#thread:chris

Chris twisted his fingers enough to where he could feel Zane’s skin. He was cold. A flurry of panic started before he could remember all the weird stuff that happened before — the red eyes, the teeth, that whole alleyway stand-off all those months ago. That math, although it worked in the fictional sense, didn’t add up to him. He wouldn’t let it. That would mean that everything else was real and Chris didn’t want that. 

He leaned forward to take a firmer hold of Zane’s own wrist; worry became his driving force, overriding everything else. The pain would be there whether he moved or not, so he ignored it in favor of a better view of the other man’s face. There was no breath nor life to be found. “Zane?” Came Chris’ hoarse, panicked whisper. A moment of exhaustion elicited a weak sigh from him, but he gave Zane’s forearm a gentle shake with the hope that he wasn’t dead. Something told him he already knew the answer, but that didn’t stop him from thinking the worst.

—

Sometimes, there was an upside to a dreamless sleep, if sleep was even an apt word for it. Zane no longer really needed sleep but it was a good way to pass the time since being conscious for 24 hours a day, every day, was exhausting. It was a clear blessing now that no dreams haunted him in his current state of not being - they would have been filled with visions of blood and pale skin and feral eyes which could have belonged to either one of them. Because there had been two of them, hadn’t there? Yes, someone other than him, someone whose skin was warm against his cold palm, pulse thrumming faintly. A soft voice speaking his name, breaking through the haze of unconsciousness. 

Along with the groggy relief that flooded him at the sound of Chris’s voice came the pain. There was no fear or adrenaline keeping it at bay now, letting the tearing and burning sensation run rampant. Zane’s grip tightened on the wrist it held for a moment, hiss escaping through his teeth and eyes scrunching before finally fluttering open. Seeing Chris awake, still definitely pale and covered in blood but alive, was a decent distraction from the pain. “You’re okay?” he breathed, needing to hear it confirmed, not trusting his eyes to not betray him. With every second he gathered his thoughts better, ‘woke up’ in a sense and finally let Chris’s arm go. It hurt to turn, to move and sit up straighter, torn shirt sticking to raw skin and wounds and tugging at them. He needed to see his work from last night, see that the bandages had stuck and nothing was bleeding through. That the full horror of his own doing, the evidence of which was dried all over his neck and shirt, wasn’t visible. 

—

“Eh,” came Chris’ reply. He weakly dropped his head back onto the couch once he knew that Zane was alive. Relief was evident on his face — or maybe that was just the fatigue. Okay was definitely not the word he’d used, but it would do. He was alive, by some miracle. The amount of blood that had dried onto their skin and into what little clothing remained told him that at least one of them should be a goner. He was glad it didn’t come to that. A shiver overtook him then once his worry for Zane gave way. It wasn’t violent, but it was noticeable. “I’m.. okay,” he assured, though he wasn’t entirely convinced of that himself. 

Chris could see Zane’s chest a little better when he moved. He followed the mess of blood down to the wounds visible beneath the torn and frayed gashes of what little shirt remained. He couldn’t make out much detail, but his initial, woozy assumption was correct: Zane did look worse. He didn’t even know the extent of his own injuries, but he could tell he made it out with the better deal. “Are..” oh how dried his mouth and throat had become. Did he sleep with his mouth open or something? He tried to clear his throat, accomplishing little, but it was enough to get out at least one question. “Are you okay?” That was probably a stupid question considering how badly Zane’s wounds looked, but he was alive and sitting upright, which had to be a good thing.

—-

Zane would have laughed if it didn’t make his chest burn but a tired smile did form on his lips because ‘eh’ was the perfect way to describe the current situation. They were both alive, or so to speak, and at least for now, Chris didn’t seem to want to throw the blame for the giant wound on his throat. The sudden shiver didn’t go unmissed and panic rose in Zane for a second, hands instinctively moving to pull the blanket over Chris higher up. Decency hadn’t exactly been his main worry last night but as he moved the only thing currently protecting the other man’s dignity, he was acutely aware of the glaring lack of clothing. He’d need to get the other some new clothes but a shower seemed necessary first and…

His attention snapped back to Chris as he spoke, thoughts still spinning around behind his eyes, which followed the other’s gaze down to his own chest. Right. “I’ll be fine, looks worse than it is,” Zane explained quickly and, as if to prove the point, moved to stand. It did the opposite, the process filled with wincing and harsh breaths sucked through teeth but at last, he stood. “See?” he attempted, jaw still clenched from the waves of pain. “I heal fast,” Zane added after a beat. 

“I think… we should get you in some clothes,” he thought aloud, grateful to be able to focus on removing the needle from Chris’s arm as he approached the subject. “A shower first probably makes sense, there’s one on this floor so no stairs. If you think you’re up for it, might get you warm, too.” Needle discarded, Zane looked over at the other to gauge for a reaction to this plan and found himself, even in these worst of circumstances, thankful that blushing was no longer a thing he could do. Even pale and covered in grime and blood, Chris was breathtaking, especially up close and Zane really needed to get some distance between their faces right now. 

Straightening back up with slightly less effort than before - at least the distraction of these very inappropriate thoughts helped with the pain - Zane offered a hand. “Wanna give it a shot?”

—

Chris wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what his mind told him what had happened. There were flashes of images that made no sense — but they were familiar. He’d seen things like that before. He just thought that the gore that seemed to plague him was merely a figment, a fabrication of his trauma. He didn’t think it could potentially be real; no — he never wanted it to be real, so he tried his best to push it away and ignore it. But it was here again. There was no ignoring it this time. He was grateful for Zane’s helpful hands and the distraction that came from the blanket as he didn’t want to linger on those thoughts. Not right now.

Zane’s pain was another helpful distraction, even if he’d prefer not to see him in it. A lie, Chris thought as much. Did he… What could have done that? An answer blinked across his mind, but it didn’t linger. He watched with raised brows as Zane pushed through the discomfort at having to stand. “Looks.. like it feels pretty bad, too…” He coughed out; there was just the smallest edge of humor in his observation, but concern overrode mostly everything else. “Not fast enough,” If he was still standing there with gashes in his chest, then no, it definitely wasn’t fast enough. Wolverine would have been fine — Zane, not so much.

Clothes sounded great, but a shower sounded even better. The blood that coated him was no longer sticky, but it stuck in uncomfortable places and pulled at his chest hair whenever he moved. He didn’t think he could really make it, depending on how far the bathroom was from where they were, but he would try. It would be a little awkward with the misplaced footing and nudity, but this was not the first time he’d been completely naked in front of the other man. He doubted it’d be the last. 

Chris watched as Zane removed the needle from his arm without a wince to be found. It was nothing compared to the pain that throbbed from his neck. He hoped the shower would be a good distraction from the agony that found home in tender spaces — he also hoped it would be hot. He needed to feel his skin sear. He needed the water to scald him. There was no answer as to why, it just felt necessary. He gave it just a moment to think, wondering how exactly the trip would go, when he figured to just go for it. Zane was there to help, after all. (Wasn’t he?) So Chris nodded and offered him a small, but eager “yeah” and took his hand. 

—-

Zane appreciated the concern, he really did, but waved it off nonetheless. “It’ll be fine. Seriously. Healed a broken leg in just a few weeks, so…” The pain probably would have been overwhelming without the distraction of something more important, if not for the need to help someone more important. Not only was Chris just barely brought back from physical devastation but the confusion and hurt behind his eyes eluded to the war being waged inside his head. A strange familiarity had flashed behind the dual colored eyes upon looking over the gashes, quickly overtaken by something else, something dark. 

At least Zane knew what he was, even if he neither liked nor particularly wanted to accept it. 

“Yeah,” he parroted back, smiling softly as he grabbed the other’s hand. As expected, it was… a hassle and a half. Supernatural strength or not, Zane’s chest tugged and ached with every movement and Chris wasn’t exactly small, wolf or not. At least this was an improvement from last night, with the other man awake and somewhat able to stand on two feet. The blanket, that would need a very thorough cleaning once this was all through, was haphazardly secured around Chris’s waist before they moved further, allowing both of them to cling to the delusion of privacy. 

After the short but arduous journey was complete, Chris slowly lowered down to tiled shower floor, Zane heaved a sigh of relief. Leaning back against the wall, head settling back as he let his eyes close for a moment while the black edges of pain faded from his vision, a short huff of a laugh escaped him. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” he sighed, amusement tinting the words because if there was no humor to be found in this, the melancholy of it all would drag him to the ground and he wasn’t sure if he’d get back up again. 

Eyes finally opened again and he glanced down at Chris, offering another smile. “Towels in the cupboard, I’ll bring back some clothes and uh… call out if you need anything more, I guess?” Wary to leave the room in case horror struck again, Zane finally did - with the door left ajar - after one last glance at the man he had only managed to meet under the strangest and bloodiest of circumstances. 

His ears were perked the whole time as he settled for cleaning off his face and chest at the sink, not wanting to miss a shout for assistance if he jumped in one of the house’s showers. A pair of sweats, neatly folded, were placed outside the bathroom door where everything still sounded fine, Zane finally slumping back onto the couch once his own ruined pants had been changed as well. It wouldn’t do much for the healing but still, he started the process of getting some bandages on his own chest. 

—

It’ll be fine, he said. It didn’t look fine, Chris thought, but he figured there was no point to argue, not when Zane seemed so sure, and not when either of them were in no position to argue in the first place. If he didn’t do something about those cuts, though, then he’d bring it up again, but for now, he accepted the help without pushing the subject again. 

The walk sucked. It wasn’t the worst walk he’d ever have to do, but it still sucked. He was grateful for Zane, for his support and company. He made the short, yet uncomfortable trip to the bathroom just a bit better. Relief found him when they made it to the room and he was finally met with the cooled tile floor. They felt good on his angry, inflamed skin. 

Zane’s comment pulled a tired, but full laugh from Chris. “Hey, I’m not complaining,” he joked, but actually he would like for them to stop meeting like this. This was a little too traumatizing for his tastes. Their first meeting had been unusually awkward enough, but it only seemed to get worse from there. At least he was nice. “No, I’m kidding…” he had to clarify with another small laugh and held a hand up in defense. “Something more.. Normal would be nice.” For next time, but he didn’t say that out loud. What if next time ended up being worse? 

“Thanks…” went his lame ass reply of appreciation, but he really did feel grateful for what Zane did and continued to do for him. He hoped that at least it showed on his face. If not, he owed him regardless. It only seemed to get better when the door was left open — mostly likely to be able to hear for any potential accidents on Chris’ end, but having not been confined, even in the bathroom, relaxed him immensely. He knew the shower would do wonders for his aching muscles and low mood, but the act of leaving the door open, especially when most people would prefer privacy, left him feeling over the moon. It was stupid, but it made him happy.

The shower was… Well, it was nice. It felt like every other shower after a night of whatever it was he managed to get himself into. He made sure not to get the stitches wet, even though that was never instructed on Zane’s part — that was difficult, however. He wanted nothing more than to dip his whole head under the stream of water, but he’d rather err on the side of caution.

After the water was shut off, Chris stood in the shower for a bit longer than necessary. He really didn’t want to get out, but he didn’t want Zane to worry more, so after another beat, he stepped out, dried off to the best of his ability, and found a set of sweats neatly folded just outside the bathroom door. He had wondered about that initially, but he was glad Zane seemed to think of everything. Feeling clean and having clean clothes was honestly the best, and it felt like he was being wrapped up in a warm hug. He savored the feeling for just a hair longer before he figured he should probably poke his head out and find his very consistent rescuer.

The journey back to the living room made the most sense, so Chris headed in that direction to find Zane on the couch. He would have looked comfortable if it weren’t for the long cuts along his chest. Bandages, good — at least they were being taken care of.

“Hey..” he greeted softly.. Both of his hands were buried in the pockets of the sweats he wore; they messed with the soft inner fabric, a nervous habit.

—-

From the second the water stopped running, Zane’s ears were perked even further, listening for any sound of trouble. It took every inch of self control not to call out or rush in there as the silence drew on for longer and longer but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - hover uncomfortably. Plus, Chris’s sense of privacy had been abused enough for one day. The fact that he had seen the man naked, held him naked to make things even better, more often than some of the people he’d been intimate with was really a painfully ironic situation. 

Luckily for the vampire’s frayed nerves and the endless spinning of his thoughts, Chris finally appeared, now the much healthier looking out of the two of them. “Hey,” Zane breathed back, fully ignoring the warm feeling of seeing someone else in his clothes because the situation that forced it was horrendous and made the feeling bad and twisted. “I, uh… I ordered some food. Since I don’t really keep… any.” His hands fiddled with the roll of tape he was holding before he finally put it down, glancing back up at Chris. 

“Do you… I mean, should we talk about… last night?” His voice was hesitant, the words chosen carefully which ultimately just made it sound like they’d accidentally hooked up and were now trying to tread the waters of a morning after. “We don’t have to but… I’m here. If you want to.”

—

At the mention of food, Chris’ stomach grumbled as if it were waiting for that cue. Oh, right, that was something he needed to do. He remembered having lunch the day prior (was it the day prior???), but anything after that was a huge blur. Apparently, he was far overdue for a meal, but he was tickled that Zane had thought about ordering something even if he didn’t need to — really, he would have been fine if there was no mention of it but the fact that he went ahead and took it upon himself to add even more comfort to an already jarring experience made Chris feel incredibly cared for.

It was the first time in a long time and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Really? You didn’t ha...” Objection, objection, objection — to some that would be disrespectful. He caught himself before he resorted to the usual dismissal of anything good his way and instead replaced it with a look of sheepish appreciation. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t help but to feel like a burden, even now. “Thank you,” he conceded, his tone nothing but sincere. This was just another thing to add to the ‘owe list’, he supposed.

It was nice of him to add that they didn’t really have to talk about what happened the night before, but — they should, shouldn’t they? If you woke up to a neck wound that needed stitches and a friend that looked like they fought a cheese grater and won, you’d want to know too, right? Chris worried at the soft, wool-like material with his thumbs before he removed both hands and shuffled over to the couch. He settled back onto the couch heavily — he tried to ignore the blood stains — yet carefully enough to not disturb Zane too much, in case he too was still in pain.

His palms ran along his thighs and smooth the sweatpant material until they found purchase against his knees. He gave them both a squeeze, clearly uncomfortable. He needed to know. “I, heh.. I don’t really want to, but…” Chris felt a curl of hair fall until it tickled the very top of one of his eyebrows. He didn’t bother with fixing it. He couldn’t move his hands. “... What happened.. Exactly?,” he asked hesitantly, fearfully. 

—--

Ordering food, the idea of nourishment after the blood Zane had aggressively removed from the other man, had been more instinct than actual thought. He hadn’t meant for the gesture to bring that look of guilt onto Chris’s face, hadn’t even meant for it to be a gesture at all. The thought that he owed Chris a meal anyway since the other had, nonconsensually as it may have been, provided Zane with a meal, tickled at the back of his mind. A poor joke, one that thankfully stayed locked up. “It’s nothing,” he said instead, thankful when Chris decided to join him on the couch instead of running out. Maybe the promise of food was good enough to keep him here. 

Zane turned on the couch and crossed his legs, facing the nervous man and waiting patiently. It was easier to focus his gaze on the restless hands than the stray lock of hair just begging to be pushed back but even just the hands were setting off ‘Nurse Zane’s’ innate need to provide physical comfort. So he dug his own fingers into the material of the couch, glancing up once Chris finally gave permission for the story to be told. 

“I saw…” He hesitated, heaved a useless breath, and then continued. “I saw a wolf. A giant one. Disturbed it feeding so it went after me, instead.” Zane’s eyes moved down to his chest, bandaged but still aching. “I, uhm… I’m not much of a fighter but it had me trapped so I just… well, on instinct, I guess, I… bit it.” He wanted to glance up at the wound he had inflicted, now covered by bandages, just like Wynne’s, but refrained. “And then the wolf, uh… was you. Is you. Like you sort of rearranged yourself back to… normal but then you were bleeding a lot so I… I brought you here.”

—

It’s nothing. No, maybe not, but to Chris it was an incredibly kind gesture. There weren’t too many people in his life who were thoughtful like that — there weren’t too many people in his life at all, actually. Regardless, he figured it was best not to linger on that. He had other things to worry about, like the slightly confusing information that Zane just dropped onto him.

He listened to it, absorbed it, and took note of the pauses. Despite being still and mostly unreactive, his hands had clenched tightly around a clump of material at both knees, knuckles pale, revealing how he felt. Him? For years now there had been plenty of what he assumed were displaced memories of horrific things that plagued him every waking and sleeping moment. For years they were the same or similar in their blood and carnage and he always assumed that maybe, just maybe, they were manifestations from the horrors of his upbringing. He thought it was just in his head, that he was just broken.

One of Chris’ legs started to bounce. A lump started in his throat, one he desperately tried to push down to no avail. He felt his eyes sting. A breath of a small, sardonic laugh escaped him, unable to really believe what he just heard. No, no that couldn’t be. But the bite. Everything else could be explained away but the fucking bite. He could feel it throb, as if on cue, beneath the bandages that were wrapped tenderly on his neck.

He looked down at his lap. A wave of lightheadedness overtook him then and he had to let out a slow, shaky breath as he shook his head. “Um…” He swallowed. Or tried to. “Are you… Are you sure?” His voice broke just a hair at the end, inflection raised as if he were asking Zane not to be.

—

This was too much. He’d said too much, too fast and Chris looked about ready to break. Zane finally caved, one hand finding the shaking one on the shifter’s knee, giving a tight but gentle squeeze. “I wish I wasn’t,” he said quietly, his own voice breaking with hurt for the other man. “But it wasn’t… it wasn’t you. I know I don’t exactly know you like that but it was completely different from you. I don’t know if it’s just a part of you or what but you’re not someone who would hurt people willingly.”

Zane scooted closer on the couch, desperate to make sure that whatever he was saying, however little knowledge he was basing it on, was heard. “Chris… I’ve hurt people too,” he continued, voice thick. Unsure if he was making things better or worse right now. “Without meaning to, without wanting to so… if you want, I’m here. I don’t know how but I want to help, if you’ll let me.” And if he wanted to bolt out of here, never run into the vampire that only seemed to pop under the worst of circumstances, Zane would let him. 

—

The hand that found itself over his own was a comforting one, but it did little to quell Chris’ rising panic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his thumb to try and caress what skin he could reach. A part of him wanted to shake himself free of Zane’s touch, but there was nothing but care here, nothing but a tenderness that made him want to at least try to be normal despite the whirlwind of emotions. The sting in his eyes only worsened when he’d felt the hand. Tears swelled, though not quite enough to fall over the brim of his lower lashline. Monster, evil, stupid thing. “How…” He swallowed thickly before he continued with a shaky breath. “How do you know… I.. I don’t even know.. N-not anymore.”

He felt something else grow behind his distraught and growing anguish. It nestled in the pit of his stomach and churned with each thought and memory of death his mind managed to dig up. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Zane also being a potential murderer. He couldn’t pick apart his emotions or figure out where one ended and another began. It was a mess and although it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling with accidental serial killing, it made him feel sick. He killed all those people and just… forgot about it. Chose to forget about it. He still wanted to forget about it, ignore it until it ate away at him again and again. He didn’t want this hell—

“I’ll… be right-back...” Chris promised with a hurried tension. His nausea only worsened the more he continued to think and try to unthink; the only thing that really helped tether him to the present was Zane’s hand. That wouldn’t stop the knots in his stomach, so he had to remove himself from the couch, from the other man’s touch, and stiffly walked, not ran because that would have made it worse, back to the bathroom. He became acquainted with the toilet in there, although the relief was brief. The sob that escaped him echoed within the porcelain bowl and threatened to keep him fixed to the toilet, but he willed himself up to at least rinse his face in the sink. He shook with every step and even though his body reacted so viscerally, his mind continued to rebel against it.

Chris couldn’t help it — he dropped to the tiled floor and cried. The sound of his knees crashing against the floor, though covered with material, was probably audible. He didn’t care. He was too busy with his face in his hands, crying, and wondering why him.

—-

How did one know if someone was a good person? Zane had definitely put his trust in the wrong people before, on more than one occasion but… so far he hadn’t been wrong about the presence of a genuine kind soul. He thought about people like Ariadne and Jonas who simply warmed you with their presence but when that didn’t feel like the right comparison, he thought about Emilio. It would have been so easy to judge the slayer on his actions and his words, just like with Chris, but it was impossible to ignore the innate kindness. Even covered in blood and bodies. 

“Guess you’re just going to have to trust me on that,” was the only thing Zane could think to say, squeezing the hand in his tighter until he was forced to let go. 

The relief felt when Chris didn’t gun for the door was short lived, the pained sounds from the bathroom gluing Zane stuck to the couch for a moment. He finally moved closer, slowly, taking a seat next to the door and leaning his head back against the wall. It was unfair that Chris was going through this with someone who barely knew him, someone who couldn’t even tell how to help him, if anything even would. Zane was overthinking this, he knew that, and in a way was grateful for the alarming sound coming from the bathroom that forced him into action. 

Whether it was a bad idea, whether it was violating boundaries, didn’t matter. Zane found himself on the floor right alongside Chris, arms wrapping around the shaking frame, holding the man tightly despite his chest protesting. Maybe he was crying too or his face simply wet from where it got buried in Chris’s hair, maybe he held him and murmured comforting words for minutes or an hour. There was nothing to say and the only thing he could think of was to attempt to impart some feeling of safety on the bathroom floor of all places, going through every soothing gesture he could think of as long as Chris would let him. Not even thinking about the intimacy of stroking someone’s back, their hair, holding them to his chest, as long as it seemed to be helping just the tiniest bit. 

—

Chris didn’t have a lot of trust in people, but he wanted to trust Zane. He trusted his actions, for the most part. Nothing the other man did seemed to have a lick of ulterior motive, but his words, though reassuring as they were, didn’t seem to fit in with his lived experience and the paranoia and accusations that followed him tirelessly. He just couldn’t believe them, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how confident Zane seemed to be.

As he sat on the cold floor and heaved gasping, crying breaths into both palms, he didn’t hear the bathroom door open. He didn’t hear Zane creep in, either, didn’t even know he was there in the room with him until he felt hands on him. A spark of panic initially started, tensing Chris’ body from the sudden intrusion of personal space he didn’t see coming, but his shoulders relaxed the second he realized who it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he was held like that. It had to have been with his sister, surely, but that was towards the end of their time together. Had it really been that long?

Hesitantly and with shivering body, Chris leaned into the comfort that Zane was providing and welcomed the slight chill that came from his embrace. Consolation so tender helped to alleviate some of the hiccup-like sobbing that escaped him, but it couldn’t help the small bouts of embarrassment and self-pity that tried to get him to leave. So he tried to bury himself into Zane’s arms further, as if to try to shut off those parts of his spiraling thoughts. With some time and patient, steady compassion, his tearful weeping turned into small whimpers and dry eyes. “I’m sorry…” came his voice, small and breathless, and thick with tears that threatened to fall again.

—-

After a while, his chest stopped aching, overthrown by the dull pain in his heart. Zane’s journey into the supernatural hadn’t been a nice one and even though his clan at the time had been far from perfect, at least he’d had them. At least he’d gotten some insight into what he was now. Chris’s whole world had just come crashing down all at once. At the very least, Zane hoped this might be the start to some healing instead of breaking the man completely. 

Chris stood outside Zane’s house with the front door key in hand and a small, grocery bag in the other. He looked a little conflicted as he stared at the metal object in the middle of his palm. It felt a little odd to enter the other man’s home without him there, but he’d been given explicit permission — and he had the messages to prove it in case anyone asked. Still, he couldn’t help but to hesitate before resigning that it wouldn’t have been offered if Zane hadn’t meant it. With a decision made up, he unlocked the front door, slipped inside and locked it immediately behind him.

Other than the distant sound of laughter from a trick-or-treater or two, the house was quiet. It felt different with Zane gone, but it was still better than the small cell-like motel room. While it had its charms and coziness when he’d first moved in, the Bearcliff motel started to feel more and more like a prison than a place to rest. He was grateful for this reprieve, even if he had to spend the evening alone. Chris removed his shoes at the door, a habit forced onto him, and set the bag onto the couch side table. He stared down at one of the cushions for a moment, noting the faintness of stains that lingered in the fabric before he turned back to the bag.

The rustling of plastic filled the room when he opened it and procured the outfit Zane had lent him the last time he was there — as well as the sweater from that first time. Apparently it had gotten lost among Chris’ other clothes, forever eaten by the hamper — or so he’d thought. He set the loosely folded items onto the table, balled up the shopping bag, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. A stomach growl erupted from the depths of his stomach, which promptly reminded him that Zane had mentioned snacks. Now, he did feel a little embarrassed to be taken care of, especially so frequently, but he would be a fool to turn down food.

The house was big and the quiet was constant, but the snacks and change in scenery helped to ease some of Chris’ Halloween anxiety. He nested himself onto the same couch, a familiar and somewhat comfortable spot, with a blanket and munched away while he perused on his phone. Every so often he’d respond to a message from Zane or reply to an email regarding an order, but the sound of a Youtube video ended up filling the space as he drifted off to sleep.

—--

Excusing himself regularly to sneak a look at his phone was a new thing for Zane, his cell usually kept somewhere to the side while he worked since there was never really anything pressing to look at. Now, he found himself eager to check it between patients, hurriedly typing away a reply to Chris, heart warm at the thought of him finding comfort in the house. It wasn’t much but so far, it felt like the one genuinely helpful thing Zane had been able to do for the other man throughout all of their interactions. 

The other nurses noticed his distracted state, of course, nothing getting past those keen eyes. Their smiles were teasing as they poked fun at him, asking who the lucky guy was and leading to a very unconvincing argument that it was just a friend. They didn’t believe him and probably had no reason to as he got visibly flustered. A friend, just casually staying at his house? If they’d gotten any more details, Zane’s story would have sounded even less convincing. The fact that he was rushing home the second his shift ended definitely left his coworkers smiling coyly at his back. 

It was still dark by the time he trudged up to the house, sun just barely starting to make its presence known, so Zane moved quietly. It was a strange comfort, knowing there was someone inside, other than Buddy who was usually too lazy to even greet him at the door. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, spotting Chris bundled up on the couch and it reflectively brought a soft smile to Zane’s face. He finally looked goshdarn peaceful, curls framing the relaxed face and the remnants of snacks consumed littered on the small coffee table. 

For a moment Zane wished he needed to sleep, wanted to have a solid reason to tear himself away from his current spot where he was acting like a certified freak. Really living up to that romance-vampire farce. Finally snapping out of the daze, the thought of having someone to wake up with or come home to every day, the thought that things weren’t messed up, Zane resigned himself to a shower instead. Excited for Chris to wake up, to talk to him in person after the night of online messaging, but in no way prepared to wake him from the peaceful sleep. 

Hands ran through wet curls once the night shift had been washed off, thoughts about how much he needed a haircut occupying his mind as a towel got wrapped around his waist. His attempts to not think about Chris being asleep in the other room while showering had been successful enough to make Zane distractedly leave the bathroom on a mission towards his room, fully forgetting that someone might have been awake out there by now. 

—

Suffocated by nightmares or dead to the world were the only two ways of sleep that Chris tended to get — if he even slept at all. Fortunately, the sandman found a modicum of mercy that night and did allow him to sleep without too much twitching, talking, or tossing. He was able to curl up and bury his face into the couch cushions, a blanket wrapped tightly around him to keep his warmth close. He didn’t hear the front door open. He didn’t know that Zane had come home.

He thought something was off, however, when Chris did open his eyes for just a crack as he started to rouse. The plan was to close them again, to roll over and go back to sleep for who knew how long, but the sight of something other than the motel wall or flat pillow or plastic alarm clock sent a shock of sudden confusion and brief terror. Familiarity rolled back into him the minute he sat up. You’re fine, he told himself as he steadied his breath. You’re safe.

Chris loosened his grip on the couch and leaned against the back of it. His elbow pressed down into the cushion while his chin rested in his hand, ready to fall back asleep like that. He took note of the trash on the coffee table and sighed again. He was about to chastise himself for not taking care of his garbage before passing out when he heard a noise come from the direction of the bathroom. The light that eagerly tried to peak in through the curtains meant that it was morning. Did that mean Zane was back from work?

A beat of silence had Chris listening intently, though nervously. “Zane?” He called out, hesitantly, sleepily, and completely unsure of himself. What if it wasn’t Zane? What if someone else lived there, or if those other friends of his could get in, if they knew where the key was… He sat there with his eyes on the archway that led towards the hallway that contained the bathroom, alert and with breath held.

—

It was a matter of debate who got startled worse once Zane rounded the corner, him or the houseguest he had let slip from his mind. Post night shift brain fog was real but this felt like a giant oversight on his part, parading around the house in nothing but a towel. At the very least, he would have called out before exiting the bathroom, probably even doubled or tripled the amount of towels. Backtracking honestly felt like an option at one point but in the end, that seemed much more telling than simply swallowing his awkwardness and fumbling through this. 

“Hi! Hey, you’re… you’re up. Sorry I didn’t - I mean, I didn’t want to wake you when I got home because you looked way too comfortable.” Not that he’d been looking looking… One hand furtively moved to grip the edge of the towel, keeping it firmly in place even though Chris was definitely entitled to being on the other spectrum of accidental nudity for once. A stray drop of water trickled down his neck and Zane suppressed a shiver, feeling much more exposed now than the other night, every other aspect having been dimmed by blood and injury and panic. 

Now he was just standing half-naked in his own living room, trying to filter out all the weird things his brain was suggesting he say at this moment. 

“Guess it’s about time you got to be the fully dressed and not awkward one for once.” Yeah, weird shit like that. “Not that you’ve had any reason to be awkward, obviously. I mean, not obviously but more like, it’s not like you have anything to feel awkward about. In the sense that you’re… uhm. How was your night?” A very smooth save. Zane couldn’t help chuckling at himself, head shaking and eyes averting to the floor. “Sorry. Brain’s not… good after a night shift.”

—

Oh. Oh, good, it was just Zane. No one else had managed to sneak into the house and he didn’t wake to find himself somewhere else, somewhere horrible. He hadn’t dreamt the whole past month or so either, even though he sort of wished he had. No, this was real and Zane was there and everything was fine — for now. His own relief took hold quickly and visibly eased the stiffness in his shoulders and tension in his arms, but the other man still looked a little perturbed. Maybe it had something to do with the towel around his waist.

Chris expelled a calmer breath. “Hey,” he returned with a smile before shaking his head. “Oh, no worries, I think I needed the sleep anyway.. So thanks for not waking me up,” he finished with a small laugh. He sat up a bit better, now that he knew he didn’t need to make a beeline for an exit or fight for his life, and rubbed at his eyes to wake himself some more. He still felt tired, of course. He didn’t think that would ever go away. But last night’s rest had been one of the better nights; he was grateful it hadn’t been interrupted. He didn’t think it would really end well, either.

Zane stumbling over his words earned a laugh from the seated blonde who had just started to stretch his arms. “It’s okay, I get it. I, uh… I can definitely relate,” he pointed to his own head before uttering another little laugh and brushing away a stray curl that started to tickle one of his brows. “My night was… Good, pretty good. Definitely five stars compared to some of my other nights..” Another chuckle, this time with a tinge of that awkwardness Zane so endearingly threw out into the universe.

“Was work okay? When did you even get in? I didn’t hear a thing…” He asked with a more comfortable smile before his eyes widened with an ‘oh!’ and he patted one of the arm’s of the couch, the one closest to the side table. “I also, uh.. Brought you your clothes back. I cleaned them, of course.. I’m sorry if I stretched them out or anything. I tried really hard to be careful about taking them off…”

—

It probably proved how little Zane knew the other man, how surprised he was at Chris’s complete lack of discomfort at the situation this rambling was in no way improving. He mostly just looked relieved to see him, which did work some to calm the storm of anxious thoughts in Zane’s mind. Asking a question had seemed like the best way to divert the conversation back into something normal but he hadn’t figured for the actual conversation to follow. At least Chris’s laugh was helping to distract from the current situation. 

“Definitely less blood,” Zane agreed, smiling and letting himself once again enjoy just how calm the man looked, such a stark contrast from each and every one of their last meetings. 

He finally shifted, letting his feet move from being glued to the ground in mild terror, risking a few steps closer to the couch since standing all this distance away felt dumb. “Work was fine. Definitely busy, plenty of drunk people.” Zane sighed, recounting the hectic night. “Less weird than I expected, to be honest,” he chuckled, raking back the wet curls that were trying to drip into his face now. Attention turned to the clothes resting on the couch and he smiled wide, recognizing the hoodie from way back when. 

“Heh, thanks. Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t even expecting them back, anyway.” Closing the rest of the distance, Zane pulled the hoodie from the neatly folded pile, shrugging it on and feeling that much less exposed. Although it still smelled faintly of Chris which was a different problem all on its own. “I’m gonna put on some… more clothes,” he said sheepishly, shuffling his feet towards the stairs. “Help yourself to cereal in the kitchen if you want.” 

Once he finally had the comfort of pants, Zane returned downstairs with a skeptical Buddy in tow. Knowing Chris, the baku had probably gotten a decent meal last night. He left the hoodie on, zipped up to cover the faint remnants of the wolf’s damage, chastising himself for just how much he was letting himself enjoy the warm smell. “I totally forgot to mention the only other living thing in this house,” he started once Chris was in sight, gesturing down to Buddy who regarded the other man with wary curiosity. “This is Buddy. He, uh… eats nightmares.”

—

Chris had always felt sensitive to people’s emotions or to their posture — for as long as he could remember, he had the ability to read the room and adjust to it. Or leave, if it came down to it. He could generally tell if someone was happy or sad — or uncomfortable (was that the trauma or the wolf?). He could see a little in Zane, or rather, feel it. But he couldn’t blame him; the situation was too messed up, it felt surreal. At least, it didn’t feel completely like the nightmares that terrorized him. At least, Zane was there to make it a little bit better.

“Less weird?” He parroted, “that’s a good thing though, right?” Chris leaned back into the couch, happy with the comfort it gave him. “What were you expecting?” He asked, genuinely curious. He’d only ever witnessed the crazy a couple of times, but he assumed the ER was hectic during most, if not all, major holidays. It was over, though, and Zane was reunited with the sweaters he’d so willingly handed over. He watched as the hoodie was slipped on, effectively hiding Zane’s chest and the claw remnants that marked it. “It’s the least I could do… I wouldn’t be able to not return them, anyway.” Unless he broke them by accident, then he’d probably just get him a new one.

“Oh, yeah dude, go. Take your time.” Cereal sounded good; his stomach growled on cue, empty and with hunger pains. He was hungry, though something richer, more savory was preferred, like eggs or sausage, but the cereal would have to do. He found a seat in the kitchen, figuring it was better to eat in there than in the living room and had nearly finished the first bowl when Zane returned, this time clothed and dryer than before. Good. The damage Chris had supposedly done to the other man’s skin was a little too distracting for breakfast. He didn’t need to worry about that, though, not when there was an animal in the room.

He had paused mid-bite when he saw the creature that Zane referred to. It wasn’t a dog, no, nor a pig or a miniature pony — or really anything that could be considered a pet. Maybe it was something exotic, but again, nothing really sprang to mind when he took in Buddy’s appearance, tilting his head as if that would help him discern what he was. He looked back at the creature just as warily, chewing until his mouth was free so he could reply.

“Hey, Buddy…” Chris greet with a small, confused wave from his free hand. His head tilted to the other side as he regarded Zane’s… friend. The nightmare bit gave him pause. “What do you mean, he eats nightmares? Like, actually? … What is he?”

—

Leaning against the doorway, brown eyes flickered with mild worry between Buddy and Chris, the two now staring each other down. The baku seemed slightly on edge, perhaps sensing some sort of animalistic kinship in the man, stuck between that wariness and wanting to display affection for the lovely meal last night. Eventually, the baku dared to trod away from Zane’s side, moving closer to Chris after the hesitant greeting was delivered. As the long snout sniffed at the house guest’s feet, Zane relaxed and found himself smiling at the other’s adorable look of confusion. 

“Yeah, for real. He’s something called a baku, apparently. I had no idea, just brought him in off the street one day and a friend provided me with some information. Mostly the ‘eating nightmares’ part, although they didn’t really give me any specifics into how that actually works.” Finally moving into the kitchen, Zane took a seat opposite Chris, the domesticity of the situation making him feel warm in the same way the hoodie did before he derailed himself quickly from that train of thought. “He’s not dangerous or anything, just… feeds on nightmares, I guess. So if you had a good sleep, you probably have him to thank.” Zane paused, smiling once again as he looked down to see the baku still furiously investigating Chris now that he felt comfortable. 

“I can’t really tell you much else, don’t really sleep so no nightmares to even get eaten. Oh! Coffee.” Chair scraping the floor as he pushed back, Zane busied himself with making coffee, realizing as he started that he didn’t even know if Chris drank coffee. Well, at least it gave him something to do other than push away uninvited thoughts that seemed stronger than ever now that neither of them were bleeding or in mortal danger. 

—

As far as Chris knew, animals didn’t like him. He wasn’t allowed to have any pets growing up and when he tried to get one as an adult, that failed spectacularly. Reactions to him varied - some ran in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible while others tried to bite him. He did his best not to think about how people liked to say that animals could tell if a person was “bad” or “evil” in some way, but it was difficult. 

This guy, though, didn’t seem to mind him. In fact, despite its initial wariness, it seemed curious for the stranger. The sniffling at his feet made Chris smile. The tidbit about “eating nightmares” sounded a little fake, in his opinion, but there was a lot in Wicked’s Rest that he couldn’t exactly explain - and he did have a decent night’s rest, definitely nightmare free, but that didn’t mean the baku did it. Right? Maybe he just felt comfortable there. 

Chris reached down and offered Buddy one of his hands as sacrifice to its trunk-like nose. Every bout of snuffling sent a tickle through him. “I did get a good sleep, actually… For once,” he finished with a breath of a chuckle. “I’m glad he likes me. I don’t have this kind of luck with animals.” Not up close, anyway. He could take hours of photos of animals from afar, but up close? He tended to be an interesting catalyst. “How long have you had him for?” He asked after a beat.

Hypocritically, he was about to tell Zane that sleep was important and he should probably start doing that, having completely forgotten about the whole “vampire” bit, until he had jumped up with the mention of coffee. In truth, Chris didn’t really drink coffee. He did like it, especially sweet, but it had a tendency to not agree with him and so he did his best to stay away from it. But if Zane was going to make him some, he couldn’t say no. Not after the way the other man hurried up from his seat to make him something warm to drink.

Even though it was moot at this point, he did hear himself say that he didn’t have to make him anything, but the thank you that followed up was said in earnest and with appreciation. His fingers found the top of Buddy’s head and gave the skin there a gentle scratch. The smell of the coffee was comforting as it brewed and between the attention from Buddy and the calmness that settled in the kitchen sent a beat of warmth through him. This was really nice.

—

Zane couldn’t help the regular glances over his shoulder as the water came to a boil, catching glimpses of Chris smiling down at his strange animal. Maybe it should have been obvious that an actual werewolf wouldn’t be too put off by a weird, little creature like Buddy but then again, Chris wasn’t exactly all chill when it came to the supernatural. Which just made this actually normal morning, sans the nightmare eating pet, even nicer. “That’s good. And by the way, no way you’re sleeping on a couch next time. I mean, if you want to crash here again sometime, obviously. There’s plenty of spare bedrooms.”

Chuckling at the bit of bonding happening behind his back, Zane shrugged. “I’ve had him for a few months now, actually. And he’s not too hard to win over. Some petting and, in your case, a meal, is all it takes. And he can probably tell that you’re nice.” Where other animals wouldn’t - although Zane refused to believe it was because they didn’t trust Chris. As someone who had looked directly into the eyes of whatever Chris shared his consciousness with, Zane knew they were two different entities entirely. So if animals didn’t like the man calmly eating cereal and patting the baku, that was through no fault of Chris’s.