Archive of Our Own

It was a beautiful day in the forest, and Fox was having his bedroom redecorated, again. He had just found that his current room had transitioned from stylish and vibrant to tacky and tasteless, and with the snap of his fingers, his home was filled with decorators, working to create his vision.

This did come with one downside, that being that he now had no place to sleep for the next few weeks – or however long it took them to achieve perfection. He had told Wolf about his problem mostly because he was the only one he could tell, but also because he’d never, not once in his life, passed up an opportunity to complain.

Wolf had gone slightly quiet and then, in a carefully carefree tone, offered to let him stay over his like he had the last time he’d had decorators over, only with none of the sly tricks he had pulled last time. He wasn’t going to get any of the special treatment he had weaselled his way into before. Fox had grumbled under his breath at that but agreed readily. After all, where else could he go?

Rabbit and his family had left to go on a weekend trip so the pair had nothing to do, and went straight to Wolf’s home.

There was no use in giving a tour of the house with how often Fox was there but Wolf gave one anyway – at Fox’s insistence that “it was only good manners.” He moved them half jokingly through all of the rooms before gesturing to the couch in the living room.

“And here is where you’ll be sleeping.”

Fox made a sour face at that, wrinkling his nose, his mouth curling into what could only be described as a pout. “No, no, no,” He said, shaking his head emphatically, “Really, I might as well sleep on the forest floor.”

“That’s still an option.”

Fox looked comically affronted at that, “Might I remind you that you were the one to invite me here, and that it is only common decency to let the guest take the bed?”

“I am not sleeping on the couch in my own house.” He had hurt his back the last time he tried, having fallen asleep while watching a movie, but Fox didn’t need to know that. “And the kids have scouts tomorrow so they need their room so they can get enough sleep.”

“But really, the sofa? I’d rather die.” He said dramatically, his eyes glaring at the offending piece of furniture and zeroing in on a stain on one of the cushions, “and I will not be sleeping on anything with a stain on it.”

Wolf couldn’t really argue with that. He couldn’t remember what the stain was from but it looked nasty and though he’d still happily sit on the sofa to eat or watch tv, he also wouldn’t stoop to sleeping on it.

“Fine,” he sighed, “My bed is a queen-size. Plenty of room for both of us.” He was looking away, scratching at his furred chin.

Fox pulled him in for a hug, “See, I knew you could be a dear.”

Reluctantly, Wolf wrapped his arms around his friend and felt Fox mumble something that sounded like “so strong” against the bulk of his torso.

“Alright, alright,” He said, pulling away, “let’s get your stuff moved up there.”

He only complained a little when Fox had him do all the work, his irritation at how his friend shirked manual labour mollified by the stream of compliments he had for Wolf’s strength. It made him feel like the kind of wolf he wanted to be, the kind of wolf he’s supposed to be.

It also made him feel strange somewhere in his stomach, but he did his level best to ignore that.

Eventually, all the luggage was brought up (he debated questioning if this much stuff was really necessary, but he can already hear the lecture that would follow such a question) and Fox was already poking about his room, making comments about his design choices, some under his breath, but most aloud.

“I don’t suppose you could move the bed about two inches to the left? I sleep so much better like that.”

Wolf rolled his eyes but dutifully moved it, conscious always of how Fox’s eyes lingered on his arms, his gaze appreciative and warm.

“Better?” he asked as he straightened up.

“Much.” Fox agreed.

Their dinner is woefully not rabbit stew. Instead, Wolf orders pizza with any number of meat toppings. Fox eyes the food dubiously, but he takes a slice (after tucking his napkin into his shirt of course), bemoaning the grease and how he would most definitely need to book in several more Pilates classes if he still wanted to fit into his clothes.

“Lycra is so unforgiving.”

Wolf side-eyed him from where he had been watching tv, “You look fine, just eat it.”

Fox’s eyes widened, “Just fine? Dear god, it’s worse than I thought.”

“Better than fine then.” He amended.

“How eloquent.”

Wolf rolled his eyes, “You look handsome, is that what you want me to say?” and as he said it, he realised that it was the truth; he really did consider Fox to be incredibly handsome. He hoped his flushed cheeks weren’t too obvious.

“I don’t want you to say anything, but if you feel compelled to tell me how good I look, I certainly won’t stop you” but he looked happier now, pleased with himself.

Wolf held his gaze a tad longer than he had intended, “You look great, okay. Few slices of pizza ain’t gonna change that”

Now that had Fox grinning smugly and settling back into the sofa (far away from the mystery stain), quite a bit closer to Wolf than was strictly necessary, taking a bite out of the triple meat loaded pizza with relish.

When it got late and Barry and Simon were starting to droop, Wolf sent them up to bed before clambering up to his own bedroom, Fox hot on his heels. Fox immediately grabbed the bathroom and then spent the better part of an hour meticulously going through his skincare routine: cleansers, toners, serums and masks – if it existed, he used it. He emerged when Wolf was already in bed in what he always wore: plaid pyjama bottoms and no shirt. Fox was wearing some matching pyjama set with a silk wrap which he shed before getting into bed. It was so him that Wolf had to hold back a laugh.

In the quiet of the night, he could hear every breath Fox took. They were uneven; he was awake and, though there really was plenty of room in the bed, he was only a few inches away. He kept his hands to himself though. It felt weird, Wolf thought, to be so close to him and yet not touching even a little bit and, before he could think it through too much, he slung an arm over Fox’s torso, feeling rather than hearing the way his breath hitched.

Fox grinned, his eyes still shut, and he shuffled closer so that he could rest his head on Wolf’s furred chest. It was firm and he could hear Wolf’s heartbeat steadily increasing in pace.

“Now this,” he breathed contentedly, “I could get used to this.”

When he awoke, Fox found himself completely enveloped in Wolf’s fierce grip. Even his legs, powerful and pleasantly muscular, were wrapped around him. He felt constricted, confined. He felt really good. His face was pressed firmly into Wolf’s chest, and he realised with a start that he had been drooling. He shut his jaw with a snap and suddenly felt the body beneath him start to shake. The sound of gruff laughter followed, and he lifted his head to glare at Wolf.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to be this loud so early in the morning?”

“And it’s polite to drool?”

Fox coloured, “Be quiet, you,” and he buried his face back in Wolf’s chest, “Five more minutes.”

“You’re clingy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; I was sleeping perfectly well, and then you slung those great big arms around me. Those big, strong arms…”

Wolf tightened his hold on Fox, grinning at the sound of pleasure Fox let out. That funny feeling in his stomach had come back tenfold, but he found it wasn’t too bad once he got used to it, and nothing felt too bad when Fox was nearby, no matter how annoying he could be, or how often he refused to do any form of manual work. It just felt right for them to be by each other’s side, whether they were working on schemes to get themselves a rabbit dinner or like this now, just enjoying each other’s company – and body warmth.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Simon and Barry came barrelling in, asking a million different questions that neither Fox nor Wolf had the mental capacity to parse through, let alone answer. Fortunately, the questions stopped pretty quickly once they saw their dad tangled up with Mr Fox.

“Ewwwwwwww!” They cried, covering up their eyes, and then, “Does this mean we’re getting another sibling?”

Fox groaned into Wolf’s fur, “Their grasp on biology is abysmal.”

Breakfast was cold pizza, which Fox, in his silk wrap again, thought about turning his nose up at before his stomach growled and he just accepted it.

“We have got to get some meat today.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Barry and Simon were playing some loud videogame in the living room, which they ignored. Wolf cleared his throat, “So,” he began, “how long are they going to be redecorating your bedroom?”

Fox swirled his cup of tea delicately, “Oh, who can tell with these things? Could be some time…” He eyed Wolf slyly.

“Well then, you’ll just have to stay here then, for a while at least.”

“That sounds lovely.” Fox said, letting his hand rest lightly atop Wolf’s and smiling when Wolf took his hand properly, interlacing their fingers.