by Peyton Bogue
“Okay,” Sage replies when they break apart, a flush beginning to color his cheeks as he gently pulls away from Rhys’s embrace. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need help with anything?”
Rhys shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Nope. I’ve got it.”
“Alright,” Sage replies, nodding again. “I’m going to go take a quick shower. You’re right,” he admits sheepishly. “I feel like I’m about ready to pass out.”
Rhys nods at him, his expression turning slightly stoic.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get out. It’ll be good, I promise.”
“I don’t doubt it, Ree,” Sage replies, smiling as he moves to pull away from Rhys, but Rhys stops him quickly, reaching out to gently grasp his hand.
“I—um. . .” he trails off, hesitant as he frowns.
“What, baby?” Sage asks him softly, moving to entwine their fingers together.
Rhys isn’t the best at expressing how he feels sometimes, even though they’re both very open and communicative with each other. It sometimes takes him longer to explain what he’s feeling—for him to sort through the emotions in his head—but Sage just always patiently waits for him to gather his thoughts and find his words. He’ll never push it when Rhys is trying as hard as he is to be open and vulnerable in ways he sometimes isn’t.
Rhys hesitates again before he speaks, his expression slightly withdrawn. “I want to apologize to you.”
Sage stares back at him, momentarily confused as he rubs over the skin of Rhys’s wrist with his thumb. “For what?” he asks.
Rhys shrugs lightly, his stoic expression deepening. “I know I’ve been. . .” he pauses, searching for the words. “I haven’t been in control of myself, and I’ve been a real asshole lately. Whatever’s going on with me isn’t an excuse for me to treat you like I did last night. It’s not okay for me to get upset with you when you’re just doing your job. It’s not okay for me to lash out at you. I haven’t been. . .” Another pause. “Supportive of you and your detective work lately and I’m sorry for that. I’ll always support you in everything that you do. We just. . .haven’t spent a lot of time together lately and I think it just made me really upset. And I’m still really sorry about our fight last night.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Rhys,” Sage tells him, shaking his head. “I know you’ve been on edge lately, and I know that things have been a little chaotic. I appreciate you apologizing to me, but you really don’t need to, baby. I know you don’t like how demanding my job can be sometimes. I don’t fault you for that.” Rhys smiles a closed-lipped smile down at him softly. “Don’t be sorry about anything. I’ve missed you, too, you know. I don’t like not being able to spend time with you, either.”
Rhys’s face heats in embarrassment, caught out. He chuckles sheepishly at Sage’s words, giving him a slightly bashful smile. Sage grins widely at him, tilting his head up and bringing their lips together.
“I love you, grumpy,” he says tenderly as he pulls back, “and I hate that we haven’t been able to spend time together. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m too busy for you.”
“I don’t,” Rhys says, shaking his head. “My wolf just. . .”
“I know,” Sage replies softly.
“I love you, too,” Rhys tells him, kissing the side of Sage’s head. “Now go take your shower, you sap.”
Sage laughs at him as he pulls away, giving Rhys a small grin as he disappears behind the kitchen door.
Dinner that night is still amazing. The noodles are a little too soft, the homemade garlic bread is cold, and the meat might be a touch overcooked, but it’s still one of the best meals Sage has ever had.
They talk quietly as they eat, and before too long, they’re both finished in record time.
Sage has just finished laying his and Rhys's plates into the sink and turned the faucet on to get the water running on the other side of the basin when Rhys’s arms loop around his wasit from behind, and he rests his chin on top of Sage’s clothed shoulder, muttering quietly, “Can this wait until tomorrow? We need to get you to bed.”
Sage shakes his head. “If I don’t do them now, I’ll have to wait to do them until tomorrow night.”
Rhys huffs behind him, tightening his grip around Sage’s waist. “I can wash the dishes in the morning before I leave. I promise they’ll be done before you get home.”
Sage turns around, raising an eyebrow, but Rhys just looks back at him with a stern look, clearly not willing to budge in his argument.
Sage rolls his eyes, sighing, but shuts the water off and turns to mockingly warn him, “As long as you promise.”
“I promise,” Rhys says, smiling as he moves to take Sage’s hand and pull him gently from the kitchen. Sage follows after him, chuckling, but allows himself to be manhandled through their apartment and into their bedroom.
Once they’re both settled into bed, and Rhys’s arms have moved around Sage and he’s cuddling into him just like Sage had asked, Sage can’t help the way his mind drifts back to the Aldridge case again, and more specifically, the agents who are working on it. Grayson’s face flashes in his head once more, and he sighs.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Rhys asks behind him, running his nose over the back of Sage’s neck.
Sage briefly wonders if he should shrug off Rhys’s concern. He doesn’t really want to think much more about anything related to Phil Grayson tonight, and he doesn’t really want to talk about it. His time spent in Afghanistan is irrelevant to him now. It doesn’t matter anymore. But he knows that he should probably tell Rhys. He doesn’t like to keep anything from Rhys, no matter how trivial it may seem, and he knows that Rhys cares about him. He’s not going to make Sage talk about anything that Sage doesn’t want to talk about.
Sage turns around in Rhys’s arms and sighs again. Rhys settles his left arm more tightly around Sage’s waist and brings his right hand up to gently run his thumb over Sage’s cheekbone. He doesn’t say anything as he waits for Sage to speak, just gazes into Sage’s eyes with a small frown.
“Do you remember that case we were talking about earlier? The one I just got on?”
Rhys hums, nodding.
Sage waits for a beat, debating once more, before he says quietly, “One of the agents on the case is Phil Grayson.”
Rhys looks stumped for a second, clearly trying to put a face to the name, and Sage can practically see the cogs turning in his head when he works it out. After a split second, his eyes turn sharp, and he bites out, “The guy from the Department of Defense? That Phil Grayson?” Sage nods, but Rhys continues, “The guy who almost left you in the desert to save his own ass—”
“Rhys,” Sage says softly, moving to place a comforting hand on his cheek to get him to stop talking. Rhys doesn’t need to be getting worked up over something as irrelevant as this, especially when he hasn’t been completely in control of himself lately. He only knows so much about Sage’s time in Afghanistan, but he knows pretty much all of the bad parts because Sage has felt comfortable enough over the years they’ve been together to tell him. Rhys knows how much Sage dislikes talking about his old war days, but Sage knows that Rhys can’t stop himself from feeling angry at what Sage has just told him.
Rhys exhales sharply out of his nostrils, shaking his head to dispel the anger that had started to rise within him. “Are you okay with that? I mean, the guy really did screw you over, Sage.”
Sage sighs heavily, rubbing his thumb along Rhys’s jawline. “I know. He’s actually a pretty polite and nice guy, and he works for the FBI now. He just kind of kicked up some old memories for me.”
Rhys shuffles closer, tightening his grip around Sage and nods. He waits again for Sage to continue, but Sage doesn’t speak again for a few minutes.
“He even addressed me as Captain today,” Sage admits, sighing again. “I haven’t been addressed as that in years, Ree.”
A low growl sounds in Rhys’s throat, and Sage strokes his cheek
bone again, trying to soothe him. Rhys is clearly as dissatisfied with this arrangement as Sage is, and he doesn’t like that it’s making Sage upset.
“Does Kai know?” Rhys asks a couple of silent beats later.
Sage shakes his head. “No. Grayson probably isn’t going to be around for long, even if this case does end up going longer than normal. There’s no use in dragging Kai into anything.”
Rhys makes a noise of disapproval, frowning as he says tentatively, “He’s your best friend, Sage. He cares about you.”
Sage yawns, nodding. “I know, Ree, but this all isn’t really that big of a deal. Grayson isn’t a bad person, and he won’t be around for longer than he needs to be for this case.”
“Okay,” Rhys agrees, shifting so Sage can lay his head on his chest. Sage can tell that Rhys wants to say more, but he also knows that Rhys can see how tired he is, and this conversation can wait until Sage has had some proper sleep.
“Don’t worry about it, Rhys. Everything’s going to be fine,” Sage says, moving his head to kiss the center of Rhys’s sternum. “I love you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, baby,” Rhys echoes, kissing the top of Sage’s head and settling in. “I love you, too.”
Sage smiles, nuzzling his head further into Rhys’s chest.
He’s asleep moments later, drifting to the feel of Rhys’s warm hands softly trailing over his back.
What feels like only minutes later, however, Sage is startling awake, his heart racing.
He looks to the source of what’s woken him up blearily, blinking rapidly to get his eyes to adjust in the darkness. Rhys is sitting up on his side of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees while his head rests in his hands. He’s panting heavily into the silent air of their bedroom, and his entire body is shaking with the force of his breaths.
“Rhys?” Sage asks sleepily, reaching out his hand to comfortingly rub at Rhys’s right shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Rhys exhales loudly, still breathing heavily. He runs his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t look back over at Sage when he answers, “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
Sage watches him as his eyes quickly run over Rhys’s body, taking in Rhys’s hunched shoulders and stiff body language. He’s clearly had a nightmare, and Sage’s brow furrows in concern when Rhys continues to inhale and exhale sharply, rubbing his hands over his face again.
“Rhys—” Sage starts, moving to sit up completely to try to catch Rhys’s gaze.
Rhys stands up abruptly as he runs a hand through his hair jerkily and turns his head side to side, as if he’s trying to shake himself into breathing normally. His back is to Sage, and Sage can see the way the long muscles of his backside are bunched up uncomfortably tight beneath his pale skin, tense and troubled. Rhys looks only a few short breaths away from fully hyperventilating.
Sage sits up fully on the bed, his eyes carefully watching Rhys as he tries to assess whether or not Rhys is slipping into a panic attack. Rhys takes another shuddering breath and exhales sharply.
“I’m okay,” he repeats, tilting his head to the side to address his words to Sage but still doesn’t look at him. “I’m just going to go get a glass of water. Go back to sleep.” He turns and heads towards their bedroom door, opening it quickly and disappearing through it just as fast as he closes the door a tad harshly behind himself.
Sage watches him go sullenly, staring remorsefully at the closed door as his heart beats loudly in the empty silence of their bedroom. He falls back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan as he runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply, wondering how he missed the signs that Rhys was going to have a bad night.
Rhys's nightmares don't occur often. In the time that Sage has known him, Rhys has only ever had a handful of nightmares like these, where they shock him straight down to his core, paralyzing him in fear, and then he’s suddenly sixteen years old again, watching as his entire family is slaughtered right in front of him.
His nightmares worsen in the days leading up to the anniversary of his family’s deaths or the full moon, where Rhys’s adrenaline is high and he’s more emotional and restless. Their anniversary isn’t for at least six more months, but the full moon is only a week and a half away, and Sage doesn’t know where he missed the signs.
Sage can tell almost immediately when Rhys is going to have a bad night. He gets more defensive and even more broody than he normally is. He’s somewhat harsh and dissonant, snapping at Sage and apologizing immediately afterwards as he makes distressed noises in the back of his throat that he tries to hide with his usual growls, only they sound hollow and standoffish. There’s always a pinched look on his face, as if he’s uncomfortable and volatile in his own skin but can’t make himself relax.
He wasn’t like that at all tonight, Sage’s mind supplies for him, but the thought just makes him feel even more unsettled.
When Sage knows that Rhys is on the verge of having a bad night, he gets a lot more affectionate and encourages Rhys to do the things that calm his wolf, like laying a possessive hand on the back of Sage’s neck, or letting Rhys sprawl on top of him to spread his scent over Sage’s entire body because it relaxes his wolf when Sage smells like him, even though he’s heavy and the bulk of him weighs Sage down and gets him clamming up quickly because of how hot Rhys’s body heat is.
It’s not enough to ward Rhys of an oncoming nightmare, but it’s usually enough to get him to be a little calmer when he’s suddenly jerking awake, blinking rapidly into the darkness of their bedroom and panting as Sage rubs soothingly at his back.
Sage hates it when these nightmares happen. He hates that he isn’t able to take Rhys’s pain away, that he can’t somehow remove all of that torment and anguish from Rhys so that Rhys never hurts from those horrible memories again. He hates that Rhys witnessed something as traumatic as he did and had to cope with the sudden murder of his entire family completely by himself. It kills Sage that he’s not able to provide Rhys with more comfort than trying to get him to work through the nightmare so he can try to get back to sleep, even though Rhys typically just ends up staring blankly out of the living room windows well into the early morning sun while Sage stays up with him, whispering soothing and comforting words into his ear and rubbing his back.
Another sigh heaves itself past Sage’s lips.
He always comforts Rhys when these nightmares happen, however irregular they may be. Sage always gives Rhys a few minutes to himself so that he can calm himself down, to make himself realize that he’s safe and protected and awake. Sage knows better than anyone how distressing it can be to wake up from a nightmare and panic when someone immediately tries to provide comfort. It can sometimes do more harm than good if he tries to touch Rhys before Rhys is ready for that touch.
After a couple of minutes have passed, however, Sage can’t quell his worry anymore. He’s up and out of the bed a moment later, wrapping his arms around himself to try to warm his cold and tumultuous insides.
Rhys is facing the sink when Sage enters the kitchen, his hands gripping the underside of the counter as his head lolls forward. There’s tension in his shoulders, and Sage can tell from the way he’s standing that Rhys is holding himself against the counter with rigidity and agitation, the muscles of his back straining against his pale skin. There’s a glass of water next to his left hand, and Sage can see that there is another broken glass off to the other side of the sink.
He walks up to Rhys slowly, giving him plenty of time to tell Sage to stop, before he wraps his arms around the warmth of Rhys’s constant overheated skin, leaning his head down to rest against the top of Rhys’s spine as Rhys tenses further at his touch.
Rhys lets out a shaky breath a second later, relaxing minutely back into Sage’s arms. His entire body is trembling.
Rhys normally wants Sage to touch him after he’s had a nightmare like this, needing the touch to remind himself that he’s awake, to steady him, but there’s also been times where he’s flinched
away from Sage’s hands, and it breaks Sage’s heart in two every time, regardless of whether Rhys wants to be pulled in close or be left alone.
It’s silent for a while, the buzzing of the refrigerator and Rhys’s shaky inhales and exhales the only sounds in the empty space. Sage can feel Rhys’s pulse race from where he's pressed against Rhys’s back. Sage just tightens his arms around Rhys’s waist, waiting, trying to soothe Rhys’s erratic heart in any way that he can.
“I can’t breathe,” Rhys says into the silence shakily after a few more minutes pass, his breaths uneven and scattered as he tries and fails to inhale deeply. He’s hyperventilating, Sage realizes. Sage can’t tell from where Rhys’s face is tilted away from him, but he knows that Rhys’s eyes are probably wild and wide-eyed. His skin is clammy and there’s sweat breaking out across the back of his neck. He’s definitely having a panic attack.
Sage removes his arms immediately, taking a small step away from Rhys.
He moves his hands to Rhys’s back, gently trying to turn him around. Rhys goes with him, turning around with jerky movements. Sage’s heart drops at the look on his face, so haunted and scared and panicked. He immediately starts pulling Rhys towards the island, pushing him down onto one of the stools.
“You’re okay, Rhys,” Sage tells him, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. He pushes at Rhys’s back, and Rhys leans forward, trying to take a deep breath. Sage moves Rhys’s hair out of his face and rubs his other hand over Rhys’s back in slow circles. Rhys hangs his head in between his knees, balling his hands into fists behind his calves.
“You’re safe, sweetheart,” Sage continues, his voice soft and gentle. “Can you take a deep breath for me? I know you can do it, Ree.”
Rhys inhales sharply, but he releases the air in his lungs slowly, and Sage runs his fingers over Rhys’s shoulder blades encouragingly. “There you go, baby. You’re okay. Take another breath for me. You’re alright.”
Rhys continues to take deep breaths, and each one becomes more and more level as he tries to purposefully slow his breathing. Sage would give anything to see his face, to hug him, but Rhys needs this right now. He needs Sage to help him through this.