Jane stood before the long staircase. He held his favorite sled in his arm. His friends had laid down two slip-and-slides over some plywood and there was a kicker at the bottom. The front door was open and a third and fourth slip-and-slide waited for him through the door.

If he’d been in his right mind, he’d be going through all the possible ways this could go wrong. All the many ways he’d end up in the hospital. The broken bones, the bruises, the abraded skin. Many different injuries could come from this one stupid stunt.

His friends had brought over the supplies. They had assembled the “ski jump”. They had brought the beer. Of course, Jane had been an adrenaline junkie before booze hit his system. Or beer for that matter. He’d always been a cocktail drinker, himself. Yet here he was way past sloshed, standing at the top of a staircase which his dad’s pet architect had designed to be grand and extravagant. Oh, it was definitely that.  The staircase started on the second floor as regular—or maybe slightly wider than regular—stairs but gradually fanned out until the bottom stair could fit an NBA basketball star lying across it. The slip-and-slides overlapped only a foot. If that said anything about the length of the staircase.

Jane was still stalling. Even with enough alcohol in his system to make him think this was a good idea, he was still scared. Then he felt someone shove him. Damn Marshal. His brother had grown impatient, probably wanting his chance at the “ski jump”. He thrust himself onto the sled and went down the haphazardly constructed ski jump.

Jane felt the rush of air as he gained speed, he felt the sudden change in direction as he hit the kicker. He felt the momentary weightlessness, and as Mother Earth finally took hold of her child once more, his brain finally realized one thing: This was going to hurt. They hadn’t really thought out the landing and the walkway up to his parents’ house was slate flagstone.

As if someone above wanted to pull  a cruel prank on him, his flightpath wasn’t headed for the slip-and-slides set up on top of the flagstone path, instead he was headed for the grass and right at a large replica of the David which his father displayed on their lavish front lawn. He touched down on the grass, the greenery cushioning the blow only somewhat, of course his sled flew out from under him and he ended up tumbling ass over ears over and over until he smacked into the dais upon which the David rested.

There was no preamble. No wobble. No maybe-it-won’t-fall-over shake that could have saved him the shit storm he was about to be at the center of when their parents came home. No. The David simply fell atop of him. Breaking apart into a multitude of small, sharp, stonework shards. Some of which cut into his skin. Staining his white fur as effectively as if he’d been dunked into a vat of red paint.

A little while later he felt his vision tunnel. He felt woozy. Then nothing. He was awash in darkness nothing around him. No Life flashing before his eyes. No pearly gates. No anthropomorphic jackal. No scales. No “out-of-body-experience” or crazy coma-induced dream-life. Just darkness.

***

Mom don’t cry. I’m right here. Why couldn’t she hear him. Why couldn’t he see. He heard the angry breathing of his father. He could hear his brothers’ quiet whimpering. He could hear the beeping of machines. He could feel the crisp, clean sheets and that he was in a bed which lifted up. He could feel a giant headache. He could feel a few bruised ribs. How’d I get those?

He could smell blood. His blood. He couldn’t really smell much of anything else. And that—more than not being able to open his eyes—felt blinding. Then a tickle of a scent slipped through. It was a welcoming scent. A calming scent. Something Jane would recognize anywhere. It was the smell of Johnathan. His human lover.

“I still can’t believe they let you in here, faggot!” Jane’s Dad raged, “You know I don’t appr—” to hear his dad yelp like that meant either Johnathan had cuffed his dad—completely unlikely—or that he’d shut Jane’s father’s yap for him. That was Jane’s guess. Johnathan was hard. No mouthy alpha wolf would intimidate him.

“You listen here, pup! I am here because I love your son. He and I are boyfriends. And I was going to ask your permission for his hand. Until now. I wanted your permission because Johnathan still respects you.

“Now I’m going to watch over the love of my life! And you are not going to do anything.”

Jane’s eyes chose this moment to let him open them. “Ow.” He said eloquently.

Considering the conversation that they’d just had; the two’s responses couldn’t have been more telling to Jane. They both rushed to Jane’s bedside. Jane’s dad stroked his headfur. Johnathan grasped his hand tightly in his own heavily tattooed hands. “Hey, Jane.” “Hey buddy.” They said almost at the same time.

They eyed each other. Jane watched as his dad bristled at the unintended challenge that Johnathan presented. “Johnathan, I…I’m sorry. I’ve…I’ve made a fool of myself. And my pack. I offer my throat and my deepest apology for how I’ve acted. I may not exactly understand it, but I don’t have to understand it to see what lay before me as obvious as the sun in the sky.” Jane watched as his father exposed his throat, suiting words to actions. “You have my blessing should you choose to accept it.”

When Jane and his friends had set out the previous night with this hairbrained scheme, he thought he might be in the emergency room with a few broken bones. Or not even. Just a couple of bruises which would hurt for a few days at most. Even still, the booze had certainly helped ease him into it. Even as dangerous as he knew the whole thing to be, it hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea after a few drinks.

He didn’t expect to veer of course, crash into his dad’s expensive statue. However, as bad as that had been and still was, something good had come of it. Johnathan had been shown to be true in his attentions toward Jane. A simple act of love. A show of affection no more intimate than clasps hands, yet even more intimate than the purest of love-makings. It was a show of true love. His dad, as crazy as he could be, couldn’t deny what had been shown right in front of him.

“Thank you for your apology, Julius. And thank you for your blessing. It means so much to the both of us.”

“Yeah…thank you, dad.” Jane parroted his boyfriend.