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Harry fainted at work.

It was horribly embarrassing. He knocked a typewriter clean off the omega secretary’s desk, and she was so shocked she called 911 and there was an ambulance and everything. His boss saw him passed out, and Mr. Wilton already thought Harry wasn’t a very strong sort of alpha, and now will always have this image of Harry in his mind—prone, mouth open and drooling, tweed vest ripped open from where the secretary, Tracy, had thought he might breathe better without it tight.

Liam says she has a crush on him—Harry always thought she was just nice.

He supposes Liam was right, but he doubts Tracy’s feeling enamored of him anymore, after everything. He’s waiting on the doctor, wearing a hospital gown and staring at the avocado green walls of the alpha ward. There’s a nurse taking the pulse of the alpha at the far end. He’s mesmerized for a moment by her hat—a lace-and-frills thing like a bit like the hats Harry used to make out of newspaper. How does she get it to stay on her head? Is it something they have to teach at nursing school?

He feels funny. Probably still woozy from his fainting spell.

The doctor strides in a few minutes later.

“Mr. Styles, pleasure,” he says, shaking Harry’s hand. He’s got a firm grip and Harry tries to match it. His dad always said an alpha’s handshake was just as much a mark of his dominance as his scent. “I’m Doctor Lester. Heard you had a fall?”

Tests had been run, Harry still has the bandage from where the nurse had drawn blood. The doctor flips open the chart that’s been hanging on the end of his bed and gives it a glance that looks much too quick to be actually reading anything on it.

“We have had some results,” the doctor says, seating himself next to Harry’s bed.

Harry’s nervous, suddenly. Nothing good comes from a seated doctor. “Results?”

“Nothing’s conclusive at this moment, but I’d like to run just a few more tests, to make sure.”

“I just had a bit of dizziness, or something,” Harry says. “It’s not serious.”

“Your pheromone balance is off, and your thyroid appears weak,” the doctor is saying. Harry listens to him say a bunch more words, the gist of which seems to be that Harry is ill, more ill than he ever realized.

“Have you always been slight?” the doctor asks.

“I’m just the gangly type,” Harry says. “Late presentation. Just need to grow into myself, is all.” Or at least, it’s what his mom always says as she tries to force-feed him a third helping of dinner.

The doctor just hmms and writes something on Harry’s clipboard. They take his blood again and make him sit on a bed in a flimsy nightgown for another hour, and then his doctor comes back, with several other doctors in tow. Harry gulps. That doesn’t seem like a good sign.

“Mr. Styles, have you heard of alpha dysgenesis syndrome? It often causes late presentation, poor muscle acquisition, the classic alpha-beta ambiguity.”

Harry reddens. His presentation was always a bit of a joke in school. “Is it serious?”

“We’ll need to start treatment right away. Early to mid twenties is when symptoms usually worsen—weight loss, low blood sugar, and eventually, sterility and anemia.”
“Sterility?” Harry’s properly frightened now.

“Treatment’s come a long way these past few years. We’ve had great luck manipulating the thyroid with artificial pheromones. There’s every reason to expect you back to normal within the month. Probably even can help you pack on some muscle!” The doctor pats Harry’s arm, which has always been embarrassingly skinny for an alpha’s.

###

Harry goes back to work at the firm, traveling back to the hospital once a week for injections. And loses more weight. And starts to feel tired all the time, no matter how much sleep he gets. And starts falling asleep at his desk. And upsets his landlady by passing out at the dinner table, right into his casserole. And is asked to take medical leave for an indefinite period of time, when it becomes clear he can’t work anymore.

He’s eventually diagnosed with Lerfan’s Disease, a more aggressive form of A-D syndrome. He’s hospitalized in his own room, visited by a half-dozen doctors to be examined as a curiosity, and injected with every type of fake pheromone ever created. His body just isn’t making its own, not in great enough quantities.

He starts to wonder if this is going to be the rest of his life, these green walls, the fake-cheerful nurses, Liam and his mom coming to visit and pretending everything’s fine.

There’s a new doctor again, this one a woman. Female alphas are rare, and still considered by many a sort of mutation, a strange anomaly. They produce alpha pheromones and are physically larger and stronger, but have no knots and aren’t capable of impregnating an omega. Harry wonders if he ought to chance a joke about how both of them are sterile, and decides against it. He doesn’t want to insult her.

She sits down to address him so they’re level, instead of standing over him imposingly, and Harry finds he likes her much better than his last doctor already.

“I’ve been following a study out of South America,” Doctor Price says. “They’ve had success treating A-D syndrome by increasing physical contact between bondmates to twelve, eighteen hours a day. There’s a theory the imbalance itself is caused by our prudish Victorian morals, not enough time for bondmates to spend together during the day with our modern separation of sex role duties, the breadwinner alpha and the housebound omega. In many primitive societies, omegas follow their alphas almost everywhere, and heats are said to be more frequent…” she’s going on about studies, but Harry gets stuck on the first part.

“Physical contact…” Harry wonders if she means contact or well, you know, contact.

“Cuddling, spooning, that sort of thing,” she says, with a sly smile like she knows what he was thinking. “Anything that allows the body exposure to the pheromones that signal closeness and safety of the bondmate. With a reassurance of the mate’s nearness, the body should relax and start to heal the balance itself.”

“I haven’t got a mate,” Harry says. He’s never even courted an omega. He didn’t present until nearly 18, and then there was university, and he’d been too busy studying to take weekend buses over to the omega college like his classmates did, for the a/o dances. And truth be told, he’s always felt intimidated by omegas. So beautiful and untouchable and desired. He’d never liked his chances as competition with all the other, fitter alphas.

“Hospital does make meeting people rather difficult,” the doctor says. “What if we found you an omega who could stand in for your mate? It is just hormones, after all. Even if you’re not bonded, the principles should apply.”

And that’s how Harry finds himself awaiting the arrival of an omega stranger who’s going to cuddle with him for the next twelve hours.
It’s gotta be better than the injections, he thinks.

###

Louis' father threatens to disown him about twice a year. Last time it was because he found out Louis had let a mate of Niall's take racy photos of him--how else was he supposed to pay back the money he lost at cards? He's better than asking his daddy for a loan. God knows how Pater found out, Louis had half a mind to accuse him of being the type to buy brown-paper wrapped mags down on 14th Street. The photos were perfectly tame, too, just Louis caught in the act of taking off his kneesocks, Louis' legs bare from the knee down, sitting on a stool with his feet propped up on the counter, Louis in a bathing costume with one of the straps slipped off, grinning coyly over his shoulder, backside angled for best display--

Okay, a bit racy, but they were skin mags. What did Pater expect?

Or the time Louis had led the secret invitation-only omega society at his boarding school on a midnight raid of the alpha house so they were caught hanging the alphas' jockstraps up outside every classroom--just a bit of boyish mischief, hardly worth getting into a fuss over, and Pater could afford to pay the school not to expel him.

Or at the omega college when Louis broke curfew so often they threatened to put a lock on his window--it was their fault, really, for having a 9 pm curfew--Louis is an omega, not a child, for fuck's sake, what was this, the 19th century? Pater didn't appreciate the thought Louis put into his argument when he lobbied the college to change their policy. If their sister university hadn't been so afraid of losing Pater's endowment they'd have expelled Louis. Not that Louis would care if they did, it was just a glorified charm school for omegas to bide their time until they found a mate. Louis had found plenty of omegas to accompany him around town, but finding a mate--that was a bit much to expect of him, when you looked at what alpha society had to offer.

Disowning him was just a threat--like the college's curfew, or Mother's crying--you were just meant to be very sorry, and hang your head, and think about what you'd done. Louis was an expert at all of those.

So he didn't expect that this time Pater actually meant it.

Mother had been trying to set him up with alphas from various families for years, ever since he hit sixteen. He never pays it much mind--sometimes they're fun to flirt with, every once in a while he slips them a little tongue and lets them cop a feel over his breeches--he's a modern omega, after all, he supports free love--but it isn't his fault that some of them actually believe his mother and think he's ready to settle down.

He certainly didn't think this one was for real. Edward Laurington--the name is bad enough. Louis had nicely asked him if anyone had ever called him Eddie or Ned and he'd stared at Louis like he'd suggested Edward take up juggling. He had refused Louis' offer to sneak off into the kitchens during the party and snag a bottle of champagne and have a smoke in the garden, he'd had no sense of humor and he'd hardly even glanced at Louis' ass. Not that Louis liked it when alphas treated him like a piece of meat, but to not even want to look? To not even struggle with the urge a little in an effort to be polite?

The worst one of the whole lot, in Louis' opinion, so of course he was the one Mother had gotten her heart set on.

And Louis had laughed at the idea, and thought surely everyone must be joking, and then Edward had shown up with a diamond-encrusted collar and asked Pater's permission to court him with "intentions to bond", and Louis had laughed in his face.

And perhaps he hadn't been quite so ready to be sorry and hang his head and think about what he'd done. He might have done quite the opposite, and yelled at Pater in front of a dinner party, and ruined a soufflé by knocking it off the counter.

But still, he didn't expect to be turned away at the bank. For Pater to refuse to even take his calls. Or let him into the house.

"Your father just needs some time to cool off," Mother says. She's only opened the door a crack, like she thinks Louis might try and bolt in. "You'll be fine staying in the flat downtown."

"How am I supposed to afford food?" Louis asks. "He even told Morley's not to let me eat on the tab anymore!"

"Maybe you should get a job, if you're so keen on being a modern independent omega," Mother says. "Really, Louis, you can't behave like a child forever. You do have to pick a mate eventually, and you're not getting any younger."

"I'm only twenty-four!" Louis says.

"I was bonded at nineteen," Mother says.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Fine. But I'm not changing my mind about Laurington. He's dreadful boring."

"His family is so well connected, Lou, and he's been every so nice to us. I really think you shouldn't write him off just from one evening. Bonding isn't all pheromones, sometimes it takes a while to form a connection."

"I'm going to the flat. You can tell Pater where to find me when he's ready to apologize." Louis takes the suitcase of his things she hands him and marches away defiantly.

###

It's been a week, the flat is covered with food containers and chip papers, Louis' on his last clean outfit, and Pater still isn't budging.

"You could get a job," Niall says. He picks his way across the floor in a way that's overly careful and annoying.

"I tried," Louis says, dramatically draping a hand over his eyes. "No one will hire me. I'm too beautiful."

He'd gone to several shops and cafes, even applied to be a secretary at a law firm, but the girl at the front desk had asked him for typing experience, and he'd smiled sunnily and said his fingers could be put to better use, and he'd not heard back.

"I can't keep fronting you cash," Niall says.

Louis gasps and clutches his heart. "Niall, you wouldn't cut me off too?"

Niall's family isn't quite as loaded as Louis', but he certainly isn't hurting for cash, Louis knows.

"What about your friend who takes the pictures? I could do that again?"

Niall sighs. "I'll ask, but I think he's gone to the continent for a few months. Lou, you've got to be nicer if you want someone to hire you. Not everyone is enamored by your feisty charm."

"I will be nicer tomorrow," Louis says.

Niall rolls his eyes. "I'll buy you dinner tonight and then you're on your own, alright?"

Louis doesn't really believe that Niall would leave him to get skinny. Niall appreciates Louis' ass as much as any beta could. But he does go out on the hunt the next morning, determined.

He gets a tall alpha to buy him a tea at a cafe with a bit of flirting, but the beta behind the counter seems less impressed, and tells Louis they're not hiring. He sips his tea, feeling defeated and wishing he'd tried to get the alpha to buy him a sausage roll as well, when he spots a notice board at the back of the cafe.

Things would work themselves out, Louis'd always known. He tears the entire flier down and leaves with his head held high.

###

Louis walks into the medical office and slaps the newspaper clipping down in front of the secretary.

"I'm here to be your guinea pig."

The secretary looks at him, unimpressed. He probably ought to have gone home and showered first, changed out of last night's trousers.

"Which doctor would you like to make an appointment with?" she asks him, eyeing his shirt with a frown. It's a bit outrageous, which is why Louis bought it. The colorful print and short sleeves are not the sort of Appropriate omega garments his mother would buy for him. She's the kind of old-fashioned who still thinks male omegas should wear knee-length breeches and stockings and never meet an alpha's eyes in public.

"It says you want omegas to participate in a study. Here I am," Louis says.

"I'll let Doctor Price know you're here," she says.

Louis has a seat in the waiting area across from a beta mother and her daughter. He crosses his legs wide, the way an alpha would, and grins at the daughter as her mother tries to pull her closer.

They call him in after a few minutes. There's two doctors present, one a beta and one an alpha, standard protocol in these situations--no alpha can be alone with an omega who's not their mate, not if propriety is to be maintained. But the alpha doctor is a woman--that's interesting.

Louis is sort of curious about this female alpha--he tries to scent her subtly, see if she smells much different from a male alpha. She's not very fragrant, though.
She gives him a look and he feels a little guilty. No one wants to be gawked at.

"I'm Doctor Price," she says. "You were interested in the study?"

"I'm your boy," Louis says, because there's nothing like a bit of cheekiness to ward off nerves.

The beta man looks unimpressed. Dr. Price is regarding him with interest, though.

Dr. Price pauses. "The study is... it requires close physical contact with an alpha. For prolonged periods of time."

"How close?"

"Nothing at all scandalous or improper. All contact would be supervised, and if you feel the slightest discomfort or distrust of the alpha you would have complete freedom to end your session."

"So my virtue remains intact," Louis says.

"This is all for science, Mon. Tomlinson. You can be sure I run a very tight ship, I will have no nonsense from you or my patients involved."

Monsieur Tomlinson. Louis hates that unbonded omegas have a different title from bonded ones. Exactly the sort of pretension his father would fight to uphold. Alphas don't have their bond status constantly revealed in front of their names.

"Sounds fair enough. Now, what is the compensation scheme?"

It's pitifully low, but Louis will take it. Other than becoming an actual prostitute, he's not sure he's got much else in the way of employable skills.

He's not supposed to shower within four hours of his session, and he's recommended to bring games or a book or other entertainment, and advised that his partner may be sleeping for much of it but that's its important to maintain physical contact through the session.

###

Harry had never quite bought into the whole "bonded at first scent" idea of films and novels, he'd always thought they exaggerated. But he can admit maybe most of that was his own inexperience. Because in actual fact, lying next to an omega, wrapped up in his scent like this—

It's not what he expected.

Louis isn't what he expected. Harry supposes he'd been a little judgmental in his mind, thinking that any omega willing to do this would be--well, the kind who couldn't get a bondmate from looks or personality alone. But there's no way Louis wants for suitors. He's perfect, from the blue of his eyes down to the curve of his calves. And his smell--

Harry has never smelled anything sweeter. Like a summer field after rain, nectar and freshness and wild, warm beauty.

Louis' clothes are the expensive kind. He'd looked a bit like an omega prince out of a fairy tale when he'd walked in. He's way out of Harry's league. But Louis doesn't seem to look down on Harry, he isn't treating him the way Harry would expect someone rich to treat him. To be disdainful of him or worse, careful and pitying.

Harry inhales another deep breath of Louis' neck, telling himself he's only following protocol for the therapy. Louis' scent is the kind that gets better and more intriguing with every breath. Harry's nose is just shy of tickling Louis' hair, Louis' open collar is right near his mouth, something almost painfully erotic about it. Harry can see the slight bulge under Louis' skin where his gland would be, where Harry would bite him to mate--

Fuck, he isn't going to think about that. He's an invalid, not a complete naif.

Louis is uncomfortable, squirmy, and without thinking Harry sets a hand on his hip.

He's surprised by his own action, because he's never done anything like that before, never tried to impose a will on an omega like that--

and immediately horrified, that he did it to one he just met, who's helping him, who doesn't want his mincing attempts at alpha behavior.
"Shit, sorry--"

Louis says it's alright but Harry still feels guilty. Off-kilter. Louis makes him off-kilter.

He wonders if this arrangement is really going to work out, if they're so obviously mismatched like this.

Harry falls aslep in spite of himself, wakes up feeling better than he has in months.

###

The second session is a week after the first, and Harry spends a lot of time daydreaming about Louis.

He can't help it--it's not like there anything even remotely interesting happening in the hospital. The nurses listen to the radio but he's never been much for soaps. He calls his mom and she tells him about the television she saw in the shops on High Street--she might ask Dad if they can get one instead of another car. Harry can't imagine television would be more interesting than having a Louis come to visit you.

When Louis shows up, he's wearing long trousers, the alpha kind, cinched by a belt and cuffed many times at the ankle. Wearing them he looks just... cool, in a way Harry could never hope to be. He looks like one of the revolutionary youths they print photos of in the paper, protesting for omega rights outside the universities.

Louis catches Harry looking and fiddles with his trousers a bit self-consciously. "Damn alpha trousers, have to buy them two sizes too big to get the hips to fit," Louis mutters.

"You look great," Harry says, and then blushes. What a dippy thing to say.

Louis seems pleased though. "Can't be looking all traditional today, we're going rogue.”

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

Louis starts to fiddle with Harry's IV without asking him if he minds. Harry doesn't mind. He wants all of Louis attention and touch.

"Will you die if we pull this out?" Louis asks.

"No," Harry says. "It's just for fluids, because my meds make me dehydrated—"

"We'll just feed you lots of water, then," Louis says. "Let's go.”

"Go where?" Harry asks. He's already pulling out his needle though.

"It's a surprise," Louis says, eyes twinkling.

Harry hopes Louis can't smell the anxiety on him. It's just that he hasn't been out of the hospital in—

it's been months.

"Okay," Harry says.

Louis smiles wide. “Excellent."

Harry's already dressed for the session, but he gets his things together while Louis peers out of the door, checking the coast is clear. Harry's just pocketing his wallet when Louis grabs his hand and starts running.

It's exhilarating, dashing through the corridors and slowing when they see nurses, trying to look normal. Louis almost trips over a table and starts giggling, and then Harry starts too, and they can't stop laughing as they exit out of a side door.

Harry bends over to catch his breath--he hasn't done much more exercise than walk around the sterile green hallways in months. He feels good, though, better than he's felt in a while, with Louis' scent bright and energetic, the sun on his shoulders. He's missed the sun. The air is steamy with summer.

"Where are we going?" he asks Louis.

Louis huffs dramatically. "I can't tell you, it's against the rules."

"Oh there are rules now?" Harry asks.

Louis grins mischievously. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I live to serve," Harry says. It's a joke but not a joke. He'd do anything Louis wants. It's been like that since the moment he smelled him.

"Then let's find you something to do for me," Louis says, and takes his hand. He's pulling Harry down into the subway, and Harry lets him.

They get off near the park, and emerge into the sunlight to the sound of drumming and the thick smell of mary jane.

Louis is looking around just as amazed as Harry, taking in the hippies sitting all along the sidewalk, in various states of undress, hair long and unkept.
"Louis," Harry yells at him over the drums. "Did you bring me to a Love-in?"

"C'mon, let's get a good seat on the hill!" Louis pulls him across the street, and Harry laughs, because he doesn't think there's any one thing you get a seat for, but he doesn't want to ruin Louis' enthusiasm.

They cross over to the park, where there are circles of people everywhere, and climb up the hill, picking their way through lounging couples, some of whom are doing their darndest to make things indecent. The air smells like pheromones, the various wets and hardnesses making Harry dizzy. Louis finds a patch of grass that's free and pulls Harry down to sit.

"This is great, isn't it?"

Everywhere couples are lounging on the grass, or sitting on top of each other, and there are circles of people all intertwined and half-clothed, smoking and singing. Harry tries hard not to stare at an alpha girl who's just casually shirtless, smoking a joint with her omega girlfriend's head in her lap.

Someone with a megaphone starts speaking, and it's hard to hear over the people and the messiness of the sound, but Harry can hear the gist--omega rights and beta rights and the rights of everyone to choose their own life, their own bondmate. Louis cheers with the crowd every time there's a pause that sounds like it's meant for agreement. Harry is content to lay down and feel the grass at his back, the sunlight on his face. He didn't realize it'd been so long since he'd been outside, properly outside--not just to walk from the hospital doors to his parents' car and then into their house. He drifts off for a bit, and then wakes when something falls into his face.

He picks it up and sees Louis grinning at him. It's a flower crown, made of what looks like marigolds and daisies. Louis is wearing one too. Harry sits up and puts it on. Louis arranges it in his curls for him.

"Beautiful," Louis says, his face soft and a bit awed, and Harry feels a well of want spring up in him, not sexual but the desire to just touch Louis, to stare at him unguarded, be the one he looks at with his face all soft.

Harry feels slightly dizzy from sitting up so fast, and Louis picks up on it. "Are you okay? Do you need to go back?"

"Just feel a bit..." Harry bites his lip, and feels guilty when the thought pops into his head, but he can't resist. "Think it would help if we... you know."

Louis understands immediately, thankfully, and Harry feels bad and manipulative but then Louis is scooching up to fit under his arm, and Harry buries his nose in Louis' neck, nosing up the back of his head, and they lay back in the sun and Louis smells so bright and full of possibility, like summer itself, and it's so good Harry can't find it in himself to feel bad about lying.

"Are you feeling better?" Louis asks him late afternoon, as the main crowds start to leave. Harry nods and they go find a public bathroom, Harry having to stand outside and guard it for Louis because the park doesn't have any omega facilities.

"Do we need to get back soon? Are you missing your meds?" Louis asks.

"I can wait until night," Harry says. It's not really true, but he doesn't care. He'll do anything to stay out here, where the alive people are, walking down the street with Louis pressed against his side.

"Good, because I wanted to walk back through downtown," Louis says.

Downtown is the kind of place Harry was never allowed to go as a kid. There are piles of trash on the corners, people shouting arguments from the open windows of tenements. Most of the ground-floor spaces are shuttered, until they get to 17th and Vine.

It's the same old buildings as the rest of the area, but repainted in wild rainbows of color. There are businesses open, head shops and funkadelic record stores, a vegan cafe and a bookstore that looks to sell only omega and "x-alpha" authors.

Harry feels very unhip. "What's an x-alpha?" he asks Louis.

"I think it's like... an alpha who refuses to be traditional? Or maybe it's an alpha who doesn't want to bond with an omega, wants to go with a beta or another alpha instead."

"Oh," Harry says. He didn't know you could do that.

"I love this area," Louis says, looking up at the stories above the bookstore. "I bet it's cheap to live here, too."

"For a reason," Harry says, grimacing as a man pisses against the wall across the street.

"I used to sneak down here sometimes from my father's factory--it's just over on 14th street. There's a good bakery down this block. And a coffeehouse that'll sell you grass."

"You were quite the rebel," Harry says.

Louis watches an alpha-beta couple walk past them. They're dressed hipper than Harry and Louis, not like the hippies from the love-in but like the university students Harry used to see on his lunch break sometimes, tweed vests worn looser, trousers more tight-fitting and short at the ankle, something academic yet suave about them. They look like they belong downtown, like you could follow them to a party of communists.

"God I wish they made that kind of thing in my size," Louis says. He turns back to Harry. "You know, you'd be more impressed with my wayward childhood if you knew my last name."

"Would I recognize it?" Harry asks.

"You're wearing it," Louis says, opening Harry's coat.

Harry stares at the silk tag on his nicest coat, bought by his mom last year for Christmas. "You're a Tomlinson? Of Tomlinson Suiting?"

"That's my father," Louis says, with just a hint of bitterness. "He's disowned me, but I suspect he'll come back around in a few weeks."

"For what?" Harry asked. "Are you... do you need..."

"I'll be fine, he's never serious. Just trying to teach me a lesson about my prospects. Got to find a mate, that's my job, my only job as his omega son. A rich alpha from a rich family who he'll feel comfortable giving his company to someday."

"Do you like the fashion business?" Harry asks.

"What does it matter? I'm only an omega, I'm never going to be in charge of anything."

"I think if you ever decided you wanted to take charge, the world wouldn't know what hit it," Harry says, and not just to make Louis feel better. It's true. He might not know Louis very well, but he's seen Louis when he gets his mind made up.

"I always thought alphas were meant to comfort omegas by telling us they'll take care of everything, not to worry our pretty little heads," Louis says.
Harry flushes. Here he goes again, always doing the wrong thing.

But Louis snuggles in closer. "That's why I like you. You let me lead you places."

"I'd follow you anywhere," Harry says.

He's torn a new one by the nurse who's there when he returns to the hospital, after dark, but Harry feels better than he has in ages. He lets his mind wander while she's telling him off with dire warnings of collapsing and relapsing, and lets himself remember Louis' smell, the warmth of sunlight.

###

Louis leaves Niall's the next day on a mission. He tips the doorman at the Harrod's Omega Lunchroom to let him cut right to the back table behind the ferns, where he knows Mother will be.

"Louis," she hisses, embarrassed, when he sits down across from her and Aunt Sheila.

"I'll only take a moment of your time, Mom. I need a loan.”

"Louis, we've discussed this. I am not enabling you and your father's continued ridiculous fight.”

The waiter interrupts to fill Louis' glass with iced tea. Louis shakes his napkin out and orders a chicken salad.

"This isn't about Father, and it isn't to use the money for living expenses or anything. It's a business investment.”

"Louis, sweetheart," Aunt Sheila interrupts. "Don't you think this has all gone on a little long?”

"I'll also need your cooperation with the omega tailoring department in the factory," Louis says. "I know Mrs. Reynard will listen to you.”

He lays out his plan, and Mother relents in the end, because Louis didn't spend all those years under her tutelage learning nothing.

###

He delivers his designs to Mrs. Reynard that night, heart in his throat. He's gone over his designs until he knows them by heart, but he's nervous. Is he crazy? Does he have any surety that anyone else wants to dress the same as him? But he's committed now.

The next morning he puts in an offer on a storefront in 17th and Vine, and calls Niall from the payphone to talk about paint colors.

###

Harry's been counting down the days until Louis is let back in to see him. He tried to take as much of the blame for his outing as he could, but he knows the hospital saw Louis leaving with him. It's Dr. Price who finally relents after his badgering, and says his progress with the therapy was good enough that she wants to continue, if he can promise to be on his best patient behavior.

"And I think it's fine if you want to go on outings during the day for a few hours, provided you are with someone who knows what to do in the event of an emergency and you return for your evening meds on time," Dr. Price says.

"Really?" Harry feels like he could cry.

Dr. Price looks a bit sorry. "It was never my intention to imprison you here, or make you feel like an invalid. I should have paid more attention to your progress--you haven't had a fainting episode in months, the new hormone injections seem to be keeping most of your symptoms at bay."

"I can go out with Louis? I mean, he knows about me and what to do and everything," Harry says.

"You aren't meant to be getting so personally involved with each other," Dr. Price says, and Harry's face falls. "However, I suppose as long as you both follow the guidelines for your interactions, there's no harm in your therapy taking place out in public rather than in here."

Harry grins so wide the nurses call him "Dimples" the rest of the day.

Harry changes outfits four times in anticipation of Louis' arrival, and the nurse threatens to call off the whole thing if he can't get his heartbeat in check.

When Louis walks in, he's wearing a tweed suit--but one that makes Harry's breath catch. It's perfectly fitted to him, vest nipped in at the waist and trousers cut slim to hug his thighs. The trousers are short enough to show off his ankles, and he's wearing oxfords with bright socks. He puts the suit jacket on and spins around.

"Fantastic, isn't it?" he says.

Harry is inclined to agree after getting a glimpse of his backside.

"I just got the first load in today, and Mrs. Reynard had these tailored up for me all ready to go. C'mon, I want to show you the shop." He grabs Harry's hand and pulls him out into the hallway.

"The shop?" Harry asks, following Louis happily.

###

They come up out of the subway and head straight for 17th and Vine, Louis chattering happily about things Harry has no understanding of, patterns and waist measurements and stitching.

They stop in front of one of the spaces Harry remembers being boarded up before--now it's painted bright yellow to fit in with the rest of the street, and there's a sign overhead declaring it "Tommo's--Suiting for the Unkept Omega."

Louis unlocks the door and leads Harry inside. "Niall isn't sure about the sign but I think it's funny. Unkept like... not a housebound omega, you know? But also a play on words, you know, the omega who doesn't want to dress so uptight."

"I love a pun," Harry says.

Louis leads him inside, where there's racks of various sample sizes, and a pedestal surrounded by mirrors for tailoring measurements and fittings.

"I've always hated that you can't get the cool alpha styles in omega sizes, and it came to me--I could just have the omega department at the factory produce a few of my designs in samples--it's just a drop in the ocean of the Tomlinson brand, Father probably wouldn't even notice--and the seamstresses loved the idea of doing proper trousers instead of sewing breeches all day." Louis is going a mile a minute, and Harry happily listens as he thumbs through the samples. There's tons of funky tweed patterns that Harry would love to wear, as well as a few more conservative wools in stripes and solids.

"I thought, this isn't just for casual day-wear, we ought to have some options for omegas who want business-wear as well, right? I know most conservative places require skirts or breeches, but things are changing."

"Louis, this is amazing," Harry says.

Louis beams. "Haven't made any sales yet, but it's only day two, so."

"Your mother's going to be so proud."

Louis' smile drops a little at that. "We'll see." He grabs Harry and nuzzles into him. "Sorry, forgot we're meant to be in a session."

"S'okay," Harry says. He breathes in Louis' excitement and feels it filling him up.

Louis pulls one of the trousers down and shows Harry the inside seam--where there's a little red-blue-and yellow embroidery of the word LOVE, reminiscent of the signs at the love-in.

"I thought--why not sew a little bit of the revolution into the seams?" Louis says. "Mrs. Reynard didn't really get it, but she had the seamstresses do it anyway. It's like how my father puts the Tomlinson labels in his coats--but this is my label. The Tommo label."

Harry opens one of the vests to find a little embroidered rainbow inside the back, right above the label. "I love it," Harry says. "And you're right to insist--it's about branding, right? All the details matter."

"Exactly," Louis says, pleased.

Louis sits on Harry's lap while he does accounting paperwork, and Harry passes an hour happily buried in the back of Louis' neck. An omega wanders in around noon and Louis jumps up, a little overeager, and shows her around. She says she loves the concept and will definitely return when she needs a new suit.

Louis deflates a little after she leaves. "People keep saying they like it but not buying anything. I haven't even had a chance to use my measuring tape."

"It's only day two, right? Give people some time to spread the word, see the place from the street. Have you taken out any advertisements?" Harry asks.

"I bought a half-page in Omega Occasions, but that doesn't come out until next month," Louis says. "And I bought a space in the omega job classifieds for next week."

This, at least, is something Harry knows about, working at the firm. "Targeted ads like that are great, but you also have to cast your net to places that don't seem obvious. Remember that your target market has other interests beyond just their presentation."

"I know that," Louis says.

"Like, what's the non-obvious publications that omegas like you--young, stylish, into the counterculture--would be reading?"

Louis frowns for a moment, then perks up. "I could do the music section of the weekly paper. We always used to look in there when I was at the omega college, to see what venues looked like they would serve us without dates."

"That's a great idea. I'll make a list of some others I think you should look into," Harry says.

A few minutes later, a beta walks in and Louis jumps off of Harry to hug him.

"Niall, meet Harry," Louis says.

Niall sizes Harry up and shakes his hand. He seems pleased enough to meet Harry but then pulls Louis outside 'just for a mo, got a question for him,' and Harry's left to watch their conversation through the window.

He hears bits and pieces even though he's trying not to listen, like since when and alpha and courting. His ears feel warm, but when Louis comes back in he's smiling.
"Glad you came by, Nialler, wanted to show you the shop," Louis says.

He gives Niall the full tour while Harry looks over his accounts--Louis is surprisingly thorough with his records, if a little more optimistic than would really be prudent for a new business.

"Wouldn't radical omegas rather just wear jeans like the rest of the hippies?" Niall asks, after Louis explains the concept.

"Not all of us can be layabout free-love types. Some of us have to work, and participate in alpha society. We still deserve to look modern and stylish," Louis says.
Niall shakes his head. "The revolution will be monetized, huh."

"The revolution will be accomplished by those within the system as much as those without," Louis says. Niall rolls his eyes but looks fond.
Niall stays to chat for an hour and then says he has to be leaving, but he'll see Louis later.

"That's your roommate?" Harry asks. He likes to imagine Louis in a fabulous bachelor apartment, though he supposes it makes sense Louis lives with someone.
"Only for the time being, until I can pay Mother back for the loans."

"I like him," Harry says.

"Good," Louis says. "Because I'm keeping him."

They lock up at 5 pm and Louis walks Harry back to the hospital.

"Who's going to walk you back home?" Harry asks.

"I'm an independent omega," Louis says. "Got the trousers and everything."

###

Louis starts coming twice a week, and then every other day. Some days they stay in the hospital, Louis too tired to go out, and Harry is happy to have him nap snuggled up close. Some days they go out, back to the shop if Louis has work to do--he's hired a nice omega boy to run the place while he's gone, Timothy, who Harry had a long conversation with about photography and always smells faintly of grass.

They hang out at the nurses' station and listen to the afternoon soaps on the radio, Louis getting very involved in the storyline with the omega mistress who starts having an affair of her own with her alpha's brother--he debates loudly with Nurse Brown about whether the character ought to tell her alpha who the real father of her baby is. Harry gets to stand by with all this happening and cuddle Louis from behind and bury his face in Louis' neck, and it's lovely, especially on a rainy day when Louis' feeling chilly and Harry gets to warm him by wrapping both of them in his cardigan.

It's only five days after opening that Louis' shop makes its first sale--the energy that radiates off him in their session that day makes Harry feel alive in a way he hasn't felt before the sickness. The omega girl from the second day had come back and bought a three-piece tweed, and Louis tells the story to anyone who will listen about how she was unsure what she wanted and Louis managed to sell her on the higher end wool, for ultimate winter warmth.

"And she came back with her friend a week later and told me the jacket is the best-fitting one she's ever owned, because the omega ones were always tight in the shoulder, because they don't think omegas need to use their arms much," Louis tells Harry, for the fourth time. "And her friend bought a pair of pleated trousers and said she'd be back when she needed a new suit."

"That's great," Harry says. He doesn't mind listening to the same story. He loves Louis' voice, it makes him feel centered and calm. He knows that ought to be his role as an alpha--be the more talkative one, the one who calms and centers. But with Louis it feels like a give and take, an equal sort of push-pull. He puts his hand on Louis' side when Louis gets too antsy, and Louis talks in his soothing voice when Harry is feeling anxious or unsettled.

Louis befriends Dr. Price and gets her talking about her research-- she's got some fascinating theories about the viability of omega sperm, and the implications if true--if sperm can be activated or deactivated by certain hormones and presentations, could eggs? If male omegas have the fetal capability to produce sperm as well as eggs, do female alphas have the capability to father children?

"That is interesting," Harry says. "I remember reading a journal article about a similar subject in my biology lecture, though I don't think it went as far as to confirm anything."

"I never took biology. Maybe I should've done, if it was going to be this interesting. But nobody takes bio at omega college unless you want to be a nurse," Louis says.
"What did you major in?" Harry asks.

"Drama," Louis says.

"I can see that. You're very dramatic."

"Haven't been in anything since school. But I brought down the house as Puck."

"I can imagine," Harry says. He smiles. "You'd make a great Peter Pan."

"I should start going to acting class again. I miss it."

"You should. If it's something you want to do."

"Not like I'm the kind of omega who cares if people think I'm a little fast. And I don't have an alpha to care either."

"I never understood how alphas could restrict their omegas like that. If I had an omega--I'd want them to be happy. To have their own life."

"Course you would. You're one of the good ones."

Harry smiles but it's short-lived. "I hate that there's bad ones."

"Suppose if this therapy works you'll get a little bit bad yourself," Louis says, meaning it to sound joking.

Harry responds with seriousness. "I don't believe that. That behavior can be tied to strength of pheromones, that dominance patterns are purely hormonal. Everybody has a choice in how they act, no matter what their biology is. We aren't animals."

Louis looks at him with his soft face, the one Harry loves most. "No, I don't think so either."

Harry loves him. He's sure now--has loved Louis probably since the love-in, but knew it was too fast to admit even to himself. But there's no doubt now. He thinks they're courting--but it's never been confirmed, exactly. Sure, Louis lets Harry scent him casually, but they're meant to be doing that for the therapy. Does Louis think that's all this is, just friends who pretend at being mates for Harry's hormones' sake? Harry's too scared to ask. He's never been in love, never wanted so badly to just touch someone all the time. He knows he wants to respect Louis' independence, but he also would be crushed if Louis didn't want more. So he doesn't bring it up, just keeps nosing into Louis' hair every chance he gets, resting his hands on Louis' waist. He tells himself it's enough.

###

Louis takes Harry to the shop again, and while there's a bit more foot traffic, Harry can see Louis is disappointed by the lack of sales. He knows it takes new businesses some time.

"Have you thought about doing picture ads?" Harry asks.

"They're expensive, I know that from listening to Pater groan about it." Louis bites his lip. "I'd like to, though. Have to hire a photographer and models and everything..."

"I take photographs," Harry says. "Or I used to, anyway."

"What?" Louis perks up.

"I have this great camera. It's being held hostage by my old landlady, though," Harry says. "I signed a year-long lease when I moved in, and then I got sick, and she wouldn't let me get out of it. I couldn't pay it, and I couldn't make it out of the hospital to pick up my things, and she wouldn't send them to me--said I could have them back when I paid her the back rent. Which is now more than I could possibly afford."

"That's outrageous! She doesn't care that you're literally hospitalized?"

"A lease is a lease, I guess."

Louis is starting to get a bit antsy with righteous anger, and Harry presses his hand on Louis' waist, just lightly, to calm him.

"Can't believe you're not more upset," Louis mutters, though he lets Harry pull him closer.

"It's been a while now. I guess at some point I'll have to go over there and try and bargain with her--pay partial in exchange for my stuff."

The bell tinkles, and an omega boy walks in. He's not as cute as Louis, of course, but he's quite good-looking, in long trousers and a fitted shirt. Louis jumps up and gives him the sales pitch, letting him feel the samples and complimenting him on his obviously impeccable taste. It's so fun to watch Louis charm a customer--make them feel attractive and cool, and like they're exactly the sort of person who would shop here.

"I do need a new suit for my brother's bonding ceremony..." the boy says, hesitantly. "His university friends are all cooler than me, and they know it."

"I doubt that," Louis says. "But I know just the suit for that."

He makes the sale, and gets the boy's measurements right away, and arranges for him to pick it up in a fortnight.

Louis waits until the boy leaves and then jumps into Harry's lap, making the chair spin around.

"Another sale!" he yells, and Harry yells with him.

"You were brilliant," Harry says.

"Course I was, I'm a master salesman. Could sell a drowning man water," Louis preens.

They're both being so silly they don't notice the next person who walks in, though Louis stops spinning the chair once he does.

"Mother," he says, surprised. He jumps off Harry's lap.

Louis' mom is a traditional-looking omega woman, skirt below the knee and pillbox hat pinned to a perfect bouffant. Harry stands, belatedly, and goes over to kiss her hand.

"Mrs. Tomlinson," he says, trying to remember his manners. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry Styles."

She doesn't answer, just takes her hand back and strolls through the racks. "This is how you display your samples? On racks like a warehouse?" she says to Louis.
"It's part of the aesthetic," Louis says. "We're like an anti-department store."

"That's what the youth want, is it? The whole world a communist bunker," she mutters. "So is it working, your little enterprise?"

"I've sold two suits already," Louis says.

"And it only took a week," she says icily. "At this rate, you'll have sold five whole suits by first quarter."

"All new businesses take time to establish themselves," Louis says.

His mother turns to Harry. "And this is your newest flirtation, I suppose? A bit more beta than you usually go, but I suppose variety is the spice of life."
Louis' angry now. He crosses his arms and pulls his mother outside, and Harry tries to pretend like he can't hear them through the door.

###

Louis can't believe mother shows up now, just to ruin his day. How like her.

She takes in the streetscape around them like it personally offends her. "God knows you enjoy riling me and your father--"

"I do not enjoy it," Louis says. "Anyway I wasn't going to tell you yet--but aren't you happy? You wanted me to find an alpha."

"Not just any old alpha off the street. Who's his family? What's his job? He's certainly too scrawny to be working anywhere requiring any physical activity--"

"He's between jobs at the moment," Louis says. It's not not true. He doesn't want her to know about Harry being sick--it feels too personal.

"Of course. Leave it to you to find some hippie layabout and roll around in his scent like a--"

"Like what, a streetwalker? You can't stand that I'm courting someone I actually like. Anyone who isn't hand-picked by you is just not up to your standards--"

"I do have standards, which is well enough since you have none! That's evident from this place--this neighborhood, Louis, god, do you care at all about your father's reputation? The future of the company?"

"I do care about the future of this company! I care enough to know that you're become a brand for the elderly and the frumpy! I'm selling to young people, the ones who are leading the new wave of fashion."

"The ones with no money who lie around the park all day singing campfire songs? Please," she says. "You can't build a brand on the whims of teenagers and hippie students."

"Are you going to tell Pater?" Louis asks, his voice cold.

"You clear this all up, and I won't have to. We can chalk this up to just... youthful indiscretions. Break the lease, clean this mess up, and I'll let you walk away." She walks to the door and then turns back. "And get rid of that alpha, too."

###

Louis comes back in and stands there, back to Harry, for a long moment. Then he turns and grabs his jacket from the chair and flips the shop sign to CLOSED.

"Come on," he says to Harry, and Harry follows him out, unsure of what to do. Is Louis angry at him? Should he do something to calm Louis down, or would he view that as manipulative?

"Louis..."

"Do you want to go back?" Louis asks, harshly. He turns to face Harry on the sidewalk, arms folded.

"I never want to go back without you," Harry says.

"Where's your old boarding house?" Louis asks.

"What?"

"The one that's got your stuff, that your mom won't pick up. Let's get it," Louis says.

"It's over on Long and Wilmont," Harry says. "But Louis, the landlady isn't going to just let me take it, not now..."

"So we won't ask her permission. We'll just get in, get out."

Louis takes the subway stairs at a run and Harry follows as fast as he can.

Louis makes Harry climb up to his second-story window, claiming this will be more stealthy than going in the front door and up the stairs. It's easy enough, there's a roof on the building next to it that can be reached by jumping on top of the dumpster and then clambering over.

Easy enough for Louis, anyway, but Harry nearly breaks his neck.

"Can't believe you're putting me in danger like this," Harry says, jokingly, but Louis looks remorseful.

"Sorry, I didn't think--"

"It's fine, I'm joking. I like going on adventures with you."

Louis blushes and then wedges Harry's window open with his pocketknife--not a hard feat, as it never quite shuts all the way. They both climb in, attempting stealth, though Harry thinks he made a bit of a thunk. He can hear chatter downstairs though, so hopefully it'll go unnoticed.

"I can't believe she's still keeping your stuff in your old room. You'd think she'd want to rent it out," Louis says.

"It was never full when I was here. It's not exactly a fashionable part of town. And her dinners didn't exactly recommend the place."

Louis scuffs his foot against the floor and kicks up a cloud of dust. "God, nothing much has been cleaned in here in the last year, has it?"

"Probably not," Harry says. It smells stale and musty, so he leaves the window open, even though it's chilly.

Louis flops on the bed. "Still, I'm jealous. You got to live free of your parents and roommates. You had your own place."

"That I couldn't cook in, or bring anyone back to, or even leave the radio on too loud," Harry says.

"You meet a lot of omegas you wanted to bring back?" Louis says.

Harry blushes. "No, but if I had... not for, like, anything untoward. Just. I'd've liked to cook for someone."

Louis smiles. "You could cook for me, if you had a kitchen. You can come cook for me at Niall's, so long as you feed him too I can't imagine he'd mind."
"Okay," Harry says. That's a sign, right? That Louis thinks of Harry as more than just a charity case?

Louis starts going through Harry's bookshelves. "Oh god, Harry, those aren't fantasy-bonding novels," Louis says, picking up one of the offending paperbacks.
Harry blushes. "My sister gave them to me, I've only read a couple."

Louis flips through to find the dirty bits, of course. He reads them in a quivery overwrought voice. "Oh Anton, the omega moaned in ecstasy. He had thought that his slick would never be met with a knot big enough to keep it all in, but his alpha filled him completely--"

Harry's laughing so much his stomach hurts. "Stop--"

"And he knew that he'd met his mate, that he wanted nothing more to be bonded to him right now, in a royal bonding ceremony the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. As a prince of the realm--oh god, this is just a whole chapter describing the bonding ceremony."

Harry giggles. "You don't want a big bonding ceremony fit for a prince?"

"Why go for prince when you can go for king? My alpha will ride in on a white stallion, and I'll be carried in on a silk-covered litter, and there'll be daisies and wildflowers along the aisle and on all the chairs..."

"Sounds a bit traditional for you," Harry says.

Louis turns his back to Harry, hunching in a little like he does when feeling vulnerable. "I can be traditional about certain things. Love. Forever."

The emotions of the whole night have been building in Harry, and he feels his eyes fill with tears. "I don't think I'll ever get to have that."

Louis turns back to him and takes Harry's face in his hands. "Don't say that. You will. Dr. Price says you're making excellent progress, you could be all fixed by winter."

"What if I'm not? What if I don't get better? What if this is just my life, in and out of hospital, for the rest of my time?"

And then Louis kisses him.

Harry's never been kissed before. He's imagined it, especially now being around Louis so much, he thinks about it rather a lot. But he couldn't have imagined it like this, Louis holding his face so carefully, the gentle tug of his lips, how soft and tender it is. It's overwhelming.

Harry can't keep sitting up if he wanted and Louis lets him gently fall back so he's lying on the bed, their lips parting, even though that's the last thing Harry wants.

Louis climbs on top of Harry slowly, their bodies so close but not yet touching. Harry doesn't know if he's allowed to touch Louis, where his hands can go.

"I've wanted," he starts, but he can't put his words into order, the nearness of Louis is garbling everything. "I've thought--ever since I met you--"

Louis combs a hand through Harry's hair. "You're the first alpha I've ever felt... like you knew me," he says.

"I want to know you," Harry says. "Want to court you. But I'm--" he bites his lip and looks away, at the ceiling. "You deserve someone well. Someone whole."
"I deserve what I want," Louis says. "And what I want is you."

Louis kisses him again, this time lowering his body down so they're pressed against each other, Louis' chest on top of Harry's, Louis' legs on either side of Harry's. Harry slides his hand up Louis' back with the lightest touch, coming to rest on Louis' lower back.

Louis' scent has been getting headier and headier, rich and deep where it was light and warm before. Now it's overheating, dark energy, mischievous and teasing. Harry's never felt anything like the way it takes over him. He surges up to Louis, his hand pressing down hard now, mouth open as he lets the kiss get sloppy, just wanting more, more.

Louis knows where to take it, knows how to suck Harry's tongue into his mouth so that Harry moans, to grind down with his hips against Harry's hardness--Harry is hard, he's desperate in a way he can't remember being since before getting sick.

"I've never--" Harry stills Louis with a hand on the back of his neck. "I want to be good. I want to make you-- but I haven't before. I don't know what to do."

Louis smiles and brings Harry's hand around to his mouth. He kisses it, then sucks Harry's finger into his mouth lightly before answering--it's the hottest thing Harry's ever experienced, the way Louis' tongue flits in between his index and pointer, just for a second.

"I haven't gone any further than this either. You don't need to feel like I'm judging you. I just... I want to feel you. Want to see you fall apart. I like that it's only me who gets to see you like this."

"Only you," Harry repeats, and pulls Louis down to kiss him again. "Only yours." Louis kisses him for several glorious minutes, and then Harry guiltily remembers what he should be telling Louis, what he should be warning him about. "I might not--they told me that the Disease might make me, you know." Harry pulls away from Louis a little. "Sterile. Not able to--" he can't bring himself to say 'knot' and he feels like an idiot for it.

"That's okay," Louis says. "We don't have to do that tonight."

"I might not ever," Harry says. He wants to cry.

Louis kisses his nose. "I just want you. However you are. Just be with me."

Harry feels a little braver, after that--he untucks Louis' shirt from his trousers, and Louis gets the message and shucks it off. His chest is beautiful, with a light dusting of golden hair and perfect pink nipples. Harry thumbs over one and Louis' breath catches. He rolls it between his fingers and Louis' scent goes wet in a way that Harry's body recognizes even before he can, his other hand dipping beneath Louis' waistband.

"Come on, wanna see you too," Louis says, tugging on Harry's shirt. Harry pulls it off a bit reluctantly, he knows he's even more pale and scrawny than usual after months in the hospital. But Louis looks pleased anyway, his hands running lightly down Harry's sides as he takes it all in.

"Have to keep quiet so your landlady doesn't hear," Louis says, and Harry had almost forgotten where they were entirely, so wrapped up in Louis.

Louis scoots down a bit so he's straddling Harry's thighs. He stares at Harry's bulge, his mouth open a little, and Harry wonders if he thinks it's obscene, how hard Harry is after just a bit of kissing, how out of control he is when he's supposed to be taking care of Louis, not the other way around--

"Can I--I've never before, but. I could blow you," Louis says, the words all running together like he's nervous.

Harry can't help the way his hips buck up at that, but Louis only looks pleased.

"Yes, yes, I'd--I'd like that," Harry says.

###

Louis can smell the way Harry's scent turns positively feral at that, and he feels his own legs widening a little of their own accord. His body has all these responses he's hardly aware of--how much he wants Harry inside of him, to let Harry flip them over and take whatever he wants.

But Louis likes this feeling, too, the feeling of holding some power over himself, over Harry--like jerking off but drawing it out, knowing that the waiting makes it better in the end even as your instincts scream to hurry. He wants to make Harry as desperate as he feels, as overwhelmed as his body wants to be.

He pops the button of Harry's trousers and the zipper practically slides itself down. Harry helps scoot his trousers and underwear down and then there he is, all Louis'.
Louis' seen alphas' dicks before in anatomy textbooks--he remembers a night at omega college spent giggling over a nursing student's textbook--but this is different. This is Harry, all Louis', to touch or suck or do whatever he pleases.

He runs his knuckles up the side lightly. Harry makes a noise like a man dying of thirst getting a drop of water.

Louis leans down and nudges it with his nose, which maybe is a stupid thing to do, but he feels weird going straight for the mouth. Harry's smell is so concentrated here, so overwhelming.

He sucks just the tip in and Harry's hips jerk further into Louis' mouth. He pulls off and frowns at Harry.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry pants. He's barely holding it together. Louis puts his hand on either side of Harry's hips--he's got to hold him down somehow--and covers his teeth like he remembers from his friends' whispered late nights--and goes for it.

Harry's little noises, the way he smells, the way he feels--it's all too much, and part of Louis just wants to let his body take over, beg Harry to fuck his face, just take whatever Harry gives him. But he likes this edge he's balancing on--not letting himself be overcome, holding Harry down.

Harry's so big, and Louis licks up the sides and around where his knot would be, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to fit it all in--but then he remembers something about using your hand too, and this is good, he can touch all of Harry this way, feel all of him.

Harry's smell shifts again, this time in a way that Louis can't ignore, and he pulls off more to keep himself in check than anything, but then Harry's shooting all over his hand and he's glad he did.

Louis looks up and Harry's staring at him like he's a god, speechless.

Louis crawls up to kiss Harry, needing some sort of grounding all of a sudden--he feels a bit floaty. He forgets his hand is covered in come and then remembers when Harry flinches at Louis' touch on his chest.

"Sorry, should probably get cleaned up," Louis says. He doesn't want to, though. He wants to lie here and let Harry kiss him, drift away a bit. He feels a bit like he's come too, even though he hasn't--he's still hard against Harry's hip.

"Don't you dare," Harry murmurs into his mouth, and Louis lets go of trying to hold onto himself and drifts out of his body.

Harry's wiping off Louis' hand with his shirt, and then slowly rolling them over--there's a question he asks but Louis barely hears it, just nods and searches for Harry's mouth again. It's like he's been pulled under a warm blanket and into somewhere dark and safe and warm, trusting Harry to lead him through. His body responding and reacting purely, nothing between him and what he desires.

###

Harry smells the change in Louis but he doesn't realize it at first, too turned on and suddenly full of wild energy. He usually gets sleepy and out of it after an orgasm, but it's like his body is aware that Louis hasn't come yet and won't be satisfied until he has. Harry's heart is rocketing in his chest, he feels now the boldness that was inaccessible to him before--he rolls Louis underneath him and Louis goes soft and pliant beneath him, his mouth chasing Harry's needily every time Harry pulls away to change their position.

He can smell Louis' slick, he can feel his hardness--it's like some sixth sense, the two of them combined together into an awareness that occupies Harry's entire being. He needs to knot Louis, he needs to fuck him--and Louis' legs are spread around his hips, Harry can thrust up against his ass--he's getting hard again at a speed which he might find astonishing if he didn't feel so caught up by the current of need he's in--to make Louis come.

He sits up and unbuttons Louis' pants before he realizes that he should probably check. "Do you want these--do you want me to take these off?" he asks.

Louis pants out a "yes" and Harry carefully unzips him and pulls them down. Louis is just as beautiful below the waist, his hips wider than Harry's even though he's smaller, the hair around his dick curly and dark, even though his leg hair is fair. Harry strokes his hand up the underside of Louis' thigh and he raises it, exposing his hole and --god--Harry bends down to get closer without thinking.

It's pink and wet with slick, and when Harry strokes a tentative finger near it, it opens for him, another bit of slick sliding out, and Harry knows with certainty he needs to taste it.

He's licking at Louis' hole before he even thinks about it. Louis lets out a gasp and Harry fucks his tongue inside, driving deeper, using his fingers to pull Louis open, get closer.

Harry's entire consciousness is this right here, Louis hot and wet under his mouth, the scent of Louis' slick raw and sharp and alive in a way that makes Harry need. He wants to fuck Louis, to feel him that way, but he wants this more right now, to drown in Louis, fuck him with his tongue until Louis comes just like this.

Louis' legs open wider, and then Harry feels him clench around his tongue and Louis comes.

Harry eases out, his lips and tongue almost sore, and then licks Louis' come off of his stomach, and every so gently off his dick.

Louis' completely pliant, sleepy and flushed and spent, and Harry crawls back up the bed so he can cuddle him, both of them falling into some state between sleep and calm.

###

Louis wakes up feeling anxious and scared, and it takes him a groggy minute to figure out why. Harry's scent is--it's not right. He rolls over to face Harry, panic starting to beat its way through his heart.

Harry's face is flushed, sweaty. Louis smooths his hair back and wakes him, but Harry's eyes are glazed.

"You're burning up," Louis says. "We should get you back to the hospital."

Harry makes a noise of assent, and tries to get up off the bed.

"Maybe you should rest a minute--" Louis starts, and then Harry collapses onto the hard floor with a crash.

It's all wrong after that, a blur of Louis' senses and experiences spiraling into a panic because his alpha is hurt, and he needs to feel safe but Harry isn't safe. The landlady is there, and then she's not, and Harry is being carried out, there's sirens, and Louis is in the back of a cab, missing his shirt but wrapped in a blanket. They're near Niall's place, he must have told the landlady his address.

He leans up to the driver. "You're taking me to the hospital?'

"I'm taking you to the address the lady gave me."

"Take me to the hospital," Louis demands. He puts all of his strongest will behind it, the voice Niall jokes makes him sound like a tiny alpha. "I'll pay you double."
The driver huffs but makes a u-turn.

Louis runs into the hospital with his blanket flying out behind him like a cape. The intake nurse stares at him. He doesn't usually come through this way, and at night.
"Harry Styles. He's a patient here? He collapsed an hour ago and had to be brought in by ambulance?"

"Are you family?" she asks.

"I'm his omega," Louis lies easily.

"Wait here, I'll see if he's allowed visitors yet," she says.

They let him up after a long half hour. Harry's in a new room, asleep, with an IV in. There's some other alpha doctor there, not Dr. Price, who's telling Louis off in a scolding tone about Harry's A hormones and thyroid balance and how it's irresponsible of Louis to make him miss his evening injections.

Louis just stares at Harry's face, breathes in his smell--Harry hasn't smelled this weak, this unlike himself, since Louis first started the sessions months ago.

Louis has to get out of there. He has to--

He calls Niall from a payphone downstairs. He used up all his cash on the cab ride here.

"Christ Louis, it's 2 in the morning," Niall says.

"I'm at the hospital. Can you come get me? And bring me a shirt?" Louis says.

"The hospital? Is it Harry?" Niall's worried now.

Louis swallows a sob. "Just come, alright?"

Niall rushes in twenty minutes later, and finds Louis sitting all folded up in a chair in the waiting room. Niall hands Louis his handkerchief and Louis tries to get ahold of himself.

"We were getting Harry's stuff from his mean old landlady. And he collapsed..."

Niall listens as Louis tells the story in between sniffles.

"But he's going to be alright?" Niall asks.

"I can't do this," Louis says, and it comes pouring out of him, all slurred together. "I can't live this way, not knowing when he's going to collapse, not knowing if he's gonna be around in two years. I'm not steadfast, I'm not a great romantic, I'm... I'm a good time omega. I'm a dilettante, a flirt, it's what everyone says and they're right. I'm not gonna amount to anything and I can't be the kind of omega Harry needs, to stand by him. I can't."

"I thought Harry was different? You really like him, yeah?"

"I do," Louis says. "But it's not enough, is it?"

"If you really feel that way," Niall says slowly. "If you're not just running scared... then you're right. You shouldn't jerk him around."

Louis feels a fresh wave of tears come over him, remembering just hours before when Harry was inside him, when Louis was floating away and felt so safe and taken care of. You don't deserve that, he thinks. You can't be what he needs.

"Take me home?" he asks Niall.

Niall nods.

###

Louis ignores the phone when it rings and tells Niall to say he's not there, and after a week it stops. He lets the shop stay shut--at some point he's going to have to deal with the stock--but his lease is through the end of the month, so he's still got a few weeks. He eats when Niall brings him food and tries to get a grip on regulating his own moods, his own thoughts--he doesn't need an alpha to feel calm.
He calls the hospital once, pretending to be a friend, to ask after Harry, but they won't release any information and he gives up.

Mother shows up the next Sunday with a new pair of breeches. Sky-blue silk, and a omega-cut shirt to match.

"You're going to this fundraiser for your father. You're going to be polite, and charm the alpha clients, and you're going to wear the stockings I bought you for Christmas."

Louis agrees, because that's what he's meant for, isn't it? He's a decoration, a nice piece of ass for his father's alpha clients to flirt with.
Niall keeps trying to have a real conversation but Louis blows him off.

###

Louis puts on the new breeches and his best silk stockings. He almost wears the vest his Mom approves of, but at the last minute switches it out for some sample suspenders he had made for the shop. They're a bit too dark for the pastels of his outfit, but he likes the contrast.
The gala room of the hotel is all decked out, there's an orchestra and a full bar and pheromones everywhere, some sprayed-on and some real. Elegant silk-covered omegas and their properly staid wool-clad alphas mingle, along with betas wearing more muted versions of omega clothes or more flamboyant kinds of alpha-wear. It's how everyone used to dress, as mother always says. Everyone in their place, presentation immediately visible to everyone, a coded and organized hierarchy.

Louis wrinkles his nose and tries not to inhale. He used to love these parties. Telling funny stories, admiring crowds hanging on his every word, feeling every alpha in the room looking at him and reveling in their attention--

Back before he came out into society. Back before father put an AVAILABLE sign on his back.

It's only when he glances at one of the hanging signs that he realizes what the fundraiser is for--

The hospital.

He whips his head around in panic, eyes combing through the room, hoping he won't find--

Dr. Price is here, wearing a suit, her hand on the back of an omega that must be her mate. Louis ducks behind a balloon arch before she can see him. Shit. But at least they're not--they're not bringing out the patients, would they?

And then the musicians are taking a break--his father is introducing a group up near the stage--and out from behind the crowd walks Harry, curls long around his ears, eyes searching the room.

Louis can't deal with this. He slips out and finds the nearest omega's room.

###

It smells disgustingly floral in here, but at least he won't run into Harry. Louis takes his time fixing his hair, adjusting his shirt, listening to the chatter of the female omegas in the stalls--one of them is courting and wants advice on getting her alpha to agree to a date for a bonding ceremony.

Louis wonders how long he can stay in here without it getting weird. The attendant is already eyeing him, though probably only because she's expecting a tip.

The omega girls flush and exit their stalls. Both are wearing pastel silk, one in tangerine and one in peach. The fabric is gorgeous, skirts big enough that they brush Louis even though he's two sinks away.

"--And I just can't wait anymore, he can only expect me to be so patient, you know?" she says to her friend, and pauses to fix her hairpiece in the mirror.

The other girl catches sight of Louis. "You're the Tomlinson son!"

She's a little drunk. Louis nods, and tries not to seem too cold. "That's me."

"We heard about your little shop. I was just telling Francine, it's in that horribly urban hippie village downtown."

"17th and Vine, yeah. It's perfectly safe during the day," Louis says.

The girl shares a look with her friend. "You have suiting, right? Custom tailored?"

"Yes," Louis says, unsure of where this is going.

"Well my bonding ceremony is next year, never mind Francine's cold-foot brute--my alpha does things proper--" Francine elbows her, it's clear this is said in jest. "And my mother's planning the traditional hunting picnic, and all she can find for omega suiting are these dowdy little skirts and breeches, terribly 19th century."

"We could do you in mod suiting," Louis says, his salesman voice switching on from weeks of practice. "The modern look, that's our specialty. We've got all the latest tweeds and plaids, long pants if you want them, mod-fitting jackets--Sorry, I don't have a card on me, but we're right on the corner of 17th and Vine--Tommo's. Come by next week, I'll give you a deal for orders over five," Louis says.

"Fab!" the girl says. "I'll have everyone in the omega party come and get fitted. I want a sort of London-mod tweed, you know, something cool..."

She and her friend leave arm in arm, with a wave. Louis feels a little dazed. He almost forgets what he came in here for.
Right--the party. Dr. Price.

He fixes his hair one more time, and then leaves a bill for the attendant before venturing back out.

The music is back on, and people have taken to the dance floor, a whirling waltz of silk in every color.

Louis could sneak out now. He eyes the exits, and starts to walk casually but quickly...

"Louis!" he hears his name called and Niall is coming towards him with a drink. He looks jovial, and normal, like his world isn't falling apart around his ears.

"Shit, Niall, can we... I'm not in the mood," Louis says.

"You love these things," Niall says. "What's going on with you? You've been in a rotten mood for weeks."

Louis pointedly doesn't look towards the front, where his father's table is. "Niall, do you think I'm spoiled? Am I a brat?"

Niall laughs. "Of course you are, you love being a brat."

"You think I'm not a serious person."

"Louis... where is this coming from? You've never been bothered about being annoying, or demanding, or a handful..."

"Maybe I don't want to be a handful anymore," Louis mutters.

"Is this about your father?"

"No."

Niall swirls his drink and looks careful. "Is this about that alpha? Harry?"

Louis feels something building in him, anger or recklessness or something else, and there's no one to talk him down. No one to calm him with a stupidly large hand to his hip...

"Louis, be careful," Niall warns, as Louis marches towards his father's table.

"Louis!" His father says grandly. There are clients near him, but Louis rudely pulls his father to the side.

"What's this about?" His father says, carefully neutral in tone. "Didn't your mother speak to you about tonight? You're meant to be on your best behavior."

"I'm not a child, Pater. I'm not on any 'behavior'."

"Don't know what I ever did to have such an ungrateful..." Pater takes off his glasses and rubs them, looking dejected. Louis knows better. "All I do is to ensure this company is in good shape for you and your children. And how do you thank me? By throwing away your mother's loans on some vanity shop?"

"I'm starting my own line, it's supposed to be a little vain! Nobody buys clothes from anyone who isn't! And I just secured a massive order, for a wedding party!" Louis says, voice rising a little. "Do you want the Tomlinson brand to be known as the elderly's church clothes? Don't you want to shake things up?"

"I don't want our brand tarnished by being sold to hippies in some dirty squat-hole," Pater mutters.

"I'm taking initiative! I'm building something! I'm trying to be worthy of taking over the company some day!" Louis shouts. He knows he's making a proper scene now.

"You're not supposed to take over the company!" Pater shouts back. "You're supposed to bond with the alpha who will!"

Louis lets the silence breathe, his anger making him oddly calm. A hush has fallen over the room, and their words carry easily over the music.

"I may not be the alpha son you wanted. But I'm the son you've got. And I'm going to make it in this business. Whether it's under the Tomlinson brand or not."

Louis storms away just in time to catch a glimpse of one face among all the others watching him--Harry's.
He doesn't look back to see if Harry follows him out, but he smells him.

###

Harry follows Louis out of the ballroom, down the hallway and to a side door and out into an alley.

Louis' breathing heavily, and he smells agitated, and Harry longs to put his hand on Louis' hip, take him into his arms, calm him and scent him and make him alright. But he doesn't have that right anymore.

He can't let Louis not know, though--"I'm so proud of you," he gushes, as Louis turns around to face him.

"You are?" Louis says, his voice cracking a bit.

"You're so strong, and so brave. And so good at what you do, Louis. Your father should see that."

Louis holds Harry's gaze for a moment and then looks away, laughs. "I can't believe you're here, of all places."

"I wasn't sure... when they told me who was sponsoring. But I had to see if you... if you were here. And if you did want to speak to me..."

"What is there to say?" Louis says. He won't look Harry in the eye. "I'm not good for you. We had sex and you--Harry." He rubs at his nose. "One night with me and you almost died."

"It wasn't the sex," Harry says, blushing. "It was missing my evening meds. And maybe a little bit the hormone surge, but that's--I wouldn't have changed a thing. That night--Louis, you must know--you must know how I love you. How much I'd like to be yours. How much I'd like... to deserve you."

Louis takes a too-big breath. He smells like crying, and Harry can't stand it.

"Just... if you wanted, whatever you wanted, I'd..." Harry starts.

And then Louis jumps into his arms and buries his face in Harry's shoulder. He's breathing rough, and Harry noses the back of his head, holds his thighs tight. He's still a bit weak, though, and his arms tremble a little and Louis eases his feet down to the ground.

Louis cups Harry's face in his hands and looks him in the eye, finally. "You deserve so much, too. You deserve someone who's... who's serious. I'm just a flake, a good-time. I've never been steady about anyone or anything in my life."

Harry's stomach is in knots. "Not even now?"

Louis bites his lip. "What if I'm wrong? About how I'm feeling? What if I get a few months in and change my mind?"

"I'd take a few months with you. I'd take forever with you. I want anything, everything. Just let me be yours. Let me try," Harry says.

Louis surges forward on his tiptoes to kiss Harry, and Harry lifts him up again, twirling them slowly. The music from inside is faint but he sways to it, and Louis laughs and kisses his neck.

###

Louis walks Harry back to the hospital, even though it's a long walk, and the night is chilly. Harry doesn't mind. He's floating, everything is soft-lit and beautiful, and he can lean down and bury his face in Louis' scent whenever he wants. If there's anything else on this earth, he doesn't need it.

They get to the hospital doors and Harry pulls Louis in for a hug that he refuses to let go of.

"When are you going to let me talk to you about forever?" Harry murmurs into Louis' hair.

"Not for another few weeks, at least," Louis says.

Harry nods. There's so much more he needs to say, but it's late, and he doesn't want to ruin tonight with all the heavy things. He wants this light, airy warmth to stay his for just another few hours.

He kisses Louis--makes himself pull away when it starts to get a bit inappropriate for public--and finally lets him go.

###

Their last scheduled session is two days later. Harry makes an appointment with Dr. Price before.

"Has it worked?" he asks, before she even sits down in the chair by his bedside. "I feel loads better, my energy's up, my appetite's better than ever..."

Dr. Price smiles. "You've made some real improvements, Mr. Styles."

Harry bites his lip. "But."

"But, I don't see your need for injections decreasing any time soon. You'll still need them twice a day."

Harry sits up straight, willing his voice to be calm, for it all to come out like he practiced. "I've watched the nurses do my injections for months. Couldn't I be trained to do my own injections? Or have home visits for them? That way I wouldn't be such a burden on the hospital."

Dr. Price frowns. "That's unconventional..."

"Isn't this therapy idea a little unconventional? Dr. Price?"

"Harry, you're still prone to crashes and fainting spells. What happens if you had an episode at home?"

"I could have a roommate," Harry says. "He could keep an eye on me. And I promise I'd check myself in if I started to feel weak."

Dr. Price looks at him, considering. "You know, I think that could work. We could start you on home visits for a few weeks and then see how it goes. But any change in your levels, I'm readmitting you, alright?"

"Understood," Harry says. The next thing he wants to talk about is a bit more sensitive. He's blushing in anticipation. "Dr. Price... Am I... will I be sterile?"

Dr. Price takes one of his hands in hers. "Lerfan's Disease affects everyone differently. But there is a real possibility that you will never gain proper knotting function. You may never be able to inseminate an omega."

Harry nods, willing himself not to cry. It's what he was expecting, but he still has hope...

"You've made remarkable progress. There's every reason to be optimistic, especially with the release of hormones from bonding," Dr. Price says with a grin. "The nurses talk, you know. Am I to extend my congratulations? I am matchmaker."

"We're taking it slow," Harry says. "And we need... there's still so much to discuss."

Dr. Price nods. She pats his arm and stands up. "I'll still be your doctor, even for the home visits. You let me know if you need anything, Mr. Styles."

Harry nods, and then he smells another visitor--and he can't help but lean around Dr. Price to look at him.

Louis is wearing a new suit, this one with some attached suspenders he designed himself, and a jacket that's cut shorter and tighter, with contrast lining when you roll up the cuffs. It's his best work yet, and Harry makes an appreciative whistle when he twirls around to show it off.

"Cool threads, man," Harry says, in a horrible imitation of hippie speak.

Dr. Price exchanges niceties with Louis and slips out, winking at Harry as she leaves.

Louis runs up and jumps heavily onto the bed, and Harry tickles him until he giggles and bats Harry's hands away.

"I can't believe it's our last session," Louis says. "This place is gonna miss me."

"Starting next week you won't have to come here anymore," Harry says. "I'm cleared for home treatments."

"Harry!" Louis kisses him. "That's great! You're making real progress then?"

Harry nods, mood deflating at the reminder of what he's got to do. "Haven't decided if I'm gonna move back in with mom and dad or see if the landlady will let me have the room back. But I need to talk to you... we need to be serious."

Louis frowns. "I'm trying to be. I've been better, haven't I?"

"No, no, it's not... it's not anything you've done. I talked to Dr. Price before you came. About... about things that concern you too. If we're going to keep on... being together."

Louis snuggles closer to Harry. "We are."

"Louis," Harry says, his voice small. "I might never be cured."

"But you're stable? You're good enough to go home?" Louis asks.

"That doesn't mean..."

"We'll take it as it goes," Louis says.

Harry breathes in and out deeply, willing himself to say what comes next. "I might be sterile."

Louis is quiet for a moment. "I read that. I mean, I knew it was a possibility."

"Louis, you want kids," Harry says.

"We'll have them," Louis says.

"I might not be able."

"So I'll steal some," Louis says. "I'd make an excellent baby-napper. Babies love me, they'd follow me right out of their cradles like the pied piper."

"Don't joke," Harry bites back a sob.

"Harry," Louis says. He scoots up until their faces are even. "I choose you. You're my alpha. Everything else comes after that, alright?"

"How could I ever deserve you?"

"Be happy," Louis says. "Be alive." He kisses Harry and then whispers in his ear. "Eat me out again."

Harry snorts and feels his pulse pick up a little, even though this isn't the place.

"I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?" Harry says.

Louis bites his ear. "You love it."

"I do," Harry says.