Fanfic: Were-___ [Teen Wolf]
Feb. 5th, 2012 02:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
argentum_lsSummary: Poor Scott. He just can't catch a break.
Word Count: 1520
“That is not how it works,” Derek proclaimed. He stood on the third stair from the bottom of the burnt out staircase in his burnt out house, the better to tower over Scott, despite already having a height advantage of several inches. His gray t-shirt was spotted with sweat from the workout that Scott had interrupted.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Scott replied, chopping at the air with his hands. He paced around the bottom of the stairs, careful to avoid the worst of the warping in the floorboards. Derek stared down at him, but Scott was oblivious, caught as he was in the turmoil in his head that had driven him to the point of approaching Derek at all. As a rule, he tried to avoid talking to the elder werewolf except when all other sources of information had failed, and this time definitely counted. “OK,” he amended, still pacing, “I didn’t know that. I don’t know what to expect about any of this.” He gestured in a sweeping motion down his body, which was currently no more confusing than the typical teenaged male’s body ever was. He wore worn jeans and a Beacon Hills High School t-shirt, and no one looking in on this conversation would guess that his body wasn’t always human.
“Show me,” Derek commanded. He backed up one step as if just now realizing that being too close to Scott might not be a smart idea.
“No!” Scott yelled. His voice cracked. “It’s too embarrassing. All I know is that it’s happening.” He squeezed his eyes shut, scowled. “It’s happening to me!”
Derek sighed, long and thick with frustration. “Fine,” he said. “Did something happen? Did you get scratched or bitten again?”
Scott’s eyes popped open in disbelief at the question. “I work at an animal clinic,” he answered. “I get scratched and bitten all the time. Especially now.” He gestured down his body again. His eyes already burned yellow. In the darkened shell of a house in the middle of the woods, only the fact that both boys had werewolf-enhanced vision meant that they could see at all. “Cats really don’t like werewolves,” he pointed out.
Derek rolled his eyes. “Did you get scratched or bitten by anything supernatural?” he amended.
Scott shook his head, then dragged a hand through his hair. “No,” he replied. “Nothing. I’d definitely remember that.”
“And you’re sure?” Derek asked. Scott heard the unspoken part of the question clearly: Are you sure you’re not just overreacting? As if he didn’t have a right to overreact. He wondered how Derek would feel if he woke up with … no. He couldn’t even go there mentally.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure.”
Derek backed up another step. The wood creaked loudly under his step, a punctuation to his retreat. Scott would have been offended if he wasn’t wishing so strongly that he could be the one backing away slowly from the whole problem.
“Please tell me you’ve heard about this, that you know anything about this,” Scott begged. “Tell me the truth.”
Derek blinked, opened his mouth, shut it again. “It happens sometimes,” he finally admitted. “It’s rare. Very rare.”
“How do I stop it?”
“You can’t.” The words dropped like stones into the anticipatory silence that stretched between them. “It’s a mutation. It’s part of who and what you are now.”
Scott sucked in a horrified breath. “So it’s going to get worse? This isn’t the end?”
Derek offered a silent, reluctant nod of confirmation, and raised his foot to retreat another step. He could trust the staircase to hold his weight, but he couldn’t trust the safety of breathing the same air as Scott. That stung.
And that wasn’t even the worst part. He’d have to tell Stiles, because if he didn’t, Stiles would just figure it out on his own eventually, and then there’d be extra retribution for keeping secrets. As if the mockery he was already going to get wasn’t bad enough. He’d have to tell Allison, and he couldn’t even imagine what she would think of what was happening to him. And he’d have to wake up every day, not knowing…
His thoughts flashed to that morning. Though he was slowly gaining better control of his werewolf transformation, he still woke up partially shifted on occasion, each time more grateful than the last that he had the extra lock on his bedroom door so that his mother wouldn’t walk in and catch him with glowing eyes, fangs, and sharp claws.
But, that morning when he woke up, the shift had been different. He’d known it before he recognized the specifics of what the differences were. His ears were wrong. His nose twitched, and he felt something strange on his upper lip where his face pressed into the pillow. He brought a hand up to the side of his head, and found not the usual pointy ear tip, but ears that hung down from his head, covered in a short, soft fur. They were definitely his ears. As he ran a hand over one, the fur bristled beneath his touch, and his nose twitched again.
“It only happens to those who are bitten,” Derek continued, interrupting his thoughts. “If you have the right genes—“ The wrong genes, Scott mentally corrected. “—your body won’t stop at werewolf. It’ll keep collecting DNA and incorporating it….” He let the rest of the explanation taper off, as if even speaking the words was too painful.
“Every time?” Scott squeaked. Did that mean he already had more to him that what he’d already discovered? He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that he got bitten and scratched at work all the time. And, while it was true that most of the clientele was cats and dogs, more exotic pets often came through the doors. In the last couple months, he’d seen a bearded lizard, a variety of gerbils and guinea pigs, a couple snakes, and—obviously—rabbits. Nasty, vicious rabbits who lashed out at the werewolf who tried to change their bedding, completely belying the reputation of rabbits as being gentle and sweet.
Derek’s expression was impassive, not a glare but stolid and unamused. At least he understood the gravity of the situation. Maybe a little too well. How bad was this going to get?
The question practically asked itself.
“Maybe you should quit your job,” Derek suggested. “And stay away from other animals.” Both suggestions were totally reasonable, but that didn’t make them easier to swallow. Scott’d always liked animals, which was why he’d taken the job at the clinic in the first place. He could have gone for a job at the grocery store like everyone else did. Now he might have to, though that would have it’s own problems, unless…
“So I’m not a werewolf anymore,” Scott asked. He couldn’t help the note of hopefulness that crept into the question. Working with those plastic bags would be difficult enough without random claws that got in the way.
Derek took another step backward. Where he’d started near the bottom in order to be intimidating, he’d now backed nearly all the way to the top, the reason for which was arguably more frightening than his original posture. “You’re still a werewolf,” he confirmed. “You’ll still default to that form because it was your first one, and that’s the form the full moon holds its sway over.”
Great, Scott thought. Just great. So, he got to be a vicious monster at least one day a month and any other time he so much as slipped in his control. Unless other forces took over and he lapsed into one of his other forms, because it couldn’t be enough to stop at being one kind of were-creature. It figured that he would screw this up, too. Did anyone else have to worry about being a food-chain unto themselves, he wondered? Did this mean that his instincts would really be at war with themselves? He turned away, unwilling to let Derek see the fear that he knew was written all over his face. He felt an itching on his upper lip, and realized with a quick glance up the stairs that it wasn’t just his instincts he was going to have to worry about, either—food-chains being what they were.
The stairs creaked again, the noise sharp and sudden. Scott couldn’t help his reaction. He bolted for the front door before he even understood what he’d heard, and raced into the woods with powerful bounds. Only after he was miles away and his breathing slowed from its panicked staccato did he start to understand how badly his exit could have ended. With a groan, he sunk down into the clearing, and covered his head with his arms. The night sky was black and cloud covered, not even a star to light to the way. Not even a star to wish on. He didn’t believe in that kind of superstition, but at this point he’d take any hope he could get for a cure. Never had he needed it more.
END
A/N: Fulfills AU Bingo prompt #1: Mutant
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 10:01 pm (UTC)I have to say, were-bunny's a first for me. You took something that sounds abundantly silly and actually made me feel really sorry for his plight, since it was grounded in in-character reactions. Nicely written.
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Date: 2012-02-06 02:32 am (UTC)This AU Bingo game has resulted in Scott getting the really raw end of the deal an awful lot. I felt bad writing this piece, especially because this was not all what I picked to use the Mutants prompt on. Then I got this image of Scott with lop-earred rabbit ears, and the rest was inevitable. ::sighs:: Who knew were-bunnies could be so angsty.
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Date: 2012-02-06 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-06 03:50 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! :)
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Date: 2012-02-06 02:41 pm (UTC)Anya was right! It really WAS bunnies! They are EVIL!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7z5Ea8JLtk
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Date: 2012-02-06 03:54 pm (UTC)A: I discovered new and interesting ways to whump Scott.
Glad you liked this. I have a feeling that this story is about to become one of my favorites.