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There'd been no music to set him straight on the way over to Rylan's. No amount of loud Metallica or melodious Queen could calm his troubled thoughts, not even the errant dance station he'd found surfing at red lights. Lucas was wound up by a week of eggshells and heartache, but after the dim realization that he was still letting his fear grip him too tightly, he knew he had to do this - if not for himself, then for Ry. The firefighter deserved better than this.

He parked where he always did, letting himself in the gate like nothing had changed, feeling the flutter in his stomach and hammering in his heart that came standard with being there - even if there was an equal measure of fear than excitement. Even so, a smile crept to his face when Fidget came bounding out, taking a moment to kneel and give the dalmatian a fond and friendly scritch and pat on his side.

Lucas approached the door after he'd humored enough of Fidget's wild energy, knocking without the hesitation he'd had the last time. There was a very real possibility that it could be the last time he paid a good visit, but knowing would be better than not. Seeing Rylan...would be worth the price he'd have to pay. The nerves were still there and, running a hand nervously through his half-tail, he preemptively took off his jacket and folded it over his arm. He paused at that, glancing to it and changing the jacket's placement to his prosthetic arm. Irony had no place just then.

Pale eyes lifted to meet Rylan's, and he wasn't sure he was expecting anything, which gave him a small sort of relief to find neutrality looking back at him. It was better than hostility, or...well, the friend. "Hey," he replied with a faint smile, though he had enough sense to look surprised when Fidget barreled inside. "Hey! He -- sorry, he was..." He extended his hand after the dog and then dropped it. "...Fidget." Really, there was nothing more to say about the dog than that.

"Thanks." The word was soft, as if he hadn't exactly anticipated an invitation. Showing up? Yeah, he could do that, but everything after it was going to be by the seat of his pants.

Lucas stepped in, a wave of nervousness trilling in his ear, whispering feverish memories of flashing blades and blood. He pushed it aside with memories of 'washing' the truck, of the date, of the peaceful and happy moments that happened before the stranger.

Turning back to Rylan, his fingers toying over the jacket on his arm, he drew in a deep breath. A million things to say vied for dominance in his mind, feelings and thoughts crowding behind his eyes. It was all so tiring. The only thing he allowed to pass - the only thing that mattered, in case he was kicked out in the next second - was what left his lips first. "I'm sorry." His voice was tired, shoulders tense, but his gaze remained on Rylan unwavering. "I'm sorry for hurting your friend. I'm sorry for insulting you."

The look he gave Rylan was utterly incredulous. He stared at the firefighter, unblinking, waiting for something - anything, but that seemed all he was going to get. An indistinct sound.

It hurt. The pain he'd felt when Rylan had showed up to save the friend was back, stabbing between his ribs and making his throat dry. Lucas refused to run this time, even going so far as taking his jacket off his arm and tossing it over the side of the couch, unwilling to move away from the other. "I've said sorry to your friend," he stated, and there was a lowness in his voice, the threads of his hurt there, "I've said sorry to you, and -- and he lectures me about you and you have more to say to Fidget than to me."

Frustration needled at him, but he would not let the other off so easy. "What can I do? You've gotta give me something to work with, Ry, I've lost a week of you and it's killing me here."

The look of disbelief didn't fade. First Maeve, now this guy? Lucas turned and paced slowly, though he visibly flinched at the use of 'safety of his own home.' His heart sunk, even as it beat a tattoo against his ribs, having the feeling a corner was being turned that he did not want to go around.

"I'm a wolf, Ry, a werewolf, and some s**t comes with the territory. I don't know it all, I don't have all the answers. It's not an excuse but it's a part of me now." His pale eyes turned to Rylan, sadness heavy across his brow. "It's not like I chose to pick a fight with someone important to you, he was just a naked stranger in my boyfriend's house and he was as good as a robber, to me." And to think, he'd gone there to take a step forward. Now, it was all falling apart.

He ran a hand over his face, swallowing hard again, feeling exceptionally unwelcome - in the territory he used to think was his, in the presence of a man he wanted so badly to keep safe. Maybe it was better this way. "If there's nothing I can do, I can just...go," he offered, the last word a little faint. "I just wanted to apologize to your face, try and make things right." And finally, Lucas looked away, hurt making his stomach heavy as lead.

"Neither are you." The reply was quiet and cold. Lucas backtracked to the couch, grabbing his jacket. "I'm at a loss here, Ry. I don't know why you're so angry at me you'd stop talking to me, I don't know how to tame my brand-spankin'-new instincts from 'territorial' to 'human' yet, I don't know a lot of things." He spread his hands, still holding the jacket. "I'm here, but I can't fight for us by myself. I'm willing to do anything to get you to open up and talk to me, but I don't know what that is."

He looked at Rylan, on the cusp of desperate and lost. "I don't deal with the silent treatment well. I'm running out of options here."

So that was it. Lucas could have laughed for how far apart they were in where they were in their head space. Rylan was hung up on the details and Lucas had been a step away from assuming the demise of their short-lived relationship. How the ******** was he so bad at this?

"That's what you want to know? Fine. Great! I'll relive the entire thing for you, because as much as I've tried to forget, I can't. Let me show you how much of a monster I am." Exhaling sharply between his teeth, the jacket fell from his hand to the couch again. His skin felt electric with relief and hot from shame, lifting his hands and pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it against his jacket. With his wounds on display, he turned and went to the front door, opening it. "I knocked, he answered. Stark naked. Said something dumb like, 'sorry about that,' and put the towel over his junk. Like I gave a s**t." Facing Rylan, he put his prosthetic hand on the door, fingers in a clawed position. "I growled and held the door open so he couldn't shut me out, and he stepped back, which allowed me to lunge - " he mimicked the motion, the door slamming behind him as it had that day, " - and got inside."

Lucas made a twisting motion with his metal hand, pointing with his good one to where Cas had been standing. "******** towel-whipped me, here." He tapped his temple and ear. "So I swung back at him - with my good hand, might I add - ended up scratching him instead of clocking him." He slapped the place of the injury on his prosthetic arm - mostly because he was still healing on his good arm and slapping that seemed like a bad idea.

Light on his feet, he passed Rylan on his way into the kitchen, pausing at the knife block. "He ran here and pulled out two knives. I took off my jacket to try and not get stabbed to death by your naked pal, and tried to grapple with him. He slashed me," he extended his arm, indicating his bicep and the line there, still-healing but clean cut, "and moved back. I tried to get him on the ground, coming at him." His prosthetic arm reached out towards the ghost of the image that still played in front of his eyes. "Then he swung the bread knife, and I lifted my hand," the prosthetic hand lifted, "and caught it against my palm and thumb. That was four digits worth of damage, by the way, thanks for asking." Okay. Lucas was mad but if Rylan wanted to know, he was going to know it all, including his own hurt. "Caught his second swing of the cleaver here." His arm twisted, showing a second, deeper wound.

"He let the knife in my hand go, so I threw it behind me, because I wasn't trying to kill him, just get him the ******** out or to submit, because believe it or not, wolves aren't mindless killers. I tried to kick," he lifted his false leg, balancing neatly on his good one, "he grabbed. I twisted, kicked, got free, but he grabbed me again and we both fell." Lucas twisted and got to his knees near where Rylan was standing, spreading his hands. "Cleaver in the chest. Your buddy pulled it out and then punched me in the same place." He looked at his chest, and though it was healing, there was the faintest mottling from the bruising that remained. "He scrambled to get back, and I tackled him -- here." He slid forward, and it was likely Rylan would already know the end was there by the position.

"I finally got a hit on him, and you're damn right I used the business end of this thing," he flexed his prosthetic arm, "because by then, I was furious. Then you yanked me off." Slowly, he got to his feet, turning to fully face Rylan again, brows drawn tight and a slight tremor running through him. The words that dropped from his mouth were full of hurt more than anger. "So there you have it, chief. Your buddy probably got a slight concussion and some scratches and your support. I got a grand total of thirty stitches and your silence. I never tried to bite him, despite clearly being an out of control monster. Anything else?"

When Rylan spoke, Lucas sighed and ran his good hand over his face. "I'm not assigning blame to anyone, Ry, come on." They had connected so well before - he couldn't help feel like Cas had thrown them off their rails and he wasn't sure how to get them back in place.

"I'm here for you, not -- " He huffed, looking at those crossed arms like they were a wall. "What I'm saying is you're defending him when I'm not attacking and all I'm trying to get you to understand from my absence is I needed you. Plain and simple." He threw one hand to the side, as if he could still see himself bleeding and confused against the wall. "I needed you to explain what the ******** was going on, I needed you to see the man beneath the monster that was here for you and not accuse me of purposely attacking him. I needed to know you didn't hate me when it took me a week to not hate myself. I needed you to try."

Lucas didn't give a s**t about fair, about fault - he cared about them. "All I hear from you is about your friend and not a word for me. Honestly, Ry, is there any room for me when you've got Thorne and your buddy?" Rylan got what he needed out of this, and now Lucas would get his - for better or for worse. Pale eyes stared up into amber and while Rylan may have set the tone for the fight by how he opened the door, his tone was going to set whether the werewolf stayed or walked out for good.

Lucas sighed, slowly rubbing his good hand over his face again, pinching his nose between his eyes. This guy. Rylan was ridiculously sweet and open and even in his explanations, there was a frankness that Lucas found refreshing. Comforting, even. His anger ebbed and receded, his hurt a small sting and not nearly as encompassing.

"Ry, I'm -- okay, first, I'm really trying to work on the communication thing, because clearly? I suck at it." He tried to smile, faint and uncertain. "Second, I'd never ask you to -- pick sides. All I want to know is that we're still -- us. I'm never going to say it's him or me, I'm never gonna -- undermine that relationship for the sake of ours."

Damnit damnit damnit. Despite the tense situation - or maybe because of it - Lucas reached out and placed his hands on Rylan's hips, leaning a little closer. "You're important to me, Ry. I've missed you something awful, I just -- ********, I don't know. I really just needed to make sure we were okay. And," his smile flickered upwards a little more, "now that I've survived that gripping terror, I'll have a better idea of what to not do."

He laughed, softly, weakly. "Just warn me if you have someone over during the full moon, okay? I promise, no more romantic surprises during that time."