Work Text:
The home was too quiet. I knew Samuel’s car was out front, he had to be inside. He wasn’t the type, unless there was some insanely pressing matter, to hop Adam’s fence to tend to someone. Samuel would have driven himself like he always did.
It was too small to be this eerie. There was nowhere other than Samuel’s own bedroom to even hide, unless you counted the bathroom and I didn’t usually. Maybe I’d count it if the water was at least running to indicate he was in the shower.
If you were going to cry, showers tended to be a better place than most. Though, a friend of mine in college had a short stint in a restaurant and swore the walk-in freezer was the best place.
Maybe, I thought to myself, he was asleep. That would have been more in-character after a month of nights, except that he’d been home all day to my knowledge. I’d only just gotten back from dinner so it didn’t really make sense, surely he’d slept enough. And then there was the fact that I could typically hear him when he slept. Samuel had been restless more recently.
Since I picked Adam. My mind supplied unhelpfully. Maybe this was him normally and I’d just forgotten.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
Still, there was an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach and against maybe all sense of better judgement, I dropped my jacket on the couch with my wallet and headed to knock on his door.
A bed creaked.
“Do I need to report a dead body in my home?” My joke fell flat and there wasn’t a response, but the sheets rustled. “Samuel?”
The whine wasn’t good. I tried the knob, but the door was locked. I knocked again, maybe a little anxious now.
“Open the door.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been bossing him around, but, “It’s my house, Sam. Open the door.”
I nearly fell forward into him with the momentum because the door swung too fast. I didn’t realize he’d even come closer, he was so silent. From the whine, he shouldn’t have even had hands to open the door with.
If I’d nearly fallen forward with the momentum of the door swinging and the pressure of my leaning against it, I certainly fell backwards when Samuel collapsed into me. He was bigger, certainly, and denser. I was fit and active but it wasn’t possible for me to lift a werewolf, certainly not one his size.
“Bad day.” It wasn’t a question on my part. “Have you eaten?”
He’d awkwardly maneuvered us as we fell so that I was flat on my bottom with my back pressed against the wall and Samuel—who felt like he was a full foot taller than me standing, even though I knew he wasn’t—had curled into me in a manner than should have been physically impossible if you had a skeletal system. It was as if he’d folded in half to press his forehead to my collarbone directly under my chin.
And he shook his head, bumping into my chin and uncomfortably tickling the rest of my face with his hair.
“You want my leftovers? They’re on the couch.”
“You smell like Adam again.” He commented and I was pretty positive mentioning the light make-out session in the aforementioned Adam’s car might have ruined all chances I had at convincing Samuel to do something other than wallow.
Instead I awkwardly flattened some of his hair with my hand and tucked my chin over it to avoid the nuisance of it getting in my nose and scratching at me and stayed silent.
“Toddler. Not even two years old. Took them almost two full weeks to come to any doctors.”
Oof.
I couldn’t offer anything so I just quietly let him continue, willing my heart to slow its rapid pounding.
“Two weeks. Chicken pox should only last maybe a week in a healthy two year old.” He muttered. “But she’s not healthy. She has no immune system. She’s home schooled, she’s exposed to almost nothing.”
“Chicken pox are pretty harmless though, right?” I tried to lighten the mood. “They had pox parties back in the day.”
Samuel snorted and his hands, which had been resting on my thighs (also uncomfortable, albeit for a different reason) gripped tighter. I tried not to hiss, but I’d tensed and my heart sped up again in the bad way. My chest suddenly felt like it was closing in on itself and I heard him curse—something Samuel rarely did.
“Shit. Sorry, Mercy.” Samuel pushed himself off me and leaned into the doorframe one he was those few feet away, though our legs remained fairly tangled. “Breathe.”
I half-laughed, which came out more like a bit of a panicked wheeze. I’d love to breathe if I could, it would solve a lot of the problems.
“I’m ok.” Sometimes these things passed, especially now that Adam had made me pack. I was pretty sure they were going to start secretly medicating me just so I wasn’t bothering them at all hours, but I also tried not to feel too guilty.
My phone was ringing, probably Adam.
“Answer it.” Samuel muttered. “He’ll be worried.”
Was that a hint of bitterness in his lightened tone? I looked at him as the phone continued to ring but Samuel had smiled.
“He’s just going to come over the house, Mercy.”
“And what do I say? ‘Hey, Adam, sorry. Sam is having a bad day and I thought he was going to…’” My heart thudded again and my mouth went dry.
Maybe it hasn’t really passed yet.
For his part, he didn’t seem offended, though the corner of his smile did twitch and the sadness in his eyes that hadn’t left seem to grow darker. He came to standing too fast to be human and walked to the couch to fish my phone out of the pocket of my jacket.
“It’s me.” He said as he answered it and before it sounded like Adam could get anything out. “But Mercy wants to see how fast you can get here, so she wasn’t going to answer.”
I would normally protest, but focusing on not passing out was a bigger concern. Passing out meant not getting to know what had happened that Samuel was so upset.
“Is she alright?” Adam asked.
Samuel paused and looked at me.
“No.” He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply which was definitely something I’d do and would never expect Samuel of all people to do—least of all to Adam, the local alpha who was letting him stay here at all. I watched, spots maybe interrupting some of my vision, as he tossed the phone back onto the couch.
“Tell me.”
“Adam will be here for you. You should go with him.” I winced at the words and he softened, letting his shoulders drop as he himself sat back on the ground, this time further away. “I’m sorry. I’m not in a good mood. Your panicking isn’t helping. Would water help you steady your breathing in the meantime?”
Nothing really helped when I was like this.
“Can you name five things you can see?” He sighed.
Something in my face must have given me away because Samuel snorted.
“Just five things, Mercy.”
“You,” I drew a very shaky breath best I could. “Your bed. The couch.” Another breath as I blinked away the spots. “The chip in the paint you whine about. Your window.”
“Four things you can touch.” I thought he might have snuck a little closer when I wasn’t looking.
My fingers scraped the floor and I close my eyes. This was so stupid.
“Sure. The floor can be one, Mercy.” He agreed and he sounded closer even still. “Three more. Focus.”
“Wall.” I said. “My clothes.” Which were feeling incredibly scratchy to my skin and the neckline being a scoop didn’t make me feel any more as if I wasn’t being choked out by it. “The air?”
“Cheating.” He rumbled fondly. “But sure. Three things you can hear?”
Ugh.
“Blood.” Rushing in my ears and making me dizzy. “Your voice.”
I strained because I wanted to hear Adam’s car. He should have already been turning onto the road if he’d gone home when he dropped me off, but he wasn’t. It made my heart sink into the pit of my stomach.
“You’re breathing funny.” I realized, but didn’t open my eyes because I thought I’d throw up if I got the little black spots again. “Are you going to Change?”
He didn’t answer.
“Two things you can smell, Mercy.”
My own fear, but I wasn’t going to say that aloud.
“Wolf.” That wasn’t good. Werewolves always smelled like werewolves, but Samuel smelled dangerous on a whole other level. Cold leather. Montana’s snow. “Home.”
“Sam,” I opened my eyes, dizziness be damned.
He was closer than he had been, but was still too far away to be immediately problematic, though I didn’t particularly like the way he was eying me. His eyes were too dark and too light at the same time, there was a reason he smelled like wolf.
“Something you can taste.” The subtle lilt-like musicality that his timbre sometimes took on when he was too far gone was there.
Adam. Still on my lips from the kissing in his car like teenagers. It tasted like the caramel and chocolate from our dessert, like safety. Like home in a way that Samuel didn’t smell like.
I didn’t answer. It seemed in the better interest. If he noticed, or if he knew why, Sam didn’t say.
“The baby wasn’t vaccinated.” I told him and he stiffened. “You’re upset because it was entirely preventable.”
He had lost children to illnesses that were probably treatable or preventable (if not dead entirely) today. I didn’t know the finer details, but I knew that much.
“Has pneumonia now. It’s a complication.” The lilt-like quality was gone, thankfully. I didn’t need Adam seeing him like that. “And it’s life-threatening in a child that young. And they had the nerve to sit there and cry about it as if it wasn’t their fault to begin with. The vaccine exists for a reason. It’s serious. The only reasons not to are medical, if they’re allergic to something in it. But this kid could catch measles tomorrow because mom thinks pharmaceuticals are the problem.”
There was a familiar car now, turning onto the road. I internally sighed in relief. Samuel heard it too.
“You should go with him tonight.”
“And leave you alone?” I didn’t think, selfishly, that that was my problem. I think the new nervousness was far more related to spending the night in Adam’s home. Samuel ignored me and nodded to the door. “Sam, you need someone here.”
In addition to generally being touchy-feely, dominant werewolves liked having pack because it gave them people to protect. Samuel was almost as dominant as they came, more-so than Adam who was the alpha in this territory. Samuel could have any pack he wanted, if he really wanted, but he didn’t. He claimed his patients were enough, gave him enough to care for.
Maybe they were.
But they weren’t his, not truly, and I thought maybe that was why he so desperately wanted the picket fence and the wife and babies. Someone to call his and mean it, a family that was actually his.
I knew the feeling. Especially once upon a time when I would have done anything for him, would have left the only home I’d known in the middle of the night to marry him.
“Would you remember to lock your door, Mercy?” Adam scolded as he entered. I watched as he carefully locked it to make a point of doing so. “See? Easy.”
“Then you can’t barge in on a private conversation.” I wasn’t funny to anyone this evening, apparently.
The silence somehow echoed. Samuel still hadn’t turned his attention from me and I was very aware that what I considered to be “not close” was probably closer than Adam would have liked to see. Sam couldn’t see Adam’s expression, not from the way he was sitting unless he had eyes on the back of his head.
Maybe he did, Bran was weird like that and Samuel was his son.
Adam might have been unreadable to a stranger, his expression was carefully neutral because he wasn’t happy. He was putting together the scene in his head and coming to the same conclusions I had.
Samuel’s behaviour was beginning to look questionable, as if he might be slipping.
I’ll have to keep them apart. Far apart, as distant as possible. Then Adam couldn’t set Samuel off and he could have some plausible deniability if it came down to it.
I swallowed, pushing the thought to the back of my mind.
“Thanks for the leftovers, Mercy.” Samuel, not one to typically miss a beat, didn’t really miss this one either. He leaned over, effectively closing the distance between us, kissed my forehead, and stood up. “I’ll eat after I shower.”
He would have already showered this morning when he got back, but I said nothing. Samuel had politely pretended for me, on more than one occasion, that I was fine when I probably wasn’t.
I could pretend for him.
Adam thankfully did nothing to make the situation worse, though it was obvious he was trying to stay firmly in place when Samuel had kissed me. Forehead or no, it was dangerous territory.
“Are you ok?” Adam asked, though I knew he would rather ask “what happened?” Maybe he wanted some plausible deniability, too.
I heard the shower turn on. Samuel had gone straight into the bathroom without anything, which meant I’d rather not be here when he came out. If just my panic was setting him off, I’d rather not be here at all.
“I’m fine.” And somehow it wasn’t a lie. I was, physically speaking, fine. Maybe I’d bruise a little. “He had a patient whose parents chose not to vaccinate. They’re very sick.”
He’s been moping about it all day in his room.
“Those days are hard.” Adam agreed, gaze falling to the bathroom door. “Though I didn’t appreciate the briefness of the phone call.”
Samuel could still hear us, which wasn’t terribly surprising. Adam had said it intentionally on the louder side. There was a light huff of amusement from the bathroom that I just barely caught.
“My anxiety set him off, too.” I admitted. “He’d rather I be out of his wallowing space until I calm down.”
It was Adam’s turn to snort. “Fair enough.”