So I got in a Mood today and took some mc76 prompts. This one goes out to @padmesgranddaughter for their prompt: ABO/fear
(No nsfw, just kissing and heartbreak.)
***
Jesse is sneaking back from the kitchen’s at God’s own hour of the night when he catches the scent in the hallway. It’s sharp and sweet and he can’t identify it immediately but it compels him to follow.
One turn and then another, and Jesse realizes 1: he’s heading toward the gym and 2: it’s an omega’s fear scent. A familiar one, too, even though there’s something about it that makes it hard to place.
When he gets to the gym, he realizes why. The Strike Commander is kneeling in the middle of the mats, hands clutched in his hair. He’s been working out. His shoulders are bare, flushed with exertion and shining with sweat, and Jesse has one twisting heartbeat of that familiar old agonized want before he realizes the Commander is having a panic attack.
No wonder he didn’t recognize it. Jesse’s never smelled him afraid before, not enough for it to really register. Stressed and upset, sure, but not like this. He hadn’t even known Jack could be like this.
He’s starting forward before he even realizes it. He might’ve been raised in a barn but he’s got more decency than to leave an omega crouching hurt and alone on the floor of a darkened building.
“Hey, sugar, hey.” His hand slips on the meaty, sweaty curve of Jack’s deltoid. He slides it around behind Jack’s shoulder even as Jack jerks to look up at him. Jesse’s pretty sure the glare is for the inappropriate endearments. He doesn’t have a ‘sugar’ kind of relationship with the Strike Commander, but they keep slipping out. “Shhhh, sweetheart, it’s just me. Sorry, sir, I got more respect for authority than that, I swear, but God, lookit you. Are you okay?”
Jack’s been crying. His face is streaked with way too much water for it just to be sweat, his eyes are puffy and red, and Jesse can <em>smell</em> it. Smell the panic and anger on him, rising up so thick from this close that he’s pretty sure he’s kneeling next to a man who would commit murder right this minute if he had the right guy to hand. Jesse’s grateful he’s not it. Jesse wants to help kill whoever’s responsible.
“Jesse.” Instead of answering, Jack just leans into the hug.
Frankly floored, all Jesse can do is tighten his grip and pull Jack in against his chest. Jack makes a choking sound against Jesse’s like he’s about to cry again, and his heart might just split open from tenderness. This man’s so strong. He’s one of Jesse’s heroes. Jack didn’t just give him a chance to make things right, but his example helped Jesse find his way back to rights after he was so goddamn lost for so goddamn long.
Omegas have a mystique. People like to think of them as weak, needing protection. But they’re known to be fierce as mama bears when someone threatens them or theirs. Jack…Jack’s always fought for the whole world. Him and Commander Reyes, they’ve always been like the shield and sword standing between humanity and everything out there that’d wreck it all. Jesse’s had a crush on Jack since forever, since before they ever met or Jesse was old enough to hit on somebody the Commander’s age. He was a gorgeous blond god back then, glowing with the fire of his own conviction. An omega who stood astride the world, fierce and powerful and determined to protect. Who didn’t have a crush on him?
Jesse’s seen him injured, seen him doubt, seen him grieve. But seeing him breaking is like having his own heart carved out of his chest. Jesse realizes after a moment that he’s talking, muttering reassurances and sweetnesses on auto-pilot. "I gotcha, darlin’, it’s okay, you ain’t alone anymore, I’m right here.“ And what help can that be, really? What the fuck could make a man like Jack Morrison thoroughly lose his shit in the gym at ass o’clock in the morning?
Eventually, the tension drains from Jack’s body. The shaking stops, and the muffled sounds. Jack’s scent is still sharp with more stress than Jesse’s ever smelt on anybody, but when Jack pushes away, Jesse lets him go. It feels like being cleaved in two.
Jack isn’t a golden young god anymore. Jesse’s never quite noticed before just how battered and lined with exhaustion he’s got. But he’s still gorgeous and his conviction is as strong as ever. It’s all there right now in his eyes, hitting Jesse like a piledriver when he sits back and looks him straight in the face. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.” He means it. He’d give anything to be the one doing the protecting, to take some of that awful burden from Jack’s shoulders. Hit somebody? Beat the shit out of somebody? <em>Don ‘t</em> beat the shit out of somebody no matter how much they deserve it. Carry a message. Promise not to tell. He’d do any of it.
“Get out of here.” Jesse’s mouth hasn’t finished dropping open to protest before it gets even worse. “Get out of Overwatch, as soon as you can.”
“<em>What?</em>”
Jack takes a huge breath, plants his hands and levers back up to his feet. Jesse follows and reaches out again when Jack wobbles. It’s as much for himself as for Jack. He wants reassurance. Wants Jack to take it back. Overwatch is his home. “Commander? What’re you saying?”
Jack raises a hand and cups one side of Jesse’s face with it. Brushes back a bit of hair. It’s wildly unprofessional. It’s not maternal. Jesse doesn’t know what it is, but he’d die to keep it. “You’re one of the good ones, Jesse. One of the best. There’s nobody in Overwatch I’m prouder of than you. I want you to get out while you still can, before it all comes down and takes you with it. I can’t protect…” His voice breaks.
Jesse lays his hand over Jack’s. Now he gets it, and he almost wishes he didn’t.
They’ve all seen how things are going. Nobody here is dumb enough to miss the news headlines or the political rumors or the way the Commanders all seem to get grayer and more tired with every passing day. None of them have missed how the Commanders keep making calls that end up bringing people in expensive suits into their offices to scream for two hours. They all go along with those calls because they’re the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make ‘em legal.
There’s nobody who hasn’t asked at least once how long it can keep going like this.
He rubs his thumb over the rough knuckles of Jack’s hand, looks into those devastated blue eyes, and does the stupid thing he’s always wanted to. Kisses him. Kisses the Strike Commander of Overwatch. Golden Jack Morrison, the hero’s hero, most beautiful, ferocious and powerful omega in the world.
Hurt Jack Morrison, who’s given all he’s got and then some, who every day scrapes away at his soul to find a few more resources to keep going. Jesse knows. He remembers what it was like, being wounded to the soul, dying by inches every day. He’d give anything, anything to give Jack back to himself the way Jack helped him. But he can’t.
Jack wraps his arms around Jesse and holds on, doesn’t resist when Jesse opens him up and tastes him. He clings tight and there’s a softness in his body, but no passion, and Jesse can’t tell whether that’s exhaustion or politeness. Maybe he’s just trying to give Jesse what he thinks will comfort him, and maybe Jesse’s still a shitty human being, because if so, he’s willing to take it.
When they part, Jack lets his hands fall to his sides and looks away.
“I mean it, Jesse. I want you out. I want you safe. You’re one of the best things any of us ever did, and maybe some of us won’t be around for much longer but the world needs you. People like you. Please. I know it’s not fair, but I’m begging you to go. For me.”
That…that ain’t fair. It’s what he wants to say, but the words won’t come out. His throat feels stopped up. “All y’ever done’s protect people,” he finally manages to whisper.
Jack’s scent is on him. His scent and his sweat, on Jesse’s hands, his face, his cloths. He’s never smelt quite like any other omega. He’s stronger, clearer somehow. Jesse would engrave it on himself if he could, so it could never fade or wash off.
“And all I can do now is send them away.” Jack turns away and heads over to a bench where he’s got his towel and stuff. Then he heads for the door and out the hall, walking tall and strong and never even looking tempted to glance back. Like his breakdown in here didn’t even happen. One more show of strength, this time just for Jesse’s benefit.
Jesse presses his nose into his palm and sniffs. He’ll just have to do his best to try to remember.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2sT47Ub