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An American Werewolf In Chicago

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Ten year old Benton Fraser was eating his oatmeal. It was dry and lumpy, but at least he had some brown sugar to put on it and it wasn't even his birthday.

'Benton. I need you to organise the books today,' Martha Fraser said as she read the paper.

'Of course,' Benton said because of course he would do whatever his Grandmother asked.

Once he was done, he put his empty bowl in the sink and walked outside. The morning sunlight warmed his skin and a breeze ruffled his hair. He walked past his uncle's cabbage garden and saw that the vegetables were dark green and leafy. He walked to the front of the yard where the Airstream stood. The silver trailer that served as his Grandparents's mobil library gleamed in the sunlight.

He walked into the Airstream. He couldn't help but smile as he gazed at all the books lined up on their shelves, it was like visiting old friends. There were shelves against every wall and even more books stacked high on the floor.

He had read every book, sometimes he even read them more than once. His family traveled all over Canada and lived in countless places, but no matter what the books always made him feel like he was home.

He moved to a shelf and sat on the floor. He picked up the books next to him and began sorting and organising them. Many of them were worn and a few had pages falling out. His Grandmother said that meant they were well loved.

The sun was bright and he longed to be outside, Eric always came up with fun games, but he pushed down his longing. He had work to do.

As he was putting the last of the books away, he saw a book sitting under the self. The dust on the cracked leather cover meant it had probably been there awhile.

He picked up the book and looked at it. The leather cover was a deep red and the title was written in gold. The title was 'The History of Werewolves'.

He carried the book over to the old wooden chair next to the window and opened the book.

The pages were brittle and yellow, but the words were still legible. The book talked about werewolves throughout history.

He read a few pages and sat the book down. He wanted to read more, but he had to finish sorting the books.

Later that night, he was laying on his bed. The quilt on his bed was worn and soft, it was made by his Grandfather from scraps of old clothes. His Grandfather's favourite chicken, Hilda, was cuddled next to him. He was reading the book he found by lamplight.

'Would you like me to read to you?' He asked Hilda.

Hilda clucked.

'Very well. Werewolves are known for being dangerous and unpredictable...'

As he read to Hilda, he thought maybe Eric would like the book, he was a shapeshifter too, after all.

Many decades later, Fraser was sanding in front of Ray's door. Ray had said he was sick and Fraser had decided to bring him some chicken soup. It was what Ray Vecchio would do, after all.

Ray had sounded rather horse on the phone and what kind of friend would he be if he didn't offer the soup of friendship? It had nothing to do with the fact that he missed how Ray would throw his arm over shoulder and grin as he jumped from one topic to another. In fact...

Dief barked and he realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts about Ray. It wasn't the first time that had happened and it probably wouldn't be the last. Ray had gotten under skin just like Ray Vecchio had, perhaps that was the reason Ray had been chosen to play Ray Vecchio, it certainly wasn't because they looked similar.

'Quite right,' Fraser said as he turned the door knob.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw that a large golden werewolf was standing in the middle of the apartment. He stepped in front of Dief to protect him, he had once read that werewolves were dangerous, but Dief had other ideas.

'Ray! Ray! Ray!' Dief exclaimed as he ran to the werewolf.

The werewolf bent down and wrapped its arms around Dief.

'Oh, dear,' Fraser said as he realized that the werewolf was Ray.

Ray stood up and grinned. He walked over to Fraser and pulled him into a hug. His fur was soft against Fraser's cheek and his nose was wet and cold as he nuzzled Fraser neck. Fraser should have been self conscious because Ray was naked, but he wasn't. It would be the same if Dief gave him a hug.

After a few moments, Ray broke the hug and Fraser missed the warmth.

Ray looked down at the thermos full of soup and took it.

'Ah, yes. That is for you. I thought you could use it since you were sick, but I assume you weren't actually sick,' Fraser said because he wasn't as nearly as naive as he liked to lead people to believe.

Ray looked bashful as he stared at the floor.

'It's all right. I understand. I'm sure these kinds of things are hard to talk about.'

Ray looked up and grinned. His blue eyes sparkled and Fraser smiled back.

Dief jump up onto Ray's chair and laid down. Spike the turtle, who had been sitting in the chair too, cuddled into Dief's side.

He took Fraser's hand and lead him to the couch. Once they sat down, Ray turned on the television and they watched an old black and white movie.

Ray laughed and it sounded like a dog barking. It was comfortable as if Ray was still human.

Fraser looked over at Ray and felt like a heel for thinking that Ray could be dangerous as a werewolf. The only difference about Ray was his soft golden fur. He didn't want to admit it, but sometimes books weren't accurate.

After a few minutes Ray laid down and rested his head on Fraser's lap. Ray had always been very free with his body, he seemed to enjoy touching, but this was something new. Perhaps werewolf Ray loved touching even more.

Fraser rested his hand on Ray's head and run his fingers through the fur. He told himself he was doing it purely for Ray and not because Ray's fur was alluring and Fraser wanted to touch someone for a change.

Ray made a happy noise as his eyes shut. Fraser thought that if Ray had a tail it would be wagging.

Ray was so heavy and warm that Fraser fell asleep in spite of himself.

Fraser dreamed of standing on a mound of snow. Above him the Northern Lights were dancing and the stars were shinning. He lifted his head and breathed deeply the scent of pine trees and Canada. Dief stood next to him. Ray Vecchio was a green eyed brightly coloured bird that sat on Fraser's shoulder.

Something was missing, but he couldn't figure out what.

The next morning, Fraser woke to find that Ray's head was still resting on his lap. Ray was no longer a wolf, but Fraser still had the urge to run his fingers through Ray's hair if only to find out if it was as soft as his fur.

He stamped down that urge and just revelled in Ray's closeness. He hoped that Ray wouldn't be too embarrassed by using Fraser's lap as a pillow.

Ray opened his eyes and sat up. He didn't look embarrassed at all, but Ray was never embarrassed by his closeness. He turned his head to look at Fraser. 'Morning.'

'Good morning, Ray.'

'So I guess you wanna talk about the whole werewolf thing, huh?'

Fraser wasn't going to pry but if Ray wanted to talk about it, they would. He had so many questions since the book he read as a child was woefully inaccurate. 'Only if you would like to discuss it.'

'Yeah. Yeah. What you want to know?' Ray asked as he ran his fingers through his hair.

'How long have you been a werewolf?'

'I was born a werewolf. It happened on my Mom's side. That was one of the reasons they left Poland. I didn't start changing until I hit puberty though.'

'Ah, I see.' Something was bothering him. 'I have been with you on stakeouts while the moon was full and you didn't change, why was that?'

'Oh, that. Yeah. I can control it, but if I don't change every three months or something, I'll wake up feeling like I have the world's worst hangover.'

'That sounds reasonable. Why didn't you tell me?'

Ray shrugged. 'I don't know... I guess I thought... maybe you'd think I was a freak or something.'

Fraser placed his hand on Ray's shoulder. 'I would never think that. I'm just glad that I know now.'

Ray grinned and his whole face lit up. 'Thanks, Fraser. I knew you'd understand.'

Fraser heard a growling sound and Ray looked down at his stomach. Fraser kept his gaze on Ray's face because Ray was still naked and looking at the area close to Ray's groin would not be buddies, as Ray was fond of saying.

'Man I'm starving.'

Fraser reached over to Ray's coffee table and picked up the thermos of soup and handed it to him.

Ray took the thermos, opened it and drained it.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down and Fraser just stared at Ray's throat. The skin looked so soft.

'The was greatness!' Ray stood up. 'Let's get some real food.'

Fraser just stared at Ray. 'I would like to eat with you, but perhaps you should put on some clothing first.'

Ray looked down at himself and his cheeks turned pink.

'Sorry, about the show, unless you like that kind of thing,' Ray said with a wink.

Now, it was Fraser's turn to blush. There was just something about that wink that was erotic, even more so than Ray's nudity.