Cheap Thrills

Jett had been expecting it, knew Boyd had to pull out for him to switch their position. But that didn't stop him from letting out a desperate sounding whine at the suddenly empty feeling. He needed Boyd back inside of him, preferably now.
"Thank god." He gives a wicked grin when he finally regains his composure, eager to bring Boyd to the edge on his own terms. "Lay down." Jett commands but doesn't give much time for Boyd to obey before he takes matters into his own hands, gently nudging the boy back onto the mattress. He wastes no time, guiding Boyd so he's lying flat on his back. He pauses then, wetting his lips as he straddles his lover, taking a moment to merely appreciate the sight of Boyd spread out and waiting for him. He's not trying to give the boy another heart attack but he's not sure he can hold back anymore. "I've thought about doing this since the first time I saw you, you know that?" He smirks almost shyly as he readies himself, bracing his hands against Boyd's chiseled abdomen and positioning himself. Even though he's aching for release, he can't help but tease a little, sliding Boyd's erection over his entrance several times before beginning to lower himself onto it. He makes sure to take his time, moving painfully slow. It seems like hours have passed before he's finally full again, his cheeks colored scarlet and low moans passing his lips as he's sitting flush against his lover's groin.

Boyd doesn't lay, it's more like he falls back onto the mattress, muscles suddenly sapped of their strength. He didn't think it possible for anyone to be more attractive than Jett had been laying bare beneath him, but here he was, raising the bar yet again as he straddles Boys hips.  His lips are moving, creating words that cause Boyd's back to arch, an attempt to force his hip up, to make contact with that teasing heat.  Jett might very well be the death of him.  The boys hands find his chest, bracing as he finally positions himself. Boyd doesn't recognize the sound that leaves him, desperate and frustrated when Jett decides to tease.  His hips buck, cock nudging up against Jett's entrance. His eyes are watering by the time Jett finally relents.  The beta lowers himself slow.  Boyd can feel every inch being swallowed down, fingernails breaking the skin of his palms as he forces himself to stay still even despite his straining muscles, hips aching to thrust upward and stop this torture.  His chest hurts, acute and throbbing.  Boyd ignores it. He will die for this if he has to.  It can't be over yet.  
Jett takes another inch, and Boyd would have gasped had he the strength. He might not even be breathing anymore with how his chest throbs. The boy is paralyzed, unable to do anything but feel how Jett's walls constrict, pulling him deeper, causing  his heart to stutter in wild and erratic beats. It hurts, somehow in a good way.  Tears are gathering at the corner of whisky warm eyes.  Boyd want's to blink them away but he can't focus.  He just feels.  The tears well, slowly making streaks across lust burnt skin.  By the time Jett is finally sitting flush against him, Boyd is concerned he might black out from the sheer pleasure of it.  How could anyone do this casually?  This, what he was experiencing here with Jett is nothing short of a miracle.
"Ah. Ah. Ah." Boyd whines with every breath, hands fumbling in the air. He wants to hold onto Jett, can't let go of the sheets long enough to reach for him.

"Relax, baby." Jett coos softly as he reaches out to caress the boy's cheeks, wiping away stray tears as they fall. He has never felt this powerful before. He enjoyed it more than words could explain, watching Boyd writhing and whining underneath of him. But also, he was truly worried the boy might have a stroke if he didn't calm down soon. "I want to move but you have to promise me you're gonna breathe for me." Jett's voice is gentler than usual as he trails his hand down the center of his lover's chest. He himself has a difficult time staying still with Boyd so deep inside of him but he knows he has to wait, has to make sure Boyd will not spontaneously combust when he finally climaxes. He rocks his hips slowly to test the waters, letting out a needy whine that he despised himself for when Boyd's erection nestled perfectly against his prostate. "I know you feel really good, I do too. But I need you to try to calm down so I don't have to worry about you passing out or anything. Try to calm down for me so I can give us both what we want, okay?"

It seemed impossible to calm down, force himself to breathe. He might have suffocated if not for Jett's voice filling the room. The beta wants him to relax, tells him to take a breath. Boyd complies as though Jett has issued a command, his chest finally heaving beneath the boys hand. His first breath of air is nothing more than a sharp inhale, feels as if he's somehow managed to pierce a lung. Boyd keeps breathing, tries to focus on Jett's face despite his swimming vision. He loses his breath if he thinks too much about the walls consuming him, the heat swallowing him down.
"W-Wont pass out.....Promise." The words are nothing more than a rush of air. Hands lift, fumble but don't fall. Fingers find Jett's hips, gripping desperately at sweat slicked skin, knowing if his hand slips he might not have the strength to bring them back up. It's a miracle Boyd doesn't come as Jett rocks against him, palms sliding achingly up the beta's slender abdomen. He sees stars, and then darkness. Jett makes a noise, and Boyd almost swallows his tongue. He wont last much longer, wants to tell Jett but can't manage the strength to form words. He tries once, but all that comes out is a dry sob, fingers flexing almost miserably against Jett's skin. It takes every ounce of power Boyd can muster to wiggle his hips, bucking up into Jett in the hopes that would be enough to make him understand. He has to move. Boyd might die if he doesnt move.

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise." Jett murmurs quietly, before his hands find Boyd's pecs again, bracing himself against tanned skin as he finally began to move. He doesn't have the restraint to hold back anymore. Boyd is surely going to cum any minute and Jett intends on enjoying this as much as he can before it's over. He begins to move slowly at first, back arching as he lifts up until only the head of Boyd's erection is penetrating him before sinking back down to the base. Gradually, his pace increases and he begins to bounce quicker and quicker, rocking his hips forward occasionally to guide Boyd where he wants him.
"Oh god, baby. I'm gonna cum." Jett whines, tipping his head back as he begins slamming himself down harder, toes curling when his prostate is stimulated. Even he knows he must look gorgeous like this, muscles rippling underneath of porcelain skin glistening with sweat. He likes to know that Boyd will give him that look, like he's some sort of goddess. He just hopes the boy doesn't forget how to breathe again because of it.
He holds back as long as he can manage, bouncing until his entire lower half aches and he can't stand it any longer. His walls clench tight around Boyd's member as he reaches his climax, riding out his orgasm and milking his lover for all he's worth.
"Boyd!" He cries a soft mantra of his boyfriend's name, stars flashing in front of his vision as his release spurts out across Boyd's stomach.

Boyd tries to focus on breathing, inhaling sharply each time Jett moves so much as an inch. The boy rises slowly, back arching so beautifully Boyd knows without a doubt it's the most majestic thing he will ever see. It's a struggle to keep his mind about him, torn between the pleasure and the emotion of having this with Jett, witnessing the boy riding him, calling his name.
Jesus, it's a miracle he hasn't had a stroke.
Jett increases the pace, moves expertly to make up for Boyd inexperience. He wishes he could do more than brace himself against the boy's hips, mouth open in awe as he watches Jett move, absolutely mesmerized. Suddenly the beta's head is tipping back, and he's making this sound that draw all the air out of Boyd's lungs. Jett says he's going to come, Boyd is already there. Walls slam harder around him, clenching and warm and Boyd can do nothing but gasp as he reaches climax. His cock throbs, pulsating as he spurts over and over. He knows he's filled the condom by now, can feel his release seeping out at its opening. Jett doesn't stop moving though, he rides Boyd
until he's afraid he might break his promise of keeping conscious, burst of light appearing behind his eyes. The boys voice when he says Boyd's name upon climax will be something he dreams of for the rest of his life. He shudders as Jett's release splashes across his stomach, fingers stroking the boys hips until he's finished, sitting still and spent in Boyd's lap. He is crying, he knows, but can't bring himself to care. They are tears of adoration, astonishment at this boy he loves more than living.
Tenderly his hand rises, palm coming to gently cradle Jett's cheek. Somehow he finds the strength to lean forward, elbow bracing against the mattress to propel him forward, at the same time tugging Jett down until their lips finally meet. Its soft and loving and everything Boyd had ever wanted it to be.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." Jett murmurs, still panting lightly in between kisses. He can't stop saying it, wants Boyd to know just how true it is. He's never experienced anything even close to this passionate. He knows he'll never have a moment this special again. Knowing Boyd has given him the gift of his virginity is something he'll always cherish. "That was so amazing. You were so amazing." He drops one more kiss to Boyd's lips before slowly lifting himself up. He lets out a shuddering whine at the feeling of emptiness that follows Boyd's limp member slipping out of him. Carefully, he removes the condom, holding it gingerly between two fingers and tossing it into the small trash can underneath of Boyd's night stand. "God, I love you." He says it one final time, silly grin stretching across his face as he allows himself to collapse beside the boy. "I'll clean you up then, but I need cuddle time first." Jett lets out a yawn as he curls into Boyd's side, nuzzling his face in the crook of the boy's neck. "And I'm not sure I'll be able to walk at least for a few hours." He teases softly.

"You were amazing. Gosh, I-I love you so much my heart might burst." Boyd shivers as Jett lifts himself, suddenly cold without the boys walls cradling him. Thankfully the chill doesn't last, Jett throws the condom away and finally allows himself to collapse at Boyd's side. The boy is grinning, silly and bright, and Boyd feels his stomach flip at the sight of it. He knows he is blessed. but Jett keeps reminding him.
"Ill take a shower soon. I-I don't think I could walk right now either." It's no lie. Boyd can't feel his legs anymore, but he doesn't mind. With Jett lying in his bed he has no want to move, only shifts in order to pull the boy closer, until he could clutch Jett easily against his chest. "I just uh...I want to hold you for a while." He feels undeniably clingy, lips resting tenderly against Jett's temple. "I want to savor this." It had been without a doubt the greatest experience of Boyd's life. He can't think about it without tearing up, arms wound tight around Jett's waist. This was bliss, better than any dream Boyd ever had.

Three months later and Boyd and Jett were still going strong. Tonight, however, was a school night so Boyd was home in his own bed while Jett was home alone. Ollie was over with Nikita, Mal was out on some date, and Thatcher and Eustass were out having a date night together.
The couple had just gotten out of the movie theater, Thatcher still making fun of the lame romantic comedy they had elected to watch together. Before that, they'd had dinner at the nicest restaurant in town and Thatcher had tried now to show just how touched he was that Eustass had made the reservations months in advance. God, he loved this man.
They'd decided to park Thatcher's Jeep far away from the theater so they had the opportunity to take a little stroll together and enjoy the cool night air. They didn't do things like this nearly enough, Thatcher thought to himself, as he leaned his head on Eustass's shoulder. They really needed to get out more.
"Hey, ya know that I love you more than anything, right, big guy?" He finds himself smiling lightly as he intertwines their fingers. However, it's just then that he hears something that sounds like a gunshot in the distance, followed by the strong smell of blood.
That never means anything good.

Galileo Gray had left his truck in a run down parking lot, keys tucked away under the seat.  He took a moment to merely admire his truck, a worn out Chevy with chipped paint and no air conditioning.  It was older than him by two whole years, and despite it's age had been the most reliable thing in Galileo's life.  It might sputter a bit but it always starts up.  He hopes that someone will find it before it happens to get towed.  Its somehow in better shape than he is.  Some lucky soul might still get a few years out of it.  
"See ya Roxanne. Thanks for all the lifts."  It was pathetic, saying goodbye it a vehicle but it was the only thing Galileo had to part with.  Running his fingers over the fading paint job, Gally drifts towards its rusty tool box. He clicks it open with ease, reaching around until he feels cool metal brush against his palm.  Galileo doesn't look at the gun, knows without a doubt the safety is still on as he stuffs it into the waistband of his jeans.  It's already loaded, holds six bullets even though all he needs is the one.  
He wanders the town after that, drifting on foot until the sun is finally starting to set. Galileo stops at small clearing to watch, hoping he might feel something, anything, but all he feels is bitter.  He wonders if his mother had gotten to see one last sunset before she died, doubts it.  The thought is sour, brings with it a familiar ache.  For once Gally swallows it down without dwelling on what he's lost, without picturing his mother's face as she struggles to breathe.  There had been blood.  It bubbled at the corner of her mouth, seeped slow and teasing from her broken nose.  Galileo can still see her face, will never forget the sounds she made.
The boy slumps against a concrete wall, stomach bottoming out at the memory.
Jesus, he's so tired of seeing it.  The solid weight of a revolver in his waistband promising he wont have to endure for much longer.  Maybe he'd see his mother again.  Maybe he'd just disappear forever. It doesn't matter which, just so long as he's not here anymore, walking the streets with nowhere to go.  There's an alley way just across the street.  It's getting dark now, enough cover that no one would notice him if he was far enough in the shadows.  He's made it to the edge of town, no one around to bare witness, no one to hear him, no reason to worry some unsuspecting bystander would happen upon his body.  Gally knows this part of town.  Tomorrow the garbage men will be by to clean out the dumpster.  They can figure out what to do with his body, maybe take it out with the rest of the trash.
Galileo spares one last glance at the setting sun, eyes trailing the strokes of orange and pink brightening the view, being quickly consumed by an inky blue nighttime sky.  It wouldn't be a bad thing to die under the stars.  He was named after the great Galileo Galilei, an astronomer his mother had  favored, one of the very first.  
"He was a great man,"  She'd say, smiling soft and gentle.  She liked to look at stars.  She cried alot when she looked at them, quietly pointing out constellations as if it would keep him distracted.  "He was the one who discovered the four major moons of Jupiter. They are named the Galilean moons in his honor.  Just like you, my little moon boy." She'd stroked his cheeks, helped him trace a constellation in the freckles at his shoulder.  It was just a little dipper, but Galileo could still remember the bright fascination of feeling as though he had stars on his skin.
He wishes he could feel that now.  It would be a miracle if he could feel anything but grief.  
Gally plops down against the back wall of the alley way, settling his revolver safely on the cool cement at his side.  The boy reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a well worn copy of the iliad.  Another reminder of his mother, her favorite book.  Galileo flips easily through the pages, he knows them all by heart, knows he's tucked the picture into a certain page.
His favorite. His mother's favorite. She'd told him this story throughout his life, until she wasnt there to tell anymore of how when her great fabled Achilles learned that his Patroclus was dead, he wept so loud the gods at the bottom of the sea could hear him.  Galileo knows what is it like to cry like that, to grieve so desperately.  He wonders if any of the god's heard him.  He wonders if any of them cared.
Gingerly Galileo props his book against the opposite wall, fingers still holding fast to the small picture he'd plucked from between tattered pages. He's seen it a million times, has the imagine printed behind his eyelids, and somehow it still manages to take his breath away every time.  Maybe it's just been that long since he's heard her voice.  Maybe he's just getting more and more unstable as time marches on.
Well, that stops tonight.  For him at least.  The world will keep turning and people would keep living and it wont matter that there's one less bastard child in the word.  Galileo is struck by the sudden urge to disappear again, to hurry before the ache in his chest turns into something more, something that might sting his eyes and cause him to do a messy job. He is tempted to just get it over with, but this will be the last time he ever sees his mothers face.  He has to take a moment to savor it, trace the familiar upturn of her smile.  He'd been cursed to look more like his father, but by god when he smiled he was the mirror image of that women with soft blue eyes, blonde curls framing her delicate face.
He hopes shes at peace, wherever she is.  No matter how foolish, he prays for her peace and disregards his own. Galileo doesn't particularly remember what that feels like anyways.
Tenderly he brings the picture to his lips, kisses the printed image of his mothers cheek.
"I tried ma.  I really, really tried.  So I hope you wont be too upset at me."  His mother had been the one to give him this gun, placing it in his hands and making him promise to protect himself, no matter what.  He still remembers her eyes that day, sad and blue as the ocean.  Gally knows he should feel more guilt than he does, but the numbness is always there.  He's used to it by now. "And I know you tried, too.  So it's okay. Me an' you are gon' be jus' fine and dandy here pretty soon."  His father would never find them now.  Galileo feels as though he should be more afraid than he actually is.  He doesn't worry about being in pain, or disappearing completely.  His fear is of waking up here, alone, again.  Or somewhere else, somewhere worse than the hell he's in now.
"Jesus, please just let it be over."  The boy tenderly props his mothers picture against her book.  He expected his hands would shake more than they do, just a small tremble.  Galileo lies to himself and says its just anticipation.
He knows how to work the safety, clicks it off without so much as a glance at its button.  The sound of a gun cocking is loud in his little alley way, bouncing off concrete and creating knots in Galileo's stomach. He doesn't stop to process the feelings.  It's senseless to chicken out, he has no reason to.  No one will be looking for him.  He has no place to go.  He will be back in this same spot again tomorrow if he doesn't go ahead and do it tonight.
Galileo has never been one for needless procrastination.
The metal is cold against his temple, sends an uncomfortable wave of chills down his spine.  Thankfully he will have to endure it for only a few moments, strong callused finger already curling around its twelve pound trigger. He vacantly wonders how long it will take to die.  As a child he imagined himself drowning slowly in blue ocean waves, or getting mauled by a shark.  Thats rare.  He would have liked to have been one of those horror stories on shark week.  At least then maybe he wouldn't be completely forgotten.  He hears its quick, bleeding out by shark bite.  Maybe this will be, too.  Quick and painless.  
Gally opens his eyes, takes one last look at his mothers picture.
He pulls the trigger.

Eustass had been planning this night ever since Thatcher deployed, distracting himself from his mates absence by ensuring they would have a perfect date together the very first chance they got.  It had been perfect, taking Thatcher to dinner and watching him order something new and exotic from the menu.  He didn't remember much of the movie, had spent all of his time discreetly glancing at the blonde, helplessly reminded of the sun each time Thatcher found something funny enough to laugh at.  Even their stroll back to the jeep had been wonderful, an arm curled tight and possessive around his mates waist.  Eustass was looking forward to all the fun they would have upon getting home, eagerly excited to touch his mate after so many long months apart, half a world away.  The man was leaning in to capture Thatcher's lips in a chaste kiss when he heard it, a gunshot sounding in the distance. It could have almost been mistaken for a stay firecracker, if not for the sick smell of blood that followed only seconds after.
"Oh hell, that doesn't sound good."  The alpha all but groaned, already lamenting their evening being cut short by god only knows what.  Nights like this nearly always ended with them carrying home a new beta, and while Eustass was thrilled to have his pack growing it seemed like a tragedy to lose this time with Thatcher, their first date night in months.  Not to mention that some poor soul had probably just been shot.  Eustass is near dizzy with the strong scent of blood, thick and immediate.  If they didn't move quickly whoever it was will have already bled out by the time they arrive.
"Stay behind me, alright?  Just until I know what we're dealing with here."  The alpha catches Thatcher's gaze, serious.  "I mean it Thatch.  No soldier stuff. This could be dangerous."  Eustas vividly remembers stumbling upon Jett, blood pooling impossibly fast around the boys torso.  Someone had done that to him. The alpha still can't believe anyone would ever pull a gun on his Jett.  Even though he's witnessed the aftermath, it's still unthinkable.  
He needs Thatcher to be safe, at least until he knows that whoever had been firing the gun was gone, far enough away a bullet could never make it to his mate.
"Lets hurry.  Whoever it is, they are bleeding out, fast."  Eustass starts in the direction of the blood, wishing he'd sent Thatcher for their jeep.  They'd need it if this person could be saved, and the alpha was desperate for a reason to get his lover away from the scene until he knew exactly what they were dealing with.  The alpha doesn't bother asking Thatcher to go back for it, knows he'd only be wasting his breath. And they don't have time to argue.  That gunshot was distant.  They had a lot of ground to cover and little time to cover it.
By the time they make it to the outskirts of town, he has little hope they will find this person alive.  They near an ally, the scent so thick Eustass can taste the metallic twinge of blood on his tongue. It had to be here, just a few more steps.  The alpha waits, carefully reading the silence.
Except it's not completely silent.  Eustass is shocked by a soft thud, the sound of heart struggling to keep beating. Its only the one.  The last person they saw had been several blocks past, going about their business as though they'd never heard the gunshot.
"Stay here for just a second."  Eustass doesnt know why he whispers.  Whatever poor bastard thats laying in this alley is surely in no shape to do anyone any harm.  Still, the alpha waves a hand at Thatcher to keep back as he slowly steps into the darkness surrounding the alley, bracing himself for what he might find at its end.
"Oh, Jesus christ!"  Eustass blinks down at the slumped body of what can only be a teenager, young adult at best. As he steps closer the alpha can distinguish a wet rattling sound, heart plummeting as he realized it was that kid, his lungs still struggling to draw air, fighting to stay alive. Its nauseating. Eustass backs himself against the wall only to realize with bile rising in his throat that there is blood everywhere, and now he's covered in it, entire back warm and sticky.  They are surrounded. It's coating the walls and pouring steadily onto the pavement from an unmistakable wound in the boys temple. The alpha is horrified when he takes another step, only for his foot to catch on something metal, something heavy that scrapes across the cement.  He looks down, gaping at the blood stained revolver at his feet.  He realizes that he stepped on the kids hand, his finger still curled loosely around the trigger.
Jesus, he's been holding the gun.  He'd done this to himself.
The realization is mortifying.  Suddenly all the alpha can see are his children, their beautiful faces, what it might be like if were to ever find one of them, like this. The thought has Eustass gagging, backing so quickly out of the alley he winds up stumbling onto his ass just in front of Thatcher.  
Oh God, Thatcher.  He can't possibly let his mate see this. He himself might never get it out of his mind.
"C-Come on Thatch.  I uh, I don't know that this one can be saved.  I think its best we don't make it worse."  This kid had shot himself point blank in the head.  Eustass couldn't fathom biting him.  What if it didn't take?  What if he just caused this poor kid more agony before he died?  And what if it did take?  What would he do when this suicidal kid woke up? Angry that he'd gone through so much trouble only to wake up alive and well?  He certainly couldnt be left alone with the pack, with their children.  
"Lets go home."  Eustass scrambles to his feet, takes Thatchers hand almost urgently. He prays softly, just under  his breath that for once Thatcher will listen to him and let it go. Follow him away from whatever hell they'd stumbled upon.

Eustass should know by now that Thatcher never listens. Especially when it comes to saving a living creature. This is the man who insists on pulling over whenever he spots a wounded animal on the side of the road. Maybe it's the soldier in him. He's watched so many friends die on the battlefield and has been helpless to save them. He was helpless to save his family as they were burned to death. So when he had a choice, he always chose to help.
How could he walk away now when he could hear that heart struggling to keep beating?
How could Eustass suggest leaving this person to die?
"You know I can't." Thatcher wastes no time, slipping his hand from Eustass's and sprinting towards the slow heartbeat, hardly anything by now.
He's not scared of what he might see, despite how awful Eustass had made it seem. He's sure he's seen worse on the battlefield. There are nerves though, his stomach knotting at the thought that they might not be able to save this person.
Thatcher feels his own heart stop as he sets eyes on the horrific scene in front of him. He's been a soldier for years and never has he seen this much fresh blood. It doesn't deter him though, the sight of this helpless man bringing him to his knees. He doesn't care that he's soaked in blood, arms cradling the man to his chest as he makes the same realization that Eustass did as he examines the man's body.
No, not a man.
It's just a kid, a boy.
He's witnessed countless deaths and yet, this is different. Why does this boy he's never met bring out more emotion than some of his closest friends?
And then it hits him.
This could have been him. He sees himself in this boy who clearly just tried to take his own life and might very well have succeeded, this boy with the picture of a woman propped up beside him. Thatcher knew what it was like to miss someone like this, to lose someone like this.
So many nights after his family was gone, he'd sat in his new empty apartment, pills in hand, contemplating. When he'd been deployed again, nothing changed. He simply got more creative. He was less careful on the battlefield, taunted his enemies, held grenades just a few seconds longer than he should. He'd craved death more than anything.
Bellamy was the only thing that kept him hanging onto his miserable existence. If Bellamy had taken one wrong step in combat and Thatcher had lost him too, he had no doubt that this would have been his future. Bleeding to death in some grimy alleyway with no one left to mourn his death.
He didn't know this stranger, didn't know what drove him to take these drastic measures to end his own life. There was no way of knowing if maybe this kid was better off dead, if by saving his life, they'd bring more danger into their own.
But he never stopped to think of any of that. All he knew was that this could have been him if he'd gone through with the suicide he'd desired. This was what he'd wanted at one point in his life but now, he had so much more. He had the happiest life imaginable.
This boy could have that too. He deserved that life, not this agonizing, lonely death.
Thatcher could give him that.
It wasn't too late. They could fix it.
"Eustass!" He doesn't know when he started crying or when simple crying escalated to hysteric sobbing, doesn't know why when he opens his mouth to plead with his mate, all that comes out is this helpless scream of his name. "Save him!" Blood slicked fingers reach for the boy's throat, sliding along the even bloodier flesh there until he can find a pulse. It's slow and unsteady but he can feel something. Thank God. "It's not too late, you just need to bite him!" Blood pours hot and thick over his hand. He is glad he isn't squeamish. Anyone but a soldier would have surely fainted by now. "God, please!" Thatcher wants to say more but his words trail off into more sobs that wrack his entire body. He doesn't realize that he's jolting the boy in his arms as well, which is probably not the best idea. "Blood, there's so much of it. He's losing so much." His voice is trembling, biceps aching with how tense they are, how tightly he's holding onto this boy. He might never recover if he watches this kid take his last breaths. He hopes Eustass realizes this too, hopes it's enough to persuade him to help. "Please, please, please." The words come out in a pathetic mantra when he can force them. He still doesn't know how to stop the crying, isn't sure that it's possible when a boy is dying in your arms. "He needs help, you need to help! Help me! I can't watch him die. He has to be happy, we can help." Thatcher is no longer sure that he's making sense but he doesn't have time to care. He merely extends the boy to his lover like some sort of grisly sacrifice, fingers still firm on the spot where he feels the spot, the perfect place to bite.

Eustass sputters out a broken string of profanity as Thatcher pulls away, darting into the alley before the alpha has a chance to catch him.  There is no choice but to follow his mate, knowing that no matter how prepared Thatcher thinks he is, nothing can truly ready him for what he's about to witness.  It was enough to send the big bad alpha himself scrambling back, desperate to go home and merely hold his children.  
"Thatcher, please." His voice comes quite, as if he's afraid to disturb this kid who probably doesn't even have enough brain function left to sustain consciousness, much less be bothered by how loud they are.  
Eustass wants to stop his mate from going any further, but he is too late.  The man can only watch, heart throbbing painfully in his chest as Thatcher sinks to his knees, gathers the kid into his arms.  He can't tell what his mate is thinking, isn't sure he truly wants to know.  Eustass understands that Thatcher had been struggling before they met, only now realizes that struggling may not be a strong enough word.  Thatcher looks at this kid like he knows what this is like, to feel like this, and it scares Eustass shitless.  The alpha can't bare thinking of Thatcher, his sunshine boy so lonely and miserable he thought about dying as some sort of relief. He is acutely aware of the moment tears start welling in his lovers eyes, somehow still finds himself shocked at how quickly it deteriorates into hysterical sobbing. When Thatcher finally speaks, Eustass is startled by the sound of his mates voice, a helpless wail that sends tremors down the alpha's spine.  He's never heard Thatcher sound like that, so desperate and distraught. It awakens the mans wolf, sends it into a howling fit of rage.  Claws dig into Eustass's rib cage,  forcing the man to move, to do something that would console his mate.
Jesus, what is he supposed to do?  He's never seen Thatcher so broken as his lover is now, feeling for a pulse and begging, absolutely begging Eustass to make it better. The little broken mantra of please set the mans blood on fire, had his stomach churning with desperation. He needs to do something now, take some of the burden off Thatcher.  It might be in the kids best interest that Eustass take over.  Thatch is shaking so violently the boys head is being jarred in his arms.  God only know what more damage that may be causing.  But how could he tell Thatcher that he's potentially making this worse? They are both potentially making this so much worse.  
At the very least this kid deserved to die in peace. But it doesn't so much matter what this boy deserves anymore.  Eustass is only concerned with Thatcher. If he doesn't at least try, his mate may never forgive him.  The blonde is hardly making sense anymore, talking about this boy being happy even as he bleeds out onto the concrete. Vaguely Eustass wonders if this is what a mental breakdown looks like, or maybe  some terrible episode of PTSD.  He wants more than anything to just hold his lover, wipe the blood away from his neck and cheek where this kids head had rested and take him home, forget they ever came to investigate that gunshot.
Thatcher offers the kid out to him, reminding Eustass an overly gory scene from some b-rated horror film. How has this become his life?
The deeper darker parts of the alpha wants to curse this boy to hell and back for doing this, for picking this one night with Thatcher home to pull some stupid shit like this. Eustass is tempted to try and reason with his mate, but the man is bawling, quivering and begging that Eustass help him, not this kid, but him.
He can never say no to his sunshine boy.
Galileo's head falls limply to the side, eyes open just enough that Eustass can make out the color of them.  He hopes Thatcher hasn't noticed, gently drags a hand down the boys face in an attempt to make him seem more peaceful.
It only smears blood across his cheek and chin.
"Hold his head.  Try not to let it move."  Eustass has seen the bite achieve miracles of life, and still he has his reservations about this one.  He's never tried reviving anyone  with such severe brain damage, isn't sure its even possible.  For Thatcher's sake, he hopes so.
"You know that no matter if he lives or dies, he's going to hurt.  So be prepared, okay?"  Eustass knows that Thatcher is aware, and yet he gently reminds the man anyways, worried about the tears on his mates cheeks, the steady shaking of his grief exhausted frame. He worries seeing this kid in such agony might hurt Thatcher in ways that would never heal. And then to have him die after all of this-
Eustass curses himself for not asking Thatcher to go get their jeep when he had the chance.  Now they were here, and there was no going back.  The least he could do is try and save this kid, for Thatcher's sake.

Conscious comes to Galileo in pieces.  He feels nothing but knows he's slumped against concrete.  Its cold.  His body is cold. Gally wishes he could close his eyes, hopes to fade quietly from this world in darkness, but he can't move, completely and utterly immobile. He waits for his heart to stop.
He believes for a short time maybe he's died. Should know better because he is aware of his lungs struggling to take in wet ragged breaths, blood seeming to come in mouthfuls.  Gally lets it seep from the corner of his mouth, trickle from his nose, wills his body to stop fighting.
Mind drifting under a heavy tide, Gally lets it sweep him away.  
Galileo thinks he's dreaming when he feels himself being moved.  Slowly he tries to make out whats happening. Somehow he can still hear the gun going off, deafening.  His vision comes in and out of focus, eyes only half lidded.  He can make out shapes, someone's face coming into view.  Its a man.  He's crying.  Gallt wishes he'd stop crying. Blue eyes  remind him of his mother. This stranger has blonde hair, too.  Galileo thinks of the being sent down from heaven, can't think of a name, but this person is one of those things. His eyes are the clearest shade of blue Galileo can ever remember seeing. Gally watches the mans face, can't understand why it seems like he's sobbing.  Gally can't hear it, is just distantly aware of the stranger's chest heaving beneath his cheek.  He is still cold, but this hallucination more than makes up for it.  
Ah, angel.  This person is an angel. Galileo is almost proud at having found the word.  This is more than he could have ever hoped for, being whisked away to his death by this blue eyed soldier of god.
Gally has been numb. He hasn't felt anything besides the creeping chill of death.
But now he is convinced he can feel arms around him, holding him so tightly Galileo is almost certain this is real.  How could he imagine this?  
Oh yeah, Bullet. Brain. Bleeding.
Dying.
Gally can't understand why this mans face keeps moving, doesn't realize he's being jostled in the strangers arms.  It's shocking and sudden and one moment he is looking into the bluest oceans and then its grey, so grey Galileo feels a flutter of panic on his chest.  He wonders if this is how he is supposed to feel, afraid of death.  But Gally isnt afraid of that, just doesn't want to face it without having that beautiful blue to keep him calm.
He realizes belatedly that they aren't alone, him and the angel.  There is someone else hovering nearby.  Maybe it's the person who takes you to the other side. The skeleton.  Galileo busies himself trying to sluggishly think up a proper name.  By the time he settles on grim reaper, Eustass is hovering just in his line of view.
Gally wishes he'd move.  The other stranger was better, even in varying shades of grey. If these are his last moments, Galileo wants to see the angel again.  Just one more time.

Thatcher does as Eustass asks, holding the boy's head still. Well, he tries to, at least. His hands tremble, entire body still moving with sobs he has somehow managed to silence but is helpless to stop. His grip is firm though, tilting the boy's chin upwards with his thumb so Eustass has room to work.
"I know, I just need him to live. Just hurry. Please, you have to hurry." The last word is verging on a scream again. He never yells at his mate, never issues commands like he's the alpha, but he can't help it tonight. If this boy dies in his arms because Eustass doesn't bite him quickly enough, he doesn't know how he'll recover.
He won't. He's certain he'll see this face, bloody and lifeless, in his dreams until the day he dies.
Thatcher tries to calm down finally, hides his face in the boy's neck, attempting to murmur comforting words. He hopes somehow, somewhere, this kid is hearing him. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to help you. I'm going to help you. You're gonna be happy and you're going to be glad we saved you. I promise. If this works, you're going to be happy." He was going to see this boy have a happy life, even if it killed him. He had promised now. There was no going back on this.

Eustass is breathless at the sight of his mate so distraught, heart plummeting so far the alpha isnt sure he will ever get it back in the right place.  Cursing softly, he reaches a gentle hand to grasp Thatcher's neck, forcing the man to meet his gaze, ruby red and determined. "I'm going to hurry, okay?  I promise.  Just breathe Thatch. You are going to be okay."  Even if this kid doesn't make it, Thatcher has to.  Eustass can't focus while his mate is sobbing, can't think of anything other than the feeling of Thatcher's despair.  The mans beautiful blue eyes glint with something akin to grief, and it sends Eustass's wolf into an urgent panic.  He has to fix it.  He has to fix it now.
The man swipes blood away from his mates cheek, takes a moment to make sure Thatcher is breathing even despite his sobs, reminded by the sound of them to finally spare a glance down at the kid.  He has to hurry, for Thatcher's sake.  
Galileo can't see anymore.  The world is dark, but not quiet.  Gally can hear ringing to his right.  It's as though the gunshot hadn't ended yet, was just sounding forever in his mind. There was something else though, something softer being whispered against his left ear.  The angel, Galileo realizes in a daze. The angel is talking to him.  Gally wants to know what he's saying, concentrates what little consciousness he has left into holding onto that sound.
That sound. It's so soft.  Gally can only recall a few times anyone has ever been so soft with him.  There could be more, but his brain isn't exactly in the most reliable shape. He picks up enough words, understands enough to have a loose grasp on what the angel is saying to him.
Everything's going to be okay.  The angel is going to help him-
Says he's going to be happy. Promises.
No one has ever wanted him to be happy.  No one but maybe his mother.
Galileo is stricken by the comforting notion that maybe this is his mother, as angel come down to help him out of this hell.
The boy can't form words, but somehow he manages to smile, just a weak twitch of his lips as he feels  someone's face at the crook of his neck. His mother, his angel, touching him.  It has to be.  His body is numb now, all except for the constant agony at his head, like his brain is splitting down the middle. Somehow he is still aware of someone holding onto him with heavenly hands.  It's got to be the angel, his mother.  Gally doesn't think he'd feel it if anyone else touched him at this point.
Jesus, was he wrong about that.
Galileo isn't aware of the grim reaper hovering, leaning towards him until fangs are sinking into the tender flesh of his neck.
Eustass bites him, deep and desperate, willing the boy to turn with the power only an alpha can muster, stronger now with it's mate nearby, distraught.  He doesn't wait to see if the bite will take, isn't concerned about what might happen with this kid.  Eustass gets up and goes immediately to Thatcher, taking a seat behind the soldier, close enough that he can wrap strong arms completely around his mates waist, as if that would protect the man from all the pain he's feeling.
"Now all we can do is wait. I'll handle this part.  Why don't you go get the jeep?"  The alpha's chin hooks over Thatcher's shoulder, nose gently nuzzling into the base of his mates neck.  He counts Thatcher's heart beats, willing them to slow long enough for the soldier to have a moment of peace, a second to breathe without panic weighing him down.
"I think you need to step away for a second, alright?  I promise i'll stay here and take care of the kid.  I just need to know you are going to be okay, and this isn't okay right now."  At the very least Thatcher could take a break, get away from the sickly smell of blood long enough to breathe without tasting it.  Eustass has never seen his mate so upset.  He's absolutely terrified of how Thatcher might be affected if the bite doesn't take on this kid, this kid that Thatch looks at as if he knows what it's like to be in his place.  Jesus, Eustass is a strong man but he can't bare the thought of Thatcher ever feeling that way, so helpless and unwanted. The sun should never know such darkness.
The alpha is startled as he notices movement in his mates lap.  The kid is moving his head, turning as if to bury his face into the crook of Thatcher's neck.  From what Eustass remembers about brain anatomy, that's an astounding sign that his bite had taken hold.  The bullet seemed to have entered through the kids right temple, exiting his left.  The alpha recalls listening in on one of Trafalgar's lectures about anatomy.  If his memory isn't failing, Law had said the frontal and temporal lobes were areas  nearest the temple. He can't possibly remember which is which, or everything they control, but he distinctly recalls Law mentioning that movement happened around there, and something to do with speech.
At least now he could give Thatcher some hope, a reason to feel as though he can risk taking a break from watching this.  If his mate is thinking like he is, each time he looks at the kid he is reminded of their own. It's devastating.  Eustass wants nothing more than to rush home and hold them.  But this has to be done first.  Thatcher has to be taken care of first.
"See that?  He's moving.  He'll be  fine.  You should go now, sunshine, I got it." The alpha gently nudges Thatcher's shoulder with his cheek, kisses a patch of skin untouched by blood and grime. For a moment Eustass is hopeful his mate might listen in and go, but the damn kid is moving again, making a wobbling noise that almost resembles a whimper.  He's in pain, it seems.  His face is scrunched, looks as though maybe his head hurts the worst.
Eustass isnt surprised by it. The alpha is completely taken off guard though when the kid curls into Thatcher, whining something that sounds suspiciously close to 'momma.'
He must have heard wrong.

Thatcher notices the change. The boy is moving and it's enough to momentarily halt his sobbing. It's going to be okay. This kid is going to be okay. Still, he's ready to tell Eustass that there's no way in hell he is leaving right now.
And then, the boy is curling into his chest, calling him momma.
"I'm not moving, Eustass." Thatcher is trying again, though he's trying to stay as calm as possible. It's hard when someone could still be dying in your arms, though. "Y-you should go get the Jeep, we'll need it soon. I want to take him home so we can get him comfortable, clean him up. Go get the Jeep, I've got him." He hopes Eustass trusts him since his voice is wavering less. It's still bad enough that it hardly sounds like him, but he hopes it's good enough for the alpha.
He's still hesitant, nervous that the bite hasn't taken. He remembers the agonizing pain that had come with his own transformation and is fairly sure that this boy isn't screaming nearly enough. He hopes for the best, hopes that it is just taking a little longer.
Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers Jett talking about how cold he'd been bleeding out in some alley. This boy is probably cold too. Thatcher slips out of his flannel without hesitation. He knows it's not much but if it helps, even a little bit, then he's done something right. He wraps it around the boy's shoulders, like a blanket.
"Shhhh... you're going to be okay. I've got you. You're gonna make it through this. You're strong, I can tell. You're a fighter." This kid definitely was a fighter. It was a miracle his body had held on this long, long enough for them to find him in the first place. "Everything's gonna be just fine." The words are whispered gently into the boy's ear as Thatcher rocks him like he had done with the twins to put them to sleep when they were younger. After a moment, he looks back at Eustass. "Go get the Jeep, p-please. He's cold. We need to take him home."

"Sunshine..."  The alpha cringes as Thatcher asks him to go retrieve the jeep, doesn't know how to tell his mate no, can't explain to the soldier that he's afraid of leaving him alone with this kid long enough to go across town.  What if the bite doesn't take and the kid dies while he's gone?  What would Thatcher do alone in this alley, no one to protect him?  Normally Eustass would never worry his mate might hurt himself, but this isn't normal and he is terrified of what Thatcher might do if things go south.  
The kid jerks again, this time accompanied by a louder whine, as if he wants to scream but cant quite get it out.  Gally has never felt pain like this, not physically.  In seconds the puncture wounds at his neck had began burning, spreading like a wildfire throughout his body.  Galileo can't focus on how his organs feel as if they are being crushed under the weight of aching muscles.  His entire body is being rearranged from the inside out, and still the worst by far is his head.  
Its unbearable.  Gally can't fathom how he's still conscious enough to feel pain like this.  His only comfort is in the arms around him, rocking him steadily as if he were a child.  His mother had never done that before.  Gally would wonder why shes doing it now, but he cant manage to think beyond the pain.  Its as if his temples are exploding all over again, the bullet traveling through his brain in an endless loop.  He distantly remembers being in the ocean, rocked by the tides.  It's the closest he's ever come to being held this way, wishes desperately he had a chance to enjoy it.  He'd been cold then too, but not like this.  There is a chill that sinks into his bone, reaches his very core.  Gally can feel himself shivering. It's violent, causes his entire spine to shudder. The movement sends waves of agony throughout his head. It gets somehow easier though as just the slightest bit of warmth blankets over trembling shoulders.  Gally presses into it, desperate for the smallest relief.  His hand is curled in fabric, as if he's trying to ground himself.  The world seems to be spinning.  It reminds Gally of dancing.
Jesus, he hates it, shoves his face into the closest warmth he can find, the angel's neck.
His hearing is coming back, louder and louder. There are echoes, his voice bouncing off concrete walls. Galileo presses further into the only warmth the can find, hoping to smother the noise.  His head can't take it. The boy tries to focus on the only other sound he registers.  Its soft, comforting, just a whisper.  The angel talking to him again.  
He whines, lips struggling to form a word, just a single one.  It's louder this time, unmistakeable and desperate, begging.
Momma
He wishes he could shut up, not make a fool of himself in front of the angel that might very well be his mother.  Gally has been strong for her his whole life. He doesn't want that to change now, but its useless.  He whimpers when his throat is too raw for anything else.  Its all he can do while his body suffers. The bite is working through his system, healing wounds Gally had never intended to be healed.  He can't understand it, doesn't know why he's in so much agony, still feeling and breathing instead of dead.
Was this some how his mothers doing?  Was she trying to save him?
Gally wishes she wouldnt.  
Eustass watches and know that is the result of his bite taking hold.  Still the alpha is hesitant to leave, gaze trained on the anguished lines of Thatcher's face.  The kid was surely in too much pain from the transformation to be bothered by cold.  Eustass had some time to spare.  And even if he didn't, the alpha would always make time whenever Thatcher is concerned.
"I'll go get the jeep for you." The alpha doesn't immediately move, arms still curled around Thatcher's waist as though he could somehow take some weight off  his mates shoulders.  "You just have to promise me you're going to be okay while im gone."  Eustass takes a moment to scan the area for any of heartbeats, reassuring himself that no one would be able to reach his mate before he got back.  Thatcher would be okay here, for just a few minutes. This is what the alpha tells himself  as he kisses his mates temple, discretely picking up the revolver and tucking it safely away.  
"Ill hurry back, I promise. I love you."  Leaving Thatcher alone in that alley is the hardest thing Eustass has ever done.  The alpha would never admit it, but he spends the quick sprint across town cursing that kid for doing this.  His mate deserves to spend what little time he has home enjoying himself, not sitting in some alley playing mommy to a suicidal teenager.  Their real children are at home, waiting for them.
It takes twenty minutes for Eustass to run across town and make it back with the jeep.  The entire time his heart is in his throat, wolf thrashing violently with the need to set eyes back on his mate.  He pulls as close as he can get to the alley, shoulders finally unwinding at the sight of Thatcher, physically unharmed.  It seemed as if the kid had finally calmed down, head laying limply against Thatcher's shoulder.  He seemed to have some level of consciousness to him, curling closer against Thatcher's chest as he notices Eustass approaching.
"Alright sunshine, come on. I can take it from here. I want you to go get in the jeep. I have the heat on for you." Eustass reaches out as if to take the kid, hopeful his mate can finally let go now that they are out of the woods. The bite took. The kid will live. Thatcher has no reason to keep hurting himself by worrying about it.

By the time Eustass returns with the jeep, Thatcher has calmed slightly. Not much, but he's only teary eyed instead of sobbing. It's something. Still though, when Eustass reaches out as if to take the kid from him, he jerks back so violently he nearly tips over completely. The thought of the boy being taken from him is too much to handle. He's never letting go.
"No, I've got him. You just drive." He never looks up to fully meet Eustass's gaze, too concerned with holding the boy to his chest. He's stopped struggling so much and for that, Thatcher is thankful. He was sure he'd still hear the boy begging and calling him momma in his nightmares. The logical part of him knows that he doesn't have to worry anymore, the bleeding has stopped so the bite has clearly taken. And yet, he's clearly not being very logical tonight. There's a part of him that is still worried, terrified that somehow this boy won't make it, that he'll die in his arms and Thatcher will never be able to recover.
It feels like losing his family all over again. He needs this boy to live, needs to see him smile, just once. It'll all be worth it then.
He makes it to his feet, quickly moving to the jeep and climbing into the backseat with the boy in his arms, even as every muscle in his body seems to tremble and ache. He's a soldier, he's good at pushing through things when there is work to be done. He cradles the kid securely in his arms, urging Eustass to begin the drive home. He still wants to hurry, won't be satisfied until the boy is safe, warm, and conscious in their home.

Galileo is on the very edge of consciousness, just enough to feel the pain and know that something has changed. He sees in different shades of grey. The colors are too bright, Gally squints against them and curls into the crook of Thatcher's neck.
"M-Ma? I was supposed to die." His voice is nothing but a ragged plea, soft in the angel's ear. "Please let me. I miss you." Eustass approaches, and as if feeling his presence the boy quiets, breaths shallows huffs against his saviors neck.
The alpha comes around to make sure Thatcher is strapped in, to check once more and see his mate has finally stopped crying. He shuts the door for them. Galileo flinches at the sound, presses closer to Thatcher as if to hide from it. Through everything, bleeding out in the alley and enduring the transformation, Galileo had never once shed a tear. There is only one now, wetting the boys eyelashes and trailing slow down his cheek. "I...I don't want to be alone anymore, Ma."
Eustass gets behind the wheel, starts up and takes off without looking at Gally once. The man only has eyes for Thatcher, glancing into the rear view mirror every few minutes to assure himself there would be no more tears. The drive home is silent. Eustass listen's to his mates heartbeat as if it were the radio.
He isn't surprised to see Bellamy's truck in his driveway. The soldier is standing outside, waiting. He parks the jeep, gets out to open Thatcher's door for him but Bellamy beats him to it, nearly yanking the metal off its hinges in his haste to set eyes on his friend. There is only one other time that he's sensed Thatcher hurting like this, when a house fire consumed the mans entire family. Bellamy is terrified of what he mind find as he peeks into the jeep, immediately nauseated by the thick scent of blood.
Jesus, he hopes it isnt Thatcher's.
"What the hell happened out there? You two said this was a date night!"

Thatcher's eyes are teary when the boy speaks to him, the first complete sentence he's managed to get out.
"Don't worry, you're not going to be alone anymore. I'm here." He doesn't speak anymore for the rest of the ride, merely praying silently as he continues to rock the boy in his arms.
It's not uncommon for a newly turned beta to lose consciousness while their wounds fully heal. Jett had, the night Eustass had found him. Even Thatcher himself had, his body resting as it healed on Eustass's couch. However, this knowledge didn't stop Thatcher from panicking when the boy in his arms seemed to go limp. He works himself into a panic, wondering if the bite didn't take after all. By the time they are parking in front of their home, he's in a hurry to get inside where they can properly take care of their new beta.
Normally, the sight of his best friend was enough to calm him but he is nearing hysterics again, desperate to make sure this kid in his arms is okay. So he brushes straight past Bellamy and Eustass and rushes for the front door.

Jett is inside. He's been alone, since Boyd isn't allowed to spend the night on school nights. Unable to stand another second bored and lonely in his bedroom, he'd made his way downstairs where he was lounging on the couch, searching for something to watch on tv.
That's when the smell of blood hit him.
Blood and Eustass, the two easiest smells for him to pick out.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
He was at the door before they even arrived, his heart beating out of his chest until he finally sets eyes on the couple, emerging from Thatcher's jeep, and assures that the blood is not coming from his alpha.
The next thing he knows, Thatcher is bounding towards him, blood covering nearly every inch of him, another man in his arms.
"Move!" Thatcher bellows and Jett obeys without saying a word, a rare occurrence for him, stumbling out of the way and staring wide eyed as the man makes his way into the home.
Thatcher lays the bloody stranger in the middle of the floor, leaning in to check if his heart is beating.
Jett takes several steps back, merely standing in the corner of the room to watch. He doesn't want to be in the way.
The stranger isn't bleeding anymore, Jett guesses Eustass has given him the bite already. But he's still covered in it. Jett has never been squeamish but he is feeling a bit woozy at the sight of it all. Thatcher and this new beta, all covered in it. Warm, metallic, sticky. His stomach lurches in protest and he leans against the wall to brace himself.
He has never seen Thatcher like this. The man is sobbing, shaking the stranger like a ragdoll. He's clearly not in his right mind.
"Wake up! You have to wake up!" The soldier repeats it over and over again, becoming more and more frustrated when his request is ignored.

Eustass pauses in the doorway, glances at Jett as if he wants to say something, assure his beta that everything is going to be okay-
But Thatcher is crying.  His mate is sobbing so hard Eustass can feel it in his chest and it's grating the alpha's nerves raw.  He can't bare the sound of his lovers hurt, has to make it stop. Claws are shredding him from the inside out, his wolf running rampant. The more frustrated his mate becomes, the more desperate his wolf. Eustass doesn't realize it but he is trembling. The sight of Thatcher on his knees, clearly not in his right mind and shaking that damn boy is something he will dream about for the rest of his life. The noise his mate is making now, it will haunt Eustass even when the man has been deployed and he is left here. He will hear it. He will never stop hearing it.
The alpha drops to his knees just behind the sobbing soldier, close enough that Thatcher's back brushes against his chest each time the man moves.
"Thatcher, sunshine boy, you have to let him go." Eustass's chin hooks over his mates shoulder, much like he'd done back in that alleyway. It's meant to be calming. Tonight's the first time it's ever failed him.
"Let the kid go so we can take care of him and I can take care of you." Eustass's voice is soft but authoritative, hands coming to gently curl at the soldiers waist. He doesn't try to pull Thatcher away yet, is afraid that if he makes any sudden wrong move it will only further add to his mates distress. He can't do that. He can't make this any worse.
"The kid is going to be fine. He is breathing. His heart is beating." Eustass allows a moment for his words to settle, reaches to swipe blood and grime away from the kids temple. It's impossible to tell what color his hair had been, but its clear there is no more bleeding. The wound has closed. He hopes that seeing it will somehow soothe away Thatcher's worry.
"See there? He is fine. Now he needs to rest, and so do you." The alpha waits until he's certain Thatcher has seen that the bite worked before finally rising, forcing the soldier to let go of their new beta as he is swept up, cradled like an infant against Eustass's chest.
"C'mon, lets go get you cleaned up." He talks like he's trying to calm a terrified child, moves towards the staircase as if walking on eggshells. Bellamy seems as though he wants to follow, but instead crouches beside the new beta. He can handle this while Eustass is taking care of Thatcher. It's the least he can do for his friend.

"Eustass, let me go!" Thatcher growls harshly, shifting in his frustration as he tries to scramble from his lover's arms. "I don't want to leave him! He said he doesn't want to be alone!" Claws scrape against the alpha's shoulders as Thatcher lifts himself up to see over the man's shoulders, glancing at the boy's unconscious body on the floor.
Jett chooses this moment to act, stepping towards the new beta's body.
"He's not gonna be alone. I'll watch him, I promise. I'll handle it." He kneels beside the boy as if to demonstrate to Thatcher that he's serious. He's never so kind but he can sense his alpha's distress, will do anything in his power to soothe it. He glances up at Bellamy, jerking his head over towards Thatcher. "Go help Eustass with him. I can handle this."

Eustass doesn't let go.  He tucks Thatcher against his chest, ignores the sting of claws scraping fair skinned shoulders.  What hurts the worst is his heart, the dull ache spreading throughout his body caused by the harsh way Thatcher had shifted in his arms.  His mate had growled at him in a way Eustass has never heard, not even in those early days when the soldier was still taking up residence on his couch.  The sound would have been enough to make him flinch had the alpha not been so dead set on keeping himself passive.  Thatcher would feel bad later if he thinks he's done something to hurt the man.  Eustass tells himself its fine.  A side effect of his mates frustration.  He can take it, if he has to.
Thank god for Jett.  The alpha turns just long enough to mouth a sincere thank you to his beta, adding this on to his growing list of reasons he adores the boy.  Jett has never let him down.  Eustass will have to make this up to him later, but for now the boy has given him an out and the alpha is damn well taking it before Thatcher can find another reason to protest.
He carries his mate up the stairs, palm buried in matted blonde hair, cradling the soldier's head on the trip up to their room. Eustass doesn't try talking anymore.  He's humming instead, a soft familiar tune.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  
The alpha walks right through the bedroom, only stopping once he's come to the luxurious clawfoot tub in their bathroom.  Eustass had bought it as a surprise for Thatcher to celebrate the mans coming home on Christmas one year. He is someone who prefers showers, only using the tub because he likes the intimacy of taking baths together.  Tonight that is the furthest thing from the alpha's mind.  
He leans down to turn on the water, filling the tub before settling down with Thatcher in his lap. He's still humming as he gingerly peels the mans blood soaked shirt away.
You make me happy, when skies are grey.

Bellamy glances up at Jett, momentarily surprised by the boys sudden show of kindness.  He doesn't know why it comes as a shock, being he hasn't been around the young beta long enough to know him. The soldier doesn't have time to think about it, but if he did he'd know his apprehension of Jett came from listening to his husband explain the many reasons this boy isnt right for their son.  Vitaly's feelings usually somehow become his own, even without his noticing.
"I appreciate that.  I guess Boyd was right about you.  You're a good kid."  Vitaly couldn't like Jett because he was dating their youngest boy.  Bellamy doubted his lover would like anyone Boyd brought home, but this kid is good.  He isn't being asked to help, but here he is helping just so that Bellamy can go check on Thatcher.  That makes him kind, instantly gets him into the soldier's good graces.
"I'll be back down soon to see how you guys are doing."  Bellamy spares one last glance at the kid lying bloody on the floor where Thatcher had been forced to leave him.  He looks young, and almost peaceful like this.  The soldier can't help but wonder what happened to him, what could have possibly caused so much blood to spill out in such short a time.  It looked as though the kids jacket used to be a dark brown. It seems well worn, now dyed black.  It's obviously seen better days, along with the boys shirt and jeans.  By the looks of this kid he's spent time on the streets, struggling.
And still that doesn't explain why Thatcher was so affected by it.  What makes this kid different from all the young men they've seen die in battle?  The kids who breathe their last alone only to be tossed in some unmarked grave or shipped home in a wooden box?  Bellamy stares hard at the kids face, but gets no answers from it.  Maybe Thatcher will be honest with him later once things have calmed down, once this terrible night is over with.
He notices another article of clothing, soaked through and mostly ruined. The kid is still holding onto it. A closer glance reveals it's one of Thatcher's flannel shirts.
Seeing it makes his heart hurt, reminds him that Thatcher needs him upstairs.
Bellamy turns, offers Jett a tired smile.  It's lopsided but genuine, almost a mirror of Boyd's.
"Hopefully the guy will stay unconscious until big red figures out what to do with him. If not just yell I guess. Eustass can take over from there."  The soldier ruffles Jett's hair, just as he does Nikita's and Boyd's before thanking him one last time and darting up the stairs after Eustass and Thatcher.

Thatcher believes that the boy is okay now, trusts that he will live. And with Jett watching over him, at least he won't be alone when he wakes up. Still though, he doesn't like being separated from him. His chest is still heaving with silent sobs even as he lets himself lean into his mate's chest. He doesn't fully relax until he is being settled in the bathtub with Eustass's arms around him, soothed by the man's humming.
He lets the warm water ease the tension from his muscles, realizing just how stressful and damaging the past hour or so has been to his body. He relaxes the best he can, leaning back into the alpha's arms. For a moment the soldier is silent, letting Eustass undress him as he tries to forget about the boy downstairs. Finally, he speaks.
"I'm sorry." It's a quiet murmur. "I don't... I don't know what got into me." It's not a lie, really. He does know why it upset him so much. But even still, he doesn't know why or how he lost complete control over his emotions like he had. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to explain the effect that this new beta had on him. "I'm just sorry."

Jett smiles after Bellamy for a moment as the soldier jogs up the stairs, pleased that his lover's father seems to like him now. Vitaly might hate him, but at least he would have Bellamy on his side. He couldn't wait to tell Boyd the good news. But for now, he's got a bloody and unconscious stranger to deal with.
Jett leans in to examine the new beta closer.
His first realization is that this man is very bloody. He needs some cleaning up.
He decides to take care of it, scooping the limp body into his arms and heading for the downstairs bathroom. He lays him on the floor gently when they arrive before getting to work.
The stranger is covered with a flannel shirt. Jett is pretty sure it's one of Thatcher's. It's blood soaked, just like everything else. He can’t tell if it’s a bright red shirt or if that’s just the blood.
He grabs a wash cloth and wets it, using it to wipe blood away from the man's face.
His second realization, as he clears away all of the muck and grime, is that this stranger is pretty cute. He's handsome in a rugged kind of way. He is short but solid with soft brown curls. Jett can't see what color his eyes are in his current state, but he likes to imagine that they are a nice shade of copper.
His third realization, as he remembers where Eustass had pointed to show Thatcher the wound had healed, is that the man bled so much because he had been shot in the head. Jett doesn't even consider that he might have done it himself. Why would Eustass save someone who wanted to be dead? Instead, he feels bonded with this stranger. Both of them had faced death, stared down the barrel of a gun and would live to tell the tale.
He thinks of what it might be like to have a friend around here.
Sure, he has Boyd and Ollie. But this would be different.
He smiles softly to himself.
This man will know exactly what he went through. He will wake up in an unfamiliar home full of strangers and be told that he's a werewolf and this is his family now. He will feel confused and helpless and lost, just like Jett did.
Jett plans to help him through it. He wants to be the friendly face that understands, the person that he himself never had while making the transition from human to werewolf.
Jett Jones has never been a friendly person, has never wanted to help anyone but himself.
Recently though, Boyd has softened him. His precious little human lover has shown him that sometimes letting people in and being kind can be rewarding.
Jett spent the first nineteen years of his life being isolated and lonely. His entire life until these past few months.
He hated being lonely. Like tonight before this stranger had been brought into his home. Or any night that Boyd was not around.
He was admitting it to himself for the first time.
He wanted a friend. Someone like him.
So he would be nice.
He took care of the stranger. First he undressed him, all except for the boxers he wore. He considered removing those as well so he could bathe him properly, but decided against it, not wanting to invade his privacy anymore than he already had. He made do with the cloth and soap, occasionally shuddering at all of the blood he wiped away, having to stop the process several times to clean the rag before continuing on. Finally, he was finished. He thought the guy looked pretty good for having just almost died a grisly death. Jett had even done a haphazard job of washing the man's hair in the sink, in a process that had involved a lot of effort on his part, trying to position him properly. He might look short, but Jett had quickly learned that looks were deceiving and he was actually pretty heavy.
Finally, he managed to start a load of laundry with all of the bloody clothes, dressing the stranger in some of his own that fit awkwardly on his stocky frame. It would have to do for now.
By the time he got the man situated on the bed in the guest bedroom, he was exhausted.
For a while then, he merely sat on the edge of the bed and watched the man, occasionally assuring himself that his heart was still beating.
"So..." He felt stupid, speaking to himself in the dimly lit room. "I don't know if you can hear me. I don't think so, because I don't remember hearing anybody when I was out. But... just in case you're in there... you're going to be okay. I know you're probably scared right now but you're in a safe place. You'll wake up soon and everything will be just fine. I promise."
He doesn't know why he did that.
It was stupid.
He groans aloud but nevertheless, still leans in and pats the man on the head as if he's a small child. He rests beside the stranger for most of the night, busying himself with watching the peaceful rise and fall of the man's chest, making sure it continues uninterrupted.

"Don't you be sorry." Eustass doesn't know why Thatcher reacted the way he did. He just knows this is important to his mate, and there is nothing to be sorry for. Thatcher will talk when he feels like it, until then Eustass is content to wait and merely hold the soldier. He doesn't bother with his own clothes, focuses all his attention on Thatcher, stripping him bare and using a lathered up rag to wipe away all the layers of grime and still drying blood. He can hear when Bellamy nears their door. The soldier doesn't bother them, but he doesn't leave. As far as Eustass can tell, Bell has taken up vigil outside their room, waiting around just in case Thatcher were to need him. For all of their problems, the alpha is grateful to know his mate has a friend like that, someone who'd leave home and spend hours sitting on the hallway floor, just in case.
Eustass cradles Thatcher's head in his hands, carefully shields the mans eyes as he works on washing matted hair, not satisfied until it's shiny gold between his fingers.
"You know, I felt different when I found Jett." His voice is soft, quiet. Eustass hardly ever speaks of finding his favorite beta, bloody and dying alone on the street. It had affected him in ways he doesn't care to talk about. He had kept himself together for the most part, but Eustass would never forget holding the boy while he screamed in that alley, bleeding out and begging to die. He'd somehow loved Jett from that start. The bond had been immediate for him. Now, the alpha can't imagine a life without his beta.
"It's okay that you care about this kid. He's lucky you do." If not Eustass would have most likely left him in favor of getting Thatcher home without such an incident. He gets out of the tub, still soaking wet. It's only long enough to grab a towel for his mate. The alpha is impossibly gentle with Thatcher, gathering the man in his arms like a child and lifting him from the tub. Eustass sits on the porcelain edge, the soldier situated comfortably in his lap as he works diligently on drying him off. He wants to get Thatcher dry and warm, ready for bed so that maybe, just maybe the man could get a few hours of rest before it was time to deal with their new beta. He dresses the soldier in one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else, bundles him under a small mountain of blankets before disappearing only a moment to strip himself of soaked clothes. He comes back dry and warm, slots himself against Thatcher's back in a way that makes it easy to wrap the man up in his arms.
"Get some rest, sunshine. I'll wake you when the kid gets up." The alpha's lips brush gentle against the back of Thatcher's neck, fingers tenderly caressingly the soldier's chest, just over his heart.

There are gaps in his memory. Gally remembers the angel talking to him in the alley, and then darkness that seems to stretch on forever. He could be dead, but at times he felt himself being jarred as if rolling on ocean waves. Gally could swear he even feels water at one point, cool against his skin. It's not like drowning. There's someone with him. Its not the angel, or the reaper. Galileo doesn't recognize the voice but its soft, reassuring. He wants to follow it.
Gally regains consciousness slowly, and then all at once. It starts as a distant ache.  He should be dead.  He shouldn't be able to open his eyes but he does, and for a moment he thinks that maybe he fucked up.  Maybe he didn't aim just right, and instead of dying he just managed to blind himself.
Of course, that would be his luck.
Everything is so bright.  It's just white noise, nothing particularly distinguishable. And it comes with this indescribable pain that shoots through his head, centered at his temples, right behind his eyes.
Shapes.  He can make out shapes now, just enough to get this vague sense of being in a room instead of out on the streets.  It doesn't smell like a hospital though.    
It smells like the grim reaper. That man who'd been in the alley with him last night.
And the angel-
Gally isnt sure the angel was even there in the first place, just a figment of his broken brain.
But someone else is here. Galileo doesn't move. He just watches, blinking until his eyes settle against the bright light filtering in through an open window. It hurts. His head hurts. Seeing hurts.
But Gally doesn't close his eyes. He endures and he waits for the lines of a face to come into view, sharp cheeks and plump lips. This person is beautiful. He isn't pretty like art, or carved marble stone. He is beautiful like the ocean on a sunny day, light glistening off rolling tides. Beautiful like the sunset Gally had watched, coloring the sky with strokes of purple and pink. He's beautiful in a way that takes Gally's breath away.
So why is he here? What could someone so awe strikingly attractive be doing here? In this strange room with him?
What is this room?
Where is he?
Gally doesn't want to panic, but he can feel the emotion scrawling up his throat, tries desperately to swallow it back down. He does not know this beautiful boy, and still making a fool of himself in front of this stranger would be catastrophic to the little pride he has left.
Jesus, someone has even changed him. Gally looks down and sees clothes that are not his own, that fit just a little too snug. Who did this? Who pulled him out of that alley and why?
What purpose was he serving here?
Slowly, hesitantly, Gally flexes his fingers. He is surprised when they move, rising to carefully brush over his right temple, where the bullet had gone through. It had happened. He knows it did.
So why is it that his fingers feel nothing but a scar? There should be more. He should be dead or dying or blind at the very least. Instead it just hurts, so much he only wishes he were dead. And all he has is a scar to show for it, an absence of color. Jesus, everything is so grey. The only color Galileo can make out is the black of this stranger's hair.
"Jus' who in the hell are you?" His voice is harsh and gravelly, even to his own ears. "A-Are you God?" He could be God. He is beautiful enough, ethereal.

Jett has yet to sleep, though he's almost nodded off a few times while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching this stranger and waiting. He'll never admit to anyone the excitement that ran through him when he realized the boy was waking up. It's pathetic, he knows, to be so excited. But he can't help himself. The prospect of having someone who finally understands what it's like to expect death and instead be thrown into a crazy world where werewolves suddenly exist has his stomach doing backflips. It'd be nice, someone to help him keep his sanity around here.
His first reaction is to laugh when the man asks if he's God. He guesses it's a reasonable question when you think you're dead. Still, he doesn't want to upset the stranger by laughing at him. Lord only knows how he would have gone off if Eustass had laughed at him when he first woke up after undergoing his transformation.
"Nah, but if I was God, I'd watch how I was talking to me if I were you." A small smirk plays on his lips as he examines the man, checking to see if he's in pain. He's prepared to leech if he needs to. "I'm Jett. But that's not important. What's important is how are you feeling?"