Spideypool Dragon AU

not-close-to-straight:

Masterpost and Additional Posts HERE

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“So which is it.” Peter dumped a pile of firewood close to his tent and squinted up at the dragon-shifter. “Were you scared into being permanently shifted, or did something bad and got stuck?” 

Wade’s golden eyes narrowed at him, but Peter didn’t look away. 

In the month since Wade had rescued him from the waterfall, Peter had spent almost every day on the mountain, only coming back to the village for more supplies. May was worried about him, his friends were starting to talk about how weird he had gotten– disappearing for days at a time, spacing out of conversations, acting dodgy when asked where he was going. 

But Peter couldn’t stay away. 

He was fascinated by the dragon. Fascinated and a little terrified and he had been building up his courage for the past two weeks to finally ask this question because Wade’s answer could change everything.

“It has to be one of those things.” he started stacking wood in the fire pit, breaking pieces of kindling to go on top. “My Aunt says there are only two reasons why a shifter stays force shifted and I need to know if you’re a weenie-puss who saw a rabbit and shifted so you could fly away or if you– you know.” he swallowed uncomfortably. “Gave in to your dragon side and killed someone?” 

Did you just call me a weenie-puss?

“I said what I said.” Peter dusted off his hands and looked around for his flint. “So which is it? You got scared or you killed someone?” 

Both of those things. The dragon said– thought?– Peter wasn’t exactly sure what to call it. I did both of those things. Have you seen a rabbit? Terrifying. Noting should jump that fast or be that fluffy. 

“Okay.” An awkward laugh. “I have never seen a rabbit and thought they were terrifying and I’m more concerned about you killing someone.” 

Not someone. The dragon crouched and eyeballed the pile of kindling in the fire pit. I killed nine men and then shifted and killed a few dozen more. 

His mouth opened wide, a puff of smoke igniting into a column of flame, exploding the kindling and setting the logs below blazing. 

“A few–few dozen more?” Peter stammered, watching the fire with more trepidation than awe. “Wh–why?” 

They killed my wife. Wade’s gaze never flickered. She was innocent and they killed her. We were going to start a family together and they took her from me. So I killed as many as I could and when they started to overwhelm me, I shifted and killed the rest.

“I–you–um–”

I’d do it again too. The dragons claws dug into the earth. I don’t care about being stuck in my dragon form. I wouldn’t want to be human without her. 

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“So. The scars.” Peter tore into his–ick– rabbit. He was almost positive that Wade had given him a dragon-style grin as he deposited a rabbit next to the campfire for Peter to clean. “Are they from when you attacked? Or did that happen later?” 

Later. A growl rumbled from the shifter. When I realized I couldn’t shift down, I went for the battlefield, thought I would kill as many from the other side as I could, and the archers tried to bring me down. It didn’t work, but it sure hurt like hell. 

“And you can’t heal?” 

I am as healed as I’ll ever be, I guess. 

“Have you tried to shift back at all? After you stopped–stopped grieving?” 

I don’t know if I’ve stopped grieving yet.