4. Lemon & Honey

FOUR

LEMON coffee cup in one hand, manila envelope in the other. He wore a crisp navy blue shirt and black tie, his hair pulled back into that sexy fucking topknot. Just how long had he been standing there?

“Yes?” they said in unison.

Cocking a brow, Lucas levelled a finger at Oliver. “I meant that one.”

Matteus prickled in the seat next to him. Despite being an omega, he was still fiercely protective, and as Oliver went to stand, Matteus’ hand close over his knee. Oliver gave his brother a look that said ‘ stop being fucking weird, ’ before Matteus sighed and released him.

Oliver followed Lucas all the way down a long corridor, across the canteen and through a set of double doors. The stench of cannabis hit them, and Oliver had to cover his nose to stop himself from sneezing. The alpha led them to a little office at the back of the police station, one that was usually reserved for sorting and categorising seized drugs.

“Sorry about the smell,” Lucas said, holding the door open. “I wanted to speak somewhere private.”

Oliver nodded, swallowing back a smirk as he watched Lucas trying to fold himself into a little plastic chair. Slapping the envelope on the desk, the alpha drew out a thin stack of paperwork.

It was as though the walls were closing in around him, as there—in black and white—was a photograph of Oliver looking very young, in uniform, with the word ‘SIGMA’ printed in bold letters beneath it. He stared at it for a moment. God, he’d been so na?ve back then.

“Reed,” Lucas said, snapping him back to the present. “Why didn’t you tell me you looked so cute in uniform?”

Oliver practically choked on his own spit at the comment, and he had to look up at the alpha’s face to check he heard him right. He had, because there sat Lucas with that same teasing grin curling his impossibly full lips. Not angry, not disappointed, just… smiling.

“I…oh well…you know.”

Flipping the front page, he turned to the section titled ‘Specialisations and Qualifications.’

“It says here you’re level five qualified in interviewing, case progression, negotiation, and liaison. Is that right?”

“Y-Yes. That’s right.”

The alpha nodded and tapped the desk with his knuckles. “Tell me, Reed. Why hasn’t the murder squad or counter terrorism snapped you up?”

“P-Pardon?”

“Well, according to your profile, you’re wildly over-qualified to work in child protection.”

Oliver huffed, irritation prickling the back of his neck. “Why do you think?” He said, reaching across the desk to turn the papers back to the front page. His finger stabbed at the word ‘SIGMA’ as he sat back down. Lucas looked at the word, then back up at Oliver, then down at the word again. Before speaking, he let out a long breath and reached across the table to cover Oliver’s hand. Oliver stared at it for a moment, mouth twitching at the unexpected touch.

Then his breath began shaking as he dragged his eyes up Lucas’ forearm, noticing he’d rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, revealing a South American style jaguar cat tattoo inked across his skin.

“Brazil?” Oliver squeaked.

“Yeah,” Lucas replied, a look of surprise crossing his face, “My pai’s Brazilian, my dad’s from Scunthorpe. We lived there until I was thirteen.”

“Brazil or Scunthorpe?”

Lucas laughed and removed his hand. “Brazil. Jesus Reed, I’d never admit to living in Scunthorpe.” Now Oliver was laughing too, the blanket of dread slowly falling away. His laughter quickly descended into a fit of coughing.

“S-Sorry, f-flu,” he said, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow.

“I can see that,” Lucas replied, reaching into his bag and handing him a bottle of water. “But could you please answer my question before you fall into a lemon and paracetamol-induced coma?”

“So—sympathetic—aren’t you—DS White,” he said between coughs.

“Would you prefer I rub your tummy and put you to bed?”

Yes. Yes, he would have preferred that.

Swallowing, Oliver tilted his head back and tried to get a grip of the coughing fit. “Jesus Christ. I think I’m dying,” he wheezed, head tipping forward again. When the world righted itself, he came face to face with the alpha staring at his exposed throat, eyes blazing and lip curled back over his canines. Heat spread up Oliver’s legs, the air in the little office suddenly becoming unbearably close.

“I…you…but I’m?—”

“A sigma,” Lucas growled, tugging at his collar.

“I-Is that not a problem for you?” Oliver said, rising from his seat.

“Not in the slightest.”

Lucas also rose, as though preparing to give chase.

“I have a really shitty attitude.”

The alpha dropped his head. “I like your shitty attitude.”

Oliver covered his mouth. “You?—”

“Briefings in thirty minutes.”

“Right.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“See you in thirty minutes.”