Work Text:
It’s only by closing her eyes and counting backwards that Beverly is able to keep from losing control.
Even then, she doesn’t escape unscathed. When she opens her eyes again, a quick glance confirms that her claws have punctured her palms. She watches a fat drop of blood drop to the carpet before she looks back at Freddie, who was, up until a few seconds ago, attempting to extort Beverly into giving up details on the Chesapeake Killer investigation.
Now, however, Freddie is uncharacteristically silent. Her red lips are parted, and she’s lowered her folder of supposedly incriminating photos. After a moment, she drops the folder and takes a single step forward, nearly stepping on the blood drop from Beverly’s palm.
“Show me,” she says. There’s no smugness or cruelty in her voice, only awe, and Beverly hates how her skin flushes now that Freddie’s blue eyes are trained on her with fascination.
“You sure?” she asks. Freddie nods, corkscrew curls bobbing around her pale face.
“Yes.” She raises one hand and traces a long finger along Beverly’s bottom lip. “I want to see.”
It’s the most explicit invitation she is likely to get, and Beverly lets her façade fall away. She reveals her claws and fangs and the true amber of her eyes and is met with a reverential gasp.
“Why would you hide this part of yourself?” Freddie asks quietly.
In that moment, with Freddie looking at her with actual respect, Beverly isn’t sure how to answer her.