Chapter Text
Connor Storrie does not like Hudson Williams and he hasn’t even met him yet.
“Is Daddy coming?” Shane asks from where he’s been quietly reading a book on the class beanie bag.
Connor looks at the clock: “I don’t know, sweetie. I think so; he’s just running late. Do you want to pick out another book?”
“Yes, please,” Shane says politely.
Shane is a sweet and precocious four year old boy, and he is one of Connor’s favorites in his class, so it breaks Connor’s fucking heart that he can’t get into contact with his dead-beat fucking millionaire Dad.
How can a man be so successful at work and fail so much at being a Dad? Connor wonders as he dials Hudson William’s number on the class phone, just to immediately be informed by the secretary that he’ll be running late. Again.
By the time that Hudson fucking Williams shows up, Shane’s already read all of Connor’s library books, and he’s resting his face on Connor’s lap, thumb in his mouth as his eyes get heavy. Connor’s on his phone because it’s been an hour and he’s fucking hungry. Nobody is left but the janitor and principal, who keeps coming in to check that he’s okay.
“Hey! Connor, right?”
“Daddy!” Shane says as he gets up and flings himself around Hudson’s legs.
“Hi, Mr. Williams! I’ve been trying to get in touch-“ Connor says as he gets up, and his whole face turns red because oh my god—
“Hey, there,” Hudson says with a cocky little smirk as he takes in the redness of Connor’s face.
Fuck.
“Hi, hello, um, have you been getting my messages? I’ve been writing and calling regarding your son, and you haven’t been responding,” Connor says with his stupid face still flushed.
“Oh, well, I would have picked up if I had known Shane’s teacher was so beautiful,” Hudson says with a sharp alpha grin as he picks up Shane into his arms.
And as cringe-y as that line was, Connor can’t help but swoon a little anyways; his stupid omega instincts are purring as he devours Hudson with his eyes. Hudson’s wearing a fucking suit and trench coat, and Connor knew he was wealthy, but he didn’t realize he was this handsome. Like, the kind of handsome that took the air out of the room, and all of the thoughts out of Connor’s brain, all the thoughts except for—
I’m so fucked.
“I…thank you for coming,” Connor says, and he can’t help the way his biology tells him to expose his neck, and he unconsciously does, not even realizing what he’s doing until Hudson’s eyes snap down to check out Connor’s unmarked skin.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
Connor, flustered, tries to pop the collar of his shirt, but it just looks like he’s trying to draw more attention to his neck and flirt. And Hudson does not look uninterested; in fact, his eyes are going between Connor’s neck, lips, and eyes.
“Do you want to keep talking somewhere nicer? Maybe later tonight?” Hudson asks, subtle as a hammer.
“This is not a date, Mr. Williams-“
“Oh, no. You can call me Hudson.”
“Okay, Hudson. This is a parent teacher conference,” Connor says, furiously flushed. “And we actually have a lot to discuss.”
“Let’s discuss it over dinner,” Hudson continues with the charisma of a man who’s used to being told ‘yes.’ Insufferable. God, Connor wishes he wasn’t so attracted to this asshole.
Because Connor’s unable to be normal this close to his impending heat and Hudson’s unmasked alpha scent— his pheromones are just blatantly out on display.
Hudson sticks out his hand and wow is it huge; Connor shakes it, unable to find a reason to politely decline. Hudson grips Connor’s hand in his and looks in his eyes, and Connor feels so warm like he’s going into heat early. Wow. He’s actually never met anyone this beautiful. Shane’s a cute kid, sure, but Hudson looks like he could be a model.
“Okay, Hudson, why don’t you take a seat; we need to talk, please,” Connor says as he lets go of his hand in favor of pulling out two of the kid’s chairs for them.
Hudson sits, Shane still on his lap, and Hudson hasn’t stopped staring at Connor like he’s some shiny new plaything, just for him.
Connor adjusts the collar of his shirt again, back of his neck prickling, and primly crosses his legs; he really, really hopes and prays he’s not going into an early heat: “Thank you for coming here today. Shane is a very bright young boy-“
“Oh no, no need for all that,” Hudson interrupts. “I saw the quarterly report that was sent home. I know Shane can already read and write. He’s smart, okay? Gifted. So. I’m not sure what there is to talk about.”
Jesus.
Connor nods: “That is all true. Yes. Shane is smart. He can read, write, and count, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about today. In terms of social skills-“
“What social skills? He’s four. What social skills does he need?”
Connor does not know how to phrase this delicately.
Hudson taps Shane’s little leg: “Shane, tell Connor what I taught you about how to make friends.”
Shane holds up three fingers and dutifully recites: “First, smile. Second, shake their hand. Third, ask them if they want to play.”
“Yes,” Connor says with raised eyebrows. “And Shane goes up to all the boys and tries to shake their hands and ask them if they want to play.”
“So?”
“So, I believe that Shane shows some red flags of autism-“
“Autism? What are you talking about?” Hudson interrupts him, eyes narrowing.
“Well, like I said. He overapplies the rules you’ve taught him about making friends. He’ll try to shake the kids hands at inappropriate times. He’s very literal and in his own world. He does not make eye contact when he talks-“
“He makes great eye contact,” Hudson says and takes Shane’s face to make him look at him. “See? And he’s very smart!”
“Shane is very smart, but intelligence is not what I’m talking about. People who have autism can have different IQs.”
“So how do we fix this?”
Oh my god.
“It’s not something to fix. Shane might be a bit different than other kids, and that’s okay.”
”So, if we can’t fix it why are you telling me this?”
“It might just be helpful to get a diagnosis if you wanted to get Shane services or-“
“We don’t want that,” Hudson says with the authority of a man who knows whatever he says will be law. “Just…teach him how to make friends. Aren’t you his teacher?”
“I know how to make friends,” Shane protests from Hudson’s lap. “Daddy taught me the rules. I shake all the kids' hands at school.”
“Yes, Shane, you do. But remember we learned that if a friend does not want to shake hands, we can’t force them, okay?” Connor says and raises his eyebrows meaningfully at Hudson.
“Daddy, Connor taught me that there are some places where we do not try to make friends. Like in the bathroom. Well, not until we finish washing our hands,” Shane says as he turns up to look at his Dad. He says it all in a classic Shane monotone, Connor notes.
“Over applying rules,” Connor confides with a look at Hudson, who’s just staring at Shane with a confused expression.
“He’s fine,” Hudson insists, doubling down. “Shane has lots of friends at hockey, and okay maybe he’s a bit literal with the rules, but that will just make him successful at school and sports.”
“He will be successful,” Connor agrees. “I’m sorry if it came across in any way that he wouldn’t be fine. He will be! He’s going to have an amazing life. I just thought that maybe a diagnosis could help you both. Especially with Shane’s…moments.”
‘Moments’ is a great euphemism for when Shane melts down.
“Daddy, what’s Awww-tism? Do I have that?”
Hudson takes out his phone and hands it to Shane: “No, baby. Go watch some hockey videos over there. Here. Let the adults talk.”
“Okay, yeah, hockey,” Shane says as he takes Hudson’s phone and heads over to his favorite beanie bag for silent phone time.
“It’s normal for kids to have tantrums,” Hudson insists, doubling down. “He’s four.”
“Yes, it’s just difficult for the class when Shane gets stuck on something.”
“Okay, well, who cares?” Hudson snaps. “This is preschool!”
“Yes, but it could just help Shane if-“
“Okay, this is over. Shane is fine. He’s smart. He plays hockey better than anyone his age, and he’s going to have an amazing life. We don’t need this,” Hudson decides, baring his teeth a little in a grimace. “Thank you…Connor.”
And Connor’s now flushed but for a very different reason. He’s not great with people being upset at him, and while he knows he’s doing the right thing, he didn’t mean to upset Hudson this much.
Connor stands at the same as Hudson: “Sorry, I didn’t mean it offend you. I just-“
“Thank you, Connor.”
Hudson’s giving him a look that tells him that he’s on thin fucking ice, fuck.
And Connor’s omega instincts are telling him to keep apologizing until this beautiful alpha forgives him, but that’s ridiculous and stupid. Connor didn’t do anything wrong. He was just sticking up for his favorite student, Shane.
“Let’s go, Shane. Enough hockey videos for now; you can watch more at home,” Hudson says as he takes back his phone and picks him up.
“Daddy, we didn’t say ‘goodbye’ to Connor.”
“Goodbye,” Hudson says, not even looking at him as he picks up his son’s bag and tosses it over his shoulder.
“No, Daddy, I want to hug him.”
“Shane, you’ll see your teacher tomorrow; let’s go.”
But Shane breaks free to run over and hug Connor tightly around his legs, looking up at him with fierce, shining eyes: “Bye, Connor.”
“Bye, Shane. Take care, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning,” Connor says, reaching down to run a hand through Shane’s hair.
He looks up to see Hudson staring at him with a look he can feel all the way to the base of his spine, and Connor bites his lip, shaken by it.
“Shane, let’s go,” Hudson snaps. “I don’t want to ask again.”
“Okay,” Shane says, clearly not wanting to let go of Connor, but he obediently follows after his Dad, looking back over his shoulder at Connor with big, sad eyes.
Connor makes a silly little face at Shane and scrunches his nose to try and make him smile, and Shane blinks back and after a moment, he giggles and tugs on Hudson’s arm—
“Daddy, you didn’t give Connor a real goodbye. Remember? When you say bye you have to hug or- or shake their hand.”
“Shane. I love you, and I’m tired. Daddy had a long day, and he wants to go home. Bye, Connor.”
Bye, asshole, Connor thinks but bites his tongue.
And with that Hudson pulls Shane out of the room and closes the door.
Click.
Connor lets out a sigh; well, that was a total fucking disaster.