Underneath My Skin

[madimpossibledreamer]

Xander’s going by “Ryan”--mom’s last name. She’s irish-american.
I mentioned this...in an idle thought or something, but so it's here: Tony Harris was a good dad, once.  Then he got in an accident on the construction site.  The pain meds were cut off after a certain amount of time to try to prevent addiction, but he was still in pain, Sunnydale services being what they are, so he turned to alcohol as an alternative painkiller.  Basically, medical discrimination (and it's not an addiction, per se, it's just not wanting chronic pain), yay.

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Assassin's Creed (Beginning's End)
Summary: Shaun in wolf form goes snooping, although it's kind of hard when his brain hasn't quite adjusted.
Word Count: 1608
Rating: Teen
pre-Shaun/Xander

 

         It’s...difficult. Thinking. There are concepts, words, just out of reach but that don’t quite make sense.
         Pets. Those are good. And they wouldn’t let him run around like this, if not for the whole ‘fuzzy and cute’ thing. He could absolutely rip their throats out, not that he will. But they’re not scared of him. Watchful, maybe, but...he would be, too, and they’re letting their guard down.
         He’s redder than a red wolf would be. At least, he suspects so. Which makes them mistake him for a dog. Involuntarily, a low growl rips from his throat, being mistaken for just some mutt, but it’s useful, because they’re letting him roam. Not like Rebecca. Who will tease him endlessly, but gives the best pets. Especially right behind his ears.
         And then one of his ears turn. “—Desmond!” Xander’s voice, hushed but involuntarily raising despite himself, and he shouldn’t know that name.
         He pads out, silently. It sounds like Xander’s on one of the porches of their little cabins—they’re probably somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, although how they’d gotten there is...confusing. And, yes, there he is, mid-gesture. Upset.
         He’d smelled familiar. Shaun is smug about the observation. It’s a slightly strange observation for reasons he can’t imagine at the moment, but he will always feel pride in being right. But what that meant, he won’t know unless he spies a little. He settles in a little under the porch. He won’t know what all the words mean, but he can memorize them for later, when he’ll somehow know.
         “You can’t just abandon him, though.” A woman’s voice, faint but barely audible to his wolf-ears. He suppresses a possessive growl at that.
         Xander sighs. He sounds miserable. “No. Gotta be yet another species, though; he’s gone full wolf and I swear he’s more intelligent than your average transformed were. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me, though, not with actually getting a glimpse of the mercs—they weren’t normal either.”
         “It’s going to be another few days until I can come riding to the rescue, and we still haven’t gotten ahold of Oz. But they’ll take away my best friend license if I don’t at least attempt something over the phone, Alexander Lavelle Ryan, so spill.” She’s like Rebecca. Not a rival-threat. Good.
         “I don’t want to bother you while you’re busy…” he states, and Shaun suppresses a whine, because he doesn’t want the attractive potential-mate to be unhappy.
         “Best friend privileges. This isn’t exactly a confessional, but same rules apply.” Good. He needs help taking care of himself.
         And it does actually make Xander laugh. Which is nice. “Don’t remind me of the whole ‘Catholic guilt’ thing; I’m trying to repress!” It doesn’t last for long, though. Shaun’s ears lay flat seemingly on their own. “...I stick around too long, and they’re gonna work out the whole ‘Desmond’ thing. Which, pretty sure I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating—Janus is a dick.” ...Isu? Hmm. Trying to piece this together is hard.
         “So you want to just run away. You know that won’t work, right? They’re Assassins; tracking people down is kind of what they do. And running away is just going to make them want to chase you.” And a voice of reason, too. Acceptable.
         Another suffering sigh. “Yeah. No. I know. Maybe if I’d managed to lose them before the graveyard, but yeah, at this point they’ll follow me into a Hell Dimension, somehow. And I kind of didn’t want to, you know?”
         “I get it.” His friend is nodding on the other end of the line, sounding innocent and casual, which is just how they get you. “I mean, he is your type.”
         Shaun’s head shoots up, eyes wide. Yes, please, do say more. Even if he understands more of the tone and those lovely pheromones wafting off Xander than any specific words.
         “Willow!” Potential-mate sounds mortified.
         She’s definitely teasing as she continues. “Well, from what you’ve said, anyway. Sarcastic, super intelligent, can walk all over you—although if that’s actually a kink, no judging, you do seem to be into the tsundere type...”
         “Will. Please. I am begging you. Stop.” From the way Xander moves, he’s attempting to have the boards swallow him whole. Which would expose Shaun’s position, so hopefully it doesn’t happen.
         “And there’s the whole British librarian thing, which, also not judging; you know about my whole Giles-crush thing,” she continues, and he groans.
         “Yes. I do. And I’m trying to repress that, too.” He sighs. “I’m still cursed when it comes to relationships. I just...it was fine and cute when it was just flirting but I just...I don’t want him to just be interested in me because of my similarity to a dead guy and I’ve caused enough disappointment for one lifetime, let alone two—”
         A quickly silenced whine accompanies that, because, seriously, give him more credit than that. He’d known Xander wasn’t Desmond. More than anything he’d just wanted to understand; it’s what he’s good at, hunting down clues. Even if he can’t make sense of them at the moment. “Xander. From what you’ve said, he likes intelligence, too. How many languages do you know?”
         That was apparently a good point, because potential-mate starts stammering. “Um. I.” From the sound of things, he might even be blushing, which Shaun wants to see, but he doesn’t want to show he’s been listening, either.
         “How many?” she pushes.
         “...Four or five somewhat fluently, more if I’m reading,” he admits, and Shaun tries to concentrate. That’s impressive, he knows, but the exact—it’s out of paw’s reach.
         “And from what you’ve said about the Animus, you think Shaun and Rebecca don’t know that a man is more than his memories?” She sounds patient. He’s done this before, apparently.
         “Well…” He is absolutely worthy as a mate. He shouldn’t question that.
         She’s not giving up, either. “And you think Shaun wouldn’t be interested in a sexy one-eyed Hispanic goofball with a big heart and a sense of humor and the ability to fight?”
         Fidgeting, going by the boards creaking. “I...I don’t think I’d use such glowing terms.”
         “And one that wouldn’t freak out that, oh, yeah, he’s a werewolf now? Come on, what would your abuela say?”
         An inhale, and then, quiet, “...that I should give him a chance. That I deserve to be happy.”
         “And you’re not listening to your dad on this, right?”
         That seems...slightly, unhappily familiar, for some reason.
         “...No, I know better. That was pain and alcohol talking, not papa.” He doesn’t sound fully convinced.
         “Xander.”
         “It’s...not entirely on me, and we’ve got to deal with the whole werewolf situation first, but yeah, I can try.” There’s a sound, and they both stop talking. He moves to the edge, putting his arms at the railing and looking out, within sight of where Shaun can see.
         “It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know,” he announces, glancing in Shaun’s direction. He doesn’t look away and seems patient but disappointed, so eventually Shaun slinks out, tail tucked firmly between his legs, ears lowered.
         “Aww, come on, that puppy dog face is just unfair coming from you when you’re like that,” he complains, contemplating for a moment and then heading to the stairs. Shaun follows, slowly, whining a little in his throat until Xander pats the stairs behind him and looks patient and gentle and expectant. “Yes, I knew you were there the whole time, so it wasn’t just you, okay? I let it happen. I guess that makes this a consensual rude eavesdrop.” He reaches out the second Shaun’s within reach and lets him just smell, which...hmm. Alcohol? That explains where he’s going when he’s not here, even if Shaun only gets vague images from the recollection. He suppresses the urge to growl again. Potential-mate shouldn’t be putting himself in danger when he’s hurt and still smells a little of blood through the bandages. “Eagle Vision. You probably know how that goes. I really, really didn’t want to have this conversation, but you were here and listening so I figured I’d keep talking and see how it goes. It did make it a little easier, but...you are understanding what I’m saying, right?”
         Shaun tilts his head on its side, thinking.
         “Just nod if you’re getting literally any of this.”
         After a moment, reluctantly, Shaun nods.
         “I figured. But you’re not getting all of it, are you?” He has difficulties following the question, but eventually decides that’s another nod, and this time potential-mate reaches out to scratch under his chin, and oh that’s good. Chuckles. “Yeah, that’s pretty normal, though it’s pretty rare to have the control you do have. We’re thinking it’s a species thing, though it could just be that you’re a stubborn git.” Shaun wags his tail at this. He’s not sure what that means, exactly, but he’s proud of it anyway. That makes Xander laugh and shake his head, and he should look like this more often. And then he scratches even better and it’s hitting a spot just right, and this is probably some kind of heaven.
         “I’m going to tell Rebecca, too, I guess. I really should, given that she’s currently the bipedal one between the two of you. But—uh, and this sounds really, really ridiculous—could I ask you to accompany me for moral support?”
         Shaun barks and wags his tail and nuzzles in with his nose and then his entire body, and this time he gets to see the blush dust across that slightly darker skin. He doesn’t know what it means, exactly, but it is good and therefore needs to happen more often, too.