Eric wakes up like a child.

"Anna." Poke. "Anna."

I groan, grabbing my pillow and smashing it to the man against my back. "What." The red digits of the clock flash mockingly. It's 7:23 am, there's seven more minutes of sleep left. Furthermore, the sheets are cool and Eric is warm. It is the perfect environment to hibernate.

He tosses the pillow to the space beside me. I grab it and prop my head again. "There's a cockroach on the table."

I deadpan. "Then kill it. You're Eric." I don't recall seeing cockroaches anywhere in my apartment, even during my spring cleaning.

The arm around my waist tightens. He presses in my hair, mumbling. "But I'm scared."

My eye twitches. I count to five and draw a deep breath. Cursing incoherently, I stretch to my side's table and flick the lights on. The sudden flash of brightness hurts my eyes. Squinting, I unceremoniously lift myself off and out of his embrace to face the said cockroach location. My eyes linger on the wooden surface, blinking and narrowing as if it would clear my vision. There's nothing there except his gun and phone. "Where is it?"

He's grinning. It's amazing how fresh he looks despite having just woke. His eyes are bright, no sign of sleepiness in sight.

I stare back, bleary-eyed. "There wasn't a cockroach, was there?" I ask flatly, already knowing the answer. I reach for the glass of water on the table, taking a sip. Part of me wants to throw the rest on his face. He's lucky though, for there's one thing stopping me.

I'll have to change the sheets.

And I just did that yesterday.

"I wanted to see you wake up pissed," comes his cheeky reply.

I slam the light switch and collapse back in bed. Twisting behind, I grab his heavy arm and sling it back around my waist. Unbelievable. "Screw off."

He keeps his arm there, but his reply is shit-eating. "I believe the correct term is fuck off."

"I don't care."

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds is all I get before he's back at it again. "Anna." Poke. "Anna." He's jabbing a finger on my side. One eye opens. It's 7:26 am. Poke. "Anna."

My fist clenches around the pillow and I swing it at him full force. He grunts as it collides with his face. I twist over to find him sitting up. The lamp on his side glows, and I don't recall hearing him switch it on.

Huh.

Maybe I did sleep for more than ten seconds.

"I swear if it's another-"

"Do you want to go for a run?" His hands are clasps loosely on top of the pillow on his lap. A look of utter innocence and good intentions plastered for added effect.

I wait, half expecting him to blurt out he's joking, but he doesn't. He wears a half-serious, half-amused expression, like my irritation is the funniest thing ever. I scowl, grabbing the sheets and flipping it over my head. "Put on a shirt and fuck off."

"Only if you'll wear it to sleep the night before," he sings, climbing out of bed.

I don't reply, petulantly flipping the bird.

Eric wears a shirt.

I had planned to fall back to sleep, leave Eric hanging on his stupid run.

My dogs had other plans.

The bastard had woken them up, fully knowing they'll pester me till I haul my ass out of bed. Now he stands at my front door, blocking the exit with his huge ass physique. I thought he would be smug when he saw me, happy his plan had worked out.

But no, I get a frowning kicked puppy.

"No."

No hi, no good morning, no sorry for pissing you off; only no.

He crosses his beefy arms, chest puffed out. "Absolutely not." His image brings me back to initiation. This is how he appears when the initiates are too slow - on the brink of ripping their heads off. I would've been intimidated... if it weren't for the fact that Eric's never serious with me.

"What?" The dogs weave around each other, tangling the leashes. They are understandably impatient. Their bladders haven't been emptied for over seven hours. I swear Hawk is glaring at the man blocking the exit.

Eric's wearing a modest dark blue dry-fit shirt, and an equally modest running pants. Who the heck runs in pants? I figured a tank and shorts were more his style. Perhaps wearing heaty combat pants all day must have accustomed him to unnecessary heat. I won't complain though, he still looks delectable, if not more.

"This," he points at the shorts like there's a cockroach on it. I don't like it."

I frown and look down. This design is my new favorite, coming up just below mid-thigh. The black running shorts is in two layers. The inner is smooth fitting, hugging my thighs like a second skin, while the outer is airy with little holes on the sides. The lady managing the store was concerned when she saw me picked out one with maroon outlines. Something about me shaking the item like a lunatic and talking to my dogs did not settle well with her. She had asked me if I was on meds at the checkout. I was too excited to reply.

"But I like it." I suppose it is short; shorter than anything I've ever dared worn, but not that short. Dauntless is starting to rub off me.

"I know, and so will the rest of the male population."

I crane my neck and squint, finding a flaw in his words. "That includes you too."

"Well, yes," he agrees begrudgingly. He glances at what's left of my legs - my dogs are blocking most - appreciatively. I raise a brow.

Sabre takes this moment to lunge for the exit, unintentionally deciding that I'll win this squabble. He doesn't pull with enough force to tip me over, but I pretend it does. The other two quickly get the hint and play along. "But I rather you save it for when we're alone." Eric doesn't grab my arm as I squeeze past him. He must've figured it will be pointless unless he wanted to stop three large canines too.

I love my boys.

"Except that I'm not planning to run in the apartment," I toss over my shoulder. "Plus, my calves are not the ideal small. I'm sure the men wouldn't bat an eye." My calves are noticeably bigger than the smooth slender ones I see practically everywhere. Lucky for me, it's proportionate, granted, disputably. Mom told me it's genetics, and it'll grow out when I grew taller – I didn't. It made me self-conscious during my teens. Although some kind souls did compliment how 'badass' and 'cool' they are, I knew they wouldn't want to have them, given the option.

I like them now, though. Took a while.

"I like them!" Eric protests a little too enthusiastically, and I try not to shoot him a pointed look. I wouldn't be surprised if the reason behind is because it's virtually a mini version of his - if not bigger. He falls in step with me. The dogs are impatient, keeping the pace swift. "They are sexy as hell and even beat most men here."

"Except that I'm not a man, and you're an anomaly." I point out blatantly. He grunts in response. "Where to? Loading-bay?"

He lifts an arm at the right of a convergence. "Turn here."

"The back exit?" I ask, surprised. There wasn't much there, just a slightly denser, untouched woodland. I bring my dogs there whenever I brush out their coats, which is technically every other day. There's a designated growing pile of fur with how much they all shed. I'd like to think it's a bedding bank for birds to use for their nests.

"Something like that. There's a door at the end leading to the city, there isn't much vegetation." The dogs' aren't bothered with the change in direction. The leash remains slack, the trio already heading down the path the moment we diverge from the normal route with the faintest movement of the metal clasps. Extremely intelligent animals, inclined to the directions of our steps despite them being ahead.

"You jog every morning?" It'll do me some good if I start this routine too. Ever since my dogs, most of my physical exercises consist of carrying or struggling against sheer teeth and force. Sure, I still come out of training sweaty and aching, but the sensations are only the result of inflictions. And the dogs can never get enough exercise, so they'll benefit from this too.

Eric shrugs. "Sometimes, when I'm lazy to think." He pushes the horizontal door handle down and holds the door open for me to pass. "Other times I'm at the Leader's private training room." I blink. His eyes light up as he realizes. "I'm supposed to bring you there, actually. One of the training fields is physical, we can do it in the mornings if you'd like. It's not a big deal, just brushing up the skills you've learned. Most of it is to your own discernment."

I drop to a squat to remove the leashes and muzzles. Sabre and Hawk wear the smaller vests, only needing to carry their leashes, muzzles, and nylon rope. Gunner wears the larger one. He carries the emergency supplies; a thin tarpaulin sheet, a tiny medicinal aerosol, a first aid pack. As well as a hip flask of water and my belongings. The reason being that he's the least likely to roll around in dirt or be bullied by the other two – solely because of his size. He's also the most likely to stay by me in the event of a threat.

"Sure. Evenings or nights may be better though, I have to bring my dogs out in the morning." I grab my mobile and pocket knife from the shallow pocket on the back of my shorts. There's a text from Four saying he's unable to make it for training again. I slip them into a compartment and look to Eric. "Want him to keep yours?"

He passes it to me, peaking over to see what else I've stashed. "You're not carrying the knife?" there isn't alarm in his tone, only curiosity. I believe he's implying the possibility of danger. Especially with the recent factionless attack, I half expect him to have me adopt his hidden holster attire. I wouldn't object to the suggestion...

Once I get the hang of shooting.

"No. My dogs are quicker than me throwing a knife. It's just here in case I need it. Gunner will come over if anything happens." He's confused by my words.

I squeeze my hands into fists, suddenly nervous. Patting Gunner's rump once, he trots off in search of his own release. "I'll show you." It's risky business. This may spark an argument over me keeping secrets. And I'll agree it's my fault; I'll take full responsibility for not telling him sooner.

"You free after five this evening? There's something I want you to see." This needs to be off my chest as soon as possible. I just hope he'll take it in stride.

He agrees.

The banana bounces off the table and falls to the floor.

I have a horrible habit of flash panicking when confronted, especially when it's sudden and unpredicted.

A hand slickly snatches it up before any of my dogs can process what has happened. "Please don't tell him. He'll have my head." Before me is a man I have no intention of confronting, but knew it was ultimately inevitable. He has his hands clasped around the fruit, moving forward and back in a pleading motion. The dogs stare at him funny. Their glances alternate between him and me, unsure of how to react. Time stretches on with him still pleading and I struck dumb.

It's only when someone behind clears their throat do I resume loading my lunch. "Sorry," I apologize to the man behind me. He replies with a disgruntled grunt and a 'hurry up'.

"I just want to talk." The silver-haired man glances around furtively, nervous. It's like he's expecting something to jump on him.

Today's selection is Aglio e oglio and grilled chicken. My face falls. The mess hall doesn't produce good pasta. The spaghetti always tastes fake and disgustingly oily, regardless of the sauce. I should've gone to a restaurant. "And apologize," he adds hopefully.

I definitely should've opted for a restaurant.

My eyes shut and I mentally pinch the bridge of my nose. Facing Axel was something I knew I had to do, but I was hoping it would be a day where Eric was around. He still scares the crap out of me. Every time he comes to mind consists of him accusing and kicking me out of Chase Tag.

"Okay," I agree, speaking more to myself, "Okay."

Having lunch with him isn't the worse thing ever. My dogs are with me, they would help dissipate the situation. It's good that we're having this now. Now is a good time to smoothen out all the creases and move on. I assure myself that everything will be fine, and not to blow up into a blubbering mess.

He expresses his gratitude with overwhelming enthusiasm, informing me that he'll go grab his plate so we can talk at Eric and I's table. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he leaves with the banana still in hand. I'm unsure if he's keeping it or not.

"Is he coming?" Axel whispers like we're operatives on a top-secret mission in a three-digit movie. His eyes dart around the mess hall fearfully, expecting to be caught.

"Eric?" I ask.

"Yes, Eric!" he hisses impatiently. The tray of food is still in his grip and so is my banana. "Is he coming?"

"Eric's at Abnegation."

At the sound of the faction, Axel audibly drops his tray in relief. I watch the chicken bounce off the plate, landing with a splat. "Thank you. Thank you." He slips into the bench across me, looking less like a deer ready to bolt.

Eric outright hates Abnegation; more than Amity, Erudite, and Candor combined, apparently. If Jessica is a bitch, then Marcus is unquestionably the bitch king. You'll hate him. Eric had told me when I asked if I could come along. I didn't push further, starting to see a trend. Whoever Eric disliked, I disliked too – except Johanna of course, but that's only because she's biased towards me. "He's meeting with Marcus on the factionless and whatnot."

Axel nods and reaffirms Eric's prediction. "I don't get why Eric's still doing it." He frowns as he speaks, completely moved on from the frightful situation mere seconds ago. "Marcus is a dick. Sure, it's Eric's role, but Max should be the doing it instead, he's much more tolerant." Max is weird – for a lack of a better word. Working with Eric to the hip, I often wonder what the head of Dauntless does. Eric, Kyle, and Veronica are the ones carrying the faction on their shoulders.

"I'm sorry for scaring you earlier, it's just been so hard to catch you alone." Eric's friend rubs his neck awkwardly, averting his gaze. "You're not here all the time and whenever you are, Eric's with you." He extends the fruit to me, apologetic.

I grab it, careful not to touch him. "It's fine."

It's not, my heart had shot up faster than a gunfire when I heard his voice right beside me. "I usually eat in the office or my apartment." I take two bites of the banana and offer the rest to my dogs.

"You cook?" he asks politely. I've decided on my walk to the table to behave civilly. After all, he is Eric's friend. The least I can do is to be nice.

I shrug, digging into my unappetizing food. "Sometimes. Other times it's Eric." I suppress a grimace on the first bite of the chicken. The skin is overly seasoned, drying up all moisture in my mouth immediately.

His posture straightens, eyes widening. "Eric's cooking again?" Axel's dark brows don't contrast too greatly from his hair. Like me, he's due for a touch-up, his naturally dark hair noticeable at the roots. The front of his hair is messily gelled to stand, creating a replica of a wave before it hits the shores.

I have an inkling on what he meant by 'again'. Eric must've gone on a hiatus, possibly after his sister had passed. "Yeah. He's a pretty good cook." To the point that I'm unfortunately developing a dislike for the food here.

"Wow," he says. His twirl of pasta is suspended in the air, not planning to be consumed anytime soon. "I mean, it's not a huge surprise but… wow." He leans back, staring at me eat with new eyes.

It's a little uncomfortable.

We slip into silence. I take this moment to keep my head down and shovel in my lunch. Axel seems decent when he isn't attacking me, normal even. I'll give him a chance, I guess. Eric doesn't appear to be getting rid of him anytime soon.

Our run this morning was tiring. I suspected Eric was testing my stamina, leading us further into the city with many twists and turns that I gave up trying to remember the route. He teased me when I started huffing, being not used to half-sprinting for over a mile. Eventually, he slowed, decreasing the pace to something where my legs no longer feel like detaching. Took me a while to get him to that point. I tried throwing a few 'asswipe's around to speed the process, but he only laughed, and mock me back in a girly voice which comes nothing close to mine.

The dogs were having the time of their lives, sprinting ahead to only run back to us, as if our extended walk wasn't enough. They are pretty cracked when it comes to anything physical. Their energy levels never drop to what is deemed appropriate, especially Hawk and Sabre. Gunner is only marginally closer to a standard Dauntless male.

He tends to pass out sitting on the chair across me with his head on the desk. It's a new favorite pastime of his – rotating between watching me work at eye-level and napping. Eric finds it extremely cute, not that he's expressed it verbally. I can tell by how animatedly he gestures to ask if my boy has fallen asleep. Once I nod in confirmation, Eric will go through vast lengths to ensure he nor I will wake him. He threatened me with his fists through the window the other day when I suggested we meet at his office instead of the slow texts.

Axel clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a tissue. I'm barely halfway, the taste of everything making the meal painstakingly slow. "I've been wanting to apologize on what I said the other night." I shove food in my mouth to remove the need for a response. "I'm sorry. I was just looking out for Eric. He's new to this, so I figured he needed some… help in… choosing a suitable woman." I lift an eyebrow and recoil slightly. Eric seems pretty picky to me, at least, when it comes to finding an official partner. I don't believe he needs help in knowing which is his type.

"You look frightened, are you frightened? Did I scare you?" I blink. Axel slumps and looks away, flustered. "Eric told me I'm absolute crap with my words. I'm sorry if I made it sound as if you weren't suitable. You are suitable. You and Eric are a good match. Perfect match. Very, very good together. I think." He sucks in deeply and snaps his eyes to me. "Please respond."

I'm not sure what to say.

A beat of silences passes. Axel sighs, exaggeratingly dragging a hand down his face. The hand pauses on his face, covering it. "I fucked up, didn't I? Please don't speed dial Eric."

"What's speed dial?"

Fingers move to expose parts of his eyes. "You don't have him on speed dial?" he asks hopefully. The hand falls and he straightens. "Please tell me you don't."

"What's speed dial?" I ask again. Eric has never mentioned the term anywhere, not even in the abbreviations.

Axel sighs in relief. "Okay. So you don't. Speed dial is essentially... speed dialing a person. You go to the keypad and hold a key. Usually, it's one, but you can set for any button you want. It immediately calls the person you assigned the number to, instead of needing to scroll through contacts."

"Oh." I hold 1 on the keypad. After two seconds, Eric's ID fills the screen.

Axel's eyes widen as he realizes what I'm doing. "Wait, you're not-" He lunges forward. He's almost close enough to snatch my phone, but three sharp looks from my dogs stops him.

Eric answers on the third ring.

I grin. "Hi Eric." Across me, his friend is sliding a finger across his neck furiously. I believe he's asking me to end the call, but I can't be sure.

"Hi Anna." There's a rough male voice in the background saying something incoherent. The stranger sounds irritated. I smirk briefly at successfully stealing Eric away. Other than the man, I don't hear anything else. "What's wrong?"

I bite my lip, glancing at Axel. He's paled considerably, no longer making frantic gestures; accepting his fate. It's a nice sight to see. "Nothing." I idly trail my fingers down Gunner's leg, feeling the soft fur.

He's unconvinced. "Are you sure?" The male voice stops talking. There is no more background noise.

"Yep!" Inside, I'm giggling. I like hearing Eric's voice. "Bye!"

I hang up.

"Thanks. Almost died there." Axel gives me a half-hearted thumbs up. Turning back to him, he has aged a few years this last minute. "He banned me from interacting with you. Said that he'll deliver my tongue on a silver platter if I were to ever come near you again."

Sounds very Eric. I wouldn't have objected one bit.

"I just want to set things straight. I noticed that you haven't been playing Chase Tag after that night. And I'm sorry for scaring you off." I mentally cringe. He must've akin me to a butthurt child, which I guess I am, to some extent.

I attempt to salvage what dignity I have left. "Nah, I've just been busy now the dogs here. They require a lot of grooming every week. I haven't found much time for Chase Tag." What I said is true, mostly. I spend an hour three times a week brushing their fur – four for Gunner - along with blowing out whatever I missed on Sundays. They get a bath too, every alternate week.

These boys live like kings. Their fur is pristine, the food is lavish, and their beds are grand – couches. They're tucked into bed every night. I wrap them in their respective blankets and toys, tell them how freaking adorable they are, kiss them on their foreheads, and finally tell them not to do anything stupid.

Sometimes, I wish I were them instead.

He eyes me skeptically, finding it hard to grasp the fact these meticulously groomed animals require that much care. "If you say so…"

"What's a threesum?" I blurt out randomly. The word came to me suddenly. I could have asked Eric later, but the man who spoke it is right here.

Axel chokes on his saliva and grips his jacket like he can no longer breathe. "A threesome?! Where did you hear that?"

"You suggested it to Eric," I reply simply. From the way his eyes widen to saucers, I know he too, has no recollection. "He told me on the night he was drunk. Last week or something. He said he punched you in the face."

Recognition fills his face, as well as dread. "I don't think he remembers that, please don't tell him," he pleads.

"But what does it mean?" The only thing Axel ever says is 'don't tell Eric'. Always don't tell Eric this, don't tell Eric that. Never does he tell me what exactly I'm supposed to not tell him.

"I think it's best you not know." I roll my eyes. "Because..."

My phone vibrates. Eric is calling again.

I snatch the phone before Axel can react, slamming my thumb on the green button. "Hi Eric."

"Say 'dinner' if you're not fine, 'cookie' if you really, really are." Axel clasps his hands in front of him and starts silently pleading. "Or 'lunch' if there's somebody who needs beating up." There's no noise in the background like earlier. His meeting must've ended already.

I grin mischievously. And in that exact moment, Axel knows he's fucked. "Cookie. But I have a question." His assumed best friend jumps from his bench. He stumbles to the narrow walkway, falling to his knees before me. I can't say I'm not enjoying this. Just a small payback for traumatizing the heck out of me.

"What?"

My fingers tremble with excitement. I clench the phone tighter and Axel shakes his head harder. "What's a threesome?"

Silence.

Complete utter silence.

Axel is frozen and horrified. His jaw is unhinged and he stares at me like he'd seen a ghost. Gunner pokes his head between me and the table, curious about the silence that descended. He stares at the pale man, then turns to me questioningly.

"You're with Axel, aren't you." Eric's tone is flat. He knows the answer already.

I grab onto Gunner to steady my shaking self, grinning wider. "Maybe."

"Move your phone between the both of you, but closer to him, there's something I need to say. Thanks." Axel resumes shaking his head furiously as I obey. The hands clasped shake more frantically now.

"Speaker?" I ask politely.

"No."

Eric's next words are loud and surprisingly controlled. Both of us can hear him without needing to lean closer or strain. "I told you to fuck stay away from her," he seethes, resembling a huge ass snake. And I'm sure he would be once he gets back. "And the first thing you do when I'm not around? You suggest that." His friend winces and gulps, Adam's apple bobbing down his throat exaggeratedly. "I'll castrate you, you hear me? I'll chop off your fucking balls and your cock and have it hung in the Pit."

Sounds gory.

I like it.

Axel's eyes are glazed over and he's staring at past me. I look away to quench the urge to laugh.

I thought he was done, but he wasn't. "Then I'll shave off your stupid hair and have them delivered to all those bitches you've fucked, including Tessa." A second of silence. I swear I can push Axel over by just gently blowing. He looks dead, like his soul left his body, leaving behind a shell of a man.

"Anna?"

I bring the phone back to my ear. "Yeah?"

His voice has returned to its previous flat, unimpressed state. Eric's doing the thing he does, where he compartmentalizes everything for later. It's cute he can transition so fast.

"The answer is no."

Eric squints at the rope like it's the bright ass sun. The thick black nylon rope now hangs in the air limply, still rocking from momentum.

My arm hurts. Hawk's landing didn't happen smoothly. His dew claw somehow managed to hook onto my sleeve and his claws dug into my bicep. It's not the worst landing we've had so far, but it was close. Four parallel red streaks are now decorated halfway around my bicep in a C shape. These streaks would've been wounds if Hawk's claws weren't blunt from friction. I almost dropped him upon impact.

Unlike me, the fawn dog is completely fine despite the precarious landing. He had merely grunt-squeak in surprise, the pillow still abusedly clutched between his jaws. Now he's enjoying the reap, shaking the pillow around with a vengeance while trotting with no sense of direction.

The wall he had scaled was high. It's the same wall we used to practice scaling buildings during initiation. The only difference between then and now is the lack of grips on Hawk's side. The surface was smooth for him to run up, using yours truly as a boost. My leg was bent and my chest was tilted back. He ran straight to me, his limbs finding leverage on my thigh and chest to hoist him up to the wall.

He almost didn't reach, his paws starting to lose foothold from traveling vertically as he prepared to lunge. But he managed. Strong jaws clamp down to the corner of the pillow, yanking it out from its loose hold. We were distracted by his success, for we haven't done this since Amity. He wasn't focused on his landing posture, too elated to notice my positioning, and we landed heavily.

Training in Dauntless is much more riskier, due to the concrete ground. It's the reason why I've barely done any jump work with Hawk and Sabre. We've mostly been focused on their scent locating and weapon takedown. Four and I had started real gunfire sounds the other day.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Eric asks beside me. His expression is a cross between puzzled and impressed. I decided to start off small, instead of scaring him like I did with Four.

I shake my head and wring my hand together, growing nervous again. "Remember the first time you brought me to Amity? Right after we exited the truck?" This wasn't planned thoroughly. I'm not sure how to break it to him.

He nods warily. "What about it?"

Hawk returns to me at the pat of my thigh. I grab the pillow and wave him off with two fingers. Gunner and Sabre follow in suit, the both of them were previously sitting on the training ring, waiting for their turn. "Well…" I scratch my neck awkwardly while the dogs slink into darkness. There are little lights on whenever we train, today is no exception. Eric raises an eyebrow in suspicion. His piercings glint under the illumination. "The dogs… they were going to attack you."

He blinks once, not totally surprised. "Like attack attack or pretend attack?" Eric places his arms on his hips as he recalls. "I did suspect they were going to lash out. They are very protective of you. And you seemed quite frightened at that moment. You looked afraid, like I was going to kick you out of Dauntless because Gunner looked like he was going to rip my head off."

I look away in embarrassment. I may have panicked a bit on that day. "Attack attack," I clarify, "I'm-going-to-rip-your-head-off attack."

"Oh." He scans the area, noticing the dogs are no longer visible. His features barely give way to the realization. A fleeting frown is all I get. "Are they going to attack me now?" He's oddly calm. Either he knows that the dogs won't attack or that he thinks he'd be able to hold his ground.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you want them to?" It's hard to predict Eric's reactions. He's never come across such a situation before, nor anything close to this.

He scratches his chin, pondering on the offer. "What are they doing now?" He scans the area slowly, trying to locate them. It doesn't help that their coats blend well into the background.

"Just watching and waiting." It's deadly quiet, the only noise is our conversation and the echoes from being in a large unpadded hall.

"For what?" He's still scanning the area, turning three-sixty.

"Anything, nothing. They are keeping a low profile." John and I used to do this often. We would have long casual conversations with the dogs nowhere to be found, then he'll lash out. The dogs have never failed to deliver, swiftly taking him down in mere seconds.

"How does this work? Do I provoke you or do you just give the command?" His eyes are bright, burning with intensity at the new information.

"Well, I could give the command but usually-" I don't finish my sentence, my voice going slack in horror. Eric's swinging a fist, aimed straight to my face. I duck to the side on instinct, my arm lifts to intercept his forearm, only to find it stopped already. The corner of his mouth lifts at my quick response. Right behind him, I see a flash of silver leaping off the ground. My heart flies to my throat in terror.

Shitty shit.

"Hold!" I choke out. Sabre smashes onto Eric's back, sending him stumbling forward. My hands dart to steady him while my dog bounces off. The wolfdog recovers immediately, back on all fours within milliseconds of landing. "Are you insane!" I shriek, frightened by what could've happened. Sabre was aiming for Eric's shoulder, and he almost succeeded. "You're not wearing any protection!"

"I know." His voice is calm but his expression is unnerved. He did not anticipate my dog to react this quickly, especially when he was completely camouflaged. Sabre is still behind him, his snout twisted to expose his teeth. He isn't moving, standing proudly with a low growl emitting from his throat.

"Break." The growling stops.

It takes us a while to catch our breath.

My head collides into his chest with a muffled thump. The hands that helped steady him still clutch his biceps with more force than necessary. Neither of us needed to say it, for in the silence it's already loud and clear: he could've gotten seriously hurt.

I don't know what I've done if I hadn't stop Sabre in time.

Something nudges my thigh and I turn my head to it. Sabre stares up at me, panting and worried. It's the first time I'm flustered after training. The usual procedure is showers of compliments and treats. He's sitting, waiting on the next order. I stretch a hand to his furry head, assuring that he's done a good job. Sabre's insane – it's what I like about him.

"I'm fine," Eric says softly, more to me than himself. He's fine. It was a close call, but nothing happened. I look up to find he's recovered. His features are soft, apologetic. "Sorry." I nod and step away, my grip finally loosening before slipping away. My heart is still racing, the situation replaying in my head.

Eric regards the dog in veneration, stepping to the side to see if his attention will follow. It does. Sabre eyes him as he moves, only refocusing back on me when Eric stops. "He's fast." Giving the silver hound one last glance, Eric lifts his head and scans for the other two.

I do my best to pull myself together, redirecting my focus to the conversation at hand.

"Hawk's the fastest, but Sabre is very powerful... when he wants to be," I reply. Sabre takes his job to the next level. This says a lot, for all three never deliver anything below everything.

Hawk stands on his right whilst Gunner is to his left. Both are a good distance from us, their forms just visible under the dim lights. Hawk is a little closer than Gunner. All they needed was a few more seconds and they would've been in Sabre's position. The dogs pant loudly, the adrenaline rush noticeable in their dilated pupils and jittery movements. They wait for me expectantly, and I wave them off with two fingers. "Sabre, wait." The other two disappear into the shadows again, their panting immediately quieting. The hybrid remains seated, watching attentively.

"Impressive," Eric comments. I smile and kneel in front of my pup. He wags his tail fiercely when I scratch his chin and kiss his forehead. "Does he hate me now?"

"No. You can pet him if you want." Eric drops to a squat beside me. Without any hesitation, he boldly reaches for the animal who almost took him down, scratching his ruff. "They've been trained to act objectively. As long as you're no longer a threat and I'm fine, they won't attack. They don't normally harbor hostility towards a person." Unless said person has proven time and time again that they're a threat.

"Like a soldier?" he asks, amused. Sabre grins at him, exposing his neck in an odd position when Eric finds a good spot.

I shrug. "Something like that."

"But Gunner hated me during the Amity trip," he points out. "He doesn't like me."

"He's like that, doesn't warm up to many people." Including Zeke, much to his disappointment. "He's naturally aloof; combine with his protectiveness of me, his attitude was normal," I supply.

"I noticed."

"Aren't you and him improving though? I saw you talking to him the other day."

At the words, Eric immediately retracts his hand and stands. "I don't talk to them," he says with all the masculinity in the world. He slaps on a poker face and juts his chin out defiantly.

"What did you talk to him about?" It was an interesting sight to see. It happened a few days back, right before we went for lunch. Eric and the dogs were waiting for me to pick up Hawk; Skylar was extremely busy that day, something about vomit and more vomit.

Gunner had his attention completely focused on what the leader was saying, his head tilting left and right as if to process the words. Sabre was there too, reacting similarly, but it was clear the conversation was between Eric and my velcro boy.

"I don't talk to them," he repeats firmly.

"Maybe you were on your phone or something, I guess." I decide not to push, trying a different tactic. "But you seem to be growing on Gunner. He kicked up a fuss when we went to lunch without you earlier. Kept glancing back to your office and stuff."

The pitch of his voice immediately increases, his façade evaporating to expose his childlike emotions. "He did?" he asks excitedly. I smile.

"Yeah."

He did.

A/N

*Screams and dies of cuteness*

Am back. My exams are starting. And if all goes well, it means weekly updates ;)