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“I think I’d like you to be there this time. You know - um, if you’d want to, I guess.”
Frederick looks up, a page in his book half-turned as he immediately loses interest in what he’s reading. It’s nothing terribly good anyway - just some old textbook about the history of Peru - but he loves the idea of Peru just enough that he hasn’t been able to put it down since he picked it up that morning. This though, this stops him in his tracks. He looks up at Will, eyes scanning his expression for any hint of doubt.
“Are you positive? You’ve always been pretty independent when it comes to this. I don’t want you to think you need to, just because I’m curious. Your comfort trumps my curiosity any day of the week,” he says slowly, anxiously touching the scarf around his neck before patting the faded fabric of the couch next to him.
Will sits, a determined look on his face. The moon is getting full; it's clear in his hollow cheeks and the haunted look in his eyes. Frederick wants to bundle him up in their softest blankets, feed him good fattening Cuban foods and protect him from this stupid disease. Will wouldn't let him though. He's too adamant that this doesn’t affect him, too scared of looking weak or needy.
"No, it's fine," he insists. "I mean, it's probably not as bad as I've made it out to be. I tend to blow things out of proportion."
"You sure do." The affection is obvious in Frederick's voice, especially as he tugs Will closer to cuddle up against him. "Let's skip class tomorrow. You deserve a long weekend, especially if you're going to be out of commission on Sunday." More importantly, he wants to be around to provide for his boyfriend in his time of need. Sure, he respects Will’s desire to soldier through this, but it’s not like he has to go it alone.
Will nods, managing a grin as Frederick ruffles his hair. "Yeah, okay. I don't have anything big going on anyways."
They spend the night and all of Friday nesting a bit for the impending weekend. For the hell of it Frederick buys a new duvet and pillows that are actual Heaven on Earth, the kind that make it damn near impossible to get out of bed. Will buys an abundance of snack foods, loading the pantries before throwing together chili they can enjoy while they rent movies through their cable box. Nearly all of Friday night is spent nestled on the couch, arms and legs tangled together as they watch Bridesmaids and laugh like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen it.
They fall asleep nestled under their new bedding, kissing lazily and whispering reassurances to each other as moonlight trickles into the bedroom. Frederick knows Will needs them, is going to need as much affection as he can give over the next few days. He pets the taller boy’s hair, stroking his curls back and looking fearlessly into his eyes as they discuss all the details of what’s to come.
“Just...it’s not going to be dangerous, or anything,” Will says, sounding not quite sure. “For the most part I have my wits about me, I can vaguely remember everything that happens each time I come to. Just promise that if I get weird you’ll bail, okay?”
Frederick leans in, pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead. “It won’t get weird. But I promise that if some freak happening occurs I’ll lock myself upstairs, alright?”
Will nods, looking relieved. “Thanks.”
Frederick continues to run his fingers through Will’s soft mess of hair until he falls asleep, peaceful and still and completely human.
The Will that wakes him up on Saturday is a different beast altogether.
When he opens his eyes the sun is already filtering high and bright through their window. It’s got to be roughly around noon, judging by the way the light slices over his eyes with uncompromising cruelty. While his brain slowly clicks into place he realizes that Will is already up and moving, pawing at his boxers and whining high in his throat.
Will is still human, of course- same long, unruly limbs, same flushed skin, same fingers and toes and lips and everything else that makes up his normally-docile boyfriend. He’s no longer calm though, and he looks like he can barely keep in his skin.
It’s the noises he’s making that startle Frederick the most; Will almost sounds like he’s in pain, like there’s something bright and searing cutting through him. His eyes are wild, desperate, eyebrows knit tight together as he tries to tug the waistband of his underwear down. A thin sheen of sweat has broken out over his sun-kissed, freckled skin, collecting in the dip of his collarbone and his temples. His curls stick to his forehead; he looks fevered, frenzied.
“Off, come on. Off,” he begs, biting hard enough into his lower lip to potentially bruise it. Frederick goes from hazy to fully awake in no time flat, gasping as a warm hand works under the fabric of his boxers to grip his already half-interested erection.
He gasps, propping himself up on his elbows. “Will what the fuck,” he chokes, hips giving a feeble thrust. “I mean, I’m thrilled, good fucking morning, but what the fuck?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Will groans, hiding his face in the hot crook of Frederick’s neck. “I kind of get like this just before. I feel like my skin is too tight or something, I just need...I need….fuck Frederick I need you.” He straddles his boyfriend’s thigh, rutting helplessly against his warm skin. Frederick can feel the hot line of his cock pressed against him, the heat and want of him as he thrusts forward again and again. Despite the arousal prickling low in his abdomen he can feel his heart breaking for Will, for the way he seems so out of control.
With a firm push he rolls their bodies, pinning Will solidly to the bed. He takes thin, delicate wrists and holds them against the mattress, keeping Will as still as possible as he looks him in the eye. Will immediately keens and tries to fight Frederick off, but luckily it’s not Sunday so Frederick still has the advantage of strength.
“Listen to me. Hey, Will, listen,” he hisses. glass-green eyes boring into desperate blue as he catches Will’s stare. “I need you to pay attention for one minute, and then we can do whatever you want.”
Will swallows hard enough that his Adam’s apple bobs frantically, but he stills and manages a barely perceptible nod.
“Good, good,” Frederick pants, leaning in to brush soothing kisses against his sweat-slick temples. “I know you need this right now, and I promise I’m going to give it to you. But I need to know for sure that you’re fully aware of what’s going on. I’m not going to take advantage of you if this is some weird fever you’ve got going on and you can’t really make an informed decision.”
“It’s not a fever,” Will says, voice a needy whine. “It’s always like this, but I’ve never had you so fucking close when it happens. I just feel hot and I need…”
He looks away, color rising high in his cheeks.
Frederick releases one arm, bringing his own hand down to place a gentle palm along Will’s jaw. He turns his head back, making him hold eye contact. “You need what?” He asks softly, no trace of distrust or unease in his voice. He feels so much calmer than he should, with everything that’s coming in the next few days. “Tell me what you need, Will. It’s the only way I can help you.”
Will swallows again, resisting the urge to close his eyes. “I just...I need you to be rough with me. H-hold me down.” He makes another high, pitiful noise, eyes going glassy before he manages to come back to himself. “I feel so out of control when this happens, I need you to ground me.”
Frederick takes a moment to process this-despite what Will seems to believe about him, he never feels fully in control of anything. But he’s definitely the stoic one, the one who makes more deliberate choices. So he takes a moment, he processes it, and he makes a deliberate goddamn choice.
Leaning in, he scrapes his teeth roughly along the stubble shadowing Will’s jaw. After a few hungry kisses to tender skin he brings his lips to Will’s ear, breath hot and frantic. “Listen to me. If it’s too much and you need an out I want you to knock three times against the headboard. Do you understand?” When Will nods he bites at his earlobe, tugging gently. “Show me.”
Will curls a shaking hand into a fist, managing to rap his knuckles three times against the polished wood.
The movement is a green light for Frederick. He immediately swings off of the bed, stripping his boxers off and tossing them somewhere in the general vicinity of the laundry basket. As soon as he’s naked he crawls back onto the mattress, laying on his back and gracelessly tugging Will on top of him.
Will groans as large hands cup his ass, kneading into taut muscle and spreading him gently. “No teasing, okay?” he begs, eyes wet with a mixture of hunger and relief. “Don’t drag it out. I just. I need to get it out of my system, I need you to make it hard and fast.”
Frederick rocks his hips up, hissing as his own prick rubs against damp skin. “I’m not fucking you without lube, if that’s what you’re asking for. That’s stupid and you won’t appreciate it once your head clears. But I’ll do the best I can to make it good for you.” He flips them again, using all of his weight to press Will into the bed. The moan that tears itself from Will's lips is encouraging, so Frederick takes his wrists back in hand and presses then down firmly.
"I'm going to give you what you need," he growls, squeezing lightly. "Gonna take you nice and hard, so you can barely think after, let alone move..." His hips are grinding down in little circles, their hard lengths trapped between their bodies in the slick heat of their skin.
Will licks his lips, squirming slightly. He's clearly eating up every word, eyes bright and eager. "Need you, need you bad..." Frederick has always loved how vocal he gets. From the first time they fucked, emotionally tender and needing each other on a level he’d never experienced before, Will had been so generous with his sighs and moans and words. It has only grown since then, only gotten easier to draw each precious whimper and cry from his lips.
"I know, I know," Frederick soothes, kissing him gently before giving a particularly bruising suck at his bottom lip. "I've got you, okay?" He reaches over, surprised to find his own hands are shaking as he reaches into the nightstand for lube. Something about this feels weirdly important-Will's been so good at keeping this part of his life private, now that Frederick is a part of it he's dedicated to not fucking it up. It's too big, too much is riding on this weekend. He's not going to let Will down.
After flipping Will into his stomach he uncaps the lube, drawing another needy gasp from his frantic boyfriend. Coating two fingers liberally, he trails his fingers down to circle Will's entrance. "What do you do if you need a break?" he asks, voice thick with desire. He knows he’s teasing, but he can’t resist a little foreplay.
"K-knock on the headboard," Will whines, trying to rock back on his fingers. His thighs are tense, body glistening with sweat. He looks for all the world like a taut bowstring about to snap.
"Good boy," Frederick growls. With no further preamble he thrusts two fingers in, pressing them deep and curling them just right. Judging by the noise Will makes he’s done his job, as his boyfriend bucks back on his fingers and nearly howls into the pillow. It makes Frederick’s stomach jolt-he’d nearly forgotten what this is all about, but that simple, haunting noise brings it all crashing back around him. Will is sick, he needs this. This isn’t just an especially thrilling wake-up call on a Saturday morning, this is the person he loves most trusting him during his most vulnerable time.
Trying to shake the feeling, Frederick sets a fast and sloppy rhythm. Will doesn’t exactly need to be stretched and prepped for any great length anymore, but he likes to make sure he’s nice and relaxed for when Frederick is inside of him. That doesn’t mean he can’t give him rough, though; bracing his forearm on the bed next to Will’s hip, Frederick leans his weight on his side so he can devote all of his strength to thrusting those long, talented fingers in over and over. When he thinks Will is ready he works in a third finger, twisting his wrist just a bit and scissoring the digits.
“C’mon….c’mon please,” Will slurs, hips weakly thrusting down against the mattress. Frederick can imagine his aching cock pressed against the sheet, leaving a sticky trail of precome as he tries to find some sort of release. “Please, fuck me, please…” He sounds so broken, Frederick feels that familiar tug on his heart that he gets whenever he’s particularly struck by just how good it feels when someone needs you.
“Alright, you’re alright,” Frederick manages, devoting himself to keeping Will calm and satisfied. He withdraws his fingers, wiping them absently on the bedspread before grabbing a condom. The little foil packet tears easily, the sound answered by another high whine from Will. Once the condom is on and his cock is slick with lube Frederick adjusts, kneeling between shaking thighs. “Hips up, chest down. Just like this,” he murmured, wide hands wrapping around slim hips. Will obeys easily, lifting onto his knees while keeping his shoulders pressed to the mattress. His back arches just so, and it’s all Frederick can do not to come at the sight of it.
It doesn’t help that Will looks over his shoulder and licks his lips, the picture of pure, mindless desire. At the sight of it Frederick is pretty sure his mind snaps and his body goes into autopilot.
Grasping his already leaking prick, Frederick thrusts aimlessly against Will’s thigh for a moment. His skin is so hot, if his wits were about him he’d think to check for a fever. His wits, however, are not about him. Stomach tight with arousal he lines up, pushing into Will with one smooth thrust.
The noise Will makes is a lovely mixture of arousal and relief, sweet beautiful relief at the thick stretch of Frederick’s cock pushing into him. With an inelegant whine he arches his back farther, wiggling his hips in an attempt to get more. More heat, more fullness, more anything. He doesn’t care what Frederick gives him as long as he doesn’t stop.
“Please, please,” he begs, licking dry lips. “So good, don’t stop…”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Frederick manages to choke out. His large hands once more find their way to Will’s hips, gripping firmly as he sets a steady rhythm with his hips. It’s not exactly the hardest or fastest he’s ever given, but with how riled they both are he’s afraid that too much too soon will set them off before they even begin. Needing to ground himself he rakes his fingertips firmly down Will’s back. No nails, nothing to draw pain or marks, just the reassuring drag of skin over skin. He watches as Will’s flesh dimples under his fingers, as it turns a soft pink at the attention. He’s always been amazingly receptive, his body responds so quickly to any stimulus...Frederick repeats the action, eyes drinking in every change, every shift in the body below him.
For his part Will is eagerly trying to speed things up, to chase the release he’s needed since the moment he woke up just a short while ago. He’s not looking for soft and sweet-there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now all he wants is hard, and sure, and frantic. Lifting one shaking hand, he spits in his palm before reaching down to grasp his own erection. “Harder,” he groans, his free hand moving to brace against the headboard.
Frederick watches with ravenous eyes as the muscles of Will’s back ripple and shift, as his hand disappears below. He’s practically mindless, going purely on instinct in pursuit of what will bring his aching body release. It’s beautiful, and overwhelming, and terrifying, and Frederick’s mind doesn’t quite know what to make of everything. Instead of dwelling on it he slides his hands up Will’s sides, feeling the jut of his ribs, the sharp ridges of his scapula. Fingers curl around tense shoulders, using them as leverage to pull Will back onto each punishing thrust of his hips.
It’s not graceful or romantic, and the only loving thing about it is the way Frederick’s body aches to give Will the pleasure he so desperately craves.
Trailing one shaking hand down and under, Frederick lets his fingers tease over all the delicate spots he knows Will is particularly fond of. He presses his fingers just below Will’s sac, eyes widening at the sounds he earns for his trouble. “Yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” Will gasps, tensing up. “Oh yeah.”
Frederick continues to tease the sensitive area before moving up to cup his balls, stroking them gently despite the way every other movement is hard and precise. He can feel Will slipping, can see it in the way his head lolls forwards and his hips cant up even further. His entire body is humming with raw energy, fingers curling against dark-stained wood and hair bouncing each time his body is jerked forward.
“Come on, let go for me,” Frederick begs, sinking his teeth into his own already-swollen bottom lip. “I know you want to, come on Will…”
Will’s only response is a frantic nod, a tense sort of bearing-down as he tries to get every inch of Frederick’s length. When Frederick angles his hips just so and gives a particularly hard thrust he breaks. The hand he had wrapped around his dick lets go, slamming up to the headboard and knocking it into the wall hard enough to crack plaster. His body contorts in a way that doesn’t look completely comfortable, head thrown back and eyes snapping shut as he screams his release to the ceiling.
When he’s finished he collapses, falling to the bed below.
The movement causes Frederick to slip out, a pained gasp falling from his lips. He quickly takes his prick in hand, stroking firmly to match the pace his hips had set. Stormy green eyes travel over Will’s spent body, taking in the light sheen of sweat and the way his lips part as he pants to catch his breath. After a moment their eyes meet and Frederick comes with a broken moan, spilling into the condom as his body curls in on itself.
After such a frenzied rush of activity the room feels still, silent. The only sounds are their laboured breaths, the beating of their own hearts in their ears. Frederick reaches over to slide his palm along Will’s thigh, relishing in the way his muscles tic from exertion.
“Was that okay?” he manages to pant, eyebrows knit as he studies Will’s face. He’s worried about so many things; being too much, being not enough...
Will’s lips curl into a smile, lazy and satisfied. He lazily raises one hand, winding tender fingers through the damp curls of Frederick’s hair. “That was excellent.”
*
Will wakes up Sunday with a fever that Frederick can’t seem to break, no matter how hard he tries. He starts with tons of cool drinks, juices, popsicles, anything that might reduce Will’s temperature a few notches. By lunchtime it still sits at 104, Will’s skin red and burning everywhere he touches him. His own heart is starting to race, an awful sort of panic settling in his gut. What does he do if it doesn’t end? He can’t exactly take Will to a hospital, not tonight. What does he do?
“It’s normal,” Will slurs, looking weary. He keeps trying to get up, to go about life as normal, but Frederick keeps insisting he return to bed and rest. “It’s just my body getting ready for the shift. It happens every month.”
The idea of Will dealing with this every thirty days, alone and miserable, makes Frederick’s heart stick in his throat. Instead of dwelling on it he draws a cool bath, dragging Will into it and not letting him leave until the water itself turns tepid.
After a few minutes of complaining Will sinks into the bath, resigning himself to the chill. “I can’t imagine this weekend has been very fun for you,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “It’s always weird just before it happens, and each time is a little bit different.”
Frederick snorts from his seat on the closed toilet lid, arms folded as he rests back against the tank. “Don’t be ridiculous. Yesterday we had sex and ate all day, that was definitely fun. And while I’m not happy that you’re sick right now, it’s not exactly a chore to take care of my boyfriend when he isn’t feeling well.” He closes his eyes, giving a yawn that cracks his jaw. “I just hate that you’re so used to doing this alone when you ought to have someone around to give you a hand.”
Will smiles fondly, a fuzzy sort of happiness filling his chest despite how sick he feels. “Yeah, well. You know me, I’m stubborn about fending for myself.”
Frederick makes a noise that clearly says, You are, and it’s annoying as shit. Will laughs, sinking down to completely submerge himself in the water.
A few hours pass before Will finally starts to sweat and his body temperature begins to cool. At this point Frederick is attending to every minor change of his body like a mother hen, feeling his forehead, checking his pulse, asking him random questions to make sure he’s lucid.
“Our postal code is K-zero-M-one-X-zero, now stop,” Will huffs, waving him away. “You’re moving around too much, it’s making me dizzy.”
Frederick sits, lifting Will’s head into his lap and massaging his fingers into the tension of his neck. He’s clearly getting irritable, and Frederick has no idea if it’s because of the fever or because it’s almost night fall. Will is never anything but docile and complacent, it’s an interesting change. He hates the level of discomfort Will is in, but he secretly relishes seeing the fighting side of his usually timid boyfriend.
Stroking Will’s curls, Frederick glances at the clock. “What time does it usually happen?” he asks, feeling anxiety start to build low in his stomach.
Will lifts his head, trying to make sense of the clock on the wall without his glasses. “Does that say three? Probably two hours or so. Right at sundown, as soon as you can’t see the light anymore.” There’s no trace of fear or nervousness in his voice, just a simple acceptance of facts. He lays his head back down, wiggling until Frederick begins to pet his hair again.
“And you said you’re lucid when it happens?”
“M-hm. Wish I wasn’t, doesn’t feel good.”
Frederick nods, falling silent for a few minutes. He tried to do some research online, but my boyfriend is a werewolf what can i expect and how do i support him isn’t a search that turns up many results on Google (he got a bunch of hits about Teen Wolf and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which only made him want to marathon the latter on Netflix). Ever since Will admitted his affliction, trembling and begging Frederick to believe him, he’d spent nights awake wondering what it was like to see Will change before his eyes. He’d never gotten the opportunity though, as Will had always kept that aspect of himself as far away as possible. Now he was here, and it was going to happen, and could he go through with this? What if it was horrifying? What if Will could sense his trepidation?
As if he can sense Frederick’s nerves, Will cuts through his internal monologue.
“It means a lot that you want to be here for this,” he breathes, letting his eyes flutter shut. Frederick’s fingers, clever and agile from years of knitting and creating, feel like an anchor as they weave through his hair. “I’m sure it’s totally weird and probably a little terrifying, it’s just...this is the last part of me that you don’t know about. And if you get to see it, then you’ve seen all of me.”
Frederick looks down, studying Will’s face. He looks calmer than he has all weekend, the frustration of the past hours seeming to have melted away.
“Well...I love you,” he replies slowly. “And you’re right, this isn’t something you need to hide from me. I’m not going to bolt, I’m going to stay right by your side.”
Will nods, fingers tracing the denim of Frederick’s jeans. “I know. Thanks.”
Frederick tugs fondly at Will’s hair, nodding. “Try to get some sleep. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”
*
At four-thirty they eat an early dinner, Will ravenously clearing his plate while Frederick pushes his food around with a trembling fork. He tries to distract himself by clearing the dishes, wiping down the counters, anything to keep himself busy. Will is starting to pace around the house like a wild animal, collecting whatever soft fabrics or comforting items he can find and gathering them in the living room. At one point he comes down with one of Frederick’s best alpaca scarves, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Sure, of course,” Frederick says, nodding quickly. “I mean if you chew it up I’m going to hit you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper…”
The barking laugh Will emits isn’t quite right, but he tries not to focus on it. He watches as Will brings down their new duvet, a few pillows, and one of his own shirts before he’s satisfied with the random mess strewn about their living room.
At five twenty-five Will strips his clothes off, adding them to the pile of random fabrics and comfort items.
Frederick checks his watch. Three minutes.
“Is there anything else you need? Should I put water out?” he asks anxiously.
“I can turn the faucet on in the sink, if I need it,” Will responds, taking a deep breath.
Two minutes.
“You’ll go upstairs if anything gets weird, right?”
“My boyfriend is a werewolf, what exactly is the line where things are too weird?”
One minute.
“I love you,” Will says softly, timidly.
“I love you too,” Frederick breathes.
For the last few seconds they wait in silence, eyes glued to the clock.
At five twenty-eight Will emits a shrill whine, falling to his knees and doubling over onto the carpet. It looks a bit like he’s going to vomit, and Frederick vaguely wonders if he should run and grab a garbage pail. He’s terrified though, glued to the spot. His heart is already pounding in his chest and they’ve only just begun. Each nerve in his body is screaming for him to go to Will, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he snaps out of it.
Instead he backs out of the way, practically falling onto the couch.
The high sound Will has been making breaks off, turning into a panting gasp. He seems pained, like something inside of him is twisting and moving, as if his skin doesn’t quite fit his frame anymore. Long fingers dig into the carpet, plucking at the fibers and clawing helplessly at some of the random items he’s brought down. He crawls to where there coffee table usually sits, now moved safely into the kitchen to give Will space to change.
“Oh my God...fuck!” he grits out, falling to his side.
Frederick hasn’t been terrified like this since he was a child, those early years when every shadow was a monster and there were gremlins hiding under his bed. Now the monster is right in front of him, and all he cares about is how to end this pain for him. He can barely stand to watch the way Will’s face contorts in utter torment, his brows knitting together and sweat breaking out along his temples. Every movement is an erratic jerk, somehow exactly mirroring the way Frederick’s heart leaps and twitches in its cage of ribs.
He usually does this alone. The thought makes Frederick sick.
“I’m here Will. I’m right here,” he manages, voice breaking as it escapes his throat.
Will cries out, nodding frantically. As Frederick continues to watch him he tries to crawl closer, only making it a foot or so before he once more collapses to the ground.
It’s at this point that Frederick begins to notice his body changing. His feet, already large for his stature, somehow look longer. His hands are bigger, shoulders sharper and limbs set at a slightly awkward angle. There is one brief moment where Will is just this side of wrong, when things snap. Frederick gasps, eyes going wide as bright blue irises seem to turn a vivid gold, wild as they look about the room. Now his spine is far too long, and his normally freckled skin is a bizarre sort of gray that no human being should be.
Nails grow. Teeth elongate. Ears shift back.
There is a flurry of movement, another pained shriek, and then the voice he loves so well is replaced by a deep growl and a pathetic, animal whine.
And then his boyfriend is gone, and he is sitting in his living room with a thin, mangy, hungry looking wolf.
*
Time stretches on. Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours, and though it’s only been a few tense moments Frederick feels as if he’s been sitting on this couch for weeks. He sits impossibly still, afraid that even breathing might snap the tension in the room and cause some sort of destructive force that he won’t be able to contain.
This is Will, but not Will at all. The wolf is small, frail looking. Definitely not the kind you’d see in nature documentaries extolling the glories of the canus lupis in its natural habitat. Instead it’s the one who would trail stealthily on the outskirts of the pack, waiting for castoffs and picking no fights with the alpha. The one who is constantly underfed and searching.
Hungry animals are always the most dangerous.
Another long minute stretches by before either of them move. With a huff the wolf turns in a circle, flops onto the pile of clothing and blankets, and eyes Frederick out of the corner of his eye.
That’s Will.
“Are you...are you sulking?” Frederick asks, giving a disbelieving laugh. The wolf huffs once more, wriggling around until his back is to the man on the couch. “Oh come on,” he laughs. The tension is broken. Frederick slides to the carpet, crawling closer until he’s sitting on his feet at Will’s side. His hands are still shaking as he reaches out, sliding his fingers through the thick fur of his back. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t jump to roll around on the ground and play fetch with you. My boyfriend just turned into a fucking werewolf. Nothing really prepares you for the first time you see that.”
The wolf grumbles, snapping his teeth half-heartedly.
“I’m shaking,” Frederick replies blandly. “Look, will you forgive me if I make you a steak or something?”
At that Will lifts his head, ears perking up.
“Yeah, I thought so. Come on.”
*
Obnoxiously bright mid-morning rays of sun burst into the living room and across Frederick’s face. With a vague sort of sneer he throws his arm across his eyes, trying to turn towards the back of the couch. A warm body stops him, and he opens his eyes.
Will is laying half across him, firmly wedged between Frederick and the couch, naked and warm. His arm is slung over Frederick’s hips, fingertips hanging down to brush the carpet below. He looks gloriously human. His skin is tan and freckled, auburn curls their usual mess on top of his head and hands and feet just as they should be. His cheeks aren’t hollow, he isn’t pale, and he isn’t a fucking wolf.
“Hey,” Frederick whispers, softly rubbing a naked thigh. “Hey, wake up.”
Will sighs, trying to move closer. “Mmmno. Turned into a wolf last night. Sleep.”
“I know, I was there,” Frederick reminds him, teasingly pinching his ass. “Wake up and I’ll make you pancakes.”
At that Will opens one (beautifully blue) eye. “And bacon?”
Frederick laughs. “And bacon. Come on wolf boy.”
Frederick makes Will shower while he cooks breakfast. He loves the boy, but god damn he smells horrendous after a sweaty night of changing back and forth between man and beast. By the time Will comes out he’s clean with delightfully fluffy hair and flushed skin, and the table is piled high with pancakes, bacon, and mugs of hot coffee.
“This looks amazing,” Will breathes. He checks the clock; his class schedule is empty on Mondays but Frederick has some later classes to attend.
“I called in sick, don’t worry,” Frederick assures him. “My professor said he’ll count it as one absence since it’s consecutive with my last one.”
“You really don’t have to do that, I’m fine,” Will argues. “I’m used to this by now, remember? I just need to rest a bit today, I’ll be back to class tomorrow.” He falls into a chair, carrying himself like every muscle in his body is aching and raw. Frederick decides to give him the most epic massage he can manage later.
“And so will I,” Frederick says, shrugging. “Today I’m going to stay home and make sure you recover just fine. Now eat your fucking breakfast.”
They fall into a comfortable silence, the soft scrape of forks on plates the only noise filling the kitchen. Every now and then one or the other will look up, catch his boyfriend’s eyes, and smile shyly. Something has shifted and they both feel it. There are no more walls.
Once everything is cleaned up Frederick pulls Will into his arms, resting his chin on a bony shoulder. “I’m going to knit for a bit. Why don’t you come lay on the couch and watch Oddities with me?”
Will nods, sinking into solid arms. There’s no fear, no trepidation in the way Frederick holds him. Everything is legitimately alright.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, head buzzing with the pleasant knowledge that he has nothing left to hide. “Yeah, that sounds pretty perfect.”