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the night the lights went out

Summary:

Fang is forced to tell a story.

prompt: story time & "are you cold?"

Fluffvember prompts following the annoying, emotional, wonderful polycule of Izzy, Fang, Pete, Lucius and Frenchie. Navigating new additions, big life changes, and a whole fucking lot of sappy love.

Work Text:

It's incredible how quickly everyone leaves their respective rooms when the power goes out. Cell phone lights guide their way as they join each other in the living room to consider what the fuck is going on.

“Wasn't that thunder loud?” Fang shakes. He's always hated loud thunderstorms and this time was no exception.

“Are you cold?” Pete wraps an arm around him and rubs at his back to warm him up. At least it starts to calm him.

“Do you think the whole neighborhood is out?” Lucius is huddled by the window, his robe tight around his body as he stares out into the darkness.

“Wait,” Pete looks around, almost counting on his fingers, “where's Izzy?”

“Checking the circuit breaker.”

“Well thank god there’s an adult that lives here,” Lucius sighs and leaves the window, finding a place on the sofa instead. Who knows how long it’ll be before the lights come back on, and now they have to find some way to entertain themselves.

It's not long before Izzy joins the bunch, candles clutched in both arms. He sets them up on the coffee table and grumbles, “can't just be us, the whole neighbor must be out.”

“Great,” Lucius whines, “I was in the middle of something. When will it be back?”

Izzy snorts, flicking his lighter and holding the flame to the wick, “do I look like the electric company? It's back when it's back.”

Everyone in this room is old enough to remember what it was like before the internet, but apparently it was hard for them to remember what they did for fun before the internet because for a brief moment they all sit in silence, staring at each other in the candlelight.

“I'm bored.” Pete mumbles, fingers curling in Fang’s beard for comfort; for both of them, it would seem.

“How are you bored? We just lost power.” Izzy watches the flame dancing on the candles in front of him.

“I'm bored, too.” Lucius pipes up, scooting to where Pete and Fang were seated.

“We could tell stories!” Fang finally snaps out of his stupor, looking around the room to gauge everyone’s reactions. Except Izzy’s, of course, because he was definitely glaring from across the living room.

“I'm first!” Lucius calls.

No, no,” Izzy shakes his head, “I'm not going to listen to the story about the Italian leather loafers under the bathroom stall at Jackie's again, twatty.”

“Uh, everyone loves a good gloryhole story, but that's not the story I was going to tell, thank you.”

“I like your gloryhole story, babe.” Pete pats his thigh with his free hand.

“Aw, thanks babe.”

Izzy whines in pain, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and forefinger, “Fang, please.”

“Oh! Me? Okay…let’s see,” he thinks for a moment before he nods to himself, “got it. Once upon a time…”


On a cold winter morning, just as the sun was rising to its peak, a lonely fox was wandering in the woods. Winter had always been rough for the poor creature, because he was all alone. His family had abandoned him early on and he found that the only person he could rely on was himself. Shelter and food were scarce, though, and as the days dragged on and his belly ached, he wondered if he would survive.

By pure luck, the fox happened upon a cave. He peered in, checking to see if anything was already inside. It was dark, and foreboding, but the fox knew that if it was empty, he would be safe. Safe from the cold blustery night; safe from threats.

See? I don't need anyone! The fox said to himself as he entered the cave. I can take care of myself!

But the little fox was scared. He was so tired of struggling alone, of searching each corner and crevice for danger. The little fox laid down on the cool dirt floor, dropping his head between his paws. He should try and sleep, needing rest for the night's hunt, but caution swirled inside of him noisily.

The little fox’s ear twitched, the slightest sound calling his attention. It’s only the wind, he thought, even though his head was already swiveling. Just the wind, he had to tell himself. It was only the wind whistling through the cave. It wasn't the patch of darkness that was looming behind him. The darkness that seemed to be getting closer and closer.

“Why are you in my house?”

The little fox’s fur shot straight up on his back as he jumped to his feet, backing into the cave wall behind him. He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, his head darting back and forth. He wasn't scared! He was preparing to fight! He just didn't know where his challenger was.

“Who's there?” The little fox asked, trying to stabilize his voice.

Through the darkness a silhouette appeared, inching towards him like a storm cloud. It gave way once the creature stepped into what little light there was, revealing a big gray wolf. The little fox trembled. Usually wolves and foxes left each other alone, working only for their own survival, but it wasn't entirely impossible for the little fox to be swallowed up whole. He’d heard stories before.

“What do you want?” The wolf cried, and it was then that the little fox noticed how hard the wolf’s fur shook in fear.

“I was looking for shelter.” The little fox replied, “I thought I was alone.”

The wolf stuck close to the opposite wall. How could he be so scared of such a small animal? He could gobble the little fox up!

“You're not here to hurt me?” The wolf asked, his voice small.

How absurd! To think the little fox could hurt without necessity.

“Not until you give me a reason!” The little fox felt himself relax as he stared at the wolf in front of him. He didn't look like other wolf’s the little fox had seen at a distance. He was just as large, but where cold fury usually rested, he seemed soft. “Are you all alone?”

The wolf nodded, still keeping his distance.

“Me too.” The little fox offered. He wasn't sure why he did, it could be a trick for the wolf to answer that he was alone. His family could be waiting to attack, to have a little fox snack inside this sad, cold cave.

But none came. The little fox scooted closer, wanting a better view of the wolf in front of him.

“I've been so lonely,” the wolf cried, “everyone’s trying to hurt me, I don't know where to turn.”

The little fox nodded. He knew the feeling well, but what were they to do? They were only here for nature to take its course. He woke up to hunt, only rested to hunt, and only hunted to survive. The little fox looked at the wolf again, his giant frame, his big pointy teeth.

“Say,” the little fox smiled, “why don't we stick together? We can watch each other's backs!”

The wolf looked up from the dirt floor, his ears twitching up towards the ceiling. Excitement took over him as he spun in a circle, dropping down on his front legs with his tail in the air.

“Do you mean it? You're my friend?”

Friend. The little fox didn't know that word until now.

The little fox nodded, “friends.”

And they both lived happily ever after in their cave, hunting together and playing together until old age.


The room is quiet when Fang finishes; everyone staring at him. Izzy's the first to stir, getting up from his spot on the floor and making his way to the sofa.

“Move.” He commands, pointing to Pete. Pete starts to protest, but Izzy must have a look about him because he moves only a moment later. Izzy slots himself right into the crook of Fang’s arm where Pete had just been.

In the silence, Pete nudges forward, wrapping his around Izzy. Shockingly, he doesn't push him away, just curls deeper into the pile he's found himself in the middle of.

Above them, thunder crashes and rumbles, and for the first time all night, Fang doesn't even flinch.

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