Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Monsters — Monster who's not giving it back. Nuh-uh. It's theirs now
"Hey, Gems. Ditched the wife for an after-work drink?"
Gemma makes a sad noise, barely looks up, and goes back to slowly spinning her overpriced glass of white wine around and around in place on the bar.
"Jesus, all right." Jackie leans on the bar next to her, orders a beer, and looks her over. "Had a fight?"
"No," Gemma says. "...Maybe when I get home. Think she's probably mad about stuff I did last night. When I wasn't—" she gestures vaguely at herself, "this shape."
Jackie purses her lips. "Yeah?"
"Got into our...toys, and ran down the garden with one." Gemma says, and takes a swig of wine, and side-eyes Jackie until she chokes down her laughter.
"Sorry. Sorry. Not funny, gotcha."
"It's not," Gemma says. "It's the third time. And the fucking asshole neighbour is always itching for an excuse to get the cops out to the furry monster house."
"Yeah, okay." Jackie's face falls, and she pats Gemma's back. "Not funny."
"It's not even that," Gemma says miserably. "I mean, I didn't — I didn't want to check this morning before work, but you can't reliably sterilise them if they get tooth punctures, you know? And if we have throw out another one I think Wanda's gonna put her foot down about replacing them — you know what decent quality silicone costs. And it's our favourite." She pushes the glass around. "My favourite," she adds quietly.
Jackie hums. "Why'd you do it?" she says gently. "I know — well, look, I know what people say about your mind not working the same. But it ain't an inscrutable alien intelligence, is it, it's still kinda you."
"I miss her," Gemma says, and runs the back of her hand across her eyes. "I know she's right there but I'm a wolf and for a while we're not the same shape and it's — not the same. And being a werewolf is horny, okay, I go wolf-shaped and horny and I can't have her, and I get sad, and stealing our knotting strap to feel closer to her makes sense to my dumb dog brain." She hunches over her drink.
Jackie runs a thoughtful thumbnail along the edge of the label on her beer bottle. "You two ever thought about," she says carefully, and mimes chomping teeth.
"That's not something you just do," Gemma says shortly. "And I love her the way she is."
"Have you told her all this?"
Gemma snorts defensively. "And say what — I keep ruining our things when I'm dog-shaped because I'd really like her to fuck a dog?"
Jackie winces. "Maybe not like that—"
"They prosecuted someone for it in California last year," Gemma adds, over the rim of her glass. "Outside the shitty cishet ladyporn jungle savage fantasy of being railed half to death by an alphaaaaaaa, nobody actually wants werewolf sex with people. The reality's not — y'know."
"Jesus," Jackie says. "Talk to your girl about being sad, Gems. Don't be an idiot, okay, she thinks you're the best thing since comfortable bras. Talk to her."
Gemma mutters something indecipherable.
"Hey."
"Hey." Wanda, on one of their kitchen stools, looks at her over a book with tea at her elbow, and Gemma sighs at her expression.
"Jackie texted you," she says resignedly.
Wanda puts the book down and holds out her hands until Gemma warily walks into her hug. "I don't need Jackie to tell me you're beating yourself up," she says into Gemma's shoulder. "You have a bunch of feelings and experiences when you're wolf-shaped, and not all of them feel great when you're this-shaped again. I know, baby." She strokes Gemma's back. "You can always tell me about it, when you're ready."
" I know." Gemma rests her head on Wanda's, and breathes. "...So. Do we need to put another dick down?"
Wanda snorts. "Unscathed; you were very gentle with it, this time. I'm sorry for shouting at you so much, I just — didn't want the cops on the doorstep, again, scaring you. That bitch next door—"
"You're so good," Gemma says into her hair, soft and wobbly.