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asher and david who both thought they had unrequited crushes on each other before they met their respective mates not knowing the other returned their feelings

asher who was depressed about david pulling away from him after gabe died

asher who went looking for other connections because his best friend was being distant and found babe

babe who's similar to david in a lot of ways. asher who likes babe at first because they feel so familiar to him

david who kind of gets along with babe, but also doesn't really trust them. he's sure babe and asher won't last long. (that hc where david just decides to confess to ash after he and babe break up? YES YES YES YE—)

asher who accidentally falls head over heels for babe. babe who has a hard time getting along with others but asher really gets them

david and babe being too similar. too similar to like each other. but deep down, they see themselves in each other. and they hate that.

david who falls in love with angel.

angel and babe who used to be close friends in school but had a huge falling out, moved away and never saw each other again. (maybe angel might have had a thing for babe deep deep deep down. they are their type, after all. but they'd never admit it, even to themselves)

milo and sweetheart and david and angel being the Established couples, and babe being nervous about being introduced to the pack. babe has met most of ash's friends individually, but never been officially integrated into the group

babe and angel running into each other again for the first time in years and going oh, wait, when you said [name] you meant like. [NAME] [name]. babe's official introduction to the pack going terribly.

angel who's finally built the life for themselves that they've always dreamed of. angel who chased their dreams, and moved to the city, and got the job, and found their dream partner, a magical one no less. babe who gave up, and always said they'd never live somewhere so crowded, and dropped out of school, and is working a dead end job, and always made fun of angel for those fantasy romance books they'd read. and now, they're here. in the same place. the same position. together. angel who feels like babe has once again invaded their turf.

angel telling david that babe isn't to be trusted. david getting protective over asher, thinking his suspicions have been proved correct. babe getting pissed. asher getting pissed.

It was the first Friday of February and it was eleven at night and Asher was supposed to be home an hour ago. Most of the time, Asher running late wasn’t a cause for concern. It was a fact of life you had accepted two years ago after your third date. By that time, he was three for three for being at least fifteen minutes late. He had no concept of time. You managed to train him to at least send a text when he knew he would be running behind, but that was about all you’d managed so far. You knew that the anxiety building up in your stomach was not warranted, at least not yet. Asher’s job didn’t really care about shift schedules and ETA’s. If there was a fire in the last thirty seconds of his shift, it was his responsibility. It wasn’t the first time he had been late by a good amount of time and hadn’t had the time to reach you. 

For as much as Ash was unpredictable, you were regimented. Everything you did, you did just so. You liked consistency in the same way Asher liked variety. So when he was late, you worried. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. 

You scrubbed the single dish you’d dirtied for dinner and stared at the clock that hung above your kitchen window. The window that looked up on the driveway. The window where headlights would flash through brightly as soon as Asher pulled in. Your dish was clean several minutes ago. You lingered anyway. 

It was the first Friday of February and it was eleven-fifteen at night and Asher wasn’t home. 

It was eleven-thirty at night and Asher wasn’t home. 

It was eleven-forty-five at night. 

It was eleven-forty-six. 

Your plate was clean thirty minutes ago. Your wrists itched the soapy water. 

Eleven-forty-seven.

Eleven-forty-eight. 

He was dead. He had to have died in a fire. 

Eleven-forty-nine. 

He didn’t have life insurance. Even in his line of work, he had stupidly put off enrolling every time it opened up. Idiot. You were going to have to pay for the funeral for his charred corpse out of pocket. Might as well cremate him. 

Eleven-fifty. 

David was probably dead too. No way he would let Ash go down in a fire and not try to save him, even at the risk of his own life. At least David had life insurance. And no suffering partner to mourn him. The only person who would mourn David would be Asher. 

Eleven-fifty-one. Headlights flashed through the window. You slammed your plate back down into the sink and turned off the tap. “Asshole,” you muttered.

“Asshole!” You shouted, as soon as the door opened. Asher poked his head in and gave you a pointed, serious look, which shut you up for a moment and paused your anger-panic-meltdown. Something was wrong. Obviously, he wouldn’t show up two hours late without a text if everything was perfectly fine. He shouldered open the door and revealed exactly what was wrong. 

David Shaw was leaning on Asher’s shoulder like he would fall out without his support. David’s dark, warm complexion was pale and drawn. His eyes were distant and red-rimmed. He looked like he was dying, but you couldn’t see any blood or burns. 

“What the hell happened to him?” You instinctively lowered your voice as Asher led him to the couch. 

“He’s… I don’t know.” Ash replied. “Weird, bad call. He got overwhelmed.” 

You huffed out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. Of course. Of course David was overwhelmed and of course Asher brought him here instead of his immaculate, silent apartment with no one to piss him off or tap against his hairline trigger. 

You were not David Shaw’s biggest fan. He was a weird, mean guy. Most things he said he said with a curl of anger and cruelty in his tone. He treated Ash like a lackey and everybody else who crossed his path like active enemies, including you. 

All of that you could forgive, in the end. You struggled with your own resting-pissed-off-face and most of the things you said came out in a cold, bitchy monotone. What really set your mind about David Shaw was an ill-planned threesome you’d seen through six months ago. The way that he looked at Asher and the way that Asher looked at him could only be one thing. Love. 

It wasn’t a secret. Asher made his attraction to his best friend very known to you. You didn’t see the appeal, but that was likely because you and David looked just enough alike for self depreciation to curl around your guts when you looked at him. You knew that Asher thought you were both, as he put it, practically edible, but that he wasn’t going to cheat on you with David Shaw. 

“He… changed. When his dad died.” Asher had shrugged and smiled when he explained it all to you. “He was always… stoic, but now he’s… yeah. I couldn’t be with him. Not emotionally. Not really.” 

You believed him. You trusted him. You wouldn’t have suggested the threesome if you didn’t. But when you saw Asher with him like this, fussing over him like he was some sort of lost lamb, you couldn’t get the bitter taste out of your mouth. 

Asher loved you in a way he couldn’t love David. Not safely. Not now. 

But he loved David first. And he loved him totally. He loved him in a way that you didn’t think you understood. 

You watched for a few minutes as Asher gently coaxed David out of his work boots and his ever-present, too-big leather jacket. David wasn’t much help, though he raised a hand to scratch at his chest as soon as his jacket was gone. 

“What material is that shirt made of?” You asked. 

“What?” Asher looked up, still straining to reach around David and unclip his wallet chain. 

“The shirt. Is it cotton? Or a blended fabric?” 

“I don’t-” Asher huffed, reaching back to check the tag. “50% polyester. Why?” 

“It’s irritating his skin.” You mumbled. You sighed and finally stepped forward, reaching around David’s waist and pulling the shirt off. David lifted his arms obediently as you tugged on it. His chest was raw from how much he’d been scratching it. “Good?” You asked him. David nodded. “I’m gonna lower the lights and turn up the heat a little.” 

“Babe-” Ash caught your hand in his for a second. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, baby,” you replied like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing. It was actually a whole lot. But you wouldn’t say that. Not with David here. 

You set up the house the way you would if you were overstimulated. You had spent a weekend fitting every light in the house with dimmers soon after moving in. The master-switch by the thermostat lowered everything from the biting full brightness to a softer, less intrusive glow. You raised the heat a few degrees, to the balmy seventy-two that you knew David kept his apartment at at all times. You closed the blinds to block any headlights from moving cars. You ran a soft cloth under lukewarm water and brought it out to the living room. 

Asher had managed to position David on his side, curled in the fetal position, with a throw pillow under his head. David was running his fingers over the soft fabric rhythmically, his eyes closed but clearly not asleep. 

“David?” You asked softly as you knelt next to him. “Is your chest hot? Itchy?” 

“Y-yeah,” David managed, his voice cracking. 

“Okay,” You replied, “that’s okay. I’ve got a damp cloth. It could help. If it doesn’t I’ll stop.”

You gently pressed the cloth to David’s skin. Your mind supplied memories of wiping the same cloth over David’s thighs and stomach as he panted, wrung loose, in your bed. He was overwhelmed then too. You should have known then, how very similar the two of you were. Was he diagnosed? Did he even know? 

“Sorry,” David mumbled, face pressed hard into the pillow. “I don’t…”

“Shh,” you soothed, “don’t say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I’m… ruining your night.” 

You glanced at the clock in the kitchen as you shook your head, smiling. 

“It’s twelve-o-two. Not a night anymore, so you can’t ruin it.” 

He lapsed into silence again and you didn’t force anything. Asher started to strip away David’s thick, canvas work pants. 

“What happened on the call?” You asked when the silence grew too thick to stand.

“Structure fire.” Asher sighed. “In an apartment complex.” 

“God,” you mumbled. “Did you put it out?”

“Yeah,” Ash nodded, “after it ate through three units. Milo and David must have done twenty-something extractions by the end of it.” 

“Not you?” You asked. Usually, Milo and Asher breached in fires. 

“Nope.” Asher shook his head. “David’s… he’s been making me IC recently.” 

“Huh…” you huffed

David Shaw didn’t strike you as the sort of guy that gave up control easily. As long as you’d known Asher (granted, two years wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things), he had always told you David was in charge of every scene they were called to. You didn’t know what it meant, him handing the title of Incident Commander to Asher. It seemed, from the troubled look on his face, that Asher didn’t know either. 

“David,” you bent down in front of him, “do you wanna go to bed?”

“I…” David’s brow scrunched up, seeming to struggle with the decision. “I don’t have my toothbrush.” You huffed out a laugh. 

“We have extras.” You said. “Come on, we can start moving that way.” 

It turned out, Asher kept extras of the very specific brand of toothpaste David had bought for literal decades (he hated mint, apparently, said it was overwhelming), and an extra of the type of toothbrush he used (soft bristles). Under the bright bathroom light, though, one snag in your evening became clear. 

David was filthy. Covered in ash and dirt and sweat. He was the kind of grimy that you would not allow in your bed. And he was the kind of grimy that would surely start tapping on his already frayed nerves in a matter of minutes. 

“David,” Asher said softly, catching his attention, “you gotta take a shower, buddy.” 

David Shaw did something you’d never seen before. His face screwed up and he began to cry. 

Asher had to physically pull David into the shower in the end, and it took you both to scrub away the grime that was covering his body from head to toe. He fought you the entire time, flinching away from the warm water. 

“I thought he loved swimming and stuff like that,” you muttered as David tried to press himself into the cold shower wall. 

“He does,” Asher used his hands to scrub David’s skin instead of a loofa or a cloth. Too rough on his already sensitive skin. “He just doesn’t like it when he’s already…” 

“Overstimulated.” You supplied. “He’s overstimulated, baby. You know what that looks like.” 

You were blessed with pretty cool parents who recognized exactly the genetics they were passing on to their child. When you didn’t start talking when you were meant to, they had you tested. You were diagnosed early and you were taught some pretty incredible coping techniques. 

But you still got overstimulated. You still had the occasional, proper meltdown under enough stress. Asher knew that, and he knew just how to help. 

That was probably why, when presented with David’s predicament, his body took over. He brought him home. He lowered his voice, calmed his constant energy. He made him comfortable, gave him what he needed. Maybe Ash and David had never called this what it was, but this was something that they had done before, and something that Asher was incredible at. You could suddenly place where he got all of the practice. 

Asher scratched his fingers through David’s short-cropped hair, shampoo trailing down his muscled, tense back. You shielded his eyes while Ash washed the soap out. You held him steady at his waist as Asher patted him dry with one of your extra-plush towels. Ash covered his ears while you blasted his hair with your dryer. You knew that, as unpleasant as the loud noise was, a wet pillowcase would be far worse in the long run. 

Three sets of pajamas instead of two. Three pairs of socked feet shuffling from the bathroom to the bedroom. Three bodies, crowded into your bed. 

David was pressed between the two of you, his warmth and yours and Asher’s mingling under the sheets. He huffed out a breath, eyes closing as he rubbed his cheek against your silk pillowcase. 

“There you go, big guy,” you mumbled, brushing the too-fluffy strands of his hair off his forehead. Asher’s arm snaked around him and pressed him close, David’s back to his chest. 

“We’ve got you.” Ash said softly, lips pressed into David’s skin. His green eyes flashed to you in the low light that leaked through the flowy curtains. Exhausted and drained, yeah, but still alert, still tuned in, and still locked on you. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You replied. “We’ve got you.”

You didn’t know who Ash was talking about out of the three of you. You didn’t know if it mattered. The digital clock on Ash’s nightstand blinked at you, harsh and red. 

Baaabe knew what they heard. They woke up to their husband tossing, turning and whimpering softly in his sleep. They gently shook him awake “Ash, baby, you’re having a nightmare.” Their voice was soft against his skin as they kissed his shoulder.

The beta woke up with a soft look in his eyes. Fear rang throughout his body for a second, only to be replaced with visible solace. “I’m sorry Baaabe. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Baaabe just shushes him softly and kisses his temple “It’s no problem, love. I’m glad I can be awake to comfort you.” They rub his back gently, but it’s left to no avail. The man was practically shaking like a leaf in their arms. Baaabe smiles softly at this, not in any way teasing him, though.

“Sweetie, would you like me to read to you?” They look up at his big brown eyes and he nods softly at their words. Baaabe gets up out of bed to grab the book they were currently reading off their dresser.

“Did you want me to start from the beginning or from where I’m at?” Baaabe’s voice asks with an ameliorate tone. “Just wherever you’re at, Baaabe. I don’t want you to lose your place.” Asher expressed in a now sleepier tone.

He was used to this. He loved when his mate read to him, it somehow always did the trick, no matter how interesting the book was to him. Baaabe opened their book and started reading off the page they last read.

Within about twenty minutes, Asher was curled up into his mate with droopy eyes, fighting not to close them so he could still hear them speak. Their tone whispered tenderly in his ears and it made his heart do a somersault.

[ ] Milo spends more on Aggro's food than Asher spends on fruits and vegetables (he eats none, unless Babe forces him too, the man has the most picky eater vibes ever) (while living with David, he had to hide veggies in sauces like parents do for their kids just so Ash could eat something with nutrients)

[ ] But he will willingly down redbulls, matching his intake level with Tank's/Darlin's (canon I think, in Sam's video he speaks about Darlin having to start a day with one. Asher's favourite redbull flavour is blue edition blueberry according to Erik's Reductive Audio)

[ ] Treasure works as a dealer/bartender in a casino - Porter can always drive them to work or pick them up without much worry about the sunlight as they work nights. They hate gambling (dealer as in the one who gives cards by the table, is it really the name for the job? Google translator told me so)

[ ] Freddie is shorter than Bright (just a little bit) (he's still tall - just like the Milo situation though no one gives him grief about it)

[ ] With the help of Angel, David has slowly returned to his old self, from the time when Gabe was still alive (his pack got used to his all bark and almost mean behaviour so it was nice seeing him back) (judged by the talks he had with Milo after Inversion and Ash in the wedding video when they were getting ready)

[ ] Darlin bawled their eyes out at the wedding (they are not the emotional one but just seeing their friends/family that accepted them back after all the shit they put tem through being so happy, they couldn't help but cry.

[ ] Babe is a tattoo artist and did some on Tank (they even offered Sam to tattoo him but he has no appeal for them on himself. On Darlin though? That man is feral for anything associated with his mate

[ ] He has a cowboy hat, it's a well known fact. But I imagine Ash always asks him to dress as Dante from DMC for Halloween because of it (and also begs him to do the dance)

[ ] Hush is Lachlan Sad Rat Jellycat coded. Or Galumphous Seal. He's just really jellycat plushies coded (I had to include him despite not knowing much about his storyline, I saw the jellycat online and it clicked to me)

[ ] Angel has a tramp stamp (not sure of what) (Babe did it)

[ ] Milo hates cardio exercises (still is the fastest wolf out of the pack)

[ ] Sweetheart's favourite fruit is pomegranate. For Milo, they would, without any hesitation, without any mess left (they're a master when it comes to peeling it and choosing the ripest one)

[ ] As stereotypical as it could be, Porter loves red wine. Especially when it's sipped with Treasure by his side on the couch in Treasure's house, legs thrown over his lap. Preferably drank straight from the bottle. He's a gentleman, they can have the first sip though.

[ ] Treasure loves cheesecake.

[ ] Babe is a plant parent - their and Ash's apartment is filled with pots all over it. And one bucket that is home to a huge monstera Ash is not allowed to be nearby - while repotting, he accidentally broke some leaves on it

[ ] Tank/Darlin is a Markiplier fan and watched all his Five Nights at Freddy's videos (projecting much, has anyone seen Iron Lung and wants to talk about it?)

[ ] Bright has a fish tank in their room, they are treating the fish as their therapist (its name is William) (William the King does not know about it)

[ ] Freddie is always overfeeding the said fish

[ ] Freddie is also terrified of the fish at the same time, he says its got weird eyes (it doesn't. He's just weirded out by it for some reason)

[ ] Vincent still has his crown (waiting for nothing, he does not plan on being a Solaire again, not when it means doing things he's against as) (the crown acts as a paper weight on their coffee table, pressing down Lovely's magazines)

[ ] Bright left behind a younger sibling

[ ] Frederick feels like Bright could never forgive him for the decision he made for them (he's not forgetting himself) (in my head, their story goes bitter and bad before there's any sliver of comfort)

[ ] Milo gives the best hugs but it's Aggro who gets most of them

[ ] David once had a pet turtle, nowadays, he has no desire for pets (he has a whole pack of wolves, it's more than enough)

[ ] Even if Sam doesn't need to eat, he still enjoys making and eating French toasts (he has a bit of sweet tooth but not too much)

[ ] Vincent and Lovely go out dancing/clubbing regularly and are the couple on the dance floor

[ ] Porter judges people by what kind of tea they drink (British boy almost got a heart attack when Treasure pulled out the American way of making tea just to spite him after a small argument they had)(he apologised immediately just to prevent the catastrophe)

[ ] Sam has dimples when he smiles.