Chapter Text
Dream guy— GO!
Uhhh…. Um…. Er…
Prem doesn’t know, he’s never had a sexy dream before. He doesn’t know what to do. Damnit, where is the rose toy when he needs one— He’s a young, single omega, who likes long walks on the beach, cooking complex dishes, annoying his little sister…and that’s about it. He helps his grandma run their family restaurant, it’s not like he can sit around and conjure up his dream guy.
Well, until now, that is.
What does a dream alpha have that Prem doesn’t already hate in the average alpha?
Hmm, maybe someone…stubborn, just like him, so they can hold grudges together. Oh! Someone who likes to eat, but that’s a given. Prem needs someone who can eat a mountain with all the dishes he creates in a day. What else… Someone friendly, and funny, and honest with their feelings? Oh jeez, he’s making someone unattainable. No alpha is this perfect.
Perhaps sprinkle in a little bit of annoyance into this imaginary alpha’s personality.
Okay, where are we at now…
What does he look like?
Tall.
Prem likes tall. Strong, but not too strong, more or less firm, someone who isn’t a string bean twink like he is. What else is sexy? Oh, glasses! A guy with a pair of glasses and hair that hangs in his eyes… Now Prem is getting that hot and bothered feeling in his panties.
Dream guy is a ten out of ten— Hence the name, Ten.
Prem imagines Ten picking him up from his classes, shirt unbuttoned and tie loosened, he’s starving for food. Absolutely ravenous.
Prem stares up at him and offers him a hearty dish of curry he made in class, each carrot cut into painstakingly perfect hearts.
Ten-out-of-Ten smiles: “That’s my chef~”
Prem feels slick drip from his hole, a terrible, instinctive crazy person smile stretching across his cheeks. “Isn’t P’Ten forgetting something~” Prem whispers, leaning in and presenting his cheek.
Ten goes the extra mile, he leans forward and smooches a chaste, but very intimate, kiss to Prem’s lips. “My favorite dish,” Ten says sexily… Oh my god, Prem is about to bust a fucking nut.
“HIA!”
Shooting awake, Prem finds himself in bed, hands gripping his sheets as the blur of his sister goes shooting past him. In her tattling voice she yells, “Grandma!! Hia is stinking up our room with omega pheromones! Tell him he’s being gross!”
An elderly voice responds, “Honey, it’s natural, he can’t help it.”
His sister: “But Grandma!!”
Prem buries his face in his hands. Today is going to be a long day.
—
Prem feels like shit this morning.
One singular attempt to have a sexy dream ends up with his pheromones being all over the place and not even a cold shower can decrease his hyperactive libido. It’s like he’s going into heat, but he shouldn’t be! Prem is the type of omega that tracks his heat, he knows when they come so he can tell his professor when he’ll be out of the kitchen… Not that first year and second year he felt bad about skipping class to writhe and whine in his bed, considering they weren’t doing anything productive anyway.
That being said, Prem knows without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that his heat should be two Sundays from now and end on that same week’s Tuesday, normally at night. Two days of class time he’ll need to make up.
Prem has never had a sporadic heat in his life, one that changed dates or has been prolonged for any amount of time. He’s a healthy omega, this doesn’t happen to him!
“Ew, you smell like an omega,” Dynamite, a passive-alpha, decides to say the very minute they make contact in the theory classroom. They usually have classes in the morning, a brainstorm in the middle of their break, and in the afternoon they put their ideas into action.
Prem sits down in his seat, pulling out his notebook and putting on a facade of nothing being wrong. “I’ve had a hectic morning,” he tries to say simply, but Samsi, a beta, pushes it to a higher degree.
“Did you shower?” he asks, blinking innocently behind his glasses. Prem wants to wrap his hands around his friend's neck and choke him out.
“Of course I showered!” Prem snaps his teeth, the click being a little too loud and too aggressive. Maybe his hormones are fucking crazy.
“Okay, okay!” Samsi puts out his hands and giggles to himself when he makes eye contact with Dynamite. “So spicy,” they say in unison, an annoyingly sweet singsong. Prem crosses his arms and sinks down in his chair, hating that he smells so obviously.
“Anyways!” Dynamite shifts the conversation in a one-eighty. “I started seeing someone… Just to let you guys know.” He smiles one of his classic shit-eating grins, tapping his hand on Prem’s desk, like he’s physically dropping off this information as if it’s an important document he’s leaving on his boss’s desk.
Prem wrinkles his nose. “As in seeing someone or like hallucinations?”
Dynamite looks to Samsi, searching for help, Samsi adds: “Second that question.”
“Dating, duh!” Dynamite shakes his head, as if they are the ones in the wrong.
“It’s a genuine question,” Prem grumbles. “When you’re bored, you like to develop obsessive, unreciprocated crushes… This happens every other month too, Dy.”
“But this is different!” Dynamite stresses. “I had dreams about this guy!”
“Dreams?” Prem quirks his eyebrow. “What do dreams have to do with crushes, that makes no sense.”
“What are you talking about?” Samsi knocks their shoulders together, it naturally sends Prem flying in the other direction, his shoulder aching with a passion.
Prem glares, rubbing his now sore arm. “I’m serious, you guys just sound stupid.”
“Do you know anything about your destined partner?” Dynamite shouts a little too loud. “There is this old legend that says your future partner will visit you in your dreams and if you see them again in the world of the living, you should pursue them because nine times out of ten, they’ve dreamt of you, too!”
A pause, Prem goes for the kill. “So technically you’ve been hallucinating.”
“I’m not hallucinating!” Dynamite screams. They all laugh. Well, Prem laughs, because it’s the only way he can hide the wash of dread that consumes him. He doesn’t believe in superstitions, much less anything that has ‘legend says’ tacked to the beginning of it, but he can’t help thinking about Ten-Out-Of-Ten. The perfect alpha he conjured up and the reason for his pheromones to be jumping for joy. It can’t be true, Prem can’t have dreamt of his future alpha… That’s just absurd!
Squeezing his hands into tight fists, Prem holds himself in his seat, not allowing his emotions to take over.
Well, he tries, until there is an obnoxious wave of giggles and snorts that waft into the room. Boon, the leader of 3B, chortles to himself, “I smell a horny omega, could it be…Lil Prem?”
Prem shoots up, his body rocketing him to his feet, whole body stiff and cheeks so red he feels as if he might explode. “How dare you!” he snarls. It’s one thing to remark on an omega’s scent, it’s another thing to call him a ‘horny little omega’! Who the hell does Boon think he is? And it doesn’t help that his alpha cronies are all laughing loudly, mocking Prem, too. “Stop!” he cries, tears hot in his eyes.
“Prem.” A stern voice calls over the out of control classroom. “Can I see you outside?” Prem’s professor asks in his no-nonsense tone. Prem really wants to cry now, his stomach dropping in a wave of dread. He shuffles outside, lower lip quivering with an excuse that never comes to fruition. “Prem,” he says in a quiet voice, “there is a strict rule about scents in my kitchen.”
“But professor—” Prem cries. He’s not in heat! He isn’t!
“I’m sorry, Prem, I have to ask you to go home for the day. This will be marked as an unexcused absence.”
Chef turns and heads into the classroom, leaving Prem standing there with his heart absolutely broken. Hot tears stream down his cheeks; sadness, embarrassment, outrage, all flooding through his system, yet he settles succinctly on anger.
Anger at his stupid future alpha, the one he dreamed about who threw his hormones for a loop. He hates that alpha, he hates him so much. If that alpha ever crosses his path, Prem will kick him in the shin so hard he’ll never stand straight again.
This is Ten-Out-Of-Ten’s fault.
All his damn fault.
—
Across the campus, a bespectacled alpha with a rumbling belly and a chip on his shoulder is suddenly hit with a wave of emotions. Usually he likes to take things slow, conserving his energy, but it’s like this sadness and anger and uneasiness become a brick wall that smacks him down to his knees.
“Ten? Are you okay? Why are you crying?”
The alpha waves away his friend. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I need to study.” Wiping away his tears, Ten goes back to looking at his notes… Or as best as he can look with fat, watery tears blocking his vision. Why is he crying? Is he really that hungry.
At a loss for words, Fire hesitantly asks, “Do you want chips? I have change for the vending machine.” He pulls out a little pouch, pointing to the vending machine stocked full of yummy snacks. Yummy… yummy snacks.
His belly rumbles, but Ten touches his stomach, shushing it. “I’m okay, I’m not hungry.”
Fire: “You sure?”
Ten feels suddenly very angry. He swallows it, squeezing his fist tight enough his knuckles turn white. “I’m fine.”
During his break, he’ll just dream of his future omega making him a big, Scooby-Doo style sandwich. He’ll be fine.