Chapter Text
Being the only ones to stay home from a job is much, much more fun when it’s just them and Sous. Fauntleroy is sprawled out unapologetically on the living room couch with their feet in his lap. Things have been good lately. Comfortable at home, triumphant in business. Just good .
And tonight is good too. The clock has just ticked past three in the morning and Fauntleroy can feel themself sliding comfortably in the space that is simultaneously past their sleeping point and out of reach of full rationality.
They whiled most of the evening away with talk, but now they’ve been lying here in comfortable silence for a while. So much so that they genuinely have to catch up for a second when Claquesous speaks to them.
“You’ve got to explain something to me, Bouquetière.”
Fauntleroy smiles. His voice is low and relaxed, smooth enough to tickle down their spine. They don’t care if he’s doing it on purpose or not, they love it. “Mm?” they hum. “What?”
He tilts his head, dark eyes fixing on them attentively and Fauntleroy shamelessly enjoys the way every last bit of his attention shifts to them.
"Why do you like it when I go wolfish?"
A flash of heat floods their face and settles in their cheeks. They were not expecting that. “It...it looks nice is all."
Claquesous smirks, his hand is still resting on their ankle. "That's not an answer. Worse, it's a non-answer."
"What?!” they protest, feeling the heat travel down their neck. “You look nice!"
"Specifically how?" he demands.
"Your- I—" Their heart, being no help at all, is fluttering uselessly under his gaze. “Your eyes are really pretty."
"Pretty?" He’s smirking again and it’s clearly audible in his voice this time.
"Yes! And, um, well, you move different, and your teeth..."
"Are 'pretty' too, then, hm?"
"They're... Stop looking at me like that!" Fauntleroy pulls up their legs, away from his lap, nearly squirming at the way his eyes twinkle. When he first asked they were worried for a second that this was something he still had a problem with, but it doesn’t seem that way anymore.
“Looking at you like what?” His smirk widens a little and he turns more fully towards them, shifting his weight on the couch. “Like this?”
And before their eyes, with perfect control, he blinks, and opens his eyes with an amber glow.
Fauntleroy can’t really help the small gasp that escapes their lips, but neither are they trying. “ Sous— ”
“It’s easier now,” he says, a sort of triumph shimmering through his amusement. “Less of a struggle. I don’t think it’s linked to my temper anymore.”
He blinks again and his eyes darken to their usual deep brown.
Even with their heart skipping an unreasonable amount of beats Fauntleroy doesn’t fail to recognise how amazing this is. It’s like seeing him blink awake in his wolf form, but reverse. And much, much more controlled. It makes sense, in a way, that coming to accept the wolf more would make this easier for him. Since it’s Sous who is in primary control in the first place here. But still. “Sous,” they breathe again, a smile dancing around their lips. “That’s—"
“-convenient,” he grins and as he does so, and bares his teeth, they lengthen just a touch.
He doesn’t blink this time and Fauntleroy sees specks of gold melt away the brown as they spread throughout his eyes, making heat they just felt on their cheeks flutter wildly through their midriff.
“ Very convenient.”
Claquesous’ movements change, suddenly fluid and animal as he leans towards them, and even as he finishes speaking Fauntleroy can hear the growl purr in the back of his throat.
“Fuck—" they breathe.
His grin has fangs now.
It takes Fauntleroy half a second to decide to push themself off the couch and start running and about nine to find out how much faster Sous is like this.
---
He feels less...fragmented. That’s probably the right word. How exactly that explains that by now he is aware of the inadvertent changing of his eyes Claquesous doesn’t quite know. Surely it should mean that it would begin to feel the same to him. But it doesn’t. There’s a clear difference. It’s just- it both feels like him . Maybe that’s why it’s easier to control now. Why he’s awake during the moon.
It’s strange. If he could have told himself he’d ever get here - before all this, before Faun - he would have seen it as overpowering the wolf. But that’s not what it feels like at all. It feels more like the wolf is always there now. And in exchange he is more present when the moon is full. Like there is no longer a he and it, but an us . And us that is just him. An us that might fade into an indistinguishable me in time. Maybe. It’s difficult.
Or it would be difficult.
If it still mattered.
He sits up a little to watch Faun as they stir their lemonade on the tiny kitchen counter. If they bring over any more stuff they’re going to end up turning this safe house into an actual apartment.
“What?” they demand, when they come back with their giant glass.
He gives them a fond shake of his head.
-
Fauntleroy nestles back into their spot on the bed, placing their glass of fresh lemonade on the small dresser beside it. This has been the most wonderful, lazy day. They reach out for Sous and make a coaxing sound at the back of their throat. They want to restore their exact position from before their craving for liquid sugar.
Claquesous hums at them and lets himself slide down, moving over until he can rest his head in their lap.
Gleefully they murmur their wordless approval and after a sip of their drink they busy themself with combing their fingers through his hair until the curls are almost turning to waves. That is the only drawback to this. But it doesn’t really bear mentioning.
Claquesous has his eyes closed more often than not, only moving his head to get them to reach certain spots their fingers are passing over. But when he does open his eyes to look at them, there is yellow glinting in the brown. That’s been happening more and more lately.
“Your eyes are mixed again,” they say fondly, scratching him behind his ear just to see him melt a bit. They no longer have to worry about mentioning his eyes to him.
Sous makes a thoughtful, easy noise of acknowledgment.
Fauntleroy smiles tilting his head a bit to see the flecks of amber shimmer in the dark. “Looks good on you.”
He smirks. “Would it look better with fangs?”
They laugh, giving him a poke in his side. “Everything looks good on you.” They wind a strand of hair around their finger. “I like your accidental changes.”
And they mean that in the broadest sense of the word. Whether it’s his fangs coming out snarling when he’s angry, or his eyes changing halfway through a kiss, or his voice slipping into something like an animal’s whine in his sleep. It feels natural.
His expression shifts a bit as he listens to them, still thoughtful. "Sometimes..."
He trails off and even after a moment’s silence he doesn’t resume, so they give a soft, prompting scratch at the base of his skull. "Sometimes what?"
"Sometimes I wonder if that is the most….me.” He closes his eyes. “Somewhere just a step or two removed from the man, towards the wolf."
"Oh?" That's not something he has ever said before. And he doesn’t even sound conflicted about it.
Sous hums and tilts his head further into their touch, making them smile. They bury their left hand fully into his curls. His hair grows so fast. He had it cut only three weeks ago.
When his eyes open again they are even yellower than before. "That new occult book Parnasse found..."
"Yeah?" They gentle their touches just a little, he always ends up speaking in broken off sentences when they’re scratching him properly.
"It said something about - they can't prove a thing of course - but it claimed the infection only works on people who have a beast for it to latch onto in the first place. That that is why some people die of the fever."
-
Faun's hands still completely for a moment, and they wind one of his curls thoughtfully around their finger. They are not quite looking at him, but he can see the questioning look in their eyes very clearly. "What about me?"
"You?"
Their eyes meet his. "Do you think I have a beast?"
He smirks, snorting softly. "If that wild look in your eyes when you're having fun is anything to go on, yeah." Faun can be more feral than he is, everyone knows that, and the Patron-Minette has very little to do with that.
The smile on Fauntleroy’s face is so damn pleased with themself that Claquesous can’t help but grin. His eyes are bright yellow right now, he can feel it, and somewhere something else shifts a little closer towards the wolf in him. Faun would make a beautiful wolf. They would.
That is an odd thought. One he probably shouldn’t be thinking. But...he can trust the wolf. He can trust himself. Faun is in no danger of getting wounded. No danger of getting turned. They will not end up accidentally infected.
He looks at their faintly smiling expression and takes in the wild glint buried deep in their eyes.
He loves them so much.
...and they would make a beautiful beast.
-
Fauntleroy smiles, letting their hands slowly run through the length of Sous’ hair. He’s giving them that look again. They could bask in that look.
“It’s a good theory,” they say lightly and they gather his hair together again, pulling it away from his neck. “I like it.”
Claquesous hums, slowly turning his head until he can kiss their left hand. His lips are warm. He always feels a couple degrees warmer than they do, no matter how flushed they feel. It’s wonderful.
They hum back, teasingly tracing his cheeks and bottom lip with their thumb until he can’t resist anymore and one of his kisses turns into a nip at their fingers.
Fauntleroy grins at his flash of teeth. There's no way they would ever let some stupid fever do them in, not if the experience of running free beside him was on the other side.
“What?” Claquesous asks, sighing slightly.
“Nothing,” they say warmly. “I just love you.”
His grin has just a touch of fangs. “We love you too.”