“I-I don’t know.” Dimitra said, her frown stiff and eyes still dewy. “I just know
I hate when you get hurt. It makes my heart sad, especially when you get hurt because of me.” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dewey was quiet and contemplative, calculating what the right thing to do was.
“Dimitra, you matter more to me than anything else...I’ll quit, for now. Until after my first shift, after I’m stronger and better for the both of us.” Dewey tried. “I’ll train more with Ace, I’ll shoulder responsibilities with Sasha. I will consider my safety.”
Dimitra sniffled. She didn't want to force Dewey to do anything, but his safety was what mattered most to her, and if he had to quit for the time being, then that's what mattered to her.
"Do you mean it?" She asked him. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dewey had been doing just what he said, taking it easy, which was when possible, just hanging out with Dimitra (and Sasha). He’d been training, working out and going to the shooting range; only getting more muscled and mature looking. And by those standards he was looking more like his Dad every day, if not for Ace’s shaved head, they’d be impossible to tell apart from behind. While he had been feeling fine post prom night, tonight he wasn’t feeling well. In fact, he hadn’t been feeling good all day. He was pale and feverish, he felt weak and lethargic. Ace scolded him many times as Dewey cleaned the apartment and tidied up in spite of feeling and looking bad.
“You’re sick, go lay down.” Ace encouraged.
“Darla is coming over, I can’t let her see how you live.” Dewey argued weakly, wiping down the kitchen counters.
“I’m staying at her place tonight, she’s only going to be here a second. She’s picking me up, not moving in.” Ace argued back.
Dewey ignored him and continued to busy about until it was too much to bare. It was the evening now, he finally broke down and retreated to his bed. Another argument ensued about whether or not Ace should cancel. But Dewey was defiant and stubborn, armed with a damp rag on his forehead and a trash can by his bed, he insisted he would be fine. Reluctantly, Ace left him behind but phone the Nikitin’s, to send someone to check on him later.
And so now Dewey tossed and turned in his bed, his breathing was ragged and he could feel he had broken out in a cold sweat. Was it the flu? Dewey hadn’t even considered this was him changing, even with the brigh full moon shining in though his blinds.
“I could have, no, should have really come alone, Dimitra.” Ivan protested as he and his younger sister pulled up to Ace and Dewey’s apartment building in a cab. He reached into his pocket to grab his wallet to count out the payment, meanwhile, Dimitra looked like she was crawling out of her skin, eager to get into the building and get to Dewey.
“Ace said Doody was sick, right? I’m his girlfriend, or fiancée, whatever, I should be with him.” Dimitra argued.
“You’re his girlfriend,” Ivan began as he held out the cash to the driver, “but if he’s sick then you shouldn’t be near him. We don’t need you getting sick too.”
“He won’t get me sick. His germs know my germs, they wouldn’t let that happen.” Dimitra said. She watched her brother’s face twist in confusion at that and she gave an annoyed click of her tongue before shoving him. “Get out, let’s go up already.”
Ivan and Dimitra got out of the car and headed into the building. Dimitra was in such a hurry that Ivan nearly missed the elevator she hopped in so eagerly. As they headed up, Ivan went over his key ring and found Ace’s apartment key. He and the other elder Nikitin kids all had copies as a safety measure, though it mostly served to do small house favors for Ace occasionally (grabbing work stuff, watering plants, etc). The elevator dinged and let them out and Dimitra rushes ahead, flapping an arm at Ivan.
“Would you hurry up, Ivan! He could be dying!” She scolded.
“Ace said it was just the flu, keep your panties out of a twist.” Ivan rolled his eyes slightly, earning an annoyed huff from his baby sister.
When they both got to the door, Ivan barely had time to unlock it before Dimitra came tumbling in, shirking off her coat at the door in one motion before barreling towards Dewey’s room.
“Doody!” She fussed as she entered. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dewey heard the door fly open but he had no energy to react, he was slumped over on his side and he rag was cold now and had slid off his forehead. He coudn’t tell if he was too hot or cold, he was sweating and shivering; his lips were white and dry, cracked and bleeding. His instinct told him to hold tight to his comforter, he had wrapped himself up tight in it’s padded fabric, grasping the edges with a white knuckled grip.
Weakly, he looked up at Dimitra, in his head he was sure he mustered a smile but in fact his mouth barely twitched.
“Hey you..” He greeted dryly, as though he didn’t look or feel like he was dying.
Dimitra hurried over to his bed, reaching out to cup his face. She let out a little gasp as she gently turned his face to look at him closely.
“Dewey, you look so sick! You should have called me!” She said to him. “Ivan! Wet this rag! Boil some water for tea!” She demanded as she whirled with the rag and chucked it towards Ivan just as he was entering the room.
He made a face but obliged and exited to do as his sister said.
“Oh Dewey, what are your symptoms? What can I do to help? Should I phone Peter?” She fussed. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
“No...no, I’m just...tired.” Dewey groaned, tucking his face into the comforter. As beautiful as Dimitra was, it was hurting his eye to try to keep it open and look at anything. By now there was a gradually dull ache in his bones, but it suddenly escalated to sharp; shooting pain from his spine and to his fingertips. He let out a pained yell, actually biting onto his comforter to stifle his yelling. There wasn’t a way he would’ve noticed, but upon yelling and biting down on the blanket, his jaw looked wider. His face elongated somehow, in a vague and anthropomorphic way. His teeth were shifting and his canines were suddenly long and pointed.
Dimitra let out a little shriek as Dewey yelled and began...changing?
Oh, so this was what was wrong.
“Ivan! He’s shifting!” Dimitra yelled, reeling back to give Dewey space. She was still scrambling when two hands grabbed her up by her armpits and dragged her back faster. She looked up to see Ivan, who was watching Dewey closely. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dewey continued to writhe and yell, thrashing around under the blanket. He felt like all his bones were breaking and his skin was on fire. At one point in his tossing, the blanket got flung off and away, revealing his bones visibly shifting and moving under his skin. There were tears in the flesh on his back, revealing grey tufts of fur; sticky with blood as the skin parted around it. He snarled into his hands, though they didn’t resemble hands that much anymore, before falling onto all fours on the mattress. Things were stopping, or at least slowing down. He wasn’t quiet there yet, he panted hard into his sheets; grateful for the break.
“Dewey, are you okay?” Dimitra went to hurry towards Dewey again, but was caught short by Ivan.
“Dimitra, give him a minute. Remember, he needs space.” Ivan tried to gently remind, though Dimitra didn’t look like the reminder meant much. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dewey continued to pant, he wondered if this was the worst of it? He was regretting not asking any questions about what to expect from the change. Just as he was about to open his mouth to answer Dimitra, everything started moving under his skin again. This time in rapid succession, he let out a long and agonizing yell as everything snapped into place.
As a wolf he weirdly looked the same, muscled shoulders and legs, evident at a distance even under a thick pelt of grey and brown fur. He panted, but now it was how an animal would do it; mouth open and black lips pulled back, revealing deadly teeth and a long pink tongue. He whimpered, which was a weird sound in his ears, at least coming from himself.
At the sound, Dimitra ripped away from Ivan and went to Dewey. She dropped to her knees and reached out to cup at his (dog) face.
“Oh, Dewey...I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t comfortable.” Dimitra frowned, her eyes a bit dewey. She was blaming herself heavily for this predicament. It was her fault Dewey was a werewolf now and it was her fault he had to endure the aches, pains, and tragedy that all came with it. She sniffed a bit, keeping her tears in check, and proceeded to lean in, wrapping her arms around his furry neck so she could sink into him. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
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