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writing-whump · 7 days ago

Note

Hey hey! I know you’ve got some plotty plans going on so no pressure, but I would love to see a good old fashioned sibling bond between Gabe and Adam!! Maybe one of them isn’t feeling great for a slightly funny or embarrassing reason and the other has to go from “teasing mode” to “concerned but hiding it”?

Here you go, anon! This got a little more angsty than I intended, but I think it needed to be said. Also bonus that I was able to add Adam in a suit for @bellysoupset

Raising the Bar

“So, Logan can’t come after all. She’s tied up in a meeting.” Gabe grimaced at his brother, as if seeking agreement that was the worst news he’d heard all day.

“Damn, that sucks,” Adam said sympathetically. He didn’t bother to mention that he’d had no idea Logan had been planning to join them in the first place. When Gabe had invited him to see his office and then go to happy hour, Adam assumed it would just be the two of them. He’d been looking forward to it, and was secretly relieved Logan wouldn’t be there.

But Gabe was looking like someone had kicked his puppy at the thought of not being with his girlfriend. So maybe it was the worst news he’d had all day and if so, well good for Gabe. Adam was still trying to figure out this new version of his older brother, one who’d been dating the same woman for over a year and seemed perfectly happy about it. Until Logan, none of Gabe’s relationships lasted longer than three or four months, and often a lot less. LIke a night or two. Back then, Gabe was always up for staying until last call, last overtime, last man standing.

And now? Well, Adam was trying not to be bothered by the change, even if he didn’t understand it. Gabe wasn’t Rory; he didn’t need a girlfriend. But he had one now, and Adam didn’t want to look like a total ass complaining about it. He’d certainly gotten more than enough grief from Morrison on that topic. What was wrong with spending a fun night together anyway? It didn’t always have to mean something. Now he gazed critically at his brother.

“Since when do you wear a fleece vest to work?” he asked, punching Gabe lightly on the arm. “Finance bro much?”

Gabe smirked. “You know it. And what about you? Power suit every single day?” He flicked the end of Adam’s subtly patterned navy tie. “Let me guess, Armani?”

“Gotta look the part.” Adam shot back. “About time you gave up your snapbacks and college gear.” This felt better, this banter. Gabe had been giving Adam a hard time about his wardrobe since high school and he was more than happy to return the favor. “Did one of the partners finally teach you how to dress?”

“Nah, Logan took me shopping.” The goofy smile was back on Gabe’s face. “She likes me in vests and button downs.” He smirked. “And out of them even better.”

Adam tried not to roll his eyes too hard. He was used to this behavior with Noa and Rory, and it was a little disconcerting to hear it coming from Gabe. Normally he’d be the one muttering whipped under his breath when Rory would jump up from the sofa to get Noa a drink or whatever.

“Yeah yeah, very cute,” Adam agreed sourly. He didn’t go any further though; it just wasn’t as fun to tease without backup. He wondered if Avery ever gave Rory a hard time at work and then remembered he wasn’t talking to the guy anyway. So who cared.

“So, where are we drinking?” Adam rubbed his hands together. “I’m thirsty.”

Gabe took him to a bar popular with Wall Street types. It was right up Adam’s alley - plenty of handsome, well-dressed men posing for each other and talking self-importantly about business deals. Manicured, ripped, and wealthy. Just what he needed.

They sat at a table near some of Gabe’s associates and ordered bourbon neat. Platters of fancy shrimp sliders and street tacos and bao buns appeared - the “in food” for upscale happy hours these days. And there were warm chocolate chip cookies too for some reason. Whatever; they were delicious.

“So . . .” - Gabe chewed and swallowed a pork-filled bun - “See anyone you like?” He nudged Adam on the arm. “That guy by the wall keeps glancing at you - the one in the blue striped shirt? He’s cute, right?”

Adam supposed the man Gabe pointed out was objectively good looking. Styled brown hair swept back from his forehead, Straight, manscaped brows over dark eyes that darted around and stopped on Adam before moving to scan across the room. Even features that Adam forgot every time he looked away.

“I guess,” he agreed noncommittally. “A little skinny.”

“What? That’s not skinny,” Gabe scoffed. He peered so obviously across the bar that Adam had to kick him under the table.

“Watch it,” he hissed. “I wasn’t planning to pick up anyone tonight.”

“Not someone so skinny at least,” Gabe laughed. “What’s your type these days, more of a linebacker maybe?”

Adam busied himself with a pulled pork taco. “I don’t have a type; you know that.” He washed his food down with the craft beer they’d ordered to drink alongside the bourbon. “But I’m not interested in a caricature of a gay hook-up. That’s boring.” He nodded his head at the guy in the blue shirt, who was staring avidly now. Adam sighed. “LIke that.”

“What, you’re finally getting some standards?” Gabe snorted. “Hot, good in bed, and now you want sparkling conversation too?” He peered carefully at Adam’s face. “Excuse me, who are you and what have you done with my man-whore of a brother?”

Gabe was the only person allowed to call Adam that. And Adam had always been equally colorful about Gabe’s hookups - the shallowness of the girls he slept with went along well with his wardrobe of fraternity t-shirts and basketball shorts. When Adam finally found out about Logan he assumed she was much of the same. Except that when he’d asked - mostly jokingly - if her IQ was higher than her bra size, Gabe had haughtily told him that Logan had graduated summa cum laude from UCLA and was more interested in surfing than shopping. Adam had understood immediately that Gabe’s new girlfriend was off-limits. Still, he didn’t realize just how serious the relationship was until he moved to Boston and met Logan for himself.

She was . . . fine. More than fine, probably. Noa seemed to like her a lot and Adam trusted his sister’s opinion on just about everything. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a permanent thing. He’d never say that to Gabe, of course. But he also didn’t need to spend a lot of time getting to know Logan either.

Now he shrugged. “If I’m going to have breakfast with someone the next morning I want to have something interesting to talk about.” He waved their server over for another order of sliders - brisket this time. The blue-shirted guy had finally walked away and Adam didn’t see anyone else worth investigating right now. Might as well enjoy the food. But his brother wasn’t done with his interrogation, apparently.

“Hmm. And this breakfast is taking place . . . where?” Gabe asked skeptically. He was well aware of Adam’s rule about not having anyone sleep over at his own place. “Are you going out to brunch? Making omelets in his kitchen? Maybe a picnic?”

“Fuck . . . hic . . . you.” Adam took a couple of big gulps of beer to try to clear his hiccups. It made him burp instead, which he supposed was a bit better. Now that he’d decided there was no one at this bar he wanted to impress he might as well be gross. Gabe certainly wouldn’t mind.

Indeed, his brother ignored the belch which was totally like him. But he also waited, watching Adam carefully. Adam finally gave an impatient huff. “So what if I’m not jumping into bed with every cute guy who throws himsel-hic!. . . I mean, who looks my way? Last I checked, you weren’t so into sleeping around a lot anymore either.” Adam hadn’t intended to bring up Logan again, but the point stuck.

“I’m not sleeping around at all anymore,” Gabe corrected quickly. His eyes widened. “Are you saying you’re done with it too? LIke, totally?”

“Oh god, no,” Adam reassured his brother. “I’m not saying . . . no.” There was one last street taco on the plate and he pulled the meat out, considering. His stomach growled at him and he forced out a small burp before shoving the last bite in his mouth. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’m trying . . .” Adam wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, or even what he was thinking. That right now, picking up any of the handsome, but interchangeable, men at this bar felt . . . unnecessary. Or something - was that what he thought? He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Okay.” Gabe picked up his beer and let the matter drop. And Adam was mostly relieved but also a little disappointed. Which was weird, because he really didn’t want to talk about . . . whatever it was. Noa would not have shut up, asking questions, and he would have probably admitted things he didn’t want to and then gotten annoyed. This was better. He rubbed at his chest, finally working up a better burp and sagging a little bit with relief.

Gabe grinned at him and pressed on his own chest, letting out an even louder belch. “Thank fucking god, I needed that,” he sighed, blowing out a breath and not bothering to cover his mouth. “The food here’s good, right? Want to order something off the menu and stay put? I bet I can beat you in trivia.” He gestured at the controller screen on their table.

“You wish,” Adam scoffed. He took off his suit jacket and carefully draped it over the back of his chair and picked up the menu. “The brown butter pumpkin ravioli looks good.”

“Could you order something more gay?” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I’m getting the wagyu burger.”

“Fine, make it two,” Adam huffed. “And the parmesan truffle fries.” He was actually starting to feel kind of full, but wasn’t about to admit it and possibly cut the evening short.

“Of course,” agreed Gabe mildly. “So, head to head? Or d’you want . . .uh oh.” Without waiting for an answer he signaled to someone outside of Adam’s line of sight.

“Sorry,” Gabe muttered to Adam, just as a figure dropped into the seat next to him. Adam didn’t even have to look to know it would be the bland-faced, blue-shirted guy - of course it was.

“I thought maybe you two were together, but no?” Up close Adam could see the guy had a slight underbite, not quite hidden by his five o’clock shadow. Thin lips, parted in a slightly too big smile. He sighed.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Gabe explained quickly, shooting Adam an apologetic look when the guy immediately turned in his seat.

Normally, this would have put him in his element. Being fawned over, especially by a good looking, highly educated man in a sharp suit and well-patterned tie? Well that was Adam’s comfort zone. He could do this with his eyes closed.

Except tonight Adam wanted to just hang out with his brother. It was a rare enough thing to get him alone from Logan these days, and he would have been content to sit and play head to head trivia and not eat any more of his burger because his stomach was kind of aching from the two bites he’d already had.

But here they were, sitting with an eligible option, so it wasn’t like he and Gabe were going to be able to hang out anyway. So Adam took a deep breath, finished his bourbon, and leaned in, opening his dazzling political smile. “Adam Calder. Have I seen you here before?”

Gabe shot him one confused look and then shrugged and went with whatever it was Adam was doing - being Adam. He answered trivia and ordered more beer and only texted Logan once, while Adam was listening with apparent fascination while Brad - of course his name was Brad - talked about his finance job how he was going to start at Harvard business school in the fall, and being a political consultant sounded so interesting; had Adam met anyone famous?

It would have been fine. Boring, but fine. Brad lived only a couple of blocks away so Adam wouldn’t have even had to make up a story about why they couldn’t go to his place. Not someone to have breakfast with, but someone. Fine.

Except his stomach hurt. For a while Adam thought he was just too full, maybe needed to burp, and he could live with that. But the half of the burger and handful of fries he’d managed to eat were sitting in his gut like a brick, on top of all the fancy happy hour food and bourbon and beer. Cramps had been rolling through him at a regular pace for the last half hour and he really wished he could untuck his shirt. Maybe even loosen his belt. But this wasn’t a bar full of construction types, or . . . law enforcement. Whatever. Appearances mattered here, even in front of boring Brad.

“I’ve got to piss; don’t go anywhere.” Brad touched Adam familiarly on the shoulder as he got up and Adam tried not to flinch.

As soon as the guy left, Adam slumped in his seat and dug his fist into the side of his stomach, trying to ease the pain. “Fuck.”

Gabe snorted. “Not until I’m gone, please.” He squinted at Adam. “You okay though? You look kind of sweaty.”

“Stomach’s killing me,” Adam groaned. “Something I ate isn’t sitting well.” He gulped down air and tried to work up a burp, but it fizzled in his throat. “Think we can sneak out before he gets back?”

“Do you want to?” Gabe sounded openly curious. “You’ve certainly been giving out signals that you’d like to go home with him. I thought I’d be the one leaving alone.” He tented his fingers and gazed at his brother. “Did you change your mind? Again? I mean earlier you said you didn’t want any more one night stands.”

“I didn’t say . . . hic . . . never,” Adam responded crossly. He picked up his beer and pressed the side of the glass against his forehead. It didn’t really help ease how overheated he was feeling. “Jus’ not tonight.’

“So why’d you try so hard? Turn on all that Adam Calder charm and shit?” Gabe shoved the rest of his burger in his mouth and sauce dripped down his chin. Adam gulped down. Great. Now he was queasy too.

“I thought you understood how this all works,” he muttered, trying to ignore the way his stomach had decided to start churning on top of the cramps. “You . . . uuURP! . . . you invited the guy over, what was I supposed to do?” The burp finally came up and it eased some of the pressure in his belly, which was good. But it tasted rancid and made him want to gag. He gulped again instead.

“You could say no,” said Gabe pointedly. “End it here and not in bed. Be honest.” He gestured expansively. “That way you don’t have to sneak out in the morning and, what? Ghost him?” He leaned forward. “You can’t tell me there’s never been a single guy you thought about seeing again. If you let yourself want it.”

The nausea was back, but this time it had moved up to his throat. Adam tugged at his tie, trying to ease some of the discomfort. “Even if I did,” he shrugged. “It would just push it off for a couple more days.” His shirt felt like it was sticking to his back. He’d have to put his jacket back on to get out of here. Just the thought made his skin prickle uncomfortably. “You know I don’t do relationships.”

“Neither did I.” Gabe looked at him thoughtfully and if Adam had felt better he probably would have reached out and smacked him or something. His stomach gurgled and he palmed his side.

“Can we go?” he begged shamelessly. Gabe was only twenty months older but right now Adam was happy to let him take control. Brian or Brad or whatever would be back any minute and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up his facade. He grabbed one of the napkins bunched on the table and spit into it.

Gabe didn’t play the older brother that often - to be honest, it had always been more Rory’t thing. But something in Adam’s face obviously convinced him he wasn’t just trying to avoid talking to Brad some more. “Go outside,” he commanded, pushing him on the shoulder. “I’ll pay and make excuses.” When Adam burped thickly over the table, his eyes narrowed. “Or . . . bathroom?”

Adam shook his head miserably. “Outside,” he managed past the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure if his dinner was going to come up or go down but he certainly wasn’t going to find out in some public toilet stall.

Shrugging his coat back on and trying not to cringe at the feeling of it clinging to his skin, he straightened his back and walked straight outside. If anyone looked at him or wondered why he was leaving alone, Adam didn’t really care.

Once outside he kept walking, away from the knots of people waiting at the front for Ubers or friends or whatever. Only when he’d cleared the crowd did he let his posture fall and expression shutter. God he felt sick. The cramps were still pulsing dully somewhere below his belly button but the nausea was his bigger concern now. Adam spit onto the sidewalk and then closed his eyes for a second, concentrating on the urge to burp.

“Are you going to puke?” Gabe’s hand was heavy on his back. “If it’s something you ate it’ll probably feel better to get it out of your system.” He began rubbing up and down, apparently not finished playing the older brother.

Adam was grateful, because he really didn’t feel like doing this alone right now. “Yeah, s-s-soon,” he gagged emptily and then leaned forward to usher up a series of burps. “Hold on.” He pulled off his jacket again, but it wasn’t enough.

Gabe whistled. “Damn, bro. You’re really bloated. Is all that just from what you ate at the bar?”

“Shut . . . uuhLP . . up,” Adam mumbled through a gag. There was an alley to their left and he turned that way. “Here.” He shoved his suit jacket at Gabe and fumbled at his belt. “Need this off.” Behind him, Gabe gave an amused chuckle.

“Do I want to know if this is the first time you’ve taken off your pants in an alley?” he asked. In response, Adam lurched forward and retched.

Gabe swore. “Fuck, you can tell me later.” He went back to rubbing Adam’s back.

Adam gulped down again and then leaned forward to brace his hands on his knees. “Sorry,” he gasped through another dry retch. “Feel like crap.” His stomach twisted and he swayed dizzily, wishing the puking would just start already.

“No shit; you look like hell.” Gabe grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t fall over, please. Mom’ll kill me if I let you get a concussion.”

“Noa too,” Adam croaked, and then his jaw went tingly and heavy. He drooled onto the pavement for a second and then his entire body lurched forward with a productive heave. Remnants of his meal splattered on the ground at his feet. He groaned and burped, feeling even worse somehow. The nausea surged again and he threw up a much bigger gush.

“Oh god,” he groaned, trying to spit out something caught in the back of his throat. Gabe slapped him on the back and Adam burped harshly. The second belch was solid and he spit up a mouthful of beer mixed with barely digested french fries.

It seemed to go on forever, Adam’s stomach trying to turn itself inside out. At one point Gabe pulled him back out of the alley towards the street to get them away from the growing puddle of Adam’s stomach contents. Finally, he straightened up.

“I think that’s most of it,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The crushing nausea was gone and in its place Adam felt as weak as a kitten.

“Here, figured you’d need these.” Gabe produced a handful of napkins from somewhere. “I put water on a couple of them. Wipe your face; you’re a mess.”

“Fuck you,” Adam retorted, but there was no heat to his words. He swayed dizzily for a second while he wiped his face. Gabe held his arm and Adam tried not to admit how much he just wanted to slump against his brother and close his eyes. “I’m ready to go now,” he said instead. “I’ll get an Uber.” Gabe lived in the opposite direction but Adam was pretty sure he could make it home in one piece.

“Yeah, no,” Gabe scoffed. “You’re coming home with me.” He already had his phone out to the app to call a car.

Adam let out a sigh. “Worried about mom again?”

Gabe shook his head. “Nope. I want to keep an eye on you myself.” He tugged gently on Adam’s arm. “I have saltines and tea and shit when you’re ready.”

Adam gagged softly at the mention of food. “Not yet,” he croaked. “But . . . yeah. At some point.” He leaned into Gabe’s side, using his bulk to hold him upright. “Thank you.”

Gabe chuckled. “Any time, Adam. I mean it.”

#I mean Adam...everyone seems boring and forgettable I wonder why 👀#this was super cute #sibling and brotherly things are so up my ally I felt like I got a special treat #loved Adam's thoughts complaining about Gabe being so different with Logan now #how lonely Adam feels though he never says the word #Gabe not pushing with questions lol - Noa would have been able to dig around more #how Adam just wanted to enjoy Gabe instead of the suit up guys around #even Gabe didn't get it lol #playing the big brother when Adam folded with the cramps and nausea was so cool though #I get it more now with such a small age difference #they feel like triplets #how Adam didn't want to do things alone the night 🥺#on the street instead of a stall #Gabe being so unborthered the whole time rubbing his back #or slaming when needed 😂#and then taking Adam home not even hiding behind excuses 🥺❤️😂#Adam just wanting to slump against him #Gabe holding him up by the arm 🥺#what a treat indeed✨️❤️#gonna be one of my new faves to reread

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writing-whump · 8 days ago

Text

Send a symbol for your muse to gently touch mine by:

❥ : tucking stray hair behind their ear

✿ : trailing soft kisses down their arm

☁ : cuddling with them under a blanket

★ : pressing a kiss to the back of their hand

▲ : leaning your head against their shoulder

♪ : singing them a lullaby and brushing their hair

◆ : wrapping your arms around them from behind

✤ : lacing your fingers into theirs and holding their hands

♣ : slowly pulling them into your lap to curl up and cuddle

▨ : rubbing their back to calm them down when they’re upset

▰ : embracing them and holding them firmly against your chest

#prompts #fluff

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writing-whump · 8 days ago

Note

Honestly I would love to see Dylan get sick/injured and Rip have to learn to take care of him or something similar, honestly anything with Rip and Dylan 😅, they might have become my favorites 😁

Thank you for the request! Here is some sick congested Dylan doing some huge steps on his journey, Rip trying to be a better caretaker—and helping Isaiah and Dylan bond in his own way.

Slightly elevated

"Damn it all."

Rip looked up from his spot, perched up on the window still towards the bathroom.

Dylan didn't swear that much. Or maybe he did, depending on people he was with. He was very careful not to swear around his sister, but Rip heard him swear like a sailman when playing online games.

It made the smaller wolf wonder how Dylan would act around him. Dylan didn't seem to control himself or hold back in any special amounts when the two were together. He was relaxed and loose and Rip liked to think Dylan was himself the most.

That self did not involve swearing if he didn't just spend a couple hours on tiktok.

Rip himself did not know what he wanted to do. He hadn't given it any thought before. Swearing had been second nature on the streets. A special treat, really, cause it implied you had someone to swear to.

Fleeting moments of company and understanding sometimes shared only through the eloquent 'fuck'.

There was nothing like a policy in Isaiah's pack against swearing, but it was noticeable Isaiah and Seline rarely did.

Isaiah to be polite and Seline out of more judgmental reasons—then again, it showed her skill with words. She could use 100 different words for the purposes Rip would have been fine using a swear word for.

Rip had watched and listened to them talk during the trip and it had been insightful in many ways. Hector definitely swore a lot. Alessia wouldn't shy away, though Rip thought it was more of an effort to seem bold than actually being that comfortable with it.

He didn't know how he came to the conclusion. All he could do was listen and hone instincts, but he had no idea if he was right.

He wasn't used to second-guessing himself so much before. If his skills would be enough, if had the experience with people he needed to feed his intuition. If what he realized actually were realisations or just illusions in his head.

But this place, this pack, were a place of order, civility and cleanliness and Rip grew to like that a lot. That's why he liked to keep their apartment tidy, that's why he copied how Isaiah spoke when he wasn't sure how to reply. And that's why he swore a lot less too.

Not because they made him, but because it felt like a choice he could afford now. There were other ways he could express himself.

If he figured them out.

Dylan emerged from the bathroom in a white button up with red lilies, throwing out his hands. "I can't breathe."

Rip immediately rose to his feet in alarm. "You can't breathe? What's wrong? Do you need-"

"No, not like that," Dylan waved him off with an amused huff. "I think I caught a cold. My nose is all stuffed up."

Rip let out a relieved breath, almost stumbling back against the window still. "Jesus. Don't scare me."

"Relax, mother-hen," Dylan said with a grin, then turned to look at himself in the body-sized mirror that newly hang from the wall. "Such a bad timing though."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a job interview," Dylan said with a snicker, winking at his reflection.

Rip's breath caught, but he turned to the side quickly to mask his surprise. "Really? Where?" He tried very hard to make his voice sound absolutely normal. Like this was mundane as weather and not his best friend with depression looking for a job after two years at home.

"Well okay, it's more of a practical course for a personal trainer at the gym, but I can do my practice and theory there and get a job too. If I get clients to pick me."

Rip fumbled to lean against the wall instead of accidently falling through the window, crossing his hands on his chest to settle them. "When did this happen?"

"This morning. They want an interview, but really the course is paid—my dad will bitch about it for sure—but if it lands, I can pay him back!" Dylan sounded incredibly pleased with the idea, rightening his collar and putting on a gold chain on he got as a birthday gift from his parents.

"Sounds...fun." Rip wanted to knock himself in the head. Was that what you told people when they went to get a job? It will be fun? Good luck?

"I hope so," Dylan said, getting his shoes on, then walking back to the kitchen for a paper towel.

Rip wanted to remind him of the dirt he was spreading with the shoes that way but bit his tounge. No way he was ruining such an exciting moment for them.

Dylan blew his nose vigoursly and painfully, but nothing came up. He regarded the results critically, making Rip cringe as he balled the paper up and threw it on the counter. "Gonna be late. See ya!"

Rip rolled his eyes as the door crashed close, taking a new paper towel to pick up after Dylan, smiling to himself the whole time.

...

When Rip told Seline the news, she tackled him in a tight hug. Dylan apparently meant to tell her only if it worked out, but even the attempt counted to Rip.

Secretly, Rip and Seline became conspirators on Dylan's health, trading info and observations. Rip liked to check in with her in the mornings or evenings before he went to Isaiah to report something.

The visits became a tradition after Matthew's departure, evolving from Dylan and Rip regularly visiting to ensure Isaiah was up and Seline wasn't sulking. If the two were left to their own devices, they might not have spoken for days in a row. Dylan could talk for all four of them, though. Something about his voice seemed to warm up the room.

Seline immediately called up her grandfather and chatted with him in Slovak. He wasn't in the mood to return to the empty apartment and he felt...strangely welcome? Well, he didn't feel unwelcome, so he stayed in the trio's—ah, now only Isaiah and Sel's—apartment. Dylan would have raided the kitchen by now and while Rip was more shy about it, he was hungry too.

Isaiah said nothing when he came, raising an eyebrow at Seline sprawled out on the couch, talking with lightning speed in gibberish.

Rip braced himself for getting a scolding for sneaking portion of the spaghetti from the fridge. In Isaiah's style, it wouldn't be yelling, but more likely a long look or a slight scrunching of the nose. But Rip would know.

Isaiah regarded him, but his face was carefully neutral as he got his own portion. He reached over Rip's bowl and Rip closed his eyes on instinct, thinking the food would be taken away in silence.

Instead, Isaiah added some grated cheese on top.

Rip felt his face heat up in embarrassment at the weird reaction, but Isaiah just shrugged with a small smile and returned to his seat.

Dylan came two hours later—Seline was still on the phone, hungry and bright-eyed, joining them at the table.

"-so there are different base trainings according to body type, goal, health, age. You basically try to adjust it as specifically as the client wants." Dylan sniffled, brushing his nose into his sleeve. It was constantly running now as development from early morning.

Isaiah stayed at the table, listening, though Rip could tell he was tense, legs shifted to the side, ready to leave any second. Dylan obviously didn't realize without such close attunement as Rip and Isaiah shared, which made Rip strangely proud and forlorn at the same time.

Did he ever hear Isaiah talk to Dylan at all? The Executioner never mentioned him, although he shared his thoughts about different wolves and packs with Rip freely, in the spirit of explaining to him their background and what to watch out for. The absence of an analysis was what made it strange.

A loud burst of laughter sounded from the living room, making all three wolves jump up.

Rip looked towards Seline and back to Dylan and Isaiah's carefully averted gaze. He never heard the witch laugh like that with anyone else.

Rip swallowed heavily. "...is she still talking to your grandfather?"

Dylan grinned. "Yep. You'd better leave the house when that starts; it can go on for hours."

Rip's eyes flashed to Isaiah and back at Dylan. Isaiah's expression didn't change, still pretending like that he wasn't interested, but he was more alert at once.

"Something important to discuss?" Rip's heart thumped louder in his ears. He wasn't one to be nosy, and it felt more than private given the language...but this was one undeniable common interest he could see between the two most important people in his life and he wasn't about to waste the chance.

"Ah, you know. Anything Seline is currently thinking about goes through thorough consultation with mom and gramps," Dylan said with a shrug, unconcerned. His brown eyes flickered towards Isaiah and away, uncharacteristically timid.

Rip really really didn't want to know more, cringing as he continued: "Like what?"

Dylan stopped eating, listening intently for a while. "Job hunt, money, future, how not to worry, how to deal with unfair colleague emails,..." he glanced at Isaiah more openly now.

Isaiah's eyebrows raised. "Me?"

Dylan cleared his throat. "You don't have to worry about not being taken seriously, y'know? She has been in stitches about what you said in Italy. Bought two new books on relationship psychology and this is the 2rd time I know of talking it over with gramps."

Isaiah shrank back in his chair, blanching a little. "Wait, you...know?"

Dylan and Rip exchanged an awkward glance. "We all know. You said it in the middle of the night in an apartment filled with wolves, man."

Isaiah coughed into his elbow, loosening the collar around his neck like it was suddenly way hotter in the room despite the continuous drizzle outside, bathing the room in a muted gray light.

Rip shuffled his feet. He would rather get his eyes poked out than talk about anything relating to the love life of the man who was practically his boss. Isaiah’s love confession wasn't a joke. Rip had no idea what you were supposed to react when someone said something that raw by accident...and everyone overheared.

Dylan quickly waved his hand. "She is talking a lot about Matt leaving too, don't worry!"

Isaiah didn't look comforted by the comparison.

Rip, who was sitting opposite Isaiah until now, got up restlessly, pacing behind Dylan's chair. Maybe they could just go already, opportunity or not.

Isaiah cleared his throat. "Is that...normal?"

Dylan leaned back in his chair. "For Seline? Yes, absolutely. Don't worry about it, this is her usual process of working through something important. You definitely got a high spot on the list." Dylan even added a wink that made Rip groan and hide his face in his hands. He was seriously considering plugging his ears or jumping out the nearest window.

"Okay," Isaiah said. "Thanks, I guess?"

Dylan smiled at him widely. "No problem. I'm actually cheering for you guys. If anyone can get through to her, I'm betting it's you."

Isaiah's composure was coming back as he crossed one leg over the other, leaning back with a huff. "How so?"

Dylan pointed his thumb at the living room. "If that didn’t scare you off, then… congrats. You’re probably right for her."

Isaiah snorted softly, but didn’t reply.

Rip watched him from the side, pulse ticking a little too loud in his ears. Isaiah’s careful silence. Dylan’s grin that wavered just a little.

He could feel the distance between them—like Isaiah was holding something back, weighing every word too carefully. Maybe because it was Seline. Maybe because Dylan had always been more open than Isaiah knew what to do with.

Rip wanted to smooth it over somehow. Say something that would make it easier. But the topic still made his ears burn, and he didn’t trust his voice not to crack.

So he stayed quiet, hoping Isaiah would find a way on his own.

Dylan suddenly lifted his eyes, laughing at Rip's expression. The tall brown-haired wolf had no problems reading Rip, that was clear. He turned his head towards Isaiah. "I actually meant to ask you about...you know, as a wolf, do you know..."

It was Isaiah's turn to narrow his eyes and look attentive at Dylan's hesitation. Even mildly interested.

"What kind of things do I watch out for that will be different for me as a wolf when working with humans? Or with wolves? When I design the trainings," Dylan shuffled around for his bag to show Isaiah the charts he got today about different body part workouts and abilities, spilling them over the table.

Isaiah pushed his chair closer, studying the charts.

Rip let out a breath behind them. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. A laugh, maybe. Or one sentence that proved Isaiah didn’t just tolerate Dylan, but liked him. That would’ve been enough.

This was as good a start as any.

...

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the faint sound of Seline’s laughter still drifting from across the hall. Their own apartment felt dimmer, quieter. The lights hummed faintly in the entryway, casting pale reflections on the floor.

Dylan didn’t bother taking off his shoes right away. He leaned his back against the wall, eyes squinting like the hallway light hurt. His shoulders sagged in a way Rip didn’t like.

"You good?" Rip asked, watching him carefully.

"Yup," Dylan said, voice raw and half-swallowed by congestion. "Absolutely thriving. Don’t mind me, just dying."

He pushed off the wall and shuffled toward the couch like an old man, hoodie half-zipped, socks slightly damp from where he'd stepped into a puddle earlier. The taller wolf kicked off his shoes, then immediately flopped face-first onto the couch.

Rip hesitated in the hallway, eyes scanning over him. "You need anything?"

"New head," came the muffled reply.

Rip rolled his eyes, but it was more fond than annoyed. He headed to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water and a damp cloth. Dylan hadn’t moved.

"Sit up."

"No."

"Then turn over. You look like roadkill."

Dylan groaned dramatically but shifted, rolling onto his side. His face was flushed, and his eyes looked glassy and unfocused.

Rip handed him the water, which he took with a grateful grunt, then pressed the cloth against Dylan’s forehead. Dylan flinched at first, then sighed, eyelids fluttering shut.

"This is weird," Dylan muttered after a moment. "You being all nice."

"I can take it back."

"No, no. It’s a nice weird. Don’t stop."

Rip gave a noncommittal hum, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over Dylan’s legs. Dylan reached out, clumsily grabbing the edge and tugging it tighter.

"You didn’t have to carry my bag."

"You looked like you were gonna fall over if I didn't."

"Still." Dylan cracked an eye open. "You usually wait until I’m worse."

Rip sat down on the floor, resting his back against the couch. It was a long day and the emotional rollercoaster left him more exhausted than an all-day workout. "I care more than I know how to show."

Dylan was quiet for a beat. Then, "You’re doing fine."

Rip exhaled slowly, letting the soft hum of rain against the windows fill the silence. Dylan’s breathing evened out behind him, heavy and congested, but steady.

He stayed like that until he was sure Dylan had fallen asleep—then got up quietly to fetch another blanket, just in case.

It wasn’t much. But Dylan let himself lean. It was the first time Rip realized he could catch him.

#finally figured out a summary lol

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writing-whump · 10 days ago

Note

Honestly I would love to see Dylan get sick/injured and Rip have to learn to take care of him or something similar, honestly anything with Rip and Dylan 😅, they might have become my favorites 😁

Slightly elevated

"Damn it all."

Rip looked up from his spot, perched up on the window still towards the bathroom.

Dylan didn't swear that much. Or maybe he did, depending on people he was with. He was very careful not to swear around his sister, but Rip heard him swear like a sailman when playing online games.

That self did not involve swearing if he didn't just spend a couple hours on tiktok.

Fleeting moments of company and understanding sometimes shared only through the eloquent 'fuck'.

There was nothing like a policy in Isaiah's pack against swearing, but it was noticeable Isaiah and Seline rarely did.

He didn't know how he came to the conclusion. All he could do was listen and hone instincts, but he had no idea if he was right.

Not because they made him, but because it felt like a choice he could afford now. There were other ways he could express himself.

If he figured them out.

Dylan emerged from the bathroom in a white button up with red lilies, throwing out his hands. "I can't breathe."

Rip immediately rose to his feet in alarm. "You can't breathe? What's wrong? Do you need-"

"No, no like that," Dylan waved him off with an amused huff. "I think I caught a cold. My nose is all stuffed up."