Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For all intents and purposes, Pete Mitchell was fine. 

Sure, he had just narrowly escaped going up in flames after crashing a multi-million dollar aircraft, but that was hardly news to him, or to his body. A few days of hell were to be expected, but it never lasted all that long, even when accounting for his older age.

So when the discomfort persisted in the form of nausea and a strange, almost feverish ache in his joints, he was eventually convinced to go see his doctor. That, and his chest. It was all tender. He’d bumped into Hondo and nearly bitten the poor man’s head off. 

It reminded him of his pre-heat symptoms, except his last cycle was months ago, and he wasn’t due for another yet as far as he could estimate. It had been ages since his fertile years, the cycle wasn’t nearly as predictable anymore. Just a lagging imitation, really, so his endocrine system could remain balanced. Maybe something or other had finally gotten tangled up. It was bound to happen eventually. 

He scratched absently at his chin. This last heat had definitely been… notable. 

Just thinking about that lust-filled marathon made him cringe. Only the stiff, creaky chair he was sitting in kept him grounded in his sterile surroundings while he waited for Hendricks’ return. He’d insisted on a pregnancy test alongside the regular bloodwork, which Pete had shrugged at because it really made no difference to him. 

Honestly, it seemed like a waste of time. He’d suffered the indignities of menopausal turmoil already.

The door swung open, startling him from his thoughts. Dr. Hendricks stepped in with a tight expression on his face, his mild beta scent shrouded with careful neutrality. 

That immediately made him sit up straighter. Had they found something serious? Cancer? Pete tracked Hendricks as he sat down and rolled his chair out from behind his desk. «This can’t be good,» the omega said, but the attempted humor fell horribly flat.

«That depends.» Hendricks laced his fingers together. He was studying Pete closely. «I won’t insult you by beating around the bush. You’re pregnant, Mitchell.»

At first, it didn’t register. He waited for the severity to break and for Hendricks to laugh, which was ridiculous, because the man hadn’t cracked a smile in the 10 years Pete had known him. Next, the most curious sensation of an electric current locking every muscle into rigid stillness overtook him. The word pregnant thrashed around his skull like a ricocheting bullet, dinging against the hollowed out cavern between his ears.

Finally, his three act humiliation was concluded by a pitiful; «What?»

«Your test came back conclusive for pregnancy,» Hendricks reiterated, softly. «You’re about 8 weeks along.»

«W… what?» Pete said again. A frostbitten chill took hold of his toes and fingertips. «But I’m 56.» His voice had a degree of uncertain frailty he hadn’t experienced in thirty years.

«It’s unusual, but not impossible.» Hendricks leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs and looking at Pete over the rim of his glasses. «I am here to support you in whatever choice you make, but I have to advise you of the risks. Carrying a pup to term at your age can be challenging. The chances of complications are high, for both you and the fetus.»

«I don’t–» Pete looked down at his stomach like it might have answers for him. Part of him wanted to stroke it in some nonsensical attempt to feel a difference. He refrained, but only just. «I don’t even know who the other parent is.»

It could be Penny, he supposed. Or it could be one of the four other alphas he’d taken home over the span of his heat. Maybe even the beta, he’d been enthusiastic. Pete scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning into his palms. Holy shit, he didn’t even remember their names. Hendricks offered a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

«The decision doesn’t require their immediate input. This is your body, and the first order of business is figuring out what’s best for you. We can worry about paternity tests later.»

«Jesus Christ,» Pete muttered, wrapping his arms around himself and staring at the opposite wall. Tension coiled tight in his shoulders until the ache of it bled down his spine. «Can I think about it? How long until…» he blinked, still half-convinced he might wake up from this nightmare, «How long do I have?»

«Officially, about a month.» Hendricks’s tone made Pete look at him again, and he caught a significant undercurrent in the man’s expression. One that made a promise to see this through, even if it meant bending the rules. There was comfort in that, at least. 

Pete allowed himself to exhale. «Alright.»

***

He tried to go home, but the walls became oppressive within the first fifteen minutes. He kept lifting his shirt to scrutinize himself, but there wasn’t a sign of anything yet. The damn thing was tiny as a quarter in there, what was there to show?

Sometimes, older omegas experience a more intense display of symptoms, he heard Hendricks recite in his head. The pamphlet he’d been given was on the floor somewhere, and it detailed the tenderness of the breasts, the shifting scent, the endocrine vulnerabilities, and premature physical developments. As it were.

In short, he was fucked. The longer he stared at himself the more alien he felt, like there was a foreign parasite in there slowly consuming him, assuming his body for its own purpose. And wasn’t that awful? It was a– well, it wasn’t a baby. Not yet, anyway. But wasn’t he supposed to feel some sort of sacred connection to it? He wrinkled his nose, thinking about the movies where the omega would be bathed in some saintly light, standing barefoot in white linen clothes while they stroked their perfectly chiseled stomach. 

Oh, he was going vomit again. 

He needed out. Away from his home, away from solitude and away from his own imagination. Pete sent a text and got on his motorcycle, barely remembering to shove the helmet onto his head. There was only one place to go, only one person he could fathom talking to.

Ice would know what to do. He always did. Pete would be lost without him.

***

The cancer is back. 

Pete swallowed hard, clinging to Ice’s embrace like it might reverse things somehow. All thoughts of the pregnancy were irrelevant now, but as Ice gently pushed him back, it was clear by the stern look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten what brought the omega to his doorstep. 

So? he said, with a gesture of his head. He looked soft, bundled up in a high-neck, cotton sweater. When Pete failed to answer, he rolled his eyes, sitting down by his open laptop. His fingers danced over the keyboard almost too quickly to follow. You texted me, he wrote. I know something is wrong. Don’t hold out on me.

«It doesn’t matter…» Pete started to say, but a sharp glare had him trailing off. He sighed, sitting down in the adjacent chair like a pup getting scolded by his teacher. Some things never changed, he supposed. «I, uhm…»

Ice typed again. Pete looked up, and blanched. «No, that– I don’t have cancer.»

The alpha had the nerve to grin. Well, it can’t be too bad, then. Out with it.

«I’m sort of,» Pete said, fumbling with his words. «No. I'm definitely pregnant.»

«Huh?» Ice exclaimed, his raspy voice pitching up with an almost boy-ish bewilderment. It was immediately followed by a pained grimace. Sorry. Not what I was expecting. I figured you killed someone. 

«Thank you for your glowing vote of confidence,» Pete deadpanned, but his lips twitched up at the corners. «I have no idea what to do about it. I’m happy, I guess? I love kids, they’re great.»

Ice didn’t have an immediate response to that. He just considered Pete for a little while, something thoughtful swimming in his sharp eyes. Do you want to keep it? he eventually typed out.

Pete slumped against the backrest, drumming his heel against the hardwood floor. «Shouldn’t I?» he said, before grimacing. «I mean, it’s a miracle. People would kill for a chance like this.»

The ads for fertility treatments were everywhere these days. Couples struggling for years and getting nowhere, or same-designation pairs desperate to start families of their own. Always a row of sad faces, followed by glowing smiles once the miracle treatment of the day helped them achieve their dreams. 

And here was Pete, sulking.

Ice tilted his head, looking contemplative as he gazed up at the ceiling. «I think,» he whispered, his voice burdened with obvious discomfort. «That children should be born to parents who want them.» He broke off with a cough, massaging his throat. Pete wanted to tell him to stop exerting himself, but the alpha leveled him with a look that firmly shut him up. «Do you want to keep it?»

Pete opened his mouth, but he came up empty. Emotion was crowding up his throat and making his eyes sting, but he couldn’t cry now. Not with the weight of it all crushing him under its heel. The expectations, the what-if’s, the fear. Since the day he presented, he’d been told that his life’s greatest achievement would be pregnancy and child rearing. Everything he ever did amounted to ensuring that ending. Without it, he would never be whole.

«No,» Pete quietly confessed. It felt like a gun to the back of his head. «I never did.» And it was his greatest branding of failure. When he’d failed to step up for Bradley, failed to be his father in any meaningful way despite his omega status designating him as a natural caregiver. There was not a cell in his body that understood how to slow down for long enough to raise a child.

The soft clicks of Ice’s keyboard had him glancing up. Give that statement weight when you make the final decision, the screen said. You know yourself best, but I’m not a stranger either, Mav. You look like a hostage. 

«Oh, come on,» Pete complained, swiping at Ice’s shoulder. «Just be glad it isn’t yours. We weren’t exactly careful.»

A devilish smile crossed the alpha’s face, and his scent briefly blossomed into the familiar, strong peppermint notes Pete was used to. The benefits of youth, he typed. 

The mood shifted into something easier after that. That undercurrent of anticipatory grief never left completely, but the severity of conversation backed away until they could almost pretend things were normal again. 

Pete had no idea what he would do without his best friend around anymore. Part of him believed it simply wouldn’t come to that. It couldn’t.

…Right?

***

The mission could not have come at a worse time.

He was going back to Top Gun, where he had 3 weeks to train a set of pilots for a glorified suicide run. All his plans of quiet introspection and sleuthing into the timeline of his hook-ups went out the window. Hell, he hadn’t even fully decided on the whole termination thing yet, let alone when he wanted to do it.

But he couldn’t just say no. It was made abundantly clear that he didn’t have that option. And any omega in the army could attest to the fact that telling your primarily alpha superiors you were pregnant was a sure-fire way to blow up your career. 

People liked to say it was a more progressive time, and for the most part, he could agree. There was less open bigotry going around. That did not stop archaic old dogs from making his life a living nightmare at the first sign of perceived weakness. The conversation around abortion was tenuous enough in the general public – but in the military? 

God, no. They couldn’t directly punish him, but they could interfere. They could shun, find ways to bend the rules to serve their purposes. Here goes the unnatural omega, damaged by his harsh environment and subsequently hardened against his natural instinct for child rearing. A tragedy. Why don’t you take some time off, Mitchell? Why don’t you think about it? 

Yeah, right. Then the doors would slam in his face and he’d be left out on the curb like a kitten in a box.

So, he accepted. He figured he could deal with it and have the abortion talk after the assignment was over. He’d still be within the 12 week window and everything would work out fine.

The frail optimism did not last when he saw a painfully familiar face among the recruits. 

Pete groaned, letting his forehead thump onto the desk as another bout of nausea mixed in with the spiralling sense of doom, shame, and failure. 

Bradley. Of course, it was Bradley. A sickening swoop of longing and terror made him bite down hard on his lower lip. God, he missed that kid so much it hurt. Over a decade of radio silence had eroded a gigantic hole in his heart that he never succeeded in filling. 

And it was all his fault. 

His laptop screen shut with a click, leaving the room in complete silence. One thing was definitely for sure; this was not going to end well. 

Chapter Text

Pete had decided, in all his wisdom, that he should probably give Penny a heads up on the entire situation. It had seemed like a great idea when he first thought of it, at 3 in the morning.

Now, standing in her bar full of strangers with loud music scrambling his already aching brain, he really wished he had just stayed home with his misery. 

«Here you go,» Penny said, a perfectly foaming glass of beer clinking onto the counter in front of his face. He started to reach for it, only to hesitate with his hand frozen mid-air. Could he even…? What were the ethics of drinking if he wasn’t keeping it? At the alpha’s curious look, Pete managed a smile, and waved his refusal. 

«Driving,» he said. It took a moment, but Penny shrugged and accepted it. 

«So,» she said, dancing between tasks like it was the most effortless thing in the world. Pete lingered on her hands, slim and elegant with veins trailing from her knuckles and down her forearm. Strength rippled underneath her skin, one he remembered dearly from when she commanded his body to her satisfaction. The daydream made him sigh, leaning his chin on his hand. He wished he could go back to that moment now. Everything was so much easier when he wasn’t potentially carrying her offspring. «What’s on your mind? You look tense.»

He barely processed the question, looking up at her once the silence stretched a beat too long. «Just… Work.»

She raised an eyebrow, but let it go. «Heard you’re going back to Top Gun.»

«Mm-hmm.» He tapped his phone absently against the counter. 

«Mav.» Penny leaned in close, concern dancing in her eyes now. «Seriously. Is something wrong-»

She never got to finish. A ruckus erupted from the entrance, announcing the arrival of a gang of new people. Pete turned just in time to get a gust of alpha pheromones directly in the face. A tall, blonde man entered first, with a smirk on his face that told everyone he believed himself owner of the world. Behind him followed a row of pilots, all alphas and all looking to raise hell.

One woman in particular caught Maverick’s eye. Callsign Phoenix, if he remembered her file correctly. She was shorter than alphas typically were, more slight in build too, but he could tell by a glance that these were not reasons to underestimate her. She had fought her way to the top and no one had managed to stop her yet.

A small, private smile tugged on his lips. He knew that stance very well. He would be watching her closely. 

They conversed amongst themselves, all gathered around a pool table. Pete parted his lips and isolated their scents, trying to pick them apart through the haze of alcohol and sweat. Amongst the heavier alpha scents, there was something lighter. Like… Green tea, almost. He furrowed his brows, scrutinizing the group until he finally landed on a mop of brown hair nearly obscured behind the rest of them. 

An omega. That would be Robert Floyd, then. There was another one to watch. He was Phoenix’ RIO.

A rough headcount confirmed that all of his recruits were accounted for. All except…

Caramel. All  the noise in the room disappeared into a vacuum the second that scent teased his senses. He picked it out of the hundred-odd crowd with a single breath, in a single second. It was just a little salty, with an undertone of warm whiskey that had blossomed as the scent matured.

As Bradley matured. Pete barely remembered to blink as the movement in his peripheral vision made its way into full view. The whole bar could burst into flames and Pete wouldn't notice a thing, he was utterly consumed by the vision of Bradley, tall and muscular and sunkissed, weaving through the crowd toward the other pilots. 

A patterned shirt flowed along his slender waist, drawing attention to all the strength that he’d honed in their 15 years apart. 

Fuck. It really had been that long, huh? Last time Pete had seen him, his face had still retained some of that round boyishness that was completely absent now. How much had he missed? Had he settled down yet- No. No, his neck was bare.

He didn’t know what to do about the massive relief this realization brought. 

A rock settled in his throat, choking him. It was undeniable what a beautiful man Bradley had become. His wavy, golden-streaked hair and dark eyes captivated the entire room, as did the careful warmth with which he regarded his peers. Him and Phoenix were talking, clearly familiar with one another. He still did that fidgety thing with his hands when he couldn’t quite decide where to put them.

Fuck. Pete needed out of here, now. «I, uhm,» he said, turning to Penny again. There was something knowing in her eyes that he didn’t feel like lingering on. «I should get going.»

«Take care,» she said, reluctantly turning to tend her other patrons. Pete threw his jacket on and had just barely gotten off the barstool when he found himself blocked against the counter by a tall, apparently blind alpha. 

«Excuse me,» he said, keeping his irritation out of his voice by the skin of his teeth. The scent of dry grass and nettles coated the back of his tongue from the proximity. 

«Oh! Sorry,» the alpha said, but he didn’t move. When Pete tilted his head up to actually look, he realized it was Jake Seresin, one of his pilots. With a callsign like Hangman and the seismic attitude he was displaying, he would be a fascinating study. 

«I have somewhere to be.» Pete didn’t bother softening his tone now. He might be older, but he wasn’t an idiot. Seresin was sizing him up, and by the flippant nature of his demeanor, he was keen on finding out just how far he could push before he got a proper reaction.

«I know,» Seresin said, gazing over Pete’s head like he wasn’t even there. «Just wondering what your deal is. You were staring at me pretty good when I walked in.»

The omega threw his head back with a barking laugh. Oh, sure, what could possibly make his life less complicated right now? Sex with another alpha, of course! Why hadn’t he thought of whoring himself out a little more just to take the edge off? «You don’t want to go there, trust me,» he said, and was pleased that Seresin actually looked taken aback. The omega took advantage of it and shouldered right past him, giving a two-fingered salute on the way. 

Seresin watched him go with rounded eyes and a dusting of rose across his cheekbones. He probably wasn’t used to being out-foxed in his own game, but Pete had three decades worth of experience in giving prospective alphas the middle finger. 

He’d be grateful in the morning, anyhow. The omega kept his head down as he hurried toward the doors leading onto the beach, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped into. He refused to look up, even as Bradley’s voice filtered over the crowd. Loud and carefree, and notably deeper than last time. 

It hurt like a knife to the heart. Pete wished beyond all else that it could be easy, that they could embrace and pick up like they’d never been apart, but that wasn’t possible. Bradley had moved on and Pete was still here, exactly as he had been; waiting for something that he’d chased away forever. 

The door was finally within reach. He was just about to close his fingers over the handle when a racket to his left had him startling, just not fast enough to avoid the wasted man crashing into him. A sharp noise was punched out of him when the beta’s elbows collided with his stomach, sending a cascade of pain through his body. Pete stumbled backwards, bent over at the waist and crushing his arms over his middle while he fought to catch his breath. 

«Shit,» he breathed, his face screwing into a grimace when a rush of nausea overtook him.

«Hey, man,» someone was slurring. A hand landed on Pete’s shoulder, sticky with spilled drink. It strayed dangerously close to the back of his neck, toward the pressure points that would render him a ragdoll on the floor. A loud ringing was echoing in his ears like someone had set off an explosive right next to him. «You good? Stop makin’ that noise. You’re fine, right?»

Noise? Pete swallowed, and only then realized that the ringing was his own whine as he fought to get himself under control. He blinked sticky tears out of his eyes and bit his teeth together as he straightened, trying to ignore the pain of his stretching and contracting muscles. «You have two working eyes. Use them next time,» he growled, slapping the beta’s hand away. 

The man bristled with indignation, getting in Pete’s face. «What did you say to me?»

If the goal had been to intimidate him, it was woefully unsuccessful. The omega tipped his chin and squared his shoulders. That familiar fire started to churn beneath his skin, but a single look around the room made it obvious that it wasn’t necessary. About a dozen alphas were eyeing them, Penny included, their attention grabbed by an omega’s distressed call. 

There were occasional benefits to belonging to the coveted sex. A wolfish grin spread across Pete’s face as the beta realized in tandem with him how royally fucked he was, should this continue. «And for future reference, watch where you put your fucking paws.» Leaning in closer, he gave the man a hard pat on the cheek. «Or it won't be them you’ll have to worry about.»

The beta faltered a step backwards while glaring at him something fierce, but that was immaterial in comparison with getting the fuck out of dodge. As soon as he was out of the doors and away from the windows, Pete broke into a run. He blew right past his parked bike and bolted for a boatshed a little further down the beach, throwing himself behind it not a second too late. He’d just disappeared into the shadows when he lost the battle with his stomach and hurled his guts out into the sand. Each heave agitated the developing bruise again, leaving him teary eyed and weak. 

Spitting the last remnants out did nothing to help the aftertaste. Pete closed his eyes and slumped against the shed wall, listening to the muffled voices and music from the bar. Once upon a time, it had been him, Ice, and Goose causing trouble like that. Young and stupid, all three of them. They’d always said Pete would die young in a blaze of glory and the two of them would have to manage his affairs. Ice with no small amount of sarcasm, granted. 

A sad excuse for a smile crossed his face. Why couldn’t things have turned out the way they were supposed to?

Something warm slid down onto Pete’s lip, breaking his dissociated melancholy. He brushed the back of his hand over his face and squinted at the dark, shiny stain. Trying to scent it was pointless, his nose was completely stuffed.

«Maverick,» said a deep voice, not 10 meters away. It was stony and reserved, clearly unhappy about being there in the first place, which Pete could wholeheartedly agree with. He was fairly sure he would succumb to another fit of vomiting just at the thought of stepping into the light to face him. 

Bradley.

«Yeah.» With a deep breath that did nothing to steady him, Pete forced his tired, aching body to straighten up and move. These were the consequences of his own actions, he owed it to both of them to face it. 

What a sad sight he must’ve been, for Bradley’s face to fall like it did. The rolling waves were a mocking audience witnessing how the alpha in front of him had grown and changed, and how utterly stuck Pete remained by comparison. He’d been put on pause 15 years ago and nothing had shaken him since. 

«You’re bleeding,» Bradley said, at length. 

«Oh.» Pete swiped at his nose again, only to come away with more fresh blood. Now that he was aware of it, the sticky sensation down his neck was painfully obvious. Embarrassment was so strong it made him lightheaded. «Sorry, I’m-» knocked up.

The alpha took a step closer, like he was compelled to against his better judgment. «Did he hit you?»

«Not in the face,» Pete huffed, giving up on his nose and leaving it to free-bleed. Whatever. It wasn’t like it could get any worse at this point. «It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.»

A spark of anger lit up in Bradley’s eyes, making them flash copper. He ground his jaw and looked away, toward the ocean. «I assume you’re the instructor,» he bit out.

Pete stared down at his shoes, one arm still wrapped around his middle. «Yes.»

The alpha let out a bitter laugh. «Great. Spare us both the trouble and flunk me tomorrow morning.»

It stung like he’d buried his hand full of papercuts into a tub of salt. It didn’t help that the offer was tempting. This mission was dangerous, borderline impossible, and the chances of someone not making it back home were enormous. The abyssal grief living inside Pete’s chest did not need to be roused to tell him exactly what he already knew. It was simple. He could not survive losing Bradley. 

And wasn’t that the irony of it all? Let him join the mission, and he might die. Let him walk out those doors tomorrow, and he would disappear beyond where Pete could ever reach him. The result was the same no matter how he spun it. «You’ll be treated like everybody else,» he said. The taste of iron washed over his tongue, making him scrunch his nose. «I can promise you that.»

Bradley gave him a look like those words meant very little to him, before his eyes fixed on Pete’s lips. It was heavy enough that the omega felt nerves start to climb up his spine, but then the alpha sighed sharply. «Here,» he grumbled, before pulling his loose outer shirt off. His arms glistened with soft ivory highlights as he held it out, now standing in just his tank top. Pete was too stunned to move for several embarrassing seconds.

«I don’t want to ruin it.»

«Mav,» the nickname slipped out like it was easy. «Take it.»

When the omega still didn’t move, Bradley made the decision for him. He stepped into Pete’s space and grabbed his wrist, shoving the bundled up fabric into his hand. «Thank you,» he said belatedly, hesitating once again before an eye-roll finally prompted him into pressing the bundled up fabric to his nose. 

Oh. Even through the metallic tang of his own blood, the shirt smelled lovely. Bradley had always had such a sweet scent for an alpha, and he was relieved it had retained some of this quality even as he aged. Something tightly wound in his core started to unravel before he even understood what was happening. 

«Try not to get in trouble again,» Bradley said. Pete shot a guilty look up at him, but the alpha had turned his head away. The alcohol on his breath left his ears a flushed shade of red - a colorful reminder of the good time he was supposed to be having. 

«No promises,» the omega said with a shrug of his shoulder. «Well. I’m fine and I’m going home. You should head back inside.»

He thought he saw Bradley hesitate, for just a second. As if a spark of something tense had lit up in his expression. «Yeah,» the alpha said, his face settling back into that unreadable blankness. He opened his mouth like there was something else he wanted to say, but it never materialized. Instead, he gave a stiff nod, and turned on his heel.

Pete watched him go with a soul-crushing longing expansive enough to fill an entire ocean. The warm light from the bar welcomed him back like an embrace from an old friend, flowing over his body and settling in all the beautiful dips of his features. The light adored Bradley, it fawned over him like he was its favorite subject. There was nothing more beautiful.

He disappeared inside, and the doors swung shut behind him. The noise cut off into a muffled hum, leaving Pete alone with the bloody shirt in his hands and the rolling waves in the distance.

Chapter Text

His introduction that morning was funny, if nothing else. Seresin had the sportsmanship to smile at him. Gold star in Maverick’s Book of Debauchery.

Bradley, on the other hand, was doing a stellar job of pretending he’d never seen Pete before in his life. His gaze didn’t linger, his tone remained impassive and indifferent. It terrified him, looking into the eyes of his last remaining family and getting cold apathy in return. Warlock gave him a sideways look when his pause stretched too long, forcing him back to the task at hand.

The morning passed in a blur. The introduction of the mission, the careful study of each pilot as they processed the information. Phoenix sat leaned back in her chair with a thoughtful frown on her face, head slightly tilted as she studied Warlock’s presentation. It was clear she had questions – she looked downright critical at times – but she was keeping it to herself. For now. 

One to watch, indeed. Pete made a mental note of it.

As they were heading out to start the exercises, a familiar scent closed in. He glanced up just as Seresin threw an arm around his shoulders. The touch was short-lived but rough, and their height difference meant a brief pressure over the back of Pete’s neck. Not enough to trigger the shut-down response, but enough to give his nervous system a zap. Some subtle footwork was necessary to hide how his leg was struck by a half-second of numbness. «You ready to go, Captain?» 

He swallowed down the surge of fight-or-flight only thanks to years of practice. Accidents weren’t unheard of, especially since he opted out of the protective padding some omegas - like Bob, he’d observed - wore, though incidents like this had drastically decreased since his younger days. People were becoming more aware of where and when to touch, on account of being forced to listen. Threats of 20 year stints in prison were attention-grabbing, even if it didn’t play out that way in practice very often.

This one didn’t seem malicious, just thoughtless. From an alpha that appeared this condescending and over-confident, it tracked. «Are you?» Pete countered mildly, turning his focus back on his gloves. The submissive implications of casting his eyes down in the face of a direct question were potent.

Seresin, like the good boy he was, bit right down on the hook. His scent swelled, fanning into Pete’s space. The alpha even went the extra mile by brushing their arms together to further deposit his pheromones. It was so bold, the omega had to feign a cough to cover up his urge to laugh. «I like you,» Seresin said, like he’d arrived at a grand realization. «So I’ll go easy on you.»

There was a spark of self-awareness in his eyes when Pete blinked up at him. He seemed to know, at least to some degree, that he was full of shit. Just not enough to keep his mouth from running. The omega tilted his head and wondered if this would be an issue with a superior like, say, Warlock, who just so happened to be an alpha. «Do your best, Hangman.» A sharp smile broke through his facade. «‘Cause I will.»

The warning was laughed off, which was about as predictable as it was tragic. Pete headed for his F18 with his competitive spirit buzzing beneath his skin, but stopped short of actually boarding when a strange shift in the air had his hackles rising.

Squinting against the glare of the sun, he was just able to catch Bradley’s cold look sweeping from Seresin, then to him, and back again. 

Something coiled tight in Pete’s chest. He darted his gaze away before he could get caught staring. 

***

«Straighten your back,» Pete suggested, nudging Seresin in the stomach with his boot. The alpha’s glare was thunderous, but that just made the whole thing funnier. Deciding he might as well push his luck, he strolled off toward the base with a sunny; «Keep counting, kiddo!»

The day had been productive, all in all. Pete was pleased with the potential among his group. Phoenix stood out as a particular highlight, in that she was smarter than the rest of them by a pretty decent margin. Passionate and stubborn? Definitely. Her callsign hadn’t come out of nowhere. Where she set herself apart was in her interpersonal observations. She read people well, and she knew it.

The others were showing promise, too. Bob could hold his own better than first impressions might suggest, and his reserved nature balanced out Phoenix’ assertive style. Payback and Fanboy were a synchronized team with agility and tenacity. They were a good group, he just wished Bradley wasn’t in it.

The alpha had done well. He was an excellent pilot with good instincts and a drive to protect his team. What worried Pete was that he did so at his own expense, and was too stubborn to see it. Self-sacrificial and with a tendency to distrust what was clearly a strong intuition; the combination wasn’t just dangerous, it was lethal. 

He was rattled, though maybe they both were, after that spiral they did. A shudder rippled down his back at the memory of the ground coming closer and closer and at how little he cared. There, locked into Bradley’s gravitational pull, he had finally gotten close to him again. Pete hadn’t wanted to let go.

Could he really teach if he was this compromised? 

I don’t have a choice, he thought, pushing through the door with a sour mood building. He hadn’t eaten much on account of every food item abruptly becoming the most disgusting shit he’d ever seen, and it was catching up with him. He was dizzy and miserable and ready to shut himself away until the morning.

Pete was originally heading for his office to get his keys, but on his way there he passed by someone with a huge mug of coffee in their hands. The scent of thrice reheated, bitter, watery sludge hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Just like that, he was in a mad dash for the closest bathroom. He threw himself into the stall in the nick of time, clutching the toilet for dear life as he emptied his hollow stomach. The fucking fetus was gonna come up through his mouth at this point. Could it? Was that a possibility? Ha, spontaneous ejection

The omega half groaned, half sobbed. He was losing his mind. «A more intense display of symptoms,» he muttered, slumped over and marinating in the smell of toilet water. «Fuck off.»

He eventually trudged out of the stall, prepared to go lick his wounds in private, but the universe didn’t allow him small mercies like that. It was a near thing that he didn’t scream when a looming figure came into view, standing in the entrance with the door firmly shut behind him.

«What’s up with you?» Bradley demanded. «Are you sick? You don’t smell right.»

Pete briefly considered drowning himself in the toilet bowl. «It’s nothing,» he said, trying to ignore the taste of vomit lingering in his mouth. «Food poisoning.»

Bradley took an imposing step forward. «You’re lying. I know your scent.»

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Pete brushed past him to the sink, intent on rinsing some indignity off of his face. The cold water was a blessing, especially as it washed over his tongue and took that awful taste with it. Bradley let him go, but he wasn’t happy about it. The scent of burnt caramel was setting the whole room on edge. 

It made sense, Pete realized as his logical faculties sluggishly came back to life. Every person’s scent had its own unique chemical make-up. You wouldn’t necessarily know what a shift in scent meant unless you had other cues to go off of, or if you knew the person well. Some were easier to deduce, like strong flares of emotion, but there was no real way for Bradley to understand that he was currently smelling pregnancy hormones. All he knew was that something was different, and his only clues were an ill-timed nose bleed and vomiting.

It was like a bucket of ice water dumped over Pete’s head. He blanched, straightening up and meeting his own wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. Bradley had watched his mother die from cancer. How could he be so stupid?

«Tell me.» Bradley pressed in closer, searching Pete up and down. 

«I’m not sick,» Pete rushed to reiterate. «I’ll be okay, it’s just–»

«Just what?» The alpha growled, his eyes edging on frantic. It wasn’t hard to deduce the anxiety flooding into his scent. 

Pete turned to face him, keeping his hands clenched at his sides. This was the last thing he’d been planning to do, but a bruised part of him still believed that despite all his anger, Bradley wouldn’t use this to hurt him. They’d been family once. That had to count for something.

He tried to stand tall, tried to keep his head held high, but whether or not he succeeded was lost to the drum of his pounding heart. «I’m pregnant.»

In a painful lapse of silence, Bradley just stared at him. Then, as if landing back on earth, his expression softened into a sort of bewildered relief. «Oh,» he said. «That’s… how far along?»

Pete rubbed at the back of his neck. «9 weeks, give or take.» He caught the alpha’s displeased look before he had the chance to say anything, and shot a warning glare of his own. «Do not start with me about the mission. I am fully capable of doing my job.»

Bradley radiated discontent, but that was to be expected. Any alpha would have a base instinct to reject a pregnant omega putting himself in harm's way. «Have you told anyone yet?»

«No,» the omega said, in no uncertain terms and firm enough that the alpha’s jaw clicked shut. «This isn’t anyone’s business but mine.» And yours, now.

His medical records had long since been sealed on account of privacy protections, following the nasty habit of alpha superiors to sneak into their omega subordinates’ records to find their heat cycle details. Without immediate concern for his or someone else's life, only a qualified medical professional - in this case, his doctor -  could release that information, and Pete had to sign off on it. Safe to say, he had not signed off.

«This could put you in danger,» Bradley said, apprehensively. «There are waivers that allow you to fly during instructions.»

Sure, he could apply for a waiver that might allow him to fly, but there was no chance in hell. Not after he made himself into such a sunny, unifying force among leadership. Besides, the big fear was G-forces causing a miscarriage in the first trimester. Oh, the fertility rates, he could hear them crying. It wasn’t so much about Pete as it was about protecting the fetus he was hosting.

A lifetime’s worth of being secondary to a potential bled into his mind. A third of the population had a sacred fantasy about putting a baby in him, and he was about to rip it back out. Either he’d be shunned into non-existence for going against his calling, or he’d be tied down and silenced while his body contorted against his will. The pup would be torn out of him and then he would watch in terror while they looked at his infant and found it lacking. They’d subject it to the same fate as him and he would be helpless to stop it.

«I’m always in danger.» He was cold all over as he stared a reluctant Bradley down. «You know what happens to people like me.»

The alpha swallowed, and capitulated. «Okay,» was all he said, but it was enough. Pete was lightheaded with relief as tightly wound tension unspooled go all at once. In a tone that was much less bureaucratic, Bradley asked, «Who’s the other parent?»

The omega startled them both by laughing. He pressed the back of his hand over his mouth to stifle it. «I have no idea.»

That earned him a puzzled look. «Can’t you guess?» 

«I slept with six people in one week.» Honestly, he still didn’t understand how he’d pulled it off. 

«Six?» Bradley squawked. He sounded almost impressed, before a shadow passed over his expression, followed by a sour shift in his scent that imposed upon Pete’s own like a physical force. «During a heat?»

The implication in those words stung like a slap across the face. Pete could count on one hand the amount of times he’d been made to feel small, and right now, the urge to dip his head in shame was nearly overpowering. «Yeah.» He took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets and throwing a stormy glance at the door. «I guess I’m easy to pick up.» 

Chastity had never been a core omega value of his. He’d been given hell for that more than once – the list of derogatory words he’d collected over the years went beyond his memory – but he never expected it from here. Bradley hated him for pulling his papers, that was fine, but Pete didn’t take him for a bigot.

Bradley faltered, his scent making an odd leap before flattening out into something more neutral. «I didn’t…» he started, struggling for words. With a sigh, he straightened into formal posture and lowered his gaze. «I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything offensive.»

That might be the first time Bradley had paid any mind to rank, and it was disconcerting. Pete tucked his hurt feelings away and made a flippant gesture with his hand. «Don’t worry about it. Just please, keep this conversation between us. I don’t need a pack of alphas breathing down my neck.»

Bradley’s eyes flared when they snapped back up. The copper ring around the iris faded as quickly as it had appeared, but it threatened to make Pete shiver. Clearly, he did not tolerate accusations of being a gossip. «Of course I will,» he said, brusquely. «But you need a plan. They’ll find out when you start showing.»

This was never going to end. «That won’t be an issue.»

Bradley blinked in disbelief. «You’re quitting?»

«What? No.» 

«Then what?»

«Jesus Christ.» Pete dragged his hand over his face. This could either be incredibly awkward, or downright hostile. «I’m terminating it.»

He expected a dark turn in Bradley’s scent, he expected the alpha to push into his space and demand he change his mind. He definitely expected scorn and judgment, but none of those things materialized. In fact, neither did the inverse. Bradley simply thought it over, and nodded his head. «That’s a pretty safe procedure these days.»

«Are–» you serious, he almost blurted out, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. His brain was like a poached egg at this point. All he wanted to do was sleep. «Yes. It is.»

An awkward silence settled over the room. Without any immediate stress spurring things along, it became painfully obvious that they had nothing to talk about anymore. Pete could say something stupid like, so, what have you been up to? but just the thought made him want to die, and he was pretty sure Bradley would smack him for it. He threw another glance at the door. «I should probably…»

Bradley hesitated, but eventually gave a tight nod. «Sir,» he said, just as Pete had gone around  him and taken hold of the doorhandle. The formality of the term made his skin itch. It was distant and strange; he longed for the way his nickname had sounded last night. 

He bit his teeth together hard enough his jaw hurt, and left without another word.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t expected things to thaw between them after such a woefully awkward heart-to-heart, and he supposed they didn’t, but Pete still found himself on the receiving end of some strange attention. 

Their training was going well. Several of the pilots were already standing out to him as the best potential picks, and he was privately pleased that Floyd – or Bob, as they called him – had made it this far. The kid had great potential, eyes like a hawk.

Still, there was a lack of synergy undercutting every interaction. No one was coming home unless they knew how to work as a unit. 

Hangman and Bradley squabbled during the exercises, both too fired up for their own good and both vying for the role of team leader. The others bickered too, sticking to their pairs like little cliques. All of this was predictable. 

What was not on his list of anticipated events was the fussing. 

Be it on the tarmac, in the classroom, or even in the damn hallways. There was always a seat available, a helping hand to carry something heavy, or an offered water bottle. Bradley was never explicit enough to raise any eyebrows, and he certainly didn’t stick around to talk, but it was there. Fussing. 

How was he even showing up all the time? Pete stood dumbly in the hangar, abruptly relieved of the box he was carrying, watching Bradley strut off like he hadn’t Houdini-ed out of thin air to grab it. Weren’t omega’s was supposed to be the maternal ones? Rooster was doing wonders in stereotype reform by transforming into the world’s most impersonal mother hen. 

It stung, knowing none of it would be happening if not for a pregnancy he didn’t even want. Pete sighed. He’d better go check his gear.

One of his brighter ideas came to him a day later, namely to organize an afternoon of beach bonding. Even Ice sent a thumbs up and an emoji that only looked slightly exasperated. There were too many fractures among the group to form a cohesive unit, and Cyclone had been on his ass about their progress. The best way to get a pack of alphas – and a spirited omega – to get along was to give them something to chase. 

Pete watched his plan unfold mostly from the sidelines. Maybe he threw a ball here and there, but he really did not need to go crashing into people in his current condition. 

He was wandering along where the waves just barely brushed over his feet, amusedly watching as Phoenix shoulder-checked Fanboy into the sand, when a flash of something dark zipped toward him. Reflex took over, his hand shooting out just in time to catch whatever it was before it could collide with his skull. 

It was the ball, he realized. He was holding the ball. The second thing he became aware of was that things were getting louder. Looking up left his heart sinking like a stone.

A pack of excited lunatics tore down the beach toward him. «No, no!» he tried, but it was useless. He stumbled backwards into the foam of an incoming wave and ran.

All that time fleeing for his life after fucking around with Ice’s stuff was really paying off, Pete thought, with a half-terrified, half-excilirated scream. He could probably just throw the ball and they’d go chasing after it like little puppy dogs, but the fact that none of them were fast enough to catch him made his blood sing with glee.

He cut a tight corner to dodge out of the way of Payback, twisting his torso in a move that should have floored him, but somehow didn’t. Where the fuck was he even going? He threw a frantic glance around and found all eyes on him, not the goddamn ball. 

Shit.

Another yelp burst out of him when he just barely hopped out of the way of Seresin’s clawing hands. He turned on his heel to follow like it was nothing, his long legs quickly gaining ground now that Pete had lost his headstart. This could only end one way, they both knew it. 

In a move driven by pure, unapologetic instinct, he flung the ball at Seresin’s head. 

He realized what he’d done just as it connected. «Oh,» he gasped, clapping his hand over his mouth. The force of impact was barely enough to jostle, but the shock of it had Seresin falling backwards with a shout. 

In a second of what felt like absolute stillness, they made eye contact. A shark-like grin spread across the alpha’s face. «Wrong move.» 

He leapt back up and lunged in all his 6 foot glory. Pete threw himself sideways and rolled in the sand to get away, but as he bounced back to his feet in search of an escape, noise at his back signaled the arrival of the pack. He was surrounded on all sides and they were closing, fast.

«Alright, alright,» the omega put his hands up in surrender. «You won. Let’s all be– shit!» 

They pounced on him in a chorus of victory cries. Pete disappeared in the mass of bodies, laughing breathlessly as he was nudged and scented and prodded from every direction. At one point, Phoenix pressed her cheek against his while Bob kissed him in the middle of the forehead. This was revenge for all the times he’d kicked their asses in the air, and they were not holding back. «Augh, mercy! Guys–» Someone – Seresin? – nearly tackled him to the ground. 

The air whooshed out of him as he was swept off the ground in one dizzying motion. He flailed for balance, his hands slapping onto bare skin that– oh. 

Caramel. 

«Fun’s over,» Bradley declared to a series of light-hearted boos. He was warm and sun-kissed, his sweet scent made saltier by the seawater clinging to his skin, accented further still by sunscreen. His hand on Pete’s thigh kept him steady, perched on the alpha’s shoulder like he weighed nothing at all.

This was not good. Not for his sanity, or for his hormonally tumultuous body. He was so horrifically turned on, it was taking every ounce of energy he had to keep it contained while the crowd dispersed. Then, damn him to hell, Bradley turned his big, brown eyes up at him. «Are you alright?» he asked. Like he was innocent.

No. No, no, no– yes? Yeah. No? «Yep. Thank you.»

«You fight dirty,» Bradley noted as he bent down, letting the omega hop off his shoulder. He nearly ate sand in the process, but somehow managed to keep his footing. When he looked up again, there was a reserved mirth in Bradley’s eyes. «Good aim.»

«That was mostly an accident.» Pete was suddenly very interested in brushing sand from his pants. It helped, he realized, that he was covered in a patchwork quilt of scents. It made it a lot more difficult to suss out the shift in his own.

God, he needed a cold shower. He shouldn’t react like this to people he worked with, let alone Bradley. He was a grown man behaving like a teenager in his first heat. This pregnancy was going to be the death of him.

«You look warm.» There was a hint of worry back in Bradley’s voice. He took a step closer before Pete could bolt, and sniffed. The omega just stood there, staring like a deer in the headlights while Bradley’s brows scrunched in concentration. A second or two later, his expression changed again. 

«You should get some air-con,» he said, plainly enough to anyone who might overhear. What they weren’t privy to was the slow, assessing once over.  «Heatstroke isn’t fun.»

He knew. «Uh-huh,» Pete said, already walking away. The weight of a knowing gaze clung to his back, making it more than tempting to run into the ocean. 

Mortified didn’t begin to cover it. The second he was alone and standing under an ice cold spray, the embarrassment of it all hit him like a freight train. If Bradley ever looked him in the eye again, it would be a miracle. 

I know your scent, Bradley had said. Clearly, Pete had underestimated just how well he knew it. When did he even have the time to study it so closely? Better yet, why did he still remember it?

And to think none of this would be happening if it wasn’t for the fucking fussing. 

***

The weather was bad that morning. That should’ve been the first warning. 

His pilots were doing better since their bonding day. They were commingling with one another, taking advice and critique without turning it into a confrontation. That was good.

Where it still lacked was in Bradley and Seresin. They nearly came to blows over something Pete didn’t quite catch, but the word goose had flitted past his senses and caught his attention right before the fight broke out.

The look Bradley had given him as he stepped between them was still burned behind his eyelids. Abyssal anger, swirling alongside grief and blame and agony.

He’d blinked it away and left after another caustic word to Seresin, but Pete remained frozen. Right where he’d been left some 30 years ago, still holding the absence of his RIO in trembling hands. 

So maybe that was why he didn’t heed the bad omen.

The exercise started off normally enough, but it didn’t take long before the two pilots were at each other's throats. Hangman made a suicidal maneuver to get behind Bradley for missile lock despite being on the same fucking team, and in the process, Pete got caught in an extremely bad position. His plane jerked before going into a violent spin, making him bang his head against the canopy. Cracks burst across his visor, distorting his vision while he fumbled madly to shove it away. 

He managed to regain control in less than 10 seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. His hands were shaking, he could barely get air into his lungs, and he couldn’t fucking see properly.

Controlling his descent with the phantom weight of a dead body in his arms was a complete blur. All Pete understood was that he needed to land, and fast. 

The shouting across the comms only dimly registered. He thought he heard himself say something, but he had no idea what it was.

Between one blink and the next, he was on the ground and hauling his trembling body out of the cockpit. He fell more than he jumped to the tarmac, and when he landed, his knees buckled. 

Someone caught him. No idea who– Oh. It was Bob, he dimly recognized his gentle, green tea-like scent. Pete’s breaths were coming in too fast, everything was still spinning, something was dripping into his mouth and he–

«You’re okay,» Bob was saying, a little frazzled but as calmly as he knew how. The taller omega leaned forward, nudging his cheek against Pete’s helmet. A soft purr rumbled in his chest, vibrating through them both. «You’re just bleeding a little.»

«The others?» Where was Bradley? Had he crashed? Was he alright, where–

«They’re landing now.» Bob did everything he could to project calm and safe despite his own jittering nerves. The sound of approaching voices made Pete flinch, but the firm presence of another omega’s scent kept him just grounded enough to stay sane. «You’ll be okay.»

«Yeah,» he breathed, standing pliant as they were surrounded by crew. He was pried free of Bob’s embrace and whisked away to the medical wing. By the time a piece of polycarbonate was pulled out of his face, his ears were still ringing. It had broken off from his visor to cut a line across the bridge of his nose and left cheek. 

Pete touched the strips with an absent sense of dread. It was pretty close to his eye. An inch higher, and his career would’ve been over. Just like that.

«Mitchell?» 

That voice was familiar. So was the scent that accompanied it. Hendricks stood by the end of the bed in casual clothing, like he’d been at home and jumped in the car the second he got the call. 

The omega wanted to say that he was fine, but his voice wasn’t quite working. After Goose, he stopped speaking for a week straight. It was like his vocal chords just shrivelled to nothing. This wasn’t necessarily the same, he could probably overpower it if he wanted to, but he just…

Maybe Hendricks saw something. Read something in the silence. «No one else sees your bloodwork,» he said, quietly. What could almost pass for a reassuring smile graced his stiff features. «I’ve sealed all of it.»

If Pete had the wherewithal to cry, he would’ve.

Later that afternoon, a little ping from his phone broke him out of his lonely misery. He didn’t have a concussion, nothing was broken, and everything looked fine with the pregnancy. Whether that last part was good news or not, he didn’t know. He was just happy he got to fly again without any issues.

It was Ice, his name glowing on the phone display. The message read, Are all your limbs still attached?

Pete’s lips twitched into a smile. You bet.

***

It was despite some insistent protests that Pete was finally allowed to leave, some 3 hours later, on the condition that he report back that evening for a follow-up. He couldn’t stand sitting there by himself anymore, trapped in a room that didn’t feel real, in a body that was progressively not his anymore.

He wanted another omega. He wanted his dad. He wanted Goose. Anyone. 

Maybe it was deliberate, by some instinct Pete couldn’t articulate, that he wandered around the hallways until the scent of green tea finally found him. He looked at Bob, who was already looking back with a nervous question forming on his lips, and he felt something inside of him break.

When the younger pilot met him in a crushing hug, it wasn’t as superior and subordinate. It wasn’t as pack, it wasn’t as soldiers. It was as two people who were all alone in a hostile place, aside from one another. 

This day was too close to the past and far too close to a catastrophic future, because it wasn’t just about his wings. An omega’s fall was a thousand miles longer than any alpha’s. If he had something and his grip slipped for even a second, someone else would take it for themselves like they’d been lying in wait for the opportunity. Bob understood that. He lived it, too.

«Why are you here?» he wondered after a little while, sounding hoarse and frail. «You should be home by now.»

«I wanted to be sure,» Bob answered. «That… it wasn’t just you here.»

A little light of warmth flickered to life in his chest. 

He’d never really had this before. Someone who understood without needing to be told.

Pete sighed, trying to summon some strength back. «Are they okay?»

«Hangman has a bruised jaw.» Bob didn’t sound particularly beat up about it. «Rooster’s knuckles aren’t much better. They’re fine.»

«Alphas,» he muttered. Couldn’t turn his back for 5 minutes without a fight breaking out. A headache was already building at the thought of telling Seresin off for his recklessness. At least he had an extensive reference catalogue to take inspiration from. 

He had no idea what to do about Bradley. That was a bridge he’d cross when he got there. 

It became apparent, one more time, that the universe favored Pete Mitchell as her favorite punching bag. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind before the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. They paused for a moment, only to resume at a much quicker pace.

«Maverick?» Bradley called out, rounding the corner down the hall. 

Bob went into high alert, and in a move so quick it bordered on a whiplash, he swung them around to shield Pete behind his back. The reason why revealed itself a moment later. A scent not dissimilar to a gasoline fire pressed in on them from down the hallway.

Pete stiffened at the warning growl tearing up Bob’s throat, a sound that was exceedingly rare from an omega. Deeper and more resonant, it packed a heavier punch than almost any other social cue. It stopped Bradley dead in his tracks about 10 feet away from them. «Are you rational?» Bob asked, without a trace of his usual awkwardness. He was cold, focused. 

Bradley’s scent shifted into something marginally calmer. «I– yes. Yes, I’m sorry. I just need to see him.» When that elicited no response, he added a desperate, «Please.»

The grip around him didn’t ease. Thinking fast, Pete managed a soft purr that finally broke the stalemate. «Thank you.» He squeezed Bob’s forearm, leaning forward in hopes that the omega could see just how much he meant it. «It’s alright. He’s fine.»

There was a brief spell of hesitance, and a dubious look over at Bradley, before he was finally let go. Bob stepped back and gave him a once over, but ultimately dipped his head. «Sir,» he said, «I’m here if you need me.»

They shared a look that left a glow of pride in Pete’s chest. This kid was gonna go far, and he’d be watching every step. «Go find your pilot.» 

With that, he was off. Pete watched him go in a daze, forgetting where he was all over again, until the scent of alpha was abruptly right in front of him. Bradley grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into an empty office, locking the door behind them. Pete didn’t get a chance to say anything before shaking hands were cupping his face and turning him from side to side. 

«It isn’t deep,» Bradley whispered, his shoulders slumping. The relief was never made to last though, because his nerves came back tenfold a moment later. «You could have died.»

«I didn’t,» Pete helpfully supplied. He was trying to adjust to the paradigm shift in attitude. This was not indifference. It wasn’t apathy, it wasn’t even anger.

Bradley’s lips thinned into a hard line as he traced the cut across the omega’s face again. In what seemed like an unconscious move, he tugged Pete closer. «I’m gonna kill him.»

Pete shook himself free, catching a glimpse of the alpha’s reddened knuckles. The idiot could’ve broken his hand, did no one teach him how to throw a punch? Both him and Hangman could be taken out of commission, putting the whole mission in jeopardy. «No, you’re not.»

«You almost–» Bradley cut himself off with a sharp exhale. Pete could only grunt when he was dragged in close, balancing on his tip-toes while the alpha’s nose pressed tightly into the crook of his neck. The distress was palpable, like all of the adrenaline was crashing and had no other outlet. It poured out in waves of smothering scent that saturated Pete completely. 

It left his mind reeling. Why now? What changed? The fussing wasn’t like this, it wasn’t so… scared. 

Pete’s eyes widened. Of course.

This was a young, unmated alpha who had found out that an omega in his circle was pregnant, and then said omega got hurt. His over-wrought instincts must be screaming at him to protect and shield, but he could do neither. This was an act of desperate overcompensation. Scenting, if nothing else, let the world know that Pete was guarded.

«Rooster,» he said, hoping the call-sign would remind him of where he was. Heat was creeping up his face with how Bradley’s lips were brushing dangerously close to his scent gland. It was too intimate, too public, too much. «Rooster– ah, listen to me, I’m fine. You have to let go.»

It wasn’t working. There was something too raw and entirely too frantic in the way Bradley was clinging on. «You need to snap out of it.» Pete tried to sound authoritative, but it was difficult when each shift of their bodies sent sparks shooting through his core. 

A morose growl and a possessive squeeze around his waist threatened to wipe his mind blank. By some wild fucking miracle, his voice came out as the very antithesis of what he actually was; clear and absolute. «Leutenant Bradshaw.»

That, finally, penetrated the haze. Bradley went ramrod straight, his dark irises nearly encircled by white as his flushed face fought to remain stoic. Pete staggered from the sudden lack of support, but he was allowed to catch himself this time. 

The first thing he realized when his vision stopped spinning was that holy fuck, he reeked of alpha. Of Bradley. There was no hope of disguising it as something casual, he was covered to the point of a claim. «Great,» he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Bradley’s warning harmonized terribly with Pete’s yelp. «I’m fine. I’m fine!» he snapped when the alpha stepped toward him. That feeling from the beach clearly wasn’t a one-off, because heat pulsed through his veins. If Bradley came any closer, there was no telling how thorough the humiliation would be. «Shit. Okay. Any bright ideas for how we’re gonna fix this?»

«…I have a scent neutralizing soap,» Bradley offered sullenly. 

Pete narrowed his eyes. Those weren’t cheap, and there was rarely a need for something that strong on a day-to-day basis «What for?»

Something in his tone must’ve ticked the alpha off, because he shook himself free of his brooding fog and raised a challenging brow. «So I can fuck whoever I want without people sticking their noses in my business.»

«I– wow.» Pete didn’t know why it felt like he’d been spat on, but it did. Something scratched up his throat that he couldn’t articulate beyond a furious need to pick apart Bradley’s scent for even the faintest clue. He cleared his throat and gestured sharply. «Let’s go, then.»

It was a feat that they weren’t seen, especially with how inelegantly they moved down the hallways. Pete kept one hand on the wall the entire way, caught on the edge of a dizzy spell that wouldn’t quite manifest. Bradley didn’t try to intervene again, but he was never more than a half step away, looming like a guard dog.

The proximity threatened to overwhelm him with the memories of what had just occurred, but he refused to linger on it. An alpha was in distress because of some unpredictable circumstances, that storm of turmoil was impossible to control once it took hold. It didn’t help that they’d been pack once, before Pete destroyed that bond. Now, that was essentially what they had become again. Ill-fitting or not, all the pilots here shared a bond, and Pete was their quasi-leader. 

Omega lead packs weren’t unheard of, but they weren’t offered the same legitimacy as traditional packs were. When an omega was of the highest rank, the internal dynamics shifted. The traits seen as most valuable – assertiveness, dominance, power, et cetera – became devalued currency. Authority wasn’t made brittle, but it was different. A village rather than an organization. It worked just as well as any other pack dynamic, which was why archaic power structures sneered at it. 

It definitely shared part of the blame as to why Pete couldn’t get a promotion, though he wasn’t exactly reaching for the stars on that matter. 

He sighed, dragging his spare duffle out of his gym locker and rifling through it for a towel and a change of clothes. A plastic bottle was tossed his way, and he reached behind himself to snatch it out of the air. Even with the cap still on, Pete grimaced at the chemical scent of the soap. «It reeks. You never smell like this.»

There was an odd pause that had him glancing to where Bradley sat on one of the benches. An enigmatic look met him. «I haven't had a reason to use it since I got here,» he said, slow and measured. He’d unzipped the top of his uniform and tied the sleeves around his waist, leaving him in his black undershirt. Silver dog-tags glinted in the dip between his pecs, where the fabric was pulled taught. Pete tore his gaze away, biting hard at his lower lip when another wave of arousal threatened to wash him away. What the fuck was wrong with him? «It’s not that strong after you rinse it off.»

He couldn’t stay in this room anymore. Grabbing his things, he hurried into the showers without even undressing. Never in his career had he been shy about nudity – he’d made a blatant point not to be – but right now, his principles weren’t important. Not when he was being watched. 

Why was Bradley still here? Did he feel responsible? Were there still lingering effects from his panic attack? Pete all but ripped his clothes off in his fight against the tornado of nervous questions rampaging in his head. 

The warm water finally spraying over his body was so good he had to stifle a moan. He stood there for a long moment with his face tilted up into the down-pour, imagining that all his problems were disappearing down the drain. 

He snorted, and then he nearly choked from inhaling a lungful of water. Tilting his head away from the spray, he fumbled for the soap while rubbing at his stinging nose. His problems might clog the fucking pipes. Gross.

The soap smelled even worse trapped inside the steam of the shower. Its pungent odor didn’t lessen at all as he scrubbed it across every inch of his skin – in fact, it got worse. His stomach rolled with nausea, and before he knew it, the bottle clattered to the floor while both his forearms were braced against the wall. 

Breathe through it, he told himself, but the pressure kept building until his legs were shaking and tears were stinging in his eyes. He gagged, but nothing came up. It was just sitting there and torturing him, to the point he shoved his fingers down his throat just to make it stop. 

It only succeeded in making his body convulse with another dry heave. Spit dribbled from his mouth, nothing else.

The wet tiles slapped against his palms and dug painfully into his knees, but he barely noticed. Black dots danced across his vision and he knew, distantly, that he needed help. 

When he tried to say as much, nothing came out. Words weren’t working, his voice wasn’t cooperating, everything was spinning. Something– he had to do…

Talk to me, Goose, please talk to me. 

A sound he hadn’t made since that fateful day in the ocean spilled out of him. High and raw, pulled from somewhere deep in his primal being, begging for the man in his arms to respond. I’m hurting, you’re scaring me, please wake up, reassure me, come back–

A strong force abruptly captured his body. Pete made a jerky attempt to flee, but there was no give. «It’s me,» Bradley rumbled, the sensation close to the way omegas purred. Pete had never known an alpha capable of doing such a thing. At the immediate and obvious calming effect, Bradley repeated the act. It sounded awkward, trapped somewhere between a hum and a growl, but it was a lifeline. 

«What’s wrong?» he asked, when things were a bit steadier.

«Nothing.» Pete made another effort to free himself, but that was quickly thwarted. Fuck. «Sorry, I overreacted.»

A disagreeing huff brushed over his scalp. Bradley pressed his nose against his hair and drew a breath. The act was so casually intimate it ached. «You don’t have to go through this alone.»

«You’re just saying that because you’re an alpha and I’m knocked up,» Pete lamented, feeling dumber than he had in years. He was a shaking, fumbling mess, forcing the man he abandoned and betrayed to glue him back together. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t what he’d promised. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

Bradley tensed, but instead of shoving him away, he crushed the omega closer in a move that was nothing short of territorial. «Don’t piss me off,» he warned. «I want to help you. Can’t you see that?»

«No.» Pete had a dose of hysteria bubbling in his voice. «I didn’t know I meant anything to you.»

There was a long silence in which Pete became all too aware of Bradley’s soaked clothes sticking to his naked skin. He hadn’t even taken his uniform off, he’d just run in here like a madman. 

«You do,» he eventually admitted. It was a quiet thing, nearly lost in the sound of falling water. «Too much.»

«Too–?»

A startled noise was muffled when Bradley’s palm covered his mouth, and he kissed him. Right over his scent gland, light yet lingering. Eyelashes fluttered against his neck while a full body shiver took hold of him. 

There was no way to write this off as anything but what it was. Heavy, proprietary, and the furthest thing from platonic pack affection one could get. This meant something that he wasn’t ready for, he should demand that Bradley stop, but he…

God, he didn’t know. He didn’t understand what he wanted, if he was even allowed to want. Clutching Bradley’s wrist got him nothing but more confusion. The alpha pressed in closer, leaving open mouthed kisses across his scent gland. There wasn’t a whisper of the teeth that would make this permanent, but the implication was there. 

Molten desire pooled below Pete’s waist, and he was certain, even despite the water, that slick was starting to wet his thighs. The chain of command didn’t matter, personal histories were null; all he wanted was to lose himself in the alpha behind him. 

He could picture it, too. Vivid images of himself arching back into Bradley’s touch, tipping his head further to the side while the alpha fucked his brains out. He’d cry, beg for it, right here in the open where anyone could walk in. They could see everything for all he cared. Let it be known who Bradley belonged to, once and for all. He strained against himself as the sting of his elongating canines joined in the cacophony of sensations, prompting a pleased hum from Bradley, whose nails were distinctly sharper. They were both slipping. It would be so easy to let go, to just…

Wait. Pete peeled his eyes open, his foggy mind struggling for control. What was he doing? What were they–

Bradley’s tongue flattened over the scent gland while his hand strayed, squeezing one of Pete’s pecs. Another pulse of slick made him screw his eyes shut. It felt so good, so safe, but nothing about this was remotely appropriate. The alpha was in a vulnerable state of mind and he– oh, fuck.

A small noise of distress was all he managed to voice, but it was enough. Bradley paused and leaned back. «You okay?» he asked, sounding raspy.

Just breathing was difficult, let alone talking. Pete squeezed his legs together and wished he could just sink into the floor. «What are we doing?» 

The alpha eased up more fully now. «Isn’t it obvious?»

No, it really wasn’t. Bradley hated him, for one. For two, Pete was 20 some years his senior, not to mention the best friend of his late father. Nothing about this was obvious and everything about it should be repulsive. Except it wasn’t, somehow, and he had no idea what that meant. «This is insane,» the omega feebly protested.

«Mm,» Bradley hummed vaguely. «Everything about you is insane.» 

There was a line he’d heard before. «You’re young, you’re– handsome. You could have anyone. I’m…» 

«Older?» 

«Freudian,» he corrected helplessly.

Bradley had the nerve to laugh. «A little,» he allowed, like it was no big deal. 

The alpha’s hand slid down Pete’s body until it reached his stomach. The muscles there rippled at the sensation, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was so slight it might just be nothing at all, but he could swear there was a curve that hadn’t been there before. 

«Holy shit,» Pete whispered, shrinking back against Bradley like he could get away from it. It didn’t work, the miniscule bump stayed where it was, and all the blood cascaded out of the omega’s head. «No, no, no. I don’t want you.» Cold raced up his arms and he knew, the second black spots encroached on his vision, that he wasn’t gonna make it.

«Mav–»

«I’m about to pass out.» He trailed off into a near-incomprehensible mumble by the end of the sentence. Bradley’s voice was far away and underwater, disappearing with the rest of the world as the lights all dimmed.

The last thing Pete was aware of before it went dark was the sensation of being weightless.

Chapter Text

He awoke with a start. Flying up in bed, he threw disoriented looks around the room. 

«Sir,» said a familiar voice. Pete snapped around to find Bob, sitting leaned forward in a chair. 

«How did I…?»

The omega’s brow creased in concern, and he glanced to the left, where Phoenix was standing at his side. She was tense, but that was more than likely because she was the only alpha watching over two antsy omegas. One of whom, Pete suspected, was rather special to her. 

It was plain to anyone who knew what to look for. The way her eyes tracked him, how she angled her body toward him without even realizing it. 

Phoenix met his gaze with a questioning twitch of her brows. Pete had to look away. His other half in the sky was gone; he couldn’t explain to her that the echoes were loudest wherever she happened to be. 

«Rooster found you.» Bob gently grabbed his attention back. «He said you fainted in the locker room.»

He blinked, before staring down at his clothed body. Not a standard gown, but his own white t-shirt and cotton sweat pants. A furious blush threatened to turn him bright red, staved off only by how little blood currently occupied his head. «Oh,» he said. «Damn.»

«Doc doesn’t think it’s anything serious,» Phoenix chimed in. «They’re just keeping you for observation.»

Bob nodded. «He said you seem dehydrated.»

Well, wasn’t this embarrassing. He gave them what he hoped was a nonchalant look. «You don’t have to hang around here. Get some rest, you’ve got a big day coming up.»

Bob hesitated, but Phoenix leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. Something unspoken passed between them and the omega finally relented with a small sigh. «I’ll let Rooster know you’re okay,» Phoenix said while they were on their way out the door. 

For a moment, Pete considered asking if she could just say he died. He’d sneak out the window and disappear over the horizon. «Thank you.»

When the door closed and he was finally alone, there wasn’t an ounce of the relief he’d been hoping for. Pete dropped back against the pillows, but he couldn’t get comfortable no matter how much he rolled around and kicked at the covers. He ended up on his side with his back facing the door, curled up like an old dog. With both arms hugging his middle, Pete allowed himself a miserable whine.

There were several obvious reasons as to why Bradley hadn’t stayed, chief of which being how wildly suspicious it would look. Still, rationality didn’t matter to the ache inside his chest. He wanted Bradley here, he wanted his– he wanted an alpha he trusted. Not even his scent lingered anymore, washed away by that godforsaken soap. 

All that was left was the phantom brush of lips against his neck, of hands holding him tight. The omega shivered, clasping his hand over his scent gland in a pitiful attempt to chase the sensation. 

He must’ve done something wrong again, to end up exactly like he always did. Alone. Usually he could narrow it down to what he did, but this time there was nothing but a murky pool of confusion. Nothing to fix, nothing to explain.

One second, he was wanted. Be it a rational want or not, it had existed. The next? Well. He was alone, pregnant, and muffling the urge to cry into the stiff pillows of the medical wing.

It reminded him of when he was in a very similar place 15 years ago, after the incident. Almost to the day, in fact. A canyon of misery split open inside him and he wondered, once again, why he’d been left behind in time.

Hadn’t Pete wanted distance? Wasn’t this better? He didn’t feel any better. 

Oh, Goose. What the fuck have I done?

***

He didn’t see Bradley at all between exercises and classes over the next several days. What little contact they had was stilted. Nothing beyond perfectly professional boundaries that Pete could almost call it polite.

He hated it. The only thing keeping him from spiralling into reckless stupidity were his conversations with Ice, both through text and when Pete showed up at his doorstep in the evenings like a kicked puppy looking for comfort.

In truth, he could see that his friend was waning, but Ice had always been someone who took care of everyone else. Pete suspected that he found comfort in having someone to look after again, so he kept showing up. The pain of watching Ice fade away was beyond any description, but he stayed. Of course he stayed.

That morning he had just been informed that he couldn’t come over anymore. The chemo had wiped out his immune system completely; even a mild virus would be lethal. They didn’t want whatever time he had left to be spent in anguish. 

No one had told him that his hug with Ice the night before would be his last one. God, he never would’ve let go if he knew. The omega buried his face in his shaking hands, sitting on the edge of his bed with no strength left to get up.

He was wrung out and foggy by the time he got to Top Gun. He didn’t know what to do about grief for someone who was still alive. Warm and breathing, sending little quips and articles throughout the day because he knew Pete was scatterbrained. It was like an explosion suspended in time, moving toward him in a slow, inevitable collision course. 

That entire morning was off balance. They got into the air, which took some of the cotton out of Pete’s head by giving him something he knew he could control. Until.

«Birdstrike!»

The whole world turned into an ear-splitting scream as he watched  Phoenix and Bob spiral out of the sky with two flaming engines.

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh god. Not again, this could not be happening again. 

Getting to the ground took a fucking eternity, no matter how recklessly he pushed every limit to get there. Pete launched himself out of his plane and completely ignored the lightning-strike of pain in his ankle as he shoved past the emerging crew and tore down the tarmac toward whoever had a phone, radio, anything.

«Does anyone have eyes on them?» he shouted over the crowd, barging past the people in his way until he got to the front, where ATCs were anxiously monitoring their systems and the radios. No one answered. Pete seriously considered hurling a chair at the wall. «Hello! Eyes?»

The crowd flinched away from him, but he didn’t care. Two of his pilots were unaccounted for after their plane hit the ground in a fucking fireball. Two of his. 

He was about ready to take the plane out again to find them himself, but the abrupt appearance of a caramel-whiskey scent stopped him. Bradley slotted in behind him, one hand on his shoulder. They shared a brief, wide-eyed look.

«They found them,» the person nearest Pete spoke up, and the omega surged forward to hear better. 

«How are they? Are they alright?»

«They’re checking, one moment…» She frowned, her lips tightly pressed together. Worst case scenarios were running rampant in Pete’s head. Thoughts of having to inform the families that he lost their children, of having to stand at their funerals like he didn’t fail them.

«They’ll be okay,» Bradley murmured close to Pete’s ear, squeezing his shoulder. 

«They’re both unharmed. Superficial scrapes and bruises,» the ATC reported not a second later. «They’re en route to the hospital.»

«Fuck,» Pete breathed, and before he had time to think better of it, he turned around and threw his arms around Bradley’s neck. It couldn’t last long with so many people watching, so when a returning embrace didn’t come within the first few seconds, Pete let go. Winded, dizzy with relief, and already running for his motorcycle, he pretended not to notice how his heart splintered.

***

His pilots were safe. Pale and a little beat up, but fine. Phoenix refused to leave Bob’s side, sitting on the foot of his bed like she’d been anchored there, but doctors said they’d be back to Top Gun in the morning if nothing else came up. 

The relief of seeing them threatened to take him off his feet. The nurses had barely left the room when Pete snatched Bob into a crushing hug, rubbing his scent into the younger omega’s hair while a purr rumbled in his chest. He turned to Phoenix next, and seeing her stricken expression, her dark eyes glued on her RIO like she thought he might disappear if she looked away, warped all sense of time. He cupped her face, urging her to look up at him by giving her a little shake. «You didn’t lose him,» he reminded her firmly. «He’s alive because of you.»

Tears welled up along her lashline, but they didn’t spill. «Yeah,» she said, shakily. He didn’t know what she knew of his past, but from the way her faint smile took shape, it seemed like she’d understood something. 

Leaving them tore him apart, but he knew he shouldn’t hover. They were capable adults who were set to be discharged in the morning, and he had a job to do. 

Still. He definitely took his time.

***

Pete had only gotten home about an hour ago, but he was far too wound up to sleep. That was how he found himself in the garage, fussing over his bike.

It should be therapeutic, but with the adrenaline gone and his pilots accounted for, the only thing left for his over-active brain to chew on was death, and Bradley. Pete was about ready to throw in the towel and go cry himself to sleep when something unexpected derailed his downward spiral. 

The scent of dried grass and stinging nettles wafted toward him from the open garage door. He lifted his head just in time to see Hangman come around the corner. «Seresin.» Pete straightened up in alarm. «Everything alright?»

«Yes, sir,» Hangman drawled, though Pete noted a certain tension in his posture that contradicted the cocky front. He eyed the switch on the wall for a moment, then pressed it as he passed. The door slid shut behind him, and he stopped a little ways away with his hands folded neatly behind his back. The overhead light fell over his jaw, highlighting a patch of mottled, yellow and blue skin.

When the silence didn’t break, Pete took the initiative. «If this is about the your fuck up, I’ve already given you an earful about that. We’re good.»

Seresin’s eyes lingered on where the cut still traced across Pete’s face. «Yeah, well. Didn’t feel like I made it up to you properly.»

Pete gave a good-natured eyeroll and got back to his tinkering. «Buy me flowers and we’ll call it even,» he said, with a dismissive gesture over his shoulder. «Like I told you already, you need to get your ego in check. It’s you who’s gonna have to live with it when you get someone hurt.»

The scent of nettles was closer now, sharper in its proximity. Pete glanced to the left at where Seresin was leaning his hip against the wood counter, arms folded across his chest. «That’s what I’m trying to do. I cut up a pretty face and put my captain in the infirmary.» He winked at the omega’s exasperated eyebrow raise. «Sir. It’s heavy on the conscience.»

Well, wasn’t that something. It had been a while since he’d been so blatantly hit on by a younger pilot. «Lighten the load by helping me out here,» he said, gesturing at his bike. «I’m changing the battery. You go fetch.»

Amused by the flippant attitude, Seresin went along with it. A couple hours passed that way, with Pete giving orders between surprisingly pleasant small-talk and the alpha following idly along. He wasn’t much of a mechanic, as evidenced by his blank stare when Pete asked him a technical question, but he knew his way around well enough.

Momentarily satisfied, the omega wiped his hands off on his thighs. He stood up and turned with the intent to find the toolbox, but Seresin was in his way. He stumbled a half-step backwards and was stopped from going any further by a firm hand on the small of his back.

This was a bad idea, a little voice in the back of his head tried to warn him, but Seresin smelled good. Easy on the eyes too, Pete could admit that, and he certainly wasn’t dense enough to think that it hadn’t been leading up to this. So, he smiled lazily. «Smooth.» 

«That’s me.» Seresin moved them to the song playing over the radio, his eyes roaming over the omega’s body as the shadows shifted along its contours. Leaning in close, he murmured, «Been trying to figure you out all night. Can’t decide if you’re into it or not.»

«Hm.» Pete angled his face away, looking up at the ceiling in thought. Seresin was pleasant company, he was warm, handsome, and he wanted him. That was usually more than enough, but right now…

Seresin’s hands slid into the back-pockets of Pete’s jeans as he twirled them in gentle, swaying circles. «Ah, I see.» He pulled them closer together, his grip tightening. A new note entered his scent, something demanding and musky. «You got someone on your mind?» 

Pete’s body responded without much input from his rational mind, leaving him warm and a little buzzed. He ducked his head with a wry smile. «You could say that.»

Because it wasn’t just Bradley. He was in free-fall. He was alone, grieving, and terrified. On top of that, there was the pregnancy. It was growing a little bigger every day, pushing him out of his own body. His reflection was consumed by the tiny curve on his stomach, by his noticeably fuller chest. Questions and paranoia plagued his every moment, like what if brass caught on? What if Cyclone asked the wrong question, or somehow gained access to his medical records? 

The fact that he was terminating it didn’t lessen that burden. Getting through the day was like crawling through a minefield and he was so beyond exhausted, there was no way to articulate it.

Couldn’t something be easy, just for a little bit? Being desired for sex, that was something he knew. He understood perfectly what it meant to be an object in someone else’s hands, depersonalized into whatever they needed him to be. It was the one part of his life where people were consistently happy with him.

«Need a distraction?» Seresin dipped his head to chase Pete’s gaze. 

He didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to be a person. «It can’t go beyond this. You don’t get to court me.»

Seresin mimed a slap to his cheek. «Yes, sir,» he said. Like it was funny. «Your heart is spoken for, I get it. Lucky guy. Or gal,» he added, sagely.

Pete really couldn’t help how he chuckled. His heart was roadkill in a ditch somewhere, mangled and fly-infested after the continuous war with his brain. «It’s complicated,» he said, leaning his forehead against the alpha’s collarbone. «Everything is a fucking mess.»

Seresin caught him by the chin, tilting his face up until they were nose to nose. «Let me make it easier for you,» he said, with all the suave charm of a romantic hero from the big screen. It was so picture-esque and beautiful it circled back to being impersonal.

Pete’s eyes fluttered shut when he was pulled into a kiss that didn’t stay soft for long. He couldn’t pinpoint when the needle dropped exactly, but between one second and the next, tools were clattering off the work bench as the omega was deposited onto it. He clawed at blonde hair while equally demanding hands groped his waist, their tongues intertwining in a heady rush of spit and arousal.

It was perfect. Even as his chest slammed against wood, even as his clothes were torn down and his wet hole burned from the stretch of Seresin pushing into him, it was perfect.

«You can’t get pregnant, can you?» the alpha asked, sounding only half-serious. 

Pete knocked his forehead against the bench with a loud laugh. «No.»

«Just making sure, sweetheart.»

All talk of pregnancy was blessedly absent from that point on. Pete lost track of time – and himself – beyond the foggy haze of his body being used. Seresin was a wild card, switching their positions and dragging Pete along until he couldn’t say his own name anymore. 

He was standing with his cheek pressed against the wall and his wrists pulled behind his back when the alpha’s rhythm stuttered for the first time. Pete was desperate for relief, but there was no friction to help him. «Touch me,» he hiccuped, shifting his hips to dislodge the bruising grip there. 

Seresin nipped at his ear for speaking out of turn, but mercifully closed his hand over Pete’s cock. Stars exploded across his vision when, not even a minute later, he went crashing over the edge with enough force his knees buckled under him. Seresin caught him with a curse, spreading cum all over his stomach in the process.

«Hang in there, baby,» he ground out, burying his face against the back of Pete’s neck as his pace turned fast and brutal. «I’m not done.»

Grab me, a wretched little voice whispered in the back of his mind. Grab my neck. 

The omega whimpered, tears springing to his eyes as he flattened himself against the wall to get away from that thought, at the fear running through his body just picturing it. He wasn’t supposed to want that. Why would anyone want that?

Seresin chased after him with another growl, this one pitched low enough to arrest the omega’s limbs in a second of locked stillness. He breathed out raggedly and went pliant.

Each hard thrust burned a little more than the last. He was worked raw and spent, his body pleading for permission to collapse into a boneless heap, but it wasn’t given. Before long, his blunt fingernails were digging into his palms while his broken cries filled the room. He couldn’t feel anything but overstimulated pain anymore, so far gone in the sensation that he didn’t notice Seresin had stopped until the warm slide of semen down his thighs signaled the end of it.

«Damn,» the alpha breathed, still crowding close. He hadn’t knotted, which Pete was privately grateful for. «You’re a wild ride, Maverick.»

Pete tried to say something tactical, but the only sound he managed to make was a stuttered groan. Perhaps getting the hint, Seresin eased up, pulling out with a hiss. Another gush of slick and cum immediately followed and Pete just wanted to be done with it all. Sleep for a century in a clean bed that smelled like salted caramel and a little whiskey. 

«Wow, there,» Seresin said, catching him before he could embarrass himself by falling on his ass. «Let’s get you to bed, huh?»

«Mm,» Pete mumbled vaguely. When he was swept up off the floor, a sharp twinge from his lower back had him gasping. «Were you trying to kill me?»

A quiet laugh shook Seresin’s chest as he scented the air and searched around for Pete’s bedroom. He found it on the third try. «Not again, no.»

«I don’t believe you.» The omega instantly began to purr when he was set down on his bed, blindly reaching for his duvet to bunch it up in a vaguely circular shape. 

«You happen to be a bit irresistible,» Seresin said, softly. Pete glanced up to find an expression that was entirely too affectionate for this no-strings fuck, and he pretended not to notice by busying himself with his nest that didn’t smell right. Did he leave Bradley’s shirt here or in the bathroom? 

«You have an early start tomorrow,» Pete said instead of acknowledging the words. It was not his finest or most subtle work, so when silence followed, guilt nagged at him. He looked up again and offered a smile that he really did mean. «It was good. Thank you for helping me out, it’s just…»

«Complicated.» Seresin finished for him. «I guess I was hoping I’d change your mind.»

«Sorry,» Pete said, with a helpless little shrug. 

The alpha nodded, his hands clenching at his hips before he, abruptly enough that there was no time to stop it, caught hold of Pete’s face and pulled him in for another kiss. His surprised noise was muffled, and though he wanted to push away, he quickly discounted that thought. Maybe on a different day it wouldn’t have been an issue, but the will to pick this battle just wasn’t in him. Dealing with the repercussions of a refusal on top everything else sounded like a nightmare. 

So, he gave up and let it continue. In a way, it was nice. It allowed him to forget for a little while longer. 

It ended, as these things always did, with another round of fucking. Pete zoned out before long, getting lost in the lazy rhythm. Seresin’s face was buried in the crook of his neck while the omega stared up at the ceiling, rocking aimlessly.

This wasn’t easy anymore. 

His nest was ruined now. The sheets were saturated with the scent of nettles and dry grass, leaving no room for pretending. Maybe that was when Pete started to question whether he’d made a mistake by indulging this. Everything hurt even worse, the absence in the center of him had only grown. There was hardly anything left of him. 

An orgasm rippled through him, catching his attention. He gasped softly, and lay passive as lips claimed his own again.The sensation was removed, like it was happening to someone else entirely and Pete was just observing from afar. 

He wished he could see the clock on his nightstand, but that required turning his head, and the hand on his jaw didn’t allow for that. 

How long was it until morning?

Chapter Text

Sunlight. That was the first thing that struck him as he came back to himself. Or, more accurately, crawled out of whatever nightmare was just beyond his recollection. The sun warmed his clammy face, which meant it had to be morning. Pete looked around to the sheer white curtains that swayed around the open window, leading the breeze to brush over his naked skin. He sat up with a shiver, glancing around the room. Yeah. It was morning.

The other side of the bed had a still-warm impression on it, but no one was there. Pete trained his ears and nose, only to come up empty. He was alone. 

A quiet breath left him. He looked down at his lap, where his fingers were curled into loose fists. 

A fuzzy feeling unbalanced him. Like he was out of step with the laws of gravity, sitting on a mattress that was tilted at a 45 degree angle. He watched his own thoughts laboriously dragging themselves by, saw the words, recognized his own voice, but it was behind a glass wall. Like someone had put him in a fishbowl and a broken duplicate of him was left to steer.

It was weird. Pete blinked at his fingers, twitched them, but he couldn’t feel it when they moved.

The rustle of papers caught by the draft snagged his attention, and just as he turned to look, something stirred. He wasn’t alone in the fishbowl, he realized. Something was there, something dark. Insatiable, like the green-dyed pacific ocean. 

Pete’s lip trembled. Not again. He didn’t want to feel like this again. «Goose,» he whispered, and was startled by the sound of it, like he was hearing it from a recording. «Talk to me.»

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. The omega forced himself to inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth. Goose wasn’t speaking to him because he was gone, nothing would ever bring him back. Pete clung to that razor-edged reminder and let the pain of it ease him back into his body, piece by bloody piece. 

The extent of his fuck-up revealed itself in pieces. The first, and most abrasive, was the scent of stale cum and dried slick. It was all over the bed, his legs, his…

Pete ran his fingertips over his stomach. There was no denying the slight bulge anymore. Innocuous enough to someone who didn’t know what they were looking at, but a sign of complete despair to him. 

Dried semen stuck to the hairs trailing below his navel, flaking off at the light friction. Nausea shot up his throat and he inhaled sharply, wrenching his eyes away. 

Dull, throbbing pain radiated from his lower back when he curled in on himself, pressing his forehead to his knee and hugging his legs close. 

A muffled sob barely disturbed the silence. 

***

Pete kept it pushing with painkillers and a high collar. Getting into the cockpit was a relief and a terror all at once, but the hop was good, and he kept it under control. If anything, he was even sharper than usual. If anyone noticed how he couldn’t pay attention to their excitable conversations after post-flight, they didn’t say anything.

At least Bob and Phoenix were back. Seeing them was the only thing that sparked actual emotion from him.

When the day was over and the prospect of going home to his misery was unavoidable, he trudged back into his office with cotton for brains and a limp that he couldn’t quite disguise anymore. His nose was buried in his phone in an attempt to read a meandering email from Cyclone, but he gave up on his 6th attempt at understanding it and shoved the device back in his pocket. 

Which was how he finally noticed the flowers. A cluster of what looked like grocery store roses on their last limb. Attached was a card, and when Pete finally got his legs to work again, he went over and flipped it.

Even? ;) was all it read. 

«Asshole,» he muttered, shaking his head. They were more than a little even, Seresin surely remembered that, considering he’d left hickeys up and down the omega’s neck. 

A creaking floorboard had Pete startling out of his goddamn mind. «Who’re those from?» Bradley asked, in a tone that failed at being entirely neutral. «They’re about to wilt.»

«It’s nothing,» the omega grumbled, massaging at his chest in an effort to manually calm his heart down. Bradley had been such a stellar example of detached professionalism, Pete had developed a misled confidence in his ability to fuck off unnoticed. «Scaring the living daylights out of a pregnant person is bad form,» he sniped, turning away from the flowers to level Bradley with a half-hearted glare. 

Brown eyes widened in alarm. «I’m sorry,» the alpha said, like he really did mean it. «I just wanted to see how you were.»

«Great,» Pete lied. 

Bradley furrowed his brows. «You’ve been weird all day.»

Now you care? he wanted to say, but bit it back for the sake of his sanity. Pete tilted his head and dragged a rough hand through his hair. «I’m tired from yesterday.» Not a lie, just non-specific. «We’re lucky it didn’t end any worse.»

When the expected retort never came, he glanced over at Bradley again, only to find the alpha’s eyes shining copper and laser-focused on his neck.

Banging his head on the wall until he passed out was incredibly tempting all of a sudden.

«Don’t give me that. I do not need your alpha paternalism right now.» Pete pressed his hand over the marred skin. «Yes, I got laid. It happens. Tell your instincts to get a grip.»

«Instincts,» Bradley muttered, but after a firm blink his eyes returned to normal. Pete expected him to leave, but he marched into the room instead and turned the card on the flowers. «What kind of courtship is this?»

Pete could have pushed him away, or taken a step back for that matter, but he didn’t. Their proximity allowed him a lungful of Bradley’s scent and it was a balm to every ache in his body. «It’s not like that.» That just got him a dubious look. He sighed. «It’s not supposed to be, anyway.»

«They clearly didn’t get the hint,» Bradley said drily. 

A stab of the dirty loneliness from that morning made Pete falter. It wasn’t Seresin’s fault, not really, but he would trade almost anything to go back and stop last night from happening. It was a stupid mistake that he knew better than to make. «I guess not.»

«Hey.» Bradley took hold of his elbow, all traces of annoyance gone from his voice. «You’re okay, right? No one did anything… unwanted?»

«Jesus,» Pete squawked. «No, God no. It’s nothing like that.»

The alpha’s jaw unclenched, but he didn’t appear very happy. After a caustic glare at the flowers, he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. «I can tell them to fuck off.»

Pete was shaking his head before the sentence was even finished. «Absolutely not.» 

Bradley leaned in like he was going to retort, but instead he went completely still. Pete jerked back in confusion, feeling the shifting energy like a physical weight in the air. The alpha’s eyes went wide, then cold.

«Hangman.» It was not a question.

«I–» Pete took a step back while choking on the need to defend himself, to explain, to make this into something that didn’t feel like a betrayal. Why would it be? They weren’t seeing each other,  Bradley had made that quite clear. «He showed up at my place. It just happened.»

«Why was he coming to your home?»

«He felt bad about getting me hurt.»

Bradley scoffed, the veins at his temples bulging as he threw a glare up at the ceiling. «He didn’t feel bad for shit. You should’ve kicked him out and–»

«You think I don’t know that?» Pete’s raised voice finally startled the alpha into shutting up. Shame burned in the omega’s face, pervasive even into his sinuses and eyes. «Just say no. That’s really easy for people like you, isn’t it?»  

The edges of his vision were blurring, dusk changed to midnight, and flashing blue lights sent a kick-drum headache pounding in his head. Metal dug into his already sore wrists while he sat, straight-backed, in the coffee-scented interior of a car.

«Mav,» Ice said, impossibly soft despite the urgency. The omega didn’t answer. «Mav?»

Mav. Pete. Mitchell.

«Maverick.» Bradley’s voice cleaved through the fog alongside a sharp outpouring of his scent. Pete started, nearly choking on his own tongue, and blinked just in time to see the alpha’s hands retreat to his sides like he’d thought twice about reaching out. The anger in his scent wasn’t as prominent anymore, instead dulled down by an anxious discontent that left the air buzzing with unasked questions. 

Ask, a part of him begged. Take it out of my hands. 

«You could have called me,» he said, at last. Pete laughed in his face. 

«Oh, come on, Bradley,» he said, his cheeks aching. The unrequited embrace, the silence, the disorienting back and forth – it all flashed in his mind. «I understand that you two have a rivalry going on, but don’t drag me into it.»

Fire re-lit in Bradley’s eyes. He stepped in closer, putting them chest to chest. «This has fuck all to do with that.» 

Pete craned his neck to maintain eye contact. «Oh, really? Because it sure looks that way to me. Are you mad he scored before you did?»

The alpha bristled. «Scored?» He spat the word out like it was an insult. «Do you seriously think that little of yourself?»

The urge to bend over in hysterical laughter nearly bowled him over. «No! I don’t know!» Pete threw his hands up, his gums stinging from his elongated canines still bared in a wild grin. «I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what any of you want from me.»

Bradley loomed overhead like he’d grown a foot taller in the span of a single second. «Maybe I want you to be smart, for once. You’re running around like nothing’s wrong when we both know–»

«Know what?» Pete cut in furiously. 

«That I can ground you with a single fucking word, and that I’d be right to do it,» Bradley snarled, his eyes burning copper. 

Nothing but a sharp exhale left Pete’s mouth. He just stood there, staring, while unparalleled fear snared tighter and tighter around his throat. His body wouldn’t cooperate with him to breathe again, not while boots pinned his wings to the ground. Why did it always end up like this? Why did everything always crash, why was he always wrong about-

Vertigo slammed into him like a truck on the freeway. He staggered backwards and caught himself on the desk, just barely managing to sit down on top of it. The room spun like he was in an uncontrollable free fall toward the hard, unforgiving ground. 

«Mav! What’s happening?» Bradley was saying, finally coming into focus again.

«Dizzy,» he gasped out, trying to grasp the desk for stability and getting nowhere.

Bradley’s warm, caramel scent fanned over him just before he was enveloped in an embrace. The alpha held his head steady, shielding Pete’s eyes from the light by tucking his face against his chest. «Is that better?» he asked, clearly uncertain. 

It took a few seconds, but the dizziness eventually started to ebb away. Pete allowed himself a pathetic moment to nuzzle against Bradley’s uniform, holding tight around his waist while he fought down the urge to cry. «I’m too old to be pregnant,» he mumbled in lieu of a reply.

«Should we find your doctor?» It was like all the anger from their fight had grown wings of its own and flown away, though Pete had lived long enough to know that it’d be back eventually. 

He gave a non-committal shrug. Everything ached like skin rubbed raw, his brain was too swollen for his skull. «I’ll try to go later.»

Maybe if their nerves weren’t so shot, Bradley would’ve protested. Instead, he said nothing, just held on a little tighter before sheepishly letting Pete go. When no one was spontaneously struck down by heart failure, he took a step back, looking for all the world like a puppy who got caught shredding the sofa. «I, uhm… I have some stuff I need to do, I’ll…»

«Of course,» Pete rushed to say. «Don’t let me keep you. I also have– things. To do.» 

«Yeah.» Bradley turned to leave, hesitated like he had something else he wanted to say, before shutting his mouth and finally exiting the room. 

But he only made it a step out of the door. Warlock was there, and his expression was one Pete had seen before, some 30 years ago.

All noise faded from the room until he swore he could hear dust particles hitting the wardwood. A cold, numbing grip clenched around Pete’s throat as Warlock’s expression failed to smooth out. 

His phone had been conspicuously silent all day. He hadn’t realized until now, too preoccupied with his own drama, that something vital was missing. Someone.

He knew. Before a single word was ever spoken, he just knew. 

Ice was gone.

***

The non-reaction Maverick displayed was going to haunt Bradley for a long, long time. 

He just stood there. Gave a little nod of his head and shifted his gaze down to the floor. Maybe his jaw flexed a little, if Bradley wanted to be optimistic in his reading. 

It was beyond wrong. Maverick’s natural state was one of constant motion and energy, like the sun. The man in front of him was a cold void where a person had once been. Bradley took a step back into the room, but Warlock placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The older alpha locked eyes with him and gave a barely there shake of his head. 

Bradley got a horrible sense of deja-vu that he couldn’t articulate.

He was sent away like a little boy. Maverick may not want him as a mated partner, but Bradley still considered him as his omega, at least in the broader pack sense. He should be there for him, but this was clearly something he didn’t understand. According to Warlock, anyway.

Bradley found that insulting. He knew grief like the back of his hand; it had been his most consistent co-parent.

Pacing the hallways didn’t help. Neither did relentlessly working his body at the gym. Fuck, he didn’t even have the will to get in Hangman’s face when he swaggered into the locker room.

The passivity must’ve clued the other alpha in that something was amiss. «What’s up with you?» he asked, with suspicion. 

Bradley didn’t answer at first. It had been 3 hours since he last saw Maverick. The news wasn't public yet, but it would be soon. «Iceman passed away,» he said, quietly. The call-sign almost felt wrong of him to use, like he hadn’t earned it. 

Even Hangman didn’t have anything sarcastic to say about that. He joined Bradley in having an uncharacteristic bout of silence. «Damn,» he muttered, at length.

Bradley hung his head low between his shoulders. «Yeah.»

***

The funeral was beautiful. 

Bradley had been too young to really remember his dad’s passing, but there was something about Maverick’s stony demeanor that made him feel 3 years old again. It reminded him of his mom’s skirt, of her muted scent and the way she sniffled. How, even as he grew older, she always kept a brave face whenever he asked about his father.

Their fight seemed stupid now. Bradley ached to walk it all back, to explain that it was never Maverick he was angry with, that he was an idiot beyond measure for having ever said those things. What if the worst happened, and that turned out to be the last conversation they ever had?

The thought terrified him, but every time he tried to get Maverick for a moment alone, or even just catch his attention, it was unsuccessful. Either someone else was already there, or the omega’s eyes were glazed over with a dissociative fog. 

Iceman hadn’t been Maverick’s alpha at the time of his passing, but a grieving omega was not someone you just blundered up to. Even if it was a platonic bond, it was still a huge scar on the soul to face a loss of this scale. It would take time to recover. Time they didn’t have, which Mav was undoubtedly aware of. 

Hangman didn’t have the same baggage holding him back. Bradley watched with horrible, nauseating jealousy every time the other alpha offered gentle touches and comforting words. Always when no one else was looking, spread throughout the days like it was their little secret. Maverick never did much in the way of responding, but he didn’t discourage it either. He just… stood there.

It wasn’t enough to rouse suspicion among the others, but Bradley was punished with the knowledge that Hangman had held Maverick’s waist, kissed his lips, marked his skin, shared his nest… 

The pencil in his grip snapped in half. Bob, who happened to be walking by, flinched.

He always told himself to look away, but he could never unsee the aftermath of what happened between them. Mav’s affect was off that entire day, but what stood out as most jarring was when he’d shut down in the middle of their argument. His scent took a turn that Bradley had never experienced before, and he knew that scent well. His teenage years were dedicated to obsessively categorizing every part of it. 

And what he’d said, right before. Bradley bit down on his inner cheek, dread racing through him. Could it be that…? No, surely not. Maverick was okay, he always was. He was right there, and Bradley had no right to speculate about something like that. 

He got up to leave the second they were dismissed, but before he could rush out the door, he was stalled by a brush of that windswept scent. Ever since the fight, he grappled with a persistent urge to scrutinize Maverick for any… he didn’t know, signs? Anything at all to disprove the fear needling at him. 

When he’d almost mustered the courage to say something humiliating like how are you, Hangman broke his line of sight. The other alpha walked to the front, and with a perfectly appropriate smile, handed off a small package. Mav blinked at it, then at Hangman, before accepting it with an absent nod. 

Bradley was going to throw Hangman through a window if he didn’t leave the room right that second. No, leave the building. The fucking state. He turned like the ground was on fire, shoving past the others and ignoring the confused calls of his name.

If he thought 15 years and a mountain of hurt was enough to dim that frantic desire to hoard Maverick all to himself, he was sorely mistaken.

And as the days passed without much change, his attempts to make contact dissipated. He didn’t want to intrude, he didn’t want to upset the extremely delicate peace Maverick had encased himself in to keep teaching. He heard some of the others talk about how the omega was handling everything well, and though he agreed, he also saw something they didn’t.

One of the few things he clearly remembered – besides his mother -– from when his father died, was that time Mav came over. Bradley had tucked himself against the couch cushions, almost sinking between them in the search for some kind of embrace, when Maverick entered the room. He’d faced Carole Bradshaw with silent tears rolling down his face and without a word to say. When she touched him, he nearly crumbled.

Bradley remembered thinking that he looked lonely. Maybe even as lonely as he was, tucked into the couch cushions. 

The omega wore that same face now, and Bradley could not reach him. Couldn’t do anything without making it all worse, clearly.

He’d lost him, hadn’t he?

Chapter Text

«All I’m saying is,» Cyclone continued, still with that infuriating, placating tone, like Pete was a particularly stupid third grader. «You are in a fragile state of mind right now. It’s safer for everyone, especially you, if you sit this one out.»

«You can’t fly this mission without me. You know that,» Pete said, remaining steady only from sheer spite. 

The alpha looked at him from over the rim of his reading glasses, before returning to the papers in his hands. «You have a history of irrational behavior. The incident after–»

He knew what was coming before it was said aloud. «That was 15 years ago,» Pete cut in, his heart squeezing. «And I was cleared.»

«You put yourself in a situation that was extremely unbecoming of a person in your position,» Cyclone recited, the same old line he’d heard the other 50 times he’d been interrogated over this. Nevermind that multiple doctors – and several more investigators – were on his side, that he’d been cleared four fucking times at brass’ insistence. 

«What happened that night was not my fault.» His voice gave an unforgivable tremor. «I was defending myself. There is nothing irrational–»

«You broke a man’s arm,» Cyclone said with a raised eyebrow. «Three alphas had to pull you off.»

A despairing rage howled, screamed, writhed inside Pete’s head. How was that all they took from the situation? What about the evidence that supported him? Did none of it matter? How was he still here, 15 years later, trying to convince people he wasn’t a lunatic for not wanting to be–

«I was cleared,» the omega repeated, his voice dull and blank. No, it didn’t matter. Nothing would ever change, he should know that by now. «I am fit for duty. My pilots need me.»

«The admiral was an honorable man.» Cyclone laced his fingers together like he was comfortable he’d won. «His loss affects all of us, but as an omega under his care…» He left the rest of his sentence unsaid. They both knew what he was getting at.

Pete stood cold and numb in the middle of the floor, listening to a swarm of flies buzzing inside his skull.  

***

Irrational. Irrational! Pete sent an empty trash can flying across the office with a furious kick. The tingling numbness had given way to despair, which had plummeted down into a furious abyss at the sight of his pilots passing him in the hallway, a series of confused looks on their faces. 

Phoenix stared after him, her mouth open like she wanted to say something, but he didn’t slow down. Not even Bradley’s outstretched hand stopped him. 

Cyclone wanted to extend the timeframe. He wanted them in a dog fight with far superior aircraft, he wanted them to accept the risk of dying. 

It was not happening. These were his pilots and he was bringing them all home, he was the only one with a strategy that actually gave them that chance, and brass wanted to sideline him because he was irrational. Their code for we don’t like omegas all that much was becoming deplorably see-through.

As an omega under his care. Ha! Him and Ice had established very early on that the only time Pete was underneath him was when he damn well wanted to be. He stalked through the hallways like a mountain lion on the prowl. No one, not even the ones who knew he was not supposed to go where he was going, stopped him. 

«Hondo,» he said, barging into the room with hellfire on his heels. The man spun around in his chair while several of the other people in the room jumped. «Get me in the fucking air.»

Something flashed in the beta’s dark eyes. Recognition, maybe. Understanding. «You got it.»

***

It was a bad idea, but that had never stopped him before. Anger was a great motivator when all else failed. 

You’ll listen to me now, asshole, he thought as he cut through the air, entering into the practice terrain with probably four dozen people and a few alarms screaming curses in his wake. Who’s fragile? Fuck you.

After deciding on an even slimmer time-limit than the one he’d been teaching, he spoke into his mic. «Maverick to range control. Entering point alpha, confirm green range.»

There wasn’t an event scheduled for him, of course. That was irrelevant. «Oh, I’m sure,» was all he said, flipping down his visor. «But I’m not asking. Set the timer to 2:15.»

And with that, he signed off. 

He hadn’t come this far by being doe-eyed and subservient. They would acknowledge him, and the viability of this strategy, whether they wanted to or not. 

Pete disappeared into the motions of flying. The force on his body pushed all capacity for worry out of his head as he climbed, his bombs away and hitting exactly where he wanted them to. There was a moment, just before he evened out with the horizon, where every plaguing thought in his mind was squeezed out.

Are you up here, Goose? he wondered, his eyes fogged over and his peripheral vision dark.

Probably not, his own thoughts whispered back when his descent started and he could breathe again. Not anymore.

Making it back to the ground was a race with an entirely different clock. The mini-me in his stomach was evidently not impressed with the beating he just took, and he was about to hurl his fucking guts out. 

He could not be seen in such a frail state, he had to make it quick. There would be people meeting him to oversee the landing. Post-flight. «I fucking hate it here,» he muttered, only to abruptly remember that Hondo could still hear him. «Uh, so to speak.»

There was a dubious pause. «Sure thing, Mav.»

Amazing.

As soon as Pete’s feet were back on solid ground and before the crew had the chance to fully reach him, he stumbled around the plane and retched into the ditch lining the tarmac. Bent in half at the waist with one hand feebly braced on the plane for balance, what meager food he’d been able to stomach that day came back with a vengeance. 

He wanted to sink to his knees and cry, but there wasn’t time. It didn’t matter how awful he felt, how weak his legs were, how badly his hands shook. He had a performance to put on. The lives of his pilots hinged on him doing a good job of it.

So, he kicked loose dirt over his mess, took a deep breath, and straightened up like he’d done so many times before. He hadn’t survived the army as an omega without perfecting this particular dance. Marching back around the plane like nothing was wrong, he faced the music. 

The lecture room was caught in an electric silence. Cyclone looked murderous and impressed all at once, though his pilots were all failing to hide their smiles. Phoenix met his gaze and flashed a not-so-subtle thumbs up, and even Warlock appeared to be on the sunny side of disapproving. 

The only one who wasn’t happy was Bradley. Pete refused to linger, but he felt how the alpha’s stormy eyes were glued on him. They left him naked and exposed in a way he could not afford, because if anyone pointed out how hollow he was in that moment, he would collapse like a house of cards. 

Bradley didn’t look away. Pete swallowed, and tipped his chin up. 

«Well,» he said, hoping he’d wiped his face properly. «Have we reached an understanding?»

Maybe this was why he never got promoted, he reflected, after frying in the solar flare that was Cyclone’s look. 

«My office,» the alpha said, coolly. «Now.»

***

«You stole a multi-million dollar aircraft,» Cyclone said, his hands white knuckled on the armrests of the chair Pete had been commandeered into. «If you were trying to prove your mental stability, you failed.»

The proximity was making him bristle, no matter how hard he tried to keep a lid on it. The omega bared his canines in a grin. «The mission can be flown, they’ve all seen it. Locking me in the stockade won’t give them amnesia.»

Cyclone’s nostrils flared. He looked at Pete like he wished he could set him on fire. Deciding he couldn’t get anymore fucked than he already was, the omega slouched back and let his knees fall wide. «Sir,» he tacked on, his eyes wide and glowing.

«You know what you are, Mitchell?» Cyclone’s face was so stiff it looked painful. «A disruption. You blow up the established order like it’s just a suggestion. Like it isn’t order,» he leaned in closer, abruptly enough that the omega started backwards. «That keeps us alive. And you’re rewarded for it, aren’t you?»

«Oh, yeah. I’m such a bipartisan doll.» His heart was picking up the pace. This wasn’t like a usual lecture, it was way too personal. «Maybe your order needs to change if one omega can fuck it up all by himself.»

«Trust me,» the alpha said with a terse smile. «If it were up to me, a reevaluation would be swift.»

There it was. The old vitriol that never quite seemed to go away, no matter how progressive an alpha might train themselves to be. They were so close they were practically sharing air, close enough that Cyclone was inhaling pregnancy pheromones with every breath he took, with no clue that the golden ticket to solving all problems was right under his nose. Pete shifted his forearm over his stomach and held the alpha's gaze unflinchingly. «And yet I’m still here, which leads me to believe that someone told you no.»

Hit the nail on the head, if the twitch of the alpha’s lips was any indication. He finally pushed away from the chair, stepping out of Pete’s space and taking the oppressive weight of his pine-musk scent along with him. 

He could already tell that it clung to him. The fucker had scent-marked him to hell and back, it would take a minimum three or four showers to get it off. No one would even dream of doing something that brazen to another alpha – or a beta, even – but since little old Maverick was an omega, it was free game for alphas to treat him like a pissing post. 

«You must have a lot to compensate for,» Pete said, sweetly. 

The alpha, who was indeed single, made a poor attempt to seem unbothered. «Iceman isn’t here to pamper you anymore,» he said, which only served to ignite actual rage in Pete’s chest. Before he could set his entire career ablaze by strangling a superior officer, the alpha continued. «But you still have people on your side. I don’t know why, and it does not matter.» He paused, like it physically pained him to speak. «You’re flying the mission. Team leader.»

«Wh–» Pete had this entire speech mapped out in his head, one that ended with a middle finger and a kicked open door, but all of it fell flat on its face. «Seriously?»

The alpha gave him a dry look. «Believe me, I said the same thing.»

Oh, fuck. He’d thought he was in the clear. He’d survived the demonstration and could impart the knowledge, see his puppies off to battle and pray to every fucking God willing to listen that they all came back. He’d have the abortion and then talk to Bradley about– about everything. Life would untangle and he could…

Jesus. 

Why couldn’t it ever be easy? 

***

Bradley waited anxiously for Mav to re-emerge. He suspected they all were, considering no one had left despite Warlock’s dismissal. 

When he did come back, some 30 minutes later, he reeked. Bradley stood frozen while Phoenix hurried over to the omega’s side, her eyes bright and intent. «You’re staying?» she asked, even as her nose twitched. 

«I’m flying,» Mav said, like he didn’t really believe it. «Team leader.»

It wasn’t long before the rest of the pack gathered round, circling their leader until he was safely within their fold again. They peppered him with questions regarding the mission, where they all stood, and how it would look going forward. Mav did his best to answer them, and shared an exhausted look with Bob after the other omega grimaced at the way he smelled. An entire conversation seemed to pass in their split-second of eye contact.

«Shit,» Hangman murmured somewhere next to him, having also stood back from the group. Bradley wanted to punch his lights out just for existing, and very nearly did it too, before catching himself in how moronic he was acting. 

An alpha scent-marking an omega was a delicate social interaction even under the best of circumstances. It used to be something alpha’s did just because they could. Be it to brag, to assert control, or just to remind everyone where the hierarchy stood. With the years, that had received some very necessary pushback. 

His mom, an omega herself, had drilled it into his head from the minute he was old enough to process her words; You do not act a fool just because others do, Bradley. 

It wasn’t like it was all bad, either. Pups did it to their parents, partners did it to each other – even in a broader pack, sharing scent was an affectionate gesture. It showed that you belonged somewhere.

This was not affection. Maverick didn’t just smell like Cyclone, he smelled like property of Cyclone. A talking-to from a superior was one thing, most everyone had gotten chewed out at one point in their career, and Maverick more than most. This, however, was too far. It was archaic, he couldn’t believe it happened so casually. Cyclone wasn’t remotely worried about discovery, either – quite the opposite, he was fucking broadcasting it.

«You’ll explode if you keep going like that,» Hangman said, with a sideways look. Bradley’s eye twitched. 

«This is cool to you?» he bit out, looking away from where Mav was not so subtlety being counter-scented by the pack. Bob, in particular, was pale, and had the older omega’s hand in a vice-grip. 

«I think Maverick can handle himself just fine.» Hangman shifted, a slight frown on his face as he too surveyed the scene.

Bradley held back a growl. «He shouldn’t have to. No one should.»

He’s mine, his brain howled, as unhelpful as it was powerful, stemming from the part of him that wanted to go beat Cyclone senseless before stealing Mav away to a room with a locked door. He clenched his fists, forcing it back down where it belonged. He’s mine, he’s mine.

God, he needed to sleep. But first.

«Captain.» He broke away from Hangman to approach the group. He was accepted into the mix without any resistance, his arms brushing against Phoenix and Payback. Mav looked up at him, his green eyes round and tired. Mincing his words, he said, «I have some stuff to help neutralize the scent, if you want it.»

A small smile twitched on the omega’s lips. «I don’t do too well with those.» The way he said it was a bit cheeky, with no effort to hide the innuendo, and it made some of the others chuckle. «Thank you, though.»

He’d figured as much, considering their last encounter with the soap. Still, a part of him had desperately hoped Mav would accept it. «Okay,» Bradley said, unable to muster up a smile of his own. It wouldn’t be out of place to pull the omega in for a one-armed hug, not while everyone was engaging in an unofficial scenting ritual, but he refrained. It didn’t feel natural, and it probably wasn’t wanted. Not from him. 

He stepped away just as Hangman joined the group. «Let’s get this stench off of you,» he said, and Bradley watched him pull Maverick off his feet into a cartoonish embrace. 

The sounds of their voices faded as he marched down the hallway with his jaw clenched tight and his heart crying out for him to turn around, to do something, say something, get him back. Anything.

Like always, he waited until it was too late, and he did nothing. 

***

As the last few days before the mission came and went – sooner than anyone had anticipated – Pete couldn’t afford to let his focus wander anymore. 

There was no time to grieve, and Ice certainly would have slapped him upside the head for moping around. He did his best to tuck the arterial bleed in his soul away from prying eyes, to where it could hurt no one but him. 

Hendricks was extremely apprehensive about him flying the mission, and was not made more confident by Pete having resigned himself to betting on his sub-zero chances. 

10 G’s were not compatible with pregnant omegas,  but he already knew that. What the little grand theft auto had demonstrated was that he could handle it without passing out or succumbing to vertigo, which meant there was still a chance that this might work. It had to. 

Besides, he didn’t need to make it out of the climb, or coffin corner. All that mattered was that he hit the target and that his pilots got out safe.

«There are severe health risks to pulling a stunt like this in your condition,» the beta said again, though he had to know by now that it fell on deaf ears. «We have no idea what that amount of stress could do to your endocrine system. You’re already operating on a different baseline than normal, and I don’t need to remind you that your symptoms are severe.»

«Will I die if I fly?» Pete asked, simply.

Hendricks’ eyes went stormy. He didn’t respond right away. «I can’t say that for certain.»

«Right.» The omega shoved his hands into his pockets, his point made. «This isn’t about me, I have a responsibility to every pilot on that mission. I know I can do it, and you can’t stop me.» Only one person could, and he had yet to pull that card. 

Hendricks looked down at his desk with his lips pulled into a tight line. «I know,» he said, at length. «That is what worries me.»

He left Hendricks’ office with more nausea suppressants in his pocket and his jaw set tight. The abortion was scheduled for three days after the mission. 12 weeks almost to the day. 

Doing it before was out of the question now that he was flying – it would take him out of commission for an entire week. He only needed to hang in there a little longer and this whole nightmare would be over.

One way or another.

When entering his office to pick up all the paperwork he still hadn’t done, Pete was stopped short by the sight of a little box on his desk. Nearly identical to the half dozen others he’d tossed in the garbage.

It had been a long fucking day. Too long of a day for another alpha to come fuck it up at his leisure. He still smelled faintly of pine-musk, a fact that Cyclone loved to remind him of every time he saw him, which included that very morning.

Something inside the omega snapped. He snatched the box up and marched back out without any of the files he’d come for, stalking down the hallways with the scent of nettles and dry grass in his nose. The few people he passed jumped out of his way and steered wisely clear.

Maybe it had been sweet, in the beginning. The fleeting touches, the little gifts. Or maybe he’d been too fucked in the head to really process what was happening. It didn’t matter. It stopped now, today.

He found Seresin lingering near the gym, tapping on his phone with a concentrated frown on his face. 

«You need to stop,» Pete announced loudly. The alpha jumped about a mile in the air. 

«Mav–»

«Captain Mitchell,» Pete corrected. Before Seresin had time to recover from his doe-eyed shock, he continued, «I made it clear that I did not consent to a courtship.» He tossed the box, watching the alpha scramble to catch it. «The death of my friend was not an invitation.» 

Seresin blinked at him, his confident demeanor thoroughly cracked. «I never meant–»

«I don’t care what you meant,» Pete interrupted. «You won’t change my mind by pestering me. I don’t need you holding my hand, I don’t want your gifts, and when we are on base, you will treat me like your Captain. I have earned that title and everything that comes with it.»

This conversation was the exact thing he’d been hoping to avoid, but he wasn’t obtuse. He knew he shared a hefty part of the blame for having allowed the sex to happen in the first place. «What we did was a mistake.» Pete turned on his heel, not interested in seeing the puppy-dog heartbreak on Seresin’s face. «I apologize for my part in it.»

«It wasn’t a mistake to me,» Seresin spoke up, having finally regained some of his gusto. The omega looked over his shoulder at him, unmoved. «Call it what you want, but I don’t agree with you.»

«You need to leave it alone and move on,» he said in final warning. 

The alpha worked his jaw, but eventually gave a curt nod. «Captain,» he said, straightening his posture.

And with that, Pete left. Strode back through the base with his heart pounding in his chest. Anger simmered under his skin with no real outlet, anger that wasn’t just about stupid little courting gifts and bad flowers. He had probably laid into the man way too hard, but he wasn’t in a mood to care. This, all of it, needed to end. 

He rounded a corner and, too wrapped up in his own storming thoughts, ran face first into something hard and human. He yelped, his arms shooting out to keep the other person from falling, only to be grabbed around the elbows in turn. 

Warm caramel washed over him. The kind with just a touch of sea salt and a note of whiskey. 

No. No, no. Not now.

«Are you okay?» Bradley asked, sounding a little winded. He seemed like he was on his way to work out, a duffel slung over his shoulder.

Pete looked up into dark eyes that were carefully, inauthentically neutral. He forced himself to smile. «Yeah. Sorry.»

The alpha shook his head. «No need.» 

He moved to keep going, but his arms were still held in place. Pete shot another glance up and fought the urge to squirm from the tension humming in the air. «You can let go now.»

«Oh.» Bradley’s ears went red as he quickly snatched his hands back. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the way. «Nice flying today.» 

«Thank you.» Pete’s elbows still burned from what he could only imagine were two perfect handprints. «I’ll– see you.»

«Yeah. Uh, Captain!» Bradley called after him, making the omega throw a look back. «Take care, alright?»

«You too,» he said with a tight-lipped smile. They both knew what the other meant. Bradley was anxious to see the omega grounded, and Pete would move heaven and earth to ensure Bradley never took to the skies in the first place. Hell, he’d tried. Look where that got him.

Neither man would tuck his wings away just because someone else would like to save them. It was fly or die for them both, and it was really fucking inconvenient. Pete wanted Bradley safe, but grounding him now meant losing him forever. He knew that, he did, but that didn’t change how terrified he was.

And I’d be right to. Bradley’s heated words still echoed in his head. He hadn’t said the word hypocrite out loud, but it was yowling into the quiet. 

Pete pressed his hand over his aching stomach and tried to steady his breathing. He had to let Bradley fly. That was beyond his control, no matter how much he resented it. 

The only thing left for him to influence was his own role in getting Bradley home. 

***

«Rooster,» he said, the name cutting him up from the inside out. Bradley’s head shot up, something inexplicable passing in his expression. The omega had to look away. It was that, or lose his cool completely.

I’ll fight for him, he promised Goose and Carole. If they were still listening to him after he sent their baby to the slaughter. 

Pete made a quiet vow as he stood there, his surroundings rendered blurry by the static buzzing in his ears. Looking from one pilot to the next, he had never felt more certain. They all had too much left to do in the world. If someone had to go down, it would not be them.

A prickle on the side of his face had him turning, only to find Bradlet already watching him. There was suspicion tucked into the furrow of his brows, but before either of them could make a move, Cyclone stepped between them and broke the line of sight. 

«How are you feeling, Captain?» he asked, and for once, he sounded almost cordial.

Terrified out of my fucking mind, he thought, with a confident grin on his face. «Like we’ve got this.»

Chapter Text

One minute he was staring down the barrel of machine guns, and the next, he watched in paralyzing horror as Bradley’s silhouette descended toward the ground. From this distance, there was no way to tell whether he was moving.  

With only a plume of smoke to guide him, Pete ran like his life and soul were on the line. And they were. Oh, God, they were.

His heavy suit, the deep snow, the frigid temperatures – none of it mattered. He flew through the trees, following the faint trail of caramel-whiskey like it was a rope around his neck dragging him on. Adrenaline swelled inside him, sizzled in his brain, turned all his thoughts into a foaming mass that leaked out of his ears with each step he took. 

There was no time to linger on how warm he was getting. He paid no mind to the buzzing beneath his skin. All he needed was to set eyes on Bradley, alive. He had to be alive. 

How long he kept going before he spotted movement between the trees, he had no idea. The second he saw that familiar figure at the end of the scent trail, shoving the parachute back into his bag, the last shreds of his sanity evaporated. 

«Bradley!» he shouted. The alpha straightened up like he’d been struck by lightning. There was no scent of blood anywhere on him, he looked alert and mobile, he was– he looked unharmed. Fuck, holy fucking shit. 

Pete had never been more infernally furious in his entire life. «Are you okay?»

«Yeah, I’m–» He cut off with a grunt when Pete came crashing into him, throwing him clear off his feet and into the snow. «What the fuck!?»

The omega’s shoulders were heaving as he stood there, hot tears poaching his eyes. When Bradley started to get up, he shoved him down again. «Maverick–»

«What the hell is wrong with you?» he shouted. «What are you doing here?»

«What am I– you took a missile for me! What was I supposed to–» Bradley halted in the middle of his rant to take a cautious sniff of the air. Pete blinked at him, but the alpha didn’t explain, just got to his feet. «Are you hurt? You don’t look so good.»

«I ran here.» Pete’s voice came out too breathy to be explained away by just exertion. Holding on to his train of thought was becoming more difficult by the second. «It doesn’t matter. I have to get you home.»

He set off in the direction of the enemy airstrip. It was south of their current position, toward the cliffs he’d seen during the crash. Pop, pop, pop, his pulse drummed with each step.

«Just wait a second,» Bradley insisted, grabbing the omega’s arm. 

He yanked himself free with an abrupt burst of strength. «We don’t have time for this. I’m fine.»

«How do you know that?» the alpha snapped. «Huh? Because you don’t smell like someone who’s fine!»

Brittle, fraying strings were keeping Pete’s sanity together, and they were all snapping one after the other. His stomach was in a constant state of too tight, his clothes scraped against his swollen chest like sandpaper, Bradley was stuck on this fucking mountain with no help in sight, his closest friend passed away not even two weeks ago, and Pete still couldn’t get the scent of musky pinesap out of his hair. 

He buried his face in his hands, drew a breath, and screamed. Tears soaked his gloves, made his face sticky and cold. «Nothing,» he said, to a stunned Bradley, «Is wrong.»

«But you’re–»

Thunderclouds and lightning flared in his eyes. «I’m what? An omega? A failure? Oh, I know.» He grinned wide and painful. «Crazy.»

The warmth beneath his skin rolled and cascaded, taking his breath away with each pass. Beads of sweat left fabric clinging to his skin, while his limbs turned heavy as lead. Doctor Hendrick’s voice seemed to echo somewhere, too faint to make out.

Something about risks.

***

Guilt hit Bradley like a shot to the heart. Nothing could be further from the truth. He grabbed the omega by his flight suit and pulled him close. In part to emphasize his words, but also to get a proper read on his scent. «You aren’t crazy,» he said, but he could tell it didn’t sink in. 

It was clear why. The scent pouring out of Maverick was barely recognizable as his own. All the lighter qualities of spring and seaspray it usually carried were bogged down by a syrupy vanilla. It slid into Bradley’s lungs while his eyes tunnel-visioned on the gleaming skin of the omega’s neck, at the slightly firmer spot just beneath his jaw.

Maverick’s groan broke the trance. Pain was written all over his face as he crumpled forward, coupled with a spike in his feverish warmth that had Bradley’s hackles rising. How was this happening? Pregnant omegas weren’t supposed to have heats, everyone said it was impossible. 

Even beyond that, Bradley had accompanied a few people during their heats, and they weren’t like this. Heats took at least a couple of days to present. They built up slowly, noticeably, and then plateaued. 

Nothing had indicated this. Not in the air, not that morning, and not in the days before either. It had to have hit in the last 30 minutes and Maverick was already on the verge of complete incoherence, which only came when something was wrong. «This isn’t normal,» he said, urgently.

Mav shot him an electric glare, his scent taking on a hint of ozone. It resembled a much stronger version of what Bradley had smelled when he mentioned the scent-neutralizing soap. «What do you know about what’s normal, alpha?»

The word was ugly, said in a way that was deliberately degrading to the omega speaking it. Bradley’s fists tightened and, with his own brain starting to go hay-wire from the proximity to Mav’s flushed scent, he lost his cool. «I know that pregnant people don’t go into heat!»

Maverick’s expression twisted with anger. Another violent shove broke him out of his restraints. «I’m not keeping it!»

«That doesn’t change anything right now!» Bradley sent a prayer to God for patience. «Do you have to be so hard headed?»

«I’m hard headed? Me?» Maverick gestured wildly between them. «Sorry, I forgot your skull is made of fucking memory foam, that’s why we get along so well.»

The urge to rip his hair out had never been more overpowering. He was stranded-presumed-dead on a snowy mountain, deep in enemy territory, with his pregnant omega captain during some kind of impossible medical episode.

Bradley fought to compose himself. Mav’s scent burned against his sinuses like he’d sniffed a line of something strong. «Let’s just calm down.»

He knew he’d fucked up the second Maverick’s expression went cold.

Before he’d even uttered the word sorry, the the short fucker strode off in a random direction again. Bradley went after him, reaching out to stop him, but Maverick anticipated it. With a look over his shoulder, he took off like a bat out of hell.

A growl tore up his throat, ignited in part by anger but mostly, the flames were fanned by wild panic. They weren’t safe, someone could find them at any moment, they didn’t know the terrain, and Bradley didn’t understand what was happening to Mav’s body. The spiralling emotions had the adrenaline pumping through him in seconds, lending him a speed he didn’t realize he possessed.

It was barely enough. Mav was fast, and his stamina was apparently endless. Bradley had to resort to dirty tactics to get closer, taking a page from the omega’s own playbook by throwing packed snow at his head. It was enough to get him to veer off course, and it was just barely enough that the edge of his sleeve came within reach.

They both yelled in anger as they went crashing into the snow. The rolling momentum saw Mav’s smaller body flung into the air, but before he could hit the ground again, Bradley grabbed him closer and tucked his head against his chest. 

Finally, they ended up in a heap on the ground, with Maverick pinned to Bradley’s front like a baby otter. The omega grunted, wriggling around in his restraints, but he got nowhere. «Stay fucking still,» Bradley growled, but it only caused Mav’s scent to spike. 

His teeth ground together with how hard he clenched his jaw. Spit was pooling in his mouth and Maverick, too upset to notice, was grinding his thigh directly against Bradley’s crotch.

«Mav,» he said again. It went nowhere. A sharp whine was cutting into his ears as the omega made another violent attempt to free himself, the kind of sound that could travel for miles under the right circumstances. Fear spiked in Bradley’s chest and without thinking it through, he clamped his fingers around the back of Maverick’s neck.

The results were immediate. With a wheeze, the omega went slack like a ragdoll. «I’m sorry,» Bradley panted, even though he knew no apology would ever cut it. This was an unforgivable overstep and it being his only option wasn’t enough to make it right. «I’m so sorry.»

The omega’s pulse was racing beneath Bradley’s fingertips. Each breath he took to try and steady his own nerves was stolen by the scent of seaspray, now barely recognizable under the dripping, sticky onslaught of vanilla.

«I’m gonna let go,» Bradley said. Mav couldn’t respond, but he deluded himself into thinking he got a nod in the affirmative. Slowly, he eased the pressure. 

«What– were you fucking thinking?» Maverick ground out, fighting to get his arms braced on Bradley’s chest. 

«I wasn’t!» And that only made it worse. There wasn’t a punishment severe enough for the violation he had just committed. 

Maverick swayed, yet still managed to stab a finger at Bradley’s face. «You are unbelievable. Why did you have to– I can’t have you here, you’re supposed to be on the carrier by now!»

«What– huh?» Bradley swatted the finger away in a fit of bewildered indignation. «Seriously? I am exactly where I want to be!» 

«No!» Mav looked nothing short of wild, with tears rolling down his flushed face. «This was never about me making it back.»

Rage lit a flame in Bradley’s chest and he surged forward, flipping them so roughly Maverick’s breath was knocked out of him. «What the fuck is that supposed to mean?» he demanded, his gums aching from his elongating canines. The need to hold, to possess, was writhing beneath his skin like it had come alive.

A flicker of regret flashed in Maverick’s expression, but he regrouped even quicker. His diversion was low and dirty; jamming his knee up between the alpha’s legs to press against his half-hard cock. «What are you waiting for? Finish what you started.» Maverick’s eyes were blown wide and glowing. «Right where you want me, huh? Grab me around the neck again and shut me up–»

«Stop.» His voice dropped into a commanding pitch that had the omega faltering for a second, but it was never gonna last long. 

«You don’t need to like me to use me.» Bitterness was intensified by an old, gushing wound that Bradley had only caught glimpses of before. «You wouldn’t be the first. I’m ran through and mean, I never listen, and I’m carrying some other alpha’s pup. They fucked me good and raw, every single one of them, and I loved it. I even begged Hangman to mmnnh–»

Control snapped like violin strings as Bradley caught Mav’s jaw in a bruising grip and closed the distance between them. Their lips joined in a desperate mess, mouths open and tongues tangling before they’d so much as caught their breaths. Maverick moaned into his mouth, running feverishly hot as the heat cascaded through him.

It was dizzying. It was so much yet not enough. «I don’t care about being your first,» he said, deceptively soft in the scant inch between their faces. «But I need to be your last.»

Maverick’s eyes widened, but he didn’t have the time to start running his mouth again before it was claimed. Their clothes snagged against each other as they pressed closer, their breaths catching with each roll of their hips. Mav’s fingers were digging into Bradley’s shoulder blades with notably pointed nails, sending the alpha’s already crumbling self control into the ether.

Bradley nosed along Mav’s cheek and up to his forehead. He was warm, concerningly so, and it was getting worse by the minute. «You're burning up,» he said, pushing away. Rationality caught his eye like a lighthouse in a storm. «Mav. You need medical-»

A desperate keen preceded a demanding kiss and nails raking down his back, catching hard in the fibres of his flightsuit. «Just fuck me,» Mav pleaded, squirming in the snow. «Mm, please, it´ll make me feel better. I know it will.»

«You aren't–» Bradley started, his voice cracking around a moan when the omega squeezed his cock through his suit. «You don't know what you're saying.» Maverick had made his actual feelings on the matter abundantly clear. He pushed himself up and looked frantically around for any way out of this, but before he could get his bearings beyond the white, empty forest around them, trembling hands grabbed him by the cheeks and urged him back. 

Low whines rose up the omega`s throat, leading the focus up to his flushed face and his round, wet eyes. «Please don’t go,» the omega begged him. «I need you.»

That familiar splinter tore into his heart until his face screwed up into a pathetic little grimace. «I meant what I said. I can't have you now and then let you go.» His voice shook terribly. «Don’t make me.»

«You won't have to.» The tips of Maverick’s sharp canines glinted in the snowy light. His pupils were blown, leaving nearly his entire iris black save for the ring of electric green around the outside. 

It was Bradley`s turn to swallow down a whimper, one that made the omega flinch. «You said you didn`t want me.» It was a wretched sentence, burning like vodka in the back of his throat. 

Maverick was at a loss for words. Bradley half expected to be shoved away, or for the begging to which he knew he'd inevitably submit to start up again. 

He grunted when Maverick hooked his legs around his waist and yanked him down into an embrace so fierce their bones creaked from the pressure. «No, no. That wasn't- I didn't mean you. I want you.» His words were slurred yet painfully earnest. «I want you, I want you, I want you.» He repeated the phrase until it barely resembled English anymore, like he was terrified Bradley hadn't heard him. Shaky, tear stained kisses were pressed everywhere he could reach while fever rolled off of him in heavy waves of vanilla seafoam. 

Bradley squeezed his eyes shut against the overwhelming need burning through him. His cock throbbed with it, his nerves were alight under his skin like live wires, sending his mind into a haze of instinctual ecstasy that was only a breath away from claiming him entirely. 

«What if I hurt you again?» he whispered. 

The omega stroked his cheekbone. «You never have.»

When Maverick kissed him again, sweet and heartsick, he broke. If this glow was a funeral pyre, then he would just have to burn.

«I need–» Mav said, his bottom lip slipping free from between Bradley's teeth. «Clothes. Off.»

He was sweltering. Whatever was happening to him wasn´t stopping, and the last flickers of rationality in the alpha´s brain knew that this was critical. As quickly as he could without shredding the flight suit completely, he helped Maverick undress until he only had his white undershirt and briefs left. He moaned when his skin touched the snow.

Bradley's mouth watered at the glistening slick coating the omega's inner thighs. There was so much of it. Mav´s body was in absolute overdrive, and if this followed the same logic as a heat, then the only thing that would slow it down was a knot.

Like he was reading his mind, Mav nodded his head frantically. «Please. God, shit, just fuck me.»

He swallowed around the rock wedged tight in his throat «What if–»

«Bradley,» Maverick all but sobbed, his head falling back against the snow like it was too heavy to hold up anymore. A harsh tremble overtook him in tandem with a hitched breath. «It hurts. It hurts. It– please, make it stop.»

Everything, even Bradley’s heart, came to an absolute standstill. 

Oh, hell. 

Chapter Text

He was about to start hysterically screaming just to get a reaction, but before he could, he was flipped onto his stomach. The heavy warmth of Bradley’s body fanned out over him, pressing him down into his freezing bed. 

«Forgive me,» the alpha whispered, his lips brushing the back of Pete’s neck while a calloused hand slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear. The omega arched into the touch, with snow melting in his clenched fists. Bradley shuddered, running two fingers across slick skin. «I always wanted our first time to be slow. I wanted to take my time with you,» he murmured. 

Pete struggled to blink around the fat teardrops crowding his eyes. «Whaa…?»

Bradley pinched the skin on the back of the omega’s neck between his teeth, and slipped his fingers inside. Pete’s entire body jerked, but he was forbidden from moving any further by the arresting weight pinning him down. 

Methodically, carefully, he was worked open. It kept going until he was crying into the snow and making delerious attempts to fuck himself into some semblance of completion. There was so little resistance, he probably could’ve taken a knot from the start. 

He turned face so he could peer up at the alpha above him. Bradley was watching him like a hawk, his copper eyes blazing. «More,» he whined, brokenly. It was the only word he stood a chance of coherently saying. 

Bradley faltered in his cautious pace, and in doing so, crooked his fingers upwards at just the right angle. Pete cried out, stars exploding across his vision, but he was muffled by a hand to the back of his head shoving him into the snow. «You have to be quiet, or I’ll stop.»

When rocking his hips in an attempt to chase the feeling didn’t work, Pete kicked his legs. A whine started in his throat, but the words I’ll stop wailed inside his skull like a SAM-alarm. The omega forced himself to go pliant in an act that ultimately amounted to throwing a towel over a wasps nest. 

Everything hurt. He was burning from the inside out. Every thought that attempted to cross his mind melted away like wax, left to drip down his body in hot streams. He could conceive of nothing except the need to be filled, to be fucked unconscious and claimed. 

And it had to be Bradley. No one else was good enough. There was only one person on this earth that Pete wanted, and he was going to have him. Anyone else who so much as looked at his man would not survive to speak of it. 

«Easy,» the alpha whispered, nipping at Pete’s ear. The rustle of fabric nearly had him thrashing, but he held it down. «Rememher, not a sound.»

It was an insufficient warning. A loud groan was only stopped by Bradley squeezing his hand over Pete’s mouth as the thick head of his cock pushed against, and eventually inside, his body. The hormonal hurricane crescendoed into a victorious howl, setting his every hyper-sensitive nerve ablaze. Pete’s eyes rolled back as the alpha pressed forward, seating himself in one swift motion. 

The burn was delicious, and the very notion that Bradley was so big that even his slick-leaking hole wasn’t prepared for it had Pete moaning into the alpha’s palm.

«I know, I know. I’m sorry.» Bradley’s voice was shaking. As a matter of fact, all of him appeared to be shaking. 

Another wave of heat rushed through Pete’s body, seizing in muscles in a searing cramp that left him grinding his teeth in agony. He locked his hand around Bradley’s wrist and dug his nails in. Move. You have to move.

The alpha froze, and the last thread holding Pete together snapped. Bradley was going to leave him there. It would be like waking up in the medical ward all over again, only a thousand times worse. The rejection was like a cruel hand in his hair, yanking his head to the side just to showcase the unclaimed skin of his neck.

One hard snap of Bradley’s hips shoved Pete’s entire body forward. A whimper was punched out of him like an aborted sob. He clawed at the snow, trying to pull himself forward, but Bradley pushed down between his shoulderblades, leaning in until his lips were right up against the shell off Pete’s ear.

«Where do you think you’re going?» he asked, his voice low and rumbling. The sharpened points of his nails were teasingingly close to piercing skin. 

«No–» The word morphed into a cry when Bradley’s cock continued to drive into him.

The pressure on his back increased as the alpha crowded closer, getting a hand beneath Pete’s stomach and hoisting his hips up. The pressure, right over the curve that represented everything wrong in his life, was a branding touch. Pete turned boneless in the alpha’s hold, his mind set adrift in the ether somewhere, taking each punishing thrust like a ready-made doll. Breathless little gasps punctuated each jostle of his body, serving as infuriating replacements for how badly he needed to scream.

«Mav.» Bradley’s tone was arresting as he slowed, just enough to kiss Pete’s shoulder. «You’re slipping away.» 

Like a stuttering radio recovering after a well-aimed slap, the omega snapped back to himself. «‘M here,» he forced out through a mess of tears. «I’m right here.»

«Good,» Bradley praised. A shudder of raw need had Pete’s knees sliding apart in the snow while a broken whine climbed up his throat. The alpha dragged his palm up until he reached the omega’s chest, his fingers dipping against tender skin. «Stay with me.»

With a firm hand right over Pete’s racing heart, Bradley pulled them both up. «Fuck,» the omega yelped, shivering violently at the new angle, but he was shushed by a warning bite to his jaw. Now upright on his knees with Bradley behind him, Pete was given no other option but to surrender and take it.

And take it, and take it. Slick was dripping down his trembling legs, pushed out of him with each pump of the alpha’s cock. Bradley’s scent slid into his lungs like a specially designed drug, rendering him a weak, helpless mess that only stayed upright by the strength of the arms holding him. 

Bradley’s voice was a beautiful, whispered melody in his ear. Pete tangled his fingers into the alpha’s hair and pressed wet, clumsy kisses along his neck, targeting the spot where his scent was the thickest. He ran his tongue across it, relishing in the salty taste of sweat and skin. Bradley’s arms clenched in surprise, his cock pulsing deep inside Pete’s body. 

«My darling moon.» He traced Bradley’s skin with his lips, soft as the powdered snow all around them. «You’re so pretty.»

A deep shudder resonated through them both as Bradley muffled a desperate whine into Pete’s shoulder. The omega slumped backwards, his vision spinning from the rushing sensations, and let himself be taken by the flood of it all. 

And that was when he felt it. Something hot and hard caught on his rim. «Fuck,» he gasped, his head snapping up. «Is that–»

Bradley pulled him back again, twisting him so the beating pulse at his neck was directly within reach of his canines. Pete couldn’t talk, paralyzed by the mere implication, but he needed it with a ferocity that tore him to pieces. Everything burned with the heat of a thousand suns and nothing – nothing – would be enough. Not unless he was bitten. Here, now.

But Bradley didn’t go for it. He wanted to, it was written on every inch of his body, but he stopped himself. 

I’m going to die, the omega meant to say, but the only thing that came out was a horrified whimper. The alpha bristled and held him tighter, fucked him harder, desperate to satisfy. The knot was growing rapidly, threatening to tear Pete in two. He ground down against Bradley’s hips and squeezed his eyes shut when it wedged inside, locking them together. 

Bradley embraced him like he was apologizing for ever having touched him, like he was sacred and this was a defilement. «I’m gonna–» the alpha choked out. «Fuck, Maverick.»

He felt it. Hot streams of pre-come were already coating his insides. Pete was building up to the longest fucking orgasm of his life and there was one thing, just one thing missing. «Bite me,» he said, or chanted, he couldn’t keep track. «Ah– Bite me, I need you–»

Pressure started to build on Pete’s neck. His back bowed and his arms spasmed like he wanted to escape, but he couldn’t move an inch. Bradley’s tongue was wet and heavy against Pete’s skin, all the while white-hot pain lanced up the omega’s spine with each shallow thrust of his knot. 

It was too much. Pete couldn’t control the string of delirious noises anymore, his mind stretched so taut between pain and pleasure he was certain he was going to–

A sharp, pinch-like sensation struck him like a bolt of lightning. His eyes blew wide open, and it all came crashing down. Wave after wave of near-intolerable pleasure rolled over him, tossing him in circles and refusing him the right to come up for air. Sparks of electricity erupted through his body, burning beneath his skin and threatening to tear out of him like a swarm of lightning bugs. Pleasure quickly became a distant aside to the avalanche of feeling, of– of belonging. There was so much of it. 

Colors, textures, scents– it blinded him. He couldn’t think – couldn’t exist as a human being – around all this noise, with these blinding highbeams searing through his retinas.

What was…? What…

Bradley’s groan was musical, fluttering against Pete’s mind like a song he’d always known. Instinct had him latching on to that sound among the thousands, digging his claws in until it brought him back to some semblance of reality. Pete gasped raggedly just as the alpha crumpled forward, pressing them both down into the snow again without ever once letting go. 

The world came back to him in scattered bursts,  and the first thing he became aware of was that he was full to the point of aching. A fumbling hand to his stomach revealed a bulge that couldn’t be explained by just the pregnancy anymore. 

The second thing that registered was that he was caged in by 200 pounds of sleepy alpha. Though he yearned for skin to skin contact, he found what respite he could in the body heat seeping through fabric. Quiet whimpers wracked his frame with each shuddering aftershock of pleasure, and Pete thought, blearily, that he wouldn’t mind dying there. 

The woods around them were silent, a vast emptiness of white only broken up by graying tree trunks scattered around without any real pattern. This high up, not many of them survived. The ones that did were gnarly and weathered. 

A drop of crimson hit the snow by Pete’s cheek. He wanted to cover it up, restore the spotless imagery, but his arms were crushed beneath his chest. Another drop followed, like it was mocking him.

«Mav,» Bradley said, sounding drunk. «Are you okay?»

Was he? His recollection of things was already slipping from his grasp, becoming a murky, heat addled mess somewhere in the back of his head. He tried to free his arm, but only succeeded in making them both moan as Bradley’s cock shifted inside him. «Mm– yeah.»

The alpha hesitated. «Are you sure?»

«Yes,» he repeated, a little sharper than intended. He was fine, just exhausted. Everything was sort of fuzzy around the edges, like a rosy haze had crept into his peripheral. Getting a grasp on where it came from was like trying to grab hold of water. All he really achieved was unmooring himself even more. 

Something was different. It was subtle, but it felt like his center of gravity had… moved. Somehow.

The omega sighed, his eyelids threatening to close by their own will. At least he wasn’t in active pain anymore. «Thank you,» he said, softer this time. «I feel better.»

Bradley seemed to deflate a little, nosing at the hair curling behind Pete’s ear. «You’re cooling down.» 

The dull ache all throughout his body was a stark reminder to how bad things had gotten. Fuzzy on the details though he may be, that experience wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry. «It was weird,» he said, for lack of a better word. «Not– not the sex. I mean, the heat itself.»

The alpha giggled breathlessly. «If you had called the sex weird while I’m still knotted inside you, I’d cry.» 

Pete let out a muffled laugh of his own. «How’s that for pillow talk? Thanks, your dick is bizarre.»

«Stop,» Bradley complained, though the mirth in his voice was soft as a down pillow. «Seriously, though. Do you know what caused it?»

The obvious suspect was the thing in his belly. Pete tucked himself a little tighter into Bradley’s arms and shivered in a combination of pleasure and over-sensitivity at the, by now, smaller knot shifting inside him. «I’ve never been pregnant before, so… I guess it’s that. I don’t know.»

«Is it over?»

Taking a moment to really get a feel for his body led him to the same conclusion as his intuition. The seed of discomfort still sat in his core. Chances were it would grow right back up again until an actual intervention was introduced, or it ran its course. «No. If it’s anything like my regular cycle, I have about 3 hours.» Pete bit at his inner cheek, fumbling for a way to ease the anxious tension. «Worst case scenario, it’ll be hell for a while and then blow over.»

The uncertainty rolling off of Bradley was all but tangible, and was only made more potent by a distressed note washing into his scent. «Mav, it wasn’t stopping.»

The omega closed his eyes. He knew that this was severe, but he couldn’t afford to focus on it now. Getting Bradley home trumped everything. 

«I’ll be okay,» he said, so full of confidence that he almost believed it himself. Then, sensing how frail that position was, he diverted. «Man, it’s cold.»

«C’mere.» Bradley gathered him up and rolled them over. Pete settled onto the alpha’s chest, once again wishing they could be face to face. Maybe he’d dare turn around if the knot wasn’t so big, and if a second round was something they could freely indulge in..

«You’re sweet,» Pete murmured. Bradley answered something unintelligible, seeming a little distant all of a sudden. 

That was all it took. 

A crack. A flaw. A sign. The slightest slip had fear pouncing from the edges of the omega’s mind like it had been lying in wait. «Are… uhm, are you alright with this?» 

«Yeah,» Bradley said, but it didn’t sound convincing enough. He had basically been bullied into fucking a crazy person, and now he was stuck playing nurse in enemy territory. None of this was alright, but Pete felt his entire body get wrung inside out and squeezed just at the thought of him leaving. 

«This is all messed up,» he said, his pounding heart stealing the stability from his voice. «I’m not– I’m not good enough. I know that. I fucked it up again and nothing ever–» lasts, he couldn’t say, pinning his eyes wide open to avoid seeing the fading pictures of his dead friends plastered behind his eyelids. «I didn’t mean for this to happen to you. You don’t–»

«Maverick,» Bradley interjected, and by the sound of it, this wasn’t the first time he’d tried. Once he realized he had the omega’s attention, he softened. «Breathe.»

As if a reflex had been triggered, Pete managed a shuddering gulp of air. The alpha rewarded him with another one of his pseudo-purrs. It broke up each time Bradley needed to breathe himself, creating an intermittent pattern where an omega’s purr was one consistent vibration. 

It made him so incredibly homesick for a place that didn’t even exist. Pete’s lip wobbled dangerously, and he sniffled, trying to keep it all down. «It’s so cute how you do that.»

The alpha’s scent bubbled with something flushed and sweet. «Does it help?» 

«A lot.»

«I saw how Bob did it, and I figured…» Bradley trailed off into an uncertain silence. «Uhm. Yeah.»

«I’m sorry,» Pete said again, like it’d magically be enough this time.

«Stop apologizing.»

«But I–»

«You fucked up. Everyone does,» the alpha interrupted. «I forgave you a long time ago.»

«This isn’t…» His entire rambling speech evaporated in the blink of an eye. «You did?»

«Mm-hmm.»

How was Pete meant to react? What was there to say, what word could possibly summarize the hurricane rampaging inside him? He stared up at the gray sky, imagining he was up there going faster than any man had ever gone, rounding the earth's curve to chase the sun. 

«Oh,» he said, hardly more than a whisper. 

Bradley yelped when Pete sat up and, taking a mad leap of fate, lifted himself off his knot. A sharp flare of pain made him bite back a groan, his vision spun and took all the coordination in his body with it, but he managed to turn around just in time to collapse back onto Bradley’s chest. 

It was warm. The black undershirt beneath his hands was damp from sweat and melted snow, making it cling to the familiar contours of the body below him.

Maverick spent his every waking moment on the cusp of absolute panic. In the air, on the ground – it didn’t matter. Defying it was his greatest drive and motivator, but he was forever haunted by the fact that no matter how far he went, he would never, ever be rid of it. 

Only on the precipice of life and death, where every boundary was surpassed and nothing else mattered, did he ever feel calm. 

Until now.

Pete’s slow exhale came out like a pale cloud. His heart was steady, and his mind was quiet.

«Mav?» Bradley prodded nervously. His golden-streaked hair splayed out in the snow, framing his flushed face and big, down-turned eyes. Pete’s fingers curled against the alpha’s chest, feeling a strong heartbeat thudding just beneath. 

He couldn’t take his eyes away. «I just wanted to see you.»

That unsteady feeling was stronger now, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like flying a new plane for the first time, when the controls were all a little foreign but still within his grasp. Acting on a shockingly strong impulse, the omega swooped down for a stolen kiss. 

Little sparks, like the ones he vaguely remembered from earlier, ignited in his cheeks. They harmonized with a stinging pain in his neck, making him startle back.

«Do you feel that?» he asked. Something was nagging at him. «The buzzing.» He lifted his hand to scratch at the itchy spot on his neck.

«Careful,» Bradley warned, catching his wrist just as he made contact with something sticky. The scent of iron made Pete still. 

The pulled his hand free, and skimmed over his scent gland. The raised edges of puncture wounds passed beneath his fingertips.