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The first thing Sapnap did after graduating from the University of Texas was to move to London.
It's a long story: He accidentally runs into this random guy on the side of the road, they are both drunk, and they yell and scream because they can. In the spur of the moment, Sapnap invites the guy for a drink at a nearby bar, and by some miracle: the stranger accepts.
He learns that the dude’s name is George, he's a bit older and has grown up in London.
Sapnap concludes that he is nice and he’s got nothing to lose now, so he gives George his number and promises to play video games with him whenever they are both free.
Now it’s been over eight months, and because neither of them really have any money, they move in together.
Sapnap finds a job at the TK Elevator of all places because, sure, that’s definitely why he has studied Engineering Mechanics for the past four years and put himself in irreparable debt.
But because he doesn’t earn enough money to sustain himself, he keeps living with George. George, ever the lucky bastard, has scored a job as a Senior Engineer at the Transport for London and makes at least a livable wage for doing nothing all day and bossing people around.
Sapnap won’t complain, though. Sometimes, he feels like George is his sugar daddy, and he is leeching off of his success in life, but oh well. The benefits are mutual.
See, George is objectively really fucking pretty, even Sapnap can admit that. The problem comes with an unmated omega walking around mostly horny alphas stuck in unhappy marriages. This combination has led George into way more uncomfortable situations than he would like to admit.
Here comes Sapnap, ever the heroic alpha: every morning before work Sapnap lightly scents George in his plum and cardamom smell, so people realize he is off limits. It’s a sad confrontation with reality, but it works, so why stop now?
All of this has come down to the pair living together for nearly two years.
George and Sapnap have become great friends and treat each other like siblings most of the time. It would feel weird now if they got separate places.
George is sure he will move out eventually, but he is doing good and doesn’t see why living with a random guy he met when he was drunk out of his mind at 25 would be an issue.
Except for the obvious.
George is an omega and Sapnap is an alpha. They briefly - consisting of an incredibly awkward conversation between the duo - considered becoming heat partners, however, Sapnap could not even bring himself to kiss George, arguing that it felt like making out with a cousin, hence the idea was dropped quickly.
Instead, they decided to put away some money and save up enough so the other could get a hotel for a week or two whenever the other was in heat or a rut.
It wasn’t ideal and ludicrously expensive, yet it guaranteed that nobody was made uncomfortable, so they stuck to it.
Up until this point.
George knew his heat was getting closer with each day passing. He just couldn’t bring himself to warn his roommate yet.
Sapnap had his suspicions though, George had a dead giveaway when it came to his cycle. He would refuse to eat or drink anything that he didn’t consider one of his so-called “comfort foods” shortly before his heat kicked in.
…
It was day four of George only eating sushi when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” George yells, rushing down the hallway to open the door. He has been craving the small roles since he got home from work today.
He makes a mental note to text his boss that he will be taking off a few weeks as he swings open the heavy front door.
“It’s you again,” George notes, in a significantly better mood now that only a few steps are separating him and his desires.
Standing in front of him is the same blond guy who has been delivering the sushi the omega has been yearning for. George concludes that he is very cute after seeing him repeatedly for the past week. His hair is a darker shade of blond that looks red in the sun, and his eyes remind him of warm summer days in Regent’s Park back when he was a child and didn’t have to worry about performance goals and network issues.
However, what George just can’t get out of his mind is his statue. He is tall and broad with shoulders that are wider than the door. His hands can effortlessly grasp around multiple containers of hot food and those arms - oh, those arms.
George is convinced he has committed a sin and this is God’s way of torturing him because this man is incapable of wearing anything but skin-tight t-shirts that show off his arms in such an angelically good way it should be illegal.
“Sir?” a voice very rudely interrupts George’s fantasizing. “Sir?” There it is, that beautiful sound again, beckoning him towards the pearly gates of heaven.
“Mr. Martin? You still need to pay for all this?” And with that sentence reality knocks George on his ass. He can hear the angry noise of Londonian cars honking in the background and the screams of drunk people coming home from a nearby pub.
“That’s not my name,” George feels the need to clarify.
“Well, that’s the name on the doorbell, so I kind of assumed it belonged to the person actually living in the house,” the stranger justifies with a sarcastic tone, “my bad.” The delivery guy still looks at him expectedly.
“Oh, yeah, the money… right. Can you wait here for a second?” George asks a bit abashedly, “... or if you’d like you can wait inside. I can get you a glass of water or something.” Without waiting for a response, George makes his way over to his bedroom, leaving the entrance open.
When he returns with 30 Pounds, the guy is still standing at the door, waiting patiently. “Here you go,” George says, handing over everything, “keep the rest, for making you wait in the sun and everything,” George explains with a shy smile.
The delivery man starts, “Oh, no worries, I wasn’t in a hurry anyway, but thank you…” he looks at the omega with a quizzical look.
“George, my name is George,” he responds. “And you are…?”
“How about I tell you next time? I think we’ll be seeing each other more often.” the stranger has the audacity to wink at George.
George has to regain his composure and double-check that his soul hasn’t ascended straight to heaven. “Wow, do you always make fun of your regulars? Or is this some ploy to get me to order again?” George complains, but he blushes and both of them know neither of them is serious.
“Guess you will have to find out next time!” the mysterious man calls out behind his shoulder while turning to leave.
Instead of responding, George virtually slams the door shut and presses his back against the cool wooden surface, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. Fleeing from the living room, George needs to stop himself from giggling and blushing like a school girl when passing his housemate’s bedroom door.
If George hasn’t been able to concentrate at work because a certain tall blond has been plaguing his mind then that’s between God and himself only.
Sapnap has yet to mention his, frankly, concerning addiction, so George takes that as a win.
But who could blame him? Yeah, maybe he kept ordering from this local family-owned sushi place in hopes of seeing the cute stranger.
Is it working? Yes, without a skip it has always been the same person bringing him his food. Has George spent an undisclosable amount of money on deliveries? That’s for him to know and for his accountant to find out at the end of the month.
George just can’t bring himself to stop indulging in his habit when the guy is so amazing. In the past week, George has learned that his name is Dream and his parents own the restaurant hence he is the only person delivering. His family moved to London pretty recently due to some job opportunities for when Dream finishes university.
Fortunately for his wallet, George has finally built up the courage to ask for Dream’s number and hopefully a meeting that doesn’t involve sushi.
“Hey there stranger,” Dream greets when George opens the door for him “Thought I had the wrong order for a second. Not your usual this time?” Dreams inquire with a coy grin. But as if seeing a ghost, Dream freezes and takes a step back, creating distance between him and George, taking a deep breath through his mouth.
All of the little pep talks George has given himself throughout the week, go down the drain quicker than he can blink. Suddenly feeling tremendously unsure, George stutters, “Uhm… yeah, thought I- uhm… thought I switch things up every once in a while.” George says with an awkward chuckle that comes out more like a cough at the end. “What I meant to ask you was… maybe we could- or I think maybe- I’d like to- You know what? Forget.” George finishes up hurriedly, taking the box from Dream’s hands, giving him a 50-pound banknote, and closing the door shut in his face.
To George’s surprise, Sapnap is standing right in front of him when he turns around, almost causing a heart attack and making him drop his box of now cold sushi.
“How long have you been standing there?” George questions visibly pissed off.
“Dude you reek,” ignoring George’s remark, Sapnap carries on, “You need to stop ordering food and making strangers come close to the house when your heat is so close.” Sapnap accuses, continuing his walk towards their miserably empty kitchen.
“My what- I am not-” George halts in his movements, lifting his wrist directly up to his nose, smelling his gland, and practically puking from how strongly his caramelized scent invades his brain. “Sapnap!” exclaims the omega scandalized, “Why wouldn’t you tell me!? Is that why he was so thrown off?”
“Who? The delivery guy?” the alpha keeps talking nonchalantly while shuffling cereal into his mouth. “Probably. Or maybe because he thinks you are mated and didn’t want to cause any ruckus,” he adds without chewing his food completely.
“First of all, gross, don’t speak with your mouth full,” Sapnap only theatrically rolls his eyes in response to that. “Second of all, why would he think I am mated, I’m clearly not.” the brunet complains.
His friend is out for blood today because he deliberately takes a spoonful of cornflakes before speaking, “Yeah, clearly,” Sapnap emphasizes with an over-the-top sarcastic tone, “To an outsider, you stink like the alpha with whom you share a house. Of course, their first assumption is going to be that you are taken.” The younger swallows this time before speaking, “Besides, why do you care what he thinks?”
“I don’t,” George defends himself, “I just think it’s stupid.” Like an angry toddler, the omega throws himself down on the couch, crossing his arms before his chest.
Sapanp stands up with his now empty bowl and places it into the sink, skillfully ignoring the staggering pile of dishes already in there. “Either way, I’m going to call up The Crown, see if they have any rooms available and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can, alright?” The American tousles George’s already messy hair when passing behind the couch and enters his room without waiting for an answer.
Objectively, it’s a horrible- terrible plan. But you know what they say, desperate times, require desperate solutions or something along those lines.
George knows he shouldn’t do it and it’s not too late to turn around, abandon his mission, go back to his snug and cozy bed, and sleep it all off. Act like all of this never happened and leave it in the past, only to revisit the memory when it’s 3 am and he hasn’t been able to fall asleep yet, plagued by every embarrassing thing he has done in his 27 years of living. Out of his entire list, this one has got to be in the top 5.
He already told his boss he would be sick for a while and Sapnap texted him a couple of hours ago that he had settled in his room nicely, so tragically there was no reasonable person left to stop him, only himself.
Deep down George knows exactly that he won’t though, no matter what.
It’s half past noon and the Brit is standing in front of a homey-looking Japanese restaurant next to an abandoned pub that was closed down due to repeated break-ins. Not the nicest part of the city but there is a certain stranger George is hoping to encounter behind these doors.
Armed with multiple scent patches covering all of his scent glands and all the courage he managed to collect on his short walk here, George crosses the threshold of the small family business and hears the friendly klink of a small bell go off above the door.
If George hadn’t checked the business hours a thousand and one times before coming here, he would think the place was closed. All the boots stand empty and not a soul is to be seen at the register. George doesn’t panic though, Dream has mentioned before that the restaurant is at a very unfortunate location therefore, most of their customers like to order online and get their food brought to them.
The brunet can’t say he doesn’t relate.
The silence is interrupted by a familiar voice belting out, “I’ll be with you in a second!” and instantly George’s pulse skyrockets.
After only a short wait during which the omega examines all the decorations around the place, Dream steps out from a door labeled ‘staff only’. “Hey, how can I help you-” Shortly after looking up, the blond seems to finally notice George standing near the doorway with his hands clasped together as a form of reassurance.
“What are you doing here?” Dream asks perplexed, seemingly at a loss for words, but nevertheless continues, “Listen, I shouldn’t have come on to you like that and I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and your mate. I should have realized way sooner and-” he rambles on, words almost incomprehensible because of how fast he is speaking.
George takes pity on him and decides to end his misery, “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He takes a step closer to the counter, being reminded again just how much taller the blond is. “You did nothing wrong. The guy that I live with, Sapnap, he is just an idiot friend who can’t be bothered to find his own apartment and-”
Instead of the relieved look, George was expecting to see, Dream appears agitated. “Do you seriously take me for that big of a dumbass? You guys ‘just happened to live together’? Are you genuinely sneaking behind his back? Where is he?” In mere seconds the American’s whole demeanor has gone from customer-service-friendly to angry.
“What? No!” George replies, “I seriously have nothing going on with him, we are just friends!” Now George is mad, too. “And if you want to know so badly, he is at a hotel, so I can have the house while I’m in heat because we are good friends.” The brunet punctuates each word in order to get their meanings across.
Dream’s emotions seemed to be regulated by a flip of a switch, concern overtaking his features. “You said you are in heat? As in right now?”
“Yeah, but my point is that-”
The taller doesn’t let George finish, “Are you insane? You should be at home, c’mon I’ll drive you.” Not looking at the other, Dream makes his way towards the exit, grabbing his key on the way. “Who knows what weirdos are walking around here.”
George doesn’t argue because he knows the other is right. And now that Dream has mentioned it, he is kind of feeling icky, like his skin is burning off and his mind is spaced out. So, without further ado, the omega follows Dream out of the shop and gets into his familiar-looking car, which he always sees parked in their entryway whenever he orders his favorite food.
He couldn’t call the car spacious but they fit and that’s all that matters.
The ride wasn't long, but to George, it felt like an eternity, when Dream suddenly interrupted the uncomfortable silence, “Why did you come to the shop?”
“What?” George responds, still feeling out of it.
“Why did you come to the restaurant, if you knew your heat was close?” Dream rephrases his question, hoping for an explanation.
The omega proceeds, staring out the car window, seeing busy streets and familiar buildings pass by. “I wanted to clear things up. Didn't want to think of me as this cheating piece of shit.” George finishes with a humorless chuckle.
Now that George finally has the opportunity to stare at Dream and examine his features up close, he notices a small, almost completely opaque sticker on the neck of the blond, covering his very own scent gland. “How come I’ve never smelled you before? You’ve been around me plenty the past week or so.”
“Oh, these,” Dream reaches a hand up to one of the patches, almost as if self-conscious, “these truly cover up one’s smell. When you work in the food industry and meet so many people a day, you just have to make sure.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” George reacts softly, shrugging his shoulders to the best of his abilities with his seatbelt fastened. And because he has nothing to lose, the brunet can't refrain himself from asking, “Are you mad at me?”
He almost thinks he won't get a response after a pregnant pause in the conversation. However, Dream manages to rescue some of his hopes, “Not mad, just… Well, I think you're an idiot for coming out here, but… I'm also relieved.”
“Relieved?” George follows up.
“Yeah, I mean-” the blond clears his throat, giving himself a few short moments to compose himself, “When I first went to your house, I thought… I thought you were really pretty and-” this time it's a shy giggle that stops his speech, “When I got to know you more, I also thought you were pretty cool… and kind.” The pair have arrived at George's home, but neither of them have made an attempt to get out yet, so Dream takes that as a sign to go on, “But there were all these obvious signs pointing towards you being taken, like the different name on the mailbox, the oversized clothing that clearly doesn't belong to you or that stupid plum smell that constantly follows you around.”
“You know how I work at this big engineering company?” George has come to the conclusion that this would be the right time to explain, “and because of dumb social standards and expectations, I mainly work with dumb alphas who have very fragile egos.”
“Hey, weren't all dumb,” the other playfully defends himself.”
The brunet carries on, “My point is that these guys would rather chew their own dicks off before respecting an omega, an unmated one at that, as their boss.”
An understanding look overtook the alpha's face. “So, Sapnap makes me wear his clothes, and light scents me every morning. It's a safety measurement for us in hopes that I don't get assaulted by creeps at work.”
“Oh, George,” Dream takes a brief moment to reorganize his thoughts, “I'm glad your friend was able to help you and, again, I'm sorry for just assuming shit without asking.”
The omega realizes why they are in their predicament in the first place and makes a hurried leave out of the car, but not before yelling, “Make it up to me by bringing me sushi rolls in about-” George checks his non-existing watch around his wrist, “one week!”
Dream only has time to throw the other a thumbs up through the windshield before the front entrance gets shut and locked.
“Idiot.”
Nearly two weeks later, the freshly met duo are sitting in one of the many small cafés littered around London. George is thoroughly enjoying his first real meal after his exhausting heat while Dream is pondering over calling an ambulance for George when he inevitably gets something stuck in his throat because of how fast he is eating.
The two have settled any misunderstandings and uncertainties lingering between them and established that, yes, George does, in fact, not have a mate and very conveniently for the pair, neither does Dream.
It went as a silent yet mutual agreement that they will continue to see each other and kind of see what happens. George isn't worried in the slightest though that he is the only one with romantic feelings, because Dream has made it his mission to mention just about every ten minutes how much he likes spending time with the brunet.
“So, you're almost done with uni, right? Two more semesters,” the older croaks out, after swallowing just shy of a year's worth of food, “that's exciting.”
“I am,” the taller replies, relieved that George isn't in imminent danger of suffocating any more, “ I'm kind of sad to leave the restaurant behind when I get an actual job.”
Their meal continues to be peaceful and filled with laughter until their very friendly waitress stops by. “Hi, boys,” she addresses both of them but has yet to look at Dream at least once, “did you like your food?”
Just to be polite, the duo both nod their heads. “I'm glad, would you like anything else?” The woman, Ashley according to her name tag, doesn't make an effort to hide her ogling of the older, “Just the bill, thank you.” George clarifies with a smile.
Dream's lemon and Cypress smell usually reminds George of late winter evenings, surrounded by his loved ones and eating freshly baked cookies from his grandmother. As of right now, though, he stinks of the cheap lemon air freshener hanging in his car mixed with burned forest wood.
“What's wrong, Dream?” George questions softly, already knowing the answer.
“Nothing.” Short and chapped, the alpha turns his head away, brooding in silence like a wet puppy.
A few long minutes pass in silence until Ashley makes her way back to their booth and places the bill down, winking at George and going back to attend to another table.
George knows it before he even looks at the bill, but he checks anyway. On the bottom of the paper, in an ugly bright orange pen that George has a lot of difficulty reading, is her phone number with an added obnoxious smiling emoji.
“You gonna text her?” The blond says his first words in a while.
Just because George feels like acting like a little shit today, he doesn't reply immediately, pretending like he is weighing his options carefully and then coming out undecided “I'm not sure yet… I might. Why? You like her?”
“What? No.” Dream deflects quickly, “but you can if you want to.” Ever the good friend.
“C'mon, let's get out of here, I still need to introduce you to Patches.” is what the omega settles on, opting to stop teasing the younger before he goes up in flames, and the whole place catches fire.
Without saying a word, the pair stand up, making their way to Dream's small car parked on the other side of the road. When he reaches his key up to the ignition, George places his hands on the bigger ones to halt his movements and looks at Dream with an amused smile.
Somehow, George seems to be allergic to good ideas when it comes to Dream. Like a big black hole attracting and destroying everything in its path, even light itself can't find an escape.
George feels like those little light particles getting sucked in by the grand orbit that is Dream. Unable to miss it, unable to find another way.
Even if George has only known the mysterious delivery guy for close to a month, he can confidently say that he was the best stupid idea George has ever had.
If introducing Dream to him was God's way of punishing George, then kissing him was his salvation.
George is not religious, far from it. He drinks and smokes and does bad things, but if he gets to keep kissing Dream for the rest of his life, he will happily give up anything else.
It's strange, like most first kisses are, filled with uncertainty and a lingering scent of sour lemon. But they figure it out, like most things in life.
Shock passes, and Dream starts kissing back, moving his lips in rhythm with the brunet. Breaking apart when neither of them have any oxygen left anymore.
“So, Patches, yeah?”
“Yeah. She is going to love you, I know.”