Chapter Text
Logan glanced at his watch, then sighed, annoyed. The traffic around the holidays was abysmal, and even though he was less than ten blocks from home, at the rate this cab was going, it’d take an hour to get there.
“You know what?” he said to the cabbie, digging out his wallet. “Let me out here. I can walk.”
“You sure, sir?” The cabbie frowned over his shoulder at Logan. “Radio says the snow’s gonna start any moment.”
“I’m sure. I know a shortcut.”
The cabbie shrugged, rattling off his fare, and Logan handed him two twenties to cover the $29 ride. “Keep the change,” he said, climbing out of the cab.
“Oh--yes, sir! Merry Christmas to ya, sir!”
Logan smiled tersely and closed the cab door behind him, popping up the collar of his trenchcoat against the chill in the air and adjusting his scarf. It was getting cold, and colder by the minute, but he was glad to be out of the stuffy cab and breathing the (relatively) fresh air of the city.
He began walking, his long legs eating up the sidewalk. After a long day in court, the walking felt wonderful, allowing him to stretch his stiff muscles. He was lost in thought about what Patton might have made for dinner, and whether or not Virgil’s new hormone pills would ease his sometimes-painful heat cycles, and as such he almost missed the soft whimpering from the alley he was walking past.
He paused, frowning. He normally wouldn’t have bothered to look--just another stray dog--but there was something about the sound that gave him pause. He hesitated, glancing around, but the sidewalks were mostly empty. No one else, it seemed, was interested in enjoying the brisk air.
He turned down the alley and walked forward cautiously. “Hello?” he called. “Is...someone there?”
The whimpering stopped abruptly, and he heard the shuffling crash of cardboard boxes falling down. He blinked, when a face peered at him from around a dumpster, a pair of ears pricked forward curiously. Logan gaped, startled, and the omega’s ears immediately flattened against his head.
“S-s-sorry, sir,” he whimpered, lowering his eyes. “I d-d-didn’t muh-mean...t-t-to…”
Logan shook off his startled response and moved forward immediately. He might take suppressors (he was not interested in being a slave to his baser impulses--omegas deserved better from their Alphas) but that didn’t mean his instincts as an Alpha were completely subdued. What on earth was an omega doing out here in this weather? Especially one who Logan could tell at a glance was of such excellent breeding?
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, when he rounded the dumpster and took in the pathetic sight before him. The omega was curled up on a cardboard box, wearing a pair of tattered and stained jeans and a tissue-thin t-shirt that was several sizes too small for his muscular build. Logan swallowed--though the omega was not in heat, and he himself was on suppressors, he still felt something, some deep, powerful instinct, stirring within him.
Protect him protect him protect him--
He shook his head sharply, and the omega cringed, whimpering softly. “S-s-sorry,” he said again, teeth chattering in the cold. “I--I’ll...I’ll guh-guh-go s-s-somewhere else…”
“No, that’s not what I…” Logan cut himself off. He knelt in front of the omega, peering into the handsome face. “Hey,” he said, very gently. “Would you look at me?”
The omega did, slowly, turning a pair of soulful brown eyes up from beneath the fringe of his hair. He wasn’t just handsome, Logan realized abruptly. He was gorgeous, if a little underfed and dirty at the moment.
He also was in real danger of freezing to death out here. While omegas were a bit hardier than betas, they weren’t impervious to the elements, especially not a winter as bad as this one was supposed to be (and extra especially in clothes as thin and ragged as the ones this omega wore).
“What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked softly. He could tell by the scent markers that this omega wasn’t claimed, but how was that even possible? He had to hold at least a minor pedigree. Hell, he looked like a champion breeder, under the dirt and grime.
The omega simply shrugged, however, lowering his eyes again. “I...I…”
Logan decided to try another tactic. “Do you have a home?” he said.
The omega shook his head once, after a long moment’s hesitation.
Logan bit his lip. The omega was between heat cycles--if he was scenting him correctly, he’d given birth within the past few months. What kind of an alpha would dump their omega when they should've still been in the nurturing period for the pups? Had the pups even survived? Had this omega received proper post-natal care? He feared he already knew the answer.
Logan firmed up his jaw. Maybe this was stupid and impulsive, but he couldn’t leave the omega here in the cold, where he would surely die before spring. To do so went against every instinct he had as an Alpha (not to mention against his job).
He rose to his feet, and the omega looked down again, curling up on himself. “What’s your name?” Logan said.
The omega looked started by the question, but looked up briefly. “R-roman,” he said.
Logan frowned, the name ringing a faint bell, but he pushed the small niggle of familiarity aside and smiled.
“Roman,” he said, “My name is Logan. Would you like to come with me back to my house?”
Roman’s ears pricked up a little and his tail wagged hesitantly, but he tilted his head, confused.
“To your house?” he repeated softly. “B-but...but I’m not in heat.”
Logan felt his heart cracking a little. “I know you aren’t,” he said gently, holding out his hands. “But you’re going to freeze to death if you stay out here.”
Roman shuddered, looking frightened, but lowered his eyes. “I’ll...I’ll be f-f-fine, sir,” he mumbled. “You duh-d-don’t have t-t-t…” his teeth were chattering too hard to even finish the sentence.
“I know I don’t have to,” Logan said firmly. “But I want to. I promise I won’t hurt you,” he added, more gently.
Roman looked up and hesitated. Logan could tell he desperately wanted to accept, but that he was afraid. But not, Logan realized, for himself--at least, not for his physical safety. He was afraid of something that would hurt altogether more than any physical abuse ever could--something that Logan saw on a daily basis, doing what he did.
He was afraid of the pain of being rejected by an Alpha.
Logan swallowed. This was really, really stupid--and he knew it was stupid. He didn’t believe in the whole ‘love at first sight’ Alpha-omega thing. He’d spent his whole life advocating for omega rights because he thought it was all nothing more than the result of pheromones and Alphas thinking with their cocks instead of their brains. He’d always assumed most Alphas were literally just claiming fucktoys, not making lifelong commitments to take care of their omegas. With the pedigree programs that existed now, too, so many Alphas claimed omegas as status symbols. The whole ‘sacred bond’ that some of the old-school activists went on about had always seemed like so much bullshit to Logan, even with Virgil and Patton as examples. They were the exceptions, not the rules--complete outliers borne of Patton’s deep-seated desire to love and be loved, and Virgil’s own unique nature.
But right now, looking into this omega’s eyes, the insistent chanting of his mind and heart (protect him! protect him! protect him!) was impossibly loud, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to ignore it any longer.
He drew a breath, then said softly, “Roman? I...I’d like to take you home.”
The words might have been more or less the same, but Logan meant them in an entirely different way. And he knew Roman could hear it--and smell it, in the sudden wave of protective, possessive pheromones Logan knew he was emitting from every pore. He fought down a blush, and held out his hand, waiting.
Roman hesitated, then slipped his hand into Logan’s, allowing the Alpha to pull him to his feet. He was quite tall, Logan saw--almost as tall as Logan himself. And while he was thin now, Logan could tell he’d been very muscular before he’d fallen on hard times. His eyes were wide, hopeful, and fearful all at once, like he was afraid to believe this might really be happening.
“You...you do?” he whispered. “R-really?”
Logan nodded, drawing Roman in against his chest. The omega folded in against him, and burrowed into his scent, letting himself be claimed.
“Really,” Logan whispered, his heart catching in his throat as he wrapped his arms around his--his--omega.
Well. This was not how he’d expected the evening to go.
Patton was going to flip.