Sleepover with the wolf

“Here we are,” the truck’s rumbling silenced quickly as Dean turned the key. “Home sweet home, baby.” He kicked the green door open and revealed in the chilly breeze that blew through the car. Travis followed his action, though he opened the door more calmly. 

Travis admired the scenery. The farmhouse boasted a few trees that sprouted orange leaves like fire. Past the aging shed the truck was parked in front of was a small red hutch that housed a white rabbit, its eyes closed peacefully. That peace, however, only lasted until two dogs came running to the car yipping with glee. A teddy bear faced corgi that seemed to have the mane of a lion and a spry blue heeler with legs that seemed to lean to carry her round body so quickly. 

“Your dogs are cute,” Travis spoke carefully. The idea of spending time at someone else’s house felt alien to him. The last time he spent the afternoon at a friend’s house was when Larry invited him over to play video games, sometime in 6th grade. His memories of those days that they spent together were pleasant, even if they were hazy.

Dean nodded at the statement “Yeah, they are. That one’s Rosie,” he squished the corgi’s fluffy face. “You’re just so evil aren’t you? Just rotten to the core!” he smiled as Rosie made small jumps to lick at the brown muzzle that obscured the bottom half of his face. Travis leaned down to pet the other dog, who dropped her ears in response. 

“What about this one?’

“That’s Cheyanne. She’s nervous about everything.” he patted Cheyanne on the back. “Little sausage.”

Travis smiled at the comments; she did seem to make a nervous expression when pet. She licked her lips and wagged her tail but accepted the show of affection nevertheless.

Despite Travis’s own lack of experience with friendly hangouts, he was further confused about how the two of them became friends in the first place. They first began to talk after Dean would constantly take the seat next to Travis during lunch; it was always empty anyway. Dean had somewhat of a reputation for never speaking during school too. It didn't matter how many projects required a partner or how many people were sat at his same table group, if he didn’t wanna talk to you he didn’t talk to you. Maybe it made Travis feel special. All things considered, Travis should be the last person he would try to make friends with. He was a bully, a diehard catholic. Hell, church was about all he had to talk about. 

Despite all this, they became friends. They found one another funny, or interesting at the very least. Unlike most conversations Travis had with other kids, Dean wasn’t quick to brush off or mock his religious tangents. That’s not to say he was particularly interested in church, but at the very least he would let Travis talk.

“Want something to drink?” he started towards the garage door with Travis at his heels. “I’ve got drinks in my room.”

“Yeah, whatcha got?”

The dogs weaved between their feet when the door cracked open and bolted into the house.

“Mr. Pepper, Mountain Rain, some… Crash I think? Mostly grape and strawberry”

Travis nodded. “I like strawberry Crash.”

Dean kicked his shoes off and tossed his bag to the floor of the foyer; Travis followed suit. The lack of kitchen lights gave evidence that the house was devoid of any other people. Dean started through the kitchen, towards a hallway with a small pantry just to the side of a heavy wooden door. 

Curious, he tilted his head. “Are we going to your room?”

Dean perked up from the door handle upon hearing the question. “Hm? Oh. my room is in the basement.”. Travis opened his mouth to interrogate him further but he was cut off before he could. “I was a hardcore problem child,” he turned and pointed to his muzzle with a grin “same reason I gotta wear this.”. He chuckled as he descended the stairs. 

He turned back to Travis as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, Travs.” Travis gave him a curious look. “Place is soundproofed too. Go as crazy as you want.” he gave a wide smile with his tongue hanging out of his mouth before throwing his head back and unleashing a long, wolflike howl. The howl trailed off into a sharp-toothed grin. When he finished he gestured Travis off the steps and into the room before wandering to the small fridge tucked next to a nest of pillows and blankets. 

Travis stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. The basement reminded him of Larry’s room; clothes were piled next to a dresser, a small TV was sat up next to a shelf that stored an extensive collection of movies. It was a comforting mess, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to set down and be comfortable. 

“Here.” Dean handed off a bottle of strawberry Crash to Travis. “Wanna watch something?” he retreated to the shelf of movies. All genres were mixed together and organized in alphabetical order.

“Alright,” Travis said.

“What do ya wanna watch? I got Texas Chainsaw Manicure, Evil Bread, uhh, Morally Grey Bong?” Travis shook his head at the titles.

“I can’t watch scary movies at my house.”

Dean shrugged. “I have a few romcoms? I’ve got Starboard, 500 First Dates, or uh…” he spotted a movie and excitedly pulled it out. “Hey! Crank Up The Volume, I love this movie!” he turned to Travis to seek his approval on the choice of movie. 

“...What’s it about?”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “Well, it’s not exactly a romcom, but it’s about this guy that secretly runs a radio show that people love but it starts getting him in trouble and stuff and he tries to keep hiding his secret identity. It’s so good, dude. Doesn’t have any blood in it or anything” 

“Alright.” 

Dean nodded and moved to pop the movie on the TV. He stood as the opening of the movie lit up on the screen. After stretching and cracking open a Mr. Pepper, he turned back to Travis, who still stood by the nest of pillows like a deer in headlights. 

“You can lay down, dude, I won’t bite.” he gestured to the nest with his pop can. “You want some snacks?” Travis followed his instructions and sat in the middle of some collection of pillows.

“What snacks do you have?”

“Some chips and stuff. I can make you a sandwich if you want. We don’t have any bologna but there’s probably turkey or something,” Travis quickly accepted the offer and sat back as Dean disappeared up the stairs. The pillows were comforting against his aching back. Examining the nest closer, there seemed to be stuffed animals strewn about the sea of blankets. A red Craftmine sheep, multiple PocketMonsters, and even more Garfcliff toys. It felt oddly childish, especially for someone that could seem so off putting. It was comforting, though. The animals' soft textures and happy faces reminded Travis of the stuffed animals that he used to cherish as a child. These little toys made him almost feel like a kid again, able to relax, never fearing that he may spark some sudden chaos. 

Just as he managed to settle in with the stuffed animals, Dean came back down the stairs and set the turkey sandwich on his lap. Dean took a spot just a few inches from him and turned his eyes to the movie screen. After only a few minutes of the movie, Dean was nestled into the blankets and his heavy eyes shut. Travis chewed away at his sandwich. He glanced over to his companion; it was a mystery how he was so relaxed. He felt like an intruder in the house, yet Dean seemed so unbothered by his presence. It was an odd sensation.

The movie had ended at least a half hour ago when Dean woke up. Travis had distracted himself with some of the PocketMonster plushies. Two of the stuffed animals seemed to be having an intense, silent conversation.

Dean sat up and grumbled. “Movie over?”

Travis quickly tossed the toys from their conversation and nodded.

“What do you wanna do now?”. Travis thought for a second. 

“Another movie?’

Dean took the remote and flipped through a few channels on the TV.

“Hey, North Park is on.”

“I’ve never seen that,” Travis responded

“It’s pretty good. It’s really stupid but I like it.” Dean flipped on the cartoon. Travis fixed his eyes to the screen, unsure of what to expect. After a minute or so one of the characters spit out a joke about the other being gay to which Dean laughed. Travis felt a surge of calm in his chest and laughed along with him.

“I like this show.”

“Yeah, you can come watch with me anytime you want,” Dean said with a grin. Their eyes stayed glued to the TV as the sun sank lower and the room grew darker. The TV seemed to become a blinding light in the darkening room. The two boys laughed at the events on screen. Sometimes they’d laugh so hard they fell against each other’s side. Unfortunately, the episodes came to an end soon and some other shows took their place. Just as the TV flicked off, Dean’s mom called for the boys to come get their dinner. The two pulled themselves from the comfort of the basement and went up the stairs to the welcoming smell of dinner. 

The rich smell of salmon wafted from the stove. On the counter next to the pot was a bowl of green beans and another with boiled potatoes. Dean eagerly grabbed a plate and started loading it with as much food as he could. Travis hung behind him and hesitantly grabbed a plate. 

“Travis, it’s so good to meet you!” Travis turned his head up and the perky voice. He made eye contact with Dean’s mother and straightened up to give a respectful nod.

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am,”

She smiled as they took a spot at the counter just across from her.

“So, how was school?” she leaned forward and smiled.

“It was good.” Travis said

“Lame.” dean answered

His mom chortled at the statement. “What about it was lame?”

“All of it ‘cause school is for nerds,”

They both laughed at this statement and Travis joined in. As if this house wasn’t unfamiliar enough, the way they interacted with each other was like a sitcom compared to Travis’s home life. It was so casual. They laughed. They joked. They didn’t even have a title to address one another; he was so used to calling his dad Father. 

“How about you, Travis, how was your day?” The question pulled Travis from his mind to the real world. 

“Oh. It was pretty good.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” her smile was warm, inviting, the way any parent should be to their children. It reminded Travis of his own mother. With her golden smile like the gates of Heaven, her arms as soft as the feathers of a bird’s wing, she was his comfort. The reminder of her tender soul stung but it made him smile. It was safe here.

Although Travis still ate faster than usual, he was still slower to finish his meal than Dean. The boys' plates were picked clean within a matter of minutes and Dean was already headed towards the basement with only a small glance back for Travis.

“Dude, are you coming?”

“Yeah, wait for me.”

Travis followed Dean as he disappeared down the stairwell into the basement that had grown noticeably darker since they left for dinner. Dean had already taken to sorting through his movie collection and popped one into the TV. 

“Want some popcorn?”

Travis nodded. “What’re we watchin’?”

“London Werewolf in America,” he answered simply before slipping back upstairs. In a few moments, he returned with an opened bag of popcorn. The warm steam wafted about the room with that heavenly smell. 

The two refound their positions and stretched out as the screen lit up with an open landscape. It wasn’t long before the movie was the only thing to fill the silence of the basement. The pair lay in their respective nests and closed their eyes for the night. The Tv fell silent and left only the light of its blank screen flickering shadows across the walls. 

The blissfulness of the night was disturbed by a small groan. It grew into a crescendo accompanied by animalistic growling and clawing. Travis, ever the light sleeper, rose from his comfort to see the source of the noise. To his horror, his friend convulsed in his place; hair, no, fur ripped through his skin. His muscles seemed too big for his skin to hold as if his bloody insides would burst through his flesh and spill at any second. The groaning transformed into a weak howl of a pained animal. Next to his deformed, oversized palms lay his muzzle. It lay useless, unable to contain the growing snout that had sprouted from his face, filled to the brim with gnashing teeth. Those eyes, those piercing yellow eyes of this beast turned on Travis. Through them, some understanding shone.

“Meat,” he waved his furry clawed hand at a freezer on the other side of the basement. “Hungry.” his voice grumbled.

Travis obliged, perhaps trying to appease the danger. When he flung the top open he saw the raw, packaged meat piled up. The wolf’s pointed ears perked at the bloody scent. He tossed a wrapped steak to the feet of the beast that was his friend, was it still him?

Excitedly, he snatched it up with his claws and ripped through the package and those massive teeth ripped into the fresh food. Travis’s legs trembled. He sank to the floor. His stomach churned a violent storm. The ripping of meat was sickening and only made worse by the blood dripping from its fangs. 

The steak was gone soon. By the end of its feast, it had changed entirely from man to beast with nothing of familiarity left. When the wolf turned his eyes up to Travis, a strange dream-like memory flooded back to him. Some brown puppy, brown as this creature’s pelt, had bitten him on the hand when he tried to move toward it. He absentmindedly touched the faded scar that marked his right hand. 

The wolf stood on all fours, on just four paws the wolf could easily lock eyes with the lanky boy. Its body, though monstrous, retained just enough human-esque structure that it suggested an ability to stand on its hind legs. The monster took slow, methodical steps towards Travis, the boy’s heart raced with a fresh wave of adrenaline. Seeming to sense this, the beast lowered itself, its tail was lowered so it swept the floor, and it let out a small whine, although it did little to soothe Travis’s fears. All he could do was press himself against the freezer as the wolf wandered closer. Finally, it got close enough to press its cold nose against his skin, it sniffed his neck and cheek and gave him a small lick. 

Travis wiped the slimey kiss from his cheek.

“What are you.” he mumbled, the words weren’t much of a question as a statement. The wolf investigated him further, sniffing, small licks, and a lot of pushing with its snout. Its hackles lowered after a few minutes and it stood to attention, took the neckline of Travis’s sweater in its jaws and pulled him back towards the bedding. 

It urged him to lay in the blankets. Although he resisted at first, with a small push his common sense kicked in and he submitted to the beast. The wolfman loomed over him, rippling with strength far beyond his own; it would take a lot of balls (and not a lot of brains) to try to fight it. 

The beast curled its massive body securely around him almost like a cat curling up around a kitten to keep it safe. The wolf licked the hair just behind his ears, the warm tickle made Travis shiver. He had never been something so warm and so soft all curled around him. It almost felt like his sweater with how soft it was. He loved the purple sweater and how it draped around his hollow frame. He loved this. He loved to feel comforted. He loved having a friend again.