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He didn’t react when Pond settled into the couch next to him, long legs bare up to the mid-thighs, where the hem of those striped shorts—now covered in sand-grains—ended. He was otherwise bare, smooth abs shifting with the movement of absent stretching, and shoulders droopy in a way that came with the creeping inevitability of the day.
But when Pond said “You’re still on for later?”, his deep voice cracked nervously, softening in the middle of the words, and Phuwin’s attention was quickly pulled away from his phone.
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to press for anything, yet, and he had a feeling Pond was about to tell him what was wrong, anyway. He uncrossed his legs and spread them out, though Pond was sitting too far away to reach this way.
Pond snatched the never-let-me-go cap off his head, long brown hair uncurling wetly over the sides of his face and ears, brushing the high-rise of his cheekbones, the glossy red of his mouth popping against the darker contrast. He ran his fingers through his hair, once, before settling completely into the cushions, letting the dampness of his body fade away under the spinning ceiling fan, and said, “Everyone is kinda expecting you there, now.” He paused, as if taking stock of something, before continuing in a softer voice, “They’ve got the nest prepared for you. They think you—that you like that kind of thing, maybe?”
“You sound unsure.” Phuwin’s voice was lilted with a smile Pond couldn’t see, as he had his head turned resolutely towards a far wall straight ahead.
Broad shoulders rose and fell, a nervous tick, but Pond’s steady words climbed without stumbling—he’d clearly come here to say what he needed to say: “I couldn’t tell them to knock it off, because they looked like they put so much effort into it. They don’t want to—imply. Or impose. They just think you’re a nest kind of guy.”
“I am a nest kind of guy.” The declaration sat heavy between them, a little curled thing slowly blooming with each passing second, gaining color and weight.
Pond finally turned his head around, and the brown in his eyes was so startlingly clear even without the sunlight catching all of it, like an enchanted surface of the sea, steaming with magic. His mouth was parted, body still, and his questions seemed to pause and quiver in silence like a straw full of water which was being sucked on.
They’d never really discussed this part of their anatomy, their dynamic, because Phuwin’d genuinely believed that they didn’t need to. In professional and personal settings, it hardly mattered what genders lurked beneath the sexes assigned at birth, and how those dual roles sometimes split a person apart until they cracked completely, or pulled them tighter together and made them whole. This happened with people as well, with the relationships that were formed in such a state of duality and multiplicity—some of it shattered bonds; some of it strengthened.
Phuwin didn’t want every conversation with his partner (boy, man, friend, alpha) to be a test of their patience. So, he hadn’t ever brought it up. Ever since he’d presented as omega at the age Pond’d presented as alpha, and the rest of the world had simply kept spinning, he’d looked into Pond’s eyes and told him without words that so would they. This was an outcome that’d neither been outside the realm of possibility nor business. They hadn’t stopped for any subtexts in their anatomy to keep them from working, living or loving. As friends.
But when Pond spoke next, it made Phuwin wonder if the time had finally come for some conversations to be had; he wasn’t anxious, but he could already sense Pond’s anxiousness, coiled like a snake stirring from its slumber, “They’re all omegas. Before I presented, they took me under their wing and made me a part of their pack,” as he spoke, his eyes drifted away, like a memory was rising to the surface in the far distance, and he could just make out the glimmer, the shape of it, “treated me like their own pup, made me more in tune with nests and heats before I’d even learned how to smile confidently at a camera. They’ve never really. Well, held back.”
“That’s good,” Phuwin said, and smiled.
Pond’s gaze snapped back to his. “I know they’re trying to be welcoming towards you. They’ve wanted to meet you for so long—I think they’ve made you into a god.” Phuwin laughed at this, light but not unkind, and Pond went on with a small, suddenly shy smile, “They’re going to bomb you with everything they have. That makes me a little nervous. I’ve never seen you—being a nest kind of guy.”
“I have no hard feelings about being an omega,” Phuwin said, clean and unhesitant. He waited until Pond met his eyes, and held the stare with gentle, knowing firmness.
They couldn’t have a whole heart-to-heart here, and Phuwin didn’t even know what he’d need to tell Pond, or what he wanted to hear from Pond, but he could at least reassure Pond. Phuwin could hold his squirming distress and pet it with steady hands, hold his unasked doubts in a tight grip until the brown in his beautiful eyes stopped shaking.
Hell, they could have the alpha-omega conversation right after meeting Pond’s friends. As long as Phuwin could be there to handle the fallout, just in case, right beside Pond.
Something must’ve worked, because Pond’s stare shifted from uncertain to light, bouncy. He smiled properly, lips shining with gloss and stretched into a full curve, bunching up his cheeks in that adorable way that Phuwin found unfair. An alpha with the cutest smile and the prettiest eyes.
He touched the tail-end of the scent patches they were required to wear on the set, and noted with some surprise that he was a bit flustered. Hm. It was probably nothing.