⦿rheleea⦿

Part 7 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter Kidfic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 ...

Summary: Turns out just telling someone you are pack is not enough. Or: Dex tries to master the obscure art of parenting.

WC: 9k

crossposted on ao3

Living with Dex turned out to be quite unremarkable. After Dex made clear that there was no chance she was leaving, Ellie had been, despite her happiness of being chosen for once, slightly apprehensive of what living with Dex would entail. She had seen his agitation at the sight of her injuries, had felt his alpha’s rage and worry simmering under his tightly controlled mannerisms while he had tended to her. The limited experiences she had living with alphas in foster care had not been ‘great’, to put it kindly. Even if some weren’t directly aggressive towards her, most of them had very strict, controlling personalities: telling her what to wear, forbidding her from leaving the house or being friends with certain people, forbidding her from eating without permission, etc. While she knew Dex was different, she could not help but imagine if Dex, in the name of safety, would do something similar. Will she be able to leave the apartment by herself? Will he keep her confined or control what she does and where she goes?

Her fears had been unfounded. At least for the most part. Dex allowed – she internally huffed at that word – her daily visits to the library and the park. In fact, he had no objections to where she was going as long as she informed him of it. It had been a relief. Visiting the library had been such an integral part of her routines that the thought of losing that part of her daily structure had filled her with anxiety. The only limitation to her previous freedom he had imposed was the curfew.

When Dex had unceremoniously informed her that she had to be back before 9pm, Ellie had naturally reacted as every teen did: With indignant stubbornness. But no matter how passive-aggressive, no matter how pathetic she whined and keened, Dex did not budge. Wholly unimpressed by her attitude, he stoically repeated that if she was not home before nine, he would haul her back himself.

His casual use of home had effectively silenced her taunts before she could voice them. The word ‘home’ was a touchy subject for her. Ellie had not felt ‘at home’ since the blip, her new ‘homes’ violently different from what she was used to, forcing her to reevaluate the term’s meaning. Suddenly, attics or storerooms were her ‘home’, the term reduced to the sole meaning of ‘place she was currently staying at’. But the apartment did not feel that way. For once since the blip, she felt wholly safe, which should be ironic considering Dex was a notorious killer. But no. The apartment was not just ‘a place she slept at’. It was more. He made it more. Not that he had noticed.

Dex’s matter-of-fact use of the word thus filled her with warmth. Confirmation that she had indeed a home again. Proof that she was no longer alone. Evidence someone had chosen, had wanted her.

During all that time in foster care, she had never dared to even hope to feel that way again. And Dex manages it so easily, without even trying. By threatening to ground her, in fact.

At her silence, Dex looked at her funny, her lack of jab unusual, her sudden scent of happiness confusing him. But he did not comment.

Other than the curfew, not much had changed in their interactions. Unsurprisingly, the new designation of their relationship as ‘pack’ had not suddenly awakened deeply buried Disney-level parental skills within Dex. She was not even sure if he realized his new designation as her pack alpha technically meant he accepted to be her parent in some sort. Not that she would ever dare to address that particular elephant in the room, still secretly scared that he might ditch her if he realized how serious accepting someone as pack was. No, for now, he was her ‘guardian’, ‘trusted adult’, or apparently now ‘estranged brother of her dead mother’ according to the lacklustre cover story he had sold Mrs. Smithers.

No. Dex treated her the same as before, meaning oscillating between trying to rile her up and awkwardly taking her feelings seriously, with mixed results. He was far from perfect. But he was trying. He was there.

-----

It did not take long for her to realize that Dex had very clear routines. She had noticed Dex’s rigidity and wish for order already during their shared windows of lucidity when she stayed over before, but she quickly realized that these ‘quirks’ were only the tip of the iceberg.

Dex would rise the moment the bells of the old church across the street started ringing. He did not laze around in bed as most people do, but rather mechanically slipped from the covers without any hesitation, without lingering, a mannerism that almost caused a flabbergasted Ellie to reevaluate her conviction that the media’s use of psycho for Dex was a mean exaggeration. His following routine was just as rigid, reminding her eerily of that one guy in American Psycho, a movie she had definitely been too young to see with her foster siblings. He would do his stretches and workout, closing his eyes in concentration while cracking his knuckles, a habit which naturally prompted an age-related jab from Ellie. Later he would observe the people hurrying to the morning mass while he cooked. Flipping eggs or occasionally pancakes easily without even having to look at them. Every day the same. No deviation.

Living with him, Ellie was naturally integrated into the same routines. If she wanted it or not. While she had not been a slob during her time being on the streets, her day never started this structured. Or early. But the church bells were hard to ignore, the apartment not well insulated against sound. Also, she doubted Dex would have just let her stay in bed, his almost pedantic need to smooth down the blanket seemingly stronger than whatever pitiful keen she produced to convince him otherwise. One time he had gotten so fed up with her refusal to leave her warm nest and thereby messing up his internal timer for his routines that he had unceremoniously picked her and the many towels she had burrowed herself in up and deposited her on the couch. When she had finally managed to detangle herself from her messy cocoon to indignantly hiss at him, Dex was already smoothing down the comforter as if nothing had happened. After that, Ellie had voluntarily, but not without expressing her displeasure, started to rise at the same stupidly early hour and moodily vacated the bed to honour his precious routines, carefully putting her nesting stuff away for the day. While he did his calisthenics, she would set the table and then either read on the couch or observe his exercises with fascination. She would have cooked, but managing to set a pan on fire one time made her allegedly a safety hazard and got her banned from touching the stove. When Dex finally deemed his body enough tortured, she would shuffle after him into the kitchen to marvel at the almost freakishly perfect circles of his fried eggs. Because, of course, he would manage to even make his eggs submit to his strive for perfection!

-----

A week after their conversation, Ellie finally found the courage to venture out alone. After the attack, she had only left the apartment accompanied by Dex, trailing after him like a lost puppy while he bought groceries and glowered at everyone who glanced in Ellie’s direction. Other times she had timidly asked Dex to chaperone her to the library, where he usually stood silently behind her until she had selected a new book. She should probably have felt embarrassed or annoyed by his constant proximity, but if she was completely honest, Ellie was grateful. Her omega soaked up every scrap of affection and validation of their new arrangement as she could, purring in satisfaction at his protective behaviour, taking it as evidence that the alpha cared.

But Ellie knew it could not continue like this. Although Dex gave no indication her neediness annoyed him, Ellie could not help but be concerned this might change in the future.

When Ellie stiffly informed Dex that this time she would go to the library alone, desperate to prove to herself that she still was capable of it, Dex had, much to her surprise and her omega’s slight disappointment, not fought her over it. Instead, he had stared at her with his unreadable expression and then obnoxiously smeared his wrist over her forehead, coating her in the domineering scent of alpha, a clear warning to everyone to ‘back off’. She, of course, whined in disgust about the oily feeling on her skin, but she could not suppress the slight puff of happy pheromones escaping from her glands. Dex had just huffed and rolled his eyes, telling her to call if something came up.

At first, his indifference had disappointed her omega, immediately interpreting it as a lack of interest in her well-being. As the first signs of an upcoming rejection and her ultimate abandonment. Ellie had gripped the strings of her backpack tightly at that, trying to rationalize that the annoying smear on her forehead was evidence of the contrary. However, her emotions and instincts remained wholly unimpressed by her attempts at reasoning.

She had been awfully jumpy and tense on her way to the library. Which was ridiculous: It was the middle of the day, the way was familiar, she did not have to walk through sketchy alleys, and there were more than enough people around. But still, it was as if her previous sense of security, her confidence in her capabilities, had been eradicated, now primarily dependant to the presence of her alpha.

Ellie’s lip had started to wobble, tears of frustration welling in her eyes as she stiffly marched towards the library. When she arrived, she took a moment to inhale the library’s familiar scent of old books. The unique scent allowed her to momentarily relax, reminding her of all the times she had sought comfort in the rows of books. Trying to focus on the feeling, Ellie skimmed the rows and eventually settled on a book with a blue dragon on it that seemed interesting. However, whenever her thoughts trailed back to the fact that she had to go back outside and face the outdoors, she was filled with dread. She clutched her book tightly in her grasp, breathing in. And out.

It was getting ridiculous! Stiff as a board, Ellie shuffled towards the reception, her library card already ready at hand when she spotted a familiar jacket at the corner of her eye. She froze in her movements and immediately snapped her head to the side. However, she saw no one. Had that been-? No. It couldn’t have been, could it? She furrowed her brows, scanning the library carefully. Had that been Dex? She was pretty sure she had seen his dark jacket and cargo pants… If it were, Ellie was unsure what to think about him following her, contradictory emotions warring inside of her. Annoyance, that he seemed to doubt she was capable or tough enough to do it by herself, but also, deep down, happy, his presence evidence he cared.

She now was increasingly sure Dex had followed her. Despite trying to remain irritated at him following her, the knowledge that Dex was somewhere near her allowed her body to relax without her even noticing, the tension in her shoulders melting away, knowing her alpha was around to protect her.

Still mulling about how he could have vanished in such a short time, Ellie was suddenly hit by a childish thought. Eyes excited, Ellie put the book back where she had found it and, without a glance back, quickly made her way out to the door. The moment she was out, Ellie broke into a sprint, intent on being back before Dex, giddily imagining his exasperated expression if she locked him out. The route she took to the library was the most direct from their apartment. There was no way he would be back before her! Ellie shimmied through the crowd, her breath burning in her lungs, lips stretched in an excited smile. Occasionally she threw a look back, one time almost causing her to run into traffic. However, no matter how often she glanced back, she never saw the dark-dressed figure she’d seen at the library. But she did not let it discourage her, rather, its absence spurred her on, a clear sign she would win their one-sided contest.

She raced up the stairs, almost running over Mrs. Smithers, and scrambled to open the door … just to be met with a casually dressed Dex, cleaning his weapons with all the calm in the world.

At her dramatic entrance, the alpha raised an eyebrow at her, scanning her panting frame up and down with barely concealed amusement. Ellie snapped her head towards the clothing rack, where the dark jacket she swore she saw hung innocently in the same place it had been before. She gazed back at Dex, squinting at him suspiciously, but he had gone back to cleaning his utensils. At his nonchalant behaviour, Ellie became suddenly self-conscious, embarrassment curdling in her stomach at her childish behaviour. Her thought process was interrupted by Dex.

“Everything ok?”

“Wha- yeah. Everything's fine.” Ellie sullenly took off her jacket, a bit disappointed to not be able to prove that it was him. She sulkily walked to the bathroom to wash her hands when a familiar book cover caught her attention. She froze in her path, staring at the book, puzzled. It was the same library book she had examined before she was distracted by ‘Dex’s’ appearance. Finally connecting the dots, Ellie whipped her head towards him, utterly flabbergasted at the realization he had the time to borrow it AND be back before her without even breaking out in sweat. The alpha just shrugged, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 “You’ve forgotten it.”

Excited she went to pick it up when she heard Dex call her name behind her. Distracted, she threw a glance back at him-, just to be met with a greasy rag to the head, making her yelp in disgust.

Dex looked unimpressed.

“Don’t look back while running. It’s dangerous,” was all he said.

-----

While her teenage stubbornness kept her from fully admitting it to herself, realizing that Dex had followed her had not bothered her as much as it should. Rather, it proved to her that he cared, even if he had an unconventional way of showing it. Ellie never questioned his ‘quirks’. She would pretend not to notice the small, hard objects sewn into the hem of her clothing, or the various knives appearing in her pockets that she knew she did not place there. She would ignore the gun taped under the kitchen table, the large duffle bag under the bed, or the knives hidden behind the bed’s headboard. It was just Dex being Dex.

After he deemed her shoulder sufficiently healed, Dex also went back to training her, dragging her back to the sketchy neighbourhood almost every second day for two hours to continue where they left off.

The training was more structured than before. More serious. He provided her with a variety of different knives, not just his own perfectly balanced, aerodynamic throwing knives. More often than not he made her train with her own small knife as well as the kitchen utensils, wanting her to get used to different weights and balances. Ellie was grateful for it. She remembered how terrified she had been when her knife had uselessly sailed past her assailant, its weight and drag unfamiliar. She remembered the helplessness and desperation she had felt when the man was upon her and how easily he had overpowered her. So she never complained. Never sighed in annoyance at yet another repetition of the same movement she had been training for an hour. She never wanted to feel like that again.

It was clear that Dex shared the sentiment. Dex made her practice different angles, pain-strikingly explaining the physics behind the different kinds of throws and how to use them to her advantage. He taught her how to properly hold a knife in close combat, how to identify the vulnerable parts of the body, and which other sharp objects were nicely suited as projectiles.

While it was not his weapon of preference, Dex also showed her how to load and reload his gun, acknowledging that in a real fight a gun would be Ellie’s best bet to get out of the situation unharmed. He taught her how to properly hold it, making her switch the safety on and off, getting her used to pulling the trigger, even if it was just an empty barrel for now. 

Still, while distance was Ellie’s safest bet, Dex also insisted on teaching her some physical defence basics, explaining how to find the weak spots of the wrist and how to use them to force someone to let go. A substantial amount of that part of training was spent with Ellie dangling in a loose chokehold, flailing miserably while Dex patiently explained the different tactics she could use to escape even with her size. Dex seemed quite amused with her hesitation to kick him with all her might, a weakness that was immediately remedied after he teased her for it.

Ellie should probably be relieved that he had not bullied her into joining his calisthenics exercises in the morning.

But despite her improvements, Ellie could not help it and questioned if their training would even matter, seeing how overwhelmed she had been the last time.

“What if I freeze again?” She asked Dex quietly after a gruelling day of training, fidgeting nervously and staring at the ground. Her scent traitorously revealed her underlying anxiety. What if the training was for nothing? What if I fail again?

Dex lowered himself slightly to her eye level, forcing her to look at him.

“That’s what the training is for. Training is not only for becoming better at something, but also to get your body used to the movement, so that it becomes almost a reflex instead of conscious thinking. If it comes to it, you won’t have to even think about acting.” He explained matter-of-factly.

Ellie hesitantly nodded, trying to fight back her lingering uncertainty. Dex raised himself to his total height again, towering over her small frame, and grabbed her shoulders firmly.

“Also, the training is only for the worst-case scenario. As long as I can prevent it, you will not be forced to actually use it. Understood?”

Ellie nodded again, feeling a bit lighter. Her omega was internally purring in happiness at his outright promise to protect her.

“Good,” Dex stated. “Now repeat the movement.”

Fuelled by a new wave of determination, Ellie went back to the indicated spot, and they reconvened.

-----

Dex resumed his ‘nightly activities’ around the same time Ellie regained her courage to leave the apartment on her own again, which meant that Dex was mostly gone throughout the day and sometimes at night, coming back at odd hours. After having gotten used to his presence, his absence bothered her more than she dared to admit. She felt oddly lonely eating alone again, breakfast being the only guaranteed meal they spent together.

When Dex came back in the afternoon, he often stayed only for a short amount of time before he suited up and went out ‘hunting’. Ellie was still unsure why exactly Dex did what he did. She knew there was some sort of vendetta against the Fisks, but she was not completely sure what it was about. But she knew it was serious. The way his face would darken whenever their names were mentioned in the news, the way his features acquired a hardness she was unused to, eyes filled with wrathful promise, told her better than to ask.

It was strange seeing him in his Bullseye suit. The last time she had seen him wearing it was during their first meeting. So, when she came back one afternoon and found ‘Bullseye’ in their living room, she had been quite startled. While Dex was already imposing in his civilian clothes, he appeared somehow even larger in his suit. The strapped-on gun, the many sheathes for his knives, and his sturdy boots all together created a menacing ensemble.

But what had most unsettled her was the complete lack of scent on him. Dex must have applied strong scent patches on his glands and scrubbed himself raw with a scent-stripping soap, the textile of his suit probably covered by a special sealant which hinders pheromones from sticking. It was slightly disturbing, being able to see someone but without the familiar accompanying olfactory input. Dex seemed to pick up on her unease and paused in his movement.

Before he could ask, Ellie’s voice already filled the silent apartment: “You don’t have any scent on you…”. Dex seemed to relax at that.

“Helps with stealth.” He simply stated. Then, slightly quieter, he added, “Also, I don’t want anyone to smell an omega on me. Especially not a young one.”

“Oh.” She whispered, the implication hitting her fully.

Being with Dex might have saved her from the ‘normal’ danger of living on the streets, but it also opened a whole other can of worms. If Fisk found out about her, God knows what he would do. She forced herself not to think of that.

Her stomach clenched anxiously when she observed him climb out the fire escape, which she knew was stupid. Dex could handle himself. He had been doing this for a long time. Also, he was nearly - if not wholly - incapable of missing a target. He’ll be fine. He’ll come back.

Still, she worried, anxiously asking herself what she was supposed to do if he didn’t come back, or if he got hurt. That night, she lay curled up in her nest and clutched at the scented towels bearing his scent, desperately missing the calming presence of her ‘guardian’.

Dex usually returned late during these nights. Most of the time, Ellie had fallen into a fitful sleep until then, but her slumber was light. The first few times he had returned, sliding open the old, slightly creaky window, Ellie had been startled awake, instinctively gripping her knife at the sound of an intruder. Upon recognizing his familiar silhouette, Ellie relaxed gradually, lowering the knife slowly. Dex hummed in approval at her alertness, then quietly made his way to the bathroom to scrub off the night’s grime, sweat, and blood.

Dex and her had continued to co-sleep. The conversation about someone taking the couch never came up, both skirting around the topic. Their different sleep schedules made the arrangement thankfully a bit less awkward. Ellie was usually half asleep again when Dex finally slipped into the nest. Ellie could not help but feel relieved about still being allowed to sleep next to him. She always slept better when he was near her. It was as if her subconsciousness relaxed whenever Dex was nearby, as if it knew nothing could happen with him by her side.

Dex would still be quite wound up when he came back, his now patch-free scent glands revealing his heightened adrenaline. He would always rub his wrist slightly over her hair, scenting her, the action now a fixed ritual after his Bullseye excursions. She could feel how his powerful muscles slowly uncoiled, his lingering agitation melting away at the repetitive movement. His touch was always incredibly light, as if afraid he’d hurt her if he pressed too hard. His petting usually caused her to purr slightly, too tired to stop her hindbrain from taking over, softly kneading the towels of her nest in contentment.

If she was honest, those moments after he came back from being Bullseye were her favourite. It was as if the darkness gave him the courage to show his affection, as if his Bullseye persona allowed him to unwind a bit, to allow his instincts to guide his actions. As usual, they did not speak about these moments the next day.

-----

Dex never thought he would be willingly living together with someone, let alone some kid. He had always hated the shared rooms in the orphanage and had loathed the barracks at the military even more. It added so many unexpected variables to his routines, so many openings for others to disturb the structures that kept him sane. When he had gotten his first apartment, he finally had a space solely to himself. A space he could completely control, where his structures and rituals remained undisturbed. Absolute.

And now he introduced a child to his sanctuary. Introduced an unknown variable. Introduced chaos.

Having her over at his apartment during his rut did not count for him. It had been a necessity. His structures and routines were broken regardless of her presence or not, his very biology throwing a wrench into his rigidly controlled life. Ellie had been the solution. The means to take back control from the primitive part of his brain. A way to remind himself that he can control his designation. She was not supposed to be anything more. But again, his biology had to undermine all his carefully curated plans. He could no longer lie about not caring about her, about not needing the constant assurance that she was alright. He should have been angry. Furious that his biology had found another way to disturb, to manipulate his life. At the beginning, when he was solely stalking her and observing her from afar, he had been. His frustration about needing to change his routines to accommodate the incessant itch in his brain driving him mad. Now, however, he wasn’t angry about her invading his space. If he was honest with himself, it had been the inevitable conclusion since he realized he needed to see her. He was no longer angry. No longer sure if it had been solely his biology that craved her presence.

However, contrary to his unspoken fears, adding Ellie to his routine was not as chaotic as he had feared. To his surprise, she neatly integrated into his existing structures. She would rise with him, admittedly not really by her choice, hair adorably mussed and face grumpy. Later, she would try to help him with breakfast, hovering by his side and observing his movements. His routines were hardly disturbed by adding another person to it.

Over the weeks, his apartment increasingly bore witness to the new inhabitant. A second toothbrush now decorated the sink. Books lay haphazardly around the small flat, cluttering the coffee table no matter how often he aligned them into neat little towers. Random towels suddenly occupied his space. A small pair of shoes was neatly arranged next to his sturdy boots. Little signs of a life intertwined with his own. Things that reminded him that his sanctuary is not solely his anymore.

After several days of their new arrangement, Dex had noticed how Ellie’s scent was now a permanent feature of the apartment. Under his strong scent of pine and linen was a new, softer note, it’s milky scent of lavender permeating the air, mixing smoothly into his own. When Dex had realized the change, he was startled by the pleased rumble escaping his throat, his alpha content that the very air was witness to them being pack.

When he would drag himself back into the apartment after an active night out, her scent would greet him upon entering, its familiar note signalling his wound-up brain that he was home. A term which suddenly gained a whole new layer of meaning.

Her scent would immediately lower his residual adrenaline, triggering oxytocin instead. He would get the sudden urge to scent her, his alpha intent of reapplying his claim. Observing the slow rise and fall of her chest, her mouth slightly opened, her nose twitching adorably gave him a sense of serenity no drug could ever achieve. The fact that someone this innocent, this vulnerable, would sleep so deeply, so trustingly next to him after all the blood he had spilled some hours before, awed him.

What also changed was that Dex suddenly found himself with spare time. He had not realized how much time he had spent per week seeking Ellie out. To observe her. To talk to her or bring her takeout. With their new arrangement, this all fell away. Ellie was safe. Waiting at home, a well-stocked fridge at her disposal. Her well-being suddenly not a possibility but a fact.

Even with his introduced training regimen, his daily rhythm allowed him more time than before. Time that he could now invest in his crusade against the Fisks. The realization further validated his decision, the increase in effectiveness calming the rational parts of his mind, which still were sceptical of his decision to take her in.

However, sharing a space with another person typically introduced mess, putting his newfound calm to the test. He did not mean that Ellie was a messy person - she cleaned up after herself and tried to help with cleaning - but unfortunately, Ellie and he had some quite different definitions of what messy meant. For her, cleaning up the blankets meant folding them into vaguely rectangular bundles and throwing them on top of each other, a far cry from Dex’s perfectly folded, neat little blanket towers. Folding clothes was even worse, Dex seeing every little crease as a personal affront.

Also, her hair was everywhere. No matter how often he cleaned her hairbrush, Ellie’s hair became almost a permanent feature of his floor, the couch, or even his clothes. He hated it, leading to his vacuuming becoming almost a daily occurrence. And the hair ties… they were everywhere. Under the bed, hidden under the bathroom sink, fallen behind the bedside table, he even once found one in the pocket of his jacket. How many hair ties did that girl possess?

But the most maddening disruption of his controlled environment had been the sleeping arrangements. Because Dex did not want to sleep on the couch and did not want to force Ellie to do so either, he never mentioned the topic, leading to them continuing to co-sleep even after Ellie had regained enough courage to go outside on her own. She was tiny anyway, so what harm could her presence do?

A lot, apparently. Unfortunately, Dex had been faced by a problem he had not anticipated: Ellie was a restless sleeper. When Dex eventually slipped into bed, or rather ‘their nest’, shoving Ellie’s assortment of towels and shirts back to her side, it did not take long before her body slowly gravitated towards him. Her scented towels seemingly forgotten, Ellie would instinctively scoot closer to Dex in her sleep. At first, he had found it cute. Endearing. That notion changed quickly, as she just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Moving.

Now unimpeded by her injuries, she kept tossing and turning, constantly readjusting in her sleep, burrowing even closer until she lay half on top of him, as if she identified him as part of her nest, treating him like a glorified scented pillow. She seemed incapable of respecting the invisible border drawn in the middle of the bed, and no matter how often he carefully pushed her back to her side, it would not take ten minutes before she would roll back again. One time she ended up sprawled horizontally across Dex without waking up. Dex would have been impressed if it did not drive him crazy.

Dex was a light sleeper, a character trait essential to his ‘activities’, so even the slightest movement near him would force him awake. After two weeks of trying to stoically ignore her flailing, he was at a breaking point. She had rolled over and was, for now, nestled against his right arm, but Dex knew, by experience unfortunately, that this position would not long be the case. And he was correct. Only ten minutes later, Ellie adjusted in her sleep, burrowing even closer, her upper body now sprawled half on top of him. Instead of pushing her back to her side or stoically ignoring her squirming, this time, Dex unceremoniously dragged her fully onto him with an annoyed huff and hugged her form tightly to his chest, as he had done during his ruts. The only reaction he received had been the slight furrowing of her brow, until she gradually relaxed and softly pressed her nose closer, inhaling his scent. Dex absentmindedly rubbed circles with his thumbs, still feeling her trying to squirm away but unable to, her sleepy strength no match for him. After a while, even those attempts ceased, and she lay on top of him like the world’s most annoying weighted blanket. With a tired sigh of relief, Dex pulled her closer, breathing in the slight lavender note right at the source and finally benefited from an undisturbed sleep.

Of course, when Ellie awoke and found herself in a tight embrace, she could not resist teasing him, calling him a closeted cuddler. With a roll of his eyes, Dex smoothly adjusted his hold into a loose headlock, pointedly ignoring her protestations. Voice hoarse with sleep, Dex grumpily informed her how that would also be a viable option. One that tempted him greatly, he added, mumbling into her dishevelled hair. Ellie answered with a half-hearted bite to his biceps, an action that caused Dex to minutely tighten his hold, huffing smugly at her undignified squeak and indignant swatting.

However, since then, their hugging – no –, Dex’s restraining became a natural part of their routine. A necessary action to protect his peace. That his alpha finally had a perfect excuse to scent her was just an additional bonus.

-----

Their first real confrontation, save her half-hearted hissy fit about the curfew, happened after almost a month of their cohabitation. For once, Dex had been back before Ellie, busy researching on his laptop at the kitchen counter. The moment Ellie had opened the door, Dex knew something was wrong. At his sight, a puff of anxiety escaped her glands, and she awkwardly angled her body sideways, hiding her left arm from his sight. If it weren’t concerning, Dex would have probably rolled his eyes at her poor attempt at secrecy.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” he immediately questioned.

“Hello to you too.” With a dramatic sigh, Ellie closed the door behind her, still hiding her arm from view.

Dex narrowed his eyes at her tone. He then rose to his impressive height, slowly stalking towards Ellie, who stood her ground for now, jutting out her jaw stubbornly.

Dex loomed over her, his alpha irked at her snarky behaviour. He said nothing, just stared down at her in silence, not breaking eye contact. Under his intense scrutiny, Ellie folded quickly, ducking her head and instinctively baring her throat in submission. Then, she slowly raised her arm for him to examine. Dex growled at the sight of a hand-shaped bruise encircling her wrist.

“What happened?” He asked as calmly as he could, while he gingerly prodded her wrist. Ellie winced. Sprained. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he stalked to the fridge, taking out an ice pack from the small freezer.

“Put it on it.” He brusquely ordered her, observing how she carefully applied it to the swelling.

“What happened?”

“It was just a stupid mistake,” Ellie muttered. Dex kept himself from rolling his eyes. Why was it so hard to get a straight answer out of her? Was that a teen thing?

“Not what I asked.”

“The guy I pickpocketed was not as distracted as I thought. That’s all. He let go when I kicked his shin.” Ellie explained, as if that was a completely normal incident.

At her explanation, Dex paused, caught by the word ‘pickpocketed’. Why did she still do that?

He hummed noncommittally, trying to keep his cool, while his alpha internally spiralled at the revelation, racking his brain for why on earth she still found it necessary to continue stealing. Was he not her provider?

Ellie studied his expression carefully, uncertainty colouring her scent.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

For a moment he said nothing. He breathed in. And out.

“Why are you still stealing?” his voice was measured, still attempting to reel his anger in.

Ellie looked quite taken aback at that question.

“That’s why you’re mad?” Her incredulity clear.

“I’m mad because you got yourself hurt.” He stated resolutely. Then, a bit softer: “You should not go around stealing anymore.”

“But you never had a problem with me stealing before. You even gave me tips, remember?”

“And look how well that worked out?” he snapped. At her hurt expression, he backtracked slightly.

“I don’t understand why you still steal. If you need something, you come to me. I told you: you’re my responsibility.”

“Yeah, for things I need.” Ellie’s voice became higher the more emotional she became, clearly overwhelmed by the conflict.

A heavy silence followed her statement. Dex furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean by that?”

Ellie fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. Her gaze was fixed on a point right next to his shoulder, not daring to make eye contact.

“I- I wanted to buy a book for myself.”

Dex had to keep himself from snapping. That’s why you got hurt? For a book? He breathed in. Out. Trying to remind himself that anger will get him nowhere.

“Why did you not ask me?”

“Because it’s an unnecessary purchase.”

“Unnecessary?”

“I don’t need a book. I can borrow it from the library.” Her voice became increasingly quieter, more fragile, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “It’s just. I wanted to own it for myself. Something that’s mine. Like the book you got me.”

Realization bloomed in his head. Dex had noticed that Ellie had a problem asking for things, needing clear permission. The first time he had noticed it was when she had been apprehensive to serve herself from his fridge while he was gone, a revelation that had irked him greatly, the thought that she went hungry while under his care unacceptable. He had forced himself to leave passive-aggressive notes, not trusting his alpha not to escalate the argument, upset that she doubted his promise to provide. At least that issue had resolved itself quickly. Or so he’d thought. Now when he thought about it again, Dex realized she had never asked him for anything. No specific food items. No clothes. No ‘feminine’ shower gel or even blankets. Just accepting what was available without complaint.

He furrowed his brow, realizing that right now Ellie’s personal property is limited to the book he had gifted her, her spare, old clothes mixed with some shirts of his own, and various trinkets. Even the blankets and towels part of her small nest were probably his by her perspective, their ownership never properly discussed.

Dex sighed tiredly.

“When I said you’re part of my pack, I did not mean providing you with the bare minimum. All these ‘unnecessary’ things are part of the deal.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’. You ask me, or we can figure something out. But don’t go put yourself in risky situations just for that.”

While her scent had lost most of its intensity, Ellie still seemed apprehensive.

“What?” his voice was slightly frustrated, his alpha seemingly annoyed at her continued resistance to accept his role as her provider.

“But I’m not contributing.” She whispered, again avoiding his eyes.

Dex suppressed a sigh at the sight of her insecurity. It was partially correct if one solely looked at the chores done around the apartment. After she had moved in with him, Dex had indeed taken over most of her ‘responsibilities’. For him, it was a logical step. He had to do laundry anyway, so adding her clothes to it was hardly a big deal. Because of his need for control and high standard of cleanliness, he was the primary cleaner of the apartment. It was just easier like that. He was the one getting groceries. He was the one who cooked or ordered takeout. He didn’t mind, the chores part of his usual routine anyway.

It now dawned on him that her insistence to try to cook might not have been some desire for independence but an attempt to ‘contribute’. To be useful. To not be a burden. Rationally, he could understand her hesitation, especially with her foster care background, but still, she was pack. It meant something to him. Of course he would integrate her into his domestic routines. Of course he would take on her previous responsibilities. He was her caregiver. Her provider.

Also, it was not as if she gave him nothing in return. Her scent alone helped to ground him in reality, helped him to focus on the present. He slept better, at least after having dealt with her incessant squirming. He woke up more relaxed and rested than before, his headaches as well as the static in his head a thing of the past. The change was directly reflected in his performance: His focus sharper than ever, his endurance on new heights, his recuperation period significantly shorter.

But even more importantly, seeing her around him, unafraid, seeking comfort in his presence made him feel like a good person. Someone who can be relied on, someone whose presence was worth seeking, not the murderous psycho the press painted him as. To receive this kind of trust from someone as innocent as a child, from someone so vulnerable, made him believe that he can’t be as bad as they say. All these thoughts ran through his mind, but he opted not to share them. Telling her she was his ‘emotional support child’ might not be as flattering as his alpha made it out to be.

“Doing all these things is my job.” Seeing her continued reluctance, he added, “But if it’s truly uncomfortable for you, I can give you some chores.” His alpha did not like the last part at all, adamant to be the one caring for her. But Dex ignored him. If Ellie needed that to feel more comfortable, then so be it.

He put his palm on the side of her neck, right over her gland, fingertips lightly grazing her nape, triggering the release of bonding hormones.

“Just let me take care of you. I want to. I want you.”

At that, Ellie’s eyes became slightly misty. She nodded jerkily.

“Good.” Dex raised himself, rubbed his wrist slightly on her hair before he went to the medkit, searching for the bruising cream.

If Ellie clutched at him a bit more desperately that night, he did not mention it.

-----

The days went on. Ultimately, Dex had given her the job of doing the laundry. Simple enough that she could do it alone but important enough to the weekly routine that she felt like a contribution to the arrangement. Other than that, their conversation was not brought up again.

But Dex was not naïve. He knew the issue was far from over. Despite mentioning she wanted a book that day, she never came to ask for money. The only books appearing in their apartment had the library sticker on their cracked spines.

He knew telling her that it was ok to ask for unnecessary things would not automatically lead to her actually believing it. Her belief that she was a burden was too ingrained into her. So, he had to prove it wrong.

That led to his current predicament. Surviving shopping.

Dex had never been the person to window shop or to ‘shop’ in general. If he needed something, he just purchased it. He did not make an ‘experience’ out of it. He didn’t browse or try on different things. If he went to a store, then while having a specific object in mind. It was a simple in-and-out operation. During his time at the FBI, he also usually got whatever he needed besides groceries online, not liking the overstimulating environment of shops at all.

But he was probably not the best benchmark for ‘normal’, so instead of leaving to do his usual investigating, Dex had grabbed Ellie after breakfast and taken her to the busier parts of town. Stoically ignoring her nosy questions about where they were going, Dex paved a way through the morning crowd. After a while, he stopped abruptly in front of a small store, Ellie almost running into him. Slightly grumpy, Ellie glanced up at the display. She froze when she realized it was a bookshop, then looked at Dex with wide eyes.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Dex steered her into the shop. The bookshop was not as big as commercial ones, but still busy. Dex grimaced slightly at the sight of the security cameras, angling himself to avoid his face being captured cleanly. The thought of remaining here with other, potentially bored and thus nosy, people made his skin crawl. He stood stiffly beside Ellie, conscious of every movement, registering every passing glance thrown their way.

However, when Dex glanced down at Ellie, he had to begrudgingly concede that their visit was probably a good idea. Ellie’s eyes sparkled in interest, enraptured by the many displays and unique book cover designs, neck craning, intent to see the various sections the store provided. Dex cleared his throat.

“You can choose three.” He eventually stated, trying to seem as impassive as possible, eyes carefully sweeping their surroundings,

Ellie snapped her head towards him, hopeful excitement lighting up her whole face.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Dex repeated impatiently, pushing Ellie gently forwards, away from the busy entrance. Finally taking the hint, Ellie took off…right to the discount section.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance but unfortunately not surprised, Dex calmly caught the girl by her shoulders and steered her towards the fantasy and science-fiction section, a genre she seemed to enjoy according to the various library books strewn across their apartment.

“I have more than enough money.” He sighed. He then lowered his head to her ear, whispering conspiratorially. “The agents were quite generous in their posthumous donation yesterday.”

That prompted a startled laugh. Dex smirked, secretly relieved that she was not appalled by the violent implication of his statement, but he guessed seeing him gearing up almost every evening would have also painted quite a specific picture of his ‘work’.

Dex observed her browsing through the shelves, picking up interesting-seeming books and reading carefully through the blurb. She looked much more relaxed now. Seeing her so calm, so content, grounded him, allowing him to slightly relax.

After almost an hour, Ellie was the proud owner of three additional books, her gait visibly excited. She clutched them to her chest, refusing Dex’s offer to carry them resolutely, basically skipping down the sidewalk beside him. What a picture they two had to make. Dex in all his intimidating, glowering glory and the scrawny, bubbly girl, excitedly explaining to him the intricate plot of one of her chosen books, a world where people’s souls are supposedly manifested as animal companions by their side. She avidly theorized what kind of daemon they would have, completely enraptured by the concept. Apparently, he was either a Malinois or a mountain lion.

Dex listened to her excited buzzing, humming absentmindedly while carefully scanning their surroundings for any AVTF members. Ellie did not seem to mind his lack of engagement, taking his humming as silent encouragement. It was nice hearing her so lively. Finally acting her age. 

He carefully guided her down the busy street, several times needing to tug Ellie out of the path of bicycles. They came to a stop in front of a pastel monstrosity with huge golden letters spelling out ‘Omega’s Market’. The chain store was aimed at omegas, containing everything they might need, especially nesting material. The store contained rows upon rows of fluffy blankets, which allegedly should all be different from each other somehow, but as an alpha, he admittedly had not much experience with the intricacies of nesting material. Her heat and his rut were around the corner, so a trip had been long overdue. Also, towels might be enough for a nest that has to be easily disassembled, but they were definitely not worthy of a real nest. No. She would need something more fitting. Something more permanent. Something that underlined that she was there to stay.

The moment they stepped into the store, Dex was met with a sense of calm, the store purposefully filling the air with omega pheromones for a relaxed shopping experience. Ellie studied her surroundings with cautious interest. She had mentioned that she had presented as an omega during her time in foster care, so he doubted she had ever visited such a shop. His suspicion was confirmed by her curious yet shy reaction, shuffling closer to him in the new and strange environment. Dex felt quite out of place in this world of fluff and softness, his broad, menacing form making him appear like an overgrown guard dog behind Ellie.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the approach of a very motivated-looking store clerk. Internally sighing, Dex put on his charming ‘Tony’ smile. The young woman, clearly an omega, mustered them both, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she smiled widely.

“Welcome to Omega’s Market! How can I help you two?” she said in an overly cheery voice.

Ellie looked up at him for guidance. Dex shook his head.

“We’re just looking around.” He replied, steering Ellie towards the first rows.

Unfortunately, the woman did not get the hint. Following them, she elaborated cheerily about how overwhelming it could be to find the best blanket, and how important it was for kids to find something suitable. Like an annoying fly, she flitted around them, chattering their ears off about fibres and different types of weaves or fibre composition. It was aggravating.

With time, it became painfully clear that she was hitting on him, probably having noticed his lack of a wedding band. She made pointed comments like ‘how refreshing it was to see an alpha like him taking interest in their omega daughter’ or ‘how nice it was to see such an involved parent’ as if it were a compliment to congratulate for the bare minimum. The parental address made Ellie and him stiffen slightly, with Ellie suddenly finding the floor very interesting. The woman, oblivious to their discomfort, continued with her chatting with the grace of a bulldozer, emboldened by Dex’s stoic silence, mistaking it for acceptance rather than very thin polite tolerance.

“Your daughter is adorable. She really is the spitting image of you.” At that, Ellie snorted, then poorly tried to hide it behind a cough.

Her comments continued, her scent becoming sweeter, its cloying smell irritating his nose. Dex’s patience started to wear thin, his jaw clenching and shoulders becoming stiffer by the minute. The only thing holding him back from snapping at her was Ellie’s presence. Moreover, he was a wanted man. He could definitely not make a scene with all these cameras in the store. Especially not in an omega store where alpha attacks are unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence. But when she touched his arm, marvelling at how firm his bicep was, Dex was increasingly tempted to strangle her. Just when he thought he would finally snap and let his polite mask slip, Ellie spoke up, glaring unblinkingly at the woman, her expression eerily similar to Dex: No nonsense, intense, promising violence.

“I already have a mom.” Her voice was cold, face entirely void of all pleasantry.

At that, the woman sputtered, flushed in embarrassment, and then hastily fled the scene, her murdered dignity wilting on the floor.

Ellie glared after her, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. Feeling his gaze, she shrugged, now appearing slightly embarrassed.

“What? She was rude first.” She said defensively.

“Nothing,” Dex smirked, oddly proud. Then he gestured at a blanket he had noticed Ellie eyeing before.

“You want this one?”

Ellie perked up, running her fingers over the soft fabric, urging him to touch it too, her scent changing back to her content excitement.

When they finished, it was already time for lunch. Ellie’s omega had practically vibrated, trilling excitedly at her new nesting materials. Her glands exuded a scent of utter joy.

Dex, now finally allowed to carry something, had both hands full with the chosen blankets. Noticing Dex preoccupied with scanning the surroundings, a garish pink blanket peeking out of his bag, Ellie saw her chance and threw her arms around his torso for a tight hug. Dex had frozen, for once in his life utterly unprepared. Her head pressed against his chest, Ellie mumbled a soft ‘thank you’ before she shyly let go of him. Then, as if nothing had happened, she marched in the direction they had come from, the back of her neck burning. Dex chuckled and shook his head in amusement. Yes, it had indeed been a good idea to take her shopping.

-----

Back at the apartment, Dex observed Ellie weaving the acquired blankets into a nest. She would arrange and rearrange the blankets, its logic or desired symmetry eluding him, but it was probably an omega thing. He had scented the blankets, the special fabric absorbing his scent easily. It was nice observing her fussing over something as simple as blankets, brow furrowed in concentration, absentmindedly biting her lips.

When Dex finally went to bed, careful not to destroy her hard work, Ellie had already curled into her new nest, kneading the blankets like a pleased cat. She had left the side facing him mostly open, allowing him to easily grab her and gather her to his chest. Dex could not help but smile at her soft purring, her scent utterly content.

Part 6 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter Kidfic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ...

Summary: Dex finally comes to terms with what his instincts were trying to tell him since the beginning.

WC: 5k

crossposted on ao3

!!!Content warning for depiction of attempted sexual assault and physical violence!!!

Dex could not remember the last time he had felt this amount of bloodlust. The rage was rushing through his arteries like gasoline, his burning fury pushing him to run even faster down the dark, grimy alleys leading to the gym. The few people still out and about at this time of the night hastily scurried out of his way, gaping at him with fear.

The storeroom was not far from his apartment; one of the main reasons he had suggested it. But now, even the comparatively short distance felt insurmountable. Every corner he turned, every meter the distance shrank, felt not enough. Every step just a constant reminder that he was not there yet.

Sprinting down another alley, Dex fluidly readied two of his many knives, gripping them tightly between his knuckles.

He was right at the corner before the gym when the scent hit him. It was faint in the warm summer night; ordinary people would have struggled to notice it, probably only feeling a sense of discomfort they could not explain, but for Dex, the scent of terror and pain was unmistakable. Just as the distinct coppery undertones of blood. And arousal. His alpha howled for blood.

Not caring one bit about subtlety, Dex violently kicked open the door, the lock giving way with a rusty screech.

The sight that met him made the bile rise in him. Ellie was lying on the ground, weakly sobbing. Blood streamed from her nostrils and a cut on her eyebrow down her face, mixing with her tears and painting her lower face scarlet. Her right arm looked wrong. The shoulder was visibly out of place, her arm lying limply to her side. Dislocated. More details flooded his vision, such as thrown-over equipment or her destroyed nest, but Dex forced himself to ignore them for now, his predatory gaze zeroing on the grimy man half sitting on top of her and fidgeting with her belt buckle.

The scent of excitement, of arousal, cloyed his nostrils, its mixture with Ellie’s scent almost making him gag. At his entrance, the man snapped his head towards him and stared suspiciously, taking in his domineering alpha scent.

“Hey, I found the bitch fir-” A short knife embedded itself in his eye up to the hilt. With an animalistic howl, the man staggered away from Ellie, clutching at his injury.

The next two knives buried themselves in his tights in rapid succession. Screaming in pain, the man fell to the floor with a dull thud. He clumsily crawled backwards, in a desperate attempt to create distance between him and his assailant, pleading pathetically. But distance had never been an issue for Dex.

Another knife hit him square in his abdomen.

Next, the back of his hand.

His groin.

All non-lethal.

All designed to inflict as much pain as possible.

Disgusted by his screeching, Dex plunged another one into the man’s voice box, careful not to let the knife burry too deep, lest the loss of blood would suffocate him. Ending his suffering prematurely.

Crossing the distance, Dex snarled down at the gurgling man, viciously stomping his ribcage. He shattered bones, crushed limbs. Dex felt as if he was detached from his body. No sense or reason could rip him out of his fervour. Too enraged to stop.

At least until a puppy’s whimper pierced the air, ripping him out of his violent frenzy. As if doused in cold water, Dex’s head cleared immediately. It was as if his very atoms had reoriented themselves within a second, his priorities instantly shifting to what was actually important. Ellie.

The girl had not moved from her position on the dirty ground, limp. Eyes open, but unseeing. Heavily dissociated.

Dex knelt next to her, tenderly cradling her face in his big palms, and softly called her name. But Ellie did not respond, eyes glassy, mind somewhere far away. The only reaction he was able to elicit was a slight flinch when he inadvertently touched a sensitive spot on her face, while trying to assess the damage. He shushed her gently, trying to soften his scent into something less aggressive. With mixed success. His agitation continued to rise the more details of her injuries he perceived, his ‘nighttime experiences’ painting him a vivid picture of what the man had done to her to inflict this amount of damage. But considering the amount of blood seeping out of her nostrils, Dex ultimately resigned his attempt to control his scent, as Ellie probably was not able to smell him anyway.

While inspecting her face, Dex gritted his teeth in fury, identifying several forming bruises and small wounds where the skin had split open by the violent blows. It was bad. Glancing down at her body, he quickly surveyed for other injuries, but he would only know their full extent after he had freed her of the blood-stained clothing back at his apartment. Her scent of distress was still potent in the air, nearly choking him in its intensity.

When he carefully raised her into a sitting position, Ellie choked out a wet whine, the pain prompting new tears to stream down her face, creating paths through the smudges of blood. Dex immediately stopped in his ministrations, holding her trembling form against him and pressing his forehead lightly against the side of her head in an attempt to ground himself. With a deep breath, Dex slightly adjusted her, his gaze shifting to her dislocated shoulder. Eyes full of intense contemplation, Dex came to a hard decision. He should probably take advantage of her dazed state to reset it, before the swelling would make it impossible without the assistance of a trained medic.

Dex gingerly touched her arm. Ellie immediately cried out in pain, feebly trying to push him away. She started to sob weakly against his shirt. The sound broke his heart, but Dex knew it had to be done sooner rather than later. Adjusting his grip on her so that her uninjured shoulder was pressed to his chest, Dex firmly immobilized Ellie with his tights bracketing her torso, leaving him with both hands free to safely reset her shoulder. Ellie’s weak struggles ceased shortly after, soft whimpers escaping her, her scent screaming for her pack. Screaming for Dex. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder and placed the other one just below her elbow to guide the ball back into the socket. He paused for some seconds, his thumb on her arm drawing soothing circles. Then, with a sudden movement, he twisted the arm up, the joint rolling back into place with a sickening pop. The omega gave a strangled scream, then crumbled into his side, crying softly. Dex embraced her trembling frame with tenderness, murmuring apologies.

Ellie’s reddened eyes slowly trailed up to his face. The pain must have been enough to rip her from her dissociative state.

“Dex?” Her voice sounded terrible. Hoarse and trembling. But also, so hopeful.

Dex immediately brought his hand to her cheek, noticing with relief that this time she did not flinch away.

“I’m here.”

At that, Ellie’s lips started to wobble, floodgates opening in earnest. With a high-pitched keen, she buried her face into his chest, her uninjured arm clawing at him as if afraid he would suddenly vanish. Her scent of relief flooded the cramped room, its intensity almost leaving Dex dizzy.

He immediately encircled her shaking frame with his strong arms, careful not to put any pressure on her injuries. She nosed at his scent gland, then keened in dismay when the swelling and blood in her nose kept her from properly taking him in. Dex shushed her, whispering how he was here, assuring her that he’s not going anywhere, coaxing her to focus on his touch, while gently kneading the scent glands of her tiny wrists, triggering calming hormones.

Minutes passed as he sat on the grimy ground with Ellie in his lap, rocking slightly back and forth. The gurgles behind him had long ceased when Ellie’s crying started to quiet, her body too exhausted to continue. After several failed attempts, Ellie regained her voice, managing barely a whisper. 

“He-He tried to-” Her face contorted into a grimace, not able to finish the sentence.

“I know,” Dex replied huskily, not wanting her to feel the need to continue. But it was as if she couldn’t stop.

“I tried to- my knife - like you showed- but I- I couldn’t-” She stammered, totally overwhelmed.

She was spiralling, her eyes flickering aimlessly around, defocused. Her breathing became erratic, her body trembling as it struggled to breathe. Dex’s attempts of calming her did not bear fruit, her hyperventilation only worsening. It was a horrible sight. He wanted it to stop. But his attempts to ground her to reality were insufficient; Ellie was too far gone. Hopelessly trapped in her mind. Forced to relive it.

Clenching his jaw tightly at the pitiful sight, Dex finally came to a decision. Inhaling deeply, Dex finally gave in to what his alpha had urged him to do for weeks. Squeezing her against him, Dex gently nuzzled her neck, rumbling deeply. Even in her distress, Ellie instinctively bared her neck at him, allowing him better access. Then he bit her nape firmly as he had done in the dusty staircase months ago.

Ellie crumbled into his arms, the bite overriding her panicked response, prompting her into an instinct-driven headspace similar to her heat. Dex observed her condition closely, noting how her breathing slowly normalized, and her scent of distress slowly yielded to the addictive sweetness of omega.

Brushing back a strand of her hair, Dex gazed down at her, her expression of contentment occasionally disturbed by short frowns of discomfort when a movement strained one of her many injuries. The alpha slowly picked up her tiny, battered frame, her head pressed to his collarbone. He pressed his lips to her temple, resolute in his decision.

“Let’s get you home,” he mumbled softly into her hair.

-----

This time, the bite did not overwhelm him. The fact that the girl was his, part of his pack, had been an unconscious, irremovable truth for his alpha for so long that Dex's conscious acknowledgment of it was hardly a shock to his system.

The trek back was slow, Dex careful not to jostle her, every pained whimper cutting him like knives. The few people still roaming the streets skittishly flinched away at his glower, his scent so aggressive that it made even other alphas cower in fear.

Finally at his apartment, Dex carefully placed her on the bed, answering to her pitiful keens at the loss of contact with a deep rumble. It was strange how an act feeling so alien just some weeks ago became the knee-jerk reaction to her little whimpers of distress. Taking a seat next to the bed, Dex gently carded his fingers through Ellie’s hair, an act not just aimed at calming her and assuring her of his continued presence but also to carefully probe her head for any injuries. There was a tender bruise at the back of her head, prompting a whimper from her. Dex immediately shushed her, apologising softly for hurting her. At the sound of his voice, Ellie’s body relaxed again. At least as much as her injuries allowed.

Dex just sat there for several minutes, observing the slow rise and fall of her chest. His gaze was instinctively drawn to her neck. He pursed his lips in displeasure when he saw the telltale signs of a developing bruise where he had bitten her, the thought that he might have added to her pain troubling him.

Dex knew biting her might have been a bit invasive, considering that he had used her dynamic to shut down her distress forcefully. But, considering the extent of her injuries, he could not bring himself to care. If there was a serious injury to her torso, her hyperventilation could have definitely aggravated it. That bonding hormones were a known analgesic, their effect thankfully not exclusive to pair-bonds, was just an additional perk. Her enforced drop into her minimal headspace would at least let her find comfort in her instincts.

On his awfully clean bed, Ellie seemed filthy. Her face was smeared with blood, tears, and grime. Small scrapes on her elbows painted a vivid picture of how violently she must have been thrown to the ground. Hand-shaped bruises encircled her lower arms, already turning purple. And that’s just the injuries he could make out at first glance. Her clothes were smeared with blood and grime, itching him to change her into something more hygienic. But he did not dare to. Not after what had almost happened -no- what had happened to her.

Instead, he carefully wiped her face and arms with a wet towel, careful not to touch her cuts directly. After disinfecting her wounds, cooing at her whimper of discomfort, he carefully wrapped them. He gazed down at his work: Half of her face was slathered with soothing cream for her bruises, small butterfly tapes stabilizing the cut on her eyebrow and her split lip. Her nose was thankfully not broken but still bled sluggishly into the tissue he had taped under her nose. Thankfully, courtesy of his ‘job’, he had several ice packs already in his small freezer, which he pressed gingerly to the side of her face. 

While he still hesitated to change her clothes, he knew he had to inspect the rest of her body for injuries, especially her torso. Gently massaging the bite to trigger another spike of calming hormones in hopes to keep her from freaking out, Dex carefully lifted her shirt to assess the state of her torso.

The sight immediately filled him with rage. He had to force himself to breathe calmly, careful to control his scent. There was a nasty bruise blooming on her lower ribs. The scumbag had to have kicked her quite brutally for it to bruise to this extent in that short period of time. Carefully palpating the bruised area, he breathed a sigh of relief when he did not feel any shifting under the skin. Not broken. Again, he packed several cooling packs on her, fixing them in place with a loose bandage.

By far the worst must have been her injured shoulder. Despite the early relocation of the arm, the skin was heavily bruised and swollen. He carefully bound her arm to her torso in an improvised sling, not wanting her to jostle the tender joint in her sleep.

She looked much better now, bundled in his bed surrounded by heavily scented blankets and pillows. Safe. Sighing tiredly, Dex leaned back in his seat and waited.

-----

Ellie startled awake with a pained whine. Mouth contorted in discomfort, the young omega blinked tiredly around the room. Dex was immediately at her side, placing a firm hand on her uninjured shoulder to keep her from moving too much.

“Don’t move. You will only aggravate your injuries.” He chided softly, observing her expression closely.

At his touch, her eyes instantly fixed on him, squinting confusedly up at him.

“Dex? Wha-”. Her question was interrupted by a wet cough, her throat trying to expel the blood that had trickled down from her injured nose. Dex immediately went to help her into a more upright position. The stray tears of pain that trickled down at the movement broke his heart. He mumbled soft apologies and handed her a cup with a straw, hoping it would help with her coughing fit.

Greedily, Ellie drank in slow gulps, her body slowly calming down from the violent tremors that had wrecked her beforehand. Clearing her throat, Ellie tiredly thanked him and faced him again, looking wholly exhausted. 

“What happened? Why does it hurt?” she whispered, her big eyes searching him for reassurance.

Dex pondered for a moment what he should reply, but before he was able to come to a decision, he noted how her confused expression had morphed into blankness. Ellie’s eyes slowly lost their focus. Her breathing increased in speed. Shit!

Her previous breakdown painfully burned into his mind, Dex snapped his fingers in front of her face, trying to keep her from losing herself in her memories again. Ellie flinched at the sound, making him feel slightly bad, but it had worked. Her eyes had immediately focused on the sound, staring at his obnoxiously close hand in front of her.

“Hey, eyes on me.” Dex gripped her chin firmly, turning it towards him. He scooted closer, intently staring into her eyes.  

“He is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.” She said nothing, but he could see her rapt attention, desperately soaking up his words. “This will never happen again. They would have to go through me first. Understood?” He held firm eye contact with her, wanting – no – needing her to understand that.

With watery eyes, Ellie nodded. Satisfied for now, Dex softened his grip a little, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly tried to look away as her lip started to wobble. He did not let her. Instead, he gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed and pressed her face against his neck, his hand rubbing gently up and down her back. He could feel a wet patch forming on his shirt, but he ignored it, too focused on her stuttering breathing against his skin. She barely made a sound, just silently clawed her hand into his shirt as if making sure he would not leave.

The next few hours, he made sure she hydrated herself properly and made her take some painkillers. When he carefully addressed the topic of her filthy clothes, she froze, staring at the stiff, bloody patches on her shirt as if she noticed them for the first time. She nodded jerkily. Since crying, she had barely said a word, but Dex did not push, certain she would speak when she felt ready enough.

Figuring she would not want to keep the ruined clothing anyway, he unceremoniously cut the shirt open on the side after asking her assent, so that taking it off without jostling her shoulder would be easier. He gently helped her into one of his shirts, specifically selecting one that was saturated with his scent and soft with age. With some manoeuvring, he also managed to change the dirty sheets, figuring that getting rid of all the evidence was better sooner than later. The whole time he could feel her observing him, her eyes instinctively following him around the room. When he had gone inside his bathroom for a minute, the relief at his reappearance was palpable in the air. He did not comment on it, his alpha content that his presence alone was seemingly a comfort for her.

It was already late, nearly five in the morning. Deciding she needed rest, Dex helped her lower herself back to a lying position and tucked the freshly scented blankets around her with the precision of a Navy SEAL.

Then, Dex snatched a pillow and informed her softly that he would sleep on the couch, with the intention to give her space, a decision which displeased his alpha greatly. But when he turned around, he was stopped by a small hand grabbing his shirt. Ellie’s soft voice took him by surprise.

“Can you-” She suddenly looked conflicted, face flushing. “Could you stay? Please? I- I don’t want to be alone.” She averted her eyes shyly, probably expecting to be teased. Or worse: Rejected. Before his second rut, he might have, teasing a knee-jerk reaction when it comes to dealing with difficult emotions. But now, studying her fragile form and the tight grip she had on the blanket, it never even had crossed his mind.

“Of course.”

Her face snapped in his direction in surprise, her relief and happiness practically oozing from her. Wordlessly, he lay down next to her. Balling up a finished water bottle, Dex casually threw it towards the light switch at the apartment door, of course successfully turning off the light. He smiled in the dark at Ellie's soft huff of amused annoyance, the girl mumbling something that suspiciously sounded like showoff.

He lay next to her for a long time, listening to her soft breathing evening out. He thought back to the last couple of hours, how the police must already be swarming the gym’s storeroom. Dex mentally went through the scene, pondering if something could connect him or her to the scene. Thankfully, he had taken most of her stuff with him, her good habit of keeping her most prized possessions in her bag for fast escapes saving valuable time. The towels, however, he had left there; it would have taken too much time to gather them all, and considering that they now probably bore faint traces of the scumbag’s scent, it was probably for the best. He would just get her new ones. Still, the towels were a clear indication that an omega, and judging from the scent, a young one was involved. Also, some morons might tell the police about how they spotted an alpha with a small omega stalking aggressively through the night, but he doubted the authorities would connect it back to Bullseye. While the knife wounds were definitely his M.O., close combat and kidnapping were not really his style. Satisfied with his conclusion, Dex finally allowed his muscles to relax, Ellie’s soft breathing lulling him to sleep.

-----

Over the next couple of days, under his smothering vigilance, Ellie slowly regained her mobility. During the first two days, Dex had to largely carry her around, Ellie still too weak to manage on her own. Not that he had minded. His alpha guiltily preened every time Ellie timidly asked him for help, be it changing her clothes or bringing her something to drink, proud to be relied on, to be allowed to provide. Ellie, on the contrary, seemed quite embarrassed and slightly upset about needing help, with no assurances from Dex being able to change her mind.

On day three, she managed to walk around on her own. She was still weak, her gait as graceful as a newborn fawn’s, but the newfound independence appeared to lift her mood a bit. Her bruises had darkened considerably, blue and purple spots scattered across her face and limbs. She did not talk about what had happened, and Dex did not ask, giving her space. But he knew, despite her brave face, Ellie was far from fine. He had noticed how she avoided looking in the small mirror in the bathroom, the bruises evidence of what had happened to her.

She also became more jumpy, every unexpected sound, every too-loud laughter resounding from the hallway making her flinch. Dex hated it. Thankfully, her behaviour towards him did not undergo the same development. It was rather the reverse.

Dex noticed how she sought his proximity, hovering close to him just shy of touching while he prepared food or maintained his weapons, following him around like a lost duckling. The comparison made an amused smile grace his lips, filing it away for later teasing. But he would be lying if her display of trust did not make him oddly pleased.

When her bruises started to fade into green on day seven, this behaviour, however, started to change. She was now able to do most herself again, the only constraint between her and full mobility being her sling, a matter on which Dex was uncompromising, knowing her shoulder needed time to heal. The more days passed, the more Ellie became distant, avoiding eye contact and being strangely quiet again. Dex did not think much of it at first; healing is not as linear as people believe, especially not after such an experience, but after some days, when he noted the distinct scent of anxiety being faintly emitted from her glands, he became worried he had done something wrong.

His worries were just slightly assuaged by Ellie’s continued desire to co-sleep at night. As her scent and body language betrayed no discomfort at his proximity, Dex did not press the matter. That she suffered from frequent nightmares only validated their arrangement. They were often rather minor; if he were not so attuned to her, he might have missed the soft whimpers escaping her trembling lips or the faint souring of her scent. When they happened, Dex usually strengthened his scent, the pheromones signalling safety and protection, instantly calming her without even needing to wake her.

But this time it was different. Ellie had been rigid the whole day, skittishly kept out of his way, pretending not to notice his questioning glances. When Dex was roused from his sleep by her whimpers, he was taken aback that his pheromones appeared not to be enough. Her breathing became more erratic, her limbs twitching slightly. Uncertain what to do, Dex cautiously touched her uninjured shoulder. Ellie gasped awake with a violent flinch, instinctively trying to scoot away.

“Relax. It’s me.” Dex murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

At the sound of his voice, Ellie relaxed minutely just to tense again, ducking her head.

“Sorry,” she squeaked, her scent anxious.

With a tired sigh, Dex carefully extended his arms and gathered her rigid body to his chest. She lay against him, awfully tense, her scent one of anxiety and … guilt? Dex ignored the second scent for now, focusing on calming her down. 

“Was it about the man?” He felt her nod hesitantly against him, her small hands fisting into his shirt. He acknowledged it with a low hum, then squeezed her. 

“I meant it when I said this won’t happen again.”

Ellie squirmed uncomfortably at that, her anxious scent spiking. Dex frowned, but before he could ask, she spoke, her voice wavering slightly.

“You-you can’t promise that.”

“What?” Dex’s voice took on a steely cadence. His alpha was not pleased at all that she appeared to doubt his ability to protect her. Ellie immediately picked up on his mood change, ducking her head submissively. Sputtering, she tried to explain her point.

“I mean… you can’t always be around. That you were close enough this time was just luck.” Her explanation did not help to calm his alpha. The insinuation of her leaving elicited an intense sense of possessiveness. Reeking of confused anxiety about his reaction, Ellie tried to squirm away. But Dex’s arms were like bands of steel. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dex growled.

Ellie froze at the sound.

“What?”

“You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere.”

“What do you mean? I’m basically healed. I’ve been mooching off your stuff. Why wouldn’t you want me to leave?” she asked, voice confused and slightly teary.

The question hit him like a brick, understanding finally blooming in his mind. The skittishness, the distance, the constant anxiety. She had been waiting for him to kick her out. Desperate to keep out of his way, to not be a bother, to not draw attention to herself. The realization pained him.

He closed his eyes. Breathed in. And out.

Dex squeezed her tightly to him. Then he pressed his fingers slightly to the bite bruise on her neck. A strangled keen escaped her, accompanied by a puff of submissive pheromones.

“Feel that? That means we are pack. You are my responsibility. Mine to protect.” He placed his hand near her nape, not close enough to scruff but enough to make her relax. “Understood?” he added huskily.

A heavy silence settled over the apartment. Dex was already mentally preparing for her inevitable resistance. She was not a kid that likes being told what to do.

“So I can stay?” Dex blinked at her choice of words. ‘Can’. Not ‘have to’. Ellie sniffled and clenched her hands into his shirt.

“You won’t change your mind, even if I become a bother?” Her tone utterly vulnerable. The question broke his heart.

“I told you. You’re pack.” Dex repeated, gently carding his fingers through her hair, scenting her.

“That hasn’t stopped them.” The pain and bitterness were tangible in the air. Dex paused in his petting, the new information taking him by surprise.

“Who?” His voice steely.

“My parents,” Ellie whispered, voice strangled with emotion.

A loaded silence followed the revelation. Dex did not know what to say, too shocked by what he had just learned. After a moment, he felt her stuttering inhale.

“I was the only one blipped in my family. When I came back, they both had moved on. Each already having a new family.” She took a deep breath, nearly overcome with emotion. “They did not want me anymore. Was too needy. Messing up their family peace. So they gave me up.” Her voice broke at the last couple of words, a keen full of pain escaping her. Her bottled anxiety and pain finally spilling over.

Dex could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. That he was angry would be an understatement. He was livid.

Fisk. Vanessa. Julie. Matt. Ray. Everybody used him. Abandoned him when he became inconvenient, or when they suddenly regained their precious morals. He won’t be like that. With a possessive growl, he crushed her against his chest.

“I’m not them. If you’re pack, then you’re pack. There’s no reverse.”

At that, Ellie started sobbing in earnest, clinging to Dex like a lifeline. Dex held her through it, rubbing her back and whispering gentle assurances. That he won’t leave. That she’s not a burden. That he chose her.

When her trembling receded, she clung to him. Only her occasional sniffles broke the silence.

Dex’s thumb brushed her bruise in gentle strokes, triggering the release of oxytocin. He nosed her hair, relishing in her lavender-tinged scent of happiness. He could feel the beginnings of her purr. Not able to resist, Dex mockingly grabbed her face in his palms, making her look at him.

“You’re now stuck with me,” he taunted. Then, with a teasing smirk, Dex smeared the oily scent gland of his wrist right across her face, making her yelp in disgust at the feeling. Her whines of complaint only widened his smile. Chuckling softly, he adjusted his grip and turned onto his side, curling protectively around her. Tucking his nose back into her hair and inhaling deeply, Dex let out a contented rumble. 

Part 5 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter Kidfic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ...

Summary: The girl is not his responsibility … or is she?

WC: 7.2k

crossposted on ao3

The next day, Dex was in full rut. It seemed his alpha had not recovered well from the fact that the girl had genuinely believed he would allow her to be potentially assaulted if she misbehaved. Hell, he might not be Mother Teresa, but he would not let any kid be assaulted if he could prevent it. Her uncertainty about whether he would protect her thus led to an alpha very eager to convince her otherwise. His overzealous determination resulted in an even more possessive and protective behaviour, barely letting the girl leave the bed, clutching her in a crushing embrace, and scenting her so thoroughly that one could hardly smell the girl underneath his potent scent. Desperate to make her understand that she belonged to him, that she was under his protection.

Unfortunately, because the girl had already spent almost a day in her heat, their windows of lucidity did not match up, her heat rhythm largely decoupled from his rut. Their arrangement still worked, but it also made it horribly awkward for both of them. Both, but especially Dex, were not really used to receiving or initiating affectionate touch. It was thus a strange experience for Dex to have someone clinging to him, craving his affection, while being fully in control of his mental faculties. Being fully lucid while the girl keened and purred against his chest, soaking up all the affection he managed to scrape together, was slightly overwhelming for someone as touch-starved as Dex. But despite feeling quite out of his depth, a sentiment he usually hated, Dex was surprised that the experience was not unpleasant.  

In fact, the contrast between the prickly kid and this sweet and soft creature was very endearing to Dex. Unsurprisingly, the girl was incredibly clingy throughout her heat phases, not wanting to be apart from him even when he tried to prepare something to eat or take a quick shower. During these instances, Dex eventually had to scruff her, leaving her limp form on the bed, bundled in a soft blanket he definitely did not purchase with her in mind, and trying to ignore her heartbroken keens.  

During the whole time, the girl looked quite dishevelled. Her hair was poofed up courtesy of his incessant petting and scenting, her clothes rumpled, and her eyes droopy, thoroughly scent-drunk. Dex stayed with what he knew, carding his hands gingerly through her hair, slightly scratching her scalp, and detangling occasional knots. At her purr of contentment, a genuine smile sneaked on his lips. Her adorable behaviour, especially her newly developed tendency to butt her head against his jaw like a cat asking for attention, even startled some chuckles from him. His feral cat being that docile was just too much of a contrast to remain stoic.

As kids, according to the parent blogs he was forced to scour through, are prone to becoming overwhelmed with the scents to properly compute the events of their heat, leaving them with a spotty memory at best, Dex was curious how much she would remember of her behaviour haze. He hoped it was embarrassingly much. He himself was able to recollect most of his memories after some hours, even if most of them resembled a confused haze. It was a curse and a blessing. While he usually hated to remember how demeaning he behaved during his ruts, rutting like an animal, this time, Dex did not mind at all. Rather than being coloured by feelings of disgust and humiliation as usual, his memories of his last rut were tinged by affectionate fondness and warmth. While some parts of his instinctual behaviour still embarrassed him, notably the intimate act of nuzzling, the innocent affection and show of trust he received in return were a welcome departure from his usual ruts.

So, Dex closed his eyes, gingerly held the purring girl to his chest, and breathed in her sweet puppy scent. It was still underdeveloped, still a rather neutral, milky pup scent. A kid’s real scent only appears when they have fully matured, and their puppy heats or ruts have turned into real ones. But when Dex pressed his nose to the scent gland of her temple, he could make out faint traces of lavender under the overall sweetness. The discovery startled a rumble from his chest, his alpha pleased with the way her scent mixed with his own. The room’s very air now proof of them being pack. He inhaled deeper. A profound sense of serenity, a calm no medication could ever come close to achieving, washed over him, the knowledge of being chosen for comfort by such a sweet creature filling him with a sense of pride. It felt nice being depended on. To be responsible for someone’s well-being rather than an inflictor of pain. It made him feel ‘good’, as if he redeemed himself a bit from his crimes by taking care of someone as vulnerable as her.

However, while he still felt a bit out of his element dealing with a being that is biologically primed to be as cuddly as possible without the detachment of his rut, Dex slowly came to appreciate the skewed windows of lucidity especially when he realised that the experience was a two-way street.

Remembering the girl, in all her embarrassed, prickly glory, interacting with a very possessive and affectionate version of Dex was incredibly amusing, especially since his alpha’s instincts seemed to be dialled up to 100% after the events of the previous evening. His need to prove to her that she was safe and wanted presented itself, unfortunately for her, in an extreme dislike to part with the kid even for a moment. His attention was downright smothering. Dex remembered how overwhelmed the girl was with dealing with his sudden affectionate behaviour. Her adorable hissing when she tried to defend her personal space, her yelp of outrage when it only prompted the alpha to hold her even tighter, her wheezed getoffme when he had trapped her body half under his own, made his loss of agency almost worth it. More than once, the girl tried to escape the nest in a desperate attempt to regain a modicum of breathing room from his smothering behaviour, only to be casually dragged back by her ankle into the nest and the arms of its touch-starved inhabitant. Her ultimate stoic acceptance of his doting behaviour and surprised embarrassment of her instinctual purring when he scratched her scalp was endearing. But what made him feel especially grateful for being able to remember the events of his rut was her occasional timid reciprocation to his rut-induced affection when she wrongfully assumed he was too deep in his rut state to notice it.

When his rut haze broke two days later, the girl was sprawled across his chest, looking utterly bored. Dex inhaled deeply, the scent confirming that her heat was already over. His satisfied hum broke the silence, catching her attention. The girl drowsily glanced up at him, her poofy hair drenched in his scent.

Dex mockingly squeezed her to him, making her wheeze, and flashed her a teasing smile.

“See, you are a weighted blanket.” He taunted hoarsely.

The girl scowled at him, a faint growl leaving her chest. But for once, her annoyance felt performative.

-----

The girl left some hours later.

Watching the girl leave left Dex oddly uncomfortable, putting him in a sour mood. The illogical emotional response made his jaw clench in frustration. He would probably visit her the next day anyway, so why did his alpha insist on chasing her down and dragging her back? His situation had not changed. His previous concerns still existed. The news still displayed his picture daily, his vendetta with the Fisks far from being resolved. No. Visiting her sporadically, as he had before, and snatching her when he needed her to calm his rut would suffice.

Before she left, Dex had insisted she eat something, rationalising that after one’s heat or rut, the body needed a heightened nutrient intake to make up for the calories the hormone flood had burned. After also making her take a shower, her greasy hair too disgusting to ignore, he had also returned her now-charged burner phone, berating her condescendingly about how phones need to be charged to function. Knowing that she at least did indeed try to call hardly managed to lower his passive-aggressive nagging, his anger about her irresponsible behaviour simmering under his skin. His audience had moodily squared her jaw but eventually nodded in begrudging acceptance. When he shoved some nutritional bars into her backpack, reminding her to eat them in the next few days, the kid had the audacity to roll her eyes, probably believing the angle would prevent him from seeing it. He let the blatant disrespect slide, the implication that she felt comfortable enough around him to act in this manner, the ultimate sign of her growing trust in him.

-----

Some weeks later, Dex was hit with the smell of annoyance and slight upset when he climbed the stairs to the old attic. Without even realising it, Dex immediately hastened his pace, the scent making his alpha restless. When he burst through the door with a bit more force than necessary, the girl was already staring at him, probably having heard his footsteps. With the vigilance of a paranoid guard dog, Dex carefully scanned the attic with his eyes, trying to identify the source of her upset. His aggressive scowl relaxed minutely when he found nothing out of place, at least until his eyes landed on her nest. Or what was left of it. Most of the girls’ towels had been neatly bundled up and stacked next to her small bag, her little trinkets gone. Alarmed, Dex stared at her, noticing her sullen mood.

“You’re moving.” He stated, furrowing his brows, trying to determine the reason.

The girl sighed, irritation clear on her face.

“Mayor Fisk has apparently signed some stupid ‘educational support’ act. All public libraries of a certain age will be renovated. They put a sign up about it at the reception.”

Dex pursed his lips, annoyed that Fisk of all people was kind of competent as a mayor. After years of underfunding public libraries, of course the criminal kingpin had to be the one to change it.

“You’re upset about it.” He stated after observing her aggressively stuff a towel into her bag. Since their last heat and rut, Dex had made an effort to be more perceptive of her mood, taking her negative emotions more seriously. Even if it meant occasionally swallowing down a teasing remark and just listen.

The girl glanced at him, uncertain, not sure if he was mocking her for being irritated about it or not, seemingly as unused to his attempt to be less of a jerk as he was. Eventually, she sighed.

“It’s just annoying.” She paused, continuing to bundle up her towels with a bit more force than necessary. “I’ve gotten used to slipping down and taking some books to read in the evening. I can’t do that anymore if I don’t live in the same building. There are sensors of some sort at the entries.”

Dex had noticed them. They were simple sensors that activate if a book comes too close to the door. When he had seen them, he had scoffed. They had money for sensors but apparently not enough for comfortable chairs for their visitors.

“Why don’t you just borrow them like normal?”

The girl threw him an irritated glance before exhaling tiredly, realising that her anger was misplaced.

“I don’t have a library card.”

Before he could ask why she did not apply for one, she continued her explanation.

“Minors can’t register for one on their own.” She added, her bitterness at the fact clearly visible. The burnt scent of her upset rolled from her in waves.

“That sounds hard, really hard.”

His poor attempt at empathy was met with a deadpan stare and a roll of her eyes. She dropped the topic.

When Dex eventually left, he could not keep himself from mulling over what he had learned. Not necessarily about her need to move – that was easily resolvable – but rather about the library card. Of course, not being able to acquire a library card is hardly a matter of life-or-death, but the fact that the girl was unable to register for something as simple as that reminded him uncomfortably about the special predicament she faced as a minor living on the streets. Unwillingly, the pharmacy incident came to his mind, and Dex had to take several deep breaths to keep his composure. If her fever had been just a bit higher, if he had visited her, maybe just half a day later, she might have suffered long-term damage or even lost her life, solely because she was too afraid to buy what she needed, because they would rat her out to Child Protective Services. Hell, she could not even find sanctuary in a homeless shelter because they are legally required to notify CPS about a homeless child. If she were hurt, she could not visit a hospital, nor could she go to the police if she felt threatened.

Dex clenched his fist tightly at the realization that she was completely isolated and vulnerable. But not anymore, his alpha whispered.

-----

It has been almost a week since Dex last visited. It had been in her new hideout, the slightly cramped stockroom of a gym full of their extra equipment. Dex had suggested it, pointing out that the ‘CCTV’ in front of it was a fake, albeit a convincing one to the untrained eye. It was weird listening to the advice of the alpha from whom she had obsessively hidden herself just some months ago, the irony not lost on her.

Dex had come by unannounced again and had wordlessly handed her some takeout from the Chinese place down the road, before stalking around the room, inspecting windows and exits. She had just accepted the food, curiously observing his behaviour. It reminded her much of his behaviour during his rut. Alert and protective. The realization made her omega preen.

When he had finally sat down, she was already half through her noodles. It was delicious as always. She was still unsure why exactly he brought her food every now and then, especially since he did not seem to want anything particular in return, but she did not complain. It was nice that she could accumulate her small amount of money for a change. She ignored how intently he observed her eat, knowing from experience that berating him about manners was a waste of time.

After annoying her with some unasked advice, he had finally left shortly after she had finished her meal, their conversation in the library’s attic long forgotten.

The next day, Ellie sat in her usual seat at the library, her leg bouncing on the hard wooden chair, too engrossed in her book to notice the looming presence behind her. Absentmindedly chewing on her lip, she almost drew blood when someone tapped her shoulder. Annoyed at being ripped from the wonderful world of Percy Jackson, Ellie turned around, ready to tell whoever had dared to disturb her exactly how she felt about that. Her complaints, however, got stuck in her throat when she was met with a very familiar chest. Her suspicion was unfortunately proven correct when she raised her head only to be met with Dex’s teasing smirk.  

Mouth agape, she stared flabbergasted at the alpha, who seemed quite satisfied with her befuddled reaction. He bent down lightly, bringing himself closer to her eye level. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders, face suddenly morphing into an expression of complete earnestness.

“There you are! I have been searching all around. You should tell me before you just go away.” Dex’s voice was insistent, perfectly imitating the tone of a worried parent.

“Wha-?” Ellie gaped at him, his behaviour having totally thrown her off balance as she stared at his earnest, worried expression. The fuck?

The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth snapped her out of her bafflement, his mask minutely slipping, revealing the gleeful jerk underneath. Before she could collect herself, Dex had already tugged her from her seat and steered her towards the library’s entrance. Ellie clutched her book to her chest, horribly confused about what was happening.

Before she knew it, Ellie stood rigidly in front of a very severe-looking librarian who squinted at them over the rim of her thick glasses. Stiffening at her attention, Ellie tried to take a step back, but her retreat came to a sudden stop when her back pressed against Dex’s hard chest. He held her firmly in place, his hand on her shoulder, seeming like a supportive parent with a very timid child. Dex flashed the librarian a charming smile.

“Excuse me, we would like to apply for a library card for her.” He glanced down at Ellie dotingly, which earned him a slightly disturbed look from the omega. Then the meaning of his words finally computed in her brain. She gaped, first at him, then at the elderly librarian. But her obvious bafflement was ignored.

So, Ellie dazedly stood there, clutching her book to her body as if it was the only thing tethering her to reality, while Dex charmed the librarian, providing her with all the credentials necessary. Despite her best attempt, Ellie could barely focus on the conversation, too flustered by the fact that Dex was here. She knew logically that Dex had a life outside of his visits. Hell, she saw his massacres often enough on the news. But seeing Dex in public, acting so ‘normal’, was jarring. For her, he belonged solely in her clandestine hideouts, in the privacy of closed-off rooms, but not in the open, public world.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she realised the librarian had addressed her.

“Huh?” What did she say?

The librarian repeated her question, smiling indulgently.

“Name and Date of Birth?”

“Wha-?” Ellie shook her head, attempting to rid herself of her daze. “I mean, Elenore Moore, August 27th, 2009.” The moment she said it, Ellie’s eyes widened in horror. Still too flustered by Dex’s sudden appearance and strange behaviour, she had answered truthfully.

The woman’s typing paused. Then she glanced down at her with eyes full of pity, her voice softening.

“Oh, were you blipped, dear?”

Ellie could feel Dex stiffen behind her, his fingers spasming around her shoulder minutely.

She swallowed, not wanting to think back to that day, of the feeling of vanishing into nothingness. So, she opted to just nod silently.

“All right.” The librarian nodded sympathetically and resumed her typing.

The printer whirred to life, and finally, Ellie was able to hold a library card in her hands.

-----

Dex and the girl were standing outside the library. He did not remember walking her out, the world ‘blipped’ still echoing in his head, pushing out all rational thought.

The blip was something Dex just experienced passively. He had been dimly aware of its occurrence, but he had been too drugged out of his mind to care much about it. Of course, the disappearance of half of the world’s population and its subsequent return five years later were a big deal, but since it did not personally affect him, he rarely, if ever, thought about it.

But now, the horrifying realisation that the girl, no, Elenore, had been blipped - had fucking died - hit him square in the face. He quickly did the math in his head. She had been nine when she was blipped. Nine. He tried to stop his spiraling thoughts, trying to remind himself that she was here. Alive. All good, but his alpha raged within him, hatred bubbling up in him at a titan that was long dead.

The girl next to him seemed not to notice his spiralling thoughts, too focused to admire the cheap plastic card with her name on it. Her newly borrowed book clutched under her arms.  

Dex cleared his throat, teeth grinding while he fidgeted.

“You were blipped?” His voice was composed, or at least as composed as he managed after that horrifying realization, but the distinct tightness around his mouth revealed his agitation.

The girl froze, not making eye contact, opting to fix her eyes to the ground. Her childish happiness about her library was gone in an instant.

“Don’t,” she whispered. Her voice fragile. Pleading. Her scent a horrible mixture of pain, fear, guilt, and anxiety.

Dex knew he should probably say something. Something comforting, something soothing. His alpha desperate to dissipate the scent. But Dex had never been good with other people’s emotions. He did not want to start something he was not able to handle, especially if her reaction was already this bad.

“Ok. I won’t.”

The girl visibly slumped, her relief palpable in the air. He could still smell the remnants of her emotional turmoil, but they were muted, gone with the wind.

He said nothing. Instead, he motioned her towards the sidewalk, intent on escorting her back to the gym. They walked in silence for several minutes, Dex absentmindedly placing himself between her and the traffic. Then he took a deep breath, forcing a teasing smirk on his lips.

“So, Elenore, huh?”

“No-that’s not- I obviously gave a fake name!” she sputtered, her voice adorably high-pitched.

The attempt was so poor that a genuine chuckle escaped him. He shook his head in amused exasperation, smiling.

“Sure thing, Ellie”. He condescendingly ruffled her hair. She hissed in outrage, trying to swat his hand away.

“Oh, fuck you!”

He smirked at her insult. But under his mask of nonchalance, he figuratively slumped in relief when her scent had finally returned to normal.

-----

After that day, Ellie noticed a visible change in Dex’s behaviour. While before he exclusively interacted with her in the safety of her hideouts, now he suddenly started to pop up at random in public places. It was as if his first visit had unlocked a whole new mode of interaction for him, now being able to bother her in the middle of the average New Yorker NPCs.  

It was maddening. When she was at the laundromat, good chance that he would sit behind her like god’s laziest jump scare. When she scoured the supermarket for reduced produce, he would suddenly materialize as if from thin air and throw some nutrition bars behind her at the checkout. At least he had the decency to pay for her stuff after he gifted her with a mini-heart attack. At least before, the only potential jump scares she had to fear were in her hideouts. Now, fucking everywhere! Ellie could only be grateful that his new behaviour had only started now. She shuddered to think about how she would have reacted if he had started this bullshit right after the flower shop meeting. Unfortunately, the library incident did not just allow Dex to ‘unlock new areas of interaction’ but also provided him with priceless information. Since the library incident, he used her name. All. The. Time.

She was not sure why exactly it riled her up. It’s not as if she disliked her name or that she feared revealing it would give him some sort of leverage over her. No. None of that. It felt just … too intimate. Which was stupid, considering the amount of time she had been basically glued to him like a piece of scotch. Her nest was permeated with his scent, for god’s sake! His use of her name should be nothing. Insignificant. But still, using someone’s first name was a sign of familiarity, evidence that they were more than just strangers occasionally sharing the same space. Familiarity breeds expectation, trust – vulnerability that could easily end in pain. Again.

-----

It was August 27th. Her birthday.

Since she came back from the blip four years ago, she had not celebrated it once. No one had cared in the orphanage or in the few foster families they had shipped her off to. But that was quite fine with her. It’s not as if she had any reason to celebrate. That’s something you do with family. With a home. Now, her birthday served only as a reminder of what she had lost. So she usually doggedly attempted to ignore the existence of the day, but unfortunately, with little success. Every time that damned day returned, she felt this horrible void inside of her, making it hard to breathe.

Today, she had slept almost until midday, the thought of having to face that day draining her of all her energy. She would rather remain curled up in her nest, guiltily pressing her face into her scented towels and doze until the day finally ended. Hunger, however, eventually forced her to moodily crawl out of her cocoon and scarf down some of Dex’s stupid energy bars. She barely tasted them. Not that they tasted of much anyway.

Ellie eventually dragged herself to the library, reasoning that if she was going to have a horrible day anyway, then she might as well have it in an air-conditioned environment. The distraction of reading helped a bit, the familiar world of Percy Jackson soothing her restless mind. However, her attention was scattered, ultimately forcing her to resign from her reading.

Hoping it would clear her head, Ellie trudged from the library, barely paying attention to her surroundings. Her eyes were trained to the ground, hands clenched tightly onto the straps of her backpack, while her thoughts continued to spiral. At least until some asshole stepped right into her path. Like a good New Yorker, she redirected her steps without missing a beat and attempted to slip smoothly past them, the occurrence too common to snap her out of her metaphorical dark cloud. However, the person adjusted with a fluid movement, forcing her to a stop. Now thoroughly irritated, Ellie raised her eyes to come face to face with Dex. Oh, for fucks sake! She internally sighed, squinting at Dex’s face in agitation. She was really not in the mood for his antics today.

“What do you want?” Her voice was more hostile than she had intended.

“What? Not happy to see me? I’m wounded.”

She huffed, pointedly looking away from him.

Not reacting to her disrespect, Dex went to stand beside her and casually laid an arm around her shoulders. With an irritated sigh, Ellie tried to shake it off, but his grip was too firm, not allowing any room for escape. Ignoring her moody attitude, Dex tugged her forward, determinately making his way down the street, while easily pulling her along despite her resistance. Ellie eventually gave up her struggles. If he wants to walk her back, fine! Not her waste of time!

Much to her surprise, however, Dex strode right past the street leading back to the gym. Confused and slightly hesitant, Ellie finally glanced up at his looming frame, asking Dex where they were going. Instead of answering, he just gave her a teasing smirk. Their ‘stroll’ came to a sudden end in front of a small café.

Ellie blinked in surprise. It was a café she recognised. It had been on her way from the flower shop to the library. She remembered how she had always slowed down to marvel at the many delicious-looking pastries on display. Obviously, she had never actually gone inside. The money was too tight to waste on something as useless as sweets.

The last time she had something like this was … No! Don’t think of that.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she timidly glanced up at Dex, who was studying her with an unreadable expression.

“What are we doing here?”

Dex mustered her for some seconds as if in thought, until his trademark smirk graced his lips. He shrugged.

“Craved a coffee.”

Ellie stared at him, befuddled.

“But wha-”

“My face is plastered on every news channel. A man with a kid is less conspicuous. That’s all.” He drawled, shrugging again as if using a kid as a disguise to get a cup of coffee was a totally normal thing to do.

Ellie frowned. As stupid as it sounds, his explanation… makes sense. No one, probably not even her, would expect Bullseye to lounge in a café with some kid. Especially not one draped in his scent.

Also, she did not have the energy to question the weirdo’s behaviour further.

Dex, seemingly taking her silence for acceptance, steered her through the door, hand on her shoulder, squeezing minutely as if in reassurance when she flinched at the surprisingly loud ding. The smell of coffee and pastries hit her straight on, making her relax without meaning to. The smell took her back to- No! Stop it! Before she could dwell long enough on her past, Dex had already manoeuvred her in front of the pastry display. He finally let go of her shoulders, standing beside her casually with one of his hands soothingly placed between her shoulder blades.

“See something you like?”

At that, Ellie uncertainly studied Dex’s face, searching for any sign that he was mocking her. She doubted she would recover from that. Especially not today. Not finding even a hint of deception, she turned her attention to the display.

Her gaze flickered across the assortment, her eyes resting minutely on the cheesecake on display. When the barista suddenly addressed her, asking kindly for her order, she was suddenly overcome with timidness, her voice refusing to cooperate. Before she could get herself together, Dex answered in her stead.

“A coffee, black, a hot chocolate, and that cheesecake,” Dex ordered with a flat tone, pointing to the cake as if it were evidence of a murder case. A normal person would have never noticed the slight hesitation, but unfortunately, Dex was the antithesis of ‘normal’.

Ellie gripped the straps of her backpack tighter.

Dex paid, accepted the cake, and steered Ellie to a table from where they could observe not only the majority of the café but also the busy street outside, always vigilant. He pushed her gently yet firmly into the chair before taking a seat opposite her. He deposited the cake unceremoniously in front of her, staring at Ellie expectantly. At that, Ellie finally found her voice.

“Why the cake?”

“Don’t read into it. With your scrawny frame, it would have looked bad if I didn’t.” He stated immediately, crossing his arms and resolutely staring at the barista who was preparing the rest of their order. After all these weeks, Ellie knew him well enough to spot his lie. He was amusingly bad at it if one knew the tells.

Besides, while she was still on the smaller side, over the last few weeks her body had finally gained some weight. The slight hollowness on her cheeks was long gone, the gangliness of her limbs less noticeable. She had even grown some inches. Overall, Ellie looked and felt healthier. Not just because of the increase in calories and nutrients, but also because she had regular access to his scent. Ever since Dex and she had that unspoken agreement with the scented clothes, she had been sleeping better than ever, her headaches practically gone.

Ellie picked at her cake with her fork and smiled slightly. Dex could be surprisingly nice. Unfortunately, it was usually accompanied by teasing remarks, but still. For a killer, he was oddly kind to her. Definitely not the psychotic murderer they portrayed him to be in the news.

She could feel Dex observing her out of the corner of her eyes. He did that a lot. At first, his intensity had been off-putting. She remembered how creeped out she felt when he had first shown up with takeout and basically bullied her into eating it. While she ate, he stared at her the whole time. It had freaked her out, fearing he had tampered with the food somehow. But after some weeks, she had grown accustomed to his staring problem, realizing that’s just how he was.

When the barista finally called their order, Ellie observed Dex’s powerful stride. Even without even trying, people parted, giving him space without seeming to notice it, his very presence demanding -no- claiming space. It was as if they were aware on some level of the predator among them. But although Ellie still found Dex intimidating, his aptitude for violence not forgotten, she stopped genuinely fearing him a long time ago. Rather, Ellie was shocked by the realisation that his bulky stature was almost reassuring. Broad enough to hide behind, skilled enough to eliminate any threats.

When he came back, they did not talk for several minutes. She observed the people bustling on the street, slowly sipping her hot chocolate. It was delicious. She could not remember the last time she had one. Probably before the blip. After a while, Dex broke the silence.

“How would you take that guy’s wallet?” Dex nodded minutely to a man with a bomber jacket waiting to order.

“Huh?”

“How would you do it without him noticing?”

Ellie mustered the man. He was broad and strongly built. The scars and bruising around his knuckles suggested a person prone to physical violence or at least often involved with it. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Yet his imposing stature demanded respect, all points indicating an alpha, one that did not bother to control the domineering scent despite it being basic politeness. After some seconds, she turned back to Dex, who observed her expectantly.

“I would follow him and wait until there are many people around, probably during rush hour when it’s cramped on the sidewalks, so my bumping into him would be less suspicious.”

“And if you would do it here?”

“I wouldn’t. Too dangerous”.

Dex hummed in approval.

“What would you do if he caught you?”

In the next half hour, Dex continued to ask her hypothetical questions about certain scenarios, sometimes nodding in approval, other times suggesting safer or more efficient alternatives. He asked her to assess other people’s dynamic and threat level, or identify potential weapons and hiding places she could use. It was surprisingly fun.

“You could use an ashtray”

“And then what? Not everyone has super aim.” The barb left her mouth before she realised it.

But Dex did not seem offended or even annoyed. He looked ... calculating. His stare even more intense than usual.

“You’re right. But aim is something you can improve.” He abruptly stood up, then raised an eyebrow expectantly when Ellie remained seated.

Flustered, Ellie scrambled out of her chair and followed him out of the cafe, struggling to keep up with his determined strides until he finally seemed to realise it and slowed down.

She trailed after him for several minutes, passing storefronts, turning corners, and weaving through alleys, the surroundings becoming more and more desolate and run-down, making her instinctively shuffle closer to Dex. Where was he leading her? Dex stopped in front of a decrepit-looking warehouse. Its interior was empty save for some wooden boxes stacked in a corner. The floor was littered with broken glass and torn pieces of cardboard. She stared at Dex questioningly.

He suddenly flung his arm in a powerful arc. Ellie spotted a glint in the air and then flinched at the dull. A small knife now buried in the soft wood, the blade perfectly piercing the ‘I’ of the ‘fragile’ sign. Ellie gasped in amazement.

She had seen Dex’s uncanny aim several times. The most notable of course during their first meeting, where his knives seemed to defy gravity and ricocheted from nearby surfaces to perfectly hit their targets. But during her time at his apartment, she had noticed his perfect aim several times. Some things were less awe-inspiring than others, such as throwing a shirt into the laundry basket or garbage into the trash without even looking, but still uncannily precise. She knew he was a professional, his moniker earned through and through, but his precision still left her in amazement.

Then Dex pointed the handle of another knife towards Ellie.

“Take it”

Ellie blinked in surprise but did as he told, gingerly taking the handle of the small knife in her hands. It was entirely made of metal, the handle just an extension of the blade. It had a strange sheen to it, as if it had been recently oiled. It was surprisingly heavy for its size. The steel cold to the touch.

Dex stepped behind her, grasping her shoulders and angling her body towards the stack of boxes. They had a small sun-shaped logo in the middle.

“Try to hit the logo.”

He released her arms, taking a step back. Ellie took a deep breath and chose a more stable stance. Gripping the point tightly, she drew her arm back and threw.

She missed. The knife was stuck at an odd angle in the right upper corner of the box. Nervously and slightly ashamed, Ellie turned to Dex, awaiting his verdict. Face betraying nothing, he just handed her another blade.

“Again.”

Missed.

“Again.”

Missed.

After watching her throw several times, Dex stopped her and went to collect the knives.

He cleared his throat.

“Not bad.”

Ellie snapped her eyes to him in surprise.

“All but one remained stuck in the wood. That’s better than most beginners,” He answered her unasked question.

Ellie blushed at the unexpected praise, desperately hoping the bad light would conceal it.

Dex interrupted her internal preening.

“However, you’re too tense in your upper body.” He pressed gently on the offending muscle. Ellie tried to relax, rolling her shoulders. When Dex was satisfied, he handed her a new knife.

“Again”

Over the course of the next few hours, Dex patiently adjusted Ellie’s stance several times, explained the different ways one can flick their wrist to achieve different throws, and when to choose which. It was a lot of information at once, but Dex was a surprisingly good teacher. He was perceptive. Almost too perceptive. He immediately noted even minute changes in her stance, or spotted increased tension in her shoulder blades or arm. The slightest hesitation was called out instantly until her movements were fluid. He was also patient, not once ridiculing her if her knife clattered pathetically to the ground or flew to a completely different place than where it ought to have. He made her practice with her non-dominant arm, as different levels of dexterity were allegedly ‘no excuse’. Because of-fucking-course he was ambidextrous!

The shadows grew longer, the afternoon sun slowly making its way towards the horizon. But they continued. When Dex finally decided that it was enough for a day, Ellie did not argue, already feeling the exertion of training catch up to her. She was exhausted, sweaty, and her arm felt as if it were on the brink of falling off. But her efforts had paid off. She had finally hit the logo three times in a row. Not perfectly, no. But an immense improvement from where she had started. Her eyes sparkled, a genuine smile gracing her lips, her scent of happiness unconsciously filling the empty warehouse.

-----

Thankfully, Dex had walked her back to the gym. Ellie shuddered at the thought of having to find her way back from that sketchy neighbourhood alone.

Outside of the gym, Ellie turned towards Dex, biting her lips and fidgeting. Eventually, she found her voice.

“Thank you.” She timidly glanced up at him. “For the cake, and the throwing lesson.”

Dex just stared at her, face unreadable. Uncertain, Ellie sent him a shy smile and turned towards the window of the storeroom, already fiddling with the broken latch.

“Wait.” Dex’s voice stopped her.

Ellie looked back at him, taken aback by his serious tone. Dex wore a strange expression, almost… vulnerable. However, the expression vanished so fast that she was not sure if she had imagined it. Then he slowly grabbed something from his inside pocket. It was a book. He brusquely pressed the tome into her hands. Ellie grabbed it by reflex. Before she could ask, Dex spoke again.

“Found it. Figured you might like it.” Dex’s face was impassive, appearing almost bored.

Ellie, taken aback, blinked at him in surprise, then studied the swirly font on the cover: LITTLE WOMEN by LOUISA MAY ALCOTT.

She stilled, gingerly cracking the book open. The satisfying sound made it obvious that the book was unused. Newly purchased. Her gaze spotted a small note written at the top right corner. In a neat, almost clinical handwriting stood: Property of Elenore Moore.

Ellie stared at it, frozen. Her fingers tightened around the book. Her eyes became misty.

She raised her head, her eyes searching Dex’s, her face full of emotion. Dex clenched his jaw at the sight and stoically avoided eye contact.

“You like it?” his voice was gruff.

Ellie nodded shakily, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle.

“Good.” With that, Dex strode briskly past her, obnoxiously ruffled her hair, and departed without another word.

Ellie gaped after him, her lip quivering slightly, her facial muscles actively losing their fight against her emotions.

-----

Curled up in her nest, Ellie sniffled and squeezed the book to her chest tightly. Before her exhaustion pulled her under, she dimly realized that for the first time in almost four years, she had been happy on her birthday.  

-----

Two weeks later…

He should probably visit the girl -no- Ellie again. Dex had been busy lately investigating why exactly Fisk had gone out of his way to purchase those warehouses. After some digging and some well-placed knives in some low-level criminals, it became clear to Dex that Fisk wants to establish a new epicentre of the fentanyl trade, while using his influence as a mayor to make authorities look the other way. Fisk probably wants to build up a new pillar of his empire before the steadily decreasing public approval comes to a boiling point, forcing him to resign. Who would have known that fascism would be unpopular with the public? Dex thought with derision.

Still, Dex mulled over what to do with the newly acquired information. It would definitely be very telling evidence for Fisk’s criminal activity and destabilise his reign over New York City if he chose to involve Murdock and his loyal lapdog, Page. It would probably be big enough of a strike to satisfy his vendetta with Fisk. But Vanessa, on the other hand, there would be only one solution for her betrayal.

His thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his phone. His burner phone. Dex frowned. Who would call him? He stared at the unknown number for some seconds before realisation dawned on him. Only one person has the number to that particular burner.

Ellie.

He immediately took the call, his muscles tense, jaw clenched.  

The moment he accepted the call, he heard Ellie’s panicked keens.

“Dex! Please, I need h-” Yelling interrupted her voice. Male. The call broke off, Ellie’s pained gasp the last thing he heard before the line went flat.

His alpha’s instincts roared through his system like a wildfire, drowning everything out except the realization that someone had hurt his little girl.

Dex’s sight went red, rage flooding his body.

Part 4 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter Kidfic!

Summary: The girl has mixed feelings about the strange alpha. At the same time, Dex finally realises he might be kind of a jerk.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ...

WC: 4.9k

crossposted on ao3

After that day, the girl behaved noticeably less jumpy. She stopped flinching whenever he made a sudden move, and the taut tension in her muscles usually present when he walked past too close had eased up slightly.

When she still had not changed her hideout after a week, it became apparent to Dex that their little game of hide and seek was now finished. While he knew that this was a gesture of trust, and his alpha rumbled in satisfaction at the realisation, Dex knew he would secretly miss it. The thrill of tracking her down, of proving to himself he could find his little girl the kid no matter where she was, and keep her safe, was a welcome change from how his hunts normally ended. The aim of keeping her safe a stark contrast to the trail of blood his visits usually left behind.

Still, it was nice that she finally started to tolerate his presence. Even if it was barely. She still hissed at him during almost every visit, his appearance usually graced with an annoyed groan. But Dex could tell that most of her hostile reactions were less and less based on actual fear but rather annoyance. The rather one-sided banter slowly transformed into a spirited back-and-forth. The girl no longer swallowed down her obvious irritation, but rather snapped back with quick-witted responses, emboldened by his lack of aggressive response.

Once when she had spotted his Walkman, she flat-out called him an ‘old man’, taunting him further by innocently asking him if he had served in Vietnam. The age digs were basically standard now, the slight greying of his hair not helping the matter. Another time, when he had offhandedly teased how her ‘hissy fits’ are quite soothing, she drily told him that maybe he should invest in a weighted blanket then, as they were allegedly quite popular with the anxious elderly. At least she had stopped her penchant for biting. For now.

Dex would usually roll his eyes in playful annoyance at her repeated comments over his age, sometimes flicking a coin at her forehead, making her yelp, always careful to measure his strength. It was surprisingly nice that someone talked to him like that. The only other social contacts he had were with his elderly neighbour who adored her ‘Tony’, and his ‘customers’ who nervously stated the terms of the hit, hiding their terror behind expensive suits and their sense of entitlement. It was a sign of trust, of familiarity. He frowned at the realisation that the last person who had joked with him in such a way had been Ray. He did not know what to think of that.

However, despite this newfound sense of familiarity, neither of them mentioned her illness or his affectionate behaviour. Both too stiff, too proud to admit it. Too scared of what it would mean. So they remained awkwardly silent over the matter.

Another thing they did not dare to address was how, from that day onwards, her stolen shirt was regularly exchanged for a freshly scented one. Dex told himself it was just a matter of basic hygiene, but deep down he knew it was just a flimsy excuse. It was definitely not because people usually left kids alone when they could smell the domineering scent of an alpha on them. Or because his scent gave her comfort.

That the girl’s sweet, soothing scent clung to the old shirts was definitely not a reason either.

----

Ellie was unsure what to think of the strange alpha.

He had been haunting her life for almost three months now. During that time, Ellie tried to pinpoint his motive, not understanding why he kept seeking her out. He did not try to touch her, nor did he make lewd or threatening comments. So that was off the table. He also did not ask her to do anything. No playing messenger or spy in his crusade against Fisk. Nothing. In fact, if anything, it seemed as if he visited her with the sole purpose of annoying her. It was strange. Unpredictable. Dangerous.

She remembered how he took down the AVTF members as if they were mere amateurs. How much he had relished in their murder, how terrified she had been when she detected his approaching rut in his domineering scent, how amused he seemed by her fear.

Ellie remembered his smile. Charming. Disarming. Wrong.

When he had scruffed her, it was as if her worst fears had come true. She had crumbled into his strong arms, her strength leaving her body as if someone had flipped a switch. She could neither move nor scream. The hormones triggered by the scruffing effectively robbed her of her agency by giving her body the illusion of safety, protection.

The dichotomy of her mind and her feelings had been horrible. She tried to fight against the lulling pull of the hormones, regain control over her paralyzed limbs, the thought of being at the complete mercy of an alpha in rut unbearable. But she was fighting a losing battle. The scent of pine and linen had invaded her nose, forcing her to submit further into her haze.

When she had woken up on the alpha’s chest, she had naturally freaked out. The alpha’s arm had been like a band of iron around her. Unmovable. Constricting. Yet despite his obvious strength, his hold was unexpectedly gentle. That observation held true for the rest of his behaviour. He did not yell at her or hurt her the slightest, even when she tried to bite him (again). Instead of scruffing her, the usual approach employed by alphas when dealing with hysterical omegas, he had just patiently held her until her energy had run out. Sprawled across his ridiculously broad chest, she could do nothing except inhale his scent. Despite her objectively distressing situation, it had calmed her. The musky pine, void of the scent of arousal, obliged her instincts to trust him, overriding the warnings of her rational mind entirely.

When he explained his reasoning behind her abduction, Ellie had been overwhelmed, the justification too weird, too outlandish for her to process. Who in their right mind would do that? Ellie could not read him at all. One time he was cocky and annoying, then suddenly caring, gently slathering cream onto her bruises. The emotional whiplash confused her.

Still, despite his occasional gentleness, the alpha frightened her. He obviously did not care about social rules or conventions. He could do anything to her, and she had no means to defend herself against any of it. The ease with which he was able to manhandle her, how effortlessly he caught her, was terrifying. When he had snatched her off the ground, he had not even been out of breath. As if the chase had been a casual stroll.

The bite had been a shock. Literally. The second his teeth had grazed her nape, it was as if an electric current had surged through her. As if her atoms had reoriented themselves, suddenly identifying the alpha not as the threat that he was but rather as pack. As family.

She had been choking on oxytocin, the hormone robbing her of all her mental faculties that screamed ‘DANGER’. Ellie only faintly remembered how the alpha had stumbled back to the apartment, before she had succumbed to her puppy heat again. It was as if she were floating, feeling warm and safe. Wanted. It had been a long time since she felt like that.

When she successfully escaped, the absence of his pursuit did not elicit the sentiment she had expected. Rather than being relieved, she felt strangely upset. The mere fact that he did not chase after her, despite being clearly more than capable of doing so, felt like rejection to her omega, which had whined in distress at the realisation. Ellie’s throat felt oddly tight, making it hard to breathe, almost forcing her to return, as her omega desperately yearned for the sense of safety his scent so easily evoked. Yearning for protection, comfort. Acceptance. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Ellie was not stupid. She knew who the alpha was. The bullseye symbol on his mask had been hard to miss. He was dangerous. A killer. A psycho, even. Despite his caring attitude during his rut, she knew this meant nothing. She was not special to him in any way. Just a means to an end. A tool. Now, with no evolutionary instinct keeping him from harming her, she feared what he would do. She knew where he lived, who he was. She was a liability. The realisation urged her to bring as much distance as possible between them. Before he finally came to the same conclusion.

Yet, despite how much the alpha frightened her, Ellie could not resist the urge to snatch a shirt and one of his ridiculously soft towels and cram them into her small bag before she fled. Later she rationalised the action as mere pettiness, an act of childish resistance. Deep down, however, she knew she was deluding herself.

When she had found him crouching in front of her nest in the flower shop almost two weeks after she had bolted, she had expected the worst. Panicked, she did the first thing that came to her mind: fight. Even if it was with an ugly garden gnome. It was incredibly stupid, arguably the dumbest thing she could have done, but Ellie was never good at doing the smart thing in stressful situations. When he had casually caught the gnome, mere inches before it would have collided with his face, she thought she was done for. That he would finally drop the charismatic mask and give her a taste of his brutality. But he didn’t. If anything, he found her attack amusing.

The alpha had been his usual cocky self, wandering around the backroom, touching her nest, as if he belonged there. He even dared to mock her for stealing his shirt, as if he had not literally kidnapped a child for basically the same reason.

Unfortunately, the alpha, or ‘Dex’ as he had introduced himself, decided to stick around. No matter where she hid, he always managed to track her down. The ease with which he found her was terrifying. A constant reminder of her vulnerable status.

During his visits, Dex was as annoyingly smug as he was during the lucid phases of his rut. He was always eager to push her buttons, trying to prompt a reaction. He did not seem to realise that every time her temper made her spit an insult at him, she was immediately overcome with terror. Afraid that he would finally snap. It was commonly known that alphas did not like it at all if someone challenged their authority. Some kid calling him a ‘nutjob’ would definitely fit into this category. She had seen the violence he was capable of, how nonchalant he was with his brutality. There were enough of his bloodbaths covered in the news.

Ellie felt increasingly helpless. No matter where she hid, he found her. No matter what she said, he ignored her. His condescending smile ever-present. He kept invading her space. Invading her life. And she could do nothing against it.

What made matters worse was his scent. It was horribly comforting. Every time she caught a sniff, her body tingled with warmth, her mind overcome with feelings of contentment and reassurance. It made her feel wanted. Cherished. That was the worst part of it. These feelings of familiarity, of comfort, while knowing she was no more than an amusing distraction to him.

And then she had fallen ill. At first, Ellie had thought it was just a common cold. Her throat had been scratchy, her sinuses slightly blocked. Not thinking more of it, she had continued her routines as normal. But in the evening the symptoms had suddenly worsened. A pounding headache forced her to sleep early, its severity robbing her of all her strength. The next morning, she had felt awful. Her limbs ached, her mind was fuzzy. She could barely move. So she just lay there, entirely vulnerable, waiting for the pain to pass.

His sudden voice had startled her then. She had not heard his approach. Dex had been frozen at the doorway, his expression strange, almost… panicked? No, she must have imagined that. He was probably disgusted by her germs, his obsession with order and cleanliness apparent during her time at his apartment.

Her theory barely held up ten seconds before Dex determinately strode across the room and pressed his palm to her forehead without missing a beat. His palm had been blessedly cool, his touch immediately alleviating a significant portion of her pain.

His anger had surprised her. Her omega had instinctively submitted itself, baring her neck at him. Ellie dimly realised that she had never seen Dex mad. Frustrated, sure, but those were usually accompanied by an annoyed roll of his eyes, or a tired sigh. But never genuinely angry.

When he had suddenly risen to his feet, Ellie had needed all her strength to suppress her omega’s pitiful keen, which had interpreted the movement as the alpha’s intention to leave, to reject her. The concern was wiped away when he had enveloped her in his jacket. He would come back. For his jacket, at the very least. Ellie had unconsciously curled into the clothing. Dex’s scent surrounded her in a cocoon of comfort.

She had not expected his care. His worry. Even less that he stayed with her until she had fallen asleep. Her omega had been purring like mad, happy that the alpha had provided. Had kept her safe.

Naturally, they had not talked about it.

However, after that day, she stopped changing her hideouts. There was no reason to do so anymore. It was now clear to her that Dex was not a threat. A weirdo, for sure, but ultimately harmless. At least for her. Besides, she had a feeling he would find her no matter where she hid.

----

The alpha had not visited her for several days. It made her strangely nervous. Did something happen? Did the AVTF get him? Ellie had noticed that there had been an uptick in AVTF patrols in the last couple of days. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of her worry. Suddenly another thought struck her.  

Or did he finally bore of her? Ellie violently suppressed her omega’s keen at the thought. What does it matter? She did not need him.

At least that’s what Ellie had thought five days ago. Two days later, her puppy heat had come prematurely.

The horrible cramping had left her withering in pain on the dusty floor of the attic. The waves of hormones caused a pounding headache that left her unable to move. Even in her rare lucid phases, the pain remained, her energy barely enough to eat some of her emergency stash. It was agony. Her instincts desperately screamed for the comfort of her pack. But no one came.

The burner phone lay discarded next to her. The battery was down. She had forgotten to charge it.

In tears, Ellie thought longingly back to her last heat. How the pain had diminished to a mere discomfort the moment Dex’s scent had enveloped her. How comforting the rumbling of his alpha had been, how easily his fingers on her scalp had made her melt into a puddle of contentment. Her omega whined, clutching the alpha’s shirt to her nose, desperate for relief, but the scent was too faint to alleviate her pain.

She whimpered in pain, curling up to a tight ball, rocking back and forth. The primitive part of her mind now increasingly convinced that the alpha had abandoned her. Like all did.

A sob escaped her.

She wanted her alpha.

----

Dex had arrived back in New York City right when he started to feel the telltale tingle of his oncoming rut. Over the last week, Fisk had increased his anti-vigilante measures, nearly doubling the patrols of AVTF members, which had kept Dex busy. The sudden uptick had left Dex suspicious. Fisk must be up to something big. So he had scouted out several of his new properties. They had been newly acquired through several intermediaries. Finding and scouting all of them took much longer than he had anticipated. At least the lead had been promising.

Still, despite his progress in levelling the scales, Dex could feel himself getting restless, too used to visiting the girl and inhaling her scent. He managed to keep the static to a minimum with the shirt he had exchanged right before he had left, but still, it had not been enough. His thoughts had drifted back to her often in quiet moments. Was she alright? Did she eat?

Needless to say, he was relieved to be back in New York City. Despite the late hour, Dex drove straight to the public library, his alpha eager to check up on her. He was curious if she would comment on his absence.

What he did not expect was the overwhelming scent of a young omega in heat. He clenched his jaw, scowling at the offending smell. Damn it. He had given her a burner phone for a reason!

Dex pushed his frustration down, taking a deep breath. Now was not the time. His alpha howled to find her. To comfort her. To scent her.

It did not take long to locate the girl. Her painfully sweet scent, desperately calling for pack, for him, led him like a beacon to a stack of boxes. The poor thing had squeezed herself into a tight crevice, curled up on herself, whimpering. It was a pitiful sight.

Before he had arrived at the library, Dex had wrecked his brain on how to convince the girl to come with him this time around. He had wondered if he had to scruff her again or if she would come willingly, which was, admittedly, improbable, but miracles happen. Turns out his mulling had been unnecessary. The moment the girl had registered his scent, her head had snapped towards him like a bloodhound, eyes dilated and breath stuttering. Before he could give her a teasing grin, the kid had already shimmied out of her hiding place and thrown herself at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her behaviour, his arms automatically drawing her small frame into a tight embrace. She must have been quite out of it if she voluntarily initiated physical contact with him. Shushing her awkwardly, he picked her up and positioned her face on his scent gland. The reaction was imminent. The kid relaxed instantly, practically melting into his body, a stuttering purr starting in her chest. Dex was admittedly a bit overwhelmed by the situation. No one had ever been happy to see him, at least never to such an extent. Especially not her. The way the girl instinctively found comfort in his presence made his chest feel oddly warm.

Back at the apartment, Dex could feel her pheromones affecting him. His alpha was satisfied that he finally could hold his kid in his arms again, urging him to bring her straight to his bed and bury her in soft materials. Dex resisted, but barely. She must have been in her heat for some time, her skin sticky with sweat, her clothes smelling of distressed omega. No way in hell that scent touches his bed.

Determined, Dex stepped into his narrow bathroom, absentmindedly rubbing circles on the girl’s back who clung to him like Velcro. It took a moment to pry her fingers from his shirt, but after some encouragement, he finally managed to get her off. Not wanting to feel like a creep, Dex placed her into the tub fully clothed and turned on the shower. The water drenched her within seconds, the cool temperature snapping her out of her haze enough to make her hiss in outrage at the onslaught of water. At his amused huff, she snapped her head towards him, finally noticing his presence. The moment she recognised his hulking frame crouching next to her, the girl narrowed her eyes at him and growled.

Dex smirked, ruffling her hair playfully in the way he knew she hated.

“Nice to see you too.” He was graced with another growl and an angry swat at his hand.

Smiling softly at the familiar sight, Dex stood up, staring down at her petulant expression. “Clean yourself up. I will leave new clothes by the sink.” Before she could come to the idea of throwing the soap at him, he closed the shower curtain with a self-satisfied smirk and walked back to his room.

After a slight hesitation, he chose one of his shirts again and a random pair of her sweatpants. She had a meagre selection of clothes, he noticed. Maybe he should buy her some new ones, he thought absentmindedly, until he forcefully reminded himself that this was not his responsibility.

He placed the clothes as indicated. Thankfully, the girl at least did what he had told her to, her wet clothes creating a puddle on his bathroom floor.

When she emerged, basically swimming in his t-shirt and giving him a nasty glare while he worked in the kitchen, it felt like déjà vu. For a long time, she did not say anything, until…

“What’s your deal?” Direct. He liked people who did not beat around the bush. Even though that does not mean he will do the same courtesy.  

“What do you mean?” he taunted. She did not dignify his obvious dig with a response. She stared at him mulishly.

“I’m having my rut again.” Dex eventually admitted.

“And?” she asked petulantly.

Dex pushed himself from where he was leaning on the kitchen counter, slowly stalking towards her. He could see how she fought the instinct to back away. Standing her ground, she glared at him stubbornly. Now standing in her personal space, her quickened breath was painfully obvious, the slight uncertainty hidden behind her glare revealing her nervousness. He leaned down to her eye level, giving her a condescending smile he knew she despised.

“I guess I need my weighted blanket again.” He smiled at the slight confusion on her face and her following indignant realisation. It was just too easy.

Straightening himself with a self-satisfied huff, Dex became more serious.

“Same as last time. You keep my rut in check, and I help you through your puppy heat.”

“Do I even have a choice?” she said sullenly, seemingly barely suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Dex’s alpha did not like her moody attitude at all, his impatience growing. Dex himself, still tired from his stakeout and frustrated that she had not called him, stared down at her, eyes unexpectedly hard.

“Would you rather I put you back on the streets? Who knows, maybe there is an alpha that has not yet smelled you.” Dex taunted, narrowing his eyes at her in a challenge. He was dimly aware that reminding her of her vulnerability might be a bit cruel, but it was necessary.

At that, the girl’s breath hitched, smell turning sour. She stared at the floor, trembling fists balled in the oversized shirt. Then… she shook her head. The action small. Vulnerable.

Dex nodded, his alpha satisfied. “Good.”

He sauntered back to the kitchen. When he threw a look over his shoulder, the girl still stood rooted at the same spot. Shaking, eyes fixed to the ground. Dex could smell her oncoming distress from where he stood. She looked small. Fragile. There was a twinge of guilt in his chest. He did not like it. Her body language looked awfully familiar to before.

With the most condescending tone he could muster, Dex drawled: “Now be a good girl and set the table.”

He pointed vaguely towards the cabinets where he had stacked the plates. Maybe her anger would rip her out of her distress, just like during her last heat.

It didn’t. The girl flinched. Then, mechanically, she shuffled to the kitchen, taking out the utensils without a word, eyes still cast downwards, shoulders hunched. The distressed scent still clung heavily to her.

Dex clenched his jaw. That was not what he had intended. He just wanted her to stop being so difficult, not to make her afraid.

During their meal, he continued his attempt to rage-bait her into reacting, into snapping at him as she had during his visits. It had not the desired effect. Instead of hissing or even scowling, Dex observed how the girl swallowed down her responses, the corners of her mouth pulling slightly downwards, frustrated tears gathering in her eyes. At their sight, Dex stopped, suddenly unsure what to do. Totally out of his depth.

They ate the eggs in silence.

Dex could feel the itching under his skin, urging him to snatch her up and comfort her. To get rid of the horrible scent of fear. But he kept himself in check. It now dawned on him that in the last couple of weeks he had been basically bullying a 12-year-old frightened child. Constantly reminding her how she had no means of protecting herself from him or other alphas. Totally at the mercy of his whims. He frowned, his hands tightening into fists. What a new low.

Placing their washed plate onto the drying rack, Dex sighed and herded the girl’s rigid form towards the bed. She stood there as if she awaited her execution, not moving a muscle. Dex did not know what to do. People skills are not really his repertoire.

He ultimately scruffed her, picking her limp body up in his arms and cradling her to his chest while he sat with his back against the headboard. His rut was not yet here, making the affair a bit awkward for him. He rubbed his cheek mechanically on the crown of her head, scenting her. Holding her tightly, his thumbs drew lazy patterns on her skin. Her fear scent had dissipated, but he was under no illusion. He knew that was probably only because of the hormonal reaction to the scruffing.

He glanced at her face. The scruffing had not had the desired effect. He had hoped it might draw her again into her puppy heat, making her pliable and sweet, but the mixture of fear, exhaustion, and desperation in her eyes told him another story. She was slowly regaining her agency, her body becoming tenser by the minute. Yet despite her regained control over her body, she did not move. Did not dare to. Just letting him do what he wanted. Lying stiffly against him. Defeated. She must really believe that he would let her at the mercy of some alphas if she made him angry enough. The realisation was like a punch in the gut.

He stayed like this for several minutes, holding her gently and gathering his thoughts.

Then, Dex finally broke the silence, his chin set on top of her head, staring stoically forward.

“I would not leave you undefended against some alphas.” he paused for a second. “I’m not that much of a jerk.”

Dex did not apologise. Just stating a fact. He would not have let her leave in any case before he had finished his rut. Yet he felt the girl listening, holding her breath, still awfully tense.

He placed his hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles, trying to exude comforting pheromones.

“I will not kick you out to fend for yourself in your heat.” Dex stopped in his movements, slightly squeezing her to his chest, pressing his scratchy cheek onto the crown of her head. “Even if you bite me again.”

That was enough. The girl choked out a sob, her hand fisting into his shirt. Dex squeezed her closer on instinct, shushing nonsense into her ears and rubbing his wrists up and down her back. Scenting her. Claiming her, while her body was wrecked with sobs. He felt a wet patch forming on his shirt where she had pressed her face into it. Dex ignored it, too focused on the nurturing feelings flooding his body at the sound of her distress. His alpha rumbled in an attempt at reassurance. It was as if a dam had broken, her uncertainty and fear, accumulated over weeks of being homeless, of being vulnerable, on her own, finally breaking free. He held her through it, his steady presence enough comfort to help her channel these feelings. Finally being able to express them. To feel them.

After some minutes, her cries had become weaker, her breathing calming down. She now lay relaxed against his chest, her body jerking with the occasional hiccup.

She sniffled.

“You’re such a jerk.”

It made him huff out a laugh, the wave of relief dissipating the strange pressure in his chest. Good. She’s back to normal.

Part 3 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter Kidfic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ...

Summary: The girl is not Dex’s responsibility. Unfortunately, his instincts are not on the same page.

WC: 4.3k

crossposted on ao3

Despite having regained her lucidity, the kid did not try to escape again. Her previous attempt had made it clear that it was futile to run from an alpha in rut, especially when already weakened by her heat. So she sat there, stabbing the pancakes as if they had personally insulted her entire bloodline.

Dex sat across from her, watching. It was strange seeing another person in his space. Sitting at his kitchen table, wearing his clothes, smelling faintly of his body wash, eating the food he made. It was almost... nice.

Later, as he was doing the dishes, the girl cowered on his small couch, glaring daggers at him. He ignored her, focused on tidying up his kitchen. At least until he felt the telltale tingle of his returning rut. He checked his watch. Forty-five minutes. His windows of lucidity were marginally longer than during his regular ones. Convenient.

Dex had barely time to put the plates onto the drying rack when the haze overtook him again. His eyes darkened, the room filled with the domineering scent of alpha. The girl’s scent flooded his nostrils, revealing her nervousness, her apprehension. His alpha did not like that at all.

Dex’s eyes zeroed in on her like a bloodhound. The girl stiffened at his sudden attention, muscles tense, ready to bolt if needed. Like a predator, Dex stalked across the room, intent on gathering the girl to his chest and aggressively scenting her. To rid her of the awful fear stench. A snarl greeted him, followed by a kick directed at his stomach in a desperate attempt to keep him at a distance. But her action was futile.

Smoothly grabbing her leg, Dex pulled. With a feral hiss, the girl was thrown off balance, leaving her sprawled on her back across the couch. Before she could scramble away, Dex dropped next to her, easily pinning her in place with his body, mindful of not laying his whole weight on her. She hissed in outrage, trying to push him off, but he was like a slab of concrete. Unmoving. Unimpressed by her attempts.

His alpha, impatient with her lack of cooperation, ultimately scruffed her, forcing her back into her puppy heat.

This back-and-forth lasted around two days. During that time, the pair repeatedly fell back into their instincts. Dex’s alpha went back to stalking his apartment for threats, checking and double-checking the locks on his windows, desperate to assure his kid’s safety. The fits of protective paranoia were usually followed by periods of intense affection, clutching the kid tightly to his chest, rubbing his scent glands over her back soothingly, rumbling at her contented purrs. The girl was basically glued to his side, unable to bear the loss of contact, nose pressed closely to his neck and purring as if her life depended on it. Her scent made him feel at peace, his shifted priorities allowing him to shortly forget his desire for vengeance.

During their short breaks of lucidity, Dex made sure she ate and properly hydrated herself. He would reapply the soothing cream onto her bruises. His fussing – he would rather die than admit to such a thing – was at first met with resistance, his touch violently rejected. At least until her omega folded like a wet paper towel at the scent of the alpha’s disapproval. She then sat stoically on the kitchen counter, pointedly avoiding eye contact and let him tend to her injuries.

Dex was taken aback by the wave of sudden nurturing feelings her presence elicited. Why care if she ate worryingly small portions? She ate. He was being decent enough of a host. Why bother caring about more? She was not his to worry about. Dex concluded that his rut must affect his mind more strongly than he anticipated.

-----

His rut and her heat had finally ended the day before.

The difference between this rut and all the others was impossible to ignore. Usually, once the haze lifted, Dex was hit with humiliation and disgust. This time the aftermath of his rut was strikingly different. Dex was exhausted, sure, but also oddly satisfied. At peace. The exhaustion comparable to the satisfying strain of his muscles after a good workout.

Nevertheless, Dex was unsure what his next course of action should be. His instincts, still influenced by the remnants of his rut, he rationalised, urged him to let her stay. No. To make her stay. To protect her. To provide.

The emotions frustrated him. They weren’t his. They were just an evolutionary response. Nothing more. He will not let them control him. Besides, he is a wanted vigilante. A terrorist even, according to state news. He did not need a kid to look after. She is a distraction. A weakness.

Ultimately, his stoic need for control won his internal battle. When Dex visited his elderly neighbour, he conveniently left the apartment door slightly open. Upon his return, the girl and her bag were gone. Dex did not give in to the alpha’s demand to chase after her. Resolute in his decision. Besides, he would find her easily enough when his next rut was coming around.

Still, the girl’s absence was apparent everywhere his gaze lingered. His bed, currently a sorry excuse of a nest, towels and shirts interwoven in an organised mess, looked wrong without its purring and occasionally hostile occupant.

Usually, such disorder would destabilise his mood, forcing him into an obsessed cleaning frenzy until the static abated. Until order reigned again. Until he had reasserted his control. This time, however, the obsessive itch was strangely absent. Instead, he gazed at the messy spot, almost fond. Feeling calm. At peace. He blinked, snapping out of these strange feelings of domesticity. The towels would have to go. Routine must be reestablished.

As he tidied up the apartment, chucking his old clothes in the laundry, a sudden grin spread across his face. One of his shirts and a towel were missing. It seemed as if he was not the only one having mixed feelings about the arrangement.

-----

Days passed, and Dex’s life went back to normal.

He returned to his usual routines: tracking down Fisk’s men and occasionally accepting some hitman jobs to stock up his funds. However, whenever a quiet moment presented itself, his thoughts drifted inevitably back to the girl. It had been a week since she had left the apartment, a week since he knew she was alright. Unharmed. Alive.

Some days after his rut, a different itch had roused under his skin, his alpha urging him to find her, scent her, protect her. His kid. Dex feared it had been a mistake to bite her. It was as if a switch had been flipped deep in his brain, his instincts insisting that she was his. His responsibility. His to protect. Dex desperately hoped these annoying instinctual sentiments would abate with time and distance.

They didn’t.

Rather, they became more and more insistent. The towels, which he, much to his annoyance, was unable to put in the wash, had lost her faint scent. His mind became restless again. Sleep evaded him. His attacks became sloppy. His focus wavered. It was unacceptable.

After nearly two weeks, Dex finally gave in to the itch and tracked her down.

It turned out the girl had been staying in some flower shop, slipping in and out of its backroom through a small window with a broken latch. The flower shop was a smart choice. The flowers’ natural perfume effectively concealed her puppy scent, keeping her from being discovered.

The first time he saw her deftly climb out the window, wholly ignorant of her observer, Dex was hit with an overwhelming sense of relief. She was alive. She was ok.

However, despite his alpha’s insistence, Dex did not approach her. Why would he? He knew she was alright now. That was enough. Besides, what would he even say?

So instead, he fell back into old patterns. Every time the urge to see her became too insistent, the desire to scent her too demanding, he would make a detour from his usual business to assure himself of her well-being.

It did not take Dex long to realise that the girl was quite clever. Her choice of hiding place already suggested as much, but over the weeks he followed her around, his hunch was repeatedly proven correct. During the day, the girl rarely stayed at the flower shop, leaving right before the owners arrived. It was too busy, the risk of discovery too great. Instead, she roamed public libraries, malls, laundromats, or museums. Always somewhere public. Safe.

During Rush Hour, however, she slipped into the crowd, pretending to be a schoolgirl on her way home. Tired. Sweet. Definitely not the experienced pickpocket that she was. When he had seen her slipping her hand into someone’s bag and deftly extracting their wallet without the victim none the wiser, he almost missed it.

The girl was perceptive, choosing her victims carefully. She seemed to sense shifts in the atmosphere almost immediately, adapting to them with practiced ease and steering clear of trouble. It was no longer surprising that she had managed to survive on the streets for so long. She had adapted to her circumstances, had created her own routines to keep herself safe. His alpha rumbled, pride blooming in his chest.

Still, despite her clever patterns and routines, she was too thin to be considered healthy. Her hollowed cheeks and gaunt expression upset Dex’s alpha, especially when he noticed how she almost exclusively bought reduced-for-clearance items at the local supermarket. Her clothes also had definitely seen better days and seemed to barely protect her against the elements. The sight made his jaw clench, but he did not intervene. She was not his to worry about.

-----

This ‘arrangement’ lasted for several weeks. It had been enough, until it wasn’t.

His sleep had improved after he started watching her regularly, but ‘improved’ did not necessarily mean ‘good’. He still spent most nights tossing and turning, waking repeatedly throughout the night, his thoughts running. It affected his mood and his efficiency, his performance now far below the standard he demanded of himself.

Frustrated, his mind kept circling back to the same thing: her scent. The strange calm that settled over him whenever she was nearby. The way the constant tension in his neck seemed to melt away. The impact her scent had was frustrating. Irritating.

Effective.

So when Dex observed her slip out of the flower shop’s backroom window at precisely the same time she always did, he made his decision. She usually visited a cheap rec center in the mornings, taking advantage of their showers before they became too busy. He would have plenty of time.

He waited until she disappeared around the corner before crossing the alley. The lock on the back door was cheap. It opened after only a few seconds beneath practiced hands.

Dex slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind him. Inside, he was greeted with the smells of flowers and wet soil. But underneath, barely noticeable if one did not search for it, he could vaguely distinguish her scent. Immediately, some of the pressure behind his eyes eased. His alpha rumbled, content with finally smelling her scent again.

The backroom was quite small, with several shelves full of flowers and garden supplies. It was dim inside, the only light source the small window and a grimy lightbulb that flickered to life, which seemed only a small electrical fluctuation away from dying.

Like a bloodhound, Dex stalked the shelves, searching for the scent’s source. But he did not spot anything remotely resembling a nest. Furrowing his brows, he came to a stop before some stacks of packed garden soil stacked on the lowest shelf. Her scent was definitely the strongest there. Where was-? Then he noticed a small gap. Lowering himself into a crouch, Dex grabbed the bags and unceremoniously shoved them out of the way, as if they were mere paperweights, revealing a narrow space.

He was met with a sad excuse of a nest, consisting of old towels and some clothes. The space was cramped and dark, her only light source a small flashlight next to the nest.

Nevertheless, a self-satisfied smile graced Dex’s lips as he noticed his vanished towel and shirt carefully woven into her nest. Not able to resist, Dex grasped his old shirt, bringing it to his nose. It was saturated with her smell, his own now merely a faint imprint. He inhaled deeply. The buzzing in his head quieted almost instantly.

Dex stared at the shirt, suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge to scent it. To add his scent to her nest. To mark her as under his protection. But he couldn’t. The girl would notice it immediately and panic, maybe even prompt her to leave her safe hiding place for another. One that might be less secure.

His internal dilemma was interrupted by a startled gasp. Dex blinked in surprise, having instantly recognised her voice. He had not expected her to be back so soon. She usually spent about forty-five minutes at the rec center. He had timed it. Did she forget something?

He sighed, annoyed about her breach of routine. Meeting her was not the plan, but now he might as well enjoy it.

Slowly, Dex turned around, a smug smile on his face. He had not necessarily expected to receive a warm welcome, but he definitely did not expect the sight of a garden gnome sailing towards him with deadly precision. By reflex, Dex snatched it out of the air before it could make contact. With an amused huff, Dex raised his eyebrows in playful disapproval.

“That’s not very nice.”

The girl snarled in response, clutching her small plastic bag to her chest, as if its presence would protect her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was hostile, but her scent betrayed her apprehension. Her eyes tracked his every move. Analysing. Assessing.

Ignoring it for now, he held his hands up to his side in a placating manner. Teasing her. As if his lack of obvious weapon would make him any less threatening.

The girl swallowed, staring at him with suspicion and wariness. She shakily repeated her question.

“I was just stopping by. Was curious if you were still alive.” Might as well tell her the truth, or at least a half-truth. He doubted admitting that his alpha ‘missed’ her would be well received.

She blinked at his response, visibly thrown off.

“Well, I am. So go away.”

His lips twitched in response. She was as prickly as ever.

Dex then noticed how her gaze flickered to the shirt he had still loosely grasped in his hand. His lips widened into a teasing grin.

“Actually, I was also looking for one of my shirts. Wanted to ask if you’d seen it. But I guess I have answered my question already.”

The reaction was immediate, her face changing from pale to beet red, wholly embarrassed. She broke eye contact, fidgeting nervously. His grin widened.

 “Aw, did you miss me? I’m touched.”

“Fuck off!”

He smiled. It was just too easy to rile her up.

His attention was drawn to her small plastic bag. It was full of food labelled reduced-to-clear. Dex pursed his lips, not liking the view. Before he realised it, he nodded towards the bag.

“You know, that’s not very good for you.”

The girl clutched it harder to her chest as if she expected him to snatch it from her.

“That’s none of your business!” she hissed at him, defensive.

“I guess,” he hummed and dropped the topic. Irritated with his slip-up. Why did he say that? She is not his responsibility.

“H-How did you know where I was staying?” Her voice was uncertain, barely suppressed fear bleeding through her bravado.

“I have my resources.” At her frown, he added, “Relax. The flower shop was a good idea. Your scent is barely noticeable. Doubt anyone else could find you.”

She blushed slightly at the unexpected praise, then immediately tried to hide it behind her trademark glower. Silence fell again.

As if faced with a spooked horse, Dex slowly rose to his feet and made his way across the room. The girl’s body went rigid, frozen like a deer in the headlights, staring at him with her big eyes. With mocking nonchalance, he placed the ugly garden gnome back on the shelf right next to her, his arm almost touching. His large frame towered over her small one, her head only reaching his chest. Her scared scent invaded his nose. It took every ounce of control to not give in to his alpha’s demand to snatch her into a bone-crushing embrace. For some seconds, nothing happened. Alpha and omega staring at each other.

Then, Dex gave her a teasing smile and pressed his shirt in her hands.

“I’ll see you around.” Not a threat. A promise.

-----

After that day, Dex stopped by semi-regularly, usually once or twice a week. The girl was already aware of his presence, so he might as well quieten the incessant itch and give in to his alpha’s demand for interaction.

But of course, when he went back to the flower shop two days later, the girl was nowhere to be found. Dex could not say he was surprised. During their time at the apartment, he had learned she seemed virtually incapable of making anything easy.

It never took him long to find her. Every time she moved her hiding place again, Dex would spend a few hours searching before he had located whatever place she had deemed suitable to sleep at. Abandoned storerooms, attics, construction sites - her choices were clever, but no match for him.

He would usually be waiting for her to return from her daily roaming, casually leaning against a wall, secretly eager for her reaction. They rarely disappointed: The first time he had visited after the flower shop, she had thrown a knife at him the moment she had spotted his silhouette in the dim lighting. It had missed him, but narrowly. The fact that she unknowingly chose his M.O. was endearing. Picking up the small blade, Dex twirled it with practiced ease. With a condescending smirk, he informed her that her grip was off, which was met with furious growling. Needless to say, she did not appreciate his comments.

Dex rarely stayed long. Just enough to confirm that she was safe and to provoke at least one hostile reaction. Even if her scent was soured by fear, irritation, or outright aggression, the underlying note of her omega abated the restlessness of his mind.

Occasionally, Dex brought some takeout, claiming her scrawny frame was simply too pitiful to ignore. He would refuse to leave until she ate, shoving the food towards her as if he was feeding a feral cat. The girl’s suspicion was obvious, prompting him to roll his eyes. As if he would need to drug her if he suddenly decided to harm her. Still, watching her begrudgingly eat pleased his alpha, often triggering an involuntary rumbling. He had provided. Kept her healthy.

Despite all of this, his alpha still urged him to narrow the seemingly unbreachable distance between them even more. To scent her. Breathe in that familiar scent right at the source. After his rut, Dex was painfully conscious of how touch-starved he had been. Still was. The awkward cheek pats of his elderly neighbour hardly counted, usually making him internally cringe. Dex loathed to admit it, but the affectionate touch during his rut had been nice. Grounding. So different to his usual interactions.

But Dex resisted. He was not blind. It was clear that under all that snarling and growling, the girl was terrified of his intentions. His rut had passed, so why was he sticking around if not for an ulterior motive? So he restrained himself. It was one thing to touch her during his rut, where his scent made his platonic intentions clear, but a wholly different thing to seek her out while fully in control of himself. It felt threatening. Invasive.

Some days, especially after an altercation with the AVTF, Dex contented himself with just watching her as before. His adrenaline would be too high, his scent too dominant. Too threatening. Also, his alpha was always more present after violence. Too much in control. Thus, Dex did not dare to go near her, not trusting his alpha to behave. So he watched. Waiting for the feeling to pass.

Throughout the weeks, the girl was as hostile as she had been during the lucid phases of her heat. During almost every encounter, the girl made it clear that his visits were unwelcome. That she wanted him to “stop bothering her”. He didn’t. Couldn’t.

Whenever the static in his head became too loud, his focus too scrambled, Dex found himself seeking her out. Her scent soothing. Her rage a welcome distraction.

Without noticing, visiting her had become an integral part of his routines. The ‘distraction’ now an essential strategy to keep him grounded.

-----

Dex knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the musty-smelling attic of the public library. He had not muffled his steps on his way up, and the door had creaked obnoxiously when he pushed it open, yet no groan of annoyance, no flying item greeted him. It was quiet.

He spotted the girl in a dusty corner, curled up in her nest of towels, still half-asleep despite it being nearly midday. At first, he could barely make out her face in the dim lighting, but when his eyes had finally adjusted, he noticed her skin’s unnatural pallor. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Her brows were furrowed, but not in the familiar scowl she usually graced him with. Then she coughed. Violently. The kind that shook the whole body, leaving one exhausted and hoarse.

“You’re sick.” The realisation made his stomach clench anxiously.

The girl startled at the sound of his voice, but the reaction was slow, lethargic, as if her mind took a moment to relay the message to her heavy limbs and for them to translate it into movement.

She cracked open an eye and groaned as she finally recognised his towering silhouette at the doorway.

“I’m not in the mood.” Her voice sounded hoarse, fatigued.

Dex’s jaw tightened, not liking how she sounded at all. Without answering, he crossed the attic in a few strides and crouched beside her nest. He placed his hand on her forehead without hesitation. The girl froze for a moment. The last time he had been this close, touched her this intimately, had been during her heat. Then, her eyes fluttered shut, tension leaving her body minutely.

Her forehead was too warm. Damn it.

“You’re running a fever.”

“Really? Haven’t noticed.” She mumbled, eyes still closed.

The quip fell flat. Dex closed his eyes briefly. Breathed in. Out. Trying to keep his composure.

“Since when?”

She blinked up at him. His strained tone took her aback.

“Yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Dex gritted his teeth. He tried to keep his voice measured. Controlled. Keep his alpha’s anger at bay.

“Why haven’t you gone to the pharmacy?”

The omega immediately picked up on his poorly concealed agitation. Her shoulders hunched, her gaze dropped. Instinctively, she curled into herself and bared her neck in submission. She dimly realized that this was the first time she had seen the alpha angry.

“Can’t,” she whispered.

Dex frowned.

“Can’t?”

“Too young.”

She swallowed.

“They’ll call the police.”

Silence settled over the attic.

Dex breathed in. Out.

There was a pharmacy less than a block away.

Without a word, Dex abruptly rose to his feet. The movement made her glance at him in exhausted confusion. Staring down at her, he suddenly noticed the faint tremors running through her body. Wordlessly, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her. The girl immediately pulled it closer around herself, unconsciously burrowing into the heavy fabric. He was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu at the sight of her curled-up frame under his jacket. Small. Trusting.

He left brusquely.

The pharmacist must have noticed he was not in the mood for small talk, basically shoving the desired medication at him. Fifteen minutes later, Dex was back, armed with Tylenol, NyQuil, and several bottles of water.

The girl was barely awake when he returned.

“Sit up.”

The girl groaned. Dex stared down at her, his lips pressed into a flat line. After a moment, she obeyed. The fever must have robbed her of whatever energy she usually dedicated to arguing. Or maybe she accurately sensed that her resistance would not be well received.

He pressed the pills into her hand.

“Take it.” His voice left no room for objections.

The girl stared at him, slightly bewildered but eventually followed his order and swallowed them down with small sips of water.

She fell asleep soon afterwards.

Dex remained where he was, watching the steady rising and falling of her chest. He brushed away a damp strand of hair from her face. Again, he could see her relaxing, unconsciously leaning into his touch, a soft sound leaving her lips. Dex froze, overwhelmed by the fact that she found comfort in his presence.

So he stayed. Continuing to card his hands through her hair. Keeping watch over her like an oversized guard dog.

-----

When she woke up several hours later, the alpha had already gone. Next to her were several water bottles and protein bars, stacked in perfectly aligned pyramids, a stash of cold medicine that would easily last her a year, and even a small portion of porridge he must have gotten from the breakfast place across the street. Her towels smelled of him, freshly scented. She burrowed her nose into them, guiltily seeking comfort in the strange alpha’s scent.

Placed obnoxiously obvious on top of her bag was a small burner phone. There was a note on it: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.

Part 2 of my Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter interacting with a kid fic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ...

Summary: Dex finds himself responsible for a young omega he has no idea how to care for. Unfortunately for him, the girl has no intention of making things easy.

WC: 3.7k

crossposted on ao3

Dex’s trek back to his apartment was disappointingly uneventful. No swarms of AVTF members flooding the area. No screeching of tires or ringing of sirens echoing between the buildings. The massacre must still be unknown to their higher-ups.

The kid was lost in the haze of her heat, now clinging to him willingly, desperate for comfort. Even if it was from a wanted murderer.

Thankfully, it was too late for anyone to still be awake at his apartment block. He did not have the patience to invent some excuse for why he suddenly had a kid with him. Even less one in heat.

Finally at his apartment, Dex attempted to carefully lower the girl onto the crisply made bed. Attempted. The girl did not let go of him. With a pitiful whine, she pressed her face against his neck, her hands fisted into the blue Kevlar of his suit. He huffed in mild annoyance. If he wanted, he could rip her off effortlessly, but the thought made him oddly uneasy. Ceasing his attempt to pry her off him, Dex instead lowered himself onto the chair at his small kitchen table and took out his phone to do some additional research on how to deal with his situation. The girl was still clinging to his front stubbornly. 

A quick internet search told him everything he needed. Puppy heats usually lasted a bit shorter than average heats and ruts. During their heat, pups need near-constant body contact and a lot of scenting to alleviate their discomfort. As during normal heats, there will be some windows of lucidity, but most of the time they will be incredibly clingy and sleepy, needing affection and comfort.

Dex sighed. It seemed he would need to play nice for the foreseeable future. But still, when he read that 'their parent’s rut or heat will adapt to the length of the pup’s cycle, their need for a sexual partner exchanged with an obsessive need to keep their family safe', he grinned, relishing in the fact that he was able to avoid this annoying aspect of his dynamic. Two days of house arrest and allowing some kid to hug him are much more enticing than the pain, rage, and horrible loss of control he had to endure during his unmedicated ruts. 

During his research, Dex absentmindedly drew circles on the girl’s back, spreading his scent on her, secretly enjoying the slight purr emanating from the kid. It was a strange feeling, being the cause of something as pure as purring. Strange but nice.

Chin propped on the kid’s head, he browsed through articles aimed at parents dealing with freshly presented omega children. He felt a bit ridiculous scrolling through some mommy blogs in the middle of the night, still in his full tactical gear with a kid stuck to him like a piece of Velcro. But if it meant controlling his dynamic, then he gladly sacrificed a little of his dignity. At least the articles were helpful, informing him that the kid ‘needs to feel safe and calm’ enough to tolerate being separated from ‘their parents’. So he waited, trying to exude soothing pheromones. The action felt unnatural to him, accustomed to intimidating people into compliance. Still, he tried, forcing himself to stay still, subduing his pheromones into something warmer. Calmer.

The next time Dex tried to lower the omega onto the bed, he had more success. He immediately draped his jacket over her small frame, enveloping her in his scent. It was another suggestion he had found in his desperate research session. Allegedly, orphaned omegas are prone to be scent-starved. Their lack of regular exposure to familial or comforting pheromones can lead to heightened stress and anxiety levels, making them crave physical closeness desperately.

As he carefully withdrew himself from her embrace, a faint whine escaped her, her fingers twitching against the jacket, searching for the warmth he had taken with him. He ignored the strange discomfort he felt at this sound.

Despite wanting to finally rid himself of his dirty clothes, he could not force himself to step away from the bed just yet, studying her curled-up form. She was tiny. Probably malnourished, he suspected. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, her hair tangled with split ends. The clothes she wore were slightly too large for her, probably pulled from a donation bin. There were no pack markers, no layered scents on her. Just his. The more he noticed, the more certain he became that taking her had been the right decision.

An involuntary smile sneaked onto his lips as he watched the girl grip his jacket tightly, inhaling its scent. She purred, a soft, contented smile on her face. He felt a strange twist in his guts at the sight. It felt good to be needed. Wanted. 

He abruptly turned and stomped to his bathroom, perplexed by the wave of protective emotions. He shook his head, reminding himself that this was just temporary. She was only here because he needed her to manipulate his dynamic. In exchange, he would provide her with a safe place during her heats. A fair exchange. Nothing more. Clinical. Controlled.

In the bathroom, Dex quickly changed out of his suit, examining if there was any damage. Nothing. None of the AVTF members managed to land a hit on him. The only one who had come close to hurting him was the little girl. He flexed his hand. Her bite hadn’t been able to draw blood, but it might bruise. A strange, reluctant pride bloomed in his chest. She was feisty. Dex smirked at the memory of her adorable snarling face, already looking forward to when she regains a bit of lucidity. It’s probably going to be quite entertaining. 

The girl was fast asleep when Dex came back. With a wet rag, he carefully wiped away some of the dried blood on her face. Thankfully, her cut was small. It had already started to clot. 

He hesitated a second before slipping into bed, trying not to touch the girl still curled around the jacket next to him. While he was curious about how the girl would react when she regained her senses, he did not want her to be afraid of that. He knew what it would look like to her. A huge alpha close to his rut, sleeping in the bed with an omega. Also, she looked content enough with the jacket.

Her soft pheromones permeated the air, quieting his restless mind. Dex could feel the puppy heat affecting him, prompting his rut to come prematurely. Right now, he still had his alpha under control, pushing down the strange urge to cradle the girl to his chest and smother her in his scent. But he estimates it will arrive sometime the next day. Nearly a week too early.

Unfortunately for him, the girl must have sensed his body heat, abandoning the jacket in favour of clinging to his arm. He sighed, rolling his eyes but ultimately leaving her be. Inhaling her scent, his tension slowly melted away as he listened to her soft breathing. His mind felt at peace. 

------

Dex woke up to the smell of burned milk. During the night, the girl must have burrowed closer, now basically lying on top of him, nose close to his scent gland. His arm was curled loosely around her, holding her in place. The girl’s body was stiff, every muscle locked tight. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, reminding him of an anxious rabbit. Pretending to sleep, Dex hoped she would calm down on her own. He felt far too comfortable to deal with her panic right now. The deep, uninterrupted sleep he had gotten the night before had left him strangely heavy-limbed, reluctant to move.

He could feel her eyes on his face, searching for any indication he was awake. Her scared puffs of air tickled his neck. Slowly, as if avoiding waking some vicious beast, the girl tried to extract herself from under his arm. No success: His arm was like a band of iron around her. Being close to his rut, Dex’s alpha did not like her attempt to leave the safety of his arms at all, urging him to scruff her. He resisted the impulse. Better deal with her fear now than postpone it indefinitely. Probably picking up on the minutiae change in his scent, the girl’s wriggling became more insistent, her scent souring. Still with his eyes closed, Dex sighed.

“Stop it.” His voice was still hoarse from sleep. 

She did stop. For one second. Then Dex had a frantically squirming child in his arms, her sharp elbow digging into his abdomen as she twisted and turned, snapping her teeth toward his arm in a determined attempt to bite him.

He groaned in annoyance. “What’s with you and biting?”

Dex placed his other arm around her, locking her against his chest while she trashed, hissed, and scratched at him. He just lay there, eyes still closed, waiting for her energy to run out, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her back. The corners of his mouth twitched when this pseudo-domestic gesture only riled her up more. 

Eventually, her struggles began to slow. Her movements turned uneven, sluggish, until they stopped altogether. Her growling slowly turned into a high, broken keen, her scent rapidly turning from panicked to distressed. Fuck, he really did not want to deal with a crying kid. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly, trying to sound reassuring.

A choked sob was his answer. 

Dex huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Detaching one of his arms from his embrace, he placed his hand gently on her head. The girl stiffened, expecting to be scruffed again, but Dex only guided her head back to his neck, firmly holding her in place. He decided to be direct.

“Do you smell any arousal?”

The omega flinched but said nothing. With all the patience he could muster, Dex repeated the question. He felt her shakily inhale. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice weak and scared. 

"You’re close to a rut.”

“That was not the question.”

She sniffed. “No, I don’t.”

“I have no interest in touching you in this manner,” He stated bluntly.

“But you’re an alpha.”

“Yes.”

“In rut.” 

“Yes.”

His deliberate misunderstanding seemed to frustrate her, scent acquiring a sharp note. Good. Better annoyed than scared. With a tired exhale, he decided to humour her. 

“Your scent makes my rut more manageable. Gets rid of my sex drive.”

A heavy silence followed his straightforward admission.

“W-what does this mean for me?” She finally asked, visibly overwhelmed with the strange situation she found herself in.

His lips twitched, as if he found her discomfort amusing.

“It means that you will stay with me for the time being, letting yourself get scented like a good pup and stop biting me.”

His teasing remark fell flat.

The girl started to protest, “But you can’t ju-”

“I can.” His voice was unfazed, almost bored. Just stating a fact. He felt her stuttering inhale.

Her small hands unconsciously clenched the fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to hold herself together.

“That’s not ok.” She whispered.

Dex started playing with her soft hair absentmindedly. Petting her like a cat.

“Do I look as if I care about rules?”

He could tell, she must have thought back to the massacre she witnessed. Her body stiffened, anxious scent spiking. He sighed, becoming increasingly frustrated with her fear.

“As I said: I won’t hurt you. You’re too weak to tempt me anyway.” It was the truth. Hurting someone as weak as her was boring. Her anger was much more entertaining.

She did not respond. Not sure what to answer to that. It seemed as if she had finally surrendered. At least for now.

He loosened his tight embrace minutely and continued lying there, dozing, holding her against his chest. It was strange for him to touch another person in such a manner. Just holding. Not hurting. He could not remember the last time he held someone without it being a chokehold. He still felt weirdly at ease, as if her presence had melted away his ever-present restlessness.

His hand continued its petting until he felt her flinch beneath his touch. Right. The head injury. The realization cut through his drowsiness. His hand immediately stilled, and he finally opened his eyes, looking down at her. The girl had gone completely rigid against him, as though bracing for something unpleasant. The side of her face was bruised. Her small cut must have ripped open in her struggle to escape, a small droplet of blood shining next to her eyebrow.

His alpha growled at the sight, upset. Dex frowned.

“You’re hurt.” Not a question. A statement.

She stared at him, unsure what was expected of her, eventually nodding hesitantly.

Carefully, he eased her off his chest and rose from the bed. Without a word, he headed to the bathroom, gathering his first aid kit. The kid was still where he had left her when he came back. Small mercies.

Setting it down on the kitchen counter, Dex began sorting through its contents with practiced efficiency. The girl still had not moved from her place on the bed, watching his every move with the wary focus of a cornered animal.

Eventually, Dex lifted his gaze from the kit and looked pointedly at her and then at one of the kitchen chairs. Nervously, the young omega scrambled from her spot and padded shyly across the floor before she stiffly sat down on the very edge of the chair. Her back as rigid as a board, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

When Dex stepped behind her, her shoulders immediately climbed towards her ears. The scent of anxiety sharp in the air. He did not comment on it. One hand settled lightly against the side of her head as he angled it towards the light. She flinched at the contact but remained frozen in place.

“Tell me when it hurts.”

His fingers methodically probed the back of her skull, searching for the injury. At her slight whimper, he gently parted her hair, searching for any blood. Thankfully, there wasn’t any.

“No blood. Just bruising,” His voice was detached, methodical.

After his brief inspection, he moved back around to face her. The girl looked a bit overwhelmed by the situation. Every muscle seemed locked tight with uncertainty. Wordlessly, he gently gripped her chin, tilting it enough that he could easily clean the small cut next to her eyebrow again. Like most children, the girl was an open book, her control over her scent still immature. Her puppy heat not helping matters. Nervousness, uncertainty, and wariness rolled off her in waves strong enough to make his nose itch.

While he carefully dabbed her cut with some antiseptic, she steadfastly avoided looking at him. Her gaze drifted everywhere except his face, lingering repeatedly on the apartment door. Dex noticed. Of course he did. He decided against pointing out how futile an escape attempt would be. She would figure that out soon enough if she finally decided to try to make a run for it. Good thing most of his neighbours would already be at work at this time.

Once the antiseptic was finished, he gently smeared a thin layer of calming gel over the bruised skin, soothing its sting. As he packed away the supplies, he caught her gaze flickering to the door again. She probably thought she was being subtle. Let’s nip this in the bud right now. His alpha agrees.

He took his time putting the kit back, deliberately lingering in the bathroom for a few extra seconds. He might as well give her a head start. By the time he sauntered back into the main room, the apartment door stood wide open. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. There was his little fighter.

A rush of adrenaline surged through his veins at the sound of frantic footsteps darting down the hallway. His alpha hated it, instincts roaring at him to retrieve her. Get her back to safety. Make her understand where she belonged. Still, Dex did not move. He leaned casually against the doorframe and closed his eyes, methodically popping his knuckles and neck. It would be boring if he caught her immediately.

Below, he could hear her stumbling down the stairwell. One floor. Two. A few moments later, he heard her touching the stairs three floors down. His eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking, a distinctly predatory smile spread across his face. Then he finally moved.

He burst out of the door and thundered down the hallway, not bothering to soften his footsteps. Wanting her to know he was in pursuit. He was rewarded with her startled gasp. Her scent of panic thick in the air. Dex smiled wider at that. Canines showing. He reached the stairs and took them in uneven bounds, jumping down several at a time. He could hear her laboured breathing now. Uneven. Ragged. Close.

She only made it down another set of stairs when he barrelled into her from behind, arms locking around her and lifting her cleanly off the floor in one easy motion, as if she weighed nothing at all. The small, frightened squeak she made drew a faint laugh out of him. She thrashed immediately, panicked and desperate, buckling and kicking like a wild horse, even trying to headbutt her way free. But to no avail. Dex adjusted his hold each time with casual ease, absorbing her attacks with amused patience. He remained still in the stairwell, arms firm around her. His breathing was barely elevated, as though the chase had been nothing more than a leisurely walk.

“Let me go, you creep!”

“Aw, and I thought we came to an understanding.” he cooed.

“Fuck you!”

That made him huff out a laugh.

She continued to spit a surprising variety of obscenities at him, squirming as if it would make a difference. Her rage was amusing. His alpha, however, did not find it as entertaining. With Dex’s oncoming rut, his alpha became more and more insistent. More dominant. He did not like his, no the kid challenging him, urging Dex to make her finally submit.

Giving in to his alpha’s demands, Dex unceremoniously bit her nape. The girl crumbled as if someone had cut her strings. Her pupils dilated, submission hormones flooding her system. He could see the shock in her eyes. While scruffing a child that was not one’s own was already frowned upon, biting one was an absolute taboo. That’s only between pack members. Parent and child.

Dex was equally flooded by hormones, his instincts screaming protect-mine-keep, overriding his composure. His breath hitched, not having expected the bite to have any effect on him. He had thought it was just a slightly more insistent way to scruff. Now in his full-blown rut, Dex dazedly stumbled back to his apartment, clutching the girl closely to his chest. Just as he slammed the door shut, he felt his lucidity leaving him.

------

The next hour was a bit hazy for Dex. One moment he was pacing the flat, scanning every shadow for threats, growling at every suspicious sound. The next, he was settled against the headboard, guns and knives within easy reach, as he pulled the girl against his chest, thoroughly scenting her. The room was oozing with his scent. Heavy. Claiming. Dex was lost in his instincts, even rumbling as the girl, who had succumbed to her heat again, sought comfort in his scent. His fingers carded through her hair, detangling knot by knot, the repetitive motion soothing him. A reminder that she was there. Safe. Cared for. He would occasionally lower his head, rubbing his rough cheek against the crown of her hair, breathing in her scent.

He regained full control over his senses slightly after midday. The girl lay barely conscious against him, purring and exuding a scent of pure contentment. Her eyes were half lidded, thoroughly scent drunk. Her disheveled hair, courtesy of Dex, was oily with how often he had smeared his wrist glands over it. One could barely make out her puppy scent under the oppressing scentmarks. He felt oddly pleased by it.

He traced the slight bruise on her neck gently, feeling an odd twist in his chest. He had not expected to react so strongly to the bite. Or react at all. Yet he did not mind it as much. His regular rut usually stripped him of his agency for far longer, forcing him to do far more displeasing things. Cuddling – God, how that word felt alien to him – with some kid was definitely preferable. Even if she hates his guts. No. He smiled smugly. Especially if she hates his guts.

He carefully arranged said kid on his bed, draping some towels around her. His apartment was depressingly bare of soft materials, which had forced him to improvise. The girl was still quite out of it, allowing him to risk a quick shower without having to worry about another escape attempt. For the future, he should probably invest in a double bolt, he mused.

The shower helped with the residual haziness. But he knew this was just a short window of lucidity before his rut would overcome him again. When he emerged, the girl was exactly as he had left her, groggily gazing at Dex, but not really registering him. She would probably benefit from a shower too.

He rummaged through the girl’s small backpack. Besides some clean underwear, another set of grubby, used clothes, and some knickknacks, he did not find much. He ultimately herded her dazed form to the shower with one of his spare T-shirts and sweatpants shoved into her arms. She would be swimming in them, but at least they were clean. His alpha rumbled in contentment at the thought of her being enveloped in his scent.

While she showered, he busied himself in prepping for the next few hours. Water bottles and some energy bars were stacked next to the bed. He also wrote a short note for his nosy old neighbour, informing her that he would not be available for the next couple of days.

When the girl finally emerged, clothes pooling around her scrawny frame, sweatpants rolled up several times, Dex immediately noticed the change in her behaviour. The suspicion and wariness were back on her face, but also something like indignation. He smirked, casually flipping a pancake in the air without even looking at it.

“You alright with pancakes?” Dex asked lazily, a self-satisfied smile gracing his rough features.

Because there is not enough Platonic!Benjamin Poindexter interacting with a kid, there you go :)

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language so if there is a typo, i'm sorry.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ...

Summary: Dex finds a young omega pup who is being harassed by the AVTF. He deals with them.

WC: 1,7k

crossposted on ao3

Dex was agitated. His rut was only days away. He felt his skin itching, could feel his alpha pushing for control.

He did not like this aspect of his dynamic. He never understood the urge to have sex. It was messy, animalistic. Being forced into this minimalist headspace, being out of control of his own body, and desiring something he knew he disliked was a horrible experience. But suppressants were nearly worse. In prison they had him drugged out of his mind with suppressants, fearing he would become more volatile. He was barely conscious most of the time, not being able to do anything but dazedly stare at the wall, while the residual itch drove him mad. Even now, he could not bring himself to take suppressants.

Hence his agitation. His finger twitched, desperate to take out his knives and start lodging them in people's skulls. But he couldn’t. That was not what good guys did.

He had been stalking around Midtown for over an hour, the night already fallen, searching for an AVTF to finally rid himself of this maddening itch. Violence usually quieted the incessant buzzing.

As he rounded the corner, he smirked. There was a group of five agents patrolling around some warehouses. He huffed. As if he would stay in such a cliché hiding place.

He kept in the shadows, slowly approaching them. Just as his hand itched closer to his knives, the group froze, sniffing in the air excitedly. One of the agents pointed towards a warehouse; he could see the glint of his smirk in the dim light, urging his colleagues towards the building. Dex frowned. The men did not draw their weapons. Whomever they smelled, they were not a threat to them. He inched closer. What could have-?

Then the scent hit him. He nearly stumbled by its intensity. An omega pup in distress, obviously nearing their puppy heat. He clenched his jaw. The AVTF was known to be an alpha-only task force. Other than that, they were not particularly picky regarding their background. His alpha was livid, urging him to intervene, to change the scent of burnt milk to one of blood. To kill. To protect. For once since the last couple of days, he and his alpha were in agreement. He might be a murderer - a psycho if one believed the tabloids -, but he would never stoop so low as to even consider touching a child in such a vile way.

No one noticed him standing at the doorway, too focused on the commotion at the other end of the room. A young girl, 12 at best, stood against the wall, her now bloody knife glinting in her shaking hand. An AVTF member, the one who urged the others into the building, cradled his arm near him, swearing viciously.

„-UCK, the fucking bitch stabbed me!“ Dex smirked. Feisty.

His smirk fell as the asshole violently backhanded the girl, making her head slam brutally against the wall with a dull thud. That was the last thing he did before a knife lodged into his carotid. All hell broke loose. Their flashlights swung around aimlessly, yelling at each other to located the threat. When they finally spotted his hulking form he smirked under his mask at the obvious horror in their eyes.

„IT’S BULLSEYE!“

He moved. It was just too easy. The agents were unorganized. They expected an easy prey. Having a good time. They did not expect him.

He did not kill them as efficiently as he did his usual victims. No. He wanted them to suffer. Knife into the kneecap. The Eyes. Their groins. He smiled crazily behind his mask. Crowfeet crinkling around heated eyes. He relished in their pained screams, their smell of terror permeating the air, their blood dripping to the floor, creating the intoxicating scent of death. Final knife into their larynx. Choking on their own blood.

Still, it was over too soon. He was not even out of breath. The itch only slightly quietened. Still there. Insisting.

He turned lazily when he heard a slight shifting, gazing at the scrawny girl.

She had straightened herself up again. There was a small cut near her eyebrow, her blood trickling down the side of her face. She cowered against the wall in a defensive stance, snarling at him, pointing her bloody knife in his direction. He smirked under his mask, amused. Adorable. She was as threatening as a kitten. But still, she had more guts than most people had after witnessing such a massacre. He had expected her to whimper, to beg him not to harm her. Instead, he was greeted with a face of angry determination.

Still, despite her supposed bravado, her scent betrayed her fear, being not yet old enough to control her scent completely. She shaked minutely, slightly curled in on herself, making her arm with the knife tremble, while the other was pressed against her middle. He could see the sweat glistening on her forehead, her squinting eyes indicating a trouble focusing. If he had to bet, then he’d estimate she was only a couple of minutes away from succumbing to her puppy heat.

But the most striking indicator of her coming heat was her scent. Under the scent of her nervousness, he could make out the intoxicating scent of a puppy in heat, its milky sweet undertones filling the room, her body instinctively calling out for her pack for much-needed comfort. But no one came. He could not smell any other scents on her than hers. She must be an orphan. He was slightly impressed. Omegas usually do not end up well on the streets - especially young ones.

He took a deep sniff again, scent even more potent. The ever-present buzzing in his head quieted, the tension in his shoulders he did not know he had slowly melting away. He blinked in surprise. That was unexpected. He never had such a reaction to any scent. The closest was Julie when he was able to get hold of an old uniform of hers, but even hers wasn’t able to stop the itch completely and so easily.

Usually, his head quietened when he finally gave in to his violent urges and killed. But never with a scent.

He narrowed his eyes at the girl, contemplating. Is it because of the puppy heat? He was never good at deciphering feelings, even his own. He frowned. Does his alpha want her? He dismissed the thought immediately. No. At least not in the way the pathetic other alphas wanted her. He could feel a possessive urge coming from his alpha, insisting. To protect. To keep. To… hug?

After some seconds of bewilderment, his eyes widened in realization. Was his rut reacting with the pheromones of a puppy? He remembered hearing somewhere that some alphas stopped having sexual ruts after having children, their ruts centering on protecting the young, being able to keep most of their lucidity. Was this something similar? Was his alpha demanding that he take on the role of her familial alpha since he could smell that she did not have one? The thought of tricking his body into changing his rut pattern made him nearly giddy, a crazed smile gracing his lips.

Having made his choice, he slowly took off his mask, hoping to look more approachable. A look at the girl told him that she would definitely not make it easy. Why would she? He was an alpha. One who had killed in front of her with obvious delight. But her opinion hardly mattered when he made his decision.

Wouldn’t taking her in be what a good person would do? She was clearly alone and nearly in heat without anyone to protect her. The good thing to do would be to become her protector, wouldn’t it?

The thought made his slightly unhinged smile wider. The girl flinched. He quickly molded it into the charming smile his elderly neighbor loved. Calm. Harmless. Approachable.

Unfortunately, the girl did not seem to buy it for one second. He received a hiss at his ministrations.

He dismissed the idea of throwing something at her. He rarely threw without the intent to harm someone; thus, he was unsure if even his weakest throw was weak enough not to hurt such a frail girl. Especially after that hit on the wall.

He inched closer and closer, hands up in a placating manner. The practiced smile still stuck to his face.

„Stay away!“

She brandished her knife in warning, the movement slightly sluggish. The hit must have left her quite dizzy. Maybe even a slight concussion.

Her scent smelled of terror and aggression. He had expected her terror. But he had not expected her shooting forward like a snake, her glistening knife aimed straight at his abdomen. It was surprising for sure, but the movement was boringly predictable. Moving smoothly sideways, he caught her wrist in a firm grip, twisting it slightly until she was forced to let go of the knife. He received a surprisingly strong bite into the flesh between his thumb and index finger as a response. He grunted, but did not let go. The little shit had spunk.

Still, he finished it quickly. His other hand moved to her neck, snatching her up at her nape, effectively scruffing her. She let out a pitiful whine, like a scolded puppy, and went limp. He could smell how the calming hormones flooded her body, smothering her fear in forced feelings of contentment and calm. Her eyes betrayed her terror, staring at him pleadingly, full of terror. He smirked at the sight, amused. He picked her small frame up easily, holding her up with one arm and pressing her face to his primary scent gland on his neck. Despite her best attempts to fight against the lulling pull of his pheromones, her eyes got increasingly droopy, her lucidity slowly waning. Nearly mockingly, he carded his free hand through her hair, scratching her scalp, carefully avoiding the sensitive area. It pulled an involuntary stuttering purr out of her; her hand, which before had weakly pushed against his chest, fisted into his tactical suit. The residual tension left her as she practically melted into his hold. Nosing into her soft hair, he inhaled deeply. Her scent calmed his mind. Some primitive part of him rumbled in contentment. It was finally quiet in his head, like the air after snowfall. The first time since long, he finally felt at peace.

The girl whimpered again, overwhelmed with what was happening, her puppy heat drawing her under, making her clingy, needing the scent and presence of pack.

He smiled against her hair. Surprisingly sincere.