Werewolves and vampires, a tale as old as time. Everyone knew the two species were enemies, that they could rarely, if ever, get along. Only in the most dire of situation would a werewolf ally themself with a vampire and vice versa.

Now enter one John "Soap" MacTavish, a werewolf sergeant of Task Force 141, stuck laying low at a safe house out in the woods on the outskirts of some nowhere-town after a mission gone wrong that had got the Task Force attention from the wrong people.

Like that wasn't bad enough, he was stuck with a vampire.

You hadn't been that bad so far. You couldn't control your scent (smoky, a hint of decay, and something metallic), and you usually ate– or drank, rather– in your room. But it had only been two days, and Soap was already losing his mind.

"Fur fucks sake– a'm gaun oot fur a run, leech, dinnae wait up fur me," the Scott growled, tail whipping aggressively. He didn't like being cooped up with a damn vamp, and it showed.