packs aren't always of the same species (a WayHaught au)

merry christmas

You were instructed - via sticky note stuck to your forehead - to shower, change, and meet up in the basement lab, accompanied by a warning stating that if you weren't there within the next two hours, Wynonna would be forced to give you mouth-to-mouth.

You immediately sprang into action, practically giving yourself whiplash with how fast you sat up. You had to take a second to just breathe until the swimming in your head subsided and you felt you could at least get out of bed.

Without any windows in the room, you had no way of knowing what time it was, but you had an inkling it wasn't the same day as when you had woken up the last time. The wolf confirmed with a huff and you quietly apologized for your weak human body. She was growing reckless and the prickling of your skin told you she needed to get out and soon.

Over the years since The Incident - The Change, The Bite, The Whatever - the two of you had come to a series of compromises. One being, she would always allow you the conscious decision to change before taking over - with a few fine print clauses, of course - and you would allow her to stretch her legs every once in a while, so to speak. (The full moon was an exception out of your control, unfortunately, but she wasn't hostile if she didn't need to be and even though you still locked yourself up every month, despite the wolf's eye rolls, she understood why you need that sense of control.)

When you finally stood, your legs didn't wobble like you expected them to, from lack of use, but instead successfully carried you over to the counter against wall, opposite the bed. You found a set of hideous pink scrubs sat, folded neatly, next to a toothbrush and small travel sized tube of toothpaste, a shiny red apple, a peanut butter chocolate chip granola bar and another note:

"Found these just for you! Thought they'd go GREAT with your hair! Oh, and brush your teeth, you have dog breath.

P.S. Eat these, that wolf of yours was about to have a hissy fit if we gave you one more bag of liquid 'food'.

P.S.S Eat them SLOW! I do not need to relive you throwing up all over yourself again.

Thanks, Scoobs!"

As if on cue, your stomach growled something fierce and you stuffed the scrubs under your arm, the apple into your mouth, and the granola bar and toothbrush and tube of toothpaste into your free hand before leaving the room and set out to find the closest shower.

The closest shower happened to be directly across the hall. You figured it some good omen or a sign from the gods that things were looking up. (You also figured that was a huge stretch because this building was old as dirt and there was no way in whatever hell this was that someone put the shower directly across the hall from this specific room, anticipating you were going to be half dead in it at one point. But you didn't dwell on that, you simply accepted the shower for what it was.)

You took your time. You had two hours to waste (assuming you hadn't been asleep that long after Wynonna left the note) so you took your time in washing the remaining gunk out of your hair, off of your skin, from under your fingernails. You let yourself forget how much time you spent under the hot spray of water and just stood there, your eyes closed, hoping it would somehow wash away the memories as well, the pain - the wolf was silent the entire time, you figured she was giving you this time to yourself.

Unfortunately, the water only resulted in scorching your skin red and it eventually ran cold, forcing you to cut the stream off and gather a towel around your bruised body. (You were pleasantly surprised to see your wounds free of stitches and blood-stained gauze. Most of them had healed into scars surrounded by yellowing bruises, but a few of the deeper ones were scabbed over and healing nicely, now that your blood was rid of any silver. Chicks dig scars though, right? Not that you could actually tell the story behind them...) Once significantly dried off, you slipped the pair of pink scrubs on, avoided the mirror and grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste. Now that you were aware, your mouth tasted an odd mixture of plastic, acid, and copper, which you immediately set about getting rid of. You didn't bother messing with your hair, you towel dried it as much as you could, but that was it, it was a futile effort. You would've thrown it up if you had a hair tie.