Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Jason doesn’t go to school the day after Chrissy breaks out, and his parents don’t expect him to. His father calls the school before he goes to the office, and his mother dabs fresh iodine on the cuts on his face, and makes banana pancakes with blueberries even though Jason is, for once, really not hungry. At least his little brothers can benefit while he forces himself to eat, because he needs the energy. There’s no question about the game tonight, of course he’s going to that, but he just cannot deal with all the staring today.

Patrick knows to collect his homework, and everyone knows that he just can’t take listening to the whispers and rumors all day, about Chrissy breaking out. Holy crow, it’s so weird to hear and think that term about his girlfriend. It’s his turn to clear the table, but Mark takes it without question, letting Jason go upstairs to his room to think. He’s really not sure if it’s a favor.

In a house this big, having his own room is a premium that Jason fully appreciates, even if it is just a tiny little garret. He’s tucked up in the attic, where he can shut the door behind him and flop on the bed to stare up at the ceiling in peace. His girlfriend had an Alpha breakout yesterday. He wishes he could think about something else for five minutes, but there’s no way. Breaking out means an Alpha going crazy from hormones and really acting out in some big way, usually violent or sexual, and the thing is that Chrissy has always been so mild.

Some of the other guys who aren’t total hypocrites about waiting for marriage have had a lot of trouble with wild girls, but not Jason. Pretty much only Betas do that anymore, anyway, even the religious ones, but Ronny Smith had had to drop Matilda Swinson because her entire good-girl thing really had just been an act.

It’s not like Jason doesn’t have… urges, but it’s important to have principles, too. Chrissy had always been happy to stop at second base (for both of them, and it’s so weird to shiver at the memory of her little hands on his chest when he’s so miserable and she hates him now) and that had been fine, Jason rock hard in the cloud of her perfume but disciplined enough not to push for more. Fuck, that perfume probably had Alpha pheromones in it, no matter what kind of medications people take, that stuff is almost impossible to cover, especially in such an intimate moment and oh no, does this mean Jason’s bent?

Alphas and Omegas can’t help their nature even if it is just a little more sinful than everyone else’s, maybe, but being bent is definitely a sin. At least all that bastard Eddie Munson has ever done is annoy him and make him sneeze. He was such a prick about it when Coach sent Jason to ask him to join the team, back in sophomore year… pheromones are probably all that Chrissy sees in him.

Oh no, Jason must be bent, if he’s thinking about whether or not he’d take her back if she came to her senses and dropped Munson. She’s an Alpha, she told him straight out that it doesn’t matter how much she acts like a Beta, and that she’s not planning on getting anything cut off. And he knows now that that’s fucked up to say. She’s just now found a whole new part of herself, shoved aside, hidden, something her own mother lied to her about for her entire life… no. If she doesn’t feel horror and disgust, but relief that everything finally makes sense? Who the fuck is Jason to say otherwise? How dare he even suggest taking that from her? He’s such a piece of shit.

And he wants to be mad at Chrissy, but it’s not her fault. He’s really pissed at her stupid fucking parents. What the fuck. Alpha females are kind of weird, sure, but there’s a couple on the cheerleading squad with Chrissy! A female Alpha was Valedictorian last year, it’s seriously not a big deal. Not nearly as weird as being a male Omega, sent off to a boarding school to make sure none of the normal boys got his nasty paws on you. Except for guys like Munson… Ugh, this whole thing would be better if he wasn’t so creepy. Pulling vulnerable freshmen deeper into antisocial activities. ‘Lost little sheepies,’ indeed. More than anything, more than he’s mad at anyone, more than he’s humiliated, even more than he’s lonely and depressed, he really, really just wants Chrissy to be safe. That's all that's worth praying for at this point.

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It’s pretty fucked up that Jason has to feel this bad when otherwise things are going well for him. They win the game, thanks to a near-miraculous shot from Sinclair, and it turns out that he has a solo in the church’s choir concert after all. He would have been pretty stoked, a week ago, but now all he can think about is that he met Chrissy at church. At least she’s not here today. He can just sit here on this hard pew and act like he’s happy about getting to sing ‘The Old Rugged Cross.’ He should be, he really likes that piece, but all he can think about is that he’s probably bent.

Worse than anything is the sweet old married ladies who descend on him and tell him they’re praying for him, that it says nothing about him that Laura Cunningham is such a poor, misguided soul. A lot of them have single Beta daughters or granddaughters, and it’s pretty appalling that they’re dropping such broad hints so soon. Chrissy broke out on Friday, for goodness’s sake, and here they are on Sunday morning! Can’t even let a man mourn, to say nothing of the complete… what do they call it these days? A sexuality crisis, is that what he’s having? He wishes he didn’t have to have it in his church suit, and that it wasn’t so warm out today.

Over the next three weeks, it feels like all he can think about is Chrissy, even while he does everything he can to dodge her. She’s joined at the hip with Munson, of course, and their combined smell is just so weird. It’s not actually bad, it’s even kind of nice, but it’s so sneezy and irritating, it drives Jason crazy. What drives him even crazier is how great Chrissy looks. She was always a little too thin, picking at her food. Jason just figured she was one of those nervous girls, and when he realized her mother had her on a diet, well, there is a weight limit to being a flier. Even if there are men on the team, and there are none at Hawkins, a girl can only be so heavy before no one can toss her up in the air anymore, and it’s only about twenty pounds after that when she shouldn’t be at the top of a pyramid, either.

But now it’s obvious, how deprived she was. In less than a month she’s visibly curvier, arms thicker with muscle, not fat. She was already strong, cheerleaders always are, but now she looks like she could knock a guy down. Her tits are bigger, too, and Jason can’t help but notice that, and the way her hair gleams now. She smells different, too, of course. It’s… it’s like that perfume, but almost gamey? It’s like it should be bad but it isn’t? It’s weird, and it makes him want to sniff around after her like some kind of pathetic heartbroken sexual harasser, just to figure it out.

Everyone’s scents are stronger, these days. It’s so strange. It’s not just trying to adjust to how much Chrissy has changed, it’s any human being Jason comes across. School is a weird whirl of smells these days, and it tells him things he never knew, like that the Byers kid who went missing is an Omega. It’s another thing that makes Jason feel like a creep, because the scent is really nice, sort of like cinnamon and vanilla, and it makes him want to get closer to the boy, to smell more of it, and sweet Lord and savior Jesus Christ help him, the kid is only fourteen.

Somehow Jason survives until graduation. It even looks like he might live through the ceremony. Somehow.. Why do his and Chrissy’s last names both have to begin with the same letter? She’s only a few seats down, and she looks incredible, even in the stupid robe in the sticky heat, she is a vision. It’s just as well Jason gets saved every summer, because there’s no way to look at her and not sin in his heart, with her hair like fire, her lips more kissable than ever, and those perfect tits. But it’s more than that. She’s so fucking happy. Her parents are nowhere in sight, but her grandparents are in the audience, with assorted relatives, mostly from her dad’s side. A stone-faced old roughneck is out there next to them, in what is a suit clearly unnatural to him and only worn for weddings and funerals, and Chrissy waves to the guy, eyes so bright, back so straight. Jason used to wish she could stand and shine like that anywhere outside of a cheer routine, and to see it now, when she’s with Eddie Munson, of all fucking people...

And it’s honestly beyond weird, but Munson… Munson actually looks like an Omega for once, and it’s… pretty? What the hell? That straggly hair combed out down his back and shining in the sun, coffee brown and auburn highlights gleaming, and some of the soft, subtle makeup male Omegas wear for special occasions around his eyes. Betas aren’t supposed to notice this shit, and if they do, it’s supposed to be off-putting. Jason sends up a silent prayer for forgiveness and to pretty please not actually lose his mind, and then watches in real surprise as Eddie takes his diploma without flipping anyone off. The principle does look very tense around the corners of his mouth as Munson goes back to his seat, though, so the freak probably pulled something. He passes Jason like he doesn’t even see him, his eyes sparkling as he smiles down at Chrissy, who smiles back, with a knowing look that makes Jason want to die.

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Every morning, Jason takes a little white pill that was prescribed by his pediatrician when he was eleven. His parents told him he had a hormonal imbalance and that he would need to take his medication to be able to participate in sports, and at the time, that had been good enough for him. Since learning what Chrissy’s parents had done to her, he eyes the little white tablet with deep suspicion.

It doesn’t help that he’s starting to feel really weird. Dizzy, and sick in the evenings, like he’s backwards-pregnant. Jason is seventeen until August. He may not be enough of a grownup to make a doctor’s appointment for himself yet, but when he tells Mom he feels under the weather, she makes the call. She worries about him more than Dad, and neither of them want him to miss the Youth Retreat. He has gone every year since he got too old for Bible Camp, it would be nice to have something stay the same now that the girl he thought he was going to marry is taking a gap year to cuddle up to Eddie Munson.

It’s not like Jason is stupid, he has tried to look up the long name on the side of the bottle, but nothing he has found actually makes any sense. There’s some stuff about ‘reduction of instinctual behaviors’ and ‘Beta sex role stability,’ but it might as well be Greek as far as Jason is concerned. He makes Dad drop him off, on the grounds that having his parents hovering around makes him feel like a little kid. Dad ruffles his hair and calls him ‘chief,’ like Jason is still seven years old, but agrees. He has errands to run anyway. Jason goes into the clinic with sweaty palms, politely greets the receptionists who have been working there since before his well-baby checks. The nurse who takes his blood pressure and everything is newer, but she has been here at least since he was ten years old.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long for the doctor. Dr. Ross is a grey-haired old man with deep laugh lines around his eyes, but he looks sad when Jason tells him how he feels. He asks a few questions, and then sighs. “Jason, you’re close enough to managing your own affairs that I’m going to tell you: I advised your parents to take you off of that drug four years ago.”

“What?” Jason stares at him, but now it does make more sense that Mom would grumble about the expense of the prescription when their insurance through Dad’s job is so good.

“Some people can stay on it for life, with dosage adjustments, that’s part of what you’re feeling now, but your hormones were never precisely out of balance.” He sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. “It was closer to precocious puberty. People say there are two kinds of Betas in the world, and while this is a gross oversimplification, it’s easy to see where they get it.”

“...You, you mean like, like dogs?” It’s not a nice term, but it’s what Jason has heard the most often.

Dr. Ross sighs. “There are more polite ways to describe Betas who are deeply instinctual and highly responsive to scent, but yes. Most of the Beta population is what the medical community refers to as ‘baseline,’ with about twenty percent being ‘responsive,’ and ten being ‘unresponsive,’ which is its own problem. You, Jason, are highly responsive. At the age of eleven, it was a little too much to deal with. The medication was supposed to let your body mature enough to handle your own responses. Kids like you were can end up with cold sweats, dizzy spells, hallucinations, sometimes their growth plates close too early… but by now, you’ve done more than catch up. If anything, the drug is currently stressing your body, hence the nausea and dizziness.”

So Jason needs to come off of this stuff. He’ll need to find some quiet time to acclimate to being so much more sensitive to smell, and Dr. Ross has some suggested over the counter products to help. He also gives Jason some pamphlets, and a nice little pep talk about not being disgusting, animalistic, or sinful. Jason doesn’t really believe him, but it’s still nice that he’s trying to make Jason feel better. He sits in the waiting room, thinking about when best to get to the drug store without his parents noticing. He’s going to need ScentStop gel or a similar product. Something like Vick’s VapoRub will work, but the scent-blocking gels are formulated not to burn. This is his life now, he’s a dog Beta. It should take only about three days for this to clear his system, that’s why his parents always nag so much about taking it. In three days, Jason will be able to know for sure if he’s bent or not. Right now he could just be confused, olfactory system totally haywire, but by the end of the week, he’ll be out of excuses.

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Jason is expecting his parents to put up more of a fuss. He knows that being able to hold their heads up in town matters to them, and that as their firstborn son his actions reflect on them and on their values. That gives them extra cause to worry about him embarrassing the whole family by being too instinctual, or ‘hounding,’ the term that matches ‘dog’ and that good, church-going people don’t say. He literally worries himself sick over it, throwing up until his mother is sure they’re going to have to take him to the emergency room.

Hunched over the toilet and willing himself to just stop, Jason spits to clear his mouth, and croaks, “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?” and she always tries to be so soft and soothing, even when she’s desperately worried about them, like when Luke fell out of his crib and cut his face and the bleeding just wouldn’t stop. They did end up in the ER that time.

“I have something to tell you,” Jason says, and sits back. It’s clean, the toilet water smell is starting to make him feel like that will make him throw up again when he has it under control, for now. Mom gives him a wad of toilet paper, and he’s grateful, scrubbing his mouth. “I—I know I’m a dog Beta, Dr. Ross told me.”

“Don’t use that term,” Mom says, gentle but firm.

“Turns out the medication really is bad for me, Mom. I gotta go off.” He starts to cry, and isn’t that just stupid? He rubs at his eyes, trying to stop. “I’m really sorry, and I’ll do everything I can not to embarrass the family…”

“Baby, no,” Mom says, and sits down next to him on the bathroom floor and hugs him, even though he smells like puke. “We tried to cheat God’s design for you because we were scared, but you’re our son, and it’s your health that matters more than anything else.”

“R-really?”

“Really, sweetheart,” she says, and kisses the top of his head.

“Will you tell Dad for me?” Jason whimpers, clinging to the soft fabric of her blouse and feeling like a total baby.

“I will,” she says softly, rocking him like he really is a baby, “and he won’t be mad.”

Jason has no idea what she says to Dad, but he isn’t mad. He comes to Jason’s room and actually apologizes for the medication thing. Jason can understand why they did it, it’s not like Chrissy’s parents, trying to actually cover up her whole dynamic. They were just trying to manage him, like people who need lithium or whatever. Dad gives Jason the first hug he has given him since Jason was about eight, and they hold on for a long time.

The acclimation process is a preview of the Hell Jason is probably going to. Everything smells so strong that he can’t really eat anything but white bread and ginger ale cut with club soda, ScentStop does too burn if you have to use this fucking much of it, and it’s really hard to get a quiet room when you have little brothers. It’s weird, how much noise bothers him when the problem is supposed to be about scent. Really, all his senses seem tuned up, and just wants to stay curled up in bed, in a nest of blankets. He’s heard about Omegas doing this kind of thing, but doesn’t everybody do this when they feel bad? And Lord, does Jason feel bad. He groans, and digs under his mattress for the pamphlets Dr. Ross gave him. It’s not like he hasn’t read them eight million times apiece, with their bright, glossy bullet points full of what his pastor would call ‘rankest, vilest sin.’

Still, the guide to what different scents mean is useful. And it had been kinda cool, to be able to just smell that Billy was upset when he got home, and that it was probably a feeling of rejection, which is acrid like fear, but with the soft, ashy notes of shame, too. There are some older kids at the park that he keeps trying to be friends with, and nobody can make him see that if you have to jump through a bunch of hoops to be somebody’s friend, it’s not worth it. He worries about the kid a lot. The cool part about being able to smell him had been that Jason had also been able to fix some chocolate milk (the smells so strong he had felt like heaving, but anything for his brothers) and talk to him about it. And it’s nice to be able to actually smell how much Mom cares for him on everything she brings him, clinging like perfume to white bread and water and a fresh pack of playing cards for solitaire, after his old one turns out to be missing two sixes.

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Along with the general advice on the pamphlets Dr. Ross gave him, there’s one that has a series of 1-800 numbers to call if, as an instinctual Beta, you find yourself attracted to other dynamic scents. Jason keeps pulling it out, reading over it, and then cramming it back under the mattress, wondering what this country is coming to. He tells himself over and over that he won’t have to call them. He’ll go out in the world, and Beta girls will smell enticing and everyone else will just be normal and Jason will just be normal and everything will be fine.

It’s only three days to clear, but Jason is completely stir-crazy by the end of it. He still hasn’t decided about the youth retreat. He’s starting to think he won’t be up to such close quarters by the time it starts, but, well, he kind of has to leave the house to get any kind of idea. Tomorrow morning is Sunday, so church is going to be the first step. Not a bad start, at least it’s a familiar crowd. Mom has started buying the special unscented detergent for people with allergies, and Jason is profoundly grateful as he puts on his freshly-cleaned and pressed church clothes. Just the little bit of freesia Mom puts in the ironing water is kind of a lot.

The whole Carver family files into the church like nothing is any different, and it’s such a whirl of scents that it’s just too much, nothing and no one really stands out. Jason is okay. He’s going to get through the sermon, they’re going to pick Luke up from Sunday school, and it’s going to be fine. And then a wonderful, fiery-hot, bittersweet scent full of rich darkness wafts over Jason, and it’s all he can do not to pant like a dog. He doesn’t have to look around, he knows it’s Alpha, he knows it’s Chrissy, he knows he’s screwed. He is so bent.

It’s even worse afterward. Everyone standing and mingling, he can catch more individual scents, and way too many people smell delicious. Alphas, Betas, and Omegas of both sexes. It’s not a fluke, it’s not just that he has known Chrissy for so long and still loves her so much. Jason is bent and he’s going to hell and it feels like the walls are closing in on him. He slips outside to pace around the cemetery and try to just breathe. Footsteps behind him make him jump, and then there’s a wave of Chrissy’s scent, and he’s not exactly relaxed now, but he’s less tense. The only time Chrissy ever hurt him, she was basically out of her mind.

“Hey, Jace?” And she hasn’t called him that in forever. It makes his heart hurt, but he’s glad, too, that she hasn’t just forgotten everything.

“Yeah?” he says, more softly than he means to, as he stops and turns to face her. She’s beautiful, wearing soft blue that brings out her eyes, with all the little white accessories, gloves, pumps, shawl, all of it.

“You just look like you don’t feel well,” she says. “I… I’ve been worried about you.”

“Wait, really?”

“I broke up with you, Jace, I don’t hate you.”

And it’s probably because it’s Chrissy, and he’s known her since they were six years old and in Sunday school together, and he’s so scared and tired and she smells so good that he tells her all about it. About how he’s afraid of making life harder for his brothers and of going to Hell, of how much he misses her, about how he’s a dog Beta and doesn’t know how to be one.

It’s this last point that makes Chrissy take Jason into her arms, and he shouldn’t let her, he should be stronger than that, but he just whines softly, resting his head on hers and clinging to her. Her scent is everywhere, and it’s so delicious and so comforting and he just wants to bathe in it, to roll around in it until it covers every inch of his skin.

“Jace, Jace, I have no idea how to be an Alpha, either. It’s okay, you’ll figure it out.” Her voice is so sweet and so soothing and Heaven help him, she was never this exquisite as a Beta.

Oh no. Oh no, Jason is bent. Jason is so bent, every Alpha note in her scent that the pamphlets point out, the bitterness and spice and darkness, all of those smell so good, hold her surface sweetness down and make her so rich and unforgettable and Jason can’t be straight, not if he’s reacting like this to Alpha pheromones. Even in the grip of complete panic, he feels like he’s about to get hard in the middle of the churchyard, on a Sunday, no less(!) and he needs to get out of here. He has to run. He pulls away from Chrissy, gets a good start and vaults over the fence. The sidewalk is pretty clear, so Jason can just bolt along it at basketball captain speed.

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Jason never had any idea where he was going, but it’s shaping up to be a really hot day, and no one is meant to run in a full suit and tie. He stops under a tree, gasping in huge lungfuls of air that just smell like grass and sun and hot asphalt, thank you Jesus, and yanks his tie off, cramming it into his pocket. He shrugs out of his jacket, and then, though he doesn’t really like to, pulls off his shirt. He has an undershirt on, and the sweat stains on it aren’t as huge or noticeable. He ties the wrecked button down around his waist (sorry, Mom) and slings the jacket over one shoulder. There. That’s a lot less sticky and hot, he almost feels normal again. Barring the near-lethal embarrassment from bolting like that. He’s not even going to think of the reason he ran, and how absolutely perfect his Alpha ex-girlfriend smells.

Ugh, he still feels so hot and sweaty and miserable! He looks around and blinks in surprise because he ran all the way to the 7-11, but on the other hand, he can hopefully get a cold drink. He sends up a sincere and utterly genuine prayer that the Slurpee machine is working, and staggers across the parking lot. Maybe if God really, really willing to overlook Jason’s sins out of Divine mercy, it won’t be crowded. It is before noon on a Sunday, the odds are good. He bangs the door open a lot harder than he means to, and tries not to moan audibly at the touch of the air-conditioning. At first it looks perfect, like there’s no one in here but a started Beta clerk. Jason does his best to flash the poor man an apologetic smile, and then blunders his way over to the Slurpee machine and into a cloud of the most wonderful scent.

Jason has always liked caramel made with salted butter. The little bit of salt just brings out the sweetness, and the richness of the brown sugar. People try to make it with white, but that never works. This scent is like that, brown and homey but somehow opulent at the same time, with a mysterious, shimmering edge of smoke and leather. It makes him feel like his teeth itch, like he’s a werewolf and needs to bite. A moment ago, Eddie Munson was leaning against the side of the machine. Now he’s standing in that classic startled Omega way, poised for flight with his wide eyes and flowing hair bathed in the golden sunlight that comes pouring in through the glass doors.

He could be a Renaissance painting except for the modern clothing (mostly normal today, except for the denim vest, Chrissy must be a good influence) and the double-extra-large blue raspberry Slurpee. His lips are blue, and Jason has a sudden and powerful vision of himself burying his hands in those cascading curls and licking that artificial blue flavor off of Munson’s mouth while that salted-sweet scent coils around them like fog.

“Forgive me, Lord,” Jason croaks, and bangs his head into the front of the machine. It’s loud, but doesn’t hurt much. He rears back to do it again, and then Munson is there, grabbing him with one arm around his waist, the other hand palming his forehead like a basketball.

“Stop it, you crazy fuck!” he yells, and his scent is acrid with fear and sour with anger now, and that helps Jason calm down a little. Enough to yank himself away, snapping, “Quit it, quit it, I’m not gonna do anything,” until Munson lets him go without a fight.

“Do I need to call the cops?” the clerk is asking them now, and Jason groans. When did this become his life?

“No, sir,” he says. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“He’s going through it right now, man,” Eddie says. “It’s hotter than the devil’s taint out there, his girlfriend broke up with him three weeks ago, and his dynamic hormones are adjusting.”

The clerk sighs, but nods, and allows Eddie to grab another enormous cup. “Red or blue, Carver? Or are you one of those sick fucks who likes the Coke one?”

“Blue is the best,” Jason hears himself saying, as he crouches to pick his suit jacket up off the no doubt sticky floor.

“You are a man of taste and discernment in the things that really matter,” Eddie says, filling the cup, “I’ve noticed that.”

“If that’s about Chrissy, I’ll… ugh, I don’t know what.” You don’t hit a male Omega unless he hits you first, and you don’t hit a female one at all. Those are the rules, engraved on the same set of tablets as the Ten Commandments as far as Jason is concerned.

“She’s been worried about you lately, and I guess I get it now,” Eddie says. “Here.” He passes him the neon blue drink, and Jason is so thirsty and the heat is so miserable, that he just starts sucking it down, and submits himself to the ultimate indignity of letting Eddie Munson buy him a Slurpee.

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The clerk wants them both out of here, of course, but at least the building provides some shade. Eddie gently shepherds Jason out to sit in it, side by side on the curb out front, and they sip their artificial blue in silence. It really sucks that Eddie has to be so goddamn nice. There’s even a sweet, powdery quality to his scent now that Jason realizes is actually Omega soothing factor. The bastard is trying use pheromones to calm him down, and it’s actually sort of working, even as it’s starting to really sink in how badly he has fucked up.

Jason wants to cry, which just makes it all worse. This is the exact kind of behavior he was worried about. His first time out in public since clearing his system, and he goes running off like an untrained dog. From church, so there’s no way for the entire congregation not to find out, on top of the horrible example for his brothers and the general shame and humiliation and lameness.

“Jesus,” Munson finally says, casually taking the Lord’s name in vain, as always, “could you stop? I meant what I told the clerk, dude, you are going through it. It’s your Constitutional right to be a mess right now.”

“I really need you to stop being so fucking nice to me,” Jason growls, and vengefully sucks down more of his Slurpee.

Eddie chuckles, and just smells even more soothing, some of the muscles in Jason’s neck and shoulders loosening a little. “Nope, no can do. I’m Chaotic Good, I do what I want.”

“Is that from your stupid heathen game?”

“Good eye, Carver! It is, there’s a whole alignment system. I used to wonder about you, but I’m starting to think you’re Good, and all your prickishness comes from being Lawful.”

“Shouldn’t a person be lawful?”

“Depends on the law, my man,” Eddie says, and Jason rolls his eyes.

“This is why you had to do senior year three times.”

“That and Mr. Kennedy having it out for me because I didn’t want to let the fucker smell my hair all the time.”

“Wait, what?” Jason looks over at Eddie, because that’s not okay. Eddie just shrugs, like he’s used to it, and gives Jason an unhappy smile.

“Not to be too much with the ego, Carver, but people really like the Eau de Munson. I’ve had creepers like Kennedy sniffing after me since I was about eleven.”

“But that’s--!” Jason jumps to his feet. “Munson, you can’t just not do anything, that’s not right!”

“It’s not like I didn’t complain,” Eddie says, slowly standing, to put them on a level aagain, “just nobody gave a shit except my uncle,” Eddie says, looking at Jason like he has suddenly grown a second head.

“That’s fucked up,” Jason grumbles, “teachers shouldn’t be doing that shit.” Eddie stares at him like he has now grown a third head, and then gets the softest look on his face, his scent suddenly so warm and caressing that Jason feels lightheaded. “Wh-what’s that for, Munson?” Eddie blushes, soft ash tamping down the scent. “Sorry, s-sorry, I just… I used to sit out at that picnic table sometimes in prodrome and worry about the wrong kind of Alpha or Beta coming out there, and saying that I asked for whatever trouble they gave me. And I used to think one of them might be you, but now…”

“Fuck you, Munson, I would never,” Jason growls. “You don’t bother a girl or an Omega. You fucking take no for an answer.” Jason is honestly stung, all the time he has spent curating the basketball team’s culture and making sure house parties are safe and everything.

“I’m glad I bought you a Slurpee, man, and I apologize for thinking I had to worry about you like Hargrove.”

“Hargrove is a fucking animal, Munson, and if he ever gives you any trouble, I’ll--” he stops, wondering what the smell blooming around him is. Betas are supposed to carry more ‘green’ notes than other dynamics, scent tones that remind people of vegetation. This smells kind of fiery, but homey, like leaves burning in the fall.

Munson give him the oddest, sweetest smile. “Aw, Carver. You do care.”

“Stop making fun of me!” Jason snaps, and Munson’s expression turns sad.

“I wasn’t. It’s sweet that you smell like that, all protective Beta. You’re a good guy, and I see why Chrissy cares about you.”

Jason isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he just mumbles, “Thank you,” and sits back down on the curb, drinking his Slurpee.

Because Chrissy saw which way he ran, and there isn’t really anything public in this direction until the 7-11, it isn’t really very long until Jason’s family comes pulling up in the minivan, his mom leaping out almost before Dad stops the car, all three of his little brothers staring out the back windows at him and Eddie Munson, sitting here like friends. Shit.

“Jason, are you all right?” Mom squawks, running over in her beige church pumps and hugging him tightly. He hugs back, feeling like crying again because he can smell her love and her worry.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry, I just… I just freaked out.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby, we knew it might be too much. And who’s your friend?” She can probably guess that it’s Eddie Munson, and she’s probably at least half sure he sacrifices chickens to a moon god, but Mom has impeccable manners.

“Mom, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is my mother, Mrs. Janice Carver.”

Mom offers Eddie her hand, and he tugs the bandana out of his back pocket and carefully wipes the Slurpee stickiness on it, before taking Mom’s hand and doing that pretty little old-fashioned Omega bow that Jason didn’t think anyone did outside of a debutante ball. “At your service,” he says, and it sounds courtly and sincere.

Mom gives him one of her beaming smiles. “Thank you for waiting with Jason. It’s a difficult time for him right now.”

“I know from difficult, ma’am,” Eddie says, and when he smiles back at her, he’s so pretty Jason can’t look at him.

Chapter Text

Watching Eddie charm his Mom is bad enough without realizing that Eddie is one of the loveliest things Jason has ever seen. Something about being with Chrissy had made the eye makeup more of a fixture, these days, and it’s driving Jason insane. Mom mentions it in the car, that the boy has natural taste, and his delicate touch of burgundy eye shadow and black liner is much more appealing than a person might expect.

Everything about Eddie is more appealing than Jason might expect, and he spends the day in a daze. He knows one thing, though. He’s definitely not going on the Youth Retreat. He won’t have the control, it’s coming up too soon. And he doesn’t deserve to get saved. He will have to do the concert, though. That’s next Sunday evening, and as a soloist it’s too late to pull out now. He’ll just have to wear some ScentStop and try not to panic. And apologize to God for what he’s bringing into His house. Fuck.

There’s lunch and he has chores, but where he would usually shoot some hoops with his brothers after that was done, he just locks himself into his room to pray. And then get distracted thinking about Eddie, Chrissy, or the two of them together, touch himself, burst into tears, and then pray some more. It’s exhausting and miserable and he has never felt further from God. He forces himself to come out for dinner, and tells his mother he took a nap, and that’s why his eyes are puffy and red. Looking around the table, he’s so glad his family is all normal Betas, that they can’t smell how wild and sinful and strange he feels. He excuses himself quickly after that.

He wants to go for a walk in the woods, but there is no way at least one of his brothers wouldn’t want to tag along, so he’s just back in his room again, kneeling by the bed, head resting on his clasped hands as he whisper, “Jesus, I believe you love me. Please forgive me for my sins. Help me to be a better person. Amen,” over and over and over.

It doesn’t help that Jason hasn’t touched either of them That Way, he has sinned in his heart. He can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss Eddie, he can’t stop feeling the strength in Chrissy’s arms when she had hugged him, and how much more plush her breasts already are. Jason can’t help starting a steady rocking motion with the repetitive words, and he knows better, he knows better, but soon he’s hard again and he feels like he’s about to explode, so ashamed and afraid and hungry, too. He yanks at his own hair to try and distract himself with pain, but it doesn’t work at all. The feeling zaps through his body like lightning, going straight to his cock and leaving him gasping. Why the hell is that happening? He sits there, wide-eyed and trying to get his breath back. Running a hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart, his fingertips glance over one nipple, and he’s amazed at how hard it is. God help him, he’s a complete deviant.

Jason passes a very, very difficult night, and wakes up very late the next morning. Usually he has a summer job. Every other year since he turned fourteen, he would be going somewhere on Monday morning, but this year his parents have categorically forbidden him to worry about that. Jason is torn between resenting to enforced idleness and knowing they’re right, that he couldn’t possibly deal with caddying at a country club or teaching swimming lessons or anything else he’s ever done. So he just puts on some jeans and a t-shirt from Pop-Pop’s hardware store and slumps downstairs. Everyone is already out for the day, Dad is at work, Mom is at her Ladies’ Auxiliary Meeting, and his brothers are at day camp. There’s some bacon in the fridge for him, and Mom has left some sliced tomatoes and lettuce. He sends up the first prayer in quite a while that has no penitence and misery, just heartfelt gratitude for his mother’s love and consideration, and puts together a BLT.

With no one around to tag along, Jason can go for a walk in the woods, where he can pray and practice his solo without bothering anyone but some whitetail deer and a few rabbits. It’s good to have singing to relieve his feelings, and the whole outdoors to fill up.

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross
The emblem of suffering and shame

And doesn’t Jason know about suffering and shame, lately. At least Christ went through it all for the best possible reasons, Jason is just crucified on his own weakness.

And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain

Lost sinners like Jason. Emphasis on ‘lost. He has no idea what to do with himself, and letting his voice resonate on up out of his whole body helps to ground him. It’s like a red dot on the map of his soul, YOU ARE HERE.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross (rugged cross)
Till my trophies at last I lay down

That line is a big part of why they chose it for Jason. The Christian humility of the star athlete singing that line. And Jason had always approved, but he had never felt it the way he does now, that he would part with every bit of worldly success just to not feel so filthy, like such a disappointment to the Lord.

I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown

Jason will never earn that starry crown at this rate. He sincerely repents, but he knows he will sin again, and again, and again. It makes him want to cry, but he puts it into the rest of the song, instead. Chrissy was too anxious to stick with choir past the Sunday School level, but it has always steadied Jason. He had even stuck around and did rhythm and harmony while his voice was changing, which a lot of boys just sat out.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the concert are a mix of good and bad. Chrissy calls Jason up after dinner on Monday to double-check that he’s okay. Of course his mom called her to tell her he was because moms are embarrassing and great like that, and they had talked for a while. She’s coming to the concert, and that makes him happy and nervous and nauseated and determined to do a really, really good job. His brothers have started putting their fingers in their ears every time he sings any of the concert pieces to practice, but especially The Old Rugged Cross, and even his father, who loves religious music, says it might be a bit much.

Still, on Tuesday they’re able to go out to lunch and Jason feels pretty much normal, and can tease his brothers and argue over what to order like always, and he’s even able to make a little money, because old Mr. Henderson’s regular landscaper is on vacation, and he’s grumbling that the high grass is an invitation to snakes. He might be cranky, but he isn’t wrong, and Jason wears thick to boots to mow, despite the heat. He actually feels pretty good at the end of that day.

Wednesday is pretty good too, and then Thursday is a disaster, and he can’t even look at himself in the mirror because of his filthy dreams and he really wishes he could have gotten that job at the sawmill some of the boys were talking about. The kind of heat where they have to pass out salt tablets to keep people from fainting, but good money. And he wouldn’t have time to think.

He’s useless right now, and it rankles almost as bad as knowing that he’s a dog Beta and bent like a Silly Straw. What is he going to do? A dog is one thing, but how is he going to tell his parents he’s bent? What are they going to do? He knows what the church has to say about it. He’s a sinner, sick and twisted and oh no, they might not let him be around his brothers anymore. Oh… maybe he shouldn’t be around his brothers anymore, he would never mean to hurt them, but that line about the road to Hell is right… Jason starts to cry again. It’s a sunny summer morning and he hasn’t even found clean underpants yet and he is disgusting.

The phone rings, and it’s so loud Jason jumps. He can hear his mother answering it downstairs, and he grabs his nasty sheet and wads it under the bed, along with his briefs. He’ll scrub them off in the bathtub later. That done, he flings on a bathrobe and goes to take a shower, hoping he’ll feel less terrible. He does get cleaner physically, but he also starts to remember what he was dreaming about, so there probably no real net change. He had dreamt of being in his own bed in his dream, but the bed had been on fire, and he had been completely naked, legs spread over Chrissy’s lap as she had encouraged him down onto her cock, cooing, “Just the tip, baby, I promise we can stop if you don’t like it,” and then Eddie had been behind him, one sure, callused hand wrapped around Jason’s cock as he called him a sweet little thing and a pretty boy, black, diabolical claws where his nails should have been.

Jason manages not to jerk off in the shower because he believes in discipline. He turns the water on so hot it stings, and dries off so roughly that his skin hurts for a while afterward. When he gets to the kitchen, he finds his mother drinking sparkling water with lime, and looking hopeful.

“Jason, darling,” she says, and he makes himself smile, because he loves his mother. “That call was Mr. Munson.” Jason’s blood turns to ice, thinking that somehow Eddie’s uncle knows and wants to kill him, but that’s ridiculous, why would Mom look so calm if he was angry? “He has been very sweet and generous. He doesn’t have to tell anyone about himself, but he heard about your situation--” Omega or not, Jason is going to kill Eddie for telling tales, “—and called me to say that he is an instinctive Beta, and knows how it is. Any time you want to talk, you can call. He left his phone number and his work schedule.”

His phone number. The phone number to the trailer where Eddie lives. How is this Jason’s life? It would be Mr. Munson, but if Jason doesn’t talk to someone besides himself and a disapproving God, he’s going to explode, and he tried calling one of those 1-800 numbers, but the person on the other end didn’t sound any older than him, and was full of chipper platitudes about everything being all right. This might be better, even if it is way, way too close to Eddie.

“I… wow. Thanks, Mom. I think that will really help.”

“I think so, too. I told him I’d tell you,” Mom says, and then makes him sit down so she can fuss around and pour his orange juice and fix him a plate.

It feels so weird to say, but so important, too. “Mom? I really love you.”

“I… well, thank you, dear. You haven’t said that in a long time. I love you, too,” she says, and when Jason sees a melon slice smile, two eggs for eyes, and a strawberry for a nose, like she used to make when he was six, he almost cries.

Chapter Text

Jason really isn’t sure which is worse, talking about this stuff in his nice, normal house, or going into Eddie’s actual home and talking about it there. In the end, the latter wins, because even though his little brothers are supposed to be gone until three, he can’t shake the idea of them coming back early and being corrupted, somehow. He calls Wayne back, and it turns out that Wayne’s weekend is actually Thursday-Friday, and that it’s late in the evening for him, but that he doesn’t mind at all if Jason comes over. He also mentions, very casually, that Eddie is spending the night at Chrissy’s grandparents’s place, so there’s no chance of running into him.

“Thank you for being so sensitive, Mr. Munson,” Jason says, “but I bear your nephew no ill-will. I assume he was the one who asked you to call, sir?”

“Asked?” Wayne snorts. “Demanded, more like.” He chuckles. “I don’t mind at all, kid. I remember being young. And you can call me Wayne. Come on down, I’ll be waiting.”

Mom flutters around almost like it’s Jason’s first day of kindergarten, but finally he’s on the road and can make it to trailer park, and to the correct spot. It’s less unkempt than he might have thought, and sure enough, there’s no sign of Eddie’s van. Wayne is sitting on the porch, sipping a beer. He gestures to the rocking chair next to him, and Jason takes it.

“Beer?” Wayne asks, tapping the cooler at their feet with his toe.

“I—uh… what?”

“If we’re gonna have a man-to-man talk about things, I figure you can have a beer. Don’t lie to me that it’s the first, boy.”

Jason snorts. “No, sir, it is not,” he says, pulling one out of the ice and cracking it open. The first gulp goes down like Divine mercy.

“So. Everything is just too damn much, huh?”

“Yes sir, it is.”

“Don’t have to sir me if it don’t come natural,” Wayne says, and sighs. “I remember being your age. Your mama told me about the medicine, though, and I don’t know what that’s like.”

“Like I went from being normal to being sick to being--this!” Jason groans, and presses the cold can to his forehead. “I’m not trying to be offense, Mr. Munson, sir, Wayne, I just… The church is pretty clear. Omega to Alpha, woman to man, and Beta to Beta.”

“Oh, I know, son. Even if I didn’t remember, they’ve got enough signage and other bullshit to remind me,” Wayne says, and takes a long pull of his beer. “Look, the way I figure it, if God didn’t want us like this, we wouldn’t be like this.”

“I don’t just mean a dog, I mean bent!”

“I know what you mean, and we call ourselves ‘stone.’ Don’t be talking about dog Betas in the bars you’re going to want to go to, you’ll get your ass kicked.”

Jason’s jaw drops. “The ba-- I’m not-- what?! No, I’m a Christian!” Jason jumps up from the chair, leaving it rocking behind him.

“So am I,” Wayne says, shrugging and draining his drink, setting the empty can aside and snagging another from the cooler.

“And you let Eddie conduct himself the way he does?” Jason is trying not to yell, but this is ridiculous!

Wayne actually smiles at him. “For one thing, sonny, Eddie is his own person. For another thing, while not professed and saved, he doesn’t actually have anything against the Man from Galilee. For a third, being too narrow-minded about that kinda thing is one of the leading causes of kids running away from home at really early ages and I wasn’t gonna push it.”

“I… I just….”

“Jason, sit down.” Jason sits down, and picks up his beer, taking another sip. He probably only gets one. “One an hour,” Wayne says, as if he’s reading Jason’s mind, “that’s how long it takes to process. You don’t have to nurse that if we’re here all afternoon.”

“I… thanks, Wayne.”

“Okay, so the first thing you need to know about being an instinctual Beta is just what those instincts are. It isn’t just being able to smell when an Alpha is about to lose their fool mind or when an Omega is in prodrome. It’s not just responding to scent cues, and knowing more about that whole A-O dance.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks. He has been feeling pulled in a few strange directions lately, but he has hardly had time to notice, too busy worrying about hellfire and how delicious Chrissy smells and what Eddie’s hair would feel like in his hands.

“Yeah. I’m sure you got the big ones for Alphas and Omegas in school, right?”

“Uh… Alphas mostly want to protect, and provide, and Omegas to nurture and breed, right?”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Well, sort of? There’s a lot more to it, but I’m supposed to be telling you about Beta instincts, anyway. My point is, almost all of us tuned into these instincts end up drawn to Alphas and Omegas at the same time. Once you know how to look for them, there’s way more triads in the state of Indiana than you would expect.”

Jason’s mind just keeps getting blown all over again, but he tries to keep up. “The Beta instincts are to mediate, and to caretake. Between an Alpha and an Omega, a stone Beta can be like glue, binding them tighter together, and they can offer more care for any children that result.”

“Children?!” Jason squawks, and Wayne sighs.

“Kid, you’re gonna give me a headache if you keep doin’ that,” he grumbles, and Jason cringes a little.

“It’s just, I… in that environment?”

“There is nothin’ immoral about love, and if you’re gonna keep this up, you can get the hell off this porch. Is God love or not?”

Jason opens his mouth, shuts it again, and lets Wayne explain everything that only he and Wayne experience, their own layer of reality.

Chapter Text

Among other things in life that he thought he would never do and ended up doing anyway way (eating an earthworm, jumping off the roof of the daycare) Eddie is now going to an, honest-to-Jeebus church concert. The things we do for love. He can only hope the guys never find out. Because he is actually entering a church and trying to not actively make life harder for Chrissy, he does not wear the battle vest. He wears a nice button down and slacks. They’re both black, and he wears engineer boots instead of dress shoes and some silver chains instead of a tie, but it’s presentable. A little black eyeliner, too, and a silver clip to keep his hair back. Not too much for church, makeup and hair is just more fun now that he has someone to help him get it right, and also has an Alpha to keep it from mattering if he turns out ‘too pretty.’

Eddie has always liked makeup, people just started creeping on him so hard right when he first started playing with it that he has never really been able to enjoy it. But now he has Chrissy, who was mercilessly drilled in how to do everything perfectly, because Betas girls are supposed to know, and has taught him how to do a really nice sort of smudged wing, and who is ferocious in his defense. The last time some nasty old bastard who could have been Eddie’s father had started trying to taste the air around him while asking if a pretty thing like him was here alone (at the grocery store, for fuck’s sake!) Chrissy had appeared out of nowhere to take Eddie’s hand and snarl, “He’s not,” stepping between them and giving Mr. Creepy a look that had made him step back so quickly had almost fallen. It’s so cute how surprised she still is that stuff like that makes Eddie absolutely melt.

Fuckers better behave tonight, God is watching. Forget the concert, He needs to admire His handiwork in Chrissy. She’s wearing white, to contrast Eddie, she says, and it really shows off how much healthier she is now, skin and hair glowing against it. They’re getting ready at her grandparents’s place, because of course Clarissa and James actually want to go to this thing, and care about various kids in the choir and know the choir director and everything. Chrissy is just going to support Jason, and of course Eddie is going to support Chrissy, for whatever his support is worth in a place where everyone is going to be willing him to die the whole time. Whatever.

Clarissa tells them they look very nice, and really, she looks nice herself, in swathed in old-lady lavender with a little pillbox hat. James is of course in the classic grey suit, but it fits properly and is made out of good fabric. Eddie just hopes he isn’t an embarrassment, and climbs into the backseat with Chrissy. She takes his hand like she knows what he’s thinking.

“I know this is going to be a long evening for you, Eddie,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Evenstar, this is the least of what I would endure for you,” he says. He’s past cringing at her grandparents hearing him calling Chrissy ‘Evenstar,’ ‘princess,’ or ‘my lady,’ they’ve had plenty of time to get used to his nerdy ways, and Clarissa says it’s sweet, and James says it’s fine as long as it comes from the heart.

“You’re so ridiculous, Eddie,” Chrissy says softly, and kisses his cheek.

The church is crowded, and as they make their way to their seats, greeting about eight million people Eddie doesn’t know and will probably never see again, he marvels again at the vicissitudes of life, that he’s here at a church concert with a previously-presumed Beta girl, mostly to see her ex-boyfriend sing. At least they’re quick about it, letting everyone find a spot and then the preacher’s wife just gets up there in her dress of what Eddie thinks is called ‘dusty rose’ and thanks them all for coming, then gives her husband the mic for a mercifully brief prayer. There’s stuff about angels and Satan in it, but Eddie doesn’t feel too singled out.

And then everyone files up there in, thank Christian God, basic show black instead of white robes or something. Suits for the boys and the choir director, simple dresses for the girls and the lady playing the piano. While the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ and ‘Jesus Paid It All’ are not exactly Eddie’s kind of music, he knows good vocals when he hears them, and this little white Indiana church really does have a decent choir. The arrangements are good, too, letting the altos and baritones actually have something to fuckin’ do, and letting ‘Amazing Grace’ have that gospel, almost bluesy swing that always makes it work better.

Jason is in the rank and file, and Eddie has almost forgotten about him as various other soloists have come up to do their bit. An incredibly skinny girl who seems to have put everything into height and voice, nearly taking the roof off with ‘Crown Him With Many Crowns’, a chunky boy who puts his whole soul into ‘Blessed Assurance,’ and a few others. These kids are actually pretty good, and when Jason comes down off the risers to the single mic, Eddie has that shock of memory, his focus snapping back to what they’re actually here for.

While Eddie is not the church-going type, it’s not as if he hasn’t been familiar with everything on the program. He’s white trash, he’s from Indiana, there’s no way a little Evangelical music hasn’t gotten into his bones. So he knows there’s a few ways to skin each of these cats, and piano can make it hard to tell which one is in use. There’s a relaxed, country kind of way to do ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’ and a more soaring, gospel-flavored one. This version is surprisingly spare, and Eddie appreciates it. Jason opens up the first note, and it’s… interesting.

Jason doesn’t shout God’s praise, but Eddie is sure they can hear him in the back of the house. His voice has a sweet, honeyed quality to it. Eddie’s pretty sure it’s what he saw called a Baryton-Martin baritone in some old book, almost a tenor but with more basement on it. There’s a soft huskiness to it that’s really… touchable, and Jason lets in a little bit of strain, and idea that the worshiper really will cling, that they need. It’s enough to make him shiver in the heat, and he can just barely smell Chrissy’s pheromones rising like petrichor.

Eddie has been murmuring a few asides into Christine’s ear all evening, not fully capable of containing himself, but aware that being audible during the performance will send him to the real Hell, for actually terrible people. Now, he murmurs, so close his lips are brushing her ear, “Well I don’t know what they meant that voice to do, but I just had an impure thought.”

Chapter Text

Jason is usually keyed up and peppy after a performance, but this time he feels wrung out and kind of dazed and just wants to go home. Of course, he can’t, there’s the mandatory bars and punch afterward, and once he has accepted some congratulations and kept a decorous smile plastered on as long as he can stand it, he takes his moment to slip out one of the side doors and into the warm summer night, walking into the shadows under the trees and sucking in huge breaths, wishing the air wasn’t so humid. He watches the fireflies as he waits for his heart to beat just a little slower, the darkness out here soothing his nerves.

It’s scent that lets him know he’s not alone. A rich, hot, bitter-sweet sea-salt curl of scent wafts across his face like cigarette smoke, and he goes weak in the knees. It’s the smell of Chrissy and Eddie mingled, their cycles synched, prodrome and pre-rut almost touchable. It is unholy how delicious that combination is, and he breathes it and tries not to moan, feeling like he’s losing his mind. He would run, but which way would he even go? That combined scent is all around him now, and it’s all he can do not to whine audibly.

There’s rustling in the bushes, and then Chrissy is right there, asking if he’s okay in a voice so soft and so gentle it makes him want to cry. She reaches to cup his face and he shouldn’t let her touch him but he just wants so badly… he does whine now, he can’t help it, swaying into her hands.

“Ssshhhh… easy, Jay,” she murmurs, “easy.”

And Jason could just collapse into her arms, but Eddie is right there next to her and that will definitely make him mad, and Jason can’t get into a fight in his choir suit and Eddie smells so fucking good and Jason’s head is spinning-- when Chrissy tucks his face into the side of her neck, everything stops. There is nothing but her scent and he’s so weak in the knees he’s worried about knocking her over and then there’s another set of arms around him, helping him stay on his feet, and it should feel like an intrusion but it just feels right. Nothing has ever felt so right in Jason’s life, and it’s terrifying. He whimpers, and grabs a fistful of Eddie’s shirt.

“Please…” Jason whispers, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for.

“Just breathe, baby,” Chrissy says softly, and Jason struggles to obey.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Eddie whispers, sounding awestruck and off-balance. “I just-- I don’t-- fuck, Chrissy, what are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, “but…”

“I know,” Eddie says, “he smells amazing now.” He smells Jason’s hair like they do this every day, and Jason whines, confused and angry and turned on and a bunch of other feelings he can’t name.

“I’m not bent!” Jason tries to snap, but it comes out much more pathetic than he means it to.

“I dunno, Jason,” Eddie murmurs into his ear, “you’re pretty much the filling in an Alpha/Omega sandwich right now, and you smell like you love it.”

Jason wants to hit him, wants to run away and who cares if there’s nowhere to go, but he has also never felt anything better than their arms around him. “I—I—“

“Eddie, don’t tease,” Chrissy says, quiet and affectionate still, but very firm. Jason whimpers before he can help it, a high, pleading little sound that he has never heard out of himself or anyone else, and then Chrissy lets out a breathless growl and she’s nosing into the gap between his collar and the skin of his neck and he should tell her to stop but he just doesn’t want to, sagging back against Eddie’s chest because yeah, his knees are definitely gone. Oh Lord Jesus help him, her breath, it’s so hot and humid across the nape of his neck, and was he always so sensitive there?

And then Chrissy growls, and it’s like his brain shuts down and his body acts on its own. He scrambles to tug his tie loose and unbutton his collar as fast as his shaking hands will allow, tipping his head forward and biting the heel of his hand to muffle a moan as Chrissy leans around to bite the back of his neck, just holding him for a moment and then sinking her teeth in harder and harder as Eddie just digs his heels in and keeps all three of them from falling over. Jason feels electrified, like he might come in his pants if his heart doesn’t give out first, and he’s so grateful for Eddie’s arms around him, it’s like that wiry strength is holding him together and the thought makes him whimper almost as much as the perfect pain of Chrissy’s teeth in his neck.

“Oh,” Chrissy whispers, sinking back down from her tiptoes, only able to reach Jason’s neck because of his jellied legs, “oh, Jay, are you all right?”

“Y-yes,” Jason whispers, and tries and fails not to tremble at the cloud of Eddie’s delicious scent that’s wrapped around them all. He wants to spend the whole night pressed between them and discover everything, let them take him apart and put him back together again, but he knows he’s not brave enough yet. For now he swallows hard, and puts his collar and tie back in order. “I… Can I call you tomorrow, Chrissy?”

“Yes,” she says softly, and she and Eddie both look surprised when he turns to face Eddie.

“Thank you,” Jason says, feeling ridiculous and ridiculously shy. The way Eddie smiles at him is beautiful, and he actually catches a lock of his long hair and hides behind it, and how has Jason ever pretended for a second that he isn’t adorable? Eddie extends his hand, and Jason almost just shakes it, because they are two guys, but that’s what people do at business meetings, and Eddie is an Omega. A really pretty one, who has been kinder to Jason than he deserves. So Jason takes Eddie’s hand, bows, and presses a light kiss to the knuckles. The smooth skin and sweet scent is its own reward, but the barely-audible way Eddie gasps is worth everything. He straightens up, turns to give Chrissy a kiss on the cheek, and then goes to find his family, profoundly disturbed but still feeling better than he has a long time.