Chapter Text
APRIL, 2010. NIALL AND HARRY.
“Niall, bro – aw, you’ll never guess who I’ve just seen,” Liam says, dumping a plate heaped with lasagne on the lunch table.
Niall speaks, deadpan, through a mouthful of food. “Zayn.”
“Dude,” Liam says breathlessly, climbing onto the bench, “he was wearing glasses. Glasses. Fuck. He’s so cute.” Liam smiles fondly but when Niall doesn’t respond he snaps, “He’s cute, yeah?”
Niall jumps – because he can’t bloody help it with an Alpha– and then rolls his eyes irritably. “Jesus. Yes. I’ve told he’s a cute a million times.”
Liam smiles sheepishly and runs his fingers through his hair. In a low voice, almost to himself, he says, “Bet he looks fucking adorable on my cock.”
Niall is shoving several chips into his mouth at once. “Yeah but…” He swallows thickly. “Not until he’s had his first heat, alright?”
“Yeah, I know – don’t worry.”
“And also,” Niall says. “It’s been three days. So fucking get a grip. Don’t go all alpha on him – he’s only thirteen. You’ll terrify him.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Liam says.
“Rein it in.”
“Yeah, I hear you alright?” Liam turns to his lunch, shoves his fork into it and begins shovelling it into his mouth.
“Where’s Harry, anyway?” Niall asks.
Liam scoffs. “Not reining it in.”
Niall groans loudly and drops his fork. “Jesus! Alright.” He points at Liam. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He’s back in five minutes and as he pushes Harry into his seat he’s saying, “-can’t finger him in the library, Harry.”
Liam chokes on a forkful of lasagne and Harry sneaks him a grin.
“Harry,” Niall complains.
“Oh come on, Nialler,” Harry says good-naturedly, nudging Niall with his elbow. “He was in detention, little menace – I was just trying to spice it up.”
Liam laughs; Niall doesn’t. Liam and Harry might be his best friends but their arrogance and thoughtlessness frustrates him. Louis’ just been through the biggest change of life and his mind and his body are at odds. He’s thirteen for Christ’s sake! All he really wants is for someone to touch his dick a bit, not sit him on their dick and – fucking – loom over him the rest of the time. It’s going to be more than a little overwhelming because even when Harry’s trying (“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay? Is this alright? Are you sure it’s alright?”) he can be a bit intense.
“What was he supposed to do?” Liam asks Niall and raises his eyebrows. (That’s another thing: Harry and Liam always have each other’s backs, making reasoning with them extremely difficult.) “Take Louis to the nurse?”
Niall shakes his head minutely. He himself went into heat a few months after he turned fifteen – like most omegas. Harry, who had yet to have his first rut, was immune to his scent and had had the clear-headedness to take him to the nurse. She put him in a room, gave him a dildo and locked the door from the outside. Fumbling with that dildo in that anti-septic, doctor’s-white room was more traumatising, Niall always says, than if every Alpha in sixth form had done him.
“Sometimes you loom,” he tries to explain.
“I loom?” Harry asks, sounding faintly offended.
Liam sniggers. “I dunno, bro. You do kinda loom.”
“I loom.” Harry repeats. “I loom. What does thatfucking mean?”
Niall rolls his eyes. “You just loom, man. You loom over him.”
“Yeah, like, kind of like this…” Liam leans toward Harry with a strangely intense, comical look on his face. He holds the pose for about a second; then he and Niall dissolve into laughter.
Harry scowls at his lunch plate and mutters to himself, “He fucking needed me.”
Usually, when Liam and Harry mate an Omega, the Omega is ready for it. They’re generally fifteen or sixteen – they’ve probably already done something – quite often with Liam or Harry. It’s purely physical and they’re so high on hormones it’s basically the equivalent of a drunken one-night-stand. That’s not even exclusive to Harry and Liam – that’s fucking standard. It’s a gross misconception that Omegas don’t prey on Alphas too. I mean, Harry was sixteen when he had his first rut and his mom’s friend fucked him through it and she was, what, thirty-two? But when Louis went into heat Harry couldn’t treat him like all the others (of which there have been about ten or eleven) not when he saw how young and frightened Louis was. Then he was fucking overcome with the urge to protect him. So Louis’ special and if he needs to hold Zayn’s hand when Harry goes down on him that’s fine.
But Niall thinks he’s an idiot, Harry can tell. Defensively he says again, “He still needs me.”
Niall’s smile fades. “Just…” he says wearily, “…let him come to you.”
Harry pulls a face like the idea is untasteful to him and shares a look with Liam. “That’s not how it works,” he says.
Niall stares. He can’t – what’s wrong with these boys! Do they not see? “Let him come to you,” he reiterates.
Harry shakes his head. “But-”
“Let. Him. Come. To. You,” Niall seethes and Harry stabs moodily at his food.
MAY, 2010. ZAYN.
Louis does come to Harry. A lot. Over the next month he’s goes into heat three more times – which, again, it’s not unheard of but it’s certainly unusual. He’s basically sick with it. His fever get so high the school calls his mum (though Harry’s already worked it out of him by the time she arrives). He’s so emotional Zayn’s not actually sure he left his first heat. One time Zayn doesn’t let him copy his English homework and he cries. He so responsive too, even Harry’s gaze makes the smell of him thicken; wriggle uncomfortably in his seat; tear up and tug on the sleeve of Zayn’s jumper. Other alphas sniff at him in the corridor, say stuff to him (sometimes to them) that neither of them gets. Furious, Harry gives Louis his school jumper, tells him to wear it always. Now he smells like Harry and sex.
So Zayn feels like Harry’s taking away his best friend, like a bully who has stolen Zayn’s favourite toy and returned it ruined. At night the moonlight edges their bodies in silver, glittering like stars where Harry glides into Louis’ slick; presses him down as Louis comes all over himself; hushes him as Louis cries into the pillow, then into Harry’s chest.
In the dark Liam nuzzles Zayn’s cheek and tugs the covers over their heads and Zayn hates Harry for about two years.
A few days later, as Louis comes down from his fourth heat in a month, Harry goes into rut.
Louis – literally – can’t walk the next day and Niall screams at Harry in the common room. (But it’s too late. Whatever Niall was trying to delay has already happened. Louis won’t need Zayn to hold his hand anymore; won’t plead for Zayn the moment he comes.)
Harry came downstairs ten minutes ago, carrying Louis in his arms like you would hold a sleepy child. Louis’ arms were slumped over Harry's shoulders and he looked dazed but happy, if a little exhausted. Now Harry cups a hand over Louis’ ear and pulls the other against his chest. Zayn tries to catch Louis’ eye but they’re closed and Zayn thinks he might be sleeping.
“AND YOU!” Niall yells, rounding on Liam. “I can smell your rut from a day away. You shouldn’t even be near Zayn.”
Zayn’s sitting in Liam’s lap at this point and the arm around his waist tightens.
“Liam,” Niall says warningly.
Liam pulls Zayn even closer.
“Liam!”
There’s a tense moment before Liam uncoils his arms and Zayn climbs reluctantly from his lap.
Niall takes a deep breath and says, more gently, “you should go home, Liam. Home, home I mean.”
Liam nods. He doesn’t even hug Zayn goodbye.
When he’s gone, and Zayn’s sank back into the sofa, he asks quietly, “Is he gonna have his rut alone?”
Both Harry and Niall are fussing over Louis – because Niall wants to make he’s okay and Harry’s trying to prove that Louis is okay because Harry’s actually been treating him right.
So it’s a moment before Harry hears him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, he is.”
Zayn furrows his brow. “Is that… Isn’t that… Is he gonna be alright?”
Harry doesn’t look at him. “Yeah, sure.” He clears his throat. “I mean, of course.”
Zayn looks down at his lap and fiddles with the hem of his jumper. Liam’s so gentle and careful with him. He’s been sweet and reassuring and worshipful… but right now Zayn feels guilty and that feelings never goes away.
That evening, when they’re watching TV, Harry’s phone rings. He picks it up and yells, “Payno! How’s it going, bro?” Carefully, he dislodges Louis from his lap, gets up and leaves the common room.
Suspiciously, Zayn watches him go.
Liam rolls gingerly onto his back, pressing his phone to his ear. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes but never fall. “Haz, man,” he pants. “It’s so bad.”
Harry’s hesitant voice sounds over the phone. “Why don’t you give Soph or, like... Danielle a call. Hell, Niall would fucking help you out!”
But Liam shakes his head desperately, gritting his teeth. “I’m gonna wait, yeah? For Zayn.” He rubs his face into the pillow, rolls back onto his stomach and pushes his hips into the mattress.
“Jesus, man… I don’t know. It could be years.”
Liam’s only response is a restrained whimper. Normally, the thought of mating Zayn before his first heat repulses him in how cruel it would be. Right now he doesn’t even fucking care. Zayn’s precious to him. The thought of another Alpha going near him makes Liam seethe. Liam’s the only one that could care for him right and he needs to knot him up to prove it.
“Are you jerking off?” Harry asks and Liam kind of is and he can hear Harry smiling. “Because you’re making me uncomfort-”
“Fuck off, man. Do me a favour, yeah? Try and get a picture of Zayn and – and, like, send it to me?”
Harry laughs out loud this time. “Only because I love you, dude.”
“Thanks.” Liam hangs up.
(That night he sobs into the phone, begging Zayn to come to him. He makes Zayn cry and after that night, whenever he goes into rut, he deletes Zayn’s number so he can’t call him.)
MAY, 2012. ZAYN.
Two years pass. Liam and Harry are now finishing their second year at university. Louis and Zayn are in year ten – they’re not the timid little Omegas that they once were. They’ve grown up a bit and they don’t need constant reassuring and caring for.
But Zayn still hasn’t gone through his first heat and sometimes, when they’re in bed, he just can’t handle the vulnerability, though Liam’s as tender as he always is. Zayn spends a lot of time angry with himself but he’s also angry at everyone else.
“How – how much longer?” Louis gasps, clutching his phone to his ear. He pushes his fringe back and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the flat of his palm.
Zayn glances over at him from where he’s lying on his own bed, fiddling with his lighter. He hears Harry’s deep voice over the phone and Louis groans bitterly.
“Hurry,” he sobs, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He nods at whatever Harry says and hangs up.
Zayn realises that he’s glaring at Louis, who is swaying where he’s sat on the edge of his bed. Though his cheeks are flushed and his clothes cling to him with sweat, small shivers rack his limbs.
Zayn looks back at his lighter. He wrinkles his nose. “Ugh…” he sniffs. “You fucking stink.”
It takes a moment for Louis to focus on his words. Then he frowns. He opens his mouth but he doesn’t have the strength to reply. He shakes his head and looks away.
Now he’s probably crying, Zayn thinks meanly. He pretends to ignore him instead, glowering at the orange flame above his lighter.
The silence lengthens and Louis drops his forehead against one knee and smothers a moan. His hand is pressed over his cock like it’s a bleeding wound.
Zayn sighs and slumps off his bed. He goes over to Louis, crawls on the bed behind him. He pets his hair and squeezes his neck and holds him till Harry arrives. When he does Louis scrambles off the bed and practically leaps at him, sobbing into his mouth as Harry’s long fingers grope him through his pyjamas.
Out in the corridor Zayn calls Liam.
“Hnngh?”
“Did I wake you?”
“S’alright, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just – can I come over?”
“Yeah, babe. O’course.” There’s the sound of his bed groaning, the covers shifting. “Imma come get you.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”
Zayn lets himself in with the key Liam has given him. Inside its dark and quiet and Liam’s bedroom door creaks when Zayn eases it open.
Liam’s fallen back to sleep. Moonlight slants across his broad, meaty back and over one cheek. His plump, pink lips are parted against the pillow and stubble covers his jaw. As Zayn approaches the bed he shakes himself awake. One arm reaches out and he pulls Zayn into his lap, rolls him over and presses Zayn into the covers.
Zayn arches into the warmth of Liam’s body and Liam noses along his throat and murmurs, “you reek babe. You’re in heat.”
Zayn’s heart races. “It’s Louis-” he stammers, “‘M not – not in heat.”
Liam groans wearily into the darkness and drops his head onto Zayn’s chest.
Zayn watches the shadows move across the ceiling and thinks: I should have lied.
Liam sucks in a huge breath and pulls away.
Zayn follows him, catches his arm. His fingers look tiny around the bulging muscles of Liam’s bicep. “Do it anyway,” he whispers.
Liam’s eyes close as though he’s in pain. He pulls his arm free. “Can’t.” Zayn has to pull him back again.
“I’m fifteen now,” he says. “Liam please.”
Liam can’t even look at him. He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna be that guy. I won’t do that to you.”
“Babe, come on – I’m ready, I know-”
“Zayn,” Liam’s says, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Stop fucking asking.” He jerks his arm away and stands up. “You don’t think I FUCKING WANT TO!”
Zayn jumps violently and tears pool in his eyes.
Liam’s kneeling at his feet in a moment. “Oh God, Zaynie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He squeezes Zayn’s arms and Zayn nods shakily. He releases a little hiccup of a laugh, embarrassed, and Liam smiles warmly, eyes crinkling up.
“You’re not – you’re not ready, babe. I promise. You know I love you and I want you… But I – I can’t. Okay?”
Zayn shrugs him off. “I want you,” he protests. “I can’t – can’t keep doing this - I, I need more. Please.”
Liam strokes his hair. “Zayn-”
“Just fuck off,”Zayn whispers. He tries to get up again but Liam pushes him back.
“We can wait, babe, okay? We can wait.”
Zayn nods, looking down at his lap. Liam takes his hand and kisses it.
“Come on,” Liam whispers and shuffles Zayn back onto the bed, climbing in beside him. He wraps Zayn up against his chest and Zayn buries his face in the soft curls and tries not to be angry with Liam too.
“I’m ready, man,” Zayn mutters, “I fucking know I am.” He sucks on his cigarette and watches the smoke vanish into the gusts of wind. He’s sat with Louis outside their dorm block, hunched against the cold in pea-green coats that drown their diminutive frames.
Louis accepts the cigarette from Zayn and sticks it between his lips. “It’s bullshit,” he agrees.
“I’m almost sixteen, I mean – ugh.” Zayn drops his forehead against his knees. The next bit comes out mumbled. “It’s been two years, babes. What if he – what if he gets tired of waiting or summat. I-”
Louis whacks his shoulder to shut him up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, then – more gently, “lovie, come on.” He wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulder. “Liam would wait a thousand years for you.”
“He’s used…” Zayn says into his knees, “he’s used, like, four fingers on me, I mean… Come on. I can take it. I’m a – fucking – big boy, alright?”
“Yeah but don’t, like, force it, bro,” Louis says and Zayn can hear him smiling. “When it happens you’re gonna be fucking rabid.”
Zayn purses his lips against a smile and lifts his head.
Pulling back, Louis takes his small victory and runs with it. “Ughh, Liam,” he groans. “Oh Liam, oh Li-i-i-iam!” He jumps onto the balls of his feet and starts humping Zayn, knocking him over against the wet ground.
“Oi, alright, stop! Jesus!” He pushes Louis back, giggling his wheezy, staccato giggle.
Louis sits back against the wall, smiling.
Zayn puffs on his cigarette again. “I won’t cry, or anything. That would be embarrassing.” He grinds his cigarette into the ground and grins when Louis shrieks in protest.
“I don’t fuckingcry… Anymore.”
Zayn throws him a sceptical look.
“Not every time,” Louis amends.
Zayn’s smile widens and he makes his bottom lip start to wobble. “Hurts,” he whines, “So hot… ‘M so horny. Wahhh, wahhh, wahhh.”
Louis pushes him over. “Right. I’m going inside. Fuck you!”
Zayn scrambles after him. “Fuck me,” he cries, breathless from laughter as he imitates Louis, “fuck me!”
APRIL, 2013. ZAYN.
“Fuck me! Please. God. Harry, please – please-”
“Shh-shh-shhh.” Harry whispers, prying Louis’ fingers from the pillow and guiding them between his legs. Louis hides his face in his arm and gulps back his sobs. Harry gets Louis to stroke himself and patiently waits for him to get his breath back before removing his own hand. Louis’ flat on his belly, hips raised off the bed so he can fit a hand under him. Harry straddles the back of his thighs, leans down and pushes though the mess of Louis’ slick with his cock. Louis whines helplessly and starts to cry again.
Across the room Zayn rolls his eyes. Liam squeezes his hand to draw his gaze back to him. “Maybe,” he whispers hopefully, from where he’s crouched beside Zayn’s bed “…maybe it’s your heat?”
Zayn shakes his head. “I’ve thrown up,” he mumbles.
Behind Liam’s head Harry is rolling his hips into Louis. His cock comes out glistening. Louis went into heat a few hours ago and Liam always shows up when Louis’ in heat (which only happens every few months now), hoping it’ll send Zayn over as well. He was disproportionately excited to find Zayn with a fever.
Liam smooths his hair back. “You’re burning up,” he points out.
Zayn pushes his face into the pillow. “‘M not even wet,” he says into it.
Liam sighs and kisses Zayn’s shoulder. He pushes to his feet, climbs carefully over Zayn and slides under the covers.
Zayn moues in protest, shifting around to face him. “Don’t want you to get sick,” he whispers.
Liam squeezes him. “Alphas don’t really get sick,” he says, shrugging apologetically.
Zayn sniffs and wriggles into his embrace, slotting their legs together and nosing at the downy curls that cover Liam’s chest. Liam throws the duvet over their heads. He’s big and hot and his scent fills Zayn’s nostrils, drowning out, even, the smell of Louis’ heat. His broad palm slides up and down Zayn’s back and his mouth is warm where it’s pressed to Zayn’s hair. He hikes Zayn’s thigh over his hip and his cock, full and warm, fits snuggly under Zayn’s arse.
Three years of waiting, however, has taught both of them inhuman kinds of restraint. So they fall asleep like that, listening to Louis’ cries and Harry’s grunts and pretending that they’re satisfied with the way things are.