A/N: just a bit of Connor-centric fluffy slash because it's Andrew-Lee Potts' birthday today and we've only got two days to go until Halloween! Happy early Halloween to everybody and happy birthday to ALP!
Connor's life was, in a word, awesome. He knew for a fact that he was doing way better than other people his age.
He had a job—chasing dinosaurs, not to mention.
He had a flat—well, it was technically his and Stephen's flat.
He had friends—who doubled as teammates and fellow dinosaur-wranglers, too.
He had a boyfriend—Stephen bloody Hart, any woman's (or man's) desire.
And his boyfriend was a werewolf.
Yeah, he was doing pretty awesome.
"A man who's pure of heart
And says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf
When the autumn moon is bright."
—"Howl," Florence + the Machine
Connor had found out about Stephen's little "condition" a few months after they'd been dating. He had noticed a few of the tracker's odd quirks, like how twitchy he got during the week of the full moon, how he always ordered his steak rare enough to still moo, and how he would take regular injections, though he never had a proper prescription for it. He knew that there was something very odd about Stephen Hart, but he didn't want to risk spoiling a good relationship by pointing it out and demanding an explanation. If Stephen wanted to tell him about it, then he would in his own time, when he felt comfortable doing so.
And he was right, too. One night, during a post-shag cuddle, Connor lazily began tracing the faint ghost marks on the inner crease of Stephen's elbow where he injected himself. They never scarred and always faded quickly. The tracker asked quietly, "Why don't you ever ask about it?"
"Because you'll tell me if you want to," Connor answered.
"Would you like to know why?"
He nodded against the other man's shoulder.
Stephen pressed his lips to the top of Connor's hair. "I can tell you, but you have to promise me that you'll not tell anybody else. Not even Cutter knows. Understand?" he murmured quietly.
Connor swallowed hard. If not even Cutter knew, then this wasn't the normal kind of secret, this was more like the…take-to-the-grave kind of thing. "Right. Okay. Promise, Stephen. I promise," he murmured.
Stephen explained to him about his condition. That was what he called it. Not a curse or a blessing or anything like that. Just a condition. Something that he was born with and couldn't change, like his blood type. It was hereditary, not transmitted through bite like it was in the films. He had been taught how to control it since he was a boy; the injection he took was extract of monkshood—also known as wolfsbane. It was the only thing that could stop the change during the full moon, when the impulse was strongest. Usually he didn't take it—monkshood was toxic and made him feel ill—but he didn't want to risk Connor finding out by vanishing for three nights out of the month. He didn't change only during the full moon, that was another bit of human fiction. Technically, he could change anytime he wanted to, though it was much harder to do in full daylight or any strong light, being a nocturnal predator, but during the full moon, the impulse to slip his skin was so strong it was impossible to resist.
"So you took a poisonous injection instead of telling me?" Connor demanded, sitting bolt upright in horror. "Stephen! If you overdosed on that stuff, death would be instantaneous. We wouldn't even be able to help you! What were you thinking?" he cried.
The tracker stared up at him in bafflement. "I-I dunno. This isn't something that you can just bring up in a normal relationship, Connor. I don't like to travel, I'm allergic to cats, and hey, I can turn into a wolf."
Connor sighed. "That's not the point, Stephen. You wouldn't have even had to tell me, you could've just said that you wanted a few nights to yourself, and I'd have understood."
At that, Stephen smiled a little, running one hand up the geek's naked back. "But I don't want the nights to myself."
"Don't try and sweet-talk your way out of this one, Hart," Connor admonished, though a faint smile still played at the corners of his mouth. "No more of that toxic crap, got it? I'm serious."
Stephen's hand stilled against his back, the playful look sliding away and turning harder, more serious. "You sure you can handle the change, then?" he asked quietly. It was asking a lot. More than a lot. He'd been in relationships with other-than-human individuals before, though none who were like him. Even for those born into the otherworldly sort of life, seeing him change was uncomfortable and more often than not, a deal-breaker. One ex-girlfriend had thrown up when she first watched. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to stand losing Connor because of it, which was why he'd started taking the monkshood in the first place.
Connor gave him a small smile. "One way to find out, eh?"
"What a big heart I have!
The better to love you with,
Little red riding hood,
Even bad wolves can be good."
—"Little Red Riding Hood," Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs
"Thought you said the monkshood stopped the change," Connor said faintly as Stephen began stripping off his clothes. He had pushed the sofa out of the way and opened the blinds, allowing the moonlight to pool in a large section of open floor. With the lights all off, it was the only illumination in the flat.
"No. It just makes it easier to resist. But it's the full moon. It'll be alright," Stephen informed him quietly, his voice soft and almost resigned, as if he expected to be left already, which made Connor uneasy. It wasn't that bad, was it?
Taking a deep breath, Stephen took a step forward into the moonlight. Despite the gravity of the situation, Connor was certain he might've drooled a little, because any man, no matter the sexuality, had to go gay at the sight of a naked Stephen Hart. It was practically a law of nature.
For a moment, nothing happened, but then he saw the tracker shiver all over the place. His skin actually rippled, as though something moved beneath the surface, and then dark fur began sprouting from every inch of exposed skin. Stephen went to all fours as his muscles began changing, thickening in his shoulders and arms, along his back. A faint yet audible grinding noise could be heard as human bones rearranged to a canine skeleton. His face pushed out into a muzzle, teeth sharpening and lengthening, tail sprouting from the base of his spine. And just like that, Stephen was gone and a large wolf was crouched in his place. The entire transformation took only a few seconds, but it unfolded almost in slow-motion to his audience of one.
Connor sat down heavily in the armchair, having to take a few deep breaths in order to steady himself. Okay...let's assess, he thought to himself. Werewolves were real. Obviously. But then again, he'd always sort of believed that all those legends had to come from somewhere and after Cutter started tying mythological beasts to the appearance of anomalies, he believed in it a bit more. And his boyfriend was one. Yeah, that was...huge. A shock, certainly, but not a horror. It didn't seem half as bad as Stephen made it out to be. The change itself was...weird, but not gross. Sort of cool, actually.
And Stephen made a very handsome wolf. His fur was a rich, warm brown, echoing the colour of his hair, lightening to a honey colour on his legs and paws, a reddish tinge in the folds of his ruff and the backs of his ears. Darker russet markings formed a mask around slanted eyes that were the same shade of blue as his human form's. There were a few scars on his shoulders and sides where the fur didn't quite lie flat, a long-healed slash across his muzzle, and his left ear had a notch taken out of it, as if a set of very sharp teeth had only just grazed him. At first glance, he almost looked like a big husky or malamute, but the arch of his neck and the tight angle of his ears bespoke of wilder origins. He was also a very big wolf, probably as tall as a man when standing on his hind legs, weighing a good 80 kilos, easily.
The wolf—Stephen, it was still Stephen—let out a soft, almost inaudible whine, ears pinning back against his head, slinking low to the ground. Connor realised that he was waiting for a response and was mistaking silence for dislike. Silly git, he thought fondly, then slid forward off the armchair to kneel on the floor. He held out one hand and clicked his tongue softly, as if to an actual dog. "Here, boy. Come to sweet Connor," he cooed softly.
Stephen's ears pricked forward, cocking his head in surprise, and he slowly padded towards the geek, claws clicking on the hardwood floors. His cool, damp nose touched Connor's fingertips, and then he pushed his muzzle into Connor's hand, resting his jaw against the young man's palm. His heavy tail wagged once, blue eyes looking up at the geek uncertainly, waiting for the shoe to drop.
A soft grin came to his face, and Connor gently began to rub his fingers into the silky soft fur under his jaw. He'd never been so close to a living wolf before. Actually, he'd never been this close to a wolf, period. He'd seen a taxidermy one in the museum when he was a kid, but that was weak tea when compared to a living, breathing animal that was probably taller than him on its hind legs. He started to lift a hand to Stephen's head, then paused. "Is, erm…is it okay if I…? You're not gonna bite or anything?" he asked.
The wolf actually rolled his eyes, a ludicrously human expression for an animal to make. His lips drew back from his teeth, and it would have been a most fearsome expression, but then his jaw opened and a red tongue lolled out the side of his mouth in a canine grin, tail wagging again.
Connor rested his hand atop Stephen's head between his ears. His fur was surprisingly soft, and the undercoat was both silky and fluffy at the same time. Gently, he began to stroke his hand down Stephen's neck, raking his fingers into the thick ruff of fur around his shoulders and chest. Oh my God, I'm petting a wolf. "So…this is definitely different," he said at last, and the wolf cocked its ears towards him, head tilting in a distinctly inquisitive motion. "But not bad different. Just...different. And nowhere near as bad as you made it out to be, Mr. Dramatic," he added, tweaking one of Stephen's ears.
The wolf huffed a little, rolling his eyes again.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So...yeah, it's different, but I could get used to it," Connor informed him quietly. "I mean, c'mon, Stephen, I chase dinosaurs for a living. You think a little old thing like you being a werewolf is gonna throw me for a loop? You underestimate me, sir. No more of that poison stuff, okay? I mean it. Now that I've seen all of you, I certainly think I can handle it. But I'm gonna tell you right now," he said firmly, wagging a finger in front of Stephen's muzzle, "you end up with fleas, you're sleeping outside."
Stephen jerked his head back, either in shock at Connor's ability to make a joke at a time like this or indignity at the implication he would ever allow himself to get fleas. But then his tongue lolled out again in that wolfish grin, tail wagging double-time. Connor let out a surprised oof as he was suddenly knocked back to the floor, a long, raspy tongue licking his face from chin to hairline.
"Oh, gross! Stephen! Stop it!" he laughed in mixed disgust and delight, pushing against the furry body that had him pinned down.
Letting out a little coughing bark that sounded for all the world like laughter, the wolf let him up and instead lay down on the hardwood floors beside him, resting his shaggy head across Connor's thigh. The geek ran a hand down Stephen's back, shaking his head fondly. "You big git," he repeated in a soft voice. "You already know that I love you, why would this make a difference? And besides, I'm getting the better part of this deal anyways." The wolf looked up at him curiously, flicking an ear.
Connor grinned. "I get the Big Bad Wolf and the huntsman all in one."
Stephen rolled his eyes in exasperation, but his tail was thumping on the floor nonetheless.
"Hey there, Big Bad Wolf,
You've been following me through the woods.
You are the guy that I've been searching for."
—"Big Bad Wolf," The Shamettes
So, Connor Temple was indeed doing a lot better than most young people of his age and means.
He had a good job, a place to live, a steady relationship, and good friends.
And just because his job involved dinosaurs, his flat was shared with a wolf, his boyfriend was said werewolf, and his friends were probably all certifiably mad and chased dinosaurs with him didn't mean that his life was any less satisfying.