Both Alike in Dignity

A/N: It has been a hellish few days. I have been decorating, and when I moved the snapping turtle tank, it got a crack and I had to move poor Poppet (the turtle) into the bath. Also there was no internet in this house until earlier this afternoon. I busted my ass to get this edited for you guys, but the result is that I edited it when I was tired and I didn't get to go over it twice like I normally would, so apologies if the quality dips a little. Thanks for the reviews and the support. If you leave a review, Jasper will lick ice cream from Sebastian's naked body.

Word Count (overall): 5244
Word Count (this chapter): 1902
Updates: Mondays and Thursdays

Chapter Three


Softness. Waves swelled above him, the surface turbulent. Sebastian was under deep, where it was dark but strangely warm. Every sense was muffled, like a great weight was pressing down on him. All he could hear was the strong thud of his heartbeat. He had the keen sense that he was forgetting something. Something important. He stared up. The tiniest glimmer of sunlight penetrated through the murky ocean depths. Sebastian shifted. Pain shot through him, a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin, jolting him awake.

Everything came back in a flood of pain. Werewolves. Left for dead. Unconscious. Alone. Sebastian shifted again, wincing hard as the movement lanced through him. He turned his head, peering around the room. His room. Something wasn't right.

“You're awake.”

Sebastian nearly jumped out of his skin. He groaned sharply. Then, ignoring the pain, he sat up and stared at the man sitting on one of his chairs. Dark hair. Blue-grey eyes. Sebastian jolted with recognition. He hissed through his teeth. Then, he did a quick mental check of his injuries – deeply bruised, bad muscle damage, but nothing too bad. Not now. Good.

“So it would seem,” Sebastian said, eyeing the man. No, wolf. One of them. Had known them. Sebastian swallowed hard and averted his eyes. It had to be a trick, some way to get his confidence in order to destroy him. Finish the job. Even though he knew it was stupid, he couldn't shake the feeling, Logic didn't help; he knew that it would have been easy to snap his neck when he had been asleep, vulnerable. The knowledge didn't calm his racing heart any.

Flicking his dark eyes back up to the man, Sebastian just stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, he did what he did best: he ignored the man. Gingerly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just that movement was enough to make him grit his teeth. Every muscle was stiff and aching. A hot shower would help, but he didn't know if he could do that with an intruder in his flat. Even if that intruder had apparently saved his life.

Sebastian shuffled over to the mirror. The bruising was extensive, hideous, and immediately obvious on his ashen skin. He poked at an especially nasty bruise and hissed. His face was swollen, so bruised and crusted with blood that he could barely recognise himself. He was still wearing the stained, filthy pants from last night, but no shirt. The man must have taken the shirt off him. Sebastian immediately wanted a bath.

All through his self-examination, he could feel the eyes on the back of his neck. The skin there tingled, tiny hairs prickling to attention. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold back. He didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of a reaction, of knowing that he was getting to him.

“You healed up fast,” the man commented.

Sebastian internally celebrated the small victory of not having spoken first. He didn't turn and look at the man.

“Fed just before,” he explained. “Without it, wouldn't have had the strength.” It had been lucky. He always had been lucky.

“Well, that would explain it,” the man said.

Sebastian caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but he still refused to turn. Maybe if he just made it clear that the man's presence was unwelcome, he'd go away. Except this time, the heavy silence granted on him. He broke.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be prowling around with your 'pack'?” he snapped out. Didn't come out as witty and aloof as he'd intended, but he was too tired and in too much pain to give a shit about how he was being perceived. He examined the man in the mirror. There was something wild about him, untamed, but he sat perfectly still. Calm. In control. For a second, Sebastian envied him.

“I probably should be,” the man answered. His voice was low, but smooth. Sebastian remembered the voice. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and studying Sebastian's back intensely. “We're not so different,” he said. “We deal with the same shit. The secrecy. Our lives being turned totally upside down at some point, usually without our consent. They were going to kill you, and they don't know you. They hate what you are, not who you are. They don't know.” He shrugged.

Sebastian stared at him in the mirror. The man seemed too big for the chair he was sitting in, tall and muscular, broad-shouldered. “And you do?” he asked.

The man laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to resonate through the room. “No,” he said. “But I couldn't stand by and watch something be destroyed just because someone doesn't understand it. That would be... wrong. I can still tell the difference between right and wrong, even if I'm about as human as you are.”

It was hard to believe that was all it was. A simple, genuine act of morality. One that Sebastian probably wouldn't have offered had the situation been reversed. “How did you know to bring me here? Where I live?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. The man made eye contact with him in the mirror, and it seemed silly not to just turn around and look at him, but Sebastian just couldn't do it.

“Relax. I just followed your scent. Good sense of smell,” the man answered, his eyes fixed on Sebastian. “Which means the others can, too.” A warning.

The idea of playing hide and seek with a pack of wolves in his current state made Sebastian groan. He liked his apartment. His things. The idea that they would come back and finish the job made his stomach churn. He wanted to throw up. At least it took his mind away from the hunger gnawing at him, intense and insistent. A mix of blood loss, healing and the fact he hadn't kept much down him.

“Well, I'm alive,” Sebastian said. “You've paid your moral depth to society. You can leave, now.” Maybe he should have been more grateful, but he just wanted the man gone. He wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to sleep.

“Not that easy,” the man said. “I figure we have a few hours until Blaine convinces the rest of the pack that I can't be trusted and they come after you. Maybe until sunrise, if we're lucky.” He paused, then stood, approaching slowly. Every step was measured and careful, like someone approaching a skittish horse. “Jasper.”

A few hours. He needed days to heal, recover, feed. A few fucking hours was not enough. The movement caught his eyes, and he cringed as Jasper moved closer. He immediately stiffened up, straightening his spine and holding his ground. It was just one werewolf. He could take one. There was nothing to be afraid of. No need to act like a beaten child.

“Huh?” Sebastian asked, his mind on a million other things.

“Jasper. My name,” the man said, grinning at him, meeting his eyes.

“Oh,” Sebastian said. He studied Jasper in the mirror, scanning him quickly. The stubble was already thicker. Fucking werewolves and their hair. It was disgusting.

“And this would be where you tell me your name,” Jasper prompted, shifting a step closer, his whole body moving and shifting. Despite the size of him, Jasper was impressively graceful.

Sebastian hesitated. He didn't want to give the man his name. Jasper was a stranger to him. A trespasser. A saviour. Sebastian bit his tongue, then turned to face the other male. Jasper was uncomfortably close. Sebastian stepped neatly around him, retreating to the other side of the room under the guise of looking for a shirt. He needed to cover himself.

“Sebastian,” he said, after he had pulled a shirt on and buttoned it up painstakingly. Now that he was fully clothed again, he felt better. Even if he was still stuck in the pants. He brushed his blood-clotted hair from his face and grimaced.

“Thank you,” Jasper said, leaning against the wall. He stared at Sebastian. Seemed stupid to cover up when the other would just be getting a shower again, but he could understand the sentiment.

Sebastian turned and looked at Jasper again. “What will they do to you?” he asked. Packs. They were supposed to be united. Small squabbles. Nothing like this.

“I don't know,” Jasper answered, meeting Sebastian's eyes, light grey meeting dark brown. “It depends on how convincing they were. They'll probably exile me. Maybe kill me.” Jasper just said it like it was nothing. A fact of life.

“You're an idiot,” Sebastian said, snapping a drawer shut loudly, a new pair of pants draped over his arm. “Why would you do that? They're your family.” Or they were supposed to be, as far as he could make out. Through thick and thin.

“I told you,” Jasper said. “It wasn't right. I couldn't stand back and let it happen. Not-” He cut himself off sharply, biting down on his tongue hard enough that he tasted metal. “Look, it worked out okay for you, didn't it? So why don't you shut up before I decide to go ahead and finish the job they started.”

Sebastian's eyes flashed up to Jasper's face, then away. He swallowed hard. “You couldn't,” he said. “The only reason... there were too many. You couldn't win alone. Wasn't fucking fair, the way they jumped me.”

Jasper snorted. “I'd like to see you try fighting back in your state,” he said, shaking his head. He paused, then eyed Sebastian. “We're pack hunters. You know that.”

Sebastian stared at the other man. He shifted uneasily, wanting to put more than a roomful of space between them. Jasper was right. There was no way he could fight like this, and the reminder made him feel anxious, trapped. He couldn't leave, not like this. He needed to clean up, but the idea of bathing with this man on the other side of the door made him frown.

After a short while, he made his decision. The need to shower outweighed how he felt about Jasper being in the apartment whilst he did it.

“Look, I need to shower,” Sebastian said. “I get that I need to leave, after and everything. I'm fine. I expect you to be gone by the time I finish.”

Jasper looked at Sebastian for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, he nodded. “I'll leave when you do,” he compromised. “Then we'll go our separate ways.”

“Fine,” Sebastian said. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He was in no state to force Jasper out of the apartment. He headed for the bathroom. The lock slid closed audibly behind him. Like it could keep a werewolf out. It still made Sebastian feel a little better.

Jasper rolled his eyes and collapsed back down into the chair by the open window. He sprawled out lazily, scenting the air for his pack, alert to the danger that could follow them at any moment.