Chapter Text
Devery was nothing more than an assistant to the lead detective.
Sometimes fetching coffee was the most exciting thing on his schedule, sometimes that same coffee written into his little flipnote would be scribbled out with pen when the errand was only an excuse for detective Banning to have him alone in his office.
A little blowie here and there, nothing serious.
You see, the graying Beta detective didn't particularly like Devery, only the power he held over him and how submissive the young man was despite his own position as an Alpha.
He didn't like him, so it was never anything serious, meaning Devery didn't have to mind it more than he thought he should.
After all, the twenty year old had worked his ass off to even enter the agency, getting fired or thrown down a few ranks wasn't at all a good idea.
He needed to be in the field of action.
He needed to get as close to the scene as possible.
Sometimes that was good, it earned him bits and pieces of his own interest that he could add to the board in his room stuck with tacks and colored strings leading around and back to notes and pictures.
Sometimes it was less than good, gifting him crime scenes and victim accounts that followed him into his dreams, terrible things that he tried to forget when remembering his own objective.
Today was a marrying of both of those sometimes.
A new lead for his private investigation, and an up-close and personal view of fresh atrocity.
"Oh, well." Mr. Banning sighed, scratching the back of his bowed head as he watched the silent thing on the floor at his feet.
"Doesn't serve us to nurse him and hope he might spit out names and descriptions before he kicks it, if he even has any." He decided, his head rising as he went for a stretch that said his workday had ended.
"You won't look into it?" The officer tasked with bringing him there questioned, half disappointed and half relieved it meant she could return to her other duties.
"No, I will not. Besides, the people who dumped him here won't be coming around to bother the neighbors anytime soon. Tell the housewife she can relax and just focus on her nosy brats." The old man grinned, rattling a laugh from the officer and motioning for his assistant to follow him out of the alley.
But the young man didn't fall behind at his heels like he expected, instead taking to his knees next to the battered Omega on the cold sidewalk that Banning had marked off as a waste of time.
"Devery, we're heading back. Best thing we can do is hope someone else with a kind heart and a fatter wallet takes the whore in."
"I'm heading home now, sir. Good work today." The assistant replied, no intention of complying.
"I'm not waiting to drive you home, I don't have time for that. You can stay and try with the bitch if you want, but you'll have to walk home alone if you do. And to work tomorrow." The old Beta cautioned him, not liking the idea of his assistant excusing himself early of his own accord.
"Understood, sir. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Banning."
And that was the last of it, the detective left with the haughty idea that Devery would regret not following.
But there was no chance that regret would find him.
He was gentle when brushing the disheveled hair from the dazed Omega's bruised face, it only made his heart rate build further.
The boy's misty eyes stared off, frozen in a scene that had long passed him by, a bloodshot sclera around the delicate amber Devery recalled very well.
It really is him.
A twisted smile tugged at the corners of the Alpha's mouth and with the bit of courtesy he could afford, he covered that expression with a shaking palm.
His heartbeat rose into his ears.
There wasn't any doubt Devery had seen this Omega before, paraded around by his proud father at events before their family's connections with a certain man were violently severed 3 years ago in a scandal.
This Omega's family mysteriously disappeared not even days before that very same man fled from the public eye.
"Ianira Espinosa." He said aloud, but the boy didn't give any reaction, he only wheezed soft breaths and blinked slowly in his sorry state.
The chill atmosphere helped calm his adrenaline, flooding its way into Devery's lungs with every gasping breath.
He shook the anxious thought that the Omega might really be broken beyond repair out of his head, carefully wedging a hand between the boy and the concrete, feeling as Ianira stiffened out of reflex to his touch.
It made his stomach twist, but he swallowed back the nausea to raise the frozen body from the floor.
"We'll get you sorted." The offered assurance fell on deaf ears.
Then, "I'm sorry. You'll be okay. It's okay." Muttered words of comfort for Ianira, himself, and someone long dead.
The white vapor words soon disappearing in the stagnant, wet autumn air.
—
After finally making it to his apartment and getting his newest lead through the door, Devery was sure Ianira was vacant.
The long walk with Devery's arms cradling him had warmed the boy at least a little, and he had tried time and again to explain that he was safe and in well meaning company, but the Omega didn't react to anything, his eyes never darted, he never whimpered or groaned about the pain he was absolutely in, he didn't even adjust his stiff body's position during the whole commute.
Devery wondered the whole trek if he would be better off taken to a clinic, but by the time he decided, curfew was upon them anyway.
No clinic would be open until dawn, and the emergency clinics would just turn him away when realizing he wanted them to nurse a half-dead Omega whore stinking of countless Alphas without the coins to pay the curfew fees.
He knew they would turn him away.
So he set the boy down on the mat next to the tub, very clearly stating, "If you want to undress and bathe yourself, I will leave so you can do so. Right now, I'm under the impression that you're not able to do that on your own and I will have to help. If you want to bathe yourself in privacy, please say something."
He was nervous to undress the Omega, the torn shirt and ill-fitting boxers he wore didn't hide much of the damage, but Devery dreaded the sight of it anyway.
Ianira did not reply.
So the nauseous Alpha very tenderly slipped the shirt up bruised ribs, a purple neck, bitten shoulders, and off of colorful wrists, wincing as he narrated his intentions aloud before he acted on them. "I'm going to take your underwear off now, but I won't look, okay? I'm sorry if any of this is uncomfortable, I'm really not sure what else I can do to help you right now besides getting you warm and clean. I'm sorry."
Ianira did not answer, nor protest, he just breathed and stared at a spot on the floor beside him.
"You're just so cold." Devery mumbled, an expression on his face the other should have worn.
As promised, he did not look, both for his own peace of mind and to give some humanity back to the used and discarded thing now propped up in a blue castiron tub.
He ran the water until it was just warm enough to help Ianira's internal temperature and not sting against his icy skin.
Once the water had risen to Ianira's ankles, Devery noticed a shiver as it ran him through and a sharp hissing inhale that followed it.
He let the reaction excite him even though it wasn't a sign of comfort, quickly badgering Ianira with, "Is it too cold? Too warm? Does something hurt?"
But again, to his impatient disappointment, the boy did not reply.
The tub was filled, and Devery took a wet cloth over the Omega's shoulders, carefully dabbing at the bites until the clotted blood cleared and the bruising underneath was visible, then he emptied the tub to refill it with more clean water, a little warmer than before.
Speaking softly all along, describing his every move aloud, whether or not Ianira could hear him, whether or not he appreciated the gesture.
He massaged scentless shampoo into the boy's matted waves twice, covering his glazed eyes with a hand when it was time to rinse, and regretting that he had no conditioner to heal the poor locks.
The dark brown hair came out of his head in chunks, from yanking or stress or both, Devery didn't dwell on it.
By the third refill of the tub, the water stayed clear instead of staining into a bloody orange color like it had before, and now that Ianira could feel again, he was shivering violently.
Devery attempted to get the boy to stand so he could dry and dress him, but each time, his legs gave out beneath him.
It was onto the mat again for him.
The Alpha's full focus was on drying him as gently as possible now, his best towel, his smallest pats, and an apology here and there whenever he had to dry places lower than the Omega's waist.
Once Ianira was dry, the Alpha pulled his well stocked aid kit from beneath the sink.
He disinfected the bites, then dressed the bites as well as the rinsed cuts in an antibiotic ointment and as many bandages as he could puzzle together over the map of wounds.
Then Devery slowly dressed Ianira in his own shirt, in briefs that hadn't ever fit him but were too nice to toss, and shorts that he could trust enough to stay on the sickly skin-and-bones youth.
After everything, Devery was exhausted.
Not as exhausted as Ianira, he knew, but his arms ached from carrying and caring and his back wanted nothing more than to just rest.
He carried the Omega one last time, lowering him into the bed he wouldn't be using tonight.
He had a couch, and that would do.
Ianira shifted once set down, taking to a fetal position, his arms wrapping defensively around his waist and neck, still shivering.
Devery tucked his comforter around the boy.
"Are you hungry? You're probably thirsty too. I'll get you something."
And he did, some oatmeal and brown sugar and a cup and pitcher of water he set on the cluttered nightstand.
He stacked his only two pillows and guided Ianira's position until he was leaning on them, but the motionless Omega would not open his mouth when the spoon came forward.
Devery was shocked that he refused something, and at the fact he hadn't expected it.
Of course he wouldn't want an unknown man feeding him distrustful foods and water, he reasoned in his head.
"Here, look." He said, bringing the oatmeal to his own mouth for a bite and swallowing it, Devery found that he himself was hungry with the bite.
He brought out a new spoon for Ianira's use, but still he wouldn't part his lips.
Maybe he doesn't feel like eating.
So he offered him water, and he didn't want that either.
Devery puzzled at it for a long time, how he could convince the young thing to eat or drink, what the best food would be to feed him, how long he had been starved for, if he just needed a bit of rest.
It got late, the oatmeal was cold, and Devery did have work in the morning.
Unless he didn't.
He could just call in sick.
Well...
Could he call in sick?
Truly he'd only heard of the concept, never having the opportunity throughout his 4 years in the workforce to use it himself.
He had called for rut leave, but never sick leave.
He shrugged his sore shoulders, better late than never, and Ianira being within reach and alive and being kept that way was much more important.
He would call in sick.
Devery ate the cold oatmeal, replacing it with an apple in case Ianira decided to eat, and wished him goodnight before he went to bed.
—
Devery wasn't able to sleep with the thoughts rushing through his head, but he laid his tired body down and at least rested his eyes.
He checked on his feverish guest throughout the night whenever his nerves got the best of him.
He didn't think Ianira was sleeping either, his eyes never seemed to close for long, but he was still breathing and that's what mattered the most for now.
When dawn broke, Devery only grew more restless, but he couldn't let himself "wake up" until it was 6, the time he would usually be at work by.
Eventually, the time came, and he finally rose to make the call.
He turned the numbers in carefully through his blurred vision, raising the receiver to his mouth as the line rang.
"Hello?" The receptionist answered smoothly.
"Ah-um, hello, Airen.. This is Devery Brandt, I'm under the weather and I won't be able to make it in today."
"Sick?! Aw, Dev, I'm sorry to hear that! Do you need anyone to visit and-"
Click
"..Hello?" Devery asked to the crackling transmission, until, "Hello." Mr. Banning greeted him.
The detective continued, "I just got in, I heard Airen say you're sick?"
"Yes, sir... I, uh, must've caught something in the rain yesterday."
"The rain?" Banning laughed, "Oh, no. You got so close to that petri dish I'm not surprised you caught something."
"Petri dish, sir?"
"The whore, I mean. all kinds of diseases, fluids, pheromones... Might as well be a biological weapon."
Devery's skin crawled as his boss laughed at his own joke.
"You didn't sleep with him did you? I know how you Alphas can get, even a whiff of those pretty little things and you're tearing their-"
"No, sir." The Alpha cut his joke short, cradling his twisting stomach with a free hand.
Sure, many Alphas plead innocent to crimes with the claim that Omegas' pheromones strip them of any conscience and awaken something primal in them.
But even if that were true, and Devery were one of those Alphas, Ianira smelled nothing like an Omega.
In fact, Alpha scents were the ones that overwhelmed Devery each time he was in the same room as the boy.
Even when carrying him, there wasn't any note of Ianira's soft citrus scent Devery had smelled on him once before.
Before, when he was still able to speak and smile and be in the safety of his father's escort.
The Ianira dumped on the wet sidewalk was not one that was easy for Devery to recognize.
Devery often imagined his boss in the very same situations he joked about, it made it easier for him to react properly, it made it easier for him not to get distracted from what was necessary.
He imagined Mr. Banning crying and begging mercy from countless Alphas to the sound of his grating voice over the transmission.
After much too long, the call ended along with a useless conversation Banning struck over the weather and the brawl that he had witnessed in the bar last night.
His boss bid him adieu with, "I expect you in tomorrow, Devery. I'll pick you up. Can't keep justice waiting, eh?"
And Devery rolled his eyes at the hypocrite on the other line, hanging up without exchanging his own goodbye.