Chapter Text
Everyone who knew Satoru was convinced he was an alpha.
Tall, with a slender build yet endowed with muscles hard to ignore, hair that seemed imbued with the purity of the first snowfall, and eyes that captured the blue of the sky. Confidence flowed from his every step like a river of honey, thick and tempting. His chin jutted out with the same domineering pride. Captivating lips that twisted into sardonic smirks; gestures that filled the room and thunderous words accompanying the torrent of defiance he made little or no effort to conceal. A presence too heavy to ignore. A magnetism that drew vibrant lines and attracted oceans of gazes.
Only one detail slipped away. Intrinsic, even to the most reluctant senses.
Almost no one caught his scent. Attention was drawn to him naturally, just as one cannot resist gazing at a star. Yet there was no essence. Sandalwood, mint, vanilla, cinnamon... Nothing.
It was, in others' eyes, strange. Every alpha possessed a unique scent—a blend of fragrances or just one, but they all shared intense qualities: overwhelming when necessary, soothing and calming when the situation called for it. Pheromones that swept through spaces in powerful waves, capable of shifting the course of emotions and the most primal instincts. But Satoru had nothing.
Strange. Unique. But comforting.
The Gojo family prided itself on having the most powerful alphas in the country. Each held prominent positions in politics, business, and sports, with a few rebellious souls in the arts. Each generation was blessed with strong, numerous offspring and latent potential to shine and give. On the other hand, those fortunate enough to be omegas were considered the flowers of the purest and most vibrant caste, with the nectar of life flowing through their veins. Despite the dictatorship of tradition, in which omegas were a rung below the alphas, their lineage recognized that, despite the delicacy of their petals, the blossoms possessed the will and resolve to cling to the earth and grow. The omega's body changed to safeguard the future of the lineage within its womb... A vision that Satoru found difficult to fully accept.
Especially since he was the only omega in his generation. The only son.
Where his uncles had failed, hopes fell on his parents, who had conceived him rather in a hurry. An alpha leader was needed—not an omega who merely looked like an alpha. Tired of the angry stares, the intangible disappointment, and the sparks of resignation, Satoru left his hometown as soon as he came of age. Although the elders were still reluctant to acknowledge him as the last young man in the clan, he remained part of the family. Therefore, the flow of his money and inheritance never dwindled, thanks to his father's insistence and his mother's cold ferocity. As the months passed, the decision turned into resignation, followed by an order.
No one was to know Satoru's rank. Consequently, his surname.
This meant investing in pheromone suppressants, days of heat spent in solitude, and visits to the family doctor every three months.
At first, he thought that price was a small one to pay. Satoru could live alone, in perfect tranquility, surrounded by a curious tuxedo cat that followed him everywhere and a group of people who didn't get any closer than he considered necessary; friends he didn't allow to fully enter his own hideaway. The days of heat were regular; the suppressants, though invasive, were easy to obtain discreetly and easy to endure. In the big picture.
The real picture became clearer a year later. It was agonizing. And intimidating.
He had beautiful purple eyes that were the start of a piercing gaze, like an assassin's exposed dagger before it cuts into flesh. Calloused, firm hands, which seemed too large as they held the shoulders of a "drunken," smiling Satoru. Long, silky hair, sometimes pulled back into a ponytail, sometimes a dark cascade flowing down a broad back. A body full of hard lines, angles, muscles more prominent than his own, undulating and rugged.
Geto Suguru was an alpha who had come to stay. Pushing his way through like a war tank, mischievous and full of recklessness beneath that gentle facade that sometimes made Satoru's hair stand on end.
A dominant alpha who "by chance" caught the attention of his solitary inner omega.
— · —
January 4
Satoru had woken up with a strange heaviness in his chest. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found the cause curled up on its favorite spot, right above his heartbeat. It was purring loudly and looking at him with big, round amber eyes, its tiny paws kneading his chest through the worn-out sleeveless t-shirt he wore to sleep. He sighed.
“You can't be hungry. You just had dinner."
A soft meow.
“I already took you for a walk."
Another meow.
“Go to sleep."
Another meow.
“What's wrong with you?" he growled, frowning, but resting the back of his head on his pillow again, not caring that Tutz was looking at him indignantly.
He meowed again, but Satoru had already closed his eyes.
That was when he heard the knocking at the front door. Puzzled, he blinked as he tried to make out the time on his digital clock through red blurs. He managed to make out the number three when a particular ringtone startled him. Kesha gave him a cheerful and premature good morning with her song ‘TiK ToK’ as he reached out, trying to grab his cell phone with frantic gestures. He didn't need to read the caller ID before answering.
“Suguru, what the hell...?"
"Finally," Suguru snorted, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness on the other end of the line. “I thought you were unconscious. Open up already."
“What?” he croaked, rubbing his eyes with his free forearm.
“Open up. I'm outside."
Confused, he grimaced.
“What are you doing here?"
“I'll tell you when you open the door, idiot." The condescending tone Suguru used made his throat tremble with a growl. Exasperated, he listened to his friend laugh—a soft, energetic laugh even though it was three in the morning. He hung up.
He took a breath and sat up. The blankets slid down from his torso, and so did Tutz. The cat just looked at him inquiringly, but, at the same time, seemed to scold him with a knowing ‘I told you so.’ Huffing, he got out of bed and hissed as the cold embraced him, replacing the warmth of his bed. Still, he walked barefoot across the carpeted floor of his room, grabbing the first hoodie he found on the edge of his bed. Tutz followed him closely, happy, as, between poorly concealed shivers, he opened the front door.
He was met by a strong, pungent wave, with a slight smoky taste he felt at the back of his throat. Coffee competing with an essence that always reminded him of the leaves of an ancient, leafy tree. He cleared his throat, and Suguru raised an eyebrow, looking up at him from the few centimeters that made him shorter.
“Is that my hoodie?"
“Yeah," he replied flatly. It wasn't exactly stolen, since Suguru hadn't paid much attention to his question when he'd borrowed it. His friend wore clothes a few sizes too big for him, so the sweatshirt was huge on Satoru—soft and cozy. “So?"
“Give it back," Suguru muttered. A word meant to be a subtle joke that his senses interpreted as an order. Satoru scoffed, letting out a little snort to mask the effect. The other shook his head, a smile dancing on his lips. “Look, I know it's early..."
“Three in the morning."
“I know it's early," he repeated, his tone a little more irritated. He shot him a sharp look. “But you're the only one who would open the door for me. Can I come in?"
Satoru scanned him from head to toe. The frown on his face deepened slightly as he took him in, and Suguru shifted uncomfortably, aware he was being scrutinized. His clothes didn't suit his body, especially given the temperature outside; he must have been freezing before he entered the building. A loose-fitting, dark t-shirt and ripped jeans. His sleepy mind searched through the archives of his memory until he found the invitation to a birthday party he'd turned down. And it was as if the ‘loading page’ circle had finally turned into an exclamation point. With a drawn-out “Ah," Satoru stepped aside, a signal for him to finally enter the apartment. Suguru gave him a nudge, stifling a laugh.
“Shoko left you out again. " It wasn't a question. Shoko was Suguru's roommate; both were alphas and close friends. He could see the girl shooting him a warning glance, only for him to ignore it with olympian nonchalance.
“I forgot my keys," Suguru nodded, leaning forward to pick up Tutz. The cat happily let him.
“Fifth time this year, and it's only been three days," Satoru said with a sarcastic edge.
“Shut up." Suguru cradled his pet in his hands and against his chest. Tutz curled up into a cozy little ball in the alpha's strong arms.
“So?"
“I can't get into my apartment, and I have no plans on staying out."
“And that's why you came here."
“Yeah."
“Because I'm a generous soul who'll always welcome you. Of course," he grumbled. He turned on the light in the short hallway leading to the kitchen, then flipped the switches to partially illuminate the living room, while Suguru took a seat on one of the sofas. “Want some tea?" he offered, anyway.
He could perfectly picture Suguru's crooked smile. The pit of his stomach was flooded with a tingling sensation he wanted to describe as an offense.
“How kind. Yes."
He placed the pot on the stove after pouring in a generous amount of water. Even if Suguru's alpha essence had hints of coffee, the guy preferred tea. So he rummaged through the perfect chaos of his kitchen cabinets until he found the right package, and began to prepare it. While the water boiled, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder toward the living room. Suguru was still there, playing with the cat. It was sweet, thinking of the times when he seemed so distant from certain animals but didn't hesitate to show affection toward Satoru's pet. It didn't take him long to wonder if he'd be the same with children. It was true that he'd never seen him interact with one, yet it wasn't hard to imagine two possible outcomes: he'd end up pushing them aside, finding them annoying and unbearable... or he'd offer them the same warmth, if not more. Would he give all his love to his pups, when he had them? The answer came quickly. Of course he would. He suppressed a smile the moment he realized the direction his thoughts were taking. For an instant, he'd glimpsed an image of himself, giving him all the children he wanted, as the omega Suguru didn't know he was.
His lips tightened. He had followed his clan's rules with frivolous concern, convinced that no one would ever be good enough for him. Besides, filling his womb with the seed of some hotheaded alpha wasn't exactly his greatest aspiration in life. So, just like everyone else, his friend's situation was at the same impasse. He didn't know he was an omega. But the image of Suguru being the father of his pups was cruel, because it caused a flutter in his chest and a warmth in his throat that made him want-...
His chest tightened with emptiness. No. He didn't want anything. He had no reason to.
He had worked hard to suppress his own scent with a strict routine that consisted of taking pills and strategically placing patches on his skin. There were aspects of his natural personality that made it easier for him to act in front of people, traits that were seen as characteristic of an alpha, but that wasn't all. Satoru mimicked the postures of other dominant alphas, including the defensive growl, when they themselves, or something they owned, felt threatened. Omegas had one, but it only surfaced when they needed to protect their young; so Satoru forced himself to act as if he were defending his pups so often that it had become as natural as blinking. He couldn't throw all that away for Suguru.
For Suguru. He looked so familiar and at ease on the sofa. As imposing as a monument to strength and conquest. With the gentleness of a breeze and the intensity of an earthquake. The corners of his eyes stung, and he forced himself to look away and focus on the tea.
Once the time had passed, he poured two enormous cups, which, held by Satoru's long, slender fingers, looked as small as any other. Blinking repeatedly, he returned to the living room and handed one to his friend. Suguru accepted it with a simple gesture. He took a seat beside him.
“Did you bring someone?"
“What...?"
Suguru tapped the bridge of his own nose.
“The scent. It smells like strawberries and... whipped cream."
The sip of tea nearly got stuck in Satoru's throat.
Suppressing his own scent didn't mean he didn't know what it smelled like. His heart pounded violently in his chest, with a burning sensation filling the veins in his arms and thighs.
“Really?"
Suguru frowned.
“Don't get me wrong. It smells nice—it even has hints of vanilla, but..."
He was wearing patches, and his suppressant doses were the same as usual. What was it? His last visit with his doctor had assured him that everything was still in order. What could it be...?
“I don't know. It's a little funny that you said you hadn't brought anyone back to your place. And yet it smells like a little omega was hanging around here."
Satoru sank into the cushions, hoping Suguru wouldn't turn his head and see the paleness he knew was washing over his face.
People had assumed that his alpha heat—his so-called rut—was intense and violent, which was why he needed a few days in isolation. Of course, his omega heat was, in fact, intense and violent, because every fiber of his body screamed with the need for his omega to mate with someone, and howled when he couldn't find the partner he knew he didn't have. His scent permeated the entire apartment, and Satoru forced himself to take cold showers and press himself against the icy walls just to quell the flames of unfulfilled desire. When his mind returned to normal and his whimpering subsided, he would meticulously clean every area with almost obsessive care. This time was no different from the others. So, what...?
A piece of fabric, smelling exactly like him, landed on his face.
“Tutz brought it to me," Suguru said in the same tone a father uses when he discovers his son has a pretty girlfriend on the sly.
Damn that cat.
“Ah," he laughed, with a mix of relief and panic. “Yeah, uh... I had to clean up because, you know, sometimes it's a mess..."
“I mean... a scent like that... I don't think it would bother me."
“It's just that it can be a little cloying— what?" he interrupted himself the very moment his brain processed what his friend's words might mean. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Suguru took a sip of his tea and shrugged.
“I wouldn't mind," he repeated. “It smells really good."
He blinked once. Then twice. His inner omega pricked up its ears, intrigued yet just as puzzled as his rational self.
Suguru thought he smelled good.
He took the piece of fabric in his hand, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers.
“I... I guess, I'm sorry you have to smell this..."
“Don't apologize. It's fine. I've made you smell the omegas I bring back to the apartment." Suguru snorted.
It was true. After his friend's ruts, Shoko and Satoru tended to arrive at the place and be greeted by a cocktail of scents. Sweet and tart, bubblegum, mint, grape, apple. Passing omegas. And the one that dominated, purely and unquestionably Suguru: spicy herbs and smoky coffee. Shoko used to fake gagging and rush to open all the windows, while Satoru would remain silent for three seconds to allow himself to sniff the alpha essence floating in the air.
“Well, it's true," he forced a dry laugh out of his throat.
They remained silent for a while. He refused to look at Suguru beyond his broad thighs as he wrestled bare-handed with a certain hidden omega who was pushing excitedly at the revelation that his scent was pleasant. With every sip of his tea, he sent the invigorating emotion further and further away to a remote place.
“Can I tell you something, from alpha... to alpha?" Suguru tapped the tips of his fingernails against the ceramic of the cup.
“You can," he conceded with a low nod—a pure alpha gesture, trying not to dwell on the suspicious pause.
“You smell good, too."
He had to take a sharp breath that made his chest swell, covering it up with a laugh that sounded like a growl. He brushed away the soft tingling on his back.
“Don't tell me."
“Yeah. I mean, your lemon stench isn't always so... well, stinky." Suguru's leg bumped against his with a friendly touch.
He blinked, his lips tightening in an attempt to extinguish the light in his expression.
“Thanks." He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling. His scent was a complex blend that wasn't based solely on strawberries and whipped cream. There were also certain notes of lemon, a scent that occasionally escaped the suppressors, so faint, so subtle. They were those pheromones that almost no one noticed. But he saw no problem with it. Such scents could go unnoticed and be mistaken for those of an alpha.
He drank the rest of his tea in one gulp. He balanced the cup in his hands, playing with it like a plastic ball.
“Your scent is... bearable," he said, a stifled compliment.
Suguru laughed heartily.
“Just bearable?"
“I'm making an effort, okay?" he muttered.
Tutz rubbed against his calves. It wasn't until he felt that small source of heat that he jumped.
“Are you cold? I didn't turn on the heat..." Satoru glanced sideways at his friend, suddenly remembering that his clothes weren't covering him enough.
His heat provided more than enough warmth he didn't need additional temperature. It had only been a couple of days since that hellish period had ended, but he still felt a few lingering waves of warmth in the form of tingling sensations. The heater was almost unbearable.
“I'm fine... I think." Suguru rubbed his bare forearms once.
“Do you want your... hoodie?" he offered without thinking.
The other paused.
“No."
Another moment of silence. Tutz jumped onto his lap with a purr, and he stroked the cat's soft black fur with one hand, while the feline sniffed the rim of the empty cup. It was pleasant. Despite the hour—or rather, thanks to it, they found it easy to find peace amid the chaos of the city. The lights were partially dimmed, the faint bustle of the streets muffled by the height and a distant, hypnotic hum. It would have been completely peaceful were it not for the way his skin prickled at the realization of being so close to an alpha who was as bright as a beacon. Suguru tilted his head. His hair, pulled back into a half-ponytail, fell over his shoulder. Satoru had to fight his peripheral vision and look at the Christmas vase behind his friend, so as not to arouse any suspicion of how tempting it was for him to bring his face closer to smell the dark strands.
“Can I make you an indecent proposal?" The question hung in the air. Satoru huffed, slightly drawn in by his words.
He recognized that tone of voice. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the question followed by something that, in fact, seemed unthinkable to him. Satoru frowned, even as a flutter of excitement stirred in his chest.
“You're not moving in here."
Suguru rotated his torso to look directly at him with wide eyes. Satoru turned his head away.
“Pleeease."
Satoru clenched his hand around the mug. The warm ceramic did nothing to distract him from the urge to say yes. He just shot him a look that was meant to be furious, but, because of the amusement he felt at seeing an alpha like his friend on the verge of begging, his annoyance was torn apart.
“Of course not."
“I'll be good."
“We're going to kill each other, Suguru."
In theory. Because two dominant alphas couldn't live in the same space. Too territorial. So he had to stick with that idea.
“I promise not to kill you first."
“You promised not to leave me alone at the welcome party," he reminded him with an angry gesture.
“That was once. It'll be different. I'll sleep in the bathroom."
“No."
“I'll climb in through the window if I forget my keys."
“On the tenth floor. I want to see that."
Suguru leaned forward. A few inches closer, the cushion sank under his weight, and Satoru resisted the urge to pull away—or to move closer, whatever that sudden tension in his neck might mean. An intense throbbing rose to his throat in waves of heat. He narrowed his eyes, sensing what the alpha intended to do. His senses turned like a compass needle toward the north.
“Don't you dare use your pestilence on me," he growled, still not defensive, but on alert.
“I'm not doing anything," Suguru stammered. Still, he took a mischievous leap forward, tempting him, though he retreated back to his spot, as if to taunt him.
A blush crept up his cheeks with a painfully familiar heat. He placed his forearm on Suguru's collarbones and pushed him away.
“Get out of the way," he muttered, lowering his head a couple of inches so the other wouldn't see the color in his skin.
“Pleeease."
“No way!"
“Don't be mean to me."
“Shut up..." he spat, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Don't be stupid. The only reason you get along with Shoko is because she's recessive. You know that."
Suguru puffed out his thin, pink lips, so close to Satoru's yet separated from them by a painful distance of inches turned into miles. He knew it was just a thoughtless joke, meant to convince him. It was working, but not in the way Suguru had intended. It wasn't just a tender gesture unbecoming of his dominance, which already made it a detail hard to overlook. It was like a piece of candy he had to unwrap with his own teeth and brush against with the tip of his tongue. He had to hiss to calm the boiling blood in his spine.
“No. Don't pout."
He tore his gaze away from Suguru's mouth to meet his beaten-puppy stare. Bright, round. Just like Tutz's gaze, but in purple. His frown deepened in dissonance with his gaping omega.
“Get that out of my sight."
He raised his arm to cover the alpha's face with his hand. His face was pressed against his palm, eliciting a sweet tingling sensation that ran through his bicep. Suguru's whimper was pitiful. He tensed his fingers and shook the other's head in response to his own tickling.
“Is that how you call yourself an alpha, Geto?"
Obviously. Yes. But he couldn't afford to falter in his response.
He hadn't intended to list his reasons that night. While it was a simple explanation in his own mind, putting it into words would be an ordeal; filling in the gaps in his answers wasn't going to be a task he could finish even in a single afternoon. As perceptive as he was, Suguru tended to press the issue when he sensed something was wrong or didn't quite fit—whether out of prior knowledge or sheer instinct. He was certain Suguru would demand a longer explanation, and of course he'd notice the spaces Satoru left. Better to refuse outright now, when he knew the alpha had no intention of delving into the subject, only of playing the pity card.
“Please?" he continued, his voice weaker and smaller, muffled by Satoru's skin still pressed against his face. His breath was warm, like wisps curling gently across the smooth surface.
“Stop fucking around." His voice grew a little rough. Not because of the annoyance, but because of the way the alpha's breath slid silkily over his hand. His fingers trembled around Suguru's features.
The alpha grumbled, pulling away. Satoru's hand lingered in position for half a second too long; the contrast of the cold caressing his skin caused him to clench his fist, resisting the urge to touch Suguru's face again. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa and looked at his friend with an irritation that failed to fully mask his eyes.
“Shoko threatened to kick me out..." Suguru muttered, settling into the corner of the sofa. He bent his leg and rested his knee on the cushions.
“Well, then just hold onto those damn keys yourself," he cut in.
“Do I seem like such a bad choice to you?"
The change in Suguru's tone made him look at him more closely than he had allowed himself to do until then. His friend was looking at him with a mixture of restrained amusement, but also a glimmer of doubt that softened his brow. The faint trace of that change brushed against the wall of his denial. Satoru grimaced as he sensed the subtlety that had managed to slip through.
Stop. No. What did all this mean? His mind tried to scan for any other signals beyond what his eyes perceived. He had noticed that glint, true, but was there something else? Satoru focused his gaze. His eyes crept over Suguru's figure, searching for a clue in his posture or some other detail that might have slipped past him. He had no way of choosing between truth and jest. His flustered thoughts required a little more effort to properly discern even a hint of deception. If it was a prank, well, it was simple.
He clenched his teeth. A slight waver in his resolve didn't have to mean anything. Despite the impulse leaping like a stray particle in his chest, a phrase struggling to break through the confines of his resolve, contrary to what he should have said.
“Yeah," he sighed.
Suguru gasped, offended, before smacking him on the back of the neck with a pillow. Satoru let out a chuckle and grabbed another one to land a couple of quick, hard blows on his face. Tutz remained calm on his lap, ignoring their squabble with the dignity of a cat. With a third and final strike, Satoru held the cushion pressed against Suguru's cheek until Suguru let out a low growl that didn't quite reach the right level of menace. He shrugged and moved the cushion away.
“There."
His friend grumbled for a few more seconds before crossing his arms and going still. Satoru chose to distract himself with the Christmas flower arrangement in the center of the table, in the middle of the living room, rather than the slightly exasperated posture that, somehow, stirred his bones with warmth. He clicked his lips, and Suguru snorted.
“Would you at least give me a copy of your keys...?"
Satoru's neck cracked as he turned to look at him so quickly.
“Why are you insisting so much?"
“Do you want the honest answer?" Suguru looked at him, tilting his head.
“At this rate, any answer will do."
His friend nodded, rolling his eyes.
“Well... you live near campus."
“Uh-huh, so? That doesn't mean I'll let you live here."
“No, but you could be a good refuge."
A... What?
“A refuge from what...?" Satoru stumbled over his own words before Suguru cut him off, leaving him no chance to untangle his tongue from his racing heart—or, at least, to make sense of the sentence.
“And you always have food, there's always clean water, and light, and, I don't know..." his friend continued, without looking at him, his shoulders raised just a few millimeters. “You know I have keys to everything."
“And yet you still forget them," he muttered, trying to find a counterpoint to the weight of Suguru's verbiage.
“That's not the case. The case is..." At last, he made eye contact, in a shaky gaze that Satoru couldn't tell if it was due to himself or something else. “That you're not only one of the few who let me in at this hour, but also..." His neat teeth caught his lower lip in a fleeting bite. “What would happen if something happened to you while you're here and no one...?" His voice trailed off as he rubbed the back of his hand with three fingers.
Satoru's ears were flooded with a piercing ringing. Suguru was worried about him, about his well-being. The temperature in the room seemed to rise a couple of degrees, as if a faint, premature wave of spring had begun. It was a friendly concern he hadn't had the fortune to witness in a long time, much less receive, accustomed as he was to accepting the care of two people he hadn't seen since he turned nineteen—a care that gradually faded away when he chose solitude. It meant that, in his eyes, whatever happened to Satoru was of great importance, even if he was an arrogant and scandalous ‘alpha’ capable of fending for himself, even with his tendency to keep others out of his space. It had to be that he represented an important relationship in his life, didn't it? It must be an important bond. Important.
He cares about you.
“If something happened to me, I'd call you, don't you think?" His voice came out a little choked.
He cares about you.
Suguru looked at him again, this time with an indecipherable haze crossing the purple of his irises. Between the dim light and his own confusion, his attempt to figure it out sank like a blade hitting mud.
“What if you can't?"
He cares about you.
Satoru let out a soft sigh. But the thought was still there, throbbing beneath his skin. It wasn't just anyone who was saying he'd like to look out for him.
“Suguru..." he said in a whisper. He had to shake his head slightly, despite the stiffness that betrayed a different kind of reluctance. “I have to... let me think about it, okay?" he smiled, finally. His own gesture felt old-fashioned and somewhat amusing, like someone giving in to a childish whim. Although the alpha's request was hardly that. “Who knows who you'll decide to bring in here."
Suguru gave him a lovely smile that made his heart skip three beats.
“I'll only bring people worthy of the great alpha Ikeda Satoru," he joked in the tone of voice a butler from two centuries ago might have used. “May the heavens have mercy on anyone who dares to trespass on his property.
“You'd better. Bastard." He laughed heartily.
Tutz meowed, apparently pleased with the idea.
It wasn't long after that they decided it was time to go to sleep. Satoru offered Suguru the guest room, but Suguru politely declined, preferring to stay in the living room. Somewhat perplexed, Satoru shrugged and brought him pillows and thick blankets, as well as turning the heat up to a comfortable temperature. Since he didn't have any other suitable clothes to lend him—ones that didn't smell too much like an omega, and despite the alpha's refusal, he took off the hoodie and tossed it to him. He stood at the entrance to the hallway, watching as Suguru seemed to build his own nest on the sofa. The idea sent a flutter through his gut. The mere thought that he might create one led to him finding the concept appealing, and, furthermore, he might like it when Satoru made...
Enough. Suguru couldn't like his nest if he never made it.
He hurried to his room and closed the door slightly, just in case his traitorous cat had a change of heart and decided to leave Suguru to come back to him. He ruffled his hair and lay down on the cold bed, pulling the blankets over himself. It wasn't the first time he'd slept in the same room as the alpha. There were times when it was inevitable for him and his friends to fall asleep in a car after a long trip or a wild party. So it was easy for him to silence the whining of his inner omega, who was begging him to go back to the living room and curl up against someone else's chest and who seemed especially spoiled and demanding that night. With one last, weak squeak, it complained.
“Shut up," he muttered, closing his eyes.
— · —
Satoru looks adorable in that hoodie.
Had Satoru brought someone home? Why didn't he tell him?
Satoru is going to hate the idea. Stop. No. Wait. He said he'd think about it. That's not a ‘no.’ Oh, score.
The pillows smell like lemon... Ah, Tutz is kneading his stomach. How cute. But, also... ouch.
What's that noise...?
— · —
Satoru woke up again with a groan, about six hours later. Sunlight streamed into his room through the curtains, breaking into thin silver beams. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned, then stretched. Before his mind could register that he wasn't alone in his apartment, a delicious aroma of fried rice, eggs, and bacon reached his nose, overwhelming every other thought. He sat up, perching on the edge of his bed and turning his torso toward the chair when his eyes didn't spot a familiar hoodie. Not finding it, he frowned and huffed. He'd have to find another one. As he stood up, he noticed his body wasn't complaining about the usual cold draft in his home. The heat was on. He raised his eyebrows. Of course. Suguru.
With nothing more to wear than his t-shirt and shorts, he headed to the bathroom. The reflection that greeted him in the mirror was the usual one, though this morning he decided to wet his fingers and try to smooth out a few strands of his white hair. Unsatisfied, he walked down the wide hallway until he reached the living room. Across the space was a small section with decorative figures on a railing. Behind them, Suguru's figure danced, his hair loose and tousled, wrapped in his own hoodie, and, much to Satoru's misfortune, wearing only his underwear (dark and temptingly short... wow) beneath it. Trying not to let the color and shape act as a direct magnet for his eyes, he looked for Suguru's expression, which didn't change as he said:
“Good morning." Calm. Casual. As if Satoru hadn't been resisting the urge to look him up and down again.
Suguru didn't stop focusing on serving the dishes. He didn't lift his face, but Satoru could see the shadow of a smile.
“Who gave you permission to cook?" he scoffed, frowning—though it lasted no more than two seconds.
Suguru finally let the laughter show and shrugged.
“I have to convince you to give me your keys somehow."
“Very kind of you," he said, tensely, as he approached the large kitchen table. His stomach growled with hunger, accompanied by a sudden warm sensation that washed over his chest as he realized how the alpha had prepared breakfast. Carefully, each portion set apart from the others to avoid combinations Satoru wouldn't like, and accompanying the plate, a large mug of hot chocolate. A little boy's tastes, but ones Suguru still remembered. "”ou're doing an excellent job, if you're trying to manipulate me," he murmured, without any irritation in his tone. More captivated than annoyed.
“Thanks." Suguru smiled smugly, gesturing for him to take a seat.
As he pulled a chair back and sat down, Satoru let out a soft sigh meant to ease the turmoil Suguru's actions were creating inside him. It was supposed to be an everyday occurrence, even mockingly infuriating, knowing it was a method to get what he wanted. But why did it feel so sweet? It turned out to be more than that; it was a small moment that filled the void of weeks spent in solitude, like a harmonization in a temple that had been silent for years. Simple yet captivating on that vast map of suppression. It robbed him of all the strength to feign annoyance, so he decided to remain silent while he ate breakfast, feeling his cat rub against his bare calves.
“I fed Tutz already," Suguru said before bringing his cup to his lips. “Don't overfeed him."
“I'm not trying to fatten him up." He suppressed a smile as he chewed on a piece of bacon. So he'd fed his pet, too. Bothering himself like that only added another pound to his scale, which was already precariously tilting toward a dangerous side.
“He's already fat. He's a ball."
Satoru inhaled sharply, on purpose.
“Don't call him that. He's not fat, and he's certainly not a ball," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes as he snorted with laughter.
“Of course he is. He's chubby."
“Suguru, you have one second to stop calling my cat fat."
Faced with the threat, the alpha fixed his gaze on him, defiantly.
“Sure. Fine. He has broad bones."
Satoru let out a soft burst of laughter and kicked Suguru's leg under the table. Suguru's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he had no choice but to brace himself for the return blow. Alphas were strong by nature, but Suguru, not content with his natural gifts, worked out every day; and of course, he saw no need to hold back when he was supposed to be with someone of his own rank. He stifled a scream in his throat when, sure enough, the impact felt like it had come from a boulder. Insulting him, Mama and Papa Geto in every language he knew, in his mind, Satoru swallowed his tears as he felt the pain reach his hip. He'd managed to move his leg a little, and with any luck, his bones would be intact. Tense, he didn't even try to fight back anymore.
“Yeah. Okay. Broad bones..." he agreed, sipping his hot chocolate, hoping Suguru wouldn't notice the grimace on his lips. “And full of love."
Suguru seemed satisfied, nodding and returning to his breakfast, but not before casting another glance his way—almost out of the corner of his eye, perhaps a little different from mockery—that made the palms of his hands tingle. He didn't dare look at him, all too aware of his still teary eyes.
Satoru had eaten a little more than half his plate when Suguru cleared his throat.
“So..."
He knew it. That look of an abandoned puppy again. Satoru pursed his lips slightly. Almost dragging the weight of his refusal behind him, he decided to plant his feet firmly on the ground. To shake off all the sensations clinging to his body like cotton fuzz. It was a terrible idea, and he'd always known it. His omega grumbled once more, clearly displeased by his decision.
“No, I'm not going to give you the keys to the apartment."
— · —
January 5
Which was a fucking lie, because they went out together to get an exact copy of his keys and, also, the card that was occasionally required at the front desk.