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Eleven: Bad Ideas

Eleven: Bad Ideas

***

Wren left the coffee shop feeling like he'd been bowled over by the tornado named Beau. He was a wild one, for sure. After making his ridiculous suggestion on how to test if Vincent's pheromones triggered Wren's heat – a suggestion that Wren was trying hard not to think about – Beau had spent the rest of their visit firing off every thought about Wren that came into his head.

Your hair's so black, it looks almost blue. Is it natural or dyed?

And your eyes are such a light, delicate gray. So pretty. Do you have an alpha brother perchance?

Oh, you play baseball? Cool! Can you teach me?

You're twenty-eight?! But you look so young! No fair!

And that was basically what Wren heard for the next hour, politely ordering more and more coffee to avoid having to talk, even though he was starting to shake from the caffeine intake. Not that he had to talk much anyway. Beau was perfectly capable of keeping the conversation going with only the bare minimum involvement from Wren.

So now he was hopped up on caffeine, but mentally drained from social interaction. And despite that, Beau's really, really bad idea kept circling Wren's head like a drunk sparrow.

"Steal his clothes," he'd said. "A week before your next heat. You're really regular, right? If his pheromones really are affecting your cycle, then the scent will trigger your heat early, whether Vincent's in rut or not."

He was right, unfortunately. For really compatible alphas and omegas, just the scent of the other person could trigger an early heat or rut as long as you were reasonably close to your next cycle. Except that Beau's idea was incredibly difficult to put into practice, for a couple reasons. Number one, getting Vincent's clothes. Wren couldn't very well ask him for them without spontaneously combusting out of sheer embarrassment. And he couldn't steal them unless he broke into Vincent's house or knocked him out and stripped him, neither of which were viable options for obvious reasons.

He supposed it could work without clothes. All he would need to do is spend enough time in Vincent's presence to soak in his pheromones, but that led to a risk as well. If it worked, Wren would go into heat, leaving him at Vincent's mercy. Not that Wren thought Vincent would take advantage of him, but then again, he didn't really know Vincent, did he?

This plan was also predicated on the idea that Wren and Vincent would still be in contact by the time Wren's next heat came around in a couple months. Wren didn't want to be a pessimist, but he couldn't help but feel that Vincent would probably get bored with him sooner or later, no matter how much he claimed to like Wren now.

Wren walked back home slowly, lost in thought. People streamed around him on the sidewalk, running errands, getting lunch, chatting with friends. Most ignored him, but a few heads turned to watch him walk by. He was used to it. It wasn't because he was particularly eye catching, but because they got close enough to smell that he was an omega, despite how much his general appearance screamed alpha or beta.

The walk helped to calm some of the buzzing in Wren's veins from all the coffee, but he was still jittery. He wanted to go to the baseball field in the nearby park to work off some of the excess energy, but he had no one to play with. There was a facility with pitching machines across town, Wren knew, but he didn't feel like mechanically hitting a ball. He wanted to run.

And so, when Wren got home, he changed into a soft, light blue t-shirt and black sweatpants and then went out to run around the block. He was still exhausted and sore from his heat, but if he didn't exercise, he was going to keep thinking, and he really didn't want to think.

So he ran for more than an hour, until he was tired enough for his thoughts to settle. By the time he was done, the ends of his hair were plastered to his face with sweat, and there were sweat stains dampening his t-shirt. He felt better, but he wasn't going to be completely satisfied until he could get back on the field.

As he jogged back towards his apartment complex, Wren noticed a taxi parked by the front doors, but he ignored it. It wasn't an unusual sight. Most of his neighbors didn't have cars of their own, so there were usually taxis coming in and out on the daily.

However, as he approached the glass double doors leading into the lobby, Wren stopped. Vincent was there, leaning against the wall by the doors, seemingly deep in thought.

He looked a lot better than he did a few days ago, about to go into rut. He was wearing his usual black leather jacket with a fitted burgundy shirt underneath and black pants. His dark brown hair was neater, and he looked more well-rested, with a healthy glow to his skin. There was a half-finished cigarette dangling from his hand. At first, Wren thought he must be waiting for someone else who had called for a taxi, but then Vincent looked up and spotted Wren.

He immediately put out the cigarette, crushing it underfoot and pushing away from the wall. He walked up to Wren, who immediately remembered that he was reeking of sweat in ratty old workout clothes. Embarrassed, Wren hoped the wind was strong enough to reduce his scent.

Wren reminded himself that he didn't have any reason to be embarrassed. Vincent was the one who was here unannounced. And Wren had been exercising, so Vincent shouldn't expect Wren to smell like a field of flowers.

"I was waiting for you," Vincent said first, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Wren was confused. How did Vincent know he'd left his apartment in the first place?

Vincent seemed to read the question on his face. "I had something to do around here and saw you out running. I hope I'm not imposing."

Wren accepted that easily. He shook his head and surreptitiously wiped at the sweat on his forehead. "You're not. Is there...something you needed?"

Vincent paused at that, gaze landing around Wren's collarbone and staying there. Wren could feel a drop of sweat sliding down his neck to pool there, and flushed. Now that the sweat was cooling, Wren was starting to feel gross. He really wanted to shower.

Blinking hard, Vincent tore his gaze away to look back at Wren's face. "Yes, actually. This is probably a bad time, though. Can we talk later? Somewhere else?"

Wren hesitated. He should say no. Vincent was clearly having an effect on Wren's scent problem, so meeting him alone, even in public, for any extended period of time, was a bad idea. At least until he could get to the doctor to start back up on the medication that he had stopped needing years ago.

But Wren couldn't force the refusal out of his mouth. Maybe it was because Vincent looked particularly...stressed? Or maybe Wren was just curious about what Vincent wanted from him, because he had a feeling it didn't have anything to do with accepting Vincent's feelings. This was about something else.

Wren pursed his lips, but nodded. "Alright. When?"

Vincent let out a small breath in relief, shoulders relaxing. "Tomorrow? After you get out of work? I'll pick you up."

Wren nodded his assent and Vincent walked past him to get to his taxi, but he paused next to Wren, taking in a deep breath. Wren saw him smirk out of the corner of his eye and tensed, something hot writhing in his lower abdomen.

"I didn't think it was possible for sweat to smell good, but somehow, you make it sexy," he murmured, and then kept walking, getting into the taxi and starting it up. Wren stood there, frozen, until he had pulled out of the parking lot, taillights disappearing down the street when he turned a corner.

This was very, very bad.