#lewcest

Usually, you're more attentive during your weekly move nights. Cracking jokes, groaning at the characters' stupid decisions, or blinking back tears whenever a scene gets even the slightest bit emotional, but tonight you're quiet, in your own head. You don't even make a fuss or call Cleo, your cat, a traitor when she jumps from your lap to Bob’s. Something's definitely up with you.

At first, Bob thinks maybe you're missing Rocco. The alpha was barely home today, off with his buddies at the bar straight after work. While you spent your days helping stray cats and dogs at the animal shelter, Rocco spent most of his days under the hood of a car, covered in grease and oil as he fixed engines and did oil changes. Unwinding with a couple of cold ones at the bar wasn't atypical for the alphas' Friday nights, though, so it must be something else. 

You and Bob were the ones who pushed him to go out more after all. On Fridays, you and Bob watched movies, while Rocco got to hang out with his guys. Rocco often told Bob stories about how much of a loser he was before he met you, spending all his free time getting shitfaced with his friends until he found a cat off the side of the road and brought her to your shelter, falling for you the moment he laid eyes on you. That same cat he took to you was curled up in Bob's lap, purring as loud as a newly oiled car engine.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Huh?” You blink, no longer hypnotized by that spot in the wall like it was the most interesting thing on Earth. Bob nuzzles his nose into your cheek, wide, adoring eyes staring at you as he waits for you to answer. “Sorry. Yeah, just... just...” 

Bob raises his brow at you, curious. You sigh, leaning closer to him, seeking comfort. “Just work was rougher than usual…” Bob waits for you to continue, ignoring the movie still playing as he shifts his entire focus on you. “We got a litter of newborn kittens today and -” Bob perks up when he hears about the kittens, but then his face turns serious when your voice breaks. “But about half of them didn't make it and…” you sniffle, blinking back tears that are threatening to fall. 

Bob turns and hugs you instantly, trying to comfort you the best way he could, “I’m sorry, I know that must've been horrible. I don't know how you deal with it.” A small smile breaks through your frown when you feel Bob nosing at your gland, scenting you. He’s such an affectionate omega, always knows what to do to make you feel better, even a little. 

“Yeah, I don't know either.” Bob squeezes you tighter. He’s ready to ask if you want to just cuddle for the rest of the night. That he can stay up with you until Rocco comes home, it wouldn't be the first time your mate found the two of you in your room, burrowed together under the blankets. But before he can, you get up. Bob bites back a whine, not wanting you to go, but he doesn’t really have a good enough excuse for you to stay. “I actually think I'm gonna call it a night.”

Bob can’t help the disgruntled noise that comes out from the back of his throat. “But the movie’s barely even halfway through.”

You try to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “Sorry, I know, I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

Bob deflates, but nods. You've obviously been through it today; it’s selfish of him to still want your company when you're obviously so drained. His face falls forward, hair covering his eyes as he mutters, “Oh, okay yeah, that’s okay. Understandable. I’m sorry, I was being selfish. I know you must want time to yourself, especially after today. Sorry.” 

“Hey,” You poke his cheek, and then poke it over and over again until he looks back at you. “You're not being selfish. You know I love our movie nights whenever it can be just us. No Rocco snoring in our ears fifteen minutes in, just not tonight.” 

That calms Bob down enough for him to settle back into his space on the couch, biting back a chuckle at your comment about your mate. Rocco is always the one to fall asleep 15 minutes into a movie. He says he's sorry. He tries to stay up, but the moment he gets too comfortable, all cozy and warm under the blankets with the both of you curled up at his sides, he’s snoring before the opening credits even roll in. Bob shrugs, trying to act nonchalant as he scratches Cleo behind her left ear, “It’s okay, I haven't really been paying attention anyway.” Because I was worried about you.

You stare at him, analyzing. In the three months Bob’s lived with you, you've come to know him better than the back of your hand. His little tics that show up whenever he’s annoyed or sad, and right now, you can tell he’s disappointed. If only you were that smart when it came to noticing his feelings for you. 

You ruffle his hair, chuckling when he lets out a ‘hey!’, but he doesn't attempt to push you back. Instead, he leans into your hand, very similar to how Cleo does when she wants pets, “Just a raincheck, yeah? Tomorrow we can watch two movies to make up for it.”

“Only if you choose the other one.”

“Deal.” 

Satisfied chirps erupt from the omega, who nuzzles your hand one last time before you leave, Cleo jumping from his lap to follow you out. The moment you’re out of sight, Bob flops down completely on the couch, stuffing his head into the pillow you were just using. Immediately, he sinks further into the couch. Your scent is so comforting, it’s almost like you’re still here, lying with him, holding him.

It isn’t long before the omega falls asleep like that, with his nose stuffed in your pillow. He isn’t paying attention to the movie now that you’re gone. His mind is full of you. Your smile, the thing he wishes he could see every morning he wakes up and every night he goes to bed, the warmth of your palm as you held him in your hands just moments ago, the way you said his name so softly as you bid him goodnight. With your name on his lips, sleep finally takes him.

---

The next time Bob's semi-conscious, instead of being on the couch, he’s moving, in the arms of the alpha who smells of leather and cigarettes. Bob sleepily whines, hands tightening around Rocco’s jacket. The alpha gently shushes him, turning his head slightly so he can reach down and press a comforting kiss on the top of the omega's head. “S’just me. Taking ya to bed.”

Bob can smell the alcohol in his breath, and it makes his nose scrunch up in disgust. Rocco sees it immediately. “Sorry, I was chewing some gum before I came home. I hoped that would take care of the smell.” Bob’s too tired to respond and just snuggles further into Rocco’s broad, warm chest. He can endure the smell if it means he gets to stay in Rocco's big, strong arms longer.

Gently, Rocco lays Bob down on his bed. His bed welcomes him back home with plush softness, his body melting into the cold comforter that immediately cools the warmth under his skin. Bob always ran hot, but he liked being wrapped up in some sort of blanket for comfort reasons; that’s why you got this specific one for him in the first place. Rocco makes sure the omegas' pillow is propped up just right so he doesn’t wake up with a busted neck before tucking him in.

Once he’s satisfied Bob's comfortable, he turns to leave, ready to slide into bed beside you and whisper about how adorable Bob looked when he found him cuddling your pillow on the couch as he slept and how much he liked seeing Bob wearing his shirt to bed. You and Rocco are practically head over heels for the omega, wishing nothing more than to officially add him to your relationship and pack, but you don't want him to feel forced into a situation. After learning about his past, it was the last thing you wanted to do. So you decided to love him from a distance, until, if ever, Bob made his feelings known.

Before Rocco can even step towards the door, a weak hand grabs his.

“Stay.”

That makes the alpha pause. The way Bob said that was so soft, almost vulnerable. Almost as if, even in his sleep-like state, he was still unsure whether he should ask. The alpha's pupils widen the longer he looks at Bob. So ethereal, so soft. With his head buried into a fluffy pillow, soft, lush blankets covering him. You know what, what's the harm? 

Rocco opens his mouth, ready to slide off his jacket and slide right beside him, but then Bob's hand falls, and quiet snores fill the room. Rocco lets out a chuckle, careful not to wake Bob, as he caresses his cheek. “Maybe next time, Robby.” He stays there for a minute longer, just watching as Bob's chest rises and falls, before quietly slipping out of the room, the door shutting behind him with an almost silent ‘click’.

---

Bob’s favorite time of the day with you two is weekend mornings. Bob likes to sleep in, often rolling out of bed just before ten. You two are always up before him thanks to Cleo. She wakes you two up at 7 am on the dot most days, meowing nonstop until you both get out of bed and head down to the kitchen to feed her. Cleo runs a very strict program around here when it comes to her food.

But this morning, neither you nor Rocco are outside to greet him. No good morning hug or affectionate kiss on the cheek before you ask him how he slept and whether he wants anything for breakfast. It was just Cleo, rubbing against his legs as she meowed at him.

Bob crosses his arms, pouting. This is so unlike you two. He kind of wants to go to your room and see what's up, but he refrains from intruding on you two. After what you told him about your day at work, maybe you just want a quiet morning.

After eating a quick bowl of cereal, Bob goes back to his room, bored out of his mind without you two to bug. He plays a game of solitaire, finishes reading the last couple of chapters of Little Women he had left, and plays with his feline companion for a while before she even gets bored without you two. It’s when he’s halfway through the first Lord of the Rings that one of you finally makes an appearance at his door.

Bob is lying on his bed, head propped up on a pillow, as he totally doesn't ogle Aragorn fighting off some orcs when he hears a knock at his door. Bob smells the alpha before he sees him. Rocco’s familiar scent of leather and cigarettes fills the omega's senses as he pokes his head in through the door.

“Hey.” The alpha smiles at Bob, but it isn’t a smile Bob was used to seeing on the alpha’s face. Not warm, not teasing, but apprehensive. Rocco stands in the doorway like he doesn’t know if he should come in or not. Even though the alpha let himself in last night to carry the omega to bed, this was still Bob’s space, and neither of you wanted him to feel like it wasn’t.

Bob lets out a curious chirp, noticing Rocco’s awkward body language, and pauses the movie to give the alpha his full attention. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing, just…” Rocco scratches the back of his head, looking like he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say, “Just um, here.” Rocco walks closer and hands Bob a wad of cash. At least a couple hundred, if not a thousand. “This is for you.”

The wad of cash feels so heavy in Bob's hands. Bob tilts his head to the side and frowns, “What is this for?”

“Just - uh - for you to get a hotel room for - uh - a couple days.”

The bundle of cash Bob was playing with freezes in his hands. The omega gulps, feeling his mouth dry up. He should’ve known this was going to happen; it was too good to be true. Nothing ever works out for him like he wants. “Are you kicking me out?”

Rocco’s eyes go wide, and he immediately starts shaking his head. He gets closer, sitting on the bed and holding the hand Bob didn’t have the cash in, “No! No, God no! Shit, that’s not what I – what we- it’s just – shit -” Rocco sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. So much for being fucking head alpha. “We just need the house to ourselves for a couple of days, that’s all.”

That doesn’t stop the pit of anxiety in the omega's stomach from flaring. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Um… not exactly wrong just…” Rocco takes a minute before finally sighing. There was no way to beat around the bush; Bob was going to find out anyway when he came back home and smelled your arousal all over the house. “Her rut.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait... you didn't -

“Her rut came earlier than we were expecting. We were gonna go away so you wouldn’t have to put up with the smell and sound, and just so you’d feel more comfortable. We didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in any way -”

Rocco keeps talking, but Bob isn’t listening.

You… wanted him to leave? You didn’t even think to ask him?

To not even ask him for help, to aid you during your rut, made him want to curl up in a ball and cry himself to sleep. It’s irrational, the disappointment. He shouldn’t be disappointed. He’s just some omega you two took pity on after seeing him in a bar one night. When you offered him a warm bed to sleep in and a roof over his head, Bob was skeptical.

He’d been on the street since he was a teen and had dealt with his fair share of creepy alphas and betas looking to take advantage of an omega in need, but after talking more with you both that night, he knew you weren’t like that. It didn't take long for the omega to find himself putting his complete trust in you both and, inevitably, falling for you.

Neither of you had had your rut, and he hadn’t had his heat since he’d been here. He knew it’d come up soon and hoped that when it did, you’d open your hearts and bed to him. And it’s not like Bob didn’t try.

He flirted with you both, and he really wasn't subtle about it. Batting his lashes at you, being touchier than just the usual friends were. He scented you before you left for work, asking for you both to scent him before he went off on his own to explore the city. Stealing your clothes is something you two expected at this point. Bob always had one of Rocco’s leather jackets or one of your pajama shirts around and wore them out and about and around the house. He did just about everything an omega ready for courting did, and you two chivalrous idiots didn’t do anything about it.

Bob knew you two liked him. Rocco’s alpha persona turned into a gooey, stuttering mess whenever Bob so much as praised his paintings, and Bob could hear how your heart skipped a beat when he cuddled up against you on the couch while you two waited up for Rocco to get home from the bar with his buddies. But he knew you two were too kind for your own good, always stressing about making sure Bob was comfortable. At first, he appreciated the sentiment, but now, the very sentiment that drew him to you, was cock blocking him.

But no, Bob wasn’t going to let this go. The Bob from six months ago would have just quietly accepted defeat, taken the money, and never pressed on. But Bob has grown since then. You and Rocco gave him the stability and companionship he’s never known, given him the space to grow and become his own, never holding his past or gender against him. Bob Reynolds was going to do something he’s never done before: stake his claim.

“And we just - Bob? Bob, are you okay?”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

That question makes Rocco pause, caught off guard by the tone in Bob’s voice. “Ask? What -”

“Why didn’t you ask if I wanted to join?” Before Rocco can even think of a response, Bob sputters out, “I know you two like me, Ro. Now I’m asking again, why didn’t you ask me?”

Eyes wide, Rocco stutters. This was the last reaction he was expecting to get from the omega, “We- we didn’t want you to feel - You don’t have to do this to stay here.”

Bob can’t help but roll his eyes. Does he have to take Rocco by the shoulders and shake him as he yells, ‘I KNOW THAT YOU IDIOT JESUS CHRIST’ or what?

“Well, we know there’s a… shit, what did she call it? A… a power imbalance. You know with us taking you in and we uh, we didn’t want -” With a sigh and roll of his eyes, Bob cuts him off with a kiss.  Rocco immediately kisses him back, one arm wrapping around the omega’s waist and one hand cupping his cheek, holding him.

Bob pulls back first, face hot and lips red, “Enough with the chivalry. I know you two aren’t letting me stay here for a fuck. Now, let me take care of her; she’s been waiting long enough for you, right?”

With one nod from the alpha, Bob tosses the bundle of cash out of his hand, not watching as it rolls out onto the bed, and walks out, dragging a flustered Rocco behind him. It takes them less than 15 seconds to march down the hallways to your room, the scent of your arousal getting stronger the closer they get.

When Bob opens your door, he nearly stumbles to the floor when the scent of your rut hits him at full force. Your vanilla bean scent is usually light and subtle, which is unusual for an alpha, but during your rut, it seems to be dialed up to the max, overpowering any other scent in the room.

You’re not quite naked, still wearing your underwear and one of Rocco’s oversized shirts. Your skin glistens with sweat as you hump one of your pillows, your face stuffed in a sweater and – wait. That’s his sweater. Bob’s sweater. The one he thought he lost a week ago. You had it. And you were using it to get off on his scent.

“Ro? Ro-” You gasp, stopping whatever you were doing and getting off the bed when you see it’s Bob at the door. “Bob!? What are you -” You stop again when you see Rocco behind him, your mate looking disheveled and half scared at the tone in your voice. “Rocco, what the hell is he doing here? Bob, you gotta go-”

He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his cheek, “No.”

You don’t have it in you to pull away. It takes all your control as it is to not pounce on Bob and stuff him full of your cock. “Bob, this is not the time. My rut is – Oh god shit, it’s picking up fast – Bob, you just gotta go sweetie, for a couple days -”

“No, I already talked to Ro; I’m staying.” Not wanting to go through the same conversation he just had with Rocco- which he can tell is where it’s going based on that look on your face- Bob decides to stop the conversation and just fast-forward to the kissing part of your night.

“Let me help,” he whispers against your lips, “I want you. Ro said you wanted to send me away, but please don’t; let me take care of you…”

“Oh Bob...” You shudder, composure melting away as you’re hit with the soft, plush feeling of his lips on yours. The kiss starts off slow, curious. Your hands hover above his hips, not sure where they should go, but Bob answers that for you, keeping his mouth on you as he pulls your wrists, putting one hand on his hips and the other on his ass. You squeeze his cheek, not even meaning to; it was just instinctive, and clutch him tight. Bob moans into your mouth, rutting his hip against you. 

The energy in the room shifts after that. Maybe because your rut finally kicks in at full steam, or maybe because the longer Bob kisses you, the stronger the scent of his arousal is. That intimate, curious kiss turns crazed and desperate. Your teeth graze along Bob's chapped lips, pulling at his bottom lip. The little whimper that leaves him makes you grab him by the waist and pull him to the bed, your mind frenzied with want.

“Alpha…” Bob whines so sweetly when you press him against the bed and climb on top of him, scenting his neck and running your hands down the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Rocco finally acts when he sees that, sliding Bob's bottoms off in quick succession before stripping down to nothing himself. Rocco’s tempted to start lapping at his pussy, to be greedy and finally get a taste of the omega he’s been thinking about since you met him. His lips are already shimmering with slick, practically begging to be touched. And as much as Rocco wants to, he knows you need it more than him right now.

“Sweetheart…” You pull away from Bob, eyes full of fire and desire, “Come here. It’s your rut; you should get your turn with him first.” Rocco doesn’t have to tell you that twice.

You quickly switch places, and when you finally feast your eyes on his pussy, you want to drive forward and spear him on your cock, but you still want to play with him a little, at least while your mind’s still somewhat clear. Your hand glides down to his lips, goosebumps littering the omega's flesh as you do. Bob’s so wet, there's no tightness at all as your finger practically slides in him. Bob's hips jolt up, giving you the perfect opportunity to lean down and engulf his cute little clit between your lips before adding in another finger. The noise he lets out is delicious enough to send any alpha into an animalistic rut.

Rocco cups his cheeks with both hands and nuzzles their noses together. Wet lips attack Bob's jaw, leaving a trail of saliva as Rocco kisses up and down his jaw and cheek, before finally landing on his lips. Rocco dominates the kiss, tongue exploring every crevice of Bob's mouth as he drinks him in with every breath. And then, Rocco pulls away. 

Bob nearly hisses, ready to pull Rocco’s tongue back in his mouth, but then his jaw drops the moment Rocco moves, and he’s eye to eye with Rocco’s cock. It’s standing up against his stomach, hard and leaking precum, begging to be nestled deep in the omega's throat. Bob's reaction makes the alpha chuckle. It almost reminds him of yours the first time you two fucked. “Like what you see, Robby?”

The stupidly horny omega doesn’t even have the brain cells to say yes; Bob just looks at him with those pleading blue eyes, begging for a taste, and who’s Rocco to deny the pretty little thing what he so desires?

Bob moans as the head of Rocco’s cock brushes against his lips. He can’t help but press light kisses against the tip, sending shivers down the alpha’s spine. Rocco’s hands wrap around the back of Bob's head as he shoves half of his cock in Bob’s inviting mouth.

If Bob were religious, he’d be praying to the almighty right now for giving him the ability to suck cock with no gag reflex. You and Rocco are big. Like… really big. He knew you were, but seeing your cocks up close sent a gush of slick down his thighs, like he was no better than an omega in heat. His measly 3-inch cock is nothing compared to yours, and he couldn’t wait to feel you both stretch him open.

“You know how many times she’s come from thinking of you? We both have. Starts thinking about your pretty pussy wrapped around our cocks, and she just goes buck wild.”

You stop your attack on the omega’s clit, coming up for air to chastise your mate, “Rocco!”

The alpha chuckles, pulling his dick out of Bob's mouth to smear some precum on his lips before thrusting back in, “No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart; m’sure Robby’s done the same, haven’t you, darling?”

All you two get is a choked groan, Bob’s response drowned out by Rocco thrusting himself further down the omega's throat.

Your exploration of Bob's body leads you from his clit to his little cocklet. It’s so small you could probably sit the whole thing in your mouth, and it wouldn’t even make you gag. But that’s not the part of him that’s got your full attention tonight: “God, that’s a pretty little pussy. M’ gonna go in okay, baby? You like the sound of that, Robby? Want me to fuck you on my cock?”

His gurgling and slight nod of his head is all the answer you need. In one fell swoop, you thrust your hips forward, your dick welcomed home in Bob's wet, soapy cunt.

Grunts and the smell of sweet arousal fill the room. Bob gets so lost in the feeling between the two of you, filling him up. You quickly find your rhythm. Every thrust is timed perfectly to send Bob into a haze, as his mind turns to mush. He can feel the buildup in his stomach pretty quickly, but he doesn’t want it to end so fast. Even though he knows you’ll be fucking for all hours of the day for the next three days, he needs his first time cuming to be on both of your cocks

He slides off Rococo cock with a wet pop. A string of saliva and precum connects the two of them until Rocco wipes it away with his thumb, eyes full of concern as Bob heaves out, “No, no, wait.”

You start to pull out, to check on him, but Bob doesn't let you, wrapping his legs around your waist to keep you inside him. “Hey baby,” Rocco holds his face in his hands, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Not yet. I- I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Okay sweetheart, we can go slower -”

“No – I just - I want both of you. Inside, at the same time.” Rocco is already shaking his head, but Bob’s not going down without a fight. “Please! I can take it”

Calloused hands turn the omega's head to the side, Rocco’s blue eyes laced with concern, “Robby… we do. Believe me that image is…” he shakes his head, feeling his dick throb at the idea of Bob filled the brim with both of your cock, “We don’t want to break you -”

“You won’t!” Bob cuts in, frantic. “I promise.” His cheeks flush a cherry red, neck on fire as he admits, “I’ve been… um… practicing…”

It takes a full fifteen seconds before it clicks for you two. The surprise lasts less than a second before you chuckle, shaking your head at him, “Omega, omega, omega.” Bob blushes harder, trying to hide away from your gushing, “You’re truly adorable, you know that?”

A lighthearted swat makes you grin even wider. Rocco cocks a brow at him. “Oh yeah? With what?”

“Um… uh - Ah!” Bob gasps, throwing his head back as he feels Rocco’s finger slide up beside your cock, stretching him more. If Bob thought he felt full just with your cock, he’s not ready for what’s to come. 

You let out a shaky moan, thrusting up further into the omega when you feel Rocco’s girthy fingers against you. Rocco's chest blooms with pride at the sound, his mate and omega both barely holding on by just his fingers. “Come on, Robby,” Rocco coos, smirking as his finger curls to the right, eliciting a choked gasp from the omega between you two. “Tell us, what did you use to stretch your little pussy open while thinking of us?”

Bob moans, head falling between the crook of your neck when Rocco adds in another finger and begins to scissor him open. “Um, my uh, I have two dildos, one i-is si-six inches and the other is – ugh, um, twelve inches, I- Ah! I’d try them, uhhh, at the same time…”

The smirk on Rocco's face grows wider and wider with every word that stutters from the trembling omega's lips. Rocco stretches him open for a little longer, curling his fingers every couple of seconds before Bob could get used to the stretch, dragging his nails along his velvety walls whenever his breath almost evened out. Once you both deem him ready, Rocco pulls his fingers out.

Bob whines at the loss, making grabby hands at Rocco, wanting, no, needing him back in. The alpha chuckles and brings his glistening fingers to Bob's mouth. Bob doesn't hesitate, his tongue darting out to lick up every last bit of his slick, like it was a forbidden nectar he’s been dying to taste. Finally, Rocco pulls back and aligns his cock next to yours, “Alright, I’m gonna go in slow, just breathe for me Bob, just breathe.”

Bob nods, gripping onto you tighter and hiding his face deeper into the crook of your neck as he braces for impact. You lift Bob off your cock a little to give Rocco room, and once the head of his cock forces its way in, you slowly let gravity take control.

The stretch is unlike anything Bob's ever felt before. Yeah, he’s fucked his fair share of alphas before, but never like this. Even the toys he played with didn’t stretch him like this. Didn’t fill him so deep. He feels like he’s being split in two, like he’ll be lucky if he can ever walk again after this, but really, he’ll take the injury day in and day out if it means he can always feel this. This satisfaction, this pleasurable bliss.

You are barely holding on. You have to bite down on your lip to not start bucking wildly into Bob once you feel Rocco’s cock slide in. In all your time as a mated pair, neither of you have experienced this before. Never have you invited another into your bed, especially not like this. Despite the dirty, sinful act, it was also the most intimate form of affection you could show each other. Complete and utter trust in your mate and the stretched-out omega between you. And you fight like hell against instinct so you don't break him before the fun truly begins.

Tongue lolling out of his mouth and drool dripping down his chin, Bob pants like a dog in heat when you’re both fully sheathed inside him. Yours and Rocco’s dick are nestled tightly together between Bob's stretched-out lips.

You all take a moment to compose yourselves, getting used to the tight, stuffed feeling of Bob's throbbing, warm pussy. Bob nearly cums when he looks down at himself. His usually slim stomach is bulging; the outline of yours and Rocco’s monster alpha cocks is clear as day. Rocco kisses his cheek nonstop, murmuring words of encouragement as the omega squirms in his hold.

The moment you start thrusting, Bob sees stars. You take turns; when you slide out, Rocco slides in and vice versa. A perfect, delicate rhythm. But then, the pleasure gets to you all. Slow, gentle thrusts turn frantic and wild, both you and your mate chasing ecstasy as the omega unravels between you.

You pepper the side of his face closer to you with kisses, the taste of salt coating your tongue as you lick up his fallen tears. Bob looks especially delectable with his face all wet from sweat and tears from being pounded by your cocks, “Look at you, being so good for us, taking us so well.”

Rocco nips at his ear when he feels Bob try to clench around you both, but he’s stretched so wide, it barely does anything. “What a needy little omega you are; couldn’t even wait for us to take turns.”

Bob cries, nodding his head, “N-needed you! H-had to have you both, I-I couldn’t -” the rest of the words get lost in a high-pitched mewl when Rocco’s hand comes down and starts playing with Bob's swollen clit.

“Ro!” Bob gasps out your name next, face flushed pretty pink as he feels both your knots swelling. With one last choked cry of both your names, he sees white, slick gushing out between his thighs and wetting both your dicks. Bob’s dead weight between you two as you continue to sloppily thrust into him

Instinct is screaming at you to mark the omega who’s nearly passed out on your cock, and Rocco notices. The way you nose at Bob’s neck, nip at the omega's shoulder, and lick your lips like you couldn’t wait to devour your meal as you stare at his neck. Right when you’re about to cum, he sticks his arm between your lips and without even needing to think twice, you bite.

An involuntary whimper leaves Bob as both your knots catch on his pussy, flooding him with your seed. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, little whines and shaky breaths leaving him as he gets used to being more filled than ever before.

Bob passes out on your cocks. The emotional and physical extremities too much for him. Protectively, your hand draws circles around his bloated stomach, mind close to feral the longer you scent him. You’ve got a potential mate defenseless, passed out, and full of you; every sound your hyper senses pick up makes low, territorial growls leave you.

The next time Bob wakes up, it’s to Rocco’s moans in his ears as you thrust into the alpha, making him push his dick further into Bob. You go at it for hours, taking turns fucking them both. Rocco’s grateful to Bob to no end for being able to handle you for longer than he ever could.

Whenever either of your ruts would hit, you could only keep up with each other for so long. Your alpha bodies are not made to withstand and bounce back as easily as an omega's during an alpha's rut. So as Bob lies on his stomach, little “uhs” leaving him as you pounded him into the bed, Rocco took his hand, brought it to his lips, a silent thanks to the omega. All Bob does to show he understands Rocco’s thanks is his fingers twitching in the alpha’s hand.

It takes two days for your rut to finally break.

The three of you are a messy pile of limbs on the bed. Rocco’s asleep on his side with one arm thrown over Bob's back. Bob's on his stomach, face down in a pillow with one knee pointed out to give relief to his hips since you bent him in ways he never thought his body could bend before. You fell asleep almost halfway on top of Bob, your cheek nuzzled comfortably into his back.

You wake up first, groaning when you try to stretch your legs and are greeted with your muscles screaming at you in retaliation. Fucking for days nonstop is a workout after all, especially when you’re the one topping.

Awe fills your chest the moment you turn your head to the side and see Bob and Rocco. You could get used to seeing this every morning and night. You shift again, reaching for your phone to try and get a picture of your two sleeping lovers, but it looks like one of them isn’t as asleep as you thought.

Bob whimpers, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. “Stay.”

Rocco stirs awake at his whimper, alert and ready to go help when he hears the omega in distress. But once he sees it’s just you two, he relaxes. Rocco’s a man of few words in the morning, so he just grunts in 'good morning', watching you.

Your fingers run through Bob's curly hair, brushing it out of his eyes as you reassure him, “M’not going anywhere, baby, promise.”

That satisfies the omega enough, it seems, but just when he’s getting comfortable again, he feels you tense, and Bob doesn’t like that at all. He noses at your cheek, frowning, “What?”

You shake your head, “Nothing, nothing, it’s fine, just…” Bob nods for you to go on, waiting patiently for you to find the right words. “Just, we still don’t want you to feel stuck here. That money is still yours, for you, so that if anything happens, you can have something to fall back on. Money we can’t touch and-”

A tongue in your mouth interrupts your rambling. Bob crawls into your lap, lips not leaving yours until you’re left flustered and tongue-tied, completely forgetting about what you were trying to say just moments ago.

Bob grins, delighted to have rendered you speechless once again. “Cute to think you can ever get rid of me.” That grin grows wider when you shy away from him; Rocco can’t help but laugh before asking where his kiss was. And who was Bob to deny him that?

This is what you and Rocco have been waiting for. The opportunity to finally start growing your pack. Bob was basically already part of it, but now it’s official. Before you know it, your pack will have more members than ever thought possible, but for now, you rest. This is only the beginning for you three; time to enjoy the quiet now while it lasts before a certain beta with a golden chain and wild eyes wrestles his way into your hearts next.

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Rhett had taken a temporary job with a local cattle ranch, and he had been offered a generous sum of money to travel to their second operation over in Montana and fill in during a cattle drive, because the ranch was short-handed. 

It had taken him away for nearly a month, leaving Miles to hold down the fort at home. He had his own responsibilities to tend to. His quilting business kept him busy, and he’d been selling baked goods at the farmer’s market on the weekends. There were many things to occupy his time, but even as he stayed busy, he continued to think about how much he missed his Rhett. 

Usually, on market days, Rhett would be there with Miles, selling small, intricate figurines he had whittled out of wood. The Abbott-Miller booth was a popular one. Miles’ baked goods always sold out, Rhett’s wooden figures were always in high demand. And people loved the men responsible for creating the goods. The sweet, mild-mannered young man with the mysterious scars that decorated the left side of his face. The stoic cowboy who looked at that young man as if he’d hung the stars in the sky. 

The elderly ladies that frequented the booth were the sweetest. And when Rhett suddenly stopped showing up to run the booth alongside Miles, they grew concerned. 

“Where is that handsome husband of yours?” Asked Melinda, the kind old woman who was no bigger than five foot one, who always showed up early to snag Miles’ sourdough loaves before they sold out. Cranberry orange and jalapeño cheddar were her favorite. 

“Oh, Rhett had to go out of town for work. He’ll be back soon!” Miles explained, as he handed her the individually wrapped loaves, branded with a sticker that read Rodeo Royale Baked Goods. 

“Well you tell him I missed him! He needs to hurry on home, you look lost without him, you poor dear.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile softly at her, the apples of his cheeks dusting pink. “I’ll tell him. It’s definitely not the same without him here,” came his honest reply. 

Their banter continued for a moment more, before Melinda soon moved on to another booth and the next customer stepped up to browse. Miles couldn’t hide his joy. How far he’d come, in the years since he’d first met his husband. From having spent so long keeping his attraction to men a secret, for fear of judgment from both God and man, to now living without fear, proud to show off his relationship. 

Rhett had changed his life for the better. Miles would sing that from the rooftops to anyone who would listen. 

Now that he was gone, albeit just for a few weeks, Miles felt like a limb was missing. He and Rhett worked together in all things. It was just how they operated best. Around the homestead, they usually weren’t far from one another. Rhett in the stable, feeding the horses. Miles at the adjacent chicken coop, feeding the chickens. Miles tending the garden, Rhett mending the corral fence a few feet away. 

Always in each other’s orbit, gravitating toward one another, both intentionally and unintentionally. 

Of course, Miles still functioned just fine without him. He could take care of their homestead and keep up with everything that needed done, but it still wasn’t the same without his cowboy. His company as of late had been their farm animals, and his elderly cat Matilda, who followed him around meowing up a storm, as if she knew he needed some company.

Some days, Miles would drive over to the Abbott ranch, where he would enjoy a morning cup of coffee, along with a slice of homemade bread and fresh jam, on the porch with Cecilia. He had developed a sweet bond with his mother-in-law, something he’d never had with his own mother. It was incredibly healing for him. 

But even as he filled his days with activity and family visits, there was always that ache in his heart, that longing for Rhett’s return. And now, finally, he was coming home. 

Miles had been bustling around all day. Baking Rhett’s favorite apple pie, preparing a slow simmering stew, ensuring the chores were done so he wouldn’t have to worry about them when he came home. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, fluffing the pillows on the bed, anything and everything to keep his mind occupied. 

There was only so much he could do. With the pie cooling on the window sill, the floors swept, the house in tip-top shape, he was left with nothing else to distract himself with. So he curled up on the couch with a book. Matilda climbed into his lap, letting out one of her raspy little meows. 

“Hey, old bird,” Miles cooed, reaching up to scratch her head. She chirped at him, curling up on his lap, where she proceeded to begin making biscuits against his thigh. His heart warmed at the sight, book set to the side in favor of showering the kitty in attention. 

“You just as excited for Daddy to come home as I am?” He asked. She pushed her head more insistently into his hand as if to say yes. 

Matilda loved Rhett, her favorite pastime being flopping down at his feet every time he walked, nearly causing him to trip. Miles couldn’t blame the old gal, he too would drop to Rhett’s feet constantly if he could. 

Matilda had been in their lives for three years. Surrendered to Wabang’s only animal shelter because her aging owner could no longer care for her, Miles met her when he volunteered at the shelter for a special adoption event. No one wanted the scraggly looking elderly cat with health issues and missing teeth. 

The poor thing was curled into the corner of her kennel, frightened and confused. It was only natural that Miles would be drawn to her. In a way, he saw himself in her. Scared, alone, traumatized. After all, that was how Rhett found him at the El Royale, what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Miles believed himself to be a lost cause. But Rhett saw something in him. Something worth saving. And that was what Miles saw when he looked upon that scared little cat. 

He adopted her that day. It didn’t take much convincing. All he had to do was turn to Rhett and look at him with his big, wet eyes, and the cowboy was giving in with a soft sigh. 

“You and your bleedin’ heart,” he fondly murmured. 

Since then, Matilda had become a source of joy for both men. She was Miles’ partner in crime, and she had quite the affinity for Rhett. When she wasn’t flopping down at his feet, she was curling up on his shoulder when he sat on the couch. 

She had felt his absence just as much as Miles had. The household just wasn’t the same without Rhett. 

Meanwhile, not far from home, Rhett was feeling that same loneliness, and sense of anticipation. He’d just crossed the Wyoming state line, and in just sixty minutes, he would be reunited with his love. He hadn’t expected to be gone for an entire month, but that was how things unfolded. 

He’d never been apart from Miles for that long, and it was torturous. He felt like one half of a whole, a missing puzzle piece. And sleeping had been hell, because he was so used to sleeping with Miles’ head resting upon his chest. To sleep in an uncomfortable bunk, in a bunkhouse full of crude cowboys, for an entire month had been miserable. 

The guys were nice enough, and he’d made friends with most of them. But after living with a group of men, Rhett had come to deeply appreciate his Miles, even more so than he already did. Rhett wasn’t necessarily intuitive when it came to cleaning and neatness. But he had gotten much better about it since Miles had come into his life.

Miles was extremely neat and regimented. He did all the laundry, folded the clothes a specific way, made the bed exactly the way he’d been expected to make his bunk in the military. He preferred all his products to be lined up a specific way in the bathroom. That was partly a compulsive tendency, and partly military training. Everything was clean and neat and in its place.

Of course, Miles didn’t expect Rhett to be exactly like that. But he had shown him how he preferred to keep things, how to be neat and organized. It wasn’t that Rhett was careless, it was simply that he wasn’t taught. His mother hadn’t spent as much time emphasizing those things. He was clean, but he wasn’t organized. 

Miles had certainly rubbed off on him in the time that they had been together. He’d gotten so used to the neatness, the order, that living in a bunkhouse full of men who generally weren’t neat and orderly was a bit of a rude awakening. 

Oh, how eager he was to go home, and sleep in a bed of crisp linen sheets, freshly laundered, smelling of the pine scented gentle detergent that Miles used. The cottage, a cozy little fixer-upper that Rhett and Miles had worked hard to remodel, would smell earthy and sweet, thanks to the essential oil diffusers (filled with cat-safe oils, of course) that Miles kept running throughout the house. 

It was comforting. It was home. It was everything he could ever dream of having. 

And the closer he got, with each passing road sign that pointed toward Wabang, the more giddy he felt. Because he had a surprise for Miles. In his time away, Rhett had decided to let his beard grow out. Partly because he’d forgotten to pack razors, and because he just couldn’t be bothered to care. He kept it neat with an electric razor lent to him by one of the guys he worked with, but otherwise let it continue to grow.

He’d never sported a beard before, so he wasn’t sure what Miles would think. His husband had always loved his stubble, said it gave him a more rugged look. Would he like a beard just as much? There was only one way to find out. 

He’d purposely avoided video calling Miles, citing bad reception, which was actually true, as he had to drive to a spot all the way outside the ranch just to get enough bars of service for their nightly phone call. But it had worked out in his favor, because it allowed him to keep his newly grown facial hair a secret. 

In his head, he’d gone over the different ways Miles might react. Either he would love it, or he would gently tell Rhett that he needed to shave it. Rhett wasn’t attached to the beard, so he would shave it with no problem, if that was what Miles wanted.

However, he didn’t anticipate just how much his husband would love it. To the point where he would forbid him from shaving at all. 

The hour drive through Wyoming felt like days, a slow form of torture as he continued to glance at the clock on the truck dash, watching time drag on like sand in an hourglass. So close, yet so far. 

Never again would he spend so long apart from his love. The only other time they had been forced to be apart was then. The night Rhett had nearly lost Miles. A whirlwind of terror, confusion, and chaos. Forced apart by strange and impossible circumstances. Rhett had to fight tooth and nail just to get back to Miles, to save him, to keep him alive. 

This time, being apart had not been forced. They had not been taken from each other, their lives had not been threatened. Rhett willingly left to do what he felt was necessary to ensure their financial security. And Miles, though sad to see him go, had encouraged it. 

“It’ll be a good experience for you,” he’d assured Rhett. “I think you should go.”

So he did. But oh, what a relief it was to return. And he knew in his heart that no matter how much money was involved, he wouldn’t leave, not unless Miles could come with him. 

What a major step it had been for Rhett to admit that he needed someone. Not in the way of codependency, or in the way that he was incapable of being by himself. But in the way that his life wasn’t the same without Miles, that he didn’t want to imagine a world where his sweetheart with the soft blue eyes and the honey colored curls wasn’t there.

And in the way that Rhett had spent so many years on his own, thinking he was unlovable, undesirable. That no woman would ever want him, because what did he bring to the table? A couple of DUIs? A fucked up shoulder and an alcohol problem? A dangerous career that could end with him paralyzed, or worse?

He certainly couldn’t entertain the thought of being with a man, either. More so because of his own insecurity and fear than anything else. He didn’t think his family would shun him for it, but he did worry about what the townsfolk would say. What his mother’s church, who was so staunchly against homosexuality, might say. 

And then, there was that fear of being treated differently by fellow bull riders. In a more “masculine” sport, he worried about being seen as less than a man. Now, he knew how foolish he had been. But back then, as a sheltered, small town ranch boy, he didn’t know anything different. Navigating his sexuality was a scary thing. In some ways it was easier not to acknowledge it. To pretend like his attraction to men simply didn’t exist.

And then he was thrown through a black hole that brought him tumbling headfirst into the lobby of Miles’ hotel, and everything changed. It was easy to deny his sexuality when there was no man to place his affections upon.

Meeting Miles changed everything. During that time at the El Royale, no matter how short-lived it was, it felt as if they were the only two men left on earth. And what followed was an intense love story, one that Rhett still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around.

Somehow, despite all the adversity they had endured together, they had been given a second chance. Since then, Rhett had promised himself he would never live ashamed of his sexuality again. 

It had taken longer for Miles to come to terms with his own identity, rooted deeply in religious guilt and trauma, not to mention his upbringing, that took place during a time in history that was so much different from Rhett’s. But Miles had come a long way, in his journey of accepting himself. After coming within a hair’s width of death, his perspective had changed greatly. 

Almost seven years after that harrowing night at the hotel, they had put all that pain behind them. They wore the proof of their love, of their commitment to one another, on their ring fingers. Rhett could hardly believe, after so many years of repressing his true self, that he was now married to another man. What a milestone he had crossed, the day he said “I do” in the middle of Wabang City Hall. 

And thus, they had become Rhett and Miles Abbott-Miller.

Now, Rhett was pulling into the driveway of the very home he shared with his husband. Their forever home. And as he took in the familiar, comforting sight of their little slice of heaven, he couldn’t help but smile, warmth spreading through his chest. 

He was where he was always meant to be. What a privilege to return to the homestead he had built with Miles. In the waning light of day, the chickens frolicked about near their coop. The horses grazed in their pasture. The goats played in their pen. 

A domestic scene, one that stole Rhett’s breath away as he pulled the old GMC Sierra to a stop. This was where he belonged. Where the other half of his heart resided. 

Inside the cozy cabin, Miles, who had managed to get into a chapter of his book, perked up at the sound of an approaching engine. With a soft gasp, his nimble fingers shoved the bookmark between the book’s yellowed pages, casting it aside on the oak coffee table beside him. 

“Daddy’s home, Tils!” Came his exclamation to his cat. 

“Mrow,” she said. 

Quick as a flash, Miles jumped up from the couch, shoving his feet into his house slippers. The orthopedic kind, so his feet wouldn’t ache from walking on the cottage’s hardwood floors all day. Matilda was hot on his heels as he made his way to the front door. 

Through the window, he could see Rhett’s truck coming to a stop, and a jolt of sheer and utter elation rippled through him. He’s home. 

Without a second thought, Miles flung the door open, uncaring that he was wearing his inside shoes outside. That was a problem he would sort out later, solved by taking a few disinfectant wipes to the soles of the slippers. 

From this angle, he couldn’t see Rhett’s face as he climbed out of the truck and went around the side to grab his duffel. Rhett kept his head down, almost as if purposely shielding it from Miles’ view. And, essentially, that was what he was doing. 

Rhett could hardly contain his smile at the sound of Miles’ rushed footsteps, coming closer and closer. “You’re home!” A sweet exclamation that hit Rhett directly in the heart, warming him from the inside out. 

Duffel slung over his shoulder, Rhett turned to face his husband, revealing what he had so sneakily been concealing for so long. 

The new addition to his face went momentarily unnoticed as Miles launched himself forward, straight into Rhett’s arms, the force so sudden it knocked the baseball cap off Rhett’s head. “Oh, I missed you so much!” 

Rhett caught him with ease, joy washing over him in waves, big arms wrapping around Miles’ smaller frame, holding him tight against his chest. He didn’t expect the wave of emotion that hit him, but it gripped him in an instant, eyes welling with tears. “Missed you too, bub,” came his whisper, fracturing around the edges. 

Miles buried his face against Rhett’s chest and breathed in deep. Earth, the peppery edge of cologne, and that natural, addicting musk that could only be described as Rhett. 

When Miles pulled back, searching for a kiss, he froze, eyes going wide as saucers as he gasped, “Oh! Oh my gosh, you grew a beard!”

Rhett couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, crow’s feet deepening around his eyes. “Yeah! What d’ya think?” He stepped back slightly to give Miles a better look.

The look in Miles’ eyes, shimmery and full of wonder, reminded Rhett so much of the way he had looked up at him on the day they got married, as Rhett slid a ring onto Miles’ slender finger. 

“Wow,” Miles breathed, hands lifting so he could tentatively run his fingers through the beard. It wasn’t too long, nor was it too short. It was just right. And oh, how it made him weak in the knees. 

The addition of facial hair made Rhett look so much more rugged. Strong and masculine, as if he had been away in the wilderness for weeks, hunting for food to bring back to his sweet little wife. Who, in this case, was Miles. 

“I’m guessing that means you like it?” Rhett asked, still smiling, though a bit uncertain.

“Like it?!” Miles’ blunt nails gently scratched at the beard. “I’m speechless! Honey, you look…just…wow!” He dove forward again, mouth connecting with Rhett’s. It only took the cowboy a moment to regain his composure, large hands coming to rest upon Miles’ narrow waist as he melted into the kiss.

Rhett’s mustache bit against Miles’ soft upper lip, not necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, but a reminder that it was there. Miles couldn’t help it. He whimpered softly against Rhett’s mouth, body pressed firmly against him, fingers clutching at the collar of his button down.

When they parted, they were both breathless. Miles’ gaze went a little unfocused. His cheeks warmed pink. “Uh, s-sorry. I kinda lost my composure there for a second,” he murmured.

A mischievous glint shone in Rhett’s eyes as he smiled again. “Shit, you really like it, huh darlin’?”

“Well, yeah. How could I not? I don’t see you for almost an entire month and then you show up looking like a mountain man? I mean, good grief! I have half a mind to just drop right here and ride you in the middle of the driveway.”

At that, Rhett sputtered out a laugh, the tips of his ears turning red. “Well damn, here I was thinkin’ I was coming home to my sweet little husband. Didn’t know I was actually coming home to a feral little beast instead.”

Miles shook his head, not at all sheepish. Why should he be ashamed of his attraction to his man? “I can’t help it, you make me feral. Especially with a beard.”

Regaining some of his composure, Rhett ducked forward, nuzzling against Miles’ cheek. At that, he giggled, shrugging away from the scratchiness. “Stop! Don’t you start terrorizing me!”

“Oh? But I thought you liked the beard?” He moved to rub his face against Miles again, but the other man slipped out of his arms. 

“I do, but first we’re putting some conditioner on it so it’s not as rough! Then you can rub it against me all you want!” 

“But I wanna rub it against you now.”

Miles dashed toward the house, quick on his feet, but Rhett was right behind him, duffel bag tossed aside as his long arms reached out to catch Miles by the waist. Laughing like school children, they stumbled over each other, landing in the grass in a heap.

“Stop! You monster! Let me go!” Miles squealed, shoving at Rhett’s broad chest. Certainly strong enough to fully push him off if he wanted, but not trying in the slightest.

Rhett grabbed onto Miles’ wrists, pinning them to the ground above his head. “What’re you gonna do now, huh li’l mouse? Can’t stop me from rubbin’ my beard all over that cute face of yours, now, can you?”

“No! Rhett!” Miles cried, despite the giggles flowing out of him.

Rhett shoved his face against Miles’, rubbing that scratchy beard all over his blushing cheeks. That drew the sound of the beautiful belly laugh that Rhett adored so much, the kind that shook through Miles’ entire body and bubbled out of him in a way that seemed almost painful, though it was the furthest thing from it. 

“Okay! Okay! You’ve made your point!”

At that, Rhett lifted his head so his face was hovering inches away from Miles’, and they both melted into another fit of laughter, bodies pressed to one another, against the warm earth of their homestead. 

As their laughter quieted, a comfortable blanket of silence settled upon them, interrupted only by the steady breeze and the sound of farm life around them. Rhett nuzzled his nose against Miles’, humming lowly. “S’good to be home.”

Miles’ hands lifted to hold Rhett’s face, palms pressed gently against the beard. “It’s good to have you home.” 

When Rhett kissed him, it was deep, loving, filled with all the minutes, hours, and days of yearning he’d experienced while he was away from his beloved. When they parted, both were breathless, warmth rushing through them like champagne fizz. 

Hands resting upon the back of Rhett’s neck, Miles opened his mouth to speak. “Honey, I—”

“Meow.”

The raspy note of Matilda’s voice, which Rhett liked to joke made her sound like she smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day, interrupted whatever Miles had been about to say. 

Rhett looked over to find the cat approaching, fluffy tail vibrating in excitement as she greeted her second dad. With the shake of his head, he reached over, scratching between her ears. “Hey, old bird. Did ya miss me?”

“She sure did. Slept on one of your flannels every night ‘cause it smelled like you.”

“Surprised you didn’t sleep on one of my flannels too,” Rhett teased. 

“I did actually sleep on your pillow because it smelled like you. Even sprayed your cologne on it after I did the laundry, hopin’ to make it smell like you again.”

“Did it work?”

“Wasn’t the same. But it’s alright, you’re back now so I can just lay my head on your chest and smell you all night long.”

Another bout of laughter followed, while Rhett absently scratched at Matilda’s head. Here, surrounded by his little family, he was exactly where he was always meant to be. “Guess we should get off the ground, huh?”

“I dunno, I’m kinda just content to lay here and pet this gorgeous beard.”

At that, Rhett shook his head, scoffing. “Gorgeous? I wouldn’t go that far.”

Miles leaned up to kiss the tip of Rhett’s nose. “I would. Beard’s gorgeous, I said what I said, no take-backs.”

With a roll of his eyes, Rhett playfully nipped at Miles’ bottom lip before he finally scrambled to his feet, reaching out to pull Miles upright. “Alright, beard monster. Let’s get inside.”

Miles giggled, watching as Rhett stooped to grab his duffel, and together, the two ambled toward the house, hips bumping as they walked, Rhett’s arm around Miles’ shoulders, Miles’ arm around his waist. 

Matilda followed eagerly after them, darting around their feet. 

“Old gal’s tryin’ to trip us,” Rhett muttered.

“I think she’s herding us into the house,” came Miles’ reply, laced with laughter. 

By some miracle, they managed to get inside without falling over top of the cat. As Miles closed the door behind them, Rhett stood in the entryway, breathing in deeply for a moment. The scent of home enveloped him like a comforting hug.

Cedar and oak from the hand cut woodwork that accented the cottage, chamomile and frankincense from the diffuser Miles kept on the entryway credenza. And then, of course, there was the scent of a slow simmering stew, onion and garlic and seared meat. 

Rhett’s stomach growled. Miles’ cooking was his favorite. After going weeks without it, he couldn’t wait to eat whatever it was that his husband had cooked up. “Smells s’damn good in here,” he murmured as he toed his boots off, careful to put them on the boot rack near the door. Miles hated when he left his shoes in the middle of the floor. 

“I’m makin’ stew!” Miles happily replied. “I also made you an apple pie.”

At that, hearts might as well have appeared in Rhett’s eyes, like a silly cartoon. His arm found its way to Miles’ waist again, pulling him into the warmth of his body. “What’d I ever do to get blessed with such a good husband? You spoil me, bub.”

Lashes fluttering, Miles shook his head. “You know me, always gotta make sure my man is fed well.”

Rhett ducked his head, kissing Miles once more. They melted into one another, in the cozy confines of their cottage, finally at ease, at peace, two halves of a whole joined together again. When Rhett’s tongue swiped at the bottom of Miles’ lip, he eagerly opened his mouth, letting Rhett inside. Tasting each other, memorizing the feel of one another’s tongues, the slick warmth of their mouths. 

It was dizzying. Intoxicating. Within his chest, Miles felt his heart rate spike, fluttering like a hummingbird. Rhett’s was the same, a caged bird trying to escape. His Miles was so soft against him, cheeks rounded and a little squishy, blushing with the glow of good health. 

What a testament to how well he was doing. Rhett remembered how, not so long ago, Miles was all gaunt cheeks and sharp angles. Now here he stood, healthy and robust. And he was whimpering into Rhett’s mouth, losing himself to the kiss. Fuck. What a pretty sound.

Miles’ hands lifted to take hold of Rhett’s collar, then, as if remembering the beard existed, his fingers began to run through it, petting the slightly coarse hair. Rhett’s hand rested upon Miles’ lower back, pulling him closer, pelvis tilting into his own. 

Rhett felt it then. The telltale hardness that was beginning to grow in Miles’ sweatpants. At that, they parted, both out of breath, eyes a little unfocused, swaying in one another’s arms. 

“Oh, um, I…got a little carried away,” came Miles’ reply, voice cracking. He glanced down, cheeks warming as he realized he was hard. 

With the shake of his head, Rhett grinned. “We’ve been apart for a whole damn month. No such thing as gettin’ carried away, not after we’ve been missin’ each other so much.”

“Uh-huh,” Miles agreed as Rhett kissed at his jaw, distracted by the scrape of his mustache. “But I wanna feed you first. Know you’re probably starvin’.”

“I am starvin’,” Rhett agreed, “but it ain’t for stew or apple pie. Got somethin’ even tastier right in front of me.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let the stew simmer for a little longer…”

The smile that spread across Rhett’s face was wolfish. “Now we’re talkin’.”

“But you have to let me soften this thing up a bit first, ‘cause I just know it’s gonna give me a rash if you don’t,” Miles mused, stroking Rhett’s beard again. 

“Alright, how ‘bout we go hop in the shower? Gotta rinse off anyway, A/C is busted in the truck and the ride home was sweaty. I probably stink to high heaven.”

Miles shook his head, eyes glimmering. “No, you smell like you, and I love it. But it wouldn’t hurt to take a shower anyway.”

“Alrighty then, let’s get to it, loverboy.” 

Together, they headed toward the staircase that led to the upper level, where their bedroom, and the bathroom resided. Giggling, stumbling slightly, hands all over each other, they managed to ascend the steps, Rhett dragging his duffel bag along with him. Once they reached the bedroom, the bag hit the floor with a thud. 

The cozy oasis instantly made Rhett feel at ease. The floor was dark wood, a large rug with shades of green covering part of it. The bed frame was fashioned out of rustic wood, built by Rhett’s own hands. Bedding in shades of green complimented the rug, bringing the room together. 

The room smelled of lavender, soothing in nature. 

This haven was their safe space. A place of solitude and comfort, surrounding the bed in which they held one another as they slept, spent hours engaging in pillow talk, and made sweet love to each other. 

Rhett no longer had to sleep on an uneven vinyl mattress in a bunkhouse full of guys. There was no doubt that he would sleep like a baby tonight, in the comfort of his own bed. But first, there were some things to attend to. Which were made clear by the insistent press of Miles against his back, cheek resting between his shoulder blades as his arms encircled Rhett’s waist from behind. 

“If you grab the towels, I’ll start the shower.”

Rhett hummed. “Sure thing, darlin’.”

And so they parted, Rhett with his job, and Miles with his own.

Steam began to rise in the bathroom, fogging up the mirror and creating a hazy atmosphere as Miles brought the water to the perfect temperature. Rhett joined him moments later, holding two neatly folded towels in one hand, and a bottle of something in his other.

“I, uh, have this beard oil here. One of the guys I was workin’ with gave it to me, but I haven’t tried it out yet. Thought now might be the perfect time.”

Miles nodded eagerly. “Yes! That’s good, we can use it when we’re done.” He took the items from Rhett, setting them down upon the bathroom counter. “Now, go ‘head and get naked, cowboy. Water’s nice and hot.”

“You just want me to strip for ya, s’that it?” Came Rhett’s teasing. 

“I mean, unless you want to take a shower fully clothed…”

With the roll of his eyes, Rhett shook his head, already moving to begin unbuttoning his shirt. But a glint of mischief flashed in Miles’ eyes, and he moved toward Rhett like a honey badger in search of sticky sweet honey. “Wait! Let me do it.”

In amusement, Rhett watched as Miles’ nimble fingers began to undo each button. Once he got to the waistline of his jeans, he gripped the belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. Something about that act made Rhett’s breath hitch in his throat, his mind flashing back to so many times like this one, in which Miles had eagerly unbuckled his belt to take his cock in his mouth.

Rhett’s blood rushed south.

“Honey.”

“Huh?”

“I said, could you step out of your jeans, please?”

Rhett glanced down, realizing Miles was waiting for him to lift each foot from the pant legs of his jeans. “Oh. Got distracted, sorry.”

Miles giggled as he tossed the now discarded jeans to the side. “Soon as I get on my knees you go all caveman brained,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Rhett’s bare thigh. 

“Can ya blame me? Got a little nymph kneelin’ at my feet, can’t help but lose my composure a bit.”

A blush darkened Miles’ cheeks. “I’m a nymph now, huh?” He asked with the raise of his brow.

“Yep. Real cute one too.”

“What kind? Dryad? Naiad? Aurae?”

It was Rhett’s turn to blush, though his was because Miles had such extensive knowledge of Greek mythology, and Rhett was totally out of his element. “I, uh…I dunno, which one do you want to be?” 

Miles giggled as he rose to stand. “I’ll go with dryad. They’re tree nymphs.”

That gave Rhett the opportunity to roll with it and return a humorous quip. “Why? ‘Cause you wanna climb me like a tree?”

They both melted into laughter, Miles shoving at Rhett’s chest. “You’re lame.”

“Ain’t that why you love me?”

“I love you in spite of your lameness.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rhett pulled him in for another kiss, before he shrugged his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor with a barely audible whisper of fabric. 

That left him in just his underwear, and Miles still fully clothed. Something that needed to be remedied. Rhett eased Miles’ waffle knit shirt over his head, exposing his upper body. Dusky pink nipples that had hardened to stiff little peaks. Milky skin dotted with freckles. A soft tummy, with a scar directly in the middle, just above his bellybutton. 

Slightly jagged, pale around the edges. The scar that had nearly taken him from Rhett. The scar that reminded them both of everything they had overcome just to be able to live this sweet, slow life on their little homestead. 

Rhett was struck with a wave of awe as he watched Miles undress. He so vividly remembered the first time he had slept with Miles, back at the El Royale. Though Rhett had never had sex with another man before, he wasn’t half as nervous as Miles had been. Trembling hands, blushing cheeks, eyes that couldn’t meet the cowboy’s gaze.

Miles admitted that he had been with men before, but the reason he was so nervous was because he’d never connected with any of them like this. It wasn’t a quick, hurried fuck in the dark that left Miles feeling like damaged goods, dirty and used. This was intimate. And true intimacy was a very foreign thing to Miles. 

He had been shy. Uncertain. But that was okay, because Rhett was patient. He, too, was navigating something foreign and new. 

Then, Miles had been self-conscious about undressing in front of Rhett. Now, he shrugged out of his clothes without hesitancy or complaint, comfortable in his own skin, accustomed to being naked in front of his husband. 

The cherry on top? Rhett caught a glimpse of something glimmering, nestled between the soft swell of Miles’ ass, as he stepped out of his underwear. 

“You’re wearin’ a plug?” He didn’t mean for his voice to crack, but it did anyway. 

Miles paused, lashes fluttering as he smiled, not shyly, but mischievously. “Well I wanted to be ready for you, had to keep myself stretched.” He said it so matter-of-fact, and it sent a jolt of arousal through Rhett. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Such a good boy.” 

At that, Miles couldn’t help but beam with pride. Rhett’s praise always made his heart sing. He knew wearing a plug would elicit such a reaction. His husband couldn’t get enough of the sight of that pretty, purple, heart shaped jewel contrasted against Miles’ skin. 

It was clear that Miles had been banking on the fact that he was going to get fucked tonight. And Rhett would gladly oblige him. But first, there were other things to attend to. 

“C’mon, get outta those underwear and hop in, so we don’t waste any more water,” Miles said, motioning toward the shower. 

Nodding dumbly, Rhett was already moving to tug his boxers down his legs, half hard beneath them. The sight of him, naked as day, stole Miles’ breath away. It had only been a month, and yet, seeing him now, it felt as if they had spent a lifetime apart. 

He nearly dropped to his knees to take that gorgeous, thick cock into his mouth. But somehow, Miles mustered enough restraint not to do that, but to instead grab Rhett’s hand and guide him into the steam of the shower. 

Rhett followed like a lovesick puppy, which was essentially what he was. As the warm water enveloped him, his hands took hold of Miles’ hips, drawing him closer. The press of bare skin against bare skin was overwhelmingly intimate. It stole Rhett’s breath away. 

He realized how touch starved he was, as he wrapped his arms around Miles, allowing the water to cascade over them both. Going without his lover’s sweet embrace had been more torturous than he even realized. 

Funny, Rhett had always believed himself to have an aversion to touch. In reality, he had merely been so deprived of affection, that he had allowed himself to believe he had no desire for it. 

First, he had needed to come to the conclusion that he could seek out affection, that it was okay, that he wouldn’t be dismissed, turned away, scoffed at. It had helped, early on in their relationship, that Miles needed him. When Rhett first brought him home after his hospital stay following the events of the El Royale, there was a lot of physical contact involved. 

Miles needed to be held when the nightmares woke him in the night. Needed Rhett’s help to take care of himself, to bathe, to do basic tasks that required Rhett to get up close and personal with him. And through that, they had developed a very deep bond. Physical touch provided them both so much comfort during that time, and it still provided comfort now. 

“Missed holdin’ you,” Rhett murmured, voice low. “Hell, I missed everythin’ about you. Already knew I was lucky to have you, but living in a bunkhouse full of dudes reminded me just how lucky.”

At that, Miles grinned. “Oh, he finally admits it.”

That earned an eye roll from Rhett, who playfully swatted Miles’ pert ass. “Hush up, ‘ve always told you how lucky I am to have ya. Just had a good reminder this past month after bein’ away from you.”

“You just missed me for my cooking,” came Miles’ teasing reply. 

Eyes glimmering, Rhett shrugged. “That, and maybe I missed the really good head you give.”

It was Miles’ turn to shake his head in disbelief, pushing at Rhett’s chest. “Oh, unhand me, you perv. Let me condition that beard of yours.”

In reply, Rhett snickered, releasing Miles so he could grab what he needed. But Rhett couldn’t be expected to keep his hands to himself for long, not after being so deprived. 

When Miles turned back around, shampoo in hand, Rhett guided him close once again, tilting his chin back to kiss him languidly. 

“Let me take care of you for a minute,” Miles spoke against Rhett’s mouth, “wanna make you feel pampered.”

An amused hum left Rhett’s mouth. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, ‘cause I know you haven’t had much pamperin’ these last few weeks. Taking rushed showers doesn’t count. You need someone to actually take care of you.”

Something about that took Rhett’s breath away, and he couldn’t conjure up a coherent reply. Certainly not when Miles coaxed him to kneel upon the shower floor so he could properly wash Rhett’s hair. There was a tenderness that Miles brought to everything he did. Care and attention to detail. 

Rhett let himself be looked after. Miles so carefully detached the shower head and used it to dampen Rhett’s hair, allowing some water to cascade down to his beard. The shower head was returned to its cradle in favor of pouring shampoo into his palm, which he first lathered in his hands before so gently working it through Rhett’s hair.

“Your hair got longer too,” Miles observed, “I like it.” 

Rhett was too busy enjoying the sensation of Miles’ fingers massaging his scalp to reply. Eyes fluttering shut, he allowed himself to fully relax. Above him, Miles couldn’t help but admire how at peace his husband looked. The crease in his brow had smoothed out, stress melting away. Miles could only imagine the physical toll the last few weeks had taken. 

Rhett was tired. But now, he could rest. 

“Alright, I’m gonna wash your beard now.” 

At that, Rhett opened his eyes, watching Miles’ focused expression as he lathered shampoo into the beard. His lashes fluttered, eyes glimmering, mouth parting. The expression made Rhett’s heart stutter in his chest. He had never felt more beautiful than he did under his husband’s gaze.

Rhett had never had a high opinion of himself or his own looks, but with the way Miles looked at him, he may as well have been the most handsome man in the entire world. And he was, to Miles. All others paled in comparison. 

Rhett might’ve offered another teasing quip about how far gone Miles was for this beard, but he couldn’t find it in himself to muster a coherent word. Not when his face was so gently cradled in Miles’ hands, handled with the utmost care. 

When it came time to rinse the soap out, Miles was cautious not to get any in Rhett’s mouth, or his eyes. And once he was finished, he spoke, voice slightly wrecked. “You can stand now. Don’t want your knees to hurt from kneeling for too long.”

When Rhett rose to his feet, he watched Miles turn to grab the conditioner bottle, muscle rippling beneath his skin with the movement. Quiet strength, rebuilt after a long period of weakness. A time when Miles could barely walk, because of the pain he was in. Now he hauled bales of hay, carried feed sacks over one shoulder, endured more strenuous forms of labor. He still dealt with lingering aches and pains from his old injuries, at times, but it wasn’t debilitating any longer. 

“You’re staring.”

Rhett’s eyes snapped up to Miles’, and a smile tugged at his mouth. Not sheepish, but loving. “I was just admirin’ your muscles.”

A flush creeped onto Miles’ cheeks. “Oh. They ain’t anything to write home about.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Look how strong you’ve gotten after all this time. I mean, you could barely walk when I first brought ya back to Wabang. Now look at all you can do.” Instinctively, he pulled Miles toward him, arms winding around his waist, bodies slick from the water, warm from the heat. Skin to skin, chest to chest, desire thrumming between them, where their hips met. 

“Guess I have come pretty far. But it’s because you believed in me. Couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Rhett hummed, nuzzling his nose against Miles’. “We’re a team. We work together.” One large hand came up to rest against the scarred side of Miles’ face, thumb rubbing loving circles against his cheek. The feeling of raised skin beneath his touch always reminded Rhett that Miles was very much alive and well. 

Here, in the cozy warmth of their shower, the sweet scent of coconut shampoo hanging in the damp air. A place of softness, goodness, love. 

“Love you so much.” Miles murmured, slow and relaxed. Then his mouth curved into a smile. “But you gotta let me condition the beard now. You keep distracting me.”

“Sorry, sorry, can’t help myself. Wanna hold ‘n squeeze you all the time, twenty-four-seven.” For emphasis, his hands skimmed down the expanse of Miles’ back, gripping the plushness of his ass. 

By some miracle, Miles managed to smooth conditioner into Rhett’s beard, without dropping the bottle, even with the other man grabbing at him. He even managed to ease out of Rhett’s grip and grab soap and a wash cloth.

As he let the conditioner sit, Miles began to attentively wash Rhett’s body. Careful passes of the cloth, starting at the neck and working his way down. Over Rhett’s chest, over that ridiculous faded bull and rider tattoo that he’d gotten at a sketchy tattoo shop when he was eighteen. Over the scar on his shoulder, where he’d taken a bullhorn when he was twenty-one. 

Down, down, down his torso Miles went. Washing away sweat, leaving Rhett’s skin clean and slightly pink. Then, Miles found himself kneeling, and something shifted in his expression. With reverence and tenderness, he ran the cloth between Rhett’s strong thighs, over the ever-growing hardness there.

On instinct, Miles leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the base of it, and Rhett gasped softly above him. There was an innocence to that action, a sweetness, and it increased Rhett’s desire so intensely that he had to reach a hand back against the shower wall to steady himself. 

Miles was so tempted to suck him off then and there, but he had an end goal in mind, and that involved being in the soft comfort of their bed. So he forced himself to continue cleansing Rhett’s skin, moving further down his legs, until, finally, Miles rose to stand once again. 

“Gotta, um, rinse out that conditioner now.”

“Bub.”

“Yeah?”

“Y’can have me in your mouth, if you want.”

At that, Miles shook his head. “I know, but I don’t wanna do it in the shower. I’d rather be in bed.”

Rhett couldn’t help but grin. “Anythin’ for you, princess.”

“Hush up,” Miles responded, though he couldn’t hide his own smile. He set the wash cloth aside and grabbed the shower head again, using it to quickly rinse the conditioner out of Rhett’s beard. Then, once he was satisfied, he shut the water off. 

Quick and methodical, he gave Rhett a towel to dry off with, before grabbing one for himself. Miles would take his own full shower later, because he knew he would need one after whatever mischief he and Rhett got up to in bed. 

Until then, Miles ushered Rhett to sit upon the closed toilet seat. He’d wrapped his towel around his waist, and it did little to conceal his arousal. Miles tried his best not to get distracted by it as he retrieved a clean, dry face towel from the cabinet. 

Rhett let himself once again enjoy the relaxing sensation of his husband’s hands on him. With precision, Miles towel dried the beard, and then retrieved the bottle of oil from the vanity, pausing to read the directions before he began to apply it.

Once satisfied, he took a fine tooth comb, and ran it through the beard, ensuring it looked neat and well-kept. “There. All finished.” He was beaming. Eyes shimmering. Admiring his man. 

Rhett turned, glancing over his shoulder to get a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the bathroom sink. “Not half bad,” he said with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Maybe you should open a barber shop.”

“Maybe I should,” Miles jokingly agreed. 

After he put the beard oil away, Rhett guided Miles toward him, hands on his hips, over the towel he’d wrapped around his waist. Eyes hungry, Rhett gazed up at him, and admired the way his honeyed curls, damp from the shower, fell across his forehead. He looked angelic, in a way. 

“Y’know…” Rhett began, “I was thinkin’. You like my beard so much, maybe you’d like to go for a little ride on it.”

“Oh, uh, we don’t have to, if–”

“I wouldn’t offer, if I didn’t want to do it.” He lovingly squeezed the backs of Miles’ thighs through the terrycloth. “You spent all this time gettin’ it nice and soft. Should be allowed to enjoy your hard work, don’t ya think?”

“I-I guess so.” Cheeks blushing pink. Lashes fluttering. 

Rhett squared his shoulders, eyes narrowing, a cat eager to play with its little mouse. “C’mon now, pretty baby. Let’s go get in bed so you can sit your cute li’l ass on my face.”

Miles lost his ability to form a coherent sentence as Rhett stood, a full head taller than him. Towering. Broad. Oh, he’d definitely missed this. How small Rhett made him feel. Not a feeling of powerlessness, but of safety, of sanctuary, of peace.

Allowing himself to be led by the wrist, Miles followed Rhett out of the steam-dampened bathroom, the cool air of the hallway leaving goosebumps in its wake as the two made their way into the bedroom. 

Once in the tranquil confines, door shut so Matilda the cat wouldn’t try to sneak in, a blanket of comfort and ease fell upon the two men. There was no performance, no expectation. They could just…be. 

Rhett turned toward Miles, his eyes shimmering with something he could not name. In this haven, they were both exactly where they were meant to be. 

Strong, weathered hands skimmed down Miles’ abdomen, deft fingers unwrapping the towel and sending it to the floor. Rhett’s towel followed suit, leaving them bare to one another again. 

The mattress was soft beneath Miles as he e was guided onto it. Rhett held eye contact as he joined him, straddling Miles’ waist, skin warm against skin. Anticipation hung between them, thrumming through their veins.

In his lungs, Miles’ breath hitched, stalling as Rhett ducked forward, eyes narrow, mouth curved into a knowing smile. And Miles melted beneath him, contentment softening his face. Rhett couldn’t help but admire how at ease the other man appeared. Hair curling in tendrils against his forehead, softening his features and giving him a boyish glow that made Rhett’s heart flip. 

He couldn’t resist tracing Miles’ features with his fingertips. The slope of his nose, the fullness of his blushing cheeks, the thin, pink line of his lips. Instinctively, Miles parted his mouth as Rhett’s thumb brushed over it. Wordlessly, he pressed that thumb forward, allowing Miles to suckle at it.

Rhett watched in awe as Miles’ lashes fluttered, eyes hooded, unfocused. His hands came up to loosely grip Rhett’s wrist.

“Oh. You need it bad, don’t you baby?” Rhett breathed. 

“Uh-huh.” came Miles’ response, mouth still full of Rhett’s thumb.

Warmth spread through Rhett’s chest, that familiar, protective instinct swelling within him. Assuming a role of dominance. Not overbearing, not loud. Quiet, controlled, driven by the need to care for his husband. 

“Waited so long, huh?” He cooed.

At that, Miles pulled back from Rhett’s thumb to speak. “I…I didn’t touch myself the whole time you were gone.”

The admission didn’t shock Rhett. Miles didn’t prefer masturbation, at least not when he was alone. He needed physical contact, needed his partner there with him so he could stay grounded. Getting off by himself usually left him feeling unfulfilled and lonely in the comedown, yearning to be held, so his mind wouldn’t spiral too much.

With a low hum, Rhett nuzzled Miles’ nose. “Can I tell ya, I didn’t touch myself, either? I barely had two seconds of privacy some days. Not so easy to get in the mood when you got people breathin’ down your neck.”

A smile crossed Miles’ face. “So we’re both super pent-up then?”

“Guess so. Gonna have to pace ourselves so we don’t finish too fast.”

Miles reached up to run his fingers through Rhett’s beard. “With this thing on your face, I know I won’t last long.”

“We should put that to the test.” Rhett ducked forward to capture Miles’ sweet, mocking mouth in a kiss. 

It was then that Miles seemed to truly register just how bare they both were. As Rhett kissed him, tongue delving into his mouth, Miles canted his hips forward, cock dragging against Rhett’s, hard and insistent between them. 

This was what Miles had been stretching himself for all day, with that jeweled plug. He couldn’t wait to be filled, connected in the most intimate of ways. But first, there was a beard to sit on. 

Rhett knew how much Miles enjoyed foreplay. Not just leading up to the act itself, but in the hours before. A slow, steady buildup. Stolen touches throughout the day, charges glances, and various acts of service that made Miles swoon. 

Of course, Rhett had only been home for about an hour, so a long, drawn out day of foreplay wasn’t on the table. However, he could still worship his husband in this moment, bringing his mouth down his jaw, his neck. Beard brushing over sensitive flesh as he went. 

He sucked on Miles’ pulse point, which drew the most delicious little whimper, cock growing even harder from the sensation. 

Then, Rhett went lower. Over Miles’ clavicle. Between the valley of his chest. Then, ever so slightly, Rhett ran his bearded cheek over each of Miles’ nipples. That drew a choked gasp from him as he jolted beneath Rhett. 

“O-oh! That…that feels good.” A soft, breathless admission. 

A grin spread across Rhett’s face. “Yeah?” He did it again, facial hair brushing over each pebbled little nipple, enjoying the way his husband squirmed beneath him. 

Then, he continued his descent, kissing over Miles’ belly, gentle as he kissed his scar. There had been a time when Miles couldn’t stand to be touched there, but now, he welcomed it, melting into the affection Rhett left against the mark. 

When Miles lifted his head to gaze down at Rhett, he found him already looking up at him, now hovering just over the dusting of hair that led down his lower abdomen, giving way to a thatch of thicker, blondish hair that framed his cock. 

“Look at that. So hard f’me already.” Rhett’s hand wrapped around Miles’ shaft, tugging once, twice, relishing in the hiss Miles let out. “You ready to sit on my face?”

“Uh-huh.” Mouth loose around the syllables, ability to speak leaving him momentarily. 

Rhett’s brow lifted. “Words, bubba.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good boy.” Then Rhett shifted, first grabbing a bottle of lube from the nightstand, and then moving to slide the pillows aside so he could lay flat. Once he was settled, he waved Miles over. “Now c’mon, get on up here.”

Butterflies fluttered in Miles’ tummy as he moved to join Rhett, hands resting upon the headboard to steady himself as he swung his leg over to straddle his face. From this position, Miles found himself feeling just a little vulnerable. It wasn’t often that they did this. 

“Don’t you get lost in that pretty head of yours.” Rhett’s hands came up to gently grip Miles’ thighs, squeezing the muscle. “I’m gonna take your plug out now, alright?”

“Okay.”

Rhett slid his hand back, fingers locating the jewel, before he cautiously eased it out of Miles, who sighed softly at the feeling. He’d been wearing it all day, and was struck by the sudden emptiness. An emptiness that would soon be filled. 

After the plug was set aside, Rhett slowly guided Miles forward, until he was hovering over his face. From Rhett’s vantage point, he was admiring everything in his line of sight. Miles’ cock bobbing between his thighs as he shifted, his full balls, the sensitive, pink skin that led to that cute little hole settled between the plushness of his ass.

“Mm, so pretty,” Rhett cooed, pressing a kiss to the inside of Miles’ thigh, certain to rub his beard into the sensitive skin.

That earned him a surprised “oh!”

Rhett couldn’t help but grin. This was going to be so much fun. 

Hands against Miles’ thighs, Rhett kept him steady, guiding him lower until he could mouth lovingly against the underside of his cock. Miles had to grip the headboard again to keep himself upright. The sensation of that beard was indescribable.

As Rhett licked and sucked and nuzzled, Miles found himself falling deeper and deeper into that state that could only be described as champagne fizz, or maybe fireworks, popping through his brain, through his neural receptors, through every nerve ending in his body.

If this had been his first time experiencing such intense sensations, he might’ve asked to stop. But he knew this feeling well. It was something he had begun to experience after he retired the drugs. After he regained his senses, and they weren’t dulled by another form of stimulus. 

He felt everything. 

And then Rhett guided him forward a little more, so he could swirl his tongue around Miles’ entrance, and that heightened it all. Pathetically, brokenly, Miles moaned, eyes rolling back. Fuck, they’d only just started and he was already this far gone. 

He didn’t have to hold back. Didn’t have to hide his pleasure for fear of Rhett’s judgment. Because Rhett loved how sensitive his husband was. How it was so easy to send him over the edge, how Miles was comfortable enough to allow himself to be in his most vulnerable state, because he knew that Rhett would take care of him. 

No matter how fast he fell, Rhett was always there to catch him. 

And now, Rhett held him, guided him, encouraged him to take what he needed as Miles’ hips canted against that bearded face. 

When Miles looked down, his breath caught in his chest. What a salacious sight. Rhett, between his thighs, Miles’ dick resting across his face. It earned a whimpered “oh my stars,” from Miles. 

That drew a deep groan out of Rhett. Didn’t matter how down and dirty they got. Miles rarely uttered swear words. He just wasn’t in the habit of doing so. Instead, he would say his usual clean phrases. Oh goodness. Oh my stars. Oh my gosh.

Rhett found it both adorable and incredibly hot. Perhaps it was his innocence kink running rampant. 

As if anything about what they were doing was innocent whatsoever. 

Wanting to draw more sounds out of his man, Rhett decided to offer double the stimulation. He eased Miles back just a little so he could speak. “Can ya hand me the lube, darlin’?”

Dumbly, Miles nodded, eyes blinking rapidly as he registered what Rhett was asking. Slowly, he reached over to grab the bottle, and Rhett held up his palm. Miles wasn’t sure how he was able to muster the wherewithal to pour some into Rhett’s hand, but he succeeded somehow. 

Then Rhett pulled Miles back over his face, and wrapped that lubed up hand around his cock. The moment he applied pressure, fingers wrapped firmly around the shaft, Miles jolted, gasping raggedly. 

That spurred Rhett on, and he found his rhythm. Just knowing how much enjoyment Miles was getting out of this was turning Rhett on immensely. The sounds his husband made were so sweet, so vulnerable. Whimpers, squeaks, sighs.

The most gorgeous music he’d ever had the pleasure of listening to. Far surpassing even the melodious birdsong Rhett always enjoyed when he was out in the pastures. Miles’ song was even sweeter than a meadowlark’s. 

Rhett drew more sounds of pleasure from him as he continued his onslaught, laving at the delicate skin, delving his tongue inside, nuzzling his beard against Miles just to draw even more whimpers forth, like a babbling brook. 

That, paired with Rhett’s hand steadily stroking him, was almost too much for Miles. He lost himself to the bliss, eyes fluttering shut, head lolling back. Yes, yes, yes, right there, don’t stop. 

Warmth spread through him, from head to toe. His muscles trembled, his heart flip-flopped, his entire being knew only Rhett, Rhett, Rhett. 

Having gone so long without stimulation, experiencing it again was a welcome assault to his senses. He couldn’t help but grind down against his husband’s handsome face, unable to keep still as one hand held the headboard, and the other tangled in the mop of brunette hair beneath him. 

Rhett grunted at the feeling of Miles tugging at the roots, and it only spurred him on, encouraging him to work with more fervor to provide the man above him with as much pleasure as possible. 

As the intensity mounted, Miles found himself instinctively reaching for Rhett’s hand to hold on to, needing the physical contact, an anchor to ground himself so he didn’t float away, up into the sky like a hot air balloon. 

With their fingers intertwined, he tried to focus, tried to be present in the moment, to enjoy being reunited with his love in such a salacious yet intimate way, after being apart for so many days. But his mind kept fixating on various discomforts. The way his thighs were beginning to burn, the way his spine was too tense because he was subconsciously afraid of resting his weight entirely on Rhett.

And then there was the lack of physical contact. Miles needed more. Needed Rhett’s arms around him, his voice in his ear, his body pressed against him. 

Miles opened his mouth to speak, to ask to change positions, but he was suddenly overcome with a wave of pleasure so electric, he realized almost too late that he was already close to falling apart. 

“Ah! W-wait, wait, wait,” he babbled, reaching down to grab Rhett’s wrist. 

Rhett stopped immediately, hand falling away as Miles pulled back, hovering just over Rhett’s chest now. 

“Y’alright, bub?” 

Miles took a steadying breath, lashes fluttering. His face was flushed, cheeks pink, eyes unfocused. “Yeah, I…I don’t wanna cum yet. Got there a little faster than I wanted.”

Rhett’s palm came to rest upon the softness of Miles’ thigh. “Do you wanna take a break?”

In the past, Miles might have let himself spiral over that, worrying that he was upsetting his partner for needing to put things on pause. But now, he found the confidence to say, “yes. I think that would help. Just…need to be close to you for a bit. Can’t get enough contact from in this position.”

A soft, pleased smile passed over Rhett’s face. If his bub wanted to be close to him, he’d give him exactly what he asked for. “Alright, get over here then.”

Miles was then guided down onto the bed, where he eagerly snuggled into the cowboy’s side, warm and safe, no pressure to continue sex until he was ready. 

An apology was on the tip of his tongue. And he would’ve uttered it, if he hadn’t spent the last few years being assured by Rhett time and time again that he didn’t need to be sorry for needing a break. Now, he believed it. He had nothing to apologize for. 

Besides, it was nice to have a moment to just…be. Here, he could exist in the arms of his spouse, in his most vulnerable state. Protected, loved, cherished. The physical contact was welcome, especially after going without for a while. 

“Mm, missed layin’ on you like this,” Miles spoke, nuzzling his face against Rhett’s chest, sparsely dusted with hair. He breathed in deep, inhaling the clean scent, settling even further into the heat of his body. 

Rhett’s arm wrapped around Miles, holding him closer still. The air between them was still charged, thrumming with anticipation of what was to come. But they were in no rush to get there. Rhett was content to hold his sweetheart for a little while longer, and enjoy the closeness. If there was one thing Miles had taught him over the years, it was to be present and enjoy the moment.

If he’d rushed things along, he wouldn’t get to experience this. The soft press of Miles’ mouth as he lifted his head to kiss Rhett’s chest. Again and again, he kissed the skin there, and the slight swell of his pectoral. Lovingly, adoringly, Rhett watched, admiring the way Miles’ lashes fluttered, the way he seemed so at peace.

“Love you so much,” he continued, words muffled as he mouthed at Rhett’s chest, so they sounded more like “luh ya s’much.” 

Rhett was overcome with something he could not name. An all-consuming need to protect, to provide, to hold and cherish. His free hand lifted, thumb gently brushing over the roundness of Miles’ cheek. 

“Love you too, bub.” There was a rawness in his voice. Sincerity burned through him. 

“I…” Miles opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t voice them. Couldn’t muster the wherewithal to form a single coherent sentence. But Rhett didn’t expect him to speak.

What Miles needed was for his mouth to be occupied. So Rhett gave that to him, guiding him forth until Miles wrapped his lips around one of Rhett’s peaked nipples.

That did exactly what Miles needed it to. He moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as he suckled. It drew a broken gasp from the cowboy, who soon cooed and reached up to brush Miles’ curls away from his forehead. 

“There ya go. That what you needed, baby boy?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Just had to have your mouth full for a bit. Bet you missed havin’ something to suck on, huh?”

Another whimpered “mhm!”

Rhett knew his partner well. Miles had always had an oral fixation, and together they had found that he loved sucking on Rhett’s fingers, or, in this case, his nipples. Something that Miles had originally been embarrassed about, but Rhett had assured him that he found it to be a major turn on. And not only that, but it had become very soothing for both of them. A way to connect with each other, to experience another form of intimacy. 

Here, in the sacred confines of their bed, they melted into one another. A sense of peace blanketed Miles, his overwhelm fading away as he nuzzled further into Rhett. This was what Miles had needed all along. The close contact. Nights spent in this bed had been so lonely without his cowboy. The emptiness of the house would press into him, too quiet, too vast. He would play soft classical music to fall asleep to, just to fill the silence. 

Now, he could listen to Rhett’s heartbeat, and the soft, rhythmic sound of his breath. Oh, how sweet it was to be reunited. 

If only for a moment, everything disappeared. All of Miles’ worries, all his uncertainty. It left his mind, and in its place, a flood of endorphins rose to the occasion.

Rhett allowed Miles to have his fill, to remain against his chest for as long as he wanted. Because it was just as soothing for Rhett, and he adored watching how peaceful his husband looked. 

And then, instinctively, Miles’ hand came up, fingers absently running through Rhett’s beard, and that quite nearly sent Rhett’s heart soaring up into the heavens. He was a source of comfort. And that privilege meant everything to him. 

He held Miles a little tighter, relishing in the closeness, and in the sound of his soft hums of contentment. 

After a few moments, Miles pulled back, lips wet and shimmering, cheeks flushed, eyes a little glassy. And he seemed to fully register the fact that Rhett was hard and aching, cock resting heavy and flushed against his abdomen. 

Switching gears, his hand skimmed down Rhett’s chest, over his stomach, and stopped right against his cock. Miles’ fingers wrapped around the shaft, thumb swiping over the blushed tip, which leaked a steady stream of molten arousal. 

Rhett’s breath hitched, a shock of pleasure rushing through him. 

“You’re so wet,” Miles murmured, an observation more than anything. But the way he said it, with this unintentional air of innocence, made Rhett’s heart rate pick up speed. 

“Can’t help it,” he grunted, “s’just what you do to me.” 

In wonder, Miles lifted his hand to admire the way the sticky substance glistened on his fingers. And then, he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked those fingers clean. 

Rhett groaned deep in his chest, unable to hold back any longer. With ease, not force, he shifted, until his body was hovering over Miles, not pinning him down, but blanketing him. 

Miles blinked up at him, lashes fluttering, curls mussed atop his head, appearing more like a halo. 

“God, I could just eat ya right up,” came Rhett’s rasped admission. “You got no idea how much you turn me on.”

“If it’s anything like the way you turn me on, I think I have some sort of idea,” Miles managed to tease back, even as his eyes drifted down between their bodies, where Rhett’s cock brushed lightly over his. 

A smile warmed Rhett’s face. “Guess we’re even, huh?” He playfully nipped at Miles’ bottom lip, and when it parted, he kissed him deeply. 

Miles’ brain went haywire once again at the feeling of that facial hair against his skin. The overwhelm he had felt earlier had melted into something much more manageable, and now, he found himself wrapping his arms around Rhett’s shoulders, pulling him closer, eager for more. 

“Whatcha want, bubba? Want my face between your legs again? Or you want me inside you?”

“I’m ready for you to be inside me.” There was no hesitancy. Miles knew what he wanted. 

With another kiss, Rhett said, “alright. Lemme just grab the lube.” The bottle had rolled toward the edge of the bed, and he rescued it from falling to its death over the edge, before moving to kneel against the bed so he could ready both himself and Miles. 

Rhett took extra care to warm the lube between his fingers before he brought them down to prep Miles. His work roughened palms were gentle as he parted Miles’ legs, hunger in his eyes as he admired that pink little hole. 

Carefully, deliberately, Rhett smoothed his slick fingers where Miles needed him most, touch teasing and light as he circled his entrance. Any other time, Rhett might have drawn things out and made Miles beg for it. But after going without for so long, that just seemed downright cruel. Especially when Miles batted his pretty lashes at Rhett, bottom lip quivering from the force of his neediness. 

Rhett ducked forward, capturing those sweet lips in a kiss as he eased two fingers inside Miles, drinking down his broken whimper like it was some sort of heavenly nectar. 

He was so pretty like this. Already fucked out. In this lust-addled state, Miles’ inhibitions essentially went out the window. He was more vocal. Unashamed of his own desperation. 

As Rhett’s fingers stretched him, Miles sank deeper and deeper into that blissful state, eyes going unfocused, mouth open to let out those precious squeaks that Rhett adored so much. 

Miles trembled against the plushness of the mattress, blindly searching for one of Rhett’s hands to hold. In the haze of his own pleasure, Miles thought briefly that it was slightly pathetic just how needy and responsive he was. But he couldn’t help it, could he? His body was reacting of its own violation. His brain was just along for the ride.

Through the haze, he heard Rhett’s voice. A low rumble in his chest. Murmured words of praise. “Look at that. Pretty li’l ass opened right up for my fingers. Like you were made to take me, huh?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Was made f’you,” Miles managed to slur, mouth loose around the syllables. Intoxicated, not off of any sort of substance, but off of pure, unbridled arousal.

Rhett spent a little more time readying the man beneath him, guiding his fingers deeper. He splayed his hand against Miles’ lower abdomen, touch warm and grounding. Wordlessly encouraging him to relax. 

And relax, he did. His legs parted further, his body sank into the comfort of the quilt beneath him. The very quilt he had sewn together with his own hands, made from various patches of fabric, many of which held sentimental value. Including pieces of Rhett’s favorite childhood blanket. 

The quilt was a wedding gift Miles had presented to Rhett the night they got married. And now, it provided a source of grounding comfort as Miles melted into it. 

Safe. Protected. Enveloped in his husband’s warmth. 

“I’m ready.” Miles surprised even himself with how quickly and decisively he said it. He needed Rhett inside him. The thought of waiting another minute was unbearable. “Please, sir. Can’t wait any longer.”

That did it. Rhett’s lashes fluttered, mouth parting as his cheeks went ruddy with warmth. “Yeah? Poor baby. Gonna give you what you need.” He brought his hand up to cup Miles’ scarred cheek, thumb swiping over his lips. Miles took the digit greedily, mouth wrapping around it, relishing in its weight against his tongue. 

When his gaze flickered up to meet Rhett’s, the cowboy’s breath caught in his throat, dick twitching between his thighs. At that point it was just cruel to make Miles wait any longer. 

Rhett eased his fingers out of the man beneath him, swallowing his soft whimper with a kiss, before he reached over to take hold of the bottle of lube once again. 

He used a generous amount, not wanting to take any chance of possibly hurting Miles. Once Rhett was certain he’d used enough lube, he finally situated himself between Miles’ parted thighs, taking a moment to admire how pretty he was like this. Pliant and needy, eager for whatever Rhett was going to give him. 

Next came what was one of Rhett’s favorite moments whenever he made love to his husband. It was the sight of that sweet, handsome face crumpling into a mask of utter bliss as he eased his hips forward. 

The head of his cock only just breached Miles’ entrance, and already, his eyes were rolling back, mouth falling open, chest heaving as he took in a trembling breath. 

Rhett carefully pushed Miles’ thighs further apart, knees up near his chest. Holding him like that, he continued to ease forward, inch by inch, gauging Miles’ face for any signs of discomfort. But there were none. 

In fact, Miles began to softly plead, “more, more, more.”

So Rhett gave it to him. He pressed his hips down until Miles had taken all that he could. And then, in a breathless whimper, he sighed out, “thank youuu.”

Rhett’s head was spinning as he stared down in awe at the man he loved. So perfect and pliant, so utterly devoted. In this moment, trembling with desire, Rhett knew Miles would do anything he asked. Anything at all. 

But Rhett had never, and would never, abuse that sacred trust. In his most vulnerable state, Miles could give himself over to his husband, and know that he would take care of him in every way he needed. 

“There ya go. That’s what you needed, huh darlin’?”

Miles’ bottom lip quivered as he nodded. “Yes, yes, it’s everythin’ I needed!”

Rhett surged forth, elbows resting on the mattress, at either side of Miles’ head, caging him in. Instinctively, Miles wrapped his legs around the narrow plane of Rhett’s waist, pulling him even closer. Chest to chest, hearts beating as one. 

“S’alright if I move, or do you need a minute?” 

With a nod of his head, Miles replied, “you can move.”

He couldn’t describe it with mere words, but the feeling of being connected like this, in the most intimate way possible, brought a sense of all consuming peace upon Miles. It was more than just physical. The connection was emotional, he might even go as far as to say it was spiritual. 

Sex wasn’t simply a means to an end. A way to get off, to let off some steam. It was special, sweet, intimate. Even when they were participating in kink scenes, there was always a level of tenderness and care just beneath the surface. A reminder that they had each other. That, together, they were safe and loved. 

“Missed this so much,” Rhett gasped, voice strained as he eased his hips back, only to thrust forward once again. “Can’t believe I went a whole month without you.” Another thrust. 

Too overcome to speak, Miles tilted his head, searching for Rhett’s lips. As they kissed, they swallowed one another’s sounds of pleasure, as if they could consume each other’s souls this way, two becoming one. 

Chest to chest, hip to hip, there was no way to tell where one began and the other ended. And that was how they preferred it. Wrapped around each other wholly and completely. 

Before Miles, Rhett’s relationship with sex was hurried, impersonal fucks that left him unfulfilled. He’d always said he wasn’t the type to settle down, but that was a bold faced lie that he told himself, because he truly believed he would never meet anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. 

How wrong he’d been. Now he had a sweet husband who went weak in the knees at the mere concept of him sporting a beard. Life was good. 

Beneath him, Miles lost himself to the warm press of Rhett’s body against his own. The feeling of that gorgeous beard against his cheek, the side of his neck, the column of his throat. Rhett had essentially turned into an affectionate cat, rubbing his face all over the whining, moaning, quivering man beneath him. 

Miles welcomed it, relishing in the contact, the closeness. The sensations rippling through him were increasing, the heat of pleasure growing tenfold. All he knew was the feeling of Rhett’s cock within him, thick and unrelenting. And then, with just the right angle of his hips, he nudged into that spot that sent Miles trembling against the bed like a live wire. 

“Oh!” He yelped, one hand gripping at the sheets, the other thrown around Rhett’s shoulders as he searched for something to ground himself. 

Rhett grunted, hips stuttering, though his pace didn’t slow. “Yeah, that’s your spot, ain’t it bubba?” He gave Miles a moment to adjust to the sensation, and he could feel the way his cock twitched between them, wet and shiny, leaking steadily with each thrust. 

And it seemed to send forth even more slick as the head of Rhett’s cock bullied against that sensitive little button. If there was one thing that always turned Rhett on to no end, it was how wet Miles got. 

Rhett couldn’t resist bringing his hand between their joined bodies, fist closing around that fevered cock that smeared against the skin of their lower abdomens. At the added stimulation, Miles wailed softly, drunk from the pleasure, already in a daze. 

“Can ya talk to me, sweetie? Tell me what you’re feelin’?” Rhett cooed, strained as it was. 

“I-I-I…” Miles’ mouth started working before his brain could catch up, a response at being given a gentle command from the man above him. It took him a moment to gather enough wits to speak. “Fuh–feels…oh! Feels in-incredible, sir! Not gonna last!”

Rhett was impressed Miles was even able to get a coherent word out. “Yeah? You close already?” For emphasis, he swirled his thumb around the blushing tip of Miles’ cock, drawing a broken gasp out of him at the contact.

“Yes! Yes!”

Offering another deep, deliberate thrust, Rhett ducked forward, mouth hovering over Miles’. “Hold it f’me, just a little bit longer, alright?”

A tearful nod was all the confirmation he needed. So Rhett slowed things way down, drawing his hips back and carefully, steadily driving them forward again. Not hurried, not rough. Just a deep, prolonged connection. 

When Miles pawed at Rhett, gripping his shoulders for purchase, Rhett took the initiative to wrap his husband in his arms. With practiced ease, he guided Miles into his chest, maneuvering them both until Rhett was on his knees on the bed, and Miles was in his lap.

There, they moved in tandem. Instinctively, Miles rolled his hips against Rhett’s with each thrust he made beneath him. A rhythm was developed, a steady push and pull that had them gasping and moaning into one another’s mouths.

Their bodies were attuned to one another, a certain flow to their movements that spoke of their connection to one another. Miles might describe that connection as spiritual, in a way. Rhett, a man of fewer words, didn’t know how to describe it. All he knew was that he loved the man in his arms more than words could say. 

He held Miles a little tighter, a little closer. Sharing in one another’s warmth. Sweat dampened their bodies, skin slick against skin as their desperation mounted, growing more overwhelming still. 

Miles found himself seeking out Rhett’s mouth, but he could hardly find his faculties to initiate a kiss, his mind was too far gone, enveloped in a safe, warm blanket of bliss. Mouth hot and wet against Rhett’s, Miles whimpered, “love you, love you, love you.”

Bodies pressed tightly against one another, with each shift of his hips, Miles’ cock was pressed between the plane of his own abdomen, and Rhett’s. The combination of lube and sweat provided a deliciously wet friction. That, along with the steady push and pull of Rhett inside him was enough to send Miles’ brain into overdrive.

What followed wasn’t necessarily a black out, it was more so an all-encompassing rush of molten pleasure, sparking through his veins like firecrackers. The sounds that left his mouth were pathetic and unrestrained, loud whimpers and squeals with each thrust of Rhett’s cock. Miles had lost all sense of decorum, and he was too far gone to even care.

As he held his blissed out husband, Rhett basked in those pretty little sounds, and he knew, by the way Miles trembled, like a leaf in the wind, that he was close. 

So he decided to help him along. He knew exactly what to say to send his sweetheart over the edge.

Grinding deep inside him, Rhett murmured lowly against the shell of Miles’ ear, “you’re gonna squirt for me, ain’t you, bubba?”

Miles whimpered, mouth open, eyes watering. He tried to answer, tried to say yes, yes, yes, but all that came out was an incoherent warble. 

Rhett’s strong, but gentle, hand came up to cup Miles’ blushing cheek. He kissed him, open-mouthed, tongues sliding over each other. And then he pulled back to speak again, “let go, I’ve got ya.”

So Miles let himself fall, because he knew Rhett was there to catch him. It all came to its peak when that delicious, sizzling pleasure engulfed him, sparks igniting at the base of his spine, the constant nudge of Rhett’s cock against that sensitive spot within him sent Miles plummeting.

He cried out against Rhett’s mouth, jolting in his arms like a live wire as it overtook him. Everything that had been pent up in the time they had been apart was now released. A steady, viscous torrent that spilled from Miles, hot and pulsing, soaking himself and Rhett in the process. 

He could hear the breathless murmur of Rhett’s voice, talking him through it, but the rush of blood pounding in his ears made it impossible to make out a single word. 

“That’s it,” Rhett was saying, words strained as he fought against his own mounting pleasure. “Let it all out.” What a sight to behold, as Miles fell apart. He was gorgeous. Perfect. Ethereal. A heavenly being sent from above.

Rhett cradled him close, hips still rolling upward, even as that tight ring of muscle spasmed around him, sending him dangerously close to the edge. He would hold Miles through his first, and only then would Rhett let himself cum. 

But for Miles, it seemingly had no end. Tears sprang to his eyes, spilling down the warmth of his flushed cheeks, meeting at the apex of his chin. And Rhett leaned back to lick those tears away, cooing at his beloved as he wept. 

“Ca-can’t stop!” Miles squeaked, “th- ah! - there’s so much!”

“Shh, s’alright,” came Rhett’s groan. He allowed himself a glance between their joined bodies, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded as he took in the sight of the mess. “Good boy. Such a good boy.”

Finally, finally, Miles slumped forward, still shivering with the aftershocks as the intensity began to ebb. Whimpering, gasping, he babbled repeatedly, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I’m right there, bub,” Rhett gritted, muscular thighs trembling beneath Miles. “Can ya take a little more?”

Barely able to form a reply, Miles managed a “mhm!”

So Rhett’s large, warm hands came down to grip Miles’ hips, holding him in place as he rocked his own upward. Several deliberate strokes soon brought Rhett to his own end, and he all but crushed Miles to his chest as he let go.

Nose buried into the softness of Miles’ hair, Rhett breathed in as his orgasm washed over him. Deep inside his husband, his release spilled forth, marking him, claiming him. A primal act that only heightened Rhett’s pleasure, and reignited Miles’. 

Miles couldn’t help the broken moan that tore itself from the depths of his throat as that sinful, slick warmth filled him to the brim. There was something so primal about it. His heart skipped a beat at the feeling. 

Chest heaving, pulse thundering, Rhett slowly came down, still twitching inside Miles. A blanket of calming quiet settled over the two, save for their labored breathing. They needed a moment to gather themselves, to enjoy the closeness before it was time to part. 

Rhett tightened his arms around Miles, nuzzling the side of his neck. It was then that Miles began to giggle, a soft, musical sound that made Rhett laugh. 

“Whatcha laughin’ at?”

“Your beard tickles.”

That brought a grin to Rhett’s face. “Yeah?”

Too late, Miles realized his error. “Wait!”

But Rhett had already buried his face into Miles’ neck again, purposely rubbing his beard into the sensitive skin until Miles was laughing openly, shoving at Rhett’s chest. However, the full body tremor that ran through Miles as he laughed was instant, unintentional payback for Rhett teasing him with the beard, because the movement caused him to clench around Rhett’s softening, sensitive cock.

He hissed softly, shuddering at the feeling.

“Sorry, sorry,” Miles apologized, trying to still his laughter.

Rhett shook his head, eyes glimmering with amusement. “S’alright, I’m the one who got you all giggly.” He lovingly bumped noses with Miles. When their lips met, it wasn’t hungry or desperate. Instead, it was tender, sweet, gentle. 

When they parted, Miles seemed to finally register the aftermath of their passion. He glanced down, lashes fluttering as he took in the sight of his pearlescent release, sticky against his abdomen. “Made a mess.”

“Yeah you did,” Rhett said with a knowing smile. “Guess we need another shower, huh?”

“I’ll say.”

Although they both wished to linger a little longer, Rhett knew that Miles hated the feeling of cum drying on his skin, and he wanted to prioritize his comfort by getting him cleaned up first before they did anything else.

“Want your plug back in?” Rhett asked.

Cheeks warming, Miles nodded. “Please.”

What followed was careful maneuvering as Rhett lowered Miles onto the bed, kissing him sweetly to swallow his whine as he eased his cock out. Rhett moved quickly, quick to locate the previously discarded plug. Retrieving a pack of wet wipes from the bedside table, he wiped the plug clean, and then returned to ease it back inside Miles. 

It slid inside with ease, and the moment it was in place, Miles let out a soft sigh of relief. Then, Rhett hovered over him, moving to kiss his nose before he said, “let’s go rinse off, okay bubba?”

They found themselves in the shower once again, and this time, it was Rhett who reverently washed his husband. Few words were spoken as they engaged in aftercare. There was no urgency, no hurriedness. Just the two of them relishing in the intimacy of being together. All was right with the world now that they were reunited, here in their cozy little home. 

Once they were finished rinsing off, they were quick to change into pajamas. Rhett into a pair of lounge pants, sans shirt, and Miles into one of Rhett’s ratty old rodeo t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. 

Sleepy eyed, they made their way downstairs, where Miles dished up bowls of slowly simmered stew. They enjoyed their meal at the kitchen table they had built together when they were newly married. 

Matilda the cat decided to curl up on Rhett’s lap as he ate. 

“Look at her. She missed Daddy so much,” Miles pointed out in amusement, leaning back in his chair, stew long since finished as.

Rhett hummed, lovingly scratching her little velveteen head. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he said, “not as much as you missed Daddy though, huh?”

Miles rolled his eyes playfully, leaning toward Rhett. “Oh, I definitely missed you more than she did, Daddy.” Throwing the name right back in Rhett’s face seemed to spark a fresh wave of desire through him, and with a smirk, he reached out to tug Miles closer, but he was too quick for the cowboy, darting just out of reach. 

“Get back here!”

“Can’t catch me, you’ll disturb Matilda’s nap.”

“You evil li’l thang.”

A triumphant smile warmed Miles’ face as he waltzed over to the kitchen window to retrieve the apple pie. “Will you accept pie as a peace offering?”

Rhett relented, leaning back against his chair. “Maybe.”

“With a nice big scoop of vanilla ice cream?”

“Fine.”

That was exactly what Rhett got. A generous slice of pie with a hefty scoop of vanilla bean-flecked ice cream. A comforting warmth spread through Rhett’s chest as he took the first bite. Sweet, cinnamon-y goodness, balanced by the slight tartness of the perfectly cooked apples. 

“Fuck me, this is incredible as usual, bub,” he murmured around a mouthful of pie. 

Miles beamed over his own slice of pie. He found great joy in watching Rhett enjoy the food he made. “Glad you like it.”

With fondness softening his features, Rhett leaned forward, hand coming up to rest over Miles’ own. “You take such good care of me. S’good to be home with you, where I belong.”

Miles turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with Rhett’s. “You better not leave again, you hear me, cowboy?”

Rhett grinned, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t think I could stand another month without ya.”

A serious look settled onto Miles’ face. “In all seriousness, I love how hard you work to make sure our little family is taken care of. Always know I can depend on you.”

Rhett’s eyes glimmered, heart growing warm in his chest. “Lookin’ out for you is important to me.”

“I know. And I love you for it.” Leaning across the table, Miles kissed Rhett sweetly, hand lifting to run his fingers through that beard. “By the way, you better keep this gorgeous beard.”

A grin spread across Rhett’s face. “Anythin’ for you, bubba.”

-

tagging those who interacted with the post i made about this:

@aratheegreat @fairyheart @hi-res-tm @live-love-be-unique @abbottsdarling

@rhettled @lalalunascope @peachystenbrough @lostglassguitars @spencers-stardust

@em1i2a3 @mywinterivy @good-vibes-and-glitter @lookitsgrim @monkeydoll5

@abbotslamb @fanboyswhore9 @lilmisslexapro @fandomxo @fridamoss

New York City was just supposed to be a pit-stop all those years ago, her grandma had a cottage in upstate New York. When she passed away, through her will, Y/n was given the house and the grounds surrounding it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move there, but it felt right to be in the city, to be close to Bob. 

Y/n grew up going to her grandma’s before school started, she was there all the time, it was a second home. As she got older, she always begged to spend the summers Upstate, getting away from the social pressures and commitments to just be with her grandma. 

It was a continued tradition through the years. When she could get away, she would, but she had obligations, work. Her grandma was there when she was nineteen, diagnosed with autism and borderline personality disorder, she listened to Y/n, through and through. Took in her disability, while also just still seeing Y/n as her granddaughter. 

As her grandmother got older, more frail, she tried to be there as much as she could. It was a whole different type of heartbreak to watch someone she loves so much leave her slowly. She used to watch Y/n swim at the lake nearby, grandma used to call Y/n her little fish. 

Confronting the cottage was hard, but she couldn’t stay around New York where every corner reminded her of Bob. 

Y/n didn’t like to think about it, she didn’t like to think of how it felt to have her heart ripped out of her chest. She needed to move on with her life and that’s what she was doing. 

She cruises along the winding roads of Upstate New York, hoping that every drive back and forth from work would be enough. Within the thickets of trees, orange leaves falling from the branches and cascading onto the pavement. The scenery of the forest along the coast, of mountains and down the slope of the ground on the right hand side of the road. The light hue of the sun begins to cause a slight shadow against the road, even with it still being bright out. 

The cottage was a ways away from the bookshop in town that she worked at, it was a small community on the coast. An escape from her past that seems to haunt her, even here, but with familiarity she wasn’t scared to face. She hadn’t been here for long, but the idea of staying made a home in her gut. Like a cat making circles on its favorite spot before burrowing into ‌ safety and comfort. 

Then her car starts to lurch forward, looking down at the heating gage, that is way too high. Especially as smoke begins swelling from the hood. Which stops once she pulls over onto the side of the road, in a silent panic. Too tired from the day and her life to even process what she was supposed to do. It just felt like one thing after another, so the choice she makes is to cry, to press her forehead to the stirring wheel, to just let it out. 

A blue truck pulls up behind her, the large lights on ‌top were turned off, but large enough to catch her eye. Then a guy with a cowboy hat hops out before sauntering up to her car. She uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears before grabbing her pepper spray, rolling down her window. 

Pepper spray at the ready, “Woah-I mean no harm!” The man defends, with a western twang, and oh my god he…

He looks just like Bob, but with brown eyes, his nose a bit crooked, tanner skin, not as thick through the shoulders but naturally strong, his hair a lighter golden brown. He takes off his hat, pressing it to his chest.

“What happened here?”

It’s like everything slows as she says, “Bob?”

“No um, I’m Rhett, Rhett Abbott.” he offers with a chaste smile, eyes roving over the car with concern. “Did your car break down?”

“Oh um, yeah I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Alright if I check things out?” 

“Sure…”

Rhett pops the hood of her car while she rounds it to stand next to him, pepper spray still in her pocket. No matter what he looked like, men were men. 

“The engine’s not hot, how long you’ve been pulled over?”

“Like, thirty minutes, I think…”

“You didn’t call anyone?” he questions with a quirk of his eyebrow. He leans into the car to look at all the different parts that she had no way of beginning to understand, or interest to. 

“I don’t really have anyone nearby, I just moved up here last week.” Y/n explains, lashes trying to bat away the exhausted tears, hands in front of herself, fingers interlaced with the other. 

“Ah…” he nods, “Where you from?”

“Originally from Maine but I’d come here to stay with my grandma for the summer, I was the youngest. She died and I got her house, and you probably don’t need that much information.” She ridicules herself, glancing down at the ground with quiet shame only she could place on herself. 

Rhett gives a lingering look, “I don’t mind, I’m the youngest too, I don’t really know a lot of people around here either.”

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Wyoming.”

“Ah, that’s where the cowboy thing comes from, thought you were just one of those wannabe’s.” 

Rhett blushes, grinding his jaw, “Couldn’t be more obvious, huh? What gave me away?”

“For one, the cowboy hat, who actually wears those?” 

He snorts, shaking his head before checking the oil cap, “You changed your oil lately?”

“I haven’t really, my cars have been sitting in storage for the last like, three years, I lived in the city for a while, just didn’t use it.” she explains as he steps back, grimacing as he walks over to the tire.

“I’m assuming you didn’t air up the tires, either?”

“No…I’m not good at that.”

“Can’t believe you were driving this thing around.” Rhett exclaims with a tiny sigh, more out of worry than annoyance.

“Yeah…” she trails, gnawing on her lip, “Sorry.”

Rhett softens, “You don’t gotta be sorry.” giving her an encouraging smile that makes her stare at the lines around his mouth. 

He takes her home that night, she offers him dinner like it’s a reflex. She doesn't know how many times her grandma would open her doors to random strangers. It might’ve been a trait from her grandma or something else. Clinging on the past or maybe listening to her intuition. 

She ignores his lingering gaze, even when there’s a thrill up her spine, when he looks a little too long. Then smiles to himself like whatever commentary was going on in his head was something clever. Maybe even bashful from the twinge of pink that blotches his cheeks. 

The next day, he uses his truck to tow her car back to her place. He brought over tools and borrowed equipment he would need to fix it. Though realizing she had an old car jack in her garage definitely helped with hauling things to her place. But then once the oil was changed, and the tire was aired, the car wouldn’t start. 

Rhett never pushes or makes her uncomfortable, but he is always there, checking up on her to make sure she can get to and from work. He had his own job to worry about, but nevermind that, he felt bad that he hadn’t been able to fix her car on the first try. 

While trying to find ways to spend time with her, he convinces her to go hiking on the trails around there. The first time it's a bit of a humid day, her baby hairs are a bit staticy around her forehead. A cap he’s wearing pushed Rhett’s hair back, for some reason he hikes in jeans, t-shirt and cowboy boots. He helps her spray on bug spray when the mosquitos get bad, leading her through the nearby trails. 

As they walk along, she comes across a large, sturdy tree trunk, deciding to really get into the hiker groove. She crawls onto the log with efficiency, like she’d done this a million times before. Then, pushing herself up to stand, Rhett’s eyes widen. “Woah there.”

“Ha, finally taller than you.” she grins, looking down at him and crossing her arms. “Sometimes when I was younger, I would climb up onto trees like this and read a book.”

“You come across a lot of fallen trees?” he inspects with humor, moving in closer. He tries to ignore the nerves that he gets at the prospect of her getting hurt. 

Then she looks down at the city girl trickling back in as she glances down, “I’m really high up now, this was taller than I remember…”

“I can help you,” he offers, reaching up for her.

“No, no, I’m too heavy, I’ll hurt you.”

Rhett relents, waving his hand over, “Nah, I got you, c’mon.” 

She sighs before hesitantly grabbing his strong, corded hands, slowly he guides her down the side. But the bark on the tree begins to skid off, making her feet slip. Which makes Y/n fall forward, right into Rhett’s arms. 

“You caught me.” she whispers. 

He’s got a big grin on his face, searching her face with those eyes of dark honey, “I said I got you, I always got you.” he shrugs. 

She stays there for a second too long before parting from him, her heart beating in her throat. The way he was looking at her. What scares her isn’t that she thinks of Bob, it’s that she doesn’t at all. Only an afterthought of guilt once she was out of his arms. Now trudging on with the invisible imprint of his hands on her waist. 

Rhett stops at a pond, crouching down while Y/n stops to drink some water from her bottle. “C’mere.” he hums, gesturing for her to come closer, she moves his hand up, that has a small red and black spotted bug, placing it on her nose.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, eyes wide as he smiles as she goes crossed eyed. Then the ladybug flutters its wings and makes her scream. She shakes her head like crazy, jumping and squealing to try to get the ladybug off. 

Laughter bubbles from Rhett’s throat, “That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Y/n flushes all over, grimacing at the cowboy as she crosses her arms. Rhett still has that shitty eating grin stretching across his cheeks. He approaches, “No, it’s not.” she refutes.

His hand reaches out to her hair, gently pulling the ladybug who hadn’t quite flown away yet. Rhett blows them away with a little spout of air. “Okay, seeing the ladybug in your hair was pretty darn cute too.”

“Let’s keep going.” She nods, avoiding the subject.

She didn’t know if she liked it, all she knew was it crawled up her spine, she didn’t know if that last thing was a good thing. 

Y/n tries to keep him at a distance, a friendship, but Rhett was obvious that it wasn’t what he wanted. She couldn’t deny that sparkle in his brown eyes that made strings tug at her heart. 

The connection was undeniable, he would never be Bob, but she didn’t want to replace him. She never hid Bob or her sorrow from Rhett. She didn’t dance around the subject, but she shut down at the prospect. Scared that if he found out the truth, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. 

They didn’t start dating for a long time. About five months in, Rhett finally dropped the question, “When are ya gonna let me take you out?”

A shock ran through her because she wants to say yes because Rhett is so incredibly warm, he listens, he cares so much. When she looked at him, she didn’t think about Bob anymore, she just thought of Rhett Abbott. Of his bashful qualities, how he could be an absolute flirt but never creepy, it made her feel…adored. Like maybe he thought about her all the time too. It was never too hard to trauma bond, with how high his anxiety got, but it was more than that. Rhett made her feel giddy and safe. 

“I-I want to, I’m just.” she swallows, her eyes growing misty, “I’m not over Bob, I don’t think I’ll ever be, but I’m not ready. I-I never told him th-that I loved him, I never-he was my other half and I never told him that. I don’t want to lose you too.”

The dam breaks, she holds on for so long, not falling apart, wanting to be strong. It was hard to remember that being vulnerable was its own type of courage. Rhett doesn’t hesitate to take her in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Rhett hums, one hand sliding against the middle of her back, the other petting ‌ the back of her head, holding her like she was something precious. Then she stuffs her face into his neck, “I’ll wait, just never doubt that, when  you’re ready? I’m ready.”

“I’m sorry, I-Bob was my best friend ever since I moved to New York. We both had pretty significant mood disorders, so we had miscommunications‌. But once we could slow down and step back, I just felt like there was always this just deep understanding of each other’s situations. I always felt closer with him after we laid everything out on the table, usually our issues had nothing to do with each other. He always made me feel seen and heard. I stayed around for six months after he disappeared, hounded our mutual friend about his disappearance, but from what they knew, he was probably gone forever. It just killed me because even though we had trauma that distorted things, he really tried to see past that to be my friend, and I just never told him how much that meant to me.” 

“I can’t imagine how that tears you up, Y/n/n.” he confides, even with the thrum of jealousy going through him. 

To be the one she spoke about like that, like throughout it all she always looked at Bob and saw all of him. Rhett didn’t even need to see it to know whoever this Bob was, he had to feel the same, or was stupid not to. A man would be so damn lucky to have a woman like Y/n think of him like that. 

Time goes on, Rhett listens to her tales about Bob, listening to the girl he was falling for rant on about another man who was dead. His feelings didn’t matter in that sense, she knows how he’s feeling and he wouldn’t backtrack just because he was impatient. 

Being able to open up with him in a way she hadn’t, even with Bob. There was always fear there, and now. Rhett was the embodiment of the warm sun on a beautiful day, he’s safe and promising. She didn’t have to wonder if these feelings were one sided. Because now Thursday’s were days were hiking or just spending time together and Sunday’s he came over so she could make him food. But they still made time for each other through their busy schedules. 

Rhett had this laugh that could light up the entire room. When she had gloomy days, it was like he always knew. He just shows up to take care of her, helps her catch up chores, make her food, and tries to lure her into some self care. 

She knew they weren’t friends, and Rhett knew they weren’t either. But he never assumed he could have her, he just waits. 

She’s finally tired of waiting, it might’ve been outrageous to say, but he might be the love of her life. She didn’t want to waste any more time not knowing, not being with him. 

It’s a comfortability that changes as she does, he bends when there’s a curve ball. Rhett never perceived it that way. Her changing emotions and tides could surprise him but never hindered his care. 

It finally came to a head about six months later, when spring was turning to summer. Going back out on hikes together. A quiet intimacy in the air, with hands skimming each other’s, lingering touches. Y/n’s self awareness slips as she bumps into him. It was her finally letting go around him, and maybe she wanted an excuse to touch him. 

It’s different now, she’s less scared of the bugs flying around, focusing on the sky above and chittering of animals. To have a freeing feeling, it could feel like just exploring the outdoors with someone, or how Rhett made her feel limitless. There was peace under the sun and being next to Rhett. 

When they get back to the cottage, she leads him to the lake, kicking off her shoes to put her feet in the water. Rhett sat next to her and did the same thing. She leans her head against his shoulder. 

 “You remember what we talked about around Christmas? About you asking me out?”

“Yeah…?” Rhett trails, his heart pounding at the topic even as he tries to level himself with no expectations. 

“I think I’m ready…really ready.” 

Her hand reaches out for his knee, his palm slides over the top, warm and all encompassing. 

Rhett moves back to meet her eyes, “Me too.” 

She turns her face slowly, finally taking him in, completely. She lets her gaze wonder with consideration of why she had waited so long. Why she was waiting now, because Rhett had no expiration date or timer. She had time to savor every single second with him. She does just that as their lips meet for the first time. 

She learns quickly that his love was unconditional, deep, where even when he was upset, he never pushed her away. 

Rhett drives her crazy and tames the wild in her own heart all at once. He goes home with her to face her past, feeling strength with him. A steady anchor, affectionate, protective but not overbearing. He’s quiet with her relatives, but gets along with everyone, much preferring her family's brand of crazy to his own. 

A year later, he moves in with her, into the cottage made with three bedrooms and one master. She kept one of them full of her grandma’s things that she just wasn’t ready to get rid of yet, the other was a collective office, their room, and a guest suite that didn’t have a bed yet. A small kitchen, a decent size living room, a mudroom at the front. They worked together to renovate the place. He helped to maintain the house and contributed ideas that were wholly his, such as the sizable deck at the back for both of them to sit together.

And it wasn’t just their physical space that improved through hard work. 

Rhett had anger issues stemming from the pain of his childhood. Rhett couldn’t have a peaceful confrontation with his brother or father, they triggered something deep in him that just sprang loose with their presence. Then it would turn physical, and for his family it was considered healthy to just let it out, in whatever means that was. Even if there were consequences, it’s what they always went back to. 

Sometimes he would come back from a hard day with bloody knuckles from punching something, or breaking something that he usually always replaced. But it still wasn’t okay, it wasn’t going to stop magically just because he willed it. Rhett would explode with rubble falling all around him, even if he never did it around Y/n, it still impacted her, made that sense of unease-that he could snap at any moment. She would always wonder if it would go too far, knowing that he would never hurt her. But would he hurt someone else? What if he took it too far and really injured himself? 

It was like she was pressing her up to the barrier, waiting for a delayed firecracker that had enough blast to burst an eardrum, just waiting for it to happen without really seeing evidence that it was truly there.

Knowing how Y/n was wary about alcohol, it gave into an established desire to stop drinking, to get help to maintain that. The anger dimmed at first, but what lays underneath, the shame, anxiety, guilt, that was what he struggled with most. It’s also what came out with that release of pent up aggression. 

Rhett saw how many people in Y/n’s life refused to get help which only made her more worried about them. When they avoid help in the name of not being deemed too much or weak. He decided to try it out, listening to Y/n when she said it could be really hard in the beginning. 

He bristled at the suggestion that he was taking the easy way out. An Abbott never did. Yet as he was coaxed to learn how to slow down, regulate, and for once, take his time, he realized how much stronger it made him. 

After going to his own therapy, he really understood how that tore him apart, slowly. Unravelled his sanity by letting every inhibition consume his mind, instead of talking about it, getting to the root of why he went there in the first place. 

They got engaged after ‌ a year, then married the next. 

She finally met his family at the wedding, reluctant to come all the way to New York, but they didn’t really have a choice. If they wanted to show up for him, they had to actually try. 

But that day is all about them. Once it was just the two of them in their suite, Rhett laid her down, making love to her all night, putting all of himself into making her feel good. It was one of the best nights of their lives. 

It all fell together like beautiful cherry blossom leaves flowing to the ground. It was perfect in its own natural way, no need to conform because it just was. There were storms, times where it didn’t feel in bloom or as intense. But it didn’t need to be, it was commitment, a promise to love each other through the good and the bad. It was a promise to weather any storm together. 

---

It’s her day off when there’s a knock at her door, she gets up from her scrapbook table, moving through the house. Out through the mudroom, it’s like she feels him before she sees him, pausing right in front of the screen door. 

Then she opens it, shaken to her core. Bob, in the same Sentry outfit he wore when he left her. 

All of Bob’s own emotions flooded him, how he never truly believed he would find his other half, with his loneliness, depression and trauma he had to be bound to be soulmateless. He felt a little too broken to be meant for someone, maybe he wasn’t meant for Y/n, but she was perfect for him.

No one was flawless, but physically, with her curvy and soft skin, she was. And yet it was more than that. In parts where he felt lost, she did too. Void didn’t have to put her in a shame room for her to enter her own. 

They met a couple years after the Void incident. Bob could never find the courage to tell her how he felt. That he was so deeply in love with her, consumed by her presence when she was around. He is so scared of hurting her, in taking it too far, in her not feeling the same, and he didn’t know how her sensitive soul would take it.

Everything about her is so beautiful to Bob, the way she sees the world, how she is just her, without even trying, she was everything, even when defeated or sad. She had emotions that could flip on a dime, but he understood how intense and deeply that can affect someone. 

They were never together, but there was always an intimacy between them. How they knew how to comfort each other but didn’t promise to take away the pain.

They were so similar in the ways that mattered, loving Bob helped Y/n love herself. Not because of how he treated her specifically, even if he was always attentive and accommodating. But if  Bob dealt with the same intense emotions, and she had relentless understanding and grace for him, why shouldn’t she have it for herself too?

She used to be so in love with him, a shock ran through her system, and the part of her that always waited fulfilled itself.

After he left, all her intrusive thoughts crashed down on her: that she was poison, that every other person (besides the Thunderbolts and her grandma)thought she was just an inconvenience to be around. Going through her whole life trying to fit a mold that was never meant for her. Even after leaving that, it follows her around, an inconsistent leech that sucked blood at just the wrong moments.

There was always a possibility of Bob coming back, there had been no evidence of his body, everyone knew he was practically immortal. Bucky said, “People like that don’t just die,” she could’ve waited, and a part of her always did. 

Then it became easier to accept that he was gone forever rather than just not wanting to see her ever again. No man or entity can keep Sentry locked down, not for long. He must’ve been gone for good, right? 

No. No, he wasn’t. 

She lurches forward before any words can come out, flinging herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. His face buries into her neck, hands sliding around her waist. Bob closes his eyes, breathes in, soaking her up after nine years. 

She had been in her early twenties when he left, now she was in her early thirties. 

Y/n moves back to look at him, her hand coming to his face like she needed to check that he was real. Her gaze moves over his face, to the dark facial hair he now supported, the extra wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. 

Then she moves back, clearing her throat, “Uh, come in.” she offers, nodding, and Bob follows behind her.

It was a type of awkward silence that could only come with Robert Reynolds, but there was softness there too. 

“So, uh where you were all this time?” she asked, setting two mugs down on the table before sitting across from him. 

“I just took off, kept flying until I hit the stars, I guess…” Bob trails, “Kinda just waited for something to happen, I eventually floated right into a planet that needed some help. So I helped out…”

“Yeah but…you just left.” she repeats, emotion wavering in her voice, casting her head down, “I-it killed me Bob, I-.”

Bob watches her, eyes twitching as he takes in how much pain suddenly rushes over her face. Like she had forgotten, and then the memory came back almost as vivid as the actual event. “Y-yelena, she called me and told me you were gone, I didn’t know what she meant,” tears fell down her cheeks, “Days went by and I figured it out,” her tone drops with the despair that comes over her. 

Bob had never stopped thinking about her, he never moved on.

His hand reaches out to sit on top of hers when she feels the ring underneath his palm and lifts off his face wobbles, “You-are you…”

Her gaze follows his, “Yeah, for a couple years now,” she admits, then she lets loose telling him what had happened over the course of almost a decade. A shame quells in her gut, “I’ve always loved you so much, I didn’t know how to move on for so long, then Rhett, just…understood. He accepted that part of me…” she swallowed deeply, not able to look at him, “I would always have a part of me that belongs to you.”

“W-what?” Bob gapes, shaking his head as he processes, “You loved me?”

Those words pull at her, his blue eyes draw her attention and make her melt, “Of course I do, I was scared of losing you so I didn’t tell you but then I lost you, anyway. I regretted not saying something every day for the last nine years.”

A part of Bob’s heart shatters; he never came back because he had no one who actually wanted him there. It might’ve been self loathing and the Void keeping him away from his loved ones, but it was something that went above Y/n, to whom he considered family,  Yelena, Bucky, Ava, John, Alexei.

Deep down he was scared, he ran away when things got hard, when he just needed to take a leap of faith, he pushed her away instead. But he couldn’t blame that for the reason he left, she wasn’t the one pushing him to his limits.

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Y/n confesses, more tears falling, she tries to wipe them away quickly.

At this point, she almost chokes on her anxiety, she hates the rolling in her gut. Because there was indecision on whether this meant anything.  Even if she wishes it weren’t. She didn’t want anything to change, but her heart, it beats like it's reaching out for him. 

The realization of just how much this was affecting Y/n, how one moment she can seem cool and calm, the next she’s breaking down. Maybe she had wanted to break down from the start? Bob wanted to know, he wanted that free discussion they used to have over everything. That even when they were treading on the line of confessing feelings, they were still honest. 

Before he could say anything, the front door opened, Rhett walked into the house, his voice echoing, “Baby?” He comes into the room and freezes when he sees a superhero in the kitchen, “Uh, what’s going on…?”

“Um, Rhett,” she stood, walking over to him, pulled into his tide, “This is Bob.”

“Shit-that’s Bob? Like this is the Sentry.”

Bob stands up. A glow radiates in his eyes as he steps forward to shake Rhett’s hand-who was hesitant. Y/n didn’t even give him a hug yet.

“Yes, Sentry, Robert,” he corrects. Rhett gapes, shaking his hand, only for Sentry to squeeze his a little tight.

Y/n felt frozen, having no idea what to do, “I uh, need a second.” She sighs, tears welling up in her eyes before shuffling through the back door.

“Y/n/n-.” Rhett starts, but the screen door closes with a snap. She hurries down to the lake, which was like a sanctuary for her, trying to catch her breath.

It felt like all the walls were closing in on her, because why did her heart feel so broken? She came face to face with the parts that would always stick with her. The parts she thought she had moved on from. That, ‘A part of me will always love him’, but not all of her. She doesn’t even know this man anymore. Bob was gone for a decade. 

She gets to the dock, slowing down with tears in her eyes, feeling all ‌the memories that came with this location. Her and Rhett’s wedding. The way they had white streamers tied to the bottom of the dock, the wooden arch that Rhett made for her with all of her favorite flowers. 

Rhett, oh god Rhett. She loves him so much, but all the old memories of telling him about Bob. About how much he meant to her. The way he holds her like he never wants to let go, the way he was never afraid to love her. What if he thinks her overwhelm is indecision? Is it? Why couldn’t she get rid of this growing pain in her gut? Like no matter what she does, she’ll be the bad guy. That if Bob left her all that time ago; would he be hurt by her confessing her love for him, just to turn him down? 

She used ‘loved’ not love, because she did love the Bob she knew. But she was no longer that same girl and he wasn't the same guy. 

Rhett takes his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down, before taking off his hat. The worst idea was flowing through his head, losing his wife. He never thought he’d actually face Bob or that he was a goddamn superhero. She used to tell him that he just disappeared, that she thought he died, never going into real specifics. 

Why did she neglect to tell him? Was she trying to hide the possibility that he wasn’t actually gone? Rhett always listened to her when she said he wasn’t a replacement. Right now it was sure as hell hard to believe that. Could the last nine years really mean that little to her? He was always the one to be discarded, to be the scapegoat.  

“You eaten supper yet?” Rhett asked, trying to be cordial, knowing how much Bob meant to Y/n, his Adam’s apple bobbing, turning away from him.

Bob felt a wash of guilt over him as Sentry disappears from his eyes, “No…”

“Well, uh,” he turns back to Bob with a flush on his cheeks, a far away look in his brown eyes, “Feel free to take a shower, I can get you something to wear, I’ll figure out supper.”

Bob replies, voice shaky, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“This is Y/n’s home first, and I’m sure she wants you to feel welcome. She just seems overwhelmed, don’t think either of us expected this..” he clears his throat with a shake of his head, “I dunno what’s gonna happen but, it’s her decision.” Rhett said, voice trembling, his nose beginning to feel itchy, “I’ll make some Alfredo.”

“With sausage?" Bob asked with a smile grin,something delicate about it, contagious, Rhett giving him a wobbly smile even if it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Course.”

Bob realizes Rhett probably wanted some space, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Just down the hall to the right, I’ll leave some clothes by the door.”

“Sounds good…” Bob nods awkwardly before shuffling down the hall. 

Rhett grabs the edges of the counter, eyes squeezing shut, jaw grinding, as his head dips low. When he opens his eyes he has to blink away the tears along his lash line. He pictures Y/n throughout the last nine years, and wondered if she would throw it all away.

Wondering what he’d do if he lost her, how she’s taken his whole heart, on their wedding day, he practically sobbed when she walked down the aisle. Since they first met, he’s thought she’s the most beautiful girl he knows, but he also remembers her calling him ‘Bob’. Was that the reason she was with him? Because he just reminded Y/n of another man? Has all of this been an illusion to her?

Pain of all sorts radiates through the household that night, Y/n eventually coming back-eyes swollen and red. None of them knew what to say, or do.

All this time that question hung over both of their heads: “What if Bob came back?” 

She wished it could be a no brainer, that she wouldn’t trip up over old feelings. Rhett always thought the worst when it came to that. That he would have to pack his bags and be out by the end of the day. Y/n worried about where his head would go, her heart hurting not for herself or for Bob. She hasn’t told Rhett just how much he means to her. 

The moment she thought of the prospect of leaving, it made her stomach churn. How painful it would be to end a love so deep, passionate. She wasn’t leaving Rhett; when it came down to it, she would choose him. There wasn’t any more hesitance in that. 

Rhett is absolutely everything, the most important person in her life. She's never been happier in her life, there was never any moments where she feared he would leave her. They had a deep emotional connection, maybe in the beginning it was a familiarity. But there was a reason she wanted for so long to actually be with him, she didn’t want to use him to fill a gap Bob left. It was so so much more. She promised him she loved him more than anyone, and she wasn’t lying. 

 That she will always love Bob, but her husband came first, even if he said it’s her decision, that she should put herself first. Staying  would be doing that, in prioritizing the dedication, the dreams, the love that went above longing. He truly and tangibly loved her, never fearing to do so. 

When they retreat to their room, Bob offers to clean up dinner, they all are emotionally exhausted.

Rhett had a hard look in his eyes as she closed the door, “I uh can go sleep in my truck.”

“Why would you do that?” she questioned. She hated the tears that misted her lash line, but she couldn’t help it, she just wanted him. 

He can’t meet her gaze, he knew he’d fall apart if he did. Rhett’s not always this emotional, but with Y/n all bets were off. “You probably want him right?” he says, voice shaking and fragile, as she steps in closer, reaching up to take his face in her hands, wishing he would look at her.

“No, I mean…not more than you, I love you Rhett, you’re so patient with me, you always are, and you loved me no matter what. I don’t want him out of my life but you're my husband and I can’t picture a life without you, and I know I can survive a life without him…even if it hurts, it’s going to hurt no matter what, but I don't wanna lose you.” She declares, he breaks, pulling her in by her hips as he falls to his knees, stuffing his face into her abdomen. 

“I need ya darling, so fucking bad,” he sobs, as her digits run through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You-you said he was your soulmate.”

“And you are the love of my life, you are,” she shakes her head, her own tears falling even with conviction in her eyes, “My sweet sweet husband who has never made me feel more safe, secure, and loved. I mourned Bob, even if he will always be a part of me, I couldn’t imagine mourning you, Rhett, it would break me.” she clarifies. 

His palms slide along her hips, closing his eyes as he takes her in, she moves down onto her knees. Cupping his face before connecting their mouths, their collective tears soaking the other’s cheeks and lips.

The two of them move to the bed. She crawls into his lap, holding on to him tight before angling her head to the side to kiss him. Rhett doesn’t let go until she’s fallen asleep, his hands holding her like she’s sacred and cherished. Like he wouldn’t know what to do without her, maybe he’d survive, but it wouldn’t be the same. 

But even with her reassurance, there was a feeling about Bob, so he gets up to go check on him, hopefully quelling his conscience. 

He stops by the living room to peek in to see Bob sitting on the couch, hands crossed over his chest, head dipped down. He looked heartbroken, it was clear he’d been crying too, “Hey…” Rhett trails, crossing his arms over his chest, “You got that super hearin’ don’t ya?”

Bob can’t bear to meet his eyes, shame making the back of his neck heat, “How’d you know?”

Rhett shrugs, walking over to the chair next to the couch, nodding to where Bob sat, “It folds out,” he adds, “But um I read some comics, learned all about him,  always thought Sentry was pretty cool, not much of a superhero guy but I just liked something about him, something real.”

“Well, I am.” Bob sighs, dipping his head low, reminding him how the comic version of him would look bashful and forlorn. Like the words affect him but so does the inability to believe them, “I left because I thought she didn’t want me, god, I wanna leave now too.”

“You shouldn’t, she wants you here,” Rhett replied.

“But you don’t,” Bob mutters, jaw strained and eyes glaring holes into his own feet.

“Okay, yeah…” Rhett starts with a tired gruff to his voice, “I didn’t expect the guy my wife thought died showin’ up, she told me just about everything but never said you were Sentry,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “Man, if she wants me I can’t give that up, she’s…I’m a guy who never thought he was gonna find anyone, sure as hell not get married, and then she just…shows up and I knew it was it for me.”

Bob thought that too. “I understand, I know you two really love each other, I don’t want to break other people to get what I want…I just feel like an idiot for leaving in the first place.”

Rhett reaches over to tap his knee, gentle and reassuring before pulling away. Bob inhales sharply, expecting hurt but being offered softness, his twinkling blue eyes meet Rhett’s, “You’re not, you’ve had a hard life and Y/n is very easy to love. She didn’t want to lose you so she didn’t say anything either, but the way she’s talked about you…you're her other half, and I’d be an asshole if you couldn’t stay in contact. So like I said, you’re welcome here, I-” he shrugs his shoulders, “If you need an ear, just talk to me, just…don’t leave her like that again.”

Bob stares at Rhett, all hard edges, stubble, haunted dark eyes, he looked like a man barely holding on, yet he was being so kind to him, “Why are you so nice to me? I’d hate me.”

Rhett wanted to, he wanted it to be acceptable to get angry, break something, drink. But he wasn’t going to do that. Bob wasn’t here to threaten him or take. He is just as confused about the situation as Rhett is. Had the same indecision glossing in her eyes and the genuine way Bob tries to open up to him. The man, though immortal, was soft, sweet in a way that Rhett just didn’t know how to be anymore. Not with anyone but Y/n. 

If Bob was going to be honest, Rhett sure as hell would try, “You don’t deserve that, she don’t either. It’d kill me if she changed her mind, but I think we’ve all been through enough and I don’t gotta make it worse by being an asshole. I ain’t my brother…” 

There’s a far off look in Rhett’s eyes before offering Bob a half-hearted smile. 

Bob’s tone waivers, “I’m really grateful for all of this, Rhett, thank you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alive, I’ve never seen her so relieved.” Rhett admits, giving him a chin dip, “Let me know if you need anything,” he gets up from his spot, “I’ll get you some sheets, let me get the bed out-.”

Bob’s eyes widen while he nods, getting up from the couch to watch Rhett lean over, digging into the middle cushion, “Mind moving that?” He points to the coffee table, Bob easily picks it up with two hands, setting it off to the side. Rhett gives the handle of the bed a swift tug to get it to unfold, the cushions popping out from their spot.

Bob has no idea why he was looking at Rhett’s forearms as they gently strain to get the bed out, just shaking it off. Rhett clears his throat, going to the linen closet to grab some spare pillows for him, putting on the cases before helping Bob make the bed.

Then Rhett goes into the kitchen, knowing Y/n would be thirsty, it’s his nightly drill before going back to their room. 

Y/n turns over in ‌bed, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, he was just a bit upset, but I told him we want him around, he can stay as long as he’d like.” Rhett said, setting the glass down by the bed, “Imma take a shower, you keep the bed warm for me, alright?” he kisses the crown of her head.

She reaches out for his hand, pulling him back in for a real kiss, “I love you, Rhett, more than you know.”

“Ditto, I love you so much.” he hums, pecking her lips once more, “Get some sleep, I’ll be back in.”

“Promise?”

“There’s no other place I belong, sweetheart.”

----

It was definitely awkward the next morning between the three of them. 

Bob didn’t know how to act with Y/n married to someone else. That she loves Bob, now he couldn’t use the excuse that she didn’t. From the sound of it, he is really important to her, her other half? Did Rhett say soulmate in the bedroom? No, it doesn’t matter. He was too late, but Rhett’s words rang in his head, the conversation that he overheard clearly did too. Bob was done with running away, he’s done it his whole life, but he didn’t need to run from Y/n. 

Everything just happened so quickly on the last mission.

When Rhett leaves for the day, Bob watches as he naturally brings two fingers to her chin, whispering something he ignores for their privacy, before laying a subtle kiss. Bob sees the restraint in Y/n as her hand comes to his waist for a second. Like they didn’t mean to do it around him, but it was so instinctual, a part of their routine. 

Then they let go with flushed cheeks, guilt shimmering in their eyes, which only had Bob feeling his own guilt, then shame. He definitely needed therapy again, he had it for almost five years straight, appointments multiple times a week before he started stepping back out as Sentry. 

They were finishing up their breakfast when she asked, “Anything you want to do today? I’ll go in later today, after lunch,” she begins, as he uses his fork to poke around his plate.

“I’m actually really tired.”

“Oh okay.” Y/n nods.

“But uh, we can still do something for a bit and I wanted to explain more about…everything, Void came out and I lost control, I just felt really overwhelmed after a month long mission and never seeing you, being pushed by Valentina. So I just went until there was nowhere else to go. I couldn’t hurt anyone I cared about, I just found a rock and sat on it…floated off. But I felt like I was truly helping people without…getting anything back, for some reason that felt so reliving,” she listens intently, bringing her coffee up to her mouth.

“Without any expectation, you just got to figure yourself out, got to be Sentry, Void…whatever you needed to be, right?”

Bob’s heart aches at how understanding she is, how she just knew what he meant, “You wouldn’t call it just running away from my problems?” 

“Well that too, but I did the same more than once, and sometimes you just need to run. My wise mind always told me it wasn’t personal.” 

“It wasn’t, my feelings never changed for you,” Bob remarks, nervous as he looks down at his hands.

“Ditto.”

Before he went to lie down, she convinced him to go for a walk around the grounds, her grandma owned a decent chunk of land. The fenced area they walk along, prevented her accidental escapes when she was younger. 

Bob tells her space stories that top any earth mission he’s divulged before, the people he met, saved, helped. The planets he helped survive in the aftermath of that battle. He never felt needed in his life, like he really matters. That he is worthy to have this power rather than wasting it. There was an independence he didn’t feel like he had on earth. 

He goes on to tell her about adventures of bumping into other heroes and villains. From flying into a black hole to almost being eaten by a space monster, the last nine years were full of finding himself. Learning how to let the Void out without losing complete control‌ wasn’t an effortless task, but there were people like him. Who didn’t know how to control their powers, that sometimes destruction was necessary, sometimes things did need to come to an end. But not everything, not the people who were trying to do better, not the people who wanted not just to help him but to fight alongside him.

Void didn’t get along with many people but he fell in line when continuously defeated by logic. “It might sound silly, but meditating has really helped me. I’d just spend…I don't even know how long, especially not nine years, but time passes in a different space…just sitting with my thoughts, learning how to just notice Void but not give in to what he was telling me. It just made things…quieter after a while, not all the time, but to a point where it feels manageable. Where I don’t have to give up complete control or change who I am to feel some sadness or euphoria.”

But it was never enough, soon the hole in his heart that was Y/n shaped grew larger, so he thought it was time for him to face his fears after facing everyone else's. Only to realize how much time had truly passed, just a little longer, he told himself, always expecting her to be there. There was indecision in wanting her to move on, to telling himself he wouldn’t be gone too long. 

Bob just always hoped she didn’t fall into some mundane relationship or settle, that if she didn’t wait, she found something, someone special. And she did.

Otherwise, Y/n told him minor stories of what certain places meant to her-where she found a rabbit with an injured foot, when she found a cluster of marijuana when she was sixteen and her grandma caught her by the lake smoking a blunt. Or when she did get lost in the woods, which prompted the fence, and she just followed along the edge until she knew where she was . 

They head back around for lunch time, Bob growing more exhausted, but knew the time with her was worth it. He follows her through the back door, “You really don’t mind if I stay?”

“No, you can stay as long as you like.” she said, moving over to her water bottle and taking a sip. 

“Are you sure?” Bob meekly asked, watching her with traces of indecision. 

“I am,” she declares, turning towards him, “We both want you here,” Bob feels his finger itch to touch her, so he reaches for her, she easily gives in to him, cupping his hand with his. 

The way his blue eyes would forever and always have some type of power over her. She thought of the times when they were alone, the only barrier was invisible. Where they made complications when in reality there was little to none (aside from communicating). 

Y/n tried so hard not to think about the ‘if’, now it seems impossible not to. It was a whiplash in her mind. 

He’s changed, matured, not just including the beard, but he still is that shy guy at heart, who over thought everything. Who had a heart of gold, even when pain radiates, Bob just wanted to feel safe and keep others away from his shrapnel. 

Bob is the guy she sat on the roof with, looking out at the stars, a part of her was always excited for their gaze to meet. She always loved how he looked at her, the one person she wanted to know his every thought. 

Then she pulls away, “You should go lay down, I’m gonna get ready for work.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he nods, swallowing deeply before heading towards the living room. 

As time went on, it’s very clear they still don’t know how to act with the confusing dynamic. It was like Bob and Rhett waited for a bomb to drop, even if Y/n made her decision. They didn’t know if they had yet. Y/n didn’t doubt her loyalty to Rhett, years of trauma from her parents' infidelity made her heart more secure. Whether her heart was pulling her one way or the other, she had a choice.

It didn’t stop the pain that courses through but she just had to remind herself it would hurt no matter what. That a lot of the things she hung on to with Bob were things she daydreamed about in the past, in what could’ve happened if he stayed. She would tell herself that when she stared too long. 

Not thinking of how he’d sit next to her on the couch while she wrote, he would help with the pronunciation of words, she let him read her mind so she could find the right word. Or when he shows up with her favorite breakfast sandwich and a bunch of other food from the bakery after a mission to refuel. How he would take a shower in her apartment and smell like her strawberry shampoo. Or the time he brought her to a fundraiser, everyone telling them they were cute together and Bob feeling proud to have her by his side.

It was a crowded room, people danced side by side in a gentle sway as an orchestra played on the stage. Bob felt completely exhausted from maintaining the Sentry smile and engaging with everyone. It required him to constantly activate the Sentry persona, like flipping a switch repeatedly, instead of relaxing and being himself. Y/n by his side, even with her own social anxiety, was still an anchor, keeping her arm through his. Leaning in to whisper brief comments in his ear, always giving Bob an out when he was overwhelmed, with an excuse of  Y/n needing a fresh drink or a snack. 

Now they move together on the marble floor, her hands relaxing behind his neck, his around her waist. Bob could let go, leaning his head against her shoulder, whispering how grateful he was when she was here. The words he really wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, but that block of fear, it stopped him but he still pulled her in close. 

They weren’t those people anymore, Bob and her were starting at square one, they didn’t completely recognize the people they are now. He held a confidence in him, like he truly knew he could be on solid ground with himself, even if he still had doubts and anxieties. Like she didn’t need to be his anchor in the storm because he learned how to be his own. He is always going to be sensitive, if Rhett had gotten mad and just kicked him out that would’ve hurt him, but it might’ve been easier. Now he was faced with a whole other confrontation. 

He spent time with her, she had always been so sensitive to bugs, sweat, but now she works in her garden, hands dirty, no mind for the little creatures in the soil or on the flowers. She didn't talk much until they finished in the garden or moved something and she needed help or had a comment. 

It wasn’t uncomfortable, he could tell there was silence even when she’s alone. It made moments where she spoke or interacted so much brighter. Not having to focus on small talk that just wasted her quiet time, Bob enjoyed it.

In a sense, it reminded him of when he’d just float along in space, meditating to the silent echoes of galaxies existing around him. It never made him feel incomplete, lonely yes, but there was something about slowing down and accepting the space between that Bob understood deeply. 

Rhett notices how they look at each other, then ‌he finds himself gazing at Bob. Not out of aggression or guilt, but rather the opposite, he just thought about who he is. How, even with subtle awkwardness, there’s a smoothness there. There’s a deep instinct with Rhett and Y/n to give into this instinct, which could be good but risky to the places that may lead them. 

How in touch Rhett may be with his nature to love things that his wife did. Not just appreciating him because of Y/n but there’s something that touches his soul, or rather someone. 

One day Bob asked to tag along with Rhett, give him an extra hand on the ranch rather than just sitting around while Y/n’s gone. He didn’t hesitate, giving him spare steele toe cowboy boots. Throughout the day, taught Bob how to wrangle herds of animals, how to feed them, going to the stables to brush the horses and cleaning their pens. 

It was Rhett watching just how natural Bob was to ‌farm life. Y/n had to adapt and Bob, it was like he’d really been longing to go with Rhett for awhile or maybe this is just another way to use his powers for good. He helped load the pigs, easily lifting hay bales. It made Rhett do a double take, his own eyes raking over the way Bob’s veins bulge in his neck, yet he wasn’t straining one bit.

Bob’s handy too, knows how to fix things that seem too far gone. How natural it was for Rhett to encourage him if he doubted himself. 

Then one day, he was handing something off to Rhett when everything went black. 

Rhett opens his eyes to be sat in his truck, in front of the local Wabang bar, engine grumbling, his lights shining forward. It’s instant, the fear coursing through his veins like freezing water, his mouth agape, as he tried to process being back in this moment. 

He should’ve driven off without him, but his stupid loyalty to his brother consumed him. 

Perry was heaving, sitting over Trevor Tillerson with his face bloody, a shadow against the wall of the bar. Rhett’s still frozen as the door clicks open, a phantom hand reaching out to the handle before a hollow version of him hops out. Like he’s split in two as the ghost walks over to Perry.

Rhett hisses, “What did you do?” 

“You-you gotta help me.” Perry pleads, searching his brother's face with desperation, Rhett didn’t miss it for a second.

Rhett swallows deeply before the two haul Trevor into the back of his truck. Rhett told himself he was taking Trevor to the hospital, but in reality he’d do whatever Perry asked of him. When Rhett gave himself a way out, Perry took his own. 

Then he snaps back into the moment, jerking away from Bob, “I’m sorry-I usually don’t do that anymore-I didn’t even think-I just, Rhett I’m so sorry.” Bob rambles, fear in his gaze but there was understanding in Rhett’s, even as he tries to catch his breath. 

Rhett’s voice trembles, “That’s uh one of your superpowers?”

“I dunno about super but yeah, I won’t tell anyone about that or anything-.”

“Y/n knows, she knows everything about me.” Rhett clarifies, clearing his throat, “Just uh, try not to do that again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told ya, it’s fi-.”

“No about your brother, I’m sorry you had to clean up his mess.”

Rhett softens, “Yeah, it was a big mess, I never got arrested even if the whole town blamed me.” 

“Why would they?” Bob pressed, while Rhett took a shaky exhale.

“Got into a spat with that guy, Trevor just not even five minutes before, left Perry alone and everyone knew I hit him, brought his buckle in to prove a point, just bit me in the ass.” Rhett explains, giving Bob a shy glance before chewing on his bottom lip. He then added, “I couldn’t be there after that. Everyone was so worried about Perry. It was like my family didn’t care if it would all be pinned on me.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

Rhett lets out a sigh as his heart flutters, “Always been the scapegoat, the problem.”

“You aren’t that for Y/n, she really loves you.” Bob suggests with care, fingers picking at the other.

“She’s definitely something,” Rhett confirms, letting the mask slip, “But I was her second choice.”

“Now you aren’t.” the blue eyed man retorts, “I don’t think you ever were, I think she saw you and just knew.”

“Knew what?” 

“That you’re so much more than a second choice, yo-you’re consuming.” 

There’s a lingering silence while they two look at each other, not strained or unsettled, but the fact that there was something sticky sweet about Bob’s words that clung on to Rhett. “That your mind readin?” 

“No,” Bob said, cheeks red before turning his back to walk further into the barn and grabbing another bag of feed. 

Rhett didn’t understand why his heart was going crazy, or why he couldn’t stop looking at Bob. But now he knew how easy it was to be consumed by Bob too, how lasting it is. 

Not from the Void but how open and understanding he was-it reminded him of Y/n.

He had bigger facts in his life that made the trauma exasperated. Where it may come out in other ways, when he just wanted to be understood. Rhett knew there was a time he would do anything for someone to even try and grasp what was on his mind without judgement, especially when everything went down with Perry. He just wanted one semblance of support when he was terrified of being pinned for the whole thing. It was him always being told he was exaggerating, that everything would be alright, when everyone knew it wouldn’t be. 

There was this urge to talk to Bob about it more, that maybe he would understand, Rhett knew about the drug addiction, the abuse, but not in detail. There were things she kept to herself because she didn’t want to betray his trust, whether he was gone forever or not. 

So the next day, they sit on the edge of his truck, eating lunch together, when Rhett brings it up, “Uh-I had a lot of problems with my dad growing up, I uh, wondered if I can talk about it with you, just cause…I don’t know a lot but I just think you might understand.”

Rhett didn’t know how to be open, especially with another man. He wasn’t supposed to show vulnerability, but strength. But he had to remember there is immense strength in vulnerability, in sharing things that were hard. 

“You can talk about it,” Bob offers with a nod, a compassionate look etched in his brow, before looking back down at the sandwich on his lap. 

Rhett stutters on, “My dad never hit my brother much, but it was like I got the brunt of it, even if something happened with Perry, he’d just shrug it, tell him to do better, then Dad would find the littlest thing to blow up on me about-it was always my fault.”

“M’sorry Rhett.” Bob consoles, his own voice trembling, “My dad uh hit my mom when I was little, then one day I…I stood up to protect her. She told me I was making it worse, started screaming at me so dad hit me, not in the same way though. It’s like…he could let loose. What I’m trying to say is for a long time I thought it was my fault. Even after all the therapy, CBT, DBT, EDMR, exposure therapy, you name it I’ve done it…It genuinely helped but Valentina just kept pushing…like eventually it would just fix my brain. I still felt like I wasn’t meeting her standards and then…I was just done.”

“That’s why you left huh?”

“Yeah…All I knew is I felt trapped and now I had the means to escape. No matter who I was leaving behind,” Bob sighs, grimacing, waving his hand to shoo away a fly. 

“No, I get that, when I left Wabang, I left my niece, Amy, and just…hated leaving her to the wolves but I couldn't be in that town anymore, not even after my name was cleared, it’s just like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Sometimes you just need to run.” Bob mutters with a soft smile, as Rhett turns his head, scanning his side profile, that one muscle in his jaw that tenses. 

“Yeah but you also gotta stay when it gets hard,” Rhett replies with a far-off look in his eyes, “My heart sank when Y/n said it was you, I thought I was gonna lose her, and that idea…hurts my bones. But now I’m glad you’re here, I don’t know if you considered it but I think we’re friends.”

“We are,” he watches Rhett who looks up from the ground to meet Bob’s eyes, the side of Rhett’s lips twitching, nose slightly scrunch to show he was gonna smile. “I haven’t ever opened up to another guy like this, it feels nice.”

“I know what you mean.” the cowboy responds, “I uh, go to an AA meeting in town, don’t think there’s an NA but you’re welcome, someone to talk to.”

“You go?” Bob questions.

Rhett admits, “Yeah I have been for a while.”

Bob hums, “Let me know when the next meeting is…I’m starting therapy next week too. Haven’t been in nine years…”

“It’s always hard in the beginning, I bet even if you’ve done it before.” Rhett confers, “But still if you ever need to talk.”

“Yeah…” the superhero trails, with dipping his head down, “For a long time, I just didn’t know a life without some kind of substance, I was twelve when I started misusing morphine, than found everything I could to get that high…I just wanted the voices to stop and it just made them work harder to get to me, or Void to get to me. So when I wasn’t high it was just as forceful.”

Rhett reaches back out of his shoulder, squeezing with a gentle hand, “Thanks for telling me-.” Bob flinches, and Rhett takes his hand away, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No you didn’t, just…not use to it with other guys…like I said earlier.” he explains, with water in his eyes, not from fear but from a release of it, because he trusted Rhett, in a way that went above friendship or anything else he’s felt with another man. Then he turns his body, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Rhett’s shoulders and holding him tight. 

Rhett freezes in his embrace, but takes a hand to carefully pat his back, before slowly pulling away, “Are you okay?” he presses, softly, an urge to press a palm to Bob’s face but he doesn’t, but they’re close, too close for comfort but neither one of them second guessed. 

“Yeah…” Bob nods, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze as his cheeks flush bright red, before pulling away, to focus back on his sandwich. 

Bob rolls  up the sleeves of his flannel before scratching at his beard, “That fitting well?” Rhett asks. 

“Yeah, thanks again, I’ll have to go get my own clothes soon.”

“Looks good on you.” Rhett comments.

Bob has no idea why his embarrassed blush turns into something else, a bashful smile lining his lips.  He brings his sandwich to his mouth, trying to hide it. 

---

Y/n has a day off again, it’s usually every other week she can get a free day, it’s usually a down day for her anxiety. They go into town to pick out some of Bob’s own clothes, along with ordering some online. It was odd going with someone who didn’t really have a budget, but she just helped him get whatever he needed. 

It’s a slow morning, they stop by the local cafe to get some drinks and treats, sitting side by side by the window, just enjoying each other’s company. 

When they get back, they go on a walk together around the grounds, “How’s workin’ with Rhett?” she asked.

“It’s good, it’s a good way to stay busy.”

“You thinking of staying long term?” she questions, “We can clear out one of the spare rooms, get you a real bed.”

“You want me to stay with you?” 

She pauses, leaning down to pick a White Spring Beauty flower, bringing it up to her nose, “I do.”

“And Rhett?”

“Yeah, I think he likes having you around,” she commented, walking on, his eyes catching the sway of her white dress and cowgirl boots to match. 

Bob was wearing a pair of jeans Rhett gave him, even with own clothes, he liked the denim, it was comfortable. He had a pair of black cowboy boots he was wearing that he picked out online, “He’s really cool.” Bob counters.

She picks up another flower, a spotted Joe Pye Weed, he looks away as the skirt of her dress moves up the back of her thighs, “When did the two of you get married?” he asked. 

“About three years ago, we actually married out on the doc.” she points towards the lake in the distance before plucking a dandelion and stepping in closer before bringing it between them, “Make a wish.”

Bob looks right into her eyes blowing on the flower, the florets disappearing in the breeze, but one of them lands on her cheek. So he reaches out to wipe away, she looks back into his blue eyes, the iris as bright as the day-lit sky. She breathes out shakily, before glancing down and walking forward, “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” Bob relents, walking over to a red clover, gently plucking it from the root and handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she hums, trying not to think of his soft lips when he blows on the dandelion.

“Was it your dream wedding? The one you always told me about?”

“Almost but different, I think I was just wanting to feel special, cherished and Rhett absolutely did that, he does.” 

“Just not down to the last detail?”

She stops again, an enormous bunch of poppies, she plucks one of every color, “I always pictured….” Her breath hitches, Bob watches her steadily, the words drip like blood from her lips, and she never says anything more. She didn’t have to.

“There’s so many flowers.”

“My grandma had more if you can believe, I just have a few patches compared to her. She didn’t need a man to get her a bouquet, she could make her own, and that's what I like to do…Though Rhett does come with me to pick them out at the store,” she smiles, fondly. “helps when I let him.”

Bob suddenly doesn’t have a filter, eyes glowing gold as foreign words fall from his lips, “Did you get with Rhett because he looks like me?” he could’ve slapped his hands against his mouth. 

Everything stops, he cringes as he hears the words, before shaking his too-confident other half away. She sucks in a breath, not meeting his eyes, “Maybe in the beginning it was why I just trusted him, but we didn’t get together for almost a year. Rhett…he didn’t deserve to be a replacement, he’s so much more than a stand in, Bob. I’ve never felt so loved in my entire life, nothing has even been so real.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be that, that I didn’t do anything. I’m just happy Rhett was able to be that for you. I’m sorry I even said anything, it was stupid and-.”

“We talked about this,” she wonders forward, “It was a two-sided mistake, and it’s too late to think about the what if’s. And it was a genuine question Bob, it’s okay.”

“I think I need to go back to therapy.” he tries to joke, half-heartly because he really did mean it.

“Didn’t you find someone in town?”

“Yeah…do you think you could drive me on Wednesday, it’s in the morning?” Bob questions. 

She hums with a sparkle in her eyes, “Of course I can, does anyone else know you’re back?”

“Yeah, I contacted the Thunderbolts but even if Valentina finds out…Not to be on my high horse but they can’t do much to take me.”

“You’d totally kick their ass,” Y/n said without flinching, a proud grin on her face. 

“Well, yeah, I’ve done the superhero thing, if they really need me I’ll show up but I want to live a regular life.”

“With us?”

“If that’s alright.” Bob hints.

“I mean, we’d be a cute throuple.” 

Bob snorts, not because he found it funny, but when something was so undeniably true, he just had to laugh. Yet a thought he shoved away, he wouldn’t tear them apart. It was like she was looking in his head. Like she knew Bob didn’t just want her anymore, not that he wanted Rhett more, He’s always been rather flexible in his sexuality in the past, shared a few kisses off world but nothing more.

Y/n always flashed in his brain, any arousal he had, even head in the clouds as Sentry, faded fast. It’d been a long time since he even thought about anyone else besides her, yet Rhett trickled into fantasies. 

She gives him a yearning expression, watching as he falls into his thoughts, “Bob?”

“Yeah, sorry?” he breathes, while they come closer to the lake, she picks more flowers and plants to add to her collection.

“You don’t gotta be sorry with me, not ever. I understand, remember?”

“Inside and out?” Bob grins. 

Bob hadn’t heard from Y/n for a few days, the two as close as two people could be without making it official, or never kissing.

He knocks on her door and she answers it to reveal what a mess she was. Days of self loathing, hating her body later and she still felt ashamed of scars from years ago. 

It wasn’t that she wanted to punish herself, but it was a spiral about hating how she looked.

“Hey is everything okay?” Bob presses, searching her eyes, and wanting to pull her in close.

She stares, eyes swollen from crying, cheeks puff from constantly rubbing at them, “I-.” she hiccups, before sobs break out, unable to just be okay when it comes to Bob, he made her feel everything, things she didn’t want to feel. 

Bob takes her in his arms, leading her to the couch, “Hey…breathe.” he whispers, gently taking her face in his hands, “It’s me, it’s okay.” She follows his deep breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

“I-I’m so ugly and fat, I have so many scars and marks, I basically can’t wear anything without other people seeing them, it’s so gross.” she slurs in sorrow, tears clouding her vision to see how deeply her words hit Bob.

He shakes his head, petting at her cheeks, “You are the furthest thing from ugly or gross, Y/n/n.”

“But I’m so broken inside and out, I feel no matter what I do, I’ll become a monster.”

Bob pours his heart out, declaring,“You aren’t a monster, you are kind, you care about others, see the world in this soft way that I wish I could. I know how easy it can be to beat yourself up, believe me. You are so beautiful, inside and out.” His hand slides back into her hair to feel the soft stands, “Say it.”

“I’m beautiful inside and out.” she whimpers, leaning into his touch.

It was something they never stopped saying to each other, before he would go on a mission she always told him she loved him, and he’d reply, “Inside and out.” Bob had done a lot for her confidence in her size and scars, always an open ear, always affirming and kind. 

Her lips twitch to the side, dimples indenting as she repeats the words, “Inside and out.” agreeing easily, before leading him to the doc, holding the bouquet while swinging her legs along the edge.

Bob finds a place next to her, they sit in silence for a while, soaking up just being able to sit side by side. 

That night she lays in bed next to Rhett, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t her overthinking about anything specific, but a heavy weight on her chest. Like her limbs were made of sand, sinking into the mattress, somehow feeling alone even with her husband by her side. It wasn’t an unfamiliar emotion, but it was difficult to not let it become all encompassing. 

So she tries to distract herself, sliding a palm along Rhett’s chest to try and rouse him. They hadn’t been in bed for too long but he crashed hard on his work days.

“Baby,” she whispers, rubbing her calf against his, “Need you.”

Rhett’s eyes flutter open, turning his head to the right, towards her, “Hmm?”

“Need you,” she repeats, trailing her hand down to his chest, petting over his lower stomach.

He rolls over to his side, while she cups both of his cheeks to kiss him, desperate to make the pain go away. 

Rhett soothes along her hip with his hand before moving on to her, pressing her into the mattress with his crotch. His cock thickening as he pushes down his boxers to reveal him in all his glory. His cock long, twitching when she bucks her hips into him. He hooks his fingers into her shorts to throw them off to the side, two fingers sliding through her folds to see if she’s wet. And she is, but he circles her clit a few times, the two hadn’t been having much sex lately, so for good pressure he pumps a finger inside of her. 

She moans, gripping on to the back of his neck, before bringing his mouth to hers, he pulls out his digit. To tease his cock along her vulva, wetting himself before pushing his cock into her, her hands tangle into his hair. 

It feels really good at first, Rhett’s cock filling her so well, the slow, tired shift of his hips, the way his tongue dips against her neck. Elbows pressing to the sheets on either side of her, one hand brushing back her hair, caressing her cheek. He slows to grind against her hard, stimulating her clit just right before keeping the tempo with his thrusts.

Rhett knows exactly what she needs, gives it to her like a natural instinct, even half sleep. 

But there’s a thicken awareness between them both, like even while connected so deeply, there was something missing. Rhett thought about how Bob could probably hear them right now, how badly it must’ve hurt him. The ache in her chest he usually soothes, becomes more dull and radiant. 

Tears peak at her lash line, which wasn’t unusual during sex, but Rhett's cock begins to soften. “Shit-.” he winces.

“A-are you soft?” she whimpers.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m just-.”

Then a sob runs through her, “I need you, please.”

He swallows thickly, gently pulling out of her, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine-.” she cries, lip trembling, tears falling down in a steady stream. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you, I-.”

“It’s fine, it happens,” she gasps through a sob, rubbing at her chest like it physically hurts, “It just…I’m in so much pain.”

Rhett knew what the collective problem was, he was laying in their living room. Even though it wasn’t a problem as much as a big question mark. Because could he fix this by telling her how he felt? That he wouldn’t mind…being together?

He couldn’t stand her in so much pain, he just wanted to fix it. He didn’t ask further questions, he just sat up to hold her close, rocking side to side to soothe her. 

Rhett doesn’t know how it would work, he knew he didn’t want anyone else, not some open relationship where they can sleep with anyone. He wanted Bob to be his as much as Bob would be Y/n’s. He wanted to love Bob, he didn’t have a history with the superhero, but Y/n wasn’t only the easy one to love. It still tore him apart inside, not knowing how this could go, how to continue to function either with Bob or without. 

The next morning he leaves very early, too early for Bob to get up to join him, Y/n called in to work and locked the door to their room.

Bob was beyond confused on what was going on when neither one of them showed up for breakfast: Y/n never coming out of her room, the disappearance of Rhett. He waits around, nervously tidying up the house, he tries to check on her again.

“Y/n? Hey…are you okay?” Bob said, softly, knocking on the door. 

When there’s no reply, he gets out his phone to dial Rhett, “Hey,” Bob starts, “You left pretty early…Y/n won’t come out of her room. Is she okay? What happened?”

“Oh um, we can talk, I’ll head back now.” Rhett declares, worry in his voice. 

The next thirty minutes feel like a century, when Rhett comes in, he doesn't look at Bob, a haunted look in his brown eyes. He moves down the hallway, knocking on the door a few times, “Y/n baby, can you open the door? Please?” he waits, jaw grinding while Bob stands at the end of the hall.

Bob has a sinking feeling, like he caused this.

“I’ll uh give her a few, then I’ll unlock the door, sometimes she needs a minute." Rhett sighs, hand on the door. 

“What if something happened?”

“I’ve gone in there before she’s had time, and she gets really irritated, won’t let me touch her, she’s not in the most rational state. Sometimes she just gets so overwhelmed.”

“I know, she…she had a few times where she couldn’t get out of bed, kinda disappeared.” Bob explains as Rhett grimaces, a confliction of emotions soars through the cowboy, not knowing how to tread the situation and what was on his mind. 

“I need a cup of coffee.”

Bob trails after Rhett as he walks into the kitchen, Bob sits at the table, chewing on his lip nervously. “Is it because of me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, I think it has something to do with all of us.” he starts, setting up the coffee machine before pressing the button. He leans back against the counter, elbows angled as he holds on to the edge.

“I can leave.”

“No, that ain’t gonna solve anything.”

“But if she didn’t have to worry about me, it’d be better for both of you.” Bob argues, with no malice but intense apprehension. 

“No, now you’d just have two people worrying about you.” Rhett retorts, the coffee machine beeping, he grabs out a mug, “You want some?”

“No, I’m already jittery.” Bob explains.

Rhett begins with a heavy drawl, pouring the coffee, “Leavin’, you can’t do that anymore, not from us. We want you here unless you don’t wanna be anymore.”

“I do, I do, it’s just gotten so complicated.”

Rhett comes to sit, not across but next to him, “I hear ya.” he nods with a heavy sigh.

“Have you ever thought…” Bob trails, neglecting to make eye contact, blood draws from his lip because he’s chewing so hard. He gasps when he feels Rhett’s hand come to his lip, wiping the blood away with his thumb and then sucking it into his mouth. 

“Gotta get you one of Y/n/n’s fidget toys, don’t gotta hurt yourself.” Rhett remarks, hand in a fist now, nails digging into the skin before taking his advice.

He gets up quickly, rushing down the hall to Y/n’s office to grab out a couple different ones. Bob does the unthinkable when Rhett comes back into the kitchen. His eyes shining gold, he stands, taking Rhett’s face between his palms and kissing him.

Rhett drops the fidgets, heart erratic, melting into Bob, hands coming to the superhero’s waist to pull him tighter, his beard scratching Rhett’s upper lip. Bob’s tongue slipping into his mouth, one of Rhett’s hands coming to the back of Bob’s hair threading through the strands. Then he pulls away quickly, before shoving him back into the table.

“What the fuck, I’m not gay,” Rhett husks, nostrils flaring, the shock that ran through his system, the alert that he was doing something wrong…it faded when he saw the fear on Bob’s face.  When he remembers he’d been thinking about this for awhile, “Fuck-I didn’t mean to hurt you-.” he panics. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Rhett shakes his head frowning, “It’s okay.” he avoids the urge to press his hand to his tingling lips.

When Bob turns his head, Y/n is in the doorway, tears glistening as the worst swirls down on to her.  She runs past both of them, out the back door, sobs pouring out of her mouth. She isn’t thinking straight, it's just a jumble of, ‘What if he leaves you for Bob?’ ‘Does he not love me anymore?’ ‘What did Rhett mean?’ ‘Why did Bob kiss him?’ ‘Why did Rhett push him?’ and they kept going on and on. She didn’t know the difference between what she wants as a person and what her worst thoughts echo. 

“Y/n-.” Rhett starts, following after her, Bob trailing behind. 

“No! Get out! Leave me alone!” she shouts, before crumbling to the ground, knees first, “I-I can’t.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pushed him, I know that scares you-.”

“Do you love him now?” She sobs, neither of the men knew who she was talking to. Bob  moves in front of her on his knees, while Rhett sits next to her, but they both give her space.

“It’s-.” Bob has tears in his own eyes, “I’m confused, I want-what you have but I want to be a part of it not replacing.” his jaw trembling while he glares daggers at his palms. “I made this so much worse, Y/n, I’m sorry.”

It softens both Y/n and Rhett, the cowboy reaching out for Bob’s hand, “I love you, baby, and you didn’t make it worse Bob. M’ sorry for shoving you away.”

Bob lets more tears fall, the three of them in the wild grass, falling apart as a collective.

“I shouldn’t have kissed Rh-.”

“I wanted you to, I was scared and that’s why I ran off to the other room,” Rhett explains, making Bob’s eyes widen and Y/n looks between them with an understanding, “What if…we uh, try this Y/n/n?” he turns to his wife, placing his hand along her cheek, “The three of us, together.”

“You want that?” she sniffles, she clasps the top of Bob’s thigh.

“I’ve been really confused too,” Rhett begins, “I was so upset this morning because it just seems unrealistic, but…I think it makes sense for us.” he rubs his thumb over Bob’s hand, “I-I pushed you away, the reason’s stupid but being gay wasn’t a manly thing to my dad and it was a reflex, Bob…You told me about your dad and I shouldn’t have put my hands on you, not for a second.” 

“Just don’t do it again…in that way.” Bob said, turning his hand to thread into Rhett’s, his and Y/n’s touches felt so good, relieving. “You can touch me though, I-I love it when you guys touch me.”

Y/n smiles brightly, the tears drying up, “I’m glad.” Then she reaches out, cupping Bob’s cheek before softly kissing him, he gasps into her lips, sliding his mouth with hers. He relaxes in her embrace, butterflies swirling in his stomach, he braces himself against her waist. 

When they part, his blue eyes shimmer, tracing Y/n’s face until Rhett’s hand comes to his biceps before sliding to his shoulder, “Can I?” he asks, as Bob nods before the brown-eyed man leans in to kiss him once more. 

It’s another type of spark, something he could really feel with these two people, no one has ever compared. “I love you, Y/n, Rhett, inside and out.” Bob meets Y/n gaze and she smiles.

“Inside and out.” she whispers, then she raises to her feet, a tad bit erratic as she announces, “I’m gonna go swim, help calm me down…”

“I’d be up for a dip.” Rhett counters, standing and brushing off his jeans. 

Bob rises to his feet, his joggers have grass stains on the shins, “Let’s do it.”

It’s quiet as Y/n leads them to the lake, only a couple minutes away, “I’m sorry I got so upset and isolated…I just thought I was going to lose both of you.”

“I’m not leaving ever again, not if you don’t want me to.” Bob declares, reaching for her hand, intertwining their fingers. 

Rhett moves in closer to soothe a hand against her shoulder, “It’s okay not to be okay, just gotta talk to us.” 

She tugs Bob with her as she leans into Rhett’s side, then they arrive at the doc. Y/n moves to the edge of it, throwing down her shorts and throwing off her oversized top, before cannon balling into the lake. Rhett has a grin, Bob freezes, watching her with wide eyes, mouth opened in astonishment, “Oh god, she’s so beautiful.” Bob confesses, while Rhett starts to work on his belt buckle, shucking off his boots. 

“C’mon handsome.” Rhett lures, throwing off his flannel along with his white t-shirt. Bob doesn’t have nearly enough time to take him in before he makes a sizable splash in the water. Y/n still feels somewhat low energy, so she leans back into the water to float on her back. Her soft breasts revealed in the daylight that made Bob choke on his own spit, her nipples hard. 

Bob scrambles to take off his clothing before following them into the water. Y/n swims in closer to both of them, her hair slicked back. She admires the two men: Bob’s broad shoulders speckled with water and freckles, Rhett might be a tad bit shorter, but his shoulders muscles were more defined and glimmers with his own sun spots. They were both so beautiful. 

Rhett’s hair was golden in the daylight, brown eyes remind her of pots of warm honey. He moves in closer to her, catching her around the waist as he swims in closer to Bob with Y/n in his arms. Leaning in to gently press his nose to hers, her eyes looking into his, the intimacy that they lost last night, trickled back in with even more strength to their bond. 

Bob, whose shaggy hair looked like a dark mop, and beard had speckles of gold, prickled with buds of water, his blue eyes matching the dark turquoise of the lake. Even with his size, he’s always able to make himself smaller. But he wasn’t on the outside looking in anymore, he didn’t have to long in silence, he was with them.

Her arm reaches out for Bob, “C’mere.” she ushers with a wave of her hand, he moves into her side, her palm meeting his chest when she leans in to kiss his lips again. 

Bob’s hand splays along her back as Rhett holds her, watching the interaction unfold with passion. Then she turns to kiss Rhett, soft, but the cowboy is always gonna peak in tongue. Y/n keeps her arms hooked around his waist, one of Rhett’s hand holding underneath her behind, the other reaching out to bring Bob in by his waist. Their mouths meet, languish, new, he teases his tongue along Bob’s lips which causes him to moan, before they part. Bob leaned back in to kiss her, hard, she could taste her husband on his tongue. 

They part, panting before Y/n leans into Rhett’s chest, still emotionally exhausted, the water had the sun beading down on it. “Can we go back now? And cuddle?” 

“All of us?” Rhett questions.

“Yes, please.”

“Let me carry her,” Bob suggests. Y/n is carefully passed to him, she angles her to the side. Bob leans in to peck her lips, longingly before treading towards the shore with an easy lift out of the water. 

Rhett climbs the doc, the water falling from his body, he gathers their clothes, throwing on his pants before wrapping the flannel around Y/n’s back. Then he leads Bob back to the cottage, keeping Y/n warm with his radiating body heat. One intimate shower (just short of lustful) later and they find themselves in bed together. Rhett had to get a fan or two because Bob put off so much heat, but it finally felt full and right. 

---

Rhett had to leave for therapy midday the next day, he wasn’t sure how to explain the situation to his therapist. But they had a solid conversation that morning about how all of this would work. That they can be intimate with each other when the other is gone, but they’re a unit, they talk, and need to have open communication. 

The idea of having the other two for all of them felt immensely fulfilling and exciting. 

When Rhett’s gone, Y/n and Bob cuddle on the couch to watch a movie. Her legs slung over his lap, her hand comes to his cheek to redirect his attention from the movie to her. A new sense of affection is unleashed between them, for so long they hold on to the edge. Now they didn’t just have each other, but Y/n was able to share her love with Rhett too. 

“Kiss me,” Y/n pleads.

Bob catches her bottom lip between his-arm curling around her waist to pull her in tighter. Their mouths click together, taking their time to savor the feeling of not only being together. But to feel like they didn’t have to hurt or lose someone to get there. It was slow, like they thought through each movement while her hand rubs against his beard. 

To collectively miss Rhett with every flick of their tongues, Bob’s hand sliding along her ass to spread her thighs across his lap. They lose themselves until they are lustful, desperate, he can’t believe that the weight of her on top of him is real. That her soft lips are kissing his and her hands on him like she needed to touch him. She grinds against his crotch, fingers slipping back into his dark, her tongue passing through his lips. 

Before they know it, Rhett walks through the door, “Hey lovebirds.”

Bob parts from her breathless, flushed, he said what they were both thinking, “We missed you.”

Rhett smirks, throwing off his cowboy boots, gesturing his head towards the hall, “Then lets go to our room.”

Y/n moves off of Bob’s lap, Bob following her towards the bedroom as Rhett trails behind. None of them knew how this would play out.

Bob and Y/n move to sit on the bed, side by side as Rhett closes the door behind him, both ready to follow his lead. They watch Rhett closely as he untucks his flannel from his jeans, unclipping each button to show the white t-shirt underneath, his eyes fleeting between the two. There’s apprehension in Y/n to now be with Bob in front of her husband but she just tried to take every moment as it is. 

Neither one of them moved so Rhett kneels down in front of both of them, leaning towards Y/n, his hand slides against her face before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. She melts, her palm curling around his shoulder. Bob watches with a shaky breath, not knowing who to focus on as Rhett pulls back with a wet mouth. Then the cowboy diverts his attention to the superhero, his hand coming to the back of his neck, slow, hesitant but eager as their lips collide. 

Y/n freezes as a flood of arousal shoots through her, knees pressing in as Rhett puts a palm on her inner thigh, traveling up as his tongue slips into Bob’s mouth.

The tension in the air cracking with sparks, once they part, Bob’s eyes shine gold.

Then Rhett brings one hand to both of their faces, turning them in-the two hovering in closer.

Y/n’s heart beats heavily in her chest, going from his mouth to his eyes, breath deepening with anticipation. Before they connect, drinking in each other's air, Bob’s hand comes to her waist. That beard scratch would never not make her shiver, nose squishing together, he leans his head to the side to kiss her deeper. 

It felt even better with Rhett watching, like Bob wasn’t doing something wrong but putting on an innate show for the man. His hand petting at both of their thighs, wondering, curious, not controlling but domineering in a spine-melding way. A click sounds through the room, mouths wet with Bob’s drool, as Y/n’s fingers tangled into his dark brown hair, her upper lip prickling with his beard rubbing against her. 

Rhett stood up, palming at his crotch as the two got carried away, just like on the couch before. The way she let go the same way she did with Rhett. Bob’s large hand encompassed her face so they couldn’t part. 

Rhett throws off his shirt to reveal his tattoos, making both of their faces turn towards the cowboy at the sound of his belt clinking. Bob’s breath hitching as he took in the black ink on his skin that just made sense for Rhett. He wanted to lick the skin, bite around them to show Bob could mark him too. Rhett rids himself of his belt, tugging off his pants to show the way his long cock dented in the confines of his boxers. Bob waits in suspense to see what was underneath there, how it would look in Bob’s mouth, in Y/n’s pussy. His own thick erection aching in the thin material of his joggers, making the bulge prominent even through the layers. 

“Y/n show him how beautiful you are,” Rhett husks, she takes him in with a few blinks, it was thrilling to know just how much power he had over her and Bob. They would do whatever he wants, she knew she would, he knew how to take control when they want to give up their own, Bob didn’t have to say anything for Rhett to know, “C’mon be my good girl.” 

She stands with nervous legs, turning towards the door as Rhett sits down in her spot. She turns around with her skin heating up underneath the pressure of their ardent gazes. Y/n makes eye contact with Rhett, there wasn’t a question of permission, he knew she wanted to be his good girl. But one of her worst fears were rejection of her body, of her flaws that she picked apart in the mirror and dwelled on in therapy. 

Rhett knew how she beautiful she was, he had no doubt that Bob would find just as gorgeous as he did. He reaches his hand out for hers, squeezing with reassurance, searching her eyes, "Remember what I said?” 

She has tears glimmering in her eyes, there’s a soft shake of her head, so he repeats himself, still dark with arousal but gentle, “Show him how pretty, how beautiful you are, be my good gorgeous girl.”

She softens under those gentle brown eyes that hold no second thoughts, not in how she looks or still how strong their love is. Her hands tremble as they come to her shirt, she looks at Bob who’s patient, not sure what to say because he didn’t want to come off wrong. He had thought about this moment a million times, the little peaks of skin he got over the years, coloring his thoughts, but never the full picture. 

“I don’t doubt you’ll still be the most ravishing woman in the world.” Bob promises, she steps towards him, giving him a shy smile. “Inside and out, Y/n/n.”

 “Can Bob do it?”

“Hmm.” Rhett hums. 

“You want to?’ she questions, Bob breathes out shakily, hands tremblings as they come to her curvy hips.

“I do.” His palms slide underneath her shirt to pry the material from her body. 

Once disregarded over her head, he takes in her plump teardrop breasts that almost stretch her bra too tight. But his hands start on her waist to feel the soft indentations of her plush stomach, marks lining the skin. 

Bob sighs, “You’re so perfect…”

Her face grows hot, spreading to her chest down to make her warm in other places. Those dark and stormy blues meet hers as he cups her breasts in his hands. Rhett leans into Bob’s side, hot breath on Bob’s neck, “Like she’s sculpted just for us.” He takes Bob’s earlobe between his teeth, making him shiver.

She almost feels overwhelmed by the attention, their hungry gaze that devours her before their mouths can. Arching into Bob’s touch as he presses his face forward to kiss along the crevice of her chest. His hand splays against her ribcage before skimming along her soft rolls to unhook her bra. 

Rhett gives her a lingering look, knowing how nervous she’d been to show him all of her, years ago. He saw the glint of fear, the way the light catches just right to show water glistening in her eyes, how she takes a bated breath. 

Once they’re revealed to his eyes, a guttural groan leaves him before leaning in to bury his face into her bare cleavage. “Dreamt about this so much.” Bob confesses, moving back to let his mumble audible, before grasping a tit to lick at her left nipple before sucking it into his mouth. 

Bob’s hard cock pressing through his joggers, he lets go of the bud, lapping, before tugging her in close to take her other  nipple between his lips. A hand slides down her back into her waistband, grasping her ass. Her fingers drag through his hair, the tears that fall aren’t from fear but lust as she trembles on a moan. 

Rhett leans forward from his spot of watching Bob’s worship, lips moving along his neck, sucking while his hand glides up to the bulge in Bob’s pants. Who twitches in his boxers, Bob tugs off her leggings, then Rhett steady’s her to step out of them. 

Then Bob pulls her into his lap, another side taking over while he loses himself in finally being able to have her, “Take off your shirt.” Rhett husks to Bob. Rhett’s large warm hand moving from Bob’s bulge to peek underneath his shirt. Before prying it off, the only hindrance was the fabric getting caught on his broad shoulders. 

Rhett’s lips begin to kiss only his upper arm to the line of his shoulder. Y/n’s hands frame Bob’s face to reunite their mouths that were wet and eager. Rhett whispers in the superhero's ear, “I bet she’s soaked.” She turns her head to hover in closer to Rhett’s face before catching his mouth.

A languish kiss happens right in front of Bob until Rhett turns his face to harshly mesh his lips to Bob’s. He breathes out through his nose as Rhett’s hand flattens against his flat abs to grip his erection again. “You’re so hard.” Rhett groans, rubbing his nose against his jaw, “But I am too, you’re both so fucking hot.”

Y/n pants, leaning in to skim her teeth against the other side of Bob’s neck, as Rhett slips under his joggers, “This okay?”

“Yes.” Bob huffs, hips lifting to meet his touch, Rhett’s hand slips under his briefs to take his cock in his hands. He moans into Rhett’s mouth as Y/n shifts off of him to rid him of his sweatpants and underwear.

She stays on her knees, spreading his thighs. Rhett pets at the back of her head, as she grips Bob’s length, leaving kisses on the head.

“God I’m not gonna last-haven’t in so long…”

“You waited all that time?” she mutters before parting her lips, tongue peaking out, then she begins to ease his length into her mouth. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about ‌ you,” he bucks his hips into her, “Sorry-I’m not very experienced either.”

“We got you.” Rhett assures, as Y/n gently bobs her head, moving back to swirl her tongue around his frenulum before taking him deeper, “You say stop and we will.”

Y/n pulls off of him gasping, “Always take care of you, Bob.” she adds, before taking him into her mouth again, lips stretching wide around his girth. He moans into Rhett’s mouth as they meet messily, one of Bob’s palms meets Y/n’s head. The other comes to Rhett’s hair, consumed in their love, a relentless push and pull, but never taking-giving. 

Bob parts, “Please, wanna be inside you, Y/n/n.”

She pops off of him, spitting on his tip before spreading along his shaft. “Be a good girl, come sit on his lap.” Rhett seduces with a dominant tone that wracks them to their core. She stands with wobbly lustfilled limbs, pressing her panties down her thighs before crawling into his lap. “Make sure she’s nice and ready, touch her,” her husband guides, Bob’s hand moving between her thighs, looking into her eyes as his middle and pointer slip through her folds-to feel the wet, sticky arousal seeping from her.

“So wet,” Bob sighs.

“She likes it when you rub her clit, don’t you, baby?” Rhett adds, throwing off his own boxers for his long cock to just forward.

“Y-yes.”

Bob’s finger teases along her before finding that button of nerves that makes her jolt forward, he smiles, scanning her face as her eyes flutter shut. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, a goddess.” His eyes shone gold, but instead of flashing, they radiated, before staying in a twinkle.

“Fill her with one of your fingers, gotta be gentle.” Rhett said, while he put his hand in front of her mouth. “Spit.” She does as he says, saliva hitting his palm before massaging at his cock.

Bob’s dick pressing into her thigh, skin soft even while hard and hot, not as long as Rhett but thicker, cut. While Rhett tilts to the side, veiny foreskin pushes back as he strokes himself. She ached with a steadiness, clenching around him, “More-more.” she whines, he thrusts another finger inside of her.

“Curl em’, and hard, get that spot inside her that makes her scream.” Rhett coerces, pre-cum bubbling of his tip, watching the way Bob’s muscles tense in his arm, how wet she is around his fingers.

“How would I kn-.” He does as directed before her back arches, fluttering hard around him as she cries out.

“Just like that, don’t speed up yet.” Rhett describes, spanning a hand along Bob’s back to assure him, “Doing such a good job, Bob.”

Bob turns his head to kiss Rhett again as Y/n’s hand goes to his shoulder, moving her hips with each movement. “Please fuck me-.”

“Hmm, gotta be patient, baby, I know you’re so close.” Rhett drawls, his own hand between Bob and Y/n to take his cock in his free hand, gliding his hand from her collected saliva. Bob turns his head back to Y/n, teeth skimming her neck before laying a bruise against her collarbone, groaning into her skin as Rhett squeezes the tip of his length. 

Then, a particular thrust of his digits throws her over the edge, trembling, as she crashes her head against Bob’s shoulder, trying to catch her breath. “Need more-.” she coos, barely audible, but to his ears it shot through him like sonic blast.

Bob fingers slip from her, standing with her in his arms, effortless with his movements as he presses her into bed and devours her lips. Her legs clung to his body, “Are you ready?” he questions with urgency.

“Yes,” she pants, he takes his cock in his hand before running it along her folds. 

Rhett watched, moving back against the headboard for a good view, Y/n glances over at him, his wedding ring glistening on his free hand. She gasps when Bob begins to fill her up, “Oh my god.”

“That okay?’ Bob breathes, palm spans against her cheek.

“So thick-.” she whimpers, a bit of an ache, tears steadily pricking at her eyes.

He shutters at her words, the way she surrounds him fully as he bottoms out, it was all-consuming, “God your so-.you feel so fucking amazing.”

Rhett sees the tension as Y/n pulls Bob in close, foreheads together, “I love you.” she mutters as Bob sighs, meshing their mouths together while offering her passionate, slow thrusts to warm her up.

“I love you so much.”

Rhett’s head tilts back on a moan, “Makes love to you so good.”

Bob leans back to smile, bashful, urging his hips with more vigor but trying not to be too desperate, he hurts her. Then those dilated dark blue eyes going back to Y/n, she rolls her head to the side, to see Rhett, she clenches around Bob-drawing out a wanton moan.

Y/n threads her digits in his hair, to somehow tug him in closer, “Oh fuck-.” another hand sliding down the firm muscles, broad shoulders and down his back. 

“Am I doing good?” Bob husks, going off whims, the way she responds is enough, hips bucking, whines were a constant. 

“So good.” she hiccups.

There was so much time apart, it was over, it wasn’t only them, it was fuller. It’s so many broken pieces that all fit together perfectly. 

Rhett grips himself harder, focusing on his tip, foreskin dragging along, the swell festering in his stomach, the more Bob loses himself in Y/n, the further she goes.

“More.”

“Her clit, baby, make her cum.” Rhett rasps with that drawl that makes her moan harder.

Bob rocks in harder, fingers massaging her clit, her back arches from the bed, pussy fluttering, “I’m not gonna last-.”

Rhett moves over to the bed, bringing his cock just above Y/n’s face. It only makes the knot in Bob’s stomach tighter, reaching a place in Y/n that has her cumming with full body shakes. Bob lets go, cum spurting inside of her, holding on to her hard, while Rhett’s cum splashes out on Y/n’s face, her tongue poking out flat for him.

All it comes to a standstill, Y/n melting against the comforter, but Rhett wasn’t done. Bob leans in to lick some of the sperm off of her face before kissing her. He gently pulls out of her, breathless, “Lay on the bed.” Rhett nods.

The cowboy moves with a finesse, grabbing Y/n, careful as he adjusts her in his lap. Bob leans back the pillow that smells like her, feeling spent after not having sex for so long. Rhett pets at the back of Y/n’s head before kissing her forehead, “Wanna give me more? Give Bob a show? You're so fucking pretty, the fucking star, even better when you're being fucked.” He rambles in a deep, thready voice. 

A lazy smile stretching across her face before softly kissing his mouth, “Yes.”

Rhett gives her a salacious grin turning to Bob, “You want that too?”

His voice was small, “Y-yes.” Bob stutters, already feeling the wave of arousal over him, his stamina slowly coming back to the surface. The serum coursing through his veins that lit his libido on fire, that made him hard as a rock. 

Y/n readjust herself, grasping at Rhett’s long cock that never softened. His hunger for both of them consumes his own sex drive, she teases her sensitive vulva, biting her lip. Rhett takes her hips in his hands, a cry echoes throughout the room when Rhett presses in hard without grace. She clutches onto his shoulders, her eyes half-lidded, “Rhett!”

“Yeah, too much ain’t it?”

“No, no want it.” Y/n whimpers, as he grips her plush lovehandles to guide her up and down his length. She buries her face into his neck, digging her nails into his scalp, Bob’s cum running down Rhett’s cock. He grasps the back of her head to connect their lips, tongue delving into twine with hers. 

Her bones feel like they’re made of jelly, but her eagerness urges on the sway of her hips. So over-sensitive, quivering but so wet, hungry for more. Then he angles his hips to clap in harder to make her squeak, tears running down her face. Rhett’s lips met her jaw, kissing and sucking over her neck, nosing the marks that Bob left. 

Rhett turns his head to look at Bob with his hands clutched, eyes glowing gold as he stares at the two of them, his erection throbbing. 

“C’mere Bob,” Rhett demands with gentleness. Bob nods breathlessly, Rhett moves on to his back, Y/n’s palms land on his chest. “Wanna suck your cock.” 

Bob’s jaw trembles, “Do it.” he pleads, moving on to his knees before directing his shaft to lips, swollen. 

Rhett’s pink tongue coming out to invite him, Bob enters his length as his tongue runs along the underside. He moves back, a feverish gleam in his brown eyes, “Dunno how to do this,” he admits, then not knowing who he was directly speaking to when he slurs, “Use me, baby.”

Y/n bounces up and down before grinding into his pubic bone to stimulate her clit. Rhett’s hands clap down onto her ass, squeezing just as Bob drives his cock forward, Rhett’s cheeks hallowing. She watches them, driving her lust on, feeling earth shattering pleasure. An energy to get to that high she wanted and to have Rhett fill her up too, a moan exits, loud and making both men pulsate at her enthusiasm. 

Bob grabs onto Rhett’s hair, his body heating up, thrusting and using him just like Rhett wanted, a groan reverberating down his length. The closer she gets, the more she squeezes ‌ him with her tight walls. Her hand comes to Bob’s shoulder for better leverage. He lurches forward to smack their lips together.

“So beautiful…”

“Inside and out,” she whispers.

“Come pretty girl.” Bob grumbles, licking past her lips, an electric quality to his actions and words, they take over something in her brain. 

She swivels her body, whimpering before shattering, screaming at the heat that washes through her. The intense spasming around his length, sucking him in and soaking that makes him jerk up to fall apart, Rhett can’t help but moan roughly, “Rhett-.” Bob whines, cumming into his mouth, gasping, petting at his messy hair. 

He gently pulls away, noticing how red Rhett’s cheeks are, “Are you okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” Rhett sighs, while Y/n collapses on his chest in a heap. Her hand reaching to touch Bob, “You okay?” he asks Y/n, petting at the back of her hair, as she shakily pulls herself off of his length. She lazily hums before falling between both of the men, splaying her hands against their chest.

“M’perfect.” 

end note: there might be a part 2…i have some more written just didn’t think it fit here lmk in the comments if you are interesting in seeing more of these three! or just comment anything :)

"Happy to take your money, Garcia. My money's on the mobster," he quipped, throwing down a ten of his own and gesturing at an alpha with slicked back hair on the inside of the booth a few from the group had taken up residence in. He had his arm around the only female in the pack and was quietly chatting with a very animated man with an obnoxious gold chain and the kind of showy muscles that come not from hard labor like the ones under the sleeves of the alpha they'd deemed the Cowboy. This one that Bob quietly referred to as the Greaser had a small, barely perceivable smile and watched his mate with a fondness that made Bob's own heart ache. As much as he hated to, Bob had to admit Jake might just be right. And Bob wasn't even sure the cowboy was an alpha despite the rest of the group readily agreeing.

Mickey seemed to be having some doubts as well. He smiled at Hangman, but it came off as put on, the kind of confidence his erstwhile teammate never had to fake. After all, Jake Seresin was a neverending well of self-regard.

"What makes you think that? Yeah, the mobster is definitely an alpha, but he's not commanding the space the way the cowboy is." Nat, an alpha herself, turned to Bob and rolled her eyes.

Hangman grinned. It looked less inviting and charming the way it did when he flashed it at the single betas and omegas who came to the bar and more the smile of someone who knew they'd won the game before it even began. Fanboy's cheery grin visibly faltered.

"I tried to chat up the female," Jake admitted, much to everyone but his chagrin. Even Nat raised her eyebrows, but Hangman was too busy being smug to pay their surprised reactions any mind.

"That's a level of ballsy I didn't think even you were capable of, Seresin," Rooster shot at him, taking a lazy sip of his beer, face nonplussed even when Jake turned his Cheshire grin to the squad's only omega.

"What? You jealous, Bradshaw?"

Before Rooster could bite back, Payback cut him off.

"Get to the point, Bagman. At least give Mickey the courtesy of knowing why he's losing money tonight." When Mickey shot him a fake hurt look, Reuben just shrugged and grinned. They all knew that Fanboy's proverbial goose was cooked.

"Right, so where was I?" Jake drawled. He hadn't taken his eyes off Rooster, who was doing his best to ignore the obnoxiously cocky alpha who was blatantly peacocking for his attention. Again.

"They need to fuck and get it over with," Nat muttered into Bob's ear right as he took a sip of his (non-alcoholic) drink. He should've known to brace himself the second she leaned in conspiratorially, but her little asides routinely caught the WSO off guard. It took a kind of effort Bob had practiced as long as he'd known Phoenix, but he was able to swallow his mouthful of Sprite without sputtering or choking. His glass, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

Fortunately, Phoenix was on top of it, instantly mopping up the spilled drink with the kind of speed and efficiency that meant she'd already carefully weighed the pros and cons of her snide remark before it even left her lips. When the others turned towards them, concerned, Bob waved them off, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin Natasha handed him with a smirk.

"Anyway," Hangman said, finally turning to face Fanboy, "I was talking to the female of the group - definitely an alpha, by the way - and the greaseball glared at me like he wanted to blow my damn head off. He stormed over, put his arm around her shoulders, and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost."

"What did he actually say? The exact words used?" Coyote spoke up.

Jake only grinned more. "He told me to get my goddamn hands off his girl and fuck off."

Most alphas would be at least repentant about treading on another's territory as laughably outdated as that notion was, but Jake just laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Typical.

The squabbling only got louder, so Bob used his empty glass as an excuse to get away. His call for refill requests fortunately was ignored just like it normally was, so he didn't have to haul half a dozen various beers across the crowded bar. And he didn't have the voice of his mom in his ear, scolding him for not being a gentleman like he did when he didn't ask at all. It was a win-win all around.

That was one thing about being the quiet beta of the group. When he was younger, Bob resented how easily overlooked he was. 'A wallflower,' his sisters called him when he told them about how he was always passed over by his peers at school. 'A sweet, upstanding young gentleman,' his grandma declared him to be as she pinched his cheeks until they hurt. 'A late bloomer,' his pa deemed him when Bob didn't get the same growth spurt at the same time all the other boys did. 'Just like your dad,' his mom would say with a wistful smile, no doubt thinking about their younger years. He didn't like any of it.

But, grudgingly, Bob Floyd learned the benefits of being generally overlooked. Anything he did well always shocked and impressed the others around him. The few moments he'd let his wit out to cut like a fresh rapier, his opponents were always thrown off. And the few people who did notice him, like Natasha Trace and, eventually the entire Dagger Squad, were the kind of friends you made for life, the ones who saw Bob for who he was and liked him for it.

Which is why it surprised him when one of the omegas from this new pack looked straight at him from across the bar and gave him a faint smile. Bob had to fight the immediate urge to turn around, to see who else this man was looking at. But he saw the eye contact and the way the omega appeared briefly hesitant at Bob's lack of response. And his blatant staring. So quickly, Bob smiled back. It was perfunctory but natural. Not one of those he'd give in the hallway while passing any number of faceless, nameless officers he'd most likely never see again. It was genuine. And even across the room, the omega seemingly sensed the sincerity, and his face relaxed.

Whatever little moment was or wasn't happening got abruptly interrupted when another bar patron accidentally walked right into Bob, who barely avoided the man's drink spilling on him. He'd been in this situation more times than he could recall. Fortunately, this man that Bob quickly clocked as another beta, one with long brown hair and a gentle face, acted more concerned with Bob's state of being than the condition of his now half-spilled glass of white wine.

"I'm so sorry," the beta said, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table and checking Bob over for errant stains. "Don't know how I didn't see you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bob assured him with a smile. Fortunately, his dress shirt was just as clean and crisp as when he'd put it on after drills that afternoon. "No harm done. It happens all the time."

Their interaction was fairly short: the stranger apologized a few more times, tried to start mopping up the spill with his handful of napkins until Penny threw Bob a spare rag to use instead, and even turning down a free refill (a first that he could remember from Penny), declaring that the incident must be God telling him that he's cut off for the night. It didn't surprise Bob when the handsome beta walked back to the corner with that strange pack, right into the arms of a different small omega who immediately inspected him like he'd been in a serious accident as opposed to the human equivalent of a fender bender. Bob watched as the beta reassured his mate, nuzzling his forehead against the omega's cheek until the latter visibly relaxed.

"Weird evening, isn't it?" Penny asked when Bob finally stepped up to the counter, placing his empty glass there for a refill.

"Yeah, there's something about that pack," Bob admitted, watching as the bartender swept his old glass away in a motion as easy as breathing. "The squad's been taking bets about them all night."

"I meant the two spills in less than five minutes, both of which you were involved with," Penny said with a grin. Bob had the decency to blush, something that only made Penny laugh mirthfully. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I won't charge you a clean up fee."

Quick as a blink, the bartender turned to the soda fountain, filling up a brand new glass. She turned and set it down on the counter in front of Bob and popped a new straw in it in one fluid motion with the kind of easy grace that always secretly astounded the pilot.

"By the way, you left your jacket," Penny added, nodding over to a black lump of fabric in one of the bar chairs.

Confused, Bob picked up what appeared to be a much-loved but clean hoodie with the name of some band he didn't recognize splashed on the front. Bob Floyd didn't wear hoodies, preferring zip up sweaters instead. And he certainly didn't listen to the kind of music where the band spelled their name in letters so jagged and stylized that he could barely make out the words. But he could see why Penny thought it was his. Written on the label in bold, sharp script were three familiar letters - B O B.

Before he could do more than process the name, a voice came from behind him.

"Um…that's mine, actually."

It was a nice voice: low, quiet, and so soft around the edges that it was almost a hum. It was the kind of voice that was more used to rounding the ends of sentences into a question even when stating an objective fact. The kind of voice Bob could easily imagine murmured into his ear late at night, one he could feel through a rumble in a lover's chest pressed against his back.

Maybe it should've been a surprise when Bob turned around to see that omega from the new pack, the one who smiled at him from across the room. But for some reason? It wasn't.

His voice fit his appearance. Whether it was the mop of brown curls, the cozy and clearly well-loved sweater, or the openness in his face, one word came to Bob's mind: soft.

But there was more to this omega than that. There was some steel there. Even mated omegas tended to avoid being alone with someone unmated that they didn't know. Even a fairly harmless beta like Bob could prove a threat in a room full of liquored up and rowdy patrons. But this omega didn't even seem nervous about Bob himself, just about interrupting his conversation with Penny.

And when Bob spent too long staring at this handsome stranger, those eyes went from warm and friendly to flinty and hard. The tentative smile on his face stretched taut, as if putting on a gruesome mask of the kindness that was previously on his face.

Before the omega could ask, Bob quickly blurted out, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to stare. It's just…" He gestured down at the tag and the faded name in Sharpie, his words failing him.

"Surprised someone still writes their name on the inside of their clothes as an adult?"

And a sharp sense of humor to boot. Bob added that to his mental tally of this omega who was becoming more fascinating by the minute.

"No," Bob said with an awkward little laugh. "No, it's not that. That makes sense if you're living with other people. Keeps you from getting your clothes stolen."

The stranger nodded, his stance becoming slightly less defensive even as he crossed his arms in front of him.

"I was just surprised is all," Bob continued, pointing at the tag. "Penny, the owner, thought this was mine."

The man across from him paused, blinking rapidly, a cute little crease of confusion forming between his eyebrows.

"Wait, but…" He pointed at the name tag on Bob's shirt, the one that said "FLOYD" in all capital letters.

"Last name," Bob explained. He extended his hand to shake before introducing himself. "Lieutenant Bob Floyd."

The other man paused, eyeing his outstretched hand hesitantly. This wasn't exactly a typical greeting to a mated omega, but Bob wagered this wasn't your typical mated omega anyway.

After a moment of hesitation, he took Bob's hand, giving him a firm but friendly shake. "Bob Reynolds. No fancy title. Just Bob."

Their hands lingered perhaps a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, and Bob had to ignore the way his heart pounded just a hair faster.

They talked for what felt like minutes but stretched out to over an hour. On the surface, the two Bobs had little in common beside their names. After all, what would a straight A student turned decorated Navy lieutenant have in common with a middle school drop out who spent most of his adult life struggling with addiction and housing insecurity even have to say to each other? Yet they continually found common ground.

"Vodka soda?" the Other Bob asked as Bob took a new glass of Sprite from Penny. At Bob's frown of confusion, Bob Reynolds gestured at the drink. "Drinking a vodka soda?"

"Oh!" Bob Floyd exclaimed, chuckling a little nervously under his breath. He was used to the teasing from his heavy-drinking friends, but experience didn't make the sobriety talk any easier. "No, just a Sprite." Pointing at the dark cola on the bar next to the other man, he added, "Rum and Coke?"

"Close," Bob R. said with a little laugh of his own. "Just hold the rum and replace the Coke with a Dr. Pepper. I've been clean for two years this coming February. Not breaking that for a shitty cocktail."

"Oh." Bob knew from the way the other man's face tightened just a fraction that he'd made the situation awkward just that much weirder from his reaction. So clearing his throat, he added, "Congratulations. That's a huge accomplishment."

When Bob R. waved away the compliment, Bob F. doubled down.

"No, seriously. That's impressive. I don't drink because I don't like the way it makes me feel and it tastes gross. But you're here at a bar, addiction ground zero. That must take a lot more self-control than it seems. You make it look easy." He spoke with such sincerity that it seemed to strike the omega speechless for a moment. The other man blinked a few times, eyes darting around like he was trying to process the words.

Bob gave him that space, let him sit in the compliment and figure out if he even wanted to respond to it. Unfortunately, he took a sip of his drink when the Other Bob found his words. And even though he'd learned how to keep it together with Phoenix, he had no defenses against this new Bob.

"Bars aren't that tempting to me. Now a crack den? That would be a problem. I'd be like a kid in a candy shop."

A few minutes later, Bob Reynolds apologized for making the lieutenant choke on his drink, but to Bob Floyd? It was worth it to make the other man laugh so hard tears pricked his eyes.

Naturally, conversation shifted towards their respective groups. The Other Bob was the first to offer up details about his pack.

"So, the beta that bumped into you? That's William," Bob R said, pointing out the man with the long, brown hair and friendly face. "And the omega in his lap? That's Miles. They're bonded. Joined the us together a few months ago."

All of the pack were introduced in turn, so Bob was able to put an actual name to the unofficial titles the Dagger Squad had dubbed them.

Bob R agreed that "Cowboy" was an appropriate nickname for the one called Rhett, not just because he wore a cowboy hat and boots. Finding out he was a former pro bull rider was a shock but nowhere near as much as finding out the cowboy was an omega.

"I thought he was maybe a beta," Bob admitted, trying not to stare at the man out of sheer curiosity. If the cowboy noticed how closely both of the men at the bar were watching him, Rhett gave no indication of it. "I've never seen an omega who's built like that."

When the other man's cheeks turned a brilliant shade of bright pink, Bob tactfully said nothing. But he found himself glancing at the seat of the tall omega's pants, idly wondering just how built this cowboy really was.

The well-dressed alpha sitting nearby was introduced as Todd, an unlikely pairing for a rough and tumble country boy like Rhett. But, according to Bob R, they joined the pack as a mated pair.

The three in the corner booth were all directly mated to the Other Bob, a revelation that didn't come as too much of a surprise from the casual way he'd noticed them touching the omega all night. Nothing untoward, of course. Just leaning against him, holding his hand, draping an arm across his shoulders. Little careless gestures that spoke of quiet companionship and a deep affection.

The muscular beta with the gold chain who was now visibly playing footsie under the table with his two alphas was Jordan. The only female in the pack was indeed an alpha like Hangman had claimed with a pretty name that suited her well. And the one with the slicked back hair, the alpha who'd confronted Hangman earlier, was introduced as Rocco.

"He's the head alpha," Bob R added, popping the de-shelled peanut the WSO offered him into his mouth.

Bob didn't mean to laugh. It just bubbled out of him, fast and sharp enough that he covered his mouth and glanced around to make sure he hadn't disturbed any other patrons. The Other Bob didn't question him, just watched patiently with a raised eyebrow and an amused quirk of the mouth. It hit Bob that the other man knew that he didn't have to ask, that Bob would explain himself. Phoenix had given him the same look innumerable times in the past few years they'd been partners. That thought was quickly brushed under the proverbial rug. He wasn't quite ready to ponder the meaning of that revelation and how it made the tightness in his chest that had been there since this mysterious pack entered the bar loosen just a fraction.

"Hangman was right," Bob said, gesturing at the preening alpha still at the center of attention of the Dagger Squad.

A few of his teammates caught his eye, shooting curious looks at him, some of them even openly gesturing at Bob R then back to him in silent question.

He ignored them.

Bob Reynolds gave a nervous wave and a bashful grimace in an approximation of a friendly smile. When he turned in his chair a bit to subtly put his back to the group, Bob Floyd didn't blame him.

"I'm guessing 'Hangman' is that blond alpha who looks like he thinks he's a king holding court in front of his subjects?" the Other Bob asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Bob muttered, tossing an errant peanut shell in an empty Budweiser glass he'd designated for such a task. No need to get Penny on his ass for making another mess for her to clean. "He's more a court jester who thinks he's king. If we had a leader other than Mav, it wouldn't be him." Tilting his head, Bob gestured at lone omega in the squad who was sitting by the wall, too distracted by the temptation of the bar's piano to pay Hangman any mind. "More likely, it'd be Rooster. Or maybe Phoenix, but I don't think she'd be too pleased with me for saying so."

The Other Bob risked a look at the Dagger Squad, just long enough for him to register their faces, most of which were still eyeing the two Bobs at the bar with unabashed curiosity. Bob Floyd turned and looked himself, briefly catching Phoenix's eye and blatantly ignoring her raised eyebrows.

"Do they always stare like that?" Bob Reynolds asked with a wince, his voice slightly higher and creaking from embarrassment.

Catching Payback's eye, Bob Floyd's unamused stare was met with an impish grin and a wink. When Fanboy wolf whistled, Bob turned back to the Other Bob with an audible sigh, fighting down the urge to roll his eyes.

"Unfortunately," he deadpanned, taking another sip of his Sprite, for once wishing it was something a little stronger.

After a few moments of the kind of awkward silence that only comes when two people know their every move is being heavily scrutinized, Bob R spoke up.

"Are they always this…" He glanced around the room, blinking rapidly like he was searching for his next words which had suddenly taken flight from his brain. Bob returned the same polite patience the omega had given him just minutes before, letting him figure out what he wanted to say and not interrupting or pressing him.

When he found the word, the Other Bob wrinkled his nose as if dissatisfied with the results of his searching.

"This…nosy?"

"Absolutely," Bob said with zero hesitation. That awkward expression bled from Bob R's face, replaced by the kind of genuine amusement Bob F wasn't used to receiving from something he'd said. Hangman had once declared he had no sense of humor, but it wasn't Bob's fault he didn't like being unnecessarily mean for the sake of a joke. But if everyone responded to jokes as beautifully as Bob Reynolds, maybe he'd need to start making more.

"Makes sense why you guys were nicknaming some of us. Have you been watching us all night?" There was a twinkle in the omega's eyes that made Bob's stomach flip in the same kind of way as when Becky Wilson in 5th grade held his hand for three precious minutes during recess. The same one as when Melinda Davis kissed him after junior prom.

Bob Floyd was many things but a stuttering fool wasn't one of them. Usually. So he cleared his throat, composing himself before he answered.

"A little bit," he admitted. Even if his voice was steady, the tips of his ears burned hotter than an overheating F/A-18 engine.

The impish grin that spread across Bob Reynolds' face should've been classified as a military-grade weapon suitable only for use in active combat. Definitely not something to be used in the middle of a bar against an unarmed combatant. Bob Floyd's stomach wasn't the only thing flipping; his damn heart felt like it was doing jumping jacks in his chest.

"Explains the nicknames," the Other Bob said with just a hint of a drawl. There was a mischievous light in his eyes, almost like he knew what he was doing to the flustered beta across from him. "You guys debating on who's the cutest? Because I can make a good case for myself."

"Not exactly," Bob said wryly. He took another sip of his drink to whet his suddenly-dry mouth, hands still fiddling with the same peanut he'd been rolling back and forth for the past few minutes.

The Other Bob waited, eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile growing more dangerous by the second. Bob Floyd thought he caught the other man sneaking a glance at his ears which were bright red by now judging by how they burned with the kind of heat usually only registered on the surface of the sun. But, when he glanced up at Bob Reynolds' eyes to catch him looking, the omega was merely watching him back.

"We were…" he started, cutting himself off before continuing. "They were making bets. About your pack."

Bob R's eyebrows shot up even further, making his forehead crease in a way that the WSO struggled to not label as 'adorable.'

"Nothing weird," Bob F added quickly. "Things like who was going to win that game of pool. Or who'd finish their drink first."

The Other Bob nodded, but Bob Floyd couldn't help but notice a twinge of some expression he couldn't quite place cross his handsome face. Relief?Disappointment? Hard to tell.

"Not exactly the most exciting bets. I think my idea is way better."

Bob F nodded absently, finally popping that peanut in his mouth and slowly chewing.

"Hangman and Fanboy were betting on who the pack alpha is," he finally added, flicking the crushed peanut shell into his cup to join its conquered brethren.

That seemed to interest the Other Bob, who perked up, sitting taller in his chair.

"Oh, that's what you meant by 'Hangman was right.' Everything's making sense now." He tapped his forehead, just like the meme, causing Bob F to let out a snort of laughter he couldn't quite hold back. Bob R beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the sides with laughter.

Since the squad were still closely monitoring the duo at the bar, Bob pulled up a picture on his phone to introduce his teammates in turn. Words flowed out of him, but in all honesty, Bob wasn't quite sure what all he said. He was hyper focused on how the Other Bob pulled his chair closer to better see the phone screen.

Stillness, it seems, was not a natural state of being for Bob Reynolds. He shifted in his seat, shaking his leg and rocking back and forth in an almost imperceptible way that Bob Floyd hadn't noticed until they were practically pressed against each other. Their legs bumped a few times and the Other Bob's hand brushed his own when he'd point at something in the picture that Bob himself had never noticed before. His heart practically pounded out of his chest any time they touched. If the omega knew what he was doing to him, Bob sure as hell couldn't tell. So he kept talking regardless.

The only thing he specifically remembered saying was mentioning Nat's civilian boyfriend she'd been with for the past year or so. Later, he wondered to himself why he'd brought that up, but all he knew was that Bob Reynolds had seemed tense when Phoenix was brought up and that his smiles and quiet touches came much more frequently after.

"You guys seem really close," the Other Bob said. Bob Floyd risked a glance over at his teammates and let out a relieved sigh seeing they'd moved on from staring to yet another game of darts where Payday and Coyote teamed up against Hangman. From the look of it, things weren't going well for them on that front.

"I mean, yeah. We're around each other what feels like every minute of the day. Can't even use the latrine without the entire unit knowing about it. 'Least, that's what it feels like."

The laugh the Other Bob let out wasn't faked; it was genuine but with something that rang hollow underneath. "I definitely understand that. Everyone knows everyone else's business in a pack, after all."

Now it was Bob's turn to smile ruefully. His eyes dipped to his own hands, watching as if from a distance as his index finger traced the bottom of the glass back and forth, swiping through cool beads of condensation and letting the water break, sliding down his skin and onto the bar counter.

Thoughts lingered on the tip of his tongue, ones he'd left unspoken to anyone but his closest family. They'd welled up before so many times along with a fierce sense of envy so strong Bob had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat - when Maverick finally settled down with Penny and Amelia, when his baby sister introduced the family to her new mates, when Coyote's pack came for a surprise visit on shore leave.

By the time he looked back up, the Other Bob was also following his movements. When he stopped, the omega blinked and looked back up at him, the upturned tilt of his lips distinctly bittersweet. There was an understanding there. A lack meeting another lack, like the holes in their hearts saw through the facades they held up and recognized each other.

So, for once, Bob didn't think through what he said. He just spoke.

"It must be nice to have a pack. A…family."

Several seconds passed before Bob Floyd found the nerve to lift his head up to see the other man's reaction. Would that change how the omega saw him? Would such rank honesty earn him discomfort or even the kind of pity he felt lurking in the eyes of even his closest friends? But, no. The Other Bob didn't give him a sad smile and a pat on the back. He didn't squirm away from the WSO either.

If anything, Bob Reynolds looked confused.

"What?" Bob Floyd found himself asking, the words leaving his lips involuntarily, not caught or even delayed by the ever-present filter he normally pushed all his thoughts through.

"But you have a family."

Before Bob could protest, to say that he meant a non-blood family, a group of people that chose each other willingly, a round of raucous laughter erupted from the direction of the dart board. The Hard Deck might have been emptier than normal, but this was the kind of hooting and hollering that would've drawn the attention of the entire place even during peak times.

Both Bobs immediately turned in their seats to watch as Coyote and Payday knelt on the floor to do push ups as Hangman strutted around like…well, a rooster while the others jeered at the losing duo and cheered them on in turn. From the expressions of chagrin and dread on Javy and Reuben's faces, Bob knew without a doubt they'd be going at it for quite a while.

The breathy laughter to his right drew Bob's attention back to the omega next to him. Bob Reynolds let out a little snort, covering his mouth and practically giggling as if his own noise only tickled him further.

"They do this often?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Bob answered, chuckling to himself as Jake put his boot on Javy's upper back, posing like Captain Morgan on the other pilot. He caught Bob's eye, holding a precise, showy salute and grinning at the WSO. At least until Javy shifted his shoulder forward, purposefully causing the cocky alpha to stumble to catch himself, which only made the Dagger Squad howl with laughter.

"Honestly, it's their fault for betting against Hangman at darts. I swear he leaves his bunk in the middle of the night to practice in the rec hall."

Turning back to the bar, Bob R fixed him with a look that Bob F could only describe as fond.

"There's always at least one troublemaker in a pack," the Other Bob said with a wistful smile. His words were so casual, taking a sip of his soda after like there was no weight to them at all. But they hit Bob Floyd all the same.

As if he was on autopilot, Bob pushed the button to turn his phone screen on, looking at the same picture that had greeted him for years. He could still smell the briny ocean spray lapping against the shore and feel that familiar California sun beaming down on the back of his neck, making his skin prickle in the way that let him know it was time to reapply sunscreen. Some 80s rock he vaguely recognized played in the background, but Bob could barely hear it over the grunts and yells and laughter as his squad loped around the beachfront. After a while, teams and scores and even winners were forgotten, replaced with the pure joy of tackles and touchdowns. Even Bob himself, initially turned off by the excess testosterone and macho posturing, got into it, scoring a goal where everyone cheered like it was a winning one. For once, he'd enjoyed being the center of attention, foisted up into the air by his comrades who chanted his name as he threw his head back, laughing.

Penny'd insisted on taking a photo. She'd said they needed a token, something to remember in the coming days and weeks of training for that mission none of them should've come back from but, by no small miracle, all of them did. The whole squad kept it as their lock screen for all this time. Girlfriends, boyfriends, and packmates got the honor of being their wallpaper, kept safe and secure behind a password. But the Dagger Squad were the first thing they all saw when they grabbed their phones in the morning and the last thing they saw as they went to bed at night.

As the screen went black, Bob Floyd was greeted with his own face. Only a couple of hours ago, he'd seen it in the mirror of the men's room as he looked up from washing his hands. Then he was met with a frown, one he quickly schooled into a neutral expression. It was just another night out, one he tagged along to because he had nothing better to do when Phoenix asked him his plans for the evening. That Bob in the mirror had lines on his forehead and a weariness in his eyes.

This Bob, the one reflected by his phone screen, couldn't be more different. Gone was the grimace, replaced with upturned lips, like the remnants of a smile tugged at his mouth. The lines on his face were still there, of course, but not as deep as they'd been before. And his eyes? Now those were the most different.

Bob Floyd wasn't unhappy. The exact opposite, actually. He was doing the job he loved with a team who both relied on him and cared about him, even if they didn't always notice when he left the table. But there was an emptiness inside of him. A loneliness he was loathe to name. But this Bob looked…lighter. Happier. Somehow more fulfilled. Like a conversation with a handsome stranger had buoyed his spirits in a way he didn't realize he needed until he saw the results himself.

For some reason, he felt the urge to turn and look at this unusual pack. Most of them paid him no mind, not the cowboy and his fancy alpha. Not the mild-mannered beta and his doting omega. And not the female alpha or the showy beta, who were too busy flirting to pay attention. But the greaser - Rocco, he corrected himself - caught his gaze and held it there.

Bob couldn't fight the feeling that this was an important moment, that his new friend's mate was passing judgment on him. Normally, he wouldn't care what some knothead alpha thought of him. His parents had told him long ago that gender is irrelevant to what kind of person you are. You can't blame your mistakes on it or let it encapsulate who you are. But something about that moment made Bob want to be a 'good beta' for the first time in his life. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

When the alpha raised his glass in a salute, a smirk firmly carved into his lips, Bob Floyd let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He lifted his Sprite in turn, toasting this complete stranger for something he didn't quite understand. Maybe he would later.

The Other Bob's voice jerked him firmly back into reality.

Turning to face the omega, Bob mumbled an apology. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'so, what's yours?'" Bob R stated, his head tilting to the side slightly, just enough that he had to gaze up through his lashes to make eye contact.

"Mine?" Bob F asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "My what?"

"Your callsign," the Other Bob clarified. "Sorry. I know I'm rewinding the conversation back a few minutes. Before we got distracted by the ruckus."

"Ruckus is a damn good way to put it," Bob said. He glanced back at the head alpha across the room, but Rocco had turned his attention away from the two at the bar.

"So, there's Payback. And Rooster. And Phoenix. What are you? Specs?" Bob R grinned as he said it, visibly proud of himself for coming up with a nickname.

"Uh…not exactly."

Bob Floyd had answered this question many, many times. People responded usually with confusion ('No, your callsign, not your name'), more questions ('Did you…choose that yourself?'), or, even worse, disappointment ('Aww, man. I was hoping it was something cool'). But this response? It was a new one.

"Hmm," Bob Reynolds said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while looking off into the distance. The gesture made his already-thin lips smush together into a solitary line, making it look like he had a comically long frown. The word 'adorable' floated through Bob Floyd's head for the second time that night.

After a few moments of hard pondering, the Other Bob turned to him, releasing his chin as he declared, "I like it."

Bob blinked, saying nothing at first. And when he did speak, it was just one word.

"…What?"

"I like it," the Other Bob said with even more conviction, nodding his head as if agreeing with his own assessment. "It suits you."

Bob Floyd couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was sudden and jarring, like his body had a mind of its own. Like it was pulled out of his lungs by sheer surprise.

Bob Reynolds eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Normally people are disappointed that my callsign is just…Bob. They expect something cooler."

The other man audibly scoffed. "What? Like Hangman? Wow. He must be so cool." He made a quick pumping gesture with his right hand, wordlessly calling the blond alpha a jerk off. "No, Bob is unique. I bet there isn't another pilot with that callsign. There are probably dozens of 'Hangman's. And, after all, you know what 'Bob' stands for, right?"

"If you say 'Baby On Board,' I'm going back to my -" Bob F started, shaking his finger at his fellow Bob.

"No, no," Bob R said, waving away the other man's concerns. "Nothing as lame as that."

"Then what?"

Bob Reynolds grinned.

"Big Ol' Balls, obviously."

When Bob Reynolds said his goodbyes and made his way back to his pack through the slowly emptying bar, he was hyper aware of the phone resting heavily in his right front pocket. He ran his fingers over the glass faceplate, feeling the tiny cracks in the touch screen, the ones Jordan insisted wouldn't be there if he'd just get a proper phone case. If he traced the name of the man he'd spent the last hour and a half with, give or take a few minutes, no one would know. Or even blame him.

The rest of his pack was suspiciously silent as he slid into the oval booth at the far end of the room, the one right next to the door. Everyone had made their way over to the table eventually, nearly filling it up. It wasn't an easy fit like it had been with just his bonded mates where he could stretch out over the worn brown vinyl, resting his head in one of their laps. But the way Miles chirruped happily, wrapping his arms around Bob and pulling him close, rubbing their noses together, more than made up for the lack of space.

"You tryin'a get us another beta?" Rhett asked with a grin. He'd long ago taken off the cowboy hat. Now the Stetson decorated the table in front of them, set amidst a veritable field of discarded and half-empty glasses.

At those words, Jordan perked up.

"We could use another beta. William helped get our numbers up, but you damn alphas outnumber us," he said, shooting fake glares at the three at the table who just chuckled in response.

"There are three omegas too," William added, pointing at Rhett, Miles, and Bob himself in turn.

Jordan dismissed him with a simple "psht" sound.

"There is never such a thing as too many omegas," he said as justification. Todd, who never missed an opportunity to cuddle with the nearest omega, nodded his head as if agreeing with some deep, sage wisdom. Rhett nudged him with his elbow, snickering when the alpha pouted at him, exaggeratedly rubbing his side as if dearly wounded.

"Can't disagree with you there," Rocco said, taking a swig of his beer before turning his eyes on Bob. Without even saying another word, Bob could feel his own face growing red. Rocco didn't even have to ask. From the smirk that tugged at his lips, he knew what Bob was thinking possibly even better than Bob knew himself.

As much as they so obviously wanted to, a stern look from Rocco quieted any more questions about the handsome stranger Bob had spent so much time chatting up. Everyone seemed mostly tired (or buzzed), so further talk was minimal, mostly just murmuring to the person next to them.

When William caught himself nearly falling asleep at the table, they collectively decided to call it a night. Miles and Jordan busied themselves organizing the glassware on the table, clean spills and stacking plates to make the night a little easier for the barkeep, while Todd made his way to the register to square up their tab.

It didn't take long before everyone filed out of the bar. Bob tried to catch a glimpse of his military counterpart, but, between his own packmates and the people settling up at the bar, there were too many people in the way. He could have sworn he saw that perfectly coifed hair swiveling to face them as they left, but he couldn't be certain.

The parking lot was mostly silent except for the buzzing of the neon lights in the Top Deck's windows, so any noise the pack made was amplified. From the words they exchanged to the keys jingling in the drivers' hands and especially to the gravel crunching under foot, Bob almost didn't hear Rocco when he started talking.

"Was he nice?"

"Hmm?" Bob answered, blinking and looking up at his mate. Rocco smiled down at him, one of those smiles that made him look devilishly handsome. That smile used to haunt his dreams before Bob had finally admitted his attraction to the alpha, but now it brightened his days and warmed his nights.

"Was he nice? The guy you chatted with."

"Oh? Yeah. Yeah, he was really sweet," Bob said, pushing his hands even deeper into his pockets as the cool night air nipped at his skin. Once again, he ran his fingers over the phone as if expecting it to buzz or ring at any moment. Or maybe he hoped it would.

"Sweet, huh?" Rocco said teasingly. He knocked his shoulder lightly against Bob's, who retaliated by leaning against him. From the way Rocco immediately put his arm around the omega, Bob didn't think he was complaining much.

His next words were quieter, spoken practically into Bob's ear.

"You feelin' better?"

Bob didn't mean to stop in his tracks, but Rocco jerked to a halt next to him, practically getting whiplash from the sudden pause in their walk. He wanted to deny it, of course. To tell Rocco that he had no clue what the alpha was talking about. But, looking up into the eyes of his mate, he knew that lying was useless. Rocco knew he'd been in a rotten mood all day, as much as Bob had tried to hide it.

He wasn't even sure why he'd been having a bad day to begin with. It could have been a million things. Or it could have been nothing. After all, it's like his therapist always said - depression doesn't always need a reason.

Hell, he wasn't even sure why he'd approached Bob Floyd to begin with. I mean, yeah, the guy had his hoodie, the same one Bob R had pulled on as soon as the crisp night air hit his bare arms. If Bob put his nose to it, he imagined he could still smell the beta's scent - clean and woodsy with just a hint of something sharp, like the one that lingered on his clothes the one time Todd had managed to convince him to fly on a plane despite his fear of heights. It was like gasoline or kerosene but not quite. The combination was odd, but Bob found that he quite liked it.

Their connection should have ended there. They'd touch hands as the WSO handed his hoodie back, Bob would think about it all night, and he'd look for the cute beta with big, blue eyes and aviator glasses every time they went to the Hard Deck from then on.

But talking to him just felt so…nice. He was nice. Bob Floyd was the kind of man who made every person he interacted with feel seen. He waited his turn to speak, and when he did, he made it clear he was listening, carefully logging little tidbits into some nebulous folder in his mind to reference later. And his life was so different from anything Bob Reynolds had ever experienced, full of dangerous missions, cocky pilots, and apparently some beach football. It didn't hurt that the WSO's eyes kept slipping to Bob's lips, his ears turning scarlet when Bob flirted back with him.

Somewhere in their conversation, the ache in Bob Reynolds' chest eased, leaving him feeling lighter than he'd been in days. And the new contact in his phone just meant this wasn't just a random chat between strangers. Maybe it was the start of something more.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Rocco's words brought him back to reality, back to the cold parking lot where his mate was waiting for an answer. None of the pack's vehicles had moved either. They waited for their alpha to lead the way. Or, more likely, they stayed to make sure nothing was wrong with Bob.

That thought felt like ice water over his head. Abruptly, Bob started walking towards Rocco's car, grabbing the alpha's hand to drag him along. Letting out a grunt of surprise, his mate followed wordlessly.

When they got to the car, Bob turned around to squarely face the other man.

"I'm okay, Rock," he said, meaning those words for the first time in the past week that he'd spoken them. "I'm okay."

Rocco fixed him with a stare, one Bob could never seem to hide from. It was like his alpha could see right through him, reading all the truths etched on his soul that he tried so desperately to keep to himself, not wanting to bother his packmates. After a few tense seconds, Rocco breathed out a little sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

"Okay," Rocco said. There was no pushing, no trying to get more information out of the omega. And Bob knew he wouldn't. His alpha trusted that he would open up in his own time.

The ride home was full of the regular noises: the hum of the engine, bits of scattered conversation, and a little off key singing.

When they pulled into their driveway and rolled to a stop inside the garage, Bob didn't even reach for the handle. He knew better by now. Long ago, Rocco had made it a habit to always open the door for his passengers. It was so ingrained into Bob that it took him a few seconds to realize that the alpha didn't move to exit the car.

"I do have one question," Rocco admitted almost sheepishly. He looked almost embarrassed to ask but bursting at the seams with curiousity, like he'd been chewing on his words the entire time they'd driven home."You know I won't press the issue. I don't need to know a damn thing about him until you're ready to talk. But it's kinda killing me. Can I…" His words trailed off, looking to Bob for permission.

When Bob nodded his assent, the alpha asked simply, "What's his name?"

Now that was a question Bob was more than happy to answer. Bob grinned up at his partner, smiling even wider when confusion and even a little bit of dread crossed his beloved's face. It was like he'd told the WSO; there was always one troublemaker in a pack, a fact Bob knew well from personal experience.

So, of course Rocco didn't believe him.

"You're fucking with me," he'd insisted. "There's no way that we went to a bar full of people, and you came out with a crush on the only other Bob in there. What's his name really? James? Tom? Lewis?"

It took pulling out his phone to show Rocco the new contact he'd entered in there just an hour ago, the one with the photo he'd startled the lieutenant when he snapped it so that the WSO more resembled a deer in the headlights than a decorated military officer.

When Rocco groaned in defeat, muttering "goddamnit, Bob" under his breath, Bob Reynolds laughed harder than he'd done in months.

Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics

Images in header are not mine.

Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

Chapter 4

“You’re a selkie?”

Sheer, utter relief animated Harrison’s entire being. Within an instant, the soft, human mask dropped. His shoulders relaxed, curving out his back, down to his feet that wagged briskly back and forth while his cheeks dimpled as they plumped out with a contented, seal-like purr. Even his eyes glittered with sea sparkle, a bright luminescent blue that broke through the glassy haze that had overtaken him. It was almost a caricature - he was more Harrison Knott, the one Cameron pictured whenever he closed his eyes, than he ever was.

And somehow, he made sense. He was real.

Gentle fingers threaded through Cameron’s white-knuckled grip, holding him steady against the debris where he sat. With a soft sigh followed by a less soft, almost manic giggle, Tova let out the tension that had been building in both of them. It was contagious. Cameron hissed between sharp laughs, voice rising with Tova as she let go and got up to test out her leg without a drop of hesitation. “No joke? You’re not shitting us?” 

Harrison nodded slowly, encouraging him along. “You know what we are”, he said. Not surprised, just giving space for the realisation to sink into Cameron’s features. 

“‘Course I do, but- Harrison, man. This is insane,” Cam muttered to himself, and then once again when Tova stood up and hopped on her perfectly healed leg.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Insane. Legends were insane. Fairytales were insane. The word barely covered the man who knelt before him. The one who could never recognise a person if they shaved or changed hats, and yet talked to individual fish like old friends.

Despite the fantastical absurdity of it all, a kind of cold, rational sobriety came over Cameron. For his whole life, Cameron Cassmore had wanted something- anything, to happen to him. Confident that when it did, he would be ready to meet it head-on. And yet on those rare occasions when he tried to manifest that something for himself, his efforts had only ever garnered another suspicious gap in his CV or a half-baked song abandoned on his hard drive. Not that he could ever honestly say he had given anything his all. It made failure that much easier to accept if he hadn’t.

And so nothing happened for years- until now. An honest-to-God, true-to-life selkie. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to schmucks like him; however, sitting on the edge of the first town in his adult life where he could place its inhabitants by name, just as easily as he could the cheapest bar or record shop, Cameron knew something had finally, truly happened. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready after all. 

He shifted uneasily on his perch.

“I know. I know,” reassured Harrison. “That’s why I wanted to show you this place, so you could see it for yourself.”

“I would have believed you if you told me, man.” 

“Would you?” His laugh was as deep a burr as a seal’s bark.

Cameron paused for a moment. “Uh, yeah, no. Absolutely not,” he admitted, wringing‌ his wrists even as he returned the laugh. He felt dizzy. “But in my defence, I don’t think some Scottish shapeshifting mermaid is most people’s first guess.”

“Scandinavian. Dad would kill you if he heard you say Scottish.”

Cameron kicked him with a grin. “You can go five minutes without correcting me, ya know? I don’t remember my mom ever saying you were all pedants, too.”

At that, almost imperceptibly, Tova’s lips twitched as the rest of her body braced in anticipation. Normally, Cameron would divert, hammer the point home, forcing them to feel as uncomfortable as he felt at the mere utterance of his mother. But at some point along the way, the anger had simply lost its power over him. For the first time, he wanted to share it with someone else.  

Harrison seized the opportunity. “What… What did she tell you about us?” In truth, he’d never planned on ‌how to tell them. To do so would be to mistake that absolutely insane, foolhardy idea for a good one.

“Uh, only the usual stuff. They were just some bedtime stories when I was a kid”. Cam stopped to clear his throat. He felt like he was in fourth grade again, being forced to explain basic arithmetic to his teacher, who had a PhD in Maths. But Harrison smiled encouragingly, delighting in every word. If there was one thing he had learnt, it was how to keep humans talking; he just had to stay quiet and nod. 

“My father used to tell my brother and me about how you brought good luck to sailors on their way home,” Tova jumped in, taking her seat again by her grandson. “Seems silly now, but when we were coming to America, we were so afraid of the ship hitting an iceberg that we tried to stowaway in a lifeboat before we even set sail. God, he was so embarrassed when the captain frog-marched us back to our room! But after that, whenever he tucked us into bed, he told us stories about how selkies always knew where you belonged. That way, even if we sank and got separated, they’d make sure we got to our new home…” Rolling her eyes fondly at her old man, she laughed, “I always presumed he just made that one up to make us feel better and to stop us from crawling into his bed.”

Tova hadn’t thought about that journey in years. After Erik died, any moment that led to that fateful day became tainted, a black hole of ‘what ifs’ she could easily fall into for years at a time. It made only a few innocuous periods of her life safe to dwell in while she did the dishes or drove to work. Any longer and her grief would start to mould new meaning from it, requiring it to be quarantined off lest it infect other precious memories. Now, she thought of her father choosing the spot to build their home, of passing down the stories of selkies to Erik and her husband lovingly watching him play with her father’s model seals. For all the sadness those snapshots contained, they slowly formed new connections. The timeline that led her here.  

While Tova’s lips crookedly grew into an unassuming smile, Cameron bit at his. Speaking as though to himself, he held his gaze on the space boot that lay abandoned on the floor. “Mom never mentioned that one. Not long before she left, she said they never interfered and that you can only ever rely on yourself. Not some fairytales.”  

She had said it in even harsher terms, but just that admission alone made Tova’s heart ache. It had never occurred to her what comfort those stories had given her as a child until she felt it anew. Maybe if Erik had lived, Cameron would have learned that tale too, finding comfort in it rather than closing in on himself. But then again, she had an inkling of the reason behind his sudden change - she didn’t suppose a few stories really were enough,

Harrison assumed he was angry with him for trying to run away. Cameron’s mom had him dead to rights, but to know how close he had come to letting them down… It didn’t bear thinking about.

“It’s a good job octopus’s like to interfere then,” Harrison said. “Marcellus was always very fond of his cleaning staff.” 

“He told you that?” Tova asked gingerly. 

He nodded, “Of course! Not that you needed to speak to him to figure that out.” 

No, she thought. She didn’t, did she? 

“And you got him back to where he belonged, just like father said you would.” Leaning forward, Tova gave him that telltale pat again, just as she used to when he was a seal. Without thinking, he hummed into it. “And us. I think you’re rather an exceptional, spunky selkie, Harrison. Even if you are wonderfully interfering.”

Normally, Harrison wore that title like a badge of honour, but now he pulled away slowly. “I don't feel like one,” he admitted. “I can’t find my own way home, let alone help anyone else. The ring was all Marcellus’s idea, not mine… I… I was halfway out the door when he went to get it.”

A choked-off noise escaped Cameron. They both turned to him. If he realised he had made a sound, he certainly did nothing to show it. Yet his mouth carried on without him. A back-and-forth played out across his features as his lips moved in silent dialogue with his face, which responded in only the subtlest of twitches and tics. His eyes widened and then blinked as though he were erasing a thought from an Etch-A-Sketch. 

Usually, Cameron spoke and let his brain deal with the consequences later. Seeing him wrestle to keep quiet made Harrison’s heart thunder against his chest, but he had trusted him this far. When finally his face reached a stalemate, Cam murmured hesitantly, “W-Where were you going to go?” 

“Away. That’s about as much of a plan as I had. You probably already guessed, but I lost my sealskin a few months back,” Harrison surprised himself with how steadily he spoke. He sat back, straight into a puddle that soaked his jeans. Not that he cared. Resting his arms on his knees, he tried to trick his body into being as casual as possible, just as he had learned to do for the necessary ‘idle chatter’ portion of his job. “It was just before you came into town. I came to drop off some shells at the aquarium on the full moon, and when I returned, my skin was just… gone. I didn’t think it was close enough to the shore to get carried off, but I’ve looked everywhere for it. The only option I’ve got left is to travel the coast and see if it’s‌ washed up somewhere.”

“And if you don’t find it?” Cameron asked delicately, suddenly laser-focused on any reaction. “Would it suck that much to stay as a human?”

“Then…” A lump caught in Harrison’s throat, as firm and as sharp as a fishing hook. “It’s like… You know when you’re running on a treadmill? It feels like I’m at my limit, but my body keeps going just so it can stay still. Like… It’s like a shark that’s stuck in a net but has to keep moving forward to breathe.” Harrison’s voice gained traction, spilling out of him now that they knew his secret. He didn’t have the words to explain the depth of his longing; he didn’t know Cameron’s beloved Shakespeare or Ethan’s obscure bands, so instead he simply went with every word he could think of. 

“O-Or when you’re stuck at work!” he exclaimed. Giddy at putting it in human terms; maybe he really had learned a thing or two. “And you want nothing more than to get home to a dingy old camper, but you have no idea when your shift will end, or if it ever will.” 

Suddenly, his shoulders sank, and a melancholic, dreamy smile broke through. “Then other times it’s when everyone is coming around for dinner, and Ms Sullivan has her incredible fish pie in the oven. Everyone is in the kitchen together, and there’s life! So much of your amazing life filling up the house. But the door’s closed, and you’re on the other side of it all, starving. You feel you could wait forever for it, but that doesn't change the fact that you’re all alone, wasting away to nothing.”

He huffed a small, sad laugh through his nose before turning to look out across the great expanse of the water. “The ocean keeps calling to me, but I can’t go back without my skin. I can’t remember what it's like not to miss it, but every day that I stay here, I forget what it ever felt like to be…Well, me.”

“But if it’s like that, then why did you…” Cameron worried his bottom lip with his teeth, “With me?”

Harrison wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was like being asked why he breathed or got out of bed in the morning. If his body was at one with the water, then his heart had found its reflection, one it never knew it was missing until he shared in its home and stayed in its bed just to see it smile back at him. He wished more than anything that he could simply swim in the pools of his love’s eyes forever. 

“Because when I was with you, I could forget everything else…and only remember everything that was important. I felt like myself again, but nothing’s me anymore. Not really. I don’t know how to be a human without being a seal.” 

His nose wrinkled, the way it used to when he dived to keep the water out. The sensation felt foreign in this body, so he smoothed it out, but a brisk sniff pulled it tight again. He ploughed on, not understanding what had come over him. “A-And I don’t think I can be a seal again w-without you guys.”

Suddenly, Harrison was hyper-aware of how laboured his breathing had become. Air punched its way out with every exhale and scraped against his throat with every intake. He tried to force it under control, but his face went numb. Pinpricks assaulted his skin and then his eyes. Even his chin trembled along with his nose, leaving his mouth jittering out of control. 

His voice cracked wide open with a sob. “D-does any of that make sense?”

Harrison tried to choke out a helpless please, but the word wouldn’t come. Instead, his vision blurred, apologies bubbled out of him and- 

Cameron rushed to his side, ignoring the sharp crack as his knees met the floor, and buried Harrison in a bruising hug. The selkie curled around him instinctively, burrowing impossibly further into the cup of Cameron’s shoulder despite his attempts to push him away. At the slightest movement, Cam rocked with him, following along but refusing to let go until Harrison gave in and melted into his shirt. 

“That was a lot better than your earthquake analogy,” Cameron mused, shielding the selkie’s face with his arm. A low, hollow laugh skimmed across the waves of Harrison’s hair. “Should have known no human could come up with something like that.”

After all, wasn’t that why Cameron loved him?

Fuck.

Harrison had cried before, but it had never consumed him from within. Never wracked his bones and stole his voice as it did now. He couldn’t quite get his head around the point of it. As with their choice phrase, ‘fine then, but just one’, why wouldn’t humans express how they felt? 

Like when they cried because they found something so hilarious they refused to admit it, were happier than words could contain, or needed help but were too afraid to ask. His two companions had been the hardest to understand, doing neither despite how obviously they wanted to until today. Yet he was no better. When Harrison’s body cried for Marcellus, he assumed it was from happiness at seeing him return home. Now, exhausted and terrified, he couldn’t express how he felt either.

So he wept harder, and Cameron hugged him tighter. Perhaps that was the point of it after all.

When his sobs eventually subsided just enough to breathe again, Harrison hiccuped. “I’m-”

“Shut up,” Cam shushed. “It’s me who should be sorry. S’real hard to be angry with you, ya know that?”

If his smile had made Harrison look more like himself than ever before, then this was a Harrison he didn’t recognise at all, and yet… he knew it was the one he had run away from for months.

“Oh. Um, I figured I was making it rather easy. Want me to try harder?”

“Hell no. What I want is for you never to pull that shit again.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out clipped and harsh. With a sigh, he continued more gently, “But I get it… Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

Cameron waited patiently for Harrison to collect himself, holding Tova’s steady gaze over the selkie’s head. It didn’t take a mind reader to know what she was thinking. When Harrison extracted himself with a parting pat on his shoulder, Cameron helped to pull him up to his feet. His hand jolted back when he realised it had slipped into the small of Harrison’s back. Flustered, he raked his bangs back into place, hoping Harrison was none the wiser, but the selkie was too busy clinging onto his sleeve for dear life while he reacquainted himself with having legs.

“Come, let’s make trails before we all catch hypothermia,” Tova said with a clap of her hands, her ‘dear old lady’ routine suddenly in full effect. “It’s been a long day. We’ll figure out what to do when we’re back home with a nice cup of cocoa, and I’ll see if there’s some pickled herring left over from yesterday. What do you say?”

Harrison looked hesitant, but her beaming, grandmotherly grin could move mountains. “Sure… Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let me just grab some stuff.”

Before he could embarrass himself further, Harrison bolted into the cave as fast as his useless feet could carry him, furiously wiping away his tears so that he might return to his usual bright and energetic self that they deserved to see. Cameron remained completely still, as though if he did, Tova might lose him in the darkness and leave him to pretend for just a little while longer. However, Cameron was never a lucky man.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” She came close and clasped his biceps to her side as though they were about to go for an afternoon stroll. But when he looked down, he saw her face wiped clean of her facade, watching him like a hawk.

He played innocent. He couldn’t do this, not now. “You mean how my boyfriend is half a seal and can talk to fish? I’m thinking about what kind of car I’m gonna get with the Netflix dough when they make the film. New house, model on each arm-”

She didn’t bite. Her voice went down another octave. “Terry showed you, didn’t he?”

Of course he did. And of course, he had shown Tova too. Terry couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, not about the aquarium, and especially not with such a tantalising mystery to solve. Despite the little ‘uh-huhs’ that even Harrison knew meant to stop talking, Terry had taken the new hire on his very first day and brought him into his strictest confidence. And yet the sight had only lingered in Cameron’s mind for as long as it took Terry to open his locker, give his pre-rehearsed spiel about how incredible it was, and then lock the door again.

But he knew what he saw, even if deep down he wished he hadn’t. It was a sealskin.

A perfectly skinned, and for Terry’s money, impossibly so, sealskin. There was no residue of the flesh that lay underneath the pelt, no imperfections common in taxidermy. Until it was tested, Terry had assumed it was an expertly made replica, but the DNA results told a different story- or so Terry kept explaining while Cameron nodded along in his quest for a pay rise. 

Terry had told him, hadn’t he? The story of how he had found it? Something about going down to document the sea-lions' mating season near the coast and coming across something buried in some alcove or another. Not for the first time in his life, Cameron wished he had paid more attention, but the timeline checked out. So did the science, the appearance, and Cameron’s rotten, fucking luck. The answer to all of Harrison’s problems had been just a few feet and one office door away. All they had to do now was just say the word, and Harrison would be happy again, exactly like they promised. 

And then he would be gone.

Cameron nodded. Once. Sure. “We have to tell him.”

"Of course we do," Tova affirmed gravely. She opened her mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again.

In the distance, Harrison bundled all of his recordings of Cameron’s gigs up in his arms, losing one, and then another, as he tried to fit a crab plushie onto the pile some kids at the aquarium had gifted him. 

Cam felt numb. Those kids had washed his filthy camper to raise the money for it. See? It wouldn’t just be you who missed him- 

“He’ll be so relieved when we tell him.” 

Tova hummed a strained affirmative, her voice trembling just like her body against the biting ocean air. Without thinking, her grandson smoothed his jacket over her, holding it in place with his arm around her back. She ignored how his fingers dug into her, as though she might disappear too.

“It wouldn’t be right to hide it. We can’t do that to him,” he repeated, hollowing himself out of all emotion to bind himself to his word. 

“No, no, of course not...” came the reply. Tova watched as Harrison shoved his book on Hawaii under his arm, then his polaroids, and stopped to give a thumbs-up. “-But this is too much for one day, don’t you think? Maybe we could do it tomorrow, make an evening of it, and really celebrate. I could make him that casserole he likes! And we can get everyone together-”

“-I don’t think I can do it if we wait.”

Cameron regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Earlier, Tova had truly believed it when she told him he was better than running away, and somehow, he had proven her right. But running away was nothing compared to this. After a beat, he gathered the strength to look at her, expecting to see the disgust he surely deserved. He lasted barely a second. In its place, he met his own devastation mirrored in her watery, brown eyes. He couldn’t bear it; his head snapped away, his shoulders heaving with a hard sob. 

“I lost him for just a few hours, Tova.” His mouth tasted bitter. He tried to face her again, but he could barely lift his chin before it collapsed against his chest. “It was barely ‌one afternoon, and it felt like… I can’t even describe it.”

“Like being a shark stuck in a net?” She tried to joke.

He huffed a dry laugh.

No, it was so much worse, he thought.

Before Cameron could respond, Harrison bounded out of the cave with his rucksack that burst from the seams with all his favourite and most important possessions. Triumphant, he held a fork aloft, announcing he had found his dinglehopper that Avery had sarcastically gifted him for his birthday and started to comb his hair back into place as he rushed back - his tears vanished, wiped away onto his sleeve like nothing had ever happened.

He looked ridiculous.

When Avery had given it to him, Cameron had no idea why, but he played along. He used it to style his bangs into place and fluff up his cow lick before work, all to steal a laugh from Harrison and to trick him into brushing away the remaining lugs and come close enough to steal a kiss. 

For 32 years, the most mortifying thing Cameron Cassmore could ever be called‌, was embarrassing. But for Harrison, he wished he had done one better and become the most embarrassing person Sowell Bay had ever known. Tova had called it the most romantic thing she had ever heard, but he had brushed her off, thinking it was only the place to start.

“I can’t do this. I can’t-… This isn’t fair.” 

Cam cursed how petulant he sounded, but Tova squeezed him closer. “No, it isn’t. The best fairytales often aren’t. But sometimes we can be better than even the stories we tell about ourselves.”

As they walked over the craggy beach, the path back to civilization slowly rose up to greet them between the rocks and washed-up seaweed. The mystical, primordial land where earth met ocean disappeared behind them, swallowed by the night as if it had never existed. With nothing but Cameron’s torch and the far-off lights of town to guide them, its disappearance afforded them the time to rediscover their old camaraderie like nothing world-changing had just happened, but Cameron couldn’t fall back into their natural rhythm, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, avoidance shifted into the humans’ natural curiosity, softening any lingering incredulity into something begrudgingly practical.  

Could you not fly to Hawaii? Cameron asked. With what passport? Harrison countered. Couldn’t you just swim back home? Harrison howled at that one, although he had looked into purchasing a private boat, spending months working up the courage to click the CAPTCHA ‘are you a human?’ option, after which his hopes quickly sank as he was quoted more zeros than he had fingers.

Tova all but skipped over the driftwood, no longer needing them to prop her up as she did everything she could to hold up their spirits instead. With enough of her probing, Harrison told them everything from how Marcellus got their ring to what his favourite parts of being human were (finally being allowed into art galleries and navigating an obstacle higher than two feet) and the worst (people gave you much more free food as a seal). His weak smile only grew in strength as they stared at him in awe. It was so much better than the blank stares of fish and the bemused glares of strangers he often received, so he regaled them with stories of his life until their chatter overpowered the roar of the sea. To think after all these months, they finally knew him… How could he not tell them of his pod? The luscious Hawaiian beaches and the freshest fish a seal could ask for? But more than just wanting them to understand him, he wanted to share his family with them, especially if this was to be his last opportunity. If they thought he was amazing, just imagine if they met his parents, his sister, or the kind record store owner! So using every word he had learnt, and a few he made up, he painted a picture even grander than he had done with brush and paint.

But with each tale, the distant lights of town slowly grew brighter, welcoming them home and announcing their soon-to-be goodbye. A sense of dread filled Cameron’s chest, his heart racing as he slowed his steps to hold off the inevitable for as long as possible. When he first came into town, he could recognise Ethan’s house from a distance, the aquarium, and maybe the store if he squinted. Later, he learnt the harbour, Avery’s shop and a few choice bakeries when payday rolled by. But now? Now they were more than dots swamped by trees. Every building and road held a memory shared with Harrison, right down to the tarmac on Main Street that never got fixed and the bus that always drove past him as though he’d personally offended its ancestors. Things that would have infuriated him in the past now brought a wry smile to his face, and then something altogether more somber.

He’d never felt attached to a place before, like it was somehow a part of him, yet giving him far more than he could ever return. God, what a fucking sappy thought that was. Brad and Elizabeth would never let him hear the end of it if they could see him now, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was all Harrison’s fault. No one could find joy in the little things like he did and then infect others with it. Every evening, without fail, Harrison would come home with a wild new theory on where the latest tourist had come from, or how wonderful it was that the widower, Mr McCoy, was back tending to his garden. Not wanting to be outdone, Cameron ‌reluctantly joined in. Stepping on the ‘lucky’ pothole that Harrison always jumped in when no one was looking and pointing out, normally more cynically, the parts of the town that even the eagle-eyed Harrison had missed. But despite his best attempts to stay aloof, Harrison always won in the end. The asshole even had the audacity to look so goddamn proud of Cameron when he came home, up to his knees in soil, after fixing McCoy’s old planters. 

But without Harrison there… would he have ever noticed they needed fixing? Worse, would he even have cared? 

Cameron gritted his teeth as Harrison waffled on. It was Harrison’s fault when you thought about it. What the hell was he doing moving in with him, if he knew this was coming? Or for that matter, what was Ethan playing at, butting into his business and encouraging him to go on dates? Or Avery for taking them paddle boarding? This would all be so much easier if Tova, who was happily chatting away while leaving it up to him to tear his own heart out, would just do it for him. But no, it was always down to him. His mother was right; in the end, you could only ever rely on yourself.

But hell, perhaps if his mother had shelled out for a different storybook, it would never have occurred to Cameron that he could hide it in the first place. Of course, he knew the legends of how a human would steal their sealskin to force them to stay on land. It was the same story time and time again. He had shaken his head and tutted at the villain and vowed he could never do such a thing, just like everyone else. Except that is, for his mother, who had closed the book and, with‌ a deathly calm tone, muttered that she would have buried the skin so they would never leave. 

He always brought it up to show how selfish she was. But now? He got it. Cameron had seen firsthand what grief did to people. More and more, he realised just how insidiously it had stolen his mother from him as a child, and until today, had wrecked his grandmother’s life. He knew it was ridiculous of him to compare the two, but that didn’t stop the pounding in his ears as he turned to the others and imagined what it would be like if Harrison was just… gone. He wondered how it would sound if the wind died without his laughter to carry it, and how the sun would feel on his skin if stripped of Harrison’s warmth. Maybe it would turn out the town was a hollow facsimile after all, like a cheap theme park his mom would take him to instead of Disneyland, whose lifeless facade hid how empty the houses had always been- That’s it! He could write a song about it. Fuck knows where those thoughts came from, but desperate times called for being all vulnerable and deep, or whatever shit his exes complained he never was.

He’d show Tova romantic. He’d show Harrison, too. Then just watch him try to leave.  

Working as fast as possible, he tried to hammer them into lyrics that even Barry Mannilow or Michael Buble would call ‘a bit much’. Maybe he could convince him to come to the bar, and the perfect song would come flowing out of him after months of holding it back, all sickly sweet sentiment and couplets on how he’d take the long walk to work just to see the things Harrison had cherished. Yeah, that’s it. Afterwards, he could give him his skin and watch with a cheer as Harrison punted it straight into the garbage, never wanting to leave him again. 

Yeah, okay. This could work. Of course it would. He just had to include the run-down bowling alley they spent his birthday at, their camper where they wasted away hours making out, the shitty aquarium and its hopeless, pathetic cleaner he somehow loved anyway-

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Just… Shit.

He… He really couldn’t tell him where it was. 

Harrison had said there was only half of Harrison Knott without his sealskin, but without Harrison, Cameron wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

A voice, gentle and concerned, dragged him out of his thoughts with such a jolt that he almost gave his neck whiplash. “Cameron?”

“Hm?” His eyes widened like a deer trapped in the headlights.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s cool.” Harrison threw out his arms as best he could while carrying everything and gestured to himself. “See? I got out of it alright.”

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah. Gonna outlive the cockroaches with your luck.”

Tova shot Cameron a withering look that turned into something more worried when Cameron didn’t react. She must have known he wasn’t listening as she repeated without an ounce of subtlety, “So, Harrison, when the storm back in Hawaii washed you ashore, then what happened?”

“Oh! Simple. You guys!” he exclaimed. It barely registered in his haze, but Cameron was an expert on Harrison now. He could hear how tired and thin his voice was as he heroically powered through. “Well, humans. The tidal wave got me good against the rocks, but the next morning all these people in suits came and found me.” Guilt ran across his face as he jiggled his rucksack on his back. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I tried to bite a couple of them. I don’t know what I thought they were going to do that could be any worse than dying out there, but… My higher thinking, as you call it, ain't always the best as a seal.”

“Wait”, Cameron interrupted, speeding up so he could pirouette and stare at them both face to face as he walked backwards. “You almost died!?”

Tova rolled her eyes. She tried.

But Harrison was used to him zoning out. Fond amusement crinkled his barely-there crow's feet, even if his smile didn’t quite meet them. “Yeah. Between that, the car that nearly hit me and that power cable, I’ve had a lot of near-death experiences, hey?” Cameron pointedly tried not to remember it. “Thankfully, they took me to a sanctuary over there and then transferred me all the way to Sowell for rehab as a‌ part of their attempts to boost the local seal population. They had no way of knowing what I really was, but they took really good care of me, and I’m… As you said, I’m l-lucky. I have you guys after all.”

He certainly didn’t look like someone who felt lucky. He took a deep breath and forced a smile again, all teeth and wiry, tired muscle as their eyes met. It took a moment for Harrison’s mind to catch up with what he had just said, but Cameron caught the exact moment when Harrison dropped his gaze to his feet, and then out to the sea. 

Harrison walked slower than Cameron had done, a fact Cameron only realised as he and Tova fell further and further behind. His feet scraped the ground, barely lifting off the earth as they begrudgingly followed their orders to keep going. Cameron could only watch on helplessly as the selkie tried to find that smile again, steadfastly refusing to look at them again until he did.

Harrison was his boyfriend. Cam should say something profound that would make everything better, something… Just something. However, none of his sappy thoughts were coming to him. His emotions were fried, and his selfish heart was beating loudly in his chest, trying to inch its way up his throat to stop him from saying anything. He felt like a jailer bringing back a prisoner from leave to live out the rest of his life sentence. However, Sowell wasn’t a prison to him; Harrison had shown him day after day how much he adored it. Cameron just had to remind him, so instead, he peered out over Sowell and did as Harrison had taught him to do, and really looked.

“Hey, see that?” He pointed to a small collection of fairy lights on the hill. “Looks like it’s Amy’s birthday. She’s what, like, ten now?”

Harrison didn’t turn to look. He sounded completely disinterested as he hummed along in a monotone drawl. “Hm. Oh yeah, I guess so. That’s nice.”

Arm still outstretched, Cameron could feel it tremble. “She’ll be coming to the shop tomorrow, right? ‘Sure, she’d love to see you before you go. Maybe we can go past Lena’s house on the way back and see if Barnie is home from the vet’s?”

Cameron and Tova exchanged desperate looks as Harrison remained quiet; none of it held any interest for him now. She cottoned on to Cameron’s ploy instantly. The selkie loved that family; they came by the store every week and listened as he acted out Hawaiian legends while making their inevitably burnt coffee. It was such a dumb, small thing… But Harrison had never not cared before. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Cam looked between his two companions.

He didn’t wait for Tova’s reaction; he just tapped on his phone, letting muscle memory do the work as he kept his eyes on Harrison as much as he could. 

After a furious series of presses, he hesitated, his thumb hovering in mid-air. It was as though he’d been possessed and freed again just as quickly as he blinked away a mist.

He lowered his phone and tapped the corner rhythmically against his chest, using the steady beat to ground himself as his voice wavered, “Wanna go to the bar for open mic? I’ll grab my guitar and see if Greg got that cask that you like?” 

Saying it out loud, he heard how ridiculous his plan was. Cameron hated sounding like that kind of guy, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Harrison winced. “Only if you want to,” he sighed, as if it took every ounce of remaining energy just to move his mouth. “I… I think I just want to be with you guys. They’ll probably just laugh at me. I look like a wreck.”

Being laughed at had never bothered him before. He no longer had the strength to pretend. The selkie looked defeated. Lost, and worst of all, completely hopeless. He tried to put a brave face on it, but Cameron could tell he had lost all faith in finding his skin if the tide had taken it. He had promised him, hadn’t he?

What about the camper? Tova’s? Ethan’s?

He tried one last time. But said nothing.

Cameron had steadfastly spent his life forcing himself not to care about where his mother was or what she was doing. It had been the only way for him to function, if that’s what he could call it. But to lose the people who were in his life? If Aunt Jeanie wasn’t on the other end of the phone, or if his stoic, hard-ass supervisor wasn’t by his side? Cameron knew precisely how Harrison felt, thousands of miles away from home.

The sound died on the wind, warmth dissipated under the cold gaze of the moon, and Sowell Bay sat hovering over all of it, waiting for its prize prisoner to be returned to his gilded cage. Cameron saw the entire rest of their lives together. In all honesty, Cameron didn’t think he needed to say anything. Harrison wouldn’t leave. Not with Tova hugging his arm and him walking by his side once again. All he needed was one final push to stay.

Cameron looked down at his phone, his thumb resting over the picture on the lock screen, and he clicked send.

Chapter 5

No matter the circumstances, the Sowell Bay Aquarium was always a welcome sight. While the rest of the town was dead to the world, the harbour groaned into life as the three returned from their journey, with Tova expertly doing what she thought herself incapable of: filling the awkward silence with senseless chatter. The selkie merely grunted along, while Cameron, who was compulsively checking his phone, didn’t even manage that. 

Ready to get this ordeal over with, Harrison led the way to the parking lot, keeping his head down and letting the street markings guide him back. Once he got there, he heard the ‘beep’ of Tova’s door unlocking; however, the feet behind him stopped. Cameron's hand was on Tova's arm, halting her in her tracks. He shook his head.  

To Harrison’s surprise, Tova didn’t seem annoyed. Instead, she looked surprised, and then… relieved? Proud?

Whatever it was, Harrison was done with surprises for the day, and definitely done with mysteries. Mysteries needed solving, action - Whereas all he wanted to do was to lie down and rest. Exhausted, he barely recognised his own weary voice. “Guys, we gotta go.” 

Cameron didn’t even look to him as he mumbled, “Yeah, soon. We just gotta do one last thing,” he said simply. “P-promise.”

We promised.

“Cam, do we have to? W-what’s going on?” It was obvious that they were hiding something. Logically, he knew it was just his tiredness talking, but after catching their private glances all afternoon, he couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that they were already shutting him out. He tried to sound firm. “I told you. I have to leave. This is hard enough as it is. Can we please just go?”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, they did hear him, loud and clear. Cameron draped his hands over Harrison’s shoulders, rubbing soft circles into the hard knot of muscle. It scared him how easily Harrison seemed to relax against his touch. How simple it would be to lead him by the hand and whisk him back to their camper, where this could all be written off as a bad dream.

“I know, I know.” He hushed. “Just five minutes, that’s all it’ll take.”

Not seeing he had much of a choice, or if he just didn’t have the energy to argue, Harrison nodded.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay. Five minutes, that’s all I need. Promise.”

There was no backing out now. Cameron let go of him slowly, as if he might topple over any second. Tova immediately stepped in, looping her arm through their friend's and guiding him toward the aquarium. Or at least, that’s where Harrison assumed they were going. He put one foot in front of the other and mindlessly followed her while Cameron surged on ahead to wrestle with the front door, cursing under his breath as his hands refused to keep the key steady. 

Eventually, the door opened, and Cameron led them through the spotless halls of the aquarium, twisting his way past Marcellus’s empty tank where he’d written Harrison’s true name all those hours ago, and following the yellow path that normally led to the amphibians before taking a sharp turn to the employee-only door. 

Cam was so hurried that Harrison could only catch the back of his hoodie, keeping to a steady pace so he didn’t leave Tova behind. Or so he told himself as she pulled him along. He was uneasy; the overbearing lights gave him a headache. Harrison had grown used to not knowing what was going on, but even the fish seemed agitated. Normally, the aquarium was his haven. For just $89.99 a year, it let him exist in the present, watching his fellow sea creatures live out their lives without a care in the world. It was serene, grounding. But now he could only see himself behind the glass, doomed to go around in circles for the rest of his days. 

But he couldn’t think like that. Cameron’s hands were steadier now. The door opened with ease; however, as Harrison walked through, suddenly he was pulled back by the arm. At first, it was bruising. Then it softened, lingering on the feel of the cotton as though memorising it with the tips of his fingers, before falling away completely.

Whatever had happened went unspoken as Cameron trudged on ahead to the back wall, which was lined with a row of staff lockers.

Cam rubbed the back of his neck, giving his announcement all the pizzazz of an underpaid, under-liquored understudy. “Okay. Okay. Uh - yeah. This is it.” 

He motioned to the door in the middle, locked with a padlock. Nothing happened. “Um… Tova?”

“Yes?” She asked.

“What’s Terry’s combination?”

Her free hand met her hip in a flash. “How am I supposed to know? What kind of thief do you take me for?”

“I thought you were close!” he protested. 

“Wait, this is what you brought me in for?” Harrison was incredulous. It wasn’t often that the selkie was incredulous, but each word made his headache throb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cam waved his hand dismissively, still squarely fixed on Tova. “But come on, he told you everything. We can’t wait for Terry-”

Oh. Harrison knew that petulant, adorable whine anywhere. So that was it. After everything Harrison had done, they were giving him a going-away party? 

He couldn’t believe it. However, he had seen Cameron’s last attempt at one of these, and his ‘just five minutes’ felt painfully more optimistic by the second. Unsure if it was him or the room that was spinning, Harrison was dead on his feet. He felt awful for being so ungrateful, but being back in the aquarium was overwhelming enough; there was no way he could handle playing games. 

“Guys, thanks for trying. But I don’t think I can do another escape room right now. Can we save all that crying from last time for tomorrow, Cam?”

He didn’t mean anything by it, but Tova turned around with a purposeful, haunting ease that would have made Michael Myers quake in fear.

“You didn’t-”

“I didn’t cry!” he glowered. “It was the air conditioning. And no, of course this isn’t an escape room, it’s-”

Ugh. Okay, maybe he cried a little. But who could blame him when Harrison was there making paper planes out of the instructions? Failure was not an option; he had a perfect record on these things, and he wasn’t about to let Harrison rearranging half the room (and losing half the clues in the process) stop him. Besides, despite an unnecessarily angry email and the bill that definitely brought tears to his eyes, they had completed it… Kind of. Just before the clock ran out, with a show of superhuman strength, Harrison took the safe by the handle and wrenched it open, without a single digit of the code sussed out. The cheating shit didn’t even have the gall to be ashamed of himself as he gratefully shook the attendant's hand for ‘keeping his boyfriend entertained’ on his triumphant way out.

That’s it! Bingo. Harrison, you evil, idiotic genius.

“Tova, pass me that screwdriver.”

Knowing better than to ask where he’d learnt to jimmy a lock, his grandmother didn’t need to be asked twice. The screwdriver wedged into place, and he slammed his weight into it. It merely creaked. Not daring to meet Tova’s wilting gaze, he went to try again. And again. On the third attempt, his grandmother joined in, pulling on the door with a ferocity that would have made her Viking ancestors proud.

For as drained as Harrison was, seeing his loved ones move in sync, like a school of darting fish, brought a small smile to his face. Although that didn’t stop him from crossing his arms as he rested against the wall, muttering to himself. “So when I did it, it was cheating, but it’s okay when he does it?”

Harrison thought he heard his voice's half-hearted offer to help, but Cameron was adamant that he had to do this. Finally, on the count of three, they punched it into place. Once. Twice. And then something broke. 

The door jangled in place, but it was loose. They pulled it together with an almighty heave, sending them both flying back. It opened.

Harrison gave the duo a weary but genuine fist-pump in the air at their success; however, when he saw Cameron suddenly turn pale and Tova struggle to catch her breath, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to celebrate, so he ‘woo-hoo’ed quietly, just in case. If nothing else, Harrison had to admit this was better than their last escape room. Shorter, at least, and definitely more exciting than the riddles that Harrison figured out in seconds but kept to himself, to let Cameron continue to have his ‘fun’. 

“Is that it?” he asked, unable to hide how hopeful he was. “What did you win?” 

Cameron was quiet for a moment. Harrison assumed he was just recovering, but the response barely pierced the hum of the electrics. “Have a look.”

Pushing himself off the wall, Harrison stepped forward and froze.

He let out a gasp- a slight tremble seized Harrison by the shoulders, and picked up force as quickly as it covered ground. Unable to watch, Cameron glued his eyes to the floor, trying to block out everything around him; however, he couldn’t ignore the deathly silence that fell upon them all. That is, until he heard the selkie’s knees knocking together, softly thumping along to Cameron’s own racing heart as it finally broke. 

Bang.

That got Cameron’s attention.

The locker door groaned as Harrison caught himself against the frame, all the strength rushing out of his legs. He took a feeble, failed attempt to breathe, but all that came out was a broken, ragged whimper. He hesitated, and then, deferentially, he reached inside and picked it up.

Not even a great Shakespearean actor, about to pour his soul into a soliloquy over poor Yorick, would have held an object with such reverence. But Harrison didn’t need a monologue anymore; he only needed two words: “It’s me.”

Cradling the sealskin like a newborn babe, he basked in every detail. It had been so long that he barely recognised himself, but slowly he rediscovered the face he knew best of all, reflected in the clear, pure oceans of Hawaii. It was him, alright. Those enormous eyes, the feel of his soft fur, the salty smell of the sea, and not a single new mark was on it. Whatever had happened, it had been looked after, cared for, just as he had been. It looked like he had just been sleeping this whole time, nestled away in its own personal, metal cave, waiting for him to return.

Taking it into his chest, just above his heart, Harrison kissed its head again and again. Slowly, he descended into a squat, curled up over his skin, and started to cry. 

But Tova had been right; it was okay. He knew what he was crying for now.

Cameron couldn’t quite believe he had done it. He watched on, completely numb, while all he wanted to do was curl up into an even tighter ball than Harrison and wait for everyone to leave. He had been angry, depressed, and utterly defeated before, but never had he felt this empty as he willingly let the love of his life go. And yet, what choice was there? 

On the walk back to Sowell, he had seen his future- whether it was growing old in the same run-down camper, jobless and skint, or the idyllic, domestic dream sold to him by retail catalogues and his aunt’s Hallmark movies. It was likely the same fantasy old sailors imagined centuries ago when they kept their selkie brides trapped on land. Until Harrison, Cameron had never thought of himself as a romantic. But no matter how beautiful any dream life was, he could never picture Harrison smiling in it without his sealskin. 

If his grandmother could let go of Marcellus, he could do this for Harrison. It was a small, much-needed consolation, but at least he could look forward to her inevitable gloating that she was right all along; he really was a better person than he thought.

Eventually, Harrison clambered to his feet, holding his skin just as tight. The tears were still there, but they were already drying, replaced by that long-missing smile. Ear to ear, every tooth dazzling under the low light of the office. If that was the future Cameron lost, but Harrison gained? He could live with that.

“Cam… Tova… I don’t know what to say… Thank you-”

It was Tova who approached first. She lovingly looked down at her old friend and her new one and mused, “Ah, so that’s where my little companion went. You know, you were more house-trained back then.”

It snuck up on him, and before he knew it, Harrison found himself bubbling with laughter, “Still spunky though?”

“Oh, yes. That one never changed.”

Carefully, she hugged him to her, his skin safe between them, but before Cameron had to consider what to do next, the office door swung wide open.

It was Ethan and Avery, and boy, did Avery look distinctly unimpressed at being awake at this hour. Her sleep hoodie bundled over a second sweatshirt tied at her waist for warmth, she held onto her coffee like a lifeline. Ethan, on the other hand, was thrilled to see people embracing the joys of late-night partying. If his rosy cheeks and toothy grin were anything to go by, he had already made a start to the evening’s festivities… Whatever they were. 

“Ah. There you are, Laddy!” he cheered, a bottle of his finest whiskey held aloft like a knight returning home victorious from conquest. “We got your text. What are we celebrating?”

“Celebrating?” To Avery’s annoyance, her voice barely registered surprise. Still half asleep, her expression hardened into a look only the mother of a teenager could wield. “Cam, you said this was an emergency-”

Avery turned to everyone in the room, momentarily taken aback by just how frankly horrific they looked, and how stunned Harrison and Tova were that they were standing there at all. Infuriatingly, Cameron just shrugged with that lackadaisical smile that only close friends could use to worm their way out of a lie.

“It’s both. Kinda.” He looked to Harrison, who nodded his consent. He cleared his throat. “Can I have the great honour of introducing you to Sowell Bay’s very real and spunky resident selkie?” 

Harrison gave them a wave, and upon being greeted with the blankest of expressions, he held his seal-form’s flipper and waved it too with a bark. 

Neither of them moved a muscle, except to bring the whisky closer to Ethan’s lips. Tova walked over to them and led them to the corner of the room, both of them too stunned to do anything but follow. “I think an explanation wouldn’t go amiss”, she directed straight at Cameron. He didn’t get his tact from her side of the family, that’s for sure. 

While she briefed the two newcomers, Cameron took the opportunity to speak to Harrison in private. “I wanted you to see them before you had to go”, he explained. “They all came out for you, Harrison.”

“Y-yeah, they did.” His voice wavered, so he faked a cough until it evened out. “Although I think Avery may kill you if she doesn’t believe me.”

“She’ll be fine… I hope. Tova can be very… persuasive.”

Between points in her story, Avery and Ethan stole quick glances towards them. Ethan already knew the legends, and honestly, they made a great deal more sense than his previous theories about his favorite employee. As Avery felt a migraine coming on, she refrained from rolling her eyes. Yup. That grown-ass adult man was a seal, alright. She should be more concerned by how easily she believed him, but she’d seen Harrison choke on enough mackerels that he tried (and failed) to swallow whole that it all clicked into place. 

While they talked, Cameron petted the sealskin, carefully, as though in apology. How could something so innocuous cause all this? As he did, Harrison beamed at the care he showed it, a low purr humming in his chest. 

“Hey man, look,” said Cameron. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was yours. Or… or I wouldn’t have put you through-”

Shit, where did he begin? For not figuring it out earlier, or for even considering trapping him on land? But there wasn’t time for any of them when Ethan knocked the wind out of them, stealing Harrison from him and exclaiming, “My fellow Scot! Come here.” 

He didn’t have the heart to correct him. Instead, Harrison went along with Ethan’s hearty bear-hug and bounced on the spot like an excited bunny, with all the emotion of the last few gruelling months having nowhere to go but out of his toes, muttering the whole time “Thank you, thank you” into his boss’s Grateful Dead shirt. The whisky sloshed about, staining it once again, but he didn’t care, and Harrison was too overcome to notice.

Who needed to rely on fairytales and legends when he had these people right here? 

Once Ethan finally let him go, Harrison turned to his paddleboard buddy and somehow collected himself enough to remember his manners. “D-do you hug?”

A laugh burst out of her. “On this occasion. But just one- Ah!”

His whole face lit up. Just one? Oh, humans, he knew that game. He took her in his arms and spun her around, his clumsy feet moving without him. “Harrison!” Avery screamed, giggling through it. “God, dude, stop, you’re gonna make me puke. I said just one-” 

So he jumped higher. It hit him all at once: it was over. He was free. 

He knew it was wrong of him; however, as he watched Harrison celebrate with his friends, Cameron couldn’t help the hurt that gnawed away at him. His jaw flexed. Standing alone, he warred with himself to keep looking pleased for him. Happy. Even as Harrison didn’t seem to care back. The thought crept back into his mind, the cruel but constant voice he couldn’t silence: it wasn’t fair. Harrison wasn’t his to keep, and yet Harrison would always own a piece of him.

As Avery stumbled out of Harrison’s grasp, he turned to Cameron. Something in his expression gave Harrison pause, but before Cam could react, the selkie crushed him to his chest. Not knowing what else to do, Cameron untangled his arms just enough to pat him awkwardly on the shoulders as Harrison’s infectious joy became nothing short of unstoppable. It was its own kind of magic, one Harrison had performed countless times before, when his watery, exhausted giggle burst from his lungs and brought a genuine, if bittersweet smile back to Cameron’s face. What Harrison’s touch could do for Tova’s leg, his laughter did for Cameron’s broken heart. 

“I’m going home! I’m actually going home!” Harrison practically vibrated with every word. “Thank you! Oh God, thank you, guys! What would I do without you all?”

At that, the hopping slowly died down. From over Cameron’s shoulder, Tova’s eyes met Harrison’s, wet and, she thought, afraid. Cameron had been wrong; he was still crying. 

A gentle breeze caressed Harrison’s face, coaxing him toward the water, drawing to a close his time in the human world. Out on the far end of the pier, they returned to the spot where they had sat hours earlier, freeing Marcellus from his captivity and returning him home, just as he had paved the way for Tova and Cameron to find theirs… That is, with a little help from a certain, reluctantly interfering selkie. 

At the time, Marcellus’s last-ditch ploy of writing his name in the sand had felt like signing away his death warrant. Everything he had been taught about his place in the world rested on keeping order in the ocean and the humans away, but while he had tried (and failed) to hide his skin from them, Harrison Knott had never been one to hide his heart.

And now, thanks to Marcellus, he returned to this spot with his dearest friends by his side to see him miraculously back home. 

He had lived a hundred lifetimes in these last few hours, and several more since coming to Sowell Bay, and now, looking out into the great unknown he once knew so well, Harrison felt his heart soar. Yet, after thanking Ethan for giving him a job and introducing him to the wonders of whisky and the Grateful Dead, and reminiscing with Avery about long evenings scouring the beach for lost treasure and their gladiatorial paddleboard oars fights, he found himself completely lost. Everything had built towards this moment. The thing he wanted most was finally within reach. But instead of grabbing it with both hands, he only clutched Tova’s hand tighter.

The thought of putting this off crossed his mind. Cameron had joked that his sealskin was the only thing on earth with rounder cheeks than him; however, it didn’t help to ease Harrison’s worry that maybe they wouldn’t recognise him amongst a pod of normal seals. After a few years, would they even remember him or simply think he was some shared delusion and relegate him to a footnote in their story? Maybe so, but whatever happened, he was just glad to have walked in their shoes for a while, even if he never got used to wearing them. He thought it selfish, but he hoped the town would remember its loyal shop assistant and miss him, at least for a little while. 

As Harrison was finally about to slip back into the skin he was born in, the rest huddled a few metres behind him, shielding him from any would-be onlookers. He hadn’t yet brought himself to say goodbye to Tova and Cameron.

“So. This is it”, Cam said as casually as possible. He did everything he could to see Harrison off with a smile, so that he wouldn’t worry about them. Generously, Harrison let him think it worked.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Tova came close and squeezed his arm. “You behave now, you hear? Give your family a big hug for me when you see them.”

She said it with such certainty, Harrison almost believed her. “I will,” the selkie vowed. “I’ll… I’ll tell them everything. Thank you, Ms Sullivan.”

“Tova,” she tutted. “I think we’re a bit past that now, Mr Knott.”

He giggled gently. God, she was so like his grandmother. Not for the first time, he thought she would make an excellent selkie. “Tova, then…” His head dipped with a shy grin. “Yeah, I don’t think I can do it, Ms Sullivan.”

She kissed his forehead. Their hands remained connected while she softly patted the sealskin as she had done countless times before, and then stepped back, letting her grandson have his time alone.

They didn’t say anything at first, barely daring to make eye contact. While Harrison struggled to put the enormity of feeling into words, Cameron simply struggled to speak at all. They awkwardly shifted their weight between their feet in an even slower dance than Harrison was used to at Cameron’s gigs. Their mouths opened ‌and then closed again in unison to let the other go first.

“C-Cameron.” Harrison glanced down at his hand and sighed. During an extended trip to the bathroom, he had written his speech on his palm, determined to get it perfect. Unfortunately, sweat smudged it into a giant, black blob. “Um, look… I am so sorry about leaving without saying-”. He squinted, trying to salvage anything of use. “Y-you deserved better-”

The black clouds parted, and for a split second, the silver moon caught the nervous sheen of sweat. The way his crow's feet deepened when he concentrated, and the slight dilation of his pupils whenever he gazed upon Cameron’s lips as he did then.

Cameron kissed him, forcing the apology back down. Thin lips, just as uncoordinated as Harrison’s, slid across his mouth, slotting back into place as though they had never been apart. Harrison froze. So too did Cameron. He hadn’t planned on it, couldn’t even remember leaning in, and if he dared to open his eyes, he would have seen Harrison’s open wide in shock. Neither of them pushed, unsure if they had the right to anymore; rather, they imperceptibly swayed as one, breathing in each other's air as though it had to last them a lifetime. Now that was what coming home felt like.

The slightest twitch of muscle cut short the stillness, and an icy breeze filled the growing space between them as Cam pulled back, just an inch. But before he could apologise for his outburst, Harrison grabbed him by the string of his hoodie and deepened the kiss, begging for entrance with each swipe of his tongue. If this was his last opportunity to show the depth of his love, then he was going to make sure Cameron drowned in it.

And Cameron deliriously welcomed him in with a shuddering, punched-out noise, halfway between a joyous laugh and a wrecked sob. It didn’t matter what it was; Harrison wanted all of it. He drank them all in, transforming each sound into his own tiny moans of pleasure that Cameron committed to memory as if his very existence depended on it. 

When the kiss ran out of oxygen, Harrison forced himself to meet his eyes. “Look, Cam, you keep being nice, but I can’t go without saying sorry. It was selfish of me to stay as long as I did...”

“No- Harrison, don’t you get it? If you’re selfish, then God help me because then I am so selfishly in love with you.” Cam grabbed him by the shoulders. Empathetically punching out each word so that they would hit with an almost physical power. “You are everything I ever imagined in a selkie, and so much more than I dreamed of in a partner, but Harrison, your life is so much bigger than mine. I would have loved to be a part of it, but I can't - not if it means you have to give any of it up for me. So no more apologies, alright? Just thank you. Thank you for letting me share in it for a while.” 

Harrison couldn’t believe it. He stared at him in abject awe, like he was some sort of ‌divine angel from human legend, not just another, everyday thirty-something deadbeat. He had never felt so truly lucky.

“Just promise me one thing?” Harrison asked, his voice catching in his throat.

“Anything.”

“Don’t stop being you. Don’t stop writing your music, or noticing the little things.” His voice started to break. “A-and never stop loving. It has led you to the most incredible pod-”

It was reflexive. “And to you.”

“And to me,” Harrison choked. “I-I don’t think I would have survived without it.”

At that, Cam exhaled as if he’d been punched. How was he supposed to respond to something so corny? Nothing in his life prepared him for corny, or for that matter, sincerity. Cameron wasn’t sure he knew what Harrison saw in him that could inspire such a thing, but even he couldn’t question it when he kept kissing down every attempt to contradict. So eventually, he just gave up. And allowed himself to melt into Harrison’s arms with a defeated, shattered sob against his lips.

“I- I don’t know what to say, Harrison.”

Harrison’s breath tickled against his skin. “What does that Shakespeare of yours say?”

Cameron bumped his forehead against his, closing his eyes. He spoke straight into him, low and gravelly, as though he were an ancient oceanic god returning his life to him with every word. “... I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, I love you.”

He whispered those three words as though he had just discovered them resting there on the tip of his tongue, in the depths of his heart. With no more secrets between them, he felt their truth. He knew. He always did.

Cam heard it before he felt it. His Harrison once more, nuzzling his head into his neck like he used to do when he was drunk. A strangled, almost purr that yipped like a puppy vibrated along his tendons, a pale but genuine imitation of a seal’s contented burr. When he chuckled, it felt like he was blowing bubbles through his skin, making it pop out in goosebumps. 

Harrison nervously bit at his lip, searching Cam’s face for inspiration. The problem was, he had too much of it. "I-I… I don’t know what to say either.”

Luckily for him, Cameron did. He slipped his hand into Harrison’s pocket and brought out his portable cassette player. The tape inside made his eyes soften before he placed one earbud in Harrison’s ear and the other in his. 

“You already have.”

He pressed play. 

Confused, Harrison listened as intently as he could. The old cassette whirled into life, a cacophony of claps and applause boomed against his eardrums, and Cameron’s crooning rendition of Radiohead cut through it. However, that wasn’t why he played it. Harrison had this almost supernatural ability to transport himself back to a time and place where he had heard a song, remembering every detail as though he was experiencing it firsthand. Between the singing and the audience, Harrison made out his own voice, cheering away. Cameron must have caught it too, as a lopsided, watery smirk hooked his lips. 

On the tape, Harrison’s euphoric applause drowned out the entire bar’s attempt to keep up. He hooted and hollered, cheering him on and rousing their neighbours to join in the chants Cam’s name like he was Bowie or the Beatles. 

“You gave me the happiest day of my life without even trying. M’not gonna lie, this hurts. But just listen to that song, and I’ll be there.”

The earbuds kept them connected while Harrison bathed in the memory. Harrison may have got a handle on the intricacies of human speech, but Cameron had also learnt how to speak the selkie’s language. 

When Harrison didn’t respond, Cam asked soothingly. “Where are you now?”

Harrison cupped Cam’s cheek, his thumb tracing the swell of his cheekbone. Not pushing, just grounding himself to both moments. “Right here”, he said. Confident. Like he always would be. 

They gave the words time to settle between them, Harrison slowly returning from the haze of the music, until eventually it was time to go. He dropped the bud from his ear and returned the cassette to Cameron, who promised to return it to the cave, where they could return to listen to it whenever they needed it. 

Once it was securely away, Cameron’s voice lowered an octave, his hands clutching him so he couldn’t disappear without telling, no, urging him, “Even if we're not together, you'll always have a home here, you know that, right? Come visit anytime. I’ll recognise you.”

Harrison tried his best to smirk. “Well, maybe I won’t recognise you. What if you grow a patchy beard? All you humans look the same to me.”

His eyes widened in mock indignation, “I can grow an excel-”

But before he could fully respond, Harrison anchored his hand in Cameron’s hair and brought him close. The selkie rubbed his nose into his, flaring his nostrils in a sniffled ‘kiss’ as he breathed in his smell. “There”, he whispered. “Now I’ll always be able to find you.”

“Dude, you’re so weird”, Cameron tittered warmly.

Harrison winked. “I know. You love it.”

Cameron huffed a bittersweet laugh. He didn’t mean to give him the satisfaction of agreeing, but he said it anyway. Tenderly, Harrison whispered one last ‘I love you’ to his lips and let go. Tova came to Cameron’s side as Harrison skipped back and swiftly turned around. He was ready now. Without wasting another second, he undid his belt with three clumsy, harsh tugs and yanked his pants and underwear down together, shimmying out of them like a tequila-fuelled striptease.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Cameron shielded Tova to his side like a cheesy action hero, pirouetting clumsily like two drunk dancers.

“Oh dear, no- nope! Didn’t need to see that.” Tova muttered to herself, closing her eyes so tightly that her whole face scrunched up with it.

From the distance, Avery shouted, “Don't get us fucking arrested, weirdo!”

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. 

But dammit, Cameron really wanted to. As the belt buckle hit the deck with a resounding clank, he felt Tova laugh into his shirt, and at the base of the pier, Ethan watched all of it and took another swig of his whisky, toasting ‌a true honorary Scotsman. God help him, if Harrison didn’t hurry up, Cameron might fling himself into the ocean first.

After a bit more rustling, he could faintly hear Harrison’s breathing speed up. Excited little pants that grew into something deeper with each passing second. Heavy and rasping as though it wasn’t quite used to how this throat worked. In the distance, Ethan was mouthing something, or at least attempting to. Cam squinted. It looked a bit like ‘fuck’. Then the old Scot pointed.

“Arf! Arf!”

There he was. A seal. 

A fucking seal, rolling around on top of Harrison’s old clothes like it was the greatest thing that had ever happened under the stars. They stared down from on high, sharing in his delight as they twinkled their tiny spotlights, which did nothing to capture his unbridled ecstasy in that moment.

He housed the entire spectrum from white to black within his fur. His speckled spots clustered around his snout and fanned out under his long whiskers like someone had waved a paintbrush of white and eggshell paint over him in admonishment. It was as Cameron followed their path down his back that Cameron realised the spots mirrored the freckles of his human skin when he caught the sun for too long. He had been right back at the cave: this was insane.

Gloriously and beautifully insane. 

“Arf! Arfarfarf!”

The seal bounded up and down, clapping his flippers together in glee. Snaking his body across the pier, he galumphed at top speed, all three ferocious miles per hour, directly at ‌the humans and bunted his nose to their legs in small, little sniffling kisses. It tickled, which just made him do it more. Avery all but pounced on him, petting him like a dog, and smooshing his cheeks together as though it were taffy. Cam had never seen his friend such a bundle of excitement, but whatever she was doing worked as Harrison chirped up at her, his tongue lolling out until, almost instinctually, he rolled onto his back and showed them his tummy.

God, Cameron thought, I sure know how to pick ‘em.

“I love him,” Avery deadpanned. “If you ever need fish, you come to me, got it?”

Ethan sank to his rickety knees. He gave a few solid pats that made the seal’s belly jiggle. “Ah think of the business we could have drawn with a seal on the cash register.”

When Tova and Cameron didn’t immediately join in, Harrison slapped his stomach at the great indignity and grunted. In a daze, Cameron did as ordered, tutting, “Yeah, yeah, you’re cute. Get over it.” 

Seeing was one thing, but feeling the soft texture of his fur was another. When he scratched behind the seal’s ear, he nuzzled into Cam’s hand, looking up at him with the widest, darkest eyes. He couldn’t read them like he could when he was human, but Cameron thought he knew what that low, deep purr, reserved just for him, meant. He still sounded like the Harrison he loved, snuggled up warm and safe in bed after a hard day’s work. 

On Avery’s suggestion, they took a selfie with him. It wasn’t often Cameron agreed to have his picture taken, but for once he readily conceded, not even bothering to check his hair in his phone. The light dazzled the seal as the flash went off, recoiling dramatically as if lightning had struck him. With a few more tummy scratches, he recovered from his ordeal and suddenly whipped his head around, out towards the ocean. What was that?

Harrison sniffed the air, closing his eyes to reacquaint himself with the scents he had long forgotten. It was sharper, richer than anything his human nose could have dreamed of. He tracked the sea lions just over the embankment, the easterly storm brewing miles away, and the people, the marvellous people with their clawing perfume and wonderful whiskey. But even fifty years of oak-aged booze and dime-store deodorant wasn't enough to obfuscate Cameron underneath it all. Harrison grinned. Then grinned wider when he smelt all the indescribably delicious fish everywhere, just waiting for him like a delectable all-you-can-eat buffet. 

But he was getting distracted. He concentrated, really concentrated, until his tongue slipped loose and he took another sniff. There it was. His jaw dropped, a happy, warm fuzzy burr spilled from his throat. He barked again and again like an excited Labrador for them to follow and then, without ceremony, he waddled to the edge of the pier and cannon-balled right in.

Splash! 

It took a moment for the group to catch up with what they had just seen, but Cam lept into action first and ran to the edge of the harbour. “Oh, thank God”, he breathed, fearing that was the end. But there was Harrison, racing laps around the dock’s piling, making this godforsaken, vicious gargling noise as though his mission home had been one of conquest and pillaging. Whatever he was trying to do, it wasn't working. He stopped for a moment, his nose wrinkling in annoyance, took a breath, and ducked his snout back into the water. On his second attempt, the gargling softened into something smoother - almost transcendent, a tuning fork perfectly struck across every ripple and wave. It bubbled for a second and then pulsed away from him in steady, pounding beats that thrummed and yet somehow barely disturbed the surface. None of them had ever heard anything so otherworldly. Everyone, that is, except Tova.

It had been ‌one of her darkest moments, sitting alone on the pier, looking out at the echo of her son's final day alive. The same angelic, ringing hum reverberated across the ocean. She had always assumed she had dreamt it- but there was no mistaking it, it was the same. 

“Oh, sweetheart”, she sighed. She remembered it so vividly she could count it down. Three… two… one…

There it was. 

A flicker. And then another, and another. 

Spanning the entire crescent of the bay, the ocean burst into luminescent brilliance. Tiny glimmers of light ignited along the shoreline as the selkie’s voice woke the algae, turning the dark tide into a constellation of sea sparkle that rivaled the night sky. They surged with the current in glittering neon blues, burning so brightly it seemed the water itself was on fire. They were all enraptured by its beauty. But Cameron wasn’t staring at the algae, because at its centre, Harrison barked triumphantly, so very proud of his parting gift to all of them. He hoped it was better than shells. 

They stayed as long as they could until eventually, one at a time, the specks of light extinguished themselves, ebbing away until the soft sapphire hue fell from everyone’s faces. Even just from Cameron and Tova’s outline against the horizon, Ethan and Avery knew they shouldn’t be alone this evening. The two tapped them on the shoulder as they shivered from the cold and offered them a lift back to Ethan’s to celebrate, commiserate, or whatever the hell was appropriate after what just happened. They both accepted on the other’s behalf.

The newly reunited family stayed for a while as Ethan and Avery kindly cleaned up the aquarium and packed Harrison’s belongings. Tova had never felt so exhausted, and ‌yet, so full of life. She would have to be, she assumed, to help him over the coming weeks while she healed from her own loss, but she had a purpose now. One that wasn’t solely the aquarium or getting out of bed each day. Tova had never thought of herself as a natural parent, but she always reckoned she’d make a good grandmother. It would take time and effort, but everything that so did everything that mattered, and besides, if anyone could whip him Cameron shape, it was her.

“You ready to go?” she softly asked.

Cameron didn’t budge. He just pointed. “He’s still there. Look.”

In the distance, a dark blob poked its head from the water. The shine of his eyes was the only thing that differentiated him from the rocks. Completely steady amongst the waves, he floated there, just staring at them. Waiting.

Tova waved him away with an equally wavering laugh. “Shoo. Go. Fu-”. Cameron shot her a look.

 “-Eff off,” she corrected. 

In the distance, Cam could barely make out Harrison blinking slowly, like small, adorable kitten kisses. He couldn’t figure out what Harrison’s issue was. Unless- shit, did he feel like he was being pushed away? Did he want a proper goodbye to the whole town? Some hell of a send-off Cameron had given him, considering everything Harrison had done for them. Stop. He couldn't start spiraling into "what ifs" before they’d even left the pier, so he took a few deep breaths, anchored by Tova at his side and watched. 

What little remained of the glorious, shimmering algae encircled the seal as though helpless in his orbit. To Cameron, even the sky seemed to bend to him as the moon hung low and a dusting of stars reflected like diamonds in his eyes. He knew this was how it was supposed to be. Harrison looked radiant. He was home, free. And pulling each other closer, so were the two humans.

Maybe that was it.

He called across the pier and out into the water. “...You don’t have to worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

The seal bobbed, not yet moving. A wave swept past him, and as it receded back out to sea, only the glorious sea sparkle remained. Harrison was gone.

The ocean welcomed him back ‌like a dear old friend. The currents that had followed the same paths for millennia now entwined through his fur, breaking off into slipstreams as he twirled and rolled amongst the penetrating rays of starlight and schools of fish once more. If only Cameron were here to see him now. See? This is how you dance.

He felt like he could breathe again. This is what his paintings had been missing. Down he went, past the barnacle-encrusted fishing boats of locals he now knew by name, following the path of luscious coral and shipwrecks of generations long forgotten. As much as he wanted to learn them all again, he had but one thing on his mind.

Marcellus had told him about his old hunting grounds during their long evenings, watching the world and crowds pass them by. Knowing the ocean floor like the back of his fin, Harrison retraced the octopus’s story, weaving through the forest seaweed and straight into the rocky crevices below. 

And here Marcellus said he never listened.

A single, pale tentacle drifted through a small slit in the ocean floor. Harrison booped it with his nose, causing the tentacle to bat him away, but at the feeling of such soft fur under his sucker, Marcellus knew. Who else was that dim-witted to disturb such a vicious creature as he? The tentacle wound around his muzzle, feeling out his face, and after a pause, playfully swatted at him like the excitable pup he always called him. Finally, without the glass between them, Harrison lay by his side, and as Marcellus passed on, becoming one with the home he had longed for, Harrison told him every detail of how he had repaired the hole in the cleaning lady's and juvenile’s hearts. Of how his plan had worked, despite everyone’s best attempts to thwart it. 

And much to the smug delight of the old octopus, Harrison thanked him for writing his name in the sand.

Epilogue

For those who remained on land, life moved forward. 

Ethan couldn’t bring himself to find a new assistant, bemoaning that the coffee would never be as good, or the sandwiches so… smoky, as when Harrison did it. Avery went out every day, scouring the beach for trash, and later on her paddleboard, the same as always. Only ever diverting when she saw a seal in the distant bob its head, and wondered if it was Harrison coming to check on her. Just once, as Cameron rejoined her for his first lesson since the selkie left, they thought they saw a shadow swim underneath.

Cameron sold his camper and moved in with Tova. For the first few days, he all but trapped himself in his father’s old room, once again waiting for something to happen. But for the first time in his life, he was glad to say that nothing did. 

The sun still warmed his skin through the bars of his window, and the wind carried the song of the birds with the same ease as it did the hum of his new grandmother. The town didn’t lose its spark. He had to work harder to find it without his guide, but the customers at the shop still smiled when he passed, and the bar patrons cheered him warmly after his first gig back. McCoy’s luscious garden was the talk of the town thanks to the new pagoda Cameron built, and without Harrison there to wow the kids at the aquarium, Cameron took it upon himself to pass on all he learnt. With a few herrings to bribe the eels. Feeling human again, he found a job with the local construction firm. The hours were long and hard, but he kept at it, and surprising himself, he started up a savings account for community college. He thought Harrison would be proud of him for that.

And on the days when Harrison was all he could think about, when the bags under his eyes were so sunken he saw his mother’s face peering back at him, Tova was there, experience in hand, to pull him through. Cameron didn’t know if he forgave his mother, not yet. But looking in the mirror, he understood her better now. And that was enough to move on.

For Tova, she continued at the aquarium, taking up the day shift, surrounded by the people she finally enjoyed being around. When the first full moon came, she dawdled outside the entrance, hoping to see her favourite visitor once more, but the doorstep remained empty. Instead, she cleaned the spot where he always sat to talk to Marcellus, just in case he decided to return to meet the new eight-legged inhabitant. 

On the first full moon since he left, Tova cleaned the aquarium from top to bottom while Cameron walked to the alcove where he first saw Harrison clumsily dance. He spent the entire night there, waiting, just in case Harrison was late as usual. Half asleep, he worked on his new music while he waited, finding a strange new inspiration surrounded by all his boyfriend’s old things. Cameron hoped Harrison would like the original tracks he was writing, even if it wasn’t exactly something he could dance to.

When there was no sign of man or seal, Cameron quietly collected his guitar and made for town, looking back the whole time. Harrison’s absence stung; it likely always would. He didn’t think Harrison would ever return, not really, but Cam left the cassette player next to a new tape of his demos and a bottle of his favourite beer, anyway. Maybe next time he would write him a letter.

By the time he crept back home, Tova was up early to make breakfast. A medley of yoghurt and pancakes littered the table, and the bitter scent of strong black coffee filled the room. Cameron caught the subtle glance as she looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was there with him. They smiled sadly at each other; however, Tova insisted that, wherever he was, she was sure he was thinking of him, and despite his pessimistic nature, Cameron knew she was right. They filled themselves on her feast, trading stories of old selkie tales she’d passed down to Erik, and new stories of the one who touched their lives until the ache in their hearts eased. Their group selfie hung proudly over the mantelpiece.

And thus the next full moon followed the same pattern, until that is, Tova cleaned up the dishes and took out the bins after their customary breakfast feast. A rhythmic knock echoed throughout the house. Cam went up to get it, cursing under his breath. He hadn’t slept a wink in the cave. Who the fuck would call at this hour?

He swung open the door, ready to give them a piece of his mind-

And there he was.

Same wide smile that caught the sun. Same fluffy hair hastily styled with a takeaway fork.

The only new things were his shirt and pants, with a couple of clothespins still stuck to them from where he must have yanked them off a neighbour’s washing line. And two presents. So badly wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper that the logo for ‘Swedish Fish’ peeked through, and stacked so ridiculously high that they almost covered his face. His human face.

Cameron gawked. His whole body turned numb.

“H-Harrison…” He paused, waiting for the stranger to laugh and give his real name, or for him to disappear completely in a puff of smoke. But the man seemed to vibrate with barely contained excitement. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Seeing you, silly”, he teased. “It was a full moon yesterday. And! Ta-da! It's Christmas soon. Sorry I was late, but I wanted to get you something a bit better than shells.” He jostled the presents up and down. “That’s the tradition, right? You always come home for the holidays.”

Cameron was too shocked to be annoyed, subconsciously opening the door wider and twisting the knob in his hand to ground himself and confirm that no, he wasn’t dreaming. Not this time. 

“C-Christmas is months away.”

“Oh?” Harrison burned redder than Santa Claus. “Dammit. Sorry! I never got the hang of calendars. Um, you can have them anyway, if that’s not rude, or something-”

Cameron took them and placed them on the table next to the door without even looking at them. He was transfixed. 

“I- I… Are you okay?” he hurriedly asked. “Did something happen?”

Harrison shook his head. He certainly looked fine. Same stupid, grinning, handsome face. Infuriating, beautiful sea glass eyes. What was he playing at? He shouldn’t be here. He had better, bigger places to be - Suddenly frantic, Cameron took him by the shoulders, raking his palms over his chest, his arms, his neck and back to that still stupid, grinning, oh so very handsome face. He couldn’t see or feel anything wrong - but he could feel Harrison’s dimples deepening as he smiled even wider. It was dawning on him what this meant. But he refused to let himself believe it. He couldn’t go through it again.

“B-But the ocean” Cam stammered. “It was what you wanted.”

“It’s what I need, but you’re who I choose, Cameron. Humans aren’t supposed to let us go, but you did.”

He said it so simply. In the way only someone who had wrestled with it for so long and arrived at the only plausible conclusion, could. As though it were the only thing that ever possibly mattered.

Harrison entwined his fingers with Cameron’s and opened his hand just enough so he could rub his nose into the meat of his thumb. Cameron couldn’t help it. A low, raspy whine eked out of him as Harrison shifted just enough to press a small kiss into his palm. His brain was only coherent enough to point out the obvious. “And you came back.”

“And I always will”, the selkie promised. He moved Cameron’s fingertips to trace the shape of his reddening cheeks and the shell of his ear, wanting Cameron to learn him better than he knew the ocean. “If you’ll let me.”

Cam stared at him, his fingers now mapping him out with a mind of their own. He daredn’t blink. There was no choice to be had, no decision to be made. Only how to tell Harrison everything he felt in that moment.  

He just nodded.

It was all Harrison needed. Cameron’s seal turned into a shark as he devoured his mouth, pushing him through the door and kicking it behind him with a slam. Those rusty hinges would likely need replacing, Cam thought… Later. After they… Oh God, this was really happening.

It was pathetic. He was in his 30s, not a horny teenager. But Cameron couldn’t help it. Frankly, he didn’t want to. While Harrison clawed at him with the passion that had been simmering ‌under his skin for months, Cam rubbed his clothed, already hardening erection against the rough material of Harrison’s stolen jeans. A moan died in the human’s throat as his selkie growled. 

He wasn’t going to waste another second. Harrison marched him down the corridor, keeping his thigh lodged between Cameron’s legs for him to rut against, while his hand on the cushion of his ass only encouraged him on. But Harrison had been at sea for weeks and, by goodness, he had forgotten how hard walking was. 

Not even a tropical storm ravaging its way through their house could cause the chaos they did in a few short steps. Painting after painting fell off their nails, and ornaments tipped over their perch as the reunited lovers hit every wall and surface on their quest to god knows where. 

When he could bare take his hands off his butt, his chest, or his face, Cameron tried to guide them with flailing arms, latching onto every door before they hit the back of the house where Tova was taking out the trash, or worse, the kitchen table where Harrison may get ideas if Cameron didn’t have them first. Thankfully, he finally managed to grab his bedroom door frame for dear life. Harrison took the hint and slammed him against it. Without letting him catch his breath, Harrison hiked Cameron up as though he weighed less than the clothes he was about to tear off. His legs now wrapped around his muscular torso, Cameron groped at every inch of flesh he could reach. No one had ever pinned him like this, or kissed him like a beast to be tamed while he whimpered like a frightened pup. If all the blood shooting south and leaving him feeling light-headed was anything to go by, he rather liked it. Perhaps he’d like doing it to Harrison just as much.

“Shit, Cam. Am I moving too fast?”

No, no of course not you idiot. Hurry up and-

Cameron realised he was only thinking it. He’d already crashed his lips back onto Harrison, re-familiarising himself with the taste of him as Harrison possessed his mouth like he’d been gone years, not weeks. Maybe he wasn’t a selkie, maybe he was a dragon claiming him for his pile of treasures or an incubus come to suck him dry. Either way, his legs trembled for it worse than Harrison after a beer.  

Eventually, Harrison’s superior lung capacity won out. Cam pushed him away just enough to suck in enough air to stop the room from spinning, or was he spinning? No, he couldn’t be - not when Harrison had him in his strong arms like he was something precious. The break was just long enough for Cameron to really take it all in. His heart raged against his chest, like it was trying to dig its way out and get back to the one who truly held it prisoner. 

But Harrison could have it. Do whatever he wanted with it, just so long as he didn’t stop touching him. He stared into Harrison’s eyes, searching for a single spec of doubt. Yet Harrison just smiled. There.

That was the future he wanted.

Shit. He’d written it all out. His grand speech, if Harrison were to somehow ever return. God, he really was hopeless at these speeches. How was it that a seal was better than him at expressing himself? He paused for a moment, trying to distract Harrison by peppering kisses all over his face. But his knowing grin saw right through him.

Come on, Shakespeare, you fuck. What was he supposed to quote? Hamlet? Romeo and Juliet? He couldn’t think with Harrison groping his ass. Maybe he would quote a song? Over the buzzing in his head, he heard Tova seize his absence to turn on Simply Red. Absolutely not that one, no wait- Ah-ha! He knew just the one!

But in the time it took for his neurons to fire between brain and mouth, it was gone. All thought was gone. Stupid, grinning, handsome face. Instead, he dumbly muttered, “You really came back.”

Luckily for him, there was no greater compliment to a selkie, than making a human forget their thousands of years of language.

He brushed an errent hair from his sweaty brow, “There’s no Harrison Knott without Cam-.”

“Cameron Cassmore, what’s all that racket? Who was at the do-Oh God, Harri!” Tova shouted. Elation quickly turning into horror as she saw the blur of fingers undo her grandson’s belt. She sprinted to the back door before Cam could even turn his head. “Oh God- no no no, not again. No siree.” 

“Hi! Ms Sullivan - good to” He pecked Cameron’s neck. “-see you!”

Cameron scrunched his eyes shut, cursing how wrecked and desperate he sounded as he shouted after her, “Leave the clothes in the dryer- i’ll sort it later- Hmpfh!”

Tova wasn’t going to stick around to learn what had caused that ‘hmpfh’. 

Harrison would never understand humans’ insistence on modesty. He felt his would-be mate wither in his hands as she yelled at them to use protection and ran out the door. No matter, with a quick flick of the wrist, he removed the offending pants and then wrapped Cameron’s legs back around his hips and walked to the bed. With Cameron clinging onto him, suspended in the air, all of a sudden, Harrison seemed to find his feet again.

When he felt the mattress behind him, Cam braced for impact; however, Harrison placed him down onto the bed gently, all the frenzy and lust suddenly recaged. Standing at the foot of the bed, almost shyly, Harrison stripped himself of his clothes, one piece at a time. He hadn’t thought to steal a pair of boxers.

Fuck. No amount of money in the world could stop Cameron from watching every inch of his skin being revealed this time. Harrison was real. More than real. He was beyond reality, and even his wildest fantasies. 

“Ta-da.” Harrison tried to laugh, but he was obviously nervous in this body. Selkies were supposed to be supernatural in their appearance, as were human mates to each other. His cheeks burned as his hands glided up and down his own body, as if he couldn’t decide which bit to shield first.

Cameron didn’t know where he found the wherewithal to speak, but that wouldn’t do.  With a beckoning finger, he managed a quiet, eager, “Come over here.”

Harrison looked more at ease ‌crawling up the length of the bed next to Cameron. He anxiously followed Cameron’s line of sight as he devoured him with his eyes, displaying the same reverence and ferocity that Harrison had shown with his mouth. With tender, trembling fingers, Cameron traced the path of freckles down the chords of his neck, through the light dusting of his toned yet ample chest and across the slight swell of his tummy that had filled out in his month away. He remembered every one of those spots from staring at their selfie on the pier. There were scars, ones he’d never seen when they lived together. Misadventures on full moons where he’d lost control of his gangly body that Cameron would ask him about one day. They had time for things like that now. He was better than the legends, he was perfectly imperfect. He was Harrison, all of him, through and through.

Cam tried again. He vowed he wouldn’t let Harrison go another second without understanding how much Cameron cherished his return. That he never had to worry about him betraying him. That his promise to make sure he was happy was the kind of promise he’d build a life on.

“I…”

Harrison shushed him.

“I know. I know.”

Seeing Cameron’s eyes well up, the selkie placed a chaste kiss into the waves of his hair, making himself a home with the man he trusted more than thousands of years of legends. The rippled sheets of his bed felt as natural on Harrison’s skin as the currents of the Pacific. 

“Just tell me one thing?” Harrison whispered, kissing Cam once on the bony button of his nose.

“Hm?”

With complete sincerity and curiosity he asked, “How many orgasms can you humans have?”

Cameron blinked. “What? Er, like, just one normally.”

Ah. Just one, eh? Harrison winked at him, oh so mischievous and cheesy that Cameron knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was totally fucked in more ways than one.

Lucky for him, his selkie was a self-proclaimed expert on humans now. He just had one last area to discover. He rubbed his hands together and stuck his tongue out like a villainous, goofy mastermind, and before Cameron could roll his eyes, Harrison wrapped the silky covers around them and dove beneath their surface.  

From that day on, the rumour of mysterious trinkets left outside the aquarium died down. Ethan found himself reunited with his favourite coffeemaker and detested baker. He didn’t let a few things, like Google Reviews, deter him from giving him a promotion, and, overjoyed to have his honorary Scotsman home, he even overlooked the occasional missing fish from his new and improved fishmonger’s stand. It paid for itself when every customer left the shop with a glowing smile.

And Avery raked in the money with her guided paddleboard tours, famed for their almost guaranteed seal sightings, and the recycled model dinosaurs in the shop that went viral. She even started a local beach clean-up group to scavenge the materials for when her friend came home. They became so popular that even her normally unimpressed son took part, who expanded the collection to local wildlife and even facades of the shops and landmarks of Sowell Bay. Eventually, he developed his own style, so unique and evocative that he won a competition to have them displayed as ‌part of the local gallery’s exhibition on the Bay. On the grand unveiling, Harrison wept with pride in his young protégé as his work held its own amongst the paintings and statues of people with more years of experience than he had on earth. He was so moved by the artwork immortalizing the town that had welcomed him like one of their own that he made it his mission to sell every last piece by the end of the night. And he succeeded. Not even the stuffiest, most pretentious art critic could resist his enthusiasm and his heartiest sales pitch. Or maybe they did it so he would leave them alone.

He loved all of them, but there was one painting in particular that caught his eye.

Just as he was leaving, its’ artists came up to thank him. Seeing her painting of the ocean under Harrison’s arm, she smiled. It was the only one of the night that had sold far beyond its asking price.

“Hey, have we met?” she asked. Harrison didn’t think he responded in English, it may have just been seal. He had learned to cope with many awkward, and complicated emotions in his time as a human, but star-struck hadn’t been one of them. But she laughed anyway, held out her hand, and shook. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Arf”.

Within the coming months, Tova appreciated the improvements to her father’s house that her grandson made, all with just as fine an eye for detail and an unsaid understanding for thicker bedroom walls. Back when Cameron first moved in, she had thought it would take her a while to get used to sharing her house again, but it didn’t feel like her father’s vision now without her two boys there to share in it.

Before he left, Harrison had described how he felt stuck on the outside of their house as they filled it with life. It took a while for him to truly believe such a home could be permanent, but once it sank in, his belongings from the cave all entwined with theirs across the house, his new toothbrush next to Cameron’s and a fish casserole always in the fridge, he knew they would never let him feel like that again.

And on the times when Harrison returned to the ocean, Cameron was at work, and the house was impeccably clean through the trio’s joint efforts, she had Ethan over more and more for company. He still had a shop to attend to, yet there always magically seemed to be someone to take over when she rang with two wine glasses in hand, ready and waiting. Besides, if he wasn’t free? Tova Sullivan never struggled to keep busy. After all, she and Terry had a lot of planning to do. They’d already been in contact with the wildlife sanctuary back in Hawaii. Luckily for them, the owner had laughed down their ridiculous, stuttering attempt at organising a temporary despite for one homesick seal. He’d been around long enough to know not all the beach's inhabitants were as they seemed. So now all they had to do was wait for the paperwork and one seal-sized crate to arrive, and their first family holiday to Hawaii could begin. She couldn’t wait to tell them. 

But while some rumours fell to history, old ones came to the fore. The kind and curious seal who helped sailors and wayward swimmers was a feature of many barfly’s repertoire. Cam and Harrison had agreed to keep the sealskin hidden in a place only the selkie knew, allowing him to return to the sea at any time, so long as he returned on the full moon. Thus, the myths of the strange dancing man kept the town in rapturous anticipation of updates. The solo dancer had somehow found its (usually clothed) double in the drunken tellings of the town’s mailman. And the music had improved in the even more drunk telling of the local college kids. But when the Knit-Wits group discussed such an exciting development to proceedings, Tova gave her boys a hard stare, far more successful than Harrison ever managed to muster.

In their defence, Cameron had done what he could to enforce a ‘no shirt, no dancing’ policy at Tova’s (and the sheriff’s) insistence. However, when his selkie, his soulmate, returned, refreshed from the ocean, topless and soaking wet under the silver light of the full moon; what else was there to do but snuggle up on the shore, strum at his guitar, and fall under his true love’s siren’s song?

Watching them from her porch, the one her father had made with his own two hands to last his family for generations, Tova Sulliva smiled. A true smile that warmed her from the outside in, spreading to Ethan, even as he snored on the deckchair beside her. One day she would be gone, and she would pass down this home to Cameron. Perhaps in time he would do the same for his children. But until then, she took a small sip of her cocoa and turned the radio down to listen. Her ankle fully healed, she swayed majestically to her grandson’s music and the enthusiastic, if tuneless, singing of one very spunky selkie. 

Despite how long it took them to find their way home, Tova knew Erik would have been proud of how his family’s fairytale turned out.

Tagging some of the people following along who may not have seen it in the lewcest community off the top of my head<3 @musicislove3389 @starwarskawaii @starryeyedastronaut @prettygirlwyattrussell

There were his clothes scattered around the floor, his kitchen covered in empty takeout boxes and half-full protein shake mixers. His workout equipment was still in its place. His heart jumped out of his chest when his feet met the baseball bat lying on the carpet, showing little droplets of his blood. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared with the only rooms left, the small bedroom and the even smaller bathroom. 

Jordan could peek into the bathroom from the hallway, nothing strange, but from the bedroom, from beneath the door shines a dim light. Since the cops busted him in the middle of the day, Jordan is 100 percent sure he didn’t leave it on. His phone ends up in his pocket, holding on tight to the knob, shoving the door open with his foot. 

The unnatural warmth of the room sends a pleasant shiver through his spine, the source of light being his bedside table and on the bed, well it was definitely not what he expected. Snoring mixed with mumbles filled the room. There was a man in his bed, nothing out of the ordinary except that Jordan had never seen this man in his life. 

To make matters worse, he was in scrubs, maybe he left from the psychward, maybe he is a serial killer or a psychopath. With little steps, he approaches the bed further. If there is one thing Jordan had, it was extraordinary knowledge of humans, this man was definitely not dangerous. He put the bat down and accidentally hit the bedframe, the stranger seemingly unbothered by the noise. Technically, he could kill him; there is probably a law for that. He could ruttle him awake and throw him out of his apartment. 

Yet the way the brunet man rolls around, clinging to one of the pillows, drooling a little from the corners of his mouth- how could he? Maybe that guy just needed a good amount of sleep, Jordan has been in worse places before. With an exhausted breath and a shake of his head, he walks to the bathroom or rather the shower. The warm water running down his body attempts to wash away the shame, memories and troubles of the past few days. To a certain extent it works, afterwards he feels at least a little better, his mind occupied with what he should do with the man, that is until he steps into the living room. 

With only a towel wrapped around his hips, he observes as the stranger hastily searches through Jordan's wallet, holding a twenty-dollar note to his chest as if he just hit the jackpot. Everything that happened so far crashes over him in a big, dangerous wave, fists clenched so strong his knuckles turn ivory white, jaw so tight it may break his jawline. 

The poor stranger doesn’t stand a chance. Jordan is on him in a heartbeat, punching the wall right next to his head. „What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Wow, the scared, horrified midnight blue eyes staring back at him were something else. Jordan has to bite the pain coming from his hand down as he grabs the slightly lacerated collar, pinning the man against the wall completely. Is that gold? Flicking between the blue? Anyway, „Answer me or I'll call the cops!” 

„I’m- I’m Bob and I don’t remember, I don’t remember how I got here.” Jordan allowed himself a good look not missing the trembling and the injection sites. „You a methhead?” There would have been nicer ways to phrase it, but right now Jordan didn’t have the patience for it. Suddenly he is the one pressed against the wall, for the first time ever he clearly underestimated someone. He should have kept the bat nearby just in case. 

„Not anymore. I think. Sorry for disturbing you. I-I leave.” Bob drops the bill but does not make it to the front door, the brutal knock freezing every cell in his body. „Jordan, you little piece of shit! I know you are there. You still owe me my money!” 

Did he lock the door when he came back? The answer comes in the form of Terry pushing the door open until it cracks the wall behind it, ignoring Bob and coming straight for Jordan. The crack that follows lets Bob flinch, the blue in his eyes losing the battle, gold replaces it all over. 

„Leave him alone.” Jordan, who is curled up on the ground, holding his nose and hissing, looks up, not believing his own eyes. That Dude is floating above the god damn ground. 

Terry, who is probably stoned out of his mind, doesn't seem to notice and leaps at Bob and gets smashed through the wooden front door, head hitting the railing with a sharp, metallic crank. To their luck, nobody in that building seems to care or dares to come. 

Bob collapses while Jordan manages to stand up, inspecting Terry and fortunately finding a pulse. The growl is what catches his attention next. Bob wants to stand up but falls again. With urgent steps, Jordan is on him, lifting him and placing him on a chair. „Fuck dude, you knocked that shithead down without effort, you have to tell me your gym routine.” 

„My what? Oh my god, is he dead!?” 

„Chill, just unconscious.” While talking, Jordan paces his apartment, shoving everything he can into plastic bags. “Listen, you can’t stay here.”

„Wasn’t planning to. What are you doing?” 

„Can’t stay here either, too much shit going on. I can drop you off somewhere, friends, family?” 

Gaze drifting off, and lips pressed together, Jordan doesn’t need long to count one and one together.

„You’re alone?” Bob nods in defeat, why should he even try to lie? „Well, if you want to, you can come with me, I guess everywhere is better than here.” Bob shyly looks over to the unconscious man, he wanted to become a better person, but apparently it only got worse. 

„Hey, it's the least I can do for you since you got rid of that pig for me, no reason to get all shy.” Bob almost slides from the chair as Jordan throws some clothes into his lap. 

„Take them or else people think you broke out of a psych ward, you didn’t, right?” Again Bob nods, even though he is not sure, his mind is covered in a layer of fog. 

„Good, superboy, now get dressed.” 

„I’m not a dog.” Jordan's smirk is as amused as the huff that fills the air. One step out of the living room and Bob gets stopped by him blocking the way. 

„Well, you still slept in my apartment, don’t you think I deserve some compensation for that?” 

Bob could do the same thing to him as he did to Terry still, he chooses not to. Why? Honestly, he doesn’t know. Bob turns around for the lower part, feeling Jordan's eyes on his ass the whole time, hearing a lick of his lips once. For the upper part, he turns around, and Jordan's jaw drops to the floor. „Damn, you are shredded.“ Poor Bob can’t help himself but blush and the stupid yet genuine comment. 

Before Terry can wake up they are in Jordan's car, hitting the road, but that is not where Jordan's eyes are fixed. 

„What?” 

„I’m just jealous my clothes look better on you than they do on me.” After a while, a comfortable yet static silence settles between them, both having so many questions. As Jordan is about to ask one, Bob takes the word before he can. „Sorry, I’m just not in the mood to talk, okay? Later.” 

Jordan can live with later, so he is not poking. Bob, on the other hand, feels bad since he is the one who agreed to the ride. 

„What about you? You a dealer or something? Was that guy an unsatisfied customer?”

„No, no drugs, I’m a life coach actually.” Bob can’t hold back a giggle, the conviction in his voice not making it better. „So you are one of those dudes that tell you that meditation and waking up at 5 am is the answer to aaaaaall your problems?” Bob definitely hit a nerve here. Jordan's lips form into a thin line, his eyes widen, then turn into a hard glare. 

„First of all, it is way more complicated than that. Some people need years, if not decades of practice…” Bob really wants to listen, and for the first five minutes or so he does, the second his head rests against the car window, admiring the lights of the traffic, the streetposts, and the apartment windows they pass. They lure him to sleep in no time. 

At first Jordan doesn’t notice and goes on and on and on until a snore catches his attention. He should be pissed, he really should, but how? The rain has stopped, and given the high temperatures, the humidity causes Bob's curls to turn even more curly. There is already a stain of saliva on his shirt, and he looks just so peaceful. So all Jordan does is take a deep breath and reach behind him for a jacket. 

The second he draped it over Bob, he clung to it, curling up like a newborn. Mindful not to wake him, he brushed the strand of hair that covers half of his face behind his hair. So it doesn’t tickle him, not because Jordan wants a better view of Bob's face, that would be absurd. On the other hand, what in his life wasn’t right now?

-------------

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Rhett

Rhett’s jealousy only really reared its head before him and Harrison got together, the first time being when he was talking to Harrison on the phone and all the sudden Harrison went “Crap! I have to go, I’ve got a date”. When the immediate shock finally settled Rhett was just left with a sinking feeling, he didn’t even say goodbye to his friend over the phone, just grunted out a “Okay” and let him hang up. There last in person interaction had let Rhett to believe that Harrison was interested in him, at least he thought so, but if Harrison was out there dating other people what did that mean? Maybe Rhett had realised too late again and this would be another Maria situation, where he had to watch the person he was attracted to go off and be happy with someone else.

Rhett tried the entire evening to push the thoughts of Harrison on a date out of his head, but unfortunately when he managed to do so with one thought, another one would take its place. It gets to the point where during dinner Royal even made a “Boy I don’t know what’s got you so upset but don’t go takin’ out on your mothers cooking” after Rhett had jabbed one of his baked potatoes a little too hard and sent it flying across the table. Rhett just mumbles an apology and excuses himself from the dinner table, he’s just tired and wants to go to bed at this point.

Rhett has only just closed his eyes when he hears his phone buzz, he opens it to a you still awake? text from Harrison. He quickly types back date go that badly?  Because it’s still way too early in the evening for a date to be over and for it to have gone well. *buzz* zero spark.. but that is just what happens when your elderly neighbour tries to set you up on a blind date XD. Relief floods through Rhett’s body, he instantly feels silly for letting such a trivial thing get him down and he has to stop himself from replying with something stupid like maybe go out with me instead next time, instead going to the tried method of teasing Harrison about having his elderly neighbour as his matchmaker. They end up spending the rest of the evening talking on the phone and planning Rhett’s next trip to Harrison’s place, Rhett is just glad that there will be a next visit, it’s getting to the point where there just isn’t enough time when he goes there, he wants more time with Harrison in general.

The second time Rhett gets jealous it happens right in front of him at a bar. Harrison had gone to get more drinks for the group, bumped into someone and was now happily chatting with them for what felt like far too long. It got to the point where one of their friends just up and said “Alright I’m going to go rescue Harrison, because you look like you are about to shatter that bottle in your hand.” To which Rhett replied with a “Don’t bother him, it’s not like he looks like he needs rescuing or anything” before taking a long swig of his drink and looking over at Harrison who was beaming at the person he was talking to. The friend however was over having to deal with this circus, gets up anyway, goes over to Harrison and taps him on the shoulder, then points to the booth where Rhett is still sitting.

Rhett just has to sit and watch as Harrison face drops a little, morphing from calm and happy to one of concern, he turns back to the person who he has been talking to says something and grabs out his phone. Harrison and their mutual friend make their way back to the booth with the friend making a “I can’t take you anywhere without someone hitting on you, so you gonna call them?” comment. Harrison gives a chuckle and while looking directly at Rhett says “Hmmm maybe, but I don’t think they were really my type”. Okay maybe Rhett was getting worried again over nothing, maybe he just needs a little more liquid courage to actually get to the point of admitting to Harrison that he likes him, yeah he’ll just have a few more drinks then they’ll talk.

Harrison

Harrison on the other hand will claim that he doesn’t get jealous, though every time someone is a little too friendly with physical contact while “chatting” to Rhett after a ride he will find himself putting his arm around Rhett and pulling him nice and close. Rhett just finds the whole thing very cute when he does it, but he’s also thankful because people getting too handsy with him has always been an issue and now he has a very good and very handsome excuse to get out of those situations.

The one time where Harrison was the most jealous was during his separation from Rhett, he was helping their mutual friend out with wedding stuff and the current task was going through all of the RSVP’s. They had been making steady progress when Harrison came across Rhett’s one, he’d been aware that Rhett was getting invited to this wedding, he was Spencers childhood friend of course and half of Wabang was going to be in attendance. But the thing that caught Harrison’s eye right away was that Rhett was bringing a plus one, it was going to be hard enough seeing his ex after 2 years but now he was going to have to see him with someone else? No doubt he could get through it but it was still going to hurt a little. It would be good to see Rhett happy and he hoped that whoever this Miles Miller person was made him so, despite everything that had happened he still deserved happiness.

“Oh is that Rhett’s?” Spencer asked extending his hand to grab the RSVP.

“Yeah.” Harrison responded handing it over “wait how did you even guess that?”

“Because you made that face where you look like a depressed seal” Spencer chuckled then added “Let me guess he’s bringing someone?”

“I do not look like-“

Before Harrison could even protest any further Spencer put his hand up, let out a small laugh and said “Oh it’s just Miles, he’s not bringing a date at all.”

Wait how could Miles not be his date?

“What do you mean?” Harrison asked

 “Look it’s a long story and not really mine to tell, but to put it plainly they are just friends.” Spencer explained “Plus I think you’d really like Miles, he’s helped Rhett a lot these past 2 years.”

“I’ll take your word for it”

Harrison tried to not have the feeling of relief plastered all over his face, but he felt the rising jealousy fade by the second. He wasn’t sure he would have any time on the day to even see Rhett much less meet this new friend of his, since his best man duties would surely keep him busy.