Chapter 1

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"Vegas!" The chestnut stands up from his chair, walking over to the alpha. He tries to grab his face to see where the blood was coming from, but the tall one turns away.

"I'm fine. It's just a small cut on my eyebrow" he makes his way to where the soup pot is. He grunts at the sight of it.

"You want some dinner?" he sees the brunet nod. Vegas walks out of the kitchen as he says, "Serve it. I'll go to the bathroom."

Pete puts the soup in another deep dish, making the pot empty now. He rummages through the drawers for some bread his mother brought him in the afternoon. It's sweet and some are chocolate. He puts them on the table, too, and pours the grape soda. Vegas returns, he has changed his clothes and his bun looks more combed. He sits down and Pete mimics him, taking his old place.

"Y... How did the eyebrow thing happen to you?"

Vegas shrugs his shoulders, determined not to answer.

"Okay," Pete says, playing with the spoon.

He's no longer hungry. Vegas gives him the jitters, doesn't know how to treat him and it makes him uncomfortable. He plays with the spoon and the noodle soup, bored and not knowing what else to say or do. He was sick of it being the same every day. He would go to school, alone, because the alpha would get up very early and leave. In the afternoon, when he had some money, he would come home by truck. He would rest for a while, then stop to do his homework and prepare his lunch. He ate alone. By later, almost 7 o'clock, he would make or go out to buy what would be dinner. Most of the time he had dinner alone, sometimes with Vegas. It was the same thing, though, since the older one didn't talk. Pete was sick of being alone all day.

"Don't play with the food. You're 19 not 5" Vegas' thick voice booms, snapping him out of his thoughts.

The alpha picks up a loaf of bread, breaks it and realizes it's sticky and sweet, so he sets it down again.

"This bread wasn't bought by you," he says, looking at it for the first time all night, or week maybe.

"Uh no. My mom brought it."

"I don't want you to eat any of what your mom gives you. That's what I'm for, to support you and feed you, with as much or as little as I have."

"But she just wanted-"

"It doesn't matter, Pete. You're not going to eat anything that isn't bought with my money."

And once he's finished his dinner, Vegas drops everything in the dishwasher and goes to take a bath. Pete sighs, standing up to wash everything. He does it quickly and listlessly. He hated Vegas being like that, he was a pest and proud of the worst. He dries his hands, walking heavily to the room. The only one there and the same one he shared with the alpha.

"Which side are you going to sleep on today?" Vegas walks in, shorts hanging down his hips and drying his long hair with a towel. "Or would you prefer in the living room? I'm tired and I don't want you to disturb."

Pete's lips twisted. By disturbing she meant to be getting close to him, to feel his warmth. Because he needs it, his omega and puppy crying to feel the curly alpha close.

"No! I mean, no. Sleep here. please?"

Vegas nods, going to the closet for a t-shirt. He rummages through the drawers until he finds one, and without another word slips inside the sheets.

"When you're done doing your business you turn out the light, and don't make a sound" he puts an arm over his eyes, blocking out the brightness.

The chestnut nods even though he knows she's not watching him. He shifts his clothes being careful not to be clumsy and bump into something, but he can't. His knee hits a piece of furniture and Vegas grunts. Carefully, he searches through the alpha's clothes for a shirt or sweater for a good night's sleep. He removes his own shirt, pulling Vegas's over his head.

He sniffs hard, smiling. He smells like Vegas, a lot. It's totally masculine and very strong. The smell of a real stubborn, stubborn alpha. Pete laughs - very low - at the thought.

He turns out the lights, going to his spot on the bed. He lies down, facing Vegas' big back.

"Vegas..." he speaks to him in a whisper. The tall one just grunts in response. "Vegas."

"What the fuck, Pete? I told you I was tired and not to fuck around."

"I know, but I want to ask you something."

"Are you sick?"

"Ah, no."

"Then shut up and let me sleep."

"I am sick"

"You just said no. Don't be a child and go to sleep"

"But I want to hug you!" she covers her mouth, feeling Vegas' back stiffen.

"... Since" he says, agreeing.

Morosely, Pete moves closer to Vegas, draping an arm around the other's waist. He, along with his omega, purr with pleasure at the smell and warmth the alpha is giving them. It smells like peppermint and a bit of tobacco smoke, it feels good. It's a protective smell. Pete closes his eyes, inhaling once more, to remind himself that he was there, with his would-be alpha.

And Vegas, he's never going to accept that a smile crossed his face when he felt the omega's barely swollen belly bump against his hard back.

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