Six: Upset

Damon was in a fugue for the entire night and most of the next morning. All he could think about was Malachi’s stupid face and slimy smile and by the time Jun knocked on his door he had completely forgotten that they were supposed to go out today.

He shot up from the couch where he had been swaddled in a nest of tear and snot stained blankets like someone had struck him with a cattle prod. Shit, he thought, abruptly remembering that there was another, much better alpha who required his attention. He scrambled to get up, used tissues and wrappers of the various snacks he’d eaten last night in favor of eating actual dinner cascading to the floor.

“Just a minute,” he called, and then scooped up as much of the mess as he could, throwing it away and hoping Jun wouldn’t notice. Who was he kidding. Jun was a bit dumb at times, but he was, strangely, a detective when it came to anything Damon-related. He was exceptionally good when it came to Damon’s emotional upsurges – which, he thought, he was usually very good at hiding.

For example, once, Damon had been caught in a nesting haze. Though alphas were given the heats, omegas, as the child-bearers, still occasionally went into fits of instinct and started to nest – gathering up everything soft they could, piling it up in a dark, secluded corner, and hiding there until the instincts eased up. This happened sporadically for most omegas, only a couple times a year and for most omegas it was easy to ignore if they weren’t pregnant. Damon could also ignore them to some extent.

On this particular day, he had been on an outing with Jun, Mark, and another mutual friend, Ava. It was one of his and Jun’s first dates, so Mark and Ava were acting as chaperones, essentially. Mark and Ava didn’t notice a thing wrong with him, but Jun stopped them in the middle of what they were doing – walking aimlessly around the mall in the closest town – to place his hand on Damon’s forehead.

Damon found himself gazing up at Jun from under his big, warm hand. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

“Are you nesting?” he had asked abruptly, managing to pinpoint the problem immediately. Damon was still, to this day, not sure how he’d known. The outward symptoms of a nesting haze, other than actually nesting in pregnant omegas, were a slight fever, general irritability, and an annoying magnetism to the nearest alpha to get a big lungful of their calming pheromones.

Except, the only one of those symptoms Damon was showing was the fever. And other than being slightly more flushed than normal, even that was practically indiscernible.

Damon stood there, shocked, for long enough that Jun could figure out the answer for himself. And then, being the sweet, sweet boy he was, he silently took off the scarf he was wearing and wrapped it around Damon’s neck. He didn’t say anything to explain himself and it wasn’t until after getting home and smelling the residual pheromones on the scarf that he realized Jun had been thoughtfully providing something to help Damon through the haze.

Damon still had that scarf. It was in fact safely ensconced in the corner of his room that he reserved specifically for nesting fits, lying among the dozens of throw pillows and plush blankets, though it had lost most of its scent. Damon hardly ever had to use his nesting space, because of course he had never been pregnant, but it was still comforting to nest even if you could resist the urge. He had fallen asleep with that scarf more times than he would ever admit.

If Jun could figure out he was nesting from one little clue like a fever, then he could definitely tell that Damon had spent the night on the couch neglecting his nutrition and crying his eyes out. Damon could always just not let him inside, but after looking down at himself – at his big sweatpants and sweatshirt that he had slept in, stained with Cheeto dust, teeth unbrushed, hair unwashed – he knew he would have to. He had to shower.

So, after cleaning up the bulk of the mess, Damon threw himself up the stairs to the landing so he could bolt to the bathroom easily before calling down “Come in!”

The second the words were out of his mouth he made a run for it and skidded into the bathroom. As he started the shower running, he heard Jun open the door. Alright. Crisis averted. Probably.

After washing and dressing himself, Damon felt marginally less like the pathetic mess he had been yesterday and came downstairs to find Jun nowhere in sight. He blinked once. Twice. Scanned the room.

“…Jun?” What was the boy into now?

That’s when he heard a faint shuffling noise from the living room. He turned toward it, and though the back of the couch was facing him from his position, he could hear that Jun was there. He couldn’t see him though. Was he laying down?

He skirted around the arm of the couch and peered down, only to see a lump moving under the blanket he’d cried on all night. The blanket was too small to cover Jun’s entire body though, so his booted feet stuck out a full foot from the end of it. The sight was so comical that Damon forgot to scold him for getting his shoes on the furniture. “…Jun?” he said again, notably more concerned this time. What was he doing?

At the second call, Jun’s fluffy head popped out from the top of the blanket. He met Damon’s bewildered gaze without an ounce of shame, but his eyes were strangely a little red. Damon raised his eyebrows at him in question.

Jun’s mouth twitched, like he was upset about something. He bit his cheek stubbornly, obviously annoyed with Damon for whatever reason. Suddenly Damon felt a bit upset himself. Jun had never been mad at him before. What was that expression for? Damon hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he?

A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. He had been in close proximity to Malachi yesterday. Malachi’s pheromones were probably all over Damon last night – and they were probably all over the blanket.

Guilt came out of nowhere, slapping Damon upside the head. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he knew that. But looking at Jun’s red eyes…

However, before Damon could get nervous enough with the silence to apologize, Jun spoke.

“You cried,” he said simply. Voice rough, aggrieved.

“…”

…That’s what he was upset about? That Damon had cried all over his blanket?

“I…” Damon didn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to apologize for crying? Jun was still looking at him. Had never looked away.

Damon cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Jun said nothing in response. He sat up, bundling the blanket under his arm and used his other arm to grab Damon’s wrist. He tugged, leading Damon out of the house. Damon was so baffled that he didn’t say a single word, letting Jun lead him all the way to the park a block from Damon’s house where they had agreed to have their date. On the way out of the house, though, in addition to Damon’s tear-blanket, he grabbed another small red blanket that he had left on the table by the entryway for their picnic and a basket filled with foodstuffs, also stuffing them under his arm.

When they got to the park, Jun spread out the red blanket first, then the tears and snot blanket on top before sitting down and pulling Damon down with him. Damon didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare at Jun like he’d grown a second head.

Jun noticed his stare and avoided it, quickly busying his hands and pulling out the goodies he’d brought in the basket. He was still frowning, but he grudgingly answered Damon’s unspoken question. “Override the memory,” he mumbled. “Whatever made you sad.”

…Huh. Well then.