Chapter Text
See the thing was, Eggsy wasn’t ashamed to be an Omega. He’d been born long, long after the Omega Renaissance in the 30’s, when historians and other researchers began finally admitting what everyone knew, that Alpha superiority was bullshit. Granted Alphas drew Betas to them, the basic form of human existence was an Alpha with Betas choosing to serve under the one who called to them. But Omegas were not drawn to Alphas, Alphas were drawn to them. Eggsy had even been born after the sexual revolution of the 60’s, which had removed a large portion of the onerous laws controlling Omega behaviour (the remainder dissipating over the next few decades), along with creating the suppressants that allowed Omegas to control their cycles. Nah, if he’d grown up in a healthy family, or a functional Household, he probably would’ve swaggered around and bragged to his friends after the change. He would’ve known that as one of the 5% of the world’s population born as Omegas, he would never have to worry about pulling any bloke or bird he wanted. He might’ve needed to chase them off instead.
But he didn’t have a happy home life. No… He had Dean. Dean and the arseholes who were his sworn Betas/goons. He had his Omega Mum, whose one bonded Alpha had died, leaving her incapable of ever creating a new bond. Fucking Dean, who smacked his Mum around for being an Omega he could stick his knot in, but never could create a Household with.
So when twelve year old Eggsy woke up in the middle of the night, with a roiling stomach and a sudden, overwhelming sensitivity in his sense of smell, he hadn’t been happy. He’d been pants-shittingly scared. All children got the lecture about how the onset symptoms of a secondary gender occurred. Alphas had an itch or ache in their groins (which always caused immature sniggers in the class) along with short tempers, while Omegas began to show by nausea and shifting in their bellies. The terror shot through him, all consuming. Dean couldn’t bond with his Mum, but there was no protection for him. Somehow he managed to get his thoughts together long enough to sneak out of his flat, and make it over to his friend Jamal’s place. Jamal, who’s mum was sister to their Household’s Chatelaine Omega.
Jamal had gone and gotten his aunt, who had been surprisingly calm and soothing, even being woken up at two in the morning by an almost hysterically incoherent Eggsy. She’d been the one to get him his first round of suppressants, even as she explained how his taking them was just postponing the problem. He’d have to take the pills everyday to put off the change. And if he forgot? Or went without for too long? Well, there were a couple of gossip stories every year involving Lord So-and-so or Mr. Who-the-fuck-cares son (or more rarely daughter) who had collapsed and gone into the change to become an Omega. Usually the scions of lords or businessmen who loudly bragged that they never would produce anything less than a Beta. They started their children on the drugs long before any change was detected, and as such the children passed for Betas, or if given the artificial scent boosters, passed as weak Alphas.
Unfortunately the suppressants only worked as long as you took them religiously. And if a person stopped taking them, they went through the pain of the change all at once. Instead of slowly having their bodies adjust over the years and months of normal adolescence, a suppressed Omega went through it in days. Hadiya had been firm with him, and far more blunt and detailed than the basic sex-ed the schools had given him so far. Information about how right at this moment was his only chance at this option, and it was only good once. She pounded the fact that if he came off the suppressants, his body would begin the change again, long before the drugs could take effect again, no stopping it a second time. She’d then verbally bludgeoned him with the fact that shortly after he went through the change, he’d have a heat that would pretty much be the equivalent of all the combined heats he’d skipped, trebled. So the longer he waited, the worse it would be.
Given how long it took her to cover what she considered the basics, it was fortunate that Dean had been dead drunk when Eggsy had begun his change. Dean had smacked him around a bit earlier that evening, as usual, before passing out which made him running off to a friend’s house nothing unusual, or even noticed. He learned from Hadiya, as he took an extra strong dose of the usual suppressants, until both the bruises from his most recent beating had faded, and his scent had flattened and dulled into the bland Beta smell. Eggsy had been annoyed to learn that his own sensitivity to scent had not gone away, and Hadiya had commiserated, that very sensitivity was why Omegas were able to recognize and soothe their Household, and keep the pissing matches between their Alphas to a minimum.
While discussing that, she’d given him the Omega’s view about Households, and how they fit in. How it was up to the Omega to accept or decline Alphas to form the Keep around them as Chatelaine. How the Keep could be anywhere from one to six alphas, though there were stories of more. The fact that the Chatelaine could be bonded to one or more of the Keep. Not to mention the unwritten rules governing the Betas and weaker Alphas who swore service to the Keep and Chatelaine, becoming the Inner and Outer Baileys of the Household, depending on the trust the Keep had for them. As well as the responsibilities a Chatelaine held for keeping the peace between everybody, and tending to their needs. Eggsy had known that Jamal’s mum was part of the Household, and that he’d only met some of the people attached to Hadiya, but he hadn’t realized that she actually had nearly forty people attached to her Household. Since she wasn’t one of the rich bastards with a country manor or anything, most of them lived in various flats nearby rather than with her.
With Hadiya’s teaching Eggsy he was never ashamed to be an Omega. He grew up with only Jamal and Jamal’s family knowing about it though. Jamal was a Beta, so he’d never given a shit about it, and since Hadiya had always hated Dean, she had formally banned any of her Household from talking about it. Eggsy was a bit of a smug fucker about it, hiding right under that arsehole’s nose. Hadiya’s Household kept him supplied with suppressants, so he never had to go to a doctor, or even register his secondary gender at all. Though Eggsy did develop a bit of paranoia, keeping the drugs with him at all times. He lifted a travelers anti-pickpocket belt that he stashed them in, and you’d think a store that sold such things would have a better anti-shoplifter setup. He didn't trust Dean not to search through his shit looking for something to sell to buy booze or drugs with.
Eggsy tried to join the Marines, planning on telling them about the suppressants and going through the change after boot camp, when he’d be solidly part of the military and there’d be no way Dean could come after him. But then his Mum had her breakdown, sobbing for him to come home before he died. She’d pulled every string she’d tied to his heart, and as much as it pained him to quit something that made him feel like he could make something of himself, he gone home instead. To his Mum’s relief, and Dean’s snide remarks and heavy fists.
He’d planned a couple of times to make a break of it, cut out and start his own life, but the one time he had solid plans his Mum had announced she was pregnant. Eggsy knew that an Omega becoming pregnant after a broken bond was rare. Also dangerous and risky for the carrier. So he had stuck close to home, drawing Dean’s wrath when it looked like he was targeting his Mum, distracting him. He’d had a shit ton more bruises, cuts, and sprains by the end of the nine months, but he’d also gotten to be the first person to hold his precious baby sister, given that his Mum was still recovering, and Dean was passed out in a gutter somewhere.
He’d known stealing Rottie’s car was a bad idea. He’d known doing a dozen or so donuts before getting into a car chase with the police wasn’t just a bad idea, but a fucking insane one. Still, it didn’t really sink in until he was face to face with a cop telling him he was going away for eighteen months until he realized how very much fucked he was. He was down to two very bad choices. Hide he was an Omega until the suppressant wore off in regular jail and get to be gang-raped by probably most of the population, or announce his Omega status, be sent to the separate jail and have Dean and his cronies waiting when he got out. He found himself fondling the medal he vaguely remembered getting from a man after Da died, as panic he hadn’t felt since he was twelve tried to choke him.
Having nothing to lose, he dialed the number on the back of the medal. He’d memorized it years ago, having worn the medal since shortly after he’d received it. He’d barely remembered the nonsense phrase, and he’d been both pissed and panicked when the woman’s voice had thanked him and hoped they hadn’t lost his patreonage. Because, what. The. Fuck.
And then the police were letting him go. No more questions, no veiled threats. Nothing. Just him walking out the door like he hadn’t just stolen a car and rammed it into the front of a copper’s squad car.
And then He’d had spoken. And Eggsy had stopped and caught a whiff of his scent. He had never been more grateful to be on suppressants than that moment. Because that scent was comparable to a rich dark chocolate and deep brandy after a fancy meal. Complex and smooth and rich, and if he’d been fully Omega he’d’ve ben panting like a bitch. He’d gotten so used to the harshness of Dean’s scent, something like the cheapest gin and something sour, or his goons, who’s scents melded together to make something musty and unpleasant that reminded Eggsy of locker rooms. This scent, from this Alpha, he wanted to roll in. He halfway wanted to offer a Householding to him after a few seconds of meeting, which was batshit insane.
Harry Hart, as he introduced himself, was an Alpha. Well, okay, all he told Eggsy was his name. But fucking Christ, Alpha was practically being blared out a loudspeaker from every part of his being. A blind, deaf, lousy-nosed Beta would recognize Harry Hart as an Alpha. Eggsy blamed the fact that he followed him on the sheer stupefied amazement of his manner combined with the oh-so-tantalizing scent. It was a struggle, a real life-or death struggle to stay cool and distant, especially in a closed in cab.
Hearing Harry list off his wasted possibilities and fuck-ups put his back up more than usual. Rationally he knew Harry would likely talk this way even if he were an Alpha, rather than the Beta he showed as. But it didn’t stop a voice in his head from hissing “this is why no one would want you as an Omega. why would anyone, especially one like that want you.” It hurt more than any of the shit Dean usually spewed at him, making him more defensive than normal.
And then Harry had beat the ever loving shit out of Rottie and the others in a glorious dance of violence. And Eggsy had been willing, right in that moment, to track down whoever it was who invented the suppressants and kiss their feet because those drugs were the only reason he wasn’t fully hard, with legs spread, begging. Letting Harry leave without clinging, even after being threatened with the loss of his memory, was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.