Samurai Flamenco (Werewolf) - First Snow [Gotou/Masayoshi]

[scriveyner]

Title: First Snow
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Werewolf AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1430
Summary: "Our secret," the winter spirit said with a smile, a finger to his lips.



Masayoshi lifted his head sleepily from atop Gotou's back. The wind had picked up a little, and it rattled the door in its frame. He yawned and slowly hoisted himself to his feet, stretching all the way out and feeling his joints crack just a little, before padding to the half-closed door and nosing it aside.

It had been cold for weeks, now. The trees had lost all their leaves and would cast vague, menacing skeletal shadows across the ground ... if the moon could be seen tonight. It was hidden, though, covered away from them by a heavy mass of dark clouds, blotting out its light and leaving the world shrouded in darkness.

The lack of moonlight apparently made werewolves lethargic. Gotou hadn't been interested in running tonight, opting to curl into a warm pile of dark fur in the mud room at the back of the house. Masayoshi usually couldn't bear to be parted with him – they spent so much time apart as it was; Gotou's shifts long and daily in the police box that was now under his command, and Masayoshi with his occasional stints modeling and acting. So he'd settled in for a nap, half on top of Gotou.

Now, however. Gotou flicked his ears and tilted his head back, looking at Masayoshi standing at the door. He gave a long, slow yawn, and Masayoshi looked back at him, tail raised and wagging slightly. They could talk, like this ... but they often chose not to, instead communicating by head tilts and exaggerated sighs. Gotou licked his chops and then settled back down, closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

Masayoshi's tail drooped, and he looked back out the door. This was still new to him, this body, this feeling. He wanted to run among the trees, chase after smaller creatures, exert himself until his lungs burned and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Gotou had years of this, to be used to it, to feel unremarkable in the change. Masayoshi ... not so much.

His decision made, he slid out the door into the darkness. They'd been here for a few months, he knew the lay of the land. He'd run for a bit, out to the old rock formation they'd marked as their own (seeing Gotou pee on it had made him want to pee on it too, it was his territory too, dammit) and burn off some of his excess energy before settling back in for the rest of the night with Gotou.

Running was a great freedom, like this. He'd never moved so well or so smoothly, and without trying to pace Gotou he was free to run as he liked, with no one to laugh at him when he tripped and slid down an embankment, nearly soaking himself in a creek. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, hunting for the old rock, the frigid night air making his every breath steam.

The forecast had been calling for snow for days. It was almost halfway through December, and it was deeply unusual for the area to have been without. Gotou had blamed it on Masayoshi as he sat against Gotou's desk in the police box, arms folded and waiting for Gotou to stop dithering on paperwork so they could go have dinner. I don't control the weather, Gotou-san! Why would you blame that on me? He hadn't missed Gotou's barely concealed smile, and knew he was being teased. Never stopped him from falling for it.

The clouds though were clearly thinning, because by the time he got to the break in the trees along the mountain-side's slope he could see the reflection of the moon behind the clouds, large and luminous. It seemed colder, now, and Masayoshi huffed a moment, turning his attention from the sky to his (their) rock.

He stopped in the tree line, breathing heavily, ears forward. There was someone on his rock.

That was deeply unexpected. It was the middle of the night, in winter – and someone no older than a boy was crouched atop the taller of the two rocks in bare feet. Masayoshi flicked his ears and huffed, but didn't move from the treeline right away. Something didn't feel right.

The boy shifted a little, tapping the long stick he carried against his shoulder. He was looking out, down along the slope of the hill toward the town – then he glanced up at the moon and made a derisive noise. Masayoshi ducked his head and moved out from the tree line, trying to keep his shoulders and body low, stalking like Gotou had shown him.

"Figures," the boy said. He glanced over to Masayoshi and Masayoshi froze, one paw in the air. "It's always wolves, out here. I'm not a meal, shoo." He gestured his stick at Masayoshi, intending to swat him away. Masayoshi dropped his paw to the ground and didn't move, staring at the boy.

Barefoot out in this cold weather. Masayoshi shook his head, which lead to a shake down his back and all the way to his tail. This kid was clearly in need of his help. He walked around the other side of the rock outcropping and stopped, still staring at him. He was wearing an old, ratty blue hooded sweatshirt and tattered pants ... clearly, he'd been outside for some time. The boy watched Masayoshi silently as he walked around the rock and then stopped before it, ears cocked forward and sitting down in the dirt. "This is new," the kid said, as if there was anyone else out to hear them.

Masayoshi couldn't speak at all like this, not in a manner that normal people could understand, so he would just have to act his best like a friendly, overly large, dog. This wasn't too hard. He wagged his tail.

"Huh." The boy stood up and then stepped off the rock as if it wasn't a good eight feet in the air, landing so lightly on his feet that Masayoshi didn't even hear it. He stood up, wary now, as the boy walked around him, stick still resting on his shoulder. "You're not like other wolves, are you?"

That's an understatement. Masayoshi leaned in when the boy tentatively set his hand on Masayoshi's head. His hand was startlingly cool to the touch, fingers scratching through the fur atop his head, between his ears. He didn't smell right, either – people had this rosy scent to them, a warmth that this boy lacked. He smelled like the night, cool crisp winter air, the first faint traces of snow. Masayoshi wasn't afraid of him, though, it was impossible to be afraid of someone who gave such good ear scritches.

The boy laughed a little, and pet his hand over Masayoshi's head. "Most animals are afraid of me, if they even acknowledge me," he said a little sadly, before standing and patting Masayoshi's head again. He looked up at the sky and Masayoshi followed suit, seeing the fat full edge of the moon peeking behind the clouds, before it was obscured again, the clouds thickening in the sky. "It's almost time," he said, and gestured his stick in the air.

A flurry of snowflakes appeared in the air, in a trail behind the stick. Masayoshi's tail started wagging again despite himself, and the boy stopped and looked at him, then gestured to the sky above. As Masayoshi watched, the snow started, slow and lazy, thick fat flakes drifting from the clouds. He jumped to his feet, walked around the boy and stared, then looked back to him.

"Our secret," the winter spirit said with a smile, a finger to his lips.

#

Gotou woke before the moon set, even colder than he'd been when Masayoshi had decided to get up for a run. He stretched out slowly and yawned after rising to his feet, peering out the door.

A fresh carpet of white snow graced the landscape beyond his home, and a steady shower of snow kept coming. Masayoshi was out in the yard – at least, Gotou assumed it was Masayoshi, because he was covered in white, rolling in the snow. Masayoshi sprang to his feet, sensing Gotou's presence, and Gotou barely had two paws off the porch before he was body-checked by a flying bundle of golden, snow-covered fur.

The two wolves rolled about in the snow, jaws snapping as they tussled, and Jack Frost sat in a tree and watched them play, a smile on his face.