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Luke’s so focused on not looking like he’s limping that at first, he doesn’t realize Alex has stopped.
“Hey.” Luke looks up and then turns around—Alex is a few feet back, expression all twisted up and constipated like it likes to get. “Are you okay?”
Luke’s defensiveness growls inside him like a wolf. He fights to keep his voice steady. “Yes. Can we just keep going? I wanna make sure we get back before sundown.”
Alex frowns, unconvinced, but then glances at the darkening sky and nods, takes off again, his long legs giving him the lead in no time. Luke blows out a breath and follows, trying to ignore the stab of pain that shoots up his right leg with every step. Of all the days for his knee to act up, he thinks bitterly to himself.
“Hurry up,” Alex calls over his shoulder. “I see the path.”
Luke growls low in this throat, but obediently picks up the pace. If only he could handle the shift right now, he’d be the one barking at Alex to hurry up. But they’re trying to keep a low profile, and even just the thought of shifting makes him want to—
“Fuck!” Luke cries, hitting the ground as his knee finally gives out on him.
“Shit, Luke!” Alex is on him in a second, expertly lifting him up under his arms so he’s not all twisted. He says more—cursing him out, Luke is certain—but Luke can’t hear him over the roar of pain washing over him. He thinks he might black out for a second or two. When his vision clears, he’s propped up somewhere, back to a tree, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. It looks swollen, or maybe that’s just Luke’s imagination. And Alex is crouched in front of him, worried and pissed. “You idiot. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“I’m not,” Luke manages through gritted teeth, trying to shift his position and regretting it instantly. “I mean, it’s an old injury, my knee just—”
“Gets stiff sometimes,” Alex fills in with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “and sometimes it hurts, so why didn’t you tell me it hurt?”
Luke tries to glare at him, but his knee is throbbing with white-hot pain and the glare sort of softens into a pout without his permission. “You wanted to go hiking,” he says, which seemed like a good excuse an hour ago but now sounds ridiculously stupid and childish.
Alex lets out the deepest sigh, ducking his head toward the forest floor below them. He sucks in a breath, holds it, lets it out again, and then looks back up at Luke, and all the anger has flooded from his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve figured out how far we’d be walking before we left, and I should’ve made sure you were up for that kinda trip. But you could’ve stayed back at the camp if you knew a hike was gonna aggravate it. Was it bothering you before we left?”
“A little,” Luke admits, face flushed hot with shame. “Not bad, just… it’s cold out here, and I’m not… used to sleeping on the ground anymore, and I didn’t wanna Bobby or Willie to go with you, but I wasn’t just gonna let you go out on your own so—”
“Luke,” Alex interrupts, sounding annoyed but more gentle than he usually lets himself get. “I’m not in your pack, you know. You don’t have to… protect me.”
Luke swallows. “Yes, I do.”
They make eye contact, and for a long time, Luke feels like nothing exists except him and Alex—not the woods around them, or their friends back at the campsite half a mile away. Not the setting sun, or the pain in his knee, or the years of misery they both had to go through to get here. Just Luke, sitting somewhere safe, and Alex looking at him.
And then Alex says, “Come on,” and pushes himself to his feet. “This is gonna suck, but just… don’t make me drop you.”
Without ceremony, Alex bends over and slides one arm behind Luke’s back and the other under his knees. Luke wraps his arms around Alex’s neck and bites down hard on his lip so he won’t scream when Alex lifts him, but honestly, the pain isn’t as bad as he expects it to be.
And honestly, being carried back to the campsite—Alex’s musky scent in his nose and his strong arms wrapped around him—is pretty nice.