амега (peterick)

vingt et un.

"Are you still nervous?"

Patrick isn't working tonight, so he figured the club would be the easiest place for Allie to come and meet him. He isn't trying too hard to stay in his adult headspace, but he's decided to dress mature, covering himself up in a tee and jeans, and my leather jacket. I gave everyone else a heads up that his stripper-name-inspirer is popping in, so to refer to him by his actual name to avoid confusion. We'll still need to keep it on the quiet side, though; we don't need any other Alphas overhearing his real name, specifically the ones who watch him dance on a nightly basis. We don't want a repeat of the night we first met.

"Do I look nervous?" he questions.

"Yes," I certify. "No backing out now."

He raps his knuckles incessantly against the counter. "Can I have a drink?"

"Only because you're not working. Any requests in particular?"

"Anything with at least two shots of vodka in it."

Buzz smirks and gets to work. "Sex on the beach it is."

"Let's get that in a pitcher," I demand.

"You don't ask for much, do you?" Buzz says as he turns away from the bar.

Dallon rushes up to help his boyfriend gather the drinks needed to make the cocktail, namely the beverages on the top shelves that Buzz is too short to reach. I laugh to myself in thinking it's the only reason Buzz hired him, but the Alpha seems intent on distracting him as much as possible, subtly grinding his behind while he snatches each drink out of his hands to pour them himself. Buzz probably pays him with sex. Surely, the Beta must live off of his riches, much like Patrick lives off of mine. I've never heard of anyone needing to work a part time job on the sidelines to keep themselves from starving; the government is kind enough to provide working Betas of a managing status with cash to pay their employees. Alphas, on the other hand, are usually born receiving continuous inheritance from the older generations of their families. They'll end up working for the government or the military or something like that. Omegas will get by with their shitty jobs as nursery school teachers, or cleaners, or strippers... At least the pay is fair. Reasonably. Depends who you're working for.

Buzz completes the pitcher (even though Dallon made most of it) and places the three-pint monster in front of Patrick, who licks his lips impatiently as the Beta retrieves several empty glasses and paper straws from underneath the bar. Patrick is determined to grab it first, but Dallon beats him to the punch and pours himself a glass, and he does it really slowly, too, just to annoy the Omega even more. I have to agree, though, cocktails cannot be handled by amateurs, and require the utmost focus to ensure the colouring and flavours remain the same all the way through.

At last, he finishes pouring, but keeps his palm outstretched in Patrick's direction until the bottom of the pitcher is fully flat against its surface. I watch on with amusement as Patrick grabs the pitcher furiously. He sloshes the drink not so elegantly into his glass, scowling at Dallon, who sips and sighs with an eyebrow raised.

Patrick has the dignity to use a straw.

"Hey, Dal," I summon. "You seen Newcomer around recently?"

He swallows, hums, and shakes his head. "Not since you guys met. I assume he's found himself another Omega already, the man-slut. I'm sure we'll see him again, after he's ruined that relationship. And then the one after that, and the one after that..."

I'm already starting to twig where this discussion is headed, so I zone out.

Seconds later, a blaring female voice shrieks from behind us. "Patrick!" I quirk an eyebrow at the Omega in question. He starts to tear up, and chokes out an alleviated laugh. In spite of his previous anxieties, he's actually happy. "Honey, let me look at you!" He forces himself around in his chair, only to be barrelled into by a tall, blonde woman with fake lashes longer than her pointed, plastic fingernails (which are at least half an inch long each).

Patrick leans in to hug her tight, squeezing her like she's his only salvation. "Allie."

"I can't believe this!" After she's done squishing his cheeks into mush between her hands, she strokes his hair and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "You look as adorable as you did at fifteen," she gushes.

"So do you," he says, giving her a stunned once over. "I mean, you look good. Really good."

"Age treated me well," she beams. She sighs with exasperation as she sits herself down at Patrick's other side, eyeing the rest of us one by one, contemplatively. "Quite a few loverboys you have over here."

Patrick nods, first gesturing the two boys stood across the bar. "That's B and Dallon - they're together - and this," he says, smiling up at me as he rests his hand on top of my own. "Is my Alpha, Pete." We all nod in greeting, too humble to engage in any conversation. It's too formal and distressingly awkward. Fortunately for us, though, Allie is nosy.

She flutters her eyelashes at me as she murmurs into Patrick's ear. "Gorgeous was an understatement."

"Don't worry," Patrick assures, blushing crimson. "She's very gay,"

Buzz chuckles. "No wonder you get along. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Just water, please," Allie says.

"Just water?" Buzz echoes, disconcerted.

"Oh, I don't drink anymore. Especially not with a child on the way."

"Ah." He moves to the faucet to fix her a glass. "Congratulations. You're adopting, I presume?"

"Yes. Four year old boy. Lucas. He's got your chubby cheeks, Patrick," she says to the Omega. He rolls his eyes and gorges a mouthful of his cocktail. He's tensed up again at the mention of Allie's future son. I know he's still undecided about fathering children, but I hadn't expected him to be so adamant about the topic. "Don't worry, that's not the only reason we chose him," Allie jests as she redeems her water from Buzz. "He'll be officially ours by the end of next week."

Patrick doesn't contribute.

Reassuringly, the conversation soon turns to a subject much more uplifting, and despite his nerves, Allie isn't the tenacious, drunk woman Patrick remembers. He'd been right in assuming she'd be clingy, and she is, persistently so, but never once does he try to pry away from her. There's a few tears when she starts babbling about her cousins guinea pig dying, but the lack of alcohol going to her head makes her a lot more fun to talk to than overly humiliating.

After some time, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and the moment she's out of earshot, we all share a collective sigh of relief.

"Sorry about her," Patrick apologizes. "She likes people."

"Don't be," Buzz pipes in. "I thought she was lovely."

Buzz eyes the spot where Allie had just been seated, deliberately pestering Dallon, who gasps and slaps the Beta's backside presumptuously. "Hey. Eyes on me, please." He snaps his fingers, and Buzz indulges his wish, compensating the Alpha at once with a snog. "Don't be cheeky," Dallon mutters in between their kisses.

I purse my lips in disgust. "Yeah. I don't think anybody could be more embarrassing than those two."

Patrick just giggles.