Chapter Text
So here’s the fun-cool-normal-fine (no, it’s fine!! Seriously, it’s FINE!!) thing about Jason Carver.
He’s an Omega.
Only four people on planet earth know: Mom, Dad, his girlfriend Chrissy, and his little brother Jude. Ah, Jude Carver. Thirteen years old, Alpha. Everything a mother could want: blonde, handsome, gallant. Everything a father could (does) hate: creative, sensitive, and (worst and most egregious of all) a threatre kid.
The Carver boys have a special way of disappointing their father. An Alpha who acts like an Omega and an Omega who acts like an Alpha.
Because to the world around him, Jason is an Alpha. Quintessential. He’s bold and loud, captain of the basketball team, dating a cheerleader.
Chrissy Cunningham: Omega. Other than her surprising leadership skills as head cheerleader, Chrissy is the perfect Omega. A stereotype of a stereotype. She’s quiet, sweet, a little shy, and always defers to Jason, her Alpha.
Except the whole...ya know...not an Alpha thing. Chrissy has been keeping this ruse up since the eighth grade, and he’ll appreciate that until the day he dies. Jason loves her. He’d marry her today if he could. Their relationship is honestly perfect in all ways...just not biologically.
“Jason?”
He looks up from his lunch. “What’s up?”
Chrissy is looking at him like he hung the moon, all Omega-sweet and shy. “Andy asked you a question, baby.”
Shit, right. He levels his friend with a cocky look. “Guess it wasn’t important enough to pay attention to. What d’you want, Johnson?”
Andy frowns, his teeth gritted. “Asked if you were making the party tonight,” he grunts.
“Maybe.” Jason shrugs, smirking.
Andy is easy to piss off -- classic Alpha shithead. The posturing, the harassment, the obsession with being seen as macho, and the staunch desire to snatch the crown from the King of Hawkins High. He and Andy have an uneasy friendship. They both know Andy wants what Jason has, and he’ll do basically anything to get it. He wants the status and the team captain shit, but he also wants Chrissy.
It’s a dangerous game.
This whole thing is a balancing act. If Jason’s top of the line suppressants failed for even one second, Andy would scent him and everything would be over. Honestly, Jason’s not sure he’d be safe in a room with Andy at that point. It’s horrible to think your friend could be capable of...you know...but it is what it is. There’s a reason Omegas try to avoid being alone with Alphas.
He continues, “Anyone cool gonna be there?”
“Me, shithead,” Andy growls.
He’s appropriately riled up. Jason snorts and turns his attention back to Chrissy. He’s conscious of the other guys on the team -- a mix of Betas and Alphas -- watching him apprehensively. Everybody expects a blowout fight one day. Maybe he or Andy get a little too close to rut, some words are thrown, and boom -- someone’s ending up headless. Jason is decently sure Andy would never actually challenge him, but he’s gotta be careful to keep him in his place.
“Then yeah,” he says carelessly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Andy relaxes a little bit. “Fine.”
Conversation flows after that, but the tension between the two Alphas is crackling in the air. Chrissy is carefully still next to him, her nostrils flared. Some of his friends have pointed out how weird it is that Chrissy is constantly scenting him, like she’s possessive or crazy or something, and he’s just laughed along. You know how Omega chicks get, he’d chuckled, then changed the subject.
Sure felt like shit saying that. She’s actually trying to figure out if any of his natural scent -- pure sugar -- is seeping through. As an Alpha, he wears enough woodsmoke-scented cologne to choke a horse. Everyone is stupid enough to just think he’s got a manly scent and move on about their day. He and Chrissy actually have similar scents -- she’s more raspberries in sunshine, he’s more sugary hard candies. Everyone always compliments him on having such a pretty Omega with such a pleasant scent. Like he owns her. Like he’s responsible for every positive thing about her.
It makes Jason feel about two feet tall. Sometimes he wishes he could just tell the truth, for fuck’s sake.
I’m an Omega, fuckers! I don’t give a shit what you think of me.
But that’s impossible. So for now, he’ll play this stupid game. Once high school is over, maybe he can hop off this tightrope and disappear into some big city where things are a little more progressive.
xxx
Eddie Munson has himself a problem. Well, two problems to be exact: they’re both blondish, peppyish, and unattainable-ish. (Not ‘ish’ for that last one. Completely and utterly out of his reach.)
He’s been pining for Chrissy Cunningham since he was a bozo thirteen-year-old with a shaved head. Some stupid hand-holding and cheek kissing at a talent show a million years ago and he’s been gone for a girl he can’t have ever since. Honestly, it’s almost benignly painful at this point. Sure, it hurts to see her swanning through the halls with that tragic little smile on her face, but he’ll never have her. So why try? When she holds hands with her doofus Ken doll boyfriend, he wishes it was him, but...ya know. Give up the ghost and just be grateful you get to see her at all. That sort of thing.
Aforementioned doofus Ken doll boyfriend. He’s the second problem.
Okay, here’s the thing -- and hear him out -- Eddie has known he’s into dudes since the fumbling hookup with Pierre Goodman in his first senior year. He’s made his peace with liking both holes, as it were.
As an Alpha, he’s got his pick of the litter, not pun intended. There’s plenty of Omega guys in school, even if they try to be subtle about it. The nose knows. Eddie might be a stupid fuck, but he’s got this preternaturally strong sense of smell that’s gotten him out of a few scrapes. Fellow Alpha being a dickhead but can’t tell why? Eddie can smell when their rut will come, down to the hour. Then he can proceed as such. Same thing with Omegas. He’s even scented Betas, who usually don’t smell like much other than their shampoo or deodorant.
But, yeah.
He deigned to go to a basketball game about a month back. (AKA: to see the cheer girls shaking ass. Sue him, he’s just a mortal man.) Mr. Meathead himself was on the court and scored a three pointer shot (basket? goal? something?) from across the court. When he’d bounced across the court to his idiot friends, his uniform rode up and... Eddie doesn’t know. It did something to him.
That pale, lean stomach, the trail of light blonde hair leading to the waistband of those stupid shorts., this weird, sugary-sweet smell wafting across the court.
He’d popped the world’s most confusing boner and had to sit in the stands for like half an hour until it went down.
HALF AN HOUR.
Unheard of, but Eddie felt like he was gonna pop a knot. It was the weirdest thing. But now he can’t stop staring at Carver. It’s a problem.
He wants to bend the guy over and give it to him hard, wants to snack on his mating gland, wants to make him suck his dick while his girlfriend watches. (Oh, Chrissy. He could love her if she let him.) But why the hell would he do that? Jason is an Alpha. Eddie has never thought of another Alpha that way -- it just isn’t done.
Weird.
Speaking of lunch, he’s completely ignoring whatever story Jeff is telling and staring at Mr. and (future) Mrs. Carver. He’s never that close to them, not to scent Chrissy like a pervert or cop a feel when good old Jacey boy walks by. Ergo, he’s got plenty of time to stare. No classes together, just a lunch period. But still -- he ogles the two of them anytime he can. Ah, well.
He turns back to Jeff. (Something to do with his girlfriend, who goes to the Catholic school across town. Eddie doesn’t miss the heartbroken look on Gareth’s face. Poor kid. His infatuation with Jeff is probably even more hopeless than Eddie’s with the golden kids. Jeff has been dating the same girl since fifth grade.)
But then...here they come, huh.
Eddie just about pisses himself trying to figure out how to act -- they’re never this close -- before he realizes they’re just leaving the cafeteria. Nothing special. Well, except for the stricken look on Jason’s face. The guy seriously looks like he’s seen a ghost. Chrissy is holding his hand, murmuring undoubtedly sappy things in his ear, but she looks awfully nervous too. Sometimes Eddie wishes he wasn’t so observant. Why should he care what’s going on with them? Why does their concern bug him so much? Why does he wish he could just talk to them? Pathetic.
They speed by the Hellfire table, lost in their own world...when Eddie’s entire fucking life changes.
He takes a deep breath, trying to turn his attention back to Jeff, when the two sweetest scents he’s ever smelt invade his nose. That’s truly what it is: an invasion. Eddie jolts in his seat. Sun-warmed berries, melt-in-your-mouth sweet, the slightest hint of tartness, playful and intriguing. Then there’s the other: nothing but sugar, so strong it nearly bowls him over. Sugar and apprehension, actually.
Eddie locks eyes with Chrissy. He didn’t mean to scent her -- it’s lowkey rude. But she smells so fucking good.
Her eyes are wide, panicked. Then they flick to Jason. His nostrils flare and he freezes right where he stands. The look of pure fear in his eyes stuns Eddie into silence.
Why the hell is Carver looking at him like a bunny in a wolf den? What’s so wrong with him that--
Oh, holy fuck.
Jason Carver is an Omega.
xxx
Chrissy grabs Jason’s hand and yanks him out of the cafeteria at a gallop. It might look weird later, his submissive girlfriend dragging him around, but that’s the least of her worries.
SHIT.
The jig is up. Eddie Munson scented them both and, judging by the sheer shocked surety (Alliteration!! she thinks hysterically) on his face, he knows. She feels it in her bones. There’s no other reason for that expression -- it’s gonna haunt her dreams -- without any close contact.
His nostrils had flared, his eyes had widened, and his jaw had gone slack. And weirdly, his cheeks flushed bright red. Chrissy has never seen someone blush that fast.
Again, she’ll process that later. Priorities.
“Fuck,” Jason hisses. “Chrissy, he knows.”
“I know, baby,” she huffs as they speed through the halls. She’s definitely skipping the rest of the day and holing up with Jace -- they need to get his scent under control. Maybe he can double up on blockers or something. If Mr. Carver finds out somehow, they ‘ll be totally fucked. He’s a cruel man on the best of days. Grappling with the fact that someone knows his son is an Omega is one thing, but the fact that it was Eddie fucking Munson -- that’s a death sentence.
Eddie is the epitome of uncool. He’s a loudmouth super-super senior who always wants attention. He’s sort of a bully to the jocks, he's always disrupting class, and he's never not yelling. Sure, seeing how free he is, dancing through the halls and laughing so hard he snorts soda through his nose...sure, that’s kind of nice. And the memory of an unusually kind metalhead holding her hand, letting her rub his freshly shaven peach fuzz head to make her laugh, blushing when she kissed his cheek, telling all sorts of dirty jokes...that’s on her mind more than she wants to admit. Jason knows her, uh, thoughts about Eddie. He’s never been upset by it. The heart wants what the heart wants, after all, and he knows she’d never cheat on him. Plus, Eddie probably hates them both. He literally barked at Jason once, like a dog. It was gross And silly.
Whatever. This is bad. Really, really bad. What’s even worse is the sound of footsteps pounding behind them, and a deep voice calling: “Jason! Chrissy! Wait up!”
Oh. Fucking. No.