II
《The Art of Slipping Away》
It was easier when he was younger, but isn't that how it always goes? His father let him get away with plenty before he presented. Late nights stealing the cars from the garage, his Shield laughing in the back seat because he couldn't fit up front. Skipping lessons in the early morning to nap in the trees of the school yard. Watching cartoons instead of political debates, playing video games instead of sitting in on board meetings.
They'd always known he'd be an Alpha, he'd come from a long, strong line of them. His father had seemed his proudest when he'd recovered from his first rut, like that was one worry he could finally brush away. Presenting wasn't anything special or beautiful, it was ugly and it had hurt. He'd never been warned about that part. Like an Omega's heat, he'd felt like he was burning away. The room was too small, too empty, too much. Three days of it and he was glad when he could finally think again.
He'd emerged from his room and had been forced into his place in the hierarchy, a spot he would have gladly left empty. Heir to a family spanning centuries, a lineage that could be traced back to the beginnings of second genders. He was withdrawn from school and new studies began. Ignis stood at his shoulder and gently directed him as he always had. Noctis could sense the differences, though. Could taste the quiet deferment the Beta gave him. He, at least, didn't smell like anything.
Everyone else seemed to be a different story. After his presentation, scents threatened to drown him. They told him the scents would dull as he got older, and would all but vanish once he'd Mated. Right now, they were bursts of smells that left him with near-constant headaches and he hated it. He despised the instinctual feelings that curled in him when he entered rooms with Alphas he didn't know, people not from the Pack. The heavy need to be aware of the location of every Omega in the room.
His eighteenth birthday, three years after presenting, his father began speaking of Mates. Began dropping hints and introducing him to people he worked with and their children. He was and wasn't subtle about it, sometimes pushing his commanding aura onto Noctis and suffocating him. Sometimes, laying down a landmine of a sentence then stepping back to watch the fight in his son unfold.
At his twentieth birthday, his father had given him an ultimatum. Find someone by his twenty first or his father would find one for him. A year to find an Omega he could tolerate, one he'd spend the rest of his life with, one who his father would approve of. It had been the worst birthday ever.
《 》
Two months until his twenty first birthday, his father throws a party. Noctis hates every second of it, but plasters the fake smile on his face and greets all of the guests. He isn't surprised they are all faces he's seen in files from the local matchmaker. The room stinks of hundreds of people pushing hormones, trying to snag his attention.
He catches sight of his father deep in discussion with his own Shield, and takes the opportunity to duck out the door to the servant's hall to the kitchens. It's easy from there to weave down back halls to the garages. He leaves the lights off and heads for his own car, a sleek black thing that has seen far too little of the open road.
"Going somewhere?" The deep voice startles him, he hadn't even smelled his Shield, as the man rounds the front of the car and leans on the hood, crossing his arms. He tenses, debates on if he could make it to the car before the Shield could stop him. The burly man, Gladio, reads something in his face, sighs and drops his arms, "Can we at least take an SUV."
"We?" He asks, straightening and frowning.
"If you're running away, you're going to need someone who knows how to actually function in normal society."
Noctis looks confused, "I'm not running away."
"Sure you're not." He pushes himself up from the car and heads towards Noctis, "You're just leaving a party in your honor for more drinks, then?"
He keeps walking, Noctis turns to watch him as he pulls keys from a peg on a wall, waits as he heads for a large black SUV. Gladio opens the driver side door and pauses, "You coming or what?"
He doesn't hesitate.
《 》
The clock on the dash reads that it's only 9:07, the skyline is still just barely lit with the last dregs of a summer sun setting. Gladio seems intent on racing it as he guns it down the interstate, heading for the heart of Insomnia. Noctis has no idea where they're going, but he doesn't really care, either. It's away from the suffocation behind them and that's all that really matters.
He doesn't get to see the city like this very often, without a parade of escorts, with just his Shield at his side. He can almost pretend to be a normal person.
Gladio takes an exit, weaves down busy streets like he's been there all his life. Maybe he has, Noctis realizes he really doesn't know what the other does in his free time. Doesn't really know anything about his Shield other then the time they spend together.
"I have an idea." Gladio glances at him, smiles and takes an abrupt turn, "Want to live a little?"
"Yes." He breathes.
《 》
He can't really see much. The room smells like sweat and just people in general, and there's just so many of them. The lights are dim and he's thankful, for once, how tall and easy to spot Gladio is. He dodges people in very little clothes, they surround him but they don't even look at him.
Like he's just another person in the crowd.
It sets adrenaline into his system. Gladio goes up a set of carpeted stairs, Noctis trails behind, turning to look out behind him. The sea of bodies are barely lit, mingling with drinks, smoke from vapes lifting and vanishing into a haze that's settled over the top of the large room.
He spots a stage, covered with equipment, and bar upon bar of different lights line the ceiling and walls. It's all amazing, all brand new. He's in love already.
"Yo, kid, this way." He scowls at the term and turns to glare at his Shield. The man is standing next to a guy holding open a dark red curtain, gesturing into the room beyond. Intrigued, he lets his annoyance go and heads up to meet them.
Ducking behind the curtain wall he realizes it's not another room, but a balcony of sorts, a long row of curved booths, lined with curtains that could be drawn closed for privacy, they all face out over the sea of people, a bird's eye view of the stage. He leans on the rail to look over the side, down at the sea of bodies. They pay him no mind and it's amazing. He realizes Gladio has put them in the VIP section, hears him order a few drinks.
A rough hand grabs his shoulder and steers him to one of the booths, but he barely sits on the edge, looking out at the crowd, "This is amazing." He breathes.
Gladio laughs, "A little different from your usual scene. Figured you might need the break."
Noctis nods, sits back as a multitude of drinks are dropped off at the table, all different colors and sizes. He picks a red one and pulls it towards himself as Gladio takes a clear one, "Thanks." He means it.
《 》
He's two drinks deep when the lights go out completely and the crowd below starts absolutely screaming. He practically throws himself out of the booth to lean on the railing again, searching the darkness. A single red light flickers on, and a bass line starts, the crowd loses it.
The stage bursts into light, a DJ at the center of the chaos, who raises a hand in greeting to the crowd before dropping into focus on the music. The lights flash and spread, like a wave, lighting up the sea of people. Noctis has never seen anything like it before. He wants to be down there. He swings around, drops into his seat and looks at Gladio, wide-eyed.
Gladio takes a sip of his current drink and points a finger at him and gives him a firm look as he lowers the glass, "Have fun, but please, for the love of the Six, don't get into trouble."
He downs half of a green drink closest to him, it burns and tastes like apples, then grins across the table, "You're with me, how much trouble could I possibly get into?" And then he's up and gone.
《 》
The press of people would probably be panic-inducing if he hadn't had the drinks in his system. Instead, it sends adrenaline coursing through him and reels him in. He's never danced like these people are. It's always been a formal, stuffy affair, but here it's all laughter and screaming and fun.
No one knows who he is, and for the first time in years he feels free. He tilts his head back and copies the moves of the bodies around him, closes his eyes and just feels.
Something grabs his attention, and at first he doesn't realize he's reacting. There's a sweetness in the air, like mint and oranges. It's laced with the other scents, but he's still caught by it. It makes him stop moving, makes him open his eyes and look at the people around him. The scent is fleeting, vanishes then returns, like waves lapping at the edge of his consciousness.
And then the bodies seem to part, draw his attention towards the stage. He sees blonde in the flashing neon, pale skin and a splash of freckles across blushing red cheeks, lips spread into a grin aimed at someone Noctis can't see. The Alpha in him rumbles awake like he's never felt before.
It almost seems like the stranger can sense him, he sees them tense, stopping their dancing to look around. A pretty woman in barely-there clothes leans into them and Noctis feels a growl burning from the depths of his chest.
But the crowd closes in again, and when he pushes through them, the stranger and their scent is gone, a dying trail that folds into the other scents of the room and vanishes.
Noctis stands very still and waits, ignores the bodies attempting to shove him around.
It doesn't matter, the scent doesn't return and Noctis retreats back to Gladio.