Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Milo was mixing something at the kitchen counter, humming to the music he played over the wall-mounted speakers. The oven was on, preheating, and multiple measuring cups were near where Milo worked.

So Sweetheart took the perfect opportunity presented to them.

They didn’t even need to cloak, he was so absorbed in the music and his cooking, that he made it too easy. They approached and pressed their fingers into his sides, tasing him as he jumped with a screech, scrambling to move their hands.

“Sweetheart!” His voice was higher than normal and they cackled behind him as he squirmed against the twisting fingers digging into his sides. “Babe, babe, sweetheart.” He tried again, but they wouldn’t relent.

His laugh was bubbling in his throat but he was holding it back, trying to get away from their hands; they doubled their efforts.

And when he started laughing, they gave him some peace, wrapping their arms around his waist. “You… are a menace!” He panted, slowly catching his breath as he turned around and his hands met the tops of their shoulders.

“I’m sorry, my love. Will you ever forgive me?” They faux-apologized though their grin didn’t help with their very bad attempt at regret. His eyes rolled and he squeezed their shoulders the tiniest amount.

“Oh yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’re so sorry, sweetheart, so remorseful, every damn time.” And his huff was so fond that they instinctively pulled him a little closer, kissing his cheek. He sighed and leaned toward them, nuzzling into the opposite side of their face, breathing them in.

Sweetheart’s heart quickened like it always did when he scented them, especially after he had explained its importance to shifters. They could feel his smile against their cheek, his slow exhale softly against their skin.

“Ya know I love your arms around me, sweetheart,” He pulled back so he could look at them, eyes so fond that Sweetheart had to remember how to breathe. His hands ran down from their shoulders, across their biceps to squeeze the muscles underneath before continuing to their forearms and back up again.

“Strong and capable. Exactly what anyone could ever want in a mate.” And his smile was so sweet, curled higher on one side to reveal his canines; Sweetheart leaned forward and kissed that corner of his mouth and when the grin loosened a little, they kissed him properly.

His chest rumbled against theirs in a deep purr that Milo would never admit to but Sweetheart loved more than anything. They curled their arms tighter around his waist, nipping at his lower lip as his hands pressed against their neck. He laughed against their mouth, pulling back to press his forehead against theirs.

“So are you, my wolf.” Sweetheart revelled in the small and happy noise Milo made. “Strong, competent, and thoughtful.” They travelled across his face, leaving soft kisses across Milo's cheekbones, temple, and down to his chin. “My mate.” They whispered, happy and content as the word rolled between them. “My wonderful, strong, and hella fine mate.” They added with a grin and he laughed, eyes crinkling at their corners.

“You ain’t too bad a sight either, sweetheart.” He chuckled and curled an arm around their neck, pulling them impossibly close. He kissed them, deep and sensual, but with no promise of anything more; they wouldn’t have him any other way, but they did want to do one last thing.

They leaned, ever so slightly downward, gripped Milo’s thighs and pulled him up. He gasped, wrapping his legs around their hips and tightening the curl of his arm.

“Sweetheart!” He laughed, mirthful and light, against their mouth, pulling back just enough to grin down at them. His hands trailed down to squeeze the flexing muscles of their biceps. He was sitting on one of Sweetheart’s arms, that hand gripping his thigh, while the other wrapped around his waist, holding his hip.

His hands climbed their arms, pressing into the muscles of their shoulders and neck, admiring and devouring. “Picking up your wolf to show off, huh, all hot and shit… damn, sweetheart.” He muttered, voice low and smooth, leaning in close as his arms circled their neck again.

“I know you love it, Milo. At the mercy of your mate, held up, close and tight.” They tugged him closer, emphasizing their point as his arm closed the distance between their faces, mere millimetres from each other.

“Such a strong wolf…” His pupils grew and they so badly wanted to kiss him again. “Brought down by his mate.” And they relished in the small growl Milo caught in his throat as he watched them intently.

“You are playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” He teased, practically feeling their grin against his mouth. They simply hummed and he melted into them, kissing them hard as his hands cupped their face, tilting it up to him.

Their hand squeezed his thigh, the other slipping its thumb under the hem of his shirt to feel his skin. He gasped and they swallowed it as they tucked him closer.

They didn’t want to let him go, but he was still making dinner so they simply hummed, non-committed, as they turned to place him on a clean part of the counter without breaking apart. He gasped, clearly offended as they squeezed his thighs one more time, then pulled back to rummage through the fridge.

“Sweetheart,” Milo whined, hopping off the counter to place his hands on their hips. “Come on, we were getting somewhere. You can’t just be all… commanding… and all that and then leave me high and dry!” He huffed, nuzzling into Sweetheart’s neck as sweetly as he could; it almost worked too, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

“You have food to make, my dear.” They turned to Milo as he groaned, pulling his hands back. But before he could move away, they tugged him close, flush against their chest and leaned into his ear. “Then we can talk, my wolf.”

Chapter Text

He could see them dancing, face split wide with a grin as Angel yelled lyrics at them and Babe laughed from the sidelines. David stood next to him and Milo didn’t even have to worry about him looking at Sweetheart because his alpha was staring at Angel with a barely disguised smile while the wolves leaned against the wall, drinks in hand.

It was funny seeing his Alpha all fond and sappy just because his partner was in the room. Though, Milo doubted he looked any more dignified as he watched Sweetheart spin with Angel.

And when they looked at him, he could see their eyes soften, grin tucking into the side of their mouth as if his attention was unexpected, but not unwanted. They were so pretty, bathed in the multi-coloured lights Angel had insisted David put up before everyone arrived.

(“You all deserve a good, fun night! So, you need lights!” They had said, hands on their hips and refusing to back down from the matter, so David had agreed.)

And then Angel tugged their hand and they were drawn back towards their friends as they swayed and spun, sang and laughed.

“I’m glad you found them, Milo,” David grumbled, though that was his sincere voice, and Milo’s attention dragged up to his Alpha. David was looking down at him with a half-smirk, eyes glinting fondly in a way he’d never seen before. “I’ve never seen you so happy. I’m glad you’ve got them.” Milo tucked a smile into his cheek as David patted his shoulder.

“Yeah… me too,” Milo whispered, attention gripped and pulled onto that dance floor once more as Sweetheart hollered out a laugh. They took up the room as they owned it, or maybe he was so struck by them that he could never look at anyone else.

They held themself tall, chin up, and their smile was wide, clothes swaying with their steps as they rocked their hips to upbeat pop music. His eyes traced over everything and he could tell that they knew; they were always better at hiding their gaze.

David chuckled next to him and Milo shot him a quick glare as his Alpha raised his free hand in a mock apology, still grinning.

“You and your heart-eyes better hush,” Milo grumbled and as David went to retort, Angel bounded over and snatched his drink before turning on their heels to bother Babe across the room. David blinked, glancing at MIlo to see his shit-eating grin before following them past the dance floor.

“What was that about?” Milo jumped as Sweetheart’s voice ghosted in his ear, nearly spilling his drink as their magic reached out and caught it. They cackled next to him as his hand pressed to his heart.

“Christ, sweetheart!” A smile turned his mouth crooked, as it always did when they laughed, even if it was at him. God, he could never stop looking at them. They curled an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they nuzzled his temple.

“I’m very sorry, Milo. Will you ever forgive me?” When he turned to look at them, their shit-eating grin did nothing to calm his beating heart. The hand once pressed to his waist, ran up his chest so they could weave their fingers into the curls at the back of his head. He leaned into the touch and they tucked their grin to the side.

“Yeah, yeah, sweetheart, whatever.” He, ineffectively, grumbled as they laughed and leaned over to kiss him, slow and achingly fond. “You’re such an ass,” He mumbled and they hummed, pulling him closer.

“I know, I know.” They laughed, thumbing his cheek as they pulled back. “But would you love me if I was anything else?” They teased, eyes darting down to Milo’s mouth before looking back at him. With his free hand, Milo reached up to cup his partner’s face, unable to speak as their eyes stared back at his. God, they took his breath away.

“I love you just the way you are.” He confessed and their eyes melted, slipping half-lidded as they did in the morning, bathed in sunlight and gently swatting at Aggro as he tried to crawl between his parents.

Milo smiled just at the thought, the memory of a constant domestically that he had with them of all people, a wonderful and kick-ass Stealth who took no one’s shit and demanded respect. Who knew they’d open up a spot in their home and heart for a wolf-like him and the people he brought with him?

He leaned in to kiss them and they met him halfway, hand playing the curls of his hair. He refused to acknowledge the subtle purr it drew from his chest; they pressed their other palm against its origin and it deepened beneath their skin.

David obnoxiously coughed from the dance floor and Sweetheart’s mouth quirked against his before they pulled back and Milo rolled his eyes wordlessly. “What was that about?” They ribbed and Milo elected to ignore it, focusing on his drink and turning his attention back to his partner’s evening.

“You enjoyin’ yourself?” He asked, sipping at his drink while they leaned back to think it over. He watched them look over at the dance floor—Asher and Babe swaying by the music system while Angel had David wrapped in their arms near its center point—and their eyes went soft and glazed as they watched their family from the sidelines.

“Yeah,” They whispered, turning to their mate with the same look in their eyes—sunlight in the morning, warm under the blankets, soft hands in his hair. “I am.”

Chapter Text

Three cars pulled up to the house, two in the driveway and a truck on the street. Milo was tucked into the passenger seat of Sweetheart’s car, absentmindedly leaning against his door as his eyes drooped and nearly shut. They slipped out their door and over to where David was getting out of Milo’s slightly beat-up van.

David had called earlier that morning to ask Sweetheart to come and pick Milo up from the den after their recent job. “He’s been healed a fair bit, so I don’t trust him on the road. I’ll drive his car back for you, so don’t worry about that.” Why Milo needed healing, David didn’t tell them, but they figured they’d get it out of Milo one way or another.

Angel was the one in the truck, who had followed the two cars so they could pick up David after Sweetheart and Milo got home.

“Thank you, David.” They spoke as soon as David shut the car door. He tossed them the keys, waving off their comment. He needed to learn how to accept appreciation.

“Don’t mention it. Just keep an eye on him for me. I’ll check in in the morning.” He mumbled, though his eyes watched the passenger window of Sweetheart’s black car; he could see Milo’s frizzy hair where it leaned against the glass. He was still awake, nodding away to something though clearly too out of it to notice the car was off and Sweetheart wasn’t next to him.

“Will do, David. You’ve got my number,” He nodded and headed towards the red truck at the bottom of the driveway. Angel rolled down the window to wave at the Stealth. “Drive home safe!” They hollered. And Angel yelled “we will!” as David simply lifted his hand in farewell as he disappeared behind the truck.

Sweetheart watched them pull away from the curb and head down the street. They were left alone with a very drowsy mate and dinner to make when their partner could stomach it. They knocked, very quietly, on the glass of Milo’s door. He startled though it was very short-lived as he caught their eye and pulled away from the door so Sweetheart could open it.

He didn’t say anything, though they thought he would have if he was fully conscious, instead he simply let them pull him out of the car by his arm before wrapping one of theirs around his waist to keep him upright. He leaned heavily into them and the pair stumbled over to the front door. Sweetheart, not even trying to unlock it by hand, simply waved a little magic at the door and pressed it open.

As soon as they got inside, Sweetheart shut the door and Milo sagged against the wood as sudden intense tremors ran up his legs. He pressed a free hand to his clavicle as his breathing turned choppy, reaching out for his mate as they fell to the floor with him. He was clinging to one of their hands, eyes suddenly frantic as he struggled to realize where he was.

It struck them hard, they had never seen Milo so frightened before, not even with that shade in the woods those few years ago.

They looked him up and down, noting the race of his pulse and the pattern of his breathing—he had rapid bursts of too-fast exhales and then suddenly he was inhaling so much he was forgetting to let it out as it caught in his chest. They pulled the hand from around his waist and pressed it to his chest, squeezing the hand he held into a slow in-and-out pattern. Their hand fingered at the collar of his shirt, pressing against his skin to offer another grounding point.

His chest shuddered under their palm and his eyes snapped to theirs. His irises were a little brighter now and they could see the recognition slowly flood into his aura as it thrummed against where they touched. Their mate bond was pulling him back to them; they pressed a little closer, hand crawling up to nudge their index and middle finger against the pulse under Milo’s jaw.

His eyes nearly shut as his breath flooded out of his chest and his eyes blinked back to their home. He was back in the room and he was back in Sweetheart’s arms. They smiled at him, pulling his hand to their mouth to kiss at the old scars crisscrossing his knuckles.

His palm was callused and rough as it pressed to theirs, but they’d have it no other way; they loved to trace the lines etched into his hands like words on parchment, his life story.

“Milo,” They whispered against the skin of his hand and his small smile, dimples creasing his cheeks and smile lines faint, knocked their breath out of their lungs as he leaned into them. The hand not clutched in theirs reached up to their nape, flexing to gently squeeze in recognition of their voice. “You’re back, baby. You’re home. I brought you home, I’ve got you.” They murmured into the too-quiet room.

They scanned him again, cataloging injuries though there was very little left, and Milo simply watched them do it. When their eyes met him again, he leaned a little closer and they met him halfway. The kiss was slow as Milo’s hand ran up their neck to their cheek where we pressed a little closer; the relief and stability of his core fluttered at the edges of their dull aura, seeking more contact.

The arm around his waist pulled him a little closer as his legs were still twitching, though significantly less than before, and they pulled back from his mouth. Silence settled over them and Sweetheart prepared to ask what they had wanted since they picked him up.

Until Aggro came bounding in, a rattling meow following the beat of his steps. He curled up next to Milo, pawing at his calves until the shifter patted his legs in invitation and his cat padded into his lap. “He seems to think you need more company.” They whispered instead.

“It’s… It’s the both of ya I need, Sweetheart.” He confessed, voice raspy and quiet, most likely due to having been silent for a few hours of healing.

“Then it’s both of us you’ve got.” They promised, leaning in that small distance to kiss him slowly, just a drag of their lips together as his mouth curled upward and his palm squeezed theirs softly. Aggro decided that was the prime opportunity to interrupt, bumping his head against Sweetheart’s chin and pawing at Milo.

Sweetheart laughed as they pulled back, moving into a standing position as Milo gently grabbed his cat under his arms; to Aggro’s credit, he just sat there, staring at his owner. Milo gently wiggled him back and forth, before bringing him closer to tap their foreheads together and then setting him down.

Sweetheart offered their hand with a saccharine grin and he allowed them to pull him up into their arms. His legs were more steady this time and he didn’t crumble under his weight as he leaned toward them. Aggro curled around their feet with a crackling purr in his throat and Sweetheart cooed down at him before cupping Milo’s face gently. They didn’t say anything, though he expected them to, instead they simply kissed him slowly again.

“There you go,” They muttered as he leaned heavily against them, putting his body weight against theirs so Sweetheart wrapped their arms back around him. Curling one hand up to slowly stroke his hair as his face found the crook of their neck, they muttered soft words and gently swayed him as he clung, arms around their shoulders. “I’ve got you, baby.”

They stayed like that for a while, Aggro staying close but reading the room and staying quiet until Milo slowly pulled back from their neck. His eyes were nearly closed but he seemed to be trying desperately to keep them open and responsive to his mate. They nearly cooed at him, reaching up to cup his cheek.

They watched him for a little bit, eyes roaming his face before finally asking the question they’ve had since David called them that morning. “Milo… what happened?” If he was capable of it, they were sure his eyes would’ve snapped open, but instead, they twitched rapidly behind his eyelids and his arms tensed around them.

“There… it wasn’t too big, just… just a couple elementals wanting to get into one of the entrances to the area we were told to keep off-limits.” He stopped before noticing the question and confusion clear in their eyes. “They didn’t listen, obviously, so I used a little more force and told Brooks that I might need back up... but not to come runnin'.” He spoke slowly as his eyes rolled forward, leaning against Sweetheart even more.

They played with his hair and he inhaled to continue. “And then… magic got involved and the fire elemental of the group caught me in the chest and… jaw I think. Burned like a motherfucker, but the medics cleaned it up pretty well… I think.”

Sweetheart simply hummed, pulling Milo a little closer to their chest; they caught him easily and swayed back and forth in front of the door. Those people should’ve gotten a serious charge, they thought. The mere idea that more fatal harm could’ve come to Milo if just a little more force were added or if a few more people were against him or if the medics didn’t get there fast enough… it nearly made their blood boil, but they tampered it down.

“I’m glad you're safe, Milo. You handled it well. I’m proud of you, you’re always so quick on your feet and I know you can handle yourself well. I’m glad you’re alright.” They kissed his forehead and he hummed, nearly morphing into a purr that Sweetheart hated to disturb.

“Me too, sweetheart. It’s good to be… here… in your arms.” He muttered into their shoulder, slumping forward with exhaustion. They loved that he was leaning on them, it wasn’t often that they got the chance to provide that comfort for him, but they knew they had to break it, if just for a few moments.

“Now, let’s get some food in you, Milo-” Aggro decided that was the perfect time to yowl at their feet. “And you too, mister.” They directed at the cat, receiving a deep purr in response. Letting a smile tug at their mouth, they took Milo’s hand and led him into the kitchen.

They fell into a domestic pattern and Milo slowly turned to feed Aggro, bathing him in affection because that cat was a pampered prince though Milo refused to admit it. He was tired too, so Sweetheart couldn’t fault him for being a little sweeter than normal.

While their partner was busy, Sweetheart reheated some of the leftover pasta they had yesterday (a not-so-uncommon gift from Marie that she had decided to hand deliver as an excuse to randomly stop by and see her son). They could make something tomorrow, they hadn’t done that in a while.

They stepped away from the countertop to bring the food to the microwave. They plugged in the numbers and turned to face their partner as he entered the kitchen. They leaned back against one of the counters and simply looked at him as they looked back. Milo tilted his head in the way they loved to tease him about, a tired smile curling at his mouth. Sweetheart moved a step closer just as the microwave beeped and he huffed as they turned away.

“Come on, my wolf.” Sweetheart laughed, walking towards the living room with the bowls and utensils, and their partner slowly followed them. They both settled on the couch, silently munching on their food, vaguely listening to Aggro do the same.

They finished up with their plates and Sweetheart quickly brought them to the kitchen, before returning to Milo’s side. His eyes were shut and he was practically curled up in the middle of the couch.

“I know you’re tired, but I need to look at your wounds before anything else. Can I do that for you, Milo?” They spoke, walking over and then leaning closer to their mate. Their hand pressed to his face, tracing his cheekbone and he leaned into their palm, nodding tiredly against their skin. “Thank you, baby.” Leaning in, Sweetheart kissed his cheek before settling onto the couch next to him.

Milo tilted his head to look at his mate as Sweetheart curled next to him, resting one foot against the floor. They grabbed the hem of his shirt, looking at Milo, silently asking a question to which he nodded and they quickly slipped it over his head. They tossed it next to them and he leaned back against the couch. “Do you want me to heal you with magic or first aid?” They lifted their hands, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

“I don’t… I don’t need to be feelin’ worse than I do… sweetheart.” Milo mumbled with a very tired-looking grin, bright eyes squinting at them. Still being a little shit even when he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Oh, hush, you ass,” They laughed, gently swatting at his chest before he reached up—very slowly mind you—and caught their hand. His eyes slipped shut and he squeezed their hand, bringing it up to slowly kiss at their knuckles before pressing their palm to his cheek. He looked ready to fall asleep, Sweetheart had half the mind to think he was sleeping. “I’ll start the healing now.” His head tilted and they interpreted that as doubt. “I’ve gotten better, I assure you, but this should be pretty simple anyway.”

“Okay… sweet… heart.” He mumbled, nuzzling their palm and leaning against the couch. Using their other hand, they pressed their hand over the few scraps he still had across his chest. They directed their magic forward, reaching out for Milo’s body under their fingertips, mapping out the layers of injured skin and carefully knitting them back together. Milo barely made any noise. Sweetheart considered that a win.

“What do you need, Milo?” They whispered, pulling their hand from his chest to brush through the tangles of his hair. He was nearly asleep, slumped against the couch as the healing magic worked its way through his system.

“Just hold me.” He whispered back, leaning into their palm and barely cracking his eyes open.

“Of course, my love.” And they opened their arms as he practically fell into them, keeping his full weight off their chest as they leaned back against a pillow nestled against one of the couch’s arms. Once they were settled, he tucked against them more, head under their chin as he sighed heavily. His legs were tangled with theirs and they wrapped their arms tight around his back, gently stroking one hand through his hair.

“Thank you, sweethear’.” He mumbled, hot breath ghosting over their collarbone. “I’m so glad I’ve got you, so lucky you’re in my life, baby.” He snuggled a little closer, tucking his head into their neck, and their free hand ran up and down his back in slow, smooth strokes. His breathing fell into a similar pattern, drawn-out and deep as he slowly relaxed under their touch. His breath tickled but Sweetheart refused to move from their spot.

“You’ve always got me, my wolf.” They whispered into his hair and he inhaled their scent. They could feel the slow flex of his back, the strong muscles going soft as their palm dragged slowly across them. Aggro meowed from the floor and Sweetheart chuckled, a bubbling rumble of their chest against Milo’s, as Aggro hopped up and curled at the couple’s tangled feet. “Both of us, I mean.”

Chapter Text

“Milo!” They hollered from the kitchen, plates set out and ready for their partner to consume after bounding down the stairs, ever the enthusiast for a home-cooked meal. But he didn’t answer and they couldn’t hear the pounding of his footsteps; they couldn’t hear anything in fact, there was no movement from the second floor.

“Milo!” They hollered again, a little more worried as they slowly walked up the stairs to give him time to reply. He didn’t, again. So they marched onward, up the stairs and to the office, where Milo had taken his research after arriving home from impromptu grocery shopping that morning.

Finally, they could hear actual signs of life on the second floor: shuffling papers, typing laptop keys, and the rolling of a chair back and forth as Milo muttered, incoherent through the door, to himself. They knocked, definitely loud enough for him to hear, but the idle noise of work didn’t stop for even a moment.

Signing, they pressed open the door slowly, to not scare their very concentrated partner—an intention Milo would have scoffed at, should he read their thoughts. They found him just as they expected, nose buried in the files they had brought home with seemingly random papers scattered about and a laptop screen displaying the middle of an article.

But when they really looked at him, it was clear he hadn’t left the room, barely got out of his seat, for any longer than necessary. His hair was a mess of tangles—even though he’d done it this morning so it must’ve been from running his hands through it—and his legs trembled as he bounced them anxiously beneath his chair.

They were certain that if they could see his face, his eyes would be bloodshot to all hell and his face would be dragged down by a frown seemingly etched into his skin.

“Milo.” He grunted in acknowledgement and Sweetheart might’ve been hurt but the treatment if they weren’t so concerned. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” He made the same sound so they decided to approach, gently and slowly placing their hands upon his shoulders to ease their fingertips into the tense muscles.

He flinched and they pulled their hands back as his head whipped around to look at them. Recognition appeared in his eyes and he blinked as if coming back from a heavy daze.

“Sweetheart?” He mumbled, voice croaky and unused; dehydrated too, they realized, as he licked his lips and he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth like he’d just tasted something he couldn’t describe. “When did you get home?” His eyes squinted and he seemed so out of it that Sweetheart didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d been home for a few hours, so they glossed over the question.

“What did you last eat? You’ve been working for hours now, baby. Dinner’s ready and everything, come downstairs.” They gently pleaded, taking his hand and rubbing circles into his knuckles. His eyes lazily watched them as if it hurt to keep his eyelids open, but he kept glancing at his desk and the files.

Sweetheart knew what they were, they didn’t even have to look at them to refresh their memory on every single word written on those few pieces of parchment. All the Department knew about CloseKnit and it was very little. They barely considered it a file, most of their cases had more paperwork on them than this culty organization did.

All the Department truly knew was one location a meeting was held at, their backward bullshit opinions, and their attempts at running for office; the latter, especially considering how fast it was distributed, hinted at a possible internal connection to the Department or D.U.M.P. or possible involvement in the event, either of which spelt anything good.

In short, Sweetheart understood Milo's tenacity and desire to find out everything about the fucked-up cult group and crush them before any harm could be done. But they knew nothing good would come of him working himself to the ground.

“Milo,” They sighed as he turned back to the desktop. They draped their arms over his shoulders, palms to his chest, so they could press their face into the back of his head, breathing in his hair. He leaned back just a fraction and they dragged their face to the side to nose at the junction of his neck. “You need to eat, my love. Take a break, this will all be here in the morning.” They pressed a palm over his heart.

“Just… just give me a few more minutes, sweetheart.” He croaked, patting the hand on his chest. He seemed so dazed, working on autopilot despite clearly wanting to get something out of this random binge. It hurt to see him like this; usually, it was the reverse, Sweetheart hunched over their desk as Milo struggled to pull them away from it. It was time for Sweetheart to reciprocate.

“How about this,” They stepped back so they could swivel Milo’s chair, “you take a break and get some food in you. Maybe even a shower. And then I will help you with research. We can take it slow, mull over ideas and establish a baseline to work off of.” They leaned in a little, cupping his face with one hand. “How does that sound, baby?”

Milo’s sigh was full-bodied and he nearly fell into them, eyes slipping shut as his head leaned into their palm. His mouth moved in a mumble through all Sweetheart caught was a vague hum of approval. They offered their hand and pulled Milo up, though he immediately neglected to lean against them, making his way toward the dining room on his own.

They watched him go before quickly following, seeing him stumble down the hall, leaning against the wall. He always caught himself, though they watched him blink rapidly as soon as the evening sunlight crept through the kitchen windows.

“Sweethear’... did you make this?” He mumbled, stepping into the kitchen where all the dishes needed to be cleaned instead of where the food was cooling a room over. He glanced back to where Sweetheart ambled toward him and his eyes flashed with happy recognition again before repeating his question as if they hadn’t heard him.

“Yes. A home-cooked meal just for us. Go and take a seat, my love.” They pressed a hand to his shoulder, gently directing him through the kitchen to the dining room. They quickly shot magic, in the form of heatwaves, over the food to make sure it was the perfect temperature for Milo.

He slipped into the seat, very nearly actually slipping from his seat, before he settled in front of his food, hand poised over his utensils. But then he stopped, blinked rapidly, and settled his hand hard against the tabletop. They watched him, pretty overtly, from their seat next to him before they started digging into their food.

“Milo?” They whispered and he blinked again, head slowly swivelling in Sweetheart’s direction. Their heart twisted. His eyes were frantic again, but his face was twisted in confusion bordering on a very genuine upsetness.

“Sweetheart?” He whispered, tinged with fear, into the air that suddenly seemed way too quiet for the home they had made together. His mouth trembled around the word.

“I’m right here, my love.” Their hand pressed to his and they could feel the tremor of it as he watched them. They moved their chair closer, resting his clasped hand on their thigh so he’d turn his body toward them. Their thumb brushed the curve of his cheekbone but his eyes barely registered their face; searching as if the dining room was bathed in pitch black and his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet.

“I’m right here with you, Milo. I’m holding your hand and you are sitting in your dining room in the spot you always have. You are home and it is,” they glanced at the wall-mounted clock, “9 pm. You got home a couple of hours ago. Do you remember that?”

He blinked and leaned into their palm, eyes still distant but Sweetheart swore they could see his eyes slowly dilating. “Yeah… yeah. With,” his eyebrows furrowed, “with groceries… right?” His eyes found theirs, the hand clasped in theirs squeezing lightly as his other touched the hand on his cheek, light and fleeting.
“Yeah, that’s right. What did you do after that?”

“I… I-” His knuckles went white around theirs and his words caught in his throat. “I don’t- I don’t remember… S-sweetheart, I don’t- fuck, I-” He sobbed and they immediately shot up, tugging him in so he could bury his face in their chest, hands clutching the back of their shirt. He mumbled and sobbed, choked words and heartbreaking sounds.

“Breathe, baby, I’m here, I’m here. Breathe with me, my love.” They whispered into his hair, holding him close and tight against them. “You are safe, you are here in my arms. In our home. You are present.” They rocked and swayed very slowly by his chair, feeling his heels hook around their calves, pulling them even closer.

“S-sweetheart, sweetheart, sweethear’…” He muttered like a desperate prayer, clutching and heaving hot against their skin. It frightened them immensely, but they couldn’t show it, they had to keep themself calm so he’d follow them. They wished he couldn’t hear the pounding of their heart in their chest, but there was no doubt he could.

“I’m here, you’re here. You are in the present, in our home. You are safe.” They whispered again, hands running up and down his clothed back with steady pressure. He needed all the contact he could get and based on the hands pressed to their back, no longer trembling or gripping too hard, it was working.

“Milo… come back to me.”

His breathing was shaky but no longer rapid or uncontrolled, even levels of breath and he finally shifted in his seat. His head lifted from its hunched position against their chest, pressing his face into their collarbone, scenting them slowly. His body still trembled, subtly in the tension of his neck and spine so they smoothed their hands down the line, under his shirt to feel his warm skin.

“I’m… here, sweether’... I’m here,” he sighed and inhaled, “you’re here and… you feel so good, sweethear’.” He nuzzled closer, tightening his arms and squeezing their thighs with his knees. “I don’t…” Milo pulled back just barely and they could feel his eyes tracing their chin since they couldn’t move their head. “I don’t think I can eat… right now.”

“That’s alright, my love. You should rest for a little while, you can eat when you can stomach it.” Sweetheart curled a hand into his hair, pulling a purr from his chest as he nuzzled closer. “Bed or couch?”

“Couch… it’s closer.” He mumbled and Sweetheart nodded, leaning down to catch his thighs in their palms and hoist him up; his legs were around their waist immediately, arms around their shoulders. “Hmmm, damn sweethear’.” He was already half-asleep, sleepily smiling against their collarbone as they stifled a laugh.

Easily, they carried Milo over to the couch and settled against the arm of the couch, keeping Milo tucked into their chest. He hummed low and it turned into a purr once more, rumbling against their chest as they threaded through his hair.

“I love you, my wolf. Rest your eyes, I’ll still be here for when you need to wake.” He mumbled something back but they didn’t even try to understand it as his breathing evened out and he purred in a rumble.

Chapter Text

“Mornin’ Milo...” They mumbled, shifting in their spot so they could press their face into his neck, breathing him in. They looked so pretty like this, a stripe of sunlight bathing their hair in gold, turning it to copper just below the stroke of his fingertips against their scalp. No irritation lines creasing their brown or frustration building on their shoulders, just smooth slopes of relaxed and pliant muscle.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” He grinned against their forehead before pressing a kiss against its surface. They groaned something unintelligible into his collarbone, so he just kissed their skin again and threaded his fingers in their hair in lazy patterns.

He was tempted to open the curtain—using magic obviously, he wasn't getting up—but he didn’t want to force Sweetheart up and out of bed before they were willing. The sunlight of morning or midday always managed to wake them like a cold shower when it entered their room.

“-sh Milo... it’s early enough… an’ you feel good so we’re stayin’...” They shuffled closer, pressing a kiss to his collar. “Right…” Another kiss, slightly higher. “Here.” Another kiss as they nosed at his pulse point—very wolf-like—with their face practically under his cheek as they pressed as close as possible. With them wrapped around him like this, he could feel their heartbeat against his chest.

He pulled them closer, flush and warm under soft blankets.

“Alright, alright. You win, sweetheart.” He whispered, thumbing their ribs with his unimpeded hand. They shivered despite the warmth and he grinned. Silence settled over them, the room at least, as birds still chirped out the window and the house gently creaked as the sun opened up into the sky.

He would normally busy himself with his phone, but with one arm pinned and his phone out of reach anyway, he focused on his partner instead.

The rhythm of their breath at his pulse pulled his focus, his heart speeding up at the intimate sensation, mind clouding with thoughts of them and their skin pressed against his.

Neither of them was clothed, one of Sweetheart’s legs was trapped between his while the other laid over his top thigh. And he savoured the contact, free hand running down to press smooth strokes into their hips and thighs. He kneaded into the muscle, feeling them shift and groaned against his neck, hands rising to press into the strands of his hair; they didn’t tug, arms suddenly liquid as their fingers tangled in the strands.

Sweetheart pulled their face back, pressing their nose to his and he watched their eyelashes flutter just before opening to reveal the beauty of their eyes. Glinting golden in the morning light—only then did he realize it bathed their face—and they tilted their head and kissed him slowly as if discovering his mouth for the first time.

His heart shuddered, their tongue exploring his mouth in lazy strokes. His hands crawled up their sides, palming their shoulder blades to press their chest to his. Their heartbeat hammered in his ears, but they didn’t kiss him any harder, just dragged their lips against his and licked his teeth almost unconsciously.

“Sweetheart,” He whispered as they pulled back an inch to breathe, his voice just a little too high to be entirely unaffected. They hummed, hand running down his neck, over his shoulder, and up to his jaw, thumbing his cheekbone.

His heart jumped in his throat and he was sure, that if it beat out of his chest, they’d catch it and hold it as if they didn’t already own it from day one. “The sun’s up, sweetheart.”

“I know, my love.” Their eyes blinked open, voice slow and sleepy, though they pushed themself away from his chest. “Come on,” they slipped off the bed, somehow stable on their feet despite how little their eyes stayed open, “take my hand.”

He followed them, eyes raking up and down their body as his hand intertwined with theirs. They pulled him off the bed until their chests met and he felt the warmth of the blanket lingering on their skin, his arms finding their waist. Their arms linked around his neck, pressing their face into the available skin of his shoulder.

He watched them and felt their breath glide down his collarbone and pecs as they slowly breathed in a calming pattern; he mimicked them and pulled them closer. Their hand flicked over his shoulder, a whoosh of nearly silent magic followed, and suddenly music flooded the room from a nearby wall-mounted speaker.

Pressed tight in his arms, Sweetheart started swaying their hips, slowly stepping as if asking Milo to follow them; he did and they quickly fell into a slow rhythm, matching the music. They hummed, low in their throat, with the words in the music, voice cracking over notes and going silent over others.

Milo tipped his head against theirs, temple to temple, as the music filled the room; it was slow and his fingers gently tapped to the beat of the syllables against their spine. Their back arched beneath his touch, their hips pressing to his but their breathing and heartbeat never changed.

They turned, slowly stepping in a box-step next to their bed and suddenly his Sweetheart was bathed in the sun’s golden light; his soul left his body and his chest nearly shuddered. He could only see so much of their skin, but he could still see parts of it, curves turned golden and scars melting into strikes of copper.

All he could focus on was their skin, soft and smooth under his palms. His fingers nearly burned with the desire to trace every curve, bump, and edge he could reach—as if he didn’t have their entire body, every sensitive spot that would make them moan, memorized.

But maybe he wanted a refresher, wanted to review his notes—they would probably laugh at how nerdy that sounded.

“We should probably do things today… but I don’t want to.” They muttered, one hand curling into his hair as they pulled back to look him in the eye. They still swayed but his hands stopped tapping, shifting around until his palms perfectly cupped their sharp hip bones. They sighed, eyes fluttering closed briefly before opening again, watching him with soft eyes.

“I gotta agree with you, sweetheart,” He leaned in, pressing his nose to their hair and breathing them in. “Maybe we deserve a break,” His eyes found their again and their nose bumped against his, faces so close, “what do you say?”

“Milo…” Their face brightened, still sleepy but so pretty, “do you even have to ask?” And he leaned down to press his mouth to their grin, stealing it away as his hands trailed down to their thighs.

“Took you long enough.” They laughed as he hoisted them up, only slightly struggling and stumbling, until he got back to the bed.

He pressed them against the blankets, leaning over them as their hands hung around his neck, playing with the curls at his nape.

Neither of them moved.

Their face turned to gold again, but they didn’t seem to mind the glinting sunlight as they gazed up at him. The music still filled the room and he wished their hum was paired with it too.

“I love you.” And when he echoed their sweet words, they pulled him down into a kiss.

Slowly, like the steady rise of the sun, it melted into more and more until they were tangled in the sheets, their morning plans entirely forgotten.

Chapter Text

He could barely move, his body tense and aching every time he tried. And he did try, he tried so fucking hard but as soon as his legs or arms peeked out from under the blanket, he was hit with a roll of spasms and shakes.

He wanted to fucking cry.

He could feel tears bubbling in his eyes too, not quite falling but so close it irritated him beyond belief that they hadn’t yet. His hands clenched and more tears bubbled up at his anger, the cycle ugly and so fucking infuriating—he wanted to punch something, break something in half, or tear at it with his teeth.

His body ached to shift just at the thought and he almost gave in, but it would hurt too much, it would be pushing it right after he finally got it back—he never wanted it to leave, no matter how selfish that felt.

He needed his lifelong comfort and safety—how else would he survive?

He could hear the front door click open, Sweetheart’s voice ringing in the nearby hallway as shoes fell to the floor and a key ring clicked against its designated bowl. Hands found his ears—his arms ached as they moved and flexed—unable to find his voice as his tears spilled and streaked. He pressed his face into the pillow, mouth opening and closing until he was reduced to silently screaming.

His head hurt. He wanted Sweetheart. He wanted to sleep.

He wanted everything to fucking stop.

“Milo?” Sweetheart pressed the door open and he could hear them moving across the carpet as the door slid shut. His mouth opened in reply; he croaked and his legs kicked out pathetically as he tried to move but was reduced to inching beneath the blankets. “Oh, my love.” Their hand pressed softly to his hair, gently pulling at his curls and pressing into his scalp with warm fingertips.

Sweetheart crouched in front of him, leaning on the side of the bed as they rested on one arm, watching his face.

He could see them, the pinch of their brow and the worry of their mouth, but their hands were so fucking warm and he could feel them buzzing as his temple.

Magic flooded into his head and his mind went fuzzy, eyes slipping shut as his hands softened over his ears. They cooed at him, catching his hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles as they leaned closer to his face.

“My wolf, my love…” they pressed their nose to his, “how’s your head feeling?”

“Better,” He whispered, voice croaking out of his throat. He shifted, tilting his head to reach their mouth before his chest tightened and flared with heat. His legs twitched, hands squeezing Sweetheart’s fingers as he exhaled slow and shaky, trying to cool the heat in his chest. “Fuck, ow.”

His breath nearly punched out of his chest, but with each breath, the heat slowly faded and his chest grew lighter. One of Sweetheart’s hands shifted, pressing against his sternum and looking at him with a question in their eyes.

He nodded and the feel of their magic flooded in again, subtle and soft even as it twinged against his threads and the heat of his chest. They filled him with a cool wave, like water over a burn. It settled in his chest and he exhaled slowly as they drew back.

“That should’ve helped a bit… your threads are burning, but they aren’t broken,” their hand found his check, tilting their head to rest it in front of his, “I can call David, tell him what you want me to, and we can rest for the day? I can bring you food if you can stomach it… or just water. Whatever you need, my love.”

“Just you… and sleep.” Milo whispered and he felt them shuffle closer, lips pressing to his, feather-light and fleeting.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He felt them pull away and his eyes cracked open to follow them. They were typing on their phone and he tried to speak, but no sound came out. They glanced up and caught his eye, sending him a grin that set his cheeks on fire—but the good kind. “I’ll let David know, then I’ll join you.”

They did just that, putting their phone away and slipping under the blankets behind him. “Do you want me to hold you?” He nodded and it didn’t hurt his head as much as he thought it would. Their hands cupped his waist and he tried to turn to face them. They helped him move, though his arms ached and his legs kept spasming. “I’ve got you, baby.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” He croaked and they smiled like he hung the stars in the sky. Their free hand felt so warm on his skin as they traced his slopes and curves; across his face and down his neck to rest on his collarbone.

“You are strong, my wolf,” they pressed their forehead to his, eyes slipping shut, “and you are allowed to falter… but when you do, you can lean on me or David or Ash, because we love you.” His arms twitched and, despite the pain, he wrapped them around Sweetheart’s waist and pulled their hips close. “Lean on me, baby. I’m here for you… and we can stay like this for as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” He croaked, more from the tears choking his throat than the lack of use. “And I’m trying to, sweetheart. It’s just… h-hard with everything that’s happened.” They hummed low in their throat, gently nodding but keeping their eyes shut. He shuffled closer and they helped him move. “But I’ve got you,” he buried his face in their neck and their hands circled him, holding him flush, “and that’s a start.”

Chapter Text

His bones creaked as he stood, the floorboards echoing the sound as he shifted onto his feet. Milo threw his arms above his head, shirt riding up and revealing a strip of dark skin, shadowed and tanned, as his spine popped and his muscles stretched.

It was dark out, because of course he’d worked for too long and of course Sweetheart was too busy to drag him away like last time. But he could see the stars outside his window, a small amount of them, of course, like little pin-pricks, but he could see them.

He snapped his laptop shut, a few feet away from the window as the room settled in darkness and the sweet smell of nighttime washed over him.

He breathed the air into his lungs, fresh and cool and perfect, and his eyes slipped shut. His body still ached, muscles protesting the simple act of standing, but the cold sent a shiver up his spine and he was tempted to shift. Night time always did that to him. He wasn’t sure if it was a shifter thing or a Milo thing.

He moved, slowly if he was honest, to flick the lights in his room on—he’d started working when it was sunny out, so the lights hadn’t been on at all. It was no wonder his eyes hurt so much. He flicked the switch but nothing happened, the electricity nowhere to be seen and the room still dark.

Sighing, he searched the room for candles or a flashlight of some kind but couldn’t find anything. And then he heard the fridge snap shut downstairs and all his attention honed in on it. He made his way to the noise, a sudden jostle of ceramic against itself and the pouring of liquid until he found the kitchen. With his Sweetheart in the middle of it.

The lights were off here as well though a small orb of light was resting just above their head, illuminating their hands and the surfaces they faced. They were doused in the golden light like it was morning and he always felt they were the prettiest in the sunlight. Honestly, they were always pretty.

Sweetheart turned to him, their entire face lit up with a grin, though the lightning was a tad strange, he was less off-put by it than he thought he would be. Especially when they smiled at him like that, vibrant and excited; he hadn’t seen that face in a while and he suddenly realized how much he missed it.

“Come on, come on!” Sweetheart pressed a hot mug into one of his hands and quickly grabbed the other, pulling him out to their backyard. He could hardly see, eyes not quite adjusted, but he could make out two lawn chairs, each with its own side table and thick blanket, sitting in the middle of the grass.

Sweetheart pulled him over and playfully shoved him into one of the seats, grinning at him with cold-brushed cheeks.

He settled, watching his partner from the corner of his eye as they wiggled their shoulders and tucked themself into their seat, fingers wrapped around their mug. He could see the steam rising from its content and he followed it up. And when he did, there was a new sky above him.

Only then did he notice the streetlights were off despite the time of night. In fact, the neighbours, both ways, had their lights off too. That and the lights upstairs. Did something happen and he didn’t even notice?

“Is the power out?” He asked and they shushed him playfully, so he asked it again in a whisper. They smiled at him, nodding slowly before looking up at the stars.

“Yeah, some… malfunction, only in our area.” They sounded wistful, entirely unbothered and Milo felt his heart speed up. “But isn’t it pretty, Milo? It’s so rare with light pollution… but we finally get to see it.” They sighed and he turned from the natural wonder and looked at his own, taking in their rose-coloured cheeks and blushed nose.

“How long were you out here before?” He whispered, reaching out and pressing two fingers to their cheek. They were cold to the touch despite the blankets and the warm drinks. “Don’t think I didn’t see those cheeks, your ears too… you’ll catch a cold, sweetheart.” He warned though it held no heat.

“Just breathe it in, Milo… the beauty of the sky.” They answered and if he knew them well, which he did, he could almost say they were mad. A tightness to their words, almost unconsciously, as their hands tightened around their drink. But at what, he didn’t know. “When have we had a night like this since everything happened? When have we been able to simply exist?”

And there it was.

He looked at them, truly this time, and he finally noticed the set of their brow, the down curve of their mouth as they looked up. They had dark circles under their eyes and he could see how their hands quaked. His heart ached just looking at it, finally seeing the exhaustion of the past months weighing on them, catching them in a moment of weakness.

He reached over and offered his palm. Their fingers settled between his, moulded perfectly, and he squeezed. Their eyes darted to him and he could see the moment of falter before they looked back up at the sky.

They were always so strong, both for him and in general. He fell in love with that strength, that perseverance, and stability. But he knew that its root came from somewhere deep and hurtful, something they clung to in their darkest moments before he ever came around.

They used it to prove themself, but that was so hard when there was no more monster to fight, just the aftermath in everyones’ heads. And as much as he treasured it, their strength couldn’t fix that alone. And he knew they hated that.

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s not that simple. It’s still there, buried a little deeper… but it’s still there.” The ‘it’ he was talking about remained unexplained, but they knew.

They looked over at him, fully, their eyes as glossy as his—he could see the stars reflected in their blown-wide pupils. “But I appreciate it… I appreciate you. And all you’ve done for us.” He lifted their hand, pressed a kiss to every single knuckle and knew it wouldn’t be enough to express his gratitude. So he did it again. “For me.”

“There ain’t a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you. For the pack too.” They muttered, voice thick with tears and he smiled, feeling his own draw lines down his face. They laughed, small but there, filling the silent night with the blessed sound. “I love you, Greer. And no horror imaginable is going to take that from me.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He sighed, tipping closer to them, over his armrest as they followed until their heads pressed together. “I know.”