packpapa | (no subject)

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( c ) brigid finn ➜ bostonhowler

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Summer is truly starting to set in as the sun rises slowly in the blue, cloudless sky, and the birds outside are chirping merrily. But with the large window covering most of the wall in the main living space and the sunlight above, Derek stirs with a groan, burying his face further into the warm pillow and the covers surrounding him to shield his sensitive eyes.

He feels a little groggy as he starts to pull himself out from the depths of sleep, not that far from what it feels like after experiencing wolfsbane in his system, and, what he can only assume, it feels like to have a hangover.

It doesn't take long for him to fully come to his senses and when he does he jolts up with a start. Brigid. He looks to his right where she's still lying beside him, but thankfully he doesn't appear to have disturbed her. She looks peaceful in slumber, he thinks, unable to remove his eyes from her sleeping form, and he reaches out without thinking about it, carefully brushing the wild strands of red hair away from her face. He finds himself smiling, almost as if nothing's changed and they're still teenagers without a care in the world, but the weight of the darkness around his heart doesn't let him forget for long.

He's glad she's here, he realises, even though he still can't let himself believe it's going to last; he wants to, but he can't. The second he starts to let himself hope, he knows everything can only go downhill from there, it always does. But maybe if she sticks around long enough, if she manages to settle without bolting as soon as she discovers every single sordid detail, and he knows she's going to have to meet the others at some point.

Derek carefully manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back against the head of the bed and covers hanging over his clothed lap. He didn't plan to sleep through the entire night and half of the morning as well, but he needed it, and he knows that Brigid did as well. And he can already feel a lot of the weariness gone from the solid night of sleep. He catches the fresh scent of Isaac, but he can't hear his heartbeat from within the loft, so he knows he must have been and gone, always trying to stay out of his way to make sure he's not a nuisance. He doesn't mind having him around, though, and it's not as if either of them have anyone else, but he can't help feeling relief that he can hold off on introductions a while longer until he can catch her up with the recent going-ons.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, watching as the sun fully rises in the sky and glancing down to the woman beside him, a woman he never thought he would get to meet and the memories of the girl she used to be faded from the hard years that followed. He's an alpha, yes, but he knows he's far from perfect, that he wasn't born to the role, and that he's going to make a lot more mistakes before he finds his feet. And he's still got a long way to go before he can be anything to anyone beyond that, but if she's at his side then he thinks he can learn to try that much harder to discover who he was supposed to be before he got thrown off course.

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"Rule one: I'm always right; rule two, if you think I'm wrong, see rule number one." She quips taking her tea. The apple cinnamon flavor is a bit strong, but she likes it better when she's trying to cut back her caffeine intake. And it doesn't leave the aftertaste the peppermint does.

She sips it slowly, blowing on it to cool it. This is California; she'll find another tea shop like she had back in Boston. If Boston had looseleaf tea shops, California most certainly does. Half the fun of going in is because she can tell the taste just from the smell.

Brigid frowns, sipping her tea. "You need one, Derek. You know that. I have a few names of Emissaries that are attached to packs, but they might know someone." Doubtful, since that's usually passed on. "I can get them later, though. Why isn't he your Emissary?"

"I'm already starting to agree with him." He rolls his eyes fondly as he juggles the plates and his mug with a bottle of syrup tucked under one arm over to the table, setting everything down before taking a seat.

"He's retired." But he sounds unsure, especially since he's been taking less of a backseat in recent weeks. "I'll talk to him." He nudges the chair out from beside him with his foot and takes a scolding swallow of coffee. "While Peter was the alpha, he turned someone. A teenager. He works for the emissary who used to help my mom. He helps him and my pack by extension. But I don't know if I can trust him." He doesn't trust anyone, though, and Deaton took the time to point that out to him already.

She settles next to him, probably far too comfortable in his loft already. Less than twenty-four hours and she wants to jump right in and help him fix everything. Brigid curls up in the chair, frowning down into her tea. Her fingers itch for the book, but she doesn't want to risk it with the pancakes.

Then, she steals Derek's syrup putting it on her pile of pancakes. She's so used to pack, still, that it doesn't even occur to her that it might bother others.

Another sip of her tea and she finally cuts into the pancakes. Something teases at the edges of her memory; something she read in the book. Brigid munches for a moment, tucking hair behind her ear. His mother had seemed to trust the Emissary, but she's not going to point that out. Not to Derek. She can't imagine everything that had happened over the years.

"There might be more ammunition you can take into that conversation." Brigid is still feeling her way through the information cataloged over years of reading history and translating the book. "Maybe." She gestures with her fork toward the book. "If I remember correctly, an Emissary serves an Alpha, but if someone else takes their place, then the Emissary must either appoint a replacement or serve themselves. It's part of the pact they made with the early wolves."

She sops up some syrup with a bite of pancake. "But, that's only if I remember rightly. A few hours with the book and I can look it up." A few hours because she's going to have to translate things.

Brigid rests her chin on her upraised knee. "And then I'll call Carlos and you two can complain I'm being perfect and wonderful at each other." She grins and sticks her tongue out at him.

He's not used to a lot of things, it's true, and sometimes he finds himself watching her do things, small things, that do take him aback. But he doesn't find himself wanting to object. His currently pack - Isaac, Erica, and Boyd - they only know him now and not who he used to be before, they know that there are lines that he expects them not to cross, but to have Brigid walk in and do all of the little things that his pack, his family, used to do - well, it's nice, even if it makes him a little sad. He misses his family, his true pack, each second of every day, but he also feels the guilt of how much he's really let his new pack down, how much more he could have offered them and been a better alpha for it.

Maybe there's still time with Isaac, and with her at his side he doesn't think it'll be quite as hard to let himself go a little where he can, to find the moments and take advantage of them to appropriate the small things that a pack should be.

"So you're saying I should go over to him and demand, as an alpha, that he either serves me or he finds someone else willing." He looks amused at the thought, eyebrow raised, but it's lacking any real judgement; it's what a proper alpha would do, but he wasn't born to this, hasn't been prepared for it, and he knew that when he took the status. But it took him long enough to accept the misfit group of teenagers into the inner circle and even then he holds them at a distance most of the time. "That should go over well."

But he knows he needs to let someone in who can truly help him and his pack fight the battles that always seem to find them, and a few less bodies in their wake would definitely help matters improve.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to bond with a complete stranger, even if it is about you." But he's smiling, tucking heartily into his pancakes and feeling that much better for the food entering his body.

She snickers into her tea. Put like that, it does sound utterly ridiculous. Brigid just grins, because, really, the thought of either of them demanding anything, from an Alpha, an Emissary, anyone, wouldn't have been even contemplated all those years ago.

"Well, it's one solution to the problem." Brigid points out. She drops one foot to the floor, eating her pancakes for a moment. "But, I'm not sure of the rules for it. They're in the book, I know that much, I just don't have them memorized."

Her fingers tap against the table, beating out a random pattern while she tries to think of another solution. Sighing, she shakes her head. "That's all I have, really. It's force a decision out of him, or look for a stranger. And that will announce you to the world, if you don't want to do that yet." Brigid doesn't know what he's thinking, or what might be happening. She wants him to have all the possibilities laid out in front of him so he can make the best decision for the pack.

Her eyebrows rise. "Are you kidding? If you said your name was Derek, he'd probably start laughing and tell you all sorts of... never mind, you talking to Carlos is a bad idea." She isn't going to explain that either. Well, not right now, anyway.

"Feel free to spend the day with the book, don't mind me." He's seen her eyeing it up, fingers appearing as if to be itching towards it, but it would be good to find out one way or the other, to plan before he approaches the situation for a change; it's a luxury he's not had much lately with life and death situations hanging over.

"Peter called you." He frowns as he points it out, and there's a conversation on the cards with him the next time he sees him. "It wouldn't surprise me if he's informed others of my whereabouts if not my status."

Eyeing her with open curiosity, Derek can't help but take the bait. "No, go on. He'll tell me what?" He's almost grinning, a lightness taking hold of him that's not put in an appearance for a long time. "You can't dangle that in front of me and not finish."

She blushes, her hair falling forward to hide her face. "I'm not just going to abandon you to hang out with my translations, Derek. Besides, it will only take a couple hours." Brigid wants to spend time with him. Not just her book.

She finishes off her pancakes, sipping her tea. "True. He did." She licks the drop of tea off her lip. "But, I had two weeks to look into things. There's rumors of a rogue alpha out here, but no one is eager to come look into things." An advantage for them and one she plans to make use of if Derek allows it.

That's going to take time to adjust to: a new Alpha, someone she's going to have to figure out how to read, how to -- She stops that train of thought. Derek is not Markus and he's not going to need half the toptoeing that Markus had. If anything, she's going to have to keep reminding herself that he's not the boy she knew any longer. She can't take all the liberties she could, if he were a Beta.

She raises her eyebrows, sipping the dregs of her tea. "Ooooh no. No. You do not need to know about fourteen and fifteen year old me and how horribly awkward I was and Carlos will take great delight in sharing those stories." She really doesn't want him to find out a few things. They aren't bad, just really pathetic.

Brigid pushes herself up and gathers up her dishes. "Here, I'll even do dishes. Then, movie? We've both earned a day off." A nice quiet day of arguing over movies and getting reacquainted. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Finishing off his coffee and pancakes, Derek shifts on his seat so he's facing her, plate shoved aside.

"I should find the others at some point and let them know about you." He doesn't look eager to leave, though, but the sooner everyone knows that there's another werewolf in town, a friendly one, then there's less chance of an Argent taking matters into their own hands the second they return. "You'll like them. Probably." He does, but he'll never admit it.

He watches quietly at the look on her face, losing her briefly to her thoughts, and as much as he's tempted to ask, he's biding his time.

"Now I'm more curious." But he's not going to push it. If she's really going to be around for the long-haul, not that he's letting himself get too used to the idea just in case, then he likes to think they can share stories as they go. Right now, though, they need rediscover each other again, and to get Brigid settled in.

He rolls his eyes, but agrees, getting to his feet and grabbing his own dishes. "Usually I avoid tempting fate." Walking back to the kitchen, he puts them down on the side. "A movie does sound good."

"Only probably?" She asks, turning on the water to start the dishes. "Anyone beyond your uncle I should be worried about?" No reason not to get some business out of the way while she does up the washing. There isn't much to do, but better to do it now, than let it sit.

"Keep your curiosity to yourself." Brigid grumbles. Because she does not need Derek and Carlos ganging up on her for any reason ever. Carlos knows some things that Derek doesn't and vice versa. Especially when it comes to the whole werewolf thing. She'd never asked for permission to tell him. Better to have him ignorant, than to worry about him getting drawn into pack politics. And thus having to answer to Markus.

She glances at him, turning back to finish the dishes. "Just one day, Derek. Tomorrow, I'll go through the book and do all the translating and everything." Brigid's voice takes on a submissive, pleading tone. It's not because of him. She has her own damage to work through. Especially when it comes to Alphas.

Derek will be just as good for her as she is for him.

"No one likes Peter. You shouldn't be afraid to agree." Openly and frequently, and possibly with violent threats on his life. "Erica and Boyd are currently missing." Because he should put that out there, but he doesn't elaborate. "The others aren't technically pack." But he secretly likes to hope. "Scott has a pack of humans. He's not always the brightest, but he's got potential. And he has heart. With Scott comes Stiles, a package deal. He's annoying, but you get used to it. And he helps." Like saving his life on occasion. "Allison is a hunter and an Argent. She's had her moments, but be careful."

He gives her one last look on the subject of childhood memories, but he lets it drop. He is curious about Carols, though, of his importance, and if there's a spike of jealous somewhere deep inside, then she doesn't need to know. He should have been the one to know her as they grew up and he let that slip through his fingers.

"You don't need permission." Because he's been wondering if she needs telling directly, so she doesn't think she needs to ask every time she wants to do something. He knew the second he told her he was an alpha that things would change, but she's not one of the betas he created. Maybe it's his failings in keeping his pack together and the loss of two members, however much he hopes to bring them back, he's easing up on them where and when he can; he doesn't own them, but he did forewarn them of what they were stepping into, and they need to learn how to protect themselves as much as possible. "You do know that, don't you?"

A pair of missing Betas, a pack of humans. Derek has landed himself in an unusual situation of pretty epic proportions. That's alright; she's here to help. She's not going to leave him alone again.

But having a hunter around, after what he's been through? She looks up, her eyes questioning. Why would he allow that? Why have the girl around?

Brigid sighs when he tells her about asking permission. She puts the rest of the dishes to dry on the rack. Her fingers rest lightly on the edge of the sink as she stares down into the distorted reflection staring back up at her.

"It's... it might take me a while, Derek. Markus only got more and more strict over the years." And he'd been horribly strict when they'd been out here. He demanded accountings from his Betas for their whereabouts almost at all times. He runs his pack as if it's almost a cult. She looks up at him. "Almost everything had to be run past him. So, if I do it to you, it's because of that." She walks over to him, finally, and wraps her arms around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Just... give me time to realize I don't have to run every little thing past you."

Brigid looks up at him, smiling crookedly. "Now, how about we go argue over movies?"

In any other circumstance, Derek might laugh as he watches her taking everything in, because whatever it is that she's thinking can't be worse than the truth. But she doesn't offer any comment and he doesn't question how well she's taking it; she'll figure everything out eventually one way or the other.

He can't hide the frown as she explains how bad her alpha got after their brief time together, but he doesn't point out how much he dislikes him, how much he always had from the second he laid eyes on him; he was used to his mother, then, and where she had her moments, she was never heartless.

He doesn't even have to think about it this time, arms sliding up and around her, sighing softly as she rests her head against his shoulder. "I think we both need time to adjust to certain things." But he feels hopeful that, with the time there and as long as nothing too bad happens for a while, that they'll manage it together. "I might be an alpha, but I'm still--" he starts, and then pauses; he's not the same person he was, not really, but at the core he's still Derek, still the boy she remembers, and she's already digging bits of him out. "Take all the time you need."

Rolling his eyes with a fondness to it, Derek nods, and stands up. "That sounds good."

He can badmouth Markus all he likes. The kindest thing she's called him recently is a murderous misogynistic pig. She'd even thought about challenging him. The only reason she hadn't was the phone call. Running is better than challenging an Alpha.

And if she had won? What would she have done? She's not an Alpha. She's never going to be and she doesn't mind that. Let other people have to worry about it. She likes helping.

"It won't take me long. It's just..." She looks up at him, her arms still around his neck. "You're you, and I know that what I remember is still there, but I can't..." Brigid nibbles on her bottom lip trying to think how to put it. "But, if I'm going to help you rebuild the Hale pack, and I am, I can't always treat you like you're the same Beta that I am?" It's a question she has to ask. "Engaged to. Here, when it's just us? I always will." Because in her mind, Alphas need that. "But in front of the others, you are and will always be the Alpha. And sometimes, that'll slip over." Probably less if they ever marry.

She's sticking around for the long haul. She meant what she'd said: She will still marry him, and give him a family. It will never replace the one he lost, but maybe it'll help ease the hurt some.

"If you've got net, hook my computer into it, if not, just plug my phone in and it'll connect automatically. I have Netflix. They're in my big duffel." Which solves the problem of what to watch. "I'll be back." Brigid bounces up on her toes and kisses his cheek, slipping out of his arms and heading upstairs for a moment.

Engaged. It's a word he's still trying to get used to, one he was certain he would never think of again in relation to himself, but he supposes that the two of them are, technically, engaged, promised to one another, and as long as it's what they still want then that's not changed.

"It might makes things easier in front of the pack," he admits with a frown, but if the two of them do stick it out together and get married, he thinks he would prefer to be equals in as many ways as possible, even if he's always going to be strong as an alpha. "We'll figure it out."

He keeps looking around, wondering if the loft isn't enough for the two of them now, but he knows he's jumping the gun; he's barely moved in, the house still his for a little while longer, and she's not even been with him a full day.

"There's net." He makes a face at the fact, Isaac and Stiles actually coming together to fight him on it until he did it simply to shut them up, and, admittedly, it comes in useful as far as research goes. He grabs her laptop, connecting it up and switching it on, putting it down on the bed. "There."

She laughs, padding back down the stairs. Her hair is actually contained for the moment. She's pulled it back with a headband and run a comb through it. At least it doesn't look like she's stuck her finger in a socket. "Derek, I haul around that book and I love the internet." She's spent more time in dusty libraries than she'd like to admit. "And, I've been in catacombs that double as a library, surrounded by skeletons. Don't tell me you aren't net-savvy." She's allowed to tease him.

She climbs back into the bed with him. Sitting with her back to the headboard, she frowns and pokes a few keys on her keyboard, before the red of Netflix fills the screen. Quickly, she is scrolling through movies. "I have no idea what you want to watch. Most of my favorites are documentaries, along with a few B-movie horror." Especially the werewolf ones. Carlos had never understood why she laughed at them so much. "So...?" She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

She'd heard the engaged bit, and she knows that it might make it easier around the pack. Honestly, for the first time since she was fourteen, she's contemplating it without dread, without worry. Caring for Derek comes easily to her, and the intervening years haven't changed that. She knows that Markus had been... well, "shopping" is the only word for it, for another husband for her. Brigid had pretended not to hear, but it'd churned her stomach.

He half sights and half groans, head dropping down, because he's had this conversation, or variations of it, more times than he cares to remember. "I can use a computer." Well, if switching it on and opening a browser counts, but he's got no idea what to do if anything goes wrong.

"Horror movie." He could do with a laugh, and half of those things are so beyond ridiculous they're less horror and more comedy as far as he's concerned, especially as far as being realistic goes. "Unless you had something in mind."

It's surprising to him that he finds this so easy, to sit beside her while she leans into him and to be sliding his arm around her back to keep her close, sighing with what he suspects might possibly be contentment. He's missed the closeness in general, contact and touch, but he knows this is a little different, he can feel it, and the fact there's a lack of impending doom helps him to relax completely.

She laughs at him. Because he looks so hopeless about the internet. She probably shouldn't tease him about it, but it's cute. People think her archaic, but there are requirements for computer programming classes for most history majors. She had liked them, even if they hadn't been her forte.

"You'll love it: BattleDogs is hilariously awful." She queues it up, leaning against him. She shifts so the laptop is on both of their legs. Her eyes drift halfway shut.

"You can ask me, you know. Anything about anything." He'd said he'd wanted to know about their time apart, but hasn't asked. "I'll answer." She thinks for a second. "I might have to go to Confession after admitting everything, but I need to find a new church anyway. And a priest."

She's still Catholic, still refuses to give up her faith, no matter what goes on.

He doesn't pout, he doesn't, but it's a close thing; he does manage a scowl, though, even if there's no real heat behind it. She's not one of the frustrating teenagers he seems to find himself amongst more times than not, but that doesn't mean he's going to go completely easy on her.

"I'll take your word for it." But he doesn't object, letting her settle in as he does the same, and balancing the laptop carefully as he does. "It's been a while since I've been able to sit and watch a movie." And even longer since he's been able to truly relax.

It's a good few minutes before he says anything, but he hums to let her know he's listening, to acknowledge; he's not sure if he wants to know everything or not, but it's more because he knows he's missed the time with her that he'll never get back rather than that he doesn't want to know.

"What happened to your father?" The words come out before he can stop them, because he knows what it's like to have family brought up, and the fact she's avoided the subject since she arrived makes him almost certain that the answer isn't going to be a good one.

She leans against him, taking comfort just from him being there. She's missed him for so long and been through a lot - nothing compared to him, she's sure - but he's like coming home again. Like recapturing the innocent fun they'd once had together.

"After we left here, Da asked Markus about cluing in his girlfriend to the whole werewolf thing." She barely remembers the woman. "Remember? I wrote you about how she bathed in her perfume and didn't understand why I hated having her over?" She'd complained long and loud both on the phone and in letters.

"Anyway, Markus said no." She shifts a bit next to him, watching the movie intently. "Da obeyed, but he didn't stop seeing her." Some would have, but her Da had loved the woman. "She ended up pregnant. Da petitioned Markus again. She was pregnant with a potential wolf, it wasn't something they could hide from her forever." Even though Brigid had not wanted that woman as part of the pack. "She was about four months along and went to talk to the Emissary, who is also a pediatrician. She was interviewing them or something. Twelve hours later, she miscarried." Brigid's voice drops but she knows he can still hear her.

"Da called me and told me to just go to school and he'd handle everything, even though he knew something was wrong." She bites her bottom lip. "The next day, I was called home from school. I thought Da had been hurt in the line of duty or something. Markus had killed him; Da challenged him because the Emissary had fed her something that had caused her to miscarry. Da lost." Her fingers twist together. "Da wrote me a letter explaining everything, including the test results and his side of the story. I still have all of it. Insurance against Markus." She plans on keeping it forever too. Especially if he protests her leaving.

He doesn't even try to hide the huff of amusement and the smirk that twitches at the corners of his mouth, because he remembers the long rants both in letters and over the phone as if they were yesterday, and although it's been a while, he did keep the letters and re-read them occasionally, even if it ended up being to torture himself with a future he should have had and no longer thought possible after what he did.

"I remember." He nods, encouraging her to go on, and listening when she does, not wanting to interrupt; he knows first-hand that it's not easy to talk about loved ones who are no longer with them, so he doesn't want to stop her. His eyes never leave the screen, but he's focusing more on her reflection in the rum of the laptop screen than he is on what's going on in the film.

He can't quite get his head around what she tells him, though, because an alpha who could kill one of their own, and an unborn who could potentially be pack - well, it pains him to even think about. "You know I would never do anything like that, don't you?" He wants her to know that she's safe here, with him, that even when Erica and Boyd told him they were leaving, he didn't stop them; he thinks he should have, now, for their sake rather than his, but he would never kill one of his own, not willingly. "If he ever comes looking for you, I won't let him hurt you. Not again."

She looks up at him, her eyes startled. "Derek, I would never think you would do something like that. Ever." Hard life or not, no matter what, she knows that he wouldn't twist something so innocent into a horrible tragedy. Not on purpose. He's not Markus, and she knows it. He may still be new to being an Alpha, but the broken man who'd confessed to her last night about the pack, and about his fault in what happened just isn't capable of that level of cruelty.

She shifts, putting the laptop in his lap and turning him to face her. Her hands cup his face carefully, making sure he's looking at her. "No matter what has happened, no matter what you may think of yourself, you are not cruel or wasteful of life, Derek." She takes a deep breath. "You are a better person, a better Alpha, and I will keep reminding you of that, because obviously you need it."

Her mouth twitches. "And before you rip Markus's throat out, I'll remind him, smugly, that I hold information that most Alphas will come after him for. And remind him that I have no problem sending other packs after his." She shrugs. "And if you rip his throat out after that, well, so be it."

He visibly relaxes at the words, tension he didn't realise had been building up as she spoke slowly seeping out, and he feels more relieved than he does deserving on them. He's make a lot of mistakes, and he's dug himself into a hole he's still working on climbing out of, but he knows he could never, ever sink as low as her alpha clearly has, not even if he were to gain more power by forming a complete pack again.

His hand automatically reaches out to keep the laptop in place and from tipping over, but he doesn't object when she turns him to look her way. He does need the reminder, but he doesn't tell her as much; he doesn't really care what happens to him, he's not sure if he has for a while, because the point of surviving alone stopped being enough a while ago. But he does care about what happens to her, and he knows she makes him stronger, she already is making him stronger, but it's got nothing to do with adding to the power of the pack.

"You stole my favourite line." His smile is weak, not quite reaching his eyes, but still he tries to make a little light of the topic. He does, after all, enjoy threatening to rip out throats with his teeth. "I would, you know," he confesses in nothing more than a whisper, "If he hurt you." The fact that he bit a hunter not too long ago is a reminder of what he's capable of if he lets his instinct to protect take over, and she got off lightly.

She will always be a part of his pack. She's always wanted to be. Coming here, Brigid has realized that she really wants to marry him still. She wants to honor the deal made long ago between their parents. Not just for his pack, not just for herself. She wants to marry him because she likes him. No matter what has happened, she can tell that the person he is is something she loves and needs in her life.

And Derek seems to need her as well.

"Which one?" Brigid hasn't heard him threaten people's throats. It's a wolf-thing that she's heard others make. She never has, but she's not a fighter. She much prefers taking people down intellectually.

But his threat to Markus makes her mouth twitch just the tiniest bit. She appreciates it, because it's really the first time that anyone has been on her side, and at her defense since her Da died. "I'd let you do it, even if I can't stand the thought of you hurt."

"I'll rip your throat out," he offers, leaning in a little closer, eyes flashing red with a little too much teeth, "With my teeth." He smiles, and this time it does reach his eyes, the corners crinkling slightly with it. He doesn't realise how closer he is, though, until his gaze flickers down to her mouth, and then he's pulling back a little; he doesn't want to take advantage, even though he's tempted. "It's - it was - an old inside family joke. But it used to work on irritating teenagers who enjoy making my life difficult."

He wouldn't do it lightly, though, but he would do it; he did it with Peter, for Laura as much as for his own selfish gain, and to protect Scott from shouldering more responsibility at such a young age when he's barely staying afloat. Or at least those are the reasons he justifies his actions with when he's alone in the dark of night.

"I'd heal." It's true, and as an alpha he heals that much faster, or he did before Erica and Boyd left; he really does need to figure out another member of the pack if they're going to be strong enough to actually come up against another pack, and as much as he had hoped, he doubts Scott will ever agree to join willingly again, especially not after retracting the offer. "But unless word gets out that you're here with me, it'll never come to that."

She almost smiles at the threat, because she knows he'd never do it to her. He might joke, but that's all it would be. Of course, she'd have to point out that he'd have to catch her first.

Brigid is fascinated by his red eyes. Before, they've meant trouble, or orders, or a flexing of power. Now, they mean safety, protection, pack. Everything has changed so quickly, it's enough to take her breath away.

Disappointment flushes through her when he doesn't kiss her. She wishes he would. It wouldn't be her first kiss, but not far from it. Oh well.

"I know you'd heal, but that doesn't mean I want you hurt." She whispers. They all heal. But seeing someone she cares about hurt isn't something she likes to see.

Brigid sighs. "Markus might guess. He might be a brute, but he's not stupid. There aren't many places I would go. And I told Senora Montoya where I was going, since she's handling the sale of the house and the contents." She shrugs. "But again, I have the book, and Da's letter, and the blood work stuff." Her thumbs brush his cheeks again. "And the Hale Alpha. The name still holds weight in some corners. Plus, Markus isn't going to renege on the deal made, if you invoke it."