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The two have them had gone about this song and dance enough times. By now, Bonne could pick up the cues. Mie had always been good at reading people, especially when mie had a reason to. Swindling passersby, impressing crowds, gaining the attention of beautiful people - Bonne did well with an incentive.
Orzo gives mem a fair number of reasons to learn hyr reactions. Not just because shy is beautiful, though shy is, or because Bonne wants to impress hyr, though mie does. Mie is fond of hyr, but the purely biological, survival instincts part of mier brain still remain, anticipating Orzo’s shifts. That’s what a near death experience will get a person, even if Bonne doesn’t hold any of that even remotely against them.
Orzo is quiet. Orzo has big, watchful eyes, warm brown. Orzo is bright and focused and observant, right up until the sun sets above hyr. That’s the first thing - hyr eyes start to fog over. Hyr attention drifts. Sometimes, Bonne snaps mier fingers to get hyr back to mem, and shy bashfully smiles that close-lipped smile of hyrs.
(Mie wants hyr to smile more broadly. Mie’s charmed by the fangs, sharp and bronzing and extending back in hyr mouth like chairs in a theater. And even if mie wasn’t, fuck mem, Orzo should get to smile.)
Mie found hyr spaciness odd the first time mie saw it, the night Orzo ended up slitting mier throat. Now, it makes mier chest feel tight. Makes mier glad for mier game face, makes mier angry with the parts of memself that are still afraid of hyr.
The physical changes come quick once they start. Orzo is muzzled and laid out on hyr bed (the bed where, God, Bonne had had to encourage hyr to buy blankets for hyrself rather than always just letting hyrself lay there in the cold). Shy is restrained there by a chain-linked pair of cuffs passing through a pair of hooks set into hyr wall. They’re the third or fourth set the two of them have tried, looking for something that will neither snap in two nor leave hyr wrists bruised and scratched raw. Shy’s lying there, hyr focus drifting as the two of them chat, and then hyr breath starts to change - heavy, humid, like shy’s trying to breathe through something. Or like shy’s panicking.
“You’re okay,” Bonne says automatically. “You’re okay, Orzo.” Mie crosses over to where shy’s sitting, laying a hand on hyr shoulder. It’s easy, thoughtless, even as mier own heart is starting to pick up.
Shy leans into it. Hyr head tips to one side, pressing hyr cheek to mier knuckles through the muzzle straps. Progress. Bonne feels mier body warm through every time Orzo doesn’t flinch away from mem.
Then Orzo starts to change in earnest. Hyr limbs and torso extend, splaying off the ends of the mattress. Shy’s always larger than mie’s expecting. Hyr jaw changes, sharpening, extending out as a muzzle forms. Bonne draws back once mie feels fur start to come in on either side of mier hands. Hyr legs aren’t tied (because it matters less as long as the cuffs hold firm, because it’s hard to find a system that can be put on while shy’s human-sized that doesn’t leave them bent near in half while shy isn’t, because Orzo deserves to be comfortable), and Bonne walks past the end of the bed as hyr bare feet and turning into long paws.
The worst part of the experience, worse even than the nights when Bonne would have been killed if not for blaseball keeping them alive, are the sounds shy makes while shy changes. The heavy breaths turn into hisses and groans as hyr spine bends and grinds, hyr pretty brown eyes screwing shut. Bonne has asked if it hurts, the shift itself, not the restraints. Orzo had insisted it didn’t. Mie doesn’t know if mie believes hyr, really, but it’s something for mem to hold onto. Mie repeats it in mier head as Orzo twists, hyr joints popping as they invert themselves into canid shapes. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, shy’s fine shy’s fine shy’s fine.
Then there comes a moment when the shifting slows to a halt, when mie can tell that Orzo is gone. Shy would disagree - hyr wolf is hyr, as much as any other part of hyr is. And Bonne cares for this part of hyr, too, enough to make the idea of hyr making mem bleed out again infinitely preferable to hyr running out the door and potentially never coming back. Still, though, there’s a lack of recognition, that and a growl in mier direction.
The wolf, Orzo, whichever - shy starts twisting at the restraints. Shy tugs and tugs, growls and pants soundtracking it. On the other side of the room, Bonne’s traitor of a brain plays scenes from past nights at Orzo’s house: hooks stripping out of the wall, restraints snapping in two like dry branches. Orzo hurting hyrself, wrist and finger joints popping in ways even less natural than they did in the shifts. Claws coming free and slicing into mem, mier insides forming barely-visible stains on Orzo’s thin dark carpet. That’s how every night that mie has spent here has gone, but- well, Bonne is undeterred.
And somehow, tonight, none of it comes. Shy pulls, shy writhes, but nothing snaps.
“Oh my god.” Bonne can’t help but laugh, relief flooding over them. “We did it.” Orzo starts to howl, a mournful sound that makes Bonne feel like shy’s celebrating with mem.
Mie wants to throw mier arms around hyr. Mie can’t, not when shy’s still writhing and gnashing hyr teeth at the restraints. Mie wouldn’t even in the daytime - it would be too much, too close to the things that made hyr jump, too likely to disturb the little island of trust they’d built between them. But mie thinks about it more often than anyone would be able to drag out of mem. Mie takes a step forward, thoughtless, wanting to be close to hyr, and-
Maybe they should reconsider ankle restraints. The step is one step too close - hyr bottom left paw darts out, carving long gashes through mier stomach.
The pain is sharp, all consuming. Mier eyes start to water almost immediately. Blood warms the tops of mier legs, spreads sticky over mier palms when mie presses them to the cuts. It’s better than having mier throat cut - mie isn’t choking on memself, even if mie can feel mier ribs shifting against the wound as mie breathes.
Mie falls backwards, which makes it easier. Mie stumbles to mier feet, then to Orzo’s bathroom. That’ll be easier to clean than the carpet, at least.
~
Bonne manages to sleep. Healing, even accelerated by magic, is an exhausting thing. When mie wakes up on Orzo’s couch, three of the four parallel marks on mier stomach are together enough to be barely visible. The last one is still red and angry, but at least it’s in a place people aren’t likely to see.
Orzo is de-wolf-ified in hyr bed, still chained to the wall, dead asleep. Bonne quietly begins to clean. Mie scrubs as much blood as mie can from the carpet, and the bathroom floor, and any in the tub that mie missed in mier injured daze the night before.
It doesn’t take too long. Mie’s in the kitchen frying eggs when a voice calls from the bedroom. “Bonne?”
Bonne smiles. “One second.”
As soon as mie’s unlocked one of Orzo’s hands, shy is trying to sign. “They held?”
Mier smile widens. “They did. How do you feel?”
Shy rubs at hyr wrists before shy continues signing. “I feel great.” Orzo can’t help but smile as mie takes the muzzle off - wide, wide enough that shy knicks hyr bottom lip. “And you’re fine?”
Shy means physically. That’s never mattered to Bonne less. “I’m peachy.”
Shy sits up, arms coming to wrap around mem. “Thanks,” shy croaks out.
It takes a second for Bonne to hug them back. “Of course. Least I could do.”