Chapter Text
Being an omega hasn’t changed anything, Prompto thinks. He had been waiting for some unspeakable revelation, a shift in his entire world, an eos-shattering change. Yet he goes through school and work and everything else without much difference. No one gave him much more than a second glance, no one asked if he presented, no one so much as commented on his smell.
Life continues on as normal. He goes to school, he spends lunch with Noctis, he goes to work, drops by and visits Noctis if he’s around (with an Ignis hovering around more often than usual) or eats a simple dinner at home and does some studying. It’s all rather boring. He skimmed through the books Ignis gave him, though it was mostly what he already learned from biology class; went through the binder, which turned out to be his own health reports with notes from the Royal Healers. Other than his low hormone count and late presentation, he’s fine, health-wise.
Sure, he has to track his heats and use scent patches which itch rather badly and deal with all the smells everywhere– but it’s not too bad, especially considering that the school had installed new scent neutralizers which made life so much easier– So all things considered, things are good… right?
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Prompto being an omega has changed everything. Noctis is having an unspeakable revelation, his entire world has shifted, he is going through an eos-shattering change. All this is being processed discreetly, because first and foremost he is still Prompto’s best friend, and Prompto seems just as keen to make sure things remain the same between them. Holding on to normalcy as they know it.
Except now he has to watch Prompto’s back and glare down the alphas taking a sudden interest in Prompto. He sees the way they perk up when Prompto walks past, can tell when his fresh light scent registers in their alpha hindbrains, the lingering stares raking down Prompto’s body when they realize Prompto presented as an omega. Scent patches can only do so much– Prompto’s pheromones are not particularly strong, but the change was obvious enough that classmates who knew him prior to the presentation would be able to notice the shift. At least Noctis’ own alpha presence is enough of a deterrent to stop unwanted advances– no one would dare to cross another alpha so casually, let alone if said alpha is the Crown Prince. It’s the one time Noctis had been more than happy to throw his weight around.
The other distressing part of his whole world turning upside down is mostly because he’s suddenly painfully aware of how… close… they are. Which wasn’t a problem back when Prompto was a beta and they were best friends who shared food every day, spent every possible minute together, and were more or less joined at the hip. It was easier to not think of the implications when he shared his lunches with Prompto– because there were greens that he didn’t want to eat, that’s it, it’s not like he’s providing for Prompto or anything– or how something primal in him is soothed when Prompto is snuggling into his jacket and smelling like him– or how it pleased him to have bits and pieces of Prompto in his home, from the Prompto-sized pajamas in his drawers and the yellow toothbrush in the second bathroom to Prompto’s favourite cup in the pantry next to the granola cereal and his favourite flavour of sports drink in the fridge.
An alpha spending all his time with his beta best friend was fine. Encouraged, even. A true testament of friendship. The bro-est of bros. He didn’t have to look too closely at the way he enjoyed Prompto’s presence by his side, tucked away in those domestic moments. He didn’t have to tell himself that it’s fine, this is just how best friends are.
An alpha doing all that for his omega best friend was not fine, because now there’s a spotlight shining on all the hidden feelings and private thoughts he never should have been having about Prompto. The etiquette lessons he’s had all his life ingrained into him what was appropriate between alphas and omegas; what gestures were friendly, what gestures were not. What sort of behavior was respectable, and what was a showcase of uncouth primal urges. What sort of touch meant platonic friendship, and what was an interest to pursue further. The same actions, now between an alpha and an omega, become too loaded with assumptions and expectations– too conspicuous to avoid public gossip, too significant to be brushed off as just friendly gestures.
But it didn’t matter whether Prompto was his beta best friend or omega best friend. Because ultimately, Prompto is his. Secondary gender otherwise.
So Noctis doesn’t change anything. He shares his lunch and gives Prompto the salad. He drapes his jacket over Prompto when he’s cold. He holds Prompto’s hand when they cross the street. He buys him bubble tea before work. He waves Prompto off at the door and sends a car to pick him up after. Everything as it was.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
There’s an hour left to his shift at the store and Prompto has started to clean up for closing when the man stalks in. Mr Ciobanu had left earlier in the evening, trusting Prompto to handle things on his own like he always does.
“Hello! How can I help you?” Prompto puts on his customer service smile, even if he can tell this customer means to be difficult.
“My camera,” he tosses a beat-up Nikon on the counter. “How much?” He’s a heavy-set middle-aged man in a dirty sweater, the strong stink of cheap cigarettes following him. Prompto wrinkles his nose at the smell, then discreetly puts on a face mask to inspect the camera. A simple way to ensure the delicate parts in the camera doesn’t get contaminated or moisture from his breathing.
“Um, do you need it repaired? I’ll need to run a diagnostic-”
“No,” the man interrupts, turning his shifty eyes onto Prompto. “How much do you buy?”
“Er, we can do repairs and such but we don’t buy used cameras here-”
The man slams the counter with a fist, bumping the camera hard. It skitters across the counter and nearly falls, but the man barely spares it a glance.
“You think you’re too good to buy my camera?” he hisses, spittle flying from his mouth. “You think you’re too good for me?!”
Without warning, he shoots out his hand to grab Prompto’s arm roughly. Prompto cries out in shock at the grip, but the man is too strong, his fingers tightening around Prompto’s wrist. The man’s eyes are blown wide, nose flaring, smelling the air. He must have caught on to Prompto’s scent, blooming sharply in stress.
“Sir– let go please– you can’t–!”
“You’re telling me what I can or cannot do? All you omega bitches are the same, always thinking you’re too good for us. You think you can turn around and pretend to be victims when you’re out here seducing everyone with your virgin scent? You’re a whor*! We’re the alphas here, you bitches should know your place!”
His alpha scent is staggeringly aggressive, stronger than the cigarettes, bearing down on Prompto, who is still struggling to free his arm to no avail. Fear laces through Prompto; he’s alone, and for the first time he is truly, terrifyingly aware that he is a freshly presented omega in the face of an angry alpha. The scent is oppressive, making Prompto want to run away and vomit and cry, but he’s stuck.
“I don’t have any money!” he yells through sobs, pitifully pushing at the alpha’s shoulder. “The shop doesn’t have any money! We didn’t sell anything today! Let– me– go–!”
“You think it’s just about the money, don’t you? Omega whor*. Why do you have the mask? Too good to even smell me now?” The man is roaring, and even worse, trying to swipe at Prompto’s face, trying to snatch the thin fabric covering Prompto’s nose and mouth. It’s the cute yellow chocobo one that Noctis had bought for him, Prompto realizes, and the man’s breath is horrid, his fingers are dirty and they catch on Prompto’s face as he crushes the mask in his fist.
Prompto yells– he hasn’t stopped yelling, probably, but he doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore– and twists in the man’s grip. His free hand is fumbling around wildly. He catches the strap of the battered camera, and without a second thought, grabs it and brings it down hard on the man’s head with a resounding crack.
“You filthy–” The man curses and swipes at his face. He loosens his hold just a little more, giving Prompto the chance to twist out of his grip and propel himself backwards towards the staff room. Wildly, he grabs onto the lens spanner hanging on the wall and brandishes the pointy end of it towards the man.
“I’m calling the police!” he shouts, hating how his voice shakes.
The man curses again, spitting in Prompto’s direction, but thankfully decides to leave the shop instead. The bell tinkles, a sound too cheerful for what had just transpired. Prompto sinks down to the floor, the spanner falling out of his fist with a solemn thud. He’s shaking all over, his breath hitching between broken sobs. He reaches blindly for his phone– 8.12pm. The man had barely been in the shop for more than a few minutes.
He dials Noctis’ number without a second thought, trying to keep himself from spiraling into hysteria. It rings once, twice, thrice, and then Prompto starts getting worried that Noctis isn’t going to pick up–
“Prom? What’s wrong? Aren’t you at work?” Hearing Noctis’ voice sends a wave of relief over him, and a fresh wave of tears bubbling up his throat.
“Can you please come get me? Now?” His words come out in a rush, tripping over themselves. Prompto can hear his own voice tremble in distress, but his fear wins out the embarrassment.
“...On my way,” Noctis says. No questions asked.
Prompto mumbles a watery thank you, then takes a couple of deep breaths to pull himself together. He wipes away the fresh tears that spill down his face as he beelines towards the door, locks it, flips the sign to ‘CLOSED’, and gets started on cleaning up the mess.
Within 20 minutes, the usual sleek black car had pulled up in front of the store. Prompto only switches off the lights once he spots the car, then he unlocks the door, steps out, locks the door again, and pulls down the shutters. He power walks to the car, pulls open the door, and a hand reaches out to grab at his shirt–
He flinches, before realizing it’s Noctis, waiting for him in the backseat, but Noctis immediately notices his reaction and the undeniable distress seeping out of Prompto.
“Prompto, what happened?” Noctis’ eyes glow a little pink at the edges, visible in the dark. Outside, the street lights flicker.
Prompto thought he did a pretty good job holding it together. After the call, he had wiped away his tears, then tidied up the broken camera and set it aside. He wrote a quick note to Mr Ciobanu, detailing the events of the night. He even had time to wipe down the glass counter and spray a little air freshener before grabbing his bag and waiting for Noctis to arrive.
Then all of a sudden he’s enveloped in Noctis’ arms, held gently yet tightly, with just enough pressure to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel safe. His nose is buried into the nape of Noctis’ neck, the icy deep scent soothing him. All of sudden, his walls crumble around him and he’s sobbing again, shaking like a leaf in Noctis’ embrace, holding on tightly to his shirt.
Noctis’ scent spikes in alarm, but he doesn’t do anything except to gently draw circles in Prompto’s back until the uncontrollable sobbing slows into mild sniffles. They cling to each other in the backseat as the car speeds away.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Noctis is struggling hard to keep his own emotions in check when Prompto reeks of stress and fear– and worse still, the undeniable stink of another alpha, the remnants of intimidation clinging stubbornly onto Prompto.
His jaw aches with tension. He wanted to run through the streets and track down the other alpha– it wouldn’t be hard, not with his skills– but Prompto needs him here, and he doesn’t want to leave Prompto alone any longer. The Guards can deal with a dirty stray on their own. He has better things to do.
Noctis focuses on comforting Prompto, making sure his scent is gentle, rubbing slow circles on Prompto’s back. Prompto shifts slightly, then settles down more comfortably against Noctis. Is he– sleeping? Or dozing off? Prompto still has his face buried in Noctis’ neck, but his breathing has evened out, the pungent scent of fear dissipating. Noctis’ shirt is damp from the tears, but he finds that he couldn't care less.
The car pulls silently into the underground garage. Noctis bundles Prompto into his arms and lifts him gently out of the car, one arm under Prompto’s knees, the other across his back. Prompto shuffles closer, hugging Noctis across the shoulders, his breath tickling the nape of Noctis’ neck.
Noctis heads directly up to his penthouse, nudging the door open with his leg, careful to not jostle Prompto too much. He carries Prompto across the threshold and into his room, laying Prompto in the middle of his bed.
Prompto stirs awake, blinking blearily at Noctis. “...’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly after a pause. Noctis pauses in the middle of shaking off his jacket.
“How are you feeling, Prom?”
“...better.”
Noctis feeds Prompto small sips of water and takes the chance to get rid of Prompto’s tainted clothes, tossing it right out of the room. He grabs his casual house shirt from yesterday off the back of a chair and coaxes it over Prompto’s head. It falls over Prompto’s thin shoulders comfortably. Something about seeing Prompto in his own shirt, hanging loosely, on his bed… Noctis swallows and forces himself to focus. He pulls another duvet and a few more pillows from the closet, arranging them around Prompto.
There. Better. Prompto closes his eyes and snuggles back down into the bed, pulling the duvet over his nose. Noctis smiles briefly, the anger in his gut turning into a rumbling purr. His Prompto, finally back where he’s safe and properly taken care of. He cards through Prompto’s blonde locks, letting his purrs soothe the tension out of Prompto’s body.
After making sure Prompto is properly asleep, Noctis pulls out his phone. Gladio had sent him a text– the perpetrator has been found and arrested, and is currently being brought in for questioning. He had approached the shop with a stolen camera, wanting to sell it for some money. He was also on the brink of becoming feral after living on the streets for a couple years. Noctis didn’t care. It wasn’t an excuse for hurting his Prompto so badly. Watching the CCTV footage from the store only made him angrier; if he were in the same room as that perpetrator, he would–
The lights in the corridor pop loudly. Swallowing a curse, Noctis takes deep breaths to tamper down his anger. Prompto’s light scent calms him further– the other boy’s scent is now fully relaxed, smelling like sunshine again.
Noctis clicks out of the video and gives Gladio full reign over the issue. He doesn’t want to think about it, not when Prompto is safe and sound anyway. At the end of the day, that’s what matters the most. He tosses the phone onto the bedside table, strips quickly and peels off his scent patch, then takes a quick shower.
He has a leg through his pajama pants when Prompto starts to whimper lightly, his eyebrows scrunching up. His scent starts to sour with fear again. Noctis hurries into bed with Prompto, curling a protective arm around the blonde. Prompto seems to instinctively know where Noctis is, turning around to nuzzle into Noctis’ collarbone, breathing deeply. Immediately, Prompto relaxes, satisfied. Something deep in Noctis’ chest swells in contentment. His purring gets louder. Any louder and he’ll probably wake Prompto up, probably.
“...Thank you for coming,” Prompto whispers. So, Prompto wasn’t fully asleep.
Noctis pulls Prompto closer, squeezing him briefly. “I’ll always come when you call, silly. I’m here for you.”
He can feel Prompto smile against his skin. His scent turns sweeter, the floral notes seeping into the air.
“I always feel so safe with you,” Prompto continues quietly. “My saviour, Noct.”
Noctis watches as Prompto sinks back into sleep, the slight smile slipping into steady breathing. He can’t control the rumbling purr in his chest or the way his own scent spikes with emotion. “Yours,” he whispers back helplessly. “Always yours.”
He cards his hand through Prompto’s hair, brushing against the corner of Prompto’s scent patch, still there since the morning. He pauses, then decisively picks at a corner of it and peels it off. He tosses the patch somewhere off the bed, reveling in the way Prompto’s light scent immediately gets stronger and mingles with his own, breathing in the combined scent of them both. It’s perfect. It’s them.
It’s home.
