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The day he returns to the 141, it’s raining and miserable, bitterly cold winds needling their way through his jacket and sweatshirt to pierce his skin like shards of ice. Roach shivers and adjusts his grip on his cane; he hadn’t wanted to use it for this, hadn’t wanted such a physical sign of how broken he is these days, but between the rain and the cold, he needs the support. His knee is aching, the deep ache of a chronic pain flare brought about by pressure changes and weather and whatever other jargon his doctors have rattled off to him more than once.
Most of the time he listens. Sometimes he just has to tune them out because he’s already heard it so many times that he could quote it verbatim in his sleep. He knows they’re just doing their jobs, but he’s tired of being fussed over and treated like he’s breakable. If a goddamn grenade couldn’t do it at danger-close range, a little bit of rain isn’t going to cripple him further.
It’s still cold as hell though.
“It’s good to see you again, Gary.”
Laswell looks the same as ever — better now, actually. Less stress lines, healthier skin. Her eyes have a sparkle to them that was absent the last time they saw each other. Clearly, she’s been doing something that agrees with her, and it’s good to see. He lets her hug him, gets caught a little off guard by how normal it feels. They’d never interacted much, before his injury, but she’d become one of his most frequent visitors during his recovery. She kept him well-informed of what 141 has been up to — and everyone in it.
Good to see you too, ma’am, he signs, and her smile grows a little wider as they head inside. He notices that she adjusts her pace to match his, wonders if she’s aware of it or if it’s just natural for her, an unconscious act of caring she always tries to pretend she isn’t capable of. Big bad CIA agent that she is, always forced to regulate and compartmentalize, to not get too close. Roach is familiar enough to know that their lives and jobs are always in danger, so of course they want to keep their distance. Too bad for her, the 141 pack has always had a habit of blowing through those walls. From what she’s told him, it’s even worse now than it used to be.
It makes him wonder, curious and a little bit excited, just how much Ghost has changed since he last saw the Shifter.
“Everyone that’s here is likely in the puppy rec room,” Kate explains as she leads him down different hallways than he was expecting. They’re heading away from the main hustle of the base, out toward rooms that he vaguely remembers being used more for storage than anything else. It’s been two years though, who knows what else has changed aside from the faces.
They approach a nondescript door, plain white just like all the others, but Roach can hear muffled voices behind this one. Can hear laughter and a lilting cadence that sounds like a movie or a television show. He adjusts his grip on his cane, tries not to let his nerves show. He’s ready to see Price, and Gaz, and Ghost. But they don’t know he’s coming, and he doesn’t know for certain that they’re even on base right now.
The door swings inward before they reach it, and the head that pops out definitely isn’t a familiar one. Strong jaw, wide blue eyes, dark brown hair shaved down into a mohawk — yeah, he doesn’t recognize this man, but somehow, he likes him already. Maybe it’s that smile, so wide and encompassing and friendly. The twinkle in those blue eyes as the man fully steps into the hallway to meet them.
“Hullo,” he says brightly, and Roach recognizes the brogue immediately. Offers a grin of his own, his face feeling oddly bare and cold without the medical mask he’s taken to wearing in lieu of his standard balaclava. He’d wanted to meet the pack properly, to pay his respects and show that he has nothing to hide. “Yeh must be Roach? Kate told us yeh were comin’ round to say hello.”
Of course she did. He frowns at Kate, who simply smiles and gestures for him to proceed. “Roach, this is Sergeant Soap MacTavish, demolitions and sniper, and self-proclaimed Alpha of the pack puppies.”
“Jus’ Soap’s fine,” the Sergeant says, waving away the rest of it with an easy laugh. “Come on in an’ have a seat; everyone is excited to meet yeh.”
Roach follows him into the room, taking it all in with wide eyes. Posters, blankets, padded flooring — it looks so out of place for a military base, especially one belonging to a task force like 141, but the sense of comfort and security that envelops him as soon as he’s through the door is no joke. This room is a sanctuary, that much is clear. It's a much larger space than he’d expected it to be, with one huge couch and several recliners. A table practically groaning under the weight of different kinds of drinks and boxes of pizza; bags of chips and a stack of multicolored plastic cups. The air is heavy with the warm scent of cheese and sauce and spiced meat.
“We decided ta give yeh a proper pack welcome,” Soap explains, and the pile of blankets in front of the couch erupts suddenly to reveal Gaz. Gaz, who looks better than ever, eyes shining and smile so wide it has to hurt his face. He’s wearing a sweater that’s far too big for him and pajama pants covered in little cartoon dogs. He looks young, and happy, and Roach drops his cane to catch his old friend with a raspy huff of laughter when the other man launches himself at him. Gaz nearly takes them both to the floor, but Soap is there to support them, rumbling in a way Roach knows well, even if he hasn’t heard a Shifter vocalization in far, far too long.
“Welcome back, mate,” Gaz whispers, face tucked into Roach’s throat. He’s squirming, trying to get as close as possible, and Roach hauls him in and hugs him tightly; closes his eyes and basks in the warmth and friendship that he’s missed so much. His knee is pissed, got twisted a little bit from the takedown, but it’s fine, it’s more than worth it.
The door opens and Captain Price walks in, followed by the biggest man that Roach has ever seen. He’s got to be seven feet tall, at least, and he’s built like a brick shithouse. There’s another man beside him wearing a full balaclava and sunglasses; they both stop and look down at him, though he can only see the big guy’s eyes.
“It’s about time, Sergeant,” the Captain rumbles, reaching down and plucking Gaz off of him easily. He gets a look at the back of Gaz’s sweater then, at the Price sprawled across the shoulders in bold font, and he’s smiling behind his mask when Price offers a hand to help him up before handing him his cane. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”
Never, sir, Roach protests. Do the others know BSL too yet?
“You pups know BSL?” The Captain looks at the men behind him, and both of them shake their heads. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you taught soon enough. König, Horangi, this lad is Roach. He was one of us, back in the day; still is, and always will be, even being retired now.”
Gaz leans on him again, eager for contact in a way he never used to be, and Roach is happy to reciprocate. To be welcomed back like he’d never left in the first place, even though he’s clearly missed so much. He feels Soap behind them and startles a bit when the Wolf suddenly rubs his cheek against Rosch’s damp blonde curls. Recognizes the scenting for what it is and relaxes into it, waving to König and Horangi with the hand that isn’t clutching the back of Gaz’s stolen sweater like his friend will disappear if he lets go.
“It is nice to meet you, Roach,” König says. He’s not quite making eye contact, but he sounds friendly enough, and he approaches without hesitation to hug Roach like they’re old friends. The soft material of the man’s sniper hood tickles his temple, and Roach leans into the affection with a quiet sigh.
“Welcome,” Horangi says, knuckles bumping his shoulder in greeting. He accepts the touch with a grin and returns it in kind, which seems to please the other man. He gives a parting nod before making his way toward the table of food, and König is quick to follow, rumbling happily as he goes.
So how many Shifters do we have now? He has to let of Gaz to sign properly, but that’s alright; the other Sergeant clearly has no plans to move any time soon.
“Five on base,” Price replies with a mischievous grin. “Kate here has a habit of finding us problem children.”
“You and your boys have a habit of adopting them before I can clear them for anywhere else,” Kate retorts, and she doesn’t sound angry about it. If anything, she sounds amused and fond.
“There’s also Alejandro, in Las Almas,” Soap chimes in.
“And Farah and Alex in Urzikstan,” Gaz adds. Roach can feel his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline. When he got injured, Ghost was the only Shifter under Price. He was too volatile to risk bringing others in. It never scared Roach, how feral the Dire Wolf was, not really. Not after the first five minutes when he realized and understood. After that, it hadn’t been easy to build a friendship, but it had been so worth it. And now Ghost isn’t a true lone wolf anymore — he has an entire pack of humans and Shifters. Has a bigger support group than he’d ever had before.
Is Ghost away on a mission?
Gaz laughs and shakes his head; pulls Roach with him toward the mouthwatering smell of pizza and grabs a paper plate for each of them. “Nah, he’s in medical with our problem puppy. They’ll be here once they’re done. Spazz demanded he go with so he can hear for himself that the kid is medically cleared for their sparring match.”
Now doesn’t that sound intriguing? Problem puppy? How so?
“Ah, that’s a whole can of worms we aren’t quite ready to open, lad,” Price chuckles. Even Kate laughs softly. “You’ll meet him soon enough, and then you’ll understand.”
Gaz loads his plate up for him while Roach ponders what the Captain has said; follows his friend to the couch and lets Gaz fuss with one of the thicker blankets, tucking it around his legs and tugging his wet jacket off to go and hang it up. Roach knows it’s not because Gaz thinks he’s incapable — the guy has always been a bit of a mother hen. It seems Soap is too, when the Scottish Shifter appears behind him and cups his face to encourage him to tilt his head over the back of the couch and look up.
“Soda, water, tea?” he asks, holding up one, two, three fingers in turn. Adapting to Roach‘s disability without any sign of frustration or discomfort. It’s nice, it’s good, and he holds up two fingers. Signs a slow thank you that makes Soap smile. The Wolf kisses his forehead, which he wasn’t expecting at all, and then he's heading back to the table to get Roach his drink like kissing strangers is something he does every day.
“You’ll get used to it, lad,” Price promises fondly from where he’s made himself comfortable on an oversized, squashy recliner. König has chosen to sit at the Captain's feet, leaning back against his legs, while Horangi is stretched out on a dark blue fleece blanket beside him. “They’re an incredibly tactile bunch,” he adds with a pointed look at König, who rubs his covered face against the man’s knee before sneaking a torn-off bite of pizza up beneath his hood.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Captain,” Gaz teases, and he lets Price hook an arm around his hips and tug him close, almost pulling the man off-balance and startling a laugh from his throat. He ducks his head for a proper kiss, bracing a hand on the recliner above Price’s head to help keep his balance. Roach can’t help but smile widely at the sight they make, because it’s been a long time coming. He’s glad they’ve finally found happiness in each other — they deserve it.
He can’t help but be a shit about it anyway; he’s got two years to make up for, after all. Called it, he signs smugly, and Gaz rolls his eyes at him, cheeks just a little pink. Lecherous old man, he continues mercilessly, and Price points a finger at him in mock warning.
“You watch your tone young man, before I wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Nae,” Soap himself chirps, dropping onto the couch beside Roach and handing him a cup of ice water. “Ah dinnae think yeh wanna taste me like tha’, puppy. Simon wouldnae be too chuffed if yeh tried.” He smirks, eyes twinkling, and Gaz chokes on a strangled laugh.
“You are the worst,” he complains, untangling himself from Price and crossing his arms once he’s in front of Soap. “Move, you brute. That’s my seat.”
“Ah dinnae see yer name on it,” Soap sing-songs, and before Gaz can retaliate, the door swings open and Roach cranes his head to see who’s joining them this time. Feels his heart jump when Ghost — no, Simon — fills the doorway and stares at them all, his gray-blue eyes sweeping the room at large before they come to land on Roach and stay there. He feels the instinctive urge to curl his shoulders and bare his throat, to show the Alpha that he still defers to him, that he still considers Simon his pack despite not seeing him for two years.
“Welcome back, Roach,” the Dire Wolf rumbles, and then his expression shifts to something more fondly exasperated and he steps to the side so the boy that’s apparently been shoving at his back can pitch into the room with a surprised yelp.
“Fuckin’ dickhead!” he snaps, catching himself before he goes sprawling across the puzzle mats. Roach blinks, realizes he’s not looking at a teenager, that the kid is actually an adult. He’s wearing a baggy green t-shirt and sweatpants, looks like he’s just rolled out of bed to go take a high school exam, but no, he’s definitely part of the 141. He’s just… so small.
Hello, Simon, he signs, tilting his head and focusing back on the Shifter. It’s good to see you again. Which is the most cliché fucking thing to say ever, but it’s true. Roach has missed the 141, has missed these men who have been his pack. They were the motivation he clung to with white-knuckled fingers the entire way through his recovery and physical therapy. He’s missed them so goddamn much, and he already feels settled in a way that he hasn’t in months. He feels like he’s come back home at long last, and he’s delighted to learn that the family has grown since he’s been gone.
“Good to see you too, Roach.” Simon prowls across the room, comes to stand behind Roach the way Soap had just a few minutes ago. He understands what’s coming already and tilts his head back for the Dire Wolf to cup his jaw; lets Simon look his full and stares back with soft green eyes and a smile that crinkles the corners of them.
“You stayin’ or leavin’ again?” his Lieutenant asks, head cocked to the side. And really, it’s such a stupid question that Roach can’t help but snort at him, because of course he’s staying. He’s been away for long enough; too long. He wants to come home. The final decision is Simon’s though, and he gets his answer when the Alpha nods and leans down to rub his face against Roach’s hair, to scent him the same way Gaz and Soap have already.
“We’ll catch up properly later,” Simon murmurs, giving his head a light shake before letting him go. “For now, enjoy the food and whatever monstrosity of a movie Gaz decides to pick this time.”
“You shut the fuck up, I have the best taste in movies!” Gaz snaps, acting far more offended than he actually is if the way he’s fighting not to grin is any indication. And then his smile drops and a hint of tension creeps into his expression. “Spazz,” he says, his voice turning light and carefully gentle. “This is Roach. He used to be part of the 141 with Simon and I, a few years ago.”
Roach lifts his head off the back of the couch and offers the boy a smile. He looks even smaller up close, but there’s something ferocious about him, about the stubborn set of his jaw and the way his eyes are narrowed as he looks Roach up and down.
Hello, he signs, and Spazz fixates on his hands immediately, blinking like he’s just seen something peculiar and unusual. Most people can’t communicate using BSL, so that’s not all that surprising, but the intensity in Spazz’s blue eyes suggests a different kind of curiosity.
It’s a surprise when he leans over Roach; he feels Gaz tense beside him, like he’s expecting a confrontation. Can hear a bass rumble he knows instinctively is Simon’s, though the Dire Wolf isn’t trying to get between them and force Spazz back. From the corner of his eye, he can see the surprise on Soap’s face, the way he’s biting his lip. It’s like they’re all expecting something horrible to happen. Is that what Gaz meant when he called Spazz their problem puppy? Is he volatile the way Simon used to be?
Spazz isn’t looking him in the eye, Roach can tell that much as he leans in a little farther. His eyes are too far to the left, closer to his ear or maybe his temple. They inevitably drop to Roach’s neck — to the jagged, ugly scars that are visible above the collar of his hoodie. The boy blinks at them, cocks his head, and then he’s angling to press his nose to Roach’s cheek and snuffle quietly, breathing him in with a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
“Spazz,” Price says, calling his attention, and the boy bares his teeth with a chuff. He backs off though, stalks around the couch and disappears from view. Roach can’t help but turn his head to follow him, too curious for his own good. He watches the boy sniff a slice of pepperoni pizza before shoving it crust-first into his mouth and holding it like a wolf would hold a meat bone. When he realizes they’re all watching him, he hunches his shoulders and growls around his mouthful; turns and heads for the door until König’s soft voice stops him in his tracks.
“Why don’t you stay and watch the movie with us, Wölflein?”
Spazz hesitates, eyes darting between König and Horangi. There’s a look in those eyes, one Roach can’t quite place, and before he can decipher it, the boy shakes his head and leaves the room without a word. There’s nothing to suggest he was ever there to begin with aside from the droplets of grease he’s left behind on the puzzle mats.
After a moment, Soap huffs out a laugh. “That went…”
“Better than we could have ever expected,” Gaz finishes, shaking his head with a bewildered smile. “Congratulations, Roach; you’re the first human he’s ever willingly touched. I’m gonna have to demand that you tell us your secret.”
I didn’t do anything? Roach protests, doing his best to convey it as a question. Is he not actually part of the pack?
“He is and he isn’t,” Price explains, rubbing his beard with a sigh. “Spazz is a… temperamental creature. He’s got his reasons, and we do our best to support him and let him know it’s alright. He has a place with us here, no doubt about that, but he has to decide whether or not he’s ready to take it.”
Is he one of the Shifters, then? Gaz had said Roach is the first human he’s willingly touched.
“He’s not,” Kate chimes in, having been content to sit in one of the other recliners and let the boys all meet while she observed quietly. “He’s human, same as you are. He was raised exclusively by Shifters though, so his wires are a little crossed.”
“It’s no’ that they’re crossed,” Soap interjects. “He has his reasons. If he’s gonna accept Roach tha’ easily, tha’ makes it better for everyone. We won’ have teh worry about any issues.”
“That would be the hope,” Simon agrees. He ruffles Roach’s hair as he walks past; cups Soap’s jaw and squeezes until the Shifter sways into him with a dazed smile and a croon. The couch isn’t big enough for four people, especially not when two of them are bulky with muscle. Simon recognizes that and sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back between Soap’s legs while the Scottish Shifter grins madly and nudges at his thigh with a socked foot. His socks are fuzzy and have pictures of corgis as bread loafs, Roach notices belatedly. How cute.
“So what’re we watching?” Kate asks, crossing one leg over the other and smiling at Roach, motherly and fond. Simon digs the controller out of the pile of blankets beside him and hands it over to Gaz, his forearm a warm, comforting weight on Roach’s uninjured knee through the blanket. His bad one isn’t aching as badly now that he’s warm and out of the rain. It makes it easier for him to sink back into the couch and relax properly while he watches Gaz flip through a few rows of movie titles on the screen before picking the one he wants.
Land Before Time. An absolute classic. Roach hasn’t watched it since he was a child, and he can already feel the nostalgia bubbling up inside of him.
“Good choice, puppy,” Price says, and Gaz squirms happily at the praise, his elbow bumping Roach’s ribs until he leans against his friend and lays his head on Gaz’s shoulder to settle him. He feels warm fingers dig beneath the blanket to squeeze his ankle lightly and grins at Simon, and then at Soap, who grins back widely and licks his cheek before nudging his untouched plate.
“Eat,” he murmurs. “There’s plenty for everyone. Don’ be shy now, aye? It’s a party just fer you; enjoy yourself.”
Roach nods and takes a too-big bite of pizza just to make Soap laugh, to feel the way Gaz’s shoulder muscles shift as he shakes his head at Roach’s antics. Even Kate huffs out a quiet laugh, though they’re all quick to fall silent when the movie begins.
Chewing his mouthful, Roach enjoys the mingling flavors on his tongue, though not as much as he enjoys the blanketing warmth of being surrounded by his pack again. He should never have waited so long, but it’s fine, because he’s here now. And if he has his way, he’ll never be away from them again.