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Tommy’s not sure why everyone is surprised when his social worker turns up the day before the full moon. His household know about his lycanthropy; it’s not like he managed to keep it a secret. Clara knocks on the door bright and early, startling Techno into almost dropping the blood bag he’d been snacking on.
‘Who’s that?’ he grunts out, lips still sealed around the plastic.
He does his best to not laugh at the disgruntled expression on the man’s face, and instead raises an eyebrow. ‘My social worker? It’s the day before the full-moon,’ Tommy points out, waiting for understanding to dawn on the vampire’s face.
It doesn’t happen.
Tommy’s known the Craft family for a while. Almost a year, all things considered, but he’s only been fostered by them for the past month. This will be his first full moon staying at their home, which he’s only mildly nervous about. It’s not like they have a basement for him to hide in, so Tommy has already prepared the closet to be his shifting room.
At least in this house, Tommy doesn’t have to worry about them reacting like a human would. Techno’s a nocturnal creature like he is, and Wilbur’s some form of water nymph. Phil’s got some strange witch-blood, but he also has a huge set of black wings on his back that Tommy secretly is rather envious of. With three non-humans, Tommy is less worried about his werewolf status.
‘Why’s she here?’ Techno asks, putting the blood bag down and licking his lips. Sharpened fangs stick out from under his top lip, disappearing a moment later. His sometimes-crimson eyes fade back to a slightly more human shade, but there’s confusion marring his expression.
Tommy blinks. ‘With… with the stuff? For my, uh, condition?’ The phrasing is slightly awkward, because he’s never really been able to say the word werewolf out loud.
It’s clearly too early in the morning to be having this discussion, because Techno is still staring at Tommy like he’s speaking a different language. Actually, Techno would probably have more luck understanding him then, because the nerd speaks at least five different languages.
Back to Clara knocking on the door.
Seeing as his foster-brother isn’t going to get up, Tommy heads to the entrance to the Craft household and opens the door.
‘Morning, Thomas!’ Clara greets with a smile, the box clasped in her hands and resting on her hip. He hides the flinch at the scent of wolfsbane that leaks out from within, before gesturing for her to come in. Normally, he wouldn’t invite anyone in the house without Phil’s permission – supernaturals have a weird thing about privacy – but he figures Phil would want her to be here. Clara walks right into the kitchen without hesitation and puts the box down on the table, smiling to Techno as the vampire leans against the kitchen side. ‘Hello, Technoblade. Nice to see you again,’ she says kindly, although she probably doesn’t mean it.
Clara is a human, and that makes her less likely to be fond of a vampire standing in the room.
‘I didn’t realise we were expecting you,’ Techno says bluntly, eyes focused on the box.
Tommy snorts, figuring it’s a poor joke. When Techno’s attention turns to him, Clara just laughs. ‘Maybe Mr Craft forgot to read the information I gave him on Thomas’ shifting, he should probably check that out before tomorrow,’ she advises, then turns to him as well.
Manicured fingers tap the top of the box. ‘You know what you’re doing, anyway. Seeing as this house is a permanent foster, I’ll leave the items here until you’re sent back,’ she tells him, and Techno tenses up from his position by the sink.
Tommy ignores the stab of hurt that comes with knowing that this will end eventually. They may have been nice enough to offer a poor supernatural a home for a bit, but all good things come to an end. Tommy isn’t stupid enough to think that Phil will keep him indefinitely. Hopefully, if the shift goes well, he might make it to the next full moon.
‘Thanks for the stuff,’ he says awkwardly, wincing when she slides the box over to him. Even if it’s only made of wood, the wolfsbane residue on the outside makes his skin tingle.
‘Well, I’ve got to get going. Good luck for tomorrow,’ Clara adds, aiming the last bit at Techno, before she heads out of the house.
Tommy relaxes as soon as she’s gone, picking up the box and forcing the wolf-half of his brain to quiet down when it yelps in pain.
Hurt – scared – wolfsbane burns – where’s pack?
‘I’ll just take this upstairs,’ Tommy tells his foster-brother, before vanishing to his room.
It has a lock on it, which proves useful for when he wants some privacy. Placing the box on the bed, he awkwardly unlocks the top and opens it up to reveal the equipment he has for the shift. The manacles for his wrists and ankles are laced with wolfsbane, hence the heavy scent that fills his room. There’s a collar for good measure, and a muzzle to stop him from biting anyone. Liquid wolfsbane to be taken with dinner tomorrow night for good measure, and a ratty blanket that’s the only thing from his original pack.
He glances over each of the items, then places it into the closet for tomorrow night.
**
Run – freedom – shift – pack – hungry
‘Dinner’s almost ready, boys!’ Phil calls from somewhere in the kitchen, and Tommy forces his head off of the pillow he’s buried into. The pounding in his head gets worse when he catches sight of the window, and the garden that leads down to the woods that surround the house. He went for a walk this morning with Wilbur, down to the creek where he first met the Craft family, but it didn’t help the urge to shift and run.
His door opens after someone knocks, and Tommy is greeted with the familiar scent of pine and freshly mown grass, tinged with strawberry bodywash that belongs to Techno. Wilbur snorts in amusement, careful not to enter Tommy’s room without permission. ‘Get up, gremlin. Dinner’s ready; dad cooked steak for you.’
Starving
‘M’not a dog,’ Tommy mumbles into the pillow, canines throbbing as the shift gets ready for his transformation later.
Wilbur laughs, soft and floaty and musical in tune, before it breaks into a hiccupping sound that’s more human. ‘Woof woof. Come on, we know you need to eat before tonight.’
The mention of what’s happening this evening makes Tommy flinch. Most houses have rules about his transformation, but Phil hasn’t really said anything, so Tommy presumes he’s allowed to do what he wants as long as he follows the normal rules.
He forces himself off the mattress, heads to the closet to find the liquid wolfsbane before adding a couple of drops to his water. Taking the glass, he heads downstairs to find the Craft family already seated.
‘You get to do the washing up for being slow,’ Wilbur jokes, not that Tommy would argue with it.
‘Behave, Wil. Tommy, don’t listen to him,’ Phil says with a fond annoyance as he begins to plate up food. Tommy has to physically stop himself from eating the moment the steak hits his plate, and instead waits for everyone to finish serving before he reaches for his fork.
It’s about half-way through the meal that Phil brings up the shift. ‘So, Tommy, what do you need us to do tonight?’
Play! – hunt – pack – cuddles?
‘Uh,’ he begins, reaching for the glass of wolfsbane-water, ‘Nothing? I can sort everything out myself.’ The thought of Phil having to be near Tommy’s shifting form makes him want to throw up, and not just because it hurts his wolf-mind to think about his Al—foster-father putting wolfsbane chains on him.
Phil frowns. ‘Are you sure? I know wolves are usually social creatures—’
‘I’m not,’ he interrupts, worried that they think he needs someone to sit with him, ‘I’m good to shift by myself.’
‘Are you going out into the woods?’ Techno asks, and Tommy wonders how he’s supposed to do that when he’s chained up. It would be too painful, to have to lie in the woods when he wants to run free in them.
‘No, I thought I’d just shift in my room,’ he admits cautiously, suddenly aware of the fact that they might not want him to.
Phil just smiles. ‘Whatever’s best for you, mate.’
Tommy nods, drinking half of the glass of water and refusing to acknowledge the part of him that screams.
Wilbur nudges his side, ‘Well, if you want company, just bark or something. I’ll come running.’
‘Great joke, Wil. Real inventive,’ Tommy mutters in amusement. They know full well that he can’t bark with a muzzle on.
Wilbur just grins, reaching to ruffle his hair.
Tommy wishes his hand would slip just a little further, to the back of his neck.
**
It starts later that evening, when the sun has fully set. Tommy excuses himself from the dinner-table to head upstairs, locking the door to his room and heading to the closet. His first step is to change out of his jeans and nice shirt, replacing it with a pair of shorts and leaving his torso bare. With that done, he finishes another glass of wolfsbane water, before settling in the closet with the box.
The next part is never fun.
It starts with the manacles around his ankles. Picking up the iron, he flinches as his skin hisses under the contact, trying his best to ignore the pain as he snapped them in place around his ankles. With them locked together, he reaches for the ones for his wrist. It gives him enough space to transform, but not enough to run in his wolf-form.
The collar is next, clipping around his neck so that it weakens his wolf-form.
Hurt – scared – pack – lonely – Alpha?
The blanket settles in his lap, and he reaches for the final item in the box. The muzzle is another thing that expands with his transformation, but it hurts to wrap it around his mouth. For now, it sits awkwardly against his face, the straps keeping it in place since he has no muzzle to block it.
Then he waits.
Sometimes, he doesn’t transform till the early morning. Other times he transforms as soon as the sun sets.
Tonight is a mixture of the two. It reaches around 10pm when he feels it, the throbbing in the back of his head that begins to spread. A whimper escapes from his mouth as claws begin to form, as bones pop out of place and reform under him. Every inch of his body screams as his hair becomes coarser, thicker, transitioning to golden fur that spreads over his wolf-form.
His jaw snapping is the most painful part. His snout expands to fill the muzzle strapped around his head, until he’s lying on the floor restrained.
The wolfsbane makes his wolf-form fuzzy. He can’t really do anything except from lie there, confused and lost, nuzzling desperately into the blanket for comfort. Other people are in the house, he can hear Wilbur strumming his guitar just down the corridor, and Techno chatting with Phil down in the kitchen.
It’s enough to soothe him.
Pack here – safe – Alpha close – comfort?
He can’t sleep, even if his head is fuzzy. Instead, he just waits for morning to come, so that he might transition back into his human form.
He thinks of his first pack, the only place where he was allowed to run free. The only place that thought werewolves deserved freedom. They’d been wrong, but it was nice to be allowed to play with the others, to curl up with his mum and play with the other pups under the moonlight. Although he’s fourteen now, it’s still a pup in his wolf equivalent. A pup that hadn’t yet grown into his large paws, or learned to hunt properly.
A knocking sound breaks him from his thoughts.
‘We’re heading to bed, mate, but just shout… or bark if you need us?’
He wants to point out that it’s another bad joke, or maybe they don’t know that the muzzle silences his sounds? Either way, the voice of his Alpha calms him enough to lower his head to the floor of the closet, allowing his gaze to focus on the light coming from under the door.
Phil shuffles away, and Tommy is left by himself.
**
He wears a large hoodie in the morning to cover the marks left by the collar and manacles, heading down to breakfast like normal. Freshly showered and with plenty of water in his system, he needs food to get rid of the traces of wolfsbane that linger.
‘Morning, sunshine,’ Wilbur calls, battling with Techno at the stove as they try to cook pancakes.
‘Morning,’ he grumbles, throat sore from the burning toxin, ‘Nice guitar last night.’
Wilbur pauses, flicking his gaze back to Tommy in surprise. ‘You could hear that?’
‘I’m a wolf, Wil,’ he bluntly says, the first time he’s pointed it out.
Wilbur looks pleased by him saying it, but Tommy is prouder of the fact that they clearly weren’t upset by his shift. He’s done something right.
Phil comes in a moment later, narrowing his eyes on his two sons. ‘Boys, why is Wilbur being allowed anywhere near the stove?’
‘He wanted to make Tommy pancakes,’ Techno drawls, shooting Tommy a grin.
The wolfling just glances between them, confused about why they’re being so nice.
A reward, maybe, for doing good with his shift?
‘I’d prefer to have a house left by lunchtime,’ Phil mutters, mostly to himself, before sending them both to the table.
Tommy’s already on his third glass of orange juice, checking each time he pours a new one to make sure that nobody was upset that he was thirsty. When Phil just slid the bottle closer to him, Tommy figured he was allowed to have another.
‘So, Toms, feeling up for a walk in the woods?’ Wilbur asks, and Tommy would be wagging his tail if he was shifted.
‘The opportunity to shove you in the stream again? Sure,’ he teases, glad to be back to normal.
**
The routine works. Tommy returns to his closet to shift for the second and third full moons of his stay, and nobody complains about it. He’s finally found a house where he can shift without upsetting anyone, which is a miracle.
Until it isn’t.
The day of Tommy’s fourth full-moon at the Craft household, his foster-brothers and Phil are out shopping. Tommy, already feeling the drain of the moon, decided to stay at home. They promised to bring back Chinese, so Tommy knows he’ll be full before having to consume more wolfsbane, but he’s surprised to hear the car hurtling into the driveway at the speed of sound.
The car doors are thrown open, and Tommy cranes his head to the side to listen in.
‘—toxic, dad! How do we—’
‘Not here. We need to speak to Tommy about this,’ Phil cuts in, and the front door opens.
Tommy perks up at the smell of Chinese, darting towards the door and grinning. ‘Evening to the best of men, and Wibbles,’ he jokes, making grabby hands at the cartons of food.
Phil’s smile is strained. ‘Evening, mate. Here,’ he offers out the food, and Tommy snatches it up to return to the main room.
The others join. Wilbur’s nervously looking in his direction every so often, while Technoblade openly stares at the bottle of water that Tommy is drinking.
It’s strange. There’s definitely something wrong, and Tommy isn’t sure how to go about fixing it.
‘We saw Clara when we went out shopping,’ Phil blurts randomly, as Tommy chews on a mouthful of noodles.
‘How do?’ he asks, still chewing, and Technoblade’s nose wrinkles in mild disgust.
‘She’s good, fine, yeah,’ Phil says cautiously, before his eyes focus on the water at Tommy’s side, ‘She asked if you needed any more wolfsbane.’
They’ve not really talked much about the methods Tommy uses to subdue his wolf, but he supposes this is still his Alpha—no, his foster-father. He has every right to make sure that Tommy isn’t going to hurt anyone in this house.
‘I’ve got enough for a couple more shifts,’ Tommy says, sipping his water carefully.
Phil flinches. Full-body recoil, before he stares at the water.
‘Is there some in that?’
Tommy nods. ‘You want to check? I need to drink another one before—’
‘Tommy—’ Phil cuts in, looking… upset?, ‘—what do you do when your shift happens?’
He fights the urge to tilt his neck to the side slightly, to submit to the man in front. ‘I just follow the instructions in my file,’ he admits, then winces, ‘But I swear I do it all right, and I’m not dangerous or anything if I do it all…’
He stops rambling when Phil’s hands grip the arm of the chair tightly.
‘Instructions?’ the man grits out, and Tommy nervously looks to both of his foster-brothers, then back to Phil.
‘Yeah?’
‘I didn’t get given any… there wasn’t anything in your file.’
Tommy blinks. ‘Maybe they forgot? I can show you, if you want, so you know that I’m not going to hurt anyone?’
Phil exhales so loudly that Tommy jumps. ‘Mate, I never thought… I know you won’t hurt us. There’s nothing dangerous about you, Tommy.’
Tommy doesn’t know how many times he’s wanted someone to say that. Oddly, he finds it more worrying that Phil immediately places so much trust into him when he’s clearly incapable of keeping his wolf-brain at bay. ‘I’m a wolf,’ he points out, reaching for his water.
Technoblade moves so fast that even Tommy jumps, snatching the water up and returning to his seat. ‘You’re not drinking that shit,’ Techno snarls, eyes flashing crimson.
Tommy darts a look to Phil, but the man is nodding in agreement. ‘This is my fault, I should have known that the human-system would try something like this—’
‘I’m sorry, can someone explain what the fuck is going on?’ Tommy blurts, then flinches when Phil turns to him sharply.
Phil winces, before levelling him with the “parental” stare. ‘Tommy, there’s nothing wrong with shifting. You don’t need to drink wolfsbane… you can shift wherever you want, and you don’t have to hurt yourself to do it.’
Tommy blinks in confusion, acknowledging the words, and then realising that his body is beginning to ache.
‘I have… I need to go,’ Tommy says, raising off the chair and forgetting entirely about the carton of rice on his lap. It spills, and Wilbur’s reaching for him, but Tommy yelps and pulls away from his touch. ‘Don’t, m’changing, don’t come near me, I need—’
He makes it to the stairs, then stumbles up them. He can hear Phil behind him, and Wilbur and Techno’s panicked voices from the living room.
He doesn’t have time. He makes it to his room, then throws himself towards the closet. In his panic to reach the closet, he doesn’t lock the door, or realise that he’s not even bothered to shut it. Inside the dark closet, he quickly wraps himself up in chains, attaches the muzzle and takes a swig of undiluted wolfsbane in the hopes of delaying the inevitable.
It doesn’t work. The first snapping sound makes him gasp, claws piercing his own skin as he tries to tear the clothes from his form.
It takes longer to shift this time. Eventually, his body goes numb and he relaxes, laid out as a wolf on the floor of the closet. The muzzle stops him from grabbing the blanket from the box, so he desperately tries to rise onto his feet, but the manacles stop it. Instead, he’s stuck lying on the floor with no comfort.
A whine tries to break free, only to stop when he hears feet outside.
‘Tommy, mate, are you… are you in there?’
Alpha.
He lets the whine break free, low in the back of his throat and desperate. The handle of the closet turns, and light filters in as he looks up at his Alpha.
Phil goes very still when he sees him. ‘Oh, Tommy,’ Phil whispers, before crouching down.
Behind him, hovering in the doorway to Tommy’s room, the wolf can see his brothers.
Packmates – play – pack – run?
Fingers reach for his gag, while Tommy turns his muzzle into the human hand that stretches out. Behind Phil, feathers ruffle up slightly, and Tommy watches them in amazement. ‘Let me take this off, yeah?’
He tries to shake his head – can’t take it off, dangerous, could hurt – but his Alpha ignores him. The clasp is undone, and Tommy is released from his muzzle.
Instantly, he turns his snout into the hand that’s next to him. It smells familiar, and calms every instinct that’s screaming in the back of his head, so he licks at it and lets his tail beat against the floor.
Phil’s got tears rolling down his cheeks, and Tommy struggles within his confines to try and reach for his Alpha, to ask what’s wrong. When he realises the constraints stop him, he settles for another whine, nuzzling closer.
‘I’m undoing these as well, okay? You’re doing good, Tommy, so good,’ Phil promises, and the restraints around his wrists and ankles come off.
Then he reaches for Tommy’s neck.
It’s an instinct to whine, rolling over onto his back and tipping his head to the side to try and stop the inevitable pain.
‘Shh, you’re okay, I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want this off,’ Phil says in a hushed voice, before the collar is taken off as well.
Tommy is free. Unsure of what to do, he rolls back over and shuffles away from the Alpha a bit, considering his options. Then he barrels forward, knocking into Phil so hard that they both tumble to the floor. Wings spread to try and catch them, but Tommy just barks in delight as Phil laughs, licking at his face and wagging his tail in excitement.
Pack – play – fun – chase?
He yips, nuzzling up to Phil’s chest before promptly remembering he has more pack members that he can harass. On fuzzy feet, he tries to stumble over to them, only falling over a couple of times before reaching Wilbur and Techno.
‘Aw, hey Tommy! Look at you, such a good pup, you want to play? We can go outside if you want,’ Wilbur exclaims, looking delighted by Tommy licking at his hands. Even Techno grins when Tommy turns his attention to him instead.
‘Careful, boys, he’s got wolfsbane in his system. Be gentle with him,’ Phil scolds, and Tommy tries to understand the words.
He doesn’t bother, in the end. Instead, he races back to his closet to retrieve his blanket, before trotting back to his brothers’ sides. Then, with some convincing, he manages to get them to join him on his bed, and flops down dramatically over Techno’s chest.
‘You overgrown puppy,’ Techno complains, as fingers thread between Tommy’s ears. The wolfling barks, then flinches, then licks at Techno’s cheek.
‘Dog slobber,’ Wilbur teases his brother, then yelps when Tommy pounces on him instead.
It’s the first time he’s felt free in a very long time.
**
The moment his bones begin to snap, Tommy stumbles away from the bed. He hears Wilbur mutter a protest in his sleep, stretching out to try and find Tommy, but he’s already made it to the bathroom and has slammed the door between them.
He can’t lock it, considering he’s a wolf, but he can push his bodyweight back as his back snaps.
‘Tommy? Fuck, is he okay?’
He yelps, a whine that turns into a human gasp as his body shifts back and he finds himself laying on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.
‘Can we come in?’ Wilbur says through the door, as Tommy pants out exhaustion.
Oh no. They… he wasn’t restrained. Phil let him out.
‘Boys? What… oh. Tommy, mate, I know you’re probably pretty confused right now.’
He aches. Not just from the shift, but from the pain of having everything he wanted last night, and losing it all this morning.
‘But we’re going to be right out here, when you’re ready to talk. Well, maybe in the kitchen, because I’m sure you’re hungry and you probably want to have this conversation with clothes on.’
He can’t help it, he laughs. A weak sound, before his head thuds back against the door of the bathroom. Outside, he hears Phil’s smile in the man’s voice as he speaks, ‘Yeah, I figured. We’ll be downstairs, mate. Take your time, but just remember you’re safe here. Nobody’s angry, and we love you.’
He says it so easily, so freely, that Tommy can’t help but believe part of it.
‘Okay,’ he whispers back, sealing his fate.
Maybe he can finally have his freedom.