Who we want to be [Vyn]

[Logan]

( MOST BORING SETTING AND POST EVER, wow I'm good at these)

There are the easy days. Wake up, work, cook dinner, go to bed. Then there are the hard days – the ones where unexpected hurdles pop up to ruin the flow. Logan is pretty sure there is some sort of unknown karma at work, that he has offended The Powers that Be and is reaping the consequences because of it. He sighs and slides further down into the subway car bench, thankful for the rest despite the persistent scent of old machinery and urine in the air.

The day had started innocently enough. Logan dropped Aaden off at Sammy’s house for their sleepover and headed out to complete some errands. Morning passed to noon, noon to evening. His last stop was supposed to be the grocery store. The list was short; eggs, milk, cheerios, and some light bulbs. In the parking lot, he got a call. A friend of a friend of an associate that Logan vaguely recalled stalled out and his car needed a jump. Logan figured it wouldn’t be much of a personal inconvenience to help the guy out. What was supposed to be a quick jump turned into hours of maintenance. Calling a tow truck was out of the question because, as the man put it, the car wasn’t exactly his.

It had started to snow. Logan finally managed to get the car started. The guy, who Logan still can’t remember the name of, gave his thanks and sped down the street. Finally, it was time to go home – except it wasn’t. Logan turned the key and the truck refused to start. Investigation led to the discovery of a dead battery. He looked to his cell phone only to find that its battery, too, was dead. The hunter then decided to hail a taxi but was stopped short when he discovered that his wallet was missing. He knew that guy was lingering too close. Out of options, Logan searched the cabin of his truck for change and headed for the subway.

The time reads one-thirty am but to Logan it feels more like four. Electricity buzzes overhead and the rattle of metal is constant and unending. There are stops. People get on and off. The fog of exhaustion that grips the man’s mind like an over-friendly octopus makes it impossible for Logan to pay attention. He drifts in and out, nodding off, then waking up-- a repeated affair where he tunes in just long enough to see the scene change. It is a game of spot the differences, with only one fixture – the man in the car corner draped in scarves and huddled in a dirty, over-sized trench coat.

Extreme exhaustion sees reality marry paranoia and bleed into the hunter's brief stints of sleep. The man in the corner is a hobo on the precipice of going postal. The man in the corner is a secret agent, and Logan is his target. The man in the corner is a genie ready to grant three wishes. Logan wants a bath, a new truck, and a warm bed. The man in the corner is nothing at all because Logan is hallucinating. The werewolf shakes his head, blinks twice and rubs at his eyes with his palms. Grey eyes flick upwards. The man is still there.

Logan readjusts his knitted cap to cover the tips of his ears, crosses his arms over his chest and resolutely tries to stay awake. The last thing he needs is to miss his stop.

[Ilvyn Daleroth]

^{[OoC: I didn't proofread it so I'm sure there are a lot of repetitive sentences as that is my forte, but Vyn is going for Worst Flirt of the Year so I hope you approve of that much.]}

---

'You can leave Boston when I tell you, but no sooner. You have a job to do. Don't make me regret hiring you because you're a silly boy that needs a safety blanket.'

'Sorry if this is rude, but that was some real mafia-style shit right there, ma'am. I don't appreciate you threatening me.'

Ilvyn was aware freaks existed in this world, beasts crawling under a mask of humanity, for he met them at every corner and in a way he was very much their brethren. What he encountered in Boston was too much, people that could turn into animals, questionable that could see straight through his glamour, and while he would never admit it this made him uneasy. Any prolonged stare could be some freak looking at him through his glamour and the thought caused the boy's skin to prickle with goose bumps. Boston wasn't safe, not for someone like him who was so embarrassingly mortal and easily broken. He just wanted out of Boston but his employer would have none of that.

Threats were commonplace in Ilvyn's chosen occupation. Living in a world where murdering people, or paying for someone to murder people in the case of his patrons, was a precarious thing. People were quick to put too much trust in their chosen assassin and quicker to become scared when the killer didn't behave like a loyal pet. The way this lady had spoken to him, her cool calm voice, was what really unnerved the boy. She was the meticulous type. She wouldn't leave loose ends and certainly she would count Ilvyn as one should they ever fall out of favor with one another.

He was not sure which scared him more, Boston or trying to deal with her.

Needless to say his own day was going poorly and he was staring thoughtfully at the piece-of-shit cellphone he carried, a prepaid dinky thing with little features outside of calling. He went through these phones quickly, always throwing them after a while. His current fascination with the device was a mere defense mechanism, a way to not meet the gazes of other people, to not feed his frightened mind into thinking he walked in a dangerous world of supernaturals that wanted to hurt him. He knew what the phone looked like. They all looked the same. Plain numbers, plain screens, no interesting capabilities that would keep him staring at the thing like he was.

I can't hide. This is pointless.

He glanced up, artificial light burning like hellfire in the backs of his sensitive eyes, and his gaze fixates on a large man clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. Hypocritical fate would have it that Ilvyn can't stop staring at the man, but there is no malicious intent there. It was merely that this was the first man he had seen in Boston that didn't border on the movie star pretty, though he certainly wasn't ugly, this man was built the way men should be, much to the simultaneous desire and envy of the boy staring at him.

One last try?

Ilvyn meandered over to the man and plopped down next to him. Not just sat like a normal person, but nearly leaned on him so he would have no choice but to pay attention to the boy. Despite all the artificial light beating down on them like a hot electric sun, Vyn's pupils grew huge, until there was nothing but a sliver of a red ring in mostly black eyes, and eerie sight for a man who could see through the glamour. Otherwise his expression was soft, interested, eerily human for everything about him that was clearly not human.

"Hey, big guy," There was no mistaking that tone in Vyn's voice. "You shouldn't fall asleep here, someone might try to take your things."

His tail began to curl and form ringlets on the floor. He put his hand on the man's thigh.

"You look cold," Vyn purred. "I know just the thing for that. It's called sex."

[Logan]

Logan stirs when a presence settles beside him. Storm-grey eyes fall to the face of a young man and the hunter has to blink twice. Fatigue must be playing with his vision; Logan swears he sees a blurred outline surrounding the youth, like some sort of aura. He is reminded of when one of those holographic cards are held at an angle. The two images are there, one more pronounced than the other, the second as a ghostly suggestion. It does not occur to the werewolf that he is dealing with someone special. One last hard blink dispels the aura; Ilvyn is left with his glamour intact.

His lips form a question but it meets a fantastic death when the stranger speaks first. ”I..uh.” There are few things in life that can render an old salt like Logan utterly stupefied, and Vyn has apparently discovered one. ”I really have no idea how to respond to that.” At least he is honest. ”But I…appreciate your gumption.” Polite, too, even when faced with trying circumstances.

The werewolf surreptitiously pulls his thigh away and offers a lopsided smile. ”And hell, I just said ‘gumption’, didn’t I? Might as well check myself into a home, before I’m back in diapers.” A smile grows into a grin and Logan’s intent is obvious – he’s old, too old to warrant the interest of a young man with so much gumption. The grin starts to slip and Logan’s nose twitches.

A blade of realization cuts through tiredness, and Logan feels like someone used a defibrillator directly on his brain. ”You’re not exactly human, are you?” The aura is back, more like a shadow now, and Logan swears he can make out the outline of horns. His senses are dulled due to the events of the day, but the nose never lies. ”You one of those…succubus things?” It would explain the straight-to-the-point flirtation. Logan, for his part, does not seem overly concerned. He has the ability to turn into an overgrown dog; that there are other things out there is not a surprise.

A gloved hand disappears into the werewolf’s large coat and pulls out a king-sized Snickers bar. Now that he is awake, bodily sensations such as hunger are sharper and more insistent. He is about to unwrap the candy but pauses and spares Vyn a glance. A small upturn of the lips, and Logan is tearing the candy in half. He hands the larger portion to the boy with gumption. ”I’ve been told by women that chocolate can be better than sex.” He shrugs. ”Worth a shot.”

Seconds pass in which Logan chews and thoughtfully regards the young man. He swallows then says the first thing on his mind-- ” You seem awfully young.” Only after the fact does Logan realize how loaded the statement is. Awfully young to what? To be a succubus-thing, to be hitting on old men, to be riding the subway at such a late hour. In truth, the observation comes with no trailing explanation. Logan means what he said. Vyn seems awfully young.

[Ilvyn Daleroth]

"I can tell you how to respond. Take me back to your place and let's have some steamy gay sex," his lustful voice was accompanied by a suggestive quirk of the brow. His fingers crept towards the man's inner thigh. "Or if that's too fast for you we can always just cuddle naked."

The man pulled away, adorably awkward, and while Ilvyn wasn't overly pleased with the shy reaction he had to admit things were going better than he expected. There were many people with rigid sexual views and many of them would have screamed or punched the boy in the face in response to his advances. The attitude this guy had would never convince the boy to back down, so he didn't. He persisted like The Little Engine That Could.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, I like older men, and you aren't that old anyways," as if Ilvyn's opinion of the man was supposed to make him feel better. "Older men are less fickle and more experienced in bed. I like that."

Ilvyn pulled back when the question of his humanity arose and a cold look crept into his eyes. "You know, I was just thinking that no one in Boston is normal. Are you human? I'm not even sure why I ask, I haven't gotten a straight answer to that one yet," he sighed. " Uh, am I exactly human? I suppose not. It's just…I don't think I am something else. I feel like a human."

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the air in front of his face, "I guess by normal standards you would call me a 'demon', except I'm really not. I'm just different. But I won't hurt you, if that's what you're really asking," Vyn muttered. "I'm not a succubus. Succubus are female anyways." Geez, didn't this guy know that? He shouldn't be slinging around words like that if he didn't even know what they meant.

Ilvyn looked back at the man as he unwrapped the candy bar. The man did not seem off-put, even knowing what he knew. He was still smiling, Vyn suspected out of some awkward need to be amiable no matter what. Some people couldn't be mean and the boy wondered if this man was one of them. It would probably haunt him too much if he just shoved Ilvyn to the floor and yelled at him to get away. The boy wondered if that's what he wanted to do, if that was his secret ulterior motive he could never act on. At the very least, Ilvyn was now regarding him with a look of suspicion. He plucked the offered candy from the strangers hand anyways. Who could say no to candy?

"Maybe that rich imported chocolate. I can't say a Snickers bar quite compares." Vyn commented. "But you know I heard once that if you do a man a favor you start to like him more. If you get what I'm saying."

He munched on the candy in reverent silence (aside from the churn of the wheels and the faint distant scream of electricity) and he was surprised when it was the other man that broke the silence for Ilvyn found himself eerily comforted by it. Perhaps his attention was only on the candy until then, but it was forgotten once he swallowed it and glanced back at the man he was sitting next to with a look of pure bemusement on his face.

"I don't know if I should feel complimented or offended," he admitted. "I guess I am kind of young, but not too young for this."

Not too young to want to be brought home by a strange man as old as his mother, not too young to ride the subway alone, not too young to have to make terrible life decisions that may end in his premature death. He would have felt bitter if he ever understood that these things weren't normal for most people his age, but this was all he had ever known in his short life. This was routine, mundane, and even if it was strange for the pale-eyed older man sitting next to him, it was just a small thing to keep the boy's mind off of the big things.

"What is your name, anyways?"

[Logan]

Logan has been in his fair share of awkward situations – he was a teenager once—but this one is up there. The flush that creeps its way up the werewolf’s neck makes it to his cheeks before Logan pointedly clears his throat. Grey eyes wander the subway car and the hunter is relieved when the change in subject derails Vyn’s actions.

”No, you’re right.” Boston teems with the supernatural. Logan has never seen a hotspot of such magnitude before. If it was not for the protection of the pack, the hunter would leave without a second thought. ”Maybe that’s all that matters. Feeling human.” Vyn’s previous amorous intentions aside, Logan figures a guy that adamant about being normal can’t be all bad.

After all, it’s the wolves that lose sight of their humanity who end up hunted.

Tired eyes take stock of the young man and Logan admits he is confused, if pleasantly so. ”Feeling human…means we’re still human, right?” Chocolate tickles saccharine-sweet at the back of the hunter’s tongue. He notes the boy’s horns and long tail, and feels obligated to share, ”I’m a wolf-- sometimes. You know, all fur and teeth, and one hell of a mean appetite.” Stated simply, matter-of-factly, and left at that.

He casts a look at the trench-coat wearing man in the corner and is hit by the strange idea that maybe the guy died and no one thought to check. ”Logan.” The name comes automatic and Logan blinks, as if surprised by the sound of his own voice. Bleary grey eyes settle on the younger man and he manages a smile. ”Logan Duvall, and I guess I don’t really know what too young means anymore. So my apologies, friend, if I offended.”

When the day drags with no promise of real respite, the hunter grows listless. His hands slide into coat pockets, seeking distraction. What Logan finds is a pocket full of change. He holds a hand out and counts five pennies, two nickels, and a quarter. An amused huff, and Vyn is afforded a lopsided smile and a raised brow.

”You wanna hear a joke?” The subway rattles on and if Logan is stuck in a car with a too-human demon (he assumes) and a possible corpse, he might as well make the best of it. ”It’s a good one, I promise.”

[Ilvyn Daleroth]

"A wolf?" Ilvyn's eyes flicked over to the big guy for a moment and he reconsidered the gay sex. "A werewolf? This is going to sound crazy but I saw this girl turn into a cat a few nights before." His voice lowered substantially and a glimmer of nervousness played around the corner of his eyes. "I knew there were freaks around here but I hadn't seen anyone turn into an animal before then. So…if you have a 'mean appetite' are you saying you eat people? Do you lick your arse, too?"

Vyn stared at the stranger with guarded distaste, undoubtedly imagining the deplorable deed, but nevertheless finding the man attractive. Ilvyn was there for one reason, to get in the guy's pants, profound conversation aside. Uncertain about putting his tongue or dick inside anyone that might become an animal and bite him, he sought details. Likewise he asked because he was a foul little boy who felt entitled to the stranger's personal information. Vyn was a hypocritical creature with no boundaries, if the fellow had not learned this yet it was surprising.

"Logan, hello, I'm Peter," not really but the name rolled off his tongue without falter and he beamed. "I still kind of want to fuck you, even after what you told me, does that make me wrong?" He leaned against Logan, all bedroom eyes and lusty breath, placing his hand on the Logan's bicep and firmly squeezing. "I'm not too young to bed you."

"But it sort of seems like you don't want to," Vyn said with a pout in his voice. "Is it that you don't like men or you aren't attracted to me? It's just…you seem so down and I'm not feeling so great either. I was only hoping to cheer you up."

Ilvyn was there to satisfy his own needs but the way he said that line sounded lovely off his tongue as if there was some genuine kindness under all that unbridled desire. There was an impending 'no' coming and Ilvyn could feel it but chose to ignore it. He hated being told 'no' and he hated recognizing when that was the direction things would inevitably shift. He was still a youth in that manner, all that intelligence gone to waste on hopeful idealism, even over such simple matters on whether he would be allowed intercourse with a person he scarcely knew.

"A joke? Sure," but Ilvyn had shifted back into his lewd phase and it was clear by the look on his face and the way he had returned to clinging onto Logan like the deviant parasite he was. "Only if you really promise."

[Logan]

Ilvyn’s outlandish musings concerning the nature of wolves is treated with a crooked smile and a low chuckle. There was a time that Logan wondered the same things, and he still harbors a few secret questions that are too embarrassing to so much as utter.

Could a wolf impregnate a dog? Was Jeff joking that time he said he spent the night hitting up the neighborhood bitches? They are questions Logan thinks are better left unanswered.

”Well, Pete, I can’t say I rightly know what I get up to when there’s a tail hanging between my legs.” He wonders if Peter’s tail ever proves to be an inconvenience. The hunter eyes the appendage and imagines it as one hell of a tripping hazard. ”But I try not to eat people –often.” Logan’s tone dips and he gives a sharp grin. It’s all in good humor.

The kid sidles in closer and Logan lets him for no other reason than he is too tired and too laidback to care. Peter’s disposition is dogged and salacious, but this is not Logan’s first encounter with an inhuman force with one thing on its mind. His early twenties are full of strange stories involving sirens, warlocks, a voodoo woman and more. There was also the time he woke up next to what he thinks was a yeti, but that tale will never see the light of day.

It is Ilvyn's apparent youth and Logan's jaded history that will remain as the kid's biggest roadblock.

Grey eyes settle on the younger man’s face and Logan ducks his head with smile. ”That’s kind of you, Peter – but I’m not in the mood, alright?” Though the statement serves as the ‘no’ Peter expects, it is not unkind. Logan has dealt with his fair share of difficult people from the various jobs he’s worked, to his personal life involving hard-headed children. Patience is a weapon with which the hunter is well equipped.

”I’m a man of my word,” he declares. ”Hold out your hand – palm up.” Logan’s hand hovers beneath Peter’s and likely dwarfs it. He places a penny into the cup of the young man’s fingers and says, ”Do you see a snake? It’s a copperhead.” A second coin joins the first. ”Do you see fruit? It’s a pair.” A third penny jingles into place. ”Do you see cars? There’s three Lincolns.” The fourth and final coin falls face-up. Logan is wearing a lopsided grin at this point. ”Do you see sex?” A beat and then, ”Well, not for four cents you won’t!” Logan’s smile wanes, falters as his eyes widen upon a realization.

He leans away and quickly adds, ”Not that I’m offering. I mean, it’s just a joke.” Verbal backpedaling is a regular affair these days. Logan simpers and hopes he did not kick things back to square one. ”It was a good one, right?”

[Ilvyn Daleroth]

Ilvyn liked to think that in some ways he was more human than Logan, even if the comforting thought wasn't entirely true. Logan had been born a human and met some sort of fate, at least if he was a traditional werewolf, but Ilvyn had been weird since his birth. He didn't know what it was like to be entirely human, to not have his hooves, horns, or tail. Ilvyn never forgot who he was though, or what he was doing, and that was why he felt smugly satisfied. He never noticed the many implications that came with his satisfaction, the fact that being completely responsible for his actions painted him in a much darker light than the werewolf next to him, or the cruel hypocrisy that came with that superiority but Ilvyn was the kind to grasp for anything to raise his poor self-confidence. Even if it was at the expense of this handsome beast called Logan. Ilvyn would say nothing on that of course, he still appreciated Logan very much, and didn't want to make an enemy out of him right then.

"Not remembering, that is scary," was the boy's humorless remark. "You seem to take light of it. Unless you're just putting on a brave face so no one will know, either way that's quite impressive."

As nice as Ilvyn had been to the guy the sex proposal was politely turned down and Ilvyn was immediately indignant. He hated being told 'no'. He couldn't understand what was unreasonable about his offer and 'not being in the mood sounded' as poor of an excuse as 'having a headache'. He almost wished Logan had just told him he was an ugly fuck so the oncoming tantrum would be vindicated. Instead he looked away, bit his lip, and fought back a violent wave of rage that rolled through his chest and clenched his throat tight in a wrenching vise. He harshly pulled away from Logan with a look of the wrongfully slighted. All that warmth and wonderful scent of that man was not for him and the boy felt extremely bitter about it. It took an immense amount of strength to play nicely after that but the human side of him knew lashing out at Logan would do no good; the guy didn't really deserve it and Vyn was hurt because he genuinely liked him. Attacking Logan wouldn't be beneficial for either of them and should Ilvyn indulge in his inner fiendishness he knew he would come to regret it.

"Alright," Ilvyn agreed in a soft voice. A smear of blood appeared on his bottom lip where his sharp teeth pierced the skin but it was small and nearly unnoticeable. He considered opening up the water works in an attempt to win Logan's pity but a very shrewd part of him was quick to inform what a fruitless act that would be. It might even make the man dislike him and Ilvyn didn't want that. "I understand."

Ilvyn considered the joke Logan insisted on telling him with reluctance. After a long silent, fuming moment, Ilvyn compliantly held out his callous freckled hand, palm side up. It was difficult to stay angry at a man that was all crooked grins and good intentions. Still, the boy did not react to what Logan was saying until the very end, when he glanced up and saw the man's wide eyed reaction. That warranted a small smile and a short laugh.

"Clever. Yeah, it was good," the boy commended. "I have a trick as well though it's not half as witty as that."

He held the pennies trapped in his palm and procured a small pen and notepad seemingly out of nowhere. Taking the pen he scribbled a phone number on the paper. Ripping the sheet out he was quick to make the notepad and pen disappear again and pulled a hundred dollar bill out of one of his pockets. He lay the paper and the dosh parallel and began to carefully fold them. When he was done, he slipped the pennies inside the folds and held up a little origami sailboat, with stark white blue-lined paper sails and a boat made of money.

"Like it?"

He half-stood, violently grabbing Logan, shirt and coat twisted in his fist. Despite his medium stature Ilvyn pulled the man towards him with some real muscle behind his grasp and without warning harmlessly stuffed the paper sailboat down Logan's shirt. Then the boy planted a bloody kiss on the man's cheek and turned his head to whisper in his ear.

"I know I can't buy your love or your friendship, but I wanted to take you out. You're the only person I've met here that treated me human. That's something."

He stood up, releasing Logan's clothing, and stumbled at the gradual lurching of the car underneath his hooves. "Look, I know this sounds cheesy," Vyn said hastily. "But I really think people like you deserve good things. Now my cool planned exit is going to look really stupid if you're getting off here as well, so I'm going to run. Call me if you need anything, Logan, or just want to take me up on the offer." Vyn straightened his clothes, his face, his emotion, and offered a smile. "I wouldn't mind helping out a good looking guy like you."