Timing: When Rory first arrived to White Crest Feat: @roryzhang & @howlingxnomad Warnings: N/A Summary: Ulf makes Rory some breakfast and they share a nice moment
What’s the worst that could happen?
Steph’s voice rang in Rory’s ears, sweet and sharp. A lot could happen– the worst of it already had. But Ulfric, the blonde wolf who stood nearly a solid foot above her, had convinced her to venture out to White Crest, Maine. It had taken her a month to follow his trail, tail tucked beneath her legs, but she had ended up on his lawn, the farmhouse far more daunting than it should have been– than it would have been, if she weren’t afraid of every little thing.
But she could do this. Had to do this. Rory had no other choice at this point.
So they swung their legs over the side of the bed that Ulf had provided. Rory wasn’t alone– she could hear steady breathing, the sound of clatter from the kitchen, and the telltale signs of footsteps. Like their shifts, Rory hadn’t yet gotten used to their enhanced senses.
Rory managed to drag themselves up from their bed, crossing the distance to the door. With a shaking hand, Rory finally managed to twist the knob of the door, pushing it open. Ari’s scent lingered, too, even though she wasn’t home.
“Ulf?” Rory called out, venturing into the kitchen, hands clammy rom the sudden bout of nerves.
–
Mere moments after Rory called out, the first pat of butter hit the pan with a sizzle. Old cast iron, well seasoned took it like a champ. Bringing out a medley of smells and tastes into the air. The old wolf was all smiles. Still in his morning digs, which pretty much consisted of a pair of boxers, hair up in a bun, and one sock. The other one always managed to get lost in the night. Something about heat-balance, as Ulfric had attempted to explain to Ari once. Though this morning he also donned a frilly little apron, as to catch the grease that sputtered off the stove top as he started to cook.
“Ahh! Morning pup!” His voice boomed over the soft tunes playing out from the little record player in the other room. “I hope you are liking pancakes. They are big hit around here.” The norseman’s grammar wasn’t always the best. He made an honest effort when typing, if only so clients wouldn’t think less of his tattoo shop. They could think the man himself was a dunce all they wanted, but nothing would tarnish the rep of Ink Inc.
“No need for nerves this day, you come sit and we get your belly big and full.”
—
The smell curled around Rory’s nose, and though it should’ve done something to ease the nerves she’d begun to feel from the moment she realized she wasn’t alone, it just brought back those feelings in Redding– of Steph knelt over a pot with a wooden spoon. But this was not Redding, and that was not Steph.
This was a part of their new life. What was before had been obliterated, as dramatic as it was. Rory forced a half-smile as they approached Ulf. It was soft and simple, the term of endearment, but it still felt foreign to their ears. A year and a half and they had nothing to show for it. “Pancakes are good.” Rory stood far enough away from where Ulf was working so that they weren’t in the way, hands wringing together behind their back.
The question of how he knew she was nervous was cut easily by the steady beat of Ulf’s heart. He could probably hear the rapid beat of her own. It wasn’t easy to miss, she didn’t figure. “Oh. Right. Yeah, sorry.” Another forced smile. Rory took a seat as instructed, hands gnarled in her lap like intersecting branches. “It does smell good. I don’t mean to be…” Rory’s brows knit together as they tried to figure out how to express it themselves, “quiet about it. I’m obviously really thankful.”
—
“What sort of toppers you like?” A probably too large plate of breakfast confections towered in front of Ulf for a moment as he turned from the stove and placed the whole stack in front of Rory. The man took a moment to study her features, confirming the story his senses were already reading. Heart beating out much too loud. Sweat leaving a salty taste to mingle with the morning sweets.
Telltale signs of a nervous nelly.
Ulfric was not oblivious to the fight going on inside the new guest at the farm. He had been born this way, but it didn’t make him blind. If anything it made him more warm. Ready to step up to bat twice as hard as for those who were still learning. Ulf had seen his share of new pups, knew how the changes often felt more of an affliction than the blessing that it could be. He also knew those negative feelings could fade in time, with the right care and right nudges.
“You’ve nothing to ‘pologize for. This is all new, yes?” There were soft crinkles at the corners of his grayish blue eyes, alight with the same love and care his parents showed him and his siblings. Berserkers were very good at feeling everything so fully, so freely. It was their nature after all. No filters. “Your thanks are appreciated though, pup.”
—
It hadn’t occurred to Rory that one day, far from those moments in Redding, she would be someplace new, and in that place, she might have to enjoy herself. This could be that place, if they allowed themselves the pleasure. But they still felt guilty. After everything they had done, they were sitting here staring at a stack of pancakes while being asked what kind of toppings they wanted. Back in Washington, her family’s life had been torn apart. She swallowed down the burn in her throat and looked up to meet Ulf’s soft gaze.
“Yes.” It was short, definite. Maybe it would tell Ulf all he needed to know. Though, she imagined their first meeting had done that job for her. In Vegas, Rory had insisted that she didn’t need his help, and now here she was, tail tucked between her legs. Really, she wanted to be stronger. Not because she wanted to prove she could survive in this new world– the one without Steph, the one where a beast hung low beneath her skin, but because she wasn’t sure she deserved his kindness.
“Do you have strawberries?” She figured she’d be able to still make out the shape of them, even if they were a deep green that also felt familiar.
—
The older wolf stared with softened eyes. A charm he didn’t extend to everyone. Sure Ulfric was warm to most, but to his pack he could be the sun. Life giving, bright, strong, but gentle. He sat across from them for a moment, placed his massive hands over theirs and just held that pose as if to transfer any amount of his calm, his strength, or his joy over to the struggling young wolf. “You will be alright pup. I will make sure you are. You are not alone here. And if you choose it, you never have to be alone again.” Things at the farm had never been exactly, well… stable. “There will always be at least one of us around, and being a part of a pack means you have someone to be watching your sticks at all times. In time, it feels… like family. If you let it.”
Ulfric knew he was gone too often, always out there searching for something he was never really sure he’d find. Hell, half the time he wasn’t completely sure if it was a thing he was after. Maybe more of a concept. He wanted to bring people in. People like Rory who needed a home. People like Ari who would always be Ulf’s home. The pack was little, chaotic, and the faces changed out a bit too often for the old wolf’s liking. But it was still his. And he wanted to protect that with everything he could. And that meant searching.
The truth he learned out on the road was one that kept him away longer than he’d ever intended. Consequences. They’d always follow him. And they’d always lead back to the ones he cared for. For his pack to be strong, Ulf had to be the strongest. He had to control himself in his human skin so no one would get hurt because of his wolf. It was all instinct and rage and sure he’d never directly harm one of his own, but killing the wrong human at the wrong time could just as easily sign a death warrant. Rory here was living breathing proof of that.
“Oh, of course, valpen min! It is strawberry season! We have some freshly picked. Big as your head almost! Would you like them diced, sliced, as is, in a jam?”
–
Despite his stature, Ulf was kind— Though, maybe that had been presumptuous on her part that he wouldn’t be. Rory was beyond grateful for the kindness he continued to extend towards her, as well as the understanding. It couldn’t be comfortable, hearing somebody have frequent panic attacks from across the house. The smile that they wore now was far more confident than what had pulled at the corners of their lips prior. Though she hadn’t yet trained her ears to pick up on the lies by the beat of a heart— genuinity seemed to be the only thing laced with his words. “I’m… starting to learn that.” It would be hard, and Rory knew that— to believe all of this as truth and to not fall prey to the inner workings of their mind, but to trust Ulf, and even Ariana implicitly, that was what would get them through this. “I can’t… uh, say when I’ll come around, but you know— I’m grateful for the patience regardless.”
The smell of breakfast began to make Rory’s stomach groan with anticipation. Though there were little things that reminded her of Redding, and even of Washington, this was its own experience. It split from the frame that Rory figured the path their life would take, but it was similar enough that maybe Rory could pretend. Pretend that this was what was meant for her, even if fate was something she hardly believed in at all.
“Oh, uh—“ Rory stared across the island to Ulf before shook her head, “whole is fine, I use the uh, bottom part of my fork to just mash it overtop.” It wasn’t as barbaric as it sounded, but if they were ripe enough, they squashed easily, and even though the stains they’d leave on her fingers would be different from what she remembered— if she could remember such a thing, they were a favorite of Rory’s.
“Is there anything that you need help with? I feel guilty just sitting here.” Realistically, they could have stood and began working around Ulf, but they still felt pressured to ask the question before presenting action.
–
“No one is expecting things to happen right away, pup. It is too big a feeling, too big of change for anyone to come ‘round to in a few days, weeks, or even years sometimes.” It warmed the old wolf’s heart to see Rory soften around the edges. Ulfric wanted his home to be an open hearth. Wanted his arms to be a refuge to run back to. He’d protect his pack from anything, even if it was just the dark thoughts in their own minds. He’d spend as much time as they needed, being whatever they needed.
But right at that moment, it was all about breakfast. It was about serving up some strawberries and making the farmhouse fill with another round of delicious smells. Ulf was beaming as he brought out the basket, and plucked a few of the ripe red fruits for himself as he returned to the stove to whip up a few more stacks.
“Cleanup is always required, house rule. Everyone works together to make it easy.” The ‘wolf called over his shoulder as another pancake flipped in the air and was caught by deft hands holding onto the cast iron pan. “If you wanna work on the dishes after you finish up your food, I’d be pleased as getting punched.”
