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Isagi has been acting odd ever since losing their match against Rin’s team. And not just sulking over the loss, either. Actually, as far as Nagi could tell, the other striker had almost instantly moved past the feeling of loss with a rejuvenated sense of determination. But ever since they had returned to their room in the lower block of the second selection pathways, he’s been unable to sit still. If it weren’t for the fact that it was late and all the fidgeting had already ruined Nagi’s focus on his mobile game, he might not have had anything to say about it. But as it was, Nagi was beginning to get annoyed.
“What’s your problem?”
“Huh?” He sounds startled by the question, as if he had forgotten there was someone else in the room with him at all.
“I asked you what your problem is.” Nagi repeats, deadpan eyes staring Isagi down with a sort of disdain he doesn’t usually have the effort to emphasize in his words.
“I— I don’t have one.” Isagi insists, though he continues to fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt as if attempting to pull at it until it frays.
“You’re being annoying.”
“Wha—”
“Why are you so antsy? It’s tiresome to watch.” Nagi folds his arms over his chest and fixes a half-hearted glare in Isagi’s direction, watching carefully as the other striker slowly manages eye contact before immediately pressing his back flat against the wall behind him.
“I just—” Nagi cants his head at a certain angle that makes it look like he’s daring Isagi to argue with him, and Isagi immediately snaps his jaw shut and turns his eyes downward so that he’s staring very intensely at the rumpled comforter of his own bed instead of into those oddly intimidating green irises.
The silence returns with an odd sort of tension between them, and Nagi swears he can hear Isagi’s heart hammering from the other side of the room. It’s weird. And just as annoying as listening to him toss and turn every five minutes.
“Are you always like this?” He asks suddenly, listening to the quiet catch of Isagi’s breath before a careful moment of consideration. “You act like a scolded omega, it’s weird.” And then Nagi notices that the other striker stops breathing entirely. He holds his breath like if he can manage to still every part of his body he might be able to disappear entirely and that it might satisfy Nagi enough that he doesn’t further this particular line of conversation.
His heart, however, only seems to act more erratic. Nagi just stares at his suddenly cowering form for a while in the now-dead silence of their room before it clicks.
“Wait, are you an—”
Isagi musters up whatever waning courage he has left to glare back at Nagi, shutting him up and answering his question all with one simple look.
“Oh.” It’s less surprising than it ought to be, Nagi thinks to himself, tilting his head like he’s suddenly got to think real hard about something, but keeping all of those thoughts to himself as he watches Isagi all but disappear in his attempt to curl into himself. It really isn’t that big of a deal, right? Or at least it wouldn’t be if Nagi’s hindbrain didn’t instantly shudder awake.
He watches Isagi for a moment longer, waiting for the tension to dispell from his shoulders and hoping that maybe since he is no longer having to hide his secret that he’ll calm down and just go to bed. Nagi is very wrong, somehow, and he groans as the omega becomes even more restless than before.
The alpha isn’t sure how it happens, doesn’t really take the time to process the distance between them getting smaller. He notes that Isagi’s sheets are softer than his own when he settles his palm atop them, leaning his weight forward and crawling to bridge the gap between them until he is hovering over a suddenly motionless omega.
“What do you think you’re doing?” There’s no trace of fear in Isagi’s voice, and for whatever reason that feels like permission enough to continue. He props himself up with a hand framed on either side of Isagi’s head, lingering there for a moment before he notices the suspicion in the omega’s eyes.
“Nagi..” There’s an edge to the way Isagi says his name, a warning that he proceeds to ignore in favor of tucking his face against Isagi’s neck. The omega goes through a litany of emotions, all of which end with a disgruntled huff.
He slips one hand down and around Isagi’s hips, sliding it under the omega to press up along his spine from the small of his back until it rests between his shoulder blades. It’s a grounding presence, despite Isagi’s initial discomfort, and so he continues. He situates himself between the omega’s legs, shifting until they are pressed together from shoulder to hip and pressing the whole of himself down until Isagi responds with a punched out whine.
“Better?” Nagi asks, nosing along Isagi’s hairline before grazing the scent blocker bandage with his teeth and nipping at it until he can begin to slowly peel it back. Isagi’s scent is so strong when it hits him that he finds himself pressing his hips forward, growling lowly before he notices the panic spike through Isagi’s scent. It’s his only real warning before the omega begins to struggle against his weight, worming an arm free and swinging a clawed hand toward Nagi’s throat.
He catches the wrist just in time, pulling his face out of the crook of Isagi’s neck and glaring down at the other striker. “What was that ab—” The omega cuts him off with a near-feral hiss, expression deadly as his free hand makes contact with Nagi’s bicep, nails sharp in his flesh and dragging until they manage to break skin. It takes but a moment to wrestle with the overly ferocious omega until Nagi has both of his wrists caught and pinned to the sheets above his head.
“Isagi.” His tone is a warning, laced with alpha command that he isn’t very familiar with using. It seems to work just the same as every coming-of-age hormone book has ever taught him, though. Isagi’s body fights the instinctive urge to obey with one final twist but when he finds his waning strength no match for Nagi’s posturing, he gives up. The fire in his eyes melts into something watery and pathetic as his muscles go slack, form loose and pliant finally beneath the alpha.
It’s an altogether invigorating scene. Nagi thinks he’s seen something similar staged at the end of an otome game he’d tried playing once. “Stay.” He orders, squeezing Isagi’s wrists once before slowly releasing him so that he can lean back and pick at his own scent patches to peel them free. He flicks the bandages off the side of the bed before returning his attention to a very conflicted omega.
Isagi stiffens when Nagi lowers himself back over him, but tilts his chin to the side to give the alpha space to tuck his head back into the crook of his neck. “Nagi, d-don’t—” He stutters half a plea before choking at the sensation of being scented. It would be suffocating if it didn’t immediately soothe every once-haywire nerve in his body.
“Don’t what?” Nagi’s voice is muffled as he drags his jaw along the slope of Isagi’s shoulder, but the deadpan tone of it deepens to something carefully curious and sends a chill down Isagi’s spine.
It takes a very long moment to clear his head enough to actually remember what he was going to say. The second he opens his mouth again, though, Nagi speaks first. “Wait,” He pulls his head back far enough to squint at Isagi, “Did you think I was going to try and bite you?” The omega’s face turns bright red in an instant and his attempt to turn away is stopped by Nagi’s hand at his cheek. The alpha tucks a stray lock of hair back behind his ear and Isagi stifles the beginnings of a purr building in his chest.
“Bachira would kill me.” Nagi says, as if it’s obvious that the threat of the other alpha was enough to curb his natural urges. Isagi smelled amazing, sure, and he played even better. All around, the omega was nothing less than a catch in the eyes of any alpha here at Blue Lock that would find out his true nature, but Bachira was very obviously insane. Nagi liked the idea of not having both of his shins broken because he wanted to be a mindless alpha acting purely on instinct.
“Wh-What do you mean, kill..?”
“It’s obvious he likes you. And now that I know you’re an omega it’s even more obvious that he probably really likes you.” Nagi shifts so that his hips are digging into the backs of Isagi’s thighs. He’s looking at him like he’s the idiot for being the only one out of the loop here.
“Oh.. then why..” Isagi’s cheeks heat up again as Nagi leans back in to continue smothering him in his scent. It’s no longer an unwelcome thing, but the position he’s put them in feels unnecessarily intimate.
“Because I can’t sleep if you’re going to be tossing and turning all night.” Nagi’s hands slip underneath Isagi to wrap around his waist in a loose embrace and he immediately collapses on top of him, his weight just enough to push the air out of the omega in a startled wheeze before they both just sort of naturally relax into one another.
“I’m going to bed.” He’s got his nose tucked up under Isagi’s chin and after a single, slow inhale, Nagi seems to be out like a light. His breath tickles Isagi’s neck, but it isn’t entirely unpleasant.
The omega can only sigh, still plenty bewildered by Nagi’s actions, but brings an arm down to drape over his shoulders anyway, fingers drifting to play with the ends of his hair. He stares up at the ceiling of their dorm and wonders why he feels so comfortable like this. Some far reaching memory from a biology course he barely paid attention to about Omegas wanting to be taken care of by an Alpha mixes with a very current idea of just liking being cared for by those closest to him and he thinks maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s just in their nature—but then again, isn’t it weird to do this platonically? The specifics of that class evade his recollection, so he decides not to dwell on it.
His purring starts up again, soft and barely audible, but he doesn’t try to shove it down this time. Isagi thinks he can feel Nagi respond in kind even though he’s in a dead sleep, and it makes his expression soften just a little.
Eventually sleep washes over him as well and he wonders if, whatever this is, it will become a regular thing to have his teammates fawn over him like this. He both hopes that it does, and that it doesn’t. If too many of the other alphas from their first selection team find out he’s an omega, Isagi doesn’t know what he’ll have to deal with. And Nagi was probably right—Bachira would be livid when they won him back just knowing that Isagi let another alpha get so close to him.
But that’s something Isagi can wait to worry about for a few days. For now he just has to keep busy with training and making sure they play well enough to get through to the end of second selection.