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It took everything Gladio has to not lash out and smack the man’s hand away. He’s an important guy, stupid rich and a big donor to the charity they’re celebrating. King Regis would not take kindly to Gladio punching out someone at a charity ball in general but especially not when it's someone whose continued support he wants. Gladio has enough shit in his plate without being the reason a charity loses out on money. Or the reason his family's name is dragged through the mud with the media; he could just see it now 'Amicita heir becomes hysterical and violent at ball' because when it came to omegas everything was about being hysterical or overly emotional.
So he smiled politely and tried to step away. When the man, easily old enough to be his father, wrapped surprisingly strong fingers around his wrist to stop him, Gladio couldn’t help but be distantly impressed. There aren’t many alphas with the balls to get handsy with him, what with him not just being bigger than the average omega but towering over most alphas. Not to say it never happened because it did and when it did it was always very...he hated it. Male and female alphas who were bold enough to touch were all very bold, feeling as if they could touch his arms, run hands over his chest while making comments about his size and strength and how he was so unlike other omegas. When he'd been fifteen he'd had a woman slide a hand between his thighs and all but purred, batting her eyelashes as she told him how nice it was that he was some small delicate thing that needed coddled.
His size appealed to some and made them feel like they could treat him differently than they would other omegas. After all if he didn't like it he could just stop them, wouldn't he? So it must be okay. And others seemed to feel the same way because even if people saw it happen they turned away and pretended they hadn't.
No one ever came to the defense of a Shield. That just wasn’t how things worked.
And he could take care of himself, yes, but how would it look?
He couldn’t just beat up everyone who pissed him off; he was a crownsguard, highly trained, and a noble with certain expectations on his behavior. He had to smile and stay polite, he had to hold back, he had to keep the intimidating and all the harm he could do cointained. He couldn’t lash out or attack first and in some cases he couldn’t even retaliate.
He could hurt someone, badly, without meaning to and he had to always always be aware of that.
And sometimes that meant tolerating an alpha stinking him up with their scent as they tried to chat him up and mark him as taken for the evening.
“Come now, stay a while. Or, perhaps, I can accompany you elsewhere.” The man stepped closer, hand sliding around his wrist to stroke over his scent gland.
If the touch were welcomed, from someone he liked and wanted, it would have been nice. From this man it made a cold slimy feeling wash over him. He grimaced and, with more force than he’d usually use, pulled his hand free. He continued to smile, because he had to, but his words were spoken through gritted teeth.
“I really have to go, sir. The prince is-“
“Why are you playing hard to get?” The man’s eyes raked over him in a way that made Gladio’s skin crawl. It was blatantly heated and yet distant, more like a person considering a steak than looking at another person. “And omega like you can’t have that a lot of options. You’re lucky I’m wasting my time with you so how about you drop the frigid act-” Gladio was going to hit him, proper behavior be damned. “And come back to my room with me?”
Gladio’s fingers curled into a fist but before he could slam it into the man’s nose a familiar touch to the back of his hand stilled him. Noctis slipped into place at his right, catching Gladio’s hand in his own and extracting him from the man’s grip all in one fluid motion. His thumb touched Gladio’s wrist, rubbed a gentle circle. He was smiling with far too many teeth.
“Excuse us.” Ignis said from Gladio’s other side as a hand came to rest on the small of his back. His voice was hard and cold, more furious, cracking ice than calm collected advisor. “We need to borrow Gladio.”
“Pictures.” Prompto added, holding up his camera. He was smiling to but it didn’t reach eyes gone hard and dark.
Gladio blinked at them, in their tuxes and ties and smelling like violence, and couldn’t think of a thing to say as the man bowed and hastily excused himself. Even when they lead him out if the ballroom to a small parlor off to the side his mouth stayed shut, throat too tight to let words out.
“What an asshole.” Prompto spat as soon as the door was shut behind him. Ignis, now pushing Gladio’s jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it aside, hummed his agreement. Noctis, pacing in front of the door, snarled something. “I don’t know how you didn’t knock his teeth down his throat.”
“I can’t-Ignis what the hell, leave my shirt alone- I can’t just punch every jerk off alpha who touches me.”
“I give you permission to punch anyone who touches you.” Noctis bit out. His burnt ozone scent was sour and sharp, coming off of him to fill the room in angry waves. Ignis and Prompto, old books and vanilla and sunshine and rain respectively, were no better. Gladio blinked at them again; he didn’t think he’d ever see his friends, his strange collection of alphas, so angry.
“I’m fine. He barely touched me.” Ignis’ expression went pinched and dark. Prompto snorted and Noctis continued to pace. “It’s nothing that’s never happened before. Some alphas-“
Noctis went from pissed to apoplectic between one breath and the next, moving from the door to in front of Gladio so fast he was half convinced he’d warped. “When? Who? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Uh?” Gladio tried, smacking at Ignis’ hands to keep them away from his shirt buttons. “Seriously, what the hell?”
“You reek.” Prompto offered, stepping into the empty space at his back and just like that he was surrounded. “That guy got his smell all over you.”
“…it happens?”
“Its disgusting.” Ignis informed him, words clipped and angry. “If you won’t rid yourself of these clothes-”
“What else would I wear?”
“Then will you at least let us cover it up?”
Gladio squinted, eyes sliding from Ignis to Noctis and back to Prompto, and shrugged. “If you’ll stop trying to strip me, sure.”
And that was how Gladio ended up squashed on a couch with his friends nuzzling his throat and wrists, letting their scents weave around him like a net, long after the charity event was over.
He didn’t have the heart to stop them when they all seemed so pleased, practically purring, and their scents had finally lost those angry notes. And maybe it was…nice to be looked after for a change.