Alpha Assignment (BL) Chapter 17 (Early Access) (Patreon)

A sad little man was standing on his doorstep. Quinn didn’t like how often this scenario was occurring. He slammed his car door and the man jumped at the noise but didn’t run away. The further up the stone path he got, the more familiar the face became.

Assembly. Not Greasy Graham, though. The other one.

His mouth opened when Quinn reached the front door, before he could speak, Quinn hissed, “Not a word until we’re inside.”

Mouth closed, sad nod, he followed him into the house.

He shut the door and tossed his bag onto the sofa. Assembly man took himself to the centre of the living room, just like last time.

“Mister Isaac!” The squeaky greeting came from under the dining table. A top-knot of dark hair popped out from underneath, followed by the rest of Remi. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry, Remi, I didn’t know you were in here alone.” He glanced at Quinn, mild and silent judgement in his eyes.

“Is something wrong…” Quinn froze with a finger in the air, his name on the tip of his tongue. Remi had just said it, but already it had fallen off his brain.

“Isaac, Alpha,” he offered politely. “And no, nothing wrong. With Remi’s assignment to you, it’s the Assembly’s responsibility to check in occasionally on his progress assimilating into the pack.”

“What pack?” Quinn grunted, unashamed of his rudeness.

Isaac pretended not to hear him. “Could I speak to Remi alone, Alpha?”

Quinn gave him a stern look, holding it for a few moments before turning back to Remi. “Is that okay with you, Remi?”

“Yes, Alpha! Mister Isaac is nice.”

Quinn nodded, more to himself. “Okay, let me grab my laptop and I’ll be working from my bedroom.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” they said in unison. Remi sing-song and Isaac weary.

Quinn kept peeking at the pair as he collected his things. They hopped onto the sofa and Isaac pulled out a clipboard from a tatty briefcase he’d brought with him. Before he had scaled the stairs, he caught the first few questions in the apparent check-in.

“Are you sleeping well?”

“I sleep so much now,” Remi revealed, his words filled with wonderment.

“I’m glad.” He sounded it. Exhausted, but glad. “And what about food? Are you getting enough to eat?”

“Plenty, Mister Isaac!”

“You look like you’ve put on a bit of weight,” he noted.

Remi laughed cheerfully in response. “No height, though,” he joked.

Isaac laughed, too. It was the last thing Quinn caught before he shut his bedroom door and their voices became indistinguishable rumbles under his feet.

Jordan noticed his return online immediately. Lots of supportive messages came through, and Quinn couldn’t conjure the energy to be better than blunt. He was okay, he might be disappearing again, will let him know if he needs anything.

Curiosity was too gentle of a word, Quinn was desperate to listen in on the conversation happening downstairs. What would they say to each other without him listening in? Had they found Remi a new pack? Was Isaac concerned about the way Remi was being treated in Quinn’s home?

After an eternity of pacing and wiggling his mouse, which the clock deemed to be only twenty-three minutes, a knock on his door had Quinn leaping over his bed to answer it.

“All finished, Alpha!” Remi announced, bouncing on his toes in the doorway with a smile so bright it could make any alpha wince.

“Good,” Quinn grunted. He didn’t meant to let his frustration show, but Remi noticed immediately: eyes wary and arms tucking in to his sides to minimise his already mini size.

Isaac was poised at the bottom of the stairs, patiently watching alpha and omega descend. With a grazing touch between his shoulder blades, Quinn nudged Remi into the living room. Quinn remained with Isaac.

“Thank you for your understanding, Alpha. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why these checks are so important, but I’m satisfied with your current pack conditions.”

Quinn didn’t respond. He knew his arms tucked tightly over his chest would be read as defensive. He didn’t care.

Isaac bobbed his head and let himself out through the front door.

As he shut it behind him, Quinn grumbled, “Next time, text first or I’m charging the Assembly for my speeding ticket.” Isaac didn’t answer. He didn’t give him time to.

Leaning back against the closed door, Quinn let himself wonder… was he taking good enough care of Remi? It would be unfair to ask Remi what he told Isaac, because he would feel obliged to answer. Any maybe Quinn wouldn’t like the answer… and Remi would be terrified to upset him.

Quinn would need to work it out for himself.

Well-fed, sleeping enough, and Quinn was doing his best to provide entertainment for Remi despite his attempts to dedicate himself to servitude.

He pushed off from the door and headed into the living room. Standing in the centre of the cream carpet, almost to attention, was Remi. A mishmash of colours were crocheted into the cardigan that drooped from his frame; even if it did fit him, which it didn’t, the loose yarn dangling from the hems would betray the ancient condition of the hideous garment. On Remi, it was sweet, an ode to a grandma who had lovingly created something to keep a small child warm. But Remi wasn’t a child. He needed real clothes, ones that fit and were devoid of gaps.

Quinn nodded a request to be followed into the kitchen, they would have lunch together, and while they prepped, Quinn let his mind tug at the loose threads of Remi’s appearance.

Every piece of clothing that Remi had worn since arriving on his doorstep had appeared oversized. Hand-me-downs were a part of growing up in packs - Quinn had been wearing his dad’s old shirts at fifteen when he couldn’t get a limb into any of the teenage-sized offerings. Every pack had a heap of clothes that was regularly added to and picked through. It was the only way to keep up with all the puppies - they grew like weeds. Pre-ownership was not a requirement for clothes, though. Everyone had a few items that were theirs first. Unless someone had convinced Remi he was going to hit an extra growth spurt at twenty-four, it seemed unlikely that any of his clothes had been bought for him.

They chopped vegetables side-by-side: Quinn potatoes and carrots, Remi runner beans and baby sweetcorn. The only sound in the kitchen was the thunk of knives against wood.

“Are you... comfortable with your clothes?” Quinn asked, keeping his eyes on the task.

Remi paused. “Yes, Alpha?”

“With Autumn here, some days can get quite cold…” Quinn shrugged. He didn’t know if Remi was even looking at him, he remained focused on his own chopping board.

“I'm fine,” Remi said quickly. The sound of his knife joined Quinn’s again. “Thank you, Alpha.”

Despite Remi’s attempt to end the topic, Quinn had to be sure. “You'll let me know if you're uncomfortable, won't you?”

This time, Remi paused but didn’t answer. Quinn glanced down.

“Remi?”

Remi tilted his face up and nodded obediently.

Since he had come home early and not completed a full office day, Quinn felt obliged to go in on Tuesday. He gave Jordan and his manager the same vague excuse that his security system had flagged someone on his property but when he got back they were gone. They encouraged him to file a report with the police. He waved it off with a fake laugh, telling them he could handle himself - it was his cream carpets he didn’t want stepped on. They laughed, too, abated.

On the way home he took a detour. He told Remi he made a mistake and took the wrong exit. That he’d found himself in a shopping park and figured he might as well pick up some necessities while he was there. And then, as these things happen, he’d found some really lovely clothes: sweaters and trousers and a coat that looked so plush it could be used as a pillow. As sod’s law would have it, none of these beautiful finds were Quinn’s size. He couldn’t leave such nice clothes on the rack…

Even having picked out the smallest sizes available (and the friendly sales assistant had thoroughly checked the stock room for him) there was still some room to grow when Remi modelled the new clothes around the living room. Unaware that his beaming, awe-filled smile was helpfully blocking out the unaccounted spend in Quinn’s monthly budget. Jordan had rattled on about some article a few months back, and the joy that comes from spontaneity. Quinn could afford to be spontaneous once in a while, and when it made Remi this happy… any consequences seemed insignificant.

Remi reverted to his old, shabby clothes for their second attempt at painting class that same night, reasoning he wouldn’t be nearly as upset to get mess on them. He was surprisingly confident, given it had only been a week since that disastrous night. Quinn had hoped the new clothes would do that for him, but he wasn’t even wearing them.

In the car, they had a pep talk about mess. About the leisure centre being a space to express with mess. The same rules did not apply to Quinn’s house. That was a space to express appreciation for silence and order and self-care.

Settled and secure in their fresh ground rules of mess containment, they locked hands and headed back into the leisure centre.