mångata

by mpregterminator (mbortioncounsel)

Summary:

Mångata  is a Swedish word that means  the shimmering, road-like reflection of the moon on a body of water

When Baelor agreed to have Maekar live with him when he started university, he was merely supposed to take care of his brother. He saw it as an opportunity to bridge the distance their large difference in age had left them with and mend their bond.

Falling in love was not part of the plan.

But as Baelor would quickly learn, nothing quite goes according to plan when it comes to Maekar.

Notes:

I loved writing this fic so much, and I'm even more excited about posting it <3 #happyhammeranvilweek

The car ride is long and silent. Maekar keeps his eyes on the road through the window and is careful never to glance at Baelor, not even mistakenly. Still, he feels it each time Baelor's eyes fall on him.

It's not often. Mostly, Baelor focuses on driving; gods forbid he gets caught being irresponsible, but occasionally, when they're stuck in traffic, Baelor's face turns, and he takes in Maekar sitting in the passenger seat and doing an expert job of ignoring Baelor.

He is upset and is determined to let Baelor know it.

"Mother and Father only want the best for you, Maekar." Here it comes.

"I am aware," Maekar replies, clipped.

Baelor sighs, "They simply worry. You are their only Omega son, and they are aged now, and cannot be as involved as they wish to be."

"So they are making you babysit me!" Maekar snaps, finally turning his head to look at Baelor. "I am eighteen years old, not a child. Why would you even agree to this?"

"Why would I not?" Baelor frowns. "You are my brother, Maekar."

He can't help but scoff at that.

"And—" Baelor continues as if he did not hear Maekar. "You can move out once you are twenty, if you wish to."

"Or I could just move out now," Maekar hisses.

Baelor glances at him, eyes full of sympathy and understanding. "I will not restrain you, Maekar. Not in any way. You have complete freedom; I only wish for you to be careful and responsible, nothing else. Moreover, I'm barely home for long other than weekends. You won't even see me."

"I could just stay in the dorms!" Maekar complains, and Baelor chuckles.

"You would despise the dorms, Maekar."

"You don't know that!" Maekar exclaims, and Baelor laughs again, eyes crinkling and his crow's feet becoming prominent.

"I am well aware that we never spent much time together as you were growing up, and I am sorry about that, Maekar; I truly am," Baelor says, sincerity dripping from his voice. "But I at least know you well enough that sharing a small, dull room with a stranger is not something you would enjoy. You will be comfortable with me, Maekar; I will take care of you."

Maekar chews on his bottom lip and averts his eyes once more. "Whatever," he mutters. No more words are shared between them for the rest of the drive.

Baelor's flat is large and spacious enough that if Maekar keeps to one corner of the place, he might even be able to pretend that he lives alone. It is also plain, and dull, and boring.

Maekar does not know much about his oldest brother. Growing up, Baelor was never around, too old to entertain a brother twenty years younger, and too busy arranging his own life. Still, Baelor's room in their house is practical yet filled with things he likes — or liked once, at least — and their mother has always put such emphasis on decoration.

So seeing his place be so lifeless is disappointing.

Maekar wonders if it's Jena who prefers the minimalist style, but she doesn't even live with Baelor, and even if she did, Maekar has met Baelor's girlfriend a few times, and he doubts she likes the plain architecture of Baelor's flat.

"It's rather plain here," Baelor says as he watches Maekar's eyes travel through the place. "I haven't had the time to decorate."

Or so he says, but as far as Maekar knows, Baelor has been living in his flat for well over three years. Maybe Baelor was not fibbing about being barely home, after all.

"Which room shall be mine?" Maekar asks, and Baelor leads him to what apparently is a guest room. The room is empty as guest rooms usually are, but Maekar doubts Baelor's own bedroom looks much different, considering the rest of the place.

"I really hope you'll be comfortable here, Maekar," Baelor says, but when Maekar doesn't respond, he takes the hint and leaves the room. Maekar locks the room and sets his luggage down. He sucks in a long breath and exhales deeply, trying to relax, but ultimately failing.

He shoves the curtains apart and opens the windows to let some air and light into the room before sitting on the edge of his bed. It's not a terrible room – spacious enough that Maekar knows he can decorate it as he likes. He doesn't plan on leaving the room often, so he'd like to make it feel as much like home as possible.

But first, Maekar showers. The day has been long, and the journey was exhausting. All Maekar wants to do now is freshen up and rest.

His bathroom has a tub, and the sight of it makes him want to sink into a relaxing soak, but he knows he'll fall asleep if he does, and cannot afford to get sick so close to his first class.

He settles for a quick shower instead, and changes into loose, comfortable clothes. He dries his long hair, and falls into the soft bed, eyes closing and sleep overtaking him almost immediately.

Maekar only gets up when the knocking on his door forcefully drags him out of sleep. He sits up on the bed with an annoyed groan and rubs his face furiously. Another knock, and he huffs, getting off the bed.

"I'm coming," he grumbles, and pulls the door open. "What?"

Baelor's eyebrows jump to his hairline at the annoyance in Maekar's tone, but he only gives Maekar an easy smile and says, "Come out for dinner."

"Not hungry," Maekar states and tries to close the door again, but Baelor places a flat palm on the wood and holds him off.

"You will eat," Baelor says, some firmness bleeding into his voice.

Maekar bristles. His eyes widen and flash in anger. "Oh, and here I thought I had freedom."

"You do, Maekar," Baelor sighs. "But you already skipped lunch, and I understand that you are tired. That's why I didn't wake you up, but you can't miss all your meals. It will render you weak. You will miss a lot of your meals when your classes start in full swing, and will thoroughly miss food then, so come out and eat. It doesn't have to be much. After that, you are free to return to your room."

There is a stubborn resolution on Baelor's face, and Maekar knows his older brother is ready to argue more if Maekar keeps denying dinner, and any other time, Maekar would argue right back, but right now he's tired, and would like to get it over with quickly.

Maekar clicks his tongue, and says, "Alright, move. Let me out."

The stubborn lines of Baelor's face soften once again, and he steps back. They move to the dining table, and Maekar finds the food already prepared.

He eyes the food — steak with mashed potato and some roasted asparagus — and asks, "Did you make this?"

"Yes, I did," Baelor replies. "Would you like some wine?"

"I–yes, thank you," Maekar mumbles, still eyeing the food with some suspicion. "I did not know you cooked."

Baelor chuckles. "I have to keep myself fed somehow."

Maekar hums and pulls a chair back, getting comfortable on it. "I assumed you had a personal chef, as we did at home."

"I do not like strangers invading my personal space," Baelor tells him, also sitting down after pouring wine for both of them. "The cleaning staff is as much as I can handle."

Slight amusement fills Maekar, though he does not let it show on his face. "Yet, you are letting me live in your home."

Baelor frowns. "You are not a stranger, Maekar." Maekar rolls his eyes.

"I might as well be." He does not mean the words as some sort of insult or as a means to hurt Baelor, but his brother looks hurt all the same.

He clears his throat and tells him, with a truly painful amount of sincerity, "Well, I would like that to change, now that you are here."

Maekar sits with the words, and mulls over them. He is sure that Baelor means them when he says it; he really would like them to grow close, as real brothers are, but he doubts that will ever be possible. There is little common ground to be found between people two decades apart in age, and even if they manage to overcome that, Maekar can already see how much of a workaholic Baelor is.

The man who cannot find the time to make the place he lives in a home after three whole years will barely be able to find time to indulge his teenage younger brother.

But Maekar does not wish to argue about the matter, or discuss it any further at all, so he nods, just once, and delves into his food. Begrudgingly, he notices that the food is more than decent. He does not offer Baelor any compliments, but he does not complain either, and that should be enough.

After Maekar finishes his wine, he is about to return to his room again when Baelor tells him, "Call Mother before you sleep, will you? She had called earlier, and wished to speak to you."

Maekar releases a quiet breath that is not quite a sigh, and goes to his room. He closes the door behind him and wraps the blanket around him before he calls his mother. She picks up by the third ring.

"Mae, my son. Are you alright?" she asks.

"Hello, Mother. Yes, I am alright. Sorry for missing your call earlier. I was tired and fell asleep."

"Don't worry about that, little swan," she reassures him. "Are you comfortable there? I have never been to Baelor's flat. Is it to your liking?"

Why does that even matter? Maekar wishes to ask, but he knows his mother is only asking because she worries.

"It's okay. Dull, like your son is," Maekar replies.

"Maekar!" she chides, though he can tell that her heart is not quite in it. "Don't speak as such about your older brother."

Maekar huffs out a laugh. "I only say the truth. Your son is a workaholic, Mother. His flat looks unlived, as if he is barely there."

"Well, maybe you can add the touches of a living being now that you are there," she suggests.

"I will do no such thing," Maekar grumbles. "Baelor is a man grown, and he can take care of himself."

"You are quite right about that," she murmurs, but then her voice gains her usual strength again as she asks, "Have you met Jena?"

"I have not," Maekar replies. "But I reckon I will soon. Baelor mentioned being home often during the weekends, so I gathered that is when she visits, too."

Mother sighs on the other side of the call, "I wish they'd get married already. Your brother is making his elderly parents wait like such."

"Yes, how terrible of him," Maekar rolls his eyes. "You guys are not elderly. While I do understand why you both attempt to hide the matter, do not forget that you both had Baelor dreadfully young."

"Oh hush! You grow more insolent every day, boy. We are at fault here, your Father and I; we have pampered you too much."

Maekar laughs under his breath at the exasperation in Myriah's voice. "I apologise, Mother," he says, grinning. "I forgot myself."

"Yes, you did," she states. "However, I shall forgive you; you must be tired after all."

"Uh huh, so tremendously tired."

"Sleep, child. Call your old Mother often. All of you have left the nest now, and your Mother is all alone."

Maekar smiles sadly, even if his mother can't see it. "I will visit often, Mother. As often as I can," he promises. "In the meantime, do take care of yourself, and tell Father to take care of his health."

"Yes, I shall, my little swan. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother."

The call ends, and Maekar puts his phone away. Despite being upset at their decision to saddle him with Baelor, Maekar cannot deny that he misses his parents. He appreciates being given the opportunity to be away from home and being able to enjoy his independence, but he is also looking forward to returning home during his break.

The thought makes him shake his head in slight disappointment towards himself. His classes haven't even started yet, and he is already thinking about his break. He supposes it will take him some time to get used to being away from home.

He doesn't stay away long enough to ponder the matter much more. The warmth and the weight of the blanket are already dragging him back to sleep, and Maekar lets his head fall on the pillow, eyes closing once again.

The next day, he wakes with the alarm, early enough that the sun hasn't brightened the sky fully yet. He pushes the blanket off himself and stumbles off the bed to freshen up. He changes into his running clothes and walks out of the room.

The flat is quiet and empty, so either Baelor has already left, or he is still sleeping. Maekar does not care to know. He fills his water bottle and puts his shoes on by the door before silently slipping out of the flat.

Maekar isn't familiar with the area, so he only goes to the nearest park and laps the park several times before returning home. When he opens the door and gets in, he finds Baelor in the kitchen. Baelor turns at the sound of the door and locks eyes with Maekar.

He glances down for a moment before his eyes snap up again. "Running?" he asks.

"Yes, I–yes," Maekar replies.

"Alright, I'm making breakfast, and should I make some coffee for you, too?" Baelor asks him, and Maekar nods before he returns to the bedroom.

Baelor looks much more relaxed now, his clothes loose and hanging off his body, curls mussed up from sleep. Instead of the stoic and "perfect" older brother, he looks more like a normal person, and Maekar might prefer this version of him.

He showers but doesn't dry his hair before he walks to the dining table.

"Your classes start…in two days, right?" Baelor asks while they're both eating.

"Yeah, the orientation is tomorrow, but I'm not going," Maekar replies.

"It's not bad to attend. It can be helpful to know people in a more relaxed environment; it'll help you make friends," Baelor advises.

"I don't plan on making friends," Maekar grouses, and Baelor snickers under his breath.

"Well, it's up to you how you wish to spend your uni years."

"Making friends isn't really my forte," Maekar tells Baelor. "And I prefer it this way. Most people are so mind numbingly moronic. It only aggravates me."

"How about your fencing classes?" Baelor questions. "I'd think having people with similar interests around you would make it easier to befriend them."

"When I saw mind numbingly moronic, understand that I am putting athletes at the top of the list," Maekar voices, and Baelor breaks into a booming laugh. Maekar flushes slightly at the sight, the corners of his mouth tugging, and he is quick to take a sip of his coffee to hide it.

"Whatever suits you," Baelor says, still chuckling. "I will need to head out in a bit, so for lunch, you'll probably have to order takeout or eat out. I don't think you will cook, will you?"

"Banish these foolish thoughts from your mind, brother."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Baelor smiles. "There are great restaurants around. You can always just walk around and find a place that you like. You can get familiar with the area like that."

"I'll see if I feel up to it," is all that Maekar says.

Later, Maekar is in his room when Baelor knocks on his door before opening it slightly. He doesn't enter, only says, "I'm leaving now. See you tonight."

"Yes, goodbye," Maekar mumbles, absentmindedly, as all his focus is on his book, and the door closes again.

Maekar doesn't go out for lunch. He orders food, and then eats it while watching some ridiculous movie on the TV before returning to his book. He doesn't notice the time passing and the sky darkening, not until there's another knock on his door.

"Yes, come in," he says, and Baelor opens the door.

"I'm home," Baelor says with the half smile, and Maekar blinks at him.

"Uh, yes. Welcome home," he mutters awkwardly. "You look exhausted."

All the softness Baelor held in the morning is gone, and it is now replaced by the sharp lines of his suit, the hollowness under his eyes, and the sickly grey hue set on his golden skin.

"Just work," Baelor dismisses his concerns. "I simply wanted to ask if there is something specific you wanted for dinner."

Maekar frowns and stares at Baelor for a moment longer. "No, anything is fine," he replies in the end, and Baelor nods once before closing the door and leaving.

Maekar marks his book and closes it, but doesn't step out of the room yet. He wouldn't know what to do out there anyway. He will be of no help in the kitchen, and will certainly be more of a nuisance to Baelor.

So he sits there and waits for Baelor to call him again.

It takes longer than Maekar thought he would, but Baelor calls his name loudly enough that it can be heard from outside, and Maekar is careful not to rush.

Dinner is nothing special — some pasta with garlic bread along with some wine — but so much better than Maekar expected from Baelor. It makes him wonder where his older brother might have learnt to cook. Certainly not from anyone in their family; Maekar doubts anyone there knows.

Did he feel the necessity and teach himself?

It makes him think of all the failures Baelor might have had to suffer through while learning. All the times he burnt the food, added too much salt, didn't add enough salt. Maekar feels the strangest urge to perceive Baelor in such a setting.

But Maekar is too late for that. Baelor probably taught himself to cook in his twenties, and Maekar was but a babe then, unaware that he even had a brother named Baelor.

He finishes his food quietly before returning to bed. Maekar is with his book again when he hears a quiet "Goodnight, Maekar" from outside his door before he hears receding footsteps.

Long after Baelor is gone, Maekar mumbles, "Goodnight, Baelor."

It doesn't take Maekar much to realise that Baelor's life doesn't contain much else other than his work. Perhaps, during his weekends, he goes out to pubs with friends, or dates with Jena — though the latter might be because Jena is not in the country at the moment — but the two days that Maekar is home, all he sees Baelor do is work.

On the second day, he realises that his work does not end with him returning home. Even after dinner, Baelor starts working again until Seven knows how long. Baelor's schedule — or rather, the lack of a proper one — is utterly ridiculous to Maekar.

He always presumed that a man like Baelor would be more disciplined.

But what Baelor does with his life is none of Maekar's business; they're not nearly close enough for Maekar to comment on such things, and Maekar is sure he has people there to help him if he truly needs such a thing, so Maekar observes and keeps his observations to himself.

He has more important things to deal with anyway.

Such as his first day of university.

On the morning of his first day, he wakes earlier than he meant to, but his growing anxiety wouldn't let him sleep longer. He goes out for a run that lasts longer than it should have and returns home a few minutes late. He takes his breakfast to his room and eats while scrolling through his phone before he takes a shower and starts getting ready.

He puts on some light makeup, and barely resists the urge to cover up all the pox scars on his face.

He keeps his clothes casual — a simple pair of jeans, a long sleeved t-shit cropped at the end, and a leather jacket over it — before packing his bag. He checks if he's packed his laptop and his notebook and pens several times before he feels a throb of pain behind his eyes.

Maekar sits on the bed and closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to feel too jittery.

"Maekar, are you ready?" Baelor asks from outside, and Maekar takes a deep, shuddering breath.

He rises from the bed and opens the door, stepping out.

"You look nice," Baelor compliments when he sees Maekar, and Maekar averts his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispers. Baelor looks like it too, more like a professor in his light shirt and slacks than the businessman he looked like the other day.

"Nervous?" Baelor asks him while they're walking to his car, and Maekar presses his lips tightly. He did not want his brother to notice.

"First days are strange," Maekar confesses.

"They are," Baelor agrees. "But you will do fine, Maekar. You will find your footing easily enough, I'm sure."

"Gods, I hope so," Maekar sighs. They both get into the car, and Baelor starts driving. "You did not have to drop me off, you know?"

"And pray tell, how would you reach your uni then?" Baelor asks; there's laughter in his voice but no mockery. "On the bus? Or would you take the Tube?"

"Shut up," Maekar scoffs. "Father will arrange a car for me if I ask."

"Do you have a license?"

"And a driver," Maekar snaps, and Baelor grins for a second, but it is gone as quickly as it arrives.

"I'm sure he would, but I don't mind dropping you off, especially considering we are going to the same place," Baelor tells him. "This is nice, is it not?"

"Sure." Maekar rolls his eyes, and Baelor smiles again, a smaller one this time.

The drive is easy, and thankfully, they do not get stuck in traffic, so neither of them is delayed. Baelor parks the car, and just as he is about to get out, his brother says, "I'll see you later."

With one foot already outside the car, Maekar turns his head. "Yeah, see you later. I'll ring you once I am done with my classes."

"I'll take you home if I am done with work, but if I am not, I'll call a cab for you. You wouldn't mind, would you?" Baelor asks him, as if it can be helped regardless of whether Maekar minded or not.

"No, it's fine," he says, and gets out of the car. Closing the door, he walks straight towards the entrance and does not look back at the car again to see if Baelor is following or not.

Maekar finds his class relatively fast and takes a seat in one of the corners at the back. People start trickling in, but Maekar keeps his earbuds on and doesn't talk to anyone. His hair falls over his face, hiding his expression, and thankfully, people take the hint and do not approach him.

The first class ends smoothly enough, and even though Maekar wasn't paying much attention, he didn't have much difficulty keeping up since it was an introductory class, after all.

The second class is much more boring than the first, and Maekar stays awake with great difficulty. Looking around, he can tell that he is not the only one having trouble paying attention. Maekar tunes the professor out and lets the hour slip past him. He barely notices when people around him start leaving the room.

Maekar still has an hour to his next class, so he takes himself to the cafeteria to look for something edible there. After that dull, yawnfest of a class, Maekar needs some sustenance. Maekar buys a granola bar and a cup of mediocre coffee and sits at one of the corner tables in the cafeteria to finish his food.

After he's done eating, Maekar walks to his class, fingers twisting in signs of nervousness that he refuses to show on his face, and once again sits at the very back, subconsciously hoping to hide himself among the other students.

Still, when Baelor enters, his eyes land directly on Maekar almost immediately. Maekar looks away quickly, staring at his notebook with unfocused eyes as Baelor introduces himself. Maekar barely looks at his brother the whole time, and thankfully, Baelor doesn't address him even once.

After class, Maekar walks around the campus for a bit before deciding that he wants to go back to the flat. He rings Baelor, as he said he would, and Baelor picks up quickly.

"Are you done with work?" Maekar asks. "I would like to go back."

"Yes, I uh—" Baelor stutters. "Give me ten minutes. I'll see you at the car park."

"Okay. Ten minutes," Maekar says before hanging up the call.

He takes his time walking to the car park, but Baelor is still not there, so Maekar leans against the car and scrolls through his phone while he waits for his brother to arrive.

"Sorry, I'm late," Baelor says as he rushes to the car. "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

"It's fine," Maekar tells Baelor, and gets into the car when his brother unlocks it.

"Did you have a good day?" Baelor asks him while driving. "Did you make any friends?"

Maekar rolls his eyes. "Stop talking to me as if it were my first day in preschool."

Baelor chuckles. "That's not how I meant it. I'm being sincere in my questions. I simply don't want you to feel alone."

"I'm good," Maekar deadpans. "Also, it was only the first day. I can take my time, can I not?"

"Yes, of course," Baelor assures him. "How about the classes? What do you think about them?"

Maekar hums, "Well, Ms. Samson's class was fine. Simple. But Mr. Morris has a special ability to drive people to sleep every time he opens his mouth, and I think that is quite an unfortunate ability to have as a professor."

Baelor's lips twitch, but he doesn't quite smile. "He is a very qualified man, and you can learn much from him."

"Sure, if I manage to stay awake through his classes," Maekar says with false assurance in his voice.

Baelor shakes his head slightly. "And how about mine? Did you enjoy that? Or did I bore you to sleep as well?"

"This is what you wanted to ask all along, didn't you?" Maekar narrows his eyes at Baelor. "Fishing for compliments, brother?"

"Was it worthy of a compliment then?" Baelor pushes, and Maekar scoffs.

He crosses his arms over his chest and turns the other way. "It was fine."

"I shall take it as a compliment," Baelor says, a smile obvious in his voice.

"It wasn't!" Maekar snaps.

"I shall take it as one anyway."

Maekar's face reddens, but he doesn't want Baelor to see that, so he settles for glaring out of the window instead of strangling his annoying brother. Baelor, undoubtedly, finds great amusement in this.

"Freshen up; I'll make dinner," Baelor says while Maekar is rushing to his room. He takes a long shower to wash away the day's exhaustion and then dries his hair as he thinks back to the day. All things considered, Maekar would say that his day went perfectly well. He was nervous over nothing.

And about making friends, Maekar still has no desire to do anything of such a thing, so if Baelor brings it up again, Maekar fully plans to tell him to keep his worries to himself.

He leaves the room before Baelor calls for him and finds his brother still in the kitchen.

"I'm almost done," Baelor says, not turning around, and Maekar hums.

Maekar isn't particularly proud of it, but he stares.

All his life, he has only seen glimpses of Baelor when he visited their parents, and he was always there in his pressed clothes and straight back, acting like the dutiful son that he is. It is so wildly different from the picture he presents here.

Here, Baelor is comfortable and doing something that he seems to enjoy.

His shoulders are relaxed, and he leans a little on his right side as he stands. His hair is still wet, and there are water drops falling on his shirt and wetting it. Maekar feels mesmerised.

"Can you take the plates to the table?" Baelor asks, breaking him out of his reverie. He clears his throat and takes the plates to the table as Baelor asked him to. He looks at the food on the plate and notices that it is pasta again, but not the same as last time's.

Instead, it's a tomato pesto pasta. Maekar's favourite.

"How did you know that I like this?" Maekar bluntly asks, and Baelor's expression turns a little sheepish.

"I might have…asked Mother," Baelor confesses.

"You could have simply asked me," Maekar frowns. "I do not appreciate you talking about me behind my back."

Baelor's eyes widen slightly. "I wasn't talking about you behind your back, Maekar. I only asked her about this, and nothing else, I swear. I could not have simply asked you, since it was a surprise."

"Whatever for?" Maekar asks in confusion.

"To celebrate your first day," Baelor says as if the answer should be obvious to Maekar.

"It's only uni, Baelor. Hardly anything that requires any sort of celebration," Maekar huffs in exasperation.

Baelor shrugs. "Well, I disagree. You have started a new chapter of your life, and you are a proper adult now. In my opinion, it surely calls for a celebration. And it's only dinner, nothing special anyway."

"Well," Maekar starts awkwardly, and presses his lips together tightly. "Thank you, I suppose."

Baelor smiles, wide and toothy, flashing his slightly uneven teeth and his fangs. "You're welcome."

After dinner, right before Baelor is about to go to his room, Maekar asks, "Baelor, I—if I wished to, I could order things here, right. Furniture. I know you said that you did not like strangers invading your space but—"

"Yes, it is alright," Baelor says, cutting him off gently. "Can I know what you'd be ordering?"

"A vanity, for my room," Maekar replies.

Baelor nods. "Would you like my card?"

"No, it's fine. Father has already provided me with one," Maekar says.

"Alright, anything else?"

When Maekar shakes his head, Baelor leaves, and Maekar goes to his own room. He stays up much longer than he should have, reading his book, and when he sleeps, he dreams of warm smiles and a gentle voice.

They fall into an easy and simple routine that works perfectly well for them both, and Maekar gets used to having Baelor around. Baelor isn't in the flat for long on weekdays, always either at the university or the company, and even when Maekar is home, he only sees his brother during dinner.

And contrary to what he earlier assumed about him going out during weekends or having Jena over, Baelor spends his off days sleeping and recharging from the week's exhaustion, or working some more.

Maekar, despite being concerned about his brother's well being, still doesn't think it's his place to bring it up with him; neither does he talk about it with Mother when on call. He keeps his worries to himself and tells himself that perhaps Baelor is used to this; maybe he likes living like this. Though the last thought seems absolutely ludicrous to Maekar.

Maekar tries to take his mind off Baelor by occupying his time with other things, like signing up for the fencing club in his uni and ordering things he wants for his room.

He is home alone when the vanity gets delivered, but when Maekar opens the box, he finds the thing in pieces, clearly something that he is meant to arrange on his own.

An impossible task, considering Maekar has never done anything like this before.

He stares at the thing sitting in the living room, half in despair and half in panic, and before Maekar can decide to simply chuck the thing out of the window, Baelor returns.

Baelor's steps slow as he enters the room and takes in the sight in front of him: Maekar standing in the middle of the living room, adorning the expression of absolute trepidation, with a dismantled vanity lying at his feet.

Carefully, he says, "Is that the vanity you ordered?"

"Yes," Maekar's voice comes out higher than usual. "But it's—why is it like this? I thought they'd—why do I have to make it?"

"Ah, I see," Baelor whispers and places his briefcase on the sofa. "If you want it already assembled, you have to pick the option and pay extra for that."

"That's stupid," Maekar states. "Why would I not want it assembled when I paid for the damn thing?"

Baelor shrugs. "Some people like to do it themselves."

"Lunatics, clearly," Maekar mutters under his breath. "Whatever shall I do with this now?"

"Well, you can return it and ask for an assembled one instead," Baelor tells him. "Or, we could assemble it ourselves. I'm sure it came with an instruction manual."

Maekar blinks at Baelor. "You–you wanna assemble this with me? The two of us. On our own?"

"Yeah," Baelor nods. "How hard can it be? Let me change, and then we can go through the manual together."

"Su…re," Maekar says slowly, slight confusion and doubt clinging to his voice, but Baelor doesn't seem to mind. Maekar waits in the living room, leaning against the sofa while Baelor changes with the manual in his hand.

He reads through it, and the instructions seem easy enough in some parts, but in others, absolutely nothing makes sense. When Baelor returns, Maekar is about to hand his brother the manual, but Baelor simply leans into Maekar's space to read it.

Maekar stiffens, but doesn't move away from his brother.

"Doesn't look that difficult," Baelor says directly beside Maekar's ear, and he swallows heavily.

"Have you–" his voice catches embarrassingly, but he quickly talks over it. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No," Baelor replies. "It can be a first for us both. It'll be fun, I'm sure."

It takes them both about an hour to realise that it is not, in fact, fun.

"I'm sure this screw is about to go here," Baelor says, failing to fit said screw.

"Clearly not," Maekar grits. "We better not be missing any parts."

"I'm sure we are not, Maekar," Baelor tells him, but Maekar does not give two damns about his assurances when all of it has been proven false.

"Let's just give up," Maekar mutters tiredly.

"No, we can't give up! Not after all the effort we have put into it," Baelor exclaims, and Maekar throws his hands up in frustration.

"The vanity looks like Frankenstein's monster, Baelor. All our effort has been for naught. I'll call the company and ask them to send someone for assistance," Maekar declares.

"C'mon, Maekar, we cannot simply accept defeat," Baelor tells him, looking at him with his large earnest eyes. "We are Targaryens. We cannot lose to…furniture."

"Brother, are you serious? You are, oh Gods. Seven give me patience, is it truly a matter of pride for you? This?" Maekar questions, waving his hands towards the pieces of the vanity incredulously.

"What if it is?" Baelor huffs, slight petulance creeping its way into his voice, and Maekar can only stare in disbelief. "C'mon, brother, indulge me. Just an hour longer."

"This is insane. You are insane," Maekar murmurs, but he still does it; he indulges his brother. Gods help him.

In the end, they do manage to assemble the thing, as unbelievable as it sounds. Maekar stares at the blasted thing and feels some semblance of pride, but he refuses to show such emotions in front of his brother. Baelor looks smug enough.

"Now all that's left is for us to carry it to your room," Baelor says, and Maekar glances at him from the corner of his eye.

"Leave it, I can do that myself. Give your old bones some rest."

Baelor's forehead creases, and he looks at Maekar in pure offence. "Old bones!"

"What else shall I call them?" Maekar questions, voice trembling with laughter. "You are quite old, aren't you, brother? People your age are usually called middle aged, I'm sure you know that. You're already done with half your life."

Baelor scoffs, shaking his head. "You brat," he murmurs, and before Maekar can even blink, he snaps forward and grabs Maekar's wrist. Maekar can't even think to resist before Baelor tugs him close and pushes him to sit on the vanity. "I will show you old bones."

Maekar's eyes go wide as Baelor steps close to him and reaches out. He turns to stone as Baelor picks the furniture up with Maekar sitting right on top of it. He gapes and gasps slightly as Baelor starts walking, and though Maekar can see the strain the weight causes on Baelor's body, he still takes the thing and him to Maekar's room.

"You will feel it tomorrow," Maekar whispers, winded.

"Maybe," Baelor retorts. "But I had a point to prove, and I feel like I proved it."

With trembling hands, Maekar pushes at Baelor's chest and hops off the vanity. "I'm hungry. When are you going to make dinner?"

Baelor's eyes flash with amusement, but he lets Maekar change the subject. "Let's just order something tonight. I think I've tired myself out."

"Sure," Maekar shrugs, eyes on Baelor's shoulders. "I had Chinese the other day, and it was pretty good."

"Then we'll get that again. You can order, right? Just get two of whatever you are getting," Baelor instructs, and Maekar takes his phone out of his pocket. He doesn't look up as Baelor silently leaves the room, but only when Baelor closes the door behind him does Maekar start properly breathing.

Fuck.

What the fuck was that?

Trying to figure out what he's feeling makes his head hurt, so Maekar does what he always does when emotions become too complicated for him. He shoves them down so deep into his mind that he doesn't have to acknowledge and process them at all.

They sit on the sofa while eating, a movie that Baelor likes playing on the TV. Maekar barely pays any attention to it, and catches only a few snippets of it. He swirls his chopsticks in the noodles and takes a bite of it, careful not to look at Baelor at all.

But Baelor, of course, makes it impossible to ignore him.

"Your hair is getting into your food," he says, reaching out and tucking a lock behind his ear. When Maekar jerks back, Baelor snatches his hand back. "Ah, sorry."

"No, it's—" Maekar pushes his hair back. "I should have braided my hair. I'm just not used to doing it on my own."

"I could do it for you," Baelor offers, and Maekar looks at his brother in mild surprise.

"You know how to braid hair?" he asks.

"I do, yes."

"Who taught you? Jena?" Maekar asks, and something passes over Baelor's face as soon as her name leaves his mouth, but it's gone too quickly for Maekar to decipher.

"No," Baelor replies. "Mother taught me. When I was much younger, but I still remember." When Maekar doesn't reply immediately, Baelor assures him, "You can decline, Maekar. I will take no offence."

"No, it's alright. Maybe after dinner." He curses himself for agreeing to it, but he is too curious for his own good. He wants to know what it's like to be tended by Baelor.

Baelor looks relieved at the answer. "Yes, that sounds fine."

After they are done eating and have discarded the empty containers, Maekar brings his comb and hair ties to Baelor. He sits back on the sofa and turns his back to Baelor. Behind him, he can hear Baelor scooting closer until Maekar can feel his warmth on his face.

The first touch is careful and hesitant, but Baelor gains confidence soon enough. He pulls Maekar's hair back and starts combing through it. He smooths out the few tangles he has until his hair falls like silk across his back.

"Your hair is so beautiful," Baelor says so quietly Maekar doesn't think he was meant to hear it at all, so he doesn't respond.

Baelor is as gentle as Maekar expected him to be. He sections his hair carefully and starts braiding it without even pulling on any strand harshly, even by mistake. He takes his time, and Maekar sits there patiently, not saying a word. Barely even breathing.

When he reaches the bottom, Baelor asks for the hair tie, and their fingers brush when Maekar hands it to him. He twists his fingers together in his lap while Baelor secures the braid, and lets go of his hair. Maekar tells himself that he has simply missed the intimacy of it that he previously shared with his mother, and he almost believes himself.

He rises to his feet quickly. "Thank you, Baelor. I'm tired. I should…I'd like to go to sleep."

"Yes, goodnight, Maekar."

Maekar is rushing to his room before Baelor can even finish his words.

He tells himself that he is overthinking a caring gesture by his brother, and he's feeling strangely regarding it only because he is still mostly unfamiliar with Baelor and his affections. He tells it to himself that until he falls asleep, and the next morning, he convinces himself that he believes those words.

The next few days pass without Maekar seeing much of Baelor, as it seems that his workload has somehow tripled overnight. The only times he does see Baelor are during classes, but it's not as if they talk then, as they have both wordlessly decided not to announce their connection.

Though that doesn't stop people from finding out.

"Are you really Professor Targaryen's brother?" one of his classmates asks him, and Maekar barely swallows a groan. He only wanted to study in the library. Seems like he has made a mistake.

"I am," he replies, short and clipped enough that anyone with any self respect would have received the message and left him alone, but it seems like this person either does not have any self respect or is plainly an idiot.

"Quite the age gap there, huh?" they murmur.

"Yes," Maekar deadpans.

"So," they drag the word out. "What's he like? He seems so nice in class, but stern, too." The words are filled with awe, and when he looks up and notices the moon eyed expression on the person's face, all he wants to do is stab his pen in their hand.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Maekar grits instead. "Also, I'm trying to study here, so if you'd just leave me alone…"

The person scowls at him. "I'm just making conversation, dude."

"One that I am unwilling to participate in," Maekar retorts, voice sharp. "If you have questions about my brother, ask him yourself. Otherwise, see yourself out."

They huff, and the chair scrapes as they rise, drawing eyes from all around to their table, only annoying Maekar further.

"Haughty bitch. This is why no one likes you," they spit.

"Oh, the despair," Maekar says in a completely flat voice, and sees his classmate flush with anger. They leave Maekar quickly after that, and at least that's a relief. He lets out a sigh and returns to his studies, distracting himself from both the interruption and any thoughts of Baelor.

Maekar doesn't realise how long he ends up staying in the library until he receives a text from Baelor, asking if he plans to stay longer. He panics slightly and texts Baelor back, saying he's ready to leave before packing his stuff.

come to my office

Maekar sees the text, but doesn't respond. Instead of making his way to the car park as usual, he walks to Baelor's office. He has never been there, but he still knows where it is. He knocks once before pushing the door open, and finds that Baelor is not alone there.

Fierce red hair, icy blue eyes, freckles, and a warm smile.

Jena.

"Maekar, it has been a while," she says, and Maekar looks at him dumbfounded for a second.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you." Maekar straightens and tries to regain his composure. "How have you been?"

"I've been well," she grins. "What about you? Enjoying uni life?"

Enjoying isn't the word he'd use, but he isn't going to share with Jena, of all people, about how people keep asking him about her boyfriend.

"It's okay," he gives an easy answer. "The classes are easy, but I guess they always are in the first year."

"You're a smart kid; of course, they're easy for you," Jena says to him, and Maekar flushes slightly at the praise.

"How was your trip? How long are you back for?" he asks, genuinely curious about her work. He finds her work as an archaeologist fascinating, and Maekar likes Jena; she is kind, and her kindness isn't a facade that she puts on to get people to like her. She is simply likeable. Every time Baelor visited with Jena, she has been good to him, even as he and Baelor barely ever talked. He understands why their parents push Baelor to propose.

"The trip was okay. Iceland's a beautiful place," she replies. "Though I'm not back for long. A week, at most, and I'm only back for a conference."

"Back to Iceland after that?" Maekar asks her.

She nods. "Probably, yeah, but not for too long. I'll be back for a while as soon as I'm done."

"Are you—" he glances at Baelor, who is looking between him and Jena calculatedly. "Are you coming home with us?"

"No, I'm sorry," Jena replies, apologetic. "I'm going to see my parents. I dropped by to see Baelor and you, but I'll have to go."

She stands from her seat as she says that, and places a brief kiss on Baelor's lips before approaching Maekar. She is a good head shorter than him, but her grip is firm as she pulls him into a hug. It reminds him of mother, and Maekar offers no resistance at all, hugging her back.

"I will see you later, yes?" she says, pulling back from the hug, and Maekar nods.

"I didn't know you two were close," Baelor says once Jena leaves. There's something strange in his voice that Maekar doesn't understand.

"Well, we're not that close. We have each other on our socials. She's just friendly," Maekar explains.

"Yeah, that she is," Baelor mutters, but it doesn't sound like he's complimenting her like Maekar was. "You like her," he says like an observation, and Maekar frowns.

"Who doesn't?" Maekar retorts, but Baelor offers no response to that.

Maekar finds the whole conversation strange, but he doesn't bring it up to Baelor. He doubts Baelor will give him an honest answer anyway. If he and Jena are having problems in their relationship, that's between the two of them.

He puts away all thoughts of Baelor and Jena's relationship and instead focuses on joining the fencing club. He fills out the forms and makes the payment before attending the club room. He changes into his fencing suit and joins the coach in the gym.

"You're good enough to go competitive," the coach tells him as he looks through all of Maekar's records.

"Yeah, but I don't want to," Maekar replies. He wants to work for his family business, just as Baelor does. He is happy with having fencing as something he does as a hobby.

The coach shrugs, accepting his words easily. "You know the drills. Get on with it."

Maekar hasn't had the time to fence properly since his graduation, and the thrill of it leaves him buzzing after he's done with his drills.

"Hey, newbie," someone says from behind him, and Maekar turns to see another fencer standing there. He can't see the man's face, but he is Maekar's height — if a bit shorter — and definitely an Alpha. "You seem pretty good. How about a 1v1?"

Maekar frowns. He just joined, and people are already bothering him? Not that he minds putting some cocky Alpha in his place.

He tilts his head slightly. "An assault or a bout?"

A laugh comes from the Alpha. "Let's keep things friendly. For now."

"Sure," Maekar agrees. He doesn't care either way. He already knows he's going to win.

And he does, but he wouldn't say that his opponent wasn't capable. He made Maekar work for it, though that's the least he could do to not make this a waste of Maekar's time.

Maekar takes his mask off, and some of his hair that he tied in a braid comes loose.

"Oh," he hears the Alpha wheeze, and looks at the man sharply. He is still sitting on the floor where he dropped after his loss, but he has taken his mask off, so Maekar can look at his face freely.

He is handsome enough with his sun kissed skin, dark eyes, and brown curls.

"Well, hello. Aren't you quite the beauty?"

And a terrible personality, it seems. Figures, a person can't have it all.

Maekar rolls his eyes and turns his face away. He makes his way to where he kept his water bottle and takes a few large gulps, hoping the Alpha would leave him alone, but everyone here seems to be incapable of doing that.

"I'm Lyonel Baratheon, if you were curious," the Alpha introduces himself.

"I wasn't," Maekar states.

Instead of getting offended, Lyonel grins. "You're Maekar Targaryen, right? I've heard about you."

Maekar frowns and looks at the Alpha once more. "Are you in my class?"

The Alpha looks amused at the question. "No," he replies. "I'm in my third year, but word goes around. Do you not know? What do they call you?"

All Maekar has heard till now is 'haughty bitch' from that one classmate, so if there's anything else, then Maekar is unaware.

Seeing the confusion on Maekar's face, Lyonel fills him in, "They call you the Ice Queen. Both because you're pretty and because of your ice cold personality."

Maekar's face twists in annoyance. "That's a horrible nickname. Whoever started this wasn't even trying."

Lyonel grins at him, laughing so brightly that people around them start glancing curiously. "I agree. I think Snow White suits you much more."

"I'm going to throw up," Maekar gags, and leaves a chortling Lyonel behind to go to the locker rooms and change again.

When he steps out, he finds Lyonel leaning against the door, clearly waiting for him, and curses under his breath.

"Fuck off, will you?" he spits at the older man.

"Hey, hey, what's with the hostility? I'm here with noble intentions, I swear," Lyonel tells him while Maekar keeps his unimpressed stare on him. "I'm here to invite you to a welcome party. For all the newbies."

"No, thanks," Maekar deadpans and tries to walk past him, but Lyonel stops him on his way. "Move unless you want your face broken—"

"Whoa! No, no, my face is my best point, other than my sparkling personality. You can't ruin that," Lyonel sputters, backing away. He looks ready to bolt, so at least his threat is working. "At least, think about it, okay? Might be fun. I'm leaving now, not going to test your patience any more. Bye, pretty!"

Maekar watches with a grimace as Lyonel scampers off, and sighs. The Gods seem determined to throw annoying people at him.

Later, in Baelor's car, he asks Maekar, "So, how was the first day?"

"It was good, except I met this fucking dickhead," Maekar spits angrily, and Baelor lets out a surprised laugh.

"Who has managed to annoy you this much?" Baelor asks. "Though I doubt that's a difficult feat."

"Yes, you do it all the time," Maekar snaps. "But Lyonel somehow managed to be even worse, if you can believe that."

"I don't appreciate him taking my position in your life," Baelor teases.

"Fuck right off," Maekar snarls. "I can't believe I'll have to see him every day."

Baelor frowns then. "Is he really bothering you too much? If so—"

"No, it's nothing I can't handle," Maekar dismisses Baelor. "I'll deal with him on my own; stop worrying so much. You look haggard enough without adding extra stress to yourself."

"Haggard," Baelor repeats the word in disbelief. "You're saying I look haggard?"

"Yes?" Maekar replies, thinking the answer obvious. "Well, not always, I suppose, but often enough. You're always so stressed from work. You look like you're being crushed under a boulder. I do not understand why you insist on teaching on top of all the work at the company."

Baelor goes quiet at that, and just as Maekar starts feeling guilty about his words, he says, "I like teaching. The work at the company… it's my duty. I have to do it, but teaching is something I chose to do, something for myself."

"You're running yourself thin. You never take any breaks," the words spill from Maekar, and refuse to stop. Everything he has kept to himself all this time. "I see you every day. You do nothing but work. You worry about me being alone in uni, but when do you go out with your friends? You work even on weekends like an absolutely insane person. When do you ever take breaks?"

Baelor looks surprised at the words. He glances at Maekar in shock before focusing on the road again. "I…didn't know you noticed."

"It'd be more ridiculous if I didn't," Maekar sighs.

"I—" Baelor grimaces. "I do not think I have a good enough answer for you. Sometimes, I don't notice that I have taken up too much work until I'm being crushed under it. But Father is getting old, Maekar, and he will retire soon. Transitioning all his responsibilities to me is a slow and tedious process. I didn't always work this much, and soon enough, my workload will lessen."

"So you say," Maekar grumbles.

"Is it because—" Baelor starts, and frowns. "Is it because I promised to spend more time with you?"

"You didn't make any promises like that."

"I said we'd be like real brothers, and I didn't keep my word. I'm sorry, Maekar, truly—"

And Maekar can't take more of that.

"That's not what this is about," he snaps, and Baelor's mouth shuts with an audible click. "I'm worried about you; that's all there is to it. You don't need to…spend time with me for us to be real brothers. We already are real brothers. I spend more time with you than both our other two brothers combined." Baelor stays silent, seemingly at a loss for words, and Maekar clicks his tongue. "Forget it."

The rest of the ride is filled with awkward silence, and it reminds him of the day Baelor first brought Maekar to his place.

The next few days are spent with them side stepping around each other, and it annoys Maekar to no end. It also leaves him caging himself in his room just so he doesn't have to tolerate Baelor being incredibly strange around him.

If Maekar knew that this was how his brother would act, he would never have talked to him about this. But he has already made his mistake, and so he must suffer the consequences for it.

One would think he would find some peace at his university, away from Baelor, but alas, there is Lyonel Baratheon, who has made it his life's mission to make Maekar regret every second that passes without him wringing the Alpha's neck.

When he said so to the Alpha, the only response he got was, "That's kinda sexy, not gonna lie. I'll be down to try."

Ugh.

"If I go to your stupid party, will you leave me alone?" Maekar asks, fed up with Lyonel and his booming voice.

The Alpha beams at him, and the fact that the man is incredibly handsome does nothing to improve his mood. "Yes," he nods rapidly. "Yes, I will!"

"Fine, I'll go," Maekar concedes.

Lyonel grins. "I'll send you the address then. Don't worry, I already have your number."

"What the fu—how do you have my number?" Maekar snarls.

"I have my ways, darling."

"Do not call me—" but Lyonel is gone before Maekar can even finish the sentence.

[location]

seeya! <3

"I'm going out tonight," Maekar informs Baelor in the car. "A welcoming party from the seniors in the fencing club."

"I see. Will you be late?" Baelor asks. "Should I drop you off?"

"No, it's fine. I'll call a cab," Maekar says, and then there's silence again. He sighs, "Listen, if you're upset about what I said the other day, I'm sorry, alright? Can you just stop acting so…weird? Can things please just go back to how they were?"

"Maekar," Baelor sounds hurt as he says his name. "I never meant—" he cuts himself off my exhaling harshly. "I apologise for the last few days. I have not been myself. I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right. I've been working a lot lately, and it isn't healthy for me. I will try better to manage it, and–and I know you said to me that we are already real brothers, but I would still like for us to bond. Instead of just staying at home all the time, on weekends I might show you around the city. Would you like that?"

Baelor is hopeless, with his endless sincerity and bleeding heart. "Yes, I would like that, brother."

Baelor's answering smile is filled with relief, and Maekar feels something in the air between them loosen.

After dinner, Maekar dresses up for the party because regardless of how reluctantly he's going, he refuses to look anything but his best in front of people.

He wears a pair of dark bootcut jeans with a tight red sparkly shirt unbuttoned to his chest with heeled boots. Maekar puts on some makeup and jewellery, and lets his hair fall freely. He stands in front of the mirror with his purse in hand and looks over himself one last time.

He definitely looks better than a party by Lyonel deserves, but this party doesn't deserve his presence in the first place.

While leaving, he finds Baelor sitting in the living room, and upon hearing Maekar, he lifts his head.

Baelor's eyes travel down to his body before quickly meeting his eyes again, and he smiles. "You look nice," he says, though the words sound a little hollow.

Maekar ignores it, considering he doesn't have the time to change. "I don't know when I might come back, so don't bother waiting up. I'm serious, Baelor."

"Okay, I won't," Baelor promises, but Maekar doesn't quite trust his words. "But do share your location with me." Maekar opens his mouth to argue, but Baelor raises his hands and hurries to say, "I know you are not a child, Maekar. I'm not trying to control you or stifle you, but this is the first time you're going out alone, and you are an Omega. The world is a dangerous place, Maekar. Please, it'll help me sleep through the night."

"This is blatant emotional manipulation!" Maekar spits, but still takes his phone out to start sharing his live location with Baelor. "I will get back at you for this, mark my fucking words."

Baelor, the smug bastard, only grins. "Whatever makes you happy, Maekar."

Maekar shoots one last glare at Baelor before turning to leave.

"Have fun!" his brother says on his way out, but Maekar does not respond.

The address Lyonel sent him is of a mansion. His, Maekar assumes. Though Maekar would not put it past the man to break into some poor sod's home. If Maekar has understood anything about the man in the past few weeks is that he has more audacity than anyone ever ought to.

He enters the mansion and his ears are immediately assaulted by the loud music blaring from the speakers. The place is filled with people, and there is no way on earth that Lyonel only invited the fencing club members. It looks like half the uni is here.

Maekar contemplates turning and leaving when Lyonel's voice calls him out from deep inside the mansion.

"Hey, Snow White!" Lyonel bounds towards him like an excited dog. With Maekar's tall heels, Lyonel stands even shorter than usual and has to properly tilt his head up to talk to him. "You really came."

"And now I'm about to leave," Maekar states. "Don't fucking call me that."

Lyonel only smiles. "C'mon, let's get you a drink to help you unwind a little, princess."

"Fuck right off, Baratheon," he grumbles, but takes the beer Lyonel hands him. He takes a small sip of the thing, but almost gags from how atrocious it is. He shoves the beer bottle back into a laughing Lyonel's hands and groans, "Yeah, you can keep it."

"Doesn't suit the princess's palate, huh?" Lyonel huffs. "It's okay, I'm sure I can find something better for you."

Showing barely any hesitation, Lyonel grabs his wrist and pulls him deeper into the mansion. Maekar lets him because, despite how annoying he is, the Alpha cleans up quite nicely, and Maekar doesn't mind being seen with him as much as he should.

Also, Maekar barely knows anyone here while Lyonel seems to be friends with everyone. At least, staying near Lyonel means he doesn't have to find a corner to stick to.

"Did you invite every single person who has ever stepped onto campus? Why are there so many people here?" Maekar grouses.

Lyonel laughs, "A lot of people bring their friends."

Maekar runs a delicate hand through his hair and flicks the length away from his shoulder, and sees Lyonel's eyes follow the motion. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to be around this many people."

"We can fix that," Lyonel suggests.

"I'm not fucking touching that piss flavoured beer," Maekar grimaces in disgust, and Lyonel chuckles.

"You don't have to. We can always raid the cellar," Lyonel proposes, and despite himself, Maekar feels himself light up at the idea. Seeing his excitement, Lyonel takes him towards the cellar without wasting a single minute. He climbs down the stairs after the Alpha and eyes the collection of wine, rum, brandy, and whisky appreciatively as Lyonel switches the light on.

"You should have brought me here from the beginning," Maekar says and sits on the stool Lyonel drags in for him.

"I had to be a gracious host and give everyone my attention," Lyonel tells him. He takes two glasses out of the shelf and asks, "How do you feel about brandy, princess?"

"Depends on what you have here," Maekar answers. "And are you saying that I deserve that same amount of attention as everyone else here? After you have been pestering me for weeks?"

Lyonel pours the brandy into the snifters and hands one to Maekar. He stands incredibly close to Maekar, almost between his legs, as he says, "Are you saying you hated the attention, princess?"

Maekar takes a sip of the drink and savours the rich taste that coats his tongue. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and watches in delight as Lyonel's eyes darken, and his amber and cardamom scent turns heady with arousal. "I would certainly enjoy it if the attention did not come along with so much aggravation. Think you can tone down the pigtail pulling routine?"

"I can do anything for you, princess," Lyonel promises, voice heated, and Maekar tilts his head up and takes another sip of the drink.

His eyes drop to the untouched drink in Lyonel's hand. "Finish it," he orders, and Lyonel almost drowns the whole thing in one go.

"Shit, shouldn't have done that," Lyonel groans, blinking rapidly, and Maekar throws his back into a laugh.

On the contrary, he takes much longer with his drink, sipping on it languidly, and making Lyonel wait. Lyonel's impatience is palpable, but he doesn't rush Maekar. He busies himself with carefully stroking along the length of Maekar's hair, brushing through it almost gently.

It reminds him of Baelor's hands running through his hair while braiding it, and Maekar is quick to shove that thought away. His heartbeat rises, but he doesn't let it break his composure. He finishes his drink, and just as he takes the last sip, Lyonel takes the snifter from his hand and places it on the counter behind him.

Their hands touch briefly, and Maekar lets the touch linger.

With his other hand, Lyonel grabs his chin and tilts his head up. Maekar's lips part, and their mouths meet in a deep and filthy kiss. Lyonel deepens it immediately, pushing his tongue into Maekar's mouth, and he curls their tongues together, both of them tasting of the cognac.

Heat rises between them; a moan vibrates into the kiss. Belatedly, Maekar realises that it was him who made that sound. Maekar buries his hands into Lyonel's curls and presses his body closer to the Alpha. Lyonel drags him to his feet, and Maekar has to bend his head down to kiss Lyonel then, but he doesn't mind.

The Alpha's touches are greedy on his body, tugging at his clothes and pressing his fingers in wherever he can.

"You're not fucking me in a cellar," Maekar rasps when he feels Lyonel's hands slipping under his shirt.

"Of course not," Lyonel mumbles against his lips. "Only the softest bed for you."

Maekar tilts his head to one side and places another sucking kiss on Lyonel's lips. "So? What are you waiting for?"

They're both equally reluctant to end the kiss, but they have to. Though Lyonel does the smart thing and doesn't waste his time chattering; instead, quickly leads Maekar out of the cellar and to his bedroom.

Maekar barely gets the chance to look around before he's picked up and thrown into the bed.

"Careful," Maekar snaps, but when Lyonel kisses him again, he doesn't bite the Alpha's tongue off. Lyonel's lips trail down to his neck, and Maekar feels the scrape of teeth over the soft skin. He is too lost in pleasure to tell the Alpha not to leave any marks.

They are quick and a little undignified as they take their clothes off, but they are both too desperate to care.

"You're not a virgin, right?" Lyonel asks, eyes stuck between his spread thighs.

Maekar rolls his eyes. "No. Now, will you hurry up? Or maybe I should find someone who won't make me wait."

Lyonel growls from the back of his throat. "So impatient." And grabs his legs to put them over his shoulder.

"You better not forget to use a condom," Maekar gasps before he loses the ability to speak at all for the new few hours.

Maekar wakes up to the sound of an unfamiliar alarm and groans as he covers his head with the blanket. The sound goes out quickly, and he relaxes into the bed again. There is warmth on his back, and something heavy over his shoulder.

Maekar squints his eyes open and stares at the wall across from him. He doesn't recognise it, and when he looks around, he finds that he doesn't recognise the room at all. He sits up slowly, and his hand falls from his waist.

When he looks to his side, he finds Lyonel asleep there.

Right.

They had sex last night.

Maekar looks out of the window and finds the sun high and bright in the sky, and curses inwardly. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and definitely hadn't meant to sleep through the night.

"Ugh, I'm going home," he grouches. "Fuck, where are my clothes?"

"Hmm, stay for breakfast," Lyonel mumbles.

"I can't," Maekar frowns. "I told my brother that I'd be late, not that I wouldn't return home at all. He has a habit of worrying."

Lyonel sits up on the bed and stretches his arms over his head, his bare body all for Maekar to see. He bites his lip, but doesn't look away. Though shame isn't something he feels when Lyonel catches him looking. After all, as Maekar stands there in nothing but his panties, Lyonel stares, too.

"You're already late, so what's a few more hours?"

Lyonel makes a very compelling argument, and as he eyes the marks he left on the Alpha last night, it's hard for Maekar to decline.

By the time he returns home, it is almost noon. Maekar creeps inside the flat soundlessly, but ultimately finds it empty. He can't quite place if he is disappointed or relieved, and then decides that it is yet another thing he will not think about.

Maekar takes a long, relaxing bath and finds something loose to wear. He is still sore in places, and the scrape of cloth over the beard burns where Lyonel has left hurt. He scrounges through the refrigerator and finds leftovers packed for him.

A small, helpless smile blooms on his face as he takes the container out and heats it up in the oven. Maekar doesn't like eating alone, but there's nothing to be done, so he plays a show he has been watching while finishing his food.

After he's done, he retreats to his room to study. He puts his earbuds on and studies until the sun sets and the sky darkens. He only closes his notes when the scent of sandalwood and smoke reaches him, more potent than what is always clinging to the walls.

Baelor is home.

Maekar is about to go greet him when another scent reaches him.

A bergamot and sea salt smell that undoubtedly belongs to Jena. He hesitates a bit before opening his door and poking his head out. He can hear the quiet sound of the two of them talking, and decides to let his presence known.

Baelor sees him first, and his eyes sharpen in a way Maekar hasn't seen before. "I see you're finally home."

His voice is pointed enough that Maekar winces while Jena looks between them carefully.

"You knew where I was," Maekar weakly defends himself. He turns to Jena and offers a thin smile. "Hi, Jena. I thought you'd have left already by now."

"My flight got postponed by a few days," Jena explains and Maekar nods.

"Are you going to have lunch with us?" he asks, and Jena nods.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Jena says, something slightly sour in her tone that Maekar can't understand the reason behind.

Maekar glances at Baelor for barely a second before focusing on Jena again. "Of course, not."

Jena hums. "Were you studying?" she asks, and when Maekar throws her a surprised look, she points out, "There's ink on your hands."

Maekar looks down, and sure enough, there's ink staining his hands. He flushes in embarrassment and mutters, "Yes, I was. I just finished."

"When did you come home?" Baelor asks, voice still sharp, and Maekar frowns.

"Before noon," Maekar replies. An awkward silence sets in the room, which Maekar breaks by clearing his throat. "What are you making for dinner?"

"Oh, are you going to cook, Baelor?" Jena asks, too, something probing in her voice. "It has been so very long since I last ate something you made."

Baelor swallows. "Yeah, sure. Stir fry is fine, right?"

He and Jena both nod, and then Jena suggests, "Come, let us sit. Baelor told me you have joined the fencing club. Tell me about it, will you?"

The two of them sit on the sofa, facing each other, and Maekar shares small, harmless snippets of things that have happened in the club, and Jena listens to him attentively.

"This Lyonel Baratheon appears in a lot of your stories," Jena muses. "A friend of yours?"

Heat rises to Maekar's face, and he takes a little too long to find an appropriate answer. That, in itself, is enough of an answer to Jena.

"I see," she laughs, good natured. "Young love, how sweet."

"It's not—don't—!" he sputters, and Jena laughs harder.

"I know, I know," she giggles. "I'm only teasing. I've lived through your age, Maekar. There's nothing wrong about getting some attention from a handsome Alpha. Who knows? You might even find your love there."

Maekar's face burns so hot he fears it might be melting. He knows that Baelor and Jena met when they were in university, though they were older than he is now.

"I'm never falling for someone as annoying as him," Maekar voices, trying to save his dignity.

Jena's eyes crinkle as her smile widens. "That's true. You shouldn't settle if you're not fully sure about the Alpha, either. A lot of them might seem nice and secure at first, seem perfect, but Alphas are still Alphas at the end of the day, so you should be careful in choosing one for yourself."

There's a sadness in her voice that makes Maekar pause, and with great difficulty, he doesn't look towards the kitchen where Baelor is.

Desperate to change the topic, Maekar blurts out, "Mother—when I talk to her, she often asks about you, so. Um, when you're free, you should ring her. I think she'd like to talk to you."

Gracefully, Jena picks up on his awkward attempt at directing the conversation elsewhere, and says, "Yes, I should do so. It has been quite a while since I have talked to her."

Right then, Baelor calls for them, and their conversation ends there. Dinner is painfully stiff. Maekar is not sure what is going on between Baelor and Jena, but he feels as if he's stranded in the middle of a minefield, and a single wrong step will result in his immediate demise.

He stays absolutely silent throughout the dinner, and doesn't move even after he's done eating. After they're all done eating, Jena leaves almost immediately. Baelor walks her out, but before Maekar can make his escape, Baelor stops him.

"Maekar, wait there," he says, walking closer. He stops only a few steps away from him and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't mind you staying over someone else's, but the least you could do is inform me. This is the exact reason I made you share your location because if I hadn't, I would never know where you were."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Maekar tries to explain. "It's just—I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again."

Baelor lets out a heavy breath and nods. "Alright, but there's something else. I don't appreciate you telling Jena about Mother wanting to talk to her."

What.

Maekar's face twists in bewilderment. "What–what do you mean? Mother did mention Jena to me a few times, and that's why I mentioned it. What's so wrong about it?"

Baelor pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, his face the picture of annoyance, and it makes Maekar clench his fists. It has barely been a day since they resolved their disagreements, and now they're back to arguing again.

But Maekar doesn't want to fight. He's not used to people reprimanding him so. Maekar's eyes drift, looking for a distraction, and he walks past Baelor and makes his way to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Maybe that will help him calm down.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!" Baelor doesn't quite snap, but it's a close thing, and it is only Maekar's furious pride that keeps him from flinching.

"I'm not—" Maekar's voice catches when Baelor grabs his shoulder and turns him around.

"There are things you don't know and don't understand, so when I say that you shouldn't mention our family to Jena, listen to me," Baelor tells him, voice clear and firm.

Maekar's eyes flash with anger, and he does snap, "How was I supposed to know that?! Sure, it's really fucking obvious that you and Jena are having problems in your relationship, but Gods, Baelor, I have known her since I was a child. We have all known her for ages. You cannot simply ask me not to mention our family to her."

"I did not say you—"

"No, no, you did!" Maekar cuts him off. "You don't want Jena to call Mother, that's it, right? So that Mother can't bring up the lack of a proposal with Jena instead of you, and then Jena can't talk about your own refusal to marry her after over a decade of relationship. Is that not it?"

Baelor's jaw tightens, but he doesn't reply, and Maekar knows he's right about it all.

"Do not take the frustrations of your own failure out on me," Maekar warns Baelor before shoving past him and rushing to his room. He slams the door closed and throws himself into the bed, covering his face with a pillow, and finally letting the tears that he had been holding back so hard flow.

They stop talking again.

But this time, it's worse.

Now they don't say a word to each other, never talk together, and hell, they barely even see one another. Maekar always hides in his room while Baelor hides in his. The thought of sharing a space with him when Baelor drops him off at the university becomes unbearable, so Maekar figures out the Tube and the bus schedule all on his own.

Baelor doesn't apologise, doesn't even look at him, and Maekar isn't forgiving him until he grovels, so if he plans to hold on to his stupid pride, he's afraid all of Baelor's pretty dreams of them bonding can go to hell.

Things are better at his university. Ms. Samson's class is still easy as a breeze, Maekar has learnt to mostly stay awake through Mr. Morris's class, and Maekar keeps his eyes stubbornly trained on his laptop during Baelor's class.

And things with Lyonel are…fine, too.

As he promised, he has stopped being repulsively annoying. Mostly. As much as he can tone down that part of his personality. They hang out together. Lyonel takes him out on dates, they make out in Lyonel's car, and have sex in it, too. And at his house, and at the locker room, and the mall's bathroom, and the pub, and once in an alleyway outside a club.

Lyonel is fun. He makes Maekar forget about all the painful silences and coldness that he has to bear at home. Maekar isn't sure if they're dating, but he doesn't care enough to ask. Whatever they are, it's good enough.

Clearly, Lyonel's feelings about the matter are the same. No matter how much he calls Maekar princess, he has yet to ever address their situation and put a name to it.

Whenever Maekar stays over at Lyonel's, he has to resist the urge to text Baelor about it. Sometimes, when it rains too much when he's on his way to university, he wants to ask Baelor to drop him off. When he stays at the library too late, and the sky is dark by the time he leaves, he wants Baelor to pick him up.

But Maekar will not be the one who breaks the silence that has set between them, so he'll just have to suffer through his longings all on his own.

Just when Maekar is about to give up on the notion that Baelor might ever apologise for what happened, his brother surprises him.

Maekar is in the kitchen, and it's quite ironic that this is where it happens. Or maybe Baelor deliberately approached him right at this moment.

"Maekar," he says, and Maekar's hands freeze on the mug. He looks down at the warm, swirling coffee and wonders if he should just ignore Baelor and walk away, but it's been so long, and Maekar is tired of being angry.

He turns around and faces Baelor. "What?"

Baelor starts hesitantly, "I wanted to talk to you."

"Took you long enough," Maekar states, and Baelor has the decency to look appropriately chastised.

"It did," his brother whispers. "I'm sorry, Maekar. About that day. You were right. About everything. About Jena, and about my failures, and–and I'm really sorry that I took it out on you. I was stressed, and it is not an excuse. It's the reason. I was stressed, and I was unkind to you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

Maekar's teeth grit, and he glares at Baelor. "It took you this long to say these simple words."

"I—" Baelor startles. "I only thought that–that you wished for space from me. I thought you didn't want to talk to me, or–or have to do anything with me, really. I was just trying not to make things worse. For Seven's sake, Maekar, you started taking the bus to avoid me!"

"That's because you weren't apologising!" Maekar hisses. "Why on earth would I get in your car when you can't even bring yourself to apologise after fucking up, because if your ego—"

"It was not about ego, Maekar!" Baelor tries to defend himself. "I didn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already had."

"You are an idiot!" Maekar yells.

Baelor opens his mouth to argue, but then he closes it, and his shoulders fall, all fight leaving him. "Yes, I'm starting to understand that."

"Good. As long as you know," Maekar states, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together tightly. After a moment, he clicks his tongue and says, "You're forgiven."

Baelor's lips curl into a shaky smile, and to his immense surprise, he wraps his arms around Maekar and pulls him into a hug. Baelor buries his face into Maekar's neck and mumbles, "Thank you, Maekar." and after a second of hesitation, Maekar hugs Baelor back just as tightly.

It's nice. Baelor's arms are strong, and he is warm, and the comforting smell of sandalwood and smoke makes Maekar want to melt into Baelor's embrace. But the comfort doesn't last long. Eventually, Baelor breaks the hug, though he doesn't go far.

His eyes are soft as they stay locked on Maekar, but they drop slightly and harden once again. Before Maekar can figure out what has Baelor upset again, Baelor's hand rises, and his thumb presses into a spot on his throat.

It stings a little, and Maekar realises that it's a hickey Baelor is thumbing.

Maekar's face colours. "I–that's—"

"Lyonel, right?" Baelor asks, something heavy in his voice.

"Yeah," Maekar whispers out a quiet reply.

"Your boyfriend?" Baelor questions.

"No, no, not my boyfriend," Maekar winces. Gods, he really doesn't want to talk to Baelor about this. "Just…it doesn't matter. He's not my boyfriend."

Baelor frowns. "Well, whatever he is, be careful, okay? Your safety is the most important thing."

"I know," Maekar huffs. "Trust me, I am being careful. "I'm not getting pregnant at eighteen, especially not with that idiot's kid."

Baelor chuckles, "That's good to know, but accidents—"

"Still happen. Yes, yes, I understand," Maekar rolls his eyes. "Mother save me, everything has to be a lecture with you."

"I'm just looking out for you," Baelor exclaims, once again looking at Maekar with the kicked dog eyes.

"I appreciate that, Baelor, but I can take care of myself. Trust me to do that. If I am in trouble, I'll come to you," Maekar swears, and Baelor's expression eases.

"Alright," Baelor concedes. "Though, I can drop you off and pick you up from uni again, right? In the morning it's still fine, but I don't like you taking the bus so late at night."

"Yes," Maekar eagerly nods. "Gods, I hate the bus, and the Tube is worse."

The laugh Baelor lets out is warm, bright, and enough to spark something strange in Maekar's abdomen.

As if to make up for all the lost time, Baelor starts paying extra attention to him since they made up. Maekar finds it a little overwhelming at first, but eventually he gets used to it. Baelor takes him out to pubs, bookshops, and to watch various shows whenever they're free, especially on weekends when they're out for hours.

It's nice.

Growing up, Maekar has only been close to Rhaegel, but after he moved in with his girlfriend, he hasn't spent time with anyone like this. A part of him wishes that he could have had this his whole life, but even if a little late, he is glad that he and Baelor have found their place in each other's lives.

Baelor's attention is addictive. When he focuses on Maekar, his eyes stay just on him, not straying even the slightest, and the intensity of his attention makes his flush brightly.

He is also more tactile than Maekar expected. A hand on his shoulder, or his palm flat against his back, becomes common between them, and Maekar slowly gets used to the touches.

Their bond strengthens faster and quicker than it ever did before the argument, and Maekar is happy with how they are. Though he won't ever admit it to anyone, it makes him glad that their parents sent Maekar to live with Baelor because if they hadn't, he'd never get to have Baelor like this.

Even when they both get busy with exams, things don't change between them. The distance doesn't weaken the force of care and affection they have for each other. The exhaustion of studying and grading brings them closer, even.

However, as much as Maekar enjoys being in Baelor's place with him, he can't deny that he misses home and his parents every day. So when summer break arrives, Maekar is almost ready to vibrate out of his skin from excitement.

Maekar spends most of the drive back home sleeping because he couldn't sleep a wink the night before, and it's probably a good thing. He can't imagine he'd be very patient if he sat through the entire drive awake.

When the car stops, Maekar can already see his mother standing outside, waiting for them. Maekar throws the door open with a bright grin and rushes towards her. He would run if he didn't know that it would get him scolded.

"I missed you, too, little swan," his mother says with a light laugh as Maekar crushes her into a hug.

"He's never that happy to see me," Baelor complains from behind him, though his voice is light with friendly teasing.

Maekar breaks the hug and looks over his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at Baelor and says, "Why would I be?'

Myriah pinches his side softly and chides, "Maekar, behave!"

"It's alright, Mother," Baelor chuckles, and a large palm lands on the back of his head, ruffling his hair slightly. "I'm used to his attitude by now."

Maekar ducks his head with a light blush and huffs, "Where's Father?"

"In his office," mother replies. "Come on, he's been waiting to see you two."

The three of them make their way to Daeron's office, and find the door slightly ajar. Myriah pushes it open further, and Maekar watches his father turn his eyes away from the screen and towards them. He somehow looks older than Maekar remembers them, and the thought makes something clench painfully inside him.

"Ah, you two are back," Daeron says, rising from his seat and approaching them.

"Hello, Father," Maekar goes to the man first, hugging him tightly.

"Welcome home, son," Daeron says to him. "How have you been? Have you been doing well at your classes? What about the exams? Did they go well?"

"Daeron! Let the boy breathe!" Myriah chastises.

"I've been well, Father," Maekar replies. "The classes are all good, too, and the exams went well, as well."

Daeron smiles affectionately. "That's good." Then he looks up at Baelor and says, "How about you? How has my eldest been?"

"I've been well, too, Father," Baelor answers.

"He works too much," Maekar interjects.

"Maekar," Baelor warns while Daeron laughs.

"One day, you may share his load," his father says to him, and something warm blooms inside Maekar at the thought of it.

They have lunch together, the four of them, and after that, he and mother make their way to the garden while he shares stories of his university and what else he did while Baelor and father disappear into the office. He makes the mistake of mentioning Lyonel while talking about the fencing club and has to suffer through his mother's embarrassing teasing and multiple warnings regarding his safety.

"I know, Mother, I will be careful, I promise," he swears, begging all the Gods, old and new, to make her stop talking about this.

"Bring the boy home. We shall meet him," Myriah tells him instead of stopping, and Maekar stares at her in horror.

"Absolutely not," he exclaims. "He's not someone anyone in our family would approve of."

Myriah gasps, "Then what are you doing with a boy like that?! End your—" She waves her hands dramatically. "—relationship!"

"I will, Mother, soon," Maekar tells her.

"You should meet someone good," Myriah scolds him. "Someone like Alys, or Jena. Oh, and speaking of Jena, she called me the other day, and said you two met."

Maekar barely manages to hold a wince back at the mention of her. "Uh, yes. We met. She came over for dinner, and we talked a bit. She went back to Iceland again, as far as I know. For a conference."

"Yes, she mentioned that," mother says. "I hope Baelor finally proposes once she returns. They have been together for so long already. People are starting to talk."

Maekar really, really doubts that he will. He might not know what is happening between the two of them, but he's not stupid. He can tell that things are not right, and he can tell that any mention of marriage stresses Baelor immensely. He's not going to propose to her, not any time soon.

Maekar tells himself that the thought doesn't make him happy; after all, why would it?

After supper, when the house has gone quiet, Maekar slips out of his room and finds himself walking towards Baelor's. He can see the light is still on, so he knows his brother is still awake. He knocks softly, and a few seconds later, the door opens.

Baelor's eyes widen slightly at the sight of him. "Maekar, is something the matter?"

Maekar shakes his head. "No, I just—can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." Baelor steps aside to let him in, and Maekar makes his way to Baelor's bed to sit on the edge. "Are you sure everything's fine?"

"Yes, yes. You know, all this worrying is making you grey early," Maekar jokes.

Baelor scoffs, "I'm not greying."

Maekar grins. "You might start soon, old man."

"Old man—!"

Maekar laughs at the pure offence painting Baelor's face, and the older man's face melts into a smile. He sits next to Maekar, their shoulders brushing, and asks again, "What is it, Maekar?"

Maekar sighs, and rests his head on Baelor's shoulder. "You'll leave tomorrow, and I won't see you for a month, still."

"Yes," Baelor agrees. "But you already knew that."

"It will be strange without you around," Maekar confesses. "I have got too used to your presence. I might even miss you bothering me."

Baelor huffs. "I will remember you said that. And it will be worse for me, don't you think? I haven't returned to an empty house in so long, but it is only a month, and the month shall pass."

"A whole month!" Maekar bemoans. "I will die in that time, Baelor. I will be so bored here, and it will be the death of me. You will return to my corpse."

"Your dramatics are never-ending," Baelor laughs. "I shall miss that, too. And you won't be bored. Father has mentioned to me that Aerys and Rhaegel might visit soon."

"Aerys," he hisses. "Aerys might as well be sitting in the room with us right now, and I wouldn't notice his presence, that insipid, bothersome ghoul!"

"Maekar, he's your older brother! You ought to speak with more respect!" Baelor tries to scold him, but he's laughing too much for it to have any effect.

Maekar resists the urge to stick his tongue out like a child, and instead says, "Rhaegel is fine, though. I have rather missed his presence."

Baelor wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "Well, there you have it. You can spend the month with him, and before you even know it, I'll be back to take you home."

Home, huh?

Baelor's flat does feel like home now.

The next morning, Baelor leaves early enough that sleep is still stubbornly clinging to Maekar's eyes. He barely realises when Baelor pulls him into a hug and murmurs the promise to return before Baelor is already backing off and driving away.

Before Aerys and Rhaegel arrive, Maekar spends his days either visiting the coffee shops or libraries around and reading books, or going out with his mother. He has little interest in her society gossip, but he has missed her enough to indulge her without complaining.

Rhaegel's arrival brightens Maekar's days a little.

He has the wonderful ability to turn the most mundane moments into something special, and Maekar enjoys each moment that he spends with him. Of all their siblings, he is the closest in age to Maekar — even if he is five years older — and has spent a lot of time with Maekar when he was a baby.

Maekar relaxes around him almost instinctively.

"I have missed you, Mae," Rhaegel says, hugging him close.

"I've missed you, too, brother," Maekar tells him. "How have you been?"

"I've been great!" Rhaegel grins.

"Is that so? Your new home, is it to your liking?" he asks.

Rhaegel nods enthusiastically. "Yes, quite. You should visit. It is so close to the sea, and I'm sure you would enjoy watching along the beach. Alys certainly does."

Rhaegel and Alys's place is farther than any of them would have liked, but the pair wanted some peace and quiet away from the city, and a house by a secluded ocean seems to be the perfect choice for them.

His brother looks even more cheerful than usual, talking about it, and Maekar is happy for him.

"I would love to visit someday," he says to his brother. "Maybe during a break, I can ask Baelor to take me."

"Sounds wonderful!" Rhaegel exclaims.

Contrary to Rhaegel, Aerys's presence is wholly unwelcome. Just as Maekar knew he would, Aerys spends all his time stuck in the library, brooding, and whenever Maekar visits the library, he makes sure to avoid his brother, haunting a corner with his ghostly presence.

The month passes slowly, but Maekar resists missing Baelor too much.

Yet, when the break finally comes to an end, Maekar can't contain his excitement, though it's mostly about seeing Baelor again instead of attending his classes.

He is packing his bags, imagining being engulfed in Baelor's arms and basking in his warmth, when there's a knock on his door, and Alys says to him, "Your Mother has asked me to inform you that Baelor is almost here."

Alys's steps retreat before Maekar can say anything back, and he finishes the rest of the packing rather quickly. By the time he goes downstairs, Baelor is already there, and when their eyes meet, his brother smiles at him, wide and eyes crinkling from joy.

Outwardly, Maekar keeps his composure, but can't stop himself from preening just a little.

Baelor approaches him, and as expected, he pulls Maekar into a hug. "How have you been, brother? I have missed you so much."

"I've been well," Maekar replies. "And I have missed you, too, but only an appropriate amount."

Baelor laughs, warm breath hitting Maekar's neck. "I shall take it as the gift that it is."

Maekar pushes Baelor away and averts his gaze, refusing to meet the warmth and fondness that Baelor is directing at him. They don't linger long. Baelor makes the excuse of a busy road, and they leave right after lunch.

The road is clear, and they do not suffer through traffic even once on their way. Maekar makes no mention of it.

His classes start again, and Maekar and Baelor fall into their usual routine again. This time, it takes quite a while before it gets disrupted.

Though the disruption is less bothersome than the arguments they had, but also something inevitable.

Even after finishing his dinner, Maekar lingers on his seat, occasionally glancing at Baelor before taking small sips of water.

"Is something the matter, Maekar?" Baelor asks him, concern etched into his face.

"Yes, I wished to speak to you about something," Maekar starts, and Baelor straightens at the seriousness of this voice. "My heat is arriving."

Baelor's expression shifts into one of surprise. "Oh. Oh, I see. Well, yes, thank you for informing me beforehand. If you tell me the exact date, I can–I will leave for a hotel for those days."

"I can–" Maekar hesitates. "If it's more comfortable for you, I can stay at a heat house. I don't wish to kick you out of your own home."

Something sharp flashes over Baelor's face, but is gone quickly. "No. No, absolutely not. You will stay here; it will be the most comfortable for you, and it is your home, too, Maekar. You can kick me out if you wish to."

"Don't make such promises because I just might," Maekar warns, teasingly, and Baelor's face eases a little. "Thank you, for…" Maekar trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

"You don't need to thank me," Baelor assures him. "Just inform me of the dates, alright? I'll make sure I'm out of your hair." Suddenly his face grows slightly grim, and he asks, "Will you be inviting anyone–"

"No," Maekar shuts Baelor down before he can even finish the sentence, and Baelor lets out a sigh of relief. As if Maekar would even invite someone into Baelor's house, especially when Baelor has already mentioned feeling discomfort with strangers in his space.

The entire week before Maekar's heat, Baelor spends his time stocking all kinds of foods, drinks, and medicines Maekar might need or want, while Maekar emails his professors about his absence. As promised, Baelor is out of his hair before the fever even hits Maekar.

Maekar is aware that there are a lot of Omegas who enjoy their heats, but he is certainly not one of them. His heats are intense and can even border on painful at their peak. The doctors keep saying that it will be better with a mate, but Maekar is not taking a mate at his age.

So for now, he has to depend on suppressants when it gets too painful to bear.

When the fever starts rising, Maekar busies himself with making his nest. He surrounds the bed with his clothes, and some articles of his parents and Rhaegel that he brought from home, but when he lies on it, it feels incomplete.

Maekar twists and turns, but nothing changes. The nest stays unsatisfying, and Maekar sits back up in annoyance. He glares down on the offending nest, but it doesn't magically fix his problem. At first, Maekar doesn't understand what the issue might be, but then he notices that there is one scent missing.

Baelor's.

The realisation makes him pause.

Maekar never asked Baelor to give him any of his clothes because he didn't think of it. He has never needed it before, but things have changed, haven't they? And now Baelor's scent is something that comforts him.

He knows it is wrong to simply take something of Baelor without his permission, but as his fever rises, the need for a proper nest clouds his sensibilities.

Maekar gets off the bed and makes his way towards Baelor's room. Even after months of living with Baelor, he has never actually been to his room. There was never the need.

Now, he finally has need. Maekar twists the doorknob and pushes it open before stepping inside. Baelor's room is neat, practical, and mostly empty, not much different from the rest of the flat. Maekar's room, with his decorations and trinkets, feels cluttered in comparison.

He doesn't linger to look around, too impatient as of now, even if he would have certainly paid more attention to his surroundings if it were any other time. His eyes catch the sight of a laundry basket in one corner of the room, and he walks straight towards it.

Out of it, he fishes out a blue jumper, one that he has seen Baelor wear several times at home, and returns to his room with it. He adds it to his nest and lies back down, and his whole body immediately melts into the comfort of it.

He sighs and rubs his face against his pillow, and closes his eyes, deciding to take a nap before he's too far gone.

Maekar wakes up abruptly, his body as warm as a furnace.

His hands tremble as he rushes to take his clothes off, discarding them carelessly.

Between his thighs, he is soaked.

Maekar lets out a shaky breath and reaches towards his cunt with trembling fingers. He is wet enough that he can plunge two fingers immediately without any resistance. The fullness has him groaning as he throws his head back into the pillow.

He fucks his fingers in and out of his cunt in swift, forceful motions, and uses his other hand to rub his clit. The first orgasm hits him without any difficulty, and with it, some of the desperate urgency bleeds out of him.

He knows this peace won't last long. Soon, another wave will hit him, and that will be much more intense. Panting, he sits up and wipes his fingers on the bed sheets before reaching towards his bedside drawer. He opens the bottom cabinet and takes out a bottle of lube and several toys to help him through the heat.

He lies on the bed, sprawled out while trying to regain as much energy as he can, but the second wave hits much quicker than he expected. Desperately, Maekar is reaching towards his toy, one shaped like a large cock, and pours lube all over it before rubbing it on his pussy.

When appropriately soaked, he pushes the thing inside himself, and whines breathlessly as his walls stretch around it. It is larger than two of his fingers, and Maekar feels the burn of it going inside him. His swollen lips flutter around it, and his walls tighten while Maekar tries to adjust to the size of it.

Shaky and uncoordinated, he pulls it out until only the tip is inside before thrusting it back again. He chokes out a moan that leaves him open mouthed, and his thighs quake from the pressure of it. He repeats the motion over and over until he feels drool trickling down his face, yet somehow, it is not enough.

With quivering limbs, he sits up and positions himself on top of the tip. Spreading his legs over the sheets, he drops back down on the toy and throws his head back in pleasure as the fullness hits him again.

Maekar grinds his hips down on the fullness before moving himself up and down on it until he has found a desperate, bouncing rhythm. The thickness of the toy makes sure that all of Maekar's nerve endings are deliciously stimulated, and he feels his eyes rolling back from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Please, please—" he begs nonsensically, trying to press the toy deeper into him. He reaches back, almost delirious, and presses a small button at the bottom of the toy. The base starts inflating, and catches on Maekar's walls with every bounce.

His cunt flutters, and he whines as he struggles to fit the knot inside, but after one last push, Maekar finally manages to get the knot inside. All strength leaves his body, and he crumbles on the bed, falling face first into Baelor's jumper.

The rich smell of sandalwood and smoke immediately fills Maekar, and his mouth falls open. Eyes rolling, he bites into the fabric while his orgasm rips through him. His walls pulse as he cums all over the toy, soaking himself and the bed.

He imagines Baelor over him, fisting his hair with his large hands, pulling tight and shoving him into the bed, making him choke and cry as he knots Maekar over and over again.

Tiny, hiccuping sobs leave Maekar, and he subconsciously nuzzles into the jumper while trying to come down from the high. The knot is thick inside him, and he knows it's not going to go down for a while.

His eyes close, and his body sags as exhaustion claims him.

The next time he wakes up, he is too delirious to even stop and think about his actions when he clutches Baelor's jumper and presses it to his face to breathe his scent in. He should probably be worried about how much the scent turns him on, how desperate it makes him, and how his body tightens because of it, but when the heat is making all of Maekar's thoughts foggy, he can't quite comprehend his actions.

Between rounds of intense fever, he is only lucid enough for a few hours daily and in that time, he can only manage to get some nutrients into his body and use the bathroom. Other than that, all thoughts are beyond him.

The whole week, Maekar spends in his bed, cumming over and over until he's passed out, and then waking up and going through it all over again.

By the time the heat finally passes, Maekar is completely drained. His whole body quakes when he tries to move, but he is disgusting and in desperate need of a bath. He manages to get himself into the bathroom and sits on the counter while waiting for the tub to fill with warm water.

He pours oils into the water, and finally slips into it. He soaks his body right up to his neck, and feels his sore, aching muscles loosen. He sighs and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth for a moment, before starting to wash his hair and his body.

Feeling much better about himself, Maekar steps out of the tub and wraps a soft, plush robe around himself. He tries to wring out as much water as he can from his hair, but it still drenches the back of the robe as he walks out of the bathroom, and his eyes immediately fall on his bed.

Maekar scowls as he looks at it. The sheets are all ruined, and beyond salvation. The merciful thing to do will be to burn it, but he can't do that in the flat in the middle of the city.

So all he can do is put all the clothes and the sheets into the washing machine and hope for the best. As he's taking his nest apart, he pulls out the jumper.

Baelor's jumper.

Memories of the heat return to him, albeit a little foggy.

Still, Maekar knows what he did, how he acted, and feels shame burn him from the inside. Gods, what the fuck is wrong with him. If Baelor ever knows what Maekar did, he'd be–he'd be disgusted.

Maekar clenches his eyes closed for a moment and imagines the look of apprehension on Baelor's face. No, Maekar can't tell him about this. He can't know, absolutely not.

He is quick to wash everything and clean off every bit of evidence of Maekar's heat before dumping the sheets and the clothes into the bag where he keeps his heat supplies. Even if Baelor notices the jumper missing, he won't doubt Maekar regarding it.

With some difficulty, he puts on new bed sheets and changes into a loose and flowy shirt and linen trousers. His body is still sensitive from the recent heat, and he doesn't particularly want anything touching him.

Baelor returns late in the evening that day, just before supper, and when he notices Maekar on the sofa, a pleased smile curls on his lips.

Maekar watches as his brother takes a deep breath, and his smile freezes slightly. He wouldn't say it doesn't hurt when Baelor averts his eyes and seemingly stops breathing as he asks, "How are you feeling, Maekar?"

He clears his throat. "I'm okay," he replies.

"That's good." Baelor nods, still not looking at him. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Not yet," he answers. "It's fine if you're tired, and don't want to—"

But Baelor shakes his head and stops his words. "I'm not tired. Is there anything in particular you want to eat? I can at least try to make it for you."

What Maekar would like is for Baelor to look at him and fucking breathe.

"Salad, maybe. I don't feel like anything heavy," he says instead.

"Alright, let me wash up first," Baelor tells him, and flees.

It's not that Maekar doesn't understand. He knows his scent isn't the most pleasant, and his sharp black pepper scent isn't typical in Omegas. Right after his heat, it must be even more potent, so he gets that it must make Baelor uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting, especially after Maekar spent his whole heat breathing Baelor's scent in.

He doesn't let any of his feelings show on his face, however, and after returning from his shower, Baelor doesn't act strangely or avoid Maekar any longer, so he pushes his feelings of hurt away and tries to enjoy his brother's presence.

"Are you resuming your classes tomorrow?" Baelor asks him after dinner.

"Day after tomorrow," Maekar corrects him, and Baelor nods.

"Right, that's better. You should rest tomorrow. Regain your strength," Baelor says to him. "I know heats can be extremely exhausting."

Maekar does not want to know how Baelor knows.

So he changes the topic.

"Do you have work early tomorrow?" he asks.

Baelor blinks at the sudden query, but replies all the same. "I don't, no."

"Then watch a movie with me," Maekar demands. "I'm not sleepy, and I don't want to be alone, right now."

Baelor doesn't reply immediately, and just as Maekar starts preparing himself for the rejection, he says, "Yeah, alright. Pick something. I'll be with you in a minute."

Maekar can't help the way his face brightens, and he bounds over to the living room. He picks a thriller movie because he knows Baelor likes those, and plays it. Only a few minutes in, Baelor enters and sits on the sofa, right beside him.

Their shoulders brush, and after a second of hesitation, Maekar leans into his. He rests his cheek on Baelor's shoulder, and Baelor wordlessly holds him close. They don't share any words as they watch the movie, but halfway through, he feels Baelor's thumb caressing his neck, right over his scent gland.

Maekar's lips part slightly, and a soft sigh leaves him. His eyes flutter closed, but Maekar doesn't move an inch and lets Baelor continue his ministrations. He doesn't realise when he falls asleep, and barely senses it when his body shifts and his surroundings change.

He squints his eyes open as he feels Baelor carrying him to his room. But then Baelor says, "Sleep, Maekar," his voice rumbling around his chest, and Maekar obediently closes his eyes again.

This incident becomes another one of the things Maekar refuses to dissect.

Maekar returns to his classes, and the next few days are painfully normal. All signs of the heat leave his body, and Maekar continues on with his life as usual.

i'll be in my office
don't leave without me
its raining heavily

Maekar only sees the text when he's already on his way to Baelor's office. He stops in front of the door and is about to knock when he hears sounds of Baelor talking from inside. At first, he assumes that someone is inside, but then he realises that it's just Baelor talking. Probably on his phone.

So he knocks, but there is no reply. Maekar twists the knob and pushes the door in slightly.

And Baelor's voice becomes much clearer to him.

"—I don't want to, Jena. Is that really that hard to understand?" Baelor's voice is louder than usual and filled with frustration. "I never asked you to! I've been perfectly clear with you from the beginning and you—"

He sighs.

"Then there's nothing more to talk about, is there? Yes, I think that'll be better for us, too." And then there's complete silence. Maekar can't see Baelor from the other side of the door, but he can imagine the aggravated look on his face that he gets when things don't go the way he expected them to perfectly.

He knocks again, and this time, Baelor hears it.

"Maekar? Come in," he says, and Maekar steps into the room.

Maekar doesn't let anything on his face reveal that he heard the conversation, and only asks, "Are you done with work? I'm tired."

Baelor directs an exhausted smile towards him and says, "Yeah, me too. Let's go home. We can get takeout on our way. From the Chinese place you like so much."

"Sounds great!" Maekar says, infusing as much excitement in his voice as possible.

For the next few days, Baelor is like a completely different person. He is obviously stressed, but it is much more different than how he is when he is worried about work. This is something deeper, something that fills him with concern down to his very core.

He is zoning out mid conversations, not eating properly, and the dark circles under his eyes are becoming dangerously prominent.

He can tell whatever is bothering Baelor so much is connected to the fight Maekar overheard the other day. He is concerned enough that he almost calls Jena, asking her about what happened, but Maekar knows that will only make things worse, and the last thing Baelor would want is for his younger brother to intrude into his relationship.

But then one day, when Maekar is the only one home, a parcel appears. A large cardboard box from Jena for Baelor. Despite his better judgement, he opens it and finds it filled with some clothes and other mundane things. They're all Baelor's, even though Jena's scent is heavy on each item, and it leaves Maekar even more confused about what might be happening.

He decides to finally just confront Baelor about it instead of hoping that things will go back to normal on their own. He waits for Baelor to return home, but even as Maekar finishes his supper and sits in the living room for hours, there's no sign of Baelor.

Maekar doesn't know when he dozes off, but he wakes up to the sound of someone moving around in the flat. He sits up and looks around, and finds the balcony door open with Baelor leaning against the railing.

He rubs his face and gets his hair out of his face before standing up with slightly lethargic limbs. He walks towards Baelor and leans on the railing, too, right beside him.

This close, Maekar can smell the alcohol on him and can clearly see the cigarette between his fingers.

"I didn't know you smoked," Maekar muses.

Baelor keeps looking out at the city. With a rueful smile, he says, "I was trying to quit."

Maekar hums and asks, "Is it about Jena?" and feels Baelor stiffen beside him. "A large box arrived earlier today from her. It was filled with your stuff."

Baelor doesn't reprimand him for looking through the stuff, only sighs and confesses, "Yes, it's because we broke up."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Maekar says as casually as possible and rolls his eyes when Baelor looks at him in shock. "C'mon, Baelor. I'm not stupid."

Baelor's shoulders slump in defeat, and he closes his eyes for a second before blinking them open again, and admits, "Yes, it is what I wanted. I've wanted it for a long time."

"But…" Maekar urges.

"But our parents," Baelor says, and Maekar winces.

"Ah."

"Exactly," Baelor mumbles. "They will not take it well. I dread the conversation, and it will be even worse if they hear it from someone else before they hear it from me."

"They will—" Maekar tries to find the right words to comfort Baelor. "They will understand. They will have to. They can't force you to marry someone you don't want to."

"It is my duty, Maekar."

"Fuck your duty!" Maekar snaps, and Baelor lets out a surprised huff. "You have enough duties as it is. If you marry someone you don't want to, you'll be miserable for the rest of your life; you both will be. That's not fair."

"Things rarely are," Baelor voices. "It'd be easier if it were anyone else, but they liked Jena. She was everything they would want for me. And we dated for so long."

Maekar goes quiet for a while after that. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," Baelor whispers, and Maekar's heart aches for him. He sounds miserable, but Maekar has not idea how to make him feel better. "Let's not–" Baelor starts, voice louder and firmer. "Let's not talk about this right now. I'm sorry I've been…I'm sorry about how I have been the past few days. I'll do better."

"You don't have to," Maekar reassures him. "You don't have to do better for me. I just didn't want you to be in pain all alone."

Hearing that, Baelor finally meets his eyes, and they're so incredibly dark that Maekar shudders at the sight of them. Unable to hold eye contact, Maekar is the one to look away first, and his eyes drop right on the red flicker on the end of the cigarette.

"Is that even good?" Maekar asks, voice slightly raspy.

"Wanna try?" Baelor offers, and before he can even register the question, he's nodding.

Maekar thinks Baelor would simply hand him the cigarette or maybe offer him a new one, but he watches curiously as Baelor takes a large puff, and then, surprising him, he cups Maekar's face and tilts his head up to bridge the few centimetres of difference between them.

When Baelor's thumb presses on his bottom lip, he instinctively parts his mouth, and leaning close, Baelor blows the smoke right into his mouth.

Maekar's eyes water as he greedily sucks the smoke in, and barely resists the urge to cough. He keeps looking at Baelor with his watery eyes, but when Baelor fits their lips together, Maekar's eyes slip closed, and the tears fall down his cheeks.

Baelor's lips move against him greedily, and Maekar can finally keep up. But when Baelor licks into Maekar's mouth, he stops fighting for control and lets himself be kissed.

Maekar whines into the kiss, and the sound only spurs Baelor on even more. He kisses Maekar harder until neither of them can breathe, and when he pulls away, Maekar's lips are sore. Maekar's eyes flutter open, and he looks at Baelor, but just as he meets them, the dual toned eyes widen in horror, and he pushes Maekar away.

"I–fuck," Baelor's voice trembles. "Fuck, fuck, Maekar, I'm really sorry. This was—shit–I was drunk. I drank too much earlier. This was a mistake. I'm so sorry."

And Baelor runs, leaving Maekar there.

The days that come next are absolutely miserable.

Baelor avoids him at every turn and can't even bear to look at him, and no, no, Maekar refuses to go through this again. Especially not after–after the kiss. Maekar never let himself think about it. In all these months, all Maekar has done is push his feelings down and not let himself think about it.

But now the line has been crossed, and Maekar wants more. He wants all of it.

"We're going to talk about it," Maekar ambushes him one day.

"There's nothing to talk about," Baelor tries to walk past him.

"You kissed me," Maekar states, letting the words sit between them, and Baelor flinches.

His face crumbles, and he shakes his head. "It shouldn't have happened. I'm really–I really am sorry about that, Maekar. It was–it was a huge mistake. I messed up. It won't happen again."

"So you have said," Maekar grits, refusing to let the hurt surface. "But you're avoiding me. Is that your way to stop yourself from messing up again? You can't be near me, look at me without wanting to kiss me?"

Baelor grimaces and clenches his eyes shut. He swallows heavily. "It should have never happened in the first place, and it wouldn't have if I hadn't let myself slip. I won't let myself slip again, Maekar, so just give me some time."

Baelor is still not looking at him, and Maekar feels his frustration mount.

"What if I want you to slip?" The words tumble out of him, surprising even him, and Baelor's eyes snap to him, wide with horror.

Then they harden with familiar resolve. "You have no idea what you're saying, Maekar."

"Baelor—"

"No," Baelor shuts him down. "The conversation ends here, Maekar. We are not going to talk about it again. Everything will return to normal; I'll make sure they do."

Baelor runs again, leaving Maekar standing alone again.

Normal…Maekar doesn't want normal. He wants Baelor. He will make Baelor slip. He has done it once, and he can do it again.

For a while, he lets Baelor be. When Baelor avoids him, Maekar doesn't chase after him; when their conversations remain painfully stiff and awkward, he doesn't attempt to fix them; when Baelor refuses to meet his eyes, Maekar doesn't force him.

This is what Baelor wants, right?

A stupid, false sense of normalcy. He can't accept that things won't — can't — go back to how they were, so he settles for a facsimile of it. Maekar will let him have it, so when he strikes, Baelor won't see it coming.

He starts with small things.

Like scenting the whole flat. The place already smells like the two of them, but Maekar has never deliberately scented it to mark his territory. He does now, and with each passing day, the place smells more and more like him.

He buys things to fill the space, he decorates, and everywhere Baelor looks, there are signs of Maekar's touch. Baelor doesn't react, but Maekar doesn't mind. He didn't think cracking his brother would be easy anyway.

But Maekar notices the way Baelor sometimes pauses when Maekar has added something new to the flat, the way his eyes zero in on it, and he relishes the reaction. Baelor's empty warehouse of a flat finally starts looking like something where people live, and every corner of it is filled with Maekar.

Typical Omega arts are still beyond him. He can't embroider, or cook, or play delicate instruments, but those are not the only ways to entice Alphas anyway.

Day by day, his clothes turn shorter, more revealing, and Maekar sees Baelor look — just for a second — before looking away.

A downside of it is that Baelor is not the only one who looks.

Lyonel is all over him whenever they're together, but Maekar doesn't quite mind, considering how much he enjoys the way Baelor's jaw clenches when he returns home smelling of another.

Baelor can try to avoid him as much as he wants, but Maekar will not let him succeed. Maekar has had a taste once; he knows what Baelor's heated gaze feels like when it falls on him, and he refuses to lose it.

Maekar considers scenting Baelor's clothes for a few brief moments, but Baelor can just wash the scent off, so he drops the idea. He'll have to think of something else, something less subtle, but nothing Baelor can brush off in any way.

He bounces around several ideas in his head, but nothing sticks. Until…he remembers that he has something of Baelor. His brother has yet to mention it being missing to Maekar, but he has no doubt that Baelor has noticed its absence.

On days Baelor doesn't have classes, he returns home late now, usually after Maekar falls asleep, but this time, Maekar is determined to stay awake. He watches the clock closely, and about ten minutes before Baelor should be returning, Maekar changes his clothes and makes his way to the kitchen.

Languidly, he takes out a mug from the cabinet and slowly starts making a cup of tea. Maekar's eyes burn from sleepiness, but he forces them open, and just as he's pouring honey into his tea, he hears the front door open.

His spine straightens immediately, and all exhaustion leaves his body. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax, to stand there like he hasn't been waiting for Baelor for hours. He knows Baelor is going to make his way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He hears footsteps padding in his direction, and they stop right at the entrance.

Maekar keeps stirring his tea.

There's a long pause, but Maekar doesn't mind. Baelor has seen him, and that's all that he wanted.

"Maekar," Baelor calls, and he turns. He doesn't pretend to look surprised to see his brother there, and meets his eyes squarely.

"You're home quite late," he converses casually. "I was just making some tea."

Baelor's eyes drop. "That's mine."

Maekar glances down at the blue jumper and then back at Baelor. He smiles as he replies, "It is. I took it during my heat to add it to my nest." He hears Baelor's breath stutter, and his smile widens. "You don't mind, do you?"

Baelor doesn't respond, but his eyes stay on Maekar, darker than they had been a moment before. Maekar pushes off the counter and steps closer to Baelor. He walks until he's only a breath away from the older man, and looks at him through his lashes.

"I could return it, if you wish me to," Maekar murmurs. He doesn't release his pheromones like Omegas usually do since he already knows that Baelor is not fond of it, but Baelor's gaze stays glued on him, and Maekar takes that as a win.

Maekar reaches out and takes Baelor's hand in his. When Baelor doesn't pull away, he guides it under the jumper. It's big enough that it reaches almost to the middle of his thighs, and till now, Baelor could not tell that he hadn't been wearing anything but a pair of dainty panties underneath.

Baelor makes a strangled sound at the revelation, but his hand still cups his waist, fingers tightening slightly. Baelor's expression almost turns dazed, and Maekar shivers at the sight of him. He leans forward, wanting to kiss Baelor again, but that seems to snap Baelor into reality.

He sucks in a sharp breath and stumbles back, looking at Maekar with wide, betrayed eyes. The look hurts, but Maekar refuses to react. He watches Baelor's expression turn to stone, and watches him go, all in silence.

The next day, when Baelor isn't home, Maekar carefully folds the jumper and places it in the middle of the bed. Baelor can do whatever he wants with it.

Maekar has understood that if subtle tricks are not going to work on Baelor, then Maekar will force him to face exactly what he's losing by running.

Having Lyonel take him to a club with some of his stupid friends is painfully easy, and getting him drunk is even easier. The older Alpha does all the work for him, with Maekar only sitting on his lap and spurring him on occasionally.

As usual, Lyonel gets handsy when he's tipsy, and Maekar lets him touch; his hands rove over his body, lets him grope.

"My place?" he asks before Lyonel can drag him out. "It's closer."

That is true. It's not something Maekar planned, but it worked out for him anyway.

Lyonel's eyes go bright with excitement, but he still asks, "I thought your place was forbidden territory, with your brother there and everything."

"He'll be home late," Maekar explains. "As long as you leave before he sees you, it's fine."

"I can work with that," Lyonel grins. The Alpha calls a cab, and Maekar gives the cabbie the address. They kiss in the backseat, and Maekar lets himself think that the stubble burning his face isn't Lyonel's but Baelor's.

Maekar drags Lyonel to the flat, and expectedly, Baelor isn't here. He acts more docile than he usually is, knowing it will get Lyonel more heated. He falls back on the sofa with just one push, and pulls Lyonel on top.

"You're being surprisingly submissive today," Lyonel observes. "Desperate much?"

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Maekar retorts and accepts the mark Lyonel eagerly leaves on his neck.

"True," the Alpha mumbles.

He pushes Maekar's top up, and his hand glides over Maekar's stomach. Lyonel expertly pops the button on his jeans open and pushes his hand inside. Maekar throws his head back with a moan as he feels fingers press over his clothed pussy.

He's already starting to get wet, and parts his legs to make space for Lyonel, while the Alpha keeps rubbing between his lips, making him wetter.

Lost in the sensation, Maekar doesn't notice when the front door opens, nor does he hear the footsteps approaching.

But he definitely hears the voice.

"What—" Maekar hears the anger, the disbelief, and even the hurt lying deep in it. "Is happening here?"

With a sharp curse, Lyonel pulls himself off Maekar. He looks over his shoulder and sees the same thing as Maekar does. His older brother is standing there, slightly dishevelled, and anger written in each one of his features.

"Mr. Baratheon," Baelor says with barely contained rage. "I suggest you leave my house immediately."

Lyonel doesn't even look at him when he says, "Yeah, yep, that's…exactly what I'm gonna do."

Maekar watches him go, and still doesn't sit up, not until Baelor's attention is on him. Baelor looks at him and takes in the sight presented in front of him. Him, lying on the sofa with his top shoved up, and his jeans open, all for another Alpha.

Baelor grits his teeth and asks, "What is the meaning of this, Maekar?"

Maekar sits up and pushes his hair back. He watches Baelor watch. "I thought you'd be back later."

"No, you did not," Baelor argues. "You knew exactly when I'd be back, and you knew exactly what I'd see. You wanted me to–to see this."

"So what did you think of it?" Maekar asks, unbothered by Baelor's accusation.

His older brother's forehead creases in confusion and disbelief. "What did I think of…what?"

"Of me," Maekar clarifies. "With another Alpha. How did you feel, Baelor? Can you bear it for the rest of your life? You are so angry now, so hurt. Then how will you take it when I choose another?"

The anger crumbles apart, only leaving the hurt.

"So what do you want me to do, Maekar?" he exclaims. "I'm trying, am I not? But you make it so, so difficult for me. You are always here…tempting me! Was it fun? Did it bring you joy to watch me suffer?"

"No, it did not!" Maekar snaps and rises to his feet. "And what about you, Baelor? When you watched me chase after scraps of your affection like a desperate dog, did it make you feel better about yourself? Did you tell yourself that you were in the right, attempting for us to be normal again? When will you get it? Normal is not possible, Baelor. It won't happen. I won't let it!"

Baelor's face is pure despair. "Everything will be fine if we just—"

"Nothing will be fine, you fool!" Maekar screams. "I am in love with you—"

Baelor's eyes widen, and he reels back as if he's been struck.

"—and no matter how much we pretend, it's not going to change," Maekar's voice goes quiet by the end, exhausted. "You can push me away all you want, but it won't change your feelings, and it won't change mine either."

Baelor rubs his face with both hands and shakes his head. "You are young, Maekar."

"Oh, don't you dare!" Maekar hisses.

"No, listen to me," Baelor pleads. "You are young, so much younger than me. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will live it, and be happy. You will–you will find someone who is not…your brother, and you'll be happy."

"I won't be happy," Maekar retorts. "Because that person won't be you. I don't care who you are to me, Baelor. I only want you, please."

"People will care, Maekar," Baelor urges him to understand. "Our parents will care, our brothers. Everyone we know. They all will care."

"Why—" Maekar chokes. "Why do you care more for what they think than me?"

Baelor looks stricken. "That is not true. I care for you more than anyone in this dammed world. How could you even say such a thing? Why do you think I'm trying so hard here? I only wish to protect you, Maekar."

"I don't want you to protect me. I want you to be with me!" Maekar cries out. "Why is that so hard for you to understand, you stupid idiot? And–and how am I supposed to know that you care for me? You can't even say it, can you? Say it! Say that you love me."

"You know I do," Baelor's voice is a broken murmur.

"Say it," Maekar begs.

"I love you."

Maekar's bottom lip trembles, his breath hitches, and finally tears fall down his cheeks uncontrollably.

Baelor makes a winded noise and rushes towards him. He cups Maekar's face and wipes his tears away. "Oh, sweetling, no. It's not worth it. I'm not worth it. I–you'll have to throw it all away. Every chance at a normal relationship. We can never introduce each other as lovers to other people; we can never disclose anything about our relationship to anyone; we can never get married; we can never have children of our own."

"You're worth it all," Maekar professes. "You have to decide if I'm worth it all, or not."

Baelor doesn't hesitate, doesn't let the silence settle and break Maekar's heart. He pulls his younger brother into a kiss, salty with tears, and wet with desperation, and sets their dammed future in stone.

He pulls Maekar closer and closer until there is not a single hair of distance between them. Maekar absolutely melts into the kiss, his knees weakening until Baelor is the only thing holding him up. He holds Baelor close, his fingers grasping at his shirt and digging into his body, afraid that Baelor will pull away again.

But Baelor doesn't.

He only lifts Maekar up and carries him deeper into the flat. He doesn't break the kiss even once as he pushes the door to his room open and walks inside. For a brief moment, Maekar wonders how many times exactly Baelor has done this before, but as Baelor curls their tongues together, all thoughts leave Maekar's mind.

Baelor lays him down, and Maekar lets himself fall. His long hair cascades like a halo around his head, and Baelor stares at him with such adoration that Maekar's heart skips a beat.

The Alpha climbs into the bed, between Maekar's spread thighs and leans down to kiss him again. He keeps it sweet this time, pressing gentle pecks on his mouth instead of letting it turn into something filthier.

Baelor's mouth trails down to Maekar's neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, and when he reaches his scent gland, Baelor nudges the spot with his nose and breathes him in.

"Gods, your scent," Baelor groans. "You drive me absolutely insane."

"I did not think you liked it," Maekar admits, panting.

Baelor leans back slightly. "Why on Seven's name would you think that?"

Maekar pouts. "After my heat, you refused to even breathe near me."

He sees Baelor try to recall the incident, and his expression falls to utter exasperation. "That's because I couldn't breathe near you, sweetling. Not without wanting to tear through your clothes and fuck you right then and there."

Maekar's eyes widen, and a shudder runs through him. "You can do that now," he whispers, and Baelor's mouth drops to his neck again.

He sucks on the gland relentlessly, and Maekar tangles his fingers into Baelor's hair, pressing him closer to his heated skin. He gasps as Baelor's fangs scrape over his neck, and bucks into the Alpha.

"Baelor," Maekar whines. "More, c'mon, please."

"Patience, my love," Baelor whispers, making Maekar whimper.

Baelor takes his sweet time stripping Maekar of his clothes. He pulls each article off with painstaking care before tossing them away somewhere in the room. His gaze burns through Maekar as he runs it over his bare body, and his hands are gentle as they caress him.

The rough press of his callouses makes Maekar's eyes flutter, and Baelor descends on him again. He nips little marks all over his neck, an especially vicious one over what Lyonel left on him, before moving to his chest.

Maekar bites down on his lips as Baelor breathes over his chest. He tries to hold back his sound, but a loud moan still rips out of him when Baelor takes a nipple in his mouth. Maekar's toes curl into the sheets as Baelor sucks on the bud.

"Baelor, Baelor, oh—Baelor!" Maekar sobs as Baelor bites down on his nipple.

With a soft, slick sounds, Baelor pulls off one nipple and focuses his attention on the other. Maekar's nails dig into Baelor's shoulder as the older man takes his wet bud between his fingers and starts twisting and tugging on them.

Maekar can feel his cunt pulse with every jolt of pain, and slick drips out of him, soaking his thighs and the bed. There are tears running down his face by the time Baelor's done lavishing his attention to Maekar's chest.

The cold air on the aching, wet skin makes him shiver.

"You are beautiful," Baelor whispers, gazing down at Maekar. He places his mouth on Maekar's cheek and licks the tears off him, and Maekar trembles.

"I love you," Maekar slurs, and Baelor smiles against him.

"I love you, too."

Baelor crawls down between his thighs and places his legs on his shoulder. Maekar feels himself flutter under the intensity of Baelor's dark stare, and jerks back slightly when Baelor uses his thumb to spread him open.

Maekar sees Baelor breathe heavily for a moment before burying his face deep into his cunt. Baelor's mouth is hot against him, and his tongue is insistent. Maekar throws his head back with a loud moan and his hand snaps to grip Baelor's curls.

"Shit," he curses while Baelor sucks on his slicks, tongue licking between his lips and pressing against his hole without ever pushing in.

Baelor circles his tongue around his hole before pushing back and flicking his clit with it.

Maekar gasps, trying to get some air into his burning lungs, as Baelor wraps his lips around his engorged clit and starts sucking. His hips buck, but Baelor wraps an arm around him and presses him down on the bed.

"More, I need more, please," Maekar whines, and Baelor pauses for a moment.

"What do you want, sweetling?" Baelor asks, sounding almost as winded as Maekar feels. "If you want something, you'll have to ask for it, and nicely."

Maekar groans. "Fuck me, Baelor," he demands, and Baelor huffs out a laugh.

"That wasn't nice. Try again, sweeter this time," Baelor urges.

Maekar sniffles and bites down on his lips, annoyed. "I–please. Please, Baelor, fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I'm so empty. Need you inside. Please, please, please—"

"Fuck, fuck, okay," Baelor exhales. "Need to get you loose for me first, though."

"I'm loose enough," Maekar complains.

"I'll be the judge of that," Baelor mutters before pushing his face into Maekar's weeping cunt again. This time, he pushes his tongue in, fucking Maekar with it. His eyes roll, and Baelor licks into his walls, and Maekar pulses around him.

With his free hand, Maekar twists a nipple, the pain making him wetter.

Baelor groans against him. "Yeah, you're loose enough."

When Baelor sits up again, his beard is drenched in Maekar's slick, and the sight makes Maekar's head spin. The Alpha grasps his thigh and flips him on the bed as if he weighs nothing, and Maekar hides his red face into the pillow.

Baelor's grip on his hips is bruising as he hauls Maekar up in position and forces him to present for his older brother. Baelor strokes over his wet hole before his hands disappear entirely.

"What—"

"Shh," Baelor shushes him, and Maekar hears the sound of a belt unbuckling and a zipper being pulled down. He feels the thick head of Baelor's cock press against him, and his whole body tightens in anticipation.

He fists the pillow beside his head as Baelor forces the tip on, and muffles his groan by biting on the pillow. Baelor spreads him further with his thumbs, and thrusts the whole length of him inside in one harsh stroke.

Maekar's moan is loud enough to be heard from the streets.

He cries out, tears wetting the bedding under him. Baelor caresses over his spine, letting him adjust while Maekar pants and trembles from being too unbearably full.

He grinds back, trying to fuck himself on Baelor, but the older man stops him by pressing down on his back and pinning him fully on the bed. Baelor's thrusts hard and deep inside Maekar, pressing into his sweet spots with each hit.

Maekar's body moves up and down the bed from the force of it, and he hides his cries in the sheets. Baelor doesn't like that. A hand tangles with Maekar's hair and pulls his head back roughly, making him choke on a gasp.

"Baelor, Baelor—" Maekar wails.

"Yes," Baelor heaves. "Be loud, my love. Let me hear you."

Maekar's insides feel as if they're burning, and he feels his abdomen tightening with each thrust. He tries to reach between them, to stroke his clit and find some relief, but when Baelor notices, he stops fucking him entirely and lets go of his hair, letting Maekar fall into bed with a thump.

"No, no, please don't stop," Maekar sobs, pleasure clouding all his senses.

"When you cum," Baelor starts and drapes himself over Maekar's back. "You'll cum on my cock. You can do that, right? You'll be a good Omega for me?"

Maekar's whole body shakes, and he rubs his face against the pillow as he nods.

"Words, Maekar."

"I'll be good," Maekar promises.

Baelor presses a kiss on his nape. "Good boy."

He gathers Maekar's wrists in one hand and holds them against his back, and his other hand wraps around Maekar's throat to tilt his head up before Baelor starts fucking him again. He starts slow before gradually picking up pace, and every other thrust, his hand around Maekar's throat tightens ever so slightly, making Maekar gasp and his eyes burn.

Maekar is so close; he can feel it right out of his grasp, and when he feels Baelor's knot kiss his entrance, the simple thought of being filled with Baelor's cum and knotted by him has him squirting all around his cock.

Gushing wetness drips out of him, wetting them both, and the bedding, and even as Maekar's ears ring from the force of his orgasm, he can hear how loud he is screaming.

Baelor lays him down on the bed again and pulls out, but before he can grasp what's happening, the Alpha turns him on his front again, and pushes back inside. He grabs the back of Maekar's thighs and folds him in half before rutting into him desperately.

Maekar's overstimulated cunt burns with Baelor's erratic thrusts, but he doesn't want the Alpha to stop. Baelor is still fully clothed, only having pulled his cock out to fuck Maekar, while he is fully bare on the bed.

He cannot even imagine the sight they make.

"Kiss me," he begs, and Baelor presses him further to lean down and slot their lips together. In between the desperate kisses, Baelor's knot slips into him fully, locking them together as Baelor's warm cum paints his insides white.

Another orgasm wrings out of him just at the sensation of being filled so thoroughly, and Baelor groans against him.

"You are my ruin," Baelor mumbles against him, and all Maekar can manage is a sleepy purr. Carefully, as they come down from the high of their coupling, Baelor arranges them in a way that is comfortable without disturbing the knot.

Maekar lies on Baelor's chest while Baelor combs his fingers through Maekar's long hair, now matted with sweat. He keeps on purring, and feels Baelor relax under the gentle vibrations.

He is not quite awake, but is still somewhat aware of his surroundings. Though Baelor's heartbeat under his ear is doing an expert job of lulling him to sleep.

Still, Baelor's next words are clear as day to him: "I'll let you ruin me gladly."

Maekar smiles, even as Baelor doesn't see it. "Me too," he mumbles, and finally relinquishes to his slumber.

Notes:

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