Sup peeps. I just want to do a huge shout-out to everyone who fav'd, followed, and reviewed - you guys deserve alllll the things! I wasn't expecting to get even two reviews if I'm being totally honest so this blew me away.

So. If you haven't caught on by now this is (I think) what people call a crack fic? And I have nooooo clue when I'll be updating or how long chapters will be (please don't kill me if it's less than a thousand), it just happens. But I will say that you guys keep me motivated! That counts for something, right?

Chapter Two

Sam liked to think he was a confident individual. And while a lot of that confidence came from his drive to understand how shit worked (knowledge was power after all and if there was one thing he hated above everything else, other than leeches, it was feeling stupid)—most of it stemmed from his need to be in control.

So when Seth's mental panic attack came barreling through the pack's shared consciousness and showed the girl and the bloodsucker vanishing into thin air (which was definitely not the plan), he was pissed.

Apparently so was Paul, who had changed back and was storming out of the bushes toward the group of vampires.

Bare-ass naked.

Diplomacy was never Paul's strong suit and while it usually never worked in Sam's favor, he couldn't see anything wrong with it right now. He wasn't doing anything Sam didn't want to do himself and the terror and disgust on the vamps faces would be totally worth it.

In fact, it could be even better.

Follow Paul, he sent through and without waiting for the pack to ask exactly what he meant by that, he changed from four legs to two and started the trek to the meadow.

Without his shorts.

There was some hesitation as the younger members were probably trying to figure out if he'd finally lost his shit but it wasn't too long before he heard foot steps and snickering behind him.

They weren't strangers to nudity, not anymore at least. It took some adjustment for everyone to not be embarrassed or judgmental but it was easier than trying to find places to stash spare clothes or having someone tie them around your neck before you ran route.

Nearly getting clotheslined because you caught your pants on a branch tends to change your way of thinking.

Sam was right behind his packmate at the edge of the clearing when a noise pierced the air and both he and Paul froze—the latter with one leg arched up in the air, dick dangling dangerously over a barberry bush.

It was like thunder, or rock splitting from a cliff, the sound echoed and shook his bones; confused and scared growls rose up around him as he and the pack fought the desire to shift, his skin rippling with the effort. This wasn't a storm. There was something… wrong with it.

Threatening.

"What the fuck is happening?!" A voice screeched.

They knew that voice. The two shared a look at the bitchy vamp's outburst before sprinting the rest of the way into the field.

Or in Paul's case, hurdling.