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Kant's apartment smelled like pizza and stressed Alpha pheromones when Style arrived, which was honestly not a great combination.
"That bad, huh?" Style called out, toeing on some slippers and heading for the open plan kitchen where Kant was standing.
"You have no idea." Kant looked almost desperate, hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. "Beer's in the fridge."
“I’ll grab one for you. I brought soda.”
Kant raised a brow at that but didn't comment.
Style popped both of the caps and followed Kant to the living room where pizza boxes were already laid out on the coffee table. They settled onto opposite ends of the couch in that comfortable silence of friends who'd known each other long enough that everything didn't need to be said immediately.
But Style could smell the agitation rolling off Kant. Rain and cotton gone sour and acidic with frustration.
"So," Style said, taking a long pull from his hibiscus soda. "Want to tell me why you smell like you fought another Alpha and lost?"
Kant laughed, dry. There was no humor in it. "Close. I met Bison's brother."
Style nearly choked on his drink. "Brother? The bowling alley guy you've been mooning over has a brother?"
"An Alpha brother." Kant grabbed a slice of pizza he clearly had no intention of eating. "Who apparently thinks I'm some kind of threat to his–”
Kant’s face did a funny sort of half-grimace Style didn't remember ever seeing before.
“His Omega brother,” he finished helplessly.
Style had to take a moment to really process it. Then his jaw dropped and eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Are you serious? You… actually slept with an Omega? After all that talk of not liking us like that?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, no need to gloat.”
Style turned fully to face Kant, interest bubbling. Bison must have been quite the specimen to catch Kant's attention like that.
“What, his scent doesn't bother you? Didn't you used to say slick was icky to you?”
He asked only so he could watch Kant turn tomato red. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“Well, obviously I’m intrigued! You’ve always been so adamant about not getting with Omegas. This Bison has to be special somehow and I need to know why that is!”
“He smells fine. Like a forest when it’s monsoon season. Not overly sweet. And it was kinda… nice how excited and wet he got. He was amazing to be with, I don’t know how to explain it.”
Kant had a very bashful look on his face and was still blushing. But his eyes were seeing fondly into memory, not anywhere in the present. Another look Style didn't remember ever seeing on his friend. Could it be Kant was actually falling for someone?
"So how bad was the brother?" Style inquired.
He watched Kant’s bubble burst in real time.
"He nearly ripped my throat out on the restaurant terrace. In front of Bison." Kant's grip tightened on his beer. "He actually got in my face and told me to stay away from his brother or else."
Style felt a prickle of unease. "Or else what?"
"He didn't specify. Didn't need to. He–" Kant stopped, shook his head. "There's something wrong there. Something dangerous."
"But you're not staying away,” Style guessed, grin lopsided.
"No." Kant finally met his eyes. "I really like Bison, Style. Like, really like him. And I know it's fast and maybe stupid, but…"
"But your horny Alpha hindbrain decided he's yours and now you can't walk away even though you probably should." Style took another drink. "Trust me, I get it."
Kant's eyebrows rose. "Speaking from experience?"
"Maybe." Style picked at the garish pink label on his bottle. "Hypothetically."
"Style." Kant's voice went gentle in that way that made Style want to punch him and hug him simultaneously. It felt like coddling from an Alpha but Kant did it in such a brotherly way. "What happened?"
So Style told him. About the accident, about Fadel – though he didn't use the name – about the obvious body disposal and the terrible lies about frozen meat. About the garage visits and the texts and the pin and the way Fadel had unbuttoned his coveralls with hands that shook from restraint.
About how Style's suppressants barely worked anymore around this Alpha, how his body responded like it had found something it had been searching for, how he'd rubbed one out in the man’s Jeep high out of his mind on the Alpha scent.
Kant stared at him, eyes bulging out of his head. “You did WHAT?”
Style groaned. “Let's not talk about it. It's done and it was glorious in the moment, you know? I was really high, it was almost like being in heat! Except my heat isn’t due until two weeks from now.”
Kant listened without interrupting, his expression shifting from concerned to thoughtful to something that looked almost calculating.
"Wait," Kant said slowly. "You said he had a Jeep? Does this Alpha run a restaurant called Heart Burger?"
Style's head snapped up. "How did you–?"
"Because that's where Bison works. His brother’s name is Fadel."
They stared at each other as the pieces clicked into place.
"Oh my god," they said simultaneously and laughed.
"We're both trying to date brothers." Style could hear a slightly hysterical note in his own laughter. "We're both trying to date brothers who are clearly involved in something illegal, and we're sitting here eating pizza about it like it’s normal."
"Nothing about this is normal." But Kant was smiling slyly now, that scheming look Style recognized from precisely every terrible plan they'd hatched as teenagers. "But maybe... maybe we can help each other."
Style narrowed his eyes. "I know that look. That's your 'I have a plan that will definitely blow up in our faces' look."
"Hear me out." Kant leaned forward, finally setting his cooled, untouched pizza aside. "Fadel doesn't trust me because I'm another Alpha sniffing around his territory. He sees me as a threat."
"Probably because you are a threat,” Style laughed. “To his control. To whatever weird protective bubble he's built around Bison."
"Exactly. But what if..." Kant's smile turned sly. "What if Fadel was distracted? Too busy dealing with his horny Alpha brain to worry about me?"
Style's stomach dropped, astounded and extremely impressed by his best friend’s scheming. "Kant."
"You already want him, and he clearly wants you! Omega and Alpha, you know how intense that gets." Kant's gaze turned pleading. "If Fadel is too busy trying not to claim you, he won't have time to intimidate me away from Bison."
"You want me to seduce him. As a distraction," Style said.
"I want you to pursue what you clearly already want to pursue," Kant corrected. "Just... strategically. Show up at the restaurant. Be your charming, bratty self. Get under his skin until he can't think straight."
"He's dangerous, Kant. You really wanna encourage your best friend to seduce someone who could kill him and make him into a burger patty?" Style rebuked. He didn’t know whether to be insulted by the disregard Kant had for his safety or relieved that their nutcase personalities still matched this well after all these years.
"I don’t believe he intimidates you,” Kant said, confident to the point of smugness. “I saw your eyes twinkle when I mentioned ‘Fadel’. See!” He pointed at Style’s eyes as if Style could see the look in them. "You're already involved, Style."
Style hated that Kant had a point.
"So, what?" Style huffed. "I just... throw myself at him? Hope his Alpha instincts override his common sense and killing tendencies?"
"You're an Omega who makes his suppressants fail just by existing near him. An Omega he's clearly compatible with on a level he's never experienced before." Kant's expression turned serious. "I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. But if you're already planning to pursue this – and we both know you are – then maybe we can both get what we want."
Style thought about it. About Fadel's desperate retreat, the obvious inner fight they both fought every time they were in each other’s orbit. About that bewitching scent. About two brothers clearly trapped in something dark and dangerous, unable to let anyone close. It all unfolded like a movie in his mind.
They spent the next hour strategizing like they were planning a heist instead of pursuing romantic interests. Kant would back off slightly, give Fadel space to think Bison was safe. Meanwhile, Style would show up at the restaurant.
"Be yourself," Kant advised. "Charm Bison so Fadel sees you as non-threatening. Then push his buttons until he can't stay away.”
Style grimaced. "You make it sound so manipulative.”
"It is manipulative,” Kant said unapologetically. "But we're trying to date men who've built their entire lives around not letting anyone in. Sometimes you have to force the door open a little."
Style's phone buzzed.
Tall, Dark and Grumpy: Stop texting me.
Style grinned. He hadn't texted Fadel since this morning.
excuse you! you texted me? miss me already??
Tall, Dark and Grumpy: Go away, Omega.
make me, alpha
Then, because Style was apparently incapable of self-preservation: Actually I was thinking about visiting the cute burger joint I found a pin for. Heart burger? Might stop by tomorrow
The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally:
Tall, Dark and Grumpy: I’m warning you.
Style showed the exchange to Kant, who laughed, pleased.
"Oh yeah," Kant said. "You've got him rattled. This is going to work perfectly."
"Or blow up spectacularly in our faces."
"Probably both." Kant raised his beer bottle. "To terrible plans and dangerous men?"
Style clinked his bottle against Kant's. "To getting what we want, no matter how stupid."