"Do you ever stop?"

Cain ducked just in time as a throw pillow flew past his head and hit the wall with a soft thud. He sighed—deep, long, and suffering—the kind that said: I didn't sign up for this but I'm definitely going to be the one putting this apartment back together.

Just because they were called throw pillows didn’t mean they had to be used literally. Especially not at him.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, watching the chaotic storm that was his partner tearing laps around their shared apartment. Blurred limbs, half-shifted claws, and a grin that showed just a bit too much fang. The living room looked like it had been the battleground of a minor war.

One lamp had gone down, the rug was bunched up like it had tried to escape, and Cain was pretty sure he heard something crash in the kitchen and he honestly didn't want to know what it was.

Zoomies, the humans called it. That sudden, inexplicable burst of wild energy animals sometimes got—and werewolves were no exception. Especially not his werewolf.

As annoying as the destruction was, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. It was honestly kind of cute. His partner’s eyes sparkled with exhilaration, their excitement utterly uncontainable every time they skidded around a corner or jumped over a piece of furniture.

Cain watched for another moment, lips twitching upward despite himself. Then, with a quiet grunt, he pushed off the doorframe.

He caught them mid-sprint with practised ease, arms wrapping around their waist and lifting them clean off the ground in one smooth motion.

"Alright," Cain said with an exaggerated huff. "Before you break the whole damn house down."