Dinamic Duo: Super vs Crazy

The safehouse smelled like spent gunpowder, cheap takeout, and the metallic tang of dried blood. It was a familiar scent to Adrian Chase, one that usually signaled a successful night of dispensing justice—or, as the police called it, "multiple counts of first-degree murder."

Adrian sat on the edge of the tattered sofa, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he meticulously cleaned the slide of his Glock. Across from him, Caleb Reeds was leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of water. Caleb’s long black hair was a messy nest of tangles, and his dark skin was slick with sweat from the night’s exertion. Being The Lycan was physically taxing; shifting bones and growing fur tended to burn through calories like a forest fire.

"You're staring again, Adrian," Caleb said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He didn't look up, but his ears—even in human form—were sharp.

"I'm not staring. I'm observing," Adrian corrected, clicking the slide back into place with a satisfying snap. "There’s a tactical difference. Observation is for professionals. Staring is for creeps. And I am a professional. I have a suit and everything."

Caleb sighed, his brown eyes flickering with a hint of gold in the dim light. "You’re a lunatic. That’s what you are."

"A lunatic for justice," Adrian chirped. He set the gun down and hopped off the sofa, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He walked over to Caleb, invading his personal space with the total lack of boundaries that had become his trademark. "You were great out there, by the way. Very toothy. Very 'National Geographic.' You really shredded that guy's leg. I mean, he’s definitely going to have a limp, but he was a sex trafficker, so he can limp his way to hell."

Caleb finally looked at him, a tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, Adrian."

Adrian tilted his head, his curly brown hair flopping over his forehead. He reached out, patting Caleb’s chest. "You really are a top-tier partner. Like a sidekick, but we’re equals, so you’re more like a... a puppy. A big, murderous puppy."

Caleb froze. The air in the room seemed to shift. Adrian noticed the way Caleb’s pupils dilated instantly, the brown of his irises swallowed by a sudden surge of molten gold. His breathing hitched, and his shoulders, usually tense with the weight of his stoic personality, suddenly slumped in a strange, involuntary relaxation.

Adrian blinked, his blue eyes wide behind his lenses. "Whoa. Your heart rate just went from sixty to a hundred and twenty. Are you having a stroke? Should I perform an emergency tracheotomy? I have a straw and a combat knife."

Caleb shook his head, clearing the fog from his expression. He looked flustered, a rare sight for a man who usually faced down tactical teams without blinking. "Don't call me that," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave.

"Call you what? A puppy?" Adrian asked, his curiosity piqued. He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching Caleb's. "Why? Does it make your wolf-brain go all fuzzy? Puppy. Puppy, puppy, puppy."

Caleb groaned, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge of the marble so hard it started to hairline crack. "Adrian, stop. It’s... it’s a sensory thing. The Lycan side. It reacts to certain... verbal cues. It’s instinctive."

Adrian’s grin turned mischievous. This was better than finding a pristine set of throwing stars in a dumpster. "Instinctive, huh? So, if I say it, you feel compelled to be a... good boy?"

The effect was instantaneous. Caleb’s knees actually buckled slightly. A soft, frustrated sound escaped his throat—something halfway between a growl and a whimper. His tail, which wasn't even visible in his human form, seemed to be metaphorically wagging so hard it was shaking his entire frame.

"Oh, this is amazing," Adrian breathed, clapping his hands together. "This is better than the time I found out Peacemaker was afraid of ghosts. You’re a good boy, aren't you, Caleb?"

"Shut up," Caleb hissed, though there was no bite in it. His eyes were fully yellow now, glowing with an eerie, lupine light. He looked caught between wanting to tackle Adrian and wanting to put his head in Adrian’s lap. "It’s not funny, Chase. It’s a physiological response to positive reinforcement. It’s humiliating."

"Humiliating? No way!" Adrian circled him like a shark, or perhaps a very energetic golden retriever. "It’s adorable. You’re like a lethal killing machine that runs on head pats and praise. It explains so much. No wonder you always wait for me to give the signal before we breach. You’re waiting for your master to tell you it’s okay."

Caleb reached out, grabbing Adrian by the front of his tactical vest and pulling him flush against his chest. The height difference was minor, but Caleb’s sheer physical presence was overwhelming. "I don't have a master," he growled, his breath hot against Adrian’s skin.

Adrian didn't look intimidated. If anything, he looked ecstatic. He reached up, his fingers tracing the line of Caleb’s jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble. "Sure you don't. But you still want to hear it, don't you? You want to hear that you did a good job tonight."

Caleb’s grip on the vest loosened, his fingers trembling. He hated how much he liked it. He was a serious man, a man of shadows and blood, yet Adrian—with his ridiculous glasses and his complete lack of a filter—could turn his brain into mush with four syllables.

"You’re a menace," Caleb whispered.

"I'm a visionary," Adrian corrected. He stood on his tiptoes, whispering directly into Caleb’s ear. "Such a good boy. Such a brave, strong puppy."

Caleb let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping onto Adrian’s shoulder. He was defeated. The Lycan within him was practically rolling over, paws in the air. "I'm going to kill you," Caleb murmured into the fabric of Adrian’s suit. "As soon as I can move my legs again, I'm going to kill you."

"No you won't," Adrian said confidently, patting the back of Caleb’s head, his fingers weaving through the long black strands of hair. "You like it too much. It’s okay, Caleb. We all have our things. I like cutting toes off people who break the law, and you like being told you’re a precious little doggy. It’s what makes us a power couple."

Caleb pulled back, looking at Adrian with a mixture of affection and utter exasperation. "We are not a 'power couple' because of that. And if you ever say 'precious little doggy' again, I will actually eat your face. Not metaphorically. I will consume your features."

Adrian hummed, unimpressed by the threat. "Whatever you say, puppy."

Caleb’s eyes flashed, and before Adrian could get another word out, Caleb had swept him off his feet, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Put me down! I have dignity!" Adrian yelled, though he was laughing.

"You have zero dignity," Caleb said, turning and heading toward the bedroom. "And if I have to deal with this 'good boy' talk, then you have to deal with the consequences of getting a wolf all worked up."

"Is the consequence cuddles?" Adrian asked, his voice muffled by Caleb’s back. "Because if it’s cuddles, I win. I always win. Also, can we watch that documentary on poisonous frogs? I want to see if I can make my own venom."

Caleb kicked the bedroom door open, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his serious facade. "We’ll see, Adrian. Just... be quiet for five minutes."

"I can do that," Adrian said. He paused for exactly two seconds. "Caleb?"

"What?"

"Good boy."

Caleb groaned, tossed Adrian onto the bed, and followed him down, deciding that if he couldn't beat the teasing, he might as well enjoy the rewards. It was a strange life, being a vigilante and a werewolf, but with Adrian Chase, it was never, ever boring.