The Wolf and the Cat

9---nine---9

Patrick didn't shift all night. He served as Pete's therapy animal that night, his fur acting as a way to relax Pete.

In the morning he wiggled out of Pete's arms and limped to the end of the bed. He shifts, stretching out his limbs and checking out his foot.

The popping of Patrick's joints is enough to snap Pete out of his slumber. "What're you doing?"

"Stretching," Patrick hums as he arches his back and raises his arms. Once he relaxes, he turns to Pete. "Did you mean it last night?"

"Mean what?"

"Mean what you said. That you needed me."

Pete averts his eyes, standing. "Everyone needs someone."

Patrick smirks. "Is that your way of saying yes?"

"No," Pete frowns.

"I think it is," Patrick hops over, tossing his arms over Pete's shoulders to hug him from behind. "I need you too."

Pete likes the sound of that. He likes being needed. He likes being needed by a boy that makes his heart swell. Being needed sounds better when it's coming from Patrick's lips.

"Are we hunting today?" Patrick hums.

"I can't eat fish again," Pete frowns. "Two days in a row was enough."

"So what's on the menu today?"

Pete leans forward, enough to tip Patrick off his feet and onto his back. The smaller gets the hint and tightens his legs to cling to Pete.

"Whatever I find," Pete straightens, grabbing a blanket from the bed before heading outside.

"It's not that cold, Pete," Patrick looks to the blanket.

"It's so you're comfortable."

"Me? I'm already comfortable," Patrick adjusts his grip on Pete's shoulders.

"I'm not carrying you around while I hunt," Pete frowns. "I'm hiding you somewhere."

"Excuse me?" Patrick scoffs.

"It's not safe in the house and I'm not going to hunt with you on my back," Pete approaches a rotted tree, with a hole at the base.

"I'm not going in there."

"Yes," Pete unlatches Patrick. "You are."

Patrick stands with his arms crossed as Pete places the blanket inside. He brushes it clean before looking back to Patrick.

"You won't fit unless you shift."

"I'm not shifting."

Pete narrows his eyes. "Shift."

Patrick holds his ground. "No."

"Patrick, get in the damn tree."

"I don't want to! I want to hunt!"

Pete sighs. "You can't hunt when you're injured. When that foot heals you can come with me, but for now you're going to hide."

Patrick understands, but the stubborn side of him won't give up. He looks around for a few seconds before snatching two tall sticks.

"What are you doing?" Pete frowns.

Patrick uses his good foot and the two sticks to hop around. He's actually pretty speedy this way, and his pout turns into a smirk.

"I'm coming with you now," He looks to his sticks. "I can walk by myself."

Pete would argue, but he's losing hunting time. "Fine, just try to keep up," Pete starts down the trail.