#omega!robert

Chapter 0

The Prologue || Am I Still Young?

3.3k

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A/N

Chapter title- Class of 2011 by Mitski

Fic Title- Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton

This fic will be completed. It’s already half drafted and all plotted out. It may just take me forever but we’ll get there.

I’ll post to AO3 ASAP as well. Tumblr will always get the chapter update first though. It’s my favorite site.

Also

Welcome to my omegaverse ficccc!!!

Starting light with scents and pheromones, lmao.

TW! Future discussions of: Non-Con/Rape. (It is all implied but it is talked about.) Major Character Death.

That’s it!

Enjoy!!

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Blonde Blazer is everything anyone could ask for. When it comes to saves, she is the best.

NewNewsNetwork said it well enough: “Blonde Blazer is the perfect form of human decency. Saving civilians with an effortless grace; THIS is the superhero you want saving you.” (Pg. 1. Line 1. NNN)

She saved Robert that night, and didn’t even beat his ass for assaulting a press junker.. journalist. Honestly, she forgave more in him than she ever should’ve.

Now, why the hell she would bring up Chase Wright at 11pm on a work night—not that every night wasn’t a work night for her, Robert didn’t have a fucking clue.

He’d seen his old ass just days ago; the guy, still stubbornly kicking on despite it all.

But somehow, an ache in his chest found its way right between his ribs. And he wanted to go home.

—— Four days before, on the hour.

The bed was too big, lights were too bright, the entire room stunk of chlorine pools and hand sanitizer; it was too much.

The heart monitor led a steady beat, accompanying Robert’s glazed over eyes as he scanned the room. Shroud, where was Shroud? A million questions soared by at a rapid fire pace but Robert wasn’t even coherent enough to think one. He blamed it on the room.

“You’re alright, kid.”

With the fact Robert was blown up earlier, his ears hesitated to pinpoint the exact position of the voice. His fucked up nose not even picking up the guy’s scent. But as soon as Robert saw the stool, he saw him.

“—Who sent you?!” Robert said, his voice cracking with a high lilt. He hiked up the bed with one good arm—finally realizing his left arm was stuck up in the thickest fucking cast he’s had yet. At least his finger bones weren’t suspended in the air and tacked down with bars this time.

“Calm your ass down, young man. You can’t give an old man a heart attack this late at night, it’s just fucking cruel. Sit, Sit,” He urged, struggling to walk forward as his arm reached out in a calming sort of way. It was less likely the old guy was shroud, but you never know. Maybe Shroud picked up Benjamin Button at his local bingo table this go around.

It’s smart though; Older man, less of a scent to mark, easier to lose.

Electing to ignore him, Robert struggled more. Reaching his okay arm out to try and grab an IV pole or something. Maybe even the stupid heart monitor that still insisted on beeping, which at least bothered to change tempo in the chaos. “Good fucking—“

The old man leapt to trap Robert in a hug—slash headlock. One moment the old timer was still struggling to wake his sleepy legs up and the next? He was holding onto Robert for dear life. Alright, maybe not Benjamin Button.

Just very Benjamin Button-like. A Relative? Benjamin Cousin? —That was fucking stupid, actually.

“Fuck you, man. Seriously—It’s Me, it’s me! It’s Uncle Chase. Quit the fuckin—“ Chase bat Robert’s arm down from his vice grip on the IV pole, cords tangled up and in a vicious disarray. Honestly, the needle in his hand was probably a hair’s breadth away from piercing something at this point.

Oh. Fuck.

Robert’s face was struck dumb. Shocked, his head whipped back to Chase and.. yeah. He could see the resemblance now. “Chase?” He cracked, voice still small.

How could he not even smell the Omega? He knew those pheromones down to the wood grain, all his damn life. How could he—

“Yeah, fuckhead. The one and only.” Chase still held his good arm tight, looking directly into Robert’s soul. Robert just now noticed how Chase remained careful to not lay on top of him. Hovering just above Robert’s bad arm. How could he have mistaken him for a villain? Ever? “Are you gonna lose it again if I let go? Can I go back to being old, now? Superhero shit ain’t my ballgame anymore, kid.”

“—Unc.” Robert relaxed, muscles going slack as he crashed down into the so-so mattress, in relief. A breath that wasn’t even there to begin with caught in Robert’s throat. Chase is here, Chase is here, Chase is here— Ran circles in his head as he tried to urge a breath. Choking and coughing, with tears inviting themselves to the party even when Robert hadn’t felt the urge. It’ll be okay now.

”Oh c’mon, Buddy, please. Breathe. C’mon.” Chase’s voice came back into Robert’s view as he still stuttered a cough. Getting off the bed quickly, Chase tried his best to grab Robert by the shoulder and sit him up.

Fuck, the poor guy couldn’t catch a break.

“Ch-ase,” Robert groaned, looking at his uncle with teary eyes. He looked just like when he was twelve.

Poor kid too.

“Yeah? You can go speaking when you start breathing, Robert. Now fix yourself ‘fore I fix it for you, huh?” Chase urged, holding Robert’s cast laden arm still as he patted Robert’s back roughly.

After regaining a semblance of control, Robert settled. His back felt impossibly more bruised than before, and his lungs burned—not to mention his shoulder, Chase almost pulled the damn thing out of its socket with that little move. But he lived, thank fuck he lived through all of it. Shroud, Toxic, even down to that coughing spell. Nearly dying made you grateful for the stupidest things.

But seeing Chase’s disgruntled face as he stood over Robert, a guardian gargoyle ready to resume swatting the ever loving shit out of him. Robert could tell the world would’ve been fucked if he hadn’t. Not because of a lack of Mechaman, but because Chase would go all supersonic Ghost Face on the bastards who did it.

It’d be a warm day in hell, that’s for sure.

The heavy hospital door opened hurriedly, a frazzled nurse emerging with what looked like a few more just like her, behind it. “Are the Omega alright in here?” She asked, walking briskly to the heart monitor. Flitting about with wires of all sorts; pressing buttons.

Her oiled up hair and synthetic beta smell didn’t help her panicked disposition. She held it together well though, only nervously looking between Chase and Robert a few dozen times instead of the full dozen times.

She has a secret, that’s clear.

And with how she couldn’t immediately track the difference between a regularly distressed omega and a severe one? Well, it didn’t take a genius.

“Oh yeah, the kid just had a cough. Fixed it right up,” Chase said, looking at Robert to corroborate.

Blinking bleary eyed, Robert attempted to catch a look at Chase; egging on an acknowledgement of some sort. But all his attempts were thwarted as soon as he saw where Chase’s priority lay.

The old man was more preoccupied with giving his whole body a visual x-ray. His nostrils flared a little as he took his scent, getting a lock on his subconscious status as well.

Fuck.

And without feeling his best, Robert gave a so-so judge on any situation. Well, fuck it. How could things possibly go wrong in such a small, sterile room? With unfamiliar eyes trained on every wire and cranny Robert had to offer.

There was no helping it now.

Maybe the undercover Alpha was just like any other in life, trying to get by. And not a messy shroud agent.

Maybe Robert should also lay off on the loopy judging while he’s at it.

“Hngh—yep. Doing just fine, thanks,” Robert said, mustering a thumbs up with his cast-encased hand. Switching to his good one as soon as he realized his mistake.

Looking back at Chase, fully this time. The old man had relaxed, finally processing that his boy was really okay now. Which was terrific news, actually. Sharing a room with that old goat would send Robert to psych. Or better yet, the whole nursing staff as well; shroud-agents or not.

Nodding, the alpha nurse left; said a few words about keeping in contact in case it got serious and off she went. The team must’ve left in the small instance where there was calm in the room. Good for them; being great at their jobs, that is.

As soon as the door made that all too smooth, hospital shink—signaling it shut. Robert resumed focus on breathing. Edging himself back to laying down, now that the adrenaline was winding down to a close.

There was silence in the room. Even with Chase still standing over Robert.

“So, what did—all this.” Robert gestured loosely to the sheet white hair on Chase. Whilst trying to avoid any hint of asking about the obvious and somehow multiplying wrinkles, along with the.. moles? On him, too.

No one said he couldn’t think about it though, okay?

“Oh all this?” Chase remarked, a bushy eyebrow raised in a ‘you think you’re slick? Huh.’ Fashion. Chase pulled over the stool he was sat on earlier, the sound grating, after their collective pause. “‘just a side effect. Nothing too big. Don’t worry about it.” He passed by, just as smoothly as Robert.

“Don’t worry? What the hell kinda side effect is.. that. At 30 something?” Robert quizzed, locked in on Chase now.

“39, asshole. This is why I don't send you a Christmas card.” Chase threw up a hand in mock disbelief.

”You just don’t have my address,” Robert refuted, dryly.

“Oh, can it, Robert. For fucks sake. It’s a part of the powers. You know how it is.” Chase rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and looking anywhere but at Robert.

“Know how it is?” Robert craned his neck, making it so that his best ear was closest to Chase. Just in case he wasn’t actually supposed to be hearing pure bullshit come out of his best friend’s mouth.

“Yeah, it’s the fuckin’ shit. You work forever and you get hit with the second shoe full throttle at 60 miles an hour. A side effect. It’s fine. Like I said, don’t worry about it.” Chase muttered, looking down at the floor this time, kicking some pretend rocks with the toe of his shoe. Right until he caught sight of his own hand on his bicep. Opening his mouth, and closing it again, Chase tried to gather the words.

“I can’t change it; I accept it. It was an occupational hazard. And now I’m without the occupation and it’s still a hazard. I don’t—I can’t run anymore. I can’t do fuck all.” Chase’s eyes met Robert’s. “But, I can still look after rugrats who blow up millions of dollars worth of tech and leave it for dead in the LA streets. You fuckin’ genius,” Chase seethed, “what were you thinking?”

Robert went to reply, looking anywhere for an answer. Maybe even a god? If there still was any left out there.

“-Oh, yeah. You fuckin’ weren’t. Classic Robertson.” Chase huffed. “I can’t believe there could ever have been three of you.”

“Okay, Wright. Change the subject to my fuck ups. I can at least still fuck up. I’ve got at least 40 years on you, grandpa,” Robert accused, wrenching his nose up in distaste.

Pausing, again. The two glared each other down. Eyeing the other for a weakness like it was any other classic superhero fight. And then.. Chase laughed.

“I missed you, kid.” Chase smiled, shaking his head.

Robert smiled too, a slow creeping one—but still a smile nonetheless. “Fuuuuck.” Robert leaned his head on the firm pillow. Flopping down without a care, that sparked a bit of a headache upon landing. With a wince, Robert looked up and said. “We’re really fucked up, aren’t we?”

Chase looked him straight in the damn cornea. “Definitely. You, worst of all.”

“Fuck you.”

As the laughs petered out, Robert tried again. “But seriously, is it.. serious?”

Frowning deeply, Chase looked at the hospital bed with a grimace, “Yes, no. Only if I make it serious. If I run, really run? There goes more of my life down the drain. It.. it doesn’t come back, Robert. We tried.”

Robert tried to get within Chase’s line of view, bending at the side a little to cheat his way through. But his body’s threatening spikes of protest told him that kicking at the old man would do just fine, actually.

“Who’s we?”

“The SDN: Superhero Dispatching Network. It’s a new gig I’ve got going. It’s a job, at least. And I deal with assholes like you, every hour on the hour. Except there’s a lunch break in the middle, this time,” Chase said; shrugging one shoulder. Robert could see he was fighting a smile, probably thinking about coworkers or some other office-working crony thing. Chase always used to be sentimental like that, got attached to anything that breathes. Robert’s a testament to that.

“Sounds solid,” Robert attempted, “I’m glad they tried—that you tried.” He fumbled a bit, raising his hand in a half-shrug, whatever motion. “-After you left, I missed your skinny black ass.” Robert went with, hitting Chase with a look. Knowing full well what he was dishing out.

“Shut the fuck up, Robertson.” Chase groaned, rolling his eyes and leaning back. But he smiled anyway, loser. “Besides, you didn’t need me. You had the suit,” Chase dismissed. Scrunching his nose up like he was dismissing a bad thought, or better yet; avoiding one.

“Objectively true.” Robert started, pretending to look lost in thought. Weighing his options. “Still could’ve used you, though.” Robert finished, dipping his chin and raising his cast as much as he could muster, to point toward an example. Robert’s eyes then looked around in exaggeration, not so subtly hinting at the fact they were currently sitting in a cushy hospital room because of him.

“Not without my speed.” Chase pointed out. His arms crossed, pointing at Robert with a one handed finger gun. Gotcha.

”Not fucking true. I had the suit, your speed was moot to begin with.” Robert joked, leaning back into the hospital bed. Relaxing a little, knowing where the familiar conversation would go from here.

”Oh don’t you even start, fuckface. Trackstar was the MVP before the pulse, and he’s been the MVP ever-damn-since,” Chase argued; screeching his dumb stool ever closer to Robert’s head of the bed. Aiming to keep the idiot’s attention, or at least drill some common sense into his numb-skull, good for nothing, brain.

“Nuh uh.” Robert teased, closing his eyes as a full smile grew on his shit-eating face. He really did miss this, too.

”OH.” Chase admonished, getting physically heated, “You wanna go, big guy? I’ve got a good run, still. Give me a time, broken arm-boy. Let’s go. I’ll make you feel like Antonio Brown, booked for the Raiders. You hear me, Robert? I will fuck you up—“ Chase stood abruptly, trying to get Robert’s eyes back on him.

Robert’s eyes shot open as soon as he heard the stool move back with Chase’s momentum.

“Jesus Christ, Einstein. I get it.” Robert coaxed, looking at Chase with a worried brow. Trying his best to get up with his good arm too. But not really knowing why, with how useless he felt in the first place. But he aimed to, nonetheless.

Chase was physically older now, at least visibly. It worried him. If he fell…

Chase sat back down of course, right after a beat where he stood stock still, with his mouth agape; on the edge of really driving his point home. Whilst he felt only a little stupid for scaring his, admittedly, best friend of all time.

“I think you just won: fuck up of the night. Congratulations,” Robert tried, after a moment; allowing Chase to stew in his emotions for a minute more.

“T’Wasn’t my finest, no,” Chase admitted. Shaking his head slowly with regret, as he picked up the stool that now rolled lazily on the concrete floor.

“Antonio Brown?” Robert said, supervising him. Chase now had the full brunt of Robert’s hind brain surveying his every move. His own hand itching to grab the nurse call button at any moment. Feel my wrath, so help me god.

“I’m rewatching Raiders: Hard Knocks.” Chase gingerly placed the metal poles on their feet. Fiddling a little with the direction of the stool, poking it just to be sure.

“Uh-huh,” Robert mused. Looking, frankly, unimpressed with Chase’s whole pussyfooting routine.

“I’m not sorry. That was uncalled for.” Chase sat down hard on the stool, making it screech a little at the force. But he remedied his retaliatory sitting with a quick apology anyway.

”It’s alright, I’ll be the sorry one. I wasn’t thinking,” Robert acquiesced. Shrugging it off and tilting his head in agreement, it was only fair.

“Funny. You only admit it when I’m gray and old. I knew it could never happen any other way. But, first times are still important for development. I read that one in a hand book,” Chase chuckled. The sparkle in his eye alluding to a specific moment; probably one Robert was a part of—or maybe after him.

“Parenting?”

“Nah, how not to kill your fucked up red-headed step child who’s the son of your boss of too fucking long.” Chase grinned like a thief on the run; a boisterous laugh erupting from him, descending into nefarious giggles. It was actually a wonder that he never had any kids—the man managed to nail down the unexpected dad jokes like second nature. Honestly, it’s probably for the best; the stupid bits could only get worse.

“Ooo, now that’s just mean.” Robert mimed a half assed shot through the heart, sucking air through his teeth in mock pain—only coughing a little from the effort.

That nurse must’ve upped his liquid pain meds ten-fold. Shit.

“True, though.” Chase pointed out, looking way too proud of himself. Wasn’t it just an hour ago that Chase was begging for him to be okay? Well, begging is a strong word—but still felt right with Chase.

“Catch me two drinks down, you might get me to agree,” Robert entertained him, rolling his eyes. He gave up on relaxing, anytime he even tried it seemed like Chase had a warrant out for his unrest. It’s best to humor the Omega’s assholery on more aware grounds anyway, there’s no telling what he could do.

As soon as Chase started his wheezing giggling again, Robert devolved soon after. If for nothing but the fact that Chase sounded like a dying transmission on an old ford. Robert’s not even sure he remembers ever seeing an old ford truck and Chase in the same parking lot before.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Robert giggled, holding his side with an elbow and his good hand. Robert’s eyebrows stitched together in pain but his mouth still betrayed him in a sunshine-like smile. I really did miss Chase… A lot.

Robert couldn’t even remember the last time he laughed this hard; or if he ever has. Maybe it’s the hospital room, they must have their own Baker’s Pink in the LEDS. It’d explain why they’re so fucking bright.

In the companionable silence, Robert started up again; just speaking what was on his mind.

“It was hard without you, y’know,” Robert said, “I spent a long time looking; trying to make sure you were okay. You could’ve let me know.”

“Yeah.”

”A.. a lot happened, actually.” He looked down at his cast, then lower still. “It was kinda fucked up—“

“Robert?”

“What?” Robert looked over, a huff and a hesitant smile on his face; just waiting for the punchline.

“Stop.”

Making eye contact with Chase’s hand, raised in the universal sign.

Chase isn’t looking at him, he’s, well he’s looking at the ground. He looks defeated already; serious.

“Kid- don’t. I know.”

“You know?” Robert's face falls, one last time. The horror creeping in.

“I know,” he says, all gravelly. And Chase looks at him. It’s exactly what he imagined actually, in the morning after. The disappointment, loss of words, even the frown he couldn’t help—accentuated by the mustache he’d grown accustomed to almost his entire life. It…

He knows.

That’s all there is to it, really.