A little were!Virgil ficlet.

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Alan knew his brother had to get out of the cabin. He knew he loved to run free on the mountain side.

He also knew that his brother often returned early or denied himself that freedom because he knew Alan was too young to stay out very long in the cold. Virgil was ever attentive to his needs.

But the fact was that Alan hated it when Virgil was gone regardless.

This time there had been no denying Virgil the release. One hell of a mission, injury, death and grief, had seen Grandma shut down International Rescue and escort all five of them off the Island, up to the cabin in Canada, for a week's long rest.

Scott was not himself. Not with an arm in sling preventing him from flying anywhere. Virgil wasn't much better with stitches in his side and the two had been at loggerheads the entire trip across the Pacific Ocean.

It sucked to have his big brothers upset at each other. John was the one who ended up resting a hand on his shoulder and whispering a few quiet words.

Alan knew Scott and Virgil would get over it, it was just living through it in the meantime.

The moment their luggage was in the house and everything accounted for, Virgil had shed his shirt, discarding it on the lounge, and disappeared.

Grandma had spent the last hour talking Scott down as a result.

Alan was angry with Virgil for running off like that, but as the sun was setting and the full moon already rising, he knew why.

And wished he could join him.

He retired to his own room to transform. It was a private matter and saved his clothing, and his dignity when he got caught up in his own underwear. Of course, it led him to worrying about Virgil out there alone on the snowy mountainside. The thought of him hurting, set Alan whining.

Of course, Grandma heard him. As he slipped from his room, she scooped him up and held him close. "It will be okay, honey. You know that."

There were protests far too complicated for canine jaws on his lips. They came out as whimpers and whines that just had Grandma holding him tighter.

She kissed his puppy forehead and held him closer.

"Come with me." She carried him downstairs to the living room and gently deposited him on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen.

That fact was a little terrifying, but he knew she meant well.

Virgil's discarded shirt caught his eye.

The sight of it brought all his anxieties to the fore once again.

Virgil was safe out there. He was experienced. He knew what he was doing.

But it was the way he had left. Without a word. Injured and so out of character.

It wasn't right.

Alan stepped quietly on the sofa cushions until he could reach the garment with his nose.

The soft scent of family canine, a touch of grease, medication and something just Virgil.

Alan closed his eyes and buried his face in the material.

For a long time, those scents, bar the medication, had been ones of safety and reassurance. He curled up in the soft flannel, quite happy when the shirt half fell on him as he lay down. It wrapped him in familiarity.

He wanted nothing more than for his brother to return home safe.

He must have fallen asleep, the stresses of the day catching up with him, because time drifted.

At one point he heard Scott's voice, felt fingers combing gently through his fur, but Alan was too tired to wake fully and Grandma's voice lulled him back to sleep.

A little later a cold rush of air tickled his nose and Grandma addressed someone quite sternly. Alan frowned and twitched, barely conscious, but again, fingers lulled him, this time followed by the gentle touch of a cool, wet nose and warm breath.

Comfort washed over him and he sank into relief. Warmth wrapped him up and he relaxed into an ever so safe oblivion.

He was unsurprised when he woke just before dawn to find himself buried in thick black fur. His brother barely fit on the couch, but had somehow managed to curl around him, his great ribcage rising and dipping in the regularity of sleep.

He smelt of pine and wet canine, but he was dry. Grandma had obviously had a towel as well as stern words.

There was a flicker of anger in Alan's throat, but was overwhelmed by the relief of having his brother safe and home.

Things were not okay. That was obvious and would likely need more talk and likely arguments. It was part and parcel of being part of this family. But for this moment, Alan was warm and safe, wrapped in his wolf brother.

He nuzzled into Virgil's fur, a soft whine winding through his teeth.

The great wolf grumbled and shifted, knocking the shirt still hanging off the back of the couch on top of both of them.

Another grumble and Virgil relaxed back into sleep.

Alan's heart swelled just a little as he snuggled closer and joined him.

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