Fated [BlueAmbient & crypticpieces]

“Don’t.” The warning was snapped, low and sharp at the apology and show of sympathy. “It was just a thing that happened,” he continued flatly, inflection stripped out of his voice. It taught him a very clear lesson, which was all he was willing to take from the memory. “And I lived.” The dismissive remark was still forced, but he could always blame the distraction of dealing with an unfamiliar shower and trying to scrub the woods off of his skin. Standing under the water that he’d made hotter than necessary could turn the pale of his skin the slightest pink, but it was worth it considering breakfast had been slightly derailed and traces of that day with the demon wanted to lurk around.

If he wasn’t committed to wallowing, it meant getting the shampoo out of his hair, which he did as quickly as he could manage. He turned the water off, pushed his hair back with the added benefit of wringing water from it, and stepped out to retrieve a towel. He had looked once at Brennan, but went back to ignoring the wolf’s physical presence. Unlike the wolves who seemed to have no qualms about nudity, most humans weren’t that way, especially if they were standing around with the supposed enemy, which accounted for half of the reason he wouldn’t acknowledge Brennan while he dried himself. “What happened to that other pack? Did they just…?” He imagined they’d taken up the space previously occupied by Brennan’s pack, but the fighting between werewolves never occurred to him as useful information until now.
 
Brennan's eyes don't leave Liam's body even as the shorter man tells him not to feel sorry for him. They don't leave as Liam shuts off the water and starts drying off. "Pack wars happen more often than I'd like to admit. Usually it's over territory, sometimes it's over expansion. Either way, the winning pack will chase off the losing pack, or absorb the remaining survivors into their numbers." Brennan pauses, eyes drifting downward. "I imagine the beta of that pack took over as alpha and just expanded territory borders."

After a moment of silence, it occurs to Brennan that they hadn't located clean clothes for Liam. Having just showered, it would defeat the purpose if he just put his dirty clothing back on. Brennan's shirt, however, is pretty much clean, so he pulls it off and hands it to Liam. "Just until we get upstairs, and I can find you something else." Because of their height difference, the shirt would successfully hang to Liam's mid thigh.
 
Liam had been considering the dynamics of opposing packs until he noticed the offered shirt. He paused in scrubbing the towel over his hair to try to get most of the water out of it and stared at the shirt. “You want me to walk through your pack house in just your shirt when they already think I’m your mate?” His gaze finally turned on Brennan as though the wolf had announced he’d secretly been a vampire the whole time.

He considered insisting on his own clothes, but they did need to be washed after he’d been jumped on and dragged. Liam’s shoulders dropped, resigned. “Sure. I already smell like you,” using someone else’s shampoo tended to do that, “and they’re going to think whatever they want anyway.” He took the shirt, pulling it on, vaguely aware that it did smell like Brennan underneath the laundry soap scent, which wasn’t something he wanted to recognize. “I guess, this once, I’m glad you’re unreasonably tall.”

“But I do look like a girl at a slumber party.” He shook his head, disapproving but not as annoyed as he could have been, as he put the bottles of what he had borrowed back into their proper place. Liam gathered his clothes, including the towel, and his boots. “The sooner these are clean, the happier I’ll be.”
 
Brennan stifles a laugh at Liam's comment, hesitation, then resignation. His eyes follow the movement of Liam's body as he pulls the oversized sleeveless shirt on. "You are my mate. But what they thinl doesmt matter." He bites his lower lip, grinning at the sight.

"Cute." Brennan reaches out to brush his fingers against Liam's arm, then plucks the towel from his grasp. He walks to the counter of sinks, opening one of the cupboards. Beneath is a basket, just as is in every cupboard, waiting to receive used towels. He deposits the towel, then turns back to Liam. "I'll take you back to the bedroom, then I'll go find you something more your size. I can't promise it'll be in your style, though."
 
If he hadn’t had his arms full of clothes, Liam would have swatted Brennan away, but since he wasn’t capable, he simply let the touch happen. “Just because I didn’t poison your breakfast this time doesn’t mean that I won’t.” The threat felt more obligatory than promissory. He was fairly certain that despite his commitment to his job, Brennan was relatively safe from him. The idea irritated him, and it had been irritating him since he got to the house.

Liam shrugged; he wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky. “As long as it’s not this,” he shifted vaguely at the borrowed shirt, “I can probably manage. Come on,” he said, heading toward the door, “before I have to deal with any more of you.” He may have lamented that the other wolves thought of him as Brennan’s mate, but they didn’t need to see this fine spectacle, in which he was convinced most of his credibility as any sort of threat would be ruined and he'd be relegated to angry kitten status.
 
Despite Liam's hopes, they run into Sam and his mate Chelsea at the top of the stairs. Chelsea seems to light up at the prospect of there being a human in the house, immediately stepping forward and asking questions about what life among humans is like. Sam laughs and pulls her back, hushing her. "Chelsea, you're going to overwhelm him." Neither seem to even notice that Brennan is shirtless, and Liam is wearing nothing but Brennan's shirt.

Brennan grins, standing perhaps too close on the stairs behind Liam. "Good morning to you two, as well. This is actually perfect timing. Sam, do you think you could find Liam some clean clothing in close to his size? Maybe one of the teens has something he can borrow." Sam agrees, then kisses Chelsea on the cheek before turning back down the hall. Chelsea bites her lower lip, still grinning, but slips down the stairs around Brennan and Liam.
 
Being accosted on the stairs wasn’t what he was hoping for, and he certainly wasn’t prepared for questions about human life. He tolerated the whole thing because he had to, clutching his clothes tighter to him and looking particularly irritated with the general pleasantness of the pair. Liam was so distracted, he couldn’t be bothered with Brennan’s lack of personal space, and would have stepped right back into him had they been on level ground.

The moment Chelsea descended the steps, Liam sharply turned his focus on Brennan, eyes narrowed as though he intended to shove the wolf backward for subjecting the hunter to this whole situation. In the name of civility and possibly getting clothes, he inhaled and proceeded up the steps without commenting. Once inside the room, he deposited his clothes with everything he’d left near the desk. “This whole being here is supposed to make me sympathetic to you and the rest of them, isn’t it?” Well, he was short on civility. “I might be if you weren’t all so annoyingly chipper. Bring back that angry one. At least she made sense.”
 
Brennan can't help the continued grin at seeing Liam's expression, following him back to the bedroom. He leaves the door open, so Sam can bring clothing in when he gets there. "Not everyone is so happy, Liam. Chelsea finds humans and their complexities fascinating because she grew up in an old-fashioned pack, the kind that live secluded from society. Sam is just kind in general."

Brennan comes up behind Liam, his hand brushing the shorter man's arm again. "You know, you really should give us a chance. I get that you're a hunter, but have you ever thought maybe the views of hunters haven't changed for centuries? A lot of the information hunters have is likely over a hundred years old, by now."
 
Liam hesitated a moment at the touch, then shrugged it off before he turned. “Not everything that hasn’t changed in centuries is wrong. Hunters began for a specific purpose, and it would be naive to think that they’re not necessary now. But that’s not what you’re asking for is it? What you’re asking,” Liam started as he moved toward the window, thinking clearer if he wasn’t standing right next to the werewolf, “is that we be trusting. Where does that lead us? How many humans die because the nice werewolf turns on them or the doppelganger seems friendly until it isn’t?”

“Better yet, what happens when we say ‘yeah, sure, stay here,’ and something else—another pack—comes for you? Then it’s not just your problem. It’s our problem, and that town full of oblivious people wouldn’t survive. Supernatural things have decimated communities. People are stupid and do stupid things, but they don’t deserve to die because something told them that they were safe.” Liam exhaled and rubbed at one eye before he turned to peer out the window, leaning a shoulder against the frame. “I didn’t grow up thinking ‘it’d be fun to disappoint my parents and kill stuff for a living.’”
 
Brennan scowls, frustrated that Liam isn't seeing his meaning. How else can he explain? When Liam walks away, Brennan turns and leans his rear against the edge of the desk, listening. Liam makes a fair point, but there's always more than just the 'kill them all' solution.

"Liam, you're not listening with intent to understand. I'm not saying every pack is friendly, or every monster is friendly. What I'm saying is that not every one isn't. And just because we've run from other packs doesn't mean we won't stand and fight if the town is threatened. We tried to protect our past home. That town wasn't threatened, only us, and we lost, so we left." Brennan pauses, rubbing his face with his hands. Tension is clear across his shoulders. "And if something were to come after us again, or after the town, think how much easier it would be for the hunters to eliminate them if there was a pack of allied wolves on their side. Protection for the town, and for the hunters. Think how much safer your friends would be."
 
He had crossed his arms against his chest, glaring at the morning outside, like it had somehow been offensive. Liam’s fingers pressed down against his arms. An immediate retort sat in his mouth, but he refused to let it out. Instead, he waited several seconds, counting while he searched for a rational response that wasn’t a product of frustration. “I understand what you’re saying,” he started, the strain in his voice likely revealing the struggle at restraint. When he looked back at Brennan, his head tilted faintly, reading the signs of stress.

“In fantasy land, where I’m your mate,” which sounded weird in his mouth even hypothetically, “and I agree with you,” he paused to let the fact that it was just an imagined scenario sink in, “what do you want me to tell the hunters? ‘Trust them. They’re the good kind. You may have lost family or friends to something supernatural, might have scars or disabilities because of the supernatural, but you’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’ Famous last words,” he finished flatly.
 
Brennan's expression becomes briefly distressed when Liam calls his being Brennan's mate a fantasy. But the tension in his shoulders at their current conversation is translating down to the white-knuckle grip his hands currently hold, where they rest on the desk's edge, one at the corner. "Of course not. Minds can't be changed overnight. I just need your help convincing them to give us a chance."

Brennan's voice is rising with his frustration. "Just help me get them to put off this vendetta. Let us show them that we mean no harm. I'm just trying to protect my family, because it's all I have left!" There's a crack as his right hand actually breaks off the corner of the desk.
 
The inhale made it seem like Liam was getting ready to retaliate and hurt, but whatever he was going to say was derailed by the noise. The sound pulled Liam’s attention, and for a moment, surprise registered in his eyes as they widened a fraction, but the look disappeared just as fast. In its place was something sharp and hard, an easily constructed wall. “Careful,” he warned, with a lightness that seemed far too satisfied, like the wolf was close to proving why Liam shouldn’t help him.

It was unfair to Brennan, of course, to target a frustrated reaction as a sign of dangerous aggression, but that was sort of the point. Liam wanted to push, fair or not. It was all he had just then. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.” His gaze returned to the window, which ended the conversation for Liam. He still held tightly to his arms and he was too aware of Brennan to really mind what was happening beyond the room.

At the edges of the property, certainly not on the property itself, several hunters, including Suri, had appeared to walk the perimeter. They didn’t speak to each other but in whistles, and they didn’t try their luck by overstepping the property line. It was the small woman that Liam had been with at the bar who kept looking inward, expecting the stolen hunter to appear at any moment. If he didn’t, they would stay, alternating shifts, for the duration of his imprisonment.
 
Brennan bares his teeth, releasing a strained noise of frustration. Then there's the scent of blood; the broken edge had cut into his palm. But as soon as Liam turns away, so does Brennan, dropping the piece of desk and leaving the room. He nearly runs into Sam on the way out.

Sam looks between Brennan's retreating back and Liam standing at the window in confusion, but doesn't comment on it. He'd heard the desk break, and Liam's last words, as he'd come up to the door. "You know, you could at least try to be understanding. Imagine it this way. What if the world were backward, and your team were the monsters everyone was trying to kill. Would you do everything in your power to protect your friends, short of killing someone else?"

Sam steps into the room, moving to place three sets of clothing kn the end of the bed. "And on the more personal level, try to think how Brennan must feel. Imagine finding someone, or having someone, you love, and never being able to be with them. Imagine the internal pain and suffering that can cause." Sam pauses. "Just think about." Then he steps out of the room and closes the door. No footsteps lead away, meaning he has set up guard outside the bedroom.
 
At the sound of Sam, Liam’s chin tilted up and he clenched his teeth. Slowly his eyes closed, and he minded his breathing, keeping it steady and slow. When the door closed, his eyes opened and glanced over at the door, resisting the roll of his eyes at knowing that Sam hadn’t actually left, before casting a quick look to the desk that had now seen better days. With some internal monologue, he waved out a hand and silently queried the ceiling about what had just happened. When no response was forthcoming, he returned to the business of getting dressed in yet another set of clothes that didn’t belong to him.

If nothing else, he wasn’t drowning and didn’t look like he was planning a sleepover in the shirt and jeans, which was fine. Brennan’s shirt was folded and set with the extra clothes on the dress, and then Liam ventured over to get a better look at the desk. He ran his finger against the broken place, mindful of splinters. This wasn’t the week he was supposed to have. In fact, none of this factored into his life at all. Once again, he glanced at the door before he returned to the bookcase.

Instead of finding something to read, he pulled the picture down of the man who looked very much like Brennan. He had suspected it was Brennan’s father, but there was no asking, no getting that involved. Only the recollection of the story from earlier made him put the picture back. Liam pulled a book from the shelf, glanced once more out the window as though someone might be coming to rescue him when he knew they weren’t, and settled on the bed to pretend like he could be invested in a book at a time like this.
 
Brennan had left the Pack House. His frustrations meant his inner wolf was raging, torn between wanting to attack something to protect his pack, and wanting to protect his newfound mate. At the same time, his chest aches more with every rejection Liam throws at him. But he only has one week. He needs to focus on earning Liam's trust. For now though, he needs to calm down.

Brennan spends most of the day out of the house. The guard outside the door changes every couple of hours. Around midday, a young blond man pokes his head in the door to see if Liam needs the bathroom or wants food, escorting him to the bathroom or kitchen respectively. Early afternoon, Sam and Brennan take a large group of youths, ages ranging from ten to eighteen, onto the front lawn to run combat drills in human form. They can be seen from Brennan's bedroom window, and there's plenty of laughing and generally normal sort of camaraderie.

It's early evening by the time Brennan returns to the bedroom. He looks far more relaxed, and when he opens the door, the smells of good cooking enter the room from the hall. "Dinner is almost ready. Are you hungry?" Brennan doesn't mention anything about their earlier conversation, and he pointedly refuses looking at the desk. He doesn't hide the fact that there's now a pink line across his palm, like a freshly healed scar. Though, even that would be gone by morning.
 
The day passed painfully slowly. Aside from the lunchtime excursion out of the room and pausing his sort-of reading to see what was happening outside, Liam hadn’t deviated from trying to get through the book. Even so, he hadn’t gotten far. While he’d mellowed somewhat, his overall mood had soured with the imprisonment. Yes, of course, he knew he contributed to the confinement, but that didn’t help him.

By the time Brennan opened the door, Liam had slouched down on the bed and only lowered the book to stare at him. After some consideration over how difficult he wanted to be, he closed the book, set it aside, and got up to move to stand in front of the wolf. “Even if I’m not, I’m going to burn this room, with me in it, if I don’t get out of it.” He brushed a hand through his hair, and before he could stop himself, added, “You could let me go; you might save the rest of your furniture.”
 
Brennan gives Liam a sad smile when the shorter man suggests he be let go. He also bypasses the comment about saving the rest of his furniture. "I can't do that yet, Liam. Come on, let's go eat." Brennan waits for Liam to exit the bedroom, then follows along behind him as they head downstairs to the kitchen.

Which is an entirely different scene from that morning. People crowd the kitchen tables, nearly every seat full. Children all at one, adults at the others. The tables themselves are lined with dishes, jugs of different drinks, and the conversation makes the room loud. Several pair of eyes look up at Brennan and Liam enter, but despite the staring, there's none of the comical sudden silence shown in movies. Brennan guides Leo to one of the two empty seats at the far end of one table, seating Liam across from the black-haired Eli, and himself across from Sam. Chelsea has chosen to sit directly on Sam's lap, and is currently feeding Sam bites of carrot.
 
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Liam didn’t move immediately. Even though he knew Brennan wasn’t going to let him go, at least not before time was up, he did feel the defeat of it. Soon enough, he forced himself to move through the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. The crowd was overwhelming, not because Liam was opposed to crowds or loud conversation, but he wasn’t keen on being in a room full of werewolves. Still, he went where he was directed, thankful that he didn’t have to think about it because he wouldn’t have done well; he might have backed slowly out of the room without Brennan there, which he acknowledged as stupid and made a point to not think anything else about it.

Once seated, he’d pressed a hand down against his leg to try to divert the tension that was creeping in. His pulse had already jumped up. It was vastly different when the house was quiet, but this was a lot. Realistically, he had to admit that Brennan likely wouldn’t let anything happen, which in itself was another stupid idea. He pulled his gaze from Sam and Chelsea long enough to glance at Brennan, who was still very much a werewolf, but in one impulsive moment, Liam grabbed the wolf’s wrist and held tight. The only thing that would make him let go would be having his fingers pried open.
 
Once they'd sat down, Eli had launched into a conversation about scheduling more patrols, increasing security. Brennan's focus is on him, nodding and adding in his opinions. Sam and Chelsea are occasionally adding their own input. In between conversation, Brennan is putting foods on his plate, and on Liam's.

When Liam grabs his wrist, Brennan's lips quirk up in a smile. But he doesn't look at Liam, thinking it best not to draw attention to the shorter male. He can feel the tension in Liam's grip, and can hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Instead, Brennan moves his hand to rest on Liam's lower thigh. Just a comforting touch, letting Liam know he's okay. For a brief moment, Eli seeks set to try and pull Liam into the conversation, but Brennan pulls the black haired man's attention back to him. "Eli, when are you going to join us for training? You know you're the best at night patrols."
 
Liam was too aware he was panicking. It might have been the silent sort that he inflicted on one other person, but it was panic nonetheless. While he refused or couldn’t let go of Brennan’s wrist, the added contact to his leg made him blink and remember to keep on breathing. For such a small thing, it did more than Liam wanted it to, and the conversation that was happening started to filter in. He could be mad about the whole thing later, including that reliance on Brennan.

Little by little, his hold on Brennan’s wrist relaxed. He didn’t let go, and would clamp down the minute he might lose his security blanket, but he didn’t have a death grip. It hadn’t registered that food had even appeared on his plate, and the index finger of the hand that held onto Brennan twitched, tapped against the wolf’s pulse once. It wasn’t gratitude, per se, but then again, he couldn’t determine what it was. At the very least, he recalled he was hungry and slowly went through the process of eating. If something happened to be unexpectedly loud or he caught someone moving, he seized up again for a moment before mellowing once more.
 
Brennan carried his conversation, hand remaining a comforting weight on Liam's thigh. The Hunter's heartbeat is like a drum in Brennan's ears, dividing his focus. And whenever Liam would seize up, Brennan's fingers give a light squeeze, reminding the human he's safe.

When Brennan notices that Liam is finished eating, he ends the conversation. "Sorry I can't stay to help clean up. Eli, I'll help you sort out the scheduling tomorrow. Sam, you're good to lead tonight's patrol?" Eli and Sam nods as Chelsea moves to help another woman start gathering empty plates. Brennan stands, bringing Liam with him. He doesn't pull his wrist from the shorter man's grip, but instead places his other hand at Liam's lower back. "Come on, let's go outside for a bit."
 
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Liam went easily enough, only bothered about leaving a messy kitchen for other people to deal with because it was a habit to not walk away from that task, but being surrounded by werewolves was a little more pressing. By the time they were out of the kitchen, his hold on Brennan had relaxed to a light touch that dropped entirely after he’d taken two steps outside. Standing on actual ground in the comparative quiet of the house, Liam set his hands over his face before pushing them back through his hair and holding onto the back of his neck. For a second or two, he stayed just that way, with his head bowed under the steady pressure at his neck.

If he had thought for one second that he would have had that reaction, he would have stayed upstairs. “Is it always like that?” he asked quietly, dropping his hands and straightening. It should have been fine. It should have been like dealing with hunters all crammed in a space together, but it wasn’t, and while he was better outside, the feeling persisted that underneath the calm, something had been dug up that he thought had been buried and rotted away.
 
Once outside, Brennan leans against the porch railing to watch Liam, giving him a bit of space. "Crowded like a giant family reunion? Yeah, usually. But that's pretty normal. Sometimes we do dinner on the lawn instead." Brennan watches Liam for a few minutes, then pushes off the railing and moves closer. His hands rest lightly on Liam's shoulders.

"Are you okay, Liam? Truthfully? I could hear your heartbeat the entire time." Brennan looks worried, genuinely concerned for Liam's wellbeing. "I am glad you ate, though."
 
Liam’s eyebrows lifted at the question. “Am I okay?” He pressed a hand to his mouth and shifted away, taking several steps from Brennan just for the space. “Sure,” he offered with some start to a forced smile. “Yeah. I’m being held hostage and my kidnappers want me to see things from their perspective. That’s not a direct ticket to Stockholm syndrome.” But Liam was deflecting from answering honestly as he took up a sort of agitated shuffling, aware that he was out in the open and couldn’t run if he wanted to, and the urge was there, but that was because it was the easier solution.

After a moment, he stopped and stared down the road that would likely eventually lead to town. “You trust them. I don’t. I…” He could be honest, but that meant he trusted Brennan, and he couldn’t do that. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” Liam looked toward the wolf. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but now he’d be prepared.
 
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