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ROUND TWO.
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It had been over two weeks since Dahmer discovered that Sherlock followed him from Jasper Valley. During that time, he hadn't heard anything at all from his old partner. At first, the male believed that she had listened to him and went back home. But he could still smell her scent here and there, although never close to his home. He would be wandering through the territories, either exploring or gathering supplies for the tree house and he'd stumble across her scent. It was difficult for him – his mind would be on other things, but in that instant of recognition Dahmer would be transported to years ago when things were easy between the two. He would halt mid-step and merely stand where he was for several moments, assaulted by the memories he held dearest. The mental reel would finish and Dahmer would be left there with nothing but the knowledge that the past was the past, and things would never be the same again. It was enough to prevent him from seeking his old friend out – instead he would take a steadying breath and move on, alone as ever.
The anger that had erupted from him had boiled steadily for days, turning cool after a week and then solidified into regret soon after, settling heavily in his throat. He was still angry at Sherlock – but it was a detached sort of anger, something he couldn't access himself. Rather he felt it, but the emotion didn't have the same control over him, not like it did when he stood in front of her. When he saw that look of exasperation in her face as she apologized to him, something broke inside of Dahmer. And he'd been spending the last few weeks nurturing whatever it was inside of him, trying to put the pieces back together. He was succeeding – a little, at least. He'd met a fair few other wolves and hadn't spent all his time alone. He was mending. But the knowledge of her continued presence nagged him - why was she still here?
On this particular day, though – Dahmer's thoughts were as far from Sherlock as possible. He still felt the small ache located somewhere near his throat – but in the hustle and bustle of the day's activities, it was easy for the male to ignore it. It was hurricane season and Dahmer was preparing his home in case of violent weather.
The day was perfect for that sort of thing – it had dawned crisp and clear with just a slight breeze. Dahmer was up with the sun, eating a quick meal before settling into his comfortable routine. He'd finished gathering the supplies needed the night before and set about the task of sorting everything into their proper place. By noon, the male was ready to get to work. The day had progressed – clouds moved in from the horizon, dark and brooding. The sun was hidden amongst the grey blanket, making the once promising day gloomy and overcast. A cold wind blew in from the East, whistling through the trees. It sent the branches into a flurry, their leaves of bright fire dancing furiously.
Although the day's weather was a far cry from those of the mid-summer, the coolness was lost on Dahmer. He was busy working hard, lost in his thorough preparations for the upcoming storms. He was currently high up on the branches of his tree, balanced carefully as he fitted his measured wood together, nailing them into place with even strokes of his hammer. He worked slowly, methodically and with a cheerfulness that he hadn't felt in a while.
Dahmer moved quickly from one branch to another, steadying himself on the wall of his house, before switching over to the other side with an easy nimbleness that seemed at odds with his vast size. He pushed up against the far wall, judging its place before taking one of the nails he held between his lips and hammering it into the wood. Oblivious to everything but the task on hand, Dahmer went about his day peacefully, humming to himself as he worked.
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DUN DUN DUUUNNNNN
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Blinking pale eyes slowly, Sherlock woke to sunshine in the face. With a groan, she shoved her nose underneath her tail in an attempt to make the sun go away. Why did it have to be so annoying, up high in the sky? For once she had slept, finally succumbing to her body’s need for sleep, and she just wanted to stay that way, just for a little while longer. She wasn’t one for sleep, especially when she was on a mission or trying to solve a puzzle- her mind was always racing far too much for her to sleep, so when she did manage to fall asleep, she normally slept for stretches at a time. This was different though, Sherlock was bored out of her mind, and all of this waiting around was beginning to drive her mad.
Before meeting Dahmer, she would have been fine trying to find something to distract her mind, to constantly keep going and not staying in one place for too long; she would leave once the distractions stopped being enough for her raging mind. This time, however, she was purposely staying around, putting herself through this dreadful boredom. She had tried to entertain her mind by exploring some of the surrounding areas but not even the action of exploring, of getting up and doing something, was enough to interest her mind, and to make whatever it was that she was feeling go away. The only good the explorations had done was put her scent around where Dahmer would have caught it, that way when she finally sought him out he would know that she was nearby.
With the wind rustling her fur, Sherlock finally pulled herself up and stretched. With a thoughtful gaze towards the south, the lithe female made up her mind and began to make her way towards what she had learned was called the Ethereal Eclipse. Not knowing the actual process for these things, Sherlock hoped that over two weeks apart would have been enough time for Dahmer to calm down and not want to punch her in the face when she showed up again.
By the time she made it into the thick forest, grey clouds had begun to creep into the sky, looming ever closer towards Sherlock and her destination- it was almost like the day could feel the dread that the ebony female was feeling as she drew closer to Dahmer and what could possibly be Fight Number Two.
When she finally reached the tree trunk that she had sat upon for their first meeting together, the sound of a hammer pounding reached her ears which caused a small smile to grace her lips. Although she knew it could be another wolf building something, she knew that the odds were unlikely that the wolf creating that particular noise was anyone other than Dahmer. Upon hearing that sound, she could feel what others would deem to be luck heading her way- when Dahmer was working with his hands he was always so much calmer and got lost in the project. With a small nod of her head, Sherlock set off in the direction of the noise.
It was only a short walk from their initial meeting place when Sherlock finally caught sight of Dahmer up high in the trees, building what appeared to be a tree house. Her approach had been quiet but knew that even if she had created a ruckus that the likelihood of Dahmer having heard would have been slim- when Dahmer was building something, he was very much like Sherlock and got lost in his head and in the motions. She sat down several feet away from the tree Dahmer was working in, her tail wrapping around her paws as she sat in silence for a few minutes, watching him work. It always amazed her how graceful he could be, for one so large, and it reminded her of being back in Jasper Valley, when it was pretty much just the two of them because none of the others wanted to willingly be around her and yet Dahmer did constantly, even when they weren’t training or going out on a mission.
Suddenly, she knew exactly what she had to say and what she had to do. Sherlock waited until there was a pause in the hammering and Dahmer wasn’t in any danger of falling out of the tree before she called out to her friend, What I said before, Dahmer, I meant it. She paused for a moment, waiting for her original words to set in before continuing on, But if you still want me to leave, I will.
She’d be fine if he wanted her to leave, she told herself, after all she had been fine without him before.
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WELL. THIS GOT OUT OF HAND.
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Even though Dahmer was working against a deadline, his movements were never rushed or hurried in any way. At least one hurricane struck shortly after the season began, so he knew he didn't have a great deal of time to get everything ready – but still the male insisted on taking his time. Dahmer took great pride in his workmanship, making sure everything was crafted carefully with attention being paid to every detail. While he worked like this, the outside world gradually slipped away as he became completely focused. Hell, a hurricane could have struck and it would have taken him a long time to notice. Which is why Dahmer continued on blissfully, moments after Sherlock arrived on scene. After a while though, he finally paused. He'd used up all the wood he had up in the tree and needed to bring more up. As he put his hammer back in its place on his belt, Dahmer turned away from the house and prepared to jump down. It was then that his eyes fell upon her figure, and Sherlock spoke.
He considered her words carefully a moment, remaining where he was as he looked down on her. After a moment of silence, Dahmer spat the nails from his mouth and dropped down from the branch, landing gracefully on the forest floor. He wouldn't look directly at her though, and moved forward, brushing softly by her as he approached the table he had constructed for his plans. He inspected the tree house from afar before leaning over the crinkled papers that lay upon the table and making a few marks here and there. Still, he said nothing. He kept waiting for that anger to bubble up within him again, to take over like it did last time. Instead, he found that although the wound was still painful, it didn't appear to be festering anymore. He just felt an odd sort of emptiness in the pit of his stomach. And yet, as he considered her words, there was something else. The massive male stayed where he was, his back to her as the memory washed over him.
They were on their fourth or fifth mission and the two of them had come to blows over how to proceed. The target had been lost, and time was running out for the two. If they didn't catch the guy, a great deal of information would be compromised. And even worse – this was the first mission the two of them had been on together since he realized he loved her. Just before the mission the young wolf had been filled with hopeful thoughts – the whole thing would be completed without any problems and then they'd spend the rest of their time together, talking through the night. They'd congratulate themselves and rehash the finer points of their success and maybe, if things were going well – maybe he'd even tell her how he felt.
That morning they had set off and Dahmer had nothing but optimism in his heart. It would take long however, for all of that to disappear. First of all, their target remained elusive from the beginning and before long, the two of them were far behind on their schedule. Secondly – Sherlock never even gave him an opportunity to talk about the mission, let alone his feelings! She wouldn't stop going over their clues, trying to figure out where the target could possibly be. Whenever he offered up a suggestion, his partner would viciously rip holes in his theories and cast them aside and it didn't take long for Dahmer to feel as though he was going to be thrown aside as well. He stopped talking entirely, his eyes narrowing in anger as the two of them ran across rooftops and crouched amongst the shadows as they desperately searched for their quarry. She would ask him a question (even though she already knew the answer – he never understood why she did that. It annoyed the fuck out of him, every time), and he'd merely grunt in response or turn away without responding at all. Not that she noticed – she was buried too deep within her thoughts, nothing could pull her out of them. So Dahmer stopped trying. It wasn't until he had suggested that two of them check out a well-known haunt of the target's when things got nasty.
Predictably, Sherlock found the suggestion trying. It was obvious, she said – no intelligent being would allow themselves to be found so easily. Dahmer was clearly joking, right? Because even he wouldn't have thought of such a stupid theory. Dahmer had listened to her quietly, his features becoming more and more angry as spoke. Finally, his partner seemed to notice his disposition. Well come on, Darwin. She had erupted with exasperation, using the pet name she'd come up for him a while ago. You were joking, weren't you? She'd looked at him then, honestly baffled that he could possibly come up with such an idea and be serious about it. It was at this point, that Dahmer's temper had exploded. He unleashed his frustrations on her, completely destroying any hopes of them remaining undercover in the area they had been hiding, but he hadn't cared. He remembered acknowledging her surprise with satisfaction – wanting to some how force her from that calm, coolness she always seemed to possess. And he mentioned that, too – telling her that the only reason she was able to remain above everything and capable of thinking things through so objectively was that she didn't care about any one or anything aside from her god damn puzzles. And that included him. It was why she didn't have any friends, why he was the only one willing to be partners with her. Why even the head Elder found her trying. He admired her intelligence and valued her ability during missions – but her personality was an entirely different matter.
Dahmer had always been hurt by the way she'd nonchalantly state that she had no friends. He had always known that she stuck around because of the missions and the puzzles they offered. But after a while, he'd secretly held the hope that maybe, just maybe she stayed because of him. The male had always been afraid to ask – but now he knew the answer. Without giving Sherlock a chance to respond, the male drew his hood up over his face and made his escape, scaling the building they had taken refuge behind in record time. Taking care to remain undetected, the male raced across the rooftops, jumping from building to building before coming to rest in a dark alleyway on the outskirts of the town. No enemies would find him here, he was free to spend his time thinking while immersed in the alley's shadows and the shadows of his mind.
A few hours later, Sherlock found him. She spoke quietly and awkwardly. It had always surprised him – for Sherlock always spoke eloquently. But perhaps she wasn't used to talking about her feelings. Regardless, what she spoke rang true with him. I've always said that I don't have friends, Dahmer. And I mean that. I don't have friends...I have just one. And he'd watched her carefully, searching for any evidence that she was just saying what she needed in order to salvage their mission. But her eyes were clear – with no sign of deception. And while it wasn't entirely what he wanted – he wished to be more than her friend - it was enough.
The memory faded and Dahmer pushed himself away from his work table. It occurred to him that throughout their friendships, whenever they fought, it was always Sherlock who sought him out. She had then and she had now. Hell, she'd even found him after he left without saying a word. That had to mean something, didn't it?
With this in mind, Dahmer finally turned to face his old partner and friend. No, Sherlock. I don't want you to go back. His words were soft and broken, but devoid of anger and entirely truthful.
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So this is a little better than my first attempt. SO IT’LL DO
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It was a stalemate once Dahmer noticed her sitting there, the two wolves just staring at each other, one on the ground while the other was high up in the trees. She felt as if her words were hanging in the great distance between them, this great void that had never existed until now while both wolves remained motionless and silent. If she were a wolf who was prone to becoming nervous under a scrutiny, she’d be shifting in her spot; instead, Sherlock calmly met his gaze, hardly blinking as she waited for him to make his move. It was a few minutes later, but felt like almost an eternity stuck in limbo, when she watched Dahmer gracefully drop down from his spot in the tree. As he made his way towards her, Sherlock felt a small electric force that caused her heart to beat ever so faster as he passed by but didn’t think much of it, thinking it was merely just due to static electricity.
Sherlock turned her head and watched him, noticing how, apart from the instance in the tree, Dahmer refused to look directly at her. Instead, he looked everywhere but her. That was okay, Sherlock thought, she’d just take the time to observe him without the possibility of him getting angry. His back was to her, but she watched his hunched shoulders as he made what she assumed were adjustments to his plans- she smirked at that, ever the perfectionist Dahmer was, especially when it came to his carpentry. Allowing the smirk to slip from her lips as she concentrated, she let her eyes see what Dahmer wasn’t saying. The shoulders were tense like he was expecting something to happen – maybe his anger to return, as he had been quite angry during their last meeting – but there was no sign of that, for which Sherlock was grateful for.
Before she got much farther on her observations, she noticed that his writing had ceased but he hadn’t turned around. Instead, his shoulders eased up a bit, as if he were remembering something or lost in thought. Since the only movements that Dahmer seemed to be making were unconscious shifts of the body and his shoulders had become slightly ever so tense, Sherlock found it unlikely that he was gathering his nerves to turn around and finally confront her- instead, she assumed that he was lost in some sort of memory. Since Sherlock knew that smell was the strongest link to memories, she immediately thought that some sort of smell had caused him to remember something; however, she couldn’t place any new smells within the vicinity that would have triggered a memory while she was around; instead, she thought back to the words that she had spoken. Ah yes, it was obvious, the words she had spoken had been as heartfelt as during one of their more serious of fights and had been worded very similarly.
It was always so hard for Sherlock to admit that she had overstepped some sort of boundary, because she usually didn’t care that she had; however, this was Dahmer and he was always the exception. He was the only one who put up with all of her quirks and annoying behaviours- he was truly her one and only friend. And while she claimed that she was used to being friendless, she knew that she was happier having Dahmer in her life- he made her want to be better. So even though it was hard for her – and completely out of character – when she knew she had royally screwed up, she’d try to work her way out of it with Dahmer.
Finally, Dahmer turned around and Sherlock met his gaze as she listened to his soft words. She had been hoping for something a little more to go on – because, really, first he tells her to leave and now he was telling her to stay, it was enough to confuse anyone, even Sherlock Holmes. Well, it was enough to work with, she supposed. Sherlock nodded her head slightly in understanding, a very small smile curling the right side of her lips, then turned her head towards the tree house that he was working on. Only you would try to build a tree house with an upcoming hurricane season looming ahead of us. As if just waiting for the topic to be approached, a large gust of wind blasted them but died down several seconds later. Are you going to finish it and your den before it hits us?
Speaking of dens, Sherlock thought suddenly, she supposed she’d have to find one of her own before they found themselves in a middle of the hurricane that seemed to be brewing.
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LALALALALA. HERE YOU GO.
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As nasty or as long as their fights were, it was always easy for the two friends to settle back into their old routines once a truce was called. Dahmer listened to Sherlock's teasing words, finding himself incapable of holding back the small smile that tugged at his lips. He let it loose and rolled his eyes, tossing a crumpled up piece of paper at her. The male didn't pay attention to see whether or not it hit her, instead he moved away from the table and made his way to the pile of lumber. He brushed past her once again – unable to resist the possibility the of slight contact. The touch was slight – a small brush much like before and it only lasted for an instant. Dahmer was loathe to break contact, forcing himself to continue moving rather than letting it linger. He drew away physically of course – mentally was an entirely different story. Already he could feel himself falling into his own patterns: a worrisome, depressing thought. But he would deal with the consequences of their unhealthy relationship later. For now he was content to endure this oddly buoyant mood.
The tree house was already started way before hurricane season, thank you very much. He smirked, enjoying the meaningless banter that always came after their altercations. They would joke back and forth for a short while – just surface stuff before continuing on as though nothing had happened. Of course, until the next big storm. It wasn't proper or healthy by any standards – especially considering the fact that Dahmer was violently in love with his friend, against his very deep wishes. A recipe for disaster by any means. But it seemed to work for he two, and any attempts to change their pattern never seemed to catch on.
Now I'm rushing to get the damn thing finished before the storms really start. He gave her his very best smile – the lopsided one he saved only for her: his most genuine one. Then he turned back to the wood, throwing back the deep blue tarp he'd secured on top on order to keep the lumber dry. He appeared to forget that his friend was even around for a few moments as he made some mental calculations. Dahmer selected a long piece, holding it up and inspecting it from several different angles before tossing it aside. He continued this for a little longer until several pieces passed inspection and he gathered them up in his arms after putting the tarp back in place.
With that task finished, he appeared to notice Sherlock again – grimacing in apology as he moved by her again, careful not to knock his friend over with the wood. I'm not finishing it entirely – just doing what needs to be done in order to keep it in one piece during the season. I have a lot of plans and you know how it is. I don't want to do a rush job. He stood before the great tree again, and loaded the wood into the pulley system he had rigged up in order to transport his materials to his work station. With quick and effortless movements the male was up amongst the branches again. He yanked the wood up with a few pulls and set about his task. After a few moments of hammering, he looked down at his friend. And what about you? Where have you been staying? Do you have a safe place to spend the season? He spoke and looked as though he was talking about nothing more interesting than the weather, but really he was concerned. Where had Sherlock been staying? Surely it wasn't acceptable enough to withstand the storms that were bound to hit them. He wouldn't be satisfied unless he saw her place himself. And if it wasn't suitable, then what? Dahmer balked at the idea of her staying with him. They were moving forward and he had forgiven his friend for her earlier transgression. That being said, he was far from willing to be in such close quarters with her. He loved her – he both acknowledged and condemned that fact in the same thought. He could deal with just being friends with her, with never being loved back. But in order to do so, the male needed distance. It was crucial to his survival. Living in the same den for a couple of months? It couldn't happen. Maybe the whole thing could be avoided – maybe she'd answer him now, tell him that she found a nice secure place and that there was nothing to worry about. But if not, he knew he would spend all of his time searching for a safe place for his friend. Something close by, but not too near that he'd feel suffocated by her proximity.
These thoughts are rushed through his mind quickly – and he betrayed no sign of them assaulting him. He continued his work as though the topic barely mattered, appearing to calming await her answer. Meanwhile, Dahmer's thoughts were racing.
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Don’t believe the time it says I posted it. IT WAS POSTED LAST NIGHT, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
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Ah, there it was. The signal that all was forgiven, given in the form of a small smile that was finally given permission to grace her friend’s lips. She was always horrible at these exchanges because they dealt in the one area that she wasn’t an expert in – emotions. She understood the basics and knew how to imitate them when she needed to, when she wanted to manipulate someone or wanted to just give them what she knew they wanted, but with Dahmer it was different. It was always different with him. While she could easily give him a reaction that she knew would be the ideal one in any given situation, she knew that she wanted these moments with Dahmer to be truthful and not just an act.
When the crumpled up piece of paper flew playfully through the air and hit her shoulder, she gave an annoyed huff and rolled her eyes slightly at her friend’s childish behaviour but didn’t give voice to it as Dahmer brushed passed her once again. Even though the touch was very slight and lasted no more than a second, Sherlock found that she didn’t. Sherlock was one who would much rather have a limited physical contact with anyone, but she found that she didn’t always hate it when Dahmer initiated these moments. It was an unnatural feeling for the female, not knowing if what she was feeling was normal- she wasn’t used to forming attachments, but she supposed that friends did enjoy brushing passed one another and offering hugs, pats on the shoulders, or one of the many other ways Dahmer seemed so comfortable in giving. She remembered one of the first times Dahmer had rested his hand on her shoulder to point something out, Sherlock had become tense under his hand; it took a while, but eventually the female became used to these moments and even grew to like them.
Sherlock watched Dahmer as he turned his attention back to inspecting the wood under the tarp almost immediately after he made his first comment. It didn’t really matter that he seemed to tune her out, nor did it offend her; if anyone knew what it was like to get drawn into a project, it was Sherlock Holmes. Instead of speaking, she turned her attention to the tree house to observe the loving craftsmanship and then back down to her friend as he began to move his materials towards the tree and spoke once again. She nodded idly at his comment but didn’t offer a response; she didn’t want to distract him as he concentrated on continuing his progress and she was content to just sit back and let him.
After a few moments of continuous work, Dahmer finally stopped and looked down at her with a topic that demanded an answer; no matter how socially awkward she was, she knew the difference between a rhetorical question to one that needed to be answered. I spent a lot of the first week up in the abandoned cemetery, the one that’s just north of her. She wasn’t about to mention that she basically lived underneath a tree for that time, too bored to even complain about anything. Other than that, I’ve not been really staying in any one spot long enough to look for a den. I didn’t think there was a point in finding something permanent when I didn’t even know if I’d be sticking around long enough to call it my own. She said it matter-of-factly and in that moment she knew that it was true; had this meeting gone any differently, had Dahmer wanted her gone, she would have listened to him that second time. She had made that decision while she waited for his anger to evaporate; she knew that if Dahmer had made the final decision while he allowed his motions to cloud his judgement, he would have regretted it. Instead, she had decided to give him time to think his decision over and not allowed him to have the feeling of guilt accompany it.
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I'M IN A RUSH TO GET THIS UPS BEFORE YOU PASSED OUT. SO NO PROOF READING FOR YOU.
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He really shouldn't have been all that surprised. Had everything ever been easy between the two? Of course she didn't have a suitable place to stay. That would be too simple, a situation that wouldn't call for any further assistance from him. He had agreed to allow her to stick around – despite the pain and discomfort it would cause him. It was awful, to be sure...but it was also the truth: their friendship caused him a great deal of pain. She wasn't entirely aware of it – well, no. Knowing Sherlock, Dahmer figured she probably was aware of it. But seeing as it had to to do with emotions (a horrid side effect of being a living creature), she was most likely incapable of puzzling out the finer details of his issues. And did she even want to? Sometimes he wondered. So no, Dahmer had not expected his question to illicit a positive response from the ebony female. Easy wasn't the way for them.
Not really – even from the beginning. Their friendship happened entirely by chance, two beings introduced seemingly by random. The two of them were thrown together in the middle of an incredibly frustrating time in Dahmer's life. And while it was true that his new friend helped him in many amazing ways, she also brought a lot of chaos along with her. In fact, their friendship almost didn't survive the beginning stages. Dahmer always admired Sherlock's genius. Perhaps it was revealed in an unorthodox and insanely annoying way, but it was always impressive. Especially when it lead to the two of them completing their missions in record time. But it all came at a price. The other assassin's found her abrasive and cruel, incapable of censoring her thoughts before she blurted them out for all to hear. She could be inconsiderate and entirely unrepentant. Anyone would find those attributes grounds for separation. And at first, Dahmer almost gave in to his old friend's advice. They called her a lost cause, an unfeeling automaton.
For a while, Dahmer was inclined to believe them. But he stuck with her anyway. He felt sorry for the new assassin. He partnered with her when no one else would, accepting the abuse that came with accompanying her during assignments, deserved or not. There were several times when his frustration boiled over and he approached the edge of his tolerance. He would swear to himself that this mission with her would be his last; that she was on her own from now on. And yet, their odd partnership would continue. What eventually emerged from all this effort and patience was a strong and special sort of companionship that evolved into a very deep and meaningful friendship. He soon learned that Sherlock was capable of emotions, whether she bothered to acknowledge it or not. She was callous about expressing these feelings, but feelings they were. So their team continued to exist. Throughout it all, none of it was easy. And when he realized that he was falling in love with her, all hell broke lose. The entire foundation their friendship had been built on was suddenly crumbling before him as he struggled desperately to keep it together. He was also determined to keep his partner entirely ignorant of the matter. He struggled to deal with his feelings day and night. He was still struggling to deal with them. Which is what made this so hard.
Dahmer smirked and shook his head at his friend's matter of fact tone. He rolled his eyes, taking care to exaggerate the expression so Sherlock was sure to see. Of course she didn't care too much about where she was staying. But would she if he had a hand in it? Even though he was positive he wouldn't be able to handle her proximity if she spent her nights with him, Dahmer knew he wouldn't be able to just leave her to her own devices when it came to finding suitable shelter. For just a second though, Dahmer wondered how just how she'd react to him asking her to stay with him. Would she even want to? He doubted it. This firm knowledge struck a blow to his heart, preventing him from ever allowing the offer to form on his lips.
So that begged the question. Just where did he put her? His tree house was an option, but he didn't feel comfortable housing anyone there just yet. There was a lot of work to be done – and how could she get any privacy if he was always barging in to adjust a window pane here and work on a wall or floor board there? No, the tree house was out. So that left only one option that sprung to his mind: the den he had dug out several weeks before. He'd settled on a nice area a few minute's walk from where they were now. It was pleasant – just on the edge of a small clearing, situated amongst a copse of tall maple trees. Pleased with the area, Dahmer had dug a large den and was well on his way to making it into a perfect home when he spotted his current situation while out for a stroll. The pleasing scenery and proximity to the coast trumped the features of his other site and before the day was finished, Dahmer had moved out. But the den remained unclaimed. Surely it was acceptable for his friend?
His smirk widened into a triumphant grin as the idea occurred to him, and Dahmer set his hammer aside. He gazed down at the one he loved, keeping quiet. When his old partner remained silent, he spoke. If you have no ideas of your own, I know of a place. I dug a den a little ways from here before finding this place. It isn't nearly as awesome as my den-treehouse combo, but what can you do? He gave the wall he was working on one last inspection before jumping down to the ground below. That smile of his graced his lips once again, and he wasn't even sure why he was so happy all of a sudden. In any case, Dahmer was willing to set aside his misgivings in order to enjoy the day. The male undid the tool belt from around his waist, depositing it on his work table before turning to his friend and extending an oversized hand in an offer. So what do you say? Want to check it out?
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