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The silence that follows is long enough that fresh tears blur my vision.

“I want you to stay forever,” Matiu says, gravel in his voice, and a sob bubbles out of my throat at his words.

“Stay,” Scott echoes. “Of course I want you to stay here. How is that even a question?”

“We haven’t discussed it!”

“Well we’re discussing it now,” Scott says, his arms tightening around me. Matiu tilts my chin up, until my head is tipped back, and kisses me on the mouth.

“We want you to stay. This is the real deal, eh.”

The real deal. Maybe it’s not as romantic as saying I love you, but it feels the same to me.

“We can help you with the paperwork, emails, phone calls. Whatever’s needed, we’ll sort it. I didn’t realise you were stressing over this. We’re not mind readers, though we try to be,” Scott says.

“It just hit me tonight. I want to be organised and sort this all myself. I don’t want to feel like my own brain is sabotaging me, but it’s like there’s a wall physically stopping me from getting shit done.”

Matiu rubs my shoulders. “That’s okay, we’ll take care of it.”

“You guys don’t think I’m useless? You’re not bothered by the fact that I need help doing this stuff at the moment?”

“No. Helping is what you do for your partners when you’re in a relationship. If I broke my legs tomorrow, would you leave me stuck outside in a wheelchair, or would you find a way to make this place accessible?” Scott asks.

“I’d find a way to help you.”

“How is this any different?” he continues. “It’s not a moral failing on your part. It’s not laziness. You’re burnt out, you said so yourself last week, you were already burnt out from your old job, you were caring for your grandfather, you’re off your suppressants, you’ve had a lot going on, and you’re overwhelmed. We don’t mind helping. We’re happy to. We literally fill in paperwork for a living, make us your little admin bitches, you can domme us around with jobs to do⁠—”

I snort with laughter while Matiu mutters “What the fuck” under his breath.

“Am I sensing a fantasy from you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, you make everything sexy. I don’t think you realise how stunning you are, and just… good. Like sunshine in human form. I hate seeing you cry when there’s perfectly good solutions right here,” he adds, gesturing between himself and Matiu.

I lean my head against Scott’s shoulder.

“Thank you. Maybe the best solution would be for me to actually get a prescription for meds to help with the ADHD. I was too scared to, before.”

“Maybe,” Matiu says, planting another kiss, this time on my cheek, sighing against my skin. “We can help you cross that bridge when you’re ready for it, too.”

The weather was back to the usual summer sunshine today, and we’ve spent all evening outdoors, sitting at the picnic table on the deck, citronella candles burning to ward off mosquitos while we’ve worked on all of my admin together and snacked on a very girldinner meal of cheese, crackers, deli meats, and my latest NZ obsession, Pineapple Lumps candy.

“Done,” Scott announces, clicking Submit on the online Residency for Omegas of Alphas with New Zealand Citizenship form. Matiu had called his brother just after lunch, and I’d spent an hour talking to Īhaka about the different visa options available to me in a very ‘I’m doing this as a family member and none of this is legal advice, and I ought to advise you that you really should consult an independent lawyer who is not either of your boyfriends’ sort of way. Other than an extended travel visa, a working visa—problematic when I’m currently unemployed and unsure of what I want to do next—or a student visa—“That could be something to keep in mind, if you wanted to do some further study”—Īhaka had advised that my best option is to apply under the pack pathway to residency.

Do I like that the legal documentation and accompanying laws appear to tie my worth to alphas in a way that has weirdly outdated undertones? No. Am I going to participate in the system anyway because this is how I get to stay in this beautiful country with the men I love? Absolutely.

“Thank you,” I say, sighing and slumping over the outdoor table dramatically. “I feel so relieved. You guys don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“We’re a pack,” Matiu says quietly, lips curving in a small smile. “Officially, now that we’ve put it in writing. It’s what we do.”

“Yeah.”

I know they hear in my voice what I struggle to say out loud—that my former pack was never like this. I can’t be surprised when Scott clears his throat and asks softly, “What happened with your old pack?” though my gut lurches in that unsettled way.

I take a sip of my beer and grimace, setting it aside. I’ll tell them everything—I’d be a hypocrite, otherwise—but in this moment I’m not quite brave enough to meet either of their gazes, even with their sunglasses on. Instead I stare out at the horizon, lit orange with the setting sun.

“I’ve told you both that I don’t want kids. I’ve always known that. I don’t hate them at all, I think kids are often adorable and sweet, but I’ve spent enough time with my nieces and nephews to see how hard it’s been on my sister. Motherhood is not for me. I’m dead serious about that. Revealing as an omega caused enough change in my body… I don’t think I’ve actually explicitly told either of you that. I love that you both seem to love my boobs and my ass, but I didn’t look like this before I revealed as an omega. When the hormones hit it really was like a second puberty for me, and that was only four years ago. I’m still learning to love my body. I used to be a B cup! I didn’t have to wear a bra! Now if I don’t wear the right bra my back aches… I was already adamant on never having kids, but I’m even more so now because I don’t want to experience a pregnancy. Who the hell knows what my body might do then? It just feels like a nightmare, and I’m so supportive of people who want to have that. It’s just not for me.”

“You know we’re on the same page,” Matiu says. “No one is telling you that you need to have kids.”