Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thunder.

Tank woke up with a start, jerking so fast that their back slammed into the desk behind them. They looked around frantically, eyes wide as golf balls.

David Shaw stood in front of them, entirely unimpressed. "Good to see you were paying attention," he grumbled coldly. Tank looked down at the pile of books David had slammed on their desk.

"Oh, don't be too mean," Asher Tibolt swung an arm over David's shoulder, leaning into his side, "not everyone is as studious and driven as you. Besides, they needed their beauty sleep - how else are they gonna pull that look off?" Asher sent them a wink that sent heat crawling up their face.

They glared back, eyes dark and narrowed. David didn't budge at the seething look. "You better pull your weight or I'm taking all the credit."

Asher laughed, putting a hand on David's chest like he was the sole thing keeping them separated. Fair enough - Tank had a habit of sizing people up. "Come on, David. Give them a break. They probably don't even know what you're talking about." They could take David in a fight. Probably.

David's eyes flashed to Asher briefly before he took a deep breath, and his shoulders finally relaxed. His gaze was softer when he looked back at Tank. "We got paired up to work on a project together."

They leaned back against the desk behind them, crossing their arms. "Sounds to me like you'd rather have someone else."

"You weren't my first pick," David snapped back. He looked back at the lively speech teacher in the front and watched her happily chat with a student. Tank got the feeling he'd already asked. David sighed in frustration and defeat. "Either way, we're stuck with each other. Where do you want to meet?"

Tank blinked. "Meet?"

"We're not getting class time to do it." Tank was silent, squaring their jaw. David rolled his eyes. "Fine, my place." Their eyes widened, and they opened their mouth to argue. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday after school; only time I don't have practice."

Tank didn't like being interrupted, but the bell rang before they could protest, and David and Asher were already gathering their bags and heading for the door. All Tank had left to give them a scolding glare as they went.

Then a familiar sophomore squeezed past the two seniors, looking around wildly for Tank (even though they always sat in the same spot), and gave them a stupid grin. Benny weaved through the desks to get to them with ease. "You look like crap. What's up?"

The two took a second to complete an overly complicated handshake before Tank stood up, swinging their bag over their shoulder. They began walking down the hall, Benny falling in step beside them. "David Shaw wants me to come to his house." They shot a glare at his back.

Benny followed their line of sight. "Golden boy David?" Benny motioned his hand above both their heads to gesture David's height. "Resting bitch face and bad attitude?"

"Yeah. His stupid boyfriend was there too." Tank blushed at the wink Asher had given them.

Benny laughed. "Remember that time he went an entire day with his shoes on the wrong feet and didn't notice?"

"It's all he would talk about for the next week." They rolled their eyes at the memory.

"So are you actually thinking about going?"

They thought about it for a moment before they remembered all the dirty looks David had sent them, all the smiles Asher had sent them before turning to a group of friends and giggling like they were some joke, Milo Greer shoving them out his way and into a locker. "No."

"Oh so taking on two guys at once doesn't do it for you?" Tank elbowed Benny in the gut, sending him doubling over for air but laughing nonetheless. "Sorry, sorry. Two and a half."

"What if I snapped your leg like a toothpick?"

Benny didn't reply; his eyes suddenly trained on a girl across the hall. Dani Ramirez: prettiest girl Tank had ever met. Prettiest girl in the whole school, maybe.

Tank snorted. "Guess I'm not the only one?"

Benny looked back at them with unfocused eyes. "Huh?"

Tank turned a bright red, their eyes flicking towards the Shaw boys ahead. "Nothing."

Chapter Text

Tank had tried to escape the school before they could be caught that Wednesday. They'd even had Benny wake them up in Chemistry just before the bell rang (which Benny had taken as an opportunity to pour water on their face - they punched him for that). Now they were speed-walking down the sidewalk from the school, backpack slung over their shoulder, eyes trained on the ground to make themselves smaller.

That didn't stop Asher from spotting them.

"Hey, where you going?" Asher called out. Tank spared a glance at him and saw that he was sitting in the passenger seat of David's old pickup truck with the window down. They rolled their eyes and grit their teeth.

David cruised next to them.

"You're going the wrong way," David snarked from across the truck.

"Yeah," Asher cooed, "and it's a little faster to drive."

Tank gave Asher a skeptical look. "Oh, is it faster to drive? My bad - didn't realize."

This made Asher beam with so much triumph that Tank wanted to punch out his nose. "No problem, buddy! Just hop on in, and we'll give you a ride!"

"We are not buddies."

"Sure, sure. Get in the car."

Tank stopped in their tracks, and David stopped beside the curb. The thought occurred that they could book it right now and lose them in the alleys - then they remembered that Milo and Asher were the fastest players in most sports they played.

Milo popped open the door for Tank before sliding back over to his seat in the back. They shrank a little, climbing in.

"I kinda figured we'd have to hunt you down," Milo said. "That or David actually would take all the credit."

Tank looked between the three boys, eyes narrowed. They didn't reply, only hugged their bag to their chest and leaned their head against the window. They watched Dahlia's suburbs cruise by, and Asher's voice served only as background noise until Tank felt their eyes slipping closed.

Then, just as soon as they'd gotten into the car, David parked with a jolt that startled Tank awake. They took a sharp breath, watching David get out of the truck, then Asher and Milo, each slamming the door on the way out.

Asher turned and waited for Tank as they fumbled with the car door and slid out themselves, still holding on tightly to their bag. They shut the door with a far-more careful approach and started towards the house. Asher followed them inside.

David Shaw's house was much bigger than anywhere Tank had ever been. It was a two-story with big windows. It lacked the smell of cigarette smoke that they had never gotten used to, and everything looked so clean that they were almost scared to touch anything.

They took their shoes off at the door, and though Milo and David didn't, Asher followed suit.

Tank followed David into the living room and stood awkwardly by the couch, watching Milo and Asher disappear around a corner. David sat in an armchair, set his bag down, and gave Tank an annoyed glance. "You can sit."

So Tank looked down at the end of the couch and sat at the edge. David rolled his eyes but started pulling folders out of his bag nonetheless. He was a lot more organized than Tank ever was.

"Why do you always fall asleep?" David said flatly, almost absent-mindedly, as he set his binder on the coffee table.

Their lips pressed tight as they stared at David, watching his every movement. He looked back up at them with that same irritated glint in his eye, waiting for them to answer. They didn't.

"I have obtained the snacks!" Asher called out, rounding the corner. He held a bowl above his head like a trophy and only set it down once he reached the coffee table: chips, sweets, beef jerky, more.

Tank stared down at it with a rumbling stomach.

"You didn't do shit but take it from me after I put it all in the bowl," Milo snapped, following after Asher.

"Yeah - 'obtained'," Asher noted back in amusement.

Milo sneered but snatched a bag of chips from the bowl and crashed into the couch on the other side of Tank. Asher happily grabbed a rice crispy treat and some jerky, sat between the two with his legs crossed, and offered the jerky to Tank.

Tank took it, trying to bite back the familiar heat in their face. "Thanks," they grumbled, partially hoping he didn't hear. He offered them a grin anyway, which only made them blush more.

Then the door opened again, and all four kids looked up at the hulking figure step through the same arch they had. A calloused hand rubbed the back of his neck as he groaned loudly. "That woman might kill me." Then the figure finally turned to look at the boys and smiled. He looked at David, Milo, and Asher. His eyes stopped on Tank.

He gave David a raised eyebrow.

"They're my partner for that project I told you about," David grumbled, giving Tank a side-eye.

The man nodded in recognition and smiled back at Tank, offering them a large hand to shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm David's old man - you can call me Gabe."

Tank stared at his hand momentarily, almost wondering if this was a trap, but they took his hand despite the hesitance. Gabe's grip was solid and firm, but it didn't hurt. That was... different than what they were used to.

The room was silent for an uncomfortably long time as Tank avoided the man's eye contact. Then Asher finally spoke up. "We call them Tank."

They blinked - no one ever asked for their name. Had that been what Gabe was waiting for? A new thought: did EVERYONE call them Tank?

They played back the sound of Asher saying it in their head.

... Tank was cool, actually. "Tank," they said again, confirming it. They could feel Asher's dumb little grin again.

Gave hummed, grabbing a beef jerky from the bowl for himself. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Tank. Feel free to stop by anytime." David looked between the two with pinched brows. Gabe caught David's squint and sighed, giving Tank a sympathetic look. "Say, kid, you live close by?"

Tank shrunk back. "... No."

"What about your parents? Are they in the picture?"

What was this, an interrogation? "Yeah, they're close."

"Are they wolves?"

... Not where they thought he was going with this. They shifted uncomfortably, looking at the coffee table. "Um, yeah." That was a lie.

"Why don't you tell them to stop by sometime?"

Shit.

"They're busy."

A beat of silence, and Tank looked up at Gabe with pressed lips. If he knew they were lying, he smiled nonetheless. "Okay... Well, just let them know I'm good to talk with them whenever they're available - if they're up for it. Just want you all to feel welcome."

Tank nodded, their shoulders up to their ears.

Then Gabe groaned like an old man again - loud and dramatic - and stretched his shoulders as he started towards the kitchen. "I'm making spaghetti and meatballs. Everyone want a plate?"

David raised two fingers as Gabe passed. Milo called out, "Me." Asher simply started following Gabe into the kitchen. Then Milo followed Asher. David set down his binder and reared after them. Then they were all around the corner, chatting loudly.

Tank stared from their spot on the couch, finally feeling the softness of the cushions.

They needed to stay awake.

Gabe Shaw was friendly. They wondered how David could be so grumpy all the time. Asher was... okay.

Stay awake.

Maybe they would let them crash here for the night? Would that be weird? Suspicious if they didn't want to go home?

Tank took a sharp breath, fighting encroaching sleep. They squinted their eyes open and felt the cushions on their back.

They really, really couldn't be late for work tonight. Not again.

The sound of distant chattering, the hum of a working air conditioner.

Stay...

***

David rounded the corner less than half an hour later when Asher pointed out that Tank was alone in the living room. His face fell flat immediately as he did, shoulders sinking in frustration. "Seriously?"

"Huh?" Asher poked his head around too.

Tank was curled up on the side of the couch, sunken deep into the cushions. Their chest rose up and down in slow breaths.

David looked back at the kitchen counter, a plate set aside for Tank, thanks to Asher. Annoying.

"Oh. We should probably get them a blanket," Asher suggested.

This, of course, piqued Gabe's attention. David tried not to roll his eyes as his dad stepped around them toward the lone wolf. He was already pulling a blanket off the shelf.

"They're here to help with a project," David grumbled.

Gabe still heard. "Do the project then," he said as if it were that simple or fair.

"I'm not gonna let them take credit for my work."

Gabe narrowed his eyes.

David bit the inside of his cheek, reconsidered his argument, and went forward with a new case. "They're always falling asleep in class, getting into fights; I don't think I've ever seen them without that resting b-" a beat of silence, "... glare."

Gabe's face slowly eased, considering David's observations. "... Do you think helping someone else out somehow tarnishes your work ethic?"

David hated when Gabe tried to explain his own feelings to him. He hated it even more when Gabe was right. It was worst when putting it into words made him feel ridiculous. "... No," he grumbled.

"Then help the kid out," Gabe said, his tone easy and laid-back again. "You could be the one change they need to help them turn their life around." He threw the blanket over the lone wolf, covering them entirely, and gently tucked in the sides.

David looked away when Gabe tried to make eye contact with him. He didn't want him to see his scowl. Then he was turning the corner to head back into the kitchen.

"I'm getting the rest of dinner into the tupperware."

Chapter Text

That week, David finished the project with little help from Tank, who had slept through the entire process. Despite this, Gabe had made David promise to give Tank credit and even invite the kid over to help tutor them; much to David's dismay, Gabe also took the extra step of inviting them over himself. Seeing David's sneering face behind Gabe, they tentatively said, "I'll think about it." Despite this, Gabe sent them home with a heaping tub of leftover spaghetti.

Gabe didn't see Tank again until late fall, long before sunrise.

Gabe lightly honked his pickup truck's horn, making the kid jump. They looked over their shoulder, squinted into his headlights, and he rolled his window down.

"Little cold for just a hoodie and shorts, kiddo. Where're you headed?"

Tank seemed to barely recognize him, and their shoulders shrugged to make themselves smaller, bowing their head. "... Going somewhere."

"Need a ride?"

"No." They said it too fast.

"Right..." Gabe rolled beside them for a little while and watched them shiver. "Can I give you a ride anyways?"

The kid turned, glowering at Gabe in annoyance. The morning dew had begun to cling to their hair and make it stick to their face. "I don't need a ride."

"And I'm offering it to you anyways."

Gabe didn't mind stubbornness. David had always been just as stubborn (though on vastly different subjects, like including Milo in his little escapades with Ash when they were in middle school). The two were similar in that regard. He gave the kid an easy smile. "We're headed in the same direction - let me help you out."

Tank looked down the long, dark road the two were traveling down into the city part of Dahlia. Cold, lonely, wet. Gabe reached over and turned the heater up in his truck as subtly as possible. "If you let me know where you're headed, I can even drop you off on my way to work."

He immediately wanted to take it back when they tensed back up. "I was just headed to the dollar store to grab some stuff."

The dollar store was definitely closed this early.

"Okay," Gabe said anyway. "Hop in, and I'll drop you off. Sound okay?"

A long beat of hesitance was filled only by a cold breeze howling through the trees and soft old-school rock playing on the dashboard. Then Tank was shuffling towards the car door, opening it, and sliding into the passenger seat. Gabe's smile widened. "Seat belt." They buckled up, and Gabe shifted into drive.

The drive was long and quiet. Tank had rested their head against the window, fighting to keep their eyes open. Gabe made sure to avoid the potholes in the road.

Eventually, they were deep into the city. Gabe was pulling into the dollar store parking lot, hoping there wasn't another dollar store he didn't know about.

"Looks like it's closed," he said simply. He turned to look at the kid, watched them stare at the store with a blank face. "Anywhere else I can drop you off, Kid?"

"No."

"You sure? I can take you home-"

"No." Then they were unbuckling. "I can get home. Don't be late for work."

Gabe didn't know what to say, so he watched as they climbed out of the truck. Watched them disappear around a corner and out of sight.

... Following them would be a betrayal of trust.

So, he went to work.

And then he started seeing this kid every morning except Friday, walking around with a little sack in hand. A pillowcase? Always in that thin old hoodie. Always shivering. All the way deep into winter.

Gabe pulled over next to them this time, rolling down his window. "You and I know it's too cold out here for that. Get in."

Tank habitually shifted on their feet when they were cornered - Gabe desperately wanted to know where they got that from. For a second, he thought Tank would bolt, staring down the icy road with a set face. Then they reached out a hand without looking, latched onto the car door, and pulled it open. Gabe turned up the heat.

"I'm not a part of your pack..." they mumbled.

Gabe looked at them with a raised brow. "So you think I'm gonna let a 15-year-old walk around in 10 degrees weather?"

"I'm 16."

"Right," Gabe said with a tone dripping in sarcasm. A beat of silence. "Get buckled."

He waited for the click of their seatbelt before throwing it into drive. "Where are you headed?"

"Dollar store."

Gabe shot them a skeptical look.

Their lip curled. "Why's it matter?" Gabe didn't reply. They scoffed. "I'm not a part of your stupid pack."

"Don't talk about my pack like that."

"Why? You afraid I'm right?"

Gabe's teeth ground together, popping his jaw. "Quit while you're ahead."

"Should've done that with your wife before you had David-"

Gabe swung into a parking lot, his truck stopping with a lurch. "You don't want my help? Get out."

Tank didn't look surprised. Didn't really look much of anything. Their jaw was squared. They looked at Gabe coolly, unbuckled, reached over, and opened their door. He silently waited for them to climb out, waited for them to slam it, too.

They didn't slam the door, though. They just stood outside his truck with that same old slouchy posture and waited for him to start driving.

... So he waited, too.

Watched them stand in the cold wind for a minute or two before they realized he wasn't moving. He watched as they began shuffling away and around a corner.

Gabe knew what lashing out looked like. Milo lashed out whenever anyone brought up Colm. Christian and Amanda lashed out when they were embarrassed or flustered. David lashed out when he felt a sliver of injustice. Kids lash out because they don't know how to handle big emotions that make them feel vulnerable.

This one clearly didn't want him anywhere near their home life, and following them would be a betrayal of trust.

So, he went to work.

In the next few weeks, Gabe would roll by them every morning and offer them a ride. They'd very hesitantly get in. Then, he would drive them to the dollar store and drop them off without any questions. Winter blew through, and spring flowers began to bloom, and it became a habit the two danced every morning. He didn't ask where Tank lived or what they were hiding. He didn't ask about Tank's parents or family. He didn't even ask why Tank was up so early.

And then summer came, and the last week of school was fast approaching.

Gabe parked in their usual parking lot and looked at the kid in his passenger seat. How had they managed to grow two inches in just a year?

They picked at their nails nervously, not meeting his gaze. "... You don't have to tell me that this is the last ride. You could just stop picking me up," they blurted.

Gabe's heart sank, but he chuckled heartily anyway. "I was gonna see wanted to go to the boy's graduation party on friday since it's your last day."

Tank flushed in embarrassment, and Gabe clocked how they struggled to look up at him. They were trying to play it cool. His gaze softened.

"You're usually free on Fridays, aren't you?" Gabe continued.

"Um," they didn't hold eye contact for long, dropping it back to their lap. "I'll have to think about it."

His shoulders sank, but he smiled through it. "Just stop by anytime you like, okay?" Forcing this would be a betrayal of trust.

They nodded, reaching for the door. "Okay."

Fuck that, he was going to lose his chance. "Hey," Gabe said with just enough authority to make them pause. They gave him a nervous glance. "I want you to come and see what our pack is about. You don't have to stay if you don't like it, but I want you to come. I don't know what's going on, but I'm letting you know you don't have to do it alone. Okay?"

Tank stared at him with wide eyes, hand on the door latch. "... Okay."

Chapter Text

Tank stared at the Shaw house ahead, nervously fidgeting with their hoodie strings. 

The walls pulsed with music. Faces Tank didn't know roamed the yard, passing back and forth through the open front door. The smell of barbeque wafted through the air and made Tank's stomach growl. 

They focused on the smell, following it to the front door. It was open, but... Should they wait? Was it rude to just show up? Maybe they should've figured out a way to let Gabe know they were there. Tank swallowed down nausea.

Inside the house were more people, which didn't help Tank's nerves. Worse, everyone seemed to know each other already. That made Tank the odd one out.  

Should they at least take off their shoes? That was their parent's rule, not that they kept the carpet clean in the first place. But everyone was wearing their shoes here, tracking in grass and dirt from the yard, just like Tank had visited the Shaw house the first time. They wished Asher was here to walk them through this time - it hadn't been much, but he'd made a little effort to make them more comfortable. 

"There you are! Gabe's been asking me to keep an eye out for you all day!" Tank snapped their gaze towards Asher's voice. Why was he soaking wet? Asher smiled brilliantly at them, clapping a hand on their back. "He's in the back. Did you have something to change into or are you swimming in that?"

Tank couldn't get any words out, so they dumbly followed Asher into the backyard. The music got louder, and Asher shouted over it to be heard across the pool. "Gabe! They're here!"

Gabe was standing in front of the grill, wearing weathered jeans and a t-shirt like he had just gotten off work. He turned at Asher's voice and gave Tank a surprised smile. 

Tank tried to keep eye contact, but their gaze flickered to the pool.

David sat at the other end, scowling at Tank. Several other shifters their age surrounded him, giving Tank glances that said, 'Who are you, and how dare you even look in our direction?' Milo was treading the water next to David, trying to strike up a conversation. 

Asher patted Tank's shoulder absent-mindedly, still wearing that heart-fluttering smile. 

No. Not heart fluttering. Shut up, Tank. 

"I gotta show David that I'm better at cannon balls than Milo. Catch you later!" Then Asher turned his heel and sprinted towards the pool, jumping in faster than an adult could yell, "No running!" Water splattered up to Tank's knees.

Asher came out of the water and flipped his hair out of his face. He looked good in the water. Really, really good. Then again, there was a reason he could flirt with such confidence. Asher looked good in anything.

Tank had to tear their eyes away from the older boy, scolding themselves. Their gaze flickered back to Gabe, and they dragged their feet towards him. Gabe still held that same easy-going smile. 

"Little too warm for a hoodie," he said. 

Tank didn't want to tell him they had nothing else even remotely presentable. Even worn thin and fraying at the edges, their hoodie was the only thing that didn't have holes or tears (that they hadn't figured out how to fix, at least). Besides, it was their favorite hoodie - it helped them feel comfortable. That was embarrassing to admit, too. 

Gabe flipped several burgers before closing the lid, releasing a scent that made Tank's mouth water. He looked at them with crinkling eyes. "I'm glad you're here. You have any trouble getting here?"

"No," Tank mumbled.

"Good. You just let me know if you need any help getting back, okay? Our parties can go on for... a long time." Gabe's smile turned weary for a second but was gone in a blink. He chuckled. "Or you can stay the night with the boys. Asher and Milo usually do. Amanda has a guest room dedicated to her."

Tank didn't know how to answer. They shuffled nervously, searching for something to talk about. "That food smells good. What are you making?"  Stupid! Now, it sounded like all they wanted was food!

'You are here for the food,'  the back of their mind told them. 

'Shut up,'  they mentally snapped back. 

"I mean, besides the burger patties."

Gabe hummed. "Burgers, hot dogs, ribs. Lots of mouths to feed. I might need someone to go grab some more supplies." Gabe's eyebrows scrunched like he was thinking to himself now.

Tank's ears perked up. "I can go grab them."

"No, the stores a couple miles away," Gabe said absentmindedly. 

"So? I can be back in ten minutes."

Gabe snorted and gave his full attention back to Tank, eyes lit with humor. Then he realized they weren't kidding. "That's okay. I've got plenty of cars on that driveway. I'll just send someone out. Why don't you go hang out with the other kids?"

Tank wanted to argue back, tell Gabe that other kids didn't like them. Tell him that they wanted to feel useful. This place was suffocating anyway. They were there because he asked them to be, so why shouldn't they be helpful? But Gabe seemed absolutely bewildered by their offer. Maybe it was weird that they were offering in the first place. Tank internally cringed, wanting to take it back and maybe even wishing that they had never even come in the first place. Embarrassing. 

Their gaze slowly wandered towards the other kids. Asher and Milo were wrestling. Despite his height, Milo had twice the muscle and was easily overpowering Asher. That didn't seem to deter Asher - if anything, he looked more than thrilled.

Tank gave Gabe one last look that they hoped he would take pity on. ' Pleeeeeeeeeease don't make me spend time with David. I think he wants to kill me. Pool water is an awfully convenient weapon. What if you find me mysteriously drowned in the pool, face down in the water? I hear fingerprints wash off in water. I bet his buddies would cover for him. Then who would get your burger patties and hot dogs? '

That seemed too much to communicate with just a single look because Gabe was still giving Tank that lazy smile, like nothing could go wrong. Unfortunately, Tank had spent enough time at school being harrassed to know  exactly  what could go wrong. Nevertheless, they dragged their feet towards the pool.

Asher noticed them first. He separated from Milo just long enough to flash his stupid, pretty smile. "Hey! We were about to chicken fight!"

"We were?" Milo asked incredulously, seemingly bewildered at the sudden break in wrestling. 

Asher splashed Milo in the face, making him sputter. "You make an even six. Wanna play?" Asher was back to smiling at them.

Tank shuffled nervously. "I don't really swim."

"You don't know how to swim?" One of the boys asked in disbelief, like he had never heard anything so stupid. He had a weird Australian accent. Tank decided he was definitely a person to avoid.

Asher glided towards the edge, planting his elbows on the cement and staring up at Tank. Their face felt hotter than the heat radiating from Gabe's grill. "Chicken fights usually happen in the shallow end, but that's okay. We could do something else." He perked up. "There might be water guns still stored in the garage."

David rolled his eyes. "We're not playing with water guns. What are you, five?"

"Yeah," Asher said dismissively. It was like nothing bothered Asher. That made Tank feel a little jealous and a little impressed. "So, water guns?"

Tank swallowed nervously. "That's okay. You could play without me."

Asher's eyes turned dangerously sharp like he was studying Tank. They squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Then, at the drop of a pen, Asher was back to acting like his stupid, pretty self. "Okay." Then he turned towards Milo and shoved him under the water without warning. 

Tank stifled a snort when Milo came up, blinded by his hair, shouting over the music that Asher was a 'dirty filthy cheetah.' The girl across the pool from Tank, probably Amanda, straight up laughed so hard that she fell in. Milo and Asher seemed to take that as a momentary truce, teaming up to torment her. 

It took a long time for Tank to finally feel comfortable enough to sit at the pool's edge, their bare feet kicking in the cool water. 

Asher wasn't just pretty. He was charismatic. It was hard not to watch him. It was like a sunbeam raining down on him to make a spotlight. They admired it.

Then they noticed David's withering glare across the pool, watching their every move. Another look that made Tank squirm. Christian, a name Tank had linked to the Australian boy when Asher called him out, seemed to notice David's object of focus and smirked. He leaned towards David and started saying something Tank couldn't hear over the music. Amanda noticed the gossip and joined in. Then, all of the other teens surrounded David. 

Tank's face reddened. 

Across the pool from them, an entire pack of bloodthirsty teens was talking about them, in front of them, like they were stupid. And they didn't even try to hide it! Christian and Amanda, the least, looking back at Tank every 30 seconds like they were blind. Even Asher would sneak glances at Tank, nodding his head towards the group like, ' Get a load of this group of jerks. I mean, they're my friends, of course, but I was nice to you for a bit and I'm pretty, so that makes me better than them. ' Of course, adult Tank would look back on it much later and realize that Asher was trying to get them to join the group, but that hadn't dulled the sting of what they felt in the present.

Tank wanted to cry, but that would be embarrassing. Instead, they stood up and swallowed down the pain in their throat. They needed to hide. Would Gabe be mad if they left? Probably. People got mad at Tank a lot. But if they could find somewhere in the house to be alone...

Chapter Text

No harm done, right?

Tank walked through the house, pointedly avoiding groups of people and weaving between children playing. They opened several doors only to find more people, apologize, and move on; they were running out of rooms when they finally found the garage. It was so dark inside Tank almost moved on from that, too, but they found a light and stepped inside, closing the door behind them.

Both Gabe and David's trucks sat idly, side by side. Piles of boxes sat along the far wall - probably Christmas decorations or old memories. Tank wasn't one to snoop, but they hadn't met Mrs. Shaw yet, which made them curious. To their right were mostly tools - hand drills, rulers, things Tank wasn't entirely familiar with. Usually, they just hit things until they started working again.

A loud eruption of laughter bellowed behind them and Tank pressed further into the room.

The hallway Tank had walked down to get here was filled with pictures of David and Gabe (mostly fishing or camping or David in a uniform before a game), some of Milo and Asher, and a few of the whole pack like a big family picture; they figured graduation pictures would be put up soon enough. But the garage? That seemed to be where David cast away all his trophies, which was more than Tank had ever earned in their entire lifetime. School awards, sports awards, a Boy Scout medal (not that Tank knew what that would look like). That seemed to set the precedent for everything in the garage. Tank found old baseball mitts, a tattered and worn football, and even the water guns Asher had mentioned (though they were covered in cobwebs, and Tank wondered if the boys really had been five the last time they played with them). A garage full of old memories Tank never got to make as a kid - ones that David seemed to have thrown away at the drop of a hat to make room for more. A bitter taste of envy poisoned Tank, burning their throat on the way down.

The door to the garage creaked open and Tank panicked, scrambling around Gabe's truck bed to hide. It was stupid to think they would get in trouble for being there, but... Well, Tank didn't really know. Maybe the garage was off-limits. They hadn't really bothered to ask anyone, and that seemed exactly like the type of trouble Tank would blindly stumble into. Trouble seemed to find them wherever they went no matter what they did. They'd always chalked it up to bad luck.

A loud sigh echoed through the room, making Tank cringe. Footsteps scuffed towards them lazily. They could hear the scratch of hands running through short hair. Deep breaths. Tank leaned over just a little, sparing a look at the other person in the room.

Gabe stood a few feet from the door, rubbing the back of his tanned neck. Tank swallowed thickly.

He looked... older. And maybe that was just the dim lighting, but Tank didn't think so. The wrinkles in Gabe's face had turned into hard-etched lines, his eyes were darker, and his shoulders were sagged in exhaustion. Tank hadn't realized before that they'd never seen Gabe so tired, but they did now, and they realized that David really did look like his dad. Gabe was intimidating when he wasn't making an effort to be friendly.

For a long time, neither of them moved. Tank was frozen in place and Gabe seemed to be working at a knot in his shoulder. Then Gabe heaved another great sigh and looked around the room. His attention stopped roaming when he made eye contact with Tank.

Tank felt their whole face go red again. They hated that.

They stood bashfully, finding a rock in Gabe's truck tire far more interesting. "I was... looking for the water guns," Tank mumbled. They knew it didn't sound convincing, and Gabe wasn't dumb, either.

He didn't acknowledge that, though. Tank was grateful for it till the mountain of a man sat down with an old man's groan. Gabe was still rubbing the back of his neck.

"... I noticed the trophies. Those are cool."

Gabe hummed, chuckling. "Yeah?"

Tank nodded.

Another beat of silence.

"Why are you in here?" Tank tried to change the subject. Gabe didn't acknowledge that either - they were beginning to think he was either more oblivious than he looked or incredibly patient and forgiving.

He sighed again - the type of sigh you make after paying taxes for 20 years. Tank felt a sheepish urge to make themselves smaller. Had that sounded rude? It wasn't like they owned the garage. This wasn't their space to be defensive.

"-loud," Tank caught the back end of as Gabe ended his statement with a fond little chuckle.

"Huh?"

He looked at them with soft eyes. "I love my pack," he laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck, "but two dozen people is a lot to feed."

Tank looked down at their shoes.

"You must be really proud of him," they murmured, venom rising back up like bile in their throat at the sudden lack of topic. They didn't want to hate David based on jealousy alone - but damn it if he didn't make it easy.

"David?" Gabe said. Then, without letting Tank clarify, "Yeah. He's a good kid. Stubborn as hell though." Then he laughed.

Tank could think of more descriptors than 'stubborn', and they hated themselves for it. It wasn't fair that he got this life and a bunch of friends who liked him - what had he done to deserve it? "Stubborn?" they said softly, knowing better than to prod at gossip when trying to make a good impression but doing it nonetheless.

"Stubborn." Gabe gave Tank a knowing look. "Reminds me of someone."

Their face flushed. Again. Damn.

"I'm not stubborn."

Gabe hummed a reply, and they weren't sure how to take it. Then he was standing up and walking to a pile of boxes - Tank followed. "You ever played catch before, Kid?" Gabe asked. He was grabbing one of the old mitts out.

"No. You and David did?" Another embarrassing question that struck a pang of jealousy.

"Yeah... till he started playing football almost exclusively." Gabe rolled the mitt around in his hand for a moment, filling the room with the sound of old leather on rough skin. Then he turned just enough to offer it to Tank. "Bet it's your size."

"Huh? Oh, no, no. That's okay." This was weird, right? Were they overstepping some sort of boundary? David would kill them if he found out his dad was being nice, wouldn't he? The last thing they wanted was for David to hate them even more.

"Why not?" Gabe said.

Tank stared down at the mitt in nervous bewilderment. "You're sure?"

Gabe was back to looking down at the glove, like some type of familiar relic. Tank felt more guilty. "I haven't played catch in a while," he said softly, "I could use a partner." He held it out further for them to take.

"I don't know how to play catch," they swallowed nervously.

"I wouldn't mind teaching you." How were they supposed to navigate this? When had an adult ever asked for something so... simple? So childish? Why did it make Tank want to bubble with laughter, throw up and cry all at the same time? "Is that okay with you?"

A beat of hesitation.

A deep breath, a thick swallow.

"Yeah. That sounds cool. If-If you're okay with it, I'd... I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Tank stared into the wintry forest, their breath rising like a will-o'-the-wisp. It called them forward in a silent siren song. With the solstice moon lighting up the world, even the biting ice of jackfrost struggled to penetrate their skin. Hot blood pumped over tensed muscles, roaring in their ears.

They'd settled themselves on the outskirts of the Shaw Pack, too nervous to butt into a conversation they weren't explicitly invited to. David had surrounded himself with all of the younger pack members, including Asher, and had made it crystal clear that Tank was welcome to stay precisely where they were standing. Gabe was mingling himself with the remaining pack members.

Tank feared that Gabe might have forgotten they were there. It was already nerve-wracking enough to be out in the woods with David at night.

Then Gabe cleared his throat, and the pack immediately quieted. "My family, my pack," he began, "tonight, we celebrate the night when the moon most closely binds us together. It's an honor to be here with you all."

Frank, who Tank had learned over three months was pack Beta and Asher's father, let out an unsolicited hoot of approval. Asher followed suit. Gabe flashed them an amused grin.

"We've all had our own struggles and triumphs that've led us to this moment we're sharing. This pack was built on the foundation of shifters who lost their way on their journey through life."

A man who looked suspiciously like Milo raised a mug into the cold night. Tank didn't miss Milo wince at the gesture.

"What makes our pack strong comes from the strength we draw from each other. It's the bond we share, the trust we build, and the understanding that no one stands alone."

Gabe's gaze shifted to Tank, his expression softening. "I know better than anyone that it takes time to build trust and feel truly at home. But I want you all to know that if you're here, you are already a part of this family. We are stronger with you here, and tonight, as we hunt together, I hope you'll feel the bond that unites us all."

Then he shifted his gaze back to the pack in total. Tank was grateful - they didn't want anyone to notice them. "Let's show our newest member what it means to be a member of the Shaw Pack."

The pack responded with a collective uproar that diverted into playful howls that echoed through the forest. Tank felt a warmth spreading through them as they followed after the pack to the edge of the woods. They almost didn't even acknowledge the several dirty looks Chris and David had sent their way. Almost.

They kept their distance, shifting at the edge of their group. The world changed around them until they could see with their ears and nose. Cold, crisp night air opened up their lungs and pumped them full of energy. Gabe's voice whispered in their mind over the droning of several quieter voices.

The plan was supposed to be straightforward: herd the buck toward a specific location to corner it and leave the attack to Gabe and Frank so no one would be at risk of getting hurt.

Then Tank noticed Christian slipping away from the pack.

No one else seemed to notice, and Tank felt their sprint slow to a jog. They followed Chris with a bowed head, stepping lightly in the pearlescent snow. Wherever the older boy was heading, he didn't seem overly concerned with being followed.

Tank didn't realize what was happening until they spotted the deer; by then, it was too late. Christian was lurching from the undergrowth and snarling at the deer, long before the rest of the pack had arrived to help. The buck reared onto its hind legs, cloven hooves kicking wildly before lowering its head in a defensive position.

Their body moved on its own, shoving Christian out of the way as the stag charged forward. Then the world fell from under them as Tank lost their footing and rolled, narrowly avoiding the stag's hooves. It trudged off through the ice, leaving Tank and Chris in silence.

After a moment, Gabe's voice echoed in Tank's head. "Don't move. We're on our way to find you."

Tank didn't answer, their vision swimming. They shifted back into their human form to ease the dizziness.

Christian quickly followed suit, bright red and glaring at Tank with venom. "I had that under control," he hissed.

"That thing almost ran you over," Tank said in disbelief.

He only sneered in response. "You were just in the way."

Tank's hands balled into fists by their sides. By the time the rest of the pack arrived, the stag was long gone. All that was left to do was for Milo's mom, Marie, to look Tank and Christian over.

"What happened?" Gabe asked, panting into the cold night air. He looked between the two of them with furrowed brows.

"They left the trail," Chris declared before Tank could even muster the words to speak. They snapped their mouth shut to keep from growling deep in their throat. "Almost got us both killed under the stag's hooves."

Even if Tank could come up with the words to defend themselves, the shifters around them seemed to have already bought into Christian's story. They clenched their teeth and looked at Gabe desperately.

"Maybe you should stick to you know best," Chris mumbled. "Some places are just harder to leave behind."

Was he talking about-

Before Tank could think too much about it, their fist socked into Chris' jaw like a sack of rocks. Then they were straddling him on the ground, planting more knuckles into his skin.

Gabe hooked his arms beneath theirs and dragged them backward while Frank pulled Christian to his feet.

"Say that shit again!" Tank shouted. They didn't care who was watching now. The rest of the pack never liked them anyway. Gabe's grip only tightened as they struggled to reach Christian. "I'll rearrange your face you fuckin' aussie !"

"Gabe!" another australian accent, older than Chris's, cut over Tanks. He must've been his father or something. He looked... incredulous. Tank knew exactly what he was preparing to say long before it left his mouth. They'd seen that expression before.

"I'll take them home," Gabe said amicably before Chris's dad could continue. "Marie, I'd appreciate if you looked at that. Frank and David will take over for me."

No one argued - didn't have the time - as Gabe hauled Tank away. His grip on their arm was almost too tight as they trudged through the trees. As soon as the pack was out of sight, Gabe let go.

Tank's face was hot with rage and eyes wet with unshed tears. They weren't even sure if Gabe cared to hear their side of the story, but they needed him, of all people, to know the truth anyway. "I didn't mean-"

Gabe moved sharply, cutting them off with the opening of his truck door. They resisted the urge to flinch, gripping the end of their sleeve.

This was it. They'd pushed their luck, and now Gabe hated them. Now, all that was left was to be dropped off exactly where Gabe had picked them up - far from home.

Except when Tank finally accepted their fate, numbly sitting in the truck shotgun seat, Gabe didn't retrace the steps he had taken to get to the park.

Instead, Gabe pulled into an old diner still lit up with a flickering old sign.

Chapter Text

Ivy's Diner sat atop a sloping hill overlooking Dahlia in all of its twinkling glory. Though the parking lot wasn't particularly full, Tank could see the silhouettes of people inside and hear the peaceful chatter and old jukebox music. Gabe parked his truck at the edge of the lot in front of a wooden barrier to overlook Dahlia's downtown.

The stillness had only lasted for a moment or two before Gabe shut off the engine and stepped out of the truck. Tank watched as he sat down on the wooden barrier ahead.

When he didn't move, and Tank couldn't bear sitting by themselves in the silence with aching knuckles, they finally followed him out of the truck. They didn't join him at the edge of the lot. "Why're we here?" they mumbled. They weren't entirely sure they cared whether their voice shook or not at this point.
Gabe didn't look at them, his gaze sweeping over the world below like a father paying special attention to his kid on the playground. "I come here to clear my head when I've got the time. Thought you could use it tonight."

Oh, this was like detention. 'Sit in silence and think about what you did.' Tank's chest tightened, stomach roiling. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit Chris." 'I shouldn't have even come.' "I get it if you don't want me coming back around."

"You made a mistake," Gabe said, "that doesn't define you as a person."

What happens when all you do is make mistakes?

Gabe waited a moment for Tank's response. When they didn't offer any, he sighed softly, leaning his back against his truck. There it was again, that ancient exhaustion he hid away from the rest of the pack. "Do you know why I founded this pack?"

"You're just as type A as David but better at hiding it?"

Gabe chuckled. "That's part of it, sure." A moment to reassemble his thoughts. "But I was lonely - didn't fit in with my old pack."

"So I packed light and ran as far as I could. Bounced around so many different places that by the time I was 25 I was broke and stuck in Dahlia and still angry. Angry that my pack had let me leave, angry that they never tried to make me wanna stay, angry that in all those years I was hoppin' town to town not a single person tried to reach out to me. Angry at myself that I didn't know how to reach out."

Tank fiddled with the strings of their hoodie, watching Gabe closely. Every instinct in Tank's body screamed to run far away, to back out, to bite. This attention wasn't safe. This conversation was a snare set up in the forest to catch them while their guard was down. But how could they leave him so vulnerable when he had offered up his own throat first?

"Then, while I was stuck in Dahlia with nowhere else to go, I realized I wasn't the only one like me." He snorted at a memory. "I realized I wasn't the only person in traffic pressing down on my horn so I could get where I wanted to go."

"So I finally decided to park it and build a place where I belonged - where others could belong. Forced my best friend to be my beta, bought a home with my mate, made a company..." He looked back at Tank with a soft smile. "I've thrown a few punches myself in my time."

Their legs hurt from the effort it took to keep their feet rooted to the ground. If they ran now, they might never stop. If this didn't feel safe, what would?

"There's this endless, gnawing silence," Tank wheezed out. "I'm alone, in the woods, and the trees can't judge me but they don't care either."

Gabe didn't break eye contact so Tank had to before they could lose their nerve. They clenched their fists so hard that their knuckles turned white, little crescent moons forming in the skin of their palms. There was no backing out now.

"I can't go home 'cause I'm just another problem, another mouth to feed. It didn't matter how long I was out or if I came back with bruises because that was just white noise to my parents. I had to learn to fend for myself - fight for myself -  because I realized no one would do it for me. It was easier to keep my head down, to not make waves. Better to be invisible than to be seen and judged. I was the weird kid from the wrong side of town, but at least I wasn't a target."

Something cold and wet slipped down their face in one fluid motion. 

"I thought if I kept everyone out, I wouldn't get hurt. But the walls just made the silence louder."

More tears started rolling. It hurt to speak past the lump in their throat.

"I'm still so damn scared of letting anyone in, of being seen. I'm scared that if I open up, if I let my guard down, I'll just end up hurt and alone again. But I'm so tired of being alone."

Gabe's calloused hands pulled Tank into a bear hug. Strong, firm, soft, warm. Tank let out a sob into his chest, their chest aching but finally able to inhale.

"You're not alone," Gabe whispered down at them, rubbing their back. "You're not alone anymore."

Tank nodded, sniffing past the snot and tears. They clutched fistfuls of Gabe's shirt with aching knuckles. The pain felt so good. So relieving. 

"You aren't alone," Gabe said again.

And for once, Tank heard it. Felt it. They smiled into their sobbing, laughed even. Gabe didn't let go until their breathing had steadied and their head was heavy with exhaustion. They didn't move until Tank's stomach let out a loud, long complaint of hunger.

Gabe chuckled despite the redness of Tank's face. "You know, the blueberry pie here is amazing."

Tank laughed and sniffed, wiping their face with the sleeve of their hoodie. "That sounds good. Really good. Thanks."

And without another word, Gabe put a comforting hand on Tank's shoulder and led them into the warmth of Ivy's diner for their new favorite dessert.

Chapter Text

Tank stared at Gabe's porch with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes—one of their signature I-know-this-is-a-trap looks. They were seated in Gabe's passenger seat, Gabe chuckling on the phone with his hand on the wheel. He'd picked up a call as they pulled into the driveway and parked.

Asher was making unflinchingly direct eye contact with Tank through the windshield, smiling and waving like he didn't have a care in the world. Maybe people made of sunshine didn't. Tank didn't know what that was like.

They waited a while, a long while, for Gabe to get off the phone so they wouldn't have to get out by themselves. That was an ambush waiting to happen and they knew it. But Gabe didn't get off the phone and instead waved Tank out.

Oh... He'd planned this.

Fuck.

Tank unbuckled slowly, unlatching the car door tentatively and then hesitantly stepping onto the smooth concrete of Gabe's front entrance.

Asher looked good, really good. He'd be, what, 20 now? A pretty college boy with a killer smile and hair - and a body - fit for the beach...

Tank set their jaw, shutting the car door quietly and staring Asher down. They wished he'd squirm, buckle beneath their withering gaze. Nobody could be perfect all the time.

"Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Ash said with that oddly charming rasp in his voice.

"I asked you first."

Ash leaned against a pillar with such casual coolness that Tank wanted to lie down behind Gabe's truck and wait till he put it in reverse. "Can't a guy just show up at his best friends dad's house without a reason? I mean, Gabe's practically my dad too !"

"Sure," Tank snapped. "But you're waiting outside. Why?"

Ash's bravado slumped slightly at Tank's bite. "He asked me for a favor."

Tank didn't blink, urging him to continue with a steely gaze, but then Gabe opened his truck door and stepped out with unabashed confidence. He tossed Ash the keys. "All yours!"

Asher caught them with ease and they switched places without missing a beat. Tank resisted the urge to look between the two like a lost puppy. Asher quickly caught on anyway, giving them that stupid sunny smile. "You coming?"

Tank glared and then looked at Gabe. They didn't know if they were asking for an explanation or permission.

"Will you help Ash run some errands? I got some things to do around the house."

A tight knot coiled in Tank's belly at the thought of being alone with Asher. He was hotter than some of the movie stars on magazine covers - and he knew it too - but he was also David's best friend. That made an incredibly dangerous combination. They looked back at Asher, the knot tightening as his grin widened.

Tank decided they didn't mind a little danger.

Tank climbed back in, desperately trying to not look too desperate, and waved goodbye to Gabe. Asher spent a full minute connecting his phone to the stereo, then turned the volume to its max output. Fall Out Boy was blasting through the speakers before Asher ever put the truck in reverse, and then they were on their way to get...

... Haircuts.

Tank stared at the barber shop with a frown so deep they'd look like a shriveled-up raisin the moment they relaxed. At first, they had really, really wished they knew more lyrics to any of the songs Asher had played from the album which had apparently only just come out after a four-year hiatus from the band. Now they were just really, really confused. They opened their mouth to ask what the fuck they were doing in front of a salon but Asher put a hand up to stop them before belting out the last lyrics of "Death Valley" and letting the music fade into quiet. Only then did Asher deign to shut off the truck's rumbling engine.

"Gabe's letting me borrow his truck since mine's in the shop. I'm picking up a few things for him before we go back."

Tank's furrowed brows scrunched in tighter, mirroring Asher as he unbuckled and stepped out of the truck. "Why's your car in the shop?"

"My battery died," he stated casually, sauntering towards the small business. Tank followed after. How did he make everything seem so effortless?

Asher opened the door for Tank as they reached the threshold and followed in behind them. Cool air whipped them in the face just as the sound of relaxed chatter buzzed reached their ears.

When was the last time they'd gotten their hair cut?

Realization struck them like sour milk and twisted their face just the same. "' Comb Over Here '?"

Asher snickered in response. "I like to chop it while it's hot."

A grunt from the younger wolf.

"Hair today, gone tomorrow. A cut above the rest, if you will."

An eye roll.

"The hairway to heaven."

Tank used their elbow to shove Asher a couple feet away, biting back a giddy smile in favor of the annoyed scowl they wore. Asher, for all his loud battery-killing music and terrible puns, was easy to be around. Not without effort, either, Tank realized. Because if Asher had to deal with them and David, he had to be the nicest, most patient person in the world. That old knot came back to wrap around Tank's throat like a vice, choking them with guilt. It was hard to imagine anyone putting up with their bullshit, let alone for this long. It didn't feel real.

"Tank?"

They blinked, realizing that Asher and the cashier were both staring at them, and then swallowed thickly. "Uh-um, what?"

"Did you want anything done? I've got some points here so I can get one free," Asher supplied. Again, with that unwavering patience. Again, with that unwavering guilt and anxiety.

They didn't know what to say. Not really. Was it rude to say no? Was it rude to say yes? Were they blind to how bad their hair had gotten? Did they need a haircut so badly that Ash had taken it upon himself to take them here? If that was the case, how many other people had seen their hair and said nothing?

"Tank?" Ash said again.

They couldn't inhale deep enough. How embarrassing. How utterly, terribly embarrassing. Their face was burning. "Is that okay?" was all they could manage through the lump in their throat.

Ash nodded slowly, turning back to the cashier and smiling as she put their names into the system. Then he put a gentle hand on Tank's arm, leading them back outside.

Tank choked down a whimper.

"What's wrong?" Ash asked softly.

They couldn't cry in public. They wouldn't.

Asher waited a moment for Tank to speak. When he realized they wouldn't, he brought them to the truck and unlocked it for them. They climbed in without a word. He followed.

Fuck, he followed.

Ever since that night with Gabe, tears had come so easily, so fast. Crying in front of Gabe was scary enough. They didn't want to cry in front of Asher. He'd laugh. He'd tell everyone. He'd tell David .

Asher put a hand on Tank's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to." And they didn't. They couldn't stand to look so weak and vulnerable in front of someone who didn't even know what embarrassment was.

Tank sniffed, pulling away to wipe their face with their sleeve. Asher didn't fight it.

"Do you just want to wait out here? I can cancel the appointment."

Tank shook their head defiantly. That would be admitting defeat. And if their hair really did look bad...

Asher nodded slowly. "Okay."

And then he waited in the long moment that followed. Tank sniffed several times through a running nose, swallowing down any other noises and blinking away tears. The heat in their face only faded, never going away completely. But soon enough, they were ready to go back inside, and they opened the truck door without another word.

Asher followed quietly, contemplatively.

One of the salon ladies sat Tank down before Asher. All they could manage to ask for was a trim—something easy and short, something that would maybe get out some of the knots. Then she sprayed them down with a misting bottle and got to work. When she was done, Tank silently left the building and sat in Gabe's passenger seat.

It was stupid, really, to let Asher's opinion get under their skin so bad. Who cared what he thought? Why should they care what anyone thought? Better to say it to their face if it was so important.

Then again, they'd made a perfect example of Chris when he'd rubbed them the wrong way.

And what could they say? People should mind their business. No one had any right to meddle in their life.

But Gabe had. And their life was so much better for it.

Just as the tightly wound muscles in their body had begun to soften and relax, Asher opened the door so suddenly that Tank nearly jumped out of their skin. They almost snarled at the older boy. Almost.

But oh, how pretty he was. His hair was styled into perfect beach waves, framing his face like... Well, Tank wasn't exactly a poet, but Asher would make a perfect muse. He knew exactly what made him handsome and exactly what to do to enhance those features.

Tank had never envied someone's sense of style before and had certainly never felt the need to ask for advice. Not until now. "You look, um," they swallowed thickly, clenching their fists, "better."

"I know," Asher said smugly, sidling behind the wheel. "You look good too."

Tank wanted to curl up and die right there.

It was annoying how easily Asher could make them nervous, good or bad. No one man should have that much power over anyone. Tank felt like a wild animal, Asher a strange human offering them food from his palm with a hand behind his back. Sometimes, they wished they had been a telepath rather than a shifter if only to know what he really wanted.

But sometimes, just like the moment when Ash turned the ignition and "The Phoenix" blew through the speakers louder than a stadium, Tank was glad that they had turned out to be a wolf.

Glad that someone had left food out for them, patiently waited for them to sniff his palm. Glad that he hadn't tried to put a leash on them.

Tank didn't mind a little danger - had grown used to the knot of anxiety that liked to coil in their stomach and noose itself around their throat. But, for just this moment, being a wild animal didn't feel dangerous. They were wild like they were running with a pack.

Chapter Text

Tank and Ash had spent the next several hours jumping around town doing errands. They'd gone by the local grocery store for off-brand snacks; they'd picked up some prescription medicine for arthritis; they'd picked up mail from the post office. By the time they were pulling into the driveway, Tank was nearly nodding off to the steady rocking of the truck.

That didn't stop them from noticing David's truck parked along the curb. Tank stiffened, suddenly on high alert.

Ash looked at them appraisingly while he put the truck in park. "You don't like David." It wasn't a question.

Tank shrugged sheepishly. They didn't like David, and David didn't like them, but they should have at least pretended for Ash's sake. "I never said that..."

"You don't have to lie - you're actually kind of bad at it," Ash snickered. Tank flushed red. "Is it because he's got a resting bitch face? Because I totally get it. Sometimes he looks like he wants to strangle me."

"That's not- I mean, kind of. He's just..." How was it possible not to dislike David? David threw away trophies like they meant nothing. Tank had never gotten a trophy in their life. Not even a participation award. They knew that Ash would wait for hours till they finished their sentence. "He's just kind of a dick."

Ash laughed. "Yeah." A beat of hesitance. "He's also a really good friend, too."

Tank resisted the urge to snark 'he started it.' David had never given them a chance. He'd made it entirely clear that the only reason their presence was even tolerated was by Gabe's good graces. He was older than them and taller - why should they have to be the bigger person? Thankfully, Asher was unbuckling and stepping out of the truck before Tank could say any of this out loud.

The thought occurred to them that this would be a perfect opportunity to make a run for it. They could avoid David altogether and prevent whatever fight building up between them at the source. Instead, Tank sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, following Asher into the Shaw house.

Gabe and David were in the kitchen when Tank and Ash walked in. They quieted upon their arrival, and Tank watched David's eyes darken. Gabe smiled warmly. "Hey, how was traffic?"

Ash shrugged, easily sliding into a seat beside David. "The usual."

"Obnoxious?" David supplied, voice low and gravelly. "How many idiots were on the road today?"

Gabe snorted. "Davey almost got T-boned on his way here."

"He was swerving like a drunken idiot," David snarled. As much as Tank disliked David, they didn't like to picture what could've happened. They walked towards the fridge, feeling David's eyes catch and linger on them. "Get me a water?" he asked.

"Ooh and I'll take a juice box!"

Tank started rifling through the fridge, conscious of their actions but glad to have something to do with their hands. "Is Milo here too?" they asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"He's working a shift," David said.

Tank turned - almost threw the water bottle and juice to their respective targets before they thought better of it - and instead set them gently in front of Asher. They popped open an energy drink for themselves, taking a liberal gulp before leaning against the wall.

Gabe sighed. "Those aren't good for you."

Neither was the alcohol. They didn't say that, though. "I don't drink them all the time." That was a lie but white lies didn't hurt anybody.

David rolled his eyes. "You could try a water every once in a while."

"Are you gonna tell me to eat my vegetables next?" A thrill of excitement shot through Tank's body. That was the first good response they'd had in a while.

"It wouldn't kill you."

"Neither would minding your business."

David scowled now. "You might be willing to run yourself into the dirt but you don't get to project onto me."

"Run my-?" Tank scoffed. "Do you think drinking some water will earn me a gold star? Is that all it takes to get a pat on the head?"

"What is your problem? " David snarled, slamming his bottle onto the table.

"You!" Tank stepped forward, ignoring Gabe as he opened his mouth to speak. "You act like you're better than everyone just 'cause you follow all the rules and kiss all the right asses-"

"As opposed to what? Sleeping all the time? Fighting? Acting helpless like you ?"

Tank's chest tightened like they'd been stabbed. "I'm trying-"

"Are you? Because all I ever see is you butting yourself into our lives and then treating us like rotten meat."

"That's enough-" Gabe started.

"All I ever see is some perfect little golden boy who's had everything handed to him since the day he was born, acting like the rest of us are failures for not having the same options!"

David bawked. " Handed to me? You think everything I have just fell into my lap ?"

“Yeah, actually, I do! Because no matter what you do, people love you. No one ever questions you. No one ever assumes the worst of you. Meanwhile, I breathe wrong and suddenly I’m some screw-up who’s never gonna amount to anything.”

"Maybe if you didn't act like one, people wouldn't think that."

Tank barked a laugh, too hyped up on adrenaline to feel the hurt anymore. "There it is."

"I said that's enough!" Gabe said. It wasn't a shout, but the order came loud and firm enough that Tank had to fight not to flinch. Asher sunk down into his seat. "I've got a garden out back that needs tending to, and it looks like I've just found two punks who have nothing better to do with their time than argue about a fucking monster. So I've got a better idea - you're both gonna work this out. Together . Starting tomorrow. Understood?"

David turned a bright red.

"I said , is that understood?"

Tank ducked their head, nodding.

"Good. I'll see you both at 7 in the morning."