Archive of Our Own ^beta

Neil was acting shifty. It was no surprise that a runaway would bounce on the balls of his feet, scan for exits, and sit like he expected to bolt at any moment. In spite of Nicky’s best efforts, Neil never managed to fully ditch the deer in headlights look he got whenever someone startled him, was nice to him, or generally remembered he existed. 

Neil’s overall shiftiness was the truest thing about him, observable from the ISS. Anyone with the ability to interact with external stimuli (and therefore, almost everyone alive) would contribute a resounding “well, duh ” to Andrew’s assessment. 

But Neil acting shifty was part of his normal behavior, and, therefore, part of Andrew’s expectations for him. The flag in Andrew’s mind, the thought of that’s wrong , would not appear if Neil’s behavior had not changed. Andrew knew what to look for, knew how to look at Neil after weeks of pretending he wasn’t. The problem was not that Neil was acting shifty in general ; the problem was that Neil was acting shifty for him.

Once Andrew started noticing, he couldn’t stop. It started at the beginning of the week, with Neil returning from a run. 

It was normal for Neil to go running. The very first week Neil joined them was marked in Andrew’s mind with a mixture of delirious hilarity and intense intrigue whenever Neil couldn’t be found. At the time it was funny to think Neil would disappear, that one day he would run and never stop. Andrew had nonsensical daydreams about Neil running around the globe, over and over, and found the idea so funny he laughed at himself. (The thought wasn’t as funny as it used to be. Now it just makes Andrew angry.) 

It was not, however, normal for Neil to run like he wanted his skin to fall off. Andrew had seen it through happenstance. He was on the roof pretending he had feelings, when he caught sight of an auburn blur on the sidewalk. The blur approached the building with rapid intensity, revealing itself to be Neil. His shoes must have untied because Neil stumbled once on his way to the Tower, but he didn’t slow down. When he reached the building he didn’t pause to stretch or cool down, he just threw the door open and sped inside. 

Andrew felt a blur of curiosity, and let it lead him back down the Foxes’ floor. Neil’s door was still shut, and the hallways suspiciously quiet. Andrew had figured that Neil must have been intercepted on his way up and led astray, and turned to go back to the roof when he heard a clash from the stairwell. He poked his head in and looked down to see Neil on the second floor, flat on his face on the stairs. As Andrew suspected, his shoes were untied. 

“What.” He ground out. It was supposed to be a question, but the bewildered irritation he felt at another example of Neil’s stupidity caused the word to come out lifeless. 

Neil rolled over to watch Andrew make his steady approach. 

“I was going to do stairs.” He said, like that explained anything. Andrew supposed that for Neil it probably did. 

“No,” Andrew watched Neil get to his feet.  Andrew did not offer him help, an act that would have felt better if it wasn’t so in character. “Try again.” 

Neil shrugged, leaning from one foot to another, like he couldn’t help it. “I have a lot of energy.” 

The key to lying , Andrew thought to himself, is to tell the truth and nothing else. But Andrew didn’t care enough to call him for it, so he stepped back to let Neil continue his goal of total exhaustion. 

Andrew didn’t leave, though. He just leaned against the wall, and watched Neil go up and down and up again. 

That first incident had sparked a level of intrigue that Andrew couldn’t shake. In hindsight, there had been signs of heightened energy or tension from Neil, spanning back from Monday of last week, and the fact he had missed it made him all the more observant. What else would he miss if he didn’t watch?

Neil had started startling when someone came behind him, an outward jump that had never made an appearance before. He begged off team events, and seemed warier of the crowds in cafeterias and lecture halls. It had been months since he had avoided crowds with Andrew present, but now, even Andrew doesn’t seem to be enough to keep him in public. Neil was less willing to take Kevin’s attitude, snapping back with more veracity (the kind he usually saved for reporters. And Aaron.) and once, memorably, flashing his fangs and snarling. 

Andrew wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed, but he largely doubted it. Weird behavior from Neil was generally par for the course, jumpy attitude and fangs notwithstanding. Kevin seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough, but was generally too single minded to fully have comprehensive thoughts. Andrew himself would doubt any change if he wasn’t watching so hard. There was little to any change in scent from Neil (not that he had much of a scent, anyways) and Neil himself didn’t seem to be aware of these changes, all of which were gradual. 

The thing that tipped the scales in Andrew’s mind from labeling Neil as Neil’s Problem to Deal With  to Our Problem to Deal With was the missing clothes. Neil’s wardrobe had narrowed to essentially what he had been wearing when he first arrived,  the rest of his clothes present, but untouched in his dresser. (Andrew had promised long ago to leave Neil’s shit alone, but Matt made no such promise, and Andrew could be very persuasive. Unfortunately, because it was Matt and not him rifling through those drawers, he had no idea if any clothes were missing.) He wore only baggy clothes, and, if Andrew’s sense of smell told the truth, other people’s socks. Andrew was disgusted with Neil, and with himself for still being attracted to Neil.

The shiftiness, the clothes, and Neil’s sudden runaway energy making a reappearance all spelled out one thing; Neil was preparing to leave. 

Andrew was, to put it lightly, fucking pissed . He had wanted to confront Neil immediately, but a memory had pushed through first. 

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.” Andrew had said. Neil looked gobsmacked in the bar, the statement shocking him enough for Andrew to smell it on him. Andrew was under no impression that anything would happen; Neil didn’t swing. But Andrew did. Maybe he swung too hard in his honesty. Maybe Neil didn’t feel safe, because of him. The prospect made his stomach churn. 

Andrew wished Neil would have been honest. Far too much to expect from someone who has built his entire life on lies, but he mercilessly hated Neil for it anyways. If that coward was going to leave, the least he could do was tell everyone instead of sticking to his current plan of disappearing randomly into the night. Andrew tried to stick it out, and it lasted all of one day. If Neil was going to break his promise, Andrew was going to make him admit it, even if he would let him go. 

(He would. Andrew hated the thought, but he would. If Neil was going because of him, it was the least he could do. Andrew just needed the confirmation. He needed the precise reasons to hate himself for blowing it. He didn’t believe in guilt, and he didn’t believe in regret, but he did believe in honesty.) 

“I know what you’re doing.” Andrew gritted at him. Neil was sitting across from Andrew on a beanbag chair. The team had scattered, and Andrew waited until all German speaking members of the team were out of earshot before confronting Neil. Kevin shot him a look for the language change, but let it slide easily when Andrew glared. 

Neil frowned. “Doing what?” 

Andrew wanted to shake him, or possibly hit him. “Don’t play stupid. We both know you’re not.” 

Neil seemed to find this amusing. He didn’t say anything, but the message was clear. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Andrew didn’t get a chance to continue, because Nicky walked back into the room from the kitchen and parked himself onto the couch, oblivious to the exchange. 

Neil’s eyes stayed on Andrew for a while longer, finally understanding that Andrew was deadly serious. Andrew burned under his gaze, but refused to back down. Andrew knew what that fucker was up to, and Neil had to know that. Neil looked away first, when Matt entered with popcorn. Andrew did not look away the whole night. 

As the night went on, the realization that Andrew knew Neil was about to fly the coop seemed to slowly dawn. He kept sending Andrew furtive glances, rubbing his legs together like he could run sitting down. Andrew let him stew in it. Good. Let him be uncomfortable. 

He went to the roof later that night, expecting a confrontation. Neil followed him up, but did not give him one. Instead he just stood by the door and watched Andrew’s turned back. 

“You could just tell me.” Andrew said after an extended silence. He didn’t look at Neil, keeping his eyes on the ground far below. 

“It doesn’t look like I need to.” Neil responded. Andrew took a deep breath in, trying to get a read on Neil’s scent. Predictably, he did not get one. He turned, hoping that sight would grant him something his nose couldn’t. 

Neil was standing firm. He seemed resigned, and almost… anticipatory, like he was waiting for an outcome that he knew would disappoint him. He looked Andrew dead on, his fists clenched and his jaw soft. A firm stance, a jittery foundation. Neil was a contradiction; Andrew only saw in shades of grey. Andrew turned back around, hating himself for liking the view behind him and not in front of him. 

“I don’t like secrets.” Andrew took a drag of his cigarette. “I especially don’t like yours.” 

“Interesting, since you know so many of them.” Neil had gotten closer. Andrew wordlessly held out his cigarette pack. 

“It wouldn’t be a secret if you told me. Maybe I’d like it better then.” 

Neil let his cigarette burn, going into the trance he always did when he didn’t smoke. He was more still than Andrew had seen him all week. The silence stretched again. 

“I have…” Neil started, before he paused. Andrew turned to look at him again. In a rare act of bravery (a trait in Neil that was becoming more and more prevalent) Neil stood his ground. “I have a proposal. It’s not a deal. Not unless it needs to be.” 

Andrew gestured at him to continue, intrigued in spite of himself. Nothing good could come from this. Andrew delt in promises, every action transactional and calculated. An open ended deal was new territory. An open ended deal was dangerous. 

“Be with me.” Neil blurted like he couldn’t contain the words. “I want you with me when I—when I’m— I want you there.” 

This took Andrew by surprise, and based on the small huff from Neil, it was enough to send a spike in his scent. His control was not like it once was, and it drove him nuts. He wrangled it back under control, determined not to lose the upper hand. Andrew hated the fact that he could never get a proper read on Neil; the idea that Neil was now able to read him so openly made him want to add a hole to his drywall. 

When Andrew thought about Neil leaving, he thought about all the things he did wrong. He thought about words spoken over the rim of a whiskey glass, and the change his scent had since he went off his meds. His interest was more obvious, blaring neon for someone with a nose like Neil’s. Andrew didn’t consider an outcome that wasn’t his fault; Neil seemed to trust him so completely, having held still for so long (through Drake, through the nest, through international sensation and exy star Kevin Day) that he figured it would have taken something unique to drive him away. 

But Neil wasn’t leaving because of him. Andrew wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. 

Then the request fully caught up with him. 

Neil wanted him to go with him? Neil wanted them to leave together? 

Andrew couldn’t deny the thrill that went up his spine at that thought. 

But Neil understood Andrew better than anyone. He should understand not to ask. Andrew doesn’t break promises, and all his promises were in the dorms underneath their feet. Not for the first time, Andrew wanted to break something; for the first time, it was a promise. He wouldn’t, though. He didn’t know how to. 

He took another drag of his cigarette. Neil accepted his silence, his shoulders dropping. Andrew recalled how he looked by the door, and hated to be living up to Neil’s disappointment. It felt too much like being predictable. Still, Neil waited for a verbal confirmation. Andrew hated him for that. He hated this whole damn thing. 

Andrew considered saying many things, most of them cruel. 

“We both know I can’t.” Andrew settled on. He flicked ash off the side of the roof. “We both know I’m not going to.” 

Neil took this plainly. 

“I know better.” Though Neil did not apologize directly, his statement sounded close enough to one to piss Andrew off further. 

“Hope isn’t a good look on you.” Andrew agreed. He was lying of course, but Neil didn’t have to know that. “When?” 

Neil’s cigarette had burned all the way down. His mouth made a thin line. “Tomorrow. Probably in the morning.”  

“Does anyone else know?”

“I don’t think so. I was being pretty sneaky.”

“Not enough.”

“Cearly.” Neil looked exasperated. He looked tired, and absolutely done with the whole conversation. Andrew could relate.

Andrew figured that he had more time. Rather, he had hoped he’d have more time. He didn’t want to say goodbye, but he would have appreciated the time to prepare. He snubbed out his cigarette, nodded to Neil, and turned to go back inside. 

“Can I have your sweatshirt? For-when-for when it happens.” Andrew had never heard Neil so awkward. He guessed that running from people who considered him family made Neil sheepish. Andrew paused anyway. 

“Why?” Andrew doubted Neil had asked Matt or Nicky for clothing. But then, he also didn’t ask them to run away with him. 

“I like the way you smell. It’s safe. Steady.” Neil blushed faintly, but soldiered on. “I want your scent nearby.”

An image came to Andrew, unbidden; Neil in his sweatshirt. He was wearing his little running shorts, and the sweatshirt hung over the hems. Neil was taller than Andrew, but Andrew was bulkier; the difference left just enough sleeve for sweater paws. Their scents would be mixed on the fabric, and if Andrew ever got it back he would finally be able to pinpoint Neil’s scent. Then, he could scent it himself and give it right back to Neil. The fabric would eventually become theirs . Andrew wanted him in his clothes immediately and all the time. 

But Neil wouldn’t give it back when his scent wore off the fabric. The image became marred by the surroundings of nondescript hotels and gas stations. His sweatshirt would become a momento, a reminder of the time Neil had people. Neil would likely not have people when he leaves. Andrew refused to be another thing Neil lost. 

“No.” Andrew decided. “Not if I’m not getting it back.” 

Neil rocked on the balls of his heels. “That’s fair.” 

“Nothing’s fair.” Andrew opened the door to walk to his dorm, mentally preparing himself for waking up to a Neil-less existence. “Have a nice life.” 

Andrew went to bed and slept as poorly as to be expected. 

What was rather unexpected was the last time he had woken up. It was morning, and Kevin’s chainsaw snores indicated it was still early. The room was dark enough to be shadowed, but not so dark that Andrew couldn’t see. The noise that woke him wasn’t loud enough to make him violent, but was close enough to make him wary. 

There was someone rummaging through Andrew’s pile of dirty clothes at the foot of his bed, violently throwing pieces to the side, apparently looking for a specific article. (Many people expected Andrew to be neat and tidy. Many people overestimated Andrew’s ability to care about chores. Many people also didn’t realize the relish that came with enough space to dirty, to leave evidence of self in.) 

Andrew’s first thought was genuinely a messed up and missed panty raid. He wondered vaguely if he should direct the perpetrator to the girls’ room across the hall before he dismissed the thought as stupid. The person clearly knew where they were, and the rate that they were throwing jockstraps proved they weren’t a perve. 

They smelt… familiar. In between Kevin’s obnoxious natural cologne and Aaron’s slightly bitter scent, there was a new smell. It was like the salt of the ocean, with a darker undertone. Andrew could have sworn he had smelt it before. The scent was obviously distressed, and rose a note each time an article of clothing wasn’t up to snuff. 

“Hey,” Andrew finally said, making his way out of bed apparently at the same time that the person found what they were looking for.

 Neil straightened up from his crouch, hair blazing in the dim light, gripping Andrew’s sweatshirt. He looked caught but not guilty. Andrew was immediately, uniquely and intensely enraged. Andrew smiled for the first time since rehab, and Neil audibly gulped. He vaguely heard Aaron waking up, responding to the sheer amount of rage Andrew’s scent was giving off. Kevin continued to make lawn mower noises. 

“What do you have there, Neil?” Andrew grinned at him. He felt his fists clench. His world was narrowed to Neil–his stupid blue eyes, his stupid auburn hair, and the stupid scent of the sea. He took a single step forwards, his body taunted with the threat of violence.  

Neil made a mad dash for the door. Andrew, operating  completely on instinct, ran after him. 

“Andrew, what-“ Aaron yelled, but Andrew wasn’t listening. “Holy fuck is that Neil ?” 

They burst through the living room and kitchen, where Nicky was making himself breakfast for his early morning class.

 “What the fuck?!” He screeched when they went bursting by. 

Neil was much faster than he was, but did not have the motivation Andrew did. Andrew knew he would catch up with little problem.

How dare he? Neil had said he would be gone in the morning, and yet the morning was here and so was Neil. He had asked Andrew for a part of himself, and Andrew said no, but here he was anyway. Andrew had thought he would let Neil go, and here he was chasing him down. Neil made Andrew feel more than anything; he should have left when he got the chance. There was no way Andrew would let him go, now that he knew it wasn’t his fault. If Neil couldn’t figure out how to uphold his end of the bargain, Andrew would have to help him. 

When Andrew caught him, he tackled Neil to the floor. Neil made a wheezy, whiney noise, and tried to crawl away. Andrew pinned Neil to the ground using as little contact as possible, flattening him on his stomach. He wrenched the sweatshirt from Neil’s grasp, causing Neil to let out another noise. 

“I thought I said no.” Andrew snarled. He resisted the urge to dig his knee into Neil’s back. 

Neil was panting. “You said not if you wouldn’t get it back. I was going to give it back.” 

That gave Andrew pause, just enough to loosen his grip for a moment. Neil took the opportunity to scramble out from under him. Andrew noticed then that they were in the basement of the Tower. There were no exits in the basement, the primary reason Andrew didn’t visit it. There was only the laundry room and a closet of rarely-used chemicals. 

Andrew sat back on his knees. Not exactly the best place to make a daring escape. Neil watched him warily, as though he expected Andrew to tackle him again. 

“Explain.” Andrew demanded. 

Neil didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He titled his head, a scent of confusion wafting gently from him. It was the same salty scent from his bedroom, and Andrew wanted to make a candle of it. Neil didn’t usually smell so strong, so it was a pleasant surprise to be able to scent him so openly. Andrew had wished many times before to be able to get a read on Neil, and now his emotions were obvious. They ebbed gently from him, the changes subtle enough to not overwhelm Andrew’s senses, but blatant enough for Andrew to catch. Amusement, confusion, frustration, and something else Andrew couldn’t place. All flowed from Neil like the tide. 

Neil kept his scent so well hidden it was like he was on suppressants. He wasn’t, because he didn’t trust anybody to give him any sort of medication. Instead, he kept his scent close to his neck, barely discernible even to Andrew. (Andrew learned the hard way how important it was to scent well; he knows Neil learned the same lesson.) His control was impeccable, and nothing, not confrontations from Riko, Drake, or international sensation and exy star Kevin Day was enough to shake an emotional scent from him. Andrew had only managed to catch trail ends of Neil’s thoughts, from his clothes and sweat. So why was he letting Andrew smell him now? Why was he losing control?

It hit Andrew on the head. 

Oh yeah , Andrew remembered with blinding clarity and feeling like a fool, Neil is an omega. 

It’s not that Andrew forgot, exactly. It was impossible for Andrew to forget anything, let alone Neil’s status. The fact that Neil was an omega had just become like the rest of the facts about him; hidden, potentially not true, and placed on the backburner in favor of the trouble he brought and the words his mouth said. 

Honestly, Neil’s status was the least interesting thing about him. Andrew couldn’t be bothered to care in the wake of everything else. 

But now, with Neil’s scent flowing freely from his neck, amplified to a degree Andrew had never smelled before, it became an important fact. Perhaps the most important fact about Neil, ever. Andrew liked to believe that society was beyond reverting to base instincts (those who believed otherwise were conservative idiots), but he couldn’t deny the appeal that Neil held as an omega. It had nothing to do with the way his body filled now he was gaining weight, nor any dumb ideas about making him submit—it was something to do with Neil. Neil being an omega was like a drug for Andrew because it was Neil. And Neil smelt so good in a way Andrew had never smelled on him before, a concoction that could be no one else's. Andrew had a fleeting and nonsensical thought about floating in the air like a cartoon character. 

“You’re in heat.” Andrew said, more for himself than for confirmation.

Andrew looked back on the week with a new understanding. Finally there were explanations for behaviors he couldn’t explain, that didn’t fit with the rest of the profile he drew of a runaway. It did not make sense for Neil to start wearing other people’s socks if he was going to run away. But if he was in preheat and craving safe smells…

All of the clues were there, and he would have put it all together sooner if he hadn’t been so busy being angry at Neil. 

“Yeah.” Neil’s scent sent out a spike of amusement in the waves of confusion. “Which you know.”

Andrew did not say anything to this, and focused on staying very still. He would not lie to Neil, but he would hope that Neil would ignore him. He knew it was futile. Neil tilted his head. 

“Wait.” He slowly began to grin. His scent became lighter with amusement. Andrew didn’t know how, but it smelt like laughter. Andrew sighed internally. 

“Nope.” Andrew admitted. He gripped his sweatshirt tighter. 

“I guess I was being sneaky, then.” Neil’s face couldn’t contain his grin. His tattoo was bunching near his eye, and his scent was rid of any anxiety. It was breezy, and light, bright like a summer sky. Andrew wanted Neil to smell like that all the time, even if it was at his expense. “What did you think was happening? Preheat is sort of hard to miss.”

Andrew didn’t want to say any of what he was thinking; you’re so cagey and weird that of course I would have missed it; I thought you were leaving and I was too distracted by how angry I was at you to pay attention; you smell so good I want to eat you. 

He settled for the truth, loath as he was to say it out loud. “I thought you were preparing to run.” 

Neil’s scent dropped and Andrew wanted to stab himself. 

“I don’t break things.” Neil responded, no longer smiling. Andrew raised an eyebrow. He could list a substantial amount of things Neil broke.  

“Not your things, anyways.” He muttered. 

“I know.” Andrew didn’t look away. “That’s why I didn’t notice.” 

Neil pursed his lips, but nodded, dropping the accusation. There was no resentment, and no misunderstanding between them. Just the truth and its consequences. 

“Can I have it back?” Neil asked. “Now that you know. I will be giving it back to you.” 

He glanced at the sweatshirt in Andrew’s grasp. The idea of Neil in his clothes was just as thrilling as it was the first time, but now carried the additional bonus of Neil staying and Neil’s heat scent. The image of Neil in his sweatshirt, wrapped in a nest of soft blankets, snuggled in for comfort, asking Andrew for that comfort sent a lightning strike directly into his brain. The opportunity to protect Neil at his most vulnerable, and the idea that Neil would want Andrew there became as attractive as Neil himself. Andrew hoped against anything that, now that he knew, Neil would ask him if he wanted to see his nest. 

And then another thought hit Andrew. 

It was like the sky had opened up, and a beam of light penetrated his skull; Neil, nervous and squeamish, two things he was not usually, staring him down but not directly stating what he wanted. The words that came from Neil’s mouth on the roof pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. 

Be with me and I want you there and I like your scent . A multitude of verbal consent that went directly over Andrew’s head, all while he was sane enough to ask for it. Andrew recalled the way that the words had fallen from Neil’s lips, like he had been sitting on them for days, like he couldn’t get them out of his head fast enough. 

“You wanted me there for your heat.” Andrew said with a new clarity. “You invited me.” 

Neil shrugged a little sheepishly, but did not back down. “I did. And you said no.” 

It was suddenly vital that Neil be made aware of this misunderstanding. Andrew wasn’t aware he could feel so much urgency. Andrew did not want anything, and that rule remained; no, Andrew needed to be there for Neil during his heat. Andrew needed to see his nest, and smell his scent, and growl faintly at the door whenever someone got too close. Neil wanted a person to keep him safe, and Andrew needed that person to be him. 

“I thought you were running away.” Andrew reminded Neil, staring him down with an intensity he’s sure was unnerving. 

“Yeah. But I’m not.” 

“No. ”

There was a beat of silence as Andrew waited for Neil to get it. He didn’t. 

“...Yeah.”

“So I didn’t say no .”

Neil tilted his head. (With all this head tilting, Andrew was beginning to wonder if Neil really was a fox.)

Andrew was going to throttle Neil. He was going to actually murder Neil in this basement. Or possibly himself, because he couldn’t seem to make himself grit his teeth and tell Neil what he was thinking. Why, oh why, couldn’t Andrew’s trauma made him eloquent? Verbose? Blunt, even? Instead it just made him both cagey and honest, which, in this exact scenario, was making it hell to be alive. 

Perhaps , Andrew thought, the pheromones are making me crazy.

(It probably wasn’t the pheromones. It was probably just Neil.)

“Think, Neil.” Andrew demanded in a final ditch effort to remain as cagey as he pleased. 

Understanding seemed to slowly dawn on Neil, his scent tentatively reaching out again, becoming a little lighter with a faint amusement. He smiled a little bit. 

“But you didn’t say yes.” 

Andrew didn’t sigh, but it was a near thing. “Yes.”

“Can I have the sweater back now?”

Andrew briefly considered saying something suave and cool like you’ve got the real thing , but ultimately decided that whatever he would say would be neither cool nor suave, and passed the sweater over silently. Neil snatched it as soon as Andrew held it out, wiggling in place with excitement. The smile on his face had grown to a full on grin. He didn’t pull it on as Andrew had hoped, but instead drew it into himself, clutching like he expected it to be taken away from him. Neil had likely intended to put it in his nest, rather than wear it. 

It occurred to Andrew that of all the behaviors he observed, he never once saw Neil steal clothes. Nicky would have never shut up if Neil asked for any, and it was unlikely that any stolen clothes would go unnoticed by all the Foxes. Andrew himself had been watching obsessively, and would have definitely noticed. It was clear that Neil had wanted the Foxes’ scents, if his gross sock habits were any evidence. Andrew furrowed his brow. He really hoped he was wrong about the prediction taking form. 

“Where is it?”

Neil stopped wiggling. “Where is what?”

Andrew stared at Neil, once again willing information to be beamed into his empty skull. Miraculously, Neil once again reached a conclusion that no other person would be able to, based on scant evidence and whatever scent he could pick up from Andrew. (Andrew usually hated how well Neil could read him. Today, though, in avoiding embarrassment, it proved invaluable.)

Instead of answering, Neil stood and led Andrew to the custodian’s closet and threw open the door. Andrew pushed down a brief flash of rage at the thought of Neil going through his heat alone in an uncomfortably small and smelly closet, where anyone could find him. Neil stood to the side of the doorway and stared Andrew down. 

Neil’s defiance didn’t make sense until Andrew stepped into the room to look at his nest. Then, the rage that Andrew had suppressed just a moment before came erupting out. 

Neil’s nest was, in a word, small. In a different and more accurate word, it was pathetic. Proving Andrew’s suspicions correct (what a burden it was being correct all the time), Neil had not been stealing clothes, or blankets, or towels. Unfortunately for Andrew’s psyche, the socks Neil had been wearing all week was apparently the only thing he had been taking. 

Neil’s nest was a pile of socks on the floor, in the very back corner of the dimly lit closet. He had managed to snag what looked like twelve different pairs of socks. Apparently for defense, Neil had rearranged the chemicals in the closet to form a wall between him and the door, the strong scent of them overpowering the small pile of socks. There was no sign of comfort, just the tile. Neil was planning on just laying on the floor and waiting it out.

When Andrew imagined Neil going through a heat—a mirage Andrew did not think about at all before that day—he imagined Neil cozy. In his mind’s eye, there was a swath of blankets and pillows, all soft surfaces with high thread counts. Neil would be spread out, pleased and purring up a storm, underneath blankets that Andrew tucked him into. Andrew would get him water, and to get Neil to drink he would have to bribe him out with fruit which he would feed to Neil with his hands, and then Neil would demand that they snuggle, and Andrew would tuck his face right into Neil’s neck, and….

The point was that in any universe, real or not, Neil deserved a space free from concrete and Windex. 

It wasn’t hard to guess why Neil had this little setup. The nest was small enough to hide or pack up easily, scant enough to go unnoticed by the sock’s owners, and hidden enough that a person would have to be actively looking for Neil to find him. No one would be able to smell Neil from beyond his Iron Wall of bleach, even at the height of his heat. 

Andrew didn’t know exactly what Neil’s relationship to his parents were, but he imagined that they had a substantial amount to do with this. A life on the run with the scars Neil hid so well painted a picture alongside the pile of socks in the corner. Andrew wanted to hunt down every single person that had ever made Neil feel scared enough to have his heat alone in a basement, with no one but Matt’s gym socks for company. 

And, like a double edged sword, Andrew found himself proud of Neil for being able to live. This was a mark of survival, a scar that Neil was willing to rip the bandaid off of to show him. And it was, for a lack of a better word, cute . It was small and pragmatic and painfully Neil, all things Andrew was finding himself less and less able to dislike. Andrew was torn in two directions, both of which made him angry. 

Neil let out a whine from the doorway. It was strangled and quiet, as though he was trying to prevent it from coming out in the first place. Andrew realized belatedly that his rage was wafting off of him, noticeable enough that he could smell it himself. 

“Stop it.” Andrew commanded, even angrier. Neil had nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn’t his fault that, apparently, he had been made to feel so bad about being an omega that he would do self-induced chemical warfare about it. It wasn’t his fault that Andrew couldn’t handle Neil at his Neil-est. 

Neil’s own scent spiked with frustration. “It’s not my fault.”

As though Andrew didn’t know. As though Andrew wasn’t aware that this little nest was the result of instincts Neil couldn’t suppress. As though Andrew wasn’t acutely aware of a body’s betrayal, and the scrambling that occurred in the aftermath of someone taking advantage of that. 

Had someone taken advantage of that? Of Neil? Was there another reason his scent was so weak?

Andrew thought he was going to fly off the handle, when Neil, as always, surprised him. 

“If you hate it so much, leave.”

Leave? Like Andrew could ever. After he’d seen Neil’s pathetic little nest, he didn’t think he could ever leave Neil to take care of himself ever again. Neil had some big gestures in his future, that was for sure. 

“I don’t hate it.” Andrew gritted out. He was fully aware that he did not smell like he was telling the truth. Part of the problem, though, was that he wasn’t lying. He hated that Neil felt like he had to create a weak Fort Knox of a nest, but was needlessly charmed by it anyways. 

Fuck Neil. Fuck Neil and his stupid little nest. Andrew was going to fix it. 

“You don’t need to be down here.”

“You don’t need to be down here.” Neil shot back immediately. “You clearly don’t like it.”

“Do you?” Andrew turned to face Neil, who was flushed. 

“What?”

“Do you like it down here?”

“Does that matter?” 

Andrew took a step forward to stare Neil down. (Or, rather, to stare Neil up .)

“No. I don’t like it down here.” Neil said when he lost the staring contest. 

“I’m moving this.” Andrew told him. When Neil didn’t respond, Andrew took it as permission. He turned and leaned down to start gathering Neil’s nest for relocation, when Neil let out another strangled whine. Andrew paused, turning his head to flick up an eyebrow. 

Neil’s flush had reached his ears. He cleared his throat in a totally not suspicious or squeaky manner. 

“I’ll do it.” He said, ignoring the noise he let out. Andrew wished he wouldn’t. He wished Neil would make more of them, preferably directly into his ear, preferably a little louder. Neil approached the nest, ignoring the wall of chemicals to grab it. He piled the socks into Andrew’s sweatshirt, like a kangaroo. Andrew was torn between being endeared and being disgusted at athlete socks in his clothes. 

Andrew led the way to the elevators, weighing the pros and cons of kicking Kevin and Aaron out of their room or going to Abby’s or Bee’s. It was far too late to check out a private heat room, and Neil was far enough into his heat that they wouldn’t be able to fill out any paperwork for Andrew to stay with him.

Although, perhaps checking Neil into a heat room would be the better idea. Heats did not necessarily mean sex, nor did it mean that all omegas would feel the intense need equally, but Andrew didn’t fully know what Neil wanted from this heat or how it would affect him. A safe room with safe toys and Andrew’s care in the background might be the best option. 

“Do you want me to leave you in a heat room?” Andrew asked Neil once the elevator doors closed. He was passively amazed that he ran all the way to the basement, instead of taking the elevator down like a normal person. Desperate times and all that. 

“I’m sorry,” Neil responded, for some fucking reason. Andrew was usually able to understand Neil’s leaps in logic, but found himself at a loss. 

“I don’t like apologies.” Andrew said for lack of anything else, and because it was true. 

“It’s just…” Neil hugged his nest closer to himself. “I know I’m bad at–at all of this. Being an omega. I have a shitty nest, and a shitty smell, and I have weird heats. I know I’m not normal about any of it.”

Andrew slammed his finger into the emergency stop before he was fully aware of what he was doing. The rage that had never fully petered out rose again. He grabbed Neil’s collar and yanked down so they were eye level. 

“I am going to say this once and only once.” Andrew started low and dangerous. “I do not care what you do or how you do it. I do not care whatever reason in your past has caused you to be this way. But you asked me to be there for your heat, and I said yes. I will do whatever that means. If it means you want something you cannot say yes to, I will be there outside a door.”

Andrew let that sink in for a moment, looking deep into the blue of Neil’s eyes. When he let go Neil didn’t straighten right away. 

“No,” he said and hugged his nest tighter. “No, I don't want a heat room.”

A tangle unfurled in Andrew’s chest, and for the first time since he woke up he felt his anger lessen. 

In the end, Andrew settled on kicking Kevin out of their room. He didn’t like the idea of going to Abby’s, and he knew that Neil would immediately veto Bee’s. The image of Neil on his bed, surrounded by his clothes, getting that ocean scent into his sheets was a pretty big bonus. 

“Weird heats.” Andrew’s brain returned to Neil’s admittance. Andrew had never had a heat before, and he had only ever helped other foster kids through doors and hospital trips. He didn’t have a frame of reference on a “normal” heat; in his own opinion, for all it counted, there was no such thing. People were different with different needs, and, therefore, heats were different. The only places a “normal” heat took place was porn and pulp novels.

“Mine don’t happen how they’re supposed to.” Neil recognized the statement for the question it was. “I don’t get… I’ve never been-”

“Horny.” Andrew completed the thought. He found it amusing how unable Neil–usually so blunt—was able to talk about his heats. He hoped Neil would be better able to communicate in the future, but treasured the rare awkwardness in the present. It was either faint amusement or blind rage at whomever made Neil so cagey about his body.

“Yeah.” Neil clutched his bundle to his stomach. “I ache, but I don’t get desperate. It just hurts. I know that’s not normal.”

“There’s no such thing as normal.” Andrew said at the same time the elevator doors opened. Andrew caught the briefest spikes in scent behind him, but he was at the dorm door before he could process what it was. 

“B-What?” Kevin had spluttered once Andrew had, without saying anything, removed a week’s worth of clothes from Kevin’s and Nicky’s closets and dumped them onto the ground outside. Aaron had picked up on what was happening pretty quick, and had already efficiently packed and was waiting in the living room. 

“Find somewhere else.” Andrew responded. He ushered Neil into the room and stood in the doorway. Neil’s amused scent curled after him like a beacon. “A week. Maybe. Tell Nicky before he gets home.”

“Why?” Kevin Day, international sensation and exy star, whined. “What could possibly take a week in our dorm?”

Andrew stared at him. Kevin really didn’t have thoughts, did he. 

“Neil’s in heat, dumbass.” Aaron said from where he was leaning on the back of the couch. “Or did you not smell him this morning?”

“Oh.” Kevin said. “You owe me practice.” 

And then he left, the door gaping open behind him.

Aaron didn’t leave, and didn't close the door Kevin left in his wake. He just stayed where he was on his phone. Andrew considered going into his room, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to relax until everyone was gone. Instead, he stood in the hallway, watching Aaron finish whatever he was typing. 

“I am staying with my girlfriend.” Aaron looked Andrew dead in the eye. “Katelyn.”

Andrew snarled, but Aaron stood his ground. Andrew took a step forward, to no avail. 

“No,” Aaron took a step towards Andrew, and Andrew felt his metaphorical hair stand on end. “If you get Neil, I get Katelyn.”

Andrew opened his mouth to insist it wasn’t like that, but Aaron cut him off. 

“Give him up. Give him up and I’ll give her up.”

Andrew snapped his mouth shut. He glared at Aaron, and crossed his arms. He could feel his fangs elongate. But Aaron had him in a corner. Aaron smiled, and it was mean. He knew the position Andrew was in, and reveled in it. 

“New deal.” Aaron challenged. Andrew gave no indication that he was listening. “She hurts me, blaise faire short of murder.”

“And you get her?” Andrew mocked. 

“No.” Aaron’s smile became meaner. “I get the same.”

Andrew wasn’t expecting that, and wasn’t sure what to do with it. The idea of anyone’s protection over him settled over his skin uncomfortably, but he liked the idea of full permission to do whatever if the cheerleader hurts Aaron. He did not like the idea of anyone doing the same to Neil. Decisions, decisions. 

“Andrew?” Neil called from the bedroom. Andrew instinctively turned toward his voice before forcibly turning himself back towards Aaron. Aaron’s scent turned satisfied. 

“He’ll be back!” Aaron answered for him. Andrew lamented the fact that everyone around him was, apparently, immune to his carefully curated scowls. Andrew ran his tongue over his fangs, making sure that Aaron could see them. “I was just leaving.”

“I didn’t agree.” Andrew pointed out. 

“Sure,” Aaron deadpanned. He pointed at Andrew, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t fuck this up.” 

Then he swept from the room with his rolling suitcase and closed the door behind him. 

“Andrew?” Neil called again, this time padding down the hallway. Andrew allowed himself to turn fully. Neil had changed into a pair of fuzzy socks that Andrew recognized as Allison’s. He stood apprehensively, looking at Andrew through his lashes. 

They stood, staring at each other. Neil’s scent was thickening the air between them, driving Andrew a little crazy. Generally, for Andrew, there were two emotions; fear and anger. It made sense because those were the two survival emotions, and Andrew hadn’t ever exited survival mode. But now, with Neil, there was a third emotion. Want. Unlike any other want before. It wasn’t just physical, and it didn’t just reside in his body like attraction usually did. No, this want was consuming and confounding and made him want to do embarrassing things like give Neil expensive gifts and gentle blowjobs. He hated Neil for it. 

In a huff, he walked past Neil into the bedroom without saying anything. Neil followed just as silently. 

In the time it took for Andrew to posture and kick everyone out of the dorm, Neil had been busy building a nest. Well, sort of a nest. What Neil had actually done was set all his socks on the floor in a little pile like he had in the basement. But this time, with the sweatshirt, it seemed like he had made bedding as well. The nest was next to Andrew’s bed, almost underneath it, cramped by the desk. It was compact, and defensive, and marginally better than before in its lack of chemicals. 

Neil, at the very least, didn’t smell like he had in the basement. He seemed more settled and content, happy that he was allowed to place his socks on the floor next to Andrew’s bed. Andrew wanted to punch him. 

He grabbed the sock pile and sweatshirt, ignoring Neil’s small growl at having his nest disturbed, and tossed them quickly onto his unmade bed. Andrew wasn’t about to fuck with an omega’s nest without permission. He liked his face unmauled. Neil’s growl immediately cut itself off. 

“Are you sure?” He glanced at the bed, then at Andrew, then at the bed. 

“I don’t do things I don’t want to.” Andrew responded. 

Neil sat down on the bed, gingerly at first, clearly waiting for the offer to be rescinded, before giving into temptation. He essentially collapsed into Andrew’s pillows, wiggling happily like he did with Andrew’s sweatshirt. Neil maneuvered the socks around in a pattern and position Andrew couldn’t discern, and when he was finished, heaved a sigh of contentment. He looked more relaxed than Andrew had ever seen him, and his scent was a sparkling joy that matched. 

But he was not purring. Andrew wondered what it would take to elicit that noise. He decided it would be his mission. 

“Do you want more?” He asked. Neil didn’t respond for a moment, in his own little world of bedding and socks, before blinking up at Andrew. His hair was already mussed, even though it had only been a few moments since he collapsed into Andrew’s bed. 

“For your nest.” Andrew clarified. “Do you want more?” 

Neil sat up, eyes sparkling and scent a little wary. “Is that okay?” 

Andrew didn’t dignify that with reassurance. He just stood there looking down at Neil. 

“Yeah,” Neil answered, face becoming more red. “I do.” 

“What do you want?” 

Neil shrugged, not making eye contact. Andrew waited a beat for Neil to speak up, but that seemed to be the extent of his response. 

“Neil.” Andrew put his hand in Neil’s line of vision to make him look at him. “I can’t get anything if you don’t tell me what you want.” 

“I’m s-“ Neil cut off his apology at Andrew’s sharpened scent. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’m not good at… any of this.” 

“I don’t care.” And it was true. Andrew didn’t care that Neil was bad at this. What mattered was what Andrew could do. Neil smiled a little at Andrew for that response. 

“Of course.” 

“Tell me.” Andrew demanded. And Neil did. 

He wanted one of Dan’s tank tops and Matt’s blue pillowcase (the color was vitally important, apparently), a jersey from Kevin, Allison’s second favorite bathrobe, and Nicky’s crocheted blanket. Surprisingly, he wanted a shirt from Aaron. Unsurprisingly he asked for nothing from Abby, Bee or Wymack. When Andrew pressed about anything from Renee, Neil simply requested whatever she was comfortable with. When Andrew pressed again, Neil requested something small but soft. 

“And me?” Andrew asked, already dreading getting Matt’s pillowcase without a fight. “Do you want anything else from me?” 

“What would you give me?” Neil asked. 

Andrew briefly considered just gesturing to everything on his side of the room. 

“Take what you want.” Andrew started towards the door. 

“Really?” Neil sounded neutral, but he smelled excited. Andrew wanted to scoff at the question. As if this wasn’t mostly Andrew’s wish fulfillment. As though having Neil in his bed, surrounded by his bedding, sifting through his clothes to create a place of comfort wasn’t the most appealing daydream Andrew could ever have. 

“I don’t know what part of ‘I don’t care’ isn’t sinking in,” Andrew said, turning from the door. “But I don’t care.” 

Neil started his little wiggles again. “Can I wear them?” 

Andrew glared. His scent, however, betrayed him. 

Neil’s eyes widened at the reaction Andrew was having, a full smile joining his celebration. “Is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Neil.” Andrew gritted out. “It’s a yes.” 

Andrew turned and left the room before anything else embarrassing could happen. 

Matt’s blue pillowcase turned out to be easy for Andrew to get. Kevin’s sudden appearance required an explanation, which, luckily for Andrew, happened before his arrival. When he entered the room, the whole team was there, save Aaron, and there was a pile of donations in the center of the room, including Neil's requested items from Matt and Dan. Allison gave in two pairs of pajama bottoms—a pair of shorts and patterned pants—but required some bargaining before she turned over her second favorite bathrobe. But, in return for creative control over Neil’s hair for the duration of one haircut and a year’s worth of banquets and other formal events, eventually relented. Aaron had, irritatingly, left a shirt behind with Matt ‘just in case’ and Renee handed over a pair of knee pads with no hesitation. 

Nicky, who had gotten the memo from Aaron because Kevin was useless, was in full panic mode. He was pacing excitedly, and asked Andrew several times if there was “-anything I can do? Really, anything? Is this Neil’s first heat? I know how much that sucks. Did we know Neil was an omega? I feel like I didn’t know that. Does he need anything? Anything at-“ and only shut up once Andrew let him pile on fruit from Neil’s own kitchen. Nicky triple checked with Andrew that Neil was comfortable, and gave him full access to his closet, bedding, and “anything else, anything at all.” 

The person Andrew had the most problem with was, unsurprisingly, Kevin, who staunchly refused to give anything. 

“It’s gross.” Kevin said with a wrinkled nose. “I don’t want his horny fluid on anything.” 

Nicky loudly gasped, and Matt whacked him on the back of the head. Andrew, for once, decided to let it go and pretended he didn’t see it. Renee noticed and gave him a soft smile, which Andrew resented. 

“You should be honored he's even asking, fuckstick.” Allison poked Kevin in the chest. “It means he likes you.”

“I’m not the one he asked to stay with him,” Kevin doubled down. “Why should I have to give him anything?” 

“You are such an asshole!” Dan accused. Matt looked like he wanted to test his luck a second time by hitting him again. 

Andrew took a step closer to Kevin, but Kevin accurately deduced that he wouldn’t touch him. He haughtily looked down at Andrew, making Andrew want to hit him anyway. Wanting Kevin’s bodily harm didn’t go against their deal. 

“I think what everyone means,” Renee interjected softly, “is that Neil would feel more comfortable if he could smell you.” 

Kevin wrinkled his nose at that, the word gross clearly passing through his thoughts. 

They seemed to have reached a little bit of an impasse. Kevin wouldn’t give away his jersey, and Andrew wouldn’t leave without it. But Neil was waiting, alone in Andrew’s bed, hopefully wearing Andrew’s clothes, tempting from a room away. Andrew wouldn’t wait for Kevin forever. 

Just as he made up his mind to just start digging through his clothes for the jersey, Dan threw a Hail Mary. 

“It’s for his health,” Dan said with the air of someone bargaining with a toddler. “Heats can be dangerous, so it’s important to make them pass as painlessly as possible. Otherwise they might last longer, or it might take Neil longer to recover. Abby wouldn’t clear him then.” 

There was a brief pause in which Kevin clearly computed that information. The calculations of having a singular jersey that smelt like Neil versus having Neil off the field for longer than a week clearly tipped the scales. 

“Fine.” Kevin groused out. He dug in his stuff before adding a jersey to the pile. “Anything else?” 

“No,” Andrew said, already gathering the pile on the floor. Someone had the foresight to put a blanket at the bottom, so Andrew could use it as a bag of sorts. 

“Really?” Kevin looked a little offended. Allison rolled her eyes. 

“Yes Kevin,” Andrew started moving from the room. He thought some fruit might have rolled out of the bundle. “He only wanted one thing from you.” 

Andrew didn’t mention how Neil only asked for one thing from them all. Kevin didn’t need to know that, and Nicky would be annoying about it. 

“I bet you feel embarrassed you kicked such a fuss now.” Nicky snickered. 

“Well if he…” Kevin trailed off. “Just…let me know.” 

Andrew gave him a nod and left the room. 

“Wait!” Nicky’s voice trails out after him. “You dropped an apple!” 

Andrew’s triumphant return to the room was marked by him dumping all of Neil’s shit into the floor. Neil jumped off the bed with enthusiasm, which impaled Andrew’s heart, and immediately began sorting through Andrew’s bounty. 

Andrew took stock of how the room had changed since he left. Essentially all of his dirty laundry pile had migrated from the floor to the bed, arranged in large sections on either side creating a canyon to lay in. Andrew’s blankets had been folded into the center of the canyon so that the person who laid down could easily cocoon into them. All of the socks had disappeared into the mass. 

Andrew looked back to Neil, and was pleased to find Neil wearing his sweatshirt. The daydreamed image didn’t come close to the reality of Neil with his messy hair, sifting through clothes and fruit on the floor. Neil was even just wearing a pair of boxers, emphasizing the size of the sweatshirt. 

Neil smelled joyful and determined. He sorted the clothes into piles that were incomprehensible to Andrew, but he was deliberate and focused in the same way he got when he ran or when he didn’t smoke. Andrew didn’t dare disturb the process, content to watch. 

Once Neil was done with whatever internal struggle he had about where to place Allison’s shorts (it ended in the pile with one of Renee’s knee pads and Kevin’s jersey) he looked up. 

“Nicky said to take whatever.” Andrew told him. “I think his blanket is on his bed.” 

Neil went and retrieved it, pleased as anything. He placed it in the pile with Dan’s tanktop and a pair of shorts from Matt. Apparently satisfied, Neil smiled up at Andrew dopily. 

“You look drunk.” Andrew noted. “Stop smiling at me like that.”

Neil, true to form, ignored him and kept smiling. “Will you help me?”

“With what?”

Neil gestured to the piles around him. “I have a lot more material than I thought I would. I could use some help building.”

Andrew sighed internally, feeling bothered by how unbothered he was by the request. He nodded. 

By Neil’s direction he pushed Nicky’s bed against Andrew’s for more room, and handed Neil various pieces of clothing. Neil fretted, something Andrew had never seen him do before, deliberating each piece of clothing before wrapping it, placing it, or stuffing it into a spot he deemed perfect. Once he was done, he flopped onto one of Andrew’s pillows, now fitted with Matt’s blue pillowcase, and wrapped himself into the assortment around him. Looking at Neil’s nest before and after, it would be impossible to tell that the same person made both. 

Andrew crossed his arms as he watched Neil shift around a little, hoping and waiting for the purring to start. What it would take, if not this, Andrew didn’t know. Once he was comfortable again, Neil let out a singular rumble from where he was buried. When the noise didn’t continue, a flair of anger shot up Andrew’s spine before he suppressed it. 

Getting closer . Andrew mused to himself. He clenched his fists from where they were crossed. What else could he do? 

He caught sight of the fruit on the floor. 

“Neil.” Neil popped up from a blanket. “Did you eat anything today?” 

“I’m fine.” Neil responded tiredly, his eyes half lidded and his posture droopy. This was the first physical sign of  heat Andrew had seen from Neil, and he added it to a growing list of ways that Neil presented. Andrew was hopeful of a repeat in the future, and for once his perfect memory would be useful. Neil was going to be so well taken care of. 

 “Amazing how that isn’t what I asked.” Andrew would not be swayed by a sleepy Neil. “Did you eat?” 

Neil blinked. “No. Didn’t have time.” 

Andrew highly doubted it, considering how small Neil’s nest was, and how little time it would have taken him to prepare it, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Nicky gave us fruit.” That caught Neil’s attention, making him suddenly alert. 

“What kind?” 

Andrew glanced at the floor. “Bananas, apples, a mango-“ 

“Mango?” Neil perked up a little more. Mango it was. Andrew picked up the fruit from the floor, and went to leave the room so he could plate it. Any of the other fruit could probably be eaten as-is, but Andrew didn’t want to risk getting juice all over Neil’s new nest. 

“Where are you going?” Neil asked, with a slight whine in the back of his throat. So in control even when he was clearly struggling with it. Andrew added brain fog to his mental list and answered by holding up the mango. 

“Oh.” Neil shifted as though he was getting up. 

“Stay.” Andrew told him. 

“But-”

“No. You can handle sitting still for the five minutes it will take me to put this mango on a plate.” 

And then Neil started to pout . Andrew wasn’t aware Neil could make more than three facial expressions—deer in headlights, blue-eyed grin, and short man rage—but Neil yet again proved him wrong with the presence of his very full and very red bottom lip sticking out. His scent turned a little sour, turning the salty ocean scent go kelp-y. He still looked sleepy and rumpled, adding to the overall effect. The only thing missing from the image was Neil crossing his arms in a huff, which Neil was clearly in control enough to withhold himself from doing. But Andrew could tell that control was slipping; the more comfortable Neil got, the more his heat instincts seemed to slip into his mannerisms. 

Andrew would not allow himself to be swayed by any of this. He would not admit to having any weak spots, and, most importantly, he had a reputation to maintain. As always, Neil decided to cut through him and wreak havoc. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” He admitted, still fucking pouting. “I’m tired of being alone.”

Andrew sighed internally. He would really let Neil get away with just about anything. 

“Fine.” Andrew walked away while talking. “Do what you want.”

Neil scrambled to get out of bed from behind him. Andrew reached the kitchen and got out a kitchen knife and one of the small fruit plates Nicky insisted on. He started peeling the fruit, hyper aware of Neil at his side. Neil didn’t touch him, and stood just inside Andrew’s bubble. Neil seemed to be paying just as much attention to Andrew’s hands as Andrew himself. 

“You smell nice,” Neil solemnly informed him. 

“So I’ve been told.” Andrew managed to get the whole mango peel in one long strip. He put the peel in his mouth to suck the excess fruit from as he started to cut the fruit from the pit. 

“Yeah,” Neil continued, just as seriously. “It’s like wood and smoke. A forest fire.”

“Dangerous.” Andrew observed. 

“Warm.” Neil corrected, unaware of the devastation he just caused.

Andrew didn’t respond. He cubed the mango flesh, but didn’t throw away the pit. (The pit was the best part.) Instead of heading back to the room, Andrew handed the plate to Neil, and spat the peel into the sink. Neil drew the plate closer to himself, his eyes wide and his scent wobbling, as though this one gift of cut fruit was a priceless treasure. 

“Thank you.” He said softly. Neil’s scent was saltier than usual. Andrew realized with a start that he smelt like tears, even though his eyes were dry. 

“Just eat it.”

“You cut me fruit.” 

“I am aware.” 

Neil transferred his full attention to Andrew, staring directly into his soul. 

“Thank you.” He repeated, emphasizing the words. Neil held the plate out. “Do you want some?” 

“Neil,” Andrew was losing his patience, “eat it. It’s yours.” 

Neil’s scent grew saltier, but he did as he was told. As he ate, his scent evened out to contentment again. 

Drama queen. Andrew thought. 

It was so strange to bear witness to Neil’s emotions in real time. His scent being so open, so vulnerable, was startling. That he would allow Andrew to experience him, in his entirety, at a time with the least amount of control, was more precious than Andrew could put into words. He doubted Neil truly felt such a rollercoaster all the time, and so quickly, but that didn’t lessen the impact it had on him. Suddenly, Andrew was glad that he could read scents so well; if it meant understanding Neil at his most vulnerable, it was worth it. 

Once Neil was done he thrust the plate back out to Andrew. Andrew took it and set it down. He opened his mouth, but Andrew cut him off. 

“Do not thank me again.” Andrew said. “Do you want more fruit?”

Neil considered the offer before shaking his head no. “I’m tired.”

Andrew gestured for him to walk ahead of him, and Neil shot off to the room as soon as he knew Andrew would follow. Neil reached the room far before Andrew did, and doubled back to Andrew before darting back to the room like an excited cat. Andrew let out a little amused huff at Neil’s impatience to get back to his nest. 

Neil basically launched himself from the doorway into his nest, somehow not disturbing any of his setup. He buried himself back into his nest so completely that only a tuft of his hair was visible. He stayed silent, in spite of the fact that he looked incredibly comfortable. Andrew knew he was being a little dramatic, and that realistically he hadn’t done much to elicit it, but he began to resign himself to the fact that Neil would likely never start purring. Andrew imagined his little daydream floating down a river and cascading down a waterfall. If Neil purring wasn’t in the cards, it wasn’t in the cards.

But then, Neil gave out a singular rumble again, and Andrew felt his determination return. Neil may never truly feel comfortable enough to drop his walls, and he may never vibrate like a cat in the sun, but that didn’t mean Andrew wouldn’t try his level best to make Neil as comfortable as possible. 

Andrew didn’t want to ask him if he wanted anything else because he didn’t want to coddle him. But he did want to make sure that Neil was completely taken care of. The end result was Andrew standing in front of Neil’s nest glaring at the tuft of hair. 

Neil shifted so that his arm was freed and flopped it towards Andrew. Andrew blinked. Neil let out a grumble and flopped his arm again. 

“What?” Andrew ground out the fourth time Neil thumped his arm onto the bed. 

“Come here.” Neil demanded. Andrew stepped closer, so that he was at the edge of the bed. He didn’t dare enter Neil’s nest without explicit permission; no one fucks with an omega’s nest, lest they face the consequences of a pissed off and territorial omega. Even if there wasn’t the implied threat of claws and fangs, Andrew wouldn’t enter Neil’s space without permission anyways. 

“No,” Neil drew out the word and flopped his arm again. Andrew felt the corners of his mouth turn up before he forced the expression off his face. “Come here .”

“Neil,” Andrew tried to keep his voice completely neutral, “do you want me in your nest?”

Neil flopped his arm in answer. Andrew refused to find that endearing. 

“Neil, I need a verbal response. Do you want me in your nest, yes or no?”

Neil unveiled his whole head to look up at Andrew, apparently aware of how important this was through his brain fog. “Yes.”

In the background of Andrew’s brain, the secret part that ran a commentary he didn’t react to, trumpets played and golden gates opened. Andrew gingerly climbed his way to the center of the nest, careful to disturb the items as little as possible. He laid down on his side on top of Neil’s blankets. Neil kept his head above the covers and moved his arm back into his own bubble. His scent grew victorious, and his dopey grin made a return. 

“Hey,” Neil said, like an idiot. His eyes were like flashlights. Andrew nonsensically wondered if he could turn them down.

“Hey,” Andrew responded, not like an idiot. 

“Are you comfortable?” Neil asked. 

“Are you?” Andrew shot back. 

Neil gave out a heaving sigh like Andrew was being particularly difficult. “Yes. Are you?”

It hit Andrew suddenly what Neil was actually asking. Neil, for all his blatantly suppressed desires and supposedly “weird heats,” was asking Andrew if he liked his nest. Neil wanted validation that he did a good job. 

“Yes.” Andrew finally responded after a beat, and he was telling the truth. Andrew didn’t lie on principle; Neil really had created a very comfortable nest. 

Neil let out a breath of noise. If Andrew wasn’t so close, he probably would have missed it. It sounded satisfied and clear. Andrew clutched it close to his chest, hoarding it like a dragon. Neil shifted, and Andrew was reminded of his happy wiggles earlier. This seemed to be a much more subdued version, and Andrew wondered why Neil didn’t complete the motion. 

“Do you ache anywhere?” Andrew recalled Neil’s confession earlier. 

“No.” Neil answered. He took stock again. “Well, a little maybe.”

“Do you want pain meds?”

“No.” Neil answered immediately. “No pills.”

Andrew didn’t like what that answer implied, but suppressed the anger; he didn’t want to stink up Neil’s nest with his rage-smell. He stared Neil down, waiting for him to tell him what to do. After a long stretch of silence, in which Andrew realized he should have known better, Andrew tried again. 

“Do you want a heating pad?”
“I have all these blankets, though.”

“For the pain.”

Neil shifted. “Would that help?”

What sort of fucked up life did Neil have to leave to not know that? 

“Yes.” Andrew responded, then he started shifting to go get one. He paused when Neil started shifting too. “Neil, you have to stay here.” 

“Why?”

Andrew didn’t have an answer to that other than a glare. “What will it take for you to stay in this bed?”

“You.” 

Andrew was going to fucking punch him. 

“You’re in pain.” 

“And?” 

“We can easily fix that problem.” 

“I’m not the one kicking up a fuss.” 

“It’s cute that you think that.” 

“You think I’m cute?” 

Andrew may have backed himself into a corner.  He grit his teeth and muscled through. 

“Neil.” The name came out more strained than he intended. Neil smirked. Andrew decided to do the one tactic that usually worked, even on Neil. He stared at him and waited. 

Lo and behold, Neil responded the exact way Andrew wanted him to. 

“I don’t want to be away from you.” Neil admitted, looking away. “I know it’s stupid, but heats make me stupid. You make me feel safe.” 

“You’re always stupid,” Andrew told him. “Heats don’t make a difference.” 

Though his words and tone were unkind, Neil seemed to understand what he meant. 

“Can you stay here?” Neil asked in a little voice. He drew his hands up so that they rested underneath his head. “It really doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ve had worse.”

Andrew thought about the skin he felt from under Neil’s shirt, a name Neil flinched at while spitting out, and disregarded the statement. Neil’s threshold of worse didn’t matter, and wasn’t normal. 

“It doesn’t have to hurt,” Andrew felt like he was admitting a truth about himself, rather than arguing with Neil. “It shouldn’t hurt.” 

“You make it hurt less.” Neil answered. He closed his eyes, apparently deciding that the conversation was over. 

Andrew rolled this statement over in his head. Andrew was not a source of comfort. When someone wanted healing they called Aaron, and when someone wanted coddling they called Nicky. But when someone wanted solutions, they called Andrew. He was a solution built like a bullet; sturdy, short, and brutal. He was not precise, he was not careful, and he did not care about collateral. He kept people safe, and he was good at it, but he couldn’t fathom making anything hurt less . 

And Neil, who’s idea of a heat seemed to be an inconvenience at best and a danger at worst, who built himself into a corner out of habit and not out of fear, who fought himself with a viciousness that bordered on dangerous, settled down next to him. Andrew could hurt him; Andrew has hurt him. And yet, and yet, and yet. 

There was a beast in Andrew’s rib cage that wanted to crawl out and settle into the hole that clearly existed in Neil’s own sternum. 

Neil’s hands rested near the pillow he laid his head on. He was curled into a tight little ball that was cute on its surface, but in context with his shitty little nest became worrying. Andrew moved a hand up to lay next to Neil’s. 

“Yes or no?” He whispered, hovering his fingers a whisker away from Neil’s. He flexed his pinky to demonstrate to Neil what he was asking. 

Neil opened one eye lazily, his sleepiness fully taking hold. “Yes.” 

Andrew linked their pinkies together. Neil heaved a sigh that was more rumble than breath, and Andrew felt a thrill at the sound. This rumble had been the longest yet, and Andrew held his breath, determined to experience it in full, this close. Each small noise was a rumble, even if they didn’t last. 

But this one did, and Andrew realized with a start that Neil was rumbling on intake breaths as well. Andrew had done it; Neil was purring . Andrew felt like he won an alpha lottery. 

It was going to be a fantastic week.