Of Scales and wings and Things that Go Bump (in the night)
Title: Of scales and wings and things that go Bump (in the night)
Chapter 7 / (?)
Fandom: Losers
Genre: AU
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: roughly 2500
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie or Comics The Losers or characters within. I do not make money from writing or posting this fic.
Some minor violence and previously referenced topics.
further explenations coming.. soonish. >_>
Emocezi beta'd and laughed. Hard. Her thoughts on maturity spawned this chapter.
Chapter 7
Jensen had been bouncing between hyper and nearly sluggish for nearly a month, going through a multistage cycle that started with a hard PT routine and bottomed out with him curled up in bed for most of the day, twitching and only remotely responsive. He'd briefly seen one medic, who told him to push his fluids, take some damn multivitamins, and get some sleep. His team surrounded him, taking advantage of actually getting things done during his “manic” phase, so they could let him rest when he finally crashed. But it had been a month, and a full cycle would last from two days to five. Clay was irritated, Roque was getting pissy, and Cougar was always lurking. Jensen swore he could feel the other dragon's eyes on him, all the time, no matter what condition he was in. Tensions ran high, and when Pooch finally told Clay he was taking a week of leave, and he wanted things normal by the time he came back, everyone had realized it had been more than long enough.
No one knew how to fix Jensen, though. Cougar was the only one that kept a predator's fixed attention on him, and he had a rather large suspicion about what was happening. He'd seen his brother do it nearly a century ago, right before the daft dragon had found himself jumping off a cliff, chasing a kite, and came back with a pretty female. Except Jensen didn't know how to channel all the extra energy being poured through his body in preparation of his maturity. He used it like he usually would, and when he'd used too much, he would crash long enough for his other side to reboot itself.
He'd noticed, in all his watching, that Jensen had managed to completely drop conscious control of his attributes. Scales would flit onto his body, half form, and either flake off or disappear. He often went for periods of time without blinking the proper set of eyelids, and he'd replaced three keyboards from sudden claws that would form without warning.
Tension was skyrocketing, the team was close to getting found out, and Jensen still carried a grudge over Cougar's.. 'snacking habits', as he'd one time referred to it. Roque did the dirty work, though, and as Jensen approached the down slide into another bottom-out, the man shot him. With a tranq.
It was strong enough to keep Clay out for several hours, mild enough Cougar could shrug it off in less than one. Jensen slept just over two and a half before slowly returning to the land of the living. His energy drain induced apathy kept him mellowed on the couch, with the three teammates at the base with him boxing him in. Mellow enough until Cougar circled around and took position directly behind Jensen, hiding in that blind spot.
Jensen immediately bristled, a foul sound crawling from his throat as his body refused to budge yet, glued to the couch and barely sitting up. He craned his neck around, trying to get a fix on the “threat”, until a sharp knife slid through his shirt. Jensen snapped forward, glaring at Roque as the man sheathed a giant of a knife.
“Stand down, Jensen. You haven't been yourself for a while now, and it's affecting all of us. As our on-team medic and the only one who can understand at least the basics of what might be happening to you for other reasons, Cougar is going to check you. I need your cooperation.” It's Clay's voice that spoke, but Jensen glared at Roque, who was a definite threat with that weapon. Clawed fingers gripped his neck, and suddenly he felt nothing. His body went limp in Cougar's grasp. The vocal complaints disappeared, although the level of venom in his expression jumped sky-high.
Another dragon had him by the neck, from behind. The hold kept him in control, kept him from fighting. Jensen's inner dragon screamed and raged in indignation, even as the body was unable to retaliate. He could feel the burning tingle of scales along his skin, of claws piercing out from under his nails. Seven and a half months of dancing against instinct once he realized what Cougar was, and Jensen knew with cold clarity that he was done. Done grasping at his humanity, done ignoring the itch to challenge Cougar. When he was let go, it was on. No more behaving. Cougar fucking knew better.
The shirt was pulled away, revealing the spreading trail of scales patterning out along his torso. Creamy tan along his chest and toward his stomach, the scales were shades darker than his skin, ridged, and hard. Fingers, Cougar's free hand, probed the growing edge of scale-skin, breath passing softly by his ear as Cougar leaned forward to look down Jensen's body. Then the hand on his nape leaned him forward, the shirt being yanked free of limp arms, and those fingers brushed over his back. Scales were growing here, too, slightly bigger than the ones on his stomach, and mottled grey and tan. There was probing pressure now, running along his spine and sweeping outward. The pressure hit those spots, just along his shoulder blades, and he shrieked.
It was the first sound he'd made since he'd succumbed to the debilitating hold, the cry sharp and painful. Clay and Roque stood up and circled around behind him as Cougar stroked along his shoulder blades, one side at a time. Each firm touch drove more sounds from Jensen's throat, the skin and meat underneath radiating brilliant pain. It felt like someone kept driving a blade into his back. He couldn't see his team, or the room, eyes hazed and half shut, but he could feel and smell them, behind him. Threats. They would hurt him more...
He missed the point when his breathing accelerated, plummeting from easy breaths to little wheezing gasps. Blood pounded in his head, carrying the pain in vehement, dizzying circles. But he couldn't move, the fine tremors in his muscles the only thing other thing that gave away his rising panic. The prodding hand had left, but his muscles still burned. His back ached horribly, his front tingled from rapid scale growth, and his chest inside gasped and twisted and pulled.
The pressure on his neck was suddenly gone, and Jensen slumped to the floor. He could hear the men talking, but not the words. He didn't understand what was happening. His body felt buzzed, and drained, and wrecked. He flirted with the edge of promising darkness as the lack of oxygen caught up with him. It'd be good, so good to give in. It would be a release- no. It would only release his human conscience. He could feel it, lingering, with sudden clarity. The dragon in him was waiting, for the instant he gave up, it would push his body past the restrictions and destroy. Passion, cold fire, and the desire to taste blood. His head cleared as he forced his breath to calm and pull in the amount of oxygen it needed. The driven haze of his dragon didn't cede its hunger for retaliation. He curled on the floor, rubbing his back against the couch as he searched for the men. He was momentarily past thinking them of his teammates- they had shot him, pinned him, and abused the trust he'd placed freely in their hands. He could hear Clay ordering him down, heard him say that he wasn't being himself. He heard Roque mutter something about changes. Cougar said nothing. The gold in his eyes was louder than any words.
Jensen, the dragon, accepted the bold challenge. Human body, decorated in ridged scales and fierce talons, pounced across the room with far more grace and agility than it ever had. Cougar merely flashed sharp white teeth and flicked his fork tongue out, leaning back slightly from the arc of the jump. His hand connected with a shoulder and Jensen crumpled. A heartbeat passed before he was up, ducking into Cougar's reach and snapping in the sniper's face as claws dug into ribs. Cougar slammed an elbow into him before grabbing his scruff and bodily throwing him across the room. “Do it. Change.” Jensen screamed, wordlessly. His body couldn't, refused to take those next steps that would allow him to achieve proper dragon form. His physical body was a waste, weak, pathetic. He needed his true body, needed the power, size, and status. “Change or I will hurt you. If you cannot change then submit.” He got the look he deserved for daring to suggest that Jensen would, could ever submit. He stalked back into the middle of the room, and Cougar circled in tandem. The sniper was losing his human shell, scales spreading like spilt paint, forked tongue tasting the air. Then he hissed, low and loud, the sound rattling like dry scales chafing against each other.
For a few minutes it was a bad melee, fists and claws striking armored skin and teeth making close-call snaps. But the anger pouring from Jensen as his dragon fought for authority was no match for Cougar's ease and familiarity with his body, the smoothness he could use his attributes, and decades of practice. A punch tossed at Cougar's jaw was turned against him as Cougar grabbed his arm and rolled Jensen's body. The larger man ended up face down on the floor, arm tight up on his back, Cougar's knee in his lower back. The hold, military and self-defense taught, wasn't easy to break away from, and there was threatening pressure against his neck again.
“I'm going to relax my grip, and you're going to stay still and listen to me. You can challenge me again in a few weeks.”
The words filtered past the haze fighting had only encouraged, and the position threatened to make far worse. He's speaking soft and slow, but firm, and when he felt Jensen was actually listening, pulse soothing under his skin, he continued. “You're reaching maturity. I’ve never seen it outside the clans, but it is true. Taste my words, the honesty. I cannot deceive you.”
Jensen did, tasting the air, feeling the words with utter suspicion, finding them sound. But that only brought him puzzlement. He'd already gone through puberty- no, Cougar said he was reaching maturity. Was there a difference? His mind and instincts screamed yes, but he was unable to grasp why at that moment. And against better judgment - or ruffling instinct- Jensen let himself fall limp and still in the hold, let his body imply submission. There was plenty of slow reactions and testing of movement before finally the two stared at each other, Cougar bereft of his hat as he stood, glaring down at Jensen. The hacker was sitting on the floor, once again peeling and picking at his scales. His arms were molting in patches, but his torso had yet to loosen. He flicked a quarter size patch of scales off a finger. “What's going on with me? I know I’ve been worse than usual, and I don't just lose control like this. It's been damn near a cold war between us since the last time you did something stupid enough to call out my dragon. Don't glare at me, the scales were reflexive to the damn snowstorm. You were the one that took it up a notch.” He glared back at the sniper, knowing he was rambling but not caring. “I've been on edge long enough to be too dangerous. I'm not better when I'm riding the edge, Cougar, no matter how much adrenalin highs can help focus and sharpen the situation. Have I said this makes no sense, yet? It really doesn't. We all have little quirks, giveaways, if you will. I always had more than my sister. My dad had a couple, not a lot. Things filtered through. But even when I was told what our family heritage was- no one mentioned anything like this. And the pain in my back was never there before, either. It only hurts when you go probing at those spots. And the damn energy spikes and these fucking mood swings. It's FUBAR, Cougs.” His hands had started to shake as the rush receded, endorphins and adrenalin levels settling toward normal. It left his muscles trembling in fine spasms and his hands were unsettled as he scraped at a bit of scale. A still sharp nail twitched, and suddenly crimson blood trickled down his arm. Jensen swore colorfully at the wound. It didn't hurt, yet. “Cougs, I need a wet towel..” There was no response. “Cougar?”
Cougar was staring at the bloody stripe on his arm, eyes still edged in multiple colors. There was something- not a hunger, but deep interest, in his gaze. Jensen hurriedly glanced around the room. Clay and Roque were gone, probably left when they started fighting. He was alone with Cougar. Jensen narrowed his eyes and pressed his hand hard over the slight wound, hiding it from direct sight as he encouraged it to staunch and clot. Cougar's eyes traveled slowly up Jensen's arm until he finally met the hacker's eyes, narrowed and scowling. “Maturity. Explain.”
“Your dragon's maturity.” There was a moment where Cougar seemed to be searching for the right words, then he merely shrugged. “You are adult; your dragon is not. He has not achieved full adult maturity.”
Oh. Jensen thought about it, considering the real age difference between himself and Cougar, even though Cougar only looked a couple years older than him. It would make sense that dragons hit general puberty later than humans. “What counts as full adult maturity?” He carefully checks under his clamped fingers; the bleeding has slowed but leaks slightly. Another minute of pressure wouldn't hurt.
Cougar inhaled, the action audible in the suddenly quiet room. “Territory, full sexual awareness, seeking one's mate. You'll be aggressive and irritable until you balance.”
Jensen slumped, sighing. Great, he was expected to have mood swings for a while. It sounded so.. girly. “Am I going to acquire any odd tastes, preferences?”
Cougar shrugged. “Not likely. Though if you ever want to hunt, I will go with you. Si usted lo desea.” If you wish it. He grinned wickedly at Jensen's glare. “I never said we had to hunt humans, egglet.”
A growl rolled from Jensen's throat at the prodding, but he swallowed it and sulked instead. A moment later his face lit up.
“Does this mean I can borrow your rifle? … Cougar?”
…
“Cougar??”
…
“No.”
…
“Please?”
…
“Pleeeease?”
…
“NO.”
…
“Dammit.”