Mates (ON HOLD)

53. 'theres no one else in the world...'

A/N: Missed you <3

Let's all just acknowledge how much of a first draft this is and get on with it, yeah?

Enjoy ;)

>>>>>>

C H A P T E R  F I F T Y-T H R E E:
'there's no one else in the world...'

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M A T C H E S

"Mom, how many bookshelves do you really need?" Tyler complained from the couch, his head buried in his laptop, body laid out.

Mom kicked his leg as she walked by, "A lot, I've got a lot of books." She hands me the screwdriver, "Thanks, honey. At least you're helping me."

"No problem, ma." I mumble, screwing a screw into place, my concentration entirely on the complicated guide in my lap.

"This ones new, the nice IKEA man said it was the sturdiest one they had." Mom stared at the parts beneath my hands, "Makes me wonder if I bought the right ones before."

"The way you talk about the IKEA guy makes me think I've gotta make bookshelves to get you're attention." Dad calls from the kitchen, his hands occupied with tonight's dinner. Smells like chicken and biscuits from in the living room.

John laughs heartily, looking to Willa, "Sounds like Will talking about you're cooking, David."

"What can I say?" My dad shrugs, ruffling Willa's hair with the oven mit, her hands hurriedly slapping it away, "I'm a genius in the kitchen."

She scowls at him, her eyes finally tearing away from the text book in front of her, "I get bullied so much by you two peas in a pod, goddess."

"Willamena-" my mother scolds from her stance above me, trying to decipher the tools in front of me, a cup of tea in her hand.

"Sorry, sorry." She rolls her eyes.

Mom points to the plank currently in my lap, "Is that supposed to be the shelf?"

My hand pauses in the screwing, cocking my head, trying to figure out if it was, "Um... probably?"

Tyler laughs from the couch, his hands still working across his game on his iPad, "It can't be that hard, Matt. It's a shelf."

With a groan, I push the plank from my lap, "If you think it's so easy, do it yourself, asshole."

My mom slaps my shoulder, looking through the instructions, "Language."

He winces, unmoving, "Testy."

"Be nice, Ty." Svetlana chastises from the opposite couch, her attention stolen away from Liv, who sits with knitting needles in his hands, his gaze confused.

"I don't get it." He tells her, the yarn between the needles looking like a knotted mess.

I look up from my brother, watching his mate try to explain knitting to mine. It's unsightly, for sure, and Liv looks so out of place with the ten inch needles in his grasp. But when his cheeks flush in embarrassment when she fixes the problem easily, I smile.

The whole family dinner thing was a surprise, my mother calling me out to help build her bookshelf led to her insisting I bring Livator with me. After a quick shower after training, I pulled Liv from his complaints about his aching muscles from his 'unbelievably obscene' training and dragged him along with me. John and Svetlana, Willa and Tyler's mates, were there, along with my brother and sister who made quick business of putting me to work and Liv to hanging out. Somehow Svetlana and my mom started talking about how men never knit and forced a pair of needles into Tyler and Liv's hands. Tyler was quick to give up, and, although he persevered for a while, Liv broke and gave up, too.