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They hadn't been able to make it to Jack's cabin for the full moon this month, screwed over by busy schedules and understaffing. They don't always manage to, and Jack will often find himself interrupted from half-hearted attempts to fall asleep by a heavy weight on top of him, teeth at his neck, and fur tickling his face. If he's working, he'll hear a far-off howl every once in a while and know that Samira will be asleep in his apartment when he gets back from his shift in some state of dishevelment. He usually stays off the roof those days.
When Samira gets a craving for the outdoors, which happens often enough, Jack is allowed to sleep through the night (or at least stare at the ceiling all night if he has had a bad day). Unless Samira's wolf form decides she doesn't want to be alone, then he'll find himself dragged out of bed by the scruff of his neck. Luckily, she's patient enough to let him fasten his prosthetic and grab a change of clothes for her.
It had been a few months since he was unexpectedly dragged off to the woods, to his relief. Samira has gotten bored of the small clusters of trees around the city, and without the burden of his human speed, she can head to a more rural area and chase prey to her heart's content.
Nightfall is quickly approaching, the sky streaked with hazy orange and purple, and Samira is preparing for transformation. Jack is already tired out after a long shift and can't keep up with her supernatural stamina, which is quite a common occurrence. Although she insists she doesn't mind, he isn't going to make her get herself off, so he has her propped up against the headrest of his couch, squirming and panting as he circles her clit with her favourite vibrator—an expensive one he ordered online not long after they finally had a conversation about whether they were dating or not (Jack hadn't realized they were official, Samira thought she made her intentions pretty clear when she dug her teeth into his neck until he bled and chanted mine after one of Dana's friends tried to flirt with him). He's pretty sure they are up to orgasm number five, way more than enough oxytocin flooding her veins to muffle the pain of her transformation—it can never completely mute the pain, though not by lack of trying. He'd do anything to take away her pain,—but he just loves watching her as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of her. She's writhing, sweaty, panting, and absolutely ethereal.
She finally pushes him away by orgasm number seven, stuttering, messy, and overstimulated. It's a lot, even with her heightened libido. He kisses her sweetly before letting her scurry off to the bathroom to transform. Samira still doesn't like him seeing her fully turn, but she'd stayed cuddled up to him in bed for a bit too long one night, and he had witnessed the full transformation. He was transfixed. It was like seeing the moon up close; she was incredible, overwhelmingly so, and he told her as much. Nevertheless, despite his words of assurance, she hates the idea of him seeing her in that state, so he doesn't push. He hopes one day she'll reconsider, though he'd never say it out loud. He's desperate for another look at that state between human and animal, a body pushed to the brink, morphing in ways that should be impossible—are impossible, according to current medical knowledge—but are made possible because of Samira, because of course her body has the ability to bend all laws of nature. Of course her brilliance can't be contained to just one form. It makes complete sense in its impossibility, and Jack would do anything to witness it again—anything but overstep Samira's boundaries.
When Samira emerges from the bathroom, deep mahogany eyes glinting in the low light of his living room, his breath catches in his throat. Like always, she looks majestic. Jack doesn't think the sight of her will ever get old, in human or wolf form.
She's on top of him in an instant, using her werewolf speed so she can get her cuddles as soon as possible. She settles down on his lap despite the fact that she's nearly twice his size. She once told him that, when she turns, her heightened senses make her sensitive to touch, and now that she finally has someone to keep her company, she revels in the feeling of his skin against hers. His hands roam across the expanse of her back, fingers carding through her fur and making her tail thumb loudly against the side of the couch. She blinks sleepily, probably tired out from earlier. He's content to just sit with her, petting her and muttering praise under his breath.
It feels safer when she stays indoors, at least in the city. He would never dream of restricting where she goes—doesn't think he'd even be physically capable of doing so,—but he's worried about someone seeing her no matter how many times she assures him that the combination of her heightened sense of smell, hearing, and speed is enough to avoid detection. Werewolves have been around for centuries, Jack, she has told him on numerous occasions, there's a reason we aren't a widely known phenomenon. He knows she's right, of course, but he can't help the twinge of fear he feels whenever she is out prowling in the densely populated city, if not for her physical safety then for her mental and emotional well-being. He can't even imagine the guilt she'd be wracked with if she hurt a random, innocent person when feeling threatened.
She is nearing sleep, snout nuzzling into his side as she curls around him, when a series of loud knocks ring out through the house. Her ears perk up immediately, and she sits up, on alert. She growls low in her throat, shielding Jack with her body. He tries to stand up to see who is at the door, but apparently, Samira doesn't like whatever she is hearing or smelling, and she cages him against the couch with her body protectively.
"Samira, I need to answer the door." He braces a hand against her hip and tries to urge her off of him. She makes a menacing sound that he feels vibrate against his palm.
"Samira, up." He changes his tone into something commanding. "I'm safe, no one will hurt me, but I need you to get off me so I can see who is at the door."
Still, she doesn't listen.
"Be a good girl for me and behave," he tries again. Praise is his secret weapon when it comes to Samira in wolf form (and sometimes in human form). Functioning on pure instinct and with all her senses heightened, it's sometimes hard to get her to get her to see reason, but the promise of praise is usually enough to sweeten the deal.
As expected, it works like a charm, and she's hopping off of him and settling on the carpet, sitting on her haunches. He rewards her with a head pat.
"Good girl. I knew you could behave. My most smartest girl."
She gives him a happy yip in response to the praise he laves her with just as the knocking picks up again. He tells her to stay as he goes to answer the door. She obeys, but not without voicing her discontent through an angry growl. He sees the way her spine straightens, ready to attack should he be in danger. Despite his confusion—Samira has never been this upset over someone at the door before,—it makes him feel warm and safe. No one has never acknowledged that he's in need of protection before. No one has ever offered that to him, except her.
As he approaches the front door, bracing against the wall with one hand while the other grips his crutch, he hears a familiar voice on the other side of the door, and suddenly Samira's reaction makes sense.
"Jack, are you in there, brother? I see your truck in the driveway." Robby's words are met with a deep howl from the living room.
Jack opens the door to his friend who looks a little worse for wear, leaning dejectedly against the handrails leading up to the house. He shoots a nervous glance at Samira, who looks about ready to pounce.
"Robby? What are you doing here?"
Robby eyes him suspiciously. "What's going on? Did you get a dog? Never took you for the animal type." He tries to peer around Jack's body into the house, but he blocks him with his shoulders, earning him another questioning look.
"No I just… I'm dog-sitting for my sister." It's the best excuse he can come up with on the spot, despite the fact that all of his sisters live at least an hour drive away. He hopes Robby won't remember that detail. It's not like they speak about their personal lives too often.
"Oof, good luck man." Robby shakes his head with an amused smile. "That was one loud bark. He sounds like quite the terror."
Another equally loud, equally pissed off bark sounds out from inside the house. Jack winces.
"No, she's fine. Look, now isn't the best time…"
Robby furrows his eyebrows and pushes himself off the railing so he's standing in front of Jack. "Are you sure everything is okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Are you?"
He shakes his head. "Just a tough day. I'll be fine. I just wanted a distraction."
It's a silent plea for company and a space to vent, and Jack can't bring himself to turn him away. His friendship with Robby is complicated and at times turbulent, but Jack genuinely cares for the man. The instinct to protect and comfort is often triggered by him, with his sad eyes and weary frown and the all too familiar way he uses humor as a shield. "Look, just give me a second to sort some things out, then we'll head out, okay? We can go to Lucky's," he offers.
Not one to turn down cheap beer and crappy food, Robby nods. He steps forward, expecting to be let in, but Jack blocks him once again. "Wait outside, okay?" he asks somewhat pleadingly.
Robby pinches his eyebrows together, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening. "Seriously, what is going on with you?" Jack can't tell if he's annoyed or concerned, but it doesn't matter because the next thing he knows, Robby is pushing past Jack to get in the house. On one leg, he can't stand his ground and moves to the side to avoid toppling over, offering Robby a clear view of the huge werewolf sitting in his living room. They both freeze.
Jack inches closer to the wall, knowing nothing good will come of this. Samira bares her teeth, and he waits with bated breath.
"That is not a dog. What the fuck? Jack, what the actual fuck is that?" His eyes are wide in horror as he takes a cautious step backwards.
Jack doesn't know if it's the sight of Robby in his house, which she has claimed as her space, his words, or the resentment she already feels towards him, but suddenly, Samira is snarling and sprinting towards the door in a flash of anger and fur.
It's terrifying. It isn't what he now knows is the possessive yet affectionate way she hunts him, prowling along at a speed she knows he can keep up with. This is her at her full capability, hunting to incite fear.
Robby shouts and tries to flee, but Samira is already on him, sending them both tumbling down the front steps. Jack reaches out uselessly, hands flailing in front of him. There's nothing he can do as he watches the huge wolf tackle one of his closest friends to the pavement of the walkway to his house. She's on top of him, tail swishing stiffly, and he knows disaster is imminent.
"Samira!" Jack shouts. "Inside, now!"
Something in his tone, a mixture of fear and anger, must tell Samira that he is to be listened to, and she darts back into the house, safe and hidden from prying eyes. Jack leans against the wall in the front entryway and lets out a sigh of relief, clasping his hand over his fast beating heart.
Robby sits up slowly, rubbing his back. He has a couple of scratches on his arms and neck, and he looks stunned. "That was… Samira?" Robby asks slowly.
Jack hesitates, unsure how much he should say. At the same time, he needs to make sure Robby doesn't do anything hasty and stupid while also attending to the very unhappy werewolf he just yelled at, so he invites Robby in with the promise that they'll talk.
Samira is nowhere in sight when they walk into the living room. Jack feels a pang in his heart.
"Give me a second. I need to go find her," he tells Robby, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.
Robby nods, still bewildered. When Jack takes a step forward, though, he reaches out to stop him. "Are you sure it's safe? I mean, she just attacked me."
Jack raises an eyebrow. "She hates you. She likes me."
Robby grimaces, and Jack laughs as he walks away, heading toward his bedroom. He pulls the door open carefully, but she isn't curled up on his blue plaid sheets like he expected. He still has another guess as to where she could be, though. Sure enough, when he slides open his closet door, she's lying among his clothes, barely fitting in the cramped space. She snarls at him and scoots deeper into the closet, pressing herself against the back wall. He smiles fondly and leans against the doorframe.
"I'm sorry, Samira. But I had to stop you from hurting Robby. We both know that wouldn't have been good," he tries to explain.
All he gets out of her is a growl. It sounds more sad that angry.
"I'm not mad at you. You're still my good girl." The arm not draped over his crutch reaches out to scratch her jaw, not even having to bend down because of how big she is. She lets him, eyeing him cautiously.
He keeps petting her and speaking soothingly to her until she's nuzzling gently into his stomach and wagging her tail, sending a few of his shirts flying off their hangers. With one last kiss to her snout, he pulls away.
"I need to talk to Robby now, honey. Do you want to stay here or come with me?" he asks. She stands up on all fours in response, he heads out with her at his tail.
Back in the living room, Jack sits on the couch, next to where Robby has already made himself comfortable. Though he's not sure that expression fits, given how tense Robby looks. He wants to say it's because of the werewolf who just attacked him, but the truth is, Robby has never been fully comfortable in his house. There's always a flicker of distrust or shame, like he resents the reminder that he's trusted and valued by someone other than himself. Maybe it should be a sign that Robby can't be helped, but Jack takes it as a sign to try harder.
Jack props his crutch up against the side of the couch as Samira curls up at his feet, docile if not for the glare she fixes Robby with. He looks a little terrified, but given the way he treats her, Jack thinks it's earned. He begins with a very brief explanation on Samira's lycanthropy. He knows it isn't his place, but Robby needs some sort of explanation if Jack wants to ensure his girlfriend's condition remains a secret, and Samira can't physically speak right now, so he has no other choice. Robby agrees not to tell anyone, but the shock is wearing off enough to make him think of questions Jack does not want to answer.
"But why is she here, at your house?"
Jack does not have a sufficient response to that. "Uhm," he says lamely.
Robby raises his eyebrows in a mix of amusement and annoyance. Jack hopes amusement is the dominating emotion. "So her being a werewolf isn't the only secret you're keeping."
Stuck in his head as he may be, there are too many signs for Robby to not piece it together. Samira at his house, the tender voice he uses when talking to her, the way she curls up next to him and lets him pet her all point to the fact that there's something more than a professional relationship between his two doctors.
"We are planning to fill out the forms with HR soon," Jack defends himself.
Robby crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly to simulate emotional proximity. "HR? You think that's what I care about? Jack, we're friends, you should've told me."
"Should I have? We both know how you treat Samira. I didn't want to subject her to more criticism from you."
Jack sees the way Samira stiffens. They had discussed at length Robby's treatment of Samira, and despite his willingness to help, Samira insisted that he should under no circumstances get involved. Of course, he respects her decision, and he really doesn't mean to overstep, but Robby's obliviousness—whether feigned or not, he can't tell—grates at his nerves.
Robby's expression softens into something sadder, almost resembling a kicked puppy. "I wouldn't have—" he cuts himself off with a sigh. "Well, I wouldn't have said anything to her. I still try to keep it professional, you know."
Samira lets out a little growl, and Robby flinches. Jack has to bite back a smirk. That's his girl.
"The way you talk to her is not professional. You take out your insecurities on her and we both know it." Robby opens his mouth to say something, but Jack interrupts him. "No, we aren't going to talk about this when she can't give her input. In fact, we aren't going to talk about this at all, because as much as I'd like to yell at you over the way you speak to her, it isn't my place. This is a conversation for you to have with Dr. Mohan" —he pronounces her name properly, the way Robby doesn't care enough to. He doesn't think he even notices the difference— "at work, like a professional."
Robby nods in resignation, pressing his lips into a tight line. Samira's tongue laps at Jack's ankle in appreciation, and he reaches down to scratch behind her ear. His mind is racing with the events of the past few minutes, but he's trying to keep it together for the sake of both her and Robby, who he suspects had a harder day than he wants to admit. Normally, Robby would not give up that easily. Normally, Robby would not show even this minimal amount of softness and vulnerability. Jack is closer to Robby than most people, and it takes quite some coaxing for even him to get anything real out of the other man most days.
"Now, do you want to stay here for a bit longer or go home and I'll call you in the morning?" He knows better than to give Robby any option that involves being alone with his thoughts for longer than a couple of hours.
He eyes Samira wearily before looking back at Jack. "I'll leave you two to it." He braces his hands on his knees and grunts as he stands up from the couch. Jack reaches for his crutch in order to walk him to the door, but when Samira gets up to follow, Robby tells him not to bother.
"Take care, brother."
Robby nods at him in response as he steps out the door, a hangdog expression on his face, and finally, Samira relaxes.
To Jack's relief, she's low maintenance for the rest of the night, content to just cuddle up to him on the couch. He opens up his police scanner app and lets the familiar chatter muffle his thoughts, like white noise for a person whose worst fear is being useless.
Night fades to morning as the sun slowly rises, the late July sunrise turning the sky red. He's been replaying the evening's events in his mind for hours despite the distraction of the police scanner. He thinks about how much worse things could have turned out, about how Robby had acted, about how Samira had acted. There's a weird, unsettled feeling churning in his stomach that he can't quite place. With a painful looking stretch, Samira's transformation back to human begins. He watches with apt attention as the fur starts to recede, and her figure starts to shrink. He isn't often present or awake for this, but it's almost as breathtaking as her change from human to wolf.
Turning from wolf to human is quicker than the other way around, and soon enough, she's back to her usual self. She's disoriented like she often is. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth and her hair is frizzy. She leans against the arm rest of the couch and stretches out her legs towards him.
Before she's even fully present in her body, he starts talking. "What was that? What happened earlier… you can't… you can't do things like that." He tries to keep his voice level.
She blinks blearily, extending her arms above her head and forcing her tongue back in her mouth. Her spine cracks as she rolls her shoulders, and she tries to get comfortable. "What?"
"You chased Robby. I know you don't like him, but I didn't expect—"
"He touched you," Samira says suddenly, nostrils flaring. She sits up straight, crossing her legs.
"What?"
"I remember. I didn't do it because I don't like him. I saw the way he pushed you to try to get inside, so I tried to chase him away."
Her words give him pause. "You were protecting me?"
She nods, looking him in the eyes. "Yes."
He stares at her, stricken. The intensity of what he feels for her settles thickly in his throat, coating his insides with something sticky that toes the line between pleasant and unpleasant. He loves her more than anything, more than he can voice, but the reminder of everything she gives him, of her love, protectiveness, and care, only serves to remind him of his own inferiority. He has nothing to give her in return; he can never match her brilliance. No matter what she says, he can't fully be convinced that he deserves her. He stays silent, hoping she can sense his gratitude through his stare alone.
It takes him a moment to regain his bearings, but when he does, he steers the conversation towards safer but equally important territory. "Robby knows about us now."
She nods once, stilted. "Yeah, I figured." He can't tell if she's upset with him or Robby.
"I'm sorry, I know you weren't ready to tell anyone."
Her expression softens. "It's not your fault."
Guilt bubbles in his stomach. She's so lovely and wonderful, and he can't even get over himself for long enough to tell her how he feels. Even if he doesn't deserve her, he decides, she deserves to hear how loved she is. He pulls her closer to him so she's sitting on his lap and kisses the side of her head. "Thank you. No one has protected me like that before."
She wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a peck on the lips. "I'll always protect you." She growls playfully.
He smiles a little, but his expression remains serious. "I love you," he says, voice breathy. It isn't perfect, it isn't even close to everything he feels for her, but it's something. He thinks that, with time, he will be able to collect words that are strong enough to describe his love for her and put them together like pieces of an elaborate puzzle. He can make her feel so completely loved, just like she deserves. "I have for a long time."
Her eyes widen infinitesimally. She's on him before he can even blink, her teeth digging into his neck. He doesn't even flinch, used to it by now. When she pulls away, there's a drop of blood on her lower lip, and she looks more beautiful than ever.
"I love you too."