Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It would be no exaggeration to say that, upon entering the jazz club with Chris earlier that evening, Thomas had realised that nothing was impossible. But he might be forgiven for finding the sight of what appeared to be a golden brown wolf, on hind legs, chasing policemen around the desks outside the holding cell that he, Chris, and a number of other men had been crushed into... highly improbable.

His first thought was that it was a man in costume - the wolf was steady on its hind legs. Moved gracefully, even, despite the chaos of the situation at hand. And the deep brown eyes were uncannily human .

No costume he'd ever seen was that convincing, but the alternative seemed ridiculous.

"Just to make sure," Chris cast him a sideways glance, "you're seeing this, too?"

"Oh, yes. Whatever this is." The wolf-shaped man turned to look at them, and deftly plucked a set of keys from an unconscious policeman. Thomas hadn't seen the wolf-shaped man strike anyone, so the policeman on the floor must have fainted, having found it all a bit too much. Thomas supposed he could hardly fault him for that, but at the same time it was a little funny - as much as he could find anything funny in his current situation.

"I think he might just be our hero," Chris said, indicating the keys that had been tossed their way. The wolf-shaped man lingered in the doorway for a moment, but left as Thomas turned the key.

"Bit more excitement than I was hoping for this evening," said a tall, freckled man in the next holding cell, nearest to the door. Thomas recalled his dance partner calling him Harry. "Though things have certainly taken a turn for the better." He clapped Thomas on the shoulder as the cell door swung open.

"We're not quite out of the woods yet."

"Wonder if that's where our friend's from," someone said. A few of the men laughed, but it was a wary kind of laughter. Some of the tension eased when Chris and Harry checked out the doorway, signalling that the coast was clear. They stepped over a couple more unconscious policemen - like the other one, Thomas noted that they had no noticeable injuries - but were met with no resistance. Not many men on duty in the station at this time of night, perhaps. After the stale odour of beer mingled with sweat, fresh air had never felt so good. The moon had never looked so beautiful. Thomas' smile tightened a little when he saw Richard across the street.

"I'll leave you to it," Chris said, gently squeezing his shoulder. "Unless you'd like me to stay. In case…"

"I'll be alright," Thomas assured him. "But thank you. For everything." Chris grinned for the first time since the raid, though rather more awkwardly than Thomas had grown used to over the course of the evening.

"Except landing you in prison?"

"The police arrested me. Not you." They paused briefly before going their separate ways, and Chris' smile softened.

"Good luck, Thomas." He closed his eyes as he breathed in the crisp midnight air, hoping he wouldn't need it.

Chapter Text

Circumspect. Richard smiled and shook his head as he recalled his conversation with Thomas, then resumed brushing the coarse golden hairs off his coat - the very same one he'd worn that evening. Yes, as it happened, he'd known a good deal about being circumspect for quite some time.

The first time he transformed Richard had been eleven, overwhelmed by how natural the fur and the teeth and all of it felt. Like slipping his whole being into one of the warm, woolen gloves his grandmother used to knit. Since then he'd encountered many amusing anecdotes about lycanthropy - most of all the  notion of vulnerability to silver. One could hardly avoid coming into contact with it while working as the King's valet. On those rare occasions that he dressed the King himself, he always allowed himself a small smile when he came to the silver cufflinks.

But now he thought of Thomas, and when he might see him next. To his knowledge, Lord Grantham had no business that would bring him south in the following months. Perhaps Richard could suggest to Mr. Wilson (in such a way that the latter thought it his own brilliant idea) that he ought to be among those accompanying the King on his upcoming visit to Harewood House. Leeds was not so very far from Downton.

And if the moon is full, I shall run fast as a hare. What he'd heard folk say about shifters and the moon wasn't strictly correct, but there was some truth in it - his abilities were derived from moonlight, but even a sliver peeking through where the curtains met was enough for him to change his appearance. However, when the moon was pale and plump amongst the stars, something extraordinary happened, for it was then that Richard was able to meet his full potential.

His first full moon transformation saw him run miles upon miles over the Yorkshire Moors without a trace of fatigue the next day. Rather, he awoke feeling remarkably refreshed and better for the fresh air. There had been times when he'd seen to some of his duties (naturally only the ones that could be performed in private) in his wolf form, taking advantage of his heightened senses and increased speed. Providing he handled Mr. Wilson, this was definitely feasible. Indeed, the midnight run from Leeds to Downton would be a nice spot of exercise.