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Never mess with Follo.
Enjin had put that on his list of things to always watch out for, especially after what happened today. He even thought it would be best to set it as a daily reminder.
Now… time to go back and see why.
The adults of HQ were at the bar, celebrating a successful win against several failed base attacks a few days ago. They were all in their own little groups, drinking to their hearts content.
Even Tamsy had indulged in a drink or two.
Everyone was having a relatively relaxed time.
And before they knew it, most of them had gotten pretty drunk. Enjin included.
He’d been downing drinks like there was no tomorrow, which in his case might actually be true if he didn’t stop. Gris had been trying to slow the pace down and keep things from spiraling, since he’d also been half-watching his teammates– especially Follo, who had a tendency to get carried away when he was like this.
He’d even tried to sneak a few drinks to Zanka, who was supposed to be sticking to non-alcoholic ones, but Follo insisted he was “old enough.” Like hell he was— he was seventeen. Gris definitely didn’t agree with that logic.
So Gris had to split his attention in too many directions at once.
And there was still one person watching all of it.
The security guard…who, for these purposes, did not have a name; had been observing most of it because, well… that was his job. But he couldn’t quite keep his snide remarks to himself, letting a few slip under his breath every so often.
An older “gentleman,” so to speak, with very traditional ideals stuck in his head. And Follo really did not appreciate that.
The security guard had been causing more of a disturbance than stopping one, with him telling Follo off or reminding him of the rules every few seconds like he was waiting for an excuse to speak.
If he had to guess, it was because he was an Omega.
It was pretty obvious. He didn’t bother with scent blockers when he was out with the team, and his scent made his emotions very clear. Right now, all it told him was that the guy was on a fucking power trip.
Another Alpha bullying an Omega just because society allowed it. Encouraged it, even.
His team hadn’t really picked up on it. Most of them were too drunk to properly read the situation.
But Follo was starting to get fed up.
Zanka was the only one who seemed to notice what the security guard was doing, trying weakly, to calm Follo down.
“Maybe we should retreat to the teens area for the rest of the night?”
Follo scoffed at that.
“As if! He’s not running our night because he can’t keep his stick out of his ass!”
He was bold on a normal day. Alcohol just made it worse. His scent was already spilling out of him, aggressive and heated, as he slid a drink toward Zanka.
“Let’s just enjoy our—”
Midway through the motion, something caught his wrist.
A hand.
It squeezed down on his scent gland, trying to suppress him. Not so subtle power play trick.
Follo froze for half a second, eyes flicking up in shock as the security guard’s voice cut in.
“That’s enough! You’re violating Rule 12 on giving alcohol to—”
The words blurred together.
Follo was already seething.
“I will have to—”
More rules. More talking. More of that tone.
It dragged on like slow motion, the guard still lecturing, all the bullshit!
Something in Follo snapped.
He shoved him.
Hard.
“What the fuck is your deal!?” Follo bared his teeth, his voice snapping through the bar.
The entire room went quiet.
The guard clearly didn't take it lightly as he stepped forward.
“I'm going to have to remove you from the premises.”
His pheromones...
No doubt about it.
He was definitely fucking with him.
They were rolling off him so heavily that Follo could barely stand. He forced himself to stay upright, fighting against the pressure crushing down on him. Even lifting his head felt difficult. Every movement felt sluggish.
The only thing he could manage was baring his teeth.
How dare he use such a dirty trick.
Especially on someone from HQ.
How dare he.
He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees.
Being a "good boy" for some random asshole was definitely not in his playbook.
“That's enough.”
A voice came from beside him.
Gris.
Follo could practically feel his imaginary ears perk up at the sound of his packmate's voice.
“You need to control him, sir.”
...
...
...
There was no way that man had just said that.
This wasn't the olden times.
What the actual fuck?
Once again Follo began baring his teeth, a little grumble came from him.
“This might just be a misunderstanding,” Gris said, his voice noticeably colder. “But you don't talk to my packmate that way.”
Gris was starting to get serious.
“Well, the mutt isn't much of a rule follower. I wouldn't expect much from a bitched alpha.”
Oh no.
He did not.
It was a common stereotype surrounding alpha-alpha relationships.
Since they were considered taboo by a lot of people, there was always the assumption that one of them had to be "the omega." That's where the term bitched came from.. a degrading insult implying that their partner had somehow made them lesser. Weak. Submissive.
A disgusting jab aimed directly at Gris and Enjin's relationship.
Even Gris looked taken aback for a moment.
Enjin was already pushing himself to his feet, looking ready to deal with the guy himself.
But Follo got there first.
His hand closed around a nearby glass.
Then he swung.
The glass connected with the man's face hard enough to send him stumbling before he crashed to the floor. Blood rushed from the man's nose as shocked silence swept across the room.
“Don't you ever say disgusting shit like that again!”
Nobody could calm him down after that.
He had to be physically held back and dragged outside before he did something even worse.
And shortly after that...
The team went home.
…
Follo was almost inconsolable.
The first thing he did once he got home was wash his hands.
Then his wrists.
Mostly his wrists.
The exact spot where that man had grabbed him.
Omegas were known for holding onto scents from alphas for days. An old trait inherited from a time when mates could be separated for weeks at a time. Long hunting trips. Wars. Journeys that offered no guarantee of return.
The scent lingered so they wouldn't forget.
So they could wait.
Remember.
Find their way back.
Usually it was considered a comforting thing.
Usually.
But this was unwanted.
He didn't want to be reminded of that old dipshit.
He KNEW he had done it on purpose.
Because no matter what he did, all he could feel was the phantom sensation of the man's hand wrapped around his wrist. All he could smell was him.
It clung to his scent gland.
Refusing to leave.
So Follo scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
Mindlessly dragging the rough cloth over the same patch of skin again and again. The skin was already turning red, but he didn't stop.
He hated this.
Hated it.
The feeling.
The smell.
The memory.
Everything.
And hate was an understatement.
…
As the team came back, Gris first helped the drunk Enjin to bed. Making sure he actually got into it and, more importantly, stayed there.
After that he checked on Tomme.
He found her curled up against Eisha, practically glued to her side. Eisha looked more than concerned about why she had managed to get so drunk in the first place.
Then came Riyo.
Who was currently tucked into Rudo's embrace.
Gris only stayed in the doorway for a second before leaving again. The moment he stepped inside, Rudo's scent had immediately turned annoyed at the unexpected intrusion into his space.
Fair enough.
And finally there was Zanka.
Who had somehow fallen asleep in the hallway while cuddling his beloved assiststaff.
Gris had simply picked him up and carried him to bed, guessing he'd had far too much to drink as well.
Honestly.
What a mess.
But anyways.
Now he had to find Follo.
Which was easier said than done.
Follo wasn't in any of his usual spots.
Gris might've never found him if it wasn't for the cloud of distressed scent pouring out from under the bathroom door.
Immediately his stomach sank.
He pushed the door open.
“Follo...?”
No response.
In fact, Gris wasn't even sure Follo had noticed him walk in.
The omega sat in front of the sink, completely absorbed in scrubbing at his wrist.
Over.
And over.
And over.
The skin was already turning red.
“Follo!?”
Still scrubbing.
“Follo, what's wrong?”
That finally got his attention.
Follo froze.
Gris could see tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
His heart immediately melted.
Without thinking, Gris crouched beside him and gently grabbed his arm, careful not to touch the irritated skin directly.
That's when he noticed it.
A scent.
An unfamiliar one.
Gris frowned.
“...Huh?”
“That asshole! He...” Follo's voice cracked.
The words died before he could finish them.
He looked up at Gris with watery eyes, flushed cheeks, and a nose that was quickly becoming red from crying.
Gris didn't say much after that.
He didn't really need to.
Quietly, he reached up and removed his scent blocker.
Then he offered his arm to Follo.
Immediately his scent began to spread.
Strong.
Safe.
Follo blinked.
Then scrunched up his nose.
“Ah! That tickles!”
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
For the first time since coming home.
Gris felt himself relax.
Follo immediately tried to pull away, looking absolutely mortified.
“I'm no longer a pup, Gris!!”
The embarrassment rolling off him was almost enough to overpower the distress.
Almost.
And despite everything that had happened tonight...
Gris couldn't help smiling.
…
Follo was still obviously drunk, and Gris wasn't entirely sure if this was the right time to talk about what had happened at the bar.
Part of him wanted answers.
The other part didn't want Follo spiraling again.
Not tonight.
Especially not when he was already this upset.
He definitely didn't want to leave him alone, though.
His original plan had been to bring Follo back to his own room.
But...
Gris immediately scrapped that idea.
Because who knew what Enjin could be doing in there right now.
The thought alone brought a slight blush to his face.
Right.
Definitely not there.
So he thought for a moment.
Then an idea came to him.
As he continued talking quietly with Follo, guiding him through the halls, he led him toward Zanka's room instead.
He was sure Zanka wouldn't mind.
Besides, the room practically smelled like everyone already.
Gris had unfortunately discovered the secret nest Zanka had built some time ago. Blankets. Jackets. Random belongings stolen from unsuspecting teammates.
The room was overflowing with familiar scents.
Which meant it would probably help keep Follo calm.
By the time they reached the room, Follo was already half asleep on his feet.
Gris carefully guided him inside.
Zanka was already sprawled across his bed, completely unconscious and cuddling his assiststaff as usual.
At least some things never changed.
Gris helped Follo onto the mattress beside him before pulling the blankets over both of them.
Almost immediately, Follo seemed to relax.
The tension he'd been carrying all evening finally beginning to ease.
“Thank you once again, Follo,” Gris said quietly.
The omega barely cracked an eye open.
“But you don't need to protect me all the time. You should learn not to take everything onto your own shoulders.”
Gris reached over and brushed a strand of hair from his face.
“You deserve breaks too.”
Follo only hummed in response.
Whether he actually heard any of that or not was debatable.
His eyes were already drifting shut.
Sleep claiming him piece by piece.
Within moments he was out.
Gris watched him for another second before standing.
Satisfied.
Then he quietly left the room.
And closed the door behind him.