Chapter Text
The way the grim lighting glowed from outside onto the worn books lined like disobedient soldiers, echoing on the faces of the family court in front, Tommy would have thought he was about to be sentenced to death. Thankfully, after living with them for all of his life, he understood that the Watson family lived a bit differently from any other, and their stone faces weren’t usually so bad. And today certainly wasn’t.
The library was quiet, but like a still water with a dark current running underfoot. Scents mingled; a breath of fresh air as wise as an old lion, the iron tang of blood, and a delicate paperiness of old scrolls. And soon Tommy would have his own scent. As he shuffled on his feet, excited and nervous, feeling their stares, he wondered what his own would smell like. Would it be as jumpy as the music he liked to listen to? Or as potent as his loud boasting?
“Today’s the day, mate” came the first words, finally. His father, Philza, stepped up and the fresh wind moved with him till it was enveloping Tommy in a hug. He wrapped his arms around his father’s back, the final hug before his entire life changed for good. “I can’t believe those years went by so quickly.”
“That wasn’t quick, Dadza!” Tommy protested, pulling back. Still, the calm alpha scent surrounded them both, chewing off the worst of his nerves. “It took eighteen whole years!”
His second oldest brother snorted. “Don’t you know time is relative, Tommy? Or have I taught you nothing?”
He turned to Wilbur, grinning. Yes, he did remember all those lessons. All those times Wilbur would allow him into the room while he composed a new musical piece. Often he would get poetic about it too, sighing how one girl’s heartbreak could be felt in twenty different ways by fifty different people. Or how one stance for freedom might echo in the hearts of dozens of others who desire for a better life no matter where they are or what their situation looks like.
“People are made of the same cookie cutter,” he often liked to say. “Some doughs are made with chocolate chips, others are left plain. Some might be chipped off in the corner while others are full. But we grieve in the same way, and we laugh for the same joy. Never forget this, Tommy: in many ways we can be different, but we’re more alike than we may think.”
And he listened. Whenever Wilbur got in the mood to let him into his mind and let him see a cheat sheet into the world, he would shut up and actually pay attention. He was eight years older than Tommy and with a good amount of bad experiences, enough to fill the sheets of his songs he so loved to make.
“I promise I haven’t,” he said, and it warmed his heart to see the rare smile that wormed its way onto Wilbur’s face that wasn’t from his own music.
“Attaboy.”
Next, he turned his attention to the oldest brother who stood still as a statue. His pink hair was tied back into a braid that cascaded down his back and a crown glinted on top of his head, winking with jewels. But it wasn’t just for looks. The styled hair was kept away by choice, and the crown was a symbol of his strength, and alpha might. Techno was every alpha’s drooling dream of a fit, muscular body and the stamina for days. Tommy was proud to say that he was a one man army, a legend in any and every battlefield he came into contact with.
Even chess.
Holding Techno’s red eyes, he saw the flash of a mutual agreement. “I think he’ll do well as an alpha,” Techno conceded. “Considering he has Watson blood.”
Wilbur pouted. “Come on, I can’t be the only beta in the family!”
Tommy laughed, rich and quick as he puffed out his chest. “Of course I’ll do well as an alpha!” he said. Running a hand through his blonde, curly hair, he added, “Look at me! I’m popular, smart, and I’m the captain of the volleyball team! There ain’t nobody that can beat me!”
“Nobody said you couldn’t be successful as a beta,” he snapped, crossing his arms.
Philza patted the air as his fresh wind scent swooped through the room, smoothing down the invisible ruffled feathers. “All right you all,” he said with a face full of a smile. The wrinkles on his face showed he had lived a life full of difficulties in his forehead, but also a life full of smiles based on the crinkle around his eyes. “This is Tommy’s birthday and he’s going to find out his second gender soon. We shouldn’t hold him up for long. Now.” Slipping off his dark green robe, he handed it over with grace. “Here is my sweater, and I hope it brings you ease.” Techno grunted and with Wilbur also removed their robes that were full of their scent.
As Tommy took them his hands shook, though he hid it in a smile. With all of his family’s scents now gathered in his arms, his first rut wouldn’t be so hard. He’s heard the stories of people without families getting their first rut or heat and nearly dying because nothing helped to ease their stress. The joy of having a second gender often hid the fact that the same day held a lot of pain and body changes not everyone was expecting.
But he would be okay. He had a loving family who gave him their scents to soothe him, and they were nearby to give him food and water for however long this would last him. The only thing still nagging him was the fact that whatever happened today, his life would revolve around it.
“We’ll see you soon, my son,” Philza said softly, patting his shoulder strongly. “Whatever you are, we’re already proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dadza,” he said, clutching the robes tighter. And in his head he promised he wouldn’t disappoint.
“Go show ‘em,” Techno said, nodding.
Wilbur was the only one that came up for a hug. “Don’t forget,” he reminded him, like Tommy could possibly wipe out his memory within that upcoming week. A lot could happen, sure, but not that.
“I won’t,” he promised him, chuckling as they parted. “After all, I’m your biggest fan!”
And with that he was free to spin around and head up to his room, leaving the silent, slightly dusty library to his cozy room where he shut and locked the door behind himself. Staring at the robes in his arms, he shrugged and dumped them on his wrinkled bed, figuring that was the best place to put it for now. It wasn’t a nest, not even close, but it still brought comfort and safety to him.
So now all he had to do was wait.
From what he knew, some heats and ruts didn’t happen until a day later. It depended on how in-tune their body was from the moment of their birth until now. Everything had a cycle, and getting their second gender was no different.
As Tommy settled into his desk chair, he once again stared at the innocent paper on the wood top. A casual pen lay beside it, ready to be picked up and used so the paper would be signed. Even though his fingers itched to just do it already, he huffed out a breath and forced himself to look away rather than be tempted by the Society Declaration.
Which left him nothing else to do except to practice his habit. Splaying his fingers wide he raised his hand to be palm-up before quickly grouping his fingers together into a triangle. A flash of yellow light burst from his hand and shot to the ceiling, dissipating upon contact in a faint yellow cloud till nothing. Pivoting his hand he shot them across his room at his pillows, his mirror, his monster of leftover clothes in a bundle left on the floor.
Absent-mindedly, he shot some other things in his room, watching as they recoiled softly from his shots, when a faint scent began to creep into his subconscious. Lavender. It smelled sweet and potent all at once, and he paused when he finally registered it. He remembered that scent but from where?
Picking himself up, he made his way to the pile of clothes on the floor and rifled through them, quickly finding the sore thumb in his red sweaters, tan khakis, white shirts, and black shorts. A purple hoodie.
“Oh,” he said to himself, remembering when Purpled had come around earlier in the week so they could finish the project for school. They only had two months left of school until they were done, him, Purpled, Tubbo, and Ranboo. He had forgotten to give it back and somehow it landed in his own clothes pile, forgotten. He’d have to give it back soon.
But then he hesitated. The scent . . . Tommy didn’t want to let go of it, and he didn’t know why. Checking over his shoulder he stared at the sweater again, rubbing the fabric under his fingers. Soft and wearable. This was Purpled’s favorite sweater and Tommy saw him wearing it often to school. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt it . . ?
He pulled it over himself and purred deeply at the warmth it enveloped over his body, similar to that of his family’s scents. Did it feel wrong? Maybe. But did Tommy care? Not particularly. He did what he liked and everybody else could hate him all they want for it, but usually they’d just copy him anyway. Social pressure or something like that.
That’s when he began to feel a restless itching low in his stomach and his heart jolted. Fuck! It’s happening now! He wasn’t ready!
Leaping up he dashed for the door, only to grip the cold handle and freeze. What would Dadza say if he came whimpering back to him? Techno would make fun of him for sure, and Wilbur might even make a crappy song to torment his life forever.
No, his pride wouldn’t allow that. With a resigned huff he turned back to the bed and climbed on top, nuzzling his face into the scents of his blood relatives. And Purpled.
He still didn’t understand that one yet.
And it helped to ease some of his emotional pain and his muscles began to relax. Snuggling in deeper he sighed, and pulled the hood over his head to get more of the floral scent. He should have asked for Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s scent too, if the scents he already had helped him this much. He was assaulted with information based on whose clothing it was. Philza’s was fresh and excited, like a strong summer breeze in the evening. Techno’s was still iron-y, but the tang had lessened enough to tell he was happy. Wilbur’s was like stepping into a library that had been shut up for fifty years, but in the way that smelled good. And Purpled’s was relaxed, just like he had been when they were working on the project last Friday.
But was Purpled’s usually this sweet? Tommy only remembered getting a strong whiff of calm and luxury, but as he nosed deeper into the clothing he could almost smell the honey too.
The itch in his stomach slowly came back, no matter how deep he stuffed his face into the clothes. It wasn’t a particularly bad feeling he noted as he shifted, but it was the omen that was getting to his head. Within the day he would be somebody else.
But who would he be? Alpha Tommy Simons Watson? Or Beta Tommy Simons Watson? Heaven forbid Omega Tommy Simons Watson, but those didn’t particularly run in the Watson bloodline. No, their family blood was strong and rich so that even the betas were recognized under the same lamp as alphas for their fame and ingenuity.
Feeling mildly uncomfortable, Tommy huffed and sat up, wiping wet hair away from his forehead before he paused and drew his hand down to stare at the sweat. “Oh, I’m fuckin’ hot,” he chuckled, and shimmyed out of the sweater. The cool air attacked his feverish skin, and he could only hope all of this was good. Dadza had told him what it might feel like, and being hot was definitely one of the symptoms, but facing it all alone left the questions to ping-pong inside his head without a moment’s respite.
When he placed the sweater on the bed and away from him he felt worse. The low itching curled its clawed fingers into his stomach and he felt the beads of sweat on his chest drip down.
Lavender. He needed the lavender and he didn’t waste another second before he was all over it again, rubbing his jaw along the fabric to pull up more of that floral scent. Alpha, his mind purred and he got the stupid, irresistible urge to taste. Opening his mouth he licked the material, only to grumble under his breath when it didn’t taste warm or floral.
“Stupid piece of shit,” he muttered, glaring at the hoodie. But of course it wouldn’t taste good. It wasn’t actually Purpled. It didn’t have a warm, muscular body, or bright purple eyes, or the strong voice that could squeak to high pitches that was uncommon for alphas—
“SHIT!” he screamed, scrambling backwards and throwing the hoodie away from him like it was on fire and he stared at it in horror as it crumpled into a corner. Th-this wasn’t good. This was bad! Very bad! He shouldn’t be crushing over an alpha’s scent! Did that mean he was an omega?!
Adjusting his pants he whined and curled up in his family’s scents, and they helped to ease some of the embarrassment. But it somehow wasn’t enough. Whatever he wanted to believe, his brain already missed the other’s scent and punished him by making him hot all over again. Plus, the pain came roaring back in full force.
His brain was stuck. Flower. Flower. Bite flower. Even biting Philza’s green robe did nothing to alleviate his misery, and only added a jaw ache that made him want to bite worse.
In the end, his needs won out and he fell upon the hoodie with a growl, biting down hard like he could somehow mark the alpha through the cloth alone.
Mine.
~~~~~
In fact, Tommy did not want to talk about it.
Normally he could talk about a lot. He knew how to compose music and what the letters were for a guitar. He could argue the best fighting pose wasn’t to stick your sword out and make your movements readable but to be unpredictable. Hell, he knew how to be as diplomatic as his father in running the household. There were a lot of things he liked, and dozens of topics he could converse on, and all of those he would gladly yap about in a heartbeat.
But this would stick with him to the grave. And that was final.
Because Tommy Simons Watson was officially an alpha, and he had officially ruined Purpled’s sweater from ever being seen in the daylight again.
Nervously, he swallowed back the bottled water his family had left over from him and he tried to keep his eyes straight. Which was a fucking challenge when the problem of all this was lying in a corner, as bright as the sun in terms of a beacon.
On one hand he was satisfied. Three days in and his rut had finally broken so he was lucid enough to take care of himself, and those three days hadn’t been idle. Because inside his head he had successfully fucked a certain someone many times. But on the other hand he was terrified about what the implications were. Has one alpha ever loved another alpha’s scent before? Especially this early into his new life? Because he’s only heard this attraction about alphas and omegas. And he knew without a doubt he was an alpha, and Purpled’s scent alone dripped with the strong alpha scent, no matter how sweet it seemed.
Shakily capping the water he groaned and curled up into a smaller ball. The sheet dipped slightly and he picked it back up before the cold AC attacked his naked and sore body. Since he wasn’t sure how long this rest period was going to happen for, he didn’t bother putting on any clothes in case he ruined any of the expensive clothes his father had bought him.
Which brought him to another problem. Flicking his eyes away from the first problem, he winced when he saw the green and the red robes utterly shredded. He didn’t fully understand what happened, but he remembered feeling restless that two other alphas were too close to his Purpled and so he took that anger out on the clothes. So now those were ruined too.
And somehow Wilbur’s was completely fine. Apparently betas weren’t a problem for dominant alphas. Make it make sense.
He tore into the wrapped ham sandwich. “Ah!” he complained, licking the spot of blood on his lip. “Stupid fangs.” Those had actually come up pretty early, but in his state of rut they seemed to permanently show themselves off. The better to bite into fucking nobody, the vain bitches.
And then Tommy did it. His eyes jumped from his sandwich to the ruined hoodie as he swallowed. What used to be a perfectly fine and wearable clothing item was now stained with his fluids and sported too many holes from his fangs to be normal. Even from the distance of fifty feet he could see everything he did to it and he winced, looking away just as quickly. The thing was mangled. Would Purpled have been just as marked-up?
Tommy physically choked over his dark purr.
Purpled was supposed to only be a friend. Yet here he was, running over that word with his careless brain and stupid mistakes. Did the other blonde deserve it? Of course not! Nowhere in his head could Tommy come up with any other time an alpha craved another alpha’s scent enough to get off from it and want more. It was disgusting. Confusing. Wrong. Every inch of his skin felt grimy in a way he couldn’t wash off.
And he hated how much he liked it.
Thinking of the strong alpha, the only times Tommy really saw him was in volleyball because they were on the same team. Every time he came into his mind he saw a muscled, beautiful man. Tommy couldn’t give pups to that type of person! He couldn’t mate them together and settle down with another bachelor who couldn’t fulfil his desires! Yet his fangs pulsed every time he thought about that lean muscle turning soft with pregnancy, and his manhood thought that the very name was an invitation.
What was he supposed to do when he came back to school and had to face him again? He commanded everyone on the volleyball team despite not being an alpha yet, and somehow they had all listened to him and won last year’s championship. But now all of his hard work might go to the trash if he couldn’t fucking look into purple eyes ever again and he would be a lost man.
“What is wrong with meeeeeee?” he bemoaned, sorrowfully taking another bite from the sandwich. Getting his second gender was supposed to be a grand event, not a smack of realization that he wasn’t normal. He never had been, even before he was an alpha. He was loud, rude, cocky, and everyone knew he was an alpha way before his time. He just didn’t have the rosemary scent he did now. Which, if he was being honest, was the best scent he could have gotten. Strong enough to be recognizable but still down to Earth.
But now that his skin settled into his second gender he was left even more confused. Never before did he thirst over alphas. They were part of his life, of course, but he always flaunted for the ladies who cheered for their games and wore cute mini-skirts. He loved their praise and attention, but never had it been an alpha’s attention.
So where in his line of coding did he go so horribly wrong?!
The only possible answer it could be was the fact his mother had also been an alpha. But she had been a female, not a man! And his father had admitted many times that her scent never stood out to him, it had simply been an arranged marriage. But they had loved each other as much as they could.
But was that enough of an answer?
Finishing the sandwich, he sighed heavily and picked himself up, keeping the blanket over his shoulders. Tommy could feel the stirring in his gut again and knew the next wave of his rut was going to start soon. Almost instinctively he smelled the air, searching for the cherished lavender, and growled when he couldn’t find it. He wasn’t surprised; three days of being way too close to it would obviously drench it in his own scent but without it he felt restless and empty. Like the one thing that should be here, safe and protected, was not and it was driving him insane.
He crawled to the bed and curled up, keeping the blanket around him even when his body grew warm again.
Hopefully . . . when the rut is over all of this was just a joke. A funny story to bury in the recesses of his mind. To burn, actually. He’d get Purpled a new hoodie and apologize for having lost the old one and everything would go back to normal. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to meet eyes with said alpha for the rest of his life, but school was ending soon and he’d be a bonafide adult ready for the world.
Purpled would become a memory. A distant, insignificant portion of his life, that’s all.
So maybe he risked another glance at the sweater and got hard all over again when he imagined Purpled being just as mangled. It wouldn’t be from lack of love, oh no, but it was a clear sign that this one was taken and off the shelves. He couldn’t stop himself from purring deeply at the thought, a rich, territorial noise that alphas make.
He was going to forget it in three days anyway.
~~~~~
Stomping down the stairs, Tommy slouched at the table. He knew three sets of eyes were focused on him but he couldn’t care less. Yawning, he planted an elbow on the mahogany table as the scent of eggs and pancakes filled the air and the stove sizzled away the song of breakfast.
“Rosemary,” Wilbur commented with a hum. “What an interesting scent.”
“Not even a good morning?” Philza chided, turning back to the stove to make sure nothing was burning. “And rosemary is a wonderful scent. It’s one his mate would never get tired of smelling.”
Tommy made the worst mistake.
He winced.
“Who were you thinking of all week?” Wilbur demanded, latching on like a leech to blood. His brown eyes glowed unnaturally in the morning light from the window.
“I wouldn’t do that!” he said defensively, glaring at his older brother. “That’s disgusting.”
He didn’t buy it. “Come on, it’s only natural for you brutes to think of someone while in rut,” he said, leaning closer. His beta scent of old books wafted closer, cloyingly sweet in the way that Tommy knew only meant danger. “Was it a pretty girl with a sweet scent? Or a cute boy?”
Tommy flushed, thinking of Purpled and he watched in horror as Wilbur’s smile grew. The thing was Purpled wasn’t even cute! He was handsome, sure, and his stupid instincts insisted he was attractive, but he was all hard lines and muscle instead of a small thing to be protected and cherished. “N-no, nothing like that.”
“I’ll find out who it is,” he leered, sitting back and crossing his arms. “You can’t keep a secret for long.”
“That’s true,” Techno mumbled from across the table as he sipped his coffee. But his red eyes were trained on him, watching despite barely contributing to the conversation. Techno spoke when spoken to or unless he had something important to say, but he was always listening and gathering information. “But once you get over yourself I’m sure we’ll be seeing them home a lot.”
Imagining Purpled inside his house for his brothers to criticize sent his heart into a panic. What would they say when they saw another alpha instead of a beta or omega?
No, no. No. This was simply a glitch during his first rut. His instincts would be able to forget about him as soon as he found someone else to share his rut with and he would go on with his life as normal.
Thankfully, a plate of eggs and pancakes distracted him from saying anything stupid and he thanked Philza as he dug right into the warm and buttery cooked batter. Every movement was sore fresh out of a rut. His arms strained slightly even to hold a fork and his muscles were exhausted after a week of settling into his alpha status and loving a stupid sweater to death. No wonder alphas were so muscular if they had to go through this once every three months.
“Are you going to school today, Tommy?” Philza asked from the head of the table. He nodded. Even though his rut broke last night, he’d rather catch up on his missed schoolwork earlier than to deal with those and the end term exams. “Did you sign the paper?”
“Oh, I forgot to,” he admitted, thinking back to the paper on his desk. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Make sure not to forget next time,” he warned.
He rolled his eyes and scarfed the rest of the food down. “Right, well it was lovely seeing your faces again but I’ve got to go.” Crying in agony, his muscles protested the entire walk out of the kitchen to the chorus of good-bye’s from his family.
Tommy loved them. He really, really did. But Wilbur could be a beast, Dadza could be too protective, and Techno seemed to completely disregard his health and safety until someone else hurt him. And sometimes it was better to be out of the house and surrounded by strangers in a school than to suffer under their words and blows.
As he shrugged on his backpack he glanced at the bag in the corner of the room filled with the remains of his guilt. Sometime he was going to have to buy him a new sweater, but now it was time to throw it away from his room and from his life. It never should have happened in the first place, but since it had he would do his best to erase the traces. So he grabbed it with a grim face and slipped out of the house with no one else around to witness his downfall.
The fresh spring breeze collided into him when he opened the door and he inhaled it, feeling as it worked its way into his brain and began to calm him down. By the time he skipped down the stone driveway and up to the bin near the front of the house he felt marginally better about throwing away the hoodie.
Birds chirped glory to the one who made them as the sun began to creep further up and up into the sky. Faint dusting of clouds peppered the sky in a rickety staircase fashion. Dewdrops settled on every plant surface and glinted with tiny rainbows when he walked next to them. Everywhere was crawling life and dazzling beauty.
Some things never change, Tommy realized with an exhale. Yes, he was now an alpha and capable of so much more things than he was before but the Earth still rotated on its axis and the crisp mornings he loved still glimmered with the same beauty it always did.
He was going to be all right.
Over the next hill the school finally appeared. It was low and built up with bricks, but had been made a hundred years ago so some parts of the school were chipping. But every window had a pot of flowers and the grass was always cut low so the school looked clean-cut and antique in a good way. Hefting his backpack he smiled and walked a little faster. Even this early in the morning students were crawling around the school property, waiting for the bell to ring and call them inside.
And he spotted his friends too.
“BIG MANNNN! RANBOOB!!” he called out, running up.
The two betas jumped, spinning to face him. Tommy could see the moment his scent registered when they paused and lifted their nose, smelling the air.
“Oh my gosh, Tommy, you are an alpha!” Tubbo cheered, hugging his sore muscles hard in his excitement. “See, I knew you would be!”
“Rosemary is good on you,” Ranboo agreed, using his height advantage to sneak in a hug too. “How are you feeling now?”
Tommy burrowed his way out of the hugs. “Tired,” he admitted, running a hand through his curly hair. “But this week is halfway over and I wanted to finish the missed work.”
“I’m so glad I didn’t have to go through that,” Tubbo snickered. “Being an alpha is a lot of work anyway. Did you decide what you’re going to do?”
Thinking back to the Society Declaration, Tommy shook his head. There were so many things to choose from! He didn’t even fully read it so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick what he wanted beforehand. “But I’m going to do it today.”
“Oh, Tommy!”
His body locked up and he ignored the frowns from his friends as he swallowed and forced himself to turn around and act fucking normal. “Heeeeyyyyy, big P!”
Purpled’s face fell as he slowed down in front of him. “Again, don’t call me that.” Nope, Tommy was never going to learn so he gave an apologetic smile. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. Did you get sick?” That’s when the other alpha lifted his nose and blinked. “Oh. Congratulations.”
For a moment he stared at the fist hanging in the air before his brain clicked itself together and he bumped his own fist against Purpled’s. “Th-thanks.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The scent was there, the sweet lavender and it was messing with his head. Why?! Why wasn’t this problem gone?! He wasn’t in rut anymore!
“I assume you’re back for volleyball?” he asked, snapping Tommy out of his panic.
“Oh, yeah!” he said, maybe a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, I’ll be there. When’s the next practice?”
Purple eyes found him and Tommy looked away quickly, swallowing again. “Tonight . . . Are you sure you’re okay? Because I can take over for another day if you’re not feeling good.”
“I’m fine!” he bit out, stepping away when Purpled tried to get closer. “Just tired, that’s all. I’ll be there for the practice.” The bell rang its melody and Tommy had never been more thankful. “Well, I’ll see you later today!” he chirped, practically jogging away from the entire situation.
Shit.
Instead of going away like he thought it would, it was only a bigger problem. Because even if he wasn’t in rut anymore he now had the actual person instead of a faded scent, and he couldn’t tell which was worse.
He was so doomed.