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When Ryland finally leaves the lab, it's dark. The street lights dotted along the pathways are lit, gently guiding Ryland back to his mobile home. It's quiet. Mechanical whirring and leaves rustling fill the silence along with the crunch of his footsteps.
By the time he reaches the steps to his porch, Ryland's shoulders are loose. His sweater resting in the crook of his arm and scent patches crumbled in his palm. Interestingly, there’s a figure leaning against his front door. The porch light—for once—is on, so Ryland gets a decent look at the stranger. He's tall, maybe an inch or so taller than Ryland, and has a broad torso. The clothes he’s wearing are tightly fitted to his body, showing off each edge of muscle in the low light. His eyes are trained on Ryland hovering at the bottom of the steps.
Gray eyes trace the shape of Ryland's body, silently inspecting every inch of him. Slowly, the stranger straightens up.
“Dr. Ryland Grace?” He asks, voice gruff.
“Ye-yes, um, hello…” Ryland stutters. "Who are you exactly?”
“You can call me Six. I’m your new guard.”
With that, Six steps off the porch, brushing Ryland's shoulder as he walks toward the main path, clearly not interested in small talk. Ryland watches his head swivel as he scans the area. Huffing slightly, Ryland turns back to his home and goes inside.
There’s the crunch of footsteps outside as Ryland does his nightly routine. A peek out of his window tells him it’s Six doing a lap around the small building, looking for potential danger.
There seems to be a scowl on his face, though it's hard to tell in the virtually nonexistent light behind the building. Ryland watches until his new guard rounds the corner of his home and back into the dark. Figuring there’s nothing he can really do about this person, Ryland decides to just go to bed. His nest is screaming his name after such a long day. Sleep takes over the moment his head lands on the pillow. He doesn’t even hear his front door shut or the footsteps into his bedroom.
The smell is sticking to his nostrils. No amount of fresh air or the scent of nearby flowers could clear it. Court is losing his mind. All he did was brush shoulders with his new assignment, and suddenly all he could smell is Dr. Ryland Grace.
From what he knows, Grace is an omega. That much was on the background information document he read over during his flight. Dr. Grace is a man who will stand up for himself, even in a room full of alphas who can’t bother to give him the time of day—he even called one of them a “staggering waste of carbon” during the UNESCO conference. Based on the photos he was given, the man visibly differs from other omegas. He’s barely two inches shorter than Court and seems to have longer fangs than average. He’s soft, but mostly in his outfit choices and quirks. Overall, Dr. Grace is an interesting assignment to read about.
But reading is one thing, smelling is another. From a single touch, he took over Court's nose. Most of the time, Court doesn’t notice the scents of others. He doesn’t even use his nose to track assignments down—partially due to how many of them use strong scent blockers—because he does his work in crowded or sterile environments. So this is new.
Ryland Grace smells like petrichor and amber. It makes Court want to lay back in a forest clearing and watch the clouds roll in. To feel the initial drops of rain before running for cover and watch the world turn gray. He wants to share that with someone, arms wrapped around their waist and hips swaying to a silent rhythm.
That’s new.
The idea makes Court stop in his tracks. Never once has the idea of loving someone come so vividly to the alpha. He doesn’t do people. His longest relationships are the ones he developed with Fitz and Claire, becoming what is essentially her older brother. Even then, he keeps the two at arm's length to keep them as safe as possible. While they understand his work, Court doesn’t want to risk anything.
He’s standing on the porch again, staring at the front door. There isn’t any danger around, Court has been here for hours before Grace got home. Nothing has made a single sound. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check that the door is locked.
It isn’t.
With a heavy sigh, Court enters the building, making sure to actually turn the lock and deadbolt before scanning the space.
It’s cozy. The kitchen is small and looks mostly unused. There is a kettle resting on the stove that has some indication of being put over a flame. The counter is empty outside of a mug full of pens on the corner closest to the small dining table, which is covered in paper. Two chairs are askew, indicating Grace had some sort of meeting with someone—likely Eva Stratt, the woman who hired Court a couple days ago. On the other side of the room, there is a small living room set up. It's just a loveseat facing a TV with a side table to its left and Grace's sweater draped along its back.
The wall behind the TV tapers into a hallway that holds two doors. Court walks slowly as he enters the hall, keeping his steps as quiet as possible. On his left, the first door is open. As expected, it leads to the bathroom. The only thing of note is the shower curtain sports the periodic table with…Grace's face in the middle? Odd.
Moving on from that, Court continues to the door at the end of the hall. There are soft snores echoing from the cracked door, as well as Grace's gentle scent. Court perks up immediately. With a light push, the door glides open, giving Court the full view of the bedroom. It’s a mess. In the corner is Grace's bed, where he is currently curled into his nest. Somehow, it's the most organized part of the room. Everywhere else looks like a grenade went off.
Grace's bag is thrown down and spewing its contents across the floor. It sits next to a very empty laundry hamper. Across the floor are various articles of clothing, most of which seem to sport a science pun. Incredible that such an intelligent and highly regarded biologist would be so messy.
Shuffling brings Courts attention back to Grace. The omega has rolled over in his sleep, now facing Court as he grumbles about something nonsensical. It’s sweet, and Court decides he has to leave the room, now.
As gingerly as he can, Court closes the bedroom door and returns to the living room. He has accommodations nearby to sleep at. So, without thinking too hard about it, he grabs the sweater off the loveseat and slips out through a window.
Ryland is used to the hovering of guards, he’s had a couple since working for Stratt. Carl was with him for a while before he returned to Stratt’s side. The other few didn’t really care to chat. Heck, some of them didn’t even speak English. So Ryland just adapted to the silent hovering.
Six is different, though. He seems to take his work more seriously than the rest. Where the others would stand in the entryway all day, Six does laps. He checks every entrance multiple times. Six keeps his head on a constant swivel, and yet, Ryland feels like those gray eyes never quite leave him. It’d be one thing if Six were interested in idle chatter, but he doesn’t give much of a response to anything. The only thing Ryland knows about the man is that he likes to chew gum.
Anytime they walk anywhere, Six stays at least 3 feet behind. Close enough to grab Ryland but far enough that he isn’t included in conversation. On the days that Stratt visits, Carl in tow, Six drifts further away. He doesn’t interact with Carl or Stratt unless necessary.
It’s a little maddening for Ryland. He would like to know who the man guarding him is, but he doesn’t even get the respect of a real name. What the fudge kind of name is Six? It’s a code name for sure, but a weird one. Easy to call out at least.
Another odd thing Ryland has noticed is the occasional article of clothing going missing from his home. Sure, he misplaces stuff all the time, but his fox sweater? He wears that so often that it disappearing stressed him out for a couple days. Stratt almost formed a search team when she found out. He didn’t even tell her, she just noticed he hadn’t worn it and caught a small whiff of Ryland's stressed scent.
Almost a week later, Ryland found it again. It was under his bed, smelling weirdly clean, but it was back so he didn’t care. Some of his shirts and boxers have stayed away, though. Whatever, it just means he’ll have to do laundry a little more frequently.
Eventually, he and Stratt have to fly out for a meeting overseas, which means Carl and Six get to tag along. They take a private jet, one spacious enough to allow the four to spread out. Unsurprisingly, Six put himself in the corner by a window while the other three sit together. The plane is silent, everyone doing their own thing until a snore rumbled through it.
Heads turn to the source, discovering Six asleep in his seat, chin tucked to his chest. He actually looks peaceful for once in his life. The sight causes Stratt to snort softly before returning to her paper, and Carl just shakes his head as he turns back to the book in his hand. Ryland, however, can’t quite look away. This is the first time Six has been unguarded around Ryland.
It didn’t last long, though. As if sensing Ryland's (obvious) stare, Six pops his head back up, making Ryland whip back around in his seat as the other man does a quick scan. Ryland doesn’t turn around the rest of the flight, opting to stare at the ceiling the rest of the time.
By the time they land, night has fallen. The small crew pile into a car headed to their hotel for the night. Stratt prefers to get everything done the same day, but the schedule didn’t work in her favor this time, they landed at 1 am, which means it’s straight to bed. Apparently, she booked 3 rooms this time around. One for her, one for Carl, and one for Ryland to share with Six. Stratt has a knowing look on her face as she hands Ryland and Six their room keys. One that holds some sort of weight that Ryland can’t read. He caught on quick enough, however.
She was evil. The room booked for Six and Ryland holds a single, king-sized bed. To his relief, the bathroom has a door at least. Aside from that, however, the only thing of note is the bed. There is no couch or anything more than a chair in the corner that looks uncomfortable.
With a heavy sigh, Ryland turns to look at Six, who is standing 3 feet away as always, “I’m going to check with the front desk. There is no way this is correct.” Six grasps Ryland's bicep as he tries to walk past.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t planning to sleep much anyway,” is all Six said before turning towards the door himself. His grip dropped from Ryland's arm.
“You aren’t going to sleep? Why not?" Ryland questioned, too tired to really care, “If it's the bed, I’m sure we can quickly sort this out with the front desk. They have to have a double somewhere in here.”
All he gets is a grunt in response before Six is out the door. Ryland just sighs and turns back to the bed. With a shrug, he toes off his shoes and sets his backpack against the wall. He’s already dressed in comfortable clothes, so he flops onto the bed. It’s soft, perfect for Ryland to curl under the duvet and stare off into space for a bit. At some point, he peels his scent blocker off. Six said he wasn’t going to sleep, which likely meant wandering the building and standing outside until dawn. Ryland nods off, mindlessly rubbing his wrist along the duvet as he does so.
Court doesn’t go far, he paces up and down the hallway, occasionally idling by the door before resuming. He can tell Grace has settled in already. There hasn’t been a single noise from the room for at least an hour, which meant Court could enter the room again. He knows Grace is a deep sleeper, so he won’t be disturbed by Court coming in. What Court is concerned about is if he removed his scent blockers or not.
It’s incredibly likely, Grace always takes his blockers off before bed. Sometimes he even takes them off before starting his walk home for the night. It drives Court crazy. Even the slightest hint of the omega's scent gets stuck in Court's nose for hours. He’s addicted. He’d taken to stealing clothes on occasion to have something comforting in his borrowed bed. So far, he only returned one item, and that was the first one he ever took—the fox sweater.
Grace thought he looked calm after Court had taken it, but stress lined his whole body. For days Grace’s muscles were tense, his jaw set and tone weirdly pitchy. At first, Court figured it was presence that was the issue. Having someone watching your every move is never a pleasant feeling, especially when you are fully aware of it. Court quickly realized that wasn’t the case, though, as the file on Grace had mentioned him having guards before. Outside of that, the only change in Grace's life was the removal of his sweater. So Court returned it one night after cleaning it from his own scent. He did trade it for a t-shirt from Grace's floor, however.
At this point, Court had a small nest of his own, built up entirely of Grace's clothing. The mixture of their scents helped the alpha sleep easier at night. It was the first nest Court had built in decades, never having the time or space to allow himself the comfort of a nest. Most of his instincts have gone dormant. The stress of an abusive father, going straight into prison, and then becoming Sierra Six didn’t give his body enough rest to reset.
But it's different now. Grace has entered his life, even if he’s only an assignment. Someone to monitor until the Hail Mary is sent off and life returns to normal. Gradually, Court noticed himself changing. Creating a nest was one thing, something he could excuse as trying to settle into such a mundane job where nothing happens, but the possessiveness? That was new.
Court has noticed his proverbial hackles raise when Grace interacts with an alpha, mated or not. He does his best to keep his face neutral, but the pressure low in his throat when fighting back a growl is hard to ignore. If he weren't wearing some of the strongest scent blockers around, Court is sure that he’d drown out every alpha within a mile of him and Grace with his scent alone.
It’s alarming to say the least. The presence of his instincts has made Court consider quitting this assignment just so he can return to normal. At the same time, however, he finds an odd amount of satisfaction in it. Due to the general low stress of the job, his body finally gets the chance to rebalance. It’s exactly this reason that he hesitates to return to the hotel room where Grace sleeps. He doesn’t want to risk bursting the bubble that has been created.
It's nearly 4 am now. Court has been in this hallway for almost 1 ½ hours, and the weight of exhaustion is settling on his shoulders. He rests his forehead against the door, hand lying limp on the doorknob. Hotel doors are too good at keeping scents contained. With a heavy sigh, he unlocks the door and steps in, making sure to be as silent as possible.
The room is dark. Nothing seems to have changed, but the air is different. Petrichor and amber have filled the room, making Court stop in his tracks. It’s not uncommon for him to be around Grace when his blockers are off, the omega takes them off whenever he can. But this is different. It feels like Court is drowning in the man's scent. From what he can see, Grace is a lump on the bed, the duvet curled around him like a snowball.
The sight makes Court chuff. His omega looks so cozy in his ball, Court hates that he may have to disturb it to sleep. He slips his boots and outer layers off, leaving him in a tank top and pants before stepping towards the bed. As he rests a knee onto the mattress, Court considers taking his blockers off. He’s not sure Grace would appreciate a random scent in his room, but after 14 hours straight of wearing his blockers, his skin is starting to get irritated.
Just as he rips the blockers off, the snowball shifts. A hand shoots out from below the duvet, reaching towards Court's knee. He can barely hear a whine underneath the thick blanket as the hand gets closer, lightly smacking the mattress as it goes. It makes Court chuff again. It’s curious the way Grace is reacting to the alpha's presence in his sleep. Never before has he seemingly reached out to or even registered Court being in the same room, and yet here he is. Seeking out Court like a moth to a flame.
Grace's hand lands on Court's knee, patting twice more before actually grabbing it. Court barely blinks before his knee is being tugged on, pulling him into the bed. He goes willingly, finally settling his full weight on the bed. He lies down facing the Grace-ball, looking for any indication of an opening aside from where the arm sticks out. The hand settles once Court settles his knee close enough, just resting there.
Everything stills after that. Court waits to see if Grace is going to do anything else, but after a few minutes it's obvious the man is dead asleep. He didn’t even release any of the blanket to Court. So, the alpha allows himself to relax into the mattress. Within moments, he’s asleep.
It’s warm. The rumbling beneath his face and hand settles deep in his bones. He nuzzles deeper, feeling a purr of his own stir within his chest. He can smell cinnamon and a bit of cedar in the air, making everything warmer.
Ryland hasn’t felt this comfortable in years. His meager salary never allowed for him to find comforts like this pillow that's soft yet firm in all the right ways. With the rumbling, he’d almost think it was an alpha's chest. And with the air smelling so good….
Ryland's eyes shoot open, his body tensing.
Oh god.
Oh no.
The first thing he sees is a blur of white fabric and a tan shoulder. There’s a slight up and down motion as the body beneath him breathes. Ryland's hand is only a few inches from his own face and seemingly resting right on top of Six’s left pec. The rumbling—a purr, apparently—hasn't stopped, the persistence of it has Ryland's eyelids drooping slightly as he fights the urge to fall back asleep. It startles him to realize just how comfortable he is here, tucked under the arm of his bodyguard.
Six’s hand rests heavily on Ryland's waist, the warmth of it spreading along Ryland's side. He has to get up. He doesn’t know what time it is, but Ryland wants to rinse as much of the alpha's scent off before having to face Stratt again. Not that Six has a bad scent—it's quite pleasant, actually—but Stratt and Carl will tease him. Heck, they’d probably get the wrong idea about what happened!
So, Ryland slowly starts to peel away from Six’s side. He tries not to think about how the alpha's muscles feel under his hand as he drags it to his own chest. As gently as he can, Ryland props himself up on his elbow to dislodge himself from the hand on his hip. The moment he touches the hand to move it away, the purring stops and the grip tightens. Ryland freezes.
“Where‘re you going?" Six mumbles, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Come back here.”
In less than a second, any progress Ryland made is undone as Six curls even more around the omega. His arms are tight around Ryland's waist, pressing him more into Six’s chest. Though Six hums in contentment, chin settled on the other's head, his purr remains dormant.
Ryland strains to lean back and look at the alpha's face. His eyes are cracked open, watching Ryland with a steady glaze. The short strands of Six’s hair are tussled, and his eyebrows are lacking their usual furrow as they watch each other. Six looks content for once.
Eventually, Ryland has to speak, they can’t just sit and stare at each other all day, but the moment he opens his mouth, a knock rattles the door.
“Grace, get up. We have a meeting to get to.” Comes the muffled voice of Stratt.
Startled, Ryland sits up, “YUP! I’m up, I’ll be out in a moment!” A soft huff is audible through the door before footsteps go down the hall. She almost sounded amused. Without glancing back at Six, Ryland moves to stand. His movement is interrupted, however, by Six tugging him closer again with a shallow growl. The man is nuzzling Ryland's hip.
“You smell so good,” comes his barely audible mumble, “Don’t wanna move.”
Blush creeps along Ryland's cheeks as he stares at his bodyguard. He has so many questions, but now is not the time. “Six, please let me go. I can’t be late to this meeting.”
“..My name is Court.” The alpha had nuzzled so deep into Ryland's hip, he was almost inaudible.
“What?”
Six—no, Court—leans away from Ryland to make direct eye contact. “I don’t like it when you call me Six. Call me Court.”
"I—okay? Why are you—no, wait, we have to go." Ryland finally releases himself from Court's grip and stands facing his bodyguard. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Court watches him for a moment, his eyes darting around Ryland's tense form. After a moment, he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed in front of Ryland. “Sure, we can talk about it later, but let me do one thing first.” Without breaking eye contact, Court grabs the omega's wrists and brings them to either side of his neck. Tenderly, he rubs the scent glands together, marking them both.
Grace freezes in his grip. His eyes are wide, pupils drifting in and out of focus as Court scents him. As Court stops rubbing to allow the omega to step away, he sees Grace's throat tense as a single chirp escapes him, followed by a shallow purr.
Court knows this is a major overstep, it’s one that might make him lose this job, even if it’s already incredibly temporary. But when he caught the tiniest shift in Grace's scent, that minuscule hint of displeasure when Stratt knocked on the door, the urge to soothe the omega took over. Based on how Grace is currently reacting, however, Court is certain he made the right choice.
While they weren’t all that tense before, Grace's shoulders have dropped all their tension. His head hangs a little lower with his eyes sliding shut. As gently as he can, Court drops Grace's wrists so they rest on his shoulders and rests his palms on the omega's hips. Without any tugging or change in the alpha's grip, Grace shifts so he’s sitting on Court's lap, knees bracketing the alpha's thighs and head tucked into his shoulder. The omega's arms have tightened around Court's shoulders. Notably, he’s still purring, but now Court can feel it reverberate in his own chest.
As he wraps his arms around Grace's back, Court chuffs as he rubs his cheek against the omega's hair. “We do still have a meeting to get to, y’know.”
The purring stops as Grace uses his cheek and nose to rub against Court's scent gland. “Not my fault if we're late,” Grace grumbles. “I’m not the one who started this.”
Court just grunts in response, nuzzling deeper into Grace's short hair.
“…You can call me Ryland if you want.”
The words are spoken directly into Court's scent gland, making him shiver. Court grips the back of Grace's shirt tightly and thunks his forehead against Grace's shoulder. “Gotcha.”
Ryland snorts suddenly, his breath warm against Court's neck. “That’s all you’re gonna say? ‘Gotcha’?” Grace leans back in his arms, hands sliding up to Court's cheeks to make eye contact. “We cuddle, you offer me your real name, and then scent me, but all you can say is ‘gotcha’?”
Court nods dumbly, he’s feeling a little lightheaded as he stares into Ryland’s mirthful eyes. God, all he wants to do is kiss this man stupid and go back to bed. Preferably in Ryland’s nest, but that’s not available right now. Petrichor and cedar have filled the air, twining together to create a soothing atmosphere within the hotel room. Court watches as blue eyes flit down to his lips every few moments. Suddenly, their lips crash together, hurriedly finding a rhythm as Court groans into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.
Ryland’s lips are soft, if not a little uneven after biting them so much. The texture is addicting as Court pulls them down on the bed, deepening the kiss. Sporadically, a chirp or trill will escape from Ryland’s throat, heavily muffled by the lack of oxygen. Court’s tongue slides into Ryland’s mouth, tracing over the omega's teeth as the other whimpers.
Eventually, they’re forced to separate, panting loudly as they rest their foreheads together. Ryland knocks his nose against Courts with an airy chuckle. They lay there in silence for a minute, basking in each other's presence before Ryland plants his hands next to Court's head and leans back.
“Alright—okay. Enough of that.” He shakes his head twice. “We have a meeting to get to. Can’t really save the world if I don’t go.”
Court groans, settling his hands back on Ryland’s hips as the omega sits up fully on Court's upper thighs.
"C'mon, big guy, we really have to go.” Ryland pats Court’s chest. The alpha doesn’t fight when Ryland rises fully off the bed, he just lets his hands fall away and watches Ryland grab his glasses from the nightstand.
“Is this meeting one where you’re actually needed for more than a pretty face?” Court inquires as he sits back up. “Because if it isn’t, we could probably stay here. In bed.”
Once again Ryland snorts—a sound that is quickly becoming a favorite of Courts—and starts digging through his backpack. “While that sounds lovely, I do think I am needed this time. Stratt didn’t brief me, as usual, but I did catch a glimpse of some schematics for the beetles and ship on her screen.”
He pulls out a sweater from the bag, shaking it out before sliding his arms through the sleeves. His whole outfit is rumpled after sleeping in it, but Ryland doesn’t seem to care. Hell, his glasses are already askew as he’s pulling out his toiletry bag and turns to the bathroom.
Court stands as the bathroom door shuts. He grabs his discarded clothes from yesterday and stuffs them into his own backpack in exchange for a cleaner shirt. Digging through the front pocket, he finds his pack of scent patches. Wearing them won’t do much for the damp forest smell embedded into his clothes, but they will help keep him from nasally attacking anyone he encounters today.
In the bathroom, Ryland is shaking a bit as he brushes his teeth. He did not expect to ever be this close to a bodyguard of his. Even if she doesn’t say anything, Stratt is going to stare him down hard for exiting their room drenched in his bodyguard's scent. No, not drenched in Court's scent, but their combined scent. A surefire sign of being physically close, whether or not it was a sexual encounter. Not that he isn’t pleased with how this morning has gone. In fact, Ryland is incredibly happy about it! He hasn’t scented anyone in ages, not since joining the Petrova Task Force, heck, it's probably been since he last saw Colt before his accident a few years back. His brother has been kinda MIA since. So! It actually feels wonderful being scented! Not that he couldn’t have asked Ilyukhina or Carl to scent him, they definitely would scent him if he wanted.
Okay. Ryland is spiraling. He spits his toothpaste out and heaves a sigh. This isn’t something he can bother to think about right now, the world is ending, and he needs to focus. Pulling the pack out of the toiletry bag, Ryland peels open his scent blockers. The patches never feel the best, but they’re cheap and effective, so he places them gently. He takes a deep breath, savoring the mixture of their scents for a second longer before exiting the bathroom.
Court is leaning against the wall by the front door, dressed and ready to go. He’s glaring at the opposing wall as Ryland collects his items. Gray eyes dart to Ryland's face as the microbiologist walks up to Court. "Ready to go?”
A small smile slips onto Court's face, accompanied by a slight twinkle in his eyes. This is the most open Ryland has seen him. Ever. “Yeah, just one more thing though.”
Ryland jolts as Court leans forward and presses a kiss to the omega's forehead, a low hum escaping Court as he does so. Right as Ryland leans into the gesture, Courts has already straightened back up and is turning towards the door. The swift action of his bodyguard leaves Ryland planted to his spot, watching as Court checks the hallway before stepping back to hold the door open.
Apparently, Ryland takes too long to move because he feels a nudge at his lower back from Court. Shaking himself out of his frozen state, Ryland finally enters the hall to find Eva. Making his way towards the elevator, he hears the soft click of the hotel room door and Court's footsteps following, 3 feet behind.
For once, one of these meetings has been entertaining to Court. He’s not paying any attention to the actual conversation, his attention is purely on Ryland and his reactions. The microbiologist is incredibly animated as he discusses the project with whoever these people are. His glasses change positions every few seconds, never staying on his nose for very long. Hands are waving in the air as he rambles. Even when another person speaks, Ryland is jittery, tugging at his sleeves or wiping his lenses.
About halfway through the meeting, Court realizes Stratt hasn’t offered much input. She let Ryland take the reins, presumably due to her lacking expertise on the subject matter, but it’s still interesting to witness her sit back. Once Court starts paying attention to her, he realizes she has just been staring at Ryland with the occasional glance to himself. Court isn’t sure if the look she’s been giving them is something to worry about or not. Her face is almost always deadpan, only occasionally giving way to frustration or impatience. But right now there seems to be the smallest hint of mirth.
At the end of the meeting, she takes over the conversation once more to finalize whatever details were agreed upon. While everyone begins to pack up and filter out of the room, Court catches her leaning into Ryland's ear and whispering something. Whatever she says makes Ryland turn bright red and sputter nonsense as she calmly collects her belongings. He’s rushing to gather his things and walk with her, falling silent as they slide out of the room, Carl and Court following close behind.
Within another hour, they’re all back on a plane headed back to base, sitting in the same configuration as before. This time, however, Court can hear the soft whispering of Ryland and Stratt. Making out the words is too much effort, but their tones are notable. Ryland is a bit frantic, trying to defend something with long stretches of rambles while Stratt’s voice is even and her sentences clipped.
There’s a shift in Ryland's pitch that has Court glancing back, but all he gets is eye contact and a shrug from Carl. Rolling his eyes, Court turns back around and settles into his seat, planes always make him a bit drowsy, so he falls asleep easily.
“I’m telling you, we did not sleep together!” Ryland whisper-shouts for the hundredth time. “All we did was share a bed. Nothing happened.”
Eva’s face hasn’t shifted at all. “Even so, you showed up to that meeting reeking of each other. I don’t care what happened, it’s not my business. However, it would have been nice of you to shower beforehand.”
“I didn’t have time to. I woke up to your knocking!”
There’s a small snort from Carl, which makes Ryland glare at him as Eva shrugs. “You’re usually up and ready by then. Forgive me for thinking you would be aware of your surroundings at 8 in the morning.” Ryland can see her thought process as she assesses this morning. “I guess you were comfortable for once, since you slept in so much.”
Ryland recoils. He doesn’t even attempt a response as he stares at Eva. There’s laughter in her eyes as she turns back to her iPad. Ryland looks to Carl for any kind of support, but the beta’s shoulders are shaking as he works through a crossword puzzle. The omega slumps into his seat in defeat. He knew this was how Eva would react, but he’s still frustrated about it. She could’ve at least waited until they were back at her office to say something. A space where Court and Carl didn’t need to enter.
Back at base, the four split off into their respective pairs: Stratt and Carl off to check in with staff, while Ryland and Court head to the lab. Their walk is silent. Court can see Ryland wringing his hands as they walk, but he doesn’t speak.
By the time they reach the lab and assume their usual positions, Ryland has settled back down. He’s back in his element, cracking his knuckles as he starts to test whatever theory he was concocting. Court idly monitors the rest of the room. There seems to be fewer scientists than usual, but they’re likely in a different lab or out for a meal. Court settles into being invisible for the next few hours.
Almost 4 hours later, Ryland is shaking off his lab coat and speeding to the door. Court is up in an instant, trailing behind as Ryland walks home. Yet again, there’s silence between them. Once they breach the entryway of Ryland’s home, the omega is ripping his scent blockers off and rubbing the skin there. Fresh petrichor and amber fills the room. Court makes sure the door is locked as Ryland flops onto the couch. Unsure of what to do, Court moves to sit at the dining table, allowing Ryland some space.
“Take your blockers off. Please.” It’s the first thing Ryland has said to Court in hours, and he is quick to oblige, tugging his own itchy patches off. Cedar and cinnamon seep into the space, gently combining with Ryland's scent. A deep sigh escapes Ryland's chest; he visibly melts into the couch. Court patiently waits for the next request—or command—pleased to see Ryland relaxing from his scent alone.
Eventually, Ryland rises from the couch and steps over to Court, standing between the alpha’s spread knees. He cups Court's jaw with both hands, eyes darting between gray eyes and soft lips. Ryland leans closer, making their noses brush together, and one of his hands slides into Court's hair. They stare into each other's eyes for a moment—Ryland absentmindedly scratching at Court's scalp—before their lips connect.
Electricity sparks from the contact, activating every nerve in Court's body as he groans into the kiss. His hands land on Ryland's hips as the omega presses forward, making Court's head tilt back. Their lips separate as Ryland ducks down to Court's exposed throat. A gentle tug tilts Court's head even further back as Ryland nibbles and licks across his skin, spare hand gliding down to start undoing the buttons of Court's shirt. All Court can seem to do is tighten his grip on Ryland’s hips as he lets the omega explore.
Under the sounds of Ryland's kisses, a steady purr pours out of the omega's throat. His hand spreads under the partially open shirt on Court's chest, resting on his left pec and heartbeat. He can feel the way Court is starting to pant, the slightly frantic rise and fall of his chest.
Slowly, Ryland leans back up to look Court in the eyes. His lips are shiny with spit—spit that is now making Court shiver as it cools along his neck. Without words, Ryland beckons Court to follow him to the room. Ryland is halfway through the door before Court shoots out of his chair, almost toppling it over.
He’s greeted with the sight of Ryland reclined in his nest, legs flopped open as he stares at Court. He has a dopey grin that matches the angle of his skewed glasses. Court stutters to a stop.
Fuck. This is everything Courts been dreaming about. He stalks closer, eyes never leaving Ryland, who is watching in kind. Before breaching the wall of the nest, Court shrugs off his jacket and shoes, adding them to the mess on the floor.
A hand grasps the loose fabric of his shirt and tugs. Suddenly, Court is on top of Ryland, his face is pressed between Rylands pecs and he can feel the low purr beneath him. Within moments, his limbs go limp with the weight of sandbags. As a hand deliciously scratches his scalp, Court realizes he has found his heaven. Right here, in this nest, settled in Ryland Graces arms.