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It had been a long, slow night at the Mansion for Victor.
His family was each occupied with their own work, his mother shut up in her office, his father training the young wolves in the pack, his brother out patrolling the borders with the rest of the guard.
And Yuuri had left the ground at nightfall with Victor‘s sister, to hunt.
It left the house unusually quiet, and Victor tried not to be too resentful that everyone had a task but him. Sure, he could occupy himself with something useful, could do more research in the library or take care of his own training, or make a plan for his next lessons with Yuuri. But there was nothing he needed to be doing, nothing essential that rested in his hands like it did in those of his other family members.
He couldn‘t say he didn‘t envy how Yuuri had been immediately involved in the pack‘s duties, been given a rank as a trusted hunter and fighter.
Even though Victor knew he had his own position, his own duties he was expected to fulfill, they still left him unoccupied most nights, and he couldn‘t help feeling useless.
It would have been smarter to bury himself in a book for a few hours, to make the night pass faster, to bring him closer to the time when Yuuri would return.
He didn‘t even bother pretending that wasn‘t what he was waiting for. He loved his family, and he was thankful for any opportunity to spend time with them, now that he finally could. But there was a different comfort in having Yuuri around, one that he couldn‘t quite put his finger on.
Perhaps it was because he had bonded with Yuuri as part of his pack long before he had been allowed to return to his family.
In any case, Victor had decided against shutting himself up in his room or the library in favour of prowling around the common rooms on the ground floor, waiting for any sign of Stasya and Yuuri returning from the hunt.
Pausing at the window of the parlour every once in a while to peer out into the star-bright darkness, Victor otherwise relied mostly on his other senses to keep him apprised of his surroundings. He knew he would be able to smell or hear them returning much sooner than they would be visible.
Through the quiet of the house, countless little noises filtered into his ears that his subconscious filed away with ease.
The steps of the servants moving around downstairs, the faint rustle of his mother moving around papers in the office. The rush of leaves moving around in the wind outside, the distant call of owls and the occasional howl of a were. The crackle of the fireplace in each of the mansion‘s rooms. He knew a were in wolf form would be able to detect even more, would be able to hear the breaths and individual heartbeats of each occupant of the house, the scurrying of the mice in the cellar, the whisper-soft wings of the bats outside. But as it was, Victor did not feel like he was lacking anything. He knew more than enough.
He could hear when his mother called for a servant to ask for tea, he could smell the tea being brewed, could also smell that the cook put some shortbread biscuits alongside it on the tray.
He could hear when the fire was burning low in one of the rooms, could smell the servant girl making her rounds to restock the fireplaces which let him stay well out of her way.
He could hear the huffing breaths and loping strides of wolves approaching the mansion from the forest, could smell the sharp and sweet scent of blood that clung to them. Hare, and deer and… fox? And underneath it their more familiar individual scents, mixed with the richness of earth, the musty scent of rotting leaves and cold, clear dew.
He could hear them moving around to the servant‘s entrance, which made sense, since they would drop off their game there—at least that which they hadn‘t immediately devoured themselves.
Victor moved into the sitting room, giving up his restless pacing in favour of sitting in a soft armchair, picking up a book to give at least the semblance of having done anything else but wait for their return all night.
It felt pathetic, but he still had some pride left.
It was only a few minutes before he heard the weres moving up the stairs, the sharp scent of blood drawing closer, making Victor‘s stomach growl, reminding him that in addition to having done nothing productive all night, he also hadn‘t eaten.
He heard Stasya huff a goodbye to Yuuri in the entrance hall, and one set of footsteps loping up the stairs while another made a beeline for the sitting room.
Victor was not surprised—Yuuri would be able to smell him in here just as well as Victor was able to smell him.
Nosing open the door, the shape of a large black wolf padded into the sitting room, making his way towards Victor.
Victor couldn‘t quite hold back a smile.
“Good evening, Yuuri“, he said, putting down his book, like he had been paying any attention to it in the first place. “Have a good hunt?“
Yuuri answered with a huff, but his ears were perked forward, eyes bright, tail wagging slowly behind him. He seemed in good spirits.
He also seemed to carry something in his mouth, Victor noted with surprise. A rabbit, judging by the smell, and already skinned, too. Usually the hunters ate their fill first while they were out, and then focused on bringing back game for the house, but perhaps Yuuri had wanted another snack after hours of hunting?
Instead of settling down to consume his snack, however, Yuuri came right up to Victor and dumped the rabbit unceremoniously in his lap.
Victor blinked at him.
“Yuuri, what…?“
Yuuri just looked up at him expectantly, and nudged the carcass a little closer to him in a universal gesture of “eat!“
Victor could feel his throat tightening with emotion, fingers itching towards the rabbit, bled out but still a little warm in his lap.
“How did you… how did you know?“, he whispered, and Yuuri just gave him a flat look, tilting his head to the side.
Victor swallowed, wondering if he was really that obvious.
The years living with the Plisetskys had made him hate eating alone, so unless there was someone to share his meal, he often didn‘t eat. It wouldn‘t be the first time that Yuuri was more observant than Victor gave him credit for.
Or perhaps he could just smell it on him, the hunger.
In any case Yuuri was sitting primly, looking at Victor expectantly from those bright amber eyes, making it clear that he wouldn‘t move until Victor ate.
Victor took a deep breath and forced down the emotion welling up in his chest.
“Thank you“, he said simply, hoping that his voice didn‘t waver too much.
Then he grabbed the rabbit and moved out of the chair to sit on the floor next to Yuuri. Whatever else you were at liberty to do in a werewolf household, it wouldn‘t do to get blood on the upholstery.
Yuuri watched Victor as he ate, though he was less vigilant once Victor had started, flopping down on the hardwood and curling his tail around himself.
Silence settled, Victor being occupied with eating and Yuuri not exactly able to do small talk. But observing Yuuri a little more closely now, Victor couldn‘t hold back a chuckle.
“Where have you been?“, he asked between bites, reaching out to pluck a small stick, complete with leaves on it, out from Yuuri‘s fur. Yuuri flinched back at the unexpected contact, looking at first taken aback, then a little sheepish when Victor wiggled the stick in his face with a small smile.
It wasn‘t the only one, either—now that he looked a little closer, Victor could see that Yuuri‘s whole fur was scattered with bits of wet fallen leaves, pieces of grass and sticks, and burs clinging tightly to the strands.
With a huff, Yuuri inclined his head and started grooming himself, beginning with his front paws. Victor watched him with some amusement while he finished his meal, watching Yuuri‘s long tongue lick through his thick fur, leaving it smooth and shiny in its wake.
At least at first.
Cleaning his front paws seemed simple enough, but by the time Victor had finished his food and licked clean his own fingers and mouth, Yuuri had moved on to his chest and his flank, which seemed more of a struggle. Especially the burs, small but stubborn, having dug their barbs into his fur, did not seem inclined to move, even as Yuuri nibbled at them.
Victor watched him for another few minutes, an amused smile on his lips, before taking pity.
“Do you want me to help with that?“, he asked, reaching out to easily pluck a bur out of his fur.
But Yuuri flinched away from his touch, eyes flattened as he cowered, a low growl in his throat that was more a warning than it was a threat.
Victor sighed with a sad smile, but lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I‘m just offering“, he said, “You know, opposable thumbs do come in handy sometimes.“
Yuuri‘s growl subsided, but he backed away a little from Victor before picking up his grooming again, casting a suspicious look at Victor every once in a while.
Victor kneaded his hands in his lap, watching him. It wasn‘t new that Yuuri kept his distance, that he avoided unnecessary touch from others… but this wasn‘t unnecessary, was it?
Chewing on his lips, Victor watched as Yuuri painstakingly bit another bur out of his fur.
“You know“, he murmured, and Yuuri‘s amber eyes flicked up at him sharply, “there‘s no shame in asking for help. Or in just accepting it when it‘s offered.“
Looking away, Yuuri just continued his ministrations.
Victor twisted his fingers together firmly, knuckles turning white.
“After all…“, he took a deep breath, “we‘re pack… aren‘t we?“
Yuuri stopped then and looked up at him, wide-eyed.
Victor swallowed, hoping he was doing a better job keeping his face under control than his feelings.
“Aren‘t we?“, he repeated, voice no more than a whisper.
Yuuri sat up until they were almost at eye level, every muscle tense, his bright eyes searching Victor‘s for… something. He looked helpless.
The realisation twisted sharply in Victor‘s stomach.
“You‘ve… never had a pack before.“
Sure, Yuuri had been technically part of the Plisetsky pack, but they had never treated him as one of their own, had never allowed him into their bond. And before that, Yuuri had been a rogue wolf, fending for himself in the wilderness.
And before that, Yuuri had been human. He might have had a family, yes, but he wouldn‘t know what it meant to be pack.
“Yuuri…“ Victor licked his lips, looking for the right words. “I know it might not be easy to trust in this after what your years with the Plisetskys have been like but… you‘re one of us now. And we look after our own.“
Yuuri just kept looking at him with those wide eyes, so Victor continued.
“You‘ve helped us so much. You‘re the only reason I am here now, and then everything you‘re doing for the trial… let us help you, too. Even if it‘s only with something like this.“
And he gestured at Yuuri‘s fur.
Yuuri hesitated, thinking for a few moments longer—and then some of the tension seeped out of his frame, and he nodded.
Victor sighed a deep breath of relief, carefully shuffling closer to Yuuri on the floor—and this time, Yuuri let him.
His fur was soft and warm under Victor‘s fingers, thick enough that he could have buried his whole hand in it as he combed through it gently, picking out stray bits of leaves and grass and carefully plucking out the burs.
As he worked along Yuuri‘s flank and his back, slowly the tension seeped out of Yuuri and he relaxed enough to lie back down on the floor, the trembling that Victor could feel under his fingers subsiding.
Victor worked quietly, carefully but efficiently, not wanting to make Yuuri uncomfortable by lingering too much. Moving on to his other side, Victor noted with some relief that Yuuri had even closed his eyes, breathing deeply under Victor‘s touch.
Victor knew the ministrations of his fingers wouldn‘t be the same as being groomed by another wolf‘s tongue. But then—Victor realised with another start—Yuuri likely had never been groomed by another wolf. There wouldn‘t have been anyone Yuuri would have let close enough, likely no one other than Victor who wanted to get close enough, at least not without ulterior motives.
He wondered if Yuuri missed it, if he felt the absence of touch so keenly as Victor often had in those long years in the Plisetsky house. Or was it strange to him, that physical closeness between weres, the grooming, the playfights, the snuggling? Was it different for humans? Did they groom each other at all?
He considered asking about it, asking Yuuri about his family and his life as a human, but Victor didn‘t know how Yuuri and his human family had parted, and it was likely to be a painful memory either way.
So he worked quietly, just feeling the glide of Yuuri‘s soft fur under his fingers as he worked through his tail, his neck and the back of his head which he couldn‘t possibly reach himself, then down to his chest. He stopped there, deciding to leave Yuuri‘s belly to himself, since he didn‘t want to overstep and Yuuri would be able to easily reach it himself.
Yuuri yawned, his tail twitching lazily as Victor finished, but Victor beckoned him to stay for just a minute longer while he darted up the stairs to his own room to pick up a brush.
Yuuri peered at him a little doubtfully when Victor returned, but he remained still and let Victor brush through his fur stroke after careful stroke until Yuuri‘s coat was glossy and perfect.
“There“, Victor said, leaning back with a satisfied smile to admire his handiwork. “Don‘t you look handsome?“
Yuuri huffed, tongue darting out to lick over his nose, but he didn‘t seem to want to immediately get up and walk away, which Victor took as a good sign. Instead, he settled down more comfortably, tucking his tail around himself, and Victor did the same, still sitting on the floor but leaning back against the chair, resting his head against the cushion.
The remains of Victor‘s meal were still next to them, as well as the small pile of leaves and sticks that Victor had pulled out of Yuuri‘s fur.
They would have to move sooner or later, but for now they just sat, in companionable quiet, and when Yuuri reached out to touch a paw against Victor‘s knee, Victor didn‘t have to think about what he was trying to say.
“It‘s no problem“, he murmured, “We’re pack. We look after each other.“