Chapter Text
He’d smelled hundreds of Omegas before — sweet, floral, forgettable.
But this one… honey and sunlight and everything fresh. The kind of scent that made his fangs ache.
Pugsley had never smelled anything like it. It was alive — bright and golden against the city’s lifeless haze.
Even though he’d never met the Omega, the scent felt familiar somehow. Calming. But beneath it, there was fear — and sadness that clung like rain.
—
Eugene hated the city — the noise, the crowds, the way people stared.
But most of all, he hated the scents. Or at least, the ones he imagined.
He couldn’t smell them. Hadn’t been able to for as long as he could remember.
His mother told him once that he’d been attacked by an Alpha as a baby. The doctors thought the fear he must have smelled on her that day had overloaded something in him — a kind of trauma response that shut his sense of smell off for good.
He had always had some semblance of hope that his smell would return.
But as the years went on and nothing changed his hope diminished.
In turn he was sure that he hadn't developed a scent. Omegas were supposed to have very vivid and strong ones but he assumed that because his sense of smell was damaged his scent glands must have been too.
His mother had always said that the doctors warned her that it might be the case for the first few years of his life after the attack.
—
As he walked through the streets on his way to work someone bumped into him.
He didn't have to smell his scent to know he was an alpha.
—
The alpha turned and looked at him before he smiled and opened his mouth to say something but Eugene was quicker.
"Watch where you're going," he snarled.
The alpha looked taken aback for a moment before he raised his hands in surrender smirking as he did so, " Feisty are we?"
Eugene grimaced before replying, "Cute—but try walking with your eyes open next time, might get you farther."
The alpha snarled before stepping closer.
Before anyone could react Eugene's knee came up connecting hard.
The alpha doubled over swearing loudly as Eugene spat, "Keep your hands to yourself— and don't follow me."
—
Pugsley watched as the Omega stormed off.
The whole thing seemed to happen in seconds. He hadn’t seen every move, but he’d heard the commotion and smelled the sharp, restless tension in the male’s scent.
From what he had caught, the Omega’s aggression was almost violent — waves of it rolled off him, but beneath it lingered fear, raw and threatening to spill over.
Then, just before the Omega turned to leave, fangs flashing, as he spat:
“Keep your hands to yourself — and don’t follow me.”
That was all Pugsley needed. The pull hit him instantly: honey-sweet and alive, wrapping around his senses, leaving him rooted where he stood, utterly captivated.
—
Eugene didn't remember anything in between the alpha bumping into him and getting to work.
The only thing he did know for sure was that he needed to find someplace to hide.
—
Curled up in the stall, he clutched at the apron, a reminder that he had tables to serve, orders to take — a routine he could almost hold onto.
He knew he had to get back to work, he knew his tables would be waiting for him. Knew he’d have to serve them with the same careful smile he always wore.
But the fear was still clinging to his body, refusing to let go.
—
Eventually he straightened his apron, tying it tighter taking a deep breath as he did so.
Leaving the bathroom he fell into the same easy rhythm he always did.
He wiped down tables, took orders, and delivered food to the correct tables.
All the while carefully interacting with his colleagues trying to avoid it as much as possible.
There were three of them his fellow servers, Enid, Agnes, and Ajax.
He didn't mind there presence Infact he felt they helped to ground him in a strangely comforting way.
Enid was an alpha with a heart of gold. She wasn't crude or rough like the other alphas Eugene had encountered. She always went out of her way to make sure he was okay even if he never responded. It was like she had a sixth sense when it came to how he was feeling.
Agnes on the other hand, she was a beta but she had this way of appearing out of nowhere almost as if she was invisible. It kinda scared Eugene if he was honest, but she was nice enough.
And finally Ajax, he was a beta like Agnes but that's where the similarities ended. Ajax was colder compared to the other two. Not that he was rude he just had a different way of showing his feelings similar to Eugene he kept his true emotions bottle up.
—
Eugene calmed with every action he took.
The small movements of Enid's reassuring smile, Agnes moving from table to table barely noticeable, and Ajax, cold but calm, folding napkins in the back, gave him a strange sort of steadiness. He took a slow breath, letting his shoulders relax just a fraction.
As his shift went on he noticed things he normally wouldn't, like the sound of traffic outside the doors, and the chime of the bell every time a group of people came through the doors.
Every little thing helping him to ground himself more.
He even worked up the courage to respond when Enid asked him how his morning was and if he had any plans for the weekend.
To which he responded with a simple, " Not much just cleaning, what about you?"
Which in a very Enid like way resulted in a lengthy response about how she was going to visit her girlfriends family for the first time and how she was a little nervous— before they were yelled at to," Run some damn food!" because, "Tables are waiting!"
As he got back to work he noticed more, the lights seemed to be brighter then usual and the low hum from the radiator seemed louder.
Agnes appeared behind him causing him to jump slightly. Agnes laughed and he joined in soon after before she asked some meaningless question about if he'd finished all his tasks and if he would be clocking out soon.
Eugene adjusted his apron and straightened his back, each motion grounding him. Across the room, eyes lingered on him — drawn with an intensity he couldn’t feel, a pull he didn’t yet understand. He didn’t notice it, didn’t see the shadow near the doorway, the way it lingered, silent but aware. And yet, somehow, it marked the start of something neither of them could ignore.