#shifter!au

He comes back ten minutes later.

In a clean shirt, a bit of damp hair, and lines of tension carved deep into his face, but his eyes meet yours this time.

He stops in the doorway.

“Alright,” he says. “We aren’t—” His jaw flexes. “Shift back.”

You do, as slowly as you can manage. You sit on the edge of the bed, your knees pulled in, arms crossed over your chest. Still wearing the borrowed clothes. Still barefoot.

Simon exhales hard. His fingers twitch, then clench.

“Okay,” he says, again. "Just… I—fuck, what do I even say to you?”

You tilt your head a little.

“I have a job,” you say simply. “Keeping you safe. And I intend to do that job. How we go about it… well, you get a lot of say.”

His mouth pulls tight, but he nods slowly.

His eyes flick to the hall where the bowls sit, your food and water, tucked against the wall near the kitchen entryway.

“I don’t want you eating out of those anymore,” he says, gruff. “You can eat at the table. Fuck, I’ve been feeding you that shit for weeks.”

You smile, small and soft. “Simon. It’s alright. Really. I’m half a dog. I… I prefer it sometimes.”

That gets him. His shoulders hitch with a strange breath, half bitter laugh. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“We've got some work todo,” he mutters.

You shrug, gentle. “That’s alright. I glad you're willing.”

He looks at you again, longer this time.

“Eat dinner with me tonight,” he says. “At the table. And we’ll… talk about this.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He makes pasta.

It’s boxed, with jarred sauce and the cooked leftover meat from the freezer, but it smells good. He cooks quietly, like he needs something to do with his hands.

You sit at the little kitchen table.

You sit a the kitchen table, folded hands in your lap, back straight, posture calm but clearly waiting. Not anxious. Not hopeful. Just here.

Simon sets your bowl down with a small clink.

He doesn’t sit immediately. Wipes his hands on a dish towel, busies himself with decluttering the cooking mess, before finally pulling out the chair across from you.

It creaks under him.

You eat in silence for the first few minutes. Glancing up occasionally, tail swaying softly behind you when you do.

He clears his throat.

“I... This...” His voice dies halfway through. He tries again. "You can stay."

You look up, just a little startled, but open.

Simon doesn’t quite meet your gaze. “I want you to warn me when you shift. From now on.”

“Of course,” you say immediately. “And I'm sorry, about before... about not—"

He raises his hand, stopping you quietly. “And I don’t want you sleeping on the floor anymore.”

You hesitate. “I don’t mind—”

“I do,” he cuts in. “I got you that dog bed thinking you were a dog. It’s fine for that. But human body or not, I don’t want to see you curled up on hardwood like a fucking stray. Couch at minimum when you're human.”

You smile. “And if I’m in my dog form?”

“That’s your call,” he says. “Dog bed, couch, my bed, just... you don't have to be on the floor.”

"You're bed?"

He shrugs, taking another bite. "You've seen me naked, don't see why not."

You can't help the heat that flushes to your cheeks. He's changed clothes in front of you as a dog, that's different. It's casual. It's like—

"Does it bother you?"

He shakes his head.

For a moment, that's where it stays. You tuck away this gentle piece of himself that he's revealed.

He watches the overcooked pasta as it turns on his fork, thinking, before, “I want you to be comfortable,” he mutters. “Even if this is all… weird.”

Your tail sways, you can't help it.

“I am comfortable,” you say. “I’ve done this before. Just… not like this.”

Simon glances up, then frowns. “Like what?”

You hold his gaze now. “Most of the time, my foster handlers didn't want to see the person. It was for training, of course, so I stay the dog.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, “That’s fucked.”

You smile again. “It’s the job.”

He shifts in his seat, jaw working. “I don’t want to be one of those people.”

“You’re not.”

“I mean it.” He leans back, eyes flicking up to yours with something close to shame. “If you’re going to stay—and I’m not saying I deserve you to or that this is going to work or whatever—but if you are, then we need boundaries. Not just for me. For you too.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“No shifting without warning,” he says again. “Ask if you need something. Eat at the table. Cook if you want, but don’t wait on me. And don’t…” He falters.

You wait, taking another small bite.

“Don’t ask questions,” he says finally. “Don’t try to shrink me. Don’t pick at the scabs. I know what they are. I just—I don’t want anyone digging.”

“I understand,” you say softly. “I’m not here to fix anything, Simon. I’m here to keep you safe.”

He exhales. “Right.”

“I mean that,” you add quietly. “I’m not a therapist. I’m not your friend, unless you want me to be. I’m here to ground you when it gets bad. To help you sleep. To notice when your hands shake. That’s my job. That’s all.”

Simon watches you.

Then, slowly, he nods.

“Eat dinner with me at night,” he says.

You blink. “That a boundary?”

“No,” he says, glancing down at his plate, then back at you. “That’s a request.”

You smile. “Okay. Dinners. Not always pasta though, right?”

He huffs a laughs. "No promises."

Inheriting a lake cabin with a working farm from a great aunt you’ve never even heard about was surprisingly not on your bucket list.

But lo and behold! It’s happened!! And it’s came with 4, oddly human, monstrous sized bunnies that give you the creeps lowkey. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone.

The first one and second largest rabbit seemed to be the leader. With dark brown/silver fur and pretty blue eyes. Where he went, so did the others. You could have sworn you smelt cigars whenever he’d hop on over, especially when he’d sit by you as you bathed, but there’s just no way.

The largest of the buns, was a blonde smokey colored rabbit whose face fur made it seem like he had on a black skull mark around his brown eyes! When this one graced you with his presence, it was always brief. You’d find it watching you at random times, and it always felt like vulture watching its prey.

The last two bunnies were around the same size but vastly different in personalities. One had beautiful chocolate fur and matching eyes! He was so sweet and warmed up to you a little faster than the other. He loved to sit by you on the porch during your morning coffee and follows you around as you explore the area.

The other one also had dark soft fur and blue eyes that, honestly felt a little creepy on a bunny. He warmed up to you the fastest, and seemed the most human like with his.. antics. Enjoys following you around and refuses to sleep anywhere but your bed.

Google said bunnies are shy and he definitely did not fit the mold. One time you had caught this particular bun with a pair of your undies in mouth, and you had to chase him down until bunny #2 tripped him up!

He comes to them in his animal form - a black, rugged little stray cat with piercing blue eyes and patches of scarred skin lingering among his already unruly fur. As always, he stays silent ; making them jump when someone points out that a peculiar feline is following them at a distance, never letting them out of its sight.

They immediately start cooing at him, lowering their voice as if to not startle him. They stay where they are, calling him with a hand outstreched towards his form. Despite his usual wary self, he immediately grasps the opportunity between his paws, giving their fingers the tiniest sniff before timidly snuggling against them.

Still, it takes him quite some time before he manages to not instinctively shy or jump away from their touch. Yet they never seem to get tired of him - smiling and slow blinking at him as he lays on what quickly became his special chair and blanket in their office, sometimes talking to him quietly, allowing him a glimpse of their thoughts.

They respect his space, which he is constantly grateful for. They ask for his permission before petting him, slowly coming to hold a hand in front of his nose, and never getting upset when he doesn’t feel like cuddling. They apologize whenever they accidentally spook him, and try to calm him down with a few peaceful words and coos. They try to contain their excitement whenever he allows them to pet or kiss him, yet he can feel it radiating from them.

He become the source of their joy more and more, and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

However, he isn’t really fond of their colleagues. Some of them try to force their need for feline cuddles on him despite Reader’s warnings. They make a show of lightly scolding him when he scratches, bites or hisses at the idiots, but never fail to smile and reassure him when he grumbles about it after the unwanted attention-seeker leaves.

« They never learn the lesson, do they ? » They say. « I’m sorry, Baby. » Nikto wishes he could tell them they are not the one who needs to apologize, especially not when they are so good to him.

He also likes that name. Baby. But don’t tell anyone.

One man, though, is worse than the others. He never comes to try and pet him, and Nikto doesn’t care about the way he looks at him, as if he were the scourge of the Earth - he is used to the negativity dancing in the eyes of others on his path, even more in his human form. But the man flirts shamelessely with his human, and he loathes it. He can feel Reader’s discomfort the second that arrogant bastard’s footsteps echo down the hall, and sees the exasperated sigh that crosses their lips just before he automatically makes his way through the door as if he owns the whole place. Nikto makes his point by glaring at him until the idiot gets uncomfortable enough to leave, and hisses when he breezes past his chair on his way out. He relishes in the satisfied smile they give him, the kisses they blow his way as a relieved thank you.

Then comes the day he has to go on a mission again. He doesn’t know how long he will be gone, if he’ll even be able to see them again. His shoulders are heavy as he boards the plane, glancing one last time at the door beyond the tarmac wondering if, somewhere in the building, the one that holds his heart will be waiting for his return.

And said heart leaps with delight when he finally steps on the base’s grounds again ; battered and bruised, exhausted and sore, but alive. He doesn’t waste a second to let his little paws follow the lines of the corridors leading to his Reader’s office. The arrogant flirt is there when he arrives, and Nitko is more than happy to tear their attention away from him the second he walks through their door. He rubs his entire side against their legs, his face against their fingers. He preens as the idiot bites back a snarl and almost runs out of the room ; his love doesn’t even notice, to busy running their hands through his fur as they ask him where he’s been.

« I’ve been thinking, » they say, sounding like they are about to make him the most outrageous of confessions, « would you like to come home with me ? »

Nikto is too focused on trying to quell the erratic beating of his heart to register their nervous babbling about how they asked around and learned he was a stray hanging around the base, and how they have been thinking about it for months. He cuts them off with his first meow in what feels like an eternity. It’s rough, and almost sounds nothing more like a disgusting gurgle in his ears ; but their eyes lit up with happiness, their excitement wafting off of them in unrestrained waves as they pick him up. And he lets them, his claws digging into their shirt as if they were going to vanish right before his eyes.

His new reality settles in as they put him down on the floor of their apartment. The scents are the first thing that hits him. It smells like them, feels like them. The cushions on their sofa are the softest against his rugged pawpads, but so are their carpets and their bed. They let him explore every single corner of their home - his home, they insist on saying, and Nikto’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage.

He now spends his days lounging in their office, learning to indulge in his teasing side more as he rolls around on their desk, and his nights in whatever free space of their apartment he feels like invading. He learns to meow more, his voice sounding the tiniest bit clearer every time, and to purr too. The rumbles are awkward and raspy, but he happily lets them out as Reader combs through his erratic fur.

He sighs dreamily whenever they turn their back, wishing he could give them everything they offer him back tenfold. So he takes it upon himself to « groom » them whenever they try to detangle his fur, showering them with his own kind of kisses and silent love. He fights his aversion for touch to cuddle more, savoring the smiles it brings out on their face. He goes to sleep next to their pillow, and wakes up sprawled on top of their chest, listening to their quiet heartbeat.

There’s this one time when they tell him how much he reminds them of a certain masked soldier they crossed paths with a few times back at the base. They gush about the piercing blue of the man’s eyes, so similar to his ; his confident strides, the nods of greeting he took the time to offer them, his silent, brooding and soothing presence in the elevator. They recall the time the soldier shielded them from a pushy idiot, telling him off with the silent sharpness of a stone and the coldness of ice. Nikto doesn’t need to be told the details of this story ; he remembers well the blush coating their cheeks as he escorted them back to their office, wary of the glint that danced in the flirty soldier’s eyes. A blush so similar to the one they carry as they gush about that « imposing gentleman of a stranger » - and probably to the one warming up his own face under his fur.

A part of him is terrified at the idea that they might end up catching on the situation - that the cat they adopted, that they worry about for months when he disappears, is actually that man they would love to know more leaving on deadly missions. He considered multiple times faking his death once more to finally be able to stay with them for good, protect them too. But the thought of being rejected, thrown out for being a disgusting creep, tears his heart apart.

Yet another side of him starts purring the second he thinks about how he could finally be accepted for who he is. A feline shifter, yes, but also a broken man, yearning for love behind the many walls and barriers he hides behind in order to protect himself.

They don’t know the truth, obviously. He’s been very careful about everything, though he can’t do anything about the deployments.

But for the first time in forever, Nikto hopes.

And for the first time in forever, he might be surprised by how sharp his dear Reader can be…