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Even with years around his pack and the stark changes in their scents, Hitoshi still gagged awake. The putrid stench of rotten honeysuckle does not pair very nicely with the sickeningly sweet scent of fear-induced slick. Years being mates with Denki, however, got Hitoshi very used to that slight difference in smell, between pleasurable slick and fear-encompassing. Blinking himself into awareness, he could barely make out his smallest mate’s body in the pure darkness of their nest. A sharp tug to the blanket Hitoshi was wrapped in, brought much needed alertness. “Firefly,” his voice was merely a murmur and Denki was still flinching.
Maybe it’s cheating, reaching out grabby hands to the baby of the pack, because anyone who knows Denki knows he can never turn down a cuddle, but anything to get the pup in his arms. With only a small whine of complaint, the omega was crawling into Hitoshi’s awaiting arms. The mindwasher didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers under the soft sleep collar, pressing into the bonding marks. He will never tire of the way Denki positively melts at the jolt of sweet-happy- sated chemicals flooding through him, and he can’t help but press a sweet kiss or three to his face. The forehead, nose, a cheek or two.
“Nightmares?” He asks, between presses of the lips. And the smaller omega can’t even shake his head, merely humming a nonresponse, but Hitoshi gets it. Of course he does, they’re nestmates. Hitoshi pauses his ministrations, craning his neck down to lick straight into Denki’s scent gland. He licks again. “Are you in preheat?”
The blond shrugs a little, like it’s not a big deal, “prob’bly. You smell like it too,” he added on, and it could have been mistaken for halfheartedly if Hitoshi didn’t feel the slight tenseness in his muscles, how he won’t look up, how he doesn’t kiss back. “Thought it was normal cramps earlier, y’know, but now I’m leaking.” And the worst part is, Hitoshi lied to himself about the same thing. When he was sweating more than usual on a pathetically simple patrol, when he almost keened when Izuku left that morning for the agency, when his lower abdomen started to clench in pain. He told himself it’s just the stress, that his inner omega is on edge with Katsuki and Eijirou on their stupidly long mission. That it’s the anxiety of Izuku being gone more than he’s home, taking care of their missing mates best he can from the safety of their agency. That it’s the worry of Shouto isolating again, though no one can really blame him.
Hitoshi isn’t stupid, he knows what preheat feels like, can sense it even before the lower back pain and mild fever, but he’s also prone to denial stubbornness. “Let’s go get you a pad,” he decides before he can get the time to freak the fuck out, because odds are Izuku isn’t home. His herding instincts have been haywire, since the moment two of their mates left. The first day Izuku comforted himself maybe even more than the others, by corralling everyone, and sleeping all tangled up together as if the closeness will hide the fact they’re incomplete. After that, he transitioned less from smothering his mates still present and obsessing over the mates gone. Not like anyone can fault him for it, but it is quite inconvenient when Hitoshi needs his alpha right about now.
Denki nodded, intertwining his fingers with Hitoshi’s, kissing the knuckles, “gotta wash the blankets too, the top ones,” and god that hurts. Because Denki is the last one to ever want to wash any nesting materials, even after heat when everything is soaked and messy. “Smells off,” and he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t make it easier when he knows it’ll wash away some of Kats and Ei’s scent too, stale as it is. Hitoshi only lets the nestling up after pulling him into a kiss, licking into his mouth just to hear that cute little happy squeak. “How’re your cramps?” Denki questions while he struggles at balancing the large duvet stained with his slick.
Hitoshi grabbed the other blanket, as well as he could with one of his hands taken, “bearable. I’ll get our heat pads though.” He has to slow his pace, when Denki sucks in a shuddering breath, wiggling a bit as he tries to soothe his aching stomach. “Here, I’ll do the laundry and grab the meds, you go get a change of clothes.” He pauses, when Denki’s scent sours more. It sets his inner omega on edge, because that’s not right. The little one normally thrives under the guidance of his mates, loves following directions and being good for them. The subby baby normally gets all sugary sweet, like diving your hands in a pool of honey.
Hitoshi waits, letting Denki think through whatever was bothering him. It has to be serious, if he’s not just blurting out whatever is on his mind. He’s not exactly known for being tactful, after all. “Can you grab the suppressants with the pain meds?”
Hitoshi doesn’t mean for his scent to bitter, hates how his mate wrinkles his nose and squirms uncomfortably. He doesn’t mean to stare silently, only working up his already stressed out nestmate. He doesn’t mean whatever it is that gets Denki’s eyes all wide and glassy, looking properly chastised when he didn’t even do anything wrong .
He clears his throat, trying to will his scent back to a semblance of normalcy. “You don’t want to have your heat?” He has to make sure, even though there’s no other use for suppressants. Not the ones they have in the house, for back when Denki’s heats were still irregular and too painful to be worth it. Not even with five pack members happy and ready to pleasure and sate him.
The blond shrugs, dropping the blankets down on the floor when it’s clear they won’t be moving forward yet. He wraps an arm around himself, the other sticking two fingers in his mouth, and Hitoshi hates himself a little bit- that the baby of the pack feels like he has to self soothe because of him. That he has to seek comfort from himself rather than going to Hitoshi, who is barely an arms width away. Voice muffled, “I’s not like I don’t want my heat, but it just won’ work. It’s early.”
He nods, “yeah, but we’ve had early heats before and we didn’t suppress them.” He doesn’t mention that one time Denki had two heats within a month and how the whole pack was out of the agency for weeks, not that much of an asshole. It’s not like it was a pleasant experience anyway, the hospital visit during that second cycle still haunts him sometimes and he wasn’t even the patient.
Hitoshi can’t stand the distance between them, even if they may be on the verge of a disagreement, can’t keep watching Denki rub his own tummy in an attempt to ease his cramps. Denki melts into the embrace immediately, despite how both their scents still have the underlying acidity, almost chemical like. He ducks his head under Hitoshi’s chin, easily giving into his slight dominance over him. Pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a ‘ pop ,’ he gives a couple kitten licks to the spot just below where Hitoshi’s sleep collar lies, for his own comfort just as much as the other. “I don’t want to have heat without everyone.” And Hitoshi has to bite his lip to keep from retorting immediately. If he had he wouldn’t have heard the small, “it’s not fair.”
One hand rubbing the small of his back, hoping to ease the tension in his lower spine, “to them or to you?” He cards his fingers through the soft hair, brushing away the frizziness. He would purr, if he could, to rid the little one of the tightness in his joints. To help ease him into a lighter headspace, ready to be taken care of. But he can’t get himself to do more than hum a little. Pathetically.
There’s a breath, “them,” Denki answers. Hitoshi doesn’t have to take a taste to know it’s a half truth. He doesn’t press the answer though, a pungent spike in the air stops him. Denki whines pitifully at the slick leaking out of himself, the poor cub.
(It’s like a punch to Hitoshi’s gut. Or maybe that’s just the cramps)
With a kiss to his temple, lips immediately warmed from the increasing fever going through both their bodies, they separate. “I’ll take care of the blankets,” he doesn’t really need to say it, but he doesn’t want to stay silent. It’s not right. The distance doesn’t feel right either, goes against his inner omega desperate to stay with its nestmate. To lie together in the den, skin on skin, until their scents are one. But not like this, not when they’re both riled up and too scared to break the tentative whatever-it-is in the air.
He gets a nod. “I love you,” Denki whispers, scent still wrong wrong wrong . Hitoshi says it back, wishes his scent showed how much he means it. It feels like they’re fighting.
They don’t have to go different directions, there’s a bathroom right by the laundry room, but Denki doesn’t go that way. He goes to one of the full restrooms, one with a bath. As soon as his nestmate is out of hearing distance, Hitoshi lets out the choked sob bubbling in his throat. Because how can Denki want to skip his heat? Doesn’t he know what that means?
He’s not stupid, he has to know. He knows Hitoshi would never suppress a heat, he can’t, he won’t, he can’t- And he knows if only one of them goes through the cycle, they’ll get out of sync. They’ve been in sync since almost the beginning, it’s been years since they haven’t gone through their heat together. Hitoshi presses a hand to his mouth, muffling any sobs that want to come out. And it hurts . His instincts are screaming, howling at him to go find his mates and nestle everyone together in a big puppy pile. But half his mates aren’t even home, and who’s to say if Shouto wants company right now. He’s probably in his own nest trying to comfort himself, he doesn’t need Hitoshi crawling over and demanding attention. He needs to take care of himself, and Hitoshi has to do the same.
Scrubbing harshly at his eyes, in a way he knows Eijirou would have scolded him for, he finally starts the laundry. With less care than he normally would, throws the comforters into the machine, tossing in a detergent pod, and starts the cycle. As much as he wants to sink to the ground and cry a little, keen for a mate to come comfort him, give into his fevered brain, he instead forces himself to walk to the utility room. They don’t even keep the suppressants with the rest of the medicine, that’s how long it’s been since anyones needed them.
Checking the box, he almost hisses at himself when he’s disappointed to find they aren’t expired. He’s the one in the wrong, he knows, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Stuffing the meds in his pocket, he goes off to find their heating pads. He meanders a bit, even though he knows which closet they’re in. It doesn’t sweeten his scent, but it does give him time to reel it in best he can. There’s still the underlying preheat stench, now that he’s not refusing to accept that particular reality, but the bitterness has subsided momentarily. Only once he’s (mostly) sure he won’t burst into tears the second he sees his mate, does he go find Denki. His scent like a beacon. Given the fact Denki landed himself in the master bathroom, Hitoshi knows there’s already pain meds somewhere inside, if he decides he needs them. “Firefly, I got them,” he calls through the door. As much as he hates the idea, he has no right to keep the suppressants from his mate.
After a moment, the door opens, and god if Hitoshi didn’t already feel like shit he sure did now. Face red and blotchy, the expanse between his eyes and eyebrows already beginning to swell, stood Denki. Hitoshi couldn’t help but wrap him in his arms, hoping the omega wouldn’t mind his own tears in their state of oversensitivity. They just hold each other for a moment, can’t do anything but bask in the warmth (almost too warm) and the comfort.
Snuffling a sad sound, “I don’t wanna skip my heat, but I’m not going through this cycle.” Even though Hitoshi already knew that, he couldn’t help the keening whine that ripped from his throat. Couldn’t help the hurt filling the spaces between his ribs, behind his belly, under his bones. Denki nuzzled into Hitoshi’s neck, pressing his tongue into the glands. Licking like an apology, like he can press some love back into his skin. That if he sucks enough marks and nips enough times that the adoration will seep into his cells, drip into his veins, course through his blood.
Hitoshi can’t help the shudder that runs through his body, exhaling a little puff of air. “I don’t wanna be without Kats and Ei.” And that’s fair, Hitoshi knows it’s fair. It’s not like he’s eager to be without two of his mates. (The mere thought makes his stomach clench more than the cramps already were) “Izuku and Shouto, they won’t really be here either.” To Hitoshi’s hum of confusion, he continues, “they won’t be focused on us. Sho hasn’t really been present lately, and Izuku won’t be able to stop thinking of the others.” It doesn’t spell out a good time. And Denki is probably right, it’s the easier solution surely.
But Hitoshi just can’t. He almost wails it, really, “I can’t skip it, I can’t not have my heat.” He must look pathetic, blubbering like a pup and clinging to the baby of the pack like an anchor. It has to be pre-heat hitting him harder than usual, that has to be the reason he’s acting so weak.
Denki runs his fingers through his hair, purring like Izuku or Katsuki would to settle them, “I know, and you don’t have to take the suppressants. No one is making you, I’m not making you.” How awful of a person does it make Hitoshi to wish he could make Denki not suppress his heat? Of course he believes in their body their choice, but how is he supposed to go through heat alone?
How is he supposed to do any of this alone?
He’s about to voice that thought, like a petulant child, when they’re interrupted. “Hey, you okay?” It’s not clear which of them Sho is referring to, but it didn’t really matter when he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both omegas. Nothing really matters when you’re surrounded by pack- is what Hitoshi wants to believe. For a moment, Hitoshi wants to pull back, wants to say it’s fine, nothing to worry about. But then the soothing peppermint bark scent surrounds him like a blanket and he can’t help but cocoon himself in. Shouto presses his nose into Denki’s hair, taking a deep whiff, before doing the same to Hitoshi’s neck. “Have you told Izuku?” He no doubt could already tell they’re early.
While Denki shook his head, Hitoshi swallowed down the lump in his throat, threatening to stop the airflow, “not yet. We’re trying to figure out what to do first.” How his voice could come out so steady, albeit quiet, is only from years of practice. Maybe it’s not something to be proud of, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it.
Shouto hums, simultaneously rubbing both his mate’s backs, spreading his comforting scent over them. “He can help, if you need him to. If want to explain to me the situation too, I’ll listen.” He doesn’t necessarily need to remind them, that he’s there to listen and support and guide, but it brings that gooey warm feeling back into Hitoshi’s tummy. And it is a valid point, calling up Izuku now rather than after another pre-heat induced emotion fest. He would never force them either way, to have their heat or not to, but god does it sound nice to have their alphas comfort right now. There’s nothing like the pack leader hugging so protectively during pre-heat. He always gets so adorably dominant and it’s positively lovely . It makes his inner omega simply preen.
They’ll have to tell him regardless, it wasn’t like they were intending to keep it a secret, but it’s better to inform their leader sooner rather than later. Instances… of this sort, are not the kind of thing the pack keeps tight lipped about between each other. If they did keep it from him entirely, it could easily earn both omegas a bite. Keeping medical issues a secret is a much different feat than simple privacy, after all. Even if getting a hard nip, relishing in the feel-good flooding through his body and going absolutely boneless sounds like heaven right now, he doesn’t exactly want to be reprimanded.
Denki murmurs from where he’s squished between their chests, not that he minds if his sweetening scent is anything to go by, “want alpha.” He’s not exactly whiny, but it’s a close thing. Shouto leans down, pressing a kiss against the baby’s throat. By the pleasant little ‘ ah ’ Denki gives, the peck was undoubtedly more than just a press of the lips. It’s a good thing, making the little one all happy-sated-happy. Shouto doesn’t nip as hard as the alphas, too apprehensive about actually hurting them, but it still loosens all their muscles and releases the tension entrapping their bones.
“I’ll call him,” Shouto decides, before leaning up to Hitoshi. He soothes his hand over the soft collar, a silent question that is met with a much too eager response. The bastard chuckles a bit, at the flowery want in Hitoshi’s scent, before giving a nip to his own glands. It doesn’t hit as hard as when Izuku does it, isn’t like a door opening to a warm room, feeling the coziness flood out and engulf you. It’s slower, like easing into a pool, body slowly adjusting to the change, before it’s the most comfortable place in the world.
Hitoshi isn’t really sure what’s happening next, a flurry of movement and scents and god is that purring? Purring feels so good, it’s so nice, and god he just wants to wrap himself in the feeling. He might as well do that… yeah. That’s lovely.
—
He’s in the realm between awake and asleep when his nose is wrinkling, eyes scrunching as they refuse to open just yet. A forest fire, he’d imagine is what it smells like, like a bonfire just beginning to cinder. The edges of the logs crisp as the moisture seeps into the smoke. He exhales and inhales overcooked chocolate- if anxiety had a name. He can’t help the completely dignified whine he lets out, as the cozy haze filling his head starts to fade. As his bones reconstruct within his flesh and little prickles tingle down his limbs.
He nuzzles closer to the body he’s curled up against. Honey and sugar and it’s caramelizing against the roof of his mouth and god he wants to sink his teeth in. He does, he thinks, or he tries to. Opens his mouth wide and latches on, feeling the skin of nestmate and sighing into it. A hand grasps his jaw, not painfully, and massages the corners. His grasp loosens as his mouth wants to hang open at the feeling. “You’re okay, he’s okay,” his alpha whispers, soothing with his voice just as much as he does with his hands.
He noses toward Izuku, eyes still closed in a stubborn attempt to keep a bit of his sleepy haze. The chuckle rings like bells for a bride and Hitoshi can’t help the likely dopey smile gracing his face. He wants to sink into it, his embrace, his love, like digging his toes into the dirt after a rain. “He’s progressing faster than usual,” Shouto comments. And Hitoshi instinctively turns towards his voice, is about to reach out when he remembers what a god awful mate he is.
He forces his eyes open, pulls away from his alpha as much as his inner omega keens at the idea of not being smothered in his leader’s body, full weight pressing him into the nest. The honey scent in their little den is too sweet, too strong to be anything but pre-heat. Fuck , Hitoshi fucked up. Because he’s a fuck up. A complete utter fuck up.
He crawls over Denki’s slumbering body, knowing the pressure will help his anxiety, reaches a hand out and rubs the pads of his fingers over his scent gland. Entices his scent stronger, more pungent, and open-mouthed breathes in. Fuck .
“Where’re the suppressants?” Izuku’s scent doesn’t sour, doesn’t bitter, but it neutralizes in a way Hitoshi knows means he’s suppressing his actual emotions. He knows he should say something, but that thought goes on the backburner for now. “Denki baby, you gotta wake up,” he traces his fingers over Denki’s nose, the ridge of his eyebrows, the curve of his nose. He eases away the little crease of not-wanting-to-wake-up that wrinkles his skin. “C’mon pretty,” he coos at the sleepy omega. It’s almost enough to loosen the knot in his chest.
Hitoshi swallows down whatever wants to blurt out of his mouth at the sight of the suppressants, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he imagines choking them down. “Denki said he doesn’t want to go through this heat,” he explains while still trying to ease the nestling awake. His little snuffles a clear sign he’s fighting lucidness.
It’s hard to tell what Izuku is thinking, when he’s made his scent so overly pleasant and neutral it feels almost sterile. Hitoshi glances at him, in between murmurings to Denki, only sees the gears turning. Shouto, on the other hand, is much easier to read. His ‘stoic’ façade long since fallen. Even without his scent ringing in confusion, it’s starkly obvious his worry and perplexity.
When Denki finally stirs, eyes blinking open, he smiles at his mates for all of two seconds before he winces. Surely another cramp impeding his enjoyment of his pack alpha back. The almost-relief of being almost-whole. He doesn’t whimper, doesn’t need to before Hitoshi is helping him into a sitting position, allowing the omega to curl up his body up small small small. Like if he’s scrunched tiny enough the pain won’t be able to find him. Pulling the bottle from the instruction box, he offers them to Denki. Shouto already having a jug of water ready, likely chilled from the mini fridge just outside the nest border.
Denki clenches the suppressant bottle in his hand, his knuckles as white as the pills inside. “Toshi,” he murmurs, quiet even when there’s no non-pack around to eavesdrop.
“I’m here,” he whispers too, because maybe it’ll add more comfort. Maybe he can be of help, even if that means just not being a nuisance, a too-loud nuisance. “We were out for a little while,” he assumes so at least. When neither Izuku or Shouto refute his claim, he continues, “it’ll hurt less the sooner you take them.” It won’t be painless, never is when suppressing biology. Cramps and fever and nowhere to put all the heat, all the need . It just burns inside until he’ll bubble over, at the end, emotional and hurt and needing . For what his body won’t be able to decide. The cramps will worsen, body not knowing how to state itself with the drugs running through his veins. At least the suppressants will stifle the over abundance of slick, earning itself a proper not as much of a jerk as you could have been Award.
It’ll hurt, in every sense of the word.
Denki turns the bottle in his hand, almost like he’s reading the label but his eyes are fixed in one spot, distant. Hitoshi wraps his arm around Denki, pulls him to his side. Both in tactile comfort to the nestling but also so he doesn’t see Hitoshi’s face. As impassive as he wants to believe himself, Denki has always been able to see past the brainwasher’s façade. He doesn’t allow himself to scrunch his eyes closed, merely tightens his core as if that will ease his own cramps. He forces his breaths as deep as they’ll go, while still staying silent, still being good.
“Toshi,” Izuku’s voice isn’t quite chiding, but it makes Hitoshi’s eyes snap up all the same. “How can I help?” That gets Denki turning his body, peering up at the other omega. The taller can only blink so much before the wetness in his eyes is impossible to hide. He doesn’t get a chance to answer his alpha before Denki’s hands are on his cheeks, thumbs running back and forth back and forth back and forth under his eyes even when the tears haven’t dripped yet.
Glancing down at the pills now in Denki’s lap, his chest quakes with the need to just cry. Not yet, not yet , he doesn’t allow himself to let out a single sob. “You don’t have to suppress your heat,” the little one reminds him, as if they didn’t already not-argue over this before. Neither do you , he wants to say. He doesn’t.
Izuku is wrapping himself around Hitoshi’s back, providing a solid chest to lean back on. “Neither of you are obligated either way, and you don’t have to make the same decision. Neither of you will be alone through this cycle,” he nuzzles into the nape of Hitoshi’s neck. Scenting the omega while also getting a hold on how off the subtleties of his scent is. Shouto voices his agreement while he backhugs Denki, making an impromptu cuddle pile. (The very best kind)
When the next pang of cramps hit, his eyes clench if only so Denki doesn’t see how easy it is for him to cry right now. His eyes open to find Shouto handing him pain meds and his own water bottle. His scent must have sweetened in gratitude if Denki nosing into his neck is anything to go by. Downing the pills, he offers them to Denki, knowing he’ll need them regardless of the suppressants. Tipping back, the bottle still in his lap jostles.
Picking back up the heat suppressants, he makes no move to actually open the container. “What’s holding you back?” Shouto finally voices. “Do you actually want to take them?”
“No,” the word comes out meek, so wrong wrong wrong from him. “I don’t wanna, but I will.” It’s like he’s trying to force the conviction into his voice, trying to convince himself. Why Shouto asks. “Cuz it’s not fair to do this without them, Kats and Ei, it’s not fair.” He’s the first to break, but Hitoshi isn’t far behind as he pulls Denki flush against him. The smaller omega wraps his legs around Hitoshi’s waist, as much as he can with Izuku still holding from behind. “I can’t without them,” his voice wavers, scent shadowing in burning pain. Harsh and acidic and Hitoshi can’t help when his own scent is bittering.
Hitoshi has to remind himself the fact Denki went through heats without him, in the very very beginning. When it was still Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari against Midoriya and Todoroki, and Shinsou nonexistent in their world. Back when Katsuki was refusing to acknowledge he was definitely making a pack with Eijirou and Denki, when he and Izuku still hadn’t figured out their mess of a friendship relationship. Denki talked about it when he had been trying to offer Hitoshi to court the pack, about how determined Katsuki was to make sure Denki was safe and comfortable and happy. How Eijirou’s instincts were so loud he just knew exactly what to do, when to get meds, when to warm up the heat pack, when to cuddle and when to give him a break. It was nonsexual at the time, but if there’s anything to catalyst the relationship between that trio, it was Denki’s first heat with them. It wasn’t until Izuku and Shouto joined that any ruts were spent out of isolation. In the beginning, the pack bonding was attached to Denki’s heats.
Hitoshi has to remind himself that Denki doesn’t know how to be in heat without his first alpha and first beta. That he hasn’t been through a cycle without Katsuki and Eijirou in years. If at all. He has to remind himself this isn’t about him or the others not being enough. It’s not their presence but the lack of the others forcing Denki’s hand.
Pressing his face into Denki’s hair, sobs wrack his body, syncing with the other omegas own cries. Body’s quaking even as they press together, too warm in the places they connect.
“I’ve never- never done a heat without you,” he doesn’t know what possesses him to admit it. Because this isn’t about him, it’s about Denki. Denki is the one messing with his heat, changing his cycle, not him. He tenses, hoping no one heard him, or at least will give him the kindness of ignoring his admission.
Of course Denki has never been one to consistently and effectively read the room, “wait,” he lifts his head, would have headbutted the taller if he wasn’t already accustomed to his mannerisms. “I’ll still be with you, even if I’m not in heat. We’re still together,” he presses a desperate kiss to his lips, like sealing a promise. His hands intertwine with Hitoshi’s, ready to link pinkies and really confirm his word.
His lips can’t help but drag up, momentarily he wishes there was a word for a sad smile because he knows he sure as hell does not look very happy. It’s indulgent maybe, to kiss Denki’s little button nose and pretend his words are enough.
“Oh Toshi,” Izuku breaths out and Hitoshi doesn’t mean to duck his head down, hide in crook of Denki’s neck. But he knows that voice. He takes a deep breath, surely about to say something that’ll make Hitoshi’s ears red, when he just… doesn’t. He gives a kiss to his nape, tickling the baby hairs in the process, before standing. He quickly shushes the whines he receives, cooing at his little ones. “I'm going to call Kaachan, see where the mission is at. I’ll be right back, okay.” He doesn’t specify further, certainly already formulating a plan of some sorts. He steps out of the nest carefully, making sure not to misalign any fabric, before going past the curtains into the main part of the living room. He can’t go far, not with both omegas well into their pre.
Hitoshi barely has time to lament the loss of warmth before Shouto is pulling both him and Denki to his chest. Hitoshi will forever be grateful that Shouto learned how to master heating his body to the perfect cramp-relieving temperature, soothing the pain with proper cuddles. Only after basking in his warmth for a few long moments does Denki speak again, “I know you haven’t had heat without me, but this isn’t without me.” It’s not the same , he wants to argue. It’s not together, not really. He wants to cry again. I don’t want to do anything without you.
He nods, silent.
Denki doesn’t have to lick his scent glands to know a lie when he smells one. “What’s wrong?” His voice is much too small for Hitoshi to not want to wrap his whole body around him and hug. He settles for a soft kiss. “Toshi,” he full on whined, lip in such a heavy pout he could have reached out and snatched it.
It would have been easy to fib, but it wouldn't have been easy to convince Denki and Shouto that it was the truth. He momentarily ignores the clenching in his belly, “I don’t want to get outta sync.” And that’s true. They both know it is. “I don’t want to-” he doesn’t finish, can’t. Because continuing would mean opening up which would mean being selfish which isn’t okay and he’s not going to do that. Nope, not today.
Shouto, somehow rolling a double in perceptiveness, “if you wanted to suppress and stay in sync with Denki, that wouldn’t make you any less an omega.” Hitoshi would have gotten whiplash if he hadn’t already been living with Shouto so long and became somewhat accustomed to his epiphanies and conspiracies panning out.
Denki’s eyes flicked between Shouto and Hitoshi before he quite literally flung himself at his nestmate, despite the fact that were already embracing. He really should have expected being tackled, in hindsight, and because he didn’t he fell backwards upon impact. Huffing out a small oof upon landing in the pile of fluffy blankets and soft clothes lining the nest, he instinctively wrapped his arms around Denki to brace his fall. The electric user straddled his legs on either side of the omega, keeping him pressed to the nest floor.
Normally Hitoshi would flip them, press the little one under him and show him who’s the more dominant one (as if the absolute embodiment of a subby good boy needs proof), but something about Denki’s glassy yet determined gaze got him to lay still. The blond leaned close, voice almost a growl, “there is absolutely nothing you could do or not so that would make you less of an omega.”
He couldn’t help his endeared smile, “firefly-” but he didn’t get to finish before he was cut off.
“No, no, you don’t get to flirt your way out of this.” Well that wasn’t exactly his plan per se, but he was going to say how cute Denki is when he’s so serious about something. “You wouldn’t say I’m less of an omega for skipping this heat.” It’s not skipped yet, he hasn’t suppressed yet. And they’re not running out of time yet, but they’re getting close to running out of time. “If I’m no less of an omega then there’s no way in hell you’d be less than for skipping heat. You could suppress them forever and you’d still be just as much an omega.”
“I didn’t say that,” his voice didn’t wobble. It- it didn’t .
Denki didn’t relent, couldn’t, “but you’re thinking it, yeah?” The fact Shouto isn’t stepping in, isn’t reprimanding Denki for doing what very well could be considered a challenge to Hitoshi’s place in the hierarchy, must mean he agrees. “You don’t have to go through heat with another omega to be an omega. You don’t have to prove anything.”
But doesn’t he? Because without his continuous intake of hormones he still wouldn’t smell like an omega. He’s still too tall for an ideal omega. He may have had surgery but every time he looks in the mirror and sees his scars he can’t help but go back to before . Before he was passing and before anyone took him for his word and before he could actually look in the mirror without wanting to claw his way out of his body. He should be happy now, his biology is as omegan as Denki’s is, as long as he keeps up with his doses, and he hasn’t been misidentified in who knows how long. (Hitoshi knows, he can vividly describe the last time someone questioned his dynamic)
And he is happy. Most of the time, that is. He has a pack that accepts him and he has a nestmate who adores him. And he can’t help but feel validated every time he goes through heat because way back in the day that was the peak of omeganism, going through one’s cycle. His inner omega just preens at knowing it’s going through what most other omegas do. It’s primal and it’s traditional but he can’t help but feel good about it sometimes. How wrong is it to just want to feel good in his body?
There’s too much to say, too much to explain, to cry about, that instead he just chokes out a simple, “okay.” It’s not enough, and he knows if Izuku was still in the nest he would want more of an explanation. Maybe it’s not fair, it goes against what the pack stands for to keep the hurt to himself. But it’s not as if the others are following that creed ideally. Likely only Katsuki has any idea how at war Izuku must be with himself. None of them could have any idea how Shouto is feeling. Hitoshi should see where Denki is coming from, should understand his motives, but he just can’t .
Whatever Denki sees when he stares into Hitoshi’s eyes, it gets him settling down, no longer pressing the omega into the nest. He cuddles into his chest, nosing at his glands before giving ticklish little kitten licks. Hitoshi traces his fingers up and down his spine, fingers dipping with each bone. Belatedly he yearns to shed their clothes, share proper skinship, but it’s not right yet. Not with the heaviness in the air and the tension still tightening Denki’s shoulders. Shouto finally joins again, from where he had been observing their conversation. It’s only when he reaches a hand out, running his fingers through the smallest omega’s hair before gripping gently, gingerly tilting his head to the side. He coerces Denki’s throat exposed, showing off the long line of his throat to Hitoshi.
Oh . He doesn’t hesitate to latch onto Denki’s neck, pinching his skin between his teeth. God he didn’t even realize how badly he needed to settle, to reestablish his spot in the hierarchy over Denki. As quickly as he nips the pup, he laved his tongue over the small hurt, soothing the skin. He has no doubt it will leave a lovely hickey, much to both of their satisfaction. Denki positivity melts against him, boneless weight over him. He lets out the cutest little whine when Shouto releases his hair, easing his neck into a more comfortable position.
The beta hushes him, cooing all the while he lays down, pressing himself into Hitoshi’s side. Hitoshi nuzzles into Shouto as much as he can with Denki still using him as a full body pillow, pulsing warmth and relief into the richness of his scent. They cuddle until Izuku finally joins, scent immediately blanketing the group, so potent it’s like trees suddenly sprung up in the room. Immediately he claims Hitoshi’s other side, snuggling into both omegas. “I got to talk to them both, Eijirou had an idea something was off.” That really shouldn’t be a surprise with how in tune their beta is with his instincts. “He thinks an early cycle is likely your body’s trying to bring the pack back together.”
Hitoshi let out a hum, “I thought it was just from the stress.”
Pressing a kiss to his hairline, Izuku continues, “probably that too. With everything going on and the pack apart, your omegas need to ensure you have pack to fall back on.” Just the mere thought of not having his pack through… anything, makes his stomach clench painfully. “If you’re in heat it’ll help everyone come together and take care of your needs.”
Denki shook his head, nose rubbing against his nestmates chest, “it didn’ work though. Instincts ‘re wrong,” his voice is slightly slurred from the onslaught on feel good chemicals still burning through his bloodstream from the claiming nip.
A hand squeezing the pup’s nape, both a comfort and mild reprimand, Izuku explains, “the second I said you two are in pre, Kaachan assured me he’d finish the mission before you get to the final stage.”
Wait what. “How? The mission is supposed to be at least until the end of the week.” As strong and capable their mates are there’s no way they can successfully cut a mission several days short, no matter how determined they are. Everyone in the damn country knows the second Katsuki sets his mind to something, there’s no backing down, but that doesn’t make him invincible as much as he wants everyone to think that.
Despite the worry in the air, Izuku chuckles, “Kaachan said, and I quote, ‘ I’ll take those fuckers right now .’ He is fully prepared to do whatever he needs to to come back in time, if that’s what you want.” Yes, fuck yes.
Eyes so wide, “they’re coming?” Denki just has to be sure, the precious boy. Hitoshi just can’t help but kiss his cheek, can’t help but try and press him closer to himself, as if there’s even a hairsbreadth between them in the first place.
Izuku seems to be going on the same train of thought, pressing a sweet kiss to his littlest omega’s lips, “they won’t be here tonight. But we still should have a few days before your actual heat, they’re gonna try their best to be there by then.” That’s more reasonable, to try and cut their mission just a couple days short rather than just running headfirst into whatever dangers await them immediately. Eijirou wouldn’t let them, regardless, he wouldn’t let them fly into danger. “I can’t promise they’ll be here the second your heat starts, but they are coming.” Hitoshi leans his head back, an exhale easing out of his chest. “You are still free to take your suppressants any time, you already know the effects, and it’s still up to you. They’ll support your decision either way.”
“We all will,” Shouto chimes in from the other side, gently caressing any skin he can reach. Hitoshi wants to voice his agreement, show his support, but he doesn’t. His scent doesn’t sour but he doesn’t say a word either.
Denki’s eyes flutter closed, brow furrowed as he takes in his mate’s words. “I dunno,” his admission is barely a whisper. “I still don’t wanna go without them, but if I wait to suppress it’ll just be torture.” It’s not an exaggeration. Suppressants can be taken at any time outside of the actual heat and while they technically will work, it’ll only be more miserable the longer he puts it off. Images invade Hitoshi’s memory, Denki’s face contorted in pain, face somehow too red and too pale as he cries into the wastebasket he threw up in. Hands latched onto the rim like if he lets go he’ll lose his tether on whatever amount of coherency he didn’t puke out already.
Hitoshi has to physically shake his head to try to rid himself of the haunting memories. He doesn’t need to add any more reasons to the list of why he won’t suppress his own heat. He has to remind himself this time isn’t like last time, they won’t need to rush to the hospital. Denki’s body is stronger than it was before, it won’t shut down at two little pills.
Shouto latches onto his arm, pressing his forehead to the side of Hitoshi’s own, a reminder of his own.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Izuku soothes. But it has to be soon. Goes unsaid. None of them say anything after that, too much that needs to be discussed and too little energy to get it all out. They simply bask in each other’s comfort, lazy kisses passed between them. Eventually they all shed their clothes, Hitoshi’s spine losing some of its tension at the comfort skinship brings. His inner omega preens at the closeness, at how right it is to be skin on skin with his mates. It’s hazy, between the routined meds Shouto provides and the settling nips Izuku supplies them with. Hitoshi lets himself drift, mind taking a break from all the emotions humming behind his bones.
Between the crippling cramps, the insistent slick leaking, and the increasing fever, Hitoshi doesn’t have it in him to keep thinking. Belatedly he acknowledges the food Izuku tries feeding him by hand, likely sating his own alphan instincts to provide for his vulnerable mates. Maybe one good think about preheat is the bone deep exhaustion it brings, his normal insomnia practically non existent as his body prepares for the bouts of energy he’ll be thrumming with later in the week.
He drifts, floating between slumber and barely awake, never quite letting himself into coherency when it’s so much easier to just be . Given the amount of pills he’s had to choke down, it’s had to have been days of this. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was borderline scent drunk with the absolute flood of pheromones filling his nose every time he’s close to lucid. When he has come to, Denki seems to be in a similar position, existing in that cosy headspace, allowing their mates to take care of them the way they need. He doesn’t allow himself to think, forces himself back into the void every time he begins to worry over the heat.
He’s pulled back to reality slowly, like drifting back to shore. Lazily and quietly. He opens his mouth, scents so potent he can taste the caramel on his tongue, heavy and rich. Cherries so vibrant they can practically burst behind his teeth, like biting into a ripe berry. “Toshi,” his voice a symphony of love and concern, care and adoration. “Baby, we’re home.”
He hums dopily, a pheromone drunk smile gracing his lips, eyes blearing open drowsily. A large hand wipes the sweat from his brow, hand freezing against his overly hot skin. “Ei,” the sound comes out in a giggle, still high off the last nip he received. He subconsciously notes his beta’s neck, so covered in hickeys he looks like he got mauled. No doubt Izuku and Shouto greeted him well. “Missed you,” he slurs out.
Eijirou chuckles fondly, “I missed you too, puppy. What do you say ‘bout getting a bath, hm?” He playfully scrunches your nose, “Sho said you refused to be up enough to take one for him.” Hitoshi shrugs, only vaguely remembering such an event. “Giving our mates trouble?” He teases as he helps Shouto into a sitting position, scenting him all the way. As if his bright cherry scent isn’t already saturated into Hitoshi’s very skin.
“Always,” he quips back distantly, eyes searching for what he can’t quite place. Only when he spots one of Denki’s skirts peeking out of the nest does his mind come back to coherency. “Denks? Where is he?” It comes out as a keen, distress evident in every note. Now that he’s aware of it, the hollow feeling in his chest only seems to amplify. His inner wolf howling at being away from his nestmate so close to heat. Wait, is Denki even going into heat anymore? Is that why he’s not here?
Large hands cradle his face, “hey, puppy look at me. Denki is okay, everyone’s okay,” he pulls Hitoshi into his lap. “Kats is taking care of Denki, he woke up before you did. They need to talk but as soon we finish your bath we’ll come back here.” He moves his grip to the omega’s thighs, easily lifting him as he stands. Hitoshi instinctually wraps his arms around the beta’s neck, ducking his head down to nuzzle into the exposed throat. He hums appreciatively at the sign of submission, murmuring a “good boy.”
They head to the second closest bathroom to the nest area, Denki and Katsuki presumably occupying the other. He swallows down the lump growing in his throat, “did Denki suppress?” He keeps his face hidden, licking any skin he can reach, trying to relax into the self-soothing gesture. He forces down his shudder at the click of the restroom door.
“He was going to,” Eijirou admits, walking up to the marble counter but not yet placing Hitoshi upon it. “He didn’t though. He waited for Kats and I to come home.” Is it selfish for him to wish he alone had been enough for Denki to decide not to use the suppressants? Eijirou finally places him next to the sink, hushing his small hiss of discomfort of the cold stone against his bare ass. “I’m going to start the bath,” he waits for an acknowledgment before stepping towards the tub. He didn’t even realizing he was imploding until Eijirou was back in front of him, wrapping his arms around his smaller frame. “We’re all going to be together for the heat.”
He nods into the muscular shoulder, “where’re the others?”
Eijirou hums, allowing the not so subtle distraction, the vibrations comforting against Hitoshi’s skin, “Sho and Ku are sleeping, the stubborn bastards refused to rest while we were gone.” Hitoshi kisses against the already prominent hickeys, bringing a pleasant buzz to Eijirou, successfully draining the stress out of his posture.
The omega couldn’t help his snort, “you’ve been spending too much time with Katsuki, you sound like him.”
That got a full belly laugh out of the fake redhead, “you try going on an extended mission alone with him without cussing,” he defended. “The second Zu told us about you two Katsuki shouldn’t shut up about taking down the ‘motherfuckers’ keeping him from his pack,” he smirked. “I’m shocked he hasn’t knotted you two yet, just to make sure you can’t be separated again.”
Eyes bright with incoming energy, “You’re saying you think Kaminari Denki and Bakugou Katsuki can keep their hands off each other alone in the bath?” He couldn’t help his incredulous giggle. “They’ll make your throat look like child’s play.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Point taken,” he pauses for a breath before continuing, “But they did intend to actually talk, Denki had burst into tears the second he smelled us.” Now that’s one way to sober up in one sentence. “Alpha has him, he’ll settle him. Lemme settle you now, huh,” he quickly switches back to doting mate the second Hitoshi’s scent laced with anxiety.
Snuffling a little, “Wait, how'd you get Izuku to sleep?” He had to release Eijirou to go turn off the faucet before the tub could overflow. The beta tossed a purple bath bomb into the water before returning to the omega. Eijirou was already shirtless, no doubt from eager mates greeting him upon his return, but he had to yank off his pants and undergarments before scooping Hitoshi back up. Shouto likely wasn’t exactly happy to take a nap, but he has no doubt Izuku was a down right menace to calm down.
His chest rumbled as he replied, “Katsuki threatened to knot him if he didn’t lay down.” He slowly eased them both into the water, settling Hitoshi between his legs. He leaned back on the beta, nuzzling into his chest before relaxing into the water. The water was pleasantly cool, helping to stave off the worst of his fever.
“Some punishment,” he joked, fingers idly drawing through the layer of purple foam fizzing around him.
Eijirou merely hummed a nonresponse, already running his fingers through Hitoshi’s no doubt sweat damp hair. He let the beta take care of him, knowing there’s no way in hell anyone could get Izuku to rest if one of his mates were hurt or sick or even upset. He didn’t quite go into the cosy headspace he’d been occupying the past few days, but his mind was pleasantly quiet while Eijirou shampooed his hair. Strong hands delicately massaging his scalp, detangling the stubborn locks. Eyes closed he basked in the care his mate provided, only coming back to reality when it was time to get up. As quickly as his bout of energy had came, it was gone, and he too was ready to nap. Given how long he was out, his heat could hit any time. Once it starts there’s no way in hell he’ll get any proper rest any time soon. Not that he’ll want to with so many mates ready to handle his any need and want.
Hair soft from conditioner and body clean, Eijirou only bothered to wrap them both in a towel, hair already starting to floof from the toweling, before carrying him back to the nest. The second they pushed past the curtain, Denki was letting out a wailing sort of call, one that got Hitoshi trying to wiggle out of the beta’s hold to get back to the little one. The second he was placed safely on the nest base, he was crawling over to the nestling, promptly laying on top of him, body finally feeling right right right being skin on skin with his fellow omega. He properly squished Katsuki, who Denki had already been using as a pillow, not that the alpha was complaining given his rumbly rumbly purrs. Hitoshi met his rumbles in tow, purring into the plethora of kisses he placed upon Denki’s red little face. Over each eyelid, on the apples of his cheeks, his Cupid’s bow. Presses adoration into the skin, hopes it seeps into his blood.
Eijirou did not hesitate to join, the four of them making a puppy pile. As soon as Izuku and Shouto awaken it’ll be perfect, complete.
Hitoshi wanted to question Denki’s red eyes, wanted to hear about his heart to heart with the Second. He opened his mouth to do so, but his taste buds sang with the sweetness of a honey happy mate. He instead landed a sloppy kiss on Denki’s cheek, his giggles ringing like music. He giggles like he's never known a reason not to smile. There’d be time to talk after, when his eyes aren’t dropping closed and their bodies aren’t steadily heating up. Once it’s all over, they can talk. For now though, now he cuddles into his mates and lets himself drift.