Summary: After Shane is robbed, he struggles to recover, with his own identity, and to let people in. Set after 1.06, so Shane and Ilya are fully together.
Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be one-shot, but I'm often overwhelmed by details, so now we have a four-chapter, indulgent fic. However, it is complete and I will be updating it pretty regularly. This story is very Shane heavy, but it includes The Hollanders, The Metros, and of course, Ilya!
Violence was a regular occurrence in Shane Hollander’s life. As a professional hockey player, it was an accepted and even encouraged part of the game. With more than nine seasons under his belt, he’d witnessed and endured his fair share of injuries. Blades slicing through jersey, pads, and flesh, barely missing major arteries, the milky ivory of a radius breaching the skin, dislocations so often he could pop certain joints back in place with the detached expertise of an orthopedist.
Despite it all, the random savagery of being attacked off the ice left him utterly stunned.
He’d gotten a call from the Department about an incident with one of his pack. He’d rolled his eyes at first and nodded, waiting for another report about some conflict Darlin or Chrissy had gotten into. It wasn’t that the others weren’t possibilities, it was just that Milo would have told him before the Department and Asher was out of town.
But then they dropped a name he’d never heard the Department mention to him before, not since he confirmed them being in his pack. His heart squeezed in his chest. Mugged? What the fuck did they mean mugged?
“Where are they?” He was already out the door, keys in hand.
“What?”
“Where?”
“Oh, um. It looks like they checked themself out of the hospital after making a statement to the unempowered authorities… It doesn’t look like they broke covert although the report does suggest the assailant was empowered…”
David felt sick, teeth too long and hand shaking around his keys. It was too much information at once, all tossed out carelessly by this desk clerk on the phone like none of it even mattered. Hospital. They had been taken to the hospital? What the fuck had happened? And who had mugged them? And why, in the hell, did this asshole think David gave any fucks about covert?
“How injured were they?” he interrupted. They’d been taken to a hospital, but they seem to have left on their own. David wanted to find comfort in that detail but he couldn’t, because he knew for a fact that Babe could and would push through pain and illness. They would sooner walk home with a broken leg than ask someone for help and risk being a burden.
Fuck! Now he was worried they were walking around on a broken leg.
“Um… It looks like they were treated for some cuts and scrapes. There’s a note about a possible concussion but the doctor didn’t seem overly worried.” And the empowered clerk on the phone didn’t sound worried either.
“Cuts?”
“And scrapes.”
David ground his teeth. “What makes you say the assailant was probably empowered?”
“Oh. There’s a note about them being bitten. They kept their story pretty vague though,” he sounded pleased and then huffed a smile. “The unempowered doctors gave them antibiotics in case of an infection.”
David hung up. He had to. If he didn’t, he would somehow kill this person through the phone. He immediately dialed another number, sliding into the driver’s seat of his truck. He put the phone on the dash and started the engine. It didn’t take Milo long to answer. “Boss?”
David hesitated just when he was about to speak. Babe was pack but they were human and they were so private.
“David?” Milo was louder, closer to his phone and focused with concern.
“I’m going to need your help, but I need you and Stealth to keep it quite.” It never even occurred to him to ask Milo to keep anything from his partner.
“There was an incident with Babe. I’m headed to their apartment now. I need you to find out everything you can from the department.” He took a turn and pulled into an alley beside their building, not caring if he was in a loading zone.
“Yeah. On it. Are they okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said without thinking and froze just as he was getting out of his truck.
He didn’t know.
His instincts raged, his wolf rolling under his skin. He didn’t know. A member of his pack—the most important person in the world to his best friend—and he had no idea.
“I’ll get back to you.” He hung up and used Asher’s spare key to get into the building. He couldn’t wait for the lift, taking the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t until he was in the hall that he knew something was wrong, something other than everything else wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it until he was at their apartment door.
He knocked, but already his stomach was twisting because his senses told him they weren’t there. Not only was their apartment empty, but their scent was so faint in the hallway that he knew they hadn’t been there in hours, probably not since they left for work that morning, definitely not with any cuts.
Cuts.
Bites.
His skin crawled and he wanted to growl and whine at the same time. He needed to see them. He needed to know how bad this was and do everything he could to fix it.
He scrolled his phone numbers and tried to call them. It went immediately to voicemail.
“Fuck,” he pushed the heel of his palm against his temple. Did they even have their phone? Where would they be?
He could have the pack find them. If they fanned out, they’d have them in no time. But then he would be making this moment, this day—their day—pack public. And he didn’t know yet if that was okay with them.
Asher hadn’t called him yet. Which meant, either they were on the phone with him right now, or he didn’t know yet.
David needed eyes on Babe. He needed to be able to tell Asher he was looking at them and that they were okay, or he would lose his mind.
He tried to think up places Babe would go on his way down the stairs.
Where would he go if he was unempowered and recently attacked by a vampire? They’d called it a mugging. Had the biter really robbed them? He flipped his keys against his palm but stopped one step toward his car. The hospital wasn’t far from here. Even on foot, even slowed by injury, they would have been there by now. So, if they didn’t go home, where did they go?
He called Angel to ask if Babe had come to their place. No. Angel had questions, but David promised to explain soon and they promised to call if they heard from Babe until then.
His phone rang almost as soon as he hung up.
Milo.
David answered.
“Are they okay?”
“I don’t know,” he ground out again. “They aren’t at their apartment.”
“What?”
David looked up and down the street. It was getting dark. “Was their phone stolen?”
“No. It was broken. They were on their way home from work, just got off the subway—”
David pivoted, looking in the direction of their stop.
“In their statement to the cops, they called their attacker a biter at first—said he cornered them before they could get out of the underground station and took their jacket and their bag. They didn’t have any money or cards on them so they must have left the hospital on foot. They can’t have gotten far.”
“Did they have their keys?” David started walking toward the subway station.
Milo was moving on his side too. “It didn’t sound like it.”
If David was in Babe’s shoes, he would just want to go home. He would want to be in his own space with the door locked. But if they didn’t have their keys, they couldn’t get home. They could, of course, call him. He had the spare. But he wasn’t sure they would even if they had their phone.
He descended the steps into the subway.
“I can start at the hospital and track them.”
“Are you at the hospital now?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Good.” David hung up just as the call would have cut out anyway. The air was colder underground, the lights yellow and the hallways echoing with the hum of a passing train. The afterwork crowd had thinned out and it wasn’t quite late enough for the party crowds.
He hopped the entrance and shivered when he inhaled their scent.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain how relieved he felt when he saw them standing there on the platform. They looked awful. Their pants were dirty and their shirt bloodstained and torn. He’d never seen them even mussed let alone a complete mess before. One hand clutched at the bandage around their wrist, squeezing as they frowned and stared, seeming to scrutinize the tracks.
For one horrific second he thought they were going to jump. They kept cutting glances up and down the tracks and shifting their weight where they stood at the edge.
“Babe.”
They jumped and spun around too fast.
He closed the distance and caught their hands in both of his to tug them that one step forward, away from the edge.
They stared up at him, one eye blood-red where it should be white and their cheekbone bruised in dark purple clouds. Their jaw was scraped up like they’d landed on the ground, matching their scabbed palms in his hands. “What are you doing?” David asked, trying so hard to keep his voice low and soft—trying not to growl or yell because of the fear that had built in his chest from the moment he heard their name on that call.
“Oh,” they exhaled and their shoulders dropped. They looked down at themself and flushed. “Sorry. It’s been a bad night. I was mugged but it’s fine.”
They didn’t know he knew about that. “It doesn’t look fine.”
They turned toward the tracks again. “I kicked my keys when he went for them and they went down there… If he got my keys he could be at my place and if he didn’t, well, I need them.” Their voice was tinny, carefully logical but fragile in that desperation.
David nodded, still holding onto their hands and very gently drawing them another step away from the tracks. “I’ll look.”
Babe exhaled hard and shook their head, wincing at a pain in their body and stopping short in the gesture. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find them. You’ve probably got someplace to be.”
David stared at them. Was it shock or did they really think he was just passing by? He folded their hands inside of his. This was the first time he’d ever touched Babe. Pack was very physical but David had never been good at building those relationships. With other wolves, it was easier. It was simpler. With the non-shifters in the pack, it had always been so much harder. He knew now that he’d made a mistake when he thought that was okay—that he didn’t need to build on those bonds as well. Babe was looking at him like a work associate being nice to them on a rough day. It was polite but unexpected and certainly unnecessary. They expected nothing from him.
“I don’t have anywhere to be. I came here looking for you,” he said, their hand spasming in his.
They looked down at their joined hands for the first time, as if just now registering the contact. And then their eyes widened and their face shot up to seek his gaze again. Their words rushed out of them. “I didn’t break covert.”
It was a gut punch.
They pulled their hands out of his and took a step back, chin pressing high as they tried to stand taller. “I would have let you know after… After I got home. I just…” They looked over their shoulder at the tracks and their lost keys again, frowning.
David nodded. First problem first. He could do that.
He stepped around them and up to the edge of the platform, eyeing the shadows until he spotted the bundle of keys on a ring. He jumped down.
“Be careful!” Babe rushed to the edge.
David could hear the trains and knew exactly how long he had. He snagged the keys, pocketed them, and jumped back up onto the platform. He was just turning them toward the exit when Milo came down the steps, slowing and stopping at the sight of them.
“Hey,” he said to Babe, gaze flicking over the state of them.
David heard the way the other wolf’s pulse quickened, the edges of rage tucked behind his teeth.
Babe sighed, shoulders drooping as they started up the stairs. “I guess this is a thing now.”
Milo frowned and turned to follow them. “How was this not going to be?”
David shot him a warning look but Babe didn’t wither under the badgering tone. They sighed again, a little groan of annoyance now. They were slow on the steps but neither shifter was going to rush them.
“I mean, I figured I could go home and clean up before it had to be public knowledge that I got mugged. Asher is going to be—” They stopped and swung around.
Both shifters stopped, arms out to stabilize them if they were falling over.
“Does he know? He’s going to panic and think I died.”
David blinked at the rush of words. He shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.” He really just wanted to see them—to be able to tell his best friend that they were in one piece and breathing.
Babe sagged in relief, nodding, almost slumping into the railing with the weight of it. “Good. Good. Just, let me clean up and I’ll video call him. That’ll be better.”
David wasn’t sure it would be, but he nodded.
Babe started the upward march again. David had never realized how many fucking steps their were until he watched this human drag themself up each one. He could swear he could hear Milo’s teeth grinding on the effort not to pick them up—the same as his.
“Do you know who it was?” David asked, trying to distract all of them while getting a little information.
“What?”
“The biter,” Milo helped.
Babe jerked a little, free hand flying to the bandage on their wrist. “I’m not going to turn am I?”
Milo laughed.
David groaned. “No. Asher really needs to take you to those classes…”
They exhaled tired relief. “Never saw him before. He cornered me and tossed me around. Bit my wrist and then laughed. He wanted my stuff, my phone, my keys, and my wallet.” They swallowed, looking up at the last stretch of steps.
David squeezed his fists until his fingers popped to resist scooping them up.
They continued to walk. “But my phone was busted from his initial attack and the keys I’d kicked. The next train was coming in. He took all my cards though and said…” Babe stopped then they reached the sidewalk atop the steps. They took a deep breath.
“Said what?” David asked.
They opened their eyes and looked at him, not seeming to know what he was talking about at first.
“What did the vampire say?”
A shudder rocked them when they remembered and it was like watching a person remember to be afraid. “Oh.”
“Babe?”
They looked up the street toward their building. “He said he’d see me later.”
Milo growled low in his chest and David felt relieved at the sound if only because it was the echo of the one he was holding back.
Babe looked at them both. “He didn’t mean it though, right? I mean, that’s just something someone would say to scare. There’s no reason for him to bother with me again.”
David frowned. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
Babe nodded like he was agreeing with them, relieved and started down the sidewalk.
David tipped his head toward Milo, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Find him,” David growled. “Get Darlin to help you and hunt him down. I want him in pieces in a box by morning.”
Milo nodded once and was gone.
David joined Babe, close at their side but not quite touching, always ready to catch them or buffer anyone else out of their way. It was one of the longest walks of his life but they both sagged in relief when they reached their apartment door. For a second Babe thought they’d lost their keys again, until David pulled them from his pocket and unlocked the door.
“You don’t have to stay,” they said when they were inside.
He shut and locked the door. The lock was just for them. Nothing was getting past him.
Babe let out a little laugh. “I’m going to clean up, okay? I’ll call Ash after that. Just… Just wait, okay?”
David nodded and stayed in the living room when they headed down the hall to their bathroom.
He kept his senses focused on their breathing, hearing it even through the shut door and the spray of the shower. It took everything he had not to move when they started crying. They needed that moment alone and he wasn’t going to take it from them. He was going to pretend he hadn’t listened, even if he was, even if he had to just in case they passed out.
He texted Angel to let them know that he had found Babe, everything was okay, but he’d be over at Asher and Babe’s for a while.
-
Babe tried not to cry. Really they did. It was stupid. It wouldn’t help anything. Oh god but it had been such a bad night. They’d been so scared and then so embarrassed and now they were a mess and they’d have to call Asher and he’d feel terrible and the whole pack knew and it was going to be a big deal and how could they even convince anyone it wasn’t when their face looked like that!
They stripped down and bunched all their clothes into a tight ball, cramming them down into the trash and then tying off the plastic bag and throwing it into the corner. They felt like a mess. They felt out of control and like everyone was looking. It made their skin hurt.
They showered, trying not to wallow and take too long because they knew David would still be out there. Poor guy was stuck having to sit in their living room, thinking they were falling apart. If they could show him they were fine he’d probably feel okay to leave.
They cried some more in the shower, hoping to get the last of it out. They cleaned up, dressed in some soft sweats and a hoodie with long sleeves. Their palms throbbed, the scrapes deep and matching the ones on their jaw. It was going to look even worse tomorrow. And their eye… they could barely look at it, the white gone red.
When it was as good as it was going to get, they marched back down the hall to their living room. David wasn’t there. Their heart lurched but just as soon as they’d started to panic that they were all alone, they found him in the kitchen. He had the fridge open but had stopped to stare back at them. “I forgot that living with Ash, there’s never any leftovers.”
They exhaled, letting some of the strain in their chest go with that breath. “Yeah. I can make you—”
He shot them a look that was between outrage and shock. “I’ll make us something. What do you want?”
“Oh. You don’t have to.”
“French toast, right?”
Babe stared at him, the sleeves of Asher’s hoodie bunched up in their palms, pressing into those scrapes. “What?”
“When we do pack get togethers overnight and make waffles or pancakes in the morning… Ash always asks for French toast,” he said as he pulled the eggs and milk out and then found a loaf of bread. “He never used to ask for French toast. He has a whole thing about pancakes being superior to all other breakfast options. He started asking for French toast when you joined.”
Babe felt heat rush their face and something ease in their heart. They sank into one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, nodding. “Yeah.” They loved French toast.
David nodded and then took out of phone and waved it over his shoulder. “Do you want to call or do you want me to?”
Tears stung their eyes. It was stupid. Everything was fine and they just needed to let Ash know that.
They held out their hand and David passed them the phone.
It wasn’t hard to find his number and it only rang a couple times before that voice they’d been missing so much picked up.
“Hey buddy. What’s up?” Asher sing-songed, thinking it was David calling.
He was on some trip to meet and get to know other packs on the continent, a gathering out in the wilderness to build relationships. Baby sighed.
The levity was gone from his voice. “Babe? What are you doing on David’s phone?”
How the hell were they supposed to say this? “Everything is okay. Everyone is okay. I just… My phone is broken.” True but not all of it. They closed their eyes. “I got mugged in the subway and my phone got broken. David had to walk me home.” Nope, not quite. “There was a police report and I had to go to the hospital, but I’m okay and I didn’t break covert or anything.”
The pause seemed long even if it was only seconds. “Oh Baabe,” he said so gently that their heart melted. “I’m so sorry. You’re sure you’re okay? That must have been so scary.”
They exhaled so much relief, dropping their head forward onto their folded arm on the counter. Thank god he hadn’t freaked out. They weren’t sure they could handle that right now. They just wanted normal. “It was but I’m okay.”
“You’re home now?”
They nodded and then remembered they had to actually say it. “Yeah.”
“You’re so fucking tough, Baabe. I’ll be there in the morning.”
They sat up, dragging a breath. “You don’t have to—”
“You know I’m coming home. Really, you’re giving me an excuse to do exactly what I want, which is to come back to you. So just hang tight, okay? Order delivery or something, sleep in, and I’ll be there when you wake up, okay?”
Babe hummed something close to a yes.
“David’s there?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I talk to him? I’ll be home soon, okay? I love you so much, Baabe.”
“I love you too,” they said and then held out the phone.
David took it and held it to his ear.
-
David turned back toward the eggs.
“Who?” There was no smile or light-heartedness to Asher’s voice now.
“Milo’s on it.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad.” He couldn’t give him details without Babe overhearing. “I’ll text you.”
“Broken bones?”
“No,” he was fast to answer that.
“Unempowered?”
“No.”
Asher growled.
“Milo’s on it,” David reminded. “I’ll have it for you when you get here.”
“David…” Asher started, human voice shuddering with the effort to stay in that form when probably his whole wolf was trying to shift out and run.
“Anything,” he said.
“Just… stay with them until I get there? They’re tough but…”
David nodded. He’d never intended to go anywhere. “We’re making French toast. We’ll be here when you get back to town.”
Asher grunted and hung up. It wasn’t like him to be short on words but David understood.
Babe had their head in their arms again. “You don’t have to stay,” they said as soon as he started cracking eggs. “I’m probably just going to sleep.”
“Great. Then I can pick what we’re watching.”
Babe lifted their head and looked at him before relenting with a nod. “Sure. You’re a good friend. Asher’s lucky to have you,” they said, voice quiet with the soft compliment.
It made his chest swell but his brow pinch. “You’re pack, Babe. Yes, you’re Asher’s mate, but you’re also pack.” He sighed. “You should have called me from the hospital, not because this was some sort of trouble you needed to report but because you needed help.”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have used help,” he reworded for them and felt the echo of his words in words spoken to him by Asher in the past. “You could have called any of us. You don’t have to call me if you don’t want to, but Milo or—”
“My phone was broken.”
“There are phones in the hospital. You know you could have called… and I know why you didn’t. But you don’t need to need us to call us. It’s okay to just want us to show up.”
They pressed their lips, thinking about it.
He cracked another egg. “And stop worrying about covert.”
They looked up. “But you worry about covert—”
“Yeah. It’s my job to worry about it on behalf of the pack. You don’t need to give a shit about it. When someone hurts you, all bets are off, and I will handle everything else.”
Babe blinked at him and then finally asked. “The vampire isn’t going to come back for me, is he?”
David huffed, looking for the cinnamon on the shelf. “No. You don’t ever need to worry about that.”
Thank you to @rewritetheending and @glorious-spoon for the tags <3
He didn’t dare try to answer with words, afraid of how fiercely his mouth might decide to throw them, so Eddie rolled his eyes instead on a frustrated sigh and moved to rub at his face again.
Before he could get there, Buck seized his wrist and said, “Don’t.”
His smile had dropped away, replaced by a stubborn set to his jaw and a steely focus in his eyes. Carefully, he drew Eddie’s hand down and away from any of his injuries, sweaty fingers keeping a gentle but unbreakable hold on Eddie’s arm.
“You need stitches, Eddie. And even if I could figure out how to do those without making you look like Frankenstein, I still wouldn’t be able to do anything about broken ribs.”
“My ribs aren’t broken.” He was ninety percent sure. They didn’t hurt as badly as the last time he’d broken them anyway.
“You need to go to the hospital,” Buck said, his voice staying slow and even and an immovable barrier to any argument. “I don’t care if you give a statement or let them take pictures of you or testify later or any of that. But I’m- I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re okay.”
The doubt was still there, worry for Eddie mixed in with fear that just asking wouldn’t be enough to make him change his mind. It actually ached to be looked at that way by Buck. So whatever Eddie wanted for himself, however strongly his body and his mind revolted against the idea of going to the hospital, of being cared for, he was never going to let Buck feel like he wasn’t enough.
On one last sigh, he said, “I’m not going in the ambulance.”
At the same time, Buck’s hand tightened on his arm and his smile broke out, relieved and beautiful.
Work and this fic are both kicking my ass. I'm pretty sure I threatened to just let Eddie die in the mugging so I didn't have to write anymore, but he's just too pretty and loveable for me to do that so I'm soldiering on instead.
Take this as your tag if you need a little boost on a sunday 💗
Violence was a regular occurrence in Shane Hollander’s life. As a professional hockey player, it was an accepted, welcomed, and even encouraged part of the game. With more than nine seasons under his belt, he’d witnessed and endured his fair share of injuries. Blades slicing through jersey, pads, and flesh, barely missing major arteries; the milky ivory of a humorous cresting through the skin; and dislocations so often he could pop certain joints back in place with the detached expertise of a trainer.
And, even then, the random savagery of the attack left him utterly stunned. One minute, he was stepping into the cloudless night after a marketing meeting with Rolex, heading to his car, and the next, his existence narrowed to a jarring pain starbursting in his eyes, blood in his eyes, and the barrel of a gun slammed flush against his forehead.
Tagging @renecdote @tizniz @hopeintheashes and anyone else who wants to join!
Morgan was at times convinced he was the worst seer in Dahlia.
Glimpses of the future, like puzzle pieces laid out for him to sort, and yet there he was walking through the park at night with no idea that a trio of humans were narrowing in on him. He had his headphones in and honestly didn’t realize anyone was there until a hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him. Knuckles cracked against his cheek, rocking his vision, knocking out an earbud, and sending him to his knees.
With the earbud out, he heard the peels of reedy laughter.
Morgan licked blood from the corner of his mouth and stood up. His keys fell out of his pocket in the process, his vision blurry at the edges for a second too long.
He blinked at the human suddenly right in front of him, pulling at the front of his jacket and yelling something in his face. His phone? Something about his pockets… Oh shit. Was he getting mugged?
“Oh. Oh, this is embarrassing,” he thought aloud. At least no one would—
A rich laugh filled the park.
Morgan tensed, the three humans looking around frantically for the source. Morgan didn’t look. “Fuck…” He knew that laugh, even the smug, cold version of it now reaching out of the darkness.
“Go away,” he snapped, surprising his muggers.
The nearest one pulled a gun and waved it in Morgan’s face. “You shut up!”
The laughter stopped.
Morgan stared at the barrel and then at the man holding the weapon. The other two shifted about on the sidewalk behind him, one edging back while the other pressed in closer.
Morgan held the human’s gaze but spoke to the darkness he knew all too well. “Don’t kill them.”
The human’s face pinched and he pushed forward, about to jab the barrel right against Morgan’s head. The metal never connected but the gun went off, making him flinch and his ears ring.
Porter was right there, practically between them with one hand wrapped around the human’s and the gun pushed high.
Morgan hissed out his breath. “Or break covert, obviously!”
The humans shouted and he was close enough to see the shock and fear on the nearest one, his hand still caught in that inhuman grip. He swore and struggled, trying to shove Porter off of him.
“Jesus. Let him go!” Morgan said, stepping in to push a hand at Porter’s chest. The last thing he needed was dead humans to explain to—
“That doesn’t sound like a thank you, seer,” Porter drawled.
The humans finally got their nerve and pushed in, rushing to attack Porter and retrieve their friend.
Porter laughed even when they hit him. It was all a blur off movement in the dark, a rush of bodies and fists and knives. Morgan’s heart pounded in his throat, tense in expectation of being hit, but it never happened. Porter was faster, though he could tell he was trying not to be too fast. Disarming and shoving their attackers back. The gun had been lost in the dark, the human still looking confused by its disappearance from his hand.
Finally, the humans turned and ran.
Morgan watched them go, slowly realizing that he was alone in the park with his ex. Great.
He turned and looked around at the ground for his earbud and keys, resisting the urge to rub at the side of his face.
As soon as Morgan spotted his earbud on the dark pavement, Porter was there, picking it up. “I thought you would have come visit after I came back to town…” he said, hold it out to him.
Morgan hesitated to take it. How many years had it been since he touched him? Four? He took the earbud and shoved it into his pocket. “Why?”
“Didn’t you see me coming?” Porter asked, moving away with vampire speed and then returning with his keys.
Morgan took the keys too. “I did.” And he had. There had been a time when he didn’t see Porter’s future…when theirs had been too close to see the vampire beyond the blank space that was his own. That wasn’t the case anymore, and realizing that when he foresaw his return to the Solaire king had been another knife to his heart.
Porter nodded slowly, like that was answer to something unspoken. Maybe it was. The vampire took a step back and Morgan clenched his jaw so as not to ask him to wait—not to say anything to stop him from going. They should never have run into each other. He’d rather have been mugged.
He took two steps and stopped, shoe scuffing the pavement and vision swaying. No. No fucking way. No. He squeezed his keys in his hand. His head pulsed and his eyes hurt. No.
“Morgan…” Porter’s smooth voice trailed him, but it wasn’t quite as smooth as usual. Was it worry?
Morgan shook his head and closed his eyes. He would not allow himself to imagine Porter was worried. Porter was just in the park looking for a meal when he overheard—
-
Porter moved closer. Morgan’s heart was pounding and he wasn’t walking. He swayed and Porter’s teeth clicked, his hand hovering close to the seer’s back, hesitating to touch. He hadn’t touched him since they broke up—since the fight that ended in them breaking up.
“Morgan,” he said again. He was going to faint. Was he concussed or was it just the adrenaline? Fuck.
Morgan stumbled back, into him, and Porter was relieved not to have to close that distance first. He held him upright, turning him in his arms to get a look at him just as his eyes rolled back and his body went limp. Porter lifted him, trying not to think of all the other times, or to allow himself to take any enjoyment from this. Morgan was injured and he was getting to play hero? Getting to have that contact he’d craved for four years? He was a fucking monster.
He put the seer down on a bench, kneeling in front of him and holding the sides of his neck to keep him upright as he blinked awake.
“You’re okay,” Porter said, because he’d make sure it was true if it wasn’t right now.
Morgan groaned, touching Porter’s wrist and blinking away that confusion. “What…”
“You might have a concussion.” He should have gotten there sooner. He shouldn’t have let that fucking human punch him. “Do you want to go to the human hospital or a healer?”
Morgan snorted but then scrunched up his face like that had been a bad choice. He pushed Porter’s hands away and leaned forward, head practically between his knees. “I’m fine.”
Porter raised an eyebrow. “Humans who are fine don’t faint.”
“I got punched in the head,” Morgan countered.
“Exactly. I only know one healer…” Sam might hate him but he wouldn’t be able to deny an injured human. Healers could never resist a patient.
“No.” Morgan waved him off. “I don’t need a healer. I just need to go home.”
Porter resisted the urge to click his teeth in irritation at the stubborn human, instead he nodded. “Okay. Do you still live at the same place? It’s not far.”
Morgan huffed and looked up at him. One eye definitely had a splotch of red where it should be white. He was going to track down that human with the gun later… But not until he made sure his seer was okay.
“You have something in the works, Porter?” Morgan ground out the words.
“What?” As soon as he asked, he understood, and it felt like a knife to his chest.
“Need to hide your future again?” Morgan pushed himself up, staring back at him. “You know, I still haven’t figured out which one of us is the asshole… you for tricking me into fucking you for two years or me for…” His anger ran out, withering into something like pain and disgust. That was how it was with Morgan. He was too self-reflecting to be wrathful. “..for being with someone who just needed an alibi.”
Porter stared. It wasn’t often he was surprised…but it had often been this seer surprising him.
The first part was true. Porter had put himself in Morgan’s path six years ago because he knew he was the seer obscura. Because he knew no one, including Morgan, could see Morgan’s future. He got close to put himself in that blind spot. “I used you,” he admitted, nodding. He’d confessed it before leaving four years ago. A lie had never eaten him up the way that one had. “But I never had to pretend to be interested in you or force myself into your bed…”
Morgan rolled his eyes and looked away.
Porter thought he would have walked away if he thought his legs were steady enough. When had he twisted their past into this new story? Of all the things… “How long have you been thinking that?”
The seer’s silence was the answer. Since they broke up? Since the moment Porter told him he’d been with him for the blind spot?
Porter touched the back of Morgan’s arm, as much to steady the seer as it was to steady himself. “I wronged you,” he said. “Never the other way.”
Morgan shook his head, gaze piercing the darkness of the park around them. “We don’t need to talk about this.”
“Clearly we do. You can hate me. You should hate me. But you did nothing wrong. I enjoyed every moment I had with you. I…” What was he doing? He hadn’t said any of these things when he’d confessed the truth that set off their breakup. Why now? Because he didn’t have any more dirty missions? Because he was back? No… Because Morgan had somehow twisted this up to think that Porter had never really been with him—that their relationship had all been a lie. “Those were the best two years of my life. I never had to pretend at anything with you. The only lie was hot it started.”
Morgan winced, eyes pressing shut. “And how can I believe any of that?”
Porter had told so many lies in his life. He had tricked and conned and seduced. He had done everything and anything he had to to survive, to get to a place where he was safe. He had ruined and ended lives, but this was the deceit that haunted him. He’d hurt Morgan, shaken and broken something deep, and he’d stolen his own happiness.
“I needed you to hate me, so that I could leave when I had to leave… I thought it would be better for you. I thought you’d move on.”
“I did.”
“But I didn’t.”
Morgan looked at him, jaw tight and glassy eyes hard. “You’re a liar.”
Porter nodded. “I am. But I only lied to you once. I tricked you that first night. I seduced you.”
Morgan jerked his arm from Porter’s hand. “I remember.”
He should just let him go. “The rest wasn’t a lie.”
Morgan groaned, pulling at his hair before turning to glare at the vampire. “You hear yourself, right? I can’t believe you. I can’t know. And you can’t be asking me to trust you.”
Porter winced. No. He couldn’t do that. “Can I just walk you to a healer?”
Morgan bared teeth in annoyance and Porter tried not to think about how much he liked that gesture. Even if this was awful, it was the first time he’d been this close to him in so long. “I don’t need a healer. I just need to get home and sleep,” he said, starting to walk the path again.
Porter moved easily at his side. “I don’t think you’re supposed to go to sleep if you have a concussion…”
“Shouldn’t you be looking for a meal before sunup?”
Porter flashed a grin. “I assure you, I’m well fed.”
Morgan huffed, but Porter noticed that his pace was off. He seemed to have bursts of speed and then slow down again. Anyone else would have probably sat the fuck down and waited for help, but not his seer. Morgan was going to walk himself home or drop along the way, and there was nothing Porter could do but linger and catch him if he did fall. It made him feel like a ghost, haunting this person. “Why are you really here?” Morgan asked, voice strained.
“I wanted to see you,” he admitted.
Morgan sighed. They were getting closer to the edge of the park and the sounds of traffic.
“You still live on the fifth floor?”
Morgan glanced at him, squinting against what Porter guessed was a headache. He really was concussed. “Why?”
“You’re never going to make it. You might as well let me grab us a cab and take you—”
“No.”
Porter nodded and kept pace at his side and a step back, watching him. “When you pass out again, I’m taking you to a healer.”
“Fuck you.”
Porter grinned.
“Shut up.”
Porter pressed his lips and nodded obediently.
Morgan made it to his building but only up half a flight of stairs before his legs gave out on him. Porter didn’t waste any time getting them back outside and into a cab. DAMN had a healer center open twenty-four hours and not far from there. The driver was pretty confused why they were going to a campus in the middle of the night, especially with Morgan in and out of consciousness, but he stopped looking worried when Porter pushed cash into his hand.
“I’m fine,” the seer grumbled when Porter took him out of the car and carried him across the grass straight toward the little lit building.
“A picture of health,” Porter agreed.
Morgan sighed, dropping his forehead against Porter’s neck. “I can’t trust you,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Porter squeezed him a little. It wasn’t a hug…but it was damn close. Probably as close as he’d ever get again. “I know.”
I've still got some asks in my inbox and a bunch of ideas rolling around, but this one is another mugging fic. I've already got the Gavin/FL home invasion fic and the Angel mugged fic. I think I'm working my way to a whole series of them...
This one is Damien/Huxley getting mugged by unempowered humans. <3 <3
tw: mugging, established relationship, banter during danger, cute dark?
New Rule
Damien wasn’t sure what he was watching, his gaze flicking between his boyfriend and the strangers in front of them.
Huxley was using his slow calm voice, his hands up.
The two unempowered humans were practically yelling, their energy on the opposite end of the spectrum and one of them holding a gun. A gun! It waved between Huxley and Damien.
“Okay, dude. No worries,” Huxley said, subtly stepping to the side. At first Damien thought he was just trying to get closer to him, but then he realized he was standing in front of him. What the absolute hell was going on?
“Give us your fucking phones!”
Huxley nodded. “Sure, buddy.” He slowly pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Are you joking?” Damien asked. It was like he’d walked into a parallel dimensions. This could not be real!
“Dames…” Huxley said gently, not sounding worried really. It was the tone he used when he thought Damien should be nicer to people. But these were criminals! Human criminals aiming to mug them, two empowered humans.
Huxley started to hold his phone out and the second guy, the one without a gun, leaned out to snatch it.
"No!" Damien snapped, taking it first and shooting the human a reproachful glare.
Huxley turned sideways to look at Damien, one eyebrow raised pleadingly. “Dames…”
“Don’t Dames me! Why are you handing him your phone?”
“Hey meathead!” The one with the gun shouted, jabbing his gun in Huxley’s direction again. Oh, Damien was getting real fucking sick of that.
The temperature in the alley was rising. Damien knew it only because the humans were sweating.
“They probably need it more than we do. It’s okay,” Huxley said. “I’ll get a new one.”
“That’s not the point!”
The mugger took a step closer. “Give me your fucking shit or else—”
“Or else what?” Damien yelled back, really asking, outraged that this stranger was really threatening them—threatening Huxley.
Huxley put a hand on his side, seeming to have forgotten the muggers. “It’s okay,” he said again, trying to soothe him. “They don’t know better.”
“Fuck you!” the guy without the gun snapped over the shoulder of the one with the gun.
Damien glared at him. “You better watch that mouth…” he warned, watching heat bring out a bright red across the human’s skin.
“Dames… Let’s just let them go, okay?” Huxley smiled at him.
“Are you insane? I’m the one with the gun here,” the other human yelled, another step closer, that arm still out and his weapon pointed at Huxley.
“Covert, babe,” Huxley reminded gently.
Damien stared back at his boyfriend, trying really hard to let it go, to not let that absolute outrage of this stranger threatening his person…pulling a weapon on his person…ignite that inferno in his chest. When Huxley gently tugged his phone out of Damien’s hand, Damien let it go. He held Huxley’s gaze so as not to watch him toss it to the strangers. He held his gaze when he pulled out his wallet and tossed it too, all the while looking serene as ever.
“Now the rich boy’s shit too,” the guy with the gun said.
Huxley huffed a breath and broke eye contact to look at the stranger. “Buddy, you really have to walk away with the win before this goes to shit…”
The stranger shook his head and lunged forward, reaching out with his free hand to shove at Huxley’s chest.
He didn’t make contact though.
Damien was trying, he really was, but this was asking too much.
His magic rippled out when he pushed a shield around them, rebuffing that hand before it could touch Huxley. His Huxley. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
The guy stumbled back a step, face wrinkling in confusion.
Huxley exhaled a shallow laugh. “Just go, man.” When they didn’t, he added, “Do you feel your sneakers melting into the asphalt? It’s not the summer, dude. Time to run.”
Damien looked up at Huxley again. “You think I can handle giving them your stuff but not my own?”
Huxley’s expression softened. “That’s not what I meant…”
Damien’s heart squeezed. No, of course it wasn’t. “Oh.” He was okay handing his own stuff over, yes, but even Huxley had limits to his kindness.
The stranger reached for them again but not for Huxley this time. He aimed to grab at Damien’s shoulder, to pull him away or turn him maybe. He clearly didn’t like how casually they were taking this whole situation.
But Damien wasn’t looking at the situation anymore, he was looking at his partner and that soft expression of his when he’s trying to make Damien understand him when he’s not sure how to put it into words himself. And then that open, kind expression changed when the stranger reached for Damien.
He hadn’t seen Huxley look that serious, or that angry, since the inversion. The ground rolled, not exactly underfoot but outward from them, rolling the two guys off their feet, cracking the asphalt and toppling a garbage bin. Car alarms went off on the street and Huxley winced, turning to look at the humans he’d knocked over.
“Look at that, we broke covert,” Damien said, stepping over a deep crack in the ground to walk over to the muggers.
Huxley swore.
Damien rolled his hand at his side and heated the gun in the man’s hand until it glowed and he screamed, letting it go.
“Dames…”
He bent and picked up his boyfriend’s phone and wallet, pausing to shoot the confused and scared human one last warning glare. “Tell anyone about this, and I’ll find you.”
Huxley groaned. “Damien, really…”
He walked back to his partner and put his phone and wallet back into his pockets, where they belonged. “Okay, new rule.”
Huxley sighed, looking worried about the mess they’d made.
Weirdly, Damien couldn’t care less about covert. He took his hand and started walking again. This was a mess that could easily be fixed, but he doubted it needed to be. “New rule,” he said again when they turned a corner. “No letting things happen to you, that you wouldn’t let happen to me.”
Huxley squeezed his hand gently. “Damien…”
Damien shook his head. “It’s a rule, okay? I don’t care if they’re unempowered. I’ll memory wipe them myself if I have to.”
Huxley glanced back toward the mouth of that dark alley. “Do you think we need to?”
Damien scoffed. “No.” He curled an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, tugging him against his side as they walked and enjoying the weight of his arm settling over his shoulders. It was a step closer to forgetting the sight of that gun pointed at him.
“You’re still warm…” Huxley pointed out.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna go skinny dipping in the river?”
Damien almost tripped over his own steps. “What?”
Huxley smiled and shrugged innocently. “You know. To cool off.”
Damien laughed darkly, knowing that if he got Huxley naked it would not help him cool off, no matter how cold the river was tonight. And Hux definitely knew it too. “Yeah. Okay,” he agreed, more than willing to pretend it would.
I have… not been writing as much this week as I wanted to since I had some other crafty projects to work on instead. And I was gonna try to throw something together after work real quick but I hate posting at 11 so: Fuck It
Here’s some more of the mugging fic.
Heat started at Eddie’s scalp and cascaded down his body like liquid. It was a fury that stretched the ability of his body to contain it, one that rattled the doors and cracked the windows and that he hadn’t felt since the last time someone had pointed a weapon at him and asked him to dance. Unlike last time though he was dealing with a knife instead of a gun. Unlike last time there wasn’t anyone here that he had to protect.
“Fuck you,” he answered.
”I know you’re not going to make me repeat myself,” Edge said. “I’ll gut you right here in this fucking alley.”
”Try it. I dare you.”
”Give me your wallet, motherfucker,” the thief said. He tried to keep his voice as stoney and immovable as it had been since he’d first grabbed onto Eddie, but he couldn’t manage it. His confidence was entirely in his knife and when it wasn’t enough to get what he wanted, he faltered. The facade cracked.
“I thought you weren’t going to repeat yourself?” Eddie goaded. He could feel the man’s anger in the tremble of the knife against his body and he could hear the way fear and confusion were bleeding into his resolve, splitting it apart, as his breath turned ragged in Eddie’s ear.
Help I do not have nearly enough of this done for the number of requests I got for it. (Plus, I'm hoping against hope that it might actually be under 5k?)
So this is for @bigfootsmom @devirnis @try-set-me-on-fire too!
Buck and Tommy and Eddie are supposed to be meeting up for trivia night but oops something happens to Eddie on his way there. He's hurt and Buck doesn't handle it well. Tommy does his best to help, but, well. This is a BuckandEddie thing.
He’s wondering if he should grab Eddie a water and a pack of crackers (he’s gotta still be full from dinner but pain meds will make him nauseous if he ever takes them) when the kitchen door opens softly behind him.
“You good in here?” Tommy asks, holding the door in his hands and peeking around it.
“What? Me? Yeah. I’m just-” Buck holds up the bag and Tommy nods, stepping fully into the room.
“Nice. I’m a frozen peas man personally, but broccoli’s good in a pinch,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets and flashing a grin Buck’s way.
Buck hasn’t been gone nearly long enough for someone to come looking for him. Three minutes tops. And he knows Tommy’s not uncomfortable sitting alone with Eddie so Buck must be doing an even worse job than he thought at holding it together.
“Really?” he asks, forcing a smile onto his face while he roots through the linen drawer. “I, uh, kinda thought you’d go for steak. Press a slab of meat to your face and then sear it off for dinner.”
“Eh, it’s not great for my cholesterol.”
