Chapter Text
Hale was sweating, probably from the heat but maybe something else in the air too. He’d worked up the nerve to go to this random party with Brandon and his friend was dragging him to find some random Alpha from their psych class. Brandon had led him to the fridge in the kitchen and vaguely introduced himself to the buzzed partygoers before pretending to grab drinks for someone. Hale could have sworn the bass in the frat? Sorority? House was shaking the walls but Brandon was pulling him along too quickly for him to check.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Brandon tugged at his sleeve, “I think they said Sherry was somewhere in the back, let’s check the pool,” Brandon turned around, “Here, just, drink this for now.”
He grabbed it. The can was open. Hale took a swig. It had clearly just been put into the fridge, because the drink itself was kind of lukewarm. There wasn’t much condensation on the can itself, but the humidity of the summer, or maybe it was just the fridge, had made it vaguely sticky. There was a sweet and sour aftertaste.
Brandon dragged him over to the side of the pool house. It was dim, and dark, and musty as all hell, but quieter.
“Call me if you need anything bro,” Brandon dug out a chair from nowhere and shoved it at Hale. “Look cool and you’ll be fine. I’m gonna be in the pool,” He pointed with his thumb at a trio of alpha chicks in the far end of the pool and smirked, “Don’t join me.”
Nursing his drink on the chair, Hale watched Brandon slip into the pool, flinch from the cold, and with three beers in hand, make his way over.
“Yo, not that I mind sharing spit,” He laughs,”but I think that might be mine,” A deep voice from behind startles Hale out of watching Brandon.
“What?” Hale turned and got a faceful of Alpha musk.
“I’m Ronnie, and I think that drink’s mine?” He taps at the red mark on the side of the can. Hale had just thought it was part of the packaging.
Hale craned his neck up to look at the newcomer. He was shirtless, water dripping from strands of his hair. The unfamiliar Alpha was smiling, and it wasn’t until an unfortunate drop of pool water got into Hale’s eye that he realized he was staring. He startled and rubbed at his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry—” Hale blurted out, some of his drink splashed onto his foot. But Ronnie was already moving past him, getting a towel and pulling a jacket off a tabletop a couple feet away. He toweled off his hair and pulled the same rickety plastic chair over to Hale, draping his swim jacket over his shoulders at the same time.
“No worries man, I’ll just trade you a new one.” He stands up, putting on the jacket for real and zipping it up halfway. “I’ll be right back man, just stay here.”
“No, no, I-” Hale goes to stand up before Ronnie puts a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Nah, really man, I insist, friend of a friend or whatever,” He pushes Hale back down onto the chair.
The chair is white and sloped, the kind where the seating angle was made for lounging to stare up at the stars instead of eye-to-eye conversation. Hale slides back into the chair, watching Ronnie amble back to the porch and into the house, his— no, Ronnie’s lukewarm drink still in hand. Hale has a pretty big build himself, filling up the chair easily, the back of his legs not even touching the seat as his heels rest atop the cement. His elbows rest awkwardly on top of the armrests, hanging slightly over the edges.
He raises his drink up for another sip before remembering again that it isn’t his. Brandon is still in the pool, his hair kind of fucked up from the back.
“Sorry for making you wait.”
Ronnie’s voice is low and cuts through Hale’s thoughts. There’s a smile on his face like he knows something and a dimple on his left cheek, or right cheek, Hale’s left, as he holds out a new drink to Hale.
“It’s no problem,” Hale waves off Ronnie’s apology sheepishly— he’s the one who should be apologizing anyways considering he was the one accidentally drinking from some stranger’s beer, “Thanks for the new can.”
Ronnie only shoots him another smile as he sits back down, and Hale feels his nerves settle a bit. He’s been on edge ever since Brandon has dragged him here, and he’s glad to finally feel like he’s finding his footing with Ronnie so accepting of his blunders.
The new can has condensation droplets already beading at its sides and Ronnie’s already popped it open. He hands the old beer out to Ronnie, who takes it off his hands.
“Cheers,” Ronnie holds out his can to Hale, and they clink their cans together.
Hale brings the can up his lips and takes a mouthful. It’s cold, refreshing, and burns on the way down his throat.
It’s weirdly dry and has a sweet aftertaste to it too. That’s probably normal, he remembers alcohol has a lot of calories or something. Probably has to do with how to make it? Well, he can chalk it up to this can coming straight out of the fridge instead of being left out for god knows how long Ronnie’s was.
“You come here with anyone?” Ronnie kind of glances around
“Yeah, my friend’s over there, Brandon, kind of blond? Yellow?” Hale gestures at the pool. “It’s dyed, like yellow 40 and everything.”
“Sick,” Ronnie’s eyes slide over to the pool, “You leaving with him or stayin’ the night?”
“Um, whatever works, probably leaving?” Hale glances at the pool, at Brandon with his gaggle of girls. “Or, yeah.” He takes another long drink of the beer.
A hand is touching his cheek before he registers that it’s Ronnie’s.
“You good man?” Ronnie kind of pinches his ear, and woah his hands are cold.
“Yeah, just feel kinda fuzzy” Hale laughs. He sees Brandon laugh too, probably in response to something one of the blonde alpha girls have said in the pool. Real blond, not the bathroom job that Hale has to help him with every two weeks.
“You’ve really never had a drink before huh?” Ronnie’s hand moves to the back of his neck and it feels really nice and really cool, “You’re kinda hot.”
“I’m hot?” It’s out of his mouth before he can think through that phrase.
“Yeah,” Ronnie’s nails kind of scrape his head before grabbing at the fried yellow hair that Hale’s been meaning to cut at the back of his head. His whole head tilts back at the contact. It feels tight and it makes his scalp tingle.
“I guess it–it is a bit warm,” Hale turns his head, glancing at Ronnie from the side. Ronnie lets go of his head and the skin he left feels like it heats up even more.
“Your tolerance low?”
“Dunno, never tried before.” And it’s getting hot sitting in that cramped chair so Hale makes to stand up.
“No worries, alcohol makes you warm, yeah?” Hale didn’t realize he’d said that last part aloud. “You’re so red.”
Hale’s touching his face again, his big palm cupping Hale’s cheek.
“I got you,” Ronnie hauls him by the arms, and wow it is even cooler against him. Probably the pool water. Hale turns his head to breathe in deeper before he realizes he probably shouldn’t. Ronnie notices the bid to get away from him and holds Hale’s face against his chest. “Relax,” he says, before leading Hale into the house.