Chapter Text
Flambae pounds his fist against the door in front of him, uncaring of the neighbors who will likely have a problem with the loud noise. He doesn't care about them in the first place, and even if he did, he doesn't have time right now. He's technically on shift right now. He should be heading back to SDN. He just decided to take a detour to their actual dispatcher's apartment to see why the fucker didn't show up today (and why he didn't tell anyone that he wasn't). Now, the z-team is stuck with some newbie filling in the position, and Flambae knows that he's not the only one close to setting the stranger's car on fire even if he's the only one with fire powers.
"Bob-bob. Bitch. Pathetic normie," Flambae hisses through the door. He considers setting the door on fire. He'd put it out before it reached anyone else's room, of course, or after someone called SDN because then Flambae would get points for it. Flambae decides—probably against his better judgment—to keep knocking. "Robert, get your beta ass over here and open the fucking door before I—"
Flambae doesn't get to finish his fantastic threat because the door finally does open. His fist continues swinging forward, nearly slamming the door handle into the wall perpendicular to the door. It would have hit Robert if the beta wasn't already retreating back into his apartment. Flambae glares at the treatment he's receiving right now after he came all the way here to make sure Robert hadn't choked in his spit like the pathetic weakling he is.
"Hey, bitch, what the fuck gives, huh? Why the hell are you here instead of…" Flambae's voice trails off once he's shut the door behind him. He sniffs the air cautiously. It's that fucking scent. It randomly appeared a few days after they defeated Shroud. It's always very, very faint, but it's present enough that almost everyone on the z-team has noticed it (the ones with the stronger senses of smell, anyway). They can't figure out where it's coming from, and it's been driving them up the damn wall. Flambae knows from personal experience that it's starting to tug at instincts that are only reserved for pack which pisses him off even more.
And now, that scent is thicker. There's still a muted quality to it, an obvious attempt at suppressing it. This suppression, however, isn't enough to make the scent completely disappear. And now it's all over Robert's apartment. At this strength level, Flambae figures out that it belongs to an omega. A very unhappy one, at that, and although Flambae has no idea who it belongs to, his fingers twitch at his sides. He can't stand that this omega—whoever they are—isn't happy, and he's got no fucking clue why.
"Something's wrong," Robert says, voice tight and quiet. He's standing in the center of his living room. While there isn't much in his apartment to begin with, everything he owns has been strewn about like Robert has been looking for something. His eyes scan around as he twirls in slow circles. His face—usually so guarded—is unabashedly agitated and upset, bordering on a pout that gives Flambae pause. "Something's wrong."
"Of course something's fucking wrong, you obvious bitch. I know your beta nose can't sense it, but it smells like a depressed omega in here. You got a mate you're not taking care of? Trust me, Robert, I'm not kind to abusive assholes," Flambae says. Although it didn't go so well for him last time, he summons fire to his fingertips to show that he means business.
Robert doesn't even look at the fire. He's too busy staring at the ground, pulling his arms around himself protectively. "Mate? No, no… no mate. But pack? No… no pack… pack isn't… here? Real?" Robert drops his face into his open palm, sliding it down until his fingers can start pulling at his hair. "Something's wrong."
Flambae closes his fingers around the fire to make it disappear. He steps away from the smoke, not stopping until he's at Robert's side. He only means to slap some sense into the dispatcher, but being this close finally makes something click in his head. Unwilling to believe it, he leans forward. He cautiously sniffs the side of Robert's neck, not getting too close just in case his suspicions are correct. Of course, they would be, Flambae thinks, as he exclaims, "You're in heat."
Robert blinks. He tilts his head to the side, exposing more of his neck while also looking at Flambae. He seems confused for a few seconds, but he must figure something out as he nods slowly, "…yes."
Flambae freezes. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The information replays in his head over and over again. Robert is an omega. One in heat. And no one fucking knew that. Sure, Robert has never told anyone what his secondary gender is, but he never smelled like anything. He never engaged in any of the instincts that belong to the three secondary genders. They thought he was a weak, weak beta just like he's a weak, weak man.
But he's an omega, and that opens so many cans of worms that they're eating fish for months.
Robert starts to pull away from the alpha, returning to his campaign of looking around the apartment. He mutters that phrase to himself—"something's wrong"—to himself a few more times. The annoyance it fills Flambae with pulls him out of his frozen state. "Would you shut up? What's wrong is that you're out of your nest. Go sit in it or something. Fuck."
Robert squats, crossing his arms over his knees. He stares at the couch cushion in front of him that's across the room from the couch itself. "Nest…"
Flambae takes a deep breath. "Yes, bitch, your nest. Go get in it. I'll tell the others to bring stuff for it." He starts to pull out his comms when he realizes that Robert still hasn't move. Huffing out dark smoke, Flambae marches across the room and nearly scruffs Robert for being so stubborn and uncooperative (only the z-team are allowed to be that at Robert's expense). "Where's your fucking nest?"
Robert blinks owlishly at him, almost like he doesn't comprehend what he's saying. Flambae didn't want it to be true, but there's no where else he can look except the truth. "You don't have a nest, do you?"
Omegas have to have nests. There's literally no other option. It's a place where they feel safe. It stabilizes their instincts. It's where they bring their mates and pack in order to strengthen bonds. It's quite literally suicidal not to have one which is why Flambae shouldn't be surprised in the slightest that Robert doesn't have one.
"You are a fucking dumbass. A weak, pathetic little bitch boy that needs to get some will to live before I punch it into you," Flambae threatens. Robert frowns, either from the words themselves or the harsh tone or the fact that an alpha is visibly angry in his vicinity. The sorrow and guilt in the air thickens, and Flambae's gut twists at the realization that he's the reason for it. To make things right, he pulls Robert onto his feet. He shoves the omega's face into his throat, hoping that his own scent can calm Robert down until a nest has been built.
Robert sags against him, no longer muttering about something being wrong. Flambae thinks he might be falling asleep standing up, but he doesn't care in the slightest as he slots his comm into his ear. Immediately when he turns his location on, that fucking dispatcher starts yapping, "And where are you, Flambae? This is against protocol. You need to return to SDN immediately. I will report you to—"
"Shut the fuck up," Flambae harshly says. He's in no mood to deal with this dispatcher's bullshit when his actual dispatcher has already lumped enough of cow manure on his plate. The rest of the z-team whistle appreciatively at Flambae's attitude, but he silences them, too, when he declares. "I'm at Robert's."
"Is the lad alright?"
"Is it the flu? I've got money on it being the flu."
"I've got a twenty on starvation."
"He's in heat," Flambae says, glancing back down at Robert. He hasn't fallen asleep, but he's slowly becoming out of it. Clearly, he's trying to fight his instincts, which just makes the possible reason Robert doesn't have a nest all the more clear.
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"Betas don't have heats, love."
"It'd be hot if they did—"
"Fucking listen to me for a minute," Flambae nearly growls. Although he's not the only alpha part of the z-team, they do fall silent long enough for Flambae to get through this explanation. "He's not a beta. This fucker is the omega we've been sniffing, and now he's in heat. I don't think he knows what the fuck's going on. He's just tearing his apartment apart, looking for a nest he didn't build."
"Of course he wouldn't have a nest."
"Are you just breezing by the fact that Robert's an omega? How's he been hiding that?"
"I don't think we want the answer to that."
"I'm staying here for now," Flambae says, mostly talking to that dispatcher that has wisely stayed out of their team-wide conversation. "Bring… anything. His apartment was depressing enough when he was a beta, but now…"
The team makes noise of agreement. If they say anything, Flambae doesn't hear it. He's already putting his comm away again. In the silence, he turns his attention to Robert. Still fighting against his instincts, but at least his scent isn't as sporadic and upset. Flambae wraps his other arm around Robert, keeping his hand on the back of his head to make sure the omega doesn't slip away from the scent that's keeping him calm.
That, Flambae thinks, proves that Robert considers Flambae to be pack on an instinctual level, just like how z-team knew this omega they were sniffing was part of their pack (even if they didn't know who it was). That just presents even more annoyances and questions because what the actual fuck? Flambae feels like they all proved themselves that night when they fought Shroud. They became a pack, not just a group of fuck-ups forced to be in proximity. Robert, in the little ways, encouraged this mindset. He wanted them to consider each other family.
So, why didn't he tell them the truth? They already knew he was Mecha Man. How could be being an omega be worse than that? And why didn't he ever let his scent out or engage in the rituals a pack is supposed to do as an omega, not a beta? Does he not want to be a pack with them… or is it something else—something worse that already makes Flambae feel concerned about their dispatcher?
"Special delivery!"
Malevola steps through the dimensional rift with enough blankets and pillows piled in her arms to make it almost impossible to see. She continues forward, however, until she hears Prism call out, "That's far enough."
"Got it!" Malevola shouts over the mountain of comfort she's holding. Some of it came from her bed, some of it came from Sonar's bed, and the rest came from their living room. Malevola only second-handedly understands the secondary gender stuff, but she knows enough to know that what she has is absolutely necessary. She and Sonar are part of Robert's 'pack.' He likes their scent (even if Malevola can't smell those scents everyone's always talking about) enough to want to be surrounded by it, to have reminders of them in his 'safe space.'
Malevola feels someone tugging on one of the smaller pillows at the bottom of the pile. The entire thing falls forward, landing on the ground. Robert stands in front of it. He clutches the pillow to his chest. His expression is noticeably blank as he stares down at what's between his and Malevola's feet. His fingers reach for them, but he shakes his head abruptly and turns around. He takes the pillow (it's one from the living room, one that she and Sonar both use all the time) with him, bringing it over to what Malevola clocks as his nest.
It's… barren. He's using his couch as a foundation. There's a few pillows scattered across it. There's a sheet hanging from the back of the cushions to the ground below. He sets the new pillow on the ground, putting it along the edge to help hold the sheet down. Robert adjusts it carefully. Malevola doesn't understand it, but Robert only seems content when the angle is just right.
Prism sighs from where she and Flambae are sitting on the couch. Both of them look constipated, honestly, like they aren't happy but they don't want anyone else to know they're unhappy. Or, more accurately, they don't want Robert to know it. That doesn't mean much when Prism gestures to Malevola and Sonar's belongings on the floor. "Make sure he uses all of that shit."
"Yeah, for sure… why isn't he, though? I thought omegas like their nests really soft and full, you know?" Malevola asks. To be fair, she knows the least about omegas. There aren't any of them in their pack (other than Robert, apparently), and it's not like Malevola went to a class for this. She just knows what she's learned in prison and what Sonar managed to debrief her on before she opened a portal to their place to follow Flambae's instructions.
What she does know, however, is that thing about the nests. Even the wardens gave prisoners more than this for their nests. It's important, Malevola was told, tied directly to an omega's health. It might be acceptable for death row prisoners, but even then, torture usually isn't allowed.
Flambae rises to his feet. Robert looks up at him. Flambae squats down, setting his wrist against Robert's wrist. The brunette leans into it, distracted enough for Flambae and Prism to carry on this conversation. "Because he's a dumbass."
"We already knew that," Malevola reminds him.
Prism stands upright, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's an even bigger one than we thought. He won't use the shit we bring him. It can't be because he thinks he's too good for us because he's using some of it and happy to, as well."
Malevola nods slowly. There is an assumption she can make, but she doesn't want to. It's a little too sad to think that for all Robert tries making the rest of them feel like they're family, he doesn't consider himself part of it—not because he's, as Prism puts it, too good for them, but rather because he thinks they're too good for him. Robert has enough problems they have to help him work through; this cannot be another one.
"I-I brought—have stuff… I brought, uh—"
"Here's some more stuff."
Waterboy and Golem step through the dimensional rift Malevola left open to the SDN building. As they said (or tried to say), they're holding things marked with their scents. Unlike Malevola and the two standing in the nest, they've brought clothes more than blankets and pillows. Golem has a few hoodies that would be way oversized on the rest of them, and Waterboy has a random assortment.
Flambae looks at them unimpressed. "You sure he's going to want… that?"
Prism rolls her eyes. She steps out of the next to grab what Golem and Waterboy brought. She tosses them into the pile of Malevola and Sonar's stuff, which is bleeding into her and Flambae's belongings—everything Robert hasn't used but will if they have something to say about it. "Don't worry listen to him. He's just cranky."
"I am not—"
Prism sets her hands on Waterboy's shoulders. The hero-in-training visibly startles. He shies away from her, clasping his hands over his chest. "Listen here, Waterboy, Flambae and I have to go back to our shifts. That makes you the only alpha here…" Prism glances at Malevola and Golem. "…and the only one that understands the scent bullshit. We're counting on you, so don't fuck this up."
"Y-yes! Er, ma'am—Prism, yes!" Waterboy says. Malevola snorts.
Prism sighs with a shrug. She turns around, grabbing the back of Flambae's collar. She tugs him onto his feet, away from Robert. The omega watches Prism and Flambae walk to the portal. There's a quiet confusion in his eyes, a very slight heartbreak at watching them walk away. Waterboy's face crumples, so Malevola imagines something is happening with Robert's scent.
Unwilling to bear the silence, she squats down at the edge of the nest. She starts to grab different items from the pile. She offers them to Robert. He only stares at them, tucking his hands beneath his thighs as if he doesn't want them moving. Malevola feels the frustration growing until Robert quickly grabs something she was trying to put away. She startles, finding that Robert is staring directly at Waterboy. The ginger has a sorrowful expression on his face, but his eyes brighten when Robert finds a place for the damp pillow.
Malevola meets Golem's eyes. She whispers to him. "Look sad when he rejects stuff."
Golem doesn't understand what she's talking about, but he follows her orders. Malevola's theory is proven correct. Robert doesn't want them to be upset. He'll take whatever Malevola gives him if it will make the three of them happy. Malevola and Golem aren't too good at the pouting thing, but Waterboy has it down to the point that Robert's nest actually starts looking like a proper one that belongs to a healthy and well-loved omega (Robert is one of those, and z-team isn't going to stop until he's the other one, too).
Once they're done with that part, Robert grabs Malevola's wrist. He pulls her into the nest. She knocks a few things over, but Robert seems more bothered by her being outside his nest than he does with that. Well, actually, he's bothered the most by something else. He sniffs the air around her, frowning deeply. He meets her eyes, "Sick?"
Malevola shakes her head. She smiles at him. "Nah. I just don't have a scent."
Robert processes the words slowly. Part of Malevola doesn't think he even does as he asks, "Healthy?"
Malevola nods. Robert does, too, a smile returning to his face. With that in order, Malevola allows herself to relax in the nest, twisting her tail around Robert's waist. He doesn't fight her on this, just lifts his arms toward Golem and Waterboy. The two pause. Waterboy points at himself, "M-me? Us? You want us to—I'll just get it damp—wet. I-I'll get the nest wet. And I—"
"I don't think he's asking," Golem interrupts. Despite the assurance of his voice, he hesitates to step into the nest. He looks around at everything he's touching, muddy face twisting at the residue he leaves behind. Robert just sets a hand on Golem's forearm. He smiles up at the construct, leaving his other hand up. Waterboy looks distraught and close to hyperventilating, but he takes Robert's hands and lets himself be situated inside the nest. Robert does not complain about the dirt or water. He just smiles at the three of them, rapidly reaching towards perfectly content.
And then he makes a noise. None of them understand it at first, but Robert hits a note in just a way that reminds her of Sonar. Her eyes widen because, oh, he's trying to purr. He's got no idea what he's doing because it doesn't sound much like one, but he's trying.
As sad as it is that he doesn't know how to, Malevola can't help herself. She turns onto her side, throwing her arm around Robert's waist alongside her tail. That odd noise grows a little louder, and Malevola just melts into the comfort it brings her.
Unseen to the world, Courtney steps into Robert's living room. He's settling down for the night, adjusting thing around his nest with careful eyes. She doesn't know who's supposed to be staying with him right now, but they must have gone to the bathroom or on a food run (because it is so much easier to get Robert to eat actual food when he's like this). Courtney is not supposed to be here, and she almost leaves again, but Robert's eyes snap to her general direction, nose twitching with a scent Courtney should have been able to completely mask.
She takes a deep breath, reappearing. Robert recognizes her from her smell, so there's no surprise in his eyes. There's only happiness, far more than she deserves. Her heart seizes in her chest. She looks around from Robert, stepping to the edge of the nest. She holds out her jacket. She thought that since she wears it nearly every day, so it should have absorbed her scent even though she's just a beta.
"Here. You can fucking have it. Just don't be emotional about it, okay?" Courtney tells him. Robert doesn't react to her words in the slightest. Instead, he takes her jacket carefully with hands that are almost reverent. He draws it down into his lap, running his thumb over the material. The urge to abandon this entire thing rises in her chest again, but she can't do it when Robert grabs her wrist and pulls her down. Luckily, the nest is thick enough to soften the blow.
That also means she's in the nest, though, and she's not sure that's actually good luck.
Courtney turns around slightly to tell Robert that she can't stay—that she's leaving now. The words catch in her throat when she sees Robert setting her jacket in a very special spot, right beside the pillow he seems to be using. He smiles down at it, holding the sleeves with that same reverence as before. She can't breathe suddenly, flickering in and out of eyesight, all because she sees a shimmery quality to Robert's eyes.
"Pack," He says. He glances around, running his fingers along his surroundings. "All here. Pack is… all here." Courtney's throat tightens. She digs her fingers into the blanket beneath her. She didn't realize she was the only one who hadn't brought anything yet; she didn't realize Robert was waiting for her. But it feels so obvious now as he wraps his arm around her shoulder, dragging her into his side and forcing her head against his shoulder. "Family is here."
Family, he says.
It takes a few seconds, but Robert holds her through slowly relaxing. He starts rubbing her arm, and then she's melting into his side. She closes her eyes, letting the excuses about where she's supposed to be right now die on her tongue. Where else is she supposed to be except for with her pack?
Family, she responds.
The room is dark, but there is nothing it can hide from Janelle when the shadows obey her commands. She knows that there are only four people in the apartment around. Obviously, there's herself. She stands outside of the nest, right at the edge, with a knife in the sheath she attached to her belt, ready to reveal it in case they're attacked. She's protecting the three inside of the nest. Victor is in the back in his beast form, providing a warm and breathing pillow for Robert and Colm to recline against. Based on their breathing, the three of them are asleep.
They should be, Janelle knows, but also… she wonders about that. She told them she would protect them—and she will—but they just… seemed to believe her. There was no argument or doubt, only a little teasing that's common among the group. It's slowly growing to include Janelle, too, since she's come back, forgiven despite all her sins, despite how much she questions it.
A shifting noise draws Janelle out of her musings. Her muscles tense for an enemy to appear, but no one comes. Instead, it came from Robert. The dispatcher's eyelids flutter. Janelle hopes he'll go back to sleep, but he instead pushes against Victor's body to sit upright. He immediately goes to make sure Victor and Colm are comfortable. After he confirms that they are, confusion seems to spill over his features. He looks around the nest like he's lost something, and finally his head tilts back to look at Janelle. He frowns at her, opening both arms to her like a small child that wishes to be picked up.
Janelle shakes her head. She is well aware how sacred nests are. After everything she's done to Robert specifically, he shouldn't want her in his nest. He shouldn't want her anywhere near it, in fact, and he really shouldn't have trusted her to protect him and it and—
Her nose wrinkles. While her sense of smell is weaker due to being a beta, she knows immediately that Robert is upset. Janelle's brows furrow together. Her instincts remind her that he shouldn't be. He's an omega in the pack—the omega in her pack—should be happy, content, and safe in his nest. Anything different is simply unacceptable.
Colm and Victor shift in their sleep, both nearer to the scent and having stronger senses of smell. Robert doesn't seem to care that they're waking up anymore. Honestly, Janelle thinks he's doing this on purpose, like he's giving her an ultimatum: get in the nest or he'll gather the entire pack.
A quiet sigh leaves her. Janelle steps into the nest. She tries sitting along the perimeter, but Robert grabs onto her. He pulls her close. Completely off kilter with this whole experience, Janelle lets Robert hold her close. His scent improves immediately, and he makes an odd, rumbling noise against her chest. It pauses just long for him to say, "Pack."
She shouldn't be. She joined his enemy, tortured him, and fought against him after nearly destroying Los Angeles. He claims it's nothing compared to what he did to her—cutting her loose—and that he's forgiven her. Janelle constantly he shouldn't have, but as he settles closer to her, she has irrefutable proof that he did.
Janelle moves her arms around him. She nods slowly against the top of his head. "Pack."