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McCree was always left alone in the base around the full moon. This month was no different.
No one liked to be around the base during the night off the full moon, so everyone always planned to be out for the evening before McCree shifted. While the wolf was usually friendly and a little told destructiveness its playfulness, previous incidents of injury and/or damaged personal belongings had caused the others in the base to be more than motivated to let McCree have the base to himself. This month was no different, though most of the new agents had left late, not knowing or being told why they were being so graciously encouraged to leave the watch point until the next morning.
Soon, though, the base was empty and McCree was left in the shooting range. Usually he was locked in but McCree had encouraged Winston and Athena to let him roam around on the base for the evening in hopes that if the wolf was familiarized with everyone's things it would be less destructive.
As the sun set, McCree spent his time just talking to Athena. Once the moon was high in the sky, McCree had already stripped and set his clothes in a small pile on the floor; the shift began. He grunted as he felt the pain of the shift, but it was a pain he had gotten used to long ago. The part he hated most was when his tail formed. The pain was always like a red hot iron being pressed to his ass as his bones extended and stretched, and then the fur growing.
When the shift finished the wolf shook off, soon running around in the room, barking going after the bots for a few minutes before it saw the open door. Soon he was out the door, skittering in the floors and sliding as his tail wagged a mile a minute. He went door to door, sniffing at them and smacking a hand against the door, before moving on when the door wouldn't open.
That was when he caught the smell. Peanut butter.
Ears immediately pointed forward and tail raised, McCree began to sniff around. His nose twitched as he followed the scent straight to a glass door. Hr walked straight into it, letting out a disgruntled “oof” as his face squished against it. He backed up and rubbed a hand against his muzzle, whining, before pawing at the door as it opened. Tail wagging, he ran in, nose pressed to the floor again as he walked over to Winston’s desk. He drooled all over it, looking at all the peanut butter. His tail knocked over papers and pushed things around, but soon he had his paws on the peanut butter. He pulled the tops off, not bothering to twist as he shoved his muzzle in, tongue lapping up everything inside the container. He let out happy growls and soon there was no more peanut butter left, just empty plastic jars and their lids scattered across the floor.
McCree yawned, belly full of peanut butter. He laid down on his side, and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning, McCree woke with a groan. He felt sick, and even more so when a dark blob moved to allow the light to shine brightly in his eyes.
McCree groaned, quickly covering his eyes before he heard a snort. He recognized it as Winston. He sniffed, and groaned. Peanut butter? He sat up and squinted, looking up at the black mass he now recognized as Winston...A rather unhappy Winston too.
He would have asked, but one look around the room and he could tell what he had done the night before. It was all a peanut buttery haze to him, really, but of course Winston would be upset all his peanut butter for the week was eaten.
His clothes were shoved into his arms and he quickly dressed, rushing out of the room and soon hearing Winston angrily thrash around in an angry fit.
The next week, Winston gave him the cold shoulder, and the next full moon, he found that the wolf was chasing the sound of a dog whistle all over the base.