Fic: Howl (2/?)
Title: Howl (2/?)
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,213
Summary: Bret had always wanted a pet, but this was never how he had envisioned it.
Warnings: Bit of a horror fic, so mentions of blood and what have you, but pretty tame overall.
Disclaimer: Don't own FOTC or anything fun.
Author’s Note: Thanks for all the lovely feedback!
Bret looked in the cabinets and found the biggest bowl they had. He filled it with water, then set it on the floor.
Jemaine...
The Werewolf...
Jemaine the Werewolf, quickly bent his head and took big gulps. Bret stood there, watching him...it...him drink.
Jemaine...
Bret shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. It was pretty impossible. In fact, he had pretty much given up on trying to think too much about it and just moved straight on to accepting it.
Jemaine was a werewolf.
He was a werewolf and he was currently down on all fours on the kitchen tile drinking water out of a bowl. Bret sat down on the floor near him, just watching him in amazement.
Bret picked absently at the bottom hem of his jeans, chewing his lips in thought, at last he spoke, "Jemaine..."
The werewolf did not respond past perking his ears, mind still too focused on his drink. Bret continued, "Jemaine...I can't-can't call you 'Jemaine' when you look like this... bit too weird."
Jemaine finally withdrew his head from the water bowl, essentially licking his chops before looking at Bret, golden eyes sparkling with some sort of innate intelligence. Bret felt encouraged by this - it seemed less strange to talk aloud without a response as long as the listener seemed somewhat comprehensive.
"Mean...you're not, you know, Jemaine right now. You're not...people shaped. Your wolf shaped. Or, well, more or less. Still...doesn't seem right..."
Jemaine made a strange noise in his throat, tail thumping impatiently on the floor. Bret reached out a hand and once more Jemaine bent his head to it, eager for attention. Bret stroked his fur, scratching under one side of his chin and Jemaine's leg reacted comically. Bret chuckled,"Yeah...your definitely not Jemaine right now. Totally different..."
Jemaine made a snuffling noise. Bret sighed, eyes casting about, "But...what should I call you?"
Jemaine didn't offer any suggestions, instead deserting Bret so he could roam about the apartment. He sniffed at everything as if it was new and it occurred to Bret that, besides water, his best mate might like a bite to eat.
After all, Bret had been lucky thus far. Jemaine didn't seem hungry - but when he got hungry, well, so far Bret hadn't been bitten or, worse, eaten and he would like to keep it that way.
Bret found some raw hamburger in the fridge and, thinking it the perfect meal, he found a plate to lay it out on. The moment he set it on the floor next to the water bowl Jemaine was ravenous. He zoomed in on the fresh meat, gobbling it up noisily.
Bret just shook his head, "Man, may as well be a werepig..."
Jemaine was too busy eating to offer anything.
Bret looked his friend over thoroughly. So strange. His build was still broad but past that and the now telltale scar, there was almost nothing else that could mark this creature as Jemaine. After all, he had a tail! And fangs! And fur...man...all that fur...
Thankfully it covered up anything that could be, well, embarrassing, but there sure was an awful lot of it. All dark and curly, bit matted, Bret ran a hand over it and his fingers almost got stuck in a snarl.
"Man, Jemaine...you need a good brush...you're down right mangy."
A light bulb almost lit over Bret's head. Jemaine. Mangy. Bret chuckled and snapped his fingers, pointing at his friend, "I'm going to call you, Mangy! You know...when you're like this...make things a bit easier, you know?"
Mangy had finished off his food and now looked at Bret expectantly. Bret cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, "So...what now?"
Mangy wagged his tail.
Bret looked around the apartment, then, finding a tennis ball, picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand, "You...want to go out?"
Mangy let out that strange bark.
Shrugging, Bret put on his shoes and socks, then pulled on his coat. He double checked to make sure he had his keys, then patted one leg, "Right, well...come on, then."
Mangy obediently followed.
--
Bret was surprised by how much fun it was to play 'fetch'.
He had seen dog owners in the park before playing with their dogs. Tossing Frisbees and sticks and what-have-you only to have their faithful pet retrieve the item and bring it back, eager for another round.
Bret had always been envious, but had managed to put it aside with the belief that such games must get old fast. But now, as he tossed the ball out for Mangy again and again he found it not to be as dreadfully repetitive as he had feared.
In fact, he found himself feeling almost light with happiness.
Mangy was such a good...okay, well, he wasn't really a dog.
He wasn't even a wolf.
Still...
He was close enough.
The ball proved to be a pretty poor toy however, as it had all ready been torn to shreds. Bret ended up basically tossing a tangled, destroyed heap of a thing out into the distance again and again.
But Mangy seemed pleased enough with what he had, proudly returning the mess to Bret over and over. Still, Bret resolved to get something better tomorrow.
A tomorrow which was rapidly approaching.
Bret had quite lost track of time, but now he noticed that the sky had faded from a dark black to a modest twilight blue. He stretched and yawned, noting that he was getting quite sleepy.
Mangy too, seemed much more subdued, and, as he approached Bret with the tattered mess one last time, he sat back on his hanuches, panting.
Bret scratched behind one of Mangy's ears, chuckling as the creature's leg went about jiggling again, "You ready to go to bed, boy? Think its' time we went home."
Mangy let out what Bret thought to be an agreeable bark.
The duo went home.
--
"...mnfgh...," Jemaine managed as he tossed and turned on his bed, he twisted this way and that, then sat up, scowling, "...mmm...head...god..."
Bret was sound asleep on his side of the room.
Jemaine licked his lips and looked down, eyes narrowing. He was naked. Under his comforter. Stark naked. He drew the material close and cleared his throat. Bret replied with a sleepy snort. Jemaine tried again, then, gingerly, "Umm...hey. Bret?"
"...hmm?"
"Bret?"
"Hrm!" Bret grunted, obviously showing he was awake, but not by much.
"Bret...why'm I naked?"
"...came home tha' way..." Bret offered weakly, half asleep and now, as he woke more, self conscious.
"...I came home naked?"
"You 'member last night?" Bret asked softly, "Uh...at all?"
Jemaine ran a hand through his hair, "Actually...ah...no."
Bret was waking more and more, heart picking up pace.
Then Jemaine laughed, "Man...I must have been pretty drunk."
Bret relaxed immediately his earlier drowsiness returning, "Oh, yeah, mate. Totally wasted."
"Wonder if I, no," Jemaine breathed in deeply, chest puffing out, "Bet I was...you know, with a beautiful lady. Yeah. Probably made her night. Then she was all, 'no, Jemaine, you sexy beast, don't put your clothes back on', so, you know, I didn't."
Bret said nothing.
"Yeah. So. Must have been what happened...then...you know...came back here...still without my clothes on, uh, I mean, I guess...Bret, do you know what happened last night?"
Bret couldn't answer, he had all ready fallen back to sleep.
Jemaine just shrugged it off and lay back down, prepared to go back to sleep himself, smirking as he thought about the beautiful lady he must have been with.
And yet...
As he rolled to his side and closed his eyes he couldn't help thinking about running and the park and...tennis balls?
--
Once they were officially up and about their day, Jemaine quickly grew annoyed to discover his glasses were missing.
"Can't think of where they might be...maybe on that woman's nightstand...wish I could remember her name...or what she looked like..."
"What bar did you go to last night?"
"The 169 Bar."
"Ah! Right! 'Course! They said it on the news!'
"The what?"
Bret quickly scrambled for cover, "Nothing! Nothing! Look, um, how about I go there? Make some inquires. Maybe someone found 'em there..."
Jemaine shrugged, then nodded, "Yeah, okay, right, thanks, mate."
Bret left quickly, wanting to get some distance between Jemaine and himself, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of last night.
He arrived at the bar only to swallow thickly, stomach filling with butterflies at the sight. Broken glass littered the streets and police cars were parked outside. Bret slowly eased forward, looking worriedly at the yellow emergency tape. A large man, probably a bouncer, stood out front and held up a hand, "Whoa there, little fella, we ain't open."
"Ah, no, no, I-I know...can...sorta tell but, um, my friend was here last night-"
"Lots of people's friends were here last night. You curious about what happened here, you ask him."
"No, um, really, see, he left his glasses-"
"Lots of people's friends left their crap here. Everybody running out an' all the moment that...thing showed up."
Bret just nodded. The bouncer looked from side to side then, leaning close, said conspiratorially, "Look, you seem like a nice little dude...I'll pop in, see if I can't check it out...your friend tell you where he mighta left 'em?"
Bret shook his head.
The bouncer scowled, but, shrugging, ducked inside. Bret stood outside, shivering, even though it was actually quite warm today. The bouncer came back almost as quick as he went in, "Got my girl Shelly lookin'. She'll probably be out in a minute. Can't go too far...gotta guard the front."
Bret just nodded.
The bouncer continued with little motivation, "Worked past my normal shift, man, keeping reporters and shit at bay. Normally work the bar with Shel, but last night, shit..."
"Oh! Um...thought you were a bouncer..."
The man threw back his head and laughed, "Ah, naw, man. Just make the drinks. We ain't got no bouncer...thanks for the compliment though, I have been working out..."
Bret gave him a weak smile.
"We can't afford a bouncer here, might have to now though, what with things like that running up in here. I don't know what your friend told you, but I saw that thing, and let me tell you, it sure as hell wasn't no dog. Dogs don't bite chairs in half."
Bret's eyes widened.
"...no, mean, I tell you, I've seen some crazy shit in my time, but that thing?" he shook his head, "Tore the place apart...'s a real mess in there...we'll probably be closed for weeks."
He leaned close to Bret, voice low, "And brother? I was scared. Me. And I ain't never been scared. Not like that. I'm talking blood to bone ice in me...when it howled? And trust me, I know a thing or two, and that shit howled like a motherfucker. Thought for sure it was gonna bite someone in half...damn near did a couple of times, those jaws snapping...."
A woman burst out from one of the doors and Bret squeaked, pressing a hand to his heart. The woman was popping gum noisily, holding out a plastic bag, "Hey Mikey, found what'ja was lookin' for..."
"Thanks, Shel, you my girl!"
Shelly looked Bret up and down, "Hey, skinny, say somethin'!"
"...hi."
Shelly nodded, "Yeah, you's was right, Mikey, got the same fucked up voice as that other guy last night. Your friend, right? You's all Australian?"
"...New Zealand."
"Ain't never heard'a it..."
Bret didn't know how to respond. He didn't have to, as Shelly, much like Mikey, seemed motivated to talk regardless, "Anyway, your friend last night...big guy, glasses, Angelina-Jolie-lips?"
He nodded.
"Oh, yeah," she grinned, "He was kinda cute in a awkward way. Though he sure was sweatin' it towards the middle of the night. Gave him a few beers, coupla encouraging smiles...you could tell the kid was a dud with women, ya know? Felt kinda bad, wanted to give him a little 'oomph', anyway, got up, complainin' 'bout the heat. Disappearing into the bathroom, 's where I found this stuff, glasses, clothes...maybe my encouragement helped a bit after all, huh? He walkin' 'round naked 'n all..."
"...yeah...he came home that way."
Shelly and Mikey both laughed and Bret squirmed, uncomfortable, as he reached for the bag, eager to leave. Shelly handed it to him easily enough, then, looking at Mikey, muttered, "Joe's still gabbin' with the police. No idea when we'll get outta here."
Mikey shrugged, "Don't see what the hold up is. That thing didn't eat nobody."
"Came close though."
"Run tell dat, girl! Just was mentioning it to the lil' guy, ain't that right?" Mikey turned to get Bret's conformation, but Bret was long gone, having snuck away the moment he got the bag in hand.
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,213
Summary: Bret had always wanted a pet, but this was never how he had envisioned it.
Warnings: Bit of a horror fic, so mentions of blood and what have you, but pretty tame overall.
Disclaimer: Don't own FOTC or anything fun.
Author’s Note: Thanks for all the lovely feedback!
Bret looked in the cabinets and found the biggest bowl they had. He filled it with water, then set it on the floor.
Jemaine...
The Werewolf...
Jemaine the Werewolf, quickly bent his head and took big gulps. Bret stood there, watching him...it...him drink.
Jemaine...
Bret shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. It was pretty impossible. In fact, he had pretty much given up on trying to think too much about it and just moved straight on to accepting it.
Jemaine was a werewolf.
He was a werewolf and he was currently down on all fours on the kitchen tile drinking water out of a bowl. Bret sat down on the floor near him, just watching him in amazement.
Bret picked absently at the bottom hem of his jeans, chewing his lips in thought, at last he spoke, "Jemaine..."
The werewolf did not respond past perking his ears, mind still too focused on his drink. Bret continued, "Jemaine...I can't-can't call you 'Jemaine' when you look like this... bit too weird."
Jemaine finally withdrew his head from the water bowl, essentially licking his chops before looking at Bret, golden eyes sparkling with some sort of innate intelligence. Bret felt encouraged by this - it seemed less strange to talk aloud without a response as long as the listener seemed somewhat comprehensive.
"Mean...you're not, you know, Jemaine right now. You're not...people shaped. Your wolf shaped. Or, well, more or less. Still...doesn't seem right..."
Jemaine made a strange noise in his throat, tail thumping impatiently on the floor. Bret reached out a hand and once more Jemaine bent his head to it, eager for attention. Bret stroked his fur, scratching under one side of his chin and Jemaine's leg reacted comically. Bret chuckled,"Yeah...your definitely not Jemaine right now. Totally different..."
Jemaine made a snuffling noise. Bret sighed, eyes casting about, "But...what should I call you?"
Jemaine didn't offer any suggestions, instead deserting Bret so he could roam about the apartment. He sniffed at everything as if it was new and it occurred to Bret that, besides water, his best mate might like a bite to eat.
After all, Bret had been lucky thus far. Jemaine didn't seem hungry - but when he got hungry, well, so far Bret hadn't been bitten or, worse, eaten and he would like to keep it that way.
Bret found some raw hamburger in the fridge and, thinking it the perfect meal, he found a plate to lay it out on. The moment he set it on the floor next to the water bowl Jemaine was ravenous. He zoomed in on the fresh meat, gobbling it up noisily.
Bret just shook his head, "Man, may as well be a werepig..."
Jemaine was too busy eating to offer anything.
Bret looked his friend over thoroughly. So strange. His build was still broad but past that and the now telltale scar, there was almost nothing else that could mark this creature as Jemaine. After all, he had a tail! And fangs! And fur...man...all that fur...
Thankfully it covered up anything that could be, well, embarrassing, but there sure was an awful lot of it. All dark and curly, bit matted, Bret ran a hand over it and his fingers almost got stuck in a snarl.
"Man, Jemaine...you need a good brush...you're down right mangy."
A light bulb almost lit over Bret's head. Jemaine. Mangy. Bret chuckled and snapped his fingers, pointing at his friend, "I'm going to call you, Mangy! You know...when you're like this...make things a bit easier, you know?"
Mangy had finished off his food and now looked at Bret expectantly. Bret cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, "So...what now?"
Mangy wagged his tail.
Bret looked around the apartment, then, finding a tennis ball, picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand, "You...want to go out?"
Mangy let out that strange bark.
Shrugging, Bret put on his shoes and socks, then pulled on his coat. He double checked to make sure he had his keys, then patted one leg, "Right, well...come on, then."
Mangy obediently followed.
--
Bret was surprised by how much fun it was to play 'fetch'.
He had seen dog owners in the park before playing with their dogs. Tossing Frisbees and sticks and what-have-you only to have their faithful pet retrieve the item and bring it back, eager for another round.
Bret had always been envious, but had managed to put it aside with the belief that such games must get old fast. But now, as he tossed the ball out for Mangy again and again he found it not to be as dreadfully repetitive as he had feared.
In fact, he found himself feeling almost light with happiness.
Mangy was such a good...okay, well, he wasn't really a dog.
He wasn't even a wolf.
Still...
He was close enough.
The ball proved to be a pretty poor toy however, as it had all ready been torn to shreds. Bret ended up basically tossing a tangled, destroyed heap of a thing out into the distance again and again.
But Mangy seemed pleased enough with what he had, proudly returning the mess to Bret over and over. Still, Bret resolved to get something better tomorrow.
A tomorrow which was rapidly approaching.
Bret had quite lost track of time, but now he noticed that the sky had faded from a dark black to a modest twilight blue. He stretched and yawned, noting that he was getting quite sleepy.
Mangy too, seemed much more subdued, and, as he approached Bret with the tattered mess one last time, he sat back on his hanuches, panting.
Bret scratched behind one of Mangy's ears, chuckling as the creature's leg went about jiggling again, "You ready to go to bed, boy? Think its' time we went home."
Mangy let out what Bret thought to be an agreeable bark.
The duo went home.
--
"...mnfgh...," Jemaine managed as he tossed and turned on his bed, he twisted this way and that, then sat up, scowling, "...mmm...head...god..."
Bret was sound asleep on his side of the room.
Jemaine licked his lips and looked down, eyes narrowing. He was naked. Under his comforter. Stark naked. He drew the material close and cleared his throat. Bret replied with a sleepy snort. Jemaine tried again, then, gingerly, "Umm...hey. Bret?"
"...hmm?"
"Bret?"
"Hrm!" Bret grunted, obviously showing he was awake, but not by much.
"Bret...why'm I naked?"
"...came home tha' way..." Bret offered weakly, half asleep and now, as he woke more, self conscious.
"...I came home naked?"
"You 'member last night?" Bret asked softly, "Uh...at all?"
Jemaine ran a hand through his hair, "Actually...ah...no."
Bret was waking more and more, heart picking up pace.
Then Jemaine laughed, "Man...I must have been pretty drunk."
Bret relaxed immediately his earlier drowsiness returning, "Oh, yeah, mate. Totally wasted."
"Wonder if I, no," Jemaine breathed in deeply, chest puffing out, "Bet I was...you know, with a beautiful lady. Yeah. Probably made her night. Then she was all, 'no, Jemaine, you sexy beast, don't put your clothes back on', so, you know, I didn't."
Bret said nothing.
"Yeah. So. Must have been what happened...then...you know...came back here...still without my clothes on, uh, I mean, I guess...Bret, do you know what happened last night?"
Bret couldn't answer, he had all ready fallen back to sleep.
Jemaine just shrugged it off and lay back down, prepared to go back to sleep himself, smirking as he thought about the beautiful lady he must have been with.
And yet...
As he rolled to his side and closed his eyes he couldn't help thinking about running and the park and...tennis balls?
--
Once they were officially up and about their day, Jemaine quickly grew annoyed to discover his glasses were missing.
"Can't think of where they might be...maybe on that woman's nightstand...wish I could remember her name...or what she looked like..."
"What bar did you go to last night?"
"The 169 Bar."
"Ah! Right! 'Course! They said it on the news!'
"The what?"
Bret quickly scrambled for cover, "Nothing! Nothing! Look, um, how about I go there? Make some inquires. Maybe someone found 'em there..."
Jemaine shrugged, then nodded, "Yeah, okay, right, thanks, mate."
Bret left quickly, wanting to get some distance between Jemaine and himself, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of last night.
He arrived at the bar only to swallow thickly, stomach filling with butterflies at the sight. Broken glass littered the streets and police cars were parked outside. Bret slowly eased forward, looking worriedly at the yellow emergency tape. A large man, probably a bouncer, stood out front and held up a hand, "Whoa there, little fella, we ain't open."
"Ah, no, no, I-I know...can...sorta tell but, um, my friend was here last night-"
"Lots of people's friends were here last night. You curious about what happened here, you ask him."
"No, um, really, see, he left his glasses-"
"Lots of people's friends left their crap here. Everybody running out an' all the moment that...thing showed up."
Bret just nodded. The bouncer looked from side to side then, leaning close, said conspiratorially, "Look, you seem like a nice little dude...I'll pop in, see if I can't check it out...your friend tell you where he mighta left 'em?"
Bret shook his head.
The bouncer scowled, but, shrugging, ducked inside. Bret stood outside, shivering, even though it was actually quite warm today. The bouncer came back almost as quick as he went in, "Got my girl Shelly lookin'. She'll probably be out in a minute. Can't go too far...gotta guard the front."
Bret just nodded.
The bouncer continued with little motivation, "Worked past my normal shift, man, keeping reporters and shit at bay. Normally work the bar with Shel, but last night, shit..."
"Oh! Um...thought you were a bouncer..."
The man threw back his head and laughed, "Ah, naw, man. Just make the drinks. We ain't got no bouncer...thanks for the compliment though, I have been working out..."
Bret gave him a weak smile.
"We can't afford a bouncer here, might have to now though, what with things like that running up in here. I don't know what your friend told you, but I saw that thing, and let me tell you, it sure as hell wasn't no dog. Dogs don't bite chairs in half."
Bret's eyes widened.
"...no, mean, I tell you, I've seen some crazy shit in my time, but that thing?" he shook his head, "Tore the place apart...'s a real mess in there...we'll probably be closed for weeks."
He leaned close to Bret, voice low, "And brother? I was scared. Me. And I ain't never been scared. Not like that. I'm talking blood to bone ice in me...when it howled? And trust me, I know a thing or two, and that shit howled like a motherfucker. Thought for sure it was gonna bite someone in half...damn near did a couple of times, those jaws snapping...."
A woman burst out from one of the doors and Bret squeaked, pressing a hand to his heart. The woman was popping gum noisily, holding out a plastic bag, "Hey Mikey, found what'ja was lookin' for..."
"Thanks, Shel, you my girl!"
Shelly looked Bret up and down, "Hey, skinny, say somethin'!"
"...hi."
Shelly nodded, "Yeah, you's was right, Mikey, got the same fucked up voice as that other guy last night. Your friend, right? You's all Australian?"
"...New Zealand."
"Ain't never heard'a it..."
Bret didn't know how to respond. He didn't have to, as Shelly, much like Mikey, seemed motivated to talk regardless, "Anyway, your friend last night...big guy, glasses, Angelina-Jolie-lips?"
He nodded.
"Oh, yeah," she grinned, "He was kinda cute in a awkward way. Though he sure was sweatin' it towards the middle of the night. Gave him a few beers, coupla encouraging smiles...you could tell the kid was a dud with women, ya know? Felt kinda bad, wanted to give him a little 'oomph', anyway, got up, complainin' 'bout the heat. Disappearing into the bathroom, 's where I found this stuff, glasses, clothes...maybe my encouragement helped a bit after all, huh? He walkin' 'round naked 'n all..."
"...yeah...he came home that way."
Shelly and Mikey both laughed and Bret squirmed, uncomfortable, as he reached for the bag, eager to leave. Shelly handed it to him easily enough, then, looking at Mikey, muttered, "Joe's still gabbin' with the police. No idea when we'll get outta here."
Mikey shrugged, "Don't see what the hold up is. That thing didn't eat nobody."
"Came close though."
"Run tell dat, girl! Just was mentioning it to the lil' guy, ain't that right?" Mikey turned to get Bret's conformation, but Bret was long gone, having snuck away the moment he got the bag in hand.