came for the memes, stayed for the self-insert fic

“Listen, buddy-” the man started, giving her one more squeeze before one of his hands slipped off of her. He held it in front of him, trying to placate Adrian, but it did no good. Adrian’s brow furrowed the moment the man squeezed her and before she could even blink, he reeled back and punched the man square in the jaw. 

He went down like a sack of potatoes.

She gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth. 

“Adrian!” she said, reaching for the incensed man, trying to pull Adrian back as he moved towards the man who was cradling his bloody nose. He ignored her hands trying to tug him away as he glared down at the man.

“You don’t ever touch her again, ever. Do you understand me?” His voice was tight, as if he was fighting the urge to do something worse than punch the man, and even though she hadn’t been working with Adrian for more than eight months, she knew he could easily kill him for her, and the look on his face told her he wanted to.

“What the fuck man!” he cried. “You broke my nose!” 

“I should’ve broke your fucking hand,” Adrian spit out. “You don’t touch her, you don’t look at her, you don’t even fucking think about her. Do you understand me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, yes!” he cried, the man's blue eyes frantic as he avoided looking at her. When Adrian finally looked at her, he was seething. 

“Come on,” he said firmly, grabbing her hand while she was still in shock to pull her out of the club. It was once he touched her that she snapped out of her daze, looking back at the man on the ground being helped up by someone else. 

Then she really comprehended what was happening. 

“Adrian!” she said, ripping her hand out of his grasp, and he looked at her eyes, his were wide and confused. 

“What?” he asked, eyes straining against the light. Clearly trying to understand why she was reacting the way she was.

“That was a fucking lead and you punched him!” she yelled, eyes flickering around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. “You weren’t doing your job! You were supposed to be at the bar watching my back and when I looked over you were gone! How was I supposed to signal you that I had found someone from the dossier?” 

“Him?” he asked, brows furrowed and even though they were no longer anywhere near that man he still tried looking behind her for him. “He’s not a target.”

“I swear to you, he was familiar! I think he was in the dossier!” 

“He’s not,” he said, firmly. She fought the urge to scream as she moved away from Adrian, making her way towards the elevator. “He looked nothing like any of the targets!” Adrian cried as she continued stomping away.

“Okay Adrian! I get it! I wasted my time, fucking move on!” she said as he kept pace with her. 

“I was just trying to protect you,” he said adamantly, keeping on her heels. 

“Okay!” she said, trying to get him to stop. She could feel her temper rising and she wanted nothing more than to just be away from him. 

“Your husband-” he started. 

“Adrian!” she cried, spinning on her heel to face him. “Jesus! I’m not your wife! We have nothing Adrian! Nothing! Do you realize that?” she yelled, she waited a beat before she couldn’t stand looking at him anymore and she continued walking away from him. She could hear him keeping pace with her. As annoying as it was, she was glad she could keep yelling at him. “Our first lead this entire week! You might think he wasn’t in the dossier, but I do, and you didn’t let me do my job! Plus, you punched him, so even if I found him later, he probably wouldn’t talk to me at all!”

“He was touching your ass, sorry for playing the part of your HUSBAND!” he yelled. She pulled at her hair, not understanding why he wasn’t listening to her. 

“Adrian! Are you listening to yourself? You’re not my husband! This isn’t a real honeymoon! We are undercover for our jobs, and I know that to you, your job is all fun and games, but I do care about my job and doing good work. The last thing I need is to lose my job because you don’t know how to act during an undercover mission!” He stepped back like she had physically hit him, there’s something in his expression that makes her feel ill. 

“Right, that’s all this is,” he muttered, and something twists in her. 

“Yes, Adrian. This is my job, I’m trying to do my job. You should fucking try it sometime,” she snapped making her way towards the elevator. He still followed her, a little less close this time, but at least he was silent as they got into the elevator. He remained silent as she hit their floor number and the elevator closed and started moving.

The elevator shook and Adrian gasped next to her, his hand grabbing hers tightly. 

“What was that?” 

“Adrian, don’t start,” she said, rubbing her eyes with her other hand, not finding it in herself to pull her hand out of his yet. All she wanted was to be back in the room and to lock herself in the bathroom. Anything to get away from him for just five minutes. The elevator shook again and out of the corner of her eye she saw him pull out a knife from god knows where. “Jesus Christ, put that away,” she said, hand on his arm as he held it steady and pointed out as he glanced all around the elevator. 

“It’s a trap,” he hissed. 

“It is not, Adrian! None of this is a trap because there’s no way this is even a fucking mission at this point. We’re going back with nothing, and you’ll be fine because you’re tight with everyone, and I’m going to lose my fucking job because I’m a bad agent who can’t even handle a simple under cover mission!” she said her voice shrill even to her own ears, quick to swipe away any tears. She knew she was weak but she didn’t need Adrian to see it even more. 

Before he could say anything, the elevator shuttered back to life, jerking the two as Adrian put his knife back wherever he had grabbed it from.

“See, not a trap,” she grumbled as she released his hand and headed towards the room, her brain still swimming.

The door slammed behind Adrian as she pulled out the dossier, ripping out pages and fighting the urge to scream. She laid everything out on the bed, attempting to take any of it in a new light. 

“This makes no fucking sense!” she cried as she took a step back from the dossier she had spread on the bed. 

“Maybe, we’re missing a page?” Adrian tried, eyebrows tight on his forehead as he looked at the pages with a frown. 

“We’re not missing a page, they’re numbered. Maybe Harcourt left something out? Did she make this instead of Chris?” 

“Chris didn’t say, but I’d assume Chris, based on some of the misspelling.” Adrian said with a hum. She frowned and took a step back.

“I’m calling Harcourt, I know Chris said to limit contact, but we need something,” she said as she clicked Emilia’s contact. She answered on the third ring. 

“Hey, lover girl. How’s your getaway with Vig going?” she said with a teasing tone, and she felt heat creep up her neck, immediately regretting the fact she had her on speaker phone. 

“Listen, Emilia, we’re really stuck here. We think we might be missing a page in the dossier or something. Do you know anything about our main target’s connection to this place?” she said, practically begging for an answer as Emilia stayed silent on the line. “Just anything we can use. We’re running out of time.” 

“What do you mean dossier?” Emilia asked after a beat.

“I know, Chris’s dossiers are terrible, hence this mess, and you can barely call it a dossier but we are really lost, right now and could use-”

“Why do you have a dossier? You two are on PTO,” Harcourt said and she froze, looking over at Adrian.

“No, we’re on a mission. Chris sent us here to bust a drug ring,” she said slowly, the gears in her head starting to turn as she realized what was happening. 

“I’m telling you now that you’re on PTO, there’s no mission,” Harcourt repeated back, just as slow as she did, in almost a mocking tone. “Now go enjoy a margarita for me and please keep track of how many times Adrian says something stupid. I have a bet with Ads that he’s going to ruin this before you even give him a real chance.” Harcourt hung up and left her staring at Adrian who looked at her clearly waiting for her reaction. 

“Call Chris,” she said tensely, and Adrian looked at her with wild eyes as he got his phone out and called Chris. “Speaker,” she said, and Adrian listened.

“Yo, Vig. What’s up?” Chris said she could hear video games in the background, she gritted her teeth as she nodded at Adrian to answer him. 

“Hey, Peacemaker! I was uhhh just wondering if you had any information about our target?” Adrian asked, eyes wide and on her. Her eyes were locked on his phone. 

“Target? What are you talking about?” Chris asked, and Adrian frowned. 

“The mission - the dossier you gave us?” Adrian asked, looking at her. 

“Oh, that…fuck Vig, you’ve been taking that seriously? That was just an excuse to get you guys to the resort - I figured you guys would’ve figured out that it was bullshit immediately. Like on the plane like instantly. I made it all up, just copy and pasted shit from old dossiers.” 

“Why the fuck are we on a fake mission, Chris!” she said, snatching the phone from Adrian. 

“What do you mean why the fuck are you on a fake mission where you guys have to be lovey-dovey? I thought it would finally get you guys fucking started! Do you know how exhausting it’s been watching you two for six months?” Chris said, as if they had truly been inconveniencing the man with their crushes and silent looks.

“That’s fucking insane!” she cried. 

“I’m so sorry for trying to help my friend hook up with the girl he’s clearly in love with and the girl who stares at him all day and acts like he hung the stars in the sky!” 

“I’m going to hang up now,” she said coolly, not giving Chris a chance to say anything as she kept her gaze locked on Adrian, who looked like he was about to be sick. “Adrian, have you actually liked me this entire time?” she asked gently, and she watched him bite his cheek. 

“I need you to define ‘liked’ and ‘this entire time’,” he settled on, and she groaned, throwing herself on the plush bed with all the papers covered in lies that had been haunting her this entire fake mission. She was no longer able to even look at Adrian, she was so frustrated. He had put her feelings through the ringer all week, only for her to find out that he had felt the same way. Apparently he had felt this way long enough for Christopher Smith of all people to try to help him out and set them up.  

“You’ve liked me this whole time? Adrian, I’ve been thinking this is all pretend, and it’s been fucking with my head!” she yelled at him, moving her eyes from the ceiling to not miss his reaction, and she watched him throw his hands up in the air and begin pacing. 

“I thought it was part of the mission! I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable like I’m some creep! I’m a feminist! Same thing when we’re at work! I’m not trying to harass you…ya know sexually!” he said back, eyes wide and wild. 

“You thought me sitting in your lap on an empty beach was part of the mission?” she said, sitting up, as annoyed as she felt she couldn’t help but be endeared by Adrian’s clear panic. “We both knew we weren’t going to spot a single target!”

“Yeah, a really fucking good part of the mission, I jerked off in the bathroom that night thinking about that!”

“Adrian!” 

“What! I fucking did! Or should we go back to lying?” he said, his tone wild as he leaned over towards her. She sighed as she watched his chest heave. His face was red, and his eyes were still having a hard time focusing on her. It was then she realized that Adrian was feeling angry or frustrated like she was - but where she was upset that they both had been so blind to the other’s feelings, he was borderlining a panic attack. 

“Adrian,” she said softly, standing up so she could wrap him up in her arms. He stayed stiff for a beat, just a second, before he melted against her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against him. 

“I don’t want to go back to lying,” he murmured into the top of her head, and she sighed. 

“This is insane,” she said, still not over what Chris had done. 

“When have our friends ever been sane,” he whispered, shaking his head. 

She sighed, letting herself close her eyes as she tried to digest any of this. It was absolutely insane that Chris would do this to his friend and his coworker, but there was a part of her that was thankful for Chris’s stupidity and dumbass plans. 

“Remember the first night?” he asked, suddenly out of the blue. When she tilted her head, confusion over her features Adrian kept going. “When you asked me what my number one fear is?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s losing you. Well it’s losing everyone, but the more time we spend together, it’s you. The idea that one day, everyone could just be gone? That I could fuck up and lose everyone, especially after how long it took for me to have friends? and you? Whatever you call this where I pine for you and I'm your annoying colleague at worst and work friend at best? I'll take it, as long as I get to have you in my life it's worth it. So losing you terrifies me more than anything,” he said, his face open and vulnerable as his eyes searched her face, almost desperately. 

“Oh, Ade.” she said softly. 

“I’m serious, you’re…you’re everything to me.” 

“You-”

“From the moment you interviewed, I liked you, and I liked you even more when you started putting sour candy on your desk and you were always nice to me and you laugh at my jokes like you mean it and I just…I love you.”

“Adrian,” she said, her breath caught in her throat as she searched for any inch of lying on his face, but she couldn’t find any. 

“Is that too insane? Too much?” he said immediately, looking panicked. “If I had known Chris’ plan, I would’ve planned a way better speech and ran it by Ads too to make sure it was good and I didn’t say anything stupid. But then again if I knew Chris’ plan I would’ve told you immediately because we’ve been working when we should’ve been relaxing. Even if you don’t like me back we could’ve just had a normal vacation. God, I’m so sorry he did this.”

“No…it’s not insane,” she whispered, moving closer to him. A smile broke out on his face as his hands went to her waist, squeezing her gently. 

“Yeah?”

“Love is…a lot for right now,” she said, his smile twitching for just a second. “But I do really like you Adrian. This whole mission has been torture because all I wanted was for all this to be real. For you to look at me and for it to be real and I just…”

“It’s always been real,” he said, voice almost sounding hoarse. “The way I look about you and think about you. I wasn’t acting, if anything I’ve been selfish this whole time.” 

“The way I’ve been with you, it’s been real too,” she said, voice shaking. 

“I am sorry,” he said, suddenly sounding rueful as she looked at him. Confusion all over her features. “For not being there when you needed me, I should’ve been watching and making sure you were safe. I want to do that, not only for missions but outside of all this,” he said, fidgeting with his hands, his face almost looking like he was in pain. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, realizing how hard Adrian must’ve taken her words. 

“It’s not,” he said, voice firm. “But I’d like to make it up to you if you’ll let me,” he asked, his green eyes never wavering from her eyes. His intensity made her start to well up, this whole time it had been eating her up inside not knowing where she stood with Adrian and to find out that he cared the same for her, if not more, was almost too much. 

“I think I can find it in me to let you try,” she teased and Adrian let out a huff. “And I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have blown up at you.” 

“Nah, it was hot and I deserved it,” he said, finally a smile crossing his features as he took a step closer to her. 

“Well, either way I’m still sorry,” she whispered as Adrian’s smile grew, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, wiping away a tear. 

“Can I kiss you? Please can I kiss you?” he begged, and she let out a watery laugh. 

“Yes, Adrian. You can kiss me,” she said and he took no time to cup both her cheeks as he was quick to smash their lips together. As far as first kisses went, it was clunky, awkward, a little too much teeth from Adrian, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. 

All because it was real.

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He hears dresser drawers opening and closing, hears the ensuite shower running, hears the rustling afterward as you pull your pajamas on and adjust the covers.

He doesn’t deserve to sleep in bed beside you tonight, but he’s a selfish bastard. Once you fall silent, once you’re lying in bed alone, he creaks open the door carefully and waits. If you yell at him—if you tell him to stay away—then he will. He’ll sleep on the floor right here outside the door.

You don’t shout. You don’t even look up. He knows you’re not asleep yet, but you stay quiet anyway, and don’t protest or kick him the hell out when he slides beneath the covers next to you. He lets out a shaky exhale of relief. You’re mad, yes, and maybe you haven’t forgiven him, but—you still love him enough, trust him enough, to let him into your nest. He hasn’t fucked this up beyond repair.

But then you roll onto your side, away from him. Putting distance between your bodies, instead of curling into him like you usually do. And he knows he has a lot of apologizing to do for what he did tonight. The things he said.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and lays down next to you, facing in your direction, watching the rise and fall of your back as you breathe. He chokes down a desperate plea for forgiveness he doesn’t deserve right now, and then he flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling, hating himself, until sheer exhaustion lulls him to sleep.

You aren’t in bed when Adrian wakes up in the morning.

He’s moved in his sleep, subconsciously scooted closer to your side of the bed. His arm is draped over the empty space where you slept, hand clutching at the sheets, hugging your pillow to his chest instead of you. His heart twists violently, and he’s struck with the same terrible fear and guilt that he felt last night as the memory of your argument rushes back.

But—you’re still here. Still home, at least. Adrian sits up and strains to listen through the tiny crack of the open bedroom door. He can hear you padding around the kitchen, something sizzling in a frying pan, the clatter of plates as you take them out of the cabinets.

He gets up and walks toward the sound. You immediately look up at him when he enters the kitchen, and he stops in his tracks like a spooked animal. If you want him to, he’ll turn right around and walk back to the bedroom. Give you some space.

But then he realizes—there are two plates in front of you. And you’re loading them up with chocolate chip pancakes, his favorite. Something hopeful lights up inside him as you push a plate across the counter in his direction hesitantly. Your guard is still up, and it kills him. That you feel like you have to be on guard around him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, eyes welling with tears as he stares at your chocolate-chip-pancake olive branch. You’re offering him a grace right now that he doesn’t feel like he deserves. “I’m—I’m—I didn’t mean to—command you, or control you, like that, baby, I didn’t—I’m so sorry—” His voice cracks.

Your face softens a bit when you see how torn up about it he is.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” you say. “I know that, Alpha. But—” You bite your lip. “But you still did.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, a broken whisper. “For—for doing that, for yelling, for all of it. I don’t want to fight. Not with you. I’ll fight the rest of the world with my bare hands every day for the rest of my life, I’ll kill anyone I have to, as long as I get to come home to you at the end of the day, I never want you to doubt that, I—”

“I don’t doubt that you love me, Adrian. I have never doubted that.” You pause and let that sink in, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.

Adrian watches you talk with wide, wet eyes and a trembling lower lip. Because he knows that whatever you’re feeling, it’s not that simple. And he’s not emotionally intelligent enough to read your mind, not when it comes to things like this. So he stays quiet and waits.

“I do doubt sometimes that…that you trust me,” you finally say hesitantly. 

“What?”

“You fight for us all the time,” you say. “I love that you fight for what you think is right all the time. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You go out on patrols because you want to make our city, our home, safer. You go out on missions because you want to make the whole world safer. You are fighting, all the time, for me and our pack and the whole fucking universe. But you don’t trust me to fight with you.”

“That’s not—” Adrian protests, but you hold a hand up and his mouth snaps shut.

“I was so…” You pause and try to puzzle the words out. “I went on that mission with Emilia, and I felt more important, more useful, than I have in months. I felt good. And I came back and all I wanted was for you to be proud of me, but instead you were mad at me.”

You go quiet and look at Adrian expectantly, and he realizes it’s his turn to talk. He takes a moment to process what you said, turning his own response over in his mind before speaking.

“I was terrified yesterday,” he says. “When I got back to the office and I couldn’t find you, and then—when Economos said you were—I just kept turning over every possibility in my mind. Everything that could go wrong. You being hurt, and me not being there.”

“I live like that all the time,” you point out. “I watch you walk out into the field and pull risky stunts and get yourself shot constantly.”

“It’s different,” he starts. “I can heal. And you know where I am. I always, always tell you. The not knowing—” He swallows roughly. “That kills me.”

“That’s fair,” you allow. “I should have told you. I’m sorry. I knew that you would freak out, and it would distract you on your mission, and I didn’t want you to get hurt. So I chose not to tell you, and that made everything worse. I won’t do that again. I promise.”

“You won’t go on another mission?”

“That is not what I said,” you say. “I am not going to sit back. Not on this.”

“The rest of us have it handled,” Adrian insists.

“You aren’t listening to me,” you say sharply. “Adrian, I am not just…a prize you get for doing a good job. I’m not going to stay here shrouded in bubble wrap while the rest of you fight. If I am needed out in the field—and I am needed out in the field, at least until Fleury gets back on his feet—I will go. I want to, and I deserve to, fight for our future and the future of our pack just like you do.”

Adrian is quiet for a moment as he soaks in your words.

“You do deserve to fight,” he says. “But I also need you to tell me when you do. The not knowing…I can’t live like that.”

“You’re right,” you admit. “When I’m out on a mission—I won’t keep it from you. You’ll know where I am. I’ll text you updates, the same way that you text me while you’re gone. I’m sorry, baby. I was trying to keep you from worrying, and I just made everything worse. I promise I won’t do that again, okay?”

“Okay.” Adrian swallows. He’s already apologized, but—he needs to say it again. “I’m sorry, too. For freaking out. For yelling at you. For commanding you last night. I never wanted—I never wanted to be like my brother, and here I am being—”

You sigh. “You’re not like Gut, Adrian. You’re not. I know you’re not. You did something hurtful to me last night, and I just—lashed out. I said something hurtful because I knew it would hurt you. You’re a good man, and a good Alpha. I just need you to…loosen up, a little bit.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Are we okay?” you check, and Adrian hates how hesitant you sound.

“We’re okay,” he says softly. “We’re more than okay. I love you.”

Your hand comes up to his face, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tilt your chin up. He takes the invitation, leaning down to kiss you, deep and thorough, roughly hauling you up into his arms. Your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s hard, pressing insistently against your center as he speed-walks to the bedroom and shoves you down onto the bed.

Adrian strips off your clothes and touches every inch of skin he can reach, silently reassuring himself that you’re here with him, that you aren’t hurt. Then he rips his own clothes off and chucks them aside, wearing an expression you’ve never seen before. Some complex mix of desire and fury. But still, when he grabs at your hips and pulls you against him, he waits. You nod, but he shakes his head.

“Words, Omega,” he says, voice rough. “Because I’m not in the mood to play nice right now.”

The tip of his cock drags through your wetness, and you lift your hips until he notches at your entrance.

“Fuck me,” you say. “Do it. I can take it, I can—”

Adrian shoves inside you in a rough thrust, manhandling you in a way he never has before. You gasp at the sudden intrusion and clutch at the bedsheets, as he rails into you, deep, erratic thrusts that light your nerves on fire and have him grunting like an animal.

You touch him right back, but it’s not the soft touch he’s used to. It’s your nails dragging down his back, it’s you biting at his lips, it’s your fingers gripping him so hard that he thinks you might actually leave a bruise that lasts, for once. It feels like you’re still fighting him, here in your bed, even as your legs wrap around his waist and drag him in deeper.

“Never again,” he grunts, eyes watery and red. “You are never fucking doing that to me again, do you hear me?”

Every touch makes him feel desperate. He’s never loved anyone or anything the way he loves you, he thinks, as you find your release and your head tilts back. His eyes land on your neck, on your mating mark, and he can’t help himself. As he comes, his teeth sink in, break the skin all over again, because some Alpha part of him needs to remind you who you fucking belong to.

You’d made him a promise, today. That you wouldn’t go on a mission without telling him again. He’s just grateful you didn’t ask him to make any promises in return.

Because if you did, he’s not sure he’d be able to keep them. And he thinks you can tell.

Things between you and Adrian still feel raw when you return to work on Monday. Adrian is itching to reach for your hand to hold, but…you didn’t let him open the car door for you like he usually does. You just got out and started walking.

You might have apologized to each other, you might have tried to fuck it out of your systems, but the underlying tension that caused the whole blowup argument is still there, simmering, volatile, just beneath the surface of your every interaction.

It doesn’t help that everyone stares at the two of you as you walk in the door.

“Fleury,” you say, when you see him seated at his desk. “What the hell are you doing here? You got shot a couple days ago.”

“Last time you got shot, you and Adrian had a midnight rendezvous in the middle of his first rut,” Fleury retorts. “I think I’ll survive sitting at my desk for a bit.”

“Hmph,” you mutter. “Come on. My office. Let me look you over, at least.”

“Good thing he’s in a rolling chair, huh?” Ads says brightly, trying desperately to erase the tense atmosphere that followed you and Adrian like a stormy cloud. She starts pushing Fleury in the direction of the infirmary.

Adrian watches you walk away, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Chris walks up to him, a little wary. “Hey man. All good?”

“All good,” Adrian lies, entirely unconvincing.

“I’m sorry,” Emilia says, right behind Chris. “I knew it was a bad idea before we even left, but—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Adrian grits out. Emilia nods.

“Okay. I understand. But just so you know…she did a great job. Remembered all her training. I don’t know if she told you, but she’s the one who got the kill shot. Right to the head, from a dozen yards away.”

Adrian swallows. You hadn’t mentioned that. He’d known that you were practicing, putting in your time in the weapons room, sparring with Emilia and Rip. It settles him a little bit, hearing from Emilia, perhaps the most capable agent in the pack, that you’d done well. Maybe you would have told him yourself, if he hadn’t freaked out. He imagines it—you coming home, wide and smiling, excited to tell him about your killshot, wanting him to be proud of you. And he is proud. He’s proud, and he loves you, and he—he can’t live without you. That’s what it comes down to. 

He’s proud of you, but—how could he ever tell you that? If he did, you’d take it as an open invitation. To go on more missions. And that’s the last thing he wants.

He’ll go out and kill bad guys any day without blinking, but when it comes to you doing the same thing—it makes him afraid. He’s a fucking coward when it comes to you.

“Okay,” is all he says, when he realizes Chris and Emilia are waiting for him to respond. “Thank you. For looking after her.”

“Always,” Emilia nods. “That’s what Alphas do. We protect our pack members.”

“You know,” Chris starts, but he’s interrupted by the door to the conference room slamming open. John stumbles out, his laptop in one hand, an empty Redbull can in the other. There are dark circles under his eyes, and it looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

“Jesus, Economos, you look like shit,” Emilia says.

“I’ve managed to hack my way into every file that was on Dev’s computer,” John says, eyes wide and wild. “And I did it. I found an address.”

“An address?” Chris repeats. “You don’t mean—the address? Sullivan’s headquarters?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s exactly the address I mean,” John says.

Adrian’s heart starts thundering. Finally, he thinks desperately. Finally, I can do something about these assholes once and for all, and you’ll be safe, everyone will be safe.

You, Ads, and Fleury filter back into the room.

“What’s going on?” Ads asks, looking between everyone.

“John found an address!” Chris says.

“What? Where?” Ads cries.

“It’s taken me a while to get through the cloud drive. Leon is the owner of this file. It’s just shared with Dev. His personal document security is fucking shit. I can’t believe none of them have called him on this. It’s sloppy, it’s lazy—”

“Get to the point, John,” Emilia demands. “Where are they?”

“Sorry, did you spend several weeks glued to a computer? Let me have my fucking dramatic reveal, Harcourt! I deserve that much!”

“We don’t have time for drama right now! Spill!”

“Star City,” John says. “You know that asshole Green Lantern?”

“I met him once. Dresses like he’s Robin Hood at a Renaissance Faire. Fucking nerd,” Chris says.

“You’ve been to a Renaissance Faire?” Fleury raises an eyebrow.

“Adrian made me go!”

“Everybody fucking focus!”

The entire room falls quiet and stares at Adrian. Because he has never been the one to ask everyone to focus. In fact, he’s usually the one fucking around so much he gets yelled at. But now, he takes a deep, shaky breath, looks directly at John, and says, “Explain. Star City. Where in Star City? How big is the building? Do they live there, or just work there? What—”

A hand settles on his arm, squeezing softly. Adrian stops and looks at you. His heart feels like it’s climbing up his throat just so he can puke it out onto the floor, but the churning inside him stops when your hand trails down his arm to entwine your fingers. It’s the first time you’ve touched him like this, soft and gentle, since you argued.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. “We have time. We can make a plan. When Sasha and Rip get back from their mission, we can all go. Together.”

For the first time ever, the word grates on his nerves. Together.

The plan is simple. 

“We’ll do some quick recon,” Ads says. “We send out two people to observe for a day. Make note of their routines, the weak points in their security. And then we go back with the entire team and ambush them, the same way they fucking ambushed us.”

You’re listening carefully, eyes bright and glittering. Adrian knows exactly what has you so enraptured. The entire team, Chris says.

Adrian grinds his teeth. There’s no way he can talk you into sitting this one out.

“Who are we sending?” John asks. “For the recon?”

“Me and Chris,” Emilia says.

“Recon work is not my speciality,” Chris frowns. “Judomaster would be the best choice. We can just wait for him and Bordeaux to get back in three days, and he can go with you.”

Emilia tries not to show it, but she’s pissy. Adrian would snort if he was in the mood to be amused right now. She’s feeling just as impatient as he is, apparently.

But surprisingly, she doesn’t fight Chris on it.

“Fine,” she says. She glances around the room at everyone. Her eyes meet Adrian’s, and his brow furrows. “We’ll wait.”

“No,” Adrian says suddenly. He stares daggers at Chris. “Aren’t we supposed to protect the pack? You told me—that night when I wanted to kill my fucking douchebag brother. You told me to funnel my energy toward this instead. To protect us from the big threats. The big threat is here, and we finally know where we have to go to take care of it. We should not be waiting. Even if all we do is eliminate Leon Sullivan—we’ll leave the rest of his team scrambling, without a leader.”

“They’re not a pack, like we are,” Chris says. “This isn’t a cut-the-head-off-the-monster situation. They don’t need to run off and find another Alpha and reorganize. They’re all lone wolves. The only option is to take them out all at once, or keep picking them off like we have been.”

Adrian stews silently, but doesn’t argue further.

“For now, we can start prepping. Get together the weapons and ammo we’ll need,” Chris continues. “We’ll make sure we’re twice as armed as we usually are, just in case. We can check on our weapons and ammo stock? Put in a rush order on anything that’s damaged, or that we’re running low on?”

“Good idea,” you say.

“I’ll try to see if I can find a floor plan of the building,” John says. “It looks from the outside like a warehouse. If it was ever listed on a real estate site, we can get a good idea of what it looks like on the inside, too.”

“Then everyone can head home and get some rest,” Ads says. “It’s been a long couple of weeks. I want everyone on top of their game before we head out to Star City. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

Adrian looks at you. You’re already watching him.

“We can do this,” you assure him with a smile. 

“I know we can,” he says. He tries to smile back. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Everyone heads their separate ways after the meeting. You head off to the infirmary to pack med kits for everyone. Emilia, Ads, and John work on sketching out a layout of the building. Chris starts heading to the weapons room, and Adrian, on autopilot, just follows his best friend, his mind reeling.

He keeps turning the address over in his mind. The names and faces of the enemy.

He keeps thinking of the way Emilia looked at him. We’ll wait, she’d said.

Adrian doesn’t want to wait. He wants to go now.

Who’s going to stop him?

He watches Chris start boxing up weapons to bring to the van, and he starts doing the same. As he works, he tucks a few extra guns and grenades into his own bag, right next to his Vigilante suit.

“You’re quiet,” Chris comments. Adrian just hums noncommittally. “Adrian. Look at me.”

Adrian glances up and meets his best friend’s eyes.

“I don’t know what fucked-up shit is going on inside your head right now,” Chris says. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and your Omega, or what. But whatever rash, dangerous shit you’re thinking about doing, drop it. Now. We have a plan. Stick to the plan.”

“I will,” Adrian says. The words taste bitter.

In the months since he’s become an Alpha, Adrian has always kept his initial promise to Chris and Emilia. Never disobeyed his pack leaders. He doesn’t want to be pack Alpha, he just wants to be your Alpha. 

But right now—he doesn’t want to fucking listen to Chris’s advice or orders from the others. He can’t. There’s something inside him that won’t let him stand by right now. He can’t explain it, but he needs to act.

When you both go home that night, you can feel the anxious tension radiating from him as he sits stiffly in the driver’s seat of the Vigilante-mobile, as he robotically eats his dinner without really tasting anything, as he stares mindlessly at the television and doesn’t absorb a single bit of information.

“Why don’t we just go to bed?” you suggest, when you see him zoning out for the tenth time in half an hour. Adrian just silently nods, still pensive, still thinking.

He watches you go through the motions of your nighttime routine with escalating anxiety. He lets you shave his face, as has become your routine, a soft little shared moment that he always treasures. He feels your soft hands on his face, and your lips on his cheek when you kiss him, and he closes his eyes and makes his decision.

As you shuffle into bed, he stands on his side and just watches you get comfortable. You look up at him, confused.

“Come on,” you say, patting the empty space beside you. It’s an inviting sight. One that is so fucking hard for him to resist, but—

“I don’t think I can sleep,” he says. “I think—maybe I’ll go on patrol. Burn off some energy. Is that okay?”

Your face softens into a smile. A concerned smile, with your brow furrowing just a little between your eyes, but a smile nonetheless, which makes his heart clench. “Of course that’s okay, Ade. If that will make you feel better, of course.”

“I think it will.”

“Do you want me to come?” you ask.

“No, that’s—no,” he says, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, I don’t want to be the reason you’re up late. You’ve been so tired. I saw you yawn like a billion times today.”

You’ve been exhausted, it’s true. Trying to take care of everyone, manage everyone’s emotions. You chew on the inside of your cheek worriedly. You usually like being awake for Adrian when he gets home, to nurse any wounds from his patrols, no matter how insignificant. But he sees the moment you give in.

“Okay,” you say, and Adrian feels a sick, guilty sense of relief wash over him. “You promise you’ll wake me when you get back? Let me look you over?”

You don’t suspect a thing, and that makes him feel a thousand times worse. You trust him so fucking much, and he doesn’t deserve it. Because he’s lying to your face right now. He wants to throw up. But he swallows it down, all those terrible feelings, all the guilt and the lies, and says—

“I will wake you when I get back.”

You watch him change into the Vigilante suit, and he gives you one last wobbly smile before he walks out the door. Then he bends down to kiss you, long and hard and deep. 

“I love you, Omega. So fucking much.”

“I love you too, Alpha,” you whisper. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Adrian can’t bring himself to say anything in return.

Then goes on a quick patrol. Kills a graffiti artist. It makes him feel better. A little less like he’s lying to you, at least, because he did go on patrol.

He’s just not coming home afterwards.

Adrian tag list: @justalotoffanfiction @danversxwasabi @clowninavan @adoresami @a-young-g0d @bastardstevie @am-3-thyst @xoxocamis @morguegrl89 @somethin-sparklyy @secretjesterr @seeingdubs @lovenerdywhitemen2 @jeshomie @aerionshipthrust @deamlucem @tlfg-adrianchase @brianna-merlim @amart-e @countvonklit @pieolsen @gingerjane15 @dosyrosyposy @rentaldarling @vigilcourt @hot-bean-juice @sepaaaaa @residentsuperhero