Prompt: Ed Sheeran's "Wake Me Up"

Pairing: Quil/Embry

Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Word count: 1000

Pre-readers: meliz875 and bkhchica

Waking Up

The click and gurgle of the coffee pot shattered the silence of what should have been a lazy Sunday morning. I bit my lips, trying not to dwell on the reason it wasn't. Someday, we hoped to have the luxury of lazy weekend mornings again, but for now…

I wandered over to the door, peering into the family room, letting the scorching heat of the freshly made coffee seep into my hands through the mug emblazoned with our daughter's drawing of her unique family—one of a pair of mugs gifted to us by the pack this past week for our upcoming Gotcha Day.

Curled up together on the couch, my mate and his tiny, toddler imprint, Claire, dozed fitfully. Nights like last were rare, but she still suffered them once in a while, though her dreams were always bad.

I don't know what we would have done if not for Bella. She'd been a godsend when she discovered Claire was suffering from nightmares after the attack. Bella had some experience herself with PTSD. Between Jake and Paul—another sufferer of the same affliction—she had found ways to cope that allowed her more restful nights. Coupled with therapy with a professional on the rez who was in the know about the pack, Bella's condition had improved steadily with time and patience.

The same therapist had been working with Claire, but the trauma was great and she was so young. Being separated from her wolf while the tribes fought over where best to place the orphan had done even more damage.

It had nearly broken her and Quil.

The imprint strained nearly to the breaking point before Billy stepped in to insist Quil go stay with Claire at Sam's. The two of them had grown weak and sick with the stress of Claire's traumatic experience. Many people—many tribe members—didn't understand the nature of Quil's imprint, but he couldn't be concerned with appearances when Claire needed him.

Thankfully, the three of us had the pack.

And they had our backs.

We were lucky to have Emily on our side. She claimed Claire as next of kin through the Makah, giving Quil and I time to complete the necessary foster parent certifications and verify our status as members of a recognized indigenous Pacific Northwestern tribe. Orphaned children of native descent were placed with native families when possible, but native foster families were few and far between. With Emily's sponsorship and my own involvement—despite vociferous protests from several disapproving Makah elders—Claire's placement was buttoned up quickly and officially.

The healing would take time, but it was coming along.

I watched them sleep for several minutes, Claire murmuring to her mommy and daddy, begging for her 'Unca Qwee-oo' in slurred murmurs before Quil stirred, his hand absently patting her back as he instinctively whispered necessary assurances thanks to their shared dream connection.

No other imprints had such a connection. Old Quil surmised that it developed due to Claire's immediate need. Quil was better able to respond to her needs because he was privy to her dreams. It was assumed that when she no longer had the need, the connection would go dormant.

Until then, Quil suffered with her.

Every night.

When one member of the pack suffered, we all did, so it wasn't unusual for me to come home late to find Quil and Claire curled up on the sectional together with another pack member, or even one of the imprints, in the shape-shifter version of a puppy pile.

More often than not, Jake, Bella, and Paul would all camp out until I got home.

Not because misery loves company, but because no one understood like the three of them what our broken little family was suffering.

We loved them all the more for it.

I moved around the long end of the couch and sat on the coffee table, perching on the edge to watch them sleep somewhat peacefully for once for a few more moments before the pack turned up to help kick off our big day.

Our first official Gotcha Day.

The name made me smile.

The therapist had warned us that some people frowned on the concept because of some ownership overtones bullshit that had little bearing on how the pack viewed one of its own. The pack was collective in the way of a family. We wanted to celebrate becoming a family, to show Claire time and again that she was loved by the pack and the two of us and as much a part of our family and pack as anyone else.

She wasn't just an imprint.

She was the first pack pup.

Her dainty little lashes fluttered, inky black feathers brushing against dusky golden cheeks. Her pretty hazel eyes drifted open, watery from her bad dreams, and she frowned, sniffling a little as her lip wobbled, "I miss Mommy. Daddy, too."

Setting my 'World's Greatest' mug aside, I hunkered down to her level and brushed the thick fringe of hair out of her eyes.

She would need another haircut soon.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead and withdrew, "I know you do, angel. You remember where we're going today?"

Her little forehead wrinkled before her eyebrows popped up, her eyes lighting up with pleasure, "Beach Day?"

"That's right," I nodded, smiling and stroking her back above Quil's massive paw, drawing comfort from the heat of his hand on our baby girl's back. "You remember what we did last time?"

Her brow furrowed again and she shrugged, shaking her head 'no'.

"We wrote a letter to Mommy and Daddy in the sand, remember?"

A wide grin split her face, "I 'member now! The waves comed and gobbled up da letters onna sands and took dem to Mommy and Daddy wi' da spirits! We do dat again. Tell Mommy and Daddy love dem."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," I promised, sniffling.

Grabbing my hand, she clutched it against her heart, closing her eyes and muttering, "Love you, Unca Emb-wy."

"Love you, too, angel."

- Written based on a little challenge and a nudge from a friend who suggested I try writing some Quembry m/m with lots of feels and fewer BJs than my usual unpublished slash. Review if you like, folks.