It’s Not Going To Run Away From You

He doesn't know why the sheriff calls some rancher to pick him up instead of taking him to jail after catching him breaking and entering. The man had asked a few questions about his family and where he came from that Billy wouldn't answer. The old rancher nods to himself like that is all the answer he needed before leading him to his truck with a motion to follow.

"Come on kid, got a spot on the ranch waiting to be filled." Billy’s not sure about this but he doesn't have anywhere else to go and if he tries to refuse this it is probably the local jail. Easier to get away from a ranch then a cell, he holds his backpack to his chest and climbs into the passenger seat.

"Names Franklin but everyone these days just calls me grandpa Harrington." The man says as he hauls himself into the driver's seat. Hair more peppered than brown, curling around his ears and a mustache that puts Burt Reynolds’ to shame. 

As the door pulls closed trapping then in the confined space he can just barely smell alpha under the scent of dirt and animals, almost completely smothered by the scent of familial omega that clings to him. The scents clinging to the man aren't sour and it is the only thing keeping Billy from bolting. If an omega is close enough for their scent to cling like that and smell happy, maybe this alpha isn't so bad. Billy still doesn't offer his name.

"Not one for chatting." Franklin nods to himself starting the truck, the seat under his ass vibrates with the rumble of the engine. “Hope you don’t mind the music.” His calloused fingers turn the dial and country music comes filtering through the speakers, not Billy’s taste but he doesn’t find he minds it as he stares out the window watching the scenery blur as they pass it by.

-

The house is big, the biggest one Billy’s ever seen this close, from the looks of the well-worn wood it started as a smaller structure with more and more added on over the years. Big windows shine light on a big wraparound porch, the railing stripping the flower beds lining the ground around it.

Franklin parks the truck up front next to the stairs leading up to a set of big intricately carved double doors. Billy jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, Franklin takes his hand back with an understanding look that makes his gut sour. “Come on kid, let's get a hot meal in you and then I'll take you down to the bunk house and let you get settled in with the cowboys.”

Franklin get out of the truck, the door closing loud in Billy’s ears watching like he is moving in slow motion as the man comes around and opens his door. There is a fresh whiff of alpha, but the wind is blowing and the overwhelming scent of happy omega coming from the house makes it not so scary. “Come on kid, you'll feel better after you eat.” The man motions for him to step out and the only reason Billy does is to avoid being pulled.

The door closes behind him just as loud and Billy flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder, hackles rising. Franklin takes it in stride pulling his hand back with an apologetic face and a motion up toward the house before he starts heading up the steps. Billy thinks about running, looks left and then right, another smaller set of buildings one way nothing but open space the other. It is his stomach growling that has him following Franklin up the stairs, running will be easier on a full stomach. 

Billy follows Franklin up the stairs and inside the house, where the warmth and the happy scents in the air are even stronger than on the man. He reluctantly follows Franklin's lead and toes his shoes off but keeps his coat and his bag close. If the man notices and Billy is sure by the frowning glance he does, he doesn't say anything, just leads the way deeper into the house.

“You’re late.” Comes from another room before a tall omega walks into the dining room Billy has been led into. The woman looks to be around Franklin's age, a speckling of moles covering her and salt peppering her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She blinks attention turning to Billy as the annoyance leaves her scent. “Well now who’s this?”

“Lost pup needs a place, figure we got room in the bunkhouse for one more.” Franklin says like he is talking about the weather and not the boy he brought home out of nowhere. He moves away from Billy, leaving him standing in the arch way leading from the hall and takes a seat at the head of a big wooden table. It is the biggest table Billy has ever seen outside a restaurant, not that he has been in many of those, old and well cared for.

“And does the pup have a name?” The woman asks with a raised brow, huffing at her alpha husband. Billy is more than a little fascinated by the lack of fear she shows when speaking to her husband, how easy her scent is even with a trickle of annoyance.

“If he’s got one he’s not given it to me.” Franklin says, sounding amused and maybe sad if Billy is reading him right but not angry at something most would see as a slight. “Maybe he’ll tell you if you ask Amelia.” Franklin rests his elbow on the table and his hand on his fist smiling at his mate like she hangs the moon.

She smiles back at him just as fondly before her attention is turned on Billy once more. “You got a name kid?” Billy nods and receives a raised eyebrow for it. “Well what is it? You don’t want the boys in the bunkhouse giving you a nickname off the bat. They’ll give you something dreadful and I’d prefer to address you by your name.”

Billy nods again as he scuffs his feet against the wood floor, head bowed as he offers, “Billy ma’am.”

“Well that’s a nice name,” She smiles at him, hand touching his shoulder gently and Billy lets her lead him over to the table. Franklin watches them, nodding to himself as the pieces of the puzzle that is Billy slide a little more into place. “You hungry? I bet you are.”

Before Billy can answer there is another scent stronger than before as a boy a year or so younger than him comes sliding into the room holding a plate laden with food. He is long legged and even more speckled than Amelia. The boy, an omega, glances at Billy with big curious eyes as he goes around the table on the opposite side from where Amelia had him settled, all the way around until he reaches Franklin and offers him the plate.

“Thanks kiddo,” Franklin ruffles the kids hair as he says it, the boy leaning into it like a content cat, eyes nearly closed before he is looking at Billy again.

“Who’s this?” The boy's dark eyes speckled with lighter shades bounce between Amelia and Franklin.

“Steve this is Billy,” Amelia introduces him before moving away from Billy and beckoning Steve, “now come help bring him a plate.” Amelia is already heading back the way she came, to the kitchen Billy supposes stomach grumbling once more as the smell of Franklin's plate reaches his nose.

Steve looks to Franklin like he wants him to tell him he can stay. Franklin disappoints him with a fond chucked and another head rubbed through soft hair. "Go get that plate before your meemaw has a fit." Steve sighs and rolls his eyes watching Billy as he dutifully heads toward the kitchen.

Billy might laugh as the pretty boy trips over his own feet flushing and hurrying on his way if he wasn't aware that he is once more being left alone with an alpha. There is a wrap of knuckles on wood and Billy turns slowly, fear pricking for just a second before a homemade roll comes sliding in his direction.

"Tide you over ‘til Stevie comes back with that plate for you." Billy eyes the roll with apprehension, Franklin's lips pucker mustache twitching but he still doesn't smell angry. "Amelia makes 'em fresh each day. Go on eat, I know you're hungry." It is only when Franklin starts eating eyes on his own plate that Billy takes the roll and gobbles it up so quickly he hardly tastes it.

When Steve sets a plate in front of him Billy digs in with a mumble of thanks. 

The food and watching Steve go over to his grandfather pushing his way onto one of his knees and picking food off his plate, the alpha simply turning the plate so he has easier access to what he is after, has Billy a little more relaxed. Not that it is outwardly obvious.

Billy curls over his plate one arm around it like he is worried someone will take it because in his experience one mood swing means exactly that. He eats quickly almost as quickly as he devoured the roll just in case this is all some trick and the food is going to be ripped away from him.

Billy is not so absorbed in his food that he misses Steve moving off his grandpa’s lap and closer to him. He slows a little when the boy stops right next to him, close enough that even Billy’s dull nose can pick him up without trouble. Big brown eyes are watching him, the boy’s mouth pulled in a line as he frowns. "It's not going to run away from you."

"Stevie, don't go teasing the boy, he's had it hard." Franklin scolds, looking like he is trying not to laugh when Billy glances at him.

Steve was very serious, still serious as he turns a pout on Franklin, shoulder brushing Billy’s, "I wasn't teasing, I was stating a fact." Now Franklin’s biting his lip trying not to laugh at the attitude coming off the kid and it helps relax Billy.

Billy nudges his shoulder against Steve feeling brave with him right there, "It's good, you help make it?" 

Steve’s face pinches up, eyes narrowed as his scent goes sour, "why because I'm an omega?"

Billy shakes his head, own face scrunching up with that sourness curling in his nose, he doesn’t like it, "cuz you brought it out." 

Steve eyes him suspicious for a long few minutes before seeing something he likes. "Meemaw made it.” Steve’s scent goes back to a normal sweetness, as he huffs and rolls his eyes, “I'm not allowed to help with actual cooking, it isn't something I'm suited for."

Billy bobs his head still watching Steve, nudging the half a roll sitting on his napkin when he catches him eyeing it, "Guess you'll have to find someone who is suited to it."

Steve breaks a small piece off, mouth curling wide as he turns his full attention on Billy again, hip against the table, "you offering? You going to cook for me?" Steve grins, scent bright and Billy gulps unsure what to say to that. He has never met an omega like him.

Franklin is chuckling now, tossing a crumpled napkin at Steve to get his attention.  "Steven, go help your grandma with dessert and leave the kid alone."

“Fine,” Steve gives a long suffering sigh, “but she's going to be mad at you for it.” His hands fall to his hips as he points out, “you know she doesn't want me helping any more than I want to be helping."

Franklin nods but doesn’t budge, “think I'll live."

Steve gives another huffy little sigh, mouth pulled in a pout until he turns and sees Billy again, grinning at him, “bye Billy.” Shoulder dragging across Billy’s before he saunters out of the room.

Billy just blinks after him, fork half way up to his mouth. It is only when Franklin asks, "you good kid?" that Billy remembers to close his mouth as he lets the fork fall back towards the plate. 

His cheeks are warm as he curls a little tighter around his plate, looking at Franklin through his lashes, "uh, yes, I’m fine sir."

"Don't mind Stevie he likes to push,” Franklin waves his hand like he is trying to wave off Billy's renewed worry that he is in trouble, “only time he's allowed to be himself is when he's here. You'll get used to him." Overwhelming fondness fills the man's voice again, laughing as the echoes of an argument over what is and is not helping come from the kitchen.

Billy is pretty sure he will not get used to Steve but he thinks he might stay a while and find out.

-

Billy has been at the Harrington Ranch nearly a whole year now. The bunkhouse isn’t bad. Murray is a little loud and a little too intrusive for Billy’s taste but he mostly means well and the others yell at him if he pushes too many buttons. It is hard work but he is learning the ropes. Doing his best to become a cowboy and honestly enjoying most of it.

They are done for the day, the cattle that needed checking back out to pasture until something comes up and they need to be rounded up again. For now Billy sits under a tree near the house, and hears the cowboys hooting and hollering as someone cooks dinner and the rest of them poke fun at one another.

Suddenly out of nowhere there is a scent as the wind shifts, that sweet scent curling in his nose right before Steve sits down next to him on folded legs. "You're still around." He is close, knees touching, it is so close that Billy doesn’t need the wind to catch his scent.

It’s not really a question but Billy answers all the same, "Nowhere else for me to go."

Steve hums, and opens a little brown bag full of cookies, holding it in offer to Billy, "want a cookie?"

"You didn't make these did you?" Billy eyes them dubious, they look good, a nice golden brown and they smell even better but he remembers what was said about Steve in the kitchen. 

Steve scoffs, scent more amused than offended, "you think I'm spending my time making cookies for you?"

Billy grimaces, feeling a coil of shame at the implication, "Well no, I meant-"

Steve cuts him off with a laugh, smile amused as he holds the bag close to Billy again, "meemaw made them, they're still a little warm." They smell good but Steve’s delight at Billy’s stumbled attempt to correct what he meant smells even better.

Billy realizes he has been staring when he catches Steve watching him. Hard to turn his eyes away when the wind is blowing sweeping Steve’s hair to the side and the sun just starting to set catches his eyes and makes them fleck golden. Billy forces his gaze away, cheeks ruddy, "sure I'd like one."

Billy reaches for the bag a bit of anger seeping in when Steve pulls it back before he can grab one. "Magic word?" Steve asks before he can get too upset about this being some sort of trick.

He is teasing, Billy can do teasing, "abracadabra?"

Steve sucks his lips in for half a second before a laugh splits them, a pleasant thing, “No! Please, I meant please," Steve huffs and shakes his head.

"You offered it." Billy shrugs, trying to reach for them again, giving a playful low amalgamation of a growl, his vocal cords not made for the noise naturally.

Steve leans back arm stretching to keep the cookies away from Billy, using his free hand to poke him in the chest, "and then you offended me by insinuating I can't bake chocolate chip cookies so now you have to be polite if you want one."

Billy leans a little too far, hand bracing in the soft dirt quickly on either side of Steve's stomach lest he topple over the other boy. "You said you aren't allowed to cook." There is the creek of a door from the bunk house and Billy is aware of two of the cowboys coming out.

Steve hasn’t notice the two men now leaned up against the little porch railing watching them, eyes big as he insists, "cooking is different than baking,

"So you're a good baker?" Billy asks as he pushes back, flushing. It is just Murray and Alexi watching them but he is not looking forward to the teasing that will come of this. 

"Fuck no,” Steve pushes himself back up, folding his arms over his chest, nose up, “but you shouldn't assume."

Billy nods, supposing it is a bit rude of him to just assume. "Guess you'll have to find someone who can do that too."

Steve’s scent is warm as he leans in close, a lock of Billy's hair tickling his nose as the wind blows, “You offering?"

Billy chokes on nothing, turning wide eyes on Steve, "Do you want me to be offering?"

Steve has a laughing smile on his pretty lips, "I don't know yet.” He gets a tad more serious scent getting even warmer as he moves close enough their shoulders are pressed together. He gives a little shrug and drops his head against Billy’s shoulder. “Maybe someday when I get to know ya better."

Billy’s never thought about the future, never thought he had one but he is not caught in Neil’s snare anymore. He is here with the cowboys and the Harrington’s and it has only been a year but he already knows no one is waiting to squash him under their boot. For the first time in forever Billy thinks about what could be. 

Billy lets his head drop against Steve’s ignoring the uptick of Alexei and Murray’s conversation no doubt about them and holds a hand out rustling up some manors. “May I please have a cookie,” Billy can’t see the grin but he can smell Steve’s delight as he pulls a cookie from the bag and presses it into Billy’s palm. 

Billy really likes the sound of maybe.

- End