Work Text:
The thing about Steve is that he hates his heats. While some omegas were blessed with having their heats last one to two days, he had to deal with this bullshit for three. And maybe he wouldn’t mind them much if he wasn’t alone. He was a tactile person, his omega mind craved touch and company and the feeling of safety that came with the company of his pack.
His parents would sometimes be around for his heats, but with their unpredictable work schedules, they weren’t very reliable. When they were around though, Steve was perfectly content. His dad always went out to buy him the softest blankets despite Steve having a ton already (because you can never have too many, his omega mind reminds him) and his mom would cook him homemade meals instead of him having to rely on snack foods throughout his heat. However, the older he got, the less and less they were around for his heats.
Sometimes the kids would keep him company for the first day; he would build a large nest in the living room with a ridiculous amount of pillows and blankets so they could all watch movies and play board games for a while. But they were young and would much rather spend the rest of Steve’s heat out in the arcade instead of being holed up inside. Steve didn’t blame them, he’d much rather be out and about than stuck at home too. He gets it.
Steve almost forgets about his heat. He’s at home flipping through channels, trying to find something good to watch beside trivia game shows, when he feels a familiar daze wash through his mind, making thinking feel like swimming through molasses.
‘Shit.’
The clock on the wall reads 8:05pm. The light from the fridge illuminates the inside, showcasing the empty shelves and stale bread. He’s been putting off grocery shopping for a while so all he has left is something green and moldy that was once probably left over dinner and bottles of soy sauce and ranch.
‘Idiot…’ He thinks to himself, grabbing the keys to the Beemer. He should have enough time to make an emergency supply run at the store for food and Heat Tampons. It’s late so there shouldn’t be many people at the grocery store, and most people in this town are betas.
Shopping while so close to his heat is a mistake, but he guesses any sensible person could have figured that out for themselves.
First, he wants to buy everything. It takes everything in him not to knock a whole shelf of Oreos and Hershey’s bars into the cart, and even then, he leaves with bags full of Nutter Butters, Ritz cheese and crackers, TV dinners, protein bars, chocolate sauce, and Eggos (who he blames Jane for getting him hooked on them in the first place.)
Second, by the time he makes it to the car he feels a familiar rush of heat run through him. Some omegas have to deal with terrible cramps and a heavy flow. Steve has to deal with heat flashes, sudden rises of temperature in mild fevers. It makes him feel lightheached and head hurt.
He fumbles with the keys for longer than he cares to admit, hands shaking as he searches for the right one. He feels tears gather in his eyes when he can’t seem to find the right one, frustration building when he can’t get the key through the keyhole hole. He’s struggling to gather enough wits to think in complete sentences, figuring this particular heat is going to be a strong one because of course it is. Just his luck.
He drops the keys and they hit the floor with a loud clatter, the street lights are brighter than he remembers and the smells are more potent in his nose. He whines and sits on the floor, back pressed against the side of the car, dropping the bags to his side. Nothing smells familiar. It doesn’t smell safe. He can smell unpleasant oil stains on the asphalt and the trash bins next to the store. It doesn’t smell like home. The ground isn’t soft, nothing is. He claws at the neckline of his scratchy sweater wondering why he would ever wear something so uncomfortable. He’s breathing quicker. It’s hard to catch his breath. His chest is too tight around his lungs—
“Steve?”
He picks his head up from where it was buried in his knees, vision blurry from tears that he swipes at as they fall. He doesn’t know when he’s started crying.
“Max?” He asks with a hoarse voice barely above a whisper.
“Hold on, I’ll get Billy. I’ll be right back, okay?”
His eyes widen and he furiously shakes his head, his hair falls into his face, giving him a wild appearance. Billy is an Alpha. And despite going to the same school, being pushed around by him in gym, he’s a virtual stranger. Alarm bells go off in his mind and he grabs Max’s wrists to keep her from leaving.
“Steve, I need to get Billy. You can’t drive home like this you’re too far gone.”
He doesn’t want to be alone.
He doesn’t want to be around an Alpha.
He smells him before he sees him. Alpha. Citrus. Smoke. And suddenly Billy is squatting in front of him, clad in denim and a leather jacket, squinting hard at him with a hard look on his face.
“You okay there, Harrington. You alone?”
He makes a move to reach for Steve and Steve growls, jerking back, whining when the back of his head hits the car door.
“Whoa, okay Harrington, I won’t touch you. Max, stay with him while I put his bags in my car. I think he’s gone under, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”
Billy picks up his bags and Steve’s keys from the floor, pocketing them. Steve whines as the Alpha disappears from sight. He doesn’t want to be around a strange Alpha, he shouldn’t want to be, not in his current state. But. He doesn’t want Billy to leave. He smells safe.
“It’s okay Steve he’ll come back and we’ll drop you off at home. Is there anyone home, Steve?”
He knows he’s being asked a question, but he doesn’t know what he’s being asked. The words aren’t making sense, they go through one ear out the other.
“Have you gotten him to talk yet?” Steve turns his head to lock eyes with Billy who approaches him with his palms out, displaying that he’s not a threat, releasing pheromones of comfort.
“Not yet. I don’t know if there is anyone at his house…”
Billy contemplates this, pursing his lips as he comes to a decision.
“Neil and Susan won’t be back until Monday. If he’s alone we’ll see if he’ll let us stay, or else we’ll need to call someone. He can’t be alone when he’s under, I’ll try to bring him back. Sound good with you?”
Max nods and Billy hesitantly makes a move towards the omega, who watches his every move, baring his teeth when Billy cups his cheeks and wipes his tear stained eyes.
“Hey there, Omega,” the Alpha purrs soothingly, “I’ma take you home, alright? Home. Would you like that?”
Home is safe.
Billy reaches back to Max, grabbing her wrist and bringing it close to Steve. When Max catches on to what Billy is trying to do, she pushes her wrist under Steve’s nose so he can smell her scent and brings Steve’s wrist up to her neck so she smells more like Pack.
“We’re pack, see? You’re safe with us. I know Billy’s an asshole, but he can help.” Billy glares at her and she sticks her tongue out at him.
Steve relaxes at the scent of Pack and Pup and nuzzles his head into the alphas hand, chirping in agreement. The Alpha smells content.
Billy pulls away and gives the keys to the Camaro and his jacket to Max.
“Leave the passenger open and put my jacket on the seat for Steve,” he turns his attention back to the omega, “I’ma pick you up, sweetheart. You ready?”
He chuckles lightly and Steve reaches his hands out, eager to be picked up and cuddled. He lifts him up with ease and bare his neck for the Omega to scent and nuzzle, it’ll make him feel safer if he smells like Steve and Pack.
He buckles Steve in before pulling out, constantly having to push Max back into the back seat when she tried to reach forward to mess with the radio.
“Can you tell me where you live, Steve?”
Steve blinks at him and chirps. He hears a snort come from the back seat and he sighs out his frustration. The last time he’s had to bring back an Omega from the brink was his friend who had a panic attack and the rest of his friends were clueless on what to do. That was a long time and now he feels like the clueless one.
“Alright, shitbird, you’re on navigating duty.”
They arrive at Steve’s house and he can see the lights on inside. He gets out and Max crawls through the middle of the seats to take Billy’s place and watches as Billy knocks a few times. No one answers.
“Home?”
Max whips around to stare at Steve, she almost missed the word with how quiet it was said. It wasn’t much but it was something.
“Yeah, you’re home. Is there anyone here. Your parents?”
Steve shakes his head, finally seeming able to understand and respond despite eyes that still look glazed over.
“Work. New York. Alone.” He manages. She watches his brows pinch and his bottom lip tremble.
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone home.” Billy opens the passenger door and works on getting Steve free from the belt buckle.
“He said they’re in New York for work.”
Billy looks at her surprised, “He talked?” Max nods.
Billy finally frees Steve from the seat belt, picking him up again with his jacket when he reaches up towards Billy again.
‘He’s like a koala.’ He muse, look down at Steve in his arms as he stares up at him with those large brown doe eyes of his.
“You with us now, Steve? Do you want us to stay?”
Steve nods enthusiastically and buried his face into his neck with a shy smile. “Stay. Please.” It comes out slightly muffled.
Billy fishes Steve’s house keys from his pockets and unlocked the door, awkwardly trying to hold Steve with one arm. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He orders Max to bring in the groceries and put them away in the kitchen, and for once she does so without complaining.
“So we’re staying? Are we gonna have a sleepover?” He rolls his eyes at her eagerness and nods, watching her as she disappears into the hallway like it’s her own house and he throws his jacket on the coach, placing Steve on top of it to keep him from staining the couch.
Max comes back with a mountain blankets and dumping them next to Steve who immediately buried his face in them. “What,” she says when Billy raises an eyebrow at her, “he keeps all his nesting supplies in the hallway closet.”
She disappears again and comes back, throws a box of heat tampons on top of the blankets before taking off her shoes and throwing herself on the large couch, sitting with her legs under her.
Billy stares at the box with a pained expression and rubs the bridge of his nose. This isn’t exactly something he can help Steve with. Alright.
“Max? Billy?”
‘Oh thank god,’ Billy thinks and kneels on the floor so he can be eye level with Steve.
“Hey, Steve. Good to have you back. Do you know what’s going on?”
A nod.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I wanted — I forgot about my heat and, um, I wanted snacks. I thought —- I — I thought I had enough time… to go to the store.” His words are slurred but at least he seems to be coming to full awareness.
“You know that was a dangerous thing to do right? You’re lucky Max found you. Why didn’t you call anybody?” He rubs his thumbs over Steve’s knee to give him something to focus on and ground him.
‘Oh,’ Steve thinks, ‘it didn’t cross my mind.’
Steve shrugs. “It was late?” He says sheepishly.
“Come on, let’s get you on your feet.” Billy stands and offers a hand for Steve to grab, pulling him up and keeping him from falling back.
Steve looks down and wrinkles his nose at his stained pants, he flushed with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry about your jacket… I’ll wash it for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you to the bathroom-“
“Second door on the right,” Max interrupts, watching them with an unsettling glee.
“-yeah, thanks shitbird.” He grabs the box and leads Steve to the bathroom. Steve flicks the light on and looks back at Billy while biting his lip and looking down.
“Can you get my pajamas for me? My room is upstairs and my legs feel like jelly, ya know?” He beams when Billy gives him an exasperated smile.
“Might as well.”
“Up stairs. First door on the right. They’re in the second drawer of the dresser.”
—
Max is the last one awake in the quick makeshift nest on the floor. The only sound is the low volume of the horror movie she placed in the vcr after Billy and Steve fell asleep.
There is a small stack of plates off to the side to avoid staining the blankets. They’re covered with chocolate sauce and unfinished eggos.
”Seriously, Harrington? You went on a suicide mission to the store for eggos and chocolate?”
She snickered at the memory, dragging her finger through some of the chocolate on the plate and licking it off. She looks to her side where Billy and Steve fell asleep midway through Star Wars, bundled under a large baby blue blanket that Max is 90 percent sure is a baby blanket. But it’s soft and warm and smells like Pack so she lifts the covers up and squeezes in the small Max-Sized space between them.
Steve sleepily shifts closer and pulls the covers back over them, nuzzling the pup and enjoying the way Billy’s arm wraps tightly around both of them.
They fall asleep like that, in a puppy pile. Ears filled with the sound of the ending credits song and Omega purring.