Chapter Text
Jobe watches from the box he and his family are in, as Jude rubs his eyes on the big screen. His forehead creased, palm covering his face as though he’s scared to show what lay beneath.
But Jobe knows, and so does everyone else.
It was a brutal game, and Jobe was being forced to rein himself in, attempting to keep his pheromones on a tight leash even as he watched the enlarged replays of filthy Argentinian fouls. He knows that if he weren’t currently wearing scent patches, he would be saturating the room with the intense spice of a frustrated alpha. His instincts had screamed at him the entire game, wanting to leave this box and shield Jude from what was clearly an unsportsmanlike and unfair abuse of tactical fouls. He was forced to observe as the Argentinian side attempted to get under Jude’s skin, rubbing their disgusting glands across his body when defending or sliding for a tackle, and yelling out racist and sexist comments. He is at his limit.
He breathes deep, calming breaths. Beside him, his mum and dad are doing much the same. None of them speak to one another. Nothing is said about Jude or what they’ve observed in this game which seems so unjustly lost. None of them feel as though they have the right to speak; only Jude has the say, and only Jude can define what the next twenty-four hours will look like for them.
After a loss, he knows better than to try and talk to Jude. The omega is always sour after a loss, his scent a shroud of gloom and dismay, so off-putting that it makes his skin crawl. He assumes the same is very much true for him as well.
He and Jude had grown up mutually understanding this - that sometimes, it’s best not to talk about football at all, that with each other they can just be Jude and Jobe, and relieve themselves of the pressure which seemed to be so constant. It’s in these moments of silence where they find peace and solidarity within each other, as brothers. They hold an understanding of what it’s like for one another - to play at the level that they do. So when they lose, and they are together, they understand that the loss is not just the other’s but the whole family’s, and as such, despite the cloud of misery which may permeate the air of their small house in Southgate, they gather.
It was never known what secondary gender Jude or Jobe may grow up to be. It was possible at the time to do tests to determine the probability of each presentation: beta, omega, or alpha; yet their parents thought these tests to be needless. To them, it didn’t matter what secondary gender the boys would present as; it wouldn’t define or differentiate how they would be raised until the time came. So they lived a normal childhood, two milky-scented pups running around grass fields as their beta father scored goal after goal in the under leagues.
It was only when Jude turned 13 and began playing up a level that the questions surrounding his presentation arose. The boys around him had begun presenting, as they were almost two years older. He came home one day smelling like spoiled milk, and Jobe remembered wrinkling his nose. He absolutely reeked.
“Jude, why do you smell like that?” the boy asked innocently.
“Oh.. jus’ one of the guys presented at training today. Rut? I think. Thought I washed it off in the showers…” he trailed, toeing his shoes off in the entryway, mum close behind him.
“Oh.”
“Is it bad?” He looked up at Jobe, mum walking past to ruffle his hair and pull Jobe in for a side hug, which the younger tried to escape from.
“Mum. Jude stinks.” Jobe pointed out while being covered in her sweet floral smell as she lightly scented him.
“Hmm… you’re right. Maybe you two should have a cuddle, and it’ll go away, hm? Then come help with dinner.” She let him go and pushed him toward Jude, and in response he planted his feet, nose wrinkling.
“Ugh, no. You really reek.”
“Is that right?” Jude set his stuff down, a mischievous smile playing on his face as he looked down at Jobe. He was getting quite a bit taller than Jobe now, being a preteen and all. He walked over to Jobe, the younger slowly inching backward toward where their mum was before she wandered to the kitchen. Quickly, though, Jude put his arm around his neck, a chokehold, sleeves pulled up over his wrist so he could rub his scent glands on the younger boy’s nape. Jobe jerked, arms scrabbling at Jude’s, and instead of escaping, Jobe laughed shrilly as Jude tugged him to their shared room, still rubbing that god-awful scent all over him.
“Jude, stop it! It’s actually so bad.” He pretended to gag.
“You don’t like the smell of your big bro?” He feigned a frown, eyebrows upturned dramatically as he still fought to keep Jobe in his grip.
“No! I like your scent. I don’t like ‘rutting alpha’ scent!” He yelled, not being able to hold back his smile.
“Too bad! I’m gonna be an alpha, and then you’ll have to deal with it all the time!” Jude smirked, taking his arm from Jobe and shoving him into their shared nest on the floor. Jobe tumbled over, landing plushly on the soft blankets, pillows, and piles of clothes, scents of their mum, dad, and Jude enveloping him.
“Stop, you're gonna ruin the nest, and then mum will be mad at us!” Jobe exclaimed.
“Oh hush, you’re being dramatic. C’mere.” Jude patted the space slightly closer to him, and when Jobe gave a glare in return and remained where he was, he simply tugged the younger boy closer.
“Does it smell better now?” Jude questioned.
Jobe hummed as he slowly let his nose fall into the space of Jude’s neck, his small, immature glands pumping out a milky, sweet scent that smelled familiar, like coming home. The weird smell of the alpha that presented earlier slowly faded until all that was left was a sense of peace. Jude pulled Jobe in closer, arms around the smaller boy as he let his exhaustion from training bleed out of his body, his nose also tucked into his brother’s neck, a cinnamon, milky scent being released happily from the young pup.
It’s three years later, after Jude had made his debut for the Blues, that they found out Jude was not, in fact, going to be an alpha.
The air in their room had felt sticky when Jobe woke up. His nose was already wrinkled, and his ears picked up on light whines that he couldn’t really comprehend in his sleepy haze. He blinked, sunlight shining brightly through their window. The whines got louder.
“Jude?” Jobe questioned, voice hoarse from the thickness of the air, and turned to his brother’s bed, and almost gasped at the sight. Jude looked like a whole bucket of water had been splashed onto him in the middle of the night, and his brown skin had taken on this heated, reddish sheen. Jude’s eyes were closed, but his face was pinched, and he was curled into himself.
Jobe scented the air and realized. His brother was an omega. The milky sweetness that had once been his brother’s had transformed into something else. Buttery, like a biscuit, and sweet, like chocolate. He couldn’t believe it - his brother finally presented, and he was going into heat.
Normally, alphas or omegas present around the age of 14 to 15, yet Jude had turned 16 and still hadn’t had his presentation (Jobe was keen to get his soon at the time). The staff at Birmingham had claimed it was likely due to Jude’s exposure to immense pressures and stress due to going into senior-level football at such a young age, and the young pup’s biology had decided it was too much to go through a presentation, hence the delay.
But here he was. His brother, an omega! Who would have thought? Not that there’s anything wrong with being an omega; it’s just that Jobe was surprised. Jude carried all the same traits as most alphas did physically: tall, well-built (“I’m still growing!”), and posture constantly appearing strong and confident. So seeing him in his bed across the room, eyes scrunched up and breathing heavily, scent heavy and sweet in the air, body appearing so, so small, is just a bit of a shock.
A groan finally sounded from the body across the room. “…Jobe?” Jude rasped, his eyes fluttering open as his whole body shivered.
Jobe immediately rose from his bed, moving quickly to the other bed. “Jude, I think you’re in heat,” he said as calmly as he could, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he knelt close to his brother’s face.
“Heat..? No.. I can’t- what?” Jude slowly woke up, his arms trying to support him as he attempted to sit up, but they looked shaky.
“Hey, Jude, don’t move. I’m gonna get mum and bring you some water; it’s okay, don’t worry.” Jobe tried to stay as calm as possible, trying to make his milky cinnamon scent mellow out and soothe the new omega. He went to get up, but his arm was grabbed in a tight grip.
“No, Jobe, don’t leave me- please. I don’t feel good, Jobe,” he said shakily, his eyes slightly wet and puffy from sleep and his nose flaring. “Stay,” he pleaded.
And what was Jobe supposed to do? He always listened to his older brother. “Okay, okay, shh, shh,” Jobe shushed as Jude doubled over, his hand wrinkling and clenching Jobe’s sleeve; his hand where it met Jobe’s skin felt like fire. “I have to call out to mum, okay? It’ll be okay.” Jobe took his other hand and brought it to the omega’s neck, rubbing his wrist soothingly into the newly matured glands, where they were swollen and intensely red. This seemed to please Jude immensely, letting out a light purr and rubbing onto Jobe’s wrist. Jobe knew his brother was clingy as a pup, but now he really feared Jude being even more clingy as an omega.
“Mum! I think Jude is presenting!” Jobe called out to the outside hallway, still trying to soothe his older brother.
Their mum entered the room and saw Jude lying in a pool of his own sweat, and the rest was history. She looked after him throughout the heat, the family gathering together to share scents and care for Jude. They made arrangements with Birmingham to ensure that Jude got the best omega care: the right scent blockers, cycle suppressants, and pheromone controllers that would give Jude a smoother transition into his maturity as an omega. Luckily, there were hardly any prejudices against omegas playing football, even at the top levels, and in this day and age, many of the best players in the world were omegas. The only prevalent issues with omegas being in football were normally highlighted by discriminatory words and actions between players, with different nations having various beliefs in the “roles” and “rights” of omegas.
This didn’t stop Jude, however, and Jobe witnessed his brother become stronger and stronger as he grew into his frame. His scent matured; the initial sickly sweet, buttery, and chocolatey scent transformed into something that Jobe, in his mind, equates to a salted chocolate chip cookie. He became even more dominant on the pitch, and even more confident, and his omega status actually enabled him to become a lot closer with the team, becoming a pillar which could calm and organize the testy tempers of the alphas that surrounded him. At Birmingham, he soared, until eventually, he left Jobe and their dad for Dortmund.
It wasn’t too long after Jude and their mother moved to Germany that Jobe presented. His father saw him through the whole endeavor, and they had specifically kept articles of clothing, blankets, and other items of Jude and his mum for Jobe to eventually scent if he were to present as something other than a beta. He mostly spent the entirety of his presentation holed under a blanket Jude and him used in the nest their mother made them as kids. It smelt deeply of his mother’s cherry and floral scent, and Jude’s chocolate chip cookies, acting as a balm that cleared his hazy mind. His dad tried to help him with affection, but Jobe wasn’t necessarily the type, even as a newly presented alpha, and whenever his dad attempted to hug him or kiss his cheek, Jobe couldn’t hold back his alpha from growling or grumbling a little.
Eventually, towards the end of his presentation, his alpha seemed to settle in his chest. It ached to see his brother and his mother, and it was then that the comfort of his father truly helped.
The next time he saw Jude, it was like he was meeting his brother for the first time. He and his father had come to Germany to stay with Jude and their mum for a while, but their flight got delayed so they ended up having to go straight to the Dortmund game. Jude, of course, played brilliantly, and Jobe couldn’t help the way his alpha seemed to swell a bit. He really did try to control his scent of pride and jubilance, but due to the looks he was getting, he wasn’t so sure he was successful.
Jobe really hadn’t felt the effects of his presentation as much as he thought he would. Being an alpha truly didn’t change much in his life; it simply added more to everything. It was like his senses were amplified, and he was slightly more aggressive, stronger, maybe more domineering, but most of the time, he was just Jobe. Quiet, maybe a little shy, but always smiling. He had mostly become accustomed to controlling and reining in his scent and instincts, but when he saw Jude, it was like his alpha was screaming at him.
After the game, Jude found them. He smelled exactly like Jobe’s favorite cookies, and his alpha soared with happiness at finally being reunited with his entire family. Then, it suddenly soured, as his nose caught onto the tens of other alpha scents in the air, around them, on Jude. It wanted to know why there were so many alphas whose scents seemed to engulf Jude, why his brother wasn’t safely tucked into his side, what gave those alphas any right to touch or scent his brother? Before he knew it, a growl was trying to bubble from his chest as Haaland came running and slung his arm casually around Jude’s shoulders as his brother was jogging towards them, and instead of releasing it, he was choking on it, spluttering and coughing - which, arguably, was maybe more embarrassing than if he had just released the growl. His dad patted his back while his mother looked at him with an arched eyebrow. He smiled sheepishly.
Jude paused at Haaland’s antics, laughing brightly at something Haaland whispered into his ear (too close, too close), and then Jude playfully shoved the alpha away, smile still blinding. The alpha then lightly rubbed his wrist on Jude’s nape, and Jobe swore he saw red. His instincts were going haywire. He took a step forward, but luckily, his mother’s nose was sharp, and she could tell his alpha was irritated by the seemingly possessive display of Haaland openly scenting Jude, overstepping every single one of Jobe’s alpha’s boundaries. The possessive impulse made his vision blurry, and he took a strong step forward toward Haaland (who was still a few feet away from the family, walking with Jude toward them) and suddenly his mother’s hands were wrapped tightly around his arm, strongly holding him still and trying to release calming pheromones into the air.
“Jobe, breathe, boy,” she said harshly, her eyes slightly glaring in warning.
His alpha felt kicked at his mother’s reprimand, and the possessiveness ebbed away as he breathed deeply, focusing solely on the cookie scent that got ever closer. Haaland seemed to wave goodbye to Jude and winked towards them, to which Jobe sent a piercing glare in retaliation and warning: stay away from my brother. Haaland didn’t even blink, simply walking the other way toward the rest of the team.
Jude was still beaming, and Jobe, instead of stepping forward aggressively, excitedly bounded toward his brother, who suddenly stopped and waited with arms outstretched. When Jobe finally wrapped his arms around his brother, it felt like coming home. Cookies enveloped him, and he felt as though he’s finally reconnected with his other half. He breathed in greedily, unconsciously rubbing himself into Jude’s skin possessively. He didn’t realize he was doing it until Jude was squeezing his neck lightly and chuckling.
“Whoa there, feeling possessive are we? Feelin’ like you’re all grown jus’ ‘cause you’re an alpha now, mate?” he teased, pulling back from the embrace.
“Oh- I- sorry,” Jobe mumbled lightly, a smile still etched onto his face.
“Naw, it’s okay, I get it, new instincts ‘n’ that innit?” Jude smiled, his hand patting Jobe lightly, and Jobe’s alpha can’t help but feel sated at knowing that Jude now smells like him, that his scent is warning other alphas that Jude is not, in fact, available for them to put their grubby hands on. “Oh, you smug little shit! You know exactly what you’re doing,” Jude cackled, smacking him on the back. Jobe couldn’t help but laugh guiltily.
“Well, maybe you should tell the blonde oaf to keep his hands off you then,” Jobe snarked, gesturing to the group of alphas not too far away.
“Erling?” Jude raised a brow, giving Jobe a teasing look. “You’re so cute, Jobie, Erling and I are jus’ friends; no need to get all alpha and macho.”
“Still…” Jobe grumbled a bit now, eyes glaring at the tall blonde alpha. “Don’t need his scent all over you, do you?”
“I mean… it’s actually quite nice,” he replied, finger on his chin like he was thinking about it. Jobe knew that Jude was just trying to rile him up, but unfortunately, the newly presented alpha was too little too late in attempting to control this newfound possessiveness for his brother, and he growled lightly. Jude laughed even harder. “I’m messing with you, Jobe, such a cute little alpha you’ve become,” he said as he wrapped his arm around Jobe, bringing him in tightly as they walked back towards their parents, and eventually, exited the stadium.
After a while, Jobe has learned to more or less control the possessive side of himself when it comes to Jude, and really, it only comes out when he sees or smells other alphas on or around his brother. He can’t help it. He’s overprotective, he knows, but it’s his omega brother, and the bond he has with him screams at him to ward off any dangers, any threatening alphas, and to Jobe, no alpha is worth Jude’s warmly-baked cookie scent, not even Erling Haaland.
Eventually, despite Jobe’s inhibitions, the two did get together. Jobe did see how Erling seemed good for Jude, how he let the omega be himself, how he was gentle and kind, yet still protective and a force to be reckoned with. To be honest, if anyone were to be perfect for Jude, it was Erling. Doesn’t mean Jobe has to act as if he likes him though…
But Erling isn’t at this game, witnessing these alphas throw Jude to the ground and get in his face like he’s something lesser, Jobe is. Erling can’t anchor him; only Jobe can, and isn’t that an ironic thought, that he thinks Jude needs shielding. But it’s true: no matter how much Jude liked to pretend he’s something that can’t be broken down, he is vulnerable now, here, after this loss. The cameras show it - they show the vulnerability no matter how much he tries to hide it. And Jobe, who has long since gained control of his instincts, is starting to see red again.
“Jobe,” his mother says quietly, gripping his arm, trying to settle him.
“I just- need to see him,” he says with a breath, eyes closed. He opens them, looks at her, and she nods.
They get up slowly, making their way, watching the big screens wherever they walk as the Argentinians scream and celebrate. Jobe sees a group of them huddled around each other, and observes the red-headed Argentinian who had got up off the bench and celebrated in the England team’s faces, and red seethes behind his eyes once again. His mother squeezes him closer to her side.
They’re finally down by the pitch, and the huddle he had seen on the big screen is right in front of him. He can hear them speaking Spanish, laughing together, and he can’t help but feel grief-stricken for Jude - how he knows, and believes, that that should be him. And then he sees him. Jude is stalking toward the huddle. The tears Jobe thought were in his eyes are gone now, and instead, he sees something blazing in them; the steps he’s taking are purposeful and single-minded, and suddenly Jobe understands exactly what’s about to happen in front of him.
Jude’s yelling, and then his hand reaches out, hits the back of the little red-headed beta, and it’s like all hell breaks loose around him. This time, Jobe really does see red, and not even his mother can stop him from doing what he does next. There are Argentinian players, alphas, omegas, betas, scratching, hissing, and growling at Jude, hands shoving and pushing, and all Jobe can think of to do is to protect protect protect.
He runs over, long legs carrying him, and he feels like he’s underwater as he shoves an alpha off of Jude, swearing and growling, and he hears yelling, and there are hands on him, Jude, he recognizes, and he smells nauseating scents of rage and grief of so many different people, and for a second he thinks he’s going to be sick. Yet he’s still shoving, snarling at the new alpha who’s decided to challenge him, and he’s being dragged now, dragged by more than just Jude but what seems to be several other England players and staff. He’s growling, and he can’t seem to stop swearing at the Argentinians, his mouth shooting off whatever comes to mind.
It’s only when he’s in the tunnel, forced against the wall by a pair of hands, that he finally regains himself, when it’s just him and Jude, and their mother and father walking over out of the corner of his eye. He meets Jude’s eyes, and they seem proud, but there’s a whirlpool, a spiral within them, and Jobe can tell, just by softly scenting the air, that Jude is feeling so many things, and his scent of cookies is so abstract that even though he knows Jude so well, he can’t fully understand the flux of emotions. His brain seems to stall, and then his alpha takes over, screaming at him to get Jude somewhere safe, and he lets it, knowing his parents will follow. He grabs Jude by the jersey and drags him. Jude doesn’t even protest. He doesn’t say a single thing.
They’re in a room, tucked away, and Jobe feels like he can finally breathe.
“Jude I- I’m sorry,” he thinks he should start with that first. Sorry for shoving the Argentinian players, sorry England lost, sorry Jude was treated the way he was, sorry for being so fucking overprotective and not being able to control himself, sorry for not just being there. “It all happened so fast…” and he can’t meet Jude’s gaze. Actually, Jude doesn’t even seem like he’s looking at him. His expression is blank, and he says nothing. They stand there. Their parents don’t enter the room.
And then Jude moves subtly, wraps his arms around Jobe and squeezes, presses his face into Jobe’s neck and breathes and Jobe does the same, breathes him in. It feels like they’re kids again, wrapped around one another in their mother’s nest, like pups again. They’re erasing the exhaustion of the day, letting their scents bleed, and here they can exist together, no judgement, not being compared, not winning or losing; just Jude and Jobe. Jobe feels tears wet his shirt, and suddenly he wants to cry too, the scent of grief radiating so heavily off Jude that he feels himself reacting in turn. But he doesn’t cry; his alpha won’t let him. It wants to support Jude, always, wants to be strong for him, always, because Jude has always been strong for him, been that pillar, and now it’s Jobe’s turn to keep him safe, as a brother should.
And here they stand, tucked into each other, not hiding, standing strong, supporting one another’s weight, knowing that as long as the other is there, they’ll always have a best friend to help carry the load.