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Chapter Text

His nightmares are full of teeth.

When he's awake, Josh is exhausted. He knows he's worn himself to pieces by escaping that place, on a physical level as well as another, one he has no name for. He feels like gravity has increased its grip on his body, dragging him down when he tries to sit up or stand; walking farther than the bathroom is impossible despite his repeated efforts.

Escaping his prison was critical to him, but now he's trapped once more, in a place far less clinical and medicinal and cold. It's somebody's bedroom; it's not his. There's a bed and a nightstand, the latter of which always seems to be playing host to a sandwich and a glass of water. Josh is pretty sure it's not the same sandwich, seeing as he's nibbled at it before, but his stomach is disagreeable and he's so tired that he's never able to stay up long enough to finish the whole thing.

He knows he's wounded, but the pain is less of the fierce burning he felt when it was first inflicted, having dulled to a slower, steady thrum of hurt beneath his skin. The glass of water always has two pills sitting next to it, and Josh always takes them. That, combined with his exhaustion, helps to take the edge off.

Josh still feels pain in his sleep, but at least it's quieter than when he's awake.

In fact, everything is quiet for awhile. He doesn't see another person, the one who must be bringing him the food and medicine, the one who pulled him from the snow. The one who saw too much, who carried him, delirious with pain and fatigue, out of the forest and all the way here. Wherever here is.

He doesn't know how much time has passed before he sees another person, maybe a few days. What he does know is that for the first time since he was taken here, he's woken by sound.

Barking, rapid and sharp, rings through the air, and Josh's eyes fly open. He manages to sit up in bed, leaning against the pillows at his back, but he knows he's in no state to defend himself. Certainly not from multiple dogs, with no weapons in his hands.

He could try to shift, but the idea is so repellant that he isn't sure he would be able to do it if he wanted to.

Josh straightens further at a new sound: a sharp tsk! A human silences the dogs, pushes them aside; Josh can hear at least one unhappy whine, but ultimately the barking stops. All is quiet again.

The doorknob to the bedroom turns, slowly, and a figure wriggles into the room. There's dogs behind him, pushing to get in, whining and sniffing the air, but he only opens the door far enough for himself, shutting it quickly after to keep the dogs out.

Josh's memory of their first meeting is a little hazy, but he does recognize his face. It's his rescuer, and he's holding a tray with a fresh sandwich and glass of water.

He looks surprised to see that Josh is awake, but not displeased. "Sorry 'bout the dogs. They know you're here," he says, obviously.

Josh doesn't say anything, keeping his eyes trained on his rescuer as he comes closer to set the tray on the nightstand. Josh shrinks into himself a little, away from the stranger and into the pillows at his back. He feels he has good reason to be apprehensive.

"This is the last of the Advil PM," the rescuer says, setting the two pills next to the glass of water as he talks. "Not a good idea for you to be taking it religiously, anyway, but I thought the pain might keep you up."

Josh still doesn't say anything, stays still, just observing him. The stranger has short hair, dark eyes, a small slope of a nose. He's slight, unassuming, but he didn't seem to have any trouble carrying Josh when he was unable to walk. He's unarmed, at least as far as Josh can see.

The stranger steps back like he's going to leave as quickly as he came. He sits on the very end of the bed, instead, far enough from Josh that there's a few feet between them. Privately, Josh appreciates this. "What's your name?"

Rarely is Josh referred to by his name anymore. Very rarely, they call him by his last name, when they're trying to be nice to him, but that doesn't last very long. They prefer violence to get their way.

Josh is a little taken aback by the question, so he just repeats what he's been asked. "What's your name?"

His rescuer's lips twitch upwards slightly, like he's holding back a laugh. "Tyler."

Tyler. Though he's still a little hesitant, Josh swallows, and he says, "Josh."

"Josh," Tyler repeats, smiling properly now. "Nice to formally meet you, Josh. Let me be the first to say it: you've got an outstanding knife wound on your upper thigh."

"I noticed," Josh says quietly, and this time Tyler does laugh. Josh doesn't.

"You're lucky I know first aid. I don't know if you would have bled out or anything, but it wasn't looking so good when I got to you."

Josh shrugs, picks at the quilt covering his lap.

"If the regular Advil isn't strong enough, I can get some more of the other stuff."

"It's fine." Josh's voice cracks a little; he can't help it.

Tyler's voice lowers to something gentler. "Do you want me to leave?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, Josh nods. Fortunately, Tyler doesn't push it, just standing up and stepping towards the door with an almost apologetic look on his face. "If you need anything, you can call for me, okay?"

He nods again; then, as an afterthought, he says "Thank you."

Tyler smiles, hand on the doorknob, too casual for what he says next. "No morphing for you for awhile, alright? Not unless you want me to have to sew you back together again."

Josh feels like he's been punched in the gut. "I won't," he manages. And then Tyler's gone.

Morphing. He called it morphing.

It probably doesn't mean anything. Morphing is a fine enough word for what Josh does. Shifting, switching, and turning all work, too. In his head, though, Josh calls it none of these. He doesn't like to think about it at all.

It's still him on the inside, when it happens. He has to share his head with something else, and the two of them fight for space, but he's still there. It makes losing control to it all the more awful; he can't do anything sometimes except watch.

Josh shuts his eyes tight. How could Tyler talk about it so casually? He knows what he looks like when he's in that state, the state Tyler found him in. It's an ugly thing, a frightening one. The first time Josh saw his own reflection, he screamed, and that only made it worse, because that scream was more like a howl, and that howl was coming from the jaws of a monster.

Thinking about it makes it worse. One of his hands moves to gingerly touch the edge of the bandage around his thigh, and he grits his teeth before scratching at it, over and over, until the pain is at the forefront of his mind. He can't think about it if he's distracted.

He can't let the pain get too bad, though, either, so he stops after a moment and takes the last Advil PM before laying back down. In sleep, Josh can be somewhere else. In sleep, he can go home.

Or, he could, if he knew where home was anymore.

The next time Josh wakes, he's less exhausted than before. Maybe it was the Advil PM finally wearing off, maybe he had just slept until he couldn't anymore. Either way, he feels more alert than he has since he first came here.

The dogs aren't throwing themselves at the door today, so Josh has little warning before the bedroom door cracks open. He starts at the sound, scrambling back against the headboard, expecting the worst. It's just Tyler, but this knowledge does little to relax him.

"You're up," Tyler says, sounding pleased. He doesn't have a sandwich with him this time, instead holding a small plastic bag. He shuts the door and makes himself at home on the end of the bed, taking a seat and pulling stuff out of the bag: bandages, antiseptic, topical pain relief. 

Once the bag is empty, he looks to Josh, still scrunched up in the corner. "I've gotta change the bandage on your thigh," he explains, patting the spot on the bed next to him. Beckoning.

Josh doesn't move.

Something in Tyler's face changes, softens. "Hey," he says. "Are you okay?"

Josh doesn't have words for how not okay he is now, how not okay he's been for months, for longer. It was summer when he signed the contract; escaping the facility, Josh saw and felt snow beneath his feet.

Paws. Or, they were at the time.

"I don't know what you've been through," Tyler continues, keeping his voice even, "but that cut needs to be clean, or it'll get infected. So, unless you know first aid..." he gestures with one hand.

Josh shakes his head. Tyler's other hand, still resting on the quilt, moves closer to him, and the animal reacts faster than Josh can. He bares his teeth, pushing his back into the corner of the bed and the wall.

Tyler draws his hand back again, shows them both to Josh, palms up. "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? I'm not armed. You can pat me down if you want."

The idea sends a rush of warmth to Josh's face, but he scowls at Tyler, still silent as he sizes him up. He doesn't look prepared for a fight: he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, like he's having a lazy Sunday. His hair is a little mussed, his eyes are sincere, and his hands are, yes, free of weapons.

"You're not armed," Josh says, echoing Tyler's statement.

"That's right." Tyler sets his hands back in his lap, loosely clasped together. "Just want to change your bandage, apply some antiseptic. I'll be gentle and I'll stop if you need me to."

Josh hates this. He hates that it's so hard for him to trust Tyler, that his trust was taken from him ages ago and made brittle as old bone.

Though the animal growls at him, instincts pushing him to keep his defensive stance, Josh reluctantly moves closer to Tyler; not as close as he'd gestured for him to sit, but close enough that he's within arm's reach. He ignores the way the little hairs on the back of his neck are prickling at the close proximity.

"That's better," Tyler hums, then moves, busying himself with the seal on the antiseptic. "If you can stretch your leg out for me, that would be great."

There was a time, earlier in his tests, that the researchers would talk to him in this way. They'd be nice to him, treat him almost like they were equals; like they had his best interests in mind. Later, after things started to go sour--after Josh came to understand what he'd really signed up for--the veil of their kindness fell, and they treated him much worse.

Remembering those times makes Josh tremble, but he does as Tyler asks, stretching out his bad leg on top of the quilt. It hurts to do, but he manages it.

Tyler sets the antiseptic aside, scoots closer. Then he does something the researchers never did. "Can I touch you?"

Josh's hands are still shaking as he clenches them in the quilt, but he grits his teeth and nods his head. The animal within snarls as Tyler gently tugs up the leg of Josh's boxer shorts to reveal the entire bandage.

It's an ace bandage, wrapped tightly around his upper thigh. Josh knows he's wounded, knows it wasn't pretty, but he hasn't really seen it since the day it was inflicted. He definitely knows he wasn't the one who applied this bandage.

Tyler unwinds the wrappings, carefully pulling aside the padding over the cut, and there it is. A red-purple-black seam stretching a few good inches across his thigh. It's been sealed with several tiny, nimble stitches.

"Eleven," Tyler says, like he can read his mind. Josh hopes to God that he can't. "I'm going to use the antiseptic now. It's gonna sting, but I'll apply the cream after and it'll feel better, okay?"

Josh nods his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek, which is already raw from yesterday. Tyler soaks a cloth with antiseptic and presses it to the wound; Josh tastes blood in his mouth, and fuck it hurts, less of a shock than when it was first inflicted, but stinging sharply, like it's being torn by a thousand tiny teeth.

Tyler cleans all eleven stitches, and Josh swallows his pained whimpers.

The topical cream stings when he first applies it, too, but the sting slowly grows warm, almost soothing, and Josh's tense muscles relax a little as the pain eases off into something much more bearable. Tyler must see his fingers unclench in the quilt, because he hums again and says "There we go," like he knows how much it was hurting him.

Tyler's hands are very gentle, very nimble; Josh has no doubt that he's the one who bandaged him in the first place, the one who gave him eleven tiny stitches. He doesn't really remember getting them, but if he shifts too much in his sleep, he can feel the pull.

After letting the cream dry for a minute, Tyler places some fresh padding over the wound. "Lift your leg up a bit," he instructs, and Josh does. Tyler unwraps a new ace bandage and winds it over and under, around and around Josh's thigh, until he's satisfied that it won't come undone. A little piece of yellow tape seals the deal.

Josh withdraws again as Tyler throws the packaging and used bandages in the trashcan in the corner. There's a glass of water and two Advil on the bedside table, but Josh leaves them be for now, preferring to keep one eye on Tyler as he pauses by the door. "Need anything?"

He shakes his head. Like before, he mumbles a soft "Thank you."

This earns him a smile from Tyler, who slips out the door as swiftly as he entered. Again, Josh is left alone.

Only then does he let his guard down. Carefully, he tucks his legs back beneath the quilt, resting against the pillows for a moment.

He doesn't get it. Tyler was there when the animal lost control. Seeing the animal at all was an awful experience, Josh knew well, yet Tyler hadn't tried to kill him or even flee. And after, when he was morphing back, Tyler didn't run off. He stepped back, gave him his space, but came close when Josh was himself again, draping his naked, shaking frame in his coat.

Tyler hadn't freaked out like any other person would, which meant one of two things. Either he's working with the researchers, and he's seen this before... or he's just not easily phased. As unlikely as it is, Josh is desperately hoping for the second one.

At least Tyler hasn't hurt him yet. The researchers probably would have by now, considering the state he left their facilities. Considering that he ran away.

Thinking about it makes Josh feel sick. He's not tired, but he needs something to do, something to distract him, so he fumbles with the nightstand for a moment before pulling open the little drawer on the front. Inside is a single paperback book.

Gingerly, as though afraid he might break it like fine china, Josh removes it from the drawer and shuts it behind him. Fuck, if it's Hound of The Baskervilles or White Fang or The Call of The Wild he's going to scream, because that'd be just his luck, wouldn't it?

It's Hamlet. Thank fucking God.

Josh keeps his ears sharp for any sort of disturbance--notably, Tyler or his dogs--but neither come for him. He spends two hours reading the entire book, cover to cover, then flips through it and reads pages at random, relishing each word.

It's been a long time since he's had any reading material. He wasn't much of a reader before, but it's exhilarating now; the novelty of it is something special, something treasured that Josh keeps close to him. Things like books, newspapers, and magazines weren't given to him at the facility, and he had no means of finding any.

When he finally sleeps, Josh tucks the book under his pillow.

He thinks his injury is feeling better the next time he's up. He still doesn't know how long he's been here--there's a clock on the nightstand, but it doesn't have the date.

The house is quiet this evening, prompting Josh to restlessness. He needs to know where he is, what Tyler's intentions are. He needs to know how much he knows.

Getting out of bed leaves a certain strain on his muscles, especially his leg, but Josh ignores it in favor of exploration. If he doesn't put his full weight on it, it's not so bad; he just can't move too fast, or push himself too hard, lest he tear his stitches open again.

He will if he has to. If it means the difference between freedom and imprisonment.

Shaking his head a little, Josh limps towards the bedroom door, using the wall as support. He's relieved to find that the door is unlocked, and he turns the knob slowly so as not to alert anyone to the fact that he's up and about.

He cracks the door open just a little bit, enough to determine that the dogs aren't in the hallway. Then he steps out.

The wooden floors are cold on his bare feet. He's only taken a few steps down the hall before he picks up some sort of sound coming from another room, quiet and rustling, like someone's looking for something.

Fear creeps its way up his spine, instinctual, and though the animal urges him onwards, Josh is afraid. He's afraid. He takes a step back.

He puts too much pressure on his injured leg, and sucks in a pained breath through his teeth. Okay, okay, so maybe he should have stayed in bed.

No, he definitely should've stayed in bed, because the rustling stops, turning to footsteps, turning to a figure at the other end of the hall. Before Josh can scream or lunge or lose control, the figure hurries down the hall towards him, and he recognizes that it's Tyler. 

"You shouldn't be walking on it yet," Tyler scolds. He seems to reach out to touch Josh, then thinks better of it.

"Restless," Josh breathes.

Tyler shakes his head a little, then stops. "I was about to put on a movie, if you want to watch with me. But I'll have to help you to the couch."

In that moment, there, Josh realizes Tyler's place in all of this without having to ask him. No one from the facility would have let him watch a movie, read a book, sleep in as late as he wanted. They barely even treated his wounds, much less gave him any painkillers. No, Tyler isn't connected with them. He's just... some guy.

"Okay," Josh says, quietly, giving permission, and only then does Tyler touch him. He slips one of Josh's arms over his shoulder, slips his own arm around Josh's, and carefully leads him down the hall, letting him lean on him as much as he needs to--which is more than Josh would like, unfortunately.

It's strange to be in a normal house, because this is clearly what this is. Tyler leads him into a living room, gets him settled on the couch, and even grabs him a blanket from the chair in the corner, which is good, because Josh is cold. Tyler sits next to him, perching on the very edge of the couch, not touching him. "Can I check on your stitches?"

The animal bares its teeth, but Josh says yes. He stretches his leg out, foot resting on the coffee table as Tyler unwraps the bandages. He huffs a little sigh once they're all off; his stitches are fine, though he's stretched the skin around them a bit. Tyler applies some more topical cream, then wraps it all back up. 

"Thank you," Josh tells him, because he feels like he should. Why is Tyler doing this?

Tyler looks like he's about to reply, but a sudden beeping from the kitchen makes Josh jump. Tyler gets off the couch. "Crap, I forgot I was making popcorn. It's okay, it's just the microwave."

And then Tyler goes into the kitchen. And then, Josh is alone.

The animal seems to think this is a perfect time to escape. It has little regard for his current shoddy physical state, nor the fact that Tyler's been kind to him so far and he might just come after him if he left anyway.

Admittedly, the possibility of being outside again tempts Josh, if only because he's spent several months trapped indoors. He knows better, though, than to run off. He probably wouldn't even make it to the front door, if he could find it. He doesn't know the layout of Tyler's home.

Tyler's back with the popcorn after a minute, anyway. He sits on the couch again, this time with a safe amount of space between them, and sets the bowl full of popcorn in that space. He pops a piece into his mouth, grabs the remote. "Help yourself."

It's been so long since Josh has had food like this that it makes him even hungrier than usual. He eats it piece by piece with shaky fingers, scarcely chewing one bite before moving on to the next. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the sandwiches, but this is junk food. Josh knows he's not in heaven, but it does feel like he is for a few minutes.

Once the bowl's about half empty, he makes himself slow down, feeling a little bad for eating most of it. Tyler doesn't seem to care, though; his eyes are on the TV. Josh didn't even ask what movie they're watching, but after a bit he realizes it's one of those shitty direct-to-video horror films where a bunch of sharks start walking on land and, like, eating people. The CGI is bad, the plot is nonexistent, and the actors can't act, but it's the first movie he's seen since forever, and he watches.

The popcorn's finally gone by the time the credits are rolling. Tyler frowns at the TV for a second before shutting it off. "Well, that sucked."

Josh lets himself study Tyler for a moment. He's reclining on the couch, back against the pillows, feet up on the coffee table. Josh doesn't understand how he can be so relaxed when he's only a few feet away, when they both know what Josh really is.

He wants to grab Tyler by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. "Were you expecting better?" he says instead.

Tyler stretches his arms above his head like a sleepy cat. "Not really. I have a love-hate relationship with crappy movies."

A bark suddenly rings sharp through the otherwise peaceful scene, and Josh flinches. It doesn't sound like it's coming from inside the house, but still, the idea of not being able to run combined with being in the same room as a large, unfamiliar dog is alarming.

Josh tends to have an effect on animals, one that the researchers have put to the test a few times. Most are frightened of him, but a few have shown aggression or even tried to attack him.

Which sucks, because he used to love dogs.

"It's getting late," Tyler says, and it is. The clock above the TV tells him it's almost eleven. "I've gotta let the dogs in."

He starts to stand up, but Josh reaches out with one arm, stammering. "I- wait-"

Tyler waits.

His arm is warm through his flannel shirt. Josh doesn't know if he wants to recoil at the feeling or grab him like he never wants to let go.

"I," he starts, then stops, and tries again. "How many dogs do you have?"

Tyler blinks. "Seven."

"Seven?"

"Yeah." Tyler shrugs a little, as though embarrassed. "They weren't all my fault. Some of them just showed up and didn't have anywhere else to go."

"That- It's fine, it's just-" Josh swallows. "It's just a lot."

Tyler seems to understand, then, what Josh is feeling; or at least he tries to. "They're all good dogs, I promise. If you want, I can help you back to bed before I let them in."

Another bark rings out, followed by a scratching sound that sends a shudder down Josh's spine. "Yeah. Please."

Tyler lets Josh lean on him again, all the way into the room he came from. Once Josh is safely sitting on the bed, Tyler steps back. "I'm gonna let 'em in and get 'em situated, but I'll be back, okay? It's gonna be a cold night, but I think I can scrounge up some sweatpants for you."

Josh swallows again, nods, and tries to steady himself. Tyler leaves.

He tries to repress his sensitive hearing when he's in his human state, but now, Josh lets himself listen. He can't see Tyler, but with his eyes closed, he can hear him cross the house, open a back door, hear the woofs and yaps of multiple dogs. He can hear Tyler talking to them, too, pouring some food for them and petting them before he leaves them be in the kitchen.

He's back with the sweatpants soon after, handing them to Josh with a half smile. "Do you need any help getting them on?"

Somewhat embarrassed, Josh clutches the pants to his chest. "No, I'm fine."

It doesn't take heightened hearing abilities for Josh to pick up the sound of claws on hardwood. One of Tyler's dogs must have wandered away from the others; he swears he can hear its breath on the bedroom door.

Tyler glances to the door, then back to Josh. "Would you be alright with meeting one of the dogs if I'm here? They'll never get used to you if they don't get to see you," he adds, apologetic.

Josh glances to the door, too, tense. He pulls his legs up onto the bed, slowly, and he knows Tyler's right, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it. "Animals don't like me."

"Mine will," Tyler says, sounding very certain. "They're good dogs. I like you, so they'll like you."

Josh doesn't even bother to question why Tyler likes him, because he doubts he'd understand the answer. He just wraps his arms around himself and says, "Okay."

Tyler turns and cracks the door open, talking to the dog in a sweet voice. Thankfully, it's not barking or growling; Josh hopes that's a good sign. "Hey, you. It's okay, you can come in now. Be nice."

A brown and white pitbull pushes the door open the rest of the way with its nose, and Josh holds his breath as it looks at him for a long moment.

"Josh, this is Belle; she's a rescue. Belle, this is Josh. I guess he's kind of a rescue, too," Tyler adds, a sheepish look on his face. Josh doesn't have it in him to argue.

Belle approaches the edge of the bed. Anxious, Josh stays still as she sniffs his hand for a long moment before finally licking it. Her tail is low, like she's confused, but it's wagging. It's the first time since the facility that Josh has had an encounter with an animal that didn't end in some sort of violence.

Carefully, Josh pets her head, even scratches behind her ears. To his relief, Belle's tail just wags harder; she leans into his touch.

Tyler looks pleased. "She likes you. The others will, too."

Josh hopes he's right.

Chapter Text

Josh almost feels normal the next morning. Every other time he's opened his eyes, he's glanced to the clock to find that it's either late afternoon or evening, but today it's almost eight in the morning. Not like he had much of a sleep schedule before, but he decides to take it as a good sign.

There's a soft knock on the door just as Josh is limping out of the bathroom. He knows he needs a shower, but he's not sure he can stand up for that long on just his good leg. Maybe he could wash his hair, at least, but for the meantime, he just washes his face at the sink and pushes his curls out of his eyes.

Josh sits on the edge of the bed with a huff. "Tyler?" he says, just to be sure.

"Yeah, it's me," comes the muffled voice from the other side of the door. "I thought I heard you get up. I'm making toast if you're hungry."

"Sure." Josh hesitates, then stands back up and limps to the door, opening it. It's hard to tell if Tyler is surprised to see him on his feet or not. How does he always look like he just woke up?

"You wanna eat out here?" Tyler guesses, and at Josh's nod, he offers him his arm. "Here, lean on me."

"You don't have to," Josh says.

"No point in tearing your stitches open again," Tyler counters. "I don't know if you enjoyed it, but I'm not personally a big fan of repeatedly jabbing someone with a needle and thread."

Though the touch is still alien to him, Josh relents, leaning into Tyler's side and letting himself be led down the hall. "I don't remember much, just that it hurt."

"What else do you remember?"

Their footsteps make the wooden floor creak beneath them. Josh chews on the inside of his cheek, and says "Enough."

Thankfully, Tyler doesn't push him, just leads him into the dining room. Josh props his bad leg up on one chair while he sits in the other; Tyler, meanwhile, busies himself in the kitchen, moving from the fridge to the counter and back, then to the toaster.

It's so... domestic. It's so normal.

Except for Josh.

"What do you like on your toast?" Tyler asks him.

"Butter, I guess." Food's hardly on his mind right now. He looks away from Tyler, eyes scanning the room to pick up whatever details he can. "Can I ask you something?"

Tyler glances up at him from the silverware drawer. There's a butter knife in his hand. "Go for it."

"What's today's date?"

Tyler tilts his head to one side, as though considering. He glances to the fridge behind him; Josh realizes there's a tiny calendar pinned near the handle, among a jumble of other papers. "September sixth."

September. Josh's voice wavers a little when he speaks again. "And- the year?"

"2015." Now Tyler's face looks concerned, brows furrowed as he looks back to the silverware drawer.

A year. It's been almost a year since he last saw anything resembling home. It was late summer when the researchers approached him; August, maybe? He doesn't remember the specific date anymore, but it was definitely 2014. Josh has lost a year of his life.

Among other things.

He slumps a little in his chair, leaning back with a sigh. It doesn't feel real. Being out doesn't feel real, either. He doesn't know what to believe.

Of course, Tyler could be lying... but Josh can't think of a reason why he would. Begrudgingly, he thinks he might be trustworthy; that's not the same as trusted, but it's as close as he thinks he can get. Tyler doesn't know. He knows what Josh looks like, what he can be, but he doesn't know why.

Tyler sets a plate in front of him with two slices of buttered toast. Josh won't meet his eyes, afraid that his desperation--his despair--will be all too visible.

A deep woof startles him hard enough that he bumps the table, rattling the cup of coffee Tyler's brought him.

"'S okay," Tyler says, automatically, and for some reason he touches Josh's shoulder. Why is he comforting him? Why is he being nice to him at all? "It's just Belle. Do you mind if I let her inside?"

Josh swallows, but doesn't shrug him off. "No, that's fine. She won't jump on me, right?"

"She won't jump on you," Tyler assures him, glancing back to the kitchen; Josh is pretty sure there's a side door there. "But if she wants to come in, the others might, too."

That unsettles Josh, but he says nothing of it.

"They're good dogs, I promise." Tyler's voice is soft, almost gentle; more gentle than Josh expects or deserves. It's not entirely unwelcome, but it makes Josh feel a little shaky and he doesn't know why.

Tyler lets the dogs in. Belle comes in first, tail wagging, and though her ears flatten when she sees Josh--she still doesn't seem quite sure what to do with him--she doesn't seem aggressive, ignoring him in favor of drinking from one of the water bowls by the cupboards.

The rest of the dogs quickly pile in after her, and for a brief moment, Josh is so frightened by the idea of being trampled by the herd of them that he grips the edge of his chair, as if he could run if he wanted to (he can't). Each dog looks at him, some openly staring while others follow Belle's lead to the water bowls.

Big dogs, medium dogs, little dogs. Tyler definitely has a weird collection going on.

He looks sheepish when he shuts the kitchen door and turns back to Josh, but he doesn't say anything, just crossing the room to take a seat of his own at the dining room table. He's made toast and coffee for himself.

One of the smaller dogs, some terrier with brown patches, takes a few curious steps towards Josh, but Tyler makes that tsk! noise and the dog stops. It looks at Josh for a second longer before turning and approaching Tyler, hopping up on his lap and curling up like he owns the place.

"You have a lot of dogs," Josh says, finally, because it's the only thought in his head that isn't related to them tearing him to pieces.

Tyler shrugs a little, takes a bite of his toast. "I didn't plan to."

As the dogs settle around the room--near Tyler, mostly, watching Josh with wary eyes--Josh finally takes a bite of his toast, chewing slowly before swallowing and glancing to Belle, who's sitting at Tyler's feet, looking at him with big brown eyes. "You said Belle was a rescue."

"She is." Tyler glances to her, and the pit bull wags her tail a few times. "My first dog. I got her from the shelter."

Josh surprises himself a little with what he asks next. "What about the rest of them?"

So Tyler goes on, telling him about each dog in the order he came to have them. Originally, he'd just planned to have Belle, seeing as he needed company out in 'the sticks' (Josh still doesn't know exactly where they are, hasn't worked up the nerve to ask). But then Tyler's sister had come to him with a golden retriever.

"She trains seeing eye dogs," Tyler explained. "But Jim flunked the course." From across the room, watching Josh with big eyes and perked ears, Jim wags his fluffy tail.

Josh almost laughs. "How'd he do that?"

"Too easily distracted. Loves people too much. He's got rocks in his head." Tyler glances to Jim with a half smile. "I couldn't not take him. Besides, he and Belle got along really well."

So there was Jim, the doggy dropout. Then came Rusty, who had just shown up one day, emaciated and with no owner to claim him. "He was skin and bones when I found him," Tyler says. Rusty shows no signs of that now: he's the tallest of the dogs, a regal thing with glossy red fur that looks soft to the touch.

Then came Duke and Daisy, two miniature dachshund mixes that used to belong to a friend of Tyler's, who couldn't keep them when he had to move away. They look almost identical to Josh, two long, black and tan things with folded ears and pointed noses.

Then came Dawn, who was another rescue. Apparently she'd been taken from an abusive home; the shelter had tried to advertise in the local paper to anyone who would take her, but since she was an older dog as well as a Rottweiler, most people were too apprehensive or unable to adopt her. "They were gonna put her down," Tyler admits. Dawn, from her place across the room, rests her chin on the floor with a sigh. "But I have a friend at the shelter, and she told me all about her. You can probably piece together the rest."

Lastly is the little fox terrier settled on Tyler's lap, a younger dog named Ned. "My parents found him in their pool, but they don't have the time or the energy for him. He's a little pest," Tyler adds, scratching at one of Ned's ears. Ned wags his thin tail. "But he's a good dog, too."

"Yeah," Josh says, and he actually kind of believes it. The dogs seem to have settled more now, ignoring him in favor of cuddling up to Tyler or to one another. It's odd, maybe, that they aren't reacting to him as strongly as other animals have in the past, no matter how well-behaved they are.

Like most things in his life, Josh doesn't know what to make of it. He stays seated, instead, one eye on the dogs just in case. He eats his toast.

After, Tyler helps him limp to the bathroom, and he manages to wash his hair by sitting on the edge of the tub and using the showerhead. He still can't put his weight on his bad leg, and though he can stand on his good one for a short time, it's not enough for him to take a full shower. He does what he can.

Josh does what he can, and dresses into the sweatpants and t-shirt Tyler left out for him. He'd offered to help Josh shower, but he'd swiftly declined, uncomfortable with the idea of him seeing the scars scattered all over his body. From giving him stitches, Josh knows Tyler has seen a few, but there are others: on his other leg, his stomach, chest, back...

Coercion, the researchers learned early on, was not enough to make Josh give up control; to morph, as Tyler put it. Pain, on the other hand, was much more effective.

It's dumb, he thinks, how tired he is after he's clean and dressed, but he just is. Though Tyler had told him he could call for him and he'd come help him to the couch--presumably to watch another shitty movie--he ends up crawling back into bed, persuaded by the luxury of a comfortable place to sleep.

That comfort doesn't last long.

There are hands everywhere, grabbing at him, pulling him down. They've already managed to get the gag on him, not that it stops him from fighting. The opposite, actually; Josh writhes, twisting, striking out with his fist, his knee. A scream is building up in his throat, just as desperate to escape as he, but it can't.

There are too many hands, too many of the lackeys, the brute force that the researchers always call in for moments like these. Even as Josh rips free of the hand of one man, he's grabbed by another, arm twisted behind his back so hard that he cries out--as much as he's able to.

"Remind me why we can't sedate this bastard?" one of the lackeys spits, holding a hand over one eye. Josh is pretty sure he kicked him in the face.

"He needs to be fully aware for the experiment," the researcher by the door says in a tone that Josh would describe as kind if he didn't know better. "Otherwise we won't be able to draw it out."

"Wish we wouldn't in the first place," the lackey grunts. "That thing's not right."

That thing. That's all they care about. Not Josh, not the life he had before this or the life he could be living now, if he weren't here. He's just an experiment that went in a frightening direction, one that seems to be intriguing more and more researchers as time goes on. To them, he's not even a person.

Josh is still struggling, but he's vastly outnumbered, and he can't do much more than squirm as they drag him to the chair, tie him down. The lackey that complained is gone; he doesn't know where he went, doesn't care. All he can see is the researcher approaching him diagonally, curiosity in their face and a scalpel in their hand.

Josh's anger, already fueled by fear, turns to sheer panic. He tries to plead with them, but the gag around his mouth has been adjusted, and none of the sounds escaping his lips are intelligible.

The researcher gives him a sad sort of smile, like they don't want to do this, it's just the only way, you see? "I'm sorry, Mr. Dun," the researcher says, drawing closer. "But this is the most effective way to draw it out. It's in the name of science, you understand."

Josh doesn't give a shit about science, but that doesn't matter. The researcher smiles again, broader, and quick as a snake, plunges the scalpel into his thigh.

Josh screams.

The scream is real. The rest of his dream--being beaten, tied down, stabbed--is not.

The animal doesn't understand that.

It's awake, dragged from sleep the same way Josh has been, suddenly present in his mind. His ears are ringing, his body trembling from his head to his feet, his throat raw as if he's been screaming for hours. Just a dream, just a dream--

The bedroom door swings open, and Josh tries to scream again, but it hurts, comes out more like a yelp. Tyler's suddenly at his bedside, eyes huge, hands shaky.

"What happened?" he demands.

Josh can't answer him. His muscles are starting to ache, like they're being torn apart; pretty soon, they will be. His voice is little more than a rasp. "I-"

A tremor wracks his body like an earthquake, strong enough to rattle the bed, bringing a wave of pain with it. Josh swallows and clenches his fists tightly at his sides.

"What- You can't morph now!" Tyler says, gesturing frantically. "You'll tear your stitches open. It's too dangerous!"

Another tremor comes, stronger than the last, and Josh gasps. "I can't fucking- can't control," is all he's able to say.

Something in Tyler's face changes, like he's trying to make sense of what he's seeing. He reaches out, tries to touch Josh's arm, but he flinches away. Sweat is starting to form on his skin, his entire body preparing to reshape itself into something new, something awful.

The animal doesn't know it was a dream. The animal thinks it's in danger, that it needs to fight, run, hide from the researchers that torment it so. No matter how desperately Josh tries to explain, to calm it, it won't listen to him.

"Hold on. I think I can- if you can't control it," Tyler rambles, scrambling up on the side of the bed. "I think- let me try something, okay? To stop it before it's too late."

The animal wants to lunge at him, sink its teeth into his throat. Josh grits his teeth so hard it hurts; a tear runs down his cheek. Tyler's looking down at him with a pleading look in his eyes, and after a heartbeat, Josh realizes he's asking permission.

Permission for what, Josh doesn't know, but at this point he doesn't care. He can't morph. He won't.

He can't speak, either, so he nods his head frantically, a pained whine in the back of his throat. Somewhere in Josh's head, the animal snarls, and he can't see it, but he knows it's baring its teeth, saliva dripping from its jaws, lashing out like a cornered animal.

Without another word, Tyler tackles him to the bed. For what feels like the thousandth time, Josh screams.

He doesn't know what's going on, how this is supposed to help at all. The physical contact, after a dream with violence relating to such, feels like it's burning though his skin. Tyler's covering Josh's body with his own, heavy: no, not just covering. He's pushing Josh into the mattress like he expects him to sink through to the floor. His knees are on Josh's thighs, keeping his legs trapped, and one of his elbows is digging into Josh's ribs. One of his hands is covering Josh's mouth, dangerously close to his teeth.

What the fuck is he doing? He knows what the animal looks like, must know it could tear him apart effortlessly. Does he have a fucking death wish?

The animal is furious, writhing, eager to sink its teeth into Tyler, but Tyler's got him firmly pinned. Josh squirms, convulses, cries, but...

But he doesn't morph.

Over the next few minutes, the animal's rage dims from a forest fire to a simmering flame. The frustration is still there, perhaps, just beneath Josh's skin--it hurts not to morph when he's that close to doing it--but for whatever reason, the animal is slowly quieting. He's shaken, he's stunned.

"I'm sorry," Tyler pleads, over and over, like a prayer. "I'm sorry."

Eventually, it calms down enough for Josh to stop trying to shove Tyler off of him. He still trembles, but it's less of a full-body rattling and more like aftershocks. He's sweaty and exhausted and he hurts all over, but he's still himself. He's still Josh.

As he visibly calms down, Tyler relents more and more, loosening his grip to the point where he's no longer trying to keep Josh still. By the time he moves his hand from Josh's mouth, he's not trapping him at all.

He wants to speak, to say something--he's not sure what--but the words stick in his throat. Tyler is draped over him like a second skin, like a blanket, his face close enough that Josh can feel his breath, but far enough that he can still see his eyes.

"Try and match your breathing with mine," Tyler says, so gently for what they both just went through. They both lie quietly for a few minutes, Josh slowly regaining control of his body, of his mind. The animal has returned to its usual space in the back of his head, a mere observer. It's not trying to get out anymore.

Their eyes meet again. This is the closest they've been to one another, and by far the closest Josh has been to another human being in forever. His breathing is better, but his heart kicks up again, and it has nothing to do with the animal.

"Are you with me?" Tyler asks quietly.

Josh's throat is still raw. He gives Tyler a tiny nod instead.

What the fuck just happened?

Chapter Text

By the time the tremors have stopped completely, Josh feels like he could sleep for a week; which fucking sucks, because at this point he already may have. His thigh is aching again, too, more than it was before. He didn't morph, so the stitches are probably okay. It's more the muscle, this time, pushed and pulled too much while it's still trying to repair itself.

Tyler's still on top of him, but Josh doesn't have the energy to push him off. Besides, as strange as it is... it really is soothing. It's been so long since he was fully touched without malice or violence. Admittedly, the reason behind this touch is none too pretty, but the act itself, now, is kinder than Josh feels he deserves.

He thinks he might fall asleep, but he has too many questions. "How'd you know I was about to..."

"Morph?" Tyler guesses, and Josh nods. "It was either that or you were having some sort of seizure. You looked like you were really fighting it, though."

"I was," Josh mumbles, shutting his eyes. Tyler murmurs something under his breath--reassurance, maybe, Josh doesn't know, because he's fucking exhausted.

They both stay put for a while after that. Josh rests, tries to draw up whatever strength might be tucked away within him, but the animal tends to have control over that sort of thing, and it's not interested in sharing much. He passes in and out of sleep, waking with a start each time, as if there's something he needs to do once he's conscious again (there isn't).

Tyler tries to get up exactly once, but anxiety washes over Josh the moment he starts to move away. He fumbles, nearly grabbing Tyler's wrist before letting him go to just clutch at his sleeve instead. Tyler looks down at him with those big brown eyes.

"Stay?" Josh asks, and he shouldn't. He shouldn't ask Tyler to stay here because he's a monster, because hurting this person that has been so kind to him would be an unbearable crime. But now that he's readjusted to safe contact with another person... the idea of separating from that physically stings.

Tyler doesn't pull back, thank Christ. Josh feels humiliated enough for a lifetime already. "I was just going to make some tea. I'll bring it back for you, okay?"

Josh swallows, and gradually, it comes to him: another reason why he's reluctant to let Tyler leave. "Don't want to be alone right now."

The concerned look on Tyler's face softens a little. "Do you think you can make it to the couch?"

Josh nods, then sits up. Immediately, his vision swings, spots dancing in front of his eyes; his head throbs. He makes some sort of unflattering pained groan as he squeezes his eyes shut again.

He can't see, but he can feel Tyler's hand on his arm, like he's trying to steady him. "Good," Josh manages, swallowing thickly before opening his eyes again. The spots dance in his vision a little longer before gradually fading away. "I'm good. A little dizzy."

"Take it slow," Tyler tells him, and all things considered, Josh is inclined to listen.

It takes a few minutes for Josh to sit up fully, slide off the bed and lean on Tyler as he helps him out of the bedroom and down the hall. He feels sick to his stomach but hungry at the same time, and he's quickly developing a killer headache. Consequences of ditching the morph, he figures.

Tyler leaves him on the couch to make tea in the kitchen, even though Josh doesn't feel at all like drinking any. He sits very still on the worn furniture, head reclined, eyes shut in an attempt to make the world stop spinning.

A quiet, high sound pulls him out of it. Josh slowly opens his eyes, glances back and forth, but doesn't see anything. Again, he picks up the sound; it's almost like a whine, and it's coming from beneath him.

Josh dares to lean forward slightly, and realizes that a fluffy golden brown tail is sticking out from under the couch. He could only guess that it belonged to Jim.

There's no way Tyler's dogs didn't hear his screaming. Even besides that, most animals have a tendency to avoid him as much as possible in his normal state; during a morph, he'd be more inhuman. It frightens animals.

It frightens him. He's an animal, too.

"He'll come out after a while."

Despite Tyler's reappearance, guilt twists at Josh's gut as he leans back against the couch again. "He's got the right idea, hiding."

Tyler takes a seat on the couch next to him, hands him a steaming mug before taking a sip from his own. He shakes his head a little at Josh's words, but doesn't say anything while Josh tries the tea. He's not much for the taste, but it's warm, at least, and that brings a little relief to his worn body.

"Do you want to hide?" Tyler asks him.

Josh looks down at his lap. "I kind of am, aren't I? By being here."

"Do you have somewhere else you're supposed to be?"

A sickly laugh bubbles in Josh's throat, but he swallows it down. "You could say that."

"I'll guess it has something to do with the wound on your thigh," Tyler says, and Josh knows this must be his way of asking, but he can't talk about it. Not now, not now.

He takes a small sip from his tea, instead, before cradling the mug in his lap. "You should've hid, too."

Tyler just shrugs. "I could've, but then you would've torn your stitches open again, wouldn't you?"

He's not wrong. Something about this, though--about the way he casually discusses the other shape Josh takes, the suppressed morph--it sticks with him. "You should be afraid of me," he says slowly.

"What for?"

This time, Josh does laugh. "Why the fuck do you think?"

Tyler shrugs again.

"I could've hurt you," Josh tells him, and he hates it. He hates that he has to share space--a body--with it.

"You didn't."

Josh shakes his head in disbelief, but doesn't say anything else. They both sit in silence, each drinking their tea and drowning in their own separate thoughts for a few minutes. Eventually, Tyler finishes his drink and sets his mug on the coffee table, leaning back on the couch again. He's just close enough that their shoulders are brushing, and the anxiety gnawing at Josh's insides eases a little.

"How did you know that would work?" he asks. "The pressure."

"Used to work for me when I was a teenager," Tyler says with a little shrug. "I had a weighted blanket then, but I got better as I got older, so I don't have it anymore."

Josh blinks. "Used to work for what? For anxiety?"

"For the same reasons you needed it today."

"That..." he chuckles a little under his breath. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I can morph."

Josh balks. "You're kidding. You're not kidding?"

"I'm not kidding." Tyler looks confused now. "You didn't know?"

"No! No, I didn't know! How the fuck would I know that?" He clutches his mug of tea so tightly that his fingers hurt.

"I could tell when we met. It's more than just how you looked. It's like I can sense it." Tyler fidgets. "You really can't tell?"

"You can sense it," Josh repeats blankly. "That shouldn't be possible. It doesn't make any sense."

Tyler is staring down at his lap like a scolded little kid, hands folded, picking at a hangnail. "I'm sorry. I really did think you knew."

"It's impossible," Josh says, trying to connect all the pieces together behind his eyes. There's so many of them to analyze: every interaction they've had, every day he's spent here, every word. "Unless you- did they..."

"They?"

"Did someone do this to you? Did you run away?"

Tyler's brow furrows. "No?"

Josh swallows. He realizes pretty quickly that he just told Tyler what happened to him; admittedly, that's not the whole story, but it's more than he's told him before. "Oh."

"It's genetic. Developed when I was a teenager, same as it did for my dad. My brothers and sister, too." Tyler finally looks at him, concern pooling in his dark eyes. "You mean- you weren't born with it?"

Josh exhales, shaky. "No."

"Oh."

"I don't want to talk about it," Josh says, before Tyler gets the chance to ask any more questions. Tears are stinging in the corners of his eyes.

"Okay." Tyler seems to hesitate, then touches his arm. He's not grabbing him, or shoving him, or anything like that. Just touching. Maybe he's trying to comfort him; Josh can't tell. "I won't make you."

"I thought I was the only one," Josh admits, hushed. He's not sure he likes the idea of there being multiple people with the ability to morph out there in the world.

Tyler shakes his head, but fortunately seems to recognize his statement for what it is: a desperate diversion. "You're not. You're... different, I think, from the morphing I know. Like you haven't grown into it. Like it's off-kilter."

Great. Even among the freaks, Josh is a freak. "You're telling me."

It's embarrassing, somehow, that Tyler is apparently more in control of his animal than Josh is of his. The fact that Tyler even has a animal, that he can do this at all, is bizarre. He seems so normal. Compared to Josh, though, maybe anyone would.

He feels like something in his mind, or maybe his heart, has become bent. As upsetting and alarming as the information Tyler's given him is, Josh finds himself unable to part with him for longer than a few minutes; unable to be alone. He doesn't know if it's a side effect from the failed morph or not--he's never been able to back out of it before--but it's prevalent.

He keeps his mouth shut when Tyler leaves the room to put their empty mugs in the kitchen, but his anxiety spikes, and doesn't settle again until Tyler has returned. When he does, Josh wrings his hands in his lap, antsy, wanting to be near to him without knowing why, or how to ask, or if he even should.

"It's the contact," Tyler says suddenly. "Grounds you. Keeps you focused in the present, y'know?"

Josh swallows. "I guess."

From his place on the couch next to him, Tyler lifts one arm, and without a word, Josh burrows into his side. The itching beneath his skin starts to settle again, despite his instinct.

He wonders if he'll ever feel normal with physical contact ever again.

Tyler puts something on TV--Josh isn't paying attention, so he doesn't know what--and they stay where they are for a few hours. Tyler does get up a few times to do quick things, but he always comes back, and he always silently invites Josh to cuddle up against him again.

And Josh does. The animal is confused, ears flattening, head bowed, but it doesn't snarl. It doesn't bite.

After a while, Tyler heats up some leftovers in the microwave for them, and they both eat. Josh attempts to concentrate on the plate in front of him, but there's too much going on in his head, and he barely tastes what he's eating.

The clock ticks: six, eight, ten. Josh is feeling calmer now, more settled in his own skin, but when Tyler nudges him a bit, he jumps. The animal snaps at him, angry that he let his guard down. "What?"

"If you're tired, I can help you back to bed," Tyler offers. He pats Josh's arm pointedly; he's been leaning on Tyler pretty much the whole time, but only over the past hour has he started feeling sleepy. He must have almost drifted off.

The idea of being alone again unnerves him. Josh shakes his head.

"At least come get ready for bed," Tyler coaxes, and Josh relents. He can do that, right? All he has to do is brush his teeth, really. He's still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt Tyler lent him previously, and they're comfortable enough to be considered pajamas.

He brushes his teeth after Tyler promises to wait outside the bathroom for him to finish. He goes pee, too, washes his hands and face. Josh squints at his reflection in the mirror, and he scrubs at the dark circles beneath his eyes; not that it helps much.

He almost lost control today. He can't let that happen again.

Tyler's where he left him, sitting on the edge of the bed. After a second, Josh notices his drooping eyelids, and his relaxed posture. 

"Tired?" he asks quietly, very aware of how that's his fault.

Tyler yawns, nodding. "You?"

"Sort of." As he limps forward, Tyler reaches out an arm, but Josh waves him off; he makes it to the bed on his own, sitting a little bit away from Tyler.

"Only sort of?"

Josh glances to Tyler, and it's... odd, how he can read Josh's apprehension so well. Not that he's trying very hard to hide it. Tyler's not just making conversation; he's giving him an opportunity to explain.

He doesn't want to, but he does. "I had a nightmare. That's why I almost... I woke up and... I was freaking out."

"It's okay." Tyler doesn't touch him, but he gives him a crooked little smile. It's almost endearing. "Whatever you were dreaming about, it won't get you here."

Josh huffs, more out of embarrassment than frustration. It was a nightmare; most people can manage those without completely losing what makes them human. "You sound so sure."

Tyler lifts his chin a bit, almost defiant, and he's so unthreatening in appearance that Josh nearly laughs. "It'll have to get through me first," Tyler says, then scratches the back of his neck. "And the dogs."

Josh shakes his head a little. One person and seven dogs isn't enough to stop the people at the facility, though he'll admit he knows very little about Tyler's own morphing. He could slow them down, maybe, but they'd get through to him in the end. They always did; they always do.

"I can't go back to sleep," Josh says after a moment. "If I have another nightmare, I might morph."

Tyler seems to consider this for a moment before speaking again. "What if I stay with you, then? I can wake you up if you look like you're dreaming."

"Is that a good idea?" Josh frets. "What if I morph and you can't stop it?" What if he hurts him?

"I'll manage." Tyler nudges Josh's shoulder with his own, light. "I can morph, remember? I know what it's like. I can get out before it gets that far."

Josh hesitates. The idea of having company does sound nice... He was frightened of human contact at the facility, as it only ever brought pain, but here, it's different. Here, Tyler has treated his wounds and brought him food and helped him get around. He helped him stay human; as human as Josh can get, anyway.

Tyler's seen what he can become, and it doesn't bother him, because he can become something else, too.

"Okay," he relents. Quieter, grateful, he adds, "Thank you."

They share Josh's bed that night, sleeping apart, but close enough that Josh doesn't feel so alone anymore. When morning comes--when he wakes--Tyler is still there, hair mussed, eyes shut, half covered by the quilt draped over the both of them.

Josh is still wary, and he doesn't trust him. But he wants to. He does.

A week passes this way. They share a bed, and Tyler helps Josh move through the house, settling him on the couch during the day so that he doesn't have to be cooped up in the bedroom by himself. 

Tyler has work on the weekdays. Josh doesn't know what he does, but it's some kind of physical labor; he can see how worn out Tyler is when he gets home, though he always smiles when he sees Josh is waiting for him and asks him how he's feeling.

Being alone during the day would be worse if the dogs weren't there. Josh didn't think they'd ever be comfortable around him again after the failed morph, but the next day, they stayed in the same room with him as Tyler made breakfast. After that, they keep their distance, but no longer try to hide when he's around. 

The first day Tyler goes back to work, Josh is terribly anxious, even though he told him he'd be fine. He couldn't keep Tyler from his job forever, so he lied and said he'd watch TV until he got home.

The TV is on, but he's not watching it. Josh is sat on the couch, bent at the waist, head between his knees as he tries to keep it together. If he freaks out too much, he'll morph, and that's the last thing he should be doing right now. Not without Tyler to coax him out of it.

A whine draws his attention after a few minutes, and he lifts his head to see Jim, the seeing-eye dropout, sitting a few feet away and looking at him with big brown eyes. He perks up when Josh looks at him, lifting one paw like he's trying to tell him something.

"It's okay," Josh rasps, even though he's not so sure. At the sound of his voice, Jim stands up and walks the few paces to Josh's side, sitting down again. Now he's leaning against Josh's good leg, tail wagging a little. Josh reaches out, hesitant, letting Jim sniff his hand; the dog licks his hand.

For the rest of the afternoon, and every afternoon that Tyler has work, Jim stays by Josh's side. Whenever Josh starts to get too stressed out, Jim will rest his head on Josh's knee, or jump up next to him on the couch, or put his paw on Josh's leg until Josh gives in and pets him. 

He may not be great at helping the blind, but he's a hell of an emotional support animal. 

Tyler looks particularly pleased when Josh tells him this. It's after dinner and they're watching a movie, Josh leaning into Tyler and Jim leaning into Josh.

"He's a good boy," Tyler croons at Jim, who wags his tail hard when Tyler pets him. "I'm glad he's helpful. I was worried 'bout you when I went back to work."

Josh glances away from the TV to Tyler, who has to lean into his space to scratch behind Jim's ears. "You were?"

Tyler shrugs a little, almost sheepishly. "Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Tyler was worried about him. Tyler worries about him when he's not around. He cares about him, in some shape or form. Josh doesn't understand why.

Josh doesn't understand why, but he'll allow it.

Chapter Text

Josh's injury heals to the point that Tyler removes the stitches. It hurts, a fierce burning that's almost worse than when the wound was fresh, and he doesn't realize he's clutching Tyler's arm until he opens his eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, letting go, but he's already left five sharp crescent moons in Tyler's skin from where his fingernails were digging in.

"Almost done." Tyler is too focused on the task at hand to bother looking at his own arm, instead carefully applying salve to Josh's skin. "It's gonna be itchy for a while, but I don't think it's gonna tear open again. You should be good to go," he finishes, leaning back with a satisfied look on his face.

Good to go where? If he can walk by himself without risking injury--and he can, even if it does ache a little--then he should be able to take care of himself, right?

Does Tyler want him to leave? If he does, where will Josh go?

"No morphing for another week at least," Tyler adds, tossing Josh's old bandages in the trash. He unwraps a much smaller one, carefully applying it over the worst of the wound. "That would probably screw it up."

"Wasn't planning on it," Josh says, which makes Tyler snort.

There's a question in the back of his mind, one he's had for a while now, but hasn't had the guts to ask. He knows Tyler's home is outside of town, on the edge of a forest--the very forest he found Josh in--but he doesn't know where that forest is, exactly. 

"Can I ask you something?"

He brings it up when they're watching TV on the couch. Tyler's lounging, relaxed, feet propped up on the coffee table, and Josh is sat next to him, similarly stretched out. One of Tyler's hands is resting on Josh's knee, which feels almost weirdly intimate, even though he knows it isn't. Tyler's just offering comfort because he knows it keeps him calm. He probably just hasn't readjusted to physical contact yet.

There's a commercial for cat food on the TV; Ned is sitting on the floor in front, watching the screen, and he lets out little growls whenever a cat appears. It's kind of funny, but Josh will admit that he jumped the first time it happened.

Tyler's hand rubs circles into Josh's knee lazily; Josh is very aware of how strange this should be. Honestly, it's nice. Just nice. He can't let himself enjoy it too much.

"Sure, what's up?"

The cat food commercial ends, and Ned lays back down, looking disappointed. Josh gives it another second before he asks.

"Where are we?"

He chances a look at Tyler, who raises a brow at his question. "Where?"

"In the world," Josh clarifies, looking back at the TV again. It's hard to meet Tyler's eyes when he talks about things like this; not that he does that very often.

Tyler hums a little. "Montana."

Josh can't help the sound of surprise that escapes him. "Montana?"

"Yeah. About an hour outside Garrison, if that means anything to you."

Josh just shakes his head slowly. "I- No. Montana?" he repeats in disbelief.

"Montana." Tyler is fully looking at him now, and he's wearing that concerned look he gets whenever Josh shows confusion or distress about the time he's lost. The time Tyler doesn't know or understand that he's lost. "Why? Where did you come from?"

He shakes his head again, a little quicker this time. "Not here."

There's a brief pause between them. Eventually, the hand on Josh's knee squeezes, and he looks up. Tyler is looking right back at him. "I know you don't want to talk about wherever you were before... Can you tell me where you're originally from? Where you grew up?"

Thinking about home makes Josh's ribs ache. He leans back on the couch again, eyes to the ceiling. "Columbus. That's where I was, and where I'm from."

"Columbus, Ohio?"

Josh pictures the city and the suburbs, the house where he grew up, the frozen custard shop that he and his sisters used to go to. He doesn't know where they are now, or if they're thinking of him the way he does of them. "Yeah."

Josh has no way of knowing where they took him, but he does remember being knocked out, and waking up in a new place. Did they really take him all the way across the country?

Or did he drag himself here?

Tyler acts a little off for the rest of the day. It's hard to pinpoint exactly what's wrong, if wrong is the right word for it. He doesn't seem upset or angry or anything, just slightly off kilter.

He's clingier than usual, which is kinda saying something, because despite the fact that Josh hasn't felt the desperate urge to morph again, they keep up their physical contact thing. For Josh, it's a bit of a preventative measure; he doesn't get to the point where he freaks out, and since he's not freaking out, he doesn't lose control. 

It's also extremely addicting to be touched without malice after so long suffering the absence of it. It's easier for Josh to just insist that it's about preventing another morph.

Whatever the case, Josh finds Tyler seeking him out again and again throughout the day. He doesn't have work, so they watch TV and play MarioKart, the latter of which is especially thrilling to Josh, who hasn't had access to video games for a long time.

It's slightly difficult to concentrate on the game when Tyler's all over him, though. It never crosses into anything that could only be romantic or sexual, but just thinking about that in passing sends a prickling feeling up Josh's spine.

Tyler sits right up against him, leans his head on his shoulder, nudges Josh's knee with his own when he makes a joke. Later, when they're both lounging on the couch while another stupid horror movie is on, Tyler actually falls asleep against Josh, leaning heavily into his shoulder, his face pressed to the space between Josh's neck and the back of the couch. This flusters Josh, to say the least, but he doesn't want to disturb him, so he doesn't say a word.

He's too alert to nap himself, so he's still awake when Tyler yawns an hour later, lifting his head. "Oh, sorry, dude. I didn't mean to smother you."

"'S okay." Josh chews on the inside of his cheek, watches the credits roll on the movie. "The surfer dude you didn't like got eaten, by the way."

Tyler grins, and it makes something in Josh's chest stir. He's not going to let himself think about this, not now, not today. "Awesome."

He's only been awake for about five minutes before he's leaning into Josh's space again, resting his forehead on his shoulder. Josh starts slightly, not enough to throw Tyler off, but enough that he must notice, because he speaks again. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Josh says, like before, and it is. It's just foreign, still. "Are you okay? You've been..." He tries to find the right word. "Drowsy all day."

"Yeah." Tyler lifts his head this time, leans back onto the couch, reclining. He looks so comfortable that Josh is lulled by the sight of him, at least until he hears what Tyler says next. "Would you be alright by yourself for one night? Theoretically."

"Theoretically?" Josh glances to the floor; Jim is laying at his feet. The idea of sleeping without Tyler to wake him isn't great, but he thinks he can do it. He thinks. "Yeah. Why?"

Tyler scratches the bridge of his nose. "Haven't morphed since before you showed up. It's starting to get to me again."

Now a chill washes over him. "You're going to morph? Like, on purpose?"

"Yeah. Gotta do it every once in a while, otherwise I get thrown off. Don't sleep well, crazy appetite, a little on edge. Restless." A pause. "Is it like that for you?"

Josh keeps his eyes on Jim. Slowly, he says, "I haven't been this long without morphing since I started."

Tyler doesn't try to talk, just hooks his ankle around Josh's from his spot on the couch. It's not a traditional method of physical comfort, per se, but it is nice.

"I normally morph once a week, on one of my nights off," Tyler eventually says. "I'll be outside, okay? I won't stay out all night, just a few hours."

Josh pictures himself, back pressed against the kitchen door, heart hammering as an animal not unlike his own tries to get into the house. He chews on the inside of his cheek again, harder this time, but this is Tyler's house. It's Tyler's house, and his being here is keeping Tyler from his usual routine. Tyler probably wouldn't morph if he asked him not to, but the guilt gnawing at him keeps him from refusing. "I'll stay inside, when you do. If that's okay."

"Yeah, 'course it is." Tyler nudges Josh with his foot, a slight but growing smile on his face again. "So, what're you thinking for dinner? I've got a frozen pizza I can throw in the oven."

They do end up eating the pizza, plus some salad; Josh loads his with croutons and ranch dressing until Tyler laughs and says it's more toppings than lettuce. Tyler's salad, on the other hand, is tragically bare. They end up mixing the two together in a big bowl and sharing it with plastic forks.

The sun goes down. It gets dark. Tyler gets up from the kitchen table.

Josh watches, nervous, as Tyler paces a little. The dogs are especially attentive tonight, sitting around the room and watching Tyler intently. They must be able to sense it, somehow, the way animals can sense earthquakes and tsunamis. Natural disasters.

Eventually, Tyler stops near the back door, facing away from Josh, but he talks to him anyway. "I'm gonna strip," he says, and yeah, Josh realizes pretty quickly that he's unbuttoning his flannel shirt. "And then I'll step out. I'm taking the dogs with me."

Josh averts his eyes, face hot. It takes him a second to catch onto Tyler's last statement. "Is that a good idea?"

"I usually do. They're good dogs." Tyler's shirt drops to the floor. "I'll leave Jim with you, okay? If you need anything at all, open the window and call for me."

"I'm- I'll be fine," Josh stammers, because now Tyler's unbuttoning his jeans and he should really get out of here. "Uh, I'm going to bed. I'll see you- whenever you get back?"

Tyler hums his agreement, and his pants drop. Josh books it for the bedroom, and Jim follows.

He shuts the door behind him with an embarrassed huff, back pressing against it. It's not that he hasn't seen Tyler in various states of undress since he arrived here; especially once they started sharing a bed, seeing as Tyler sleeps in just boxers and a t-shirt most of the time. It's different tonight, and he's not sure he likes it.

He's sure that he shouldn't like it, though, so Josh sits on the edge of the bed with a half sigh. Jim is there, tail wagging, and he pets him for a moment, quiet.

Only when he hears the sounds Tyler's making does he realize he's listening for them.

They're not unlike the ones he makes when he morphs: whines and whimpers and pained groans, each limb stretching, bones twisting and snapping and becoming something new. What differs from Josh's morph, though, is how quickly it's over with; it feels like it's only been a minute before he hears the low, eerie growl of an animal.

The curtains are open. If Josh looks, right now, he won't see Tyler. He'll see a predator, an abomination, an animal that knows no difference between right and wrong, good and bad. He'll see a monster.

A monster just like himself.

Josh looks.

The animal that is not Tyler stands on the back deck, head bowed as he pants, coming down from the rush of pain and overpowering adrenaline that morphing brings. Josh has only caught a glimpse of his own animal once, and it was an ugly thing, an unnatural one, but Tyler... he looks like he was made for this. He's not an amalgamation of different creatures shoved together. He's not a puzzle; he's always been one piece.

Wolf is the closest thing Josh can think of to describe it, but that doesn't quite fit. He's bigger, taller, the size of a small horse. His body is covered in a coat of dark fur, his long, almost catlike tail limp behind him. His ears are sharply pointed, as is his muzzle, which is low to the ground. His legs are too long to belong to a wolf, his shape too nimble. 

That narrow muzzle lifts, and Josh flinches, but he's not looking at Josh at all. He turns his head back behind him, making a huff sound that's deep enough and loud enough that Josh can hear it with the window closed. He watches with wide eyes as Tyler's dogs rush forward all at once, big and small, all shapes and colors and sizes, surrounding him. Josh almost expects them to attack... but they don't. They're greeting him with wagging tails and friendly sniffs--and Tyler, despite the fact that he's definitely not a dog, wags his tail just as fiercely.

It's bizarre to see how quickly Tyler has recovered from the morphing process, but frankly, Josh is too stunned by all of this to dwell on it. After another brief moment, Tyler turns his head back towards the forest, away from the house. He makes that huff sound again, higher, almost like a bark, and then he bolts into the trees, his dogs on his heels.

Just like that, they're gone. The only proof that they're even out there is the occasional bark or howl.

Josh jumps when Jim nudges his leg with his nose. He whines a little, like he wants to be out there with the others; he's jumped up on the bed, looking out the window with big brown eyes.

"Maybe you can join him another time," Josh says quietly, and he's not sure who he's talking to anymore.

After all he's just seen, it's impossible for Josh to sleep. He does lay down, though, facing the wall, head on his pillow and quilt draped over him. He lays down, and then... that's it. He shuts his eyes, but sleep doesn't come. Something in the back of his head is stirring, something Josh has only ever known as it or the animal, because that's what it is.

Tyler may make it seem almost natural, but Tyler and Josh are not the same.

It's not the threat of a morph, at least: it's restlessness, a slow ache in his chest that he doesn't quite have a name for. Almost like Tyler described it earlier.

He's still awake when Tyler and the dogs return, though he doesn't chance a glance at the clock to check the time. He hears several sets of pawsteps on the porch, Tyler's gasping breath as he returns to normal; morphing back hurts, but less so than the reverse, perhaps because it is a shrinking instead of stretching. 

The back door opens, then shuts. Only when Josh hears Tyler turn on the sink does he realize he's been listening intently, and he forces himself to stop. The animal--the source of his extra sensitive hearing--growls under its breath, but doesn't complain otherwise.

Eventually, the bedroom door creaks open. Josh doesn't move, doesn't breathe, laying very still with his eyes shut. He doesn't know why. Maybe he's not in the mood to talk, maybe he's tired. Maybe he's afraid.

Tyler shows no sign of knowing Josh is awake. He only lifts the quilt on his side of the bed, crawling beneath the covers. Almost immediately, Josh is overwhelmed by the smell of wet dog; perhaps it's snowing outside, and he got caught up in it. 

Josh should be repelled by the scent, probably, but he isn't. The animal, though wary, is suddenly interested--Josh can tell--but he shoves it away as best as he can, determined to go to sleep for real now. Tyler's back, they're both safe and in bed, and everything is as okay as it can be, considering the circumstances.

He thinks he really could drift off, except Tyler wordlessly tosses an arm around Josh's waist, inching a little closer into his space. They aren't pressed flush against one another, but still, to Josh, it's damn near enough.

Josh is awake for another hour before exhaustion finally wins out.

Chapter Text

It's... kind of weird, the next day. Josh gets up before Tyler does because his mouth is dry as a desert, and he forgot to refill the glass of water on the nightstand before bed. He's kind of warm, too; too warm to lay around under the quilt he normally uses.

Josh leans against the kitchen sink for a long moment, downing one glass of water and sipping the second, careful to put the brunt of his weight on his good leg so as not to strain the other. 

The click of nails on the floor alerts him to the presence of one of the dogs; it's Belle. She gets a drink of her own from one of the water bowls, eyeing Josh but not approaching him. He's becoming used to Tyler's dogs, he thinks. Jim is the friendliest towards him, while the others seem to prefer to stick to Tyler, unless Tyler is stuck to Josh.

Belle looks up from her drink after a few seconds, a few drops of water dripping from her mouth and back into the bowl. She just... she's just standing there. Looking at him. She's not wagging her tail, but there's no aggression in her body language. It's like she's not sure she recognizes him.

Josh is already antsy, and getting trapped in some sort of staring contest with a large dog doesn't make things any better.

Fortunately or otherwise, the person that has been haunting Josh's mind for at least the past twelve hours steps into the kitchen. Belle greets Tyler in the usual way, with a wagging tail and perked ears, and he pets her briefly.

"Hey," Tyler says. Josh doesn't know if he's talking to him or to the dog, so he doesn't answer.

They should probably talk about last night.

It's kind of funny, almost, the awkward air between them. If this were a comedy or a drama, they'd be awkward like this because they'd hooked up last night, or seen each other naked, or something. Even one of Tyler's shitty horror movies couldn't have come up with the situation they're really facing.

Josh tries to break the whole thing down in his head. Tyler morphed, by choice. His dogs didn't try to tear him to pieces once he was more animal than human. He ran off and returned in one piece, with his dogs safely in tow. Josh didn't see him in that form for long, but he seemed to be very much in control: he was guiding the beast, and not the other way around.

Josh has never been able to control it like that. It's a bitter thing, impulsive and reckless and desperate for freedom from the people that contained it, tortured it, for so long.

He doesn't know if it's a good idea or not, but he says it before he can back out. "I saw you."

Tyler looks up at him. He's kneeling on the floor, scratching behind Belle's ears; the pit bull looks completely content, completely at ease. She trusts him. She doesn't trust Josh.

Josh swallows. "Last night," he says. "After you..."

"After I morphed," Tyler finishes, and Josh nods.

It's hard, somehow to get the image out of his head. A dark-furred, wiry thing with sharp ears and teeth. Something out of a better horror film, one that might actually leave you afraid.

Tyler stops petting Belle, who glances at Josh before leaving the kitchen. Tyler gets to his feet, brushing dog hair off of his sweatpants before meeting Josh's eyes again. "And?"

"And?" Josh repeats, unsure what else to say. His feet are cold on the tile floor; his head aches.

While there's a few feet between them, it feels like Tyler's right up against him, breathing on his face. If this were a comedy or a drama, they might kiss; Josh feels stupid for even thinking about it.

Tyler shrugs a little. "And something's bothering you."

Josh has to take a moment to collect his thoughts. "I... when I morph, it's not like that."

Suddenly Tyler's hand is on his arm; he's moved to lean against the sink, next to Josh. He's touching him, but only to provide comfort. Only in the way a stranger soothes another. "Tell me about it. Your morphing."

"It's-" Josh breaks off, then starts again. "It takes longer, for starts. It takes longer for me to recover, too. And it hurts." Josh shuts his eyes, but he can still feel the searing pain of it; the twist of muscle and snap of bone. It feels like he's burning alive. "And I..."

Tyler's hand moves up and down his arm, rubbing. If Josh looks at him now, he's sure he'll see concern in his face. He doesn't look.

"I'm not in control," Josh manages, swallowing. "It's like I'm watching something else do those things. I don't have much say in it."

He expects Tyler to ask more questions, to try to get him to explain, but he doesn't do that. Instead, Josh feels a sudden warmth around him; arms wrapping around his middle, holding him. Tyler's hugging him.

Josh practically melts into it, despite the tension bleeding from his lungs. He hugs Tyler just as fiercely in return, allowing himself to press his face into Tyler's shoulder, letting out a shaky breath when one of Tyler's hands moves up to pet his hair.

It feels different. Josh knows it isn't, it can't be, but it feels like it is. He shouldn't hold onto that, but he does.

"I don't know why it's different for you than it is for me," Tyler whispers, soft as a secret, and just as sincere. "But we'll work it out, okay?"

"I shouldn't be here," Josh whispers back, guilt clawing at him.

"Where do you think you should be?"

"Somewhere else. Somewhere I'm not a burden on you." Tyler's arms feel so good around him that Josh is having trouble trying to think of the right word. "A handful."

"But I want you here," Tyler answers, "for as long as you want to be." He pulls back, just a little, just enough so that Josh can see the smile creeping its way onto his face. "And hey, I don't mind if you're a handful. I've got two hands."

Josh isn't sure whether he should cry or laugh. He makes a noise, though, somewhere in between both, and tries to pull it together.

Eventually they do split up, but neither goes far. Tyler's smile is warm, kind, but it dims slightly after a few seconds. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Didn't sleep well." Josh shrugs a little. "Still tired, I guess."

He's tired for the rest of the day, spending most of it on the couch. They watch two horror movies, both hilariously bad, but Josh is too worn out to partake in the laughing fits that Tyler falls into when there's a series of poorly done special effects.

He takes a nap in the afternoon, waking up just in time for dinner, and he's fucking starving, like he hasn't eaten all day; which is dumb, because he's been snacking on and off. Josh eats two bowls of chili, plus a piece and a half of that comes-in-a-box cornbread. Tyler actually gives him a worried look when he puts his dishes in the sink.

"Feeling okay?"

Josh tries to remember what Tyler told him earlier, that he wants him here, but it's hard. He knows something is wrong, stalking him slowly, the way a cat stalks a mouse, but he doesn't want to bring it up. He doesn't want to inconvenience Tyler. That, and the fact that he's just thinking about it makes the beast more restless than it already is.

"Yeah," Josh says, and Tyler doesn't push it.

They both go to bed--to sleep--but it doesn't last long. Sometime around midnight, maybe a few minutes after, Josh wakes in a cold sweat.

He didn't have a nightmare; at least, if he did, he doesn't remember it. It doesn't matter, though, because he feels it again. That tug, that urge to give up control. Josh sits up, clenching the sheets in his fist as the first tremor rattles his body.

It hurts. It hurts. Is this because he ditched it last time?

"Tyler," Josh manages, through gritted teeth.

From his place in bed, at Josh's side, Tyler makes an indiscernible groan.

A second tremor washes over him, worse than the last--sharper--and this time Josh gasps. "Tyler."

Another noise, then, and Tyler's sitting up, groggy. "Wha's up? Y' okay?"

Full sentences are already out the window. Josh shudders, and says, "Hurts."

Tyler shifts to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. Only as the golden glow washes over Josh, as his eyes adjust and he's able to actually see what's in front of him, does Tyler reset. He shakes off his drowsiness faster than Josh would've thought possible, dragging himself out of whatever dream or lack thereof he was just in.

Josh knows he's not a pretty sight. He's not sure when he started sweating, only that he's soaked to the bone with no sign of slowing down. His head throbs, his heart races, his muscles ache; and, again, there it is, that shaking, shattering feeling that tells Josh he's in trouble.

Again, Tyler shifts, this time to pull back the quilt, encouraging Josh to lay back down. "Lemme," he says, and even though the idea of being touched right now makes Josh want to hurl, he swallows it back. If it'll stop this--whatever sort of sickness the beast is infecting him with--he'll take it.

Tyler really is like a weighted blanket, in some ways. He's solid, warm, and gradually becoming familiar to Josh. But something's just wrong this time.

Josh is already overheating, but with Tyler on top of him, his temperature rises to sweltering. Whereas before he'd found it slowly draining the urge to morph from his body, tonight Josh only feels worse and worse, no matter how grounding Tyler is trying to be.

There's something else, too. Though Tyler's presumably showered since then, Josh can still smell that wet-dog scent clinging to his clothes, the bed. The beast can smell it, too, and it thrashes within him, trying to tear Josh to shreds so it can escape.

Freedom is a desire that Josh and the beast have in common. What the definition of freedom is, though, differs between them.

Tyler's so close and Josh can't handle it, he just can't. With the beast, Josh writhes, pushing at Tyler, frantic. "Let me up. Let me up, please."

He's not sure what he expects, but Tyler does as he asks without a word. Josh scrambles away from him, onto the floor, back against the bedroom wall, breathing hard. The pain eases, and for a moment, he thinks he might be able to get out of it.

But, no. It swallows him up again, just as fierce as before, and Josh feels like he's suffocating. Pain is racing up and down his spine, his hands are shaking, and his vision is getting blurry on the edges.

"Gotta," Josh manages, but he doesn't finish, because his back arches and it fucking hurts. If he stays here any longer, he won't be able to stand, and he has to be able to stand--to walk.

He won't risk Tyler's safety any more than he absolutely has to.

"Help me up," he pleads as Tyler slips off the bed, crouching in front of him, and again, Tyler does what he's told. The touch is burning, but he allows it; Tyler helps his quaking shape off the floor, down the hall. Josh points a shaky hand to the kitchen, and thank god, Tyler understands. He leads him there with as little touch as possible, helps him sit down on the cold tile.

"It's my fault," Tyler says, so quietly that Josh isn't sure he heard him. "Being around someone who's recently morphed can- it's hormonal. I should've held off."

Josh tries to tell him something--maybe that this would've happened anyway, one way or another--but it comes out as a high whine. He's too far in. He's going, going...

Gone.

Morphing is like burning alive on a good day. Tonight, Josh feels like he's a solar flare: sharp, white hot, and uncontrollable. He's barely able to push Tyler away from him before he fully collapses on the floor, seizing and twisting and changing.

Bones elongate and teeth sharpen. Hair turns to fur, nails turn to claws. When Josh screams, it's not his voice; it's animalistic, the shriek of a wild animal that's been shot down but is still alive.

It takes a while, he thinks, but he's not sure; he's got bigger problems than lost time. It takes a while for him to recover, too. He lays on the floor for a long time, just trying to breathe, to accept what's happened to him, to readjust to a new shape. A new body.

When the pain eases to something bearable--when the animal that is not Josh gets to its feet--it's the size of a grown horse, but it trembles like a newborn foal. Eyes adjust relatively fast to the darkness, pupils widening to draw in more light, and Josh can see again.

Tyler is standing on the other side of the kitchen, and Josh isn't in control anymore.

The beast lets out a low growl, tail low, fur ruffling along its shoulders and down its back. It bares its teeth, taking a single step toward Tyler, threatening. Even in its weak state, Josh knows it could tear Tyler into a million pieces. His pleas, though, are lost on the animal.

Tyler doesn't run. He doesn't attack, either, and he doesn't scream. He just... stands there. Looking at him. He's not shaking with fear or horror. He's just there. Staring right into the beast's eyes.

Never has it faced prey that didn't react to its might, and for a moment, the beast is confused. It flattens its ears, head moving slightly as it scents the air, and finally, it seems to recognize Tyler.

What, exactly, it recognizes isn't too clear to Josh. The wet dog scent of Tyler's morph, his own beast, is there, under clothes and under skin. The animal that is not Josh knows.

Its tail sweeps low over the ground, a growl in its throat, but it takes a step backward. Tyler keeps eye contact with it, unflinching even when it bares its teeth at him. The beast backs up to the other side of the kitchen, still fiercely defensive, but not attacking. Not freaking out.

At least, until the dogs start barking.

They were in the living room, Josh thinks distantly, when he and Tyler fell out of bed, but now they're here, standing in the entryway to the kitchen. They aren't growling at him, or snarling, but their tails are tucked between their legs and their ears are flat. The scent of fear floods the room, and the beast doesn't know if it's coming from Tyler or the dogs or itself.

Fast as lightning, it turns and slams into the back door of the kitchen. The first attempt is unsuccessful; the door trembles, but doesn't budge. The second attempt works, though, and the door mercifully snaps open. The dogs are still barking, high and afraid, and the beast doesn't know what that means.

It knows how to run, though. So, with a final glance at Tyler and the dogs, making sure they aren't following, it bolts out of the house and for the trees. 

The dogs howl, Tyler shouts Josh's name. The beast doesn't answer either of them. It just runs.

Chapter Text

Unlike the last time the animal that is not Josh ran, it isn't wounded beyond the typical pain of morphing. This is good, because it means it should be capable of running harder, faster, farther.

The only thing keeping it from doing so is inexperience. It stumbles over forest debris, and its limbs are too awkward to fall into an easy pace. Still, it covers ground. It flees.

By the time it slows to a stop, it's worn out. It's hard to say where it is, since it doesn't know the land or its features enough to have a mental map to follow. There's a creek, though, and it's tired, so it steps to the edge of the water and lowers its head to drink.

Just as its tongue meets the water, it notices a massive, dark shape reflected there, and it leaps back in surprise. Dread builds in its stomach, in his stomach, because this beast, animal as it is, is still Josh. Josh is still in there somewhere, and the outward appearance of this thing is even worse than he'd thought.

There weren't mirrors in the facility, or if there were, the researchers kept him separate from them. Now, leaning close, peering at his reflection, Josh gets his first real look at what he's become.

Much like Tyler, if he had to compare it to a known animal, he would say wolf. On Josh, though, this descriptor is even farther from the truth. It's like Tyler, but it isn't. Tyler's beast, perhaps, could be compared to a well-written and revised piece of literature; Josh is the ugly first draft.

His head is too big, limbs too long, fur almost like feathers. His coat is a flecked black, and there's a ridge down his back where it's longer, thicker. As his alarm grows, it stands on end, making him look taller; Josh thinks of Halloween decorations, black cats with backs arched, teeth bared.

His front legs are longer than his back ones, shoulders higher than his hindquarters, giving him an almost hunched appearance. His tail is puffed up with alarm, fur dark and tipped with black. His upper canine teeth protrude just slightly from his mouth, enough to be noticeable but comparatively not terrifying.

The terrifying part is Josh's eyes. They're this pale yellow color, unnatural, with slits for pupils. He'd always thought there'd be some part of him that would come through when he morphed, something human. But now, as Josh stares into his reflection, shaking, he sees nothing familiar at all.

Josh wants to go home. Josh hasn't seen home in a long time now.

The beast is still set on getting out of here, wherever here is, but something is stopping it. It's not Josh, despite his frequent attempts to regain control; the beast largely ignores him now that it doesn't have to give him a moment of its time.

It's something about the forest. Stepping away from the creek, the beast lowers its head to the ground, big black nose twitching, jaws just slightly parted. Something clicks. That's Tyler it smells. The animal that is not Tyler, and his dogs, were here just last night. The scent is relatively fresh.

An odd sort of anxiety claws at its chest. If it can smell Tyler, it must still be on Tyler's property. The idea of trespassing in general isn't what concerns it: it's the idea of trespassing on the land of an animal much like itself, one stronger and healthier with a pack of its own. Josh doesn't have a pack. Josh is alone.

The beast growls quietly, ears flattening as it walks along the edge of the creek. With each long stride, it keeps its nose close to the ground, both fascinated and distressed by the smell.

Wet dog.

It has never met another animal like itself. Before escaping the facility, it thought it was the only one like it in the world. The last of a species; or perhaps the twisted beginning of a new one.

Ultimately, the fear of eternal solitude wins out over the fear of rejection. The beast isn't entirely sure of the way back to Tyler's cabin, but it tries to retrace its steps. 

It must be at least close, because before long the scent of Tyler drifts towards it, closely followed by the soft thud of footsteps on damp earth.

A fresh spike of anxiety rears its head, and the beast takes a step back, bumping into a tree. It releases a quiet snarl of frustration, of bitterness at a lack of coordination, not to mention its lack of planning. It's at the bottom of a small slope, and it can hear Tyler approaching from the top. This is not an ideal position.

Too late, though. With caution, a familiar shape steps through the undergrowth at the top of the slope, cloaked in flannel and jeans and a beanie that hides short, fluffy hair.

The beast bares its teeth. Tyler doesn't flinch.

"Josh," he says, a statement. The animal that is not Josh growls at him.

Without another word, Tyler carefully removes the rifle strapped to his back. He had this rifle when they first met, too; Josh supposes he keeps it with him when he's out in the forest, at least while he's in this shape. It's easy to imagine mountain lions or bears stalking these woods, too, and he can't blame him for protecting himself.

The beast does not trust this, though, and it growls louder as Tyler holds the rifle, but he's not aiming it anywhere. He sets it down, actually, steps away from it; consequently, down the slope. Again, Josh is reminded of their first meeting.

He'd been sheltering in a shallow cave after hours of running. He'd been scraped up in his escape from the facility--he had to climb through some barbed wire at the top of the wall--but those injuries were like bee stings compared to the laceration on his hind leg. They did it to him to draw the beast out, as pain seemed to be the fastest and most efficient way to get Josh to lose control.

In the adrenaline rush that came with his escape, Josh's pain had been minor. Now, though, he was feeling it properly, and could drag himself no farther.

He didn't know how long he lay there, pained, desperately trying to sleep. What he did know, eventually, was the sound of footsteps on snow, and the dark, narrow shape of Tyler standing at the entrance to the cave, looking just as wary as the beast felt.

It snarled, teeth bared, sitting up, but it couldn't stand. At the time, it didn't matter; its greatest weapon was its massive jaws, and they were functioning well.

But Tyler had a weapon, too: a rifle, clutched in his hands. Slowly, without a sound, Tyler pointed the barrel of the gun to the snow, away from the beast. When it didn't attack him, he flicked the safety off.

He had to be insane, considering how vulnerable he'd just made himself. Now, Josh noted, trying to get back to the front of his own mind, they were on equal footing. He was wounded, and the stranger--Tyler--was unarmed.

They both stared at one another for a few seconds before Tyler spoke. "Hey there." His voice was soft, far from the hostility the beast was used to. He was talking like he thought it would tear him to pieces if he raised his voice. "You're hurt."

The beast bared its teeth, but it was more confused now than aggressive. There was some kind of pang in Josh's chest, sharper than a bullet; this person wasn't trying to kill him. He wasn't even trying to hurt him. He was just... trying to help.

It only took a second, but it was just enough. The beast faltered, hesitated, and Josh grabbed the controls. The beast snarled, writhed, but it was too late; Josh was morphing back to himself, here, in the middle of the forest, in front of a complete stranger.

By the time it was over, he was shaking like a leaf: from cold, from pain, from fear. He crouched on the ground, drawing in one trembling breath before letting it out and starting the process over.

But he wasn't alone. Something warm abruptly draped around his naked body, partially protecting him from the bitter cold. Tyler was on his knees next to him, and he'd given Josh his coat.

He doesn't remember walking to Tyler's cabin, because he's pretty sure he carried him. Now, Josh has fled that cabin--the place he's found warmth, comfort, shelter, and companionship--because he's no longer in charge. The animal that is not Josh is in charge, and it doesn't understand.

It doesn't understand why Tyler shows it his hands, palms out to show he has no other weapons. It doesn't understand why Tyler isn't running from it, and it doesn't understand why it hasn't pinned him to the ground and torn his throat open yet.

The beast growls when Tyler takes another step forward. Its instincts warn it to defend itself; it knows well that danger can wear a cloak of innocence.

"I know you're in there," Tyler tells it. It sounds too similar to the researchers; the beast bares its teeth at him.

They knew Josh was in there, somewhere behind the mask of the beast, and that was the goal. That was what they wanted: the shape of the beast and the mind of a man put together. Maybe they could make Josh morph, but they couldn't make him cooperate. They couldn't make him behave.

Some would flinch when he growled at them. Others threatened him. Tyler doesn't do either.

"You're not a dog," he says, still surprisingly soft. "So I won't treat you like one. And I won't make you come back with me."

It flattens its ears, but makes no sound.

"I'm going to turn around now, and go back to the house. You can follow me if you want." Tyler pauses. "If you don't... it's been nice having you around, Josh." He swallows, but otherwise betrays no emotion. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

True to his word, Tyler turns away from the clearing, heading back up the slope. And Josh--consequently, the animal that is not Josh--is left with a decision.

The beast still won't relent control, so Josh knows he probably won't have much say in this. Josh wants to follow Tyler, to morph back and let apologies fall from his lips: for being a handful, a threat, a monster. He wants to be human.

The beast doesn't trust Tyler, even if Tyler seems to trust it, and Josh doesn't expect it to even consider going back. But something makes it pause.

It's the rifle. As Tyler moves up the slope, he walks right past it without so much as a glance. It's his only current weapon against the beast; Josh is, as far as he knows, not immortal. Tyler could kill him with that rifle, maybe even in one shot. But he chooses not to. He chooses to make himself vulnerable, but for what?

Silently, hesitantly, the beast steps away from the tree at its back, and towards the closest thing it has to its own kind.

To his credit, Tyler doesn't even turn around. The animal that is not Josh follows slowly, concentrated on the figure in front of it, prepared to jump back or lunge if he makes any sudden moves. It keeps a good distance between them, beyond arm's reach but close enough that it won't lose him in the thick undergrowth.

Tyler stops once he's reached the house, taking a single step up onto the porch before glancing back. The beast just watches, having stopped at the edge of the trees.

"I'm guessing you don't want to come inside," Tyler says. It bares its teeth in reply.

Before Tyler can say anything else, a sharp barking erupts from the house, joined by a chorus of other canine sounds. The back door is closed, and the barking is muffled, but it's clear as anything to the beast. Tyler's dogs must be able to smell him.

It shies away, tail tucked between its legs, but then Tyler makes a sharp whistle, and the dogs go quiet again.

"They've never been around another morphed in that state before," Tyler admits. "Except for me."

And oh, that's right. Tyler can morph, too. Tyler can be just like this, albeit a more well-functioning version. Tyler can bite and snarl and bare his teeth, too.

Maybe he gets lonely, too.

Tyler quietly sits n the back step, arms folded and his hands draping between his knees. He doesn't call out to Josh, nor try to get him to communicate. Either he's incredibly patient, or he's crazy.

The beast stands at the edge of the forest for a long time, debating. Tyler's already turned his back to it, sat down nearby; he left his gun in the forest, for fuck's sake. He's being vulnerable, purposely, in front of an animal that could kill him in seconds.

It's curious.

Too curious to stand around forever. Eventually, it takes a single pawstep forward, watching for a reaction, but Tyler doesn't budge. The closer the beast gets, the more it realizes how small Tyler is in comparison to it. If he were to stand, the top of his head would likely brush the beast's chin, but here and now, Tyler does not stand, and he is small. Fragile.

Until he looks right at the beast. His eyes betray the truth.

It takes a single step back, hesitant, uncertain. It doesn't want to be looked at so intensely. It doesn't want to be touched.

But Josh does, and he takes this moment for what it is--an opportunity. He grabs control, and the beast fights him for it, but it's been shaken off. It's too late. Its whole body begins to tremble as it lowers itself to the ground, shrinking back into something human.

It hurts. Through the haze of it, Josh can see Tyler crouching at his side, can hear him say something. He has to repeat it twice more before Josh actually picks it up.

"Stay with me. It's okay. Breathe."

Josh breathes. It's about all he can do.

There's a buzzing in his head that doesn't fade for a while. Hard to say how long, exactly; though it doesn't hurt as much as becoming the beast, returning to himself again is no picnic. Josh feels like he's been through the wringer: his muscles ache, his vision is blurry, and he can barely sit up by himself.

After some time, he realizes that he isn't sitting up by himself. He's leaning into Tyler's side, holding onto his shoulder as he tries to readjust. Something warm is draped around him; Tyler's coat, he assumes. Tyler doesn't touch him, but lets Josh use him to support himself.

"Are you with me?" Tyler asks at last. His voice is as raw as if he were the one who morphed.

Josh can't speak at all. He just nods. 

"Do you think you can make it into the house?"

Josh's body shudders, less overpowering than before, but still present. "The dogs," he rasps.

"In the garage for now." Tyler's fingers tentatively brush a piece of hair out of his face, like he's trying to see him better, and something about it strikes Josh deep. Why would he want to see him at all, after he's seen the monster he can be firsthand?

But Tyler brushes the hair out of his face, hand lingering along the edge of his jaw. Hazy and exhausted and wrong as he is, Josh meets his eyes briefly. There's no fear or dread or anger there, just... care. Compassion. Concern.

It's hard to look away, though. Tyler almost seems to be pleading with him with his eyes, but Josh doesn't understand what he's asking. For a fraction of a moment, he thinks about how close they are, himself wrapped in Tyler's coat, Tyler's arms, their faces a few inches apart. For a fraction of a moment, he thinks he could close that gap.

But, no. No.

Josh lowers his head, letting his sweaty curls fall into his eyes again, resting his forehead on Tyler's shoulder. Tyler doesn't speak again, just stays still and steady. A sliver of rock in a churning sea; Josh holds on for dear life.

He doesn't ease his grip until the sky begins to lighten, until morning begins; he's been out for most of the night, in one shape or another. God, he's so tired. Of himself, especially.

"Can we go in?" he asks finally, and Tyler's hand stills from where it was petting his hair.

In the end, Josh can hardly stand, so Tyler has to carry him. His arms come to lift him bridal style, one under his back and the other under his knees, with Josh clinging on as best as he can. He barely registers the distant barks and whines of the dogs, still in the garage, and he winces when Tyler turns on the light in the bedroom after depositing him on the edge of the mattress. Tyler shuts it off quickly.

"Sorry," he says, soft. Josh just shakes his head.

Tyler gets him some clean clothes--he really needs a shower, but he knows he can't handle one right now. He feels bad for tearing through the sleepwear Tyler had lent him, mumbles something under his breath about repaying him. Which is funny, because he's flat broke. A lack of funds is what got him into this fucking mess in the first place, after all.

"Don't," Tyler tells him, gently taking away his coat. "Doesn't matter. They're just clothes."

He helps Josh dress, fetches him an advil from the kitchen with a glass of water. Josh swallows it, drinking the whole thing while he's still able to stay awake. He knows it won't last for much longer.

The glass thuds when he sets it down a little too hard on the nightstand. Tyler jumps slightly at the sound, but recovers just as quickly.

"I'm sorry," Josh says wearily. He's not talking about the glass.

"Doesn't matter," Tyler repeats.

"It matters." Josh's voice cracks; he shuts his eyes, lets out a ragged sigh. "It matters to me."

"What can I do?"

Josh knows he means well. Josh knows he wants to help, to heal, but is he deserving of that? Is he worth this seemingly unconditional kindness? He doesn't feel as though he is. Far from it.

"I just want to be alone for a little bit," Josh says at last, and it's a lie. It's a lie. He doubts he could morph again so soon after recovering--it takes just as much of a toll on the beast as it does him--and any physical comfort Tyler would offer him now would be about what he wants and not about what he needs to stay human.

It's a lie, and Tyler buys it. He touches Josh's knee, so gently that Josh could cry. "Call for me if you need me."

Josh nods numbly, and Tyler goes.

The door is closed. Josh is left alone; as alone as he can be, with a monster inside.

He lays down on the mattress, ignoring the blankets bunched up at his feet, and he takes another shaky breath. Tears follow soon after. As the morning begins, Josh falls asleep to the sound of himself falling apart.

Chapter Text

Josh's sleep schedule is fucked, anyway, so he doesn't care much when he wakes up at six that evening. His body still aches all over, kind of like the flu, but he doesn't feel delirious or dizzy or on the verge of collapse. Josh just feels low.

Escaping his morph, Josh knows, is impossible to do forever. Touch may work as a method to ground  himself, but it's not a cure; it's a delay. He'll always morph again. The beast will fight him, sharp-toothed and bitter, and sometimes he'll win, yes, but mostly he will lose. His body won't be his, and he won't be in charge of it. Control will be out of his hands until he's able to wrestle it down.

It's a miracle it didn't hurt Tyler. It's a miracle it didn't kill him.

Josh wraps his arms around himself, feeling sick at the thought. Back at the facility, there was no one he cared about enough to want to keep them from harm; and besides, even if there were, the researchers always left the room as the process of morphing began. By the time the beast was in charge, the doors would be bolted shut, and despite its strength, it wouldn't be able to get at them.

Josh starts slightly, sitting up as the door to the bedroom opens. There are no bolts here, no barricades or thick glass panes separating him from everything outside of the room. There's just a bedroom door, unlocked, quietly pushed open by Tyler, who has a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water on it. He has dark circles under his eyes; maybe he hasn't been able to sleep since...

"I thought you might be hungry," Tyler says, soft, setting the tray on the nightstand. "I brought another advil, too, if you're still in pain."

Josh just stares at the sandwich for a long minute. Eventually, he gathers himself up and swallows, lifting his voice. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Tyler looks at him blankly. He doesn't get it.

"I'm not like you," Josh emphasizes, lowers his gaze; it's hard to look Tyler in the eyes when he talks about it. "I can't control it the way you control yours. It's an animal."

"I can't say I understand your connection with it," Tyler says quietly. He moves to sit on the end of the bed; Josh pulls his knees to his chest to keep a safe distance between them. "It's an instinct, you know? It's a part of me. I've always been this way."

"I haven't." Josh swallows again. "A year or so. It takes control, but only for short periods of time. I have to fight it to get back behind the wheel."

"Josh," Tyler says, but he's not done.

"I fight it, and it fights me. It's not natural, it's not a part of me; it's like someone plucked the soul of a wild animal straight from its body and shoved it into mine. Neither of us wants to share." Josh exhales, shaky. "It's not natural. It could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"But what if it did?" Josh pushes, fingers curling into the leg of his sweatpants. "What if I..." He can't finish his sentence.

What if I opened my eyes to see your blood on my hands? Josh's mind pleads, like Tyler can hear his thoughts. What if I came to with your flesh in my teeth? What if the first thing I saw was your broken body, and it was my fault?

"Josh," Tyler says, again, reaching out, and Josh realizes he's crying.

He pulls back, though, away from Tyler and into the headboard. It's hard to see the look on Tyler's face through his tears, but Josh thinks he's never seen such a sad look on another person before. "Don't touch me," he says, sniffling. "I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster," Tyler tells him, soft, but Josh can't stop seeing Tyler's blood on his hands. He presses his face into his knees, arms wrapped around them, and muffles his sobs.

Josh cries because Tyler is wrong, because he is a monster. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, except sometimes the wool tears and the world can see what he's become. He's a threat to everyone and everything around him.

Tyler doesn't touch him, but by the time Josh has managed to catch his breath, he's scooted up onto the bed to sit closer to him: back to the wall, arms at his sides, head tilted back against the windowsill. His throat is bared, in a way, and Josh shudders, and he hates it. He hates it so much.

"You didn't hurt me," Tyler says at last, eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling. "While you were morphed. I know you could have," he adds, before Josh can point it out. "You could have, but that's the thing. You didn't."

Josh shakes his head, sniffs. "It didn't."

"What if it's more like you than you think?"

"You saw it," Josh snaps, then stops. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "It didn't look like me. It didn't feel like me."

"Mine does," Tyler admits. "But it didn't always. You've been going through this for...how long did you say it was?"

"A year."

"It took almost two years to fully adjust to mine," Tyler says, surprising Josh. "I was a teenager, so I was going through a lot of different things at the time... but I didn't really feel comfortable with it until I was older."

"Did you?" Josh asks quietly. When Tyler tilts his head in his direction, he swallows. "Did you ever hurt someone?"

Tyler shakes his head. "Mine wasn't... angry. Confused and unsteady, but not angry."

"Mine isn't," Josh hurries, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "Not at you. You haven't-" And here he pauses. "You've been kind. You haven't done anything wrong, it's just... defensive."

Tyler doesn't answer, just nods his head slightly. If he speaks now, if he asks Josh where he came from and why he's here and how he really got that laceration, it's all going to come spilling out, like a bag of marbles, rolling all over the place. Josh bites his tongue.

"Mine made you morph," Tyler says instead. "Didn't it?"

Josh gives him a small nod. "It would've happened eventually, anyway. But- yeah. It set it off."

"What was it thinking?" Tyler asks, tilting his head in Josh's direction again. This time, he's looking at Josh, curious, like he can read the answer in his face.

He wants to close his eyes, but he knows he'll see it hiding behind them: dark fur and sharp teeth. "It was confused. A little scared. Didn't know what to do."

"Not aggressive?"

Josh shakes his head.

Tyler seems to mull over this for a moment, going back to staring at the ceiling. "You need to morph regularly," he says slowly, "same as I do. Right?"

"Yeah."

Another brief pause. "What if we morphed together?"

Josh stiffens. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Maybe, maybe not." Tyler shrugs a little, side-eyeing him. "But it might be nice for you--for it," he corrects, when Josh flinches. "For it to find company with someone like itself."

And Josh understands that, sort of, even if he doesn't like it. He knows what it's like to be the outlier--he thought he was up until Tyler told him he could morph--and it's the loneliest he's ever felt. It makes the beast lash out, act defensive or even aggressive, because it feels like no one is on its side. Like it's the only one of its kind.

"It might not take it well," Josh says quietly, because he just doesn't know. It's an unpredictable thing.

"But if something goes wrong, I'll be morphed, too. I used to wrestle with my brothers all the time when we were growing up." He smiles a little, like the memories are good ones. "I could probably put it down without getting hurt, or without hurting you."

Put it down. Like a dog. Josh knows that's not what he means, but he chews on the inside of his cheek at the phrasing.

"When?" he says quietly.

"Whenever you're ready."

Josh smiles, weary. "I'll never be ready."

"I won't make you," Tyler says, soft, and this time Josh stares right back at him. "You should rest for now, alright? You look like you've seen hell."

"Maybe I have."

Chapter Text

Josh is exhausted from the morph, and sleeps a lot over the next few days. He's almost afraid to touch Tyler, even when he craves physical contact, because he's scared he'll hurt him. It's dumb, because he never would, not on purpose; not while he's in this shape. But the thought stalks him, both while he sleeps and otherwise.

He gasps himself awake one night, dragged from a brutal nightmare. Visions of Tyler dead at his feet, the phantom taste of his blood in his mouth, an awful sound coming out of him like a crying animal; it won't leave him alone.

But Tyler wakes up, too, and though Josh is in no danger of morphing tonight--he's scared, but more the type where he shrinks into himself, a fear of himself rather than outside harm--Tyler comforts him. He wraps an arm around Josh, then another, mumbling sleepy promises. "'S okay. You're here. You're safe. Gonna be okay."

Josh doesn't know if he believes that or not, but it helps to hear it. Eventually they both fall back asleep together, and in the morning they're tangled together like charms on a bracelet. It might actually be the safest Josh has felt since he escaped.

The dogs avoid him, which stings, but Tyler assures him they're just confused. "I usually take them with me when I go out," he says. "They're good about it. They just haven't properly met yours yet."

After two days, Jim starts to grow close to Josh again, which is good, because Tyler can't stay home from work forever if he wants to keep his job. Josh huddles up on the couch with Jim, the dog laying next to him with his head resting on his paws. He keeps both eyes on Josh like he's afraid to look away from him, but he doesn't protest when Josh tentatively pets his soft fur, and he even wags his tail a little now and again.

Josh feels normal after a week, or at least as normal as he can. The leftover ache from the morph has eased, and he almost-but-not-quite sleeps through the night. It helps to have Tyler there. It also helps that they wake up in the morning all snuggled up together. Josh won't let himself feel anything about it.

He can't pretend they're normal forever, though. On Saturday morning, Tyler is up first, and he looks almost guilty when Josh enters the kitchen.

"I'm going to morph tonight," he says, quiet.

Josh takes a seat at the kitchen table, tentative. "Oh."

"I won't make you join me," Tyler tells him. "But I'll be on the back porch at nine. If you want to come out with me, or after, you can. If you don't, that's fine too."

"What about the dogs?"

"I'll put 'em in the garage for the night. They'll be okay."

Josh doesn't know what his answer is, so he doesn't give one. That seems to be okay with Tyler, though; he starts talking about the shitty movie they watched yesterday instead, and Josh gratefully takes the change of subject.

"The effects weren't that bad, for a low budget," Tyler says, gesturing with one hand as he talks. When he pours himself a bowl of cereal, he spills a few pieces on the ground. Ned, sitting expectantly at Tyler's feet, cleans it up before Tyler even realizes he's dropped any. "Like, they only threw 'em in when they really needed to, and kind of left the rest up to the audience's imagination. Y'know?"

Josh gets a bowl for himself out of the cupboard, grabbing the milk from the fridge as Tyler fills it with cereal. "Yeah. I kind of wish they'd done a big reveal, though."

"Yeah. That, and the acting was shit." Tyler leans on the counter, and Josh glances at him for a second too long, still holding the jug in his hand. "You can have all the neat effects in the world, but if there's no feeling behind it, it won't be a good movie. The actors need to believe they're the characters, or at least make the audience believe they are. Otherwise it just falls flat."

Josh glances at Tyler for a second too long, and it turns into something like a stare. Tyler is just as lanky and unassuming as when they first met, but now Josh knows there's strength beneath his skin, a certain wildness that he keeps under wraps. He's human until he isn't, but even then, there's something entirely Tyler about him. It's something morphing doesn't seem to erase.

Morphing doesn't erase the bright look in Tyler's eyes, nor his mannerisms: the huffs of breath, the slight tilt of his head. Oh, Josh has been staring, hasn't he? Tyler's looking at him funny. "You okay?"

Josh pours some milk into their cereal bowls and practically shoves the jug back into the fridge. "Yeah, just thinking about the movie."

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Tyler goes to work, and Josh stays at the house with Jim. After Tyler gets home, they eat dinner and watch yet another shitty horror film. This one has bizarre human-dinosaur hybrids as the antagonists, and the makeup and audio effects are so bad that Tyler and Josh spend the whole thing trying not to laugh.

At least, until the film is over, because then, Josh looks to the clock, and sees the time.

It's almost nine. The dogs are all in the living room, but after his own glance at the clock, Tyler whistles to rouse them, herding them out of sight and presumably into the garage. Left alone, Josh tries to calm his racing heartbeat.

He can stay inside, try fitfully to sleep while the beast scratches at the back of his ribs in another attempt to get out. Or, he can go outside, with Tyler, and morph. With Tyler.

The second option is as tempting as it is terrifying. The worst part, though, is that Josh doesn't know whether he wants to morph with Tyler, or if the beast is influencing him.

"I'm heading out."

Josh jumps, but it's just Tyler; he didn't hear him approach. He's standing by the arm of the couch, and the dogs aren't with him. He's looking at Josh with an unreadable expression. Does he want Josh to join him? Will he be sad or angry if he doesn't?

"I'll go," Josh whispers. "Don't- I don't know if I'll stay. But I can be there, right?"

"Mhm." Tyler's hand comes to rest in Josh's curls, ruffling them a little. It's a friendly gesture. Friendly. Are they friends? "You know I won't hurt you, right?"

"I know," Josh says. That's not what he's afraid of.

They step out onto the back deck together. Josh almost wants to grab Tyler's hand for support--supporting himself, or supporting Tyler, he's not sure. He knows what seeing Tyler morph will probably do to him, and he knows this could go very bad very quickly, but something behind his skin is urging him on. He wants to see.

Then Tyler takes his shirt off, and Josh sees in a different way. Immediately, his hand flies up to shield his eyes, embarrassment making his skin prickle.

"Sorry," Tyler says, and Josh can hear something almost like a laugh in his voice. "Can't afford to tear through all my clothes all the time, y'know? Plus I really like this shirt."

"You're fine. I- It's fine," Josh stammers, face feeling hot.

This time Tyler does laugh. "Yeah?"

Josh is so fucked. He's glad half his face is under his hand; he must be as red as a tomato. "Just take your pants off already."

Tyler laughs again, but he must do as he's told, because Josh can hear the rustle of fabric again. More rustling, fumbling, and then, the soft sound of Tyler's voice. "You can go in anytime you want, okay? I won't be mad or anything."

His breathing is already off. Josh swallows, nods, but keeps his hand over his eyes.

He doesn't see it happen; it feels like a violation of Tyler's privacy, even though he said it was okay. Perhaps more so, Josh is apprehensive. His own morphing is a terrible thing, an ugly one. Maybe Tyler's is, too, and maybe it isn't. He isn't sure if he's ready to find out, and as he hears his bones begin to break, he almost bolts back into the house and slams the door behind him.

Almost. But Josh is frozen still, a silent, blind witness to Tyler's pain. 

What the fuck is he doing?

There's no more time for him to reconsider, because as quickly as it began, it's over. That wet dog smell is back, powerful, and though he already suspected it, Josh is certain now that that's Tyler's morph, and that his own beast can pick it up, too.

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of Josh's neck as he's met with almost total silence. Only a second later, he flinches at the feeling of a warm puff of air--a breath--on his face.

Very slowly, Josh moves his hand from over his eyes, and stares right into the face of an animal that he knows must be Tyler.

Seeing him from the window last time couldn't have prepared him for how big he would actually be up close. His head alone is at least twice as long as Josh's, and he shuts his eyes tightly for a moment as his big wet nose sniffs the top of his head. Tyler's morph is an odd but somehow natural mix of feline and canine; he's also huge, and Josh feels dwarfed, even though he thinks his own morph might be a little taller.

Another breath washes over his face, and Josh opens his eyes again. The animal that has to be Tyler--because if it weren't Tyler, surely it would have killed him--sits back on his haunches and just looks at him. He's even taller like this, maybe twice Josh's height, and Jesus, if he wasn't already terrifying, Josh starts to think he might pass out.

But he doesn't lunge. He just looks.

"Tyler," he manages, quietly, unsure if he'll even get a response. The animal wags its tail like a dog.

"Holy shit," he squeaks, which seems to make him wag his tail harder. His ears are sharp, perked up, and he lowers his head slowly, tilted in Josh's direction.

Without understanding why, Josh reaches out. His fingers find the soft, thick fur on the beast's head. He could kill him right now; he should kill him for touching him, if he's anything like the animal that is not Josh. Tyler doesn't do this.

Abruptly, Josh feels like he's been hit by a train. His hand drops as he gasps, stumbles forward, nearly landing on the animal that is Tyler before managing to catch himself. 

It doesn't matter what Tyler does now, he supposes, as he sinks to his knees on the back porch. He's going to morph tonight, whether he wants to or not.

It takes just as long as it usually does, but the beast seems to push hard at the seams and borders between them; with rage or excitement, Josh can't tell, because he's already losing himself, losing what makes him, to the untrained eye, human.

And then it ends. The animal that is not Josh has to take a minute to try and breathe, to capture whatever air it can and recover from the ordeal. It knows Tyler is there, though, and it wants to get up. It wants to face him.

It manages to stand on shaky legs, back arched, and slowly lifts its head to stare at the animal sitting across from it.

Tyler is just sitting back on his haunches, watching with curious brown eyes. He betrays no signs of aggression or apprehension; his ears are sharp, head tilted just so, big black nose twitching.

They stare at one another for a solid minute, mostly because Josh's beast doesn't know what to do. It's never met something like itself before, even if there are some obvious differences. It's clear that Tyler's beast is sleek and sharp, whereas the animal that is not Josh feels raw and ragged. One natural, one manmade; one in control, one out of it.

The beast takes a single step forward, its massive paw soft and solid on the porch, and it bares its teeth.

Tyler doesn't react like he should. He just wags his tail.

This is a friendly gesture, but it's so alien that Josh's beast doesn't know what to make of it. It takes another step, this time to one side, and it makes a low snarling noise that should more than express its aggression.

Tyler tilts his head the other way, considering, watching. Before it knows what's happening, Tyler leaps to his paws and bats at its snout, not rough enough to tear skin or pull fur but enough to get its attention.

Josh's beast lunges just as Tyler's leaps back, and with a sharp bark, he darts into the woods. The beast bolts after him.

It hasn't run since the last morph, but this is different, in a strangely good way. It isn't fleeing Tyler, it's chasing him, leaping over fallen trees and pushing through foliage to keep pace. Josh's beast has longer legs, but Tyler has the advantage of knowing his terrain, and where the former stumbles, the latter moves as quickly and cleanly through the trees as a deer.

Josh's beast finally catches up to him in a clearing. Tyler has ran a few paces ahead, stopping and turning back to look at it, at which point it sees its chance. Snarling with rage, it lunges once more at Tyler, but he ducks out of the way just as fast.

Before it knows what it's doing, it lunges again, this time with more than its teeth; it tackles Tyler, scrabbling at him with blunt claws and snapping jaws. Tyler's coat is surprisingly thick, making it hard for it to get a good grip or even tear at his pelt despite its efforts.

And even still, Tyler betrays no fear. He grapples with Josh just as furiously, striking out with his paws and butting his head hard under the beast's chin, but he spills no blood. Like this is a fucking game.

It's a game, and it's one the animal that is not Josh refuses to lose. It manages to roll them both over, wrestling Tyler's beast to the ground, his head hitting the earth with a soft thump. Its paws pin him down, and it growls furiously, teeth sharp and eager for blood.

Maybe if Tyler were just an animal, he would be afraid now. But he's not, and he isn't.

It would make sense for him to whimper or cry, to try to squirm away or even bite at the paws holding him down. Instead, Tyler is panting, tongue lolling, and he almost looks like he's smiling, like this is what he wanted all along.

Josh's beast doesn't know how to make sense of this. It snaps at the air near Tyler's face, not enough to bite, just enough to show that it can. Surely that will be enough to frighten him.

Instead, Tyler tilts his head back, and exposes his throat.

Does he have a death wish? What is he doing? Does this mean something? Is it a sign, a signal that Josh's beast does not understand?

And then it hits him. Trust. It's trust.

Tyler trusts him.

He sees the animal that is not Josh, its strength and its fury, and he trusts it not to hurt him. He trusts Josh, the soul behind the monster, even if he's invisible. Without speaking, Tyler is saying You're in there, and I'll prove it.

Something inside him splinters. Him, not it, because the beast is suddenly letting him see. He's not in charge exactly; it's like playing a character in a video game. He can make it stop and go, but can't control the game itself. But one way or another, the animal that is not Josh becomes the animal that is Josh.

Stunned, he stumbles back, letting Tyler go and trying to get his bearings. Everything is so alien, so off-track that it makes him dizzy. Josh is a person in the body of a monster, and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because he's holding the remote for the first time.

There's a quiet noise, almost like a whine, and Josh tentatively opens his eyes. Tyler is standing now, leaves and twigs caught in his fur from their game, and it's hard to say, but he almost looks concerned.

Josh whines back, ears flat, but he doesn't run away this time.

Slowly, giving him time to back off if he wants to, Tyler moves into his space and rests his chin on Josh's head. He has to lift his head high to do it--Josh's beast is taller than Tyler's--but he does it, and it's... weirdly soothing.

Josh takes a moment to calm down to the best of his ability. He can't say this body feels good, or even familiar, but he does feel it now. He feels himself on the inside, in his head and his heart.

It's almost as scary as losing control in the first place.

At least he's not alone. Tyler gives him a minute before he steps back, tail wagging hesitantly, like he's trying to ask Josh if he's okay, and Josh... isn't sure. He feels out of place. Like he's drunk, almost, but he's completely sober. A dumb comparison, maybe, but it's the best he can come up with right now.

He doesn't wag his tail--frankly, it feels weird enough just to have one. But he meets Tyler's eyes, tentative, and nods his head a little.

Tyler's tail wags harder, and his ears perk up. He paws at the ground, this time, instead of Josh's nose, but the message is clear enough as he bolts into the forest. Josh is still at the controls, but an instinct is creeping up his spine so firm and demanding that he gives into it without much fighting. He chases after him.

When Josh was a kid, he had a puppy. It was a small thing, never got very big, but now he remembers its body language, the way it would seem to goad him into chasing it, the roughhousing they got into together. This is different on so many levels, but maybe, in places, Josh can understand. At least, he tries to.

Josh chases Tyler through the forest for some time. At first, Josh worries that he'll be overcome by some sort of dangerous urge, a predatory need to pounce and bite. It doesn't happen, though. In fact, the longer they run, the better he feels. The beast is almost satisfied, or he thinks it is, because it's not trying to tear him into bits.

He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, but he relishes in it.

Eventually Tyler slows to a stop, and Josh does, too, staying a few feet away as they both try to catch their breath. Josh's muscles ache, his legs burn, but it's good. Again, Josh thinks of his childhood pet, and how it wouldn't relax until he'd worn it out throwing a stick for it to fetch in the yard.

Josh takes deep breaths of cold morning air, avoiding looking at Tyler, trying to gather himself together.

A soft sound makes him lift his head sharply; it's Tyler, approaching him from the side, tail high in the air like he's saying hello. The beast is still wary, and Josh flattens his ears, but he doesn't growl this time, even if he does bare his teeth nervously.

Tyler lifts his chin again, nose to the sky, and the trust calms him down a little. Josh isn't sure what to do when Tyler noses at his shoulder, bright-eyed, before looking back to the house. Touch, look, touch, look.

Josh nods like before; a gesture he wouldn't think twice about normally, but in this shape it feels unnatural. Tyler must understand anyway, because he steps away from Josh and up onto the porch, the old wood creaking slightly under his weight. He glances back, then, tail wagging a little, encouraging, and so Josh tentatively follows.

Tyler sniffs for a second at the pile of clothes he left on the porch earlier, glancing to Josh one more time before its fur ripples down its spine. It's strange to see from the outside, but as Tyler begins the process of morphing back, Josh realizes that's exactly what he's doing: he can morph back whenever he wants to. It's all under his control.

He can't control it, not like that, even if the beast seems sated for now. Like before, though, the sight of Tyler transforming sends a shock of pain through Josh's body, and then he's doubling over, claws sinking into the porch as he, too, begins to morph back.

It still takes too long. It still hurts, too, but as Josh starts to feel more like himself and less like an animal, the ache in his muscles follows him. It's a burning sensation; it's not unpleasant. It's all he's really aware of for a while.

There's a blanket wrapped around him, but Josh doesn't know if he grabbed it or if Tyler draped it over his shoulders. He can see Tyler, though, standing just on the edge of the porch, wrapped in a blanket of his own, eyes closed. A slight fog has risen this morning, drifting through the trees to coat everything in a damp mist.

Tyler's face is tilted towards the forest. His eyes are closed, and he looks about as worn out as Josh feels, but he also looks content. Peaceful, thoughtful, like he's absorbing the fog. It makes his usually fluffy hair fall flat, cling to his skin.

He looks good.

Josh is too tired to try to stop his thoughts, so he doesn't. It's not unreasonable for him to find Tyler attractive; he's very nice to look at. That's what Josh does, for a while. He just looks at Tyler. Admires him for as long as Tyler keeps his eyes closed.

But eventually, Tyler's eyes open, and Josh has to tear his away. His knees hurt from where he's been kneeling on the porch since he morphed back, and his body aches all over, but it's not unbearable. That in itself is a little miracle.

He doesn't hear Tyler approach, just sees his hand reaching out to him, offering to help him up, and Josh takes it.

The house is quiet as they go inside; the space between them is quiet, too, not unpleasantly so. The beast is quiet in the back of Josh's head, relatively speaking, and he hasn't felt this much like himself since... well, for a long time now.

They both linger in the kitchen, Tyler getting them each a glass of water from the sink while Josh leans against the counter and tries not to fall over. It only occurs to him with the faint sway of Tyler's blanket that oh yeah, they're both kind of naked right now. Maybe that should be weird, or there should be some sort of tension, but Josh just feels tired right now.

He leans into Tyler as they go down the hall together, clumsily stumbling over the rug on the way into the bedroom, but he barely feels it. The leftover pain from morphing has turned to something satisfying, something certain, like he's just had a good workout and he's ready to crash after a long day. It has been a long day, he supposes, or rather a long night. They've been out since sunset.

It's the easiest thing in the world to fall into bed next to Tyler, still wrapped in his blanket, and he lets out a little sigh as his body readjusts. Tyler lazily throws an arm around Josh's waist, drawing him closer, and in his dopamine-addled state, Josh loves it unashamedly. He burrows into Tyler's side, face pressed into his shoulder, and Tyler practically purrs, tightening their half-hug and happily tangling their legs together where they aren't covered by their respective blankets. Josh sighs again and hooks one ankle over Tyler's before finally letting himself sink into sleep.

It's quite possibly the best nap Josh has ever had.

When he ultimately wakes, the sliver of gold peeking through the shut curtains tells Josh it's late afternoon. He's a little too warm, which he thinks is why he woke up, because he's still kind of tired and he'd like to go back to sleep.

After a few seconds he realizes why he's a little too warm: he's cuddled up to Tyler, who is still very much naked. They're both naked; loosely wrapped in their respective blankets--draped as delicately as lovers on TV, with cloth covering anything particularly explicit--but definitely naked.

Tyler is still asleep, his face partially hidden in the way it's pressed to his pillow. Josh, whose own face is a scarce few inches away, shuts his eyes tightly the moment he realizes his gaze is wandering. 

It's not that Tyler's unpleasant to look at--the opposite, frankly--but Josh can't let himself look. It's not fair to Tyler, or to himself. He just can't.

Even if it's tempting.

It's bad enough, Josh decides, that he's been hanging all over Tyler as is. The morphing makes him crave human contact, yes, and he's been using it as a preventative measure, but now he begins to question whether or not he needs Tyler's touch or just wants it.

One of the dogs barks from the garage. The sound is muffled enough by all that lies between, but it's enough to make Josh flinch, and he can hear the sharp intake of breath as Tyler is dragged from sleep. Heart hammering despite himself, Josh stays very still, keeping his eyes shut even as he hears the blankets shuffle.

He knows Tyler's awake now, but it's anyone's guess whether or not Tyler can tell the same of him. For both of their sakes--at least, that's what he tells himself--he pretends to be asleep.

Josh isn't sure what he expects; for Tyler to pull away, maybe. Instead, after what feels like hours but must only be a few minutes, Tyler settles back down again. Josh can feel the point of his chin resting on his arm, sharp but not unwelcome, and the ghost of Tyler's breath tickles his skin when he sighs quietly.

Some of the tension eases in his chest, knowing he's not disgusted or something by the intimate proximity. It's so nice that Josh kind of hates it.

More time passes, a longer stretch than before, the two of them cuddled up together, each resting in whatever way they're able. Josh tries to pretend it's a game; he lays very still and tells himself he's going to see how long he can stay that way. Eventually it begins to grow uncomfortable, and he longs to shift his arm, which has fallen asleep, but Tyler is still using it as a pillow and he wouldn't dare move. 

Josh is so focused on not moving, actually, that he's still virtually motionless when Tyler finally sits up and draws away. Relief washes over him at first--once Tyler's gone he can get comfortable however he likes--but is immediately swept out by a biting anxiety. He doesn't fully understand everything that happened last night, what with the altered morphing and the chasing game they played, but the beast suddenly stirs, unhappy with the idea of Tyler being gone despite the fact that it's wanted to kill him multiple times since meeting him.

The anxiety sharpens to a point when Josh feels the bed dip; Tyler's stood up. Josh lets out a short breath, chiding himself even as the beast urges him to speak up, to pull Tyler back to him.

Tyler must have heard him, or perhaps he knew all along, but he says, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Josh shifts his arm as the pins and needles gradually begin to subside. "'S okay," he mumbles. He can feel Tyler looking at him; he's pretty sure his blanket is covering him from his ribs down, but he presses his face into a pillow for a second, trying to hide the red cheeks he knows he probably has.

There's a quiet noise, then, the creak of a door, and the anxiety jabs at Josh again. The beast is just as sharp, just as insistent, and this time Josh follows it, propping himself up on one elbow and opening his eyes. Thank fucking god, Tyler has his blanket wrapped around himself like a messy toga. It's hard enough for Josh to avoid staring as it is, and getting caught doing so would be humiliating.

"Tyler?"

Tyler's standing by the door to the bathroom, but he turns back to Josh after he's spoken. His eyes are half-lidded, like he's still asleep; maybe it's just Josh's imagination, but he seems to brighten when he's looking at Josh. "Yeah?"

He's not sure what to say now that he's gotten Tyler's attention. "Um." He shuts his eyes again with a frustrated sigh, rubbing at his temple. Stay here is the phrase that pops into his mind, possibly an instinct on the beast's end, but he can't say that. "Sorry I shredded the clothes you lent me. Again."

When he opens his eyes once more, he's relieved to see amusement in Tyler's face. "It's fine, dude. I'm gonna shower really quick, then I'll grab something for you to wear. Sound good?"

The beast doesn't speak in full sentences. It's not even audible in Josh's mind; he just knows how it feels about things the second they happen. It's instinctual, like Tyler said, and right now that instinct is telling him to get up and go with Tyler if it means keeping him nearby.

But Josh has the reigns today--he hopes. The beast growls lowly in frustration as Josh speaks aloud. "Yeah."

Tyler flashes that quick, beaming smile at him, and just like that, he's disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. Josh can hear the blanket hit the floor almost the second the lock clicks.

He manages well enough on his own, even if he does have to put a pillow over his head to avoid hearing any other noises Tyler might make. They'd just give him bad ideas.

Chapter Text

After they're both showered and dressed, they eat breakfast in the kitchen like nothing even happened. The dogs are outside, chasing each other around in the yard and sniffing all over the deck; Josh doesn't doubt they can smell his morph. He's just glad it doesn't send them into a fit.

Tyler finally brings it up once he's halfway through his bowl of cereal. Josh has finished his, and he's resting his elbows on the table with his chin in his hands, staring absently at his empty bowl. He's not wounded anymore, not like he was--his laceration is going to become little more than a scar and a reminder of a darker time. Still, he stays put, because the idea of being alone stings, and Tyler's company has become so vital to him so quickly that he only just realized he's given into it.

"How are you feeling?" Tyler asks, pulling him from his thoughts. It's a casual enough question, but Josh knows what he's trying to lead up to even before he sees the look in his eyes.

He exhales. "Weirdly okay."

"What about it is weird?"

"I'm normally totally wiped out after." It still feels kind of scary to say the word out loud. "And I was, but it's worn off, I think."

"Yeah?" Tyler leans into the table a little, tilted in Josh's direction. "What did you think?"

Josh exhales again, but he still feels like he's holding his breath. "I think you're crazy."

A smile blooms on Tyler's face, amusement evident in the dimples in his cheeks and the light in his eyes. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

Something in the warmth in Tyler's face makes him upset. The morphing didn't go badly, but it probably could have, and definitely came close when Josh tackled him. Even if Tyler is tougher in his morphed state, Josh is tougher, too. If he starts thinking about it too much, he can taste Tyler's blood on his tongue again.

And Tyler doesn't care. 

"I could've killed you."

"But you didn't."

"But what if I did?" Josh grips the edge of the table in the same way he wants to grip Tyler's shoulders and shake some sense into him. "I can't control my morph the way you control yours; it's not like I could switch back and try to get help. Even if I did, it would probably be too late."

"That wouldn't happen," Tyler says, quiet.

"You don't know that!" He knows he's raised his voice, but he can't help it. Tears are prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. "I'm a monster, Tyler. Why do you keep treating me like this? Why the hell do you act like you trust me?"

"Because I do trust you."

Josh knows that must be true, but it just doesn't make sense to him. He doesn't have a proper response for it, either, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Well, you shouldn't."

Something like hurt wells up in Tyler's face. "Josh-"

If he says anything else, Josh is going to start crying, and he can't. "I need some air," he interrupts, moving away from the table. Tyler reaches out a hand, to stop him maybe, but Josh hurries past, away from Tyler, out of the kitchen and towards the front of the house.

Only once he's standing at the front door does he realize he should have just gone out the back, but it doesn't matter, does it? He needs to get outside, to get away from all the things he can't run away from. He needs to get away from Tyler, for his sake.

Josh is a monster.

He's a monster, and as long as there are monsters in this world, there will be those who hunt them.

Josh is so frustrated and upset that he only hears the car pulling into the driveway when he's reaching for the doorknob.

He freezes still, heart suddenly hammering for a completely different reason than his fight with Tyler. The beast is there, always there, but at the sound of the car it jolts into an alert state. Very slowly, he moves his body closer to the door, lining his eye up with the peephole to get a glimpse of whoever's just arrived.

Josh doesn't recognize the two men getting out of the police car, nor the car itself. It's the logo printed on the back of the clipboard one of the men is holding as he starts to approach the house.

Panic grips Josh so fiercely that he nearly falls, limbs turned to Jell-O at the prospect of being taken back to the facility. He can hear the footsteps of the men getting closer, though, and after a split second, adrenaline kicks in hard.

The beast is just as terrified as he, but it does have enough control to keep his footsteps light as he bolts away from the door and through the living room. Tyler is coming out of the kitchen, that hurt look still in his eyes, but when Josh scrambles past it turns to one of confusion. 

Josh doesn't dare stop to explain. As a firm knock comes on the front door, he books it down the hall and through the door farthest from the front of the house, shutting and locking it behind him.

He can't breathe.

He hasn't been in this room before, and briefly wishes he'd ducked into the one he's been staying in, but there's nowhere good to hide there. Here, Josh can see a bed, a nightstand... bingo. There's a closet.

Some part of him, in the back of his head, knows this must be Tyler's room; if he were taking in anything more than the scarcest shallow breaths, the beast would be able to identify his scent. But Josh is too afraid to think about how he must be intruding right now. As quickly and quietly as he can, Josh pushes open the sliding closet door and scrambles inside before shutting it behind himself.

It's dark. He can hear Tyler's dogs barking.

Sometimes, when he's hurt or afraid, the beast tries to take over, but now it hides within him as if that could spare it from torment. Josh wedges himself into the very corner of the closet, between a dusty keyboard and a stack of cardboard boxes, and he presses his back to the wall behind him. God, his heart is beating out of his chest.

One word repeats itself in his brain, over and over and over, chanted like a desperate prayer. No, no, no, no no. He doesn't dare repeat it aloud.

Chapter Text

There's no dramatic shouts, no crashing or clattering or indications that anyone is seeking him out. The only thing Josh can hear is the muffled barking of Tyler's dogs; this is largely due to how tightly his hands are pressed over his ears, but he doesn't want to hear. He doesn't want to know when they find him. He can't bear the dread of knowing they're practically on top of him, and that the next few seconds will be his last free ones.

He's not sure how much time passes, but it feels like forever.

Eventually, the barking stops. Eventually, a scratching sound makes its way to Josh's hiding place, and he clamps his hands harder over his ears. It sounds like claws on wood. Did they bring dogs to track him down? He remembers that there were some, on the day of his escape; he could hear them barking in the distance, but he was faster than they were, and was able to stay ahead of them. 

That was in another shape, though, and Josh knows he'd stand little chance against their dogs like this. The scratching noise comes again, more insistent, followed by a whine. They're clawing at the bedroom door, trying to get to him.

A voice follows the whine of the dogs, but Josh can't make out any words. God, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to know what they're saying. As the door to the bedroom rattles, he presses himself as tightly as he can into the corner, desperate but knowing he'll never make it out in time.

He hears footsteps.

"Josh?"

Tyler's voice. He wouldn't trick him, would he? Maybe the researchers bribed him, offered him some kind of reward for his capture. Maybe they're threatening him with bodily harm. Josh's mind conjures up awful images of Tyler, torn and bleeding, or shaking uncontrollably with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

"Josh, are you in here?"

He doesn't sound like he's being held hostage. Still, Josh can't bear to make a sound.

The closet door shifts, pushes open just a crack, and Tyler's face is just visible in the sliver of light that comes through. It's such a relief to see that he's okay that Josh almost starts crying, but fear makes him stay quiet.

Tyler blinks. His eyes adjust to the dim, then zero in on Josh. His voice is softer when he speaks this time. "Oh."

Abruptly, a big black nose wedges its way into the closet, lower to the floor, followed by an unhappy whimper. Panic races up Josh's spine, and he frantically tries to back himself up even further, but there's no room, so he's just scrabbling against the wall on the inside of the closet.

The nose disappears immediately, as does Tyler's face. "Jim, out!" There's a little more whimpering, then the sound of the bedroom door being shut. Slowly, Tyler's face reappears in the entrance to the closet.

Josh has to force his mouth to open, his throat to work. He rasps, "Are they gone?"

"They're gone," Tyler says immediately, assuring him. "They're gone, Josh. They left. It's okay."

Josh doesn't feel okay, though, not at all. He nods minutely.

Tyler wedges the door open a little further, but not all the way. "Do you think you can come out?"

The beast in Josh's mind snarls at the thought of abandoning the shelter it's found. His legs are pressed up against his chest, and his chin brushes his knees as he shakes his head.

"Can I come in?"

This is somehow less of an offense in the beast's mind, and so Josh nods. Tyler has to push the door open more to get in, making Josh tense up tight again, but it eases a little when he shuts the door behind him. It's dark again, and Josh jumps when Tyler's foot accidentally kicks his; it's cramped, too, what with Tyler's clothes and keyboard and various items taking up most of the space. 

It's cramped, but Tyler doesn't complain once. He crouches in front of Josh, fingers brushing hesitantly over his knee, like he's trying to figure out where Josh is.

At the contact, Josh's resolve weakens. When Tyler touches him again, this time on his arm, he shifts forward, wanting to be closer. Tyler opens his arms, and Josh wriggles up against his chest, head in the crook of Tyler's neck, arms tucked to his own chest.

Josh still believes himself a monster, and he knows he shouldn't accept Tyler's comfort this way, but in his shaken state he's unable to make himself shove him away.

Monsters can get scared, too. The whimpering beast in the back of his head is proof enough of that.

They hide there, together, for quite some time. Neither of them speaks once, though Tyler will occasionally hum or make some other soft, soothing noise in the back of his throat. He lets Josh curl up to him, pets his hair, rubs his back until his shaking starts to lessen.

As Josh's terror clears up, so does his head. It's obvious enough that the researchers left; he wouldn't still be here if they hadn't. How Tyler got them to leave is a mystery for the moment.

It's safe here, in the dark with Tyler, and only when Josh's legs begin to cramp does he finally tug on Tyler's sleeve. Tyler leans his head back to look at him, and when Josh nods, he lets him go, getting to his feet.

Getting out of the closet is harder than getting in. Josh stubs his toe on something--maybe the keyboard--on his way out, hair and clothes rumpled from squeezing past all of the stuff in the closet. It was the safest place he could find, at the time, but he does feel guilty now for making a scene. He hopes the closet isn't in too much disarray.

Almost the moment they're standing in Tyler's bedroom, there's a whine at the door. Josh jumps, startled, but quickly realizes it's not the whine of a dog whose prey is out of reach; it's anxious, maybe a little afraid.

Tyler gives him a soft look, brushes his thumb over Josh's palm. How long have they been holding hands? Josh isn't sure. "It's just Jim. I think he's worried about you."

Josh swallows, and he says, "You can let him in."

So Tyler does. Jim noses his way into the bedroom immediately, tail low but wagging. He makes a beeline for Josh, sniffing him all over and licking his knee. Josh lets go of Tyler's hand to sink to his knees, petting Jim all over and letting the dog comfort him. "It's okay. I'm okay, Jim."

Tyler remains standing, and Josh has to force himself to ignore the almost fond look in his eyes. "He's a good dog," Tyler says.

Josh scratches behind Jim's ears; Jim's tail wags harder. "Yeah."

A brief silence passes. Josh runs his hand over Jim's soft fur, over and over, rhythmic, reassuring, and Tyler watches. The argument they had earlier feels like a hundred miles away, but the more Josh calms down, the closer it creeps towards him. How could he falter so fast? How could he let Tyler so near to him after swearing he was dangerous?

"Will you be okay here for a minute?" Tyler asks quietly. Josh glances up at him. "Just gonna make some tea. You should probably stay put for a little while."

Josh doesn't have it in him to argue; terror is exhausting. "Yeah. Okay."

So Tyler goes. So Josh crouches, there, on the floor of Tyler's bedroom, petting Jim and trying to come back down to earth.

He's not hungry or thirsty, but the warmth of the mug Tyler brings him is a little comforting. They sit together on the floor, leaning against the foot of Tyler's bed, Jim laying at Josh's side. Though Tyler doesn't speak, Josh knows he will at some point, and he also knows he'll probably want answers that Josh doesn't want to give him.

He doesn't like his own answers. He doesn't like that it happened at all, but what can he do about it now? It's done. It's irreversible, at least as far as he knows.

You are our success story, they told him, eyes alight with excitement despite his screams. You will pave the way for others.

Josh shuts his eyes, cradling his mug of tea to his chest. Tyler's sat at his side, close enough that their shoulders are touching, but Josh won't allow himself any closer. He's risked Tyler's safety enough.

"Tell me what they told you," he says, quiet, because he needs to know, even if he doubts they were honest.

Tyler's quiet for a few seconds before he speaks. "They said there was... an escaped convict, from the prison in upstate. They were unarmed, but dangerous, and they hadn't been taking their medication."

It stings, but Josh doesn't flinch. "Medication for what?"

"Schizophrenia."

Josh lets out a brief huff of frustration.

"I told them I hadn't seen anything," Tyler says, and when Josh opens his eyes again, he sees him staring down at his mug of tea, like he feels bad for even talking to them in the first place. "Promised to call the police if I do."

That stings, too. Josh swallows, and says, "And will you?"

Tyler looks back at him, something pained in his eyes. He sets his mug of tea aside. "You know I won't."

"Maybe you should," Josh breathes.

"I'm not going to do that." Tyler touches Josh's arm, gentle, like he's trying to comfort him, but it only reminds Josh of how they just shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't.

He can't make himself pull away. "It might be for the best."

"For me?" Tyler pushes. "Or for you?"

Josh sets his tea next to Tyler's, drawing his knees up to his chest. Suddenly he can't look Tyler in the eyes again. "For you," he mumbles. "They won't hurt you if I'm not here. I wouldn't hurt you, either."

"Josh," Tyler says. "You haven't hurt me."

"But I-"

"No," he says, insistent, and his hand grabs Josh's, grip tight, pleading. "You're no more a monster than I am. You haven't hurt me, and I trust you not to. I trust it not to," he says, nosing at Josh's shoulder, and in the back of Josh's mind, the beast rears its ugly head.

"I shouldn't be here," Josh tells him, quiet, shaky.

"You should be somewhere safe," Tyler says. "From whoever's after you. I can morph, same as you. I've got your back. If anyone wants to hurt you, they'll have to get past me first." Tyler glances to Jim, still laying loyally at Josh's side. "Me and the dogs."

"I don't want you to risk your safety for mine," Josh answers.

Tyler noses at his shoulder again, almost like a headbutt this time. "Well, I'm sorry about that, but as someone who cares about you, I'm going to do it anyway." He huffs. "When we both morphed, when I bared my throat? That's a sign of trust between people like us. Don't you feel it?"

Tentatively, Josh reaches out in the fabric of his mind, and the beast responds immediately. He can feel its emotions or lack thereof all the time, but right now, it's answering Tyler's question. Something fierce in its strength, a loyalty. He doesn't quite have the word for it. It makes him think of two animals raised together, and the instinctual trust shared between.

It's an alien feeling, to him and to the animal that is not him, but it's very much there.

"I feel it," Josh admits quietly.

"It means I trust you," Tyler says. "It means I'm there for you if you need me, whenever. It means I trust you not to hurt me."

Josh says nothing.

When Tyler touches his hand, prompting, Josh offers up his palm, and their fingers link together. He shouldn't do this, he shouldn't do this, he shouldn't and he does.

This time, Josh does speak. "Trust is... it's hard for me." He doesn't elaborate.

"I don't know where you were before you came here, or what you were running from," Tyler whispers. "So I won't pretend that I know what it was like. But I understand that it's hard for you. I won't ask you to trust me."

Josh swallows, admitting, "I didn't say I couldn't. It's just hard."

Almost tentatively, Tyler asks, "Do you trust me?"

"I want to." He screws his eyes shut. "I don't think you'd purposely hurt me, or anything like that."

"Then what part are you struggling with?"

Josh considers this for a few seconds behind the safety of shut eyes. "I don't trust your judgment. You think it would never hurt you, but last night it wanted to tear your head off."

"It wanted to," Tyler agrees, surprising him. "But it didn't, did it?"

Josh mumbles a no.

"I don't know, but... maybe it's not me you're having trouble trusting." Tyler pauses. "Maybe you need to trust yourself."

Chapter Text

Tyler puts something bland on his TV, just to fill the silence. Josh stays put on the floor by the foot of the bed, Jim at his side, but after a while his back starts to hurt and Tyler is able to coax him into sitting on the mattress. Eventually, Josh is able to lay down without feeling like he has to hide again.

However, he gradually grows antsy again as the sky starts to darken, and the light in the bedroom echoes this. Tyler brings some leftovers from the kitchen and they eat, but despite the food in his stomach and the relative security of Tyler's room, Josh struggles to relax.

"We can sleep in the other room, if you'd be more comfortable there," Tyler says after a while, making Josh jump. Jim lifts his head from where it was resting on his paws, but when nothing else happens, he settles down again.

Tyler fidgets with the remote, but doesn't change the channel. "Or I can go," he says, not looking at Josh. "If you want to sleep alone. I won't be far if you need anything."

Josh absent-mindedly pets Jim's soft fur, lost in thought for a moment before he speaks. "I should sleep alone," he says, quiet. "I can take the guest room, though. I've intruded enough."

"You haven't," Tyler says, and he looks up, and for a tentative moment they just stare at one another. Josh is feeling that itch again, the one telling him to get closer, but he can no longer tell if it's the beast or his own selfish want.

He breaks their eye contact to look down at Jim, who is laying comfortably next to him. Tyler shifts, stands, gathering up their used dishes. He pauses for a moment; Josh sees him do it, out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll be in the other room tonight," Tyler says, soft. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to wake me."

Josh could disagree with him, but he feels guilty enough from their argument earlier, so he just nods his head in silence. And Tyler goes.

After a few moments, Josh switches off the light, and crawls under the covers. Jim, still on the bed, moves to the foot of it, leaning against Josh's leg for support. It's not too cold tonight, it would seem, just chilly enough to make being under blankets feel very cozy. Tyler's bed is large, warm, and comfortable. His room is safe.

Josh can't sleep.

He lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting. He shuts his eyes, rolls over, opens them again, looks at the digital clock on the nightstand, displaying the time: 10, 10:30, 11. By 11:30, his frustration has grown to the point that he can't take it. He's got to do something.

Jim jumps up when Josh slips out of bed, but he stays put when Josh gestures for him to. "I just need some air," he whispers, but that reminds him again the argument he had with Tyler that morning. He's still thinking about it as he steps out of the bedroom on sock-clad feet, unsure where he's even going. 

Why is it sticking with him so much?

Maybe it has something to do with the communication between him and Tyler, or the lack of it. Maybe it has something to do with how Tyler just trusts him despite the beast and its hostility towards anyone or anything it doesn't understand. Maybe it has something to do with the sad look in Tyler's eyes when he left the kitchen that morning, like he thought he wasn't coming back.

Would he have left for good if the people from the facility hadn't arrived in that moment? Where would he have gone?

It would have been stupid of him to leave, even if he'd wanted to. Tyler's home is the only security he's found since he escaped. He could have roamed the forest until he found somewhere else to stay--either within said forest or outside of it, if he stumbled upon civilization--but with no money, the pickings would be slim. His wounded leg would have slowed him down, and then...

Josh stops physically in the exact moment he stops his train of thought. He's standing in the hall just outside the guest room, and the door is almost entirely closed, only just cracked open so that the dogs can go in or out.

Tyler's house isn't the only security he's found. Tyler feels secure, too. Safe. Josh is the one that's dangerous.

Trust is dangerous, too. Trust is what got him into this whole mess, and trusting anyone, even himself, has been hard ever since. 

He does want to trust Tyler, still. Maybe he can't trust himself--the beast, specifically, if it really is connected with him in some way and isn't just an entity sharing his body. He certainly can't trust himself around Tyler. But, maybe, he can trust Tyler around him. With him.

Taking a breath, Josh quietly pushes open the bedroom door. He can see various dark shapes scattered on the floor, and one or two move when he steps into the room; Tyler's dogs. He approaches the bed, careful not to tread on any paws or tails, pausing before he touches the mattress.

Tyler lays there, on his side, hair mussed from sleep, eyes shut, breathing even and slow. Ned is laying on one of the pillows, and he sits up when he sees Josh, but doesn't make a sound. His eyes look black in the dim.

He stays silent even as Josh carefully climbs up onto the bed, over Tyler, to his usual spot. The space on the bed between Tyler and the wall feels safest to him, and he doesn't realize how much he needed it, how exposed he felt in Tyler's room, until he's fully laying down. A quiet huff of breath escapes his lips, and he stares up at the ceiling for a few seconds.

When Josh's eyes drop again, they settle on Tyler. Tyler, who is still laying on his side, but has shifted to prop his head up on the pillow unoccupied by Ned. His eyelids are heavy with sleep, lashes dark on his face. He looks pretty; he looks concerned. "Y' okay?"

The sight of him makes Josh's heart ache, but he tries to ignore it. "Yeah. I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's fine." Tyler nestles his head further into the pillow, seeming to relax more now that he knows Josh is alright. "Something happen?"

Josh hesitates, only for a second. No. No, he's tired of hesitating. He's not doing that with this, not tonight. "I need to tell you something."

Chapter Text

Tyler hums to acknowledge him, but when Josh doesn't continue, he shuffles, propping himself up with one arm to prove that he's listening. His voice still sounds sleepy when he speaks, but he overall looks more alert now. "Okay."

So Josh takes a deep breath. And he tells him.

It's a scary story, one he hasn't told anyone. He doesn't go into the darkest details of what they did to him at the facility, not wanting to even admit that those things happened, much less think about them, but he tells Tyler what he needs to know; what he probably should have told him some time ago, after he found out Tyler could morph in a manner akin to his own.

"I lived alone," Josh admits. "In Columbus. My parents... they've been kind of distant since I came out, so I guess in hindsight I understand why they didn't look too hard for me. If they did look for me." He stares at the sheets, eyes welling up with tears, but they don't fall.

Tyler nods slightly. "Obviously no pressure, but I'm accepting. If you want to get it off your chest or anything."

Telling his parents about that part of himself was so long ago and is so insignificant compared to the struggles he deals with now that he doesn't flinch, doesn't wince, doesn't even blink. "I'm gay."

"Cool. I'm bi." Tyler offers a crooked smile, reassuring in some way, enough to make Josh smile a little, too, before he remembers why he's here. "Sorry, off topic."

"It's fine." Josh takes a breath. "I was working this shitty job, barely covered everything, but it was the cheapest I could find. And then my landlord raised the rent."

"Bastard."

Josh huffs out something like a laugh. "You don't even know. I tried finding another job, but nobody was calling me back and I was gonna get evicted." His voice lowers, softens. "I was desperate."

Tyler doesn't speak again, just listens intently. His hand is in the space between them, and Josh is tempted to grab it for support, but he's afraid he might break down if he does. So, he keeps going.

"And then I saw this ad in the newspaper."

It had seemed almost too good to be true. A local medical research center was seeking volunteers to test a new flu vaccine. If he was chosen to be a part of the test group, he'd be given a shot, put under observation for a few hours, and would be paid two hundred dollars in cash. It was enough for that month's rent, maybe even help with the next.

He called in, gave them his information, and got contacted a few days later. They asked him some more questions before congratulating him; they'd decided he would be a perfect candidate for their research.

"I had to sign so much paperwork," Josh says quietly, shaking his head. "Too much. I should have read it more thoroughly. I should have realized it before it was too late."

Tyler makes a soft, sympathetic noise, and Josh can't grab his hand, can't look him in the eyes, but he needs him in this moment. He leans forward a little, into Tyler's space, finally resting his forehead on Tyler's shoulder, breathing into the dark and confessing the rest. Tentative, but there.

Josh didn't know it at the time, but he'd all but signed his life away.

They were nice to him, at first, even after he'd signed everything; probably trying to put him at ease. The nurse that gave him the 'vaccine' was sweet, an older woman who said she had a son just like him. The doctor in the room didn't speak, just observed and scribbled down notes on a clipboard, but they weren't outright unkind to him.

He had to stay for observation, just to be sure the vaccine wouldn't harm him; though, the doctor assured him, it was completely harmless. "It's just a precaution," they told him with a smile.

One hour in, Josh's arm started to ache. Not a big deal, right? Vaccines hurt. He'd had similar reactions in the past to standard vaccines, so he didn't think too much of it. He tried to go back to the magazine he was reading.

Two hours in, he felt a little feverish. When the nurse came by to check on him, Josh told her this. She assured him that this was a common reaction, but that he should press the call button in his room if it got any worse.

Three hours in, and Josh was in so much pain he could barely breathe. Three hours in, and he was beginning to understand why they'd had him sign so much paperwork, why they'd isolated him behind a locked door and reinforced walls, why the money seemed too good to be true.

It was his first morph. He wouldn't remember much of it, later, no details; only the pain, the act of becoming something else, and the doctors crowded at the observation window, seemingly excited over whatever their serum had done.

He passed out after morphing back. The next few days, he was in a stupor, delirious, feverish. He woke up in the back of a van, handcuffed to the wall, too exhausted to keep his eyes open. This happened twice more before he arrived at the facility.

They'd tested him, there, again and again. Trying to see what would induce the morphing process, what would speed it up or slow it down. Seeing how much pain, blood loss, torment that he could tolerate in that state. Trying to extend how long he remained in his morph state, to push and pull and poke at him until the beast snapped, just to see what it would do.

It was a horrible thing, especially in those earlier days, when Josh had been so hurt and so scared that he barely slept at night. The researchers were so fascinated by it, though; it was like they hadn't expected their serum to work. Once or twice, he overheard them talking amongst themselves, saying that he was the only successful test subject.

Josh didn't know how many others there were, or what had happened to them. Maybe the serum didn't work on them the way it did on Josh. Maybe it had killed them, or the researchers had had them killed so they wouldn't be a liability. He thought he was the only one.

And then he found Tyler. Or, Tyler found him. He doesn't know which one is true anymore.

"Josh," Tyler says, soft, and he's gently put an arm around him, loose, in case Josh decides to leave, but he doesn't. He doesn't.

"They made me," Josh confesses into the warmth of Tyler's shoulder. It feels like pulling shrapnel.

And Tyler says, "They made you do what?"

Josh shakes his head, his lungs aching. He curls his fingers into the front of Tyler's shirt. "They made me," he says again, and again. "They made me. I was a person and then I..."--no tears come to his eyes, but he has to choke down a sob--"And then I wasn't."

Tyler doesn't speak, but he tightens his arm around him, pulling Josh to his chest properly, and Josh lets him. Josh's head dips a little lower, pressing his face into Tyler's collarbone now, taking in lungful after lungful of air, trying to calm down.

"Match your breaths to mine," Tyler says, soft, encouraging, and Josh tries. How he feels now is more than emotional--he's not panicking, and he's not scared. He's hurt. They hurt him, they made him with no regard to what he wanted or what kind of life he might have had before. He's just an experiment gone too far.

The tension doesn't leave him, but eventually he's able to slow his breaths back to something resembling normalcy. He's still flush against Tyler; Josh can't help taking one last deep breath. He smells like pine and snowstorms. Wet dog.

"I won't let them hurt you," Tyler tells him, quiet. "Not tonight, not ever again." He grips the sleeve of Josh's shirt tight before letting go. "I can't believe someone could just- god."

Josh exhales slowly, but he has nothing else to say. There's something in Tyler's intensity that makes the beast stir in the back of his head.

"Do you want to stay here for tonight?" Tyler asks, and Josh knows he's not just talking about his home. Tyler has invited him into his bed, into his arms, again and again. Maybe it's the instinct he talks about, the need for an animal to be around others of its kind. Maybe it's something else.

Josh doesn't know, and he doesn't ask. He just nods his head into Tyler's chest, and mumbles an apology. "I'm sorry- that I'm not- one or the other. That I'm not like you."

"Like me?"

"Natural," Josh says immediately. He lets out a shaky breath before adding, "Beautiful. You're- It's natural on you. It fits. It makes sense."

"It didn't always feel that way." Tyler's fingers brush Josh's curls, tentative with his touch, but not his voice. "It took practice for me to get better."

"You think it would if I practiced?"

"I do, yeah." Tyler's tone lowers again. "But I won't make you. It's just- I don't know. I feel like I'm being pushy just because I'm more experienced with it."

"It's not like I've got any better ideas." Despite the difficulties the past twenty-four hours have brought, despite the ache in his chest, Josh chuckles under his breath. "You've got years of morphing under your belt. I've only got one."

"One," Tyler echoes, then curls his fingers into Josh's sleeve again. His voice rises in pitch. "Josh, they kept you there for a whole year like this?"

Somehow, Tyler's reaction to this knowledge helps Josh settle; perhaps because someone knows. Someone besides himself and the awful people who did this to him. "Yeah."

"A year- I ought to break their-" Tyler's voice darkens, his grip on Josh tightens, and there's something like a growl in his throat. He tucks his head over Josh's, almost protective, and the beast is startled, but it doesn't freak out. He shifts closer, instead, drawing in Tyler's scent, and the feeling of knowing someone would fight to keep you safe.

Is that what this is? Would Tyler do that? Does Josh even want him to?

After a few seconds, Tyler's grip goes slack again, and he clears his throat. His voice is back to normal again. "Sorry. I'm- Sorry."

"It's fine," Josh says, and for the first time tonight, he feels comfortable. Sleepy, even. His eyes are shut, lashes brushing Tyler's shirt, and gradually, he begins to let go of the lingering tension in his body. "Thank you."

Tyler's tone is puzzled. "What for?"

Josh's breaths have turned slow, sweet and heavy in the way that lets him know he's going to fall asleep. "Everything."

Chapter Text

When he wakes, sunlight peeking through his shut eyes, he knows it's morning. His first thought, still slow in that sleepy way, is Tyler, and he reaches out blindly. His fingers brush soft fabric, the warmth beneath it, and he shifts closer, settling again once he's sure Tyler is here. 

Josh's second thought of the morning is that he feels weirdly okay.

Telling Tyler where he came from and how he came to be able to morph was exhausting, emotionally, and it was hard to get the words out, but now that he's done it... he feels almost free. It's like the whole thing was locked up in the back of his throat, keeping him on edge, and when he spilled his secrets, it all came loose.

Tyler knows. He knows Josh is unnatural, and yet, he's still here. He hasn't thrown him out or acted disgusted or treated him like a monster. He held him. He comforted him, promised to protect him if the researchers and their lackeys came for him. He knows what Josh is, and he doesn't care. He hasn't changed his mind.

Maybe Tyler is just one person. But that's one person more than Josh had before.

He starts slightly when he feels the bed shake, but when Josh lifts his head, he sees it's just Jim. The golden retriever has hopped up onto the bed, which is already a bit small for two people. Josh waves a hand at him to get down, not wanting him to wake Tyler, but if Jim understands this, he doesn't care. Instead, he moves closer, making himself at home in the scant space between Josh and Tyler.

And it is scant, because when Josh is tired like this, it's a little harder for him to make himself stay back.

Tyler makes a muffled noise when Jim noses at his ear, his face still pressed into the pillow. Josh wrinkles his nose, in turn, when Jim happily turns to lick his face.

"Good morning to you, too," he says quietly, gently pushing Jim back so he won't lick him again.

Tyler makes another noise, perhaps frustrated, and rolls over. His eyes are narrowed against the sunlight coming through the curtains, and his t-shirt is rumpled, and there it is, that first sleepy smile of the day. Josh can't help the fondness that stirs in his heart.

"He's jealous," Tyler mumbles, reaching up to pet the dog.

Josh yawns. "Who? Jim?"

"Oh, yeah." Tyler scratches behind Jim's ears; Jim's tail wags. "Aren't you, buddy?"

"Of what?"

"Me," Tyler answers easily, sitting up. His tone goes a little higher in pitch when he talks to the dog, which only makes Jim's tail wag harder. "You get to hang around with Josh all day, Jimmy. It's only fair I get to be his cuddle buddy sometimes."

Josh's face feels warm. "It's only fair," he agrees as he sits up beside him. He can feel Tyler's eyes on him, having shifted his way, and he shouldn't look, but he does.

The space between them is suddenly warm in a way that is decidedly not sleepy, more so in a way that makes Josh's heart palpitate. They're not that close; they're still close. Josh can feel Tyler's breath on his cheek, the heat of his body like an aura, reaching out to him despite the fact they're not touching. Tyler's eyes are soft and lingering and beautiful, and god, Josh can't do this to him.

He can't stop himself either, though, so just before it's too late, he reaches out, putting a hand on Tyler's chest to stop him from leaning in. He can feel his heartbeat beneath his palm, racing just as quickly as his own.

It's impossible for him to read Tyler's expression, so he has no idea what he might be feeling. Still, he feels guilty, even though he knows he can't let this happen. God, he can't.

"Let me help you with breakfast today," he offers quietly, as a sort of apology.

It might be his imagination, but he swears that Tyler leans into his touch for a long moment before he pulls back. "Yeah," Tyler says, and his voice is raw from sleep and whatever tension is between them, and it makes Josh swallow. "Yeah, okay."

They stay a safe distance away from one another for the rest of the morning.

Was it an almost kiss? Josh is afraid to answer his own question. Frankly, he feels guilty for even asking it.

It quickly becomes just like every other incident between them: something they don't talk about, like it never even happened. These incidents, being little dips into something distinctly unfriendly, have been increasing as time goes on, anyway, but Josh thinks this is the closest they've ever come to fully giving in to them.

Too many casual touches on the arms and knees, too many sleepy cuddles and warm hugs when it gets cold or when Josh is haunted by things he won't talk about. Too many lingering glances and sweeping gazes and outright stares. 

At first, he was able to convince himself they meant nothing. Tyler is a compassionate person with a soft spot for anyone in need--that much is evident, based on his little pack of stray dogs, rescued from various situations. It was easy enough to believe that he's just trying to comfort Josh and calm him down with all the casual touch, preventing an unwanted morphing incident. The staring could be put down to curiosity, or perhaps he's just imagining that altogether.

The more time they spend together, though--the more time Josh spends here, in Tyler's home, in his bed and in his arms--he comes to understand that this isn't necessarily the case. 

They touch when the weather is fair, and when Josh is already calm enough to be safe from a possible morph. The staring continues, usually when Tyler thinks he's not looking, but sometimes when they both know he is, and then their eyes meet, and then Josh has to break away, or he'll go crazy.

Nothing they do ever firmly crosses the line between companionship and feelings, but they do toe that line very closely. Tyler holds Josh's hand when they wake up next to each other in the morning; Josh traces patterns into the knee of Tyler's jeans when he falls asleep on the couch during a shitty movie.

He should stop himself, but it's hard. It's so hard.

Chapter Text

It gets even harder to handle when Tyler asks him to morph with him again. Though still worried something will go wrong, Josh is beginning to grow a tiny seed of hope in his heart, one that tells him something could go right and he could well and truly manage this. Tentatively, he says yes.

A light snow is beginning to fall as they go out onto the porch. Josh is still antsy about going out with the dogs, so they're shut in the house again. Since his first morph with Tyler, though, they haven't barked at him once, or shown any signs of being afraid of him like they were when he morphed alone.

It's too cold to get naked, but Tyler does, anyway. Josh doesn't cover his eyes this time, but keeps them firmly shut. "Aren't you freezing?"

"Nah," Tyler answers, but Josh can hear his teeth chattering.

"Liar."

Tyler laughs, and shoves Josh's shoulder lightly; Josh jumps at the contact, a rush of warmth making his face flush. "C'mon, your turn. I won't look, I promise."

As Josh undresses, eyes open but pointedly staring anywhere but Tyler's direction, he realizes Tyler's right. He won't look, because he said he wouldn't. Josh believes he wouldn't.

Is that trust? Is it trust to be so vulnerable with someone he's only known for two months?

The snow just keeps falling, and Josh just keeps shaking. He won't look at Tyler, he won't, but he can hear him moving a bit away, can hear the labored breath and yes, the creak of twisting joints and the snap of bone.

Just like last time, Josh's morph begins when Tyler's ends. The rush of pain is almost warm compared to the freezing bite of winter, and Josh sinks to his knees on the porch, fingers scrabbling at the wood beneath until they turn to claws. It's not any easier than last time, nor any quicker, but when it's over--and it is over, with the animal that is Josh standing on wobbly legs--he's aware of it all. The beast, be it instinct or another creature altogether, is allowing him to share. It would have been unthinkable a few weeks ago.

The snow brings cold, but Josh's fur is thick, and it does little more than cool him down after exerting himself. Tyler is there, his own coat frosted with white, ears perked as he stands. From what Tyler's told him, and based on what he's observed, Josh knows he doesn't experience pain after his morphing is complete. He's not trying to get his bearings; he's waiting for Josh to be ready. He's patient.

Josh appreciates this, but can't express it in a human way. Instead, once he feels like he can walk without falling over, he takes a tentative step towards Tyler, and leans into his side.

Tyler's tail is wagging; it dusts some of the snow off the porch. It's almost a comical sight.

When Josh is ready, they run again. It's a fast-paced game, one initiated by Tyler, who paws at the ground in front of Josh before turning and sprinting into the forest. When Josh catches up with him--and he does, now and again, when Tyler is slowed down by thick snow or other obstacles--he tackles him.

The first time this happens, he's afraid he hurt him. The beast's instincts are powerful, thus Josh doesn't realize he's practically bowled Tyler over until it's happened. In a flash of dark fur, Tyler tumbles right into a thick snowdrift, and disappears.

Nervously, Josh approaches, ears flat, a whine building up in the back of his throat, but just as his nose brushes the snow, Tyler leaps out of the bank and butts his head into Josh's shoulder, tail wagging. He's covered in snow, some of it melting due to his body temperature, some of it frosting over again, but Josh is more concerned about what lays beneath.

He refuses to continue their game until he's sure Tyler's unharmed, circling him several times. It's not just Josh's desire to avoid hurting him, either; the beast seems to be in agreement, and it doesn't let him rest until he's nosed all over Tyler's pelt, making sure that he's not bleeding or bruised.

To his credit, Tyler doesn't protest at all, just stands patient, wagging his tail and waiting until Josh is satisfied. He butts his head into Josh's shoulder again, after, like he's assuring him that he's okay, and then he paws at the ground before bounding off into the woods.

They play like this for a few hours, kicking up snow and wet leaves, and each getting their fair share of exercise. It really is like having a dog, Josh figures; he has to let it out now and then, to let it run around and wear itself out so it stops crawling up the walls.

Josh chases Tyler, and Tyler allows himself to be chased, only fighting back whenever Josh tackles him. Though he's still unsure of his own strength, Tyler does seem to be sturdier than expected, and even after a good amount of wrestling bodies and kicking feet, he never breaks skin.

Tyler only wins one wrestling match; although, Josh suspects that he's letting him win the rest of the time, as he's quite clumsy and uncoordinated in this form. Whenever Josh wins, having successfully pinned him down, Tyler will throw his head back and bare his throat to show he surrenders. Like the first time, it's a sign of trust, a vulnerability that Josh is still trying to wrap his head around, even as it keeps him grounded in this morph.

When Tyler wins, Josh is initially tense. The beast is tense, too, reminded of other times when it was trapped, back at the facility. For a few seconds, Josh fears that it will try to shove him out and attack Tyler.

But this isn't the facility. This is the forest behind Tyler's home, and Tyler is standing over him, tail high and eyes bright, head tilted just so like he's waiting for an answer. And so, afraid as he is, Josh dares to be vulnerable, and to trust, if only briefly. He bares his throat.

Tyler lets him up right away, seemingly keen on Josh's nerves, and after Josh is on his paws again, he leans into him, resting his head across Josh's shoulders in what Josh decides is something like a hug. It's soothing, at least, and he echoes the act before Tyler releases him, and their game continues.

It only ends when Tyler has led them back to the house. Josh is grateful again for this; he doesn't know the woods very well, and with the snow coming down like it is, it'd be easy for him to get lost if he were by himself. He'd probably be fine in this shape, but if he morphed back on his own, he'd almost definitely freeze.

Morphing in this way is sudden; it's hormonal, as Tyler said it. It's triggered, sharp and demanding, when he sees Tyler morph, either forwards or backwards, so whenever he starts, Josh isn't far behind.

Once he's human again, the snow is suffocating in its cold, and Josh shakes like a leaf even after Tyler drapes a blanket around him. Only when they go back inside does he begin to come down from the pain of morphing and the freezing weather outside.

The house is warm, but Tyler is warmer, and in his muddled state of mind, Josh is drawn to him even more than usual. He practically clings to Tyler as they both shuffle towards the bedroom, stumbling over the dogs that trail after them.

Tyler grabs a quilt from the closet and tosses it over the bed, crawling beneath it a few seconds later to join Josh. Even still, beneath this warmth, he isn't satisfied. His chill is fading, but that's not what he's trying to rectify; it's a need for closeness, pure and simple, that urges him on.

He butts his head into Tyler's shoulder, light, afraid of what he might say. They didn't talk after the last morph--he's not sure why, but for whatever reason, the words stick in his throat--and neither of them seems particularly chatty this time, either. Most of Josh's energy has been sapped out of him, and from the way Tyler's eyes are half shut, it's easy to see he feels the same way.

He doesn't say anything at all. Instead, his eyelashes flutter, drowsy, and he rolls over to face Josh, still laying on his side. When Josh touches his arm, tentative, Tyler welcomes him--encourages him--by throwing an arm around Josh's waist, drawing him closer.

Though the temptation is there, Josh doesn't kiss him; he knows it's a bad idea, even in his exhausted state. To prevent any further awkward almost-kisses, Josh wriggles close, nudging Tyler until he lays on his back again, and resting his head on his chest.

He makes for a surprisingly good pillow. Before he knows it, Josh is out like a light.

Chapter Text

And then someone knocks on the front door.

Josh starts awake at the sound, scrambling away from Tyler in his haste and accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. Tyler grunts, groggily sitting up and mumbling something Josh doesn't catch.

They're still relatively wrapped in their blankets, but they're naked beneath. This doesn't concern Josh so much as the fact that someone is here, and he presses his back into the corner where the bed meets the wall, heart pounding so fast and hard that it almost hurts.

The knocking on the front door echoes this; it's louder than yesterday, more like a banging. The dogs have already torn out of the room, racing to the door barking in various tones. Even Jim is gone.

Tyler still looks confused, ragged, like he's not awake yet, and Josh wants to warn him. He wants to tell him that the people who do the researchers' dirty work are rough and cruel, and they won't care if they hurt Tyler or the dogs in the process of getting to him. He wants to tell him he's going to take off into the woods and never come back, because the thought of Tyler or the dogs getting hurt because they were protecting him is agonizing. He wants to tell Tyler he's afraid, that he's sorry, that he shouldn't have gotten attached but he has.

But Josh's throat is tight, and he can't speak. The visitor banging on the door shouts before he can, anyway.

"Tyler! I know you're home, dude, your car's in the garage! You up or what?"

They both flinch at the sound, but Tyler seems to wake up further as he forces himself out of bed, clutching his blanket to his body. "In a second!" he yells back as he stumbles to the bedroom door.

Just before he leaves, he stops to look back at Josh, and something in his face changes. He doesn't yell again, lowering his tone down to something gentler. "Hey. Sorry- It's okay. It's not them. It's my brother."

Josh still can't speak. He swallows, but otherwise remains frozen in the corner.

In his panic, he doesn't register Tyler drawing closer again, only being aware of it when he touches Josh's arm, briefly tucks a curl behind his ear. "He's okay, I promise. Will you be okay here for a couple minutes?"

Now that it's clear that this isn't the researchers--they wouldn't make themselves so obvious, nor would they call Tyler 'dude'--the beast crawls back into place from where it had been cowering in the back of his skull. It's still afraid, definitely still cautious, but Josh lets it reach out to him, that instinct, and it tells him he can trust Tyler.

He nods, quick and slight. Tyler holds his hand for a second, squeezing it before he leaves the room alone.

And that leaves Josh.

His heart is still racing, and he stays put in the corner, quiet as a mouse. If he tilts his head just so, if he lets the beast crawl a little further into his consciousness, he can clearly hear sounds from across the house. Tyler is moving around in his room, probably getting dressed, and the stranger--Tyler's brother--is still on the step. At least he's not knocking or yelling anymore.

Then Josh hears Tyler cross the house again, towards the door. He holds his breath when the door opens.

He can't sense Tyler's reaction, not from here, but his voice isn't agitated. The other voice is quite similar, a little deeper than Tyler's; he doesn't recognize it. It's not one of the researchers, or at least not one he knows.

Josh hasn't seen another person besides Tyler or the researchers since his escape.

After a few seconds, he remembers something Tyler said before they first morphed together. My brothers and I used to play together all the time. Tyler's brothers, presumably including this one, can morph like Tyler does.

As the distant voices move to the kitchen, Josh slowly gets up off the bed, shuffling across the carpet. Tyler can be trusted, he reminds himself silently, then slowly opens the dresser against the wall, pulling out a shirt and sweatpants; Tyler's started leaving a change or two of clothes there for him.

Once he's dressed, he leaves his blanket on the bed, glancing back to it for a moment. But, no. This isn't the time to dwell on last night, and the beast sternly reminds him of this. Josh, who knows he shouldn't dwell on last night at all, is inclined to agree.

As he slips out of the bedroom--as he moves through the house, quietly as he can--Josh can pick up the voices of Tyler and his brother better. Again, he tries not to pay attention to the words they're saying, but his ears pick up something important.

"-had known you had someone over, I wouldn't have knocked so loud." That's Tyler's brother. Josh freezes.

Tyler's tone is casual, revealing nothing. "Who says I do?"

"C'mon, Tyler. I'm not dumb."

A pause, then, "It's not like that." A quiet laugh, not from Tyler, who protests. "It's not- Zack, listen. This isn't what you're thinking it is."

"Sure." Zack's tone is light, teasing, like he somehow knows this situation when Josh himself still doesn't. "What is it, then?"

Josh's heart pounds, but Tyler--loyal Tyler--doesn't say a word. Josh's secret is safe.

"That's what I thought," Zack says smugly, as if Tyler's silence answered his question for him. "I may be getting over a cold, but I'd have to be noseblind not to notice; I can smell him all over you, dude. Is this like a one night thing, or...?"

He hears Tyler's soft huff of frustration, but he says, "It's not a one night thing."

Josh's heart is pounding, quick as a mouse. Zack's wrong about all this, obviously, but... maybe it's safer, for him and Tyler, if he believes that. 

"Well, I'm happy for you." A brief pause. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"Thank you," comes Tyler's soft reply. "I wasn't. But thank you."

"You should bring him around for dinner, or something. Mom and Dad will be thrilled."

"Shut up." Josh can't see him, but he can imagine that familiar Tyler smile beginning to make an appearance. "So, is there a reason you tried to break down my front door?"

"I need to borrow your snowblower, if you're not using it."

"I'm not. C'mon, I'll help you load it up."

Josh listens as Tyler and his brother move from the kitchen to the side door, the one that leads to the garage. Shakily, he exhales, letting himself press his back to the wall a little. He's relieved, even as new questions swim through his head.

I can smell him all over you. It's not like that. Tyler's silence, saying more than his words.

It isn't like that. Josh knows better than to want it to be anything else. Or, he should.

The dogs have followed Tyler and Zack into the garage, leaving Josh alone in the house, but he's okay with this for now. With his instincts insisting he remain quiet, he creeps into the kitchen for a glass of water. 

By the time he hears the door to the garage open again, Zack's truck has started up. Despite the fact that Zack is most likely the driver of said truck--meaning Tyler is the one coming into the house--Josh's senses sharpen, alert, ready to escape if he's wrong.

It's Tyler. Mercifully, Zack isn't with him. Josh can scarcely hear his truck pulling out of the driveway over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

"He's leaving," Tyler says, obviously, but Josh knows he's just trying to reassure him. He doesn't quite meet Josh's eyes as he crosses the room, gently nudging the dogs aside when they get under his feet. "You okay?"

Should he tell him how much he overheard? Josh's heart is still palpitating, but he nods his head, more jerky and stiff than intended.

Tyler stops with his hand on the handle of the fridge, and this time he does look at him properly. "You sure?"

Josh opens his mouth, but no words come out. He's not in danger of morphing--he doesn't think so, anyway--but he's still rattled by the sudden appearance and disappearance of a stranger. The conversation he eavesdropped on lingers, too, in the back of his throat and behind his eyes.

He doesn't need to look Tyler in the eyes to know he sees something is still up. Lightly, in case he isn't open to touch right now, Tyler abandons the fridge in favor of resting a hand on Josh's arm. "You don't have to say, if you don't want."

"I heard what you said," Josh blurts out, half hoping it'll slow his heart rate, but it doesn't. "To your brother."

Tyler's hand drops to his side, letting Josh go. His eyes are low with guilt, and he chews on the corner of his lip. "I didn't tell him anything about what happened to you. Or where you came from."

"I know."

"He said he had a cold, too," Tyler continues, gesturing vaguely with one hand, not looking at him. "So he probably couldn't smell that you can morph. He wouldn't-"

"Tyler," Josh says quietly. "It's okay."

He stops, leaning back on the counter again. His hand is still on Josh's arm. "Sorry."

Silence slides between them. There's something nagging at Josh's mind, something besides the obvious fact that oh yeah, Tyler just let his brother believe he and Josh are sleeping together. It makes more sense than the truth, he supposes, and he doesn't want anyone to know what happened to him, nor where he came from; he only told Tyler because he needed to know, because he--

"You said it's genetic," Josh says, before his train of thought can fly off the rails completely. "You and your brother can morph?"

He thinks he sees something like relief in Tyler's eyes. "I have two brothers and a sister, but all four of us can morph, yeah. Dad, too."

Josh tries to imagine it: a house full of people a little like him, people that aren't one hundred percent people. "That must have been... a lot."

"It was sometimes. But it wasn't as bad as you're probably picturing." Tyler gives him a half smile. "Kinda crazy for Mom, trying to wrangle a house of wolves all the time."

"She couldn't morph?"

"No." 

Josh lets that sink in. "Can't imagine explaining that one on a first date."

Tyler bursts into laughter; eyes bright, hand squeezing Josh's arm. "Yeah, no kidding. He loves telling that story. Waited a year into their relationship before he told her. The first time she saw him morph, she fainted."

A laugh of his own escapes him. "I can imagine."

Tyler eventually turns to start making breakfast, pouring cereal and milk. Josh has the guts to let the dogs in from the garage; they seem pleased to see him, sniffing his sweatpants. For a few seconds, Josh is an island in a sea of dogs, and it should frighten him, maybe... but it doesn't. 

The dogs are being friendly. Tails are wagging, ears are relaxed, teeth are safely out of sight. Jim brings the warmest welcome, lingering by Josh's side even after the other dogs have moved on to the kitchen. His fluffy golden tail is wagging back and forth so hard that it keeps hitting the door frame.

Josh doesn't really know what compels him to do it, but before he can think about it, he sinks to his knees. Jim is sitting now; his paws come up over Josh's shoulders, tail wagging harder as he licks all over Josh's face. Josh wrinkles his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, but he wraps his arms around Jim in return, petting, hugging. 

"You wound me," comes Tyler's voice, dramatic.

Josh turns his head away from Jim, who continues kissing the side of his face. Tyler is standing in the hallway between the kitchen and the door to the garage, a hand over his heart as he looks down at Josh and Jim. "What?"

A sigh from Tyler, feigning disappointment. "I'm used to being the favorite when it comes to the dogs, but I think Jim likes you better."

"That's not true," Josh says. Or, tries to say, because Jim licks his ear and he finally pushes him off, a little grossed out. He knows his face must be covered in dog slobber. Yuck.

"He doesn't love all over me like that," Tyler points out. Jim is sitting next to Josh on the floor, no longer licking him, but his tail is still wagging, tongue hanging out of his mouth. "You'll have the others converting soon enough."

"You think so?" Josh wipes his face with his sleeve, getting to his feet. Jim echoes him, making Tyler smirk before he turns and leads the way back into the kitchen.

"Oh, sure. You're very charming." It's a joke, Josh knows that, but he can't help the little jump his heart makes in his chest when Tyler says it. "I'm sure you're used to being the favorite."

Josh takes a seat at the kitchen table, where a bowl of cereal is waiting. "No, actually."

Tyler hums, pouring a cup of coffee for himself, another for Josh. "My parents always said they didn't play favorites, but between you and me, I think they spoiled my sister an awful lot." He doesn't seem particularly upset about it, though, just smiling as he turns to open the fridge.

Again, the mention of Tyler's family. Josh is still trying to wrap his head around the concept of multiple morphs in one space, existing without violence or the threat of it. His own morph is still on edge with just Tyler present. "What are they like?"

"Who?" Tyler slides Josh's coffee cup across the table; he catches it before it can slosh all over the place. 

"Your family, I guess."

Tyler seems to pause. Hurriedly, Josh adds, "You don't have to say. I'm just curious. I didn't grow up- like this. With this." He stumbles.

"No, no, it's fine." Tyler's smile reassures him. "I just miss them. We only get the whole group together for Christmas 'cause everybody's busy with their own stuff now."

So they eat. So they eat, and Tyler talks, and Josh listens, even well after their cereal is gone. The dogs lounge around the dining room, Ned happily curled up in Tyler's lap, and Jim laying at Josh's feet, as if they, too, are curious to hear what it's like to grow up knowing you will be able to morph one day.

To hear Tyler tell it, it was... normal. His tone is casual, perhaps warm and wistful in places, as though recalling a more common childhood memory, like swimming at the rec center instead of chasing rabbits in the woods.

The ability to morph only came in his teen years. It was hard, the first time, hurt him more then than it has before or since. Once in his new shape, he was lost, frightened. This animal, not quite one thing or another, had been a part of him always, but now it was outside of him as opposed to inside.

But unlike Josh's first morph, Tyler did not have to go through it alone.

"My dad took me outside," Tyler recalls, almost fondly. "I was used to his morph, but looking at something is different from being it. I was unsteady. He was patient."

They didn't run around that day; Tyler had to learn how to move on four legs instead of two, had to learn to adjust to his newly heightened senses of sound and scent. To hear him tell it, it was confusing, perhaps embarrassing at times--he apparently tripped over his own paws a lot--but he had a guide.

He was the first, the oldest of his siblings. Later, alongside his father, Tyler would help his brother Zack learn to manage his own morph; later, his sister, and his younger brother.

"Once we were all adjusted to it, it was pretty great." Tyler's eyes gleam as he tells this story; it must be a good memory. "We would morph every weekend in our rooms, then come barrelling out. Mom always scolded us once we got older; we were too big to run around indoors. We kept knocking stuff off tables." 

Jim has settled with his head on Josh's knee, now. Josh pets him absentmindedly, trying to imagine four adolescent versions of Tyler's morph in one place. "I'm guessing she didn't let you play in the house in that state."

And Tyler smiles. "No. We always wanted to be outside then, anyway. More room to run around."

They chased each other, in a game not unlike the one Tyler has been prompting Josh into when they morph together. They chased rabbits when they could find them, though four loud, large, scampering animals tended to scare prey away. They play-fought, wrestling and kicking and snapping, never sinking teeth beyond thick coats, always watched over by Tyler's father, who would typically morph with them.

At the end of the night, Tyler's mother would call them in, and they'd trudge up to their rooms, less haphazardly this time, subdued as they were by all the exercise. Tyler says he barely remembers morphing back on nights like those; he was so tired, he'd just collapse into bed in one shape and wake up in the other come morning.

It's so different from Josh's experience that he's not sure what to say, so he mostly lets Tyler talk, recounting memories of a beginning Josh didn't have. It makes him ache with the wish that he hadn't been so alone when he started morphing. It's a little bit worth it, though, to hear the warmth in Tyler's voice when he talks about his family, to see the light in his eyes. Josh would never admit to basking in it, but that's what he does.

Chapter Text

After Zack leaves, there's a question on the tip of Josh's tongue, one he won't dare let himself speak aloud.

To be honest, he's not sure what the question actually is. He keeps probing it in the back of his mind like a loose tooth, unable to let it go. Waiting for it to make sense, for the words to come to him in a complete sentence.

Your brother said, it starts once. You let him think we, it starts another time. You don't mind if he thinks that, That's not what we're, Have you thought about, Do you want. And so on. So many beginnings, and a distinct lack of endings.

They don't morph together that night, it being far too soon after the night previous. Josh is in no immediate danger of morphing against his will, either; the beast is seemingly sated, having successfully worn itself out enough to the point where it is willing to let Josh take near-complete control while it rests. There's no real reason for Tyler and Josh to sleep in the guest room together.

But, they do. More than once, as they separately dress for bed and come together again to settle down, Josh tries to come up with some excuse as to why they shouldn't do this.

He has a reason, he feels, not to get any more attached to Tyler than he already is. That reason being this: Tyler is good, and Josh, despite his attempts at otherwise, is not entirely.

Sure, the morphing he and Tyler went through last night went well enough, but the animal that is not Josh is, again, not Josh It's something else, something born of pain and indifference, shoved into a body it hates and a world it does not understand. It knows enough to recognize Tyler as being close to one of its own kind, and it doesn't hurt him because of this, but it's unpredictable. It could change its mind at any moment.

It's too easy for Josh to imagine the beast reacting badly to a move Tyler could make, no matter how innocent. He could turn too fast, make too loud of a noise, remind it in any way of its past in the facility. And it could snap.

Tyler is in control. Tyler is good, and deserves good things. Josh won't fuck up his life any more than he already has.

He doesn't know how to explain this to Tyler, though, so doesn't say it aloud. He lays down in the bed in the guest room, quiet, allowing Tyler to turn off the lamp and crawl in next to him.

The dogs are there, too, most laying on the floor. Tyler brought in some of the dog beds normally kept in the living room, and they seem quite happy to cuddle up together here. Only Ned and Jim lay on the bed; the former curled up on Tyler's pillow, behind his head, and the latter sleeping along the end of the bed by their feet. A bit crowded, maybe, but Josh isn't going to complain.

Josh isn't going to complain, even if this is wrong, because he's warm and safe and Tyler's here. There's not much more he could ask for, here, in a space like this.

Or, there is, but he wouldn't dare.

He keeps his hands to himself. He keeps himself to himself, and Tyler doesn't push it.

Despite being comfortable, Josh has trouble falling asleep. He shifts, rolls over, trying to find a position that will finally satisfy him, but none does, and he doesn't want to move too much, lest he disturb Tyler and the dogs. After a while, he gives up on trying to trick his body into sleeping, instead laying on his side, facing Tyler.

He's facing Tyler, who is also laying on his side, facing Josh. His eyes are shut, but almost the moment Josh looks at him, they flick open.

The two of them stay very still for a moment, neither wanting to disrupt the peace. Tyler's visibly sleepy, but awake, eyelashes flickering on his cheeks as he tries to keep his eyes from slipping shut again. Guilt twists in Josh's gut; he probably woke him with all his wriggling around.

"Sorry," he whispers, his voice dying at the end of the apology. Maybe it's because he feels bad for waking him. Maybe it's because Tyler looks like the kind of soft that only comes with sleepiness, with absolute physical and mental contentment.

"'S okay," Tyler answers with a tired smile. "Can't sleep?"

Josh hesitates, and Tyler must see it, must know, but he lets him take his time. The problem is, though, that time won't help him come to a conclusion. Time won't help him explain to Tyler--to himself--the way he's seriously starting to feel for him. 

It's like a sliver of sunlight found him frozen solid, buried under feet of ice and snow, and with its warmth, the frost is beginning to melt.

Tyler is the sun, Josh is the snow. Tyler is warm and good and better than he deserves, Josh is cold and still and silent, dangerous in great amounts. One changes the other, for good or for bad.

It's stupid. It's stupid, and Josh can't hope to explain it to him. He lets out a slow breath he's only just realized he was holding, but it doesn't bring him any relief.

"Yeah," he says at last. "Can't sleep."

If Tyler can read the internal struggle behind Josh's eyes, he doesn't bring it up. "Cold?" he asks, shifting to draw the blanket up a little. 

"Can't get comfortable," Josh says quietly. "I'll be alright. Go back to sleep."

But Tyler won't take that for an answer. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around him, snuggling up against his chest with his head nestled between the crook of his neck and his pillow.

Josh might think Tyler's reaction was one of a person half asleep, blindly seeking comfort. The way he touched his shoulder first, gentle, letting him know he was there, knowing Josh can get anxious about that sort of thing; it's a conscious act. Tyler is tired, but awake.

Josh is tired, but awake. His head is a swirl of yes and no, yes and no, and it exhausts him. In Tyler's arms, though, some tense thing in the back of his mind snaps back into place, settling, and before long the rest of his thoughts settle down, too.

He knows better than to feel the way he does about Tyler, and he knows better than to let Tyler hold him like this when he feels this way. Yet, Josh does, and he does.

When he finally sleeps, it's dreamless.

The TV is on in the living room.

Josh can hear it as he struggles to wake up. The only warmth in bed with him is Jim, asleep in Tyler's usual spot; Tyler himself, as well as the other dogs, aren't present. 

After a few minutes, Josh sits up. He doesn't listen too closely to the TV as he slips out of bed, but he can pick up the standard neutral voices of newscasters, discussing something they seem to think is important. In the back of his mind, the beast stirs; anxious, or perhaps apprehensive.

This is the first time in a while that Josh has woken up without Tyler next to him. A glance at the clock on the nightstand tells Josh he's woken up at his usual time, so it's not on him. Something must have roused Tyler early.

Jim follows as Josh quietly slips out of the room and down the hall, his senses slowly coming to life as he moves closer. He's not sure what he expects to see once he enters the living room, but he does see Tyler, sitting on the couch with one of the dogs on his lap.

He's watching the news, but he looks up when Josh enters the room. A smile, sleepy perhaps, graces his face, and he gestures to Josh with one hand to come closer. "Morning."

Josh sits next to him, gratefully accepting Tyler's offer to share his blanket; it's cold today. "Morning," he replies, still a bit on edge. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah." Tyler's holding the remote. The TV is on a commercial now, so he changes the channel to another news station. "Work called. Not coming in today."

Josh doesn't need to ask why. The TV shows him several newscasters, meteorologists, mostly, standing in front of maps of the state and gesturing to different areas laced with blue and white. Storm's just about setting in to the West, one of them says. We can expect a good three feet today, with no chance of stopping until tomorrow.

"We might lose power," Tyler says, though he doesn't seem upset by this. Concerned, maybe. "But we should be alright. I can light the woodstove if we need it."

Josh continues to watch the TV, though he's mostly just following the shapes with his eyes, not really absorbing what they're saying and doing. "Have you had blizzards here before?"

"Oh, yeah. Just about every winter." Tyler leans back on the couch a bit, stretching out his legs and propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Three feet isn't too bad. Once it gets six or more, that's when you're really stuck."

Josh can remember snow in Columbus; not this much snow, but snow. He lived in the city, then, with snow plows and close neighbors and civilization just a step from his front door. Tyler's home is, as far as he can tell, isolated. Rural. Beyond the grip of paved streets and sidewalks.

"I don't want to be stuck," he realizes aloud.

Tyler looks over at him, and Josh clears his throat, looks down at his lap. "I don't want to be stuck," he repeats, very quietly, little more than a breath.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, rubbing his arm. It's just distant enough that Josh lets him. "It'll be alright," Tyler says. Josh would really like to believe him.

It's not that things aren't alright right this moment, between them at the least. Josh is still wanted and on the run, still hiding from those who would drag him back to the facility, and he still has trouble getting his morph to shut down. 

With Tyler, though, everything is... okay. They're close. Tyler trusts Josh, and Josh really, really wants to trust him in turn. He's trying to. They share warmth, a safe place, words, space. It's not that.

The issue, Josh supposes, is that they're close in the first place.

This isn't what he'd intended or expected when Tyler found him. Not that he knew what to expect, then, but finding someone else who can morph and forming some sort of bond with them wasn't it. Caring about his rescuer at all wasn't part of the plan, either.

If Josh were smart, he would have left in the middle of the night the moment he was healed enough to do so. He'd put as much distance between himself and the facility as possible, running, always running. 

The act of running from something implies that one is also running to something. Josh doesn't know what he would be running to, if he weren't here. He has no one.

No one but Tyler. No one but Tyler, reclining on the couch and leaning into Josh's side, a hand on his arm; not petting, just resting. He's watching him with those dark eyes, like he's trying to work out whatever Josh is thinking, and there's no way Josh can let that happen, so he breaks the silence. "Have you eaten yet?"

Tyler just keeps looking at him. "No. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." Josh isn't, really, but he'll eat anyway. When he sits up, out of Tyler's touch, it feels like losing a limb; he aches for something that is no longer there, a phantom pain that haunts him closely. "Cereal?"

They do their regular morning routine: cereal together in the kitchen, then they each split up to do a few quick things by themselves. Josh takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, sits on the edge of the bed and tries to keep himself from overthinking. Tyler brushes his teeth, feeds the dogs, lets them out. The snow is already falling, but it's not too high yet, and he has them back in before things get bad.

Things do get bad, eventually. The sound of snow on the roof is quiet, only audible if you know what you're listening for, but the wind; this is what makes Josh anxious. It's loud, and it piles snow up against the back door as if it were building the wall of a fortress. This, combined with the storm clouds, makes the house a dark tint.

Josh has been on the couch since the wind started, trying to pay attention to the horror movie Tyler put on while he did their breakfast dishes. Josh doesn't quite catch the names of the protagonists, but there's a group of them, stranded on a deserted island. The monster is probably supposed to be made of magma; the low budget is visible in the thick tar probably meant to be oozing lava. It contrasts so strongly with the cold, stormy weather outside that Josh is almost able to forget about it.

At least until the power goes out.

It just flickers at first, making the picture stutter. Jim, laying on a dog bed under the TV's glow, lifts his head at the brief spit of static. Josh knows losing power isn't the worst thing in the world, that it'll be back on eventually, that it probably isn't dangerous to him, but something about it makes fear spark at the base of his skull.

After a moment, the TV goes back to normal, and the flickering stops. For a few solid seconds, Josh starts to think that they might be in the clear. 

Again, the flickering. This time, the screen goes black, and the light in the kitchen goes off. Instantly alert, Josh can hear the power leave the house, a sudden absence that his heightened senses can pick up on. 

Everything is dark.

Josh is still sat on the couch, legs tucked up with a blanket draped around him. Tyler isn't here; he knows he must be close by, that he should probably go look for him, but the beast is suddenly very awake, and it doesn't like what's going on.

It probably doesn't understand what's going on, either, and Josh has no way of explaining. It's much like it was when the people from the facility came to the door--fuck, he doesn't want to think about that right now. It's like the animal that is not Josh is backing itself into a corner, trying to hide from whatever is upsetting it, leaving Josh to deal with it alone.

Not that he wants its help, anyway.

His heart is pounding a mile a minute, and he should just get up and go find Tyler, just get up, but he can't do it. His body is frozen in place, muscles tensed, eyes wide. He can make out shapes in the dark, at least, even if details are difficult to make out. He can see Jim by the TV, laying very still, as if he, too, is afraid of what he does not understand.

A soft noise comes from behind him, a slight footstep, and Josh stops breathing.

A dark shape moves around to the front of the couch, fumbling with something; a flashlight clicks on. Tyler, Tyler. It's just Tyler.

The flashlight's beam settles on Josh, though Tyler fortunately doesn't shine it directly into his eyes. "Guess I'll finish the dishes later," he says, half smiling, like he's trying to lighten the mood.

Josh clears his throat, looks down at his lap. "Guess so."

"This one's for you." Tyler sets the flashlight next to Josh on the couch, letting him take it on his own. He watches silently as Tyler pulls out his phone. He turns the light on, then glances to Josh. "I should probably check the breaker."

For a heartbeat, Josh almost protests. He's overreacting. He can go five minutes without Tyler being there to calm him down over something as dumb as a storm. He doesn't let on how anxious he's feeling, just shrugging and clutching the flashlight Tyler gave him. "Okay."

"Should only be a minute." Tyler pauses. "If I'm gone for more than ten minutes, I got buried in a snowbank, or eaten by a snow monster, or something."

Josh smiles wearily. "You watch too many shitty horror movies."

"Says the guy whose eyes were just glued to It Came From The Volcano," Tyler points out, but he smiles back before he turns away. Josh watches as the light from his phone moves, shining down the hallway before disappearing.

He hears the front door open, the loud rush of wind pushing its way past Tyler, and then the door is firmly shut. And Tyler is gone.

And Josh is left alone.

It shouldn't matter. He's left alone all the time, whenever Tyler has to go to work, and whenever they're doing separate activities around the house. Even then, he's not entirely alone; he has Jim there with him, laying by the TV, and Ned is perched on the arm of the couch, ears sharp, face pointed towards the front door like he's waiting for Tyler to come back.

God, it all comes back to Tyler. Maybe Josh isn't just afraid to be alone during a snowstorm; maybe he's afraid for Tyler, who has gone out there into the cold to see if he can get the power back on. The wind is howling, crying as it whistles through the trees. It's too easy for Josh to imagine it as a great animal, clawing at the sides of the house and tearing at the roof with its teeth.

In reality, he knows this won't be the case, but snowstorms are dangerous, right? What if Tyler does get buried in a snowbank, like he joked about? What if he freezes? What if a tree blows over and crushes him, or he gets hit on the head by a falling branch?

Josh only realizes he's on his feet when the blanket slides off his lap onto the floor. It's only been a few minutes. Surely Tyler is okay. Surely he can manage whatever trouble he might get himself into.

But something in the back of Josh's mind--the animal that is not Josh, he finally realizes--is telling him to go out there. To find Tyler and bring him back inside where it's safe.

The idea of morphing right now makes him feel sick. He surges forward, nearly stumbling over the blanket as he goes, moving out of the living room and down the hall. He's not going to morph right now, he's not. If Tyler is hurt, he reasons with the beast, he'll be better able to help in this shape than another.

Josh, the human part of him, knows he's being unreasonable. But the animal part doesn't care.

The force of the wind hits him hard the moment he opens the front door, nearly knocking him backwards. He pushes back just as fiercely, and maybe it's his imagination, but some kind of strength seems to well up in his bones, just enough for him to push his way out into the snow and shut the door behind him. 

The snow is already almost up to his knees, soaking his pants, but he grits his teeth and shields his eyes from the incoming snowfall and bitter breeze with one hand. He doesn't know where the breaker is, but he can see the path Tyler must have took to get to it; there's a winding path through the snow, already being filled in.

Josh steps into it, following the trail. The wind is pushing at him furiously, pulling at his clothes like it's trying to drag him back into the house, but Josh refuses to turn back. Tears form in his eyes from the bitter chill, and he has to hold one arm up to try to block it so he can see where he's going. The other arm, Josh keeps wrapped tightly around himself; for comfort or warmth, he isn't certain.

All he has to do is find Tyler and bring him inside. That's it.

He moves around the back of the house, which is unfortunately towards the wind. He can hold onto the porch railing, at least, to keep himself from completely falling over. He's never been outside in winds this strong before, and he has to lean into it just to keep upright.

This is ridiculous. Why would the beast drive him to do this? Tyler can handle himself; he's used to weather conditions like this, and he's just going to check on the breaker. That's it. Anxiety is not something Josh is unfamiliar with, but anxiety from the beast, over something not involving the facility, is strange. 

He's not running from, Josh realizes: he's running to. He's running to Tyler. A rush of something washes over him at the thought, and he staggers, knee-deep in snow. The beast is fierce--furious--at the weather, for daring to threaten Tyler with harm. It doesn't try to escape, but it pushes at Josh even more than the wind does, urging him on, urging him to find Tyler and protect him in whatever way he can.

It's like a dog, furious the sound of the doorbell, thinking it a personal attack, and something about the comparison is so funny that Josh actually starts to laugh. He stops for a second, leaning into the railing, and he laughs, the sound whisked up by the blizzard almost as quickly as it escapes him.

Tears have made his vision blurry again. Josh rubs at his eyes with one hand, using the other to support himself, and in the mess of white, white snow, he catches something dark.

He starts, but doesn't scream when the hands grab him, clutching at his arms, pulling them away from his face. His vision still isn't quite right, but he recognizes Tyler's voice, raised to a shout to be heard over the howling wind.

"What are you doing out here?!" Tyler is shouting. Josh is glad he's not buried in a snowbank.

His lips stick together, so he swipes his tongue over them before shouting his answer. "Looking for you!"

It occurs to him, then, as he and Tyler struggle back to the house, that Josh didn't actually find Tyler; Tyler found him. The beast is seemingly absent when he reaches out to it, perhaps embarrassed that it ended up rescued over being the rescuer. It's not even that funny, but Josh laughs again, silently, Tyler half leading, half dragging him towards the front door.

Chapter Text

They must let in a mountain of snow just opening the front door long enough to get in. Jim is at the other end of the hall, ears low, tail wagging nervously, but he doesn't get closer; the cold is a hell of a deterrent.

Cold, Josh notes. It's cold. He's cold.

He and Tyler both have to lean into the front door to get it shut, but once it is, they're safe. Tyler is safe. Relieved, Josh slumps against the door a little, still upright, but letting it bear the brunt of his weight.

He's cold, but Tyler's hands are warm, shaking him by the shoulders. Josh blinks at him groggily. "Huh?"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Tyler demands. It's not the gratitude or affection that the beast seems to have been expecting from him. "Going out in a snowstorm with no coat on! You could have frozen to death!"

Josh is pretty sure this is an exaggeration--he's wearing a t-shirt, plus a sweatshirt, plus sweatpants and socks and a pair of slippers. Not exactly snow clothes, but not naked, either. Though, Tyler does have a point. He'd been so caught up in his instinct, he hadn't dressed for the weather. He hadn't even realized he was cold until Tyler was back in the house.

"Didn't," Josh says. The longer he stands here, the colder he feels. His hands are shaking; his hands are numb. "Freeze to death."

Tyler lets out a huff of frustration. He has to help Josh away from the door and down the hall to the guest room, because he's a little unsteady on his feet, which he also can't feel so well. His pants are still soaking wet from the knees down, and Josh knows what's coming when Tyler sits him down on the edge of the bed, but it doesn't make it easier.

Maybe it's the cold creeping its way up his spine, into his skull; or maybe it's the bond between them as morphs, the bond that Josh doesn't quite understand no matter what form he takes. But he doesn't tell Tyler to stop.

He's heard the story Josh told him, even if he didn't go into details. He's probably seen enough from providing medical care after he first got here. Not that it makes it any easier.

Josh lets him shuck his pants off, help him into warm, dry ones. This is almost familiar--he distantly remembers Tyler treating the wound on his thigh, though it really can't have been that long ago. There's the scar from it, still off in color compared to the rest of his skin. It's not pretty, but better than some of the others.

Tyler must have seen the other scars on his legs, ones from similar incidents at the facility. They're irregular, old and new, some nearly faded while others are clearly visible. The ones on his chest and back aren't any better, and Josh knows Tyler sees them--he has to--when he helps him out of his shirt and sweatshirt so he can change into something dry.

There's several on his arms: burns, mostly, as that was the first method they used to try to force him to morph. Over time, he started to build a resistance to it, so they moved on to other things, but those are the worst in Josh's mind. The skin there is pink, almost shiny, no matter that it's healed. It's blatantly visible.

There are others, of course, on his chest and back, mostly lacerations from wounds not unlike the one Tyler stitched up when he first came here. They had healed up, but messily, leaving jagged seams behind. One or two had struggled to heal on their own, so the researchers had finally given in and sedated Josh long enough to stitch them up. The rest, though, they left to repair themselves.

Tyler has to see them, but he doesn't seem to react. He dresses Josh, instead, into dry clothes, then bundles him up in blankets on the bed. He disappears for what must be a few minutes but feels like a split second, returning with tea and a heating pack. 

It's only once he's out of the cold that Josh feels the pain of it. Cold doesn't seep in like fog or perfume; it bores holes in his bones, digging in its heels, hurting more the more he tries to eradicate it. The warmth, too, hurts as his body tries to readjust.

"You could have gotten frostbite," Tyler finally says. He's sitting on the end of the bed, just within arm's reach, though Josh doesn't touch him. "Why didn't you put on a jacket? There was one on the rack by the door."

Josh isn't sure he has an answer. He shakes his head.

Tyler scowls at the carpet. He doesn't seem to be actually angry, just frustrated, but it makes it a little harder for Josh to speak, anyway. He holds the tea Tyler brought him in his lap, letting the warmth soak into his hands despite the pain it brings.

He lifts the tea, steam clouding his face; his lips and his nose are cold. Josh takes a sip, wincing at the taste--Tyler must have forgotten to add sugar--but swallows. "Had to," he says, quiet, not meeting Tyler's eyes even when he looks his way.

"Had to what?"

He squeezes his hands around the mug slightly. "Find you."

"You could have found me with a coat on," Tyler suggests dryly.

"Had to find you now," Josh admits. He's embarrassed that he let his morph control him so fiercely despite the fact that he was supposed to be the one in charge. This is his body, and the animal that is not Josh is supposed to take the back seat when it's not physically present.

Then again, it let him have a little more say in his actions recently, when he morphed with Tyler. Maybe it wants the same thing from him... but he can't trust it, can he?

Tyler seems to soften a bit. "Anxious?"

"Kind of." Josh swallows, and it almost catches in the back of his throat, but he's able to keep going. "Hard to explain."

"It's alright." Tyler's touch is light through the blankets, hand on Josh's shoulder; he can still feel it. It still means everything.

Tyler would probably let it go, if Josh didn't want to talk about it. He's not sure he does want to talk about it, but he should, shouldn't he? He knows that trust isn't something that will come to him naturally, nor will it be easy. He wants to, though.

"I felt like I had to," he admits after a moment, not looking at Tyler. "My morph made me feel like I had to."

"To go outside?"

"To bring you back inside." He takes a sip of the tea to disguise his nerves; the mug is empty now. "Safer in here."

"I was only out for a minute."

Josh isn't sure how to continue, so he says nothing. Something in the air between them has changed, and Tyler lets go of Josh's shoulder to lean into his side. He's already defrosting, but the warmth of Tyler is way better than any number of blankets or hot drinks could provide, and Josh lets himself relish it for a minute.

Tyler taps the rim of the mug, asking without asking, and Josh lets him take it. Their fingers brush, making Josh's heart jolt; Tyler leans forward to put the mug on the nightstand before he moves back into Josh's space, sharing his warmth.

"Worried," Josh finally says, unsure how else to describe it.

"You?" Tyler's head shifts on his shoulder, and Josh knows if he turns to look, he'll see Tyler's face dangerously close to his. "Or your morph?"

Josh chews on the inside of his lip. He doesn't look. "Both."

Tyler's quiet for a moment, and if Josh didn't know better--didn't know Tyler better, the way he's come to know him over his time here--he'd think he were upset, or angry. He can tell, though, by the way Tyler settles comfortably beside him, the way he absently pulls at a loose thread on his sleeve, that he's just thinking.

He's a thoughtful person, Josh decides, in more ways than one.

"I don't want to assume too soon," Tyler says at last. "Seeing as we've only morphed together a few times. But I think our other sides get along together. Or, they're beginning to."

Josh isn't so sure--can't help feeling that his morph will take Tyler by the throat--but he lets him go on.

"In a lot of animal species, the throat is a place of vulnerability," Tyler says, like he can read his mind. "Some pretty important veins are in there, and it's close to the head and the heart. Once it's open, it's hard to close."

This, Josh can believe. He knows Tyler isn't doing it on purpose, probably doesn't even know he worries about it so much, but he pictures it again. The tearing of flesh, blood on his tongue, much gnawing and gnashing of teeth. All it would take is one misstep, on his side or Tyler's, and then the animal that is not Josh would ruin everything, permanently.

"I did it that first time knowing your other half was angry," Tyler admits. "I guessed it would understand something a little less subtle, a little more... I don't want to use the word primal, but that's the only one that comes to mind."

Josh shrugs a little, staring down at his lap. "It's not the most inaccurate word you could use to describe it." He pauses. "I still think you're crazy."

"But it worked," Tyler insists. "It understood."

He wants to argue, but isn't sure how. It did understand, in some way. It recognized something in Tyler's actions, even if it didn't know where it knew them from; perhaps it was an instinct, one buried so deep within it that its source was lost to it. 

"It's capable of communication," Tyler says. "Mercy. Compassion. It's not a monster, Josh. You aren't, either."

Josh's throat hurts like he's going to start crying, but he really doesn't want to do that. He shakes his head instead, wanting to shake the whole problem off of him, as impossible as he knows that is. 

"Can I touch you?" Tyler quietly asks, and Josh finally looks at him. He's moved his head back a bit, hand hovering next to Josh's forehead. God, what Josh wouldn't give for the situation to be different; for Tyler to be asking this in a better context.

"Yeah," he manages, trying to banish the thought from his mind.

Tyler's hand moves to his forehead, like he's checking his temperature, but it quickly moves to his hair, carding through it, petting, brushing his damp curls out of his eyes. Josh can't hold back a slight sigh of relief, so he doesn't try.

"If you were a monster," Tyler murmurs, "you'd have killed me a long time ago. It's not like you haven't had the opportunity."

"Maybe it's just waiting for the right time," he replies, but it sounds weak even to him.

Tyler takes a moment to consider it, anyway, his hand stilling in Josh's hair abruptly. Something rises in the back of his throat again, and he huffs under his breath unhappily. Tyler must notice, though, because a wisp of a smile appears on his face, and he goes back to petting.

"I wasn't going to freeze out there, you know. I had a coat on, unlike someone we both know," he adds, punctuated with a friendly tug on one of Josh's curls. Josh tries to scowl at him, and fails miserably. "If you were a monster, you wouldn't have gone out there to try to save me."

"I never used those words exactly."

"It was implied."

In the back of his mind, the beast snorts with annoyance, but there's no aggression behind it. It's... odd. Alien, for it to allow something to frustrate it and not react with sharp teeth and a sharper snarl behind them. It should respond with a threat, at the very least. That's what Josh would expect it to do.

But it doesn't.

"You could have been hit by a falling branch," he says finally, "instead of freezing to death. Or, I don't know." Tyler's grinning at him, and the more Josh talks the more he realizes how silly it was to be so worried about him being out of his sight for ten fucking minutes. "Impaled by an icicle, or something."

And Tyler laughs--light, but he laughs. His head settles on Josh's shoulder again, nearly burrowing his face in the crook of his neck. Josh's whole body shudders; it has nothing to do with the lingering cold. God. "Sweet of you to worry," Tyler mumbles. "But the wind's knocked over most everything it's going to knock over by now. The icicles and tree branches are already on the ground."

Josh knows it's illogical, but for just a second, he feels like Tyler's closeness, the lilt of his voice, have set a small flame alight in his chest, warming him from the inside out. "Good to know, I guess."

"I'll stay in from now on." Josh swears he can feel Tyler's breath on his ear. "Just in case you go getting any other crazy ideas."

Chapter Text

Not that either of them are going anywhere with a mild blizzard outside, anyway.

Tyler couldn't get the power back on--he says a tree probably downed a wire somewhere, and he doubts it'll be fixed until the wind and snow have calmed down. As promised, though, he lights the woodstove, and they stay in the living room for the rest of the day, where it's warmest.

Tyler hasn't lit the stove before, at least not in the time Josh has been here. It's brighter than he'd thought, casting a steady orange light through the room, only flickering now and then. The dogs are stretched out in front, enjoying the warmth themselves, while Josh and Tyler stay back on the couch, laying beneath warm blankets and talking.

Well, Tyler does most of the talking. Josh is happy to let him, though; he likes listening to his voice, the way he describes things, gesturing vaguely with his hands when he can't quite describe something, or tries to recall a memory. 

It's better, besides, if Josh doesn't try to drag up memories of his own. All he has are his year in the facility--not exactly something he wants to think about--and his life before that.

He tries not to think about that life too hard. He knows it's tattered now, shredded like fine silk under a pet's curious claws. His apartment, his job, his friends and family... they're one year and a million agonies away. It's possible that pieces are still left; but then, are they salvageable? Have his friends and family presumed him dead? Or, worse, have they forgotten about him?

No, it's better to listen to Tyler. He has good stories, funny ones, safe ones. He talks about his family, what it's like to grow up knowing you'll be able to morph, growing up in a family of morphs, recalling tales of playing in the woods with his brothers and sister. 

Tyler talks about his job, too; he works at a lumberyard thirty minutes down the road. He doesn't look at all the type, not on the outside, but Josh knows there's a hidden strength behind his lean frame. 

"We mostly store it until other companies buy it off us," Tyler explains. "Though I do toss some lumber around now and then." He punctuates this with a crooked grin that Josh would describe as flirtatious if he were allowed. 

But he isn't. He lightly shoves Tyler's shoulder instead, holding back a smile of his own. "Sure you do."

Tyler goes on to talk about the guard dog for the lumberyard, a giant bloodhound named Hank that gives Tyler sad eyes if he shows up at work without a treat for him. Apparently, he spends more time in the office dozing in front of the portable heater than actually doing his job, but Tyler does recall a time when he chased off a bunch of raccoons that had been poking around in the dumpsters.

All things considered, it's a pretty good day.

Josh's anxieties only start to well up again once the sun's gone down; not unbearably, just enough for it to keep him from getting too comfortable. Tyler scrounges up some non-perishables from the pantry, and they end up sharing a bag of chips for dessert.

It was dark already, what with the snow piling up, but now it's pitch black outside. Josh tries to keep his eyes on what's in front of him--the woodstove, the dogs, Tyler--but he worries that he's staring too long at the latter, and his eyes keep wandering to the back door.

He only realizes Tyler's caught on when the story he was telling trails off into silence. Josh glances to him, settled comfortably onto the couch just out of reach in every way. Tyler's brows are slightly furrowed, eyes dark, with only the crackling flame of the woodstove reflected within. His slight slope of a nose casts a thin shadow onto his cheek, and his mouth-

"Everything okay?"

Tyler's voice breaks the spell; Josh looks down at his lap. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?" There's no hurt to his tone, but he must know Josh isn't being entirely honest with him. 

In his head, Josh can make sense of it. To the beast, his anxieties are a weakness, and to reveal that weakness to Tyler makes him vulnerable.

It's stupid. It makes him think of what Tyler said, earlier. If you were a monster, you'd have killed me a long time ago. It's not like you haven't had the opportunity.

Tyler is not the monster here, but even if he were, he would have had plenty of likewise opportunities to bring harm to him. Instead, he's taken care of him through his troubles, physical and mental; he's kept him as safe from the facility as he can be. No, it's not Tyler he's afraid of.

It's trust. Again and again, Josh finds himself trying to cross a winding river, and each time, he jumps back the moment he gets his feet wet. There's no bridge to speak of, no other way around; all he can do is go through.

"I'm a little anxious," Josh admits, and it makes his chest tight to say, but he still says it.

Tyler sits up a bit on the couch, his hand reaching for Josh's knee, pausing, asking. When Josh nods, he rests it there. "Anything in particular causing it?" he asks.

Josh chews on the inside of his lip, glancing to the back door. "Just the storm, I guess. It's dumb."

"It's not dumb." Tyler rubs little circles into his knee; if Josh weren't so tense, he'd probably melt into the cushions.

"It's just really dark," he says instead. "No moon or stars or lights on. Fear of the unknown, or whatever."

Tyler nods slightly, watching the fire in the woodstove. Josh doesn't say anything else, having no other words to describe why he's on edge. He's not entirely sure why, himself.

"We could go to bed," Tyler suggests, and he doesn't mean it like that, but the we makes Josh's heart flip. "Might help you get comfortable."

"What about the woodstove?"

"I can put it out. We've had it going all day, and the house should stay warm enough until morning." Tyler shrugs a little. "We'll be under the covers, besides."

Together, Josh's mind suggests helpfully. He ignores it.

Tyler busies himself with putting out the fire while Josh goes to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and telling himself he's making a mistake. Inside his head, he's struggling to come to terms with how he feels about Tyler, how Tyler probably doesn't feel the same way, how he can't know. On the outside, Josh brushes his teeth, then helps Tyler move the dog beds back into the bedroom. There's definitely a lot of them.

The dogs settle pretty quickly, cuddling up together in a pile of fur and tails next to the bed. Even Ned and Jim, the cuddliest, are on the floor, tangled up with the others. Josh can't blame them; it almost looks cozy. 

He's biting his tongue as he slips into bed, as Tyler silently shuts the door to keep the warmth in, as he climbs in next to Josh, their arms brushing. The click of the flashlight going off is the only sound other than Josh's erratically beating heart, and once that's over, he can't hear anything else.

His breath catches at the brush of Tyler's fingers on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Tyler whispers. "We don't have to cuddle if you don't want."

He has it backwards. The problem is not that Josh doesn't want to be near him; it's that he does.

Josh doesn't speak, lest the feelings he's struggling with come spilling out. He shifts closer, instead, into Tyler's space, wraps an arm around his waist to show him it's okay. 

It's impossible to know if Tyler understands. All the same, he wraps an arm around Josh in turn and tucks his chin over the top of his head when Josh rests it on his arm. The air is cold outside, even with the woodstove's lingering heat, but beneath the blankets, curved together, they are warm.

The tight feeling in Josh's chest finally begins to ease. 

He knows he wants to be near Tyler; it's the reverse that he's unsure about. Tyler was the one who initiated it just now, but that doesn't necessarily mean he enjoys it or even likes it. He might just be tolerating it to keep Josh quiet.

The idea puts a lump in Josh's throat. He swallows it down, quietly asking, "Does it bother you?"

He can feel Tyler's breath in his curls. "Does what bother me?"

Josh hesitates. "This," he decides.

He worries, for a moment, that Tyler really will say yes--that he actually hates being close to Josh in this way, that he's only doing it to be nice--but then he feels more than sees Tyler shake his head. "Why?"

"Don't want to bother you." It's easier to say if Josh shuts his eyes, so he does. "Be a nuisance."

"You're not." And Josh isn't sure he believes that, not really, but it's nice to hear anyway. The arm Tyler tossed around him has moved up so his hand can rub his back, and it feels so nice that Josh practically goes boneless. "Can I tell you something?"

Josh lets out a soft breath, not quite a sigh of contentment, but the feeling is definitely behind it. "Anything." He can't see Tyler's face, but he imagines that he's smiling.

"I've been on my own for a few years now," Tyler says. "Just me and the dogs, you know? I love them, and they're good company no matter what shape I'm in..."

There's a but there, taking shape in Tyler's head. Josh doesn't interrupt it.

"But they're not people. I talk with people at work, see my family on the holidays. Sometimes Zack comes over," he adds with a puff of breath tickling the top of Josh's head. "But that's not it, either. There's a gap."

"A gap," Josh echoes softly. He has to blink hard to keep himself from falling asleep, but he doesn't want to just drift off and ignore Tyler when he's being so sincere.

"A space where something should be. Like a missing tooth," Tyler tries. His hand twitches at Josh's back, like he's trying to hold back some gesture. Josh can't see his face, but imagines his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in concentration. It's a cute look. "I can get by without it, but the space is always there. I can feel it, always. I know it's there."

"Mhm." Josh blinks hard again, his body still trying to pull him into sleep. "I think I know the feeling."

"I get lonely sometimes," Tyler suddenly admits. "Or, I did. Not so much lately."

It takes a second. Josh is tired, and comfortable, and the words are easily caught by his ears, but he doesn't quite process them and what they mean for a few seconds.

Josh says, "Oh." Then, "Oh."

This alone is a confession, but Tyler keeps going. "I like having you around. I like watching TV with you and eating dinner with you. And I like this," he says, his hand moving up to pet Josh's curls. This time, Josh does sigh, leaning into the touch. "It's nice."

"Makes two of us," he manages, eyes slipping shut, and he relishes Tyler's laugh, quiet in the dark.

"Cool." He twists one of Josh's curls with his finger, lightly. Josh swears he can feel every one of his breaths, warm and rhythmic. "You're not a nuisance, okay?"

Josh surprises himself when the word easily slips from his mouth. "Okay."

"I'm glad you like it here," Tyler says, then pauses. His hand stills, briefly, in Josh's hair, before he resumes running his fingers through. "If that ever changes... if you ever decide to move on, I won't stop you. You should always do what you feel is best." Another pause; then, quieter, "but I will miss you."

Josh's heart aches at the sudden sad turn to his voice. "Not going anywhere," he says, nestling closer. The tip of his nose brushes Tyler's neck. "Unless you want me to."

Or if they find me, Josh does not say. He doesn't want to think about it. Perhaps, childishly, he believes that if he doesn't say it out loud, it won't be able to get him.

If it comes to something like that--if he's torn between staying here and moving on as the researchers and their lackeys close in on him--he will go. He doesn't want to; god, no. But staying would lure them in, and Tyler could get hurt. Josh won't let that happen.

"Goodnight, Josh," Tyler mumbles, drawing him from his thoughts. He sounds just as sleepy as Josh feels.

Everything is so uncertain. For tonight, at least, Josh can slip away from that, further from what he knows he will ultimately have to face, and closer to warmth, comfort, Tyler.

"Goodnight," he whispers, exhaling against Tyler's throat. 

They sleep.

Chapter Text

The snow and wind have dramatically decreased in ferocity by morning. It's relatively quiet, the only other sound being the soft snores and snuffs of the dogs. He's not unbearably cold, but the temperature is definitely lower than it should be in the house; Josh's face feels colder than the rest of him, being the only part not under the blankets.

He doesn't need to cuddle up to Tyler to survive. The temperature is still above freezing, and there's no desperate desire to clutch at his humanity for the moment. 

But Josh is chilly, and he and Tyler must have drawn apart in the night, because they're barely touching, and Josh is thinking about what Tyler said last night, about loneliness. Isolation. Needing someone to be there.

Maybe he's been talking about loneliness more than he initially recognized. It might be nice for it to find company with someone like itself. Tyler was talking about the beast, then, or he wasn't. Josh isn't sure anymore.

It's been so long since he's felt understood, or even listened to. But Tyler listens, when Josh feels up to talking about what happened to him, or when he's complaining about the stupid movie they're watching. He knows what it's like to feel isolated and alone, even in a group.

And, though Josh struggles to put it in better words, the beast is drawn to Tyler. It's something in the way he morphs like it's almost nothing, how comfortable and at ease he is in his own body, in a shape so like itself. It's in the way he plays chase with Josh in the woods, lets him win all their play-fights, touches his nose to its shoulder to get its attention.

It's in his humanity, too. The way Tyler has healed him, provided food and warmth and shelter, protected him. The animal that is not Josh has no greater fear, nor enemy, than the facility and those who work there. Tyler is the opposite of that place. Tyler may be better at this than him, but he is an animal, too.

Josh can't say exactly what changes for him in that moment. But when he burrows his head into Tyler's chest, when Tyler, still half-asleep, drapes an arm over him to draw him close... it could be enough. He thinks it could be enough.

They both doze for awhile, but of course, it has to end eventually. The power kicks back on some time around ten; Tyler gets up first, tucking the blanket back up over Josh sweetly before leaving to feed the dogs. Josh stays there for a few more moments, listening drowsily as Tyler moves around the house. Eventually, he hears Tyler go into the bathroom, the rattle of the water heater as it kicks on, and he knows he must be taking a shower.

For a second, he feels that tug, somewhere below his heart: instinct, telling him to seek Tyler out. But, no. No, he should leave him be. They may have a bond, but it's not like that. It shouldn't be.

There is a bond, though, and today Josh feels like he could accept it. He slips out of bed, slips on the slippers Tyler lent him, and tries to take the instinct within him and find a compromise.

Tyler, the beast seems to be telling him. Boundaries, Josh tells it in return. It's not easy to ignore.

Now that the house is warming back up, slowly but surely, Josh leaves the bedroom, moving down the hall and into the kitchen. The dogs are still eating, and it's a comical sight: all seven of them, lined up, eating dog food from differently sized bowls. Josh almost laughs.

He spots the dishes by the sink, first, and remembers the meal he and Tyler shared last night: a can of peaches, a can of pears, and the chips. Not exactly the most satisfying meal he's ever had, but at least now that the power's back on, they can eat something better.

Something clicks in his head, connecting the passage between Josh and the animal that is not Josh, and an idea comes to him.

He's not entirely sure where all Tyler's kitchenware is, so he does have to rifle around a little to find a pan and spatula. Once he does, he dares to open the fridge; Tyler put some ice in yesterday before the power went out, so most of the food should be okay to eat. Josh collects two eggs and gives the milk a sniff before adding it to the bowl, cracking the eggs in after it.

He scrambles them, mostly because he's never been good at cooking eggs sunny-side up without breaking the yolk. Butter, pepper, and salt all go in, carefully stirred and watched over. Josh sets out two plates and forks, even switches on the coffeemaker; Tyler usually gets it ready the night before, so he doesn't have to fumble with it in the morning.

It's been a long time since he's cooked, but fortunately it must be one of those things you don't forget; like riding a bicycle, he thinks absently. Once the eggs are ready, Josh clicks the stove off, starting to divide the food between the two plates.

"You made breakfast."

Josh jumps immediately, so sudden that he nearly loses his grip on the handle of the frying pan. Tyler is standing by the fridge, watching with dark eyes and shower-damp hair. His expression is impossible to read.

"Jesus," Josh breathes. He turns his back to Tyler again, almost hesitant, but he reminds himself, over and over: Tyler is trustworthy. Tyler hasn't hurt him yet: why would he now? It's such a simple movement, yet it makes his heart pound; though, he supposes, it already was, from being startled.

Once the eggs have been divided up, he deposits the frying pan in the sink and turns around. Tyler's by the counter now, closer, but not too close, and he's smiling. No, grinning.

"You made breakfast," he says again.

"Yeah," Josh says, but it comes out more like a squeak. He clears his throat, chiding himself, calming down. "I did, yeah. Are you hungry?"

Tyler steps towards him, and it must only take a second, but it feels like longer to Josh. Time is molasses, Tyler's hair is damp, his face is lit up with a grin that makes his knees go weak. It's not the grin of an animal, predatory and aggressive, like the animal that is not Josh seems to have been suspecting. It's warm. Delighted.

Why is Tyler so close? How long have they been standing here? Josh swears he can hear his pulse; the temptation of Tyler's body gets more difficult to resist the closer he gets. He leans back a little, but there's nowhere for him to go, and the small of his back pushes against the counter. Which, somehow, makes the whole thing worse (better).

Tyler's arm snakes around Josh's back, and for a few terrible (wonderful) seconds, Josh thinks they might be about to kiss.

Then Tyler's arm moves back, and he's holding one of the plates full of eggs. As slowly as he moved in, Tyler swiftly moves back, taking the plate of eggs and moving to the fridge to grab something--milk for the coffee, maybe, Josh doesn't know or care.

He feels like he's still here; except, quite obviously, he isn't. Also quite obviously, Josh is slipping too far into how he feels for Tyler. He read the situation wrong--it becomes more and more evident to him the further away Tyler gets.

He has enough sense to take his own plate of eggs into his hands, but Josh's brain doesn't fully start to kick back into gear until Tyler sits down at the kitchen table, forking the eggs into his mouth. He talks with his mouth full; it should probably be gross. "Thanks, man. This is really good."

"Sure," Josh says, very unhelpfully. He turns away to fumble with the coffeemaker, pouring himself a cup as he gathers his bearings. "No problem."

He can't look at Tyler when he sits down in the chair across from him, trying instead to concentrate on his own food. It's... embarrassing. He hopes Tyler can't tell.

Can't tell... what, exactly? What did he think was going to happen? Tyler wouldn't want to kiss him. Even if he did, Josh couldn't let him. No matter what Tyler might say, he knows he's fucked his life up enough. He can be Tyler's friend, sure, if he's careful, but anything more than that is out of the question.

He doesn't know when the feelings he has for Tyler became so certain to him. All he knows is that he felt hotter than the woodstove with Tyler standing a scarce few inches away from him, Tyler putting an arm around him, Tyler leaning in--

"You okay?"

Josh doesn't jump this time, thank god. Half his food is gone, and when he looks up, he sees that Tyler's finished all of his. "Yeah." He has to change the subject, can't let Tyler ask him what's on his mind. "The eggs are okay? I know they were in the fridge during the outage."

"They're great." Tyler sips his coffee. "Thanks again, really."

"It's not much." Josh has to look down at his plate, self conscious. "I just wanted to thank you, somehow. For letting me stay here."

"You don't have to thank me--"

"But I am," he interjects, which just makes Tyler smile. "You helped me when I was hurt and lost. You took care of me. So, thank you."

Tyler leans his elbows on the table, chin in his hands, and Josh isn't in love with him, but he thinks he could be, in some other universe, where he was never made a monster. "You don't have to thank me, Josh."

"But I am," he repeats, faking a scowl, which only makes Tyler smile broader. "Thank you. Say you're welcome, Josh."

This, Tyler accepts. "You're welcome, Josh."

The rest of the morning is... awkward, at least on Josh's half. Tyler seems to be comfortable enough, only glancing sideways at Josh now and then to indicate that yes, he's aware that something is up, but Josh can't talk about it yet, so he just shrugs and changes the subject every time.

It's not a matter of trust this time so much as shame and embarrassment. Admitting aloud that he thought Tyler was going to kiss him feels like a towering concrete wall, topped with barbed wire for good measure. It's impossible for someone like Josh to climb.

At least, like this.

He's so lost in thought that he jumps when Tyler touches his arm. Jesus, he's going to have a heart attack one of these days. 

They're on the couch, Tyler scrolling through his phone and Josh half watching reruns of Seinfeld, grateful that the power is back on. It's much warmer in the house than before, even though the snow is still piled high outside. He asked Tyler about it, earlier, and he said it would probably take a while to melt down, but the roads should be paved soon now that the bulk of the snowstorm is over.

Tyler's phone is on the coffee table, now, and Tyler is sitting forward a little from where he'd been leaning against the arm of the couch, closer. He lets go of Josh when he jumps, an apology forming on his lips. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay." Josh waits a second, unsure what else to say. If Tyler wants to cuddle, or hug, or seek a similar form of physical comfort, he doesn't try, and he doesn't ask for it. He's looking at Josh's arm, not meeting his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. Finally, he asks, "What's up?"

Again, Tyler seems uncertain; he hesitates, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "I don't want to pry," he says, gentle. "If you're uncomfortable with answering, say so, and we can drop it and talk about something else, no problem."

Josh's stomach twists with nerves. "Okay."

Tyler still doesn't look at him. "I kind of feel like a dick for asking, honestly."

An inkling comes to him, then, what Tyler might be about to say, but Josh doesn't stop him. "It's fine. Go ahead."

If Tyler is going to ask what Josh thinks he might, what can he say? Can he say anything at all? It feels like another wall, another fence, another force keeping him locked up, isolated. It aches in the back of his throat.

"Can I see your scar?"

And this... well. It's kind of close to what Josh had expected, but still off the mark. Something like a laugh, short and sharp, escapes him, and Tyler looks up quizzically. Josh laughs, and it's not funny, but he laughs, and he says, "Which one?"

Tyler looks stung. "Which... the one from the injury you had when you first came here. I know it's gotta be healed by now, but, I don't know. I was thinking about it." His eyes are back on his lap, and something in Josh's chest rattles, like coins in a jar. Tyler was thinking about him.

He'd been steeling himself to answer a different question, and now, no longer being threatened by it, some of the tension in Josh's body eases, replaced by something else. It's not quite a light feeling--Josh hasn't felt fully free of his troubles for a long time--but it flutters, drifts like leaves in an autumn wind.

He doesn't think about his answer. "Sure." Tyler looks up, seemingly relieved that Josh isn't upset, and Josh clears his throat. "Sure, you can see it."

The logistics of it don't really hit him until he remembers exactly where the scar Tyler's talking about lies. To say that Josh goes beet red is an understatement; it's pretty high up on his leg, and he's going to have to shuck his pants down.

It's too cold to take them off all the way, and besides, getting half naked in front of Tyler might actually kill him, so Josh doesn't do this. He sits up properly, pushing off the blanket he was previously draped under and taking a quick breath before pulling his sweatpants down to his knees.

He's wearing underwear, obviously, but this fact doesn't make him any less flustered.

Tyler shifts closer, not touching. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure it's not torn up or whatever, from the morphing." Is he flustered, too, or is it just Josh's imagination? "Can I-?" His hand is hovering over his leg.

Josh manages to squeak out a "Yes." He has to shut his eyes--not because he fears Tyler's touch, by any means, but because he craves it. He's not sure why he expects Tyler's hands to be cold, but they're warm, careful, tracing the jagged line on Josh's thigh with his fingers.

He does it once, twice, three times, like he's trying to memorize the way it feels under his fingertips, and Jesus, it is taking nearly every bit of Josh's focus not to pop a boner right now. He feels embarrassed enough already about this morning.

"Does it hurt?" Tyler asks, and Josh's heart trips at the genuine concern in his voice.

Josh shakes his head, eyes still shut; if he looks down and sees Tyler's hands on him, he's going to lose it. "It feels different than the rest of the skin," he says in a surprisingly calm voice. "But it's fine."

"Different how?" Tyler prompts. He lightly presses over the worst bit of the scar, where Josh remembers most of the stitches were. He gulps.

"I can feel that it's there, but it feels different when I touch it compared to the way it feels when I touch anywhere else. Like it's not quite me." Josh chews on the inside of his lip. "Is that okay?"

Tyler seems to consider this for a moment. "It should be, yeah. It's only been a few months. Over time it'll start to disappear, though I don't think it'll completely vanish."

He's still touching it. Josh's mind is blank, in terms of a response. "Cool."

He hears Tyler's snort of laughter, nearly laughs himself, but Tyler's thumb brushes the very edge of the scar, and the sound dies in his throat. He doesn't have the words for how it feels.

"Does it ever bother you when it gets cold?"

Josh tries to think clearly. "Um, no. I don't think so. Is that a thing?"

"Scar tissue can cause mild discomfort when the weather turns."

"You sound like a medical textbook."

Tyler laughs again and, mercifully or not, takes his hand away. Josh feels like he's been holding his breath the whole time, and it's stupid. It's stupid.

It's entirely medical. The last time he touched him here certainly was; he'd checked up on it after the stitches were removed to make sure it was healing properly. The pain of it had lowered significantly, and Josh felt nothing other than anxiety at the time. Nothing like the sparks he just felt, stinging his skin in a crackle of warmth, like pop rocks.

Josh's eyes are still closed, because how can he look at Tyler without betraying himself? He can't. Whatever he might feel, he can't act on it like that. He's told himself this a thousand times, repeated it in the dark when Tyler lays beside him, asleep, but it doesn't make it any easier to accept.

Where was the beast during all of this? Shouldn't it be at the back of his throat, crouched, ready to spring to his defense? He knows it's aggressive towards vulnerabilities, towards likewise contact, but it didn't even stir. Josh could try to seek it out in the back of his head, but then again, he doesn't like to do so if he doesn't have to. It's just... confusing.

He doesn't physically jump when Tyler's touch returns, but his eyes fly open at the brush of fingers on his skin again, lower this time, on his other thigh. Tyler draws his hand back quickly. "Sorry. I just..."

Josh chews on the inside of his lip again, for a very different reason this time. "It's fine. Just- not used to it, I guess?"

It's not fine. Or, rather, the circumstances surrounding it are not. Tyler's touch is alien to him in this form, gentle in places marred by violence, but it's not him that's causing his anxiety to spike. It's the memory of what was done to him.

Tyler's eyes are filled with guilt, all the same. Josh doesn't know how to tell him it's not his fault, that he's okay, so he doesn't try. He grabs his hand, instead, fingers circling his wrist, and guides him back where he was before.

This scar is perhaps less intimate than his most recent one, being closer to his knee than anything else. It's curved, jagged, tilted to the side just so that it dips between his knees; difficult to catch at a glance.

Tyler must have seen. Tyler must have seen most of them by now, frankly, but not up close like this.

Touch is different. Josh lets go of Tyler when he brushes the scar above his knee, letting him see with his fingertips as well as his eyes. With the gift of touch, it's clear that this injury was messier than the one Tyler treated, and it didn't heal as well. It's crooked, and the mark is discolored, whiter than the skin around it.

Josh remembers reading, once, that the human fingertip is so sensitive that if a hand were the size of the earth, it could touch its surface and be able to feel the difference between a house and a car beneath its fingertips. He doesn't know if that's true, but if it is, he figures this might not be so different.

Some scars tell stories. The story that Josh's scars tell is not a pretty one.

This time, Josh does watch as Tyler touches him, though it feels intimate in a different way. It feels like trust. It feels like a dog rolling over and showing its belly. It feels vulnerable.

And still, the beast does not snarl or snap. It's there--it's always there, Josh knows--but it says nothing. It just watches.

If he thought Tyler's touch was gentle before, it's even more so now. His brow is furrowed, perhaps with concern, perhaps concentration, like he's trying to understand what happened here without having to ask. Ultimately, though, he must not be able to come up with a clear answer, because he says, "Knife?"

Josh's chest feels tight, but he exhales all the same. "Scalpel."

Something in Tyler's eyes changes, though it's hard to say what. "Scalpel," he repeats, soft, like he can't quite believe it. He doesn't need to ask who did this to him.

"There's more." Josh shifts, inhales this time.

"You don't have to show me."

Josh knows this. It's still nice to hear. "I just... the one you took care of, it wasn't the only one. There were others."

Tyler brushes his thumb over the scar, concern still etched into his face. He doesn't ask how Josh acquired this scar, or the others. He doesn't have to tell him. He tells him.

"They- I wasn't very cooperative." Josh doesn't dare close his eyes now, fearing that he will see himself somewhere worse. Seeing Tyler's house, Tyler's couch, Tyler, is a reminder that he's not in the facility. "That's what they told me. Didn't believe me when I said I couldn't control it, I guess. Or they didn't care."

Tyler leans into Josh's side, not too heavy, just enough to keep him grounded. Josh continues.

"They figured out pretty quick that pain was able to draw it out. Anything it viewed as a serious threat would push it to the front to defend itself." He pauses. "That's how I got the one you stitched up, too. It was just agitated from... I had to run."

Josh doesn't feel like crying--not just in the sense that he doesn't want to, he doesn't physically need to--but a tear rolls down his cheek, anyway. Tyler silently wipes it away with his sleeve. There's not much he can say.

There's too much for Josh to say. He holds his tongue.

Chapter Text

Neither of them speaks for a long while, Tyler leaning into Josh and Josh accepting the comfort he offers, cherishing it, wrapping it around himself like a blanket. He pulls his pants back up at some point, the real blanket pulled up to his chin, and shares the space with Tyler.

Tyler keeps him warm, grounded, secure. Tyler's hand is on his thigh, over the wound he sewed up in the first place. It's not intimate in that sense so much as protective, like Tyler is trying to remind him he can heal in every definition of the term, that he's in a safer place now, that he's not alone. Whichever it is, Josh relishes it.

They're both still quiet when dinnertime arrives, though it's more comfortable now. Josh helps make dinner, chopping and mixing a salad while Tyler boils pasta on the stove. Ned keeps tiptoeing around the kitchen, watching Tyler move from one counter to the next with concentration in his puppy eyes. 

"I think he's hoping you'll drop something," Josh says, once the salad is ready. The pasta still has a few minutes left, so he's leaning against the counter, half watching Tyler stir the spaghetti sauce.

He doesn't know if Tyler understands what this is--an offering, a suggestion, Josh's way of expressing that he's okay and he wants to lighten the mood. But Tyler turns, smiles, and dips a fork into the pasta, pulling out a long, limp noodle.

Ned watches intensely as Tyler waits a moment for the noodle to cool to a safe temperature. The fork dips, the noodle slips, and Ned leaps to catch it. It's gone in half a second.

"Whoops," Tyler says. He's trying to feign innocence, maybe, but he's not doing a very good job. He has that wicked grin on that spells mischief. "How clumsy of me."

Josh deftly plucks a crouton from the bag left out by the salad, and tosses it. Ned isn't expecting it, and it hits the floor, though it's not there for very long. There's something comical about the crunch it makes when the little dog chews.

"Accidents happen," Josh says, slowly matching Tyler's grin. And Tyler laughs.

It's far from the first time Josh has heard him do so, but this time, it's very much because of him, and that makes him smile back. There's something satisfying about that.

There's something satisfying about dinner, too, eaten at the kitchen table with the dogs underneath, Jim at Josh's feet and Ned at Tyler's, where he can easily catch the food Tyler drops (or "drops"). The salad is good, the spaghetti is good, and everything feels a little better. The house is warm, Josh is comfortable, and he has good company. There's not much more he could want.

That's not a lie, exactly, but it's not the whole truth, either.

"I'll probably be able to go back to work tomorrow," Tyler tells him. "Snow plows should have most of the stuff off the roads by then."

Josh twirls a bite of spaghetti around his fork. An idea is starting to come to him, though he's not sure if it's his. "What about the yard?"

"It'll go down on its own, it'll just take longer. Might start to soften soon if it doesn't snow again." Tyler looks up. "Why?"

Josh pushes his fork around to collect more sauce. "I was just thinking about... y'know, morphing."

Tyler blinks, visibly surprised. "You want to?"

Josh never wants to morph. Even as it's become easier to manage, as he's gained a little more control when he does morph with Tyler, he doesn't want it. It's necessary. He needs to do it to keep the equilibrium.

He's not sure what's changed his mind tonight. He's not even entirely sure it's a want. But it's there.

Josh swallows, and says, "I think I do."

So they do.

Tyler warns him in advance that the cold will still be bitter in their other forms. While they both have tough, thick hides, they're not invincible; it might take a strong force to pierce the skin physically, but the temperature is able to sink in over time.

The garage is freezing, but it's the only place they can morph, because there's no snow and they have to leave the dogs in the house while they're out, so they won't get too cold. Almost the second Tyler opens the garage door, Josh starts physically shaking. The air is still, and there's no snow falling, making for a very silent, white world beyond the edge of the concrete.

"We can go back in if you change your mind." Tyler's standing by his side, both of them looking out into the almost pristine landscape. 

It's too late, though. The need to morph is itching at him, tugging insistently. Josh is restless. "Okay."

Tyler goes first, as always. Even with his eyes shut--giving Tyler what privacy he can--Josh knows he's starting to morph by the way his breaths grow labored, the scent of wet dog filling the air. The latter is what triggers it for him; Josh hurries out of his own clothes, sinking to the cold concrete as his muscles twist painfully.

It hurts. It's cold. It's scary. It feels like it takes hours.

A soft, wet nose nudges at his cheek, and he knows it's Tyler. Josh's eyes are shut tightly; he's not quite through it, and even the faint din of the overhead lights magnifies his pain. He whimpers.

Once it's over, he can feel the cold concrete beneath him again; he tries to concentrate on that instead of the lingering flashes of pain racing up and down his body. His massive head rests on the floor as he breathes in and out.

Again, the nose nudges him, followed by a low whine. Tyler.

Josh opens his eyes, struggles to his paws. The agony is starting to slowly ebb, replaced by the frigid temperature, but it's miles better this way, so he accepts it without complaint. Tyler is there, standing by his side, his head bowed, but he lifts it when Josh stands, pressing his head to his shoulder. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a rumbling thing that makes Josh think of a cat's soothing purr.

The animal that is not Josh, while not completely in control, is very much present, and it is instantly comforted by the sound. He tries to recreate it, but it comes out more like a growl, and he flattens his ears quickly.

Tyler's tail wags a little, encouraging, and he tucks his head under Josh's neck, nosing at a spot low on his throat. Josh's pelt tingles, ruffling down his spine; he tries again, deeper, and the sound comes out better this time.

Communicating in this shape is... odd, to say the least. He doesn't understand his own body language, or Tyler's, not very well; he often has to ask Tyler later what he was trying to say. They don't talk like people do, and they don't always make audible sounds. There's a lot expressed in the way Tyler tilts his head, twitches his ears, and moves his tail, Josh just doesn't always get it.

Now, he's not entirely sure what this sound is, but he falls back on his instinct--the beast's instinct--and it tells him it's good. It comforts him. The pain in his body becomes easier to bear.

The first step into the snow feels weird. It's definitely cold, making the pads of his paws sting, his fur fluff out, but it's not nearly as bad as it would be if he were human. Josh takes one step, knee-deep, into the snow, then another.

Tyler doesn't even bother with stepping: he bounds through the snow like a dog. If he were shorter, he might disappear with each leap. 

Josh snorts, follows behind in the trail Tyler makes through the snow. It's not quite so high in the forest--the pines have collected some of the snow on their boughs, making it shallower and easier to walk through.

They don't run around tonight, and it ends up being more of a walk than a game. Tyler's pace is brisk, not lingering too long in one place, and Josh keeps up with him well enough. He stops to try to sniff a rabbit track only once, feeling his pads go numb and chill creep up his legs the longer he stays still. Up ahead, Tyler barks, and the animal that is not Josh reluctantly turns away from the scent.

Josh hasn't hunted in this state, but he knows the beast wants to. It's probably too clumsy to catch anything.

Most of the time, Josh is a person with an animal inside him; and, sometimes, the beast is an animal with a person inside it. This frustrates both.

He remembers something Tyler said about him and his siblings chasing rabbits when they were young. Absently, he wonders if they ever caught anything, and if they did, what they did with it. Probably nothing you'd see in a Disney movie. He decides not to ask.

The cold is bitter, and Josh still aches from morphing, but he needs to get out, and the walk does him good, he thinks. He can't say it's easier to be an animal sometimes, but it does allow him to let go of some of his more human worries. All an animal has to worry about is food and sleep and predators; where its next meal is coming from, where it can take shelter when it tires, and where danger lurks.

Animals don't need to worry about almost-kisses and fingers skimming old scars.

Josh doesn't quite duck under a pine bough, and a clump of snow plops onto his head. Startled, he lets out a loud huff, stepping back with one paw raised.

Tyler is standing a bit ahead, but when he hears Josh, he turns back to look. Josh is irritated by the snow, but something makes him falter when he looks back at Tyler.

He's just standing there, on the path, eyes gleaming with an amusement that he understands. His fur is dark as a shadow against the pure white snow, yet it blends well when he paces alongside the pines. He is lean, but strong; Josh doesn't understand why he's thinking about this now.

Tyler pads over, tail high, and Josh just knows that if he were human, he'd be laughing. He huffs again, quieter, shakes his head to toss off the rest of the snow; his head is wet, and in weather like this, that means his head is freezing.

Tyler noses at his cheek, moving up to the top of his head for a sniff before licking a small chunk of ice off his forehead.

Josh doesn't understand what this means. The animal that is not Josh does not understand what this means, either, but it understands what this makes it feel. There's a warmth in its chest, sudden, welcome, unlike anything it's experienced in this shape before, and it lowers its head.

This gives Tyler a better angle, and he continues for a moment, licking the remainders of the snow and ice off his head until the fur there is only damp with spit. Which, Josh notes, is kind of gross. The beast disagrees.

Tyler nudges his shoulder, points behind them with his nose; this is a gesture Josh has learned from experience. Are you ready to head back?

He nods his head, once, and they turn towards home.

Josh is somewhat reluctant to morph back to his human shape as he follows Tyler back into the garage. He's dreading the pain, of course, even though it's started to become a little easier to handle, now that he's handling it with Tyler. Tonight, though, Josh also has to dread the freezing chill; the garage is a little warmer than the back porch, but not by much. Once it starts, he'll be left bare on the cold concrete until he's able to get up again.

It begins as it always does, with Tyler's morph. Josh still doesn't understand why the sight and sound of it triggers him in this way--it's hormonal, maybe--but it definitely does. By the time Tyler is more human than animal, Josh is sinking to the floor, breaths growing heavy as his body begins to change.

The cold doesn't do anything to ease his pain, but it gives him something to try to concentrate on as his muscles ache, as his bones snap back into place. Partway through, he hears the sound of the garage door closing; Tyler must be through with his own morphing, but Josh can't open his eyes and find out.

The sensation of touch is what makes him start, whimpering quietly, just once. When he's like this, between one space and another, oversensitivity is at the forefront of his mind, mixing with the pain. A hand brushes his arm, gentle, and it makes Josh's skin tingle so fiercely that it burns.

His eyes remain shut even after he's human, trying to block out as much of his surroundings as he can. Of course, some things still get through; he can hear Tyler's voice, murmuring something soft that his rattled brain doesn't quite catch.

There's hands on him again, but this time the oversensitivity has turned pleasurable, and Josh leans into the touch with a soft sigh. Hands are on his arm, then his leg, slipping under, and with an odd swooping feeling in his stomach, Josh is being lifted into the air.

He knows it's Tyler by the way he smells, a scent he finds oddly comforting. Huffing out a sigh, Josh burrows his face into the crook of Tyler's arm, relishing in it as his pain subsides.

His morph should be defensive at being touched in this manner, especially when Josh is in a vulnerable state like this. For whatever reason, though, it seems to do the opposite, allowing him to utterly relax into Tyler's arms.

Josh only opens his eyes when his elbow bumps into something solid. Tyler mutters an apology, pushing the rest of the way into the bedroom; he must have hit the door, but it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts right now, actually.

Tyler sets him on the edge of the bed, so gently that Josh almost wants to cry. The comfortable feeling he experienced when Tyler held him drops to nothing when Tyler steps away, and its absence stings bitter in his throat. He berates himself for being so clingy, staying silent as Tyler moves to close the door most of the way, click off the light on the nightstand.

Dark. It's dark. That's okay, though. He doesn't need the light on, Josh's sleepy mind supposes, cold and warm all at once, aching for something he won't name. All he needs is Tyler.

And he gets him, because Tyler wouldn't leave him to sleep alone unless he wanted it. Josh can't see in the pitch black, but he reaches out, fingers brushing Tyler's t-shirt as he grasps blindly at him. Josh isn't thinking when his arms wrap around Tyler's waist, drawing him closer; he just needs him here.

Josh's hands come to rest on the small of his back, forehead resting against Tyler's stomach, having pulled him to the edge of the bed. He feels more than hears Tyler's breaths hitch, but he says nothing, fingers moving to pet Josh's hair, and Josh sighs.

It's not clear how long they stay there, but eventually, they readjust. Tyler gently pushes him back, climbing up onto the bed as Josh lays down. Josh won't let him go far, though, arms around him again as soon as he can get them there, pressing his face into Tyler's neck this time. 

Pine and snowstorms; wet dog. The scent of him is familiar to him in ways he can't explain, and though the beast in the back of his head is not in charge, it rumbles contentedly. Tyler lets Josh hook a leg over his hip, draping an arm around him. He hears him murmur something, but he's not sure what, because soon after, Tyler begins soothingly stroking his back.

That's all it takes for Josh to go boneless, and then he's out like the light on the nightstand.

Chapter Text

Tyler is warm, and soft, and safe. It's only natural for Josh to be drawn to those things, and as a result, only natural for him to be drawn to Tyler. Or at least, that's what he tells himself the next morning.

His mind is always clearer when he wakes up after a morph; with the beast sated, it lets him do most of the thinking and decision-making with only the occasional input. The only consequence, really, is that he tends to think too much, whereas the beast would follow a simple instinct if put into the same place.

Now, with the situation he's in, Josh's thoughts are all over the place. 

It's his fault, and he knows it. He's the one that suggested morphing in the first place. He didn't even need to do it, and now he's here.

He's here, tangled up with Tyler, and very much naked. Tyler's wearing sweatpants--Josh vaguely remembers him wearing them when they fell asleep--but he himself isn't. He supposes this makes sense, heart hammering as his mind sharpens further. He'd been too out of it to even think about putting clothes on, much less feel any sort of shame about his state of undress.

Josh was kept warm last night with Tyler beside him; the temperature isn't the issue.

It's not Tyler, one arm draped comfortably around Josh's waist. It's not the knee between his legs or the breath on his neck, warm and slow in the way that lets him know Tyler is still asleep.

The issue is Josh, and his stupid hands, and his stupid heart. And, okay, his stupid dick, too, because Jesus, Tyler is way too warm and way too close.

Want blooms in the pit of his stomach, but Josh can't let it take charge here. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a moment to think, taking slow, deliberate breaths through his nose. 

Think about something else. Think about the dogs. He can't see them, but they're probably asleep on the floor. They must be hungry by now; Tyler usually feeds them before he goes to work, at least on weekdays. He has to go to work today. Josh wishes he didn't have to go to work today. Josh wishes he could wake him up with a kiss; that Tyler would smile at him, sweet and drowsy, that he'd roll over on top of him and-

And Tyler wakes up.

Josh knows because he can hear and feel that sharp intake of breath against his neck, the way Tyler stirs just slightly. He makes a muffled noise, an indiscernible murmur, then buries his face further into Josh's neck.

Josh holds his breath. His heart is pounding so hard that he could probably hear his pulse in his ears if his blood weren't currently occupied elsewhere. 

Unsure what else to do, torn between what his body and his mind are telling him, Josh shifts slightly, moving his hand up from where it rests on Tyler's lower back. Maybe if he moves, Tyler will notice and wake up fully. God, his skin feels so nice.

For better or for worse--or both--it doesn't work. Instead, Tyler mumbles again, a little lower in tone. There's the soft brush of Tyler's lips on his neck, then, and in that moment, Josh is so high off of him that he swears his heart stops beating.

If Tyler realizes he's hard, Josh is screwed.

So he does the only thing he can do. Feeling flushed from his head to his toes, Josh pulls himself back from Tyler's grip, and shoves him.

Tyler falls out of bed.

"Ow," comes Tyler's voice, followed shortly after by, "The fuck?"

Guilt and embarrassment flood Josh in equal measure as he sits up, yanking the blanket up with him. "Sorry," he gasps. "I didn't mean-"

"Josh?" Tyler must have fallen on his ass; he's rubbing his eye, brows furrowed, his hair a mess. He's beautiful. Arousal coils in the pit of Josh's stomach.

"Sorry," he manages, pulling the blanket up to his nose. He knows his face must be as red as a tomato. "I was just- trying to wake you up? For work?"

"Oh." Tyler is frowning slightly. "You didn't have to do that. I have an alarm on my phone." You didn't have to shove me out of bed, he doesn't say, but Josh knows he's thinking it.

"I don't know," he mumbles, having trouble meeting his eyes. "I didn't mean to push you that hard."

"I must've been on the edge of the bed."

Guilt nips at him, slight but nagging, like insect bites. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Tyler offers him a half smile. When Josh doesn't smile back, he says, "Hey. It's alright, dude. No worries."

He can't know. Maybe he should just play it cool. Josh shrugs a little, watches Tyler get to his feet. "So we're good?"

"We're good," Tyler assures him. He reaches out, ruffling Josh's hair, and it's a friendly gesture--it always is--but it's not exactly helping Josh's problem.

"I can make breakfast again while you get ready," he blurts out.

"You don't have-"

"No!" Josh feels his face get hotter, prays it's not noticeable. "No, I like doing it. Really."

Tyler just looks at him for a long moment. "Okay," he says at last, stepping back. Josh pretends not to watch as Tyler moves towards the bedroom door; he can't help admiring the slight curve of his back.

He stops just before he leaves, looking back to Josh, who pulls the sheet up over his nose, hoping to hide his red cheeks. Tyler raises a brow, but doesn't ask, just grins and says, "Good morning, by the way." Then he goes.

Josh is so screwed.

He gets out of bed after a few minutes, adamantly refusing to touch himself or think about anything other than the task ahead of him. Josh dresses, lets the dogs out, and makes breakfast as promised.

This time, he hears Tyler come into the kitchen, and he's not startled by the sound. He can tell without getting close that he's freshly showered; the distinctly animal scent that usually clings to him after a morph is washed out.

When did he start noticing things like that? And why is he disappointed?

They eat breakfast together, neither talking about Josh's weird behavior that morning. Seeking some other conversation topic, Josh grasps at something that's been lingering in the back of his mind since the night previous.

"While I was recovering," he starts, and Tyler's pretty eyes look up from his breakfast. "From, you know, the whole process, last night."

"Yeah?."

"What was that?"

Tyler blinks. "What was what?"

"That noise you made." Josh feels shy all of a sudden, and he doesn't even really know why this time. "What was that?"

"Oh." Tyler shrugs a little, looks back down at his plate. "I don't know. I was just trying to help, I guess. Make you feel better." He stabs a piece of egg with his fork. "Did it work?"

Make you feel better. Josh's heart is doing somersaults. "Yeah," he says, which makes Tyler smile.

He kind of wants to ask about the other thing--the part where he licked snow off of his forehead--but it'd be kind of weird to talk about, right? He's been awkward enough for a lifetime this morning. Besides, it kind of brings up something Josh has been trying to avoid.

That something is how he feels about Tyler. Which, apparently, he can't escape no matter whether they're animals in the snow or humans in bed.

So, Josh doesn't mention it. He finishes his food, instead, doing the dishes while Tyler lets the dogs in, feeding them and grabbing a cup of coffee before he leaves for work. It's all so domestic It makes him long for the life he had before the facility; or, perhaps, for something better, something a little less lonely. A home with himself and someone else and a whole lot of dogs.

It feels like ages since he's had the house to himself. Which is stupid, honestly, for multiple reasons; it's only been two days, first of all, and the dogs are always home with him, so he's not even totally alone. Tyler's just working. He'll be back later.

Josh doesn't think he likes being alone anymore.

He would've all but killed for solitude back at the facility. Whenever he wasn't alone, he was surrounded by researchers, observing him and taking notes from behind thick glass and reinforced steel. Even when they did give him something resembling privacy, he knew he was still being watched; there were cameras on him, always.

This place is not like the facility. He's still watched, but only by the dogs, who are more curious than anything else. Josh no longer sees hostility or apprehension in their behavior.

Tyler said something about it, once. They know you can morph, he'd claimed. They're sensitive to it. They were wary about you at first, but now that we've morphed together, they know I trust you.

Josh still struggles to understand why Tyler has chosen to trust him. He doesn't think he should trust him, either. 

The fact that he does trust him, that he continues to choose to trust him, makes his heart ache.

Keeping himself busy distracts him from this ache; this guilt, this knowledge that he's not good for Tyler, that he'll probably end up ruining this no matter how much he doesn't want to. Because after all that's been done to him--all he signed up for, no matter how little he understood it at the time--Josh is not just Josh. He shares a body with something else.

Whenever Tyler's not home, Josh distracts himself with TV, among other things.

Sometimes he plays video games. Sometimes he does something small around the house, some small chore he probably won't screw up, like washing dishes or sweeping the hallway. He pets the dogs; Jim, especially, who practically follows him everywhere.

Sometimes, Josh plays with the dogs. This distraction is perhaps the happiest of the bunch.

When the snow was only a thin coat on the ground, he'd let the dogs out and play fetch with Jim, Belle, and Rusty, who kept bringing him sticks. Ned would tear around the yard like he was electric, so full of energy that Josh couldn't keep up with him. Duke and Daisy stuck close together, sniffing every inch of snow and debris to make sure there wasn't anything of interest. And Molly, being a senior dog, simply did her business before coming back up onto the porch and wanting to be let back into the warm house.

The snow is thicker, now, though, and the dogs don't go far; certainly not the smaller ones, as they can't move through the snow well. Josh lets them out to do their business, but it's cold, and they want back in almost as soon as they're finished.

Jim still wants to play fetch inside--which he does, with a little stuffed bear that looks like it's seen better days. It's got one eye missing, and it's a little gross, but Jim always gives Josh the biggest sad eyes if he doesn't throw it when he sets it in his lap.

It certainly gives him something to do. Josh spends most of the day throwing Jim's toy for him, sitting on the couch and half watching different things on TV. He can't find anything that particularly interests him, so after a while he gives up and just channel surfs.

He's drowsy by the time he comes across the local news channel. Jim has grown tired of fetch and is laying at his feet, teddy bear forgotten on the couch; Ned is using it as a pillow as he dozes. Frankly, Josh has half a mind to join him. Though he slept well after last night's morph, he's still a little worn out. A nap would be nice.

The volume from the TV is low, but Josh can still hear the news anchor's voice, serious in that fake way that's probably meant to mimic professionalism. He doesn't really care what she's saying, but allows her words to fill the background as he starts to slip off.

Back to our earlier story, police have taped off the home of local woman Martha Hudson, whose decomposing body was found early this morning by concerned neighbors. We were able to speak with one of those neighbors, who said Hudson lived alone and that locals checked in on her from time to time, due to her relatives living out of state and being unable to care for her in her old age. Hudson's relatives have been contacted by local law enforcement, who have opened an investigation. Foul play is suspected.

In possibly related news, police are still searching for escaped convict Joshua Dun, who has been missing since his escape from Montana State Penitentiary several months ago.

Chapter Text

Josh's heart lurches so hard, so fast, he feels like he's falling. His eyes snap open.

That's him.. That's him, in the photo on the TV. They must have taken it from the facility; he doesn't remember it, but he looks dazed in the photo; it could have been one of the times they drugged him, or deprived him of sleep. It looks like a mugshot.

Josh is not a criminal.

When asked if Dun might be connected with Hudson's murder, officials said they were looking into every possible motive. It seems that this tragic death fits in with Dun's previous convictions, including robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and homicide.

He's not. He wouldn't. He isn't.

Civilians are encouraged to lock their doors and windows after sunset and to contact police if they see anyone matching Dun's description. Officials from the Penitentiary claim that he has likely been without his prescription medication since his escape, and he may be experiencing hallucinations, violent impulses, and delusions related to his withdrawal. Again, it is currently believed that he is armed and dangerous-

Somewhere, Josh is aware of the front door opening and closing, of the dogs leaping up and running towards the sound with wagging tails and lolling tongues. It feels distant. It feels unimportant, irrelevant. 

Tyler can heal him when he's hurt, show him how to morph, make his heart soft. He can't keep him safe. Not forever.

"Josh?" Tyler's voice echoes in his head with the news anchor, who has moved on to a different story. Josh can't. Convict. Robbery. Assault. Homicide.

"Josh. Josh, hey." Tyler's voice gets closer, softer. "What happened?"

He tries to speak, but the words don't come. His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. A hand brushes his shoulder, curious, or perhaps concerned, but he barely feels the touch.

Tyler mumbles something he doesn't catch. The TV is playing a commercial for toothpaste. The dogs are swarming Tyler, still happy to see him home; all but Jim, who noses at Josh's knee. He's a smart dog. He knows something is wrong.

Something is so wrong.

Logically, Josh knows why the facility would lie in this way to the public. It means people will be looking for him--not necessarily seeking him out, but keeping their eyes open for him. It means they know his face. It means they're afraid of him.

He knows he'll never be safe.

"Josh." Tyler's voice is solid, firm, trying to steady him, but Josh is standing on a pillar of sand, and it's crumbling to pieces under his feet. 

Feeling sick, Josh bends at the waist, and puts his head between his knees.

His fingers clutch at his own hair, desperate to hold onto something, feel something that isn't fear or dread. Apart from his labored breaths, the only other sensations he's aware of are Jim nosing at his leg and whining, and Tyler rubbing his back, right between his shoulder blades.

Josh doesn't throw up. He almost wishes he could, just to feel better after. This just isn't something he can rid himself of so easily, and he knows that. He always knew that. If only knowing could make it a little easier.

He keeps his eyes shut, even as his breaths even out. Stress makes each inhale feel like climbing a mountain, but he does it, anyway. It's what he's always done. Even in the facility, when he was in pain, afraid and alone, he kept breathing.

"They think I killed someone," he rasps at last. It's low, ragged; defeated.

Tyler's hand stills on his back. "Who?"

"The news. They said- some old woman. They said it was me."

Silence.

"But you didn't."

Josh almost hates how certain Tyler sounds.

"It doesn't matter if I didn't!" He sits up so fast his head pounds, and spots swim in front of his eyes. Josh blinks hard, tears having gathered in the corners of his eyes, making it even harder to see. "It doesn't matter. They said I did. People will believe it."

"I don't."

"You're you." Josh slumps against the couch, all the fight drained out of him as quickly as it seeped in. "Everyone else is going to see my face plastered all over the news, and- they said I killed someone." His voice cracks.

Tyler doesn't try to talk to him. He doesn't tell Josh it'll all be okay, or that he'll never be hurt again. He sinks into the couch next to Josh, instead, wrapping his arms around him in a hug so fierce it almost makes Josh feel light-headed. Though, that could be the terror clawing at his throat, making it hard to breathe.

"I didn't kill anyone," he says, soft, frightened. "I didn't. I swear, I didn't."

Tyler's fingers card through his hair, face pressed into Josh's neck. He mumbles into the collar of Josh's shirt. "I know."

They stay that way for a long time. Josh isn't entirely sure when they separate, only that Tyler drapes a blanket around his shoulders, mumbling a promise to return with a warm drink. Josh sits, perched on the edge of the couch, cold and anxious, and waits.

Jim is laying at his feet. When Josh sniffs, he lifts his head, looking at him. The other dogs have gone with Tyler, following him around the kitchen--Josh can hear him boiling some water, probably for tea--but Jim is still here.

He whines at Josh.

Silently, Josh reaches out an unsteady hand. Jim sits up right away, licking his hand and wagging his tail too fast, like he's nervous. Josh doesn't have the words to reassure him, so he pets his ears instead. His fingers feel a little numb.

Tyler comes back a few moments later with what smells like a cup of tea. He sits gently next to Josh, carefully, as though afraid to spook him, and presses the mug into his hands. Otherwise, he makes no move to touch him.

"Can you tell me a little more about what happened?" 

Josh holds the mug, but his stomach is tight, and he can't bear to bring the drink to his lips. In a low voice, he repeats the words branded into his head, the ones spoken by the newscaster, along with the details that struck him like a slap to the face. Convict. Robbery. Assault. Homicide.

Tyler's quiet for a long minute after he's finished. Josh, afraid to look at him and see a stranger, stares into his untouched mug of tea, cradling it closer. Jim leans into his leg with a sigh, but otherwise remains quiet.

"You didn't do it," Tyler murmurs at last. "The things they said you did."

Josh shakes his head. "But they still said it."

"Why?"

"Why?" He looks up. Tyler's expression is hard to read. "Because they're still looking for me. They've put me on a wanted poster so everybody knows who I am and what I look like. They'll never stop looking." A shudder snakes down his spine. "There might- I don't know if there's a reward."

"A reward," Tyler echoes. Abruptly, he gets to his feet, faster than Josh had thought.

His face is twisted into something Josh hasn't seen on him before. His hands shake on the mug, too loose. Tyler's hands, contrasting, are clenched into fists.

"A fucking reward," Tyler spits, pacing in front of the TV, and Josh understands, or at least, he thinks he does. Tyler is angry, and not with him.

Unsure what to say to make it better--unsure if there is any such thing--Josh remains quiet. He sets the mug on the coffee table with trembling hands, drawing the blanket around himself a little more and absently petting Jim. His fur is soft, especially on his head and behind his ears. Over and over, Josh smooths his hand over this fur, staring at Tyler's feet, still clad in his work shoes, as he paces back and forth over the carpet.

Tyler doesn't stop. "You're not something to be bought or sold," he says, and Josh could swear there's almost a hint of a snarl to his voice. "You're a person. They've put you through so much, like they don't care. You're not an animal."

"I am," Josh says, soft.

Tyler stops still. His eyes move to Josh, intense in a way he doesn't have a word for. "You're as human as me," he says, insistent. "You shouldn't be mistreated any more than I should, or any other person should."

"I wasn't born to be this. I'm not pure. Not like you." Josh's voice wavers. "I was born human, but I'm not anymore."

"I don't care," Tyler snaps, startling him. He turns away, rubbing his face with his hands. "No. I'm sorry. I do care. I care a lot. Whatever you call yourself, whatever you are, I care about you. They did this to you, Josh. They tortured you, they made you hate yourself like this, and I-"

Josh and Jim both jump when Tyler's fist hits the wall. It doesn't make a hole, or even a dent; it's more of a loud knock than anything else, like Tyler is pounding on the door of the facility itself, demanding to speak to whoever claims to be in charge. Josh can't imagine that going very well.

"I hate them," Tyler hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Josh to catch. "I hate them so much."

Yet again, Josh has no idea what to say. It's different, somehow, this time.

Whatever you call yourself, whatever you are, I care about you. Josh knew this before, despite not understanding it. But it's different to hear Tyler say it. It's different to hear someone say your life matters when you spent an entire year of that life being treated as if it didn't.

He doesn't know when he started crying; maybe when Tyler first said he was human. Josh feels twisted up inside, in ways equally wonderful and terrible. Fear holds grip on half of his heart, pulling fiercely, greedily, whispering promises of recapture and pain at the hands of those who altered him. Josh knows they won't just let him go. They want him alive. They aren't done with him yet, and their hold only seems to squeeze tighter as time goes on.

The other half of his heart is held by Tyler.

It's held by Tyler, who turns from the wall he's been facing to look at Josh. His face, twisted into a fierce scowl, immediately drops to something gentler. He stops his pacing, sinks to his knees in front of Josh, probably trying to avoid upsetting the beast; not that it matters, as it's hiding away at the reminder that yes, it, too, is being hunted.

Silent tears are sliding down Josh's cheeks, because he's being hunted, and because he thinks he really might be falling in love.

"I'm sorry," Tyler says in a small voice. His hands, too, are shaking now. "I wouldn't- I didn't mean to scare you. I'd never hurt you."

Despite everything, a half smile forms on Josh's face. When he parts his lips to speak, he can taste the salt of his tears on his tongue. "I know," he says. And he means that. Tyler's frustration is understandable. He's not afraid of him because he's seen so many different sides of Tyler, so many aspects, and none of them, not one, has been anything less than kind to him.

Tyler cares about him. Tyler has taken care of him in his dark hours, healed him where he can. Josh knows he wouldn't hurt him.

And that, he realizes slowly, might be something like trust.

Chapter Text

There's not much to say. Tyler makes dinner, and Josh helps when he asks; Tyler can probably tell he needs something to do. He still feels unsteady, shaken, but panic no longer paralyzes him or makes him sick.

Now, he just feels dread.

The future is clear to him. Either he'll spend the rest of his life running, trying to escape the stubborn fact that he unknowingly signed it away over a year ago, or they'll find him again. As bleak as the first option sounds, the second is far worse, and giving himself over to them is out of the question.

Tonight, Josh is quiet. Tyler is, too, but in a different way. Though he shows no further signs of an outburst--his movements are gentler, betraying nothing in terms of what might be going on in his head--there's a certain look in his eyes that lets Josh know he's not placated.

It's a glint, of sorts, under the light over the dining room table. They're eating together, and there's far less conversation than usual. Even the dogs are subdued; Ned's not begging for scraps, just sitting in the doorway and watching.

They're not afraid, at least Josh doesn't think so. They just know something's wrong.

"How far did you run?"

Josh's fork scrapes the plate. "What?"

Tyler's staring at his own food. "How far did you run?"

"From..." he starts, but doesn't finish. It's clear enough what Tyler's asking. "I don't know."

"Do you remember any landmarks?" Tyler still won't look at him; the brown of his eyes, normally soft, is piercing. "Names? Locations?"

"No." Josh breathes in, and it feels weird. Crackly, spotted, like the air isn't quite making it to his brain. "You're not thinking of-"

"I don't know what I'm thinking," Tyler says, almost carefully. He shrugs like it doesn't matter to him. "If you know who did this, or where they are, we could contact the police."

"They'd never believe me."

Tyler sets his fork down. "Maybe not." There's a pause, dangerous. "I could-"

"No," Josh says immediately. "No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I can guess."

"I wouldn't make you go back there." Tyler blinks. "Never. But if I could get in-"

"No."

"I can't let them just-"

"What would you do, Tyler?" Josh knows he's raising his voice, but panic is building in his chest again and he can't tamp it down. "Find an antidote that doesn't exist? Bring the records to the police? Kill everyone in the building?"

Tyler's quiet for a long moment. "I have to do something," he says at last, softer now.

"Then do something," Josh says. "Just not that."

"I just..."

"I know." And he does. "Promise you won't go anywhere near that place."

"How can I promise that if I don't even know where it is?"

"Tyler."

There's a tired, defeated look on Tyler's face, but he gives Josh a small smile all the same. "I promise," he says. Only then does Josh's anxiety begin to lessen.

The tension between them eases, too. With Tyler's promise not to seek out those who hurt him, Josh calms down a little, and this calms Tyler, too.

After dinner, they half watch one of those stupid, shitty horror movies on TV--something about monsters, freed from melting ice caps. It's a little too similar to Josh's situation, in some roundabout way, if he thinks about it too hard.

When he starts at a well-timed jumpscare, he half expects Tyler to laugh or tease him about it; good-naturedly, of course. If this were any other movie night, he might. Instead, Josh settles back against the couch again, and Tyler silently puts an arm around his shoulders. He wishes he would come closer and he wishes he'd move away.

Neither of them speaks about the target on Josh's back.

He brushes his teeth, after, avoiding his reflection in the mirror and trying to keep himself from overthinking everything. He can hear Tyler in the other room, getting the dogs settled; he talks to them in a soft voice, even when he scolds them. Down, Jim. There you go. Ned, stop licking your junk and lay down already.

Josh laughs, surprising himself, toothpaste dripping down his chin. Leaning over the sink, he spits, then washes his face before putting the washcloth back on the rack and lifting the toilet seat.

Tyler uses the bathroom next, leaving Josh alone in the bedroom. This is their routine, any night they're not morphing: Josh gets ready for bed, then Tyler. Josh is laying down by the time Tyler gets out of the bathroom, and Tyler shuts out the light before climbing in after him. They cuddle, sometimes, if Josh can work up the nerve to ask, or if Tyler offers. They sleep.

Tonight, Josh is still up when Tyler steps back into the bedroom. He's sitting on the bed, legs crossed, anxiety beginning to boil in his stomach again. Tyler stops in the doorway when he sees him; the string of his sweatpants is untied, and he has a spot of toothpaste on his t-shirt. 

Tyler is beautiful. Josh doesn't deserve beautiful things.

"Okay?" comes Tyler's voice. The light on the nightstand casts him in a soft glow.

Josh pulls his knees up to his chest, shrugs, looks at the floor.

The light disappears as Tyler turns off the lamp. Josh scoots back on the bed, unwilling to lay down just yet, and he feels the mattress dip as Tyler climbs up.

He's close; Josh knows without looking. He can feel the warmth coming off his skin, imagines the soft puff of breath on his cheek. Guilt prods at him immediately, and he turns his head away.

"Josh," Tyler says, softer. "We should probably talk about... whatever happens now." He's not talking about this, this thing between them that Josh refuses to put a name to.

Josh curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt. "I don't want to talk about it," he says. "I don't want..."

Though he doesn't push it, Tyler doesn't let it go, either. His hand comes to rest on Josh's knee, his thumb rubbing small circles. It's probably meant to be soothing, and in other circumstances it would be, but all Josh can think about is how much he doesn't want this to end.

They never asked him what he wanted.

"I don't want to go," he says at last, eyes shut. 

"I wouldn't make you," Tyler says gently. "I like having you here."

Something like a choked laugh escapes Josh's mouth. "They're going to make me. You have to know that. Don't lie to yourself," he insists. "Or to me."

Tyler's quiet for a moment, just sitting on the edge of the bed, thumb still rubbing in circles. "I won't," he says. "Lie to you, I mean. But you have to give me a chance."

Josh doesn't answer.

"I know trust is hard for you," Tyler whispers, "but this is me telling you that you can, if you want. You can trust me to do everything I can to keep them from taking you back there. You can trust me to provide shelter and friendship for as long as you want it."

"Tyler," Josh murmurs.

A warm, gently calloused hand brushes against his cheek; Tyler is pushing a curl out of his face. Josh opens his eyes to see the outline of Tyler in the dark, blurred at the edges, but as real as anything. "You can trust me to protect you," Tyler finishes. "As much as I can."

If Josh were more reckless, he'd kiss him. "You can't promise they won't take me," he says instead.

Tyler shakes his head, a slight bitter tone to his voice when he speaks again. "I want to. But I can't predict what they'll do. I just..." Josh hears him swallow. "I promise, I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

"I don't think I'll ever be safe," Josh whispers. "I think I'm always going to carry part of that place with me."

Tyler doesn't say anything. His fingers still on Josh's knee, hesitant, like he wants to ask for something he can't have. Josh wants to understand, he really does. 

When he shifts to sit with his legs crossed, Tyler's hand moves away, and Josh feels the loss like a punch to the gut. He reaches out, hesitant as Tyler was, seeking, and when he finds Tyler's hand, he guides it back to his knee. The touch is grounding, now. It reminds him that he's here, with Tyler, out of reach of the facility and the people within.

It won't last forever. He wants to cherish this moment, this brief safety, while he can.

Tyler's fingers tap on his knee, like he's nervous, a sort of itch gnawing in the back of his mind. It scares Josh, almost, how much he's picked up on these sort of clues Tyler's body language gives off. Like he's known him for years instead of a few months.

"What?" he manages at last.

"Nothing," Tyler mumbles, hand stilling again. His thumb is over the scar just above his knee, jagged, a gorge in the prairie of Josh's skin. He's reminded, for a brief moment, of the last time Tyler touched this scar, and oh. Oh. He thinks he understands.

"You can," he says, stopping there, before he can say something wrong. He's wearing boxers; he meant to change into sweatpants while Tyler was in the bathroom, but he got lost in thought. He feels the slight chill in the air, nipping at him. The temperature, though, has nothing to do with the goosebumps that make his skin prickle.

Tyler doesn't speak, but Josh can hear his breath hitch, just slightly. He doesn't move his hand; his fingers twitch, like he's aching to touch just as much as Josh aches to be touched.

Shutting his eyes again, Josh takes a deep breath, puts his hand over Tyler's, and slowly guides it up, up, up to the scar on his thigh. The one Tyler stitched closed, the one he healed, the one he cared for. It wasn't caused by him--Josh knows this, fully--but a little voice in his head whispers to him: Tyler's scar.

The scary thing is, he doesn't know who the voice belongs to: the beast, or himself.

Either way, it feels good to have Tyler's fingers on the scar, his touch as light as a breath. It feels right, and despite the dark history behind it, along with all of other Josh's scars, some of the tension in his body begins to loosen.

Tyler is gentle, the way Josh hoped he would be, the way he needs him to be. He's still careful, at first, as though afraid to cross Josh's boundaries or bring back bad memories. When Josh lets go of his hand, however, he seems to understand, and he tentatively traces the smooth line, the wound he stitched up with his own hands. Once, twice, three times; from one end to the other, like he's trying to read by touch.

"I'm sorry," he admits to the space between them.

Josh concentrates on his breaths, slow and even. He opens his eyes again. "You didn't do this."

"I know." Tyler traces the scar again, easy, natural. "I'm sorry it happened to you. And I'm sorry I wasn't there to heal the other ones."

"Not your fault."

The outline of Tyler shrugs slightly, and he says nothing more. Josh remembers, last time they did this, how it felt; like a dog rolling over to show its belly. Vulnerable, as though he were exposing his weaknesses to Tyler and allowing him to sink his teeth in, if he wished.

Tyler wouldn't do that. In the months that Josh has spent here, he's learned that much. Even the beast seems to have completely turned around, going from seeing Tyler as a threat to a companion, an animal like itself. 

"I trust you," Josh says, quiet, and as the words slip out, he knows them to be true.

Tyler could have left him there in the woods the night they met. He was stronger, physically, in his morphed state; if he'd been out there in the cold, naked and wounded and alone, he could have died. Perhaps worse, he could have been recaptured.

But Tyler didn't leave him there. He didn't leave him to die. He brought him to his home, healed his wounds, kept him as safe as he could under the circumstances. He's still doing that, now. 

He could have hurt him if he wanted to. He could have, but he didn't. He isn't.

If this is trust, Josh thinks he can handle it.

It feels like they've been here forever, but it hasn't been near long enough. Josh would like it to be forever. He'd like for the world to shrink down, encircling him and Tyler and this bed, cradled in the arms of the universe.

Tyler's touch stills again at his confession, but Josh doesn't give himself time to worry about it too hard. He just rests, head hanging, and he exhales slowly as he stares at Tyler's hand on his scar. And he waits.

"That means a lot to me," Tyler says at last. His voice is hardly a whisper. "Thank you."

Josh looks up to see his smile, bright and beautiful even in the dark, even though he can't see it as clearly as he'd like. In a fraction of a second, something in his chest cracks, like splintering bone. Tyler is beautiful.

"I trust you, too," Tyler tells him, his fingers kissing Josh's skin. It doesn't feel like ownership; it feels like security, protection. It feels right. "But you knew that already."

The bone snaps.

The bone snaps, and because Josh can't stop making mistakes--because he himself is a mistake, something fabricated in a lab far from home--he falls forward, into Tyler, and he kisses him.

Chapter Text

It's like the dog again, rolling over to show its belly; except, now, Josh can't stop offering up his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. He kisses Tyler because Tyler is his biggest weakness. Tyler is the reason he's stayed here for as long as he has. Tyler is the reason that the beast is sated, and Tyler is the reason that Josh sleeps through the night. 

Tyler is the reason he doesn't want this to end.

It would be easier, maybe, if Tyler didn't react, or if he pushed Josh away. It would be easier for Josh to cut the cord tangling them together. He could disappear into the woods, leaving Tyler and the dogs behind, safer than they would be if he stuck around. He'd have to keep moving; he might get caught again, he might not. But Tyler would be safe from them.

Except Tyler does react, and he doesn't push Josh away. The kiss is slow, soft, and Tyler's mouth is warm on Josh's; his hands are warm, too, one on his thigh, the other on his sleeve, fingers curling into his t-shirt. He's kissing back.

It's not the kind of kiss that sets off fireworks or lights a bonfire. It's the kind of kiss that levels cities. It's the kind of kiss that sends even the sturdiest of foundations crumbling.

They can't go back.

Josh can't bear to push Tyler away, so he leans back instead, separating them again. His head thunks against the wall behind him, but he barely feels it. His heart is pounding so hard he swears he can hear it, even over his and Tyler's shaky breaths.

"Sorry," Josh says, as if it could undo anything. "I'm-" And in the thinnest sliver of moonlight slipping through the window, he sees the sheen of spit on Tyler's lip, and fuck, he has to stop. "Sorry."

"Josh," Tyler answers, sounding calmer than he looks. His eyes are like saucers, staring right into Josh's soul, almost pleading. Josh knows what he's asking, but he's afraid to answer.

"I didn't," he manages, but he can't go through with it. It would be a lie. "I shouldn't," he says instead, which is true. This is a mistake. No matter what he feels, no matter what Tyler feels, this won't end well for either of them. 

Except Tyler says his name again, hardly a breath, and he's so close Josh can feel every syllable on his face, in his chest. Tyler's hand is still on his thigh; his thumb presses into the scar, and Josh shudders.

"Josh."

If Josh were a stronger person, perhaps, he'd be able to resist the temptation to kiss Tyler again, but he isn't; certainly not when it comes to Tyler, because the second he leans in, almost imperceptibly, Josh is falling into him again. This time, Tyler meets him halfway.

It's even better, even worse, than the first kiss. This one is less tentative, and Josh can taste Tyler's toothpaste on his tongue when their lips part. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, trying to form some kind of apology, to say I can't do this to you, but then Tyler's tongue meets his and he makes a different kind of noise.

It's a hell of a mistake. It's a hell of a second kiss.

Tyler mumbles something into his mouth, something like Josh's name, and Josh's hands are shaking so bad he has to clench them into fists. Kissing Tyler is like breathing underwater, slow and languid and agonizing in the most beautiful way. 

It's one thing to be falling in love, and to be aware of it. It's another thing entirely to give in to those feelings, to stop trying to hold back the tides and let it crash down over you like a wave. With Tyler close like this, with no possibility of this being anything platonic, Josh feels like he's caught up in the riptide, pulled out to sea.

He thinks he'll die if he stops drowning.

He stops.

"We should-" And then the words die in his lungs, because Tyler is kissing the corner of his mouth, fingers tugging at his sleeve. Josh forgets what he was going to say. "Uh."

"We should," Tyler agrees, but it's hard to say what, exactly, he's agreeing to. His mouth is on Josh's jaw, now; it's intimate, beautiful. Feeling shaky in a way he can't get enough of, Josh lifts his chin, baring his throat, and Tyler kisses there, too. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the beast honest to god purrs.

"Tyler," he manages at last, when Tyler has worked his way down his neck and back up again. Maybe it should be sexual, but it isn't; he's gentle, just kissing, and Josh doubts he's left any marks. It's not about ownership or physical desire. It's about Josh wanting to show Tyler he trusts him, Tyler wanting to prove he's worth that trust.

"Yeah," Tyler mumbles against his Adam's apple. Reluctantly, he draws back, and Josh feels the loss like a knife pulled from a stab wound. "Yeah. Sorry. I just..."

"My fault." If Josh looks at him, he'll have to kiss him again, so he shuts his eyes. "Let's just. It's late. We should-"

"Go to bed," Tyler finishes. His hands withdraw from Josh's sleeve, Josh's thigh.

"Get some sleep," Josh agrees. He shifts in place, unable to repress the worry in his heart, and he has to look. He has to know Tyler's okay.

Tyler's pupils are blown wide. His lips are a warm pink from kissing, his fingers twitching on the knee of his sweatpants. He doesn't look horrified or disgusted, just... he looks like he's crushing down every little thing he wants to say.

Josh knows the feeling.

They both lay down, side by side, and Tyler pulls the covers up. The light is already out, the dogs are already asleep on the floor, and the curtains are shut. Everything is as it should be.

Except, they're not touching.

Josh lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, a swath of indiscernible darkness. He doesn't cry, though he feels like he could. "Did I fuck everything up?" he whispers to Tyler without turning his head.

Tyler's answer comes just as softly. "No. Not possible."

He's not sure he believes that. It's a little easier when Tyler touches his arm, draws him close to cuddle up to his chest, but his doubts don't let him sleep for some time.

It's not exactly awkward the next morning; not compared to the times they've woken up naked together after a morph the night before.

It's not awkward, but it's not right, either. Tyler climbs out of bed to take a shower and get ready for work, glancing back, but Josh makes himself roll over and bury his face in the pillow. Tyler doesn't say anything, and eventually Josh hears the soft click of the door closing as he leaves.

He can't look him in the eyes later, either. They eat cereal in silence, only the sound of their spoons clinking on the bowls and chewing filling the space. 

Tyler leaves for work with only a soft I'll be home at four behind him. Work boots are laced, a jacket is taken from the coat rack, and then the front door is shut. Tyler's car rumbles awake in the driveway, and the sound slowly fades as it gets further away.

Josh just sits there, at the kitchen table, his half empty bowl of cereal in front of him. He resists the urge to put his face in his hands and leans back in his chair, eyes slipping shut.

Which is a mistake, because the second he does, all he can see is the blurred shape of Tyler in the dark. If he lets himself, he can remember what it felt like to finally kiss him.

He shouldn't let himself.

He's not very good at not letting himself do things, not when it comes to Tyler. God, he's tried.

A queasiness has made itself known in Josh's stomach; not a physical nausea, necessarily, but his appetite is gone. Josh forces himself to finish his cereal, not wanting to waste food that Tyler paid for, and he does the dishes. He takes a shower. He sits in the living room and stares absently at the TV, set to one of the shitty horror movies he and Tyler watched last week.

Before Josh went and fucked it all up, because despite what Tyler said last night, he knows it's true. 

The feelings between them are no longer the main concern. They would have been, once, but as he continues to spend time with Tyler in any capacity, he's come to realize how utterly intrigued the beast is with him.

Embarrassing as it can be for Josh, the beast has formed a tight, quick bond with Tyler, like claws sinking into fur. It gets antsy when he's gone for long periods of time, and it craves his casual touch. Its desire to break out is sated by chasing Tyler through the forest at night, and by waking up next to him in the morning.

The mere idea of harm coming to Tyler makes it rise up in the back of Josh's head, a snarl caught in its teeth. 

That's the real problem. As long as Josh is here, with Tyler, he won't be safe. The researchers will look for him until they find him, and if they find him here, with Tyler... if they see him as an accessory to Josh's escape, they'll kill him. If they find out he can morph, Jesus. Josh doesn't want to think about that. He can't let that happen.

Getting attached to Tyler--letting something more than a casual, polite friendship form--gets in the way of letting him go. Letting Tyler go is the only thing Josh knows how to do to keep him safe.

He can't find a solution where they both end up happy. He can't find a solution where either of them end up happy, to be honest. 

The mess Josh has become is sticky, hungry, dragging in anything good and gumming up the gears, covering glossy exteriors with sludge. Tyler is beautiful, but with his creators following him, Josh will undoubtedly drag him down, one way or another.

It can't be undone.

None of it can. Josh will always be a man turned morph who ran from the facility straight into Tyler's arms. He will always be the one who sought his comfort, who sought his company. He will always be the one who couldn't take the distance when it came down to that.

And Tyler will always be more than he deserves.

Chapter Text

The only reasonable option left is for Josh to leave.

It'd be better to do it now, before Tyler gets home, because saying goodbye in person would be impossible. He'd open his mouth to speak, and Tyler's dark eyes would flick over his face, curious, and the words would die in his mouth.

If he leaves now, though, he can leave a note.

There's one of those notepads with magnets on the back stuck to the fridge, probably used for grocery lists. Josh takes it, along with a pencil, and sits at the kitchen table.

And... he sits.

Tyler, he starts, then stops, starts again. I'm sorry.

Again and again, Josh tries to come up with a way to tell Tyler he can't stay here anymore, for his own good. They're going to come for me, he tries, though he scribbles this out. Tyler already knows that. Tyler knows they're going to come for him, that he could get caught up in that, and he doesn't care. He wants to protect Josh. Josh craves that protection, something as certain as security, but it's just not possible.

I can't let anything happen to you. If they knew you could morph- It feels dangerous to write that word, so he erases it. You'll be safer with me gone. I'll be on the road, but I'll be alright. Even to him, it sounds false, flat.

Josh's pencil stills on the paper. I, it reads. I. He knows how he feels about Tyler, but it's another thing to admit it to him. To do so on paper, brief and impersonal, is downright painful.

He tries to write another apology, something like I'm sorry I kissed you, but he's not nearly as sorry about it as he should be; he wanted to kiss Tyler, and they probably both know that. I shouldn't have kissed you is more accurate. He tries to write this, too, except all he can picture is the hurt in Tyler's eyes if he were to ever say it aloud.

Tyler cares about him, too, one way or another. He kissed him back. He swore to keep him safe. He showed him how to morph without losing control. He showed him that he isn't just an animal, that he's wanted and appreciated. He showed him how to stop being afraid, if only briefly.

Josh is pressing too hard on the paper. The lead tip of the pencil breaks.

Two hours before Tyler comes home, Josh gathers up all the failed goodbye notes, and throws them away. None of them are enough; some of them don't even make sense.

You're pure. Beautiful. Josh puts the notepad back on the fridge.

Especially compared to me. He puts the pencil back in its cup.

I can't ruin your life like this. He sits on the couch, curls up with a blanket, and puts something mindless on the TV.

I think I love you.

He stays there, quiet and still, petting Jim's soft fur and waiting for Tyler to come home. An hour passes.

An hour passes, and a car pulls up in the driveway.

Panic flares up in Josh's chest immediately, but the dogs don't seem upset; they run to the door, tails wagging and nails clicking on the hardwood. They're smart enough to recognize the sound of the specific car, and after a few seconds, Josh realizes Tyler must be home early.

He hears the keys fumble in the lock, and the front door swings open before slamming shut. Again, anxiety clutches at him, making him stand up fast, blanket falling off his lap and onto the floor. It's Tyler, he knows it is--the beast has picked up his scent--but something's definitely wrong. Tyler's not normally so careless, nor clumsy.

He nearly jumps when Tyler rounds the corner into the living room, even though he knew he would. His car keys are in his hand, his shoes and coat are still on, and he's not petting the dogs as they swarm around him. He's staring at Josh instead, eyes blown wide, like he's looking at a ghost.

Josh opens his mouth to speak, maybe ask if everything's okay, but Tyler lunges before he can. Josh braces himself--he doesn't know what for.

A... hug. It's a hug. A fierce one.

Tyler's arms are tight around him, secure, and his face presses into the collar of Josh's hoodie. His fingers curl into the fabric. This... wasn't what Josh was expecting. Not that he knew what to expect, but.

Carefully, he wraps his arms around Tyler in return. He knows he's not really safe, may never be again, but he almost feels as though he is here. Josh lets his head lean against Tyler's, exhaling a shaky breath, letting his eyes close. 

He's not safe, but with Tyler holding him, he wants to be.

Their embrace must only last a minute, but Josh's knees feel a little weak when Tyler lets him go. He looks disheveled; wide-eyed and beautiful. His cheeks are pink, probably from the chill outside. 

Josh thinks about kissing him. "What's wrong?" he asks, instead, though he's a little afraid of the answer.

For a second, Tyler looks like he has no idea what he's talking about. He must come to his senses, though, because he breaks eye contact at last to glance to Ned, who is chewing pretty vigorously on one of the laces of his boots. 

He almost looks embarrassed. 

"They were talking about you," Tyler admits. "On the radio at work."

To which Josh says, "Oh."

"The announcer said the police were looking into a possible lead, and... I don't know." He's still looking at Ned. "All I could think about was, What if they find him? What if I get home and he's not there?"

Before Josh can think twice about whether or not it's a good idea, he says, "I almost left."

Tyler's head shoots up. "What?"

"I almost left." His voice lowers to a whisper, but he keeps talking. "To keep you safe." Again, the thought comes to him, of this person he's come to care for being put in harm's way, and he swallows. "Tyler, if they found you-"

The breath is knocked out of him when Tyler hugs him again, just as fierce as before. It feels a little different, somehow; something to do with the way Tyler's fingers curl into his sweatshirt, or the way he noses as Josh's neck, though Josh isn't sure if he's imagining that last part.

The first hug was relieved, protective. This one is protective, too, but it's... not possessive. Selfish. That's the word, Josh thinks distantly, as he realized the weak feeling in his knees and the pounding of his heart have nothing to do with anxiety, and everything to do with the way Tyler makes him feel.

Josh understands. His reasons for staying are selfish, too.

"If you want to go," Tyler mumbles, "don't let me stop you." This nearly makes Josh laugh; Tyler's already stopping him, unintentionally, in every way he never thought he could. "But don't go because you're worried about me."

"That's the only reason I would leave," Josh answers.

"I can take care of myself." Tyler huffs, a puff of breath on Josh's neck. "Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust." He opens his eyes, if only to keep visions of Tyler being tortured by the researchers from the forefront of his mind. "I don't want them to hurt you. They're... unbearably cruel."

Tyler's fingers twitch, hands at the small of Josh's back; Josh wonders if he's thinking of the scar on his thigh. "I know. But... I don't want you to go."

Quiet, he admits, "I don't want to go, either."

"Then don't."

A small sigh escapes Josh's mouth, and he starts to speak, but Tyler stops him with a warm breath on his neck; intentional or accidental, he doesn't know, but his protests don't make it out alive.

His arms tighten around Josh's back, and he hides his face in Josh's neck. His voice is soft, more vulnerable than Josh thinks he's ever heard from him before. Tyler is being vulnerable with him. Honest. And Josh is doing the same.

Trust is a mountain that cannot be climbed. Trust is a gentle slope in summer.

"Then don't," Tyler says, soft and vulnerable, with his face in Josh's neck. "Stay here."

With me, he does not say, but he doesn't need to. Josh can hear it just as well as if he had.

"I don't know if I can," he whispers in return.

Tyler is rubbing his back, now, soothing; Josh's troubles do not disappear, but for the moment, his anxieties do.

"Try," Tyler implores, hopeful. This, perhaps, Josh can do.

Chapter Text

Night settles, slow and dark, like a black cat curling up by the fireplace. There are no cats here, of course; just the dogs, and Tyler and Josh, and whatever type of animal lurks in the back of Josh's mind.

He still knows it's separate from him, but it feels less so these days, more like they have similar goals and less like they're at each other's throats. It's still strange--Josh thinks it always will be, sharing his mind and body with an animal. But at least it's better than it was.

Dinner is eaten quietly in the living room. There's a shitty horror movie about zombies and vampires on TV; Josh thinks they're fighting each other, though he's not sure. 

He and Tyler sit close together, close enough to be pressed together from shoulder to hip, but no further attempts at intimacy are made. Josh is forcing himself to watch TV, or at least to keep his eyes trained on the screen. He's got too much on his mind to concentrate on the movie.

"Did they mention anything?" he asks suddenly. Tyler's reason for rushing home earlier sticks stubbornly to the inside of his skull.

"Did who mention anything?"

"You said they were talking about me on the radio. Did they mention anything else about the lead they were following?"

Sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, Tyler shakes his head. He seems equally unable to look away from the screen, but Josh can see the way he fidgets with his hands, and he knows he's not really taking the movie in, either.

"Not sure how smart it is of the police to announce that publicly," Tyler says. "That they're searching for you, I mean."

A sinking feeling begins somewhere in the back of Josh's throat, slipping down to the bottom of his stomach, where it settles like a stone thrown into a still lake. "It's probably not the police. Or, if it is, they're working with the facility."

"What makes you say that?"

"It was intentional." Josh's eyes take in the colors, the movements on the screen, but no more. "They were warning me."

Confusion tilts Tyler's tone to the side. "Why would they do that?"

Because they're playing with him, the way a cat plays with a mouse, making it think it can get away before crashing down on it again. They're so confident that they'll find him that they're sending him a message, reminding him. The cat is near.

"They want me to know this isn't over." Josh swallows. "I don't know if the lead is genuine, or if they're close, but if they are..."

"Hey." A gentle nudge from Tyler; when he doesn't react, Tyler taps his knee. "Look at me for a second."

Josh does.

"You're unpredictable. You can use that to your advantage." Tyler's eyes are dark, only the light from the TV reflected within. "If by some misfortune they find you here, you can morph and take off into the woods."

"I can't morph at will," Josh reminds him quietly.

Tyler concedes. His finger is still tapping on Josh's knee, like he's thinking. "Maybe not, but if I'm there, I'll morph first, and that should send you through it. I can slow them down while you get out."

Aching, Josh says, "I don't want you to be here when they come for me."

"Josh-"

"Tyler." He tries to meet Tyler's eyes evenly. "If you get between me and them, they'll kill you. If they find out you can morph... it would be worse. I can't let that happen."

He lifts his head, wanting to show Tyler how serious he is about this. Almost mirroring him, Tyler's head lowers, eyes drifting away even as he shuffles closer.

Josh doesn't really understand what's happening until he feels Tyler's breath on his neck. He's not touching him, just leaning into his space as far as he can, wanting closeness but not asking for it. In an instant, an itch crawls its way up Josh's spine, something instinctual that he doesn't have words for.

It's probably the beast's doing, but for the moment, he doesn't care. Slightly--almost minutely--he tilts his chin upward, and exhales a soft huff.

Needing no further prompting, Tyler moves in the rest of the way, face pressed into Josh's neck. He carefully curls his fingers into Josh's sweatshirt, breathing him in like pure oxygen. The itch stops, replaced by something soothing; Josh lets out a sigh of relief.

"If they want to get to you," Tyler says against his skin, soft and honest, "they have to get through me. Do you remember when I bared my throat for you?"

His heart is thudding traitorously in his chest. Answering, Josh says, "I remember doing the same for you."

"It's special," Tyler says. "It's more than a sign of trust. It's the way people like us bond. Me and you--we're linked. My morph and yours." Suddenly, he pulls his head back, looking into Josh's eyes. "You okay?"

Josh isn't sure what he's talking about until he realizes he was leaning back into the couch, fingers subconsciously pulling Tyler with him. He clears his throat. "Yeah. Sorry, yeah."

"It's okay." The movie is forgotten, unimportant in this moment; but Josh is grateful for it, all the same, because it lets him see the genuine care and tenderness in Tyler's face when he looks at him. "I just wanted to be sure."

They're barely touching, now, and the itch starts creeping back. "I'm- Yeah."

Tyler chews on the corner of his lip, not quite meeting his eyes. There's something he's not saying.

He's not saying it because he doesn't need to, because Josh knows without him voicing his thoughts. It's not mind reading, it's not guesswork, it's instinct. Intuition. He looks at Tyler and he just knows.

"You feel it too," Josh says. "When we're apart."

And Tyler looks hopeful. "Yeah," he says, "that's it. That's the bond. My morph and yours."

"Me and you," Josh echoes, his pulse in his ears. 

It doesn't feel like a mistake this time when Josh tightens his grip on Tyler's shirt to pull him back against him, when Tyler goes to him like a magnet to metal. This time, when they kiss, it's like a crooked puzzle piece, previously worried over, finally fits into place. A solution is found. A switch is flipped. 

Just like that.

Again, the itch disappears, except this time, it's replaced by something warmer, better than just comfort. It feels like finally lying down after a long day, like a breath of clean air after days spent indoors. Simple. Wonderful.

He should stop. But, he doesn't.

Josh hadn't forgotten how it felt to kiss Tyler before, but it's even better now. His mouth is so soft, his hands warm on Josh's cheeks; Tyler is warm. Josh wasn't cold before, at least he doesn't think so, but suddenly separation seems like slipping into ice water. It's inconceivable.

Neither of them goes far when their lips separate again, and it takes all of Josh's self control not to swallow Tyler's breaths. Instead, he offers up his own in the form of a few mumbled words. "Sorry. God."

They're too close to properly look into each other's eyes, but Josh can see the flicker of brown all the same, feel the flutter of Tyler's eyelashes on his cheek when he tilts his head just so. "Don't," Tyler says, soft. "Don't say you're sorry unless you don't mean it."

Don't say you're sorry unless this doesn't mean anything to you. Though unspoken, the plea is clear as water. This thing Josh feels for Tyler, nameless or otherwise: it's reciprocated. Tyler wants this. He wants it to mean something.

Slowly, the guilt trying to sneak its way between them is turned back. "Maybe I should be sorry," Josh admits against the corner of Tyler's mouth. "But I'm not."

He can feel the tension melting, not just from himself, but from Tyler. He goes nearly lax against Josh, pliable; his breath is a sigh on his face.

"Good," Tyler says, and his nose nudges against Josh's as he moves back in for what will be their second kiss of the evening. "Me, either."

Chapter Text

Josh isn't sure how it happens, but time seems to speed up and slow down all at once.

Kissing Tyler last night was surely a mistake, no matter how much he wanted it; no matter that it led here, to open-mouthed kisses on the living room couch. It was a misstep. Josh has spent the past months trying to stay balanced somewhere between friend and acquaintance, and he couldn't manage it forever. Last night, he lost his footing, fell from the wire, and Tyler was there to catch him.

Despite the fact that Josh is currently under him and not over him--Jesus--Tyler is, yet again, there to catch him. His body feels so right against Josh's, practically pressed together from head to toe. What Josh has come to realize is the bond between his morph and Tyler's own only strengthens the feeling.

He should feel trapped, here, vulnerable, and maybe to some extent, he does. But Tyler is vulnerable, too; he kisses Josh languidly, lets him clutch at his sides as fiercely or gently as he pleases. He gives, simply, what he has to give.

It's like an animal bearing its throat to another as a sign of trust, and of being trusted. It's different, too.

Josh nearly gasps when their mouths separate again, partly from a need for air and partly from the way his heart is palpitating in his chest, like finally getting Tyler to himself is too much. 

Tyler leans back a little further, this time, but never out of Josh's space, just enough to see his face properly. His pupils are blown wide, lips and cheeks pink. He's so beautiful Josh could cry.

"I mean it," Josh says. Instinctively, his grip on Tyler's waist tightens, reluctant to let him go far. "It's not just, like, physical." This makes his face feel hot, because it is an admittance to all sorts of feelings. Tyler makes him feel all sorts of ways.

He must be blushing, because Tyler is, too, and a grin splits his face wide open. "Yeah?"

Josh opens his mouth to answer--maybe apologize again, he has no idea--but Tyler dives back in, this time burying his face in Josh's neck and kissing there. It must be a favorite place of his, and he certainly treats it like one, mouth soft and open on his skin.

Again, the beast rears its head somewhere behind his skull, and Josh lifts his chin automatically to offer better access. This seems to please Tyler, who moves up to his jaw, then back down, tugging on the collar of Josh's sweatshirt to reach the base of his throat.

"Yeah," Josh breathes, feeling like his head's on fire in the best possible way. "Do you...?"

Tyler pauses his kissing, but doesn't pull back. "Yeah," he says, like it's easy. "Didn't want to push you, so I didn't say anything, but."

"But I kissed you first," Josh finishes. It's thrilling and terrifying to say aloud.

"You did," Tyler agrees; Josh can feel his smile. His voice is sweet in a way Josh hasn't quite heard before. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, after."

"Me either," Josh admits, and Tyler laughs. He'd say it relieves some of the tension, but he wouldn't exactly call it tension; it lessens the intensity from the heat of a flame to the softer warmth of a candle.

They stay there for a while, Josh on his back, and Tyler on top of him, using Josh's shoulder as a pillow, though neither of them sleep. The feeling of being close, of sharing space, is addicting. It always was; it just took Josh a while to understand why.

He's not sure the beast has ever been so content before. If he were in his other form, he thinks he'd be purring like a cat, rubbing his cheek on Tyler's and winding around him. Seeking attention.

It's kind of funny.

The movie has long since ended by the time Tyler gets up. Josh feels the loss immediately, startled by the sudden reappearance of an ache in his chest that he didn't know Tyler had been curing him of. He doesn't reach out, though, not wanting to seem clingy.

"It's late," Tyler says. "If we're not watching anything, we should go to bed, right?"

There's something so tentative, so hopeful in his voice. Without asking, Josh realizes he must be feeling the ache, too.

"Yeah," he agrees, despite the slight tremble in his hands, despite the voice in his head that says monsters don't deserve good things. He gets up, too.

It's eerily like last night, in the way it goes. Josh brushes his teeth, washes his face, and uses the toilet. He listens to Tyler get the dogs settled, and he passes him in the hall when he's done in the bathroom, letting Tyler have his turn.

He resists the urge to brush his shoulder against Tyler's as he passes. The gap is small, until it isn't, and somehow it's almost worse to nearly be touching Tyler. It's easier to fight when he's farther away.

Josh sits on the bed, pulse pounding in his ears, and finally asks himself why he's fighting it at all.

He's here. Tyler's here. He told himself not to get attached, but he did; Tyler got attached, too. No matter what he does, whether he stays or goes, there will be trouble. They'll be caught in the crossfire, torn apart, one way or another. Why struggle to conceal how he feels about Tyler? They're bonded; he has to know.

What Josh knows is that he can't let them take Tyler. What he doesn't know is how he's supposed to leave him.

"I have to," he whispers in the dark. Jim, laying on the floor, lifts his head at the sound of Josh's voice before settling back down. I have to, he tells himself, again, silently this time.

The bathroom door opens. Tyler steps into the bedroom, awash in the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand. He looks so much like last night, a night where Josh caved, and kissed him. How is he supposed to hold himself back, knowing what he does now? What is he supposed to do now that he knows Tyler wants him to kiss him?

Feeling defeated--feeling so much--Josh relents. The beast, a wordless thing, pushes on; he gets the sentiment. I can't.

It's hard to tell if Tyler can sense the turmoil Josh is going through. He moves slow, quiet, though not like he's afraid; more like this is a pivotal moment in who Josh is, and what he wants, and what they could be. And it is.

"Stupid," he says aloud, without really meaning to. 

Tyler moves closer, clicks off the lamp, but doesn't climb onto the bed yet. He looks even softer in the dim moonlight, drifting through the parted curtains. "What's stupid?"

He can't quite look Tyler in the eyes when he says it, but he does say it, quiet, only for Tyler to hear. "How much I need you."

The itch under his skin--the itch to be closer--is relentless, and when he hears Tyler's breath catch, it becomes too much to bear. For once, he and the beast want the exact same thing; Josh rises, on his knees on the edge of the bed, and takes Tyler's face in his hands, and kisses him like his life depends on it.

One moment, what feels like centuries ago, Josh's life did depend on Tyler. If he hadn't found him out there in the snow, running from something too terrible to talk about, he would've been lost at best, recaptured at worst. Cold, hungry, alone.

Josh is not cold now, nor alone. 

How could he be? Tyler is here, with him, immediately responsive, like he's been waiting since their last kiss, with bated breath, for another one. He curls his fingers into Josh's shirt, his sweatshirt set aside previously for sleep. His tongue is soft, sweeping sweetly over Josh's bottom lip before being drawn into his eager mouth.

They've been closer before, had intimate moments before; but those were times when Josh was hurt, or freezing, or distressed. Now, there is no such pain, and as he's kissing Tyler, Josh's anxieties almost seem to melt away. 

The bliss that's replaced the itch under his skin is wonderful. So wonderful that Josh doesn't realize he's moving until his back settles on the bed. Tyler is pulled along with him, hands still chaste, but there's a certain tremor to his grip that Josh is beginning to recognize.

A hand on Tyler's chest is all he has to do; Tyler ends the kiss immediately. "Sorry," he manages. They're both breathing hard.

"Don't say you're sorry unless you don't mean it," Josh says.

Tyler lets out a breathy laugh, soft; a beautiful sound. "I mean it. This." His hand is soft when he touches Josh's cheek. He rolls off of Josh to lay on his side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Josh shifts to his side, too, and yes, this is it. They're together, Josh with his back to the wall, facing Tyler, who's facing him in turn. They're equally vulnerable, visible.

Maybe for the first time, Josh wants Tyler to see him. Even the ugly parts.

"Wanted to see you," he admits, soft. 

Maybe it should be scary. Maybe Josh should be freaking out, considering his trouble with trust and touch. Josh's heart is racing, stomach twisting, but he's not freaked out. He's not afraid like he thinks he would've been a few months ago.

Josh isn't afraid because this is Tyler.

Josh isn't afraid because Tyler tilts his head just so, warmth in his eyes, as he says, "Can I kiss you again?"

He answers him by curling his fingers into Tyler's shirt, drawing him closer again, and leaning in. The scant seconds before they kiss is like a famine, an endless journey through barren land. And when their lips meet--when Tyler leans into him, hand over the scar on his thigh; when Josh sighs into his mouth--they are fed.

Chapter Text

To some miracle, perhaps, Josh still isn't afraid the next morning. 

Everything being clear--visible--in the dawn light does send a chill up his spine. He's in bed with Tyler, which is pretty normal for them, and they're tangled together, which is normal, too. It's the memory of the night before that thrills him, rising to the forefront of his mind the moment his eyes open.

The moment his eyes open, they settle on Tyler, so close, comfortably settled against Josh. His eyes are closed, his breaths even, giving no indication that he's awake; but there, on his face, Josh sees a contentment he's never quite noticed in Tyler before. His hair is messier than usual, lips pink, and there's an overall softness to him that is so beautiful it almost hurts.

Now that he knows what it's like to run his fingers through that hair and kiss those lips, how is he supposed to stop?

Josh knows he's still doomed, the way he knows the sky is blue and the night is long. He also knows Tyler will protect him, as much as he's able to.

He also knows he'll protect Tyler the same way, whatever that means he'll have to do.

But right now, the world is soft, and slow, and quiet. There's no immediate danger, even with the target on Josh's back. Right now, they're in still bed, and the dawn light is still dim, and Tyler is still asleep.

Josh can't go back to sleep; he knows that already. But at least if he's awake, he'll hear if they come for him, and he'll be able to protect Tyler while he rests.

With a slight sigh, he rests his head back on Tyler's arm. They're both on their sides, facing each other, much the same they were last night. Tyler's arm is draped around Josh's middle, while Josh's arms are curled up to his chest, in the warm space between them.

He'd like to curl his fingers into Tyler's shirt, but he doesn't want to wake him.

He does wake, eventually, but on his own. Josh knows because he can feel him shift at his side, hear the quiet, comfortable sigh he lets out as he nuzzles his head into Josh's hair.

And Josh still isn't afraid; not of Tyler. A bit embarrassed, maybe, at the desperation he was unable to conceal the night previous. Then again, Tyler matched it easily. Whatever the case, Josh nestles closer, telling himself his face is warm from the sunlight coming through the window, and not the lingering memory of Tyler's mouth on his.

Tyler doesn't say anything, just hums softly, contentedly. The sound, paired with the warmth and security of Tyler's body, makes for such a comfortable environment that Josh almost falls asleep again.

Eventually, though, Tyler stirs, more purposefully. When Josh lets out a muffled protest, arm wrapping around his waist, Tyler doesn't laugh. They make eye contact for the first time this morning, bright smile to pink cheeks.

"I have to go to work," Tyler says, a bit apologetic. His smile doesn't fade, though; only grows when he touches Josh's arm, rubs his hand up and down.

Josh knows he's right, but won't admit it. He lets his head rest on the pillow again, instead, eyeing Tyler's stubble; if they kissed now, would it feel scratchy on his cheek? He'd like to find out.

"Quit your job," he says, instead.

This time, Tyler laughs, hanging his head so that his chin nearly rests on his chest. His hand moves up to Josh's shoulder, then down his side to his hip before going back up and repeating the process once, twice more. "Don't tempt me."

It'd be easy to tempt him, Josh figures, considering he can't keep his hands to himself. He lays still, instead, closing his eyes and enjoying Tyler's soothing touch for a moment longer.

Admittedly, while some clothes were shed last night, they didn't get completely naked. He wanted them to be skin to skin, to try to see if Tyler could ease the pain of his scars with his touch (he could; each brush of his fingers felt like an eraser, making him clean). There was a lot of ground to cover, and Tyler was more than happy to comply to Josh's wishes, and it was only natural for it to finally escalate to something more sexually intimate.

Josh isn't sure who he's trying to justify his attraction to. 

Anyway, it was more than just getting off. It was a kind of offering, he thinks; letting Tyler see him, seeing Tyler in turn, metaphorically and literally. It was the last piece of vulnerability Josh could give--another way for him to bare his throat knowing Tyler wouldn't tear it out.

There was more than lust in Tyler's eyes when Josh had silently encouraged him. No, the predominant feeling last night, the emotion in Tyler's face; it was affection. Honesty. It was emotional need.

Though, there was plenty of physical need, too.

He should probably stop thinking about Tyler's hand down his pants.

Opening his eyes, he lightly grasps Tyler's wrist, stopping him, leaning up just as Tyler leans down. It's almost in slow motion as they get closer and closer, soft and slow and sweet like honey. God, Josh wants to feel Tyler's stubble on his skin, anywhere he can get it.

Before their mouths can meet in a kiss, however, the whole bed shakes, and a fluffy, golden shape wriggles its way between them. Josh jumps, then shoves Jim back as the dog happily licks his face, tail wagging a mile a minute.

"Jim!" Tyler pushes the dog back, but he doesn't go far, choosing to lay down at Josh's side.

"He's trying to tell you you're going to be late for work," Josh suggests, trying not to laugh at the pout on Tyler's face.

Tyler shrugs a little, reaching out to pet Jim's soft fur. "Guess he missed the part where I'm quitting."

"Tyler."

"I know." And he smiles again, scratches behind Jim's ears. Jim's tail wags against Josh's leg. "I know."

Eventually, Tyler does get up. Once he's in the shower, Josh lays back on the bed with a slight huff, staring at the ceiling and absently petting Jim. Ned has hopped up onto the bed, too, taking his usual seat on one of the pillows.

Josh is trapped. Not like he was at the facility, by any means. Here, he's trapped by his own circumstance--and his own decisions.

If he stays, they will come for him, and Tyler will get hurt. If he goes, they will come for him, and Tyler will get hurt. He knows which hurt is worse, which one will give him a heartache and which will make him bleed, but it's so hard.

It's hard to imagine himself anywhere else. It's hard for him to even think about leaving, whether or not Tyler is there to see him do it.

It's hard for him to take that step and just leave, no matter how much he tries to convince himself.

He'll have to take the plunge at some point. It's not whatever might be below that frightens him, nor whether or not he will survive the fall. What has Josh truly afraid is waiting to hit the bottom.

It's a little easier to put out of his mind when Tyler gets out of the shower, when they're sharing a space again. They eat breakfast together, though Josh's appetite starts to fade as Tyler eats quickly; he really will be late if he lingers. 

Maybe Tyler knows, because he goes to Josh after he's finished eating, after he's put his bowl in the sink. Josh's eyes slip closed when Tyler touches his shoulder, feather-light, skimming the curls at the back of his neck. It's tender.

"I'll be home at five," Tyler says, like he always does, but maybe it's a little softer this time. Maybe he knows Josh is still thinking about taking off, and maybe he doesn't, but he does know Josh well enough to see he's got something on his mind.

Josh sighs. "Okay."

Tyler pauses for just one more moment, as though thinking. Josh sees him dip his head, feels him press a kiss to the top of his head, nestled close, before pulling back and ruffling his hair with a beaming smile.

And despite the fear, the dread, Josh feels a smile on his own face. "Just go," he mumbles, suddenly shy under Tyler's warmth.

Tyler does as he's told, and Josh is left to close his eyes again, trying to memorize the feeling of Tyler's chaste kiss.

Chapter Text

It was inevitable. Josh knew it would be, tried to convince himself time and time again to leave in order to protect Tyler, but he was weak. His heart was weak, frightened as it was of the place he'd fled, desperate to cling to the one solid presence he'd found. Tyler was warm and safe, and to go out into the cold after finally accepting that warmth was unbearable.

It is inevitable. Josh knows this all the same.

Tyler is late.

Five o'clock comes, and he's not back from work yet. Josh doesn't worry much at first, figuring there's nothing necessarily wrong with him being late by a few minutes. There's plenty of reasonable explanations as to why he's not here yet; maybe his boss asked him to stay to help with something, or maybe there was road construction on the way home. Maybe he just lost track of time.

Josh does not lose track of the time. He almost wishes he could.

Five o'clock comes and goes, and Josh is anxious as the clock nears five thirty. He wishes he had some way to contact him. Tyler brings his cell phone with him to work, and there's no phone at the house, so he has no way of contacting Josh there, and Josh has no way of contacting him. It's not an ideal situation.

The only way to find Tyler, Josh knows, is to leave the house. The idea makes his stomach churn.

He stands up from his place on the couch, beginning to pace from the kitchen doorway to the front door. Back and forth he goes, trying to wear off some of his nervous energy, but it does little to comfort him. 

Six o'clock comes. There's no safe reason that Tyler would be this late coming home, not without letting him know before he'd left for work. Tyler always lets him know when he's going to be late. Tyler always comes home on time.

Gradually, Josh begins to realize that he's on the floor.

If Tyler is this late, something is preventing him from coming home. Maybe his car wouldn't start, or maybe he got hurt at work and had to go to the hospital. Blindly, Josh grasps for an explanation--any explanation--that isn't the one he fears most. Maybe Tyler got sick of him and he's avoiding him. Maybe he decided to get away from it all and he's on a plane to Miami right now. God, anything but this.

He doesn't know exactly when he sank to his knees, only that he has. Josh's arms are wrapped around his chest, hugging himself, his breaths rapid, his heartbeat out of place. Tyler needs to come home. Josh needs Tyler to come home.

It's too late.

The first tremor is sudden, sharp, starting at the base of his neck and rattling its way down his spine before moving down his arms and legs. Josh has to lean forward, on his hands and knees, teeth clenching as he realizes what's happening.

"Not now," Josh pleads, but the animal that is not Josh knows that Tyler is late--Tyler is missing--and it's digging in its heels.

He tries to formulate another plea, unsuccessfully; the beast is tearing at the seams that separate them, desperate to get out, out. The anxiety building in Josh's stomach over the past hour is now mixing with the pain rocketing through his body, enough to make him gag. His fingers clutch blindly at the carpet, eyes shut as tightly as he can.

And when Josh falls, the animal that is not Josh rises.

Slowly, of course. He'll never get used to it; morphing is like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him and making it hard for him to find it again. For a few painful moments, he crouches on the floor, trembling, trying to get his bearings.

Except Josh isn't the one in charge. The beast is awake, and despite his efforts, it's not letting him take the wheel.

After a few minutes, a soft noise on the other side of the room draws the beast's attention, and it opens its eyes at last. Jim is there--Josh still recognizes him, tries to relay this information to the beast--but it already knows. 

Jim whines again.

Struggling, the beast gets to its paws, shakes out its coat vigorously, as if trying to shake off Josh's frantic attempts to grab control. He has no idea what it will do to Jim or the other dogs, and the thought of hurting them is unbearable.

Josh's morph is cautious as it lifts its head, eyes Jim warily from where it stands on the edge of the living room. Jim whines again, but his tail is wagging; low and nervous. He's being careful, too.

The dogs are not Tyler, and apparently, are no more than an obstacle to finding him. The beast slinks along the edge of the room and down the hall, giving the dogs a wide birth and moving for the front door. It isn't concerning itself with minor obstacles right now. It needs to find Tyler.

The door is locked, but that's not much of an obstacle, either; the animal that is not Josh has always been strong, almost frighteningly so, and it takes only a few slams of its body against the door for the lock to snap. It tumbles out into the snow, briefly dizzy.

The sound of pawsteps startles the beast, and it whips around to see Tyler's dogs darting out the front door, Jim in the lead. They stop when it bares its teeth, but they make no move to run away or go back inside; instead, they seem to be waiting.

Oh.

When Tyler morphed without Josh, his pack would follow him. Tyler's not here now, but Josh--at least, his morph--is.

A slight breeze is drifting through the cold air, making its pelt tingle. It lifts its broad head, sniffing for a moment. If it could just...

There. Pine, snowstorms, wet dog. Tyler.

With no further hesitation, the beast bolts in the direction of the stale scent, the scent of Tyler. Tyler's dogs aren't far behind.

It's... different, to run with the dogs. With Tyler, it was quieter, more intimate; likely because it was only the two of them, and because of the fondness Josh harbored for him. Maybe it's just the urgency of the situation, but here, with the dogs, Josh's morph is pumped full of adrenaline.

The sun has gone down, leaving the forest swathed in darkness as the beast races down the driveway, along the road, following Tyler's scent. Its senses are on high alert, ears sharp for any sound, eyes sharp for any threat, but there aren't any vehicles on the road tonight.

The dogs follow him as best they can, with Josh's morph far faster than they are. It doesn't matter in the end, though.

Tyler's car is hardly a mile away, tucked against the shoulder of the road and dusted with snow.

The beast knows, from the moment it gets close, that Tyler isn't inside. Still, it means something, and it gives it an idea of what might have happened. Sniffing carefully, the beast circles the car.

It's not damaged, so Tyler probably didn't get in an accident. The doors are closed, and the interior of the car appears neat enough, so no signs of a struggle. The scent is stale; Tyler probably hasn't been here for a while. He didn't even make it to work.

He didn't even make it to work.

The beast whines.

The beast whines, nudging the car as if it will tell it where Tyler went. Again, again. Tyler's not here.

Tyler's not here.

Suddenly, a dim light glows in the passenger seat, and the beast starts before calling on Josh's knowledge of Tyler and human behavior to understand what it's looking at. Tyler's not here, but his cell phone is.

It must leave scratches on the door--Josh will feel guilty about this later--but it manages to pry it open without completely smashing it. Luckily, it's unlocked.

The animal that is not Josh can't use a cell phone, nor would it know what to do with it if it could. But it knows Josh can.

All at once, Josh's attempts to regain control get through. It's like his morph gives up; it goes slack, sinking into the snow, letting go of the wheel so Josh can take over. The cold doesn't ease the pain, and the animal cries out, slowly turning to a more human sound as Josh emerges from its ashes.

The beast leaves him cold and naked in the snow.

There's a warmth at his side, though, supporting him; the dogs have caught up, and Jim is leaning into Josh, lending him his warmth and licking his knee. With unsteady hands, Josh pets Jim's soft fur, curls his fingers into it, seeking purchase.

As soon as he's able to move, Josh scrambles into the car. Again, a stroke of luck; there's a blanket in the back seat. He wraps himself up in it, shuddering with a mix of cold and the lingering pain.

Tyler was the lead they promised they were following. They weren't just warning him that they were coming, they were telling him. It was a threat. It was a promise. It said, You have been bad, and we will take your toy away from you until you're ready to behave. Josh wants to throw up.

Tyler's phone is in his hand.

His most recent text is from his brother. bringing ur snowblower back tmrw, Zack says. Josh remembers when he borrowed it, but it feels like years ago.

With shaky fingers, Josh types a text.

can you feed the dogs for a couple days

Three little dots pop up.

sure what's up?

Josh bites his lip, glances at the dogs, swarming the car, sniffing all over the place as if they're still hoping they can find Tyler here.

On the one hand, he could crack, explaining everything. Zack is Tyler's brother; Tyler seems to trust him, and while Josh doesn't trust Zack, he does trust Tyler. If he asked Zack for help, he's pretty sure he'd follow through. At least, he'd do what he could to get free Tyler.

But Josh has already dragged Tyler into this mess, let the facility get their hands on him; he doesn't even want to think about what they might be doing to Tyler behind chain link fences and reinforced walls. This was never about Tyler, not to the people at the facility. Taking Tyler is a means to an end. They want Josh, not him.

If Josh goes alone, they might let Tyler go.

something just came up

Chapter Text

It might be the hardest thing he's ever done.

First, Josh goes home, wrapped in the blanket from Tyler's car. It's kind of a mess, but he manages to get the dogs in the car, too, and he drives it the mile or so back to Tyler's house. It's the first time he's been behind the wheel--or even in a moving vehicle--for a year. Fortunately enough, a mile doesn't contain enough time for him to mess up.

He parks the car outside, gets the dogs in the house, and gets in the shower. He's not even really sure why he does it; he showered already today, and while the beast cares little about what dirt or grime it might get into, he's relatively unscathed. At least, in terms of cleanliness.

It's his fault. He knows Tyler might try to convince him otherwise, if he were here, but he's not, and Josh knows.

If he hadn't come here in the first place, Tyler would be living his happy little life with his house and his job and his dogs, no extra troubles in the mix. If Josh had just left when he should have, Tyler would be a little sad, sure, but he'd get over it. He'd still be here, and he'd still be safe.

But Josh had to go and get selfish. He fell for Tyler, harder than he'd thought he could, and he'd found companionship here that he knows he'd never find anywhere else, because Tyler can morph. It's not the same way Josh can, he knows that, but Tyler can morph. Tyler is an animal, too. Animals seek out others of their kind.

The difference here is that Josh is an animal born in captivity, and Tyler is not. Tyler is beautiful, wild-born, cunning and brave. Josh isn't.

If he were braver, maybe he would have left a long time ago.

What kind of wreck has he gotten Tyler into?

Josh thinks he's a wreck, too. Josh is Tyler's car, left still and empty on the side of the road, unblemished but broken. Josh is Tyler's car drowning in snow, slowly going cold.

Or maybe that's the water in the shower. Josh only stirs when he notices the temperature drop, lifts his head from where it was resting on his knees. How long has he been crouched here?

A faint scratching comes from outside the bathroom door, followed by a whine that he knows must belong to Jim.

"Okay," Josh whispers to himself, shivers sending goosebumps down his arms. With a shaky hand, he shuts off the water and manages to get to his feet; his legs are asleep, and he has to stand there for a few minutes so he can get his bearings.

Josh grabs a towel from off the rack and wraps it around himself before staggering to the door. Almost immediately, the dogs swarm around him, not suffocating, but supporting. It's not just Jim, either; Ned licks Josh's ankle, Rusty paces around him, and Bella sniffs the edge of his towel.

"Okay," he says again, a little louder this time. He steps forward again, another wave washing over him. Gradually, Josh comes to realize that it's exhaustion.

There's nothing he wants more than to find Tyler, but in his post-morph state, it's all he can do to stumble towards the bed and promptly pass out on top of the sheets. He's too exhausted for anything, dreams or nightmares. He just sleeps.

It's early when he finally wakes again. He's alone, and for a moment, blinded by drowsiness, Josh reaches out for a body that isn't there.

And then he remembers.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Tyler's gone. Tyler's gone, and it's his fault. He's in danger, and Josh is just laying here, in Tyler's bed, in Tyler's house, doing nothing. Not only did he let them take Tyler, he hasn't even done anything about it. How can he just leave him there like this, even for a moment?

Josh doesn't realize he's crying until the bed shakes. Jim has jumped up, and he immediately starts licking Josh's arm, his hand, his face; Josh's sobs come out like hiccups, making him tremble.

He can't stop seeing Tyler in the space he himself once occupied: isolated in a windowless room, forced to morph one way or another. Bruised, bleeding, pleading for a mercy that doesn't seem to exist in the hearts of the men that created him. Even if they don't know he can morph, they'll probably do something terrible to him to get him to tell them where Josh is.

Tyler was the one good thing he had in his life, and he fucked it up.

There's only one thing left for Josh to do. He has to fix this.

It takes him a while to stop crying, the absence of Tyler, the worry over what the researchers might be doing to him, and the hopelessness of the situation all getting to him. Jim just keeps licking him, trying to distract him and cheer him up, but this just isn't a panic he can comfort Josh down from.

Eventually, he runs out of tears, wiping his face with the towel he's still half draped in. Josh can't let himself break like this. He has to save Tyler.

Whatever it takes.

He dresses in some of the clothes Tyler's been lending him, feeds the dogs, makes sure they have plenty of water and they've all done their business outside. They must know something's seriously wrong, because none of them go racing towards their food bowls to eat. They follow Josh around, instead, keeping a comfortable distance, but not letting him out of their sights.

There's no way they know what he's going to do. And yet, the look in Jim's big brown eyes is almost pleading.

Josh has to crouch to say goodbye to them. He doubts he'll see them again, and it's a painful goodbye; the dogs swarm him, licking and wagging their tails and butting their heads against him. He doesn't want to cry again, but his eyes don't seem to get the memo, and he has to keep wiping them away with his sleeve.

"You'll be alright," Josh sniffs, rubbing Ned's ears. The little terrier keeps trying to climb into his lap. "Zack will take care of you until- Tyler gets home."

The dogs seem to perk up a bit at the mention of their owner, ears sharpening and tails wagging harder. It hurts to know how far away Tyler is right now; it hurts to know that the dogs have no idea how much danger he's really in.

Josh wipes his face with his sleeve one last time and gets to his feet. "I'll bring him home," he says, confirmation, though he's not at all confident about it. Even if everything goes right, he knows he probably won't be leaving the facility again. He doesn't know if he can even get Tyler out of there, but fuck, he has to try.

None of the dogs seem to want him to leave, however. Jim in particular is relentless, whining and trying to squeeze through the front door after him. Josh has to stop, his foot in the door, petting Jim through the crack. Jim licks his hand.

"I'm sorry," Josh manages. "You'll be alright, okay? You're alright." He can't afford to break again, not now.

He gets in Tyler's car and shuts the door, putting the keys in the ignition. He doesn't have a map, exactly, but he has a guide, reluctant as it is.

It takes all Josh has not to turn back when he hears Jim whining and crying from inside the house.

Chapter Text

The animal that is not Josh is terrified.

It hides away in the back of his mind, whimpering, as far from the world outside of him as it can get. Josh doesn't blame it; he's scared, too. He's so scared.

He uses the beast as a guide. Though he doesn't remember the path he took from the facility that wound up with him in Tyler's woods, the beast knows where it came from without a map. It knows where it was born, innately, so much so that Josh wonders if the researchers intended it to be this way.

It makes him want to throw up. 

He has to pull the car over, once, because he's dizzy with anxiety and can't feel his hands on the wheel and he can't afford to crash. He sits on the bumper, head between his knees, forcing air into his lungs and back out again.

Tyler.

Josh keeps driving.

He knows he's getting closer when his hands start shaking, when his entire body seems to riot in a last-ditch attempt to drive him away from the facility. This time, when Josh pulls over, he does throw up; or at least, he heaves. Nothing comes up. It's an invisible illness, or a hand wrapped around his neck, choking him.

Eventually, he can't drive anymore, and he pulls the car over in a turnout. The road out here is quiet, and he doubts Tyler's car will be disturbed; especially if this is the road he thinks it is.

It is.

Josh walks. The gravel crunches under his shoes, and he shoves his hands tightly into the pocket of his sweatshirt--Tyler's sweatshirt. All his clothes are Tyler's, but this one, this sweatshirt, is one that Tyler usually wears on himself. It smells like him. 

If he's dead, Josh will never forgive himself. His hands clench into fists; he keeps walking.

And there it is, that chain-link fence that separates him from his doom. He remembers leaping over it in his escape with ease, as most of the security measures were centered around his cell and not the building itself. 

It's relatively inconspicuous: there's a parking lot, and a large building without windows. Clinton County Center for Wastewater Treatment, the sign outside lies. Josh recognizes the logo, next to what's probably the county seal. Just the sight of it makes him want to turn back. It's a three-pronged fork, slightly twisted, simplified.

There aren't even any guards out front. No one's here to stop him from bolting back to Tyler's car. 

There's no guards, but there is a gate. A little intercom patiently waits before him.

Tyler.

Josh swallows and presses the button.

The intercom crackles, and a tinny voice comes through. "Identification, please."

For what must be mere seconds but feels like hours, Josh can't speak. Finally, he manages. "It's- I'm here." He doesn't state his name or his business here; he doesn't have to. "I'm here."

A brief silence. "Pardon?"

"I'm back." Josh swallows. "Or were you just pretending to look for me?"

The intercom just crackles again, background static. Other than that, there's no further response.

Josh doesn't have to wait long.

He hears the dogs barking first. This isn't Jim and Ned and Bella; this is German shepherds with snapping jaws, held back by men in combat boots and bulletproof vests. Others in tactical gear emerge, rifles with lasers glinting like fireflies, trained on Josh's head, chest, throat. The gate is opened; he's surrounded in an instant by a little army, shouting orders.

"DOWN ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! DON'T FUCKING MOVE!"

Josh's entire body trembles, but he doesn't react otherwise. The beast has wedged itself so deep into the back of his mind that he can barely feel it, and there's no way it's coming out now. Not that he intended for it to.

"Take me to him," Josh spits, surprising himself with how fierce his voice sounds, far braver than he feels. He curls his fingers into his hair as he sinks to his knees. "Take me."

They don't seem to know what to do with him. He's never been anything like this; even when despair clung to him like mold, he fought. He doesn't know if it was something to do with the animal inside of him, or his own desperation, but he always fought. Tooth and nail, punching and kicking, resisting. It took many men to hold him down.

Josh has never made demands. Josh has never asked to be taken away.

For what feels like several minutes, Josh stands there, more or less defenseless, waiting for a response. The German shepherds are on chains, growling and barking, but Josh can see the fear in their wide eyes. They have no way of knowing why Josh is the way that he is; they just know something about him is wrong at his very core.

Eventually, the barrel of a gun is pressed to his forehead, and his hands are zip-tied behind his back. Even as he's led through the fence, towards the building, no one will speak to him, but his sensitive hearing is able to pick up a few words, slipped between the soldiers like a note being passed in class.

The lead, one of them says. Must be, says another.

He's so set on eavesdropping that the clang of the gate shutting makes his ears ring.

Chapter Text

Josh's cell, if it can be called that, appears to be the same as it was when he left. It's a plain white room with solid concrete floors and fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling above; Josh hated those lights before, and now they make him flinch. There's a cot in one corner, fastened to the floor, with a blanket and a pillow, and a toilet against the opposite wall.

Home sweet home, right? 

He used to spend hours huddled in that corner, perched on that cot, trying not to collapse in on himself. Josh knows why he's here again, and he hasn't forgotten his goal of freeing Tyler, but the sight of the cot nearly strips him down to the bone, all in one fell swoop.

He's been as compliant as he can be, all things considered, but upon seeing in person the place he was contained for over a year, he begins to break.

It doesn't matter, though. The soldiers escorting him slip a blade under the zip ties, and with one final shove, they break free. Josh, on the other hand, stumbles into the room; before he can so much as turn to look, the reinforced door has been slammed shut behind him. He hears the locks click.

Then, only the frantic pounding of Josh's heart, echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

He has to collect himself, all the bits and pieces blown apart by a field of landmines he's willingly walked into. It hurts to move, but Josh is able to sit down on the edge of the cot and put his head between his knees, eyes squeezing shut. He tries to remember when he did this back home.

Home. Tyler's house. Was it Josh's home, in the time he spent there? He doesn't know. He probably won't get the chance to figure it out.

If he breathes through his nose, if he stays very still, Josh thinks he can pretend Tyler is there. He imagines him, his soft fingers carding through, soothing, patiently waiting and keeping him grounded until he could come back to him. The problem with this, obviously, is that Tyler isn't here.

Not in this room. Somewhere in this building, though; he has to be. They've only had him for... what, twenty four hours now?

That's twenty four too many. Josh makes a noise in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening in his hair. 

As if on cue, the loudspeaker crackles in the corner of Josh's room. They have mics everywhere; he learned that quickly when he first came here. They're always watching, always listening, always recording what they observe for their research. Usually, they use it to monitor him. Sometimes they use it to talk to him, or to try to. Rare were the times when Josh would listen to what they had to say.

But that was then, and this is now. As much as the voice coming through the speaker sickens him, Josh doesn't try to drown it out.

WELCOME BACK, the voice says. It's the same speaker as it always was; he doesn't know any names, just this voice. IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU HERE AGAIN. YOU HAD US WORRIED.

"Go to hell," Josh murmurs under his breath, not caring if they hear him or not. He's trying to work up the nerve to lift his head, but the thought makes him dizzy.

WE WERE LOOKING FOR YOU, the voice continues softly, as though trying to soothe him. It has the opposite effect. WE KNEW WE'D FIND YOU EVENTUALLY, BUT EVEN I ADMIT, WE HADN'T EXPECTED TO SEE YOU RETURN ON YOUR OWN ACCORD.

It WASN'T on his own, and they know that now. A few months ago, Josh would rather have been shot than come back here; they must know something has changed. 

"I want to see him," Josh rasps to the space between his knees.

I'M SORRY, THE MIC DIDN'T QUITE CATCH THAT.

He lifts his head at last, fingers disentangling from his hair as he sits up so fast his vision swims. For a few seconds, the nausea is so overpowering that he seriously thinks he might throw up. "I want to see him!"

A brief silence from the speaker. I'M NOT SURE I UNDERSTAND.

"You know what I'm fucking talking about," he spits. Fury and fear are waging a war in his chest, each desperately trying to gore the other for control of his body. "I came back, you got me. Just let me see him." His voice cracks.

There's another silence. Josh can only assume the researchers are discussing what to do behind their screens and computers, watching him, analyzing his reactions. 

WE SEE NO REASON TO REWARD YOU AFTER YOU HAVE MISBEHAVED-

Josh interrupts. "I'll do it."

DO WHAT, EXACTLY?

"I'll..." He swallows. "I'll behave. I won't fight anymore."

It's not much, but it's going to have to be enough. He knows his opposition to the experiments has slowed them down, driven the researchers to frustration and even anger. He is the only living subject they have, and he's been fighting tooth and nail. Cooperation is what they would prefer from him. He has so little to bargain with, but he knows what they want, and he knows what he has.

If he can just get Tyler out of here--protect him, as he protected Josh--it'll be worthwhile.

Again, the researchers are quiet. He hates this part, these moments where their motives and movements are blind to him. At best, he can hear them murmuring amongst themselves, but no words come through clear enough for him to steel himself for whatever they'll say next.

Finally, the answer comes. WE EXPECT YOU WILL HOLD YOUR END OF THIS BARGAIN. RASH PROMISES ARE STILL PROMISES, MR DUN. THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE HIGH IF YOU FAIL.

They only call him that when they're trying to appeal to his humanity; they only pretend he's human when they feel like it. When they want something from him.

Slower this time, Josh lowers his head, covering his eyes with his hands, rubbing until he sees stars behind his eyelids. "I know," he mutters.

Nothing more comes from the speaker.

All that's left for Josh to do is wait.

Chapter Text

He jumps when the lock on the door clicks. 

Before Josh can get to his feet, however, an order is shouted from behind it, more like a soldier than a scientist: STAY SEATED! DON'T MOVE!

But he needs to stand, to rush to the door, because he knows Tyler must be somewhere behind it. His hands clutch tight at the edge of the cot, instead, and he remains seated.

Four soldiers enter, no more and no less; the usual amount to restrain him. Like before, his wrists are bound, this time with metal cuffs that are cold on his skin. One of the soldiers grabs him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. "Get a move on," he says gruffly.

Josh does what he's told. There's more soldiers in the hallway, two in front and two behind, each with rifles, though they aren't pointed at him right this minute. The threat remains.

He feels like a criminal. No, lower; like an animal. Hauled around like some sort of feral, rabid thing that might snap at any moment. Josh's head hangs low, and he avoids looking at anything other than the floor under his feet.

Tyler is nowhere to be found.

They're moving him to another cell; he's almost sluggish as they drag him inside, overwhelmed with fear, exhaustion, and dread. He's made to kneel in the center of the room, and he can feel the barrel of a gun on the back of his skull.

Everything is still.

The guards are waiting for something, some order that Josh probably won't hear. He lifts his eyes as he waits, too, for whatever will come next.

This room is much like his regular one, with one key difference. Where one of the empty walls normally would be, a thick slab of glass is in its place. On the opposite side, he can see another room much like this one, though no furniture is present. Instead, a single metal loop sits in the center of the floor. It looks sturdy, but not quite so as the stuff they normally use on him.

Seconds pass. Then minutes.

Josh knows Tyler's near without hearing him, without smelling him or seeing him or anything along those lines. Josh knows Tyler's near by the way every instinct in the back of his throat goes haywire, the way the animal that is not Josh yanks hard on the boundary between them, scrabbling, frantic. His whole body jolts.

DON'T MOVE! a soldier shouts, the barrel is pressed harder to his head. Josh gasps, silent, but the beast isn't trying to get out. It's trying to tell him something. 

In the corner of the room, the speaker crackles to life.

COMMENCING EXPERIMENT 48-7-A. AT THE READY, SERGEANT.

Josh feels the cuffs on his wrists being jostled. A soldier's voice comes to him, dangerous, near his ear. "If you move before I say, I'll shoot you both."

Both, both, both. Josh doesn't respond; they don't want him to. He doesn't want to.

He can hear footsteps, not just behind him, but in front of him, and then, and then--

Josh feels like a spike has been gored straight into his heart when he sees the door to the opposite room swing open, and yes; yes. He's here. A slight body is shoved through the doorway from a standing position, practically tossed like a sack of potatoes, forced to kneel as Josh is kneeling now.

Tyler's arms are held by his sides, and his knees hit the floor with a painful thud. Wrenching his hands forward, two guards use zip ties to fasten his wrists to the metal loop, keeping him from standing back up.

For six painful seconds, Josh stares straight ahead, silent, still as stone, as the cuffs on his own wrists are loosened.

The guards leave Tyler where he is, slamming the door shut behind him. Josh thinks he can hear his own door being shut, too, but it doesn't matter, because a soldier whistles, sharp and clear and echoing, and that's it. That's his cue.

Josh tears the unlocked cuffs away. He's at the glass in an instant, hands pressed there, wanting to sink them in like claws, tear it away. He wants to tear away anything keeping Tyler trapped here like this.

Like he's an animal, too.

Tyler's looking at him. He's familiar, but it feels sick, ALIEN, to see him here, to see something so good in a place so awful. He's still dressed for work: a plain t-shirt and work pants adorn his body, but they look almost ragged to Josh's weary eyes.

His face is bruised just below his jaw, and he's sporting a pretty notable black eye. There's a scratch on the bridge of his nose, too, messy, like he tried to wipe it away but couldn't.

Despite all of this, Tyler offers Josh a smile, small and sad.

"Hi."

There are a million things Josh could say, but they all fall apart on his tongue. Tyler never would've been here without him. Without Josh, he'd be home, with his dogs, eating dinner and going to bed, safe. Intentional or not, Josh has finally dragged him into his world.

"I- I'm sorry," he manages, holding back tears threatening to rise; he knows the cameras are on. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault."

Josh shakes his head fervently. His hands are trembling on the glass.

"Hey." Tyler shifts, as if trying to come closer, but the zip ties have him pretty securely fastened where he is. "Hey, c'mon, look at me."

Josh does.

It hurts to see what has been done to him. Tyler is bruised, beaten, trapped. He's here, in this place that made Josh the animal that he is, where he told himself he'd never return. And yet, he has.

"You weren't supposed to follow me," Tyler says at last.

"You weren't supposed to get caught up in this," Josh answers brokenly.

AND YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BACK OUT, rattles the speaker, making the hairs on the back of Josh's neck stand on end. IT'S NO ONE'S FAULT BUT YOUR OWN.

Tyler is still restrained, but the sudden fury in his eyes is so sharp that it nearly startles Josh. He yanks on the zip ties, wrists straining as he raises his voice for the mic to hear. 

Even here, Tyler is fiercely protective, defiant, alive. Even here, he is beautiful. Josh aches.

"Don't fucking talk to him like that," Tyler spits.

MR. JOSEPH! The voice sounds almost delighted. GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU AT LAST. TERRIBLY SORRY ABOUT YOUR FACE.

"Your faux military men sure weren't sorry about it."

WE GAVE YOU PLENTY OF OPPORTUNITIES TO WORK WITH US, the voice dismisses. BUT I SUPPOSE IT DIDN'T MATTER IN THE END WHETHER YOU TALKED OR NOT. IT'S BACK WHERE IT BELONGS NOW, AND WE HAVE WORK TO DO.

Those last few words send a shudder through Josh's body. 

SPEAKING OF, MR DUN. I BELIEVE YOU MADE A CERTAIN PROMISE EARLIER. WE HAVE FULFILLED OUR HALF, BUT YOU HAVE YET TO COME THROUGH ON YOUR SIDE.

On Josh's side of the glass, his fingers curl, hands clenching into fists. On the other side, Tyler looks to Josh, worry splintering his words. "You- what?"

Josh doesn't answer.

CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY THAT WE'RE GOING EASY ON YOU AFTER YOU RAN OFF, the voice says. NO TESTS TODAY, AT LEAST NOT THE USUAL KIND. YOU ONLY HAVE ONE TASK.

"What did you promise them?" Tyler's eyes are wide and pleading. "Josh, what did you do?"

WE WON'T PUSH YOU THIS TIME, BUT YOU'LL FIND IT ESSENTIAL THAT YOU COOPERATE.

The threat is thinly veiled, but Josh can read it well from all the time he's spent here, from all the ways they've carefully chosen their words, each time trying to appear polite and professional.

Do what you're told or you'll regret  it, the speaker does not say.

Josh swallows, the words stuck in his throat. He nods once.

SHOW US WHO YOU REALLY ARE. NO EXCUSES, NO LIES. UPHOLD YOUR END OF THE BARGAIN.

Chapter Text

His heart pounds in his chest, thudding at an almost painful pace. Josh knows what they're asking of him, a task that's impossible despite their claims at the contrary. They never believed him when he said it was out of his control, and even after all this time, all his obvious tells and verbal pleas, they still think he's lying.

Josh has never been able to morph at will.

The only reason he's morphed at all over the past few months is on the other side of reinforced glass, staring at him with dark eyes.

Desperation sets in fast. Josh's hands are shaking, his breaths uneven as he crouches on the concrete floor. "I can't," he says quietly.

YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES, the speaker crackles. STARTING NOW.

The deadline alone makes his tremors worse, coming in waves; Josh has to make a conscious effort to keep his teeth from chattering. The beast, still backed into a corner of his head, whimpers as it tries to shrink itself down, as if it can become so small as to not be noticed.

"What are they talking about?" Tyler's voice cuts through the panic, reminding Josh that he's not alone in this. Would it be better if he were?

He clears his throat, loosening his clenched fists in an attempt to calm down. "They want me to..."

He doesn't want to say that word; morph. It means something different to him than it did when Tyler first said it, advising him not to do so while he was still injured. Now, morphing is a quiet, sacred thing between them, the only term unique to them.

It's the only thing Josh has left that the researchers haven't tainted. He has to hold onto it.

"I can't," Josh repeats, almost pleading. "You know I can't. I can't control it like that. But if I don't..."

"Josh." Tyler's voice is low, speaking to him alone, even though he knows the mics can probably pick it up anyway. "You don't have to. It's okay."

"No!" Josh clenches his fists again, pressing them into his knees. "They'll- I don't know what they'll do." To you, he doesn't say, but Tyler must know it.

CLOCK'S TICKING, the speaker chirps.

Josh wants to cry. "I can't," he says. "I have to. Please, I-"

"Hey," Tyler says softly, too soft for the grim situation they're in. "Josh, hey. Listen to me, okay?"

He's hyperventilating, he thinks. His lungs are a plastic bag full of holes. "I can't."

"Close your eyes."

Despite it all, Josh does. He knows he's still in the facility, no matter that he can't see it: he can pick up its sounds and its smells. The tension in his body is too tightly wound for him to be anywhere else.

"You've done it before," Tyler says, a light in the dark. "Remember?"

His head is spinning. "Not like this," Josh croaks.

"Just remember it," Tyler urges quietly. "What triggered it for you? What did you see?"

Josh doesn't dare answer, lest he give Tyler away, because what he saw in those moments was Tyler. The noises he made when he began to morph, the sound of his body readjusting and realigning; the scent of pine and snowstorms and wet dog that has always been under the surface of his skin, waiting patiently to be let out when Tyler allowed it.

Josh isn't Tyler. Josh's body doesn't realign, it breaks, and a mess is made of whatever is left. Josh's beast is a terrified animal, ready to lunge and lash out at anything that gets too close.

But he remembers it.

He remembers morphing with Tyler on the back porch and in the garage. He remembers how it felt before, during, and after; especially after, when Tyler was there beside him, nudging his shoulder with his nose, a soft whine in the back of his throat. He remembers racing through the forest with him, play-fighting and trusting one another in ways that have no human equivalent.

Josh remembers how hard that trust was for him to find. Josh remembers Tyler sitting at his bedside with medicine for his pain and a slight smile on his face; a map to guide him to it.

Josh can't feel his body.

He can't feel his body until he does, abruptly, pain rocketing through him from head to toe, and he staggers. It's so sharp that his breath halts in his chest, his muscles seizing as they try to support him.

"Come on," comes Tyler's voice, still gentle through it all. "Come on, Josh."

The next shudder to wash over him is white-hot, burning, searing his skin, and he screams through clenched teeth, fingers clutching so tightly to his hair that he thinks he's going to pull it out. It hurts so bad, more than it ever has before, but he needs to do this.

Josh can't; he does.

The waves don't stop, closer and closer together, trying to drag him under. Though he knows it can't be, Josh feels as though every atom in his body is being split open, rearranged and smashed back together haphazardly. He's shifting, morphing, down to a molecular level.

It must be an awful sight, if the distant, frightened chatter of the researchers means anything, but Tyler is steady and calm when it reaches Josh's ears. "Come on, Josh. Shhhh, almost there. It's okay."

With a final snap, the last piece slips into place. Feeling as though fire is burning him alive, flames licking at his skin, Josh staggers to his feet--to his paws--stumbling on weak and wobbly legs.

The animal that is not Josh has returned home.

Not of its own volition, for sure. It doesn't want to be here any more than Josh does; hence the pain. The pain Josh is used to is usually due to him fighting to keep it down, not trying to force it to the surface. He feels betrayed, torn in half, pushed to the edge. Slain by his own sword.

WELL DONE, rattles the speaker, though there's no emotion to it. WITH FIFTEEN SECONDS LEFT, NO LESS.

If Josh were to laugh in this shape, what would it sound like? A hiss, a scream? Maybe something more like a hyena, high and crackling, unnerving in its human similarities. 

The animal that is not Josh hears the blank voice of the speaker, of the researchers that have tortured it so, and its head rattles. Something sharp and sudden seizes it, a desire to flee, to hide, to run to--

MR JOSEPH, YOUR PART IN OUR BARGAIN IS COMPLETE. THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU WILL HAVE TO BE REMOVED FOR DISPOSAL. AGAIN, TERRIBLY SORRY ABOUT--

An animal driven by emotion, be it fury, fear, or panic, is the most dangerous animal of all. In this moment, Josh is all three.

The first assault against the glass is hard, heavy, and the beast's bares its teeth in silent pain, staggering back before rearing forward again. The second assault doesn't break the glass, either, but Josh can feel it quiver under his strength.

Chaos splutters through the speakers, echoing in Josh's head alongside the slam of his body against the glass. SHOOT IT! someone shouts, a soldier. NO! comes multiple voices, most of them the researchers; they need to keep their experiment alive. One frightened protest, ringing in Josh's ears, is from Tyler, and it spurs him onward.

The third assault on the glass makes his vision spin. He stumbles, head bowed, a snarl curling his lip as he hurls his entire body weight against the glass again, again.

Through the pain and the shouts, Josh can still pick up two things. The first is the sound of the glass as it begins to crack. The second is Tyler's voice, calling something he can't quite make out over the rest of the noise.

The sixth assault is the last. The reinforced glass finally shatters under the unrelenting pressure of a desperate, 400 pound wild animal. 

There's glass in his fur, his skin, but it doesn't matter. Limping, the beast stumbles forward, to Tyler, and finally sinks to the floor, curling itself around him securely. It won't let anyone touch him. It won't let anyone so much as look.

Josh only feels a shred of humanity with Tyler's face pressed into his fur.

Chapter Text

Time here is a lame animal, dragging itself over the forest floor. Josh doesn't know how long he stays there, curled around Tyler, protecting him.

Pain continues to make itself known in his body, fluctuating from a pounding ache to a sharp arc, like small lightning strikes. Some of it is surface level, some at the very root of his bones; he doesn't know if it's from morphing or breaking the glass. Probably both.

Eventually, he feels Tyler shift against his side, and Josh shifts, too. A whine of pain creeps its way up his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, wanting nothing more than to lay here forever, undisturbed, even if it means being in pain.

"Come on," says Tyler, soft. It feels so good to hear his voice again, so close to him; it feels wrong to hear it here, in this awful place. "I know you don't want to move, but I can't help you if you don't."

Josh whines again, equally pained and protesting, but he does as Tyler asks, uncurling from around him. He remains laying down, though, as even the small movement makes his skin feel like it's burning again, if to a lesser degree.

Tyler is still fastened to the metal loop in the floor, leaving him half crouched. He's clearly been straining against the zip ties--there are angry pink and red marks around his wrists--and once Josh has moved back, he's able to yank them without shoving Josh, until they finally loosen enough for him to free himself.

Immediately, Tyler's hand is on Josh's head, warm and soft and familiar, and Josh closes his eyes with a quiet sigh. Tyler says nothing, just sits there, close, petting him gently. His hand must be the size of the animal's nose.

The thought is distant, and unimportant in the moment, but Josh recalls how hard this would have been for him a few months ago, to trust Tyler and himself around Tyler.

"You're amazing," Tyler whispers, stroking his broad head.

Josh whines as an answer.

"You came back. You came back here, to a place so horrible to you that it nearly crippled you inside. You came for me." Tyler's hand rests in the center of Josh's head, between his eyes. "You're brave, Josh."

He can't respond verbally. He carefully shifts his head, instead, slowly, trying not to aggravate his pain, and rests it in Tyler's lap. Tyler makes a soft noise, continuing his petting, like he knows.

He probably does.

Josh drifts in and out of awareness. The beast is there all the while, but reluctant to keep hold on the controls, only present to protect Tyler. Being here again, in any shape or form, is hell. It's all he can do to block out the physical and mental pain.

Eventually, physical feeling is what draws Josh back in; Tyler isn't just petting his fur anymore. It's meticulous yet gentle, the way he combs through each little bit, and after a few minutes, Josh realizes he's brushing the broken glass away.

He's lucky, perhaps, that the beast's hide is so thick. He'd have shredded himself, otherwise.

There's something tender about Tyler trying to protect him from himself--his circumstances and mistakes--whether or not it's a hopeless act. Finally, when Tyler smooths a bit of fur on Josh's neck, the animal that is not Josh lets go.

Maybe for the first time, Josh doesn't want to have control, because if he's at the forefront of his body, the weight of what's happening will crush him.

There's not much he can do about it, though. A low whine escapes him as the first tremor creeping down his body, from nose to tail. It won't be the last.

All the while, Tyler is there. All the while, Tyler holds him as best he can, brushes the glass away, and mutters reassurance for only Josh to hear.

"It's okay," Tyler tells him, soft, the gentle sound of his voice soon followed by the audible snap of Josh's muscle and bone readjusting. "It's okay, it's okay."

He's lying, but it'll have to do for now.

It's not like the aftermath of morphing with Tyler, that's for sure. The pain doesn't dissolve into a simmering ache, nor is it soothed by Tyler's gentle touch, as badly as Josh wants it to be. It's like the morphing he used to do, here, forced by a sharp blade or a burn.

This was a forced morph with no outside physical stimulus. This was Josh wrestling the beast down with his bare hands and making it take over.

If he thinks about it that way, it only makes sense that he feels like he was hit by a bus.

For a while, all Josh can do is lay there and breathe. It doesn't come easy to him by any means, but he does it. He can't even open his eyes.

Tyler lets him rest.

Eventually, Josh licks his lips, dry and cracked from the open-mouthed breaths he's been relying on for the past... he doesn't know. It's not like he has a watch. 

It hurts to ask, but he needs to know. Josh keeps his eyes closed as he says, "How?"

Tyler's fingers stir from where they'd been resting in Josh's hair. "How?"

Josh swallows, and that hurts, too. "How'd you get here?"

"I wasn't planning on it." Tyler tucks a loose piece of hair behind Josh's ear. "Barely got out of the house before I got pulled over. Cop said I had a taillight out, and I got out of my car to look."

The rest of the story is easy enough for Josh to picture without Tyler explaining. He doubts the cop he mentioned was actually a police officer, or if they were, they were being bribed by the researchers behind the facility. It would certainly explain why Tyler's car was abandoned on the side of the road.

The only thing worse than the thought of Tyler being kidnapped like that is the bruises blooming on his face.

Josh opens his eyes, and looks right up at them. His head is still in Tyler's lap, even in this other shape. One of Tyler's hands is still in his hair, the other on his own knee. It's hard to look him in the face.

Purple and black and blue. That's what Josh sees.

He only realizes he's touching the bruises when Tyler winces; his thumb brushes his jaw, and Tyler tilts his head to Josh's liking. The injuries aren't severe, at least he doesn't think so, but they must hurt. Something like nausea bubbles in Josh's stomach.

"Don't worry," Tyler says, pliant under Josh's unsteady hands. "I didn't tell them anything."

"You didn't-" Josh stops his exploration, touch stilling,  feeling every wound as if it were his own. "I don't care if you told them anything about me. You should have talked if it meant they wouldn't hurt you."

Despite their grim situation, Tyler offers Josh a half smile. "No way I'd give 'em the satisfaction." There's almost a bite to his tone; he must know they're watching.

Warily, afraid to say it, Josh brushes the edge of the bruise on Tyler's jaw again. As softly as he can, he asks, "They don't know you..." Fuck, if they know Tyler can morph, they'll never leave him alone. He'll become an experiment, too.

"I didn't tell them anything," Tyler repeats, certain. They don't know, he tells Josh without telling him. "Didn't speak at all 'til I saw you."

He exhales, a breath of relief. "I won't let them hurt you again. It's me they want, anyway."

Tyler just looks at him for a long moment, something soft in his eyes, in the bruised curve of his face. "You don't have to be brave alone."

"It's not-" Josh tries to gather his thoughts. "I got us into this mess. I know what it's like here. I'm not letting that happen to you."

"You don't have to protect me."

"I want to." 

Tyler's eyes are like marbles; wide, maybe a little glassy. He closes them for a moment, reaches a hand out to Josh's, lacing their fingers together. When he looks at Josh again, that sadness remains. "Then let me protect you, too."

"You have protected me."

Tyler glances down at the scrapes on Josh's body from the broken glass. They're not as bad as if he'd been human when the barrier broke, but they're not good, either. "Not enough." With his other hand, he carefully traces the edge of one of the smaller scratches. "They said something about a bargain..."

Josh just shakes his head, slight. It's not a refusal to talk about it, so much as a feeble expression that he doesn't want to talk about it. But Tyler persists.

"What did you promise them?"

Soft, Josh admits, "I told them I'd cooperate if they let me see you. The... switching, I guess, was part of that." He still doesn't want to say morph, not when they might be listening.

MR JOSEPH, YOUR PART IN OUR BARGAIN IS COMPLETE. THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU WILL HAVE TO BE REMOVED FOR DISPOSAL.

They used Tyler like he was a tool, merely a means to an end, and were fine with getting rid of him after he'd served his purpose. At least, until Josh got to him. He doesn't know what they'll try to do to Tyler now, only that he can't let it happen.

"What else does cooperate mean?" Tyler murmurs.

For the first time since breaking the glass, Josh looks to the door. It's still firmly shut, with no activity since Tyler was tossed in, but there's no telling what lies on the other side. And that frightens him.

"I don't know."

Chapter Text

They have time.

Josh won't call it mercy; the people here have none. Everything they do has a carefully calculated purpose, and he knows this isn't any different. If they're letting him and Tyler share this space relatively undisturbed, it's for a reason.

Eventually, they move to sit with their backs to the wall furthest from the doors, carefully avoiding the broken glass scattered where Josh broke through. Josh doesn't feel nearly comfortable enough to lay down, and he can tell that Tyler feels the same despite his visible exhaustion. They used to use sleep deprivation to try to convince him to morph--it's not out of the realm of possibility that they did the same in their pursuit of information.

Neither of them speaks; what is there to say? Tyler ultimately drifts off, head leaning against Josh's shoulder, and Josh doesn't dare move, not wanting to disturb him. He remains alert, though, refusing to sleep while Tyler is unable to defend himself.

He lurches only once, when a slot in the nearest door opens. Something is pushed through, then the slot shuts with a quiet clank; Tyler's head shifts from Josh's shoulder to rest on the wall, but he remains asleep.

Josh is reluctant to move away from Tyler, in case they try to take him. Leaning forward, he reaches out to snatch up the items given to him: a plain white shirt and pants, much like the ones he used to wear here when he wasn't morphed or recovering from it. Careful not to disturb Tyler, he slips the shirt over his head and wriggles into the pants. It hurts to move, but he does it, and Tyler really must be tired, because he doesn't stir at all.

So the researchers haven't forgotten about them. Not that Josh really thought they would.

It's always about the research they can glean from him; whatever manipulation they carry out is an unfortunate means to that end, or so they've claimed. Most likely, they're watching them from a safer place, working out their angle and what move they want to make next.

What move does Josh want to make next?

What moves does he have?

It feels like he's here for the first time all over again, except he has a lot more on the line now. Fuck, if he'd just left with one of those shitty goodbye notes he threw out...

The tears form before he can feel them coming, and with no privacy, there's no point in trying to stop them. Josh lets them fall where they may, silently, his head spinning. What has he done?

For one brief, aching moment, he pulls his legs to his chest and presses his face into his knees, struggling to keep his breaths from coming out in broken sobs. Tyler's done so much for him over the past several months; Josh needs to let him rest. Josh needs to be strong for him now. He needs to be a protector, a healer, a friend--everything Tyler was for him when he could scarcely walk without help.

After a few minutes, he manages to reign his emotions in, dragging them back into his body. Josh shuts his eyes tightly, hiding his despair in some dark place behind them, where they won't show so blatantly. He takes stock of what he knows.

He's back at the facility. Tyler is also at the facility, and while he's here with him at this moment, it wasn't intended to happen on the researchers' part, and there's no telling when they'll decide to separate them again, or what will happen to Tyler when they do. Tyler is disposable to them. Tyler can morph, but they don't know that yet.

They will, one way or another; Josh remembers Tyler telling him how he had to morph a few times a month for his own health, and they're here indefinitely.

Unless Josh can get him out in time.

Though, the odds of that aren't looking so good.

Abruptly, the speaker in the wall crackles to life. Josh starts, hair prickling on his arms as he faces it, scrambling to sit up, trying not to wince at the ache in his bones.

LOOK AT YOU, the speaker seems to croon. PLAYING WATCHDOG?

Immediately, instinctively, Josh bares his teeth. It's an empty threat--there's no one to sink his teeth into, and they're far less impressive when he's not an animal--but the cameras will catch it just fine, and the message it sends is clear.

FASCINATING. UNPRECEDENTED, BUT VERY FASCINATING,, the speaker declares. DO YOU KNOW, YOU'VE GIVEN US MORE NEW INFORMATION OVER THE PAST THREE HOURS THAN YOU DID IN THE ENTIRE WEEK BEFORE YOUR LITTLE ADVENTURE?

He hates this. He hates this so much. He doesn't want to give them anything.

WE WERE GOING TO THROW HIM OUT, OF COURSE. BUT I THINK WE MAY HAVE BEEN A BIT TOO HASTY, DON'T YOU?

At his side, Tyler stirs. Slowly, Josh moves to crouch in front of him, putting himself between Tyler and the speaker. Like it'll do anything.

MAYBE THIS IS WHAT YOU NEEDED, the speaker suggests, almost coyly. THEY SAY CAPTIVE ANIMALS ARE BETTER BEHAVED WHEN THEY'RE BUSY. AT ZOOS, THEY GIVE TIGERS CARDBOARD BOXES FILLED WITH RAW MEAT, AND THEY LET THE PATRONS WATCH. MAYBE YOU JUST NEEDED SOMETHING TO PLAY WITH.

"Shut up," Josh snaps.

OH, DON'T TELL ME YOU'VE FORMED SOME SORT OF BOND? Something like amusement glints in the speaker's scolding tone, like a child reprimanding a pet for chewing on their shoes. WILD ANIMALS AND HUMANS DON'T MIX. THOSE TYPES OF FRIENDSHIP ARE... CUTE, I SUPPOSE, BUT ULTIMATELY UNSUSTAINABLE. DOMESTICATION FAILS; ONE ALWAYS ENDS UP BITING THE OTHER. Thoughtfully, the speaker adds, AND WE BOTH KNOW WHICH ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO END UP WITH BLOOD IN THEIR TEETH.

Tyler's voice rises from behind Josh's shoulder, sharp as a blade. "Then you don't know Josh."

OF COURSE WE DON'T, MR JOSEPH. THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT, the speaker says, sounding exasperated. WE'RE HERE TO KNOW. WE'RE HERE TO STUDY, AND TO LEARN

"For what? Scientific progress?" Tyler scoffs.

FOR THE HUMAN RACE, the voice says easily. DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE HAVE BEEN STORIES OF WEREWOLVES IN EVERY CULTURE, GOING BACK THOUSANDS OF YEARS?

"You thought you could make one."

WE KNEW WE COULD. THROUGH SCIENCE, ANYTHING CAN BE ACHIEVED. Of Josh, the speaker adds, THE ONE WE HAVE HERE IS A FIRST DRAFT, YOU UNDERSTAND. OUR FINAL RESULT HAS TO BE PERFECT. A PERSON WILL BE ABLE TO SHIFT TO ANIMAL AND BACK IN SECONDS, WITH MINIMAL PAIN. ALREADY, WE CAN CREATE A CREATURE THAT IS RESISTANT TO DAMAGE, THAT CAN PUSH ITSELF TO PERFORM INCREDIBLE FEATS. THINK OF A WORLD WHERE YOU COULD FIGHT AN ASSAILANT WITH ONLY THE ABILITIES YOU WERE GIVEN, NO GUNS OR KNIVES NECESSARY.

"And how many people have to suffer before you get to that point?"

IRRELEVANT, the speaker dismisses. UNFORTUNATE, OF COURSE, BUT IRRELEVANT. THE PAIN OF THE FEW IS WORTH THE EVOLUTION OF THE MANY. THOUGH I DOUBT YOU WILL EVER SEE IT.

Josh bares his teeth again, sharper, and the beast snarls in the back of his head. "Don't you fucking-"

AT EASE, WATCHDOG. The speaker nearly laughs. AS WE STATED, MR JOSEPH MAY HAVE A PLACE HERE, AFTER ALL. NOW, the voice says, clearing their throat, DINNER WILL BE DELIVERED WITHIN THE HOUR. TOMORROW MORNING, WE WILL RESUME EXPERIMENTATION AS PER USUAL, MR DUN. WE TRUST THAT YOU'LL BEHAVE, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED.

"Fuck off," Josh spits, but the background spatter of the speaker has already faded away to nothing. The crackling stops, leaving Josh and Tyler as alone as they can be once more.

Just as quickly, Josh's anger bleeds from him, leaving him pale and washed out. Fear and dread are lapping at his skin, crawling beneath the surface, and he sinks, slowly.

The only thing that keeps him from disappearing into himself entirely is Tyler's soft hand on his shoulder, tethering him to this place and time. The ache in Josh's heart, in his body, is so heavy that each breath feels more like he's taking in lead than water.

Whatever the researchers have planned--whatever is coming for them, it's coming soon. And they have no way to stop it.

Chapter Text

With little food and no sleep, Josh feels like he's falling apart by the next morning. Tyler rested, some--though he doesn't say so, it's clear that he struggled to sleep before Josh came here. He knows they hurt him, physically, in an attempt to glean information about Josh's whereabouts, and sleep deprivation isn't unlikely.

Whatever the case, they're both awake the next morning when the soldiers return, the door to the cell banging open suddenly. HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK, the soldiers shout, guns trained on them. DON'T MOVE.

Despite the anxiety thrumming through his veins, Josh does as he's told. His own safety matters little to him as he glances to his side; Tyler is echoing him. This is good, because it means they're less likely to hurt him. This is bad, because the mere sight of him with his wrists being zip-tied while a soldier points a gun at him is agonizing.

They're led out of the room, down one hallway, then another. Most of the soldiers are focused on Josh--Tyler is just an ordinary person, incapable of the things Josh can do. Of course, this isn't true, but the soldiers don't know that. They're keeping their eyes away from Tyler; Josh would like to keep it that way.

Consequently, this means their eyes are on him. But he'll take it. It's not like he has much of a choice, anyway.

This is by design. The researchers want his environment controlled, predictable, so that they can keep their focus on the results. Every decision is decisively deliberate, with virtually no other options for Josh. The food they give him is the only food he gets; the shitty cot in his cell is the only one he'll ever get.

In all his time at the facility, Josh has made three choices, each unexpected and unprecedented by the researchers and their lackeys. The first decision was escaping. The second decision was coming back. The third was breaking the glass between his space and Tyler's. The animal that is not Josh is as unpredictable to them as it is to him.

This is what makes it dangerous. By taking away his choices--or, as many opportunities to choose as they can find--they are pulling the animal's teeth straight out of its jaw. They are making it unarmed; defenseless.

Josh feels defenseless as they finally lead him and Tyler to whatever lies ahead. It's a room not unlike the ones they tormented Josh in before; fairly plain, but for a table littered with various instruments. Except, before, where there would have been one chair--a chair Josh would be held down in, tied to--there are two.

Josh wants to throw up.

He barely feels the guards wrangling him into one of the chairs, tying him down. They haven't even started whatever experiment they have planned--they haven't even done anything and he feels dizzy. He's biting the inside of his cheek so hard he can taste blood.

Calm. He has to be--calm. They'll focus on him whether he is or not, but that's not what this is about. He needs to be Tyler's rock. He needs to be something he can hold onto, even when they can't touch.

In the intensity of it all, it takes him a moment to realize that it's instinct, yet again. Of course, Josh himself wants to keep Tyler safe, but the animal that is not Josh is the one baring its teeth. The animal that is not Josh is the one rearing back, hissing furiously, threatening to tear into the researchers if they don't keep their distance.

When Josh was alone here, it was the exact opposite. The beast was afraid--defensive, hostile, of course--but afraid. It lashed out when pushed and prodded, but more out of panic than fury.

Not that Josh isn't afraid now.

All he can do is watch as one of the researchers approaches with a needle and a smile, each equally dangerous. Josh doesn't know any of them by their names--doesn't want to. This one is as cruel and professional as they all are. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Thought we could start small with a blood sample."

His hands are shaking when they push the needle into his arm, but otherwise he remains still, his jaw clenched. He doesn't know where to look, but he can't let his eyes close. He used to look the other way when they did this... except, now, Tyler is there, and Josh can't bear to see what emotion his face might be betraying.

"There you go," the researcher approves as the vial fills. Josh barely feels the sting as the needle is removed. Something is pressed to his skin--a bandage, right over the tiny dot of blood. It makes him feel sick.

"They gave you a band-aid," Tyler says, quiet, to Josh's left. "Why would they do that?"

"It behaved," the researcher hums, moving the vial to a nearby table to run whatever tests they have planned. "At least, this time."

Josh wants to tell Tyler they've always been like this--acting like his friend, then turning around and gutting him. They're nice to him when it's convenient, when treating him like a person serves them to some degree. Otherwise, he's no more than an animal; a monster. Something so far from human that the punishment and pain they bring him are irrelevant.

Josh wants to tell Tyler this, but Tyler already knows. He knows because Josh told him so, when his memories became too much to bear alone.

But this isn't memory. This is happening in real time, to him and in front of him. There's nothing left to say.

Josh can see the scalpel on the table; it's out of his reach, but grabbing it isn't his first thought, anyway. No, the only thing he can think when he sees the way it glints under the artificial lights is how much it hurts. His scars are not all young, but they still sing with stinging pain if things get bad.

It was always under the premise of seeing what he could survive, what he could take. They had hoped for some sort of regenerative abilities, he thinks, but Josh nor the beast had never had any. After that, they wanted to see what would happen to wounds inflicted in his different states of being, if they would get better or worse after morphing, if they could cause a morph. At some point, they stopped trying to reason with him about their motives, at least in terms of specifics.

"It's in the name of science, you understand," they'd say, apologetic, right before pressing a red hot iron rod to his skin, before encouraging one of the soldiers to punch him in the face, before plunging a scalpel into his thigh.

Josh is so paralyzed with pain and dread and memory at the sight of the blade that he almost misses an unarmed soldier quickly entering the room.

He does miss what the soldier mutters to the researcher at the head of today's experiment, and the permanently serious look on their face reveals nothing. The researcher, however, reacts loudly--and negatively--enough to snap him out of his daze.

"Ridiculous! Do you know how long we've been waiting to continue our experiments? We should not, cannot, delay them for some minor inconvenience!"

"There's been a disturbance, sir. Can't afford to risk another escape. It's just to be on the safe side 'til it's sorted out."

The researcher's scowl turns from the soldier, flits over Josh. "Fine."

It's all so sudden that Josh doesn't know what to do. As roughly as he was brought here, now two soldiers are untying him from the chair, forcing his hands behind his back and shuffling him across the room.

Except, they don't get far, because Tyler is still here, still tied down, and Josh won't leave him alone with them. He pulls against the arms holding him back, straining to stay in the room.

"Tyler," Josh manages, no other words coming to his lips. "Tyler-"

"What about him?" One of the soldiers questions, gesturing vaguely towards Tyler with their rifle.

"This must be about him," mutters another, one of the soldiers holding Josh back. "They must be looking for him." They almost seem hesitant to separate the two.

"You can't get away with this forever," Tyler says, looking at the researcher with disdain. "You have to know that. People will look for us."

The researcher is writing something down again. Their brows furrow, but they don't look up. "They never looked for it," they state plainly, gesturing with their pen in Josh's direction.

"He's not an it!" Tyler spits. "He's human. The only monster here is all of you." One soldier laughs. Another, the one meant to be guarding Tyler, gives him a dirty look.

"We need to put it back in containment," another soldier presses. "Are we bringing this one or not?"

"I don't care! Just shut him up," the researcher demands, clearly irritated, still writing. "I don't have time for this."

And with that, the guard standing behind Tyler raises the butt of his rifle and slams it into the back of his head.

Chapter Text

In the moment that Tyler slumps forward--the moment they're finally pulling him out of the room--something in Josh snaps.

Everything he's tried so hard to avoid has come to happen. It doesn't matter how much he tried to keep him away; Tyler's here because of Josh, and they tortured him because of Josh, and now they've hurt him, or worse. It's all his fault. He's dragged Tyler into his world, and that world is going to swallow him whole.

In the midst of his panic, Josh's body is flooded with adrenaline. Josh is paralyzed, terrified, frozen in place, but his body is not. And where Josh sinks, something else rises.

The animal that is not Josh fucking loses it.

Josh is still there, but control is far beyond him. All he knows is that one second, the guard that hit Tyler is standing, and the next, he's on the ground.

He's screaming. Josh's face is wet. Is he crying? No, there's too much; it fills his mouth, runs down his chin. All he can see for one horrible moment is red. All he's sure of is that he's never morphed so fast in his life.

He still hears screaming. He hears an alarm going off, bullets being fired--though if any hit him, he doesn't feel it. He staggers backwards a few steps, dazed, blind with rage.

The white of a lab coat lights up in his vision like a beacon, like a target, like a big red X to mark the spot. The beast lurches.

The table breaks where the researcher's back hits it. They're screaming, he's sure, even though the alarm is ringing in his sensitive ears and he can barely hear anything else. The clipboard is on the floor, the pen is bleeding ink. The researcher, prepared mere minutes ago to stab Josh without anything resembling mercy, is now a trembling, gasping mess on the floor.

For all that the beast has been through here, it has never been so close to one of the researchers before, not in this state. Its first escape was a fluke, a mistake, and no one got hurt--but this is not that time. This is something else.

Fight or flight, the saying goes. And this time, the animal has chosen to fight.

For a being used to feeling more like prey, predatory instinct seems to come to it remarkably easily. It doesn't approach the researcher directly, instead stalking carefully from an angle--hackles raised, a growl low in its throat. Its tail is low, slowly swishing from side to side, and when the researcher scrabbles at the broken table, probably trying to get up, the beast hisses.

It's almost funny how quickly their situations have flipped. Never have any of the researchers shown apprehension towards him, because they were never in danger; Josh was always the frightened one, no matter the state he was in. But with no glass wall or one-way mirror between them, there is nothing to muddle the animal's ferocity. It is the one with the power, now.

"Incredible," the researcher breathes, shaky. Even in their obvious terror, there is something like fascination in their eyes--or maybe it's pride. Josh doesn't know.

The beast doesn't care. It bares its teeth at the researcher's voice, still pacing, but with each turn it only grows closer.

"You have so much promise," the researcher continues, despite the beast's warning. "Look at you. This- you will change the world. Can't you see that?"

With its anger only growing the more they speak, the animal that is not Josh cuts its pacing short, taking a direct step towards the researcher. It opens its mouth this time, displaying its sharp teeth, the growl in its throat rising higher, louder--

Until a quiet groan joins it. The beast immediately goes silent at the sound, audible through the alarms, which seem to have shut down, replaced by flashing lights.

"Josh..."

The aggression it was experiencing mere seconds ago drains from the beast rapidly, replaced by a different, protective instinct. Despite the threat of the researcher, it turns away, slowly approaching the two chairs left unattended to in the center of the room.

One chair is empty. The other still holds Tyler.

He's dazed, that's obvious--his brow is furrowed, his eyes shut, but his lashes flutter at the low whine the beast makes at the sight of him. He's still bound to the chair, his head still hanging, but he's alive. He's still alive.

Desperate to help, but unsure how, the animal that is not Josh lays its head in Tyler's lap. Josh, still somewhere within, wants to apologize to him, to tell him he's sorry and he's going to get him out of this, but there's no guarantee that he can. He has no way of saying so, anyway; at least in this state.

"I see it now," comes a voice, not Tyler's. The researcher has managed to stand, though they're keeping their distance from the beast. That sick awe is still in their eyes. "You did what we couldn't. You've trained it. It listens to you, doesn't it?"

The beast lifts its head again, glaring at them. "Fuck you," Tyler mutters, clearly in pain, but the message is clear, too. "I didn't do anything."

"It should be tearing you to bits," the researcher insists, "as it would do to anyone else. Perhaps I was wrong about you. Perhaps you're the key to taming it."

The beast doesn't like the way they're looking at Tyler; it puts one massive paw forward, as if daring them to do something they'll swiftly regret. Tyler lifts his head a little, and though he must be in pain, he still has energy enough for further rebuke.

"There is no key," he says. "The problem all along is how you treated Josh, how you treated god knows how many people before him. It's no wonder he hates you. You talk about him like he isn't even in the room, you torture him for fun-"

"We needed to know its physical limits," the researcher interrupts. "There are possible militaristic uses for abilities like these."

Tyler shakes his head a little, then winces, and stops. "If your people hadn't hit me in the head, I'd be at your throat right now myself."

The researcher scowls. "You have no sense of innovation," they say. "Think of how many lives this could improve, or outright save. Once we perfect it, it'll change everything. You have some influence over this creature now, whether you admit it or not. I'd rather we join forces than some far more unpleasant alternative."

"You've got to be kid-"

"You'd be well compensated. Admittedly, our funds are stretched a bit thin now, but once we improve the base model enough to interest investors, you'll have all the money you could ever need. We could get you set up with a nice house, a new car... we'd put this whole mess behind us."

"I don't want money."

"Then what do you want?"

Tyler's breaths are quiet, shakier than the beast would like. Its ears remained pricked for any answer, its eyes trained firmly on the researcher to keep them in their place.

"I want Josh," Tyler admits, surprisingly gentle for his fierce tone from before. "I want you to leave him alone and never hurt him, or anyone, ever again."

The researcher seems taken aback by this for a moment, then shakes their head. "You must know there's very little 'human' of him left. Even if there were, our research will benefit everyone once it's perfected. The suffering is... unfortunate, but it's a necessary evil. We will get the results we're after," they insist, taking a step closer. The beast growls lowly. "With you, or without you."

Suddenly, they lunge forward, something sharp and shining in their grip. The beast doesn't stop to think--all it sees is a threat to Tyler, the person or the animal or both, that has become so terribly important to it and to Josh.

It's over quickly. The beast's jaws grasp the researcher's body--they scream, maybe--and it tosses its head, tossing their body like a rag doll. The researcher slams into the wall, this time hard, and the beast's face is stinging on one side, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because Tyler is safe.

The researcher does not get up a second time.

Before Josh can absorb what the beast has just done, the door to the lab swings open wide, banging against the wall. His morph responds immediately, whipping around to face the doorway and snarling aggressively, fur bristling in a ridge down its spine.

It's expecting a soldier, or one of the researchers, but this person is visibly neither. He's dressed in plain clothes, he's unarmed, and something about him is familiar, even though he's a stranger. The beast is briefly confused, and the snarl in its throat stops.

"Holy shit," the stranger sputters, standing stock still in the doorway. "Holy fucking shit, what the fuck-"

The beast doesn't snarl again, but it takes a step forward, putting itself between Tyler and the intruder. It bares its teeth in a silent warning, one paw raised. The message is clear: Don't even think about it.

Behind it, Tyler mumbles something unclear.

"Tyler, what the fuck," the stranger manages, staring wide-eyed at Josh. "What the fuck is that?"

The fact that this stranger apparently knows Tyler's name doesn't placate the beast any. It sets its paw down firmly on the cold floor, claws sharp and gleaming as it dares to take another step forward. To its satisfaction, the stranger takes a step back in turn.

"Don't," comes Tyler's voice, rising from behind the beast. "Josh, don't."

Now the beast is even more confused. It closes its mouth, and it doesn't get any closer to the stranger, but it doesn't make any move to back off, either. Protecting Tyler, in this moment, is the most important thing.

"What the fuck is going on?" the stranger gapes. "What is that thing?"

Voice rasping, Tyler answers, "I know him. It's okay. Josh," he repeats when the beast bares its teeth again. "It's okay. It's Zack. It's my brother."

A memory clicks in its head--or at least, it clicks for Josh, who remembers the day Zack came by to borrow Tyler's snowblower. This is the brother who pounded on the door until Tyler let him in, who had a cold yet claimed he could tell someone else was staying in the house by scent alone. His face is unfamiliar, but his voice is recognizable; Josh had accidentally eavesdropped on him and Tyler that day.

The beast doesn't recognize his voice, nor does it care that Josh does,and for one perilous moment, he's afraid it will ignore his pleas and attack. But then Tyler says his name again, soft, from the chair he's still tied to; hurt, but sheltered behind the beast.

"Josh."

It almost physically pains the beast to do, but it backs down, turning its head away and pacing around the chair slowly, stopping at Tyler's side and staring at Zack distrustfully.

Zack just stares back for a long moment, equally distrustful, though there's apprehension behind his eyes instead of anger. "It's- I'm gonna untie you now," he says after a second, carefully moving forward. The beast growls. "I'm gonna untie him now," Zack says to the beast directly, and this time it lets him closer.

Tyler exhales something shaky as soon as he's freed from the chair, one hand clutching at his head. "How did you find..."

"Your text was fishy as hell, dude."

"What text?" Tyler moves to stand up, then winces sharply and sinks back down into the chair. "Shit- My head fucking hurts."

Zack glances over his shoulder quickly, then back to Tyler. "I- Okay, I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, but we gotta get out of here."

"Not without Josh."

"Who's Josh?"

Tyler reaches out a hand, unsteady, and the beast meets it immediately, leaning into the touch. Tyler's fingers curl into its fur, gentle but firm, and it huffs.

"That's Josh?"

The beast flattens its ears, but is reassured by Tyler's soft petting. Zack helps Tyler get to his feet, lets him lean on him, with one of Tyler's arms around his shoulder and another still clutching at the beast. It stays close as they finally leave the room, supporting Tyler, refusing to leave his side. It won't leave him. It couldn't if it tried.

And all Tyler says is, "They made him."

Chapter Text

'Disturbance' was understating it.

They don't run into anyone on their way through the building, but once they reach the outside, the chaos that has occurred here is obvious. Weapons lie where they've fallen, spent rounds of ammunition littering the ground. The gate to the facility has been left wide open, bent and broken in haste--though Josh doesn't know which side this haste came from. Gunshots that have obviously missed their targets have peppered holes in the asphalt, in the soil, in the side of the building, in a truck sporting dozens of new wounds and at least two flat tires. There's no soldiers or researchers in sight.

Almost the moment the three of them exit the building, however, gunshots ring through the air. The beast reacts quickly, leaping in front of Tyler--and Zack, though the beast still distrusts him--and shielding them with its body. It's big and threatening and obvious; it's always been a target, in some ways. Why should this be any different? Why should it try to change that now? Josh knows he isn't thinking rationally, but he's not in charge here, and the beast doesn't seem to care about its own safety when it has something worth protecting.

Tyler cries out, something like No! or Stop! or Josh!, but it comes too late.

The beast is a hell of a meat shield. Its pelt stings sharply where bullets must be piercing, but it stands its ground, claws gripping the ground, teeth gritted and eyes shut tight. It has taken stabbing, burning, breaking pain--it can take this. It will take this.

And then there's a yelp--human--and a heavy thud, and then the gunshots suddenly stop. The beast opens its eyes just in time to see something emerge from behind the truck.

It's not a person.

Tawny brown fur covers a doglike body, except no dog could be this big. It's the height of a horse, with a long tail held low over the ground. It looks sleek and sharp, though there appears to be a few minor injuries scattered across its body; its coat looks rough in places, and one of its ears is torn. Despite this, it looks less like the beast and more like Tyler's morph; confident in its own movement, natural in every way the beast isn't.

They can't have made it; if they did, they wouldn't have wanted Josh back so badly. No, this isn't like him; it's natural. It's a stranger. It's a strange morph, and it's so startling to see that Josh and the animal that is not Josh are both stunned.

The beast recovers first, immediately defensive, snarling at the new threat as it approaches. The strange morph seems surprised to see him, ears flattening and tail bushing up, taking a careful step backward.

"He's with us," Zack says, though he doesn't sound sure. The beast starts, so focused on the new threat that it nearly forgot he was there. "He's with us. Where's Jay?"

The unfamiliar morph seems hesitant, still, and gets no closer, but it turns its head and barks. Seconds later, another bark answers it, and another morph appears, racing around the corner of the building and skidding to a stop next to the first. This one has slightly darker fur, and it's a little smaller, but it's definitely not man-made, and it's definitely a stranger.

If the beast felt threatened before, it only doubles with the addition of a second creature, so similar to yet so different from itself. It lowers its head, teeth still bared, but the tail between its legs undoubtedly reveals its distress. It's outnumbered, and it knows it.

If it didn't have Tyler to protect, it would be fleeing into the woods by now.

But it does. The two morphs seem unsure what to do with Josh, unwilling to invade its space, but clearly trying to get closer to both Tyler and Zack. The second, smaller one paces around the beast, like it thinks it won't notice, but it lurches to cover them, snarling. The second morph jumps.

"Josh, stop," comes Tyler's rasping plea, breaking the tense atmosphere. They must've only been outside for a few seconds, but the beast is trembling like it's going to collapse from exhaustion.

"Tyler's hurt," Zack insists, but he's directing it at the two natural morphs. "And we should get out of here before cops start showing up." Sure enough, sirens have begun to wail in the distance.

"Home," Tyler says, pain evident in his voice. He's clinging to the beast's side, fingers tight in its fur. "I want to go home."

And just like that, the beast's demeanor changes. Tyler sounds so tired, so hurt; the beast knows that feeling, and Josh does, too. It's what he's been trying to protect him from this entire time, what he felt in the facility for over a year.

Josh couldn't go home then. But he can take Tyler home now.

Summoning up all its energy, the beast abruptly turns, and lowers its head, nose nudging Tyler's side. Every alarm in Josh's brain is going off as the beast opens its mouth, right in front of Tyler, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

Except, the beast doesn't bite him. Instead, as gently and gingerly as possible, the beast grips the back of Tyler's shirt, the way a cat scruffs a kitten. Zack shouts "Hey!" and the two unfamiliar morphs growl; one even leaps for Tyler, but Josh's morph is too quick. Before anyone can stop it, it darts out the broken front gate, Tyler grasped in its jaws. It doesn't stop, even when the other morphs tear off after him, barking loudly. It just keeps going.

It just keeps going and going and going, head lifted as high as it can off the ground to avoid dragging Tyler all over the place. Josh doubts it's a comfortable ride, but Tyler is clinging to the beast's chest now, fingers clutching tightly to long, wiry fur, and the beast doesn't drop him.

The other morphs are after them, and Josh's only just manages to keep in the lead. Its body hurts all over, pelt stinging, an ache in its jaw that almost feels like it's burning by the time their destination is in view.

Tyler's house looks exactly as Josh left it. How long ago was it that he drove Tyler's car to the facility? A day, two? It feels like longer. It feels like it's been eons since he's seen anything like home, and if Josh were in control, he would weep with relief.

They're home now. They're home now, and they can stop running.

The beast stutters to a stop on the front porch, still clutching the back of Tyler's shirt in its teeth. As the pursuing morphs race into the yard, barking, the beast staggers, overwhelmed. It made it out. They both made it out.

Slowly, its jaw goes slack, releasing Tyler, who manages to slip onto the front porch without falling too far, though his eyes are unfocused. He may not even know where he is; just that the beast brought him here, that he trusts it not to take him somewhere dangerous. He's always trusted it. He's always been here for it, and for Josh, in ways they're both trying to understand.

The beast seizes. It's a pain immediately familiar, an arc down the spine that makes its bones splinter, and it cries out, barely managing to stumble a few feet away from Tyler before collapsing to the ground.

Contrary to how quickly it happened earlier, morphing back now is painfully slow. Josh feels like he cowers on the porch for years, shaking and grasping for something, anything, but he only scrabbles at the wood below. The beast has done all it can, and it's too exhausted and hurt to give more. So, it gives up.

Josh is exhausted and hurt, too, but the beast has relented control to him, and as much as he doesn't want to take it, he has to.

He's vaguely aware of shapes moving around him, but he doesn't know if they're human or not. He hears voices, too, though he's unable to make out what they're saying.

One of the figures leans over him, looking down; or maybe they're looking up, because Josh feels like he's floating in the worst way. He shuts his eyes, praying for the agony to subside, but it doesn't. It's the only constant he's afforded.

It's not enough to keep him grounded, and finally--mercifully or otherwise--Josh drifts away.

Chapter Text

When Josh wakes up, he is immediately aware of three things.

The first is that he's human again, or as close as he gets to that; his hand twitches, and he flexes his fingers. Fingers, not claws. They brush against the sheets below him, which makes up his second observation: he's in a bed, not one of the cots at the facility. He knows those cots too well--they're thin enough he can feel the bed frame beneath him, and this isn't that. This is soft cotton, a plush mattress, and familiar-smelling blankets.

The third thing that Josh is aware of is the pain. It's an echo in his body, a sound rippling across the surface of a lake. When he tries to move--to sit up, try to get his bearings--the echo becomes a thundering boom, and he gasps. This gasp is a mistake, too, because pain shoots through one side of his face, less heavy but far sharper. Josh sinks back down before he's even fully propped himself up.

He hears a noise, then, and instinct drives him to try to sit up again. It's like a migraine, coming in waves, but all throughout his body, and he grits his teeth against it, shuddering.

Opening his eyes hurts, too, but he does it.

He's in the guest room, the same one he's been sleeping in with Tyler pretty much since he escaped the facility the first time. Tyler's not in bed with him now. The dogs aren't there, either, but someone else is, sitting in a chair in the corner by the door.

Josh has never seen this face, but his beast has, and he recognizes Zach when he sees him. It's almost jarring, knowing he has never met this person, yet he has in some twisted way.

Only as Josh tries to speak does he realize he has a bandage on his face. "Where's-"

"Hospital." Zach has clearly been scrolling through his phone, but he puts it down at the sight of a lucid Josh. "Doctor's checking him out, no other news yet."

He's looking at Josh with thinly veiled suspicion--or, maybe he's not trying to hide it at all. Josh is reminded of when he first encountered Zach, when he knocked on Tyler's front door. Thinking he was the researchers and their lackeys coming to get him, Josh had pressed himself into the corner of the bed, up against the wall. Some part of him wants to do that again, but he highly doubts he can handle it considering how much it hurts just to sit up.

"You shouldn't talk," Zach tells him, pointing at his own cheek before unlocking his phone again. "I'll let you know if anything changes," he says, of Tyler.

Slowly, gingerly, Josh lifts a hand to his face, and his fingers brush something cottony on the left side of his face. He's already aware of a few other bandages on his body, partially due to the pain attached to them, but whatever injury lies beneath this one feels numb.

He touches the bandage, tracing the edge with his fingers, and finds that it goes from just behind his ear all the way down his jaw to his chin. The padding over the wound is soft, and prodding at it makes a dull throb of pain lap at his cheek.

"Don't mess with it," Zach says, without looking up from his phone. "Go back to sleep."

Josh isn't sure he likes Zach--he's more demanding than Tyler, telling him what to do rather than suggesting or encouraging it--and he definitely doesn't trust him. But like with Tyler, Josh knows he's probably right.

He manages to lay down without crying out in pain, and pulls the blanket up over his head. It's the only protection he has.

If staying awake is a game, then pain and anxiety are a winning combination, and sleep takes a long time to finally come for him again. When it does, it's fitful, restless; a mess of tossing and turning sending flashes of pain through his body, combined with another ache, one that haunts his subconscious. He keeps reaching out, silently seeking a warm, comforting body that isn't there.

At some point--he doesn't know when--Josh does wake up again. Something has startled him from his sleep, and it's not the pain.

With his eyes still shut, he can hear the soft click of the door shutting, as though whoever is entering doesn't want to disturb him. Josh's heart pounds in his chest; it's not Tyler. He knows it's not Tyler, because Tyler would say something when he came in, letting him know it was him, a promise that it was just them and no one else.

This person doesn't say anything. Josh lays very still, debating back and forth over if he should--if he can--do anything. It can't be anyone associated with the facility, because they would have grabbed him by now, though this doesn't reassure him much. It has to be Zach.

Except, when Josh risks opening his eyes, he sees a stranger. She's setting a tray on the nightstand, and when she glances over, she seems a little surprised to see him awake.

"Feeling up for some soup?" she asks him. She's older--not old, but older--and she doesn't seem threatening, but Josh knows better than to trust what his eyes are telling him, especially when it comes to kindness from strangers.

Josh sits up a little. It still hurts, but it's more of an ache, one he thinks he can handle if he goes slow. The soup is sitting on the nightstand, and he can smell chicken; it smells good, and Josh is hungry. When did he eat last? He's not entirely sure.

Logically, he knows this woman isn't from the facility, because he's still in Tyler's house, and if the researchers or their lackeys had an opportunity to capture him again they would have done so as quickly as possible. This knowledge, unfortunately, doesn't make it any easier for him to accept her offering. He eyes the soup warily.

"I've got some crackers, too, if you'd rather have those," the stranger offers, though she's looking at the bandage on his face when she says it. Josh shakes his head and looks back at the soup, trying to work up the nerve to take it.

The stranger must have picked up on his anxiety, because she slowly lifts the tray from the nightstand and sets it on the flat end of the bed before moving to sit in the chair Zach was in before. It's still closer than Josh is really comfortable with, but he's hungry and this woman is, at least, making some sort of effort to work around his issues.

He takes it slow, because it hurts to move, but he does manage to shift closer to the soup and take the spoon off the tray with trembling hands. The first spoonful is warm and delicious; after a few minutes of slowly eating, Josh realizes he's been favoring the uninjured side of his mouth.

Generally, he can assume that the pain throughout his body is a consequence of morphing so quickly, as well as being shot at, no matter whether or not the bullets pierced flesh--and he doesn't think they did, considering his body feels pretty intact. He doesn't remember what happened to his face.

The more he eats, the better he starts to feel, even if it's not much. Having something in his belly is certainly an improvement.

He can see the stranger watching when she thinks he's not looking.

Eventually, Josh can't stand it anymore; he has to know. Between careful sips of the soup, he lets the spoon linger in the bowl, and gathers up his courage. There are a lot of questions in his mind, but the only one that feels urgent right now is one he's particularly afraid to voice, and unsure how to phrase. In the end, it comes out as simply as possible.

"Tyler?"

"He's at the hospital," the woman says. For the first time, Josh notices the bags under her eyes, though relief is evident in her voice. "Concussion. He's staying overnight so the doctors can keep an eye on him. Maddy will bring him home in the morning."

Tyler, home. Hurt, but safe, and alive. Some part of Josh feels like weeping. He goes back to his soup instead.

Now that he knows for sure that Tyler is alive, the other questions swimming around in his head begin to tug at him. Josh ignores them until he's finished the soup, which takes longer than he'd like to admit with the state he's in. He knows the stranger is still there, but she's so quiet now that if he closes his eyes, he thinks he could forget.

He's sure he doesn't know her. She's too old to be Tyler's sister... but just the right age to be-

"You're Tyler's mom," Josh says. It comes out raspy, not quite a whisper, as if keeping his voice low will avoid aggravating his pain.

She smiles when he looks at her, a little sad, or maybe just tired. Maybe both. "You can call me Kelly," she says, then stands. Josh starts, but she's only taking the empty glass of water from the tray; he half watches as she goes in the bathroom to refill it at the sink.

The door is unguarded, at least on this side. If he's going to make a break for it, this would be the time.

But why should he? This isn't some trick of the facility, he's sure--they'd never treat him so kindly, certainly not after what he pulled there earlier--and he doesn't have anywhere else to run to. Plus, if what Tyler's mom has said is true, Tyler will be home in the morning. Josh wants to be there to meet him. He needs to be, a sudden pang that makes his chest ache. He's got to see him again.

He still blames himself for everything that happened. He still wants to protect Tyler, in any way he can.

Kelly comes back from the bathroom with the glass of water and offers it to him. Josh looks at her carefully; she's standing a safe distance back, holding the water out, like she knows his aversion to touch. Maybe she does. Would Tyler have told her? Did Tyler tell her? Did Tyler say anything at all before they took him to the hospital?

Josh takes the glass slowly. Kelly sets something else on the tray--two little blue pills. The sight stirs something in Josh, reminding him vividly of when he first came to this place, when he was wounded and afraid and so terribly uncertain.

Tyler was there, then. He isn't now. He will be in the morning.

"For your pain," Kelly says, a note of sympathy in her voice. Josh wonders if she ever took care of her children this way, or gave them medication for their pain after a morph. They probably never needed it.

Josh doesn't know her, nor trust her, but her word, the promise of Tyler coming home, is all he has. Silently, he takes the pills, swallowing them with the water before giving the glass back to Kelly's waiting hand.

She takes the tray with her when she goes. Josh carefully lays back on the bed, waiting for the meds to kick in, for sleep to find him, and for morning to come.

Chapter Text

The ache is still there, but less pronounced, and Josh is awake when Tyler's mom brings him breakfast that morning, oatmeal with some fruit. Some part of him misses the bowls of cereal he and Tyler would eat together at the kitchen table, though he thinks that has more to do with the company than the food itself.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she prompts. If Josh were able to ignore everything else, he thinks he'd feel like he was a kid again, home from school with the flu.

He starts to say no, then hears the back door opening, and the scattered pawsteps of Tyler's fleet of dogs. He doesn't doubt Zack's been taking care of them like he said he would, but Josh hasn't actually seen them for himself since he left.

So he swallows, and he says, "Jim?"

It's hard to tell if she's surprised that he knows the dog's name, though her concern is more visible. He's expecting this--he's a danger to himself, and to everyone around him--except Kelly says, "I don't want him to run you over. He's a bundle of energy."

She's not wrong, but now that the idea of the dog has come into his head, Josh can't give it up. Other than Tyler, Jim is the biggest comfort he's found outside of the facility. He doesn't know how to explain this to Tyler's mother, so he doesn't try.

"Please?"

She lets him in. Jim jumps up on the bed immediately, tail wagging like crazy, stepping right into Josh's lap and licking and sniffing him all over. Admittedly, he's a little rough on Josh's persistent aches, but not so rough that he can't handle it. Emotionally, he feels way better with Jim here.

Once Jim calms down a little, Kelly leaves them be. Josh lays back on the bed for a moment, stroking Jim's soft fur, a soothing rhythm. Jim nudges his head on Josh's arm, looking at him with big brown eyes.

"I didn't think I'd come back," Josh finds himself admitting to the dog. Jim sighs like he knows.

He doesn't know how long he lays there for. He does know when he hears the car pull into the driveway; Jim leaps off the bed and races to the bedroom door, barking. Josh takes longer than he'd like to sit up, slide off the mattress, and approach the door; the ache is still at its worst when he moves. Jim tears off down the hall as soon as Josh gets the door open, which ends up being easier than he'd thought it would.

Not that he expected them to lock him in here, exactly. But he wouldn't have blamed them if they had.

Zack is in the kitchen, washing dishes. He doesn't look pleased to see Josh up and about, and his hands drip with soapy water as he gestures at him. "You shouldn't be up," he says.

Josh ignores him and carefully makes his way across the living room towards the front door, all the while aware of Zack turning off the sink and drying his hands to follow him. He's in no rush; they both know Josh isn't going far.

Not when Tyler is so close. And he is, because Josh knows it before he's even squeezed past the dogs and opened the front door. It's just how Tyler described it, that innate connection, a bond between their morphs. It tells him when Tyler is nearby, and it pulls him in his direction. Josh feels like he hasn't seen him in ages.

He doesn't recognize the car, nor the girl that's getting out of the driver's seat. But he knows the figure sliding out of the passenger side, he knows him, and Josh knows it hurts all over as he sprints towards him but he doesn't care.

The impact is like a wave smashing into the rocks. It isn't rough--Josh is hurt, and Tyler is hurt, and they can't afford to make their troubles any worse--but the feeling that hits Josh when they collide is as instantaneous as getting wiped out.

It feels so right.

Tears of relief and guilt alike well up in the corner of Josh's eyes as he presses his face into the crook of Tyler's neck and holds on for dear life. Tyler's arms are wrapped around him in turn, fingers curling into the shirt Josh has been sleeping in; Tyler's shirt, because of course it's Tyler's.

Maybe Zach has followed Josh outside, and maybe he makes a disapproving noise at the sight of them. Maybe Maddy, Tyler's sister, glances curiously in their direction as she closes the driver's side door. Josh doesn't know or care.

Tyler leans the side of his head into Josh's, the comforting gesture so familiar that Josh has to blink hard to keep from crying. "Hey," Tyler says, soft, and Josh knows he's trying to be the collected one here because that's just who he is, but he also knows he's not imagining the slight tremor in Tyler's voice when he whispers it again. "Hey."

Somewhere on the porch, Zach clears his throat. The guilty feeling in the back of Josh's throat rises--he's getting in the way, Tyler needs to come inside and rest. He can't resist one final breath, though, drawn from the collar of Tyler's sweatshirt, before letting go and stepping back to let Tyler greet his brother.

He smells like the hospital, but he smells like Tyler, too. Pine, snowstorms, and wet dog. He's home.

They don't touch as Zach leads them all back towards the house. The second the front door is open, the dogs come pouring out, excited yips and wagging tails filling the small space. Tyler immediately sinks to his knees--not out of pain, just to be closer to them. They're all over him, licking and sniffing, and Tyler is smiling and smiling and petting them and saying things like Good boy, good boy and Jim, down and I missed you too. Josh's heart clenches at the sight.

Eventually they all manage to get inside, dogs included. Tyler follows his sister's instructions to sit on the couch while she puts away the few things they've brought from the hospital, and Zach goes back in the kitchen to finish the dishes. The dogs swarm around Tyler's legs, and Ned quickly lays claim to a seat on Tyler's lap, licking under his chin, which makes Tyler laugh.

And Josh lingers behind the couch, uncertain, his guilt still gnawing at him. No matter how good it is to see Tyler again, the knowledge that Josh is the reason this reunion had to happen at all makes him hesitate.

But then Tyler looks up from where he's been scratching Ned's ears, his eyes on Josh so earnest and genuine that Josh almost forgets about blaming himself. "Aren't you going to sit down?" Tyler says.

So Josh does. He's still hesitant to get too near Tyler; or at least, he knows he should be. It's his fault that Tyler got taken in the first place. It's his fault that Tyler got hurt. He should be blaming Josh for what happened.

The respectful distance Josh has tried to keep between them falls apart as soon as Tyler reaches out for him. He's not smiling anymore, concern slipping over his face like a bubbling brook as his hand brushes Josh's shoulder, checking. "Okay?" Tyler asks him.

The fact that he's even asking, paired with the temptation of touch, makes Josh's resolve crack, and he nods, shifting his body closer in response to the question Tyler hasn't asked aloud. It's an invitation, laced with hope, and Josh curls right up against Tyler's side because he wants to be there.

He still can't believe they're both here. Every moment is a miracle.

Tyler's arm around his waist is a miracle, too, as is the chaste but sweet kiss on Josh's shoulder that makes his skin tingle. Tyler should be mad at him. Josh should be leaving. He should leave.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, instead. It doesn't feel like nearly enough. He doesn't know how to express how much he regrets letting Tyler get swept up into this mess.

Tyler just shakes his head, his hair brushing the good side of Josh's face as he rests his forehead on his shoulder for a moment. "I... Honestly, I'm really just happy we're alive."

Josh feels a swirling mix of warmth and shame when Tyler lifts his head again, meeting his eyes. He's so forgiving. How can he just let Josh do this to him?

Traitorously, some part of Josh wants to kiss him now. Instead, he reaches out to pet Jim; the golden retriever is leaning against his leg, head resting on Josh's knee. Jim is forgiving, too.

"Does it hurt?" Josh asks.

"A lot, at first." Tyler's eyes flick down to the dog in his lap; Ned has made himself comfortable and is resting his head on his paws. "Not so much now." He looks back to Josh. "You saved my life, you know that?"

It's my fault it needed saving, Josh wants to say, but he hears footsteps coming into the living room, and the moment is gone.

It's Maddy; at least, Josh assumes so, since Tyler's mom told him that she'd be picking him up from the hospital. She raises a brow at how close he and Tyler are on the couch, but says nothing of it, giving Josh a little wave before sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. Josh appreciates the space.

"You're Josh," she tells him, a confirmation, and introduces herself. "Nice to meet you. Or, nice to meet you again, I guess."

"You were there," Josh says, though he's not certain. She nods.

"Sorry if Jay and I freaked you out. We were kind of freaked out, too." Maddy smiles a little, awkwardly clasping her hands in her lap. "Never met a morph like you before."

It clicks. Maddy, Tyler's sister--Jay, Tyler's brother--they're morphs. More than that, they were the morphs that chased Josh when he grabbed Tyler and carried him home.

He can't really blame them for thinking the beast might hurt Tyler. Honestly, he can't blame them for any of this. He knows who's at fault for all of this, and it isn't Tyler or any of his family.

"Where is Jay?" Tyler asks, pulling Josh from his thoughts.

"Went with Mom to pick up a few things. Should be back soon." Zach has entered the room. He glances at the couch, but chooses not to sit in favor of pacing around in front of the TV. He's agitated, that much is obvious; it reminds Josh of Tyler when he told him about the news report about his escape. It makes him nervous.

A tense silence fills the room. Josh doesn't trust Zach or Maddy, but he trusts Tyler, and Tyler trusts his siblings, so Josh stays where he is. The urge to flee the living room doesn't go away, though, and it only gets worse when Maddy starts talking again.

She's facing Josh directly, a sincere tone to her voice as she gives him her full attention; Josh is reminded, briefly, that Tyler mentioned she trains seeing-eye dogs, and wonders if she looks at them the same way.

"So, Tyler told me some stuff--how you guys got to the lab, and what you can do--but he also said you should be the one to decide how much of what's happened to you that you want to share. We're gonna help you," she adds, with a glance to Zach, though he doesn't return it, "we just need to know what's going on here, you know? Who are we working with?"

Immediately, Josh can feel his throat closing up. It took months for him to fully open up to Tyler about his past, and he's only known Zach and Maddy for a few minutes. It's a long, painful story that he doesn't want to share with just anyone, though Josh knows she has a point.

He tries to summon up the right words to explain, but they don't come out. It feels like the filter between his brain and his mouth is clogged, thick with clotting blood, and nothing of any use can make its way through the mess.

"They made me," is all he manages to get out.

"Who made you do what?"

"They made me," Josh repeats, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Still at his side, Tyler's arm around his waist tightens minutely. "I wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"I was a person. They did something to me, and then I wasn't anymore." His voice rises, cracks. "They took me away from my old life and kept me where they wanted, and they did what they wanted because I wasn't a person, I was an experiment that- they said they created me. I lost a year of my life. I was nobody."

On this last word, he shuts his eyes tight, head bowed slightly, trying not to cry. Tyler murmurs something soft that Josh doesn't quite catch, and the arm around Josh's waist moves up higher to come around his shoulder so he can hold him. Josh is too distressed to care that Tyler is more or less cradling him in front of his family, and he leans into the touch, sniffling.

Maddy seems ready to stop questioning him and let him recover, but Zach's voice lifts from where he continues to pace a few feet away. "Who's they?"

"I-" Josh is afraid to open his eyes, and afraid to keep them closed. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Zach continues, audibly irritated. "You 'lost a year of your life' there and you never saw a name tag, some kind of sign? Anything?"

Tyler's reaction is immediate, something almost like a growl rising in the back of his throat. "Don't push him."

"We need to know what we're dealing with!" Zach insists. "If he's telling the truth, then we're all in danger. If we can identify a name or face or something, then we can at least tie a name to whoever's doing this."

And Josh understands. Zach isn't angry with him, at least he doesn't think so--he's angry with the facility, the people who did this to his brother, and the people who threaten his family's safety. It doesn't make his aggression any less frightening for Josh, but he does understand his reaction.

Then he remembers something. "There was a logo," Josh says. "They had a logo." It was on the sign out front, tucked away next to the county seal; it was small on the back of the clipboards the researchers used to dutifully take notes. The facility's true name and origins have always been hidden to him, but their symbol, hidden as it was, had cropped up in enough places over Josh's year in isolation for him to recognize it for what it was.

"Do you think you could draw it?" Maddy prompts gently, and Josh nods.

Zach stalks off to get a pen and paper. With Tyler's soft encouragement, Josh takes a few deep breaths, resting his chin on Tyler's shoulder and steadying himself by gripping his arm. He's tired and afraid, and the urge to bury his face in Tyler's sweatshirt and hide is a powerful one. It hurts; he hurts.

Zach tosses a notepad and pen on the coffee table, making Josh jump. Zach mutters something--an apology, maybe--and Maddy offers Josh the tools. He holds them gingerly, remembering. This is the same notepad he wrote all those failed 'I'm leaving' notes on, the ones probably still in the kitchen trash can. Was that really only a few days ago?

He takes another breath, then draws the logo. It's a simple thing, a three-pronged fork surrounded by an oval; maybe more of a trident. There's probably a name attached to this logo, some sort of explanation for why they chose this design, but Josh doesn't know it. He hands the paper back to Maddy, and she takes it, giving it a look before passing it on to Zach.

"You should probably rest," Maddy says while Zach studies the paper. "Both of you. It's been a long twenty-four hours."

You're telling me, Josh almost returns, but he holds his tongue. He stands, eager to escape the room and the memories flooding him; and when he does, he's not alone. Tyler is right there at his heels.

Chapter Text

They end up in the spare room, which is more or less what Josh expected. He enters first, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to steady his breathing, to wait out the aching pain that rose up as soon as he stood up from the couch. Tyler follows, leaving the door cracked open for the dogs, then crosses the room to sit beside him.

They're close, shoulders brushing, but neither speaks. Josh lets his eyes close, inhaling and exhaling slowly until his anxiety lessens to something more manageable. His pain, too, eventually fades back into the background, though he's still aware of it if he lets his mind wander too much.

Josh opens his eyes again, and glances towards Tyler; Tyler, who's still here, who's alive despite this whole mess. Tyler looks back at him, offering a weary smile, reminding Josh that he can't be in much better shape. He was tortured and sleep deprived, and of course, he had the butt of a rifle slammed against the back of his head.

"I'm sorry about Zach," Tyler says, finally breaking the silence between them. "He can be kind of intense sometimes, especially when he's upset."

"It's fine." Josh looks down at his lap. "I can't really blame him. If something like this had happened to my brother or sisters..."

He stops. It's been a while since he thought about them, but he knows that's largely because he's trying not to. He doesn't know if they tried to look for him after he disappeared; he knows they probably didn't just shrug and move on, but the possibility haunts him when he lets it.

He can't really afford to think about them. He'd just be dragging them into his world if he tried to find them now, and he's already done that with Tyler. And look where it's gotten them.

"Maddy was right," he says, reluctant to think about it any further. "We should rest."

"She's usually right," Tyler agrees, then pauses before adding, "but don't tell her I said that."

Josh knows he's trying to keep the mood from getting too grim, and he appreciates it, even if it doesn't really fix anything. He lays back on the bed, settling slowly; he swears he can feel his body rearranging itself without his input, trying to find the perfect position to rest in without aggravating his aching muscles.

After a few seconds, Tyler lays down, too. Josh watches as he very carefully rests his head on his pillow, his brows furrowed for a moment before he relaxes.

"You don't have to lay here with me," Josh whispers, like Zack and Maddy are crouched, eavesdropping, outside the bedroom door. "You can go to your room. Or I could..."

He trails off. They're side by side, not touching, but close enough that Josh can feel the warmth of Tyler's presence beside him. Tyler's just looking at him, something unreadable in his gaze, and for whatever reason, Josh doesn't want to ruin this moment with words.

Tyler doesn't kiss him, much as Josh guiltily wishes he would.

"I'd rather stay here with you," Tyler whispers back to him. "If that's okay."

Josh finds himself nodding. He's tempted to reach out, to take Tyler's hand and hold it close to him--some sort of proof that he's really, really here and he's okay--but he holds himself back.

"How much do you remember?" he asks instead.

Tyler's brow furrows again. He's not looking at Josh so much as through him, undoubtedly recalling the events of the past few days. "After getting hit... not so much. I mean, I knew who I was and where we were, but I was stunned, you know? I only pieced things together after they had happened. Couldn't focus on much over the rush in my head."

Josh has never been concussed, to his knowledge, but he has experienced this overwhelming type of pain before. He nods for Tyler to go on.

"I don't remember you morphing, but you must have, 'cause I remember you protecting me." Tyler's eyes have softened now. "Zack came in... we went outside, and you carried me home."

Josh feels like crying. He closes his eyes instead. "You would have done the same for me."

"Yeah." He doesn't jump when he feels Tyler's hand on his arm--not grabbing, just touching, like he needs to know that this is real just as much as Josh does. "Yeah, I would."

Neither of them speaks again, but Josh gives in to the need to be close and lets his head rest on Tyler's shoulder. He's so tired that he's not sure if the faint press of Tyler's lips against his temple is real or not, but either way, it lures him to a quiet, precious place between asleep and awake.

He's aware of everything around him--the bed, the warmth of Tyler beside him, the exhaustion pulling at his bones--but his mind is still and silent. It's the most peace he thinks he's felt for ages.

They stay like that for some time, until finally, Josh hears a car pulling up and the front door opening. The dogs aren't barking, but he can hear their nails on the hardwood as they scamper around, punctuated by footsteps and a scolding, familiar feminine voice.

He feels Tyler shift beside him, not sitting up, but clearly considering it. Josh knows he wants to get up, that he's holding him back; some part of his chest aches at the thought. Tyler's staying because of Josh. He doesn't want to leave him alone.

Still tired, but unwilling to fall asleep, Josh pushes his face into Tyler's neck, not quite nuzzling so much as nudging. He feels more than hears Tyler sigh.

"Go see your mom," Josh softly rasps.

Tyler shifts again, this time leaning into Josh's touch. "You sure?"

"'M good," he says. It's not entirely a lie: he doesn't feel like he's going to panic, or start crying, or morph. He'll be alright so long as Tyler comes back eventually.

There's just a lot to think about.

The tension in his body completely eases, if only for a moment, as Tyler presses a kiss to the side of his head. It feels real this time, and Josh relishes it before Tyler slowly moves to get up.

He watches as Tyler sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes screwed tightly shut, his concussion undoubtedly agitated by the change in position. The guilt from earlier comes back with a vengeance, so heavy and solid on Josh's chest that he feels like he's being crushed.

When he reaches out a hand to grasp Tyler's, he's not entirely sure who it is he's trying to comfort--Tyler, or himself. Either way, Tyler's face softens, and he squeezes Josh's hand in silent appreciation before letting go and getting to his feet.

Tyler goes. Josh stays.

Lying there, staring up at the ceiling, Josh knows this is the part where he's supposed to buck up and run off for good. Except, he should have done that ages ago; it's too late now. Now the facility has found Tyler; they know where he lives, and he knows too much. Even if they catch Josh again, they won't leave Tyler alone.

And what of Tyler's siblings? He doesn't know how much of their morphing the researchers and soldiers saw--at least in terms of the process--but they definitely faced the aftermath. They know now that natural morphs can, and do, exist. Not only that, but those morphs know Tyler and Josh, somehow, and sought them out, and saved them. Josh doesn't know what they'll do with this information.

The facility is a scattered mess for now, but it can't last; the researchers will gather together again, collect their soldiers or just find new ones. After everything that's happened, they're not just going to let this go. Josh doesn't know what to do about it. In a dark, heavy part of his heart, he's not sure there's anything he can do.

The only thing he is sure of, now, is that as long as whatever holds up the facility and its researchers remains, none of them will be safe again.

Chapter Text

Dinner isn't exactly awkward, but nobody's talking much, either. Tyler's mother makes some casserole with the ingredients she got from the store, and the dining room is silent but for the scrape of forks on plates and the occasional sniff or shuffle from one of the dogs.

Zach is the one to finally break the quiet, surprising Josh. "Haven't found anything yet," he says, looking down at his plate. "But I'm sorting through any company or corporation that has a logo like the one Josh drew. I'll call my friend at the police department tomorrow, see if he can-"

"Don't," Josh blurts out.

He hadn't meant to interrupt, but it's too late. Zach is looking at him. "Why not?"

"It's not-" he pushes a bite of casserole around on his plate, trying to collect the spike of panic that's just struck him. "They're working with them."

Zach looks skeptical, but Tyler steps into the conversation before he can question him any further. "He's right. That's how they got me; a cop pulled me over on the way to work." His voice is calm and clear, but Josh can see the urgency in his eyes. "I don't know if they're working with the police, or if they're just using them as a front to find Josh, but we can't trust them."

Zach is still looking at Josh, almost like he's studying his face. It must hit him, because he drops his fork on his plate with a clatter, standing up so suddenly that his chair makes a loud scrape on the floor. "I knew you looked familiar!"

Josh flinches.

"Zach, sit down," Tyler's mother says.

"You've seen him, too," Zach insists, remaining on his feet. "On the news. You're Josh Dun. You're the one they're looking for."

Kelly's tone is sharper this time. "Sit. Down. Then you can explain."

Reluctant, Zach does as he's told. Josh tries to control his racing heartbeat as Tyler's brother continues. "He's an escaped convict. They said he's crazy and he probably killed someone in town. There's a reward and everything. You haven't seen the mugshots?"

"He's not a killer," Tyler snaps, sharp and defensive.

"Both of you, quiet," Kelly orders, and to Josh's relief, they listen. "No, I haven't seen the mugshots; you know I can't stand the news. I'll admit, I heard his name on the radio, but-" She glances to Josh, here, something unreadable in her gaze. "-I didn't make the connection until just now. Josh, is this true?"

Josh, meanwhile, is speechless. He doesn't know whether he wants to run away or burst into tears. "I didn't kill anybody," he mumbles, looking down at his half eaten casserole. "I swear to god, I didn't. I'm not what they said I am."

"But that is you in the pictures," Zach says. "Right?."

And quietly, Josh admits, "Yes. I'm Josh Dun. That's me."

The sharp scrape of a chair moving across the wood floor fills Josh's ears again, but this time, it isn't Zach. Tyler's on his feet, now, and he looks furious. His hands are gripping the edge of the table, glare settled firmly on Zach.

"He's not a convict, or a killer," Tyler insists. "You saw him morph. You know he's one of us."

"I've never seen one of us like him before," Zach points out.

"Because they made him. He ran away, and they put out a fake alert saying he's a criminal and a lunatic so people will be afraid of him, so they'll be looking for him." Tyler's voice is low, but firm. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. You broke us out of there; you saw that place. They found me and dragged me to their facility because they thought I might know where he was. They'll do anything to get him back."

His voice only wavers as his grip on the table does, like he's exerted all the energy he has. Slowly wilting, Tyler says, "Josh is one of us. We have to protect him."

Tyler steps away from the table, and before anyone can stop him, he turns and stalks out of the kitchen and down the hall.

As soon as it sinks in, Josh gets up from his chair--to go after Tyler--but Kelly stops him. "It's alright," she says. "Stay and finish your food. I'll talk to him."

He's tempted to ignore her, but he's still on the edge of panic himself, and he's not sure if he can calm Tyler down with the state he's in. This is Tyler's mom; if anyone knows how to talk him down, it's her, if Tyler's stories of his teenage morphings are true.

He gives her a slight nod, and she smiles wearily at him before disappearing down the hall. Josh's half eaten meal is waiting for him, but now the idea of food makes his stomach twist, too fraught with anxiety to eat.

Distressed, Josh mumbles the first thing that comes to mind, abandoning dinner for the back door. "Gonna- need some fresh air."

And it is fresh, cold and crisp and startling the moment he opens the sliding glass door and the air hits his face. He pushes on, though, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps away from the house, away from the mess he blames himself for.

Josh won't go far, though, because Tyler's home has become his home, too, for better or for worse. After standing blearily on the porch for a moment, he takes a seat on the back steps. Ahead of him lies the forest, dark and unknown and beautiful all in equal measure. The light from the kitchen washes the outdoors in a dim yellow light, only petering out at the treeline.

Some part of him wants to morph, to run off into the woods and play pretend with Tyler, to forget that fate is closing its grip around his throat. But he isn't even sure if he physically can morph, so soon after the fractured incident before it. Besides, without Tyler at his side, it wouldn't feel right.

Staring out at the forest, Josh still aches.

He doesn't jump when he hears the back door sliding open some time later, though he's aware of it. More immediate to him is the sound of nails on wood, a swift pace, and before he can so much as turn to look, Jim is shoving into his side, licking Josh's arm and his cheek and anywhere else he can reach.

Josh shuts his eyes and screws up his face against the well-meant onslaught, but doesn't push the dog away. Jim sits right up against his side, fluffy tail wagging as he nudges his head against Josh's knee, practically begging for attention.

His fur is soft, almost silky, and he seems more than happy to let Josh pet him as much as he likes. It's a soothing, rhythmic act, something innocent. Jim knows something is wrong, but he doesn't know what or why. He knows nothing of burns and injections and night terrors, because he's a dog. All he knows is that Josh is upset, and he wants to try to make him feel better.

"Wow," comes a voice, and this time Josh does jump, because he hadn't heard anyone come outside. She must have, though, when she let Jim out; she, because it isn't Tyler. It's Maddy.

She approaches at an angle, not moving directly towards him as she grows nearer, eventually taking a seat on the edge of the porch next to him. Did Tyler tell her about his aversion to touch? Did he tell her that he needs it just as much as he fears it? That he can't sleep unless he's in Tyler's arms? How much does she really know?

"I've never seen him like that before," Maddy says, looking at Jim. "He kept whining at the door so I let him out, and he just made a beeline right for you. He always used to take off and sniff all over the yard when I let him off the lead."

And Josh remembers something. "You train seeing eye dogs," he manages. "He flunked the class."

"That's right."

Jim pushes his head against Josh's hand again; his fingers have stilled in his fur. Josh goes back to petting again. "He's a good dog," he says, and nothing else.

"Yeah, he is."

They're both quiet for a moment. Josh tries to busy his mind by petting Jim, focusing on how it feels to run his fingers through his fur, to ground himself in this place and this time. He's here, at Tyler's house. Tyler isn't here, but he's inside, and he's safe enough for now, safe enough for Josh's heart to stop racing like the soldiers are charging through the treeline straight towards the only sanctuary he has.

"The doctor said it might happen," Maddy says at last. She, too, is looking out at the forest, and Josh briefly wonders if the shadows look menacing to her, too. "Agitation. It's a side effect of the concussion. The headaches probably don't help, either. He doesn't say it, but I know it hurts."

Now that he's staring, he can't stop. The dark forest--the trouble ahead--looms over him. Josh swallows. "Yeah."

Maddy's tone is gentle. "Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

Josh's distress has shrunk back down, but it still remains somewhere in his chest, behind his ribs, unreachable. The trees are staring back at him, and he can't stand it anymore. He gets to his feet abruptly, taking a step back.

"I want to go inside," Josh says slowly, no longer sure what he wants at all. He only breaks his gaze from the unknown to turn back towards the house, Jim at his heels, and Tyler's sister not far behind.

Chapter Text

Even with Tyler by his side, it's hard for Josh to sleep.

He doesn't toss and turn, doesn't fidget or fuss; physically speaking, he's comfortable, and he's not alone. The barrier between him and getting some rest is much more of a mental block.

Over and over, Josh wracks his brain for a way to save everyone, diving to the desperate depths of his mind in search of any possibility that he can get Tyler and his family out of this mess, but each time he comes up empty-handed, his lungs feeling like they're going to burst.

At least Tyler's asleep. It took him a while to get there, but Josh stayed by him, holding him and letting himself be held. Around midnight, he finally heard snoring.

Some selfish part of Josh wishes that he were the one asleep, or that Tyler were still awake to keep his grim thoughts at bay. But Tyler needs this; he needs rest. If Josh can give him nothing else, at least he can give him that.

That, and whatever protection he can offer. He knows the beast is still there, somewhere in the back of his head, though it's weak after the near instantaneous morphing in the facility. He knows it's there because the instinct to protect, the drive to keep Tyler safe, is at an all time high.

Based on what happened at dinner earlier, perhaps Tyler is feeling it, too. Maybe it's their bond, defensiveness reflecting off each other like mirrors. It's just another thing Josh doesn't have an answer for.

The facility may be in shambles now, but it won't last. They'll regroup, come together, and they'll seek him and Tyler out again. They're a small group, he's fairly certain--he's overheard enough talk of investors and worries about funding to know they aren't backed by a serious corporation, or at least not a seriously rich one.

Small as the people behind this mess are, they're very persistent. They've put too much time and effort into Josh to let him go now. He knows better than to hope that they'll forget about Tyler, either; he's a liability at best, a threat at worst. They still seem to think he's controlling Josh's morph in some way. If they think they can get him to work with them, they'll never leave him alone. But if they can't...

Josh's mind is so wracked with worries that it takes him a moment to notice Tyler's fidgeting in his sleep. He fell asleep with a hand on Josh's side, but now it's curled tightly into a fist, gripping Josh's t-shirt. Josh opens his eyes, briefly blind in the dark, until his gaze settles on Tyler's face.

His brows are furrowed, and his face scrunched up--no, he's wincing, like he's in pain. His body is suddenly tense against Josh's, muscles drawn tight, eyes tightly shut. His other hand is twitching, like he's reaching for something, so Josh holds it. Tyler immediately grips him tight, like a lifeline, and leans forward into Josh, pressing his face into Josh's neck.

Josh is frozen, at first, unsure what to make of all this. Tyler's still asleep, he's fairly sure... he must be dreaming.

And then he hears it: a high, quiet noise from Tyler's throat. Paired with the way his body is beginning to tremble, the way he's holding on for life, Josh realizes what's happening. Tyler's not dreaming. He's having a nightmare.

Because the quiet noises he's making are whimpers, and the dampness against Josh's neck is the unmistakable sting of tears. It's not the violent fright that seizes Josh during his own nightmares, but there's no way this dream can be a happy one.

The beast, stuck somewhere out of reach, suddenly stirs. Instinct doesn't take over Josh's body--he remains Josh--but it guides him, nudging him towards that protective state. Slow and careful, Josh wraps his arms around Tyler's shaking body, holding him to his chest. One hand rests on Tyler's back, the other moving up to his hair, remembering the way Tyler does the same thing to him when he's distressed.

He doesn't wake Tyler up, afraid it might frighten him or even lead to an unwanted morphing, but as Josh holds him, Tyler slowly begins to come back to him on his own. His trembling eases a little, his grip loosening on Josh's shirt as he sniffles.

Josh feels like his heart is being cleaved in two. He remains silent as Tyler exhales a shaky breath against the collar of his shirt, trying to collect himself. He tries to think of something reassuring to say, maybe It's okay or Everything will be alright, but neither feels completely honest.

"I've got you," he whispers instead, holding him, because it's true. "I've got you. You're here with me."

It takes time and patience for Tyler's cries to stop, for his breath to go from quiet, choked off sobs to something slow and even. Josh has never had to comfort him like this before, but he pays attention to how Tyler responds to him, whether his efforts seem to help or hinder. Fortunately, it's the former.

His voice still cracks when he speaks, though, and he keeps himself firmly wedged into Josh's space.

"Bad dream," Tyler mutters. What an understatement.

"I know," Josh answers, and he does. He's had nightmares about the facility starting long before he was able to escape it; it's a terrible place, and Tyler has not only just been introduced to it, he was forced to endure it alone, if only for a short time.

Josh knows what that isolation feels like. He had long accepted that he was alone there, would silently repeat over and over in his head that nobody was coming for him, like a mantra.

He never wanted Tyler to feel that isolated, nor that hurt; but he has, now, and he can't take that pain away from him. Swallowing, he runs his fingers through Tyler's hair again, and doesn't say anything else.

"I was there," Tyler says quietly, after a few moments have passed. "You were there too, but I couldn't see anything. I knew you were there because I could hear you, and I could hear what they were doing to you, but I couldn't move, and my head hurt so much..."

"You're here now," Josh murmurs. "We're here."

Tyler burrows his face further into the crook of Josh's neck, and doesn't respond. His breathing is back to normal, his body far less rigid in Josh's arms, but Josh knows the memory of his nightmare--the memories of the facility--won't leave him so easily.

"My head hurts," Tyler whispers to the dark.

"Your mom left some pills on the table for you." Josh gently shifts, pushing Tyler's hair out of his eyes as he sits up. "Let me up, I'll get them for you."

Tyler does as he's told. Tyler takes the pills in one hand, the glass of water Josh gives him in the other, and he swallows. He drains the glass, too, and Josh carefully sets it on the nightstand before slipping beneath the blankets again.

Tyler is there immediately, no longer panicked, but still seeking comfort, seeking touch, as if to remind himself that they're here, and that this moment is real. Josh lets him snuggle right back into place, and he presses his lips to Tyler's temple as he sighs.

By some miracle, eventually, they both manage to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

It's morning, and Josh wakes to find himself alone. He sits up fast, panic grasping his heart tightly for one terrible, endless moment before he realizes that he can hear Tyler's voice down the hall. He's still here. They're both still here.

Taking a few seconds to calm down, Josh slowly gets out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt to stave off the morning chill. The aching pains he's been experiencing haven't disappeared, but as he crosses the room towards the door, he's relieved to find that they're easier to ignore today.

What's less easy to ignore is the rising voices down the hall. Emerging from the bedroom, Josh is faced with what he more or less expected: Tyler and Zack are arguing, talking over each other rapidly, each clearly frustrated with the other. Tyler's hands are clenched into fists at his side, and Zack's arms are crossed firmly over his chest.

Some meek part of Josh tells him to get out of here before things get messy--to spare himself the trouble--but this is his mess, indirectly or otherwise. Backing out has never been an option, and he won't leave them to fight like this.

Tyler whips around when Josh puts a hand on his shoulder, clearly still worked up, but some of the tension in his face lessens when he sees Josh. The bickering abruptly stops, and Zack mutters something under his breath that Josh doesn't quite catch.

Quietly, Josh prompts, "What's going on?"

But it's too late to hear both sides; Zack quickly takes the interruption as an opportunity to escape the situation, not that Josh can really blame him for it. Without his brother to face off against, Tyler scowls at the floor instead. "He doesn't get it."

Though some part of Josh fears Tyler's anger, he knows it's not directed at him. His thumb smooths over the sleeve of Tyler's shirt. "Doesn't get what?"

Tyler is still scowling. "He keeps saying we should sit back and wait instead of making some kind of strike now, while they're trying to regroup."

"Has he found any useful information yet?"

Tyler shakes his head. "Nothing they haven't been showing on the news."

"The news?"

"We kind of left a mess. Emergency crews showed up, and then the news vans." He sniffs. "They definitely don't know what happened, just that something did. The phrase 'illegal animal experimentation' has been tossed around, but that's as close as they've gotten."

Josh knows the only animal that was ever being held at that place was him, but he holds his tongue. "So what do you think we should do?"

"I don't know, get out there and do something!" Tyler gestures vaguely. "The longer we wait, the more time they have to collect themselves again. We can't just-" His voice cracks. He's not crying, but he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "I can't just..."

His heart hurting, Josh squeezes Tyler's shoulder. When Tyler leans into the touch, he takes it further, carefully maneuvering Tyler's arms around him until they're wrapped up together in an embrace. It's the kind of hug you use to comfort someone when they're afraid, when they're facing an enemy they have no weapons against.

It won't save them, but still, they hold each other.

"I can't just sit here and let them come back for you," Tyler manages. He's still tense, but he sighs quietly when Josh encourages him with a hand on the back of his neck, guiding him into resting his forehead on Josh's shoulder.

His selfless confession makes Josh feel better and worse all at once. Tyler would risk his life, his freedom, for Josh's. Tyler would throw it all away to save him. To have someone in his life who cares about him so much, who would get hurt or worse for him... here, in this space, where the possibility is very real, it feels agonizing.

Still, Josh would do the same for him. Josh has done the same for him: he came back to the facility of his own volition, offering himself in Tyler's stead. It was horrible going back there, but he knows why he did it. He'd do it again, too, if he had to.

It's trust again, rearing its beautiful-ugly head, making itself known to both of them.

They share a moment of that trust, here, in the hallway. Reluctant to break it, Josh murmurs, "You took a blow to the head."

He feels Tyler's hand move up from where it's rested on his chest, fingers skimming. Gentle as anything, he brushes against the bandage on Josh's cheek. Tyler didn't even patch him up, but Josh swears he touches him with as much reverence as if he'd hurt him himself; like he's trying to apologize.

"You took a scalpel to the face for me," Tyler says.

And he remembers it, though not very well. He was morphed, he was something else, and all he knew was that they were trying to hurt Tyler, and that he couldn't let them. So he got in between them. So he sunk his teeth into flesh and tossed a human being into the wall like a terrier throwing a rat. The pain didn't really register.

Now it's Josh's turn to rest his head, exhaling a sigh against Tyler's shoulder. "I was so disoriented. I hardly felt it; I still hardly remember it."

"You took it for me," Tyler echoes. He doesn't ask to see the wound, doesn't pull at the bandage. He just rests his hand there. Josh wants to lean into it, but resists the urge.

"They already got you once. I couldn't let them get you again." Tentative, he admits, "I can't let them get you."

Tyler is quiet.

"You need to recover, too. If you can't stand it, help your brother try to figure out who's behind the facility. But don't-" Josh feels like he's choking on the words. "Don't go back without me."

Tyler pulls back far enough for them to stare each other in the face. He looks pained. "You don't have to go back there. You shouldn't..."

You shouldn't have to do this, Josh's mind finishes for him, but he doesn't say it aloud. What's the point? This isn't about what he wants, or even really what he can manage. It's about finishing this.

"We both need to rest, if we can," Josh says, soft, but a little steadier than before. "Then we'll take them."

Tyler doesn't answer him verbally, just lets his eyes slip closed. Josh echoes the action, and when he feels Tyler's lips on the bridge of his nose, tender and gentle, he doesn't flinch.

Chapter Text

As unpleasant as the idea of leaving is, Josh knows they can't stay here. They may not know who's behind the facility, but they know they're persistent. As soon as they recover--as soon as they come after them again--Tyler's cabin is the first place they'll look.

Though Tyler's mother offers, Tyler adamantly refuses to stay with his parents. It's not hard to understand why, at least to Josh; he doesn't want to put them in any more danger than he already has. In the end, they find a compromise: Tyler's parents will dog sit for the time being.

This, of course, means the dogs won't be going wherever Tyler and Josh are. This pains Josh more than he'd like to admit, but he knows better than to argue. He wants them to be safe, too.

Zack is the one who gets them set up in a motel on the edge of town. It's not exactly luxurious--the paint is faded, the parking lot is full of potholes, and the sign out front weakly flickers the word MOEL. But they're staying here because it's inconspicuous, a place the researchers will have to dig up to find them. The longer they can rest and recover, the better.

The inside is about the same as the outside--faded carpet, holes in the shower tiles, and a flickering alarm clock are there to greet them. Josh already misses the guest room.

"Maddy and I will bring you groceries whenever," Zack says, standing in the doorway. "You know my number."

Tyler's already sat down on the edge of the bed; he doesn't say so, but Josh can tell he's tired. "Yeah. You'll let me know-"

"-if I find anything," Zack finishes. "And you'll let me know if you need anything."

Tyler nods a little, his brow furrowed slightly. Josh busies himself with stuffing their belongings in the dresser drawers under the TV; it's clothes, mostly. Josh doesn't really have anything to his name.

Zack is pointing at him when he looks up, though not accusingly. "And you'll let me know if his head gets any worse," he says, of Tyler.

Zack still makes him a little anxious, but Josh knows he's just being protective of his family. The fact that he's relying on him to take care of Tyler doesn't pass him by.

Josh wonders if Zack trusts him. Maybe he's trying to.

"My head is fine," Tyler insists. Zack shrugs it off, but looks back to Josh again when Tyler grabs the remote. It's clear that he's still waiting for an answer, whether Tyler agrees with him or not. So Josh nods.

Zack leaves once he's sure they're settled, though Josh doesn't feel that way. Physically, he's tired--would like nothing more than to curl up on the faded but fairly clean blankets of the motel bed and fall asleep--but mentally, he's restless.

He understands, he thinks, Tyler's urge to get out there, to track down whoever is behind the facility and end this. He knows better than to give into it when he's still recovering from everything, but he still feels it.

The TV is playing old Friends reruns; even as he stares blankly in the mirror over the sink, even as his mind paces, Josh can hear the laugh track. Tyler turns the volume down, like he's going to say something, but he doesn't.

Josh's eyes drift. It's your standard motel room layout, with the sink in the hall outside the bathroom instead of inside it, and the counter is blank save for a coffee machine that Josh already knows is going to sputter. His eyes move from the machine back to the mirror, but he's not looking at his reflection anymore.

He's looking at Tyler, sitting back on the bed but not quite laying down--reclining--one leg pulled up to his chest and the other straight out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. There's no reason for him to stay up, and for a moment, Josh just looks at Tyler's reflection in the mirror, and wonders why he doesn't just give in to his exhaustion and sleep while he can.

And then Tyler's eyes flick from the TV to Josh, and now they're staring at one another through the mirror. Tyler's expression is something tired and gentle. He still doesn't talk, but when he tilts his head, just a little, inviting, Josh doesn't need him to. He knows what he means.

The curtains are closed, and the door is locked. This place is unfamiliar, but safe for now.

Josh goes to him. Everything is slow, not quite lazy; there's no rush as Tyler wraps his arms around Josh, nor as Josh moves to settle against Tyler's body. They're tired, but restless. The only thing keeping them tethered to this room is each other.

The motel room looks and sounds and smells different from Tyler's home, and Josh misses it. But Tyler is here, and he looks and sounds and smells like Tyler, so it isn't so bad. In fact, the longer they lay together, the more comfortable Josh feels, until he's so drowsy he thinks he really could fall asleep, even thought it's the middle of the day.

He won't, though, not 'til he's sure Tyler does. And though it takes a while--takes gentle touches and languid kisses and more than a few episodes of Friends--eventually, Tyler's thumb stills where it was absently rubbing one of Josh's ribs. Eventually, Tyler sleeps, and only once he's sure does Josh allow himself to do the same.

Chapter Text

It's neither fair nor easy, but the days do pass. It was one thing to be in Tyler's house, with space to move about and the dogs to distract him, and the motel is lacking in both of these.

Tyler's siblings bring food and other supplies, as promised. They have running water, and comfortable places to sleep; there's a TV and a little desk by the window.

But that's about it. Their room is small, and almost immediately Josh knows it's going to be a problem, internally.

His enclosure at the facility was small, too. For over a year, it was the only space he had. Then, he escaped, and Tyler's home--his forest--became Josh's. He could roam the house; he could go outside if he wanted, knowing Tyler might worry, but wouldn't stop him.

Physically, nothing is stopping Josh from leaving here, now, either. No, what's keeping Josh here is the knowledge that, if he leaves, he'll be visible to the outside world, and with it, the people behind the facility.

He doesn't doubt they're looking for them. Not just him, either; they seemed to believe--or at least the one researcher did--that Tyler had 'tamed' him, that he could be 'the key' to getting Josh to work with them. They know he cares about Tyler, having returned to the facility in search of him, having morphed to protect him.

And now, there's undeniable proof that morphs outside of Josh exist. Tyler did not morph that day, perhaps, but Maddy and Jay did, and the researchers saw that up close. Josh doesn't doubt that, should they capture him or Tyler again, drilling them for information on natural morphs will be one of the first things they do.

Josh won't talk, and he knows Tyler won't, either. This means that recapture means certain interrogation, if not outright torture. The thought of going through that--of Tyler going through that--haunts the edges of Josh's mind.

He knows they already hurt Tyler trying to get information about him, and the guilt of it gnaws at him.

Josh won't say it out loud, not wanting to stress Tyler out further after his concussion. In the increasingly rare moments where he is alone--when one of them is in the bathroom, mostly, thanks to the aforementioned small motel room--this guilt makes itself known to him. He tries to hide it when Tyler is present, but combined with the weight of everything else, Josh feels like he's being slowly crushed to death.

Like all bad things eventually do, it comes to a breaking point. Tyler is in the shower; Josh's beast hates whenever he steps out of its sight, but he's able to manage it with distractions, and tonight, that distraction is the television.

They usually watch whatever's on--sitcoms, comedies, slice-of-life family shows. There aren't too many options, really, but Josh still finds himself scrolling through the channels, a cycle his hands perform without his input. The remote is in his hand; he presses the channel down button, waits a few beats for the program in front of him to absorb, then repeats.

He doesn't even know what he's looking for until he finds it. Or, maybe he wasn't looking for it. What Josh does know is that the cycle stops dead in its tracks at the scene in front of him--a local news station, a young woman talking in a half-interested voice about some kind of break in. And there, in the corner of the screen, the image of the facility burns Josh's gaze.

Authorities are still investigating the incident that occurred last Friday at the Clinton County Center for Wastewater Treatment. While it's clear that some sort of break in occurred, followed by retaliation, it's unclear who was involved or why.

Josh leans forward from his seat on the edge of the bed, rapt despite the distress clawing its way out of his chest.

Sources have confirmed that there was an animal attack, though the species has yet to be identified. Based on the tracks left behind, biologists have estimated that they were likely canine or feline in origin. Josh supposes that's half true, at least. No animal sightings or attacks have been reported as of yet, but anyone witnessing unusual animals or animal behavior is encouraged to call the police.

Not for the first time, Josh is left doubting the police. Tyler said that someone dressed in a uniform 'arrested' him when he left for work the day he was taken, but Josh doesn't know if that person was an actual police officer or disguised as one. It's too risky to trust them, even if he wishes he could.

Authorities are working with the theory that activists infiltrated an illegal animal testing facility, releasing the animals and damaging equipment. The researchers behind the facility retaliated, as shown by the resulting carnage, but it's not clear if the activists faced any casualties. The woman's tone never changes, even as she says, Eleven people reportedly associated with the facility have been treated for non-life-threatening injuries, while one person has been hospitalized for severe physical trauma, and is stabilizing according to doctors.

The memories of what happened after he morphed are still blurry on the edges, but they are there, and as soon as he hears it, Josh knows exactly who the news anchor is talking about.

One of the researchers--Josh doesn't know any of them by name--was in charge that day, at least in that room where they took Josh's blood and tried to usher him back to his cell and hit Tyler so hard they gave him a concussion. After Josh morphed, he'd knocked them backward, but they'd gotten back up, awed by the sight of their creation.

You have so much promise, they'd said. Then Tyler had made a noise, and the animal that is not Josh had turned to protect him. The researcher had misinterpreted this as Tyler controlling him, and had tried to persuade Tyler to work with them instead of against them. Tyler had refused.

We will get the results we're after, they'd said, then, and lunged. Josh still doesn't know who they were trying to attack--him or Tyler--but he was finally morphed, uncaged, and in a room with someone who had spent the last year torturing him. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt him, not now, and certainly not Tyler.

Josh remembers the animal that is not Josh grabbing the researcher in its jaws and throwing them against the wall, hard.

He may not know any of the researchers by name, but he knows their faces. He knows the sounds of their voices, the way they talk and move and act. He knows they're as much human as they are monster, and as much as he hates them, as much as he wants them all to die--the memory of what he'd nearly done smashes into Josh as hard as plaster and drywall.

He only knows he's fucked up when a cloud of steam washes out of the bathroom, when Tyler stands in the space outside with a towel around his waist and his hair dark and wet, staring at him. Josh only knows he's fucked up when Tyler crouches beside him, huddled on the floor, sobbing, only half able to see through the tears, through the guilt of it all. He knows he's fucked up when Tyler holds him, still-damp fingers running through Josh's curls, letting him bury his face in his bare chest.

What Josh doesn't know, by the end of the night, is whether the people he's hurt--incidental or otherwise, good or bad--will forgive him if he can't even forgive himself.

Chapter Text

Whether it's the innate connection between their morphs or simply the fact that they've been through this cycle together before, Josh knows Tyler needs to morph again before he actually admits it.

He's already clingy, though this in itself isn't the only sign of things to come. Josh is clingy, too; after everything, neither wants to go far from the other, lest they lose them again. There isn't really anywhere to go, anyway, seeing as their motel room is pretty small, but more often than not they're touching--Josh leans his head on Tyler's shoulder, Tyler rests his hand on Josh's knee, and so on.

Anyway, it isn't just the clinginess that cues him in. It's the restlessness, the way he fidgets with his sleeve, fingers twisted into the edge of the blanket. He sleeps, and he isn't in pain--at least as far as he tells Josh--but he can't seem to settle completely.

He's also eating like a starving man, and evidently, Josh isn't the only one who's noticed.

Zack's the one to bring it up, on one of his brief visits to the motel to bring food and clean clothes. Mostly, the food is homemade--Tyler's mom has made sure of that--but today, Zack picked up Taco Bell on the way over. It's been a long time since Josh has had fast food, and he savors every bite. He's so engrossed in his taco, in fact, that he almost misses Zack speaking up.

"When's the last time you morphed, dude?"

Tyler doesn't even look up from his food. Josh swallows the last bite of his taco and answers for him. "I think it's- we morphed a day or two before they took him."

Zack is looking at him now. "Like, together?"

Josh swallows again, more out of nervousness this time, but he won't lie. "Yeah. I morphed when you guys broke in to get us, so it was a few days before that."

He thinks back to when Tyler first explained his morphing, back when the idea of someone who wasn't Josh who was able to morph was terrifying and new. I normally morph once a week, on one of my nights off. It's been over a week now, hasn't it? And if he goes for too long without it...

But Zack doesn't say anything else about it, just nods his head slightly while Tyler finishes his food. Josh doesn't even know if Tyler overheard them; maybe Josh should bring it up, but now Tyler is grinning and thanking his brother for bringing dinner, and Josh doesn't want to ruin it.

By the time Zack has left, the idea of morphing has slipped Josh's mind. He's in bed with Tyler, and all the lights are off; like any other night, the TV is the only visible glow in the room. Josh knows they're not safe, not really, but the volume is on low, and he's well-fed, and Tyler is lightly stroking his arm as Josh rests his head on his chest, and there's no real reason for him to stay awake, so he doesn't.

He doesn't know how long it's been before he stirs again, but he's groggy. Exhaustion grips him firmly, tries to guide him into laying back down, but Josh is awake for a reason. He blinks hard a few times, trying to get his bearings.

It only takes a heartbeat after that for him to realize what's wrong.

Tyler is still laying down, still asleep--or at least he should be. They're fairly close together, not having drifted far since they first laid down, and as Josh becomes coherent, he realizes what's wrong. Tyler's trembling. He must be having another nightmare.

Except, when Josh reaches a tentative hand out to touch him, Tyler rasps his name.

"Yeah." Josh blinks again, eyes adjusting to the dark, though he still can't see much. "Yeah, it's me."

"Wha's wrong?" Tyler mumbles. He's still trembling. "Someone here?"

"Just us." Josh moves his hand from Tyler's arm upwards, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

He knows he isn't. It's immediate, and instinctual, and as he comes to recognize the discomfort in Tyler just now, he realizes that the beast is the one that woke him. It isn't pushing at the boundaries between them, not fully, not even really testing, just trying to take care of something. To take care of Tyler.

Tyler's still trembling when Josh holds his hand. "Fine," he says.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not long."

"You're shaking."

"Cold."

"You feel warm to me."

Tyler doesn't answer, just closes his eyes when Josh gently presses their linked fingers to his chest. It's hard to say for sure, but Tyler doesn't look or sound like he's been sleeping peacefully tonight. He's shaky, and he has a low fever, and he's a little sweaty, and Josh would bet his muscles ache, too, because he has felt this way before, and he knows exactly what this is.

"You need to morph," Josh tells him quietly.

Tyler still doesn't say anything for a long moment, eyes shut, and were he not still shaking like a leaf, Josh might think he was finally able to fall asleep. He waits, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Tyler's palm in a careful attempt at comfort, at encouragement.

"Can't," Tyler mutters at last. "Motel."

Josh knows he's right; they can't do this, not here. Their room is small enough for the two of them, and would be even smaller for two morphs. No room to move, to pace, to run. They need to get out whatever energy they're able to in order to be sated, and there's no way that can happen in this space.

But Josh can't see Tyler suffering like this, not on top of everything else that's been happening. He knows what it feels like to have trouble after trouble piled up on your shoulders 'til your back aches with the weight of it, 'til you can barely stand on your own. He can't rest until he knows some of that weight is eased.

Gingerly, he lets Tyler go, sitting up fully and reaching for the nightstand. At Tyler's murmur of protest, Josh re-initiates the contact, resting their clasped hands on his knee as he presses the phone to his ear with his shoulder and dials a number he's spent the last few days memorizing.

He's only called twice before, just to let Zack know when they needed clean clothes or toothpaste, but this isn't like those times. The buttons on the receiver glow dimly; Josh hopes he hasn't dialed the wrong number by mistake.

It rings once, twice, three times before someone picks up. The voice on the other end is muffled, irritated, but still recognizable. "Hello?" It's Zack.

"Zack." He shuts his eyes, squeezes Tyler's hand. "It's Josh."

"Josh," Zack repeats, as though he's trying to remember who, exactly, Josh is. "You know it's past midnight, right?" Then his tone changes. "Is Tyler alright? Are you both okay?"

"We're okay, but Tyler- he hasn't..." He hesitates to use the phrase that comes to mind. He doesn't know if anyone's listening. "You know, in over a week. He's shaking, and I think he has a fever." Josh pauses again. "I wouldn't bother you if it weren't important, and I know we can't do that in the motel, but I don't know what else to do to help him."

There's a pause from Zack as he absorbs the information. Josh waits, impatient but silent, holding Tyler's hand.

At last, movement on the other line. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," Zack says, a bit gruffly. "Put some shoes on him and have him ready."

Josh doesn't know what Zack plans to do, or if it's even a good idea, but he does know Tyler trusts him; so, Josh will have to, too. "Thank you," he says into the phone. The line clicks.

Carefully, Josh puts the phone back on the receiver. For whatever reason, it's hard for him to look at Tyler directly, but when he hears him make a soft noise, he has to look--has to make sure he's okay.

So Josh looks at him. Tyler is still laying there, half covered by the blankets, fingers linked with Josh's and resting on his knee. His eyes are open, bleary, and there's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Tyler looks right back at him.

Tyler looks right back at him as he says, "You didn't have to do that."

Something in Tyler's eyes is so soft, so tender, that there's no point trying to brush it off. If Josh has ever questioned whether or not Tyler truly cares about him, this is the time where he knows those fears are unfounded. Any excuse or explanation as to why he would seek aid for Tyler dies within him.

There's nothing he can say to entirely express all he'd do for him, so Josh doesn't bother. He squeezes his hand, instead, and slides to the edge of the bed to put his feet on the floor.

By the time Zack arrives, they're both properly dressed. Tyler is fine to stand and move on his own; he's just a little shaky, a little unsteady. Josh can't help fretting over him, anyway, and the instinctive urge to protect him only spikes higher when the knock on the motel door comes.

Zack clearly isn't in much of a mood to hang around, not that Josh can really blame him. He looks like he just fell out of bed.

He ushers Tyler out the door, his car parked just outside. Something like panic grabs at Josh, so he in turn grabs at Tyler's sleeve, tethering them together. Tyler lets him.

"You're both coming?" Zack presses.

With a quick glance to Josh for confirmation, Tyler nods his head. If Zack has any thoughts about it, he's not sharing them; instead, he closes the motel room door behind them, leads them to the car. It's late and there's no obvious activity in the parking lot, but Josh gets it. He's paranoid, too.

"Where are we going?" he asks once they're on the road.

"Silver Lake." Zack doesn't take his eyes off the road. "It's been a while, but we used to go there when we were kids."

From his place in the back seat, Josh can see Tyler brighten a bit in the rear view mirror. "Remember when we practically ran into that skunk?"

"Hard to forget. We smelled like shit for weeks."

It's not long before they've passed the last streetlight, and the dark, overcast night swallows them like fog. Josh knows this isn't a big town, but they must be more rural than he thought, because soon the only true light is contained within and coming from the car. It's unnerving, and... somehow, oddly comforting.

Zack pulls the car into a turnout and kills the engine. Tyler's already opening his door, so Josh opens his, too, and steps out into the dark. He can't see the moon, and for the first time, he wonders if it would have any effect on him if it were a full one.

Probably not. Josh is about as much a werewolf as a dog is a hyena.

"Here." Zack's gotten out of the car, too, offering Josh a tote bag. "'Couple blankets for whenever you guys morph back. It's cold tonight."

Tyler's leaning into his shoulder, shuddering, as Josh takes the bag. "You're not coming?"

Zack snorts, shakes his head. "You guys have fun, though, alright?" Josh can't tell if he's being serious or not.

"You're coming to pick us up later, right?" Josh doesn't miss the way Tyler's voice wavers. He puts an arm around his waist, half physical support and half emotional. "You're not leaving us to freeze our balls off?"

"Nah, Mom would kill me." Zack stops, a hand on the door handle. "I got work early tomorrow, though. Might call Maddie to pick you guys up instead." This answer seems to satisfy Tyler; he's untying the strings of his hoodie.

Josh swallows, then speaks up. "Thank you," he says.

Zack doesn't answer him, not verbally, but before he gets back in his car and drives away, he sees him look directly at him, and nod once. It's a certain, firm nod; not hostile, but expectant. It feels like when he first brought them to the motel, when he told Josh to keep an eye on Tyler. He relied on Josh to take care of him, and he's relying on him again now.

And to the best of his abilities, Josh intends to continue to care for Tyler, for as long and as much as he needs it. No matter what happens now.

Chapter Text

Standing there on the side of the road with no car, no cell phone, and no way of knowing how to get back to the motel, Josh briefly registers how crazy this all is.

Any reasonable person in his place... well, no reasonable person would be in his place. They wouldn't have gotten this far. If they had, they'd be bolting down the road in the direction Zack's truck went, trying to flag him down to get them back to the comparative safety of the motel.

But nothing about Josh's beast is reasonable, and he already feels the pull to morph, a tug on his skin, insistent. There's just one thing holding him back.

Tyler is there with him in the dark, even as he stumbles off into the woods. With a final glance at their tie to civilization, Josh turns and follows him.

He hasn't gotten far, maybe a few feet into the treeline. He hasn't even morphed yet, but to Josh he already he looks less tired, less weary. It's dim, with only the flashlight Josh pulled from the tote bag to see by. He can still see the way Tyler's hands tremble with the zipper of his sweatshirt.

Stepping closer, Josh stops him with a touch. "Here," he says, offering him the flashlight; his other hand, steady for now, covers Tyler's. "Let me."

Through the wild look in Tyler's eyes, there is warmth. He silently takes the flashlight, holds it for Josh to see by as he unzips his sweatshirt for him, slipping one sleeve off and then the other. Josh sheds his own hoodie and leaves it on a fallen log.

And... well. Only once the prospect of bare skin occurs to him does Josh remember that they have to get completely naked if they don't want to shred their clothes entirely. His face feels warm as he holds the flashlight again, head lowered and eyes politely on his shoes as Tyler manages to pull his t-shirt off by himself.

He hears the sound of rustling fabric again, a muttered curse, but only looks up when Tyler says his name. He's shirtless, like Josh knew he would be, lean and tan, trembling hands worrying over the button of his jeans. He looks right back at Josh, and though it's hard to tell in the dim, Josh thinks that alongside that warmth and wildness, he sees something playful in his eyes.

"Josh," he says. "Help me with these?"

A rush of adrenaline washes over Josh so suddenly he almost drops the flashlight, and before he can stop himself, he says the first thing that pops into his mind. "Not exactly how I imagined this going down."

He's immediately mortified, but Tyler's shy smile only grows into a grin. "How were you imagining it?"

Face hot, Josh gives him the flashlight. Now his hands are a little shaky, too, but he's able to undo Tyler's jeans without any trouble. Embarrassment, attraction, and the need to morph are all wrestling for control behind his eyes, but he manages to shove aside all three--at least for now--and take the flashlight back again.

"Tell you later," he says.

The grip of Josh's shirt in Tyler's hands is sudden, fingers curling in to quickly pull him in, and in the blink of an eye, Tyler's kissing him. Despite the flashlight smashed in between them, and despite the flirtation they were just dancing around, the kiss is gentle, soft as silk. In turn, Josh softens, too, some of his stresses melting away as he simply feels.

His heart rate has slowed by the time Tyler carefully pulls away, though his chest briefly seizes with affection when Tyler tucks a stray curl behind his ear. That wildness is growing in his eyes, pupils dark, twin black pools with no bottom.

Josh only watches, half transfixed, as Tyler steps back, further from Josh and deeper into the woods. "Come on," he prompts, shucking off his jeans, his muscles flexing and contracting as the beginning of his morph grips him tight, as he hurries towards a place where he is something else entirely.

And Josh has no intention of letting him go to that place alone.

The flashlight is switched off, left behind beside the tote bag, beside the trail of clothes they've left. It's frigid, but Josh adds to that trail, knowing Tyler is doing the same, that they're doing this together. They aren't touching, but he can hear Tyler's labored breaths, can feel his own body responding as he shudders, weak in the knees.

His last morph, in the facility, was brought upon him not by Tyler's, but by Tyler being hurt. It was sudden, so sudden he didn't even feel it, and violent. It hurt like splintering bone when he became human again, and he'd feared morphing again now would hurt, too.

But it doesn't, at least not as bad as he'd expected. There's pain in the moment, for sure, and it burns a little as he comes down, but it feels like it took way less time than it has in the past, and when the animal that is not Josh rises, it rises on surprisingly steady paws.

Tyler is on his feet, too, his eyes shut, head lowered slightly. Concern nips at the beast's spine, knowing of his head injury, of the sharp urge to morph he'd felt before it happened, and without any prompting from Josh, it leans its head into his side.

When this earns it a sigh from Tyler, the beast continues, brushing along Tyler's body like a cat begging for attention. Slowly, but growing in certainty, Tyler's long tail wags, thumping against Josh's leg, and when Tyler lifts his head at last, he leaves a lick on the beast's cheek. Josh can't be completely sure, but he thinks it's Tyler's way of saying Thank you.

They don't run tonight, freeing as it can feel. Josh has never been in this forest before, and Tyler hasn't since childhood, so they both remain cautious as they pick their way through the undergrowth. The beast isn't afraid, though--it knows the scariest thing in this forest is itself, and if there are any wild animals watching from the trees or the shrubbery, they're keeping their distance.

Eventually, there's a break in the otherwise dense forest, and the lake lays before them. In the dark, it looks like obsidian, polished from years of water and wind, worn into smooth volcanic glass. It's truly beautiful, and for a long moment, the animal that is not Josh just stands there and stares.

Without really thinking twice about it, the animal that is not Josh bows its head to drink, and Tyler soon joins it.

A sharp cry suddenly rings through the air, distant, but clear, quickly accompanied by others. A chill races down the beast's spine, fur fluffing up down its back as it lifts its head. It has never heard this sound before, not with its own ears, but Josh has. It's coyotes.

They're far away by the sound of it, but an instinct tugs at the beast's throat, and it lifts its head. The sound that comes out of its mouth isn't quite a bark, being too low, a deep snap, but it's close enough. And again, like with the water, Tyler joins him.

It's not an aggressive call so much as a warning. The coyotes cry for only a moment longer before going silent, like they know better than to start trouble with an unknown animal. Something about this--showing off its strength, intimidating a threat, particularly in front of Tyler--boosts the beast's confidence, and it holds its head a bit higher as it follows Tyler along the lake's edge.

Bats dart swiftly over the water, snatching mosquitos, while frogs and crickets croak and chirp in the undergrowth. Though they aren't visible, the occasional calls of wild geese drift overhead, likely moving south to warmer waters. There's a breeze, but only just, rustling the branches of the fir trees overhead and carrying the cool, damp scent of the lake even beyond its shores.

It's almost serene.

Despite his inhuman appearance, Tyler is looking much more himself by the time they return to the clearing where they first morphed. It starts where it always does, with Tyler, then ends where it always does, with Josh. It was cold before, but now he's naked and freezing, with no clothes or coat of fur to keep him warm. For a moment after he comes back to his body, he's so cold he just huddles there on the ground, shaking.

He'd probably stay there if not for Tyler. He can see him just a few feet away, recovering from his morphing, and he's naked, too. He's freezing, too, and the sight makes something stir in Josh's chest, in his head. It isn't the beast. It's him. It's the desire to protect Tyler, to care for him; he's done this before. He will do it again.

It hurts, but he gets to his feet, stumbling on wobbly legs to the bag Zack gave them. Though every self preservation instinct Josh has is screaming at him to wrap the first blanket around himself as he grabs it, but he ignores it and staggers back towards Tyler.

He staggers back towards Tyler, crouched and trembling on the forest floor, and hastily drapes it around him. Tyler opens his eyes, looks up at him, and reaches out a shaky hand.

They never spoke much in the aftermath of the morphs they did together in the past, and this is no different. Josh doesn't know exactly what it is; maybe some part of them has to readjust to talking after being in a form that restricts it. This doesn't mean they can't communicate, however, and the tender look in Tyler's eyes, paired with the outstretched hand, tells Josh what he's asking without either of them having to say a word.

His senses are typically high after a morph, especially touch. It starts out intense, too much, before gradually turning to something more pleasurable, almost like a high. Josh is still within the intense phase, but nonetheless, he responds to Tyler's silent request by wrapping the other blanket around himself and crouching beside him, leaning his body into Tyler's.

It tingles, almost stings, but he bears it, because it's freezing and Tyler sought out his warmth. Not that Josh has much to spare. At least they can share what they have.

So they do.

Huddling together like two birds in a nest, the chill nips and bites at them. As Tyler rests his head on Josh's shoulder, Josh silently wishes everything was as it was--that they could morph in Tyler's forest instead of this one, stumble inside in a haze, and pass out in a warm bed.

Gradually, a sound begins to rise in the night air, distant at first, then overpowering; at least, to Josh's sensitive ears. Panic gripping at his chest, he gets to his feet with a grunt, squinting into the light that quickly and briefly washes over the clearing before disappearing again. It takes him a moment to realize that the sound he hears is a car's engine, and the light is from headlights.

The lights go off, then on, then off again. Simple. A signal. There haven't been any other cars on the road tonight, not this far out of town, and the car has stopped deliberately at this place. It has to be Zack.

Tyler's on his feet now, too, collecting their strewn clothes into the bag. Still hesitant, Josh carefully steps closer to the road and away from the forest to get a better look at the car.

It isn't a car. It's a truck, older, one Josh hasn't seen before. It rumbles, engine idling with the lights off, waiting for them. The odds that anyone other than Tyler's family would be here in this exact place and time are pretty low, but this does little to ease his worries.

The headlights come back on, and another spike of panic flares to life in Josh's heart. He stumbles back a few feet into the forest, but before he can turn to run, a hand brushes his arm.

Tyler's grip is steadier than his voice. Slurring, he tells Josh, "'S'kay. 'S my dad."

And Josh trusts Tyler, more than anything else in his world. So when Tyler carefully walks towards the truck, blanket wrapped tight around him, Josh follows him into the light.

Chapter Text

The cab of the truck is so warm compared to the frigid temperatures outside that it almost hurts, buzzing beneath his skin. The hypersensitivity doesn't help matters, either.

Meeting a new person when he feels like this is jarring, in some ways. Like Tyler when he first met him, Tyler's father betrays no obvious signs of being able to morph, but the sheer fact that he isn't surprised to see them in the state that they are says plenty. Josh is on edge and exhausted at the same time, an unpleasant mix that only really eases when Tyler is touching him.

Blanket wrapped tightly around him, Josh has to wrangle with his seat belt for a moment. He shifts to help Tyler with his, but he's already done it; almost the moment the door of the truck is shut, he's leaning into Josh's shoulder.

"You boys ready to head back?" Tyler's father prompts from the driver's seat. He's turned around to look at them, one arm on the wheel, a faint smile on his face.

"Mhm." Tyler yawns; his eyes are half shut. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem." His gaze moves from his son to Josh, and he gives him a brief nod in greeting. "Good to meet you, Josh. You need anything before we take off?"

Speaking with a stranger in this state feels wrong--speaking at all is difficult--but Josh is able to shake his head and murmur a "Thank you, sir" before resting his head against the window.

The drive is mostly quiet, mostly dark; the radio is playing classic rock at a low volume, the lights from the dashboard casting a dim glow over the inside of the cab. Josh is so tired that the only reason he's able to fight off sleep is the knowledge that Tyler is probably going to sleep, and if Tyler's asleep outside of the motel he wants to be awake to keep him safe. Silly, maybe, but he's tired and thoughts aren't exactly flowing clearly in his head at the moment.

The only other sound in the truck is from Tyler's father, who tells Josh to call him Chris. He seems to know the boys aren't quite up for a full conversation, because he doesn't ask them any more questions. He just talks, instead--about Silver Lake, and what Tyler and his siblings were like as kids.

"Been a long time since we all morphed together," he says as he adjusts the climate control. "Jay is the only one left in the house, besides your mother, and you know I'm too old to keep up with him now."

Tyler hums in response, nuzzling into Josh's shoulder. Fortunately, the hypersensitivity is less like pain now and more like pleasure, a warm buzz under his skin that makes it even harder to stay awake. Josh has to make a conscious effort to stay awake--and to hold back from snuggling up against Tyler the way they would if they were alone.

There's stories of chasing rabbits through the forest, of stumbling upon a herd of deer; of countless races between the trees. Josh doesn't know if a young morph would look different than an adult one, but he imagines they'd probably be smaller. To hear Chris tell it, they were like a pack of puppies, too playful for their own good, but far too endearing to earn much more than a scolding if they accidentally knocked over a vase or stepped on someone's foot in that form.

"I know you normally go out with the dogs," Chris continues as Josh fights off sleep. "And I know the circumstances are... less than ideal. But I'm glad you have someone to morph with these days."

It's quiet, but he can still hear Tyler's answer, murmured just under his ear. "Me, too."

They stagger out of the truck when Chris parks outside the motel. Wearing a blanket like a toga is not the way Josh would have preferred to meet Tyler's father, but he doesn't seem perturbed, at least. He makes sure they get back into their room safely, at his own insistence, and Josh quietly thanks him again just before he shuts the door behind him.

For a few long seconds, the truck's headlights glow through the shut curtains, washing Tyler and Josh in dim light before the engine rumbles, and the lights turn away, and so does the truck. Again, they are alone with one another.

All the lights are off, but Josh is too drowsy to bother turning them on, and by the way Tyler stumbles straight towards the bed, he doesn't particularly care, either. Josh follows, half blind in the dark, 'til his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he nearly falls forward.

He would, except Tyler is there to catch him. It's such a relief to see him steadying after the morph, to feel his hands on Josh's arms, no longer trembling. He's languid, eased of his pains--they both are. There is no fear, there is no dread. It's a brief respite, Josh knows, but now, everything is good.

Tyler's caught him. Tyler's always caught him when he needs him to.

Josh doesn't know who leans in first; it doesn't matter. It's warm, and Tyler's hands rest easy on his sides, guiding him closer. Josh holds Tyler's head in his hands as they kiss, fingers skimming over his stubble, along his jaw. He has no words for his reverence, but Tyler makes a soft sound at the touch, and Josh knows he hears him without needing to even open his mouth.

Josh does open his mouth, though, as does Tyler, pulling him onto the bed. The post-morph contentment he normally feels with Tyler is like this, too, except they never kissed then. Now they do.

It's automatic, almost lazy, a sharing of breath and spit and space. Maybe, with them both naked, it should be sexual, but it doesn't feel that way. Kissing like this is an extension, an expression, of the way they care for one another. Every sigh Josh makes is him telling Tyler all the things he doesn't know how to say, and every hum Tyler makes is the same thing, returned--it's his answer.

Josh doesn't make a conscious decision to stop, but becomes aware of Tyler's nose on his cheek, and his breath on his jaw. He nestles his body close, wrapping an arm around Tyler's waist, which earns him a pleased sound from the back of Tyler's throat. They're both lying down, now, on their sides, but Josh almost feels like he's floating on Silver Lake, cradled in the loving arms of the cool water within.

The contentment he feels right now, the dopamine dragging him down, is so heavy that staying awake any longer is all but impossible. The bottom of the lake is a soft, quiet place, and Josh is all too happy to sink below the surface. After all, Tyler's there waiting for him.

Chapter Text

It's still dim in the room when Josh wakes, the beginnings of dawn turning the light that seeps through the curtains a deep blue. Sluggishly, his brain notes, he's still half-wrapped in the sheets, and still naked. Tyler is, too.

He's fuzzy from sleep, drowsy, and his thoughts come to him unbidden, with no private rebuke to follow them. The warmth of Tyler's body is welcome, as is his face nuzzled into Josh's neck, as is the arm loosely cast over his waist. Josh moves without thinking, rubbing one of Tyler's ribs with his thumb where his hand rests on his chest.

He feels more than hears Tyler sigh against his skin, feels the arm around his waist pull him closer. An apology for waking him forms at the edge of Josh's lips, but when Tyler tilts his head up to look at him, eyes warm and honeyed, he stops. Their noses bump gently as Tyler's sleepy smile presses to his mouth, and after a few seconds, Josh's apology has been kissed away, long forgotten and long forgiven.

He doesn't know if some of the contentment from the previous night has seeped over into the morning, or if he's just too tired and fond of Tyler to think too hard about anything other than kissing him right now. Either way, he slowly begins to slip, to lose himself in the comfort of Tyler's body, of the way his tongue drags over Josh's bottom lip, and in the tranquility of the morning.

Everything is slow and languid, like basking in sunlight on a cold autumn morning. It might be cold outside of the blankets--Josh doesn't know or care, because everything here is good. His mouth is on Tyler's and Tyler's hand is on his hip and everything is exactly as it should be.

He has no idea how much time has passed, but by the time Tyler breaks the kiss, Josh could swear his lips feel wound-raw. He chases Tyler's mouth automatically, brow furrowing when Tyler puts a gentle hand on his chest to stop him.

Josh's eyes flutter open, and he bites back an embarrassing noise at the sight of Tyler, looking about as flushed and flustered as he feels. Briefly, he worries he's done something wrong, but the smile on Tyler's face quickly lets him know that he hasn't.

Not entirely able to keep the whine out of his tone, Josh mumbles, "Why'd y' stop?"

Just at the sound of his voice, Tyler leans back in to press another kiss to his nose, light and sweet but not enough. To Josh's dismay, he pulls back, gradually sitting up in bed. "Gotta shower," he says, stretching his arms above his head. Josh tries not to ogle him, and fails pretty hard. "We both smell like we were running wild in the woods all night."

Rolling onto his back, Josh admires Tyler's truly impressive bedhead. Among other things. "Is that a nice way of telling me I stink?"

Tyler chuckles, rubs the back of his neck. "I did say we."

He's still smiling, and Josh can't help smiling back; an expression reflecting off each other, growing the more time goes on. "Glad we're in this together, I guess."

Tyler shifts, looking as though he's about to get up, then stops. That grin of his fades--no, softens. There's something tender in his eyes.

"You can shower, too," he says. "If you want."

It takes a second for what he's not explicitly saying to get through to Josh's head, but once it does, he swears his heart staggers in his chest--fumbling, stammering--tripping over itself. What with the obvious intimacy of being naked in an enclosed space together, combined with the fact that they were just making out, the implications are impossible to ignore.

But Josh hesitates. It isn't even that he doesn't trust Tyler; he does, he knows this now. It's just... something they haven't done, a line they've neared but never dared to cross. They did get each other off that one time, the night they both admitted how much they cared for one another, but that was different. It was intimate, with roaming hands and hungry kisses, but they were mostly clothed. If they do this, if Tyler is implying what Josh thinks he is, it will be possibly the most vulnerable they've ever been with one another.

A hand gently brushes a curl out of Josh's face. Meeting Tyler's eyes, Josh sees something sincere, careful, but hopeful nonetheless. "No pressure," he says, hand moving further to run through Josh's hair. "But I could wash your hair for you."

Temptation bites at him, not violent, just nibbling, eating away at him. He turns Tyler's offer over in his head a few times until he realizes it for what it is: a peace offering. They'll be nude, of course, but the suggestion of washing Josh's hair for him isn't sexual. He's giving Josh an out, intimacy-wise, if he wants it. They don't have to shower together; they don't have to do anything at all. Tyler's isn't just letting him set his own pace, he's encouraging it.

Josh loves him. He can't say it, not out loud, but he does.

"Sounds nice," he says instead, a half sort of answer. Quieter, he adds, "Give me a minute?"

"'Course." Tyler's mouth quirks up into a smile again. He leaves Josh be, sliding to the edge of the bed and standing up and...

And Josh quickly looks away, face hot. He won't meet Tyler's eyes, but he just knows he's holding back a laugh as he grabs some clean clothes from one of the drawers. A split second before he goes into the bathroom, he clicks his tongue, and Josh's eyes shoot up automatically.

Tyler's more than half hidden by the doorway, but Josh knows he's naked even if he can't see much. He's a little relieved to see that Tyler's cheeks are pink, too; they're both a little awkward, a little shy. It's kind of comforting.

"I'll keep it warm for you," Tyler grins. Josh pretends to scowl at him, and then he goes.

Leaving Josh to himself.

His thoughts are racing, but his heart is, too. There are two things, in particular, that Josh tries to keep at the forefront of his mind as he sits, quiet and alone on the bed. Firstly, that overthinking this won't help matters; and secondly, that he trusts Tyler. Not to mention that Tyler trusts him, too.

He lets a minute or two pass before cautiously slipping off the bed and lingering in the space between the open bathroom door and the closet. Only when his reflection catches in the mirror by the sink does Josh remember--he's covered in scars.

Most of them are small, but they're prominent, showing themselves as raised skin, white lines, dark marks, all from various methods inflicted on him by the researchers. Josh knows Tyler's probably seen most of them by now, but never all at once.

Again, he hesitates before peeking into the bathroom. The shower is on; he can see Tyler's shadow behind it. The light in the room isn't on, but the one in the hallway is, leaving the room bright enough to see by but less sharp, less harsh. The thought that Tyler may have done this intentionally to put him at ease makes Josh's nerves loosen on the edges.

He's sure Tyler must be able to hear his heartbeat as he slowly crosses the bathroom, pausing with a hand on the curtain. If he's going to change his mind, this is probably the time to do it.

Fuck it. Exhaling a short breath, Josh pulls back the shower curtain and steps inside.

Tyler's standing in the water, scrubbing soap out of his hair. For a brief moment, Josh just stands there, captivated by how different yet familiar he looks with his hair plastered to his head, and by the droplets clinging to his skin, running down in rivulets. He won't let his gaze stray too far, not yet.

Just like that, Tyler's eyes flick open. The water makes his eyelashes so dark and pretty that Josh nearly misses his gentle prompting. If he's noting the scars scattering Josh's body, he isn't showing it. "Here. Get your hair wet."

Briefly, Josh ducks his head under the spray. He feels almost overwhelmed, swallowed up by a combination of both the tantalizing sight of Tyler like this as well as the anxiety and insecurity over his own appearance. The latter starts to ease, at least, once Tyler's soapy hands start actually washing his hair.

It's nice, so immediately so that Josh's eyes slip shut without his permission. Tyler carefully massages the soap into his hair, fingernails gently scratching at his scalp; god, it's more than nice. It's so good Josh can't really think of any better terms to describe it. He swears he can feel the last of his insecurities dripping down his back and washing down the drain.

Tyler washes his hair, like he said he would. Somehow, it makes Josh's heart feel full that he's being so gentle with him. He'd never start something he wasn't sure Josh would want to finish: he never pushes him beyond what he's comfortable with, just encourages him when he falters. He lets Josh name and set his boundaries as he likes.

As much as Josh loves that about him, he knows Tyler won't be the one to step over that boundary now; the boundary that slowly is starting to feel less like a protective shield and more like a fence, meant to keep them separated from one another.

And after everything they've been through--or in spite of it--Josh doesn't want there to be anything between them anymore.

So when Tyler lets him go, with his hair clean and his heart full, Josh doesn't let him get far. He turns, instead, facing Tyler, meeting him, hands on his face, and that's that. Josh kisses him like he means it, because he does. He does mean it.

Tyler makes a soft, surprised noise, but sinks into the kiss just as quickly. There's no apprehension, no hesitation, not anymore, and Josh only breaks away to gasp for breath in that small, safe space between his face and Tyler's. Tyler's breathing hard, too, one hand on Josh's side and the other on the shower wall, bracing himself. Josh's stomach swoops as he realizes that Tyler has, in fact, crowded him up against said wall. There's still a little space between them, but not much.

He's not trapped, though. Josh knows Tyler would step back immediately if he asked him to.

The thing is, he doesn't want him to. He just wants to be closer to him--and it's plain to see that Tyler is craving the same thing.

Despite how obvious his desire may be, Tyler still exhales a shaky question into the gap between kisses. Always checking in with him, always making sure he's okay; Josh loves him. "You want-?"

Josh nods, slight but quick, his nose poking Tyler's cheek. It's a little embarrassing, maybe, but then Tyler kisses him again, and he can feel his smile against his mouth, and that makes Josh smile, too. So maybe it's worthwhile.

The hand on Josh's side slides down to his hip, grounding and electrifying all at once; Josh's smile turns to a soft gasp. Moving to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, Tyler murmurs a quiet plea into his skin. "Say it?"

It's something he hasn't really admitted before, not out loud. Josh's heart thuds in his chest as he resists the urge to hide his face in Tyler's hair. "Want you. Is that okay?"

There's something satisfying and thrilling about the shaky breath Tyler exhales, mouth at the base of his throat. "Yeah." And then, he bites.

It's not sharp--Josh is pretty sure his teeth don't even break the skin--but as Tyler gives him a hickey, Josh realizes he'd let him. More so, that he wants him to. There have been many marks made on Josh's body, against his will, but this, he can control. This, he wants; a sign of trust, a sigil drawn in tiny, broken blood vessels that tells everyone that he is mine. Josh's hands have found their way to Tyler's hair, holding tight as his breathing becomes more labored.

The hand on his hip sneaks around behind him, and Josh is nearly startled by the sound and sensation of the shower shutting off. Tyler moves his mouth back up to meet Josh's, warm and reassuring. It's brief, though, as Tyler takes a half step back, pushing the shower curtain back and offering Josh a hand.

"We deserve better than shower sex," Tyler tells him. That playful smile is on his face again, but the softness in his eyes tells Josh that he means what he's said.

His heart soft, Josh accepts his outstretched hand, following him out of the shower. "We probably deserve dry sheets, too," he says as he climbs onto the bed, pulling Tyler with him. Their faces are close again, breaths mixing, pressed close.

Tyler kisses his cheek, then bites him again, just under his ear, and a little firmer than last time. Josh groans, and swears he can feel Tyler's teeth, smiling; always smiling. He presses his lips to the skin after a few seconds, hands on Josh's sides, a knee between his legs, his thumb pressing into the scar he stitched up all those months ago. Josh grips him like a lifeline.

"Probably," Tyler agrees, and then his mouth trails lower. "But I'd rather have you."

Josh couldn't agree more. He doesn't care if they have to sleep on the floor afterwards; he doesn't care about anything except having Tyler like this, the way he's privately craved for ages. And he gets him.