#alpha!flambae

!Alpha Flambae and !Omega Robert (but Flambae doesn’t know that)

…

It happens in the bullpen, because of course it does.

“Flambae, I’d like your end of shift report any day now,” Robert drawls, sat in his little cubicle at the end of the day. He’s hunched over his desk, pen flying over what Flambae assumes is everyone else’s report.

Flambae huffs, sensitive Alpha pride sparking in his chest. He had hoped if he sped walked fast enough past the nosey Beta’s desk he wouldn’t have noticed him at all - God know’s Robert’s been known to have a one-track mind when it comes to paperwork. He doesn’t feel like writing down his last two failed missions and hearing the man gripe at him for it.

“No need to be such a snippy bitch,” Flambae snaps at him, leaning an arm against Robert’s cubicle, “I’ll get it to you tomorrow, fucking chill.”

Coffee; stale and dry like the brew has been sitting out all day hits the back of his throat. It’s Robert shitty default around the office, but it shifts suddenly - burnt and sharp against his tongue.

“Lazy doesn’t suit you. It takes like five minutes to fill out-“

“Lazy?!” Flambae doesn’t feel bad raising his voice; they’re the last two left in the office, the overhead lights dimmed dark. Not even Beef, the little rotund vacuum cleaner is in his plush little bed. “Right, the man who chooses to sit in a fucking chair all day calling me lazy.”

Robert, surprisingly, doesn’t take the bait. It honestly disappoints him a bit; one of his favorite past times is riling Robert up. Not that he’d ever admit it out-loud, but Robert could give it back to him just as much as he gave. He’s more than a little addicted to it; the way Robert’s scent is so easy to read in their back and forths.

Not that he like’s his boring Beta smell or anything.

“Fine, just,” Robert sighs, rolling his head from side to side as he pushes the stack of papers he’s working on away from him. His voice is softer than before, a soft little rumble that Flambae’s never heard before. It almost sounds like…purring? But that can’t be right, Beta’s can’t purr.

“Just get it to me first thing in the morning, okay? I’ve gotta go,” Robert stands, quickly trying to shove his things in his backpack, tosses his headphones onto his desk in a hurry.

Flambae can feel his scent spike; black pepper taking over momentarily at being dismissed. “That’s it? The fucks wrong with you?”

Robert shoulders past him, coughing slightly, avoiding eye contact with him. “I just need to get home, not everything’s about you.”

Flambae barks out a laugh, hand outstretched to yank him by his stupid blue shirt, but a different scent hits him square in the face, halting his hand in mid-air.

Sweet vanilla. The smell of coffee is still present, telling Flambae that it’s definitely coming from Robert, but it’s…different. Addicting. It hits the back of his throat, and his mouth fills with saliva against his will, long Alpha fangs pricking his bottom lip so suddenly it shocks him.

It’s like drinking the most expensive blend of coffee he’s ever had, the creamiest vanilla foam with the perfect amount of sweetness.

It’s…it’s so perfect.

He’s not…he’s not sure what to do with this.

Robert’s frozen in the hallway, back turned to him with his shoulders raised up to his ears. The minute Robert cautiously turns his head to look at him - brown eyes wide like saucers - Flambae’s scent responds to him without meaning to.

Warm cinnamon floats in the air around them, spicy star anise dancing with the vanilla latte that’s filling up the space.

Flambae’s eyes are fixed on him, refusing to look away as Robert inhales slowly, carefully. He doesn’t dare move, but Flambae catches the way Robert’s eyes dilate, the way his breathe comes quicker than before.

The way his scent sweetens even further.

Reciprocation.

Understanding dawns on Flambae, whose hand is still outstretched, frozen in between them.

Robert isn’t a Beta.

He’s an Omega.

And apparently, his perfect scent match.