Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wolfwood probably counts as a biohazard right now, the way he's sweating, and he's screaming at traffic like a fucking maniac, leaning his bike into the curves at near-lethal speed. He knows he needs to get a grip, but the complete idiot of an Omega he has been in love with from the minute they met, even if they've just been pretending to be friends, is crashing off of years of suppression across town, and Meryl had called to say that he has been begging for Wolfwood for hours, that now his fever is so high and he's so incoherent it's scaring her. She hadn't even known who he was talking about at first, because only Vash knows the name 'Nico', because Vash is meant to be his, Vash feels so right that Wolfwood had just given that name to him one night, natural as breathing.

Wolfwood lets out something between a whine and a howl when he has to stop at a red light, hunched over the handlebars and shaking. He feels like a goddamn werewolf, and only about twenty-five percent of it is the little red tab kicking in, the quick, rough stripping medication to peel off enough of his own suppressants to keep up with Vash. He usually keeps himself pretty battened down, people already want to give a male Alpha running a foster home enough shit without him being as... pungent, as Wolfwood can be. He roars off again as soon as the light changes, finally only one more turn from the little house Vash is renting. Thank God they don't have to drag him to a heat hostel or anything.

He finally makes that turn, and screeches to a halt in front of the house. Leaping off the bike, he bolts up the front steps to pound on the door. "Vash? Vash!"

It's rough for anyone to crash like this, but Vash? Shit, the first time Wolfwood met him, he had climbed up a tree to get a frisbee back for the kids, and then gotten stuck like a cat. Ended up hanging upside down from a branch with a stupid smile on his face. He's probably so scared by now...

Meryl flings the door open, her finger to her lips. "Ssshhh! I think I finally got him to settle for a minute," she whispers, and then grimaces as she steps back to let him in. "Ugh, you stink."

"That's nice," Wolfwood murmurs, completely distracted by the delicious, floral sweetness filling the house, like sun-warmed gardenias. He wanders toward the stairs, every sense desperately tuned for Vash in the upstairs bedroom. At least there's no smell of fear or pain from down here, but there might be some when he gets closer, and he does his best not to run up the stairs, because the thundering footsteps will definitely scare Vash...

"So I'll just leave you to it!" Meryl calls after him. "Good luck! Take good care of Vash!"

Wolfwood is dimly grateful that Meryl is a Beta that Vash trusts with his life, one of the only people he could just ignore in Vash's territory like this right now, and not have to fight or protect or otherwise cope with. He can just wave a vague hand at her and keep walking up the stairs, every muscle taut with the need to keep his movements deliberate. Running at an Omega in a heat is a good way to make them panic and hide under the bed, and if Vash is anywhere near as feverish as Meryl said, they can't afford that. Fuck, it smells like some unimaginable garden up here, along with a burning haze like the nose of a fine whiskey, and the most delicate white musk under it, like the stuff they used to kill some obscure European deer for...

Wolfwood sinks to his knees at the door, and not just because the scent is roiling out of the crack under it in almost visible waves. It's good to be low, at times like this. Helps an Alpha be less intimidating. He swallows hard, fuck, his mouth is dry. "H-hey, Vash?" he calls, as low and gentle as he can manage. A second of silence, then a quick shuffling sound and a massive thump against the door, so hard Wolfwood automatically scrambles backward.

"Niiicooo..." Vash growls, and Wolfwood can hear him pawing at the door. "Get in here," he adds, in a low, imperious snarl that makes Wolfwood whimper, suddenly aware of being so hard it aches.

Wolfwood reaches up, fumbling for the doorknob and finally turning it, the door swinging inward, just a crack. There's total blackness beyond. Not a big surprise, a lot of Omegas keep blackout curtains, or at least tinfoil, for when they're in heat. Makes them feel safer and keeps the neighbors from seeing anything they can't unsee.

And then there's a surge of that pretty floral-musk scent and a single, blazing blue eye staring into his. "Uh, h-hey, Vash," Wolfwood stammers. He means to be steady, to gentle him, but he can't keep himself from trembling, and it comes out in his voice.

Vash just growls, one pale, scarred arm snaking out of the gap to grab Wolfwood by the collar, and haul him inside, so fast he has to scramble to keep himself from bashing face-first into the edge of the door. "Waited for you for days," Vash rasps, tumbling and rolling Wolfwood onto his back on the floor like a rag doll. Wolfwood tries to just go with the flow, and then helps Vash to get his clothes off without completely destroying them. As Wolfwood's eyes adjust to the dark, he can see that Vash is a mess. He's flushed bright red, his eyes look feverish and crazy, and his thighs are slick down to the knee.

Wolfwood whines, feeling terrible for leaving his Omega alone to get to this state, even if he had had no idea that they were anywhere near this point yet. "I'm sorry," he mumbles into Vash's mouth, as Vash devours him, swinging one lean leg over him, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly that it's painful. Wolfwood's hands settle on Vash's hips, and it feels like they belong there as Vash straightens up, eyes burning and full of tears as he stares down at Wolfwood.

"So sorry, angel," Wolfwood whispers. He has a lot of nicknames for Vash, and none of them have ever been this sappy. Hopefully he can plead his mixture of rut-brain and genuine concern, later. "Take what you need, please; please, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I made you wait--aaahh fffuck!" He wails as Vash lines up and slams down on him, taking his knot in one fast, ruthless slide.

Wolfwood is not a small Alpha, and he looks up at Vash in concern, but Vash looks... ecstatic. Like, in the old religious sense of the word, and Wolfwood moans, just seeing him like that and smelling the way he's deepening and sweetening with pleasure and the beginning of satisfaction. If he even thinks about how sweet, hot, wet, and perfect Vash feels wrapped around his knot, he might fucking die.

Chapter Text

Vash had known that going cold turkey after so long would be bad. It isn't his choice, there's only one formulation that works for him, and between tariffs, shortages, and every other kind of bullshit, he has even run out of his hoarded supply. The last couple of times Vash had had to go through a heat unmedicated, he had been sixteen years old and then twenty-one, and he had been able to ride it out with Knives both times (Nai, that first time, he hadn't even picked his nom de guerre, yet) to help him with the skin hunger and to leave him alone by turns to take care of himself.

This time... he knows who he'll want before it even starts, just not how badly it will overpower him. Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the world's worst priest and one of its best Alphas. Vash loves everything about him and has since they first met. He has been meaning to find a way to actually tell him so, and would have really preferred something more articulate and less carnal than curling around the body pillow he uses to rest his bad shoulder and moaning and howling for Nico, for his Alpha, over and over.

When Meryl had come by to check on him, Vash had managed to force himself to stop humping the pilllow (but, unfortunately, not to stop crying) and she had brought him some water and another blanket from the hall closet as he had kept sobbing for Nico. It had taken some frantic questioning from Meryl for him to remember that most people in Wolfwood's life these days don't know what he had said was an old nickname. It just feels so right. Still, some water, and the comforting pressure of Meryl's hand in his through the cracked door (it really sucks to want a hug from his friend but to be too territorial from heat to let her into his room or to leave it) and Vash had been able to put everything together well enough to croak, "Please, c-call, call Wolfwood. Please!"

Vash has no idea how long it had actually been after that until his Alpha had finally come for him. Seconds had crawled by in the lonesome dark, and he had clenched his jaw to keep from howling. He can't even worry anymore, about what Wolfwood will say, how he'll take this. Rejection is unthinkable, something on another plane of existence. Wolfwood is Vash's Alpha, and he will come for him. And he does, after an eternity. So gentle, so tentative out there beyond the door, and it almost makes Vash angry, because he needs him now, he needed Wolfwood yesterday, he might have been born needing him, and there's no goddamn time for this.

At least Wolfwood doesn't complain when Vash drags him into the room and puts him on his back, making a messy and rough job of stripping him. Finally. Fucking finally. Vash knows he's being loud, but he can't stop. He finally has his Alpha right where he wants him: flat on his back under Vash, those calloused, capable hands pinned over his head. His knot is massive, and still not full-size, just barely able to pop in and out as Vash grinds on him, letting out low, full-throated moans at the stretch, the kind of loud, shameless sounds that always embarrass him when he isn't in heat. Wolfwood--no, not here and now--Nico just stares up at him, making loud, helpless, canine noises. He sounds like he's in pain, but also like he'll die if Vash stops. And he smells incredible, all honey-sweet, sun-warmed tobacco and leather, with a sizzle like a summer thunderstorm and that deep, peppery musk that's pure Alpha.

"Give it to me," Vash growls, with the vague wish that he sounded sweetly pleading, like an Omega is supposed to. Instead, it's definitely an order, but Nico doesn't seem to mind.

"Please," Nico pants, "please, your neck, I need--" he cuts himself off when Vash leans down and lets him bite, sinking his teeth into the tender skin at the crook of Vash's neck.

They both cry out, Nico muffled, and finally, Nico's knot swells to full size. The stretch is incredible, and Vash keens as his body locks tight around it, holding them together as Nico groans, emptying himself into Vash, who clenches around him over and over until it takes him, too, a deep, watery shudder that barely takes the edge off. Orgasms will hardly mean anything for a while yet, but Nico looks shattered as his jaw finally unlocks, allowing him to sink back to the floor. Vash can't help a soft chuckle.

"Good boy," he murmurs, and Nico favors him with a wobbly grin.

"Good boy yourself, Needle Noggin."

"Mm. I think I liked 'angel' better," Vash purrs, lazily tracing an abstract pattern on Nico's chest with one fingertip, watching his nipples stiffen in response. He clenches involuntarily around that thick knot, and Nico whines sharply, shuddering all over.

Really, Nico does have remarkable stamina. One of the reasons Vash suppresses so hard is that most people can't keep up with him. Alphas have to beg off because the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Nico is no exception, but it takes five rounds, and then he just lets Vash roll him over and mount him from behind. He doesn't even growl for form's sake, just quivers and lets out a little moan, spreading his legs.

Even so, and even with his brain fried by his heat, Vash stops, resting his forehead against the nape of Nico's neck, slick cock resting along his hole. "S-sorry, sorry, Nico. I... is this okay?"

Nico just pants for a long moment, breath sawing in and out of him, ribs heaving, and then nods, his silky hair tickling Vash's face. "Y-yeah, but I wanna be on the bed, this is gonna ruin my knees."

"Okay," Vash breathes, nuzzling in behind his ear where that delectable scent is so thick, "yeah."

Standing up when he's still this instinctual feels weird, but mercifully soon, they're on the bed, and Nico is panting like a dog, tongue hanging out of his mouth, as he grabs onto two fistfuls of the sheet like he's afraid of falling as Vash presses into him. Most Alphas won't allow this, but Nico just arches his back and pushes back onto Vash. his scent suffused with pleasure. Of course, as soon as Nico is hard again, Vash flips him over and starts riding him again, crying out when Nico growls, biting his neck hard and rolling him onto his back.

Vash loses track of time completely. He just wrestles with Nico and rides him without mercy until he's exhausted, then fucks him through his refractory period. He only stops to drink when Nico pours water down his throat, and eventually starts falling asleep when they're tied. They do end up shuffling to the bathroom, but really it's all a blur. Meryl must come back at some point, because the pitcher of water is never empty and Nico never leaves his side.

Chapter Text

Knives could swear he has sympathy cramps, rippling out from his core like the symptoms of early heat. And they have to be psychosomatic or his guts acting up. He's still suppressed, because he has his life together. And a tour to get back to, the next three gigs of which he's going to be jet-lagged for. His brother is an idiot, and should be living with him in France, but oh no, he has a sentimental attachment to the Christofacist republic of their birth, and so here's Knives, fighting his way through Customs, being as incognito as possible. He needs his fame, it gives him leverage and wealth that he can use to protect Vash, but it does make simple movement and action difficult, sometimes.

At least he has Legato, to help enforce his personal boundaries. He's much more intimidating than most Personal Assistants, and is a great asset to the Security team. He can deal with everyone and everything else, as Knives calls Vash yet again. He's still going straight to voice mail, even though Vash should be about ready to rise into human consciousness again. Neither of them ever has a heat that lasts longer than five days at the outside, and, with Knives's tight schedule, previous commitments, and travel time included, it has been almost a week since Vash had called, at three a.m. local time.

Called to tell Knives that he was in real trouble this year, that he really is out of everything and that he can feel his heat coming on and coming on strong. For better or worse, his stupid fucking twin should be free to answer by now; fucked out with a partner of his choosing, getting rehydrated in the Emergency Room, or cuddled up with a Beta friend and crying his eyes out over diaper commercials. If he has chosen someone stupid enough to hurt him, they will never be able to run far enough or hide deep enough...

"Thank fuck," Knives hisses, once himself, his small entourage, and a supply of legally-prescribed suppressants for Vash Saverem have finally entered the country via the proper channels. He's still tense as he allows Legato to place just the edge of one hand on the small of his back, but relaxes a little at the familiar touch and the cool, mineral, crushed-mint-and-riverstone Beta scent. Legato ushers him out of the building and into the car he has hired for them, baggage already loaded, and Knives allows himself to be guided as he calls Vash yet again.

This time, finally, as they pull away from the curb, he gets an answer. "Knives?" Vash mumbles, and then immediately yawns in his ear, so big Knives can hear the tiny pop of his jaw, and winces.

"Yes, Knives!" Knives snaps, not sure if he's more relieved or more pissed off. "I've only called you--"

"Sixteen times, I see. I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. I'm sorry I worried you, I'm safe, my fever didn't get too high, an Alpha friend took very good care of me--" he's interrupted by an unintelligible grumbling noise, and he pauses to listen. "Well, we never talked about that! Sorry, Knives, he's saying something about how we're at least dating now or his feelings are very hurt, and I was just saying I didn't want to presume--"

"I do not care," Knives informs him, as patiently as he can manage. "If you are safe, and capable of rational conversation, I will see you tomorrow for brunch, at--" he glances over to Legato. Among his many virtues, Legato is also the kind of person who always knows exactly where to book rooms for their stay, no matter where they go. Of course, it must help that Knives always wants the same thing: somewhere quiet and unfashionable, with plenty of greenery and olfactory shielding.

"The July Inn, sir," Legato tells him, and Knives relays the information, before hanging up on his brother, who is of course starting to tell Knives how much he loves him, and a bunch of other unnecessary crap. Nothing matters until Knives can see and smell his twin, and ascertain for himself that Vash is all right. And meet his Alpha, whoever they may be.

Knives grumbles quietly to himself at the thought of Alphas. Always so domineering and obnoxious, so much more trouble than they're worth. Not that Knives really finds anyone worth the trouble. He's due an unmedicated heat, soon, just to keep his endocrine system in order, and he's not looking forward to it. Well. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. He is exhausted, and the July Inn seems like a restful place, well-chosen as always. He glances over at Legato as they wait to check in. He knows Legato has troubles of his own, but he can't help but envy Betas, their own hormonal states so much less... encompassing, and harder to get into in the first place.

It's good to be able to thank his assistant and hole up in his room. It's clean and quiet and there's a balcony overlooking a small nature park. A good place to rinse off all of the filth of travel land then to lie awake in blessed silence while he tries to rehydrate and adjust to the change in time zones. Even if he wasn't worried about his brother, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Interviewers ask him about listening to his own music, and honestly the thought of it makes Knives's skin crawl.

At half-past eleven the next morning, he meets up with his twin in the little rustic tea room, and finds him radiant, enveloped in his usual red hoodie and smiling from ear-to-ear, already working his way through a small pile of doughnuts. Next to him is a dark-haired, dusky skinned, and yes, Knives must admit, rather attractive (in a scruffy, half-dead kind of way) Alpha, slouched in his chair like he can barely stay upright, his scent turned to ashes and honey with exhaustion. He's wearing sunglasses indoors and looks like he might fall asleep at any minute.

"Nai!" Vash chirps, and bounces to his feet. He pulls Knives into a tight hug, and Knives doesn't even complain, just hugs back.

"You're certain you're all right, brother?" he murmurs, clinging just a little.

"Never better! Come and sit down."

"Hey," the Alpha croaks, taking a doughnut from Vash's pile, which is faintly appalling, since an Alpha is supposed to provide their Omega with food, not take it, but on the other hand, he looks like he might not even be able to stand up.

"This is Ni--" Vash cuts himself off, blushing. "Wolfwood." Wolfwood offers a hand, and Knives takes it briefly. He has a lot of callouses. "I met him two days after I moved here, and we've been friends since, but..." his flush deepens. "Yeah. When it really hit me a few days ago, Meryl came by to check on me, and I had her call Wolfwood for me. There was no way I couldn't, and he came right over."

"Is he going to survive?" Knives asks, and Vash rolls his eyes.

"Stop that! Come to the buffet with me. Wolfwood, don't fall asleep, we need more water and another round of mimosas!"

"Sure thing, boss," Wolfwood says, peeking over his sunglasses with such a fond smile at Vash that Knives has to silently bestow his most provisional and grudging approval.