DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers – Hidekaz Himaruya
THE CALL OF THE WILD
RENEGADES
EPILOGUE
THE ISLES
SEPTEMBER
You're a bloody clan-whelp?" Scott gaped. "My wee nephews have a clan-whelp's blood in them? Ah, fuck."
Francis frowned. He glanced between Scott and Owen in misunderstanding, feeling as if he ought to be insulted but didn't know why. "My Papa was the Clan Leader. Is that a bad thing?" he asked. Beside him, Liam and Patrick snickered in mockery. He eyed them suspiciously, but focused on the two eldest. "I was given the very best of everything, you know. I've always been strong, always healthy. I was taught by the clan's most talented hunters and scholars," he added in an attempt to prove his worth. "My Papa taught me to lead."
"I'm sure he did," said Scott condescendingly. "I'm sure you're a very gifted little clan-whelp, Mainlander."
Owen snorted.
Francis rolled his eyes and muttered in French.
"Sod-off," said Arthur, plopping two-month-old Alfred into Owen's outstretched arms. "Just because you're the pack-leader now, Scott, doesn't mean you can be a gobshite to everyone. Besides, you'll need an advisor, a second-in-command. Who better than someone with experience leading?"
"You're suggesting him?" Scott nodded at Francis, who shrugged casually. "Awe. Now isn't that the sweetest darn thing? An Omega standing up for his Alpha. I never would've guessed, little brother. You going to let him fight all your battles for you, Mainlander?" He tossed Francis a roasted potato, teasing him.
Arthur sighed in defeat. "Well, I warned you," he told Francis. Matthew giggled. Arthur handed him to Scott. "Don't feed him potatoes," he said, pointing in accusation. Scott held the little pup one-handed as he ate his meal. He bobbed his head in a yeah-yeah fashion. Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His cheeks were already flushed, which made the green look exceptionally bright. His movements were sluggish. The Alphas might have mistaken it for fatigue if the Omega's scent wasn't so pungent. "Owen, don't let Scott or the twins give my pups anything but milk," he said as Francis readied to leave the house. Owen saluted in good-faith. Liam and Patrick smirked impishly. "And don't keep them up too late or they'll get grumpy. Make sure they both have a bath before going to bed." Francis wrapped a guiding arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him toward the door, but Arthur barely acknowledged it. He kept talking: "Alfred will be fine, he sleeps like a rock, but Matthew needs something to sleep with; Scott's tartan, or Francis' shirt," he said in example. "And both of them like to be sung to, or talked to sleep. They just like to hear—your—voice—!" he called as he fought Francis, who tugged insistently.
Finally, Francis gave up and scooped Arthur off his feet.
"Don't worry, Alfred and Mathieu will be fine," he promised. "I'll be back later to check on them. We're going now," he said, waving over-the-shoulder to the Kirkland Alphas. Several sultry innuendos were cut-off when he kicked the door closed behind him.
"Put me down," said Arthur. He biffed Francis over the head.
Francis grinned. "No. I'm supposed to carry you over the threshold, aren't I, to officially symbolize that I've claimed you as mine?"
Arthur scoffed, but his cheeks heated in embarrassment. "Bloody git," he muttered.
They reached the old storehouse and Francis stopped. It had been over a year since Arthur's last Heat, yet his sweet scent still clung to every fibre, despite the frequently laundered furs and linens. Arthur felt Francis' body stiffen, and then involuntarily shiver in anticipation as his nostrils flared, breathing in the Omega's scent. Arthur's heart-rate increased in reply. He felt hot. The sensation that followed was immediate and familiar, even if he hadn't experienced it in such a long time. But the last time he had—It was with you. He looked at Francis. Back then he would have given anything for an Alpha to mate him—any Alpha; he just needed relief—but now he felt nervous. His body was ready. It wanted to be mated, especially after so long. This is going to be intense, he knew. He could already feel a tight knot of Heat-induced fervor building inside of him, making him sweat. A soft gasp escaped him; his voice shook. He clutched Francis, drawn to the Alpha's equally-eager body. Oh, gods. He looks so good. He smells so good. He feels so good. He bit his lip. Yes, his body was ready. But that's not what made him hesitate. It was what would happen afterward. They already had consent from the pack-leader—Scott—to be pair-bonded. The only step left was to mate, then they would be a legal couple by clan-law. There would be no going back for either of them. They would belong only to each other, for better or worse.
"Are you scared?" Francis asked.
Arthur swallowed. "A little," he admitted.
Francis set Arthur on his feet. (The Omega nearly collapsed.) Then he turned him so they were standing face-to-face. "Don't be," he said. His face was open and honest, his sapphire-blue eyes revealing a secret vulnerability that Arthur had misinterpreted before. His touch, when he took the Omega's hands, was tender but strong. Seriously, he said: "I'm not going to hurt you." The soft undertone in his voice implied it as more than a physical hurt. The Omega heard a confession in it. "I'm not going to leave you, Arthur, no matter what happens. You're my family, now. You and Alfred and Mathieu. I belong with you." His eyes momentarily lowered to the satin-blue ribbon that Arthur wore in a braided loop around his neck, a symbol of their union. Francis had done everything he was supposed to do, albeit backwards: he had mated and impregnated Arthur, then courted him, then sworn himself to him for life. He was kind and he was patient. He no longer got annoyed at Arthur's shyness or hesitance; Arthur, who had barely returned any form of intimacy since their first night together as a family. The Alpha just repeated the same steadfast promise over-and-over until it had become a nightly ritual. They would lie quietly together in bed, in the bedchamber they now shared in the pack-leader's large house—now the Kirkland house—and Francis would say: I love you.
He said it now, re-capturing the Omega's gaze:
"Je t'aime, Arthur."
"I-I—I love you, too."
The words were out before Arthur could stop them, but as soon as he saw the answering smile on Francis' face, he knew that they were true. They had been true for a long time.
"I love you," he repeated, testing it. He had never spoken them aloud to anyone except Alfred and Matthew. The Kirklands were not a verbally affectionate family. It tasted foreign, but not bad. In fact, his lips curled into a smile as he reached up to hold Francis, winding his arms around the Alpha's neck. If there was ever a good time to confess his feelings, it was now.
"I'm glad that it was you," he said, gazing deeply into the gorgeous blue eyes that Alfred alone had inherited. "I don't want anyone else. I never did.
"I love you, Francis."
In reply, Francis kissed him. His lips were warm and velvety-soft and curled into a blissful smile that Arthur happily returned. He never could have imagined being so happy.
Then the Alpha scooped the Omega into his arms and entered the storehouse.
