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Sidney’s heats come and go as they please. It’s always been that way. It’s how he got his diagnosis, the one that is basically a nice way of saying that he’s very fucked up and should be ashamed of it. It’s bad enough being an omega who plays hockey. Being an omega who plays hockey that doesn’t even biologically function correctly is even worse, and it’s why no one can know about his heat problem. It’s getting harder to keep it a secret, though. The whole uncontrollable crying is kind of hard to hide.
The first inkling that a heat is coming on is an overall sense of something wrong, like a prickling at the back of his neck. The tears come next almost always. There have been a few lucky times they haven’t, but those are the exception. It’s not like normal crying, either. It just wells up and flows down his cheeks. It usually starts without any sobbing or sniffling, just tears that stream down his face with no end in sight. He can’t make it stop no matter how hard he tries, and he’s definitely tried just about anything over the years. It’s kind of hard to play hockey when your eyes are so filled with tears that it’s nearly impossible to see through the liquidy blur.
He’s read just about every piece of literature there is on relieving the symptoms that come along with Atypical Heat Disorder, but the only thing people seem to claim helps is being around their mate. Sidney doesn’t have a mate and doesn’t see himself having one until hockey is over. Even if he could find someone during his career, the whole fucked up heat disorder thing is probably going to be a deal breaker. No alpha is going to want an omega who doesn’t want sex during heat and cries the whole time. Sidney likes sex outside of heat but heat brings on this completely sex averse side of him that is apparently another symptom of AHD. All he really wants during heat is a hug that last unreasonably long, like, about as long as the heat itself. And sleep. That’s not exactly a turn on for any well-adjusted alpha.
There’s a difference between going through a normal heat alone and going through one of his, because normal omegas can just jerk off a bunch and relieve some of the pressure. Sidney just cries and is miserable and hopeless for days. He has to bite his hands to keep from letting out these heartbreakingly pitiful purrs, the sounds of an omega in distress. He always loses himself a little to the simple emotion of want, want for his “true mate” or whatever to appear and take care of him and make everything better. The pathetic whimpering purrs aren’t something he can let his teammates or the Lemieux family hear. The team always ask about the angry red bite marks littering his hands during his first practice back from his heat leave, but all Sidney can do is force a grin and make some sexual joke about an alpha heat partner he just had that makes him feel sick.
The team can smell his heat coming on. They make jokes and jeer and offer up their bodies for Sidney’s use. Sidney always forces a smirk through it all, trying his best to let it all roll off of his shoulders as much as possible rather than lashing out like the roiling in his stomach makes him want to do. He’s hated the idea of heat ever since he was a kid, before he even presented as an omega. The idea of being stuck in such a state for upwards of five days where his body demands nothing but incessant sex against his will terrified him. He’d been having sex forced on him for years at that point which was the whole reason he had a fucked up heat disorder in the first place, but the idea that his own body would betray him like that as well was a different kind of terror. He’d been so relieved when his first heat hit and he didn’t want sex until he realized that that was a bad thing, an unnatural thing, and that he’d probably be alone forever because of it. His dad didn’t even try to hide how pleased he was with the diagnosis, though. No insatiable desire for sex meant hockey would be easier. This doesn’t feel like easier.
Sidney’s been lucky up to this point. No onset of preheat symptoms have happened around the team for his entire rookie year so far. Luck always runs out, though. This is probably the worst place for it to happen, though.
The team is on a weeklong road trip through the western swing of NHL teams. They’ve only played one team and have another game tonight. He’s a long way from home where his familiar nest of blankets and pain medications live. There’s no prickling at the back of his neck to warn him this time. Instead, he’s on the ice during practice at Anaheim’s rink when he feels tears suddenly well up. He doesn’t have any time to react before they’re spilling over and running down his cheeks.
He freezes up momentarily, shocked about what’s happening, before he’s abandoning his spot in the middle of a drill and making his way directly to the bench and then down the tunnel. A trainer follows closely after him like a mother hen, clucking about what’s wrong and where the injury is. Sidney ignores the poor guy completely, heading for the locker room as he wipes viciously at his face. The assistant trainer doesn’t follow him to his stall, instead splitting off to the trainer’s room. Sidney thinks they’re going to leave him alone until Stewie appears a few minutes later while Sidney is tugging weakly at his shinguards. He needs to get out of all of his gear and out of this building before the team comes off the ice at the end of practice, which is nearing quicker than he’d like.
“What’s going on?” he asks. Sidney keeps his head ducked down so the man doesn’t see the incessant tears that are continuing to inch down his face. He’s reminded that Stewie is a beta. The head trainer can’t smell that Sidney is in preheat. “Did you pull something?”
“No, didn’t pull anything,” Sid says, the sentence clipped with less words than he’d normally use. Abnormal for him. Hard to not notice.
“Then what’s the problem, Sid?” he asks, his tone the same easy going one he normally uses. He’s not angry, just concerned. The overly emotional omega part of him that always rears its ugly head when his heat rolls around is practically preening with the attention. “You’ve got Steven in there all freaked out.”
“Heat,” Sidney grumbles out, tugging his hockey socks down off of his shinguards. He moves on to his jock, making quick work of pulling it off and hanging it up in his stall.
“Heat?” Stewie echoes. “You just had one a month ago.”
Sidney nods, trying not to act as hysterical as he’s starting to feel because Stewie’s right: if Sidney was normal he wouldn’t be having another heat so soon and freaking everyone out.
“That’s not normal, Sid. Do I need to make an appointment with your OS?” Sidney’s OS, or omega specialist, is one that the team retains for the omegas on their team, aka only Sidney as of right now. Omegas in the NHL are still really rare. Sidney is only one omega out of three others in the league right now. He’s never even met the team appointed OS because he has one at home in Nova Scotia. She specializes in AHD and is the only OS Sidney sees. There is still a stigma around AHD, even in the medical world. Most OS’s don’t treat omegas with AHD very well.
“No, this is normal for me,” Sidney replies. “I have my own OS.”
“You don’t see the team OS?”
“No.” Sidney turns around to unhook his sweater from his stall so he can get dressed and get the hell out of there. Stewie makes a weird noise and he turns back around. He’s staring at Sidney’s face.
“Why are you crying?”
“Just happens,” Sidney says.
“It just happens?” Stewie repeats, disbelieving.
“I’ve got that thing,” Sidney says, turning around again to pull his jacket on over his sweater. “The fucked up heat disorder thing.”
“The what?”
“Atypical Heat Disorder,” Sidney mutters, pulling a toque over his disgustingly sweaty hair. “I’m not going to explain it to you, just google it. I have to get out of here before the team comes in.”
Stewie stares and Sidney shoves his feet into his shoes, unsure of what to say.
“I’d appreciate if we kept this information between the two of us only,” Sidney continues.
“Of—of course, Sid, no problem,” Stewie agrees. “I’ll look into it. Is there anything you’re going to need? An alpha service, or…” he trails off.
Sidney lets out a humorless little laugh.
“No, nothing like that. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Stew.” Sidney stands, stuffs his cell phone into his pocket, and forces himself to walk out of the locker room before he does something crazy like beg a hug off of his head trainer.
The driver of the car Sidney calls keeps sneaking glances back at him using the rearview mirror the entire drive to the team’s hotel. Sidney pulls his hat down lower over his forehead and stares resolutely out the window, using his sweater sleeve to wipe the tears that are still leaking out of his eyes every couple of minutes.
He calls down to the lobby to ask for extra blankets and pillows when he gets to the hotel room he shares with Army. He waits until they’re delivered to raid the vending machine down the hall of water bottles. Sidney doesn’t get any food or snacks because he knows he won’t eat any of it. His appetite completely disappears for however long his heat lasts, which can be concerning when his heat lasts for more than two days, but even the thought of eating during this time can be enough to make him throw up.
He arranges his nest on the bed closest to the door after pushing it all the way up against the wall. Army always take the bed closest to the door but Sidney’s head gets all jumbled up when he’s in heat. He needs to be as covered and hidden away as possible during his heats, and the wall he’s pushed the bed against is the best way to achieve this. The extra blankets form a little wall at the foot and exposed side of the bed, like the lip of a real nest. It’s cozy and safe. Logically Sidney knows that a pile of blankets isn’t going to keep him safe from anything, but his heat brain doesn’t know any better.
He takes a shower next. The tears keep flowing and he starts to feel them, sniffling and whimpering as the hopelessness that always hits around this time sets in. Knowing there’s no alpha to hold him and keep him safe and lay with him in his nest brings on this gut deep hopelessness that’s impossible to ignore.
Sidney has no idea what he’s going to do when Army gets back from practice for his pregame nap. His last heat was a month ago in January and he was at home when his preheat symptoms set in so he had had nothing to worry about. The other one he’d had earlier in the season was in November during the short American Thanksgiving break they had and nobody on the team, not even the training staff, had had to know about it.
Sidney is curled into a ball under multiple blankets when he hears the lock disengage on the hotel room door and Army step inside. He had turned up the heat before getting into bed but he’s still cold as the fever that’s always brought on by his heat rages through him.
“Jesus, Sid, why’s it so fucking hot in here?” Army grumbles, dropping his backpack onto the floor near the door with a dull thud.
“Sorry,” Sidney mumbles. The word is a little slurred.
“Did you build a nest in my bed?” he says, his voice sounding closer than before. Sidney pulls his head out from under the many blankets piled on top of him just enough to see him. He’s standing at the foot of the bed looking annoyed and confused.
“Is this…you smell like heat right now. Is that why you practically ran out of practice?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you just had one last month,” he says, kicking off his shoes and flopping back onto the bed Sidney had initially claimed when they got to the hotel. “Isn’t this, like, not normal?”
Sidney pulls the blankets back over his head and bites down on his hand to stop from whimpering at the sound of his best friend saying what he’s saying.
“Normal for me,” Sidney mumbles back. He cringes at the sound of his voice, because it’s obvious that he’s been crying.
“Are you crying?” Army says, his joking tone being replaced by something more serious. “Sid, what’s going on?”
“Just heat.”
“Sid, this doesn’t seem like just heat,” Army insists.
“It is,” he insists, curling back up on his side.
Sidney can practically hear Army hesitating. There’s movement and Army sounds even closer the next time he speaks.
“Do you need anything?” the older player asks. “Food or more blankets or…I could stay with you, or grab one of the guys from the team, whoever you want.”
“No team,” Sidney says. “No guy. No one.”
“Okay, Sid. Can I call your alpha?”
“No,” Sidney clips out. “Don’t have one.” He’s trembling, now, from the fever and the chills and the stress.
“You don’t have an alpha?” Army says, the shock obvious in his voice. “Well then if not the team then who do you spend your heats with?”
“No one. By myself.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sid. Any of the guys would help you out. They have services for that shit, too.”
“Don’t need one,” Sidney replies, hesitating before he adds on, “don’t want one.” Sidney wants one. He just wants the right one. The one who won’t care that he doesn’t want heat sex and just wants hugs and naps and cuddles and will cry and ache most of the time. None of the guys on the team are cut out of for that. He wouldn’t ask them of that even if they were.
“How do you break the heat, then?” Army asks. “Without an alpha, like, doesn’t it take longer since you’re, you know, taking care of it yourself?” He sounds uncomfortable, and Sidney can understand why. He’s talking about sex with his young omega teammate. They talk about sex, all the guys talks about sex, but it’s usually with the focus on some imaginary girl or, with the few bi or gay guys on the team, guy.
“It breaks on its own.”
“Sid, I can’t just leave you here on your own knowing you’re gonna be all…messed up. Let one of us get you through it. Or let me call someone who will.” What he means by “get you through it” is “let someone fuck you until you feel better.” It’s what they all mean when they offer. It’s probably the only reason any of them offer. Heat sex with an omega that looks like Sidney is a good deal for most alphas, even the ones who claim to hate him. There’s no way of knowing what the reaction would be if Sidney were to say yes to one of them and then break the news that no, he doesn’t want any sex.
Sidney realizes that Army isn’t going to let this go if he doesn’t tell him the truth, at least the partial truth.
“I don’t like sex when I’m in heat, Colb,” Sidney says finally. “So stop with the interrogation and just leave me alone.”
“You what?” he exclaims. Sidney cringes further into the safety of his blanket cocoon.
“You heard me, now just leave me alone already!” Sidney shouts, mustering up all the energy he physically can to raise his voice.
Sidney can hear Army shuffling around again. Instead of moving away, Army moves closer. He crouches at the side of the bed Sidney is occupying rather than sitting down on the edge of the bed and disrupting the integrity of the nest the omega has created.
“Hey,” Army says, pulling a little at the blankets to expose a bit of Sidney’s face. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m just surprised, but it’s fine, okay? You run the show with this. I was being an asshole. But I meant it earlier, you need something, I’ll get it.”
Sidney consider his offer. Most omegas in heat would probably ask for some food that is ridiculously bad for you. Sidney’s appetite disappeared on the ride back to the hotel and won’t be back until this stupid heat is over.
“Grab me a water from the nightstand,” Sidney says. Army swings around, grabbing one of the bottles and carefully handing it through the small space within the blankets that he’s formed to Sidney.
“Is that it?” the older player asks. He looks eager to do more, but the only other thing Sidney wants is the kind of hug where he’d wrap himself around the man like an octopus. Sidney doesn’t want to ask him for that, it’d be like crossing some invisible line. Besides, Sidney doesn’t think he’d be able to let go once he latches on.
“Yeah,” Sidney says after a pause of hesitation. “Now go to bed. You have a game and need to nap.” He cracks the top off of the water bottle and sits up just enough so that he can sip at it without spilling it all over himself.
Army stand and grabs their ice bucket, telling Sidney he’ll be right back before disappearing into the hotel hallway. Sidney screws the top back onto the bottle and lays it beside him in the bed. The crying had tapered down to a slow, silent trickle during his conversation with Colby. Sidney takes stock of his body and is relieved than he can currently consider this heat one of his milder ones. Most of the time he gets headaches and stomach aches. There’s always some degree of crying. He had cried so hard he’d gagged and choked once. Sidney’s heats are unpredictable in all aspects which just makes it so much more exhausting.
Colby comes back with the bucket filled with ice. He pops the bottles of water into the bucket and then puts the lid on. Sidney is oddly touched at the gesture.
“Thanks,” Sidney says, pulling the blankets down a little more so he can tuck the edges under his arms. Army nods and doesn’t say anything, sitting down on the edge of the bed that is now his and just looking at the younger player. Sidney glances at the clock on the nightstand.
“Take your nap now, Army, I’m serious.”
“Alright, alright,” Army finally concedes, holding his hands up and beginning to undress.
Army sets his alarm and finally lays down in bed. Sidney shifts around restlessly, for some reason unable to get completely comfortable. Army is out cold when Sidney peeks out from his nest, so it’s almost too easy to creep out of it and to the pile of clothes Army discarded on the floor by the dresser. Sidney picks through it until he finds what he’s looking for: the older player’s t-shirt. It’s still kind of damp with sweat which would normally be disgusting but all Sidney is focused on is the scent that it has.
There was one time back in juniors when Sidney had gone into heat and was able to squirrel away a bunch of his teammate’s things. He had taken what he could get, t-shirts and toques and even a few practice jerseys. The stench alone would normally be enough to make a weaker man pass out, but to Sidney in heat, it was like a mountain of gold. He’d smuggled it out in his gym bag and kept it all tucked close nearby in the nest he’d constructed in his billet room. Every team Sidney’s ever played on has always eventually felt like a pack, and Rimouski was no different. That was one of his most comfortable and mellow heats, surrounded by the scents of his pack and curled into blankets in the dim light of his room. Sidney doesn’t normally have the opportunity to grab his teammate’s things without being noticed, so that had been the only time. This chance is far too valuable to pass up.
When Sidney rises from where he’d been crouched down to root around the pile, Colby is sitting up in bed, squinting at Sidney. Sidney freezes, caught, the t-shirt clenched tightly in his hand.
“Is that my shirt?” he says, in a tone that says he already knows the answer.
“No,” Sidney replies, even though he’s now wringing the shirt in both of his hands.
“You coulda just said, you know,” Army says, sighing loudly before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and getting to his feet.
“What are you doing?” Sidney says, a little panicked.
“Going to go steal a shirt from everyone on the team, what does it look like?” Army replies, rolling his eyes as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
“You don’t have to do that,” Sidney rushes out, moving to block the path to the hotel door.
“No, you’re right, I don’t, but it’s clearly something you like when you’re, you know,” Army says. “Why not do it? It’s not something complicated or inconvenient, and even if it was, the guys would still do it.”
Sidney’s mouth pops open, but he can’t think of anything to say in reply. “You’re really gonna go wake them all up just for this?” he says finally.
“Well it’ll be hard to catch them all after nap time before they head down to catch the bus, so, yes, I will,” Army reasons. “It’s also early enough that most of them will probably still be awake.”
Sidney looks down at the t-shirt in his hand, nose twitching at the scent wafting off of it. His sense of smell is always way more sensitive when he’s in heat.
“You don’t think it’s…weird?”
“What? No, why would I?”
“Well, it’s not like you guys are my alpha. I shouldn’t want all your stuff like this, it’s weird.”
“Sid, this might be the least weird thing about you. Lots of omegas like stuff with the scents from their packs for heat. We had a guy down in Wilkes-Barre a couple years ago who practically bullied us into giving him stuff. It’s totally normal.” Army stares at Sidney for a second, studying his fidgeting form. “This is your third heat this season. Did you sneak stuff the last couple times?”
“No!” Sidney exclaims. “No, I don’t do that. I’ve only done it once in juniors. The guys were already annoyed with me having to take games off for heats, so I couldn’t just ask for their stuff. I could only do it once.”
“And it was better with them, right?” Army says slowly, like he’s talking to a child. “Which is why you took mine just now?”
Sidney nods mutely.
“Then let me do this for you. I know you’re too busy being angsty after coming back after a heat to notice, but the team gets super antsy when you’re heating because you don’t let anyone do anything for you. They’ll be happy to do it.”
“Okay,” Sidney says softly, shyly.
“Alright,” Army says with a satisfied nod. “I’ll be back, then. Lay down, will you? You’re making me anxious just looking at you.”
Sidney lays back down in his nest and tries not to feel horrible at the thought of Army knocking on every door on the floor to take an item of clothing. The worst part that’s really throwing him off has to be that Army doing this is really drawing attention to the fact that Sidney’s an omega, something the younger player is always trying to make everyone forget.
Army return not long after with and armful of t-shirts and toques and even a few hoodies. He dumps the pile directly into Sidney’s nest, offering the omega a lopsided grin before he turns around to go throw the deadbolt on the door.
“Only a few of them were asleep, and they were more than fine with giving me something once I asked, so stop with the sad eyes already.”
Sidney scowls, not pausing in his arranging of the new additions to his nest. All of the scents of his team, his pack, swirling around him is already calming his nerves a ton. It’s probably helping that this heat is relatively mild. There was nothing that spurred this on, no big fight on the ice or emotional argument with a friend. There’s no headache or migraine or stomach ache. Scents like these help, but they only help so much. This is a lucky heat, if any heat of Sidney’s can be considered lucky.
“Thank you,” Sidney says quietly.
“Any time, Sid,” Army says, kicking his sweatpants off and throwing himself back onto his bed, “any time.”
*****
It’s not some big revelation, thankfully. Army knows better than to share Sidney’s business without the kid’s permission. The guys still offered their “help” when Sidney went into heat again in early April two months later. Sidney hadn’t even had to ask for clothes with his teammates’ scents. Sidney had felt it coming on in the middle of a practice, the buzzing at the back of his neck, and the alphas on the team were undoubtedly able to smell it as they all made their way back into the locker room once practice was over. They’d all dropped something with their scent on it in a neat little pile in front of Sidney’s stall as he undressed. Sidney’s cheeks had burned bright red the entire time. A satisfied purr had almost managed to work its way out of his throat, but he’d stifled it just in time.
That heat had been mild, too. It was a welcome change.
The penguins don’t make the playoffs. Sidney is disappointed but unsurprised. He spends the summer working out and spending much needed time with his family.
He heats four times. The first two aren’t so bad, the first in early May lasting a day and the second in mid-June lasting two. The third in late July is a completely different story. It lasts an excruciating five days and he spends so much of it crying that his throat is a raw mess by the time the heat finally breaks. His head and stomach aches the entire time. His OS has been prescribing him pain medication since his first disaster of a heat when he was fourteen and it hardly managed to take the edge off.
It’s almost like his body is punishing him. He’s finally able to make nests with scents from his pack and now it’s almost like he’s in withdrawal from it. His family was his first pack, of course, and they offer him things with their scents as always, but for some reason it’s just not the same. Sidney is surprised, but he supposes in a strange way that it makes sense. He spent a majority of his year in Pittsburgh with the team acting as his pack and will continue doing so for years to come. It makes sense for his body to adapt to a big change like that. Sidney supposes that a few difficult heats during the summer is worth a season of mild heats and good hockey.