Archive of Our Own

Arthur's heat had lasted three more waves and it was almost thirty-six hours before he broke through the heat haze and allowed George to leave him. George kept wearing Arthur’s clothes in between the waves and Arthur hadn't understood until George had left but his scent remained on his clothes. He tried not to think about what he was doing as he dotted each item of clothing that George’s scent clung to on his bed, tucked under his duvet and pillows. He knew, deep down, he was building his first nest, his omegan instincts kicking in without his suppressants. 

He tried not to think about it too much. 

Arthur Hill invited him to a Platform Roulette two weeks later and he couldn't say no. He bought a scent blocker roll on and covered his scent glands with it. He couldn’t suppress his inner omega but he could at least try and stop smelling like one. 

He was late, as usual, and he paused as he saw George, Chris and Arthur Hill waiting for him. He squared his shoulders and put on his best smile in an attempt to cover his unease. George had promised not to tell anyone, but it still made him wary to be around two alphas and a beta, even if they were his best friends. 

“Finally! Don't look at the board, pick a number between one and nine,” Hill told him. 

“Umm… four,” Arthur hesitated for a moment then responded, plucking the number from thin air. 

“Four, so we are going to…” Hill roving his gaze around the boards until he located four, “Nottingham! Alright, we have not a lot of time, so let's go get tickets.”

After stopping to get a meal deal and drinks for the train, they boarded at platform four, having to rush due to Arthur’s tardiness. Hill and Chris fell into seats next to each other on the train, leaving Arthur to press in next to George. The smell of cinnamon wafted his direction but was more muted out of his heat, but it was there all the same. Arthur felt like he had unlocked an entirely new side of the world he had not had access to while suppressing his inner omega.

George gave him a puzzled look and took his phone out, tapping away until Arthur's phone buzzed. 

Why can't I smell you, did your suppressants come back into stock?

Arthur typed back a quick reply not yet. I've used a scent blocker

George frowned at his phone and put it away, taking the can of drink offered to him and passing Arthur's over as well. Their fingers brushed and George caught his eye for a brief moment before Arthur looked away, engaging Hill in a ramble about planets he had learned from his latest podcast listen. 

It was a long train ride, but by the time they reached Nottingham Arthur had almost let himself forget he was an omega, much less one that had shared a heat with the attractive alpha sitting next to him; he had fallen into easy conversations with his friends, just like always. 

They hit up a Spoons first, planning to explore after they had a few drinks in them. 

“So, George,” Chris, a smug look appearing on his face, started after tipping back a shot of sambuca, “Are you ever going to tell us about the omega you knotted two weeks ago?”

Arthur’s head shot up in alarm and his eyes went wide. George, quickly sensing his distress, grabbed his leg under the table and squeezed his thigh briefly before letting go and turning his attention to Chris.

“Not much to say really, his Tinder profile said he was due a heat and didn’t want to spend it alone, you know how much I love being a gentleman and helping a needy omega in a crisis,” George’s smile was coy and teasing.

Arthur’s gut twisted at the thought and he wondered just how many omegas like him George had taken, how many omegas he’d scented and told them they smelled good. How many had he knotted? His omega, dissatisfied with the thought, hissed in displeasure.

Hill’s eye roll pulled Arthur out of his melancholy, “Must be such a tragedy to be such a knothead, eh Arthur?” Hill directed the question towards him and Arthur had to remind himself he was a beta to almost everyone at the table.

“Oh yeah, must be awful,” Arthur slowly agreed as he took a swig of his beer, “Glad I don’t have that problem, at least we’re not as controlled by our dicks and a whiff of an omega.”

Chris chimed in,“I would say, omegas have it the worst though,” He paused in thought before continuing, “At least we can get through a rut on our own, unmedicated omegas are basically helpless without an alpha around, especially now with that suppressant shortage.”

Arthur’s eartips burned, “Yeah must suck, I’d much rather be a beta.” He downed the rest of his drink and hastily put his glass down. “Going to piss, back in a minute,” He stood up and went to walk away.

“Wait up, I’ll come with,” George called after him, following behind.

Arthur didn’t glance back but didn’t object, keeping his head up as he walked into the bathroom, holding the door for George then walking wordlessly to a urinal. The silence was suffocating as the sound of both men pissing filled the room. Arthur pushed up his sleeves and went to wash his hands and George, despite the many empty basins in the room, stood next to him, copying his actions. 

Arthur sighed, drying his hands off on a paper towel. He threw the crumpled tissue in the bin and went to walk out the door without acknowledging George’s presence, when George’s hand shot out to grab his wrist, stopping him short. Arthur’s eyes flashed up to George’s, who brought Arthur’s wrist to his nose.

“You must have washed off some of your scent blocker,” George stated, gently letting go of Arthur’s wrist.

“Shit,” Arthur clutched his wrist and panic filled his eyes as he turned his gaze to George, “Chris and Hill… I don’t want them to know.”

“Did you bring extra with you?”

“Yeah but it’s in my bag at the table.”

George thought for a moment then pulled the collar of his jumper to the side, “Rub it on my scent gland, we can say we were rough housing if anyone questions why you smell like me. Put your blocker on next chance you get.”

Arthur hesitated but rubbed his soft inner wrist over George’s neck slowly, letting the alpha’s scent cover his own.

“Thanks,” Arthur’s voice was a little sad as he turned his gaze to the ground, “I’m not good at being an omega.”

“You’re doing fine, even if I do wish you weren’t wearing any blocker at all.” Arthur sharply looked up at George’s comment.

Arthur blushed and looked away again, pulling his sleeves back down and turning towards the door again.

“Arthur,” George called, stopping him again. He turned with a questioning look. “We should talk, later.”

Arthur hesitantly nodded and George pulled the door open for him, allowing the omega to step through first.

Arthur sneakily managed to apply his blocker the next time Chris and Hill went up for a round of drinks, and his inner omega was pitiful as he covered the scent of an alpha. George didn’t look overly pleased either, even though he helpfully held Arthur’s bag for him while he applied the roll-on. 

They carried on with their day full of adventure, and Arthur was happy blending in with the lads, the drink going to his head and making him relax more. He was walking past a bedding shop when a plush deep blue blanket caught his eye. It looked incredibly soft, making him pause in his tracks. He fidgeted for a split second before losing the fight with his inner omega and dipping inside the shop. George frowned and followed him, telling the others they would catch up.

“Arthur? Why did you come in here?” George asked as he followed him around the shop, Arthur making a beeline for the blankets. He didn’t get a reply, following Arthur’s longing gaze until he spotted what had captivated him. “The blue blanket?” He asked and Arthur nodded. “It looks nice.”

Arthur took his eyes off it finally and looked at George in question, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” George pulled it from the shelf and ran his hand over the material, “It’s very lush.”

Arthur was having an internal battle with himself, he didn’t need the blanket, but he wanted it so badly.

“I’ll get it for you,” George, taking in Arthur’s indecision, decided for him, and it was now his turn to lead the way through the store to the checkout.

“You don’t have to do that,” Arthur tried to protest but George had already handed the blanket over to the cashier and was pulling his wallet out.

“I want to. Turn around so I can put it in your bag.”

Arthur did as he was bid and turned, his bag being jostled as George pushed the blue covering in and zipped the backpack back up.

“There, let’s go catch up, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They spent the rest of the day exploring Nottingham Castle and The City of Caves, with a pitstop to a pub called Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem.

“Arthur, do you want to stay at our place tonight? You look pretty drunk, mate,” Hill asked when they were back on the train.

Arthur couldn’t help the quick glance he threw across the table at George, who gave the tiniest nod.

“Yeah, you guys have a comfy sofa, that would be nice, thanks.” He didn't actually feel overly drunk, buzzed and tipsy perhaps but not as far gone as he had been in previous videos.

The rest of the journey was quiet as they all decompressed after the day, Arthur’s brain hummed lightly with the drink. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, letting the thrum of the train lull him into a light doze.

He was woken by Chris’ hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, “We’re stopping, time to wake up.”

Arthur stretched his arms above his head and wiped his eyes, grabbing his backpack from under the table.

The group stood up and made their way to the doors of the train as it slowed. Arthur swayed with the motions of the train but a careful hand on his shoulder kept him steady. “You okay?” George whispered in his ear.

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment to decide how to respond then nodded, “Just tipsy, like everyone else.”

George laughed at that, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze then letting go, “Luckily we all live close by, isn’t it?”

They chatted as they walked, their last cans of drink clutched in their hands. Arthur had slowly drifted next to George, their arms gently brushing and Arthur found he didn't mind the contact. 

Hill unlocked the door to their shared flat and they all filtered in laughing at each other as they stumbled and removed their shoes. 

“I'll go and get you a spare blanket and a pillow, Arthur,” Hill told him, disappearing down the hall. 

“I'm absolutely done in,” Chris yawned, then headed to his room as he bid them goodnight. 

Arthur took his backpack off and sank down on the sofa, before having to sit back up to put his bag on the floor. He looked up to see George leaning against a wall and staring intently at him. 

“Wha-” 

“Here you go mate,” Hill interrupted him, coming back with a spare duvet and two pillows, handing them over to Arthur. “Do you need anything else?” 

Arthur shook his head, “No this is great, thank you.” He lay the two pillows against the arm of the sofa and started fluffing out the duvet, his omega trying to direct him to nest with the freely given materials. 

“Alright, good night guys.” Hill replied as he started heading down the hall to his room.

Arthur was left alone with a pensive George again, who was chewing on a fingernail. 

“Are you not going to bed, George?” Arthur questioned with a tilt of his head, not wanting to lay down yet, it felt rude to ignore the alpha staring at him in silence. 

George took his hand away from his mouth. “I am… but I'd rather you come with me, please.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to protest but George continued on, his voice quiet. “I'd rather not leave you out here vulnerable where another alpha might find you.”

“You mean where Chris might find me?” 

George looked away as he nodded his head and huffed out, “Yeah.”

Arthur, a bit baffled at the request and the entire situation, “I've stayed over loads, it's never been a problem.” 

George rolled his eyes at the naivety lacing Arthur’s tone , “That was before. I won't make you, but I'll struggle to sleep if I'm worrying about you and your blocker wearing off during the night.” 

Arthur took a moment to ponder the request and George’s perspective, and decided to rely on George’s experience before he sighed and grabbed his bag, standing up, “You're probably right.” 

“I've been playing this game longer than you have, kid,” was George’s response laced with a slight laugh.

“I'm three years older than you,” Arthur deadpanned but closely followed George to his room. As they neared the doorway, his instincts stopped him just outside the bedroom without conscious thought. The scent of cinnamon and something more primal hit him all at once, overwhelming his newly tender sense of smell. 

George turned to him, “You can enter my den, I'm not a threat to you, you'll be safe in here,” he softly reassured the frozen omega. 

Arthur, deciding to be brave, dipped his head and stepped in the alpha’s den. 

“Do you mind washing your blocker off? You can use the sink in my en suite, I just don't want it on my sheets.” 

Arthur turned over the request in his head but decided it made sense with George’s seeming distaste of scent blockers; he always forgot just how proud of his nature George was. He dropped his bag at the foot of the bed and headed to the en suite. He swiftly removed his hoodie and t-shirt to comply with the alpha’s request and scrubbed roughly over the scent glands either side of his neck and wrists with the washcloth by the sink, taking time to thoroughly ensure every trace of blocker was removed. 

When he emerged, he saw his new blanket laid out on George's bed, the duvet pulled down and folded at the foot of the bed. 

“I thought maybe you could take it home with my scent on it,” George hastily confessed, sounding a bit more drunk than Arthur felt. 

“Seems a bit presumptuous, really,” but Arthur didn't remove the blanket, choosing instead to carefully remove his jeans and socks while under George’s stare, leaving him clad only in his boxers. He tentatively climbed under the plush blanket and sighed at how wonderful it felt on his bare skin. 

George watched him closely then disappeared into the bathroom as well, returning in just his boxers, matching the level of bareness Arthur chose. Arthur's eyes closed at the sight of George and he heard the soft flick of the lamp being turned off and felt the bed dip. 

“You chose a lovely blanket,” George quietly praised, and Arthur could feel the puffs of his breath on his face and the scent of cinnamon became richer. 

Arthur was quiet for a moment then picked up the courage to ask the question he'd been dying to know the answer to. “George?” George hummed back to show he was listening. “What umm, what do I smell like? To you?” 

George thickly swallowed as he paused before answering, “You know the Lady Grey tea bags? The ones that have orange and lemon in them? You remind me of a cup of milky Lady Grey,” George shifted a tiny bit closer and his voice lowered an octave, “When you're in heat your scent gets sweeter, like you've been dipped in honey.”

Arthur rolled onto his tummy, pressing his face into the pillow as he groaned in embarrassment at the mention of his heat. 

George chuckled and ran a soothing hand along Arthur's side as he inquired, “You must be less than two weeks away from your next one… got any plans?” 

“Yeah maybe I'll put it on my Tinder bio,” Arthur's voice snapped. It had more bite to it than he had intended but the memory of George bragging about helping omegas through their heats came back to him and he allowed himself the moment of spite. He turned his back to George and curled up on himself as the thought of the earlier conversation came back to him. 

“Don't be like that,” George followed his movements and slid an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him back easily before explaining, “You know I only said that to protect you.” 

The hand was annoyingly soothing, the heat of George's chest calming against his back. 

George sighed when Arthur didn't respond, “We should have that talk in the morning.” 

“Yeah, we should,” Arthur mumbled his agreement, laying his hand over George’s, “Tired just now though.” 

George nosed into the back of Arthur's hair as he pulled in deep breaths of his scent, “Sleep sounds good, night Arth.” 

“Night, George.”

Arthur was abruptly woken far too early by noise from outside of George's bedroom and an arm pulled tight around his middle. George was breathing hard against his shoulder as Arthur became aware of the long line of heat along his back. 

“Chris, go back in your room and let me deal with it, do not make me lock you in there.” The voice was stern and laced with frustration. It took Arthur’s groggy brain a moment to connect that it was Hill and that he was right outside. 

“What's goi-,” George's hand over his mouth silenced him. 

“Shit, shh, don't say anything,” George whispered as a frustrated growl came from the hallway shortly followed by a door slamming shut. 

There was a moment of silence before a piercing knock at the bedroom door caused Arthur to jump, putting his body closer to George. 

“George, can I come in? Chris is in his room but he's pretty fucking heated.” 

George slowly brought his hand away from Arthur's mouth caressing his skin as he went, “I'm sorry, Arth,” George whispered and turned away from the omega to sit up on the bed, leaning to turn on the bedside lamp. 

With a sigh George replied,“Yeah come in.” 

Arthur pulled the comforting blanket closer and sat up as well, keeping himself pressed against George. Something felt off about the situation, his inner omega was alert and on edge. 

Hill quickly stepped in and closed the door, staring at the scene of them both that met him before turning to glare at George. A strong waft of pine filtered in through the door before it was shut.

“You're a fucking idiot,” Hill spat out as he pointed an accusatory finger at George.

“How am I an idiot?!” was the defensive reply from George, who sat up further in bed.

“You brought an omega,” Hill tore his gaze from George to point a finger at Arthur before continuing, “Also what the fuck?” His eyes flashed back to George, “Into our flat when you know Chris always goes into rut eight days after you!”

“You were in a rut eight days ago?” Arthur asked in surprise while turning to face George; he couldn't help the pang of hurt in his voice at that revelation. A distant part of himself he didn’t want to acknowledge had hoped that George would have at least contemplated calling him. A stupid part of him had wanted the chance to return the favour. 

George draped an arm across Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him closer again while flatly stating, “Mine was seven days ago, he must have started a day early.” 

“Not really the time to be pedantic, George,” Hill pointed out, “Arthur, you need to go. You should probably head out for a bit too, George.” 

George nodded and released his hold on Arthur, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Arthur followed suit, then pulled his clothes over his slightly trembling limbs. 

“Put your scent blocker on,” George told Arthur quietly. 

They got ready in silence, George helping Arthur to fold up his new blanket and put it in his bag. Chris stayed in his room, thankfully. 

Once outside the flat Arthur just stood still, unsure what to do with himself in the situation he found himself in. He'd only been off suppressants for little over a month and he was already having to flee in the face of an alpha in rut. It only served to remind him that events like this are part of the reason he had used suppressants so religiously.

“You okay?” George asked, his eyes searching Arthur's troubled face. 

Arthur looked at the ground and just shook his head. 

“Let me take you home,” George offered and pulled out his phone to call an Uber. 

Arthur's head was a swirling mess of thoughts as he rode in the taxi; he was incredibly tired for someone who had just woken. He clutched his backpack to his chest and rested his head on it hoping to hide from the situation. He watched through his lashes as George chewed his nails, looking equally as lost in his thoughts. 

When the taxi stopped, George didn't move. 

Arthur looked at him expectantly, “Are you coming up or what?” 

“Do you want me to?” George responded as he turned his eyes to Arthur, leaving the choice up to Arthur. 

“You said we could talk,” Arthur's voice was waverly small; truthfully he didn't even want to have the conversation they had been avoiding, but he knew it was important for both of them to clear the air. 

They begrudgingly made their way up to Arthur's flat, Arthur letting them in and immediately took his new blanket out of his bag and beelined to his bedroom, where he lovingly spread it out on his bed, putting his duvet on top of it. He stood still as he took in the sight of his bed, his nest; the varying sized bumps of clothing still visible at the edges of the mattress not even fully covered by the duvet. It looked very appealing but he tore himself away, closing the door behind him. 

George was already sitting on his sofa, flicking through his phone. 

“Anything from Hill or Chris?” Arthur asked, toeing off his shoes and sitting firmly in the opposite corner from George with his knees pulled up. 

“Just Hill asking for an explanation. We probably won't hear from Chris until he's out his rut.” 

Arthur groaned and buried his face into his palms, “I don't want to have to explain anything! And even when my suppressants come back, it won't matter, you'll all still know what I am.” 

“What you are,” George started, meeting his eyes and reaching out to place his hand on Arthur's knee, “Is our friend. First and foremost, past all the other shit, the guys won't care that you're an omega. They'll want an answer why you've hidden it for so long, but that is completely your right. They won't reject you, you're part of our pack.” George gave Arthur's knee a squeeze then let go returning his hands to his lap. 

Arthur's hands dropped limply to his lap and he searched across George’s face, finding no trace of a lie. “Are you sure?” He asked regardless. The fear of the worst outcome required reassurance. 

“I'm sure, they don't shun Ginge, do they? And he's open about being an omega, almost too open honestly, and has been since we met him.”

Arthur nodded. It was true, Ginge often joked about getting knotted and seemed to enjoy telling alphas how slick they made him, even when he wasn't in heat. It had always made him think about the options other than hiding; Ginge’s ability to be so at peace with his status was an appealing alternative to hating what he is.

“And Will! No one gave a fuck about him being an omega, even before he bonded with… him.” George’s tone turned sour at his last words.

“Still can't say his name?” 

“I can but I prefer not to.” George gritted out between clenched teeth.

It was a well known fact that George had been courting Will; they had shared enough heats and ruts together that their alpha and omega natures synced up. That synchronicity right there spelled out the serious intentions of their courting. Then James Marriott came into the picture and suddenly George's dreams were destroyed as Will's nest was broken down and rearranged to fit someone else's needs. 

“We don't have to talk about them,” Arthur kindly offered, knowing it still pained George, even if it had been over a year since Will and James’ bonding ceremony.

“No it's okay,” George shrugged off the offer of kindness before continuing, “It gets us to what I actually wanted to talk about.” George turned his body to face Arthur, crossing his legs on the sofa to give him his full attention. 

Arthur dropped his knees to mimic George's seating position and attention. 

“You know that whole situation was really difficult for me; I was convinced I had found my mate.” 

Arthur nodded along but didn't interrupt in fear of overstepping. 

“I haven't… been with an omega since then, not until you,” George admitted, picking at his cuticles. Arthur was starting to note the small self destructive habit displayed George’s uncomfortableness to anyone looking closely enough. 

At that admission, Arthur couldn’t help but interject, “But you're always bragging about how many people you could knot,” A small hint of shame hit him as he was unable to stop himself.

“How many I could get, not how many I do get. You don't really think I just go around sleeping with any omega that happens to be in heat, do you?” 

Arthur’s shrug showed all his thoughts about that reply. Internally his omega was preening that the alpha had reassured them of his character.

“Me saying all that is just me being a knothead, you know how we are. But I am being fully honest with you, I don’t sleep around.” Sincerity rang out in George’s statement. 

“Then why did you… help me?” Arthur stumbled at that concession; it felt like standing on unsteady ground. He didn’t know what he wanted the answer to be.

George looked away quickly before meeting his stare and evenly saying, “You needed me, and your scent is just… fucking fantastic.” 

Arthur blushed at the compliment and turned his eyes to the side as he confessed, “Your's is pretty good too. Suppressants make me not able to smell very much, like most betas. I think, maybe, I've been missing out a little,” the last part of his sentence was a soft admission to himself as he picked a little bit of fluff off of his jeans. 

“Yeah?” There was a hint of hope in George's voice. “What do I smell like to you?” 

“Like Christmas; cinnamon and warmth,” Arthur's eyes were drawn towards the scent glands that were responsible for the alluring scent that sat at the junction of George’s shoulder and neck, hidden under the collar of his hoodie. He looked away, not wanting to draw attention to his enthrallment too much. 

The silence between them stretched for a while, until George broke the tension. “I don't want to be too forward, I know you're still getting used to things but if you want me there for your next heat, I'll be there.” 

“I'd like that,” he quickly confessed, to both George and himself. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of both his quick admittal and the fact he hadn't had a proper shower in two days. “Do you mind if I hop in the shower?”

George laughed and waved him off, “It's your house, carry on. I'll be hiding from Chris for a while.” He pulled his phone out and started typing away, “Hill is asking if you're okay.” 

“Better now, tell him I'm alright.” He stood up and stretched the physical tension from their discussion out, “Right, back in ten.”

His shower was quick but he took time to use a mild soap and scrubbed off his scent blocker. If George liked his scent, who was Arthur to deny him it? His inner omega purred at the thought. 

Once he was out of the shower he picked up the hoodie he had been wearing and sniffed it in the hope that George’s scent was present; when the smell of Christmas drifted across his skin, he immediately went to his nest to stuff it under the duvet. He was going to need to buy more clothes soon if he kept this up. 

He got dressed and pulled his phone out, ignoring all the messages he had and looking up “nesting materials”. He barely looked up as he rejoined George on the sofa, lost in the wide variety of options available to him.

“You look like you're overthinking something,” George commented, pulling him out of his thoughts and his quest to find nesting items.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… maybe,” he trailed off and still didn't look up as he added more things to his online basket that already had eleven things in it. He didn't need all of it, he'd take some out before he hit ‘buy’ is what he was saying to himself with every addition to the cart.

“Can I help?” George offered and that is the question that tears Arthur’s attention away from his phone. His head turned to George in question . 

Arthur held his phone to his chest as if that would hide what he was doing but then, after consideration, sighed and moved to lean on his elbow so George could see his phone. “I have no clue what I'm doing,” he admitted as he showed the jumble of items in his cart. 

George looked at the basket and hummed, scrolling through the list. That reaction is enough that Arthur’s omega feels the sting of rejection.  

“I'm a rubbish omega,” Arthur sighed out, taking his phone back dejectedly. 

“You just need time. This is all new to you,” George encouraged, then turned a bit pensive as he said, “This may sound a little unconventional, but I'd like it if you let me help.” 

Arthur perked up at George’s interest, “Are you sure?” Even Arthur in all his unfamiliarity knew that alphas didn't usually pick out the nesting materials, omegas were meant to know what they needed.

“Yeah, come here, we can look through it together,” George offered, unfolding his legs so they were either side of Arthur. The casual offering of intimate space had Arthur moving on instinct and shifted so his back was resting against George's chest, both of them able to see Arthur's phone with George's head on Arthur's shoulder. 

Once Arthur took stock of the position he had found himself in, he remarked tartly, “You just wanted access to my neck,” Arthur laughed, but tilted his head to the side in silent offering. An offering of what nature he was still discovering. 

“I'm a knothead, sue me,” George chuckled, but didn't hesitate to bury his nose against Arthur's throat. 

They spent the afternoon looking through multiple websites and discussing options; George's finger scrolling back when something caught his eye. George's other hand found its way into Arthur's hair, gently massaging the scalp. Arthur, unaware of the scent of contentment his omega was putting out, proceeded to relax further against the alpha supporting him in more than one way.

After the third time of Arthur dropping his phone onto his chin as he tried valiantly to stay awake, George gently held the phone out of his grasp.

“Do you want to nap?” His voice was soft as the question was murmured in Arthur's ear.

Arthur sleepily nodded, sitting up from George's wonderful warmth. “My bed is an absolute mess but would you want to come with me?” 

“How can I resist such an offer?” George grinned coyly as he fluttered his lashes at Arthur, but his eyes looked as sleepy as Arthur felt. 

Arthur led the way to his room, pulling off his t-shirt but keeping his shorts on, and getting into bed, under his new blanket. The blanket George had purchased for him.

“What are all these bumps under the bed sheet?” George asked, stripping down to his boxers and getting in, careful not to disturb the lumpy mounds. 

“My clothes that you wore when we… when you were over,” Arthur told him shyly, “I couldn't bring myself to wash them.” His admittance had him fidgeting with the plushness of his new blanket.

“And you say you're not a good omega.” It sounded like praise and Arthur's omega preened at George's words. 

George, once he had laid down on his side and turned his face to Arthur, he laid a delicate hand on Arthur's hip, thumb stroking slow, comfortable circles. His hand closest to the mattress lay in mock casualness between them, wrist up, and Arthur understood the offering he was being gifted. 

He mirrored the position, looking George in the eyes as he laid his own wrist over George's, the scent glands at their pulse points pressed together. Their scents blended together, becoming one harmonious aroma that was reminiscent of a chai latte. Arthur’s omega purred in satisfaction. The gesture was intimate, some considered it more intimate than a kiss, only usually reserved for couples that were months into courting. The blending of scents at the gland was a purposeful acknowledgment of the potential to permanently merge the scents together. Their fingers entwined together, locking their wrists together. 

“This okay?” Arthur softly asked, not taking his eyes off of George's. 

“It's perfect, little O,” George brought the hand on Arthur's hip up to card it through his hair, tilting their foreheads together. Arthur closed his eyes, absorbing George's scent. Sleep took him easily, his hand staying on top of George's.