Fics like John Watson's Moon

“You’ll let me see it, of course.” It takes John no time at all to realize what is being asked, to stiffen with indignation, but he asks, “See what?” nonetheless. The look those grey-green eyes level at him says please don’t actually be that stupid far more eloquently than should be possible. “You are loup garou, recently infected under traumatic circumstances and subsequently discharged from military service, most likely from a post in Afghanistan or Iraq. Your wounds would have healed with the passing of the initial fever, so whatever lingering effects you are suffering are likely psychosomatic – and severe enough to bar you from the one occupation where being a ruthless hunter is seen as a qualification rather than a detriment.” Those eyes flick back up from their cataloguing of John’s limbs and body to meet his eyes. “When I say you’ll let me see it, I am then, of course, referring to your wolf form.” “And why would I do that?” “Potential flatmates should know the worst about one another.”

Fics like John Watson's Moon

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