16. Growing Closer

16

GROWING CLOSER

They didn't end up talking about Wren's heat.

Fang woke with Wren pressed snug against his front, sleeping so peacefully that he almost didn't even dare to breathe, wanting to hold Wren close for as long as he could.

Wren felt so good like this: a perfect shape in Fang's arms, small and delicate but oh so brave.

Fang remembered last night. Gods, did he remember.

He remembered Wren's lightning-and-ozone scent, the incredible richness of his musky arousal, the scent of his slick and cum thick in Fang's lungs.

He remembered Wren shaking beneath him, his head tipped back, throat bared, begging Please please please I need your cock.

He remembered the hot, tight clutch of Wren's body, taking every inch. And he remembered filling Wren up, his knot locking inside Wren in the most perfect joining.

Fang had never felt more needed in his life. Wren clawing at his back to drag him closer, Wren biting down on his shoulder, trying to stifle his moans. Wren clinging to him, his cheeks flushed, his face so open, like he trusted Fang to give him everything he craved.

Fang almost wanted Wren to remain in heat forever, just so he could always have Wren needing him so badly.

Slowly, so he didn't wake Wren, he pressed his palm over Wren's heart. It fluttered rabbit-quick against his skin. Then he slipped his hand lower, down Wren's stomach to his belly, and stopped there.

If Wren got pregnant from last night, if he kept the baby and let Fang be part of their lives... He would be giving Fang a pack of his own. A tiny pack, but it'd still be a pack.

Fang's throat tightened. There were so many ifs.

Someone made a sound behind him. When Fang looked over his shoulder, he found Steffie as an golden-orange bird in the crib, her feathery crown quivering with each movement.

"Hey," he murmured, reluctant to untangle himself from Wren.

She clicked her beak unhappily and flapped her wings, tangled in her bedclothes.

Fang sighed. "Looks like you need some help, huh?"

He nuzzled the back of Wren's head and filled his lungs with Wren's scent, before carefully peeling himself away. When he'd put on a pair of underwear, Fang went to Steffie, gently freeing the blanket and clothes around her wings. She trilled and flapped her wings excitedly.

"Must feel good to not be tied down, huh?" Fang ran his knuckles over her feather crown, unable to help his smile.

Except she chose that moment to tip her head back, opening her mouth expectantly.

"Damn it. I guess you need to be fed. I'm not regurgitating anything for you, even if you're special."

Before he could head to the kitchen to search for baby food, Wren stirred.

Fang paused, watching as Wren blinked and squinted around himself. "Steffie?"

Steffie chirped and flapped her wings. Wren's eyes snapped wide open.

"Damn it, sweetheart," Wren said, almost falling out of bed. "We can't do that in public, or you'll be in danger."

"Think she'll have to be homeschooled?" Fang asked.

Wren sighed. "It's possible. But maybe... Quin and the rest might home school their kids too? She could join them, so at least she won't be alone."

"Sounds like a good idea." Fang glanced at Wren's belly.

Wren didn't see that look. Instead, he stumbled out of bed to the kitchen. Fang handed him an open jar of baby food, along with his underwear.

Wren blushed and looked so adorable that Fang's heart skipped a beat.

Fang left him to feed Steffie, pulling out milk and OJ from the fridge. Then he began cooking eggs, plating them for whenever Wren was ready.

Some time later, Wren emerged from the bedroom, half-dressed with a baby bird in his arms. "I'm not sure how we're going to pack. Not all of my things are fireproof."

"How ‘bout I go through them, and you tell me what you want to keep, and what you want to throw away?"

Gratitude flashed through Wren's face. "If you don't mind."

"Sure. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Fang boiled some water and put in a teabag to steep, watching Wren from the corner of his eye. Especially when Wren popped a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth for the first time.

Wren moaned, his mouth curving into a smile. "This is so good."

"Yeah? You like it?"

Wren cracked his eyes open, meeting Fang's gaze. They didn't look away from each other for a very long time.

Fang thought about making Wren more eggs just to hear that sound again, except Wren lowered his gaze, feeding Steffie some of his eggs. "You should try this, sweetheart. It's good."

Steffie swallowed the eggs with great relish.

"Do you find it strange? Feeding eggs to a bird?"

Wren made a face. "I try not to think too much about it. Besides, these are chicken eggs."

Fang offered him some buttered toast with strawberry preserves; Wren ate those, too.

"What about pie?"

Wren rubbed his stomach wistfully. "I can't. Maybe for lunch?"

"Sure."

Soon after breakfast, they began sorting and packing. Fang was glad he'd brought along some moving boxes since there weren't many in the apartment at all.

"We should just throw most of this away," Wren blurted. "It's not like I have anywhere to put them in Cartfalls."

Fang raised an eyebrow. "I have storage space in my garage."

Wren squirmed and peeked at Fang. "Um. That's... That's asking too much of you, isn't it?"

Fang rumbled. "Depending on how long you stay—" he dropped his gaze pointedly to Wren's abdomen "—I could hold them for a while."

"I'm still not thinking about it!" Wren squeaked.

"I'm not saying you have to. I'm just telling you not to rush into getting rid of things. Especially if they're irreplaceable."

Wren took a few deep breaths, his pulse slowing to something resembling normal. "Okay. Okay. Maybe I can have three piles instead? One for throwing away, one for maybe keeping, and one for stuff I can't leave without."

"Sounds good." Fang did not mention that if Wren had gone into heat yesterday, his heat should've carried over into today, and possibly even tomorrow. But right now, Wren was clear-headed, and he didn't smell like arousal at all.

Fang swallowed hard.

If Wren didn't want the baby... then Fang would beg him to carry it to term, just so he could have the cub after it was born.

They began with the things in Wren's bedroom. Wren held Steffie in his lap while Fang pulled out one thing after another, waiting for Wren to decide before placing it in one of his piles.

They were making good progress, until Fang pulled out an old book of fairy tales and Wren froze.

Fang hesitated. "Want to talk about it?"

"That was my mom's," Wren said slowly, his pulse going uneven. His scent darkened into the heavy note of grief. "She used to read it to me and Marie, but the stories didn't have happy endings. She just liked them because they were weird."

"Yeah? My mom has a book like that, too."

For a second, envy flitted through Wren's eyes. "Your mom is still alive?" Wren winced. "Wait, that came out wrong—"

"It's okay." Fang set the book in the Keep pile and got to his feet, crossing the room to where Wren was holding onto Steffie for dear life. He sat down next to Wren on the bed, wrapping his arm around him. "It's okay if you need to cry for a bit. Or if you want a big hug, or anything else at all. Just say the word, and it's yours."

Wren blew out a shuddering breath and leaned in, hiding his face against Fang's neck.

"Here, hang on a sec," Fang murmured. He took Steffie out of Wren's arms, placing her back in the crib. Then he scooped Wren onto his lap and drew him close, wrapping his arms around Wren's small body.

It never failed to strike him, how perfectly Wren fit into his arms.

Wren clung to him like a barnacle. He breathed for long seconds against Fang's shoulder, and Fang smelled the salt of his tears. So he rubbed Wren's back firmly, holding him close.

"My mom was very sick when I was a pup," Fang said slowly. "She had cancer—the curable sort. But it took years and years of treatments, of going to the hospital with her and holding her hand, watching her grow weaker. It's hard to watch someone you love wither away before your eyes. School was tough for me; no one understood what I was going through. I didn't really make friends."

"But she got better?" Wren mumbled into Fang's shoulder.

"Eventually she did," Fang said, breathing a sigh. "And she relapsed, too."

Wren's fingers dug into Fang's sides; he sucked in a sharp breath.

"I was in elementary school the first time it happened. The second time, I was in my last year of middle school, going into high school. She recovered, and it's been in remission ever since, but a lot of my hometown memories are tainted by those times in my life. I don't really like spending time there, but I go back to visit her and my dad often."

Wren exhaled. "I'm glad they're still alive."

"Me too. And I'm sure they'd be your parents, too, if you want."

Wren didn't move, but Fang heard the way his pulse stumbled.

They leaned into each other for a long, quiet stretch, just breathing, with Steffie babbling quietly in the background. Then, Wren sucked in a slow breath.

"My dad died first," Wren said quietly, his voice ragged. "He was a computer technician, an electronics whisperer. He was mugged on Yuletide Eve and he didn't make it home. Mom and Marie and I were all waiting. Except a policeman rang the doorbell."

Fang imagined being in Wren's shoes, his breath hitching. "That's terrible."

"Yeah." Wren nuzzled closer to him. "And—and my mom... She was a mage, she was so powerful. But she didn't do so well after she lost my dad. She fell sick and just... never recovered. Marie and I spent a lot of time in the hospital, too. Between Mom and Dad's passing, we didn't really have much left after they were gone. It was just me and Marie relying on each other, until Marie finally found a boyfriend and got married."

Fang's heart ached. He brushed his fingers through Wren's hair, dropping soft kisses on his head. "Were they happy?"

"My parents, yeah. Marie and her husband, too. But Marie and Sam went missing two months ago, and they had their friend bring Steffie to me." Wren made a soft, broken sound. "They knew they weren't going to make it out alive."

Fang tightened his arms around Wren. "How did they manage to contact anyone to tell them about Steffie?"

"I don't know."

"Did anyone find their murderers?"

Wren hunched his shoulders. "I don't know that, either. Marie texted me and told me to hide. If the bad guys can kill a phoenix, they're not gonna spare anyone else."

Fang stiffened. "How did they even kill—"

"I don't want to know." Wren shuddered. "I thought Sam would've survived, but he didn't come back."

Fang hugged him tight, staring at Steffie innocently chewing the corner of her pillow. Phoenixes were rare, little known about them. "Do you think... maybe Sam might've been resurrected as a baby?"

"I thought he would've... come back as an adult," Wren mumbled tearfully. "I don't know."

Fang filed the thought in his mind, to revisit at a later time. There wasn't much he could do now but to comfort Wren, and make him feel safe again. "Tell me what you need."

"I don't know."

Fang continued to hug Wren and rub his back. When Wren had calmed down somewhat, Fang brought him back to the kitchen, where he heated some milk in the microwave and stirred hot chocolate mix into it.

"Awhh!" Steffie cried, not wanting to be left behind in the bedroom.

Fang pressed the mug into Wren's hands. "Sip it slowly. It's still hot."

While Wren drank his hot chocolate, Fang went back to retrieve Steffie. He placed her in a high chair, and Wren leaned in close, sniffing at her rumpled clothes.

"Why don't we deal with some simpler things," Fang suggested. "In the living room."

With Wren's input, they sorted most of the things into Wren's Keep and Discard piles. Fang packed the important items into the boxes he'd brought, before emptying the kitchen cabinets. By the time they were done, Wren looked better, his cheeks rosy, his posture straighter than before.

"Ready to go back to your bedroom?" Fang asked gently.

Wren's expression softened. "Yes."

This time, Wren only took a few deep breaths when Fang held up his most sentimental items.

They were done by evening, Wren leaning into Fang's side as Fang stroked his back, all his things taped into a few cardboard boxes.

"Will they fit in your car?" Wren asked doubtfully. "That's a lot of boxes."

Fang had packed them full to the brim, with clothes wrapped around the fragile items. "I'll just have to move some things around. The backseat can hold a lot more, and we can stack the boxes in the trunk all the way to the roof."

He hadn't expected to, but he'd learned a lot about Wren just by going through his belongings. Like how Wren loved nonfiction books about magic, tiny knitted cacti, cute enamel pins, and rainbow-colored stuffed toys.

"We're not leaving now, right?" Wren's forehead crinkled. "I can't decide if it's a good thing to drive at night."

Fang shook his head. "We'll set off first thing in the morning, after some good rest. And... another tumble in bed, if you feel so inclined."

Wren swallowed, his scent growing sweet.

Fang smiled. "How do you feel about parmesan-crusted chicken, with fluffy mashed potatoes on the side?"

Wren's eyes grew round. "You'll make that?"

"I'll make any food that you want more of."

Wren gave a small, shy smile. His heart thumping, Fang reached over, dragging the pad of his thumb down Wren's throat.

Wren tilted his head to bare his neck.

"Fuck, you don't know what you do to me," Fang murmured, crowding against him. "I want to mark you all over with my scent. Suck hickies into your throat. Make sure everyone knows to stay away from you."

Wren's gaze flicked up to his, his heartbeat growing fast. "We're—I mean, me and you. We're not... Are we?"

"What would you like?" Fang asked, barely breathing.

"We don't know each other very well."

"But we can get to know each other very well. And after that... I would like to mark you as mine."

Wren blushed. Fang's instincts pressed under his skin, needing to claim.

As a compromise, he smoothed his palms over Wren's shoulder, down his arms and his back, before cupping his face and stroking his fingertips over Wren's lips.

"So beautiful," Fang whispered.

"I'm—" Doubt crept into Wren's voice.

"You're you. You're amazing," Fang growled. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even yourself."

Wren frowned. "You can't stop me from doing that."

"I'm damn well going to try." Fang leaned in, dropping a quick kiss on Wren's soft lips. Then he retreated to the kitchen, to cook dinner.

Wren was nervous and uncertain. But his scent was about to change, and Fang wasn't going to leave him unprotected, not even for a single minute.