Chapter Text
Eyes peered through the leaves of the thick park bush as the flow of people increased from the trickle it had been all morning to a steady stream. It was around lunch time and the middle of summer, so there was a mix of students off on break finally waking up on their summer sleep schedules, and adults on their lunch breaks getting a breath of fresh air.
It was the perfect opportunity, though the raccoon in the bush had to struggle against his very nocturnal form’s desire to curl up in a nice dark den and sleep the day away. No, now was not the time for sleep. Now was the time for crime.
His eyes studied the park goers through the branches. Some of them he recognized from the last couple of weeks he’d been living in the park and some he did not, but he still could get a pretty good read off of most at least well enough to know which to keep away from.
He could feel the rhythm of life in the park flowing around him. Good and bad. Hot and cold. Holes in the landscape to slip into.
Okay.
Making absolute sure he was completely hidden, he laid flat on the ground and braced himself. His fur was the first to change, switching texture and length if not color and was quickly followed by his body starting to grow larger. He kept the four legs and tail, but his paws became less flexible, the ‘fingers’ shortening and the spaces between them getting smaller. The tail became less fluffy and lost its rings. His jaw stretched and his face filled out. His various markings disappeared into a sea of golden brown fur.
He felt sick as soon as the shift completed. His raccoon form was the only animal whose skin felt somewhat comfortable anymore, but he couldn’t always be one. He hated being a dog, but he knew a cute golden retriever puppy would fare much better in the begging game than a raccoon.
After a quick moment to gather his resolve, he belly crawled out of the bush he’d been using for cover and shook as many leaves as he could out of his fur before trotting off towards the more populated area of the park.
Most shifters weren’t perfect. You could usually tell the difference between an actual animal and someone indulging in their animal form. Features always carried over just a little bit. Most of the time, you could tell what animal a hybrid was even in their most human form and likewise, you could tell they were human in their most animal form. The in between shifts were even more obvious.
Tommy was different. Tommy was a bit more malleable than most people when it came to changing shape. Besides, he’d had a lot of time and… incentive to perfect his shifts. This perfection didn’t just come down to the physical aspects of his shifts either. His performances were also flawless. He could sit, he could shake, he could play dead, and he could pretend to not understand the more complex sentences coming out of people’s mouths. To everyone around him, he was just a well-trained stray.
It was uncomfortably close to the truth.
He managed to beg the last bite of a hotdog off of an owl hybrid in a suit and a couple of cat like hybrid siblings tossed him some of their goldfish when he did tricks for them. However, when he approached a coyote hybrid hoping for some sandwich crusts, he was snapped at rather viciously. Some lady saw this and scolded the man, cooing over Tommy and petting him sympathetically. The pets made it feel like spiders were crawling under Tommy’s skin.
He decided to stop being a dog for the day.
His stomach still clenched in hunger and his skin still crawled as he slumped back off to the bush he’d been in earlier. He didn’t even really want to be a raccoon right now, but he still shifted back into one and climbed a tree to look over the park. His hair still stood on edge as his skin shuddered every so often in discontent. He didn’t want paws right now or fur all over his body. He wanted… He wanted…
That.
The figures he’d spotted were normal fixtures in the park. Bird hybrids tended to be fond of this park and these two must live nearby because they seemed to be here every day. This city park had a nice little area sectioned off specifically for bird hybrids to fly in. Tommy himself had flown around in it once or twice with a few different types of wings, but he did not experience the same itch that the actual birds did.
The two were clearly family of some sort though they were not the same type of bird hybrid. The older one was obviously a crow. He’d typically take a couple of laps around the areal part of the park but then would spend the rest of his time chattering to some actual crows on one of the benches. Tommy had shifted into one to get closer once and was rewarded with a warm voice speaking at him and some seeds.
The younger one’s species Tommy could not identify other than obviously not a crow. He usually had more energy to put towards flying than his… Brother? Dad? He’d always disappear for a long time into the thicker brush and Tommy had never seen him fully shifted.
Tommy wasn’t sure what their relationship was exactly, but they were clearly close. The older would always fuss over the younger before and after his flights and on the rare breaks the younger chose to take. The younger’s weird wings were always well cared for, but the older would still pass a hand over them to fix any small issues that presented themselves before fixing his windblown hair. Then, the younger would be hugged softly before leaving again.
It made Tommy’s skin prickle with envy. He wanted hugs and soft touches that weren’t… that weren’t people petting some dumb pitiful animal. More than that, he wanted human fingers and toes for himself. He wanted to walk around on two legs. He wanted to talk to someone.
It was a very, very dangerous thought for him to have.
But.
But, the younger one ran off towards the flying zone after his hug and Tommy could tell by the bounce in his step that he had a lot of energy to burn today. He’d probably not be taking a break. The older one, on the other hand, seemed more tired than usual and sat down instead of going for a flight first.
…
It was bad. Tommy knew that. It was really, really bad. He wanted it though. He wanted it so much.
He waited for about 20 minutes. He told himself he was trying to talk himself out of it, but really he was just waiting for a reasonable amount of time to pass, so the older man would not question anything. Tommy had been watching the two of them closely for the past few weeks and he knew how the younger one moved and acted. More importantly, he knew what he looked like. He hid away within the trees at the edge of the flying area and carefully shifted, paying close attention to every single detail.
The first thing Tommy thought when he stood up was, shit, this bitch is tall. Tommy wasn’t used to human legs in general, let alone dumb wobbly ones like this or ones that had to support the weight of wings. He took a moment to orient himself and then brushed himself off the best he could. Luckily, the new wings he’d shifted looked as well cared for as the young boys and his powers had managed to change his own shirt and pants into an approximation of what he’d been wearing.
He took a calming breath, shoved down his guilt, and got into character. He ran out of the wooded area with a bright smile on his face, directly towards the older hybrid. The older man saw him coming and smiled as he approached. Tommy stumbled to a stop near the bench, and the man was already reaching for him.
“Hey Will,” the man said, a hand settling on his cheek. The touch burned across his skin, but he still leaned into it. “How’s your flight going?”
“Good,” Tommy said, not wanting to say much more. He hadn’t heard them talk as much as he’d seen them move.
“Good,” the man replied. His hand brushed across the wings, sending an odd sensation to Tommy’s brain since it wasn’t used to having wings let alone someone touching them. It was still so much better than petting though even if it functionally was the same motion. It was just so soft and kind, but not condescending or demeaning. It felt like the man was dusting away more than just dirt. The sensation that had been under his skin since the lady pet him as a dog earlier slowly faded away. The man finished checking out the wings and then patted at Tommy’s head, but not like one would a dog, like one would a person and Tommy wanted to cry. “Going back out?” he asked once he’d decided Tommy’s (but not Tommy’s) hair was in place.
“Yeah,” Tommy said thickly even though he wanted to say no and bask in this a little longer. He could never do this again. He shouldn’t have done it now, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it when his hand was still warm in Tommy’s hair.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you in a bit,” and then, Tommy was being hugged. His grip was the most gentle and caring thing Tommy had felt in a long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever been hugged like that before. It felt like he was shattering and being put back together again and again in his arms.
It was over way too soon, the man drawing back. Tommy forced himself to turn away even though he wanted to cling and cry. Tommy didn’t even deserve that stolen hug let alone anything more. He bolted back to the woods, hoping the man saw only his energetic companion and nothing of the emotionally wrecked Tommy.
There was relief this time in his raccoon form as he shifted away his fingers and scaled a tree to hide away. He’d gotten away with it.
There was no way he was going back to the park as a dog today, not when his skin finally felt settled if a bit cold and achy for once. Maybe he could find thrown away food as a raccoon later in the evening once most people, especially the two bird hybrids, were gone for the day.
He must be a very, very bad person, Tommy thought as he curled up in a little nook of the tree. He must be because he didn’t regret what he’d just done.