Archive of Our Own

When they first woke up Bell asked all the important questions their mind struggled to fill; their name, who they were, and who the man was in front of them. Everything else was garnered through context clues and eavesdropping on conversations.

There were some things that Bell inherently knew. The military primarily employed alphas, which was how they ended up on a majority alpha-dynamic team. Alphas had always been a part of labor-intensive fields of work like construction, security, and farming. Instincts honed for millenia to protect and provide for their community ensured the next generation had their physical needs met. Betas were considered the most stable, excelling in research, logistics, and politics. They were the least affected by the wiles of alphas and omegas, and didn’t have to worry about setting aside time for heats or ruts. It was why Adler, a beta working for the CIA, led the operation in the safe house and Park, the other beta on the team, was a part of M16, the CIA’s British counterpart. Omegas took up caretaker roles. Teachers, doctors, therapists. They were the ones that were meant to ensure that communities were emotionally healthy. 

There were no omegas with the team at CIA Safehouse E9 in West Berlin. Omegas were still rare in military operations, only introduced to more active roles in the past decade, and to much controversy because of the Vietnam War. Vietnam changed how ground warfare was conducted. The Viet Cong knew almost all ground forces were alphas. They used slick harvested from in-heat omegas and slathered it along game trails to lead entire platoons into traps. Once allied forces learned about the slick markers, it was switched to the scent of distressed omegas. Both methods were quickly co-opted by Russians that allied themselves with the communist Viet Cong. 

Bell was introduced to Adler in the muggy, sticky forests of Vietnam. Their role was to make sure alpha teams didn’t wander to their deaths following their noses for rewards, or victims, that didn’t exist. Adler’s beta dynamic was instrumental in keeping dozens of men alive while he was deployed. Bell helped. 

They had a general assumption they were a beta too. It was what their memories in Vietnam depicted anyway. The two of them shared a tent away from the alphas, half for modesty and half for not being a part of the marines. With their presence tied to operation Fractured Jaw they couldn’t exactly be buddies with who they were stationed with. Close enough to be work partners but kept at an arms length for professional reasons. Their CIA backing also marked both of them too troublesome to pursue romantically or sexually. None of that was on Bell’s mind, as they were far too bothered by restless nights sweating and grueling days waiting out the rain.

Sims was one of the many alphas Bell met in Vietnam during their deployment in 1967. Between Bell, Adler, and Sims, there was an easy camaraderie before, during, and after Fractured Jaw that allowed them to remain close while other alphas ostracised them. Adler recruited him to help in the West Berlin safe house. Two more alphas, Lazar and Hudson, were meant to act as muscle alongside Sims, patrolling and protecting the safe house while the team occupied the building. 

Once Bell finished their work it was a matter of waiting for leads to appear.  Bell would decode, Park and Adler would cross reference their sources, and the entire pack would go out and find more documents to decode once more. It was an easy cycle of work.

Later, Woods and Mason would join, another alpha and beta respectively, acting as extra operators when they needed additional backup in the field. Woods was an alpha Bell enjoyed the presence of almost immediately. The mission they went on together showed the two of them had an easy camaraderie, and would have been considered a great success if Perseus hadn’t wiped the data server that they recovered from the Spetsnaz facility. Of course, Bell was sorely reminded that Woods and Mason were already bonded. The former was not shy to show off the bite they had exchanged years back. 

Bell didn’t feel heartache, but he did spend the next few days moping. Adler gave the occasional pat on his shoulder to comfort Bell during this time. It helped that Woods and Mason were sent to Yamantau, and Adler didn’t say anything about Bell acting as his shadow in the interim.

As soon as the duo left, Bell started feeling… odd. Restless, even. They found they were cold constantly, bundled up more than usual compared to the rest of the team in the bunker. When their coat wouldn’t suffice, Bell took to wearing gloves, boots, and an extra set of clothes in an attempt to retain heat. Once they found the linen closet they grabbed a few blankets to take back to their room. Bell piled the blankets on their bed as a makeshift mattress padding. It did little to help insulate themself from the cold that they couldn’t seem to shake. They weren’t the only member of the safehouse who took to pilfering the linen closet after its discovery. Bell saw others haul blankets and quilts to their own beds. West Berlin was in the bitter dregs of winter and the cavernous bunker refused to stay warm no matter how often the furnace ran. 

The extra padding on their bed felt better but anything and everything woke Bell up. They spent each night in a shallow sleep, and could hear every paper shuffled and each echoed footsteps as if it happened right next to their ear. 

Food quality in the bunker was also starting to get to Bell too. They didn’t remember having such a delicate constitution while in Vietnam, but they felt bloated after every meal. All of the MREs and equally processed food that were stored in the bunker quickly became unappetizing. Bell couldn’t remember the last time they saw an actual vegetable or fruit or meat on their plate that didn’t come from a can. They found themself lurking around food storage, hungry for something while being unable to put a finger on what. Something sweet, something salty, but definitely beyond what was rationed out. Once or twice Adler would slide the packaged chocolate from his own MRE to Bell, and Bell would graciously wolf it down.

Bell knew something was wrong when the other members of the bunker started to comment on their appearance. Bell could barely look at themself in a mirror without feeling sick so they had no idea how much their health had declined from their sleepless nights. There was something not right with their eyes. One was completely blown open; the pupil encapsulating the iris leaving a half-drunken look on his face. Bell’s face didn’t match their memory either. They thought their nose was broken a different way, a scar across their face was in a different spot. Was that a freckle or a remnant of teenage acne that their fingers wouldn’t stop scratching at? Rather than deal with the dizzying nausea Bell kept their balaclava on. It did help keep their face warm as the bunker felt colder with each passing day. 

It didn’t stop the clear signs of exhaustion that sat heavy under their eyes. Park offered to help with some cryptography, decoding messages Bell had already figured out the protocols for. Sims and the other alphas offered to do sweeps of the surrounding area to make sure the bunker, and all of its occupants, were secure. Adler dismissed them early in the evenings so Bell could try and fall asleep sooner and sooner. 

The efforts helped Bell in the barest sense. It was better than nothing but very little changed about their demeanor. There was something itching under their skin that they couldn’t reach. 

Bell’s wellbeing, or lack thereof, soured the mood inside the safehouse. Everyone had become close in a few weeks and bonds felt on par with most military packs now; individuals who had months if not years to forge pack bonds with each other. If Bell didn’t feel like warmed over roadkill they would’ve basked in the accomplishment. 

Adler’s solution, the beta announced to the pack one night to help bolster morale, was warm fresh food. Not the usual takeout hastily collected and cold by the time it came through the safe house doors, nor newer MREs delivered alongside supply drops that Sims coordinated. Real food. Cooked food that was still hot when it landed on all of their plates.

It was simple fare. Meat in a gravy sauce with mashed potatoes and stewed cabbage. Sims procured the fresh ingredients while Hudson and Lazar took it upon themselves to prepare everything. Bell sat with the rest of the betas for the “show” as Park described it. They got to watch all the alphas preen under the praise of a job well done as the three of them provided for their pack. The food tasted a tad salty, but it was the best meal all of them had in ages.

Everyone got food poisoning less than two hours after the meal. 

Every member of the pack moved through the safehouse with a bucket or bowl held at their side. A few times the sound of retching echoed through the building, but for the most part everyone could continue their jobs throughout the safehouse, unlike Bell. Bell’s body decided the best course of action was to evacuate everything out the other end. It was a minor miracle that they had their own bathroom for the hours of suffering they endured. The persistent roll in their stomach prevented Bell from wandering too far from their quarters.  

Bell didn’t question why they were given their own facilities. At first Bell found it to be a blessing; to be given their own sanctuary to relax at the end of the day was rare during an operation like this. All three alphas were crammed into a single room, albeit the largest in the safe house, so Bell reveled in their privacy. It was a small room too. If Bell spread their arms their fingertips would be able to brush the walls. All they really had was a narrow bed, a dresser, and a pilfered folding chair for their duffle bag to slump in. The novelty of having their own room wore off soon enough. The rest of the pack was able to share stories about antics that came with sharing a sleeping quarters with multiple people. Who snored, who insisted on leaving the lights on, even tired stories of late nights with sleepy conversations. As much as Bell enjoyed listening to Adler complain about Park leaving her things across the bathroom sink, only for Park to counter with the same complaint about Adler’s own hair gels and sprays, Bell couldn’t stop the ache in his chest over the fact that they were isolated away from the other betas. 

At that moment, Bell’s churning gut didn’t give them the opportunity to dwell on it too much. They were glad that they didn’t have to worry about someone pounding at the door for them to hurry up.

Once the pack recovered several hours later, the team reviewed the intel recovered, split between what was recovered by Bell in the Soviet training facility in Ukraine and what Woods and Mason had uncovered in Yamantau. Pale and queasy, they kept encountering dead end after dead end until Adler proposed what their next step should be: infiltrating the KGB headquarters itself.

The “locker room” in the safehouse was a modified storage room that kept mission supplies in haphazard towers. Frequently used items were in easier to reach places. Trunks perched on table edges, gun cabinets had clear paths for the doors to swing open, and already open crates had their contents half spilling out of them. The less an item was used, the further it got pushed back in the labyrinth of supplies. It was less army-associated neatness and more intelligence-agency-related chaos. If you knew where everything was it all made sense.

Even then, Bell pawed through a handful of boxes before they found what they were looking for. Methods to block someone’s scent had been used for centuries. The roll of thick, cottony adhesive bandages the size of their fist was squirreled away at the very bottom of a crate, shoved into the furthest corner.  What Bell held in their hand was the newest iteration of it. 

Each roll contained about thirty scent-blocking patches. Fifteen disposable sets to be stuck on scent glands on top of one’s shoulders, where scents were the strongest. They were easy to stick on and you could either wait for the adhesive to naturally peel off or rip it off with minimal damage to your skin. 

In the quiet locker room Bell picked at the fresh roll, fiddling with the sticky edge of the first patch. It was the same struggle as trying to find where a roll of tape began. They weren’t sure if they should apply the patches now or if they should wait until they entered Soviet territory. There was always a chance they could reapply again before the mission truly started, but an equal chance that they wouldn’t have the opportunity to apply the patches if they waited until they were at the doorstep of the Soviet bunker.

“Don’t mind Hudson.” Adler’s voice made Bell jump almost a foot in the air. “Remember what I said?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone he can’t control.” Bell parroted the sentiment from earlier. They turned to face Adler as the man started to dig through the supplies. “And that there were others that were better for the mission.”

Adler frowned and turned his attention to one of the many trunks. “And I disagree with his opinion.” He paused his search. “Good thing this is my op.”

“Looking for these?” Bell held up the scent patches.

The beta looked up from his search. “Yeah, glad that you’ve found them already. We’re going to have to keep a low profile the entire trip to not tip off any Soviets that were infiltrating.”

“They have a record of your scent profile?”

“I'm not that big of a fish.” Adler plucked the roll of scent blocker patches from Bell's hand. “But with Belikov getting us uniforms, we wouldn't want our scents to sully our disguise right at the start.” The beta dug through one of the many open trunks. Before Bell could ask what else he was looking for, Adler already found his next prize. “Perfect. Hold this.”

It was a handmirror. A cheap one, large enough to frame a face at any distance, with a handle. The mirror was thrusted towards Bell with the reflection-side facing them. Even with most of their face covered, nausea bubbled up in Bell’s throat. 

Adler flicked the mirror to the side, the edge faced Bell now, their reflection ripped away from their view. Bell swallowed back the taste of bile. 

“Hold this, Bell.” Adler’s voice had an unreadable tone to it. His voice was tight as if it was hard to get words past his lips. They couldn’t tell if Adler was angry, disappointed, or sympathetic, or all three, towards whatever emotion flashed through Bell’s eyes. 

Bell mutely took the mirror and let Adler adjust the reflection to suit his needs. The plastic back of the mirror was opaque and reflected back a white shine of the overhead lights. Bell kept their eyes downcast anyway. They weren't sure if they could face their silhouette’s reflection now without their stomach settling first. Bouts of disassociation had become more frequent the longer Bell stayed in the safe house and left Bell more unsteady than ever. Adler’s gentle guidance was enough to keep them from doubling over.

Rustling cloth managed to pull Bell back into the present. Something was tossed onto the table, and Bell’s eyes instinctually followed the movement to its source and Jesus Christ.

Russell Adler was shirtless in front of him. 

The beta wasn’t bothered by Bell’s gawking. It wasn’t indecent, shirtless betas weren’t a taboo thing, and Adler still had his pants on. His belt was still fastened around his waist. If Bell’s memory served them correctly, they had seen Adler with far less on when they both had to deal with communal showers in Vietnam. That memory didn’t help beat back the growing flush that Bell felt in their cheeks. 

Adler’s lips thinned as he kept searching for the end of the scent blocker roll. His thumbnail traced along the curve trying to catch the edge of a patch to peel it up. Bell’s time to ogle was limited at best. 

They rarely let their gaze linger across someone like this. A well-shaped alpha purposefully showboating, a particularly flirty omega looking to score a free drink, a beta rubbing shoulders where mingling (and more) was encouraged, it wasn’t enough for Bell in most cases. Bell couldn’t figure out why Frank Woods was a recent exception to their usual lack of attraction towards others. Adler had suddenly earned that same exception too. Maybe their attraction to Adler had always lingered in the back of Bell’s mind and in such close proximity in the safe house, working together daily after years of separation, made something finally click for them. The beta was well built, svelte, muscled without hard lines. His skin was pockmarked with a number of scars from both blades and bullets, but it was far from grotesque. It made him look even more attractive in Bell’s eyes. Body hair was sparse, even for a beta, but there was enough of a trail that led from Adler’s stomach to his belt buckle (and likely lower) that made Bell’s mouth water.

“Keep it steady Bell.” 

Not quite a command, but enough for Bell to realize the mirror had sunk in height. They brought it back up, hoping it was still the same angle that Adler adjusted it to. 

He finally found the edge of the roll, peeled away the first patch, and looked at the mirror. The oft-clumsy dance of reversing movements was made graceful by the beta. Adler had more chances to practice correctly applying scent blockers through a reflection since he does field work more often than Bell. Bell was often behind a computer screen or sitting at a desk instead of wielding a gun during a firefight. 

The second patch was soon applied to Adler’s other shoulder. The beta posed and turned to make sure both were centered and covering his scent glands. Adler rolled his shoulders a few times to make sure the adhesive wouldn’t lift, and he rubbed along the edges of each patch to make sure that they were secure against his skin. Once satisfied, Adler held his hand out for the mirror that Bell was holding. “Now it’s your turn.”

The mirror exchanged hands. Bell steeled themself for having to face their reflection long enough to apply the patches. They were still shaken from the glance they had earlier. 

Adler studied the mirror. He placed it facedown on the table. “I’ll help you get them on.” He went back to searching for the end of the scent blocker roll. “Damn these things, you think they would make it easier to…” He trailed off, focusing on the task at hand. 

Bell tried to tug their shirt collar to the side so Adler had enough room to stick the patch. The extra layers they wore now made it next to impossible for Bell to pull it too far from their neck. Taking a page out of Adler’s book, Bell began removing the layers they wore. The cold air was all the more frigid against Bell’s skin as they became more and more exposed. They fought back the urge to cover themself again just to stay warm. Adler didn’t seem to be as affected by the temperature as they were despite being more exposed, so Bell fought through the discomfort. It would only be for a short while for the patches to be applied.

They tossed their clothes beside Adler’s on the table. Jacket, flannel, second flannel, shirt, undershirt, the pile that was Bell’s clothes was certainly much taller than what Adler had left on the table. 

After Bell’s torso was completely bare, they turned towards Adler.

For a split second, Adler’s suave demeanor vanished. The beta fumbled with the scent blocker roll, shocked that Bell had turned towards him in this state. There was a faint blush across his cheeks as he caught the roll, straightening himself and returning back to his usual self. He cleared his throat. “A bit of a warning next time, Bell.” Adler’s voice was stony. 

“Sorry, I–” Bell mimed pulling their shirt collar to the side. They hoped the movement would convey their reasoning. “Yeah.”

Adler cleared his throat again. “Well, it’s already happened. Hold still.” 

Now that command Bell could follow. They squared themself, raising their chin so that the full line of their throat was bared towards Adler; submission to let the beta do what he needed. Bell could only watch the man from their peripherals now and they swore they saw Adler swallow before approaching. 

Bell knew the man’s hands were calloused. They had been at the receiving end of the beta’s manhandling. Alder was no stranger to going on hard missions and getting dirty, and that the man was just as comfortable behind a desk as he was in the middle of gunfire. Bell had witnessed firsthand the carnage that Adler had wrought with his hands, fingers wrapped around a trigger or a grenade pin or the handle of a knife.

Adler’s fingers were so gentle and warm against Bell’s skin, their breath caught in their throat. Soft prodding was all it took for Bell to comply with Adler’s guidance, baring their throat further to give the beta more access. Bell couldn’t tell if they were shivering from the cold, or if their trembling was from Adler’s fingertips tracing where a mating bite should be. Their eyes fluttered closed. They wouldn’t mind the feeling of Adler’s teeth against their skin right now. The two of them worked so close together, they might as well bond at this point. Maybe after this they could find a nest nearby, or even this table would do, and all Bell had to do was shimmy their pants down a little bit for–

Bell’s nose wrinkled at the sting of adhesive bandage being pulled up, breath hissing through their teeth. It was quick, sharp, and yanked them out of whatever their imagination was leading them towards. 

“Sorry, I put it on crooked.” Adler relaid the bandage, smoothing it out over Bell’s skin again. The pressure helped alleviate some of the residual sting.

Bell hummed in response. It took everything in their power to fight back the fluster caused by their sudden fantasy. They had to focus. Bell had self control and should not be thinking about getting railed when they have to be mission ready in less than an hour. 

Adler laid the second patch against Bell’s skin with little fanfare. He stepped back, sniffed the air, and nodded. “Perfectly scentless. Now get your gear on, we’re going to be heading out soon.” Adler pulled on his shirt and made a swift exit.

Bell was left behind. That was alright. Adler probably had a few things to do before they left for Russia. It did sting Bell a bit that Adler didn’t linger, but it wasn’t the beta’s style. Adler kept himself detached from most people, Bell themself included. The physical distance between the two of them during the past decade was the reason their friendship lasted this long. Bell gently traced around where the patches were stuck to their skin, making sure they were fully adhered. 

The placement was a bit odd though. Scent glands were set in different spots depending on one’s dynamic, all around the trapezius muscle. Alphas had their more towards the back, near their shoulder blades. Anthropologists claimed it was because it was the easiest way for alphas to claim territory without their eyes leaving their pack. All they had to do was lean against a tree or rock and it would be marked with their scent. Betas had their scent glands square in the middle of their shoulder, just above where collar bones were. It was social, allowing reciprocal scenting and sowing trust among pack members. A beta would not scent anyone, or anything, they didn’t want to. Beta scents contained light, subtle notes, and being scented by one meant that there was complete trust, and often let pack alphas know who deserved protection. 

Omega scent glands were just above the collar bone. 

Right where Adler stuck the scent blockers on Bell.

Everything felt unbearably sore. God, the mission wasn’t even half over and all Bell wanted to do was lay down and rest. Adler told them to quit fucking around the few times they tried to stretch and alieviate the pervasive soreness. Now, with dozens of Soviets hunting them down, Bell couldn’t stop thinking about the ache that centered around their abdomen. It felt like it was near their kidneys, but Bell knew it wasn’t the true source. 

Entering Lubyanka was easy with Adler’s contact, a high ranking Soviet alpha named Belikov. Disguises were removed from the bodies of alpha guards Belikov lured into the furnace room and donned. Both Bell and Adler had free reign to move about and get the missing sleeper agent data they so desperately needed once they dressed. The hardest part about navigating the halls of the KGB headquarters for Bell was not constantly sniffing the collar of the pilfered jacket. In the worst coincidence possible, they were wearing the uniform from the best smelling Soviet the KGB had employed. If Adler wasn’t pushing Bell they would have never left the furnace room and been discovered by a patrol huffing the jacket of their dead comrade. 

Plans rarely liked to be followed. There were several close calls where their cover was almost blown and they had to use a string of contingency plans in order to secure their escape. Thick clouds of gas poured from the vents onto the KGB members that held Belikov hostage– the result of one of those contingencies laid from Bell and Adler navigating the halls earlier.

Bell already had a hard time breathing. The aforementioned suit jacket could only be blamed so much. They took shallow breaths so they could focus on the mission, attempting to ignore the alpha scents that surrounded them, but Bell found themself gasping for breath dozens of times as they sprinted through the bunker. They were supposed to be in better shape than this. The gas mask strapped to Bell’s face didn’t help with air intake either. Each inhale and exhale through the mask’s filters was deafening in Bell’s ears. They almost fumbled putting on Belikov’s mask while Soviets around them asphyxiated because they could barely focus on anything outside of breathing. 

“... gonna need some heavier gear.” Adler’s voice faded back into Bell’s awareness, something directed at the alpha they just rescued. 

“I know just the place my friend.”

Bell suppressed a groan. They didn’t want to be weighed down by more. It was getting harder and harder to not drag their feet as they moved through the facility. Adler had to shove Bell in order for them to start walking a few times. In any other circumstance Bell would be embarrassed about their lazy performance on the field. 

Right now their head felt like it was filled with syrup. 

Overhead fluorescents were searing as they all moved into the belly of the bunker. The feeling of bullets whizzing past didn’t bring any much needed, near-death adrenaline rush. Bell’s own shots were sluggish against the KGB agents that crossed their path. They still managed to leave a trail of corpses in their wake with the help of Adler and Belikov. 

Should the bunker feel this foggy? Bell kept their eyes forward and made sure that they continued moving.

Another handful of rooms and they found the cache Belikov told them about. Body armor, helmets, higher calibers than what they pilfered during their trek. All three of them pulled off their rubber gas masks. The noxious gas from before had thinned enough for the air to be breathable again, but they still expected to be hit with the bitter cloy that had caused the Soviets to choke and collapse. The smell they encountered instead was so unexpected they all gagged. 

Lemon tart. It was more dessert than floor cleaner, rich and creamy, guaranteed that it would melt in your mouth and tingle the entire time. More than enough sugar to make it palatable but not so much that it would make your teeth feel filmy. Belikov, an alpha, closed his eyes as he sniffed the air, instincts telling him to find the source of the smell. Adler’s nose was tilted up too, tasting the air with short breaths as he searched alongside the alpha. An omega in heat, in the middle of a KGB bunker, let alone one that headquartered the notorious Soviet special forces, was not a good sign.

Bell, with dawning horror, realized the smell came from them. They dropped the helmet they picked up, their hands flying to the scent blockers that were applied hours ago. It was nowhere near time for the patches to lose adhesion. Even so, Bell was a beta. All signs pointed to them being a beta.

Adler was the first out of the trio to collect himself and realize what was going on. “Bell, come here.”

They didn’t have a choice when Adler manhandled them closer, hands deftly batting away Bell’s while he inspected the patches himself. Bell could see him grimace from the corner of their vision before they felt the sting of the adhesive scent blocker be ripped from their skin. Adler then did the same with one of his own, adhering it to Bell and pressed down the edges of the patch with bruising force.

In any other instance Bell would be embarrassed by the whimper they let out. It felt nice to be touched. Bell was delusional enough to believe Adler might press against their mating gland. It was so close to where Adler’s fingers were anyway. The thought made them go weak in the knees because they half expected teeth to follow the press of fingers. Adler gave one final clap to Bell’s shoulder to bring them back to reality. 

He stepped back to admire the handiwork, sniffing the air once again. Adler’s brows pinched and his face twisted into a frown, and he stepped even closer to Bell. 

Bell couldn’t startle away from how quickly their space was invaded by the beta. Not that Adler would have let them back away, a firm hand now cupping the back of Bell’s neck to hold them in place so they stood chest to chest. The stale air of the bunker, the sting of the gas that still lingered, and the sugar-lemon of Bell’s scent faded as Adler overwhelmed Bell’s senses.

The beta wasn’t still during this odd embrace. Adler’s shoulders rocked side-to-side, pressing forward against Bell while Adler’s chin hooked over their shoulder. 

It lasted for less than a minute. Russian echoed down the halls, letting them know they were about to get overwhelmed again. “Let’s get up top.” Adler’s voice was gruffer than usual. 

Bell fumbled with their gear as they pulled it on. Their fingers felt clumsy and numb as heat boiled deep in their stomach. Bell no longer smelled like a lemon dessert, the scent blocker that Adler put on them did a decent job of covering up the smell, but now Adler’s scent was prominent against Bell’s clothes. It was something rare before now, often hidden behind a leather jacket and cigarette smoke. Bell brought up the side of the jacket that Adler scented and made no effort to hide they were drinking down the beta’s scent. It was light, vaguely floral. Poppies?

They didn’t have time to dwell over what flower Adler’s scent derived from. As soon as his armor was secured Adler put himself between Bell and the alpha they shared the elevator with. Belikov kept glancing between them as the elevator rose. The alpha’s brows knitted together underneath his helmet, holding his pilfered gun with both hands as he watched the two in front of him. 

“Not a word.” Adler spat as soon as he saw Belikov’s mouth open to attempt asking a question. “No one can know about this.”

“People are going to know about an omega in heat.” His voice was strained. Belikov kept trying to look around the beta, at Bell, in an attempt to confirm what he smelled earlier. “All of the KGB are alphas. You just put a beacon on our escape.”

Adler kept blocking the Soviet, maintaining a threatening posture. “And I fixed it.”

“Not by much.” Belikov gestured at the rising number on the elevator. “Everything is locked down. We are going to be going through the main lobby! If that one gets captured–”

The beta snarled at him. “They won’t. We keep moving towards the courtyard once we leave the elevator.” He pointed a harsh finger at the alpha. “And remember, Bell’s condition is a need to know basis.” Adler clutched his radio and brought it up to his mouth. “Lazar, southwest courtyard in five minutes. And Belikov is hitching a ride.”

“Plenty of room in the backseat.”

 Lazar’s voice was clipped and static-filled. Bell must have busted their own radio sometime during their mad dash through the bunker. They barely remembered half of what they had already gone through. Bell finally pulled their nose away from where Adler scented the jacket underneath all of the armor they donned. They felt miserable, feverish, and a little sweaty. Adler glanced towards Bell and frowned before checking his own gear. 

“Here.” Adler pulled out a detonation remote, placing it in Bell’s hands and made sure they held it. “Get the charge ready. Once we get through here it’s a straight shot home.” The beta looked grim as the elevator gave a soft chime, signalling that they had arrived at their designated floor. 

“And remember, Bell, we got a job to do.”

“In heat!” Lazar had shouted dozens of times during the trip back to West Berlin. The alpha’s hands were white-knuckled as he drove. Adler suspected that if Lazar wasn’t busy driving he would have thrown a punch at him as soon as they lost all the tailing Soviets. The team couldn’t risk Bell’s condition worsening and had to take a far more direct route than they were supposed to. They had to drive the entire eighteen hours from Moscow to West Berlin in one go. They only stopped to refill on gas, with the exception of dropping Belikov off with a CIA contact as they switched vehicles.

Adler grit his teeth. It didn’t help that Lazar knew the least about Bell’s affliction. It was considered a tactical advantage to have Bell believe they were a beta: increased stability, less of a chance to get compromised, and it allowed MK Ultra programming to have a stronger hold. Adler only knew about beta experiences in Vietnam anyway. Bell’s scent was bitter after brainwashing, closer to underripe citrus, which hid their omega nature even further. With the proposed timeline to take down Perseus, Adler would only need to keep up this beta ruse with Bell for less than three months, and then the omega would be surrendered to some sick researcher to see what the after effects of MK Ultra would be. 

Bell wasn’t supposed to go into heat during this timeframe. Every fucking medical check that happened on the omega, starting from when they were recovered from Arash’s firey end through every step of MK Ultra, it all pointed towards Bell being well outside of their heat cycle. Predictions for Bell’s next heat was estimated to be around late April. It was still the first week of March. 

All the beta could do now is sit in the backseat of the car and curse at himself. He smelled something off about Bell when they geared up for Lubyanka. Adler dismissed it as nerves about the mission and the prior confrontation with Hudson. 

Adler hated admitting he was wrong about things. 

There was a soft mumble from the omega. After using the trigger phrase on Bell, it was enough to get them to finish the mission and land in the getaway vehicle. They even shot at a few Soviets as Lazar peeled down the tunnel. Adler hadn’t been lucky enough for the short burst of control to last as long as he wanted. The scent patches could be reapplied as Lazar gassed up, and Bell could be ordered to focus again with the trigger phrase, but when Bell started to get cozy with Belikov in the back seat the beta had to come clean about what transpired during the mission. Thankfully they were almost to the drop off for the alpha. A lack of alphas in the backseat didn’t stop Bell from seeking relief. 

Bell had shrugged off most of the layers that they wore during the mission. The discarded clothes circled the omega’s hips in a makeshift nest. Adler barely managed to convince Bell to keep their pants on, but the omega had removed their shirt entirely. To ensure modesty, and that Lazar didn’t crash the car because the omega’s chest was bare, Adler laid his jacket on top of Bell as a makeshift blanket. 

Bell buried their face into the collar of the leather jacket, unsubtly huffing the scent. There were a few times where Adler had to tug the hem of the jacket down because Bell’s fucking underwear was visible through their unbuttoned pants. 

They mumbled again, likely a call for an alpha. It was some a-word. Adler was still trying to figure out how to deal with this setback. He could offer up Bell to one of the alphas in the safe house; all of them were mateless and might be willing to help out a packmate. A few knots should get Bell out of their heat and they could continue hunting Perseus. If all three alphas refused Adler could just lock Bell in a room with a dildo and pray their MK Ultra programming didn’t break, and that it could be easily reestablished. During the hours of transport, maybe Park managed to concoct something that would end Bell’s heat early. Some M16 secret privy only to her. 

“Adler…”

His focus snapped to the omega. “Bell.” 

Bell’s eyes were foggy and rimmed with tears. It was a pathetic sight. If Adler wasn’t at Bell’s side the entire time, it would be impossible to believe this was the same person dropping Soviets by the shot. Bell downed more men than both Adler and Belikov combined during their escape, not that the beta was counting. He couldn’t during the action. He knew Bell held point most of the time, and when Adler entered a room behind them there were more dead than living. 

“Adler…” Bell’s words were half slurred. 

“What’s wro–” Adler immediately cut his words off.

While his jacket covered most of Bell’s modesty, it had to be adjusted constantly. It was the other reason Adler was in the backseat instead of sitting shotgun with Lazar. If the jacket slipped down too far, Bell’s entire chest would be out. If the jacket got shrugged up too high a flash of underwear and the patch of wet slick staining Bell’s pants would be visible. This time, Adler saw Bell was groping themself in an attempt to alleviate the worst of their heat symptoms.

Adler grabbed the omega’s wrist. “Stop that,” He commanded. Lazar already had a hard enough time focusing on the road while a mewling omega sat less than two feet away from him. Whatever discipline instilled in him would eventually hit its limit. Faster, if Bell started masturbating. 

“Bell, we got a–” Adler swallowed back the trigger phrase. He used it liberally to get Bell from the elevator into their getaway vehicle. He had to use the trigger to make Bell think they were a beta for a little bit longer after the explosion rocked everyone in its vicinity. Any more and Bell will begin to have a different association, and it would be disastrous to Adler’s project as a whole. “A little bit longer, and you’ll be in a proper nest.” He gently pulled at Bell’s wrist. If Adler wasn’t careful, the sweet-lemon-cake smell of Bell’s slick would get exponentially more potent in the car. 

Bell let out a high-pitch, desperate whine that raised the hair on the back of Adler’s neck. He yanked Bell into his arms as Lazar stomped on the car’s brakes launching everyone forward. Adler’s shoulder ached from his impact against the seat in front of him. It was better than Bell getting a bloody nose and whining even more. 

A deep growl rumbled from the front seat. The control Lazar exuded had  snapped with the sound of Bell’s distress. Alpha instincts told him to remove the object, or person, that was causing the in-heat omega to make that noise. It would be very easy for Lazar to snap Adler’s neck and abandon the mission to take care of Bell’s discomfort. 

Adler growled back in return. It was tinny and hollow compared to the alpha’s, but it was enough to pull Lazar out of his instincts before the man decided to act on them. 

Lazar let out another growl, frustration more than threat, and the car rolled forward again. “Keep them in check.” Was all the man said, his eyes returning to the road. 

The beta kept still for a few more moments, a tense wait to see if there was a price for Lazar backing down, before he shifted back to sit properly. Adler's back smarted from how he twisted over the omega. Bell’s eyes were closed from the sudden stop as they clung to Adler. Clothes that Bell used as a nest were now on the car floor. The omega didn’t seem to care now that they sat on the beta’s lap, face pressed against Adler as the drive continued. He could feel the deep inhales Bell made as they tried to drown in Adler’s faint scent. There wasn’t much Adler could do to dissuade Bell in the moment. He had to keep both hands on the omega’s hips so they didn’t grind against his thigh. 

All three of them still had to drive for several more hours. 

There was no reprieve for Adler when they parked at the safe house. His scent had thoroughly mingled with Bell’s from the hours-long scenting. There was a body-warm wet patch that soaked through his jeans where Bell straddled his thigh. While the omega kept their hands around first and second base, there were a few times Adler did swat away touches that wandered lower than they should. 

The car trip was tense the entire time. When Adler’s stony facade failed to keep Lazar from glancing back, Adler's growls reminded the alpha what he should focus on instead of the omega in Adler’s lap. At the safehouse, the beta would be outnumbered. If the other alphas decided that they wanted Bell, there was little Adler could do to keep the omega by his side. He hoped Park did her part with damage control with the intel he sent at their last stop several hours ago. 

Adler didn’t comment on Lazar’s crooked parking, nor how quickly the man exited the vehicle. Adler waited a few heartbeats to make sure that Lazar didn’t circle the car. Adler prayed to any deity that would hear him that the alpha would go straight to the safe house. The diminishing sound of footsteps on gravel meant that Adler could let out a sigh of relief. 

“Bell, you need to get off of me.”

Bell had stopped squirming at some point during the drive. Their breathing had evened, but the sweet smell of heat had not dulled in the slightest. It started to make Adler lightheaded from how potent the scent had grown. Even more so with his nose being so close to Bell’s uncovered scent glands. Adler knew that the omega fell asleep; the energy expended from handling a high-stakes mission alongside their condition, Adler was surprised that Bell remained awake as long as they did. The omega being unconscious did help curb some of Lazar’s instincts as he drove those final hours. 

“Bell.” Adler patted their back. “Wake up.” 

There was no response. The thought of using the trigger phrase simmered in the back of Adler’s mind. Would it work while Bell was unconscious? He never had the opportunity to test it out before.

“Bell–”

Bell murmured something, shifting in Adler’s lap to get more comfortable. 

“We’re back on base.” Adler kept his voice low. “We’ll get you into a nest, and then we can deal with this, okay?”

They shifted again, sitting up so they weren’t draped against Adler’s chest. The chill of the early March air made the two of them shiver. Bell even more so, half naked underneath the paltry cover Adler’s jacket provided. The vehicle’s heat had been mediocre at best, but it prevented the worst of the winter wind from leaking into the cab. Lazar’s swift exit gave them a preview of the bitter cold beyond the glass. 

Adler tried to keep his voice even and friendly as Bell burrowed against him once more. “Come on, wear this properly and then we’ll get you paired with some alpha, or sitting on something, to help.” With each word he had to swallow back the tension that threatened to break through. His own body ached from travel. He hadn’t been able to adjust in the past hour. There was a tingling feeling in his toes and a twinge in his lower back. Adler wanted to crawl into his own bed and recover from the strain of the past 48 hours. “Bell, I’m not fucking around. We need to get you to a nest–”

“I know.” The omega’s voice wavered as they spoke. “But you’re warm.” Bell’s cheek pillowed against Adler’s shoulder. “And you smell nice.” 

“Of course. But it’ll be quick, and when we get you somewhere where you can ride out your heat, I’ll get some of my clothes for your nest.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Adler didn’t want his things smelling like omega. He didn’t want to deal with any of this. Hell, this shouldn’t’ve happened at all. Everything was plotted so Bell would be long out of his life when their heat started. “Anything you want. Still got your shoes on?” 

Bell nodded and sat back up. 

It was a ridiculous dance between the two of them to get Bell wearing Adler’s jacket properly. Adler knew some things about omega heats, he did pay attention in sex ed, but he never had to put any knowledge to practice. His ex-wife was an alpha and they never completed their trio before divorcing. Adler knew there was a loss of coordination in an omega’s movement, that muscles tightened and strained along an omega’s thighs and back to the point of cramps forming, and that an omega’s body increased in temperature. The latter is why the phenomenon was dubbed a “heat”, from how feverish omegas ended up. 

In hindsight, he should have caught on to the preheat symptoms Bell showed. Bell becoming that compromised in a location with that many alphas around them would have been disastrous if Adler didn’t act in the elevator. Belikov’s performance as the three of them fled Lubyanka faltered once Bell’s heat made itself known and Adler had to be the driving force to get the three of them through the KGB lobby. If Bell’s heat had happened a week earlier while they were partnered with Woods in the middle of the Spetsnaz training facility, without a beta around to mitigate, the mission would have been disastrous. 

Adler found himself wrinkling his nose at the thought of Woods being the one to sate Bell’s heat. Maybe that was why he brought up that Woods was already with another person. With Bell believing that he was a beta at the time, it was the easiest solution to keep them focused on taking down Perseus. Now that the cat was out of the bag on Bell’s real dynamic, there was little Adler could do to prevent the omega from pursuing the alpha and beta duo. The easy camaraderie he heard over the radio between Bell and Woods meant there was a chance that the two would take the omega far, far away from Adler. The two men already barely trusted Adler. If Mason and Woods formed a trio with Bell, Adler would never see the omega again.

He didn’t realize he was snarling until a gentle hand rested against his cheek. Wool gloves with the forefinger and thumb cut off. 

The adoration in Bell’s eyes made Adler’s stomach flip. In a bad way. 

Adler pulled the zipper up Bell’s front, holding it away to not pinch any skin, and patted them on the shoulder. “It’s a short walk. Ready?”

Bell nodded. They dismounted Adler’s thigh, sitting in their own seat for the first time in hours. 

Adler kicked open his door to leave the cab. His side was closer to the entrance of the safe house, and he would rather have Bell scoot towards him instead of walking around the vehicle. 

Bell shrunk back from the cold. They let out another whine, which Alder promptly hushed. 

“None of that. Stay quiet and it’ll be quicker.” The beta held out a hand to help Bell. The damp patch of slick on his pants felt frozen. It was going to be worse for Bell, who had a far larger wet patch against a more sensitive area. If Bell gave any indication that it was too much to handle, instead of a single alpha to fend off Adler would have to deal with three. 

Adler doubted that Park would assist to make peace if Bell showed any distress. She wasn’t trained for that type of conflict in the same way Adler was. He knew how to mitigate that type of aggression. Although, Adler was trained in keeping alphas away from false omega targets. He had never needed to guide an omega through a group of alphas. 

Bell stepped out of the vehicle. Adler made sure that the omega had a firm hold on him before closing the door. There weren't any obstacles they had to worry about in the car park. Any frozen oil and ice patches were broken up by the rough gravel that surrounded the safe house. Bell was unsteady enough on their feet without having to worry about any additional obstacles. 

The cold was at least a good motivator for them to move quickly. Bell whined once more when the wind picked up and the cold cut through their clothes like a slew of icy knives. They silenced themself without any warning from Adler. 

The beta shouldered open the side door. Opening up the bay would let out far too much heat, and he wanted it to be as warm as possible for Bell. He waited for a heartbeat in the threshold. When he wasn’t affronted, he brought Bell in the rest of the way and closed the door behind them. More than enough heat leached out from his hesitation. Adler could hear the furnace kick on in the depths of the safe house. He would rather the furnace work overtime than be immediately ambushed by the alphas of the team at this point. Adler could navigate both of them to Bell’s room without being noticed if he was fast enough. It would be easier to deal with the team once Bell was secured. 

“Adler.”

Son of a bitch.

“Hudson.” Adler knew his appearance was less than his usual suave persona. “I didn’t expect that you wanted a mission debrief so soon. I haven’t even kicked off my shoes yet.”

While the beta had about an inch of height on Hudson, the alpha was built like a brick shithouse. And unlike Adler, Hudson had significantly more combat experience before entering the CIA. The way the alpha was standing made Adler’s hackles raise despite fighting to keep a cool demeanor. 

“Bell was not supposed to go into the field.” Hudson sniffed the air. “And they’re compromised–”

“They weren’t.” Adler’s jaw felt tight. “This happened after. The mission was a success.”

“Not from what Lazar told us.” Hudson’s face twisted into a frown as he continued sniffing the air. “It smells like they’ve been in heat for much longer than it takes to get back from Russia. If memory serves correctly.” Hudson lowered his sunglasses. “Bell shouldn’t be in heat now. At all, according to the files given to the team.”

Adler bared his teeth at the alpha. “Because it was classified. Bell’s dynamic was need-to-know. Now–”

“Now we have two other alphas in the next room over pacing because they can smell a distressed omega. A distressed omega that they recognize.” He emphasized the last word. “This entire thing could come down around our ears because you didn’t have the foresight–”

He cut the man off, raising his voice. “Do not undermine me on my own operation.” Adler made sure that his body was between Hudson and Bell. He loathed how the other man kept tasting the air for Bell’s scent. “There are contingencies. Bell’s room is set up for heats.”

“Bell’s room is a former rut room.” Hudson countered. 

Adler didn’t let up. “It serves the same purpose. So if you’ll excuse me, I'll take care of this.” 

The alpha moved directly in front of Adler. “Take care of it how, exactly.” Disdain dripped from Hudson’s voice. It wasn’t meant to be a question.

Adler could sense the man’s eyes narrowing behind his shades. “I’ll figure it out. Bell has to get to their room first.” He could feel the rumble of a growl form in his chest.

“You’re ill-equipped.” Hudson’s jab wasn’t sugarcoated in the slightest. “I’ll take Bell and–”

Rage spiked through Adler’s body, white hot and searing through his chest like a bullet wound. “I’ll take Bell. This is my project, and I'll be damned if someone else takes it from me.” 

The pigheaded alpha didn’t back down. If anything, his posture grew more threatening. Hudson’s clove-spice scent grew sharper and ballooned through the room, as if the man grew twice his size. When Adler refused to back down the alpha let out a deep rolling growl. It was different from Lazar’s. Hudson was a man used to being the head of a pack. This growl was deeper, echoing off the walls. If Adler wasn’t going to submit there would be worse consequences. 

Every part of Adler’s instincts squirmed for him to bare his neck, apologize, and hand over anything to appease the alpha in front of him. Adler refused to shy away.  It frightened him with how effective Hudson’s display was too. Adler hadn’t felt that pull from his instincts in a long time. 

The beta held Bell closer to himself. He hadn’t rolled over to any alpha in his career thus far. Adler was one of the highest ranking betas in the CIA because of that. His own posturing and growls against the alpha sounded pathetic in comparison, but like hell he would give up Bell to Hudson of all people in the safe house. 

Bell’s soft noise caused both men to freeze up. The two had forgotten their presence entirely despite the entire conflict surrounding them. Adler felt the omega’s weight sag, and he broke eye contact with Hudson to keep Bell on their feet. 

“Almost there Bell, just a bit longer.” Adler knew his words of comfort were hollow. 

He glanced towards Hudson. The alpha’s brows were furrowed deep, sunglasses unable to hide how far up the wrinkles on his forehead go into his scalp. “Fine.”

“Fine?” 

“Take Bell to their room.” Hudson stepped to the side, finally acquiescing to the beta. “When you’re done I want a full report on what caused this.” Hudson’s lip curled in disgust. “There is far more at stake than your little project.” He spat out the last word.

Adler passed by the man without sparing him a second glance. He picked up speed when Hudson let out another snarl. Adler was glad that Bell was so delirious that they wouldn’t remember the cowardly retreat.

The beta was half dragging Bell now. The omega’s scent spiked in sweetness again. It left Adler with the taste of lemon sugar on his tongue while navigating the halls. Another wave of heat had hit Bell as soon as Hudson let the two of them go. The sooner Adler had Bell behind the reinforced door of their room the better. He didn’t want another alpha to appear around a corner and have the encounter end with Bell presenting for sex. 

While Bell wasn’t expected to enter their heat, there were still precautions made if one of the alphas went into rut instead. Rut rooms were completely sealed, the door unable to budge once locked, so alphas didn’t make mistakes they would regret in their cognitively impaired state. There were safety latches where the door would swing open if an emergency would occur, but it was small and fine and unable to be located by a rutting alpha. Or a blissfully unaware omega in Bell’s case. Bell would have been locked in a spare repurposed rut room, their room, while whoever was rutting was subdued and taken to a different location. 

It was also a good prison cell if Bell’s programming ever broke. It was Adler’s main argument for why Bell was assigned the rut room in the first place. He wanted the safety latch jammed and so Bell would be trapped. Adler argued that he should have full authority for when Bell was allowed to roam around, but that suggestion was shot down by Park. Something about ensuring that Bell saw them as friends and not jailers.

He was glad that his suggestion was dismissed, now that he had to enter the room. By the time he got to Bell’s room he was half-carrying the omega. Adler was pretty sure they stopped picking up their legs and let their feet drag against the floor. The door swung open with ease, as much as an inch-thick sheet of metal could. 

Bell’s room looked… far more barren than an omega’s quarters should be. Rut rooms were generally more utilitarian than heat rooms – alphas didn’t show as much of a nesting instinct as omegas – but the gray unfinished concrete gave the room an unexpected coldness. It wasn’t undecorated or unlived in. Bell’s desk held various scattered papers and tchotchkes, with one of the many open notebooks sporting a half-deciphered code scrawled across its pages. There was a chair that held an open duffle bag, mostly empty, in the corner. Bell’s bed was unmade. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the missing clothes from the duffle bag were all piled on the bed, pushed into a lopsided circle. Blankets, towels, and one of Adler’s missing jackets were woven into the pile as well. 

An omega nest. 

Adler continued to silently curse at himself, and hauled Bell towards the bed. These were things he should have caught earlier. He was the one that spent the most time with them, both for MK Ultra programming and during downtime to reinforce said programming. If there were cracks this drastic he should have caught it sooner. 

Bell landed in the nest with a quiet grunt. The omega recognized where they were immediately and their wilted demeanor from before dissipated. They started kneading and adjusting the small nest with renewed energy. Bell pawed at their pants to take them off, getting them down to mid thigh before giving up and yanking down their underwear without caring about Adler’s presence. When Bell’s hand dove between their legs and their fingers sank into the hole there Adler knew he was forgotten about.

“Alright.” Adler said to no one in particular. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

The beta looked around the room to see if there was anything else to do before he could leave Bell and seal the room. Heats last a few days. Keeping Bell quartered away meant the operation would be delayed by a trivial amount of time. Maybe a full day at most. Park didn’t have the same decoding finesse, but between himself and the M16 agent, they could get something done while Bell was down. 

“Adler.”

“Don’t say my name when you’re knuckle deep.”

Bell sighed. They probably didn’t process Adler’s warning. 

The beta shook his head. Omegas need to be comfortable for their heat to pass quickly. “I’m gonna take off your boots.” 

Adler closed the door and sat at the edge of the nest, placing Bell’s booted feet in his lap to undo the laces. It was easy enough to keep his eyes down as he worked at his task. He could tune out the wet noises of the omega masturbating but not the sight. When each boot was removed it was gracelessly deposited on the ground. Even less tact was used to remove Bell’s pants.

Something compelled Adler to leave his jacket on Bell. 

Bell’s heels were pressed against the edge of their nest, legs bent so that they were on full display. Adler could barely believe the omega’s thighs were already shining with slick. If Bell was on their front instead of on their back, they would be in a perfect mounting pose to be bred by an alpha, or a beta like himself. Adler shook his head before even letting the consideration settle in his mind. Bell was nothing more than a pet project. This would be crossing a line that he couldn’t walk away from. If he got Bell knocked up–

“Adler…” Bell whined. Their face was turned to the side, nose pressed into the collar of the beta’s jacket they still wore. 

Adler scrubbed his face with his hand. He had heard that the more an omega orgasms the shorter their heat is. Or was it a rumor that alphas liked to parade around? He wasn’t sure, and there was no way for him to check that on a short notice. 

“Remember, you asked for this. Christ, you’re wearing my jacket and you have another tucked in here.” Adler justified out loud as he disrobed. “Practically huffing my scent while we drove from Russia. You barely let go of me when we switched vehicles.”

Bell only whined in response. 

He shrugged off his shirt. “You don’t have anything from the rest of the pack in there right? I’m not going to end up with my face in one of Park’s blouses, or Sim’s shirts, or someone’s pants.” Adler draped his shirt over Bell’s chair. 

“No.” Bell’s voice was breathy. “Just you.” 

That threw Adler for a loop. “Just me?” He hated how soft and yearning his voice sounded. Borderline hopeful. Even his ex-wife had items from other people added to their shared nest.

A particularly wet squelch came from Bell, resulting in a moan. Adler didn’t think it was an orgasm, but the idea that the omega was getting off with just the thought of him created a heat deep in his stomach. 

He cleared his throat. “Tell me Bell.” Adler demanded, tone harder than before. 

“Just you.” Bell didn’t change the movement of their hand, but Adler swore he could see more slick rolling out of the omega. “Just you.” The omega repeated. 

It was enough conviction for Adler to stumble out of his pants and join Bell in their nest. 

The nest was small even for its single occupant. Folded into thirds, the omega still overflowed its boundaries. The hand that wasn’t masturbating dangled off the side of the bed. Bell’s head lolled over the edge, the full length of their neck exposed. If their legs were straightened they would easily fall past the edge of the nest. It took finesse on Adler’s end to not accidentally elbow Bell, or have his knees press anywhere tender as he crawled on top of them. 

He had seen Bell naked before. The omega’s reports pointed out every flaw on their skin. It had been clinical observations. Someone had to write all of it down and Adler was the first volunteer. 

This, with Bell flushed from their cheeks down to their shoulders, back arched while caged between Adler’s arms, trying to thrust up to get the beta to pay attention to where they were the most sensitive, was a situation Adler never expected to be in. He anticipated dozens of other outcomes. He never pictured this scenario when hauling Bell’s limp body through broken glass and burning fuel after taking down Arash. 

Bell let out a high-pitch whine that snapped Adler back into the moment. Their eyes shone with unshed tears.

He finally took pity on Bell and pressed their hips together. There wasn’t any finesse with the movement. Adler started at a bruising pace to bully an orgasm out of the omega. The goal wasn’t to draw out Bell’s pleasure, Bell’s suffering, it was to get the omega relief as quickly as possible. It would be a challenge since Adler lacked any knot an alpha would have provided. His only boon was that Bell was so wet and slick and hot around him that knotting might not even be necessary. 

A few times Adler laid his body across Bell, pressing the omega against their nest to mouth along Bell’s neck. They tasted as good as they smelled. Each tease of teeth led to Bell clawing red lines down the beta’s back. They proved an excellent distraction that prevented Adler from cumming before the omega. His mostly-celibate lifestyle significantly hindered his stamina.

It felt like too long, and not long enough, before Bell’s whines turned into half-formed pleas. Half of it sounded like it was in Russian. It was some combination of can’t, more, and Adler’s own name. If Adler was in the right mind he would attempt to decipher what Bell was saying. Unfortunately, he was matching Bell to the syllable with his own responses, and processed his own words even less. 

Adler could feel the wet gush of Bell’s orgasm seconds before his own. Both of their bodies weren’t able to hold back any longer. Adler’s own vision whited out, darkness creeping in threatened to overtake and knock the beta unconscious from how intense his climax was.

He sagged against Bell once he was wrung dry. The omega fared far worse with their own release; eyelashes wet with tears, a trail of drool shining from a slack jaw, their entire body trembling from oversensitivity. By Adler’s projection, the omega had likely started their heat after they arrived at Lubyanka well over eighteen hours ago. This was the first time that Bell had finally climaxed. 

The relative ease of getting Bell to orgasm did stroke Adler’s ego just a hair.  Without a knot he was able to satisfy an omega in heat.

Adler rolled out of the nest and Bell voiced their displeasure with a whine. Everything reeked of lemon and florals and sex. Adler could already feel the crust of dried sweat and slick on his body and wanted it cleaned off as soon as possible. Without any knot to tie him and Bell together, he was free to move about the small quarters. The burn from fucking made his legs feel like jelly as he stumbled towards Bell’s bathroom. 

The omega let out a louder whine. If Adler was an alpha, it would’ve been enough to call him back to the nest and indulge Bell with cuddles and aftercare. 

“Soldier up, Bell.” Alder winced when the fluorescent bathroom lights were flicked on. It was much brighter than the lights in Bell’s room. “We need to keep things clean until this is over or there will be worse consequences.” 

Bell responded with a huff. A few moments later they sat up in their nest and followed Adler. 

The two had been sealed together in Bell’s room for the past day and a half, with a dozen orgasms shared between them during that time. By the time Bell came back to their senses the omega found themself pleasantly sore. Adler, being knotless, still managed to help Bell through the entirety of their heat. Their memory was fuzzy for the beginning, but Bell always got a bit of brain fog during their preheat. 

They sat at their desk wearing loose clothes that were pilfered from the remains of their nest. Bell had Adler’s jacket around their shoulders and enjoyed how it was body-warm and smelled like both of them.

“Should be the last of it.” The beta tossed a final shirt into the laundry basket. The nest was half deconstructed. Adler insisted on picking out anything that was dirtied from sex to be washed. Something about his own instincts going crazy if things remained too dirty, or if he rested for too long after a round of sex. 

Betas were supposed to act as support for omegas and alphas during the days filled with cramps, high emotions, and even higher libidos. Bell remembered when they got a bad batch of suppressants in Vietnam and Adler was the one to help Bell recover. It wasn’t a full heat that they experienced all those years ago, but having someone to keep watch to not be interrupted mid-masturbation helped provide peace of mind. Adler was also the one to make sure that Bell got access to one of the old rut rooms in the safehouse, repurposed into a makeshift heat room, once he heard that Bell was supposed to have their heat during the timeline to hunt Perseus down. It made Bell feel better about being reunited with the man over a decade later. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Bell moved to stand up, wincing from the strain in their thighs and back. 

Adler’s head shot up, eyes narrowing. “Drink and eat. You didn’t get food nearly as often as you should have.”

The omega rolled their eyes, ignoring the persistent ache in their right eye. They had felt it ever since their heat ended, waking up sweaty in their nest pressed against Adler. The beta assured Bell that it was just a nightmare, and for Bell to rest because their heat was difficult from the cold. Bell tried to calm their bounding heart. They swore they smelled Park’s and Lazar’s scents against their skin. It was impossible because the heat room had been sealed for days. 

Adler hefted the laundry basked up from the floor. It overflowed with shirts, pants, blankets, towels, even a few of Adler’s own clothes, and made it an awkward carry. 

Bell lowered their bottle of water. “I can still help.”

“No, no.” Adler lifted it so that it sat on Bell’s bed, grunting from the effort. “I got this.” He stepped back to look at it better. “It’s not heavy, just big.”

Bell hummed, pretending to agree. Adler always bit off more than he could chew, and always managed to swallow it against all odds every single time. Laundry, apparently, wasn’t an exception to his modus operandi. 

“I have a question.” Bell said as they unwrapped a granola bar.

The beta tilted their head to the side, a silent gesture for Bell to keep speaking. 

“What would you do if I was a beta too?” 

Adler seemed to freeze. He didn’t quite turn to Bell, but Bell could feel every inch of attention on them.

“I mean, Vietnam would have been a little different. I would have been in another tent, for one, and I’m not sure we would have been this close.” Bell tried to clarify. Each word only fell into the awkward void between them now. To shut themself up they took a bite of food. “Just a hypothetical.”

“Is that what your nightmare was about?” The beta sounded cautious. 

“Being a beta wouldn’t be bad.” Bell emphasized as they chewed, trying to not disparage Adler’s own dynamic. They swallowed before they spoke again. “Maybe? I don’t remember too much of what I dreamt about.”

Adler moved to grab the handles of the laundry basket, hesitated, and stepped back again. “You did say that you tended to get nightmares at the end of your heat. And being a beta isn’t so bad.” Adler placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t understand how omegas deal with all of,” He gestured at the remains of Bell’s nest. “All of that.”

Bell let out a sunny laugh. “It’s easy when you have a lifetime of experience. Now let me help you carry that so you aren’t puzzling over it all day.”

“Whatever.”

“Why the fuck does it smell like an omega in here?” Woods’s harsh voice echoed through the safe house. 

“Because Bell just had their heat.”

“I thought Bell was a beta! I ran a goddamn mission with them!”

“Bell’s always been an omega.” Adler took a drag from his cigarette. He could still smell their lemon-sweet scent staining his favorite jacket. “Maybe you’re misremembering things, Woods.”