Looking in the rearview mirror, he ran a hand through his untidy hair, grimacing at the sheer number of greys popping through the short bristle of his undercut. His alpha father had lost his colour early in life, but Blake had held out hope of inheriting his omega father’s gloriously dark locks. Still, he had the wavy thickness and decent hairline, at least.
Needless to say, Blake was feeling neither glamorous nor excited as he pulled the car around to Pember’s front door that morning.
Twisting the heating dial up to max, he held his fingers up to the vents and waited for the sharp sting of poor circulation to fade. George snored loudly from the back seat, totally and utterly unaware of the world going to shit around him.
“You lazy fucker,” he murmured, reaching back to press a thumb into the soft pad of George’s paw. The corgi only turned over with a loud grunt.
The clatter of Pember’s front door made Blake look up. A piece of toast hung from his mouth as he pulled a black waterproof coat over his shoulders. At least he was wearing a coat, and not just a T-shirt and a pair of tiny black pants that clung to his?—
Sliding his eyes back to the centre console, Blake turned down the music that was blasting from the speakers and set the heating to a more reasonable temperature. He rolled his neck to work out a strip of tension and hoped that the pathologist was running on time. He’d spent more than enough hours inside the bitterly cold morgue, and wasn’t keen to freeze his arse off for longer than was absolutely necessary.
Still, the dead didn’t call at three o’clock in the fucking morning asking if they could claim a McDonalds milkshake on expenses, he supposed.
“Morning,” Pember said, his tone overly bright for the time of day.
The sun was only just appearing over the horizon, yet the omega looked fresh-faced as he slid into the passenger seat. Blake gave a curt nod in response.
On face value, he might have assumed Pember was just another wayward newbie looking to make an impression. But, in the days since they’d met, he’d seen the omega’s green eyes drop into glassy despondency more than once. He’d been unfair in telling him as much the previous night, and he was beginning to regret it.
Blake was quickly realising that Pember had one of those faces that couldn’t contain itself. His expressions swung wildly depending on his emotions, making for a rather interesting viewing experience. Blake found he was quickly becoming addicted to testing those expressions.
The velvety sweet scent of the omega hadtotallyblindsided him that day in the woods, and again in the lab. Perhaps he was being a fucking sap, but Pember did smell remarkably similar to the chocolate shop at the end of his parents’ street.
“Morning,” Blake replied, awkwardly clearing his throat as he reached to turn the music down even more.
“O-oh, don’t feel you need to do that. It’s your car,” Pember said, shaking his head.
Blake let out a breath and rested his hand on the gear stick. “Wouldn’t want to wake Val.” He smirked. Not that the old alpha had any inclination of what was going on outside of her tiny bubble.
Pember snickered, his straight teeth peeping out from behind his top lip. “That’s a low blow,” he said, clipping the seat belt into place.
Blake touched the tip of his tongue to a fang and slid the car into gear. “She’s not here to defend herself, so I’ll take my chances.”
Pember huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m going to tell her you’re making fun of her.”
Blake bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning.
George let out a loud snore as they pulled out of Bell Lane, and Pember turned, reaching through the gap in the chairs to stroke his ears. His cheek grazed Blake’s shoulder, the minty, clean scent of his hair tickling his nostrils again.
When it was clear that even tummy rubs and chin tickles weren’t going to wake George, Pember gave up and huddled back into the heated seat. Blake looked at him from the corner of his eye, noticing he’d slid a thin black headband through his hair to push the deep umber tendrils out of his face. It caused it to curl around his ears, revealing a small freckle imprinted on the corner of his jaw, and another close to his Adam’s apple.
Blake swallowed, turning his gaze back to the road. “Did she like the apple pie?” he said, voice cracking ever so slightly.
A small smile tugged at the edge of Pember’s mouth. “Of course. Why else do you think she let me clean?”
“I thought it was your omega mumbo jumbo.”
Pember’s nostrils flared as he looked up. “I can assure you, I possess no mumbo and even less jumbo.”
Blake shrugged. “Perhaps it was the headscarf. Reminded her of the nineteen fifties,” he said, shooting him a teasing half smile.
“I’d just washed my hair and didn’t want to wash it again. You saw the amount of soot. Not to mention the state of the oven.”
Hehadseen the soot, and the oven, and the stacks upon stacks of unopened post littering the living room. He’d triedmanytimes to convince her to let him get a cleaner, but she wouldn’t have it.
“I told you she likes you,” Blake said, voice soft. “That was kind, by the way.”
Their eyes met for a brief second, some kind of shared understanding passing between them. Then, Pember’s gaze drifted from Blake’s face to his neck, and down to his chest. Blake thought for one blindingly unwholesome moment that the omega was checking him out, but quickly realised he was looking at the heart rate monitor creating a small protrusion from under his white shirt.
