Author's Notes: Starts in Marth's POV, switches to Ike because I love (torturing?) that boy, and ends in Marth's POV.
P.S. Asheris, see profile for details.
Warnings: POV changes. Everyone should brush their teeth after this chapter.
Pairing(s): IkeMarth is the condiment that I choose for life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Super Smash Brothers.
Summary: He was sixteen when he presented as an omega. Ike, on the other hand, didn't present at all. [ABO AU] -Yaoi, slash: Ike/Marth-
Delta
8. (M|I|M) Chi: Magnetic Susceptibility
By SSBBSwords
He jerked awake to his phone vibrating his morning alarm. As the device buzzed its way out of his pocket and into the crevice between cushions, he took groggy, sleep-deprived stock of his surroundings. Ike groaned from his lap in drowsy protest.
They must have fallen asleep in the middle of the dryer cycle. It was fortunate that his phone had been on his person.
"Why," the second-year mumbled, legs draped over the arm of the couch, hand coming up to rub at closed eyes. "What? No," the teen slurred, nonsensical. Ike's head lolled to the side, nose brushing the fabric against his stomach.
If he recalled correctly, the young alpha still had today to recuperate, thankfully. The severe withdrawal symptoms must have thrown the other's rut cycle off-kilter, intensified to the first half and wrenched into sickness when the teen's body couldn't handle the separation any longer.
Tired enough to consider calling in sick, he reminded himself he wasn't battling or harboring a contagion. It was more prudent to preserve his personal and sick days for emergencies. Falling into a catnap in front of his computer at work was better than missing the whole day.
"You should go to bed. Rest," he suggested, words sluggish and everything still offline and cold, the warmth propped atop his thigh the only notable exception. "I have work."
"I'll go with you," Ike muttered, immediate and ridiculous and entirely half-asleep.
"No." He carded his fingers through the other's hair. "You need more sleep."
The second-year squinted blearily at nothing before resolutely shutting eyes once more. "I'll sleep under your work desk," which nearly inspired a giggle to escape his throat, except Ike interrupted his amusement with, "I don't want us apart."
They had stuck so close together overnight that distressed instincts were only a distant thought. At the reminder, he frowned. They had a rocky start, sure, but bond pairs were perfectly capable of functioning as individuals, so long as withdrawal wasn't plaguing them.
"I get it," he said, soft and consoling, "but we'll be okay for nine, ten hours." He hoped. He was 70% sure they would be okay. He slid hands beneath the other's head and eased himself out, substituting a pillow in his previously occupied space.
Neck craned, Ike stared, disgruntled, in his general direction, the angle lessened once he stood up and moved within line of sight.
"We'll be okay," he repeated, having nothing to counter the other's doubt-filled silence other than blind insistence.
By the time he was ready to head out the door, Ike had sat up drearily from the couch, massaging awareness in through the temples with one hand.
"You really should go to bed." Resolutely giving his last gentle reminder, he bent to slip his shoes on.
"No sheets. Can I sleep in yours?" The teen stood, swaying a bit in wooziness, before meandering over.
He could understand being too lethargic to wrestle sheets back onto a mattress. "Of course."
"Okay, thanks," Ike whispered, unthinkingly reaching across the gap and grasping his hips, pulling their bodies together.
He felt, rather than saw, the alpha duck down, automatic and instinctual, breath warm against his scent gland, and he was impressed by his own speed to draw back. "Hey, maybe not?"
"What?" the second-year blinked, attempting to shake the stupor. Not comprehending the situation, Ike asked, convinced and hesitant and hopeful, "Scenting?"
He may or may not have turned pink at the other's complete lack of recollection. "Remember how that felt?"
Watching the cogs turn in the alpha's mind was both fascinating and dreadful, especially when realization lit up the other's otherwise sleepy gaze. "I thought it didn't affect you."
He fought the urge to sputter. "It's an erogenous zone and I'm about to leave for work."
Mistake. That was a mistake to admit out loud because Ike smirked and he promptly regretted his life choices.
But almost as quickly as the delight appeared, Ike's expression shifted to thoughtful. "Okay, but," the younger man paused in study the standout mark inches below his ear, "uhm, I don't know what, or why, exactly, but—" The young alpha's jaw tensed, teeth gritted. "I don't want you to walk out that door without, uh, I don't know, something bond-y?"
"Oh," he breathed, understanding clicking into place surprisingly smoothly compared to all they had gone through up until this point. Their scents were solidly mixed, so it wasn't about scenting. It was about maintaining the bond, whatever tattered state it was in.
Before he could doubt himself, he rose on the balls of his feet and pressed a brief kiss on the other's cheek. "How's that?"
Wide-eyed and frozen in place, Ike stared down at him, at his hard-fought schooled expression, at his poorly veiled attempt to swallow trepidation. Perhaps their instincts weren't wrong to attempt a match, because the second-year swallowed audibly. "Uh, nice?" And another heartbeat later, "Actually, really nice?"
Something settled decidedly across the other's boyish features, and suddenly Ike bent swiftly to drop the lightest kiss he had ever known on his mouth.
He startled, and the teen looked torn between terror and curiosity. The latter must have won out, because the other echoed, low and wishful, "How was that?"
There was a flash of ambivalence that took a moment to parse—the flutter of endearment and frisson of surprise were easy to understand—but it was the sinking feeling of disappointment that was unprecedented. "It was," before the disorientation could cut a swath out of his filter, he hurried to assuage his response, "it was alright?"
Distress crossed Ike's face. "Fuck!" The curse spilled from Ike's mouth before the teen could stop it.
"It wasn't bad," he supplied in a rush, unable to stomach watching the other's resolve crumble. He didn't know how to impart that he found the sensation underwhelming because something in him wanted more, wanted something committed and undeniable and maybe a little heavy-handed.
He leaned his weight against Ike's sturdy frame, cupping the alpha's face and coaxing the other down to bridge their difference in height. The teen dutifully followed. "I meant," he whispered, bringing his mouth scant millimeters from the other's, "I think," he breathed, easing his hold in case Ike needed to recoil and call this foolishness off, "I just needed," he pressed his lips against Ike's, slow and deliberate, and resisted the urge to lick his way into the alpha's mouth, "something like that."
He pulled back far enough to catch the second-year's eyes blinking open, dark and dazed, cycling between a daydream and astonishment. The other's mouth opened and shut without a conjured syllable. Finally, rather meekly, the alpha managed, "That was my first kiss?"
One eyebrow ticking upward, he covered his overflowing adoration with a thin veneer of manufactured equanimity. "Technically it was your second." He smiled and wrapped his arms around the other's broad shoulders, appreciating Ike's unchanging hold at the base of his spine. "How was it?" he teased.
"Life-changing," the alpha avowed, forgoing the opportunity for cheek for just one second. "Actually," Ike took a deep breath, bright eyes taking on a sparkle, "can I get another one so I don't spend the rest of the day dwelling on just the one? Y'know, load distribution and all."
Laughing, he squeezed the other, fondness diffusing through his body. "That doesn't make any sense, but fine."
-∆POV-
He was on a cloud.
If he didn't have a stupidly besotted look on, his face had to be broken.
Before finally pulling away to leave for the day, Marth had searched his eyes, quiet and studious, one hand coming up behind the back of his head, holding him in place, before slowly slotting their mouths together, and all thoughts fled. The other's lips were warm, pliant, and just a touch damp—maybe wetted just half a second prior. The omega had held the position only long and short enough to reassure and leave wanting.
His heart was going to shatter through his ribcage.
"Next time, maybe breathe," Marth said softly against his lips when the omega drew back. "I'm off."
Bag swung diagonally across the right shoulder, the older man drifted out of their apartment, looking remarkably unaffected, and he couldn't help wonder if this was a vivid fever-dream. It didn't seem normal to feel like his innards had been put through a grinder and cooked over low heat. He stared blankly at the closed door before jolting in the realization that the other had left without locking up, trusting him to have the wherewithal to act responsibly.
He could barely stay on his two feet—how could the omega expect him to function? A belated bloom of fire shot through him, likely reacting to the replay his mind looped for him, already missing the other's presence and wanting to fill the hollowness with the most recent memories.
Licking his lips absently like he could capture some remnant of Marth, he wound through the apartment layout until he reached the omega's bed. He was a little too keyed up to return to his tranquil state upon first waking up in the other's lap this morning, so he allowed a moment for his instincts to crow excitedly, having obtained permission to sleep on Marth's mattress. He hovered beside the unmade bed, arrested by the core piece of the omega's periodic nest, unquestionably scented, an almost instantaneous hit of comfort, safety, and—
He caught himself right before he shoved his face straight into the middle of the other's rumpled sheets. Forcibly freezing halfway onto the mattress, he stared, disconcerted, at his fingers twisted into a corner of the blanket. There was the slightest hint of something he recognized if only he could get his brain to pull up the rolodex of newfound pheromone combinations he had experienced since his presentation—
Oh.
Blood rushed his face. It was faint, maybe just a fraction of sweat or oil through probably a layer of clothes, but it was similar enough to the initial shift in the omega's hormones before a heat cycle—preheat pheromones—that he could identify it as a marker of arousal.
Well, this was a bed, and he didn't keep track of how often the omega washed these sheets (though he was pretty sure the answer was a lot). Furthermore, who knew how long Marth had been in the apartment during his rut before realizing something was wrong and finding him sick in the shower.
Dumbfounded at his discovery of just how sensitive his senses were even at the tail end of his cycle, he took measured steps away from the other's bed, lest he defile it while sleeping. And he wasn't brazen enough to defile it without then compulsively washing away the evidence, and wouldn't that just be too fucking obvious if the omega came home to fresh sheets everywhere.
My rut's done, my rut's done, he repeated over and over, wanting to take a knife to his instincts, tittering like gleeful schoolyard gossips. He cautiously backed up until his shoulder blade hit the door frame and he eased the door shut upon exiting.
Yeah, he had better put his sheets on his own bed if he wanted to actually get some sleep.
On autopilot, he retrieved the washed items from the dryer, cooled overnight and lacking the coziness of a freshly ended dry cycle, and dumped them in the laundry basket for ease of transportation. After he stocked the folded towels into the closet and encased the appropriate items in pillowcases and covers, he sat heavily on the edge of his bed and engaged in a staring contest at the clothes Marth had thrown into the washing machine somehow faster than he did with whatever materials he had made gross. (The omega had taken the fastest shower he had ever known—to the point that Marth nearly caught him naked anyway, having walked out of his bathroom in a bath towel so quickly that he was just pulling his boxers over the curve of his ass.)
Minus his hoodie (which set off his instincts in another jig of satisfaction for reasons he was too tired to figure out), it was a standard daily outfit, down to the pair of underwear. No, the underwear wasn't the weird part (though maybe his current lengthy examination was, but that wasn't up for debate right now); they had lived together this long and done so much of each other's laundry that clothes were just clothes, but—
He stared harder at the collection of items he had folded. It wasn't strange that Marth tossed the entire sodden bunch into the washing machine, but why hadn't the omega thrown in other items?
Maybe Marth just really hated wet clothes and just chucked the sopping assortment into the machine and retreated into the second bedroom for dry pajamas. Maybe the omega forwent washing other items as to not overwhelm the washing machine. That sounded like it made sense, but it still seemed odd.
Unwilling to enter the other's room now that he had confirmation of what he theoretically knew happened on people's beds, he set the folded pile of clean clothes on his desk and flopped down on his fresh sheets.
Staring at the unblemished ceiling, he could feel his instincts squirming, annoyed that his field of view and bedroom lacked any hint of Marth. But we're bonded, he thought, elation trickling in at the edges of his awareness. They kissed—that meant it was official, right? Well, he also sucked a big-ass hickey over the other's scent gland, but that was a byproduct of circumstance and wholly unplanned. But they kissed—on purpose—so that seemed leagues more important.
He smiled, instincts calming at the recap, and turned on his side, mashing his cheek into his clean pillow.
Things were going to be amazing from here on out.
"Don't forget to breathe," Marth reminded, words mouthed right into his parted lips, as he rested on his back, the omega balanced on hands and knees above his prone position, caging him in.
He mapped the hips suspended above his, relishing the solid angles of bone and muscle under the other's clothes. He really liked the feel of Marth in his hands—the omega wasn't some ephemeral, delicate thing that crumpled in his grip, but an electric, resistant force that he loved to detain.
Not trusting himself to reply coherently, he jutted his chin up enough to capture Marth's mouth before it receded too far to catch. He almost missed, just barely brushing the omega's lips, which curved in a gut-warming smile. The other's fingertips danced up the side of his neck, a breeze across his scent gland, and found purchase between his head and pillow. "How was first base?" his beloved teased, eyes glowing wicked.
"S'okay," he mumbled, not sure why he was trying to act cool when at no point in his entire life had he ever achieved a smidgen of coolness in front of his crush.
"Is this technically second base?" Marth asked, in synchrony with unseen movement, before the sensation of an unwavering palm against the zipper of his jeans made him jack-knife off the bed.
Reaction so violent, he lurched awake with a gasp, the back of his shirt swampy with sweat.
Glancing wildly around his bedroom, temperature of summer humidity, he confusedly took in the irrefutable brightness of afternoon sun and the pile of clothes sitting on his desk. His lit nerves slowly extinguished as he re-gathered reality from his surroundings, clock indicating he had slept more than four hours, which might explain how he shocked himself awake in the middle of a REM cycle.
"Holy shit," he muttered, swinging himself to sitting and allotting the time needed for much-needed body heat dissipation, pulling his shirt away from his chest to assist. He rubbed his face in the crook of his elbow, his forearm coming away with a glistening streak.
Trying his absolute best to shake the lingering effects of the dream, he went straight to his bathroom to splash water on his face. Hairline wet by proximity, he stared at the sink stopper, reflexively willing whatever visuals he had concocted into the recycle bin of his operating system, before he realized the material was actually short-term memory turned long-term memory with a speckle of artistic license.
"It's fine," he assured his own dripping reflection, shaking his head, heedless of the otherwise dry surfaces. "It's fine," he repeated. "I'm fine." So maybe he wouldn't be looking Marth in the eye for a while, so be it. He had lived through worse.
It wasn't quite 3 PM yet and too early for dinner prep. However, undeterred by the concept of time like anyone who had ever mastered procrastination, he found productivity in marinating pork and, upon surveying the contents of the refrigerator, pulling out vegetables that needed to be cooked before their composition became too questionable. Discerning what needed sacrificing, he hacked off the discolored and that-probably-shouldn't-be-squishy areas, intent on roasting the heck out of them, because things typically tasted better after the Maillard reaction.
However, his ability to procrastinate failed to last long enough, so he finally relented to trying to catch up with three days' worth of classes.
He was poring over mystifying slides of equations labeled CL and CS given values for CO, fs, and k (maybe he missed the slide introducing all of this or maybe he was supposed to cross-reference the textbook) when Marth returned home.
"Hey," he greeted, relieved to be interrupted from the frustration of independent learning. He should have surrendered and called Roy an hour into the struggle.
"Hello," the older man replied with a faint smile, pausing by the door to remove shoes and straighten wind-swept bangs, a subconscious tic he noticed with time that probably explained the omega's preternaturally tidy hair. "How are you feeling?"
It wasn't until they had locked gazes that the synopsis of his day rushed back to the forefront of his mind. Abruptly, he coughed, ducking down to hide the burn in his cheeks. Yeah, nope. He totally forgot he was taking a break from looking into Marth's laser-cut eyes. Fuck. Instead, he left his forehead on the coffee table and took a couple of palliative breaths.
"Are you all right?"
He could hear both the omega set the bag on the armchair and raise an eyebrow in concern. Yes, his hearing was that powerful. No, he was not being snarky because he wanted to sink into the floor. "I'm fine," he answered to his crossed legs, content to stay in his self-made blind spot.
Marth must have decided to cut him some slack. "Oh," the other said, upon opening the refrigerator and probably perusing the contents he had prepped earlier. "Nicely done."
He beamed at the floor, enjoying the praise but not trusting himself to look up and feel the full force of the other's stare. Bonded or not, his heart was fucking weak for this man, who was bafflingly unaware of his sensitive cardiovascular system. He heard the other cross the span between refrigerator and couch before he felt the omega's presence by his side.
"I'll take it from here," Marth said, voice warm like caramel. "You study." The other's hand gently found the back of his head, ruffling his hair with such normalcy that wasn't exactly the same anymore that an indescribable ache seized his abdomen.
"Okay, thanks," he said, still directed to his lap and consequentially muffled.
The other gave his utter favorite tinkling laugh. "Cute," Marth murmured before moving away toward the hallway.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his blush burn unchecked until he heard the omega's bathroom door close.
-∆POV-
As he went through all the mundane routines of a day after work, he worried.
Key in hand, he had stood in front of their apartment door, worrying about how to act once he stepped into the shared space. Bag set down, he had trained such pleasantry into his demeanor that Ike, looking close to pulling hair out over lecture slides, gave up on even basic eye contact.
If he just didn't think so much, everything was easier to navigate. The trick, apparently, was to pretend nothing had changed. To rewind past the kissing, past the scenting, past the presentation, to a time when they weren't so aware of each other.
Ironically, it was all his higher cognition giving him strife. Had his instincts not been accustomed to being repressed for most of their existence, they might have had stronger sway, but instead, they seemed satisfied to sit in their metaphorical corner, smugly having lost so many battles in stride but underhandedly winning the war, leaving him still simmering in disbelief and queasiness about bonding.
The pertinent second ingredient in this equation was Ike, who didn't seem to be handling this momentous shift all that well either if the cowed-rabbit-hunched-over-a-laptop posture indicated anything.
Still, these things took time, and he couldn't expect a 180-degree change just because they both agreed to see their inadvertent bond through. Like the alpha had implied the night before, he could also use a manual of sorts on this topic, but no one charted biochemical patterns to supplement relationship development—people just trusted in the process, he supposed.
There were some advantages though, with whatever he had with Ike. The younger man was wonderfully amenable and open to discussion, which should allay his litany of free-flowing concerns, but this was actually a root of his problems. If he searched their history, he couldn't think of one significant moment when Ike had told him 'no.' Not one.
He also couldn't think of an occasion when he demanded something so radical that Ike had to take a hard stance of disagreement, but that was neither here nor there. He considered bonding to be a long-term agreement between both parties and even weighted it toward mating potential for himself—and if that wasn't the greatest demand he would ever ask of Ike, he truly had no grasp on what accounted for major decisions in one's life.
At the end of the day, he was left with the sick feeling that Ike had taken the path of least resistance. So their instincts decided to couple? No big deal. Accidental bond formation? Whatever. Withdrawal upon attempting to undo what had been done? Ugh, the worst.
Result, he thought numbly, simulating Ike's jovial tone, guess we're dating now. Cool.
Which was not cool at all, because he would be guilty of expropriating the younger man's life. However long the alpha entertained the maintenance of the bond, those were nonrefundable years. He did not do things halfway, nor was he particularly good at backtracking, so if (when?) Ike lost interest in their bond, he was destined to live off an interminable IV of morphine because his heart would be crushed.
They drifted through dinner, both estimably and distressingly normal, and settled in the living room together, reminiscent of their withdrawal-developed custom. He had gotten ready for bed with the intent of finishing a book while the other studied, but he ended up lulled asleep on the couch, Ike's back resting against the seat and guaranteed to be imprinted by welt lines given the length of the lecture recordings. He was nudged awake by the foreign sensation of touch beneath his shoulders and knees.
Eyes blinking open, he met the other's wide-eyed, caught-on stare. The alpha gave half a smile, sheepish. "Hi."
Curiosity chased off drowsiness as he tentatively sat up. "What are you doing?" he asked, noting that one of Ike's arms remained beneath the bridge of his legs.
"I, uhm," the teen hesitated, sort of hunched over the couch, one knee pushed into the cushions for leverage. "I was going to move you."
"I've slept here before."
"Yeah, I know," Ike replied quickly. "I just—I dunno—thought maybe you'd be more comfortable in, uh, your bed? Sorry, I didn't mean to, uhm, wake you."
Taking in the other's cautious posture, he asked, a little intrigued and a little endeared, "Were you planning to carry me there?"
All the lights in the living room were on because Ike was studying, so there was no missing the flush that overtook the other's face. "Yes?"
The warm butterflies trapped inside bat their wings with renewed fervor. He reached over to gently thumb the pink off the alpha's cheekbone. "Well, don't let me stop you."
A nervous laugh burst out of the teen. "I thought you'd be mad."
Shrugging with nonchalance that he didn't feel, he gestured for Ike to come closer and wrapped both arms around the other's neck, letting the second-year cradle him behind his back and under his legs. He valiantly ignored the obvious demonstration of strength and contraction of muscle beneath all points of contact. "Only if you drop me."
"I work out," the alpha huffed in faux offense.
"Oh, I know."
"It's fun."
"If you say so." He loosened his embrace around Ike, now reassured that the teen really did have him securely held. Even though he was teasing the second-year, he was fully convinced that no matter how much he squirmed, the alpha had the entirety of his weight supported. He wanted to purr. Instead, he leaned toward the other's ear to quietly say, "Ike." He felt the alpha's arms lock even tighter against his body. Cute. Smirk hidden from Ike's view, he threw consideration and insecurity out the window and asked, "Can I sleep in your bed?"
They came to a grinding halt in the middle of the hallway. He wouldn't be insulted if denied; he understood the need to protect one's personal space, and it took indefinite time to warm up to someone else entering an area where the bulk of one's mating cycle was spent.
"Why?" the teen managed, the single syllable breaking with befuddlement but not opposition.
"I'll miss you otherwise," he admitted, giving into habit and running his fingers through the other's fluffy hair. His instincts balked at the idea of sleeping alone on his own bed with no hint of the alpha.
"Yeah, okay," Ike answered in a rush, redirecting steps to their new destination. "I mean, you always can. You don't have to ask."
As the second-year set him down on the bed and then headed to the bathroom, he pulled a pillow beneath his head and ensconced himself in the other's blanket. Though the sheets had been washed the night before, he had a deep innate appreciation for the alpha's scent, likely from a nap Ike had taken earlier in the day.
This was home.
-tbc-