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losille2000 · 4 years

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Hoot and Howl, Chapter 3

TITLE: Hoot and Howl CHAPTER NUMBER: 3/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 CHARACTERS: Actor!Chris Evans/OFC GENRE: Paranormal Romance (more on the magical realism side?) FIC SUMMARY: Chris goes on a camping trip to calm the noisy anxiety in his head, but it ends up leading him into his own messed up version of a Disney movie. When he said he wanted to be a Disney prince as a boy, this was absolutely not what he meant. Especially considering that the princess is also, well… about that… RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: Nothing. AUTHORS NOTES: Sorry for the wait... and thank you all for reading!

Previous Chapter - Also available on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 3

A hand on Chris’ shoulder shook him awake. It took a few seconds to fully come to, but once he did, he immediately noted how dark the room was. The dying embers in the fireplace barely illuminated the silent woman hovering over him from her spot standing behind the couch. She smiled silently, like the Cheshire cat, and stood back while he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. However, a heavy Navajo blanket of woven rust red wool impeded his movement.

He remembered, vaguely, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders after Dr. Bird had shown him back into her house. Not only had it immediately warmed his shivering body, but any remaining tension in his muscles loosened. Somewhat—and almost deliriously—he remembered thinking that it felt like a hug. And not like any old hug. This was like a mom hug. The type of hug his mom gave him every time he got on a plane for work, like she’d never see him again and wanted to fill him with all the love she possessed in case something happened.

It made him feel completely and utterly at peace.

So at peace, in fact, he’d passed out.

It was unlike him. He was always on alert, always dealing with the persistent worry rippling through his head. He took pills and did some hard core meditation to find this kind of relaxation at night, unless he was so physically exhausted he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Otherwise, he suffered extreme insomnia from the need to be on guard.

“Hi,” said the woman softly, her alto voice soothing.

Chris blinked a few more times, forcing himself to pay attention to the hypnotic black eyes that stared back at him. He finally succeeded in shifting to a sitting position, rubbing his face, waiting for the blood flow to return. He yawned. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I passed out like that. How long—”

“Three hours,” she replied.

“Why did you let me sleep?”

The strange, beautiful woman shrugged. “The storm blew in off the mountain and it wasn’t a good idea for you to leave when I finished with Dodger, so I let you sleep. I’m not surprised you fell asleep—you were pretty keyed up earlier. That takes a lot of energy out of you.”

“Where is Dodger?”

On cue, the canine hobbled around the couch and limped over to him, awkwardly jumping into his lap. The bandage—purple in color—encased the paw and most of the leg. Dodger threw himself against Chris’ chest and released a long-suffering sigh. Chris hugged him close, burying his nose in the dog’s fur. He smelled terrible from the ordeal, but it still somehow smelled like Dodger, and that was all he wanted. Everything was right with the world.

“The leg will be fine, by the way,” Dr. Bird said, coming around the back of the couch and finding a seat on a lumpy armchair. She reached over and flicked on a lamp, flooding the room in light. “The staples need to come out in a few weeks, and he’ll take a course of antibiotics and have a pill for pain management.”

“So I freaked out over nothing?”

Dr. Bird shook her head. “It wasn’t nothing, and you did need to bring him in quickly. You’re just a concerned dog parent.”

“Do they teach you how to handle crazy people in veterinary school?” he asked.

She let out a whooping laugh. “I learned that particular skill on the job.”

Chris looked down at Dodger, who was half asleep. “He’s sleepy.”

“It’s the drugs. I gave him the good stuff,” Dr. Bird replied. “He’ll be a little drowsy when you give it to him, as needed. Also, you need to keep the bandage dry. Going back out to your campsite probably isn’t the best idea, especially as the nor’easter is finally here.”

“Nor’easter?” he asked.

She cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive bird. “The one they’ve been forecasting for the past three days?”

Because of course something else would have to go wrong on this ill-fated camping trip. Clearly, he and Dodger were headed home after they got done here and packed up camp. The weather had been unusually cold and rainy since they made camp, but there hadn’t been anything in the forecast when they left Boston days before this.

No… wait. Had he even looked at the forecast? If he did, he hadn’t paid attention as he hastily packed his gear and hightailed it out of town to get away from a nagging girlfriend.

“You mean to tell me you went out into the wilderness without having some way to check the weather?” she asked. “What kind of idiot does that?”

“This idiot, apparently,” he mused dryly. “Let’s just say I had other things on my mind when I left Boston. And people have been camping for eons in the middle of blizzards. This will just be a little cold rain.”

“Those people were prepared for it, though. Did you bring gear for a nor’easter?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Well, no…”

“My point?”

“True.”

“I’m not letting you go tonight,” she said. “And I don’t mean that in a creepy psycho killer type way. I don’t want you to go out there and have something happen to you or Dodger. I like Dodger too much.”

He appreciated her no-nonsense attitude. Most strangers changed their entire demeanor around him, though it wasn’t always because of his celebrity. Sometimes it was simply because they thought he was a somewhat attractive guy. He was so tired of being forced to read the situation and between the lines to understand the other person he was talking to. It was utterly exhausting. She was a breath of fresh air. What’s more, he agreed with her. He usually liked Dodger better than himself most of the time, too.

“Normally, I would object, but I would appreciate it,” he said.

“Good,” she replied and stood up from the chair. “I don’t mean to be an ungrateful host, but you need a shower. You’re a mess.”

He lifted his arms and looked down at himself. Yep, nothing had changed since he’d arrived. Except the blood and mud had dried completely and began cracking and peeling off all over her couch. “Do you have something for me to wear?”

“I can find something,” she said. “Let me show you to the bathroom.”

Chris followed her obediently after moving Dodger to another couch cushion, wondering why he was following behind her like this. He certainly liked meeting new people, though staying in a strange person’s home was something else altogether. Dr. Bird’s no-nonsense attitude or not, he’d seen enough horror movies to know it probably wasn’t wise to accept an invitation to stay in an isolated farmhouse in the middle of a nor’easter without any ability to contact the outside world. He didn’t even know where he put the keys to his truck—they were probably still in the ignition, but he couldn’t say for sure. No matter how upstanding she seemed as a veterinarian, he couldn’t ignore the fact that everything about this place was strange to him, from the cat receptionist to the hugging blanket.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she stopped in front of a door down a long hallway.

“I was just thinking that this is a set up for some sort of horror movie,” he said. “You’re not going to fatten me up and eat me, are you?”

She threw her head back in laughter, but even with the mirth, he sensed a bit of tension in the tone of it. “I’m a terrible cook. So unless you can be fattened up with a frozen pizza, you’re in the clear.”

“Frozen pizza?” he asked.

“Pepperoni,” she said. “And a beer?”

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment, and his rumbling belly let them both know that. “Sounds amazing.”

“Good. Now, the towels are in the cupboard in the bathroom,” she explained. “Use any of the soaps. I’ll find some clothes and leave them out here by the door while I pull dinner together.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bird,” he said.

She grinned. “It’s Nascha.”

Nascha… Nay-shaw. He repeated the name a few times in his head; he’d never heard a name like it. Somehow, though, it fit her. Strange and unique, like everything else he’d encountered.

“You can lock the door if you’re worried about me turning into Norman Bates,” she teased, nodding at the door and turning on her heels to head the other direction.

“I am locking it!” He called back, “But not because I think you’re going to murder me.”

Nascha laughed. “I’m not going to jump your bones, either. You’re safe.”

He couldn’t help but wonder, as he shut the door and flipped the lock, if he was safe. But, surprisingly, the anxiety that would usually be clawing its way out, stayed locked in its cage.

----

Nascha puttered around the kitchen, wondering what in the actual hell she was doing with a strange guy in her house. And not just any strange guy. A strange guy who was a very real temptation in so many ways. She could so easily reach out and take what she wanted from him. The energy and vitality coming off him was a beacon—a strong magnet—and resisting its pull was exhausting. It was too easy to slip; she barely held on during her daily clinic appointments with her clients. Spending a whole night alone with someone under her roof? That was another story entirely.

It wasn’t like she could just run off to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting when she felt the urge to consume. They didn’t have SEA—soul eater’s anonymous—even though she wasn’t technically one of those, anyway. The old medicine woman who took her in as an orphan was the closest thing she had to a sponsor, and she had long since departed her earthly existence. Since then, she’d hidden out here in the woods and made friends with the local community of the magically-minded, but their magic operated differently than hers.

And when someone must kill humans to survive, it tends to make that someone an outcast.

The other magical folk in this town were all perfectly capable of horrible outcomes in their own practices, but none of them were forced to take human lives just to live their own. Even though they accepted her into the community, they still regarded her with suspicion. There were no open arms here. Going to one of them for help would yield nothing but a cold shoulder.

Sometimes she wondered if staying on the reservation wouldn’t have been the better idea in the long run; at least there, she was an accepted part of the tribe. A feared part, sure, but still a part of it. And there were others like her.

Nascha, the bear and his cub are here. I heard them arguing outside.

Nascha startled at the intrusion to her thoughts, popping her head up to look at Ash. The cat sat on the kitchen counter in front of her, flicking her fluffy tail in agitation. Nascha patted her pockets for her cell phone, wondering why the motion sensor hadn’t detected the new visitors, but it wasn’t on her.

See! Called the Southern-drawling dog from his spot on the couch on the other side of the large great room. There was a bear!

She certainly did not need a visit from this bear, either. Not with her houseguest. The houseguest for whom she had not yet found clean clothes because she’d been so caught up stressing about him.

Her front door burst open with a force too great for the wind. In stomped a boy of thirteen, dark shaggy hair hanging in his eyes and a curled, angry lip. The boy threw his backpack on the floor with a flourish that sent it skidding to a halt across the room against a wall. He kicked off his Vans and promptly went to the couches in front of the television. Once there, he threw himself down next to Dodger with an overly dramatic flop of teenage angst.

Then he said, “Alexa, turn television on.”

The television glowed to life.

“Nice to see you, too, Adam,” Nascha called out to him as she stepped from the kitchen into the living room, hands on her hips. “Where’s your dad?”

Adam didn’t bother to look at her. “Alexa, find Twitch.”

“Adam!” growled the new male voice at the front door. “Turn the damn television off.”

Adam ignored his father. Said father was a giant of six-foot-five and a wall of solid muscle with a mean look on his face and a gun on his hip; such a visage was nothing in the face of Adam’s bad attitude.

Adam’s father walked over to the television and pulled the electrical cord from the wall. Adam let out the most epic groan and rolled his eyes. He sounded like Gollum freaking out over Sam Gamgee’s cooking. “Just let me watch TV!”

“No. You need to do your Algebra homework!”

“When am I ever going to need that bullshit, anyway?!” Adam yelled.

Adam’s father took a step forward, his giant paws curling into fists. His square jaw tightened and a muscle just under the jagged scar by his left eye jumped. “You will do your homework, or so help me, you won’t see the light of day until you turn forty.”

Dodger, who had been sitting silently on the couch, ungracefully stood and walked the short distance over to the teenager and laid across Adam’s lap, as though to protect him. Then Dodger said, Aren’t you gonna do somethin’, Doc?

Nascha sighed heavily. She hated stepping between these two in family arguments. It wasn’t her place, no matter how much both men tried to insert her into their lives. But it needed to be done and Erik needed to leave.

“Alright, you two,” she said, finally. “You both need to calm down.”

“He started it!” Adam exclaimed.

Nascha shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What’s going on, Erik?” she asked the father, whose face had turned purple with rage.

“The storm,” Erik grunted, waving his arm toward the open front door. “I have to go set up the command center because our new recruits can’t handle it, apparently.”

“Okay…”

She let the word fade as though she expected him to elaborate about how that involved her, but she knew what he meant. Since she’d moved into town, Erik had been the most welcoming and accepting of her peculiar magic. Some might even call him a friend, insomuch that he came around every so often to say hello, brought her venison steaks from his latest hunting trip, or helped her clean out the rain gutters. Sometimes he brought in injured wildlife he encountered, though all the park rangers and the other emergency services in the area usually did. Erik, however, stuck around for more than she was ever willing to give him, and it evolved into her occasionally being a place where he could leave Adam with an unpaid babysitter. She didn’t mind it, much. Adam was a fun kid when not in the throes of hormones.

What Nascha didn’t like about the whole situation was Adam’s mother—the feeling was mutual between both women—and Erik’s complete disregard for that fact. Or that, just maybe, she wasn’t able to be an emergency mom when Erik’s ex-wife was too busy to take care of their son. Nascha did not relish facing the wrath of Brenna when she found out that Adam had spent another night at her house.

“He needs to do his homework and then he needs to go to bed,” Erik replied. “Will you please see that this happ—who the fuck is he?”

Nascha frowned. Behind her, a rather… damp… man stood in the hallway with a towel wrapped around his trim hips. For a minute, her brain short-circuited as her eyes traveled down the sculpted muscle of his torso to the cut of his hips that disappeared into the towel. She knew he was built; all she had to do was look at him to understand that. She had not expected this, or the fact that her feminine interest would be so strong.

“It’s a long story,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said. “You didn’t leave the clothes out for me and…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nascha said to Chris, stepping away from Erik toward her guest.

Erik grumbled. “Nascha?”

“Just give me a minute!” It came out more testy than she had hoped; Erik was the last person she wanted angry at her, but in her defense, she was a little stressed and he’d just have to deal with it.

She scooted by Chris at the entrance to the hall, careful not to touch him, but would have been lying if she said she hadn’t readily inhaled the scent of cedarwood and sage that smelled heavenly on his clean skin. “I’ll bring you the clothes, you can wait in the bathroom.”

Chris nodded his head and turned to head down the same narrow hallway. He did so carelessly, his naked torso accidentally grazing her uncovered arm. Every hair on her body rose to attention, gooseflesh prickling her skin. The unforgiving sexual awareness tightened her breasts and her nipples pebbled into hard sensitive peaks against her bra.

This was the very last thing she needed.

She glanced to her side, seeing if he had any reaction, but he was already stepping back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. “Get your head on right, Nascha,” she muttered to herself. Focus. She needed to focus.

Inside one of her spare bedrooms was a trunk of old things she kept from the previous owner of the house; when the old doctor had asked her for her help and given her the house in repayment for it, he did so because he had no relationships with his family. Still, though, she had packed his clothes and personal belongings into some boxes and kept them in storage should someone show up one day.

It had been five years. No one had shown up.

Every time she thought about it, it made her morose. What was the point of suffering in this life if you didn’t have someone there at the end to mourn? Not that she’d ever have anyone like that, considering how her life had turned out, but it was still a shame for humans to not have a legacy.

She found an old cable knit sweater and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring at the waist that still smelled reasonably fresh in the depths of the third box she hastily dug through. Perfect for a few hours, at least, while she threw his other clothes in the wash.

The torn flannel was going in the trash, though.

When she emerged, she heard Erik and Adam arguing again. It was time for Erik to go. Adam usually always did what she asked, but that was because she had patience. True to Erik’s ursine nature, he was quick to anger and once there, it took him ages to calm down.

“Chris?” she asked when she neared the bathroom door. He thrust an arm out through a barely opened door. She handed over the garments and walked back to the living room.

“Adam,” she said softly, “did you have dinner?”

“No,” he replied.

She nodded. “Go put the oven on to 425, please.”

“Nae...” he moaned.

“Go!” She pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “And you,” she turned to Erik, “outside.”

She thought for a minute that Erik wasn’t going to comply, however, after a few seconds of hesitation, he followed her out onto the front porch.

When the door was shut, she turned to Erik. “I thought we talked about this, Erik! You have to call me first to see if it’s alright.”

“I did call!” he snarled. “You weren’t answering your cell.”

“I was a little busy,” she said.

“Clearly.”

Nascha scoffed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I didn’t just see a naked guy walk out of the bathroom?” One of Erik’s dark eyebrows rose in challenge. This brow had one of the other prominent and jagged scars that adorned his otherwise handsome face. He always looked menacing when it lifted.

“He came in with an emergency. His dog fell in the river,” she said. “He went after the dog, he was covered in blood, and I told him to take a shower. And I’m forcing him to stay here tonight instead of going back to his campsite because of the storm.”

Erik regarded her for a silent moment that stretched too far to be entirely comfortable. “What campsite?”

“I don’t know, the dog didn’t say. But he swears there was a bear out there,” she said. “Were you out patrolling this afternoon?”

His nonreply was enough of an answer.

“Well, I guess I owe Dodger an apology.” There certainly may have been one there in the trees, but it still wasn’t the thing that had ultimately caused Dodger’s injury.

“You need to be careful, Nascha,” Erik said. “You don’t know this guy. He could be bad news.”

Nascha snorted and shook her head. “Good thing I can protect myself.”

The front door burst open again, this time with Adam rushing out and shutting the door behind him. He was dancing around wildly to get her attention, like he was about to burst from pent up energy. “Nascha! Nascha, Nascha, Nascha…”

“What is it now, Adam?” she asked.

“The dude!”

“What dude?”

Adam gesticulated toward the door and inside the house. “That dude.”

“What did he do?” Erik growled, his hand on his gun holster in a millisecond, ready to take matters into his own hands. Never mind that he could rip any man limb from limb with little effort and bare hands.

“He didn’t do anything!” Adam said breathlessly. “Nascha, do you know who that is?”

Nascha pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. He had seemed familiar to her, but other than that—

He got close to her, leaning in to hiss-whisper, “That’s Chris Evans!”

“Who?” she asked. The name didn’t particularly ring a bell, but she supposed he was someone noteworthy out in the real world. Probably a Youtube gamer, if Adam knew him.

He was louder and exasperated. “Chris Evans!”

When that still didn’t elicit a reaction from her, he groaned and shoved his hands in his hair. This was clearly stressing him out. “What am I doing with all you old people?! I swear to god… you are useless!”

“Who is he?” Nascha asked calmly. She hadn’t realized that Erik had gone silent, and that the other man in question was now standing in the doorway; he was fresh, clean, and—this time—fully clothed. Pity, that.

With his hair slicked back, still damp from a shower, and really taking a good look at him, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Well, shit.

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