Boone laughed and picked up his end of the heavy slab leaning against the wall. “Alright, witness protection, on three?”
Demarien crouched, gripping the other side. “Wait, are we lifting with our legs or what?”
Felix hip-checked him and took his place. “You three stand back. We lift with whatever works. One, two—”
“Rude,” Demarien muttered, scowling.
“—three.”
They lifted in a clumsy, uneven motion, the countertop wobbling slightly as they adjusted their grips.
Demarien and the others rushed to help, gripping the sides. “Oh my god, it’s heavier than it looked,” Demarien muttered, his arms trembling just a little.
“That’s what you said about my toolbox,” Felix shot back.
“That thing is full of mystery metal and emotional baggage,” Puck said, groaning.
They shuffled forward together, steps slow and awkward. Demarien bit his lip in concentration.
“Left. Left—no, your other left,” Felix said quickly.
“We only have two options, Puck,” Milo snickered. “Pick the correct one.”
They bumped lightly into the cabinet edge with a soft thunk, and everyone froze. Silence stretched. They looked at each other.
“Did it chip?” Demarien whispered.
“I don’t think so,” Boone answered, grin wavering. “It’s wood, not marble.”
“Don’t think or don’t know?” Milo asked.
“Don’t emotionally feel like it did.”
Felix let out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, okay. Tilt it, just a little. Yeah, like that.”
Carefully, they lowered the slab into place. It landed with a solid, satisfying thud.
They all stayed there for a second, hands still resting on the surface, as if it might disappear if they let go too soon.
Then Demarien straightened, stepping back.
It fit perfectly.
Milo’s face lit up. “Wait. That actually worked.”
Puck blinked at it, then at them. “We didn’t ruin it.”
“We didn’t ruin it!” Felix echoed, breaking into a grin and raising his arms above his head in victory.
Without thinking, Demarien threw his arms around Boone. He let out a small “oof” but wrapped his arms around him in return, laughing into Demarien’s shoulder.
“We’re basically professionals now,” Milo said, smug.
“Oh, absolutely,” Felix agreed dryly. “Next step, we start a renovation show.”
Puck snorted. “Yeah, episode one: ‘How Not to Panic While Holding Something Very Heavy and Expensive.’”
Demarien ignored them and pulled back from Boone, still smiling, his hands resting lightly on the alpha’s chest. For a moment, the jokes faded, replaced by something quieter.
