justlurkinghere | Creepy Old Abandoned Mansion on Phoenix Way, Friday Night

Nothing said 'bonding activity' quite like breaking out the chains and restraints. Not true? Really, guys? They're werewolves, some weird stuff was only to be expected.

Just be glad no one broke out the torture implements.

Derek	"It will be soon," Derek informed him, checking on the strength of the chains. Not that he was aware of how strong Jack would be when changed, but it made him feel better about the whole thing.
Jack	"I feel it," Jack answered. He'd been pacing almost since they walked into the mansion, and now he drew a deep breath, felt the tug of the rising moon at his ribcage. "I feel it. If I try to hurt you, run." He trusted Derek -- as much as he could, anyhow. He didn't trust himself.
Derek	"I'll be fine," Derek replied with a shrug. "I'll keep my mind." There was a pause before he had to ask, "How quickly do you heal?" Just in case.
Jack	Oh, that was reassuring. "Fast," Jack told him. "And Ronan in my house is a healer. If there's trouble, get him." He paced another few steps, walked over to the chains. "Are those silver?"
Derek	Derek just shot him a look. "No, steel. If we can keep you calm enough, it will hold." Or Derek will end up needing to buy new shirts.
Jack	Jack snorted in a way to signify he doubted it. "I'm calm," he said. "I'll do the fancy breathing. Find my happy place in my head. Maybe half a bottle of opium would help." He ... was not calm at all. His hands were fisted so tight the nails dug into his palms.
Derek	Oh yeah, Derek could feel the zen just oozing out of him. He sighed, finding his own focus for the moment. Jack wasn't the only one feeling the pull of the moon after all. "Just--just focus on something. Something that you won't let go of no matter what happens."
Jack	"Focus on something," Jack repeated, and rolled his neck. "Sebastien." Not Emma. Emma was not guaranteed to be a peaceful thought; he also didn't want the wolf to take it into his head to find her. And a thing wouldn't do as the focus; possessions had never met as much to Jack as people did. But Sebastien ... Jack was angry at him, but he was still Jack's north star in so many ways. "If I concentrate on him," he said, "I might remember who I am. Is that how you mean?"
Derek	"That's the theory," he replied. "It's called an anchor." Just be glad you didn't pick a girl and turn into a complete potato over her. Seriously, both the password and username, Scott? Seriously?
Jack	"Anchor." Apparently what Jack could do tonight was nod and repeat words. He made for a fascinating conversationalist. He blinked several times to try to clear some of the red out of his head, went over to a space in the wall where the window used to be and peered at the darkening sky. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said, "but I should take my shirt and pants off before I ruin them."
Derek	Derek rolled his eyes. "You're not my type," he said dryly. But he turned his back to grant Jack that bit of privacy at least. It wasn't as though he could get very far should the urge to run and murder something take him in those few minutes.
Jack	Jack snorted. "It's mutual." He was grateful for the feint at privacy, even though it wouldn't be long before it meant nothing at all. He stripped down to his boxer shorts, draped his shoulders in a blanket he'd brought with him. "I'm ready," he said, but sounded doubtful. He didn't think he had very much time.
Derek	"Try not to rip my throat out." Derek, don't make jokes. You're bad at them. He rolled his shoulders as though to work a kink out, turning to put the restraints on Jack's wrists. As long as one of them held, he could keep Jack in the house with minimal effort.
Jack	"I don't think your throat would taste that good." Jack wasn't much better at jokes just then. He closed his eyes and tensed his arm muscles, let Derek apply the restraints. He felt the ripple that always went through his muscles when a change was imminent. "Hurry."
Derek	Derek let his eyes change slightly, fangs distending in a warning to the more primal nature in Jack at the moment. "Stay still." But he was, of course, hurrying up. One wrist secured at the very least.
Jack	Jack growled back involuntarily, low in his throat. And then -- as if recognizing a superior animal -- he went limp, let Derek do what he was going to do while he chanted Sebastien's name inside his head.
Derek	Well, at least there was that. ~~HE WAS TOTALLY THE ALPHA, YOU GUYS. LOOK AT HIS AWESOME ALPHANESS! HE'D TELL EVERYONE!~~ Derek exhaled slowly, letting the urge to shift go with it. As much as he could on a full moon, that is. The second cuff was secured now, at least. "You're going to be fine," he told Jack, not sure if he was lying or being far too optimistic about this.
Jack	"Sure," Jack said, not sounding as if he believed it. And then he bit his lip hard. "Fucking Christ, it's coming." He looked down at his hands, saw the fingertips begin to lengthen into claws as the pain began working its way through his limbs. He roared with the pain, willed himself to focus on Sebastien -- and on how badly he wanted not to hurt Derek -- even as he did.
Derek	Derek sighed again, taking a step back. He might have suddenly had fingernails that could in no way be mistaken for a human's now. Just in case. "Focus." Derek gave the best damn advice. Really.
Jack	Jack said something that would have been a snarled "I'm fucking trying to" if he'd been able to concentrate on English or sentences or coherent thoughts. As it was, he growled again, pulled at the chain with both wrists without realizing it. He wasn't transforming. Not entirely, anyhow; he was still standing easily. But ... he also wasn't not transforming.
Derek	"You're doing good." Kind of. Look, he was being encouraging! Look at him being encouraging. "Just keep it up." And don't wreck his creepy, old, abandoned mansion that he was squatting in. Please?
Jack	Jack didn't try to form an answer in words. He nodded, biting into his lower lip with teeth that were more like fangs. (And the lip and jaw were more like a snout now, and fur was spreading over his limbs, and while the name Sebastien kept rippling through his head it didn't mean much.) A moment later, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Derek with animal energy and vague distaste in his eyes.
Derek	"That... went better than expected," Derek said, letter out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He gave the wolf a look, mouth pulled intoa tight lines he tried to figure out what the hell to do next. At least Jack wasn't being aggressive? "Try to make yourself comfortable. It's going to be a long night."
Jack	Jack snarled -- a bitchy, no-really-I-knew-that kind of snarl -- and settled on the floor. He started worrying at the chains around his paws. They weren't bending or weakening no matter how hard he bit, but the wolf had nothing but time. ... well. Time and hunger. But the chains had to be taken care of before he could hunt.
Derek	Derek gave an answering snarl as he rolled his eyes. Because that was a normal reaction to a chained up wolf in your house. He crossed his arms over his chest, settling in for some impersonating an angry statue times. And keeping an eye on the chains in case they weren't reinforced enough. New werewolves were too unpredictable.
Jack	For a few hours, nothing much happened. The wolf eventually gave up on biting through the chains and settled into a light doze. Jack was bored, petulant, and still hungry, but he recognized Derek as another wolf -- if one with a funny shape -- and would not attack. He had no such scruples about the family of teal deer he eventually scented, though. Jack was up like a shot, hobbled by the chain as he tried to run out of the mansion and toward his prey.
Derek	It was like a murderous dog hearing the mailman outside. Only with more likelihood of bloodshed. Awwww, how cute! "You're not getting out," Derek grumbled, openning his eyes from what totally hadn't been an attempt at napping. Don't be silly. He eyed the chains again, hearing the metal creak and strain at the renewed force. Maybe doubling up would have made it more secure...
Jack	He was! He was going to kill the ~~mailman~~ deer! Jack lunged forward, finally getting one paw clear of the chain in his excitement. The other stayed firmly encircled, but the bolt attaching it to the floor was starting to have some give to it again. He yanked at it again and came free, heading to the window with the chains dragging from one front leg. They slowed, but did not stop him. He gave Derek a vaguely baffled and beseeching look over his shoulder. Didn't he want to play too?
Derek	No. No, he did not. He wanted to brood and be miserable. Possibly in a stylish leather jacket. Derek got up, embolded by the fact that Jack didn't seem to want to kill him at least, and made his way back to Jack. One chain was not going to cut it if he kept up the excited puppy routine. He hold put his hands as though to appease Jack, moving for the loose chain. "Sit. Stay."
Jack	That might have worked if Jack had been an overexcited beagle. As it was, he didn't obey commands. Jack didn't bother to growl at Derek. He just flattened his ears, running past him and toward the door. The fact certain other werewolves were broody and boring was not going to stop him from hunting.
Derek	Oh, for the love of werewolf Jesus! Nothing was going as planned at all! This should surprise absolutely no one! Derek scrambled after him, changing rapidly to keep up with someone on four legs that didn't look ridiculous doing so. Unfair. There might have even been a snarl in there out of frustration. And because it might have been his default look. Derek, you so angry.
Jack	Jack snarled back over his shoulder without stopping, and burst through a rotted spot in the wall. He'd owe Derek for that when he changed back. And now they were running in the woods, and the moon was above them and the late summer wind was blowing through Jack's fur, and -- stupid chain weighing him down or not -- he was simply, stupidly, satisfied with the hunt.
Derek	His house! C'mon, man! Not cool. Not cool at all. Which would be precisely why Derek was diving through the newly made hole to tackle Jack before he got any further from the building. The perks of arms and opposable thumbs, Jack.
Jack	Jack let out a sharp sudden exhalation as he was trapped, then began to writhe under Derek an attempt to slip away. His jaws opened and closed, trying to catch any soft meat that they could. Some dim part of his memory remembered he'd been in the same position before, but that time he hadn't been the wolf.
Derek	Derek snarled again, teeth gnashing at the pain as he kept himself in check. Because accidentally killing his new packmate would not be a good idea. Unless he had to. He dug his claws into the soft flesh of Jack's belly, holding to keep him from getting any further away.
Jack	Jack howled with the pain of it, stretching to try to get away. But every way he could move just made it worse. He went limp and still, hoping it would get the wolf with thumbs to release him.
Derek	The thumbs were totally the best part of all of this, it's true. That and the sweet forehead thing. Seriously, what was up with that? And what happened to his eyebrows? Derek growled again, slowly pulling his hands away from Jack's stomach to grab him by the scruff of his neck. Without anything sharp and pointy at the end of his fingers, though. No need for more injuries if he could help it.
Jack	Jack twisted his neck for a moment to try to bite the hands away before he submitted, ears flattening against his head as he dropped to the ground and let Derek take hold of his fur. It might have been some dim human thought, some echo of a name that let him know he meant to behave. It might have been that he knew he had lost this fight.
Derek	With one last growl, Derek hauled him up to carry back to the house. Because dragging him by the scruff was just mean. And awkward. Yes, more awkward than carrying. Jack, you had better appreciate this. Next time he was just throwing you through a wall and smacking you until you settled down.
Jack	Given Jack was the size of a healthy wolfhound, this was both awkward for him and humiliating. He whimpered softly all the way back to Derek's house.