Chapter Text
There are things that Daryl knows are very different between the human world and the werewolf world. He’s lived in this strange straddle between them both for long enough now to know when some things are acceptable and some things aren’t. At first it took him a while to get used to wearing clothes all the time when in human form, he had to learn that some things weren’t to be chewed on, and that humans didn’t tend to scent things at all. But when it came to ownership, humans were as possessive as wolves.
The difference was that humans owned with money, they made pacts with words and deals, signed pieces of paper and had silent understandings of borders and rules. Laws held up ownership, humans believed they were entitled to what was theirs and any taking of such without permission was against the law. Daryl had watched as money exchanged hands and food became Shane’s in a store just because he’d given them some green stained paper. It had been perplexing to understand when things worked so differently in the werewolf world he was used to.
Ownership was taken with fighting and fangs, nothing was ever given in the wolf world it was only ever taken, or earned through fighting. Packs were made and ruled with blood being spilled, the strongest taking what they wanted with sheer force and letting others fall in line. Food was earned with hunting, you didn’t fight for it then you didn’t eat. The strongest earned what they had by sheer will and as a wolf if you had your territory, your pack, your food, your pups, you fought to keep them from rivals.
So when he sees Shane on that picnic blanket sitting with the woman, there is an urge of overwhelming possessiveness that takes over him. He can feel the feral side of himself rearing up, all humanity lost for a moment as his blood pulses around his body. It’s a fire within him, an urge to defend and protect what is his. Because Shane is his and he is Shane’s. They are mated. They are bonded and he will not lose his mate because of a threat from some human female.
A loud growl echoes from his throat, the Frisbee falls from his mouth as his teeth are bared, claws digging into the ground beneath him as his body prepares for a fight. His body is running on instinct as he moves closer towards them both, leaving the Frisbee behind as he approaches, ears back, tail rigid, hackles raised and fur on end. There is no thought, it’s all emotion, all a need to own and dominate, to claim what is his and make sure the threat knew about it.
He moves, grass against his paw pads, claws catching dirt with each stride, breath huffing out loudly as the growl turns into a full blown snarl the closer he gets. Right now there is no human within him, it’s all wolf, all danger and a promise of death to anyone who gets on the wrong side of him. It’s as if he can feel the pulse through his body, his feral side leaving a gold gleam in his eyes as he paces close enough, body low as if to pounce on prey, to hunt, to kill. Her hair is yellow in the sun, there is the whiff of perfume in the air and he could track her for miles before giving the killing blow if he wanted to chase her for sport.
“Daryl did you get the Frisbee?”
Something shifts within himself, gears change, the veil lifts and his bloodlust sinks into nothing as familiar fingers curl into the fur on his back. Carl. Pack. Pup.
Daryl can see again. The pressure is lifted from his chest as Carl’s scent surrounds him, fingers moving to rub at Daryl’s ears, to bring him back down to a safe level and immediately he stops making any noise of anger and tilts his head back to lick beneath Carl’s chin reassuringly.
For a moment he is ashamed of himself. The human side of himself leaking through and reminding him that this is not how he was supposed to act. Humans did not fight over each other with blood and teeth, they spoke, they may fight but he was supposed to be more controlled than this. It’s the medication that’s doing this. He’s spending so much time in feral form, under a cloud of medication that brings his instincts to the surface and lets him hang on to behaviours that he’s learned throughout his life. It is hard to focus himself like this, and with Shane sitting next to that woman, he’s losing himself in his more feral side and the worst thing is, he’s not so sure he minds it.
Carl laughs to him, moving to grab up the Frisbee from where he’d dropped it and waving it about, ready to start up their game again. But Daryl cannot focus on that right now. The pup is excited, eager to play and enjoy their time together in the open park, but all Daryl can see is the female human beside his mate and it makes his tail twitch in a want to stop it. So he whines a little, presses against Carl’s side and laps at his palm in apology before trotting in the direction of their picnic blanket. The kid seems to understand even if he can’t speak wolf very well, and Rick is calling for his son to let him rest for a while.
He is grateful for that, the pup doesn’t need to see this; it was more an adult matter anyway.
Breathing deeply he tries to reign himself in, tries to focus, to ground himself in the here and now, but every step closer brings with it the scent of floral perfume mixing with Shane’s musky scent, and that growl begins to lodge itself in his throat again. That’s his scent to enjoy. Shane’s scent permeates their home, their territory. It mixes with his own when he scents things and it’s like his own personal scent tag he attaches to his mate. No one else should get to enjoy that without his permission. Shane is his as much as he is Shane’s, and this intruder was just moving in onto their picnic blanket, into his mate’s space and smiling about it.
Daryl knows he is possessive, but he knows he has every right to be.
Approaching the blanket, he is silent in his approach, trying to keep a level head and his nose on finding answers and not on trying to find the best point on her neck to sink his fangs into. It’s with a small huff that he lets his weight fall into Shane’s side, wedging his large body between the two humans sitting on the ground, and letting his bulk barge into their space. Daryl shoves at his human, nudges at him with his head, his paws, his whole body until he has his attention completely.
Shane grins, laughs, smiles, looks so alive and safe, whole, real, his. It lets him breathe a little easier, gives him some feeling of ease over the situation and lets the blood stop from pounding around his ears so loudly. He is calm, he is not a hunter, he is a wolf through and through, he is Shane’s, Shane is his and he can handle this.
“Hey bud, how’re you doin’?” Shane asks him, fingers already combing through his fur, latching onto him, pressing close and even leaning in to press his head to his. Daryl rumbles out a growl low in his chest, opening his mouth to latch onto Shane’s wrist, fangs sharp but so gentle since he knows human skin can break so easily. “Yeah I missed you too.” He can almost hear Shane rolling his eyes at him, but he doesn’t mind, knows that humans don’t always understand these things.
Still he mouths over him, nipping and licking over the skin of Shane’s arm and hand, enjoying the rough petting he gets from his human. Shane knows him, knows he can take it, knows he’s not some prissy poodle that needs things gentle. He’s too wild for that, too feral and used to a life outside. His snarls are not of anger and his human knows that, Shane can read him and knows when he’s like this, growling and mouthing at him, using the bulk of his body to shove Shane to the ground and climb on top of him, he’s only speaking wolf, and not a threat.
Not to him at least.
Shane laughs, a little squished, but certainly not upset about it. Daryl whines and rubs against him more, face pressed into Shane’s neck, tongue lolling out to lap at his chin, catching on his stubble a little and enjoying the raspy feel of it. Shane isn’t soft or fragile either, his human can fight, can own and fend for himself. Daryl couldn’t have picked a better mate to have in this harsh world. His tail wags in the air, high and showing his pleasure at getting to be close to someone he loves.
Roughhousing with Shane is one of his favourite pastimes, and even if his side is still a little tender, he still loves having an excuse to be pressed against him. His paws are large enough to pin Shane down, to get his human sprawled on the floor so he can climb on top, can sit on his stomach before lying down across Shane’s chest, the human’s whole body beneath his, safe and protected from the rest of the world due to his own body acting as a shield. He’d taken a bullet for Shane once, and he’d take everything else the world threw at him too if he had to.
Nuzzling beneath Shane’s chin he laps idly at him, grooming him, sharing his scent and marking him in ways that human eyes cannot always see. But he knows. Every other animal will know. Any other rival wolves would know and not dare to disrespect his claim over this human. Letting his long tongue reach behind Shane’s ears and tickle at his hair, he pants happily when Shane’s hands come up to tug on his ears, ruffling his fur but not stopping him from showing his affections.
“Ain’t you groomed me enough lately?” Shane asks him, and Daryl huffs out a snort in answer, not stopping from lapping at his neck for a second. He can feel Shane’s laugh vibrate in his chest beneath him, sounding warm and safe, a true sign of his mate’s happiness. “Silly puppy. Hey, you remember Andrea right? From the case a few weeks ago?” Shane asks him and immediately Daryl is tensing in his arms.
He knew he recognised that perfume. The scent coming off the woman, the intruder, the threat. Whining in the back of his throat he paws at Shane’s mouth, trying to get him to stop talking, stop even acknowledging the existence of the woman sitting with them. Of course Shane still isn’t fluent in wolf speak, he’s still learning and ignores Daryl’s attempts to shut him up, wriggling and turning his head with a laugh until he can speak again.
“I know you remember, you ate the corner of her case file.” Shane tugs on his ear, trying to get his attention like he usually does and making Daryl grumble a little in acknowledgement. Still he continues lapping at his human’s chin, tongue catching on stubble, still scenting, still marking, still claiming. “She heard about what happened and wanted to come see how you were doing bud.”
That was probably what she’d told Shane at least, but Daryl highly doubted that was her real reason for coming over here. If it were true she would have come to see him first, not Shane. His human was so damned trusting, so naïve to how sneaky and cunning people could be when they were trying to steal mates. Shane honestly didn’t have a clue, couldn’t smell that Andrea was here for another reason. Had to be here for another reason. No other human cared about him except Shane and the Grimes family. Maybe the Greene’s too. But that was it. They had no reason to trust her, to allow her this close to them, too close to his pack. Why had she come when he was wounded? When he was not at his strongest to defend them all? He knew how packs worked, knew how others would attack when members were at their weakest to overthrow them, to defeat them and stake a claim with fangs and war.
Right now he’s vulnerable, his mate is vulnerable, his pack is vulnerable, and Andrea knows that.
He’s used to humans hating him, fearing him, despising his very existence just because he was born wolf. There is no reason for this circumstance to be any different. For all he knew Andrea was just looking for a reason to snatch his mate from him. She might have a plan to get him sent to the pound. Shane always said lawyers were soulless sons of bitches, and Daryl was inclined to agree with his mate when he could be so unsure of the human world. So he certainly does not trust her, even if she isn’t a stranger.
Shane is still holding him, arms wrapping around his body and keeping him close, talking through Daryl’s continued grooming of his face and neck. “Told her you’re doing better, still not fully healed and the meds are making you a bit loopy, but nothing we can’t handle. Right?” His human laughs, bright and innocent, so unaware of the danger that lurks beside him wearing floral perfume and a bright smile as a disguise. Shane’s fingers comb through his fur, run over his ribs, pet and soothe him even as he remains prepared for a fight.
Daryl wags his tail in response to his human’s question, nipping a little at Shane’s chin before licking over his stubble again, getting him damp enough that when he rubs his face over the same patch, his scent sticks there easier, marks him up more firmly. Claiming him easily. Shane rubs at his ears in response and Daryl knows his human must be enjoying getting his attention. Barking in answer he enjoys sprawling on top of Shane, pinning him to the ground in the middle of the park where all the other humans can see his claim over him. It’s all about displays of ownership for wolves and right now he’s practically shouting out how much Shane is his.
But then there is that waft of perfume again, he can smell as a delicate hand reaches his way and he’s snarling, teeth bared, ears pinned back and body taught, ready to attack if he has to. It’s like a switch gets flicked inside of himself and he’s on edge, shielding Shane, keeping him down and making himself bigger over the top of him. Fur on end, hackles raised, eyes golden, tail up, mouth open, fangs on show, snarl echoing. Dangerous, threatening, protecting. Wolf.
Andrea flinches back, he’s focussed on her now, the way she looks frightened, how her body instantly tries to make itself smaller, hunching in her shoulders and drawing back. She is nothing but prey to him. Weak, someone who dared to try and get close to his mate, a threat that he needs to eliminate if he wants to secure his future. His mate’s future. His pack’s future. Daryl can almost feel the feral blood pulsing through his veins, pushing him harder, making him stronger, instinct driving him purely. The snarl breaks free from his chest, a noise of pure ferociousness, pure anger and wild wolf breaking through to get the threat to back off and away from his mate.
He could kill her if he wanted. It would be so easy. All he’d have to do is get her to start running, then he could hunt her down, chase her until she was exhausted, until she was stumbling and falling, so he could bite at her ankles and snap tendons, he could snap at her calves and rip chunks out of her as she tried to run. If he so wished he could pin her down, get her on her back, belly and throat exposed and he could listen to her beg for mercy as he digs his fangs into the soft underside of her throat. Death wouldn’t be slow, it wouldn’t be graceful, and he would howl with her blood on his muzzle to let every other human know just who they were messing with if they messed with his pack.
“Daryl!”
Fingers grab around his muzzle, clamping his jaws shut and startling him from the bloodlust seeping through him. Immediately he’s whining, trying to shake off Shane’s hand and get a grip over himself. His human tweaks at his ear, doesn’t let go of his muzzle and soon enough he’s wrapped in Shane’s arms again, this time in a firmer grip, one to keep him from doing anything fuelled by jealousy and his feral side. He squirms, whines for forgiveness and he can feel the twinge on his side when he moves too quickly for himself.
“Calm down, calm down.” Shane is hushing him, one arm wrapped about him and his muzzle caught between his fingers, but the other hand strokes through the fur of his chest, soothing him, calming him and making sure he listens to his mate. “Easy, easy Daryl.” He soothes, voice a low tone, calming to him, cutting through the instincts still bubbling beneath the surface and making sure he’s listening. Whining loudly he stops from struggling, letting his body relax into Shane’s, to just be held and understood. “I know, it’s the meds bud, I know, just calm it down for me.”
It helps. Shane’s voice, his touch, it helps bring him back down from the blood lust, from the high of the medication letting loose his more feral instincts. He can feel himself shudder a little, curling into Shane’s warmth and letting out a whimper. Slowly the fingers uncurl from his muzzle, and Daryl makes sure to lick at them in apology as Shane stops restraining him and instead just holds him, keeps him close and lets him feel the thud of his human’s heartbeat against his own chest. Shane is fine, Shane is happy with him, so his tail starts wagging again, thumping at the ground and he can’t help but enjoy just being with Shane for a moment.
His human is so good to him. Most would have seen him bare his teeth and put him down immediately, would have seen him as a danger and erased the problem. They thought of him the same as a badly trained dog, but not Shane. Shane knew him. His human knows how he works, knows that this is all the medication running through his blood and making him want to defend what is his. He’s possessive, and he makes sure to rub his head against Shane even more to scent him, to make sure he knows just how much he is Daryl’s. Shane’s fingers rake through his fur on his chest, and immediately Daryl is rolling onto his back in Shane’s lap, baring himself, showing how much he trusted this human with his vulnerable underbelly.
Of course Shane strokes him, runs his fingers down over his chest, rubbing at his belly and smiling down at him. “Yeah I know bud.” Shane coos to him, leaning down to let Daryl lick at his face in apology, understanding him so easily. The other man might not be fluent in wolf speak, but he’s getting there and Daryl couldn’t be prouder.
Shane is his rock, his anchor, the only human he could rely on to understand him. In feral form he can’t talk, can’t explain it, can’t try and bring his instincts into human language and tell him just how he feels. His body is still injured, his side aching, and Shane knows how much he trusts him when he allows his human’s fingers to pet over the wound. The petting helps, the human’s form of grooming him, sharing scent, sharing comfort and even if he’s not a pet, Daryl does adore getting to share this with Shane. It’s something that seems so simple, but there is always a meaning behind touch to wolves.
Humans took a lot of things for granted. There were rules and regulations for human touch, especially if they were in public. With wolves there was no shame. Wolves loved openly and freely, mingling with each other, grooming pack mates, enjoying tussles and play fights, and simply touching when it was natural to do so. There was no such thing as shame for wolves. He and Merle had always been close, Merle used to carry him by the scruff when he was a pup, groomed him every morning and evening, fed him mouth to mouth when his pup teeth had been too weak to break the hind of a deer. It was natural, it was love, it was just how things always had been.
But humans were so particular. Especially the males. Even for pack members as close as Shane and Rick it was different. The two male humans would barely touch at all, handshakes, claps onto the shoulder, maybe the occasional hug here and there, but it wasn’t constant, wasn’t natural, wasn’t just unthought of instinct to touch each other. It had confused him for so long when he’d first come to live with Shane, but nowadays he’d trained his human well, and gotten Shane to understand just how important and wonderful touch could be. Now, even just sitting in Shane’s lap in the park, rubbing their faces together and mouthing at his fingers when he’s feeling playful, it’s only natural habit. Shane is used to him, he’s learned to speak a little wolf, and no matter which form he’s in, Daryl knows Shane will always allow him to touch and be as close as he needs to be. Now that they’re mates it’s only heightened their connection, and every touch he shares with Shane is a testament to their perfect link with each other.
Whining lightly he remains in Shane’s grip, arching back to be able to lick behind his ears, enjoying the tiny huff of a laugh he gets from his human. He knows Shane gets ticklish, he knows everything about his human, and it’s a testament to their relationship that Shane has been able to calm him down from one extreme to the other. From a feral wolf ready to kill for him, to a calm and passive mate, eager to just groom and curl into his human’s warmth. Honestly Shane has calmed him down so much, he barely even remembers the rest of the world exists until Andrea speaks again.
“You’re so good with him.” Andrea says and when Daryl looks over to her she’s looking pretty on edge. She looks shocked, watching the two of them tussle together as if she wasn’t sure what was happening. “I thought he was going to bite me.” She explains with a laugh that stinks of nervousness and insecurity. Daryl can smell it on her, and it’s one of the reasons he adores Shane so much, his human was always so sure of himself, never uncertain, never weak or nervous.
“Nah, he would never do that.” Shane sounds so sure, still rubbing at him and Daryl is more than eager to whine in agreement. “I’m sorry he scared you Andrea, and he wouldn’t normally be like that. It’s just the medication, it’s got him acting a little off.” Shane explains, but Daryl sees no reason for it, he didn’t do anything other than growl and warn her off and besides, it worked. His human keeps him close, tugging on his ears for his attention, winding his fingers around his muzzle and manipulating his jaws open and closed in time with his next words. “I’m. Sorry. Andrea.” Shane says in a growly voice, and Daryl huffs out a laugh as he shakes his muzzle free and licks over his lips. “See? He even says he’s sorry.”
Andrea laughs, and just like that she’s at ease again, not stinking of worry or fear. But he knows she will never forget that. There will always be that image in her mind of him snarling at her, at him being prepared to rip out her throat to protect his mate. If nothing else, she has been warned and Daryl knows that he’s made his point.
It’s easier to relax now, now that he knows his pack is safe and protected. Even with Rick and Carl playing on the grass, throwing that Frisbee back and forth, he knows that nobody would dare to try and hurt them with him around. Shane’s fingers continue to stroke over him, running over the soft fur of his ears, keeping him grounded, keeping him calm and safe. Flopping onto his side he sprawls over Shane’s lap, paws nudging his human’s legs to his liking before he settles down to get comfortable. Head over Shane’s thigh, body curled around his human’s as he lets himself take a position of vigilance, of protection, ever ready to protect them from any threat he perceives.
Shane’s hand settles on his head, fingers slowly stroking over his forehead, tracing out a path down over the top of his muzzle repetitively, helping to soothe him, giving him the reassurance that his mate is safe for now. His human is good to him, grabbing Stryker from their bag and nudging his favourite toy against his muzzle until Daryl takes him, placing the toy between his paws so he can groom the squirrel’s fur gently. Shane continues petting him as he grooms Stryker’s tail and keeps watch on his pack. Andrea remains on their picnic blanket, chatting to Shane about the case they’d last worked on together, but she sits further back from them, there is distance now, and she doesn’t keep doing that stupid human giggling and fluttering her eyes at Shane anymore.
It’s not perfect, but it’s better, it feels safer and it seems as though his little display has put her back in her place. He knows he can rest for a while, and just tend to Stryker, enjoy Shane’s touch and feel comfortable knowing that his pack is safe and happy for now.