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Jack had no idea a bakery could smell like this.
The scent had first caught his attention as he jogged by, trying a new route for his morning run. He'd managed to hold off on the temptation until he finished one last mile, then turned around and headed right back to this shop. He could smell it again half a block away, and by the time he actually entered he thought he might have to use his refined sugar allotment for the day, if not the week, right then and there.
The words Bitty Bakes were painted in a scrolling script in the front window. The store's name? A description? There were several full-sized pies in the display case, so it certainly wasn't a cafe that sold only itty-bitty baked goods.
He only had half a thought to spare for that mystery, though, because dear god the smell. There were the usual scents of a bakery-slash-coffee-shop: sugar, cinnamon, butter, chocolate, coffee, freshly-baked bread. But somehow this place had managed to concentrate all of that and amp it up by a factor of ten. And there was an undercurrent of something he couldn't place. It was sweet, and it blended in so well with the rest of the scents that it was like a word on the tip of his tongue, or a thought niggling at the back of his head. Some integral baking ingredient that Jack was sure he'd be able to identify if he ever did any baking of his own.
He realized that he'd gotten in line without conscious thought, and that he was now nearly to the counter. He needed to decide what he was going to order, and quickly.
Then the person in front of him stepped to the side, and on the other side of the counter was one of the most attractive men he'd ever met. Deep brown eyes, a strong jaw, biceps that were clearly used to kneading dough. Jack breathed in deeply, but there was nothing new mixed in with the bakery's already-incredible scents—the man was a beta.
Jack pushed down the tiny stab of disappointment, telling himself that it wasn't exactly a shock that this short, lithe man wasn't an alpha. Jack was one of only a handful of omegas in the NHL, and so far none of them were mated to alphas, but at least dating an alpha guy wouldn't require any further explanation. He wasn't exactly out as pan, so if he did want to date beta or omega guys he'd have to be careful about it. So far, he hadn't met anyone worth the risk. He'd only dated a handful of beta and omega women since rehab.
"What can I get you, sugar?"
Oh, no. Jack had just about managed to gather his wits enough to order, only to have them scattered again by this guy's honey-drenched accent.
"Uh." Jack blinked and shook his head a little. "I've… never been here before. What do you suggest?"
The guy's eyes quickly raked over his body, and Jack told himself that he was not being checked out. This beta probably wasn't even into men. Or maybe he only dated other betas. Or maybe he was married. Whatever the case, he was definitely just taking in the fact that Jack was still sweaty from a run and not appreciating the way he looked in his skin-tight running shirt.
"You look like you need some electrolytes—" See? Definitely just noticing that Jack had exercised. "—so maybe one of our banana-Nutella turnovers? And a Gatorade out of that case over there, no coffee for you, mister."
Jack laughed a little. "That sounds great. In fact, I'll take two of the turnovers."
Thankful that he brought a credit card with him for long runs, he paid and grabbed his Gatorade. When he got back to the counter, his pastries were waiting on a small plate and the hot blonde cashier was waiting on the next customer.
Jack got a seat where he could see the counter (not to stare in a creepy way, just to glance over now and then). The pastries smelled as good as the rest of the store, and tasted amazing. Plus, the filling was mostly mashed banana with some Nutella mixed in, so between the two pastries Jack thought he might be eating nearly a full banana. They were practically healthy.
The guy at the counter glanced Jack's way now and then, despite how busy he was. But the line of customers never got any shorter in the time it took Jack to eat his pastries, so when he got up to leave he just gave the guy a nod as he put his plate in the provided bin. He'd be coming back often enough; if the guy wanted to let Jack get to know him, there'd be plenty of chances.
"Why can't he just let me live," Bitty muttered to Lardo with a slight whine as Blue Eyes walked through the door. This was the fourth time the guy had shown up, and every time, Bitty wanted to just go in the back and pout over some pie crusts until he left.
Or put up a sign saying "We do not serve overly-attractive alphas in this establishment."
Or even just "Scent blockers not allowed on these premises" would work in a pinch.
When Blue Eyes had first walked in, Bitty had been hopeful. He wasn't generally interested in beta men, but one that looked like that? He could be persuaded to overlook the lack of omega pheromones for a beta like that.
Okay, he knew that in reality if he did go out on a couple dates with the guy, it wouldn't take long for him to start feeling like there was something missing—that romantic spark he's only ever been able to get from having a pheromone connection with another omega. But at least if he were a beta, Bitty could pretend. Maybe he could even flirt, if the guy seemed to be open to that sort of thing.
Instead, as soon as Blue Eyes had made it up to the cash register Bitty's nose had picked up the medicinal tang of scent blocker—and it had to be the really strong stuff, the stuff you can only get by prescription, if it hadn't melted off when the guy worked up that kind of a sweat.
He was an alpha.
Which meant that Bitty couldn't even afford to pretend.
It wasn't like Bitty thought he could avoid all contact with unmated alphas. Shit happens—a stranger on the subway might bump into him, he got distracted and didn't notice a customer's scent before handing them their coffee, he had no choice but to smile and shake hands with an alpha he was trying to secure a small business loan from. But in general, he did what he could to minimize it, because every time it did happen, he could hear his mama in his head, the exact patronizing tone she'd used when he told her he was gay.
"Well, that's fine and all for casual dating. But, Dicky, I just bet you've got a soulmate out there somewhere, and when you touch that alpha you'll see. You'll see those colors bloom and you'll realize that their scent is the only thing you'll ever want to smell again."
If he thought there was any chance she was right, that would be one thing. But he'd never met a single solitary alpha man, no matter how physically attractive, whose pheromones weren't an immediate turnoff. Anything he thought he might feel toward them before he could smell them, whether just physical attraction or a full-on crush, was just gone as soon as he smelled them—mated or not. He just was not attracted to alphas, any more than he was attracted to beta or omega women. If nature did play some cruel trick on him and gave him a soulmate, he doubted he'd magically realize that wow, he'd found the one alpha in the entire world he was attracted to. More likely, he'd just be left having to explain to a hormonal and possessive alpha why, despite the colors on their skin when they touched, they would not be mating. Then hoping he didn't get sued, beaten, stalked—or worse.
Which was why he'd been extra careful, so far, not to touch Blue Eyes at all while serving him. He knew that the fact that Blue Eyes was wearing scent blocker at all meant that he was probably a nice guy who wouldn't be looking to force an omega into a relationship. If he were the kind of alpha who would stalk an omega because he thought the omega should be "his," he'd be more likely to strut around making sure every omega in the area could catch his scent. Most alphas who wore scent blockers did it out of respect for omegas, a way of showing that they're more interested in getting to know an omega and having an actual relationship than in just finding someone who smells good and mating based on pheromones alone.
But still, Bitty wasn't big on taking chances. He wasn't willing to wear scent blockers himself anymore; he'd decided years ago that it was an alpha's responsibility to not be an asshole just because he smelled good, not his responsibility to put on a show of modesty so he wouldn't "tempt" them. But even if he expected alphas in general not to act like it was 1850 and they could carry away any omega they liked, soulmates were just different. Only about half of all alphas and omegas found their soulmate (you could argue all day about whether half had one, or if they all had one and only half found them), and refusing a soulmate bond was very rare. They were considered sacred in most religions, and most states still had laws on the books allowing either party to sue for compensation if their soulmate refused to mate. Even a nice alpha might not react well.
The fact that Blue Eyes paid by card helped; exchanging cash was by far the most common way that Bitty accidentally touched alphas, even if he'd gotten pretty good at avoiding it. And so far, since he always came in after a run, he'd never ordered coffee, so no possible handoff touching there. The biggest problem was the way a little part of Bitty's brain thought that maybe Blue Eyes was that one alpha who was hot enough that his pheromones couldn't counteract it, the part that tempted Bitty to flirt and "forget" not to touch him.
But he wasn't going to do that, so instead he just had to grit his teeth and pray that Blue Eyes would either stop coming in, or forget his scent blocker one day so that that little part of Bitty's brain would shut the hell up and he could treat him like every other unmated alpha customer.
Today, Lardo just smirked at Bitty and went back to pulling drinks as Blue Eyes joined the back of the line.
Jack tried as hard as he could to limit his visits to Bitty Bakes. He'd be there every day if he let himself, and that seemed excessive (he tried to tell himself that it was just his nutrition plan he was worried about, and not looking desperate to a certain southern blonde cashier). He started running a different route every other day, to avoid temptation, because he honestly wasn't sure he could smell that place and not stop in. He wasn't sure how anyone could—though they were busy enough that it didn't seem that many people did.
After three weeks of stopping in every other morning for pastries and Gatorade, he had come to two conclusions: 1) He wanted to try more of the food there than just the breakfast pastries. 2) He would never get to say anything more to the cashier than his order if he kept coming in right at their morning rush. Luckily, he could solve both of these problems at once. The downside was that coming in when he didn't just happen to be running past would open the door to coming in whenever he wanted which might lead to trying to live there. He somehow doubted that was the way to win over the cute blonde cashier, but at least he'd have that smell all the time.
Of course, practices had just started for the season, which made eating lunch there difficult. So his first non-breakfast attempt was at dinnertime.
The first thing he noticed when he walked in was that it didn't smell as good. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him—the baked goods were fresher in the morning. Not to mention much more plentiful; the display cases were nearly empty, and most of what was left was bread and sandwiches, not pastries. Unfortunately, the second thing he noticed was that a tall red-haired guy was manning the cash register. Neither the cute blonde, nor the tiny lady who usually made the coffee, was anywhere to be seen.
Jack fidgeted as he waited in line. Would it be stupid to ask? If the blonde guy never worked evenings, then honestly between that and the more subdued smells there wasn't much point. Not that he expected the food to be bad, but he couldn't let himself start eating every meal at this place and he'd rather eat there either when it smelled amazing or when there was some eye candy, if not both. But if the guy was just off that day, he might try again another evening. Maybe seeing him would cushion Jack's disappointment over the smells.
But he couldn't very well say "Hi, when does the cute guy work? I mostly eat here so I can look at him." There was only one more person between Jack and the counter, so he frantically tried to figure out how to ask.
He was so busy thinking about that that when the red-haired guy said "Hi, what can I get you?" he realized he hadn't given any thought to what he would order. He quickly looked at the premade sandwiches in the display case.
"Ah, the, uh, the one with the grilled chicken?"
He must not have sounded too stupid, since the red-haired guy, whom Jack could now tell was an alpha, just nodded solemnly and rang him up.
"I've never been here for dinner before," he ventured as he swiped his card. Maybe he could use this to segue into asking about the other cashier? Maybe? "I gotta say, the sandwiches don't smell as good as all those pastries in the morning."
The red-haired guy snorted. "You should tell Bitty that the next time you're in for breakfast. If it were up to him, this place would serve nothing but pastries and desserts, but he hasn't found a way to keep it profitable like that yet. He'll want to clone you so all his customers can think like that."
"Bitty?" Jack asked as the guy got his sandwich. He had yet to figure out what the "Bitty" in "Bitty Bakes" meant; it hadn't occurred to him that it might be someone's name.
"The owner—shortish blonde guy? Southern accent? He's usually on the register in the mornings, unless you get here real early when he's still in the back baking."
Jack's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, sure, I've seen him. I didn't realize he was the owner. He's only here in the mornings? Doesn't the owner need to—I have no idea, it just seems like there must be something the owner would need to do at closing."
"Nah." The guy slid Jack's sandwich across the counter to him. "We just count up the cash and clean everything up when we close. He and the other bakers get here at like 4:30 to get everything done for breakfast, so he's not gonna stay til nine every night."
"Huh," Jack said, surprised that he'd managed to get the information he wanted without sounding like a creepy stalker. He thanked the guy for his sandwich and went off to eat it, for once sitting facing the window instead of the counter.
It would still be hard to get in for lunch, but if he moved things around a little and came in on the way to work instead of after his run, maybe he could manage to miss the worst of the breakfast rush.
Bitty had assumed he was safe. It had been nearly a month of Blue Eyes torturing him every other day like clockwork—he would run past the cafe in one direction, then come back from the other direction fifteen minutes or so later, around seven, to eat. When the clock hit 7:15 and he hadn't seen Blue Eyes run past, let alone come back, he'd thought it just wasn't one of his running days, even though he hadn't been there the previous day, either. And Bitty was definitely not disappointed by that fact. No, he was relieved that he didn't have to avoid touching or flirting with the alpha. Relieved and not at all disappointed.
Okay, relieved and a tiny bit disappointed.
So he was shocked when the door opened at 8:30 and Blue Eyes walked in. He was still dressed for a workout, in athletic pants and a t-shirt, but it was dry of any sweat, as was his hair. Infuriatingly, he was even hotter freshly-showered. Even worse, it turned out he didn't just wear the extra-strength scent blocker for exercising. Which seemed a little odd—most people didn't need that kind of stuff unless they'd be working up a sweat. Maybe he was on his way to the gym because he'd skipped running.
There was only one person in front of him in line, so Bitty didn't have much time to prepare. Flustered, he completely neglected his policy of never saying more to Blue Eyes than was necessary to be polite and instead greeted him with, "Well, hello there, you're in a little later than usual today. Guess you don't need that Gatorade?"
And then what did that asshole do? He had the gall to blush. And look away. He looked shy. This big, hulking, ripped alpha was blushing over the fact that an omega noticed his routine. It was adorable. Bitty hated him. So. Much.
"Yeah, I, ah, thought I'd shake things up a little." He placed his order, with a black coffee this time instead of the Gatorade, then as Bitty was pulling out his pastries he leaned his elbows on the counter. "Actually, I came in a lot later yesterday."
Bitty's eyebrows shot up. "Oh yeah? Musta been after I got off, I guess."
"Yeah—you are… Bitty, right?" Blue Eyes asked slowly, like he was worried he might be embarrassing himself if the answer was no.
"That's me!" Bitty said brightly, setting the plate of pastries on the counter in front of Blue Eyes without letting their skin get anywhere near each other.
"I was told that I should tell you that I think it smells way better in here with all the fresh breakfast pastries than with the sandwiches in the evening. I mean—not that the sandwiches smell bad! Or taste bad, the grilled chicken was delicious—" Blue Eyes was clearly flustered, worried he was offending Bitty. Bitty couldn't help but smile, even if the fact that this guy was so endearing was the worst. "—it's just that it smells ridiculously good in here in the morning. And the, uh. The guy working last night said I should tell you, because if you had your way you'd get rid of the dinner sandwiches all together."
Bitty laughed. "It's true. I always thought opening my own business would mean I got to do things the way I wanted to do them, but it turns out you only get to keep your own business if you pay at least a little attention to what the customers are looking to spend their money on. Not that the pastries and pies and such don't sell well, mind you, but when it comes down to it, a city can support a lot more cafes than straight-up bakeries. What can you do? Not everyone has your impeccable taste, I'm afraid."
By then Lardo had finished the guy's coffee, and thankfully had handed it to him herself. But he didn't leave the counter just yet.
"I'm sorry, I have to ask," Blue Eyes said. "Bitty?"
Bitty rolled his eyes. "It's a nickname I got saddled with in college, and I figured I shouldn't pass up the alliteration. It's from my last name—my real name's Eric Bittle."
"I'm Jack," Blue Eyes said. Thankfully, he didn't try to shake Bitty's hand, because the way he was smiling right then might just have made Bitty forget himself and do it. "Nice to meet you."
Another customer had come up to the counter by then, so Bitty just gave Jack one last smile before going off to help her.
Over the next few weeks, stopping by the cafe before practice worked out much better for Jack. Honestly, the sweet pastries right after a run were a bit much for his stomach, even if they were delicious. They went down a lot easier after a shower and his usual protein shake. The cafe still smelled just as amazing, even though the supply of baked goods in the cases was somewhat depleted. And Bitty didn't seem to mind chatting a little when there weren't any other customers. Since it was right after the breakfast rush, he often went around and cleaned off tables and swept, giving Jack another chance to talk to him for a moment if he didn't get to at the counter. He tried not to keep Bitty from his work, obviously, but a word or two here and there about how good his breakfast was or how nice the new painting on the wall looked didn't seem to cross any boundaries.
He thought he caught Bitty looking at him now and then, but he couldn't be sure. It wasn't like Jack could ask him out anyhow; he'd heard Shitty's lecture against hitting on people who are just trying to do their job one too many times.
Jack blinked, realizing he'd been sitting there staring at Bitty at the counter for a good two minutes, thinking about how he could maybe find a way to run into him not at work in order to ask him out. He got up and put his dishes in the bin, shaking his head at himself—sure, Bitty was cute and funny and a great baker who owned his own business, but Jack didn't know him well enough for something like that. He couldn't just ask out some random beta guy; sure Bitty seemed nice, but what if he ran straight to the tabloids?
So what if he did? a little voice in the back of Jack's head piped up as he left the restaurant. If anyone could come out, it's you, and you know it.
He frowned as he walked back to his apartment to get his car. He couldn't really argue with the voice. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd thought about it. He wasn't just the best omega in the NHL; he was one of the best players, period, and he knew it. It had been years since commentators had even mentioned his presentation, because when you're regularly leading the league in points it's just not relevant anymore. Coming out as pansexual would certainly bring a whole new wave of criticism and scrutiny, but it wasn't anything he couldn't take. Just like he proved that being an omega didn't stop him from being the best, he'd prove that being queer didn't stop him, either.
But it was all moot, because he wasn't going to ask Bitty out at work no matter what.
Shitty came down to visit that weekend, and Jack knew he had to take him to Bitty Bakes.
"Fuck yes, you do," Shitty said when Jack suggested it. "You've been talking this place up for weeks, brah. I'd be offended if you tried to keep it all to yourself!"
Jack watched for Shitty's reaction as they walked through the door, but Shitty just looked around, face open and curious.
"Doesn't it smell incredible in here?" Jack asked in a low voice as they got in line. "I've never smelled anything like it."
Shitty took a few deep sniffs, which struck Jack as odd because how did the smell not knock him over as soon as they walked in? It wasn't exactly subtle.
"Yeah, man," Shitty said, nodding. "Smells great. Nothin' like the smell of fresh-baked pastries and coffee in the morning, huh?"
Jack nodded along and tried not to let his disappointment show. Shitty didn't seem like he was lying, but he clearly wasn't as impressed as Jack had been his first time walking in. And coffee? Jack hardly even noticed the coffee under all the other amazing scents.
As they approached the counter, Jack decided to chalk it up to Shitty being a beta. Sure, supposedly their sense of smell was fine for anything besides pheromones, but most people didn't believe it could really be as good as an alpha or omega's. He decided to ignore Shitty's less-than-exuberant reaction and focus on not letting on how bad a crush he had on the man working the register; he'd never live it down if Shitty figured that out.
"Hey, Bitty," Jack said as they stepped up to the counter.
"Well, look at you," Bitty said, eyes sweeping over Jack's frame in a way that he sincerely hoped was not making him blush. "I'm not sure you've ever come in here not dressed for a workout. And who's your friend?"
"Oh, haha, yeah," Jack said, looking down at his flannel shirt and jeans. "I usually stop by on my way to practice. Day off for once. This is Shitty—he lives up in Boston, and I've been telling him how great this place is."
"Damn right he has," Shitty took over. "Makin' me jealous as fuck; the best pastries I've got in my neighborhood is Dunkin'. I gotta try one of those banana-Nutella things Jack's been drooling over. On him, of course."
While Shitty was talking, Jack was watching Bitty. Trying not to stare, but probably staring anyhow. But even if he was, Bitty probably didn't notice, because he, in turn, was watching Shitty with a perplexed look. Which wasn't that unique a reaction to Shitty, but Shitty hadn't even said anything strange, so Jack wasn't sure what was making so many odd expressions flicker across Bitty's face.
"Well, I'm awful glad to hear you've been talking us up," Bitty said, flashing Jack a quick smile. Then he stuck out a hand to Shitty. "It's nice to meet you; I hope the turnover doesn't disappoint."
As Shitty shook Bitty's hand, a sour pang jolted Jack's stomach. Bitty had never shaken his hand. He wasn't sure they'd ever touched at all. Which was the stupidest thing to be jealous of—a handshake, it wasn't like Bitty was even flirting with Shitty! Jack bit the inside of his cheek and told himself to get it together.
"And how 'bout you, Jack?" Bitty asked as he ducked down to grab Shitty's turnover.
"Oh. I'll, um. I'll have one of those, too," Jack said. He didn't really have any idea what he wanted, but he didn't want either of them to notice how distracted he was. "To go, please." He doubted he could eat there and not give himself away, which would mean getting chirped into oblivion.
"So, practice?" Bitty asked as he set the bag with their turnovers on the counter and went to ring them up. "What sort of practice are you usually on your way to?"
"Oh, um." Damn it. He'd managed to go two months without having to mention he was famous. "I play hockey."
Shitty snorted at his humility, but to Jack's relief didn't butt in trying to show off his BFF's record to a random stranger.
Bitty looked up from the register and paused. "Like, professionally?"
"Uh, yeah. For the Falconers." Jack shrugged, hoping Bitty wouldn't make a big deal out of it.
"Cool!" was all Bitty said about it, thankfully. "I don't follow sports all that closely, but I used to figure skate so I certainly understand the drive to get out on the ice. Let's see, that'll be $7.82."
To Jack's disappointment, and his annoyance at his disappointment because what was wrong with him, Bitty's fingers didn't so much as brush his as he paid.
Bitty finally let his consternation show on his face as he watched Jack and his friend leave.
Theoretically, of course, it wasn't impossible that he could find an omega's scent that intoxicating yet not be the least bit attracted to the man physically. It was just weird. It had never happened to him before. And Jack's friend—whose name Bitty was glad he hadn't had to say out loud while they were there, because he wasn't sure he could call a man Shitty with a straight face—didn't seem the least bit interested in him, either.
The moment the two had walked in the door, the smell had hit him. He'd been baffled when he looked up and realized that it was Jack who had just brought that smell in. He had to admit, a tiny and entirely misplaced flash of hope had shot through him—until he saw that Jack had brought a friend. A friend who seemed perfectly nice and all, but was not Bitty's type in the least, no matter how good he might smell. Why couldn't Jack bring in a friend who looked exactly like him, but was also an omega who smelled like that?
And who maybe looked at Bitty the way he couldn't deny anymore that Jack looked at him. He tried not to stare when Jack was in the store, but it was hard when Jack himself did his share of staring.
But Jack was a dang alpha—not just any alpha, apparently a professional hockey player! Bitty was surprised that that kind of guy would show interest in a man, even an omega man—the Southern Baptists didn't see it as an unforgivable sin for an alpha man and an omega man to be together, but there were a lot of macho alphas out there who thought it was just a little too close to gay for comfort. If he'd had to guess, Bitty would have assumed that most alpha NHL players would fall into that category, but he guessed there must be a few who were different.
Not different enough for him, sadly. Bitty realized as he restocked the muffins that he'd been too distracted by Shitty to pay attention to how Jack smelled, for once. Which was unfortunate timing, because if Jack wasn't on his way to an athletic practice then he might not have been wearing scent blocker, and maybe Bitty could've gotten a lungful of his actual alpha scent and and gotten over him for once and for all. And for once he hadn't hung around, just grabbed his food and left. Shitty's scent was already fading; if Jack's scent had lingered at all, it was long gone.
Maybe, Bitty's traitorous mind suggested, if Jack's scent is so faint you didn't notice it, it wouldn't be strong enough to turn you off on a date.
"Yeah, right," he grumbled under his breath, then plastered a smile onto his face as the next customer walked in. He doubted anything less than Shitty's incredible aroma could have kept him from noticing Jack's scent. Next time he saw Jack in street clothes, he'd keep his nose open.
He spent the rest of his shift trying not to think about how sweet it was that Jack had been talking up the bakery to his friends.
Jack had been frequenting Bitty Bakes for three months when it finally happened.
Jack had tried flirting more heavily with Bitty a few times. Bitty's responses had only been confusing—he'd smile and blush and sometimes even flirt back, but then it was like he'd catch himself. He'd stop abruptly, even in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly switch to a polite customer service smile and voice that he didn't usually use with Jack anymore.
Jack was pretty sure that Bitty liked him, but didn't want to flirt on the job. He still wasn't sure how to get a chance to talk to Bitty anywhere else, so he'd decided to back off the flirting for the moment. If Bitty wanted to hang out when he wasn't on the clock, nothing was stopping him from asking Jack to do so. Until and unless he did, Jack decided to be friendly but cool it with the overt flirting for a bit.
But the flirting, it turned out, didn't really matter either way.
It was just like any other day—Jack ordered some juice and one of the fresh-baked energy bars Bitty had recently added to the morning menu (Jack told himself the addition had nothing to do with him), took the plate with the energy bar and stood off to the side while Bitty went to get some more juice from the back, since the case was out of the type Jack had wanted.
It was when Bitty held the bottle out that everything changed.
Jack reached out, and as his huge hand wrapped around the bottle, his thumb brushed against Bitty's.
And a burst of color—bright blues, pale aquas, and stark white—exploded from the point of contact. Jack's breath stuttered to a halt.
Bitty jerked his hand back like he'd been burnt, cradling the skin now covered in colorful swirls to his chest and staring at it as they slowly faded. Jack couldn't take his eyes off his own hand for a moment. It made no sense—Bitty was a beta, and betas didn't have soulmates. Then it clicked.
"It's you," Jack breathed. He looked up at Bitty in wide-eyed awe. "It's not the store that smells so good, it's you."
What he saw when he looked up, though, made his stomach drop. Sheer panic was etched in every line of Bitty's face.
"I'm sorry," Bitty stammered. "I'm so sorry. I'm not—we can't—oh God, I can't do this!"
He looked near tears, and every instinct inside of Jack wanted to hold him and make everything better.
"Hey, hey," Jack said softly. "It's okay. I'm startled, too, but it's okay. We don't have to run out and mate right this second or anything—"
"I don't like alphas!" Bitty blurted out, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Jack squinted at him, trying to figure out how that was relevant. "I'm sorry," Bitty said again as he took his hand away, "I'm just—I'm gay, Jack, I'm so gay, and you're gorgeous and sweet and wonderful but I've never once met an alpha whose scent I didn't hate! As soon as you wash off those scent blockers it's all gonna be ruined and I don't wanna lead you on or anything, oh dear God, please don't hate me—"
Jack tried to keep up as Bitty babbled on, but it took him a second to work out exactly what it was that Bitty was trying to say.
"You didn't Google me," he broke in.
Bitty broke off his stream of apologies immediately, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times in confusion. "…No?"
Jack couldn't keep the enormous grin off his face as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and Googled himself. "I mean, I'm not saying you should have, I'm not that conceited. I just kind of assume people know all about me because so many people do, and I know I told you I play for the Falconers… There."
He held up the phone for Bitty to see the article he'd pulled up, the first relevant one he'd run across. Jack Zimmermann Becomes First Omega to Win the Art Ross Trophy.
Bitty's mouth fell open and he reached out for the phone, not bothering to keep their hands from brushing as he took it from Jack. Jack watched, his heart swelling in his chest, as the look on Bitty's face went from fear to shock to disbelief and finally to a hesitant smile.
"You're an omega?" he asked quietly, gazing up into Jack's eyes and handing his phone back. "This whole time?"
"A lot longer than that," Jack couldn't help joking, and was gratified when it got a surprised laugh from Bitty. "I know, I know, I'm too tall, I'm too bulky. I was almost six feet when I presented and the doctors ran all sorts of hormonal tests, but in the end they just said, well, someone has to be at the end of the bell curve, eh?" He paused. "So—so you're an omega too, right? I didn't even know two omegas could be soulmates."
"Me neither," Bitty said, still sounding bewildered. He looked down at his hand, where a blue swirl still remained from handing Jack his phone. "But I guess you can't fake the colors. Wait—haven't you been able to smell me?"
"Sort of. I thought you were a beta," Jack explained. "I walked in here and I thought I'd never smelled anything like this bakery—but it was you I was smelling all along. But yeah, trust me—no alpha pheromones here. I can wash off the scent blockers if you want to know what I really smell like."
Bitty's eyes went wide again. "Your friend," he said, grabbing Jack's arm. Colors swirled and danced, and the heat of Bitty's palm seemed to sear itself into Jack's skin. "Shitty. Is he an omega?"
Jack frowned. "No, Shitty's a beta, why?"
"I'm such an idiot!" Bitty shook his head at himself, but his smile grew as he clung to Jack's arm. "That was you! You must not have had scent blockers that day, but I was so convinced you were an alpha that I thought your scent was coming from him! But—no offense to him or anything, but he is really not my type, so I was so confused! I'd never met anyone who smelled that good, but I'd also never met a guy who smelled good that I wasn't at all attracted to!"
"I'm not the least bit offended that you don't find my best friend attractive," Jack said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
"Oh my God, you two, leave before I hurl." Jack's head whipped around to see Lardo standing at the cash register, hands on her hips and the ghost of a smile on her face. "I just called Dex, Bits. He'll be here in fifteen; he said he can cover your shift today, and I'll come back to help with closing. We'll get you covered for the next couple days, too."
"You don't have to—"
"You are not coming back in here the day after you mate," Lardo said sternly. "Your head'll be in the clouds and you'll probably burn or drop everything you touch, even if you don't go into heat immediately. And if you do, well." She gave him a pointed look.
Bitty blushed a deep pink. "Well, we won't necessarily… I mean…"
"Like I said," Jack assured him, covering Bitty's hand on his arm with his own, "we don't have to mate right now if you don't want to."
"He wants to," Lardo said, deadpan. "Maybe not in the next five minutes, but he's been mooning over you for months now—"
"Lardo!" Bitty smacked her on the arm with the hand that wasn't attached to Jack. He didn't seem inclined to take that hand away.
"He's your soulmate, doofus," Lardo said. "It's not embarrassing to have a crush on your soulmate."
"I've been, ah, mooning over you, too," Jack admitted, though not without a teasing grin. "But I didn't want to ask you out while you were at work."
"Thoughtful of you," Bitty murmured, smiling shyly up at Jack.
"Leeeeeeeaaaave," Lardo said, pushing Bitty around the counter as a woman came up to the register. "Before your gross soulmate cooties scare the customers away."
"Aw," the woman said, hand to her heart. Her eyes went right to the colorful swirls where they were touching. "Did you two just find each other?"
"Basically," Jack said, gazing down at Bitty.
"That's so sweet!" she cooed. "You're so lucky!"
"Yeah," Bitty said quietly as he looked back up at Jack. "I think we are."
Thankfully, the woman left them alone after that. Jack wrapped an arm around Bitty's waist and pulled him off to one side, away from the counter.
"Let me call my bosses and let them know I won't be playing for a few days." Bitty started to protest, but Jack cut him off. "They have specific regulations about time off for mating when a player finds their soulmate. They wouldn't let me play if I wanted to, too much of an injury risk, and I might go into heat anyhow. My apartment isn't far from here—would you want to come over? We do need to talk; I'm famous, and my mating with an omega man is going to be news. I can't pretend like it won't get you any negative attention. If you decide you don't want to go through with it—"
"Jack, don't be ridiculous," Bitty said. He pressed closer so he could talk quietly, and through a valiant effort Jack refrained from bending down and nuzzling his throat. "Yes, we should talk. We should have a plan of some sort. But a little thing like paparazzi isn't gonna keep me away from you." He reached up and traced a finger over Jack's face. "Look at that." He moved his finger to trace down Jack's arm, where Jack could join him in watching the colors blossom and swirl. "Our colors are so beautiful, Jack. I've spent my life terrified of having a soulmate, but this? I can't be afraid of this." He looked back up, into Jack's eyes. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get out of here so you can wash off those scent blockers. We need to talk, but I better be able to smell you while we do."
Jack grinned and led him out the door. They set off down the street hand in hand, wintry tendrils climbing their arms for the world to see.