‘Hairy!’

The voice screamed out loud enough that Harry didn’t start his eleventh lap around the field. Instead, he turned to see a mousy-haired man standing by the sports studio and waving vigorously at him

It wasn’t anyone he recognised, but the man was definitely looking directly at him. Harry jogged over with a confused smile.

Closer he could see the stranger was sweating within one of the most expensive brands of tracksuit and his face was painted almost completely in sunblock.

Harry was wearing the fancy running trainers Aki had insisted on buying for him out of their clothing budget and the bright orange shorts he’d proudly picked up himself at bargain price in the nearly-new sale at the end of term. He had no shirt on and was unsure whether the stranger was gazing at his chest because he was shorter than Harry and that’s where his eyes naturally fell…or if he was just gazing at his chest.

‘Heya. Did you want me?’ Harry asked with what he hoped was a welcoming smile.

The man was clearly a beta and he’d learned during his time at uni, maybe because of the size difference(?), betas often found alphas intimidating even when the alphas were trying to be friendly.

The man kept staring at his nipples for a beat longer, before he looked up into Harry’s face and asked, ‘Are you hairy?’

‘I don’t know. Am I?’ He frowned down at his own chest.

Unfortunately, no manly hair had magically appeared, he looked as smooth as ever. It didn't help being blonde and out in the sun so much, even if hair did appear it was basically invisible. But Basher had reassured him though, saying that a lot of the alphas in his own family didn’t get proper beards and hairy bods until they were in their twenties.

‘At the office they said hairy’d help me.’ The man had a strange accent which made the words sound foreign. Luckily part of the accent seemed to be speaking really slowly so Harry could mostly understand him.

‘Yeah, I’d like to be hairy too mate, I think it does help as people treat you with more respect if you’ve got a full on beard. So many dudes come in hard with tackles because I look like a kid.’ He pointed to his disappointingly hairless chin. ‘I mean, it’s fine ‘cause I can handle myself, but wouldn’t a really long beard be the coolest? It’s pretty sweet meeting someone who thinks the same as me.’ He patted the beta on the back. ‘The name’s Harry, what do you go by?’

The beta smiled in obvious relief. ‘You are hairy! That’s good, really good. Even across the field I thought you looked like a very nice guy.’ He looked Harry up and down as if to prove his point. ‘I’m Bikey.’

Harry took Bikey’s proffered hand and shook it; it was a strong shake despite the fact the beta’s hands were clammy with the heat.

‘Nice to meet you, Bikey. ‘Fraid I’m still not hairy though.’  

The beta laughed. ‘I’m not called Bikey. That’d be a weird name even for my lot to come up with! I’m Bikey.’

For a while, the beta kept repeating a name that sounded just like ‘Bikey’ to Harry and Harry kept trying to say exactly what he heard back. Then something clicked in the blonde’s brain.

‘When you say hairy, are you trying to say Harry?’

‘Ya, Hairy, that’s what I’m saying, right?’

Now Harry laughed. ‘I can be Hairy to you, if you can be Bikey to me.’

‘Done.’ Grinning Bikey held a curled finger out.

Harry gazed at it and gave a helpless shrug. With his spare hand Bikey took Harry’s right hand and moved Harry’s finger so it mirrored his and then interlocked the two of them together.

Bikey tilted his head at Harry. ‘It’s a thing where I come from, it means we’re friends and agree to agree with each other.’

Harry grinned his biggest grin looking down at where his finger was linked with Bikey’s.

‘So tell me what I can do to help you, new friend?’

Bikey’s gaze dropped back down to Harry’s pecs and in a soft voice which Harry just about heard said, ‘Where do I begin?’