Warm fuzzies
AN: My brain is infected by werewolves in love. My sincerest apologies to anyone who isn't submerged in World of Darkness lore. I also wanted to pay homage to the old WoD Litany with regards to werewolves not being allowed to bone one another. Characters: Patrick Hodge, Elton Dey, Ashley Nin, Melodie Palys Warnings: Mention of suicide, Spoilers: None
First, itâs important to keep in mind that Patrick Hodge doesnât care about the LitanyâŚmuch. The old werewolf laws are just that; old and laws, neither of which are exactly his forte. Heâs respectful of the spirits of the Wyld, wherever he finds them, because thatâs just common fucking sense, and he keeps his werewolf shit secret because he doesnât want to get silver bulleted by some harebrained hunter with a god complex but, outside of that, he leaves the Litany to the philodoxes and minds his business. So, imagine his surprise when, at the first lurching of his heart, when you reached across his body to grabâŚsomething - he doesnât fucking know - and he caught a whiff of your apple scented shampoo and just melted, his mind went straight to the old rules.
It had been years since heâd really thought about his initialâŚeducation? Initiation? Crash course? Whatever, it had been years since heâd taken the time to remember that first conversation with Graynail, when he was just a snotfaced, rich problem child who had been headhunted by the Broad Brook Caern. He remembered the old wolfâs face, all deep lines and stormy eyes, serious as a heart attack as he talked Podge through everything from tribe selection to pack etiquette to who has the right to speak at a moot and, of course, the golden rule:
No werewolf on werewolf action.
Okay, so maybe it wasnât quite the golden rule. It wasnât even technically part of the Litany anymore, more of a general guideline for members of Broad Brook, but it had been the one that made the biggest impression on the teenage boy - hopped up on rage and puberty as he was. Heâd thought that was funny. Werewolves are real, heâd thought to himself, vampires and witches and ghosts are real. Gaia is being destroyed by malignant forces of eternal destruction and he was supposed to fix it with his anger management issues, and there was a rule that was like a real world counterpart to that viral YouTube video about a world where straight people are the minority. Would a straight werewolf technically count as a diversity hire?
Haha. Funny werewolves and their funny rules. He had bigger things to worry about than women, he had a world to save.
Less funny now. Less funny when heâd spent the last several years in a kind of self imposed isolation (first because he was fed up with how the Silver Fangs treated Bone Gnawers and then, later, because his whole pack was dead) and, consequently, could barely remember the last time someone had touched him gently. Less funny when you were throwing him a shirt and helping him fix the buttons and your sheer proximity made his skin tingle and his knees get so weak that heâd nearly fallen into your arms. Less funny when you were pulling on your clothes after shifting back into human form, still half covered in monster blood, and he couldnât stop looking at the way the moonlight caressed the curve of your thighs.
No, it turns out that twenty year-old Patrick Hodge found the whole deal a whole lot less humorous than his dumbass teen self had.
He watched you as you worked, ignoring the prickly, uncomfortable aching in his chest as his wolf howled to be let out. You hated this stupid little coffee shop but it helped you make enough money for the pack to get by and your boss gave them yesterdayâs pastries for free, so you stuck it out. The fluorescent lights wouldâve been unflattering on anyone else but, as Podge was quickly learning, you were the exception. Your hair shone, your smile was radiant and warm. You looked like any other student working a part time job in a shitty town, but you were so much more than that. He could almost see the wolf beneath your skin, all tawny fur and bright yellow eyes, faster than the wind with senses no one in the pack could hope to match. You were a creature of power and rage and no one in this dingy little fucking place even knew it. It was a tragedy.
Ug, look at him, getting all poetic and patriotic over a girl. He was so fucked.
Nin elbowed him in the ribs, âYouâre staring again, Podge.â
âAm not,â he replied, wincing but not looking away.
âYou are, and itâs getting pathetic,â Melodie chimed in, twisting a thick lock of her auburn hair around her finger as she scanned the cafe for threats.
He fought back the urge to snarl, tearing his eyes away and focussing them on Melodie, âOkay Mrs Harvest King, considering that, without me, you would be food for an evil spirit by now, Iâd be careful who you call pathetic.â
Melodieâs rage flared and she leaned forward but, before she could snap at him, Elton intervened.
âThatâs enough of that, I think,â he said, always the voice of reason, âif you two act up, Pembe might fire Y/N and then weâd all be screwed. She and I are the only two members of this pack with steady employment, if youâll recall.â
Podge and Melodie protested half-heartedly, unwilling to give Elton the impression that he was winning the argument but also unable to counter his logic. Nin chuckled, enjoying the show. Podge leaned back in his seat and tried to not be conspicuous.
âSeriously though,â Melodie eventually said, her tone more even as she looked at Podge with clear sincerity, âyou know you can never go there, right?â
âWhy? Because of the Litany?â he countered with his usual mocking tone, always more comfortable letting Melodie think he was an idiot who didnât care rather than risking being truthful with her, âSome old men from a billion years ago said I canât fuck my roommate?â
Melodie rolled her eyes. Elton sighed as though just being near Podge was draining him. Even Nin shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
âYou know thatâs not it,â Melodie said, âthere are reasons why Garou donât get involved with other Garou.â
âKathrine and Elton got involved,â he reminded her, idly wondering why he was pushing this at all considering he kind of agreed with her.
The truth was, he understood and had always abided by the rule, even when others had decided that the risk was worth the reward. His logic was as follows; Patrick Hodge was an ahroun - a warrior amongst a race of warriors - his rage was always closer to the surface than it was with others of his kind. While theurges and philodoxes and galliards could probably get all emotionally wound up in one another without tooooo much issue, the risk was just higher with him. It had always been higher. It would always be higher, so heâd turned his gaze from his fellow wolves and focussed on the human world, for all the good that did.
Still, he watched you wiping down a counter with your hair brushing the back of your neck and he wanted. All he seemed to do these days was want you and want you and try to stop wanting you and end up wanting you more. He had kind of hoped that living together might quash his ridiculous little crush but that hadnât worked. The more he saw of you, the more time he spent by your side, the more he wanted. What was worse is that he was fairly sure you felt the same. A silly little unrequited fondness he could handle but when your eyes lingered on his chest for just a second too long, or when you went out of your way to make sure he was alright after a fightâŚ.well, werewolves arenât exactly known for their patience and restraint.
âKatherine and I are - were - both theurges,â Elton chimed in.
âYou and the cub are both ahrouns,â Melodie continued, âdo I really need to tell you what a colossally bad idea it would be for two hot headed murder machines who live together to throw sex into the mix?â
No, she didnât.
âYeah, maybe I do,â he prodded, sitting forward in his chair again and locking eyes with Melodie, âplease, oh great and wise Silver Fang, educate this poor ignorant Bone Gnawer on the error of his lustful ways.â
Melodie pursed her lips. Nin let out a burst of laughter and even Elton had to hide a snort. The room started to close in on them. Podge could feel his beastâs claws scraping against his ribs, the rage simmering just beneath the surface just itching for an excuse to come out. Melodie could feel it too. She could sense the bait and, judging by the battle in her eyes, was fighting hard to not rise to it. But, she was a philodox and he had just asked her to explain a rule to him. What was a Garou to do?
âWell, first off, you would destroy that little cabin you two stay in.â she started.
He shrugged, âItâs a piece of shit anyway.â
âSecond, sheâs a cub so Iâm pretty sure that would make you some sort of predator. She doesnât even have a tribe yet. You might influence her and stifle her spiritual growth.â
âSheâs five months younger than me,â Podge countered, rolling his eyes, âand sheâs been talking to North Wind and Stag already. No chance of me poaching her over to Rat.
Elton frowned, âNorth Wind and Stag? Strange pairing. I would have thought sheâd go with Gorgon as her back up.â
âYeah, well, sheâs full of surprises,â he said, cringing at how obviously proud and fond he sounded.
Melodie crossed her arms and leaned back, triumphantly, âPlus you might accidentally kill her.â
Ah.
âOr, she might accidentally kill you,â Melodie allowed, âthe point being, with so much rage in one house, the two of you are already one bad day away from double homicide.â
Podge picked at his napkin, hating the sickly feeling her words brought up in him, âWe donât fight.â
âNow.â she corrected, sensing victory, âBecause youâre roommates. Roommates donât fight. Couples fight. Couples who are hopped up on rage and battle adrenaline fight hard, and often. Can you say with absolute certainty you wouldnât end up ripping one another apart?â
He gave her a annoyed look, âFuck you, Silver Fang.â
âSo, no,â she replied correctly.
âSo whatâs your solution then?â he pressed, unwilling to back down, his wolf urging him to bite back harder, âWe just inflict ourselves on regular people who have no chance of fighting back when we do lose our shit?â
Something shifted in Melodieâs eyes, subtle but unmistakable. Was that grief?
She sniffed, tightening her arms over her chest and forcing an air of nonchalance, âThe only honorable thing we can do is remove ourselves from the equation entirely.â
âSuicide?â Elton asked incredulously.
Melodie shot him a disgusted look, âThe romance equation, Elton, obviously.â
Nin shrugged, âI kind of thought you meant suicide as well.â
âThank you, Nin,â Elton replied, vindicated.
The tension loosened its hold. The wolf simmered down as Podge felt a rush of something uncomfortable, like pity, flood through him. Melodie was steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him, focussing on the passing humans instead, but he could see the tension in her. So thatâs what Melodie believed. He thought of her alone in the earthen barrows, tending the bones of her dead family, removing herself from the equation. It wasnât quite an admission of anything, but it showed the Silver Fang in a new, clearer light and he had to admit, he felt a little bad for her.
âI guess we know why youâre so damn uptight now,â Podge finally said, injecting lightness into his tone, âyou need to get laid.â
She didnât smile, but it was a close thing, âFuck you, Bone Gnawer.â
Just then, you appeared at the table, stopping by to collect empty plates and mugs and steal a few moments of conversation. Embarrassingly, Podge felt his heart leap into his throat and he straightened up in his seat like an excited dog. You noticed, which would have been mortifying if it didnât make you smile fondly at him. Podge flushed with warmth. He would endure almost any embarrassment for that smile.
âYou guys playing nice?â she asked, âThe customers got a little antsy there for a second.â
âJust a friendly debate,â Melodie assured, âthe value of the Litany, our relationship to the mortal world, you know how it is.â
You groaned, rolling your eyes sympathetically, âDonât get me started, my dayâs been shit enough already. Are you guys heading out?â
You transferred the big black tray you were carrying to your hip and rested your hand on Podgeâs shoulder absentmindedly. It was nothing, a casual gesture of comfort. If you had been standing next to Nin or Elton you probably would have done the same. Still, he practically vibrated with pleasure. Fuck, he needed to spend time with people more. He didnât used to be like this.
His packmates clocked the change in his energy with varying levels of disapproval, but you seemed oblivious.
âIn a moment,â Elton replied, âwe were just finishing up a chat.â
You nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze as you made to move away, âWell, Iâll see you for dinner this weekend, yeah?â
The others made various sounds of agreement and he felt you relax as you headed back to work. Weak to his own impulses, Podge followed you with his eyes, his skin still tingling.
Melodie cleared her throat.
âSeriously, Podge, be careful.â
âI think they should go for it,â Nin replied.
Podge tried not to look too surprised. He didnât usually have much support from within the pack other than you. It was a nice change. Melodie and Elton gave the younger woman incredulous looks.
âSeriously, Nin?â Melodie asked, âWhat reason could you possibly have for supporting this?â
Nin shrugged, sipping the dregs of her ice coffee, âSeems like the simplest answer. All your worries are more about the risk of emotional entanglements than physical entanglements and, if weâre honest, theyâre already pretty entangled.â
âWha-â
âNo weâ-â
âNin-â
Nin turned to Podge, interrupting, âY/Nâs coworker is hitting on her. Heâs asked her to dinner this weekend and sheâs laughing and leaning into his chest and heâs threading his fingers through her hair so that he can kiss her ne-â
âStop it,â Podge snarled, feeling a lick of rage so hot and visceral that the people at the next table got up to leave.
His packmates all felt the spike, their own wolves flaring up in a desire to join him in his anger. Nin smiled triumphantly.
âSee? Forcing them to keep their clothes on wonât stop either of them from lashing out if they donât keep themselves in check. We just have to trust that they know themselves and their limits better than we do.â
It was a good point. Nin was actively being supportive of him and yet it took all of Podgeâs remaining self control to keep from lashing out. This was the problem with werewolves. No matter how good they tried to be, the monster was always right there, ready to be unleashed at a momentâs notice.
He thought about the night heâd met you.
The flames radiating off the Sullivan house. His blood thrumming with the promise of violence, his senses sharpened by the wolf as he runs through the plan in his head. Lots of moving pieces. Lots of potential for disaster. Podge must ensure Sullivan pays for the damage he has done to the earth. No chance for redemption. Sullivan must die.
New smells. Enemies? Conspirators? No, old cigarettes and paper - friend! - Elton-of-Broad-Brook smell. Someone else - Garou. Unknown. Green apples and fresh dirt. Copper-iron-metal of blood. Pastries and coffee - perfectly brewed. Home.
Something stirs in the pit of his stomach, tingling like the electric buzz of wire. He throws himself into the Sullivan house without a second thought. Elton-Shadow Lord slips around the house. New Garou - female, follows behind Podge. Cannot allow distractions.
He rips into Sullivanâs guards, feeling the rush of savage pleasure that always came with a fight. This is what he was born to do. This is the job his selfish hands were built to accomplish. Let some other wolf be responsible for saving Gaia. He would slay her enemies and be content.
Movement to his left. The new Garou - apples-coffee-blood-dirt. He can smell her joy. No fear. No hesitation. She joins him in the slaughter and he wants to howl his appreciation and they are alive. Perfect synchronicity. She hasnât transformed fully, but she moves like lightning. A guard shoots at his exposed ribs. Brace for pain. Warm arm around his waist. Apples-coffee-blood-dirt. She moves him. He lets her.
The first sound he hears her make is a gasp of pain as the bullet pierces her shoulder in Podgeâs place.
He sighed, the anger leaching out of him in a rush. He could feel his packmates staring, he could feel their discomfort and concern. Podge wasnât normally the most emotionally expressive member of their little pack and, indeed, he was only being as open as he was now out of desperation. Even he could recognize that he was in over his head, unsure which of his waring impulses was the coward and which was his true desires.
Elton leaned in, his brow furrowed with concern, âCome on, bro. Just tell us whatâs nagging at you.â
âHow do I know if the way-â he sighed, wiping his hand over his face with frustration as the words slipped away, âfuck-man. I donât want to rip her fucking face off, alright? But Ninâs not wrong, Iâm in too fucking deep now to just ignore it. And Ninâs all âoh, trust that you know your limitsâ, but what if I donât? Iâve never been with another Garou, I donât know.â
âDo you feel angrier when youâre together?â Elton asked simply.
Podge shot him an incredulous look, âNo. Obviously not, sheâs the best.â
âWell, there you go.â
âBut youâve seen how we are when we fight together,â Podge countered, âitâs carnage.â
âSo you share a hobby,â Elton replied, âThere are worse things than being a good team, you know?â
Something hopeful fluttered in the pit of his stomach and he looked over to you thoughtfully. You were working at the register now, taking customerâs orders with a polite smile. He let himself imagine what it might be like if he could just walk up and kiss your cheek.
âPlus, youâve already asked her out,â Nin chimed in.
Ah, fuck.
Melodieâs mouth opened, âYou did what?â
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