Gabe sat on top of Pete, just off the dirt path. The boy in the red hoodie was gone, but Pete could still smell him and the muffins. But most importantly, him. Gabe was tall and lanky and but he was still heavy and crushing Pete's stomach. He did not care though.
"What are you doing?" he said, glaring down at Pete, who was glaring up at him. "You go to get me food, and I find you reenacting fairy tails. We eat people food, dude, not people."
Pete wriggled and pushed at Gabe's side until he got free and rolled away from him. He sat up.
"I didn't go to get you anything," he said. "And you know...the kid was off to his grandmother's house."
Gabe looked amused. "Well, you won't be eating her, either."
"I don't plan to," Pete snapped. He looked down the empty trail for a moment before continuing. "I didn't want to eat him. He did smell good, though... and he had these stupid sideburns, though they kind of worked..."
Gabe raised an eyebrow, even more amused looking. Pete glared and said, "I was just trying to scare him into dropping the basket."
"You could bring him in!" Gabe said, sounding like he'd had the best idea ever. Probably because Pete hadn't said anything remotely ...nice (if you could call it that) about anyone, since he'd turned. Pete growled.
"Shut up," he said, getting up and starting in that direction.
"Are you getting him?" Gabe called after, hopefully.
"I'm getting the muffins."
When Patrick got on the porch at his grandmother's house, he turned around to make sure no one was behind him. It was dark now, but he didn't see anything creepy or suspicious. He knocked on the door, then opened it.
"Grandma?" he called out as he wandered inside. Without waiting for a response, he continued on - because the lights were on and the door was unlocked and she wasn't hard of hearing or anything so. "You should probably start locking the door, grandma, there's hobo's in the woods. At least, there's one, and he's kind of psycho and you know? He might actually be a werewolf..."
Patrick had been considering the possibility of that since he'd seen that creepy, wolf-man like face growling at him.
He walked through the living room, pulling off his hood and looking around to see it empty. "Huh," he said, as he moved to the bedroom. The door was open and the light was on and he moved in. Under the covers was a lump like a person, and Patrick moved to the bed and set the basket down. For a second, he worried maybe she wasn't answering because she'd died, but when he touched her shoulder, she moved.
Actually, he moved, because it was the man from the woods who rolled over and grinned up at Patrick.
Pete snatched him by the hood of his red sweater, before he'd escaped, pulling him back and without having planned very well, getting crushed for the second time that day by the weight of a person. It turned into a wrestling match with fist from the little red riding hood boy, but Pete had claws and super-human strength, so he inevitably won.
He was the one sitting on someone now, holding down the boys arms and grinning at him with a normal face this time, but baring his disturbingly sharp teeth. Patrick wriggled and fought under him but it was futile.
"Get off me."
Pete shook his head. "It wouldn't have come to this if you had just been a little more polite. I mean, I said please."
Patrick glared. "Where is she?"
"Who?"
"My grandmother!" he shouted, trying harder to break free. Patrick was pretty set on his first course of action kneeing the guy in the balls.
"Oh," Pete said, glancing around the room. "I have no idea. She wasn't here. Maybe you should have called first."
"Did you eat her?"
"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Pete was a little offended, but he remembered he had been acting rather wolf-like since he met the boy, and he had played the whole hide in grandma's bed bit. So he really couldn't blame him for jumping to that conclusion.
"I don't believe you."
"Well you should. Really, If I ate her, you'd never shared you muffins with me."
Patrick stared, incredibly confused.
"You seriously just want the muffins?" he asked, baffled.
"Yes."
"Fine. Have the fucking muffins. Take the whole basket, I don't care. Just get off me and tell me what you did with my grandmother."
"Awesome!" Pete said, and was off Patrick in an instant. He plopped down in the chair in the corner of the room, opening the basket now in his lap. As he unwrapped a muffin, he looked back up at Patrick, who had been too startled to actually move much. "I really didn't do anything with your grandma."
"Then where is she?" Patrick snapped, sitting up.
"How the hell should I know? Bridge? She's your grandma."
It was silent for a while as Pete happily scarfed down the food in the basket. It was all rather tasty. Patrick stared at him, curious but glaring.
"What are you?"
Pete glanced up.
"Hm? I thought you knew. What was it you were saying...a hobo werewolf?"
Patrick folded his arms, huffily. "How did you know where I was going?"
"I followed you. This was the only house down the last trail you took, so I kind of assumed. I'm Pete, by the way. Do I really look like a hobo?" Pete stuffed the final snack in his mouth and glanced down at his clothes.
"Yes, you do," Patrick said, watching as Pete pouted. Getting over this, Pete hopped up and started moving around the room, looking at things on the dresser and the night stands, then going through drawers.
"What is wrong with you?" Patrick snapped, getting to his feet. "You don't just go through someones things."
Pete shrugged, closing the drawer and moving to open the one next to it. "I thought she might have something less homeless I could wear."
"Stop it."
Pete ignored him and snatched up a CD and examined it.
"Thanks for muffins, Patrick," he said, turning around to smile at the boy. Patrick's face fell, a little horrified, and Pete knew he'd been right. The CD in his hand said "to grandma from patrick" and the kid kind of looked like a Patrick.
"How'd you know that-" but Pete shut the drawer and walked out into the living room, CD in hand and Patrick was no longer curious.
"Put it back," he was nearly yelling as he followed Pete into the living room. But Pete wasn't going to, and Patrick knew that. What he didn't know was that Pete hadn't listened to music in nearly two months and that it happened to be his thing. He stuck it in the CD player then stopped.
"This is music, right?" he asked. "You're not like, reciting poetry or like, reading a book out loud or something?"
Patrick glared.
"Eh, I wanna hear it either way," Pete decided, and pressed play.
It was in fact music, decent acoustic recordings of things and lyrics that Pete was hardly impressed by. However, this magical voice came out of the speakers and it was official, he was just in love with this kid. Now how to convince him to let him keep him?
"You should join our pack," he said cheerfully.
"What." Patrick was dumbfounded. What were these words even supposed to mean? He knew the man was insane, though, so he really didn't expect much more sense than that to come from him.
"It'll be awesome. Gabe already approved you. Not that I would ask his opinion, but..."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Be a werewolf with me. We can play music all the time, and we can run around and be best friends. You'll love it, I swear." Pete grinned, and Patrick, for a moment, looked tempted.
"No. You're insane, and kind of annoying."
"Fair. But you'd get used to me. I think we'll get along great once you do." Pete considered just biting him and dragging him back, but Gabe would be pissed and then Patrick would be strong enough to beat the shit out of him for it and take off. That would really put a damper on their romance.
"I'm going home," Patrick said, pulling his hood on. "Please don't follow me this time."
Pete frowned. "Okay...well, if you ever want to...or if you ever just wanna come play your music with us, we live right around here, you're welcome anytime because I just love your voice."
Patrick was glad he was turned away and almost out the door because that last comment made his cheeks turn red.
He was out and hurrying down the trail back toward his house. That was honestly the weirdest outing he had ever had, and now he really understood why he didn't go outside around here. He wasn't going to be making that mistake again.
But the more he thought about it, the less unappealing the idea was. The guy was crazy, sure, but he seemed to just be a harmless idiot. Also...who in their right mind wouldn't want to be a supernatural being?
He was also just offered a place to play music all the time, and this Pete seemed to even like his. That was better than his mom's reaction to what she called his noise. She complimented him, but she absolutely hated his drums.
Patrick was pretty sure Pete would think his drums were awesome... He sighed, his heart racing a little because this was really going to be the stupidest decision he ever made, and he turned around coming face to face with Pete.
He glared. "Didn't I say not to follow me?"
Pete chuckled and raised his hands up in surrender.
"I swear I was just walking back to my camp. We just so happen to need the same path."
Patrick really didn't believe him, and Pete really wasn't being completely honest because he was kind of following him, but whatever. Patrick grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Can...Can I still be part of your...pack, or whatever?"
Pete grinned all toothy and happy, and Patrick's stomach felt a little funny - maybe a sign to take that question back.
"Really?"
He didn't, though, and responded with a small, "Yes."
"What are you doing?" he said, glaring down at Pete, who was glaring up at him. "You go to get me food, and I find you reenacting fairy tails. We eat people food, dude, not people."
Pete wriggled and pushed at Gabe's side until he got free and rolled away from him. He sat up.
"I didn't go to get you anything," he said. "And you know...the kid was off to his grandmother's house."
Gabe looked amused. "Well, you won't be eating her, either."
"I don't plan to," Pete snapped. He looked down the empty trail for a moment before continuing. "I didn't want to eat him. He did smell good, though... and he had these stupid sideburns, though they kind of worked..."
Gabe raised an eyebrow, even more amused looking. Pete glared and said, "I was just trying to scare him into dropping the basket."
"You could bring him in!" Gabe said, sounding like he'd had the best idea ever. Probably because Pete hadn't said anything remotely ...nice (if you could call it that) about anyone, since he'd turned. Pete growled.
"Shut up," he said, getting up and starting in that direction.
"Are you getting him?" Gabe called after, hopefully.
"I'm getting the muffins."
When Patrick got on the porch at his grandmother's house, he turned around to make sure no one was behind him. It was dark now, but he didn't see anything creepy or suspicious. He knocked on the door, then opened it.
"Grandma?" he called out as he wandered inside. Without waiting for a response, he continued on - because the lights were on and the door was unlocked and she wasn't hard of hearing or anything so. "You should probably start locking the door, grandma, there's hobo's in the woods. At least, there's one, and he's kind of psycho and you know? He might actually be a werewolf..."
Patrick had been considering the possibility of that since he'd seen that creepy, wolf-man like face growling at him.
He walked through the living room, pulling off his hood and looking around to see it empty. "Huh," he said, as he moved to the bedroom. The door was open and the light was on and he moved in. Under the covers was a lump like a person, and Patrick moved to the bed and set the basket down. For a second, he worried maybe she wasn't answering because she'd died, but when he touched her shoulder, she moved.
Actually, he moved, because it was the man from the woods who rolled over and grinned up at Patrick.
Pete snatched him by the hood of his red sweater, before he'd escaped, pulling him back and without having planned very well, getting crushed for the second time that day by the weight of a person. It turned into a wrestling match with fist from the little red riding hood boy, but Pete had claws and super-human strength, so he inevitably won.
He was the one sitting on someone now, holding down the boys arms and grinning at him with a normal face this time, but baring his disturbingly sharp teeth. Patrick wriggled and fought under him but it was futile.
"Get off me."
Pete shook his head. "It wouldn't have come to this if you had just been a little more polite. I mean, I said please."
Patrick glared. "Where is she?"
"Who?"
"My grandmother!" he shouted, trying harder to break free. Patrick was pretty set on his first course of action kneeing the guy in the balls.
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"Did you eat her?"
"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Pete was a little offended, but he remembered he had been acting rather wolf-like since he met the boy, and he had played the whole hide in grandma's bed bit. So he really couldn't blame him for jumping to that conclusion.
"I don't believe you."
"Well you should. Really, If I ate her, you'd never shared you muffins with me."
Patrick stared, incredibly confused.
"You seriously just want the muffins?" he asked, baffled.
"Yes."
"Fine. Have the fucking muffins. Take the whole basket, I don't care. Just get off me and tell me what you did with my grandmother."
"Awesome!" Pete said, and was off Patrick in an instant. He plopped down in the chair in the corner of the room, opening the basket now in his lap. As he unwrapped a muffin, he looked back up at Patrick, who had been too startled to actually move much. "I really didn't do anything with your grandma."
"Then where is she?" Patrick snapped, sitting up.
"How the hell should I know? Bridge? She's your grandma."
It was silent for a while as Pete happily scarfed down the food in the basket. It was all rather tasty. Patrick stared at him, curious but glaring.
"What are you?"
Pete glanced up.
"Hm? I thought you knew. What was it you were saying...a hobo werewolf?"
Patrick folded his arms, huffily. "How did you know where I was going?"
"I followed you. This was the only house down the last trail you took, so I kind of assumed. I'm Pete, by the way. Do I really look like a hobo?" Pete stuffed the final snack in his mouth and glanced down at his clothes.
"Yes, you do," Patrick said, watching as Pete pouted. Getting over this, Pete hopped up and started moving around the room, looking at things on the dresser and the night stands, then going through drawers.
"What is wrong with you?" Patrick snapped, getting to his feet. "You don't just go through someones things."
Pete shrugged, closing the drawer and moving to open the one next to it. "I thought she might have something less homeless I could wear."
"Stop it."
Pete ignored him and snatched up a CD and examined it.
"Thanks for muffins, Patrick," he said, turning around to smile at the boy. Patrick's face fell, a little horrified, and Pete knew he'd been right. The CD in his hand said "to grandma from patrick" and the kid kind of looked like a Patrick.
"How'd you know that-" but Pete shut the drawer and walked out into the living room, CD in hand and Patrick was no longer curious.
"Put it back," he was nearly yelling as he followed Pete into the living room. But Pete wasn't going to, and Patrick knew that. What he didn't know was that Pete hadn't listened to music in nearly two months and that it happened to be his thing. He stuck it in the CD player then stopped.
"This is music, right?" he asked. "You're not like, reciting poetry or like, reading a book out loud or something?"
Patrick glared.
"Eh, I wanna hear it either way," Pete decided, and pressed play.
It was in fact music, decent acoustic recordings of things and lyrics that Pete was hardly impressed by. However, this magical voice came out of the speakers and it was official, he was just in love with this kid. Now how to convince him to let him keep him?
"You should join our pack," he said cheerfully.
"What." Patrick was dumbfounded. What were these words even supposed to mean? He knew the man was insane, though, so he really didn't expect much more sense than that to come from him.
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"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Be a werewolf with me. We can play music all the time, and we can run around and be best friends. You'll love it, I swear." Pete grinned, and Patrick, for a moment, looked tempted.
"No. You're insane, and kind of annoying."
"Fair. But you'd get used to me. I think we'll get along great once you do." Pete considered just biting him and dragging him back, but Gabe would be pissed and then Patrick would be strong enough to beat the shit out of him for it and take off. That would really put a damper on their romance.
"I'm going home," Patrick said, pulling his hood on. "Please don't follow me this time."
Pete frowned. "Okay...well, if you ever want to...or if you ever just wanna come play your music with us, we live right around here, you're welcome anytime because I just love your voice."
Patrick was glad he was turned away and almost out the door because that last comment made his cheeks turn red.
He was out and hurrying down the trail back toward his house. That was honestly the weirdest outing he had ever had, and now he really understood why he didn't go outside around here. He wasn't going to be making that mistake again.
But the more he thought about it, the less unappealing the idea was. The guy was crazy, sure, but he seemed to just be a harmless idiot. Also...who in their right mind wouldn't want to be a supernatural being?
He was also just offered a place to play music all the time, and this Pete seemed to even like his. That was better than his mom's reaction to what she called his noise. She complimented him, but she absolutely hated his drums.
Patrick was pretty sure Pete would think his drums were awesome... He sighed, his heart racing a little because this was really going to be the stupidest decision he ever made, and he turned around coming face to face with Pete.
He glared. "Didn't I say not to follow me?"
Pete chuckled and raised his hands up in surrender.
"I swear I was just walking back to my camp. We just so happen to need the same path."
Patrick really didn't believe him, and Pete really wasn't being completely honest because he was kind of following him, but whatever. Patrick grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Can...Can I still be part of your...pack, or whatever?"
Pete grinned all toothy and happy, and Patrick's stomach felt a little funny - maybe a sign to take that question back.
"Really?"
He didn't, though, and responded with a small, "Yes."
"Awesome!" Pete said and grabbed him.
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