You Can Be My New Addiction
“What’s the dealio with all this ‘Alpha’ crap people keep natterin’ on about? I tried askin’ Hank, but he just spewed out all this science crap I couldn’t understand with a textbook.”
Scott blinks. What? “You mean to say you don’t know?”
“Yeah. What’s an Alpha in human terms? In animals, I know I’m an Alpha ‘cause they either avoid me or follow me like I’m a frickin’ Messiah.”
“H-How do you not know? It’s what defines global culture.” Scott’s to shocked to be polite. It’s unheard of for someone not to know about pack dynamics and hierarchy.
“Yeah, well, just pretend I’m a century-old hermit with a bad temper and a long history of amnesia who’s been hiding out in the Canadian Rockies for a few decades. Can’t be too hard for you, Slim.”
“Um, oookay.” He’s a little thrown off; he’s never had to explain this to anyone before – it’s a given fact. It’s also a highly subjective subject and he has to rely on his schoolteacher mode to not stammer and babble his way through it. “Everyone has a primary gender and a secondary gender. The primary gender concerns whether a person is male or female. The secondary gender is more important, even if the name doesn’t suggest it. That one concerns one of three subsets – Alpha, Beta, Omega. We don’t know if it’s a leftover genetic holdover from more primitive times, or if it’s vestigial instincts left behind when humanity was more closely related to wolves or tigers.”
“Uh-huh.” Logan makes a noncommittal noise.
Scott shuffles, not nervously because he’s not nervous. “Going into conventional gender stereotypes, Alphas are generally the leaders of the pack, the ones in charge of decisions and such. Betas tend to be the foot-soldiers and working force. Omegas care for the young and oversee the next generation. Stereotypically, Alphas are just aggressive, possessive, and demanding; Betas are passive and unthreatening; Omegas are nothing more than simpering wombs.” Scott lets his disdain bleed through his voice.
“Personally, I think that’s a bunch of crap. People are whoever people want to be.” Logan sneers.
Scott has to bite his lip to stop a smile. “There’s also levels within the subsets. The higher one’s level, the more domineering the scent, at least for Alphas and Omegas. High-level Omegas have to deal with unwanted advances all the time. Alphas just get mean and territorial. Betas are different. The higher-levels are closer to Alphas, and the lower-levels are closer to Omegas.” He clears his throat, then continues. “The higher the level, the rarer they are to find. There’s about an even split between the numbers of the three genders, though.”
“And when you called me ‘the highest-grade asshole to ever grace the pack’? What did that mean?”
Scott has to look away from the other’s far-too inviting smirk. “You’re the highest-level Alpha to ever be in the school. The higher level you are, the harder it is to resist instincts. Everyone here wants to submit to you because of it, but nobody wants to because we’re not just our genders.”
There’s a long moment of uncomfortable silence before Logan breaks it with all the subtlety of Warren’s wings. “In the wild, it’s a lot different. I’m an Alpha there because I’m the biggest and baddest around.” He flashes a smile at Scott. “Humans get caught up in all this dumb pack stuff. Animals don’t have packs like that. They just know when to get the hell outta the way and when to treat a body with respect. People are complicated little fuckers, ain’t they?”
That drags an unwilling breath of laughter out of him. Logan catches it anyway and his eyes catch Scott’s for a second before Scot breaks it; eye contact is dangerous, especially with someone like Logan whose scent teeters on the edge between irritating and enthralling and is rapidly approaching rock bottom of one of those two (hint: it’s definitely not the first).
“What’s it like, to have your senses?” He blurts out the question before he knows it.
Logan glances at him a second, before turning back to watching the forest. For a second, Scott’s jealous of the array of shades of green he must be seeing; just because Scott’s evolved to pick out the same shades of red, doesn’t mean he doesn’t still miss color. “I dunno, really. Can’t tell what it’s like to not have it.”
When he senses that doesn’t answer the question, he sighs, picks apart a few blades of grass, and tries again. “I can tell that there’s a family of squirrels in an oak tree behind us about a hundred feet away. I can see a rabbit diggin’ out a warren about fifty feet over there.” He points West in a sloppy movement. “I can pick up a scent trail and track it down ‘cross-country. I can smell what a body’s thinkin’ and feelin’ from across the room when I want to. Now that I know, I guess Alphas smell bitter and cloying, kinda like the teenagers’ locker room after gym class mixed in with a healthy amount of sweat. Omegas smell sweet, too sweet, with sharper undertones, almost like oranges and vanilla, ‘cept not.”
He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly; Scott can’t help but wonder if he’s scenting him, and flagellates his brain for it. Bad brain, bad. “Betas, it varies. Sometimes clear like spring water, sometimes earthy like coffee or hazelnut. I ran into one once that smelled like canola oil, but I knew he was a Beta. Dunno how, but I always know.”
“Yeah, so do we. It’s something in the hindbrain that categorizes pack hierarchy.” Scott, carefully, very carefully, stems his impulse to ask what he smells like.
“Say, what’s up with the hierarchy? Is there, you know, behaviors and the like? Claiming, submission, the works?”
Scott’s breath catches at the word ‘claiming’ and hopes desperately that it doesn’t tell Logan anything. “There’s the Alpha at the head of a pack, but that’s just a title; anyone of any gender can be the Alpha. Here at the school, Charles is our Alpha, even though he’s a mid-level Omega. I’m his second, his Beta – don’t laugh, I know it’s redundant. In the X-Men, though, I’m the Alpha, the leader, and they’re directly under me, but still under Charles’ command. The students are last. We follow Charles in everything. He doesn’t ask for shows of loyalty and submission like some pack leaders do, but it’s still ingrained in our instincts to obey. Some upstart Alphas – gender, not the title – have a hard time following Charles or I, but I usually put them in their place; it’s up to me as Charles’ second to handle any threats towards his position.”
“And where do I fall in?” Did Logan get closer? It felt like he did.
“Well, since you’re so high-level, it’s hard for some of us to not follow you, even the other Alphas. But we’re all loyal enough to Charles to not want to form another pack with you. I would say that you’re a loner we’ve steadily been adopting into the pack, but your status isn’t confirmed yet. Most likely, you’ll be on the level of Storm and Jean once the pack settles down.”
“Hmm.” Scott can’t tell if the sound is disappointed, angry, or anything. “And like I asked earlier, what about claiming? I’ve heard about bonds and claiming, but not much.”
Scott can feel his heart trying to play professional jump rope, but the answers are tugged out of him anyway. “Uh, bonding. Ahem. Um, claiming happens through bites, generally on an area that can be seen by others. It’s supposed to happen only when two people decide to mate for life, but media’s made it almost romantic for claiming to happen before a relationship starts. It’s still not widely accepted, and it’s seen as improper and deviant. Bonding usually comes with the first claiming, and it’s when the biology of the two people change enough so that they only become … um, aroused by each other. It creates a permanent state of monogamy.” He carefully makes sure that he’s looking away from Logan and checks that his body is still under his control. Iron-clad control – adamantium-clad control – oh shit, that’s not good that his thoughts went that way.
Another silence starts up, and Scott hopes that he’s explained well enough. Packs and genders are complicated enough for him, and he’s been navigating them for his whole life. He can’t imagine what it must be like to be thrown into the middle of it and being expected to know what’s up and what’s down.
“I know you’re a Beta, but what level are you?” At that, Scott can’t fight the blush that steals over his face, chasing away the pale and filling it in like with markers. It’s not that it’s private, but, well, it’s Logan asking.
“I’m a low-level Beta. Almost an Omega, but I don’t get the heats.”
“Hmm. Thought I could smell it. Guess I can.” The blush deepens. “What about relationships? Between … genders?”
“Uh, well, Omegas are typically paired with Alphas, and levels call to levels. Of course, there are always exceptions and abnormalities, but it’s expected that Betas go with Betas and Alphas mate with Omegas. A high-level Alpha or Omega would be expected to find a high-level of the opposite gender.”
“What about primary genders?” Scott was finding it harder to breathe. Was there something in the air? Pollen, maybe? “That doesn’t matter as much. Since there’s a chance that even two Alphas can have biological kids, no one really cares about same-sex couples – uh, same-sex, both-gender couples. Um, we need better terminology. Er, I mean, two people with the same primary and secondary genders.” Babbling, Scott, real smooth and not at all suspicious.
“You one to go with expectations, Cyke?”
“Erm, what?” Scott’s mind races as he tries to make sense of that innocuous question that sends alarm bells dinging in his brain and synapses snapping.
“Ah, nothin’. Be seein’ you later, Scott.” Logan rises to his feet and slips away remarkably silently before Scott can blink in confusion.
He also leaves Scott trying not to think of the way his name sounded from a person who normally refuses to say it, and trying desperately to control the way his body responded to it.
Scott buries his face in his hands. “Fuck.” Morbidly, he wonders just how much of this he’ll be able to take before he snaps in two like a toothpick.