Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  Chapter 17

  Trust Falls

  It all started out simply enough, with the men chatting and laughing and generally making it into an enjoyable affair as they disorderly lined up and started with the trust falls. From his spot on the wall, Emerson observed them, grinning broadly as the pairs collapsed into each other’s arms and a warm, happy buzz of conversation filled the room.

  Whatever tension had been infecting them seemed to lift with this new activity, and for the first time all morning, just about everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Even Simon, who’d been pining for Fabian from afar for the entirety of the morning had shelved his sour expression for an easy smile as he fell backwards into Tyrone’s waiting arms.

  “You’re heavier than you look,” Tyrone grunted as he caught him, righting him onto his feet promptly.

  “Are you implying that I’m fat, Tyrone?” Simon gasped in mock offense, spinning around to flash him a grin.

  Tyrone said nothing at first, trading spots with Simon. Before he let himself fall, he finally answered, glancing back over his shoulder, “Not at all. You’re in excellent shape. Anyone can clearly see as much.”

  Simon smiled, pleased with the little ego boost. “Ah, so you have been checking me out. I knew it. You’re not nearly as sly as you think you are. I’m onto you, Tyrone.”

  Tyrone rolled his eyes, though Simon couldn’t see. “Hmm, well. It’s only that I find it rather puzzling.”

  “What’s puzzling?” Simon asked, a little of the amusement in his voice sapping away.

  Tyrone shrugged, almost imperceptibly, so casually that Simon found it infuriating. “You’re not really Fabian’s type.” And with no other warning, he fell gracefully backwards.

  Simon barely caught him in time, Tyrone landed in his arms solidly, almost bringing them both to the ground. “What the—”

  Tyrone let out a dignified ‘oof’ as they both struggled back to their feet. Simon’s eyes were wide with shock, and maybe just a trace of jealousy. Mostly shock though. Tyrone was as unreadable as ever and he managed to look collected despite having nearly fallen ass first on the floor. He adjusted his clothes, looking Simon over. “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter? What the hell, Tyrone!” Simon hissed, catching the attention of some of the other fellows for a second or two. His eyes darted around quickly. He was a rather shameless man when it came to his wants, needs, and preferences, but he had a few shreds of privacy left. He didn’t want the entire team knowing all of his personal business. He quickly recovered though, letting out a loud laugh, to distract everyone. “I wasn’t ready, you big goof!”

  Now, if there was somewhere on the planet a list of epithets which couldn’t possibly apply to Tyrone, ‘you big goof’ surely ranked somewhere near the top of it. As such, the red-haired man looked at Simon with such utter coolness, that it nearly made the man shiver. It wasn’t hatred, it wasn’t even disdain. It was a look which made Simon feel at once both microscopic and entirely transparent. Undeterred, he reached out to jostle Tyrone’s shoulder. “What are you talking about, Tyrone? What do you mean?”

  “It’s nothing, really.” Tyrone said. “Only an observation.”

  Simon felt his jaw set as he watched Tyrone glide around like he owned the place and owing no further explanation for his statement, and he instantly hated him for it. The smug bastard. Just who the hell did Tyrone think he was? And how dare he say anything to imply that he, Simon, was not the one and only love of Fabian’s life?

  “All right, wise guy. Explain.”

  Tyrone’s lips curled slightly and he walked into position behind Simon, arms open to catch him when he fell. “I’m not a gossip. I think I’ve already said too much. Surely I’ve overstepped.”

  “Don’t play all coy now, asshole.” Simon snapped. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

  Tyrone looked almost innocent then, arms still opened wide. He hummed softly, “Well, it’s just funny.” He paused. Simon glared at him. Tyrone smiled. “You mean he hasn’t told you about Daniel?”

  The noise Simon made echoed across the room. Winston craned his neck to look at them, taking his eyes off of Perry and Ian as they performed a picture perfect trust fall. “They're being really loud,” Winston said, frowning a little. “Do you think something’s the matter?”

  Indeed, both Ian and Perry snapped to attention, each of them staring over to where Simon and Tyrone stood; Tyrone unconcerned as he ever was while Simon stood very close to him, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. Ian let out a sharp snort, completely unimpressed.

  “Are you going to talk to him?” Perry asked, crossing his arms over his chest as Winston stepped in line with the two captains, looking like a henchmen or minion of some kind.

  “No,” Ian answered, folding his arms as well. Winston did, too.

  “You’re not afraid he’ll get into trouble?” The man glanced sideways at Ian, skepticism all over his face.

  Ian shrugged, “He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need me to babysit him.” Sure enough, Simon's babysitter of choice trotted over to investigate. Better to let Fabian play peacekeeper between Simon and Tyrone. It's what Simon had been begging for anyway. Ian was about to make another cutting remark when two different voices rose above the chatter.

  The trio looked over quickly to see Cassius and Garry in each other’s faces, far closer and angrier than was necessary considering the generally jovial nature of the situation. “Those two on the other hand...”

  “You almost dropped me, dumbass!” Garry barked.

  “I did not!” Cassius insisted, looking irritated. Okay, he might have almost dropped him, but it was a close call and nothing to be so upset about.

  “Pay attention! Stop staring at Drew and Adrian! What if I fell on my ass and broke my tailbone? What then?”

  “Then I’d take your spot. And I’m not staring at them! Shut up!”

  Perry and Ian exchanged a look. Beside them, Winston shook his head disapprovingly. Before the captains could swoop in and intervene, Carson and Sam took it upon themselves to handle the situation before it escalated any further. They each took hold of their best friend’s arm and pulled them in opposite directions, demonstrating that the bigger man in any given situation was often the shorter one.

  “Deep breaths, Garry,” Carson said, catching Ian’s gaze for a second or two. They held that look for a moment, and his smile brightened before he and Garry made eye contact. “He didn’t drop you.”

  “He almost did.”

  “And he also almost didn't. It was like a 50-50 chance and you both won. Isn't that awesome?”

  “Whatever. He needs to get his act together,” Garry insisted. “I feel like I’m the only person on this entire team who gives a shit about the championship. You all are so far gone, so worried about your personal dramas that you’ve basically forgotten that we’re here to play football, not get laid, and not to play these stupid games!”

  Carson frowned, pouted really, lower lip jutting out excessively. “I haven’t forgotten why we’re here.” And he wasn't getting laid. He very pointedly was not getting laid.

  “Are you sure? Because the last time I checked, you were swooning over Ian. And Simon is swooning over Fabian. And Cass is swooning over…I don’t even want to know who he’s swooning over, to be honest, but I swear to God if it’s Drew I might puke. Anyways, listen to me, Carson. I’m saying it’s out of control. Me, I’m saying that. Do you know how bad it must be if I am the voice of reason?”

  “You sound like Perry,” Carson mumbled, feeling properly scolded.

  “Yeah, well.” Garry huffed. “Would you rather hear this from him or from me?”

  “From you.”

  “Okay. Listen to me then. Forget about Ian. Forget about all of this nonsense. We have a championship to win. Focus on that.” He looked at Carson, pleading with those big blue eyes. “At least say you’ll try.”

  Carson sighed and nodded. When had he ever real
ly been able to say no to Garry? Basically never. And if Garry was tired of the relationship drama, then he’d do his part to tone it all down. Not that he wasn’t focused on the games ahead, but still. He’d rather appease Garry than piss him off any further.

  Sam, meanwhile, was doing his part to smooth Cassius’s ruffled feathers, listening to him unleash a muttered rant under his breath. Truthfully, he hadn’t been paying close attention to Cassius’s complaints until it became obvious that some of his outrage was directed at Sam, “… and none of this would even be an issue if you’d call off your attack dog!”

  Sam blinked. “Huh?”

  “You heard me.” Cassius scowled at him.

  “My attack dog?”

  “I mean Drew.”

  Sam looked confused. “He’s not my…what are you even talking about, Cass?”

  “I’m talking about him getting all up in Adrian’s face like that. I know what he’s trying to do. I’m on to him. I’m on to the both of you.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Cass? Drew hasn’t done anything to Adrian.” That might have been downplaying things a little, but allowing Drew to investigate Adrian hardly counted as an attack.

  Sam was about to say as much when he recalled the animosity which had been sparking throughout the room not ten minutes prior. Drew could be an intimidating figure when it suited him (which was most of the time, if Sam was being honest.) Maybe Cassius’s read hadn’t been so far off base. He then looked over at Drew and Adrian then. They both seemed to have calmed down, flaring tempers extinguished in favor of simply completing the task at hand. For all the bluster and glaring they’d engaged in, the men were quiet and paying their lovers no mind. In fact, now that Garry and Carsons’ little spat had been dealt with, the rest of the team had gone back to their game and weren’t paying any attention to Cassius and Sam at all.

  “I know you’re mad at me.” Cassius said softly from Sam’s side. He too was watching Drew and Adrian, voice a little pitiful. “I know you think I was stupid to tell him.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid,” Sam turned to look at him, to nip that train of thought in the bud. “I’ve never thought that. Never.”

  Cassius’ lips twisted into a thin line, a half a smile, as if he’d accepted that answer but didn’t quite believe it. It hurt Sam, like a tiny dagger in his heart. “I had to tell him. It felt wrong to keep it from him. I want him. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him. And I want him to have all of me.”

  Just then, as if somehow he realized he was being talked about, Adrian looked over at them. He grinned, positively beamed, and as he did, Cassius’ small tepid smile melted instantly into a dopey, lovesick grin.

  Was Sam wrong to feel so afraid? Had he crossed a line somehow and begun wading into a sea of hypocrisy? He'd told Drew. He'd told him everything. He'd been so scared to tell him, so utterly afraid he'd wind up rejected and broken, but he couldn't go on another moment without getting it all off his chest. He'd wanted Drew to take him as he was, to take all of him, the good, bad, and ugly, and love him just the same as he always had.

  Sam wanted acceptance. And he got it from Drew. He had it from Cassius, too. And if Cassius wanted Adrian, and Adrian likewise wanted him, then who the hell was Sam to object? He didn't understand the dynamics of Cassius and Adrian's relationship, but then again, he'd been in the dark for months. Maybe they were super functional and completely romantic. Or maybe they weren't that, at all. Either way, he figured he owed it to Cassius to try and be happy and supportive. They were friends and they were teammates, and beyond that, Sam liked to think they more or less made up a wolf pack of two.

  Still, it hadn't been a complete waste to let Drew sniff around a little. At the very least, the morning session was proof positive that Adrian was intimidated by Drew. That might be useful information someday. Maybe.

  Sam tilted his head, watching Cassius watching Adrian. “I know. I get it. I understand now.” And he did. Maybe he’d been blind before. He must have been, if he’d somehow missed the way Cassius looked at Adrian. It wasn’t an unfamiliar look either. It was a look that Sam had never thought to question before, never paused to consider until he’d seen Adrian return it the night before. He felt voyeuristic, even just thinking about it, and standing beside Cassius, he felt like he’d unwittingly interrupted something very personal.

  His moment of contemplation was interrupted by his own boyfriend, though. Drew caught his eyes, raising his brows a little before unleashing a toothy grin. Sam couldn’t help but smile back, biting his lower lip as he watched Drew get into position for a trust fall into Adrian’s arms.

  Sam and Cassius stood, watching and waiting when something odd happened. Drew’s face contorted. Or rather, it went completely slack. His eyes drooped shut. He wobbled, clearly off balance, and then he fell. Except instead of falling backwards and into the safety of Adrian’s waiting embrace, Drew fell forward and face-planted on the ground with a heavy, horrifying thud.

  Chapter 18

  Medic

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Fabian asked as he trotted over to Tyrone and Simon, his presence immediately sending waves of calm over them. Simon snapped to attention, like a scolded puppy caught barking at the cat. Tyrone, meanwhile, didn’t seem bothered at all. Fabian eyed the two of them suspiciously for a moment before giving half a smile. “Simon, what’s the matter? You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

  “Very good, Fabian. So observant.” Simon couldn’t help but pout at him a little before glaring at Tyrone again.

  Fabian laughed, trying to ease the tension. “W-what? Why?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Tyrone said flatly. “We were just talking and the conversation took an unexpected turn.”

  The blonde’s eyes narrowed, a sinking feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He looked to Tyrone first, searching his expression for some shred of sympathy, some indication that they were friends. They were friends, weren’t they? Not finding the desired answers in Tyrone’s impassive expression, he looked to Simon, giving a nervous smile.

  Simon looked back at him, eyes colder than usual, colder than Fabian had ever seen them before. It was so unlike Simon to look that way, Fabian was immediately unsettled. He flinched a little and tried not to let it show. “What were you talking about?”

  “Nothing important, Fabian—” Tyrone began.

  “We were talking about Daniel.” Simon cut him off. The way he said the name made it sound toxic, like he might be sick.

  Fabian’s heart stopped, just for a second or two. He froze, face fixed with a look of guilt. Or maybe it was just surprise at the unexpected topic of conversation. There was nothing going on between him and Daniel. Nothing of substance, at least.

  They were friends, very good, very close friends, and whatever Tyrone had insinuated was likely either a half-truth or a gross exaggeration. Besides, it wasn't as if Tyrone even knew anything anyway. Or rather he probably didn't. Or shouldn't. Not unless someone had opened their big mouth about certain things which definitely were not Tyrone's business. Which, in all likelihood was probably exactly what had happened. Fabian wasn't dumb. He could tell he'd been ratted out and he silently added the club captain to his list of people never to trust with personal information again.

  Still, he had nothing to be ashamed of, even as he stared helplessly into Simon's eyes. He said nothing, just swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as Simon gave him a look. It was a look Fabian had never seen from him before and he instantly felt as if he’d been knocked down a peg or two. He felt awful. He felt lower than the scum of the earth. And the funny thing was, he hadn’t done anything at all to deserve it.

  “What about him?” He asked, managing at last to find his voice. His eyes darted between the pair of them again, silently pleading with Simon to stay calm, to not punch anyone while trying to simultaneously signal to Tyrone that he was going to skin him alive for this totally unfair and uncalled-for intrusion.

  Tyrone
raised his eyebrows in the most infuriating way, giving Fabian a look he couldn’t quite decipher. Clearly Tyrone had something up his sleeve, and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He was crafty, even on his worst days. Fabian refused to panic though. He had nothing to hide. Well, pretty much nothing.

  “I could ask you the same thing. What about him, Fabian? What about Daniel?” Simon answered. Though this time the anger had disappeared from his voice. Instead he sounded wounded. It wasn’t completely obvious, but Fabian recognized it. Fabian knew. Simon was in pain.

  “Tyrone?” He asked, ignoring Simon and his sad puppy eyes for a moment. His own emotions, (hurt, disappointment, betrayal,) plainly written all over his face, he pressed on. “What did you do, Tyrone? What are you doing?”

  Tyrone didn’t falter, though he did stutter a little. “I haven’t d-done anything. I only mentioned his name.”

  Fabian was about to press him further, right there in front of Simon and the world, or at least lead them to a point where a temporary truce could be called and the discussion tabled for later, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone had fallen and hit the floor and hadn’t gotten back up. Tyrone and Simon saw it too, and all three of them forgot what they were doing as they realized Drew was face-down on the floor in a lifeless heap.

  “Holy—” Cassius cried, staggering over to Adrian, who was standing over him in complete and utter shock. A step behind him was Sam, white as a ghost, breath rising quickly in his chest as he grabbed Drew’s arm. “Come on, man! Get up! You’re freaking us out!”

  Drew laid lay there, totally unresponsive.

  Cassius looked back at his lover, accusation in his voice. “What happened? Adrian!”

  Tyrone approached them then, concern woven into his worn features. “What’s the matter? Why’s he on the floor? Is he hurt?”

  “I don’t know!” Adrian stammered, he dropped down on his knees to check on Drew. “Get a medic! Someone! He’s unconscious!”