Chapter Text
Takashi curled up under the stiff sheets of the hospital bed, hands pressed over his nose in a vain attempt to block the harsh, burning sterility that punched right through the hospital’s attempts at scent mufflers. It was the kind of smell that even youkai tended to avoid. He was nauseated with the intensity, and the echoing ticks of the wall clock only made it worse. Still, Takashi was at least thankful to have a room to himself for once—the trapped smells of other people’s pain and distress were unbearable to his over-sensitive nose.
God, he hated hospitals.
Again, he’d messed up again. The Murasaki’s, even as tolerant as they were, wouldn’t let him back after this. Takashi took a moment to mourn that loss. The Murasaki’s had been one the best families, and none of them, not even their alpha father, had ever turned their pheromones on him. But that was gone now, and all because Takashi had been too careless trying to seal his youkai stalker.
Picking at the bandages on his hands, Takashi whined softly into the pillow. Who knew where he would go now? Surely they would run out of extended family and generous friends to hand him off to soon.
--~~--
A gentle touch on his forehead woke Takashi from a hazy sleep. His limbs felt like lead, and even the prospect of opening his eyes was too difficult to contemplate, so he remained still, listening for any murmur of conversation—for him, information.
“He’s so pale, Shigeru. And too thin. I know omegas tend to have slighter statures, but this…”
A woman with a warm, melodic voice. It was her fingertips that softly brushed back his bangs, Takashi guessed. Subconsciously, he tilted his head into the touch. Her hand stuttered, but resumed in a moment with just as much care as before.
“I know, Touko. But isn’t that one of your favorite hobbies? Feeding us delicious food until we beg for mercy?”
The voice was low and soft, and a smile was audible in his words. It seemed they were a couple, then, and though the blindingly sterile scent of the hospital was still interfering with Takashi’s senses, what little of their pheromones he could catch seemed… solid, and relaxed. Like a warm drink on a cold day. A faint spark of hope lit in his chest.
“How could this have happened?” The woman—Touko?—asked, her fingers flitting from the bandages around Takashi’s forehead to the plaster on his cheek.
A sigh from the man. “I spoke with Oota-san, and he said they found him fallen at the base of a cliff, pretty deep into the forest. No one was sure how long he’d been there, since he apparently left the house in the morning and his disappearance wasn’t noticed until after dinner. I couldn’t stand to talk to Oota-san for very long though, because he smelled more annoyed than worried, even though Natsume-kun here was just a room away.”
A brief pause.
“We’ll just have to ask Natsume-kun when he wakes up, then.”
“If he’s ready to tell us.”
“Of course.”
With his skin tingling with Touko-san’s gentle touch, the couple’s scents easing the sting of the hospital’s, and low, lulling voices at his side, Takashi slipped back into darkness, his heart light.
--~~--
“Natsume-kun, how would you feel about living with us?”
“Yes… yes please!”
--~~--
Every few minutes, Takashi glanced up to the front seats where the Fujiwaras were, just to reassure his stupid, broken brain that they were there and real and it wasn’t all a wishful dream. He still wasn’t fully healed from his fall, but after Touko-san had picked up on his unease at the hospital, she’d pushed to Takashi to be discharged a few days early, with strict instructions for rest and recovery, of course. They’d borrowed the Murasaki’s car to make the trip to Hitoyoshi, clearly expecting Takashi to have more luggage, but if he hadn’t been quite so injured they wouldn’t have needed the car at all.
When Oota-san came out with the two cardboard boxes that contained Takashi’s entire life, the Fujiwaras had shared a look that Takashi didn’t want interpret. Still, he guessed it was disappointment. It was always disappointment.
Now, in the car, Touko-san or Shigeru-san occasionally spoke up to offer Takashi some tidbit of information when it came up in their quiet discussion. He would apparently be going to a highschool in easy walking distance—“when he was ready,” according to Shigeru-san. Touko-san told Takashi his room would be on the second floor, and that he could decorate it however he liked. (Takashi didn’t plan on it. He never stayed in one place long enough to make it worth the effort or contempt for his strange choices.)
He learned that both the Fujiwaras were betas, and that if there was anything Takashi needed as an omega, he only had to ask. Takashi hoped it wouldn’t come to that. As a bit of a late-bloomer, he hadn’t had his heat yet, and was vainly hoping it would never come.
On arrival at the cozy, quiet Fujiwara home, Shigeru-san hefted up Takashi’s belongings, and together they led a limping Takashi to the door. Touko-san waved him inside with a smile.
The smell was the first thing to hit him, with an impact akin to a slap across face. Away from the hospital and highway fumes and the Murasaki’s car, Takashi had begun to parse the warmth of Touko and Shigeru-san’s scents, but here, in their home…
Frozen in place, Takashi breathed deeply. It was fresh tempura and spring greens, old polished wood and sparkling water. He’d never smelled anything quite so right before. The scents enveloped him, welcomed him in without hesitation.
Behind him, Touko-san laughed, calm and clear, and Takashi startled from his trance.
“Well, that’s promising,” she said. Both Touko-san and Shigeru-san were watching him, broad smiles on their faces, and Takashi could feel a bright flush creeping up his face.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He was being too familiar. Hurriedly he stepped aside so they could enter, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.
“Nothing to be sorry about, Natsume-kun. I’m glad to see we’re compatible, at least in scent.” Shigeru-san laid a hand on Takashi’s head, just for a moment, before moving past him and to the stairs. “Come, I’ll show you your room.”
--~~--
The room turned out to be small and mostly bare, with just a hint of mustiness that nonetheless made Takashi sneeze. Shigeru-san didn’t step through the doorway, instead lowering Takashi’s boxes to the ground and pushing them over the threshold. Puzzled, Takashi dared a glance back.
“This is your space, Natsume-kun,” Shigeru-san said kindly, “you can let us in whenever you’re ready. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, and Touko and I will be downstairs if you need anything. Do whatever you need to make this room yours.”
The flush that had been fading from Takashi’s cheeks came back with a vengeance, even as Shigeru-san mercifully closed the door and returned to the stairs. He knew, of course, that all the dynamics, even betas, liked to scentmark a little space for themselves, and that for omegas that “like” was more of a “need,” a biological imperative to create a private, safe place to feel at home in. In other words, a nest.
But Takashi wasn’t sure how to feel about all of that. None of his foster families had liked it when he’d tried to carve out a corner of their house to scentmark for himself, so he’d eventually stopped trying altogether. Much easier to just keep his head down, stay out of the way, and leave a few traces of himself as possible. Besides, it was embarrassing to mark territory, what with all the rubbing of scent oils and trying to surreptitiously collect materials for a bed nest.
It was a bit strange that Shigeru-san had refused to enter the room he’d given Takashi, though. Usually the families liked to keep an eye on him for a while to make sure he didn’t mess anything up.
Stubbornly, Takashi ignored the prickling over his skin that was his inner omega trying make him begin the scentmarking process. He’d never had it happen quite this fast before. Presumably, it was because of the unusual comfort from the scents of the Fujiwara home. Takashi scowled and tore his boxes open with a little more force than strictly necessary.
--~~--
By the time Takashi crept down the stairs for dinner, the prickling of his skin had escalated to stabbing, and his head ached. This was why he liked to spend as much time as possible outside. After all, his body couldn’t convince him to scentmark if there was no house to scentmark in.
Touko and Shigeru-san quietly welcomed Takashi to the table, and after the food was served, they asked him no questions, instead doing their best to hold casual conversation without him. For that, Takashi was grateful. Still, it was awkward when their eyes inevitably slid over to him every few minutes. Takashi kept his head ducked and ate his portion as quickly as possible.
“Thank you for the food,” he mumbled, moving to carry his dishes to the sink.
“Oh goodness, Natsume-kun!” Touko-san exclaimed. “You’re done already? We have more than enough for seconds, you know.”
Takashi paused to decipher her words. It wasn’t a direct offer or command, and even though he was pretty sure he’d timed his eating speed well enough that he wasn’t being rude (while still allowing her and Shigeru to have some time in peace before Takashi returned to clean up), her scent was unhappy. What had he done wrong?
“I’m… very full, and it was delicious, thank you,” Takashi said uncertainly.
Touko-san made a soft noise, but nodded slowly. “If you’re sure.”
“I’ll be waiting out here whenever you’re ready for me to clean up.”
“…What?” Touko-san’s brow furrowed and Shigeru-san’s gaze focused sharply on him. Takashi did get this reaction sometimes, and it was a relief to know what to do. The families would almost always tolerate him longer when he made sure to start chores right away.
“If everything works out and you stay with us more permanently, I’m sure we can work out some household tasks for you to do, but it’s your first night here, and you’re still injured! Let us take care of everything for now.”
Touko-san’s concern was clear, and Natsume liked her even more. How had he gotten so lucky to end up with the Fujiwara couple?
Still, he shook his head firmly. “I want to thank you for letting me stay. The least I can do is a few dishes.”
A strange look passed between Touko-san and Shigeru-san.
“Well… alright. But we’re not letting you do it alone,” Touko-san insisted.
“No! I can take care of it, I promise—“
“I can’t stop you from helping, but there’s no way I can let you do it all by yourself.”
The words were very final, and with Shigeru-san’s gentle, agreeing rumble at her side, Takashi gave up. At least he would be able to do something.
Utterly wrong-footed, Takashi bowed out of the kitchen and practically fled to the sitting room. The Fujiwaras were incredibly kind, but Takashi couldn’t predict them at all. He wasn’t sure how he was going to navigate the rest of his stay with them.
--~~--
“Shigeru… what have they done to him, that he thinks he needs to make himself useful on the very first day?”
Wordlessly, Shigeru handed Touko his handkerchief to dab at her shining eyes, and gently pulled her to his shoulder so she could brush her cheek over his scent gland. “I don’t know. But we’ll find a way to make it better.”
--~~--
The tell-tale clatter of dishes being gathered was Takashi’s cue to return to the kitchen, and he had to brace himself against the wave of peaceful, relaxing warmth that made up the core of the Fujiwara’s scents. There was a trace of some troubled emotion still in the air, but Takashi assumed it was from his slip-up earlier, whatever it had been.
He tried to situate himself at the sink, but Shigeru-san nudged him aside to the dish rack and held out a clean, fluffy towel. Takashi blinked at it.
“We can’t have you touching this dishwater with your hands still in bandages, now can we? You’re on drying duty tonight.”
Helplessly, Takashi took the towel and the first bowl that Shigeru-san passed him, while Touko-san bustled back and forth between the table and counter. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it seemed that once his injuries finished healing, they wouldn’t feel the need to excuse him from work anymore.
The way Touko and Shigeru-san weaved around each other in perfect sync was one of the strangest dynamics Takashi had ever seen. He didn’t understand them at all.