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It's affecting them.

Both of them.

Sherry’s lip is trembling with the sheer effort it takes to swallow whatever pathetic noise is threatening to escape her because her irritated glands are itching even more now. She feels like crying out for Jake to just scent her—to cover her in safety and comfort her as he did before. It's all she’s been craving. Him. His scent. His body in her nest. She’d never been as comfortable as she had been that night and she worries she’ll never feel that sensation ever again, but he’s here. He’s right here. And he can give it to her.

Only if he wants to.

But Jake is just staring at her with such a vacant look in his blue eyes that Sherry can’t tell what he’s thinking which is scaring her because what if he regrets it all? Regrets letting her nest for him? Regrets scenting her? Before, all that clouded her mind was that senseless fear of confusion—her omega rearing its ugly head at the prospect of having him as a mate—and Sherry knows it's the same thing just… molting. Twisting and molding itself into something uglier.

What is happening?

“Come here.”

It's not really a command—there’s no force behind it—but Sherry’s resolve fractures at the sound of Jake’s raspy voice giving her permission to get close.

Because she’s starving for it.

She doesn’t lunge herself at him because she doesn’t have the energy, but it’s something close. A swift quick movement that ends up with her crossing the hall and landing in his arms. He catches her with ease, her body slotting against his, because he’s taken a step forward too—just enough that Sherry doesn’t end up tripping over her own feet in her haste. The hood of Jake’s sweater slips down, exposing ruffled blonde hair that disappears beneath the crook of Jake’s jaw. Her lithe arms wrap around his broad midsection before snaking underneath the fabric of his hoodie—he’s not even wearing a shirt underneath and her fingers touch taut skin pulled over muscles that ripple beneath her eagerness.

“I’m sorry,” she whines, burying her face in the warmth of his chest, because she needs. And needs. And needs. Jake seems to have frozen, hands hovering cautiously as Sherry ensnares him.

What a mess.

Jake finally lets his body relax enough, nose brushing the crown of her hair when he freezes again—going so still that it actually hurts Sherry because having him touch her feels so good. “Why do you smell like that?” He says roughly and it seems like any semblance of control evaporates into thin air as he tugs down Sherry’s hood even further. He doesn’t comment on the fact that the hoodie she’s wearing is actually his and she’s thankful for it because she’s too busy trying to hide the remorseful look on her face, tucking herself into his chest. Except Jake doesn’t let her hide despite her muffled noise of complaint, moving the fabric around her neck so the blocker patches on her glands are exposed. “I’m going to take these off, alright?” His voice hardens in a way that has Sherry shrinking but she gives him a little jerk of her head, nodding. He starts slow—carefully rolling back a corner, the touch is featherweight, but Sherry still tenses.

The patches have gone from itchy to burning within seconds.

And Jake must read her reaction or understand it because Sherry is shaking—her face pressed into his sweater—and promptly rips it away swiftly with a low apology, pressing his thumb against the exposed gland to soothe the ache.

Sherry feels dizzy the second her scent permeates the air because she shouldn’t be able to smell herself but she can. And it's not sweet. Not honeyed with content. It's raw and sour—putrid to her own nose—so she can only imagine how it smells to Jake. Her pheromones reek of distress, the confusion palpable in the air, because it shoots outwards then dissipates before shooting out again. Like a heartbeat. She hates it.

“Sherry.” Jake chokes out, the word catching in his throat. And maybe he’s dizzy too with it—she almost apologizes again—but Jake has already pulled her head back so he can pull off the patch on the other side of her neck. Completely unrestrained, her ache and need pumps through the air.

She wilts.

But Jake has already pulled her in close—he coaxes her into baring her neck which she does easily—and his arms circle her. One arm is braced around her back, the other around her neck, holding her up because Sherry is balancing herself on her tiptoes. His nose finds her neck and he works to soothe her irritated glands that stand angry and puffy yearning for attention. The alpha obliges her, scenting her in a way that’s a bit more mild than before but no less thorough. He’s very gentle in the way he presses their skin together, nosing at her with such attentiveness that Sherry feels emotional all over again.

Because it feels like coming home after being away for far too long.

She sags against him, a sweet languid purr erupting from her chest. That’s something she hasn’t done in a while. Or ever. She can’t even remember the last time she purred for someone outside of her childhood.

Sherry doesn’t mourn the feeling of Jake pulling away briefly to switch sides because the alpha makes sure to replace the soothing pressure on her gland with his thumb. He knows exactly how much force to put behind the lightest of touches to get her to melt as he brushes his cheek and jaw against her neck. He knows what she needs.

He’ll give her what she needs.

Sherry’s purr is a steady rhythm pressed into Jake’s skin. She feels… light. Floaty.

Everything that has been going wrong—that is wrong—none of it matters. It's such an earthshaking experience to simply let go of the stress that’s been plaguing her. She lays it all at Jake’s feet and lets him scent her with such caution and worry that she almost forgets what this is all even about.

“Super girl.” Jake murmurs into the crook of her neck, lips brushing her skin as he speaks. Her neck feels rubbed raw and oversensitive but his touch only tickles. Only makes her squirm—that makes his grip on her tighten—and it sends a thrill shooting up Sherry’s spine. She’s in a daze as she blinks up at him when Jake pulls away in order to give her some space. He doesn’t let her go too far. Never. But his breath fans her cheeks now and she can feel the heat of his forehead press against hers. “You’re going into pre-heat.”

“That’s not possible,” she whispers to him, eyes fluttering shut. All she smells is him—all she feels is his touch. It's better than confronting the confusion swirling in her gut. “I’m… I’m not due for another two months.” Sherry states but she sounds unsure about it. Heats and ruts decrease gradually with age—Sherry’s own comes every three months like clockwork. It’s far too early for her.

“Sherry,” Jake breathes slowly through his nose, “you’re going into pre-heat. I can smell it on you, but you also smell stressed out too.” He sets her back down so she can stand on her own two feet properly. Sherry tries not to scrunch up her face in discontent—it hardly works. “Did something happen at work?” He’s probing in a way that seems uncharacteristically soft, but she supposes Jake is always a little more… dialled back when he speaks with her. He always takes a few minutes to cool down like Sherry deserves the temperate version of him rather than the hothead.

“Stressed out because you left,” she murmurs, trying her best not to arch into his chest. There’s this insatiable feeling of wanting more, more, more. “I’m stressed out because everything feels… wrong. The scents. The apartment. My nest.” She tries to hate all the words that pour out of her but Jake has always been someone she could talk to—back then and now. They’re the only ones in this apartment—privvy to each other’s private lives—and now, they’ve seen each other at their lowest. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Sherry doesn’t know if Jake knows he’s even doing it consciously, but his hand is rubbing circles into the tensed muscles along the column of her neck, encouraging except Sherry feels like she’s already said too much. Revealed too much.

“The apartment is cold,” Jake notes, not taking his eyes off her for even a second, “it feels like you have all the windows open. Sherry, it doesn’t even smell like you in here.”

She sighs, wanting to look away—to hide and wallow in shame—but Jake doesn’t let her. His hands are firm, keeping her facing him, and it's then that Sherry notices the frown lines wrinkling the crease of his forehead. Not to mention the uncomfortable set of his jaw.

“It smells stale. Like you haven’t been here.” He presses on and Sherry just looks at him helplessly. “You’ve been working. Why would you do that? You can’t… “ He inhales sharply—through his mouth this time—Before he snaps it shut, lips pursed into a thin line. “You shouldn’t be out like this. Even through your blockers, I could—“ His face is pinched, screwed up in the way that lets Sherry know that he’s trying. Trying so hard to stay in control. To not lose his temper—or otherwise.

She knows the struggle but for half a second, she has the fleeting thought that Jake makes it look beautiful.

“I just needed to get out. It didn’t feel right.” Sherry stresses to Jake because there’s no other way around it—no other way to explain it. “I… we never scented before that night. Sometimes… it happens, I searched it up.” She wasn’t about to admit she asked Claire—even if their conversation was very vague. “You know, like imprinting?” She twists her hands in the fabric of his hoodie nervously, inadvertently pulling on it, but Jake is entirely too unphased; waiting patiently for her to elaborate. Sherry’s mouth runs dry. “And… I think that’s what happened. That I—I imprinted on you.” She says meekly, eyes wide. “But it’s not my fault. These things just happen, you know? I haven’t been with an alpha in years.” It's true. Her last relationship had been with a beta. And the one before that. Then, an alpha. Way, way back. “I’m just sorry. I’m sorry, Jake.”

She realizes how tight she’s holding onto him like she’s afraid he’ll let go, her grip slackens immediately, but Jake just holds her close.

“Don’t say sorry.” He says gruffly, blinking real slow. “Don’t apologize. It's… It's my fault, I should be the one saying sorry. I got hit with that damn inducer and brought it home to you. All these pheromones are messing with both of our systems.”

“I looked into it.” Sherry says immediately because she couldn’t help herself. She’d dug through traffic cameras, files, all documents she had clearance for. Nothing. “It was an isolated incident. I just didn’t realize your client was so high-profile.” Some pop star idol. An omega. Attractive too. He had that look going for him. She doesn’t even realize how her scent dampens until it's too late.

“Yeah?” He huffs out a small chuckle, the gruff sound tickling something sweet within Sherry. She wants him to keep looking at her like that. With that smile playing on his lips. “‘course you did. Couldn’t keep your nose out of it.”

“You’d do the same thing.” She retorts.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

There’s a beat—a brief pause—before Jake leans away carefully, pulling off his hoodie quickly. All Sherry sees is a flash of hardened muscles before Jake’s t-shirt falls into place and the alpha tugs at the hem of Sherry’s sweater, his own, urging her to take it off.

“Hey—“ She laments but she begrudgingly does pull it off her body, the scent long faded. They switch hoodies—Jake takes the old one and pulls the mess of scented fabric he’d been wearing over Sherry’s head. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Jake teases her in a quiet tone, settling the fabric around her. “Better?” He says, checking in. 

“Better.” Sherry nods. She buries her nose in the thick collar of the hoodie, inhaling deeply. It smells just like him with a faint hint of fragrance-free soap. They’ve disentangled themselves now; Sherry is satisfied with covering her head beneath the floppy hood that droops over her face so that his scent surrounds her.

“What do you want?” Jake asks, leaning back against the front door. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, staring down at her from the bridge of his nose.

Sherry doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t want anything to change, but she fears it already has.

“Are you sure I’m going into pre-heat?” She cringes because she has to come clean at some point and it might as well be now. “I double-dosed. With my suppressants.” The words are fast—too quick—but Jake catches them. Of course, he does.

His face twitches before darkening dangerously. He pushes himself off of the door, standing tall. “You what?”

“Suppressants suppress the symptoms. I wasn’t feeling like I was in pre-heat. I just—“ She says defensively. “I wasn’t feeling like myself, okay? We’ve always kept things separate. My instincts are just confused. It's safe to double-dose every once in a while, but it's not working this time. Clearly.”

“You’ve done this more than once?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.

“Are you purposely trying to miss the point of what I’m saying?” Sherry asks, exasperated.

“How often do you do this?”

“Is that relevant right now?”

“How often, Sherry?”

“When I get busy with work—if I get stressed and I know my heat is coming, I double the dose. Every once in a while. Not enough to delay the heat but enough to try and minimize the symptoms.” She bites out because she’s trying to enjoy the back and forth. It's not the smartest thing. She knows that, but Sherry prides herself in her work. She won’t let a heat stop her from protecting people—from saving people. “Its nothing you should be concerned about.”

Jake’s face is thunderous like a storm that can’t be weathered down. “Sherry. You can’t just mess with your hormone levels like that.” He states, dropping his voice low. “You saw what happened to me—and I got hit with an inducer. What do you think will happen if you take suppressants that dull your senses and instincts?” The vein in his neck is popping out now and his jaw is flexed so tightly that Sherry can hear him grinding his teeth together. “You’re at your most vulnerable right now. Your body is freaking the fuck out because you’re snuffing out all the things it uses to survive.”

And Sherry knows Jake doesn’t mean to be so harsh—knows that if anything, this is Jake being patient and being raw with her. Painstakingly honest and truthful. She still can’t hold back the slightest flinch that rocks her body and Jake immediately lets all the tension in his body deflate at the sight of it. He reaches out before thinking better of it, hands limp.

“Shit, I—“ He starts at a loss for words. His face is still pinched, but it's more disheartened than angry. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, Sherry.”

“It's fine.” It's an automatic response. Sherry can hardly string together a single coherent thought. There is static—white noise—then… Jake. “I’m fine. I don’t even know why I did that just now. You would never hurt me.”

The words settle between them however Jake doesn’t look convinced even as Sherry shoots him a fleeting smile.

They just stand there, taking each other in.

As if they need a reminder.