see it in your eyes (just a little bite)

by Inayaluic

Summary:

It was the rule. He knew it. Everyone did.

Unmated alphas were too unpredictable, and if he wanted a chance to play in the NHL, there were certain restrictions he had to follow - like wearing a neck guard infused with an omega's scent. They claimed it was supposed to help keep him calm during the game, but damn, it really was unfair being reduced to his biology like this.

Chapter 1

Ben let out a long sigh, a headache creeping in as he flipped through the samples his coach had brought in. From the moment he’d officially signed with the Coruscant Capitals, he knew this day was coming. It was inevitable – all the alphas went through the same process if they were lucky enough to get drafted – but damn, he was not enjoying this.

 

He’d give almost anything to skip right over it and go straight to practicing. He’d even volunteer to do wind sprints instead. But he couldn’t. Not until this was finished.

 

It was the rule. He knew it. Everyone did.

 

The special neck guard he had to wear whenever he was in the building was supposed to help, or at least, that’s what the experts claimed. Beyond the standard protection it provided out on the ice, the league mandated that alphas infuse it with a compatible omega’s scent, and if an alpha didn’t happen to have an omega willing to help him, well, they had a special service that could be utilized.

 

Each week, freshly scented items – ranging from neck guards to hair ties to undershirts and everything in between – would be delivered. At no charge to the alpha, but then, that really wasn’t a surprise. The team owners were too concerned with winning to be bothered over the fees they paid to make sure their star alpha players were in prime condition.

 

It wasn’t something that was talked about often in polite society, but really, there wasn’t a way for professional sports to exist without the Omega Service – even if it was hush-hush – not since the Skywalker incident about fifty years before. People were still bringing up what happened during that particular Capitals vs Lightning game.

 

Ben knew he had to follow all of their rules if he ever wanted a chance to actually step out on the ice in the NHL. But fuck, it really was unfair being reduced to his biology like this.

 

None of the betas were subjected to this. They didn’t have to worry about being on so many different medications that it made them nauseous as the team doctors tried to delay ruts until after the season ended. And Ben hadn’t heard of a single beta being forced to wear a neck guard either.

 

No, that was reserved for just the alphas.

 

To even the playing field, they claimed, since a beta was no match for an alpha if a fight were to break out. It made things safer, the alphas more docile and less likely to fight with the omega’s calming presence.

 

Ben wasn’t so sure about that - the neck guard felt more like a brand, a bright mark shouting to everyone in the arena that he was dangerous – and it chaffed, irritating his gland every time he put it on. Whoever designed it clearly had never experienced how sensitive glands could be.

 

If he had his way, he’d rip it off, but then, he didn’t want to ruffle too many feathers by telling the coaching staff, or one of the annoying reporters, how he really felt. It was too risky. He’d come so far, dreaming about playing hockey since before he discovered that his grandfather was the one and only Anakin Skywalker.

 

Between his grandfather, and then later his uncle, hockey was almost a family legacy.

 

But god, it was ridiculous how much he’d been poked and prodded over the last few weeks. It would have been so much easier to be a beta like his uncle because all the tests they’d subjected him to in the last two days alone were almost enough to make him walk out the front door and never return.

 

And yet, Ben stayed. He’d known from a young age that his options were limited. Alphas were too unpredictable. Too aggressive and territorial if they weren’t tightly controlled by the government. No, as much as he hated all of the pre-season requirements, this was the path for him.

 

Now, he just needed to decide on the omega that would be helping him this season.

 

If only he could find the right one.

 

There were dozens of samples for him to test, and even though he’d been at it for hours now, none of their scents appealed to him. Omega 132 was far too sweet, almost cloying, as the fruity, tangerine-tinted scent hung in the air. Omega 78 was bitter, and the heavy wormwood notes caused him to recoil the moment he opened the sample. And Omega 54 made him instantly nauseous, their scent ripe and smelling like fruit that had been sitting out in the hot sun for two days.

 

“This is useless,” Ben said, anger bubbling just under the surface as he pushed away from the table. “I’m never going to find one.”

 

“There are still a few others you haven’t tried yet,” Mitaka urged as he packed away the scents. The athletic trainer had been endlessly patient with Ben despite how much he grumbled, but despite his cheerful demeanor, Ben could tell that even he was starting to get tired of how long this was taking.

 

“I’ve been at this all morning, though. None of them feel right,” Ben said, absently itching at the gland on his wrist. He really hated how out of sorts and antsy all the different scents were making him. “And this latest set was the worst of all.”

 

“Try this batch,” Mitaka said, placing a small box filled with an assortment of scrunchies and scraps of cloth all separated into their own zip-locked bag. “And if that doesn’t work, we can go to lunch. Coach knows that this isn’t always an easy process.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Ben had his doubts, but he sat back down, flipping through the baggies at random as he pulled out sample after sample. It was almost a relief when he opened Omega 23 and couldn’t smell a thing. They weren’t compatible, but at least this one didn’t make him sick.

 

The next few were about the same. Nothing was quite right. But the moment he opened Omega 97’s sample, Ben knew it was the one. Fuck. The scent was perfect. Warm and soft and wonderful.

 

It was like the first rays of sun peeking out from behind the clouds after a thunderstorm. None of the other samples mattered now, his nausea fading as he breathed it in. All he knew was her. Omega 97. Fuck…

 

Their scent was going straight to his cock, all the blood rushing south as his pants tightened, trying to ignore the sudden urge to sink his teeth into the scrunchie.

 

“This one,” he said, his voice rough as he brought the silky pink scrunchie up to his nose. He needed more. So much more.

 

“Are you sure?” Mitaka asked, surprise in his voice as he glanced over at Ben.

 

“Yes.”

 

Mitaka nodded, seeming relieved before he quickly packed up the rest of the samples, but Ben was too focused on memorizing all the little details in the omega’s scent as he inhaled again and again to give him much mind.

 

Fuck. It was enough to make him lightheaded.

 

The omega was perfect.

 

His omega was perfect.

 

“Is she local?” Ben asked, running his finger along the soft silk as he tried to imagine what his omega looked like. It was a dumb question – he knew that - but despite his reluctance when he’d entered the room, Ben was desperate to find out more about her.

 

“Local enough.”

 

“Can I… can I meet her?”

 

“You know the rules,” Mitaka sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “Snoke doesn’t want omegas hanging around during training camps.”

 

“Fine.”

 

He knew Mitaka was right. The Omega Service had strict rules. But maybe, with a bit of luck, he might stumble across Omega 97. Coruscant wasn’t that big of a city, right? She had to be here somewhere.

Chapter 2

Notes:

This chapter vaguely references sports-related violence without going into specific details. It's brief, and I don't think it requires an archive warning, but I have added an author's note at the end with more details and context.

As much as he hated to admit it, Ben noticed a change almost immediately. He didn’t enjoy the medication he was forced to take as an alpha – all of them deemed medically necessary by the NHL officials – and the vile, bitter aftertaste of the high dose blockers made him shudder every time he swallowed them, but with the omega’s fresh scent wrapped around him, pressing into the mating gland on his neck, things felt… different. Better.

 

The fog from all the suppressants didn’t feel as thick. Almost like he could think clearly for the first time since he’d been called up to play for the Capitals.

 

Damn. This would have made things so much easier last year when he’d been fighting every day against the heavy medication he’d had to take if he wanted to even touch the ice when he’d spent a year in the minors.

 

But then the amount of funding that went into development teams in the AHL was vastly different than the NHL. He was sure that no one wanted to shell out the money on an omega for a player that might never be called up.

 

As much as Omega 97’s scent was helping, at the follow-up appointment with the team doctor two days after he’d selected her, he’d still been more than a bit reluctant to reveal that her scent had a noticeable effect on his moods. The doctor was just doing their job, and didn’t deserve Ben’s surliness, but it irritated him to no end that he was subjected to stuff like this. Snoke didn’t expect the betas on the team to humiliate themselves with questions about their ruts and masturbation habits or force them to keep freshly scented items on them at all times.

 

It was beyond frustrating.

 

Being an alpha was what made him such an interesting, and potentially valuable, center for the team, but it was also a liability – and not one that many teams had wanted when he’d been eligible for the draft last year. Being one of the last picks had stung more than Ben wanted to admit, but he was well aware why they all shied away from – and it had very little to do with how he played on the ice.

 

A decade ago – hell, even up until the last few years – he would have been relegated to just being an enforcer because of his designation. Not many people would take a risk on an alpha like him – especially with rumors floating around that he took after his grandfather with how ruthless he was on the ice.

 

Ben wasn’t so sure about that, but he still complied with the league’s requirements. His grandfather had been a legend well before the incident, and despite what a few people had whispered, more than once, Uncle Luke had reminded Ben that he didn’t have the same level of raw talent that Anakin had. It was no wonder that his uncle hadn’t wanted to allow Ben into his development camp when he’d been younger.

 

The urge to be aggressive on the ice was still there, of course, - it’d be nearly impossible to completely do away with that – but the fresh scent from the omega dampened things. Not much, but enough that coaches like Snoke were willing to take a chance on an overly large center – especially when the team’s owners were pushing for the Capitals to make a move that got people talking about them again after missing out on the playoffs the last few years.

 

And signing the grandson of the man responsible for the Maple Leaf Tragedy was just the thing to do that.

 

God, he hated that nickname. He hadn’t been able to escape it last year when he’d been playing for the Capitals’ AHL team, the Endor Bears. It’d been all over the place – TikTok, Instagram, hell, even the local news had a special segment revisiting the tragic game where his grandfather had gone into a blind rage from a breakthrough rut as horrified fans watched.

 

He’d worked so hard to leave his grandfather’s legacy behind him that he wasn’t going to cause waves now, but it didn’t stop people from taunting him about it. People still brought up the game in his senior year when he’d almost broken another player’s leg in a fight that had broken out.

 

No one seemed to care that the other team had been taunting Ben all game about the Maple Leafs and how he’d end up just like his grandfather. It was unfair, but then, Ben was used to that, and now, as he suited up for his last full week of practice as an official Coruscant Capital before the preseason started, he knew he’d only get one shot, and he’d do whatever it took to not ruin things.

 

---

It’d been a grueling run through, every muscle aching despite all the work he’d put into conditioning before he’d arrived in Coruscant, but he’d managed to get a few nods of approval out of the coaches. And he knew Snoke had been pleased when he’d been the only one to pull off a couple of goals on Trudgen in the last on-ice drill.

 

“A few of us are going to Dex’s after practice if you want to join us,” Kuruk offered as they made their way into the locker room after practice.

 

“What?” Ben asked, too distracted by the message that had been waiting for him on his phone to process what the team captain was saying.

 

“You know, food. You can join us,” Kuruk said, shucking off his gear.

 

“I don’t know,” Ben hesitated. Most of the guys had been welcoming enough, but he still felt out of sorts as he tried to figure out his place here.

 

“Come on, Solo,” Trudgen said, his voice carrying from across the room. “Dex’s Diner is a tradition around here. It’s been my fifth season with the Capitals, and I’ve eaten there more during the season than my own apartment.”

 

Laughter echoed throughout the locker room, accompanied by murmurs of agreement. Everyone knew their veteran goalie rarely spent more than a night or two at his own place in any given week. The advantage of being one of the most established players on the team, Ben supposed, and it certainly didn’t hurt that Trudgen’s younger brother was the star player for the Canto Bight Knights and just so happened to be dating the current “it” pop artist. Everyone from the team president to the plumber down the street wanted to get close to him.

 

“Oh, uh, maybe next time,” Ben said, brushing off their offer as he reread the message twice more.

 

It was more embarrassing than he wanted to admit but he’d received a notification from the courier service the Capitals had contracted with that a special package was going to be arriving at his apartment within the next hour. It was the second one so far from Omega 97, and he was already greedy for more.

 

“Are you sure?” Trudgen asked. “Wanted to pick your brain about how you got off that second shot today.”

 

“Sorry,” Ben said, flashing an apologetic smile. “I have something that can’t wait.”

 

He just hoped none of them could read minds, because the last thing he wanted was for the guys to know that the words omega omega omega had been whirling through his head the moment he’d seen the notification on his phone. It was enough to make him shift, his glands itchy with anticipation at the knowledge that a fresh delivery from Omega 97 was on its way to him.

 

“Sure,” Kuruk said, quickly tossing off his gear before grabbing a towel. “But if you change your mind, I know Vic and the others would be happy to have you join us. With the season just around the corner, it’ll be good for us to get to know each other outside of the rink.”

 

Ben nodded. He knew that Kuruk was right. More than once, bad team chemistry had doomed a season before it even started, and hanging out with a few of the guys from the first two lines was only going to help if – when – he got on the ice.

 

Because he would get on the ice.

 

Snoke had already informed him that his performance in the pre-season was going to determine whether he’d get a chance at being more than the fourth line, and Ben wasn’t willing to risk going back to the minors. All he’d ever wanted to do was play hockey, and he’d worked far too hard to be here to let the opportunity disappear now.

 

---

The package from Omega 97 arrived at his apartment a few minutes after he got home. Ben mumbled an apology when he grabbed the box from the courier with a little more force than he intended before quickly shutting the door.

 

He still needed a shower, but Ben ignored that as he ripped the box open, the contents spilling over his coffee table as the fresh scent of Omega 97 slammed into him.

 

Fuck. She was still just as perfect as the day he’d picked her out.

 

And it went straight to his cock, feeling almost dizzy as all the blood rushed south as his mouth watered with how much he ached to taste her sweet scent directly from the source.

 

Grabbing the gray scrunchie that had been on top, the silky material absolutely soaked with her scent – like she’d just run it through her slick after masturbating – Ben flopped back on his couch, shoving his sweatpants down with frantic shaky movements before taking his aching cock in hand.

 

He was more than tempted to suck on it. Soak up every last trace of her slick and scent and very essence. But he wasn’t quite that desperate. Not yet.

 

There was something about denying himself that, Ben thought, as he started to run the scrunchie over his cock. He was so pent up between Omega 97’s scent and the knowledge that not that long ago, she’d been touching the same silky material that was currently wrapped around his cock, that it only took a few strokes to bring him to the very precipice of an orgasm.

 

Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend that Omega 97 was in the room with him. That it was her hand wrapped around his cock as his hips rolled, following the movement of the silky material up and down over and over again. That she was whispering soft words as she coaxed him to give in. To cover her with his scent as if he were claiming her.

 

Damn. Just a little more. And then…

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck.

 

A groan echoed through his apartment, his chest was heaving as he gave into his orgasm, thick ropes of cum covered his hand as he collapsed back on the couch, utterly spent.

 

It took a minute or two for everything to catch up to Ben as he realized his cum had stained the scrunchie he still held. Fuck. He hadn’t thought about how their scents would mix together until that very moment, the tempting sweetness of Omega 97 blending almost perfectly with his own as it created something that was a unique combination of both of them.

 

It was nearly enough to tempt Ben to chase Omega 97 down. To find out what it’d be like if she was in the room with him as their scents merged instead of this lopsided, unsatisfactory arrangement where he’d never be able to meet the omega that made him ache with how much he longed for her.

 

It was pathetic.

 

He was pathetic.

 

If only Omega 97 knew the hold she had on him.

Notes:

As a note for this chapter: In this AU, I've written Anakin Skywalker as an alpha who played professional hockey for a few years. He was considered to be one of the greatest to touch the ice until an incident occurred where he accidentally killed a player and hurt several others mostly due to a furious rage caused by a breakthrough rut. It's vaguely referred to as "the incident" and the "Maple Leaf Tragedy" and the public speculates that Ben will take after his grandfather in every way.

I don't have plans on Ben being any more violent than a typical hockey player, and he definitely won't ever hurt Rey in this AU, but I wanted to warn that sports-related violence may briefly be referred to again in future chapters.

 

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3

Hurrying down the busy street, Rey knew that she was going to be late for her shift at Dex’s again. It’d be a miracle if she didn’t get yelled at for it, but there really wasn’t anything she could have done – this time, at least. She’d left her shoebox-sized apartment halfway across the city with enough time to spare, but then she’d had to make a stop along the way for her second job, and now she was practically running to get to the diner.

 

It wasn’t her fault that the local courier service she was supposed to use for the Omega Service had been unusually slow that morning. The past few times she’d gone, it’d taken only a minute or two to drop her package off, but today there’d been four people in line in front of her, and the clearly bored clerk behind the counter was processing items about as slow as he could.

 

If her package hadn’t been so time sensitive, she would have come back later. But it had to go out today, or else she’d risk being in violation of her contract, and Rey really didn’t want that. Not when she was finally starting to get on her feet.

 

It didn’t help when the lady in front of her turned to look at Rey when she walked in, the judgement in her eyes when she spotted the slightly raised, flushed gland on her wrist, making her stomach twist. Dammit. She’d been in such a rush that she skipped taking her suppressants today. Her next heat wasn’t for another few weeks, but with everything she had to do to prepare the items in the box, it’d left her more than a bit on edge.

 

God, she really hoped that no one here was aware of what she was sending through the courier service. Not that this was the sort of place that inspired curiosity with its nondescript storefront and lack of advertising. There were a handful of places just like it across the city, and unless someone were in the know, they wouldn’t suspect that it catered to a specific sort of high-end clientele.

 

Still, Rey couldn’t quiet the nerves curling in her stomach that the lady right in front of her knew that there was a pair of slick-soaked pink panties in the box. Or that the middle-aged guy processing the packages might suspect she’d spent all morning making sure that the neck guard had been thoroughly coated in her essence.

 

It wasn’t like she was ashamed of what she was doing.

 

Services like this had existed for almost as long as omegas and alphas had, and even if it wasn’t something talked about much around betas, Rey knew she wasn’t the only omega in the city that earned extra cash this way. But that didn’t stop her from worrying that some judgmental beta who didn’t understand why she was doing this would find out that she was carrying a small box full of slick-soaked items, and that in the next hour, they’d be on their way to the alpha she’d been hired to produce them for.

 

It was fine. There was nothing on the box to indicate it was being sent as part of the Omega Service. No curious onlookers would be able to tell what was inside.

 

At least the money from her second job more than made up for any anxiety she experienced every time she dropped a package off. It’d only been a few weeks, and yet she’d already been able to catch up on rent with just enough left over for next month. And after she got paid for today, she’d finally be able to start paying Finn back the money she’d borrowed when she’d been trying to find a place of her own to stay.

 

If only things hadn't taken so long at the courier shop because now, she was late for her shift at the diner.

 

As poorly as it paid some weeks, she really didn’t want to get fired. Dex had taken a chance on her when she’d shown up one night, with no experience or references as she asked for an application. Not just anyone would have been willing to hire an underage omega who’d decided to run away from her last foster care home and was barely old enough to hold a job. But Dex had, and despite his gruff alpha exterior, she’d learned that in his own way, he cared about all the strays he’d accumulated over the years.

 

Besides, he'd been good to her in a time when she’d written off all the adults in her life, and now that she was older and things were finally turning around for her, Rey wasn’t going to let it all slip away.

 

But first, she really had to get better at arriving to work on time.

 

---

Dex’s Diner was off the beaten path, tucked away in the shadows of a few big buildings, but it was close enough to the Capital’s arena to attract all sorts of people. It wasn’t anything fancy – the faded blue-green vinyl on the seats and checkboard floor hadn’t been updated since before Rey was born – but the food was decent enough and the prices were about the cheapest anyone could find in this part of the city, which kept the regulars coming back again and again. And today was no different, with most of the tables full when Rey walked in, with everyone from the janitor next door to a couple of people in suits to a table full of NHL players waiting to order.

 

“Finally,” Rose said, looking harried with hands full of dishes when Rey rushed into the kitchen 30 minutes after her shift was to begin.

 

“Sorry,” Rey apologized, quickly clocking in before tossing a black server apron and shoving an order pad and pen into one of the pockets. “I got held up trying to mail something.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Rose said, rolling her eyes as she shoved a couple plates at Rey. “These go to table 5. And then take the order at 11. I’ve been trying to cover your section, but it’s been busy.”

 

“I owe you one,” Rey said, following behind Rose as they headed out of the busy kitchen.

 

“One of these days, Rey,” Rose said with a grin. “I’m going to call in all of those favors you owe me.”

 

They both laughed, knowing that Rose had covered for Rey more times than she could count at this point. If it wasn’t for her, Dex would have probably given up and fired Rey's ass ages ago.

 

It wasn’t like she tried to be a bad waitress.

 

She just struggled with being on time.

 

And not getting into fights when a customer was an entitled ass.

 

But that was part of her charm. At least, that’s what a few of the regulars had said when they’d watched her kick out a sleazy suit who had no business eyeing up the waitresses the way he was. Or when she made it abundantly clear that any alpha who stepped foot inside the diner had better behave.

 

Slipping on her fake customer service voice, Rey dropped the food off at table 5 before making her way over to table 11, where five overly large hockey players were busy chatting away with each other while they waited. If she didn’t know they were all betas, it would have been easy to mistake them for alphas. Though that probably had something to do with hockey since they were all signed to the Coruscant Capitals, and both Finn and Rose had commented more than once about the wonder that was hockey thighs.

 

Not that she'd paid much attention to that.

 

“Rey!” Trudgen greeted, breaking off his conversation to give her a wide smile when she approached the table. It wasn’t the first time a few of the professional athletes had stopped by Dex’s, and this group had made a habit of coming in often enough during her shifts that she’d gotten to know a few of them by name.

 

“Hi Trudgen,” Rey said with an apologetic smile as she pulled out her pad. “Sorry about the wait. What can I get for you guys?”

 

It didn’t take long for the orders to be put in, and as Rey came around to refill their drinks, she couldn’t help but overhear part of their conversation.

 

“What do you think about Solo?”

 

“I like the kid,” Kuruk said, murmuring a thanks when Rey topped off his water. “But I don’t know if he’s going to make it. Snoke’s been awfully hard on him.”

 

“Shame,” Trudgen said, shaking his head. “Not often an alpha like him gets drafted.”

 

“Eh, I think he might have a chance,” Vicrul said, flashing Rey a smile when she moved past his chair. “He just needs to find a nice omega to help him relax.”

 

Rey could feel her cheeks flushing as she hurried away, knowing exactly what Vicrul was implying while laughter boomed around the table. On the scale of crude jokes she’d heard as an omega, this didn’t even register. And besides, the guys were harmless enough, and they always tipped well - though she couldn’t deny that it made her a little curious about their teammate. She didn’t really follow hockey, but from what she knew, alphas weren’t that common in professional sports these days.

 

Something about fairness, or at least, that’s what a few commissioners had claimed.

 

Their order got held up in the kitchen for longer than normal, and she would have thought they’d have moved on to a new topic when she returned to the table nearly twenty minutes later with their food, but no, they were still talking about the situation with Solo.

 

“Hey, Rey, you’re an omega, aren’t you?”

 

“Wh – what?” Rey asked, her hands suddenly clammy and briefly struggling to not drop everything straight onto Kuruk’s lap when Vicrul turned to ask her the question.

 

“Vicrul,” Trugden hissed, glaring at his teammate. “You can’t just ask someone that.”

 

“What?” Vicrul asked, the innocence in his voice at odds with the mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

“It’s rude.”

 

“Really rude,” Cardo chimed in. “You know that.”

 

“It’s ok,” Rey said, wanting to just brush off the situation. “Not the first time someone asked.”

 

It wasn’t like she tried very hard to hide her designation these days, but it was the first time any of the Capitals’ players had brought it up. Weird. She wondered if it had something to do with what she’d overheard.

 

“Ignore him. Please,” Kuruk said, giving Vicrul a shove. “Think we knocked him down on the ice too many times today.”

 

“Hey!” Vicrul interjected, faux offense in his voice.

 

“He’s a dumbass,” Trudgen said, glaring at Vicrul once more before turning to smile at Rey. “But we were wondering if you’d like to come to one of our games sometime.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rey hesitated, caught off guard by the request. It was about the last thing she expected after Vicrul’s question.

 

“I’ve got some extra tickets,” Cardo offered. “You could bring a few of your friends with you.”

 

“I – I – ”

 

“Could even get you right near the ice too,” Cardo added, his voice earnest. “So you won’t miss any of the action.”

 

“Or any of the players,” Vicrul said, his mischievous grin fading when one of the guys kicked him under the table.

 

“Think about it?” Trudgen asked when Rey didn’t answer right away. “Our first home game is against the Leafs, and we’d love to have our favorite waitress there to see us kick their ass.”

 

The other guys nodded their heads and gave Rey such pathetic pleading looks that she couldn’t help but laugh. It was oddly charming.

 

“No promises. But maybe,” Rey said, unsure why she was thinking about agreeing to this. Not once in her time at Dex’s had she ever interacted with a customer outside of the diner. “I need to check my schedule first.”

 

Vicrul started to speak, but before he could get a word out, Kuruk slapped his hand over the other man’s mouth. And the outraged look on Vicrul’s face nearly made Rey giggle.

 

What in the world was going on?

 

“Sure, Rey. No pressure,” Kuruk said, grunting a little when Vicrul tried to wrestle free of his hold. “And if that game doesn’t work, I’m sure we’ve got a few spare tickets to one of our other home games.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She was almost relieved when an older couple entered the diner a moment later and she was spared having to respond to one of the strangest conversations she’d had in a while. And when Rey eventually returned to table 11 to check on them, she found a pile of twenties that more than covered their bill and a hastily scrawled note.

 

Sorry about Vic. He’s an idiot.

If you want the tickets, let me know.

We'd all love to have you there.

555-237-9251

-Trudgen

 

Huh. Today was just going to be one of those days.

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

This was supposed to be a simple PWP, but I've added more background in this chapter than I planned, and the KOR decided to meddle, so a tiny bit of plot may make an appearance.