Author's note (14 Aug): Hehe major edits to the dialogue between our boys, but not much changes to the way the scene plays out at the dinner at Hector's place.

I am so sorry.

We’ve told the paps to lay off you guys.

nothing you can do about the fans?

Wait for them to get bored. They’re fickle, I promise. Wait for a Netflix reality TV star to say something stupid.

Blaise snorts, tossing his phone aside, and sprawls across his bed. Somewhere in his room down the hall, Cas is shouting at his teammates to shoot shoot shoot the motherfucker is getting back up, some sort of important raid going on in his game. The cars passing by on the street outside shine white-yellow stripes on his ceiling.

It is creepy to think that there are photos of Ironworks, of Talon and him floating around the Internet, but interest would die down with the next update on another celebrity walking down another street.

Besides, someone found out that he is Thalia’s roommate—here he is on her IG, that big bloke is here too, so it’s Thalia Montgomery—and now the rumours online are that Hector and Thalia, who met on the set of Hollow City, were hanging out in her mates’ tattoo shop after hours. Rumoured new ON-SET ROMANCE for OUR GOLDEN BOY!

He sent Thalia a screenshot of that article: iris was right!

dont get jealous when the publicity cycle for the movie starts

producers are bound to milk this

Jealous again. Everyone and Hector are determined to think he would fall over for every alpha who pays him attention; would want Hector for his own. Well, of bloody course he does. Even if he were not Hector Westbrook, the bloke is the epitome of alpha: beautiful, powerful and terrifying.

Infuriating that he is broken in every way an omega should be, but for his instinct to present his body for the taking by the next virile alpha. He refuses to give in. Why should they be seen only by their sex? They are both so much more than that. Hell, their shared obsession with Empire would have made for a better reason for their compatibility than a mere accident of birth.

You sly little thing, using your omega seduction, eh? Luring us into your bed like all of you filthy omega sluts. Aren’t you looking for our attention? Oh, come on, you were asking for it! He had not—he had not, but it did not matter to the alphas, or betas too sometimes, rubbing up against him in clubs, taking every outfit he wears for an invitation; even at Comic Con, where he was wearing a literal cage over his face.

It is more dangerous too, that Hector is Hector Westbrook. If this is how the Internet reacts when they know Blaise as a mere acquaintance, he shudders to think how they will rip Hector to shreds if they think he is dating an abomination like Blaise. Hector said it himself, did he not? The fans want a fantasy version of Hector; and a perfect alpha like him should belong with perfect omegas like Thalia, who is very good at acting like one.

His phone buzzes with notifications.

He stares at his Twitter feed with numb disbelief, because Sibyl has just liked and replied to his latest Empire fanart: Blimey, this is gorgeous! Thank you for this. I can’t believe someone could draw THIS from Empire. This, on top of the commission he received directly from Sibyl last week? Oh, he has done something right after all to deserve such bloody good luck.

It’s not luck, you muppet! You’re bloody talented! Of course, she would notice you.

internet fame IS luck

luck and consistency in giving ppl what they want

Well, your art is what they want then!

im not complaining!! look im going to retweet the link to my etsy now

im going to MILK this attention babes

Don’t forget me when you’re rich and famous. Come on, won’t you tell me what your handle is now? Let me bask in the beauty of your art.

Blaise posts Gigantomakhia fanart on that account too, so it would be a cold day in hell before he shares that account with Hector. He replies: if youre a good boy, i might let you play me in the movie of my life. Does good boy sound flirtatious? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

But who’s going to play me in the movie of your life then?

bold of you to assume you will be important enough to be in my movie

Who else is going to appreciate the glorious Empire tattoo on your face? Are you sure you want to offend the man who will be cooking your dinner tomorrow?

<sent a GIF from GIPHY>

you wouldnt dare

Wouldn’t I?

Thalia, Cas and Talon are coming too, yeah?

iris rlyyyyyy wants to but theyre busy

they say you need to host another dinner soon

Gladly. See you tomorrow then, you viral art sensation.

good night, mate!!

The pale yellow Victorian townhouse is a startling reminder that his friend Hector is Hector Westbrook, and Hector Westbrook belongs to a class of wealth Blaise could not even aspire to: the sort of wealthy that defies envy, because what is the point?

Cas looks similarly gobsmacked, glancing at Blaise, you are certain he wants us over for dinner? Thalia is studying the rest of the neighbourhood thoughtfully—candy-coloured townhouses surrounding a peaceful garden square—shopping for a house she might buy here one day, as she takes her place amongst the celebrities flocking to Primrose Hill.

Talon rings the doorbell, so Hector comes face-to-face with the tattooed alpha, when he opens the door, dressed in a grey jumper and worn jeans.

‘Welcome! You must be Talon.’ Hector’s genial smile is slightly brittle, as he shakes Talon’s hand.

They hold each other’s gaze, both tall, muscular and hard-edged in the typical clash for dominance between alphas meeting for the first time. Thalia rolls her eyes, and squeezes past them into the foyer: ‘Oh, move aside, you twats. You’re not competing for the same brother.’

Dropping Hector’s hand hastily, Talon shoots Blaise an aggrieved expression, as if he could control her mouth. Blaise rolls his eyes, filing in after Thalia, saying cheerily to Hector: ‘I’m starving, mate! Are we ready to eat?’

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re only here for a free meal,’ the alpha retorts. ‘Yes, the food’s ready, you came just in time. Hullo, it’s nice to finally meet you, Cas. I’ve heard so much about you.’

His older brother nods, taking Hector’s handshake firmly. ‘Nice to meet you too. Thanks for inviting us over.’

Hector keeps up a polite prattle, Blaise said you work at the Office of Veteran Affairs, as he leads them down the carpeted hallway with its shiny black-and-white tiles, past tastefully decorated rooms straight out of a House & Garden photoshoot, and into a cosy dining room. A door is propped open to an intimidatingly white kitchen, from which mouth-watering smells are emitting.

The beef bourguignon is hearty and delicious; the Cabernet Sauvignon keeps flowing; and conversation is cheery and light, as Thalia and Hector discuss the progress on pre-production for Hollow City, delving into gossip about their co-stars and rumours on other potential movie adaptations from books. Blaise and Cas, wide-eyed and scandalised, demand more gossip.

Talon is of course, taciturn as ever, but Blaise does not like the way he glances thoughtfully between Hector and him, and when he catches his friend’s eye, the big man smiles in amusement and continues eating.

Blaise takes a deep drink, closing his eyes briefly. Here in Hector’s home, his mouth-watering scent hangs tangible in the air, heavy enough for Blaise to taste it on his tongue: caramelised apples and creamy custard, against campfire and woodsmoke. The awareness itches beneath his skin—has been from the moment he stepped into Hector’s home—some instinct whispering for him to unravel, but what?

He opens his eyes, making a face, refusing to give the thought any credence. Talon is frowning at him. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, but his friend looks away, distracted by Cas collapsing with laughter against him at Thalia’s impression of their grade school headmistress.

‘More blueberry pie?’ Hector asks from the head of the table, smiling warmly at Blaise.

‘I’m stuffed,’ he groans. ‘But yes, please.’

He digs a fork into his second slice, and moans when the pie hits his tongue, all tart blueberries, buttery crust and gooey sauce: ‘This is so fucking good, mate. If your next movie flops, you should—’ He forgets what he means to say about Hector’s career options, all thoughts fading at the sight of the alpha’s expression.

Hector’s eyes, wide and surprised, are fixed on Blaise’s mouth. He cannot seem to look away, as he swipes a tongue over his lips, a flush rising in his cheeks, and in the air, the cloying unmistakeable scent of arousal.

Blaise abruptly lurches to his feet, chair screeching, dishes rattling, fork falling back into the pie. His family swivels around to stare, puzzled, as Hector drops his gaze, his face ruddy.

‘Loo,’ Blaise manages to say.

‘First door on the right down the hall,’ the alpha says without looking up.

Blaise sits on the toilet bowl with his head between his hands, his thoughts a blurred mess. Even here, in a toilet clean to the point of sterility, he tastes Hector’s arousal, rolling around his tongue like a slow-melting candy heart—and his body responds, his body aches.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. FUCK!

When was the last time he felt like this? Uni. Oliver. No. No, no, no. He is drunk, it’s the alcohol, wine is a known aphrodisiac, that’s all there is to it. He washes his face with cold water, glaring at his flushed expression in the shiny mirror. Hector is his friend.

Merely a friend.