Chapter Text
Steve glanced around his dark living room and poked his head into the silent, empty kitchen. He wandered down the deserted halls and paced up and down the stairs, once… Twice… For no reason other than to feel the familiar tawny carpet shift beneath his slippered feet. A strange place at the bottom of his spine seized painfully with every movement through the mostly-abandoned house and tears stung the corners of his eyes. Despite the Omega’s deep-seated, aching desire to do so, he refused to let them fall past his lashes.
He was stronger than a bunch of stupid instincts and hormones; he would be fine. Even if he didn’t really have a family anymore (despite being under the legal care of his parents). Even though Nancy – and before her, Tommy and Carol – had stopped talking to him. Even if he had been essentially abandoned by everyone he’d once considered his pack, Steve Harrington would be fine.
He always was.
He always needed to be, for himself and for the kids.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he choked out, continuing to hold back his tears.
Usually he went to Nancy’s house to celebrate the holidays with her extensive and rowdy pack. But after what went down on Halloween… Well, he certainly hadn’t been invited to the Wheeler Family Thanksgiving this year, and it was no mystery as to why. Their rather spectacular breakup at Tina’s party had been the talk of the town for several long, frustrating days earlier in November. His parents had called for the first time since school began to admonish him for losing the respect of the Wheelers and ending an otherwise satisfactory courtship.
His parents had explained, using some rather harsh, borderline cruel language, that they would not be coming home to see him for a long while yet. Steve would continue to receive a weekly allowance for gas and groceries, but in exchange he would be in charge of his own meals and keeping the entire house clean. As if he hadn’t been doing that since the last time he’d seen them in mid-July.
Steve honestly should have expected their brief, disappointed speech, but it still stung.
He’d cried himself to sleep two nights in a row over their harsh words and disappointed tones. Stupid fucking Omega instincts making him more sensitive to rejection. If he’d been an Alpha or even a Beta then things would be different. His parents might be home more often, or consider taking him with them on business trips. They might have supported him, respected him as a person rather than a disappointing drain on their resources. It wasn’t like he couldn’t attend business school, get a degree, and take over for his Dad – that was all shit Omegas had fought for and won decades ago; it was simply that he might choose to get pregnant someday. And that was something intolerable. One could not be a pregnant business tycoon, apparently.
So, when he’d presented at fifteen, his fate sealed itself. He’d be stuck here in Hawkins while his parents globe-trotted, like a monster-fighting princess who’d been locked in a tower. Well, at least his tower had a pool.
Steve fixed himself a bowl of Spaghetti-O’s and ate them alone at the kitchen table, wrapped in a thick fleece blanket from the couch. He washed the bowl by hand and wiped it dry, placing it back into the cupboard with a quiet clink. The sound nearly startled him, even though he’d watched the two porcelain dishes knock together. Frowning at the fog in his head, Steve gathered his blanket-cape closer around his shoulders and grabbed a can of beer from the fridge. Carefully, making sure not to trip, he made his way into the living room.
The Omega threw the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV and curled into a ball, trying to warm up his frigid toes by tucking them into the blanket between the couch cushions. As he sipped at his weak alcohol and dozed in and out of consciousness, he wondered if the house was always this cold or if the heater was on the fritz.
Lonely as he was on a day meant for family or packmates, Steve allowed his thoughts to drift in the direction of warmth and Alpha. He didn’t give in to the urges of his second gender very often, but he was just so exhausted and he wanted so badly to be held… He couldn’t help but fantasize a little to ease the ache. To pad the jabbing pain just above his pelvic bone.
Without consciously realizing it, Steve pictured an Alpha with a tan face, pouting lips, and a mass of dirty blonde curls. He thought of broad shoulders and knuckles bruised from starting fights. Steve could practically feel the phantom heat of the shorter teen pressed up against him in gym class and hummed contently at the memory. “Hmm. Billy.”
The Omega slapped both hands over his mouth and looked around with wide eyes, as if the grouchy, aggressive Alpha might pop out of the broom-closet at the sound of his name and call Steve a loser. When Steve realized what he’d done and how silly he was being, he rolled his eyes and tucked his arms back beneath the blanket. The house was so cold. If only… Well, no point denying his desires anymore.
If only Billy were here, maybe all that rage and warmth could be put to good use.
Steve spent his free Friday on the couch, wrapped in three layers of extra blankets from the linen closet. The Omega watched a few of his favorite movies, tried to nap with little success, and ordered pizza for dinner out of sheer laziness. He felt a little better after the Party stopped by for an impromptu visit, telling him all about the campaign they were about to start.
His spirits (and body temperature) were easily raised by their almost violent group cuddles, plastered together in front of the TV while a horror movie played in technicolor. Max scented Steve every time she reached to grab some popcorn from the bowl in his arms, her pale wrist glancing against his hair or shoulder from where she sat behind him on the couch. Will and Dustin were doing the same thing more subtly, rubbing up against him more frequently than normal. The behavior was odd but not unpleasant, so he let it fly.
The Omega got a couple decent hours of sleep after his pseudo-pack left for the Wheeler house. His nose stayed buried in the blanket they’d shared as they took up the whole living room with their chaos and noise. It was a heavenly nap, and when he woke again he was glad to not be shivering for once.
Foolishly, he called the heating-repair guy and canceled his appointment.
It was cold again on Saturday and freezing by Sunday. The Omega shivered his way through his morning routine and cranked the shower temperature as high as it would go. He basked in the temporary warmth offered by the water, but of course it couldn’t last forever and he was forced to turn the faucet off before its hard work went to waste. He crawled immediately back into bed after a bowl of cereal and stayed there all day and all night – sleeplessly exhausted – until he had to get up and get ready for school on Monday.
Steve’s head and back throbbed fiercely as he rolled from beneath the covers. As he pulled a sweatshirt over his head the Omega noted that his scent was mostly muted, like he was on the verge of getting a cold. But Steve’s nose wasn’t stuffy and his lungs weren’t bothering him at all. He did feel shaky, hot, and a bit nauseous, but he also knew his heat would be due over winter break. The teenager quickly chalked his symptoms up to PHS and shook his head.
“Well this is going to suck,” he sighed. The Omega shouldered his book-bag, fished his car-keys from his pocket, and headed out the front door.
And unfortunately, for once, Steve was right about something.
Billy flared his nostrils, searching the crowded hallway for the Omega’s bright, tangy, fresh-strawberry scent. This part of his morning routine always made the otherwise shitty school day worth the Alpha’s precious time. He’d have applied for early graduation by now if it weren’t for Steve Harrington and his addictive everything, and damn the Omega twice for having the audacity to be well above him on the socioeconomic ladder, too. How the hell could Billy ever court a guy like that, anyhow?
He fucking couldn’t.
And it really fucking sucked.
His disappointment doubled when there were no berries to be found. That meant Steve was sick or absent. "Well fuck this, then, I'm going home."
Billy was practically on top of Harrington before the brunette’s dull scent finally registered, his distinctive tart-sweetness so faint it was barely even present. That was… odd, to say the least, and worrying. Steve’s scent was aggressive for an Omega, one of the reasons Billy liked him so much, and dullness meant sickness. Or something worse, something practically impossible for a boy of Steve’s social caliber.
Hoping to make the strawberry overtones spike a bit, the Alpha bumped his elbow into Steve’s bicep, jostling his arm. Usually the tall, Bambi-eyed Omega would whip around to glare at him and throw around a few choice insults just for fun. He’d pull his shoulders back, posturing cutely, smelling like challenge and irritation the entire time; but in a totally Bizarro World turn of events, Steve curled his shoulders forward to make himself appear smaller this time.
The Omega didn’t even raise his bloodshot gaze from the tiled floor in order to stare Billy down when he mumbled out a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
Tommy Hagan laughed, sneering over to Billy like he’d forced Steve to cower and it hadn’t been the Omega’s natural reaction, “Have you not been getting much sleep lately, Stevie-baby?”
Steve flinched into the wall of lockers like he was expecting a blow from Hagan and Billy bristled. He knew firsthand what that kind of automatic reaction generally meant. How it became ingrained in one’s instincts. The Alpha knew what Tommy had rudely implied with his question and Billy found himself pinning the younger boy to the lockers long before his rational mind caught up with his body.
The broader, stronger Alpha snarled and bared his canines in an unmistakable threat, posturing fiercely to make every other Alpha in the hallway aware of Billy’s intentions: “Don’t fucking talk to Harrington anymore, you hear me? And don’t fuckin’ look at him, either. If anyone gets to mess with him, it’s me, got that? If I hear or see you within five feet of that Omega, I'll rip your brake line out with my teeth and choke you with it, fuckface.”
The moment Tommy nodded in understanding, Billy released him. He threw the strap of his worn brown messenger bag over his shoulder and stormed off to first period without another word. Each step was a battle against every instinct in his body. The Alpha in him screamed, howling at Billy to turn around and check on Steve. To hurry back and make sure his Omega would be alright.
But he’d already shown too much of his hand, and Steve wasn’t actually his Omega.
Never would be, either, at the rate Billy kept fucking things up.
Steve’s scent had grown even duller by third period, if that were possible. The Omega’s head kept swaying atop his neck and then drooping forward, only to jerk back up when the teacher scolded him or when his chin tapped his chest.
What’s wrong with him? Billy wondered, dutifully copying down the homework assignment from the blackboard onto the upper corner of his page. Why hasn’t he been sleeping, and why are his strawberries going flat? Is he sick? Does he have a cold or a fever? Does he have… There’s no fucking way it could be…
The Alpha shook his head and continued taking notes. He sternly reminded himself that Steve’s health was none of his concern. He needed to mind his own business and let the Harringtons take care of the Omega. That’s what rich, doting parents are for. He has a pack to take care of him. Steve doesn't need you following him around and whining at his back door for scraps.
Billy solved the equations on his page with ease, half-distracted by the cocktail of self-loathing and frustration bubbling in his gut. Nobody needed Billy Hargrove, in the grand scheme of things. So what was one more lousy, beautiful, perfectly sassy Omega? What was another unattainably wonderful potential mate? When he heard the teacher snap at Steve to “Please stay awake” for the sixth time in thirty minutes, however, he began to wonder how doting Steve’s wealthy family actually was.
Steve just wanted to go home and cry. He was totally fucking miserable.
Despite his long-sleeved shirt and sweatshirt and windbreaker, he still felt cold down to his bones. It was as if the early winter breeze had taken up residence in his veins, freezing him from the inside out. His joints ached. His skin felt tight and wrong somehow, enhancing the shivers he was barely able to suppress. Billy was wearing his leather jacket today, thick and heavy… Maybe he would be willing to – Steve cut himself off there. Hell would literally have to open a 24/7 skating rink before the toughest, most perfect Alpha at Hawkins High gave Steve his jacket to borrow.
Not to mention Billy had made it crystal clear how little he thought of the tall Omega from day one. He was always curling his lip distastefully in Steve’s direction and calling him demeaning nicknames like “pretty boy”, “doe-eyes”, and “princess”. The way the Billy’s voice was always a half-snarl when addressing Steve or Steve’s friends felt like a rebuff. Like it was painful for Billy to even give them his attention.
A sudden cramp ripped through his abdomen and the Omega tilted forward, his shoulder jamming painfully into the open door of his gym locker. His body wanted him to bend in half, to ease the contractions jumping beneath his abdominal muscles, but he outright refused to show any weakness.
Billy was right there, tugging his grey Hawkins Phys Ed shirt over his broad, sun-kissed shoulders. Steve didn’t want the Alpha to think any less of him than he already did. Tommy shot the Omega withering glares from a few lockers away but otherwise kept a wide berth, still obeying the younger boy’s snarled demands from earlier that morning. Steve shook his head to clear a second wave of disbelief but it backfired. The room swam.
He inhaled through his mouth and closed his eyes to let the nausea accompanying the cramps fade away, at least enough for him to keep moving. Some of his classmates had already made their way into the gymnasium, and he could hear his Coach’s voice getting closer to the door. He had no doubt the middle-aged Alpha was coming to yell at any remaining stragglers, and the Omega didn’t know if he could handle being admonished by yet another adult today.
Steve might actually cry if the Coach yelled, and Billy was still standing there, watching like a hawk as he struggled to change without letting his shivers grow too noticeable. For once Steve was looking forward to playing basketball with the Alpha; the promise of Billy’s radiant heat along his back was more tantalizing than the most expensive dinner at the world’s best restaurant. He wanted the to be warm again so fucking badly, even if it meant facing the wrath of his unrequited love.
So it was a shock to hear Billy’s voice ask him, so softly it was nearly a whisper, “Are you feeling okay, Harrington?”
Steve blinked furiously, trying to get his bleary eyes to focus. The locker room was so cold it was making them water; the whole school was fucking cold, honestly, so why did they have to wear shorts in early December? The Omega raised his head, blinked again, and replied: “Huh?”
Billy reached out to place the back of his hand against Steve’s forehead. Before Steve could moan like a swooning Omega stereotype at the briefest contact with an Alpha, Billy yanked the offending limb away. “Shit, Steve, you’re burning up. Why the hell did you come into school if you were feeling sick?”
Steve’s eyes rolled uselessly and his jaw worked, but no words would come out.
Touch me again! He wanted to scream. To beg. Put your hand back on my forehead for just a moment longer, please!
When the Coach did open the door with a grunt and ask what was taking them so long, Billy gave Steve a sideways glance. “Pretty sure Steve has the flu or something, sir. I think it would be smart for him to see the–”
“I’m fine,” Steve straightened up. He ignored the screaming pain in his limbs and gut, shooting the Alpha a thumbs-up. “Just stood up too fast. Sorry, sir.”
“Hurry your asses up, we’ve got a game to start.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Billy frowned up at him but didn’t say anything. With a silent prayer for strength, Steve followed the shorter boy out of the locker room and into a rousing game of basketball.
He made it approximately five minutes into the class period before passing out in the middle of the court.