Lex and Embry fall into an easy rhythm after the day at the diner. No conversations are had about the nature of their relationship, of course, but they spend virtually every free moment together - those moments are particularly fleeting in the mid-term chaos - and that's a-ok in Lex's book. Embry dutifully picks her up for college every morning, always with a sleepy smile that sends her heart into overdrive. She'll miss these trips when she finally purchases her own car, but, for now, seeing Embry every morning is her favourite part of the day. Sometimes she worries that she's a burden to him, noticing the deep shadows under his eyes and perpetually stubbly face, anxious that the detour is depriving him of precious sleep. Lex mentions this one morning, expecting a sigh of agreement, only to be totally caught off guard by his quick shake of the head and reassuring pat on her knee. Embry says something about it being fine, wanting to help her out, but her mind is completely fixated on the fact that he's touching her, his long broad fingers settling to rest across her lower thigh like they were made to be there.
That was the odd thing about Embry. Every action, every gesture felt natural, comfortable, as if they were a well-established pair who knew each other inside and out. She barely knew the man, she'd never trust him fully, and yet he was slowly and surely working his way through her defences in a way that she had never anticipated. Her past told her to run, dip out from his life and be some plain jane somewhere else, but the better-adjusted side (which was making increasing appearances over the last few weeks) said to take a breath and give him a chance. Some days, when the impulses were really bad, Embry was extra cautious with her, moving slowly and sending her sidelong glances that were probably better directed towards a frightened animal. Embry was strange in that way: he could read her like no other, as if he knew what she was thinking, and yet he was compassionate enough to never comment on her strangeness. On her good days, he was always close by, always surprising her with affectionate motions that warmed her from inside. A hand on a forearm, fingers running through hair, warm embraces on the stoop of her home. Small comforts that were quickly becoming habitual, proof that their relationship was progressing to something more familiar than friends.
Embry tries his best to not become too hopeful, thinking hard about Quil's advice to meet her at her level. Lex's level, her needs, were becoming increasingly complicated to gauge, a constant interplay of closer and space that leave his head spinning. He knows she's scared - fuck, that was beyond obvious - and yet he can't figure out why. Kim and Jared had guessed it was something to do with a past partner, but Embry couldn't imagine Lex ever letting someone grow close enough to her to actually have a relationship. He suspects family issues were more likely, and, aside from her occasional odd anecdotes about her father, that topic was wholly off the table. She tended to get a strange, faraway look in her eye whenever she talked about him, especially that day they'd spent hiking in the forest, and Embry was certain he didn't want to revisit that. Instead, he did his best to let her set the pace, attempting to mirror her level of enthusiasm, only really releasing his feelings at night when he'd phase to run out his tensions.
The first time he'd phased to vent some of his imprint angst had caught Seth completely off-guard, who had immediately snapped into protective mode as if it was a real emergency and not another relationship crisis. Seth wasn't expecting to see Embry's softer side, to see the abrupt carousel of images of Lex viewed through a lover's eyes, playing voyeur to a series of intimate observations and pining thoughts. Embry spends plenty of time phased - he's no stranger to the pack mind - and yet he shares little, carefully filtering his thoughts in a bid to protect his privacy. It's not that he's hiding anything, per se, but he's perfectly content with having some secrets, some surprises. He's distantly aware of the fact that he's showing Seth everything, that he's opened Pandora's box and all of his hopes and dreams and desires - oh god, oh fuck - about Lex are escaping. Embry summons every ounce of control he has, conjuring a sequence of entirely boring memories as a distraction from the more revealing images he's unintentionally let loose. He's normally better than this; he doesn't usually struggle to filter his thoughts, and yet they're escaping like the oranges he'd dropped at his mom's store earlier that evening, rolling away faster than he can grasp them.
I'm not going to tell anyone. You don't need to beat yourself up like that.
Embry lowers his head to release a low whine, venting his tension like he's some old-fashioned tea kettle. I think I'm actually going insane, Seth. I feel like I'm seconds from losing my shit, every single day, and somehow Lex is walking around totally fine.
Seth thinks for a little while, his mind offering up flashes of forest as he patrols. Maybe she's just as good at hiding things as you are. Emily reckons the imprint goes both ways.
That suggestion makes Embry feel even worse. The thought of Lex lying awake late at night, stomach tied in knots with some inexplicable tension, sends his heart into a series of spasms. He can't bear the thought of her feeling like he does, as if he's missing some central part of his system, but the inverse is worse: the thought that she feels absolutely nothing in his absence.
Okay, okay. That's not what I meant, Seth thinks, hurriedly backtracking. I just meant that she's probably feeling more attached to you than she's letting on. Don't think about her upset. It doesn't fix anything.
Embry paces tight circles of the clearing, scratching unintelligible marks into the dirt floor as he makes his rounds. Seth's right -
Always am!
Jesus, kid, don't push your luck, Embry grumbles, though he's feeling a little lighter than before. He's spent the past month trying not to think about Lex - fail, fail, fail - especially while phased, and keeping a tight rein on his thoughts has him exhausted. It's hard, he thinks, trying to pretend like she doesn't occupy approximately ninety percent of his waking brain activity (one hundred percent of his dream activity, too, for the record).
Ugh, ew, please don't think about sex dreams. I've seen enough, Seth whines, accidentally recalling an image gleaned from one of Paul's raunchy memories. That's more than enough for Embry to phase out - Rachel's practically a sister to him, and he's seen way too much of her bare ass lately for him to feel comfortable. That was one of the big things that got on Jake's nerves before he moved away, one of the only things that could get him phased in a millisecond. They've grown up since then, getting a better hold on their phasing, but Embry's positive that one afternoon in La Push would put Jacob on the brink of an aneurysm. He makes a mental note to buy aspirin before Jake's next visit to the Rez.
Embry ends up phasing every single day that week, and multiple times a day the week after. He's not losing his control, he tells himself as he dresses after his second phase on Friday, the thought sending tense ripples down his spine. He takes a deep, calming breath, flexing his fingers repetitively in an attempt to ground himself. He's got a mile-long list of all the things bothering him lately, and he can't recall a single one without inducing a slight tremble. Phasing had always been easy for Embry (perhaps too easy, he thinks, ruefully) but it feels as if everything has him on edge lately. Assignments. The patrol roster. His mom's new employee. The caf's constant shortage of croissants. Lex.
He swears, jerking his hand carelessly, popping the button off his well-worn cut-offs. Embry refuses to believe that Lex has anything to do with his control, or lack thereof, despite the fact that half of his worries lately have been centred on her. Lex is around, doing fine, according to Kim, but between assignments and work and placements he hasn't seen her for more than a few minutes here and there. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't stoop to creeping, but he's passed her house more than a dozen times in the past week without finding the courage to knock on her door even once. Maybe if she'd texted, sought out his presence, it would be okay, he rationalises, trying to imagine a situation in which she'd be enthusiastic to see him. He imagines her texting him, sans her usual aloofness, summoning him into the depths of her home, up those stairs into her bedroom. She'd stretch her arms up to wrap around his neck, pressing her small body against his. He imagines the way his hands would grasp at her waist, how he'd duck his head low to press his mouth onto hers, savouring the way she'd coyly pull him closer, wanting more more more.
Embry blinks, once, twice, three times. He can hear his pulse thrumming in his eardrums, can feel the slick sweat on his palms, the friction in his jeans. He misses her, and he needs her, in more ways than he can truly articulate. One part of him wants to look out for her every need, protecting her feelings and her heart and giving her that friendship that she craves. The other side of him, the carnal, wolf, side, wants to satisfy every desire that lurks below the surface, taking care of her entire being. He tries not to let his wolf loose too often, acknowledging these thoughts sparingly in the shower, or in his bed, alone, late at night. That's been enough to satisfy his wolf, to help restrain the jolts of passion during the day, and he's been perfectly gentlemanly and chaste and appropriate in her presence. So, he thinks, rubbing his temples a little too firmly, what the fuck was that? He can't have this happening - he can't be springing a semi every time he thinks about missing her - and he definitely can't lose his grip on his phasing. The only thing worse than not seeing Lex because she's busy, he thinks, is not seeing her because I'll claw her face off.
He winces at the thought, cursing it for crossing his mind. He'd never harm her, he's sure of that, but he dreads the idea of having to hold her at arm's length to keep her protected. Embry drops his head into his hands, crouching low in the tree line in some strange bent over position. He needs to get it together. He needs to take a breath, get his head on straight, and wrangle his controlled self back into the driver's seat. Most of all, he needs to crate his goddamn wolf that keeps escaping the confines of its pen to roam unchecked in his psyche.
"Em, you good?" Quil calls, descending the back porch steps in a flash to cross the yard. Embry can hear him nearing the tree line, betrayed by his heavy footfalls that crush every leaf in their proximity.
Embry looks up at Quil, surely looking a sorry mess with his crouched stance and pained expression. To his credit, Quil says nothing, instead lowering his hulking form to sit beside him. They sit in silence for a few moments, listening only to the sounds of the birds fluttering above them, the wind rustling in the trees, that godforsaken dog two streets over whose incessant barking keeps them awake at night.
"What's going on?" he asks, his voice a soft murmur that's a far cry from his usual exuberance. He doesn't often see Quil like this, serious and compassionate and focused. The last time he saw Quil this sedate was when Jake left for the last time, the time when their trio finally split.
Embry rubs the back of his neck with unnecessary vigour, his fingers brutally manipulating the skin at the base of his skull. It hurts, but it's a feeling, a human feeling, and that's better than feeling nothing at all. "I'm losing my control," he mutters, ashamed. It feels like a curse to admit that, out loud, transmuting the unconscious fear into something tangible.
Quil sighs, long and heavy, eerily reminiscent of his grandfather in the way he holds himself, the way he frowns. Embry makes a mental note to rib him about the resemblance later when they're less serious, less haggard. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it's Lex."
It's animalistic, raw, in the way the growl escapes from his throat, low and rumbling, before he manages to restrain himself. "Fuck, Quil. I didn't mean that," he utters.
Quil shakes his head. "Instinct. I get it. But I meant what I said. When I'm apart from Claire for too long, when we aren't really connecting, I can't stay human for long. I can't keep my spirit in check. It's like my wolf's escaping to get what it needs."
"Shit. That's scary," Embry says, feeling his skin prickle. The thought of being untamed, of feeling his spirit separate from his human instincts like the way things were when he first phased, terrifies him. He can't go back to that. He refuses.
"Yeah. It is. You need to find a way to spend more time with her, proper time, not that bullshit taxi service you're running. If you can get her to hug you that'll help calm the wolf. Maybe talk to Jared about that part," Quil says, rubbing his jaw tiredly. They're tired - so fucking tired - between college and patrol and these goddamn imprints and it's taking it out of them, leaving them passed out on the living room sofas before the clock makes it to seven-thirty on a weeknight. He can't help but think about how unfair it all is, how exhausting it is to carry the future of the tribe on their backs, something that sends a white-hot flash of anger jolting down his spine. It's quick, jarring and electric, and then it's gone, a brief shiver of rage quelled by his friend's comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You're going to be okay. Can you come be depressed inside? I'm missing the seventh inning," Quil says, clasping his hands together in an attempt at pleading. Embry snorts at the sudden change in tone - seriously, baseball, right now? - and that's enough for Quil to shout a brief thanks over his shoulder as he hightails it back into the bungalow. He's ridiculous, insane at times, but as Embry stands up and dusts the dirt off his legs, he can't help but be grateful for the fool stretched out in front of the television, swearing and yelling and - oh god, really? - crying over the game. Quil's unreserved chaos makes him the perfect foil to Embry's temperamental nature, his all-too-frequent bouts of overthinking, and in a way, he's grateful for the way the spirits have cemented their bond. It almost makes all the other complications of being a wolf worth it.
Embry's awoken from his pleasant slumber on the couch by a rough hand shaking him, startling him so severely that he clumsily rolls to the floor. He curses loudly, swiping his balled-up fists across his eyes to clear his vision. He squints up at the figure above him, blearily making out Jared's impatient form.
"Lex is over at Kim's. Let's go," he says, eyes flickering between Embry and the phone in his hand. Embry doesn't need to be told twice - he's on his feet and starting towards the door in an instant, his mind still reeling from yet another dream he's had of her.
Jared barks out a short laugh. "Dude, shirt."
Embry spins around, confused, suddenly realising his half-dressed slobby state. He definitely doesn't want Lex to see him in his tatty old shorts, plucked from the stack of shabby clothes that he uses for shifting. Granted, those items make up the majority of his closet, but she doesn't need to know that. He quickly strips down, changing into a more presentable pair of jeans and a form-fitting tee. Embry's constantly forced to relive memories of Kim lusting over Jared in tight clothing, and he can only hope that his dress sense has the same effect on Lex. She'd never acknowledge it, but there's no harm in trying, he thinks, hurrying out of the house to catch up with Jared, who clearly wasted no time waiting for him. Kim lives less than a mile away, and with every step, Embry can feel his stomach clenching and twisting and turning, anxious at the thought of being close to Lex. He sends a silent prayer to the spirits, begging and pleading for her to be in one of her more sociable moods, hoping that tonight will finally give him a break. God knows he needs it.
They arrive at Kim's all too soon, and if it wasn't for Jared's self-indulgent smirk, he'd definitely have a small freak-out on her porch. Instead, just to spite Jared, he lithely scales the porch steps to rap on the wooden door, feeling a little lightheaded at the thought of Lex answering. Surprisingly, the door's yanked open by Quil, face alight with a goofy grin that makes Embry want to slap him. The hell is Quil doing here, hanging out with his imprint without him?
"Finally, man! Playing bartender for these two is exhausting work," he dramatically groans, holding his plastic cup out to Embry as a peace offering. Embry sniffs the drink cautiously, nearly gagging at the acrid smell of dark spirits.
"Jesus, are you even mixing these? Please tell me you haven't poisoned them," he says, only partly in jest. Embry's tolerance for liquor is good, no, excellent, but he's hardly sure that the girls could endure too many of Quil's concoctions. Jared's seemingly on the same wavelength, squeezing past them in the tight hallway to seek out Kim. Embry hears him groan, and he knows he's in for some kind of scene. And sure enough, as he rounds the corner to join them in the living room, he's greeted with the kind of gaiety that only drunk people can muster.
"Embry! You came!" Lex squeals, slipping off the couch in her excitement, sending her and Kim into a fresh wave of giggles. The sound is light and buoyant, entirely foreign to Embry's ears. Lex? Giggling? In which universe?
"Wow, Em, looks like neither of you can stay on a couch," Jared teases, earning him a hard slap in the chest.
Quil says something to him, and he mumbles something unintelligible in reply, though he's totally and utterly hypnotised by the sight of Lex, happy. She's clutching one of Quil's drinks with both hands, grasping it protectively like its a lifeline. He can hear her laughing about something with Kim, her voice bolder than he's ever heard, and her drunken confidence is mesmerising. Embry rarely sees Lex open and unreserved, and seeing her stretched out on Kim's living room rug, hair tousled and clothing askew, is a kind of awakening for him. It takes every shred of his self-control to cross the room slowly to reach her, to lower himself onto the sofa, denying his sudden desire to curl up beside her on the floor. Lex tips her head back to greet him, momentarily losing her balance, and for a dreaded moment, he worries the contents of the cup will escape, seeping into the carpet. Instead, she rights herself, passing him the drink which he promptly finishes - she certainly doesn't need any more.
He isn't expecting much - she'll sit there, across from him on the rug, and maybe she'll talk a little. No, he isn't expecting much, and so when she begins to crawl towards him he feels like he's about to self-combust with a mixture of awkwardness and desire. Quil, cackling from his vantage point across the room, certainly isn't helping his comfort level either, and he tries to subtly give him the finger without Lex noticing. Judging by her fluttering eyelids and unsteady posture, she isn't really in a state to call him out on his behaviour, and for that, he's immensely thankful. Still, as Lex makes her way towards him, he forces himself to avert his eyes, filing that image under things to conceal from the pack mind. After a torturous few moments, she finally makes it to the sofa, almost climbing into his lap in her enthusiasm to sit beside him. Embry sucks in one long breath, thinking about math class, grocery stocktake, Old Quil, before he allows himself to relax beside her.
"Hey, you. Looks like you and Kim have had a good night," he says, hesitantly stretching his arm out to curl around her shoulders. This is new, uncharted territory, and he's nervous that one wrong move will ruin it. She doesn't seem to notice his nervousness, though, relaxing into his side comfortably, as if it's something she's done plenty of times before. When she looks up at him, gazing at him with those unfocused dark eyes, he feels dizzy, like he's about to float away into the clouds, off to somewhere where it's just the two of them.
"I've been waiting for you to come," she says sleepily, resting her hand on his forearm, and he feels like all of the air is leaving his lungs. He forces himself to swallow, to keep his mind in the present, even though it feels completely overwhelming and, quite frankly, terrifying. He's not inexperienced - he's been on a few dates, gotten physical a couple of times, and still, a little attention from Lex leaves his mouth dryer than the Sahara. Embry feels himself tremble slightly as she squeezes his arm, and for one heart-wrenching moment, he fears that he's going to lose his control. Belatedly, he realises that it's not a precursor to phasing; rather, it's the manifestation of his nerves, and somehow, that's worse.
Lex lowers her head to rest on his chest, turning her face inward to press against his torso. His hand shakes when he raises it to rest on her neck, eventually finding the nerve to lightly stroke her hair. She lets out a low hum of satisfaction that has his wolf thrumming contentedly, finally satiated by the close contact. If he's honest, he'd admit that he could easily spend hours running his hands through her silky hair, savouring the way the strands curl around his fingers. He could spend hours admiring her, exploring and appreciating every aspect of her beauty, and he wishes that he could have had this moment with her sober. The logical side of his brain knows that sober Lex would never cuddle him like this, and still, he selfishly lets her wrap herself around him, lets her hands trace lazy circles on his chest, relishing every ounce of attention she'll finally give him.
He's distantly aware of someone flicking on a movie, one of the Star Wars films that he'd normally be riveted by, but he can't take his eyes off her. This moment will have to be enough to satisfy him for weeks to come and he's dedicated to committing every detail to memory to replay again and again in his mind. Eventually, her hands fall still, her body soft and pliant against his as she sleeps. Embry carefully shifts his body to stretch out on the cushions, tugging her closer as his eyes droop. Sleep creeps up on him despite his best attempts to repel his fatigue, to remain awake and present in his own kind of heaven, and his last waking memory is of pressing his nose against her neck, taking in her irresistible scent. By the time that morning rolls around, Lex will be gone, but for now, the moment is perfect, the two of them curled up in a tableau that Embry will force Quil to remember again and again until he claims amnesia. The night is perfect, unbelievable, even, and as he drifts to sleep he hopes with all of his heart that it will be the first of many evenings spent together.
A/N: Early update since I managed to get my shit together! I'll make y'all a deal - two reviews on this chapter and I'll post the next chapter early, too.