Who: Megara & Derek What: Meg gets held at knifepoint, causing Derek to react in wolf-form When: A couple days after the Oscars Where: Outside, not far from a bar Rating/Warning: A little violence and language but not awful Status: Complete!
Derek wasn’t a huge drinker. In fact he had probably only gone to a bar a few times in his twenty-five years. Although it had only been four since he would legally be let in anyway. Of the times he went it was either because his brother or Megara had insisted. And of course there was that party Tyler had, but that wasn’t a bar. Just a bunch of college kids and kegs. The point was, Derek rarely drank.
However, after completing the werewolf transformation last night, the geneticist needed a drink. Simon was back in Nevada and Derek didn’t really want to get him involved in all the werewolf and dream stuff anyway. So really, there was only one other option. Megara, who of course agreed to join him. What were best friends for after all?
After a few beers Derek was feeling good, not quite as worried about his new state of being and he was ready to leave. He had no desire to get full on drunk after all. “Thanks for joining me,” he told Meg sincerely as he paid off their tab. “I needed this.”
It didn’t take much to convince Megara - especially if it was his idea? More power to him, and she’d be there dutifully in the scenario he went off the edge a tipsy bit. Rare that he ever word, if she were to be honest, but there was always that in case scenario. And she’d promise to meet with him after his official transition to the furrier side of the supernatural spectrum; she’d seen the beginnings of it, and they had known it was coming. Now it was here and this was…life.
It didn’t seem that different. They adapted. Adaptation was the only way anyone could survive.
And a little liquid courage.
Hers had been some sweet cocktails - mixes of pineapple juice, cranberry, fruit liquors and floating garnishes. “I’m usually the one that has to nag you to take you out,” Meg chuckled, all rich and husky tones, dressed in a flowy beach dress (very Grecian like in a way) and wedged sandals. All dressed for the sake of comfort. “I don’t know if we were celebrating your official werewolf status or mourning the loss of normalcy, but the company was the best part.”
“Neither.” Honestly, he was a bit indifferent to the whole werewolf thing. He didn’t love it, but he didn’t hate it either. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. But still, the idea that he could hurt someone
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<i<again</i>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<B>Who:</b> Megara & Derek <b>What:</b> Meg gets held at knifepoint, causing Derek to react in wolf-form <b>When:</b> A couple days after the Oscars <b>Where:</b> Outside, not far from a bar <b>Rating/Warning:</b> A little violence and language but not awful <b>Status:</b> Complete!
<center><lj-cut text="Better run unless you want rabies."></center> Derek wasn’t a huge drinker. In fact he had probably only gone to a bar a few times in his twenty-five years. Although it had only been four since he would legally be let in anyway. Of the times he went it was either because his brother or Megara had insisted. And of course there was that party Tyler had, but that wasn’t a bar. Just a bunch of college kids and kegs. The point was, Derek rarely drank.
However, after completing the werewolf transformation last night, the geneticist needed a drink. Simon was back in Nevada and Derek didn’t really want to get him involved in all the werewolf and dream stuff anyway. So really, there was only one other option. Megara, who of course agreed to join him. What were best friends for after all?
After a few beers Derek was feeling good, not quite as worried about his new state of being and he was ready to leave. He had no desire to get full on drunk after all. “Thanks for joining me,” he told Meg sincerely as he paid off their tab. “I needed this.”
It didn’t take much to convince Megara - especially if it was <i>his</i> idea? More power to him, and she’d be there dutifully in the scenario he went off the edge a tipsy bit. Rare that he ever word, if she were to be honest, but there was always that <i>in case</i> scenario. And she’d promise to meet with him after his official transition to the furrier side of the supernatural spectrum; she’d seen the beginnings of it, and they had known it was <i>coming</i>. Now it was here and this was…<i>life</i>.
It didn’t seem that different. They adapted. Adaptation was the only way anyone could survive.
<i>And</i> a little liquid courage.
Hers had been some sweet cocktails - mixes of pineapple juice, cranberry, fruit liquors and floating garnishes. “I’m usually the one that has to nag you to take you <i>out</i>,” Meg chuckled, all rich and husky tones, dressed in a flowy beach dress (very Grecian like in a way) and wedged sandals. All dressed for the sake of comfort. “I don’t know if we were celebrating your official werewolf status or mourning the loss of normalcy, but the company was the best part.”
“Neither.” Honestly, he was a bit indifferent to the whole werewolf thing. He didn’t love it, but he didn’t hate it either. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. But still, the idea that he could hurt someone <i<again</i> terrified him. He had been on edge since he finally completed the transformation. “I just needed to take the edge off,” he shrugged. “Relax for a night.” Try not to worry, but that worry would always be there and that was probably a good thing.
“Shall we?” he asked with a raise brow once the bartender returned his credit card. Meg’s drinks were on him. It was the least he could do.
Derek, <i>relaxing</i>. What a concept. He was always so rigid and tightly wound, but she was glad he recognized that he needed some downtime - it made her worry a little less about how he’d deal with this. Still, Meg would keep an eye on him. Poke him through text on occasion, harass him with her Instagram photos (<i>why</i> people seriously did this, she’d never know, but it was fun to mock it) and awful hashtags.
Her purse strap hiked over her shoulder and she linked their arms in true ‘bestie’ form, patting his bicep. “Ready when you are,” she assured with a half-smile. “Thanks for the drinks, but next time let <i>me</i> treat. I don’t have college to worry about or a ramen budget to keep in mind, Derek.”
“I do have a job,” he replied with a half smile. Granted he was pretty sure Megara made more them his. He was still a research assistant after all, and from what he knew about show biz, it paid well. And yeah, med school was expensive. But he could still treat his friends once in awhile. There were only about three of them after all.
Arms linked the ‘besties’ made their way out of the bar, heading to the car. Derek was still sober enough to drive. Before they could get to the car a man came out of the shadows. He grabbed Meg, wrapping an arm around her neck holding a knife to her throat. “Give me your purse,” he demanded eyes then falling to Derek. “And your wallet.”
<i>Um</i>.
That was <i>crazy</i> sudden, wasn’t it, and was no one else around to see this particular thieving douchebag hold a blade to her neck? Meg guessed not, but she wasn’t about to budge from where she was even if there was <i>mace</i> in her purse - one wrong move, and he could slice a red smile across her throat and it was lights out.
Hades wouldn’t be happy to fish her out of the Underworld a second time.
“Take it easy,” she said through grit teeth, heart pumping <i>fast</i>, hazel eyes glued on Derek. <i>Just give him the money and let it go, don’t show the teeth</i>.
Derek had no intention of showing his teeth, and every intention of handing over his wallet. However his instincts had something else in mind. Instead of reaching into his pocket like he <i>planned</i> to do, he was dropping to all fours. Before he knew what was happening his body contorted, spine arching up ripping off his shirt. Fur sprouted all over his body, hands and feet turned into paws, claws sharp. His nose and mouth transformed into a snout with razor sharp teeth, green eyes glowed fiercely. Derek’s lip curled up as he snarled at the mugger.
“Oh, crap,” was Megara’s <i>brilliant</i> response - and that infamous and often annoyed ‘resting bitchface’ that she wore all too well, even in the crisis of danger, melted. Curiosity of the whole werewolf thing had always been there but this wasn’t the time, the <i>place</i>, and what if -
What if he did something he’d regret?
The gulp was loud. “Better run unless you want rabies. Just a friendly suggestion.”
The mugger stayed in place, frozen in shock and fear as he stared at the wolf before him.
As for Derek? Well the transformation had happened. Wasn’t much he could do about it now. Might as well do the best he could to use it to protect Megara. He took a step closer, growling at the man, showing his full set of teeth.
The muggers fight or flight response must have kicked in because his hands dropped to his sides, knife falling to the ground, luckily not grazing Meg in the process. And then he took off running. Derek followed closely behind, barking at the man until he was far away from Meg.
Meg felt she could <i>breathe</i>, relieved, goosebumps on her skin because while she didn’t appreciate being handled so damn rudely, she also appreciated that she wasn’t bleeding to death on the sidewalk from a slit throat - but it was short-lived.
There was a <i>werewolf</i> on the loose.
“Derek!” she called out with urgency and yes, that knife would be picked up in the case she needed it. In case. Who knew when she’d need it when they were almost mugged and, oh, one of them then became a supernatural <i>beast</i>. “Derek - it’s over! Come back!”
Hearing Meg call for him snapped Derek back to the moment. He neglected his chase of the mugger and came running back to Meg. Once he reached her he barked again, but this time his bark wasn’t threatening. He was trying to tell her everything was alright.
In wolf form, Derek came up to about just past Meg’s waist. He stepped closer to her, slowly so she wouldn’t feel threatened. Or at least he hoped she didn’t. Once he was close enough he gently nudged her knife free hand with his snout.
<i>Now</i> the relief returned for a more long term duration, because that could have been busy - <i>real</i> messy. There could have been blood with a side of murder but considering none of that actually happened? Meg was cool with it.
Meg maybe needed to walk back into the bar for more drinks, but she was cool with it.
Any afire nerves from a massive canine were squelched, eventually, though. It’s not like she didn’t trust Derek but, gods, this kind of change could be so unpredictable. It took Hades awhile to control his own changes and accidents <i>had</i> happened, and while Derek had assured her he had control she still worried.
“You make a cute pup,” she quipped with a rasped voice. Her hand went to slowly pet his head, and then eased to a scratch behind his ears because <i>c’mon</i>. “Are you stuck like this? Why am I even - you can’t speak in this form, right? <i>Right</i>. Nod or shake your head, or something.”
If Derek could laugh he would have. Instead it came out as more barking. Meg was asking a lot of questions to a wolf that couldn’t talk. He nodded his head - yes he was stuck like this. He had no control over when he changed or changed back. He didn’t think he ever would, from what he knew of the dreams. It just - happened. Then came another nod because no, he could not speak which Meg seemed to have already picked up on.
While he was thoroughly enjoying his ear scratch, he stepped away. Walking over to his ripped clothing, he ducked his head down nudging them toward Meg with his nose. Hopefully she got what he was saying - when he became human again he’d well, be in his birthday suit.
It clicked, Derek, don’t worry. Meg did a quick look around in case unwanted eyes were sent their way, and with the coast clear she gathered the shredded clothing and the keys to the car. “I’d prefer not to witness your set of dick and balls - no offense,” she snorted. “I’m convincing myself you’re like a Ken doll down there.”
And, really, it probably wouldn’t be the <i>best</i> thing to strut around nakedly out in the open, so she unlocked his car and opened the side passenger door for him. “C’mon, get in. Backseat. You can turn back into your scowly self, cover your chestnuts, and I’ll drive you back to your place to get you looking like a decent human being again. I mean, I do owe you for going wolf-mode and making sure someone didn’t slit my throat.”
If Derek was in human form he probably would have blushed at Meg’s comments. As it was he just hung his head walking over to her car and climbing in. Hopefully they’d get back to his place before his body decided to transform back to human again.