Author's Notes: The best part about sitting on months-old drabbles is when I unearth them, I don't remember them and it's like reading new IkeMarth content, lol.
P.S. Earth and maruais, thank you dearly for reviewing.
Warnings: All the POV changes. Mind the "-∆POV-" indicators. Starts with Ike and alternates until the chapter ends with Marth.
Pairing(s): Pst, hey, you. Yeah, you. *opens trench coat* Want some IkeMarth?
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
10. (I|M|I|M) Rho: Correlation Coefficient
By SSBBSwords
The warm glow from the lamps only illuminated empty tables, and the silence of the towering stacks weighed on his steps. Gripping one strap of his backpack to heave the bag at a library poltergeist should one appear, he picked his way gingerly around the bookshelves, peeking one way and then another in search of the omega.
He had rounded another corner with mounting concern when he stalled in place, having finally caught sight of Marth, who sat perched on a narrow bench by a south-facing window overlooking the walkway to the physics building, beyond which lay many other STEM-related buildings like the one that housed the laboratory the older man worked at. The other's book sat open and upside-down, propped against Marth's ankle.
The omega must have sensed the second human presence on this floor, because Marth turned away from the glass and the streetlights dotting the campus walkway for safety, expectant gaze settling on his arrested form.
"Hello there," the other greeted, voice set low as to match the ambiance of the empty area.
He swallowed the overwhelming daze threatening to disintegrate his brain cells. His heart was trying to defenestrate itself out the window that the older man had been staring out of. Why the fuck was his crush beautiful beyond reason? How did he get so lucky that his one-sided feelings somehow snagged the other into a bond of great resilience? He should probably feel guilty for that, but for now, he was too busy ogling the person who was stuck with him for the time being.
"Did you finish studying?" Marth asked rhetorically, unfolding from the window seat and coming to a stand as his consciousness lingered over the spun words. "I didn't notice your text."
Oops. Licking his lips as if the motion would wet his dry throat, he murmured, "I forgot, but yeah, uh, I wanna go home." Belatedly realizing how childish he sounded despite the wholehearted truth behind the notion, he stood like a statue as the other approached him, book now closed around the ribbon stemming from the spine. What a fancy library book—to have a length of satin and everything. Was he digressing? He was digressing.
"So this is your favorite place in Emblem?" he heard himself ask and vaguely noted how normal he sounded, dissociating as he was. Oddly enough, his opinion on libraries had suddenly improved now that he had a visual embedded in his memory of Marth reading in one. "Doesn't seem particularly comfy."
"No, it isn't," the other agreed, handing over the book so he could tuck it into his backpack with the rest of his things. "I like the," Marth paused for a beat, unable to find the appropriate word, "stillness, perhaps."
Swinging his bag over his shoulders again, he noticed the omega poring over his face like an especially interesting literary passage. This was not unusual of the older man, and although he wasn't 100% unaffected by the other's scrutiny, he was at least accustomed to playing off the worst of his nerves. "You didn't finish your book?" he asked, question serving both as a roundabout way of asking how Marth was feeling and as a distraction from the pointed stare.
Following him toward the stairs, the other murmured, "No, I was thinking."
He nearly stopped in his tracks to ask what about but thought better of such an abrupt halt in case the shorter man run into him or one of the banisters in the labyrinth structure of stairs. His own brooding never seemed to amount to anything positive or productive, and the two of them had some brutally heavy conversations in the past, but he still trusted Marth to be nothing but transparent with him. "That sounds stressful," he settled on, glancing back at the omega with a crooked smile. He was rewarded with the tinkling of the other's short laugh.
"Yes, a bit."
Marth didn't offer any more information and he didn't want to pry. Reaching the ground floor, they exited the library into the chill of an October night. He was about to shove his hands in his hoodie pocket per habit, only to return to his earlier internal debate. Before he could agonize about it further, he reached for Marth's hand, because he wanted to and he wanted this to be a thing that wasn't overshadowed by reckless insecurity.
He didn't get the best grip on the other's fingers, and his heart plummeted at the instability and odd angle of the hold. However, it was Marth who lifted their clasped hands up, almost analytically rearranging their fingers to rest most comfortably. While his first instinct was to be embarrassed that he couldn't even hold hands correctly, all negativity melted away once he caught sight of the omega's pleased expression, a slow measured exhale evinced by the condensation of vapor blown from the other's parted lips.
"This is nice." He gave Marth's hand a grateful squeeze, just like the jump in his heart at the older man's faint smile and soft but succinct yes in agreement.
Perhaps a couple of minutes had passed as they walked toward the closest shuttle stop, or maybe it was seconds, but the tremulous mixture of giddiness and self-consciousness remained steady. Worried that his hand was getting too clammy for the other to want to continue holding, he shoved their entwined hands into the pocket of his hoodie—for safekeeping.
Momentarily startled, Marth glanced at where their hands had disappeared into. Before the omega could say anything, he blurted out, "It's cold out." He wasn't sure if that was better than pointing out that the older man seemed sensitive to low temperatures, considering how many blankets outfitted their apartment and how many sweaters made up Marth's outfits, but either way, he had said it and there were no takebacks.
Pulled closer to his side with a forearm halfway into his hoodie pocket, the omega gave a simple nod and repeated, "Yes."
-∆POV-
The amount of time that he expended, most of which was unintended, contemplating the change in their relationship status was unreal and, frankly, perturbing when he stopped to think about it. Although he had said the words and (attempted to) integrate actions that seemed to appease his instincts, the hesitance remained.
He was thankful that they were so close that the shifts were minuscule, but then he worried that the change was so infinitesimal that they must be doing this wrong. It wasn't that they hadn't held hands in some shape or form in their long history; they just hadn't done so for this prolonged length of time and under their current context. He liked it, of course, and was subsequently fascinated by how much he liked it. He never spent much time musing about how he would behave in a bond pair, but he didn't expect to be questioning why gravity felt fractional at best. The feeling of floating was the oddest thing about all of this, and he reflexively squeezed Ike's hand for grounding.
The alpha seemed content to operate as usual, and he found days passing and uncertainty growing that they had settled on a page of platonic interaction speckled with bond-related motions. He was having difficulty discerning which boundaries to cross, knowing Ike would likely be amenable but not entirely comfortable. Similarly, the teen seemed to be treading water on all things related to the bond, going only as far as perfunctory scenting, light kisses to innocuous areas of his face like his forehead (who was the older one here?) with occasional shy pecks to his mouth (or hand, cheeky comments about serving princesses notwithstanding), and hand-holding when out in public together.
He wanted to strangle something—presumably not Ike because the damage to the bond might just simultaneously kill him—but something.
Yet his inner turmoil always cycled back to the fact that the teen was simply (and so altruistically) complying with a biochemically-established situation with patented good humor and flexible deportment. He couldn't ask for a better partner in such an unfortunate turn of events.
The headaches that he dealt with now were far from those caused by withdrawal; instead, he had to deal with the cognitive dissonance of wanting to maintain their original relationship when he wasn't sure how the bond would warp the timing of his upcoming heat cycle. Had their bodies not tried to sync months prior, he would have had several weeks following the other's most recent rut. The wrench thrown into the plans was this: they were fostering a bond, and extrapolating from how he had been early by half the difference between cycles, he had about three weeks to figure out what in the world the two of them were doing with each other.
He wanted to nest, he was spiraling so hard. Pursing his lips, he thought of his neglected room—he had commandeered Ike's bed with alarming alacrity and the alpha made no comment on his requisition of the personal space (except maybe asking, "Do you want more blankets?")—and wrestled the compulsion to nest down. He didn't want to deal with how his instincts would react to Ike in his secured area (that was the other's to begin with, though if his instincts really wanted to argue about this, Ike's room was originally his when he lived here with Link).
Instead, he continued to lounge on the couch, watching over the second-year who was methodically labeling a data table for a lab report due the next day. Not wanting to disrupt the other's focus, he browsed through the newsfeed of his tablet, still half-convinced that he would feel better if he sequestered into the bedroom (because at some point, his mind had rewritten the apartment to have only one verifiable bedroom) instead of in the presence of the root cause of his endless mental gymnastics.
Perhaps half an hour later, he flinched from staring at the screen when Ike touched his free hand not stabilizing the device.
"Sorry," the alpha said, carefully intertwining their fingers together like a meditative process. "Are you okay?"
The teen had turned away from the schoolwork on the coffee table, pivoted in such a way that the second-year was kneeling before his feet, his legs tucked beneath the couch throw. Shaken from his reverie and matching Ike's inquisitive tone, he answered, "Yes?"
Bringing their clasped palms closer, the alpha pressed a thoughtful kiss against the back of his hand, near the break of his wrist. He drew in a muted inhale at the firm softness, warmth from skin and breath spreading from the point of contact. "You looked worried," Ike explained, brow furrowed, gaze searching and earnest.
That made sense, but too overcome by the syncopated mess in his chest, he managed to set his tablet aside on the couch so he could instead lean forward to take hold of the other's face. Using both points of contact to pull the alpha toward himself and precision to his advantage, he fit their mouths together, taking the opportunity when Ike's lips parted in surprise to lick the seam of the other's mouth.
Startled from the new sensation, the teen pulled back with wide eyes. "What was that for?" Ike asked, all guileless wonder.
He could make out the alpha's minor blush even though eye strain had blurred some features. "For worrying about me," he decided with a transient smile. Of course the younger man didn't understand the implications of his spontaneous action.
Blinking in time with whatever cognitive computing was happening within, Ike broke into a grin, chin jutting upward in a gesture of bravado. "I worry about you all the time." One hand still intertwined with his, the alpha cupped his other elbow, drawing his arm around the other's neck to bring him back into proximity. "Do it again," Ike demanded, challenge delivered inches away from his lips.
"Make me," he countered, so close that they were recycling air. "I was worried about you first."
Like a spell had broken, the teen jerked back like a sudden epiphany had just struck. "Oh, what? Why?"
Drawing back with a sigh, he reached out to muss the other's wayward locks, mostly to distract himself from the lost mood, unintended as it had been to begin with. What was he trying to do? Seduce the other into some messed up accidental-bond-pair-with-benefits situation? He didn't even know where to start with how dysfunctional his decision-making currently was.
"Just," he paused to collect whatever thoughts he had gathered that weren't untoward and managed as far as, "this bond."
Biting his bottom lip, he still couldn't find the correct words to voice the guilt that ate at him constantly.
-∆POV-
Marth wasn't making much sense, much less complete sentences, which was rare for the usually articulate man. With no trace of preconception, he asked, "What about our bond?" The more he examined the stress lining the omega's posture, the more he dreaded. "What happened? Is it okay? Are you," he stumbled, mind jumping to the worst conclusion he could think of, "withdrawing?" Then he remembered it had something to do with him, and Marth was more worried about him, so he stuttered, "Is it me? Did I mess up?" He had been trying his hardest to maintain whatever routine they had developed as a bond pair—it was kind of platonic, but that was their M.O. so their instincts probably were none the wiser.
"Ah," the older man started, looking thrown from the influx of questions that he hadn't left time in between for answers. "I—well, no, you're fine, Ike." Marth paused, eyes boring into his soul for a moment, before stating with care, "I'm worried for you, because," the intensity of the other's stare faltered as the omega's line of sight cast downward, "because," and he watched, incredulously, as Marth straight-up winced in lieu of finishing the thought.
"I'm starting to freak out," he announced, just to break the tension and to let the older man know that he was this close to outright panic. "What about me and the bond?"
"My cycle is approaching," Marth replied, providing what sounded like the answer to an entirely different question until the other added, "and I don't want you to feel obligated to help."
Huh? At the mention of the other's cycle, he took pause to draw up a mental calendar. He had just finished his several days ago, and if an omega's heat was about every four months to an alpha's three, wouldn't they have about a month to go? Their cycles were off by a couple of weeks last time, so when tacked onto another few, didn't they have over a month to figure this out? Good god, this was the type of math they should teach in schools. Who really needed linear algebra?
If he had approximately four to five weeks, he could probably figure out some way to convince Marth that he could be a capable heat-partner. He had thirty-something days, right? Maybe this time, he would make a PowerPoint presentation for the omega. Ten Reasons Why I'm the Best for This Job…
He had to update his resume anyway.
"Ike, are you all right?" the other asked, concern evident in knitted brows. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. Truly." Eyes fluttering shut whilst taking a measured inhale, Marth added, "I just—I've been overly presumptuous, so, please, I don't want you to feel pressured or, or preoccupy yourself about my—"
"Wait, hold on," he interrupted, coming back to Earth long enough to squeeze the omega's hand to curtail the spiel, "I'm not following." As the other made to maybe reiterate or rephrase, he hurried to clarify himself. "Don't we have," he stumbled on his own words, not sure if he had made a grave offense by assuming this was a team effort (but, wasn't it?), "like, at least a month to, uh," to what? To figure out each other's sexual preferences because who would want to spend three days with someone incompetent? Oh, god, there went his insecurities, rearing their ugly heads.
Taking his trailing off into stride, Marth studied what was probably his consternation-stricken expression and stated with gentle consolation, "I'm accounting for the possibility that the bond hastens my cycle in an attempt to sync with yours."
Those were not the scariest words he had ever heard strung together in his life, but somehow they made his stomach flip. He had even less time to figure this out? Wait, was he trying to get into the other's pants or not? Did he want to be with Marth under the pretense that he was just taking responsibility for an inadvertent bond or because he had been entertaining the fantasy of being more ever since he recognized his pubescent attraction for what it was? His secondary years were rife with teenage awakening and angst, thanks for asking.
"I'll be fine," the omega continued, the soft tone a drastic contrast against the clamor pounding in his ears. "We will be fine," Marth promised. "Withdrawal doesn't happen overnight." After a beat, the other sighed. "You—we should probably prepare you to vacate the apartment at a moment's notice though. An overnight bag of sorts."
Withdrawal was the last worry on his ever-mounting list of things he couldn't organize right now, much less prioritize. The omega wanted him out of the picture the second this was going down? Something deep in him burst forth like pinpoint friction on a chalkboard. He outright shivered.
"I'm so sorry," Marth whispered, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe. "Don't feel bad. You can't help that you don't like me like that."
The cacophonous screeching dropped a notch. He caught the other's resigned gaze and his eyes widened as realization shattered the brain fog. "What?" he stuttered out, not because he didn't hear the words but because somehow he thought his own voice could adulterate his own disbelief.
The older man must have spent tremendous amounts of time outlining arguments because it was like Marth was running through flashcards of debatable points. Sounding like a line memorized straight out of a medical textbook, the omega parroted, "Assisting an alpha or omega through a mating cycle—bonded, mated, or otherwise—is not imperative to the health of—"
He didn't often so blatantly ignore whatever the other was saying, but he deserved a pass on this one, and he unapologetically cut in. "Time out. You just said I don't like you like that." He frowned as Marth adopted a bemused look, perhaps surprised that that was the point he found offensive. "Yeah, rewind," he demanded, shifting back on his heels to more comfortably inspect the omega's imminent argument. Now that the high tide of his emotions had retreated back into the sea, he could see this conversation for what it must be: Marth really had made presumptions—enough to bury him in—and it all hinged on one tiny overlooked fact.
"You don't think I'm attracted to you?" He wasn't brave enough to make a declaration but he was confident enough to at least speak the words into existence and expect confirmation or denial.
The look on the older man's face was one of a kind. It wasn't every day (or any day, really) that he caught Marth so unaware. For now, he would settle for squirreling away this mental picture to join the illustrious club of Most Notable Memories. "That's what this is about?" The omega wasn't saying anything, so he decided to continue filling the lull. "You're keeping me at arms-length because you think I don't want to, to sleep with you?" He could have put that more crassly, but the other already sort of looked at death's door, so he resisted more R-rated language because he was considerate like that.
"But," in addition to looking paler than usual, Marth seemed, for once, wholly unprepared for this turn of events, "but, Ike—"
"Are you about to make my own argument for me?" He bit back the urge to petulantly tack on, Again.
The older man pursed lips like that was exactly what the other was about to do, and Marth's eyes darted away in search of another angle of approach.
"Oh my god," he huffed, reaching for the omega's face. "Look at me."
With unusual levels of skittishness and silence for these notorious topics, Marth did as told, though the narrowing of pretty eyes hinted of something he couldn't quite read, but if he got some flak for ordering the other around to secure happiness for their future, then so be it. He'd take whatever the omega dished out—so long as they were on the same page.
"Listen to me carefully." He watched an imperious glint enter the other's eyes. Good. Marth was listening. "I like you," he began before enunciating methodically with emphasis that brooked no doubt, "like that." And because he knew how powerful the older man's reasoning was, he figured he might as well use every nail he had at his disposal to hammer this in.
"I'm not saying I'd be good at it, but I'd have sex with you right here. On the floor. And on the couch. And on every one of your bazillion blankets." Wide-eyed, the omega looked about to say something (probably, I only have eight), so he barreled on, "So just to be absolutely clear, I'm always, like, at least ten percent turned on around you, unless—uh, I don't know—unless you were in pain or crying or something."
Could he be clearer? He wracked his brain. Maybe Exhibit B should be his fevered dreams—
Marth's voice broke through his deliberation: "Just ten percent?"
He jolted in place as the other squeezed his hand in return. He hadn't realized they hadn't let each other go this entire time. There was no way either of them got through this without nervous sweat, and their interlaced fingers were damp.
"Sounds low," the omega mused, a dreamy levity of sorts reflected in the other's eyes.
"Ten seemed like a non-creepy lower bound, I dunno," he explained, tamping down the rapture that came with witnessing genuine joy scrawl across Marth's face. "So, any questions? I can email you my Works Cited page since I didn't prepare a projector for this."
Marth laughed, and he grinned in return, ridiculously happy at the other's reaction. The omega pulled him close with a lack of finesse that surprised him, but still true to form, Marth captured his mouth with precision in a meltingly warm kiss, like this was a seal on a contract that he delivered without knowing he scripted it. Hell, he would hand over his soul if that's what the older man needed to feel secure.
Prepared this time for the other's tongue that really seemed on a mission to acquire what was left of his life, he met Marth's push, not wanting the omega to fall forward off the couch. God, he should've confessed years ago. He shuddered as the omega withdrew with a light nip to his bottom lip. Okay, maybe not. He could not imagine trying to make sense of any of this as a thirteen-year-old.
"No need. I doubt you plagiarized any of that," Marth whispered with one last peck to his parted lips. "Thank you."
-∆POV-
Despite everything, the conflagration of shock, relief, and elation, among other things he hadn't had the time to parse, was ambivalently short-lived and he was able to return to his day-to-day with the biggest of his concerns lay wayside.
"Oops," Ike said as they rounded the corner of the planter around some university signage and watched the shuttle at the end of the turnabout drive off. "Missed it," was the alpha's redundant follow-up, as absentminded as the second-year's grip on his hand.
"Looks like it," he agreed, already prepared to wait fifteen minutes in November chill. He sipped at his tea from the new travel mug bearing the university insignia, mindful of the liquid temperature even though he long-suspected Ike would cut off an arm before handing him a scalding drink. With the twice-a-week occurrence of after-work tea, the second-year had passed over the tumbler, mumbling something about insulation and one-use disposable cups and holiday merchandise.
The alpha didn't say anything about this being a gift, much less one that might commemorate the change in relationship status, so he thanked the teen as usual and quietly marveled to himself how the temperature of the drink hadn't changed in the ten minutes since he had received it.
"Are you cold?" the other asked, probably one yes from shoving their held hands into the kangaroo pocket like the alpha was prone to doing.
He wasn't overly warm or as warm as he would prefer to be (i.e. indoors and under a blanket), but he wasn't about to send Ike into a tizzy for being unable to change the weather for him.
"I'm all right," he assured, swallowing another mouthful of tea and siphoning the heat as it traveled down to his core.
As if reading his mind, the second-year shoved their hands into the pocket anyway, both hands coming to wrap around his in the tunnel of dense cotton and polyester. "Okay. If it gets too hot, let me know."
Raising an eyebrow at the other's consideration (however unrealistic), he acquiesced with a short nod. "Sure."
"I wouldn't let go," Ike stated conversationally, giving a winsome smile, "but at the very least, I'd apologize."
Laughing, he made to pull his hand out of the other's pocket, but the alpha reined him back, what with both hands still around his. "Oh, true to threat."
"You were testing me?" the second-year mock-gasped. "Well, scratch that line about apologizing."
"Going back on your word, now?" he teased.
"Only on things that don't matter," Ike stated, humorous tone dropping away smoothly.
The other's eyes were dark like the overcast evening sky, and he momentarily wondered if this scene would look different if they were home and not standing near a shuttle stop speckled with other waiting users. Instead, assessing his comfort level with PDA, he motioned the alpha closer by crooking a finger off the thermal mug. "Lean down." Meeting the teen halfway, he left a brief kiss on Ike's mouth, well aware that they appeared to be an infatuated couple (and he couldn't be bothered about it when it was true). "I know." He wasn't sure what incited it, but the next sentence out of his mouth, condensation of water vapor somehow more significant than all other instances prior, "I adore you."
The alpha pulled back only far enough to gaze down at him, fingers still tangling his, the expression of wonder trickling away as Ike processed why these words might have been spoken into the ether. "Yeah? Like, you adore-adore me?" The corner of the teen's mouth lifted, matching the intonation of the more commonly claimed term: Do you like-like me?
Endeared by the other's antics but upholding habit, he stared the other down with his best unimpressed look and intoned, "You're so cute, I want to die."
Guffawing loudly, Ike hunched over laughing, squashing their clasped hands. "Okay," the nineteen-year-old wheezed, "can we agree that we both have the weirdest way of saying we like each other?"
Quickly shushing the other, mostly as to not bother those around them, he tilted his chin up like this topic was beneath him. "I never said I liked you."
"Too late," Ike informed, unruffled by his unconvincing display of impassivity, and grinned ear to ear. "Still not letting go."
-tbc-