Beckett sat on the floor of the airbnb's small living room, lets stretched out in front of him, a melting glass of whiskey in his hand. The ice clinked softly as he tilted the glass, watching the amber liquid swirl, not really seeing it. His mind was too full. Too much had happened in too short a time and no matter how much he tried to push forward, the weight of it all clung to him like smoke.

The Den. The fire. The investigation. The constant fucking presence of Gabriel. 

Beckett heavily sighed, knocking back a sip of whiskey. 

Gabriel.

His fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He wasn't ready to think about that. Wasn't ready to entertain the idea of feelings, of anything deeper than the frustration the alpha made him feel on a daily basis. But ignoring it wasn't working either, because something about Gabriel had lodged itself in Beckett's brain like a splinter. 

He was the first person Beckett had ever met who had managed to push past the walls he'd spent years building. And he hated that. He hated that Gabriel had made an impression when no one else ever had. Hated that he noticed the way Gabriel watched him; really watched, like he saw past the sharp edges and bitter remarks.

He hated that he remembered Gabriel's hands on him; not just in fights, not just in frustration. But steady, solid, holding him up when he didn't have the strength to stand alone. 

Beckett exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the thoughts. Maybe hate wasn't the right word, it was certainly the easiest. It didn't matter. There was too much happening for him to even think about something as ridiculous as feelings. His club was gone, his enemies were still out there; he didn't have time for distractions. And Gabriel? 

Gabriel was just a stubborn bastard who didn't know when to let things go. That was all. Right? 

Downing the rest of his drink, Beckett let his head flop back onto the couch. Well, he figured it took a stubborn bastard to know one. 

----

Jonas flopped onto the couch, jolting his sleeping brother awake as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. 

"So," he started, stretching lazily, "Are we gonna talk about it?" 

He didn't have to specify what needed talking about, they both knew. 

Beckett just groaned and rubbed at his eyes, the glass he'd been holding was tipped over on the floor beside him. Thankfully empty. "No." he grumbled, still a little drunk and very groggy. 

Jonas smirked, "Oh, I think yes." 

"Jonas, I swear to god..." 

"Admit it," Jonas leaned forward and ruffled his disgruntled brother's hair, "He got to you." 

Beckett jerked away, swatting at Jonas' hand, "Drop it." 

"Touched a nerve, did I?" 

Giving up and letting his twin mess with his hair, Beckett pulled his knees up and hugged them, burying his face into them, "I'm not doing this with you right now..." 

Jonas raised an eyebrow, "Fine, then let's talk about something else." 

Perhaps it was the liquor still in his system, but for a microsecond Beckett thought his dearest brother was being serious. 

"Like how you've been brooding about him for the past hour." 

"For fuck's sake Jonas," Beckett groaned, "Why are you like this?" 

Sighing, Jonas rubbed his brother's back just between the shoulders, "Because, brother dearest, you need someone to be." 

Beckett sighed, letting the weight of his exhaustion settle. Jonas might be obnoxious, but Beckett couldn't deny that having him here; his brother, his twin, the one person who had always been there; was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind entirely. 

"You could just admit that I'm a great brother." Jonas gently teased. 

"I'd rather die..." 

Jonas cacled, "Love you too, asshole." 

For the first time in days, Beckett let himself relax. Just for a moment.

----

Jonas had known Beckett his entire life. Obviously. But really knowing someone; understanding how they thought, how they reacted, how they felt even when they refused to say it out loud; that was a skill. One that Jonas had perfected when it came to his brother. And right now? Beckett was spiraling. 

He didn't show it outright; he was too controlled for that, but Jonas could see it. The way Beckett kept rubbing the back of his neck, the way his tail twitched in irritation, the way his jaw stayed just a little too tight. 

Gabriel had gotten to him. 

Jonas stretched, making himself comfortable on the couch, watching Beckett, "So..." 

"No." Beckett didn't even look at him. 

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" Jonas huffed.

"If it's about Gabriel, I don't care." 

Jonas hummed, tilting his head, "See, the thing is, I think you do."

Silence stretched between them, comfortable but weighted. Jonas glanced toward the door, knowing Gabriel was still outside, likely pacing and seething over what had happened hours ago. That man was ridiculous. 

Jonas had been around plenty of alphas; had seen them fight, posture, get possessive, get obsessive, but Gabriel? Gabriel was different. Despite all the bickering, all the sharp edges, all the pride, Jonas could see it clearly: Gabriel cared about Beckett in a way that no one else ever had. 

And as obnoxious as his brother could be, Jonas had to admit; Gabriel was probably the best person to ever step into Beckett's life. But Beckett wasn't ready to hear that. Not yet. 

So Jonas sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up, "Fine, fine. No deep discussions. No soul-searching. I"ll let you sit in your denial a little longer." 

Beckett scowled, "It's not denial if there's nothing to deny." 

"Right? And I'm a nun," Jonas mocked, "Bro, you're a fuckin' river in Egypt...." 

His brother goaned, "Leave..."

"As in, you're in da Nile....." Jonas persisted, "get it...." he was grinning like an idiot, absolutely stricken by his own joke. 

"Oh my God! Jonas so help me!" 

Cackling, Jonas stood quickly, "Alright, grumpy. But maybe stop fighting the one person who's actually on your side?" 

Beckett went still, Jonas took that moment to leave. Not waiting for any kind of response. He just patted his brother's shoulder and headed toward the door, leaving Beckett alone with that little ear worm. 

----

The house was quiet, too quiet. Beckett had spent so much time blocking out the noise at The Den; music pulsing, patrons shouting over each other, glasses clinking against polished wood; but now, in the suffocating silence of this damn place, he missed it. He missed the feeling of his own space. Now, all he had was this rented house, borrowed time, and a storm of thoughts he couldn't outrun. 

He paced the small living area, hands shoved into his pockets, tail flicking sharply behind him. He was restless, muscles still coiled from the argument with Gabriel, from Jonas' infuriating commentary, from the way they both looked at him -- like they knew something he didn't. 

Or worse. Like they knew something he refused to acknowledge. 

Beckett exhaled sharply and dropped onto the couch, tilting his head back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling. 

'Maybe stop fighting the one person who's actually on your side.' 

Jonas' words clung to him, digging under his skin like barts. 

The one person who's actually on your side. That wasn't true. It wasn't. Beckett had people; employees, contacts. He had built The Den himself, formed relationships, made connections; he wasn't some lone survivor scraping by in a world that wanted to break him. 

But as much as he tried to convince himself of that, the ugly truth remained: Before Gabriel, no one had ever really stuck around. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling against his knees. Their first meeting felt like a lifetime ago. He could still remember the irritation that curled in his chest when one of his bouncers had told him he "knew a guy" who could help with distribution. Beckett had expected some sleazy alpha with too much ego and not enough brains. Someone he'd have to fight tooth and nail to get a decent deal from. 

And in some ways? He'd been right. Gabriel was an arrogant bastard. Cocky, overconfident, always smirking like he knew something Beckett didn't. But he'd been reliable. Annoyingly so. And more than that, he'd been there. When things started getting rough, Gabriel hadn't walked away. 

Not when The Den first got hit with threats. Not when Beckett got caught up in a fight. Not even after the fire, when most people would have cut their losses and moved on. Gabriel stayed. 

Beckett's eyes flickered towards the door. He could still feel Gabriel's presence, even with a wall between them. Waiting. Watching. Not leaving. Beckett hated that it made something in his chest tighten. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the things that mattered. 

The Den, the lawsuit, taking back what was his. Not whatever complicated mess of emotions Gabriel had dragged into his life. Not the way Gabriel had looked at him early; steady, unshaken, like Beckett could shove him all he wanted and it wouldn't make a damn difference. Not the way it felt to know, with absolute certainty, that Gabriel wasn't going anywhere. 

Beckett swallowed hard and closed his eyes, "Fucking alpha..." he muttered, running a hand down his face. But even as he said it, the words lacked their usual bite, and that scared him more than anything else.