Warnings: AU-ish for the sake of kink fulfilment, knotting, alpha/beta dynamics with all that implies (see notes), role reversal, dub-con.
Notes: The blame for this lands entirely on aimsme. She's written me enough wonderful things that I couldn't really say no when she fluttered her eyelashes and demanded I unleash this particular plot bunny (more like porn bunny, actually). It's actually the first time I've written explicit fic un-anon.
For those unfamiliar with knotting (which according to Google is most of this fandom as I can only find one other DN fic with this kink oops), it's a kink popularised by Supernatural fandom (shh blame them not me I was innocent before I swear) where characters are given the breeding traits of dogs/wolves. Alpha cocks can knot (swell at the base to keep come in) and betas (sometimes omegas depending on the fic because people disagree on terminology) can self-lubricate and be impregnated. Because fuck science, this is porn.
Matt's busy at work when it first happens, hacking several international databases to try and gather scraps of information about the state of various missile defence programs. Mello's orders, of course. Matt can't say he blames him. It's easy enough to keep their names secret, but there's nothing to stop Kira nuking the general areas of those opposing him, not when he can blackmail any world leader he chooses. As it happens, LA's pretty pro-Kira, and Matt doubts Kira's far gone enough to decimate several thousand of his followers, even to get at some of L's heirs.
But nobody leaves Wammy's without at least an inkling of paranoia.
So he's actually putting a fair amount of effort into concentrating on the job at hand. Yeah, he has a lot of other programmes open at the same time and he's sort of got both music and two games running, but he's always worked better multi-tasking anyway. It's not exactly distraction.
What is a distraction is the sudden scent in the air when Mello comes waltzing back into the flat. Without so much as a hello, but Matt's sort of used to that by now.
He looks up from his laptop, managing to simultaneously frown and raise an eyebrow. "Who've you been hanging around with?"
Figures his bitchface does nothing but inspire a far more impressive one from Mello. "I've told you before not to ask about my work, Matt."
"Your work involves hanging around with bitches in heat now?" Matt's eyebrow hasn't dropped in the slightest. He recognises that smell. Might not have experienced it at close quarters any time recently, but he still knows it, almost innately.
Mello ignores him and heads into the kitchen.
Matt doesn't even consider that the scent might belong to Mello.
((-))
The thing is, Mello's an Alpha. Matt knew it even before they hit puberty. In the way he commands a room, owns everything and everyone, never backs down, has a quick temper, is a born leader. Hell, he's textbook Alpha.
Matt, not so much so. He's always been second to Mello, third to everyone else, and perfectly at ease with that. Part of him thinks maybe it was growing up with Mello that did it. He was taught to play Beta because that was where he fitted into society. Except then he popped his first knot, and suddenly it wasn't.
Mello had already left by that point.
Matt's sort of glad about that, because he knows he'd have been teased relentlessly if he'd still been around. Hell, he and Mello might have come to blows over it. Alphas get territorial pretty easy, and Matt's never exactly wanted to take Mello on. Over anything.
It wasn't a problem by the time they met back up. Matt's been on suppressants since he was fourteen. Partly because he kinda prefers being able to fuck women he genuinely likes, rather than because he caught a whiff of something that his body took an interest in, and partly because he's heard horror stories of condoms being stretched to breaking point by knots, and the last fucking thing he needs is a kid and a partner who wants child support.
Mostly it's because he doesn't need the distraction. Matt's never been one for being ruled by emotions.
He wasn't really sure what Mello did about it. Figured he'd be able to get hold of whatever he needed through the mafia, whether that was suppressants or women. Not Matt's business.
It's still not Matt's business the next morning.
"You manage to get into that server yet, Matty?"
Matt smiles, because they're back in comfortable territory. Mello comes through to the living room in nothing but leather trousers, his hair a mess and stinking of sweat. Probably a rough night, but Matt doesn't pry. Neither of them ever brings up the nightmares they know the other has. Forbidden territory.
"And two others. Doesn't look like there's anything to be worrying about, but I'll keep an eye on 'em." He'll do pretty much anything Mello asks, now that he's out of mafia mode and back into childhood nicknames. Not that Matt wouldn't do anything anyway, but Mello sometimes gets a smile this way. He can be a bitch in mafia mode.
"'Kay. Thanks." Mello rubs a hand against his forehead and makes his way into the kitchen.
Matt hears the fridge open. "You keep eating this much chocolate, you're gonna get fat."
"Fuck off, Matty."
Matt grins.
Mello wanders back through with a chocolate bar in hand, looking considerably calmer. He perches on the arm of the chair Matt's sitting in, peering over at his computer screen.
The scent hits again.
"Dude. Take a shower. Seriously." He doesn't even want to know what Mello was up to last night that he still smells of her the morning after.
Mello casually flips a finger at him before stalking off to do so.
((-))
As it turns out, the shower doesn't help matters. Well. There's less of a lingering smell of sweat around the flat, which is something. But when Mello comes back in, all Matt can smell is bitch. And soap.
Mostly bitch.
They did surveillance on the place, the week they moved in, and Matt knows they don't have neighbours. Not that he ought to be able to scent them through walls, even in heat.
Fuck. It's Mello.
It's Mello, standing there in one of Matt's hoodies and jeans, hair still damp from the shower, giving off the scent of a Beta in heat.
Fucking fuck.
"Do I still have shampoo in my hair or something?" Mello stares at him, eyebrow raised.
"No, it's nothing." Matt quickly diverts his attention back to his laptop screen. Which is dumb as fuck, because it just means he looks guilty. And if anybody can behave like a dog with a bone, it's Mello.
"Matty. Tell me."
"It's nothing, I said."
Mello's curled up beside him on the chair in a matter of seconds, mouth barely an inch from Matt's ear. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Matt."
"It's-" Matt begins, and then feels something cold press against his neck. Okay. Calm. It won't be loaded. Probably.
Then again, Mello's evidently an unsuppressed Beta, and Matt would rather not take the chance, however slim, of him doing something rash in heat.
"I can just smell you. That's all."
The gun is removed from his neck, and Matt allows himself to relax just a fraction. Mello is still pressed right up against him, though, smirk audible in his voice. "And what, you've never gone into heat?"
Shit. Mello thinks he's another Beta. Of course he does. Even Matt thought so, until evidence to the contrary…presented itself. "Um. No. Been on suppressants since I hit puberty."
He's rather surprised Mello hasn't been.
"Surprised they still work, with all the other drugs in your system." Mello sits back in the chair, looking faintly amused.
"Yeah, well. Obviously they work well enough, dumbass. Why aren't you on them?"
"Medical reasons." Mello's tone is clipped enough that Matt doesn't question it, even if it's an obvious lie. "It's fine. I just take the week off when it hits. Twice a year, the mafia's not exactly going to collapse without me."
"I guess." Matt shrugs. "I always had you pegged as an Alpha."
"Alphas are brutes who can only think with their dicks." Mello probably couldn't sound more disdainful if he tried. "L was a Beta, too. They're almost always the smarter ones."
"I guess."
The conversation quickly dwindles into silence except for the soft tapping of Matt's keyboard. Even that pauses after a while. Matt rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms, putting his laptop to one side before getting up and stretching his legs. "I'm gonna head out and get some more fags. You want anything?"
Mello doesn't look up. "Painkillers would be good."
His voice is strained enough that Matt nearly winces. He's the last person to tell someone they shouldn't be trying to just numb themselves of everything, not considering some of the shit he's taken in the past, but he really doubts painkillers are the best thing for Mello right now.
Then again, he's never had a heat, so what does he know?
"I've got some in the drawer next to my bed. Don't take more than two. I'll bring you back some more chocolate, yeah?"
Mello just nods halfheartedly at him and moves towards his bedroom, arm clutched around his stomach like he feels sick.
Matt knew heats could get pretty bad, but still. He kinda hates not being able to really do anything to help. He can fetch chocolate, at least. That's something.
((-))
It takes Matt half an hour to walk to the shops and back, and it's just his luck that they're out of the brand of chocolate that Mello prefers. He has to go with second-best, although he does debate at one point walking further out and getting it somewhere else.
He figures it's probably best to get back as soon as possible, though, in case he walks back in to find Mello curled in a ball in the corner of the bedroom, clutching at himself in pain because the pills didn't work or something.
As it turns out, he walks back in to find Mello stood in the hallway, holding a packet that is not of painkillers.
Shit. Shitshitshit.
"Thought you were a Beta, Matt." Mello stares at him with some unreadable expression. "Why d'you have Alpha suppressants?"
Matt carefully closes the door behind him and puts the shopping bag on the side table. "I never said I was a Beta. You assumed."
"Like anybody in their right mind'd call you an Alpha. Look at yourself, Matt. You stay indoors all day and only go out when I want something fetched, you don't socialise with anyone, and if I kicked you you'd just roll over and take it. Like fuck are you an Alpha."
Once again, Matt's struck with the observation that Mello's behaving less like a bitch in heat and more like an Alpha trying to pick a fight.
He rolls over and takes it.
"Fine then, I'm a Beta who can knot. That make it easier for you?" Matt shoots him a look and wanders through to the living room. He's never been one to concern himself with pack order. It's dumb as shit.
Figures Mello concerns himself with it. Can't have anybody else taking first place, after all, even with something they can't biologically control.
That the argument ends there should have been warning enough.