Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Thursday, 6:01AM

Sonny is running.

He’s running, his feet hitting the pavement under him, the muscles straining against this mockery of a workout. But it doesn’t matter. He has to keep running.

Rafael is right there in front of him, Sonny just has to keep running.

Each step gets him closer. Closer and closer to Rafael, when a shadow falls over him.  Rafael’s eyes widen in panic, as the shadow behind him morphs, turns into a human, a giant man, towering over Rafael.

Sonny feels the terror as if it’s his own.

He speeds up, his legs moving faster, hitting the pavement to propel himself further. He’s so close, he needs just the smallest push to get there!

Sonny jumps forward, his hand reaching out, and he can feel Rafael’s suit just on the edge of his fingertips-

Sonny

He tightens his grip only for Rafael to slip through it, as the man grabs Rafael across the body, his other hand pressing white fabric right to Rafael’s mouth. He pulls Rafael away, disappearing into nothing, while Sonny falls to the ground. His fingers tingle from the faint illusory touch, the sight of Rafael’s frightened eyes engraved in his brain.

He was close, he was so close…

Sonny

But when he looks up, there’s nothing but darkness all around him. Darkness and the faint trace

Sonny

of lavender coffee that suddenly becomes stronger. Sonny curls up around it, pressing his nose into the scent. There’s nothing

Sonny

left. Just the scent-

“Sonny!”

Sonny opens his eyes to see Amanda push the throw closer to his face carefully, trying to touch it as little as possible. Sonny blinks, dissipating the dream. Nightmare? Whatever it was.

“‘Manda?” he grumbles, rubs his eyes with a fist. Amanda smiles weakly at him.

“Time to switch. It’s my turn to crash,” she explains, stepping away to let her hair down from the low-ragged ponytail. Getting ready to catch just a smidge of sleep, Sonny realizes slowly. “C’mon. Shoo,” she adds, when Sonny doesn’t move.

The attempt on levity is nice, but any other time Amanda would have hit him with a pillow, then rolled him off the cot to fall on the floor, because usually Sonny sleeps on the bottom bunk like every other normal human.

Sonny jumps off the bed, turning his back to Amanda, as they both fret over their clothes with the comfort of people who have seen each other in multiple states of disarray. Sonny puts his shirt on but doesn’t button it up yet, just lets it flow over his body and drapes the throw over his shoulders. He closes the door behind himself, leaving Amanda to her… her business. Whatever it might be.

The low, barely audible gasp tells Sonny that sleep might have a question mark next to it on the agenda list.

The precinct is still on the quieter side, the night shift coming to an end with everyone dreaming of dreaming in their own beds, waiting for the day shift to switch them out. The lights are still partly off – somewhere in the middle between lighting up the whole building and letting everyone remember it’s still nighttime.

Sonny’s locker makes way too much noise for the silence that is covering the precinct, the quiet creak of the hinges slicing the air. Sonny takes out his small toiletries bag and turns towards the bathroom before stopping. 

If he goes like this, he will inevitably get water on the throw.

For some reason, even the smallest thought of somehow marring the throw brings Sonny physical pain, his inner alpha whining quietly. Sonny takes the throw off, bundling it up in his hands and stops short of putting it in the locker, more protests forming in his mind.

The locker is full of Sonny’s things, of Sonny’s scent that wouldn’t just migrate – as it is already doing from Sonny not letting go of it – but advance and overtake.

Taking it with himself to the bathroom is a no. Leaving it in the locker is a no.

Sonny shuts the locker close and walks out to the bullpen, where the lights are dimmed too, except for one part. Amaro and Fin are still sitting over the table, trying to find something useful. There are so many coffee cups around all the papers and letters that Sonny hasn’t even seen such an amount at the precinct before. The pizza boxes at least look touched, meaning they haven’t been trying to survive solely off of coffee the whole night.

They both look up at Sonny, and he can see the myriad of emotions in their eyes. The sympathy for him, the disappointment at themselves, the anger at the world. Sonny knows he must look especially pitiable – his hair mussed from restless sleep, dark circles under his glassy eyes, clutching the throw close like a small child who lost something important, something vital.

Amaro averts his gaze first as if he can’t keep looking at Sonny’s anguish. Well, that’s too bad, because Sonny came here for him.

Sonny walks closer, painfully aware of Fin watching his every move as if he’s waiting for Sonny to break apart any second. He stops to the side of Amaro and takes a grounding inhale of Rafael’s scent.

“Can you…” he starts, gripping the throw one more time before placing it on the table in front of Amaro, who looks up in shock. “Can you watch over it?”

Amaro’s reaction is exactly why Sonny sought him out. Only the other alpha can realize the importance of the item and just how much responsibility Sonny placed in front of him, how much trust. Right now that throw is everything Sonny has of his- the omega, and Sonny would rather die than let anything happen to it. And Amaro, whose protective instincts are so deeply bound with the rage and anger he possesses, is the perfect candidate for understanding the moment better than anyone else.

Amaro moves his things around the throw, his movements careful as to not touch, a slight show of reverence to the item. “Of course! Yeah, man, sure.”

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” Sonny says and walks away before something makes him turn.

Sonny watches Amaro watch the throw with the smallest hint of recognition and-

And a longing of his own.

Sonny’s inner alpha rises up with a jealous growl, ready to pounce and tear apart, but Sonny keeps it on a short leash. Sure, Amaro is looking, but he’s also not touching, perfectly aware that it’s not his place.

…not anymore.

The weird familiarity Rafael and Amaro share now shines in a new light.

Sonny shakes his head and finally moves to the bathroom. The mirror over the sinks tells him the exact story of what’s been happening for the last day, the messiness and brokenness visible as day on his face. He splashes some water on himself, uncaring for the droplets that end up on his shirt and undershirt. The cold passes through his body, awakening the cells that didn’t even get to fall asleep in the first place. He washes his face, his teeth before his fingers fall on the scent patches on his neck. His fingertips trail over the freed skin, feeling the unpleasant overcrowded tug inside the gland. Maybe Sonny should’ve thought of future him when he decided to spend almost twenty four hours wearing the damn patches.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he whispers with a deep sigh.

He kneads the skin some more, until the discomfort falls low enough for Sonny to ignore it once again. A new pair of scent patches is put on, and Sonny takes a minute – just a minute because he can’t afford to waste time – to stand over the sink, his hands gripping the material hard, and try to breathe. He chokes on the gasps that attempt to leave without his permission and lets himself let out one, just one shout.

A sound full of grief, and care, and helplessness, and love.

The only thing that stops Sonny from driving his fist in either the mirror or the sink is the fact that he needs both his hands to find Rafael.

When Sonny gets back to the bullpen – the toiletries already dropped off at the locker – his hair slightly damp at the roots and ends, the water droplets cascading his clothes, neither Fin nor Amaro say anything about his appearance or the slight rasp in his voice when he drops a thank you, collecting the throw.

The precinct is quiet, apart from the rare footsteps and coffee machine sounds. Sonny’s own coffee is more than bland, completely tasteless. Sonny pretends that the scent from the throw is enough.

Thursday, 7:49AM

The lights are on, people mulling all over the precinct, and only the bullpen stays relatively untouched, everyone walking around it in a wide berth, unwilling to touch the heavy atmosphere with a ten-meter pole. Fin mumbles something about washing all the coffee mugs, but nobody actually moves to do so.

The mugs can wait. Rafael can’t.

Amaro has started yawning from time to time, which made Sonny realize that Amaro was the only one who didn’t get to crash at the bunkroom, staying awake for more than 24 hours now. Amanda has around one and a half hours left before Amaro can get his own three hours. They should’ve put the first person to sleep before midnight, why didn’t anyone think of that?

Amaro looks dead on his feet. Amaro doesn’t look like he’d take the offer to go to sleep.

Amaro looks like he’s ready to tear every letter sender to shreds and make it so painful nobody will think about sending threats ever again.

Fin looks like he might turn away and pretend he doesn’t see Amaro breaking the law.

Sonny thinks he looks like a homeless puppy, curled up on the almost disintegrated cardboard, its fur wet and dirty. Shaking, whining. Crying out for its human. That’s what his inner alpha looks like half the time when he isn’t throwing himself on the cage bars, a wild wolf snapping his jaw menacingly, less than a step away from biting through flash and bone.

The case files fly before Sonny’s eyes. This one doesn’t have anyone bald, that one’s not big enough. The screenshot of the captor is pulled up on Sonny’s screen, but there is still no memory of how he knows the man. At least how long. Was it a recent case? Was it back from when Sonny just joined? He knows he saw him at the courthouse, but how long ago?

A takeout bag is placed in front of him, covering his view of the laptop. “-hello? Earth to Sonny?”

Sonny looks up to see Mike standing over him, his eyes holding naked concern. At least Mike is somewhat fresh – wearing new clothes, the bags under his eyes not nearly as prominent as everyone else’s.

Sonny’s inner alpha wants to be angry because Mike could’ve been helping them all night, but Sonny doesn’t let him. Instead he moves the bag away and points at the captor.

“Do you remember him?”

“Uh…” Mike frowns, looking like Sonny’s ma when she’s about to press the back of his hand to Sonny’s forehead to check for a fever. “Yes?”

“Not- not from yesterday!” Sonny explains. “From before that.”

“Before… yesterday?”

Sonny takes a deep breath, reminding himself Mike can’t read his mind. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ve seen him at the courthouse, but I just can’t grasp when or what case-”

“Wait, go back,” Mike raises his hands. “You’ve seen him?”

“Barely. Like passing each other in the hallway,” Sonny rakes his fingers through his already messy hair. He realizes he must look crazy, but he’s been searching through the suspect family lists for most of the night, while his inner alpha keeps shouting in despair. “There’s this one memory of some house but I can’t remember anything else about it, not who I was with, not what case that was or when, not even the damn wall color of that damn house! Do you remember him?”

Mike throws a look around the bullpen, sighing, as if waiting for someone else to come and help – if not bail – him out.

“No,” he breathes out at last, defeated. “Sorry.”

“No, no need to be sorry,” Sonny mumbles, already going back to his laptop and fixing the search. “That just means it must have happened before you joined, which means I was focusing on the wrong timeline. So I was on a case already, but you didn’t join yet, that gives us more of a timeframe.”

Mike sighs once again, but Sonny is too far gone in his rabbit hole to care. Nothing short of the end of the world would stop him now – even his own life or death completely meaningless in the face of finding Rafael. 

The takeout bag is shoved into Sonny’s chest. “Eat the breakfast, at least,” Mike says. “You need the energy.”

The guilt inside of Sonny rears its ugly head. Does Rafael have any food for his energy? it asks, but Sonny shuts it up by taking an angry bite. The food doesn’t taste like anything, which doesn’t matter. Sonny is eating to get some calories, not for his enjoyment.

Thursday, 9:08AM

Amanda comes back from the bunks, making two beelines – first for the bathroom, next for the coffee. When she tries to make Amaro go away for some sleep of his own, he waves her off.

“I told Liv I’d hold down the fort, so I’m doing exactly that,” he says with another sip of his coffee.

Sonny questions why, in the end, Amaro didn’t go for the sergeant exam, and goes back to his laptop.

Benson runs in, only to grab Mike and some things from her office, quickly checking in with Amaro, who tells her that he’s got everything under control.

“We might have gone over budget for coffee, but other than that we are fine,” he says, barely looking up from his task. “We’ve slept in shifts, eaten too. No substantial progress, I’ll call you when we finally land on something,” Amaro adds. When Benson still doesn’t leave, he shoos her away with an impatient flick of his wrist. “Go, do your job and trust us to do ours.”

Amaro doesn’t mention that not everyone has slept, Sonny realizes. He almost speaks up about it, but one look at Benson – so worried and unraveling, so unlike herself in the battle between her need to look for her friend and having to leave the search to everyone else while she works other cases – tells him that Amaro might be right about keeping quiet.

Benson leaves with Mike. The other four keep looking, nobody mentioning Amaro’s white lie.

Thursday, 10:46AM

Sonny barely registers the presence behind his back seconds before the person starts talking.

“How’s it going?” Amaro asks tiredly. Sonny can see him frown at the captor’s image still displayed at the screen, but the other alpha doesn’t say anything.

“It’s not,” Sonny replies dejectedly, because he’s no closer to the mysterious baldie than he was hours ago. One file is closed only for another to open. Endless process.

Amaro hums. Doesn’t say anything else. Sonny is about to ask what Amaro needs, when the understanding finds him – Amaro requires a break in order to keep going.

The entire process is violent, the fruitless search and endless chase after clues tearing out every vein and artery that connect to the heart, drowning the brain in helpless perpetuity of being so close and so far at the same time. Amaro might not have the same feelings for Rafael as Sonny does, but they are not strangers either – on the contrary, they know the ins and outs of each other that no one else in the room has been allowed to be privy to.

With a start Sonny realizes that everyone in the squad has that special little connection to Rafael, something uniquely theirs that never repeats itself. And still everyone has taken a step back to keep their own feelings and reactions in check – as much as possible – because Sonny, as they think, has it worse.

Sonny can give some of that support back right now.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, simultaneously reaching for the bag Mike brought earlier and kicking the visitor chair closer. Amaro takes the hint and plops down as if the ropes have been cut, leaving him to slouch like a discarded puppet. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head at the bag, but if Sonny’s alpha is good for anything it’s taking care, so he pushes the food into Amaro’s hands. “Eat. Usually a person gets energy from both food and sleep, we can’t let you go on without at least one.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Apparently I do if I don’t want you to drop dead in the middle of the precinct when we need you the most,” Sonny bites back, already focused on his laptop screen once again.

He can indulge Amaro’s break while staying on his own task, because they can’t have two people doing nothing at the same time. They are already down to only four working on it, as Benson and Mike handle everything else.

The files fly by again. Sonny burrows deeper in the throw, sliding down a bit lower in his chair.

“How…” Amaro swallows heavily. “How can you keep looking at that?” he asks in the end, points at the captor’s photo with his chin.

“I have to.”

The answer is simple, no need to explain any further. Both of the alphas have already heard the second part of the sentence without anyone saying it out loud.

And then the thought hits, just as sudden as it did with Mike.

“Do you remember him?” The question tumbles out, weak and pathetic, because if Mike’s reaction taught him anything is that if anyone else had any recollection of meeting that man, they would’ve spoken out already.

Amaro proves him right. “No.”

Sonny nods, not looking away. If nobody remembers seeing the man, then Sonny was wrong about the timeline, but then he doesn’t have anything. He doesn’t know which one is worse. Sonny is about to ask whether Amaro and the others have any clues but thinks better. He’s not ready to hear another feeble no.

They sit in silence for some minutes as Amaro slowly eats the rest of Sonny’s – courtesy of Mike – food. Amaro could have gone literally anywhere else in the precinct, why did he-

It’s the scent, isn’t it?

Sonny doesn’t know whether Amaro is as familiar with the lavender as Sonny himself, but the mix of the flower and coffee must soothe Amaro’s inner alpha too, right?

Sonny can understand. Can let Amaro sit at his desk for some more time, until the other man feels not as awful.

Thursday, 12:22PM

“How do we still have nothing?” Amanda shouts, throws her pen to the floor. The poor pen bounces a couple of times before coming to a stop somewhere on the floor.

Sonny doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn. He’s accumulated a folder of possible suspects over the… nineteen? Hours he’s spent in front of his laptop. None of them feel right, though. Amaro took the liberty of switching his task to following up on Sonny’s little list somewhen at night, and apparently Mike has been running back and forth from their new cases and checking out Amaro’s points.

Nothing. Complete nothing.

“It’s been almost twenty four hours since we found out!” Amanda continues. “And still-”

“Take a walk,” comes Amaro’s gruff voice in reply.

“I don’t want to take a walk! I want to-”

Sonny can hear the low grumble of Amaro’s growl. “To what?” he asks sharply, and Sonny’s brain tunes the argument a bit louder in his head, puts it somewhere closer from the background. “Find Barba? You think everyone else here doesn’t? You think Carisi isn’t dying inside every moment we have nothing?”

If Sonny had dog ears, they’d perk up at hearing his name. Instead he drags the conversation closer to the front of his mind.

“I- I didn’t mean-”

“Then either take a walk or sit down and get back to work,” Amaro cuts the discussion off.

Sonny wonders why Fin keeps quiet. Is the beta afraid of putting himself in the middle of an alpha dispute? It’s never a pleasant experience, however Amaro’s not filling the air with his pheromones as he would have months before. Mike’s appearance has made a lot of things better around here.

Thursday, 2:41PM

Amanda has left. Benson and Mike needed help, and there was no more use sitting over the letters, bringing them from one pile to another, trying to find another secret meaning or tiniest clue. So Amaro told Amanda to go.

Someone on the outside would think that letting Sonny go would be preferable but no. Out of the three alphas the most stable one absolutely surprisingly turned out to be Amaro – and everyone should be thankful for Mike Dodds’s appearance in their unit. Then it’s Sonny walking the fine line of hysterics and dissociation. And lastly was Amanda, ready to blow up almost any moment.

Also making Sonny leave would have had the opposite to helping effect of leaving Sonny one-on-one with the empty helplessness and useless futility.

And at least one non-alpha is preferable to be a part of their mini task force.

So Amanda it was.

There is no smalltalk, no polite inquiries – all three men sit quietly over their own laptops in an attempt to find anything, while Amaro keeps answering Benson’s calls with a “I will call you” before promptly throwing his phone away in annoyance. Not at Benson, no, but at his own inability to do something.

Sonny could have never imagined that their answer would find them himself.

He misses the beginning of the conversation, only plugs his attention in at the sound of his own surname.

“-Detective Carisi,” a man’s voice comes from the elevator hallway.

“Talk to Detective Carisi?..” the uni replies uncertainly, as if he’s afraid of bothering Sonny with anything at the moment.

“It’s important,” the voice says, both sure of its truth and afraid of speaking out. Sonny’s interest is definitely picked, the conversation moving from subconscious acknowledgment to deliberate attention.

“I believe so-” the uni stops himself short, and this time Sonny can sense the unease in the air, which makes him save everything he’s been working on and start turning, preparing to stand up. “Hold on,” the uni’s words become urgent. “Hold the fuck on, you are-”

The exclamation makes all of them – Sonny, Amaro, Fin, all three – turn sharply to see-

To see the exact man they’ve been looking for.

Sonny is out of his place before anyone else has the time to realize what’s going on, the chair screeching against the floor and falling down loudly. The sound triggers everyone else into motion, but Sonny crosses the space in several long strides, letting the speed build up the momentum until he pushes the man into the wall with a resounding crash. The man’s head meets the surface behind him with almost a crack, but he doesn’t push Sonny back, just holds his hands up in peaceful surrender.

Sonny knows Amaro and Fin are right behind him, their guns drawn out, but not shooting, not yet. Not when Sonny is standing in between them and the captor, his hands almost ripping the man’s shirt apart where they grip it over the man’s chest. Sonny’s gaze is burning, the pheromones only slightly dampened by the patches. The man’s gasoline rock scent swirls in embarrassment, in an attempt to retreat.

“So you are-” the captor starts, but Sonny doesn’t want to hear a single thing that isn’t an answer to his questions.

“Where is he? What did you do to him?” he asks. Seethes. Growls.

Sonny doesn’t even care that he has to look up at this mountain of a man. Sonny doesn’t care about anything that isn’t Rafael.

“The omega’s fine,” the man says, which is simultaneously what Sonny needs and not what Sonny asked. Which makes Sonny want to press further, shake the man and push him back into the wall a couple times until all the hits to his bald head finally fix whatever’s wrong with his brain, if it even exists. However the way it was said… The quiet, the caution. Those make Sonny wait. His inner alpha lays down, the motion full of deceit – it’s not backing down, it’s crouching with the intent to pounce. “I just wanted to say that I wouldn’t have done it if I knew.”

Sonny’s patience is finite.

“Knew what?” he growls, his fingers tightening further, his frame pressing the man into the wall stronger.

“That she- the omega’s taken.”

Two things get perceived at the same time. The one to win is the pronoun issue that looks like a slip-up, like the man realized that Sonny wouldn’t react favorably to such sexism.

It wins because suddenly a memory hits Sonny square in the chest.

“An alpha has a right to do so,” McAllister seethed, his face barely hiding the mounting rage. His smell for sure had to have become stronger – men like McAllister never learnt the simple cultural norms of keeping scents as non-invasive as possible. “An alpha has a right to do whatever he wants.”

Sonny breathed out slowly. What’s one more sexist remark?

“He or she, you mean?” Rafael countered quickly, which is a much better way of phrasing Sonny’s thoughts.

The awe, the respect, the admiration all flowed through Sonny’s body, only to morph into a single entity of warmth. Of love, if Sonny was honest.

A chair scraped the floor. “O- objection! Uhm… Relevance?..”

Sonny scoffed at the defense counsel. Sonny might not understand himself why Rafael decided to point out the pronoun issue, but the door was opened by the defense when they spent way too much time on discussing the biological aspect of gender. Then Sonny saw it – McAllister’s front had broken. His jaw locked uncomfortably, his nails must have dug into his palms. Rafael got exactly what he wanted – a reaction that spoke of fury and disgust at being questioned.

“Withdrawn,” Rafael threw out off-handedly. “Basically what you’ve said is an alpha can do…” he waved his hand around. “Whatever, even if it’s against the omega’s wishes, correct?”

“An omega can’t have a wish that disagrees with her alpha’s.”

Sonny’s fists itched to teach McAllister that primary and secondary genders don’t have to align. Sonny’s scent would have springed up if not for the patches, and he still made a conscious effort to dampen it. His inner alpha shouted at him to stand up and protect Rafael against this filth of human waste, but he kept the cage shut. Rafael doesn’t need an alpha to fight his battles.

Sonny knows exactly who stands behind this whole thing. Who orchestrated the kidnapping.

Sonny does not know anything about Rafael being taken and how that is connected to Sonny.

“Taken?” he repeats, watching the man’s reaction intently.

Rafael does not have a mate, Sonny is sure of that, there is no way he could have missed a whole partner. There is no way Rafael would behave himself like he does with Sonny if he was taken.

The word keeps spinning around Sonny’s mind, not letting him move on. Rafael would’ve trusted Sonny with the knowledge of having a partner, right?

Anyway, why would Rafael just give that information out to his captor? How would that even happen? Rafael woke up from his chloroform-induced nap, was offered a drink and decided to talk about his partner over a cup of tea while munching on biscuits?

The captor chances a look at the precinct gathered behind Sonny’s back before finally talking.

“I know you didn’t officiate ‘cause of the possible problems at work,” he explains in a lower voice as if trying to keep this conversation just between the two of them. “Which is entirely your deal, not judging here. Just wanted to say that if you already put a bite on- on the omega, there wouldn’t be such a misunderstanding, right? Though it’s very noble of you to do the courting shebang, straight out of a romantic movie, you know?” The man keeps rambling, going further and further away from Sonny’s understanding.

There’s a low rumble from the personnel behind Sonny’s back.

“Didn’t know they were…” Fin says quietly.

“They are not,” comes Amaro’s even quieter reply.

The resolution is final in Amaro’s words, which finally snaps Sonny back into reality.

“Did Rafael tell you that?” Sonny asks with a frown.

“Yeah! Again, man, if I knew, I’d never go for it, okay?” The captor starts up once again. “I’d never go between an alpha and his omega, never touch something that belongs to someone else!”

This time Sonny does shake the man, making him hit that stupid bald head against the wall. For some reason it only makes the man talk more.

“McAllister mentioned his plans, so the omega talked to me today, okay? Told me you were courting! Told me it was your decision, that you were brought up thinking that’s the only way!”

The frown deepens as Sonny looks through the words, searching for any semblance of sense – it simply doesn’t add up.

Until it does.

This is the same cult they dug against not so long ago – and successfully imprisoned one of their members around a month or two ago. The same cult that decided omegas cannot have wishes of their own, cannot have autonomy.

And Rafael knows it perfectly.

“He told you I’m courting him?” Sonny asks once again, adds some disbelief in it as if he’s disgruntled at the mere notion. The whispers behind his back grow in volume.

“Yes! Really knows h- omega’s place, you taught that one well-”

Sonny lets his inner alpha out for a quick scare, the pheromones strike through the air like lightning. The captor tries to cover, but Sonny’s grip doesn’t let him.

Rafael, his smart, cunning, quick-on-his-feet Rafael knew exactly what he was doing.

Sometimes the only way to get out is to play the system, make everyone believe you are on their side. In Rafael’s case that would mean being a docile little partner, following every command, every off-handed motion, every sneeze. Rafael’s only exit lay in trusting that this man in front of Sonny would feel bad enough for stealing from another alpha that he would do his best to fix the situation and find the “owner” himself, bring the help to Rafael.

Sonny’s resourceful and nimble Rafael, holding on tight to the hope of Sonny looking for him, finding him in time. Sonny will make damn sure Rafael doesn’t regret believing in him.

Now he just needs to sell the overprotective, furious alpha bit. Not that it would be difficult.

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! I swear!” the captor replies in panic. “I just brought food down to the basement-”

“The basement?” Sonny growls lowly.

“Not the horror slasher kind! It’s got warm floors!”

Sonny will ensure the man’s prison cell is either as cold as they make them or as hot as Hell itself.

“You are going to tell us everything,” Sonny says slowly, as the man nods furiously. “Every tiny thing, no matter how unimportant you deem it. Understood?”

“Yeah, of course! I’m telling you-”

Sonny doesn’t let him finish whatever brainwashed shit he was about to spiel. Instead Sonny steps back and uses all of his strength to throw the captor into whoever is standing behind him. Doesn’t move himself. Waits until the scent is gone and hits the wall in front of him, letting the fury out, pulling his hand back again-

His arm is stopped with a strong, yet gentle grip.

“He’s not worth it, Carisi,” Amaro says quietly, even if his eyes hold as much – if not more – anger. But if anyone knows just how strong the desire to hit is, it would be Amaro. “Barba’s okay. We are going to get the address now and get Barba back,” he pats Sonny on the shoulder. “Take a few to get ready. I’m calling Liv to let her know we are moving out as soon as possible.”

Sonny nods and looks at the wall thoughtfully, as if longing for another crash against his knuckles. The small flair of pain felt grounding – Sonny felt another point of connection with Amaro – however the other alpha tugs on his shoulder to move him away. The departure from the tiny moment of reassuring emptiness is scratching at Sonny’s brain in the worst of ways, but Amaro is right.

Thursday, 3:14PM

“Once again, I did not break any laws!” the man shouts, the table shaking under his struggle, but the cuffs stay on. “McAllister asked me to help teach that omega her place-”

Amaro’s fingers clutch the table white-knuckled tight, as the man leans over. Fin leans back in his chair, one raised eyebrow indicating all the words on his mind.

The window catches the change in light reflection, so Sonny refocuses his gaze on the glass itself, watching Benson stop next to him. She’s slouching a bit, while Sonny’s posture is rod-straight. Her eyes take in everything – starting with Sonny’s crossed arms and finishing with the captor.

“He looks even bigger in real life,” Benson mutters, hugging herself.

Sonny hums, the sound neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The man felt like a mountain towering over Rafael on the security cam footage, and Sonny definitely didn’t like raising his head up just to look at him. However now that Sonny has seen him in interrogation…

That is one of the smallest men Sonny has ever seen. Weak, ready to roll over at the tiniest hint of a person in power wishing him to. To step over himself in order to earn a back-handed approval and nothing more.

The saddest thing about it all? Sonny can still see the genuine care of someone wanting to do the right thing. The problem lay in having been taught the reverse, in seeing right in left, in mistaking dark for light.

“I brought the food down, I even gave some coffee despite it being horrendous for an omega!” the man wails as if he’s confessing to a mortal sin. “She- he asked for some, and I brought it this morning. And then sh- he told me he already has an alpha! And it’s not cool to steal from another alpha, I never would’ve helped McAllister if I knew it beforehand, okay?!”

Sonny can’t help the amused snort, even when it gathers the wrong kind of attention from Benson. “Of course Rafael would make his kidnapper get him coffee before trying to get out,” he explains with a small smile that gains a staggered laugh from Benson.

“He had to wake his brain up before being able to think,” she replies almost wistfully before turning to study Sonny with her eyes. “Rafa never told me you were together-”

“That’s ‘cause we are not,” Sonny shrugs, his mouth opening up once again to continue, when the scene in the interrogation room interrupts them.

“You wanna explain that to his alpha?” Fin asks with the boredom of a dictator that long passed the retirement age. “‘Cause I can arrange it real quick,” he finds purchase in the table before him, ready to stand up, when the captor squeaks out a no. “Then talk.”

“That timing did not help me,” Sonny sighs, watching the man stumble through the planning process.

“It certainly did not,” Benson nods.

Sonny shakes his head before proceeding. “Does our… relationship look like courting?” he stops thinking over his next steps. How much is he ready to reveal to Rafael’s best friend who also happens to be Sonny’s boss?

Now that Sonny knows how easy it is to lose everything in one single moment, he’s not afraid of confessing.

“Sure. Do I want it to be so? Obviously. Do I… possibly include that intention? Yes.”

At that Benson turns to face him fully, the calculation in her eyes burning bright.

“But can I also respect that he is not ready and wait until he is?” Sonny looks at Benson, begging her to see his resolve. “I can. And I will.”

“What if… What if he’s never ready?” Benson asks carefully, which makes Sonny’s heart skip a beat.

He looks at the other alpha with a frown. Does she know something? The way Benson meets his eyes tells him everything. It’s not a secret she’s been harboring from Sonny, it’s just a test.

“Then I wait,” he replies simply. “Even if it’s for eternity. I’ll always wait for him. My heart is already his.”

Benson lets out a noncommittal sound, but Sonny can see her approval of his answer, a best friend’s blessing to go ahead.

Another voice shifts all the attention to itself. “We are ready to move out,” Amanda says from the head of the hallway, breaking the moment apart. She has a bulletproof vest in her hands as if she isn’t sure whether they are going to need it.

“No weapons in the house,” Sonny answers the unasked question. “Should be fine.”

Amanda nods and shifts the vest in her hands, ready to plop it off somewhere on the way.

Thursday, 5:21PM

The street is full of identical looking houses, all picture-perfect American dream happiness. The green lawn of the front yards, mostly hidden away by the fences, but still letting everyone have a peak at the kid toys strewn all around the grass. The cars are hidden inside the garages or parked strictly.

The peace is serene.

Do the neighbors know just how fake it is?

That this house, at the dead end of their street, is lightyears away from everyone else? That the deceiving warmth of orange-painted walls and fences is covering up the coldness of the moral decay? That for every toy and a child’s shriek of joy there is a cry of anguish from the omega parent?

The cult’s previous neighbors were none the wiser, whole-heartedly believed in the image McAllister and his followers presented to everyone around them. At least until the SVU came knocking down on doors and exposing the truth.

Hence the reason they moved.

The address change soothes Sonny’s soul because even if he somehow managed to remember the captor, they’d still be no closer physically, not with the tangled ways of the house’s ownership.

A girl is sitting on the staircase, watching over a toddler playing in the grass, a baby held tightly in her arms. The girl looks unnatural, like she was cut out from another life and inserted into this one.

Sonny knows it’s true because they looked into her past when investigating the cult. Sonny knows that she was a day over the legal age for consent when she was mated off. Sonny knows they couldn’t do anything because no law was broken against her.

“Wasn’t their previous house orange too?” Amanda asks – the other person who went with Sonny to the original house, as it turned out. “Like obnoxiously orange?”

“Yeah,” Sonny replies off-handedly, his attention focused on the floorplan in front of him, looking for the best route to the basement.

“And some of the rooms? And a lot of the omegas’ clothes?”

“Uhuh.”

Amanda sighs. “Why the fuck orange?”

“Well, it’s the color of fertility,” Mike mumbles over Sonny’s shoulder, tracing a finger over the floorplans. Sonny turns sharply, sees Amanda do the same from the corner of his eye. “What? Red for love and passion, yellow for happiness and hope, and together it’s orange…” Mike rants with something that feels suspiciously like embarrassment. “My mother is into a lot of stuff, okay? She bought me way too many orange clothes to- you get the picture,” he waves them off at the end, blushing.

Sonny nods seriously, going back to imagining the road in his mind.

“Huh,” Amanda rubs a hand over her face, taps Sonny on the shoulder with the back of her palm. “Remind me to get rid of everything orange in every available to me apartment and wardrobe.”

Sonny nods again before registering the words.

“You know that if you don’t want any more children humanity invented condoms and birth-control- ouch!” he exclaims when Amanda actually hits him. Mike snorts close by but quickly morphs his expression into one of sternness under Amanda’s threatening gaze.

“Okay, children,” Benson calls for attention, getting inside the van. “Let’s go over everything once again. How many people do we have inside?”

“Supposed to be eight adults and five kids,” Mike retorts. “Four alphas, four omegas – one pregnant. One of the omegas is sitting outside with two of the kids, so we should get them out of range first. Try not to scare the kids too.”

Benson nods. “Amanda, take care of that. We don’t want any unnecessary complications, so, Mike, you are to handle everything concerning the omegas.”

“We don’t want them thinking any of you are trying to steal their property, I get it,” Mike rolls his eyes at the way all the alphas let out an involuntary growl.

“Not property-” Amaro starts, but Mike talks over him.

“Yes-yes, you all disagree with it,” he says with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “I know. Let’s get Barba back already before I go crazy with just you.”

When Amanda approaches the house, the girl looks up, shying away first as if she’s expecting a danger before recognizing her.

“You again?” the girl asks, calling for the toddler with just her hand. “What is it this time?”

“You don’t know?” Amanda strikes back. The girl shrugs. “We need you to step away from the house.”

“Am I arrested?”

“I’d like to do without, but I can.”

The girl must see that Amanda is deathly serious. She picks up the toddler and moves behind the fence, where a crowd of noisy neighbors is already gathering, interested in why there is a group of police in front of the house. Amanda stays with the girl and the kids, as everyone else makes their way to the front door.

The wind is bypassing Sonny’s suit jacket, flowing straight through his shirt – no vest to prevent that route – chilling the skin on his chest slightly. The coolness is welcomed as it soothes the heated nerves. Sonny’s fingers itch to take out his gun, but Benson said to avoid weapons as much as possible, so Sonny keeps his hand close to the holster without actually touching it. His brain feels like mush, treading through is a chore barely possible, but Sonny perseveres only with the help of the knowledge that Rafael is a couple walls away.

The door opens, and Sonny realizes that he completely missed the part where someone from the squad knocked and announced their arrival. He needs to get his head back in the game, damn it! He knows better than to let his thoughts drift away in situations like this!

“Hello- you again?”

Sonny hates having regulars, but he can’t say that this moment isn’t fun – the way their faces turn into blatant distaste, always coupled with the “you again”.

“Us again,” Benson replies with a hint of pride in her voice. “Are you going to invite us in?”

Sonny blocks out the rest of the conversation, already focused on disintegrating the air down to molecules, trying to feel Rafael’s scent once again. He looks over the alpha’s shoulder, but there’s nothing except for orange walls visible between the man’s statue and the door.

The nerves are wrecking Sonny’s soul apart, switching to his body in the desire to pick at his nails. He barely stops himself only when his hands meet together, so he clutches them behind his back, watching the way Amaro leans on the doorframe-

And okay, maybe all five of them standing on the porch is unnecessary, but kidnapping Rafael was totally unnecessary too, so who is the cult to judge?

“You have a warrant?” the man sighs exhaustedly, pressing his fingers against his nose.

Amaro lets out the devil smirk, reaching into his jacket to retrieve the paper. “We do. Are you going to waste more of our time? Because I’m telling you, accessory to kidnapping isn’t that high of a title.”

The lawyer in Sonny frowns, but it’s deafened by his inner alpha scratching at the cage, aware that Rafael is finally in reach.

The man opens the door further, letting them in with a scrutinous look. “McAllister! We’ve got guests in blue!” he shouts.

Sonny doesn’t care any more. He’s on a mission.

Sonny turns left, walking the hallways straight in the direction of the kitchen under the man’s indignant “Hey! Where’s he going?”, and he hears the others block the way behind him. He turns once again right before reaching the kitchen, his hand falling on a door knob to the basement, when his inner alpha shoots out of the cage.

The scent is putrid. Hateful. Fishy.

Sonny knows who it is without seeing for himself.

The sense of danger moves through the layers of clothes, imprinting itself on his back, so Sonny moves. He puts his hand up, shielding himself, as he turns, barely registering the burning cold slashing across his forearm. Right in front of him now is the reason for Sonny’s anguish over the last thirty-six hours. The reason Sonny is ready to let his inner alpha out for an uncontrolled walk.

McAllister stands with a kitchen knife that drips blood onto the hardwood.

“Kidnapping and assaulting a police officer?” Sonny growls, straightening his posture slowly, menacingly. “You are racking up charges, Mister McAllister.”

“I didn’t assault anyone,” McAllister hisses in reply, his grip playing over the knife. “I was protecting my home from an invader.”

“Doesn’t work like that-”

McAllister strikes once again, and this time his brain must’ve come online because his arm moves in a downward arc poised to stab instead of slash. However Sonny doesn’t even need to be a trained officer to dodge – his inner alpha is enough. The animal inside takes the wheel, pushing Sonny to step aside in a half-circle, then use all of his weight to throw himself against the other man, press him into the wall with a loud noise that resonates down the hall.

“Carisi?!” someone shouts, but Sonny doesn’t acknowledge them.

McAllister struggles under him, striking back with the knife, so Sonny pushes him into the wall further under the accompaniment of frightened footsteps running towards him. Sonny grabs the hand with the knife, twisting at the wrist until McAllister cries out and finally drops it to the floor. Sonny kicks it away, leading McAllister’s hand behind his back and then further, higher, to the point when the joints start whaling in pain and then some, until a new danger is perceived by his inner alpha-

“It’s me, it’s Amaro!” Amaro says urgently, when Sonny turns to him with a threatening growl. “Jesus Christ, we let you out of our sight for a minute…”

“Carisi!” Benson appears in the hallway too.

Quickly, McAllister – still grouching about having the right to protect what’s his – is handed off to Amaro who leads him away. Sonny tries to get to the basement, he doesn’t have the time, but Benson grabs him gently, her fingers hovering over Sonny’s forearm.

“Are you okay? That looks superficial, did he manage to actually strike?” she asks, and only that makes Sonny realize that the blood was his own. He looks at his ripped sleeves, but the wound is shallow, nothing that could prevent Sonny from going on. “I knew I should’ve made all of you wear vests, what was I thinking-”

“‘Cause a vest would’ve definitely saved me from a scratch on my arm,” Sonny throws out, moving past Benson to the door. “I’m fine, whatever, I need to-”

“Go.”

As if Sonny needed permission.

He flies down the stairs, reaching inside his jacket for the key the Mountain – “The who?” “He’s big and smells of rock, Jesus, ‘Manda, keep up!” – gave him back at the precinct. There are multiple doors, but Sonny doesn’t waste any time, he already knows which one he needs. He runs to the furthest door – because of course it would be the furthest door – and that’s when the scent hits him.

There’s nothing but coffee. Even worse – nothing but badly burnt coffee that was left to gather new civilization. It’s so awful there isn’t even a place for the ink. Just the pain of omega distress coupled with bitter burnt coffee.

Sonny throws the door open, almost dislocates his own shoulder in the process. 

And feels his heart relax at seeing Rafael, his Rafael unharmed, wearing his own pants and undershirt, definitely his own socks because Sonny knows that pair – it looks like polka dots only to reveal itself as animal faces when further looked at.

Rafael covers at the corner of the bed, his head between his knees, as if in this short time he already has learnt to associate the sound of the door with something that invokes fear. Sonny’s inner alpha cries out in pain, and Sonny can’t stop himself from walking closer, everything else already forgotten – the orange interior coupled with orange sheets and Mike’s voice explaining the color's meaning, all falling away together with the second door that opens to the bathroom. The only important part of Sonny’s life is right before him, terrified out of his mind, and Sonny can’t handle seeing that.

“Rafael,” he calls out, and Rafael’s head snaps up instantly.

“Sonny?” he breathes out, looks like he doesn’t believe his own vision.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sonny puts on a smile, and it’s watery, and he doesn’t care. “I’m here. I found you.”

And suddenly the coffee isn’t burning anymore. The sourness moves away, dragging the distress with itself, and their departure reveals the ink that gets overpowered with the lavender almost instantaneously. Sonny’s legs bring him even closer without his order, as Rafael uncurls from his position, reaching out with a slightly shaky hand and definitely shakier eyes. Sonny is one more step away from the bed, when his inner alpha prepares for another strike – although this time it’s completely different. This time it’s still predatory, but not in the wish to tear apart no. It’s to take and to claim and to protect-

The sweet underhint of Rafael’s scent finally registers after having waited in line for way too long.

“Oh shit,” Sonny exclaims, stumbling back into the doorframe because the room is smaller than a shoebox. “Shit, shit-” he repeats, while Rafael drops his hand, moving back to his curled up position. The lavender withers right on Sonny’s tongue. “No-no-no, shit! Rafael, I’m-”

His inner alpha is screaming, his human side is screaming, Sonny is ready to scream too. He needs to get to Rafael, needs to pull the other man in his arms and never let go, but he also knows better than to touch an omega in heat without a discussion held in advance.

However Rafael is closing off further, moving dangerously close to a rejection territory, and Sonny can’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, I was just surprised, nothing more,” he says, walking back to the bed, and Rafael falls into his open arms with a low whine that cuts Sonny’s heart. “Shh, I’m sorry, I’m right here,” he murmurs, one hand gripping tight at Rafael’s back and the other hidden in Rafael’s hair, playing with it subconsciously.

Rafael fits so right. His head is right under Sonny’s chin, his arms hugging Sonny’s body, and it feels like hanging up your favorite painting so the walls would stop feeling so empty. Like slotting a puzzle piece into the missing place. Like coming back home to its familiarity from a long stay away. Sonny finally feels complete, like both him and Rafael are right where they belong – with each other.

But Rafael also noses closer to Sonny’s scent gland, and the pheromones leave a sweet aftertaste that Sonny knows not to follow.

Sonny needs someone who can take care of Rafael without having their instincts throttling them from the inside, someone who can get Sonny himself to back away and stand up to the animal inside.

Sonny has the perfect person upstairs.

“Mike!” he shouts into the still open door, feeling Rafael’s fingers dig deeper into Sonny’s back. “Mike!”

There’s the sound of footsteps once again running down the stairs, probably responding to the near-fear in Sonny’s voice. There is definitely enough anxiety and discomfort to fill it up to the brim. Police Academy drilled into everyone going through its walls that you should keep your cool and never, under any circumstances worry your partner without a good enough reason. But this is a good enough reason! Rafael is always a good enough reason!

“Sonny? You okay?” Mike’s urgency travels from the hallway, so Sonny looks over his shoulder only to see Mike halt at the doorframe.

“I need your help,” Sonny croaks, even if the last thing he wants to do right now is leave Rafael.

“My… help?” Mike frowns. He sniffs the air – and inconspicuousness has left the room long before Mike entered it – before taking a step back. “Oh no, you are handling this one on your own.”

What…

“What?” Sonny asks, dumbfounded.

“What?” Mike repeats like he doesn’t understand why Sonny can’t follow his logic.

Now they just need Rafael to say it too. So he wouldn’t feel left out or something.

Mike looks like he wants to back further away, which is not why Sonny called him! However the longer Mike is silent, the more relaxed Rafael gets, and Sonny wants to smack himself upside the head because how could he have missed Rafael tensing up? When Rafael is cradled in his arms, right against his chest, so close to his heart?

Mike still doesn’t say anything, and as much as Sonny wants to stay exactly like this, he needs something done – preferably yesterday – about the whole heat thing before his inner alpha can’t be held back anymore-

Wait.

Why is his inner alpha satisfied with simply having Rafael in his arms, isn’t trying to push Sonny into trampling Rafael under his body and having his wicked horny way?

Mike sighs in that sense the teachers do when they have to explain for the hundredth time that ‘color the hat red’ means you have to pick up the red crayon and drag it across the paper until the hat is filled with the color. There is a ghost of Sonny’s elementary school teacher possessing the sound, bringing out the fairly-forgotten childish shame at being explained something like you are a baby that can’t understand complex words.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Mike says, almost flinches at the way Rafael’s grip tightens. “What do you think you need help with?”

Sonny frowns, his fingers scratching lightly at Rafael’s scalp – which Sonny only realizes he’s doing when Rafael starts purring. “You can’t not feel it,” Sonny states despite his words having an unsure questioning tilt. Mike simply angles his head, prompting Sonny to explain further. “The heat. It’s in the air.”

“You are that far behind,” Mike almost whistles, which makes Sonny stutter indignantly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll keep it short. You know how they still haven’t really studied the omega physiology? Well, this is one of those moments,” Sonny opens his mouth to say… say something, anything, but Mike simply shakes his head. “It’s a type of fake heat. Basically the same as your usual heat, just without the constant arousal and other gifts of nature.”

“Oh,” Sonny says because oh indeed. “So, uhm… How lucid are we talking?”

And then one of the best things in Sonny’s life happens.

“Lucid enough to be embarrassed,” Rafael speaks up, and the sound of his voice should be used in church because it has healing properties. It’s a cool salve that cures the ragged burn left by everything that’s been happening the last two days. Rafael’s lips move somewhere over Sonny’s collarbone, spreading the pleasant warmth all over Sonny’s tortured soul.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says finally, turning his face to Rafael’s head, and his nose hits the hair – Sonny can’t help himself.

He noses at the strands, simultaneously enjoying the opportunity to do so and cringing internally at the stagnant bitterness and distress still stuck to the hair. Sonny will just have to wash them clean- oh, hold on, he’s running in front of the train, isn’t he?

“Looks like you’ve got it!” Mike shows him-

“Really? A thumbs-up?”

The question works its way out of Sonny without his permission, and Rafael jolts a couple of times like he’s chuckling at Sonny’s bewilderment. Sonny feels a gentle smile bloom on his lips.

“Whatever. Bye-”

“No! No, wait,” Sonny asks, feeling Rafael burrow closer. The action makes him frown – it’s not out of necessity, not out of any positive feeling because Sonny can sense the sour changes in Rafael’s scent. From the way Mike reacts – retreats even further, breathes shallower – he does too. “What do I do?”

“What do you- the exact thing you’ve been wanting to?” Mike ridicules all of Sonny’s drunken – and not so much – confessions in a single short sentence. Sonny’s cheeks heat up at being called out. “Get the patches off, maybe cover him up in your jacket, but most importantly let me leave already! I’ll get Fin to stay close by if you need help-”

“Why Fin and not you?”

Sonny thought Mike would be the perfect candidate for help. He knows, or at least better understands, what Rafael is going through, so he can tell Sonny what to do, right?

Mike mutters something suspiciously close to use your brain. “Remember how your instincts make you see every other alpha as competition?” he then asks out loud. Sonny nods. “Now reverse that. I’m staying outside the room, with the scent patches on, and Rafael still sees me as a threat, no offense obviously. But I don’t want to make it worse by staying longer than necessary.”

“I’m sorry,” Rafael still drops quietly, so quiet that Mike wouldn’t have heard it even if he didn’t leave the moment he was done talking.

And this time Sonny pays close attention to the way Rafael melts now that it’s only the two of them.

“No need, Raf,” he says. “It’s instincts. And it’s not like I would be any better in your place.”

Rafael noses at Sonny’s neck once again, which makes him remember the scent patches. Taking one hand off of Rafael is the hardest challenge of Sonny’s life, so he keeps repeating to himself that it’s for the better. And the faster Sonny’s done, the sooner he can go back to holding Rafael. His fingers scratch roughly at the edge of the patch, then rip it off, uncaring for the soreness they leave behind. Rafael is instantly pressing his face to Sonny’s scent gland, and the purr he lets out threatens to render Sonny’s knees forever useless, turn them into jelly with no refund option.

“Anyway you don’t have to worry about any kind of competition,” Sonny continues, making quick work of the second scent patch, returns his hand to where it belongs.

Rafael hums. “Don’t I?”

“I could and would never look at anyone that isn’t you,” Sonny takes a deep breath. He has known this truth for quite some time, but is it the right moment to tell Rafael? By the way Rafael grips back Sonny understands that it’s important he says it as much as possible. Might as well start now, right? “My heart is yours. There can’t be anyone else.”

“You can’t just say that,” Rafael whispers.

“Why not?”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Rafael swallows heavily like he’s fighting tears. “I won’t recover.”

“Then you are in luck, ‘cause I definitely mean every word,” Sonny’s lips trace over Rafael’s hair, begging to be pressed closer – who is Sonny to deny? He leaves a shallow kiss on Rafael’s head, hoping it’s a good enough start in making Rafael believe. “I was hoping it would be you since our first case together. Every booyah, Fordham Law and seldom and right as a broken clock only made it more clear – there’s no one like you, Rafael, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“If it’s true,” Rafael’s scent does some weird summersault of juggling the ink and lavender that makes Sonny dizzy. “You are not allowed to leave. If I trust you with everything-”

“I’ll cherish the opportunity with everything I have. I’ll make sure you never regret it. I’ll take care of you like you are the center of the universe, because you are for me,” Sonny talks, barely remembering to breathe between the sentences. Oxygen is nowhere near as important as reassuring Rafael that all of this is not a cruel joke. “I want you making fun of my education while respecting me working and studying at the same time. Telling me my outfits look horrendous while ogling me like there’s no tomorrow. Helping me with my homework while pretending Fordham is beneath the geniusness of Harvard. I want all of that and so much more, if you’ll have me.”

Rafael leans back, puts his hands on both sides of Sonny’s face, one thumb caressing the skin underneath it with such care it feels surreal. “How can I ever not want you?”

“How can I ever not want you?” Sonny shoots back. He takes one of Rafael’s hands in his own, turns his face slightly as he brings the hand to his mouth, places a kiss right at the edge of Rafael’s palm. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t find you,” he whispers, his lips tracing over Rafael’s skin, sending goosebumps up his arm. “All this time… Just imagining my life without you was enough to drive me crazy.”

“Only thinking of you kept me sane,” Rafael replies with the same level of reverence. His thumb stops moving, and he slowly moves closer and closer until their breaths mingle, their eyes moving from each other down to their lips and back. Rafael leans closer, the intent clear, but as much as Sonny wants this to happen… He can’t. Not yet.

Sonny dodges the kiss by placing his cheek under Rafael’s mouth. Rafael moves away, confused and – Sonny loathes to admit – a bit hurt by the rejection, so Sonny tries to fix the misunderstanding by pressing his own lips to Rafael’s cheek first, then to the tip of his nose and to the bridge between the eyes, finishing with a long kiss on Rafael’s forehead.

“I don’t know how much this fake heat is affecting you, but I want our first kiss to be completely sober,” Sonny explains, gently caressing the hair from Rafael’s face. “And maybe not in the basement of the house you’ve been kidnapped to…” he trails off, finally giving the room a look. “It’s creeping me out by the way.”

“Exactly!” Rafael whines with a small laugh, falling closer until his forehead hits Sonny's shoulder. “What’s with the orange obsession anyway?”

At remembering the color’s meaning Sonny’s entire thought process stutters and halts. Rafael can go without knowing the reason, at least until they’ve put some time between now and then.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Sonny says instead. “Get you checked out by a coupla paramedics, then take you home.”

“Please tell me my apartment is not a crime scene,” Rafael groans, making Sonny chuckle.

“Luckily for you, we realized there was nothing to search for before we could let CSU loose,” Sonny hums. He doesn’t mention that he was ready to bodily block anyone else from entering Rafael’s apartment just to preserve its state.

There was some plan in Sonny’s brain, but now he can’t think of anything – Sonny’s got lost in the green of Rafael’s eyes. He forgets all the words and their meaning, forgets about the outside world. There is only the sight of Rafael’s closed in contentment eyes, the feel of his soft skin on Sonny’s fingertips and his hair between Sonny’s fingers, the sound of Rafael’s sweet purr.

Until exaggeratingly loud footsteps blow through the peacefulness of their moment.

“Fin really must not want to walk in on something he can’t scrub from his brain,” Sonny jokes, reveling in Rafael’s silent laugh. “C’mon. Time to get outta here.”

Rafael nods but doesn’t move otherwise, as if he too can’t handle the thought of letting go.

Well, that’s not a problem – not for an alpha reacting to their omega in heat. In fake heat. Whatever.

Sonny puts one hand on Rafael’s back, moving around until his other hand fits right under Rafael’s knees. Rafael makes a little sound – something between surprise and protest, but his grip tightens, and the moment Sonny scoops him up, Rafael hides his face in Sonny’s neck. Rafael’s purr and the pleased rumble of Sonny’s inner alpha synchronize, tangle with each other in the air, and Sonny has never heard a symphony better.

“Just don’t drop me,” Rafael mumbles, the words smudged by embarrassment.

Sonny kisses his temple. “I’m never letting go.”

“Okay, I don’t see any concerns whatsoever,” the paramedic says, packing up her equipment. “Heart rate, pressure, breathing, all normal. Obviously keep an eye on the fake heat, but other than that… If you don’t have any other complaints?”

The woman has been very caring and careful the entire time, ever since Sonny brought Rafael out of the house under the stunned looks from the neighbors. The ambulance was already there, so Sonny made a beeline to sit Rafael down at the back of it, staying closer than hand’s reach but out of the way enough so the paramedics wouldn’t have to bump him away. Thankfully one of the paramedics turned out to be a beta, meaning both Sonny’s and Rafael’s instincts stay quiet.

Sonny knows Amaro is standing somewhere close by too, the perfect distance to see for himself that Rafael is okay while not alerting Sonny’s inner alpha and keeping an eye on their actual job. Benson is doing the same. The second paramedic is copying them because Sonny might have accidentally growled at him walking by.

Anyway, the first paramedic, despite being a beta, still makes sure to touch Rafael as little as possible. She’s not looking over her shoulder to check her every movement while keeping the boundaries in her mind. Sonny thinks she would’ve decked him hard if he tried to interrupt, which he respects immensely.

“There’s…” Rafael swallows, and Sonny automatically reaches to take his hand, holds it gingerly. “I’m not sure, but there hasn’t been any signs of this… fake heat before Sonny appeared?”

Sonny frowns. That does sound like a concern, and the way the paramedic turns to Rafael isn’t settling any nerves either.

“Well…” she looks between the two of them. “He’s your mate, isn’t he?”

What.

Sonny’s mouth opens and closes, as his brain malfunctions searching for the words. Rafael’s eyes widen.

“N-no? You just looked over my neck, does it look like I have a mating bite hiding there?” he asks, his usual sarcasm flowing out steadily, and Sonny is delighted to hear it once again after everything that’s happened.

“Yeah, you haven’t done the physical mating yet, but-”

“But?” Sonny can’t help interjecting. Rafael throws him a shushing look, making Sonny drop his head.

“One of the reasons for fake heats happening instead of real ones is the feeling of being in danger,” the paramedic explains slowly, making sure to address both of them which Sonny appreciates. “It’s your body realizing how unsafe it is to go through with the real deal, so it shuts the process down as much as possible. How does it know you are not safe? Simple – you are not with your mate,” she shrugs.

“But we are not mated!” Rafael sputters. Sonny knows it’s true, knows Rafael is just stating the obvious, but it still makes his inner alpha howl in pain.

The paramedic lets out another one of those exhausted teacher sighs. Rafael shifts in place like he too is familiar with the sound.

“Okay. There’s this thing that happens sometimes,” the paramedic claps her hands, and that motion makes her look like the next words out of her mouth are going to be when an alpha and an omega love each other very much… “Personally I’ve seen it only once since it’s quite rare, but sometimes inner alphas and omegas realize everything before your human parts can.”

Rafael moves to the side, tugging at the hand Sonny’s still holding to make him sit down too. Sonny complies instantly, rearranging his grip until he can bring Rafael against his chest in a half-hug, the other hand still holding Rafael’s. They must look like a couple preschoolers, listening to a story, but Amaro and Benson stay nearby with intrigued frowns of their own.

“Basically they choose each other by themselves and then wait for the humans to catch up,” the paramedic explains, finally closing her bag. “Some call it true mates, I hear? I don’t know, I think the name’s cute.”

“Would that true mates situation include other… symptoms?” Rafael asks carefully, leading Sonny to turn sharply. What other symptoms?

“Like what?”

“Like… sensing their scent through scent patches?”

“Yeah, that couple said they could,” the paramedic nods after a bit of consideration. 

“Wait-wait, you could sense me all this time?” Sonny asks, watching blush appear on Rafael’s cheeks. The wish to taste it is almost impossible to resist, but Sonny still remembers their audience. As little problem as Sonny has with others seeing it, he thinks that Rafael would feel worse than just embarrassment. “Wait, so that wasn’t the spray airing out, that was…”

“Us being mates, apparently,” Rafael mumbles.

On the one hand, coming to terms with such information is difficult. On the other…

“True mates. That sounds about right,” Sonny sums up, placing the finishing touch with a kiss on Rafael’s temple.