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</div></div><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ffcc"></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">"Fuck fuck fuck FUCK! The answer is no. Haven't you already filled your monthly quota for good deeds Ian?" Daxon cursed loudly, letting the stream of hot water hit him in the back of his neck and upper shoulders with full force while Ian pounded at the bathroom door.<br/>
<br/>
Daxon had a habit of gritting his teeth to keep from completely losing it, and old habits died hard. This time when he clenched his teeth, there was a whole lot of extra equipment in his upper jaw. Puzzled, he opened his mouth all the way open, and used his wet fingers to probe the inside of his mouth, There was bulging pulsing area near his hard palate, and another pair on each side of his upper teeth, a pair retracting downward with hollowed points.<br/>
<br/>
"Holy fucking shit. No way is this happening. No WAY!" his shrill refrain echoing off the shower walls, and the pounding on the door even more persistent than it was before.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever he was, the reason for it was standing right outside the door rattling the doorknob to be let inside the bathroom. Not that Daxon would have obliged Ian and opened the door for him, all he wanted to do was get himself clean and presentable especially since his lack of hygiene had been bluntly pointed out to him by Milo. Thinking about Milo, his mind drifted back to the guinea pigs he'd brought and set free in Ian's bedroom. The ones that Dax had snatched up, squealing, as he devoured them.<br/>
<br/>
He gagged, wanting to throw up. But it was no good, and besides the sound of the doorknob being wrenched off the doorframe diverted Daxon's attention from puking up half digested rodents in Ian's shower. His body was slippery from the water and soap he was scouring his skin with to get rid of the smell of bile, sweat and blood from his agonizing transformation.<br/>
<br/>
His green eyes darkened, as the silhouette of Dr. Ian Callaghan was spotted through the steamed over tempered glass shower frame. It was useless to protest his presence at this point, because a conversation was going to happen whether Dax wanted it or not.<br/>
<br/>
It was as if God had adjusted the colours of the world during the nights the infection was ravaging and altering his body. It was as though someone had twisted a dial on an old television set, and made everything brighter than it should have been. Even the bathroom lights formed a radiant virescent hue that burned itself into Daxon's retinas, leaving their imprint there. Ian's incessant pounding on the door made the brain within his skull bounce with every beat against the door's wooden core.<br/>
<br/>
The wave of strong energy Ian emitted as he burst into the bathroom seemed to strip all the anger and confusion from him, making his knees wobble as his back pressed against the shower tiles until he was left cringing in one corner. Ian entered the shower stall fully clothed, and the man didn't seem to give two shits that his t shirt and boxers were getting wet. With his back up against the wall, Ian towered over him with a dominant power that forced Daxon in a cowering position.<br/>
<br/>
Ian's arms lifted as he placed the palms of his hands flat against the shower wall on either side of his head. It was apparent that the face to face conversation Ian wanted to have was going to be taking place now instead of later. As much as he hated to admit it, Daxon needed Ian right now. The BMX champ turned serpent didn't have a clue what the hell to do with the hinged fangs he found in the roof of his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
His body held no further protest as Ian's arm snagged him around the waist and jerked him even closer, more possessively than before. Daxon's head turned one way to avoid looking at him, as Ian peeled off his wet clothes and slung them out onto the shower floor.  When the aversion of his eyes wasn't a clear enough indication that Daxon wasn't wanting to participate in the conversation, Ian grabbed his face and forced Dax to gaze into his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. I won't fight you. And I don't think I can walk anywhere looking like some freak with springboard fangs in his mouth. I can't go home like this, and um, this is so fucked up." Dax replied, voice cracking with so many different emotion.</span><br/><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
He ...was ...a ..muthafuckin...snake.</span></i><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
"Why did you? What made you want to do this to me?" he asked, no sign of anger in his voice, just confusion and curiosity to know the rationale.<br/>
<br/>
"How do I get rid of these things?" asked Dax, opening his mouth, his tongue running over the sharpened edge of the fangs that folded down from the roof of his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Why is the light so bright in here, and the water from the shower sounds like a waterfall in my ears?"<br/>
<br/>
Then the dam burst, and with it an outpouring of questions.<br/>
<br/>
"That smartass friend of yours, Milo? He called me a snake-boy. Is that what I am now? These things are happening because I'm a snake? Does that mean you're a snake?"<br/>
<br/>
Dax didn't know if anything could get better at this point, but things could be significantly worse.<br/>
</span><br/><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">He could have gone through all of this alone, without Ian, and with a negative outcome.</span></i>