InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "sweet boy"

With everything that happened to him in Edom, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been by the events of the morning and previous night. Derek had bitten him in an attempt to save his life, so there was always the chance he’d become a werewolf; even after the demon magic had completely healed him, bite included. The gap in his memory was more troubling, in all honesty. He didn’t like not knowing what he’d done or where he’d been. But was thankful that Clint was where he’d left him when he’d sneaked back into their room in the early morning. Warm, fast asleep and unscathed— Dylan had double checked after Derek’s message, just to be sure.

Lucky and Archer were asleep on the spare bed and Dylan wished he could be as relaxed. Wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep curled up in his husband’s arms as the littlest of spoons. But Derek was on his way, and Clint had read each message over his shoulder, so he supposed he should extricate himself from the cosy spot and brace for whatever was going to come next.

"I’m sorry, Honey." Dylan’s tone sounded uncertain and he tried to ignore the trepidation making his insides feel shivery as he looked about for clothes. Black lounge pants and a soft grey shirt with a purple target motif were first to hand, and he pulled them on. "Not sure if lycanthropy is covered by ‘in sickness and in health’."

Right in that moment, Clint was still stewing in both deep, deep concern and being really, really pissed at himself at the fact that he'd slept through his husband leaving for basically the entire night, only to wake up the tiniest bit the frozen toes pressing into his shin and Clint's arm surrounding familiar shoulders to pull him back against his chest before drifting off again. He stared a little helplessly, a frown trying to find purchase on his face despite the fact he was trying his best to clear it. They'd talked about this; neither of them thought it was possible. But the missing time was there, and Derek's messages had been plain:

Dylan was a werewolf.

It was the apology that finally snapped him out of his thoughts, but the doubt and regret was what launched him out of bed. There were probably clothes that should be thrown on before Derek got there, but it could wait. He rushed up to Dylan and took his face in his hands. "Hey, yeah, it absolutely does. I'm pretty sure it covers both, and even if it didn't, there's no way you're getting rid of me. You're mine, baby. No amount of new fangled wolfiness is gonna change that."

Closing his eyes as Clint’s hands framed his face, Dyl took a deep, calming breath, flooding himself with his husband’s scent. It was that, combined with his touch, heartfelt words and the little pet name, which alleviated Dylan’s anxiety. He had nothing to be afraid of when it came to their relationship. He belonged to Clint, not Derek, and Clint was his. A sudden possessiveness flared up and his hands latched onto his husband’s waist, slowly he opened his eyes, watching Clint’s reaction. "You’re my Mate now too."

Whether Dylan knew it or not, whatever feeling may have prompted it, Clint saw the exact moment his eyes flashed a brilliant blue. But that's not why he shivered, why his knees nearly gave out. Want and love and worry and wonder crowded out the anger he felt at himself for dismissing the increased warmth he'd felt from Dylan's skin since his return from that literally infernal place. No, he was way too busy telling his body that now was not the time to get turned on by the low growl in that declaration.

He wasn't sure what being a "mate" meant, but it felt right. Felt really fucking good, like he belonged to and with someone. Clint all but yanked his husband in to a lengthy kiss, broken only by a soft knock on the door. It was a nigh on miracle, but he managed not to curse except in his brain. "Just a second," he called out as he disentangled himself to grab a couple of things to make himself decent for polite society. He wound up in a pair of purple boxers with purple hearts on them and a Grape Ape t-shirt that fit just a hair too snuggly. The instant he was dressed, his hand was back in Dylan's and he gave him a nod. "Let's do this."

Dylan had heard the unexpected rumble in his voice but didn't have much time to react to it before he was being pulled into an intensely hot kiss. He was oblivious to the way his eyes had changed color momentarily, but couldn't help but notice the way Clint's body reacted to his growl. That shiver was a delightful tell, one he unfortunately couldn't act upon as the soft knock signalled the arrival of his Alpha.

A term which had a million times more weight behind it now.

Dylan chuckled a little as a wicked thought crossed his mind and he squeezed Clint's hand, dropping his head onto his shoulder as he pulled open the door.

"Hello, Daddy." He smirked at Derek, attempting to erase the frown from his friend's face.

"Oh, fuck you very much." Derek grimaced while Clint cackled. If ever there was the perfect way to diffuse the situation, that was it.

And make no mistake, that very first second was fraught with tension and discomfort. Without a shred of self-preservation instinct, Clint reached out his free hand and used it to pull Derek into the room by his shoulder. He saw the way the other's nose twitched, but he found it admirable that Derek kept from curling his lip back in distaste. The room was probably saturated in sex and serotonin. Didn't matter how much time had passed, Clint was still totally hot for his husband and showed him at every possible opportunity. Derek would just have to live with that for the duration of his visit. "Siddown, if you want. We got an extra bed. Don't mind the dogs."

Lucky and Archer picked their heads up, looked at Derek for a long moment like inwardly debating how they felt about the wolf in their room, on top of the other wolf who had been there for a few weeks, then decided they weren't bothered enough to cause a protective stink and curled up around each other again. Derek raised a brow at them and took a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze tracking back to Dylan. "How are you feeling?"

Derek’s reaction was perfect and Dylan chuckled, flicking the door closed once his Alpha had crossed the threshold; with a little help from his husband. Once the initial awkwardness was dispersed, he wondered if the pups would react to another werewolf on their home turf. But apparently they were so used to Derek —having been houseguests at the loft for the duration of Clint’s absence— that him dropping by didn’t bother them at all. Or they were just far too comfortable and sleepy to care, especially as their humans didn’t seem perturbed.

"I’m fine." Dylan replied, wanting to shrug, but fighting the urge. It didn’t feel like the time to be nonchalant. Not when their world/lives had been altered so drastically. It wasn’t just him who was affected by this. "Confused mostly, is memory loss normal for the full? I don’t feel any differently to how I did earlier in the week, just hotter than usual."

Clint knew from intense—one didn't do what he used to do with alarming frequency not to have stared down the likes of Thanos and Doctor Doom and/or a pissed off Wolverine—but the current look in Derek's eyes was enough to give even him pause. He had no idea what was going on in that wolfy brain, but the stretch of silence was damn near worrying. Clint did his best not to fidget, so that all he did was tighten his arm where it rested around Dylan's waist. He was still pretty irritated at himself for not noticing sooner.

"From what I've heard, It's fairly common for newly bitten wolf to lose some time during their first shift, but that's usually because your instincts and animal mind have taken over. It's a bit of a concern if you're not remembering flashes of anything, however." Derek shifted, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable and disconcerted. "And there's the small matter of me not being able to feel you until you actually turned. When I bit my betas before, I could feel the pack bonds within hours. I don't know why I couldn't feel it with you until last night. I'd say it was because you were already pack, but I'd know the difference. Do you—do you feel it now? Did it change for you too?"

Dylan perched on the edge of their bed, needing a slight reprieve from that intense gaze. He was grateful that Clint had moved with him, instinctively knowing his mood, and leaned into his husband’s side when his arm tightened on his waist. "Ah, yeah, I almost forgot you weren’t bitten," Dylan muttered, stretching his legs out in front of him and looking at his toes. It was strange, how his change had been so sudden, and how he couldn’t remember any of it. The werewolves he’d known in his world of origin had been able to recall their shifts —the older ones at least. Maybe Edom being the place he was bitten had something to do with it. There had certainly been a weird, unsettling, atmosphere there.

Scrunching his brows together in thought, he tried to dredge up a scrap of memory of last night’s events, but all he came up with was a feeling. "I needed to be outdoors. I didn’t like the smell of the facility. But that’s it… I don’t remember anything else." He hadn’t been covered in blood when he woke, nor had he scented any nearby, so he couldn’t have hurt anyone. "There’s more of a connection between us now. I feel closer to you, like family. Is that what you meant?"

It wasn't like Clint knew a whole lot about werewolf or supernatural lore. Even in his world, he'd really only had a few encounters over the years. Granted, they were memorable af, and some of them he wished weren't, but he'd never really delved into the why or the how of any of it. Now he kind of wished he had, because apparently there was such a thing as born wolves and bitten wolves and a difference between the two. Between one blink and the next, Derek's eyes went from hazel to a glowing red. Clint didn't feel threatened, though, because the wolf's mouth also shifted from a hard line to a soft smile. "Yeah. That's what I mean. Like family. But the rest? I'm not sure about, but I think I know who we can pull in to help. That's up to you, though."

His thoughts racing, Clint grimaced. "You're not talking about a magic type, are you? I love them on a personal level, but magic, man. It sucks."

"No." This somewhat zen Derek was a little on the weird side, but Clint was willing to roll with it if it meant his husband was okay. "Not a magic type. More of a… Stiles type. He won't have all the answers, but he's probably our best bet to help figure out what this means."

The glowing red eyes were much better than the sickly green ones he’d seen in Asmodeus’ dungeon and he smiled in response. "Family which now includes an Iowan bombshell." Dylan leaned his head on Clint’s shoulder then, feeling as if he needed to be even closer to his husband, "Which makes Derek your Alpha-in-Law, Hon." Derek’s lack of answers was a tiny bit disconcerting, but he knew they would figure it out. Especially if there was someone else in the portalee community who could help.

Patting his husband’s thigh as he sensed the spike of emotion when Clint mentioned magic, he looked up at Derek, wondering if Magnus was who he had in mind to ask. He had to admit that after his own brush with magic and death, he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the thought of more exposure to anything or anyone magical.

"Stiles? If you think he can help, then sure. I don’t mind him knowing."

The twin groans of Derek and Clint were almost a perfect stereo and there was a beat of surprised silence after, followed by laughter. "It's okay, Der-bear, you'll get used to having this much awesome in your pack in no time."

Derek rolled his eyes, but he couldn't do a damn thing to hide the fondness not-so hidden in his look. "Can't wait." He leaned back some, and it was apparently enough to cause Archer to let out a little whuff and uncurl just so he could lay his head against Derek's thigh. And that's how Clint really knew the guy was a good'un. If their dogs trusted him enough to let him pet between their ears and rub between their eyes, it was as good as Gospel as far as he was concerned. "I'm used to having big personalities around anyway."

His attention turned back to Dylan, and he still hadn't lost that warmth, even if worry was still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He's from about a year after I got here. If I know him at all, he was knee deep in the supernatural lore when he wasn't over his head in trouble. I trust him." Lucky came around Derek's other side and decided to use his other leg as a pillow as well. His laugh resembled a pleased rumble, and he began to pet Lucky, too. His gaze, no longer red-tinged, lingered on Dylan for a long moment. "What can I do? For you? For both of you? I know this has to be a really big adjustment."

An undignified snort of laughter followed the twin groans, which just increased when the two people he was closest to in all the world laughed together. This really felt right the three of them getting along, spending time together, and something inside of him was incredibly content with this situation, and he figured it must be his wolf. Weird how he had one of those now. It was just as Gabriel had described, like he had a second spirit.

Derek's worry was still evident and he chewed on his lip in response, pondering what kinds of supernatural lore they'd have to look into with regard to his transformation. "We'll probably have to speak to the people who know about Edom too. Maybe because I was there when I was bitten, something's different this time?"

Despite everything, he couldn't help but smile at Derek and their dogs, all three looked incredibly cosy. But the questions had him focussed again, and he lifted his head to look at his husband for a moment. "I think we'd appreciate any info on what to expect. You said we both needed to be careful about biting, which confused me a little. Surely if Clint bit me he wouldn't turn?"

Chucking, he looked back to his Alpha, "Or on a less awkward note… can you teach me how to control the shifts? Or keep my memory during the full moon?"

Unless Clint was mistaken, he could see the moment where Derek's misgivings about Dylan's wolfish origins matched up with Dyl's. The younger man's smile faded, and Clint's hand squeezed at his husband's waist. "That's something we're going to have to figure out. The Edom connection, not the biting. We can find a time to sit down with Magnus or Jace, Alec, and Isabel, see if they might know more. Again, not about the biting. That part is more of a precaution."

Derek glanced off to the side, and Clint watched pink spill across his cheeks and crawl up to the tips of his ears. "You're older, yes, more mature, but these early days of being changed usually means the wolf is closer to the surface. The only danger Clint has in biting you is accidentally triggering your defensive instincts." He frowned thoughtfully, looking between the pair of them. "There might be less of a danger between you two, however. You've been together for a long while. His scent is in your mind, Dylan. You'd probably know him, even if the wolf is prominent in your head. I'd just advise caution, okay? We don't know. These are new grounds, but we'll figure it out together, as a pack."

Clint felt warmed when Derek's gaze flicked to him; he still wasn't sure what this could mean for their future, but it was nice to know he'd be included as much as possible. He sent Derek a grin. "Don't worry, Der-bear, I'll make sure my man gets all the calming pets he wants."

The other man wisely ignored him, but the edge of his mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a laugh, but it was close enough to count. "As for the control and memory issues? Yes, there are meditations we can do. The building Steve and I moved to has a lot of space we can use as well, when we're not in the woods. I'll guide you through using your senses and listening to yourself so you can control the shift. Work with the wolf. Like I said, we'll get through this. I promise."

It made sense to talk to the Shadowhunters, and Magnus, especially considering they met his father while in Edom. It was also a relief that he hadn’t been the only one thinking his wolf had some weird connection to the demonic energy in that dimension.

His lips twitched slightly at the blush which crept across Derek’s cheeks, but there wasn’t much he could have done to lessen the embarrassment. The question needed to be asked even if it was awkward as heck. "So I just need to be extra careful about everything for the first few months? I can do that. I hope." He aimed for a confident smile, but it was a little too small to be convincing. "I knew his scent in medical, even with all that copper lingering in the room."

Turning his head, he hid his face against Clint’s shoulder and took a deep inhale for good measure, storing the comforting smell in both of his memories.

"I think either the warehouse or the woods would be the best place for my changes until I get a better handle on them." He gave a little nod at the advice, working with the wolf made sense, so long as it didn’t want to hurt anyone or anything. "Thanks, Derek."

Clint didn't flinch in the slightest, either from being sniffed—something he was going to get used to, apparently, which was so much better than the alternative—or when Derek rose from the opposite bed and came over to lean down. Derek may have pressed his forehead against Dylan's, but he took Clint's free hand in such a way that his fingers touched the inside of Clint's wrist, resting against his pulse. Oh, he thought, right as Derek smiled and said. "Of course. We're pack."