Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Meeting at the Door/Scenting
Sam had been out surveying a property with Vincent for William for a good couple of hours and he was glad to be home. Parking his truck and hopping out, he pulled his hair into a low bun, brushing the fly-aways behind his ears. A smile slowly stretched across his face as his enhanced hearing picked up just enough to hear Darlin’s socked feet hit the hardwood floor in their bedroom. He heard them rush down the stairs, cursing a bit as they slipped on the landing halfway down. The motion-sensor lights kicked on as Sam made his way up the porch steps and the screen door flew open, revealing Darlin as they stepped out on the porch to greet him. He could tell they were trying to play it cool, like they had just happened to be passing by the door as he just happened to be making his way to it.

“Hey, Darlin.” Sam grinned, kicking the last bit of construction-site dust off his boots on the last step.

Darlin’s arms crossed over their chest and they smiled in turn. They were wearing a shirt Sam could’ve sworn he dropped in the hamper the previous morning and a pair of his boxers along with a mismatched pair of their own socks. He cocked a brow, gathering Darlin in his arms, with just enough distance between the two of them to fix them with a playful stare.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” He started, cupping the back of his shifter’s neck. “But I believe that this shirt was not on a hanger when I left and I believe that these… shorts you're wearin' don’t belong to you.” Sam rubbed his calloused fingers at the base of Darlin’s skull.

They responded in turn by leaning into his hand and closing their eyes. When their eyes opened again, Darlin fixed Sam with a stare of their own. Puppy dog eyes. Sam didn’t think they even knew they were doing it, or knew what it did to him. They leaned up and kissed him.

“Well, what’s mine is yours, Cowboy.” They said in a mock drawl. “What happened to your southern hospitality?” They smiled dangerously, pulling him inside as a cross breeze brought up goosebumps on their werewolf-warm skin.

Once the two of them were inside, Darlin pulled Sam into a real hug, breathing his scent in. Sam could’ve melted, pressing a kiss onto the top of Darlin’s head, smiling stupidly. He gently toyed with the hair at the nape of their neck as they took deep gulping breaths of his scent in. He knew they didn’t know they were doing it, but their nose roamed his chest and arms. Suddenly they pulled away, a disgusted look on their face.

“Ugh, you smell like burnt rubber,” They stated plainly, pulling out of his arms and making their way to the kitchen, a finger held under their nose. “You have to shower before you do anything else. I’ll put some coffee on.”

Sam barked out a laugh, toeing off his boots and tossing his keys on the coffee table.

“Well the property we were checking out used to be a race track. Will wants to turn it into some kind of spa resort or something.” He came up behind them at the counter, wrapping his arms around their waist and pressing soft kisses to the side of their neck. Their nose curled.

“Won’t catch me there unless he can get rid of that smell.” Darlin pulled away from Sam again, beginning to gather all of Sam’s coffee things as well as mugs for the two of them. “I love you very much, Sammy, but you have to shower. I’m pretty sure you’ve singed the inside of my nose.” They griped.

Sam rolled his eyes, pulling off his shirt as he made his way upstairs to their shared bathroom.

“Damn wolf nose…” He muttered, turning the shower on as hot as it would go.

“I heard that!”

—
Ear scratches/Stretching/Puppy-talk
The sun was just barely dipping below the horizon as Darlin’s alarm went off, making them groan, slapping their bedside table in an attempt to either silence the damn thing or manage to hit the snooze button. They curled up impossibly small, worming their way over to Sam’s side of the bed until their head found his chest. They nuzzled close, unashamed of their affection in their sleepy state. A large hand found their head and rubbed, gentle but firm.

“Mornin’.” Sam murmured. Darlin could hear the smile on his lips. They weren’t sure how he could possibly be a morning – or night, rather– person. Both their sleep schedules were fucked, Darlin’s moreso. Sam was mostly nocturnal, but Darlin was far from it; they slept and rose based on whatever gigs David had them scheduled for. Tonight would be an overnight job.

They grunted in return, pushing further into Sam’s hand, encouraging him to rub harder. Sam obliged, smiling bright as his Darlin relaxed into his touch. They were always susceptible to any kind of petting, though he knew that he could never call it that. He scratched his short nails behind their ear on a whim. Darlin gasped and sighed deeply, practically crawling on top of Sam in an attempt to get closer.
Sam chuckled, deep in his chest, bringing up his other hand to get behind their other ear before reaching over to flick on the bedside lamp. He was met with an impressive glare in return, their eyes glazed over with drowsiness and what could be considered wanting. Their cheeks were pink as they were still sleep-warm and their pupils blown out. Sam cocked his head, a sleepy smile of his own gracing his lips.

“What’s a’matter, Darlin?” He questioned innocently. “Want some more scratches?” He brushed some loose hair behind their ears, fully ready to continue what he started.

Instead, Darlin huffed, pinching their eyes shut and shaking their head. They removed themselves from Sam’s warmth, crawling off the bed. Darlin stretched their arms and legs as Sam propped himself up against their headboard to watch. He scratched at his stubble, watching his mate do their thing. He heard a couple cracks as they reached down to touch their toes.

“Ohh, big stretch…” He murmured mindlessly, throwing his legs over the bed to begin his own evening stretches. The wolf was suddenly at his side, scowling deeply as they put a finger to his chest.

“Knock it off with all that ‘happy puppy’ bullshit or I’ll turn into that ‘happy puppy’ and tear your favorite boots to shreds.” Darlin’s nostrils flared as they threatened him, watching him stand to tower over them. They leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, shoving him back down on the bed. Darlin turned to retrieve their towel from its hook in the closet, retreating into the en suite bathroom.

“Hopping in the shower, love you!” They called, not bothering to close the door behind them.

They pretended not to hear Sam laughing to himself as he stood back up.

—
Pack mentality/Scenting/Protective nature
Darlin had known of Vincent and Lovely for a lot longer than they had actually known the two of them personally. It had taken a long time for Sam to get them out of their shell enough to even consider interacting with anyone from the Solaire clan, given their complicated history with vampires. However, once given permission, Sam had shared parts of Lovely’s similarly complicated history with vampires. Once that was out in the open, Darlin quickly became more open to the idea of seeing more of the clan.

Meeting Vincent came first, as he stopped by fairly often to bring Sam his blood supply. After Darlin had moved in, they would skulk just behind Sam in the doorway, watching Vincent’s movements carefully as he passed off the cooler filled with blood-bags. He had tried to be kind, greeting them with a friendly hello and introducing himself formally. Darlin had merely huffed in return and took another step closer to Sam.
As Vincent kept coming by, the longer he stayed and the longer Darlin allowed him to stay, carefully sniffing him each time he came inside. Eventually, the suspicion wore off and the two got on very easily, trading embarrassing stories about Sam until he was red in the face while the two laughed.

After Vincent, came Lovely. Knowing what they did about Vincent's partner, Darlin attempted to be more gentle with them than they’d been with Vincent. Surprising both of their lovers, Darlin and Lovely were incredibly fast friends. And surprising everyone, Darlin was nearly as physical with Lovely as they were with Sam, constantly holding their hand, sitting practically on top of each other and even subtly rubbing their scent up against Lovely when they could. It was good for both of them, having someone who understood their problems and trust issues and Sam couldn’t be happier that his mate had found someone beyond himself and the bickering brothers they had within their pack.

Game night was a new development for Sam and now he had two of them that he regularly attended. One with the Shaw pack at the beginning of each month and one with Vincent and Lovely towards the middle of each month. This night was no different than any other night. Sam and Darlin had spent a large part of the afternoon and well into the evening in Vincent and Lovely’s kitchen bickering over Monopoly money and gorging themselves on cheap food before migrating to the living room for video games. While Vincent and Sam could go for hours without getting bored (Vincent enjoyed teaching Sam any new games he found in an attempt to keep up with the times), Lovely and Darlin had simply turned to talking, holding hands and cuddling under an old quilt.

After giving up on a multiplayer game, Sam and Vincent came to find their partners curled up together on the overly plush couch, dozing off. In the dim light, they could see Darlin’s arms hooked around Lovely’s waist. Sam had seen them do the same thing with Asher after last year’s Solstice party ran into the early hours of the morning. Both their voices quieted instantly at the sight and they both pulled out their phones to snap a quick picture of the two. Vincent was the first to reach down to rouse his partner, while Sam went about turning off the gaming system and collecting his and Darlin’s things.

“Lovely, baby, let’s get you into bed, alright…” Vincent mused and Sam could hear the smile in his voice. He rubbed their shoulder softly and they sleepily nodded along, lifting their arms to be picked up. Foolishly, he reached down to pull Darlin’s arms from his partner’s waist as gently as possible. Before Sam could warn against it, Darlin’s eyes snapped open and they snarled, pulling Lovely closer without a second thought.

They bared their too-sharp teeth instinctively, an animalistic growl rumbling in their chest before realizing exactly who they were protecting and from whom they were protecting them from. Vincent quickly pulled his hands back, holding them up in defense. The growl cut short and Darlin’s eyes were wide, blushing and quickly pulling away from Lovely. They murmured a quick apology and ran to Sam’s side, a guilty and embarrassed look in their eyes. Sam simply chuckled lightly and rubbed their back comfortingly. The only time you could get his Darlin’ to act borderline timid, was when they’d been woken up unexpectedly.

He made a point not to mention his mate’s protective nature on the car ride home.

—
Digging holes/Fetch/Pack Mentality
Sam sighed, pulling his reading glasses off the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes. He’d finally finished some paperwork that he’d been pushing off in favor of spending quality time with Darlin. But, Darlin was working an event at D.A.M.N that day and he’d finally forced himself to get it done. He pushed himself away from his well-organized desk in his office and made his way down to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Sam leaned against the counter, typing out a message to William to inform him that he’d finished the paperwork. Half-way through his message, his phone vibrated and a picture of Darlin dead-asleep curled up on the couch filled the screen. Sam smiled and answered.

“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He mused, smiling and pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear. He flipped on the sink to wash out a mug that had quickly become his favorite after Darlin had gifted it to him. It featured Edward Cullen from a movie series he’d somehow been roped into watching with Asher. The words “This is the skin of a killer, Bella” were scrawled across the mug. He hadn’t understood it at the time, but it was funny now.

“Hey Sam, is it cool if a friend comes over for a bit? We’ll probably just hang out in the backyard or something.” Darlin explained quickly. He could hear muffled voices in the background as well as cars starting up. The event must’ve ended a bit early and everyone was headed home now. “It’s totally cool if not, we can hang out another time.” He heard them chewing on the inside of their cheek.

“Sure that’s fine, Darlin, should I put some food on? I know the pack’s usually hungry after a job, who all’s comin’?” Sam turned off the sink and began rummaging through the cupboard in search of enough food to feed a hungry group of wolves. “Dunno if I have enough for both Ash and David, but I could whip up something small.”

He heard a small inhale, causing him to pause and stand up straight.

“Darlin is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” They stated plainly, and Sam could hear them playing with their keys. “It’s just…It’s not anyone from the pack, they’re all busy now. It’s someone I met…like just met at the event. Name’s Huxley, he’s a student here but he was volunteering and we got to talking and babe he actually beat me in an arm wrestle! David can’t even do that! He asked if I wanted to hang afterwards and I said I’d ask.” Darlin explained, the words rushing out once they got talking.

Sam’s jaw hung open a bit. With how closed off his mate was, he was surprised that anyone managed to get past the whole ‘scary security guard’ persona they put on while on a job. He rubbed at his stubble, a smile slowly coming onto his face.

“Well, is this ‘Huxley’ gonna be hungry, because there’s still not much here unless you wanna stop by the store on y’all’s way back.” Sam did his best to hide his excitement. It was so rare that someone actually pushed past Darlin’s walls, let alone a complete stranger. But if he were to let on how proud and happy he was, if he were to make it a big deal, Darlin would likely shut the whole thing down.

Darlin’ breathed a sigh of relief and Sam could hear them jamming their keys into their bike.

“Nah, there was free food for volunteers at the event and I’ll eat a bit later. We’ll be there in like 20. Hux! We’re good-” He heard his mate shouting before the line cut.

Turns out there was a good reason why Huxley could beat Darlin in an arm wrestle. The man towered even over Sam and he was built like a power-athlete. He practically had to duck to get inside the door. Sam tried to pretend he wasn’t a bit shocked. After brief introductions, Darlin and their new friend retreated to the backyard. After giving them a bit of time to settle, Sam followed, staying under the awning on the back porch and out of the sun. The new sight brought a smile to his face.

Huxley, evidently, was an earth elemental. And Darlin, evidently not feeling shy about their newfound friendship had shifted and the two of them were digging holes big enough to be bathtubs. Sam found he didn’t even mind that they were tearing up his carefully cultivated lawn. He settled down into his rocker to watch, though he pretended that he totally wasn’t watching.

After an hour or so, Darlin shifted back and the two of them were covered head-to-toe in dirt, which Huxley very graciously cleaned off with his magic. He even put all the dirt back where it was supposed to go, though the grass would have to be regrown. They were both laughing uproariously, shoving each other and smiling bright enough to rival the sun.

The sun was beginning to set and the sky was bright orange, but all three of them unilaterally decided to stay outside, relaxing in the cooling air.

Huxley and Sam settled down into the rockers on the porch while Darlin stood by the steps, chatting along with them. Sam got caught up talking with Hux about school, which professors were still there and which had left, what had changed since Sam had been there. He rolled a stick under his boot before kicking it away, laughing at something Huxley said.

Unconsciously, Darlin picked up the stick and handed it back to Sam as they responded in turn, laughing along with Sam. His eyebrows furrowed and he tossed the stick into the yard, continuing his conversation. Very calmly, Darlin trotted out into the yard to retrieve it and handed it back to Sam.

“So, do you only do earth elemental classes, or do you do other stuff too?” Darlin asked, they’d never been to D.A.M.N and had only heard a few things about the actual curriculum. Sam stared at the stick in his hand, very confused. He chucked it a bit further this time, just to the treeline. Darlin didn’t wait to hear Hux’s answer, heading off without another thought to bring the stick back. Even Huxley was confused now.

“Are they…playing fetch?” He cocked his head to the side, watching them as they reached the treeline. “I thought wolf shifters weren’t anything like dogs, at least that’s what they teach us in our Magic Species class.” Darlin started back, a bright smile on their face at having found the same stick.

“This is the first I’m seein’ it.” Sam admitted, chuckling. “Looks like it, though. I don’t think they know they’re doin’ it. I’ll chuck it pretty far this time, see if that’s really what they’re doin’.” Huxley nodded, chuckling himself.

Darlin dropped the stick in Sam’s lap and sat down on the top step, smiling and asking Hux another question about school. Sam waited a few minutes before throwing the stick again, putting just a bit of vampiric strength behind it. It looked like it landed a few hundred yards into the treeline and Darlin watched it fly. They stood with a sigh and bounded down the steps to get the stick back.

Huxley and Sam burst out laughing, watching them go. They were gone for a good 5 minutes before they came jogging back, pine needles in their hair. Darlin still didn’t quite seem to realize what they were doing as they handed the stick back to Sam before settling down between his legs and resting their head on his thigh. Sam and Huxley were both trying not to laugh at their expense, Sam reaching down to pat their head lovingly.

“Good job, Darlin.” He said plainly before Hux burst out laughing once more, blushing at his own outburst. Sam laughed in turn, hiding his a bit better. Darlin glanced between the two of them, frowning.

“What?” They questioned, cocking their head. “Is there something on my face?” Neither of the boys could answer, trying to calm themselves down.

“Are you guys messing with me?”

Chapter Text

It took a while to convince Sam to begin coming to pack meetings, let alone pack hangouts, but once he came to one, all meetings and group events happened exclusively after dark. It was David and Asher’s attempt in making Sam feel more welcome which in turn kept Darlin hanging around as well. It was a win-win in both their eyes. Ash got one of his best friends back, plus a bonus friend, and David got his pseudo-sibling back so he could keep a better eye on them. And if the timing of pack meetings got some of the teens babysitting money, for watching the younger kids during them, David was perfectly fine with that.

It started out slow at first, just Sam attending pack meetings occasionally, and claiming he was busy for any less-formal invitations. But as time wore on, Darlin’s insistence that he tag along to everything only grew. It was good for both of them. Darlin’s pack bonds were renewing and it seemed as if Sam had been accepted as an unofficial member of the pack. He’d even been added into ‘the Mates Group Chat’, which consisted of David, Asher, and Milo’s mates and now Sam as well. With how outgoing the three were, Sam often had the group chat silenced, but when he did look at it, he always came away feeling just a bit scandalized. There were things about his three new friends that he simply didn’t need to know.

There were some things about pack life that Sam was getting used to for the first time though, and Darlin was readjusting as well. One thing was the overall touchiness of the pack. Sam wouldn’t say it made him jealous, but he certainly was surprised when his friends hung off his mate, cuddling, play-fighting, and other simple forms of affection. He was even more surprised with how long Darlin tolerated it and even reciprocated it. The wrestling wasn’t so much of a surprise, but the hugs and cuddles were. When the two of them first got together It took several weeks for them to be comfortable with Sam doing anything of the sort and it took even longer for them to initiate it – they sometimes still wouldn’t. But David especially was the one who received the most tolerance. The two of them hugged upon arrival and before leaving anything and Darlin tended to gravitate towards him if Sam wasn’t nearby to curb their anxieties.

Another thing was scenting. As soon as Sam was inside at the first meeting he attended, Milo and Asher swarmed them, pulling Darlin into their easygoing atmosphere. Sam stood a bit on the outskirts, observing. Darlin was still quite stiff, an obvious guiltiness in their eyes, over what specifically Sam didn’t know. He watched carefully as both Ash and Milo rubbed up close to Darlin’s sides, scenting them and each other. It was definitely a wolf thing, wanting to smell like those close to you. Sam couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught Darlin rubbing his clothes up against the side of their neck, or on lazy mornings when they’d snuggle close to his neck and nuzzle for a while, leaving their smell lingering in his nose and on his skin. They couldn’t get enough of Sam, but they only bear with the boys for a while before shoving them off and complaining about personal space. After finding a seat, Darlin sat as close as possible, laying their head on his arm and pretending the meeting was boring them, but Sam felt them rubbing up against him every so often, trying to regulate their scent back to their new normal. He smiled and slung an arm around their shoulder.

After a couple months of being back with the pack and David hiring them onto the security crew, Darlin became much more comfortable with pack-life as a whole. They became comfortable enough to initiate touch and scenting with Ash, David, and Milo, and even their mates, though none of them could quite grasp the concept of scenting as a whole. Sam knew that the boys scented their mates obsessively, not only from what he knew of Darlin’s habits, but just watching. There was an easy way they snuggled with their mates, kissed their necks, and rubbed their cheeks along the top of their heads. Though the mates didn’t fully understand scenting, Sam got the gist of it. It was all about saying to anyone who could smell, “this is mine and unless you’re prepared to deal with the consequences, better not mess with it.” Sam had yet to be scented by any of the pack outside of Darlin, but it didn’t bother him any. He got enough shit from Vincent about not smelling quite like a vampire anymore as it was.

When a particular pack meeting finished a bit early, the four couples found themselves gathered around a bonfire in David and his mate’s backyard, laughing and just having fun with each other. It had been months since Sam’s first meeting, but most of them ended like this in some way or another. Asher, Milo, and Darlin were all taking turns wrestling in their wolf forms, while David mediated to make sure nothing got too intense, his arm slung around his mates shoulders as they drowned in his leather jacket. The three wolves found a large dead branch and played tug with it for a while. Milo’s mate laughed loudly as Darlin and Asher lifted the branch high enough that Milo hung from it, not quite sure what to do with himself. After tiring themselves out, the three shifted back and snuggled up with their mates. Darlin was obviously getting tired, but said nothing of it, simply hanging happily from Sam’s side.

“I’m headed inside for drinks, anyone want anything?” David announced, pulling away from his mate with a whispered “Sorry, Angel” that only Sam could hear. Everyone piped up with yeses or nos.

“We’ll share a water, thanks, David.” Sam said, rubbing his mate’s arm lovingly. Darlin gave Sam an incredulous look, their nose curling up.

“I never said I wanted anything.” They said, raising an eyebrow at Sam. They crossed their arms over their chest, pulling away from him just a bit. They weren’t mad, just liked stirring the pot.

“I know, but you just wrestled with these guys for a while then chewed on a stick, you’re bound to be thirsty. And I knew you weren’t gonna say nothin’, so I took matters into my own hands.” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow right back at them. Darlin scrunched their nose at him. Sam reached out to pet their cheek and they playfully nipped at his fingers before sighing and went off in search of acorns to toss in the fire. Asher came up to Sam and bumped their hips together, slinging his arm around Sam’s shoulders. He was probably the only person here aside from David that could reach high enough to do so.

“Good to know someone’s finally tamed our Tanker!” Asher exclaimed, nuzzling close to Sam. “Never seen anyone talk to ‘em like that and get away with it. ‘Cept for maybe David, but he gets a free pass cuz he’s alpha.” He explained simply, smiling brightly at Sam and chuckling. Sam beamed back. While he didn’t doubt his position within the pack, no one had ever been this physically close with him before. And he’d heard the pups saying he smelled weird behind his back before his Darlin chased them off.

“Takes a special hand for sure,” He said, smiling at the thought of how special he must’ve been to Darlin for them to allow their sky-high walls down for him. “Though, I wouldn’t recommend you do what I just did. Do as I say, not as I do, right?” Sam laughed, imagining the fight that would ensue if Asher were to try.

“Oh trust me, I believe ya, Sam. When we were younger, no one could tell ‘em anything. Well, besides Gabe. There was one time Christian tried asking ‘em out in high school and the fucker wouldn’t take no for an answer. Like I’m talking at least once every couple days he was bringin’ ‘em flowers, makin’ signs, I think he even burnt ‘em a CD!” Asher was laughing, but Sam was borderline horrified, his eyes wide. “So finally, Tank had enough and tackled him and started beating his ass and obviously they won, I mean you’ve seen Chrissy Pissy he’s pretty scrawny, but they both got suspended and Gabe tore into their asses and they both had to set up and put away all the chairs after pack meetings for the rest of the year!”

Asher laughed hard, leaning against Sam for support and Sam felt a small bit of pride for his mate, knowing they could take care of business when they needed to. Ash’s scent flooded his senses. It was sharp and sweet, like lemonade and rosemary and superficially like the expensive perfume his mate wore. Sam didn’t mind, finding it a bit endearing that Asher cared enough to be the first of the pack to come close enough to scent him. He wrapped an arm around Asher’s waist to hold him steady as he threatened to tip over in his uproarious laughter.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Sam turned to catch a glimpse of Darlin staring at the two of them. He dropped his arm from Asher, but the other was yet to catch on. Milo caught on before Ash did, laughing.

“Ooh, Ash you better back off, I think Tanka over there thinks you’re oversteppin’ your bounds.” He warned, pointing behind the two of them at Tank. Sam wasn’t worried for his own sake but for Asher’s, especially when the wolf responded with a ‘pssh’ and a wave of the hand. He pushed closer into Sam’s side and even went as far as to bare his neck and rub it up against Sam’s shoulder. It was by no means an intimate place like the neck or face, but the vampire actually blushed, staring down at Asher, his silver eyes wide. Tank came around to face their mate and Asher, their nostrils flaring as they took in Ash’s scent mingling with Sam’s. Their anger was something to behold, something calm but terrifying. Their eyebrows pushed together and their upper lip twitched.

“Ash…” Darlin and Sam said in unison, Sam nudging Asher’s head as gently as he could. It wasn’t something they’d ever talked about, but he now had a feeling that the others definitely did not have permission, explicit or otherwise, to scent him.

“Chill, Tank, s’all good, I just figure if he’s gonna be around so much, people should know who he belongs to!” Ash explained, as if it was that easy. Darlin took a couple steps forward and shoved Ash, flashing their teeth in warning. It was ballsy, Tank being below Ash in terms of pack hierarchy, threatening him like that.

“Ash, seriously, knock it off now. I will not hesitate to beat your ass into the ground. Just…go scent your own mate.” Darlin was trying to deescalate the situation, an action that didn’t happen often, but made Sam go warm with pride.

“They’re probably right, Asher.” He probed, smiling gently. “You can try another time, maybe after y’all’ve talked it over.” Sam did his best to make it clear that he didn’t mind Asher scenting him, but he’d rather him go through the correct avenues to do so.

“No, it’s alright, Sammy, if you’re Tank’s then you’re ours too!” Asher clearly had not caught on to how serious Tank was being and was intent on pushing buttons. He raised his wrist and brought it up to the pulse point in Sam’s neck.

“Ash, don’t!” Milo called, pulling away from his mate and approaching the group of three. His mate grabbed David’s and the two made their way inside to find David. There was a rush of motion beside Sam and he backed up beside Milo, watching the scene unfold.

Tank had tackled Asher and the two were rolling in the grass, taking hits at each other while Tank berated Ash in a growly voice. Ash in turn, seemed to finally realize the situation he found himself in and was apologizing profusely, but still fighting back. Neither Sam nor Milo were confident enough to try and break it up.

“Least they’re not shifted, that could’ve been bad. Don’t think David and his mate want their yard torn to shreds.” Milo mused, hands on his hips. Sam nodded in agreement.

“Ya know, I really didn’t mind Asher doin’ all that. I was startin’ to think that y’all thought I stunk or something. Darlin scents me all the time.” He explained, frowning. “I know it’s a pack thing. I’ve seen y’all do it to each other and each other’s mates. Mate scents stick around longer, but y’all smell like one another.”

“Oh trust me, we know that Tanka scents you. Even the pups know it and they don’t even got wolf noses yet.” Milo barked out a laugh. “You smell exactly like ‘em. We can still smell you underneath, but Tank’s is the first whiff, ya get me?”

“So why’re they so upset that Ash scented me too?” Sam asked quietly.

“Well, I doubt you need me to tell you this, but Tank’s a bit slow to trust. They probably didn’t think of you as a mate until more recently. And when you take a mate, the instinct in ya head just screams that everyone needs to know that your mate belongs to you. Easiest way to do it is by scentin’ ‘em. Best guess is that Tank wasn’t ready to share that privilege with Ash yet. I wouldn’t worry too much, I’d probably beat his ass six ways to sunday if he did that to Sweetheart before I was ready.” Sam’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and he nodded along, understanding.

Suddenly, David was in front of them and marching over to the two on the ground. Asher had the upper hand at the moment, straddling Tank and trying to hold their hands down. Blood ran freely over his upper lip. David balled up the back of his beta’s shirt and dragged him off with one hand and placed a boot on Tank’s chest to keep them from following their target.

“He’s mine, Ash! Mine!” They clawed at David’s boot as it sunk in what deep shit they were really in.

“I said I get it! Jesus! I think you broke my nose!” Ash whined, clutching at his nose. David set Ash down and allowed Tank to scramble to their feet. They wiped at their mouth, their hand coming back bloody. Ash sniffed, groaning as he spit out a mouthful of blood.

“I can’t believe you two! I go inside for five minutes to get you guys something to drink and then mine and Milo’s mates come rushing inside to tell me that it looked like there was gonna be a fight?” David’s arms were crossed and his brows furrowed. “What are you guys, twelve? You know damn well how to use your words. I expect better out of you two, especially you, Ash!”

The two of them looked ashamed, Darlin was nursing a split lip and Ash held the neck of his shirt under his nose. Neither of them could meet David’s eyes, looking anywhere but him or their respective mates. Asher’s mate took a similar stance to David, arching an eyebrow at him when he finally worked up the courage to look at them. They both mumbled through apologies, not bothering to explain themselves. David sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Both of you, you’re on setup and tear down duty from now until the next solstice. Every pack meeting, I want you here at least half an hour early and you’ll stay until everything is cleaned up. Now, I’m going back inside to actually grab drinks. Do I need to call Marie or is this something Sam can handle?” David gestured to the scrapes they were both sporting.

“Sam.” Came the unanimous decision, both shivering at the thought of Marie being called back to deal with the aftermath of their scuffle.

“Good.” He turned to Sam. “You can heal them after they go back inside to clean up.”

—

It took about half an hour to stack all the chairs, vacuum and put away the heavy oak podium David spoke from at the meetings. It was mostly quiet but as they closed the closet doors together, Asher sighed. He scratched at the dried blood on his lip.

“Sorry I scented Sam.” Ash said ashamedly. “I thought you’d be chill with it, but I didn’t listen when you warned me. You had every right to hit me.” He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, groaning in pain. Tank joined him, leaning their head gingerly on his shoulder.

“Sorry I hit you for scenting Sam.” They whispered. “I shouldn’t be so possessive. He’s been part of the pack for a while now, I just wasn’t ready for things to change.” Asher laid his head on top of his friend’s.

“I know it’s been hard on you, coming back to us and everything. And Sam’s been your safe space in it all. I get why you wouldn’t want me to change anything about him, especially his scent. I was just ready for things to go back to how they used to be. When we were kids, it was a lot easier.” He sighed, locking his long pinky in with Tank’s. “Things aren’t ever gonna be how they used to be, huh?”

Tank pulled their head away from Ash’s shoulder and stared down at their entwined fingers, willing themself not to cry. They sniffed and wiped at their nose, playing it off like they might have had a bloody nose too. They smiled at him sadly.

“I think I’m a little too fucked up for easy nowadays.” Tank said, pulling the two of them up. “Now let’s go find Sam, I need to apologize and my lip still hasn’t stopped bleeding. You got a good couple hits in but you need to learn how to use more than just your hands, I’ll have to teach you sometime…” They trailed off, making their way to the back door. Asher caught their shoulder.

“I don’t think you’re fucked up, Tank.” He said in a low voice. He pulled them into a tight hug, rubbing his cheek into their hair. It was a couple seconds before Tank melted into the hug, hiding their tears in Asher’s chest and looping their arms around his waist.

If they both turned up to Sam looking a little misty-eyed, no one mentioned it.

Chapter Text

     It had been almost a week since Tank had fully unpacked and moved in with Sam, though they’d been staying most nights there long before that. They were thoroughly enjoying their new home, the big kitchen, the backyard with its big covered porch and old rocking chairs, and especially the path that led deep into the forest with its towering pine trees and stream. Their favorite thing by far, however, was that everything smelled and felt like Sam. His big suede couch, the soft rug in front of the fireplace, even the way his closet was set up. Tank was unashamed to admit that they spent a lot of time in his closet, scenting themselves with his clothes and pulling things out of the hamper to wear when they were fresh out of the shower. 

     Naptime was a new luxury that they hadn’t had in a very long time. Once it reached the wee hours of the morning, their energy started to fade and Sam was an expert at tricking them under a quilt with the promise of a movie and they were like putty in his hands. His Darlin never made it past the opening act before they were snoring softly, head in Sam’s lap as he played with their hair. This particular evening, after a too-long week, Sam joined them, resting his head on a throw pillow and pulling his mate on top of him, between his legs with their head on his chest, so he could continue petting the back of their head as he drifted off himself. 

     The sound of a car door shutting roused Tank before Sam. They shot straight up, landing the heels of their hands in Sam’s stomach, waking him with a pained groan. He clutched his front with one hand and rubbed at his face with the other

     “Christ that hurt, Darlin, wha’s a’matter?” He grumbled, peeling his eyes open to read his mate’s panicked expression. They were knelt between his legs, sniffing at the air. 

     “There’s someone here, a vampire.” Tank whispered, their eyebrows furrowing. Sam tried sitting up before ultimately deciding not to. He placed a hand on the wolf’s hip, trying to coax them back down. 

     “Darlin, that’s just me, now cuddle up, you left me freezin’ down here.” Sam groaned but Tank pushed his hand away and stood, suddenly very awake. 

     “Not you, I know what you smell like!” They hissed. “Outside, they’re coming up the steps.” A knock sounded at the door and Darlin jumped, settling back down on the couch, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Sam simply glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. He groaned and rubbed at his face again, swinging his legs off the couch and making his way to the door. 

     “That’ll be Vincent. Ran outta blood this mornin’, Will probably sent him with some more.” Sam explained, flipping the locks. 

     “But-but I don’t know Vincent!” They whispered, coming up behind him and gripping the back of his shirt tightly. 

     The door flung open, bringing in a cross breeze with it. Goosebumps raised on Tank’s skin and they pressed closer to Sam, hoping their go to ‘I’ll kill you’ face diminished the whole ‘child hiding behind their mother’ look they couldn’t help but notice they were sporting. 

     Vincent was taller than Sam and was built like a dancer, muscular and lithe. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, but not in the casual way Sam pulled it off, he looked regal. Like secret service, or a prince, rather. He almost looked unreal, but not in the gruff and overly rude way like most vampires they’d known. Vincent held himself like nothing, not even the air, could touch him. Confident and poised and demanding attention. The only thing that disrupted his look was the bright blue cooler he held in one hand. 

     “Hey, Vin’.” Sam said simply, his voice grumbly with sleep.

     “Oh jeez, did I wake you up? You’re not normally asleep at this hour.” He glanced down at his watch, then back at Sam. “Well anyways, Will sent me over with these, they should last a week or two, but ya know, keep me posted.” He held out the cooler for Sam to take. Tank clocked the movement, coming out from behind Sam a bit on instinct, ready to protect if needed. The taller vampire’s eyes crossed to them as they moved. Sam hardly noticed, taking the cooler gingerly from Vincent.

     “S’not a big deal, Vin’, just a long week. We were takin’ a nap.” He explained, flipping the lid of the cooler open to count the blood bags. Vincent largely ignored him, his eyes carefully trained on the new person in Sam’s house. 

     “Oh, hi! It’s Tank, right? Sam mentioned you guys were finally done unpacking!” Vincent smiled brightly and looked to Sam for confirmation before moving back to them. “I thought I heard another voice inside. I’m Vincent, it’s really nice to meet you!” He stuck out his hand again, for a handshake. His skin was pale and his wrist a patchwork of water-color veins. Tank glanced at it, then back up at the older vampire, slinking further behind Sam again.

     “Hi.” Was all they could muster, hoping they sounded intimidating. Vincent pulled his hand back, a frown crossing his features before he was back to smiling again. 

     “This all looks great, Vincent, thanks. I’ll walk ya back to your car.” Sam intercepted their conversation, if you could call it that. He set the cooler down just inside the door and gently patted Darlin’s arm until they let go of his shirt. They blushed lightly, not having noticed they were still holding it. He walked out with Vincent to his sleek, expensive car. Tank could hear them talking once they got there, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They stood in the doorway and watched carefully, twisting a strand of hair between their thumb and forefinger. 

     Sam waited until Vincent was at the end of the driveway before he turned around and made his way back up to the house. As soon as he was on the porch, Tank pushed their way into his arms and nosed at his shirt, their face overly warm. He pet the back of their head, scratching gently at their scalp. 

     “I’m real sorry, Darlin.” Sam said lowly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of their head. “I figured you’d be asleep when he swung by and I kinda forgot when I laid down with ya. Still shoulda said somethin’. I know you’re not overly fond a’ strangers.” He squeezed them tightly. 

     Tank sighed, somewhat dreamily. They’d never known or loved anyone who got them the same way Sam did. Most times, he didn’t even need to ask, he just knew what was needed and how to handle it. They pulled the two of them inside and Sam laughed, kicking the door shut behind him. He swayed the two of them back and forth gently on the rug, humming and squeezing them before he felt their heartbeat slowing back down again. Sam kissed their head again, watching as they pulled away to look at him with tired eyes. He pet their cheek gently, cupping their face. 

     “I really am sorry. I’ll let you know the next time he comes over, even put a reminder in my phone for it.” He smiled gently. “Or, better yet, I could go get it myself. Skyside ain’t that far of a run.” Tank scoffed and pulled away, curling back up on the couch with a yawn wide enough to crack their jaw. 

     “Sam, Skyside’s on the other side of town, I’m not letting you run there. Least not without me.” Sam could’ve melted into a vaguely cowboy shaped pile of goo. He smiled. “Besides, it’s your house. You’re allowed to have guests. You said Vincent’s like a brother to you, you deserve to see him when you wanna see him. I might just be conspicuously absent or have a pack meeting that night.” They cracked a smile, chuckling at their own joke. Sam walked past, ruffling their hair and making his way to the kitchen after collecting the cooler. 

     “Oh please, I know you’d rather light yourself on fire than go to a pack meeting without me.” Sam laughed at his mate’s offended look, their nose all scrunched up at him. “Now, you want some hot chocolate, or am I just putting on another pot of coffee?” 

—

     The first few handoffs went down similarly each time, Tank glaring from behind Sam’s shoulder and Vincent aiming to be friendly. But after a month or two, Sam had invited him inside to chat for a bit. There had been snow on the ground and he’d offered a hot cup of coffee for his friend.

     Darlin watched Sam step aside to let the other vampire inside and stepped aside as well, reminding themselves that it wasn’t just their home and it wasn’t fair to Sam if they never allowed visitors. Vincent politely stomped the snow off of his boots on the rug and toed them off, easily making his way inside to the kitchen to start the coffee himself. Tank watched him go, cutting off a low growl that threatened to come from their mouth. Sam slung an arm around their shoulders, a serious look replacing the smile he’d had earlier. 

     “Do you wanna stay down here and chat, or do you wanna go upstairs and put your headphones on? Vincent’d love to meet you, but I understand if you’re not ready.” His voice was low in an attempt to keep their conversation private. 

     He rubbed their upper arm gently and their face melted a bit. It was easy to take for granted how gentle and understanding their mate was. Darlin liked when Sam gave them options, it made making decisions much easier. They looked at him intently and considered the options. They’d spoken briefly about Sam’s desire for them to get to know his family and outside of Alexis, Darlin had agreed to it, but had yet to act on it. They chewed on their bottom lip nervously. 

     “Will you make me some hot chocolate? Dunno if I’ll talk much but I wanna sit with you.” Darlin leaned into Sam’s warm solid frame, cutting eye contact and instead pressing their face to his side, taking in a breath of his calming scent. Coffee grounds and sawdust and something a bit sharper that they couldn’t quite place. They heard him take in a surprised breath of his own. 

     “Course I will, Darlin. Anything.” He pressed a kiss to the top of their head and pulled the two of them into the kitchen to catch up with Vincent. 

     Sam never half-assed his coffee and didn’t half-ass the hot chocolate he made for Darlin. He always made it from scratch for them. He and Vincent chatted amongst themselves while Darlin watched carefully, clocking any movement the older vampire made. Sam had been polite enough to formally introduce the shifter to Vincent, knowing they weren’t quite up to it themselves. Darlin simply nodded and tried not to freak out when Vincent sat in their favorite chair and drank from a mug that Darlin had given to Sam a year or so after they met. They pushed their chair up as close to Sam’s as possible, noting the easy way their mate pulled them in closer and held their hand under the table, laughing at something Vincent had said. 

     Vincent stayed for an hour, going through three or four cups of coffee. Tank couldn’t finish more than half of their hot chocolate, but no one said anything, which made them glad. Vincent hadn’t even said anything when they played with their hair or when they rocked back and forth to try and expel some of their nervous energy. They could remember being twelve and their parents pinching their thigh under tables in a silent reminder to be still and act their age. They’d both had firm beliefs that only small children needed to soothe themselves and that approaching teenage years was far too old to be doing any of that. 

     Vincent’s phone buzzed on the table and he picked it up. Tank watched carefully as Sam stood and took both of their mugs to the sink. He was still well within their line of vision and Vincent was otherwise occupied, but Darlin couldn’t help the way their heart rate spiked. Vincent sighed and their eyes darted between Sam at the sink and Vincent on the other side of the table. 

     “Trouble in paradise, Vin’?” Sam questioned, returning to his seat and bringing Tank’s hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss. Tank hid a smile behind their other hand, their face heating  up. The older vampire sighed again and stood, brushing imaginary crumbs off his lap and stuffing his phone in his pocket. 

     “Yeah, I gotta head out. Lovely can be left on their own nowadays for the most part, mostly out of the bloodlust.” He shrugged. Sam nodded in understanding and stood himself to retrieve Vincent’s coat for him. Tank stood too, awkwardly tugging on a loose thread on their sleeve. 

     “It sucks, but it's hard to know when they’re gonna be struggling anymore. They just need some company. And you, Sammy, know better than anyone that your partner always comes first.” Vincent teased. He laughed, a hand covering his mouth politely. 

     They’d never noticed Vincent actually acting the part of the teasing older brother, and they were curious. The statement in and of itself wasn’t much to worry about, but the teasing tone meant there was more to it than that. Darlin’s eyebrows furrowed and they made a questioning noise in their throat, their head cocking to their side. That one was a childish habit that most pups kicked by the time they were in high school. Neither Tank nor Asher had ever managed to stop doing it, not for lack of trying. They blushed a little, shaking their head. Vincent looked over at Tank and his eyes went a bit wide before a shit eating grin spread across his lips. 

     “Oh my god, Sam never told you? About when you two first met?” Vincent prodded, looking ready to sit back down and cross one long, elegant leg over the other and launch into another long-winded story. Tank momentarily found their voice and even smiled. 

     “No, what?” They piped up just as Sam made his way back, shoving Vincent’s coat into his chest and cutting off his partner’s questioning with a playful glare to Vincent. 

     “Vincent, don’t. What they don’t know about my embarrassin’ self won’t kill ‘em.” Sam’s tone was carefully light. Tank was now in their element. After their parents had gone back to Washington, they’d finished out their high school years living out of Gabe and David’s basement and David had become their brother. They knew exactly how siblings worked. What Sam really meant to say was-

     “If you say anything, I’ll tell Dad the bad thing you did months ago.” 

     Tank grinned in anticipation. 

     Vincent simply pushed Sam away gently, sliding his expensive looking coat on. 

     “Oh, nothing, just that after Sam met you, he went totally AWOL for a few weeks. The only person who could reach him was me and even then he just told me he was busy helping out a friend. I was shocked, honestly. Sammy here isn’t exactly the friendly type, so I knew something was up. It wasn’t for another month or two of needling that he finally admitted to me, ya know, his only friend, what was really going on.” Vincent explained, smirking and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked very proud of himself. 

     “Okay, and we’re done!” Sam abruptly cut him off, putting his hands on Vincent’s shoulders and turning him towards the door. It was Sam’s turn to blush, which was rare and Darlin pulled a page from Vincent’s book, covering their mouth in an attempt to hide their laugh. He guided Vincent to the door, grumbling while Vincent cackled and tried to defend himself.

     Tank had warm flashbacks of their first few months together, before either of them had admitted their feelings. Answering the door just a bit after dark to find Sam, offering to lay out any new info he had over a cup of coffee. Then he’d started bringing food, take-out, from a place up a few blocks from Tank’s apartment and they’d trade what they knew over cheap diner food. Then the food got a little nicer and they’d forgo their mock-investigation to simply chat for a few hours.

     There were soft, curious touches. Just a hand on the hip when passing behind each other in Darlin’s tiny kitchen. Playful nudges when sitting close to each other. Brief, warm hugs in the doorway whenever Sam was needed home earlier than expected. After eating they’d curl up on the couch together, just a bit too close to be friendly and Tank always ended up drifting off on Sam’s shoulder just before dawn. They always woke up alone when the sun rose, left carefully under a blanket with a text thanking them waiting on their phone. 

     Tank carefully loosened Sam’s grumpy stance, pulling one of his arms away and wrapping it around their shoulders. Sam squeezed them tight and smiled warmly at them, a proud gleam in his eyes overpowering the embarrassed look he’d been sporting. Vincent started stomping his boots on, an exaggerated smile on his face. 

     “Ya know, Sam, it really is romantic if you think about it! Like a honeymoon, where you leave everyone behind to bond with your lover!” Vincent teased, sighing dreamily and cupping his face in his hands. Darlin laughed again, which made Vincent smile in earnest. Sam groaned, his face heating up again. Vincent held his hand out for Tank to shake. 

     They didn’t hide away this time. It took a second, but they finally slipped their hand into the vampire’s, careful to not bring their wrists together. Vincent kept his smile, but his eyes widened and the silver irises darted between their joined hands and Sam’s own eyes like he couldn’t quite believe his luck with the requited handshake. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Vincent was quick to pull his hand away, not wanting to overstep his new friend’s boundaries. 

     “It was nice to finally actually meet you, Tank.” Vincent said kindly.

     “You too.” It was soft, but they responded genuinely, a small smile on their own lips. Sam wished Vincent goodbye and they both watched him pull out of the driveway, holding each other on the porch. 

     “I like him.” Tank said quietly, as the expensive car pulled out onto the road. “He should come over more often.” 

     Sam just chuckled, pressing a kiss to their forehead lovingly. 

Chapter Text

It started with a Christmas card. 

It was just a few days after Thanksgiving when Tank came in with their mail. They shrugged off Sam’s fur-lined coat and hung it up on its hook next to theirs and made their way to the kitchen, calling further into the house. 

“Sammy, mail!” They dropped it all on the table without bothering to go through any of it. They opened the fridge and stared, curling up their lip at the lack of anything they wanted to eat. Without looking up, they yelled again. 

“Can we order in tonight? There’s nothing to eat!” Tank groaned, pushing aside a few of Sam’s blood bags to look further. Suddenly Sam was beside them, closing the fridge and pulling them into his arms. 

“Ya know, just because you have to cook somethin’ to eat it, doesn’t mean there’s nothin’ to eat.” He chided lightly, smiling and leaning down for a quick kiss. “And no, we’re not ordering in, I’ll make you somethin’.” Sam pat their side gently and crossed to the kitchen table to look through the mail. Tank groaned, finding themselves in a similar situation as they looked through the pantry. 

“Yes, but, counter point , if we order in, I don’t have to wait as long and you don’t have to do anything but sit there and look pretty.” They grinned, closing the pantry and turning to face their mate again. He’d settled into a dining chair and was holding a single white envelope addressed to him in careful, cursive script. His face was set into a frown, the rest of the mail forgotten on the table. It was rare they got anything besides junk mail and bills, and rarer still that they got mail from an actual human person.

“Hey, what’s wrong? That from Will or something?” They frowned themselves, sitting down beside him and sniffing, their nose scrunching up at the unfamiliar scent. “Not Will.” They decided, turning a concerned look back to Sam. 

“It’s um… It’s from my sister, back home.” Sam said in a quiet, unsure voice. “Harper.” He whispered her name, flipping the envelope over to open it. He did so as gently as possible, like the envelope and its contents might burst into flames if he were too rough with it. 

“Sister?” Tank whispered, their eyebrows furrowing as they sniffed some more, trying to commit the scent of the paper to memory. It wasn’t often that either of them talked about their biological families, most memories too painful to bring up. The only family that truly mattered was the ones they’d found within the pack and the clan. Sam had mentioned a sister before, but never by name. 

Sam started pulling the contents of the envelope out and Tank watched carefully. Inside was a Christmas card, the kind they’d seen on Gabe’s fridge growing up more times than they could count. The people in the picture were smiling brightly, dressed in their Sunday best, standing in a wheat field. The card read ‘Merry Christmas from the Hills!’ Both Sam and Tank stared at the family, speechless.

There were four of them, a husband, wife, and two young teenage boys. Harper looked a lot like Sam. Tan skin, thick wavy hair, long dark eyelashes, and wide shoulders. What set her apart from Sam was her bright green eyes and the grey streaks in her hair. Sam would never have those. She was probably in her late forties and she was clearly full of life and love. The two boys took after their father, fair skinned and blonde, but had her eyes. The smaller boy was covered in freckles and had a dimple in his left cheek. Sam’s thumb brushed across Harper’s face as he stared. 

“Is that…” Tank whispered, pointing to the woman, but careful not to touch the card. Sam cleared his throat and nodded, gingerly handing over the photo for Tank to get a better look. 

“That’s Harper. And her husband, and their kids. Both of ‘em are unempowered.” Sam said, pointing at his sister and the man with a sad smile. “I was the only one in the family with magic. That’s why…” He trailed off, but Tank knew what he meant. It was why he left, why he never talked about them or visited. He shook his head, as if trying to clear out the bad memories. 

“Her husband’s name is Percy. His dad was the worship leader at our church, did youth ministry too. I think she only liked him because he could play guitar.” Sam explained, his voice tight even though he smiled. “He doesn’t look it now, but he could beat my ass when we were younger.” Tank nodded along, and looked a little harder at the man, trying to imagine him younger and with a guitar on his lap. 

“What about the boys? Are they…like you were?” They asked carefully, glancing up to meet Sam’s eyes. They tried to imagine them green, like his sister’s. Sam shrugged, then pointed to the older boy. 

“Jeremiah. Named after Percy’s dad. Think they call him Jem or Jemmy. He’s gotta be nearin’ fifteen or sixteen. If he’s empowered, Harper hasn’t told me.” Sam said. “I didn’t tell anyone for a while, though, so maybe.” He pointed to the other boy, the one with the dimple. 

“This one’s Ennon, after her father, our father.” Sam corrected himself. “I think he turned thirteen this spring. May or June if memory serves. Wouldn’t be too surprised if he’s unempowered too, but they’ll be findin’ out soon enough.” 

“You’re an uncle.” Tank breathed. They handed the card back to Sam and he stood, carefully pinning it to the fridge with a magnet. 

“Yeah. Harper sends me one of these cards every year, I got a box of ‘em upstairs if you wanna look.” Sam offered quietly. 

“Have you ever met them?” Tank asked, just as quiet. They were scared to break the bubble they were in, full of memories. Sam shook his head sadly.

“They were born after I was turned. Harper invited me, but I was scared I would…hurt ‘em. Kids are fragile.” He explained, his face dark. He shook his head again and went to the sink to start on the dishes. Tank stood and hugged him from behind, nuzzling their face into his shoulder. After a while, he turned the tap off and just stood still, staring out the window above the sink. He was quiet for a minute or so before he started talking again.

“She’s the only one who knows I was turned. Made her promise not to tell our parents. They were disappointed enough in their devil-child, they don’t need to know I have to drink blood now too.” Tank felt his breath hitch and knew without looking that his eyes were wet. “Percy and the kids don’t know about magic. Harper can’t explain away her ageless brother who still looks 30 when I should be pushing 50. It’s…it’s easier like this.”

They wanted to ask more about Sam’s description of himself – devil-child – but thought better of it. Another time. Tank understood why he was hesitant to see them, it made sense. But it was obvious Sam wanted to be part of their lives. It was obvious he loved his sister dearly and wanted to know his nephews. What do you say to someone who’s unable to see the only biological family he has left?

“I’d go with you.” They said quietly. The words weighed heavily on both of them. 

Sam turned and hugged them tightly, resting his head on top of theirs and sniffling quietly. His voice was thick with emotion.

“Thanks, Darlin.” He whispered. 

—

They’d been lying in bed quietly, the day after the Solstice, Sam humming Christmas songs under his breath while Tank did an impressive performance of someone who was totally not falling asleep. He pet their hair and pressed breathy, soft kisses to their skin for no real reason other than to let them know he was there and that he loved them. 

In the previous weeks, the two of them had done Christmas traditions that were new for Tank. Growing up on the poorer, less sentimental side of things, Tank had few traditions that they kept. Sam was more than willing to share his own from back home. Baking cookies, putting up Christmas lights around the house, making pie from scratch which they shared with both the clan and the pack. Sam had even taken them out back into the woods to pick out their tree. The moon had been full and Tank spent most of their trek as a wolf, rolling in the icy snow and watching Sam’s eyes glow in the moon. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Sam practically whispered, brushing his thumb along their cheekbone. He propped up on one elbow to look down at them, his eyes wide and full of reverence for the shifter in his bed. Their eyes opened just enough to look at him, a dreamy look on their face. 

“As long as it’s not anything bad.” Tank responded in turn, smiling dopily and leaning into Sam’s warm, calloused hand. 

“Maybe it’s a little silly, but there’s a…night service at a small church in town for Christmas Eve in a couple days. I go almost every year, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come with.” His voice was small and unusually shy. Tank sat up a little to get a better look at him. 

“I’ve never been to church.” They said quietly, their face heating up. They knew it wasn’t something to be embarrassed about, but saying it out loud, they felt a bit shameful. “But, I’d go anywhere you’d ask me to, Sam.” Tank whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of the vampire’s eye while cupping his jaw. They heard him take a small, sharp breath and his head fell to their chest. Tank chuckled and pet the back of his head, falling back onto the pillows. 

“Don’t tell me you’re cryin’, Cowboy.” Tank teased lightly. They wrapped their arms around him and pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head. 

“I’m not cryin’, you menace.” Sam pushed himself up on his arms and pressed their foreheads together. He let their lips brush together as he whispered. “I just love you. So much.” They’d heard it a million times before and it was far from the last time they’d hear it, but Tank sighed happily, like it was the first time, and kissed him deeply, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. 

Sam pulled away panting and rolled onto his back, pulling Tank into his side. The candle on the bedside table flickered and the light danced across his face and not for the first time, Tank stared, wondering what he would have looked like in the sun. Despite not having seen the sun in years, his skin was still tan from a childhood spent outdoors, burning then tanning over and over again. 

“You promise they won’t kick me out for being a filthy sinner?” Tank questioned, giggling a little under their breath. Sam turned to look at them, his eyes hungry and a smirk on his lips. 

“They’d have to kick me out too, you hellion.” He kissed their jaw and moved further down their neck and to their collar bones, chuckling as they turned breathless and squirming under his lips. 

—

It turned out that when Sam said the church was small, he meant small . It was a candle-lit service, but Tank could count maybe 30 people altogether, and about a third of them seemed to be staff. Most of them were older folks, but there were a few young families with small children, who for the most part seemed to be well behaved. 

Truth be told, despite the brave face they’d put on, Tank had almost gotten cold feet when they saw what Sam was wearing. For all his complaining about wearing nice clothing most of the time, he’d certainly dressed up for the service. Simple black slacks and a white dress shirt with a black boots and cowboy hat. Tank’s jaw had practically been on the floor when they got out of the shower and saw him fully dressed, fixing his collar in the mirror. Heat climbed their cheeks as they admired his body and outfit. 

“I didn’t know it was that nice of an event…” They trailed off, feeling breathless as butterflies took flight in their stomach. They chewed on their lip, suddenly feeling nervous about the whole thing. Sam gripped their jaw and gave them a kiss on the cheek. They could feel him smiling against their wet skin. 

“This is just for me, Darlin’. You can wear whatever you like. I think the kids come in their pajamas anyway.” Sam explained as he pulled away and messed with the cuffs on his dress shirt. They couldn’t help smiling though they still felt nervous. They got dressed to a similar degree as their mate and Sam had led Tank outside to his truck and drove them into town. 

They’d arrived somewhat early and were hanging towards the edge of the small sanctuary, watching the others socialize. There was only one empowered signature that Tank could sense, maybe an air elemental, but it was hard to tell where it was coming from. With both of them being introverts, it was nice to just have a few minutes of quiet before the service, though both were glad for different reasons. Sam was glad to see other people happy and socializing, while Tank was glad that they didn’t have to talk to anyone while they pondered what the service was going to be like. 

The couple’s moment of peace only lasted so long though. Sam squeezed Tank’s hand gently and nodded at an older gentleman approaching them in warning. Tank squeezed back and pushed closer to him, looking down at their beat up boots. They felt as though the ground could simply swallow them whole in that moment, and they might actually be okay with it. 

“Pastor Jason, it’s good to see you.” Sam said politely. The older man, Pastor Jason, smiled. He had thin light brown hair that was balding, bright blue eyes and a kind smile. He outstretched his hand and Sam reciprocated, shaking his hand respectfully. He quickly returned it to Tank’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of it reassuringly.

“It’s good to see you too, Sam, merry Christmas! And I see you’ve brought someone new with you this time! Was Vincent busy this year?” Pastor Jason noted cheerfully, his eyes turning to Tank expectantly. They resisted the urge to either hide behind Sam or bolt entirely and instead set their jaw and gave the man a tight smile. Just as they were about to force themselves to speak, Sam wrapped his arm around their shoulder. 

“Yes sir.” He nodded, beaming with pride. “This is my partner.” Seeing Sam glowing excitedly, Tank’s smile went from tight to gooey and natural, staring up at him for a few seconds before shaking their head with a blush and extending their hand to the pastor to shake his hand. 

“I’m Tank.” They said simply, pulling their hand away and linking their arm into Sam’s again. It was rare for anyone to get their first name upon meeting and Pastor Jason was no different. Sam didn’t seem to mind however, just smiled and nodded. 

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Tank. Sam here’s been coming here for Christmas Eve for a while now and he’s never brought anyone aside from his younger brother. I’m guessing if he hasn’t done it already, a ring can’t be far from his mind!” Pastor Jason laughed, patting Sam’s shoulder amicably. The couple blushed, Tank going as far as to hide their face in Sam’s arm, but they smiled. He gave an awkward chuckle, rubbing at his jaw. 

“They certainly mean a whole lot to me, Pastor.” Sam said agreeably. He rubbed at their shoulder lovingly. The pastor and Sam chatted back and forth for a bit while Tank just listened happily, eyes only on Sam. Pastor Jason’s eyes trailed a younger looking man walking by and he seemed to remember something. 

“Ooh! I gotta go chat with the worship team real quick. You two enjoy the service! It was very nice to meet you, Tank. Oh and Sam, please thank Mr. Solaire for his continued support, I know he doesn’t have much time to come see us. And you know, we’d love to see you both on Sunday mornings!” 

“We’ll think about it, sir.” Sam said with a tight smile, looking the most awkward he had all night.

Pastor Jason pat both of their shoulders and ran off to catch up with the man that had walked past. 

“William gives ‘em a huge donation every year to help with all the community outreach they do. They’re one of the main organizers for all the pride events in June.” Sam explained, looking at Tank’s confused expression.

Sam led them to the row of pews in the back, sitting them down at the edge closest to the doors leading out of the church. He tilted his chin down and pulled his hat off, setting it on his lap after crossing his legs. He pulled Tank’s hand to his mouth and gave it a small kiss. 

“You’re doing so good, Darlin’.” Sam praised quietly. “Service’ll only be about an hour than we can go home. I got some ice cream waitin’ in the freezer for us and I’ll make some hot chocolate, too.” He promised. 

“I don’t mind. I like being with you wherever.” Tank insisted, smiling and leaning their head on Sam’s shoulder. “But I will gladly take ice cream and hot chocolate.” 

All in all, the service wasn’t much about God at all. There was a brief rendition of the Christmas story told by the children’s pastor followed by the choir singing carols, which Sam quietly sang along to, his voice warm and bright. Then Pastor Jason stood and gave a message that only seemed to follow a theme of love and giving and ‘the meaning of Christmas’. The warm room and Sam’s hand on their knee, rubbing gently left Tank feeling sleepy by the end of the service. 

Sam was careful to avoid people on the way out, wrapping his arm around Tank’s shoulder and leading them back to the truck. It was a quiet ride home, Sam taking the long way to look at Christmas lights. When they did get home, Sam insisted on carrying them inside, making them laugh and hide their face in their hands. 

—

It wasn’t long before Tank found themselves standing at the bathroom counter with Sam, both of them getting ready for bed. Tank was drowning in one of Sam’s t-shirts while Sam was in the fuzzy socks Vincent’s partner had given him at their gift exchange and a pair of red pajama pants. Sam was brushing his teeth and Tank was washing their face. They towel dried their skin and simply watched Sam, their eyes wide and full of adoration. 

“Ya know, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Sam said, or at least it sounded like that. Toothpaste dripped down his chin and into his stubble. Tank didn’t stop staring, just smiling sweetly and pushing into Sam’s side. He chuckled. They watched Sam finish up quietly, lightly touching his bare skin while their head spun questions about Sam’s past and who he was before he came to Dahlia. 

“Can I ask you something?” Tank asked as Sam spit his toothpaste out and began rinsing his toothbrush. 

“You just did.” He said with a smirk, chuckling as they pouted. “I’m just teasin’, shoot.” 

“How come you stopped going to church? You seemed to really like it. I’m sure there’s gotta be churches that do night services. Or live streams.” 

“Well that’s a loaded question.” Sam said, pressing a frothy kiss to their forehead. They scrunched their nose and wiped the toothpaste off their skin. “But, I stopped doin’ church for real pretty much right after my powers started manifesting.” He explained, rinsing his mouth and leading the two of them to the bed. 

“I figured that I musta been demon possessed or somethin’. And no matter how much I prayed or threw myself at the altar, my powers, surprise surprise, didn’t go away. I’d always considered myself a born-again Christian, but after that, I really only went for the people. I couldn’t exactly get out of it without raising suspicions with Mom and Dad, so I made the best of it, prentendin’ when I had to. It took me a whole year to tell Harper about my powers. We started growing apart bit by bit after that, but she didn’t tell nobody.” Sam continued talking while Tank curled up next to him on the bed, listening quietly like they had when Sam first got the Christmas card from Harper. 

“I didn’t tell my parents about my powers until I was 14 or 15. And even then, it was only because Harper told me I had to. Southern baptists that they are, they freaked out. Called up the head pastor and had him come to our house to do… somethin’, I don’t know.” He shook his head, frowning. “I didn’t wanna show him my powers, but I was so scared and angry. Dad was yellin’ at me to do somethin’ and Mom was cryin’. I really tried to hold it, to not do anything, but I think I made his cup explode, the pastor I mean. It cut his hand and I offered to heal it, that was about the only part of my powers I could control, but he refused and left. It was kinda unspoken that I wasn’t welcome at church again.” 

“After that, things got…well, they got pretty bad. I pretty much stayed home unless I was going to school, and even then, nobody really talked to me. The church we went to was the one everyone went to, so rumors spread pretty quick. That’s when I kinda got in my rebellious phase I told you about. Drinking, partying, yada yada. Made some friends, went to Six Flags after graduation, came back home for a couple days. Mom and Dad were pissed that I left in the first place, as far as they were concerned they wanted the town to forget their devil-child existed to spare them the embarrassment. So I packed everything I could and hitchhiked my way back to California. You know the rest.” 

Sam finished, pulling Tank to his chest and holding them close. They were still, tracing his collar bones with a finger as they considered what they now knew. 

“You alright, Darlin?” He whispered, petting their hair. 

“Sam, that’s awful.” They whispered back, their eyes soft. They were quiet for a few seconds, unsure of how to properly convey how they felt. “Do you want me to go down there and beat them up?” 

Ol’ reliable. 

Sam chuckled, rubbing his forehead. 

“Well considering they’re both pushing eighty, I don’t think It’d be much of a fight, but I appreciate the thought.” He said softly. 

They both fell comfortably silent. Sam rubbed Tank’s back until they melted into his body and they nuzzled up under his chin, pressing as close as possible. If anyone asked, they were simply cold. It was winter after all. The sun was just starting to come up and Sam was almost certain his wolf was asleep. 

“Do you still believe in God?” Their voice was soft and sleepy and almost a whisper. Sam looked down at them, feeling suddenly very exposed and wide open. He knew they had no idea how easy it was for them to take him apart with a single sentence, glance, smile. His walls crumbled. He smiled and pushed their hair back from their forehead. The sun cut through the gaps in the curtains and made their skin glow. It stung a little, but he stayed still, admiring his mate, worshiping at the altar of their beauty. 

“I’ve found God on my own terms, love.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to their forehead. They sighed and settled, clearly on the verge of sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Darlin.” 

Chapter Text

Darlin looked down at one of their dad’s old switchblades sitting in their palm. They flipped it over, getting used to the feel of the polished wood handle and the cool metal of the belt clip on the back. They’d snatched it from the glove box in the beat up old truck that their family drove around in, Darlin smushed between their mom and dad whenever they went anywhere. The two of them had been too distracted yelling at each other to notice Darlin lingering in the cab of the truck when they got home one evening.

Dad has plenty of knives, he won’t miss this one. They told themselves, flipping the blade open. They stared at their warped reflection. Besides, I know Gabe got David one for his birthday last year. I’m not the only kid with one. They weren’t entirely sure why they took it, but they had. Careful to keep their fingers away from the blade, they closed the knife and stuffed it in their pocket.

Moving to Dahlia a few months prior hadn’t been easy and to be quite frank, it really still wasn’t. It was a lot warmer than they were used to, more dry. And on top of everything, Darlin wasn’t the greatest at making friends. The other teens within the pack had been friendly enough, but there hadn’t really been any clicking with any of them. The only people they’d been clicking with in any capacity were at the unempowered high school they all attended.

Darlin could say it was friendship, but it was more like adopt-a-nerd. Or nerds in this case. In their first week at school, they’d done their best to look as tough as possible, wearing sleeveless shirts to show off their scarred arms and lithe muscle, making sure their face was always a comfortable ‘I’ll beat a bitch’ neutral. While most of the other students, even the upperclassmen, gave them a wide berth, two little geeks flocked to them, as if instinctively sensing they had a soft spot for weak nerds who needed defending.

The tall one was Guy, long blonde hair and all long limbs and dirty jokes. He had a twin somewhere that refused to associate with any of them, out of fear of attracting bullies of their own. The shorter one was Geordi, thick glasses, brown curls, and a bit of a shy stammer. The two were attached at the hip and had somehow very easily absorbed Darlin into their sphere. They all had near identical schedules and the two unempowered teens seemed to revel in their new ‘scary dog privileges’. Most of their days were spent with Guy and Geordi talking each other’s and Darlin ears off, while Darlin stayed in an almost aloof silence, making sure no one got near their small pseudo-pack.

Neither of the boys seemed to mind Darlin’s somewhat odd nature, like how they refused to let either of them come over after school, or how they insisted that they were related to the three boys two grades above them, despite never being seen with each other or never having been mentioned before. They carried their dad’s knife with them everywhere, mostly in their back pocket to keep it out of sight, but readily available should it be needed. They’d yet to use it on anything other than sticks in the woods or to cut loose threads on their clothes and their dad had yet to mention its missing since they’d taken it.

—

“You guys really should swing by Max’s tonight! I can sneak you free pizza! Free pizza, guys!” Guy whisper-shouted the last part like it was some amazing secret. Guy had been working at the local mom-and-pop restaurant since the summer before. He technically wasn’t old enough, but his older cousin worked there and they paid him under the table. They were still in the schoolyard, on their way out to walk their separate ways home, or in Guy’s case, work. Darlin was fully aware of Gabe’s insistence that David give them a ride home after school, but both teens knew Darlin preferred to walk (or run) the few miles to their home in the woods. It was an unspoken agreement that if Gabe were to bring it up, both were to insist that the rides were an every-day occurrence.

“I don’t know, Guy, my mom doesn’t really like me leaving the house after I get home. And Ben promised me that he’d call me tonight!” Geordi blushed as he shared this information. Ben was a boy in the grade above them that had been flirting on and off with Geordi. Guy scoffed and rolled his eyes, then turned to Darlin, walking backwards to do so. He only bumped into a few people.

“What about you, big dog?” He questioned, doing finger guns. “Free pizza?” It was Darlin’s turn to roll their eyes, curling their lip and biting back a growl.

“I’m not a dog, and no, I’ve got a uh…family meeting tonight.” They weren’t technically lying. There was a pack meeting tonight, but Darlin’s parents almost never made them attend. They were walking behind the school now, the group making their way to the sidewalks that lead deeper into town. Most students had rides or walked in the opposite direction, towards the suburban side of things, so they were mostly by themselves.

“Oh, come on!” Guy huffed. “You’re all tough and growly! You’re totally like a rottweiler or something! Plus, you look like you bite, but hey, some people are into that.” He snapped his own teeth a couple of times and waggled his eyebrows. Darlin opened their mouth to protest, but caught a scent that stopped them in their tracks, the boys continuing on ahead. Empowered, though they couldn’t tell what kind, and a few of them. With the wind blowing the way it was, they couldn’t tell which way it was coming from.

As Guy and Geordi were about to round the corner of the building, they seemed to notice Darlin’s sudden stop.

“Hey, is something wrong? You look worried.” Geordi piped up, Guy nodding along. Suddenly, three older and much larger students were behind the boys, sneering and laughing. Darlin snorted and jogged to get ahead of the boys. They turned to face the other students, their faces pale and now worried themselves. Though Guy was taller than the apparent bullies, both him and Geordi shrunk in on themselves instinctively, familiar with the treatment they were sure they were going to receive. The leader of the group stepped forward.

“Well, if it isn’t Beanpole and Star Wars! We haven’t seen you guys around in a while. And it looks like you’ve been bumpin’ shoulders with this new kid! Good. Fresh meat!” The boy was built like a brick wall, his shoulders wide and a square jaw. As Darlin got closer, they could smell him better, metallic and bitter. Maybe an electric or magnetic energetic. The other two bullies had a weaker scent, probably both freelancers. Emboldened by Darlin’s presence, surprisingly Geordi spoke.

“Actually, it’s Star Trek!” He squeaked. “Star Wars is something completely different!” Darlin stood off to the side, sizing the newcomers up, but took a moment to nod at Geordi proudly. Normally it would be Guy running his mouth. The leader bent down to Geordi’s level, his amused face replaced with something that looked pissed and annoyed.

“You know I don’t actually care, right?” He snapped. Darlin cut between the two of them, standing in front of their friends defensively and setting their jaw.

“Back off, man. You know these two can’t fight.” They scoffed, their nostrils flaring angrily. One of the freelancers stepped up then, making a grab at Geordi’s curls to hold him still so they could pull off the boy’s glasses.

“That’s why we like ‘em, kid!” The freelancer boasted, laughing. Darlin growled and shoved them off the boy, his glasses clattering to the ground. They landed a deft punch to the offender’s jaw, knocking them onto the ground with Geordi’s glasses.

“They can’t fight, but I can.” When they were sure neither of their friends were looking, they let their teeth shift into something sharp and dangerous. Though magic users could sense other magic users, they didn’t have wolf noses. These bullies had to know Darlin had magic, but until they snapped their teeth, they hadn’t been sure what kind. The second freelancer stumbled back, surprised, but the leader just smirked and huffed out a laugh.

“I don’t think you wanna mess with them.” Darlin said, their voice low and threatening.

“What can you do, puppy? Nothing without getting yourself in trouble.” The leader mocked. “Us, on the other hand…Let’s just say you’d do a hell of a lot better if you ran with us rather than these, hmm, lesser beings.”

“Not. Interested.” Darlin ground out, their voice tilting into a snarl.

“Well, pup, you better step aside and let us handle these two, then. It’s three,” He glanced down at his friend on the ground, still cupping their jaw and swearing. “Two on one, and, again, there’s not much you can do to stop us.”

Darlin groped at their back pocket for the switchblade. Their hand shook as they flipped it open and held it out in front of them, trying to look as tough as possible and bearing their teeth again. They heard Geordi and Guy gasp behind them, Geordi grabbing Guy’s shirt and pulling him closer. The freelancer on the ground evidently caught the glint of steel in the sunlight and scrambled to their feet, running inside to retrieve an adult.

Darlin didn’t know if they had the strength to actually use the blade on the bullies, but they sure as hell felt as though they had the upper hand now. Both of the remaining offenders backed up, raising their hands as if to show they meant no harm. It wouldn’t be long before faculty and maybe cops would be there, but Darlin didn’t care much anymore. Their friends were safe and they wouldn’t be in trouble. They let out a low rumble of a growl and the bullies backed up far enough that they felt safe to run after their friend. Geordi and Guy leapt out in front of Darlin, laughing and cheering.

“That’s right! They’re our friend and they’re CRAZY!” Guy called after them, wooping. When the bullies were out of earshot, Darlin’s shaking hand released the knife and it fell to the ground with a clank. They followed it to the pavement, letting out a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. Their eyes were wide and it felt like all the blood had drained from their head, their vision nearly swimming. Geordi knelt next to them.

“You don’t look so good, are you okay?” He asked, hovering over his friend worriedly. He suddenly gasped again, grabbing Darlin’s arm. “Your hand’s bleeding!” They looked over at Geordi then down at their hand, feeling like they’d just woken up. There was indeed a smear of red on their hand, blood steadily oozing from a two inch slice in the meat of their palm. It suddenly stung quite a bit and they hissed, squeezing the cut close with their other hand.

“Must’ve cut myself opening it…” Darlin mused quietly. Geordi and Guy’s voices sounded like they were under water and suddenly there were pounding footsteps and loud voices and Darlin was hauled to their feet by their shoulders.

—

Riding home in the back of a cop car had been cool. They were lucky enough to receive two month’s suspension, not expulsion, and the parents of the bullies had known Gabe and the pack well enough to not press charges.

What hadn’t been cool was the lecture they got from their parents. It was twilight by the time they got home and the cops let them out of the car. The cut on the palm of Darlin’s hand hadn’t been treated at all, they were just given a handful of paper towels to keep the blood from dripping everywhere. They watched carefully, sitting on the porch steps as their parents spoke with the officers. They peeled the paper towel off their palm, looking down at the throbbing cut. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, the stagnant blood sticky and tacky. Darlin brushed a finger along the edge of the cut, clenching their teeth and debating whether it was worth it or not to bring it up at all. It was likely that if they were to mention it, not being taken to Marie or another healer would be part of their punishment.

Super glue should do the trick, it wasn’t that deep. They just wouldn’t be able to close their hand comfortably for a while.

Darlin’s head popped up as they heard one of the cop car doors close. The officer that was talking to their dad pulled the switchblade out and dropped it in their dad’s hand. Their mom stomped up the driveway, loose stones crunching under her shoes. Darlin opened their mouth to say something, but she simply brushed past her kid and went inside, slamming the screen door behind her. Their dad stayed at the edge of the drive, watching the cops pull out onto the dirt road and drive away. He turned and Darlin knew without really thinking about it that they were in huge trouble.

—

Part of their punishment was extreme supervision. They would be glued to either one of their parents’ sides for the foreseeable future. It was a favorite for their parents, flexing the power they held over their child. They knew from previous experience that it would wear off eventually, it always did, but at least for a week or so, they were stuck. If they weren’t at school, they would not be allowed out of earshot and no closed doors.

That night, they were forced to go to the pack meeting. It wasn’t the first one they’d been to, but it was certainly as boring as the rest of them. After it was over, all the adults lingered inside to talk while the kids retreated to the backyard to play-fight and chase fireflies. Darlin sat on the back porch and tried to ignore the throbbing bruise on their temple, courtesy of their father. They picked at the dried superglue on their fingertips idly, watching as a couple younger kids rolled in the grass. Suddenly, they were surrounded by a few other teens, the longest, gangly one plopping down beside them with a huge smile on his face.

“Hey, dude!” Asher, they thought. He had a mouth full of braces with bright orange bands. He’d obviously shot up in height more recently, his jeans stopping mid-calf rather than at his ankles. The other two with him were David, and the smaller boy, Milo. All three of them held themselves confidently, but Asher was clearly the most outgoing. He bumped his shoulder against theirs.

“We heard you pulled a knife on someone at school today!” He continued and Darlin paled, quickly hiding their hand. They opened their mouth to defend themselves, but Asher cut them off. “Dude, that’s so badass! I heard you punched ‘em too! Knocked two of ‘em out cold. Is this the only hit they got in?” He gestured to the bruise on the side of their face. Darlin scrambled for an explanation, suddenly blushing and gaping like a fish.

“Uh, yeah. And I only hit one of them. I was just trying to protect my friends.” They explained, subconsciously rubbing at the bruise. Milo flanked them, sitting on their other side and demanding attention with his loud voice and sharp accent.

“Oh yeah, those little geeks you hang out with! Ya know, you could hang out with us, too. I mean if you wanted. Those kids don’t really seem to be your…type.” Milo’s eyes trailed their scarred skin and Darlin scoffed.

“Geordi and Guy are good. They need me.” They said simply. “It was three magical upperclassmen against two unempowered freshmen. They need me.” Darlin affirmed, nodding to themselves.

“Dude, you just keep getting cooler in my book! There was three of them? And they were empowered!” Asher’s voice squeaked with excitement and David nudged Asher’s foot with his, grunting quietly. Ash rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t be fighting or whatever.”

The group of four chatted for a while, David mostly stoic and quiet, while Milo and Ash did all the talking. The back door swung open then shut behind them and the boys’ eyes darted to it, Milo and Ash standing and scattering further into the yard. David lingered for a bit, a worried look on his face. Darlin’s eyes widened when Gabe Shaw sat down beside them.

“Go on, David, get Ash and Milo to help you stack all the chairs inside.” Gabe said kindly, smiling softly at his son. David nodded and jogged after his friends. Darlin kept their eyes down, not daring to lift their head to meet their alpha’s eyes. They were careful to angle their face to hide their bruise and kept their cut hand palm down on their thigh.

“Heard you had some trouble at school today, kiddo.” Gabe said quietly, tilting his head down to encourage them to meet his eyes. They didn’t. “You’re not in any trouble with me, ya know. I’m not your dad.” Darlin just shrugged.

“I’ve talked to those kids’ parents before. I know they’re bullies, kid, I’m not mad. I wanted to say that I’m proud of you.” Gabe said quietly, his voice soft. Darlin finally looked at him, their eyes wide and incredulous. They watched his eyes roam their face, wandering over the bruise and calculating exactly where it had come from. They dropped their face again, blushing.

“Your friends are unempowered, right? And those kids had magic. They were taunting you and you didn’t take the bait. You didn’t shift. That’s some pretty good self-control, kid.” Gabe smiled gently. “And while I don’t know where you got a knife from, and you definitely shouldn’t have pulled it…you did right by those boys. You protected them. That’s what pack does.” He nudged their shoulder.

Gabe grabbed their hand and flipped it over, making them hiss at the stretch of the slice. They tried to close their hand, but he held it open lightly, brushing his thumb along the length of the glued cut.

“How…” Darlin trailed off, chewing the inside of their cheek. Gabe didn’t answer, just looked at them with soft, worried eyes.

“Do you want Marie to heal this? Won’t tell your parents.” He offered quietly. Darlin pulled their hand away and cupped it to their chest, shaking their head. Gabe held their jaw, turning their face to look at their bruise again. “And this? Where did this come from?”

“Just…one of those kids hit me after I punched ‘em.” Darlin stammered for the same lie they used earlier. Gabe sucked his teeth and tsked, but nodded. They could tell he didn’t believe them.

“You’re pretty tough, kid. Like a brick wall. Or a tank.” Gabe stood with a quiet groan and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Please don’t talk to them.” Darlin whispered, a scared and wild look in their eyes.

“Don’t worry, Tanker. Your secret’s safe with me.” He ruffled their hair and headed back inside. Darlin wasn’t sure which secret he was talking about, their cut, or their fear of their parents, but they trusted him.

—

Tank shook the memory of their first real interaction with Gabe out of their head, looking back down at the cutting board where they were cutting up vegetables for theirs and Sam’s dinner. Their hands shook a bit as they picked the knife back up to continue what they were doing. They mindlessly picked one of the peppers up and started slicing along the stem to pull out the core. Just a bit too much pressure sent the blade of the knife straight through the pepper and cleanly cut their palm.

They gasped and dropped the knife and pepper, quick to put pressure to the cut. They squeezed the side of their palm with their other hand, swearing under their breath.

“Everythin’ alright, Darlin?” Sam called from the office, a concerned lilt to his voice.

Tank took themselves to the sink and ran the cut under warm water before grabbing a towel to stem the blood flow. They couldn’t bring themselves to answer Sam, a sudden and unwelcome lump in their throat. They pulled the towel away to inspect the damage. The new cut almost perfectly traced the old white scar from their dad’s switchblade. Blood oozed out of it steadily and they watched, their chin trembling.

Super glue should do the trick, it wasn’t that deep. They just wouldn’t be able to close their hand comfortably for a while.

“Darlin?” Sam called again. They heard him stand and suddenly he was at their side, cupping their hurt hand in his own. “What happened?” He said softly, taking the towel and wiping the excess blood away to get a better look. They stared at him, almost surprised at how gentle he was being. They sniffed and pressed their forehead to his chest, their voice coming out watery and quiet.

“Can you help?”

Chapter Text

Sam watched over his progenies carefully as they weaved their way onto the dance floor of the crowded club. They’d both been turned a little over eight months ago, and he figured an unempowered club was as good a place as any to test their resolve. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, bumping and grinding to the beat, drunk stumbling idiots. It was good exposure therapy for their heightened senses as well, the pounding music, smell of bitter alcohol, cheap cologne, and vomit. Overall, the scent of humans and blood. As hard and admittedly gross as it was, it was good practice for them.

Sam nursed his beer as he watched them, hat low on his brow. He peeled away the thrumming music and loud voices of everyone else until he found Fred and Bright’s individual heartbeats. He didn’t have to hear Fred’s to know it, he felt it pounding in his chest like it was his own, echoing around his ribcage. Bright’s was faster than Fred’s, fluttery and light. They were both nervous, but doing well, holding onto each other stiffly and trying too hard to lose themselves in the music. Sam winced as he watched, remembering when Vincent had brought him to the same club for the same reason years ago. He hadn’t done quite as well. The two of them were lucky to have each other

It hadn’t been easy expending the magic it took to cloak all three of their auras before leaving, but it was better to prevent the problem from happening in the first place than it was to risk not having enough magic for another healing job. From his understanding, Quinn had left town as soon as he deemed his work with Fred and Bright Eyes finished, but he also wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. And he would definitely consider someone undoing his careful handiwork a challenge. Sam had definitely planned on hunting that leech down as soon as Fred and Bright could be left on their own again. 

A long, scarred arm cut between him and the person at the bar next to him and Sam glanced down at the person trying to get the bartender's attention. It wasn’t just their arm that was scarred. The person wore a tank top and jeans, dark colors, just like Sam. Both were a far cry from the bright lights and neon clothes that most everyone else was wearing. He subtly felt up their aura as they tried to get closer to the bar. Unempowered human. They tried fruitlessly for a while to catch the bartender’s attention, huffing and curling their lip angrily. Just as they turned to retreat from the bar, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“What’re you drinkin’?” He called over the music. The stranger winced at his loud voice and their eyes darted between him and the exit points of the club. Sam had been doing the same thing all night. They seemed to be lost in thought as their eyes lingered on the closest door. 

—

“What’re you drinkin’?” The man at the bar repeated himself, going as far as to nudge them a bit to get their attention back on him. He pushed the black cowboy hat he was wearing up with his knuckle, shifting the shadow across his face so they could see him better. If this was an old western film, he’d definitely be the bad guy sitting in the corner, stabbing a knife between his fingers into the table. 

Tank was familiar with the club. Quinn had dragged them to it more times than they could count, when the two of them were still together. It was popular enough that they could disappear into the crowd and no one would bat an eye if he backed them into a corner and buried his teeth in the column of their throat. If he’d found himself back in town, he’d be here, no question. Whether it was to search for fresh meat or his precious , he’d be here. They almost hoped he’d have the same idea, coming back to their old haunts, so they could finish him off quick and easy. 

On the off chance he was there to find Tank, he wouldn’t be able to find them. When in Washington, they’d learned a few cloaking spells that they could manage fairly easily from an old friend in their hometown. They’d never left their shitty little apartment without cloaking their aura and their scent. Hiding their scent from any packmates would lessen the risk of them disturbing their hunt or getting caught in the crossfire. And hiding their aura would hide them from Quinn. Scent would do the trick too, but Quinn considered himself too sophisticated a hunter to fall on baser instinct like scent.  

This man shouldn't be able to tell anything about them. Tank eyed the man, sizing him up. He had grey eyes, dark stubble and a scar along his cheek bone. When he got close, they inhaled his scent, it was dull but woodsy. Unempowered human. They cut off their sidelong glance for the door and sighed, rolling their eyes. 

“Water, please.” Tank ground out, cocking their head to the side and giving the man a curious glance. “Thanks.” The man raised his hand and Tank growled under their breath when the bartender came to him right away. 

“Another beer?” 

“No, water, for my friend here.” The man smirked and glanced back at Tank. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name, Darlin.” Tank scowled at the endearing nickname as it rounded itself out of the man’s accent. His eyes cut across the club to two young men on the dance floor as he passed them their water. 

“Tank will do fine. Think you’ll find ‘darlin’ is a little too soft for me, Cowboy.” It was their turn to smirk, and the man’s turn to scowl. They held out their hand for him to shake. It was rough and calloused and bigger than Tank’s, nails dark with what looked like woodstain. 

“Sam’ll do fine for me, Tank . And I’m no cowboy.” Tank chuckled and made a show of eyeing him up and down again. 

“You’re serious? You’ve heard your own voice. And you did look in the mirror before you left, right?” The man, Sam , rolled his eyes and laughed himself. 

“Just because I’ve got some twang in my voice,” Sam pulled the hat off and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m a cowboy. Hat doesn’t mean nothin’ either.” He grinned, all teeth, and settled the hat back on his head. 

The two continued chatting, both continuously assessing, both suspicious of the other, but tentatively having a good time. Tank’s eyes kept falling to the dark corners of the room, just in case, but there were very few magical signatures in the entire building, let alone the distinct signature a vampire gave off. Sam’s eyes, Tank found, kept drifting to the two men on the dance floor, who’s eyes kept wandering back to Sam in turn. Tank found themselves following Sam’s eyes to the young men, one tall and blonde and the other a bit shorter and slim with similar dark waves to Sam’s. 

“Those your friends?” Tank asked, cocking their head. “Or boyfriends?” Sam’s cheeks went pink and he looked to be at a loss for words, coughing into his elbow. 

“Uh…not boyfriends . Try cousins, Darlin.” Something about the way Sam said it had Tank doubting it was the full truth. They pursed their lips and frowned a bit. “Keepin’ an eye on ‘em for my auntie.” 

An idea, probably a bad one, wormed its way into their mind and they smiled again. One surefire way to get Quinn, or any of Quinn’s friends, attention was to do the one thing that he was certain his Precious would never be able to do. Move on. It would be quick and messy if Quinn were to find out that not only had they moved on, but with a human? He would be furious! There was a small pit in their stomach at the thought of bringing Sam into the middle of this. He seemed nice enough and it would be cruel to bring anyone into Quinn’s atmosphere, let alone an unempowered human. But they wouldn’t let Quinn get away again. They would be able to have their pack and their life back. Worst case scenario, they could get in contact with some of the memory modifiers from D.U.M.P. 

Besides, he was cute.

—

Sam was surprised at how fast the lie fell from his mouth. Cousins was simpler and closer to the truth than friends or boyfriends , he figured. Taking care of a couple kid cousins was much easier to explain to this human than, Oh! The smaller one is my progeny, I turned him into a vampire after a sadistic maniac who also happens to be a vampire nearly killed him! And the tall one is his progeny because surprise surprise the leech didn’t stop after one and I only had the energy to turn one of them! So, they’re both kind of my kids for the foreseeable future and the only reason all three of us are in this club in the first place is to make sure they’re in their own heads enough to not tear apart every human they come across. 

He sighed, not missing the way they frowned at his lie. Maybe he wasn’t as good of a liar as he thought he was. They only frowned for a beat before that cocky smile spread across their lips again. They pushed a bit closer, pretty much between his denim-clad thighs now, eyes darting between his own eyes and his lips. He was blushing again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He idly noted how pretty Tank’s eyes were, lingering on his lips, their long lazy blinks, the way they crinkled when they laughed.

“So, not boyfriends ,” They drawled, a hand finding its way to his side and thumbing the warm skin between his shirt and the waist of his jeans. Goosebumps raised on his skin and his breath hitched. “You’re single then?” He was sure even the tips of his ears were beet-red now, but he took a long, slow drink from his beer to diffuse the tension sizzling between them. 

“Bold of you to assume.” Sam said, putting on a smirk of his own, feeling Bright and Fred’s eyes crawling over him. “But, yes, I am.” Despite his easy going attitude and his smirk, Sam felt as though he had an iron rod running up his spine. It had been a long time since someone had been this close, touched this softly. 

He’d been hit on before, plenty of times, whenever Vincent actually managed to drag him out of the house. They frequented smaller empowered bars on the edges of the D.A.M.N. campus; quieter than bustling clubs and private rooms for Vincent to get a quick bite. Sam still couldn’t stand the thought of biting someone. When anyone got this close, Sam found himself shying away, his skin crawling, and an uneasy feeling pooled in his stomach. He never let anyone touch like he was letting this stranger touch. And he was letting it happen. He waited patiently for that unease to settle in, but it never did. Instead, a hot, itching want seeped into his skin where Tank’s thumb pressed to his hip. 

It had been a very long time, however, since Sam’s fangs dropped unwillingly. His eyes went wide and he pressed his lips together. He tried to look casual, but the heat of his cheeks betrayed him. He was sure he was bright red. He forced an awkward laugh, cupping a hand over his mouth until he could force the fangs back into his gums. He was sure the attraction was purely carnal, that his body wanted something and his mind hadn’t fully caught up yet. Sam was rarely a “fuck it” kind of guy. He did everything with a purpose and reason in mind. But this human, this unempowered human, made “fuck it” feel like a good idea. When he felt steady again, he leaned forward until he was sure that he overtook Tank’s entire field of vision. It was his turn to be cocky and confident. 

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya, Darlin?” He mused. They blushed, their eyes finding their way to his lips again. He could hear their blood rushing in their ears so he was certain they could too. But they wanted to catch what he was saying, wanted to know what he wanted. He watched their eyes darken and that damned smirk graced their lips again. 

“That depends, cowboy,” They purred, taking half a step closer and looping their arms around his neck lazily. “Think you can handle trouble?” 

He was struggling to keep his teeth in his mouth again, but he smiled, arching an eyebrow at them. Sam really really wanted to kiss them. He wanted to kiss them until both of their lips bruised and then keep on kissing anyway. He wanted to keep kissing down their neck and to their collar bones, memorizing every scar along the way. He wanted to suck pretty marks onto their shoulders until he could taste their blood under the skin. God, his mouth was watering at the thought.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what to do with a troublemaker like you, Darlin.” Sam cupped the back of their neck and leaned in, watching their eyes flutter shut in anticipation of the kiss. His heart skipped a beat and suddenly he wasn’t quite so sure he wanted to rush this moment. But their scent was in his nose and he could practically taste the minty chapstick they were wearing and his mouth was watering again. 

Suddenly there was a clammy hand on his bicep and he jumped, having been completely lost in the moment. Fred’s hand was gripping hard enough to hurt a normal human and both his and Bright’s eyes were wide and agitated. 

“What’s wrong, Freddy?” Sam felt his progeny’s heart like it was his own again and he felt the consuming hunger building and echoing into his own body. 

“We’re hungry, Sam.” Fred’s voice was strained, but even. Bright just nodded quietly behind him and Sam could see the outline of Bright Eyes’ fangs through his lips. “We wanna go home.” Fred pleaded. 

“Shit.” Sam hissed, standing and patting Fred’s hand until he released Sam’s arm. “You boys go get in the truck, I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish things up with…with my friend, here.” He forced a smile and pushed his keys into Fred’s hand and nodded towards the exit. The boys pushed their way through the crowd and out the door. He turned to Tank who was staring down at their feet and awkwardly scuffing the toe of their boot on the dirty club floor. 

“I’m sorry, I really gotta go, Darlin.” Sam frowned, fishing in his pocket for his phone. 

“It’s alright, duty calls,” Tank smiled softly, their head cocked to the side to get a better look at his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to finish this another time.” 

“I, um…” He held out his phone limply, an almost pleading look in his eyes. “Can I get your number? Hold you to finishing this?” He tried to sound loose and confident like Tank, almost casual, but his heart was pounding. What if they said no? What if they were just looking to mess around for the evening? This was the first person that he was really truly interested in, in years. He wanted this. 

But Tank just smiled and took his phone, sent themselves a quick text, then checked on their own phone to make sure it went through. 

“Make me a promise, though, Sammy?” Tank asked, handing his phone back to him. 

“And what’s that, Darlin?” 

“Promise you won’t break my heart?” They batted those damned pretty eyes at him and any suave response he could’ve prepared went right out the window. He opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling very reminiscent of a goldfish. He shook his head to compose himself and grabbed Tank’s hand, pressing his lips between their knuckles. He maintained eye contact the whole time, smiling as he watched them blush. 

“Promise, Darlin.” Sam turned and jogged after his progenies, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the human who somehow managed to already tug on his heartstrings, but they’d already disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Everything was way too loud and way too smelly and way too crowded. Tank paced around the kennel of the shelter they’d been taken to, huffing through their nose and baring their teeth at any of the dogs that got too close. Shifting was entirely out of the question to get out. If they waited until the shelter closed, they might be able to get out, but they worried that if they did something irreparable to the kennels or doors that the other dogs might also get out. Thinking back, they tried to remember what little of the building they’d seen on their way in, dragging their feet and pulling on the slip lead that’d been placed on them. 

—

After the previous week’s pack meeting, somehow, Tank had been dragged into an argument about who was the fastest in the pack. Growing up, it had always been between David and Milo, Milo winning most of the races they’d had at teens. However, Tank had always been on their tails (literally, snapping their teeth and trying to get them to trip or misstep). And in their years on the run and admittedly getting into stupid scraps, they’d gotten smart about their speed. Sometimes you didn’t need to be the fastest, as long as you knew shortcuts, trusted your gut, and weren’t afraid to play a little dirty. Tank prided themselves on their ability to make quick getaways. 

It had been Milo’s idea to hold a race the next day, just after sunrise. After getting Sam’s approval, it would start at the very south edge of Wonderworld, and end at the pack’s den on the north end of town. If one went about it strategically, they could completely avoid any of the large roads that lead into the heart of Dahlia. They could stay in the woods for the entire run. All in all, with the pack’s enhanced speed and endurance, the race would probably take a little over half an hour. There hadn’t been any rules or a specific route set, so Tank was certain they could make it in twenty minutes. It was a bit childish, wanting to win a race that they knew they wouldn’t be able to win fair and square. But it would be completely worth it when they saw the looks on their pack’s face when they won and refused to share how’d they’d done it. 

So that was why the next morning, just before Sam’s patrol shift ended, Tank had stripped and shifted and sent Sam home with their clothes. Every shifter had a change of clothes at the den. Granted, it had been a few years since Tank had put new clothes in the closet. Their muscles had filled out a significant amount since then, but with the poor way they tended to their body, they’d cut weight since then as well. They were just banking that the den would have a pair of scissors to cut the sleeves off of whatever shirt they had waiting for them.

It wasn’t long until Milo, David, and Asher showed up. David and Asher rode together while Milo rode with his mate, who would be starting the race for them then heading to the Department for their shift. David’s mate was waiting at the den to finish the race, but Tank wouldn’t be surprised if they fell back asleep on the porch while they waited for everyone to show up. Tank barked excitedly and leapt from the bench they’d been waiting from. They weaved between the boys as they tugged their clothes off to shift, tripping them and wagging their tail. 

Milo’s mate looked tired as they rolled their eyes. They hugged a warm thermos to their chest as they waited for the four massive wolves to line up at the turnstiles that had once been the entrance to the theme park. Tank attempted to goad Asher and Milo into playing, before David bit out a sharp bark and huffed, rolling his head to encourage the three of them to get in line and allow Milo’s mate to get to work in time. Tank just rolled their eyes as much as they could but followed the unspoken order and padded up beside Asher, just a step or two behind them. They had a plan. 

Milo nuzzled at his mate with a happy, rumbly sound as they scratched behind his ear. Tank heard the stealth speaking softly with Milo about dinner plans before nudging him in the right direction and allowing him to line up with the other three. The syrupy sweet smile on their face dropped as they pulled their jacket in closer around themselves and raised their voice. 

“Alright guys, just don’t be stupid. I don’t want to get called down to bail you guys out again.” Ash whined high in his throat and David’s ears pinned back, stomping his huge front paw on the cracked pavement. “Yeah, yeah, I know it wasn’t you, David.” Milo’s mate rolled their eyes and pulled their keys from their pocket. 

“Three…two…one, go! See you at home, babe!”

Tank shot off about half a second after the others, letting them pull just slightly ahead without making it look like they were throwing the race. David took the lead at first, darting into the forest surrounding the park and the others followed the black-furred streak. It wasn’t long before Milo overtook him however, light and agile, darting through smaller gaps between trees that the others couldn’t. Even Asher pulled ahead of Tank, which was rare, and they could hear him laughing through the link.

Once the boys fell into a steady pace, Tank let themselves fall farther behind. Then once they were sure they weren’t paying attention to them anymore, they turned and ran themselves out to the very edge of the forest, pouring on more speed until they found the road that they had planned for their shortcut. The sky was starting to get brighter, but even still, most people would already be at work or school by now, the roads would be mostly empty. Tank had studied the map of this part of town extensively the night before. If they cut through the roads rather than taking the roundabout way through the woods, it would shave nearly 15 minutes off the run and they would win without a doubt. They took a small breather before taking off again, their breath coming out in puffs of steam from their nose as they ran. 

Tank wasn’t going full speed, instead taking their time to make it look like it was no big deal by the time they arrived at the den. It would be good to spend some time with David’s mate alone. The two were getting progressively closer as Tank fell back into the swing of pack life. It helped that they were engaged to what was essentially Tank’s older brother. The wedding invite was hanging proudly on the fridge at home. They would make coffee for the alpha’s mate once they got there, they decided. The idea of a warm drink had them smiling as much as they could as a wolf and they bolted across the second to last road before they would reach the dirt driveway that led to the den. 

Or at least they meant to cross the road as quickly as possible. A black sedan barrelled down on them before Tank or the driver could comprehend it. Frozen in the headlights, they braced for impact as their feet refused to carry them forward. 

—

Everything hurt. Tank peeled their eyes open, whining and trying to pull themselves to their feet. They were still in wolf form– that was good. If the driver hit a wolf, then came to check on them and found a human body, that could be bad. Their legs refused to hold them up and they fell back on their side. The bright headlights were still shining on them and they examined themselves as much as they could. There wasn’t any blood that they could see, but they could taste it in their mouth. Maybe a few loose teeth. And everything appeared to be the right shape, though a quick check found that they couldn’t feel one of their front legs. Sam could fix it. They wanted Sam. They’d been dragged to safety on the side of the road. Their ears pricked as they heard frantic crying. 

The driver was out of their car, pacing along the side of the road with their phone pressed to their ear. 

“No, Aaron, you don’t understand! I hit a dog! Like a really big dog! I don’t know what to do. I don't think it’s dead, but I can’t pick it up and it won’t fit in my car! We have to help it!” The driver let out a choked sob and they nodded along as the person on the other end of the phone spoke. Their eyes cut to Tank and widened when they saw that the wolf was awake. 

“Oh my god, Aaron, get in the truck and get down here please! It’s awake now and it needs help!” The driver scrambled over to the wolf and fell to their knees. Tears ran freely down their face and they placed gentle hands in Tank’s fur around their neck. 

“No, it’s not wearing a collar, just hurry up! The humane society in town has a vet’s office attached, they can take care of it!” The gentle hands stayed in their fur. That felt nice. Wait. The humane society? The shelter downtown? They couldn’t go there. Their vision was getting fuzzy and they whined dropping their head into the driver’s lap. They wanted Sam. Their phone clattered to the pavement and the driver sniffled. 

“Don’t worry, puppy, my boyfriend’s coming and we’re gonna help you. You’re gonna be okay.” Tank just whined and lapped gently and the driver’s hands as their tears fell. They knew they had to get up. They couldn’t go to a shelter. But they couldn’t find the strength to stand, let alone run. They couldn’t even find the strength to shift despite what would be a huge Covert breach. Oh god they were gonna be in so much trouble. But for now, they were so so tired and the driver took their jacket off and draped it over them as the wolf shivered. 

Maybe just a quick nap wouldn’t be so bad. They wanted Sam. Another whine, completely pitiful and weak, and the driver was sniveling again. Tank closed their eyes. 

They wanted Sam. 

—

Tank drifted in and out of consciousness after the man with the truck showed up. He helped his partner roll them over onto the driver’s jacket so they could drag them to the bed of the truck and haul them up into it. Despite the lack of safety measures, the driver refused to leave their side, instead settling down beside them in the bed of the truck and telling the man, Aaron, to drive carefully but fast to the shelter. They promised that they would come back for their car later and Aaron in turn, promised that he would buy them a new jacket to replace the torn and filthy one they were still laying on. 

In a way, it was oddly comforting, having the driver beside them. The adrenaline and uncertainty of their situation pounded through their veins and though they still didn’t have the energy to move or shift, they were firmly awake through the entire ride. The driver had stopped crying but was still worriedly running their fingers through Tank’s fur as their surroundings became more urban.

Aaron had called ahead to the humane society, evidently, because there were people waiting outside with a stretcher. 

“It’s gonna be okay, puppy, these people are gonna make you feel better.” The driver promised with a weak smile. Aaron parked and got out of the truck, going to speak with the veterinarians quietly as his partner stayed with Tank in the truck bed. 

“I would take you home with me if I could. Aaron’s allergic to dogs, though. And our house is too small for you.” They looked sad. “But I’m sure someone will adopt you. Lots of people love big dogs!” Tank just blinked and stared at the driver carefully. They’d certainly dodged a bullet there. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about this person coming back for them. They had time to formulate a plan.

It wasn’t long before the vets and Aaron came to retrieve them. Tank whined and resisted the urge to snarl and snap as they were moved. As they were moved inside, Tank could hear the driver crying again and saw Aaron hug them tightly to comfort them. 

—

The whole veterinarian side of things had been torture. The poking, prodding, and bandaging hadn’t been nearly as gentle as how Sam would have done it. The thought of him left a sharp, grating need in the back of their mind. They wanted him badly . He would know what to do in a situation like this. Hell, he wouldn’t have even gotten himself in this situation in the first place. 

Sam wouldn’t take a stupid shortcut to win a stupid race or get himself hit by a stupid car and wind up in a stupid shelter where they couldn’t talk to anyone to get their stupid, sorry ass home. No one even knew where their stupid, sorry ass was.  

What was worse than all of the medical care was the wet dog food they were spoon fed until they had the strength to haul themselves to their feet and turn tail. Drinking out of a water bowl had been only slightly less humiliating. And when they were finally released to the free-roam part of the shelter to rest, it was easily early afternoon. 

They paced back and forth thoughtfully, wincing at any pressure put on their front left leg. Finally they laid themselves down in one of the corners and resisted the urge to gnaw at the cast wrapped around their leg. They felt eyes carefully watching them and they clocked the cameras in all corners of the room with a frustrated huff. 

There were humans everywhere. A few magical signatures in the building, but it was hard to tell where they were coming from and they doubted any magical person in their right mind would assume a magical signature was coming off of one of the dogs . 

Daylight poured in through the windows, just another reminder that Sam wasn’t there and he couldn’t be there. In a moment of weakness, they wanted to cry. Not just the breathless, soundless sobs that racked their body in the middle of the night when they tried not to wake Sam, but huge, crocodile tears that would leave them feeling exhausted and sick to their stomach. Instead they whined and rested their head between their paws. They pretended they were stretched out in front of Sam’s fireplace and tried to fall asleep again to pass the time. 

It was near impossible to rest with all the noise, but Tank was able to achieve a shallow sleep for an hour or so before a familiar voice woke them in an instant. The voice cut through all the others and stuck out even above the barking of the dogs. 

“I’m really sorry I’m late! My fiance was having some family troubles and I was helping him out.” The voice explained. Tank stood and limped to the edge of the kennel, straining their neck to stare at the door that led to what they were assuming was the business part of the building. They didn’t try to listen to the response, but they heard the familiar voice laugh cheerily. 

“I know it’s a volunteer position and I don’t have to be here at any particular time, but I like giving you guys some consistency! Besides, I know the dogs like having some routine too!” They laughed again as the person they were talking to responded. They caught the words ‘new arrival’ and ‘grumpy’ and knew in an instant that the person was talking about them. Tank's lip raised and they growled under their breath. 

“Oh, I’m an expert in grumpy! I mean you’ve seen my fiance, right? He’s like the king of grumpy!” The door opened and revealed the lady that had been at the front desk when Tank had been brought back and their savior. 

David’s mate stood in the doorway with the desk lady, holding one of those stupid slip leads, presumably there to walk shelter dogs in their free time. Tank loped back and forth along the edge of the kennel, raising their head and howling lowly. They barked and wagged their tail, drawing both of the human’s attention. They watched Angel’s face process both what they were seeing and hearing. Confusion, then denial, more confusion, then surprise and shock. 

Angel rushed at the fence and laughed somewhat breathlessly. The desk lady followed behind, laughing herself. 

“Well, that’s the new arrival I was telling you about! Don’t look so grumpy now, do you?” The lady said. Tank glared at her then went back to pushing their head into Angel’s hand through the chainlink. “Person who brought them in just kept calling them Puppy, so that’s what we’ve been calling them too.” 

Angel laughed again, pulling their hand away. Tank shoved their snout through the hole in an attempt to follow it. 

“Clara, you’re never gonna believe me, but this is the family trouble I was telling you about!” 

“What, Puppy? Puppy’s your fiance’s family trouble?” The woman, Clara, asked, cocking an eyebrow at Angel in disbelief. 

“Well, actually, Puppy’s name is Tank and Tank is…” They watched Angel scramble for an explanation, a blush rising on their cheeks. They were a horrible liar. Always bombed on pack poker nights. 

“Tank is my fiance’s…brother…in-law’s…dog.” They fumbled through the lie, the tips of their ears burning red hot and an uncomfortable look on their face. David had trained them well though. When you need to lie, it's best to stick as close to the truth as humanly possible. 

“Tank…Like David’s younger sibling? The one you told me about?” Clara asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Angel’s eyes flew wide. Curse their big, friendly mouth! 

“Funny coincidence, huh?” Angel laughed loudly, pulling their phone out of their back pocket. “Well, I’ll just call David to come get Tank here and we’ll all go take them home together!” They were quick to pull up David’s contact and call him, signaling to a very confused looking Clara that the conversation was now over. She saw herself out. 

—

It wasn’t long before Tank found themselves in the bed of another truck, this one much more familiar. When David showed up, he simply snapped his fingers and Tank was at his side, trying to play the part of an obedient dog. They pointedly chose to ignore the conversation happening between David and his mate happening in the cab of the truck and instead chose to focus on the misty air on their face, clearing away the cloying feeling that the shelter left on their fur.

Once they were in the driveway, Tank whined at the sight of more than just Sam’s dusty blue truck. Milo, Ash’s, and now David’s cars all lined the driveway. Oh god, they were in so much trouble. They saw Ash and Milo come out to greet them on the porch and they felt their ears pin back and they whined again. Without thinking, Tank leapt from the bed of the truck, letting out a sharp yip as pain shot up their leg. They swerved around David getting out of his truck and the boys at the door and ran in, their tough demeanor weakening with each step 

Sam was waiting just inside. His face softened at the neon green cast encasing the length of their leg, but he was quiet, knowing his mate’s disdain for overly dramatic shows of sympathy. They caught his sleeve between their teeth and dragged him up the stairs as David and his mate followed Asher and Milo back inside. They didn’t look back at the four of them, knowing what their faces would look like. Worried, angry, confused. It was the angry that they were most scared of. 

They were human again as soon as they were over the threshold of their room. The cast fell to the floor as the shape of their arm changed. They fell into Sam’s arms and the tears came much much faster than they expected. What surprised them even more was how loud they were. The cries shook through their body as they pushed closer to Sam, the close not feeling close enough. Their good hand gripped his shirt tightly. 

“Missed you so much, Sam, needed you,” They choked out. “Was so scared, didn’t know what I was gonna do. Hurts.” 

“I know, Darlin, I know,” Sam hummed, spinning them slightly and kicking the door shut behind them. His hands rubbed across their cool skin, careful to avoid their hurt arm. He was glad they weren’t looking at his face. He knew he looked worried. This crying was different from any display of emotion they’d shown before. “You gotta calm down though. You’re okay now, you’re home, we’re all here with you. We’re all here.” 

“Mad at me!” 

That had Sam pausing, his eyebrows furrowing. He gently pushed Tank away from him, just enough to look at them carefully. 

“Who’s mad, Darlin?” He pulled them onto the side of the bed with him, letting them sit as close as they wanted. 

“All of ‘em! I-I cheated in the race! Got hit by a car, made so much trouble for everyone! I’m gonna be in so much trouble!” Tank wailed, the words spilling out as they wiped furiously at their eyes. Sam frowned. Their breaths kept stuttering in their chest and Sam pet their hair. 

“Darlin, nobody’s mad. We were all worried . No one knew where you went or what had happened. I wanted to help, but the sun was up, so your pack’s been combing the woods all day. Only stopped when David’s mate called saying they’d found you.” Sam explained carefully. He listened to their pounding heart calm and the tears slow to a stop. Their face was red and overly warm, but he didn’t bring attention to it. 

Tank breathed out a quiet oh . They were pretty sure that was called catastrophizing. Sam had talked about it before. They weren’t supposed to be good at it, but they were a pro. 

It didn’t take much longer for Sam to get Tank calmed down, healed, and dressed. But they stayed upstairs for a bit longer, Sam lovingly brushing the knots and tangles out of his mate’s hair. They yawned, feeling their chaotic day catching up with them. 

“Y’ready to go downstairs, Darlin? I heard ‘em order pizza a little bit ago. Should be here any minute.” Sam said, setting the brush down on the bedside table and instead running his fingers through their hair, brushing it out of their eyes. 

“They heard me crying.” Tank said, voice barely above a whisper. “Never heard me cry before. Not even Ash.” 

“Well, there’s firsts for everything, Darlin. And all those boys are polite enough to not bring it up. And if they do, I…well, I can ask ‘em to leave. Sure you’re about ready for bed anyway.” Sam offered, pressing a kiss to their forehead. 

Deep breath in, slow breath out. Tank stood. 

“This is stupid. They’re my friends. They’re my friends.” They repeated to themselves, whispering it a few more times under their breath before swinging open the door and bounding down the stairs with a faux look of confidence on their face. 

Ash met them on the landing halfway down, throwing his arms around their shoulders and pulling them in for a tight hug. His voice was high and watery. 

“Tank, we were so worried!” 

Milo quickly joined the two of them on the landing and Ash shuffled to the side to allow Milo to join in on the hug. Tank tolerated it for longer than they normally would have, choking back a fresh wave of tears and pretending that their eyes weren’t burning. And instead of shoving them off, they simply pulled out of the hug and went downstairs to meet David and his mate lounging in the corner of Sam’s suede couch. Tank went for the opposite corner and crossed their arms over their chest in an attempt to look casual and unbothered. 

“So, I heard we’re doing pizza? I’m guessing Ash ordered wings too, right?” Tank asked, sniffing. “If they can find Sam’s place, am I right?” They forced a little laugh. David pulled away from his mate and moved closer to Tank, putting a hand on their shoulder.

“Ash and Milo are right, we were really worried. We’re glad you’re safe.” David said quietly, pulling them into a light hug by their shoulder. “And we’re really glad you have Sam to help you.” He whispered before pulling away and returning to his mate. Tank quickly wiped at their face and looked away from everyone else.

“I made Ash tip extra, so I’m hoping the dude actually finds the place, Tanka.” Milo piped up, breaking the fragile, emotional atmosphere they’d found themselves in. 

Tank knew exactly what their packmates had been worried about, even if no one had said it out loud. They were worried that they’d run again. That they’d run away and cut all ties and fall in with the wrong crowd again. 

Sometimes they considered it, running away. It seemed far easier than nurturing relationships that had wilted a long, long time ago. But then Ash and Milo were wrestling on the rug in front of the fireplace, David’s mate egging them on, and Sam had his arms around their shoulders, his coffee-breath on their skin as he laughed at their friends’ antics, warning them not to scuff his coffee table, and all thoughts of running away again were dashed. This was their family. This was where they belonged. This was home.

Chapter Text

A vampire and a werewolf walk into a late night diner.

Now stop me if you’ve heard this one before. 

Tank took a bite of the pumpkin pie they’d ordered, laughing at whatever Sam had said, their cheeks flushing pink at the sound coming out of their mouth. 

They were in deep deep shit. 

This whole “fake dating to get Quinn to come back into town” thing that they were doing was starting to feel a whole lot like “real dating because this guy is actually really nice and I enjoy spending time with him”. Aside from their (simply put) rocky relationship with Quinn that had only lasted all of a couple months, Tank had never dated anyone really. Sure, there were drunk hookups and a few sloppy make out sessions in the back of sleazy dive bars, but nothing like this. 

At first it had been easy, just pretending to like Sam enough to keep seeing him. Always at bars and clubs, always Tank’s decision on location, because Sam was a gentleman like that. Always after dark when Tank knew that Quinn and other vampires would be milling about. They’d both drink water or mocktails and dance for a couple hours, despite Sam’s insistence that he couldn’t and that he had two left feet. Tank was always close enough that it was clear that their “feelings” for Sam were romantic, but gentle and never pushy. Then things had shifted. 

—

They’d been seeing each other for a little over a month at the time. After a particularly rough day (about a million dead ends in their hunt for Quinn) Tank had asked Sam if he was okay with them drinking that night. They’d promised that they wouldn’t get blackout drunk, just needed a little something to take the edge off. Sam, seeing their tired eyes and downtrodden attitude, acquiesced. Normally he’d insist on some other form of coping with stress, but he’d felt that they weren’t close enough to be offering any kind of advice yet. 

So yeah, Tank had a couple beers and then maybe a shot or two or three. And then maybe Sam was practically dragging them to his truck to drive them home. They’d groaned and whined that they were fine, that they wanted to stay, but Sam had insisted this time around. He helped them into the passenger seat and even buckled them in after a moment's hesitation. He apologized when he touched them without letting them know first. He’d even jogged over to their car to make sure it was locked before joining them in the cab of the truck. Then he’d pulled an old grocery bag from the glove box in case they felt sick and brushed a few stray hairs from their sweaty forehead. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Darlin, I’ll get you home.” He’d said, his voice gentle and quiet. And Tank had stared. Stared at Sam like he hung the moon and made the stars shine just for them. No one had ever told them that something was going to be okay in a way that convinced them, but this human they were only just beginning to know had somehow managed it. A comfortable sort of warmth spread across their chest, fighting back the shots that threatened to make their way back up. Then Sam had started up his truck that smelled like wood smoke and fresh air and him , and drove them home, listening carefully to their half-hearted somewhat uncertain directions. 

He helped them into the shitty elevator and gently took their keys when they couldn’t quite get it in the keyhole. And Tank kept staring. He had his hand hooked around their waist, steady and firm, and got the door open with his other hand. They saw the way his face fell at their sparse living area but couldn’t find it within themselves to care too much. He walked them to the couch and helped them lay down, propping the lone throw pillow behind their head. Only when he knew they weren’t going to fall off the couch did he go back to close and lock the door. 

Tank drifted off to the sound of Sam rummaging in their kitchen, sighing and muttering to himself. He came back a while later with a glass full of water. He sat down on the floor beside the couch and nudged their shoulder, encouraging them to sit up. 

“Come on, ya gotta drink somethin’ before I head home.” He said quietly, brushing some hair behind their ear. Without really thinking about it, Tank leaned into the touch, their face warm and their eyes fluttering shut again. 

“Don’t want you to go.” 

Sam coughed and Tank’s eyes opened again. He was red, like when they touched his hips, or got too close to his neck. Red like the night they’d first met. They sat up, feeling suddenly very unsure of themselves.

“What was that, Darlin?” 

“I…I don’t want you to go. You didn’t dance with me.” They explained and maybe it was the tequila talking. They took the glass of water from Sam’s hand. Sam only chuckled. 

“Well, beggin’ your pardon, sunshine, but I was a little busy making sure you didn’t fall face first into the bar. Forgive me if I thought you’d’ve busted something besides a move on the dance floor.” 

Tank blushed but smiled, lightly kicking Sam with the toe of their boot. They drank the water slowly, their eyes never straying from Sam. He watched them too, twisting a loose thread at the hem of his pant leg. They finished the water and set the glass down on the floor next to Sam. 

“I want you to stay.” And it was so different from ‘I don’t want you to leave’ that it had their heart pounding in their ears. 

They watched Sam’s nice smile morph into something a little more sad and he pat their knee gently. 

“I wish I could, Darlin. I got, uh,” He bit his lip. “I got work in the mornin’.” He finally decided, his cheeks flushing again. Work. Right, Sam worked in real estate. Not an agent, more of an inspector. Tank frowned as Sam stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“I’ll get ya some more water before I head out.” He said quietly, his voice small and guilty. Tank watched him go, laying back down on the couch, holding the throw pillow to their chest this time. When Sam came back they were feeling drowsy and embarrassingly enough, sad. He knelt on one knee, setting the glass down on the coffee table before cupping their cheek and tilting his head to meet their watery eyes. 

“I’m real sorry, Darlin. I would stay if I could.” He punctuated his apology with a brush of his big calloused thumb along their cheek. Tank sniffled. “I’ll text you, okay, just get some good rest and keep drinking water?” He leaned close and Tank’s heart leapt, but his warm lips only met their forehead before pulling away. They caught him by the back of his neck and gave him a wide-eyed look, their cheeks burning red. 

“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you, Sam?” They asked sincerely, like it was the most important thing in the world. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Sam asked, smiling that sad smile again. “I promise I won’t break your heart.”  

Then, Sam had left and for the first time in months, Tank slept with the door unlocked. And when they woke in the morning, there were a few grocery bags outside the door. Milk, eggs, a loaf of bread, a bottle of their favorite flavor of gatorade, and a bag of fresh oranges. All with a note that read: 

“Noticed you were missing a few essentials, thought I’d do you a favor. 

See you soon, Darlin”

Tank couldn’t remember when they’d told Sam that they loved oranges or how long it’d been since they’d had one. 

Things had been different since then.

—

Sam watched Tank eat their pumpkin pie, pushing his slice of cherry around his plate. 

“Still don’t know how you can stomach that stuff.” Sam chuckled, taking a bite of his own pie while making a playful albeit disgusted face. 

“Sammy, I’m seriously concerned for you if you don’t like pumpkin pie. What do you eat at Thanksgiving?” They asked him, laughing. 

“Darlin, I’m a red blooded son of the south. An American.” He teased. “You don’t put a damn vegetable in a pie unless it’s a chicken pot pie. You’re lucky they even serve that this time a’ year!” 

Sam laughed. It felt good to laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long, long time. Tank was good at making him laugh, whether they meant to or not. He’d even laughed when they’d gotten kicked out of the last club they were in, though it had been a while since either of them opted for a bar or club. The man had gotten too close more than once and after several warnings from both him and Tank, the man decided to take the quick route and smack Tank’s ass. It wasn’t long before a circle had cleared around them, watching and jeering as Tank wailed on the man, bloodying his face as well as their knuckles. 

“Mm, that’s where you’re wrong, cowboy,” Tank said around a mouthful of pie. “I’m like 99% sure that pumpkin is a fruit!” Sam took another bite of his cherry pie and pointed his fork at them with a playful glare. 

“I’m not a godforsaken cowboy, Darlin.” He chuckled, taking a sip of the sweet tea he’d ordered. 

“I’ll stop calling you cowboy when you stop calling me “darlin”.” Tank shot back, smiling that all consuming, cocky smile again. They had whipped cream on their cheek. He reached forward, brushing it off with his thumb and letting his hand linger on the side of their face. He felt their skin heat and turn pink under his touch. 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer sweetheart? Baby doll? Sugar? Pumpkin?” Sam chuckled at his own joke and pulled his hand away. He popped his thumb in his mouth and sucked it clean, smirking as their blush went from pink to red and their mouth gaped open like a fish. 

Then suddenly their face hardened as the bells above the door rang and a tall blonde man with a loud crackly voice in blue plaid pajama pants made his way in. Their nostrils flared and they sank a bit in their seat. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, suddenly on high alert. “You feelin’ okay, Darlin?” 

—

Tank felt their eyes dart from Sam’s flint-grey eyes to his lips as they wrapped around his thumb. Starstruck. Their heart leapt into their throat and their mouth was dry. Their ears burned with their blush and they knew at once exactly how fucked they were. 

It wasn’t purely a physical attraction like they thought. Though, that was certainly part of it. They liked Sam’s broad shoulders and his long dark eyelashes. They liked the way his stubble felt on their skin when he bent down to speak in their ear over the loud music in clubs. They liked his warm hands. They wanted his scent on their skin, they wanted to hear his laugh ringing in their ears forever and ever. They’d do anything to hear it. Do anything to have his hands on their skin. Do anything to see his smile. They wanted him more than anything they’d wanted in their entire life. 

The jingling of the small bell above the door broke them free of the cloying, alien thoughts of Sam in their brain. An all-too-familiar scent flooded their nostrils and they shrunk into the squeaky vinyl booth they were sitting in, their heart thudding in their chest uncomfortably. They hoped their grown out hair and the “appear human to inhumans” charms they’d put on themselves would be enough to hide them from an old friend. They felt their nostrils flare as they scented the room again, just to be sure. Sam wouldn’t be able to pick it up with his human ears from across the restaurant, but Tank heard him loud and clear, speaking with the hostess at the front of the diner. 

“I have a pick-up order under Asher Talbot.” A pause. “Yeah, I can wait a few minutes, is it cool if I sit at the counter?” 

Definitely him. Asher Talbot, their pack beta. In a pair of ripped, stained pajama pants, a Shaw Security hoodie that had seen better days, and a pair of what looked like shark slippers . Didn’t even have the decency to brush through his curls, they were sticking up in random cowlicks at the back of his scalp.

“What’s wrong? You feelin’ okay, Darlin?” Sam asked, his eyes wide and moving around the restaurant to see if he could spot his companion’s source of anxiety. They tugged at the hood of their sweatshirt, not quite pulling it over their head but covering the back of their neck and over the pulse point in the column of their throat. If Asher spotted them, or, God forbid, came over to talk to them, they would really be in big trouble. Lying to one’s alpha was not something taken lightly. Tank forced a smile in Sam’s direction. 

“Mhmm!” They hummed and nodded tightly, unwilling to talk, lest Ash’s nosy ass hear them. They glanced over their shoulder in his direction, just for a split second, but they saw the moment his curiosity mounted. He lifted his head, clearly scenting the air. He’d never been good at hiding the more canine parts of himself, but then again, neither had Tank.

They were quick to turn back to Sam when they saw Asher’s head turn towards their direction, following their no-doubt familiar scent. Suddenly their breaths were shallow and catching in their chest, their face warm and not because of the gentle, concerned look Sam was giving them. 

“Shit!” They hissed, biting the inside of their cheek. They heard his scraping footsteps in those stupid fucking slippers he was wearing. On pure instinct, their hand flew out and gripped Sam’s. His warm fingers quickly laced with theirs and his eyebrows shot up. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Darlin, just take a deep breath and let me know what’s…wrong…” Sam’s voice trailed off just as Tank looked down and saw two pairs of beady shark eyes staring back up at them. 

Oh they were so so fucked!

“Can we help you, uh…sir?” Sam asked, not unkindly. 

Shut up! Just shut up and maybe he’ll go away!

Instead of answering Sam, Tank felt Ash’s burning gaze lingering on them. They lifted their head to stare at the leaking syrup dispenser at the table, looking anywhere but at Asher or Sam. 

“Tanker, is that you?” He asked. Then, he was sliding into the booth beside them, smiling to beat the band. Finally Tank lifted their eyes to Sam. An unreadable look flashed across his face before changing to indignance towards Asher. He was still holding their hand tightly. 

Oh god. They were holding hands. Tank had grabbed Sam’s hand and he hadn’t pulled away. Asher was gonna tell everyone . 

“Almost didn’t recognize you with that long hair! Do they not do haircuts in Washington or are you just trying something new?” He asked, not noticing or not caring about the skittish display they were putting on. He curled one of his long bony fingers in a lock of hair at the nape of their neck, but they were quick to pull away from his touch. 

Sam cleared his throat, a careful, controlled anger now overtaking his features. Tank screamed in their head and finally looked over at Asher. 

“Hi, Ash.” They said in a tight, almost fearful voice. What were they doing? They weren’t scared of Asher. He was a friend. But right now he was a friend that was most definitely going to tattle on them. Both to David for lying through their teeth (or through their texts, rather) and to the rest of the pack for being on a date. 

“Ah! They speak!” He announced smiling before turning to Sam with an excited, friendly look on his face. “I’m Asher, it’s really nice to meet you!” He stuck out his hand for a shake, but Sam just stared at it. 

“Sam.” 

Tank watched Asher watch Sam staring at his outstretched hand, then watched his eyes move from Sam to Sam’s hand. Which was linked with their hand. His smile somehow got wider. 

“Oh god, am I interrupting? I’m so sorry!” Ash said in a tone that said he wasn’t sorry at all. He bounced his eyebrows up and down at Tank, his smile turning to a shit eating smirk as they pulled their hand away from Sam’s with a blush. 

“Look, I hate to be rude here, fella, but who exactly are you to my friend here?” Sam asked, his voice hard. Ash let out a breathy laugh. 

“Friend. Riiiight…” He gave an exaggerated wink. Tank groaned and hid their face in their hands. “But, no yeah, fair question! I’m Tank’s be-” 

“Best friend!” Tank blurted, cutting off Asher and giving him an incredulous look. What the hell was he thinking? Sam would think they were both crazy if he said that he was Tank’s beta. The second in command of their wolf pack that Tank had both been hiding from and lying to. Both Asher and Sam stared at them. Tank groaned again and rolled their eyes, scooting out of the booth and shoving Asher out in front of them. 

“Ash, can we talk outside real quick? Cool, great. We’ll be right back, Sam.” Asher was fumbling for words as Tank shoved him towards the front door. “And you better not pay the bill, it’s my turn!” They called to Sam behind them. 

“It was good meeting you, Sam! Let’s do this again sometime!” Asher gave his blinding smile at the man left confused at the booth. 

—

Sam fumed when the werewolf touched his Darlin’s hair. 

Wait.

His Darlin? When had he started thinking of them as his? He had no claim on them, hadn’t bitten them. But even still, with his wolf nose, this Asher character should’ve been able to sense some sort of bond between the two of them. Regardless, he shook his head, clearing the possessive thought from his head. He liked them, sure, but there’d been no discussion of exclusivity between the two of them. Though he would have smelled if they’d been seeing anyone else. And they hadn’t. 

Even after Tank’s blurted admission that the two of them were friends, close ones at that, Sam was wary of Asher. He was oddly personal with both of them and he’d completely interrupted their date and made Tank pull away just as they were letting their towering walls down for him again. 

Sam let his thoughts stray again, back to the defining characteristics of him and his relationship with this human he was seeing. He hadn’t seen anyone this seriously since Alexis and Alexis had known about magic, was magic. He’d never ever been with an unempowered human before. Asher was a werewolf. Even if Sam couldn’t smell it, he had happy-go-lucky dog written all over him. Surely, if he was Tank’s best friend, he would have told them about shifters and magic in general.

Maybe they already knew. If he wanted to keep seeing them, which he did, badly, he would have to tell them about himself eventually. He’d have to call the Department to check if they were on the Informed Unempowered List. He prayed to God that he wouldn’t have to take that awful class on informing unempowered humans. 

Even though he wasn’t quite sure what to make of Asher, he was at least tentatively grateful to him in that aspect. 

He waited patiently for the two of them to return. Eventually, the kind waitress, a water elemental from the feel of it, came and dropped off both the check and Asher’s soaring pillar of to-go boxes. 

Sam paid the bill.

Chapter Text

Asher rushed through the cobblestone streets, following after Angel who weaved between people on deft feet while he had to shove his way through the crowds. His heart pounded in his chest as they made their way through the busy town. People were staring. There was no way in hell they weren’t getting arrested. He’d believed Angel when they’d said they’d come from a wealthy family in a wealthy city, but this was a far cry from what he’d imagined. 

The two of them stuck out like sore thumbs in their tattered clothes and leather. Their colors of bright jewel tones and earthy tints were screaming against the backdrop of neutral hued petticoats and cravats. Asher did his best to seem inconspicuous, but it was hard when he was almost a head, if not more, above the rest of the crowd and the scabbard holding his cutlass kept whacking people in the shins as he tried to keep up with his captain’s lover. 

Angel suddenly seemed to find the building they were looking for and grabbed Asher’s hand, dragging him inside the dimly lit store. He sighed when the noise of the crowd quieted, but the speed of his heart didn’t lessen. 

“Angel, you better know what you’re doing, because we’ve got maybe 15 minutes before the city guard is gonna be breaking down that door. We’re already gonna be lucky if the ship goes unnoticed!” Asher hissed, scanning the room. The shelves were filled with dried herbs and colorful bottles filled with liquids and lozenges. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, ready to pull if necessary. 

“Well, then you better let me do the talking.” Angel pulled off their hat and shook out their hair, putting their small ‘rich kid’ smile on. “And take off your hat, you look like a pirate.” They winked and made their way over to the shopkeeper. Asher scoffed but did as he was told, hanging close to the windows to keep an eye out for any guards. 

The shopkeeper, a young man with long dark hair and brown eyes, was speaking amicably with a young woman, handing her bundles of dried plants and a few bottles, explaining everything in an even voice as she piled them into her basket. Angel sauntered up and rang the small bell on the counter, giving a big smile and keeping their hands behind their back. All the polite society manners they’d learned growing up were starting to evolve into something more mischievous. It almost always looked like they were up to something now. Both the man and woman turned to look at them as they rang the bell. The woman’s eyebrows rose until they hid beneath her bangs and she gasped, clearly appalled at the sight of the heavy jewelry that hung from Angel’s neck and the delicate gold filigree that decorated their canine teeth. The woman let out a small ‘eep’ noise and dropped her basket before fleeing out the front door. 

“Goddammit…” Asher breathed, bolting the door behind the woman. “Okay, now you really need to hurry!” He called to the front. The shopkeeper seemed to take in the sight of them and his lip curled. 

“I don’t want any trouble.” He said in the same calm, even voice he’d been using to explain the medicine to the woman. 

“Is that any way to greet an old friend, Sammy?” Angel grinned and leaned forward on the counter, standing on their tip-toes to get up in the shopkeeper, Sam’s, face. Sam backpedaled half a step, his eyes wide. 

“Angel?” He stammered out. “What the hell…I heard you’d run away, but this? Really?” They just grinned their shit-eating grin at him and put their hat back on. 

“Love does crazy things to a person, Sammy!” They sang. “Listen, I need a favor. Like a really big favor.” Asher came to join them upfront, whipping out one of the smaller blades on his belt. He rammed it into the wooden counter, causing Sam to jump back again. 

“This really isn’t the time for pleasantries. We’ve got maybe, maybe five minutes before we get dragged out of here. They’ll take you back to your family and it’ll be my sexy ass in the gallows!” He ground out behind his clenched teeth. He turned to Sam. 

“Listen, healer. A member of our family is sick and dying. You’re coming with us whether you like it or not. And if we don’t get arrested or killed on our way out of here, we’ll pay you triple whatever a usual house-call costs. And we’ll bring you back. Eventually.” 

—

Sam stared at the pirate threatening him. His hands were shaking and his eyes burned with a fearful passion that had Sam’s heart softening. His own hands started to shake as he struggled to form an answer. His eyes darted between the tall man and his old friend, who was clearly in leagues with the pirate. The tall one growled and pulled out a small pistol and aimed it between his eyes, his hands no longer shaking. 

“We don’t have time for this! Either you’re coming with us willingly,” He aimed the gun towards Sam’s feet. “Or I’m shooting you in the foot and I’m dragging you with us.” His eyes never wavered from Sam’s and he bared his teeth. He had three silver teeth in a row lining his bottom gums. 

“Let me go grab my kit.” Sam steadied himself, though his heart was pounding. He gestured to the door behind him, leading to his office. The man sighed and sheathed his pistol, jerking his head from Angel to the door. 

“Follow ‘im.” 

Sam gathered as much as he could think of, Angel simply shaking their head when he reached for the small gun he kept in his bureau. Tucking it all into his satchel, he made his way back out front. The man had pulled his gun back out and he was waiting at the front door. 

“Alright, I heard the guard’s bells maybe thirty seconds ago, so we’ve gotta run like hell. You guys ready?” 

Angel grinned with a wild look in their eyes and gripped the strap of Sam’s satchel. 

“Let’s go!” 

The pirate kicked the door down and all hell broke loose. Angel and their friend took the lead, Angel dragging Sam behind them. The man raised his arm straight up and fired several shots into the air, causing people to scream and scatter, clearing a path straight through the square and to the docks. He broke into a dead sprint and Angel followed, blowing past him with Sam directly on their heels. Sam heard the shout of guards and the clank of their weapons. He turned just in time to watch the pirate fire another two shots into the wall of men charging towards them. He gasped and nearly tripped. He watched as the man started pushing over barrels and breaking down open-air shops to obscure the path behind them. 

Adrenaline pumped through Sam’s body and he was moving so fast it almost felt like his feet weren’t even touching the ground. He thought back to all the books he’d read growing up. Of adventures and daring chases, just like this one, and he almost smiled, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He thought of one he’d read when he was especially young, and had just learned to read. A story of a princess being kidnapped by pirates to help them find an enchanted treasure. Sam had always wondered why they didn’t just steal the princess’s gold, instead of searching for riches that might not even exist. In this scenario, that would make him the princess. He scowled at the thought. 

It wasn’t long before the cobblestone streets changed to slippery wooden docks and Sam did trip, falling on his front. The other pirate had caught up with them and helped him to his feet so they could keep running. 

“Stupid fuckin’ twat, get up!” 

Angel raced on ahead and they seemed to catch sight of their ride. At the very end of the docks was a massive ship, not quite as fancy as the naval fleet that lined the docks, but well-kept nonetheless. They started waving and the man dragging Sam did as well. 

“Raise anchor, let’s go!” The two of them shouted an array of commands, causing the visible crew on deck to scramble, getting the ship in order to set sail. Angel was the first on board, quickly followed by Sam and then the man, kicking the wooden plank they’d nearly cracked on their mad dash to get on board into the water so no one could follow. 

Sam fell to his knees, gasping for breath and wiping sweat from his brow. He felt like his heart was going to fly from his chest if it moved any faster. He put a hand on his chest in an attempt to steady it. The sun beat down on the back of his neck and he lurched forward as the ship pulled away from the docks. A shadow fell across his face and Sam looked up to find the most intimidating group of people he’d seen in his life gathered around him, glaring. 

Angel was held tight to the side of a very large man and they were smiling dreamily up at him. Most of the crew sneered at him, holding their weapons tightly within view as a threat. But this man held no weapon and stared down at him with a neutral look that was almost more terrifying. His skin was tan and weather-beaten and when he opened his mouth to talk, Sam saw that he had gold ornaments on his teeth, matching with his lover. 

“The Healer, I presume?” 

His voice was low and quiet, but the crew all listened with rapt attention. The captain. Sam immediately went to pull himself to his feet, but the man that had been with Angel helped him up, more gently than the first time he’d done it. 

“Sorry I cursed at you, man. I promise, I’m usually much nicer.” He said to Sam. He smiled just a little bit, but he was still full of nervous energy, his hands starting to shake again. The captain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Asher, you’re the first mate of one of the most feared crews in the region, you’re not supposed to be nice.” He pulled away from Angel and stuck his hand out. He had a few worn golden rings on his hand and two that were in much better condition hanging from a chain around his neck. 

“I’m Captain David Shaw. You may call me Captain or Sir until you’ve proven your worth to me and my family.” 

Sam shook his hand and the rest of the crew aside from Angel and Asher went about their jobs. He pulled his hand away and Sam wiped his hand on his pants nervously. 

“Samuel, um Sam Collins, sir.” He stuttered out, winding his hands around the strap of his satchel. David just huffed softly and nodded. 

“Angel, Asher, show our friend below deck to his patient. Oh, and Mr. Collins? If you do anything to harm any member of my crew, I’ll slit your throat myself.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide and David gave him something that could almost be considered a smile. He turned to the man behind the massive wheel of the vessel. 

“Miguel! Find some calm waters, fast! The healer will need a steady ship.” 

—

Asher led Sam down below deck while Angel followed behind them. 

“So, um, the captain is your um, lover?” Sam asked in a quiet voice, taking in the area around him while glancing back at Angel. 

“Betrothed, actually!” They chirped happily, practically skipping. They were more comfortable on this pirate ship than Sam had ever seen them growing up. Asher laughed along with them. 

“Yeah, the big guy even named the ship for them and everything! The Halo!” He announced the name in a dramatic voice. “Pretty over the top wedding present if you ask me, but I’d do the same thing if I had a ship of my own.” 

Asher weaved his way into a large room with a surprisingly nice bed in it. A man was leaned up on the doorway, watching the two people at the bedside of Sam’s supposed patient. The man followed them inside and closed the door behind them, then he was at Sam’s throat with a dagger. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He growled, backing Sam up against the wall. Angel put a hand on the man’s shoulder, smiling kindly. 

“Relax, Milo. It’s the old friend I was telling you guys about, He’s here to help.” 

Milo sucked his teeth but backed off and tucked the dagger away. Sam sucked in a deep breath and tentatively walked to the foot of the bed. Asher was practically in the lap of one of the people, kissing their neck. 

“How are we doin’ in here, Babe?”

“Not great, but we’re doing our best.” Their voice was soft and kind, and Asher peppered their skin with light kisses as they spoke. The other person spoke up as well. 

“I can do stitches just fine, but I can’t treat infections if I don’t know they’re there. Let alone when they get this far along.” They sighed and Sam was drawn to them, as they were clearly the one with the most healing experience. He set down his satchel and stood beside them. They looked up at him with scrutinizing eyes. 

“So you’re the fancy-pants healer, huh? I did some field medicine, but I was a soldier, not a healer. I’ve done all that I know how to do.” 

“You’ve done a great job, Sweetheart.” Milo palmed the back of the former soldier’s neck as they stood and allowed Sam to take their seat. He pressed a kiss to their cheek as Sam took a look at his patient. 

God, this really was a motley crew. Runaway rich kids and former royal soldiers. Moreover, a lot of them seemed coupled together, attached at the hip. It was unlike any pirate ship he’d ever read about or imagined. Sure, they were all a little rough around the edges, but there was an air of tenderness about the ship. These people cared for one another. 

Angel sat at the foot of the bed, setting a hand on the patient’s leg as Sam examined them. They were asleep, near-naked, dressed in only their undergarments, sweating all over. A roll of dirtied bandages was wrapped tightly around their torso. Silver jewelry sparkled from every part of their body that could hold a piercing. Their skin seemed to be tinged green in the candle light and their entire body shook with tremors every so often. With the swathes of skin Sam could see, the patient was covered in old scars. Burns, cuts, even a few divots of missing skin that Sam was sure came from bullets. He opened his satchel and started pulling out vials, reading the labels until he found what he was looking for. 

Despite the scars and their sickly appearance, they were easily the most attractive person Sam had ever seen in his life. And he felt guilty for thinking it. 

“What happened?” He breathed, starting to unwind the bandages covering the person’s torso. 

“They were stabbed a week or two ago in a raid.” The first person, Babe, explained, a worried look on their face. “They’ve been stabbed a lot, always in the same spot. They know how to take it so it doesn’t do too much damage.” 

Sam winced at the sight of the festering wound, gently prodding at the area around to make sure it was the only one. It was angled just above their left hip, a splattering of raised scars were scattered around it, at least five or six individual stabs, but with how some of them blended together, it could have been more. Sweetheart stepped in to continue explaining. 

“We dressed it like normal, and they weren’t complaining, so we all just forgot about it. Dumbass didn’t tell anyone it was infected until they collapsed on deck two days ago. I’ve been wrapping it up, but we only have the one set of bandages, so I haven’t been able to wash it.” 

Sam looked horrified, his eyes wide at the primitive way they’d been treating their crewmate. He knew they didn’t know any better, but he was appalled. 

“Okay,” He breathed. “I’ll need hot water, alcohol, and as many clean cloths as you can give me. I’ll also need a needle and thread, but it’ll be a while before I need that.”

Everyone aside from Angel stared at him, incredulous looks on their faces. Angel scoffed and clapped their hands sharply. 

“Well, go do what he said! Do you want ‘em to die?” The group scrambled, falling over themselves to run out of the room. 

Sam uncorked the vial of laudanum he’d packed and carefully poured a bit between his patient’s open lips. He smiled lightly as they instinctively swallowed the liquid, making a face at the foul taste. Their body shuddered again and they groaned, their eyes squeezing tight. His heart skipped a beat as he watched and he blushed.

Angel sighed, biting their bottom lip. They had a guilty look on their face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you sick, too?” Sam asked, his voice low. 

“I’m really sorry, Sam. This wasn’t supposed to be a kidnapping. We just…we really needed help. They mean a lot to us.” They rubbed the patient’s leg lovingly. “They’re family.” 

Sam gave them a sort-of sad smile. 

“It’s alright, Angel. I’ve only been here for a little bit, but there’s,” He searched for the right words to say. “There’s a lot of love here. I understand.” 

Angel smiled at Sam and sniffled, rubbing at their nose. They blinked away the tears that threatened to fall and chuckled weakly. 

“So, what’s their name?” 

“We all call ‘em Cannon. They’re Davey’s younger sibling. He found ‘em on some island ‘bout 20 years ago. They were basically feral, and Davey wasn’t much older himself but he took them in, raised them.” Angel smiled as they talked and Sam looked at Cannon, trying to imagine them younger, and then wondering how anyone could abandon a kid on a deserted island.

“They’re tough as nails, mean as a dog. They went…away for a while, a few years ago. Davey blamed himself for it. I think he’ll blame himself if they don’t come out the other side of this.” Angel pressed a hand to their mouth, their eyes suddenly wide. “Oh my god, you can’t tell him I’ve been calling him Davey around you!” 

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. 

—

It was a few hours before Sam had Cannon’s wound cleaned and stitched shut. He’d even gone as far as to give them a sponge bath, cleaning away stagnant sweat and general pirate ship grime. Sam ignored the dinner bells when they rang, assuming he wasn’t welcome to dine with the crew. He stayed by Cannon’s bedside, resting on the stool and propping his chin up on his hands. 

He listened to the sound of the crew laughing and eating down the hall. Someone was playing music, though he couldn’t make out the lyrics. And Sam smiled. Again, he found himself completely thrown for a loop. The half-day he’d spent on the Halo had completely changed his view of pirates and piracy as a whole. If every pirate ship were like this one, where did all the stories he grew up with come from? 

Slowly, the eventful day caught up with him, and he found himself nodding off. The gentle sway of the ship and the sound of waves lulled him into a deep sleep, leaning his head against the cabin wall. 

—

When Sam woke, it was still dark outside. The candles in the cabin had been blown out and the full moon washed the room in a milky glow. The ship was quiet, everyone presumably asleep. The ship was quiet and Sam felt cold steel pressing to his throat. He was suddenly very awake, his eyes wide and his heart pounding as adrenaline flooded his body in excess for the second time in an 18 hour period. 

Cannon stood before him, obviously struggling to hold both themselves and the sword up. Their non-dominant hand gripped at their stitched wound and they balanced all their body weight on their right side. When they saw Sam was awake, they pushed the tip of their sword harder to his adam’s apple and he swallowed nervously. 

Cannon tilted their head, the moonlight catching on their jaw and making the fresh sweat on their skin sparkle. Their silver jewelry flashed white in the glow. If Sam wasn’t so scared, he might have actually blushed at the sight. Their voice ground out, weak but confident.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chapter Text

It had been nearly two weeks since the Inversion. Since the tragedy, Tank had unofficially moved in with Sam, refusing to leave his side for any longer than to go back to their apartment for necessities like fresh clothes and their toothbrush, and even then they’d stayed on a call with their mate the entire time they were gone. 

This particular evening, after waking up early to one of Sam’s new and terrifying nightmares, the couple had unilaterally decided that they would spend some time outside on the porch, catching the sunset as it cut through the pine trees in the backyard. Sam put on a pot of coffee while Tank clung to him like glue, still dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. 

He’d enjoyed having the new and welcome body in his home all the time now. Sam enjoyed seeing his mate’s clothes strewn around the house, their things left in odd places. He quite liked both pestering them to clean up after themselves and doing it himself. He found that he wanted to do it all the time, for the rest of his life. He’d thought about asking them to move in before, but now he was certain it was what he wanted. Everytime he tried to bring it up, however, the words got caught in his throat, nerves gripping him. 

The sunset was beautiful. Sam didn’t catch many of them these days, the risk of getting burned too great, but they were becoming more and more common. He found himself staring, not at the sky, but his partner curled into his side. The way the sun caught on their skin, the way the orange clouds reflected in their eyes, the way their hand bunched up his shirt to hold him closer. Though they hadn’t been present at the Inversion, he knew that his involvement in it was what scared them. After being reunited when the wards fell, Tank had snarled and bared their teeth at anyone that got too close to him, or, god forbid, tried to touch him. 

Grace of this possessiveness wasn’t even extended to the healers that were trying to help. He had fuzzy, sleepy memories of the poor young man taking care of him, and how terrified he was of Tank. They refused to let go of his hand, though their own was sweaty and Sam’s was covered in grime and blood. The healer worked around their entwined hands as best as he could, clearly too frightened to ask for them to let go of each other. Sam read the man’s expression and started untangling their fingers. Tank only gripped tighter, fear overtaking the hard, protective look in their eyes. 

“S’alright, Darlin, he’s only tryin’ t’help.” Sam tried to explain, his words slurring together as he pried his hand away from his mate’s, much as it pained him as well. Tank had actually whined . High-pitched and keening at the back of their throat. Sam’s eyes widened at the sound and felt a pang of guilt. 

“Just ‘til he’s done. Promise.” He swore. He’d never heard such a sound out of his mate and it might have hurt more than the injuries he was sporting. The rest of his healing passed by in a blur of voices and warm magic, then the two of them had piled into a car William had sent to take them home. They hadn’t been separated since. 

“Sam…Sam?” Tank’s voice pierced through the muddled memories and Sam reached up to rub his eyes. “Are you alright? You’re staring.” Sam gave a small smile and squeezed their arm. 

“Just thinkin’, Darlin.” He said simply, reading his mate’s worried expression. “Nothin’ bad, promise.” Tank’s eyes darted to his own, almost like they didn’t quite believe him, but they nodded. 

“Sun’s okay? I know it’s almost down now, but it’s not hurting is it?” They asked, settling a hand on his bare chest. 

“It’s perfect, I swear.” Sam cupped the back of their neck and gave them a soft kiss. They gave a shy smile, blushing, and laid their head on his shoulder. 

“I’ve been thinking too.” Tank said quietly, chewing on their bottom lip anxiously. Sam sat up a bit, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Well, that’s dangerous.” He said. Tank nudged his shoulder and stuck their tongue out petulantly. They sighed before they spoke again. 

“I know…that night, you saw me shifted, but I want to show you for real. I’ve wanted to for a really long time, but I always…I don’t know, got antsy about it or something.” Tank explained, picking at a hangnail in an attempt to look casual about the whole thing. He could hear their heart rate picking up. 

Sam thought back to their reuniting, but could only come up with a poor recollection of what their wolf had actually looked like. Seeing his beloved partner shift from a wolf back to a human before they collapsed into each other’s arms sobbing had easily been the least exciting (though most relieving) thing that had happened that night. He nodded along to what Tank was saying, trying to look easy-going and supportive. That was an early lesson he’d learned in their relationship, if he didn’t make things a big deal, they wouldn’t either. 

“You can show me whenever you like, Darlin. I don’t have a great idea of what all you looked like. All I cared was that you were there and that we were both alive.” Sam said softly, brushing the pad of his thumb along their cheek. The relief that had flooded his body at the sight of Tank in front of him that night surpassed any curiosity surrounding their wolf-form. Tank just stared at him, their eyes catching the last bits of the sun. 

A peaceful, wonder-filled look took over their face and they nodded, pulling away from their mate’s side. Reaching behind their head, they started pulling off Sam’s shirt that they’d been wearing, standing to let his boxers follow. Growing up in a pack of shifters that valued shifting magic more than the magic it took to phase clothes into their shift, Tank had always been unashamed of their naked body. They’d torn through plenty of their own clothes before shifting, but they wouldn’t do the same with Sam’s, especially since they regularly took them without asking. Sam busied himself folding the clothes, setting them in the spot where Tank had been sitting. 

They stood, shifting their weight from foot to food in front of Sam. They looked nervous, rubbing at the goosebumps that raised on their skin. 

“Just please don't freak out, okay? I know you’ve seen wolves and shit before, but it’s a little different than that.” Tank’s voice was small. “And it’s pretty fast, but it’s not exactly the most visually pleasant thing to see.” Sam nodded carefully.

“You just take your time, Darlin.” He pat their side softly, watching as they gave him a nervous smile and backpedaled from him to give themselves room.  

They hadn’t been lying when they said the shift was fast, but Sam watched anyway. Their body twisted, bones groaning at the pressure of the change. When they leaned forward to catch themselves on their hands, they instead landed on paws, and there was a massive wolf in front of him. An oddly familiar wolf. He’d seen them before, and not just after the Inversion. A memory now stood in front of him in stunning clarity.

—

In the couple of months since his turning, Sam couldn’t imagine a worse pain than the bloodlust. No fight he’d gotten into in high school, no broken bone, not even the car door plunged deep into his torso even compared. It was utter torture. He’d never experienced a hunger that actually hurt before. His stomach would burn like hot coals and he would wake up in cold sweats, his body shaking too fast to even comprehend. When he would look down at his hands, they looked unreal, like the shimmering heat above a fire or mirages on asphalt. 

What was worse than the painful hunger was the fear and losing control of himself. His stomach would lurch and he’d lose himself in a red haze of need . The fangs, new and terrifying, would drop from his gums until his mouth was full of glinting white knives and he would cry . He’d cry and scream and thrash until someone was at his side with a blood bag or a thermos. He lived quietly between feedings, which felt near constant, ashamed of how debased he was with his cravings. 

Sam had refused to see Alexis at all, not that the men helping him would push the issue at all. He was admittedly scared of William, even with the king’s gentle disposition. He could sense the man’s age and wisdom. He carried himself with poise and grace and Sam refused to meet his eyes, knowing that he knew everything of his complicated relationship with the king’s first progeny. His main helper, however, he got along fairly well with. Vincent was upbeat, and often told Sam stories of his own bloodlust to make him feel better. He even divulged more sensitive stories to make Sam feel more at ease. He was told about Vincent’s turning, and then his attempts to reject his vampiric nature. While Sam could certainly understand wanting to deny those parts of himself, he couldn’t imagine ever having the willpower to ignore the hunger. 

One night, Sam’s cries came out breathless and silent and he clutched his chest as the fangs fell and sliced the tip of his tongue. Slicing and healing, slicing and healing. It had been the story of Sam’s life since his turning and he was almost certain that he’d never get used to the weapons in his mouth. It had been several weeks since he’d woken up in the middle of the night, unable to breathe as his new teeth filled his mouth. Vincent was out and William was dealing with business on the other side of town. His situation gripped him and Sam sat upright, grasping at his new, fine sheets so tightly they threatened to rip. 

The panic in his body eventually subsided, but the red haze didn’t lift and the unnatural shake of his hands didn’t pass. He thought as much as he could through his hunger, his heart pounding. He knew where the blood bags were kept in the refrigerator. If he could just drink, everything would be okay again, he thought. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and suddenly he was in the kitchen, his speed and instinct taking over. He exercised what little restraint he had, opening the fridge door. He knew he could rip it off of its hinges if he wasn’t thinking too hard about it. He’d broken too many things in the past months that he tried to always be aware of his strength.

His sensitive eyes stung from the dull light flowing from the fridge and he winced. He scanned the shelves desperately, wringing his hands in his t-shirt. The fridge was near empty, save a few stray condiments and vegetables. Sam’s heart leapt into his throat and he was in tears again. There was no blood for him. There was no blood period . That must have been the business William was attending to. 

He lowered himself to the ground and pulled at the sweaty collar of his shirt, feeling choked up on fresh panic. His breaths quickened and the red haze in his vision was getting thicker. His logical thoughts, now few and far between, slipping away like silk. His frantic heartbeat thudded in his ears. Sam sucked on his fangs desperately, the slender cuts to his lips healing before they had a chance to bleed. He tangled his fingers in his hair, gripping and pulling, in attempts to bring himself away from his base instincts and back to reality. 

“Please…” Sam whimpered. He didn’t know to whom he was pleading or even what he was asking anymore. Maybe control? He’d already had to be restrained to his bed twice, crying and choking on his own words and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. Or maybe he was just wishing for someone to show up and bring him blood. He would do anything for blood. Sam peeled his eyes open and his vision swam with tears and the red curtains. A snarl tore from his chest before he could stop it and the tears stopped coming. And then suddenly he was racing outside into the forest, barefoot, in his pajamas, and no idea where he was going. 

The moon hung low and full in the sky, washing the entire forest in an opalescent light. Sam felt as though his feet were barely touching the ground with how fast he was moving. He’d never been out and hungry before. He felt like he was sitting in the backseat, watching someone else move and control his body, like it wasn’t his own. His body stopped in a clearing and Sam’s breaths stuttered in his chest. Dirt and bits of dead leaves clung to his bare feet and goosebumps raised on his arms even though he couldn’t really feel the cold as well anymore. It had been raining all week, making all the scents muddle together and Sam found himself identifying and judging prey by the scents he could pull apart from the group, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he possibly knew how to do that. 

Squirrel - too hard to catch, too small, not enough blood

Coyote - bigger, more blood, but will bite back

Owl - out of the question

Deer - large enough to sate, not too hard to take down

The deer’s scent hooked itself in Sam’s mind and he took off again, with at least some semblance of an idea of a direction and purpose. Vincent’s words echoed in his head as he ran. Animal blood is fine in a pinch, doesn’t taste good but it does the trick. Gotta be careful hunting North, though. Gabe Shaw’s pack will rip you apart if you’re on their land. Unless Shaw is there himself, most of them attack first, ask questions later . The thought of a pack of massive and powerful wolf shifters tearing him limb from limb sent a jolt of fear through his body, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop running. 

Sam’s body slowed to a stop at the bank of a river where a young buck lapped quietly at the cold water. The buck lifted its head and twitched, hearing Sam’s feet brushing against the dead leaves on the ground. He moved unnaturally fast, slipping behind the trunk of a large tree and the buck resumed drinking from the river. He waited patiently for the deer to let down its guard, to relax again. His heart thrummed faster than he’d ever felt it in his chest.

Then, in half a second, he was knelt on the forest floor with the buck’s head in his lap. Hot, thick blood flooded his mouth and ran down his chin, staining everything in its path. He downed mouthfuls greedily, hardly taking the time to breath between swallows. 

He only stopped once the tears falling from his eyes came to mingle with the blood smeared across his jaw. And when he heard the twigs snapping in front of him.

—

This is a bad idea, guys.

If you thought it was a bad idea, why did you come with us, David?

Asher, as future alpha, it’s my responsibility to keep you guys safe if I can’t stop you from doing something stupid in the first place.

It was Milo and I’s fault that we lost the deer earlier today, we’re just trying to make up for it!

Oh please, you tripped me, Ash. This is all on you. I’m only here because you knuckleheads couldn’t track a deer if it was bleeding all over the place.

Why are you here, Tank? 

I dunno, I heard David sneaking out and I was bored.

Great, so we’re both getting in trouble with Dad when he finds out we snuck out.

It’s if he finds out, David!

It won’t be if, Ash, it’s when.

The four juvenile wolves walked as quietly as they could through the forest, Milo at the front of the group with his nose to the ground. The other three walked side by side, bumping shoulders and nuzzling one another. Milo lifted his head suddenly and took off at a jog. 

It should be up by the river!

Oh god, Milo, I’m not gonna get soaking wet! It’s like 40 degrees out, we’ll freeze!

You’re the one who wanted to make up for your fumble this morning, Ash.

The three of them took off behind Milo, coming up along the bank of the river and following it against the current. The water slowly started to turn red, reflecting an odd brownish color in the moonlight. All four wolves slowed their pace, making sort of worried noises with their ears pinned back nervously. 

Maybe it got cut or something? 

There’s no way this much blood is coming from a cut, dude. 

I’m just trying to be optimistic!

David took the lead then, his eyes scanning the treeline for anything dangerous. 

If there’s a bear, you all better run and I’ll bring up the rear. 

Oh what, you don’t want us to fight a black bear, David?

David turned and snapped his teeth, causing Tank to take a step or two back. Asher immediately took a position between the two of them, almost submitting in Tank’s place. Milo continued walking. 

I’m being serious. None of us know healing magic and not even Dad could take on a bear. I’m not gonna be the reason this pack loses half of the next generation of wolves. 

It’s not a bear, David. 

What is it then, Milo?

That. 

Tank, Asher, and David followed Milo’s eyes to the other side of the riverbank, to the source of the blood discoloring the water. 

A young man was sitting on the forest floor, shaking with cries, holding the deer’s carcass in his lap. Blood stained the front of his shirt and coated his chin and throat. He was barefoot and his teeth were unnaturally sharp.

Ash, you’re with me. Tanker, you flank, be ready to jump in. Milo, you run home and get my Dad, now.

Milo faltered, taking a step back. A stick broke beneath one of his paws and the man’s head rose. His eyes glowed silver in the moonlight and his shoulders stopped shaking as he met the wolves’ eyes. 

Now, Milo, go!

David and Ash moved in unison, launching across the river to the opposite bank, Tank following just behind. Before the vampire could pull himself to his feet, he had two wolves tackling him to the ground and the third barking and bellowing in his ears. 

—

When the four wolves realized Sam was there and more over when they realized Sam knew that they knew, he figured he was done for. All of them stared at him and he got the feeling they were having a conversation he wasn’t privy to. The smallest of them turned tail and bolted while the other three jumped over the river and on top of him. 

The two bigger ones, black and tan respectively, held him to the ground, growling and baring their teeth, while the third’s loud barking echoed in his ears, causing him to bare his own teeth. All of his heightened senses were screaming at the assault. There was no way these were regular wolves. They were bigger than any he’d ever seen before and their scents were unfamiliar to him. 

Sam couldn’t help but yell and thrash and snarl under them. He was plenty sated with blood, but his instincts didn’t let up at all. He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it. These wolves were most likely part of Shaw’s pack that he’d been warned of. He didn’t want to hurt them and he definitely didn’t want to be on their bad side. And yet, he still snapped at any body part that got close enough. 

The third of the wolves finally stopped its barking and paused behind his head, hanging their open, drooling, maw over his throat. The teeth at Sam’s throat had him freezing. He always found himself acting skittish if anyone got too close to his neck, since his turning. He hated seeing the violent scarring Alexis had left behind, and the hairs on the back of his neck always rose in anticipation of pain whenever Vincent or William pat his shoulders. 

It wasn’t long before the small one returned with a wolf that towered over all four of them. All the new blood in Sam’s body pooled in the pit of his stomach uncomfortably. 

The wolves that attacked him must’ve been kids . 

He’d been fighting kids for the last 10 minutes. 

He was so dead . 

The adult wolf joined them on their side of the river bank and he must’ve seen the fearful look on Sam’s face, because he nodded the three juveniles off of him and Sam stayed put anyway. He shifted into a middle aged man with greying sandy brown hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. Sam gulped at the serious look on the man’s face. But all he did was help Sam to his feet and lead him to a fallen log to sit down on. 

With the way his heart pounded and his blood rushed in his ears, he couldn’t really tell what the man was saying, but caught the words ‘called William’ and the phrase ‘it’s okay’ repeated several times over as his chest heaved with deep breaths. 

—

Tank watched as Gabe led the vampire away and sat with him while they waited for the man’s king to arrive to collect him. All four teens stayed in their wolf forms, still too young to have mastered phasing their clothes into their shift. They would have to wait until they got home to shift back. David laid on the ground, nursing a few scratches to his front paws while Asher and Milo paced back and forth, filled with post-adrenaline energy. Tank just stared at their alpha and the man he was talking to curiously.

Had they been the one in charge, they would have (and could have) ripped that vampire's throat out. He was trespassing on private land, had killed game on said land, and attacked (or tried to attack) three wolves that had only turned the summer beforehand. Tank huffed and came to sit beside David. 

You doin’ okay, big guy?

I’ll be fine. Dad said Marie will come by and heal us in the morning. He nosed at one of the worse scratches along Tank’s snout. 

Think that vamp’s gonna be in trouble with his king?

How should I know? I’m not a vampire, Tanker. David was quiet for a moment. I think he’s new. Dad says most of them know better than to come out here. 

Huh. Poor guy. Ah well, not really our problem anymore. 

Asher came and snuggled between the two of them, a happy noise grumbling in his chest. 

So…that guy was kinda hot, right?

The other three barked at him. 

—

Sam idly pet his Darlin’s fur, the memory of the night he met both his mate and Gabe Shaw coming in flashes. They whined and set their head in his lap, which was a bit of a struggle with how tall they were. He looked down at them, at their worried puppy dog eyes. A raised pink scar trailed along the length of their snout and he thumbed it. 

“I’m alright, Darlin.” Sam murmured, reaching back and rubbing behind their ears. “Just rememberin’ somethin’.” They grumbled happily and their eyes fell shut. They pushed more of their head into his hands encouragingly and he laughed softly. 

He came to a decision then. He would ask them to move in for good. Tell them how much they meant to him. How much their trust meant to him. He never wanted to part ways again. He leaned down and pressed a kiss between their eyes. 

“Thank you, Darlin. Best gift I could’ve asked for.” 

Their tail thumped against the wooden slats of the deck. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t like it.” 

“You can’t say that about every couch we sit on, Darlin.” Sam sighed, turning his head to face his mate. The pout was a bit much. “You know we gotta do this. The old one’s fallin’ apart and there’s not enough seats for all our friends anymore.” 

He cupped their cheek and thumbed their jutted-out lip. 

“There’s worse problems to have.” He cooed, giving them a sympathetic look. Despite their grumpy attitude, they leaned into his touch with a sigh that tapered off into an airy whine. 

“I like the old one.” Tank insisted. It was all they had said all night, alternating between ‘I like the old one’ and ‘I don’t like it’ and ‘Can’t we just go home?’ . They turned their face to press a kiss to Sam’s palm. Looking back five years, a year, hell, even just six months ago, they couldn’t have ever imagined being this soft and pliant for anyone . Now, they couldn’t imagine having ever been rough with Sam in the first place. 

“I know you like the old one, I do too. But it's gotta be done, unfortunately.” 

Their eyes trailed the employee that was pseudo-stalking them around the store and they pulled away. They knew why that poor young man was sticking to them like glue. It was late. The store would be closing soon. Furniture shopping was hard to do with a vampire and Sam refused to do it online. 

Sam stood and offered his hand, pulling Tank up with him, keeping his hand in theirs. They moved onto the next model. Seat warmers, cup holders, massaging cushions. Sam made an interested face and Tank groaned internally. He sat down and lifted the card describing every single intricacy the couch had. He smiled broadly and pointed. 

“The cup holders are heated, too!” Sam said excitedly, looking back down at the card. “Keep my coffee warm…” He murmured to himself, pouring over the information. Tank just crossed their arms and sat next to him on the futuristic monstrosity, laying their head on his shoulder. Sam noticed their melancholic attitude and sighed again. He hated making them upset, but they’d both agreed that they needed some new furniture. But saying and doing were two entirely different things to Tank. He nudged them up so he could look them in the eye. 

“I’ll tell you what, Darlin. Let’s find a couch that you tolerate, we’ll test it out for a week or so and if you still don’t like it, we’ll try somethin’ different.” Tank opened their mouth to argue. “We won’t get rid of the old one! I’ll put it in my office, not that you need any more encouragement to distract me while I’m workin’.” Sam grumbled playfully, pressing a soft kiss to their lips. 

Tank gave a sort-of forced smile and whispered an ‘okay’. 

“This one’s fine, I guess. You seem to really like it. I like when you like things.” Tank blushed at their own words and moved on quickly. “Big enough for the guys and their mates, too. Milo’ll like the seat warmers.” 

Sam stood and stared down at the couch like a proud father, his hands on his hips. The employee slowly approached from behind, obviously not wanting to intrude on the couple, but wanting to either make this final sale or get the two of them out of the store. Sam didn’t need to turn around to know the man was there, just lifted his voice a bit louder than the soft, gentle tone he reserved for his partner. 

“I think we’ll take this one, sir!” He said in a happy tone, turning to face him. Tank laughed quietly at the surprise on the man’s face. “Can we schedule a pick up? I can send a truck down.” 

Sam and the man launched into a long-winded conversation about the nature of pick-up versus delivery and the perks of each. Tank listened along, holding Sam’s hand and looking at their new couch with a frown on their face. 

—

The delivery truck arrived a day later and Sam insisted on helping Will’s moving crew get the couch into the house. They’d already moved the old couch into Sam’s office and it had become their new hub. Once the crew had left, Tank helped their mate arrange the couch how they liked it best. 

It somehow dwarfed their already big living room, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. Upon Tank’s insistence, they’d kept the old throw pillows and blankets for some shred of familiarity. They resisted the urge to ask Sam to sit on every single inch of the couch until it smelled exactly like the old one. 

Despite their agreeance to try the new couch, Tank avoided it like the plague unless Sam was already on it. But, even with their stubborn nature, they had to admit that the couch was nice. Ish. It wasn’t the old one, but the massage feature was good for their bad, ahem, everything, and Sam loved the seat warmers. He couldn’t quite figure out how to get the heated cup holders to work, but it was nice to know they were there. 

—

Tank nuzzled their nose along the side of Sam’s neck, a sleepy sigh falling from their lips as Sam tilted his chin to the side, smiling sweetly and pulling away from his keyboard. 

“What is it, Darlin?” He asked, pulling his reading glasses off the tip of his nose. 

“Can you start the fireplace for me? Wanna take a nap.” 

“You know how to do it. I know you do, taught you myself.” Sam chuckled. Tank swung around to Sam’s front and settled on his lap, snuffling at his luke-warm skin. Their voice was quiet. 

“And you know I let you teach me. Gabe taught long before you were ever in the picture. I just like asking you to do things, makes you feel useful.” They chirped. Sam scoffed and pressed a kiss to their lips, laughing against their mouth. 

“Well, I am deeply offended, Darlin.” He pat their hip and they both stood and made their way back out to the living room. Tank dropped to the soft rug in front of the fireplace, fully shifted before they hit the floor. They rolled onto their back with a happy groan. 

“I’m guessin’ you just want a small one, seein’ as you don’t plan on keepin’ an eye on it at all.” Sam leaned down to scratch at their chest, and ended up clipping one of his socked feet on the corner of the new couch. He groaned, a stiff curse coming from behind clenched teeth and he fell to one of the cushions, dramatically holding his foot. Tank stood, a chuffing mock-laugh rumbling in their chest as they came to his side to comfort him.

“Damn couch…” Sam grumbled, massaging his aching toes. 

—

The new couch was a hit with the pack. As predicted, Milo was a big fan of the heated seats and Asher and David’s mate had too much fun playing with the massaging seat settings. Angel’s puppy dog eyes for the alpha, begging for a similar model, were impressive. What was more impressive, was David’s softening features and his supposed consideration to do such a thing for his mate. The familiar smells seeping into the cushions did ease Tank’s dislike for the thing a bit, but they spent nearly all of their free time in Sam’s office, curled up on the old one, wrapped in a throw blanket. 

One late evening, after a long job, Tank woke to the sound of their mate hissing and growling. The hair on the back of their neck and their arms stood and they were halfway down the stairs without even the decency to put pants on first. They were half-shifted on instinct, their teeth entirely too big for their mouth and their nails making pin-prick cuts in their palms. The sight that greeted them had them both calm enough to shift back, and confused. 

Sam was still in his pajamas, the pair’s dedicated popcorn bowl at his feet with piles of the buttery stuff scattered around it. The front of his already stained sleep shirt was soaked with some kind of liquid. He was gripping his foot again, propped up on the edge of one of the couch’s cushions. Once they had their speeding heart under control again, Tank had to fight back a laugh, trying to put on a sympathetic face for their mate. 

“Sammy, what happened?” Sam lifted his head and scowled. 

“Tripped on the damn couch again.” He explained, his voice gruff with a barely-contained anger. “Dropped the popcorn bowl and spilled my coffee. Lucky I didn’t break the stupid mug it was in.” He peeled his wet shirt off and went about healing the minor burns on his chest. 

Tank wordlessly retrieved the broom from the pantry and started sweeping up the popcorn, picking up the bowl and setting it on the coffee table that had been pushed to the side to make room for the couch. 

“I’ll make some more coffee and popcorn for you.” They offered, dumping the wasted batch in the garbage and collecting Sam’s wet shirt from the floor. They had been planning on doing laundry soon anyway. Or watching Sam do it. 

By the time they came back with a fresh batch of both coffee and popcorn, Sam was still scowling, though he’d been redressed and fully healed. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

“What’s up, grumpy?” 

“I don’t like it…” Sam mumbled, scuffing his foot on the carpet. 

“What was that?” 

“Said I don’t like it, Darlin.” He huffed. “The couch, I mean. It’s too big! And I can’t figure out those stupid cup holders, can’t figure out the massage chair either. The arm rests are too high, they’re fucking with my shoulder. The cushions aren’t the right texture. And you hate it! I hate that you hate it…” He rubbed his hands over his face, groaning. 

“Are you finished?” 

“Yes, I’m finished.” 

Tank snuggled into Sam’s side. The new couch was too much. At least for them.

“I do think it’s a little too fancy for us. We’re both easy to please and we like familiarity.” They explained. Sam groaned again, dropping his weight into their side with a defeated sigh. 

“I think you were right. I miss the old one.” Tank couldn’t help but chuckle at that, rubbing the back of Sam's head comfortingly. He was quiet for a few beats. “Suppose we could get some folding chairs. For when folks come over.” 

Tank smiled.

—

And so the old, too-soft, stained, worn couch made its way back to the living room, freeing up room for the coffee table to be in its rightful spot. No more stubbed toes and spilt snacks.

Milo and Sweetheart were more than willing to take the oversized couch-of-the-future off their hands, provided William’s moving crew could get it through their front door. And the video they got of Aggro purring up a storm on a heated, massaging seat was more than enough payment in Sam and Tank’s eyes.

Chapter Text

“You’re kidding, right?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Sam said breathlessly. 

“Really funny, Mr. Collins. Though, maybe prank calling isn’t the best use of your time. I would hate for King William to know one of his clan members is wasting valuable Department time with such childish activities. Goodbye, Mr. Collins.” The Department employee hung up before Sam could get a word in edgewise. His jaw hung open as his own reflection flashed at him from his phone screen. He stared for a few seconds, racking his brain for what that, ahem, rude woman could have possibly meant by any of that. 

The call had started off fairly normally, leading with his name and affiliation with his King, then had gone to explaining his relationship with Tank and giving their name to confirm if they were on the Informed Unempowered Listings or not. He’d heard the click-clack of computer keys, then a scoff, the rant about prank calling, and the call had ended very unceremoniously. Sam frowned. She could have meant anything from, 

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve known this person, how long? And you haven’t bothered telling them you’re a blood-sucking, immortal monster, yet? Wow.” 

To

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve known this person, how long? And you’re considering telling them about magic? Already? Really jumping the gun here, Collins.”  

To

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve known this person, how long? And you didn’t know that they know about magic? Some boyfriend you are.” 

Boyfriend was maybe a strong word to use. He sighed and fell back on the couch, draping an arm over his eyes. Sam hadn’t exactly had the ‘what are we’ discussion with Tank yet. He was, in fact, avoiding it like the plague. He’d never had to have that particular discussion before. And after their last date had been interrupted by that shifter guy, Asher, he’d been feeling a little insecure about the whole thing. 

Sure, they’d been getting gradually closer. Tank was always at the top of his contacts, given how often they texted and called back and forth. He still got butterflies in his stomach when he heard them talk, or when he’d say something a little forward and their breath would hitch. He blushed when their warm hands were on his skin. And he still couldn’t quite work up the courage to kiss them, but there had been several close calls. But there was still so much he didn’t know. Like anything to do with their friends or family, if they had any outside of Asher. Like any previous relationships, again, if they had had any. Like if they even wanted a serious relationship. Like if they knew magic existed . He groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Is everything okay, Sam?” 

He startled, sitting up and opening his eyes. Fred stood in the hallway, his taller counterpart directly behind him. Their irises flashed like cats', four glowing silver eyes blinking owlishly at him. Bright’s hand was gripping Fred’s shirt. Sam stood and made his way to the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with fresh water. Both boys padded out to the kitchen behind him and settled down into the bar stools at the island. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour, so all the curtains in the house were still drawn shut, the hanging light above the sink was the only thing illuminating the house.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Did I wake you boys?” Sam prompted gently, pulling three mugs down from the cupboard. 

“No.” Freddy said, just as Bright answered with a quieter, “Yes.” Sam just chuckled at the pair of them, watching Fred give his progeny a hard stare. He was a people pleaser and an optimist, refused to make any negative thought he had known. Bright, on the other hand, despite his quiet nature, was very opinionated and quick to anger. When he was first turned, he refused to speak to Sam or Fred until the latter was sobbing in the doorway of the guest room, tears and snot glistening on his tan skin. Back then, Fred had been sleeping on the couch, but they shared the guest room now, neither content to leave the other’s side. 

“Is everything actually okay, or are you just doing that dad thing where you pretend everything’s fine, but you’re actually falling apart at the seams?” Fred asked, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sam huffed and crossed his arms. 

“I’m not your dad, now quit it.” He didn’t dignify the snickers he heard with a response, just turned and continued making coffee. “I’m guessin’ you’ll both want coffee, but you need blood first. Haven’t had any in almost two days. Grab some from the fridge, no ifs ands or buts.” 

“Yes, Dad.” Was the unanimous response. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned himself against the counter, pulling his phone out of his pocket. As if summoned, a text popped up on the screen from Tank. His face went warm and he smiled. He read the words over and over again, his heart thumping in his chest as his progenies went about the preparing, or lack thereof, their blood bags. Bright always poured his in a glass, while Fred just bit the bag, claiming it made the itch in his fangs go away faster. They both sat back down at the island. 

wanna hang out 2nite? last date got interrupted. sorry 4 ash

“Is this about Tank?” Bright had a knack for hitting the nail right on the head. He hated beating around the bush. His heart skipped a beat and Sam’s lip curled at Bright Eye’s direct nature. He stuffed his phone back into his jeans. 

“That’s none of your business, now shut up and drink your blood.” The two new bloods shared a knowing look and smiled to themselves.

—

That night at the club that had brought Sam and Tank together in the first place had ended with Bright and Freddy downing two blood bags each and pestering Sam with invasive questions. They were both nearly two decades younger than Sam and still full of a healthy amount of child-like curiosity. 

“Who wath that?”

“Dunno, just met ‘em. You’re drippin, Freddy.” 

“Were you gonna kith them? Did you even ask them out firtht?” 

“Can’t understand you ‘round your fangs, kid.” Bright hissed at him, his fangs clanging uncomfortably on the lip of his glass. 

Sam cringed at the sound and turned back to Fred, who’s eyes had drowned in his pupils as soon as he’d bitten into the bag he was given. Half of it had spilled down the front of his shirt, staining it irreparably, and he let out keening, desperate little cries as he tried to find the holes he’d punctured in the bag to get the rest of it in his mouth. He was torn between just ripping the plastic open and lapping up what little blood had spilled down his forearms and was now dripping off his elbows. Sam sighed, pulling the ruined bag away and replacing it with a new one, speaking gently to his progeny before he could get truly worked up. 

“It’s okay, try again. Slowly this time.” 

By time the two of them had finished their meal, about a million other questions about Sam and his mystery human were traded back and forth, met mostly with stone-walled answers and half-hearted shrugs. Fred fell asleep quickly after eating, his head hanging back and his mouth wide open. His fangs were still dropped and he snored quietly. Bright Eyes watched Sam clean up their mess carefully, his head cocked to the side and his white-ish blonde hair falling in his eyes. 

“If you wanna like…date that person, you can. Me and Freddy can take care of each other. We’ve done it before. I’ll take care of him.” Bright frowned as he spoke, as if the prospect of Sam dating someone somehow meant that he would abandon them. He pulled his long legs to his chest and pet Freddy’s hair softly, the other turning into his touch with a sleepy noise. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and dropped to sit next to the boy. He palmed the back of his head and fixed him with a gentle but firm stare. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Bright.” Sam explained. “A maker’s place is with his progeny. You may not technically be mine, but you might as well be. You two mean an awful lot to each other, I know that. And I trust you to take care of each other when I can’t. But that doesn’t mean you have to. If I do end up goin’ on a couple dates, and that’s a big if, that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you two high and dry. You mean an awful lot to each other, but you two also mean an awful lot to me. I’m not goin’ nowhere.” 

Bright stared, unblinking, at Sam, his mouth set in a firm line as his chin trembled a bit. Sam leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the boy’s hairline and stood quickly, clearing his throat. 

“Do you need help getting him to bed, or can you handle it? Gotta figure out how to get the blood out of the rug. Might just have to get a new one…” Sam mused, pacing off to the bathroom for cleaning supplies. And Bright watched, pretending tears weren’t burning at the corners of his eyes.

There’d been many such reassurances as Sam and Tank’s relationship continued evolving.

—

Tank stared down at their phone as the three little dots indicating Sam’s typing kept popping up and then disappearing again. They frowned and dropped the phone, hating the way their heart pounded with uncertainty. Was it too soon to ask for another date? Their eyes trained on the tiny fish bowl on their side table, watching the stupid goldfish swim smack into the plastic castle. They scoffed and picked up their phone again. Nothing yet. 

They weren’t exaggerating when they said that the last date had completely bombed. They had been convinced that they were finally going to work up the courage to kiss Sam. The few times that they’d almost done it had ended with flushed skin and fumbled words. Goosebumps would rise on their skin and Tank would hear their heart pounding in their ears. Sam would press his lips together as if to replace the feeling of itching want with pressure and he would be unable to meet their gaze for a while afterwards. 

Tank groaned, kicking their feet like a petulant child. They felt incredibly silly, getting so worked up about something so small. The worst Sam could do was say no. And they didn’t even think he would. He always said yes. He liked being with them, going on dates and the like. Or at least they thought he did. Their heart started racing again. They slammed a fist into their throw pillow with a growl directed at themselves. 

“So. Fucking. Stupid!” Tank’s fist dug further into the pillow and they resisted the urge to tear it to shreds with claws or teeth. Which had them thinking again of everything they needed to tell Sam. They wouldn’t bother with the Department. They were sure their name had been blacklisted from every Department database with how much trouble they got into as a kid, and then again as a young adult. 

Ba-Ding!

Tank scrambled to pick up their phone again. 

how’s your southern fried “friend”

 From Asher, followed by a series of lewd emojis and a GIF of a dog wearing a cowboy hat and riding a Roomba. Again, Tank resisted the urge to damage something. 

Ba-Ding!

Sure thing, Darlin. Movie night at yours? I’ll bring some snacks.

Tank scanned the message, face warm as a smile spread across their face. They were quick to answer, not caring if that made it seem like they were desperate for his response. They wanted to squeal like an overexcited preteen, but managed to sound as cool and unbothered as possible.

sounds good, i’ll break out the popcorn bowl. see u @ 8

Movies. Movies were good. Maybe they could find some cheesy werewolf flick to ease Sam into the idea of his partner occasionally turning into a giant wolf. 

Partner was maybe a strong word.

—

Sam’s eyes darted back and forth between the flashing screen and his… God they really needed to have that ‘what are we’ talk. And fast. His person. Between the flashing screen and his person’s face. He also needed to tell them what he was. Preferably after the ‘what are we’ talk, so he felt more secure about their feelings for him.

He tried to focus on the move. They’d picked out some blood-bath-esque, werewolf, monster hunter movie. His thoughts raced as the movie came to a close. He’d been brave enough to wrap his arms around their shoulders. And to sit under the same blanket. The blanket was new. He’d almost commented on it’s new-ness but it seemed a little weird to say that he could tell it was new because it didn’t smell like them yet. 

He watched their lip curl as the credits started to roll. They stood with the empty popcorn bowl and flicked on the lights, wandering into the kitchen. 

“Well, that was shit. You can pick the next one, remote should be there on the table.” They called. He heard them putting another bag of popcorn in the microwave and he started scrolling through his options until he found something that looked vaguely familiar. He clicked on it but pressed pause before it could start.

It wasn’t long until Tank joined him again, turning off the lights and curling into his side under the same blanket again. And Sam blushed. Again. Tank picked up the remote and pressed play, pulling his arm to hold their shoulders again. 

“What did you pick?” And Sam couldn’t find the words to answer, couldn’t even lift his eyes to look at the screen. He was too busy staring at his person, watching the dim lights of the television flash across their skin and reflect in their eyes. The beginning of the movie faded into a forest scene and the narrator began. 

“ I’d never given much thought to how I would die…”  

And Tank started laughing, turning to meet Sam’s eyes. 

“Twilight, Sam? Really?” They laughed again. 

“What?” He managed. 

“Oh, Sammy. Gotta say, you have me beat for quality when it comes to vampire/werewolf movies.” They kept laughing, their eyes squinting and their cheeks pink. 

And Sam was overcome again with the want to kiss them. Though this time, with the want, came the courage to do so. He leaned in and pressed his lips to theirs, cutting off the sound of their infectious laugh. He was blushing and his hands were shaking, but he raised his hand to the side of their face to cup it gently. He had an odd feeling that it’d been a long time since someone had treated them this gently. And he pulled away before he deepened the kiss. Their eyes were wide, still reflecting the opening scenes of the movie.

“I’m sorry, Darlin, I should’ve asked. You just looked so stunnin’ and I didn’t know when I’d have the courage again and-” 

Sam was cut off this time, by Tank’s lips crashing into his own. They swung one leg over his thighs to straddle him and cupped both hands on either side of his face. The popcorn bowl fell to the floor, but neither could bring themselves to care. Sam’s hands found their hips and he held them. Now that he had a taste he didn’t ever want to let go, didn’t ever want to stop kissing them. And it wasn’t a vampire thing either, though the taste of their blood just under the surface was intoxicating. 

He just liked their rough, chapped lips, the way they were still salty from the popcorn they’d shared. He liked the way their hands felt on his face, tangling in his hair. He liked the way he could feel their pulse thudding in their swollen lips as the kiss deepened. Their body was warm, much warmer than his, and he wanted them by his side forever. 

He stilled their hips before they could start rocking in earnest and pulled away, panting and blushing again. He watched their eyes, analytical as ever, searching his face for any sign of discomfort or regret. 

“What’s wrong, Sam? Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, Darlin, never!” Sam insisted, reaching up to run his thumb along their cheekbone comfortingly. “I just…I feel like I need to lay some things out for you.” 

They nodded along, crawling off his lap to sit next to him again. 

“I really really like you. A lot. And I know we haven’t really had this talk yet, but we’ve been seeing each other for a while and I haven’t been seeing anyone else. And I don’t wanna just fuck you and leave you hangin’,” He groaned, trying to find the right words. “What I’m trying to say is…I’d like to be your boyfriend, if you’d have me. Forever’s a long time, but I wouldn’t mind spending some of it with you. Hell, I wouldn’t mind spending all of it with you. If-if you’d have me, that is.” 

Sam wrung his hands in the hem of his shirt, suddenly feeling uncertain about all of this. About Tank’s feelings for him. Maybe they did just wanna hook up, though they’d never indicated that at all. They’d seemed just as shy and unsure about their feelings as he had. 

They were quiet for a moment more before they leaned forward and kissed him again, this one simple and sweet. 

“That sounds amazing, Sam. I’d love you to be my boyfriend.” They blushed as they said the words, but they sounded confident and sure of themselves. 

Relief flooded Sam’s body before a much worse anxiety filled him again. He took a deep breath. 

“That’s wonderful, Darlin. I just have one more thing I need to tell you then. And I understand if this changes things completely or makes you change your mind. It’s real complicated but I promise it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds. I…” His phone buzzed where it had fallen on the ground, distracting them both. 

Sam leaned over and picked it up, seeing two missed calls and about a dozen messages from both his progeny and Vincent, who’d he’d left with them to babysit. He scanned the messages, all telling him he needed to come home as soon as possible. Something about Vincent’s partner. 

“I…I have to go. This’ll have to wait for another time. I’m so so sorry, it’s a family emergency, Darlin.” He stood and started gathering his things. And though they seemed sad that he had to go, Tank stood and helped. 

Shoving his feet into his boots haphazardly and swinging his coat over his shoulders, Sam stood in the doorway of his partner’s ( partner!) apartment. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, holding their face once they were close enough. Tank leaned into his touch, a sad smile on their face. 

“I understand, Sammy. Just remember what you told me.” 

“I know, I know. I won’t break your heart. I won’t.” 

And he said it with such conviction that it looked like Tank might actually believe him. 

“I’ll text ya, Darlin.” He promised. And with that, he was gone.