Work Text:
Will is having a terrible summer, and it isn’t even the Upside Down’s fault this time.
It’s far too hot in Mike’s basement, for one thing. It’s almost stifling, the air clinging to his skin like it’s trying to crawl into his lungs and suffocate him from the inside. The ceiling fan is working overtime to keep the room inhabitable, the movie playing on the small TV drowned out by its incessant rattling.
Everyone’s ignoring him again, for another, though he’s starting to get used to that part. They’re scattered around the basement in loose pairs, Mike and El on the couch and Lucas and Max on the floor. Dustin is pacing, talking too loudly about something that makes the girls roll their eyes, but Will can’t bring himself to pay attention, his rambling in one ear and out the other.
He’s on the floor with his sketchbook open, though he hasn’t drawn anything new in days. The pages are already too full of ideas he’d been working on for a new campaign before the others shut him down. He flips through them lazily, more for something to do with his hands than with any real interest.
Mike and El are cuddling across the room, heads tilted together to giggle quietly. Will, in a rare act of self-preservation, keeps his head down resolutely over his sketchbook, thumb tracing the familiar lines. A half-finished dragon stares back at him tauntingly, and in a fit of irritation he didn’t know he was capable of, he unceremoniously slams the cover shut and tosses the book aside.
The chatter in the room ceases all at once, making him flush. He wasn’t expecting anyone to notice his outburst, but everyone’s curious eyes on him prove otherwise.
“Uh… you okay, dude?” Dustin asks hesitantly.
Not really, he thinks. It’s, like, a hundred degrees, and he’s been bored for the past hour, and he kind of thinks everyone forgot he was even here until this very moment.
He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he nods quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice shrill. “Fine.”
They eye him disbelievingly, but move on quickly enough. With a sigh, he flops back onto the floor, one hand flung over his eyes. He stays there for a long moment, half wishing the carpet would swallow him whole and put him out of his misery.
Eventually, he turns his head to the side to peer at his friends. Lucas is stretched out on the floor, leaning against Max, his presence confident and easy in the way alphas always seem to be. He doesn’t have to try to take up space, he just does. Will doesn’t think he’s jealous of it, necessarily, but it is hard for him to grasp.
Maybe that’s why things have been so weird lately. Lucas presented at the end of the school year—the first of the group, much to Mike’s chagrin. Everyone else probably isn’t far behind. Everyone but him, at least. Knowing his luck, he’ll be the last one to present, always playing an endless game of catch-up. The thought settles heavily in his stomach, so he sits up again to look for something to distract himself with.
He regrets it almost immediately. Against all odds, Mike and El have pressed themselves impossibly closer, her legs strewn over his lap and his hand on her thigh. The previous heaviness in his stomach gives way to nausea. Whatever happened to public decency?
Everyone’s moved on to something else, debating which board game to pull out from Mike’s dusty shelf, but Will doesn’t hear much of it. His stomach is churning dangerously, and he’s suddenly concerned the leftover pizza they ate earlier had gone bad overnight.
Mike leans down to whisper something in El’s ear, and she guffaws, swatting at him as a blush spreads across her cheeks. Mike grins triumphantly, tossing an arm across her shoulders.
It’s seriously hot in here. He shifts again on the carpet, fruitlessly trying to calm his stomach, but it feels like his skin is welting from the heat. He blinks hard, trying to slow the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
For a brief second, it seems like he’s succeeded in calming himself down, his pulse slowing. He glances back up and slumps in relief when he finds everyone still distracted, his plight going unnoticed.
And then Mike catches his eye from across the room, raising his eyebrows worriedly, and it all goes to shit. The warmth spikes all at once, flooding his limbs so fast it makes him dizzy. He thinks he squeaks out a panicked noise, but he’s too distracted by everything else to even be embarrassed, instinctively curling in on himself.
“Will?” Lucas calls, sounding far away.
Mike is on his feet immediately, rushing to his side. He’s right there, kneeling close, his previous worry replaced with alarm. “Hey,” he says urgently, reaching out a hand to hold his arm. “Hey, Will, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Will flinches at the touch, skin searing. He stares up at him, eyes wild, his throat suddenly too dry to speak.
Across the room, there’s a clamor, and then an understanding, “Oh, fuck.”
Will can sense Lucas getting closer, but he keeps staring up at Mike, unwilling and unable to break eye contact. His eyes are dark and focused, focused on him, and it sends a guilty thrill up his spine.
Mike’s pupils are dilating, eclipsing the chocolate brown he loves so much. He hasn’t moved, either, and he’s kind of doing a shit job of checking on him, honestly, but Will’s happy he’s here all the same.
He feels the seat of his shorts growing damp, and all at once, he comes back to himself with a mortified squawk.
He pushes Mike away hastily, scooting back towards the wall. Mike doesn’t fight it, continuing to stare at him with that blank, awed sort of expression, arms hanging uselessly at his sides.
Behind him, Lucas is inching closer cautiously. His hands are up, non-threatening, and he’s letting out a soothing scent, lulling Will into a stupor.
This is, by far, the most embarrassing day of Will’s life. He’s going into heat. He’s going into heat in the middle of Mike’s basement, with everyone watching.
“It’s alright,” Lucas comforts, coming up behind Mike now. “Will, you’re presenting, but it’s going to be okay. Let me take you upstairs to call your mom.”
“No,” Mike snarls, whipping his head around. He clearly startles Lucas, who jumps, everyone else going rigid in the background.
“What do you mean, no?” Lucas asks incredulously, turning towards him. “Dude, he’s going into heat.”
And then there’s another scent besides Lucas’s invading his nose and overwhelming his senses. He blinks out of the comfortable daze immediately, all of his nerves suddenly on high alert.
“Oh, fuck,” Lucas curses again, more frantic this time.
“Mike,” Will gasps, his name slipping out thoughtlessly. Mike turns back to him immediately, face softening.
Mike’s breathing heavily, his eyes locked on Will’s, and for a moment, the world shrinks down to just the two of them. The heat is unbearable now, wrapping around Will like a second skin. He wants—he doesn’t even know what he wants—but it’s impossible to ignore.
His mind is spinning, his body betraying him in a way he’s feared for years, and every second he spends with Mike looking at him like that is making it far worse.
“Will,” Mike rasps, scooting closer. Lucas’ arm shoots out to stop him, but Mike shakes him off with a growl, his scent spiking. Will shivers. Alpha.
“Mrs. Wheeler!” Lucas finally shouts as he scrambles backwards towards the stairs. “Mrs. Wheeler!”
It’s chaos after that. Mrs. Wheeler rushes down, Mr. Wheeler following close behind. They snap at the rest of the Party to go upstairs, hurrying towards the two of them.
Will whimpers pathetically when Mr. Wheeler hauls Mike away. Mrs. Wheeler just cradles him against the wall, whispering reassurances in his ear until his mom gets there not long after, bounding her way down the stairs.
The car ride home is a blur, and before he can even begin to register all that’s happened, he’s back in his bed, a hasty nest cocooning him. He can hear his mom and Jonathan talking in hushed whispers outside the door, his scent no doubt pouring out through the crack, but there’s no room left in his syrupy brain to care about propriety.
He buries his face in his pillow, hips grinding uselessly against his sheets, and wails.
It’s another week before he’s back to himself enough to see anyone other than his mom or brother, his new scent finally settling into his skin. It’s sweeter, he can tell, but it’s hard to really judge the way you smell yourself. Jonathan tells him it’s lovely, but Will secretly thinks he’s just being nice.
His mom tells him that Mike’s called the house every day, which pleases him more than it probably should. It also gives him an uncomfortable, squirmy feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t want to think about too hard.
So, when Mike calls that afternoon, like clockwork, he picks it up himself.
“Hey,” Will greets bashfully, his voice hushed like he’s doing something he’s not supposed to be. His hand is clammy around the phone, and he silently admonishes himself for being so nervous.
“Will!” Mike’s voice bursts through the line, clearly happy to hear from him. “Hey, dude. How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” he says cautiously, his free hand reaching up to twist the phone cord around his finger distractedly. “Back to normal, I guess.”
“Good,” Mike breathes out. There’s a long pause, neither of them quite knowing what to say. “I, uh… I mean, I’ve been thinking about you.”
That catches Will well and truly off guard. He knows Mike’s been worried, calling so often and all, but it’s not like him to admit it so outright. Not anymore, at least.
For a brief second, he imagines he can smell Mike through the phone, that same spice that sticks in his memory from before.
His heart hammers in his chest. “I’m okay,” he whispers. He wishes he could elaborate, wishes he could explain that it’s more than okay, that he’s been thinking about Mike every second since that night in the basement. He’s not a masochist, though, so he just asks, “How are you feeling?”
He doesn’t know much about ruts, honestly. They brushed over them in Sex Ed, and he thinks even his mom knew he was never going to present as an alpha, and he obviously wasn’t going to ask Lucas, so… his education in that department is spotty. That said, his heat was pretty gnarly, so he has to imagine Mike’s rut was rough, too.
“Oh!” Mike sounds surprised he asked, like he forgot about it himself. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Listen, can I come over? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh,” Will says back, equally surprised. When did they become people who don’t know how to talk to each other? “You really don’t have to.”
“I know that,” Mike rushes to clarify, somehow out of breath despite only being on the phone. Will pictures him pacing back and forth, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I just— I need to see you. Please?”
Will wants to argue more, but he knows it’s a lost cause. “Okay,” he agrees hesitantly. “Sure. I’d like that.”
“Cool,” Mike says, his grin evident from his voice alone. “I’ll come over right now. See you soon!”
Will starts to say something else, protest, maybe, but the line goes dead before he can.
It only takes fifteen minutes before he hears Mike’s bike clattering up the driveway, which he thinks might be a new record. He opens the door just before Mike has a chance to knock, and Mike’s beaming smile throws him completely off-kilter.
He smiles back amusedly, silently stepping aside to let him in.
Mike has this nervous energy about him, limbs jittering, and Will has a sinking feeling he knows why Mike’s so desperate to see him. He tries not to let the thought of his impending doom get to him. It was inevitable, anyway.
“I’m surprised you aren’t with El,” he comments as they make their way to his room, his bedsheets and clothes all freshly laundered since his heat. He tries not to sound bitter, but he’s self-aware enough to know he still does, at least a little.
He settles into the new, slightly neater nest he’s built atop his bed, looking at Mike expectantly. Mike hangs in the doorway awkwardly, staring at his nest with an inscrutable expression. After a moment, he shakes himself out of it, perching on the edge of Will’s desk chair.
“Oh, no, she broke up with me,” he replies absentmindedly, still just looking at Will in his nest. He makes a vague gesture towards it. “That’s new.”
Will’s thoughts stutter and come to a halt. He blinks at Mike once, then twice.
“The nest, I mean,” Mike clarifies, as if that’s what Will’s confused about. “It’s, uh, nice.”
“What do you mean she broke up with you?” he blurts, struggling to catch up.
Mike frowns at him. “It’s whatever. Max and I got into it, and it turned into this whole mess. I’ll deal with it.”
“Oh,” he says. That seems to be all he’s capable of saying, lately. “I’m sorry,” he adds belatedly.
“It’s whatever,” Mike shrugs again, still staring at him just a bit too intensely to be comfortable. “Um, my mom and dad had a talk with me today.”
“Isn’t it a little late for the sex talk?” Will asks, scrunching his nose.
That makes Mike flush red, coughing a bit. “What— No, not that,” he shakes his head in that way he’s started doing recently, when he’s flustered but doesn’t want anyone else to know. “No, uh, they wanted to talk to me about… you.”
“Me?” Will gapes at him.
Mike nods, mouth twisting a little. He looks suddenly very aware of his hands, clasping and unclasping them in his lap. “Yeah. About, you know, what happened. And, uh. Everything after.”
“Oh,” he says faintly. There it is again.
“They weren’t mad,” Mike adds quickly. “I mean, my mom was freaked out, obviously, but I guess they wanted to make sure I understood… stuff. It was awkward.”
Will lets out a weak huff of laughter despite himself. He can picture it a little too clearly: Mike, red-faced and defensive, Mrs. Wheeler talking in careful circles, Mr. Wheeler looming with that quiet, disappointed intensity he’s always found a little terrifying.
“What kind of stuff?”
Mike wets his lips nervously, and Will’s eyes track the movement before he finds the wherewithal to look away. He looks back up as soon as he catches himself, but Mike’s looking down at his lips, too.
“Um,” Mike says dumbly, averting his gaze. Will hates that he finds it as cute as he does. “Boundaries, I guess. Now that we’ve both… presented.”
“Oh, yeah,” Will deflates, slumping against his bedroom wall. “My mom talked to me about that, too.”
Mike looks up at him again, curious. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Will says, picking at the hem of his shirt. “A lot of ‘you’re not in trouble’ and ‘this doesn’t change who you are,’ and then a whole bunch of stuff about… being careful. Around alphas.” He makes a face. “Around you.”
Mike lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Sounds familiar.”
There’s a quiet stretch after that, the kind that would’ve been easy once, when they were younger. Now it feels loaded, like every second that passes is asking something of them that neither knows how to answer.
“My parents totally think we’re a thing,” Mike blurts suddenly, eyes wide and anxious.
Will blinks at him owlishly, his own face warming. “What?”
“I know!” Mike explodes, like he’s been holding the words back this whole time. Which, Will realizes, he probably has. “They wouldn’t believe anything I said. It was totally humiliating!”
“Hold on,” Will says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Why would they…”
“I don’t know!” Mike’s voice is whiny as he drags a hand down his face. “Well, I guess— Your… you know, triggering my… you know, but—”
“No,” Will responds flatly. “I don’t know.”
“Your heat,” Mike hisses, like a little kid whispering a bad word, “It’s because your heat triggered my rut, which is apparently not normal!”
“That was just a coincidence,” Will goes to argue, but Mike cuts him off.
“Exactly!” he throws his hands up, exasperated. “That’s what I said.”
Will laughs despite himself, then clamps down on it, because this is probably not actually funny. His instincts are buzzing again, restless and uneasy, like they don’t know what to do with this information, either.
“So… they think that because it happened at the same time, it means… what? That we’re—”
He can’t finish his sentence, grimacing. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now, but his life has been a series of subsequent disasters for at least the past two years, so he supposes he shouldn’t be so surprised.
“Apparently, it means we’re compatible.” Mike makes air-quotes around ‘compatible.’
Will makes a small, strangled noise. “Compatible,” he repeats weakly.
That new, omega part of his brain clings to the word, flopping belly-up and purring. Yes, it agrees vehemently, that’s what we are. Compatible. Perfect for each other.
As it turns out, being flooded with new hormones doesn’t exactly help with the whole unrequited crush thing. His hindbrain is on constant high alert around Mike, like a predator waiting to strike. As if all he has to do now is prove to Mike just how perfect for each other they are.
Mike goes back to his ranting, and Will zones out after a while, like he’s watching this conversation happen from the ceiling. If he believed in a higher power, which he only does sometimes, he would think this is some kind of elaborate humiliation ritual from the heavens. At present, he thinks this is just his luck.
The worst part is that he knows Mike’s parents have a point. It’s rare for an omega’s heat to trigger a rut in an unpresented alpha. If anything, Lucas should’ve been the most affected, and yet. He understands why they would… assume.
He thinks about El and frowns guiltily. Even though he knows that’s not what it means, he can’t help but think about how it looks.
He lets Mike talk at him for a couple more hours before he finally corrals him out. They stand on his doorstep awkwardly, the implications of their new dynamic seemingly catching up to both of them at the same time his mom’s car pulls in the driveway from work.
“I’m sorry if I made things weird,” Mike is saying, stuttering his way through potentially the stiffest conversation they’ve ever shared, which is really saying something, considering how the summer’s played out so far. His bike is propped against his hip, his old knapsack hanging from the handle.
He rummages through it quickly, pulling out a lump of fabric and presenting it to him like he’s bracing for Will to hit him or something.
“I wanted to give you this,” Mike explains. Will looks at him quizzically but takes it, hesitantly unraveling it. It’s an old, navy hoodie he recognizes from the winter, still doused in Mike’s familiar scent.
His mom gives them a knowing look as she passes them to slip inside, glancing at the jacket meaningfully. Not for the first time today, he curses the universe.
“Um… why?” It’s the middle of July, Michael, he doesn’t say.
But Mike’s already mounting his bike, face red from the heat outside. He looks sheepish. “Bye, Will!” he calls over his shoulder in lieu of an answer, pedalling away. Will watches him until he disappears down his street, bewildered.
When he gets back inside, his mom is already waiting for him, stirring sugar into a cup of hours-old coffee. “So,” she greets conversationally, taking a long sip. “Hop mentioned El and Mike had a falling out.”
Will just groans, trudging back to his room defeatedly. His mom’s laugh carries down the hallway.
Luckily, his mom doesn’t make a fuss about him going back over to Mike’s for the Party’s movie night that weekend. Well, other than arming him with a scent patch and shooting him at least fifteen more meaningful looks as he gets ready to go, spending just a little more time in front of the mirror than usual.
Mr. Wheeler answers the door, and he thankfully doesn’t look too upset to see him, either. Just eyes him warily and waves him down the stairs, going back to whatever game show ABC plays on Saturday nights.
The rest of the party is already there, and for a moment, Will is hit with a sense of deja vu. The basement has obviously been aired out, his and Mike’s scents no longer lingering, but it’s still a weird feeling, being back with his friends like nothing happened.
The Party is more scattered this time, probably a result of El and Mike’s recent falling out. Lucas and Dustin are arguing heatedly over a small stack of VHS tapes, and Max and El are sitting criss-cross together on the floor, gossiping between themselves.
Mike is by himself on the couch, scowling at the commotion. He perks up when he hears Will coming down the stairs, then promptly fixes him with a disgruntled look that leaves him more than a little self-conscious.
He takes it upon himself to sit on the other end of the couch, smiling at Mike tentatively. “Um, hey.”
“Why don’t you smell like anything?” Mike scowls, eyebrows knitted together.
“Oh,” he says dumbly, reaching up to touch the covered gland on his neck. “My mom gave me a patch to wear when I’m out.”
Mike still looks like he bit into a sour lemon. “I don’t like it.”
“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, unsure what else to say, before directing his attention to the argument imploding in front of him. Eventually, Max breaks up the scuffle, and Dustin begrudgingly puts the movie on. They all settle back, still chattering aimlessly.
“So… did you like it?” Mike whispers once they’re comfortable, eyebrows raised expectantly. His hair is poofy tonight, like he’s been lying on it, and Will can’t help but find it endearing.
“The movie?” he asks confusedly. “It just started.”
“The hoodie,” Mike replies impatiently, fidgeting with the throw pillow on his lap.
Will looks at him really hard, still puzzled by that whole thing. He’s liked it well enough, he supposes. It smells like Mike, warm and peppery, and the fabric is still pretty soft despite being obviously well-loved. He tossed it in his nest at his mom’s recommendation, and it is nice to be surrounded by the scent of pack when he goes to sleep.
Of course, his hindbrain likes it much more, for far more nefarious reasons, but that doesn’t seem like polite movie night conversation.
“Yeah,” he says finally, if only to indulge Mike. “It’s nice. Thanks.”
Mike’s face lights up at that, his chest puffing out smugly.
Ah, Will thinks. Some weird, alpha thing, then.
The rest of the night goes on without fanfare, which Will is exceedingly grateful for after last time. By the time the rest of the Party is packing up to leave, and he and Mike are getting ready for their sleepover, everyone is half-asleep, reluctantly slogging back upstairs.
He wasn’t expecting Mike to invite him to stay over, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy about it. They haven’t had a proper sleepover in, like, a year. And it’s nice to know that all this… presentation stuff really hasn’t driven a bigger wedge between them, like he initially feared.
He sets up the old pullout from under the couch while Mike sees everyone out, piling blankets and pillows on it from the closet, like they always used to. He was planning on leaving it like that, but he stares at the heap for a long moment, an itch in his skin.
Finally, he groans, giving in. He plops down in the center of the mattress, forming the blankets into a rudimentary nest. He doesn’t think Mike will mind. He seemed interested in his nest back at his house, and nests are supposed to be cozy, anyway. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
Except there is. There always is, now, with this stupid voice in the back of his mind always demanding he preens and prances for Mike like some kind of bird.
Remember what he said, it sings, you’re compatible. Show him just how compatible you are.
Screw whatever he thought before. Unrequited love is even worse with all this instinct stuff.
Soon enough, Mike is making his way back downstairs, yawning dramatically. He rubs his eyes, looking up at Will blearily, and then freezes when he spots Will in the middle of the bed. It makes Will feel oddly caught.
Mike blinks at him for a moment, mouth slightly open, like he wasn’t expecting to find Will sprawled across the pullout.
“Uh… you look comfortable,” Mike says finally. He scratches at the back of his neck, shifting his weight between his feet. “I didn’t know you were gonna, um, set up like that.”
“Sorry,” Will flushes. “An omega thing, you know how it is.”
Mike nods absently, eyes still on him.
Will scoots to the side, making a space for him and patting it. “You can… sit. I got out all of the Star Wars tapes.”
That seems to pull Mike out of his stupor. He blinks at him for a long moment, before scrambling onto the mattress and into the nest beside him.
Will laughs, unable to drum up any other response. Mike just grins at him sheepishly, tugging a blanket up over their laps.
A New Hope is already rolling across the small TV, the start of their hours-long marathon. They’ve been meaning to do this forever, and Will is giddy that they finally have a chance.
As evil as it may be to think, he’s kind of happy Mike and El broke up, even if it’s probably temporary. He’s really missed his best friend.
They lose themselves in the movie, as if they haven’t seen it hundreds of times before. The longer the night goes on, the more tired they get, collapsing together until they’re a heap of limbs, unable to tell where one begins and the other ends.
Will blinks awake at some point, in and out of sleep, and realizes Mike has shifted closer, head resting just above his shoulder. He can feel the warmth radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and he sighs softly, nestling a little deeper into the blankets.
It reminds him of when they were kids, before everything went to shit, sharing sleeping bags and squeezing shoulder to shoulder to read the same comic book. At the same time, it’s completely different, never entirely removed from the weight of the end of the world and growing up.
He wishes they never had to grow up. It’s a recurring thought, but it feels especially poignant tonight, relishing in just being close to Mike like this again.
“You know,” Mike murmurs, voice laced with exhaustion, “‘M glad you slept over tonight. I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“I’d never say no to you,” Will whispers back, a little too honestly. He amends, “I mean— I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to, anymore. I mean, we haven’t done this in a long time.”
“I know,” Mike replies forlornly, finally tearing his half-lidded eyes away from the screen to peer over at him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole lately.”
As always, Will immediately rushes to his defense. “That’s not true,” he shakes his head.
“It is,” Mike says more insistently, propping himself up to get a better look at him. “I’ve just been so caught up in it all. Getting El back, and all the shit with the Mind Flayer, and high school starting… I haven’t been a very good friend. I’m sorry.”
His eyes are so open and earnest, Will can’t help but melt into them. “I forgive you,” he breathes.
Mike’s answering smile is beaming. Will’s hindbrain delights in it, in making Mike happy.
Mike settles back down into the nest, pressed just a bit closer now. They go back to halfheartedly watching the movie, but Will can feel Mike’s eyes boring holes in his side, distracting him.
“What is it?
When he glances over at him, Mike is gnawing at his lip, clearly debating the merits of speaking his mind. Will gives him his best expectant look, mimicking his mother, and Mike sighs.
“I really don’t like that I can’t smell you,” he admits. His eyebrows are pinched together, like he’s genuinely uncomfortable.
“Oh,” Will swallows, searching his face.
Suddenly, Mike’s fingers are at his neck, making him shiver. He’s peeling at the edges of the scent patch, not quite taking it off, but pulling at it urgently. “Can I please take this off?”
Will stares at him blankly, unmoored. When he sees the desperation in Mike’s face, though, he relents, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just us, sure.”
He almost yelps when Mike rips it off, eagerly burying his nose into the crook of his neck. He flushes red-hot, tingling from his fingers to his toes.
“Mike!” he hisses, but Mike is undeterred, almost immediately going lax beside him. It takes only a few moments for him to realize Mike’s asleep, his raucous snoring drowning out the sound of the TV.
Oh my god, he thinks, sagging until he’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’s fallen for the stupidest alpha in the world.