Midsummer's Moon
Oct. 31st, 2005 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsaiko, who had a bad day and alway makes me smile when my days suck, and skylark97, who is 100% responsible for the existence of this story. Two parts down, one to go ^_^
"So what is that you're working on?" Lowell took another cautious sip of the concoction Peter had prepared for him, wrinkling his nose at the smell - a weird cross between rotten fruit and burnt toast. Luckily it tasted a little better than that, though not by much.
But if it would keep him closer to sane later that night, he would drink something prepared by even their bloodthirsty neighbors.
Peter's lab was much like the rest of his house, filled with all manner of miscellany arranged in what Lowell could only describe as "tidy clutter." The lab was much more packed compared to the rest of the house, one whole wall converted into shelving and crammed full of textbooks, medical books, notebooks and what even looked like several books on lore and legend. They varied in age and care, from pristine volumes that looked unused to books that clearly hadn't seen anything but dust and grime for the better part of a century.
The rest of the lab was set apart from the miniature library and the whole was kept meticulously clear of the dust and grime. Metal cabinets with glass doors hung from the walls over wide tables covered with jars, tubes and flasks filled with all manner of liquids and powders. White legal pads were at each small station, filled with page and page of neatly printed notes, various bits highlighted or circled.
Lowell thought it was cute, in a mad scientist, totally Peter kind of way. Cute enough to hang around, though the acrid smell of the chemicals drove his heightened senses crazy. He hated all the little changes that preceded a transformation almost more than the transformation itself. Slight changes to his teeth, his hair got rougher, senses improved…and he was always hungry. Luckily it would all be over for a little bit after tonight.
"Something for a selkie," Peter said, answering his question. "Do you know anything about them?"
"Yeah," Lowell said after a moment of thought. "The pelts thing, right?"
"Yes. They're not really terribly healthy without them. This will make her feel a little bit better." Peter looked at him in amusement. "It's easier if you gulp it, Low. Sipping it just prolongs the agony."
Lowell made a face. "You're not the one drinking it."
"True enough," Peter said with a laugh. "But I've had enough bitter medicines of my own that I know that the faster they go, the easier it is. Unless you like prolonged torture."
Sticking his tongue in protest of Peter's logic, Lowell gave the potion one last grimace before chugging it back. He nearly choked, slamming the glass down on the lab table and gasping for breath. "That's disgusting! Ugh, what's in it? Never mind. I'm probably happier not knowing."
"Yes, you are." Peter set down the beaker he'd been carefully shaking. "But that nasty potion will mean you'll keep more of your wits about you."
"That'll be a nice change." Lowell stared at the dregs in the bottom of the glass, a grayish green substance that he was and was not looking forward to drinking again next month. Which reminded him. "So when will the experiments start?"
Peter looked up from his notes again, and this time set aside his pen. "About a week from tonight. That'll give you plenty of time to recover from the transformation, and take you closest to full human, meaning the silver will impact you less than it would if you were closer to another transformation."
"Right." Which led Lowell right to his next question. "How do you drink silver?"
Peter laughed and stood up. "I expected that question a while ago." He strode over to a metal cabinet and unlocked it. Lowell noticed no other cabinets had locks.
Lowell winced, realizing suddenly that the cabinet must be lined with something - because he hadn't realized until then that there was silver inside it. Reaching inside, Peter withdrew a small glass bottle. It was of clear glass and looked like a small wine bottle, right down to the cork that sealed it. Inside was a thin, silvery-white liquid. It seemed almost to shimmer, just a bit, as Peter swirled it gently.
"Made from 'the more rarified parts of silver,'" Peter quoted with a smile. "And turned into a wine. Alchemists called it the 'Tincture of the Moon'. My working theory is that it’s the key to the cure." Peter locked the tincture away again and returned to the lab table where Lowell sat. "The thing you have to keep in mind, Low, is this. So far as your body knows, the lycanthropy is completely natural. Painful, annoying, but natural. A disease to which your body has adapted. Stripping you of it, should I actually manage such a thing years from now, is not unlike losing a limb. But I don't think you'll understand that until too late."
Lowell frowned, wanting to argue - how could losing the damn problem be that bad? - but habit kept him from it. Arguing with someone, especially someone who was housing, clothing, feeding and attempting to cure you, was generally a bad idea. "How come?" he finally said.
"Well," Peter tapped his fingers on the table as he thought of the best way to explain. "You were born with it. Your body doesn't know how not to live with it. That's why those that are bitten often can't handle it - their bodies aren't born to bear the strain of the transformations, the altering of the senses and such that comes before each transformation. They're used to being just human. Not human and wolf. You're the exact opposite. You were born that way, your body learned to cope. You have a level of adaptation that a bitten person lacks. For instance - right now many of your senses have improved, as has your strength. And your sight."
"Yeah, life gets interesting. You have no idea how noxious this drink of yours smells, even when it's all gone."
Peter laughed.
Lowell set the glass down and slid off the stool on which he'd been seated. "I'm going to go lay down for a bit."
"All right. I'm going to be down here a bit longer and then I'll probably try to hold back the neighbors."
Lowell froze, cringing. "They're coming over?"
"What? You haven't noticed the eerie silence of the bloodsuckers on their best behavior?"
Lowell gave Peter an 'are you crazy?' look. "What about all the yowling this morning?"
Peter smiled back, pure Mad Scientist. "I never said I was on my best behavior."
Every night Lowell thanked his itty bitty, barely visible, pathetic little lucky star that where Peter was concerned, the star actually functioned. Because if Peter treated him the way he treated the vampires, Lowell wondered if he'd survive the night. "I'm surprised the cops don't patrol by here more often."
"You'll have to ask Sally why they don't, any longer. That episode was entirely her fault."
Lowell refrained from comment and beat a hasty retreat from the lab while Peter continued to chuckle. 'Wolf Boy Dies Tragically in Crossfire. Vampire and Mad Scientist Still At Large!' Upstairs he fought the urge to lock his door - he'd go nuts later if he wasn’t able to get out - and in the end settled for almost closing it. Stripping so that he wouldn't ruin his clothes, he stretched out on his bed and fell into a light doze. Transforming was always easier if he started it half-asleep.
Peter was simultaneously startled and soothed by the familiar click of claws on hardwood and linoleum. He looked up and smiled, nostalgia mixing with the excitement of seeing a new wolf.
And Lowell made for a pretty wolf, just as Peter had known he would. It wasn't just the fact that he was plenty handsome, although that was part of it. It was the muscle-tone and the discipline, the way he'd seemed almost half-wild in his fear and nervousness, the way he laughed only when everyone else was laughing. All of it no doubt built by the hard life that was painfully familiar to far too many werewolves.
Peter slid off his chair and knelt on the floor, stretching out his hands as the wolf approached. In its yellow eyes he could see an awareness that wasn't natural to wolves. Lowell wasn't entirely himself but he wasn't completely wolf either. So his tonic had worked on Low with no problems.
Wolf Lowell was a mix of cream and a reddish-brown, the fur rough but softer than that of a truly wild wolf. On the large side for a wolf, but because of the tonic as friendly as a puppy. Lowell butted at his hands in a sort of acknowledgement, then made for the back door.
Peter opened it before the wolf could do any damage, snatching up his coat before following him outside. He glared once they reached the front yard. "I thought I told the two of you to stay inside."
Sally beamed, clutching a plate of raw steak like another woman would a tray of cookies. "We wanted to come say hello."
Jordan pointed at his wife. "She made me." He grunted as she stamped on his foot.
Ignoring the two men, Sally knelt on the grass and set the platter down in front of an inquisitive Lowell. "He's so cute!"
"I bet you say that to all the wild animals," Peter replied.
"Only my husband and this cutie here." Sally stuck her tongue out. "You're passable I suppose, Mad Scientist."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Isn't it time for you to leave yet?"
"Speaking of yets," Sally said as she stood up, brushing grass and dirt from her bright green and yellow skirt. "Have you said or done anything yet, or are you just giving him little looks when he's not paying attention?"
"Sally!" Peter hissed. "Behave!"
"What?" Sally flicked her fingers at him impatiently. "Forgive the pun, but all this mooning isn't going to get you anywhere."
Peter flicked his gaze to Lowell, who had finished his meat and was exploring Sally's skirt in the hopes of finding more. "Good, because I'm not trying to get anywhere. He can't be more than 20, 21. Stacey was my last mistake; I won't do that to Lowell. And whoever said I was mooning?"
"Oh, please." Jordan snickered. "He's exactly your type - and you never deliberate. You're the fall fast type."
"And you have room to talk? Or did you forget, Mr. I Will Wander Aimlessly Forever, that while Sally wasn't giving you the time of day I gave you a place to crash?"
Jordan just grinned. "How do you think I recognize the type? He is awful cute; one little word from you and you'd have a keeper I bet. Not like Stacey. That boy always did reek of trouble."
"Yeah, yeah." Peter's voice was bitter. "He would have stayed if I hadn't dragged the experiments into it."
"He would have stayed longer but in the end, Petey, he'd still be gone."
Peter let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Anyway. I don't want to give Low one little word - he shouldn't just settle for the first good thing to happen to him. He can do far better than me." He shook his head suddenly and glared darkly at the vampires. "Why am I discussing this? He's been here barely three weeks. It's not an option. Jeez, he’s just a kid."
Sally stooped to pet the wolf that had was still searching for more food, having gone back to make sure he'd licked the plate completely clean. "This doesn't look like a pup to me. He really is a pretty one, isn't he?"
"Yes," Peter agreed reluctantly. "A full-blooded werewolf."
"Aren't they all? Sort of the problem with the curse?"
"Not necessarily." Peter shook his head. "My father was human. That's why my brother was a wolf but I wasn't." He looked as though he would say something else, but opted not to in the end. "Connor's wolf form was a bit smaller than Low's. So was Stacey’s."
Jordan looked thoughtful. "So size is indicative of…purity of wolf?"
"Well, it’s not much different than a dog that's half wolf - almost but not quite as good as full-blooded wolf. But yes, size is generally an indication of the strength of the blood. I doubt Low has a single drop of human blood in him."
Sally lifted a brow at that. "Is that rare?"
"Quite." He watched as Peter began to pad across the yard toward the street. "I had wondered, but given what little I know of his history I doubt he knew."
"Is it relevant somehow? Or just a professional curiosity?"
"Relevant," Peter said tiredly. "It means that even if I do find a cure, it won't work on him."
Sally and Jordan winced. "Poor thing," Sally murmured. "He wants so bad to be just human - werewolves really have it rough. I've never seen a species so determined to wipe itself out."
Lowell hit the street and picked up his pace, tongue lolling as he quickly traveled away from the house. Peter cursed and chased after him, calling over his shoulder to the vampires. "Don't do anything while I'm gone! I mean it!"
It was about two miles into town, and lord only knew how much traveling Lowell would do once they reached town. He'd once spent an entire night wandering around following Connor - they hadn't gotten home until a good three hours after sunrise. He really hoped they wouldn't be gone that long.
He looked up as a beat up red pick up slowed down to a crawl beside him. "Ev'ning, Doc. That your new boy there?" A man with bushy blonde hair and a beard to match motioned to the wolf that was ambling several yards ahead, though periodically he stopped to wait for Peter to catch up.
"Yes, it is." Peter smiled. "Coming back from the city?"
"Yep, we just finished delivering." The man looked at the wolf again, speaking idly with the driver, who looked like a younger, beardless version of him. "Stop on by the house later, Doc. Les had a pie she wanted to give you, and we could find a snack for the wolf. What was his name again?"
"Lowell," Peter said. "And that's kind of you. I'm sure we'll be out your way before the night is out. Tell Leslie I said hello."
"Sure will, Doc." The man nodded to himself. "Nice wolf - good to see a real one 'round again. See you later, Doc." With that, the two men waved and took off down the road, turning right at the intersection.
Peter shook his head and laughed softly to himself. "Poor Low. There's no way they're going to let you hide away now." He continued to walk idly behind the curious, eager werewolf as he led them into town.
Midsummer's Night was small, only a few thousand people. And as they reached it, more than a few were already in the street, hanks of meat in hand to feed the werewolf that eagerly approached.
"Y'all are acting like you've never seen a werewolf before."
An older woman with curly gray hair laughed as she petted Lowell's heavy coat. "We haven't, not in a long, long time. That other one you had for a bit never came out. Petey, he's lovely. Even more amazing than your mother was. Is he going to be staying awhile? It's been so long…"
Peter shrugged. "I've told him to stay as long as he wants, Vee. It's up to him."
"We'll make sure he stays. Won't we girls?" Around Vee, several women of varying ages nodded.
"If you keep stuffing him like a turkey," Peter said dryly. "He'll certainly be unable to move."
A man of about twenty laughed as the wolf licked his hand for any remaining traces of meat. "Lots friendlier than that other one - he always had a mean look. This one is as bad as a puppy. Your doing, Petey?"
"Yeah," Peter said softly.
An old, balding man nodded approvingly. "Even when you were little, you helped make things easier for your family. It'll be good to have a werewolf around again. Too many of those damned creatures from the hills have been picking cattle off again. They smell the wolf, they'll back off."
Peter laughed. "I'll be sure to tell Low that you'll be putting him to work. He'll be happy to be of help." His laughter faded into a smile as the wolf wandered his way, nose pushing at his hand. "He doesn't like being idle."
"Then tell the boy to stop hiding away in the house and come visit as a person."
"Yes," a whispy voice said from behind Pete. "We've been dying to meet him."
"Ha ha ha." Peter rolled his eyes as he turned. "Ghosts shouldn't make dead jokes, Cherry."
The ghost in question, a pale, faded image of the living young woman she once had been, gave a whispy laugh. "Who better to make them?" She held out a whispy hand to the wolf, who smelled it with interest for a moment but then went back to Peter. "He's lovely. I hope you keep this one, Petey."
Peter said nothing, merely squatted down on the balls of his feet to pet Lowell properly.
He looked up as a girl of about eight approached from behind her mom, and shook his head slowly. "Mindy, stop there and come around this way." He motioned for the girl to circle around so that she approached Lowell from the front. "Even if he can smell you just fine, you should always approach from the front, so he can see you. All right?"
The girl nodded.
Peter held out his hand. "Then come here," he took hers and held it out for Lowell to examine, then showed her the right way to pet him. "Don't approach a wolf unless your parents or myself are around, all right? He smiled when she nodded again. "Good girl."
"He's pretty," the quiet girl's voice was little more than a whisper.
Peter started to reply that yes, he was - but then he noticed a slight tensing in Lowell's demeanor. "Mindy," he said a voice that brooked no argument. "Go back to your mother."
Mindy looked at him with a small frown but nodded and obeyed, turning and running back to her mother.
Around them the town had quieted at Peter's tone and a moment later when Lowell began to growl they all began to back away - not from fear, but familiarity. Something was upsetting the wolf, and it was best to stay out of the way until they learned the source of the problem.
Still growling, Lowell abruptly took off like a shot back out of town. Cursing, stumbling as he stood up, Peter chased after him.
But he was far from a match for a wolf, especially one as fit as Lowell. Panting, he slowed to a brisk walk and followed the wolf until he vanished into the woods that filled the area behind Peter's house.
The disturbing sound of what could only be a fight spurred him into running again.
Peter crashed through the forest, ignoring the branches and leaves that cut his face and hands – he stopped just short of where Lowell was locked into a brutal fight with another wolf.
He felt something in his chest wrench, realizing the second wolf was painfully familiar.
What was Stacey doing here?
Peter winced as Lowell let out a pained cry, limping on his left foreleg – Stacey had always been nasty in a fight. But then the two wolves were yet again a blur of motion and Peter scrambled backward to get out of their way, though really it looked like they didn’t even notice him.
No - it almost seemed as if they were avoiding him. Peter shook off the strange thought, more concerned with Stacey’s presence.
And with stopping them before they managed to kill each other. He could see far too much blood on their coats. He’d often watched his family play as wolves…but this wasn’t playing and interfering would earn him a nasty wound and then he wouldn’t be able to help them.
He took off after them again, lungs burning, as the fought their way through the forest – Peter realized Stacey was running away, Lowell chasing after him like his life depended on it.
Peter stumbled to a halt again as he barreled out of the forest and into a familiar backyard.
“What in the hell?” Sally shrieked and ran for her porch, gaping in shock at the wolves tearing her lawn and garden apart. “Peter! What’s the meaning of this?” She blinked at the werewolves. “Is that…”
“Yes,” Peter managed, gasping for breath. “We need to stop them.”
Sally nodded and shouted for her husband. Together the two of them went to work distracting the werewolves, interfering and slowly separating them – being harassed by creatures that to the wolves seemed soaked in blood was enough to impede their efforts to kill each other. “Now what, Peter?”
“Don’t let them bite you,” Peter said. From his pocket he withdrew a capped syringe. “This is an added precaution,” he looked at it unhappily. “I wasn’t supposed to actually have to use it.”
Jordan grunted from where he barely was holding Stacey to the ground. “This one wasn’t supposed to be here. Just do it – even I can’t hold him for long.”
Peter nodded and knelt at Stacey’s side, helping Jordan hold him still and then sticking him.
“I don’t think you’ll need it for Low,” Sally said with a smile, petting the wolf who was panting and half-heartedly growling in her lap.
“Oh give me…” Peter shook his head, fighting a smile, and made to stand up.
Stacey, who’d gone still, suddenly broke out of Jordan’s hold and launched himself at Peter, sinking his teeth into the arm half-lifted to ward him off.
“Peter!” Sally started to stand, Lowell snarling in her arms.
“Don’t let him go,” Peter shouted, holding his arm and watching as Jordan wrestled Stacey back down – but the black and white werewolf was rapidly succumbing to the drugs in its system, and a minute later was out like a light. “Get them both to my house,” Peter said tightly. He caught sight of Sally’s clothes and arms, which were liberally covered in wolf blood. “I’m sorry to drag you two into this.”
“Explain to us what this is and all’s forgiven.” Sally winked. “And you have to help me fix the garden.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter groused, but he smiled back. He reached out to pet Lowell, who had slowly approached his side, head down. “You’re limping, but you’ll survive. C’mon, Low…have you two got him?”
Jordan and Sally both grimaced. “Only because you won’t let us leave the stupid bastard,” Sally said. “We got him. Carrying a wolf is nothing like dealing with a child, trust me.”
“And what would you know about hauling around children?” Peter asked, leading the way across the street to his house.
Sally beamed, all innocence. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Where should we put him?” Jordan asked, interrupting them.
“In his room,” Peter replied after a moment of thought. “I’ll put Low in mine – and shut the hell up,” he said, ignoring the looks between them. “This is not time for jokes like that.”
“Who said we were joking?” Sally murmured quietly to her husband, who remained silent but smiled back fondly. Grunting and cursing, they hauled the unconscious Stacey up and into his bedroom, throwing the wolf rather more roughly than perhaps they should. “Bastard,” Sally said again. “I hope you wake up in abject pain. If not – I can rectify that.” She nodded briskly, affirming her words to whoever was listening.
“Come on, my violent little blood drinker,” Jordan took his wife by the arm and they waited downstairs while Peter tended to his patients and his own arm.
The doctor looked weary as he joined them, arm bandaged, in nothing but jeans and an old t-shirt. He looked strange, oddly vulnerable, without his perpetual labcoat.
Jordan frowned, eyeing the arm. “Doc…”
“It’s fine,” Peter said tightly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Sally snorted. “In case you hadn’t notice, Petey—“
“It’s nothing.” Peter snapped, holding his arm. “I’ve been bitten before. It’s fine.”
Dead silence fell, as comprehension dawned with Peter’s words.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got patients to take care of. You know the way out.”
The vampires nodded numbly and quietly left.
Peter scrubbed his face, blocking thoughts and problems he didn’t feel like dealing with, focusing everything on healing his patients, on seeing that Low and Stacey…he did not need Stacey back in his life now. Why was he here? Why had the two gotten into such a nasty fight? Werewolves, unlike real wolves, were not territorial. So that left a different reason for Lowell’s voracious chase down and attack of Stacey.
And why the hell was Stacey back?
He’d waited a long, long time for Stacey to return – he’d thought Stacey would be the one to stay. Getting over his leaving had taken more than he’d been sure he had. And now that he was over it, he didn’t feel like tearing it all open again. Stacey was gone, done, a closed chapter.
And he had Lowell now – Peter shoved that thought right out of his head. Wearily he dragged himself to the kitchen and set the coffee to brew. Both wolves seemed fine, but he’d have to wait until they changed back to make sure they were really okay.
Lowell woke with a start and stared uncomprehending at the ceiling for several minutes before he realized why it bothered him.
It wasn't familiar.
He sat up, suddenly feeling sick and panicked.
Where was he? Where was his room? Whose room was this? Where was Peter?
Why did his arm hurt? And that, he realized, was an easily answered question - look at the arm. Lowell turned his aching head until he could see his arm - and felt cold.
Oh, god. Why was his arm bandaged? Throwing back the covers to stand up, Lowell froze up even more to see that his leg was bandaged as well - and now was beginning to throb. Pulling the blankets back up with his good arm, Lowell curled up into a ball and began to cry.
He'd gotten into a fight, even with Peter's drink. Had he bitten someone? Shuddering, shivering, Lowell sobbed into the blankets.
Who had he hurt? What if he'd hurt Peter?
Should he stay? Should he run? He didn't even know where he was!
He went still, choking on tears, at the sound of the door opening. Listened in silence to the shuffling and rattling as someone set something down and then approached the bed. A soft, warm hand touched his shoulder. "Low?"
Lowell snapped his head up, ignoring the pain caused by the sudden movement and felt an enormous weight lift from his chest. "Peter!" he said in relief.
Peter looked horrified. "Low? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I didn't--I didn't know where I was! And I was scared I'd bitten you – or someone else. And--“ Lowell dissolved into tears again, too relieved to know he was home and Peter was okay to chastise himself for being a big baby. And suddenly he was completely engulfed in warmth and the scent of coffee and pancakes and medicine. Peter's arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders, pressing Low against his chest. One hand began to soothe up and down his back, as Low murmured quiet, comforting words.
"Shhh…" And Low thought that voice alone was the reason Peter was such a popular doctor. It made him feel better despite himself.
His own voice was rough and muffled against Peter's chest. "I hurt someone, didn't I? Did I bite them deep enough?" It made him start crying all over again. "I can't remember anything." Unintentionally he dug his fingers into Peter's sides.
Peter drew back and cupped Low's face in his hands, thumbs wiping away his tears. "Everything is fine, Low. No one was seriously hurt." He smiled. "Plus you gave Sally a good shock. So in my book all is forgiven. So no more crying, okay? You don't have anything to worry about." A wink. "And this is my room, so relax. Okay?"
Nodding feebly, Lowell sniffled and forced himself to stop crying. Looking around the room, he suddenly felt every kind of idiot. Because there was a familiar lab coat folded neatly across the back of a chair, and near the dresser was a stack of books that could only belong to Peter. One by one he picked out items that marked the room as belonging to the doctor and he turned red, head dropping in embarrassment.
Peter stood and walked over to the mirrored dresser pressed against the wall just next to the bed. "I've brought some medicine along with breakfast. You're to take the former and eat all of the latter - no arguments. Is that understood? Your bandages shouldn't need to be changed for a little while yet, so just sit back and relax. Doctor's orders.”
"I'm sorry," Lowell said as Peter set a breakfast tray across his lap.
Peter ruffled his hair. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Low."
"Who did I hurt?" Lowell asked, feeling sick all over again.
"I think it best if that waits until both my patients are well again. I've no doubt you'll both just start fighting again and that is not going to help either of you heal. So - bed rest until I say otherwise." He shook a finger when Lowell started to protest. "Doctor's orders. Nonnegotiable. Now eat your breakfast, take your medicine and get some rest. Look – I even made you coffee. So be good and do as you’re told.” Peter winked again. "I'll come back after I've checked on my other patient."
Lowell frowned. "You look tired," he blurted before he realized what he'd planned to say. But it was true - as cheerful as Peter was being, the doctor looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, face tight and as warm as his smiles were they also looked strained.
"A bit, maybe." Peter looked just as startled as Lowell. "But nothing coffee now and a nap later won't fix." He smiled. "I'll be back in a bit. That plate had better be clean when I return."
Lowell watched as he left, miserable, sore and confused. He stared at his plate, not hungry at all. But pleasing Peter was far more important so Lowell picked up his fork and slowly began to clean his plate.
When he woke up again, it was to the sound of two people bickering quite loudly in the hallway. He almost smiled, still half asleep, and waited for Sally to barge in despite Peter’s rather colorful threats.
Ten seconds later Sally threw the door open and sauntered into Peter’s bedroom as though she owned it, an explosion of pink and orange and yellow. Behind her in the hallway, Peter’s expression was very unbecoming a doctor.
“Low!” Sally chirped. “You’re looking pretty good for someone—“
“Shut it, bloodsucker. If you’re going to insist on staying, you’re going to keep your mouth shut. Not. One. Word.”
“Not one word,” Sally promised with a nod. She made shooing notions. “Go away now, so we can chat without the mother hen hovering.”
Lowell started to protest, but Peter turned away the same moment Sally launched into a discussion of all the town gossip Low had missed the past three days, and Low could do nothing but listen – and eat the chicken soup Sally had brought along with her. It was pretty good, though he’d never had chicken soup with garlic in it before.
At last Sally’s chatter died down, and a more pensive frown replaced her smile. “Are you doing all right, Low?”
“I’m—“ Low stopped. “I’m okay, I guess. Peter won’t tell me what happened, but I know I did something wrong…” Low fiddled with is spoon, staring at the dregs of soup still in the bowl.
Sally took it away from him and set the bowl on the nightstand. She held his hand in her own and made Low look at her. “Low, you did nothing wrong – except maybe upset my backyard a bit. And you’ll help me fix it, so that’s okay.” She hesitated. “Peter’s…”
“He’s upset,” Low said. “He looks tired, probably because I’m stealing his bed, and…I dunno. He doesn’t look like Peter.”
“You’re very observant,” Sally said with a smile, reaching up to brush a few stray bits of hair from his eyes. She seemed to be considering something, and after a moment nodded to herself. “I’ll probably never be allowed anywhere near this house afterwards, but I think your knowing will do Peter some good.”
When she finished explaining, Low frowned. “But what happened to his arm? Did one of us…”
“No!” Sally declared vehemently. “It’s just a scratch, so don’t worry.”
“But who’s the other wolf?”
Sally hesitated. “His ex-boyfriend.”
Low stiffened. “Stacey?” he asked, voice taking on a hardness that made Sally stare.
“Yes,” she replied slowly. “You’d better keep your ass in this bed.”
“Only because it still hurts too much to stand for very long.”
Sally frowned and held more tightly to his hand. “How do you know Stacey?”
“He’s the jerk who sent me here for a cure.”
“I see,” Sally said slowly. “Do you think that’s why you were so adamant about kicking his furry ass?”
Low shrugged and looked away, muttering a faint “maybe” to the dark green coverlet.
Soft, slender fingers ruffled his hair, and from the corner of his eye he saw Sally stand and move toward the door. “Stay here and behave, Low. I mean it. Whatever your reasons for disliking Stacey,” she waggled a finger at him. “Don’t do something that would upset Peter. He’s got enough worries at the moment.”
Lowell thought mentioning that he’d gladly take care of one of those problems would be better not to mention to Sally. But the minute he was better… “I know. I won’t upset him.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you later – and next time I’ll bring chocolate cake.” She blew him a kiss and then was gone, and Low could hear her talking to Peter in the hallway.
Stacey…Lowell slowly folded his legs up and rested his arms and head on his knees. Everything about him had seemed rough around the edges but overall cool. He’d seemed earnest, straight up, and it had been so long since Lowell had seen another werewolf. And so confident!
Fool him for believing such a stupid thing. But worse was Stacey, to mislead werewolves with the sole intent of hurting Peter. The minute he was better he was going to rip Stacey apart.
Peter walked in as he was laying down, and Low immediately sat back up. “Peter!” He smiled, determined not to make the look in Peter’s eyes worse.
“So what did you she tell you?” Peter asked wearily, though he managed to interject some humor. He shoved his hair from his face as he sat on the edge of the bed. “So I know why I’m banning her?”
Low was silent, deliberating. “She told who the other wolf is.”
“I see.” Peter did not sound pleased. “That’s a good reason to ban her.”
“She’s only worried about you.” His hands fisted in the blankets. “So am I. You…you don’t look like Peter.” He looked down when Peter looked up. “I can move to the couch or something, so you can have your room back.”
Peter smiled and reached out tousle his hair. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“But something’s wrong. Is it him?”
“To some degree. But I can handle Stacey – five years of living with him gives you plenty of ammo. He never was very good natured about being sick or injured.” Peter laughed briefly. “And it chafes that he was on the losing end, which I was glad to point out to him.”
Lowell gloated to himself. He wasn’t proud he’d gotten into a fight, but at least it was Stacey and apparently he’d been winning against the jerk. He started to ask more questions, but noticed that Peter had gone distant again, the anxiety clear in his face. “What’s really wrong?” he reached out and cautiously touched Peter’s hand.
“It’s nothing,” Peter forced a smile. “Please, don’t worry.” He stood up. “I’ve got to run some errands, I’ll probably be gone a few hours. Is there anything you’d like me to get for you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Peter nodded. “Stay here, okay? I admonished Stacey to do the same, but I have no doubt he’ll get out of bed and try to do something. So promise me you’ll stay here? And ignore him? I don’t want to come back and find you worse off than before.”
“I’ll stay here,” Lowell said. He didn’t think it was necessary to mention that the minute he could move easily again, Stacey was going to be shown the door with excessive force. Peter smiled at him, and Lowell smiled back. For some reason, it felt like there was something he was supposed to say. But he didn’t know what, and so Peter left while the silence lingered. Frowning, Lowell pulled up the blankets and burrowed down to sleep. They smelled nice, like soap and Peter, and the faintest hint of chemical and medicine that seemed to follow the man no matter what.
Distantly he heard the car start up and pull out, fading away as Peter drove off. Several minutes a door opened, and he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He tensed, fighting the urge to get up see what Stacey was up to. He’d promised.
Though if the bastard came to him all bets were off.
But the footsteps traveled away, down the stairs until Lowell could hear nothing more. He buried his fingers in the sheets, literally clinging to them to resist getting up going downstairs to get of the wolf that was in his home threatening his—
Lowell stopped, shaken. His what? And it wasn’t his home. It was Peter’s. What was wrong with him? Shaken, he hid under the blankets until he was nearly suffocating with heat. He focused on the smell of Lowell that clung to them, blacking out everything else until his own mind began to feel more familiar to him.
What was wrong with him?
He fell into an uneasy sleep and woke with a start some hours later. It took him a few minutes to figure out what had woken him…but then voices drifted up the stairs and toward his room.
Which meant they were being pretty loud. Lowell shook his head and slowly sat up, straining to hear what was being said. To no avail – they were speaking loudly but not so that he could understand.
Grimacing, Lowell climbed out of bed and left the room. It was slow-going, because his leg was sore and stiff, giving him a sort of hobbling gait. The stairs were a whole new nightmare, and Lowell was exhausted by the time he got downstairs. He’d been so busy focusing on his steps he hadn’t picked up the thread of the conversation.
Well, one angry. In a smug sort of way. The other – Peter – merely sounded like a sad sort of anger.
“I want you gone,” Peter said. Lowell remained at the foot of the stairs, watching the two men who had not yet seen him.
Stacey took Peter’s hand, holding on tight when Peter tried to pull away. “I know you’re happy to see me again.”
“Not really, no. You left.” Peter stared out the window. “I waited a year for you. By the second I got tired of it. I’m over you.” He faced Stacey. “You’re not part of my life anymore. I don’t want you to be. As you’re able to walk around, I expect you to be gone for good by the end of the week. And you’d better not cause anymore trouble.” His tone as he finished was that of a doctor dealing with a troublesome patient.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Stacy said, trying to sound soothing but coming off only as impatient. A casual observer would definitely find themselves giving him a second and possibly a third glance. Stacey had the sort of features associated with high school sweethearts or the boy next door. His hair was the blonde usually found only in young children, eyes a contrasting dark brown. “I missed you. I was coming to see you. Then that little brat attacked me.”
Peter’s expression turned from annoyed to furious. “Leave him out of it.”
“It’s true though. He attacked me. You’ve got a rather nasty wolf in your house.”
“You’re right, I do. And you can get out of it.” Peter finally succeeded in getting his hand free and moved to leave.
Stacey blocked him, then leaned up and kissed him.
Lowell snapped. One minute he was standing at the foot of the stairs, the next all he knew was shouting and cursing and the satisfying crack of Stacey’s head against the floor. His leg hurt something fierce, but it was distant, hazy. He glared down at Stacey. “Don’t touch him!”
“See what I mean?” Stacey said, looking at Peter, who stood motionless, trying to figure out what to do. “Nasty and vicious.”
Lowell said nothing, merely lifted Stacey up enough to shake him hard. “I didn’t leave him. It wasn’t me that bit him!” He started to say that it was time for Stacey to leave, but his mouth had other things to say. “This isn’t your place anymore. I won’t let you hurt what’s mine.” A shocked silence fell hard upon the room, and Lowell’s own words finally struck him. His hands started shaking and he gave Stacey one last shake before releasing him. Stacey’s head struck the floor again. Lowell tried to climb to his feet, but stumbled, crying in pain. He fell down hard, clutching at his leg.
“Low…” Peter gently helped him up. “Come on…back to bed with you. Can you make it up the stairs? Or would you prefer to lay on the couch?”
“Up,” Lowell managed, and with Peter’s assistance and several long minutes of work he finally was able to collapse into bed. He didn’t let go of Peter’s coat when he turned to go. “I’m sorry…” he said, voice barely audible. He looked at the dresser as he spoke. “I don’t…I didn’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Peter sighed softly and sat down beside him, combing Lowell’s hair back gently. “It’s all right. Nothing is wrong with you.” He smiled weakly, some embarrassment in it. “I’m glad you think of this place as home.”
“But I promised…” Lowell said guiltily, because he’d fully intended to beat Stacey into oblivious while Peter wasn’t around but he hadn’t meant to act like that. Like some sort of…animal. He cringed inwardly. What was wrong with him all of a sudden?
“It’s all right,” Peter repeated. He squeezed Lowell’s hand. “Stacey’s good at making people mad. It was something I chose to overlook for years.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t particularly want him kissing me.” He laughed suddenly, and leaned down to kiss Low’s cheek. “Thank you for rescuing me.” Giving Lowell’s hand one more reassuring squeeze, Peter stood up and slipped into the role of doctor. “Now please stay here and let that leg heal. Honestly, my worst patients are always men. I’ll bring you some dinner in a bit – behave until then and I’ll bring dessert as well.”
Lowell watched him leave, and continued to stare at the closed door long after he was gone. Eventually he fell asleep, one hand caught between the bed and his cheek.
“So I hear you picked a fight,” Sally said, causing Lowell to look up. Her tone was teasing, but there was a gentle reprimand in it.
Lowell flushed in shame. “I know. I didn’t mean to…I just…lost my temper.” He closed his book, not looking up as Sally pulled up a chair beside the bed. “I’m sorry.”
Sally clucked. “That’s okay. Why not tell me what happened? I never could get it out of Petey.” Lowell obediently told her what had happened two days ago, and by the end of it Sally was laughing gleefully. “That’s so cute!” She winked at him. “You’re so quiet, usually. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Had what? A temper?” Lowell frowned at his hands. “I’ve been in plenty of fights before. People took me for an easy target, though for what I’m not sure. I’ve always been poor and homeless.”
“Now, now. Let’s not be despondent.” Sally opened the small plastic container she’d been holding. “Here. Like I promised.”
Lowell smiled despite his foul mood and accepted the fork she held out next. “Thanks, Sally.”
“My pleasure. We’ve been married long enough, my husband doesn’t bother to admire my cooking anymore. It’s nice to see someone who enjoys it.” She waited until he’d eaten a few bites. “As to my earlier comment…I meant I didn’t know you had it in you to be that…aggressively protective.” She smiled. “It’ll be good for Peter, to have someone who looks out for him for a change.”
“I…I think something’s wrong with me. I’ve been acting weird since I woke up.” Lowell played with the plastic fork, poking it into the cake. “More…something than normal.”
Sally surprised him by laughing. “I don’t think you need to worry, Low, so long as you don’t pick anymore fights.”
“But that’s just it!” Low burst out. “I don’t pick fights – never. I always avoid them if I can. I hate fighting. I don’t even like watching it, not even in movies and stuff. And now I’ve gotten into two of them.” He made his fingers let go of the fork, one by one, realizing he was about to break it. “And I keep thinking weird stuff.”
“Weird stuff? Like what?”
“Like none of your business,” Peter broke in icily from the doorway. “My falling asleep does not mean you have permission to be in my house. As I seem to recall, you’re banned until further notice.”
Sally stuck her tongue out. “Banned, schmanned. If I don’t come over here, nothing gets done properly. Men are hopeless.”
“How many people do I have to kick out of my house before I get some peace and quiet?” Peter snapped. “I’ve already got Stacey to put up with, I don’t need you over here interfering!”
Sally stood up slowly, shaking out and arranging her electric blue skirt. Her face was calm, manner relaxed. If her husband had been present, he would have been running for dear life. “I realize you’re sleep deprived, Peter. And overwrought by recent events. Since we’re friends, I’ll take your apology for being unbearably rude as already given and accepted.” She smiled. “I also realize I know almost nothing about werewolves; everything I know I’ve learned from you and that’s not as much as I probably should. I know Low has only been here a few weeks.” She never stopped smiling. “But even I am capable of recognizing when a wolf is defending his territory and mate from a perceived threat. And you’re lucky I didn’t bring you any chocolate cake, because right now you’d be wearing it.” She walked sedately from the room, pausing only just long enough to give Peter a look and a swift kick to the shins. She blew a kiss over her shoulder at Lowell, who barely noticed.
He was too busy gauging if he’d fit through the window or if he’d just have to die of mortification in bed. Sally was insane. “Werewolves don’t act like real wolves,” he finally said. “They don’t do…all that stuff. Because of the human half.” He stared desperately at the sheets, half hoping Peter had wandered off again. Jeez, how was he supposed to face him now?
Territory? Mate? Mate? Lowell wondered how red a face could possibly get. ‘Werewolf Dies From Embarrassment: He Just Burst Into Flame!’
Peter sighed, sounding twice his age and far too tired. He stepped into the room and closed the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up, then folded his arms. “They don’t. Werewolves are popularly thought to be humans inflicted with a disease, ergo their primary behavioral patterns are human. Except, possibly…” he drifted off.
Lowell dared a look up and saw that Peter was frowning miserably at the floor. “Except what?” He badly wanted to look away when Peter looked up, but forced his head and eyes to remain up.
“Do you know anything about your parents, Low?”
“No…” Lowell said, puzzled. “I was raised in an orphanage until I was about twelve. After that I was deemed too dangerous. It was just assumed my parents either didn’t want me or were dead.”
“Probably dead,” Peter said kindly. He strode across the room and sat down on the bed. “Have you ever heard of a pure-bred werewolf?”
Lowell shrugged. “Sure. Who hasn’t? They’re the ones who first spread it to normal humans. But it’s kind of a dumb theory, because it still doesn’t explain why werewolves are what they are.”
“As an explanation for the origins of lycanthropy, yes, it is. Realistically, a purebred werewolf is someone whose lineage is made up entirely of werewolves. My family, for instance, is a mix of werewolf and human.”
“…You’re trying to tell me I’m purebred, aren’t you?” Lowell curled his legs up, bracing his arms and head on his knees. “What does that mean exactly?”
Peter sighed. “I don’t know, really. No one does. Werewolves are a hard species to study. But it’s been hypothesized before that purebreds are as much wolf as human, which means they probably have the behavioral patterns of both species.”
“But I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always…just acted human.”
“It’s possible that you simply never noticed the behavior before. Or maybe there was never anything to bring it out before. Given how cruel Stacey was to you, I’m not surprised you get angry whenever you see him.”
Lowell nodded but said nothing. He was mad at Stacey for that, yeah. But it was because of Peter that he was livid enough he wanted to wring Stacey’s rotten throat. Mate. He shied away. The word was a strange one. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
“I…there’s something else you should know, Low.” Peter’s face was expressionless, but Low could see the misery that made his eyes dark. “About being purebred.”
And Low didn’t know what did it – maybe his voice. Or his dark eyes. Or maybe simply that he’d learned long ago how to tell when bad news was coming and just how bad it was going to be. But he knew it was bad, and after that everything lined up neatly into place. His voice was thin when he spoke. “I can’t be cured, can I?”
“No,” Peter replied. “It would be like trying to cure Sally of being a vampire. Or of Stacey of being a jerk.” The joke fell flat.
Lowell stared at his hands, white-knuckled from gripping the blankets. Purebred. He really was a freak. Not just a human with some horrible disease. One hundred percent freak. Unnatural. Abnormal. There was no chance he’d ever be anything else, even if someday other werewolves were cured. He looked up at Peter, not certain what he was going to say. Maybe shout. Or cry.
But Peter, who watched him quietly, looked more miserable than he did. And that hurt worse than being purebred, somehow. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat. “It’s okay,” he said instead. “It’s not like I really thought I’d ever be anything else. I-I-if I have to be a werewolf, at least I get to be a really good one, yeah?”
“Low?” Peter blinked, clearly surprised.
Lowell smiled, and realized it was easier to do than he’d thought it would be. “Really. It’s okay.” An idea seized him and he went with it before he could chicken out, leaning forward and embracing Peter. “It’s fine.”
Peter seemed almost to melt as his tension eased. He held Low tightly. “I’m glad.”
“So I see he finally let you out of bed,” Sally said as she strolled into the kitchen as though she owned it. Her lime green skirt and pink top reminded Lowell of the rainbow sherbet in the freezer. “Still under house arrest?”
“Yes,” Lowell groused. “I tried to go outside yesterday and he threatened to tie me to the bedposts.”
“Huh. Didn’t peg him as the kinky sort.” Sally helped herself to some iced tea.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then Lowell was choking on his leftover chicken salad. He gasped for breath as Sally took a seat and stole a few of his potato chips. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked when he could speak again.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. He still won’t let me inside—“
“He never lets you inside,” Lowell said with a grin.
“Yeah, but now he’s grouchy about it. So I have to wait until he’s not here. Where did he go, anyway?”
Lowell shrugged. “He had to go see a patient too sick to leave her bed.” He poked at his chicken salad. “He’s been coming and going a lot lately.” Ever since the last time he’d seen Sally. He hadn’t really wanted chocolate cake since then.
“Probably avoiding reality, the idiot.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I think you’ll have to make the first move.”
The chicken salad was becoming more and more fascinating. “I have no idea what you’re talking about....bloodsucker.”
Sally pulled his hair. “Don’t you start that!” She sipped her tea, leaned back and folded her arms. “Let me guess. You’re both just completely ignoring what I said the other day.”
“It’s silly!” Low said, and wished he could hide his burning cheeks.
“You’re silly, that’s for certain. Do you not like him, after all? I was certain you did. I know he likes you…”
Lowell shrugged. “I don’t know. And I’m sure I’m just a bothersome kid to him.” He frowned, thoughts turning unwillingly to Stacey. Who was tall and strong and fit, even if he was an asshole. Handsome, too. It was all to easy to picture how amazing he and Peter would have looked together. He’d probably just look lame.
It wasn’t the sort of thing he normally thought about. Yeah, he got lonely sometimes. Okay, all the time. But he’d always dreamed of having friends…other werewolves to get along with. But werewolves didn’t often stay together long; it was comforting to have someone to suffer with, but it was also depressing to be with someone as unhappy as you.
To be with Peter like Stacey obviously had been?
Mate
Seemed way too surreal. Just trying to think about it shut his mind down. He reached up to touch his cheek, which always seemed to burn when he thought about Peter. “He’s going to be mad at you for interfering,” he said finally, dropping his hand and going back to eating. He moved his plate away when Sally tried to steal more potato chips.
She pouted at being thwarted. “He likes being mad at me. And if I don’t interfere, he’s going to spend his entire life being unhappy. Ever since you showed up he’s been more like his old self. And if you hadn’t been here, I think he would’ve finally lost it with Stacey’s appearance. He barely came out of that asshole leaving – didn’t even have the courage to actually break up, just slunk away with his tail between his legs. And now he’s back, probably because he’s realized too late how good he had it here—“ She stopped, but continued to fume in silence for another minute or two. “Anyway. You’re good for him. And he’s good for you, I think. You’re…not so quiet when he’s around. And you smile more.”
“What?”
Sally used his state of confusion to swipe a few more chips. “You heard me. And now I’m going before he comes back and I’m banished for an entire year instead of just a month.” She stood up. “Hey! Would you like to come watch movies with us? We were going to make popcorn and just lounge around all day. Surely that won’t get you into trouble with the mother hen.”
Lowell thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He stood up slowly and followed her out of the kitchen. As the screen door slammed shut behind them, a dark car pulled into the driveway.
“Who the hell…” Sally muttered with a frown. It was cloudy enough that even she couldn’t see well enough to make out who was in the car.
“Patient?” Lowell guessed, but that wasn’t a convincing guess even to him. Peter’s patients didn’t drive cars like that, if they bothered to drive at all.
A tall, slender man climbed out. The light from the kitchen was just enough to show his features.
“Oh my god…” Sally said softly.
“What?” Lowell asked, frowning as the man approached. But he didn’t need Sally to tell him the man’s identity. The family resemblance was more than enough.
“Is Pete here?” the man asked.
If he’d been in wolf form, his hackles would’ve been up. Stacey was still number one on his list, but this man had just become number one part b. “No. And you can leave.”
The man just raised one brow. “And just who are you to be ordering me around?” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re just a pup.”
“I wouldn’t call him that, Connor.” Sally interrupted. “I’ve seen him take down a wolf with more experience than you, and if you’re here to see Petey antagonizing his boyfriend isn’t going to improve your chances.”
Lowell would have protested, but Sally’s nails digging into his arm was a pretty clear message.
“Huh. Didn’t know Pete had a thing for kids.”
“I’m not a kid,” Lowell said, hoping the dark hid his red cheeks. “And I really think you should leave.” He wondered suddenly if Sally was holding on to him in warning or to keep him in place.
“I don’t take orders from a pup, especially one that sleeps with my brother. Where’s Pete?”
Headlights hit them as Peter’s car pulled up into the drive. He climbed out slowly, and even in the dark Lowell could see he was upset. Sally let him go and he ran down the drive to where Peter stood by his car, ignoring the pain flaring up in his leg. What made him do it, he didn’t know. ‘Doctor Sues Pup For Sexual Harassment.’ All but throwing himself at Peter, Lowell reached up and kissed him quickly, clumsily, on the mouth.
“Low…” Peter caught him around the waist reflexively. “What? Why?”
“Because,” was the best Lowell could manage.
“Pete.”
“Connor,” Peter said. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
tsaiko, who had a bad day and alway makes me smile when my days suck, and skylark97, who is 100% responsible for the existence of this story. Two parts down, one to go ^_^Part Two: Full Moon
"So what is that you're working on?" Lowell took another cautious sip of the concoction Peter had prepared for him, wrinkling his nose at the smell - a weird cross between rotten fruit and burnt toast. Luckily it tasted a little better than that, though not by much.
But if it would keep him closer to sane later that night, he would drink something prepared by even their bloodthirsty neighbors.
Peter's lab was much like the rest of his house, filled with all manner of miscellany arranged in what Lowell could only describe as "tidy clutter." The lab was much more packed compared to the rest of the house, one whole wall converted into shelving and crammed full of textbooks, medical books, notebooks and what even looked like several books on lore and legend. They varied in age and care, from pristine volumes that looked unused to books that clearly hadn't seen anything but dust and grime for the better part of a century.
The rest of the lab was set apart from the miniature library and the whole was kept meticulously clear of the dust and grime. Metal cabinets with glass doors hung from the walls over wide tables covered with jars, tubes and flasks filled with all manner of liquids and powders. White legal pads were at each small station, filled with page and page of neatly printed notes, various bits highlighted or circled.
Lowell thought it was cute, in a mad scientist, totally Peter kind of way. Cute enough to hang around, though the acrid smell of the chemicals drove his heightened senses crazy. He hated all the little changes that preceded a transformation almost more than the transformation itself. Slight changes to his teeth, his hair got rougher, senses improved…and he was always hungry. Luckily it would all be over for a little bit after tonight.
"Something for a selkie," Peter said, answering his question. "Do you know anything about them?"
"Yeah," Lowell said after a moment of thought. "The pelts thing, right?"
"Yes. They're not really terribly healthy without them. This will make her feel a little bit better." Peter looked at him in amusement. "It's easier if you gulp it, Low. Sipping it just prolongs the agony."
Lowell made a face. "You're not the one drinking it."
"True enough," Peter said with a laugh. "But I've had enough bitter medicines of my own that I know that the faster they go, the easier it is. Unless you like prolonged torture."
Sticking his tongue in protest of Peter's logic, Lowell gave the potion one last grimace before chugging it back. He nearly choked, slamming the glass down on the lab table and gasping for breath. "That's disgusting! Ugh, what's in it? Never mind. I'm probably happier not knowing."
"Yes, you are." Peter set down the beaker he'd been carefully shaking. "But that nasty potion will mean you'll keep more of your wits about you."
"That'll be a nice change." Lowell stared at the dregs in the bottom of the glass, a grayish green substance that he was and was not looking forward to drinking again next month. Which reminded him. "So when will the experiments start?"
Peter looked up from his notes again, and this time set aside his pen. "About a week from tonight. That'll give you plenty of time to recover from the transformation, and take you closest to full human, meaning the silver will impact you less than it would if you were closer to another transformation."
"Right." Which led Lowell right to his next question. "How do you drink silver?"
Peter laughed and stood up. "I expected that question a while ago." He strode over to a metal cabinet and unlocked it. Lowell noticed no other cabinets had locks.
Lowell winced, realizing suddenly that the cabinet must be lined with something - because he hadn't realized until then that there was silver inside it. Reaching inside, Peter withdrew a small glass bottle. It was of clear glass and looked like a small wine bottle, right down to the cork that sealed it. Inside was a thin, silvery-white liquid. It seemed almost to shimmer, just a bit, as Peter swirled it gently.
"Made from 'the more rarified parts of silver,'" Peter quoted with a smile. "And turned into a wine. Alchemists called it the 'Tincture of the Moon'. My working theory is that it’s the key to the cure." Peter locked the tincture away again and returned to the lab table where Lowell sat. "The thing you have to keep in mind, Low, is this. So far as your body knows, the lycanthropy is completely natural. Painful, annoying, but natural. A disease to which your body has adapted. Stripping you of it, should I actually manage such a thing years from now, is not unlike losing a limb. But I don't think you'll understand that until too late."
Lowell frowned, wanting to argue - how could losing the damn problem be that bad? - but habit kept him from it. Arguing with someone, especially someone who was housing, clothing, feeding and attempting to cure you, was generally a bad idea. "How come?" he finally said.
"Well," Peter tapped his fingers on the table as he thought of the best way to explain. "You were born with it. Your body doesn't know how not to live with it. That's why those that are bitten often can't handle it - their bodies aren't born to bear the strain of the transformations, the altering of the senses and such that comes before each transformation. They're used to being just human. Not human and wolf. You're the exact opposite. You were born that way, your body learned to cope. You have a level of adaptation that a bitten person lacks. For instance - right now many of your senses have improved, as has your strength. And your sight."
"Yeah, life gets interesting. You have no idea how noxious this drink of yours smells, even when it's all gone."
Peter laughed.
Lowell set the glass down and slid off the stool on which he'd been seated. "I'm going to go lay down for a bit."
"All right. I'm going to be down here a bit longer and then I'll probably try to hold back the neighbors."
Lowell froze, cringing. "They're coming over?"
"What? You haven't noticed the eerie silence of the bloodsuckers on their best behavior?"
Lowell gave Peter an 'are you crazy?' look. "What about all the yowling this morning?"
Peter smiled back, pure Mad Scientist. "I never said I was on my best behavior."
Every night Lowell thanked his itty bitty, barely visible, pathetic little lucky star that where Peter was concerned, the star actually functioned. Because if Peter treated him the way he treated the vampires, Lowell wondered if he'd survive the night. "I'm surprised the cops don't patrol by here more often."
"You'll have to ask Sally why they don't, any longer. That episode was entirely her fault."
Lowell refrained from comment and beat a hasty retreat from the lab while Peter continued to chuckle. 'Wolf Boy Dies Tragically in Crossfire. Vampire and Mad Scientist Still At Large!' Upstairs he fought the urge to lock his door - he'd go nuts later if he wasn’t able to get out - and in the end settled for almost closing it. Stripping so that he wouldn't ruin his clothes, he stretched out on his bed and fell into a light doze. Transforming was always easier if he started it half-asleep.
*~*~*~*
Peter was simultaneously startled and soothed by the familiar click of claws on hardwood and linoleum. He looked up and smiled, nostalgia mixing with the excitement of seeing a new wolf.
And Lowell made for a pretty wolf, just as Peter had known he would. It wasn't just the fact that he was plenty handsome, although that was part of it. It was the muscle-tone and the discipline, the way he'd seemed almost half-wild in his fear and nervousness, the way he laughed only when everyone else was laughing. All of it no doubt built by the hard life that was painfully familiar to far too many werewolves.
Peter slid off his chair and knelt on the floor, stretching out his hands as the wolf approached. In its yellow eyes he could see an awareness that wasn't natural to wolves. Lowell wasn't entirely himself but he wasn't completely wolf either. So his tonic had worked on Low with no problems.
Wolf Lowell was a mix of cream and a reddish-brown, the fur rough but softer than that of a truly wild wolf. On the large side for a wolf, but because of the tonic as friendly as a puppy. Lowell butted at his hands in a sort of acknowledgement, then made for the back door.
Peter opened it before the wolf could do any damage, snatching up his coat before following him outside. He glared once they reached the front yard. "I thought I told the two of you to stay inside."
Sally beamed, clutching a plate of raw steak like another woman would a tray of cookies. "We wanted to come say hello."
Jordan pointed at his wife. "She made me." He grunted as she stamped on his foot.
Ignoring the two men, Sally knelt on the grass and set the platter down in front of an inquisitive Lowell. "He's so cute!"
"I bet you say that to all the wild animals," Peter replied.
"Only my husband and this cutie here." Sally stuck her tongue out. "You're passable I suppose, Mad Scientist."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Isn't it time for you to leave yet?"
"Speaking of yets," Sally said as she stood up, brushing grass and dirt from her bright green and yellow skirt. "Have you said or done anything yet, or are you just giving him little looks when he's not paying attention?"
"Sally!" Peter hissed. "Behave!"
"What?" Sally flicked her fingers at him impatiently. "Forgive the pun, but all this mooning isn't going to get you anywhere."
Peter flicked his gaze to Lowell, who had finished his meat and was exploring Sally's skirt in the hopes of finding more. "Good, because I'm not trying to get anywhere. He can't be more than 20, 21. Stacey was my last mistake; I won't do that to Lowell. And whoever said I was mooning?"
"Oh, please." Jordan snickered. "He's exactly your type - and you never deliberate. You're the fall fast type."
"And you have room to talk? Or did you forget, Mr. I Will Wander Aimlessly Forever, that while Sally wasn't giving you the time of day I gave you a place to crash?"
Jordan just grinned. "How do you think I recognize the type? He is awful cute; one little word from you and you'd have a keeper I bet. Not like Stacey. That boy always did reek of trouble."
"Yeah, yeah." Peter's voice was bitter. "He would have stayed if I hadn't dragged the experiments into it."
"He would have stayed longer but in the end, Petey, he'd still be gone."
Peter let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Anyway. I don't want to give Low one little word - he shouldn't just settle for the first good thing to happen to him. He can do far better than me." He shook his head suddenly and glared darkly at the vampires. "Why am I discussing this? He's been here barely three weeks. It's not an option. Jeez, he’s just a kid."
Sally stooped to pet the wolf that had was still searching for more food, having gone back to make sure he'd licked the plate completely clean. "This doesn't look like a pup to me. He really is a pretty one, isn't he?"
"Yes," Peter agreed reluctantly. "A full-blooded werewolf."
"Aren't they all? Sort of the problem with the curse?"
"Not necessarily." Peter shook his head. "My father was human. That's why my brother was a wolf but I wasn't." He looked as though he would say something else, but opted not to in the end. "Connor's wolf form was a bit smaller than Low's. So was Stacey’s."
Jordan looked thoughtful. "So size is indicative of…purity of wolf?"
"Well, it’s not much different than a dog that's half wolf - almost but not quite as good as full-blooded wolf. But yes, size is generally an indication of the strength of the blood. I doubt Low has a single drop of human blood in him."
Sally lifted a brow at that. "Is that rare?"
"Quite." He watched as Peter began to pad across the yard toward the street. "I had wondered, but given what little I know of his history I doubt he knew."
"Is it relevant somehow? Or just a professional curiosity?"
"Relevant," Peter said tiredly. "It means that even if I do find a cure, it won't work on him."
Sally and Jordan winced. "Poor thing," Sally murmured. "He wants so bad to be just human - werewolves really have it rough. I've never seen a species so determined to wipe itself out."
Lowell hit the street and picked up his pace, tongue lolling as he quickly traveled away from the house. Peter cursed and chased after him, calling over his shoulder to the vampires. "Don't do anything while I'm gone! I mean it!"
It was about two miles into town, and lord only knew how much traveling Lowell would do once they reached town. He'd once spent an entire night wandering around following Connor - they hadn't gotten home until a good three hours after sunrise. He really hoped they wouldn't be gone that long.
He looked up as a beat up red pick up slowed down to a crawl beside him. "Ev'ning, Doc. That your new boy there?" A man with bushy blonde hair and a beard to match motioned to the wolf that was ambling several yards ahead, though periodically he stopped to wait for Peter to catch up.
"Yes, it is." Peter smiled. "Coming back from the city?"
"Yep, we just finished delivering." The man looked at the wolf again, speaking idly with the driver, who looked like a younger, beardless version of him. "Stop on by the house later, Doc. Les had a pie she wanted to give you, and we could find a snack for the wolf. What was his name again?"
"Lowell," Peter said. "And that's kind of you. I'm sure we'll be out your way before the night is out. Tell Leslie I said hello."
"Sure will, Doc." The man nodded to himself. "Nice wolf - good to see a real one 'round again. See you later, Doc." With that, the two men waved and took off down the road, turning right at the intersection.
Peter shook his head and laughed softly to himself. "Poor Low. There's no way they're going to let you hide away now." He continued to walk idly behind the curious, eager werewolf as he led them into town.
Midsummer's Night was small, only a few thousand people. And as they reached it, more than a few were already in the street, hanks of meat in hand to feed the werewolf that eagerly approached.
"Y'all are acting like you've never seen a werewolf before."
An older woman with curly gray hair laughed as she petted Lowell's heavy coat. "We haven't, not in a long, long time. That other one you had for a bit never came out. Petey, he's lovely. Even more amazing than your mother was. Is he going to be staying awhile? It's been so long…"
Peter shrugged. "I've told him to stay as long as he wants, Vee. It's up to him."
"We'll make sure he stays. Won't we girls?" Around Vee, several women of varying ages nodded.
"If you keep stuffing him like a turkey," Peter said dryly. "He'll certainly be unable to move."
A man of about twenty laughed as the wolf licked his hand for any remaining traces of meat. "Lots friendlier than that other one - he always had a mean look. This one is as bad as a puppy. Your doing, Petey?"
"Yeah," Peter said softly.
An old, balding man nodded approvingly. "Even when you were little, you helped make things easier for your family. It'll be good to have a werewolf around again. Too many of those damned creatures from the hills have been picking cattle off again. They smell the wolf, they'll back off."
Peter laughed. "I'll be sure to tell Low that you'll be putting him to work. He'll be happy to be of help." His laughter faded into a smile as the wolf wandered his way, nose pushing at his hand. "He doesn't like being idle."
"Then tell the boy to stop hiding away in the house and come visit as a person."
"Yes," a whispy voice said from behind Pete. "We've been dying to meet him."
"Ha ha ha." Peter rolled his eyes as he turned. "Ghosts shouldn't make dead jokes, Cherry."
The ghost in question, a pale, faded image of the living young woman she once had been, gave a whispy laugh. "Who better to make them?" She held out a whispy hand to the wolf, who smelled it with interest for a moment but then went back to Peter. "He's lovely. I hope you keep this one, Petey."
Peter said nothing, merely squatted down on the balls of his feet to pet Lowell properly.
He looked up as a girl of about eight approached from behind her mom, and shook his head slowly. "Mindy, stop there and come around this way." He motioned for the girl to circle around so that she approached Lowell from the front. "Even if he can smell you just fine, you should always approach from the front, so he can see you. All right?"
The girl nodded.
Peter held out his hand. "Then come here," he took hers and held it out for Lowell to examine, then showed her the right way to pet him. "Don't approach a wolf unless your parents or myself are around, all right? He smiled when she nodded again. "Good girl."
"He's pretty," the quiet girl's voice was little more than a whisper.
Peter started to reply that yes, he was - but then he noticed a slight tensing in Lowell's demeanor. "Mindy," he said a voice that brooked no argument. "Go back to your mother."
Mindy looked at him with a small frown but nodded and obeyed, turning and running back to her mother.
Around them the town had quieted at Peter's tone and a moment later when Lowell began to growl they all began to back away - not from fear, but familiarity. Something was upsetting the wolf, and it was best to stay out of the way until they learned the source of the problem.
Still growling, Lowell abruptly took off like a shot back out of town. Cursing, stumbling as he stood up, Peter chased after him.
But he was far from a match for a wolf, especially one as fit as Lowell. Panting, he slowed to a brisk walk and followed the wolf until he vanished into the woods that filled the area behind Peter's house.
The disturbing sound of what could only be a fight spurred him into running again.
Peter crashed through the forest, ignoring the branches and leaves that cut his face and hands – he stopped just short of where Lowell was locked into a brutal fight with another wolf.
He felt something in his chest wrench, realizing the second wolf was painfully familiar.
What was Stacey doing here?
Peter winced as Lowell let out a pained cry, limping on his left foreleg – Stacey had always been nasty in a fight. But then the two wolves were yet again a blur of motion and Peter scrambled backward to get out of their way, though really it looked like they didn’t even notice him.
No - it almost seemed as if they were avoiding him. Peter shook off the strange thought, more concerned with Stacey’s presence.
And with stopping them before they managed to kill each other. He could see far too much blood on their coats. He’d often watched his family play as wolves…but this wasn’t playing and interfering would earn him a nasty wound and then he wouldn’t be able to help them.
He took off after them again, lungs burning, as the fought their way through the forest – Peter realized Stacey was running away, Lowell chasing after him like his life depended on it.
Peter stumbled to a halt again as he barreled out of the forest and into a familiar backyard.
“What in the hell?” Sally shrieked and ran for her porch, gaping in shock at the wolves tearing her lawn and garden apart. “Peter! What’s the meaning of this?” She blinked at the werewolves. “Is that…”
“Yes,” Peter managed, gasping for breath. “We need to stop them.”
Sally nodded and shouted for her husband. Together the two of them went to work distracting the werewolves, interfering and slowly separating them – being harassed by creatures that to the wolves seemed soaked in blood was enough to impede their efforts to kill each other. “Now what, Peter?”
“Don’t let them bite you,” Peter said. From his pocket he withdrew a capped syringe. “This is an added precaution,” he looked at it unhappily. “I wasn’t supposed to actually have to use it.”
Jordan grunted from where he barely was holding Stacey to the ground. “This one wasn’t supposed to be here. Just do it – even I can’t hold him for long.”
Peter nodded and knelt at Stacey’s side, helping Jordan hold him still and then sticking him.
“I don’t think you’ll need it for Low,” Sally said with a smile, petting the wolf who was panting and half-heartedly growling in her lap.
“Oh give me…” Peter shook his head, fighting a smile, and made to stand up.
Stacey, who’d gone still, suddenly broke out of Jordan’s hold and launched himself at Peter, sinking his teeth into the arm half-lifted to ward him off.
“Peter!” Sally started to stand, Lowell snarling in her arms.
“Don’t let him go,” Peter shouted, holding his arm and watching as Jordan wrestled Stacey back down – but the black and white werewolf was rapidly succumbing to the drugs in its system, and a minute later was out like a light. “Get them both to my house,” Peter said tightly. He caught sight of Sally’s clothes and arms, which were liberally covered in wolf blood. “I’m sorry to drag you two into this.”
“Explain to us what this is and all’s forgiven.” Sally winked. “And you have to help me fix the garden.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter groused, but he smiled back. He reached out to pet Lowell, who had slowly approached his side, head down. “You’re limping, but you’ll survive. C’mon, Low…have you two got him?”
Jordan and Sally both grimaced. “Only because you won’t let us leave the stupid bastard,” Sally said. “We got him. Carrying a wolf is nothing like dealing with a child, trust me.”
“And what would you know about hauling around children?” Peter asked, leading the way across the street to his house.
Sally beamed, all innocence. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Where should we put him?” Jordan asked, interrupting them.
“In his room,” Peter replied after a moment of thought. “I’ll put Low in mine – and shut the hell up,” he said, ignoring the looks between them. “This is not time for jokes like that.”
“Who said we were joking?” Sally murmured quietly to her husband, who remained silent but smiled back fondly. Grunting and cursing, they hauled the unconscious Stacey up and into his bedroom, throwing the wolf rather more roughly than perhaps they should. “Bastard,” Sally said again. “I hope you wake up in abject pain. If not – I can rectify that.” She nodded briskly, affirming her words to whoever was listening.
“Come on, my violent little blood drinker,” Jordan took his wife by the arm and they waited downstairs while Peter tended to his patients and his own arm.
The doctor looked weary as he joined them, arm bandaged, in nothing but jeans and an old t-shirt. He looked strange, oddly vulnerable, without his perpetual labcoat.
Jordan frowned, eyeing the arm. “Doc…”
“It’s fine,” Peter said tightly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Sally snorted. “In case you hadn’t notice, Petey—“
“It’s nothing.” Peter snapped, holding his arm. “I’ve been bitten before. It’s fine.”
Dead silence fell, as comprehension dawned with Peter’s words.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got patients to take care of. You know the way out.”
The vampires nodded numbly and quietly left.
Peter scrubbed his face, blocking thoughts and problems he didn’t feel like dealing with, focusing everything on healing his patients, on seeing that Low and Stacey…he did not need Stacey back in his life now. Why was he here? Why had the two gotten into such a nasty fight? Werewolves, unlike real wolves, were not territorial. So that left a different reason for Lowell’s voracious chase down and attack of Stacey.
And why the hell was Stacey back?
He’d waited a long, long time for Stacey to return – he’d thought Stacey would be the one to stay. Getting over his leaving had taken more than he’d been sure he had. And now that he was over it, he didn’t feel like tearing it all open again. Stacey was gone, done, a closed chapter.
And he had Lowell now – Peter shoved that thought right out of his head. Wearily he dragged himself to the kitchen and set the coffee to brew. Both wolves seemed fine, but he’d have to wait until they changed back to make sure they were really okay.
Lowell woke with a start and stared uncomprehending at the ceiling for several minutes before he realized why it bothered him.
It wasn't familiar.
He sat up, suddenly feeling sick and panicked.
Where was he? Where was his room? Whose room was this? Where was Peter?
Why did his arm hurt? And that, he realized, was an easily answered question - look at the arm. Lowell turned his aching head until he could see his arm - and felt cold.
Oh, god. Why was his arm bandaged? Throwing back the covers to stand up, Lowell froze up even more to see that his leg was bandaged as well - and now was beginning to throb. Pulling the blankets back up with his good arm, Lowell curled up into a ball and began to cry.
He'd gotten into a fight, even with Peter's drink. Had he bitten someone? Shuddering, shivering, Lowell sobbed into the blankets.
Who had he hurt? What if he'd hurt Peter?
Should he stay? Should he run? He didn't even know where he was!
He went still, choking on tears, at the sound of the door opening. Listened in silence to the shuffling and rattling as someone set something down and then approached the bed. A soft, warm hand touched his shoulder. "Low?"
Lowell snapped his head up, ignoring the pain caused by the sudden movement and felt an enormous weight lift from his chest. "Peter!" he said in relief.
Peter looked horrified. "Low? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I didn't--I didn't know where I was! And I was scared I'd bitten you – or someone else. And--“ Lowell dissolved into tears again, too relieved to know he was home and Peter was okay to chastise himself for being a big baby. And suddenly he was completely engulfed in warmth and the scent of coffee and pancakes and medicine. Peter's arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders, pressing Low against his chest. One hand began to soothe up and down his back, as Low murmured quiet, comforting words.
"Shhh…" And Low thought that voice alone was the reason Peter was such a popular doctor. It made him feel better despite himself.
His own voice was rough and muffled against Peter's chest. "I hurt someone, didn't I? Did I bite them deep enough?" It made him start crying all over again. "I can't remember anything." Unintentionally he dug his fingers into Peter's sides.
Peter drew back and cupped Low's face in his hands, thumbs wiping away his tears. "Everything is fine, Low. No one was seriously hurt." He smiled. "Plus you gave Sally a good shock. So in my book all is forgiven. So no more crying, okay? You don't have anything to worry about." A wink. "And this is my room, so relax. Okay?"
Nodding feebly, Lowell sniffled and forced himself to stop crying. Looking around the room, he suddenly felt every kind of idiot. Because there was a familiar lab coat folded neatly across the back of a chair, and near the dresser was a stack of books that could only belong to Peter. One by one he picked out items that marked the room as belonging to the doctor and he turned red, head dropping in embarrassment.
Peter stood and walked over to the mirrored dresser pressed against the wall just next to the bed. "I've brought some medicine along with breakfast. You're to take the former and eat all of the latter - no arguments. Is that understood? Your bandages shouldn't need to be changed for a little while yet, so just sit back and relax. Doctor's orders.”
"I'm sorry," Lowell said as Peter set a breakfast tray across his lap.
Peter ruffled his hair. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Low."
"Who did I hurt?" Lowell asked, feeling sick all over again.
"I think it best if that waits until both my patients are well again. I've no doubt you'll both just start fighting again and that is not going to help either of you heal. So - bed rest until I say otherwise." He shook a finger when Lowell started to protest. "Doctor's orders. Nonnegotiable. Now eat your breakfast, take your medicine and get some rest. Look – I even made you coffee. So be good and do as you’re told.” Peter winked again. "I'll come back after I've checked on my other patient."
Lowell frowned. "You look tired," he blurted before he realized what he'd planned to say. But it was true - as cheerful as Peter was being, the doctor looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, face tight and as warm as his smiles were they also looked strained.
"A bit, maybe." Peter looked just as startled as Lowell. "But nothing coffee now and a nap later won't fix." He smiled. "I'll be back in a bit. That plate had better be clean when I return."
Lowell watched as he left, miserable, sore and confused. He stared at his plate, not hungry at all. But pleasing Peter was far more important so Lowell picked up his fork and slowly began to clean his plate.
When he woke up again, it was to the sound of two people bickering quite loudly in the hallway. He almost smiled, still half asleep, and waited for Sally to barge in despite Peter’s rather colorful threats.
Ten seconds later Sally threw the door open and sauntered into Peter’s bedroom as though she owned it, an explosion of pink and orange and yellow. Behind her in the hallway, Peter’s expression was very unbecoming a doctor.
“Low!” Sally chirped. “You’re looking pretty good for someone—“
“Shut it, bloodsucker. If you’re going to insist on staying, you’re going to keep your mouth shut. Not. One. Word.”
“Not one word,” Sally promised with a nod. She made shooing notions. “Go away now, so we can chat without the mother hen hovering.”
Lowell started to protest, but Peter turned away the same moment Sally launched into a discussion of all the town gossip Low had missed the past three days, and Low could do nothing but listen – and eat the chicken soup Sally had brought along with her. It was pretty good, though he’d never had chicken soup with garlic in it before.
At last Sally’s chatter died down, and a more pensive frown replaced her smile. “Are you doing all right, Low?”
“I’m—“ Low stopped. “I’m okay, I guess. Peter won’t tell me what happened, but I know I did something wrong…” Low fiddled with is spoon, staring at the dregs of soup still in the bowl.
Sally took it away from him and set the bowl on the nightstand. She held his hand in her own and made Low look at her. “Low, you did nothing wrong – except maybe upset my backyard a bit. And you’ll help me fix it, so that’s okay.” She hesitated. “Peter’s…”
“He’s upset,” Low said. “He looks tired, probably because I’m stealing his bed, and…I dunno. He doesn’t look like Peter.”
“You’re very observant,” Sally said with a smile, reaching up to brush a few stray bits of hair from his eyes. She seemed to be considering something, and after a moment nodded to herself. “I’ll probably never be allowed anywhere near this house afterwards, but I think your knowing will do Peter some good.”
When she finished explaining, Low frowned. “But what happened to his arm? Did one of us…”
“No!” Sally declared vehemently. “It’s just a scratch, so don’t worry.”
“But who’s the other wolf?”
Sally hesitated. “His ex-boyfriend.”
Low stiffened. “Stacey?” he asked, voice taking on a hardness that made Sally stare.
“Yes,” she replied slowly. “You’d better keep your ass in this bed.”
“Only because it still hurts too much to stand for very long.”
Sally frowned and held more tightly to his hand. “How do you know Stacey?”
“He’s the jerk who sent me here for a cure.”
“I see,” Sally said slowly. “Do you think that’s why you were so adamant about kicking his furry ass?”
Low shrugged and looked away, muttering a faint “maybe” to the dark green coverlet.
Soft, slender fingers ruffled his hair, and from the corner of his eye he saw Sally stand and move toward the door. “Stay here and behave, Low. I mean it. Whatever your reasons for disliking Stacey,” she waggled a finger at him. “Don’t do something that would upset Peter. He’s got enough worries at the moment.”
Lowell thought mentioning that he’d gladly take care of one of those problems would be better not to mention to Sally. But the minute he was better… “I know. I won’t upset him.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you later – and next time I’ll bring chocolate cake.” She blew him a kiss and then was gone, and Low could hear her talking to Peter in the hallway.
Stacey…Lowell slowly folded his legs up and rested his arms and head on his knees. Everything about him had seemed rough around the edges but overall cool. He’d seemed earnest, straight up, and it had been so long since Lowell had seen another werewolf. And so confident!
Fool him for believing such a stupid thing. But worse was Stacey, to mislead werewolves with the sole intent of hurting Peter. The minute he was better he was going to rip Stacey apart.
Peter walked in as he was laying down, and Low immediately sat back up. “Peter!” He smiled, determined not to make the look in Peter’s eyes worse.
“So what did you she tell you?” Peter asked wearily, though he managed to interject some humor. He shoved his hair from his face as he sat on the edge of the bed. “So I know why I’m banning her?”
Low was silent, deliberating. “She told who the other wolf is.”
“I see.” Peter did not sound pleased. “That’s a good reason to ban her.”
“She’s only worried about you.” His hands fisted in the blankets. “So am I. You…you don’t look like Peter.” He looked down when Peter looked up. “I can move to the couch or something, so you can have your room back.”
Peter smiled and reached out tousle his hair. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“But something’s wrong. Is it him?”
“To some degree. But I can handle Stacey – five years of living with him gives you plenty of ammo. He never was very good natured about being sick or injured.” Peter laughed briefly. “And it chafes that he was on the losing end, which I was glad to point out to him.”
Lowell gloated to himself. He wasn’t proud he’d gotten into a fight, but at least it was Stacey and apparently he’d been winning against the jerk. He started to ask more questions, but noticed that Peter had gone distant again, the anxiety clear in his face. “What’s really wrong?” he reached out and cautiously touched Peter’s hand.
“It’s nothing,” Peter forced a smile. “Please, don’t worry.” He stood up. “I’ve got to run some errands, I’ll probably be gone a few hours. Is there anything you’d like me to get for you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Peter nodded. “Stay here, okay? I admonished Stacey to do the same, but I have no doubt he’ll get out of bed and try to do something. So promise me you’ll stay here? And ignore him? I don’t want to come back and find you worse off than before.”
“I’ll stay here,” Lowell said. He didn’t think it was necessary to mention that the minute he could move easily again, Stacey was going to be shown the door with excessive force. Peter smiled at him, and Lowell smiled back. For some reason, it felt like there was something he was supposed to say. But he didn’t know what, and so Peter left while the silence lingered. Frowning, Lowell pulled up the blankets and burrowed down to sleep. They smelled nice, like soap and Peter, and the faintest hint of chemical and medicine that seemed to follow the man no matter what.
Distantly he heard the car start up and pull out, fading away as Peter drove off. Several minutes a door opened, and he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He tensed, fighting the urge to get up see what Stacey was up to. He’d promised.
Though if the bastard came to him all bets were off.
But the footsteps traveled away, down the stairs until Lowell could hear nothing more. He buried his fingers in the sheets, literally clinging to them to resist getting up going downstairs to get of the wolf that was in his home threatening his—
Lowell stopped, shaken. His what? And it wasn’t his home. It was Peter’s. What was wrong with him? Shaken, he hid under the blankets until he was nearly suffocating with heat. He focused on the smell of Lowell that clung to them, blacking out everything else until his own mind began to feel more familiar to him.
What was wrong with him?
He fell into an uneasy sleep and woke with a start some hours later. It took him a few minutes to figure out what had woken him…but then voices drifted up the stairs and toward his room.
Which meant they were being pretty loud. Lowell shook his head and slowly sat up, straining to hear what was being said. To no avail – they were speaking loudly but not so that he could understand.
Grimacing, Lowell climbed out of bed and left the room. It was slow-going, because his leg was sore and stiff, giving him a sort of hobbling gait. The stairs were a whole new nightmare, and Lowell was exhausted by the time he got downstairs. He’d been so busy focusing on his steps he hadn’t picked up the thread of the conversation.
Well, one angry. In a smug sort of way. The other – Peter – merely sounded like a sad sort of anger.
“I want you gone,” Peter said. Lowell remained at the foot of the stairs, watching the two men who had not yet seen him.
Stacey took Peter’s hand, holding on tight when Peter tried to pull away. “I know you’re happy to see me again.”
“Not really, no. You left.” Peter stared out the window. “I waited a year for you. By the second I got tired of it. I’m over you.” He faced Stacey. “You’re not part of my life anymore. I don’t want you to be. As you’re able to walk around, I expect you to be gone for good by the end of the week. And you’d better not cause anymore trouble.” His tone as he finished was that of a doctor dealing with a troublesome patient.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Stacy said, trying to sound soothing but coming off only as impatient. A casual observer would definitely find themselves giving him a second and possibly a third glance. Stacey had the sort of features associated with high school sweethearts or the boy next door. His hair was the blonde usually found only in young children, eyes a contrasting dark brown. “I missed you. I was coming to see you. Then that little brat attacked me.”
Peter’s expression turned from annoyed to furious. “Leave him out of it.”
“It’s true though. He attacked me. You’ve got a rather nasty wolf in your house.”
“You’re right, I do. And you can get out of it.” Peter finally succeeded in getting his hand free and moved to leave.
Stacey blocked him, then leaned up and kissed him.
Lowell snapped. One minute he was standing at the foot of the stairs, the next all he knew was shouting and cursing and the satisfying crack of Stacey’s head against the floor. His leg hurt something fierce, but it was distant, hazy. He glared down at Stacey. “Don’t touch him!”
“See what I mean?” Stacey said, looking at Peter, who stood motionless, trying to figure out what to do. “Nasty and vicious.”
Lowell said nothing, merely lifted Stacey up enough to shake him hard. “I didn’t leave him. It wasn’t me that bit him!” He started to say that it was time for Stacey to leave, but his mouth had other things to say. “This isn’t your place anymore. I won’t let you hurt what’s mine.” A shocked silence fell hard upon the room, and Lowell’s own words finally struck him. His hands started shaking and he gave Stacey one last shake before releasing him. Stacey’s head struck the floor again. Lowell tried to climb to his feet, but stumbled, crying in pain. He fell down hard, clutching at his leg.
“Low…” Peter gently helped him up. “Come on…back to bed with you. Can you make it up the stairs? Or would you prefer to lay on the couch?”
“Up,” Lowell managed, and with Peter’s assistance and several long minutes of work he finally was able to collapse into bed. He didn’t let go of Peter’s coat when he turned to go. “I’m sorry…” he said, voice barely audible. He looked at the dresser as he spoke. “I don’t…I didn’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Peter sighed softly and sat down beside him, combing Lowell’s hair back gently. “It’s all right. Nothing is wrong with you.” He smiled weakly, some embarrassment in it. “I’m glad you think of this place as home.”
“But I promised…” Lowell said guiltily, because he’d fully intended to beat Stacey into oblivious while Peter wasn’t around but he hadn’t meant to act like that. Like some sort of…animal. He cringed inwardly. What was wrong with him all of a sudden?
“It’s all right,” Peter repeated. He squeezed Lowell’s hand. “Stacey’s good at making people mad. It was something I chose to overlook for years.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t particularly want him kissing me.” He laughed suddenly, and leaned down to kiss Low’s cheek. “Thank you for rescuing me.” Giving Lowell’s hand one more reassuring squeeze, Peter stood up and slipped into the role of doctor. “Now please stay here and let that leg heal. Honestly, my worst patients are always men. I’ll bring you some dinner in a bit – behave until then and I’ll bring dessert as well.”
Lowell watched him leave, and continued to stare at the closed door long after he was gone. Eventually he fell asleep, one hand caught between the bed and his cheek.
“So I hear you picked a fight,” Sally said, causing Lowell to look up. Her tone was teasing, but there was a gentle reprimand in it.
Lowell flushed in shame. “I know. I didn’t mean to…I just…lost my temper.” He closed his book, not looking up as Sally pulled up a chair beside the bed. “I’m sorry.”
Sally clucked. “That’s okay. Why not tell me what happened? I never could get it out of Petey.” Lowell obediently told her what had happened two days ago, and by the end of it Sally was laughing gleefully. “That’s so cute!” She winked at him. “You’re so quiet, usually. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Had what? A temper?” Lowell frowned at his hands. “I’ve been in plenty of fights before. People took me for an easy target, though for what I’m not sure. I’ve always been poor and homeless.”
“Now, now. Let’s not be despondent.” Sally opened the small plastic container she’d been holding. “Here. Like I promised.”
Lowell smiled despite his foul mood and accepted the fork she held out next. “Thanks, Sally.”
“My pleasure. We’ve been married long enough, my husband doesn’t bother to admire my cooking anymore. It’s nice to see someone who enjoys it.” She waited until he’d eaten a few bites. “As to my earlier comment…I meant I didn’t know you had it in you to be that…aggressively protective.” She smiled. “It’ll be good for Peter, to have someone who looks out for him for a change.”
“I…I think something’s wrong with me. I’ve been acting weird since I woke up.” Lowell played with the plastic fork, poking it into the cake. “More…something than normal.”
Sally surprised him by laughing. “I don’t think you need to worry, Low, so long as you don’t pick anymore fights.”
“But that’s just it!” Low burst out. “I don’t pick fights – never. I always avoid them if I can. I hate fighting. I don’t even like watching it, not even in movies and stuff. And now I’ve gotten into two of them.” He made his fingers let go of the fork, one by one, realizing he was about to break it. “And I keep thinking weird stuff.”
“Weird stuff? Like what?”
“Like none of your business,” Peter broke in icily from the doorway. “My falling asleep does not mean you have permission to be in my house. As I seem to recall, you’re banned until further notice.”
Sally stuck her tongue out. “Banned, schmanned. If I don’t come over here, nothing gets done properly. Men are hopeless.”
“How many people do I have to kick out of my house before I get some peace and quiet?” Peter snapped. “I’ve already got Stacey to put up with, I don’t need you over here interfering!”
Sally stood up slowly, shaking out and arranging her electric blue skirt. Her face was calm, manner relaxed. If her husband had been present, he would have been running for dear life. “I realize you’re sleep deprived, Peter. And overwrought by recent events. Since we’re friends, I’ll take your apology for being unbearably rude as already given and accepted.” She smiled. “I also realize I know almost nothing about werewolves; everything I know I’ve learned from you and that’s not as much as I probably should. I know Low has only been here a few weeks.” She never stopped smiling. “But even I am capable of recognizing when a wolf is defending his territory and mate from a perceived threat. And you’re lucky I didn’t bring you any chocolate cake, because right now you’d be wearing it.” She walked sedately from the room, pausing only just long enough to give Peter a look and a swift kick to the shins. She blew a kiss over her shoulder at Lowell, who barely noticed.
He was too busy gauging if he’d fit through the window or if he’d just have to die of mortification in bed. Sally was insane. “Werewolves don’t act like real wolves,” he finally said. “They don’t do…all that stuff. Because of the human half.” He stared desperately at the sheets, half hoping Peter had wandered off again. Jeez, how was he supposed to face him now?
Territory? Mate? Mate? Lowell wondered how red a face could possibly get. ‘Werewolf Dies From Embarrassment: He Just Burst Into Flame!’
Peter sighed, sounding twice his age and far too tired. He stepped into the room and closed the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up, then folded his arms. “They don’t. Werewolves are popularly thought to be humans inflicted with a disease, ergo their primary behavioral patterns are human. Except, possibly…” he drifted off.
Lowell dared a look up and saw that Peter was frowning miserably at the floor. “Except what?” He badly wanted to look away when Peter looked up, but forced his head and eyes to remain up.
“Do you know anything about your parents, Low?”
“No…” Lowell said, puzzled. “I was raised in an orphanage until I was about twelve. After that I was deemed too dangerous. It was just assumed my parents either didn’t want me or were dead.”
“Probably dead,” Peter said kindly. He strode across the room and sat down on the bed. “Have you ever heard of a pure-bred werewolf?”
Lowell shrugged. “Sure. Who hasn’t? They’re the ones who first spread it to normal humans. But it’s kind of a dumb theory, because it still doesn’t explain why werewolves are what they are.”
“As an explanation for the origins of lycanthropy, yes, it is. Realistically, a purebred werewolf is someone whose lineage is made up entirely of werewolves. My family, for instance, is a mix of werewolf and human.”
“…You’re trying to tell me I’m purebred, aren’t you?” Lowell curled his legs up, bracing his arms and head on his knees. “What does that mean exactly?”
Peter sighed. “I don’t know, really. No one does. Werewolves are a hard species to study. But it’s been hypothesized before that purebreds are as much wolf as human, which means they probably have the behavioral patterns of both species.”
“But I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve always…just acted human.”
“It’s possible that you simply never noticed the behavior before. Or maybe there was never anything to bring it out before. Given how cruel Stacey was to you, I’m not surprised you get angry whenever you see him.”
Lowell nodded but said nothing. He was mad at Stacey for that, yeah. But it was because of Peter that he was livid enough he wanted to wring Stacey’s rotten throat. Mate. He shied away. The word was a strange one. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
“I…there’s something else you should know, Low.” Peter’s face was expressionless, but Low could see the misery that made his eyes dark. “About being purebred.”
And Low didn’t know what did it – maybe his voice. Or his dark eyes. Or maybe simply that he’d learned long ago how to tell when bad news was coming and just how bad it was going to be. But he knew it was bad, and after that everything lined up neatly into place. His voice was thin when he spoke. “I can’t be cured, can I?”
“No,” Peter replied. “It would be like trying to cure Sally of being a vampire. Or of Stacey of being a jerk.” The joke fell flat.
Lowell stared at his hands, white-knuckled from gripping the blankets. Purebred. He really was a freak. Not just a human with some horrible disease. One hundred percent freak. Unnatural. Abnormal. There was no chance he’d ever be anything else, even if someday other werewolves were cured. He looked up at Peter, not certain what he was going to say. Maybe shout. Or cry.
But Peter, who watched him quietly, looked more miserable than he did. And that hurt worse than being purebred, somehow. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat. “It’s okay,” he said instead. “It’s not like I really thought I’d ever be anything else. I-I-if I have to be a werewolf, at least I get to be a really good one, yeah?”
“Low?” Peter blinked, clearly surprised.
Lowell smiled, and realized it was easier to do than he’d thought it would be. “Really. It’s okay.” An idea seized him and he went with it before he could chicken out, leaning forward and embracing Peter. “It’s fine.”
Peter seemed almost to melt as his tension eased. He held Low tightly. “I’m glad.”
*~*~*~*
“So I see he finally let you out of bed,” Sally said as she strolled into the kitchen as though she owned it. Her lime green skirt and pink top reminded Lowell of the rainbow sherbet in the freezer. “Still under house arrest?”
“Yes,” Lowell groused. “I tried to go outside yesterday and he threatened to tie me to the bedposts.”
“Huh. Didn’t peg him as the kinky sort.” Sally helped herself to some iced tea.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then Lowell was choking on his leftover chicken salad. He gasped for breath as Sally took a seat and stole a few of his potato chips. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked when he could speak again.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. He still won’t let me inside—“
“He never lets you inside,” Lowell said with a grin.
“Yeah, but now he’s grouchy about it. So I have to wait until he’s not here. Where did he go, anyway?”
Lowell shrugged. “He had to go see a patient too sick to leave her bed.” He poked at his chicken salad. “He’s been coming and going a lot lately.” Ever since the last time he’d seen Sally. He hadn’t really wanted chocolate cake since then.
“Probably avoiding reality, the idiot.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I think you’ll have to make the first move.”
The chicken salad was becoming more and more fascinating. “I have no idea what you’re talking about....bloodsucker.”
Sally pulled his hair. “Don’t you start that!” She sipped her tea, leaned back and folded her arms. “Let me guess. You’re both just completely ignoring what I said the other day.”
“It’s silly!” Low said, and wished he could hide his burning cheeks.
“You’re silly, that’s for certain. Do you not like him, after all? I was certain you did. I know he likes you…”
Lowell shrugged. “I don’t know. And I’m sure I’m just a bothersome kid to him.” He frowned, thoughts turning unwillingly to Stacey. Who was tall and strong and fit, even if he was an asshole. Handsome, too. It was all to easy to picture how amazing he and Peter would have looked together. He’d probably just look lame.
It wasn’t the sort of thing he normally thought about. Yeah, he got lonely sometimes. Okay, all the time. But he’d always dreamed of having friends…other werewolves to get along with. But werewolves didn’t often stay together long; it was comforting to have someone to suffer with, but it was also depressing to be with someone as unhappy as you.
To be with Peter like Stacey obviously had been?
Mate
Seemed way too surreal. Just trying to think about it shut his mind down. He reached up to touch his cheek, which always seemed to burn when he thought about Peter. “He’s going to be mad at you for interfering,” he said finally, dropping his hand and going back to eating. He moved his plate away when Sally tried to steal more potato chips.
She pouted at being thwarted. “He likes being mad at me. And if I don’t interfere, he’s going to spend his entire life being unhappy. Ever since you showed up he’s been more like his old self. And if you hadn’t been here, I think he would’ve finally lost it with Stacey’s appearance. He barely came out of that asshole leaving – didn’t even have the courage to actually break up, just slunk away with his tail between his legs. And now he’s back, probably because he’s realized too late how good he had it here—“ She stopped, but continued to fume in silence for another minute or two. “Anyway. You’re good for him. And he’s good for you, I think. You’re…not so quiet when he’s around. And you smile more.”
“What?”
Sally used his state of confusion to swipe a few more chips. “You heard me. And now I’m going before he comes back and I’m banished for an entire year instead of just a month.” She stood up. “Hey! Would you like to come watch movies with us? We were going to make popcorn and just lounge around all day. Surely that won’t get you into trouble with the mother hen.”
Lowell thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He stood up slowly and followed her out of the kitchen. As the screen door slammed shut behind them, a dark car pulled into the driveway.
“Who the hell…” Sally muttered with a frown. It was cloudy enough that even she couldn’t see well enough to make out who was in the car.
“Patient?” Lowell guessed, but that wasn’t a convincing guess even to him. Peter’s patients didn’t drive cars like that, if they bothered to drive at all.
A tall, slender man climbed out. The light from the kitchen was just enough to show his features.
“Oh my god…” Sally said softly.
“What?” Lowell asked, frowning as the man approached. But he didn’t need Sally to tell him the man’s identity. The family resemblance was more than enough.
“Is Pete here?” the man asked.
If he’d been in wolf form, his hackles would’ve been up. Stacey was still number one on his list, but this man had just become number one part b. “No. And you can leave.”
The man just raised one brow. “And just who are you to be ordering me around?” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re just a pup.”
“I wouldn’t call him that, Connor.” Sally interrupted. “I’ve seen him take down a wolf with more experience than you, and if you’re here to see Petey antagonizing his boyfriend isn’t going to improve your chances.”
Lowell would have protested, but Sally’s nails digging into his arm was a pretty clear message.
“Huh. Didn’t know Pete had a thing for kids.”
“I’m not a kid,” Lowell said, hoping the dark hid his red cheeks. “And I really think you should leave.” He wondered suddenly if Sally was holding on to him in warning or to keep him in place.
“I don’t take orders from a pup, especially one that sleeps with my brother. Where’s Pete?”
Headlights hit them as Peter’s car pulled up into the drive. He climbed out slowly, and even in the dark Lowell could see he was upset. Sally let him go and he ran down the drive to where Peter stood by his car, ignoring the pain flaring up in his leg. What made him do it, he didn’t know. ‘Doctor Sues Pup For Sexual Harassment.’ All but throwing himself at Peter, Lowell reached up and kissed him quickly, clumsily, on the mouth.
“Low…” Peter caught him around the waist reflexively. “What? Why?”
“Because,” was the best Lowell could manage.
“Pete.”
“Connor,” Peter said. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
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Date: 2005-11-01 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 01:21 am (UTC)YOU WROTE VAL!!! So all is well.
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Date: 2005-11-01 01:23 am (UTC)And by the by, I don't quite think I expressed this enough but I liked this part a lot. Sally cracks me up, Low is just sweet, Peter needs a fucking hug--upon which you actually delivered for once!--and Stacy needs to get gone (and I've a feeling so does Connor). So fun times all around. ^_^
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Date: 2005-11-01 01:54 am (UTC)I say so!
^__^ Yay!
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Date: 2005-11-01 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 02:16 am (UTC)*holds out bowl* Please, may I have some more?
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Date: 2005-11-01 03:26 am (UTC)You have no idea how happy coming home and reading this made me. It's great! I did find a couple of places where you switched Peter and Lowell, but I'm too tired to be coherent at this point and find them again.
Thank you.
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Date: 2005-11-01 04:45 am (UTC)*loves you terribly*
...beat Stacey into oblivious while Peter wasn’t around... I think oblivion might work better.
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Date: 2005-11-01 05:52 am (UTC)after searching far and wide, I finally located the full part one sometime in January or February.
O.o... *luffles Lowell* My that boy is cute. *pinches his cheeks*
...
*runs away*
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Date: 2005-11-01 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 06:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 12:12 pm (UTC)p.s. I stalk you for your original fics. Love! ^^
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Date: 2005-11-01 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-01 12:29 pm (UTC)and you're wonderful *__*
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Date: 2005-11-01 12:39 pm (UTC)^_^ Hello, Stalker!
http://www.livejournal.com/users/maderr/256068.html
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Date: 2005-11-01 12:40 pm (UTC)I know ^_^ *loves* I'll write it come December, though.
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Date: 2005-11-01 12:40 pm (UTC)Heh. You can't beat people into oblivious? Thanks for pointing it out!
*loves and adores*
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Date: 2005-11-01 12:50 pm (UTC)*huuuuugs* *prepares squee-equipment*
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Date: 2005-11-01 06:55 pm (UTC)But cliffhanger!!! Ack!!!
I really liked Lowell's reactions in this part, and his mental headlines. Poor Peter, he's just not having a good time - First he realizes that a cure won't work on Lowell, then Stacey shows up, and now Connor!
I hate Stacey. I'm hoping he falls off a cliff and gets and stays very dead by the end. *grin* I greatly enjoyed Lowell's reaction to him, though.
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Date: 2005-11-01 08:52 pm (UTC)youJordanAlpha!Lowell.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Date: 2005-11-01 10:59 pm (UTC)Seriously, you have no idea how much I love and adore this story. *purrs* And this chapter? Holy crap. *_______________* Poor Lowell. He's so confused, and everyone else seems to know what's going on with him and his head except for him. It makes sense, but I can see how it would frustrate him. ;3 I also love the way you can manage to make him slightly insecure, protective and possessive all at once.
The way he is with Peter? *HEARTS* I was sitting in my chair bouncing the entire time I read this.
And Stacey? *kicks him off a bridge* How much do I love that Lowell beat him up? ^_____________________________________^
I also loved the bits about Lowell being a purebred and the scene where Peter tries to tell him that there will never be a cure for him and Lowell interrupts to say it out loud for him instead? ;__________________; I love you. I adore you. That seen is gold. *hearts madly*
Also, Connor's back? O_____________O He better be nice to
myLowell and Peter!!!!!! Or I'll kick him. >E Heehee ^_^*much loves for you*
Re: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Date: 2005-11-01 11:07 pm (UTC)Wow. I have bloodthirsty readers. I'm not sure which one of you hates Stacey most, hehehe.
And I'm glad you enjoy it so much. I seem to recall it was an effort to cheer you up that spawned this story, so it's 100% yours ^_^
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Date: 2006-09-29 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 12:49 am (UTC)Hee. I'm sorry you found me by way of an unfinished story, but by all means you are most welcome to come and play ^__^
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Date: 2006-10-11 11:07 am (UTC)Oh, and can you upload this version of this chapter to your website? I read the story over there first, and only recently found this one with the part with Stacey and the whole "mate" talk.
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Date: 2007-11-17 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-17 05:06 pm (UTC)