Chapter Text
Harry's POV
There's nothing wrong with having routines, and Harry is tired of people creating a problem where there isn't one.
On any given Wednesday night, he sits at his computer playing around with a coding assignment for one of the two companies he does coding for in his free time. It's freelance, and he just picks one of two jobs they need done every week. It's nice to have a schedule and being spontaneous is overrated where Harry is concerned.
On Friday's he's usually eating reheated leftover curry before he loses a couple of hours inside whatever game he's currently hooked on. Predictability is safe, and it means no one expects him to be charming or witty or, God forbid, interesting in real time.
So he really doesn't know how Zayn and Niall have talked him into this. His leftover curry has been replaced with a subpar pizza, his video game with trying to avoid talking about himself with Niall and Zayn, and his current fantasy novel at bedtime will probably be replaced with drinks at a bar he really has no desire to be at.
"You're 23," Niall had said earlier this afternoon, sitting on the edge of Harry's desk. "You can't just rot behind computer screens forever, mate. You need to get out sometimes and meet people. Touch a bit of grass, you know? Or at least touch a pint."
Harry had laughed at Niall's reasoning. Zayn would have been smart about it, having him agree to go out before he even realised what had happened. Niall? He's like an irritatingly persuasive child. Sometimes he agrees with whatever Niall suggests just to make him shut up.
"I do touch grass, thank you very much," Harry had argued. He trains outside four times a week. He runs and he usually joins some outside HIIT classes in the park. He takes physical fitness very seriously.
"That's not touching grass," Niall had scoffed, as he picked the pen free from Harry's grip to twirl between his own fingers. "That's existing in the same universe as grass."
"What does he even mean?" Harry had asked their friend Zayn.
"I haven't a clue," Zayn, usually the voice of reason,had grinned at him while rolling his eyes at Niall. But then Zayn had backed Niall, the traitor. "Come on, mate. One night won't kill you. You haven't gone out with us for more than six months."
Niall had nodded vigorously. "Don't you need to get laid?"
Harry had sighed. "I have regular sex."
"Live a little, H. There are more interesting people out there than James from HR," Niall had stated, effectively closing that part of the discussion.
"There's a new bar near the town square that's supposed to be good. You might even enjoy yourself if you let go for once," Zayn had tried to reason with him.
He's probably right. He potentially could have fun and there are more interesting people in the world than James. There are also many people more interesting than Harry. He and James have a mutually beneficial friends-with-benefits situation going on, where they schedule each other into their calendars for ninety minutes every ten days.
He had discovered that regular sex is important for his mental health, and he's gone about it like he does anything. He had considered his options, found the best solution and had presented his findings to James, who had happily agreed. Two years later, and it still works beautifully. Harry doesn't understand why this kind of situation rarely works for other people. He gets to have sex with an attractive omega he has absolutely no feelings for. It scratches an itch, and it's the same for James. It works.
He had tried to mutter something about preferring his book, but Niall had already clapped him on the shoulder with finality. "It's settled then. Tonight, you're ours," Niall had grinned. "Don't worry, we'll even let you wear one of your nerdy jumper vests," he had finished laughing.
Now, hours later, Harry is standing outside the bar waiting for his work friends. Well, two of his only friends. His anxiety and social awkwardness meant that developing friendships wasn't an easy feat for Harry. Usually, it meant that his friends had to be persistent and insist on keeping the friendship alive. Zayn and Niall had done that and he truly does appreciate them.
Not so much right now, though. It's ten past nine and they agreed to meet here at nine sharp. He's not surprised, but he is annoyed and currently regretting the life choices that had led him here.
Neon letters spell out the name of the club, The Hive, and people are already spilling out of the bar, drinks and cigs in hand. Everyone is in a great mood, and their scents are mingling in the summer air. He's never good with crowds of people, but when he doesn't know anyone, it's much worse. His palms are getting clammy just thinking of everything that could go wrong. What if Niall and Zayn don't show up, or if he spills his drink down his front— or even worse, spills it on someone else? Any conversation is bound to be awkward, and if he starts talking about anything that interests him, rejection is unavoidable.
"You look like you're about to bolt," Zayn says gently, as he and Niall appear by his side.
"I can still go home," Harry mutters, picking at his left thumb's cuticle.
"Not a chance," Niall says cheerfully, as he grabs Harry's elbow and guides him forward. "You need this. You'll thank us tomorrow when you've pulled, and James from HR isn't the only omega you've knotted in years."
The words out of Niall's mouth are crude, but Harry knows he means well.
Harry nearly trips over the threshold, but Zayn's well-placed hand on his back steadies him. "Relax," Zayn tells him. "Just stick with us."
Relax? Yeah, right. That's easier said than done. Especially since his senses scream the minute they're fully stepped inside. The air is thick and humid, and the music is so loud it seems to vibrate off the walls. The strobe lights, while beautiful, hurt his eyes, and he misses his glasses, instantly regretting that he left them on his nightstand. And that's all without the scents. They're everywhere! Sugary cocktails, cheap beer, sweat and pheromones hanging heavy in the air. He can pick up plenty of other Alpha's scents and Omega scents, and it's making his head spin.
He hates bars. They make him feel extra clumsy, like he's an intruder in a world where everyone but him seems to know the rules. Niall is already at the bar ordering shots for them, and Zayn is greeting someone across the room with a hug. "Stick with us," he'd said…
And Harry… Harry hovers awkwardly at the edge of it all, his sweater vest is too warm, his curls falling into his eyes, and anxiety is trying to put its claws into him.
Niall saves him from his spiralling thoughts. "Here," he grins as he presses a glass into Harry's hand. "Drink. Loosen up."
Harry eyes the liquid warily. "What is it?"
"Alcohol. Now down it," Niall orders.
Harry wrinkles his nose. He's not one for drinks. If he's having alcohol, he will typically go for a glass of wine or a beer, if he must. He often finds beers too sweet, but Niall is looking at him expectantly, so he forces himself to take a sip. It burns as he swallows, sweet and sharp all at once. He coughs into his fist to Niall's delight.
"Atta boy," Niall says as he's patting his back, before he wanders off again, saying something about needing the loo.
Harry doesn't want to be anyone's boy. Definitely not Niall's. He wants to be at home, reading. He wants…
And then it hits him.
It cuts through the haze of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. A scent so sharp and sweet and… grounding… dizzying even, all at once. It rises above instead of mingling with the other scents of the room. It's clean and magnetic, and it feels like it slides under his skin before he can even process what is happening.
His body reacts before his mind has a chance to catch up. His head turns on its own account, his eyes scanning the crowd, desperate to locate the source. Every cell in his body feels alive, and he hasn't felt this euphoric in… forever, possibly.
And then he sees him.
In the middle of the dance floor. An omega lit briefly by the strobe lights.
Harry has never seen anything like it. It's like his scent is evaporating off him, looking like an aura around him. He can't really place the scent. It's definitely… comforting? Peaceful even.
He takes a step towards him, a need to be closer so all encompassing that he doesn't fight it. The omega is laughing at something his friend says. It leaves his throat long and inviting when he throws his head back in laughter. He looks angelic, and Harry is overtaken by possessiveness. He needs to speak to that omega. His eyes flicker across the room, almost like they're searching for something, too. When their eyes meet, the wind is knocked out of Harry's lungs when he sees the omega's eyes. They are the kind of blue that makes Harry forget how to breathe.
Everything else around him blurs. He thinks Niall might be speaking to him, but he can't be arsed to pay attention to him. The only thing he sees is the sharp and curious gaze of the omega. A devastating smirk tugs around the omega's mouth, and Harry can feel his mouth turn upwards on one side, probably making one of his dimples pop.
Harry wants to look away. It's too much, too extraordinary what is happening. His heart is racing, his sweater vest feels suffocating all of a sudden, and he can feel his anxiety trying to take control of his actions. In stark contrast, his alpha instincts are howling at him, demanding that he closes the distance between himself and the omega. His scent is intoxicating, even if Harry can't fully place it. Definitely some subtle vanilla. It's not a sweet vanilla, but drier and extremely alluring to him.
His anxiety wins the first round when it convinces him that he's being stupid. The omega is magnetic, a ray of light, and so far out of Harry's league it's actually laughable. He will take one look and Harry and decide he's not worthy of sharing the same air as the omega.
But Louis, though Harry didn't know his name yet, didn't look away.
The omega's lips curve into a grin, slow and deliberate. Harry's stomach flips, and for a second, he's certain he's going to be sick. His knees nearly give out when the omega raises his drink in a casual salute.
The omega noticed him.