Chapter Text
Shifting is a bastard. Danny Williams has known this for seven years now, ever since he was the unlucky one to catch a rabid feline meth head on a paranoid high back in Jersey. It doesn’t matter how many years, how many times, bones still break and reshape, shrink and expand, muscles tightening and twisting around them while fur pushes through the skin, fangs through gums, claws out of fingertips. He hates it with every fiber of his being and considers it the biggest reason why he challenges the nights of the full moon to do their worst and force out the animal beneath his skin because he refuses to submit willingly. He’ll stubbornly deny it the upper hand as long as he can.
They’re also a secretive bunch, which he’s thankful for. He rarely meets others and when the stray scent consisting of both human and animal touches his sensitive sense of smell, he’s learned a few hundred ways to excuse himself or avoid. He’s fine on his own, he doesn’t need shifter friends or mentors to show him the lifestyle or risk outting him to friends and family. He should believe that they’ll accept him for who he is, but the anxiety that runs his mind in circles late at night while he tries to sleep always builds a worst case scenario when he thinks about telling someone. Each one act scene plays out in his mind, rejection, disgust, terror. He’s not really all that human anymore.
In his line of work, however, he’s learned that secrets always come back to bite the keeper in the ass. It’s never been more true for him then now as the suspect he and Steve pursued into the woods stops on the edge of the stream running past and turns to face them. If he’d ever considered shifting more than the bare minimum, he’d be a little jealous of the ease in which the weapons dealer turns from an intimidating man to an even more intimidating black bear, standing well above the two cops in front of him. The only sign that the shift bothers him is the tightening around his eyes and mouth before it’s lost to fur. Danny hears Steve swear loudly beside him and reflexively looks, seeing the SEAL’s wide eyes and dropped jaw, before the action costs him. With the swipe of a big paw, he’s sent crashing along before he comes to a sliding stop against a bush with a crunch of branches. Nearby, he hears an all too human ‘oomph’ as Steve finds an uncomfortable landing as well.
And now his gun is gone. On his hands and knees, Danny quickly skims his hands over the ground as he moves while keeping the bear in his peripheral. He isn’t interested in Danny, doesn’t see him as the threat yet. Or maybe it’s the small stream of blood running down the side of Steve’s face where he slammed into a rock, piquing the bear’s bloodlust. His heart slams in his chest and he knows if he doesn’t do something soon, SEAL jerky is going to be on the menu, followed by a helping of Jersey bites. When it comes down to it, Steve alive is by far more important than the fallout that will follow this incident.
The one good thing about Danny’s animal form is that it doesn’t reduce his clothing to scraps if he needs to shift quickly. Once the kevlar vest is off and tossed to the side, he finds the animal under his skin curled up in the recesses of his mind and beckons it forward. His teeth grit as the changes take place, reminding himself that the less he fights, the quicker it will come and time is off the essence. Precious moments pass before he can wriggle loose from his shirt and pants to find Steve staring at him, back pressed against the rock as the bear continues to advance.
So now he has a real David and Goliath match up on his hands, black bear versus a gray fox. If he was a betting man watching this match up, he’d take the bear, but he’s not and Danny likes to think that he’s a hell of a lot smarter than this law-breaking putz. If the man was smart, he would have gotten a law-abiding job like the rest of them. The list of crimes on his rap sheet means Danny feels absolutely no guilt as he sinks his teeth into the bear’s heel. Roaring in pain, the bear drops down to four feet and kicks out the one Danny’s attached to, loosening him up enough to send him skidding again. So he’s managed to piss it off - an easy feat for Danny on any given day with most people - and it’s advancing on him.
Which is right about when a rock bounces off the broad head and goes flying into the brush next to Danny. “Hey!” Steve, all stupid bravado, is back on his feet again, a thick branch in his hands like he’s going to knock this bear out to the cheap seats. It’d be admirable if not so ridiculous to picture. Still, it distracts the bear long enough that Danny can get to his feet, dart around the bear, and pounce from the ground, aiming it just right so as to lock his teeth on a very important artery in the bear’s neck.
The next few minutes - or seconds, Danny can’t really tell because all he can think is don’t let go - blur past as his body swings in the air as the bear tries to dislodge him, swatting at his small body with large paws, shaking, roaring in anger. He knows he’s hit the right spot because he can feel something warm and sticky sliding over the fur on the bottom of his jaw, neck, and stomach, the taste of copper hitting his tongue and making the fox clamp down harder with the prospect of fresh meat. Slowly, the shaking begins to lessen until the bear drops drunkenly to all four feet again and staggers sideways. He’s so engaged in the hunt that he doesn’t let go in time and the heavy body not only drops on him, but pins him in the shallows of the stream nearby.
His paws scrabble at the slimy rocks underneath the water as he tries to break through the surface for air. Despite the animal panic in his brain, the human offers up the morbid thought that maybe this is rectifying the wrong committed all those years ago when Billy died and Danny somehow escaped. His lungs are burning and he can’t focus enough to shift back past the panic, his vision beginning to dim in warning. This can’t be how it’s going to end.
He barely feels the dead weight lift off of him, the strong arms that wrap around him and pull him to the surface. His body hurts and it takes some coaxing before he can pull in air. With it comes the reassuring scent of ocean and soap that he’s come to associate with Steve. His body is wrapped in something soft and warm and the arms cradle him. “I’ve got you, buddy.” There’s no fear in Steve’s voice, no judgement, just concern. He hears the crunch of dead leaves under Steve’s boots, feels his movements as he heads back for the truck.
And through it all, Danny wants to tell him to put him down. It’s a carry over from being human. Yes, he knows he’s smaller than most, but that’s no excuse to pick him up. No one would go out into the wild and think they could pick up a fox, would they? However, if he ended up on his feet now, he’d probably end up a pile of fur and bushy tail anyway, so he makes a disgruntled noise but doesn’t push the issue.
Steve pulls down the tailgate on his truck and sets Danny down, letting the fabric fall around him. Now that he can see better, he realizes that his partner has once more found a reason to divest himself of clothing and he’s left smears of blood (the bears, not his, he’s hoping) all over the pale gray fabric. Suddenly Steve’s fingers are sliding over his body, feeling along his legs and ribs, down his spine with the same dedicated laser focus he reserves for taking down suspects. Danny yips as his fingers skim his hips and brush a little too close to parts for comfort. “Relax. I’m making sure you didn’t break a hip, Danno,” Steve chides him in the same tone he uses when they bicker in the car. That alone makes Danny relax more than a reassurance. Those can be faked but a fall back to routine says acceptance is close.
Once Steve finishes, he uses the shirt to dry Danny off before tossing it into a corner of the truck. Danny turns to hop off the tailgate when Steve suddenly slides an arm under his belly and lifts him up. “You and I are going to have a talk once you can make human words again,” he mutters as he pushes the tailgate back into place, “especially about your use of ‘animal’ when talking about my methods.” There’s a small smile on his face when Danny tilts his head up to glare at him, pale blue eyes narrowing and ears laying back. That only makes the smile grow on Steve’s face and he casually walks to the driver’s side door and swings in. While Danny expects to be deposited on the passenger’s side, he instead remains settled on Steve’s lap.
The truck starts and Steve backs it out of its spot, putting them back on the path to civilization. Once he can manage with one hand, his free one drops to stroke the fur on Danny’s chest and neck, the detective’s eyes sliding shut. His body still aches and he’s exhausted and damp, but he’s never felt this before and it feels like a little bit of heaven. He says as much with a quiet, rumbling growl in his chest. “You can relax,” Steve reassures him. “Once you’re up for it, we’ll figure out where we go from here.” Danny’s body stiffens up and Steve must be able to feel it because Steve swears. “No, babe, not about this. At least not you. Your secret is safe with me, I swear.”
So maybe he could have told him sooner, let one person help him carry the secret that weighed on his shoulders all these years. For someone so suddenly and violently introduced to this world, Steve is taking it in stride far better than he ever imagined. Danny rubs his head against Steve’s stomach and the stroking resumes.
“You know, while you’re silent for once in your life, start thinking of how we’re going to explain our dead weapons-dealing black bear, all right?”