*Warning: Strong Language*

His tired heart was still able to flutter when the headlights flashed across the tailgate of Chris's truck.
“I'm home!”
No response. He breathed the air.
Chris should definitely be home. His scent was still thick.
“Chris?”
Trudging up the stairs, he opened the door to the master suite. He wandered around.
No sign of him.
Dropping his back pack on the side of the bed he'd been sleeping on, he made his way back out. Standing in the upstairs hall, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
No text messages he'd missed.
He frowned as he sent one. A faint buzzing hit his ear. Just to be sure, he sent another.
Buzzing.
Calling his number, he followed the sound. He found his phone laying on the kitchen table next to a few pieces of mail. With a couple blinks it slowly registered how odd that was.
A voice of worry was starting to whisper in the back of his head.
Where was he?
He quickly went through all the rooms. It confirmed he wasn't home.
This wasn't normal.
Heart started racing. Panic rising.
Why would Chris leave the house without his phone?
Why was his truck still here?
Why would he be out so late?
Breathing the air again, he tried to find any trace of a different scent. A foreign one.
Nothing. Only Chris.
He ran back to the kitchen. His trembling fingers could barely pick up Chris's phone.
What if wolves coming after him got his number?
Black mailed him?
Coaxed him out of the house?
Fright when he was stuck at the lock screen. No clues when it lit up. Just his texts and missed call on a generic picture. The time flashed before it requested a pin number.
Phone back on the table.
He began to pace. His brain racing.
He'd have to track him.
But how? He barely knew the basics.
How would he keep on his scent this late at night when everything nocturnal stirred?
“Fuck it.” He huffed.
He bounded up the stairs again. He struggled to get his clothes off. The adrenaline was slamming through his veins. Stomach was flighty. He hopped towards the bedroom door while he pulled his compression shorts on.
Solid door slamming open.
“Danny!?”
The tone of his voice was highly stressed.
His heart beat exploded.
He burst out into the hall and snapped his head. Chris was rapidly taking the stairs. His eyes looked as wild as he felt. Acid flooded the air. He punched him square in the chest when he got to the top of the steps. Chris nearly doubled over as he gripped the railing.
“You fucking asshole!” He yelled.
Chris's face morphed into a confused grimace as he gulped for air. He felt distressed tears at the edge of his eyes.
“You can't just leave the house and not tell me! I thought they got you! You fucking scared the shit outta me!” His yelling was turning into a cracking whimper.
“I'm sorry,” Chris choked out, “I'm sorry...”
Sanity hit him. Horrified at what he'd done, he quickly helped support him as he continued to catch his breath.
“Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That was a gut reaction.” He stuttered through a chattering jaw.
“It's fine,” Chris wheezed, “I deserved that...”
Hugging him, he pressed his forehead to his clavicle. Arms around him didn't immediately drain the anxiety. He clung to him, wishing he could hold him closer.
“I'm sorry, gorgeous. I wanted to do a quick territory round before you got home. It took longer than I thought.” Chris's voice was still breathy.
He slowly nodded his shaky head.
“I forgive you. Just text me or something next time.” He mumbled into his skin.
“I will.”
He felt his beard nuzzling against his temple. Warm hand moving along his back until it settled on his far hip. Fingers from the other tipped his chin. Soft caressing from lips against his finally had the relief sinking in.
He waded into those blue eyes.
“I really am sorry for punching you, I was just scared.” He whispered.
“I know…I could…,” Chris hesitated, “…feel it.”
He blinked.
“Feel what?”
“How scared you were.”
“Really?”
“Yeah…in my chest. It was almost like…a vice?” He replied, his voice unsure.
His brain lit up.
The tugging. In his chest. They both had similar symptoms.
“I don't know how, but I knew it was something to do with you,” He felt his thumb rub his cheek, “It had me scared too. I ran home as fast as I could.”
He looked between his eyes as he chewed on his words.
“I've been having this weird…pull… in my chest. Do you get that too?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you think it's from imprinting?”
“I don't know.” Chris quietly replied.
Long exhale, “I'll ask my Dad about it when I tell him we're imprinted.”
Chris nodded.
Sinking further into him, he pressed his forehead to his and closed his eyes. His breath on his lips flowed like his thoughts.
“I can't believe I thought imprinting was just a bite on the neck.” He pondered out loud.
“I can't believe that I don't ‘apparently know everything.’” Chris replied, his tone sarcastically playful.
That had him laughing as he tried to shove himself out of his hold. Strong arms kept him close. Chris's smiling eyes were twinkling and there was a sly grin on his lips he'd never seen before.
The heavy mood evaporated. Sweet melted away the acid.
“Oh shut up, you…”
A big happy kiss cut him off.