Chapter Text
North wakes up to the sound of frantic banging, and there's a disorientating moment where he is absolutely convinced he's under attack by supernatural forces. Then his brain comes back online, and he realizes the ungodly racket is not coming from the closet, or out from under his bed, but the front door.
Not that someone trying their best to punch their way through into the apartment itself is much better, considering the year they've had. But hey, it's (probably) not a vengeful spirit, and it's actually kind of considerate of them to give North enough warning so he can put his pants on. He grabs his phone, tiptoes to peek out of his room, and… oh, thank fuck.
Kim is already stalking down the hallway with a baseball bat in hand.
It's incredible how intimidating he manages to look while dressed in a set of Labubu pyjamas that may, or may not, have been made for women. In North’s defense, they were on sale and blue. Plus they feel really fucking soft, which is exactly why Kim still wears them even though he likes to lie and claim it's because he's having a laundry day. No one washes their clothes that often.
Anyways.
Someone is trying to break in.
North shakes his head and squints against the darkness. It's probably one of the students down the hall, he decides. The semester has just started so one of them must have gotten drunk and forgotten both their keys and which door they live behind.
An honest mistake.
Could happen to anybody. What kind of a human trafficking assassin would bother to knock first, anyway? Sure, North himself planned a rescue attempt that boiled down to “walk through the front door and start opening random doors” but even he didn't ring the actual bell.
Then again, maybe it would be better if they were dealing with a world’s most incapable burglar. North actually likes the students down the hall. They all seem so nice and hangovers are hard enough without the additional blunt force trauma Kim is about to dish out. Now, if it happened to be one of Tony’s wayward henchmen, then -
Oh shit. North is fucking psychic.
Because when Kim wrenches the door open, it's Kenta standing in the hallway, arm dropping almost comically now that he has nothing to bang it against. Except he doesn't really look like the Kenta North remembers and occasionally sees in his nightmares. That Kenta has the general vibe and humanity of one of those uncanny valley wax figures and skulks around in all black, brandishing a knife in a blood-stained hand.
This Kenta just looks kind of pathetic. He's wearing mismatched slippers, for one. The tactical turtleneck is still there, but it's all creased up and paired with sweatpants with a suspicious wet stain. Luckily, it's limited to the front of his right thigh, but it stinks so strongly of booze that North can smell it all the way down the hall.
“I shouldn't be here,” weird imposter Kenta says, and wow, you fucking think?
“Get in,” Kim answers and really, et tu, Kimberly?
North is about to make his displeasure known when he catches something else under the stench of stale alcohol. Sure, it has an unpleasantly bitter edge to it now, but the scent emanating from Kenta is undoubtedly sweet in a very specific way North could recognize anywhere.
Omega.
He must be hallucinating. Maybe he's still asleep in his bed, and this is one of those creepily realistic dreams brought on by stress. The scent grows even stronger once Kim closes the front door. North pinches himself. It hurts. In the sudden quiet, Kenta’s short, gasping breaths are the loudest thing in the room.
“I'm really sorry,” Kenta says. “I should go now.”
Weirdly, it doesn't feel like Kenta is talking to them. He keeps wringing his hands and looking anywhere but them, addressing his concerns to the shoe rack. He's either shit wasted, North concludes, or freaking the fuck out. In the grand scheme of things the first option would make slightly more sense but considering how deftly the man dodges Kim’s attempts to touch him, and how North can almost taste the burnt edge of panic on his tongue, option two it is.
Something went down, and Kenta was so out of sorts about it that his only option was to stumble to their door and start banging on it at three in the morning on a Thursday night. North has clearly missed several memos, and the second this crisis has been dealt with, he's going to duct tape Kim to a chair and make him talk.
“I didn't mean to,” Kenta mumbles. “I swear I didn't… I'm sorry.”
And finally Kim gets to asking the real question: “Kenta, what did you do?”
His voice is quiet but firm, all alpha in a way it commands attention. North instinctively straightens up, then immediately scrunches his nose out of annoyance. While Kim might lowkey make it work, being the way he is, every omega has encountered enough assholes to have a negative gut reaction to the whole alpha voice thing. Not that it's real the way Sonic’s secret collection of smutty romance books might suggest, and all the asshole alphas want to believe, but still.
“Pete.” Record scratch. Holy shit. “We kissed. I'm sorry.”
“Okay.”
What a freaking liar, North’s brain chimes in. That was the verbal equivalent of the “k” he texted to Sonic freshman year of college when the alpha went on a date and told him not to wait up.That was Way (may he rest in peace) hearing Babe declare Charlie as “his boy.” That was Dean (may he rest in pieces) accepting he lost his chance at representing the team in the Super Series.
“But I didn't mean to,” Kenta continues, voice shakier than ever. “I didn't want to. I pushed him away, I promise, I really didn't -”
He breaks off in a strangled, wheezing gasp and collapses down onto his knees. Kim follows him without hesitation, the twin thuds making North cringe for both the sake of their downstairs neighbours, and the state of the couple’s knee caps. He himself takes a few hesitant steps out into the living room, his sleep-addled brain trying its best to catch up.
Something about this whole thing is bugging him. Well, the entire thing is bugging him, but to be more specific, it's the way Kenta talks. It's the words but also how he says them - he's clearly desperate to be believed but flinches away from Kim’s attempts at comfort at the same time. He's scared on so many levels, and North has a really bad feeling about this.
“Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?” he blurts out. “Sorry, hi, hello. But you said you didn't want to. So did you do it because you felt you had to do it or did he just, you know… kiss you? Without asking.”
Kenta blinks, glassy-eyed and confusion written all over his face. “Does it matter?”
Does it… unbelievable.
North actually pities the dude as he listens to Kim carefully explain that yes, there is a big difference between doing something and having something done to you without your consent, and yes, that does matter. He's trying his best to be all patient and gentle, hands hovering but never quite making contact, but it's kind of impossible to ignore the growing edge of anger in his scent. He must be fucking furious if his control is slipping enough to let it be known, and while North knows it's not directed at Kenta, it's clear Kenta doesn't.
“Please,” the older man whispers, sinking even deeper in on himself. “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be good. Just please don't make me leave.”
“You're not going anywhere,” Kim assures him. “You're gonna stay here until we figure this out, okay?”
The last bit is said with the quickest of glances in North’s direction. And what is he supposed to do? Kim’s asking, but he's not really asking, then Kenta makes this little whimpering noise and finally grasps Kim’s forearms like a lifeline, and North’s not heartless. Fuck. He's really going to let a murderous, childnapping weirdo move in, isn't he?
People were right all along in calling him an idiot.
Oh well. Since this is actually happening, he might as well go all in and whole-ass this idiocy.
North abandons the relative cover of the couch and bravely walks up to the pile up in the entry hall. Hovering awkwardly over them, he can actually pick up traces of Pete under the alcohol soaking Kenta’s clothes and doesn't miss how Kim’s hands keep almost touching the areas where the foreign scent is the strongest. The alpha is clearly holding on for dear life, trying his best to remain respectful and pushing out soothing pheromones to compensate for his anger.
Kim probably thinks he's helping, but North bets he's doing more harm than good. Both of their instincts are running wild, and as long as Kenta carries even a hint of Pete on him, Kim won't be able to settle. But as long as Kim’s anger keeps simmering under the surface, Kenta won't be able to relax.
They're unconsciously riling each other up.
It's kind of tragic, actually, and North isn't immune to the pheromone soup either because he's experiencing the most intense urge to mother both of them. He claps his hands and winces when the couple at his feet startles, the sound much louder than he intended.
“Well, since you're staying, I think you should wash up first. You kind of stink.” The ‘of booze and Pete’ goes unsaid. “A shower will do you good.”
“I -” Kenta begins hesitantly and glances at Kim who nods encouragingly. “Yeah. Okay.”
Getting him off the floor is a bit of an ordeal. Kim does most of the heavy lifting - quite literally - and North just kind of shoves his hand in there when Kenta sways. It lands high on the older man’s waist, and the lack of reaction earns him a disbelieving glare from Kim. North sticks out his tongue in response. It's both deserved and easier than explaining the finer details of omega instincts and how, as opposed to alphas and their knot-head superiority complexes, they are hardwired for community, first and foremost with each other.
Eventually, Kenta gets the feeling back in his legs but remains wobbly enough that they move through the apartment in a bizarre imitation of a penguin huddle. It goes surprisingly smoothly, until they reach the bathroom. The anxiety in Kenta’s scent spikes again, and his eyes flicker between the open doorway and Kim. North might be hopelessly out of the loop when it comes to these two, but this is a tale as old as time.
Lucky for Kenta, North mastered omega extraction 101 in middle school.
He grins, puts one hand on Kim’s chest and, while the alpha is distracted by his rapid fire babble about bedsheets and having enough food to feed three people, uses the other one to gently pull Kenta behind himself. The older omega doesn't put up a fight, almost docile as he crosses the threshold. With Kenta exactly where he's supposed to be, North jumps back. Kim blinks a couple of times, realisation setting in, but by the time he moves forwards, it's already too late.
“No alphas allowed! Sorry!” North beams.
He has to kick at Kim’s shin to get him to back off, then he slams the bathroom door shut right in the alpha’s indignant face. That's one problem dealt with. The bigger one is standing in the middle of the room, swaying on his feet, arms wrapped defensively around his midsection. Kenta’s eyes are stuck on where he's still grasping the doorhandle, and North lets go, raising both arms with a pacifying smile.
“I won't lock it,” he says. “Kim’s not gonna come in, but you can get out any time you want. That okay?”
Kenta nods and slowly unfurls his arms, letting them hang limply by his sides, and North sighs, blowing out all the air in his lungs.
Well, this is awkward.
But if there is one thing North can do, it's run his mouth. He plasters on a casual smile and starts pointing out all the obvious stuff from where the shower cubicle is and what products he can use - “The bottom two shelves are all Kim’s, if you can figure out what's what feel free to use all of it” - to the hamper and the stack of fresh towels on top of the washing machine.
“I’ll just sit here,” he concludes, patting the closed toilet lid. “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, but no offense, you kinda look like Bambi on ice, and I don't think you want Kim hovering over you. Unless you do? He is fussy but I guess it makes sense if you two are -”
“This is… fine,” Kenta cuts him off. “And we’re not.”
North raises his eyebrows as the tips of Kenta’s ears turn bright pink. He's cute, and it's kind of fucking with North hardcore because sure, he felt bad for the dude before, but there's pitying a fellow omega for being a wreck because of a man (men? Seriously, Pete and Kim? Go Kenta) and then there's wanting to grab a killer by the cheeks and squish him because he looks like a marshmallow bunny.
“We barely even talk,” Kenta says once the staring has gone on for too long. “He picks me up and we just… drive. Sometimes we get convenience store snacks or ice cream to eat by the car. He makes me feel…”
“Safe?” North suggests, his own voice falling into a whisper.
“Yeah. Kim feels safe.”
For a split second the older omega’s face reflects the same helpless longing North first felt at sixteen when he met Sonic. It was freshman year of high school. He'd had his first heat that summer, so everything was different, and while he was never outright nervous or scared, surrounded by all the adolescent hormones none of them had much control over, he didn't even realize how on edge he'd been until he met Sonic. Befriending the alpha was the easiest thing he's ever done. They've been inseparable ever since, scents mingling so thoroughly that for the longest time no one in the garage could tell them apart.
Well. Up until recently when Sonic went full Project Runway on their asses and hopped on a plane to Paris. Which North is fine with. Because he is cool like that. And it's not the most pressing issue since he needs to get Kenta naked, which is so not something he thought he'd have to deal with tonight.
“Can I take that shower now?”
North jumps a little and his voice is way too loud when he declares yes, sure, absolutely, then spins around and covers his face with his hands to demonstrate he is not some kind of a pervert. There is a sense of unease in doing so, that creeping awareness of being blind and having his back wide open, but the situation is just ridiculous enough to keep him calm. Ish. He does get restless after ten seconds, and his fingers start to tap a nervous rhythm against the bridge of his nose. His ears pick up the sound of rustling clothing, then a stumble and a thud as Kenta grabs onto the sink for support.
“Are you okay? Do you need any help?”
“I'm fine.”
He sounds embarrassed. It's endearing. Weirdly enough this whole thing reminds North of those true crime podcasts where they tell you that if you ever get kidnapped, you have to humanize yourself to your captors, so they'll see you as a person and will be less likely to kill you. But like… in reverse. Or whatever. Is there a word for when the bag guy gets all pathetic, and the good guys can't help but take him in? Other than enemies to lovers. North should stay vigilant because he definitely doesn't want to accidentally fanfic trope his way into Kenta’s pants.
There's a soft pad of feet, followed by the sound of the cubicle door opening and closing. The shower sputters to life with the usual dramatics, but their water pressure is actually amazing, and North can relate to the sigh Kenta lets out. He waits a bit longer before blindly scrambling his way to the toilet and sitting down. It's kind of boring, actually, but with his eyes scrunched shut to avoid any temptations, his nose starts picking up more.
Now that Kenta’s panic has subsided, and he's starting to relax, North can pick up his true scent and it's making him connect some pretty interesting dots. Kenta smells like those sugary oatmeal cookies from IKEA. Coincidentally, last month Kim switched his entire shower and skincare lines from scent neutral into “soft honey oat.”
In conclusion, Kim is a gigantic fucking simp which is hilarious. North is never going to let him live this down because he might have had his weak moments, but never has he gone and spent thousands of bahts to smell a little more like his crush. He had the brains to vacuum pack one of Sonic’s hoodies and hide it under his bed for emergencies like a normal person.
After what seems like forever, the water turns off, and there's a long pause before Kenta hesitantly asks, “Could you bring me a towel?”
North practically jumps back up on his feet and manages to knock over a trash can in his haste. The clatter of metal on tile is stupidly loud, and it takes Kim like two seconds to be at the door, knocking softly - Kenta should take lessons - and demanding to know if everything’s okay.
“We’re fine! I kicked the bin over! Go away!” North calls out and tries to feel his way by inching his foot forward. “Can I open my eyes a little? I promise I won't look but I kinda need to see where I'm going.”
“As long as you don't look.”
North has to blink a couple of times to get used to the lights, but then he's crossing the room and picking up the biggest, fluffiest towel from the pile. He's careful to keep his eyes on the floor when he walks to the cubicle. The frosted glass door is cracked open, and he can see a hand reaching out from his peripheral vision.
Then he notices the blood.
And North really doesn't mean to look, but the streak of red is so shocking his eyes are automatically following it - oh, hi penis! - all the way up. There are five uniform, parallel lines cut into the flesh of Kenta’s upper thigh, in various stages of healing. Kenta is picking at the bottom one, scratching at the scabbed skin. He doesn't seem to notice he's torn the skin back open.
North’s sharp, involuntary gasp gives him away immediately. Kenta practically rips the towel from his hand to cover himself up, and as North’s eyes snap to his face, he actually feels like he's in danger for the first time tonight. The older man looks way more aware now, muscles coiled and ready to spring, even as he stands completely frozen.
“You will not tell Kim,” Kenta says, and he's definitely not asking by any definition of the word.
North pulls a face despite fearing imminent death via shower head. The thing is, he might be a big blabbermouth, but he doesn't blabber about things told to him in confidence. That doesn't mean there aren't exceptions, though. Snitches might get stitches, but he's not going to keep a secret if that secret will end up hurting someone.
“I won't tell him if you make sure there's gonna be nothing to tell him about,” he counters. “And you'll let me clean that up.”
Which is how he ends up on his knees in front of Kenta because clearly his life is entirely unserious. Not that tending to someone’s self-inflicted wounds isn't serious. North is focused as fuck as he wipes off the blood with a piece of gauze wetted in the sink and squints at the cut.
It looks like Kenta just tore off a piece of a scab. There's a raw looking sliver of skin, but with no one picking at it, it has already stopped bleeding, and North’s relieved to note that four of the five cuts look like they were done a while back. None of them look deep, either, not that he's the best judge.
In the end, he doesn't even bother with the antiseptic because Kenta did shower, so it's not like he's swimming in bacteria. Plus, North’s gotten worse cuts while trying to cook, and all he ever bothered to do was run his cuts under the tap and slap some band-aids on them. At least the bathroom first-aid kit has the regular ones because he has a feeling Kenta wouldn't appreciate the pink princess plasters they have in the kitchen.
“All done,” North smiles, awkwardly clambering back onto his feet and congratulating himself on not falling face first into Kenta’s dick. “I’ll find you some clothes, but I wasn't kidding earlier. If you cut again, I will tell Kim because while I'm really not equipped to handle this, I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself. So, if you start feeling sad or whatever, we can talk and -”
“I am not depressed,” Kenta interrupts, quiet but very firm. “Sometimes I simply need… structure.”
“Structure,” North echoes flatly.
“Some mistakes deserve punishment. Now could I have some clothes? Please.”
North’s happy to jump on it because what the hell can you say to that? Obviously, there's always been something very wrong with Kenta, everyone knows that, but he's starting to realize how fundamentally fucked up the older man is. Also, it's impossible not to notice all the scars now that he's kind of given up on the whole eyes on the ground thing. Some of them admittedly make him curious - like what the hell happened there to make that mark? - but some are pretty self-explanatory and make him deeply uncomfortable.
You don't get those stripes on your back in a fair fight.
North speed walks to the door and opens it carefully, peeking out. Kim, as expected, has had all the foresight and probably puttered around like a housewife on the verge of a nervous breakdown, because right outside the bathroom door there is a pile of neatly folded clothes. All of them Kim’s, North notes, because of course, but they'll do. He picks them up and hands them over, keeping his back turned until Kenta stops moving and announces he's ready.
Maybe there is something fundamentally fucked up with North as well because all he wants to do is wrap himself around Kenta like an octopus and cuddle the older omega to death. Some of it is pure instinct - shove two omegas together in a stressful situation and see what happens type of thing - but some of it is just Kenta having major sweater paws energy despite wearing a t-shirt. The paws are spiritual, okay?
“You're so fluffy,” he says because it's true.
“I could kill you,” Kenta answers, which is also true, but not that imminent of a threat because he sways and almost falls on his face immediately after.
“Let's get you to bed,” North sighs, rushing over to grab the older man by the arm. “You must be exhausted. It's been a long night.”
Kenta must really be dipping hard because he doesn't argue and allows North to support most of his weight as they shuffle towards the door. North’s not surprised. Sonic used to have a lot of panic attacks when they were younger and could sleep for 12 hours straight afterwards. Whatever adrenaline kick Kenta might have gotten from being confronted is gone now, and it's honestly a miracle he's lasted this long.
Kim must have heard them coming because he's waiting in the hallway. North makes an offended little meep when Kim pushes him aside and bangs his elbow on the wall in the process. Not that anyone cares. Kenta is staring at his bare toes with pink ears, and Kim is trying to act all cool about it but is failing miserably. His control over his more primal side is usually so ironclad that it's almost jarring to see him behave like such a typical alpha.
‘Mate so soft and pretty,’ North thinks sarcastically. ‘Mate smell like me, grrr.’
Amazing.
“Oh come on, stop being embarrassing and let him sleep,” North sighs when Kenta bites back a yawn. “You can stare at him all you want tomorrow when he's awake enough to say something about it.”
Kim makes an offended noise, and Kenta’s blush travels from his ears all the way down to his cheeks, but they actually do manage to get out of the hallway and into Kim’s room. And oh, someone has been busy.
“I just changed the sheets,” Kims says flatly.
“And hid your porn,” North smirks, nodding towards the curiously empty nightstand.
“I did not -” the alpha huffs, indignant, then quickly looks towards their guest. “There is no porn. I just cleared out some books Sonic left behind -”
“So basically porn,” North grins. “Trust me, his entire collection is strictly eighteen and over. Did you make it to the fairy stuff yet?”
Kenta’s eyes bounce between them like he's watching a tennis match, and North thinks he spies a hint of a smile when Kim flushes bright red and starts waving his arms,mumbling something about it being bedtime. Which means he definitely made it to the fairy stuff
North has no regrets.
Kim’s going to find a way to get back at him, but that's a problem for future him. Kim totally deserved it, anyway. One does not become a temporary roommate and then, two months into temporary roommate-ship, invite a totally-just-a-friend to move in without some consequences.
But hey, their bickering gets Kenta into bed. Which sounds so wrong when you put it like that, but it's a win nonetheless. North gets the feeling both of them are fighting back the urge to tuck Kenta in like a child because watching him lay down cautiously and tug on the sheets is just physically painful.
‘Psycho killer,’ North reminds himself when Kenta peers up at them with round eyes, blankets pulled up to his chin. ‘Not a baby girl. Not a sweet boba ball. An actual murderer! A knife wielding…’
“Thank you,” Kenta says quietly.
‘… cutie pie, small bean kitty cat.’ North should be embarrassed.
Two nights ago he woke up in a cold sweat because he dreamed that Tony and Kenta, assisted by an army of mutant geese, chased him through a hedge maze. Now he's making excuses because the man happens to be an adorable omega that Kim is apparently smitten with. And talking about the devil…
Kim has snuck in closer and is currently petting the sheets next to Kenta’s leg. North squints. He doesn't even need his nose to smell the man’s bad intentions from a mile away.
“Kim, a word?” he asks sweetly, nodding towards the hall.
They whisper hushed good nights to Kenta who looks more than half-asleep already and close the bedroom door behind them. Just to be safe, North walks them all the way to the living room before spinning on his heels, channeling Alan and levelling his best disapproving glare on Kim.
“What?”
And wow, the sheer audacity of this man!
“Since when?” he hisses, aggressively pointing towards the bedrooms. “How long has that been going on?”
“A few months.”
“And you didn't feel the need to tell me?”
“There was nothing to tell. Kenta’s just a… friend.”
‘Is that what I sound like?’ North wonders because if so, no wonder people have been giving him shit about Sonic for years. Kim's defensive, arms crossed and jaw clenched, but it's not the kind of defensiveness that comes from being pissed off. It's protectiveness – both of his own feelings and that fragile not-quite relationship. It takes the wind out of North’s sails, and he sighs, collapsing back onto the couch.
“He's not a bad person,” Kim tells him. “And he's not going to do anything. If you really have a problem with it, I’ll find him somewhere else to stay tomorrow, but I'm not going to send him back. You saw how he was.”
‘I did.’ North’s mind flashes back to the myriad of scars, both old and new. ‘Bet I even saw more than you have.’
But let's face it, even if he hadn’t, there are very few things he wouldn’t do for his friends.
“Nah, he can stay,” he answers. “If I wanted him out, I would've done it before he got all cozy in your bed.”
Kim preens a little at that, eyes flickering back towards his room. He's clearly aware that, even though he changed all the sheets, after months of living in the room his scent has soaked into everything, and Kenta would be smelling like him come morning.
‘Dumb alpha,’ North thinks but does so with affection.
It, however, immediately turns into suspicion when he notices Kim taking a step backwards while yawning.
“Where do you think you're going?” he squints.
“To bed?”
He grabs one of the small, decorative pillows and, with impeccable aim, throws it straight into Kim’s face. The alpha huffs and throws the pillow right back, but North catches it.
“You said it yourself: you two aren't a thing,” he cackles at his friend’s expression. “Did you really think I was gonna let you crawl into his bed? You saw how he was,” he repeats the alpha’s earlier words right back at him. “You're staying on the couch.”
“I could always crawl into your bed,” Kim grumbles. “There's more than enough room.”
“And what would Kenta say about that?”
Kim makes a face and plops himself down next to North, nudging their shoulders together. They share a moment of companionable silence before Kim sighs and apologizes quietly. He says he's sorry for causing so much trouble and how he knows this wasn't what North signed up for when he sublet Sonic’s old room to him.
“Shut up, dumbass,” North responds, dropping his head to rest on the alpha’s shoulder. “You're pack now. Your drama is my drama.”
“So does that mean -”
“Oh hell no, you're still sleeping right here.”