Chapter Text
Designations—and by proxy—second genders were a mere afterthought in the eyes of most teams, and thanks to a lot of work, perseverance, and clashes—the eyes of the federation too.
So when Kimi checked the empty box next to Omega under his medical profile, he did so without much thought.
His status was a part of who he was, yes, but it didn’t define him.
He was not an omega first and then Kimi. No. He was Kimi, who just happened to be an omega. There was a difference, and he was very much proud of that.
As such, from the get-go he had always been ready to demand the respect he deserved. Firm in the conviction that his place inside the Leniency™ garage was as much as earned and justified as everyone else’s was too.
Thankfully though, he was yet to find the need to.
“If you don’t want my fist square into your jaw and a report filled with the Fed—in that particular order—the next thing coming out of your filthy mouth is an apology.” George spit out, calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the threat he just laid out.
Kimi’s eyes opened up like plates, the offense directed at him quickly forgotten and almost immediately replaced with a mixture of shock and something else that could only be defined as gratitude.
Not that he was particularly surprised by George having his back. If anything, by now, he knew that to be the case. Something that happened to be a very much reciprocated feeling, as there were few things Kimi could think of that he would not do for George, most of them related to eating pineapple on pizza.
Still, the reminder made him feel funny, in a good sense.
He felt safe and almost guarded.
He felt protected.
“Thank you, George.” Kimi said shyly, once they were alone inside his room.
“Don’t even mention it. If anything, I am glad to remember people that you are and will always be worthy of respect.” George deflected, as if the prospect of resorting to physical violence to defend his teammate was something completely normal.
And maybe, for an alpha like him, it was.
Later that night, Kimi lies awake, staring at the ceiling as if the monochromatic paint would help him understand why George’s words felt different this time around.
Because that was the thing. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the way George had reacted.
Even if Kimi would argue that being ready to hit an asshole in the face was a little bit out of character for the always-a-gentleman George Russell.
Teammate and friend George Russell making sure Kimi was alright?
That was not.