After the Awful Chapter 4

           Dinner smelled and looked amazing. In the middle of the table sat delectable chicken breasts, seasoned visually and topped with slices of lemon. In bowls surrounding them were green beans, mashed potatoes, and some golden rolls. Each table setting had a glass of milk and water before it. Waylon’s stomach clenched almost painfully.

           He was tempted to forgo all manners and judgement to pile everything on his plate and tuck it away. There seemed to be a part of him, that new, constant fearful part, that worried something would happen soon—a minute, an hour, tomorrow—and if it did he didn’t know when he’d be eating again. He tramped that down, though and let silence settle over the table.

           After a moment he started with the realization that Eddie, conservative, old-fashioned Eddie, was waiting for him to make their plates. He stood in a stuttering sort of manner and reached out to take the alpha’s plate. His hand was taken and held, however.

           “Sit, love.”

           Waylon did and looked to the older man’s face. His eyes were settled on Barbara, but there was, blessedly, a patience in them. Once she met them she gave a weak smile and stood, taking Eddie’s plate and loading it with food. When she made to set it in front of him he redirected it to rest in front of the omega instead.

           “My mate needs his energy.”

           Lesson seemingly learned, Barbara filled Eddie’s plate next, then her husband’s, and finally her own before taking her seat. There was that urge again to inhale everything placed in front of him but also a hesitation when reaching for his utensils. Nobody else had made a move for their own and their faces, Barbara’s, and Ron’s especially—with its bruising and judging eyes—unnerved him. There was pantomime there: an outward expression meant to be calming but smiles and looks that were stuck all wrong.

           “Don’t worry,” Edie told him. “Mrs. Davis made everything in front of me and I’ve made her take a little taste of it all.”

           He would, and it made sense. Waylon didn’t want to die choking on rat poison-flavored mashed potatoes. And maybe he’d be worried if it had been anyone else, but Barbara seemed too smart and timid for something that morbid. She’d hold out hope that she could resolve things with her kindness, just like Waylon did with his brains. Maybe her attribute would benefit her or maybe Eddie would see right through it.

           Maybe he’d end up seeing right through them both.

           “It looks good,” Waylon tried, voice coming out little more than a whisper. He turned to the cook who curled her lips at him.

           “Thank you.”

           There was a beat, a moment that hung not only heavy but awkward. Waylon looked to Eddie and saw the elderly couple do the same in his periphery. The alpha released the technician’s hand and reached for his knife and fork. And then Barbara spoke.

           “We normally say grace.”

           Waylon still possessed the sense and decency to be chagrinned. Eddie just laughed.

           “Why?”

           The woman regarded them. “We’re Christians.”

           “Why?” It was repeated with less mirth this time.

           “What do you mean ‘why?’” Ron demanded.

           “I mean…” Eddie’s fingers curled around his knife. “Why do you believe in something that isn’t real?”

           Waylon looked to the old man; his jaw was tense, clamped to keep back the bite of a retort. There was anger in his brow and exhaustion in his eyes. The omega could understand that and truthfully was a little surprised by his mate’s question. Eddie seemed obsessed with the idea of a family–a perfect, American family–and often that was associated with religion. Waylon had never felt that way himself, and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or unsettled by the similar opinion he and the ex-inmate shared.

           The knife pointed to Ron. “God wouldn’t let the things I’ve seen happen.”

           Well, Waylon agreed to a point, especially regarding the horror of the asylum. No god would’ve punished a man aiming for redemption, would he? Not the way Waylon was being punished.

           “There is no God,” the alpha decided. “The king of gods is a father, and his queen is the mother. The mother gives him children and cares for them, but he protects them all. He protects them from the world—he doesn’t let anything hurt his family or his babies. He doesn’t let anyone touch his babies.”

           A sheet of discomfort covered them, setting into every crevice of their uneasy silence. The technician could swear he felt the weight of the intoned word curling around the back of his neck.

           “So you’re a god?” Ron asked.

           “I’m a father,” Eddie said simply.

           Not yet, Waylon’s mind bit immediately, almost viciously. He knew Ron had thought the same.

           “I provide for my family—everything I do is for my mate. If there was a God why would you be tied to a chair? No, there is no God; there are only strong men.”

           “A strong man builds his life, he doesn’t steal it from someone else.”

           Eddie surged up but before he could move away from his seat both Waylon and Barbara took action: one physical and the other verbal. The omega wrapped both arms around his mate’s bicep and the old woman spoke:

           “We believe in God, and God believes in helping guests and those in need. No matter what you believe, we are Christians and we can’t turn you away.”

           The former patient regarded her coolly.

           “Waylon needs a safe place and our home is that. I can also help him get ready or motherhood.”

           He’d need a way to thank his ally later, but for now Waylon kept his eyes on the man in his grasp, silent but pleading.

           “You’ve had children?” the alpha questioned.

           “No, but I helped my sister with hers when they were babies. And I can cook and sew… no new mother is every really ready for the first baby.”

           Eddie finally looked down to his mate who hadn’t moved nor changed expression. They searched each other, silent and reading and Waylon hated that he could feel and hear the emotions and thoughts flowing between their shared look. Finally, the alpha gave in, slackening under his mate’s hold until he was released and could take his seat again.

           “Say your prayer, then.” He settled on being amused again and regarded Barbara closely as she folded her hands together.

           Waylon sat and watched as well, keeping his hands flat on the table and head upright in mimicry of his partner.

           “Lord, we thank you for the bounty we are about to receive. We also thank you for our guests. We ask that in this time of trial you give us strength to protect and understand one another. We hope that through this test we prove ourselves worthy of your love and guidance. Amen.”

           “Amen,” Ron echoed hollowly.

           Barbara gave her mate a tight smile and then chanced a look to her guests. Eddie was propped up on his elbow, cheek in hand, with a bemused smile reaching his eyes. It was clear he hadn’t believed her words, even if she had. Even so, he said nothing and turned his attention to cutting his meat. As though given permission, Waylon did the same.

           He tried to restrain his hunger, even when the first zest of lemon hit his tongue. Even when the natural flavor of a perfectly cooked chicken followed. He knew that it wasn’t polite as a guest to shovel an entire plate of food in his mouth, but mostly his saboteur was, of course, Eddie. The bigger man ate slowly, eyes only darting down to his plate when he went for another forkful. Otherwise, they flitted back and forth between his companions.

           Waylon would have to learn, and fast, what his limits were. He liked to be placated, that much was evident. He liked to be praised. But the question was what he expected of his mate. A mother, obviously—and Waylon didn’t dwell on that too long because he wanted to enjoy his meal—but also a ‘queen.’ Being an omega was enough to qualify the technician for that, regardless of outward genitalia, apparently. Would he have to fulfill this man’s fifties fantasy? A docile, serving wife? He smiled inwardly to himself—his old mate would’ve kicked his ass had he demanded something like that of her.

           Old mate? The smile fell, as did his fork right into his potatoes.

           The alpha’s hand shot out immediately, heavy on his shoulder. “Darling?”

           “I’m fine,” Waylon lied immediately. “Sorry.” He retrieved his fork and cleaned the handle with his napkin before setting them both aside to gulp down his glass of water. The hand on him didn’t leave, its owner unconvinced.

           “I’m fine,” he repeated once he could, meeting Eddie’s eye. “I was thinking too hard.” He turned his head to look at Barbara. “It’s really good.”

           “Thank you,” she said. “Would you like me to get you more water?”

           He shook his head since he still had a full glass of milk. The steadying touch fell away and he leant back against his chair so he wouldn’t follow it.

           “Are you two retired?” He asked to avoid lapsing back into his own thoughts. He hoped he could distract himself enough to forget the treacherous two words, to never think them again.

           “Yes,” Barbara answered for them.

           “What do you do all day?”

           “Oh, well, we both have our hobbies.” She pointedly took a big bite of food to give herself a moment and Waylon could kick himself. Ron was a hunter. Idiot, you’re trying to keep those guns hidden. “I like to take walks, Ron builds figurines, we’ll work on the computer or watch television, things like that.”

           “You have a computer.” His mind stopped.

           “Of course we have a computer,” Ron retorted.

           Eddie pointedly set his milk glass down harder than necessary and the old man became very invested in his food.

           Waylon didn’t care about his tone, though, he’d known plenty of older people who didn’t have computers or who hadn’t bothered to connect them to the internet. He hesitated to ask, though, whether theirs was one of the latter. If it was connected and he could get to it… He glanced around, trying to locate it or their router.

           “It’s in the den,” Barbara said, aiming for helpful.

           “Just the one computer?” Eddie asked, damning Waylon’s hope.

           “Just the one,” Ron said too quickly.

           The alpha smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He picked up his knife and looked to the point of it and then to Barbara. She was eating daintily, eyes on her husband. Even Waylon could tell they were lying. And then in a sudden movement the former inmate had snatched Ron’s wrist and pinned his hand flat to the table.

           The elder man hadn’t been given a knife nor a fork—his wife had been responsible for cutting his meat—so when he flailed about with his left hand and only came up with a spoon he didn’t bother to clutch it, knowing how futile brandishing it would be. He hissed and teetered on his chair, ankles bound to it, as his arm was stretched as far as it could be. Eddie rested the tip of the blade to one of his veins but did not push, yet. He simply looked to Barbara and waited.

           “…We have a laptop in our bedroom,” she reported in a quiet voice.

           “’Help us understand one another,’” Eddie mocked. “You should understand what lying to me means.”

           “She told you,” Waylon finally found his voice.

           “Only when threatened.”

           “They’re slow learners. They know now. I wasn’t the fastest learner, remember?” Waylon knew his luck with keeping the old couple from harm would give out one day, but he was determined it not be on the same day as their meeting. “Can we finish dinner? It’s really good… unless you like bloody mashed potatoes.”

           He didn’t know why he said it aloud. Morbid humor was usually lost on older generations, he knew. He supposed the important thing was that it wasn’t lost on Eddie, whether it be because he was a killer or the asylum, it didn’t matter. When you see as much gore and death as they had what else could you do but laugh at it or curl into a ball?

           As it were, Eddie was a laugher. The programmer couldn’t remember ever being more pleased about anything. He could place another check next to making the taller man laugh as a means to abate his anger.

           The knife was removed and Ron released simultaneously as the alpha straightened. His laughter was deep, almost from his belly, and he looked surprisingly human with laugh lines on his face.

           “I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite,” he even quipped.

           Waylon stared at him as though he’d grown a second head; watched him sit and shake his head to himself, still chuckling. There was a surge of something in the technician’s chest then that he resolutely would not label, though he could not deny it was a good feeling, welcome amongst all the confusion, fear, and anxiety to which he’d become accustomed.

           He forced his eyes away, though, suddenly feeling stubborn, turning to Barbara on his other side. She mouthed ‘thank you’ to him and even in this short time he could recognize the gratitude in her expression. He nodded and then looked to Ron. He expected the same sort of look in his weathered face, but was instead vexed to find steel in his eyes: the same given to Eddie.

           Only one ally, kind but truly a slow learner. Ron would end up killed trying to play the macho hero. Waylon redirected his gaze to his meal, frustrated and annoyed, though he refused to let it show. He was clearly trying to help them—so clear he’d expected Eddie to turn on him instead—and yet he was going to receive the same venom from the old beta? He was in a worse position than their captives—all they had to do was stop lying and play nice and Waylon could save them.

           “Eddie, can I make you a second plate?” Barbara asked.

           “Only after my Waylon has had his. I wasn’t lying when I said he needed his energy.”

           Waylon hadn’t even realized he’d sucked down the rest of his meal, but the white of his plate was staring up at him and his stomach wasn’t full so he passed it to her and dug back in when it was returned.

           Thankfully the remainder of the meal was spent in silence, spare the clinking of utensils and sipping at glasses. The omega leaned back when he was finished, full and content for the first time in what felt like years, though knew it was only days. Barbara rose and began to collect their plates and without a second thought Waylon rose to help her bring the remainder of the tableware to the sink.

           “I didn’t make a dessert,” she whispered to him. “I don’t really have anything other than cookies.”

           Putting even a crumb of food in his stomach would likely be enough to push him into discomfort so he shook his head and began rinsing things to put in their dishwasher. She turned to the table.

           “Would anyone like coffee and cookies?”

           “No,” Eddie said. He was retying the male beta’s hands behind his back. “I don’t think Ron needs either of those. I wouldn’t want you to stay up past your bedtime.”

           The older man’s jaw clenched and he wisely kept it that way. Another rule settled: no coffee at night. Nothing that could keep the couple up later than their intruders. They’d be lucky if he allowed them it in the morning; it would be a good way of keeping them groggy and slow throughout the day. Waylon finished loading the dishes and looked back at Eddie who stared at his prisoner but at the same time didn’t. He was thinking behind that piercing look. Planning, considering, judging, who was to know until he voiced it.

           Waylon wasn’t happy when he did.

           “Which room is the den?”

           The female beta glanced over at him and then nodded to a door under the stairway. “That one with the door closed.”

           “Would you go fetch that laptop for me?”

           “Of course,” she said, clearly unsure as she wiped her hands on a towel. With a sparing glance at Waylon she disappeared to the second floor.

           “What are you going to do with it?” the programmer asked.

           “Break it.”

           The disappointment was evident on his face, he knew that even before he saw Eddie’s eyebrows crinkle. He couldn’t find a way to conceal it.

           “What’s wrong, my darling?”

           He looked up at the larger man when he stepped close, torn. When his cheek was cupped—and would Eddie ever stop doing that?—he voiced his misery: “Do you remember what I did before you cau—found me?”

           His mate’s brow remained low in question as he sought the answer in the face before him. Waylon didn’t know if he’d remember, what he could remember, if he should remember. His luck would be better if he didn’t remember how the smaller man let him be hooked up to that machine. At the time, there had really been nothing he could’ve done to stop it. He had sent out his e-mails before the incident, knowing he wanted to stop the inhumane and torturous things he had seen, and then he’d been caught. But would that be explanation enough now?

           “You,” Eddie said, “…were sitting at a computer?”

           The omega’s breath caught. “Do you remember what I was doing?”

           And then it was released in one shuddering breath when Eddie shook his head. “I only remember your beautiful eyes and your face behind a computer. What were you doing?”

           “…I was working on a program,” Waylon said carefully. “I made programs for computers. I really like them.”

           His response wasn’t questioned nor dwelt upon further. The older man just laughed and stroked a thumb along his cheekbone. “And so the sad face! Oh, Waylon.” Lips touched his forehead. “I can’t let them stay. It’s just like you said: what if they try to call or get ahold of someone?”

           Before he could reply Barbara made her way to them, holding the laptop out as if it were an offering. Eddie took it in one of his big hands and with the other motioned her on to the den.

           Inside it was exactly what he might have expected the den of an older couple to be. Like the rest of the house the walls were wooden but that rich brown color comprised the bookcase, the desk, and even the leather seat was a deep brown. With the lights flicked on everything took on a golden sheen and Waylon couldn’t help but think again that a lot of money went into this home.

           The computer atop the desk was average—another thing he expected of an elderly couple. They used it for their basics like e-mail or shopping online and it was enough to get the job done. Nothing that was going to be performing any complex programs or capable of running any worthwhile games. The laptop in Eddie’s hand, however, seemed to be a new purchase, or at least newer. It was a model he could use.

           His eyes fell to the router, standing tall with its blinking green lights beside the monitor. He pointed to it. “That’s for the internet.” Though Eddie most likely already knew this. “Take the cord from the back and then the computers are useless.”

           Eddie looked to him with a strange expression, put upon and patience run down. “…Which would you like?”

           “Really?”

           The alpha gave a deep sigh, as if he wasn’t too sure about the decision either. “When you grow larger it will be harder to walk and if this will keep you happy during those final months I can’t deny you.”

           Waylon couldn’t stop his grin. “Thank you.”

           “When I ask, you let me see what you’re doing. When you want to go online you ask and I will put it on. You will go online only when you’re sitting where I can see everything you’re doing.”

           What could he do but nod?

           “You always keep it with you or hidden. I don’t want them touching it. If they do I’ll break it into pieces.”

           He nodded again and stepped toward him, motioning to the laptop. When it was deposited into his hands he curled it up in his arms and against his chest, holding it there and trying not to let his burgeoning hope show on his face. Eddie seemed amused at his but then his face fell into his distant, chilling, expectant look. Waylon did his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed the shift, to pretend that he had been caught up in the moment, before he drew the former patient down by his sleeve to kiss his chin.

           “Thank you, Eddie.”

           “A real thank you.”

           Although he could feel the gray of Barbara’s eyes on his back he still rose on his toes dutifully and pressed his lips to the ones above. He let them be claimed, he let the kiss get too deep for a stranger’s eyes, and when it ended he remained close until the larger body stepped away first.

           The power cord for the router was plucked away then, those green lights disappearing immediately. Eddie curled it slowly around the meat of his hand, considering his mate and his gift. Then he crouched down, lifted the PC up, freed it from all its cords, and tucked it safely beneath his armpit before he strode from the room.

           The beta and omega followed obediently.

           Waylon stopped at the couch, glancing at Ron who craned his neck to follow Eddie go to the fireplace. Barbara moved to his side and then they all watched the muscular man whip the machine into the empty, stone fireplace as if it had been as simple as throwing a baseball.

           There was a sad crunch and Waylon didn’t have to find a new position to know how badly dented it was. His partner was unsatisfied, however, and yanked the sad, deformed rectangle back out so that he could whip it back in. He did it again and again, metal and plastic skittering and hissing against the stones in larger and larger pieces upon each successive throw.

           Waylon sat carefully on the couch, silent and unmoving while the mess was cleaned. Silent and unmoving when Eddie untied Ron’s ankles from the chair and shoved him to the cushy lazy boy nearby. Silent and unmoving when Barbara and Eddie followed. Silent but moving when his alpha sat beside him and lifted his arm. He moved right into his place.



           While Waylon had slept the day away, Eddie had contemplated and fixed their problems. Well, the problem of their hosts anyway. He’d taken a visit to the garage with Barbara in tow, apparently, and had rigged up a simple way of telling when the elder pair moved from their rooms at night. He had separated them into different bedrooms; the wife in the master and Ron in a guestroom. Above each door he had hammered a nail and hung an alarm. In the case of the guest room it was a bell and for master bedroom a set of chimes.

           He also made it so that the knives and gun disappeared so entirely that Waylon wasn’t even sure where he hid them. With these disappearances followed the hiding of the router cord, the tools he’d brought in that he apparently decided were going to be useful in the near future, and anything else that could be used against them.

           In the back of his mind the omega realized that some of those items would be stashed in what was meant to become their bedroom. The router cord and the weapons, though… those were hidden somewhere else. Eddie didn’t suspect that Waylon would use the latter on him, and he was right, goddamn him. No, he knew the router cord was much more valuable, and dangerous, in Waylon’s possession.

           The bell rang softly and then a minute or two later so did the chimes, their harmonious sounds drifting down the hall and under the opening of the door to reach Waylon in bed. He turned on his side, knowing what this mean, curling in upon himself and taking up as little space as possible on the far end of the mattress.

           His mate joined him then, leaving their door wide open so those noise-makers would act as their alarms if necessary. He heard the shuffling of clothing, the distinct sound it made pooling onto a bedroom floor, and the parting of blanket and sheets from one another. The air wasn’t so cold that it bothered him and even if it had the alpha’s heat immediately warmed the air trapped under the blanket.

           Waylon kept his back to him. During his heat the bigger man had never gone far, in fact, he seemed loathe to be doing anything but touching his omega back then. But that was then, when the fever and ache controlled mind and body. And now he was dread and denial.

           Denial in the way his stomach grew light when a muscular arm snaked around him and tugged him close, denial in the way he enjoyed and welcomed the warmth and firmness against his back, denial in the way his head swam when that dominant scent overwhelmed him. Denial because it was the hormones.

           Hormones that made him pliant when gently turned onto his back and then further, so that they were face to face. Hormones that made him stare into the blue eyes with the thought that they weren’t so bad. Hormones that didn’t let him pull away. Hormones that caused his heart to expand when Eddie’s hand drifted across his body, thumb dragging along a nipple and then down the side of his ribs all the way down to his hips. Hormones that made it expand even further and then beat irregularly when he had shied from the touch, voicing his soreness, to receive a soft, soothing rumble in return and no further lewd movement from the hand. Hormones that made him enjoy the way it traced the skin of his back instead.

           Hormones that made him tuck his head beneath Eddie’s chin, that made him press his face to the thick neck, to inhale his pheromones where they were strongest. Hormones that made that enough to lull him to sleep once more.