Page 111 of Knotting the Firefighters
Which means?—
My head lifts with sudden realization, perspective shifting as the "comfortable chair" revelation completes itself.
Not furniture.
Alpha.
I'm sleeping on Alpha.
Bear's face comes into focus—peaceful expression unmarred by consciousness, features relaxed in sleep, soft snores escaping with each exhale. His chest rises and falls beneath me with a steady rhythm, one arm draped across my back in a loose embrace, the other resting on the chair's armrest.
When did I end up in his lap?
How long have I been using him as a personal mattress?
Does he mind being repurposed as furniture?
The questions cycle without answers, confusion mixing with appreciation for his apparent willingness to serve as my unconscious perch.
He's beautiful when he sleeps.
The observation arrives with clinical detachment, an objective assessment of aesthetics without romantic implication. Because when Bear is asleep, he lacks the animation that defines his waking personality—the ready smile, the warm laughter, the particular energy that makes him feel approachable despite his intimidating size.
Peaceful.
He looks genuinely peaceful.
Like the world holds no threats, no concerns, nothing requiring his intervention.
I watch him for several heartbeats, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest, the subtle movements of his eyes beneath closed lids suggesting dreams, the complete vulnerability of deep sleep.
Is it normal to watch Alphas sleep?
To find their unconsciousness this fascinating?
To feel protective over someone three times my size who could probably break me without effort?
The instinct feels backwards—Omegas shouldn't protect Alphas, shouldn't feel compelled to guard sleeping pack members, and most certainly shouldn't experience this overwhelming urge to ensure his rest continues undisturbed.
But here we are.
Watching over a sleeping teddy bear like I'm a sentinel rather than the one needing protection.
I lean back down carefully, resting my head against his chest, where I can hear his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. The position feels natural, right in ways I can't articulate, like my body recognizes this as where I belong even if my mind hasn't caught up.
So comfortable.
Dangerously.
The kind of comfort that makes you forget why independence matters, maintaining distance is self-preservation, and why letting yourself need someone inevitably leads to devastation when they leave.
The thoughts spiral as consciousness fully returns, bringing with it memories and realizations I'd been too exhausted to process earlier.
Temporary pack arrangement.
Three months with Aidric, Silas, Bear.
And Calder.
