Based off the first season episode "Butch Comes to Shove" (don'cha love those titles?) with a slightly modified ending. Seriously, as soon as I saw it, I was attacked by a plot bunny. I know – it doesn't really go with the rest of the episode at all, but leave me my random slash plot bunnies, okay?
DISCLAIMER: This stuff? Yeah. Don't own. No way.
COCONUT
The only thing Merton can really focus on, between the snippets of the Tommy vs Butch confrontation, is the tight curl of arm around his neck – the suffocating pressure of elbow against his windpipe. Oh, and the brass knuckles. Can't forget those. He eyes them warily and tries not to gulp.
"Okay," he pipes up because he's a nervous babbler, "my neck is very brittle. I didn't drink much milk as a child." In response to his pleas, Butch tightens his choke hold even further. Merton decides, at that moment, not to talk anymore. He widens his stare and gives Tommy his best 'save me, I'm pathetic' pout.
Tommy's not used to actually having to bargain Merton free from bullies and he panics. "Butch – you get back in that movie and you leave us alone." As if there's really a way for him to enforce his empty order. Merton struggles half-heartedly; he pulls at Butch's arm, all the while watching the brass knuckles poised a few mere inches from his arguably beautiful face.
"No chance, chump," Butch spits – literally, Merton can feel it on his face and, behind his initial disgusted cringe he makes a mental post-it to mock Butch for his dated slang. But only once he's free and hiding behind Tommy's shoulder. Where it's safe. "I only came out here," Butch continues, "because I wanted a companion to bring back. But you – you gotta make things screwy for me!"
There's a pause and Tommy relaxes a little, a knowing half-smirk on his face, as he tilts his head to one side. Merton narrows his eyes at the sudden change, wondering what exactly is going on.
"C'mon Butch," Tommy persuades – his voice all thinly veiled conspiracy. "You don't have it so bad in your movie. Mary's a beautiful girl, y'know." Butch relaxes his arm ever-so-slightly as he considers Tommy's words and Merton gets it – gets what Tommy's doing.
"Yeah, I guess she's all right," Butch agrees slowly. Merton tests his chances and tries to twist out from under him. Without even pausing in the conversation, without even looking at him, Butch renews the choke hold. "But, between you and me, she's not a whole lot of fun, if you get what I mean."
And Merton barely breathes a hysterical half-giggle before things get really weird. Butch moves his fist – the one adorned with the ever-looming brass knuckles – and trails his thumb ever-so-softly down the curve of Merton's cheek. "Not like this one would be, I bet. He's all soft, man, just like a girl. If you get what I'm sayin'," All of this is said with Butch staring straight at Merton – focused first on his petrified eyes and then on his lips. "What do you think?" Butch asks, turning his attention to the now fuming werewolf standing in front of them, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Really, Merton figures he should be gravely, irrevocably insulted by being compared to a girl, but he's a little busy freaking out. "Let him go, Butch." Each word is ground out as its own sentence. Tommy looks ready to murder and Butch just laughs.
"Whaddaya gonna do, Fido? I got your friend and there aint no way you can stop me from keepin' him." Then Butch makes his final mistake of the night; he presses his nose into Merton's hair and inhales deeply. "Well. What do you know," he cajoles with a bright smile, "even smells like a girl! Hey, what is that anyway?" He sniffs again and Merton closes his eyes in embarrassment. "Vanilla?"
The only word Merton can think of to describe Tommy's war howl is "thundering" – and that doesn't do it true justice. He can feel it through every inch of his body – echoing in his bones. Even Butch, the unshakable, is intimidated. He's startled enough to loosen his hold just so that Merton can dive out of the way as Tommy charges.
Merton ends up tangled and sprawled in a dusty row of theater seats, choking on cobwebs and residual rinds of hysteria. He inhales deeply and gags on the pervading stench of musty velvet. The fight is short lived, characterized by angry shouts and pained grunts and finally, a drawn-out yell and the skidding sound of a body sliding across a tiled surface at an alarming speed (a sound Merton has become all too familiar with, having lived it many times during his high school life) as Butch is forcibly reintroduced to his old movie set.
There are wolfy paws on his arms, helping him stand and brushing off his shirt. Merton smiles a little shakily as Tommy takes his face in his hands and turns his head this way and that to check for injuries. "I'm fine, Tommy, really," he soothes quietly as Tommy folds him in his arms, practically purring. Over Tommy's shoulder, Merton can see the damage done to the movie world. Butch is struggling to get up and one of the doors leading to the cafeteria is cracked and dented. "Can't say the same about our black and white friend though," Merton jokes weakly as Tommy combs his fingers gently through his spiky hair. "You really did a number on him, big guy."
"Coconut," Tommy declares, still cradling him against his shoulder.
"Uh," Merton blinks in confusion, "pineapple?"
"No," Tommy smiles as he takes a step back, his arms wound loosely around the other's slight waist. "You don't smell like vanilla. You smell like coconut." Merton stammers a giggle through his blush as Tommy pulls him back into a solid embrace. "S'nice," he comments, nuzzling against his neck.
Merton stands there, feeling a little awkward with his arms pinned at his sides, as Tommy attempts to physically mold the two of them together. His fingers start to twitch against his thighs while Tommy breathes in the feel of him. It takes Merton a second to realize that Tommy's using his actual scent – his organic coconut shampoo and hair gel – to calm down and dewolf.
"I knew you liked my shampoo so much," he comments softly, "I would have let you borrow it."
"It's not just your shampoo, Merton." Tommy counters with his eyes closed. He's back to human now, but he still hasn't let go. "It's all of you." Merton sighs and rests his head on Tommy's chest, fisting his hands in the fabric of his shirt. In response, Tommy tightens his arms around him. They stand like that for a little while longer, basking the realness of each other, until Merton finally lifts his head.
"C'mon, we better get going." Tommy hums a sigh of what Merton assumes is agreement or, at the very least, positive acknowledgment, but makes no effort to mobilize. "Tommy," he whines, standing on tip-toe and craning his neck to see eye to eye. "Let's go."
"All right," he rubs his nose against Merton's before giving him a brief, firm kiss on the mouth. "But we better grab the film reel first."
"Just what I was thinking," he smiles, brushing his lips against Tommy's in a chaste caress. "We don't want to run into Butch again."
(scene)
So. My first (and probably only) Big Wolf on Campus story. Do I smoke crack? Sometimes. Maybe. Not gonna lie. Like I said above, I don't own anything vaguely related to Big Wolf on Campus. But I do wish I owned Merton's hair products. Organic coconut shampoo? Doesn't that sound fun?