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“Do you have a carer to help you look after the place?” he asked.

Valerie shook her head. “Just the meal delivery boy, but he hasn’t been today. Something about his van breaking down. I was on the phone to him when Cherry escaped.”

Pember gasped. “You haven’t eaten all day?”

Valerie looked taken aback before her expression softened and she patted the back of his hand with her knuckles. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure things’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

Pember shot to his feet. “Beef, do you eat beef? A-and dumplings? And bread?” Valerie nodded, looking confused. “Just wait there, Val. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Pember sprinted out of the house, back down the path and into his kitchen. Wrangling everything together, he appeared back at Val’s kitchen table with the pot of stew and a crusty baguette.

“Do you have butter? If not, I can?—”

His eyes flicked to the back door, that had somehow re-opened, and he realised there was a jolly looking corgi sitting on the kitchen mat. It panted up at Pember with a happy expression that was wholly unique to the breed.

“That’s—”

“Blake!” Valerie called, clutching the countertop as she hobbled to the back door. She toed the corgi under its chin with her slipper-clad foot, making its back end wiggle. “Blake, come down here, will you!”

Pember backed away. “O-oh, I can just leave you with the stew, no big deal. It’s all good, I’ll just…”

Blake appeared at the door, all long lines and messy brown hair. He wiped a cloth over his sweaty face and neck before wringing it through his hands. He was wearing those black jogging bottoms again, the ones that clung to his thighs and rode low on his waist, as well as some sort of band T-shirt.

His gaze immediately shifted to Pember, then to the pot in the middle of the table.

“How is it?” Val said, bending to examine some kind of white device propped under Blake’s arm. “Will I be able to breathe at night?”

Blake tore his eyes away from Pember. “Yes,” he said, stiffly placing the machine on the countertop. “I had to spot weld the board, but it should work now.”

His voice was much softer when he spoke to the old alpha, and he sounded kinder. As Val picked up a surgical face mask that was dangling over the side, Pember realised it was a CPAP machine.

“Thank you, poppet. Oh, this is our new neighbour, by the way.”

They both looked at Pember—Val with gentle anticipation, Blake with a tired resignation.

Pember flushed. “N-nice to meet you. I… er… I’ll just be going now?—”

“Nonsense. Sit down,” Val said, gesturing towards the table. “And you.”

She reached up and squeezed Blake’s shoulders, shoving him towards a seat with a surprising amount of strength. He, however, did not relent as easily as Pember.

“No, thanks, I’ll?—”

“Sit down, Blake. You need a good meal. You’re skin and bone.”

He was most certainly not skin and bone. He was athletic, and long, and his waist was to fucking die for .

Then they were all sitting around the table, forks and spoons clinking against the bowls as they ate the stew. The beef was a little tough because he’d rushed it out of the oven, but the dumplings were fluffy and had absorbed the sauce quite nicely.

Whether or not Blake was enjoying it, he couldn’t tell. His face remained stoic as he ate the meal, only looking down every now again at the corgi at his feet.

“So, what brings you to Bell Lane, sweetie?” Val asked, her false teeth clicking as she chewed the food.

Pember swallowed and looked down at the table. “Oh, well I just felt like it was time to move out. I graduated two years ago and I?—”

“Don’t omegas usually stay with their parents until they find a mate?” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. Blake looked up at that.

He wanted to say ‘society left the nineteen twenties behind, Val,’ but he didn’t get the impression the comment was meant as a dig. “Oh, well I suppose some do, but I… It was time.”

He shivered at the thought of his mum.

“Mammy got tired of you, did she?” Val was grinning, but Pember only swallowed and stared down at his bowl. A long, awkward silence stretched between them, until the breadbasket suddenly appeared under his nose. Blake’s arm was bridging the space between them.

“Bread?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Pember gave a grateful smile, nodding as he took a piece. They looked at one another for the briefest of moments before Blake withdrew his arm and placed the basket back on the table.

“How’s your hand?” Blake said, looking down at the old alpha. “Still giving you trouble?”

Valerie lifted the appendage, grimacing at the unnatural, claw-like shape of it. “It’s getting better now the weather’s warmer.”

“Have you tried a heating pad in the evenings?” Pember said, easing back into the conversation.

Val shook her head. “No, no. I don’t need any of that.”

Blake let out a soft breath. “It’ll help ease the pain in between the injections.”

Val frowned, putting her fork down. “I go for my morning walks, like the doctor told me.”

“Yes, but I keep finding you stranded in the woods.” Blake huffed, also putting down his fork. “I told you I’ll help you shift if it’s what you want. You keep getting stuck in the?—”

“And I told you , I’m fine. I’ll be dead soon anyway.”

Pember’s throat tightened as silence descended over them again, the only sound coming from the corgi’s tail beating against Blake’s chair. Pember stuck his head under the table and stroked its muzzle.

“What’s her name?” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Blake exhaled through his nose. “Him. His name is George.”

Pember grinned and tickled George’s chin, making his back leg vibrate. “Hello, George.”

“I wouldn’t give him too much attention,” Blake said flatly. “He’s a huge flirt.”

Pember’s smile widened as he scratched George more until he was practically sitting in his lap.

“Bailey’s a huge flirt, too. Give her a treat and she’ll go home with anyone.”

Blake huffed and leant across the table. “He pisses when he gets overexcited,” he said, retrieving the corgi from Pember’s lap.

Conversation became easier after that, and all three of them made polite small talk whilst eating the stew.

Blake ran a piece of bread around his bowl, consuming it in one bite, his fangs popped out, grazing his bottom lip, which made Pember feel all kinds of funny.

He distracted himself by collecting up the dishes, and Blake helped Valerie into her armchair.

What he hadn’t expected was for Blake to reappear at his side with a tea-towel in his hand.

“D-don’t worry about it. I can dry up,” Pember said, warmth creeping up his neck.

Blake frowned. “Letting you cook, wash and dry? I’m not that rude.”

The alpha’s arm was warm at his side, a stark contrast to his cold fingers. Pember found himself looking at Blake’s hands as he dried the dishes. They were unexpectedly graceful and… gentle , in their movements.

“Thank you. For the meal,” Blake said, the words so quiet Pember almost didn’t hear them.

He chuckled and looked up. “I don’t think you had much choice in the matter.” When the alpha didn’t answer, he turned back to the dishes. “I really am sorry about running into you, by the way. I genuinely thought you needed help.”

Blake frowned, placing a dry bowl on the countertop. “Does that happen often?”

“What?”

“You. Randomly coming across people throwing themselves off cliffs.”

Pember grimaced, blinking several times as images of his sister flashed through his mind. Mangled. Twisted. He played it off as water splashing into his eye, but Blake didn’t look convinced. When he didn’t answer, the alpha picked up another bowl from the drying rack.

“You’ll need some better footwear. If you insist on walking instead of rugby.” Blake’s mouth twitched into a subtle smirk, and he nudged Pember’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m built for rugby,” Pember murmured.

Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. I knew some petite wingers when I played at college. What are you, five seven, five eight?”

Pember nodded. “Five seven and a half.”

“That half could make all the difference.”

He said it so stoically, Pember couldn’t tell if he was joking, but he laughed anyway. Sucking his teeth, he said, “So am I forgiven, or is it going to be awkward every time we put our bins out?”

Blake actually chuckled at that—a deep, rumbling sound that made Pember shiver.

“I won’t make it awkward so long as you keep Wallace in check. He still hasn’t sent me the report.”

Pember sniffed. “He’s my supervisor, and I’ve only worked there a week. I’m not sure what you expect me to do. And besides, he warned me about police officers like you.”

Blake raised a brow. “Oh?”

Pember clapped a hand over his mouth. “Forget I said that.”

“I don’t think I can. Go on.”

“Just… something about bulls and china shops.” Pember flushed and thought he probably shouldn’t be causing cross-department dramas, so decided to change the subject.

Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Val sitting in the chair.

“I’m worried about her,” he said, holding his hands under the tap to wash off the soap suds.

“Her meals, the state of her house… you finding her in the woods. It’s not good. Not good at all.”

Blake nodded. “I know. I’ve tried sorting out a few things, but she’s incredibly house proud. I moved in a year ago and she’s only just starting to trust me. It might be different for you, because you’re?—”

“An omega?” Pember cut him off.

Blake dropped his gaze and held out the dishcloth so Pember could dry his hands. “I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. You just… She seems to like you. She can be a miserable old hag, she even says so herself.”

Pember pressed his lips together and raised a brow. “Maybe you and her are more alike than you think.”

Blake hummed, then grinned and touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “Touché. See you tomorrow.”