What We Are

Chapter 2: Normal

Claude trudged into his apartment with a slight migraine and a growling stomach. Today had been grueling with four long classes back-to-back.

His exhausted brain had been tempted to just order take-out from that new Chinese restaurant in the city, but doing something he genuinely enjoyed could help clear his mind from a day of non-stop lectures.

Claudius Fletcher Fernsby, future Head Vampire of New Oasis state's biggest vampire Clan and heir to the Fernsby family business, adored cooking.

He settled on making stew, because it was hard to mess up stew. Plus he'd have something to do with the boneless chicken breasts which have been defrosting in his refrigerator. Taking a deep breath, he began to work efficiently, cutting up the chicken and dicing carrots. He'd been immersed in the familiar rhythm of preparing ingredients when the ringtone of his cellphone went off.

"She's going to be the death of me," Gerry spoke as soon as Claude accepted his call.

"I'm assuming we're talking about your sister?"

"Yes, we're talking about my sister. That sneaky little s**t will actually kill me one of these days, and our parents won't even consider the possibility of their Geslaine being a murderer because she's the perfect angel in their eyes."

Claude put Gerry on speaker, needing both hands to continue getting his ingredients ready but too curious not to continue the conversation. "What did miss goody-two-shoes do now?"

"What didn't she do?" Gerry made an indignant sound. "She told my parents she's going to study at a friend's house, then what do you know, three hours later I get a call from her classmate saying I need to come pick up Geslaine because the i***t decided to drink herself stupid."

Claude finished with the carrots and has now moved onto peeling potatoes. He checked the time. "It's only seven. Did this happen today?"

"Yep," Gerry answered, popping the p. "I took us to McDonald's. It smells like a heart attack in here, but this kid needs to sober up before we head back, otherwise we risk raising mom's blood pressure."

There's some shuffling followed by a grumbling, distant voice in the background. "M'not a kid, I'm eighteen. I'm practically a legal adult."

"Did you hear that, Claude? She says she's an adult." Gerry scoffed outright, speaking to Geslaine then, "Adults don't sneak out from their parents' house to drink cheap-ass wine at a friend's shitty party. You could barely stand when I came to get you."

Claude grinned. "Tell Geslaine I said hello."

"Claude says hi." There was some more background noise. "Hey, uh-uh. You're not allowed to take my fries. You officially have your fry-taking privileges revoked until you stop going around drunkenly kissing strangers."

"They're not strangers," Claude faintly heard Geslaine reply. He couldn't help the puff of laughter that came from his mouth at that and the expression that probably overtook Gerry's face. Claude could imagine the way Gerry's forehead would pinch together, frown deep-set in his face.

He let the two siblings bicker some more, finishing with his other ingredients and turning on the stove, scraping some butter into a pot and letting it melt.

Gerry let out a long sigh. "Claude, you see what I have to deal with? She turned eighteen two months ago and now she thinks she can go around making-out with strange people who look like they sell drugs."

The vegetables went into the pot. Claude put on the lid to help speed up the heating process. "You weren't any better when you turned eighteen, Gerry. Remember that time you snuck into a frat party?"

Gerry groaned. "This isn't what I called you for. You're supposed to say that Geslaine needs to stop with this nonsense because she's a Fernsby, and a lot of people want to see her get hurt."

"Geslaine needs to stop with this nonsense because she's a Fernsby, and a lot of people want to see her get hurt," Claude dutifully repeated. "Also, you're a big hypocrite."

That got him an annoyed huff. "City life is changing you. You're much more of an asshole now."

"I've been living in the city for nearly four years, that would make sense."

"Your semester just started, right? You could finish and get your bachelor's degree online. Come home to your family, Claude. That way you can help me keep Geslaine in line and I won't have to deal with both our parents by myself."

Claude lifted the pot's lid, stirred the vegetables with a wooden spoon, then added garlic. "I had to deal with them by myself while you were away at college," Claude reminded his cousin. "I was much younger at the time. I'm sure you'll survive a few more months."

"You should have been there for the draping drama our mothers had last week. Two hours of my life wasted because neither of our them could settle on a color which best matched the furniture."

"Mother likes emerald green."

"Exactlty, and my mother is tired of it."

The doorbell rang. Claude took his phone and turned off speaker mode. At the door, he already knew who was outside before even peeking out the peephole.

"You have company?" Gerry evidently heard the doorbell through the phone.

"Yes, which means I'll have to say goodbye now." The familiar form outside was making faces at the peephole, aware that Claude was looking. Claude shook his head at the other's antics, grinning widely.

"Fine, we need to be heading back anyway." There's movement from the other line, chairs scraping Gerry and Geslaine stood. "We'll see you this weekend?"

Claude hummed, leaning away from the door. "Saturday, bright and early." The cousins bid each other goodbye, Claude reminding them to keep safe before he hung up. He pocketed his phone and twisted the doorknob at the same time.

Dean Axel stood in Claude's apartment stoop clad in jeans that hugged his defined legs and a muscle tee that revealed his toned biceps.

Claude blinked at him. "It's not yet eight."

The werewolf shrugged one shoulder. "Meeting with the Village Elders finished early." Dean tilted his head up, nose sniffing the air. "Something smells good."

Claude let Dean step inside, closing the door as the alpha headed straight into the kitchen area of his medium-sized apartment. Dean leaned over to see the contents of the pot, looking back as Claude came closer to him. "Please tell me you're going to add meat in this."

Claude rolled his eyes, nudging Dean away from the stove with his elbow. "You're like a child who whines about having to eat their vegetables."

The werewolf in his apartment leaned back on the kitchen island, arms crossing over his chest. It made more of his muscles come to life. "I do eat vegetables." Dean grinned at Claude's back. "I just can't survive without meat."

"You're getting chicken tonight." Claude placed the raw chicken into the pot before carefully pouring the broth, tossing in a few herbs plus salt and pepper to finish. All the while Dean remained content to watch him silently instead of waiting in the living room.

Claude wiped his hands on his apron following a quick rinse under the sink. He faced Dean, who currently stood about the same height as Claude given that the werewolf was still leaning back. Upright, Dean had a few inches on Claude's five-foot-eleven form. "Meetings with the Village Elders usually mean that you arrive thirty minutes after our agreed upon time. What happened tonight?"

"I went to a market and picked up two big bottles of lambanog. It's this alcohol made from coconut." Dean nodded at Claude's awed expression. "Yes, coconut. Who knew, right? Anyway, potent stuff. Feels like a mini punch every time you take a sip. I took one bottle to the meeting today. Fraser and Helen were pretty much asleep after two cups, so I suggested that we all take an early leave and now, here I am."

"You look sober to me," Claude observed. There was only the slightest hint of a flush sitting on Dean's cheekbones, but other than that he seemed completely normal. "There's no way your plan will work next time. The Village Elders will probably implement a no liquor during meetings rule after tonight."

"That's likely, yeah." Dean pushed off the kitchen island to where Claude was standing, stopping with barely two feet of space. The only reason why Claude's breath didn't hitch or move backward was because years of Dean coming over to his apartment meant that this sudden proximity was not out of the ordinary.

Claude could smell the faint forest scent that clung to Dean's body, covered by the cologne he always used. This close, their height difference meant that Claude's forehead was directly in line with Dean's lips.

Dean was glancing at the shelf above Claude's head, left arm reaching out to grab something. He brought his arm down with a kitchen timer on hand. "Twenty minutes should be alright?"

"Fifteen," Claude corrected.

Dean nodded absentmindedly, setting the timer for the stew while asking as nonchalantly as he could, "When's the last time you fed?"

Claude was immediately reminded again of the barely there space between them. He could hear Dean's pulse.

He wouldn't ever feed on Dean no matter how close they got, because Vampires had more control than that—Claude had more control than that, thank you very much. He didn't do it when he was an eleven year-old vampire who barely knew the word restraint in the face of an injured, bleeding werewolf, and he most certainly wouldn't do it now.

Despite this—despite Dean knowing this—Claude didn't pass up the chance to joke, "You shouldn't be standing so close. I might need to feed."

As expected, Dean only rolled his eyes, setting the timer down on the kitchen counter next to Claude. "Today's Tuesday. When's the last time you fed?" He wasn't letting it go until he was certain Claude wasn't depraving himself. It would have been sweet, if Claude didn't find the overprotectiveness a tad bit annoying.

There were some stereotypes alphas just couldn't avoid, Claude presumed. 

Claude turned for the living room without taking off his apron and without answering, Dean following him. The living room and the dining area were in one open space, the kitchen and the guest bathroom the only rooms on the first floor separated by walls. Claude dropped onto his sectional sofa, the red and white quilt he used while watching a documentary last night haphazardly strewn across the cushions. Dean bundled the quilt and pushed it to a corner, taking a seat next to Claude and immediately setting his feet up on the coffee table.

"I went to the City Forest last Sunday," Claude relented after feeling Dean's expectant gaze.

The City Forest was exactly what it sounded like—a man-made forest located near the edge of New Oasis City. It had been built decades ago for the convenience of both werewolves and vampires alike, those who wanted the experience of hunting while still staying within city. There were a lot of prey to choose from, but you're only allowed an hour inside at most.

"I really don't like the thought of you going there." It felt like Dean uttered those words for the hundredth time since Claude had mentioned the place. "I'm glad the city's making sure us creatures have a place to let loose, but come on. You're putting yourself in a one-point-something hectare cage with hungry werewolves and vampires."

"There hasn't been any issues with that since five years ago," Claude reminded Dean. "I told you, everybody respects the city as neutral ground. Plus, they've installed even more cameras now so they know the truth in case something does happen."

Dean began to consider, but ultimately shook his head in disdain. "I wish you could come to Red Village," He told Claude, again, for the nth time. This whole conversation wasn't new to them. "You'd enjoy hunting in a larger, natural forest more. Plus, the Lycan River's always nice and cool this summer."

Claude made himself comfortable, head tilting back on the sofa. "I've been to other forests before. I'm not depraved just because I live in the city, Dean. There are plenty of public forests near Tempest Grounds."

"Still. I wish you could have the chance to visit."

They're both quiet for a few seconds.

"How's university?" Dean asked.

Claude huffed out a short laughter that contained more exhaustion than humor. "Five-page report for my Business Research class." He raised one hand in the space between them. "I pushed myself to finish typing all the pages while I was still in the library. Now, my wrists are paying the price."

Wordlessly, Dean encircled his fingers around Claude's extended hand, his rough thumbs gliding across the mentioned aching wrist.

It would've been shocking for anyone else, but this was Dean, and Dean's always been more touchy-feely than Claude.

"I don't regret not choosing to go back to college."

Claude sighed, partly in relief at Dean's massaging and partly because of something else. "I was never given the option to choose."

"Your professors any good?"

"They should be, they're hired by the most expensive university in the state." Just thinking about the price of their tuition fees had Claude shaking his head.

Dean stopped his movements. "Aren't you on a full scholarship?"

Claude shrugged. "Doesn't change what I said."

"Finn went to college." Dean continued to massage the delicate skin of Claude's wrist with calloused fingers. "He's damn smart and was on scholarship like you. He got a degree in mechanical engineering, now he's always fixing something in the village—cars, trucks, televisions, you name it. He's usually consulting whenever something's being built."

"Makes sense that he's your second-in-command," Claude replied, having never met Finn Ledger but knowing a lot about the beta from all the stories Dean has told him. "Is Iman still trying to get Finn to notice him?"

Dean laughed, placing Claude's arm down and reaching for the other. The position was a bit awkward, but he kept his eyes closed as Dean pressed down on his other wrist. "Oh, Finn notices Iman alright. Iman's smitten, he even asked me for advice. Finn remains unbothered. Everything's normal."

Minutes passed in silence while Dean didn't stop running his thumbs over Claude's wrist. Claude could have fallen asleep like that, but the timer went off in the kitchen, reminding him of his empty stomach.

They took a bowl each and settled back on the couch to watch a television show they're currently obsessed with called What You Missed from the Miar's, a British reality show about a rich family and their daily struggles as members of the elite (which Dean always scoffed at but now he's just as hooked as Claude). They're on season five out of ten, and the family's going through a lot because the mother, Milly, was pregnant with her third child.

The stew is flavorful, the soup helped warm up Claude's body and had him relaxing into his seat. He took small bites of chicken and potato, meanwhile Dean scarfed the food down, focusing intensely on the episode about the Miar's deciding if they should cancel their annual trip to Hawaii. It was silly because Milly's not even on her third trimester so she was more than okay to board a plane. It was her husband, Graham Miar, who was being extra cautious.

Claude's about halfway through his bowl of stew when the eldest son, Andy Miar, suggested they take their private jet to Hawaii.

Dean turned to look at Claude. "Does your family own a private jet?"

Claude was tempted to throw a piece of chicken at him.

In all honesty, they should despise the show. Sometimes the Miar's will face problems so mundane that Claude and Dean would share a look of disbelief while on screen at least one member of the family reacted as if it was the end of the world. They should hate how utterly outrageous the show was and how detached the Miar's appeared to be from the real world—but that's probably also the main reason they continued watching.

Dean placed his empty dish on the coffee table and leaned back on the top cushions. "You ever wondered what it's like to just be normal?" The werewolf gestured in the space in front of him. "Normal, as in, to exist without our responsibilities?"

"We wouldn't have met," Claude pointed out softly, silently chewing on a carrot.

Dean tilted his head, exposing more of his neck to Claude. "Possibly. But, you know, what if?" He pressed.

Claude allowed a tiny smile. He honestly couldn't imagine Dean as anything but a werewolf who enjoyed the feeling and the smell of the earth in his wolf form, leading a Pack just as confident and strong as he was. Claude didn't say this out loud, instead he replied, "I'm afraid I can't entertain such notions. I'm going to be with my family this weekend, and they might smell the blood betrayal."

Dean didn't react to the joke, only responding to the first half of Claude's sentence. "Why are you going to Tempest Grounds?"

"It's my mother's fiftieth birthday on Saturday." Claude sipped water before continuing, feeling Dean's eyes on him. "There's going to be a grand party and all that. Father's already called multiple times to remind me that I should have my schedule free for the whole weekend."

Claude felt Dean scoot closer towards him, left arm draping across the length of the sofa and settling behind Claude's head. This, too, was normal. "Tell her happy birthday from me."

They both snorted.

"I'll be sure to do that on the actual celebration, in front of all the traditionalist vampires who will attend. You might just receive my decapitated head as a thank you." It was an exaggeration about the running joke between them—saying things like tell them I said hello, or I'll be sure to come with you the next time.

Dean and Claude weren't supposed to be friends.

They weren't even supposed to be alone in the same room together.

Dean was Head Alpha of the Axel Pack, and Claude was future Head Vampire of the Gratia Clan. Many of the members from their respective groups have a not-so-secret wariness-s***h-hatred for each other, borne from years of open hostility due to prejudice from both sides.

If anybody found out that Dean Axel and Claudius Fletcher Fernsby were pressed together on the same couch, sharing stew and watching television...

Claude tried not to think too hard about the consequences.

He finished up the rest of his dinner and brought his attention back to the show. The Miar's have decided to continue their vacation to Hawaii, and Claude could finally focus on the warmth radiating from Dean's body.

Once the clock displayed 10:29, Dean got up to leave. He's never stayed the night in Claude's apartment. The Head Alpha sleeping somewhere else other than in the village would cause too much suspicion.

Claude didn't need to walk him out, but he did anyway, both of them stopping at Claude's front door. "Will I see you again before I go this Saturday?"

Dean was typing on his phone, responding to a message. "Probably not. There's a full moon on Saturday, the young wolves are excited." He looked up to meet Claude's stare, his dark hair bouncing with the movement. "But text me?"

"Sure." Claude nodded. "Take care, alpha."

Dean gave a mock salute. "You too, vampire."