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Roy and Johnny walked into the station together.
Roy would be lying if he said he wasn't a bundle of nerves. Facing a fire station full of alphas for the first time as omega presenting. He tried to tell himself it was normal, that omegas worked in fire stations somewhere, that this wasn't a big deal or a problem, but his brain kept throwing out worst-case scenarios like darts.
Would he be accepted? Would he still have a job? Could he be fired for being a distraction because of who he was? Would they tell him to go back home and make babies? Or would they-
"Hey, Roy… get out of your head. It looks noisy in there." Johnny's voice stopped his spiral.
Roy took a deep breath. God, he'd forgotten what it felt like to walk through the world with all of his senses working at 100%, with no medication dulling everything around him. The station smelled like sweat and alpha, so many alphas.
Johnny's scent right next to him was the only calming bright spot.
Because his body didn't care that his brain didn't want a relationship. And Johnny was home. He was so screwed.
"Nobody is going to care." Johnny kept speaking. Roy gave him a flat, disbelieving look. So Johnny shrugged and sighed. "Okay, they might care. But not in a bad way."
They were lucky to avoid running into anyone before hitting the locker room, but that's where Roy's luck ended.
"Hey, the lovebirds are back!" Marco called out as they walked to their respective lockers. He was already half changed and buttoning his overshirt and smiling. And he didn't mean anything bad. Marco was always happy when his teammates were happy. But…
"Marco…" Johnny's warning rumbled low in his throat, causing Marco's smile to drop in surprise.
The warning tone went completely unnoticed by Chet, however, who was already sniffing the air. He frowned and stood from the bench, one shoe's laces still hanging loosely. "Hang on…"
Chet followed his nose to Roy and leaned in as close as he could get away with.
Roy flinched back on reflex, spine hitting the edge of his open locker.
"Chet, what the hell?" He kept his voice calm- annoyed even. Because he knew this was Chet just being Chet, a dumbass. But he couldn't help the anxious spike that zinged from his feet to his throat, and he could tell his scent betrayed him, sending a signal to anyone nearby and willing to notice.
He knew it from the way Johnny's nose twitched, and he got in front of Chet, cutting off access to Roy.
"What's wrong with you, Chet?" Johnny snapped. "Your parents didn't raise you with manners? Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
Chet blinked, startled by the heat in Johnny's voice. "Wow, chill dude-"
"I am chill," Johnny lied through his teeth.
Chet lifted both hands, palms forward. "Roy just never had a smell before. It's new. And…" Chet trailed off, his eyes flicking back to Marco as if asking for backup that he wasn't the only one thinking what he was thinking.
Roy's fingers tightened around his uniform shirt. He hadn't changed yet. He hadn't even moved.
"And what?" Roy asked.
"We thought you'd smell like Johnny's," Marco supplied, like it was a normal question with a normal answer.
"Like… Johnny's." Roy repeated.
"Well, yeah! Before any of us even knew you were an omega, he'd already taken you home. And he didn't come back. We just assumed…" Chet tried to explain. Under normal circumstances, that would be the logical assumption. They weren't wrong to think it, not really.
But Roy hated the way saying it out loud made his skin feel inside-out.
"Oh…" Roy's voice was so quiet. "Um, no."
He turned around, shedding his button-down and shoving it in his locker. Before putting the uniform shirt on, he turned to face Chet and Marco, and just his luck that Mike and Captain Stanley walked in the door at that moment.
"No uh… no marks." Roy said, showing his upper body and neck, bare skin full of hair and zero bruising bite marks at any of the usual places. The only bruise left was the one on his inner arm from the IV he'd had at Rampart. "No mating."
He pulled the uniform shirt on and buttoned it quickly, covering himself up lest he be seen as an omega trying to—
Shut up, he ordered his own brain. Nobody thinks that.
Beside him, Johnny looked like he was ready to murder Chet.
Cap paused in the doorway, taking it all in in one sweep. The tension, Johnny’s barely-leashed anger, the faint distress and anxiety rolling off Roy now that he couldn’t hide anymore, and Chet’s confused-but-guilty expression.
Cap let out a sigh that seemed too big for his lean frame.
“Kelly,” he said evenly, “in my office.”
Chet’s eyes widened. “Cap, I—”
“Now.” Cap’s voice cut clean through it.
Then he glanced at Roy and Johnny, softer without being less firm. “DeSoto. Gage. Welcome back. Roll call in ten.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and marched Chet Kelly toward his office.
So much for a relaxing morning.
Johnny threw something into his own locker, the echo sounding louder than it would if not for the silent tension in the air. "Gah, sometimes that twit just makes me-"
"It was a normal reaction, Johnny." Roy sighed. Because he knew what it was like to go through life with everyone knowing his business. He had a few years of freedom before it was snatched away, but this was life as an omega. No damn privacy. His business was everyone's business. Even if they didn't ask, his body would give it away, broadcasting everything he felt to those around him.
"Well, it's stupid."
"Welcome to the real world." Roy gave a tired smile, switching out his comfortable pants for his work pants.
And still… warmth bloomed in his chest at Johnny’s vehement defense of him, unwarranted as it probably was. Johnny was young—immature for an alpha—and he reacted like one: loud, emotional, all sharp edges and instinct. More enthusiastic puppy than ferocious wolf.
Roy enjoyed Johnny’s attention anyway.
Especially when it distracted from everyone else’s.
Chet stood in the middle of the small office as the door clicked shut behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to make himself smaller than he already was.
"Sit," Cap nodded his chin at a chair as he walked around Chet to perch on the ledge of his desk. Chet sat obediently and cleared his throat.
"Cap, I—"
"Relax, Kelly, you're not in trouble… yet."
Chet sighed and collapsed back into the chair with relief. "Well, then— wait, yet?"
Cap sighed and rubbed his forehead, the gesture less tired than it was controlled. Like he was choosing words carefully—because some of this wasn’t his to say, even if he understood it now that Brackett had crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is as far as record keeping and keeping Hank apprised of the health of his paramedic.
"First of all, don't be a twit. Even if it's expected in normal situations to be scent curious, use the brains that god gave you, if he gave you any."
"But Cap, nobody knew!" Chet blurted. "I thought he was an alpha who controlled his scent better than most. Then… the smell that was left in the locker room, and you said he was on heat leave?? And Johnny took him? I mean, come on, Cap!"
"Chet," Cap leaned forward, latching onto the one useful piece in that entire outburst. "Who can control their scent and what they let through?"
"Uh… alphas." Chet answered, baffled. "Like I just said."
"Right… and who else?" Cap kept his voice quiet and patient, gesturing for him to continue. Chet thought about it.
"Betas? Kind of. They don't have much to control, actually."
"Keep going."
"But that's it." Chet hesitated. "Well, except with some heavy-duty medications for omegas who-" He stopped. Looked up and his eyes narrowed. "Cap, is Roy sick? Like really sick? Is that why he smells… like he's about to jump out of his skin?"
"No."
Chet looked relieved for a moment, but the gears in his head were turning… grinding, more like. "But the only way to hide being an omega that completely is with those pills."
Cap's expression didn't change. "Which means he had a damn good reason for it, so you don't go sniffing like a dang bloodhound."
Chet's jaw went slack.
Capt's voice stayed low and steady, but it carried weight and importance. "DeSoto was an omega even when we didn't know. And he's the best damn paramedic in the county and a fine firefighter as well. That hasn't changed. So nothing else changes either, regardless of what he smells like. Capiche?"
Chet nodded slowly, the realization of the horrible conclusion he'd been led to still sinking in.
After roll call, Roy felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around him. Except Johnny, who'd already seen Roy at his worst and stuck through it, and Mike, who was always a bit aloof anyway.
Chet had gone out of his way to get Roy a cup of coffee the way he liked it. If it were just one week prior, Roy would have assumed there was a prank behind it. But it was genuine, and the ceramic clinked as Chet nervously set it on the table in front of him.
Johnny, who had been watching this whole exchange like it was the funniest thing he’d seen since the invention of pants, let out a small, traitorous titter and immediately turned his head, pressing his knuckles against his mouth like he could hide the sound in his fist.
Roy shot him a look that could’ve peeled paint.
Johnny’s shoulders shook. He wouldn’t look back. Coward.
For a second, Johnny’s amusement almost gave Roy a sense of normalcy.
And then Marco had to go and be all sensitive.
He leaned an elbow on the table near Roy and lowered his voice like they were conspiring. “Okay,” Marco said, earnest. “We’re gonna be normal. But also… if anyone gives you trouble, you tell us.”
Roy blinked at him. “Marco…”
Marco lifted a hand. “No, I’m serious. If some guy at a call says something stupid, or if an ambulance attendant gets weird, or-”
Roy exhaled through his nose. “Marco, that's not going to happen.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Marco insisted, nodding hard like Roy was missing the point. “You tell us so we can do the letting-not-happen part.”
"No, I mean the not-going-to-happen part is I'm not going to run to you when I can take care of myself." Roy tried.
Mike, half turned in his chair with his coffee, observed dryly, “Lopez, you’re hovering.”
Marco looked offended. “I’m not hovering. I’m being supportive.”
“You’re hovering,” Mike repeated.
Johnny finally turned back, eyes bright with barely contained laughter. “Marco, you’re gonna smother him.”
Roy took a sip of coffee just to give his hands something to do. He took a moment and savored it. Damn it, Chet, it was actually perfect coffee.
“Look,” Roy said carefully, setting the cup down with a controlled clink of his own, “I appreciate it. I do.” He glanced around the table. Chet trying too hard, Marco trying to be a therapist, Mike pretending he didn’t care while still listening. "I was terrified of coming back here. I went back and forth about handing in my resignation and—"
"Terrified?" Chet asked. His voice was small.
Roy rubbed his thumb along the edge of the Formica and chewed at his bottom lip. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “A station full of alphas?” He gave a small shrug that wasn’t really a shrug. “Yeah.”
“But you know us,” Marco said, brow furrowing. “Roy, did we— any of us do something that made you think we’d—” He stopped, like he couldn’t even finish the sentence. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” Roy said immediately, eyes dropping to his coffee. “Not you. Not you guys.” He swallowed. “But I’ve been in high-stakes situations before where I was the only omega in a unit full of alphas.”
He didn't explain further, didn't need to. If it left a bad enough impression on Roy that he had been scared of the people who considered him family, it was enough for them.
Then he took a deep breath in the silence that followed. And he tried to cut the tension because that's what omegas do. They try to soothe, they smooth things over, they try to make life more comfortable for the alphas around them and themselves. And damn if old instincts weren't trying to creep up again now that he wasn't able to suppress that part of himself chemically.
“So,” Roy said, voice steadier, “while I do appreciate that you didn’t just tell me to go home and leave this job to the alphas…” He tipped his chin at the coffee like evidence. “You’re overcorrecting so hard you’re gonna sprain something.”
Chet blinked, then seemed to take that as the instruction it was. He reached over and pulled the cup away from Roy with exaggerated seriousness.
“Fine,” Chet declared. “Get your own coffee.”
Roy stared at him.
Johnny didn’t bother hiding his laugh this time.
Roy’s mouth twitched, helpless, and the tight knot in his chest loosened by a fraction.
Because that was normal.