine eyes. “Right?” He pouted and made the pleading meme hands at her with a bark of laughter, making another disappearing act and reappearing far away behind Rory.  

“This way, girl!”

—

The wolf remained crouched low to the ground as it approached him, moving slowly and deliberately. He did not seem afraid, though this would not change the beast’s intentions. Fear made a thing taste sweeter, yes, but it didn’t need to marinate in it for long. The inevitable fear that would flow through the man just before death claimed him would taste just as good as any terror that might be born from the chase.

The bark he let out was an unfamiliar sound; the wolf had never heard laughter in this form, because when would it have? People did not tend to laugh when being pursued by a werewolf, and any memories of things experienced in its human form were distant, hazy things. (If they hadn’t been, it would not have been intent on swallowing this man’s heart down its hungry throat. Rory, had she had any control of the situation at all, would have been sick at the thought. But the wolf had done many things that would make Rory sick to know of. None of them mattered so long as she remained firmly in the dark.)

He spoke, the wolf’s prey, though his words made no sense to the beast. It leaned back on the balls of its feet, lip curling up into a snarl as it pounced all at once, landing on an empty spot where the man had been just seconds before. The wolf had not seen him move, but it heard his voice behind it now. It turned so quickly that it slammed into the wall, sending brick dust flying and cracking the wall. 

The chase would continue, it seemed. That was fine, too. The wolf bound forward, teeth at the ready. It did not want the man to escape again.

—

“Okay, okay, come on girl, I'm over here!” Mateo yelled, skittering around yet another corner. He could see the sign for the storage place just yards ahead, and he didn't wait to continue his escape. As he ran up to the fence, he disappeared for a blink, landing on the other side and bounding with purpose toward his unit. 

One more turn did it, and he saw the container with relief, but only briefly. There wasn't enough time to run up to it, unlock it, and open it. “Fuck,” Mateo hissed to himself. He just needed another diversion. Thinking quickly, he blipped himself over to the top of a set of units down from his, barking at Rory and blowing her a raspberry. 

When he had her attention, he grabbed onto the key in his pocket and hopped over to his unit, unlocking it quickly. The lock rattled against the metal, and the tinny roll of the door was too loud not to alert Rory to Mateo's position, but he was counting on that. He ran inside and waited, prepared to hop again and close Rory inside. 

—

The man ran, and the wolf chased. There was something fun about it, something exciting. He could not get away; few people ever really could, when the wolf was at its best. Perhaps he had a few more tricks up his sleeves than most, with the brief disappearances and reappearances, but there was nowhere for him to go. He weaved through strange buildings that the wolf paid little mind to, and it followed with drool foaming at its mouth. 

He disappeared again, reappearing a few feet away. The wolf, who had never encountered a thing like this, assumed his trick worked only to transport him a few feet away each time; even if Rory had been in full control, with all her wits about her, she didn’t know enough about mares to know that this was incorrect. She could use only what was right in front of her, and the wolf could do the same. It rushed the man, and he vanished once more. It looked around, sniffing at the air.

The noise meant found him quickly, though it did not understand that the time had been long enough for him to unlock a storage unit. It did not understand what this meant, did not understand the plan he was forming. It understood only the rumble in its stomach and the fact that this man would be enough to fill the empty space there. Without thought or consideration, the wolf rushed the man once more, jaws snapping at his extremities. 

—

Rory jumped the mare, and he stuttered in his attempt to disappear again. He didn't feel fear easily, but when the foam from the wolf's mouth sprayed onto his face and the teeth glimmered for an instant under the flood lights, Mateo shivered. Wide-eyed, he took a terrified step back, falling straight to his ass. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, throwing his feet up to kick Rory's chest. That millisecond gave him enough of an opening to jump again, but she still shredded his sides with her claws before she was pushed back. 

When Mateo reappeared, he was outside the unit, jumping up despite the pain firing. He grabbed the lip of the door mid-leap and slammed it closed, sighing with relief that the hard part was over. Rory got Mateo good, but he would be fine. No bleeding out for him, thankfully. Which meant he could sink into the ground and rest while he waited for Rory to shift back, comforted by the fact that she won't hurt anyone without her wanting. 

—

Claws found purchase in the man’s side, but before teeth could follow, his feet kicked against the wolf’s chest. It wasn’t a particularly painful connection, but it succeeded in knocking the wolf away before it could sink its teeth in properly. It got back up quickly, but not quickly enough to get to the man before he pulled another disappearing act. The wolf’s teeth snapped at the empty air where the man’s throat had been mere seconds before, and the growl that escaped through its clenched teeth could only be described as one of frustration. 

Worse than the man’s escape was what happened after. The door to the storage unit slammed shut, leaving the wolf alone in the enclosed space. Fury rushed through the beast, and it slammed its full weight against the metal door of the unit in protest. When that didn’t prove effective, it began slamming against the walls instead, knocking items around as it clawed and thrashed and howled in protest.

—

Glitter covered Mateo’s clothes and he grumbled to himself as the thrashing behind him made him jolt forward several times. “Yeah, yeah. Throw your bitch fit. You'll thank me later.” 

Rory probably couldn't hear or understand him, but Mateo didn't care. He was mostly talking for himself, trying to distract from the pain. It wasn't often that anything could touch him, and the loss of his ego was starting to weigh on him more than he expected. 

“Fuck.” He raised a glitter coated hand, trembling. A much harsher attack to the door hit his back and pushed him forward, but he caught himself and repositioned to lay down on the ground. Rory had to exhaust herself eventually. In the meantime, Mateo took out his phone and dialed Xóchitl, asking her to ignore the sounds and just talk about her day so he could calm down enough to rest. He'd explain later, as he always did. 

—

The wolf pounded desperately against the walls of the space containing it, howls cutting through between thuds as it slammed against the walls. It had been trapped so few times in its life, and never in such a way that found it utterly unable to escape. But it didn’t matter how hard it fought; the storage unit was secure, and the wolf could not free itself from between the walls. 

After some time, the pounding and the howling died down. The wolf paced the ruined interior of the storage unit, looking for weaknesses and finding none. Eventually, the wolf settled, curling into a ball of fur and fury on the cold floor, ears flat against its head. It would not admit ‘defeat’ — it was too proud a creature for that — but it would accept that, for now, its efforts were meaningless.