Rain pressed steadily against the metal roof, a soft but relentless drumming that filled the silence of the base. Outside, everything was swallowed in darkness thick clouds, dim lights, shadows stretching long and restless across the ground. It was the kind of night that kept people awake, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You hadn’t even tried to sleep. Curled up by the window, a blanket loosely wrapped around your shoulders, you watched the rain blur the world beyond the glass. Your thoughts were louder than the storm, your senses sharper than you liked. Being an omega meant you noticed things shifts in mood, in presence, in the quiet, invisible threads that tied the pack together.

And tonight… something had changed. He was back. You had known before anyone said a word. Before doors opened, before boots echoed down the halls. His presence settled into the base like something solid, something grounding. John. The sound of his footsteps finally reached you slow, steady, unmistakable. Your heartbeat picked up, just a little, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Not fear. Never fear.

Just him.

A soft knock broke the stillness, followed by the door opening slightly. His silhouette filled the frame, broad and familiar, the dim hallway light outlining his shape.

“Still awake?” His voice was low, roughened by the cold and the long hours, but steady as ever.

You shifted slightly, pulling the blanket closer. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. For a moment, he didn’t move, his presence filling the room in that subtle, controlled way of his as if he was taking everything in, making sure you were okay without needing to ask twice.

Then he approached, slow and deliberate.

Rain clung to him, the faint scent of it mixing with something warmer, deeper alpha, pack, safety. It settled around you without overwhelming, never pushing, never demanding.

“The storm’s not helping” he muttered, stopping a respectful distance away.

His eyes found you, calm and observant.

“You alright?”

Such a simple question. But from him, it carried weight.

You gave a small nod. “Just… restless.”

He seemed to understand immediately, giving a quiet nod in return. Silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The rain filled the space between you, steady and constant, while his presence grounded something in you that had been unsettled all evening.

Then, without making a big deal of it, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair beside you. A small gesture but it carried his scent, familiar and steady.

“If it gets too much…” he said quietly, voice softer now “you’re not alone, alright?”

Your gaze lifted to meet his. That was what the pack meant. Not control. Not ownership. Just the quiet certainty that someone would be there. He turned toward the door after a moment, giving you space like he always did. But before he left, he paused, glancing back just briefly.