Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts the night Asher shifts in his sleep for the first time.

He has no memory of it. The nightmare he’d been caught in had sunk its teeth into him, deep enough that not even his mate could shake him out of it. Not for lack of trying.

It takes a special kind of person to approach a shifted wolf, especially one under threat. Especially when they’re only human, defenceless and unempowered.

They were okay. Even in sleep, Asher’s wolf had had enough awareness to recognise the scent of his mate. But they hadn’t known that when they’d approached him, vulnerable and open, dressed in only their pajamas and completely at the mercy of his teeth.

(The idea of Angel finding him in that state, half-aware and dangerously volatile, sends a shiver down David’s spine. Asher had felt it too, his voice barely audible down the phone line, soft and shaking as he asked if they could use his spare room, ‘just for a little while’.)

Asher is still - not himself, by the time they finally make it to David’s doorstep in the early hours of the morning. There’s a frantic look in his eye, dark and almost wild, and it only settles when he crosses the threshold into his alpha’s home.

He makes eye contact with David, waiting off to the side as his mate takes the duffle bag filled with their bare necessities down the hall to the spare bedroom. He’s got that nervous energy that overtakes him sometimes, his long fingers folded together and tapping against his wrists.

He ducks his head close when David approaches, seeking out the contact, whispering the words for his ears and his alone.

“David. I could have hurt them.”

He’s more than shaken. There’s an edge to him, more than the panic or the lingering fear that clings to his skin, sharp and pungent, making the hackles of his wolf raise with the need to protect, defend his pack.

Asher is - terrified.

“You didn’t. You won’t.”

His eyes are wide and dark, swallowed by the width of his pupils, the whites of his knuckles shining through as he clasps his hands together. “I don’t - I don’t trust myself.”

Something in him settles when David reaches out to grasp the back of his neck, his palm tight against his nape, holding firm. Contact and touch had always settled him. That’s something that has remained unchanged from when they were kids.

“Then trust me.”

Ash sleeps in fits and starts that first night. They camp out in the living room, making a nest out of the pillows and blankets from the laundry closet and cushions stolen from the sofa.

They make a sleepover out of it, Asher’s mate and his own, and when Angel finally falls asleep, tucked in close against his side, David stays awake for a little while longer, watching over all of them.

He’ll know, if it happens again - his wolf will sense the shift and wake him up. Asher knows this too, and David knows that that knowledge is the only reason he feels safe enough to fall into a deeper sleep just before sunrise. David does too, surrounded by his mate and his pack, his hand curled around Ash’s ankle, their bodies a warm mass of limbs and blankets.

–

The next morning, it’s just him and Ash in the apartment. It’s midweek, but they have the next few days off - David had made sure of it, sending a few early morning texts to Milo and Miguel to make the necessary arrangements.

Their mates had left earlier, falling into familiar routines - although Asher’s mate had lingered by the door, grey eyes wavering, before David had caught their gaze and they’d let go of the breath they’d been holding, nodding in gratitude. It was - humbling, knowing he had their trust like that.

He catches sight of the scars while they were getting changed. It’s only been a few weeks, but with all the craziness of the immediate aftermath, he hadn’t thought – he hadn’t realised how stark they’d be.

They're concentrated in the center of his chest, just above his breastbone. His wounds were deep, splintering the bone - and David had seen it, felt it beneath his fingers, as he'd watched Sam's magic piece it all back together, the mesh of flesh and muscle and sinew knitting over to cover it once more.

It had been pure, dumb luck that the shade had missed his heart. But while the magic had been enough to save Asher’s life, it hadn’t been enough to erase all traces of the attack. The scars are still prominent, raised against the skin of his chest.

Lungs aching, David releases the breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding. It’s obvious enough that Asher notices, pausing from where he’d been reaching for his shirt, and shit.

“I know it looks bad,” he starts, a hard twist to his mouth, before he quiets under David’s stare. He glances down, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

“Ash.” He waits until Asher is looking at him again, his usually bright eyes shadowed. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Besides, it’s not as if David doesn’t have his own scars from that night. He looks at him for a long moment, thinking it over, before he reaches up to yank off his shirt, tugging the soft material over his head. Rolling out his neck, he can feel Asher’s eyes on him, tracing the faint lines that mark his own chest, fainter in the light but still there.

They’re an echo of the ones that Asher wears, although his will likely fade with time.

Ash can’t look away, his fingers gripped tight around the fabric of his shirt.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “When?”

“After you went down below.”

Asher does look up then, his eyes wide and haunted, and shit. That’s not - that wasn’t the reason why he’d shown him this. These scars, these weren’t on him. “Ash, no.”

He takes a shuddery breath, and David steps closer, his hand finding the back of his neck, squeezing. His next breath is stronger, as is the one that follows, until the tension eases back out of his shoulders, and he can meet his gaze again.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

David tightens his grip, squeezing briefly. “We’re not doing that, Ash. That day marked us all. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

His words seem to stick this time, make an impact. At least, he hopes it does. If he knows Ash - and he does - he knows that this will be a process, that it will take time.

He’s patient, especially when it comes to him. He can wait.

The corner of Ash’s mouth lifts up into a grin. “We make quite the pair, huh?”

Snorting, David releases his grip, sliding his palm down to squeeze his shoulder, before pulling away completely. “Finish getting dressed. I’ll make a start on breakfast.”

It’s ridiculous how predictable he is, the way he brightens at the prospect of food. “What would I do without you, buddy?”

David shakes his head, grabbing his shirt off the floor before making his way towards the kitchen. “You’ve got five minutes, then I expect you to help.”

The soft sound of his laughter follows him down the hall.

-

The first few nights are rough. Asher rarely falls asleep before the early hours of the morning, and David stays up with him. They talk, in those quiet moments before dawn: memories from the past, their plans for the future. They’re nearly always touching, whether it’s a hand around his ankle, or placed on his knee.

The physical proximity helps, calming him on an instinctual level - and it helps David too, easing a part of him that wanted his pack around him, bringing a sense of safety and comfort that he needs right now, just as much as Asher does.

And it seems to be helping.

Until the morning Asher shifts again.

His mate and Angel are already at work, and have been for over an hour. Asher had been sleeping in the living room, curled up on the sofa while David had started his morning routine. He’d been halfway through his preparations for a late breakfast when he’d heard the sound of growls over the whirr of the extractor fan.

He’s quick to shut off the stove, moving the frying pan to the back burner before heading towards it, silent on his feet as he makes his way through the apartment to the living space.

He finds Asher where he’d left him earlier, curled up amongst the blankets, except now he’s shifted. His wolf dominates the space, limbs a tangled mess, muzzle pressed close against his chest as his teeth bare in a silent snarl.

David shifts too, just enough that his voice deepens, that he can access his wolf. “Asher.”

It’s not enough. He can’t hear him, not like this - and with a quiet curse, David strips off his shirt and jeans, tossing them towards the far corner of the room before he completes the shift.

As soon as the connection settles into place, David can hear him. His voice is panicked, afraid, and it has his hackles raising, the feeling of his fear crawling over his skin, making his teeth ache to bite, fight the threat.

paindeathshadesNotEnoughDavidDavidDAVID-

Asher. I'm here.

A high pitched whine escapes his chest, his paws twitching, chest shaking. He’s shivering, David realises, his breathing rapid- and this, this must be a panic attack.

DavidNoDon'tLeaveDon'tGo-

His chest aches. Asher. But it’s no use. David leaps across the end of the sofa to reach him, his claws digging into the blankets and likely tearing the fabric, but he couldn’t give a shit.

He’s driven by the call of his pack, by the shaking need in Asher’s voice, and he closes the distance between them, dropping heavily to the floor beside him until he can press against his side.

It’s the movement that finally wakes him - he jerks out of sleep, a snarl leaving him before the recognition sets in and he whines. He’s still shaking as his body twists to press close against him, seeking out the physical contact, burying his face into his fur.

When he’s finally still, David lifts his head, and Ash turns to face him. He doesn’t shift back immediately, his eyes yellow and familiar as he looks at him, before he leans in to lick at his cheek, the underside of his jaw.

David grumbles a little, but lets him. The tension seeps out of him, slowly, until he can lay his head back down against the blankets, eyes falling half-mast, his exhaustion evident.

I didn’t… hurt you? Or…

No. Nobody was hurt. It’s just us.

He releases a shuddering breath. Thank god.

Can you shift back?

Yeah. Still, it takes another moment. There’s a fine tremor there, and David understands his hesitation. The loss of the wolf will leave him vulnerable again, open. He’d lose that final barrier between him and everything that’s bubbling beneath the surface, the turmoil of fear and emotion that David can sense there.

I’m with you.

When he finally does make the shift, it hits him all at once, his breath leaving him in a drawn-out gasp. When he wavers on his feet, hands trembling, David’s ready to catch him, steadying him within his arms.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“David.”

He crumbles, folding in on himself, his cheeks wet and hot as David pulls him close. He buries his face against his shoulder, seeking the contact, needing it, just as much as David does as his arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, his back.

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t… I can’t control it. David, I-” His voice cracks, his body shaking with a barely suppressed sob, and David holds him through it. An anchor in the storm. “I don’t know what to do.”

He sounds - desperate, unmoored. It’s not something that David thinks he’s ever heard from him before. It hurts, twisting sharply in his chest, cutting deep.

Still, he keeps his voice steady when he speaks, his grip tight. “You aren’t going to deal with this alone, Ash.”

Taking a breath, he draws back, catching Asher’s gaze. His eyes are dark and wet, and he looks so fucking lost that it takes him a moment to find the words again, but he manages it. He needs Ash to hear him.

“We talked. You and your mate can stay as long as you need.” Asher’s breath catches, and David continues. “You won’t be alone. We’ll keep you both safe.”

He’s discussed it with both of their mates already, early one morning when Asher was still sleeping. They’d both welcomed it; Babe especially. They weren’t used to feeling powerless like this, confronted with a situation so out of their control. David can relate.

Asher looks at him for a long moment, his dark eyes wide. “Fuck. I- thank you.”

David's grip shifts to the back of his neck, squeezing tight. “You’re my family, Ash. I will always be there for you; for you and your mate.”

Asher’s breath hitches, his eyes glassy. “David.”

Breathing a sigh, David pulls him in again, arms tightening around him as Asher’s fingers wind into the back of his shirt. They stay there for a long moment, pressed close, holding onto each other, until Asher releases a slow breath, steadier than before.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“Burn my kitchen down again, and you’ll be out on your ass.” His shoulders shake, but at least it’s with laughter this time, and some of the tension within him eases. “Your mate can stay, though.”

Asher tightens his grip on the back of his shirt. “Thank you, David.”

Chapter Text

It’s Angel’s idea to make the pillowfort. Asher had been the one behind the construction, putting the full weight of his tactical mind to the task until the entirety of the front room had been transformed.

David honestly hadn’t realised they’d owned that many blankets.

“There’s even more lights inside than last time,” Asher is explaining, his arms spread wide as he maps out the layout. “It’s even got rooms. That was your mate’s idea, and it’s genius, really. It’s essentially a pillowfort-condo.”

What’s impressive is that he and Angel had managed to construct the entire thing by themselves in a single afternoon.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, big guy, and you don’t need to worry.” He drops his hand down to rest against David’s forearm, grinning widely at his nonplussed look. “We planned this perfectly. There will be no collateral damage when we take it down.”

The timeline of when they plan on taking it down is left unspecified, and with the way his mate lights up when they walk into the room, he has a feeling it won’t be anytime soon.

But if he’s being honest with himself, it’s worth it, to see Asher smile like that again.

One day, he will get his living room back, but for the time being - he’s comfortable with how it’s ended up, even with the superficial mess. Filled like this, it feels safe. Like home. Pack.

With everything that has happened since last December, and with the ongoing situation with Quinn, it’s a relief to have the most important people in his life close. Protected.

He finds Angel in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the sleepover party they have planned for later - “breaking in the fort”, as Asher had phrased it.

They’re chopping up celery and bell peppers for the hummus dip - at his insistence, they needed to eat something other than junk food today - as he settles his arms around them, and they hum, leaning back into him.

“Thank you for being so chill with this, Davey.” They offer him a sweet smile as they glance up at him, and there’s flour smeared across their cheek from the cookies they baked earlier.

“He’ll be cleaning it up.”

They laugh, twisting in his arms until they’re face-to-face, their bright eyes soft as he reaches up to thumb away the powder on their cheek, their hands rising to rest against his chest.

“You know. They mentioned needing a few things though. Why don’t we help them move some stuff?”

He’d been planning on asking, but it doesn’t surprise him that they'd beaten him to the punch. They’re the same as Asher in that way, with their knack for reading people and anticipating their needs, before they have a chance to ask.

But like Ash, that often comes at the expense of themself, and their own needs.

He takes their hands, covering them with his own. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

They snort. “Of course I am.” Their arms spread wide, a smile curling at the corners of their mouth. “I mean, we have this whole house.”

Their eyes soften, and they press a little closer, slipping their hand from his grip to rest it against his cheek. “Besides. They’re my family too.”

They don't know how much it means to hear them say that.

Leaning forward, he closes the distance between them and kisses them, soft and slow. He’s still better at communicating with his actions, rather than his words, and so he puts everything he can't say into the contact, their body warm against his, fingers curling against his jaw.

They hum when he finally draws back, their green eyes bright, a faint flush on their cheeks as their lips curl into a smile.

“Maybe we can teach Ash how to cook more than steak.”

He releases a soft snort. “Good luck with that.”

–

It’s a few days later that they all go over to Ash and Babe’s place to help move their stuff out. What should have been a quick trip turns into a massive reorganisation effort, requiring more hands than they have, and Asher calls for reinforcements from the pack, much to David’s chagrin.

“We’ll make a party of it, big guy.” Asher’s grin is easy, more relaxed than it's been in weeks, and it’s that more than anything that gets David to agree.

Milo and his mate swing by later in the afternoon, bringing their truck, and Asher’s mate orders pizza. They ‘have a hook up’, they explain, a small, secretive smile on their lips, and he’s still waiting on the explanation, although the look of nervous anticipation on the delivery man's face makes him think that it's probably for the best that he doesn't know.

He’s balancing a stack of pizza boxes on his way to the kitchen - wolf shifters eat a lot, the additional calories necessary to balance out the amount of energy it takes to shift - when Asher’s mate approaches to help. Together, they dish out the slices, elbows brushing as they work side by side at the narrow counter.

He watches them as they work, their movements efficient as they break down the pizza boxes for recycling. It’s not often that they spend time alone together like this, between the long hours they work and his unpredictable schedule. They’re looking better than they had when they’d first arrived, and Asher does, too, and it’s a relief. A sign that things are getting better.

Their motions pause and he catches a flash of grey before he glances away, caught. He doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable. He picks up a selection of paper plates, preparing to make his way into the other room- when they break the silence.

“David.” He stops, and they wait until he meets their gaze. “I wanted to thank you.”

What? He turns to face them fully, placing the plates back down on the kitchen island, and he’s sure they can read the confusion in his expression. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I know. But I want to.” They’re watching him, grey eyes soft but serious. They’re the type that doesn't like to leave things unsaid. They’re alike in that, valuing honesty and clarity above all else.

They’re not one for empty compliments. When they say something, they mean it.

“Thank you for looking out for Ash. For us.” They take a breath, as if to steel themself. “...and thank you for bringing him back to me.”

They don’t just mean the last few weeks. There’s a vulnerability there that he doesn’t see often with them, in the tremble of their jaw, and he takes a step closer, narrowing the distance between them.

“Wren.” The shape of their name is unfamiliar in his mouth; he doesn’t use it often enough, and he makes a mental note to fix that. “I’m here for you. The both of you.”

Their smile is tentative, but honest. They reach up to swipe at their cheeks, brushing away the wetness there. He reaches out to them, carefully, until his hand on their shoulder, and they take a breath, and then another, their heart rate returning back to normal.

When they finally glance up again and meet his gaze, they’re calmer. “Thanks, David.”

It’s a start, he decides, and it’s enough.

–

It’s another week before he and Asher start taking jobs again. Small gigs, nothing big; just enough to get them back into the swing of things. The rest of the pack knows that they’re living together, even if they don’t know all the details - although it doesn’t make much difference. There’s no keeping secrets in a shifter pack. You can’t hide much from a wolf’s nose.

Asher throws himself back into work with a vengeance. He pushes himself hard, too hard, ignoring his limits. His sleeping schedule is still irregular, even if he downplays the worst of it, and David can see the signs of exhaustion, the bruises that shadow his eyes, the strain in his features.

It’s only a matter of time before something slips.

A fight breaks out at an elemental showcase. It’s an accident, although Christian is involved; their relationship has been better of late, especially after the events of the new year. It’s a small mercy amidst all the shit that’s happened since then.

Asher pushes Christian out of the way of an incoming attack, taking the brunt of a freezing blast of water that would have caught the other wolf off guard. The momentum sends him crashing into the opposite wall, the collision hard enough for him to lose focus of his shift.

It only takes a moment for another member of the pack to take the water elemental down, pushing the guy’s face to the floor and slapping on a pair of warded cuffs that restrict magical use for good measure.

Ash doesn’t get up right away, although he waves off Christian when he comes over, a worried scowl on his lips as he tries to offer his help. “I’m fine, really. I just need a minute.”

He’s still crouched by the wall after the fight, panting and favouring his right side, although he plasters on a smile when David breaks away from the group to check up on him.

“Hey there, big guy. Honestly, it looks worse than it is.”

A look from David makes him show it, and he can’t help his sharp intake of breath when he sees that one of the scars over his ribs has broken open, the wound red and weeping. “Shit.”

Ash winces as he glances down, before pressing his hands against the sides of it, as if he can push it back together. “Fucker used ice shards. We’ve gotta write him up for that.”

There’s blood on his hands, and David can’t look away. For a moment, all he can see is bloodied earth, the hum of the wards around them, the rush of blood beneath his palms.

“...vid. David.” He blinks, breaking away from the memory. When he glances up, he finds Asher’s eyes on him, pained but steady, his brow pinched with worry. “There you are. Are... are you okay?”

Of course Ash would be worried about him, even when he’s injured and bleeding. Clenching his jaw, he shakes it off, focusing back on his beta. He can handle this.

Reaching out, he places his hands above Asher’s. “Stay still.”

Closing his eyes, he focuses, finding that core of magic inside of him, bright and sharp. There, he can feel the aspects of the wolf that lives within him, the shape of his fangs and claws. It’s familiar, like a second skin, the shift as easy as breathing.

But he’s learned that there’s more that he can do with his magic.

“Breathe with me.” Taking a breath, he empties his mind, until just one thought remains.

Heal.

His magic twists, taking form, reaching past his extended hands until it finds its target.

Asher takes a sharp intake of breath. When David looks at him his eyes are wide, and David can feel his shock through his aura, and the way it gradually shifts into something else, something warm and soft. Comfort, he realises. Safety.

He doesn’t linger on the way that makes him feel. Instead, he focuses on his magic, the way it numbs the pain and works to knit together the broken skin until there’s just a reddened mark left in its place.

With all luck, it shouldn’t scar. Thank fuck.

When he’s done, he sits back on his heels, shaking out his hands, the tingle of magic lingering in his fingers. He feels a little lightheaded, but it will pass - he knows that, now.

“When did you learn to do that?” Asher’s voice is hushed, and he’s looking at David as if he’s seeing him for the very first time.

“Recently. I talked to Marie. She’s been teaching me what she can.” He grimaces. “It’s not much.”

Asher’s fingers map his skin beneath the ruined tatters of his shirt, gently probing the fresh scar tissue. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he releases a shaky breath.

“It’s more than I can do.” He looks at him then, and his eyes are wet, although he blinks it away quickly before glancing back over to where Christian is watching, a guilty twist to the hard line of his mouth. “You okay over there?”

Christian lets out a scoff, a flush rising high on both of his cheeks under the attention. “I’m fine,” he gets out, before he turns, walking away from them both in a huff.

There’s an amused twist to the line of Asher’s mouth as he watches them go. “Guess that means he’s fine, then.”

He shrugs off the hand that David offers him, pushing himself to his feet with a muffled groan. “You’ve done enough, big guy. I’ve got this.”

He wobbles when he’s fully upright, but at least he’s standing. David reaches out to grip him by the shoulder, before he brings him in close. He releases a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when Asher’s forehead brushes against his, and Asher does the same, pressing into the contact.

“Thank you, David.”

His hand finds the back of his neck and squeezes. “Don’t do that again.”

–

They leave the rest of the team to finish filing the reports with the department before making their way directly back to the house. If anything else comes up, Christian will handle it. He’s got the experience, and with Milo still off-duty, he’s the most senior member of the team.

Asher texts ahead to let their mates know that they’ll be home early, with a short summary of what happened. David keeps his focus on the road, working on covering the distance between the city and his den as quickly and safely as possible.

Ash is practically asleep by the time they arrive at the house. He wakes with a yelp when David touches him, wincing visibly as he clutches his injured side. He flat out refuses to visit Marie to complete the healing.

“You’ve done enough,” he insists, when David pushes, and he’s tempted to pull rank, even if Asher wouldn’t thank him for it. But it’s late, and there are enough lights on in the house to mean that someone is up and waiting, and he won’t keep them.

“We’ll go in the morning.” Asher nods, but it’s not enough - David needs to hear him say it. “Ash.”

He pauses with his foot hanging out of the car, turning back to face him. He’s tired, but he still manages a weak smile when their eyes meet. “I hear you, David. In the morning.”

There’s more to be said, but he lets it go, for now.

They split ways at the end of the hall. Asher stumbles into the guest bedroom where his mate is waiting, and David finds Angel asleep in their room, hair a mess, curled up on his side of the bed. He lets out a snort as he heads into the ensuite, washing quickly, before sliding into bed and wrapping himself around them, his face pressed against the back of their neck.

He doesn’t relax until he can hear the slow, steady rhythm of breathing from down the hall. The house creaks as it settles, the wood popping as it contracts under the dropping temperatures, and he sinks into the familiarity of it, the feeling of safety, the warmth of his mate around him.

They’re safe. Asher’s safe. They’re home.

Everything else can wait until tomorrow.

Chapter Text

It’s in the early hours of the morning that David finds Asher in the living room.

He’s curled up on the couch in a blanket, hunched over a game controller as he focuses on the screen, although he glances up when David hesitates in the doorway, a crooked smile brightening his face.

“You need something, big guy?” He keeps his voice hushed, mindful of the others in the house that are still sleeping. The shadows beneath his eyes almost look like bruises, the result of ignoring the magic in his system, and he looks exhausted. He should be asleep.

“We need to talk.”

A beat passes before Asher pauses the game. There’s a wry twist to his mouth when he turns to face David, but at least his eyes are clearer than they had been earlier. There’s more colour in his cheeks, too.

“Hitting me with the ‘we need to talk’?” He cracks a grin. “You breaking up with me, David?”

David levels him with a look and he winces, letting the controller drop into his lap and reaching up to scrub a tired hand over his face. He moves slowly, carefully, as if he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves any faster - and David regrets not taking him to a healer - a proper one.

As if he can sense the direction of his thoughts, Ash glances up again, meeting his gaze. “I’m fine, David. All patched up. You did a good job. Really.”

He lifts his arm, twisting gingerly at the waist as if to prove it, and David frowns, folding his arms over his chest as he steps further into the room. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Asher lets out an indignant snort. “You’re one to talk.”

Touché. But this wasn’t about him. “I’m not the one working jobs on barely enough sleep. I know you’ve been staying up most nights, Ash.”

He stiffens, his pale eyes widening as they flick to David’s, holding his gaze for a split second before he glances away, biting into his lip. Caught.

“It’s better than it was-” Asher cuts himself off at David’s sharp look. Goddamnit. He can feel the tension in him curling his fingers into fists. Last night had been close, too close, and there was no way Asher couldn’t have dodged that attack on a good day, even with the shittiest luck.

Instead, he’d been completely sideswiped by it, leaving David to dig the bloodied shards of ice out of his side and piece him back together.

“It’s affecting your reflexes, Ash.” Asher twitches, his eyes on his hands, as if the words themselves were barbed. “And after what happened today...”

“Fuck. I know, David. I know. I’m working on it, I swear.”

David watches as he runs a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, mouth pinching as he tries and fails to find the words.

“Look. I’m better busy, David.” He holds his gaze for a long moment, his jaw working. “Please. I need this.”

He’s shaking. It’s subtle, but it's there. It’s not exhaustion, or pain, but something else - panic, David realises, with a sinking feeling inside his chest. Fuck, fuck.

He crosses the distance between them, crouching on the floor before him until they're at eye level, but the shakes don't stop. Releasing a breath, he wraps his hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in until he’s resting against his chest.

“I know, Ash.”

He understands. Fuck, of course he does. After his dad, and after everything else that’s happened in the last few years, he’d always grounded himself with the work. Asher and him, they were alike. Too alike. David wouldn’t take that away from him.

“I’m not going to stop you from taking jobs.” He tightens his grip on the back of Asher's neck as he releases a breath, some of the tension in him easing. “But you need to stop taking risks. If you pull another stunt like that, you’ll be benched.”

“I hear you, David.”

“I mean it, Ash. I’m not gonna lose you over something so - stupid.”

“You won’t lose me, David. I told you, it’s you and me. To hell and back.”

With the words come the memories, muted screams, the hum of the ward above them, heavy and oppressive, Asher’s eyes on him steady and true through the blood and muck.

He leans forward, until their foreheads are pressed together, letting his eyes slip shut as he releases a long, slow breath. “To hell and back.”

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other for several long moments, the soft melody of the game menu filling the silence, before Asher finally draws back.

He looks impossibly small like this, curled up on the couch, the hand-knitted blanket his mate’s family had gifted them last winter draped around his shoulders.

He hesitates, glancing at the space on the sofa beside him. “Sit with me? It’s not like either of us are gonna get much sleep after this.”

He’s not wrong. The light in the room had been steadily brightening, the sky a dusky pink in the prelude to dawn. Even if David had gone to bed, there was no way he'd be able to sleep, not after the stress of last night.

David considers his nest of blankets. “Is there enough space?”

The way his expression brightens eases a tightness in David's chest, that he hadn’t realised was there. “Of course there is. Let me just–”

He shoves the extra cushions he’d brought in off the couch, wiggling to the side until there was enough room between his body and the end of the couch for David to fit. Still, it’s a tight fit, although he doesn’t mind it, the warm weight of Asher's thigh against his own solid and steadying.

Catching his gaze, Asher offers him a crooked smile.

“Thank you, David.” He huffs out a soft laugh. “Shit, I seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

David lets out a low snort, bumping his shoulder against his. “Are you in too deep with this campaign, or do you want to do a raid with me?”

Asher perks up at that, his expression brightening as his smile widens into a grin. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do this, big guy.”

They only get partway through the raid before Asher's yawning causes him to miss half his shots. How someone can fall asleep to the sound of laser pistols and explosions was beyond him, but he turns the console off, tugging the controller from Asher’s loosened grip.

Asher is watching him, eyes cracked open beneath the messy strands of his hair, visibly fighting to stay awake. When David goes to push to his feet, he reaches out, snagging his sleeve, holding him back.

“Can we stay here? Just… for a little while.”

It’s comfortable enough, in the nest of blankets and pillows, and David will be the first up, anyway. “Sure.”

And it feels right when Asher falls asleep with his head on his shoulder, the soft rush of his breath against his neck, the arch of his nose pressed into his skin. Like Pack. Safety. Home.

–

Things get a little better after that. It takes a few more weeks and more than a few false starts, but Asher starts sleeping through the night. The changes are immediate. He seems - more like himself again. Quick to smile, even quicker to laugh.

David hadn’t realised how much he’d missed that.

They fall into a routine, and it’s good. Simple. Easy. That is, until everything changes.

–

David likes to run in the early mornings, just as the sun is rising. The heat in their area of California isn’t dreadful, but still, it’s cooler in the mornings, and it’s quiet, the ever present bustle of suburban life absent as he makes his way through the woods.

It’s peaceful, in its own way. A little slice of nature, on the outskirts of the city. A moment to himself, away from the pressures and stresses of pack life. With the rest of the house asleep, tucked safely behind the wards, he can just run.

He moves carefully when he gets back to the house, pocketing his keys and walking silently through the halls. It’s part of the reason he goes so early; he doesn’t want to wake anyone up as he moves around the house, cooling down before he takes a shower.

He’s just grabbed a towel from the linen closet in the hall when he hears the whimpering. It’s soft and familiar, Asher.

Fuck.

Dropping the towel onto the sofa, he makes his way towards it, focusing on the sound - human, which means he hasn’t shifted yet. Good. Maybe he can get him out in time, before the nightmare fully takes hold; get him stable. His mate would be up soon - they were always an early riser, keeping to a tight schedule with work, and they’d been under enough stress lately, without this.

He’s nearly outside the door of the spare room when he hears another voice, soft and gentle. “Hush, puppy.”

David pauses, listening, trying to put the pieces together- when another soft sound breaks the silence.

A broken off moan.

Oh.

“Babe, babe- please-”

Another gentle sound, an exhaled breath that's more like a soft pant. “You’re being so good for me. Just a little more.”

He hears another whimper, high pitched and needy, his fists clenching at his sides. If he listens a little closer, he can hear the soft sound of skin against skin, the shuffle of bodies moving around bed sheets, before Asher moans again, high and thready, and he’s only ever that vocal when he’s close–

“That’s it. I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

Fuck.

David finally moves, turning forcefully away and making his way back down the hall.

He’s breathless by the time he reaches the bathroom, a tremor in his hands as he turns on the water, using more strength than he’d intended, the metal creaking under his grip.

Fuck, fuck.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. When those two were getting together, David used to walk in on them in their shared apartment, all the time.

But it’s been years now, and a lot has changed since then.

He steps into the water before it’s finished heating up, turning his face into the stream, eyes closing against the pressure.

They haven’t talked about the night he’d shared with Ash and his partner. He’s mentioned it, briefly, to Angel, although he’d kept the details relatively vague- just that Asher and him had had a history once, which had culminated in a single night with him and his mate before David had met them.

There’d been a curious light in their eyes as they’d listened, but they hadn’t pushed him to reveal more, just nodded when he was done and admitted that they’d wondered about it before. Not that I mind - really. We all have a history. Thank you for sharing yours with me.

(He’d kissed them, then, unable to put into words just how much that had meant. Their acceptance, and their trust in him. He loves them, more than he thinks he could ever say.)

David has thought about that night, on and off, through the years. It’s a fond memory, one that he appreciates, for how they’d helped him open up again, in ways he’d almost forgotten.

Asher and his mate were good for each other, just like him and his angel were.

But he didn’t mean to stand there, listening to them, like some sort of fucking voyeur.

It’s just the fact that they’re living together like this again, after all this time. He’s not used to walking in on shit like that. Not anymore.

He cranks on the water jets, turning until the water gets at the sore muscles of his back and legs, working out the knots in his muscles - although the tension doesn’t fade, not completely.

But for now, it’s enough. He pushes everything else out of his mind.

–

Asher and Babe are in the kitchen by the time he makes it out of the shower, a fresh pot of coffee brewing as Asher works at the - godforbid - stove. His mate catches David’s eye as he passes, a warm gleam there as they send him a thumbs up. I’ve got this.

Angel is just getting up when he reaches their room, changing out of his running clothes and grabbing a fresh work shirt from the wardrobe. Their hair is a mess, creases from the pillow on their cheeks as they blink up at him, and they’re beautiful and sweet and his.

Warm palms find his skin, slipping around his waist as they press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and the last of the tension in him relaxes, finally, with their touch.

He turns in their arms and kisses them, slow and deep and intent. He doesn’t care that they’ve just woken up and haven’t had the chance to brush their teeth yet. To him, they’re perfect. He loses himself in them, the taste of them, their softness and heat against him.

His emotions are still tangled up inside of him, but with them, everything makes sense. They’re his missing piece, his anchor in the storm.

He's so goddamn lucky.

When he pulls back, they’re both breathless, their eyes dark and shining. “What was that for?”

His hand finds their cheek, his thumb brushing along their cheekbones. “Do I need a reason?”

An amused smile flickers across their expression, their hands coming up to rest against his chest. Their palm presses over his heart, soft and warm. “Never,” they say, open and honest, and he loves them, so goddamn much.

They lean up to kiss him, softer this time, and he wraps them up in his arms, holding them close as their fingers tangle in his hair. “I love you, angel.”

It’s a murmur against their lips, soft touches and shared breath. They sigh against him, their seafoam green eyes soft as they flicker between his, before they lean in to kiss him again.

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, Asher’s voice calling through the wood. “Breakfast is ready, lovebirds.”

“Thought you were watching the stove.”

His laughter rings out, bright, brighter than David has heard it in a while. “My mate sent me! They’ve got a handle on it; nothing to worry about, big guy.”

With a long sigh, David untangles his grip, pulling away reluctantly.

“Let’s go. We should at least try to save the cabinets.”

“I heard that.”