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1.
The first time Beth heard it, she had thought it was a trick of the mind. She’d just woken up after all. It was late into the dead hours of the night. Nothing should be awake, including herself but something had woke her up nonetheless.
For once, the whole pack wasn’t gathered in the Den. Claire had thought it best to not overwhelm her little ranger and kept it to people who were most relevant. Which meant that, including Claire and Khakis, it was only herself, Beautiful, and Celine who knew about Khakis’ little…memory problems and their slow recovery.
It’d been a couple weeks now since the first session. They all met up every weekend as a little pseudo-support system while Khakis recovered from their memories being dug up with what must feel like all the force of a bulldozer running them over, judging by how most of the sessions ended with them being nearly bedridden for a couple of days while they recovered.
For all the fact that the procedure was delicate, the healing process itself was anything but. Minds were a delicate thing after all. Easily prone to being tampered with enough trauma. Easily altered with the right methods. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if anyone else had been reduced into a limp wet puddle, but the ranger dealt with it with a surprising amount of grace. Or, well, as much grace as being a nearly mute lump on the mattress in a pitch black room with ear mufflers on could be.
Which is why it was such a surprise to her that, upon coming up to the entrance of the kitchen, she found Khakis (without their signature khakis, for once) …growling. Over a jar of pickles. In the dark.
What the fuck
“Having some midnight cravings there, Khakis?” She teased, deciding that the growling would be a later problem (What in the actual fuck. Last she checked they were completely human. No magic anywhere in their lineage. No bite marks, thirst, or bond to mark a Turning. Definitely nothing close to shifter blood in recent generations of their family tree. Clairewhatin theactualfuck didyoudecidetoda-)
There was a pause in the prolonged growl that had perpetuated the air as they slumped over sideways with a distinct air of defeat.
“Like you wouldn’t believe, ” she could faintly hear over the hum of the refrigerator. They had some borrowed ear mufflers on, the Den being stocked with them from when the pack was still adjusting to their new area. Barely any of them needed them now since they’ve mostly become accustomed but it was still useful to keep them on hand. Never know when a bad day would come, after all.
There was hardly any light in the room, shadows coating every surface within the gloom of the night. Had it not been for Khaki's frustrated growling; she would never have known that they even left their room. Hell, even with it she had almost just called it a night and passed right the fuck back out to snoozeland. It made her wonder how often they pulled this kind of thing off. If this was just a one-off incident brought about by cravings or if they regularly just. Do this sort of shit. It didn’t help that they weren’t the most vocal or verbose of people. If anything, it just highlighted this new oddity in a glaring light that made it very hard to ignore.
Hard. But not impossible.
It was none of her business anyways; because, as curious as she was, she had absolutely no more fucks to give to bother with pursuing that line of thought. It was four in the fucking morning. She was tired. They were tired. They both just wanted to get back into their damn beds.
“Alright,” she tiredly sighed out, wiggling her hand in their general direction, “gimme the damn jar and we’ll see if I can open the stupid can”
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2.
Of course, her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave it alone. That, and the atrocity that Khakis called a uniform. The uniform that they had worn in the explosion had been unsalvageable and immediately tossed. The shirt had been shredded from glass and shrapnel while the bottoms had been torn and stained with blood. For a little bit, they’d worn outfits that had as little fabric touching their back and legs as possible as the burns healed.
By now, the burns were mostly healed and they had pulled out another uniform from somewhere . The damn thing was getting so threadbare in some parts though, that it could have doubled as one of those sheer outfits. Actually, if the threadbare parts weren’t so patchy the ‘uniform’ could have passed as one of them. Granted, Ranger seemed to have noticed at some point and often wore an underlayer so that they weren’t flashing anything important, but her point still stood.
“Come on Khakis,” she nagged and definitely didn’t whine with a particularly deliberate annoying tone, tugging at their side, “why don’t you order a new set of uniforms and use this set for something else? Hell, I’ll pay for it. I’ll even think of a new nickname for you at this point. My pride and sensibility as a professional are at stake here ”
…Okay, maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but nothing she’s said so far was a lie. Technically. For now the uniform was…serviceable…barely. But she’s been watching as the damn thing was getting worn into the dirt. Watching as those threadbare spots slowly grew over time should be its own form of torture. It was the equivalent of making a hair stylist watch hair fall from a balding spot, for Pete’s sake! It was like watching paint dry and peel at the same time right after the new coat was just put on.
If anything she was being tame in nagging them on this.
Now if only they would listen.
“It’s fine,” Ranger muttered, shaking off her hand and thumbing at the fabric before letting it fall, “It still works well enough.”
“Yeah, well enough to flash your ass to the world. If it wasn’t for those layers that you wear underneath, everyone within the next mile would know what color your fucking underwear is.”
“It works, doesn’t it?”
“ For now , but what do you think will happen once summer starts setting in? I, for one, don’t want to be the one hauling your ass from the woods and having to explain to Claire why I found you passed out”
An almost disbelieving snort left their lips as they gave her a look of disbelief, “Claire? Why would she care about this kind of shit? She’s not my minder and it’s not like I’m getting hurt”
“No, she’d feel obligated at this point to baby you at least a little bit. This? Will be the least of your concerns once she really starts going after your ass to mother hen you. And that’s also not going over how she is actually kind of your minder. We all are, just in case there’s any setbacks in your mind healing shit and fainting certainly won’t help with that.”
“I thought that was almost done? And I can look after myself well enough.”
“You never know what could happen,” she shrugged, “you know how you accidentally rolled your ankle when it was almost healed from when you sprained it? Shit like that could happen and it’ll only be worse because that shits in your head , idiot. And it’ll be more subtle in ways that your thick-ass skull wouldn’t notice.”
“How do you know about that-”
“I didn’t find out from Claire if you’re worried about that.”
“...Fine”
“Don’t think that I forgot about your atrocious fucking uniform, Khakis.”
“It’s fine”
“No, it isn’t”
“Beth.” They nearly snarled, the words snagging on ragged edges as they tensed and drew themselves up, “It’s. Fine.”
Finally! There was that fucking confirmation!
A throaty rumble echoed in the space between them. Gentle, in comparison to the thunder that she’s felt within her chest from her own experiences; But, coming from a vanilla, supposedly normal human? It was downright unsettling, almost uncanny with how close it sounded. Not entirely accurate, the human vocal cords could never hold the strain, but close enough that it might as well be the genuine thing if she didn’t have the enhanced senses of a shifter.
It was far too uncanny and unconventional for her own mind to conjure except for maybe in her worst nightmares and she sure as hell isn’t sleeping now.
She was tempted to push the issue more. Her sensibilities were calling for her to fix Khakis’ outfit so that they were wearing something that wasn’t glorified rags, but seeing how tense the ranger was; how their shoulders drew close to their ears and their hands clenched into fists…
It could wait.
She had all the time in the world after all, and from what it seemed like, Ranger would be sticking around.
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3.
Simon would like to think of himself as someone who wasn’t easily phased. People lived on a spectrum and as such ranged wildly between individuals. It didn’t matter much to him. Didn’t affect his job. Didn’t hurt his family. Didn’t matter to him.
That said, there were still some things that were so odd that he couldn’t help but watch. Like watching a house catch fire.
Or watching as the Ranger, who he’s seen Claire ever so slowly grow fond of, gave a distinctly animalistic cock of their head as they heard a faint rustling in the leaf litter off to their right.
The pack had gathered together for a nice fall barbeque before Halloween hit. Winter seemed to be coming early this year as there was a nip in the air even when he was wearing a few layers while manning the grill. The cold hadn’t quite fully settled in yet, no ice on the rooftop or snow on the lawn, certainly a little damp and misty though. Which had apparently not been enough to stop the pups from wanting to run around and roughhouse. Little Isla in particular was quite determined in pulling Ranger in for their games, pulling on their arm and manhandling them to the gaggle of children that were awaiting.
She was being quite successful too up to that point, but whatever caught Ranger’s attention had them quickly shushing the child while they stalked forward, slowly shifting their weight into a crawl. Isla and the children, catching onto the Ranger’s shift in attitude, quickly caught on and kept deathly quiet. Unnaturally still as they watched the human slowly creep into the underbrush. In the back of his mind, Simon offhandedly wondered if they needed to look into checking in with the kids for the aftermath of the incident. They had never personally witnessed or suffered from it, thank goodness, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be affected by the aftermath. It was one of the many little things that seemed to slip through the cracks as the pack scrambled to recover with the members that remained. Knight’s protective streak and guilt complex, Claire’s workaholic attitude, Beth’s nightmares; all of them were things to look into that they didn’t have the time for until now.
Ranger suddenly exploded into motion, their hand blurring forward as they snatched something that squeaked and squalled in indignation over being grabbed. A squirrel, if he was guessing right from the glimpse that he saw of it before the kids started crowding around oohing and ahhing in wonder over the small creature. None of the kids had ever shifted before, so seeing wild animals was by no means a common experience for them like it was for the older members of the pack.
Simon turned back to the grill, checking on the patties and various veggies that were by now fully cooked and started assembling burgers. Investigations could wait, they were already sitting around for years at this point. Waiting for a little bit more wouldn’t hurt.
For now, there was a successful hunt to celebrate.
4.
“There is no way,” Claire distinctly remembers saying to Beth as she shot her beta, right-hand man, and most importantly,
little shit
of a best friend; the most disbelieving of looks, “that Ranger-?”
Beth nods, an impish grin upon her face, “Yup”
“The no-maj”
“We know any other?”
“The one who just healed from having their memory erased?”
“Again, do you know any other ranger who wears those shitty khakis?”
“You know that if anything, they’re supposed to be the most normal out of us considering we have all of…this.” She remembers gesturing awkwardly between the two of them to gesticulate the oddness they had to live with on a daily basis. Just a couple of hours ago almost the entire pack had to scramble around like a kicked-over anthill looking for the right shears to cut Tristan out of a metal can he had stuck himself into.
“And you should know that normal is relative. You remember in high school, there was that one girl who would sneak onto campus at night looking for ‘martian activity’.” Beth replied, enunciating her words with finger quotations before shaking her head and waving her hand, “You’ll see well enough if you don’t believe me. It’s bound to happen eventually since it seems like a habit they do by instinct”
“Beth, I also remember when you swore that the nerdy kid from our science class was secretly some kind of serial killer when they could hardly lift anything heavier than their pencil.” She remembers almost scoffing, “We’re all fucking adults anyways. There’s no way that Ranger hasn’t outgrown the teenager roleplaying at being a werewolf phase.”
“Alright, bet-” Beth had shrugged, nonchalant, “-you owe me twenty when you eventually find out on your own”
“Fifteen”
“Ten and a favor”
“....Fine”
And…
..Well
…It looks like she owes Beth her payment. Eventually. She never specified when she’d pay for her bet after all.
She doesn’t quite remember how this situation came about but one thing led to another and now she’s buried under the laundry with a particularly smug ranger in khakis smirking down at her, a very distinct, airy, almost-sneeze-snuffle sound emitting from them. If she wasn’t told beforehand, she probably wouldn’t even have noticed it with how naturally it came from them and how desensitized she was to the sound, which had long since become familiar to her.
If this had been the first incident that this came about she would have probably brushed it off as coincidental, or a figment of her imagination that she ended up hearing by mistake. This was the fifth time she’s heard this specific noise come from the ranger. Within the day.
Letting her own smile spread in an almost predatory manner, she allowed Ranger a few seconds headstart, which they readily took, shooting out of the back door like a bullet, before racing off after them.
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5.
Ro liked to think of themselves as someone who would gladly abide by the law. Laws and regulation were made for a reason after all, and in most cases, for the safety of everyone being crammed into the sardine can called a city. Laws, regulation, rules; all the same thing with the only difference being the severity of the consequences. Some were annoying to deal with; some were just stupid. Others were like having your teeth pulled out by the dentist. A necessity, but far from what one would think of as an experience they would voluntarily go through.
“Heyyy, p-pre-pretty thing,” a sour smelling hiccup blew across their face in such close proximity that they didn’t dare to back up, claustrophobia quickly settling in once they vaguely registered that they were loosely encircled, “watcha doin in a place like thiss? Coming out here looking all finee like that?”
Case in point. Shifters and vampires in particular had…heavy policies in place regarding the use of their powers. Including that of their baseline strength against non-magic wielders. A normal, run-in-the-mill human is so fragile after all, that it only makes sense that those who would naturally be stronger than a baseline human shouldn’t be able to openly wield their strength. Too many would be incentivised to simply force their way when their strength came so naturally. The laws regarding shifters in particular were rather strictly enforced too. Where an elementalist or telepath would be able to use their powers if they were discreet enough about it, shifters didn’t have anything near that amount of leeway.
Of course, they knew that if Claire or Beth knew about what kind of situation they were in they would say to fuck the law in a hearbeat but…It was only recently that the pack’s mess was sorted out and they didn’t want to add Claire’s workload because she always works so late trying to do stuff for the pack and- and- and-
A sob stifled their throat.
They had just wanted to explore and maybe take a peek at a bar or two. Not actually go inside! But just…look. It was getting close to their birthday and they were almost at the legal drinking age, so they were curious about it. About what kind of atmosphere and environment it would be like. What kinds of drinks went where? They guessed that they got their answer.
They weren’t scared . They could shift into a wolf after all, and their form was still growing!
But…they kind of wished that they could shift in situations like this. Where it felt like grease was spreading across their skin just from being close to this many people in this kind of state.
They should’ve just shifted and played at being some large stray dog wandering around. Keep it safe, but…but they just. Wanted to feel nice. Beth had only just finished making this new outfit for them but this one was one that they helped to design! It was their first time doing something so cool that they could show off like this! They hadn’t wanted to show it to Tristan or anyone else from the pack yet because it wasn’t completely finished and there were still some kinks to work out but that didn’t necessarily mean that they couldn’t show it off in a little test run…
Except it seemed like showing off was exactly what got them into this trouble
“Hey,” a large hand enclosed around their shoulder, the touch feeling like ants crawling over their skin, “are you listening to me?”
No, if they were being completely honest, but saying the truth would earn them, at best, a knuckle sandwich in the current situation. They couldn’t say yes either because that might end up with the men taking them somewhere and they just want to go home-
A screech of metal from further down the street interrupted their spiral; the men surrounding them briefly separated for a moment to allow them a glimpse of what made the noise. A person, they weren’t quite sure of their gender, was slowly stalking down towards them, a metal pipe clenched in their hand that they dragged along the ground. They wore dark clothing, with slight flashes of metal glimmering in the moonlight that they could only recognize as delicate chains after they passed the fence of swaying drunks and stopped directly in front of them.
They took a glance at them, before tracking the hand on their shoulder to the leader of the group.
“This something you wanted?”
They vehemently shook their head
The vigilante(?) nodded, slightly shifting their feet into a balanced stance. Their spine straightened as they glowered directly into the leader’s eyes.
“Off”
The leader gave a confused frown, his hand tightening on their shoulder as he visibly swayed for a moment.
“Or else what?”
The vigilante raised an eyebrow, the pipe in their hand clattering noisily as it skittered and bounced in front of them before they flicked it up.
The leader shouted in pain as the vigilante stood in front of them, pipe (that they could now see had some twisted rebar twined around it, specks of blood and rust scattered over its surface) resting against their shoulder. Their eyes seemed to almost glow menacingly in the moonlight as they lowered their head in challenge to the enraged gang.
“I won’t ask again. Leave.”
One of the men stepped forward, undoubtedly to try and argue before the pipe that was resting on the vigilante’s(? Good Samaritan?) shoulder once again drew a line between them. Across his face. Some of his friends lunged forward, undoubtedly to try to give some form of payback before they too were beaten back by the metal stick.
They could see the situation escalating, uneasily stepping forward to the vigilante to try and see if they could deescalate the situation somehow before the vigilante spoke again.
Their other hand, that they thought was not holding anything, flourished and whipped forward, revealing a small knife nestled snugly within their palm
“If you don’t want to lose an eye, leave. Now .”
The men scrambled to leave rather quickly after that.
The vigilante stood vigilant for a minute. Ensuring that the drunks had well and truly left before turning back to them.The scent of thistlewood and pine swept across them. Familiar and almost comforting because of it.They couldn’t quite place where they had encountered that scent before until the vigilante spoke. The familiar voice and scent clicking into place once they realized what place the other person was speaking of.
“You want me to take you back to the Den?”
“I- wh- huh- Ranger?!! ”
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+1.
There were few things that Ranger could stand in the wake of being unceremoniously forced into consciousness. One was coffee, as the blessing that it was despite tasting absolutely foul, for allowing them to function in a reasonable timeframe. The second was Claire, as their reluctantly favorite person.
A privilege that they were contemplating revoking.
“Come on Hotshot,” she teased, a smirk slowly growing on her mouth as she dangled their favorite mug out of reach, “No good morning? No kisses? I went through all of this trouble preparing breakfast and coffee just the way you like it and you aren’t even going to say thanks?”
Sunlight streamed through the window, lighting her in an almost angelic atmosphere that they promptly ignored in favor of the fact that she was holding their favorite mug in hand. With coffee. Inside.
They made to grab for it once, twice; each time the mug was snatched out of reach while the alpha’s smirk grew wider, obviously waiting for something in return for the coffee.
With the rate she was testing them by dangling such glorious ambrosia right in front of them they were contemplating their chances with the pack should they commit a little bit of manslaughter. Surely, they would understand the situation that their alpha put them in? Probably not.
One last aborted attempt left them sprawled over the island counter before they gave up. Claire, of course, was laughing at their pitiful state.
Glowering at the unrepentant alpha, they slowly walked closer to her and brought her face close. Almost as if they were going to give her a peck on the cheek, before they snatched the coffee away and stole a quick sip before she attempted to snatch it back. They huffed, playing a brief game of keep away with her while they meandered around the kitchen to where they could safely rest their prize on the countertop apart from the mess made from cooking.
At this point, their partner was still trying to make a grab for it, which they quickly dissuaded by grabbing the offending hand and giving it a sharp nip.
“Why do you always go after my mug,” they complained, pinning her other hand to the countertop.
“Because you make it so easy?” She seemed to struggle against them for a minute before quickly giving up once she realized that she couldn’t snake her way out of their grasp, “Now are you going to keep using my fingers as a chew toy or are we going to eat breakfast now?”
“As long as you don’t go after it again,” They grudgingly released her captive limbs, picking up their mug again and taking a sip while heading over to the table before freezing, the rest of Claire’s statement registering in their head.
Claire turned once she realized that they hadn’t joined her at the table yet, concern forming wrinkles between her brows, “Something wrong, Hotshot?”
“No- well- Maybe?”
“That…is not very reassuring. Where’s the fire?”
“I bit you”
“Yeah?”
“I bit you”
“You’re saying this as if you haven’t been doing it for the past couple of months”
They set their mug back onto the counter with a heavy thump , face twisting in astonishment
“ I’ve been biting you?!??”
“Yes?” Claire’s face had slowly relaxed as their conversation went on, instead becoming increasingly more amused as she seemed to realize what they were having a crisis over.
“Why?!!”
“Well, why not? It’s not like it hurts and it’s not the craziest shit I’ve had to suffer through. Hell it’s nothing compared to some of the stories the pack have told me about you”
There was a pause as they stared at her, bug-eyed and mouth agape as they remembered how they were acting around the pack for the last half-year at the very least, before they slowly sank down to the floor in embarrassment, face tucked into their knees as they groaned.
“ Shiiiiiiiit .”
At the very least, they moped when they eventually dragged themselves over to the table, Claire full on wheezing in laughter as they brought themselves to sit in the other chair, the pack didn’t seem offended by how they were acting. Despite the fact that they were werewolves. And they had been mimicking the habits they adopted from when they had been raised with a few work dogs when they had been a child. Oh god, they thought they’d kicked the worst of them to the curb once they started working here but apparently not . Claire was still bent over the table and laughing at them, only a bit more quiet now that they’ve recovered.
“There, there,” she was able to eventually gasp out, very unconvincingly trying to reassure them of their plight, “Nobody was offended from it and it wasn’t like you hurt anybody”
“I guess…”
“Come on, Hotshot. It’s really fine. If anything it was a bit funny with how you were acting more like a wolf than the actual, real-life werewolves right in front of you.”
Reluctantly, they let the matter go. If Claire was saying that it was alright then it was unlikely that the rest of the pack would have anything to say about it. Hopefully.
They still stole the rest of her bacon as payment for their absolutely justified revenge.