It was a week be

Sorry this took so long Ive been busy with beauty school and struggling with motivation tbh lol. Looking back at the previous two parts this needs a LOT of editing but honestly I don't think I can rn so you'll all have to suffer through unedited chapters for now, sorry! Anyway I'm very tired rn so I won't hold up with authors notes anymore, I hope you all enjoy this and please share your thoughts (they fueled this chapter tbh)

It was a week before Tommy passed his lunch on again. Eddie sat in his cubicle nose flaring at lunchtime everyday, a pavlovian response to the clunk-tick of the bento box popping open. He could smell meats, vegetables and fruits, cheesy pastas and salt-buttered rolls. Under it all he could smell that sugar sweet ginger and floral scent, Steve.

Eddie's own lunches were rare, and when he did lower himself to eat at the company café he always found it wanting. Nothing quite matched up to a meal made painstakingly by hand. He wondered if this was part of Tommy's cruel mockery, to hand him something he was unworthy of to let him taste heaven, then snatch it away and leave him stranded in a world of bland flavorless slop.

That wasn't to say the café food was bad. In actuality it was surprisingly good. The young woman who ran it had been part of a government program to teach underserved highschoolers skills, and her meals were wholesome and tasty. She had baked a cake for the company holiday party, and when she say Eddie savouring the bites she confided her secret: a third of the flour was substituted with corn flour to give it a texture. It was the best homemade cake Eddie had ever eaten, though he had very little to compare it to.

So no, the food at the café, the bar and the grocery store and - godforbid - Eddie's own kitchen wasnt bad. It was of a higher standard he was used to, and it was filling and tasty, and he ate what he liked instead of what his guardians decided he should eat. But none of it had the taste of Steve's hands on it, and so none of it could ever compare. He mindlessly shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth, chewed and chocked it all down. He missed Steve's food, after only tasting it once.

The day Tommy decided to grace Eddie's desk with the tin lunchbox again hadn't started out special. In fact as the clock slowly ticked into the luncheon hours Eddie had long resigned himself another cafe meal when Tommy's cackled echoed across the floor.

"Nah, he's going into heat soon so he's been extra bitchy... I've had to pull late night's just to get some damn peace"

Eddie's hackles rose. Omegas in preheat needed stability, reassurance. Spending hours away would just make their preheat anxiety worse, something Tommy was either too stupid to realise or too cruel to care.

"Aw c'mon man," one of the stuffy suited alphas beside him gave Tommy a heart shoulder clap, "heat is the whole point of marrying an omega, right? Man what I'd do to get to fuck one, is it true they can't think of anything other than cock?"

Tommy's low chuckling makes Eddie grit his teeth,that was basically conformation. He's out here discussing his omegas private, vulnerable moments like it's water cooler gossip. Barely containing a growl Eddie peaks over the cubicle and finally spots the group by the - oh for fucks sake - gathered around an honest to God watercooler.

"Yeah the fucking is great, he always bitches about wearing a collar but once he's in the heat of it," smattered giggles, "he forgets aaaalllll about it. Almost makes the week before worth it. Almost." The last line sounds almost spiteful, but his cronies don't seem to take note.

"How'd you even bag him? I mean sure omegas aren't that rare but I hardly see any that aren't mated, especially a nice tame one that'd pack me lunch."

Something in the air turns sour, and when Eddie peaks over again in a bizaar mimic of an old whack-a-mole game, he can see Tommys face twist and turn in on itself. He seems torn between frustration and pride, like a dog showing off its gold plated collar.

"It was a family thing," he says, the vague answer telling just enough for his buddies to drop it while still answering their question. He glances down at the lunch box in his hand and his upper lip twitches in disgust, then his eyes rove over the office cubicles before locking onto Eddie. Shit, too late to duck down, and Tommy marches over, smarmy smile stretching over his too-white too-straight teeth.

"Munson!" THWACK. Ow. "You not having lunch?" Tommy leans down, weight on Eddie's shoulder where his fingers dig in just enough to make Eddie want to bite him. But the possibility of getting his paws on that lunch box, on Steve scented food, outweighs his instinct to fight the alpha trying to impose himself.

"Shit man," his grin is all teeth, "I hadn't even noticed the time! Guess I'll have to run down to the cafe and pick something up, huh?" It's fake. It's so fake and they both know this conversation is just a formality, the conclusion already known.

"I'll save you the trouble," Tommy should have persued an acting career, the script sounds so natural as he straightens up and clacks the lunch box onto Eddie's desk, "I'm heading out to lunch with the boys, you'd be doing me a favour." The last part doesn't sound like a lie, and if Eddie wasn't so desperate for the lunch he'd wonder why Tommy was so desperate to get rid of it.

"Thanks man," he spits out to Tommys retreating form. He mutters something - likely demeaning - to his cronies who titter, then leave together like a pack of cackling hyenas.

Eddie launches from his desk and flies to the rooftop, lunchbox clutched desperately in his hands, cigarettes forgotten. Once he reaches his usual spot his pops the lid, thrumming with excitement at the sight of another note. Ignoring the food over the sweet omegas words he plucks the folded yellow paper and gingerly unfolds it.

"please come home early"

His heart plummets. Right. Steve is in preheat, he obviously wants his alpha. But Tommy said he was avoiding Steve, and now the note confirms that. Please come home early, but no "I miss you" . No "love Steve". It seemed impersonal, something like an order, or begging, but without the hope either of those entail. He recalled Tommys other statement. It was a family thing.

Eddie was familiar, though distantly, with the idea. Arranged marriages were hardly a thing anymore. The star charts, the burnt herbs and entrails spread out beneath a crones trembling hands was far too gouche for modern metropolitans. The payments in silk and bovine too backwards and simple for their forward thinking ways.

Marriages were a more democratic affair for the rich and wealthy, planned out in wood panelled offices with huffing cigar breaths, Alpha to Alpha, the prospects of mergers and inheritance trumping starsigns and blood types. Arranged marriages was for backwards, superstitious folk, agreements were for the rich to keep the money in arms reach. Steve and Tommy were an agreement.

And by the looks of if; no mating bite, avoidance during preheat and the tone Tommy musters when discussing his spouse? Not a particularly blissful agreement. Still. Please come home early, Steve must find some comfort in Tommy's general existence if he wants him around over a trusted family member or close friend. Or pup. Tommy never mentioned a pup, but whether that was because he didn't have one or didn't care much to talk about it was somewhat up in the air.

Eddie brought the note to his lips, just toughing, and breathed deep. The ginger of Steve's scent was less sweet now, his preheat brining out the spice. Something like pepper ticked the back of his nose, pulled the air from his lungs and a final floral smell brought him back in, the sweet aftertaste of a spicy treat. The flowers smelt fresh, Eddie could recall the lily's at his mother's grave smelling the same. Somewhere in his mind he knew that comparison should scare him, but the memory of her grave after the funeral had always been rose tinted by Wayne's kind smile when he took his hand and gently lead him away. Eddie pulled the note away and his lips twitched up, that floral after taste was definitely lily's.

Eddie spared the food a glance, and as delicious as it look, he had something else on his mind. He looked down at the note in his hands, his hind brain sparking to attention at the scent of the omega, and the idea of him home alone in preheat. Eddie wanted to comfort him, to sooth his nerves and let him know he was safe and loved. He wanted to pace the door in front of their den, while Steve nested inside, to protect him from any intruders and serve him. To hold his hand, his waist, to pillow his head on Steve's chest and listen to his heart beat and bathe in his scent.

He couldn't. Steve was married, as much as Eddie's hind brain shouted "not mated" and Steve didn't even know Eddie, let alone allow the alpha into his nest. But Eddie couldn't help it as he pressed the note to his wrists and neck, mind whirling with ideas on how to comfort the omega. Somewhere between kissing Steves fingertips through fruit and the ginger of his scent burning Eddie's nose, the alphas heart had already pledged itself to the omega, already bared itself - pledged itself to his service. If all Eddie could offer was comfort, crossing lines of proprietary was no hurdle.