Chapter Text
The earth is one big dusty storybook that sits on the highest shelf, just waiting eagerly to be picked up and have someone crack the spine open, to finally delve into the untouched pages.
It starts at the top layer: the cover.
Digging and removing debris from the surface methodically until you find something more than just your standard soil and rocks. It’s a laborious, and sometimes thankless process, but if you keep going deeper into the ground, you’ll get to the bulk of the information.
There you can find the real plot. Those pieces hold the real story of the world— they are the real story.
Artifacts, bones, fossils.
These lost things trapped in the ground are eventually released by careful hands and brought back to the surface where someone knowledgeable can study them, measure them, analyze them, and figure out exactly what they mean to us in the present.
There was a time (their own time), when they were just trinkets. Useless and commonplace, nothing extraordinary or unusual within the context of their own history.
Ordinary items from the past become treasures to the future though, their value determined only by the ones who find them outside of their time and see their truth for what's left behind and what they can tell us.
They’re cataloged and preserved and displayed so that their stories can be told again and again.
Some may believe those scholars are the storytellers themselves with the way they translate raw information into meaning, but it’s the callused hands in the ground that get to touch history and know its worth even as it’s being unearthed. With their knees pressed into the dirt and their hearts pumping adrenaline throughout their bodies, they are the ones who search and dig and anticipate what they might find beneath the surface.
They happily sift through the soil and minerals, hands stained by the soft red clay of the earth, in the hopes that today will be the day they find a new tale of the past to share with the here and now.
That’s what Steve Harrington does.
Or, at least, that’s what Steve is trying to establish for himself. He’s still in the process of proving himself as an archeologist who’s worthy of actual decent funding and a real title, still working underneath an expert partner who has been doing this for much longer than him.
Robin’s already paid her dues in this field though. She’s more in the scouting and documenting stage of her career now, but happy to let an omega in the early years of his research tag along and get more experience as her assistant.
Some beginners hate this stage of their career and are eager to shed their cocoon and soar with fresh wings, but Steve takes it all in stride. He loves getting to work with Robin, someone he respects and loves in equal parts.
It doesn’t hurt that the two of them are the best of friends.
They’d met when Steve was just finishing his undergrad program and she came to lecture at one of his courses about a recent dig she’d led. A spontaneous exchange of email addresses that day had resulted in an ongoing half-decade friendship and eventually a work relationship as well when Robin asked him to accompany her on a year long excavation of untouched Grecian ruins as soon as he obtained his doctorate.
After eleven months of finding next to nothing of significance, they’re at the end of their ropes.
Supposedly, there’s a coveted artifact that’s been lost for quite a while that’s been rumored to add cultural context to the history of the new area they’ve arrived in. It might even lend explanation to some of the undecipherable engravings that were found in nearby ruins.
Robin and Steve had poured over the accumulated info sent to them before arriving and determined that they were missing something big. Likely a treasure tied to a scandalous romantic tryst, if the translations could be trusted.
If there’s one thing Steve has learned, it’s that the rich people who write the checks for their funding love anecdotal flashy pieces of history that attract attention.
While none of the texts they’d studied could say for sure what the artifact was exactly, the discovery of an object as ancient as this one would guarantee Robin her research funding for the next decade (as well as help to get Steve’s own name established enough to bear some weight amongst their fellow archaeologists).
So, as they prepare to join an already in-progress dig, the importance of this work is not lost on Steve. He always enjoys getting down into the dirt, but this time it’s especially crucial to both their careers.
They can’t leave empty handed.
“Listen, Stevie, you know how much I appreciate you, right? Like, I know that I tell you all the time that you’re the best assistant I could ever have and I’m endlessly grateful for our friendship, but I want you to hear it again because I really mean it and I feel like you’re gonna need a reminder,” Robin blurts out suddenly.
They’re almost at the dig site, so close that Steve can actually see someone waving at them excitedly from near the roped off entrance.
Which makes him question why Robin’s declaration sounds so very out of place. They’re naturally both a bit stressed, but it’s almost like she’s nervous about something other than their funding predicament.
An insane thought considering she’s normally only comfortable in situations where she’s an expert, such as at a dig site. Take the girl to a packed bar full of pretty women and she’s a total shit show, but never on the job. Never when she’s in her element and in control.
“What’s up, Robs?”
He shoots her a concerned glance, trying not to make a big deal out of this in case he’s mistaken.
She stops completely though, leaving him to copy the action and wait. Without her credentials and introduction, Steve wouldn’t even be permitted to proceed onward and join the dig.
“So— so the thing is— uh, well… you know how I used to have that on-again, off-again super hot girlfriend who made me lose my entire mind and also maybe— uh, most of my research funding because she was a distraction and stole one of my discoveries out from under me and took credit for it back in Cairo?” Robin manages all of this in one breath, but the last few words come out as more of a squeak than recognizable words.
Steve gets the gist of it though.
He’s vaguely familiar with the events that happened a few years before Steve became Robin’s assistant. As he recalls, the whole thing devastated her and is a large contributing factor to her dead love life. A traitorous ex can do that to a person.
Another reason he knows love isn’t worth the hassle.
Not that he can really judge her though. Steve hasn’t dated anyone before.
Perhaps it’s his high standards and need for compatibility, having already found his platonic soulmate in Robin. Could even be his devout commitment to his academics (and now his career) that took up too much time and attention. His off-putting scent of pure dirt doesn’t exactly entice alphas either (he knows because they’ve told him so).
Or just maybe it’s the gaping hole inside of him that’s existed as long as he can remember. Its presence has ensured that not a single person has ever given Steve butterflies or even interested him enough to want a first date, let alone a second, or third.
There’s something missing from all of them— the very same thing that’s missing from him. He just hasn’t found a name for it yet.
So call him picky, but Steve’s not concerned with being in a relationship when he has other things to occupy his mind. He is fascinated by human relationships, to be clear. Connections between individuals and their cultures, the flow of life and stories from the past to the present.
All interesting from an outside perspective.
Steve’s not a heartless monster though. He understands that Robin’s ex fucked her up pretty good and that it’s had a lasting impact on his best friend.
Which means they both hate Chrissy.
“Sure, you told me she was a menace with perfect legs and killer tits, but you swore you’d never so much as give her the time of day ever again so long as you lived,” he recalls. “Or something like that, anyway.”
Robin winces at the bluntness of his statement.
“Maybe I was being dramatic.”
He blinks.
“She broke your heart and tried to ruin your career. I think you were justified.”
She looks far too guilty for him to believe that she’s going to say something reassuring about staying away from her ex.
“Right... Well, I’m about to break that oath for entirely professional reasons and I need you not to judge me, okay? I have no intention of letting Chrissy manipulate me like that again, but apparently we’re sharing a dig site and I’m not very good at giving her the cold shoulder when she bats her big blue eyes at me,” Robin whispers hurriedly, her own eyes locked straight ahead now and even wider than usual.
Steve looks back in that direction, startled to see a short strawberry blonde woman approaching them at a quick pace and still waving frantically like there’s a chance they haven’t seen her yet.
“Oh, shit.”
It’s not hard for him to guess the identity of the woman, considering Steve has to hear about “the stupidly gorgeous little goddess of an omega who broke my fucking heart” every time Robin gets drunk off her ass and wants to rehash things to him.
“Robin! Oh my goodness, Birdie baby, I had no clue you would be here too! How are you? It’s been forever!” Chrissy giggles sweetly, slowly pulling off a pair of pristine baby pink work gloves and tucking them into her khaki shirt pocket in a way that feels sexual somehow.
Even putting aside her blatant flirting, she is admittedly very pretty and charming. Steve feels for his best friend immensely. This omega is a targeted weapon that Robin is ill-prepared for and there’s not much he can do about it, aside from keeping her head in the right place.
As much as he feels like an intruder here, it’s his job as her best friend to intervene.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Cunningham. I’m Dr. Steven Harrington, Dr. Buckley’s assistant,” he interrupts bluntly, holding out his free hand between the two women and getting the other omega’s attention immediately.
She blinks at him for a moment before her smile changes from bright to more calculated and forced. It’s hard to tell if she wants to claw his eyes out or simply smother his face into the hard ground beneath them.
Still, she shakes his hand politely and her grip is appropriately firm, if a little tight.
“Charmed, Steven. I’m surprised Robbie has talked about me. I didn’t think she and I were on good terms these days,” Chrissy admits with another little giggle.
He sneaks a glance at Robin, unsure what he’s supposed to say at this point. Confessing that his partner regularly waxes over ‘the one who got away after stabbing her in the back’ doesn’t seem helpful to the situation. Still, he has to do something.
Robin is staring right at the ground, pointedly avoiding both their stares.
Steve makes a decision.
“Oh, no. I’m terribly sorry about the confusion. I didn’t actually know you two were well acquainted. I’ve just read about some of your work— I think it was a golden scarab necklace in Cairo a few years back. Fascinating stuff, really. You said that you found it without any prior markings to indicate its location? What a miraculous find that must have been for you,” he spits out with as much venom as can be hidden in a backhanded compliment.
They both know that the necklace was Robin’s find and that Chrissy was more than happy to slap her name on it and take the credit. The fact that Robin hadn’t pursued the issue further and reported her for theft was pure mercy.
So he’s fully expecting her to return with her own nasty remark for the low blow, but instead she looks like he struck her clear across the face.
It would almost be enough for Steve to feel bad if he didn’t know exactly how much this particular wolf in sheep’s clothing had destroyed his best friend’s heart. She can kick rocks for all he cares.
Robin deserves only the best.
“That was… that was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then,” she whispers. Her eyes are glassy, like she might actually cry. No matter how much she looks at Robin though, the alpha doesn’t look up at her. “If you two will excuse me, I’ve got some work to do. Robin, I’d love to catch up while you’re in town and maybe clear the air a little. I’m staying at the local hotel if you— if you change your mind. Room 116.”
Chrissy doesn’t wait for a response, moving past them to continue back towards town. There’s not much in terms of transport from the main road to this part of the plains, but the walk by foot isn’t bad either.
Steve has walked miles each way with arms full of heavy equipment to get to a dig site before. Ten minutes is nothing.
“Robs?”
His partner snaps to attention, her smile a bit unsteady, but still present despite her clear pain. She’s always been strong that way, smiling through the storms. It’s something Steve truly admires about her.
“I’m good. Thanks, Stevie. For— uh, yeah, for all of that. Now, why don’t we go get set up. If she’s done for the day, then we should have the place to ourselves. They don’t usually let more than a couple groups excavate at once.”
“Here’s hoping.”
He follows her lead, continuing on the last stretch until they find themselves at the entrance to the roped off area. It’s been completely gridded already, sectioned into smaller areas in order to track the dig’s progress and assist with the documentation of any discoveries.
And either Robin has miscalculated their odds of having the site to themselves or the man crouched in the dirt with his back to them is a figment of both their imaginations, a vision produced entirely from heatstroke and dehydration.
They’re well rested and stocked up on water, so Steve’s inclined to think he’s unfortunately very real.
Robin drops her heavy sack of tools to the ground with no semblance of grace, clearly tired of carrying them on her back. Even after years in this field, she’s kind of a wimp about exercise of any sort. Any time Steve suggests they workout, she whines so loudly that he gives up and goes by himself.
The clank of metal on metal inside her bag is loud enough to alert the stranger to their presence though.
He throws a casual glance over his shoulder, as if only to make sure he’s not about to be stabbed to death by a criminal, but then he freezes entirely. The man’s expression is one of pure shock, like he’s the one seeing things. And then it turns into an unbridled expression of happiness as he stares at Steve, evidently pleased by their arrival.
It’s unnerving. Steve almost asks him if he’s been out in the sun too long.
“Steve?”
Steve does not know this guy.
He’s never seen him before in his entire life as far as he can tell at a glance. Without a doubt, he’s sure he’d remember someone like this.
Long curly hair is piled haphazardly into a lopsided bun on his head, unsecured strands hanging out in random spots and sand dusted throughout from the rough terrain around them, making it appear almost gray.
Steve’s own hair is tucked under an ugly hat that keeps the sand out. It may smoosh his ‘do, but it prevents UV damage and keeps it cleaner.
Unlike Robin and Steve’s protective (and relatively conservative) outfits, this man’s wearing a torn and faded muscle tee that shows off numerous tattoos of various styles. Steve’s pretty sure he can spot at least a Grecian-esque vase, a bat-like creature, and a framed portrait of a waterfall on one arm alone.
There’s absolutely no cohesiveness to the mish-mash of subjects for his bodily artwork whatsoever. Baffling, to say the least. The guy doesn’t seem to have much of an eye for style.
Amongst everything else that makes him appear more like some unqualified delinquent picking up trash on the side of the road than an educated professional, his headphones are plugged into only one ear with the other end frayed off and damaged beyond any hope of repair.
Steve briefly wonders why he wouldn’t just throw them away and buy a new pair.
Still, he looks nothing like the other straight-laced professionals who frequent Steve’s field of study. Nothing about him screams ‘archeologist,’ but the way he’s knee deep in the earth with a trowel in hand and a heavy tome on the ground next to him strongly suggests otherwise.
“Do we know each other?” Steve asks, despite his brain being sure of the answer already.
The man’s bright smile visibly wanes. He’s not sure why it makes him feel bad when Steve couldn’t have actually done anything to cause it, but he does.
Maybe it was his tone. Robin’s always telling him to be friendlier to strangers.
“No— uh, sorry. I guess not. That’s my bad. You just… you looked really familiar. Like someone I knew a long time ago. Y’know, in another lifetime or something,” he explains in a rush, removing his gloves and standing to greet them properly. After hastily wiping his hands on his ripped jeans, he offers one to Steve. It’s still covered in dirt. “I’m Dr. Edward Munson, but ‘Eddie’ is good enough for me. I work alongside Chrissy— er, I mean Dr. Cunningham.”
Ah. Well, that explains a lot actually.
Against his better judgment, Steve shakes Eddie’s hand.
It’s warm and a little sweaty from being stuffed inside heavy duty work gloves. He attempts to keep the touch brief, not wanting to be so close to this man for longer than necessary. Something about him is making Steve feel completely off kilter.
Despite his confidence on the subject, the nagging feeling that they have met before is pulling at the back of his head in the same spot his migraines tend to hit when the weather is particularly rainy outside. It’s unpleasant and Steve takes a deep and focused breath, trying to push the pressure down before it can get worse and he has to take medication.
All that seems to accomplish is giving him a mouthful of Eddie’s scent though.
Even being an omega, Steve’s never been a natural at figuring out designations from scent alone. Stereotyping isn’t always correct anyway since he knows half a dozen alphas with floral scents and at least twice that in omegas with scents like spices or metal.
But just like he knows Eddie is familiar to him in his unfamiliarity, Steve also knows that Eddie is an alpha. Knows it like he knows the back of his hand and like he knows Robin’s list of favorite movies off the top of his head. It’s ingrained into his mind, but more importantly— his heart.
Eddie is an alpha and Robin loves ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ but only the 2005 version.
Eddie smells distinctly like the lingering scent left behind after rain has just passed. Petrichor, he recalls. Of dampened earth and freshly watered plants, ready to sprout up from the ground and reach for the skies above. It’s musky, but not overly so, not in the way that many alphas smell too heavy and cloying. Light and simple, yet full of so many things that make Steve want to lay down and rest for a while in it. A moss blanket of carefully composed warmth and comfort, all contained in a single scent from a single alpha.
Steve knows that Robin will watch ‘The Notebook’ every single day and cry about it if he lets her, but he doesn’t know why Eddie’s scent sort of makes him want to cry too.
“Are you okay there, puddles?”
“Huh?”
Steve snaps out of it abruptly, shocked to find that for all his intentions of keeping their handshake short, he never actually let go of Eddie’s hand because he was distracted by his scent.
He steps away finally, breaking their physical connection rather impolitely and putting enough space between them that Eddie’s scent doesn’t immediately follow where he goes.
“Steve?” Robin asks, a questioning hand on his shoulder now.
It’s too much. There’s too much going on and his head is pounding now, beating against the sensitive place just above his neck.
Steve gently shrugs off his friend’s attempt at comfort, not wanting to snap at her while he’s feeling raw and sensitive. He redirects his attention back to the strange alpha instead— the actual source of his sudden migraine.
“What— what did you just call me?”
It’s a rhetorical question, a chance for Eddie to correct himself and take it back.
He distinctly heard Eddie say ‘puddles,’ but since that means fuck-all to him, he thinks an explanation (and probably an apology) is more than deserved. Steve doesn’t even know this weirdo and he’s already giving flirty nicknames? Did Chrissy teach him to take advantage of other archeologists, to borrow a page out of her own book and use sex appeal as a means to get ahead?
Just because Steve thinks Eddie is attractive doesn’t mean that he’s willing to let his guard down and throw away what could possibly be the last shot at securing research funding for them.
“Oh— uh, nothing. Just an inside joke, I guess?” Eddie replies cryptically. A hint of a smile pulls at his lips once more, like he’s secretly amused by this whole thing and unwilling to share what’s so funny. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Between the rising heat and the throbbing of his 'pretty little head,’ Steve is not feeling very patient.
“Keep your jokes to yourself then. We have work to do here, if you don’t mind. And by the way… I’m not interested, so save your breath and keep your hands to yourself,” Steve states boldly, making an assumption about Eddie’s intentions.
He could be wrong, but the way the alpha lets out an obnoxious snort, he’s sure that he’s not off the mark. It’s not the first time someone has made unwanted advances towards Steve and it wouldn’t be the last.
They all give up pretty quickly though once they catch his unpleasant scent or encounter his less than friendly attitude.
“Easy now, tiger. That hardly seems fair when I’ve not said more than a few words to you, Steve… and I mean, you do know what they say about archeologists, don’t you?”
Steve feels like he’s walking into a trap, but he’s not going to be intimidated by this alpha, no matter how uneasy his presence makes Steve.
“No, I don’t know what they say.”
Robin groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Please don’t say they’ll d–”
Eddie jumps right in with confidence, not allowing her to finish her sentence, “They’ll date any old thing!”
Jesus. Christ.
It’s arguably one of the worst jokes Steve’s ever heard and the guy is just grinning from ear-to-ear like he’s really proud of it. The secondhand embarrassment is borderline physically painful.
“Seriously?”
“Do you get it? It’s actually pretty clever. You see, we—” Eddie gestures in a circle to all three of them with his pointer finger, “—are archeologists… so, our job is literally ‘dating old things’ and then it’s— it’s funny because it’s like a double entendre, right? Because we also apparently have low standards for dating, I guess. Actually, maybe that’s not the point of the joke, but carbon dating is incredibly helpful for determining chronological timelines.”
Okay then. The guy’s maybe got more than a few screws loose. And definitely some uncontrolled ADHD that should probably have been addressed before now in his life.
Eddie looks disappointed by his lack of a reaction, so he repeats the punchline, “We’ll date any old thing,” once more with a strained smile, his voice noticeably less enthusiastic this time.
Steve grimaces, silently praying that a sinkhole opens up and saves him from this interaction. Death might be preferable to listening to Eddie explain the joke for a third time.
Apparently also rattled, the alpha finally yanks the remaining earbud out of his ear and tucks it back into his pocket for something to do with his hands.
“Okay. Um, if that’s all then… I really do need to get started on my work here,” Steve announces, attempting to move past this with as little additional awkwardness as possible.
Any remaining light in Eddie’s expression seems to crumble in front of him, his mouth unable to keep up the weight of his pained frown and his eyes giving away how upset he is at being shut down.
“Ah. Right, sorry.”
For some inexplicable reason, Steve feels a powerful urge to comfort the guy. They don’t know each other. They’ve never met before now, but it’s like his inner omega is crying out to tell him that Eddie needs to be hugged and scented by him— and maybe more. Maybe they could even just curl up together in his makeshift nest back at the hotel and he could hold Eddie close until he feels better, purring soothingly to tell him that it’s gonna be okay? That would help his alpha.
Which begs the pressing question of whether Steve has lost his whole entire goddamn mind in the last hour? He does not have an alpha. Eddie is not his alpha. They’re just two strangers sharing a dig site.
He owes him nothing. This whole thing is absurd.
“No, I’m sorry,” Steve blurts out, grasping for some sense of control over his own instincts. “The joke was— uh, I mean— I get it, but I’m just not interested. Still.”
He always has impeccable self control and this is not like him. The stumbling over words and grasping for restraint. Something is wrong, even if he can’t put his finger on the exact problem. Eddie is the source, but there has to be more going on here.
A gas leak? Poison in the air? Heatstroke?
The corners of Eddie’s lips twitch upward. Almost a smile. Almost.
“That’s alright. Certainly not the first time I’ve been rejected. Probably won’t even be the last either. Suppose I’ll have to keep working on my pick-up lines for the future. Admittedly, I was excited to use that one considering the unique circumstances we’ve found ourselves in, but I guess I’ll live.”
“Maybe next time,” he agrees with a nod, hoping it’s mutually understood that ‘next time’ will not be with him.
Eddie’s actual small smile in response to that is cute, maybe even a little shy. He’s a lot more attractive when his mouth is silent and he’s not spouting absolute nonsense from it.
Robin clears her throat loudly, directing his attention back to her.
Steve honestly forgot she was there too.
“I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel, Stevie. I’ve got something I need to do. I trust you can gather some information and figure out which part of the grid looks the most promising for us to start with.”
She won’t meet his eyes. He knows exactly what she’s planning to do at the hotel and exactly why she doesn’t want to tell him outright. It’s going to make a bigger mess of things, but he can’t find it in himself to begrudge her the chance to set things right.
Maybe love exists. It’s just not for him.
“Room 116,” Steve reminds her quietly.
Robin looks surprised, but she covers it well.
They don’t need more words between them than that. She nods her appreciation and gathers up her things, giving Eddie an awkward goodbye nod as well as she leaves.
Part of him worries about her making the trek back to the hotel alone, but he imagines that she’ll probably run into Chrissy before she makes it that far anyway. It’s not late enough in the day for him to stress about this. He really does have work to do.
They’re alone now.
Steve kneels on the ground, unzipping his backpack and rummaging around to find the items he needs to get started. Gloves, a trowel, chisel, dusting brush, and a magnifying glass. Tools of the trade.
He glances back to see that Eddie is still staring at him, not having returned to his own designated spot yet to continue.
It seems too much to hope that maybe the alpha is done for the day and ready to head back to town as well.
The silence is unnerving though.
“You knew my name before I introduced myself,” Steve states, breaking it from sheer curiosity. “You called me ‘Steve’ and you sounded very sure of yourself.”
It’s been bothering him from the moment Eddie first greeted him and he’s sure there has to be a logical reason for it, but it will drive him insane if he doesn't find out and put his roaming thoughts to bed.
Eddie looks equal parts relieved at being addressed and flighty about the accusation, fiddling with something in his pocket instead of meeting Steve’s eyes.
“Lucky guess.”
That’s a blatant lie.
Why is he lying? He couldn’t get Eddie to shut up a minute ago and now he’s holding back information. For what? They’re the only two around anyway.
Steve finds a spot a few feet away from where Eddie was digging. The ground is mostly intact there and looks undisturbed enough to potentially have what he’s searching for. Not that he even knows what he’s looking for.
“Hell of a guess…”
Eddie finally returns to the ground, replacing his gloves and starting to chisel away at a rather large chunk of hardened soil in front of him without answering Steve’s questioning glances.
“I suppose so. Maybe you just happen to really look like a ‘Steve.’ Some people look destined for their names. Have you ever thought about that, puddles?” Eddie teases him lightly.
There’s that goofy nickname again. It still makes no sense to Steve, but it’s not like he has a plethora of choices for companions at the moment and his head is feeling a little better.
He can humor the strange man with his strange mannerisms. If nothing else, it will pass the time since Robin isn’t around.
“Are you hitting on me again? You’re insatiable. I thought we both agreed that it was a waste of your time, Eddie. Did you get amnesia or something, or am I just that irresistible?”
Steve wants to take back his words the second they fly out of his mouth unfiltered and far too flirty to pass off as friendliness. It’s like he has no sense of self-preservation around this guy. His brain is deep fried and being served up on a platter for Eddie to pick at freely.
The alpha turns away from his work to flash Steve a playful grin, his jovial mood evidently restored now by Steve’s own stupidity. Walking into traps seems to be his specialty today.
“Well, I never actually said that I was going to give up on you. I told you that I was used to rejection, not that I was a quitter. In fact, I’ve been told that I’m a bit of a stubborn ass when I want something badly enough,” Eddie confesses in an excited whisper, like it’s a secret between just the two of them. “As it happens, I don’t see myself losing interest in you any time soon, Stevie.”
And why does that idea send a tiny flutter of excitement to his belly?
This might be dangerous.
His face feels hot in a way that’s unrelated to the rising temperatures outside. It's possible that Eddie’s compliments are affecting him regardless of Steve having zero intentions of returning the sentiments.
But when’s the last time an alpha continued to try and charm him even after picking up his unusual smell? Other omegas tend to smell floral or sweet— enticing and mouthwatering to potential mates. It’s in their nature to attract alphas by scenting of pleasant things.
Steve smells distinctly of dirt. Mud. Silt and sand and clay.
And yet… and yet Eddie is still flirting with him. His eyes haven’t left Steve’s, as if he’s waiting on his every word. As if Steve is important enough to listen to. Beyond that, he’s openly declaring his intent to pursue the omega.
“You’re an odd man, Eddie. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
He cackles.
“Some might even go so far as to call me a freak.”
Yeah, that seems accurate. Not that Steve would ever call anyone names, but Eddie is rather unusual, even for being in a field full of antisocial academics. Most archeologists he meets aren’t exactly charismatic, but they also aren’t quite so unhinged or forward about their interest.
“Your words, not mine,” he shoots back.
This is going to be a long month.
Despite the bumpy start they’d had with miscommunications and unwarranted flirting, Steve gets along with Eddie about as well as he does with Robin.
It truly makes no sense to him still.
They have very little in common. Both well educated and studied in their field, but that seems to be where the similarities stop. Their taste in music, their clothing styles, even their motivations for working in the field are entirely opposite.
When Steve had asked why Eddie chose to become an archeologist, all the alpha could really say was, “I was looking for something. Well— someone.”
He’d pointed out that any people they’d find would be long past their point of expiration, but Eddie had only laughed and made some remark about how some things worth finding aren’t buried in the ground anyway.
It had felt like another come-on, so Steve had ignored it and the subsequent wink that was thrown his way. He’s become used to the alpha’s advances and their familiarity is almost comforting now.
Steve may not fully understand the alpha’s reasons for it, but he thinks the flirting is mostly harmless.
Eddie had, however, listened when he explained his own reasons in return.
“I’ve always dreamed of uncovering the stories and secrets of those who came before us. I want to know who they were— what made their lives meaningful. Anything and everything that I can dig my hands into and touch. I want it all to be real, for it to tell me what’s happened and bring me into the past,” Steve had confessed, feeling vulnerable for sharing all of that so candidly.
Typically, he gave the polished academic version of his answer about preserving history and documenting the past, but Eddie seemed genuinely interested in hearing what Steve had to say.
Aside from Robin, no one else ever really paid him that much attention.
“Earth to Steve,” Eddie says into his ear, causing Steve to jump a little. “You spacing out there?”
He had been.
The combination of heat and long hours have been weighing down on him, truthfully. They’ve only got about another week to come up with something truly spectacular and worthy of funding or else he and Robin would be doomed to return to the boring world of research or worse— academia.
God knows that neither of them would make a very good professor. They’re too scatterbrained. And ultimately, it would pull Steve entirely out of the hands-on part of his career that he truly loves. If he can’t be in the dirt, then he doesn’t want to call himself an archeologist.
“Uh, yeah. I’m good,” he mumbles. “Just a little tired today.”
Eddie frowns at that, reaching out an ungloved hand to touch his forehead briefly. He lets out a small noise of sympathy, searching Steve’s face for something else.
“You feel hot, puddles.”
Steve doesn’t even have the energy to tell Eddie off for still using the dumbass nickname again. There’s been no explanation since the first time they met and Steve’s mostly used to it amongst the other strange things Eddie calls him.
It would be nice to understand it though.
“I’m fine. We’re working out in the blistering sun, Eddie. I’m gonna be hot. I have water,” he argues, gesturing to his mostly untouched bottle next to him on the ground.
Admittedly, he hasn’t been the best about actually consuming his water today. Robin reminded Steve about their nearing deadline that morning and it had sort of lit a fire under his ass in terms of sparking his determination.
And yes, of course Steve has been told repeatedly to be careful out in the field. He’s heard a thousand and one lectures about staying hydrated, applying sunscreen, taking breaks, etc. blah, blah, blah.
All fine and dandy and even easy to follow when you have the luxury of time and funding at your disposal!
Just add a metric ton of pressure, a best friend counting on Steve to find a once-in-a-lifetime discovery while she’s busy reconciling with a past fling, and a guy who won’t stop flirting with him, and it’s a little trickier to stay on task whilst also remembering to take care of his body too.
“-eve? Steve? Hey, I really think maybe we should head back to town for the evening. You’ve been more intense than usual today and a good dinner might be in order for us to refuel,” Eddie suggests softly, grabbing Steve’s water and attempting to give it to him. “We can try again tomorrow, alright?”
He bats the alpha’s hand away, not wanting to stop long enough to even take his gloves off.
“I said I’m fine, Eddie. If you want to leave, then go, but I’m not moving from this site until I have something worthwhile to bring back with me. This is important to me. I have to do this.”
Eddie purses his lips and his eyebrows furrow like he might actually yell.
“Seriously, Steve? You’re seriously going to keep digging despite the fact that we’ve not seen a single thing of note in weeks? You look like shit. Let’s go back to the hotel and get some rest before you really are hurt. I’m not gonna let you injure yourself over some silly artifact that may or may not be here, sweetheart.”
Steve’s never seen him mad before.
He's looked sad and somewhat disappointed before, particularly when Steve has spurned his advances. Other than that, Eddie’s typically smiling and cracking jokes. The life of the party on all occasions. The guy treats their job like it’s just a summer camp or something.
No matter how bad of a day it is, he manages to let it all roll off him.
It makes no sense. If he cares about archeology, if he cares about the past cultures they’re working so tirelessly to preserve and archive in the annals of history, then Eddie, by all means, should be as stressed as him! He should give a shit that they’ve found damn near next to nothing in the past month!
There’s no funding for people who are bad at their jobs.
Why isn’t he worried too? What trick does he have up his sleeve?
A sudden and awful thought strikes Steve like a blow to the stomach and the moment he thinks it, he can’t simply brush it away without considering whether there might be some amount of truth to it.
What if Eddie is only here to do what Chrissy did to Robin?
Oh god. His chest hurts at the very idea.
Robin was young and naive when it happened to her. She’d never make that mistake again. But if she’s distracted with her ex and Steve is left alone with a charming alpha prepared to steal his work…
What if Eddie learned from his research partner and is waiting for Steve to uncover a career-establishing artifact so he can snatch it away, slap his own name on it, and sweep up all the glory for the discovery for himself?
It would explain so much. Why Eddie knew his name before he came, why he’s been so keen on getting close to Steve. It would also lend credibility to the idea that Eddie’s relentless flirting has an ulterior motive. His jokes and nicknames have all been a concentrated effort to get Steve to let his guard down and slip up like Robin did.
Why else would he tolerate Steve’s repulsive scent? He knew it was too good to be true.
Maybe Eddie would even take it as far as Chrissy did, would make a move on Steve and promise him the world only to snatch it from his hands the second they held something of value to him.
What a piece of shit.
“Fuck off! Just leave me alone, Eddie. Go away and stop bothering me, you asshole!”
Steve continues to dig into the earth, going faster than he normally would in his anger. Slow and steady may win the race, but quick and frantic is what might save his ass— and Robin’s.
His trowel sinks into the ground over and over, as fast as he can manage with his fatigued muscles, hardly paying attention to where Eddie is as he makes the hole deeper.
“Jesus, baby, this is not healthy. C’mon, let’s at least talk about this,” Eddie pleads, getting down next to him on the ground, his voice considerably more gentle than his previous attempts to dissuade Steve. “How about we take a water break for a few minutes and then we can see how you’re feeling? We can just pause and make sure you’re not gonna faint out here.”
He ignores him.
The words are lies. Eddie doesn’t care.
His heart is racing now. Partially from adrenaline and partially from anger. Anger and outrage that Eddie would spend weeks befriending him and making it seem like he was genuinely interested in Steve just to betray him.
No matter how much he tried to keep some emotional distance between them, Steve knew he was beginning to fall headfirst for the guy. One can only handle so much flirting and affection before it starts to mean something.
Before Eddie started to work his way into Steve’s heart.
Trowel hits dirt over and over, scooping away and into a bucket nearby to keep it out of his work area. It comes easily, giving way to his tool and not resisting as he shovels and shovels, clearing the way with ease.
Until it hits something harder.
It could just be a rock. They find those a lot.
But something in Steve just knows it’s more. He can feel it in his bones. Rocks are normally small and they either shatter or get dislodged by their digging. The very sound of the trowel hitting them is different. Whatever he hit was large. Now that he’s not frantically digging, he can see that there’s a patch of wood peaking out beneath the surface.
He drops the trowel, beginning to work at the dirt with his gloves instead. This is the delicate part. Removing an object without damaging it.
“Puddles, did— did you find something?”
Eddie is over his shoulder now, peering into the hole with unhidden curiosity.
Steve has to get it out and get himself away as soon as possible or he risks losing all of his work to the alpha. If he’s truly as bad as Steve thinks he might be, Eddie could even use his alpha voice and command him to hand it over.
“Don’t you dare try to take it from me,” he snarls, meaner than he can ever recall being in his life.
Eddie is silent, so it seems to work.
His fingertips burn from how frantically he scrapes away the dirt, even with the protection of his gloves. It hurts, but he pushes it down. Steve is strong. He can handle a little pain. He has to do this.
It’s calling to him.
It makes no sense, but he can feel the presence of what’s being unearthed. It wants to be found. It wants Steve to find it.
“Feel and remember,” it croons into his ear.
“Release me from the ground and back to where I belong,” it begs him.
“Free me,” it demands.
Steve removes it from the hole in the earth with shaking hands, lifting the wooden box up and holding it in front of his face to get a better look. Beneath the layer of dirt, he can make out some carvings. Runes of some sort. They seem so familiar— reminiscent of the ones he’d seen photographed in nearby areas.
Why would there be writing on— well, whatever this is? They’re not Grecian runes. At least not any that he can recognize or decipher.
The part of him that’s trained says he should photograph and document this box thoroughly before attempting to open it, but the part of Steve that feels completely under the spell of something stronger than him beckons him to do it anyway.
There’s no lock, just a simple latch that comes undone fairly easily after the dirt clinging to it is brushed away. From within the box comes something beautiful though. Something he knows instinctively is the artifact they’ve been searching for.
He can’t quite figure out what he’s holding exactly. Maybe an urn or a piece of pottery with an unknown purpose? It’s shaped like a vase, but that’s presumptive. Function isn’t always related to shape. Steve knows that.
Red clay with more unidentifiable ruins etched into it.
Despite how old it must be, it looks immaculate. It should be impossible for the pottery and its container to appear this well preserved. What was keeping them safe?
“Steve, let’s get these secured in something protective…” Eddie suggests slowly. “We’ll get them packed away and then we can leave. That’s enough for today.”
He chokes on a bitter laugh.
“I’m sure you’d— you'd love that,” Steve rasps, not looking away from the entrancing object.
As insane as he’d felt hearing it call to him, he knows the heartbeat pumping beneath his fingertips is just as impossible. And yet. He feels it. Like a living creature begging to be touched, this pottery is alive.
It compels him to remove his gloves and feel it with his bare skin. He has to know that it’s not the heat or the pounding of his own heart causing him to mistake this. All his education says he shouldn’t be handling this without gloves, but Steve has to.
“Feel and remember,” it beckons once more.
Steve places it back into the box next to him ever so carefully in order to whip off his gloves and toss them aside. Before he can reach for the vase again, Eddie’s own bare hands are grabbing his face. Cradling it.
The touch is gentle, but unwanted to say the least.
“I told you to leave me alone—”
One hand moves to his forehead, the touch ice cold. He flinches away, almost losing his balance in the process.
“Fuck, baby, you’re burning up. Let’s stash these and get you back to town. We can deal with them later, okay?” Eddie pleads seriously. “Please listen to me, Steve. I’m really worried about you.”
He sounds sincere, but Steve is no fool.
Robin believed Chrissy too. She’d played right into that trap and he wasn’t going to learn the lesson firsthand. Whatever he’s discovered could be the answer to all his problems.
“Just stop, Eddie!”
Steve tries to shake off the touch, but his head spins and the earth isn’t staying in one spot anymore. The pounding of his heart gets faster and sudden awareness of his shaking form surprises him.
Fuck.
Ignoring the signs from his own body may result in him losing all his work anyway. If Eddie snags the vase, Steve will be too weak to do anything about it.
He does a bad thing.
He dives for the vase, grabbing the handles with both his ungloved hands and holding it tight against his chest, praying with all that’s in him for the pottery to stay in his grasp. If he doesn’t let go, then Eddie can’t take it. If he doesn’t give up, he can’t lose it and Robin can’t lose her funding.
The moment his skin brushes the cool material of the vase, his headache seems to explode into something ten thousand times worse. It pounds the back of his head like a steel baseball bat straight to the skull, pain heating and blooming from the point of impact and spreading throughout his entire being.
It hurts.
It all hurts.
He’s never been in this much pain in his entire life. Immeasurable agony.
Everything goes black before his eyes as his body finally releases the last of his strength. He becomes light then, held by something— or someone else.
“Shhhhh, you’re okay, sweetheart. Hold on.” A gentle hand runs through his sweaty hair, smoothing it away from his face. He leans into the touch this time, the soothing coolness of it against his own burning skin is the only thing he can process. “I will take care of you just like I always do. You’re safe and I’m not letting go of you ever again, Stevie. Never again, baby. I love you, my little puddle… I always do. Just rest now.”
Eddie smells like the storm is finally over.
His familiar scent washes over Steve and leaves renewal and rebirth behind in its wake. An early morning, a blank slate, a new beginning of sorts.
Clean. Fresh. Safe.
It’s more than that though. It’s not just a scent but a bone-deep feeling. Security and safety— the sure confidence that Steve can let go and be vulnerable here with Eddie and nothing bad will happen under his watch. He's protected.
Home. Love. Mate.
“My alpha,” Steve mumbles, confident in his assertion now.
Eddie gasps sharply, but his exhale trails off into a small, pleased laugh. His scent turns tangibly brighter, happier. Steve knows without being able to open his eyes and check that he must be smiling.
"My omega," he confirms with the gentlest lips pressed to Steve's forehead.
The world fades away, but that loving touch lingers in the darkness of his mind.