*Warning: Strong Language.*

Firm, but gentle hands holding his jaw. He could feel the stiff calluses of his palms. Warm lips pressed longingly into his. It was slow. Sensual. Caring.
He didn't want it to end. He wanted to have Chris's thick sweet scent in his nose all day.
“I'll be home late again tonight.” He said in his lips.
“Studying?”
“Yeah.” He softly lied.
It was hard to fib when those affectionate blue eyes stared into his. But he didn't want Chris to know. He didn't want him to worry. Or worse, make him stop. His back up plan needed to work if the first one fell through.
Another kiss.
“Have a good day, gorgeous.” Chris said, his hands leaving his face.
Heart flutters. That pet name was quickly becoming his favorite part of their morning goodbyes.
“You too. Don't step in any cow pies.” He joked.
Chris's brilliant smile spread into his chuckle.
He liked making him smile. It was a personal challenge to make those lips tip up as much as possible.
With another stolen kiss, he waltzed to the car. Already he could feel a tug in his chest. As he pulled out of the driveway, he knew Chris was still standing at the door watching him go. For five days straight his stare broke through the morning light to follow him until the trees cut off his visage in the rear view mirror. The only thing that remained was that tug.
He didn't know what it was, but it always stayed with him. At times he'd feel snippets of things. But not clearly enough to put a finger on what it was. It was mildly irksome and strange.
After a slow morning at work and an afternoon class, it was off to the library.
Dave was obviously already irritated when he took the chair across from him. His eyebrows were deeply dropped on his forehead. The nares of his nose flaring. He was almost positive he could see fire shooting from his eyeballs at his laptop screen.
He didn't even acknowledge him as he set up his. Just as it booted up, he spoke.
“I swear I'm going to print this shit out and use it for target practice tonight. Gonna blow it to fucking shreds.” He growled.
He chuckled in sympathy.
“That bad, huh?”
“Dude! I have been through every line of this god forsaken code three dozen fucking times, and the damn thing still won't run!”
“Probably missing a backslash somewhere.” He shrugged.
Dave's eyes burned at him.
“Don't even fucking joke about that.”
He suppressed a laugh. Dave's eyes narrowed.
“You've been way too happy lately, the fuck bit you?” Dave nearly hissed.
He raised an eyebrow at him. That question was literally accurate. He found it hilarious. Subtly he tugged at the strings of his sweatshirt to confirm his imprint was hidden.
“Jealous much?” He said through a full laugh.
“No, you're just supposed to be as miserable as I am.”
With a snort he pulled up his programs.
“I guess misery does love company.” He said as he rolled his eyes.
“Shut it, smart ass.”
It was impossible to mute the smile on his face so he hid it behind his screen.
It was an afternoon of a horribly irritated Dave, and free entertainment at his expense. Eventually they got the issue worked out, but it didn't cure Dave of his foul mood. It was the taking turns of firing Dave's Glock that finally seemed to get the scowl off his face. He figured it was a decent replacement for his usual outlet of defending the line of scrimmage.
The indoor range was a nice one. Clean, modern, and lots of lanes. Dave was at ease in it. He wasn't.
Even after coming every evening and staying nearly two hours, he still couldn't get comfortable with how the gun felt in his hands. He didn't like the kick back, and he didn't like how much his arms wavered when he pulled the trigger. It was difficult to keep his eyes open every time it fired. It was even more frustrating to remember to fire when he breathed out rather than holding his breath.
Dave had always been calm and jovial, but when they were on the range, he was all seriousness. ‘Safety and smarts’ was his frequent phrase. He couldn't count how many times he'd been quickly corrected and nearly hissed at for breaking a protocol he barely knew. Using the earmuffs always made it difficult to react immediately when he was being chided.
It was the last of the magazines Dave's dad had been providing. He was ready to go home. His arms were aching. Eyes were tired of focusing on targets. What he really wanted to do was put the gun down and walk out.
Dave's wasn't going to have it though.
He used the last bit of energy in his frazzled mind to try to send bullets to their intended targets. Carefully he set the safety and properly handed the gun back to Dave. Like a zombie he followed him to his car. Blankly he stared out the dark window.
“Hey, mind if I get some drive through before I drop you off? I'm hella hungry.” Dave asked when they hit a stop light.
Without a word he nodded. Sliding down in his seat, he laid his head against the window. He let his eyes close.
“Dude, why the fuck is your neck jacked up?”
Eyes back open.
Instantly he reached for his neck. It suddenly occured to him that his sweater had left it exposed. There must have been enough light from the streetlights for him to see. Quickly his mind raced to come up with something believable. He didn't look at him when he responded.
“Uh…was just being stupid when I was reaching for something on the top shelf of a cabinet. The corner of the door got me good.” He fumbled out.
Silence. The momentum of the car moving forward.
“I call bullshit.”
He internally winced.
“Seriously, that's what happened. It was just some weird freak accident, okay?” He defensively replied.
More silence. Frustrated sigh.
“Look, Dan, I'm your best bud. I know shit is getting serious on the reservation. I may not understand all your wolf stuff, but dude…”
His voice trailed off. The awkward lull was weighing on his shoulders.
“You…get in a fight or something?” Dave cautiously prodded.
He sighed and adjusted in his seat.
“No…”
Another stop light.
“Then what?”
With a groan he rubbed his temples with his fingers.
“You remember those papers Jack brought me the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“You remember what they said?”
“Yeah, that weird ‘imprinting’ shit er whatever.”
A difficult swallow. Pulling into a drive through.
“Well…I imprinted…with Chris.”
“Okay? Care to explain what the hell that means?”
“It's kinda like…”
He was interrupted by a feminine voice cracking through a speaker.
“Sorry,” Dave said, “Want water?”
“Yeah.”
He waited for him to order.
“So it's kinda like…?” He asked when he was finished.
“Like…the equivalent of getting married for humans.” He barely mumbled.
Dave grunted.
“So how does that shit on your neck tie into that?”
“We…use a bite to show we've claimed each other as mates.”
“So, like wedding rings?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And then it's ‘til death do us part’ kinda deal?”
“Yeah.”
Dave grunted again.
He heard him pay for and receive his order. He felt a nudge and he took the cup of water from his hands. It didn't occur to him how thirsty he was until he put the straw to his lips. Sounds of paper crumpling. Munching.
“So, do you like the guy?”
He cleared his throat, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.
“Yeah I like him…” He tried to say in a flat tone.
“No, I mean…like him, like him.” Dave asked through a bite of food.
His throat felt tight.
“Yeah…a lot,” He forced out, “I mean…originally I wanted to do this to keep him alive, 'cause that's what you do in a pack, you take care of each other. I didn't think it would turn out like this. That I could ever…like a guy. But this all kind of just….happened. Now I'm…”
He didn't know how to finish his thought.
“Now you're in deep.” Dave completed it for him.
He released a sigh, “Yeah.”
A moment of silence before Dave started to quietly laugh. He looked at him in confusion.
“Well, you damn lucky dog. Got married while the rest of us are still trying to learn how to pick up chicks.”
Dave glanced at him to give him a wink. He frowned at him, still in confused disbelief.
“Oh, fuck off. You're a football player. You can get any girl you want.”
“I fuckin' wish, but no way in hell. The girls I want don't go to football games. It's just bitches and hoes. I want an intelligent, classy lady. They only hang out in those smart academic clubs, and they don't want a dumbass jock like me.”
He snorted, “You make it sound like you aren't getting your degree in software engineering or something.”
Dave chuckled while he shook his head and smiled to himself. He sipped at his water. Dave finished eating.
“Anyways, you already know I don't give two shits who you're into, so don't worry about it. Ain't my place to judge. I'll beat anyone's ass if they give you trouble, though.” Dave said as he handed him the fast food bag filled with empty wrappers.
He reached over the head rest to place it in a trash bag behind Dave's seat.
“And hell, you're probably gettin' some. I hear gay guys give damn good blow jobs.”
Giving him a look of shock, he punched his shoulder.
“Holy shit, Dave! Shut the fuck up!” He said in embarrassment.
Dave bellowed in laughter.
“What?” He flashed him an innocent look as he wiggled his eyebrows.
“You fuckin' weird ass idiot.” He muttered.
His face was on fire for the rest of the ride back to campus as Dave kept snickering.
Before starting his car, he watched him drive off. Feeling the exhaustion kicking back in, he wished the drive home was going to be shorter.
Bored with the predictable ride home, his brain wandered.
He was grateful for Dave. He couldn't have picked a better best friend even if he'd tried. That jock always knew how ease the stress out of his head.
He'd done just that tonight.