Work Text:
oscar
you awake?
charles
no
yes?
why?
oscar
SOS
Charles calls him immediately.
The early hours of the morning leave the sky still dark and starry. He gets stopped twice on the way to the convenience store by fans, who smell the scent through the shitty blocker he slapped on his neck before he left. They give him the sort of knowing glance only omegas seem to get when their alphas are in rut. Scanning their neck for love bites and their stance for discomfort. It makes Oscar's hand flex as he bites back the urge to clarify the situation—to insist that he and Carlos aren't quite like that, that their relationship works a little differently.
When he makes it inside the store, he realizes that he has no idea what Carlos would need. He panics for two or three minutes, walking from aisle to aisle pretending that he has an objective so as to look less out of place, and then he texts Charles.
It takes three rings, but Charles picks up, and he is immediately frantic, worried that Oscar is calling him so late at night.
Timidly, he explains there is no major issue and apologizes for waking Charles. Charles insists on helping him right before Oscar hears the tired grumble on the other side of the line, Charles apologizes softly, asking Oscar to give him a minute as he gets up to leave the room.
Charles asks him what is wrong, and Oscar gets it all out in one breath that Carlos is in rut and he doesn't know what to get for him because he's never helped an alpha with their rut before, and he is honestly freaking out a little bit, even though he has up until now retained composure.
Charles lets out a little giggle and then walks him through the whole shopping trip.
Oscar is holding up two different protein bar boxes that Charles recommended, trying to decide which one Carlos would like more, when it occurs to him: this is exactly the sort of thing people in love do. His next words come out with a stumble, and Charles has to ask him if everything is all right, so he shakes his head clear and tries to refocus.
It doesn't go away, though. Of course not.
He is thinking about it the whole walk home, having opted to buy both boxes and use trial and error. He doesn't get stopped on the way back. Someone sends him a familiar glance, but they seem to notice that he is deep in thought.
Carlos is still stinking up the place when he gets back, but the bedroom door is unlocked, and he is fast asleep, drenched with sweat. He stirs slightly, like he can sense Oscar's presence—the minuscule worry that kept bouncing around in Oscar's brain about loving him seems finally to vanish.
He doesn't much mind being in love with Carlos.
He lets out an amused huff, his lips upturning at that last thought.
Oscar is still holding the items he bought, so he heads for the kitchen. Charles told him the most important thing to remember is that Carlos needs to hydrate. He fills a glass with water. By the time he has returned, glass and both boxes of protein bars in hand, Carlos is pushing himself up a bit, rubbing at his eyes, and running a hand through his hair.
He looks at Oscar, silently, the blankets keeping him covered up. His pupils are dilated, wildly.
Oscar flits around the room, setting both boxes on the bedside table, before sitting in the chair. He holds out the glass of water, waiting for Carlos to take it.
Carlos stares at it, unmoving. Oscar bites down on the inside of his mouth, feeling a bit awkward. He swallows, his mouth a bit dry, and gives the glass a shake.
"Hydrate or die-drate." He starts the phrase at regular volume, but it falls off as he realizes how stupid he sounds. Carlos blinks at him twice and then takes the glass, tentatively sipping at it. Skeptically, he eyes the two boxes of protein bars. Oscar has opened both of them, so it is only the individual wrapping to get past. "Would you eat something for me?"
Carlos gnaws on his bottom lip before taking another sip of water.
"Please?"
He hesitates for a long while trying to decide between the two. Slowly, he reaches out toward one of the boxes. Oscar grabs a bar out for him and unwraps it, pressing it into his hands.
Carlos takes a small bite, his nose twitching as he pulls the bar back, shutting his mouth to chew.
The next bite Carlos takes, he blinks a few more times, so Oscar smiles at him encouragingly, not knowing how else to react.
Carlos takes a third larger bite, his brow twitches, and he makes a funny face and swallows with a gulp, and then Oscar realizes.
"You don't like either of these, do you?" he asks, flatly. Carlos shakes his head quickly, taking another larger bite, but he can't stop himself from wincing. "Carlos." He drags it out, barely hitting the r with his accent. "Why are you even eating it if you don't like it, darl?"
Carlos frowns.
"You went out of your way to get it," he mumbles.
Oscar's lips close, and then they part again, and then they close. Now that Carlos has said it, he feels silly even for asking. If Carlos had gone out to get him food during his heat, and it was all food he didn't like, he would make an effort to eat it too. It's for the same reason Oscar went out to get them for him in the first place —the reason he asked Carlos to stay instead of hiding away for his rut.
It's for the same reason that Oscar allowed Carlos to stay with him, curled up on top of him to cool down, the same reason Carlos had stupidly brought Oscar an ice cube.
Oscar's lips upturn.
He reaches out to take the bar from Carlos before he can force himself to take another painful bite.
"I still have trail mix," he says, softly, when Carlos hesitates to give it up. The trail mix that Oscar buys for himself that seems to run out quicker ever since Carlos found it in the pantry one day. The trail mix that Oscar specifically asked Carlos about, so he could know it wasn't some other creature sneaking around their pantry, causing the diminishing supply. The trail mix that Carlos had shaken his head and insisted he wasn't eating when Oscar asked.
Carlos, that dickhead trail mix stealing thief, perks up immediately.
Oscar lets out a quiet half laugh before standing up to get the trail mix and refill the glass of water.
"Oscar." Carlos always manages to annunciate both syllables of Oscar's name in a way that he once hated but grew to like. Oscar glances back at him, his head tilted ever so slightly. "I am okay now."
"What?"
"I will control myself," he rephrases his previous statement. "I'm not…" he searches for the right words. "It's not like normal. I just can't without you, but I can't with you, so I just won't. It's not—it's not an issue, I want you, more than any of that."
Oscar blinks, trying to understand what Carlos is saying. Carlos grins, watching the cogs turn. Oscar squints, still confused.
"I am liking it very much if you sit with me." He points to the bed. "Here." He clears his throat. "If you are comfortable." Oscar raises his eyebrows amusedly. "I will behave myself," he adds, quickly.
Oscar glances him up and down.
"Mmkay," he nods.
It's sort of a funny thought that goes through his head. He trusts Carlos—endlessly.
Oscar gnaws on the inside of his mouth as he grabs a bowl from the kitchen, takes the big bag of trail mix out of the pantry, and pours a good amount in.
Oscar likes it more than other brands because it has pistachios, but he's fairly certain Carlos keeps stealing it because it has little pieces of chocolate mixed in.
When he makes it back to the bedroom, Carlos has buried his face back into the covers entirely still apart from the rising and falling of his breath. Oscar sits down in the chair beside him again, placing the trail mix on the bedside table and then reaching out to gently run a few fingers over his exposed shoulder blade.
"Carlos," he murmurs. Carlos grumbles a bit, peeking up at him. "Just want you to eat a little." Carlos huffs, but reaches up to grab a handful of trail mix, shoving it into his mouth. He scrunches his nose at Oscar as he chews. It's the only sound in the room.
Oscar raises an eyebrow, but when Carlos goes to grab another handful, he stands, satisfied with himself. He spends a few moments lightly tidying up the room as Carlos eats, vaguely watching him, and then he slips his shirt over his head, dropping it on the edge of the bed.
Carlos darts up out of the bed just in time to catch the fresh pair of boxers that Oscar tosses in his direction. He slips them on.
"How do you want to—?"
Carlos points at the bed, ending Oscar's question halfway. Oscar shrugs.
He settles into the bed, lying on his back. Carlos's nose twitches, and then he climbs atop him, at first nosing at his scent gland a bit before relaxing with a big exhale.
Oscar is tense, only for a few moments, before he too lets it all out, and gazes up at the ceiling, brushing his fingers against Carlos's skin.
"I'm proud of you," Oscar mumbles, because it feels like a happy medium between saying the thing he really wants and saving that thing for when Carlos is right-minded enough to digest it. Carlos meets his gaze.
"It is ridiculous how much I want you right now," Carlos mutters, his eyes a little glassy. "Even though I know you would hate it."
Oscar strokes a few fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.
"I'm sorry." Carlos shifts a little bit, burying his nose into Oscar's collarbone. "'M not a good alpha. Should want what you want, should not think these things."
Oscar always gets sharp and irritated during his heat, but Carlos gets all soft and mopey. As it goes on, he is only further descending into a self-deprecating puddle of mush.
Oscar's lips are turned up because it is the fourth time he's heard something similar come out of Carlos's mouth within the hour, and he can't help but think it is adorable.
He has spent the time trying to come up with something that will assure Carlos of the opposite.
"Should be more like you."
"You're not like me, darl," Oscar mutters. Carlos is the heat of an oven. His every emotion for the next couple of hours is likely hanging on Oscar's words. "You can't help yourself right now, your biology is making you think like this."
But reasoning tends not to work well in combating hysterics, so Oscar opts for the alternative route.
"You're a perfect alpha." Carlos peeks up at him, bottom lip wobbling. "Not because you don't have thoughts like those, but because you do, because everything within you right now is telling you to act on them, but you won't. You'll keep fighting your pure instinct because you know I don't want it, and you respect how I feel. You're perfect because you know I can't give you that, and you haven't once questioned giving it up to be mine regardless."
Carlos is silent for a few seconds before his lips part.
"You think I'm perfect?"
Oscar lets out a little laugh. Leave it to Carlos to take that out of it.
"Yes, I think you're perfect, Carlos." The 'and I'm in love with you' part goes unsaid.
This time, when he says it, he sounds flatly amused and relatively uninspiring, but that always seems to be when Oscar is most honest. Either way, it is enough for Carlos, who grumbles a bit, happily, low in his throat, and then settles again, chin to Oscar's chest, his eyes lazily shutting.