Archive of Our Own

Aether's scent is…difficult to describe. Wriothesley has been trying to puzzle it out since they met with little success.

Most people who enter the Fortress he can pinpoint instantly; the sour odour of guilt, the rank stench of anger, the horribly, suggestively organic scent of fear.

Aether though. Whatever his scent is, Wriothesley cannot figure out what it is for the life of him.

Ozone and open sky? No, that's not quite right…

Normally something like this would raise his hackles, make his teeth ache as if simply biting the problem would make it go away. It's never worked in the past (or only worked once, really) but who could say when it might become universally applicable. Regardless, the not knowing sent his instincts into a spin and his mind going a million miles a second.

Blood and iron? Well, yes, he is a renowned swordsman, but that isn't entirely it either.

He wants to figure it out if only for his own  relative peace of mind.

Aether once asked him how he always knew what the time was, but how exactly could he describe the fact that he always just…knew? There was no way for him to not know, the same way he always knew when the tides changed, and when he had to leave and hide away for a few days so he wouldn’t accidentally harm any of his foster siblings during one of his rampages before he learned how to control himself.

What some of Fontaine’s and Sumeru’s greatest minds had spent centuries trying to learn came to him instinctively, the way animals in the wild could sense a storm coming before humans could even see a cloud in the sky.

The moon, then? No, that is a scent with which Wriothesley is intimately familiar, and while Aether doesn’t smell entirely different from that, he doesn’t smell overly like it, either.

Things are different now, obviously, since he came to reside in the Fortress. He can't exactly just leave for days at a time until his body decides to cooperate.

Now when this part of the lunar cycle comes around, he spends the first night in the Forbidden Zone hidden away from anyone who might come looking, and the next few days he spends cooped up in his office where he won't be disturbed except in the most urgent of circumstances.

Some part of him had always hoped that, with being shackled here and hidden away from the moonlight, he might overcome that part of himself, but no. He could never be so fortunate.

Even now, even leagues below the sea he feels it. He’s only encountered one or two others like himself and all of them say it’s like a calling, like a reminder, a memory. He supposes it is all of those things, but it is also none of those things. Mostly it’s like….it’s like…..

A now very familiar scent wafts up through his office, and Wriothesley releases the grip he has on the edge of his desk where he’s been trying to will his claws not to extend. His nails itch with the need for it, with the reminder that in just a little under an hour the sun will set on the world above and the moon will rise in its place, casting its light on the world and everything and everyone in it, whether they are prepared or not.

Even after all these years of careful practice it still sets him on edge, and he’s been waiting somewhat impatiently for the rest of the Fortress to turn in for the night so he can make his retreat with as little personal interaction as possible. The guards know not to question him or look too closely, but when all of his senses are dialled up to eleven it’s just easier to avoid people as much as possible and any of the awkward scenarios that can potentially arise.

Sigewinne is generally the only person he permits to see him in such a state. She's proven time and again that she is more than capable of handling the more unsavoury aspects of his condition, whether that be chastising him as one would a disobedient puppy, or dosing him up with enough tranquilliser so that he poses about as much threat as a day old kitten.

Aether has never had the…misfortune of seeing Wriothesley as anything other than what most people know him to be; a very tall and broad human man, albeit one who is quite hairy and tends to growl when annoyed. He might have an inkling of what exactly Wriothesley is, but has at least been polite enough not to pry up until now. If he’s paying a visit tonight of all nights, he may just get a front row seat.

The door to his office creaks open below and the space is filled instantly with Aether’s mouthwatering scent. Even if Wriothesley doesn’t know exactly what it is, there’s no denying that it is undeniably appealing; somehow soothing and exciting at once. He wants to bury his face into Aether’s neck or his belly, curl between his legs with his head on his thigh and just breathe it in until he’s gone scent blind to everything else.

That’s one of his more tame fantasies anyway.

Wriothesley can hear the careful movements below, the nearly inaudible swish of Aether’s clothing and the whisper of his hair as it moves behind him, and he forces himself to take up a pen and paper to at least give the impression that he’s been doing something useful with his time and hasn’t been immediately on alert since he first caught Aether’s scent when he stepped off the elevator.

Light steps up the outside curve of the stairs, and Wriothesley takes a few seconds to collect himself before he looks up as Aether crests the top.

If he thought Aether was bright before…

To Wriothesley's heightened senses he radiates light; the gold of his hair and eyes puts the sun to shame, every one of his freckles standing out luminous along his arms and across his nose and cheeks.

“Everything okay?” he hears Aether ask, and his voice is like a symphony, sending involuntary shivers down his spine.

“Fine,” he says, but even he can tell how unconvincing he sounds, voice tight.

Aether narrows his eyes. Whereas most people around here would just ignore it, Aether has never had any compunction about calling Wriothesley out on his bullshit.

He moves closer, and Wriothesley grinds his aching teeth together where they're trying to lengthen and slide out of his gums. He wants to…what? Wants to bite? To rend and tear? No, not Aether, never him, but there's no denying that his mere presence elicits a certain hunger that goes deeper than gut level.

Aether is standing beside him now and this close his scent overpowers everything else, forcing Wriothesley to screw his eyes shut as unnamed desire ripples through him. Not now, not now.

“You don't look so good. Do you want me to get Sigewinne?”

Sigewinne won't be able to help with this. What Wriothesley needs is to push Aether to the floor and curl around him, nuzzle and mouth over every inch of sun kissed skin until he smells of them, together. To strip them both and drag him back to bed to burrow under mounds of blankets, bare skin to warm fur until it's impossible to separate them. Needs to -

Aether's hand lands on top of his head, fingers digging into his scalp, and it takes every scrap of Wriothesley’s tenuous self control to not whimper and lean into the touch. He can feel the whine trying to claw its way out of his throat and he drops what he's holding in favour of fisting his hands, nails that have already grown sharper biting into the skin of his palms.

He shoves his chair back and pushes himself up, leaning on his desk and Aether's hand falls away as he takes a few steps back.

“Wriothesley?”

There's an undercurrent of concern to Aether's scent now; not of fear for his own safety but of worry for him.

“I'm good, let's just,” and here Wriothesley has to pause as he grits his teeth, feeling the points of his canines pressing against his bottom lip, “Let's get out of here.”

There's still some time until moonrise, but apparently that doesn't matter this time as his body is convinced that it needs to change now, right now. He hasn't experienced this sort of frantic urge since he was younger, before he learned to keep himself mostly under control instead of becoming little more than a rampaging beast, terrified that what he turned into was the real him. There's no active threat here, no stimuli that might cause such a reaction, there's only Aether.

Aether won't hurt him, and Wriothesley has never felt this way around him before, even other times when he's visited shortly before this part of the lunar phase. If anything, he's only ever felt more grounded when Aether is around, more in control.

What could possibly be setting him off?

He doesn’t wait for Aether to answer him before he circles his desk and heads for the stairs, but he can feel the weight of the frown levelled at his retreating back as he descends the stairs two at a time with Aether’s quiet tread close behind him.

“Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?”

“Later.”

His voice is getting rougher, already underlined with a growl and he can feel his throat constricting as his vocal cords change.

There's no time to waste. He's got to get somewhere safe, somewhere out of the way.

They've descended deeper into the Forbidden Zone than Aether has ever been before. This far down there's more naked rock face than metal, the way lit only intermittently by faintly buzzing lanterns with glass so cloudy it doesn't look like they've been cleaned in decades. They cast strange, blocky shadows on the wall as the two of them pass by.

Wriothesley doesn’t look good, and he doesn't sound much better, either. His shoulders are hunched, his whole body tensing off and on as if he's fighting some internal battle. His breathing comes short and rough, more like an animal than a human.

His hair is definitely getting longer, too. He'd left his jacket and tie behind in his office, and Aether can see it growing and spreading further down the back of his neck and under the collar of his shirt.

Aether had had to hurry to keep up with his furious stride, but now he stops, folding his arms over his chest.

“I'm not going any further until you tell me what's going on,” he says, defiant.

Wriothesley pauses, and then rounds on him. There’s a dark look on his face, brows furrowed and sweat beading on his forehead. His lips are pulled back from off his teeth; or his fangs would probably be more accurate. Aether is quite intimately familiar with his teeth, and he's certain that they have never been quite so…formidable.

“Later,” Wriothesley grits out, or at least that's what Aether thinks he says. It sounded more like a bark than a word.

Aether is momentarily taken aback by the sudden ferocity but stands his ground, and for his part Wriothesley looks ashamed of himself.

He scrubs a hand down his face, and from the small glimpse Aether can see that his nails are also much longer than normal, not to mention how much more hairy his arm looks.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

There's no need to think about it, no need for second guessing, but that is definitely not the kind of question you spring on someone at a time like this.

Wriothesley turns back and starts walking again, clearly expecting Aether to follow him, “Easier to show you. Not too far.”

Each word is bitten out, forced to sound human from vocal cords that are desperately trying to be something else, and dammit he really does know Aether too well because he continues following without any further protest.

True to his word, they arrive at their destination after another few short minutes of walking.

Behind a makeshift door set crudely into the wall is a small room, though it's really more of a hovel. There's barely enough room for Wriothesley to stand straight without the top of his head brushing the ceiling, and the space is lit only by a guttering light that casts a dim, orange glow over everything.

There's a few metal plates and pillars in the walls for structural stability, all of them worn and rusted after who knew how many years of wear. The remaining rock walls are in a similar state, deep gouges and scratches marring the surface as if some terrifying beast of antiquity had attempted to rend them apart with its claws.

A single bed is the only furniture in the room and it's in the same rough condition as the rest of the space. The thin legs have long collapsed, leaving it askew and forlorn on the floor. There are tears in the mattress where the remains of straw stuffing peeks through. An alleged blanket is spread haphazardly across it, and while Aether thinks at first that it's covered in some kind of mould or dirt, he realises it's actually clumps of grey and black hair.

Wriothesley isn't really paying attention to him anymore. Aether watches as he fights with the buttons and snaps of his clothes, his fingers clumsy and movements unsteady.

Aether approaches cautiously, hovering, uncertain of how to help.

“Would you just tell me what's going on?”

Wriothesley manages to claw both his shirt and undershirt off, and Aether can see where his hair has grown mane-like around his neck and shoulders, with more sprouting along his sides and under his arms.

“Are you turning into something? Does it hurt?”

Aether has seen similar things before and it's never gone well.

He reaches out and places his hand on Wriothesley’s arm, wanting to do something, anything, but Wriothesley shakes him off, snapping his jaws together.

Okay, enough being nice.

There's no way Aether is just going to stand here and watch as Wriothesley suffers. Whatever is happening to him isn't going to happen in this lonely, dark little place.

He's still got his pack on his shoulder and he digs around inside until he finds the tile for his teapot. Tubby is travelling and there wasn't anyone else visiting last he checked, so it should be fine.

“Sorry,” he says as he prepares to open the way, “I'm not sure if this is going to play nice with whatever's going on, but it's the best idea I've got!”

Aether lands on his feet, Wriothesley isn't so lucky, crashing down heavily beside him with a distinctly canine yelp.

“Sorry, sorry!”

The sun had been just about to set when he'd arrived at the elevator earlier, but now the moon is starting to rise over the little archipelago, casting pale light over the islands and the softly lapping waves.

Wriothesley pushes himself up, still ignoring him, and works on removing the rest of his clothes.

“Hey we can go inside if -” Aether starts to say.

“Don't look!” comes the snapped out response, the human words barely audible through the snarl.

“But -”

Wriothesley has succeeded in ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, and Aether can see his muscles and veins bulging and straining against the confines of his skin, which is pulled taut over them. In normal circumstances, Aether would happily take the opportunity to ogle his naked body, but now….

“Don't look!”

The order comes sharp, barely sounding human at all anymore.

Aether shuts his eyes and covers them with his hands for good measure.

Wriothesley seemed very adamant that Aether not see whatever process is about to happen, but his ears work perfectly fine.

He hears what's left of the human voice give way to a bestial snarl, the stretch and snap of bones and tendons, and what sounds like skin being shredded. He hears hands scrabbling for purchase in the soft earth, and then the rending of something sharp tearing it away, and then something massive collapsing to the ground.

Eventually all he can hear is a rough panting, and then a soft, pained whimper. He still doesn't open his eyes.

“Wriothesley?”

There's no response, though he probably should have expected that.

Aether hears the grass move as something approaches him. The soft light from the artificial moon above is blocked as a great shape looms over him, and he  fights down the instinct to throw a punch first and ask questions later as his unhelpful brain tries to tell him that what's standing in front of him is a predator. For once, Aether knows better.

Something cool and damp touches his stomach. Aether guesses that's his cue to take a look. He drops his hands and blinks his eyes open.

Where once stood a naked human man now stood an absolutely massive wolf, and Aether has to take a few steps back to see all of him.

The eyes catch his attention first; pale grey turned to bright silver, scar still visible under the right one. His fur is mostly black, but there's some grey streaked in his ruff, and a handful of whitish scar traces litter his body. Solid muscles ripple under his fur as he moves closer.

Wriothesley crouches low in front of him so his head is at Aether's chest height, looking up at him with what Aether interprets as expectation, and he can see a bushy tail wagging slowly back and forth behind him.

Cautiously he extends his arm, hand held open with the palm up. Wriothesley watches him intently until Aether's hand lands on top of his head, fingers sinking into the thick fur around his skull.

That's apparently all the permission he needs. Wriothesley shoves his muzzle into Aether's chest, rubbing his big head all over his shoulders and torso before licking at his face and jaw. Aether splutters as his weird, slimy tongue licks unexpectedly into his mouth, jerking his head back and pinching his lips shut. Makeouts were not exactly what he was expecting.

Wriothesley pulls his head back and lowers it, whuffing apologetically, ears drooping.

“Hey, it's okay,” Aether says, like he's comforting a skittish pet dog and not the Duke of Meropide who is temporarily…indisposed, “Uh, let's maybe just save kissing until after you're human shaped again.”

Wait, does Wriothesley even understand him? Is he going to remember this once he changes back?

Wriothesley tilts his head to one side, looking so uncannily like he does when he's human shaped that it leaves Aether momentarily stunned until Wriothesley pushes his muzzle against his belly, sniffing under his arms and around his sides.

It kind of tickles, and Aether finds himself quivering as Wriothesley continues to rub his head against him, feeling the occasional hint of a sharp fang as he brushes the side of his muzzle over bare skin.

Eventually satisfied, Wriothesley pulls his head back and moves away, though not before giving Aether one last lick directly on his mouth and Aether swears he sees a spark of very human contrariness in his eyes.

“Hey! You ass,” he grouses, frowning and Wriothesley sneezes, shaking his head.

Wriothesley steps back and stands up on his hind legs, and then keeps going up. And up. And up. Aether doesn’t really get how his anatomy works or where the extra mass came from, but he’s seen weirder things and really he’s a little too distracted by just how very big Wriothesley is now to put too much thought into it.

Wriothesley looms above him, each paw large enough to wrap around his entire head and tipped with vicious looking claws. There’s more grey fur on his undersides, but Aether politely averts his eyes rather than continuing to look down, even though Wriothesley seems entirely shameless and there’s just more thick fur covering whatever his whole…situation is.

He isn’t looking at Aether any longer, instead sweeping his eyes around the vast space of the Realm Within, nostrils flaring as he takes in the scent of ocean air and sweet grass and swaying flowers and everything else, ears swivelling as a gentle breeze sends nearby treetops swaying.

How long has it been since he’s been under the sky for this? From the look of that dank little cavern in the Forbidden Zone with its rusted metal, scratched up walls, and splintered furniture it had to have been…what. Years? A decade or two? More than that? Aether can’t imagine hiding himself away for so long without going stir crazy.

Wriothesley drops back to all four paws and turns away, padding closer to the shoreline and looking out toward the little island with its lazy windmill and the endless ocean beyond. Despite Tubby's absence the artificial sky remains clear of clouds save for the occasional wisp, the moon and distant starlight casting everything in a pale, silvery glow.

Aether steps closer, unsure of his next move but feeling like proximity is a good start at least.

“Is there….anything you want to do?” he asks as he draws alongside Wriothesley. Even with him standing on four paws Aether barely reaches his shoulder. He carefully stretches his arm out and buries his fingers in the fur of his mane, hand sinking in nearly to the wrist.

He isn’t expecting an answer and Wriothesley doesn’t really give him one, but Aether does feel his throat working beneath his hand and then hears what sounds like a low whine.

Wriothesley tilts his head down, lips pulling back from off his fangs, and lets out a rumbling growl that trails off in another whine. It almost sounds like he's frustrated; with himself, with the situation, or with something else entirely, it was impossible to know.

Aether feels at a loss, unsure of what exactly he can do or say.

Hmmm.

He lowers himself down to sit on the soft grass, leaning back on his hands. Wriothesley paces beside him, uncertainty rolling off him in waves as he pins his ears back.

The night is balmy, and the sky stretches endlessly above. It doesn't fully compare to the real thing in Aether's opinion, but it's still nice.

…That gives him an idea.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

Said wolf stops pacing, coming to rest just off to Aether's side. His ears are no longer pinned but his tail waves slowly behind him a few times before he partially tucks it between his hind legs.

Somehow the weight of his stare is more intense than when he's human shaped, his head tilted curiously to the side as Aether thinks carefully about how to word his question.

“Do you want to go for a run? Just to, I dunno…burn off some energy?”

Wait, is that demeaning? He's not a dog. Or not exactly a dog anyway, but still dog-like. It's not like they can spar either, or….other things.

Wriothesley tilts his head the other way, appearing to consider Aether's question.

“Forget I asked. I don’t even know if you understand what I'm saying.”

Aether lowers himself down to lie in the grass with a sigh. Some bright idea this was, but at least Wriothesley isn't shut away in some dark, cramped hovel like he seems to think he needs to be.

The grass rustles softly as Wriothesley pads closer, and a second later Aether's view of the sky is completely blocked by his massive body. Two silver eyes stare down at him, unblinking. Then Wriothesley lowers his head.

Oh no.

He licks Aether's hair and all over his face, only stopped from shoving his tongue into Aether’s mouth by hands raised just in time, pushing his muzzle away.

“Hey!”

Wriothesley pulls his head back and Aether pushes himself up on his elbows, wiping his face.

“I take it back, you definitely understand what I'm saying and you're being a complete dick about it.”

A soft whine and then a sneeze, not apologetic about slobbering all over him in the slightest.

If Aether wasn't already familiar with Wriothesley’s sense of humour, and hadn't just literally seen him - or rather, heard him - transform into the giant wolf now standing in front of him, he would have a difficult time believing they were one and the same. As it stands now, he's certain that Wriothesley is deliberately messing with him.

“I wish I knew how I could help you.”

Something damp touches his side.

Aether drops his arm and looks down to see Wriothesley nudging him with his snout, obviously trying to get him to sit up.

“What?”

A whine and another nudge. Aether obliges, pushing himself to his feet.

“Okay, what now?”

Wriothesley shoves at his back with his head, nipping at his heels when he stumbles.

“Oh now you want to run, huh? You want to chase me, is that it?”

Wriothesley stretches his forelegs out, back arched in a kind of bow.

“We're going to have to talk about this once you're human shaped again.”

There's something very thrilling about running from what is technically a predator while not necessarily being prey.

They've been running for hours now. Aether's legs are burning and his chest is heaving; he's long abandoned his shirt, scarf and armour on the ground outside the house along with Wriothesley’s clothes and sweat drips freely down his back and catches in his hair which he's taken out of his braid. For his part Wriothesley is panting heavily as well, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Aether has lost track of how many times he's been ‘caught’, and of how many times he's turned the tables.

At least he's nice enough to limit his victories to a little tap on the shoulder or muzzle, Wriothesley seems to prefer knocking him down. He'll push his shoulder or head into Aether’s back, or swipe one of his paws across the back of his legs and send him tumbling to the ground, where he'll then take the opportunity to tackle him and lick away all of Aether's sweat or go for his unprotected face and hair.

A few times he's knocked Aether over he's shoved his muzzle between his legs, giving him the most self satisfied look a wolf can have when Aether shoves him away with a laugh and a, “At least wait until you're human shaped!”

It's difficult to be annoyed when he looks for all the world like an overgrown puppy just playing with its favourite person.

Aether staggers to a halt in front of the house, flopping against the ground with an exhausted sigh, his arms flung out to the sides.

There's a patter of paws beside him in the soft grass, and he looks over as Wriothesley shakes himself vigorously before lying down next to him and stretching out on his side. He rests his head on Aether’s stomach, yawning hugely.

Aether can’t remember the last time he ran so much, or for so long. He'll be sore tomorrow - can already feel the twitch and burn of overworked muscles - but it was worth it.

Will Wriothesley remember this once he turns back? Or will he just remember the transformation, every experience lost to the in-between of man and wolf?

Aether pushes himself up with only a small amount of struggle, leaning back on his hands and watching as the first rosy threads of dawn start to creep along the horizon line, turning the sky and ocean from deepest black to rich navy blue.

Wriothesley had already been starting to change when Aether found him the previous night, just around the time the moon was rising; did that mean, then, that he would change back when the sun rose? It seemed a reasonable assumption.

Aether casts his eyes around until he finds the pile of their discarded clothes. If it is the case that Wriothesley changes with the sunrise, Aether suspects he won't want it to be while he's in the open and naked. He gently pushes Wriothesley’s head off of him, earning him an annoyed huff which he ignores.

“Come on I'm doing you a favour here, you'll thank me later. Let's go to bed.”

A little while later Aether crawls into bed and gets himself comfortably positioned against the pile of pillows at the headboard, tugging the sheets up to his waist. Early dawn light is starting to filter in through the closed curtains, and he rubs his eyes. He's been up now for almost a full twenty-four hours and after spending all night running around through the Realm Within at a tear he's really feeling it.

Getting Wriothesley up the stairs had been a production and a half; the sturdy wood creaking beneath his bulk and his great shoulders squeezed in tightly against the walls, knocking various picture frames and wall hangings askew.

He now stands at the foot of Aether's bed, eyeing it dubiously, head cocked to one side. Aether thinks he's really getting the hang of interpreting his expressions now, which would be cause for celebration if he wasn't so tired.

He stifles a yawn and then pats a spot beside him, beckoning.

“I dunno when you're going to change back but I'm exhausted. Are you coming up or not?”

Silver eyes flick between him and the bed, judging. Wriothesley yawns wide, lowering his head as if to sniff at the floorboards before making his decision.

He puts one paw on the mattress, testing how it holds before going ahead and pushing the rest of his massive body up. The bed frame shudders ominously as he settles his weight on it.

Aether had made sure to find an oversized mattress and frame when he was figuring out how to design things in here for just such an occasion as having to share with someone - or multiple someones if he could be so lucky - but even with just him in the bed, Wriothesley takes up the entire rest of the space when he lays down.

Hm, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Aether scoots up as much as he can, but Wriothesley still ends up on top of him with his big head resting on Aether’s chest. Warmth radiates from his body better than any down blanket, and Aether sighs as he wraps his arms around Wriothesley’s neck and gets himself settled as much as he can, finding it difficult to move from underneath the great mass of muscle and fur. If he really wanted he could push Wriothesley right off in an instant, but finds he's perfectly comfortable where he is.

He buries his fingers in Wriothesley’s mane, scratching gently and earning a contented sigh in return.

“We should do this again sometime,” he tells Wriothesley, “I mean. If you want to.”

A damp nose nudges against his throat, followed by a tiny lick. Aether isn't entirely sure if that means Wriothesley agrees or not, but he'll take it as a good sign regardless.

After a moment’s thought, he cranes his head down and brushes his lips across the satiny fur on top of Wriothesley’s muzzle, as close to a kiss as they can get at this point.

Wriothesley lifts his head, letting out a playful whine. Aether heaves another sigh as he realises exactly what he's after.

“Okay, okay, just this once.”

Actually, it will almost certainly end up being more than once, but he finds himself increasingly more open to the idea.

Wriothesley licks along his face a few times before going for his mouth, and while it's still a little too slimy for Aether's usual tastes, it's still not the worst kiss he's ever had. That dubious honour went to the Wanderer.

He turns his face away once he's had his fill, and Wriothesley’s head falls to his chest again, muzzle resting on his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Wriothesley. Or, good morning I guess.”

Aether lets his eyes fall shut, and drifts off to sleep not long after.

Rusty orange light greets Aether's eyes when he opens them next. Oh wow, he really slept all day…Wait.

There's no incredible weight pressing down on his chest any longer, no wild musk, and the hair currently tickling his chin is soft. There's bare skin under his hands rather than thick fur and as he stretches and tries to move his legs, he hears a soft and very human groan.

“Feeling better?” he asks as Wriothesley turns his face into his neck.

“Nnnnn…..morning,” comes the muffled reply, and while his voice sounds hoarse and sleep roughened, it's no longer underlined with growling.

“Actually it's evening now,” Aether says, because he has to, and that earns him blunt teeth carefully applied to his shoulder, “Hey!”

Wriothesley licks his shoulder as an apology.

“I still can't figure out what you smell like,” Wriothesley says, apropos of nothing.

“Huh?”

Instead of answering right away, Wriothesley just turns his face into Aether’s neck again, nuzzling in against him.

“You scent, I don't know what it is…It’s been driving me crazy trying to figure it out.”

Huh, is it really that important?

“Hmm, my friend Razor says I smell like windwheel asters,” he supplies helpfully, and Wriothesley huffs.

“I don't know what those smell like, but I don't think that's it….Doesn't matter…”

Well obviously it did or he wouldn't say anything to start with.

“I hope I smell good at least,” Aether says, and feels Wriothesley smile briefly against his neck.

“You do.”

They lay there in silence for a little while longer, and then someone's stomach rumbles loudly.

As cozy as staying in bed sounds, Aether figures that they'll both appreciate having food in their bellies in the long run. With how much energy they must have burned between them last night he's only surprised they didn't wake up before now.

He makes to get out of bed, but Wriothesley settles more firmly on top of him, tightening the loose hold he has around Aether's body.

Aether shoves at his shoulder, “Get off me so I can make dinner. Do you want to starve?”

Wriothesley just grunts at him, but makes no effort to move even though it's definitely his stomach that makes itself known a second later at the mention of food.

Aether just sighs. He didn't really want to do this, but he doesn’t want either of them to waste away. He easily untangles himself from Wriothesley’s hold, ignoring the series of annoyed growls as he manhandles him into the warm spot he leaves behind and tucks the blankets in around him.

“Oh shush, you baby. If everyone knew what a big suck you are when you're this tired maybe they wouldn't be so afraid of you.”

There's a rumble of laughter from the puddle of limbs, but Wriothesley doesn’t say anything else, merely burrowing into the mound of pillows with a sigh.

Well, dinner wasn't going to cook itself. Aether ducks down to press a kiss against Wriothesley’s shoulder before he goes searching for a pair of pants, making sure to close the door quietly on his way out.

Wriothesley isn't ashamed to admit that the aftermath of his transformation usually leaves him listless and weak, completely devoid of energy or any kind of drive. That's how Sigewinne always finds him the next day, collapsed on the floor in a heap, unconscious and unaware; though fortunately that makes her task of caring for him that much easier.

Though Aether teased him for being “a big suck” as he crawled out from under his body to get dressed and make them both something to eat, Wriothesley actually feels…pretty good, all things considered. He's exhausted, yes, but it isn't the same sort of exhaustion that usually follows this course of things. It was more like…the satisfied sort of burning in the muscles that resulted from a solid workout, or a round of incredible sex.

He recalls most of the previous night in abstracts, broad strokes of sensation and hazy instinct.

Mostly he remembers the running, the heart pumping, blood searing ecstasy of bounding through the world and under the open sky for nothing more than the sheer joy of it.

He thinks Aether ran with him too, keeping pace easily, the tang of his sweat and adrenaline mingling with the myriad other scents of the night, his joyous laughter rebounding off the rocky cliffs lining the shore.

He definitely remembers bowling him over a few times so he could shove his snout into his belly and between his legs, taste the salt off his skin and try to discover where his scent was strongest.

Wriothesley’s brain wasn't as well suited to overly complicated thoughts in that shape, but it was sometimes nice to just be simple. To let go of all the worries that constantly plagued his mind while he strode around on two legs and just let his instincts come to the fore.

Running is good. Chasing is good. Running and chasing with Aether under the endless sky is even better.

He can hear Aether clattering around somewhere below, and then the smell of cooking food drifts up shortly after, causing his stomach to groan loudly again.

He could maybe try and drag himself out of bed to go help, but. He could also just continue to lie here, surrounded by warmth and by Aether’s scent.

What is it? It's almost like sunshine, almost.

Yes, staying right here sounds like the perfect idea.

A hand on Wriothesley’s shoulder shakes him awake some time later with a start, his back tensing as he tries to raise hackles he doesn't have at the moment.

“Hey, it's just me. I brought you some food.”

Aether's voice is soft, and the scent of whatever he made hits Wriothesley’s nose a second later; a delicious mixture of some type of meat, starch, and fragrant spice causing his mouth to water. He rolls over and sits up with some effort.

Aether is sitting next to him, a tray with two bowls of food perched carefully on his lap.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he hands over one of the bowls, waiting until Wriothesley takes it in both hands to let go and then passes over a fork.

Wriothesley thinks for a long moment, letting the stoneware warm his hands and the steam waft over him, “....Tired.” he says.

“I thought that was supposed to be my line,” Aether grins, then motions to the bowl of food, “Hurry up and eat so you can go back to sleep, I don't think Sigewinne will forgive me if I bring you back like this.”

“She's seen worse.”

She's seen him through times where he came back and couldn't remember how to be human.

Aether levels his own fork at him, a chunk of potato hanging precariously off the tines, “Well I want you to feel better, so eat up!”

“You got it, boss.” Wriothesley tells him, and smiles while Aether scoffs even as his face flames scarlet.

– –

Dinner is inhaled in short order and Aether collects their utensils, taking them and the tray downstairs before returning to bed where Wriothesley is already starting to drift off again.

Eating had fulfilled the predator instinct of wanting to sleep with a full belly and he's already curled back under the blankets by the time Aether returns.

The sun set while they were eating, and the first rays of moonlight are starting to filter in through the open window as the curtains billow with the soft breeze from off the surrounding ocean, but Wriothesley doesn’t feel the same frantic urge to shift as he had the previous night. It would be easier to change now if he wanted, to give in and let things run their course in a way that wouldn't involve quite the same level of theatrics, but he’s still drained and pleasantly comfortable just where he is.

“It really takes a lot out of you, huh?”

That was putting it mildly.

The blankets shift as Aether lifts them to crawl back underneath. Normally he settles himself right on top of Wriothesley’s chest to sleep, but tonight he seems content to just lift one of his arms and curl below it and against his side.

“I’m trusting I’m not going to wake up in a few hours being crushed to death by a giant wolf,” he says, apparently sensing Wriothesley’s question.

“Heh, no. I can transform whenever I want, but around this time it’s just the first night that I can’t control it.”

A few beats pass by in total silence.

Aether pushes himself up and leans over him, pinning him in place with a look and a hand pressed down beside his face, his hair forming a curtain around them.

“You can turn into a giant wolf whenever you want and you never told me?” he demands, sounding genuinely hurt. His eyes shine lantern bright in the dark.

Wriothesley isn’t sure if he should apologize or not, but then he sees Aether’s serious expression faltering as he fights off a cheeky smile.

“And here I thought there was something special between us,” Aether laments, flopping back down dramatically against the mattress and rolling so he’s got his back to him, “I see how it is.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me, there just wasn’t time to mention it back when we first met and we were faced with a potentially world ending flood,” Wriothesley says, playing along, “and after there just never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.”

Aether just grumbles, but his shoulders are shaking in a way that betrays his barely contained laughter. With some effort, Wriothesley manages to turn himself over and curl his arms around Aether’s body until he’s pulled back snugly against his chest. Aether makes an indignant sound but quickly settles, sighing heavily.

“I guess I can let it go just this once. You were having a pretty rough time last night.” he says, almost certainly rolling his eyes even as he grins.

It certainly hadn’t been an easy transformation, but from what Wriothesley can recall things had gone pretty smoothly afterwards, and this is the best he’s felt in a long time.

“I owe you one for looking out for me then. I know it isn’t easy,” Wriothesley tells him, and Aether pulls an arm out of his hold to wave him off.

“It’s no problem. Just rest up so I can get you back in one piece and we’ll call it even,” he says, yawning, “Guess I know how you feel after looking out for me all the time.”

There’s no easy way to say that he’ll keep looking after Aether for as long as he’s able, so instead Wriothesley just presses his face into Aether’s hair and lets his body go loose, closing his eyes, “Goodnight, Aether.”

Another yawn, “Goodnight.”

Aether drifts off soon after, leaving Wriothesley alone with his thoughts.

The breeze through the open window carries the scent of the ocean and the crash of distant waves. Inside, bundled in blankets worn soft by countless washes and a veritable mountain of pillows - all of them smelling strongly of the man in his arms -  Wriothesley feels more at ease than he has in a very long time.

What is Aether’s scent? He thinks he’s almost got it now.

It makes sense that it eluded him for so long. It isn’t something Wriothesley has ever considered himself as having.

He nuzzles into Aether’s silky hair, brushing his lips over the crown of Aether’s head and earning a soft hum.

Yes, he knows. Aether smells like home.