Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

jschlatt hears the creak of the bedroom door. he burrows deeper into his nest, ashamed of his pheromones. he had forgotten to take his heat suppressant pills, and with everything that had happened in the past five years, it was hard to keep track.

"schlatt?" a soft, baritone voice floats through the layers of quilts jschlatt is under. "schlatt, are you alright? we have to film an episode of chuckle sandwich now."

jschlatt doesn't answer. he feels a weight on the other end of the bed; ted must have sat down.

"schlatt, you gotta talk to me."

jschlatt whimpers in pain. he can't answer. the flames of pain washing over him choke him, and he is unable to do more than produce a single sound.

ted moves closer, and sighs. "i thought you were getting better; i thought you remembered to take your suppressants."

a pregnant pause.

"today's the anniversary, isn't it?" ted mutters.

jschlatt chokes on an inhale. "yes."

ted burrows his meaty arms into schlatt's nest, and wraps them around schlatt's frail new york body.

"it's not your fault," ted whispers. "what happened to him is not your fault."

they didn’t say travis’ name. not out loud. ted knew cooper was just upstairs, waiting for them to record. it's been so long, but just hearing his mate’s name could send him into a frenzy.

"i could've saved him," jschlatt gasps. "i should've seen the signs."

ted feels jschlatt’s chest rise and fall at rapid pace, heart pounding against his ribs.

“schlatt, i need you to breathe.”

jschlatt whimpers, tears pooling in his amber new york orbs.

ted takes a breath, rubbing circles into schlatt’s back. “five,” he says.

schlatt immediately knows what ted is referring to; since travis’ passing, schlatt had been having frequent panic attacks, and ted had known exactly what to do from the first one. schlatt wondered what ted had gone through to have this knowledge.

schlatt blinked heavily, searching through his tear-stained eyes to find five things he could see from inside his nest.

“charlie’s hoodie,” he whispers. “my youtooz plushie, jambo, my goop candle, my pillow.”

“good,” ted says. “four?”

jschlatt grounded himself in search of four things he could feel.

“the bed, jambo, my mustache, your arms.”

“three.”

schlatt strains his ears.

“my breathing, jambo purring, your heart beating.”

ted chokes on his next inhale. “t….two?”

schlatt breathes deeply, air rushing through his cavernous nostrils.

“jambo’s fish breath,” he softly laughs. “your phermones.”

ted pauses. “my phermones?”

“teakwood. pine, a hint of milk.”

ted feels his face flush.

“one?”

schlatt licks his chapped lips restlessly, feeling more grounded now.

“i don’t know. my mouth? i’m not tasting much of anything right now.”

what he neglected to say was how much he wished ted was the one he was tasting.

he raises his head from the depths of his nest, looking at ted’s grief-wrought body. he looked paler today. lost some weight, too.

“i should’ve called him,” schlatt says softly, not really to ted, whose strong bostonian legs were now entangled between schlatt’s.

ted doesn’t look up. “he knew you loved him.”

“that’s not enough.” schlatt’s voice cracks, rough and hoarse. “i should’ve called him.”

travis was one of those rare omegas whose presence settled people. when he was around, no matter how much the others bickered or spiraled, he’d bring that anchor energy. with him gone, there’s no natural regulator anymore. everything’s off. mismatched scents. unspoken tension. no emotional gravity to keep them from flying apart.

a broken heart.

that’s what the doctor said. no signs of illness. no overdose. no explanation.

“do you really think people can just die like that?” schlatt whispers now, looking over to ted.

ted raises his head, just enough to meet schlatt’s eyes. his were red-rimmed, tired. he hadn’t slept—not really. “i think… i think travis gave everything he had to us. and when lunch club was over, so was he.”

“ted..” schlatts voice cracks again. “i could have called him. we could have done something before carson-”

“that's enough, schlatt,” ted interrupts, careful to keep his voice low enough so only schlatt could hear. “it's over now, and cooper needs us”.

schlatt let out a breath he didnt know he was holding, that trembled like a kicked pup. “i miss them. i miss us.”

silence stretched. schlatt reached out, touched the side of ted’s neck, right where the bond mark would’ve gone, if they’d ever been brave enough to talk about what they were. not quite bonded. not quite apart.

the house groaned as the wind picked up, a storm raging outside. somewhere upstairs, cooper shifts in his chair, impatiently looking over to charlie. the bond that once hummed between them was quiet now. everything was dull. everyone was grieving.

the house mourned alongside them. the walls were painted in grief, the foundation groaning under the weight of the loss.

cooper was now mateless. and the rest of them were left to fill in the hole.

they’d lost a lunch packmate. more than a friend, almost a lover.

but what remained—what always remained—was this: the shape of their love, bruised but breathing. ted’s arms. cooper’s laughter that would come again, someday. and schlatt’s omega heart cracked open, still beating.

Chapter Text

booming laughter echoes from below, voices fluttering up to the rooftop where cooper and travis sit. 

everyone’s gathered in the living room during a mediashare stream. but they’re outside. 

“so, i use this next?” travis asks him.

the lighter sits by cooper’s fingertips- the same one ted had given him for christmas, a golden lighter with an engraving of a big lion. the cold wind blow across the roof as he hands it over.

“here,” cooper says as he hands it over. “put it right up to the edge of the bowl, the wind will put it out if you don’t.”

travis looks back at him and smiles. it’s his first time smoking, and he wants to do it with cooper. cooper feels honored, and the small knot in his stomach twists tighter.

travis’ eyes sparkle, reflecting the flick of the lighter as it heads towards his bong. the smoke fills up the tube and he presses his lips against the glass.

it’s just the two of them, together. 

travis takes a deep breath. he looks at cooper as his big brown eyes begin to water.

“travis, no, it doesn’t do anything if you hold it!” cooper laughs. a smile crawls across his face as travis coughed the smoke into the wind. 

“bro…” he chokes. “burnt my throat…” tears fall down his cheeks, but he smiles back at cooper.

“you got it, just be careful next time.”

cooper’s hands reach over to grab the bong, and they both pause as their fingertips brush. an electric shock passes between them. 

travis glances at cooper’s face before fixing his gaze on his lap. a heavy silence hangs between them.

cooper takes a hit, reveling in the burning of his lungs. 

“i could sit here for hours,” travis softly says. 

another round of raucous laughter echoes up from above. a chorus of “uh oh, stinky” breaks through the night silence, carson’s voice drowning out the rest.

cooper chuckles. “but we can’t,” he whispers, the moment as broken as his alpha heart. this game of “will they, won’t they” has gone on for so long, cooper’s sure travis would never want to mate with him. “we just can’t.”

suddenly, cooper’s hand is covered by travis’ huge omega hand. 

“why not?” travis utters below his breath. the smoke and tension between them makes it difficult to breathe.

cooper stares into travis’ eyes, which hold his gaze with a fire behind them. they lean closer to each other.

then, cooper feels a hand on his shoulder. he startles out of his reverie, staring out at the smog-cloaked skyline stretching out in front of him. The rooftop he sits on now may have been different than the one he and his mate had frequented, but it hurts all the same.

“i was waiting for you,” a soft voice floats from behind him.

cooper turns. charlie stands there, holding a cracked, deteriorating bong. he gives a small, sad smile.

cooper struggles to find his voice. “why do you have that?”

charlie looks down at the bong and shrugs. “found it in a box of his stuff. thought you might want it.” he holds it out hesitantly.

cooper takes the bong, cradling it gently in his hands. so many memories were made in the presence of this relic. 

“why are you here?” his voice cracks. he fixes his gaze on the smoking paraphernalia.

“it’s time to record,” charlie replies. a car horn sounds, bouncing off the walls of the buildings like a sonic game of pong.

“oh,” cooper licks his cracked lips, dry from the brisk wind. “i forgot.”

he had been staying at ted and schlatt's place for so long that the days had begun to blend together. nobody trusted him to be on his own just yet. 

charlie sighs and sits down beside him, closely watching his face. 

“y’know, i would watch you guys together. up on the roof.”

cooper looks over to his old friend, the glare of his glasses covering his eyes.

“you two would always separate from the group when we went out. i saw the way you looked at him.”

charlie pauses, letting the wind ruffle his blonde locks.

“and the way he looked at you.”

cooper watches his friend’s face, which was focused intently on the cityscape before them. It expands out into the horizon, twinkling lights and rusty fire escapes blending together in a miasma of life.

“to be honest, i was envious of you,” he says with a slight chuckle.

cooper blinks.

“i didn’t-“ cooper begins.

“i knew it wasn’t for me– i’m asexual,” he interrupts. he finally turns his head towards cooper, trying to find the right words. 

“you're the first to know,” charlie smiles.

they sit for a moment, until charlie dramatically sighs and begins to stand. 

“it’s time to record. i’ll see you in there.”

with a click of the window behind them, charlie disappears into the house.