Chapter Text
Tommy wakes up with his face in the pillow and the stuffiest nose in the world. Heaving himself out of bed, he tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, as he scrunches up his nose and tries to breathe through the thick smog that seems to be coating his room, like wet hay left out in the sun. He doesn’t like it. He goes so far as to reach for the pack of tissues on the floor by his bed, blowing his nose a few times to see if he could finally get some clean air into his nose, but it’s no use.
Hopping out of bed, the 10 year old makes his way to his bedroom door, head feeling fuzzy and bones seeming to ache with each step. He scowls as he walks down the hall, bitter at the possibility that he could be sick, right at the start of summer. This sucks.
Entering the kitchen, he’s not surprised that he’s the last one awake. Phil is standing by the kettle as it boils loudly, Techno and Will sitting at the counter and talking in their rumbly, newly-awake voices while Phil scrolls through his communicator. What does surprise him, though, is when Wilbur seems to freeze, sniffing the air, before turning to Tommy with his eyebrows so high they disappear into his fringe.
“Well, I’m not surprised.”
Tommy glares, too tired and grumpy to be polite. “Wot.”
Techno and Phil seem to have smelled it too, whatever it is, and Techno has a small smile on his face that looks vaguely proud, and Phil is grinning, wide and toothy.
“Well,” Techno says, “guess we have to immediately fight for dominance.”
Tommy continues squinting in confusion, and can’t help but repeat himself. “Wot.”
“There’s no better way to start your morning than by throwing hands with a child, Tommy, have I taught you nothing-”
Phil clamps a hand over Techno’s mouth, chuckling as he looks at Tommy with a fond smile.
“You sure you don’t notice anything different, Toms?”
The youngest sniffs, rubbing his nose as he continues to smell nothing but cloying, wet hay, drowning out the comforting smells of his home and his pack.
“Think ‘m sick,” he grunts, making his way across the kitchen until he’s leaning on Phil, already tall enough to rest his head on his bicep.
All three of them are laughing now, and Tommy feels irritation swirl in his chest, and wrinkles his nose as the smell seems to grow sour in tandem, only pissing him off more.
“Why are you laughing at me, I‘m probably dying,” he whines, as Phil muffles his laughing-coughing fit into the crook of his elbow, the other arm coming round to hug Tommy close to his chest.
“Aw, bless your soul, Tommy, let’s see if we can roll it back with the scent here-”
“What scent, I haven’t even presented yet-” and when all three burst out laughing again, that’s when it finally clicks.
Leaping out of the omega’s side-hug, Tommy looks at his brothers with wide eyes and a grin so wide it hurts his face. “I presented!”
Wilbur seems to be struggling to breathe, though he manages to wheeze out “There it is!”
“What am I? What am I?” he demands, looking between all of them frantically as they all catch their breath from laughing.
Techno raises his arm and smiles at Tommy, proud and genuine. “Welcome to the club.”
“FUCK yes!”
Wilbur rolls his eyes with a huff, though the side of his mouth is quirked up. “Is anyone surprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
“It means you’re a walking stereotype, Tommy, did I stutter?”
“Ey!” Phil smacks the beta lightly on the back of the head, the other snorting a laugh. “Be nice.”
Techno looks at Tommy as this is all going on, his signature deadpan stare now firmly in place, though Tommy can see the amusement in his eyes.
“How did you not notice sooner, you’re stinking up the entire room.”
“I don’t know! It was so strong I thought there was like, literal hay somewhere, or my nose was broke or something.”
Wilbur nods his head in agreement. “Yeah dude, I don’t even remember Techno being this bad, and his scent was strong strong.”
“Well, I’m just stronger, because I’m the strongest man here,” Tommy says, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.
“Yeah right, pup.” Wilbur snorts, scruffing him and lifting him onto his breakfast stool to make a point.
“This is an abuse of power, and I resent it.” Tommy says, blinking away the reflexive sleepiness of being scruffed, while Wilbur moves his hand from the back of his neck to his shoulder, pulling him into his side and giving him a squeeze, which Tommy doesn’t resist.
“You may be an alpha now, but I’m pretty sure we all retain bullying rights on our baby brother” Phil smiles, picking up the kettle and pouring out three mugs of coffee and a tea for Tommy, each with varying amounts of milk and sugar.
“If you thought presenting would make us respect you any more, you were sorely mistaken, my friend.” Techno laughs.
“I don’t reckon this whole presenting thing is all it’s cracked up to be,” Tommy laments, accepting his milky, sugary monstrosity from Phil gratefully, as the oldest opens the bread bin and starts making toast.
Techno snorts, sipping his own coffee (only marginally less sweet than Tommy’s tea,) and asks, “Your bones hurt yet?”
“Yes! All of them! Why are they doing that?”
Phil wipes a hand down the front of his face wearily. “Ah, Christ, growth spurt time.”
“Eyyy!” Wilbur crows, “Big man Philza won’t be big for long!”
“There was a time when I was taller than all of you shits,” Phil points out, giving Wilbur a look.
“Yeah, when you were the only one alive.” Wilbur snorts, Techno letting out a monotone “Oooh,” and high-fiving him.
“I thought I raised you with manners,” Phil complains.
Techno snorts again, louder this time. “What gave you that impression?”
And that’s how breakfast goes, as always, the four of them bantering and sipping hot drinks over slightly-burned toast. Tommy thinks its a good way to start the day.
Picking up everyone’s plates, Techno moves to the sink and starts washing, while Phil excuses himself to get changed out of pyjamas and into his usual clothes. Wilbur turns and looks down at Tommy.
“It’s gonna be weird not smelling a pup in the house anymore,” he sighs, and Tommy can’t tell if he’s talking to him or himself, so he just shrugs.
“I get to scent you guys back now, though,” he grins, though part of him is sad that he won’t just smell like pack anymore, knowing his individual scent will be dominant from now on, rather than Phil’s fresh cut grass, or Techno’s mahogany, or even Wilbur’s quiet sage. He wonders, distantly, how his own fresh-cut wheat will mesh with them all.
“God, I can’t believe I’ll have to go out in public smelling like Tommy Innit,” Wilbur complains, laughing when Tommy hits his shoulder. “You smell like a farm!”
“And kind of nutty,” Techno adds idly. “It’s a good scent,” he decides out loud, and yeah, maybe Tommy preens a bit. It gives him the confidence to ask-
“Can I-” nope, the confidence is gone as soon as he opens his mouth, but he’s started it now so he may as well finish- “Can I, um, if you wanted to, can I,” he rubs his wrist self consciously, “scent you guys? Now?”
“Oh, Tommy,” Wilbur hops off his stool so he can stand over Tommy, face softening, before pulling him into a hug and pressing their necks together. “You don’t have to ask, idiot.”
And its so weird, Tommy thinks, as Wilbur lets him take the lead, burying his face in Tommy’s shoulder instead of the other way around, but the wolf part of him, which he now recognises as the alpha part of him, is delighted. And maybe he over-scents him a bit, but he’s new to this, okay, and Wilbur only chuckles and purrs, and Tommy does the same as Wilbur wraps his arms around him, rocking him side to side in his happiness.
“Baby’s first scent!” He whoops, chin now hooked over Tommy’s shoulder so his mouth is free, and Techno claps from the other side of the room. Drying his hands, he crosses back over, waiting patiently for the beta to let go and stop purring before taking his place, and its so different to scenting Wilbur, and Tommy wonders distantly if that’s an alpha thing he’s going to have to learn, or just Techno being Techno.
Instead of letting Tommy take the lead like Wilbur did, Techno still gently holds the back of Tommy’s head to guide him to the right spot, as he always has done, only this time he nestles his own face in Tommy’s shoulder, taking a single deep breath and rumbling quietly in satisfaction, while Tommy’s juvenile purring only grows louder. Unsure of weather this is a thing or not, Tommy gingerly lifts his own hand from where its wrapped around Techno’s back to place it on the back of the elder’s head, resting it there just enough for Techno to feel it.
Techno huffs in amusement, his entire chest moving with the air. “Unnecessary, but a nice touch,” he mumbles into Tommy’s pyjama shirt.
“Fuck you, I’m learning,” Tommy mumbles back.
“From the best,” Techno agrees, and Tommy was a little bit worried that it would be weird, now that there are two alphas in the pack, a notoriously hot-headed and territorial dynamic, but he thinks the part of him that worried about that forgot that the other alpha is Techno, his brother, who still has a drawing he made of him when he was six pinned on the wall above his bed, and who snuck him a practice sword a year before Phil let him officially start sword training. The more he thinks, the happier he gets, and he definitely over does it on the scenting again, but it’s fresh and murky and he’s starting to associate it with himself, so it’s okay.
Techno takes one last breath before pulling away, hand lingering on the back of Tommy’s head to ruffle his hair, before quickly turning to Wilbur and pulling the beta down into his own hug, their scenting quick and cursory, less momentous, but still warm and safe.
As his older brothers part and start to go about their days, Phil returns, now in his usual green shirt and pants, though smelling offensively bland after his shower, grass-scent barely present.
“Phil!” Tommy calls, opening his arms and wiggling his fingers to beckon the eldest over, “Lemme scent you.”
“God, you really are an alpha, aren’t you?” Phil laughs, clearly smelling Tommy thick in the air, satisfaction and love practically dripping from both Wilbur and Techno.
“C’mere” Phil murmurs, stepping towards Tommy and lifting him out of his chair with his hug, the strongest of his brothers despite being the second smallest.
And maybe scenting Phil hasn’t changed at all, Tommy thinks, as the calming omega scent fills Tommy with a deep-seated joy, the paternal note as strong as ever. Tommy wraps his arms around Phil’s neck tightly, burrowing his face into the familiar fabric of his shirt, before remembering that he’s supposed to be scenting Phil too, at which point he tries the gentle, hand-on-the-back-of-the-head approach he’s decided he quite likes, and like Techno, Phil lets out a quiet, amused breath before burying his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck.
Tommy thinks he’s getting better at scenting the right amount, because when Phil puts him down, he’s relieved to still smell Phil, and not just wheat in different flavours, so he grins, and Phil smiles back, pride clear in his eyes.
“Good job,” he tells him, and Tommy thinks his chest might burst from all this happiness.