[ slowly, slowly, he settles in behind jiaoqiu, heart still thudding hard, staring for a minute at the back of his pink head. this is a stupid fucking idea. he feels like he's full of bees, internally jittering, like he might just leave anyway. it feels pathetic to do this for some reason, a nick to his pride where there shouldn't be one, but he's choosing this anyway.
and it is so, so warm under these covers. it is so much nicer than the rest of the night, than wandering back through the cold city to find his little not-a-house, to bundle up in the three blankets he has to sleep for a couple of scattered hours. it's warm and small and maybe it's something close to safe.
the tail sweeps over his legs, and after a long moment of quiet, after feeling his heart seize up for the third time at least, he tucks the blankets up to his nose, mulish and mortified and yet still staying, and mutters; ] I know you're still awake.
[ silence, for a moment, and then a huffy little laugh. he doesn't move his tail. ]
You could let me pretend.
[ he murmurs, not looking over his shoulder. he lets therion hide, and he hides a little himself. there's a part of him that wants to turn over and curl up right up against therion, but the other part screams no about it. it's so fragile, this. he has no idea how far he can even convince himself to go, let alone therion. so - it's just this. it's his tail over therion's legs, and inching back just a little bit to rest his back against therion's front.
for a minute, he thinks about offering to let therion fuck him to get the anxiety out, their usual, and that one part of him isn't exactly upset about the idea, but - he doesn't just yet. he just waits to see what therion will do. maybe just sharing a bed could... be nice. ]
[ there's a soft noise - a rumble that could almost be a laugh? rough in his chest, one note, one that escapes without his permission. it feels achingly intimate in this very quiet world, stilled by the cold outside and the late witching hour, hurts like pulling glass from a wound. hurts, but maybe it could be better for it.
he feels jiaoqiu move. inch by inch, he gets closer and closer, and though therion is still tense, tense, tense, he doesn't stop him. he doesn't lift his arms necessarily either, his hands curled tightly in the blankets, but he lets out a slow exhale, and his body curls slightly towards jiaoqiu when he comes closer. the tiniest bit of tacit acceptance. the tentative steps forward to the outstretched hand. ]
[ jiaoqiu stops inching back once they're touching, and eases down into the mattress. the warmth at his back actually almost instantly makes him sleepy, and he yawns, humming soft at the sound of therion's... laugh? was that a laugh? he liked that noise. ]
You are just so noisy. I couldn't help but react. [ this is a lie, therion was like a ghost climbing into his bed. he continues to keep his tail where it is. extra warmth, to entice him. he doesn't have to go back out into the cold. it's okay. ]
Go to sleep, little wolf. I'll follow your lead, and I'll try not to wake you.
[ it's been a while since he's had someone actually sleep with him. hopefully the nightmares won't be a problem. ]
[ yeah, okay, sure, he was noisy. if he wasn't feeling insanely like he was going to fly out of his skin, he might bite him for it, and he considers retaliation, but is cut off. again, with the nickname.
again, with the familiarity. again, with the being known. his mouth opens and closes on his sassy comeback. the urge to just destroy it and run, get the fuck away screams like a danger signal in the back of his mind, but it's a brief, bright blare of fear that settles into place, and it jitters out through his adrenaline, into his fingertips, into his chest, snaring like a snake through his ribcage before it finally loosens its grip. he's hypersensitive to the feeling of the tail on his legs, to the warmth of the heavy, comfortable blankets, the warmth of a body beside him.
he exhales out. ]
...You better not snore. [ he says, voice a quiet curl of smoke in the night. jiaoqiu is so warm, and it's been so long since he's slept beside someone else that he forgot how good it is. ]
[ he murmurs, with a little yawn. he doesn't try to touch any further, but he leaves himself open to it - he's been told he makes a good body pillow in the past, despite being a little bony.
and then - trusting that therion will stay, trusting that therion will hit him if he's too loud, trusting a lot of things - jiaoqiu starts to drift off, in a warm, comfortable bed. it's funny, actually. this might be the first night in ages that he doesn't have nightmares. ]
[ it's true, he would. he doesn't say anything else, and lets jiaoqiu settle back into place, silent, deep and deep in his own head.
it takes therion thirty minutes or so to fall asleep - thirty minutes of old memories, drifting back into similar nights before things were so wrong. burrowing closer to darius on snowy nights and the way he soaked in the human contact then, how the adrenaline of a good haul and teenage feelings would put a little smile on his face, when darius couldn't see.
those little smiles have been gone for years, now. the giddy, fluttery warmth he felt then is lost to him for the rest of his life. and it's better that way, as he tells himself so often. it's better to be an asshole, to shove people away from him. it's better to be alone.
but he finds himself here, tucked against jiaoqiu's back. and maybe even more unbelievably - he finds himself able to fall asleep. lightly so, awakening at every sound he doesn't recognize, but he manages to fall back asleep, snatching two or three hours of it. by the end of the night, he's curled up with jiaoqiu a little further, a single hand fisted in the back of his sleep shirt, his cheek tucked against his shoulder.
by the time that morning rolls around for real, light pulling through the curtains, therion is gone. but the blankets still smell like him, the spices are still in the cabinet, and now that he's not there to guard it, the fridge's contents of fresh rare produce await jiaoqiu's sight in the morning. ]
[ when jiaoqiu wakes up in the morning, he expects to be alone.
and he is, and it feels... well, it feels a way. he's sad. that's novel, though. he usually isn't sad, or bummed out, or anything. usually it's just nothing. he kind of marvels over that sadness as he makes himself breakfast, rubbing absently at his sternum like it'll ease the pain. still, though. it's not like all traces are gone. his blankets smell like therion, and his scent is still present in the apartment in general, which, in perhaps a stereotypically foxian way, jiaoqiu takes some measure of contentedness in. he remembers waking up once or twice in the middle of the night, feeling therion's fist curled up in his shirt, and falling asleep again immediately after. he was there. it wasn't a dream.
he feels more warm than usual, when he goes about his day. his tail wags absently behind him as he counts prescriptions, and sushang makes fun of him for it. for the first time during this night shift job, he wishes that he could see the sun instead.
he decides that he'll make something with the spices and the produce when he makes his way home. he'll leave some out, too. just in case. ]
[ the day that follows as therion slips out of jiaoqiu's apartment is a strange one. he's left with that buzzy, strange feeling and the need to do something about it, to forcibly and quickly remove himself the situation and feel something else, to throw himself into the seediest parts of the city where he walks like he owns the place and get into trouble. a stark reminder of the truth, that he does not need or want anyone else's company, that it only does him no good.
he pickpockets a borisin drug dealer in the midst of a major sting, slipping in and out of a tense, violent scene with heavier pockets and no echoes of his presence, and thinks nothing of it as his day carries on. he steals an apple from a stand at a local produce market and finds himself wanting for something sweeter to go with it, which leaves him irritated all over again. a nightcap at a shitty bar later, he's nursed a beer and is most of the way out of town, deep into the outskirts and heading for the bus station, when he's stopped.
and things start to go wrong from there. a couple of borisin come back for their stolen prize. therion doesn't move drugs - it's below him, which is a remark he should not have said out loud. he's good at dodging and avoiding getting hit, he's good at winning fights, but the sheer jacked bulk and the fact that he's cornered means that therion's as good as dead in this fight. only... that's the thing. he's therion. he's never been so good at staying dead.
beat to shit and exhausted, he can feel blood at the back of his mouth once again as he finally, finally manages to get away - manages to get the two idiots, clearly high on their own malice or certainly steroids, to get angry at each other instead and slip away in the chaos, taking off towards the next city until he knows he hasn't been followed. and upon reaching the edge of town, he drags himself into an alley as usual to see. a self investigation of his injuries reveals about what he's expecting - bruises, cuts and scrapes, but most distressingly, a dislocated shoulder caused by a bite from a pair of powerful jaws that dug deep into his flesh. fucking disgusting, but more importantly, bleeding a lot. it's not the kind of thing therion can easily take care of one handed, either. he could. he can, is the thing. with enough time, he could crouch down in the alley and steal more medical supplies and fix himself.
deja vu. he looks up at the halogen lights of the city quarter behind him, where he might be able to find what he needs. in front of him, the endless stretch of road to the next town over. open, but far away. moving under the cover of darkness, he could make it there and guarantee his safety, at least for a little while.
he thinks instead about a warm bed and a doctor's hands.
and for maybe the first time in his life, he makes a good choice. therion doesn't run out of the city. (it's likely what those two clowns are expecting of him, anyway.) he doesn't try to put himself together. for once in his life, he lets his feet drag him to the apartment he's gotten to know so well, makes absolutely sure no one followed him, and makes it up the fire escape one handed. it takes a lot of gritted teeth and effort, and by the time he reaches the fourth floor window, he doesn't have the strength to get in the way he usually does.
and so, he bangs his good shoulder into the window so it opens, and with a loud, unceremonious thud, slides inside and hits the ground directly on his ass under the sill, hissing through his teeth and throwing his head back as he does, enough to hit it against the wall.
jiaoqiu is home, by now. it's late, almost something you'd consider early morning instead of night, and he's puttering around trying to decide what he wants. he's a little tired. he's full - that's nice, he made something from the spices and produce and ate his fill, and still had leftovers. he leaves those in the fridge, because he hopes somehow the siren call of good food will bring him his nighttime visitor. but besides that, he thinks he might just go to sleep. he doesn't have much else to do.
or so he thinks. he's in the kitchen when he hears the fire escape creak, and he looks into his living room just in time to see his window get slammed open. it startles him enough to make his ears stand up, his tail poof -- and then he registers. he sees a small thief drop down to the ground against his wall, and his blood freezes. ]
-- Therion.
[ sharp, snapped, and... maybe a bit frightened. the jolt of terror that runs through him comes out strongly enough to end up in his voice as he drops whatever was in his hands - a bowl or something, it doesn't matter. he races across the living room in about four paces and drops down next to him, ears pinned back. ]
[ that comes out of his mouth immediately, because, well, he is. it's not that bad in terms of injuries, it's just annoying and bleeding in a spot he can't get to, and maybe he should think about the fact that he's bleeding at all but unfortunately, it's just another weeknight for therion. this was really his own goddamn fault, anyway, and that irritates him more than being hurt does. he looks at jiaoqiu - clearly worried, if those ears are any indication, if the fear in his voice is any indication, and then just gives a quick shake of his head. whatever happened didn't matter, or therion's refusing to talk about it, or both.
alas. he is an idiot. he grunts as he pushes himself up a little more solidly, digging a heel into the floor to push himself up and resting his other hand on his shoulder. ]
This - pop this back in. [ sound a little more concerned about it? therion? ] Street shit. Don't worry about it.
[ jiaoqiu snaps, putting a hand on therion's chest and pressing him to the wall. just to keep him still for a second. he takes a preliminary look - notes the bruises, cuts, scrapes, and then more specifically the shoulder wound. there's a pause. and for a moment, therion might notice something distant in jiaoqiu's expression, something empty and not there, as he gets a look at the bite. just for a moment. and then he brings a hand up to dig his claws into his upper arm abruptly, and it knocks him out of it.
jiaoqiu sucks in a breath, and pulls himself to his feet. ]
Street shit. [ he repeats, going back to the bathroom to get his kit. he's back very, very quickly, easing down next to therion and starting to tug at his clothes. off, right now. ]
This is a borisin bite? Don't lie to me. It's important.
[ this reaction kind of startles him - he's been nagged at by jiaoqiu like a hundred times, told what to do a hundred times, but there's something about this that feels way different, particularly watching him dig his hand in like that.
thrown for a loop and mostly disgruntled, it takes a second before the question registers, and he gives him a weird look. ]
Yeah? God - quit it, [ yeah. why is he freaking out about it. as he's fussed at over his clothes, too, he makes a noise and tries to get out of the hoodie he's wearing without any help - however, with his arm in a weird place, it's not happening, which puts him out even further, but the shirt eventually comes up and over his head, leaving him completely bare. the bite looks nasty. as always, when it comes to therion, it's way worse than it originally looks.
in the meantime, distantly, therion remembers the heart pounding sensation of fear that had come when he was first bitten, but he'd managed to tear himself out of it fast enough - maybe that's what jiaoqiu's weirded out about. ]
Because there is a lot to know about borisin and their biology, and I doubt you know as much as I do.
[ he ignores the quit it. instead, he settles in and helps therion get the shirt off, tossing it impatiently to the side. he pulls out disinfectant, first, and then hisses quietly at the way the bite looks. it's deep, and nasty, and he thinks it's going to take stitches. not to mention the dislocation, which he also has to fix. still - even with the clear disapproval, his hands are firm and gentle, and steady. he gets to work cleaning the wound, ears still pressed back. ]
Their mouths are disgusting. [ he says, voice tense. ] Rife with infection. You are lucky I have experience with this, or you would be in danger of contracting some sort of blood disease.
Did you experience the Lupitoxin? It may still be in your system. Unreasonable terror, anxiety, or difficulty breathing?
No, I thought he brushed his teeth and flossed twice daily.
[ is this the time for sass? probably not! but it's probably a good sign that he's okay, that he's able to just grouse and grumble. he doesn't say much else at first, silent as the wound is disinfected, teeth gritted in the place that it stings. it's wrapped around his shoulder, front to back - clearly the bite was what caused the dislocation, if not perhaps therion dislocating his shoulder on purpose to escape it, but he's still otherwise, staring at jiaoqiu like a hawk as he fixes him up.
any unreasonable anxiety. well. he's in this apartment as opposed to halfway down the highway by now, which maybe means he isn't having a reaction? or maybe it means that's why he came here. maybe the sense of safety overpowered the sense of get away - because ultimately, jiaoqiu is right, that he is lucky he has experience with it, that he's kind of even lucky to just be here, to have a place to drag his wounded body and know it'll be safe. it's more than he's ever had before.
that causes some anxiety, actually. a gnarled, twisty feeling - he turns his head and looks over jiaoqiu's shoulder and says, tightly: ] I said I'm fine.
[ if he feels any fear, he's sure as hell not going to admit to it. ]
[ the doctor senses are overpowering, right now. it's the only thing that's keeping him from flicking therion directly on the nose.
as it is, his tail is swishing angrily behind him as he cleans. he moves therion forward just a bit so that he can get at the fang marks on his back, making therion lean on him a little as he does. he wipes the blood away, he gently rubs a cream over the wounds - something that'll dull the pain, something that will make the skin mend itself over time. he rests therion against the wall, and looks at the blood on the wall of his apartment. fine, he says. i'm fine, like that wasn't what every single person he's ever lost has said before they collapsed in his arms. ]
Borisin eat their victims. [ jiaoqiu says stiffly. he can't quite meet therion's eye when he says it, and his hands falter - just briefly.
he tries to say more, but the words won't come. a beat, as he struggles with memories trying to crawl up his spine, as he pushes them back and down, and then he just takes a second to hang his head and mutters a very vicious, hissy fuck. ]
well. he lets jiaoqiu manhandle him, more or less - forced to lean against him, he stares over his shoulder for a second, reminded of the warm body just pressed against his just barely the night before. what is he doing here? this is the moment where that other shoe finally drops? because ultimately, this is what therion is really good for. parasitic nothingness, for causing distress. selfishly, taking and taking - taking now, taking jiaoqiu's abilities as a doctor and giving nothing in return. leaving bloodstains on a good thing. it's different than darius, but it's what he deserves.
therion falls silent, at the explanation, and looks away, again. the hissed swear - that is the first time he's ever heard that, and the anxiety and fear of the remaining lupitoxin are getting cloying, now, desperately telling him to run, to get the hell away from jiaoqiu, not because he's a predator, but because therion's the wolf.
he shifts, a little when he hangs his head. a normal person should help, should take his hands that shake and hold them. he doesn't. he presses himself further to the wall, eye darting past jiaoqiu to the door, to the window above his head, seeking escape. ]
Well, I'm not in its stomach. [ he says, sharp, this time - putting up spines and barbs, like he so often does. a feral little creature, a little beast. ] Like I said. [ enunciating: ] I'm. Fine.
deep breath. just take a second, and then get back to it. swallow the panic, feel nothing. therion is fine. he's bleeding, but he won't be. he is not ripped in half, he is fine. you didn't lose him.
hm. that last thought is, again, dangerous.
silence, and then he looks up at therion. he watches therion look for an exit, and he thinks about the effects of the toxin, and how much hell it is to go through it alone. he thinks about how he made enough food for two people, intentionally. he thinks about how life doesn't feel like it's in two-times speed when therion is in his apartment, leaving him food and spices and warmth in his bed. he thinks about the ease of banter and a shitty grin, his ass on his clean counter, the quick and talented fingers on a knife. he sees those spines and barbs, and he is not afraid of getting bit.
jiaoqiu reaches, and takes therion's chin in hand. gently. firmly. look at him. ]
If you try to bolt after I set your shoulder, I will chase you. You are in no shape. You are not fine. And you don't need to be.
[ this makes it even worse, though a large chunk of that is from the remains of the toxin. his chin is grabbed and he looks because he's forced to, but the cord of muscles on his neck are as tense as anything, and his other hand presses back against the wall like he might push himself forward, past jiaoqiu, out the window, out of his life forever. a cornered, trapped, feral animal once again. ]
For all you know, they followed me here. [ as if he would ever, ever, ever let that happen, for so many reasons, as if he would ever let his shitty, awful life drip all over this place any more than it already has. he saw that quake in his hands, saw the emotion, and the awful part of therion grips onto it, spiked armor and snarling teeth in his own right, wielding it like a weapon.
it's better that way. it's better this way. ] You don't know shit.
[ he does not believe that for a second. first of all, therion is an incredibly skilled thief. jiaoqiu does not think he'd even let them follow him down the street, let alone to his apartment. second of all, borisin are stupid, and sure, maybe they could follow his scent, but jiaoqiu is more inclined to believe they lost interest the second he left their view. he has experience, after all.
and jiaoqiu knows that grabbing makes it worse. sometimes, he thinks, it has to get worse before it gets better. sweating a fever out. ]
I know plenty. I know that you can't hurt me.
[ or... well, he could. it'd probably be easier than either of them think. but he is very good at pretending, and he's very good at keeping the void up front and present. whatever therion says to him, it won't hurt until later, when he has to pry the barbs out from under his skin. he can make himself believe that therion can't do anything to break him. ]
[ he's not even reacting, and that's frustrating, too, frustrating in the way that therion is a ball of human emotions poorly hidden, and that this is what fear looks like to him. it looks like lashing out - no wonder he didn't run from the borisin who attacked him. too prideful. too ready to throw himself into danger. always ready for the stick and never the carrot.
i know you can't hurt me stings, even though it shouldn't. it stings because this isn't working, and it stings because it's humiliating and true, that jiaoqiu has seen his softness, has seen how much of this is an act. a touchy feely fool, a sentimental berk, an abused street dog, that snaps his teeth but never bites, that never learns his stupid lesson of what it means to trust other people. even now, he could grab a knife and end it, and he goes to his words, instead. he scowls harder, still held like a bowstring by the hand on his chin.
he knows exactly why he came here first. he can't admit it, and so he doesn't, instead just scoffing. ]
Because you'd fix it up for free. [ is what therion spits out - it's not untrue, but it is a gross understatement, because there's a lot of trust involved in therion clambering through that window. ] Already did it before.
[ jiaoqiu can tell that he's angry, that he's frustrated that he can't get a reaction, but this, unfortunately, is the one thing that he's good at. something is wrong with him, that he can shut himself off so easily. therion is too soft, and jiaoqiu is too dull. maybe that works.
a beat. he lets go of therion's chin, and boops him on the nose. ]
[ the boop on the nose - startles him? it almost takes the wind out of his sails because it's such a strange gesture compared to the fight he was trying to incite, and for a moment he just stares at jiaoqiu, lit up by the halo of his apartment lighting, with his stupid fucking tail waving behind him.
from the confusing little nose boop to the lack of reactions to the phrase, like one punch after another after another, it all builds. and the first thing therion says is strained, impassioned. his visible eye is wide - he's still angry but the heat's directed differently, now, spiraled out into the reality that he is just lost. and the word comes out of his mouth as raw as a livewire. ]
Why?
[ beyond everything, it's absolutely fucking baffling, that jiaoqiu cares whether he lives or dies. because therion is a parasite, because he is a skittering creature on the underbelly who does nothing but take, who is unlovable, unworthy, awful, because nothing about jiaoqiu caring about his life makes any fucking sense. why should he? why should anyone? it's written all over therion's face in the desperation in his visible eye.
the question is genuine. he can't even begin to imagine why. ]
[ it's awfully disarming, to be booped. that's why he did it.
the question is one he's expecting, and the funny thing is that he isn't really sure he has an answer. there's a lot of things he could say. there's a lot of things he likes about therion, and he could just list them out, but that doesn't seem like the right answer. people like therion - people like jiaoqiu - don't believe that sort of thing. there is nothing worth caring about. a parasite, an empty jar. not worth keeping. you exterminate those, you get rid of them. you throw them in the trash and you don't look twice when they shatter.
the desperation on therion's face hurts, though. he thinks he cares because of that. and because...
sounds are louder, around therion. there's color in the world. he can hear the rain and the wind, he can smell his shampoo and the roses that he passes by as he walks to work, he can remember his days. he knows what day it is, when this little bastard is in his home. ]
I just do. I won't elaborate, because you'll try to contest it. Or twist it.
[ ... ]
Is there an answer that would convince you, anyway?
[ he's silent with that answer for a long moment, searching his face. therion's not a very expressive person - his default is a resting annoyed, and short of an eyebrow raise and a scowl, he rarely wears a single emotion on his face. this is different, and it lasts for a second more, his eye darting over jiaoqiu's face, like he could find the answer there, before therion becomes acutely aware and shuts it down, too, wrangling it all down.
he sucks in a breath, sharp, and then scoffs, turning his head away. he's not wearing a shirt, and there's nowhere for him to hide, but he lets his bangs fall a little further over his eye and keeps his gaze on the ground. ]
Can't ever just give an answer, can you. [ dry, maybe even a little rueful, but utterly lacking heat. he's not wrong, is the thing, but therion can't just admit to that, either. he's got his vulnerability ripped wide open, all of a sudden, and he doesn't know how to feel except tired. ]
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and it is so, so warm under these covers. it is so much nicer than the rest of the night, than wandering back through the cold city to find his little not-a-house, to bundle up in the three blankets he has to sleep for a couple of scattered hours. it's warm and small and maybe it's something close to safe.
the tail sweeps over his legs, and after a long moment of quiet, after feeling his heart seize up for the third time at least, he tucks the blankets up to his nose, mulish and mortified and yet still staying, and mutters; ] I know you're still awake.
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You could let me pretend.
[ he murmurs, not looking over his shoulder. he lets therion hide, and he hides a little himself. there's a part of him that wants to turn over and curl up right up against therion, but the other part screams no about it. it's so fragile, this. he has no idea how far he can even convince himself to go, let alone therion. so - it's just this. it's his tail over therion's legs, and inching back just a little bit to rest his back against therion's front.
for a minute, he thinks about offering to let therion fuck him to get the anxiety out, their usual, and that one part of him isn't exactly upset about the idea, but - he doesn't just yet. he just waits to see what therion will do. maybe just sharing a bed could... be nice. ]
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he feels jiaoqiu move. inch by inch, he gets closer and closer, and though therion is still tense, tense, tense, he doesn't stop him. he doesn't lift his arms necessarily either, his hands curled tightly in the blankets, but he lets out a slow exhale, and his body curls slightly towards jiaoqiu when he comes closer. the tiniest bit of tacit acceptance. the tentative steps forward to the outstretched hand. ]
You could be less obvious about it. [ rude. ]
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You are just so noisy. I couldn't help but react. [ this is a lie, therion was like a ghost climbing into his bed. he continues to keep his tail where it is. extra warmth, to entice him. he doesn't have to go back out into the cold. it's okay. ]
Go to sleep, little wolf. I'll follow your lead, and I'll try not to wake you.
[ it's been a while since he's had someone actually sleep with him. hopefully the nightmares won't be a problem. ]
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again, with the familiarity. again, with the being known. his mouth opens and closes on his sassy comeback. the urge to just destroy it and run, get the fuck away screams like a danger signal in the back of his mind, but it's a brief, bright blare of fear that settles into place, and it jitters out through his adrenaline, into his fingertips, into his chest, snaring like a snake through his ribcage before it finally loosens its grip. he's hypersensitive to the feeling of the tail on his legs, to the warmth of the heavy, comfortable blankets, the warmth of a body beside him.
he exhales out. ]
...You better not snore. [ he says, voice a quiet curl of smoke in the night. jiaoqiu is so warm, and it's been so long since he's slept beside someone else that he forgot how good it is. ]
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[ he murmurs, with a little yawn. he doesn't try to touch any further, but he leaves himself open to it - he's been told he makes a good body pillow in the past, despite being a little bony.
and then - trusting that therion will stay, trusting that therion will hit him if he's too loud, trusting a lot of things - jiaoqiu starts to drift off, in a warm, comfortable bed. it's funny, actually. this might be the first night in ages that he doesn't have nightmares. ]
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it takes therion thirty minutes or so to fall asleep - thirty minutes of old memories, drifting back into similar nights before things were so wrong. burrowing closer to darius on snowy nights and the way he soaked in the human contact then, how the adrenaline of a good haul and teenage feelings would put a little smile on his face, when darius couldn't see.
those little smiles have been gone for years, now. the giddy, fluttery warmth he felt then is lost to him for the rest of his life. and it's better that way, as he tells himself so often. it's better to be an asshole, to shove people away from him. it's better to be alone.
but he finds himself here, tucked against jiaoqiu's back. and maybe even more unbelievably - he finds himself able to fall asleep. lightly so, awakening at every sound he doesn't recognize, but he manages to fall back asleep, snatching two or three hours of it. by the end of the night, he's curled up with jiaoqiu a little further, a single hand fisted in the back of his sleep shirt, his cheek tucked against his shoulder.
by the time that morning rolls around for real, light pulling through the curtains, therion is gone. but the blankets still smell like him, the spices are still in the cabinet, and now that he's not there to guard it, the fridge's contents of fresh rare produce await jiaoqiu's sight in the morning. ]
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and he is, and it feels... well, it feels a way. he's sad. that's novel, though. he usually isn't sad, or bummed out, or anything. usually it's just nothing. he kind of marvels over that sadness as he makes himself breakfast, rubbing absently at his sternum like it'll ease the pain. still, though. it's not like all traces are gone. his blankets smell like therion, and his scent is still present in the apartment in general, which, in perhaps a stereotypically foxian way, jiaoqiu takes some measure of contentedness in. he remembers waking up once or twice in the middle of the night, feeling therion's fist curled up in his shirt, and falling asleep again immediately after. he was there. it wasn't a dream.
he feels more warm than usual, when he goes about his day. his tail wags absently behind him as he counts prescriptions, and sushang makes fun of him for it. for the first time during this night shift job, he wishes that he could see the sun instead.
he decides that he'll make something with the spices and the produce when he makes his way home. he'll leave some out, too. just in case. ]
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he pickpockets a borisin drug dealer in the midst of a major sting, slipping in and out of a tense, violent scene with heavier pockets and no echoes of his presence, and thinks nothing of it as his day carries on. he steals an apple from a stand at a local produce market and finds himself wanting for something sweeter to go with it, which leaves him irritated all over again. a nightcap at a shitty bar later, he's nursed a beer and is most of the way out of town, deep into the outskirts and heading for the bus station, when he's stopped.
and things start to go wrong from there. a couple of borisin come back for their stolen prize. therion doesn't move drugs - it's below him, which is a remark he should not have said out loud. he's good at dodging and avoiding getting hit, he's good at winning fights, but the sheer jacked bulk and the fact that he's cornered means that therion's as good as dead in this fight. only... that's the thing. he's therion. he's never been so good at staying dead.
beat to shit and exhausted, he can feel blood at the back of his mouth once again as he finally, finally manages to get away - manages to get the two idiots, clearly high on their own malice or certainly steroids, to get angry at each other instead and slip away in the chaos, taking off towards the next city until he knows he hasn't been followed. and upon reaching the edge of town, he drags himself into an alley as usual to see. a self investigation of his injuries reveals about what he's expecting - bruises, cuts and scrapes, but most distressingly, a dislocated shoulder caused by a bite from a pair of powerful jaws that dug deep into his flesh. fucking disgusting, but more importantly, bleeding a lot. it's not the kind of thing therion can easily take care of one handed, either. he could. he can, is the thing. with enough time, he could crouch down in the alley and steal more medical supplies and fix himself.
deja vu. he looks up at the halogen lights of the city quarter behind him, where he might be able to find what he needs. in front of him, the endless stretch of road to the next town over. open, but far away. moving under the cover of darkness, he could make it there and guarantee his safety, at least for a little while.
he thinks instead about a warm bed and a doctor's hands.
and for maybe the first time in his life, he makes a good choice. therion doesn't run out of the city. (it's likely what those two clowns are expecting of him, anyway.) he doesn't try to put himself together. for once in his life, he lets his feet drag him to the apartment he's gotten to know so well, makes absolutely sure no one followed him, and makes it up the fire escape one handed. it takes a lot of gritted teeth and effort, and by the time he reaches the fourth floor window, he doesn't have the strength to get in the way he usually does.
and so, he bangs his good shoulder into the window so it opens, and with a loud, unceremonious thud, slides inside and hits the ground directly on his ass under the sill, hissing through his teeth and throwing his head back as he does, enough to hit it against the wall.
surprise! two days in a row! ]
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jiaoqiu is home, by now. it's late, almost something you'd consider early morning instead of night, and he's puttering around trying to decide what he wants. he's a little tired. he's full - that's nice, he made something from the spices and produce and ate his fill, and still had leftovers. he leaves those in the fridge, because he hopes somehow the siren call of good food will bring him his nighttime visitor. but besides that, he thinks he might just go to sleep. he doesn't have much else to do.
or so he thinks. he's in the kitchen when he hears the fire escape creak, and he looks into his living room just in time to see his window get slammed open. it startles him enough to make his ears stand up, his tail poof -- and then he registers. he sees a small thief drop down to the ground against his wall, and his blood freezes. ]
-- Therion.
[ sharp, snapped, and... maybe a bit frightened. the jolt of terror that runs through him comes out strongly enough to end up in his voice as he drops whatever was in his hands - a bowl or something, it doesn't matter. he races across the living room in about four paces and drops down next to him, ears pinned back. ]
What - what happened?
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[ that comes out of his mouth immediately, because, well, he is. it's not that bad in terms of injuries, it's just annoying and bleeding in a spot he can't get to, and maybe he should think about the fact that he's bleeding at all but unfortunately, it's just another weeknight for therion. this was really his own goddamn fault, anyway, and that irritates him more than being hurt does. he looks at jiaoqiu - clearly worried, if those ears are any indication, if the fear in his voice is any indication, and then just gives a quick shake of his head. whatever happened didn't matter, or therion's refusing to talk about it, or both.
alas. he is an idiot. he grunts as he pushes himself up a little more solidly, digging a heel into the floor to push himself up and resting his other hand on his shoulder. ]
This - pop this back in. [ sound a little more concerned about it? therion? ] Street shit. Don't worry about it.
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[ jiaoqiu snaps, putting a hand on therion's chest and pressing him to the wall. just to keep him still for a second. he takes a preliminary look - notes the bruises, cuts, scrapes, and then more specifically the shoulder wound. there's a pause. and for a moment, therion might notice something distant in jiaoqiu's expression, something empty and not there, as he gets a look at the bite. just for a moment. and then he brings a hand up to dig his claws into his upper arm abruptly, and it knocks him out of it.
jiaoqiu sucks in a breath, and pulls himself to his feet. ]
Street shit. [ he repeats, going back to the bathroom to get his kit. he's back very, very quickly, easing down next to therion and starting to tug at his clothes. off, right now. ]
This is a borisin bite? Don't lie to me. It's important.
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thrown for a loop and mostly disgruntled, it takes a second before the question registers, and he gives him a weird look. ]
Yeah? God - quit it, [ yeah. why is he freaking out about it. as he's fussed at over his clothes, too, he makes a noise and tries to get out of the hoodie he's wearing without any help - however, with his arm in a weird place, it's not happening, which puts him out even further, but the shirt eventually comes up and over his head, leaving him completely bare. the bite looks nasty. as always, when it comes to therion, it's way worse than it originally looks.
in the meantime, distantly, therion remembers the heart pounding sensation of fear that had come when he was first bitten, but he'd managed to tear himself out of it fast enough - maybe that's what jiaoqiu's weirded out about. ]
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[ he ignores the quit it. instead, he settles in and helps therion get the shirt off, tossing it impatiently to the side. he pulls out disinfectant, first, and then hisses quietly at the way the bite looks. it's deep, and nasty, and he thinks it's going to take stitches. not to mention the dislocation, which he also has to fix. still - even with the clear disapproval, his hands are firm and gentle, and steady. he gets to work cleaning the wound, ears still pressed back. ]
Their mouths are disgusting. [ he says, voice tense. ] Rife with infection. You are lucky I have experience with this, or you would be in danger of contracting some sort of blood disease.
Did you experience the Lupitoxin? It may still be in your system. Unreasonable terror, anxiety, or difficulty breathing?
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[ is this the time for sass? probably not! but it's probably a good sign that he's okay, that he's able to just grouse and grumble. he doesn't say much else at first, silent as the wound is disinfected, teeth gritted in the place that it stings. it's wrapped around his shoulder, front to back - clearly the bite was what caused the dislocation, if not perhaps therion dislocating his shoulder on purpose to escape it, but he's still otherwise, staring at jiaoqiu like a hawk as he fixes him up.
any unreasonable anxiety. well. he's in this apartment as opposed to halfway down the highway by now, which maybe means he isn't having a reaction? or maybe it means that's why he came here. maybe the sense of safety overpowered the sense of get away - because ultimately, jiaoqiu is right, that he is lucky he has experience with it, that he's kind of even lucky to just be here, to have a place to drag his wounded body and know it'll be safe. it's more than he's ever had before.
that causes some anxiety, actually. a gnarled, twisty feeling - he turns his head and looks over jiaoqiu's shoulder and says, tightly: ] I said I'm fine.
[ if he feels any fear, he's sure as hell not going to admit to it. ]
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as it is, his tail is swishing angrily behind him as he cleans. he moves therion forward just a bit so that he can get at the fang marks on his back, making therion lean on him a little as he does. he wipes the blood away, he gently rubs a cream over the wounds - something that'll dull the pain, something that will make the skin mend itself over time. he rests therion against the wall, and looks at the blood on the wall of his apartment. fine, he says. i'm fine, like that wasn't what every single person he's ever lost has said before they collapsed in his arms. ]
Borisin eat their victims. [ jiaoqiu says stiffly. he can't quite meet therion's eye when he says it, and his hands falter - just briefly.
he tries to say more, but the words won't come. a beat, as he struggles with memories trying to crawl up his spine, as he pushes them back and down, and then he just takes a second to hang his head and mutters a very vicious, hissy fuck. ]
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well. he lets jiaoqiu manhandle him, more or less - forced to lean against him, he stares over his shoulder for a second, reminded of the warm body just pressed against his just barely the night before. what is he doing here? this is the moment where that other shoe finally drops? because ultimately, this is what therion is really good for. parasitic nothingness, for causing distress. selfishly, taking and taking - taking now, taking jiaoqiu's abilities as a doctor and giving nothing in return. leaving bloodstains on a good thing. it's different than darius, but it's what he deserves.
therion falls silent, at the explanation, and looks away, again. the hissed swear - that is the first time he's ever heard that, and the anxiety and fear of the remaining lupitoxin are getting cloying, now, desperately telling him to run, to get the hell away from jiaoqiu, not because he's a predator, but because therion's the wolf.
he shifts, a little when he hangs his head. a normal person should help, should take his hands that shake and hold them. he doesn't. he presses himself further to the wall, eye darting past jiaoqiu to the door, to the window above his head, seeking escape. ]
Well, I'm not in its stomach. [ he says, sharp, this time - putting up spines and barbs, like he so often does. a feral little creature, a little beast. ] Like I said. [ enunciating: ] I'm. Fine.
Just put my shoulder back.
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deep breath. just take a second, and then get back to it. swallow the panic, feel nothing. therion is fine. he's bleeding, but he won't be. he is not ripped in half, he is fine. you didn't lose him.
hm. that last thought is, again, dangerous.
silence, and then he looks up at therion. he watches therion look for an exit, and he thinks about the effects of the toxin, and how much hell it is to go through it alone. he thinks about how he made enough food for two people, intentionally. he thinks about how life doesn't feel like it's in two-times speed when therion is in his apartment, leaving him food and spices and warmth in his bed. he thinks about the ease of banter and a shitty grin, his ass on his clean counter, the quick and talented fingers on a knife. he sees those spines and barbs, and he is not afraid of getting bit.
jiaoqiu reaches, and takes therion's chin in hand. gently. firmly. look at him. ]
If you try to bolt after I set your shoulder, I will chase you. You are in no shape. You are not fine. And you don't need to be.
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For all you know, they followed me here. [ as if he would ever, ever, ever let that happen, for so many reasons, as if he would ever let his shitty, awful life drip all over this place any more than it already has. he saw that quake in his hands, saw the emotion, and the awful part of therion grips onto it, spiked armor and snarling teeth in his own right, wielding it like a weapon.
it's better that way. it's better this way. ] You don't know shit.
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[ he does not believe that for a second. first of all, therion is an incredibly skilled thief. jiaoqiu does not think he'd even let them follow him down the street, let alone to his apartment. second of all, borisin are stupid, and sure, maybe they could follow his scent, but jiaoqiu is more inclined to believe they lost interest the second he left their view. he has experience, after all.
and jiaoqiu knows that grabbing makes it worse. sometimes, he thinks, it has to get worse before it gets better. sweating a fever out. ]
I know plenty. I know that you can't hurt me.
[ or... well, he could. it'd probably be easier than either of them think. but he is very good at pretending, and he's very good at keeping the void up front and present. whatever therion says to him, it won't hurt until later, when he has to pry the barbs out from under his skin. he can make himself believe that therion can't do anything to break him. ]
Why did you come to me first?
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i know you can't hurt me stings, even though it shouldn't. it stings because this isn't working, and it stings because it's humiliating and true, that jiaoqiu has seen his softness, has seen how much of this is an act. a touchy feely fool, a sentimental berk, an abused street dog, that snaps his teeth but never bites, that never learns his stupid lesson of what it means to trust other people. even now, he could grab a knife and end it, and he goes to his words, instead. he scowls harder, still held like a bowstring by the hand on his chin.
he knows exactly why he came here first. he can't admit it, and so he doesn't, instead just scoffing. ]
Because you'd fix it up for free. [ is what therion spits out - it's not untrue, but it is a gross understatement, because there's a lot of trust involved in therion clambering through that window. ] Already did it before.
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a beat. he lets go of therion's chin, and boops him on the nose. ]
Yes. Because you know it is safe to come to me.
[ his tail swishes back and forth behind him. ]
And because I care if you live or die.
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from the confusing little nose boop to the lack of reactions to the phrase, like one punch after another after another, it all builds. and the first thing therion says is strained, impassioned. his visible eye is wide - he's still angry but the heat's directed differently, now, spiraled out into the reality that he is just lost. and the word comes out of his mouth as raw as a livewire. ]
Why?
[ beyond everything, it's absolutely fucking baffling, that jiaoqiu cares whether he lives or dies. because therion is a parasite, because he is a skittering creature on the underbelly who does nothing but take, who is unlovable, unworthy, awful, because nothing about jiaoqiu caring about his life makes any fucking sense. why should he? why should anyone? it's written all over therion's face in the desperation in his visible eye.
the question is genuine. he can't even begin to imagine why. ]
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the question is one he's expecting, and the funny thing is that he isn't really sure he has an answer. there's a lot of things he could say. there's a lot of things he likes about therion, and he could just list them out, but that doesn't seem like the right answer. people like therion - people like jiaoqiu - don't believe that sort of thing. there is nothing worth caring about. a parasite, an empty jar. not worth keeping. you exterminate those, you get rid of them. you throw them in the trash and you don't look twice when they shatter.
the desperation on therion's face hurts, though. he thinks he cares because of that. and because...
sounds are louder, around therion. there's color in the world. he can hear the rain and the wind, he can smell his shampoo and the roses that he passes by as he walks to work, he can remember his days. he knows what day it is, when this little bastard is in his home. ]
I just do. I won't elaborate, because you'll try to contest it. Or twist it.
[ ... ]
Is there an answer that would convince you, anyway?
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he sucks in a breath, sharp, and then scoffs, turning his head away. he's not wearing a shirt, and there's nowhere for him to hide, but he lets his bangs fall a little further over his eye and keeps his gaze on the ground. ]
Can't ever just give an answer, can you. [ dry, maybe even a little rueful, but utterly lacking heat. he's not wrong, is the thing, but therion can't just admit to that, either. he's got his vulnerability ripped wide open, all of a sudden, and he doesn't know how to feel except tired. ]
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