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He found himself doing it every time he came back to the room. The key would fit the slot, the lock turning with the soft click, and the handle turning to let loose the door, it was then that the smell would hit him. As he stepped inside, he'd take a deep breath, taking in the smell - the scent of the dorm room; hints of bacon, odor of fur, some tints of spice, and the crisp inhale of vanilla.

The demon would take in the smell of the bacon - the monster boil's favorite food that he seemed to always have on stock regardless of how much of it they had gone through the day before and it was always on the pan in the morning. It was faint now, still lingering after the dishes were done with and put away, the smell was enough to bring hunger to the surface, especially after class or a session at the gym, enough to lure him to the kitchen and open the fridge. It was mouthwatering if the meat was actually present. He found himself sheltered considering the first time he ever had it was in a stint of depression and self-loathing at the academy and not at Cocytus Manor where he had access to specific foods. This? This breakfast meat? This meat of the euphoric kind? He would have traded the steaks he had regularly to have this from time to time. Not entirely true, maybe the halibut.

As Uru toed off his shoes, he would let his hands glide over the sea of fur that engulfed his ankles with yips and barks, tails wagging and wide eyes looking up with excitement and expectancy. The room was full of minipets, he expected no less after his first time here that the 'pack' would diminish - no, it grew. Each day, they would be at the door, waiting for the key came in, the lock turned, and the boils returned. Each day, they would crawl into their bed just before they slept. Each day, they would be shooed from the kitchen because of their insistent begging of their owner for food, in which, he would reply by filling their bowl with their own. Each day, he would come to find them all scattered around the room; among the couch, around the bed, roaming the kitchen, or in their closet where they found themselves sanctuary and offered their owner privacy from their fluff. Ontop of them, there was the Scruffle and the Soul Crusher and the Scareon that lounged around the room too. The odor was strong, but he expected nothing less from the owner.

The spice, it was difficult to put his finger on it. It was a combination of things that he could recollect as he made his way further into the room. There was the monster boil's tea, herbal and soothing. There was the way the boil made food that just filled the space with an aroma that made his wolf linger around the kitchen. There was the way that they kept the space clean and the method had a hint of a spice to it, sometimes it was fresh, other times it was spicy, other times it was unbearably strong that he secretly diluted the cleaner to tolerate it. There were downsides to his ability to smell.

Uru made his way into the closet as he stripped off his shirt, placing it into the hamper as he would normally. The hamper was almost full, though, he'd do the laundry at a later time. But even then, they had their own smell that lingered in the room; it wasn't just his sweat - which, he was sorry for and did his best to cover it as he could, it also smelled oaky. That was the only word he could coin for it; oaky. His clothes often had the smell of the Weeping Forest; the bark, the leaves, the brush, the smell of nature on it because that was where he ran most mornings. He could ignore the smell of sweat - the stress, the excitement, the exhaustion, and concentration solely on the smell of the woods that clung to him as he made his way back here. The owner wasn't home, so he had no issue stripping entirely and grabbing one of the towels that he insisted on keeping in the closet. Wrapping it around his waist, he moved to the bathroom. Oddly enough, it held no real scent that differentiated from the rest of the dorm room. Sure there was the lingering scent of mint of their toothpaste, or the aroma of their shampoo and conditioner. Though he didn't really pay any mind to it as he turned on the water and the room was steamed out.

With a sigh of relief, the demon flopped down onto his side of the bed. His scent. His scent was thickest here. The crisp smell like an intake of cold air that chilled the lung, the woody oak that clung to his nature runs, and the smell of vanilla. He attributed both due to his origins and the Fang Snare that he burned regularly when he covered up smells, or just to calm down - something to focus on. This was his side of the bed. Even though the monster insisted that he was free to come and go as he pleased, it was still the boil's place and that he was slowly encroaching - starting with his bed space. The closet was getting there. Rolling onto his back, he turned to look onto the boil's side of the bed. An inhale was all he needed to find that scent. It was strong, it was all over the dorm room that, if he wasn't looking for it or knew of it, he'd had assumed it was just the natural smell of the place. No, it was the boil's scent - a smokey smell that was a mixing pot of everything else; bacon, fur, spice, sandlewood, and sulfur.

It was strange, he was noticing that the monster had a certain rhythm to his step, the way his heart sounded. He didn't look up at the door whenever just any footsteps crossed the doorway. It was strange enough that he was able to notice that the pack's owner was almost to the door before they swarmed it. He didn't move to greet him, he normally stayed where he was, gave an affirmative glance; tight lip, a slight nod with his brows up, before going back to what he was doing. He should initiate conversation such as "How'd the day go?" or "What's the matter?" but he tended to sit silently before the talk of food came up or the boil struck up a conversation.


Uru huffed, pushing air through his nose as he rolled onto his side, the bed giving way under his bulk. There was a scent here that was not as strong as anywhere else; not the bed, not the closet, not the bathroom, not the kitchen or the doorway, but right here. This pillow. It was taken from the monster and he had also commandeered it, but the scent was unique among the others. With another in-and-out, the demon closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

He found himself doing this every time he returned to the room.

He should not be as curious as he was, he was actually more concerned than curious. As of late, he found himself questioning his intentions, his behaviors, finding them unexplained and, at times, involuntary. Yet he did not question why he did them but accepted that he had. He wasn't able to wrack his brain enough to find answers and the only place he can find answers was one of the places he could find solace in losing himself in - the library. The library was on the far end of campus, a few strides further than his dorm because of the position of his new place of temporary residency. He was couch surfing except it was a bed and not a couch he was crashing on. The demon bounded up the steps with determination, skipping up two at a time before pushing the doors open into the atrium. He did not exchange glances with anyone else; student, professor, staff, or minipets for that matter. He moved through the library with direction, with purpose of where he was going. He didn't need to look at the aisle of books that he was passing to know that he had passed the section on minipets and pet care. The numbers that hung overhead indicated the sections he was in, yet he did not particularly care to look up to know where he was, he knew where he was going. The building was mapped like the back of his hand. It was in a section that many students found themselves in; particularly boils, that he was heading toward at the back. He didn't like the idea that he knew the section and where it was, in fact, he had stumbled upon it while he was perusing looking for a new book to read for pleasure. Turning the corner, he came to the shelf, his eyes looking up at the top most corner. Sunburst eyes in the azure sky glanced at the tomes, reading their spines top to bottom. With a tentative hand, he reached up and pulled one down, backing up to the wall. Leaning against it, he opened it up.

He could already tell he was going to be uncomfortable about it, that was for certain. It wasn't exactly a subject matter that he was familiar with, but due to recent discussions, it was about time he looked into it.

How to be a Good Partner

Jeez, even the name was lame, it doesn't even try to mask what it was about. Flipping the pages past the dedication and the index, he came to the first of the few chapters.

Be a Sleuth - Notice body language, casual touching or brushing against. Playful behavior.

Does playful jabs on the shoulder and throwing sock balls at his face count? He could chalk up them cooking together, but it was a relatively small kitchen, touching was bound to happen when you had to dance around one another.

Test the Waters - Ask questions, be aware of your partner (stupid phrase), make them comfortable.

If walking around in boxers and a tank top or sweats and topless didn't raise any problems, then they were certainly comfortable with one another. Granted, it took him a while to get to point that he began treating the place like his own room since the boil was shameless.

Find Common Ground

Uru thought about that too, going back to tapping his fingers against the face of the book.
1. They loved minipets.
2. They cared about their physique and their health.
3. They both were hellhounds.
4. They both cook.
5. They both refuse to get into the shower unless the temperature was right.
6. They both cannot stand one another for long periods of time.
7. They both get anxious when they are apart for long periods of time. At least he did...
8. They were both shameless or very very comfortable with their bodies.
9 They were....

Uru paused as he looked down at the book, as if through it, to his nineth finger. What else did they share in common?... The boil knew more about him than he did about the boil. That-that was a problem.

Communication

Their communication was fine, in his opinion, for the most part. They would say 'hi' and 'what are you up to' and 'what's for dinner'. But then there are times where the boil would insult him for how he does the laundry; how he organizes it by folding the short sleeves then the long sleeves and leaving the underwear aside for the boil while doing his own and how he tucks the sucks into one another. Oh, that was another matter, how the boil would go on and on about his white and black socks because they were 'boring and plain', but they went with everything and they could be confused with the other's. Only to compound it further to have the boil argue that his underwear was also boring and plain.

Their communication was fine.

The next book he picked up was more interesting, the subject matter was one that fascinated him.

"A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone." He read to himself, a raspy whisper under his breath. The more he read about it, the more he seemed to understand and think of himself as it. It wasn't often that he ever thought about himself in anyway other than who he was on the outside, his thoughts usually going on about other than himself. He wasn't introverted but he was. No, that didn't make sense. He didn't think inwardly about himself. Does that? Probably not. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his finger hovered over a line of text that read, 'Demisexuality may make forming romantic or sexual relationships more difficult for some people. Demisexuals often make first impressions with sexuals of being "just friends", which may make them sexually value the relationship less'.

The book was much more fascinating than the others, that was for sure. Sexuality, Romanticism, and Identification Alignment

"A person who is romantically attracted to others but is not limited by the other's sex or gender." He started, a new chapter on '-romantic' as oppose to the previous six on '-sexual'. "Panromantic asexuals seek romantic relationships for a variety of reasons including companionship, affection, and intimacy, but they are not sexually attracted to their romantic partners."

The demon thought to himself for a moment, letting the book sit in his lap. The more he read about the subject, the more he felt like one or the other; demisexual panromantic or a pansexual demiromantic. He knew he had feelings, but where they feelings of interest or companionship? Reaching into his pocket, he knew that he had notes on his species' mating habits and behaviors, so cross referencing would be helpful here. He vaguely recalled writing the term 'pansexual' in there because their species did not preference a gender when it came to their bonded. However, the space inside his jacket was empty 'cept for a pen. He groaned as he recalled that he had given said notebook away. Perhaps it was his inner demon that was realizing things before himself and that was why he was feeling this way. Or perhaps he was over thinking it. He wasn't sexually attracted to the boy, a demisexual doesn't develop feelings until they were in a relationship in which the romanticism comes in... but.... unless he was already in... no, he wasn't, he was certain he was in a platonic - unless his wolf thought it was... he hurried to another book.

The book he pulled from the shelf was more of a test than advice or information. Are We Dating or Are We Friends? Questions to Ask Oneself in Every Relationship

He was desperate, shut up.

Could You Picture Your Future Without Your Partner

Well, he had planned to return back to the room after this, clean a little before the boil had returned from brute ball practice. After that, the two of them were going to throw the laundry in and prepare dinner together. After that, it was up in the air, probably homework or studying. He was almost certain that he had a paper that was due, but as far as futures went, he didn't think much of it. Everyday had some sort of interaction with his 'roommate'.

Do You Think of Your Partner Frequently

Well, considering he was wondering if the boil had actually put his laundry in the hamper and that they had enough food for the night, he was thinking about the boil frequently. Then again, he thought about a lot of things frequently enough that the boil was more of a distraction from his thoughts.

Do You Value the Opinions of Your Partner?

Of course he did! It was a matter of a personal view or judgment, there was no fact or knowledge behind really, just a personal thought. If he were to not value it, then it would mean disrespect and the last thing he had wanted to do was disrespect the boil for all that he had done for him. He valued his opinions and, in conjunction with his own, made more informed decisions. That he had to give props to.

Does Your Partner Make You a Better Creeper

Uru was a lot better off than he was before. He was a lot more open with the boil and thus a bit more open with others (probably to the extent of if the boil was a mile, everyone else was a foot in comparison). But he was better, he was functioning again.

He was getting rather uncomfortable that the book kept using the phrase 'your partner'...

Are You Okay with Their Flaws

Scratching his scruff, he scrunched up as he held back a laugh. Oh how the list went on on that one! He was tapping the back of the book with his fingers as he counted off all the stuff that he found as irksome rather than flaws.
1. The amount of unhealthy, greasy meat that he consumed day in and day out and how much of that made up most of their grocery shopping. At least it keeps him from whining about it, plus he cooks it himself.
2. The way that his scent overwhelmed the fang snare after working out (there is a shower in the gym for a reason) or after brute ball practice (also in the lockerroom). Though, he had grown used to it.
3. His method of folding laundry is horribly slow and inefficient.
4. He snores.
5. He sasses a lot.
6. He is loud.
7. He is a menace.
8. He is annoying.
9. He is always ontop of him for something.
10. He likes tea more than coffee.

Tapping all ten fingers, he let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his messy black hair that often finds itself staying up. Though he had a few things wrong, it was what made the boil himself. He couldn't ask him to change because there were a handful of things that rubbed him. Literally.

Do You Enjoy Helping Your Partner

Laundry? Because he was too slow and Uru found some sort of calm doing it. It didn't require focus and it was relatively monotonous. Cooking? They did that together, sharing the kitchen. While the boil handled the meat, Uru handled just about everything else, including the plating. Glad he learned that from the servants. There was that one time he got sick too... he couldn't help but help, the guy looked pitiful and helpless.

Do They Make You Laugh

Only when he says something stupid. Only then.

Help You Through Tough Times

His eyes fell to the page, growing distant into himself. Yes. He had saved him from his toughest times and still continues to do so. He could remember taking his hand that day, getting him onto his feet. How the first time he had stepped into his room to talk; and to quote 'a secure place to talk about stuff'. It certainly felt secure. He didn't help him through it, he was helping. He had feelings - no, he had concerns.... he had concerns about his feelings and feeling concerned. That much was established.

Do You Compromise

There was a week of him trying to give the bed back to the boil who had adamantly insisted that he use it while he had used the couch. There was also that time where they tried to drink the other's tea and coffee, but opted to stick to their own preference of beverages. Then again, the stubborn boil fights him every time he is made the little spoon. It only made sense since he was the taller of the two and, in his opinion, the bigger one! If the boil had tried, he'd just be staring at his back and may be uncomfortable to lay his head on his shoulder. He wasn't the type of guy who worked out so that he had to waddle around, but he was thick. Still... still, Uru had let him spoon and fork from time to time, cuddle time was cuddle time. It was physically, and mentally comforting for him.

Are You Comfortable with Your Individuality

To be honest, if Uru hadn't been himself, the boil would have lost his source of entertainment and snark.

Can You Openly Speak Your Mind

Uru was blunt. The boil was blunt. So that wasn't an issue.

Have You Spent Hours Talking About Nothing

He recalled one night where they sat up and just talked, not about his past, not about his, they just talked. In the end, he found the boil pressed up against his chest, asleep while he had been hanging an arm and leg off the side of the couch.

Are You Comfortable with Sharing Your Weaknesses

The boil knew them. Uru was sure of it. He was sure that the boil knew his weaknesses, all the ones that made him crumble. He knew that if he tried to be defensive - rebuild those mental walls, the boil was there with a mental sledgehammer mentally demolishing those walls. He knew his weaknesses and, if he had asked, Uru wouldn't deny telling him them.

Do You Find Ways to Compliment One Another

'Urubutt' and 'Mr. Grumpy Pants' must be his form of complimenting...


The hellhound groaned as he got back up to find another book. Sliding his finger down a spine or two, he sat back down on the ground with five, opening them and skimming them.

Running his hands down his face, he tucked his chin down into his chest. He was definitely concerned for the feelings he was feeling because those feelings concerned a certain boil he may be developing feelings for.

"Damn it..."

Things had gotten very comfortable as of late. School had slowed down as the semester was nearing the end for the year. However, students didn't just graduate when the year ended. There were some students who remained Hobgoblins for awhile before they decide that they were ready to move on with their lives to become graduates and alumni. Some had came back to the academy to become teachers and faculty. Some became residents in the town. Everyone of the staff was - at one point in their lives - students like themselves. They had to learn FEAR and the way of Halloween. The future was a heavy concept in the demon hound's mind, a concept that grew more with each passing day as the end of the semester grew near.

Uru'baen had found that his classes weren't as frequent and his workload was less than usual. Finals were around the corner, so it left a lot of free time - that should be used for studying. Instead, he used his free time thinking a lot, and spending it with his boilfriend. While he spent most nights at his own dorm, he spent most of the days, and some nights, at the monster's dorm with the monster hellhound and the pack. It was comfortable there, almost like a routine - a habit actually. He would come in, toe off his shoes, a wide grin slipped across his face as he spied the green-eyed boil moving around the living space with such ease. He would come to him, nuzzle him, say his 'hello's' before settling in comfortably, making himself at home. For all intents and purposes, it was their home. The pair would move like a well placed clog. Uru was perfectly content to sit at the kitchen island and watch as the monster hellhound move about the food prep area, cooking his concoctions and fill the apartment of savory aroma. He was happy, at ease, with cleaning the dishes, loading them into the dishwasher to hear the low hum of its inner mechanics whir to life. Unwind in the livingroom after wrestling with the foxfire pack, feeding and bathing them. Uru with a book, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, Damien with his own, nestled up or laying on his lap. It was comfortable, a comfort he didn't expect to have in his life. At first it was difficult, being guarded, but over time his lack of modesty showed when he was comfortable. Shortly after being boilfriends, his sense of boundaries were apparently out the window when he shameless pulled on a pair of Damien's sweatpants. He enjoyed sitting on the couch and watching a good film, banter with the monster hound over semantics of plot and actor behavior or how the script was written and the way lines were delivered. It seemed that Damien had plans for his future, a career path he had planned to pursue. He had a bright future ahead of him, and Uru encouraged it. As long as Damien was happy, he was good with it - no matter what it was.

But what about himself?

Uru had no plans after graduating. He had came to the academy to escape his mother and to be free of constantly feeling threatened, tensed, stressed, and, frankly, afraid. He had grown so much since leaving the Cocytus estate, but with his mother's exile, his sister's ascension, he was uncertain what would be there for him after he left Amityville. He had no home to return to, he had associated his room and Damien's as 'home'. It smelt like it. It felt like it. But when they graduated and they would have to leave to make room for other students coming it, their 'home' will likely be gone. However, he associated Damien with 'home', it was what made all these places feel as such. Perhaps thinking that these apartments and places as 'home' wasn't correct, but rather what made them home was the presence of the other. Still, what got him down, causing his mind to become a maelstrom of thoughts - doubts, fear, uncertainty, was that after graduating... what becomes of them? Would Damien remain his boilfriend? Would the monster hellhound return to his pack? Why would he take a packless hellhound, and a demon no less, also a male, to a pack? Pack dynamics probably differed too.

That would be a true sense of losing his home for the second time.

Over the past couple of weeks, Uru was beginning to become distant like their initial times together. He had stuck around the monster's dorm but would disappear into the woods while his dorm was being renovated. Now, he was just looking for reasons to not be there; the gym, a club, going into town, the Maul (for sakes, everyone knows he doesn't go there regularly without purpose), or just back to his room. Surely Damien had caught on, he was not stupid. He was the wittiest creep he knew. Uru appreciated that Damien didn't press him about it. He liked that. Damien could read him like a book, like the script from memory of his favorite film. There were days where Uru would simply shift to his natural state - forgoing the ability to speak - and staying in bed, nestled somewhere unseen and unbothered. Damien would spend the day with him, moving his plans around. It was times like those that he felt safe and loved, understood and at peace. The nights they woke up each other due to nightmares, nestled into each other's arms to just talk about it until they passed out again. Damien wasn't stupid, nor was he unsympathetic. Which made his doubting thoughts that more confusing.

There were heavy implications with their current relationship that may have escaped the monster. Perhaps their traditions, instincts, differed. However, he knew that when his feeling began to bloom for the boil, that he was in far too deep. For his kind, there isn't a slow ease into it, it was more like falling down into the nine rings head first with no cushion waiting for you at the bottom. His feelings were intense and he knew that they are not required to be reciprocated, but he was in for the boil 'til the end. Unlike most, he stayed with his intended for life. However, he wasn't going to put that on the monster. That choice would always remain with the older hound.

It was one night like any other, Damien was putting away the take-out boxes after deciding that neither of them felt like cooking. He came to the living room to find the larger demon hunched over the coffee table, chin on his clasped fists. "Alright, what is it? You've been so distant lately, it's like you're not even here anymore."

Uru winced briefly, his face scrunching up. He glanced up at the boil. "It's... not something I want to talk about just yet."

"You're gonna have to talk about it at some point, Urubutt. I ain't going anywhere until you do, just you know, I'm gonna be around to talk to. So 'yet' is gonna be 'now'." Damien countered as he plotted down next to him. His tone became more serious and concerned as he leaned over to the stubbled boil. "Uru, talk to me." There wasn't a lot the demon would tell the monster 'no' to. The demon hound sighed as he reached over the side of the couch into his pack, pulling free a dark folder with the school's logo on it - specifically the demon's emblem. It wasn't a special folder, anyone could buy it from the campus store. However, Uru looked at it forlornly in his hands before turning it over to the monster. He watched as the monster's green eyes looked at the writing, scanning from left to right, moving down line by line to take the information in. "This is-"

"My graduation dungeon exam application." Uru finished with a low voice, his eyes downcasted. The page flipped a couple of times. "Documents of the necessary pre-requisites to graduate; the classes, the exams, the spars, it's all there. In triplicate." He counted off his fingers. Damien was a great deal of progress ahead of him in terms of academics when they had first met. But Uru had became determined to catch up, to meet the boil as an equal. He studied hard and spent as much time as possible to reach the level Damien had at Amityville. However, the momentum of his own progress had pushed him to the point that he had unknowingly met the requirements to graduate. He was given the letter by gnome. Upon receiving it, he had nearly thrown it away in fear of... well, this. He could sense, feel, smell the scent that was coming from the monster. He could not tell if it was excitement, happiness, concern, or whatever else. Uru clasped his hands together again, his knuckles white. "I just... I don't want to turn it in. Not yet." I am not ready to leave this - us. Uru could be as stoic as possible, but he was still a being of emotions. He had emotional spurts from time to time. One of those was when he was in a low, dark place which Damien had reached out for. He had taken the bottled emotions that Uru had stored away and popped the cork, letting it flood out until he was a whimpering pup in the older student's arms.

The sounds of flipping page continued, back and forth, Uru knew he was looking at something. It was the soft sounds of contemplation that drew his attention from the sudden fascination of the coffee table had taken on, up to the handsome face he had grown to feel warm for, his brows shooting up. Damien was looking down at a page and he was curious himself, he sat upright to look as well. It was the last page of the application after the long lines of texts of 'Terms of Agreement', at the bottom of the page was a line.



The monster hound had his chin in his hand with a soft hum. "You should turn this in, y'know." the way Damien spoke was so nonchalant as if the situation - graduating - wasn't that big of an issue. Uru stared at him in bewilderment, uncertain if this was really Damien. His eyes were the same vibrant green that he loved to stare at, the tone of voice was the same without notable changes. This was the individual that had watched him fall apart, the one who put him back together again, the one who kept him together. This was the individual that he desperately cherished telling that he should end a chapter in his life. A chapter in his life when it was finally gotten good. "I mean, you're qualified to graduate. Everything is so jacking organized, but I expect nothing less of a little neat freak you can be. Almost immaculate, actually-"

"You want me to leave?" The sound that escaped him was a mixture of anger and absolute hurt. He wasn't even sure where the voice came from because it did not sound like him. "You want me to graduate and leave? What about you? I'm not going to jus-"

"Woah, woah, calm down, Uru." Damien's eyebrows shot up in concern, his hands reaching out to grasp at the larger boil's wrist to settle him. Together, their hands rested on the demon's knee. "Where is this even coming from? What does graduating have anything to do with you leaving me - you're my boilfriend."

"I have nothing..." He muttered, looking at where his hands touched his own. How well their skin tones seemed to match even though they were different. How delicate Damien's hands were and obscenely long that it should be considered illegal, compared to his own larger, slightly hairy knuckled hands. The demon shook his head with a growl as he got up, turning to go somewhere - anywhere else. "Just drop it, Damien. Forget I said anything."

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" The elder canine cried as he hooked an arm over the muscular elbow of the other, pulling them both back down on the couch. If Uru hadn't caught himself on reflex, he would definitely have smashed his face against the monster's. He could feel the death grip on him and the pinning stare like a venomous green that paralyzed him. There wasn't much he would tell Damien 'no' to, especially when he was serious. He learned that trying to hide anything from the monster would only be uncovered later and it would be worse off than being forthcoming. Initially, Uru had figured he was the only one with a Death-Is-Coming stare, but, he had to hand it to him, Damien had one of equal intensity.

Uru swallowed hard as his eyes diverted to stare at the boil's collar instead. "I graduate and I will have nowhere to go. I can't go back to the estate, the laws are firm. I've already decided that I won't go back...

"That's fine." Damien interjected with a grin. "You can come back with me, then." He says it with such simplicity as if it was that simple. Uru stared at him, his eyebrows meeting at the center of his forehead. Uru attempted to object before a hand was quickly slapped over his mouth with a pointed look. "No, you don't get to self-deprecate anymore. You should give yourself a lot of credit and came a long way to go back now." Tentatively taking his hand away, the monster boil poked the bigger hound. "Now smile."

It took a moment. His blue eyes searching but found nothing but sincere seriousness and the usual playful innocence. He let out a breathe through his nose, cracked a smile, before burying his head into the junction of Damien's neck, letting his weight fall onto him. Sometimes, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. There was an audible 'ooph' that made his body rumble with a chuckle.

"You're heavy..." he huffed, his hand trapped between them, the other on his back.

Uru wound himself tighter around the boil. There was some head scratching - those comforting circles one does with their fingers. He wondered how he managed to get as lucky as he had. He had been wrought with torment from his mother growing up, known to be treated with respect because that was how the servants were told to do, how does one make friends when they are all paid - see: forced - to pretend to be? The exile of his father, to being mistreated when expectations weren't met, the first solace he had since then was being allowed to come to Amityville just to escape. As much good as that did when he was forced to go back home again, leading to his own exile. If Damien hadn't found him on that rainy day, had not dragged him back to his place - and he wasn't sleep deprived and starving, where would he be? Would he have gone and stayed at the Haunted House, lost within himself? Perhaps. He wasn't sure why he had stuck around the monster who continued to chip his way through his mental barriers, but he had managed. The monster didn't chip away at those walls, he wrecked them. Mentally, he imagined Damien striking a silly victorious pose on the rubble that once was the proverbial wall in his heart.

"But in all seriousness, I should take you to see my pack.... an' g' off!" He muffled into his neck.

Uru grumbled something indecipherable but rolled off him obligingly, looking at him from the corner of his eye. He wasn't frowning at least. "But I'm a lone hound."

"More reason to come meet them."

"I'm a demon." Uru turned to look up at the ceiling.

"Don't think it really matters." Damien joined him at the fixated point of their gaze, their hands clasped across their chests, well, as comfortably as one could side-by-side on a couch.

"You're in a relationship with a male - with me."

"Again, don't really think it matters." His speech dragging slowly to punctuate that it really didn't.

"I have nothing to offer; skills or funds or-"

"They'll love you anyway."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Nah, you're just making this really easy." Damien turned his head to look at the demon's profile, grinning to himself. "You tell yourself these things all the time, I'd expect to have answers to these by now. I'm proud of you, y'know. You've done a lot, came a long way from being a grump jack."

"I'm still a 'grumpy jack'."

"But less of one. You smile more, which I thought was impossible. Plus, you bake, who grumpy jack bakes? And you whine when you're in bed, you become a total brat when you want to sleep in. I wouldn't have gotten to know that much of you if you didn't let me."

"What's your point, Damien?"

Damien returned his gaze to the ceiling when Uru's head turned his way. He shrugged. "I figured you'd want to get to know more about me, then. So I'd like to take you to see my pack."

"Is that... an invitation?"

"With a stipulation, of course." There was that grin again.

Uru narrowed his eyes, colors slowly bleeding solid. "And that is what?"

Damien swung his legs around, sitting up right towards the table. He looked over his shoulder at the demon hound who looked up at him expectantly. The monster hound leaned forward and picked up the dark folder, dropping it with a thin splat on the demon's chest. "Sign it." Uru scowled to which Damien rolled his eyes. "It's not a Faustian Contract. I just want to know that you'll at least attempt to graduate, Uru. Take the steps forward to your future."

Uru sat himself up beside the monster, holding the folder in hand. Signing it would mean he could turn it in, not necessary that he had to. There wasn't really any sort of deadline. He justified that if he did sign it, he could still turn it in with Damien and they could do the exam together, graduate together, and move on from this place together. Perhaps it was a pipedream but it was a nice thought. There was also that he could graduate and he wouldn't be bound by the student rules of not spending every night in Damien's bed. He did bring the better of himself out. He was getting better. He was smiling more, usually involuntarily. His facial expressions changed with each thought, nodding to himself. He probably looked ridiculous from the outside. He placed the folder down on the table, flipping through the pages to assure that everything was in place before taking the pen to the line.

Uru'baen
Body Shape - x
Eyes - x
Shirt/Jacket - x
Outfit - x & x & x
Boots - x
Tattoo - x (right wrist, left rib)

Workout Outfit - x

Brenna
Outfit - x

Workout Outfit - x