Chapter Text
Drop (v.)
- let or make (something) fall vertically.
- fall vertically.
- A coma-like or panicked feral state that an omega can go into when in extreme situations of loss, confusion, or pain. It can be life threatening if left alone for too long and usually only a mate or close pack member to the omega can pull them out.
Jason’s mouth was open, but he couldn’t hear any screaming any longer. He couldn’t hear anything. He dug his hands through the dirt, the scent of the forest drowned by the memory and the scent of panic, white-hot…
Steve Harrington had looked between him and the pamphlet with total confusion, “You think I need this?”
In Jason’s memory, the pamphlet was lurid, bright poppy red and neon lime. The title, ‘How to Avoid Homosexual Temptation,’ was burned into the back of his eyeballs.
Jason sucked in a breath, inhaling his own scream. His clothing burned, rasped against his skin in a way that was almost intolerable.
Jason remembered the way he had smiled then with a burning embarrassment, “I see the way that you and Hargrove look at each other. I know it can be tempting-”
Harrington’s eyes had narrowed, “You know?”
Jason felt his blood pounding in his ears. He was breathing, he must be breathing because he thought he was still screaming.
Harrington had looked at Hargrove, obliviously tying his shoelaces across the gym. Jason had considered approaching Hargrove first, trying to talk omega to omega. But Hargrove wasn’t a regular omega, and to be frank, he kind of made Jason a little panicked.
Harrington was a clean cut alpha, all-American. And they’d known each other for ages, he was easy to talk to, and kind.
But that wasn’t important, if Harrington was going to throw away everything for someone like Hargrove. Harrington should be with someone… normal. Some pretty girl like Tammy Thompson or Chrissy Cunningham, a soft omega.
Hargrove was rough. Mean. He’d petitioned to play on the basketball team with all the alphas and he was… good. Better than many of the alphas. Hargrove had a pin on his backpack for the Omega Liberation Movement, a collar that was ripped in two.
Omegas weren’t supposed to do such things.
Jason’s shoulder hit the dirt and he curled in on himself.
Harrington’s eyes had lingered on Hargrove, seeing something that maybe Jason would never be able to see. Because Jason wasn’t gay. Harrington had bitten his lip then, pink and plump…
He wasn’t. Jason wasn’t gay.
Of course he could see what Hargrove might see in Harrington. All that good looking alphaness in a very pretty package. Hargrove didn’t even know how nice Steve could be, how cool and calm and collected.
Jason’s hands tore uselessly at his skin, his clothes, searching for something he couldn’t even name. The screams coming out of his mouth were nothing to the screams inside his head.
Steve had handed the pamphlet back, “Hey. Uh. I gotta go do something, okay? Talk to you later, man.”
And then he’d smiled at Jason, in a weird, strained way.
Jason’s skin itched. His tongue itched. His brain itched. He felt like he was going to turn inside out.
And then there were hands on him, calloused, rasping hands and he screamed harder, hard enough to break through his own ringing head. But his body was frozen, and he wanted to fight, he wanted to pull away.
Whoever they were didn’t seem to mind the screaming, or the inert, rigid body that Jason was barely inhabiting. They pulled him into a sitting position, and tucked his face against their neck, right by their gland.
An alpha, with long soft hair. A girl, maybe. That was a soothing thought, because this girl smelled lovely, a familiar smell that cut through the panic clogging his nose. She smelled terrific, better than anyone else, and in the back of his mind his omega pinged, trying to get his attention through the screaming and the fury.
“Shh, omega,” The voice was too low to be a girl’s, but it was soft and soothing. Jason went limp, head resting on the alpha’s throat, breathing in the sticky scent, familiar and yet so distant.
No one came out here normally. There was a time after Jason’s grandmother died that he would go into a drop very suddenly and without warning. He couldn’t go home, where his father didn’t tolerate dropping. After all, what did he have to really be upset over? He had a house, two loving parents, food on the table, a good church and good grades. He was a cheerleader for fuck’s sake. And his dad was looking to find him a proper alpha wife. Jason had everything, everything in the world.
Drops were private, something to be handled in private. And this patch of woods behind the middle school was normally private, a deep slope that cut into a smattering of dead or dying trees usually kept wandering kids or hiking weirdos away.
There was no reason for an alpha to be here, let alone holding him, pressing him close even though Jason stank of fear and humiliation and dirt and rot.
Whoever they were, they started cradling Jason’s stiff form and humming softly like you would to a child. A man’s voice, but that thought was distant to Jason now.
Maybe that’s what he was, a child. Naive to think that Harrington would listen when Hargrove had clearly bewitched him with his pretty eyes and long curls. Jason used to have long hair, pretty and soft. But then his dad…
“Spare the rod,” He could hear his dad’s words as clear as if he was right next to them.
Something in Jason's scent must have spiked, because the alpha growled low in his throat and reached up, brushing lightly against the skin at the nape of Jason’s neck. If he still had his long hair he wouldn’t be able to feel this. The alpha’s callouses rasped a little but Jason didn’t mind.
“Carver, it’s okay,” The Alpha whispered, “You’re okay.”
He wanted to push back, feeling acrid anger curdle the fear in his scent, but he couldn’t move. Instead the alpha rubbed soothingly across the bare nape of his neck.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, kay? Just gonna sit with you a while,” The voice was soft and soothing, “Not gonna hurt you, promise.”
Dropping was supposed to keep alphas away, not draw them closer. He was supposed to get to be alone. To just…
The hand on his nape didn't cease rubbing in soft circles, and the alpha purred, actually purred. Like Jason’d pleased him somehow.
Jason took stock of his body and realized his hands had moved, curling into denim that feels strange. A jacket, the alpha was wearing a jacket. And he smelled like something strange too, sticky and sour, but sweet under that, sweet like fresh corn off the field. A familiar scent, and yet Jason’s eyes could still only see the space behind them, couldn’t latch onto anything.
The alpha tucked his legs around Jason, not pressing their bodies together but encasing Jason inside a little space, and he instantly felt warmed, better. When the drops had been really bad, more frequent even than now, he used to leave a blanket out here to try and nest and make it through. But this was better. He’s sheltered and the hand on his nape was still gentle and light.
Jason hadn’t been touched in a long time.
Then… the alpha started to hum more purposefully.
It wasn't a song that Jason could recognize but the tone was so familiar. He knew that voice, it normally made the hair on the back of Jason's neck stand up. But that wasn't possible now, not frozen like he was.
Eddie Munson was cradling his head with a large warm hand and humming nonsense to him.
His brain short circuited on that, caught him up in a trap of his own overwhelmed emotions and the shock, and surprise of it all. Munson would tell someone. He could lead his friends here, where Jason was vulnerable, he could hurt him, he could…
Jason blacked out, and when he came to, the light was lower in the sky and Munson was still there, curled around him, speaking quietly.
It took Jason several moments to parse out the words, not that they make any sense.
“Thorin has a brother and sister, but we know very little about them. And it's kind of unfair because man, that guy has had it really hard, and they could have helped out….”
Munson was high. He had to be. The thought relaxed a knot of worry deep in Jason’s stomach.
He must have confused Jason with someone else, or he’s on one of those heavy drugs, where people think they see melting trees or whatever. Munson wouldn’t remember this, not in any way that mattered. And who would believe him? Jason Carver didn’t go into drops. He was the picture of omega health, sporty and pretty and all-American.
This shriveled thing he was on the forest floor wasn’t Jason Carver. It was something else. And so he could cling a little to Munson’s denim jacket, for no reason at all. Because Munson wouldn’t remember. His omega pinged him again as he curled into the warmth that Munson offered, but he ignored it.
“One died, one bore the nephews he takes on a quest, but we don't know them, only hints about them,” Munson moved his head, and his hair slid across Jason’s face, soaking him in that fresh field of corn scent. Munson smelled like home, like driving with the windows down past the farms on the edge of town. “But his father and grandfather, like obviously, there’s a bunch about that. Thorin is forced to leave Erebor and save his people while his grandfather was mad and his father was in despair. So I guess… maybe his siblings stayed behind.”
Munson was still rubbing the back of Jason’s neck. And no one would know, not even the person doing it, so Jason trilled, just the tiniest thing, and clung closer.
The words stuttered in Munson’s throat, and then continued, and the hand at the back of Jason’s neck froze, then pressed him closer.
It had been so long since Jason had been touched like this. Not being touched for cheer, or a thoughtless brush in the hallway. Touched, hands on him sure and steady. In health class they said often that Omegas needed this, that regular familiar touch is good for mental health.
But Jason’s family was old fashioned. Jason was meant for his future wife, his alpha. Other touches would be inappropriate. And so, since his first heat, he hasn’t been touched like this. He didn’t need it. He could wait, and stay pure. He could be a good omega.
Be good for him, such a kind alpha to hold you and pet you. So kind, and he smells so good.
A familiar touch was supposed to be good, so Munson’s unfamiliar one shouldn’t count against Jason. Jason knew him, but not like this, not like rings pressing into skin and words so close that the vibrations shake across Jason’s clammy skin.
He knew he’d burn with shame later. He let an alpha, not his alpha, touch him, hold him, no matter how innocent it was. Munson wasn’t even touching his glands on his neck,not scenting him. He was carefully sticking to the same spot, at the nape, his chest against Jason’s shoulder. One arm was slung around Jason’s back, but only just touching his upper arm.
Jason could panic about all of this later. But, Jason was slowly coming back to himself in this warm and unfamiliar safety and he trilled again as he did, hands twitching. His Omega pinged at the back of his mind once more, but he ignored it. His muscles unlocked slowly, but he stayed stiff, hands still clinging to Munson’s jacket, not wanting the moment to end.
The bitter fear and anxiety smell abated in the air, chased by Jason’s own scent, clean and sweet like sheets hung on the line, still warm from the sunlight. His mind cleared a little, anxiety soothing out into contentment.
Munson pulled Jason back from his neck and Jason nearly whined, his fingers digging into the jacket.
Munson looked at him, at last, “You good?”
His brown eyes were clear, pupils dilated but not to a huge degree, and his mouth was pulled up in a tentative smile.
Shit. Munson wasn’t high. Well, maybe he was at the start, but he wasn't anymore. His eyes were knowing and steady, and his finger brushed the back of Jason’s neck. Familiar.
Jason shoved Munson back, acrid fear turning his scent smoky and sharp again, like burning linen. Adrenaline surged through Jason’s system in a rush, and he teetered unsteadily for a moment, another drop threatening.
But Jason was used to it, could put off a drop for hours, even if it made his knees wobbly and his vision blurry.
He stumbled to his feet, barely dusting the dirt off his knees before he started running up the sharp incline that was supposed to protect his spot.
“Carver, wait-”
But Jason was fast, faster than any scrawny alpha with too-long hair. The forest streaked by, leaves crunching under Jason’s sneakers. He ran hard, his still-choked throat burning as he rushed back to the school and into the lot, nearly yanking the door off his jeep in his zeal to get away. He met his own eyes in the rearview, noting with horror the tracks of brown mascara, the only cosmetics his dad lets him wear, running down his cheeks.
Munson didn’t follow, but he didn't have to. He would finally have something to lord over Jason, he could look at him in the hallway with that devilish smirk and know that this made Jason impure. That he had touched Jason and Jason had trilled and let him. An omega in a drop could be a dangerous thing, could turn feral at the drop of a hat. But Jason hadn’t done anything to stop it, didn’t fight back. God help him, he had clung closer. He was weak, pathetic and weak, unable to make it through a month without a drop. Maybe Munson would even ask around, and Harrington would tell him that Jason… that Jason…
That there was a reason why Jason’s been waiting so long for his alpha. Why he went on dates with female alphas and never seemed to be good enough. There’s a reason why Jason didn’t deserve to be touched like that.
He gasped, hands shaking, chest heaving, and peeled out of the lot, fighting down the urge to drive irresponsibly, recklessly, maybe even to cause a crash…
When he drove away, the scent faded, that sweet corn smell. Munson, with all of his posturing about leaving town, would hate that he smelled Indiana grown. Jason could smell it fading rapidly on his skin, on his face where it had been pressed to Eddie’s neck, and he wanted to cry.
The next day, Jason rolled up to the school with dread curdling his stomach. But no one even glanced his way, not even Carol Perkins, who was a shark with gossip. He exited his jeep, smoothing a hand over his pale pink sweater, trying to school his scent into something more neutral and appropriate.
“Hey,” Someone sidled up next to him and he nearly collapsed with relief when he saw Chrissy, “Have you heard the news?”
“What news?” Jason threw his backpack over his shoulder.
“Steve Harrington asked Billy Hargrove out,” Chrissy’s eyes were round and huge, “And Billy turned him down.”
“Billy,” Jason’s brow furrowed, “Turned him down? I mean. He should have. Two guys together that’s not… not right to do. Did he say why?”
An expression streaked across her face but it was buried when she beamed over Jason’s shoulder, “Patrick!”
“Hey, Chris,” Patrick McKinley carefully stepped around Jason, not even his scent daring to touch the omega’s, and slid an arm over Chrissy’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple, “What are you guys talking about?”
“Billy Hargrove turning down Steve Harrington,” Chrissy looked up at Patrick with such moonstruck eyes, it made Jason’s stomach start to cramp. “How did you sleep?”
“Alright,” Patrick shrugged, “I was there when he did it, after basketball practice. Hargrove was really loud about it, how he wasn’t there to just roll over for any alpha, but…”
“But?” Jason hated how his voice sounded, plaintive and begging.
“After that I saw them talking at Harrington’s car,” Patrick shrugged, his huge letterman’s jacket exaggerating the motion, “Looked awfully cozy. Maybe they had a misunderstanding.”
Jason’s stomach was really bad. Maybe he ought to have stayed home. His nest had been so hard to leave that morning. It had been a while since his dad had torn out his nest in punishment, and it was getting really cozy. He had come right home and nested carefully, like he was about to bring home an alpha to meet his parents. But he’d reasoned that he had just needed to make himself feel really safe, after that terrible ordeal with Munson.
He reached up for the back of his neck, wondering if maybe the nesting meant he was close to a heat. But as soon as his fingers touched down, he felt his ears grow hot. He swore he could smell Indiana corn in the breeze, but when he looked around there was no van in sight. There was, however, a blue Camero rumbling into the lot, with a smiling Steve Harrington in the passenger’s seat.
It was like something out of a movie, the both of them rising out of the low seats as if in slow motion. Hargrove was driving his alpha around. And that was just the start of how improper they were. They both walked around the car together, Hargrove’s little sister riding away with a smile on her face, and Harrington put his arm around Hargrove’s waist, pressed a kiss to Hargrove’s cheek. Something sick and awful curled in Jason’s stomach, and before he could suppress it, the smell of burning linen filled the air.
The student he was supposed to tutor’s name was almost impossible to read, just an inky smudge. Same with the subject he was supposed to be helping them with. So Jason just walked dutifully over to their assigned table, waving to the other key club members, before taking a seat.
Free period was almost his last class, and despite all his worries, the day hasn’t yet turned sour. Munson had either told no one, or the people he told hadn’t listened. Which wasn’t surprising, actually. Who would believe Jason Carver, captain of the cheerleading squad, golden omega of the school, would let Eddie Munson comfort him? It almost sounded like a joke to Jason at this point, except when he rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck, or caught a glimpse of Billy Hargrove’s satisfied little smirk all over school. Hargove snared the best alpha in town… it didn’t make sense.
And of course as for the worst alpha in town… Jason’s head was still foggy when he tried to parse out what had happened with Munson. And why. Anger, that was easy to hold on to, but there was some other feeling simmering in his stomach. He should feel violated, righteous in his anger. But his omega kept pinging, bringing his mind back to that calming scent, to the respectful way Munson had touched him, the way he’d felt compelled to trill and move closer rather than move away.
Jason rubbed a finger along the nape of his neck, trying to soothe the strange and acute ache on his skin. He vaguely worried last night about Omega Isolation Syndrome. But that was hysterical, too dramatic. Maybe Jason was just stifled from being brought out of his drop too early. Maybe he should induce another. It wouldn’t be hard-
“Sorry! Sorry!” A deflated black backpack slammed into the table in front of Jason, pulling him out of his reverie. “I tried to get here in time but Ms. French wanted to talk after class and I told her I had tutoring-”
The words dried up as soon as Jason turned to look up at him. Munson swallowed audibly, deflating slightly under Jason’s gaze.
“Munson.”
“Carver. H-how are you doing?”
It wasn’t even the pitying tone that got Jason. It was the scent, that sweet cornfield smell, tilled earth and summer sunshine and just a trailing hint of weed. It hit Jason like a brick wall, and if he hadn’t been already seated, he would have crumpled to his knees.
Jason bared the edge of one of his small fangs, “I should have guessed this would be your handwriting.”
He flung the notecard on the table, ignoring Munson’s question.
“Oh. Yeah,” Munson shrugged, “Look, I can ask to switch-”
Jason scowled, “Why would you do that?”
It was as much a challenge as it was a threat. Jason raised his chin, refusing to be cowed. Act like it didn’t happen, freak. Because it didn’t. Whatever you think you know, you don’t.
Munson’s tongue touched his cupid’s bow briefly before he pressed his lips together, “You any good at history?”
Jason raised one brow, “Take a seat.”
Munson brushed at his long hair, dragging it over one shoulder and blasting Jason with his undiluted scent. He would have long hair, practically an omega.
Long hair that brushed my cheeks when he held me, and took care of me. He’s a good alpha. Gentle. Like Harrington. Would hold me when I was lonely-
Jason slammed his history book on the desk, trying to ignore the wave of embarrassed heat that was surely visible on his face and in his scent.
“How is it you can remember the history of the dwarves of middle earth, but you’re struggling in real history?” Jason frowned.
Munson just blinked at him, “You know about middle earth?”
Jason scowled, “They’re like hugely famous books. I may be blonde, but I’m not dumb.”
He also doesn’t mention, because he doesn’t want to, that if he’d never heard of middle earth before he’d certainly gotten an earful yesterday in Munson’s arms.
Eddie leaned back in his chair, “I don’t believe it. This is just some tutor trick to make me memorize the dates and names of the people involved in the omega civil uprising.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Freak,” Jason smirked, “You should learn the dates of the omega civil uprising because it’s on the test.”
“Yeah, but the dates aren’t even what matters about it,” Munson rolls his eyes. “It’s just a meaningless way for Mr Davies to add more test answers and fail people for no reason.”
Jason shrugged, “What’s not important about the dates? Just memorize them and move on.”
“You don’t need to know the dates to know that it’s kind of important that omegas in America can inherit property,” Munson tosses his hair over his shoulder. “And he didn’t even include Emily North in the list of prominent omegas. Probably because she was unmated and Black.”
“Okay, if you know all this, why are you even having me tutor you?” Jason scowled, a little growl of omega defiance rising at the back of his throat that he tried to suppress with a cough. Omegas were supposed to be sweet and kind to alphas, obsequious and obliging. Even if the alpha in question was acting like a grade-A knothead.
Munson’s shoulders slumped, “Because… I need to ace the next two tests or I’m going to have to retake the year.”
It wasn’t really Jason’s problem. Jason would be graduated, probably by then his dad would have put out the word to their sister churches and found Jason an acceptable female alpha. By the time Munson graduated, Jason could have a pup on the way.
He found that this was not actually helping him to ignore the waves of disappointed and frustrated alpha scent wafting his way, nor the drive to soothe and coddle.
Climb into his lap, and scent him. Alpha is worried, but you can help.
Jason cleared his throat, “Look. You get two weeks tutoring, every other day. I’ll do my best. But you gotta meet me halfway, ok? It’s not like I’m in charge of what’s on the test.”
Munson watched for a moment, brown eyes boring into Jason’s blushing face.
“Tell me one Lord of the Rings thing,” A slow smile spread over the alpha’s face, and his long fangs flashed, sending Jason’s omega into a talespin. Munson wasn't much of an alpha, with his strange long hair and weird clothes. But his fangs looked lethal. Jason shivered at the thought. “Anything. Names and dates.”
Jason ran his tongue along his own small fang, debating. At least Munson hadn’t brought up yesterday again. Maybe Munson thought his already sullied reputation wouldn’t be enhanced by being known for ruining Jason Carver.
You wish he had ruined you, Jason’s omega whispered traitorously. But that couldn’t be true. Jason hadn’t wanted that. Jason wanted to be good, and pure. He wanted to find a female alpha, he did.
Jason faced the table. Sometime long ago, someone had carved initials into a heart, JH + JM. He ran a finger over it.
“‘Legolas Greenleaf long under tree, In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea! If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.'” Jason recited quietly.
He glanced up when Munson didn’t say anything, only to get hit with possibly the worst thing for him at that moment. A wave of alpha approval, sweet as sunshine on his face, that set off another desperate craving for touch.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Munson cursed quietly, eyes glowing, “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, please,” Jason hissed, pushing down the warm feeling that rose in his stomach inappropriately.
“I’m impressed.”
It rattled around Jason’s brain the rest of the evening. The smooth velvety way Munson had said it, so close to an alpha’s purr. The flash of long lethal fangs in a soft and pretty smile.
That night, in the nest that Jason had made so cozy, he tossed and turned. He couldn’t sleep, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the dreams. Nightmares.
Munson was with him there in the nightmare, calloused hands lashed about Jason’s hips, long lashes falling over brown eyes. His face wasn’t harsh, but soft and approving, like when Jason had recited the poem. His hands were frustratingly soft on Jason, his words distant and muddled, like he was speaking underwater. His scent was distant too, a memory that made Jason crazed and wild.
But that wasn’t the nightmarish part. That was that it was Jason who was doing it. Jason whose thighs were parted wide, weeping slick all over Munson’s lap, grinding his cock and his cunt shamelessly against the alpha. Jason who was naked and keening and wild, and Munson who was clothed and calm, barely touching Jason, barely there at all. Jason cried out in frustration, bringing himself to the edge of orgasm over and over again, and waking before he could finish. He tried to stop himself, tried to make his mouth pray instead of moan and sob, but he couldn’t stop it.
He woke and fell asleep fitfully, until at long last, Munson reached up in the dream and ghosted his hand over the nape of Jason’s neck, and Jason cried out, gripping the pillow tightly between his legs.
He woke up for real that time, and pulled his nest apart with shaking hands, throwing all the slick soaked sheets into the laundry. He scoured his skin in cold water in the basement shower, far out of earshot of his parents, and snuck back to his room.
It felt as empty and foreign as when his father would strip his nest, but it was better that Jason did it than leave evidence of his shame splattered across his sheets and soaked into the scents of his room. He opened the window and curled up on the bare mattress, shivering slightly under a single thin blanket as the scent dissipated, leaving only burning linen and the hint of drop in the wind. He knew the punishment fit the crime. Munson had comforted him, despite everything, despite how it made Jason impure. Jason didn’t deserve comfort. Wasn’t that obvious?