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Hassan meets Lieutenant Columbo immediately after murdering his chief of security in cold blood.
As far as first impressions go, as Columbo enters Hassan’s security meeting with the American police force, interrupting and buzzing about like an unwelcome insect, Hassan’s impression of him is… not so great, to say the least. The man looks lost for a start, blatantly telegraphing that he doesn’t belong in the room as he blumbles about. An honest mistake, perhaps, but then Columbo continues to fumbles about with an obvious inability to conduct himself with the same level of decorum that every other officer has (so far) shown Hassan.
Now, of course, they are all Americans. Hassan certainly expects respect from any and all those invited into his legation, but he doesn’t expect great competence.
In fact, Hassan is counting on it.
He approaches the Americans in the first place because it will be far easier if he can keep the murder inquiries and his own government at an arms length, and it means that if there are any mistakes or slip-ups in the investigation then he can simply blame it on English inadequacy.
So he lets Columbo’s ineptitude slide, swallowing his fury at the insult of having his garments stepped on and torn.
Hassan brushes the experience off as a one-time stroke of bad karma. A little bit of insult is the least of his worries after murdering a comrade, he can handle that much with his chin up. He chooses not to think of the man as any more than a speck on his shoulder; to be dusted off and completely forgotten.
It works to soothe his injured pride just fine until they happen to meet again, this time on the very steps of his own Legation… but even then, trodding all over Hassan’s home turf, the lieutenant can still be written off as merely an unwelcome irritation.
Except… he keeps being an irritation.
The man appears in his path again and again like a bad penny, each time just a little bit more of a nuisance than the last.
The Lieutenant insults him twice by stepping on his robes and tearing the stitches. If they had been in Suari, once alone would have been a crime punishable by the removal of his very feet if Hassan so wished!
To be trod upon twice is a death wish.
Hassan chokes down the insult yet again and continues to be as agreeable as possible for the sake of appearing helpful and as non-obstructive as he can. He does not wish to entice any further suspicions from anyone, but frustrations boil and fester as Hassan discovers the detective’s suspicions already run far deeper than they should.
The lieutenant has no head for propriety, and Hassan feels the sting of his accusations immediately.
Hassan is used to asserting himself calmly, without much flare or any need for dramatics. His power is simply there, his status is his presence in his country and in the Legation, leaving no need for any biological assertion. His status as an Alpha is, in fact, minor to his status as the First Secretary. He has very rarely needed to actually impose his pheromones upon others. It might even be rather unsightly of him to do so, as it diminishes his status as the prince’s man bring the real end all be all…
But—
But this man…
This Lieutenant Columbo makes his nostrils flare and his posture protrude almost on impulse. His body rears at the blatant lack of respect and wishes to rectify it. Hassan has had to catch himself on the cusp of posturing more than once, but he’s sure that the detective has already noticed.
It is yet another way that this bumbling buffoon has poked and prodded Hassan into humiliation and dishonor.
Wandering around wherever he pleases, making light of the Legation’s priceless artifacts and treasures, making accusations and imposing himself into every corner of Hassan’s day-to-day with this—this clumsy absent-mindedness that Hassan is beginning to believe to be a deviously orchestrated act…
This man…
He is—
He is a menace.
Hassan doesn’t know if Columbo is so subtly self-sure because of his own status or no, but it makes his teeth itch. Detectives of his rank certainly hold good standing within the Americas… but… perhaps his designation gives him the real boost of confidence? Why else would he be so agonizingly brazen?
He seems far too cocky and willing to impose himself for a beta, yet the shy deferring of his head and careful “sorry”s and other placatives are irregular of an Alpha.
Hassan can never manage to catch his scent and figure him out, which just adds to his growing frustrations. Hassan catches himself trying to scent the man when they are close, looking to get a whiff of something, anything to give him a clue, but he is never successful.
Columbo conducts himself as a beta at times, bowing to whim and apologizing for everything, keeping his head low and eyes down… but sometimes… sometimes he does meet Hassan in the eye. Sometimes the man holds this—this air about him when he asks his questions… as if he already knows the answer and is just putting Hassan back on his toes because he simply will not allow Hassan a moment of peace.
It could all be a clever act, one way or another, and Hassan is now sure that he covers his scent artificially in order to obstruct his suspects further. It’s all planned, carefully calculated. It’s all simply another part of his charade.
Hassan’s control finally snaps one day when the lieutenant leans back carelessly as they speak in the hall, nearly knocking a priceless vase off balance and onto the floor.
He grabs at the vase, snarling at Columbo as he mutters apologies Hassan is sure he doesn’t really mean.
“What are you?” He snipes, teeth baring without his consent.
Columbo blinks as if entirely oblivious, “I beg your pardon?”
“What are you, Lieutenant?” Hassan repeats, trying to reign in his instinct to snarl until the man bares his throat. “Your designation,” He says, “I demand to know.”
Columbo puts his hand to his forehead and looks as if he was troubled on Hassan’s behalf. Hassan no longer buys into this act, and instead sneers with a simmering hatred.
“Gee, sir, I’m sorry about that.” Columbo says with a shy smile, as if embarrassed, “See, I keep my designation separate from work,” he lifts the hand away from his face as he explains, “for obvious reasons, you understand.”
Hassan is losing his grip on his patience, “No, I’m afraid I do not understand.”
Columbo makes himself look meek again, falsely troubled, but there’s mirth playing at the edges of his eyes.
“Well, sir, it would be very easy to find myself on the wrong end of a lawsuit if anyone ever accused me of intimidating or influencing someone with pheromones. I could get into a lot of trouble if it ever led to—some kind of entanglement with a potential suspect and in all honestly, I just never really saw the need for ‘em myself.”
Hassan is irked by how his explanation has managed to both put Hassan into a corner and still shirk any idea of which designation he may be. Hassan lets his frustration fly wild for a moment, and says this outright.
Columbo just continues to smile, feigning that innocent embarrassment once again, “Well you caught me on that, sir. I just think it’s better that I keep it to myself. See, I wouldn’t want any problems with my work, like I said.”
Hassan knows it’s against procedure, a strong slight even in his own country, perhaps worse in the Americas... however he cannot stop himself from suddenly crowding into the Lieutenant’s personal space and imposing himself.
He draws in a deep and obvious breath through his nose and growls in anger when it yields absolutely nothing but the stale air of an inhibitor.
He draws back carefully, noting the sour, yet calm expression on his adversary’s face.
“You wear something to conceal your scent.”
Columbo nods, “Well, yes sir, and for exactly this reason.”
Hassan narrows his eyes, “You find yourself in a position like this often, Lieutenant?”
“It might surprise you how many people I question become determined to find out what I am, sir. Especially the alphas.”
Hassan straightens his posture and looks down his nose, aware of the lieutenant’s blatant accusation and thinly veiled slight, however deserved it may have been.
Hassan has definitely overstepped a boundary of diplomacy, but under the circumstances, surely he can be excused.
“I happen to have a problem with the way that you carry yourself, Lieutenant.” He says, instead of defending himself, “I should like to know your designation so that I may feel less slighted by several of your careless words and actions.”
Columbo grins, cheesy, with knowing eyes and nice teeth, “You see, that kind of thing actually makes my job easier. I need everybody a little off kilter, more open and honest, so that I can make sure nobody’s lying to me.”
He looks Hassan dead in the face, the grin never leaving him as he adds, “You understand.”
Hassan narrows his eyes, “You believe that I am lying to you, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, it’s my job to assume that everybody is lying to me.”
Hassan takes in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down with the promise that they are not through yet. Columbo has won this battle fair and square. It is now time for Hassan to bow out with dignity and divise a strategy to win the war.
With a curt bow of his head, Hassan leaves, and begins to plan right then and there on how to get the upper hand on this frustratingly clever witted detective.
Hassan gets his chance to finally set his plans into motion when he finds the Lieutenant in the kitchen, handling the kings food and sporting perhaps his first real look of genuine fluster as a guard manhandles him away. Hassan could let it all end here, accuse the detective of espionage and maybe see him executed… but Hassan feels his confidence rise as the Lieutenant’s face falls, and he would prefer to collect his victory spoils in his own way.
Besides, his accomplice is dead, there is nothing left to tie him to the deaths or to any of his other crimes.
Columbo has nothing.
It takes just one word from Hassan to call off the guard, whose hands are already on the lieutenant, ready to drag him off for trying to poison the king.
What a foolish man Columbo was.
Hassan steps forward, the very picture of diplomatic grace as he waves off the guard and offers the panicked Lieutenant some food. To everyone else, Hassan appears a most gracious and forgiving host, a provisional and accommodating Alpha, which lends itself to Hassan’s perfectly crafted character.
In truth, Hassan has taken back a little bit of his power and confidence from Columbo. He then also takes a little more, and seized the opportunity to slip a drug into the bowl next passed to the lieutenant. It was some of his private stock, illegal in most of the American states, kept hidden among his possessions for emergencies.
And Columbo has proven more than deserving of a taste.
Hassan watches the man devour the king’s French delicacies and revels in the beginning stages of his victory as he finishes off every bite.
Columbo praises the chef and thanks him for the food, even thanking Hassan. Oh, to thank a Hassan for his own demise at Hassan’s hands… it’s a treat that fills him with heady warmth and a vivacious feeling of victory.
They resume their conversation, and Hassan puts up with more accusations from the Lieutenant as he waits patiently for the drugs to kick in.
He can’t wait much longer though, so when the lieutenant takes his allegations from innocuous to blatant, much more than Hassan is willing to put up with in public, he makes his move.
“Would you mind coming into my office?” He asks, the very picture of calm.
Columbo seems surprised by the offer but accepts, a suspicious smile on his face, “Not at all.”
Hassan is very quick with pulling out the money from the bank, promising the amount to be in tact with the withdrawal slip attached and handing it to the Lieutenant with an order to take a seat.
Columbo bumbles over pointless apologies even though they both know he’s not even a little bit sorry for any of his accusations.
Hassan simply smiles and accepts Columbo’s words with the charming grace of a practiced dignitary biding his time.
Columbo asks another loaded question and tactlessly implies further allegations.
Hassan stands, then makes his way to the door and calmly locks it, smiling when he turns to find Columbo raising a curious eyebrow at him.
“I feel we will need total privacy for this conversation,” he grins, “you understand.”
Columbo seems to finally look a little nervous, genuinely so this time, and it makes Hassan’s body sing with the promises of his impending victory.
Any moment now…
“Lieutenant, I grow tired of your games, and your accusations. You arrive here whenever most inconvenient, making trouble everywhere you go—“
“And I am sorry for that, you know. My wife always tells me that I—“
“You will cause no more trouble after today.”
Columbo pauses, puts a hand to his stomach, then leans forward a little in his seat and feels his forehead.
Hassan relaxes again and fights off a smirk when Columbo looks up at him expectantly. An act it may be, but the detective is good at disarming his adversaries with that innocent charm.
“Have no fear, you were not poisoned.”
Columbo swallows. That look of genuine nervousness is back. Perhaps Hassan’s blatant way of talking has tipped him off that Hassan is through with playing nice.
“What you have been given is a simple drug, designed to stop the affects of any and all pheromone suppressants you may have taken.”
Columbo’s eyes widen and he starts to stand, looking outraged, but Hassan shoves him back down with a hand firmly on his chest.
“It should begin to take its affect any moment now. And then we shall know.”
Columbo tries to push himself up again and actually starts shouting about how improper this is and how Hassan needs to let him go. But Hassan needs to do no such thing. His office is soundproofed for security reasons and the door is locked. No one will come no matter how loudly the Lieutenant shouts.
“What are you afraid of, Lieutenant? Does your designation actually put you a rank below me? Will you have to finally face me after I am able to smell you?”
Columbo shakes his head reverently, “You’re making a big mistake— Mr. Salah— Hassan, please.”
Hassan glares down at him, “You dare to use my first name with such familiarity? You hurl insult after insult in my direction with absolutely no remorse!”
Columbo shuts his eyes and grabs onto the hand holding him down in place, “Please, I’ll stop, I’m not trying to, it—it just happens. E-everybody says—”
“You have no shame.”
“I have a lot of shame!” Columbo shouts, apparently this is the remark that’s finally cracked his composure.
Good. Hassan wants them to be on the same level when he finally knocks the Lieutenant down a peg.
Columbo’s eyes snap up to Hassan, “It’s you who has no shame! Killing two people and acting like I’m the one who’s in the wrong?”
Hassan sneers, just about ready to let loose and engage in a full-out brawl when he’s cut short by the beginning wafts of a scent finally drifting past his nose.
Columbo must see it begin to register, because his eyes widen and he’s suddenly lost all of his bravado, scrambling back as far as he can in the chair and attempting to push Hassan’s hand away from his chest.
“N-now don’t—“
“I can’t believe it.” Hassan says, and looks down at the detective without a single hint of his earlier rage, finding it impossible to hold on to.
Instead, Hassan is overwhelmed with a new feeling, a more intense feeling, devoid of any malice and filled with something much closer to.. to wonder.
He’s been taken for a fool.
No greater adversary has Hassan ever met…
”Tell me…”
Hassan takes a long drag in through his nose, letting the scent linger and permeate in the back of his throat before he opens his eyes and smiles down at the detective, the brave little detective, who now looks much more like a deer, facing down the hunter’s bow.
“Is it common practice for the American police force to allow omegas into their ranks?”
Columbo visually swallows, skin pale and expression full of worry.
Hassan watches his Adam’s apple bob with rapt attention, suddenly overcome with the urge to chase after it with his teeth.
The scent… the strangely alluring scent of bark and spices, smokey, ashen and warm, like the settling of an evening beside the fireplace or a hearty home-cooked meal. It fills Hassan’s lungs and his belly, wetting his appetite and encouraging him to draw closer.
There’s more of it in layers, fabric—maybe leather… or upholstery? Something subtle yet comforting layered beneath the spice and heartiness.
His scent is comfort personified, old and familial. It’s homey… just as an omega should be.
Hassan drinks in the smell of his victory without remorse or any care for propriety. He cares for nothing else, in fact, but his desire to inhale more and more and more of that lovely scent.
The many concubines that entertain the King’s court are honey and sugar in their smells… too sickeningly sweet for Hassan’s taste. They smell too-sweet and syrupy where Columbo is savory and subtle.
Hassan inhales like it’s the last breath he may ever take, and reopens his eyes to find Columbo panting, possibly shaking.
“Stop that—“
Hassan hadn’t even realized that he’d been releasing his own pheromones in response to the detective’s. His scent floods the air around them, probably suffocating Columbo with his body’s response to such a wonderful smell. His body recognizes what it wants.
Columbo.
Hassan curses himself.
He wants Columbo.
“…I will have you.” He finally says, but the words feel far off and not from his own mouth as he says them.
He watches the lieutenant sputter, mouth gaping open like a fish, and wonders if he could get away with stealing a kiss in this moment.
If this is what the man smells like… what must he taste like?
Hassan has never been so driven by his biology before now. He feels the drive to claim this man, here and now, before anyone else may try to have him. He needs him, needs to—
“S-Snap out of it!” Columbo shouts, and Hassan is shaken back into his senses.
He blinks, unsure of when exactly he had taken a knee up onto the chair, planted between Columbo’s shaking legs, or when he’d taken hold of Columbo’s arms.
Hassan is lumbering over Columbo as if he means to climb on top of him, caging him into the chair and practically burying his face in the detective’s neck.
“I-“ he begins, at a loss for words and his own wits, “…My sincerest apologies.”
Hassan pulls back, but only just enough to breathe air slightly less tainted by Columbo’s seductive scent.
“I have never—“ Hassan swallows.
He cannot afford to leave this moment at odds. He must have Columbo. He must make him understand—
“I believe that you are meant to be mine, Lieutenant.”
Columbo’s jaw practically falls to the floor.
“E-excuse me?”
Hassan clears his throat, standing taller and leaning away from the chair as a whole, hoping to reclaim some of his lost dignity.
“I have never before been so overwhelmed by another scent. I have never had my body respond like that without my consent.”
Columbo doesn’t move from where he’s molded to the chair, shoulders still tense and eyes a little wild with their startled confusion.
“I believe… that you are my hajiina, my friend.”
“…H-Hajeenah?”
Hassan smiles softly, “I believe, you Americans refer to it as, “fated pairs”.”
For a while, Columbo says nothing. He visibly swallows, and Hassan tracks the movement with his eyes greedily. Then, fast as lightning, Columbo is up and out of the chair, pushing Hassan off his feet and making a beeline for the door.
It is locked, but that only delays Columbo for a second, enough time for Hassan to get back onto his feet but not enough time to catch him.
The door is left swinging wide open, Columbo’s unflattering jacket flapping along behind him as the fast clicking of Columbo’s footsteps echo down the marble hall.
Hassan is finally at the door, and debates giving chase, body singing with the desire to hunt down his would-be beloved and take him wherever they may land.
… But that would be more than improper. Hassan has already stretched himself far beyond safe boundaries here. He’s ousted and insulted his future mate and obviously frightened him away.
Hassan must recollect himself and decide what he will do going forward.
Columbo will be back, of that Hassan is certain. There is still a case for him to solve. He hasn’t stopped showing up out of the blue since this entire thing began and Hassan doubts him to be a man who would back down so easily from a fight.
Hassan will wait. He will bide his time. Columbo has no evidence against him and there will be none out there for him to find.
Hassan will beat him, and then he will have him.
He cannot bring himself to regret any of the choices that have led him to this moment today. Without murdering his comrades he may have now been in Columbo’s better graces… but without a murder to solve he may never have met the man in the first place. If he had not drugged his future beloved he may have been more trusted… but he would never have known who Columbo truly was to him.
This was the way Allah has deigned it to be, the way they were always meant to meet and discover one another, so Hassan would never let himself regret a single moment. Columbo was and forever would be his hajiina, and Hassan would claim him, just as fate intended.
No matter the cost.
The coattails of that ugly brown raincoat finally flap away until completely out of sight, and Hassan wishes he could grab onto a fistful of that hideous tan leather and haul Columbo into a kiss good enough to sway him here and now.
But he can wait.