Scaramouche dug through your drawers, trying to find a sweatshirt that would be perfect for his nest. A soft cough makes him jump.

He turns, wide-eyed, and curls the shirt protectively into his chest. Shit. You, his alpha, were here.

You and Scaramouche were close, you were lovers after all. Scaramouche just didn't want you to realize he had been forming a nest in his room, something he would use during his upcoming heat.