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Omega is reaching back, tying her hair up with the red bandana Hunter passed down to her. It has to be perfect. Her first ever date needs the perfect hair, outfit, and attitude. She’ll get it… as long as her brothers don’t find out.
“‘Megaaaaaa!” Wrecker’s voice calls out to her from beyond her bedroom door. “Dinnerrrrr!”
Oh boy…
“Um…” She looks at herself in the mirror, frantically readjusting herself (her bang brushed, her make-up touched up, and her shirt free of wrinkles). “Coming?”
Anxiously, Omega shuffles out of her room, leaving behind the comfort of solitude for the unpredictable but still comforting company of her brothers.
Crosshair steps out of his room across the hall, a toothpick between his lips. It shifts to the corner of his mouth as he speaks. “Why’re you wearing that?”
Her brother’s gaze travels over her outfit; a cream drawstring shirt, flared brown skirt, and her favorite pair of sensible boots. She doesn’t usually wear puffy clothing, more content with a streamlined look. But tonight is different… and Crosshair definitely caught on.
“H-Huh?” Omega jolts. Of course, Crosshair would know. Her youngest brother is ever-observant despite his outwardly uncaring attitude.
“Wrecker is making wings and you know how messy that gets.” Crosshair smirks, poking her cream drawstring shirt. “You’re gonna need a bib, ad’ika.”
His finger moves up quickly as she looks down, hitting her on the underside of her nose in a truly childish move.
Omega puffs out her cheeks, assured but offended. “I’ll be fine!” It’s not like she’s staying for dinner anyway.
They walk down the hall, past frames of captured moments over their years on Pabu. Omega trails her fingers along the walls, looking from side to side at the memories. Like the last time Rex, Echo, and Emerie visited or the family picture from her first day of school.
“C’mon, kid, food’s gonna get cold.” Crosshair is leaning against the open door frame at the end of the hall.
All of a sudden, Omega’s throat tightens, her palms clammy. “Right… Food is getting cold…”
How in the name of the Maker is she going to explain this to them?
Outside, Tech and Hunter have already taken their seats. Tech is, of course, nose deep in his datapad. Hunter perks right up after Crosshair steps around the table (presumably intent on going to pester Tech and probably steal his datapad).
“Omega! Glad you could finally join us!” Hunter grins. “Wrecker made Gregor’s soup into a sauce for tonight.”
Well, that certainly brings back somewhat bad memories. Omega doesn’t take her seat beside Hunter, slightly panicking since she’s not entirely sure how to explain the actual intentions of her night.
Tech glances up from his datapad before quickly shooting his head up for a full on look. Omega freezes, feeling her brother’s eyes scan her intently. His eyes narrow behind his glasses, ignoring Crosshair as he snatches the datapad from Tech’s normally unyielding grasp. That directs Crosshair’s equally as discerning gaze to Omega.
“Alright, let's try this again. What are you wearing?” Crosshair says, voice slithering like a snake right up to Omega’s poor, terrified self. His fangs rear for the finishing blow. She’s kriffed.
“My normal clothes. For normal dinner.” Omega steps backwards.
“What a normal thing to say. Tech, what do you think she’s wearing?”
“Her attire is indicative of a more formal event than spicy convoree wings. I have only seen you wear a skirt on special occasions.” Tech cups his chin, lips pursing. “And you’re wearing make-up.”
Hunter had just been observing but the mention of make-up gets him nearly jumping out of his seat. “Where did you even get that?”
“Lyana let me borrow some.” Omega crosses her arms. “Look, I’m not staying for dinner, okay? I’ve got something else to do.” She starts to step backwards, on the threshold into the kitchen.
“What else could you have to do?” Hunter asks, exasperated.
A loud gasp sounds from behind her. “Meggy’s going on a date!” Wrecker would realize first.
The dining room is sent into a tizzy, even as Wrecker moves through the chaos to place plates of steaming, red sauce coated convoree wings in front of his brothers’ seats. Indirectly, Omega shuffles back toward the table.
Wrecker pouts, holding a spare plate of wings. “Maybe you can bring the wings on your date? Do they like spice?”
“Uh, I don’t…” Omega trails off.
“Don’t worry! I’ll pack it up!” Wrecker strides back into the kitchen with renewed purpose.
Omega watches, not willing to look at her other brothers quite yet. She really wishes Echo was here. He’d understand, she bets. Echo would just let her go on her merry way.
“Where’s the date? How long are you gonna be out? And who is your date? Do we know them? Have we met them before? How did you meet?” Hunter starts blathering, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face him. His brows are furrowed with brotherly concern.
“The beach. Just for a few hours. And… not telling.” Omega looks away. There is no way she’s going to tell them before she knows she really likes this person.
“The beach?” Crosshair asks.
“A good idea, but did you know that sea creature attacks are quite common? Perhaps staying away from the ocean is your best option,” Tech offers.
“She has Force powers. She can just magic the beasts away like Ventress did with the vraethan,” Crosshair points out.
“Yes, but still you can never be too careful.”
“Tech’s right!” Hunter squeezes Omega’s shoulders, pulling her to face him again. “Can we at least meet this kid?”
“What? No way!” She shakes her head. “You’ll just… just…” Omega’s cheeks flush. “You’ll embarrass me!”
Hunter huffs. “I don’t like the idea of you running around with someone we don’t know.”
“Aw, she’ll be fine!” Wrecker returns with two containers of food, smirking. “Packed an extra one for your friend.”
Omega groans, taking the food from him. “Thanks Wrecker. And,” she turns to face Hunter, chest puffed out, “I will be fine. I go to school with them.”
“See,” Crosshair drawls, “she’ll be fine.”
“But still, you can never be too careful,” Tech pipes up. “Give me but a moment and I’ll pull up some data on the success of first dates.”
Alright, Omega thinks, that’s enough. She does an about face and swiftly walks into the kitchen, containers in her arms.
Hunter calls after her, footsteps following her as she continues. “Omega!”
“Not listening! I’m going now!” Her face feels like it’s on fire. She pulls open the front door, the night air not as much a relief as she thought it would be, and dashes down the stairs.
Omega knows she should turn around, take a moment to tell Hunter that she is ready for this. It’s her life and she wants to spend tonight with a person she likes. But she isn’t. She’s gonna run like her life depends on it and deal with the consequences later.
When her feet touch the sand, eyes set on the silhouette of her date sitting on a blanket, Omega swears she can still hear Hunter calling her name.