Chapter Text
A week had passed since Holly had set them down and ordered them to confess their supernatural secrets, and March and Healy had confessed their feelings instead. An agreement had quickly been struck, Healy's shot-up apartment transitioning into an office for their newly-founded detective agency, and March's nights getting a lot less chilly with a certain werewolf warming his bed. Things were new, and delicate, but they were settling in nicely. Healy would drive Holly to school in the morning when March was still dragging himself out of a dead sleep. March had found the spot behind Healy's ear that made him melt when scratched. It was going well.
Then, Healy started acting weird.
It started small, just growls slipping out more often than they had been in the previous weeks. March had shrugged it off, assuming Healy was just getting more comfortable, relaxing the tight hold he held on his more wolfy instincts. Then, the older man started getting snappy. They'd argued since day one, going from genuine frustration with each other to more playful, loving taunts; but all of a sudden, Healy was just getting mad at March for every little thing! Smoking a little too close to his face? Healy huffed and puffed in annoyance. Coming home a little late from the bar with alcohol and iron on his breath? Healy chewed him out before forcing him to drink untainted blood from the fridge before bed. Things really came to a head when March had shooed Holly out the door to buy groceries, wanting to keep focusing on a case file rather than do it himself. Healy had stood up and snarled, grabbing March by the collar and heaving him out of his seat to accompany Holly to the store.
When the March's arrived home, paper bags in hand, Healy was pacing the living room, flexing his hands repeatedly at his sides. He'd shed his blue jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. There wasn't any fur poking out anywhere, but March could feel the animosity in the air, and knew better than to frustrate the man more.
Unfortunately, March was March, and just because he knew he shouldn't be annoying, didn't mean he could actually succeed at such a thing. He wasn't even sure what he had done this time, calmly putting Yoo-Hoos in the fridge, telling Holly he could finish up if she wanted to chill out in her room until dinner. Everything seemed fine, but before Holly could even get halfway down the hallway, Healy just lost it.
He tore into the kitchen, grabbing March by his remaining uninjured arm, and baring particularly sharp teeth in a snarl, "What the hell's wrong with you?!"
March was sick of this. He liked Healy, was well on his way to loving him, but this weird angry version of his partner was getting on his fucking nerves. He let his own lip curl back, fangs descending, "Wrong with me?! You're the one who's turned into a complete fucking asshole lately! I haven't done shit this time!"
Healy let go of his arm, face falling. He blinked in realization, pulling back with a quiet shake of his head. March's anger quickly morphed to concern at the sight, "Jack? What's going on?"
Then Healy's face contorted ferally again, whirling to face the kitchen's entryway, where Holly was stood, peering worriedly at the men. At the sight of the enraged bruiser, Holly let out a squeak, and scampered off to her room for real this time, the lock audibly clicking into place. March wasn't too painfully aware of his own inhumanity most of the time, but in that moment he felt the full weight of his unbeating heart. He put a cold hand on Healy's shoulder, using his full vampiric strength to turn him around and face him. Venom rose in march's throat, ready to fully dress down the man that had frightened his daughter, when he saw the tears running down Healy's face.
"I-I scared 'er… I have to go—I shouldn' b-be here right now. I shoulda left before. Shit, I'm so sorry Holl, I-I-I—" a genuine whimper fell from his lips, and March wanted nothing more than to know what on earth was going on.
"Jack."
Healy's head tilted, shining eyes filled with guilt.
"I need you to tell me what's going on with you. Now." March was uncharacteristically serious, using his full Dad Voice against Healy, desperate for fucking answers.
"I… I haven't had anyone around in so long… I forgot I can't—can't be fucking normal—"
"Normal about what, Jacks'? You were fine until a couple days ago! What changed?"
"The damn moon!" Healy said, eyes flaring bright behind the glass of emotion.
March felt like an idiot. Well, he was an idiot, he knew that, but it felt particularly prevalent in that moment. His werewolf partner got pissy and he didn't immediately connect it to the whole full moon thing. Though, in all fairness to March, he'd never had a reason to keep track of the lunar cycle before, doing so now had kind of slipped his mind. There had been bigger fish to fry those past few weeks, like realizing he was into men. Big men. Big, older men. There had been a lot going on!
Everything fell into place now, though. Healy hadn't just been grumpy, he'd been extra protective, sensitive to sounds and smells, and jumpy as hell. If March had had more time to learn about werewolves (which he could still hardly believe were real, his own vampirism be damned) maybe he would have seen the signs.
Alright, he could handle a wolfman. Probably. Maybe.
"When?"
Healy gulped, glancing around the room like he was noting all his potential exits, "Tonight."
March sighed, pinching his brow, "Really, Healy? You couldn't have shared with the class a little earlier?"
"I let myself get distracted. I was so focused on—on things… the full moon just kind of slipped my mind."
"Well, as flattering as it is that a werewolf was too busy being in love with me to remember he was going to end up quadre—quadar—"
"Quadrapedal."
"—Yeah that. As flattering as it is, I could have used some fucking warning!"
Healy shuddered, quickly-drying tear tracks leaving his cheeks tacky. He shifted on his feet, ratty sneakers shuffling against the tiles. A grown-ass man, fully aware that he had made a serious error in judgement, and thoroughly chastened for it. March didn't know what to do with this Healy, a side to the man he hadn't really seen up until this point. He really needed a drink.
"Okay. Okay, it's not a problem, we'll deal with it. Right now though, I'm gonna need to be a bit less sober."
The second March started for the bar-counter, a warning growl rumbled from Healy's chest. March didn't even turn, just snapped his fingers and barked, "You don't get to do that right now. You still need to apologize to Holly."
The growl immediately turned into a whimper, and March felt a pang of guilt as he poured a few fingers of whiskey for himself. He sipped at it and patted the older man's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, "She's a tough kid, and she likes you more than me, already. I'll bet she forgives you quick, you just startled her."
Healy didn't say a word, just nodded, staring off at the backdoor, likely still considering making a run for it.
Hm. Couldn't have that.
March eyed the clock over the stove. They still had several hours until nightfall, plenty of time to get some more information out of Healy about what exactly a full werewolf transformation entailed, figure out a solid plan for it, and put together a nice dinner for Holly. He tossed back his drink, and let his usual air of casual mania sink in.
March wrapped long, chilly fingers around Healy's meaty arm, pulling him toward the sofa. To Healy's credit, he only dragged his feet a little bit, letting March guide him into sitting for a serious conversation. Or as serious as they were capable of being, anyway.
"Alright Jack," March started, slapping his knees, "gimme the full rundown on full moon procedure. Do I need to start laying out newspaper, or does wolfy-Healy know to take it outside?"
"March."
"I'd say I'm joking, but considering you haven't told me shit about this, I've got no clue what to expect!"
Healy sighed, air coming out in a gruff huff, "You don't need to expect anything, I'll just go back to my apartment—"
"You mean the office."
Healy's breath hitched, and March tensed for a chase, truly half-expecting him to bolt. Instead, the big guy's eyes softened. Still, he grumbled, "I'll spend the night in the office. There's no reason to put you and Holly in danger like that, I can deal with things myself," he muttered under his breath, "same way I always have."
Well didn't that just pull at March's cold, dead heartstrings. He ran a hand over his mustache, "Let's say Holly has a sleepover at Janet's, or Jessica's, or whoever the fuck. You can't exactly kill me, and I'm not so sure you're as dangerous as you think you are if I never heard about massacres at the Comedy Club."
Healy started shaking his head before March was even finished talking, "No. No, it's a wild animal, March, it's not me. I'm a dangerous man, and it's a real dangerous wolf, I have to be alone tonight." He made to stand, "I ought to be alone right now."
March practically tackled him back to the couch, earning a startled growl and a stinging clawmark across the back of his right hand. He draped himself over Healy, hoping he wouldn't just get thrown off, knowing full well that was a possibility.
"No!" he barked, feeling a bit like a kitten arguing with, well, a wolf. "You're staying here, with me!"
Healy didn't shove him away, surprisingly, but just slumped further into the couch, "…Why?"
March didn't move, "Because I… you know."
"I really don't, Holl'."
"I'm—I'm here. For you. You aren't alone anymore, Jack. Not now."
Healy was totally still beneath him.
"Besides, if you get to watch me chug blood after a late night, I should get to see what you look like when you go full wolf. It's only fair, I'd say."
And that got him shoved off, though Healy didn't stand. He just groaned, rolled his eyes, looked at his lanky, undead partner.
"Fine. But we tie me up, and you stay the hell away."
March grinned a fanged smile, "Deal." he said, fingers crossed behind his back.