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The jingle of the Zoom call connecting fills the otherwise quiet apartment. Louis readjusts his position on the sofa, balancing the laptop precariously on his thighs. His fingers float across the mouse pad, trailing up to the corner of the internet browser to expand the video chat tab to the full-size option. The middle-aged face of his therapist fills the screen. The professional, sterile walls of her office fade into the background thanks to a special blurring feature that Zoom offers. He knows her office well - has been there multiple times - but is grateful that his last few sessions have been moved online as it has been a struggle to leave his apartment lately.
“Hi, Louis!” Romelda greets him through the screen, offering him a warm smile and a quick wave. The gold bangles on her wrist clink together. “How have you been?”
Louis shrugs his shoulders and the baggy sweater he is wearing sags with the movement. “Fine.”
The lie rolls off his tongue so easily. He has not been fine.
His lack of sleep has been getting worse. He has barely been getting three hours of restless sleep a night, and his touch deprivation symptoms are flaring again, worse than before. There is a small positive. One of the worst among his rolodex of countless symptoms -- tired, itchy eyes -- has been getting better, thanks to the eye drops he got prescribed last week.
The little bottle of medicated eye drops sits on a shelf in his medicine cabinet, along with a cocktail of multiple prescription drugs that have a variety of side effects. The lineup of these neon orange bottles is undisputed medical proof that things are not fine.
Romelda gives Louis a look through the screen that conveys she does not quite believe his lie, but she does not push the issue. She knows better. They have built a great therapeutic rapport over the last few months, and Louis has been known to shut down emotionally when challenged. She has learned that by letting him be, his thoughts will eventually come out more naturally, which will lead to more therapeutic progress.
“Well, thank you again for accommodating the transition to online support,” Romelda says. “I'm afraid the construction on our building means the elevators are still out of commission, and I know how difficult stairs are for you at the moment.”
Louis nods, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater. If he had scissors close by he would cut it off. “Course… It is no trouble. I enjoy the online sessions. They are easier for me.”
He receives another soft smile through the screen, and then Romelda begins the session with the Two Roses, One Thorn therapy activity, which is how she usually starts all their sessions. The activity prompts Louis to think of two positive updates he can share since his last session, and one thing that he is still struggling with and hopes to improve.
“Uh….” He pauses to think. “One rose since our last session was that I got prescribed eye drops. They seem to be helping my tired eyes.”
“Oh Louis, that is wonderful!” Romelda praises. Louis can hear through the speakers that she is taking notes, scratching her pen throughout her client notebook. He can picture the notebook, though it is currently out of frame. He has seen it before. Brown leather - the standard for most therapists. “I know that symptom was particularly concerning for you.”
“Yeah it was…” He trails off. “The burning and itchy eyes were not fun at all.”
Louis struggles to think of another positive update to share. They sit in silence for a little while he thinks.
“Let's think of small roses… buds, really,” Romelda suggests gently, guiding the session forward. “Have you showered since we last spoke? I know sometimes daily tasks of self-care can be challenging for you.”
Louis sniffs, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah… I showered a few days ago. Probably should again tonight, though.”
He does not mention that it took him over two hours to implement said shower, too exhausted to even begin the process. The idea of even gathering towels and turning on the water was too overwhelming, his arms and feet feeling weighed down with something akin to lead. After the shower, he was out of commission for the next day, with barely enough energy to make toast. How can something as easy as a shower make someone so tired that they cannot function?
“Well, a shower is a rose!” Romelda announces. “What is a thorn you would like to share? Something you want to focus on improving.”
Louis knows the answer instantly. He has used it as a thorn during their sessions before, as it has been his biggest struggle.
“My sleep,” he answers. “Suffering with a sleep disorder AND touch deprivation is … hard, to say the least.” He huffs a sarcastic laugh, an act that Romelda explained in one of their earlier sessions to be a defense mechanism. He tugs at the loose thread he has been fiddling with on his cuff some more, unraveling it further. He really should get up and grab some scissors.
Romelda is quiet, giving him space and time to continue. Sometimes it is hard for him to articulate his thoughts. Her ability to know when to probe, and when to give him space to process his thoughts, proves her expertise as a therapist.
“I guess if I improve my insomnia, and lack of sleep, I will have more energy to deal with the other symptoms that have manifested in the last few months,” he explains. “It is hard to function on three hours of sleep, and I feel like I could improve more if only I could sleep a full night.”
“I think focusing on your insomnia is a great idea, Louis,” Romelda agrees, her voice gentle and supportive, then comes the tell-tale sound of her writing things down in her notepad again. “But remember, during one of our very first sessions we talked about how all of this is a trauma response. None of this is your fault.”
The computer screen in front of him gets a bit blurry, and he realizes with belated horror that his eyes have started to tear. Great, now he is crying during therapy. How cliché.
Louis clears his throat and inconspicuously wipes a stray tear off his cheek, his fingers feeling the roughness of his stubble. He really should shave, maybe tonight when he has that shower. An omega male sporting a five o’clock shadow on his face is very taboo within their culture, but shaving has taken a back seat to his other priorities at the moment.
“On the topic of your insomnia, have you enacted some of the self-care strategies we have talked about during our other sessions?”
Louis shrugs and attempts to blink away the remaining tears that threaten to spill over. “Yeah, I have tried essential oils, rearranging my nest, a bath, no screens at least an hour beforehand, and of course my prescribed sleeping pills, Triazolam AND Zolpidem. Even after doing all of that, I am lucky if I get three hours of sleep a night.”
After he shares what he has been doing on most nights to combat his lack of sleep, a silence hangs between them. Louis cannot help overthinking the silence and what it could mean. Maybe Romelda will drop him as a patient? Maybe his progress has not been good enough? These thoughts tangle his stomach into knots until Louis watches as Romelda reaches across her desk to grab something. It looks like the licensed prescription booklet that she uses to prescribe medication, but he cannot tell for sure.
Finally, Romelda breaks the silence. “I think it may be time for you to try something…. different.”
Louis fidgets on his sofa, nervous. “What - what do you have in mind? A new medication?”
He is less than enthused about being forced onto another medication. He has already tried most of them, to no avail, and the cocktail of prescriptions he is currently taking has been very expensive, even after using his drug benefit copay for each refill.
“Sort of…. Louis, have you heard of Prescription Pillows?”
He racks his brain for any previous mention of such a thing but does not recall Romelda ever mentioning them before. He is surprised they have not talked about pillows before; however, he is not sure how much a pillow will help him at this point.
“Prescription Pillows? Like, for my head and neck?” Louis asks, confused. “I think my current pillows are fine… I have an ergonomic one already, and it is pretty supportive. It is made out of memory foam.”
Romelda appears to hold back a chuckle. “They are not real pillows.”
“What are they then? Forgive me for thinking a pillow is a pillow,” he jokes, though now he is even more confused. Isn’t a pillow a pillow?
“They are professional cuddlers we employ through an agency, available only for omega patients with the most severe cases of diagnosed insomnia. They are for omegas who have explored all other available options, and have tried most medications, with no improvement. You would qualify to receive one.”
“People?” Louis deadpans. “You can prescribe me a … person?”
The thought of Louis being prescribed a person is odd and weird. He balks at the suggestion, and a wave of embarrassment crashes into him at the mere thought that he needs a professional person to cuddle him to sleep. Much like the orange pill bottles in his medicine cabinet, it is only more evidence that something is wrong with him. His scent sours, tinging his usually fruity lemon scent with a strong hint of eye-watering ammonia.
“All of the pillows are vetted beforehand, and insured, of course. We have had great success with them - an over 97% success rate for omega patients suffering from insomnia.”
A 97% success rate is pretty impressive, and not something to dismiss. He bites his lip, actually considering the ridiculous option.
“Are they all alphas?” he asks, curious.
“Most are. There are betas available, however, with your touch deprivation diagnosis, an alpha may be the better option for you, Louis.”
His face warms from the suggestion of an alpha entering his nest and cuddling him to sleep. Oh hell, he might as well try it. “Okay, I will take the prescription. I guess it is worth a try.”
Romelda nods at his verbal consent, and begins to fill out what Louis assumes is the prescription needed. “I really hope this helps you, Louis. I would love to see your sleep improve.”
He sighs. “Me too.”
“There is only one caveat to this prescription,” Romelda admits.
“What is it?”
“You have to drop this prescription off in person. Unfortunately, I cannot fax this type of prescription to your pharmacy like I did with the Prozac a few weeks ago. You need to drop it off yourself, in order to display proper consent.”
Louis’ body tenses with the knowledge that a trip out into the real world is in his imminent future. Usually, he likes a few days to prepare for such an endeavor. A simple shower takes him hours; leaving his flat and going out in public is even worse. So much for shaving tonight. He surely can’t get both things done. A trip out of his flat will leave him recovering for a few days. His nails press into his palms and he takes a deep grounding breath, willing the nausea that has bubbled up in his tummy away.
“That is fine,” he says, choking out his second lie of the day. “Clifford and I could use the fresh air.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
There is only one blessing this new life of chronic illness has brought him, and that blessing is Louis’ medical alert dog, Clifford. The black and white labradoodle was trained through an agency, and matched with Louis about a year ago, after much eager waiting and endless paperwork.
Clifford is more than a pet. He is task-trained to alert Louis to a future Omega Drop almost ten minutes before one happens. He also brings Louis any emergency medication, provides him with daily emotional support, and provides deep compression on Louis’ chest, where he lays on Louis during the event of a drop to help ground him. Thanks to a blue dog rope hanging from the fridge handle, he can even open the fridge and bring Louis a bottle of water on command. Yes, Clifford is pretty smart, and Louis struggles to remember how he managed to function without the help of his furry friend.
It is about an hour after his therapy session and Louis gives Clifford’s service dog harness one final tug to ensure it is secure, then attaches the leather leash to it with a click. When Clifford is in the apartment, he does not wear the harness, but he knows that when it goes on, work has begun. He quite enjoys the task of working.
The action of the leash connecting to the harness has Clifford shaking in excitement, his nails tapping on the linoleum floor of the apartment. His wet nose presses against the front door, and he lets out a sharp whine.
Louis’ nervous, hesitant energy is a stark contrast to the excited, impatient dog whining at the door. He is less than enthused about this unplanned trip out to the pharmacy. Although he does take Clifford to the small dog park a few blocks away for exercise, this spontaneous trip involves battery-draining social interaction, loud stimulating environments, and suffering on the public bus system.
Not to mention seeing and smelling alphas, which affects him tenfold due to his touch deprivation.
It will take him a few days to recover from this excursion, surely.
Just as Louis is about to leave the flat, his hand on the steel doorknob, wrist beginning to twist, he remembers he forgot to apply his scent neutralizer, proof of the fact that he does not do these types of trips very often.
He drops Clifford’s leash to the floor and quickly rushes into the washroom, leaving a very confused Clifford behind. He grabs the aerosol can from his medicine cabinet and gives it a quick shake to activate it; the canister rattles.
A male omega out in public with a five o'clock shadow on his face is frowned upon and judged harshly, but going out in public without a neutralizer on is even worse. Pheromones not being masked is seen as a lewd, perverted act, one most commonly associated with prostitutes trying to get a client.
Much to Louis’ chagrin, his omega pheromones are stronger thanks to his touch deprivation diagnosis. He is glad he remembered. He gives the scent neutralizer canister a quick spray, pressing down on the nozzle with his thumb, the fine mist particles falling onto his body and masking his fruity lemon dessert scent.
Recapping the aerosol canister, he gives the air a quick sniff test to make sure his scent is truly gone. He lifts his left armpit and sticks his nose into it, taking a deep inhale. No lemon scent. The crisis of leaving his apartment smelling like a walking sex ad averted, Louis rejoins Clifford at the door. He has been waiting patiently, like the good boy he always is.
Louis stoops down and scoops up the leash lying on the floor, then places his special UV-coated sunglasses over his eyes. As mentioned in his therapy session, the eye drops have helped, but his eyes are still very sensitive to the sunlight, and he knows the fluorescent lights in the pharmacy will be headache-inducing.
“Alright, Clifford, we can do this.” The labradoodle looks up at him, eyes blinking at him in silent support.
He steels himself, bracing for the onslaught of sensory overstimulation he will endure for the next hour or so, and yanks open the door.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The brush of a wet nose against the back of Louis’ hand pulls him out of his daze, and he blinks. The female pharmacist in her white lab coat stands at the pharmacy counter, waiting for him to approach, an annoyed expression on her face. Clifford presses his cold nose against his palm again, pulling him further back into reality. A person waiting behind him coughs. He realizes a bit belatedly that he is next in line.
Oops.
He wobbles up to the counter, a little off balance, and pulls out the reason for his visit, a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. Romelda had emailed him the prescription, and luckily he had ink left in his printer.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I am dropping off this prescription,” he whispers.
She snatches the piece of paper from him. She glances at it briefly, then begins typing into their computer system, fingers clicking on the keyboard. “This prescription should be processed by tonight. We will set you up with the Prescription Pillow phone app, and then you will get a notification tonight, stating what alpha has been assigned as your pillow.”
“Tonight?” he squeaks. “That is so soon.”
“Yes, we usually want to start the medicine right away,” the pharmacist explains.
Louis snorts at the concept of a stinky, macho, annoying alpha being considered medicine.
A droplet of cold sweat travels down his back; he can feel it. He can also hear the humming of the fluorescent lights above him, the loud beeping of the cash registers further into the store, and a young pup crying a few aisles over. The overstimulation causes his head to feel detached from his body and his vision blurs while his body sways. He scratches at his wrist, trying to avert a meltdown. He looks down at his wrist and sees a small rash beginning to bloom there; his nails rake over it again.
The pharmacist's eyes catch the movement, and she gives him a sympathetic smile. “This shouldn't take too long,” she soothes, dropping the crinkled piece of paper into an electronic scanner. “We just need to scan this into our system and then we can set you up with the app. This will all take about five minutes, tops.”
He scratches more at the rash blooming on his wrist, causing Clifford to whine and try to distract him from doing any further scratching by leaning his full 70-pound weight against Louis’ legs. It is a success, as Louis stops scratching and presses his hands into Clifford's soft fur instead, grounding himself. He pets Clifford gently, grateful for the distraction. This whole experience is going to be terrible.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The notification that he has been matched with a Prescription Pillow comes at around 8 PM that night. Louis' hair is still damp from his shower, and he can barely use his arm to lift his phone up to his face to blink at the bright screen. Maybe having a shower after such a busy day – not just the draining therapy session earlier in the morning, but also a trip to the pharmacy – was not the best idea. He has truly pushed himself past the point of his typical exhaustion. But he could not let an alpha see him with greasy, matted hair. It is bad enough that he still has not shaved the shadow off his face, but this alpha will have to accept it. Shaving would have been a mistake, and would definitely have made this into something it is not. This is not a date where he needs to woo and impress - this is merely a healthcare tool.
He squints at his phone, his brain taking a moment to register the name of the alpha he has been assigned: Harry Styles. He then notices another notification pop-up in the app that says Harry will be here in ten minutes. Louis whines, and the high-pitched, needy sound makes Clifford tilt his head from where he is busy gnawing on his nightly bone in his dog bed.
The whine surprises Louis too. Being desperate enough to whine is foreign to him. He has not whined in a long time. One would say that he has gotten used to his isolation and independence. It has been a few years since an alpha entered his nest, and just the thought of it happening tonight has Louis feeling anxious deep in his chest.
Though he refuses to admit it out loud, he is also eager for an alpha to give him praise and attention. The thought of an alpha giving him attention, any attention at all, makes his scent stronger instantly. The pheromones, and the whine, reveal his true feelings and what he so desperately craves deep down. Attention, love, connection.
His pheromones get sugary sweet, not too different from a lemon tart fresh out of the oven, or lemon meringue pie made with freshly grated lemon zest. He considers going to reapply his scent neutralizer, but recalls what the pharmacist said before he left: His scent must be unmasked during his cuddle sessions. She said doing so was required by law as a safety precaution, so the alpha can better read the needs and emotions of the omega.
To pass the time until the alpha's arrival, Louis goes into his kitchen and begins filling his tea kettle. His goal is to keep his mind busy while he waits. He fills the kettle, then plugs it into the outlet, watching it while the water begins to warm.
As the steam rises above the kettle, Louis blinks his tired eyes, glancing every few minutes at his front door, waiting. Then suddenly he can smell something from all the way down the street: an alpha.
The faint notes of his pheromones float into Louis’ apartment and surround him. It makes his nose twitch.
The scent is of fresh laundry, and soft cotton. Louis is surprised by this. Clean laundry is a peculiar pheromone scent for an alpha to have. He cannot recall the last time he met an alpha that smelled like fresh laundry, or cotton towels. They usually have a more “manly” scent that evokes memories of nature, like pine and campfire smoke, not one associated with household chores…
It may be a strange scent for an alpha in their society to have, but it is a very comforting one nonetheless. It reminds Louis of opening a dryer full of fresh, clean towels on a Sunday morning - the warm fabric just done tumble drying and ready to be folded.
It makes Louis eager to see the face attached to such a domestic smell. The clean laundry scent grows stronger the closer the alpha gets to the apartment, until it is almost overwhelming. It mingles with Louis’ own lemon scent, and soon his apartment smells like a bottle of laundry detergent was left uncapped.
Louis scratches at his wrist, holds his breath, and then Clifford gives a quick “boof” to alert him to a soft knock at the door. Too late to back out now.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
HARRY
The lemon scent of his newly assigned omega patient invades his senses as soon as he steps off the city bus. The scent associated with this omega is intriguing and lovely, and his alpha is pleased by it, though it makes him crave a lemon tart. He can only hope that the omega he was matched with also finds his scent pleasing.
These sessions are tough when the pheromones do not match. His last omega patient had black pepper as a scent. He spent most of the session trying not to sneeze, and did not return for a second session. Unlike the black pepper, the craving for a lemon tart is easy enough to deal with. He will just have to visit his local bakery in the morning.
The closer he gets to the apartment, the stronger the citrus smell becomes, leading him right to the doorstep. Harry knocks at the apartment door softly and waits, rocking back on his heels. He shoulders his overnight bag, adjusting it back to where it was hanging before the knock. A long moment passes, and Harry considers knocking again, but then the door finally opens. The omega that greets him at the door is a shock, and Harry takes note of his appearance.
With feathery caramel hair and the most beautiful blue eyes that Harry has ever seen, the omega he has been assigned is clearly malnourished, both physically and emotionally. He is thin, with baggy clothing that hangs off his petite frame, and deep purple bruising under his puffy eyes, proving his exhaustion. His body is hunched over in a submissive stance, or has a posture weighted down by exhaustion, Harry is unsure which. Omegas tend to be smaller in stature than alphas, and this one proves that statistic. His height, though it is affected by his posture, is a little shorter than Harry's own six foot frame. One could use the word compact and it would describe the omega perfectly.
The condition of the omega in front of him has Harry's alpha concerned, which is typical of these first meetings. Most of the omegas within this cuddle program are struggling with their self-care, which always triggers most alphas' instinct to provide. But now he has to push down a new, unique wave of emotion that crashes over him.
There is a desire to mate the omega, to claim him as his own. The urge to bite, to mark and claim, comes as a surprise, almost knocking the air out of his lungs with the force of it.
This type of emotion has never surfaced before. Before the fantasy of mating the omega gets stronger, he pushes it away to deal with later. He must remain professional and unattached. The teal-coloured medical scrubs he is wearing help with that. He is only here to help the omega sleep.
“Hello,” he greets, offering the omega a warm, non-threatening smile. “You must be Louis. May I come in?”
The omega seems unsure, blue eyes wandering over Harry, assessing the strange alpha standing on his doorstep. For a brief moment, Harry worries he is going to get turned away. It has happened before. Just because an omega gets the prescription filled does not mean they cannot change their mind later on in the process.
“I - I guess so. I hope you are okay with dogs?” Louis asks, opening the door wider for Harry to enter the apartment. A black and white labradoodle greets Harry at the threshold, sniffing at his legs.
Harry nods. “Your medical profile mentioned a service dog, and I love them, so no worries.”
Once Harry fully enters the apartment, the dog runs off to grab a stuffed toy, carrying it back to Harry in welcome. The labradoodle presses the toy into Harry's thigh, clearly excited about having a visitor. He doubts Louis gets many. “What is his name?”
“Clifford,” Louis answers.
Harry notices the omega scratch at his wrist, and Harry can see the rash blooming there on the skin, though most of it is hidden by a sweater sleeve. Of course, Harry is well aware of Louis’ touch deprivation diagnosis and has dealt with a few omegas in this program with such a condition before. Insomnia is a common comorbidity to touch deprivation, but it still bothers his alpha to see an omega so distressed that he is scratching himself raw.
Harry drops his overnight bag by the door with a thunk, just as the sound of a tea kettle whistling fills the apartment, startling them both.
The whistle makes Louis rush into a kitchen that is a few feet from the entrance, yanking the cord of the kettle to unplug it from the wall in order to stop its shrieking.
The omega glances back over his shoulder. “Would you like a tea?” he asks, reaching into the cupboard above his head for some mugs. “It is my nighttime ritual and it would be rude of me not to offer.”
“Please, I would love one.”
Harry takes a seat at the wooden dining table that is wedged into the corner of the small kitchen. The weathered chair creaks as he sits.
A small carton of cream is added to the middle of the table, along with a decorative glass sugar bowl, before Louis finally settles down at the table with him, holding two mugs of steeping tea.
Their fingers brush as Harry takes his steaming mug, and an innocent finger brush should not make Harry feel butterflies, but it does. He murmurs a hushed thanks.
After a couple of quick dunks of the steeping tea bag, he deems his tea strong enough and then removes it completely.
While Harry adds a splash of cream to his tea and drops in a sugar cube, Louis sips at his black, with the tea bag string still hanging over the rim as he drinks. The omega must like his tea strong. The realization that the cream and sugar bowl were only placed on the table on account of him makes Harry smile.
“When was the last time you had something to eat?” Harry asks, concerned. The question is not uncommon for him to ask, but it is a little early in their relationship for him to be bringing up such a topic. Harry can not deny the strong instinct he feels to feed this omega, the urge to do so stronger than with any of his previous patients.
Louis' eyes widen. He glances at the clock that hangs on the wall above the sink, and Harry watches as he does some mental math. “Around noon. I had cereal.”
The answer makes Harry frown. He leaves the table to unzip his overnight bag that sits on the floor, reaching in to grab some protein bars and a few bags of vacuum-sealed beef jerky. He zips his bag shut again and rejoins Louis at the table. Chair creaking as he sits, he nudges the food towards the omega.
“Eat,” Harry orders.
“I thought you were just here to cuddle me to sleep,” Louis argues, a little stubborn, though his cheeks turn a pretty pink hue, clearly pleased with the attention.
“Being a Prescription Pillow involves many things,” Harry explains, shrugging in an attempt to appear casual, even though his alpha is worried. “Including making sure the omega is fed and safe.”
The word 'safe' clearly affects Louis - it causes a soft purr to bubble out of his vocal cords. His blue eyes widen in horror, and he coughs, obviously to try to hide the vibrating purr. The sudden purr should not make him feel embarrassed. Harry is pleased to hear it.
The cute sound strokes his alpha's ego, and he can't help wanting to hear it again. Maybe Louis will purr when they are cuddling tonight. He hopes so.
“Please,” Harry begs. “Eat.”
Harry nudges the food closer to the omega, and finally Louis relents. He picks up one of the protein bars, rips one end of it open, and gives it an audible sniff with his nose as if the bar might be poisoned. He takes a small bite, chewing it slowly.
Seeing the omega eat makes Harry relax, but he knows this will be a slow process. They only met a few minutes ago and Harry can already tell Louis is stubborn and will be a challenging patient. Satisfied for now, Harry takes another sip of his tea.
“I can feed myself, you know.” Louis takes another bite despite his halfhearted protest.
Harry aims a pointed look at Louis’ thin frame and baggy clothing, causing the omega to hunch his body in shame, his lemon scent turning a bit sour.
“Sometimes when I eat my tummy hurts afterwards, with very painful cramps,” Louis admits, sniffling. He takes another small nibble of the protein bar.
The admission instantly makes Harry feel like an ass. He quickly puts away what items remain on the table, stuffing them back into his bag. The protein bar Louis is eating should be fine for tonight, but Harry makes a mental note to pack pudding cups, Ensure protein shakes, and applesauce pouches for their next cuddle session instead. Omegas with touch deprivation have sensitive stomachs and respond better to soft foods.
Maybe Louis is unaware that this symptom is caused by his condition? After Harry shares that some omegas with touch deprivation suffer from digestive issues as well, Louis confesses what Harry suspected: that he did not know.
“I am surprised my doctor never mentioned it,” Louis blinks, clearly upset the symptom was never properly addressed by his doctor.
He finishes the protein bar and crinkles the wrapper into his fist. The sight of the empty wrapper eases the worry in Harry's chest, but only a little.
“It is a new development in the study of touch deprivation,” Harry explains. “Lots of traditional doctors still believe the weight loss unbonded omegas experience is due to not having an alpha to provide for them, or an alpha present reminding them to eat, unaware there is actual pain associated with eating certain foods.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course they blame everything on not having an alpha,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his tea, smacking his lips after.
Tipping his mug back, Harry does the same, finishing what is left in it.
“Until we have your energy up, and your sleep managed, I would suggest sticking to soft, bland foods. Then you can slowly introduce different items back into your diet.”
“How long have you been doing this job?” Louis asks, ducking his head in shyness after voicing the question. “You seem very knowledgeable.”
“Two years,” Harry answers, leaning back in his chair and flashing a proud smile. “But I am currently studying to become an OBGYN. My residency on the birthing ward is next semester actually... I figured this job would give me a lot of omega experience.”
This must surprise Louis because Harry notices his eyebrows raise in shock. Most omegas react this way when Harry tells them his residency plans.
An alpha OBGYN on the birthing floor is almost taboo, and very rare in their society. Consequently, it has not been an easy process for Harry to get approval. There has been a lot of bureaucratic bullshit, a lot of red tape, most of it being poorly veiled sexism. Even after getting approval, when he is on the birthing floor he will be required by law to wear a plastic mouthguard, like some sort of beastly animal with no self-control, but there is nothing else Harry would rather do. The hospital even offered him a highly sought after residency in cardiology as a last resort to keep him off the birthing ward, but Harry declined. He has known he wanted to be a “baby doctor” since he was a young pup. He will not let his secondary gender, and his canine teeth, take that dream away from him.
“That is very noble of you, Harry,” Louis says, his soft smile causing his eyes to crinkle in the corners. Then, his voice tinged with sadness, “My mother was a nurse.”
At the mention of his mother, the pretty lemon scent Louis is perfuming the room with suddenly turns sour, almost unbearable, and suffocating. The biting smell vaguely reminds Harry of dicing dozens of onions or spilling a bucket of undiluted bleach. Not stinky or gross per se, but strong. It makes Harry's eyes water and sting from how harsh it is.
The omega lets out a sharp wheeze, and clutches his chest as if he is struggling to breathe. Suddenly Clifford is by Louis' side, appearing out of nowhere, pawing at his thigh. Harry recognizes the tell-tale signs of an impending omega drop instantly, and he confidently springs into action, gathering the small omega into his arms. When Louis stands, he leans his weak body into Harry's side.
Ignoring the stinging in his eyes, Harry simply hoists Louis' limp body up against his chest to carry him into the living room. While he moves to settle them both on the couch, he makes a mental note that Louis' drops have a very quick onset, with not much warning. This one hit him fast, and Harry will remember it for next time. Luckily, Harry knows exactly what to do.
Witnessing an omega drop can be scary for the untrained, but Harry simply guides Louis to nestle his face into the juncture of his neck, right above his collarbone. Once Louis' face is securely pressed against his neck, Harry begins to emit calming, soothing pheromones through his scent gland that is hidden there.
The scent of fresh laundry and warm cotton fabric perfumes the air thickly as Harry's eyebrows crinkle with worry. He does not like seeing Louis in distress.
Clifford joins them at the couch and drops a cold water bottle in Harry's lap, the fridge door still left open and buzzing in the kitchen. The thin plastic of the bottle is a little dented from his teeth. Louis' service dog is clearly very well trained.
“Good boy, Clifford.”
Unscrewing the cap, Harry breaks the plastic seal and holds the bottle up to Louis' lips.
It takes a second but then Louis takes a small sip, proof he has not gone fully under. Harry must have caught it in time. If a drop is caught in time, the omega can avoid losing consciousness, and scenting the omega is the best way to provide aid, though it is not a perfect science. It is in these moments that Harry is thankful for the law that scents must be available for these cuddle sessions. If they were wearing scent neutralizers a drop could result in an ambulance being called.
Louis takes another greedy sip from the bottle being held up to his mouth. A little of the water escapes past his lips and dribbles down his chin. As Louis drinks he looks at Harry with wide eyes, but there is no panic found there, only trust. After another gulp of water, he pulls away from the bottle.
“S - s - sorry,” Louis apologizes, voice stuttering. “I - I didn't mean to drop on you tonight.”
“Shhh, no need to be sorry, love. I've got you.”
He presses his face back into Harry's neck and inhales a deep breath. The omega's lips feel cold and wet against his neck now, thanks to the water. A few minutes pass, and then the omega fully wilts into Harry's embrace, a sign that the worst part of the drop is over.
Almost as if in reaction to the cold water he swallowed, Louis' body begins to tremble and shiver. Harry maneuvers them both to reach for the thick blanket he spots on the back of the couch, draping it over his body. Omegas often get cold after drops and while Harry's body runs warm as an alpha, sometimes it is still not enough.
Now that Harry has the omega gathered in his arms and held against his body, he realizes Louis is truly a tiny little thing - the weight of him nothing. One might describe him as fragile. Harry's chest rumbles with a low growl at the thought of something ever, ever happening to Louis. Even thinking about something as simple as a paper cut on his pinky finger makes the growl increase in volume.
“Are - are you growling?” Louis asks, his voice thin and weary. He tugs the blanket tighter over his shoulders, fingers twisted in the fabric.
He winces, embarrassed at his lack of self-control. It hurts Harry to think he may have scared the poor omega.
“Sorry, that has never happened before… I swear, I never growl. I do not know what just came over me. Sorry if it scared you.”
“No, it was actually kind of…. sweet,” Louis admits quietly, his words barely above a whisper in volume.
Harry ducks his head, cheeks warming with a blush. He clears his throat with a cough. He came here to do a job, not to shamelessly flirt with the pretty omega.
“I think we should move into your nest and get ready for bed,” Harry suggests the idea gently. Some omegas can be territorial over their nests but they tend to recover from drops faster when they are within them, so Harry is eager to get Louis into his.
Louis nods in agreement. “I need to go to the washroom first,” he says, his voice still barely above a whisper. “While I do that, can you let Clifford outside for one last potty break?”
“Of course. Can you stand?” Harry asks.
“I think so.”
Harry helps Louis stand on wobbly, unsteady feet - his hand lingering on the small of his back, keeping him upright. He offers to assist Louis in walking the few feet it takes to get to the washroom, but Louis shrugs him off, saying he will be fine.
On the way to the washroom, Louis shuts the fridge door that has been left open and buzzing since Clifford used the rope hanging there to grab the water bottle. Then Harry is left standing in the living room alone, with a labradoodle he does not own to look after, the scent of lemon tickling his senses and tempting him to bite, to claim, to bond.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
LOUIS
Sitting on the toilet, Louis looks down at his boxers and blinks in confusion. There is a wet spot along the gusset area. He pinches the fabric with his finger and thumb, spreading the wetness around, then brings his hand to his face and sniffs.
Slick, he thinks in surprise.
He has not produced slick in a few years. He tries to think about what could have caused this sudden change in his body.
It must have been the growl…
That must be the reason. His omega has not heard an alpha growl in so long. The only other reason for such a sudden slick happening would be meeting his mate, which is impossible. There is no way Harry is his mate. The chances of that happening are a million to one. Randomly meeting your mate does not happen within their society anymore, with omegas and alphas relying more and more on expensive matching services.
Louis pulls the soiled boxers down his thighs and shins, and then over his feet, stepping out of them. He tosses them into the laundry basket that sits by the shower, half full with other dirty items. Opening the cupboard that is beside the toilet, Louis reaches his arm far back in the space for a pair of slick panties. Luckily there are still a few back in there, left over from when he used to get heats more regularly. Not that he believes he is starting his full heat. He has not had one in years because his hormones have been affected by his illness. No, this is just a random slicking in response to an alpha's growl.
He steps into the black slick panties, rising from the toilet seat and tugging them up his body until they hug his thighs and crotch. He adjusts them, pulling out a wedgie that has settled in his crack, and then stares at himself in the mirror.
Sexy, he mocks himself in the reflection.
At least this is not a hookup. Harry has been sent here to help his insomnia, that's all. Despite the lack of a mating mark on his neck (yes, Louis checked), he could have an omega at home that he is courting. The alpha is very handsome, and his green eyes are dazzling. Louis would be surprised if he did not have an omega already.
The thought of Harry courting an omega other than him has Louis seeing red, the colour filling his vision. The hairs on his arms puff out, rising from his skin as though he’s been electrocuted or has rubbed against something static-inducing… This reaction is ridiculous; there is no reason for him to be jealous. They just met tonight, and Harry is here as a medical tool, not as an alpha to bond with. He pets the hair back down, then throws his sleep shirt over his body. It is an old faded grey Metallica merch t-shirt that grazes midthigh. He would usually forgo wearing pants to bed - he hates when they get twisted around his legs - but does not think that is appropriate for tonight. He pulls on some loose trackies instead.
For a moment he considers changing the t-shirt once he realizes it allows Harry to see all the flaky rashes that cover his arms, but then changes his mind. Harry seems very knowledgeable about touch deprivation and has done this for two years. He feels safe showing the alpha his rashes, confident in the knowledge that Harry will not judge him.
Tipping his plastic pill organizer so his nightly medication rolls into the palm of his hand, he uses the water bottle Clifford retrieved to take his nightly pills: Prozac, Vitamin C & D, Melatonin, Triazolam, AND Zolpidem, and a tiny hormone pill, Venoline. He always double-checks to make sure the hormone pill is there in his palm. It is so tiny, barely the size of a grain of rice.
After he swallows the pills, he grips the bathroom counter, still a little unsteady on his feet from his earlier episode. The bathroom spins, and swirls around him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The dizzy spell is over quickly, and he places the plastic pill organizer back into his medicine cabinet so it is ready for tomorrow morning.
He also completes his second dose of eye drops for the day, tilting his head back and blinking rapidly. He holds the bottle from above and drips a dose into each eye. One misses the target and drips onto the bridge of his nose. The eye drops, and learning how to do them, are still a work in progress and his least favourite thing to do.
Once his teeth are brushed, and he has tested his breath is minty fresh with a quick sniff test into his palm, he exits the bathroom, clicking the light off as he leaves. He realizes he is going to show Harry his nest now.
Fuck.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Louis is seconds away from showing Harry his nest, with the alpha waiting patiently outside his bedroom door, but everything placed in his nest looks …. wrong. The overwhelming urge to please Harry, and to have a good nest for their future pups, claws at Louis' chest. The idea of them having pups together makes absolutely no sense - he has just met the alpha, and they are not bonded - but Louis cannot stop this barreling emotion and this demanding urge to fix his nest until it is perfect. He grabs a random pillow and moves it to a different spot in the nest, then frowns.
Kicking off his slippers, Louis climbs into the nest, settling down into the hoard - soft pile of blankets and random pieces of clothing so carefully constructed on top of his mattress. He uses the palms of his hands to fluff a few of the items, rearranging the soft hoard into something he feels somewhat proud of. The pillow he moved only moments ago eventually makes its way back to the original place where it began. He scratches his wrist, picks at the flaking raw skin there, and sighs. This will have to do. It is not perfect, but cozy enough.
“O - Okay,” Louis says to the closed bedroom door - Harry is waiting outside it until he has been given permission to enter. “You can come in now.”
Consent is given, so the door softly opens and Harry steps inside the room. He is greeted by Louis anxiously sitting within the valley of soft nesting items, fidgeting nervously. The alpha smiles widely, canine teeth flashing in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
“Oh Louis, this is a wonderful nest! So well constructed. It looks very warm.”
Louis blushes deeply at the praise. A tiny bit of slick seeps out between the cheeks of his bum. The anxiety he was feeling in his chest barely a moment ago has left. He reaches for Harry. Now that the alpha has seen his nest, Louis wants - no, NEEDS - the alpha in it and cuddling him immediately.
Harry goes easily, folding his massive body and entering the nest carefully in order to not disturb the items. He has barely sat down in the nest, and Louis is already knocking him off balance, gripping the hem of his teal medical scrub shirt and giving it a tug upwards.
“I - I want this shirt,” Louis admits, shy. He bites his bottom lip. “Please, can I have it?”
Letting out a throaty chuckle, Harry removes his medical scrub shirt without much debate and passes it to Louis. Louis doesn't even ogle the alpha's bare chest inches from him, attention too focused on the shirt being gently passed to him, looking at it like it is precious gold.
The fabric pools in his hands, and he brings it up to his nose and inhales deeply, unashamed.
“God, I love your scent,” Louis admits with an exhale. He huffs the shirt again, covering his whole face with it. He must look ridiculous.
“There is the real thing here too, ya know,” Harry teases, settling down in the nest to sleep. The sight of Harry lying in his nest almost makes Louis’ heart explode. “Much better than a shirt.”
Louis does not need to be told twice. He leans over and clicks off his lamp, bathing the room in muted darkness, aside from the sparse moonlight that streams in from the bedroom window. Not ready to part with the teal shirt yet, he sneakily tucks it into the structure of his nest, close to where he rests his head at night, almost right beside his pillow. If Harry notices him doing so, he does not comment on it.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he finally lies down in the nest to join the alpha, whose green eyes are so dazzling they make him feel dizzy.
This is the part in his routine where sleep evades him on a nightly basis. Once he is horizontal, all the previous exhaustion he suffers from throughout the day slips away, and he is left frustrated and overly tired, with little to no relief. It has been a constant cycle of exhaustion, no sleep, and repeat, for years now.
He hopes that the presence of Harry within his nest will help him break this cycle, but truthfully Louis has little faith in this “Prescription Pillow” baloney actually working. He snorts at the ridiculous concept of it all.
These feelings of doubt consume him until, out of nowhere, the warm arms of the alpha that lies beside him reach for his body from across the nest and ensnare him against a broad chest. Not expecting it, he lets out a surprised squeak. A strong arm wraps around his back shoulder blades, trapping him, pulling him further into the tight embrace. The alpha encases Louis in complete and utter warmth. Harry is like a massive, breathing furnace and within seconds Louis is so warm that he is on the precipice of starting to sweat.
They are now pressed so close together that Harry's chin is resting on top of Louis' head, and Louis can feel the movement of each breath as it happens. The alpha's chest rises and falls in a pattern that is almost hypnotizing. Sparse chest hairs in the valley between the alpha's pectoral muscles rub against the side of Louis’ face. The position they are in means that Louis is using Harry's big, naked chest as some sort of fleshy pillow. His face flushes at how intimate this all feels.
Louis tries to remember the last time he has been held like this, so tenderly and protectively. He has never felt so safe before. It almost steals a whine from his lips, and Louis can feel his bum growing damp with more slick. He hopes Harry cannot smell it. That would be very embarrassing.
A moment passes, and then, much like the slick earlier, Louis does something he has not done in years. He yawns.
His eyelids are heavy, but he fights their urge to close and submit. It is not until the whispered words of “Sleep love, you are safe,” tickle the top of his head, that Louis finally gives in. Darkness consumes him.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The next morning Louis blinks his eyes open slowly, the thin skin of his eyelids dry and crusty from disuse. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and in doing so, his elbow brushes against a note that rests in the middle of his nest. He picks it up, bringing the paper up to his nose, squinting his eyes to read the words left on it.
Have class this morning …. You purr while you sleep ….
XO
H A R R Y
He was purring?!?!??!!? How embarrassing!
Purring is an omega trait best saved for bonded mates and pups, an intimate sound of safety and …. Love. He brings his thumb up to his mouth and nibbles on his nail, cheeks warming at the implication of him purring so wantonly in Harry's arms.
After checking his phone, Louis stares at the time in shock. It is already 8:30 AM. He is unsure what time they went to bed, as he did not think to check, but Louis is sure he got at least a full seven hours of sleep. His body feels awake - no, alive - for the first time in over a year. The world looks a little less grey, and his breaths fill his lungs more fully.
Looking down at his arms, he notices that some of the rashes there have lightened in colour. He stares at them curiously, touching them with gentle fingers. No longer an inflamed dark red, they have a thin layer of light pink scarring beginning to heal the skin. The rashes are not healed completely but are in a much better state than they were last night.
Suddenly Louis twists around, fluffing the boundary of his nest, searching. Yanking on bedding, worn clothing, blankets, towels, pillows, and sweaters, Louis keeps searching through the hoard. His hands find what he is searching for before his brain even knows what he is using them to search for.
The soft fabric of Harry's medical shirt spills over his hands, and he brings the shirt up to his face, nuzzling it. The shirt brushes against his face, and he inhales. The scent of soft clean laundry tickles his nose. It does not even smell dirty. There is some benefit to having a scent that smells of clean laundry.
A purr rumbles out of his chest before he can hold it back. Louis presses the shirt against his neck, right against the scent gland there, where most alphas bite to bond. The feeling that washes over him is overwhelming.
Did Harry leave his shirt by accident, in a rush to attend his class, or did he WANT Louis to have it?
He quickly removes his old Metallica t-shirt and tosses it somewhere onto the floor of his bedroom, pulling on Harry's shirt instead. No matter if Harry left it on purpose or not, Louis has claimed it now. Harry will have to tear it out of his cold, dead hands.
After leaving his nest in small stages - by first getting vertical and then fighting the dizziness that comes with that sensation - he pads out into the apartment and lets Clifford outside, clipping the tie-out leash onto his collar. The bolted leash attached to the brick wall allows Clifford the ability to roam and do his business outside, a small section of grass for him to sniff and roll in just beyond the tiny slab concrete patio. Louis is lucky he found this ground-floor apartment, for Clifford's sake. The labradoodle happily trots outside and finds a place to lift his leg.
Once Clifford comes back inside, Louis pours a measured scoop of kibble into his empty dog dish. While Clifford eats eagerly, Louis begins to boil water in preparation for a cup of morning tea. He also makes a bowl of his usual breakfast, the cereal comfortable and something he knows won't hurt his stomach. The sugar-coated flakes soften thanks to the splash of milk he adds.
As he sits down to eat his small bowl of cereal, words the alpha said last night ring in his mind. The hushed words “eat” and “please” whisper and fizz there. Ignoring them proves pointless - they only get louder and more insistent - so he adds a yogurt cup to his breakfast, as well as a banana.
Standing at the counter, Louis uses the wet cloth and half-empty bottle of dish soap by the sink to wash the used dishes, warm water flowing out of the tap. He places the now clean bowl and spoon into the empty slotted drying rack there on the counter. As he drops the banana peel into his lidded composting bin, a small smile graces his face. He finally buys into the whole Prescription Pillow nonsense now.
Louis does not fail to realize the obvious - his morning has started more easily than all others have in the last year. Usually after tending to Clifford in the morning, he needs to rest on the couch, before even attempting to have breakfast. This morning, the transition to breakfast was easy, and he even had enough energy left over after eating to wash the bowl and spoon, instead of just leaving them in the sink to sour and wait.
If this is how good he feels after one cuddle session, he can only imagine the amount of improvement he will have in a few short months…
Maybe he can improve enough to return to work?
Maybe he can get his driver's license back?
Maybe he can go on dates, and find someone to bond with?
Maybe he can start a family of his own, even if his definition of the word is simply having an alpha to hold at night?
The possibilities are endless, and he has a handsome green-eyed alpha to thank for them appearing clear and strong through the fog of hopelessness.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It is currently their fourth cuddle session together, but instead of cuddling in his nest - like he is sure they are supposed to - they are relaxing on the couch, playing Louis' Nintendo Switch. Well, maybe relaxing is the wrong word - this silly video game is surprisingly very stressful.
Harry's tiny character rushes around in the animated kitchen fulfilling food orders on the multiplayer split screen, while Louis' character spins around in absolute blind panic. He is still getting used to the controls because he has barely played the device since he got it a few years ago.
“Press A! Press A!” Harry reminds Louis, body tense.
Which one is A again? Louis' thumbs click over the buttons on the controller slowly and finally his character starts moving with more control and purpose. He joins Harry in completing tickets and prepping vegetables.
“The soup orders! Louis! The soup!” Harry shouts, thumbs clicking frantically at the buttons on his controller over and over.
Louis notices in the far corner of the screen it says they are waiting on six orders of soup. Fuck.
His character scrambles to dice vegetables and deliver the six orders of soup, heart pounding. He can not let Harry down. Harry takes the score of this silly animated cooking game very seriously, and it is quite endearing.
They have been playing for almost an hour now, and Louis, though obviously struggling to keep up in the game, is surprised to admit it has been the most fun he has had in months.
A laugh of relief bubbles out of Louis' chest as he delivers the last soup on the order ticket, seconds before the timer runs out. The video game makes a sound that announces their victory and they see their score for this round flash across the screen - 3 stars!
“Yes!” Harry exclaims, celebratory. “Our first three stars, babe! Woo hoo!”
Louis blinks in shock. Did Harry - Did Harry just call him babe?
The living room is bathed in awkward silence for a moment. Based on the way the alpha's face reddens so much that even his neck becomes flushed, Harry must have realized his word choice.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to call you that. I - I just got caught up in the moment.”
Louis offers the alpha a soft smile in understanding, skin in the corner of his eyes crinkling with the action. “That's okay!”
The main menu of the video game cycles through on the television, waiting for them to pick a new level. The sound of the main menu is white noise, drowned out by the unsteady thump-thump of Louis' heart as it knocks and dances against his ribcage.
Louis wishes he could tell him the truth - that he liked hearing the affectionate nickname tumble out of his mouth, and that he wants Harry to call him other names too: boyfriend, omega, partner, mate. The list just keeps growing each time Harry comes over for a cuddle session.
“We - we should get ready for bed,” Harry suggests. When Louis nods in silent agreement, Harry moves to turn off the gaming console and then the TV.
There is a nagging thought in Louis' mind that playing video games together may have been inappropriate. Harry has been brought into his life to improve his insomnia, not to do … fun stuff with.
On the topic of curing his insomnia, tonight is only his fourth session and already there have been noticeable changes. Louis has been sleeping better, getting a steady seven or eight hours of sleep on nights when he is held in Harry's warm embrace. There have been a few nights the last week or so where Harry was not available, but on those nights Louis still managed to sleep about five hours.
While not perfect, the five hours of independent sleep is a vast improvement to the measly two or three hours of inadequate sleep he was getting before this program. His rashes are almost gone, and his eyes do not have a tired purple shadow under them anymore. Even though there have been improvements, Louis is not naive. He still takes his medication morning and night, and yesterday, while alone in his apartment, he had a minor regression. An omega drop had happened out of nowhere, with no clear trigger. Chronic illness can be lifelong, and a daily battle with small moments of progress, marred by setbacks that rattle your resolve.
No, there is no magic cure, but Louis has felt hope for the first time in years.
They fall into their bedtime routine easily. Harry deals with Clifford and his last potty break for the night, while Louis goes into the bathroom and takes his medications, then brushes his teeth.
Before taking the pills, he looks down at his palm to ensure his tiny hormone pill is there amongst all the others. Then he tosses the pills back, leaning down to slurp water from the running tap. Making sure his hormone pill is taken every night is so important. The last thing he needs to deal with is an unexpected heat. He has been particularly paranoid since the random slick incident the first night he met Harry. Luckily, it has not happened again since that first night.
After Louis is done brushing his teeth, they switch places. Harry enters the bathroom, holding his toothbrush and tube of toothpaste and a bulging cloth toiletry bag full of a multi-step skincare regime. His unruly chocolate curls are already held back by a pastel pink headband.
The alpha is an enigma - his scent of clean laundry unusual, his goal of being an OBGYN inspiring, and his expensive bottles of facial cleanser, toner, and the little tube of moisturizing eye cream endearing. Louis is the omega in their dynamic, yet he worked in sales before his medical leave, and his nightly skincare consists of splashing his face with water.
Secondary genders and their stereotypes be damned. The stubble that only grows thicker on Louis' jaw, since he keeps "forgetting to shave", is further proof of their shared disregard for rigid gender expectations.
The sound of the bathroom faucet turning on can be heard down the hall. Louis busies himself by selecting another band shirt from his endless supply to sleep in, this one The Snuts. He saw them in concert and bought this shirt that night at the merch stand. That concert is one of his last truly happy memories: standing in the pit section, a few rows back from the stage, and shouting his favourite lyrics.
The happy memory of the concert replays in his mind as he climbs into his nest. On the border of the nest, right by his pillow, is the medical shirt Harry left behind on the first night. Harry has not asked about the shirt, nor mentioned the fact he left it behind, so Louis has not bothered to mention it either. He fears if he mentions it first, Harry will ask for it back.
Although, he doubts Harry is oblivious to the whereabouts of the shirt. The bright teal colour sticks out amongst the assortment of more neutral coloured fabrics surrounding it. The border of the nest is grey, grey, tan, white, grey, white, and then teal.
Surely Harry has noticed it by now.
Leaning over towards it, Louis takes a sniff, then frowns. The shirt has lost a lot of Harry's scent over the last week or so. Now, when sniffed, it smells like a random shirt Louis could find at a store, with no memory or importance attached. While the faint sound of the bathroom faucet running floats down the hall, Louis sits in his nest and tries to come up with an elaborate scheme in order to get a new, fresh piece of worn clothing from the alpha.
The scheme vaguely becomes a plan that resembles stealing from the alpha's overnight bag when the alpha finally joins him, gently knocking on the door for permission to enter. The knock halts Louis' premature plans of committing thievery. Fantasies of stealing clothes from Harry's bag must wait.
“The Snuts, huh?” Harry gestures to Louis' choice of band shirt for the night once he enters. During their last session, Louis had worn a vintage Queen shirt. Like he said, he has an endless supply of them. It may be a bit of a problem.
“I saw them two years ago in Sheffield,” Harry comments, making conversation as he carefully joins Louis in his nest. It takes a moment for the information to process in Louis' brain.
“On November 28th?”
Harry nods, settling down into the mattress.
“No way. So did I!” Louis is shocked, disbelieving. “Where was your seat?”
“Seat?” Harry snorts. “I was in the pit, though the friend I went with gets nervous in crowded spaces, so we hung out on the fringe, by the sound booth. There was more room to move back there.”
Excitement takes over as Louis grabs Harry's bicep, fingers digging into the muscle. He gives him a shake. “I was in the pit too! A few rows from the stage!”
A look passes between them, and then Harry's face morphs, lips twitching with a poorly concealed smirk, his grin bordering on feral.
“Too bad we didn't meet that night. You would have gone home with more than a shirt. Maybe a hickey on your neck.”
Louis swallows, throat suddenly dry. He laughs, then swiftly clicks off the lamp in an attempt to hide his growing blush. He curls into Harry's safe and broad chest.
Once settled, he pokes Harry's pec muscle with a finger. “Maybe YOU would have left with a hickey,” he volleys back.
The chuckle that rumbles out of Harry's chest makes Louis smile, but he cannot help feeling melancholy. They were at the same concert - both in the pit section, no less. If only they had met at the concert. Maybe they would have left with more than just hickeys - maybe also a coffee date planned for the following weekend, or each other's phone numbers. They could have been bonded to each other by now.
Louis sighs, sagging into Harry's embrace, body deflating. It is no use thinking about things he no longer has control over, like a concert he attended two years ago.
The room grows quiet, and Louis allows himself, and all of his nagging doubts, to be held together by Harry. After the constant threat of falling apart, it is a welcome feeling.
“I have a question, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”
The topic change makes Louis stiffen, unsure of where this will go. Maybe Harry does not want to be his Prescription Pillow anymore and this is how he is broaching the topic. Can he be dumped by his Prescription Pillow? Oh God, the thought of losing Harry makes him feel nauseous.
“You obviously went to a concert a few years ago. During our last cuddle session, you mentioned you went to University, have a degree, and worked in sales. I know touch deprivation and insomnia can be triggered by a multitude of different stressors…. I guess I am curious about what happened?”
The question is a common one Louis encounters often. People cannot reconcile Louis' past life, with the one he is living now. Chronic illness does not discriminate. It does not care if you have a university degree hanging on your wall. If it was anyone else besides Harry bringing up this topic, Louis would have refused to answer, caved into himself, and maybe even dropped. It is a testament to how gently Harry asks the question, and how much Louis trusts the alpha, that he answers, though his voice wavers.
“About a week after the concert, on December 7th, my mother passed away.”
“Oh, Louis.” Harry attempts to provide some kind of sympathy, but Louis cuts him off. He barrels on. Now that he has started, he fears if he stops or pauses, he will splinter and fall apart.
“The insomnia was a slow onset. I was so busy dealing with the funeral arrangements and burdened with handling my mother's affairs, planning the funeral, closing bank accounts, transferring assets, and such, that I just ... forgot to sleep for a while. I was operating with about three hours of sleep a night. I was so stressed, bottling up my grief over losing her, planning to deal with it later... It wasn't until a few months had passed, after the initial shock of her passing went away, that I realized I couldn't sleep even if I WANTED to.”
He picks at his cuticle, and can feel his thumb getting sore as he tugs at the sensitive skin around the nail bed. It throbs as he picks and fidgets. His finger gets sticky and wet, and he can't see it in the dark, but he knows his thumb is bleeding now.
“It was hard for me to function with only a few hours of sleep a night. I was just sooo tired all the time, a permanent exhaustion over my soul on a daily basis no matter what I did. I took a leave from work. My sales numbers had dipped, so the leave was actually suggested by my supervisor. I began to shut myself off from friends. Then the touch deprivation symptoms came. I was stuck in my apartment most days, so I guess I was not getting enough endorphins or Vitamin D, and – well, my doctor also said when omegas lose a pack member, even if it is a mother and not necessarily a mate, it affects their hormones too. A few months after getting my diagnosis, I was matched with Clifford through an agency, and that made things a little better. He was a huge help.”
“I had no idea you lost your mum. That must have been so hard.” Harry hooks his chin over the top of Louis' head and rocks him gently.
Louis sniffs, the sound of it thick and repulsive since his nose is suddenly congested with snot, a precursor to the tears threatening to fill his eyes.
“And meeting you has been a big help too,” Louis admits, saliva tacky in his mouth from the wave of emotion filling his chest. He blinks his eyes a few times, then brushes his knuckle against one, spreading the lingering wetness gathering there. “I am glad Romelda told me about this program. I have been alone for two years, drowning in this chronic illness. I do not know how much longer I would have been able to suffer. I - I might have given up.”
A sharp intake of breath fills Harry's lungs, and Louis can feel Harry's arms tighten around him.
“Please don't say that. All that matters is that I am here now. And I am not going anywhere,” Harry says firmly. His voice is rough with simmering emotion as well. His fingers thread through Louis' caramel fringe, combing through the strands.
Louis nuzzles his face further into Harry's neck and takes a deep shuddering breath, a greedy gulp of laundry-scented air.
“I am glad you are not going anywhere. I would miss my apartment smelling like an open dryer vent.”
Harry chuckles, then uses his free hand - the one not busy combing through Louis' hair - to fluff his pillow into a better shape before lying back down.
Shockingly, the alpha yawns.
Harry's deep voice fills the small space between them, almost a whisper. “Sorry, these midterm finals are killing me… And honestly - well - when we don't have a session I don't sleep very well in my own bed anymore…”
Harry not sleeping well? That just won't do...
Louis wiggles in Harry's tight embrace until he breaks free, then rolls them both over so he is the one spooning the alpha instead. It takes some maneuvering since the alpha is larger than him, but eventually they fit together like a puzzle. An odd puzzle, but a puzzle nonetheless. The soft chocolate curls that fluff out at the back of Harry’s head tickle Louis' nose.
“Sleep,” Louis orders.
For a moment he worries that this is a step too far, but then Harry's tense back melts into his chest, shins and ankles tangling with his under the duvet.
“This is supposed to be my job,” Harry attempts to argue, but Louis can tell that he has no real desire to move, or he would have done so by now. Further proof is his voice, which is soft and tinged with fatigue.
That is how they eventually fall asleep: the omega who has insomnia holding the larger alpha as a little spoon. The omega even has a vivid dream that night, something that has not happened in over two years. It is the best, deepest sleep Louis has ever had in his life.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
A few weeks later, Louis is being spooned by the alpha on their – what is it, twelfth? – session. He is in a deep sleep, when suddenly he wakes, feeling fevered. He thinks nothing of it - sleeping next to Harry is like sleeping next to a living, breathing furnace. Sweat coats his body in a thin sheen. Still half-asleep, he rips off his shirt, tossing it somewhere onto the floor to deal with in the morning. He struggles to peel his pajama pants down. They stick to his sweaty skin, but he manages to kick them off in frustration. He uses his feet and toes to push them further down over his ankles. Once free of the pants, he leaves them tangled in a lump under the duvet. Now naked aside from his boxers, he falls back asleep, but the fever and burning skin persist through the rest of the night.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The first thing Louis registers in his sleep-addled brain is the thick scent of his slick perfuming the room.
The sugary sweet lemon scent makes Louis' eyes widen, waking him out of a dead sleep. It has been years since he smelt this sweet, this tangy, and he knows instantly that he has fallen into heat without any notice or warning. Suddenly, he is wide awake, and he looks around the bedroom in a panic.
No wonder he was feeling feverish last night… But the sudden heat makes no sense?! Louis has not had a heat in years, and he has been diligent about taking his hormone pill every night! This cannot be happening…
His inner thighs feel gross and tacky, slippery with slick, and he winces as a painful cramp twinges deep in his pelvis, further emphasizing that yes, this is happening.
Craning his neck, Louis takes a quick glance at his nightstand. His clock flashes 6:13 AM, and the morning sun is barely starting to lighten the grey shadowed room. This is the earliest Louis has woken in months.
The sensation of a warm breath fanning across his neck makes Louis turn back around, and in doing so, the tip of his nose almost collides with Harry's collarbone. They are pressed so close together, their proximity is dizzying. Have they always slept this close? Usually Harry is gone by the time Louis wakes. Louis' cheeks flame crimson. It might be his hormones but their closeness seems especially scandalous all of a sudden.
Harry is peacefully snoring, one arm hugging Louis tightly to his broad chest, oblivious to their concerning predicament and the panicking omega, but he probably won't be unaware for much longer. The alluring, sweet scent of Louis' heat will no doubt wake the alpha soon.
The heavy duvet that was draped over them both during the night while they slept is now clinging disgustingly to Louis' sweat-soaked skin. The feeling of it sticking to his wet skin is a sensory nightmare. He peels the dampened fabric away from himself, and once free, throws the majority of the duvet onto Harry's sleeping body instead. The cool air hitting his bare skin is a welcome relief, but barely. He uses the hand not currently caged against Harry's chest to brush the damp fringe out of his eyes, the caramel strands soaked to a darker shade of brown with sweat.
The main thing Louis remembers from his previous heats is that they were miserable, and lonely without an alpha to share them with, or to knot him. His seeping hole clenches, desperate for a knot to fill it. He looks at Harry's sleeping body a few inches away and whines.
Now that Louis has a fertile alpha within his nest, he panics at the thought of Harry leaving him empty and unknotted. The possibility of Harry leaving him begging and desperate is tragic, but Louis wouldn't blame him. They are not a mated pair - not even boyfriends! Not to mention the fact that a patient and healthcare provider mating together would be highly inappropriate, unethical, and surely a valid enough reason for Harry to be fired from the Pillow Program.
A stronger cramp than earlier seizes his pelvis again, and Louis clutches his stomach this time. His elbow knocks against Harry's jaw as he moves his left arm to do so. The whack of Louis' elbow grazing the alpha's jaw causes him to wake, green eyes blinking slowly. He releases his hold on the omega to rub his sore jaw, and sits up, duvet falling to gather in his lap.
“Lou? Are you okay? What's wro-” Harry cuts off. Louis can pinpoint the exact moment that Harry's brain fully wakes and he finally realizes what is happening. Louis watches as Harry's nostrils flare, no doubt inhaling the scent of his slick.
“Are you in heat?” Harry asks incredulously, eyes bugging out of his head in shock. This is not something either of them thought would happen, too reliant on Louis' hormone pill and his lack of consistent heats over the last two years.
“I am so sorry. I had no idea this would happen! It came out of nowhere!” Louis stammers, overwhelmed. He feels very lightheaded all of a sudden and worries that he may drop. It is a very real concern, one he uses to his advantage like a pawn in a game of chess.
“I - I may drop. Please stay and take care of me.”
It looks like Harry is considering his options, because he glances at the bedroom door and the overnight bag waiting there. Louis panics, bile gathering in the back of his throat. If Harry leaves, he feels like he will die. Dramatic? Maybe. He claws at Harry's bicep, fingers dimpling into the flesh because he refuses to let go, determined to keep the alpha in his nest. He is scared of the alpha leaving him when he is most vulnerable.
“Please don't leave me. Please stay, Harry. Please stay, Alpha.”
Tears gather in the corner of his eyes as he begs. Louis can only imagine how pathetic and desperate he looks, laid out in his nest in only his slick-stained boxers, sweaty, crying and begging for the alpha to stay. It doesn’t matter; any emotions of shame or embarrassment are absorbed by the overwhelming urge to convince Harry to knot him, to convince Harry to stay.
“Shhhh,” Harry soothes him, finally getting over his initial shock and focusing on the needy omega in front of him. His forehead creases in concern. “Of course I'll stay. If that is really what you want…”
Louis nods eagerly, his hole seeping more slick out between his ass cheeks. His boxers surely have a wet spot covering his crotch by now. “Please stay! Please knot me! Please, I want it. I want you…”
The air in the bedroom crackles with energy. Without breaking eye contact, Harry slowly lifts a large hand to cup Louis’ fevered cheek, fingers brushing lightly against his jaw. A shiver runs down Louis’ spine as Harry leans in, their lips mere inches apart.
Louis squirms under the heated gaze of the alpha above him, impatient and body tingling with need, but Harry's forehead creases in thought, certainly overthinking this.
“You want me?” Harry parrots back the words, timid.
“Yes, I want you! Even if I wasn't in heat right now I would want you. You make me feel so.... safe," Louis admits. "I know you will look after me. I trust you."
Finally aware he has an eager and consenting omega in heat, Harry jumps into action then, falling forward to crush their lips together with force. Morning breath be damned. The kiss is dirty, absolutely filthy, full of emotion and unspoken words. Harry's lips are soft and demanding, taking claim of Louis' without hesitation, now that he knows for certain that Louis truly wants this. It is almost like he was waiting for this exact moment, waiting for the dam to break. When Harry teases his tongue past the seam of his lips, Louis' world titters on its delicate axis. He moans, his body trembling with need.
They kiss each other, exploring each other's mouths, tongues dancing, while Harry tugs Louis’ soiled boxers over the curve of his ass and down his legs. His ass cheeks are damp and sticky, and Harry drags a few fingers down the length of his crack, prodding the area. The fingers enter Louis' hole easily, aided by the wetness gathering there. Harry scissors them, then his fingers retreat, now covered in slick, before pressing back in again, deeper this time.
“Fuck Lou, you're so wet.”
“Wet for you,” Louis pants, blushing. It is the truth.
The alpha chuckles at the words, two fingers working in and out of Louis’ hole with a steady rhythm now. Harry uses his thumb to rub along the sensitive rim of his hole, hooking it there to rub and tease, while the two fingers stroke deep inside.
The fingers feel nice but they are not enough. “Alpha, please, want your knot.”
"Are you sure?" Harry murmurs, his voice strained. His fingers continue their relentless assault on his wet hole. The words are left unsaid but Louis knows if he changed his mind, Harry would stop. He has been obtaining consent this whole time, which is a really quite attractive thing for an alpha to do. As sexy as consent is, Louis needs to get fucked and his patience is wearing thin.
"Harry, if you don't give me your cock right now, I swear, I will use my knotting dildo instead and make you watch," Louis threatens, words biting, his hips bucking involuntarily.
“Shit, Lou. Okay, I'll make you feel good.”
The alpha removes his slick-coated fingers, leaving Louis feeling hollow and empty. The threat of being forced to watch Louis take a silicone knot instead of his own makes Harry strip quickly, tearing off his clothes, tossing them somewhere into the nest. Louis barely gets a glimpse of Harry's hung cock as it is freed from the confines of his pants, but the girth he does see makes him moan. His slick-coated thighs splay open, and the alpha settles himself between them, slotting them together perfectly.
A pleasant rumble, a sound that's all satisfied alpha, fills the space between them as Harry's cock sinks into his waiting hole. A moment passes and then the alpha begins to fuck into Louis with a pace that is part leisurely and part maddening. No doubt it is an attempt to edge Louis, to deny him the experience of his much-needed orgasm until only he allows it. Louis whines pathetically and meets Harry's steady thrusts by raising his own hips, grinding upwards, his hole fluttering in desperation.
With each slow thrust of Harry fucking into him, Louis can't help but feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he never has before. The room is filled with the scent of their arousal, air heavy with raw emotion. When Harry presses a soft kiss to his scent gland, right where an alpha would bite to bond with him, tears prick his eyes, threatening to spill over. This feels less like a casual heat-induced fuck, and more like making love, their bodies moving together as if one soul.
After what feels like hours of slow thrusts, searing kisses, and Louis' patience being tested, their pace quickens, motivated by the one shared goal of chasing pleasure. As their speed increases, Louis' breathing becomes ragged, his back arches and their eyes lock. Harry’s green eyes are so dilated with lust that they are nearly black.
He is unsure what Harry sees when he looks at him, is sure he looks like an absolute wreck, but that is what does it for the alpha. Harry groans, and his cock jerks as they stare into each other's eyes. Louis can feel it inside him, pumping warm cum deep into his most intimate place. His knot swells, growing and stretching around Louis' hole. With each stuttered thrust of his hips, Harry's growing knot catches on his stretched rim more and more, until they are finally stuck together.
It is the delicious tug, and burn, of Harry's knot catching on his tight rim that sends Louis over the edge too. He topples into his own sudden orgasm with a high-pitched whine. His hard cock, which has been busy bobbing with the motion of each thrust, spurts out ribbons of white cum between them, smearing the sticky substance on his tummy. He blinks in shock, dazed. He has never come without his cock being touched before.
They cling to each other, panting, and the strange sound of bees buzzing fills Louis' brain. It is ridiculous, but he stupidly looks around the bedroom, expecting to see a hive somewhere, before realizing there are no bees. The sound is his own purring. He continues purring, could not stop it even if he tried to. Harry doesn't mention it, only gently holds Louis to his chest like a precious jewel and eases them down onto their sides. They cuddle there in the nest, and kiss each other, pet each other, and whisper words of comfort. At one point even Harry purrs too, his deeper vibrations synchronizing with Louis'.
Louis does not know how long they lie there together afterwards, but soon there are beams of bright sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Good thing today is a Saturday, or Harry would have missed his class. Harry presses a brief peck to Louis' lips, before easing his hips away. The withdrawal of Harry's now softened cock is jarring, followed by a gush of cum and slick leaving Louis’ fucked hole. The sensation makes him wrinkle his nose. They will have to lay down towels next time.
Suddenly, Harry moves to slip out of the nest, causing Louis to whine and rush to cling to the alpha's retreating naked body. The poor alpha almost gets knocked off balance. He turns and pets Louis, hands gentle, almost reverently touching his skin. The green eyes blinking down at him are tender and loving. The alpha's calm attention eases the omega’s increasing anxiety.
“It's okay, Lou. I am going to get your morning pills, and look after Clifford's breakfast and potty break.”
He gestures to the absolute mess of cum and slick covering Louis' thighs. There is a possessive spark in his eyes, clearly pleased with the sight of the omega stained with their combined drying fluids. “Though I like you messy and smelling like us, I should probably grab some wet flannels, too. Don't want your skin to get raw,” he smirks, and winks, his grin borderline feral. “I'll be right back. I promise.”
The knot Louis received has helped satiate his inner omega, for now. He knows that in a few hours he will be begging for another knot, but he is sure now that Harry will look after him. Louis allows him to depart this time, comforted by the thought, though he continues to pout. He watches the sight of the alpha's perky bum leaving his bedroom with greedy, half-hooded eyes. Fuck, he is so lucky.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Once Louis' overwhelming urge to mate had dissipated, and after they shared a much-needed shower where the alpha had washed every intimate crevice on his body and peppered his face with loving kisses, they obviously had a very serious talk. What they had done could come with serious consequences, especially for Harry's employment and Louis' health.
At the beginning of the talk Louis was anxious, picking at his cuticles, worried that Harry was going to suggest that he get a new cuddle partner. They had crossed a boundary - an ethical boundary - so surely Harry was going to leave him. He did not want to lose Harry. The thought of such a thing happening made him feel ill.
Luckily, they both agreed to keep this new development of their relationship private from the Pillow Program. They justified not disclosing the shared heat because Harry only had two months left before he started his residency, and the thought of Louis getting matched with a new, strange alpha made them both tense and jealous.
They both decided to continue their matched cuddle sessions, and then after the remaining two months, Harry would start his residency on the birthing ward. He would have to provide quitting notice to the program anyway. It seemed like a great plan, albeit one founded on deceit. But it would mean they could stay matched together, so that was all that mattered to them.
They even shyly shared their feelings for each other that day, ensuring that there was no confusion or miscommunication. Harry had coaxed Louis into his strong arms and had told him, with a blush colouring his cheeks, that he wanted to court the omega. The idea of Harry courting him had made Louis' pulse hammer in his chest, but he had said yes.
A few days ago they had gone on their first official date. Louis had slowly been improving his social tolerance over the last few months, but sitting in a busy coffee shop or attending a stimulating film would still have been too overwhelming. The relaxed ice cream date that Harry suggested was a perfect choice.
They had gone to the ice cream truck that was always parked by the local playground, then wandered along the paved trails there until they found an available bench by the river. As Clifford sat watching the ducks and swans float past on the river, they had eaten their melting cones and even shared a few sticky kisses afterwards. It had been a fun date, one that proved Harry cared deeply about, and considered, Louis' experience just as much as his own. Harry is so thoughtful - Louis knows his chronic illness is hard to accommodate, but Harry has taken it in stride.
After their first official date Louis couldn't deny that he wanted to experience more dates with the alpha, maybe even share a future that included pups and a bonding ceremony. Still, the courting, and these dreams he thought of when alone, wouldn't matter much if they weren't predetermined mates. Except that wasn't a concern anymore, according to his doctor today.
It is currently a week after Louis' heat, a few days after their first date, and he clutches the bloodwork results in his hands, nervous. He needs to tell Harry what his doctor said today, but he is worried it will scare the alpha away. All they have done is share a heat together, and a simple ice cream date. They have barely started courting, and suddenly the medical paper crinkled in his hands gives more weight to their newly budding relationship.
While Clifford snoozes in his dog bed a few feet away from the couch, Harry nuzzles his face into Louis' neck, urging him to take the leap with silent support and calming pheromones. Better now than never, Louis supposes.
“You know how after my heat surprised us, I decided to book an appointment with my doctor?”
“Course, Lou, what did he say?”
Reverting to the habit of what happens during his therapy sessions with Romelda, Louis decides to start with a rose. “Well, one good thing is he lowered the strength of my prescription sleeping pills from 20 mgs a night, to only 5 mgs a night, so whatever you are doing for my insomnia seems to be working.”
Harry holds him a little tighter, placing a peck against his temple. “I'm glad. You'll have me as a pillow for a long time, even after I quit to do my residency, so it is good I am actually helping you.”
Time for the thorn. Louis clears his throat, and passes the now-crinkled paperwork to Harry. The alpha takes it from him, confused.
“He said that meeting you triggered my heat to happen. He ordered some blood work, and the results showed a normal level of my nightly hormone pill, so I could not have missed a dose. But, I did have an elevated level of the CR-1 Protein, which is only found in omegas who have shared a heat with their soulmate...”
There is a brief silence while Harry processes this life-changing information, but all of Louis' nagging doubts of scaring the alpha away evaporate when the alpha tosses the paper to the floor, and gently cups his jaw. Harry looks down at him with nothing less than what could be described as unconditional love.
“I knew it was you. I had a feeling this whole time.”