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Five hours. It had been five hours since Nascosta had started his first heat after joining the team, and already they were starting to get worried. And by ‘they’, Abbacchio meant Bucciarati of course. And Cecilia, but she was always concerned about her companion, the two were practically attached at the hip. No one else was too concerned, though. Fugo, Narancia, and Giorno had been out all day at the arcade, the albino only going because the rowdier teen had looked awfully pathetic giving him puppy eyes and the blonde tagging along because Fugo was going. That, and the three had wanted to spend some time away from Mista.
That’s what Abbacchio assumed, anyways. The alpha always had a strong, musky scent about him, but he was mindful enough to shower and at least attempt to keep it contained. With Cecilia around, though? He had been a bit more mindless. The woman seemingly loved his scent to pieces and so he was loathe to get rid of it or even try to make it duller. Much to the chagrin of the rest of the team, of course. While Cecilia relished in it, the rest of them spent their time trying to air the place out. It had gotten to the point where even Giorno, normally quiet and rather withdrawn had made an offhanded comment to Bucciarati about speeding up the basement renovation to contain the mingled alpha and omega scents of the pairing somewhere that no one else had to be subjected to it.
“He’s fine, Bruno. He presented years ago and Cecilia said he’s been in heat before. He knows what to do.”
Abbacchio attempted to reassure his partner, gently nuzzling the gland on his neck. The both of them had retreated to their room to once again escape the oppressive musk that was usually associated with an alpha in rut, but instead was literally just Mista. It was quieter in there and gave the two a chance to think. Or, more accurately, it gave Abbacchio a place to comfort his partner and help him calm down away from the rest of the team. They were sweet and though Bucciarati loved all of his ‘kids’ to pieces, they weren’t always the best when it came to helping him calm down. A lot of the time, they accidentally freaked him out further. Because his distress fed into the distress of the teens and then that just further fed into his own distress. That’s why Abbacchio had isolated the two of them, though it wasn’t necessarily helping. Bucciarati was still stressed, his normally soft and comforting scent sharpening to reflect that fact.
“I know, Leone. I know. But still… I’m worried. His scent is off. The only time I’ve ever smelt that was when Giorno had his first heat around us too.”
The younger man rubbed his face, scenting his partner back. Bucciarati relaxed as he breathed in the calming lavender he cherished so much, mingling with his own vanilla and sea salt. Of course he was worried, that was his job. And while yes, he had already been there to help Cecilia and Giorno with their first heats around the team, this one felt different. Giorno didn’t really have anyone he wanted to be around while he isolated himself, but Bucciarati had been able to check in on him every now and again to make sure he was staying healthy. Besides, he was somehow completely prepared, despite the fact he was presenting for the first time. He had already nested and stocked up on a cooler of snacks and beverages. Cecilia had simply stayed in her and Mista’s room for the short duration of her heat.
Having a partner always helped it pass quicker, but Cecilia’s had only lasted for a record 18 hours. Which was beneficial, in a way, but had also forced the team to come to the conclusion that next time she went into heat or Mista hit his rut, they were staying in a hotel. With noise cancelling. Just for everyone else’s sanity. Nascosta, on the other hand, had admitted upfront to having heats that were few and far between. Likely due to the hormone imbalance caused by his testosterone, but the team didn’t really have any experience in the matter. Bucciarati and Abbacchio had tried to find books and papers about it just so he could understand the man better, but any information was scarce and hidden. And what he had been able to dig up so far had been awfully judgmental and contradictory. Some said taking HRT made heats more spaced out but more intense, others said it caused frequent, mild heats. Some said it eliminated them completely, but that was clearly wrong, at least in this case. There wasn’t much good information, it seemed.
“Leone…”
“No, Bruno. I already know what you’re going to say.”
Bucciarati sighed and slumped back against his partner’s chest, eyebrows furrowing in defeat. His partner already knew what he was going to ask: go check on Nascosta. The man had always been a bit closed off since they had gotten him and Cecilia out of the cathouse, not even opening up after they had made sure his old capo could never find him. He had never told them why he had ended up in Passione or even why he wouldn’t return to Venice – other than the possibility of his capo finding him, of course. They had barely been able to pry his actual name out of him, and even then, it had only been given after the man had gotten completely wasted, and the next morning he had threatened to kill them if they told anyone else.
“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was truly worried. I’m serious. I’m worried about him.”
Sighing, Abbacchio pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, the distress present in Nascosta’s scent hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He usually smelled slightly of pomegranate, covering it mostly with scent patches. The taller man wasn’t unfamiliar with the method, having utilized it himself before he got a firm grasp of his pheromones and usually in tandem with supressants. Though after dating Bucciarati, he didn't take them anymore. Because of that, though, smelling the overwhelming odor of fruit creeping out from under the door of his room was unnerving. It was like an amplified version of his usual scent, but Bruno was right. There really was something off about it that Abbacchio simply hadn’t been able to put his finger on earlier. It was almost sour, taking on a too-sweet, sickly tinge that shot a pang of unease through his stomach when he got a whiff.
Of course, he had only smelt it in the first hour or two of Nascosta’s heat. The man had stuffed towels under the door in an attempt to be ‘polite’. He had texted Bucciarati as much upon being questioned. And while it was certainly a very mindful act, especially with most of the team complaining constantly about Mista stinking up the place, it also set off alarm bells. Almost like Nascosta was trying to hide something. Like he knew that if they smelled it for long enough, they’d figure out something was wrong. Which was exactly why Abbacchio knew he couldn’t deny Bruno this. Especially since he was pulling that look.
“…fine. Fine, I’ll check on him. But if I’m correct and he’s fine, then you’re buying me a bottle of Cab.”
A sigh of relief left Bruno’s mouth as well as a quiet ‘thank you’, causing Abbacchio’s expression to soften. He wasn’t a sap, truly he wasn’t. He just cared about his partner was all, and Abbacchio would do anything to make sure he was always relaxed. So if that meant packing food for the younger members on a mission or sometimes checking up on them in the middle of the night, then he would do it. If only to avoid the sharp bite of Bucciarati’s scent when he was stressed. So, Abbacchio gently removed his partner from his lap, shuffling off the bed and cracking his back. It should be a simple mission. Check Nascosta, tell him that he needed to text Bucciarati more, go back to snuggling after his partner got him a brand new bottle of wine. It sounded fairly easy, so he wasn’t too worried.
“Nascosta? You still alright in there?”
The goth knocked softly on his teammate’s door, one hand perched on his hip as he raised an eyebrow. He expected some sort of quiet response, like a ‘yeah’ or even a ‘go away’. After all, omegas did often got stressed and snappy during their heat, especially younger ones. Abbacchio himself knew that well and often isolated to just himself and Bucciarati during his own to keep from lashing out at the team more than he already did. And Nascosta had seemingly settled for something similar, completely isolating himself even from Cecilia. Knowing his past, it made sense he wouldn’t want to be around any alphas or even betas. But denying his closest friend - an omega at that - was strange. Almost as strange as the soft whines and strangled hiccupping that greeted him instead of a verbal response. Alright… maybe his partner was correct.
“Oi. Nascosta. Answer me, what’s wrong?”
There was complete silence on the other side of the door as he knocked again, a bit more insistent this time. His teammate had never been one to ignore others, always at least mustering a simple, one word answer. But he had gone completely silent when pressed for an answer this time. Almost completely silent, Abbacchio could still hear his strained pants and occasional whimpers of pain that he couldn’t quite manage to stifle. And all of that was concerning. As his partner had said, something was off, this wasn’t how someone normally handled a heat, especially not only a handful of hours in. Which meant that he would probably have to go in there, as much as he had wanted to avoid that.
“…Nascosta, if you won’t answer me I’m coming in.”
Tactful? No. Abbacchio was never really one for soft words of encouragement, that was Bucciarati’s job. But for now, bringing him into this was out of the question. Bringing an alpha around an omega in heat was just asking for trouble on both ends; the out of control pheromones of Nascosta’s heat would have at least a mild effect on Bruno, more likely an extreme one. That, and he couldn’t imagine Nascosta being all that comfortable with him showing up uninvited, either. His scent already had the distinct tang of stress, even if dampened by the towels blocking the crack in the door. Bringing an alpha into an omega’s room while they were in heat would make things worse in a normal situation. Considering Nascosta’s trauma? It would practically be a death wish. That, or it would put back up the walls that they had so carefully worked on breaking down.
This made Abbacchio the only other option. He was an omega, his scent probably wouldn’t set his teammate on edge. And sure, there were two other omegas in the house that he could have pawned this off on. But Giorno was 16, so he was automatically out of the question. And Cecilia might have been the closest person on the team to Nascosta, but she wasn’t known for her emotional stability. Honestly, Abbacchio had a feeling that whatever was about to strike him when he opened the door would be a wall of oppressive, emotion-filled scent and pheromones. She would likely be unable to handle that without crying, which was the last thing a distressed omega in heat needed. Though at least unlike Mista, Nascosta’s scent was pleasant.
“I’m coming in.”
Calling out again, Abbacchio managed to take the spare key from above the frame and open the door. Was he invading Nascosta’s privacy? Most certainly. But he didn’t have many choices here. He could either leave the omega alone to continue on with whatever misery he was putting himself through and risk Bucciarati taking it into his own hands, or he could suck it up and do it himself. And while he hated that he was putting himself and Nascosta in this situation, it would be worse for everyone with an alpha involved.
Abbacchio cracked the door open carefully, nose wrinkling slightly as he was immediately assaulted by the scent of an omega in heat. So much for HRT making it less intense... it was as potent as any other heat, maybe even more potent than most. And that was already worrying, because a really strong heat could cause a really high fever. And if that was happening, Nascosta might end up needing medical attention. Curse Bruno for being correct… the goth carefully shuffled into the room, shutting the door behind him so that the rest of the house wouldn’t be exposed. And the sight he was greeted with was less than pleasant. Worrying, even.
“What the hell..?”
In the middle of the floor was Nascosta, curled in on himself in a fetal position. That in and of itself would be distressing, but his face was flushed and splotchy, slick with sweat and screwed up into a pained expression. His hair was splayed out on the floor around him, already slightly tangled with strands clinging to the skin of his cheeks and forehead. One arm drew his knees closer to his chest while the other held a clamped hand over his mouth, stifling the shaking sounds of his whimpering. He looked far from okay. Honestly, he looked like he was going to overheat and pass out. At least he was trying, dressed in a loose tank top and shorts in hopes of alleviating some of the heat sweltering under his skin. But it wouldn’t be enough, Abbacchio knew that. He had been through more than enough heats to know how to handle it.
One of the more pressing things, though, was the state of the omega’s room. It was clean. Strikingly, worryingly clean. Not a single sheet or pillow or paper on his desk was out of it’s normally neat and tidy place, almost as if he hadn’t even touched it. Abbacchio wasn’t one to dog on someone for neatness, he envied the man, actually. But during a heat? It struck him then that Nascosta was still on the bare floor. Floor nesting wasn’t exactly an unheard of thing, it was all up to personal preference. But there was no nest there. There was no nest in the room at all. Again, it looked completely untouched, which was strange. Cecilia had said Nascosta had gone through heats before, so why did it look like he didn’t have a single clue on what to do?
“’Bacchio..?”
Nascosta’s strained voice broke the taller man out of his thoughts, spurring him into action. He quickly walked over, dropping to a knee beside Nascosta and meeting hazy, grey eyes with his own plum-gold. He honestly looked like he was going through his first heat, scared and more out of it than he should be. And the way he looked at him, hand still loosely covering his mouth and brows scrunched in worry, settled a pit in Abbacchio’s stomach. His teammate had never looked so helpless before. Even when he was scared, he had seemed like he had a plan. But at the moment, he just looked outright terrified. The scent in the room did change slightly, however, the previously sour notes smoothing out to blend back into his normal sweet smell. Like Abbacchio’s presence had somehow calmed him down.
“Yeah, It’s me… where’s your nest? You shouldn’t be laying on the floor, it’ll make the cramps worse.”
Despite his usually harsh demeanor, Abbacchio managed a bit of a softer tone. Maybe he had simply nested in the closet? Nascosta was always one for privacy, so it figured he would build his nest somewhere like that. Especially since it obviously wasn’t on his bed, given that the sheets were crisp and flat. That wasn’t a nest, it couldn’t be. Though maybe the nest was under the bed? Again, that wasn’t Abbacchio’s first choice of places, he preferred to pile things on his and Bruno’s bed until he could bury himself in it, but Nascosta was his own person. Though the confusion spreading over the younger man’s face only caused more concern.
“…I…”
“…you don’t have a nest.”
His response was less of a question and more of a sighed statement, hand rubbing down his face as he tried to think things through. That might explain some of why his teammate was struggling: he had decided to go through his heat curled up on the hardwood floor with zero nest and zero comfort. Cramps were never great, but they were always worse in conditions like these. And for good reason, most omegas had nest building instincts by nature, they usually got the urge to build some sort of structure or comfortable place to stay when they first presented. Of course, building a good nest took practice and a little directing or research, depending on if there were other omegas someone could rely on to teach them. If Nascosta didn’t have a nest, either he lacked the instincts to build it, lacked the guidance needed to know how to build one or even that he needed to, or had been taught in one way or another that he wasn’t allowed to nest. It could be a combination of those factors and none of them were particularly great to think about.
“Come on.”
Nascosta hesitated, looking at Abbacchio’s hand as he stretched it out towards him. The taller man was almost sure that he wouldn’t take it at all, telling him to leave and shutting him out like he had so many times before. And again, he wouldn’t have blamed him. But some small part of him held out hope that his teammate would let him help. Because he knew how miserable heats could be, even without the shitty conditions. Laying on the floor and trying to sweat it out couldn’t have been comfortable. Was this what he always did? Tried to find the coldest spot on the floor and curled up, working through all of the pain and discomfort by himself?
A sigh of relief left Abbacchio’s lips as the other omega shakily took his hand, getting to his feet. He was shaky and unstable, almost falling over until Abbacchio caught him. Nascosta’s skin was burning up, sticky with a sheen of sweat. It had only been a few hours, how had it gotten this bad? Was this always what he dealt with? The goth shook the thoughts aside, guiding the other omega over to the bed and helping him settle down on the edge of it. He didn’t miss the look of concerned disdain that crossed Nascosta’s face at the wrinkling of the sheets, offering a quiet tut in response. He was starting to lean towards the ‘learned behavior’ explanation for why all of this was happening.
“I’m going to assume you’ve never built a nest before?”
“No. No, I never… I don’t know what that is.”
It wasn’t unexpected, but it was still disappointing. Though at the same time, it stirred a pang of guilt in Abbacchio’s chest. Seriously, no one had taught Nascosta how to nest or even what it was? His previous capo had been an alpha, that much was clear the moment the pompous bastard had walked through the team’s door. So clearly, he never would have taught Nascosta what he needed to know. But Cecilia was an omega and seemed to know what nesting was. According to Mista, she turned their bed into a certified fortress every time her heat got near and sometimes even outside of it. And she and Nascosta were attached at the hip. Had she not taught him? Of course she hadn’t, they hadn’t had access to any sort of nesting materials when they were working for the cathouse. And from the sound of it, Nascosta had left home before any sort of parent could teach him. So now, it was up to Abbacchio. Which was exactly what he was dreading.
“First, you’re going to want to find the most comfortable place to lay down. Which I’m gonna guess is your bed. And since it’s against the wall, that makes our life easier…”
The younger omega obliged, curling up on his side again with his back against the wall. He was still tense and grimaced at the occasional waves of cramps. But at least he seemed a bit more comfortable on the bed than on the floor. Even if he looked guilty at wrinkling the sheets or getting small droplets of sweat on them, a tired frown crossing his face. Abbacchio knew that this would turn into another conversation once Nascosta’s heat was over, likely one that brought Bucciarati into it too. This sort of behavior was abnormal and frankly concerning and he knew tat trying to lie to Bucciarati about it wouldn’t work. And of course the team’s leader would be worried about all of it.
“And then you just sort of… nest? I usually just… pile blankets and pillows and stuff. Sometimes omegas like to add things from the people they’re close with, too. It’s meant to be ‘comforting’ or whatever.”
Abbacchio sighed, tugging the edges of the sheets out from where they had been tucked under the bed and starting to push them inwards, forming a sort of border in a semi-circle around Nascosta. The younger omega simply watched for a moment, observing what he was doing before cautiously adjusting some of the blankets as well to be a little bit closer to himself. He had no clue what he was doing, but the walls being closer to himself felt safer, so that’s how he adjusted it. Abbacchio noticed that his scent wasn’t so overwhelming anymore. It was still strong, being that he was in heat, but it no longer had that sharp, sour tinge to it that indicated distress. It was softer. Calmer. Sweeter.
“Here… have this. I can go get something of Cecilia’s if you want it, too.”
It was winter by that point and Abbacchio had thrown a sweater on over top of his shirt to try and keep out the chill that sunk into the old, uninsulated house. He now tugged that sweater off and held it out to Nascosta, who looked suspiciously at the taller omega for a moment. It was an absent minded gesture on Abbacchio’s end, some sort of instinctual reaction to the fact that Nascosta had barely any nesting material and seemed distressed to be so out of his element. That would probably come up in the talk he’d have to have with Bucciarati about this later, but that wasn’t an immediate solution. The sweater was soft, that’s why he had bought it in the first place, and it would make a great addition and hopefully offer some sense of comfort in the immediate future. It was also an unusual gesture, though, because Abbacchio wasn’t one to share. And he couldn’t fully explain why he did it, either, but he filed that thought away for later consideration.
After a moment of deliberation, Nascosta took the article of clothing with a quiet ‘thank you’. He was quick to place it near his head, slowly breathing in the scent. The very action, even if it was rather inconspicuous in nature, caused Abbacchio’s stomach to flip. He had never really given his clothes to anyone on the team before except his partner and he had never really thought that he would. But he had just given a sweater to Nascosta to add to his nest of all things and the omega was practically burying his face in it. It smelled mostly of lavender, Abbacchio’s scent, which was calming. Though it mingled with the warm vanilla and salt scent of Bucciarati, dregs leftover from when they had been scenting each other earlier. Something about both scents felt divinely right in Nascosta’s head. Not just apart – though they were wonderful apart, don’t get him wrong – but also together. He let out a deep sigh, eyes falling closed as he practically curled himself around the sweater like a cat, an action that caused Abbacchio’s face to burst out red under his foundation.
“…Let me know if you need anything.”
It was an easy way to excuse himself so he could process… all of that. He still wasn’t sure why he had been so willing to hand over the sweater, especially one that he had been wearing, and he was even less sure why it got to him so much that Nascosta had immediately taken in the scent of it like a man starved. His scent. His and Bruno’s. It seemed intimate, almost, and he truly didn’t know how to feel about that. So all he could do was shut the door gently behind him, lightheaded as he took a breath of fresh air, no longer walled by Nascosta’s pheromones. Though… Abbacchio almost found himself missing it.