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The ceiling in the Calgary locker room drips when the snow melts. The darkened wet area in the corner over the door spreads across the surface, edging closer to Matthew throughout the season until he can hear the drip, drip, drip onto the floor by his feet in April. He sticks his foot under it, letting the soft material of his running sneakers absorb the water. He’s watching it so intently, so lost in the recesses of his mind, that he doesn’t realise Hanifin’s there. It takes a kick to the shin to notice him.
“What are you doing here, Chucks?” He asks, features soft, lips tugged into a mellow smile. His tall frame towers over Matthew like this, him sitting, Hanny standing. Matthew shrugs.
“Using the gym,”
“You’re meant to be resting,” Hanifin’s shifts his weight back onto his heels, crosses his arms. It’s something Matthew appreciates about him, he never uses being an alpha to threaten, just to disapprove. Matthew is used to disappointing alphas. He gives him a crooked smile,
“You know me, Hanny, can’t keep me away,” Matthew is reliably disobedient to the trainers, to the point where they’ve come to his house to check he’s doing the right thing. It’s not something that proper etiquette would normally allow – having an unknown person in an omega’s space – but this is Matthew, people see him disrespecting etiquette as an invitation to disrespect him. He can’t be bothered to make a fuss over it. Hanifin frowns, his thick eyebrows pulling together.
“I’m taking you home,” He says, with an air of finality that is distinctly Hanny. Matthew opens his mouth to protest, “No, no arguing Matty, get your stuff.” Matthew averts his eyes to the ground and Hanifin groans. “Oh my God, Matthew, you’re such an idiot I can’t believe you,”
“In my defence, I was upset, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,” Matthew protests. He can hear the indignance in his voice and cringes at it, he hates sounding stroppy, immature. Hanifin sheds his jacket, pulls off his Flames hoodie and extends it to Matthew who puts it on without protest, shoving his hands into the pockets.
They make their way out to the carpark and Matthew shivers, which earns him a glance from Hanny, and he scowls. Hanny drives an SUV with enough space for the family Matthew is sure he’s about to have. Matthew can’t scent people well, but he can always smell Hanny’s buttery contentment after a weekend with his beta girlfriend. He hops into the passenger side and clicks in the seatbelt, slouching and scowling. Hanny sighs softly.
“What’s the matter?” He asks as he leaves the training centre, looking carefully before pulling out into the traffic. Matthew doesn’t answer at first, just stares out the window, stewing. He’s sure Hanny can guess what’s wrong – they’ve played together for years; Noah saw him grow up for god’s sake. He knows where Matthew’s fracture points are, where if you press hard enough, he’ll splinter. He’s silent for too long. “Is it an omega thing?”
“Noah!” Matthew exclaims, “It is not,” he grumps, folding his arms across his chest, “so rude,”
“I just wanted to ask, Jesus,” Hanifin says, and then, “are you sure?” Matthew glares at him.
“I’ll jump out,”
“No, you won’t,”
“I will,”
“You will not,”
“I’ll do it now-,”
“For fuck’s sake Matty, I’m trying to help,” He takes his left hand off the wheel to gesticulate. Matthew does feel shame curl in his stomach at that point. He knows Hanny would never do anything malicious to anyone, least of all Matthew.
“Fine, it is an omega thing,” Hanny gives him a once over, giving into the subconscious alpha instinct to protect, and Matthew feels his shoulders hunch forward.
“Did someone do something?” He asks,
“No, do I smell weird?” Matthew says it a beat too fast, and the frown reappears on Hanny’s face,
“You smell like you always do, Matty,” he replies, and Matthew relaxes minutely. Hanny pulls into the carpark of his apartment building but doesn’t unlock the doors. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but can I at least do something to help?”
“The trainers sent one of their, like, student placements to my apartment to check on me. It feels weird now, unbalanced,” Matthew admits, voice soft. He doesn’t dare look at Hanny, just stares at hands on his knees, counting across his knuckles, ten and back again. Hanny makes a gentle noise,
“Oh, Matty,” He says, “can I touch you?” Matthew nods and he puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles over the hoodie. They stay like that for a while, Hanny letting Matthew take his time, giving him as long as he wants to just be upset. He doesn’t stop the gentle touches around his shoulder and up and down his arm, grounding him, calming him, without encroaching on his space. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Come up with me?” Matthew asks, looking up at Hanny, his blue eyes wide. Hanny nods, unlocks the car, and they take the lift to the apartment together.
Matthew lives on the fifth floor. There’s two other flats and he knows the owners vaguely – there’s an old married couple, and a young beta woman who collects his mail from his box when he’s away. As soon as he takes a step over the threshold, he feels how wrong it feels. It’s been invaded, it’s a base instinct that there’s something in his space, a threat he needs to hide from. He hears Hanny inhale deeply, clearly looking if there’s something there unpleasant, and then makes a noise of discontent. Well. If Hanny can smell something, it’s probably what’s been disrupting Matthew for the past three days.
“What’s wrong?” Matthew asks,
“It smells gross in here,”
“Thanks,” Matthew mutters and Hanny puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him moving forward,
“No, like, sour, like oxidised wine. Can you not smell it?”
“I can feel it,” Matthew says and Hanny nods.
“Open the windows, and I’ll walk around a bit, see if I can do anything if that’s okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Matthew agrees and goes to open the windows.
Hanny paces around his house for twenty minutes, scenting things and scowling at the counter where the trainer had leant when Matthew showed him his fridge. Matthew feels the muscles in his back unwind, and snakes in his stomach stop writhing as Hanny goes through each room. The presence of a trusted alpha forces his mangled body to stop jittering. Hanny comes over and sniffs him, then coos. Matthew snorts,
“Knucklehead,” He says and Hanny grins, doped up on the calm scent Matthew must be emitting,
“Much better,” He squeezes Matthew’s shoulder, “don’t let me catch you back at the gym!”
“You won’t,” Matthew laughs as he shoves Hanny out of the door, and rushes across the apartment to see his car drive safely away.