Fic: They Just Howl
They Just Howl
by irisgirl12000 and why_me_why_not
bandom || Empires + Jon Walker, mentions of TAI || teen || ~3100 words
Disclaimer: FALSEHOODS AND LIES! Not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Summary: Werewolf AU of sorts. Tom has been on his own since getting kicked out of William's pack.
A/N: Blame shutyourface. If you see any errors, please point them out. Werewolves are based off the werewolves in the Dresden Files, which is all why_me_why_not's influence. If you are one of those mentioned in this fic, or if you personally know those someones, please hit the back button or at least don't tell us about it.
Tom's pretty much stuck to himself since he quit running with William's pack. He knows it's dangerous, knows lone wolves are more likely to be picked off by Hunters or hunted down by Alphas who feel threatened by them, but he's not ready to be part of a pack again. It's not that he wants to be an Alpha himself; he doesn't want a pack of his own gained by either coercion or force. He has no problem being an underling. He just doesn't want to go through that again, proving himself and earning acceptance into a pack only to be forced out. If the end result is the same, he may as well just stay alone.
He’s not completely alone. He has Jon, who has always been a friend to Tom and who just laughed - wide eyed and delighted - when he found out Tom was a wolf. He never questioned it, never made Tom feel different, and never seemed bothered by the fact that he couldn't turn. He looked out for Tom - for all of them - and Tom really kinda wishes he was here now instead of off in LA or NYC or Vegas, wherever he and Cassie are this week.
What Tom misses most is cuddling - hey, it's an instinct! - having another warm body pressed up against his, all warm and furry and so close it's hard to tell them apart. Even before things went all to shit with his pack - his former pack, he reminds himself - they had already started to pull away from him. The tension between him and Carden had affected them all, even Sisky, who was generally happy as long as he got a decent supply of snuggles and belly rubs. So it's been a long while since Tom's had that, had someone to share himself with. The random hookups, the girls and the occasional guy, do little to appease his craving for contact, especially since he can't turn into wolf form in front of a random stranger. ("Oh, hi, I know you said you were into kinky shit... how do you feel about wolves?") He would totally take advantage of Jon and Cassie if they were home, but they're not. Tom tries not to think about it as he pulls his jacket tighter around him. Fucking Chicago weather.
Tom's startled when he runs directly into someone on the sidewalk in front of his favorite Starbucks - he and Jon used to work here, and despite how much the manager complained about them then, she gives them free coffee whenever they stop by - but when the person he ran into looks up, he realizes he shouldn't have been surprised.
“By yourself today?” he asks, trying to sound casual even though he's really not sure if it's okay to be friendly with a stalker.
The man just smiles, that infuriatingly open happy smile that Tom swears he's been seeing in his dreams lately. Tom knows his name is Sean, heard one of the other guys call him that, but he refuses to even associate the name in his mind until they're properly introduced. Stalker.
“I am by myself,” the stalker finally admits. “And so are you. Wanna keep me company for a while?”
Tom always says no every time this offer comes up. And it's been coming up a lot lately.
Tom's not sure where or why he acquired a band of stalkers, but he has. Obviously, saying no hasn't worked to get rid of them. Neither has ignoring them. Maybe it's time to try a different approach. He tells himself that's the only reason he shakes his head but still says, “Sure, why not?”
He admits he's a little disappointed that Sean doesn't seem surprised by his acceptance, just puts his hand on Tom's back like he has any right to touch - seriously, Tom can feel himself tense up and he has to fight to hold back a growl - and steers him towards Starbucks. “Let me buy you a coffee.”
Tom doesn't bother to tell him he never pays for coffee. Let the stalker spend his money.
“So,” the stalker says, once they've picked up their drinks and made their way to a corner table. “I'm Sean Van Vleet. And I'm glad you finally agreed to hang out with me.”
“I'm hoping it'll get you off my back,” Tom says, scooting back so their feet aren’t touching beneath the table.
“You don’t really want us to leave you alone.” Sean sounds completely convinced, and the look he’s giving Tom would be charming if Tom wasn’t so unsettled by him. Sean leans back and takes a sip of his coffee, watching Tom. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
There’s no doubt in Tom’s mind that Sean knows his name; he’s also certain Sean knows his schedule and the paths he takes to and from work. Still, he’s willing to play along. “Thomas Conrad.”
“Well, Tom, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sean doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that Tom doesn’t answer him. The silence between them should feel uncomfortable - being in the presence of other people does that to Tom, he can’t help it - but it doesn’t really. Tom’s watching the girl behind the counter attempting to flirt - and failing - with one of the customers when Sean speaks up again. “I have to go meet Ryan, but you’re welcome to come along.”
Tom shakes his head. He doesn’t know which one of the others is Ryan, but he’s really had enough weirdness for today.
“Yeah, I figured.” Sean pushes back from the table and stands up. “I’ll see you around, Tom.”
Tom watches him walk out and wonders if maybe he should have taken him up on the offer, because suddenly he’s lonely again.
The next day, he’s a little late when he gets to the small park down the block from photo shop. He usually takes lunch here, sharing his sandwich with the ducks and enjoying the sunshine. Sometimes, when Jon’s in town, he’ll come along and Tom’ll be able to change, roll around in the grass and let the sun warm his fur, and really, it’s more like being a dog than a wolf sometimes, but it’s not a bad life.
Today, there’s already someone sitting at the bench he usually claims for his. It’s not until he’s about to sit down that he realizes it’s one of Sean’s boys.
Tom finds out that this particular member of the Stalker Squad is Ryan, and Ryan asks if Tom wants to trade his peanut butter sandwich -- times are tough, okay? -- for a roast beef, like they're kids on the playground in elementary school. Like Tom's gonna say no. Ryan doesn't say much, just hangs out with Tom and tosses the crust of his bread to the ducks, but Tom's left feeling calm, and he realizes he didn't spend his lunchtime worrying over things he can't control.
The following day, he meets Al, who's waiting for him when he goes out on a cigarette break behind the store. Unlike the other two, Al isn't quiet. He keeps up a steady stream of commentary about random shit, and Tom's reminded of the way Jon talked to his kittens when he was trying to lure them out from underneath the bed the first time they met Tom.
He's a bit disappointed when two days pass without any surprise visitors, no messages or anything, and he reminds himself that this is why he doesn't need friends. On the third he heads out for the grocery store and is met at the end of his block by the last of Sean's boys, the only one he hasn't formally met yet.
"I'm Max," he says, throwing an arm over Tom's shoulder and ignoring it when Tom tries to shrug him off.
"Fuck off," Tom says. He doesn't want to play their game, whatever it is, he doesn't want them touching him, and he's tired of them messing with his routine. He's already feeling restless, his skin feels itchy like it does when he goes too long between changes, and it's making him even crankier than usual.
"Nope," Max says cheerfully. He's always been the quiet one, always the one hanging slightly behind the others, but Tom can sense the determination running underneath the shyness as Max pulls him a little closer. "We're having pizza and watching the game. Come on, Ryan'll get pissy if we're not back before the game starts."
Tom's not sure why he lets himself be pulled along, but he does.
Tom blames the beer. Well, he also blames his general crankiness and the way he just sinks into the worn cushions and the fact that the others keep touching him despite his protests, but he still thinks maybe he wouldn’t be curling up on the (fucking huge sectional) sofa with his new friends - because really, that’s what they are, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud and jinx it -- if it wasn’t for the beer. Plus, somewhere in his mind he’s certain that if he accidentally relaxes enough to change… well, that’s one way to get them to fuck off, right?
The only problem is that no one freaks out. Sean shifts over to better accommodate Tom’s furry form beside him and rubs behind his ears, grinning at Tom just a little before he turns his attention back to the TV. Max and Ryan don’t even give him a second glance. Most surprising of all is that Al changes into wolf form and curls up next to him.
Tom’s a little shocked. Fuck that, Tom is completely fucking confused. He wants to shift back, act pissy and demand answers and leave, but Al is warm and solid against him, and Sean’s fingers are rather hypnotic, and the banter between Max and Ryan in the background is warm and friendly. He’s only going to let himself rest for a minute…
When he wakes up, the room is dark except for the flickering light from the muted infomercial on the television screen. Instead of Al next to him, the warm weight at his side is Sean, with Ryan on Sean's other side. Al's curled up with Max, barely fitting into the oversized chair at the end of the sofa. Tom could probably get up without disturbing them, if he’s careful, but he doesn’t want to chance it.
The next time he wakes up, he’s alone on the couch. Max is stretched out on the floor, still in wolf form, and looks up, like he feels Tom watching him. He plods over and nuzzles against Tom, nips playfully at the air between them, and even though Max is nothing like Sisky, that’s who Tom thinks of anyway. He’s apparently a little too long in responding to Max’s affections, because he hears Sean say, “If you don’t wanna play, just growl at him. Or change back.”
Tom looks up and sees Sean standing in the kitchen, back turned towards them. He rolls his eyes - that was something difficult to do in wolf form, but he’d long since perfected it - and hops down off the couch to play with Max. They play for a while before they're coaxed into changing back by Sean bringing three plates out to the table.
Tom prefers to be himself when he eats because as a wolf, he gets pretty messy.
“So,” Sean says as Tom and Max start in on their breakfast, “we’re going to the cabin next weekend - Max’s sister has a place an hour or so away - if you wanna come with us. Lots of room to run, animals to chase. Plus, you know, us.”
“I have to work,” Tom mumbles, not willing to look at either Sean or Max as he says it. He could get the time off if he asked.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but it was easier to get you here and then show you, okay? We’re not asking you for anything other than your friendship right now.”
“No,” Tom interrupts. “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready for another pack.”
Tom expects one of them to argue, or at least to try and change his mind, but they don’t. They don’t bring it up again, and when they both give him hugs at the front door as he leaves, he thinks maybe he should have taken them up on their offer.
Jon comes home for the weekend, and while Tom is glad to have him home, something still feels off. He tries to hide the glances he keeps sneaking at his phone and at the front door, tries not to make it obvious that he’s looking for someone - any of four certain someones - when they go out, and tries his best to act normal, but Jon knows him too well. He lets Tom get away with it until Sunday evening after the grocery run Tom had never gotten around to.
“Who’s Ryan?” Jon asks, stocking the fridge with essentials -- beer, cold cuts, and cheese.
“What?” Tom hopes the fact that he's putting shit in the cabinets will hide the flush in his cheeks, and he takes a few extra moments to straighten the row of cans before he turns around, trying to give his heartbeat time to slow back down. “Ryan?”
Jon taps his finger on the fridge, a scrap of paper half stuck under a magnet. Tom found that in his pocket the other day. He’s been staring at it ever since, not calling it but not throwing it away either. “Ryan?”
“Oh,” Tom says. “Ryan. He’s just a friend I ran into while you were gone.”
“Uh huh. And who’s Sean?”
Tom stares at him, wondering where he pulled that name from.
“You talk in your sleep, Tomrad.”
“Another friend,” Tom finally says, looking away.
“Something you wanna tell me?”
Not really. Tom doesn’t want to tell Jon about Sean and Ryan and Al and Max, doesn’t want to have Jon’s logic imposed on his own mental ramblings.
He does it anyway.
“Look, Tom. I know you don’t want a new pack, and after what happened with William, I can’t blame you. But it looks to me like you have one just the same.”
“It’s not that I don’t want a new pack,” Tom says, shaking his head. “I don’t need a pack. I’m good. And I haven’t heard from any of them since I turned them down, so it doesn’t matter anyway.” He’s pretty sure Jon knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t call him on it.
Another week passes, slowly, and Tom can’t stop looking for one of them to show up at his work, on his walk, at Starbucks. Several times, he pulls the number off the fridge, either to call it or get rid of it, but each time he just puts it back in place. They know where to find him. They obviously spent a great deal of time and effort getting to him in the first place, he can’t believe they would give up that easily. Or maybe they just realized he wasn’t worth fighting for after all.
Jon goes back to Vegas for a while because he and his boys are recording (how Jon came to be in a band with three other werewolves is a whole other story, though; Tom's so distracted by his own misery that he doesn't really pick up on Jon's tension when he asks about them), and Tom still isn't sure what he wants to do. He could listen to Jon ("Pack is family, and you need that. Even if you don't want to admit it.") or he can keep ignoring the urge he feels to call Ryan, to hear his voice and let it settle the hairs on the back of his neck, which seem to always be on end lately.
He hasn't decided which to do when he lets Nick drag him out for the opening of his bar. He should have known the night wouldn't go without drama, because the universe hates him and because Nick knows everyone. The first thing he sees when he walks in is William and his pack huddled against the bar, laughing and looking around the room. There’s someone with them he doesn’t know, leaning against Butcher and laughing with Carden, and it takes Tom a second to realize he should feel hurt over being replaced, but really he just feels like he should wish the guy luck or something.
He finds a corner on the other side of the room where he can talk to some friends and keep his eye on Carden, and even though he’s mostly got his back to the front entrance, he feels it when Ryan and Sean walk in, Max and Al close behind them. He relaxes a little just knowing they’re there. Then he notices how tired they look and the slight limp to Ryan’s gait, and he immediately tenses back up.
He’s not the only one who notices, and Carden’s closer. Carden’s always been an ass, likes to go after anyone that’s already vulnerable. Tom gets across the room and steps between them.
“Back off, Carden.”
Carden turns his attention to Tom with a sneer. “Conrad. Should have known you’d end up with this pack of losers.”
Tom growls. “I said, back the fuck off.” He starts to step forward, get into Carden’s face, but Al wraps an arm around his waist and steps up beside him. Sean and Ryan come up on Tom’s other side, and Max is beside Al. Tom glances over at all of them, and when he looks back, William has stepped in front of Carden.
“Tom.”
“William.”
It seems like most of the room is watching them, and Tom’s itching for something to happen, but William’s studying him, like he’s trying to figure him out. Tom can’t help but compare how he’s standing side-by-side with his boys, all of them equal, and the way William is standing in front of Carden, the rest of their pack behind them.
“We’re not going to fuck up Nick’s party,” William finally says, turning around and staring at Carden until he goes back to the bar in a huff. “Oh, and Tom? Enjoy your new pack.”
Tom watches him walk off before he turns around. “Ryan, what happened?”
Max laughs. “Ryan’s a klutz.”
Ryan flips him off but doesn’t deny it.
“So, you make up your mind?” Sean asks.
Tom nods. “Sorry I took so long.” And he is. He knew before he even talked to Jon that these guys were his, that this was where he meant to be. He just didn’t want to admit it.
“You can make it up to us,” Al says, steering Tom towards the bar. “You’re buying the drinks tonight.”
by irisgirl12000 and why_me_why_not
bandom || Empires + Jon Walker, mentions of TAI || teen || ~3100 words
Disclaimer: FALSEHOODS AND LIES! Not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Summary: Werewolf AU of sorts. Tom has been on his own since getting kicked out of William's pack.
A/N: Blame shutyourface. If you see any errors, please point them out. Werewolves are based off the werewolves in the Dresden Files, which is all why_me_why_not's influence. If you are one of those mentioned in this fic, or if you personally know those someones, please hit the back button or at least don't tell us about it.
Tom's pretty much stuck to himself since he quit running with William's pack. He knows it's dangerous, knows lone wolves are more likely to be picked off by Hunters or hunted down by Alphas who feel threatened by them, but he's not ready to be part of a pack again. It's not that he wants to be an Alpha himself; he doesn't want a pack of his own gained by either coercion or force. He has no problem being an underling. He just doesn't want to go through that again, proving himself and earning acceptance into a pack only to be forced out. If the end result is the same, he may as well just stay alone.
He’s not completely alone. He has Jon, who has always been a friend to Tom and who just laughed - wide eyed and delighted - when he found out Tom was a wolf. He never questioned it, never made Tom feel different, and never seemed bothered by the fact that he couldn't turn. He looked out for Tom - for all of them - and Tom really kinda wishes he was here now instead of off in LA or NYC or Vegas, wherever he and Cassie are this week.
What Tom misses most is cuddling - hey, it's an instinct! - having another warm body pressed up against his, all warm and furry and so close it's hard to tell them apart. Even before things went all to shit with his pack - his former pack, he reminds himself - they had already started to pull away from him. The tension between him and Carden had affected them all, even Sisky, who was generally happy as long as he got a decent supply of snuggles and belly rubs. So it's been a long while since Tom's had that, had someone to share himself with. The random hookups, the girls and the occasional guy, do little to appease his craving for contact, especially since he can't turn into wolf form in front of a random stranger. ("Oh, hi, I know you said you were into kinky shit... how do you feel about wolves?") He would totally take advantage of Jon and Cassie if they were home, but they're not. Tom tries not to think about it as he pulls his jacket tighter around him. Fucking Chicago weather.
Tom's startled when he runs directly into someone on the sidewalk in front of his favorite Starbucks - he and Jon used to work here, and despite how much the manager complained about them then, she gives them free coffee whenever they stop by - but when the person he ran into looks up, he realizes he shouldn't have been surprised.
“By yourself today?” he asks, trying to sound casual even though he's really not sure if it's okay to be friendly with a stalker.
The man just smiles, that infuriatingly open happy smile that Tom swears he's been seeing in his dreams lately. Tom knows his name is Sean, heard one of the other guys call him that, but he refuses to even associate the name in his mind until they're properly introduced. Stalker.
“I am by myself,” the stalker finally admits. “And so are you. Wanna keep me company for a while?”
Tom always says no every time this offer comes up. And it's been coming up a lot lately.
Tom's not sure where or why he acquired a band of stalkers, but he has. Obviously, saying no hasn't worked to get rid of them. Neither has ignoring them. Maybe it's time to try a different approach. He tells himself that's the only reason he shakes his head but still says, “Sure, why not?”
He admits he's a little disappointed that Sean doesn't seem surprised by his acceptance, just puts his hand on Tom's back like he has any right to touch - seriously, Tom can feel himself tense up and he has to fight to hold back a growl - and steers him towards Starbucks. “Let me buy you a coffee.”
Tom doesn't bother to tell him he never pays for coffee. Let the stalker spend his money.
“So,” the stalker says, once they've picked up their drinks and made their way to a corner table. “I'm Sean Van Vleet. And I'm glad you finally agreed to hang out with me.”
“I'm hoping it'll get you off my back,” Tom says, scooting back so their feet aren’t touching beneath the table.
“You don’t really want us to leave you alone.” Sean sounds completely convinced, and the look he’s giving Tom would be charming if Tom wasn’t so unsettled by him. Sean leans back and takes a sip of his coffee, watching Tom. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
There’s no doubt in Tom’s mind that Sean knows his name; he’s also certain Sean knows his schedule and the paths he takes to and from work. Still, he’s willing to play along. “Thomas Conrad.”
“Well, Tom, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sean doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that Tom doesn’t answer him. The silence between them should feel uncomfortable - being in the presence of other people does that to Tom, he can’t help it - but it doesn’t really. Tom’s watching the girl behind the counter attempting to flirt - and failing - with one of the customers when Sean speaks up again. “I have to go meet Ryan, but you’re welcome to come along.”
Tom shakes his head. He doesn’t know which one of the others is Ryan, but he’s really had enough weirdness for today.
“Yeah, I figured.” Sean pushes back from the table and stands up. “I’ll see you around, Tom.”
Tom watches him walk out and wonders if maybe he should have taken him up on the offer, because suddenly he’s lonely again.
The next day, he’s a little late when he gets to the small park down the block from photo shop. He usually takes lunch here, sharing his sandwich with the ducks and enjoying the sunshine. Sometimes, when Jon’s in town, he’ll come along and Tom’ll be able to change, roll around in the grass and let the sun warm his fur, and really, it’s more like being a dog than a wolf sometimes, but it’s not a bad life.
Today, there’s already someone sitting at the bench he usually claims for his. It’s not until he’s about to sit down that he realizes it’s one of Sean’s boys.
Tom finds out that this particular member of the Stalker Squad is Ryan, and Ryan asks if Tom wants to trade his peanut butter sandwich -- times are tough, okay? -- for a roast beef, like they're kids on the playground in elementary school. Like Tom's gonna say no. Ryan doesn't say much, just hangs out with Tom and tosses the crust of his bread to the ducks, but Tom's left feeling calm, and he realizes he didn't spend his lunchtime worrying over things he can't control.
The following day, he meets Al, who's waiting for him when he goes out on a cigarette break behind the store. Unlike the other two, Al isn't quiet. He keeps up a steady stream of commentary about random shit, and Tom's reminded of the way Jon talked to his kittens when he was trying to lure them out from underneath the bed the first time they met Tom.
He's a bit disappointed when two days pass without any surprise visitors, no messages or anything, and he reminds himself that this is why he doesn't need friends. On the third he heads out for the grocery store and is met at the end of his block by the last of Sean's boys, the only one he hasn't formally met yet.
"I'm Max," he says, throwing an arm over Tom's shoulder and ignoring it when Tom tries to shrug him off.
"Fuck off," Tom says. He doesn't want to play their game, whatever it is, he doesn't want them touching him, and he's tired of them messing with his routine. He's already feeling restless, his skin feels itchy like it does when he goes too long between changes, and it's making him even crankier than usual.
"Nope," Max says cheerfully. He's always been the quiet one, always the one hanging slightly behind the others, but Tom can sense the determination running underneath the shyness as Max pulls him a little closer. "We're having pizza and watching the game. Come on, Ryan'll get pissy if we're not back before the game starts."
Tom's not sure why he lets himself be pulled along, but he does.
Tom blames the beer. Well, he also blames his general crankiness and the way he just sinks into the worn cushions and the fact that the others keep touching him despite his protests, but he still thinks maybe he wouldn’t be curling up on the (fucking huge sectional) sofa with his new friends - because really, that’s what they are, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud and jinx it -- if it wasn’t for the beer. Plus, somewhere in his mind he’s certain that if he accidentally relaxes enough to change… well, that’s one way to get them to fuck off, right?
The only problem is that no one freaks out. Sean shifts over to better accommodate Tom’s furry form beside him and rubs behind his ears, grinning at Tom just a little before he turns his attention back to the TV. Max and Ryan don’t even give him a second glance. Most surprising of all is that Al changes into wolf form and curls up next to him.
Tom’s a little shocked. Fuck that, Tom is completely fucking confused. He wants to shift back, act pissy and demand answers and leave, but Al is warm and solid against him, and Sean’s fingers are rather hypnotic, and the banter between Max and Ryan in the background is warm and friendly. He’s only going to let himself rest for a minute…
When he wakes up, the room is dark except for the flickering light from the muted infomercial on the television screen. Instead of Al next to him, the warm weight at his side is Sean, with Ryan on Sean's other side. Al's curled up with Max, barely fitting into the oversized chair at the end of the sofa. Tom could probably get up without disturbing them, if he’s careful, but he doesn’t want to chance it.
The next time he wakes up, he’s alone on the couch. Max is stretched out on the floor, still in wolf form, and looks up, like he feels Tom watching him. He plods over and nuzzles against Tom, nips playfully at the air between them, and even though Max is nothing like Sisky, that’s who Tom thinks of anyway. He’s apparently a little too long in responding to Max’s affections, because he hears Sean say, “If you don’t wanna play, just growl at him. Or change back.”
Tom looks up and sees Sean standing in the kitchen, back turned towards them. He rolls his eyes - that was something difficult to do in wolf form, but he’d long since perfected it - and hops down off the couch to play with Max. They play for a while before they're coaxed into changing back by Sean bringing three plates out to the table.
Tom prefers to be himself when he eats because as a wolf, he gets pretty messy.
“So,” Sean says as Tom and Max start in on their breakfast, “we’re going to the cabin next weekend - Max’s sister has a place an hour or so away - if you wanna come with us. Lots of room to run, animals to chase. Plus, you know, us.”
“I have to work,” Tom mumbles, not willing to look at either Sean or Max as he says it. He could get the time off if he asked.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but it was easier to get you here and then show you, okay? We’re not asking you for anything other than your friendship right now.”
“No,” Tom interrupts. “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready for another pack.”
Tom expects one of them to argue, or at least to try and change his mind, but they don’t. They don’t bring it up again, and when they both give him hugs at the front door as he leaves, he thinks maybe he should have taken them up on their offer.
Jon comes home for the weekend, and while Tom is glad to have him home, something still feels off. He tries to hide the glances he keeps sneaking at his phone and at the front door, tries not to make it obvious that he’s looking for someone - any of four certain someones - when they go out, and tries his best to act normal, but Jon knows him too well. He lets Tom get away with it until Sunday evening after the grocery run Tom had never gotten around to.
“Who’s Ryan?” Jon asks, stocking the fridge with essentials -- beer, cold cuts, and cheese.
“What?” Tom hopes the fact that he's putting shit in the cabinets will hide the flush in his cheeks, and he takes a few extra moments to straighten the row of cans before he turns around, trying to give his heartbeat time to slow back down. “Ryan?”
Jon taps his finger on the fridge, a scrap of paper half stuck under a magnet. Tom found that in his pocket the other day. He’s been staring at it ever since, not calling it but not throwing it away either. “Ryan?”
“Oh,” Tom says. “Ryan. He’s just a friend I ran into while you were gone.”
“Uh huh. And who’s Sean?”
Tom stares at him, wondering where he pulled that name from.
“You talk in your sleep, Tomrad.”
“Another friend,” Tom finally says, looking away.
“Something you wanna tell me?”
Not really. Tom doesn’t want to tell Jon about Sean and Ryan and Al and Max, doesn’t want to have Jon’s logic imposed on his own mental ramblings.
He does it anyway.
“Look, Tom. I know you don’t want a new pack, and after what happened with William, I can’t blame you. But it looks to me like you have one just the same.”
“It’s not that I don’t want a new pack,” Tom says, shaking his head. “I don’t need a pack. I’m good. And I haven’t heard from any of them since I turned them down, so it doesn’t matter anyway.” He’s pretty sure Jon knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t call him on it.
Another week passes, slowly, and Tom can’t stop looking for one of them to show up at his work, on his walk, at Starbucks. Several times, he pulls the number off the fridge, either to call it or get rid of it, but each time he just puts it back in place. They know where to find him. They obviously spent a great deal of time and effort getting to him in the first place, he can’t believe they would give up that easily. Or maybe they just realized he wasn’t worth fighting for after all.
Jon goes back to Vegas for a while because he and his boys are recording (how Jon came to be in a band with three other werewolves is a whole other story, though; Tom's so distracted by his own misery that he doesn't really pick up on Jon's tension when he asks about them), and Tom still isn't sure what he wants to do. He could listen to Jon ("Pack is family, and you need that. Even if you don't want to admit it.") or he can keep ignoring the urge he feels to call Ryan, to hear his voice and let it settle the hairs on the back of his neck, which seem to always be on end lately.
He hasn't decided which to do when he lets Nick drag him out for the opening of his bar. He should have known the night wouldn't go without drama, because the universe hates him and because Nick knows everyone. The first thing he sees when he walks in is William and his pack huddled against the bar, laughing and looking around the room. There’s someone with them he doesn’t know, leaning against Butcher and laughing with Carden, and it takes Tom a second to realize he should feel hurt over being replaced, but really he just feels like he should wish the guy luck or something.
He finds a corner on the other side of the room where he can talk to some friends and keep his eye on Carden, and even though he’s mostly got his back to the front entrance, he feels it when Ryan and Sean walk in, Max and Al close behind them. He relaxes a little just knowing they’re there. Then he notices how tired they look and the slight limp to Ryan’s gait, and he immediately tenses back up.
He’s not the only one who notices, and Carden’s closer. Carden’s always been an ass, likes to go after anyone that’s already vulnerable. Tom gets across the room and steps between them.
“Back off, Carden.”
Carden turns his attention to Tom with a sneer. “Conrad. Should have known you’d end up with this pack of losers.”
Tom growls. “I said, back the fuck off.” He starts to step forward, get into Carden’s face, but Al wraps an arm around his waist and steps up beside him. Sean and Ryan come up on Tom’s other side, and Max is beside Al. Tom glances over at all of them, and when he looks back, William has stepped in front of Carden.
“Tom.”
“William.”
It seems like most of the room is watching them, and Tom’s itching for something to happen, but William’s studying him, like he’s trying to figure him out. Tom can’t help but compare how he’s standing side-by-side with his boys, all of them equal, and the way William is standing in front of Carden, the rest of their pack behind them.
“We’re not going to fuck up Nick’s party,” William finally says, turning around and staring at Carden until he goes back to the bar in a huff. “Oh, and Tom? Enjoy your new pack.”
Tom watches him walk off before he turns around. “Ryan, what happened?”
Max laughs. “Ryan’s a klutz.”
Ryan flips him off but doesn’t deny it.
“So, you make up your mind?” Sean asks.
Tom nods. “Sorry I took so long.” And he is. He knew before he even talked to Jon that these guys were his, that this was where he meant to be. He just didn’t want to admit it.
“You can make it up to us,” Al says, steering Tom towards the bar. “You’re buying the drinks tonight.”