#the-tenth10

It was cold. There was no room for error, but no time to think it through. They were watching her, she knew it. All she could do was run, her body parallel to the floor as he she ran on all fours, paws in the place of her hands and feet, and claws instead of fingers and toes. Sandy-coloured fur ran up from the paws to her elbows and knees. A bushy tail streamed behind her, and her eyes easily saw through the darkness surrounding her. Her breath came in pants from between the sharp, pointed teeth in her mouth, blonde hair occasionally getting in her eyes before she tossed her head to get it out of the way.

Tony had been acting strange lately. The genius radiated nervous energy every time he and Bruce were alone. They had been together for almost a year (exactly in a week), so Bruce knew that Tony was planning something. What that something was, Bruce had no clue. An experiment of some kind? No, it couldn't be; Tony would usually crack and tell him all about it within days if it was. No, this was something else entirely. Whilst they still slept in the same bed (Tony's. Bruce remembered that argument clearly - Tony had sulked and yelled and stomped until Bruce had agreed to move into his room, which they had proceeded to have make-up sex in), Tony was even restless than normal, fidgetting and taking ages to settle down. Occassionally, Bruce would catch Tony just looking at him, one side of his mouth quirked up in the fond, crooked smile that Tony loved because it was so real and just pure Tony.

By the time another few weeks passed, Bruce was nervous. The odd behaviour had continued, and every time he tried to contront his partner on it, he would just dismiss him with a 'I'm fine, just a little tired' and a wave, then kiss him until he couldn't remember what he had been asking.

This was another one of those days, and Bruce was determined to get this sorted out. Apparently, that wasn't needed. As soon as Bruce stepped foot inside the kitchen, Tony stood from his seat, looking more nervous than Bruce had ever seen him, and strode over to him. Just as Bruce opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, Tony grabbed his left hand and sank down on one knee, producing a box from his pocket, steady brown eyes locked on his, and Bruce suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe. Was he? No. Surely not?

"Bruce Banner," Tony started, voice steady despite his sweaty palm, "we've been together for nearly a year. You've put up with me through the thick and the thin, and you've never once tried to leave. I know people think that I am not capable of a stable relationship, but you're different. We fit. I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

((Werelock))

John (18) sat, trembling slightly, on the huge king-sized bed in the posh room, head down and looking towards the floor. Worry and self-consciousness swept over him as he waited. He was only wearing boxers and long pants, his chest bare and littered with scars both fresh and old. Around his neck was a black, silver-studded collar. His blonde hair was freshly washed, but under his nails was dirt and there were smudges on his feet from where he had tried to run earlier. He had known that he wouldn’t succeed – he never did. Finally, after months of trying to escape, his father was handing him over to be mated to another werewolf from a different pack. John kept his head hung low, trying to keep the fear at bay. His father was cruel and controlling – hence all his scars and the collar – and his mother, though she fretted over him, did nothing to stop him. His collar had a remote to go with it – that John knew his father had in his pocket, and would probably be handing it over to his future mate about now – that sent electrical shocks through John’s body to ‘keep him in line’. John feared his father, but he didn’t know what his future mate was like, so he wasn’t sure whether he should be scared of him, too. This morning, his father had sneeringly told him that he had been requested as a mate by the youngest of the Holmes’ Alpha’s sons and then John had been shoved into a car with all his things, and a day-long trip had commenced. John was starving, but he didn’t dare move to try and find something to eat. His ribs were showing as he trembled, and he closed his eyes briefly as he heard soft footsteps – presumably that of his mate’s – padding up the stairs to the bedroom where he mated. He had to admit that his mate’s room smelt delicious, and he drew courage from the smell as he listened to the footsteps coming closer.

Bruce wasn't comfortable with much physical contact - especially when it came to Tony. He knew that Tony had noticed, but thankfully the genius didn't say anything. Bruce sincerly appreciated the effort Tony put in to make sure that Bruce was comfortable (both physically and mentally). When Bruce would flinch and retreat slightly, Tony would instantly back off - no matter what they were doing. Not that he didn't like touching Tony - in fact, he immensely enjoyed the few brushes and bumping in to's that he had experienced with Tony - but he didn't want to hurt Tony. He just didn't want to take that chance. He had hurt others in that past, and he didn't want to repeat that with someone that he really cared about. Tony was different. Bruce really, really,reallyliked Tony. Bruce was grateful for Tony's patience - he knew that was something that Tony generally lacked in - and made sure to express it often (even if it wasn't in words).

But, today, Bruce had decided to man up. He had to get over this. He wanted to be with Tony. He knew that. Tony knew that. The only thing stopping him was himself. He had his self control. He knew how far he could push it, and when he needed to step back and allow himself to calm down before he literally exploded into a mass of green. Tony was yabbering on about something - something about ice-creams - but Bruce wasn't really listening. They had gone out for lunch and were sitting in a nice restaurant. This wasn't typically the kind of place Bruce would visit, but he supposed it wasn't nearly as high-class and crowded as the places Tony usually attended. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Bruce reached across the small table, and grasped Tony's hand. It was warm. Worn and slightly rough, but nice. Tony stopped mid-sentence and stared at Bruce in surprise, blinking rapidly as he visibly tried to process the shock at this new development, but it only lasted a second before he smiled softly and squeezed Bruce's hand and continued on his rant.