Grif shut the door to the little shack he called home with a relieved sigh and watched wearily as Wash stumbled into the small living space.
The new werewolf had followed after him like an eager pup after their little altercation in the woods, which wasn't all that surprising under the circumstances. But damn, Grif hated pulling that Alpha wolf bullshit on others. He'd seen how what kind of damage that power could have and he'd sworn to himself to use it as little as possible in order to keep from repeating the mistakes of the past.
But it wasn't like he'd had a choice. Wash was a mess, more than he realized. Now that Grif had spent some time with him, even the short half hour's walk back to the ranch, he could smell the sickness on him. He'd been turned into a werewolf, but nothing about the process had been right. He didn't seem to feel like he fit in his own skin and his emotions were all over the place, jumping from one to the next. But even as he seesawed from rage to curiosity and on to confusion, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of fear.
Worst of all, Grif could almost hear the wolf in Wash's head and see it pushing him to lash out and fight.
The wolf shouldn't still be a separate force, not after the first full moon. The instincts and drive of the wolf should have faded into Wash's mind until they were one being, a seamless blend of human and wolf. Instead, the wolf was fighting back, resisting integration. It raged and craved the blood of the people who had hurt him. It was astonishing, really, that Wash hadn't been consumed by that seething animalistic rage.
The first few months of a newly turned werewolf's life should be exciting and full of wonder. Yes, there was danger and risk, but it was all manageable. What had been done to Wash was horrific and wrong. And fuck Tex for dumping this problem on him.
This was a really shitty way to start the day.
Leaving the door behind, Grif hurried after Wash and steered him towards the small kitchenette. The ranch hand house he lived in was small. There was room for several employees, but Sarge hadn't hired anyone new since Grif had joined him. Which meant Grif had the space all to himself, something that came in handy every time Tex found some random werewolf who needed looking after for a short while.
Pushing Wash down onto one of the stools tucked against the counter, Grif cast a quick look over the kitchenette. Spotting the bag of clementines Simmons had brought him a few days earlier, he grabbed a few and put them down in front of Wash.
"Here's the deal," Grif began, carefully watching Wash's face. "Eat these, then go take a fucking nap. There's a bathroom and a bunkroom. Not hard to find. Take whatever bunk you want, just leave mine alone. I'll be back in a few hours. Just stay here and don't go anywhere, alright?"
Wash nodded slowly, his eyes still a bit glassy from how Grif had mind-whammied him into submission earlier.
Shuddering, Grif offered the man a silent apology. God-DAMN did Grif hate doing that. He had a hunch Wash wouldn't be susceptible to an Alpha's influence in the future, but that didn't make it any less cringy that Grif could subvert the man's own will for now. Hopefully it would be the last time. Food and proper rest should do wonders to get Wash started on the road to recovery.
While Wash started slowly peeling the clementines with clumsy hands, Grif disappeared into the bunk room and changed into his work clothes - which primarily meant putting on a heavier shirt and a pair of steel toed boots. Grabbing his phone, he paused long enough to check on Wash before heading out. Hopefully, Wash would do what he was told and go take a fucking nap. And if Grif was really lucky, he'd be out long enough for Grif to put together a list of supplies and see what he could get from the ranch and what he needed Kai to fetch for them.
The main house was only a few dozen yards from the bunk house. And as Grif drew closer, he could smell breakfast. He immediately picked up the pace. Wash had eaten his energy bar. He was fucking hungry.
"Took you long enough," Simmons barked when he breezed into the kitchen.
"What can I say, there are just days when your bed is too comfy to leave," Grif replied in an airy voice. Simmons' scent shifted slightly when Grif mentioned his bed - a brief flash of excitement, a rush of embarrassment, and a whole truck load of anxiety. As always, Grif pretended he didn't have such a deep insight into the other man's moods and simply carried on.
"Good morning, Grif!" Donut greeted him cheerfully from the stove where he was cooking a simple but hearty meal. Beaming, the still-reedy teenager gave him a happy wave.
Grif gave him a wordless grunt as way of greeting, focusing instead of pouring himself a cup of coffee. After dumping some sweetener into the mug, he dropped down into the chair next to Simmons and took a long sip. God, today sucked.
"Sarge is already out in the field," Simmons reported as Grif relaxed next to him. "He wants to get more of the fence replaced today, so make sure you take your gloves with you."
"Gloves," Grif repeated blankly.
Letting out an aggravated sound, Simmons jerked his head towards the end of the table. Sure enough, there were his heavy work gloves. "I went ahead and found them for you so you can get right to work after breakfast," he said pointedly.
"Thanks, Simmons, sounds great," Grif sighed. Damn it. He needed a nap, and vanishing while looking for his gear would have been so perfect… Glancing over, Grif squinted at the redhead sitting next to him. "Dude, what crawled up your ass this morning? Your posture's all twisted and shit."
Face flushing, Simmons went rigid, then deliberately gave himself a small shake, forcibly relaxing his tense shoulder so it wasn't sitting several inches higher than the other one. "I'm fine. Just… I have a big paper due on Monday," he mumbled staring down into his weird vegan oatmeal breakfast.
"You've written plenty of papers over the last year and a half without freaking out," Grif argued with narrowed eyes.
There was a faint sound of metal scraping tile as Simmons shifted his legs under the table and his prosthetic scraped the floor. "I didn't get as much done on it last night as I'd planned. I got distracted when some wolves started howling outside. No one could work with all that racket.
Right. Grif cringed slightly inside. He and Kai had probably gotten a bit carried away last night. It had just been such a great night - cloudless, the air just starting to get cool, and the moon glowing so bright overhead… It had been the perfect night to hunt and play.
"You just wanted an excuse to procrastinate," Grif replied after a moment. "Besides, if some weird random wolves went on the attack, they're going to get me way before they get to you. I'm in a goddamned shack, remember? The walls on this fucking house are, like, a solid foot thick and pure stone. Plus, you have Sarge's doomsday weapon horde to defend yourself with."
That was the real issue, after all, wasn't it? Simmons had heard him and Kai howling outside and his anxiety had cranked up to eleven while visions of attacking ravening beasts played through his mind. He supposed it was an understandable reaction given Simmons' situation.
Unaware of Grif's internal musings, Simmons smirked slightly and some of the tension surrounding him eased off at their familiar banter. "Yeah, I guess they'd gorge themselves on your fat ass and pass out, wouldn't they?"
Grif pointed an accusatory finger at Simmons. "I am not fat," he said in a severe voice. "I am big boned."
"Bones aren't that big, dummy."
"Come on, guys, that's enough boner talk!" Donut suddenly interrupted. He beamed as he slid a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Grif. "We can pick this up tonight and really have some action!"
"Donut!" Simmons exclaimed.
The younger man simply grinned at them as he settled down to eat his own breakfast. Donut had moved in just a few months earlier, eagerly jumping at Sarge's offer of housing as a way to keep costs down while he went to school. One year in the campus dorms had been enough for him.
Grif and Simmons were still getting used to Sarge's several-steps-removed nephew, and the tale Sarge had sput describing exactly how they were related had gone up and down the family tree, through multiple divorces and remarriages, a few adoptions, and a worrying number of assumed identities. Simmons had eventually decided to draw up a family tree and the result looked disturbingly similar to a plate of spaghetti.
Undeterred by Simmons' clear irritation, Donut breezed along with the conversation. "What time did you want to get to campus today?" he asked. "I wasn't going to meet Doc for lunch until 11:30, but I'm cool heading in early if you need."
Sighing, Simmons nodded. "Yeah, I need to do some research in the library," he admitted. "Can we leave after breakfast?"
"You got it, buddy!"
"Better you than me," Grif commented out the side of his mouth before digging into his meal. "I'd make sure you have your headphones this time. I'm pretty sure your head will actually explode if you have to listen to him the whole drive into town."
"They're already in my bag," Simmons quietly replied with a small grimace.
Grif took his time eating, letting Donut's excited chatter about how his second year of college was going wash over him. It was nice having some time to just sit, eat, and relax with the other two men. He couldn't deny he felt rather possessive of them both, and especially Simmons. If they'd been werewolves, they would probably have formed a proper pack.
But that wasn't possible. For a number of reasons.
Suppressing a sigh, he let his mind return to his new werewolf problem. With no real forewarning, Grif wasn't set up to take care of someone as battered as Wash.
It'd probably be best to stick with stocking up on the basics for now. Once Wash was more coherent, he'd be able to ask him about food preferences, proper clothes, and shit like that. For now, they could probably get by with jerky, ramen, frozen fish, and the overflowing closets with every piece of clothing discarded or forgotten by Sarge's sprawling extended family.
The tricky part would be in making sure none of the others found out about Wash, Grif reflected as he continued working on his scrambled eggs. Wash wasn't going to be like the others Tex had dropped off with him. He didn't need a brief orientation into werewolf life before being sent on his way. No, Wash was damaged in ways Grif had never seen before. And that meant he would be sticking around longer than any of the other werewolves in the past.
It wasn't hard to imagine what would happen if any of the humans who dwelled in the main house found out about Wash. Sarge, a former soldier with a chip on his shoulder, barely tolerated him as it was. He considered Grif useful for ensuring no other werewolves bothered them, but no further. And he definitely wasn't allowed to be on ranch property during the full moon. Adding a second werewolf was out of the question.
Donut was far too flighty to trust with knowledge of the existence of werewolves. He'd be all over Grif, and then Wash, demanding details and wanting to brush their fur, and to play. When he was done fussing, he'd be blabbing about all of it to his boyfriend and anyone else in earshot. And eventually, word would reach the ears of someone dangerous.
And Simmons… he couldn't tell Simmons. The anxiety-wrought man had lost his arm and leg to a wild animal attack barely two years earlier. He rather understandably still freaked when he heard wolf howls. Telling him that werewolves were a thing guaranteed a meltdown of epic proportions. (And he'd hate Grif forever afterwards… That would literally be the worst.)
So for now, he needed to focus on keeping Wash hidden until he had a handle on being a werewolf and the sickly scent surrounding him faded away. Then he could set him loose on the world or whatever it was Wash wanted to do from there. He wouldn't be Grif's problem anymore.
With a new plan in mind, Grif down the last of his eggs with renewed energy. He would need to text Kai while he headed out to find Sarge and he'd need a nap for sure at some point today. Fortunately, Sarge could be grudgingly accommodating after a full moon. If he put in a decent amount of work this morning, he might even be able to skip doing anything at all in the afternoon.
Plate now empty, Grif shoved it back and stood, leisurely stretching. He gave Simmons's shoulder a cheerful whack. "Don't freak out too much, nerd," Grif ordered with a carefully light tone. "I'm skipping out as soon as I can today, so you better get back here soon to distract Sarge for me."
Grabbing his gloves from the end of the table, Grif shoved them into his back pocket and pulled out his phone while he headed for the door. Time to get the ball rolling.
Consciousness dawn on Wash slowly. Something felt off, but he just couldn't put his finger on what. And he was so tired he couldn't find the energy to open his eyes and investigate.
If something important is going on, Connie will come get me, he mused as he buried his face in his pillow.
Although, come to think of it, he didn't remember his pillow being so thin. Or lumpy. Or smelling faintly of mothballs and processed sugar.
A sense of disquiet began to build in his mind. In the back of his head, something began to grumble. Pushing aside the part of him that wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, Wash forced himself to pry open his eyes and found himself staring into darkness. Worry began to build in his gut as a small room came into focus as his eyes adjusted.
A bunk bed sat facing him, the edge of the large lower mattress barely two feet from the one he was lying on. Casting his eyes about, Wash realized there was another bed above him, and that he was lying in an identical bunk bed, albeit, one that was considerably more lived in. Where the other mattresses that he could see only had a simple blanket and pillow, his current bed had sheets and a blanket. Another pillow sat near his head, temporarily shoved to the side, and a thick comforter had been shoved up against the wall.
This wasn't home base.
Sleep, came a sudden wordless rumble inside his mind. Pack den. Safe. Rest. Listen to Alpha.
Rather than being comforting, the feeling of this other mind within his own head sent a shock of electricity down his spine and Wash catapulted himself out of the bed. He teetered for a moment, uncertain if he had two legs, or four. His hand swept across his backside, checking for the tail that was somehow failing to help him with his balance.
No tail. No tail meant no fur. Human. He was human right now.
With this understanding came the memory of the previous night - had it really been the night before? Tex, dangerous and mysterious, rescuing him from the medical observation room-turned-cell. Fighting to escape the base and watching is explode and burn as they fled. And then the other werewolves, Grif and Kai. Tex had left him with them before abandoning him like garbage on the side of the road.
Grif. He'd done something to him, Wash realized. White hot anger erupted inside him. One moment he'd been ready to tear his head off, the next he'd been following eagerly along behind him, happy and content while the world turned hazy and indistinct. The only solid, certain thing around had been Grif, that bastard.
Spotting the door to the odd bedroom, Wash stalked towards it, ready to hunt Grif down and make it abundantly clear that he was to never mess with Wash's mind again.
Grabbing the doorknob, Wash wrenched it open to reveal a small living room and kitchenette. Grif was sprawled out on the cramped couch looking more than half asleep. The only light in the room came from the TV, which was currently showing a pair of muted figures trying to sell a knife set.
Rather than cower in terror, Grif turned his head to stare with heavy-lidded eyes. "Oh, you're finally awake. Evening, Sleeping Beauty."
"You- You did something to me," Wash growled.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Grif yawned and his teeth seemed to flash as the light from the TV hit them. "You were losing it, dude. Had to get you back here somehow."
"And where, exactly, is here?"
"Ranch outside of the town of Blood Gulch," Grif replied with another yawn. "Got plenty of room for a new werewolf to figure things out. As long as you avoid the ranch's owner, that is. More importantly, there's some beef jerky on the counter. I'm guessing you're pretty hungry. Help yourself."
The mention of food completely threw him off, and Wash found himself suddenly hunting for the promised bag of jerky.
"Tap water's fine if you need a drink."
Locating the bag of jerky, Wash tore into the strips of dried meat, suddenly feeling absolutely ravenous. The wolf perking up and rumbled happily in his mind.
After finishing off one of the jerky strips, Wash dug through the cabinets until he found a random assortment of plastic cups. Picking one of them, he filled it up with tap water and took a long swallow.
"It's not like the whammy was super effective," Grif grumbled under his breath while Wash ate. "Anyone else would have followed every order I gave to a tee. But no, you had to go be ornery and take my bed for a nap even though I explicitly told you not to."
Squaring his jaw, Wash glared. "Just don't do it again," he warned Grif.
"I'm not planning on it," Grif snorted. "It's messed up."
"I- yes, yes it is," Wash agreed. He'd been expecting a fight, but Grif was just… going along with everything? That couldn't be right.
Grif rearranged himself slightly on the couch so he could better look at Wash. "Just so you know, there's like, cereal and shit in the cabinets if you want it tomorrow. Got some ramen and frozen stuff, too, if you want."
Wash stared, chewing slowly on a particularly thick piece of jerky.
Grumbling, Grif crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down more on the couch. "Look, it's late, I've been awake since late last night, and you look like you could use another week of sleep. We can go over everything in the morning. I just really need you to trust me right now."
"Why the hell should I do that?" Wash demanded. After everything that had happened, how could he even consider trusting anyone?
"Well, if nothing else I've said today has convinced you, just keep in mind that Tex expects to find you completely intact whenever she bothers coming this way again. Which means, looking out for you and helping you is in my best interests. She may not be a werewolf, but she sure as hell knows how to fight them."
Agony hit him like a lash at the mention of Tex and Wash found himself curling in on himself as he remembered her sudden departure. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought back a pained whimper and the urge to howl at the sky in a desperate attempt to find her.
"What- what's wrong with me?" he demanded as he shook. "I can't- Everything's just too-" His voice broke off, and he found he couldn't finish his question.
Looking concerned, Grif swung his legs onto the floor and rose from the couch. Hurrying over, he slowed once he was in touching distance, carefully telegraphing his motions as he reached out to rest his hand on Wash's shoulder.
"I mentioned earlier that being turned into a werewolf is a complicated process," Grif said slowly. His hand felt as heavy as a lead weight, and gave Wash something solid to focus on. "The scientists in that fucked up program you were in may have gotten the physical change to happen, but that's only part of it. Your entire system is out of whack right now, including your emotions."
"I feel like I'm on a roller coaster," Wash interjected, desperately clutching at his own arms.
"You just need time to recover and let things even out," Grif explained in a firm voice. "And you'll get there. You're not the first fucked up werewolf I've ever seen, and you won't be the last."
Still shaking, Wash gave into his instincts and collapsed against Grif, burying his face in the man's shoulder. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because Tex'll rip my dick off if I don't."
"Liar."
Grif stood silent for a moment, then, sighing, let one of his arms wrap loosely around his back. "I've seen what happens when werewolves go bad. A lot of people get hurt, and that's fucked up. I'm making sure that here, at last, it doesn't happen like that again. No one deserves to get hurt like that."
"So you're going to take care of me?" Wash asked in a small voice.
"Yeah, I'm gonna take care of you," Grif confirmed. "But that shouldn't take too long. I'll have you out of my hair in no time."
Grif had been right that Wash was exhausted, because he could feel himself wilting as he continued to lean against Grif's stocky frame.
"Alright, come one," Grif said in a firm voice. Reaching down, he plucked the bag of jerky out of Wash's hand and tossed it back on the counter. "Naptime. And this time, you'll be in your own bed, not mine."
A soft whine escaped Wash's throat as the wolf protested.
"No, I mean it," Grif continued in a stern voice. Then, he was being propelled towards the bedroom door once more. "You can get up to use the bathroom or to get food. But that's it. The rest of the time, you need to be resting."
"I don't want to sleep anymore," Wash grumbled.
"Tough luck. That's all you're going to be doing for a while, you lucky bastard."
Wash felt his eyelids drooping as Grif tucked him into one of the spare beds. Grif's neglected heavy comforter was laid down over the thin sheet on his bed and finally both Wash and the wolf felt at peace now that Grif's scent was draped over him.
While Wash drifted back off to sleep, he felt the momentary pressure of a hand passing through his hair. "You're getting soft," Grif muttered softly, seemingly to himself.
It wasn't weakness to protect others, Wash wanted to argue. But he was so tired, and before he could speak up, he fell back asleep.