Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    Steve goes missing in August. Long enough after his parents have left town that there’s no question of their having taken him with for once.

    It sends the whole pack into something of a tailspin, but none as much as the Scoops Troop. Robin feels like she’s losing it, the longer they scour Hawkins for any sign of him, and she knows Dustin and Erica are right there with her. Max and Lucas aren’t taking it that much better– Steve had been one of the few people Max would… well, not open up to, but tolerate, after everything, and he’d also been spending a lot of one-on-one time with Lucas as the summer had drawn on. 

    Without Hopper, it makes the search harder. Robin’s mostly been working with Nancy, and she’s aware that Nancy would much rather be working with Jonathan, and maybe he’d be much better at investigating, but… well, without Hopper, Jonathan’s spending all the time he’s not working looking after his mom, and after El. The whole pack’s rallying around them. The Byers almost took El and left Hawkins entirely, but being ripped from the rest of the pack wouldn’t have made grieving any easier. 

    They moved into a bigger place, so El could have a room, and there’s a new alpha that’s moved in with them there. As far as Robin can tell, Jonathan’s taking care of him, too, and that’s all she really knows. That he knows about everything that’s going on and that he’s living in the Byers’ new basement, not like… with Joyce, and not stepping into the role of pack alpha in Hopper’s stead despite being an adult alpha who knows enough shit to do so. They don’t really have a pack alpha. 

    Anyway, Robin was more interested in knowing what was going on with anyone else before Steve disappeared. Now, it feels like the only thing she’s got is the hope of finding him again. And she and Nancy are running out of time before senior year. How is she supposed to focus on senior year when Steve is missing? When he just vanished.

    The Harrington house is still the pack’s base, for Operation: Find Steve. Robin has a key, she and Nancy work there between outings, and the kids help keep the place clean. Well, sort of clean. One wall in a guest bedroom has been turned into a map of all the information they have, which is… not much.

    Robin sleeps there a couple times, in Steve’s nest, says she’s spending the night at Nancy’s and trusts Nancy would cover for her if her mom called. Wonders if they’ll find Steve before the nest smells more like her than it does like him. Wonders when she’d notice, as a beta, when scent isn’t really how she navigates the world.

    Jonathan brings the weird alpha living in his basement, when Steve’s been gone a week, and the guy goes from looking like death warmed over standing in the living room, to leaping into action when he sees the wall Robin and Nancy have started. 

    “You think you can help us on this?” Nancy asks, which throws Robin for a loop, but then, she thinks knowing Nancy means getting thrown for a lot of loops. That she’s not a priss, that she has guns, that she is in turns the hardest and softest person Robin knows and she wasted too much time hating the idea of her because somewhere between junior high and high school she lost her firs best friend to a bond with Nancy Wheeler that just didn’t have room for a third…

    That was never Nancy’s fault. Not really.

    “Oh, I think we can find answers. I think after a week, you won’t like them, but we’ll find them.”

    “He’s an omega.” Robin says, because this guy never actually talked to Steve, and Steve’s designation is something not everyone knows, something he’s still easing into being open about. But it’s a factor. No, they won’t like what they find, but there’s every chance whoever took him did it because they want him alive. 

    And she’s already been fighting Nancy on the question of hope– Nancy, who’s done this before, searched for someone. And then after those fights, they could take a moment together, to remember Barb. But this is different, Robin knows it is. Because the Upside Down had been quiet for over a month when Steve had gone missing. They’d stopped all that shit coming back at Starcourt. And as best as Robin understands, if something were happening now, El or Will would know. 

    “Alive is… a possibility.” The guy heaves a sigh, looking over the scant information they have. Places Steve’s car was seen, before he failed to come pick her up for work, and it was found abandoned in a field just outside town. “You’re still not going to like what we find.”

    “We know.” Nancy folds her arms, something hard under her voice. For all that she’s been the doom-and-gloom one working this with Robin, she’s pushing back against it from someone outside the pack. Is he outside the pack? It’s not super clear. “But at least we could bring him home.”

    “Steve.” There’s something in the way he says it that raises Robin’s hackles. Something a little too sad– no, too sorry– to be mocking, but far too close to it somehow. “And what are things like with Steve, Nancy?”

    “They’re not. But… we’re still pack, sort of. So I’m still going to get him back. I owe him that much.”

    “Then we’ll find him.” He nods, softer.

-/-

    The first place they take Steve feels like being dragged into Hell, but less fire and brimstone, more darkness and B.O.. There are thin mattresses on the ground, no windows and few lightbulbs. A scattering of people, most in chains. No one wearing more than maybe a nightshirt and hopefully a pair of undies. Omegas, he realizes, he realizes that fast. Mostly women– he’s honestly surprised he’s not the only guy, there’s a man crouching on one of the mattresses who stares, wide-eyed, when he’s dragged into the room, still shaking off the feeling of being drugged. 

    The bar comes back to him in flashes. Needing to just get out of his head, knowing Robin wouldn’t want to go with him for it… It wasn’t even about drinking, he lost his taste for the kind of drinking he used to do, after the Russians. Maybe a beer– maybe two if they watered ‘em down– but nothing the former keg stand king of Hawkins High would have called drinking.

    Does the crown revert to him, now that…? 

    Doesn’t matter.

    He went to the Hideout because they don’t really look at your ID real hard, and because the music had been loud, and something in him needed that. He’d…

    They’d drugged him there, then. Because that’s the last thing he remembers.

    He tries to fight too soon, body still uncoordinated, and with no clear escape plan. A rough beta catches him before he hits the floor. Something jabs into the meat of his thigh.

    They strip him clinically, down to his underthings. They take his shoes, they take his newest pair of shoes, they take them right off. Maybe it’s the drugs, or maybe it’s how little they seem to care about his body when they strip the rest of him, but it’s the shoes he gets mad about. 

    “Toss his clothes in the cells with the alphas.” The beta dude orders one of the others. “Give ‘em something to fight over, want ‘em good and riled up before the fight. Let ‘em believe they actually have a shot.”

    “Shot at what?” Steve squints.

    “Shot at you. Don’t worry, no one’s throwing you to the wolves. You’re still young… you could have a good life ahead of you if you’re smart. You a virgin?”

    He snorts, offended. “Do I look like a nerd to you? Of course I’m not a virgin.”

    “As an omega.” He clarifies, which, gross. “You want my advice, kid? When you get to the convent, make a big show out of being pure. Otherwise, you could end up back here on the irregulars rack.”

    That feels like a shitty thing to call it, but even heavily drugged, he’s beginning to wrap his head around how shitty everything about his situation is. 

    “What convent?” He asks, but he’s out again before he gets an answer.

    Over the course of a few days at the convent, he gets the picture. There’s a lot of super archaic training. It’s maybe all girls, and Steve thinks he’s the oldest one there. Not everyone here was drugged and dragged there– whoever took Steve, they’re only one of the clients of this fucked up finishing school

    Some of the girls talk about being brought by their parents, though, and maybe that’s worse. It’s really hard to say. 

    The others, the ones whose families aren’t the ones trying to mold them into the perfect omegas, they whisper fearfully about an auction.

    “You don’t have to worry about that.” One girl says, her mouth a hard line, her eyes dull. Her hand moves like she thinks it should have a cigarette in it and it’s somehow her biggest problem that it doesn’t. “Not yet, anyway. It takes more than a week to be good enough for that. Months, even. Just… don’t learn too fast.”

    “Learning too fast has never really been a problem for me.” Steve shrugs. She actually smiles, at that. 

    “Good. Keep it that way. It’s a narrow fucking tightrope, they’ll punish you if they think you’re being disobedient, and if you can’t hack it… That guy that brought you? He’ll take you back if you’re past your prime and just not getting it, and who knows what happens then… But you can at least hold off the inevitable a while. This place sucks, but it’s three hots and a cot, so.”

    “What, like prison?”

    “I mean…” She gestures around them. 

    There’s a yard. They get a certain amount of fresh air and sun if they behave. They get to wear more than tattered nightshirts– Steve doesn’t know if he’s the only male omega here, but he does know he’s the only omega here he’s seen who isn’t in the standard uniform, and he thinks if they had one that would have fit him, they’d have made him wear it, even though it’s a dress. The pants and shirt they do put him in suck, and he gets socks but not shoes.

    The yard is mostly penned in by the building itself– no way out except through, and the staff is well prepared. And if he did break through, he has no idea where he is. He hasn’t been in the yard yet, you need to be there a certain length of time to earn that privilege. The girls have said that the one wall is impossible to get over, but Steve’s done impossible shit before. He just needs to behave long enough to earn yard privileges. They probably don’t expect anyone to try– how far are you gonna get without shoes, right? But Steve’s not sticking around this joint any longer than he absolutely has to.

    When they finally let him outside, he’s told to leave his socks inside– there’s a little room with cubbies, like you’d put shoes in if you had them, maybe. He puts his socks there, and steps out. The scent of the grass hits him, and the lack of the despair that’s soaked into everything indoors, like, years of it. It’s not all good– they’re downwind of a dairy farm, he thinks. And he can’t hear traffic, so there are no busy roads. 

    The girls might have been right about the wall. It’s towering, and it bends inwards at the top, smooth metal. No way to get up there, and no way to know what’s on the other side. 

    Back inside, Steve takes one of the socks from his meager drawer. He has a room to himself– no real privacy, staff checks in whenever they damn well feel like it, but he’s not bunking in with three girls. 

    Normally, he thinks he’d be doing something very different in bed at night with one sock, but right now, he’s got bigger shit on his mind. 

    They’ve been trying to teach him to sew, among other things. It’s pretty much like his entire life is one big home ec class. Steve had used every ounce of Harrington charm to ask if he could work on his embroidery work in his spare time, because he was afraid he just wasn’t getting it as fast as the girls, and he was the oldest omega there and didn’t want to wind up behind. He’s not stupid, not really, he knows they were warned at the start that he’d made an escape attempt at the first place. He wasn’t really cooperative until he gathered some information from the girls there, either, a couple days of defiance and punishment. But he’s really hoping to sell that he’s been scared straight– or at least that he’s figured out he has it way better here than if he gets sent back there.

    She hadn’t seen the harm in letting him take stuff. Not much harm he could do with a needle and a pair of thread snips, they aren’t even real scissors. The guards have actual weapons and shit, and some of them are big. 

    She hadn’t understood the kind of damage he was trying for.

    Steve might not be able to scale the big metal wall at the far end of the yard, but there’s more than one way to get over a wall. 

    He keeps the sock in bed with him a couple nights. Gets it absolutely drenched in his scent. He stitches a very messy HELP KIDNAPPED into it, goes over and over each line until it can be read despite the thickness of the fabric. Stitches it in bright red, between working on whatever skills he’ll apparently need so he can embroider baby names onto blankets or some shit. 

    It’s not even that Steve wouldn’t want to do that– at least, he wants kids someday– but he hates this. Still, he’ll have some progress to show.

    Finally, when he knows he’ll be able to go outside, he wears that sock underneath another sock. Folds a pair away in his cubby and balls that one up as tight as he can, hides it in his clothes. And when no one’s looking, he makes the pitch of a goddamn lifetime. Watches that balled-up sock sail over the wall. Hopes it comes un-balled enough for the red to show. For someone outside to see. Some… helpful dairy farmer, he guesses. 

    Later, he’ll say he lost a sock in the laundry, and there might be some kind of punishment for… sucking at doing laundry? But no one’s really going to question it. Not really.

Chapter Text

    There are a lot of things that could be happening to Steve Harrington, former paramour to Nancy Wheeler and apparently current pack-member to her and the Byers family.

    None of them are good.

    Kidnapped by someone who just… saw an omega out alone and wanted? Or… taken by someone with a network, to be trafficked. If the government and their little science experiment aren’t involved this time, then Harrington’s omegahood is a likely motivator.

    Worst case scenario, a lone alpha or beta looking for some fun. Worst because someone like that will panic when things go wrong, and a dead kid is easier to dispose of than a live one is to deal with, and when you’re already looking at kidnapping and rape charges, you take your chances on getting away with murder, maybe, before you take your chances on that omega’s mouth staying shut. But, not the likeliest scenario. The Harrington kid’s car was found abandoned with no sign of blood, no sign of a struggle, no sign of the owner being transported in the trunk… What they did find in the trunk was a baseball bat with some nails driven into it, and nothing clinging to it was blood– at least, not from any animal Hawkins PD could recognize. 

    Steve’s a fighter. He doesn’t look like the typical omega. Even if you got a whiff and wanted… no. He’d have put up a fight, and the attacker would have either had to give up, or there would be a lot more to go on, there’d be blood.

    Best case scenario… a couple. They’re having trouble conceiving, they know omegas are fertile, maybe they approach him with an offer first and he says no. They can’t take just anyone captive. But Harrington’s pack is completely divorced from his family, it’s not something just anyone would know about. They’d know that Harrington senior and wife are never around, maybe. They’d see him as someone no one would miss until it’s too late? Two people could overpower him… maybe. If one of them is an alpha, if he’d hesitated over really going all out against some nice-looking suburban couple? Or, they drugged him. Odds are he vanished from the bar, it would be easy enough. Stuff him in the back of the minivan they’d failed to fill with snot-nosed brats, hubby takes him home and gets him chained up while wifey ditches the car? And it’s not great, he’s still probably chained to a basement radiator while the nice-looking suburban couple has tense arguments about how it’s going to go as reality sinks in… Once they’ve gone that far, they might feel a little queasy about raping the poor kid. Might take a while to work up to it, might desperately hope they can convince him to go along with it like he’s in a position to say yes or no, just to ease some consciences… but, they’ll feed him well, they won’t hurt him just for fun, there’ll probably be… vitamins? They’ll just need to find him and then bringing him home will be easy. Hopefully soon enough that if he has any little problem he wants to deal with, no one ever has to know.

   And, somewhere in the middle… professional trafficking. 

    On the one hand, the better equipped they are for the job, the less likely they are to panic and kill him. Male omegas are rare, Harrington’s not yet twenty… the masculine build will be a turn-off for some, true– there are those who would love the… what, prestige, of a male omega, but only one who they could pretend was female when it came down to it. He’s pretty , but it’s not a feminine kind of pretty. Still… an alpha who does appreciate the male form would go for him, especially one who likes them young. Or, he could be bought as a ‘companion’ for someone close to his own age, too– not every fuck with more money than morals is an old man, and even an old rich fuck might buy an omega for a son or, less statistically likely, daughter. Or, again, a couple who doesn’t care about personal attraction when it comes to a surrogate– who like his genetics.

    Point being, Steve Harrington is worth a lot of money in the right hands, if he’s unharmed, or close to it. That’s the good news.

    The bad news is, the more resources, the better the network, the easier it is to keep him unharmed long-term? The easier it is to hide him from anyone who’s looking. The more reach, to move him who knows where.

    After a week? Steve could be anywhere in the world. Likely? Not especially. But even a nearby city would be difficult. His pack is stretched thin, and even when it comes to searching within Hawkins, they’re hampered by the loss of Jim, and…

    Murray pushes up his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. God, Jim… He and Joyce have grown close, in the wake of that crippling loss. The two of them were an almost, a possibility, a might-have-been, if they’d done better, been faster, left that hellhole as a trio and not a duo. And Murray hasn’t fared much better, with the feeling of being at fault in it. He had been so sure of himself. Why had he been so sure of himself? So sure he’d remember Planck’s fucking Constant when he got there. If he had, he wouldn’t have gotten his friend killed. One of the few he could still lay claim to, too.

    The one-two punch of losing him right after Alexei had been… unprecedented. Cut him deep in a place he didn’t know existed in him. He had promised Alexei safety– he’d promised sources safety before. He’d never gotten one killed. But he left him alone just for a couple minutes, and… 

    And they had barely known each other, but he’d liked what he’d known. He’d been looking forward to knowing more. But he’d failed him, and then he’d failed Jim, and…

    He had not felt like much of an alpha, after that. Granted, being friends with a guy like Jim Hopper, you either get used to that feeling or you base your self-esteem around something other than being the biggest, toughest guy in the room. Which had been fine by Murray, even before he met Jim, he wasn’t really that kind of alpha. Had a… weird relationship with his designation, over the years. A sort of a pride in it, that was divorced from what society at large wanted an alpha to be. Sure, next to anyone but Jim, Murray is tall. Hairy, if you care about that– if you don’t count the receding hairline. He’s never in his life had to make two trips to get the groceries in, or struggled with a stack of books almost too tall to see past, and that’s about as much as he ever thought about ‘alpha strength’. He doesn’t want people to see him as a stereotypical alpha, he doesn’t want people to see him as anything other than an alpha…

    But yeah. He felt like a real failure of one, after losing– failing– them.

    Still. An alpha is an alpha, right? And his place had been compromised. And Jim had left behind a little girl, and Murray will hold to the fact that he hates kids, but…

    He doesn’t hate El.

    He doesn’t hate Will, either. He guesses neither of them are young enough to be truly terrible. In that respect, they’re practically grown-up, even if in many, many other respects, El is anything but.

    She’s Jim’s kid, no matter how he got her. Murray figures… maybe he failed him once, but for damn sure he won’t do it again. And his place had been compromised, and the Hawkins Post was desperate enough to take on a disgraced investigative journalist, caring less about the disgrace and more about the Tribune on his resume. They couldn’t afford to ask about the gap. 

    Most of his shit is in storage. Eventually, he’ll get a new place of his own. For now… he’s in the Byers family basement, he and Joyce both drag themselves through the routine of work and grapple with the cavernous feelings in their chests. Murray cooks dinners. The kids slowly unpack themselves across the house as it struggles to become a home, and they navigate the loss. Even the boys, for whom Jim wasn’t any particular figure in their lives– not one with a label like ‘father’ or ‘stepfather’-- are dealing with a loss.

    He was something of a pack alpha, at least, had been folded into the role in a pack formed not out of the bonds of blood or marriage so much as by the thing they call the Upside Down. Which Murray guesses means he’s in it. But he doesn’t know the rest of them– not beyond Nancy, and beyond what he’s gathered about those who were also at Starcourt. And even if he did, he couldn’t step into Jim’s shoes. He doesn’t know if it’s that he’s not that kind of alpha, or just that no one can.

    Anyway. He’s in this now, and it’s the most himself he’s felt since the fourth. The Hawkins Post hasn’t exactly been taxing, hasn’t made him feel like a real reporter again, but the hunt for Steve Harrington?

    He can sink his teeth into that.

-/-

    Fuck.

    Eddie really can’t catch a break.

    Not halfway into August and he’s lost three jobs in one summer, that’s gotta be some kind of record. 

    First, Thatcher Tire wasn’t doing enough business to keep him on when the guy they’d hired him to replace recovered enough to go back to work. Okay. Not his fault. He was a hard worker and old man Thatcher was happy to say as much if anyone called for references, but they’re a small business and that guy had been with them years, Eddie was just a temp.

    Sam Goody. Also not his fault. The mall burned down, and Eddie did not get a reference.

    But the Hideout? The Hideout stings.

    The owner did say they could still play Tuesdays, which is fine during the summer but could be a problem once school starts. It’s gonna be Eddie’s last chance to graduate, plus the other guys are all still in school. But they lost Fridays, and Eddie lost the, like… job that actually pays. 

    All because the new bartender has a fucking problem with him from last year at school, which… How is Eddie the one losing his job about it? He’s been there longer, and he works hard! He does!

    But he’s not, what, charming enough? Good at making up lies and shit about a guy?

    It’s just easier, he guesses, if he’s not there. If he shows up for one gig a week when the asshole isn’t working.

    He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he’s going. He can head for home with his tail between his legs later, lick his wounds, but right now…

    He just doesn’t know. 

    He drives past a couple farms, past an old catholic school. It can’t be open, because the Jesus out front has chipping paint. He hangs a uey and pulls into the lot because it feels like a good target for all his pent up ire, and he thinks about pitching rocks at the big guy, and then… doesn’t get out of the van. Screaming and ranting is one thing, but he guesses he’s not quite lapsed enough to throw shit at the Son of Man or whatever. 

    Not because he believes in any of that shit, but… because Wayne does, and Wayne would be disappointed, if he found out Eddie vandalized a statue of Jesus, even an abandoned one with chipping paint and bird shit. 

    He rolls down his window, and leans out a little.

    “Hey! Tell your old man I said fuck you!” He yells. “Three jobs!”

    He feels a little stupid, now that he’s done it. 

    More than a little.

    “That’s okay, my dad’s an asshole, too.” He offers. The statue, of course, says nothing. “He’d probably sacrifice me for a beer, at least yours had like… the salvation of mankind on the line, huh?”

    He doesn’t even believe in this stuff. What is he doing?

    “Sorry.” He adds. “For blowing up at you and shit. Not, uh… nothing personal, just. Really bad day. For me.”

    The Jesus in front of the old school isn’t having a bad day– though there’s doubtless one inside who is. There always is. But this one is smiling serenely in the face of Eddie’s unhinged performance, in robes that used to be partly red and are now less-partly red. His pose is very suffer-the-little-children-to-come-unto-me and shit, open and welcoming and friendly.

    “I was gonna throw rocks at you.” Eddie confesses. “But, uh, guess that’s not very… not very cool of me. I mean, I’m definitely not without sin, so.”

    He spends another few moments just being agitated and feeling weird inside his van, before hopping out. He sits on the lip of the planter bed that the big plaster Jesus is standing in and lights up.

    “You want a hit?” He asks Jesus. Jesus doesn’t. “Cool, well, let me know if you change your mind, man.”

    He’s nicely toasted when an angry janitor comes to shoo him off, too impaired to make the drive home.

    “Hey, what happened to… what happened to Jesus loving me?” He asks, half-indignant and half-giggly. “He’s cool with it!”

    “Get out!”

    “Touch up the paint on our Lord!” Eddie shouts back, but he makes a mad dash for his van when the guy looks like he’s about ready to strangle him. “It’s like you don’t even care!”

    He peels out in a hurry but he doesn’t go far, just finds a field where he can sleep off the high in the back before slinking home to admit to losing another job.

Chapter Text

    They’re making headway, with Murray’s help, but so much feels like too little, too late, and Robin just constantly feels like she’s a hair’s breadth from a panic attack. 

    The search as it stands is… it’s beyond her. None of it was ever really in her wheelhouse, wasn’t like cracking the Russian code with Steve and Dustin. It was all Nancy’s strengths and Robin had been along for the ride, but now she feels like she doesn’t understand anything and all she can do is worry. 

    Sometimes she and Murray both spend the night in Steve’s house, but she doesn’t think Murray even tries to sleep, when he does. There’s a bed right in the room they work out of, plus the second guest room, and it’s not like Steve’s parents would ever know if he spent a night in their bed instead of going back to the Byers’ basement, but she’s pretty sure he just… spends all night in front of their wall. If they’re there on the same night and she wakes up and can’t get back to sleep, she sees the light under the door. Sometimes hears pacing. Once, they met in the kitchen at two AM and he offered her a cup of coffee. She took him up on it.

    He’s looking for an omega trafficking ring, they have enough information that he feels like it’s their best line of inquiry, and…

    And, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to picture Steve. She just keeps seeing him like he was under Starcourt, when they dragged him in and she thought he was dead, and they had hardly even been friends, had maybe started to be, and suddenly everything felt empty, thinking now they never would be.

    He’s taught her some actually useful Russian phrases, along the way, tossed her a book she could translate word by word with the dictionary. She suspects just to give her something to focus on that isn’t the search for Steve, while he and Nancy do the real investigating. 

    “I just need you to keep it together.” Nancy tells her, when Robin asks what she can do. Sweeps off to follow some lead alone. Some connection she must have seen on the wall, that she didn’t tell either of them about.

    Murray hums, studying what Nancy had just been looking at, but he turns when Robin groans and throws herself down on the bed.

    “She’s not wrong. Keeping it together is a job.” He offers. He’s not big on touchy-feely sympathy, which she appreciates. If she wanted touchy-feely, she’d go to her parents. But… he’s not without a sympathy.

    He reminds her of Nancy in that way. He’s less coolly detached, more prickly and ready to rant about any given subject, but… the same, in the way they care deeply and don’t want to hug and cry and sing kumbaya about it. Which is kind of reassuring. Again, hugging and crying and singing kumbaya, she can get at home.

    “Keeping it together isn’t getting Steve back faster.”

    “Well, if there’s ever a code involved in all of this, we’ll need you– that was you, correct? The codebreaker at Starcourt?”

    She nods, not particularly mollified.

    “Finding Steve is… it’s only the start of this, you understand that?” He continues. “Getting him back isn’t going to erase any of what he might be going through. He could be in very rough shape. Nancy Wheeler isn’t who he’s going to need for that.”

    “We’re not– I’m not his new girlfriend.” She says. She’s never been sure how it is he knows Nancy, or how much of the ups and downs of the Steve-Nancy-Jonathan drama he knows, but he knows at least as much as Robin does. Not that Steve had ever wanted to dwell much on the stuff with Nancy and Jonathan.

    Murray snorts. “No. Does that mean he won’t still need you?”

    “... No.”

    “Damn straight. So. Like Wheeler said– keep it together. Be someone he can be safe with. There’s every chance we’re bringing home someone who’s been… severely traumatized. Threatened with enough, even if they haven’t physically harmed him– and that’s if they haven’t physically harmed him, which is only likely if we’re on the right track about who has him and why… and if he hasn’t– Well. Just… be ready to take care of him.”

    “I will.”

    “I’m… This isn’t to, you know. I’m not trying to scare you here, I’m just–”

    “Being realistic?”

    “Yeah.” He blows out a sigh. “Tracking him down if he’s been sold is going to be very hard. How he does depends a lot on the buyer. Feral is a possibility. And there are no guarantees. But– I would really like… to get to find a kid alive here. I would really like that.”

-/-

    If summer ends while Steve is stuck here, he’s going to be seriously pissed off. 

    He’s seriously pissed off enough as it is, he guesses, but he’s used to fucked up situations. This summer has been full of fucked up situations of many kinds! 

    It’s just… stuck here, there’s no jumping into the pool when it’s hot out. There’s no talking to Robin about this, that, and everything while they work the same shift at Family Video. No gaggle of kids spilling in from the arcade to make demands. 

    What if he gets out and all his friends are in high school and he’s stuck working all his shifts with Keith? Will he even still have a job? Keith can’t fire him for getting kidnapped, right?

    Shit, what if he got fired for getting kidnapped?

    He is getting out. He’s watching for any kind of opening in security all the time, he’s playing up being the big dumb jock who never had to learn how to be a proper omega before, putting on the whole act. Wide-eyed, pretty, and trying his best (bless his heart), and just… not good enough. Not good enough to send through to whatever hell comes next, but not bad enough to send back to the previous hell. 

    They punish him, but compared to the Russians, it’s not even like being punished. No one hits him, and they haven’t drugged him since he needed to be transported, and no one threatens him with scary implements or anything, it’s just school shit, basically. He has to sit in a corner and think about what he’s doing wrong– well, his room is basically solitary confinement– or they give him extra work to do and he messes it up just enough. Even the stuff he’s good at. He’s been cooking for himself and doing his own laundry and cleaning… most of his own house, for years, but they don’t know that he hasn’t lived off pizza bagels and wallowed in filth between visits from the maid. He tries to break something every other time they have him do dishes– he gets stuck with clean-up duties a lot as a punishment. 

    He figures, if he breaks a glass every time, they’ll know he’s doing it on purpose. The last time, when it was a saucer, he yanked a hair out of his wrist while his hands were hidden by dish suds, in the hopes it would make his eyes water, really sell his ‘distress’ over it. He’s never learned to fake cry, and he doesn’t want to try and go too hard and have it look fake. Carol was a master at that shit, though, and he can pull a couple moves from her playbook without going the whole nine yards. Mimics the way she would breathe and blink and look up.

    He’s getting better at controlling his scent, another thing he never had to do before, when he was masking it all the time. 

    He’s getting better at a lot.

    They don’t punish him by taking away yard time entirely, though he gets less than most of the girls. He runs laps, when he’s out there. He’s getting used to the grass under his bare feet, and at least no one tells him he’s not allowed to run. There are a bunch of exercises they’re all encouraged to keep up, jazzercise shit and crunches and leg lifts and side bends. Nothing wrong with the athletic look, one of the wardens had said, as long as you keep slim and trim. Flat tummies and sculpted asses, or whatever. 

    But fuck that, right?

    When Steve is alone in his room, he exercises. There’s nothing he can do for weight lifting, outside of being on cleaning duty and being asked to carry a bucket of water somewhere, and he would kill for a chin-up bar, and he doesn’t dare do anything that would make enough noise to draw attention. 

    He does a lot of push-ups. Squats, too, if he hasn’t had enough running. If it comes down to really having to fight his way free, he’s got to be able to win. And he’s got to be able to make a break for it. He’s got to be in the best fucking shape of his life. 

-/-

    Eddie doesn’t know why he drives out the same way again. It’s a couple days later, and he can’t really afford the gas.

    Well, he can. He still has his regular customers, and if he refrains from dipping into his supply for personal enjoyment, that’s money. There’s a whole crop of new seniors and recent-ish graduates still bumming around Hawkins– not off to college yet or just not destined for it– who know and more or less trust him, but who wouldn’t dare look for Rick.

    And… he knows anyone who did graduate, he should be pointing Rick’s way. Eddie’s not Hawkins’ dealer, and he’s not allowed to be– he’s Hawkins High’s. An underling and not a competitor. Not like it’s competing when he has to go to Rick himself. He could mark shit up and pocket the difference to kids who wouldn’t know better– he does, when they’re assholes with money. But he can’t exactly cut Rick out. 

    So, he does not smoke up with Jesus, when he gets to the old school, just rolls past it, curious. There are no cars. It all looks about the same by daylight, just worse. Shabbier. No one’s given Jesus a paint job, or even scrubbed away the bird shit. 

    So who chased him off?

    He doesn’t stick around, gets the fucking heebie-jeebies at the thought of being caught. Just takes a turn on a dirt road that he hopes will get him back… somewhere. Takes the next turn back towards the old highway. 

    Stops, instead, in a field across from what can’t and must be the back of the old school. 

    Heebie fucking jeebies.

    Eddie finds the old highway and tells himself he’s not going to think about that place. Or he’s going to write a very ex-catholic horror story about it, maybe turn it in for the English class he knows he’ll pass easy. One of the only classes he knows he’ll pass easy.

    Shit fuck, but he cannot catch a break.

-/-

    Dustin does not want to start the new school year without Steve.

    He guesses none of them do, but it’s not fair, it’s not the same. Will has Jonathan. Lucas has a dad. Mike… well, Mike has a dad, but Nancy is probably way more helpful with literally everything, outside of maybe shaving, and he doesn’t think Mike has to worry about that yet, anyway. 

    Steve was Dustin’s person, who he could go to about all this shit. About worrying about school, and fitting in, and– well, he doesn’t have to worry about talking to girls now, he has a girlfriend, but… all the other stuff. He doesn’t want to have to navigate that alone, and at a new school, where instead of being at the very least a nerd who was older than half the kids there, he’s gonna be a freshman.

    “Hey, Robin? Do kids at school think you’re cool?” He asks her, because in the absence of Steve, she is at least Scoops Troop, and that’s something real.

    “Yeah.” She snorts, rolling her eyes. “They’re probably gonna make me prom queen.”

    “I was afraid of that.” He frowns. “... Do kids at school think Nancy is cool?”

    “I don’t think so.” She pushes his hat down a little. “Sorry. I– Kids don’t think I’m uncool. I’m just… sort of there, I guess. I don’t think anyone thinks about me enough to think I’m cool or not cool. It’s just… hard. I mean… for everyone! So– you’ll… do great? Sorry. Steve would have said the right thing.”

    “Probably.” Dustin sighs. “Are you getting close to finding him?”

    “Nancy thinks maybe. I’m not… super useful, with all this stuff. She’s like… Nancy Drew. Or Lois Lane! Anyway– we’ll find him. We will.”

    She sounds like she really means it, at least.

Chapter Text

    “I talked to my contact.” Murray says, presents it to them with a deep breath like he’s bracing them for what’s coming, but not… 

    Nancy doesn’t know. Not like he has bad news. 

    “What contact would this be?” She asks, giving Robin’s arm a gentle squeeze. Something in her relaxing when Jonathan reaches out to do the same for her. 

    The kids are here, which is why Jonathan is here– helping to clean the house, and then to make sure the house smells like all of them. Making sure that Steve comes back to a welcoming home. But with Will and El surrounded by friends, it means Jonathan actually can join them in the war room.

    “He did a lot of undercover work, exposing an omega trafficking ring up in Chicago. He’s faxing over anything he thinks we’ll find useful. It’s a different game out in the boonies, of course, but it’s… There are certain advantages. There’s a chance wherever they’ve taken Steve, it’s not too far, and it’s not too late. I don’t love our odds of anything going smoothly, but there’s a chance.”

    “Advantages?”

    “No dedicated unit to dealing with that kind of thing out in the country. As you well know, small town cops see a young person vanish and assume they ran away from all the corn and boredom. And, it’s easier to find a place out in the middle of nowhere to stash your victims, where the neighbors won’t hear any screaming.”

    He has a point about the cops– they had not taken Steve running off seriously, prior to the discovery of his abandoned car. It had been a repeat of everything with Barb, the assumption that running away was just something he might do, the refusal to actually listen to the people who knew him, the suggestion that he was out of town with his parents…

    At least with Steve, maybe… maybe they get a better ending.

    “It’s gotta be harder to find buyers. That’s part of it, isn’t it?”

    “Well, that’s why I’m trying to track down anyone who’s part of that network. Anyone who got off without a conviction, who can name someone else, who can tip me off when the feelers go out. If it’s out in the country near here, they’ll need a way of getting the word out to out of town buyers… probably disguise the whole thing as a private livestock auction– right time of year, and no one questions out of towners rolling out to a farm somewhere with livestock trailers. And if it can transport cattle, it can transport people.” Murray is pacing now– it’s impossible to tell how much of what he’s saying came from his contact and how much he’s figuring out in the moment.

    “But you think you’ll be able to get in touch with someone who might know, about the people who took Steve?” Nancy zeroes in on the important part. Once they have Steve, then they can alert the authorities, and piece together what they don’t know for certain.

    “Possibly.”

    She takes a breath. 

    “How– how long would that take?” Robin asks shakily. 

    “That, I can’t say. It could be a big game of telephone just to get to a dead end. At this point I don’t have anything yet. When I do, I’ll have to go in solo.”

    “What?” She squawks, and Nancy clamps a hand down on her shoulder this time. Less for comfort and more to keep her from flying off. “Solo? But– but– what if–?”

    “Teenage girls don’t buy trafficked omegas.” Murray points out. “Alphas do. Usually adult male alphas. I just have to play up being… unsavory. Our best bet… if they’re smart, I won’t be able to record anything while I’m there. We need to get Steve out first, then we can go to the authorities with what we know. He can make a statement if he’s up to it, he might not be… much depends.”

    “Solo?” Robin repeats.

    “How are you planning on getting him out?” Nancy asks.

    “I’ll probably have to pay for him. And hope that it’s not too late to get my money back after the authorities sweep in…” He grumbles a little over that. “Well, our money, I think the whole pack may have to pool our resources. I’ve got a little chunk set aside, but while I am assuming Steve will go for less than a house, I’m also assuming Joyce would eventually like to have me out of her basement.”

    “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having an adult who knows how to cook around.” Jonathan ducks his head, smirk playing around his lips. “Mom has a tendency to burn mac and cheese if she gets distracted.”

    “Yes, well, be that as it may.” Murray doesn’t exactly preen, at that faint praise, but he doesn’t seem displeased by it, either. “Steve is young, healthy, good-looking, presumed fertile, it’s going to be a high price if I get a private audience, and higher if he goes to auction. With any luck, I can get in and offer enough cash up front to avoid the risk, but if he does go up for auction, we need enough to win. And that… that’s something I can’t guarantee. Talk to everyone– I know whatever the kids might have gotten paid off with is locked up in trusts, but… none of them have to pony up their college funds, I’ll put up the bulk of it and hope for the best, and everyone else… just see what we can come up with.”

    Nancy thinks it’s a safe bet Robin will hand over every last cent she has access to. She knows she’ll provide a chunk of her own savings, and Jonathan will do the same, what he feels he can afford to. The young kids don’t have access to much, but she also knows they’ll try.

    “I’ll organize the troops.” She volunteers, nodding towards the door, and the sound of the kids beyond.

    “I’ll show you where Steve’s dad keeps the fax machine.” Robin nods.

-/-

    Eddie doesn’t love that he’s repeating senior year again, but he does love the fresh group of little sheepies this year brings. Hellfire hasn’t had new blood since Gareth, and this intrepid foursome shows promise. Sure, they entered the cafeteria quivering in fear, but there was the stuff of adventurers within them. One of them had a Weird Al shirt, that had to be good for something. True, a couple of his companions wore the garb of total normies, but one can’t be too quick to judge. Sometimes a kid wears a polo and khakis on the first day of school and it’s not a true indication of who he is deep down, merely the first impression his parents would have him make.

    The foursome is a little withdrawn, but such is the way of the nerd new in school. They all open up when Eddie brings up D&D and Hellfire. And once that door is open, Eddie learns more about them all in short order– that the morose normie is ‘just upset because his girlfriend might have to homeschool for the first semester’, that the Weird Al fan has a long-distance girlfriend he talks to over HAM radio, in fact, and another boy is currently off-again with a girl, and that Will Byers, who went missing that one time, rolls his eyes so loudly whenever the subject turns to girls.

    Eddie feels that.

    He also learns that they didn’t play much over the summer because ‘a lot of stuff happened’, but the consensus does seem to be that they’ll all join up now. Eddie tells them when and where to bring their level ones, and holds onto the hope that this year will be better.

    Yeah, that hope doesn’t last long. 

    Not because of the freshmen, who are great, but because it only takes a week for the reminder that O’Donnell has it out for him to be slammed home. 

    Saturday is dead, no parties to try and market his wares at. Instead he goes for a drive. 

    He could try and tell himself he doesn’t know exactly where, but he’d be lying.

    The wall is out of place in a way that really raises his hackles. He doesn’t plan on actually approaching the damn thing, not on his life. Not until the wind shifts, and instead of cow, cow, and more cow, he’s hit with…

    God, with every good thing. Vanilla and caramel, fresh cut grass and leather. It’s acrid with distress, burnt and off, but he still knows it when he breathes it in. It’s made for him. 

    He finds himself there before he can stop to think. He hadn’t even noticed taking off his seatbelt. 

    He feels kind of like a creep pocketing the sock he finds balled up on the ground, but that’s what the scent is coming off of. He feels like the world’s most pathetic Prince Charming. Looking for the omega who lost this sock. What they were doing out here, and how you’d lose a sock out by the wall, he couldn’t say.

    It’s not until he makes it home, when he goes to carefully wash away the dirt but not the scent in the kitchen sink, that he sees the writing stitched into the sole. 

    He thinks he’s going to be sick.

-/-

    In the end, it all comes together quicker than Murray had been anticipating– he works his way through the leads he’d been given, several roads seem to lead to someone working in the mayor’s office, and he sets up a meeting that takes him out to a house in the middle of nowhere.

    Which is… not entirely encouraging, true, but it’s about what he expected. 

    The man who meets him gives his van and his clothes a look, somewhere between dismissive and uncertain.

    “I find it helps to keep a low profile.” Murray puts on his oiliest smile, and shows off the briefcase. The briefcase which is full of money. God, someone remind him why he thought it was a good idea to drive to the middle of nowhere with a briefcase full of money to meet with criminals… “And the van is all set in the back, to transport any purchases.”

    There is one concession to common sense and safety in the back of his van– Nancy Wheeler, with a radio, and a gun.

    The rest of the pack is assembled at the Harrington house to wait. If things go south, if he just never comes back, she has his keys, too. She can call to let them know what went wrong if they need to call in the cavalry. And she can defend herself, if anyone does try to come out and break into the van while he’s inside.

    It probably won’t come to that, but the thing about being paranoid is, you only have to be right once.

    The man– not the one he’d initially tracked down, so he can only assume an associate, an underling– leads him inside, and then down into the basement, which is… extensive. And there are five women down there who he will have to send someone to rescue, but who are not Steve.

    “I was hoping you might have a male.” He says, aims for something just to the mocking side of confessional whisper. “I know they’re rare, but I was prepared to pay for it.”

    “Like you say, they are rare.” The man says, his accent pronounced, his shrug disinterested. “But, leave your number upstairs and maybe we can call with good news, some other time.”

    A number. Shit. He hadn’t prepared for that. But… it’s not impossible. It’s not impossible. He’s got a phone that’s very difficult to trace, semi-portable enough to set up at mission HQ. He can give a number.

    He still continues on making the full circle of the room. Commits women’s faces to memory so he can be sure that they get them all, when the full-scale rescue commences– or, if they don’t, so he knows who they still need to track down. He makes a show of seeming to consider them all as distant runners-up. 

    And then, they reach a door, and the scent reaches him, curls around him like he’s a cartoon character walking past a fresh-baked pie on he windowsill. Strong black tea with lemon, and so much sugar.

    “Him.” He points to the door, and this is not the plan. “I want him. How much?”

    “Ah… this one–”

    “How much?” He growls, pretends he’s a man who never has to ask twice when he wants something. “I said I want him.”

    “... How did you know it was a him?”

    Murray taps his nose. The man in front of him is a beta, he doesn’t need any more than that. 

    “He’s on his own in there recovering from something. And he doesn’t speak English, but he can learn his place anyway.”

    “How much?”

    The price gets knocked down for those two things, and it’s pure luck, because Murray is in no mood to haggle. 

    It’s not Steve Harrington, he’s pretty sure it can’t be. If it is, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do about the fact that it is his true mate back there.

    He pays.

Chapter Text

    Alexei.

    It isn’t possible, but it is undeniable. At the heart of a makeshift hospital set-up shoved into a glorified storage space, Alexei. And he must have been on some heavy duty scent-blockers before, or Murray would have realized then, that…

    He wouldn’t have lost him, if he had known. He couldn’t have.

    He tries to communicate with a look, that they’ll talk later. That right now, they can’t. It isn’t the end of the world if the guy realizes they know each other. Murray already forked over the money, it would line up with his insistence on buying the omega behind the door sight unseen. But… the less they know, his name included, the better. Alexei is surprised to see him, but he doesn’t say anything in front of his captor, just looks at him with the widest eyes, and no telling how much of the relief-shock-confusion-fear-pain in his scent is something a beta can even pick up on, but the man who’s just taken Murray’s money doesn’t blink.

    Not all the money, but a hefty chunk of what had been Murray’s personally. 

    Worth it.

    “Where are his clothes?”

    “Doesn’t have any.” The man goes to a cupboard, pulls out a bottle, and tosses it to Murray. “Give at mealtimes, twice a day, until bottle is empty.”

    “Shoes?” He pockets the pill bottle.

    “Doesn’t have any. You can transport?”

    “I can transport.”

    “Normally we sedate them first, but… this one, you can handle.” He nods. Murray does not care for the amusement in his tone, but what is he going to do? Start a fight now, when he’s so close to getting Alexei, his Alexei, out?

    No. Get Alexei out, don’t raise any suspicions, don’t compromise the ongoing mission, he and Alexei can catch up and fall apart and put themselves back together once they’re safe.

    Alexei isn’t hooked up to an IV, there’s not much to fuss with. He just has Alexei hold onto the much lighter briefcase, and then he scoops him up and carries him out. His back isn’t so young that he can complain, that Alexei isn’t heavier, but he feels like Alexei should be heavier. Alexei is alive, anything else… anything else they can deal with. Alexei is alive.

    “What is going on?” Alexei whispers, once the door closes behind them. Once it’s safe to breathe. Murray nuzzles at his temple and sets off across the dark parking lot. His van is under the single working light, he has to get them around to the other side where Nancy can open the door for them.

    “That’s what I would love to know. I thought you were–” He takes a deep breath. “I though we lost you.”

    “I woke up in that room. Alive– this surprised me, too. All I know, some of the men from Starcourt who were also working closest with mayor’s office got involved in this business. High level enforcers looking to enjoy side perks. Only betas are allowed to directly interact with any of us. At one point they moved me in with the others, but I was not recovered enough, I got sick, they moved me back into that closet… so I know very little. But I know some.”

    “Well, anything you can tell us about the operation, it’ll help.” He kicks the side of the van, shave-and-a-haircut, and waits for Nancy to slide the door open. “We’re going to destroy them. For right now…”

    “That’s not Steve.” Nancy says sharply.

    “Astute.” Murray sneers a little. “Steve wasn’t there. And– I couldn’t leave him. Don’t worry, I didn’t have to spend anyone’s money but my own.”

    “We had a plan–”

    “And Steve wasn’t there. Which means we need a new plan, which means– We just, we need a new plan.” He gets Alexei bundled into the middle seat, finds a sweater he can pull on over the hospital gown he’s in before buckling him in. “Once we get back to headquarters, Alexei will give us some information, and we’ll figure out if they ever had Steve, and where he is. For now, just… I don’t know, radio ahead. Let them know things hit a wrinkle.”

    “A wrinkle.” She looks flatly unimpressed. Murray doesn’t care. 

    “I can’t rescue a kid who isn’t in the building, it’s a wrinkle, I admit it’s not ideal.”

    “What’s the matter?” Alexei tugs at his sleeve, before he can head for the driver’s seat. 

    “Don’t worry about it. It’s… I’m looking for a pack member of Joyce’s. But he wasn’t there.”

    Alexei’s eyes widen. “They keep alphas, also.”

    “... What?”

    “I assume to force them into underground fighting. That’s where everyone’s clothing goes– to try to give them something to fight over.”

    “Okay… well, we will… I’m sure the authorities can deal with that once we get Steve out.”

    “Steve?”

    “That’s the kid’s name.” He nods.

    “Ah.” Alexei relaxes. “Then, when they say ‘the policeman’, it is not…?”

    He can’t help the pained look, at that. “No. It… Alexei, Jim… he didn’t make it out of the base.”

    “I didn’t make it, either.”

    “No, it was– Like you said, that thing… it turns people to dust. I don’t think it could be him. Still– whoever it is, they’ll take it seriously. We just need to get Steve clear, in case they try to clean up loose ends when the authorities show up.”

    “He is just a kid?”

    “That’s right.”

    “Then he would not be kept with us. Young ones they take to a place called convent… anyone that will fetch a higher price. They argued about me– I didn’t catch much, more in English. I assume despite the rarity of male omegas, I was considered damaged goods.” He rubs over where the scar must be, expression wry. “Neither young nor pretty enough to overlook that.”

    “You’re young and pretty enough. But I’m glad they didn’t move you.”

    “You spent money you need for rescuing this Steve on me… why?”

    “Wh– oh.” He peels away the neutralizing patch over his scent gland with a wince, sees the moment Alexei realizes. “Although, if I had known it was you, I wouldn’t– it wouldn’t matter, whether or not… Look, I need to get us on the road, now. Just… rest? And we’ll discuss it, we will.”

-/-

    “Steve wasn’t there. Over.”

    “What do you mean Steve wasn’t there?” Robin could scream. The whole pack is gathered at Steve’s and waiting to welcome him home and he wasn’t there?

    “I mean Murray says he wasn’t there.” Nancy says– on the other end of the radio, Robin can make out that Murray is saying something to her, but not what. “He says there’s a second location that they take more valuable omegas to. So we just have to find that now, I guess. Over.”

    “I’m going to scream.” She says. “And then I’m going to start pulling my hair out. Over.”

    “Please don’t. Is Joyce there?”

    “Everyone’s here!”

    “I’m here.” Joyce takes the walkie from Robin, and Robin collapses onto the sofa next to Dustin. 

    “Murray’s bringing home a Russian omega.”

    “Sorry, Murray is what?”

    “Um, that’s… yeah. How we know anything about this second location, he’s given Murray information about the trafficking operation. I don’t know how much he knows, but… be prepared for Murray’s mail-order bride.”

    “It’s Alexei.” Murray’s voice comes over more clearly now– still tinny, but audible. Robin looks around to see if that name means anything to any of the literal children who have been involved in this shit longer than she has, but apparently it only means something to Joyce.

    “He’s alive?”

    “He’s alive.”

    “He’s an omega?”

    “He’s an omega.”

    “Okay.” She starts pacing. “Okay, okay. Well, is he all right?”

    “He’s not great, Joyce, given a bunch of human traffickers patched up his gunshot wound, stole all of his clothes, let him get an infection, and then sold him to the first buyer. If someone could dig up a pair of sweatpants he can put on, maybe some old flip flops or… literally anything, before we get there, that would be great. Over and out.”

    “Not out, what about Steve?” Dustin jumps up to recover the walkie. 

    “We don’t know yet.” Nancy’s voice again. 

    Robin lets Dustin harangue Nancy about it for a while– she can’t take it out on this Alexei guy that he isn’t Steve, and she’s not sending anyone else to root through the Harringtons’ things. She gets a pair of sweats that she knows Steve doesn’t care about– not what he calls his ‘good workout sweats’, but the laundry day sweats, and she digs out Steve’s dad’s bathrobe and slippers, and moves all those things into the guest bedroom with their wall of shit.

    She screams a little bit in there. They probably can hear her from in the den, but whatever. She said she was going to.

-/-

    When Murray peels back the patch over his scent gland, it’s as if the van is suddenly filled with him. Strong coffee and cherry pirozhki– or at least some yeasty pastry that’s close enough as far as his nose is concerned, and a deep, warm musk, a hint of salt but mostly a scent that’s earthy and just sweet enough, the dark bitterness well-tempered. It’s welcoming, but not just because it’s a good scent. Because it speaks to him. Because Murray is for him. 

    If he had had the time before… if he had had the chance. If he had come back to Murray’s home, and been rested enough, and cleared his sinuses out after going from zero exposure to allergens for two years to hiking miles through the woods and then riding with the top down, if he hadn’t been so stressed about everything else… 

    Maybe Murray had used a prescription blocker at the time, but still, if they had gone back to his home together, eventually Alexei would have caught his scent strongly enough to be sure. And his own prescription blocker would have worn off, once he didn’t have them to take. They would have only stayed in his system thirty-six hours, and with all the sweating he’d done…

    Maybe subconsciously, they did know. He didn’t have Murray’s scent, nor Murray his, but with all the sweating Alexei had done that day, there were pheromones. And even with his sense of smell compromised, hadn’t he relaxed more in Murray’s presence the longer he was with him? Hadn’t he found it easy to get close to him? Hadn’t he been privately thrilled by his care?

    He rests, on the drive. Hears Joyce over the radio as Murray and the girl talk to their pack. 

    They take him to a big house, and Murray carries him inside. The house is full of children, they gather to stare curiously at him as Joyce and another teenage girl come to welcome them into the house. 

    Joyce says his name– anything else is lost on him, but Murray whispers the translation in his ear– it’s good to see you, I’m so glad you’re okay– and the other girl leads them to a room.

    Murray sets him down on the bed and Joyce ushers the girls back out– more he can’t follow, this time it must not be important, or maybe just not addressed to him, because Murray doesn’t translate.

    “My god, it’s really you.” He laughs, crouching down to help Alexei into a pair of sweatpants. Rests his head against Alexei’s knees once they’re on. “It was you all along.”

    “I should have known.” Alexei reaches out a trembling hand, cups Murray’s cheek. Feels the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his beard. “I was… summer allergies, I never knew. And–”

    “Blockers?” Murray nods, turns to nuzzle at his wrist. “From the other side of the door, I just… your scent hit me and all I cared about was getting you out. Imagine my surprise…”

    “And mine. I thought I would never see you again. And to see you in that place… I worried. That– I don’t know. That they wouldn’t let you leave. That they would take you to the other end of the hall. Obviously I’ve never seen any of where they keep the alphas, what it’s like, or any of the alphas that are brought in. Only when I was in the main room, sometimes we could smell them. If someone came from the other end of the facility you could smell on them, a little.”

    “We’re out. We’re out, and nothing bad happened to me. What about you? Did they hurt you? Did they feed you enough?”

    “I would be worth even less if they hurt me.” He shakes his head, smiling. “I was lucky I was found by someone who did know I was an omega, otherwise they never would have bothered saving my life… However, they did not feed me enough. I am starving.”

    “You stay here– facing the rest of the pack might be a little overwhelming. There’s a bathroom through there, though, and if you feel chilly, it looks like they brought you a robe and slippers you can use. Or– well, any of the blankets there.”

    “Whose room is this?”

    “No one’s. Guest bedroom– this house is Steve’s. Well, his parents– It’s a little confusing, Steve is a part of Joyce’s pack, his parents aren’t, but they’ve been out of town the whole time he’s been missing, no one has been able to contact them, as far as I know. The pack was here thinking I would be able to buy Steve back… And, this room is for when guests stay over, but we’ve been using it to–”

    “To keep track of your information.” Alexei nods, looking over at the wall, photos and notes and printouts, even a couple of newspaper articles. “You have been staying here?”

    “No. Well, yes, but not to sleep. Just, to work. I’ve been… I’ve been living out of Joyce’s basement.”

    “Both of us have been living in basements since we last saw each other?”

    “Well, Joyce’s basement is a lot nicer. When… when we lost Jim, she had to take his kid in. I was going to move after my old place was compromised. And… I thought, I would… you know. Help out. None of us were in a good place after that night… We’ll go back there later, and– Look, I know we’re… Believe me, I’m– I couldn’t be happier about it. Just that you’re alive, I couldn’t be… I just, I don’t want you to feel any special obligation. When we get there, you’ll take the bed, and I’ll take the sofa.”

    “Murray…”

    “No, no, I insist. You’re recovering, and– and we’ve never really had the opportunity to talk about… us. Right now, hungry, exhausted, dealing with everything, it’s– I don’t want you to–”

    “To feel obligated?”

    “Right.”

    “I was glad, too. That it is you.” He says, laughs softly at Murray’s look of surprise. “What? I shouldn’t be happy, to get a handsome alpha for my mate?”

    “Oh, uh– handsome?” He blushes, and Alexei strokes a thumb over his cheek, skin even warmer.

    “Very.”

    “Very handsome. You’re flattering me. You don’t need to– I mean, you– Feel free! But you don’t need to.”

    “I liked getting closer to you, before. I want us to be able to do that now. I am… recovering a little, yes. Maybe some things should wait until I have my strength back. But if I could have chosen any man, to be fated for, I would choose you.”

    “I would choose you, too.” Murray kisses the heel of his hand, gentle. “I’m going to bring you something to eat, then I probably have to debrief the pack… answer any lingering questions, schedule the next meeting to plan for the rescue we still need to mount… but then, I’ll take you home. Well, it– it’s home for now. For the foreseeable future.”

    “All right. I’ll wait for you.”

    It’s a very comfortable bed– the most comfortable he’s ever been in. He doesn’t bother with the robe, the sweatpants and Murray’s sweater keep him warm enough for now. Just stretches out and enjoys the freedom. He does step into the slippers when he gets up, washes his hands and face in the little attached bathroom. By the time he’s done that, Murray is back.

    “I brought you a sandwich. Well, two sandwiches, they seemed small.” He presents the plate, along with a can of coke. “Peanut butter. Take your time, I don’t want you choking, or making yourself sick… just– take your time. And I’ll be back again soon.”

    Alexei accepts the plate and the can eagerly, though he tilts up to be nuzzled before getting to either, smiling when Murray leans in to oblige him. 

    “Thank you, Murray.” He smiles. 

    Murray does hang around a moment more, hovering, and Alexei doesn’t mind that at all– likes it, really. He starts purring at his first bite, at which point Murray really seems conflicted about leaving. And then Alexei has to chew, and swallow, and take a drink and let the fizzy liquid wash away the thick sticky feeling, before he can speak.

    “Go. You can make me purr again later.” He teases. “The sooner you finish with your pack, the sooner you take me home, yes?”

    “Yes. They’re not my pack–”

    “No? You are moved in now with Joyce and her children.”

    “Well– yeah, but that’s– No–” He waffles a moment, then sighs. “I’ll go talk to my pack, and then I will take you home. I think it will be a lot easier if you start by meeting Joyce’s kids before I further expose you to all the other troublemakers.”

    “Okay, Murray. Thank you.” He smiles, and waves him off. 

    Home, with Murray. Home with his mate – well, as good as. They both know it even if the actual bite is something for the future.

Chapter Text

    When they do get back to the Byers house, Joyce introduces Alexei to her kids– El included– while Murray makes him a third peanut butter sandwich. 

    “I am… sorry I have nothing nice to say. Except your father was very brave.” Alexei says, when it’s explained who El is to the rest of them– to Jim.

    “He says he’s sorry he didn’t get to know Jim better, but he was very brave.” Murray says.

    “Is that what he said?” Joyce raises her eyebrows at him.

    Murray shrugs. “He didn’t exactly get to see his softest side. But in the brief time we were all, uh… preparing to get into it, with his old comrades, yeah. He did get to appreciate the man’s bravery.”

    “Well, thank you, Alexei.” She says, one arm around El’s shoulders.

    “Thank you.” El echoes, with a nod, eyes wide. 

    “What’s the story with him?” Jonathan asks, as Murray hands off the sandwich and fusses over Alexei a little, lets him eat on one of the couches– with moving in with the Byers family anyway, it’s somewhat of a mix of furniture, some of his jumbled in with theirs and with what was salvaged from Jim’s cabin.

    It’s a small house, one story and then the basement. El has to share the hall bathroom with her new brothers– Murray is grateful the basement has its own. He misses having a tub, but the shower is nice enough. The previous owners have done something very… open concept, with the main living space, but it must have been cramped before they took a couple walls out. 

    “Alexei, he– he’s the one who… Starcourt, he gave us the information, to get in, stop the, uh… the machine they were using to tear into the…”

    “Upside Down.” Joyce nods. “But we thought we lost him on the way there.”

    “One of the mayor’s goons, selling omegas on the side. Picked him up, they… they managed to save him, but god, you should have seen that place. It’s a miracle he only got one infection to fight off.” Murray huffs, only a little placated by Alexei’s happy little purr as he eats, as his hair is petted at. “He’s the reason any of us made it out of that mess alive, the reason we even knew about it in time to get to you there… and, ah, incidentally… I mean, I– I hate to use a phrase as banal as, as ‘true mates’--”

    “Wait, he is?” Joyce sounds enthused, at least, not judgmental.

    “We are, at least, remarkably scent compatible, that has nothing to do with the fact that Alexei is a hero, and he was defecting from the Soviet Union, and when I initially promised my help in getting him settled here, learning the language, gaining citizenship, he was on prescription blockers and I had no idea. I made those promises because he was helping us. I want that clear.”

    “Oh, crystal.” She smirks. “But, I mean… he is cute.”

    “Don’t– don’t call him ‘cute’. That’s not the point. He’s had a terrible ordeal, Joyce, a terrible ordeal, and I’m… I am fulfilling my earlier promise, and we’re… just going to get him settled any way we can, and… I mean, and I don’t even think it needs to be said, but obviously Alexei is taking my bed and I’m sleeping on the pullout sofa I have downstairs.”

    “Because of his ordeal.” She nods.

    “Yes.”

    “Yeah. Goes without saying.” Jonathan nods, a little too close to being amused for Murray’s taste. 

    The youngest two, at least, are perfectly polite. Both watch Alexei eat with a sort of wide-eyed fascination, which under the circumstances he doesn’t find too rude. At least, every time Alexei looks up and spots them, he smiles.

    “Tomorrow, I’ll see about getting you some clothes of your own.” Murray sighs. “You can borrow any of my things that you want until then, hm? I do pretty much all the cooking around here, breakfast and dinner, but you’ll be on your own for lunch if you want to stay at home. You can make all the sandwiches you want… What do you like for breakfast, anyway? Tomorrow I’ll make anything you want, to start the day with.”

    “Before all this? Coffee.” He shrugs, looks up to Murray– and he really does have the sweetest eyes, Murray never needed to know his scent to know he was a goner…

    “You didn’t eat?”

    “First thing in the morning? Why would I? I’m not a farmer, Murray. Maybe sometimes they fed us breakfast, in captivity… but there was no way of knowing what time. If you were tired or bored, you slept, if they wanted to wake you it didn’t matter what time. And I was unwell… in and out of it. Most of what they fed us was like… gruel.” He makes a face. “Like, if you took away everything right and good about kasha, and you were left with something thin and only a little warm and tasteless and gray.”

    “I am going to go out on a limb and say they were feeding you cream of wheat for breakfast, and you do not like it, noted.” He chuckles. “How about a big American breakfast, then? Eggs… sausage… waffles. They’re El’s favorite, you’ll like that.”

    “Well… if I should not take medicine on an empty stomach, I could be persuaded.” He smiles, cheeks pinking slightly. “I could like this… having an alpha to cook for me.”

    “All the time.” Murray promises him.

    Joyce digs up a spare toothbrush, and Murray is grateful for her buying in bulk when she does, and he and Alexei retire for the night. Downstairs, his attempts to take the sofa are cut short, though.

    “Where are you going?” Alexei snags the front of his shirt. 

    “Going to… make up a bed on the sofa? I thought– with you still recovering, uh, physically…”

    “Murray.” He whines, and it works, dammit. Murray just knows he’s about to create a monster, too, he’s about to give in to any demand Alexei ever makes of him, all he has to do is pout and bat his eyes… “I think, I will feel safer if I have my alpha in bed with me. Don’t you think so?”

    “Well, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.” He swallows. 

    “You don’t have to wear me out tonight, just because we are sleeping together.” He adds, though there’s a definite look in his eyes to suggest Murray could wear him out another night. Soon. “Maybe you can keep me warm?”

    He’s shrugged out of the sweater, and stripped off the hospital gown as well, leaving him in just the sweatpants, and he drags Murray after him, and Murray goes easily. 

    The weather isn’t too chilly yet, but the basement is cool, and yeah. Yeah. Murray could keep him warm.

    He lays Alexei down, and presses a soft kiss to the scar in the center of his torso, and changes into his own pajamas to join him.

    “For tomorrow… how do you like your eggs?”

    “However you make them.” Alexei purrs, cuddling up to Murray the second he’s there. “Surprise me.”

    “You, uh… you can do anything you like, with the bed. I– I don’t have– But I have enough, you could nest however you, however you need to. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you home some clothes and… and you can make things how you like them here. You can come with when the whole pack meets. That’ll be Tuesday– well– Hi. Hello.”

    “Hello.” He chuckles. He could not be more fully in Murray’s space, wound around him, pressing close. “My alpha.”

    “All yours.”

    “I’m glad it was you.” Alexei’s eyes flutter closed, on that softly sighed sentiment. “Always… I had to make choices in life. What I was allowed to want. The box is very narrow, for male omegas. I could be a man, suppress what the omega in me wanted, have a career. Travel from base to base, where there is no real possibility of nesting. Set aside all thoughts of romance. Or I could be an omega– I could still pursue a career, of course. But… there are only two ways, of having an alpha. A service can help match male omegas to female alphas, which I did not want. Or, I could make arrangements with a male alpha friend if our cycles matched up. Hope to conceive a child, which we would both be parents to, but we would never be intimate outside of a shared heat and rut, we would not mate. We could only live together if there was a child, and I would be expected to share a room with the child while he slept alone, we would not be as a married couple. And he would be allowed to move on and mate someone more appropriate, at which point they would decide whether I would have to move out and make arrangements regarding when to see our child. Which also I did not want.”

    “No, sounds like a nightmare.”

    “I didn’t want to have a child anyway. I like them very much, but… older children. I am not maternal, with an infant. I don’t think they are cute, especially. I do not want to hold them or fuss over them. Certainly I do not want to birth one. I– I hope that…”

    “I’m up to my ears in kids with this pack.” Murray shakes his head. “And most children are terrible anyway. Mine wouldn’t be any exception to the rule. You can help look out for these kids. I know you and El won’t be able to communicate much at first, but it would be good for her to have an adult at home… she’s got to study at home this semester instead of going to school with her friends, has to catch up. You can work on studying English while she works on studying… everything else. Keep each other out of trouble.”

    “I will like that. That is– that is better, for me. And… More than that, I mean… I didn’t want a female alpha, and I didn’t want a man who would never be my alpha. I wanted something impossible… with you, I have it.”

    “Just, to be with another man?” He strokes Alexei’s cheek. “To be in love with him? Loved by him?”

    “I hope so. I think love is… very possible, for us. I had begun to feel for you, why couldn’t it become love?”

    “Very possible.” He nods. “Alexei… People don’t always like when an alpha has a same-sex omega here, but… there are still protections that same-sex betas don’t have, under the law. And still… things are… We’re working, for things to be better for them, too. Fighting for it. It’s not always easy, it’s not always good, but you and I– We get to have this. Each other. I’m your alpha. In every way possible.”

    It’s all the assurance Alexei needs, to drift off into an untroubled sleep, and it pulls Murray right along with him.

    He’s not sure he’s ever felt as alive as he does in the morning, making breakfast for the whole household, getting to spoil Alexei with a heaping plate full of scrambled eggs, hash browns, apple-and-sage chicken sausage, and yes, toaster waffles, with hot coffee and cold orange juice and maple… ish syrup that he drenches waffles and sausage alike in.

    “So.” Jonathan drops into one of the chairs at the table, looking far too awake for a teenager in the morning, and suspiciously cheerful. “How was the pullout, Murray?”

-/-

    “Hey.” Henderson finds Eddie pacing and smoking out behind the library– he seems like not the kind of kid who makes a habit of ditching classes, so gym must be over.  “Are you, like… okay?”

    It’s a bold question, from a little freshman sheepie. Eddie’s aware that the uninitiated find him intimidating. Presenting as an alpha, he thinks, because before that, nobody ever found him intimidating. Just loud and weird. A fair question, though.

    “It’s just… you were, like, off, at lunch.” He carries on, when Eddie just stares at him. “The guys all kind of noticed, and Jeff was saying you’re not normally like that and it seemed, um, heavy. Not metal, just heavy.”

    “I could ask you the same, young adventurer.” He says, because there’s no way he can talk to a kid about what’s bothering him. He doesn’t know who he can talk to. He doesn’t trust Powell the way he might have been able to trust Hopper– sure, he’s a damn sight better than, like, Callahan, or probably anyone else left in Hawkins, but he’s still a cop, and not one who’s let him off with a warning and a pretty gentle scruffing. He still looks at Eddie like he’s waiting for him to go the same way as his old man. So really, Eddie doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t want to bother Wayne with it, his friends aren’t going to be able to help… But he can get Henderson talking about his own problems, walk with him to class. He stubs his cigarette out and nods for Henderson to proceed, but he doesn’t start moving.

    “Actually… a lot.” He says, starts pacing. Eddie prepares for stories about some class that’s difficult for even the junior super-brain, or problems with the long-distance girlfriend who all his friends say is much realer than she sounds, or the most likely, some story of bullies new and old. It’s not what he gets. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

    “I can keep a secret.”

    “Well… you know Steve Harrington?”

    Know him? Not exactly– not any more than anyone in a school this size. Aware of him? Oh yeah. Embarrassingly so. The only reason Eddie even attended gym last year was to watch Steve prance around in those oh so tiny shorts, be it on the basketball court or out doing track and field shit. Eddie attended swim meets– not that he could ever admit to why. After all… Steve Harrington. Not exactly who he was supposed to be interested in. 

    And even if he had been, they were from different worlds. Eddie wasn’t even allowed to dream about the guy, but dream he did. 

    “We’ve had a couple classes.” He shrugs. “Okay guy, for being just about the prime-est specimen of jockulus preppus.”

    “Steve’s not like that, and he’s not just ‘okay’. He’s… like, the bravest person I’ve ever met. He’s really cool. He’s a badass, Eddie, okay? I mean, I need you to understand this, Steve’s, like… he’s just really… he’s amazing, like that. And– fuck, I mean I really shouldn’t tell you this…” The kid looks briefly conflicted, guilty. “I can’t tell you why or like… about anything that happened over the summer, or anything else, it’s just– Steve’s actually super badass, so the fact that something happened to him is severely worrying. Got it?”

    “What happened to Harrington?” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Over the summer– shit, he wasn’t one of the people in the mall fire, was he?”

    Steve Harrington had worked just two doors down from Eddie, before the fire took that job from him, but he wouldn’t have been in the mall when it happened, would he have? Eddie heard that’s what happened to Hargrove, who was not a cool guy, and who Eddie had felt bad about being relieved to see the end of. Eddie’s always been a runner, not a fighter, but he’d had his fair share of close fucking calls with that psycho, ever since he showed up in Hawkins and proceeded to make Jeff one of his favorite targets.

    The fact that Hargrove’s other favorite target had been Steve had been a big part of what actually endeared him.

    “Well– that’s a long story. That’s not the– it’s just, Steve went missing, right? And– and Nancy, who used to go out with him, and Robin, who I keep telling him he should go out with and he wouldn’t, they were trying to find him. And they even brought in this PI!”

    “Steve Harrington’s ex girlfriend… hired a private investigator?”

    “Well… I don’t think anyone gave him money.” He stops short, thinking this question over. “Actually he might be part of the pack? I mean he lives in Will’s basement.”

    “Will Byers. Whose brother Jonathan is dating Steve’s ex girlfriend Nancy. Got it, not weird at all.” Eddie nods. It’s very weird.

    “Yeah, well.” Henderson kicks at a rock. “They were supposed to bring Steve home this last weekend, they had all these leads and– and we made a welcome home sign, that sounds stupid–”

    “Hey, hey, no.” He claps a hand down on the kid’s shoulder. “Not stupid. The leads turned up empty?”

    “Well… not exactly. We’re just kind of fucked because the guy who, um, who gave us another lead? Um… well, just– it might be way more complicated than we were ready for, and there might be, um, kidnappers? Who want money for him? Only Steve’s parents are in Europe and no one can get hold of them at all and we don’t maybe have the money, and even if we did, we’d nee–”

    There’s a long moment where Henderson doesn’t say anything. Eddie’s kind of worried.

    Then Henderson looks up at him and he’s worried for sure.

    “We’d need an alpha.”

    “And the only alpha in your whole pack was Steve?”

    “No. Steve's-- We don’t– I mean, Hopper was our alpha, but– And then we’ve got this guy living in Will’s basement, but they’ve already seen him and so he might be compromised. Eddie, you’ve done, like… dangerous stuff before, right?”

    “Uhh… I don’t know how to answer that.”

    “Like drug deals! You could do this!”

    Eddie really has no idea how to explain to Dustin Henderson that the biggest risk that comes from any ‘drug deal’ he’s ever done has been a drunk jock deciding he’d been overpricing his goods and kicking his ass on someone’s front lawn during a party. 

    “Kid, if Harrington’s getting ransomed and no one can get in touch with his folks, maybe…”

    Maybe what, Eddie? Maybe he should go to the fucking cops? The useless, incompetent hick cops? Is that what he should do? Is that what they should both do? The cops that never do shit about anything in this town, those cops? Henderson should go and ask those cops to pretty please not fuck up a ransom drop by deciding to be a cowboy about it?

    Yeah. He thought not.

    “Maybe I should talk to an adult in your pack about this?” He says in the end. Surely the adults will be… reasonable? They’ll say of course Henderson should never have dragged Eddie into this whole thing, because Eddie’s a super-senior– strike that, a super duper senior– and no one should be relying on him for a rescue. Can’t even fix his own shit. What good is he to Harrington’s pack?

    Which, apparently, Henderson is a part of…

    “Tuesday night, Steve’s house– do you kn–”

    “Yeah, I know Steve’s house. Used to throw a lot of parties.” He nods.

    “Eight o’clock. On the dot, Eddie!” He runs off for his next class. 

    “Eight o’clock.” Eddie sighs, ambling towards study hall, where they won’t really give a shit he’s late as long as he’s quiet. “On the dot, Eddie. Jesus, what are you getting yourself into?”

Chapter Text

    Alexei likes El. She’s a bright girl, despite the lack of proper schooling– the language divide means they don’t exactly get any small talk in, but he manages to help her with her math coursework, and she’s quick to improve. 

    They teach each other a few words, just for things around the house, while Joyce and Murray are at work and the boys are at school, over those first couple of days they spend alone together. It’s good enough that he’ll be able to ask if he needs something passed to him, salt or bread or milk, or tv remote. And in the course of helping her with her math, he learns the English name for some of the numbers, most of which are simple. If it ends in a -teen, that’s easy, though eleven and twelve are a little confusing in that they don’t. 

    As for the TV, he thinks Joyce might have asked him on Monday morning to make sure El finishes her school work first, but instead, they watch a game show while she does… maybe history? Something he can’t help with, at any rate. Instead he watches people guess how much things cost in the grocery store, which is… baffling, but very illuminating. Knowing more about how things cost than anyone else eventually results in a pleasantly round-faced and apparently quite competitive young woman with a blonde side ponytail and bright pink blouse taking home a dining table and chairs, and a matching storage hutch. Alexei lets El swear him to silence on the subject of their illicit television watching. On Tuesday, they spread peanut butter on toaster waffles and eat in front of the TV. 

    He brightens when Murray gets home that evening, pleased to be greeted with a warm nuzzle.

    “I brought you something.” Murray presents him with a shopping bag. “Eventually we can go and you can pick out some things for yourself, but… for now, a few things that are just yours. How was today? You two still getting along all right?”

    “Very well. I helped her with math today, she taught me how numbers are called in English. We did not burn down the house, as you can see, or jump on the furniture.”

    “Did you eat anything that wasn’t peanut butter and waffles?”

    “No.” He shrugs. El giggles. 

    Murray sighs dramatically about it, but he also kisses the cheek Alexei presents, rubbing gently at his arm.

    “Go on and put your new things away where you like, change for the pack meeting if you want to. I cleared out the top drawer just for you. We’ll have dinner here first, then head over. Remember, if you get tired, you can go lie down in the same room as before when we’re over there.”

    Alexei nods, giving Murray a little kiss in return, another nuzzle. “Thank you, Murray.”

    “Go on.” He gives him a little pat, directs him towards the stairs. 

    Alexei knows Murray wants to eventually put them in their own place, near enough to be able to still help look out for El, but with a little more privacy, but for Alexei, their little basement apartment is ideal. The windows are high and narrow, yes, but it’s been a couple years since he had windows at all, and it’s still far more privacy than he thinks he’s had in his life. Yes, they share the kitchen with the house upstairs– and they share the laundry, which Joyce or one of her kids would have to come down to do– but they have their own bath, and a little television set and couch, the bed around the corner where it can’t be seen from the staircase and the washing machine. There’s a dryer as well, though there’s also a rack for hanging delicates, and a line outside, to save on the energy when the weather is nice. But the fact that the machine is there at all is something. 

    There are posters up, from Murray’s old place, some for bands or concerts, some seem to be old advertisements repurposed as art? At least one appears to be patriotic in nature. Boxes of Murray’s records, and his record player. Houseplants soaking up what natural light the windows do let in. It’s cramped, but it’s homey. It just needs a little more softness, Alexei thinks. He hesitates to call it an omega’s touch, he’s spent his entire adult life in mixed-status dormitories living out of footlockers. He hasn’t nested since he first presented, there wasn’t really space to do it once he left for university, and certainly no place or time since. 

    But… that can change, now. He can make this place a little cozier, for the both of them. Not just the bed itself, but… a throw blanket for the sofa, too, things like that. 

    He opens the drawer and goes to unpack and put away what Murray has brought him, only the first thing he pulls out isn’t clothing at all, it’s a little plush bear. Blue, with stormclouds on its stomach and a little frown on its face. A little soft thing just for its own sake. 

    It’s… sweet, he thinks. When he was shot, and then taken, he lost the big cartoon bird plush he had won at the carnival– this little bear isn’t the same, but he accepts it as a replacement. He tucks it between their pillows, at the head of the bed– he could ask Murray to scent it for him, later. 

    He’s close enough to being overwhelmed before he even gets to the clothes, and when he does…

    There’s a soft shirt, long sleeves, good for an undershirt when the weather gets cold, but he thinks fine to wear on its own, in a woodsy green color. There’s a thick sweatshirt, which says Coca-Cola across the chest. There’s also a shirt very similar to the one he’d been wearing, the day they met. A package of plain undershirts and a package of plain briefs and a package of plain socks. One pair of slacks. One pair of blue jeans.

    He needs a moment, when he gets that far. Needs to sit on the edge of the bed and hold them and just process it all. That only a short while ago he was in a very different basement, and he never thought he would see a friendly face again, let alone a familiar one, and he wasn’t sure what would happen to him, if he would ever recover or if it would be a cycle of infections until they decided he wasn’t worth it, if someone would buy him just to mistreat him… and he owned nothing.

    And now, all of this. Murray, who already spent an untold amount on rescuing him, and now he’s brought him all of this…

    It feels like a lot. The jeans alone feel like a lot.

    He changes into them while he’s down there, though he keeps the shirt of Murray’s he’d been borrowing for the day– and borrows a belt from him to keep the jeans from slipping too far down. Murray has a lot of soft shirts, cozy knits and plush velour. Another soft terry one like he’d worn the day they met. It’s a very soft wardrobe for an alpha, but Alexei loves it– not just because he’s been borrowing from him, but also because they all seem very inviting to cuddle up to. 

    The bag also holds a blank notepad and some pens and pencils– a place of his own to scribble down ideas, or occupy himself doodling, or practice writing in English once he really gets going with his language studies. He appreciates that, too.

    “I hope you don’t mind I didn’t get you shoes yet.” Murray greets him when he comes up. “I was afraid of getting something uncomfortable. You’re going to have to wear socks and my sandals one of these days to get out to the store where you can try them on. But–”

    He cuts himself off, when Alexei barrels into him for a full-body hug, returning it one-armed since he’s currently stirring something on the stove. 

    “Thank you.” He whispers. 

    “You like it all?”

    “Very much. Murray… really, thank you.”

    “What, I was supposed to let you go naked?” 

    “I’m sure some alphas do. At least when their omegas are black market purchases.”

    “Well, you– I mean, that wasn’t a purchase.”

    “No, I know. It was a rescue that happened to look like a purchase, that’s not my point. Just… If someone with more money had bought me just to buy me, he wouldn’t spend more money on my comfort, and certainly not on my modesty.”

    “Jeans fit okay? I bought them a little loose, thought you’d put a little weight back on now that you’re out of that place. You weren’t… you didn’t seem underweight before.”

    “No. On base, I ate well, and even us scientists got more than a little exercise. Being bedridden a couple of months and hardly able to eat what they did give us… has not done me any favors. But it smells like you’re about to feed me very well yet again.”

    “Pasta, meat sauce. And a salad, if I can get those teenagers to eat any of it…”

    “Mm. Wonderful.” Alexei kisses his cheek. “I will eat salad. What kind?”

    “Just your basic green salad. Nothing very fancy. I’m going to throw it together in a minute, once everything here is simmering. You just sit and relax. Go on, join the kids in front of the TV. Enjoy some more American television.”

    Alexei gives him one last nuzzle for good measure, and leans over to breathe in the aroma of the meat in the pan, and the tomato sauce it has yet to be added to, on the back burner next to the pasta itself. 

    “You’d make a wonderful house-alpha, you know that?”

    “If only I could afford to, I’d quit my job and take care of you full-time. Go, sit. I won’t let you miss dinner.”

    Alexei nods. He gets tired out too easily still to protest, to try and help out. Will and El are watching something, and Jonathan is in his room studying, and when Joyce gets home, they’ll eat… and then, tonight, the pack meeting, where Alexei guesses he’ll get to know the rest of the pack a little more.

-/-

    It feels weird, parking outside Steve Harrington’s house, when there aren’t a dozen cars crowding the drive and the street out front– there’s another van, and a station wagon, and a pinto, so it’s not like he’s the only car there, not even the only car there that looks like it absolutely doesn’t belong in Loch Nora, but it’s still not like the kind of party he’d slip around the edges of. 

    There are also a few bikes on the lawn, and Eddie figures he can guess the owners. Well, he can guess most of them– there’s a girl’s bike that doesn’t belong to any of his little sheepies, too.

    He knocks on the door, feeling incredibly self-conscious– even moreso when Nancy Wheeler opens the door.

    “I’m sorry…” Her brow furrows in confusion– it only deepens as Dustin Henderson barrels in and edges past her.

    “Eddie! Come on in, you’re right on time!”

    “Dustin–” She hisses, glaring at him, and Eddie would shrink under a look like that, but Henderson just grabs his arm and yanks him into the house. 

    “I know what I’m doing!” He assures her. Eddie wishes he felt assured.

    The den is full– the new crop of Hellfire kids are all there, along with Sinclair’s infamous sister, the Mayfield girl from across the way, and another girl Eddie’s never seen before, though the fact she’s holding the younger Wheeler’s hand gives him an idea who she is at least. And Jonathan Byers, who Nancy goes to perch next to. Robin Buckley, who Eddie knows– well, kind of– and who he wouldn’t have guessed was a part of this. Will and Jonathan’s mom. A couple other adults that, again, Eddie does not know in the slightest, even to say hello to in church, as Wayne would say. 

    Not that Eddie’s been to church since he could help it. Closest he’s come in years was smoking up with plaster Jesus, and that got fucking weird fast.

    Those two get the bulk of Eddie’s attention, but it’s not because they’re total strangers– it’s because the omega sitting in the alpha’s lap is a man. And not some androgynous prettyboy like you might see on TV– might– he’s just some guy. Living in Hawkins, Eddie’s never actually seen a male omega. Only smelled one, the once…

    Anyway, they’re all staring at him now, except for Henderson, who looks like a cat that’s just dragged in a dead bird and is really proud of it. Nancy Wheeler is looking at Eddie about like she’d look at a dead bird, for that matter.

    “Hi, what is this?” The alpha in the room asks, gesturing to Eddie.

    “Totally my question, actually. So… uh, you guys are all… pack?”

    “It’s a long story.” Henderson waves for him to be quiet. “Guys, I brought Eddie in to help us.”

    “Help us how?” Nancy asks.

    “He’s an alpha!”

    “So?”

    “And he’s got experience!”

    “Experience with what?” Eddie asks, at the same time as several other people in the room. 

    “Driving like a maniac?” Mayfield suggests, arching one eyebrow.

    “You’re one to talk.” Mike says under his breath, which is pretty fucking concerning. A car? Mayfield has driven a car?

    “Drug deals. It’s totally applicable. A criminal deal is applicable!” Henderson says, and Eddie winces. 

    “It’s actually not that– I mean, I really don’t–”

    “Look, guys, did we or did we not need an alpha to go in undercover?”

    “Yes, me.” The alpha in question waves an arm, careful not to dislodge the omega perched in his lap. “I’m the undercover alpha, job covered, we’re not handing it over to some kid who sells you weed.”

    “I don’t sell to freshmen.” Eddie says quickly. “That’s not– I mean, Henderson here might be a little confused, about what it is I… about what I have experience– Sorry, what the hell is going on? Steve’s been kidnapped and you need an alpha to get him back because his folks are incommunicado?”

    “And we have one, and we did not need to bring an outsider into this.”

    “Murray’s been compromised–”

    “Murray has not been compromised.” The alpha, who Eddie guesses is Murray, argues, looking as done with Henderson as it is humanly possible to look. Eddie should know, he’s seen the kid rules lawyer. “Murray can go back in.”

    “But you already bought one omega–”

    “What the fuck?” Eddie says, and is ignored.

    “And who’s to say I can’t buy another one? Maybe I collect male omegas, maybe I’m some pervy little creep, ninety percent of their business is from pervy little creeps collecting omegas like baseball cards.”

    “What, I repeat, the fuck?”

    “Oh– oh, honey, don’t worry about it.” Will and Jonathan’s mom says. “God, I know it sounds bad– Murray didn’t buy an omega, that’s Alexei, they’re– they knew each other before. And Alexei has been trying to help us fill out what we know about the omega trafficking operation in Hawkins, but that’s– Dustin really never should have brought you in, this isn’t anything you need to worry about.”

    Eddie wishes that were true. He really, really does. He has a sinking feeling he needs to worry about this very much, in fact. 

    “What does an omega trafficking ring have to do with Steve Harrington?” He asks, because that part does seem wild.

    The room goes silent, and very, very still. 

    “Like, did Harrington cross those guys? Did he get in the way or try to stop someone getting taken, what’s the deal?” He presses. 

    “Not important. Not your business.” Robin says, arms folded across her chest, everything about her suddenly unfriendly in a way she’s never been with him before. “Like she said, Dustin shouldn’t have brought you, you’re not needed.”

    “No, wait– Wait, I’ll help! Whatever you need.”

    “I mean, he knows this much…” Jonathan sighs, running a hand over his face.

    “Eddie is really cool.” Mike shrugs, coming to stand at Eddie’s other side. “Maybe he could help.”

    “Well, we don’t need some kid alpha–”

    “I’m twenty.” Eddie says. It’s almost true, anyway. End of October, but who’s counting?

    “Twenty and an alpha?” Murray looks him over, skeptical. Which, okay, ow. So Eddie’s on the small side, so his facial hair situation is fast-growing but patchy and kind of downy, so he’s… like, not the most alpha of alphas. “A twenty year old alpha with money?”

    “What’s it to you?”

    “What we need, is capital. Freeing Alexei took most of my money out of the equation, and as you can see, most of this pack is made up of children. Everything they own is in trusts. They’ve already scraped together everything they could get their hands on, but the Harrington boy isn’t going cheap.” He carefully slides his omega into the chair he’d been occupying, pacing the room and gesturing as he continues. “Now, Alexei saw Steve, so we know we’re on the right track, these are the people who took him. And, luckily, when they don’t want to be overheard by most of their captives, a couple of the guards speak Russian. So we know that there’s a second location where they move the more desirable omegas to– the youngest, the prettiest, and in Steve’s case, the rarest. If Alexei hadn’t been injured…”

    He needs to stop there a moment, clenching one trembling hand. He turns back, bends over to scent Alexei, who reaches up to stroke his face, his shoulder. It’s startlingly intimate, but Eddie can’t really look away. Seeing two men together is something he’s hungry for– hell, he’s been starving. Not seeing two men together in a dirty way, although obviously he’d love to get his hands on the kind of magazine or maybe video where he’d see that kind of action, but… together. Soft with each other. Like it’s obvious this isn’t just a stranger Murray bought, though Eddie’s sure that’ll be a weird as hell wrinkle in the story they tell the grandkids someday. 

    “Sorry.” He coughs, turning back to the room at large. “As I was saying, there’s a second location, we know they moved Steve there, along with other younger omegas. We don’t know where it is, we don’t yet know when they plan to hold their auctions–”

    “But your plan is to give those fuckers money?” Eddie clarifies.

    “It’s the safest way to get him out before we call the authorities, just in case some hick cop comes in guns a-blazing.” Murray says, and Eddie respects his position on cops and the general trustworthiness thereof, but it’s still a bad plan.

    “Okay, so the cops come in and bust things up after Steve is out. But anyone else who was auctioned off got bought for real.” He points out. “A bunch of omegas are having a real bad time.”

    “And what do you suggest?” He rolls his eyes. 

    “I mean, first, I think you should actually know where you’re going. Then you could figure out exits, entrances, what the guard presence is like, and where to keep your getaway cars idling. Send one buyer in and have them cause a distraction.”

    “And potentially get everyone killed.”

    “I mean you’re asking me to spitball based on nothing here, man.”

    “All we know about the place is that it’s codenamed the convent.”

    A ball of ice plummets straight down to the pit of Eddie’s stomach. 

    “So… like, maybe they’re holding them in the old catholic school on Orange Road?” He asks slowly, feels every eye in the room on him just intensify. “You go out on Old Highway, um, past… past the dairy farm, it’s, uhhh, it’s after Walnut, I think? Then you turn on Orange and the only thing out there used to be this catholic school? And it closed ages ago ‘cause who wants to spend the money to send their kids to a boarding school that doesn’t teach science or history when you can hit ‘em at home for free? Nobody?”

    “I’m neither from here, nor catholic.” Murray says. “And the infants don’t drive.”

    “Again, I’m ten, you bald bastard.” Sinclair the younger says.

    “I can drive.” Mayfield adds, which. Yeah. Okay. Fucking… something wrong with this picture.

    “But.” He ignores her– or, tries to. The comical twitch and the look on his face say different. “That sounds like a potential lead.”

    “Not potential.” Eddie squares his shoulders. They really have to get this right, then, because his omega is one of the people who’s having a real bad time and could get it even worse if they fuck this rescue up. “I’ve been out there– just driving, you know? And they put up this huge metal wall across the back of the place? And– and there was this… um, I found a note someone threw over. Don’t have it on me, obviously. Didn’t– didn’t know what to do with it. It said, uh, ‘help, kidnapped’?”

    The room explodes with questions, none of which Eddie can make out, and they just keep coming until Murray shushes the room. Not with a growl or some big macho alpha display, just by agitatedly shushing at them all and waving his arms around until it all kind of peters out. 

    “Shush!” He adds, even though they’ve already shushed. “You found a note?”

    “Pretty recently, yeah. Been freaking out about it. Didn’t trust the cops– hell, didn’t think they’d even believe me– didn’t have anyone else to take it to. Figured I’d need like… serious help to do anything about it, which… I didn’t have.”

    “You didn’t think the cops would believe you and your backup plan was to break in yourself?” Nancy asks.

    “I mean not alone. I’m not, like… I mean I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid. Not that brave, either.” He ducks his head, face burning. It would have been intensely stupid, to have gone in at the time, but there’s still shame in not having done anything, except to run. 

    “But– So, we know where Steve is.” Robin’s voice wavers. “We know where he is!”

    “Whose van is out front?”

    “That would be me.” Murray raises his hand.

    “Who do you trust behind the wheel?”

    “Uh, I beg your pardon?”

    “If you were gonna, say, have a massive coronary in the middle of trying to buy an omega, who would you trust to drive your van? Figure two vans, we can stuff a lot of people into those. Maybe everyone they got.”

    “Throw in the station wagon, we could definitely get everyone.” Nancy nods, and Murray turns to confer with Alexei.

    In Russian, so yeah, there’s that, too.

    “Who here feels confident handling a gun?” She asks next. “And is over the age of sixteen, so not Max?”

    She doesn’t even have to look to know Red’s raising her hand, either. 

    “Uh, what kind of gun are we talking, and does it have to be loaded?” Eddie asks. He could borrow Wayne’s, but he could not load it knowing he might need to aim it at a person. He’d have to rely on it looking intimidating enough.

    “You know I’m a lousy shot.” Jonathan shakes his head. “I’d probably wind up shooting Steve for real.”

    “It should be loaded, yeah. Handgun– I have a spare.”

    “That is not me, then.”

    “Alexei has had firearm safety training. He’ll be behind the wheel in the van once I go in. If we go with this plan.” Murray says. 

    “Is he any good?”

    “He says his aim was better than most of the civilian scientists on base.”

    “Then he can take the Makarov, I’ll keep the Smith and Wesson.” She nods. “And Eddie can take the radio.”

    “The guard who chased me off wasn’t packing heat.” Eddie adds. “I mean, I wasn’t skulking around the back that time, I was– You know what, not important. It was before I found the note. Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna have to leave the van to break in around the side somewhere. Unless someone else can pick a lock.”

    “I could pick a lock.” Mayfield says.

    “That’s a big no. Look… I don’t have money, but I know a guy. He might be able to pad out your cash stash with counterfeit. You keep the good stuff on top, in case they wanna test it, that’s what you flash ‘em when you open the briefcase, the counterfeit shit– if we can get it– is just underneath to make the thing look, like, full. Yeah?”

    “A lot of ifs going on, but I am listening.”

    “You go in… shit, if we can’t find out when the auction is, I dunno… You call the guy, the, whoever you got in touch with before. You say you’re ready to pay top dollar if he knows someone who’s selling, you know, young and pretty, whatever. You get him to set you up with a meeting to peruse the goods. I mean, does he have any reason to think you’re not good for it?”

    Murray muses the question– and the plan– over. 

    “No, I threw money at him last time– once I found Alexei, I didn’t try to haggle. I think he can assume I have money to burn and particular tastes. Maybe we can push things forward… make them work to our schedule. But we really need to know what the exit plan is like.”

    “... I think I can help with that.” Robin says, sudden, like, struck with something. “Strike team, assemble tomorrow night, meet me here. I– I can get you an exit plan.”

Chapter Text

    Steve would appreciate this, if he were here. 

    Well, Robin guesses he will appreciate it, once he is. 

    She spreads the blueprints out on the bed in the guest room and uncaps a big red marker, appreciates the air of respect that she gets from Nancy and Murray, and the way Eddie looks at her like she’s a freaking genius. 

    “I’m guessing that the wall you were talking about is here.” She draws a line, cutting off the courtyard, and Eddie nods. “In which case, I think your best bet is to go around to the side door here, where the kitchen is. From there, you can get to the dorms if you go down this hall, right?”

    “Got it.”

    “Remember, if you get caught in there, you’re fucked. So don’t get caught. You’ll need to have your scent totally neutralized when you go in. They probably employ a beta staff, but we can’t afford dumb mistakes. If anyone follows you out to the cars, you’ll have backup, but when you’re inside, you’re on your own.”

    “I’ll be okay.” He nods. “Total stealth.”

    “Get out whoever you find, quiet. Load up the vans. Remember, when Murray asks for them to bring out any male omegas they have, they’ll probably take Steve to him and he’ll hand over the money and take him out the front. As soon as you have the other omegas in the cars, you drive, and you radio headquarters immediately, I’ll call the cops. I have both addresses.”

    “Got it– Wait, they’ll bring him Steve?”

    “Yes, dingus, what did you think?”

    Eddie blinks, staring at her for a long moment. “I don’t– I don’t know. What I… what I thought. What if they take Murray two male omegas?”

    “Are the odds of that very high?” Nancy points out. 

    “Well, I just– I think maybe…” Eddie fidgets with his rings. 

    “Okay, more importantly, can you get together this seriously shady counterfeit money.”

    “Uhh… little bit of a snag but I’ll get it sorted out.”

    “Eddie.”

    “I’ll get it sorted out! Not a problem. I’ll get you the money. The probably fake money.”

    “Probably?”

    “I’ll figure it out!”

    “Figure it out!” She smacks at his arm. “Get it together by this weekend, I’m not kidding. I will hurt you.”

    “I believe you!”

    "Where did you get the blueprints?” Murray asks, freeing Eddie from being Robin’s sole focus. 

    “City Hall. Same way we got the blueprints for the mall– that’s how Steve and Dustin and Erica and I got in.”

    He barks out a laugh, and turns to translate to Alexei– faster than the recording Robin had been translating by ear, but she still picks out a couple words, she thinks. Planni, maybe, in which case she can figure it out. Dyeti? Starcourt, which is kind of a gimme. Anyway, it’s an amused retelling which leaves Alexei with a sour expression, and whatever he says back is too fast to follow, but it gets another laugh out of Murray, before he goes all soppy over the pouting and she does not even try to recognize any words out of what he whispers to him then.

-/-

    The remainder of the week is… tense. Murray fusses over Alexei to an unnecessary degree, and Alexei allows it. Likes it, if he’s honest. Murray trusts him, to drive the van and to be honest about his capabilities with a firearm. But he worries about him, also. Wants him to get as much rest as he can in the lead-up, along with some gentle exercise to make sure his strength is returning. Certainly he’s feeding him up. That’s one of the parts Alexei likes best. Murray makes pasta one night, roast chicken and mashed potatoes the next, soup with dumplings after that… offers a mix of flavors and ingredients which are familiar and brand new to him, which Alexei appreciates. It’s great, being able to try things he’s never had, but there’s a comfort in the dishes that are not wholly unfamiliar. 

    He also takes Alexei to buy shoes, and Alexei goes for a plain-looking pair of sneakers. He no longer has a job for which to dress professionally, he may as well have comfort when he goes out. 

    But… now the weekend is nearly upon them, and the tension is at an all time high. Tomorrow night, Murray will take Joyce’s car and Alexei will take the van, and they’ll caravan first to the Harrington house, and then out to where the boy is being held…

    Alexei thinks there’s one other thing that Murray understands, and that’s why he hasn’t protested Alexei’s involvement– that it’s personal for him in a way it isn’t for anyone else. Oh, Steve is personal to them, of course, and getting him back. But the rest of it isn’t. Not the way it is for Alexei. He needs to see this done for himself, too. He needs to rescue who he can, after he himself was rescued. 

    Tonight, though, he needs something else.

    “Murray… make love to me?” He asks– pouts a little, because he’s learned Murray will indulge him endlessly if he does.

    Murray is currently in the process of dressing them both for bed– not because Alexei needs the help, but because it’s nice to be fussed over, and Murray seems to enjoy doing it, likes buttoning his own pajama shirt onto Alexei, takes a little pride over draping him in his scent. Alexei wears the top, Murray wears the bottoms, and they have enough blankets to keep each other warm with just that, but tonight, he thinks perhaps they could keep each other warm without.

    “I– You’re sure? You’re not–”

    “Not made of glass.” He tugs up at the hem of Murray’s undershirt, smiling as his alpha goes suddenly shy, as if they have not been changing and showering around each other since Murray brought him home. As if this renders it so different. “I want you. I want to feel… I want to give you something, to remember what you are staying safe for tomorrow. And I want you.”

    “Have you been with an alpha before?”

    He shakes his head. “You don’t mind being my first?”

    “No. No, definitely not.” He swallows, and finally allows Alexei to strip him to the waist, to run his hands over bared chest and stomach. Over his sides. “I, uh… I know I’m not exactly– I know I’m older…”

    “Lucky me.” Alexei purrs, nuzzling along his jaw and reveling in the roughness of his beard. “That is how it should be, don’t you think? An omega should get to have their first time at the hands of an experienced lover… one who can make it good, yes?”

    He winds a curl around one finger, feels as much as hears the slightly nervous chuckle, the note of pleasant surprise filling his scent as he runs his hands over Alexei’s body in return, skimming up his thighs, past his hips, pushing the pajama top up to stroke his way up to his ribcage, his hands warm and sure. 

    “I’ll try to make it very good for you, Lyoshen’ka… slow, gentle? Taking good care of you?” He nuzzles back, leaves Alexei’s throat tingling. 

    “Mm… I am lucky.” Alexei sighs, tugging him that last half step towards their bed. “More experienced, considerate, and handsome, too.”

    “You don’t have to flatter me, darling, I’m already here.”

    “I mean it.” He laughs, as Murray gently lowers him to the bed, as he begins undoing buttons. “Maybe… better word is ‘sexy’. Murray, you are blushing.”

    “It’s been a long time since a handsome young man called me ‘sexy’, that’s all. You mean it?”

    “Oh, yes.” He nods, arches up into the touch as one hand runs up his front, spreads over where the scar is before snaking up to feel his heart beating. 

    “Not a bald pig?” He teases.

    “A man who is going bald can still be sexy. As long as he has enough hair everywhere else, the top of the head is not so important.” He scratches gently under Murray’s chin. “This fits the bill, I think. And your body– I like your body.”

    “It used to be… more, uh…” He pinches at his own side critically, until Alexei chases that hand off with his own, grabs at both sides and squeezes. “Oh – you like that?”

    “Yes. I want my hands full of you. I want you… nice to hold. Press close to. Feel. What good is a skinny man to me? Can I trust him to feed me a good meal, and keep me warm at night, and be my pillow? And be strong for me? Healthy for me? Besides… he would not be as nice to look at, in my opinion.”

    “You’re doing wonders for my ego.” He hooks two fingers under the waistband of Alexei’s briefs. “Mm… you smell fantastic.”

    “Oh?” He bites his lip, grinning, lifts his hips so Murray can get the briefs out of the way entirely. 

    “When I first found you, you were… tea with lemon– lemon and sugar. But… sick, stressed. Now it’s… less lemon, it’s oranges. You smell like strong tea, and oranges, and… honey. Spices. Cinnamon, mostly. That’s… that’s definitely you turned on.”

    “Tea and oranges…” He chuckles. “Goes with yours. Coffee and cherries. This bed is going to smell like having fruit pastries for breakfast.”

    “I have the day off tomorrow. I could stay in bed and have you for breakfast.”

    He kisses his way down from Alexei’s throat, to his chest, to his belly– lower still. The tickle and burn and tingling, zinging pleasure that the beard leaves behind every tender spot it rubs against, the heat of his hands as they rub gently at Alexei’s thighs before parting them… 

    Alexei had imagined it would be good, but he hadn’t imagined this, Murray’s lips and tongue slowly taking him apart, the occasional nudge of his nose right up against the base of his cock– small, but he’s always felt more than respectable for an omega, and Murray doesn’t let him wonder for a single moment what he thinks of it, stroking him off slow and easy while he eats him out, only pulls his mouth from that task so he can get his mouth around Alexei there. Leaves him trembling on the verge just long enough to pull on a condom– when had he taken his pants off?-- and then he’s sliding home, rocking into him in gentle increments. 

    Alexei can feel the swelling of his knot against and then inside him, his own body responding, clamping down to keep him once it’s big enough. Murray kisses his throat, laps at his scent gland. Moans soft against him every time Alexei’s roaming hands find purchase, but especially when he grabs his ass with both hands and urges him to grind into him. It’s slow and deep and filthy and beautiful.

    “See?” Alexei pants. “I told you… I needed an experienced older alpha to take good care of me.”

    “It’s good?”

    “So good.” He nods. 

    “Okay, good, ‘cause I’m gonna come.”

    Alexei tilts his head to the side, in clear invitation.

-/-

    “Okay, so here’s the thing.” Eddie says, hopping out of his van to meet the others outside Steve’s place Saturday night. “I actually need this money back.”

    “This money is probably going to be evidence.”

    “Okay, well I borrowed this from a guy who’s in jail right now and I can’t tell the difference between real and counterfeit, so it needs to be back in the fish sticks box in his freezer before he gets out.” He says. 

    If he hadn’t been desperate, he would have thought a lot better, but Rick just got hauled off this week, before Eddie could ask him for help, and he heavily suspects that the cash he’s holding is real, because otherwise it wouldn’t have been in ziplock baggies in a block of ice in a costco-sized fish sticks box.

    Right?

    Anyway, he had been going to just make fish sticks, because he figured anything in the fridge and freezer was fair game if Rick was going to be doing time, and he needed to do something to deal with the whole situation of not being able to ask him for help and if he had that stack of counterfeit bills lying around still. If he was planning on taking money, he’d have tried safecracking, not that he knows how to crack a safe. He knows Rick, though, so he feels like his combination probably has a sixty-nine in it. No, he was going to eat and regroup, when he found the cash, and made the dumbest decision of his life. 

    Which, to be fair, is exactly what his dad would have done. Dump the block of ice in Rick’s tub and plug in the hair dryer and go fucking nuts. Stuff the money in a duffel bag and run like his ass was on fire. 

    Eddie always thought he was better than that– even when he did start dealing for Rick, he thought he was better than that. 

    Only, if there are two male omegas trapped in the old school, and Murray can only afford one of them, this time he’s picking Steve, there’s no other way this goes. And he hadn’t even thought he had that much. Can’t exactly take out a loan for pulling a sting operation to bring down a human trafficking ring, you know? And Eddie’s still wrapping his head around Steve Harrington being an omega, which seems impossible. 

    He hadn’t been thinking straight. He couldn’t honestly say he was thinking at all. But if he could be said to have had a plan, it very much included putting all of the money back before Rick could miss it. 

    “We can’t– no.” Nancy starts pacing. “We can’t use that.

    “Okay. Okay. Change of plans.” Murray does the same. “We’ll just… change the plan. I’ll prep the briefcase, you’ll put that money back before we all get dragged into even more crime…”

    He switches into Russian about there, or maybe Eddie just fully loses it. He’s guessing Russian, though, because whatever it is, Alexei frowns and shakes his head about. Alexei is sporting a fresh bandage over his scent gland, so… good for him, he guesses. Every so often, Murray’s hand strays to his own neck, like he’s seeking something out that isn’t there.

    “Wheeler– how do you feel about handling a shotgun?” Murray asks her, after his sidebar with Alexei.

    “Good.” She says.

    “All right. All right.” He goes to his van and gets out– yep!-- a shotgun, hands that and a box of ammunition to Nancy fucking Wheeler, who takes it like it’s nothing. “Give me the revolver.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “No. I’m really not. But I’d like to have something for when they figure out I’ve got nothing. Look, I can buy you some time, but– I think we all know no one in there is calling me an ambulance. So, you know, after I recover from a seizure, or whatever, I’m still going to have to make it out the front door with Steve, and if they figure out I handed them a briefcase of mostly singles, I’m going to need a little insurance.”

    “I mean, we– we have time to get the money back, though, right? If we do give them money and then they get arrested?”

    “No, then the money is linked to multiple crimes and the police keep it. Look… I’ll play it by ear. If I can’t get out safe with Steve without the money, I can say I didn’t bring enough, I’ll phone Robin, she’ll radio you, you will bring me the money that we need to return to your… Rick, and then we figure out how to do just that. But… this way, we just have more options.”

    “Fuck.” Eddie kicks at the ground. 

    “Mm. Succinct.” Murray snorts. “All right, racers, start your engines– we’re going to go Eddie, Alexei, me, Nancy. Since I’m assuming you know the roads around here?”

    “Pretty well. And I have a map in the car.” She nods. 

    “Good. Well… see you all on the other side.”

    Eddie tosses off a salute and hops into his van again. He’s got the radio Robin had presented him with. He’s got the money he has to return to Rick’s before Rick is out of the joint. He has the tranq, also taken from Rick’s, which is his last ditch plan since there’s no way he’s carrying a gun and shooting someone.

    Time to fucking roll.

-/-

    Steve has had enough time here now to time out the check-ins, and they’re not random. He takes a nap when they send him to bed, and wakes up after the last check of the night. They’ll come back in the wee small hours of the morning, but he’ll be back in bed by then.

    He doesn’t dare turn on any lights, when he gets to the kitchen. Has to rely on what comes in from the dimly-lit hallway and the narrow windows, the moon outside. Opens the pantry door painfully slowly, barely breathing until it doesn’t creak. 

    Inside the pantry it’s pitch black, but he moves slow, feels around until he finds what he thinks is a can of crushed tomatoes. 

    It’s something he can do reps with. Can hold it out straight ahead of himself during squats, or do some only slightly awkward curls with it. 

    He’s hit something of a wall in that he doesn’t know a damn thing about planning. He doesn’t have Dustin or Robin, they’d be the brains of the operation if he did. He only knows he needs to escape, not how. All he can do is keep preparing and wait for an opening, he guesses. 

    His opening turns out to be literal, in the form of the kitchen door swinging open during his workout. 

    He very nearly leaps into action then and there, the pieces all falling into place– step one, brain the guard with a can of crushed tomatoes, step two, run out the door and in the direction of cows. Step three… ask a dairy farmer to call the cops?

    “Jesus christ holy fuck!” Gasps a long-haired shadowy figure not wearing the same nondescript uniform as all the guards, but a leather jacket and shoes that practically glow white against the black of the rest of his outfit. 

    “What the fuck?” Steve hisses back, nearly fumbling his can. “I could have killed you with this! What– How– Who–?

    “Harrington?”

    Oh. 

    Shit.

    “Munson?”

    “The one and only.” He whispers, giving a fancy-ass little bow like he had the one time… the one time they had been at a party. Steve had just been crowned keg stand king and Eddie had been there selling weed to Tommy, he thinks, but he’d… he’d done that dumb little bow and called Steve ‘your majesty’, and it… like, and it wasn’t him being an asshole, just being weird…

    “What are you doing here?”

    And then, Eddie Munson pulls Steve’s sock out of his pants pocket, with a little shrug. 

    “Thought you might need to get busted out of this joint.” He says, but Steve can’t concentrate. Because the sock he’d scented so thoroughly before throwing it over the wall doesn’t smell like him now, or not just, it smells like alpha. And the alpha it smells like is mouthwatering.

    It smells like pumpkin pie, and spiced peaches, and mulled cider. It smells like cloves and nutmeg and sticks of cinnamon and a holiday in a warm, loving home.

    Before Steve can formulate a plan, the light in the hallway clicks on, going from half to full, and he leaps into action again. He shoves Eddie into the pantry and then pushes the can into his hands, closing the door on him. 

    It’s not silent, but that’s fine. When a guard rushes into the room, Steve is pretending to be unable to open the ‘locked’ kitchen door, and when his arm is grabbed, he pretends to wake up, startled. He’s not a good actor, best he can hope is that this guy is stupid. Honestly, even if he’s promised a punishment tomorrow, he’ll be gone by then, he just needs the guy to buy it, that the door is totally still locked, and then if he gets in trouble, he gets in trouble. 

    “What’s going on? Where– how did I get here?” He flails a little, falls down just so the guy has to catch him. 

    “Matron’s gonna deal with you later.” The beta guard growls at him, yanking on his arm. “If you’re lucky. You’ve got an interested buyer, Omega. I heard this guy goes through ‘em. Bought an omega just a week ago and he’s already looking for fresh meat.”

    Even in the half-dark, his grin is unpleasantly wolfish, and Steve feels sick. Not now. Not now, when the door is open!

Chapter Text

    Murray is very aware of the weight of the gun in his pocket. No one frisks him when he comes in, so he still has it. He doesn’t want to have to use it, but he has it. He’s also very aware of the fact that this building used to be a catholic boarding school– they haven’t done anything to make the decor less creepy, certainly. This particular venue leans more towards austerity than ostentation, but they do still have a naked dying guy hanging on the wall of the very first room you walk into, in a move that feels awful close to idolatry. Or maybe it’s just that if in some bizarre twist of fate, he had ever been sent to a catholic school, he would have spent all his time staring at the statue of the naked man with the expression at once agonized and ecstatic. He would have learned exactly two things, and they both would have been about what he’s into, sexually. 

    Not only would he not have learned how to write a thesis statement in middle school, developed an abiding love of learning, gone on to get invested in four extracurriculars in high school, and gotten into a good college, he’d doubtless have gotten kicked out of school entirely, either for kissing boys or for fighting a priest and having ‘issues’ with ‘authority’. Gone on to smoke a bunch of dope, and– well, okay, he had smoked a bunch of dope and grown his hair out in college, but at least he’d gone to college, and studied, and done well.

    Oh god. Would he have turned into the Munson kid?

    No. Focus. He is on a mission. Steve is counting on him. Alexei is counting on him. Who knows how many people are counting on him…

    “This omega.” He clears his throat, speaking loudly, hearing the pair of footsteps approaching, one brisk and businesslike and the other reluctant, stumbling a little. “Is he a fast learner?”

    He’d better be. The last thing they need is for Steve to blurt his name out in front of the head honchos and a couple of guards, who all know him as Maurice Jacobson, because obviously he’s not giving these goons his real name. And he still had a couple of business cards from the last time he needed an alias to get some doors open. Maurice Jacobson dresses better than Murray Bauman, sometimes, or he’s in a different line of work, or– now– he’s a little creep who buys omegas on the black market. He’d picked it because the Maurice is close enough that he’ll instinctively look up whenever a receptionist starts on the M, but the Jacobson is different enough that no one’s going to take two steps to his real name from it.

    He probably won’t be using it again, after this. He can’t imagine he’ll need to.

    “He’s… very dedicated to improvement.” The woman who runs ‘the convent’ says. Cute. So he’s a shitty student of whatever backwards lessons the more expensive class of black market omega is expected to learn, but not openly defiant– maybe he is smarter than Murray would have given him credit for.

    She’s there alongside the money guy. Murray wishes he had a camera concealed somewhere, wishes he could get pictures, but he can try and find some. See if the man in charge– or at least close to the top of the operation– has ever been photographed with the mayor, say. Sure would add a little something to everyone’s perusal of their morning paper… 

    They’ve got one guard with them, and there’s another bringing Steve– the door to the big anteroom swings open and Steve gets shoved out, wearing a too-small set of pajamas and a pair of athletic socks.

    “If I’m expected to pay top dollar for this one, of course, I want to know what I’m getting is quality.” Murray says– the longer he can draw out the inspection and the haggling, the less he has to rely on faking a medical emergency. 

    “I assure you, all the omegas here are untouched.” The woman says, smooth and businesslike, and Murray suppresses the urge to gag at the implication that he would want to check that, and right in this room, in front of catholic god and everybody. 

    Do they check? Sickening thought. Or do they just say that regardless, and assume most alphas wouldn’t be able to tell the difference? Ask, and take the kids’ word for it? Maybe they assume a kid like Steve, at least, a guy who could pass for not-an-omega, probably hasn’t. He can’t help coming up with the questions, but the answers can stay between Steve and whoever he wants to unload it to.

    “And what kind of training?” He presses. What is he supposed to look for? It’s weird and uncomfortable enough as it is, to try and put himself into the position of someone who buys another person, he can’t get through the thought processes, he can’t think about what he ought to poke or prod or inspect. The best he can come up with is grabbing Steve’s chin, turning him this way and that a little like he’s looking at his face, measuring his general attractiveness rather than checking for any mostly-healed bruises, any sign of malnourishment or mistreatment. 

    Steve seems tired, but otherwise healthy. His eyes are bright and clear, no bruises that show– not on his face, and not on his wrists, when Murray grabs his arm.  Makes a show of looking over his nails critically while the director of this sick little operation prattles on about homemaking and etiquette and knowing an omega’s proper place.

    “And do you? Know your place?” Murray looks to Steve. Wills him to just keep rolling with him, however this whole thing goes. If either of the guards is packing, it’s concealed, but he hopes it’s that they don’t want them having firearms around the merchandise. Don’t you know a stray bullet could knock a half a thou off the price on one of these babies? And all that horseshit.

    “I know my place.” Steve nods, gaze steady. He looks like he’d love nothing more than to beat any of the people in the room with them to a pulp, but he’s not making any stupid moves this close to the door.

    “Good.” Murray doesn’t relax, but he is a little less worried. “I think you’ll find if you can learn to anticipate what I need out of you, your life could be downright pleasant. Now… why don’t you be a good boy and wait patiently while the grown-ups talk money?”

    Steve shoots him a bitchy look, hidden from view of the bigwigs. So his personality is coming out of this intact.

-/-

    Eddie waits until the lights have been off outside the pantry again for a while, until the footsteps have totally receded, before he sets the can in his hands down and lets himself out, creeping down the hall towards the dorms. 

    One side of the corridor is all windows onto the courtyard, so he has enough moonlight to see by at least. None of the rooms on that stretch of hall have doors, but he feels weird just strolling into a bedroom with a bunch of sleeping omegas, even with his scent neutralized. What if someone screams?

    The only room that does have a door is on the end, and when it swings open, Eddie freezes. 

    It’s a girl in a nightgown. Like a girl maybe his age? He could have gone to school with her, but it’s too dark to really tell if she’s familiar.

    She mouths something, but he can’t tell what from the other end of the hall. But she’s not screaming, so he creeps forward, and so does she.

    “Who are you?” She whispers.

    “Friend of a friend of Steve’s.”

    “You sneak in to see him? You’ve got balls.”

    “I do, thanks. But, uh… no. No, we’re… Steve’s pack is busting everyone out. Basically. Kitchen door’s unlocked, we’ve got two vans and a station wagon waiting. Nancy Wheeler– I don’t know if you know her from school or if Steve’s talked about her?-- she has like a shotgun, she’s waiting out there to make sure no one, like… tries to stop you guys from leaving with us?”

    “I don’t know Nancy.” She says, with a soft snort. “But I think I like her. I like Steve.”

    “Can you wake the girls up?”

    She nods. “Where’s Steve?”

    “Guard took him. But we’ve got someone out front, don’t worry about him. Part of the plan, everything, everything’s going to plan.” Eddie nods. “I’ll– I’ll play lookout, you just get everyone to the kitchen and I’ll make sure you all get out. Are there any other boys?”

    “I’m surprised we even got one.” She shakes her head.

    He doesn’t know why he asked. Steve smelled like his when he grabbed him and shoved him in the closet, like summertime, like grassy lawns cool and green despite the sun overhead, and leather, and vanilla ice cream with caramel drizzled on top. There’s no mythical other boy to worry about, it’s Steve.

    Eddie’s not going to think about that, though.

    He stands guard while she gets the girls rounded up. They’re all in identical nightgowns and Eddie has a sudden absurd flash he’s not even sure he can label a thought– in two straight lines they broke their bread, and brushed their teeth and went to bed. There aren’t quite twelve of them– even with Steve, it would only be eleven. None of them have shoes, or even slippers, but as they pass closer, he sees some of them have doubled over their socks for a little extra cushion against any rocks or twigs or shit outside.

-/-

    They’re talking money– and Murray hasn’t yet had to reckon with not having the money they think he have– when through the open door, he sees another guard do a double take, and he takes that as his cue, throwing himself into the performance, and onto the floor, with as much noise as he possibly can.

    “I have first aid training!” Steve blurts out, before anyone else can do anything. “Someone hand me a jacket!”

    Murray thrashes around in the throes of an imagined fit while Steve gets the jacket off the head honcho, folds it up and actually does a very good job of putting an uncooperative Murray into the recovery position, head pillowed. While he has Steve bent over him and blocking anyone else’s view, Murray gives him a wink, sees him relax. There’s no way to explain anything else to him. That if an alarm goes up somewhere, they’ll need to act fast. But at this point, they may need to act fast anyway.

    Until then, he’s just got to milk it, come back to himself slowly, keep holding the room’s attention… hope.

-/-

    The guard doesn’t shout, when he spots them, though his eyes widen. 

    No. Instead, he makes for the fire alarm.

    “Shit!” Eddie scrambles to stop him. If that alarm goes, it’s gonna get ugly. And he would love to get out of this without Nancy Wheeler straight up killing a man. 

    He jabs him with the tranq. It’s not an instant thing, but it does redirect him from his dash for the alarm, goading him into taking his swings at Eddie instead. Only the first connects with enough force and accuracy that Eddie thinks he’ll be feeling it later, but he slows down as Eddie grapples him back from the fire alarm, until finally he drops. Eddie drags him into the pantry, while the girls make a break for the vehicles.

-/-

    “Okay, help me up.” Murray grunts, once the whole song and dance is over. Pulls Steve down closer in the supposed struggle to get him back on his feet. “When I’m up, I need you behind me, towards the door. Get it?”

    “Got it.”

    “Good.”

    Once Steve is safely behind him, Murray pulls the gun. The expected chaos ensues, a lot of questions that he thinks the presence of the gun answers.

    "Steve, start the car.” He tosses him his keys, trusts Steve will catch them, as he keeps his gun trained on the most important asshole in the room. “You, grab the briefcase, you’re with me.”

    “You can’t think you’re getting away with this.” The man laughs.

    Murray thinks about Alexei, languishing underground, never able to heal properly. He takes the guy’s kneecap out.

    “Who would like to give me my briefcase?” He asks, grin tense and a little manic. 

    “FUCK! You shot me, you fucker!”

    “The next one is going to be higher, and just a little to the left. Now bring me my briefcase.”

    “I can’t, you fucking fuck, you shot my leg!”

    “And the next one won’t be your leg. It’s gonna be the third shot you should really be worried about, if you ask me, but you’re really going to hate the second one, too, so.”

    He hears Joyce’s car roar to life. Neither of the guards makes a move, but the woman who’d made a big deal about Steve’s supposed virginity returns the briefcase, wincing and squeaking when the gun is briefly trained on her, just until she falls back.

    “I’m fucking going to find you, Jacobson, I’m going to destroy you!” The asshole shouts, tears streaming down his face, blood soaking into his pants leg.

    “Sure you will.” Murray laughs, backing out the door.

-/-

    “DRIVE!” Eddie slaps the roof of Nancy’s car once he has her loaded up. Does the same for Alexei, before throwing himself into the van.

    The girl he’d run into in the hallway, sitting in the passenger’s seat, offers him the walkie when he reaches a hand out, roaring towards the highway with his own three escapees. 

    “Robin? You can send in the cavalry any time.”

    “Yeah?”

    “I see Murray’s car on the road, he’s got– he’s got Steve.” He swallows. “Do it.”

    “On it. Jonathan?”

    Jonathan’s on this call? Since when?

    “Already on it.” He reports back, which… already on what? Just when Eddie thinks he understands shit with this pack, there’s something no one told him about…

    “Thanks.” The girl says, when he hands her back the walkie with a long, groaning sigh. “You didn’t have to get us all.”

    “Totally did, but… we’re good.”

    “Laurie. And that’s Megan, and that’s Kimmy.”

    “Eddie.”

    “These friends of Steve’s that are friends of yours must be pretty good friends.”

    “Yeah. Yeah, they’re… definitely. You ladies got any outstanding warrants, or can I take you all to the police station?”

    “Think they’ll let me call my grandma? She’s in Hawkins. She lives in, um… she lives over at Forest Hills?”

    “No shit. Guess you and I are neighbors, then. Hey– if those assholes don’t let you call her, I’ll find your grandma.”

    “Her name’s Katherine Lutz– you will?”

    “Yeah. No promises on anyone else’s grandmas, but I know Miss Lutz. Shit, everyone does.” He nods. “Hey… it’s gonna be okay, yeah? I’m gonna drop you off and Nancy’s gonna go in with you and all the other girls. And I’m gonna go wake up your grandma. Drive her over personally.”

    He’s not going to be able to avoid the whole Steve thing forever, but… well, at least he’s making himself useful in the meantime. Right? That counts for something, doesn’t it?

Chapter Text

    Miss Lutz isn’t a heavy sleeper, and she knows Eddie– he carries her groceries, and he’s gotten her old junker back up and running a couple times, so she trusts him, and when he tells her Laurie’s safe and she’s at the police station now giving her statement, she throws a coat over her nightgown and comes out in her slippers, hair curlers still in and everything. 

    “I’ll be sure to send some homemade cookies over to you and your uncle.” She squeezes his arm, as he drives her. “When I bake some for my little angel. She was coming to stay with me– she’s a lot like you, you know.”

    “Folks can’t take care of her?”

    “Her mama thought she ran away, but that’s not her.” She shakes her head. “Just… It’s not she didn’t try. It’s not she isn’t a good mother.”

    “Oh, I know, Ma’am, I’m sure of it. My mama tried, too. Sometimes you just need a little help, is all.”

    “That’s exactly right.” There’s a wavery gratitude in her voice, not just for the news and the ride, but the understanding as well. “She works real hard, my daughter. She can’t be working all the time and taking care of her, and the school here was going to be a better fit, and she’d have someone there. Just for a while. Help her with things… I know there are girls who want to grow up too fast, but that’s not her. She’s a tough cookie, but she wouldn’t have run away when she was coming to stay with me.”

    “No, Ma’am. She can’t wait to see you. And like you said… she’s a tough cookie. I’m sure everything she’s been through… she’ll be okay.” He promises. “You– you should be real proud of her, you know, she… there was a bunch of other girls and she helped get ‘em all safe.”

    “That’s my girl.” She smiles, settles back into the seat, satisfied. “Told you, my daughter was a good mother. Raised her right. Just… we didn’t think it was good for her to be all alone, with her mama working those long hours. You worry about what can happen…”

    “Yeah. But… she’ll be okay now. I’ll drive you both home.”

    “You’re a good boy. Sure your uncle’s proud of you.”

    He knows Wayne is– even if he can’t always fathom what for– but it’s still good to hear it.

-/-

    At the station, Alexei stays plastered to Murray’s side, anxiety spiking every time one of the two overwhelmed officers on duty speaks to them. 

    “They’re waking the acting chief.” Murray explains, voice pitched low. “And anyone else they can get. You won’t have to talk to them. We already wrote up everything you could think to say, and they’ll get to read it soon enough. As soon as Steve’s given his statement, we’re all going.”

    “Yes. All right.”

    "Nothing to be scared of.” He kisses Alexei’s temple, and Alexei nuzzles at his chin. Can’t quite summon up a purr even then, despite his deep appreciation of Murray’s beard.

    “I am a little tired, that’s all.”

    “Of course. It won’t be too much longer.”

    “And… relieved, that you are safe. Relieved, also, that I didn’t have to shoot anyone, to keep the young ones safe, but… is it bad if a piece of me is disappointed? The idea of shooting someone is not one I have ever– I am comfortable around guns, you don’t work on military bases without learning to be comfortable around them, but I think it would be upsetting, to shoot someone. Even non-fatally. And at the same time… I did not get to recover in a hospital, with you coming to take me home. I finally got to see sunlight, Murray, and it was taken away from me all over again, only this time there was… there was nothing I had signed up for, it was because of my designation, because I might be worth more money alive than dead, because someone who knew me a little thought it wouldn’t hurt to sell me off to someone who I would not be able to communicate with. And I…”

    “And you’re angry…”

    “I don’t think I am very good at being angry.” He sniffs.

    “I don’t know, I thought you were– I’ve seen you angry.”

    “Yes. Well, I was also tired and hungry and too hot, then. And… it was different. I was in a completely different scenario.”

    “I kind of liked you angry.” Murray noses at him just a little– short of a nuzzle, just a friendly little nudge. 

    “Did you?” He laughs– if Murray’s aim had been to surprise some of his anxiety out of him, it’s worked. 

    “You were unexpected. I found it… interesting.”

    “Hm… not quite ‘you’re beautiful when you’re angry’, but I’ll take it.”

    “That, too, but you’re beautiful when you’re not angry, too. I wanted so badly to hold onto being enemies, and you made it very difficult.”

    “By being beautiful?”

    “By being interesting. By continuing to be unexpected, at every turn. I… There are many things I can predict. When you surprise me, when you keep surprising me…”

    “I hope I can continue to surprise you, then.”

    “I shot someone.”

    “Now you surprise me. And you’re all right?”

    Murray nods. “Not fatal. Painful, and inconvenient. And… to show I would follow through on a threat. I almost couldn’t. I’m not… That isn’t– For example, I could never have really shot you.”

    “Sweet talker.”

    “Hush. Anyway, I think… that’s okay. It shouldn’t be easy. But I did it. For you, and to get Steve out safely. And to provide some distraction for all the other omegas.”

    “The ones I drove were unharmed. Frightened, confused…” He presses closer again. “The whole drive I was only thinking, I needed to see you. I needed to be in your arms again. I needed to know you made it back safe, too.”

    “I’m safe, Lyoshen’ka. We both are.”

-/-

    When Steve sees Eddie again, he’s escorting a little old lady up to the front desk, where there’s no officer on duty because everyone’s kind of running around dealing with shit. 

    Eddie Munson. Who might just be Steve’s, like… soulmate. Scent mate. Whatever.

    Steve really doesn’t know what to do with that. They don’t seem like they… belong, do they? Eddie’s so… Eddie. Steve doesn’t feel like he’s so anything, but he’s not whatever Eddie is.

    He never really thought he’d have a true mate. He wanted one, sure, what hopeless romantic doesn’t? But actually getting it? Stuff of fairy tales. Plenty of people didn’t have one, plenty more would never find theirs, and…

    And he never really considered, that it could be a guy. Figured if he got that very unlikely shot at the perfect match, she’d be a female alpha, they’d maybe find each other because they were both rarer. He’d never really been attracted to your average alpha. Spent enough time around them, and never got the appeal.

    Eddie’s not really like those guys, though, is he? Steve is more like those guys than Eddie is, Eddie’s…

    He’s got long hair, Steve likes that. Enormous eyes. Full lips. He smells delicious. He’s… apparently really sweet to old ladies. And at some point in the months Steve’s been a prisoner, Eddie has gotten to know his pack, at least well enough that they wanted his help on the rescue mission, which is a story he’s going to need to get at some point. 

    Steve gives a little wave, when he catches Eddie’s eye, and Eddie nods, holds up a hand. He helps the woman he’s with flag someone down, before bounding over to where Steve is sitting.

    “Hey.” 

    “Hey.” He tugs a lock of his hair across his face, shy. Cute. Not like an alpha. But… still very much an alpha. One who cares about taking care of people, apparently. Steve wouldn’t have guessed that, from their time in school. There’s probably a lot of stuff he just doesn’t know about him. He guesses that’s gonna change now.

    “So… you got my sock.” He says. It’s not what he guesses they need to say, but… well, if he got the sock, he got Steve’s scent. He knows.

    “I got your sock.” Eddie nods.

    “Thanks, for helping bust us all out.”

    “I mean– yeah. Shit. You don’t gotta thank me for that. I didn’t…” He swallows. Steve watches the bobbing of his throat. “I didn’t– I don’t think I did half of what Henderson thought I’d be doing.”

    “Dustin? You know him?”

    “Yeah, we play Dungeons and Dragons? He’s a good kid. I mean, they all are.”

    “You… play Dungeons and Dragons with Dustin and the other kids?”

    “Uhh… not all of them, apparently, ‘cause there’s like a middle school pup and another girl I’ve never seen before in my life, and Mayfield, but the boys, yeah.”

    “Huh. I feel like I missed a lot. I… Like, it’s– I mean I maybe would have missed a lot even if I hadn’t been…” Steve waves a hand, the other resting on his hip. “I’m– What I’m saying is, I feel like I have missed a lot. Like… I never got to know you at all when we were in school. And I wouldn’t have expected you to…”

    “I’m still there, actually.” Eddie shrinks in on himself a little with the admission. “Taking another run at senior year and shit.”

    “Oh, that’s cool. I mean– not ‘cool’, but– cool that you’re, you know… not giving up. So that’s how you know the kids. You play at school?”

    “Yeah, yeah.”

    “They doing okay with it?”

    “Yeah. I mean… high school sucks when you’re nerdy, or different, or nerdy and different, and… well, now I know what’s been eating away at ‘em, the thing they never talked about. I just assumed it was… kids being assholes, when I wasn’t around to protect ‘em.”

    Eddie protected Dustin and the kids. Eddie protected Steve’s pack. Suddenly, Steve gets what other omegas see in alpha guys. Eddie’s been protecting the pups when Steve couldn’t.

    “Thanks. And, um… just, I hope– I hope I was never, like, a huge asshole to you, back when we were… like, kids, or whatever.”

    He hasn’t felt like a kid in so long, but he was one, once, and not always a thoughtful one. Not cruel, though he knew how to be, but… thoughtless, uncurious about the world past his immediate bubble. Shallow. He doesn’t want Eddie to remember that version of Steve Harrington– the one who just didn’t care. Who didn’t do enough to alleviate other people’s suffering. He changed a lot, but maybe Eddie doesn’t know that Steve, this Steve. New, current Steve.

    Although, now he could get to.

    “Nah. Never. I mean, I don’t think you really knew I existed.” He twists at the lock of hair he’s still holding, swinging one leg a little, sneaker scuffing at the linoleum. “We talked maybe twice.”

    “I was aware of you. A little. We just… ran in different circles, I guess. And… now maybe I’m running with a better one.”

    “Oh, they’re real good.” Eddie nods. “Hey– um, look, man, feel free to tell me if this is stupid, or– or way out of line, but– Your sock?”

    “My sock.”

    “Right. So I was thinking…” He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking I’d like to court you. If that’s okay.”

    “Do most true mates court, or do they skip straight to mating?” Steve chuckles, and Eddie’s eyes go impossibly wide. Which is really cute, actually, but it’s not in an ‘excited and about to pounce’ way so much as a ‘panicking’ way. “Hey, relax– no pressure, I’m just– Yeah. You can court me.”

    “Is there… Like, I don’t know if you’re old fashioned– You seem not– but is there anyone I should ask for permission from? If that’s important to you?”

    “Nah. My folks do not need to be that involved in my life, clearly.” He rolls his eyes. Some of the other omegas’ families have been contacted. Steve’s parents don’t even know he was missing, and if they haven’t been reached by now, he doesn’t see any point in their finding out. “You’re good. I mean you could ask Murray, he’s kind of… emergency acting pack alpha? But that’s mostly for El. And I don’t think he really cares. And he couldn’t stop me if he did.”

    “Oh. Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

    “You okay?”

    “Yeah, just… got stuck there for a sec.” He blushes, too. If more alphas were this cute, Steve would have discovered their charms a long time ago. “Well, I guess I’ll… see you, sometime. To court you.”

    “You’re not coming back with the pack?”

    “I– well, I’m not– not really part… I mean is that cool?”

    “I’d like it if you did. I’d promise you breakfast, but I don’t know if I actually… have anything edible in the house.”

    “You’ve at least got plenty of coffee.” Murray comes up, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. The male omega from the first place Steve was taken is tucked into his side, so apparently he’s been freed, too. Another story Steve will have to get later. “I’m sure the kids stocked up on some kind of food in preparation for your return. It might be all potato chips and Twinkies.”

    “Breakfast of champions.” Eddie says. “I’m there.”

    “Who are you riding with? We’re all clear to go. Nancy already headed out, by the way. Alexei’s taking my van, so you can still call shotgun in the Pinto.”

    Steve looks over to Eddie, who is still blushing. 

    “I guess…”

    “I– I’ve gotta give Miss Lutz and her granddaughter a ride back to Forest Hills, you should go with your pack, but… but I’ll be by soon as I can.”

    “Sure. See you then.”

    Murray walks the other omega– Alexei, apparently– to the van. When he’d gone to meet him before, they’d been on the other side from Steve, this time he’s bearing full witness to the kiss, the nuzzling and whispering before they part.

    “So. Alexei.” Steve says, taking the passenger’s side this time and returning Joyce’s car keys to Murray. “What’s the deal there?”

    “Well… you remember Starcourt?”

    “No. Totally blanked on the mall where I worked and fought a Russian guard and a giant zombie flesh spider and hit an asshole from school with a stranger’s car and got tortured and shit. He’s… he’s one of the Russians? Those Russians?”

    “Defector. He’s the one who told Joyce and Jim and I about what was going on under there, and… and we thought we lost him on the way there. A, uh… a guard, an enforcer, some… some kind of– There were a couple of them, guys in black uniforms. They got Alexei. Well, one of them was involved in trafficking on the side. He came through for us again, when I thought we hit a dead end in the search for you. Told us about them taking you someplace else. And then that Munson kid that Henderson brought in… well, he led us right to you.”

    “Okay. And the mating bite he’s sporting? He didn’t have that when we saw each other in that shithole. I’d have noticed, on the only other guy there.”

    At least, he thinks he would have. It would have jumped out, on a trafficking victim. And Alexei’s the one who had pretty much all Steve’s attention. 

    “If I hadn’t had to go in undercover tonight, I’d be sporting one, too.” Murray shrugs. “We’re… compatible. Besides, I already had to dance with the devil once… I don’t want Alexei being forced to cut a deal with the government over citizenship, they… If they knew what he knows, what he could do, they would put him over a barrel to force him to do it again, and… mated omegas get to share their alphas’ citizenship.”

    “Makes sense.”

    “You seem to have made quite the impression on the Munson boy. You two know each other?”

    “Not really. We had a couple classes, been to some of the same parties, but…” Steve shrugs, looking out the window. “I almost brained him with a can of tomatoes ‘cause I thought the guard was coming. Then I shoved him into the pantry when a real guard did come.”

    “Guess he likes that in a man.” Murray snorts.

    “Guess he does.”

-/-

    Steve.

    Robin hits him so hard with her welcome home hug she almost knocks them both back out through the door, and he’s laughing, and she’s crying.

    Everyone else wants to hug him, too, and she has to let them, and then Steve sees the welcome home banner and he’s crying, just a little bit, and she’s laughing…

    Somehow, they get bundled into a chair together, Steve with a mug of cocoa and a PB+J. The pups have a big nest on the floor in the den, where they’d been napping on and off through the night, Steve’s homecoming treated as a big sleepover. Like, a weird, tense sleepover, but a sleepover nonetheless. 

    The kids are on the floor, and Steve and Robin are sharing the big chair, and Joyce is on one couch with Jonathan and Nancy, and Murray and Alexei are on the other, and Robin thinks she gets it, why Steve had refused to go to bed. Everyone is here for him, and he’s been gone from them so long. He needs time to just soak it all up. 

    Murray and Alexei have called dibs on the downstairs guest room, the one with the wall, and Steve has insisted on Joyce taking his parents’ room. She quibbles a bit, but it’s not like the kids need a chaperone, they can keep each other in check. Nancy suggests Jonathan could always watch them if it would make Joyce feel better, and that she and Robin will probably wind up taking the other guest room, and there’s no way Nancy doesn’t know Robin’s not budging from Steve’s side.

    … Which means she probably wants to sneak Jonathan up to share with her. 

    Robin’s a little surprised when Eddie shows up– she wouldn’t have been surprised, she doesn’t think, if he’d shown up with everyone else, but his showing up late throws her. She’s more than a little surprised by how eager Steve is to see him– the three of them move into the kitchen, where Steve offers Eddie coffee and his choice between PB+J, cold cereal, or toaster waffles.

    In the end, Eddie eats all three and passes out on a recently-vacated couch, freeing Jonathan up from any moral duty he might have felt to chaperone the kids and letting him sneak up to sleep with Nancy. 

    “Wanna tell me what the deal is with you and Eddie?” Robin asks, once she and Steve are nested up together in his room. 

    “Almost crushed his skull with a can of crushed tomatoes. Now he wants to court me.” Steve yawns, arm flopping over to rest across her waist. “He smells like pumpkin pie… ‘n apple cider. So I’m gonna let him. We’re like… made for each other. Hey, Rob? You and me… we’re made for each other, too. In our own way. I missed you.”

    “Missed you, too, dingus.”

    “Yeah, I thought you might. ‘Cause you almost broke all my ribs with that hug when I came through the door. But it’s okay, I won’t tell anybody.”

    “Okay.” She’s laughing or crying or maybe both now. Steve presses his forehead to hers, and whatever she’s doing, they do it together, until sleep takes them.

Chapter Text

    The first part of the expose runs in the morning– when he does wake up again, Murray brings the morning paper in with some pride. It’s not a feeling he ever thought he would associate with writing for the Hawkins Post, beyond what little pride might come with being able to contribute to the care and keeping of his late friend’s child. It hadn’t seemed like a place for hard-hitting journalism. But, it had been a place where the senior staff got more or less eaten over the summer, which meant there was no one to stop him from writing the story, and no one to stop Jonathan from printing it.

    Alexei’s translated account takes up most of it, but Murray will get at least something from Steve, he imagines, and with any luck, he’ll get something about the arrests. Look into how high up the food chain it all goes…

    He’d love to take the whole day off– Alexei is already pouting about the fact that he’s out of bed at all, blearily trailing after him to the kitchen.

    “You’ve read everything in that paper already. You wrote most of it.” He grumbles, draping himself over Murray’s back as he gets started on coffee and scrambled eggs, the pair of them shuffling to the freezer for a bag of frozen hash browns, and then after an unsatisfactory perusal of the fridge, a package of turkey and half a yellow onion that he dices up, for a very makeshift hash. “We have barely slept.”

    “The truth never sleeps, my dear Alexei.”

    “Well, I do.” He huffs.

    “I have to get back over to the station and see about a statement. I’d like to get people fed, first.”

    He hadn’t ever expected this for himself, either, wanting to cook breakfast for people. For Joyce and her kids, and Nancy, and Steve… not just for himself, not just for Alexei, but for a pack. The other children, he doesn’t know as well, doesn’t feel responsible for in the same way. He isn’t everyone’s alpha, after all. The only kid he’s taken on real pack alpha duties towards is El, but of course Will and Jonathan benefit from his being there and being able to cook, from the way money goes a little further with another working adult in the house… But still, he’s far more a part of a pack than he’d first thought of himself as being, far far more than he used to picture.

    Alexei grumbles wordlessly, but that changes once the smells of actual coffee and a hot breakfast fill the kitchen. 

    “You can get some more rest after breakfast if you need to.” He promises. “Whole pack’s mostly going to stay together here today, I think. Look after Steve. I’m going to leave a note for him when I go.”

    “Okay.” He nuzzles at Murray’s neck. “Tonight… will I have you to myself at all?”

    “Oh, that can be arranged.” He feels a little heat rise to his cheeks, hears the little chirruping purr Alexei makes at that. “And, uh, what did you want me for?”

    “What do you think?” He licks over the gland there. “You said once you do not have to be undercover, you wanted my mark as well. I would like to do it properly.”

    Murray swallows. Hard. 

    “As soon as I can get back to you.”

    “Good.”

    He sounds smug as all hell, and dammit, Murray likes that on him.

-/-

    After his part in the rescue– and the fact that he knows most of the kids anyway– Steve’s pack seems to accept Eddie as one of them. Sure, he and Alexei can only communicate via a handful of words and wild gesturing, but that’s where Alexei is with most of the pack anyway, as far as Eddie can tell. Robin Buckley speaks the best Russian after Murray, but she only started learning any of it in July, and then Mike Wheeler’s little girlfriend, El, knows a few words, and Alexei is learning English. He’s some kind of rocket scientist or something, which Eddie thinks is pretty cool. The only omega rocket scientist Eddie knows, anyway.

    He eats another breakfast with all of them, like a real hot-but-late breakfast, the aroma drawing him and the kids to the kitchen, where Alexei had motioned for them all to eat, and Eddie had learned about El knowing a little Russian– and then, when Steve and Robin had come down, he’d learned Robin spoke even more, if not so much.

    “You smell like–” Steve starts, and cuts himself off, with a soft chuckle. There’s something so charmingly boyish at the tilt of his head, the little shrug, the smile. “Sorry, nevermind.”

    “No. Smell like what?” Eddie smiles, too, though he’s not sure it’s charming. He knows how to be charming when it doesn’t matter to him to be. With Steve he feels way out of his depth. 

    “Pack.”

    Eddie blushes.

    “Eddie is pack, now.” Dustin pipes up, before Eddie can answer.

    “I’m not sure that’s– I mean, we don’t know if that’s what he wants.” Steve says, almost panicked. 

    “I would. I don’t– It’s just me and my uncle, I’m, um, packless.”

    “Well… welcome, I guess. We’re– it’s a lot like that, for most of us.”

    “Yeah. Like, I’m just with my mom.” Dustin nods. “Same as Max–”

    “Same as me.” She says. There’s a tension, mostly in Dustin, that Eddie doesn’t understand, a tightness to her smile. “It’s better that way. For mom and me, I mean. But… being part of a pack is pretty good.”

    “My parents were never really… into the pack living thing.” Steve nods, and that seems to help ease the tension in the room. “And with all the traveling my dad does for work, it’s probably for the best. But yeah. It’s good to have a pack that takes you in, when you don’t… have that.”

    “And Alexei– and me.” El says. “Before… I did not have pack. And when Murray brought Alexei home, he was alone, too. Now all of us are a family, with Joyce and Will and Jonathan, and our family is part of a pack. And Alexei helps me with math.”

    “Right.” Eddie nods. “You’re, uh, homeschooling.”

    She nods. “When Joyce and Murray go to work, and Will and Jonathan are at school, it’s just the two of us. I do school, and Alexei studies English. And we have Eggos and watch The Price is Right.”

    Her voice drops to a confidential whisper, for those last two items, and Eddie laughs softly.

    “Sounds like you’re living the life.”

    He’s not sure how this girl is Mike Wheeler’s girlfriend, but he guesses eventually he’ll hear how that happened. 

    For now… he’d love to just get to know Steve better, but he understands why Steve’s kind of the man of the hour, and he wouldn’t want to take him from his pack even if he could. So he hangs around, and gets to know all of them as a group instead of getting to know his true mate one on one. 

    He hopes it goes well, when he can. He hopes they like each other. Hopes Steve sees past all the… societal bullshit, and likes who Eddie is. Just seeing how much they all love Steve makes him think he will, too, once he gets to know him.

-/-

    Murray has to pick up groceries before he heads back to the Harrington house– had promised to get some real food over there for Steve, in his note, since the younger kids had mostly stocked the place with junk, and the poor kid doesn’t yet know if he can get his job back. Maybe, with the story being in the papers, they’ll arrange it. Once Steve’s own statement is out there, however much or little he wants to share, they might think it would look bad not to re-hire the recently-rescued omega. But, he thinks maybe as long as he’s shopping for Steve, he can pick up a little something for Alexei, something special to make up for having to leave and work so soon after so much excitement and worry. 

    Of course he’d much rather be taking his omega back to bed– and back to bed– but this is huge, and it’s for Alexei as much as it is for Steve. And when he’s not grumpy and tired, he knows Alexei will appreciate that… But still. He could pick him up a bouquet of flowers. Chocolates? Some little thing that he never got the chance to court him with…

    He mentally switches hats as he pulls in outside the station– Murray Bauman, alpha and provider goes back on the shelf. Murray Bauman, journalist who’s ready to bully the hell out of some cops is now firmly in place.

    At least, he fully intends to, whatever it takes to get whatever he needs, except when he walks into the building…

    The scent hits him first, woodsy and smoky and Alpha-with-a-capital-A, but not just any capital-A-Alpha. It’s a scent that used to be soaked in around the place– soaked into the furniture and the wallpaper in the chief’s office, faded and aired out over the months. It feels insane, to be smelling it like this.

    And then he sees the figure, hunched but still hulking, sitting in one of the chairs, wrapped in a shock blanket and holding a cup of coffee.

    Jim looks up when Murray drops his notebook, the sound of it standing out against the usual bustle of the station. 

    “How–?”

    “Murray.” He staggers up out of his chair. “Joyce isn’t at work, she isn’t at home–”

    “She’s safe. She’s– Pretty much the whole pack is taking the day off, we just got Steve back last night. She’s at his house, with the kids.”

    He shudders, once, and nods. “Safe?”

    “Safe. They’re all safe. Your little girl’s safe.”

    “I knew… I knew Joyce wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

    He sags a little, and sets his mug down on the nearest desk, and lets Murray pull him into a firm hug. Yeah… this is more important than whatever story he might get out of one of the harried small town cops buzzing around the place. Although, he will still need to get a bag of groceries. 

    “Come on, big guy. You can catch me up in the car.” He says, pausing when Jim audibly sniffs him. “Oh, sorry, do I offend?”

    “Nah. You smell like an omega. I mean, you don’t. You smell like an omega’s been all over you.” He chuckles, patting Murray’s back. “So what’d I miss? You settle down here in Hawkins? With somebody?”

    “Well, someone had to keep an eye on things. Besides, the, uh… the newspaper staff all… died. So, it was a great job market.” He shrugs. “And, yeah. I mean, my mate had to move into Joyce Byers’ basement, and I can fill you in on that whole story later, but… You hungry?”

    “Starving.” He groans. “Get me a cheeseburger and I’ll go on the record, how’s that?”

    “Oh, I have a feeling half of what happened to you is gonna be unprintable, but I’ll take that deal.”

    He swings through a drive through, leaves Jim to eat his fill– a couple cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, chicken nuggets… however much he wants is his, after… well, whatever happened. Whatever’s left… eh, they’ll figure it out. While Jim eats in the van, Murray hurries through grocery shopping, enough to feed Steve a couple of days on something other than frozen waffles, cereal, and peanut butter sandwiches. 

    And, yes, flowers. A big bouquet of streaky carnations.

    “This mate of yours gets flowers? You’re a changed man, Murray.” Jim chuckles. 

    “Well, he has to live in a basement with me, and after last night’s rescue mission, we didn’t get the blissful night of sleep he wanted before I had to get back to work breaking this trafficking story.” He shrugs. Watches carefully out of the corner of his eye, but Jim doesn’t seem at all surprised by the fact that his omega is male. “He deserves something… nice. Pretty. I mean, he’s going to be insufferable.”

    “Over the flowers?” His brow furrows.

    “Over you. He told me– he said they were keeping alphas in another part of the same building. Said they called one of them ‘the policeman’. And I said… it couldn’t possibly be you. Impossible. Said you were… practically vaporized. Even though I didn’t see it with my own eyes, pretty sloppy investigating…”

    “You told this guy I was vaporized?”

    “It’s what we thought. What did happen, Jim?”

    “Knocked off the platform before the thing could blow. Miracle I didn’t fall to my death, there was a ledge. Some kind of maintenance tunnel had an access hatch down there, can’t even imagine why. Someone hauled me in. I was… in and out of it. Stumbling some of the time, coming to on my feet, being half-dragged… I couldn’t get a look at the guy, but he was wearing a uniform– one of ours.”

    “Shit.”

    “Considering the mayor was in bed with these guys… Anyway, at some point, I’m down for the count. When I come to? Big cage underground. Handful of alphas– no one I know. One of the guys might be a Russian, but a couple of ‘em are… one’s a long-haul trucker. Another… I dunno. Me and the guys who speak English are really just trying to get each other through it, hold the line, but it gets obvious fast what the game is.”

    “Underground fighting?”

    “Yeah. They’ll hit us with things sometimes, or a little electric shock. Throw not enough food into the middle, or… or clothes that smell enough like an omega. If they can get us to just fight over the food, that’s an in, you know? But if they can’t get anyone to agree to getting into a pit fight for his freedom, then they’ll do what they can to push one of us to go feral. One of these guys, Bud, he was a POW, so… two of us tried to take care of the others, but the one guy, one who don’t talk? He’s damn close to snapping. Hell, I came close.”

    “Jim…”

    “Day they threw Steve’s clothes in? I mean, I didn’t go feral. Didn’t turn on the other guys stuck in there with me. But I raged pretty hard trying to get out. Kid’s safe?”

    “He’s safe. They’re all looking out for him.”

    “Good.”

    “Alexei.”

    “Hm?”

    “Alexei– they got him, too. I– I thought you were both dead, I thought it was my fault.” He thinks he’d cry, if he wasn’t in charge of keeping them on the road, getting them to the rest of the pack in one piece. He thought he lost them both, and he got them both back. He’s bringing El her dad back, he’s bringing Joyce her… well, whatever they’re going to be. Those things both feel good, but… he has his friend back. He failed him, but he didn’t get him killed. He has him back. 

    “Wasn’t your fault–”

    “It was, I was… Cocky, sure of myself, and… distracted. Emotionally compromised? Take your pick, but I let you down, and I thought I got you dead. And… Alexei, I promised him things, and… I left him for just a minute. But they got him. They took him back… had him in this… hospital bed in a closet underground.” He shakes his head. “He’s been stuck underground from one base to another, to that hellhole, and I still can’t get him anything better than a basement…”

    “Alexei? That’s your–? Alexei?”

    “Is that a problem?”

    “Oh, I don’t have a problem. I mean I’ve got questions about the guy’s standards…”

    Murray laughs. They both do.