Chapter Text
Courtship.
Izuku sat at his computer in the dark, feeling like a gross otaku. He had his head propped up on his legs curled into a ball. A meek, gay ball, blushing and flustered. The only thing missing from this whole otaku get-up was probably a pair of glasses and some buck teeth.
Courtship.
The words weren’t moving on the screen, Izuku. They’re right there. He knows what he’s searching up, staring at unblinkingly despite how his search engine was on light mode, and he, in his dorm room at three AM. It’s that topic teachers talk about when you present.
He knows it. He’s supposed to. Alphas. Izuku. They - he should send gifts to - his - his omega. Pamper them. Eventually scent them. Convince them to- to-
… be his mate?!
Izuku finally drags his eyes away from the screen, burying his head in his arms.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was being lied to about this whole courtship thing. He could barely even think about someone as his. As a secondary gender.
He quickly shut his computer off and pushed out of his chair, standing face down. His eyes spelled out Kacchan’s name on the keyboard, then realized he was spelling out Kacchan’s name on the keyboard. He shouldn’t be dreaming about this! Even going to bed and dreaming from there would be more realistic than - than this!
Izuku flopped onto his bed, head in his hands. The internet had to be lying. There’s no, no, no way that’s how you get an omega to like you. He wouldn’t want any gifts from Izuku, would he? No, there’s no way. It’s Kacchan; he’d probably toss it in the trash, or something! They surely didn’t account for him. He wouldn’t want any of that stuff.
It’s a lost cause.
How could anyone - especially Izuku Midoriya - court Kacchan?!
…Izuku didn’t sleep well that night.
When Kacchan presented, it was earlier than Izuku.
He tended to be earlier to everything. Sleeping early - he always got the first pick - winning races in phys-ed even when he wasn’t allowed to use his quirk (of course he would, Kacchan’s super athletic!) being in class before the bell rang. Izuku’s ninety percent sure that these are small victories for him.
But the day Kacchan presented, he came to school late.
Izuku, ever so analytical, maybe freaked out internally over the outlier. Kacchan was not only an early bird, but also consistent. So his stomach dropped when he finally realized that the rude, mean blonde would not be walking through the classroom door today with a pointed glare as always and a bag slung over his shoulders. And Izuku wouldn't get his daily dose of yearning.
It took him an embarrassing amount of time to let it fully set in, and when the realization did settle down, he banged his head on the table. Really loudly. For everyone to see and hear. His ears burned so red that he didn’t notice the intense throbbing in his forehead.
Nice going, Izuku.
After lunch had passed, he’d fully given up on seeing Kacchan that day and reluctantly gave in to actually focusing in class. Scritching at his notebook. Analyzing random uses of Kacchan’s quirk and ever increasingly niche situations that he could find utility in. Doodling Kacchan.
This sure is a lot of focusing.
Ironically, Izuku was so lost in thought about the loud blonde that he didn’t even notice the arrival of said blonde. Fashionably late, his legs banged on the table as Kacchan got comfortable, and that’s when Izuku finally snapped back into reality.
He avoided eye contact since eye contact with Kacchan only meant that it’d instigate something, although he really wanted to see him. But even without looking, Izuku couldn’t help but feel like something was off. The teacher didn’t scold Kacchan at all, even though she usually despises how loud he is.
Then he smelled it. A faint, ghost-like scent of caramel and gunpowder, wafting in the classroom.
Most unpresented noses couldn’t sniff out scents, but Izuku’s nose was always a little too sensitive. It made him cry when someone had really strong pheromones, usually from sheer overstimulation. He never thought it’d be useful. Why would it ever be?
He felt like a creep, smelling Kacchan’s pheromones. Right after presenting. While no one else had noticed, judging by how the class moved on without a whisper. His stomach kind of tingled, and it was a feeling he tried to shut out, but it stayed like how blood would stain.
Kacchan… was an omega.
… An omega.
Izuku always thought Kacchan would be an alpha. He’s pretty sure everyone assumed it. Omegas weren’t… like Kacchan. He didn’t follow people. He didn’t need anyone. He wasn’t sensitive.
It didn’t make sense. How could he be an omega?
What if Izuku presented as an omega too? Omegas couldn’t get together. That wasn’t biologically compatible. Why was he thinking about this in the first place!? Kacchan’s cruel. He’s messed up for wanting someone like him. For even considering it. No, just forget it.
His being an omega didn’t change anything.
Kacchan was still Kacchan, and the blush on Izuku’s cheeks didn’t go away.
As life turns out, most people didn’t see things the same way Izuku did.
With a mom that was a beta, he didn’t notice how differently people were treated based off their second gender. He still didn’t notice when he got his own gender, a year after Kacchan did, which he even forgot some days. But he was an alpha, so he should’ve. His rut lasted a total of twenty-two hours. Almost within the norm, not yet concerning - but on the low side of things.
As the months passed, his ruts started getting progressively shorter and shorter when they should’ve been getting longer, until he barely had ruts at all. Eventually, his mother noticed and took him to a specialist.
“He’s… defective.”
That’s what Izuku heard through the crack of the door after he was told to wait outside. That’s what threw his mom into a frenzy right then and there, Izuku’s heart pounding as he heard her screech. That’s what made him lie on his bed like a corpse, hugging himself so tightly that he felt his nails deep in his flesh.
Apparently, he had a genetic alpha pheromone deficiency disorder but was still physically an “alpha.” So he had the one thing he couldn’t tolerate no matter what gender he presented as: a stupid bodily sex organ, although smaller than most - and barely recognizable behavioral traits.
Thanks to his lack of pheromones, his scent was so dim that the reason Izuku didn’t notice any difference in treatment was that he smelled like a beta. Everyone thought he was a beta. Izuku was so defective as an alpha that people couldn’t even recognize him as one.
He laughed pitifully at himself, biting back the gasps that usually came from crying.
It’s times like these when he reminds himself of what he’s been called for his entire life. A deku. He didn’t have a quirk. He didn’t act like an alpha. He could barely act like a normal human.
That’s why Izuku didn’t see Kacchan any differently when he was presented as an omega.
He couldn’t.
People didn’t really change how they treated Kacchan after he presented. It was an immediate observation.
Izuku surmised it was for two reasons.
One: Kacchan wore a copious amount of scent-blockers. He didn’t forget it a single day, and it started to become a guessing game for the school to figure out what his secondary gender was, obviously intrigued by his blank smell as a pack of nosy teenagers would be. In the end, most of them simply assumed he was an alpha based on how he acted. And two, the less obvious reason: he presented so early that no one even noticed the day it happened. Except for Izuku, of course.
He liked watching the behavior that other people didn’t notice. Particularly, smelling it.
After he had presented, his nose only grew even more sensitive. He went on meds shortly after to tamp it down a bit, but he still sniffed out plenty.
His mom, for example, had a subtle rotten lemon scent when she was wistful while dramas played in the background as she cooked dinner. The kind where the main character dramatically declares her love for the male love interest while falling into his arms. Most people would simply call her scent “sad,” but Izuku knew the specifics. Unfortunately, Izuku can’t get his mom’s husband back. He’s fatherless, and he kind of hopes it’ll stay that way.
His nose told him a lot of other things besides oddly specific feelings. Like social cues. Except he didn’t know how to act on them, so all he could do was live with the knowledge that he screwed up in a conversation.
Izuku stared out into the window, lost in thought, while his classmates were huddled in a separate group.
Case in point.
Their teacher was out grabbing papers. For a while. So his classmates felt it was safe to get up and chat instead of working. A guy was watching the door, anticipating her arrival.
Izuku tried not to look over as he heard them. They were talking loudly, probably so he’d hear on purpose. He shrunk deeper into his seat, reading back the same sentence on the worksheet over and over again like a mantra.
“I bet that damn Midoriya can’t even scent anyone!”
A guy guffawed.
“He’s barely a beta and he’s quirkless.”
For some reason, Izuku’s stomach dropped at that. He didn’t know why. He just knew that his heart felt like it would burst and that he wanted to jump off the roof. Kacchan said it before. He should take the advice.
Barely a beta.
These people smelled disgusting to Izuku. Musky and humid - one like sweat, another like rotting meat, a third like unwashed dishes. His nose wrinkled, but he knew it wasn’t just because of the putrid smell wafting throughout the room.
No. Being a hero would be more realistic than - than this.
Izuku decided that day - that he’d lock up these disgusting feelings about Kacchan, and his defective body.
He was barely a beta, after all.