Chapter Text
Wes is just finishing his morning open routine and taking the first batch of blackberry tarts out of the oven when he hears the chimes above the front door jingle. He’s placing the tray of baked goods in the fridge to cool so that he can dust them with powdered sugar later when Blair pops her head in with a cheery grin. The brunette snags a cheese danish off a nearby plate labeled “For Cups of Comfort Employees” on her way to the lockers tucked in the back corner of the kitchen.
Pausing next to Wes, she bumps their shoulders. “You left earlier than usual this morning. I didn’t even hear you get up.”
The omega shrugs. “I had some extra baking to do,” he explains, motioning vaguely at the kitchen.
“Uh huh. Sure.” Blair nudges him again with a smirk and whispers conspiratorially, “I think Mr. July pulled up next to me at the light on Waterman. He’s probably waiting outside right now.”
Heat creeps up and over Wes’ ears. The mating gland on the omega’s neck itches under the scent tape at the mere mention of his favorite patron. Out of pure embarrassment, he stuffs down the rush of excited pheromones that threaten to escape out every pore and glares at his best friend.
“Stop calling him ‘Mr. July,’” he mutters, running a hand nervously through his auburn curls. “His name is Bellamy.”
Blair just snickers and points at the calendar tacked on the wall next to the lockers with her thumb, as if its presence speaks for itself.
Printed above the month of July was a tall, tanned man with thick, dark hair styled up and gelled away from his forehead, muscular, tattooed arms, and a well-defined physique standing shirtless in front of Engine 115. He’s cradling two, orange and white kittens in his helmet. The khaki pants of his turnouts hanging low on his hips left very little to the imagination.
There was a reason why the calendar was hung at work and not in Wes’ bedroom. In his twenty nine years on this earth, he’s never been so equally horrified and aroused about having a crush.
Rolling her eyes with a smile, Blair opens her locker and trades her crossbody bag for a sage green apron. She pats Wes’ arm placatingly on her way to open the register and unlock the door to the cafe. She bites into the danish without another word.
Wes watches the beta go before glancing over at the calendar guiltily.
So what if August is already more than half over and he’s never bothered turning the page since it got put on the wall over 9 months ago.
His blush darkens, making the freckles on the bridge of his nose more prominent.
Last winter when the local firehouses had gone around the neighborhood selling copies of their firefighter calendars to raise money for the cancer center at the children’s hospital, Wes had nearly disappeared into the floor when Blair gleefully purchased one from the newest “probie” of LHFD Station 115.
Bellamy Russo–Mr. July, as he’s been so hilariously dubbed by Blair–was a 32-year old alpha (Blair had seen his birthdate on his driver’s license one day) transplant from New York City completing his year-long probationary period at the 115. What had possessed him to move to Loring Hill, North Carolina was anyone’s guess, but Wes was thankful he had all the same.
Even though he was never going to act on his overwhelming attraction towards the alpha, he couldn’t stop his heart from doing somersaults every time Bellamy stopped by the cafe to do a coffee run for the station.
Speaking of…
Wes whips the tarts out of the fridge, dusts them with the powdered sugar, and piles them onto a mint green dish. Grabbing the other colorful platters of baked goods as he passes them, he restocks the display case next to the front counter just as Blair flips the sign in the window to OPEN.
While six thirty was a little early compared to other places in the area, Wes had always been a morning person, and there were always customers eager to get their coffee before rush hour.
One such customer was Station 115. Like clockwork every day, one of the firefighters or paramedics would swing by on their way to their shift and pick up something to go.
And so what if Wes had figured out their bizarre work patterns on his own. As Blair had hinted, it was Bellamy’s shift today, and he’d be back again on Thursday.
The omega wipes his hands on his apron and surveys the cafe once, giving Blair a double thumbs up before darting back into the kitchen.
Opening the locker adjacent to Blair’s, he’s nearly vibrating with anticipation as he pulls a paper bag out of his baby blue, corduroy tote bag. It smells mostly like chocolate but also tint hints of lavender and honey. He may have accidentally scented the bag while he was packing it before applying scent patches to the insides of his wrists.
So much for not making his overwhelming attraction for Bellamy obvious.
Blair gives Wes a quizzical look when he returns with the paper bag and hides it behind the display case. But while she’s distracted with taking a customer’s order, the omega busies himself by starting on the first mobile order of the day.
They’re only open for maybe ten minutes when the front door chimes again.
“Mr. July,” Blair hisses at Wes who has his back turned to the door.
Even if the alpha’s presence hadn’t been announced, Wes would have known who had entered by scent alone–fresh roasted coffee, bourbon whiskey, and a dash of vanilla. Everything Wes loved rolled into one mouthwatering aroma.
The omega assumes that Bellamy applies the LHFD mandatory scent tape and neutralizer spray at the station because he always comes in smelling like a warm, cozy hug. And even if Wes’ own workplace precautions kept his pheromones muted, he wonders sometimes if they bleed through due to the sheer power of his omega’s will to impress.
Blair often teases that she could see his metaphorical puppy tail wagging with utter abandon every time the alpha enters the cafe.
“Morning,” greets Bellamy with a polite smile. Dimples appear in his cheeks. He’s dressed in a fitted navy T shirt with the LHFD emblem over his left pectoral, tailored navy uniform pants, and a matching shiny black belt and work boots. He nods cordially at Blair, but his gaze is drawn to Wes who is now hovering behind her doing his best to keep his obvious interest as concealed as possible.
“Morning, Mr. Russo,” the beta replies pleasantly while not so subtly side-stepping away from the register. Her dark blue eyes twinkle with barely contained amusement as she squeezes her friend’s bicep and gently moves him closer to the counter. “The boss knows your order.”
Wes snaps out of his reverie and starts rattling off from memory, “Three large, hot coffees–two black and one with cream, no sugar–one hot chai tea latte, one mocha frappe, and one cold brew coffee with oat milk.”
Bellamy chuckles fondly. “Impressive as always, sweetheart,” he says while leaning forward on the counter. “Has anyone ever told you that your customer service is impeccable?”
Wes can only blink in response, inwardly giddy at the alpha’s flirtation. He hopes his expression is less stupid than he feels.
Bellamy towers over him, at least six foot two, and although his stance could be presumed as intimidating, it’s more comforting than anything else. Strong. Protective. Like Wes could hide away from the world in the shadow of this alpha.
Wes is bigger than most male omegas in both height and stature. He stopped growing around 5 foot 9, and although he maintains the typical omegan softness in his middle and thighs, his frame is square and compact, still very masculine where others of his designation are curvy or dainty.
His body used to make him feel subconscious, especially in college when To–
No, forget him, Wes reminds himself. You’re fine the way you are.
He misses the way Bellamy is watching him closely while he’s plagued by bad memories. As if transfixed by the blush on his cheeks and his fluttering, long, two-toned eyelashes–reddish at the base and light blonde at the tips–that frame his crystal blue eyes, the alpha can’t take his eyes off Wes’ face.
“He gets that all the time!” Blair calls over her shoulder, thankfully rescuing the poor omega from his own head but accidentally startling both men. She begins dutifully making the drink order.
Wes clears his throat, throwing on a mask of professionalism once again, and smiles at the alpha. “That’ll be $31.15. Company card, right?”
The alpha straightens up off the counter and nods. Pulling his wallet out of the back pants pocket, he removes a red debit card and taps it on the kiosk reader.
Blair finishes putting the drinks into a six-cup carrier as Wes hands Bellamy his receipt.
The alpha thanks Blair and Wes for the coffee and pulls a couple ten dollar bills from his wallet to drop in the tip jar. Wes had given up telling Bellamy that first responders didn’t need to leave them tips months ago. The alpha was going to regardless.
“I hope you both have a nice day,” he says, picking up the carrier. “I should get to the station before my shift starts. Cap is big on punctuality.”
“Of course,” replies Wes. “Thanks for stopping by. Have a safe shift.”
With one last nod and amiable smile, the alpha is halfway to the door when Wes suddenly remembers the paper bag sitting on the floor.
“Bellamy, wait!” he calls out, reaching for the bag and darting around the counter to meet the tall man by the door. “I made you dark chocolate protein muffins. They should give you energy throughout the day without the crash.”
Bellamy’s expression softens, light brown eyes shining with warmth and fondness in the golden glow of dawn. Wes scrambles to stop the alpha from reaching for his wallet and practically thrusts the bag into Bellamy’s free hand. A flash of heat sparks from where their fingers touch.
“No! These are on the house!” he explains hastily. “I was testing a new menu item, that’s all.”
Bellamy’s entire posture softens under Wes’ earnestness. “Thanks, darling,” the alpha croons, just for Wes to hear. “I’ll let you know what I think next time.”
And boy does that make Wes’ stomach do somersaults. Sweetheart. Darling. Honey. Coming from anyone else, Wes would probably cringe and shut them down immediately. Instead, Wes basks in the attention, and the pet names are more than welcome in his honest opinion.
He stands there, and despite being frozen by Bellamy’s rich scent, there’s warmth radiating from his hand long after the man departs the coffee shop.
Wes is so dazed that he doesn’t notice Blair sneaking up behind him.
“Could you be any more obvious?”
The omega jumps with a yelp and glares at the beta. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re blushing. Like literally glowing. Fluorescent, one might say.”
“Mind your business, Bear. I can still fire you, you know.”
Blair laughs, throwing her head back in amusement. “You wouldn’t dare. But seriously? Muffins? Last week, you made him two dozen snickerdoodles. What’s it gonna be next week?”
Shoulders sagging, Wes sighs, slowly trudging his way back behind the counter. He collapses on a stool and lays his forehead on the marble countertop. “I don’t know. Do you think he thinks I’m being weird or needy?”
“I think,” Blair starts, pulling Wes into a side hug so that the omega can bury his nose in her hair for comfort, “that he’s smitten with you, Wesley Davis, and he does a terrible job of hiding it. Kind of like someone else I know.”
Wes inhales her grapefruit shampoo, holds his breath, and then exhales deeply. “He looks good in his uniform, okay?” he admits, closing his eyes in shame. “Gosh, I’m such a pathetic omega.”
“You’re not pathetic. And it’s okay to want to get to know another alpha, Wes. You shouldn’t let that worthless bastard continue to influence you. I get a really good feeling from Bellamy.”
“Me too….”
A “but” weighs heavily in the air but neither chooses to address it right now. Tabled for later.
The door chimes with another customer, and so the day goes on.
♡♡♡
“You’re late, Probie!” Kevin Yoon, the senior paramedic, hollers from across the station garage where he’s hunched over shining the bumper of Ambulance 115.
Bellamy flashes the older man a grin and brandishes the coffee carrier. “Sorry, Kev. Won’t happen again.”
“Liar,” another voice chimes in. Alice, the station’s second paramedic, pops up from behind the engine and makes grabby hands for the frappe. “You were probably too busy staring into the adorable owner’s eyes to pay attention to the time.”
“Again,” adds Kevin.
Ignoring the blush creeping over his cheeks, Bellamy laughs sarcastically under his breath and hands the frozen mocha drink over to Alice before passing the cold brew to the other beta. As he’s pulling away, Kevin flaps the rag in his hand in the direction of the paper bag under Bellamy’s arm.
“What’s that, Probie?” He motions as if to take a look in the bag. “Something for us?”
A possessive growl rumbles from Bellamy’s throat before he even knows what he’s doing, stopping Kevin’s outstretched arm in its tracks. Bellamy freezes immediately as silence falls over the station floor.
Both Kevin and Alice suddenly double over in boisterous laughter, breaking right through the tension. The red-headed omega is the first to recover and pats a mortified Bellamy on the arm. Her green eyes are dancing with mirth.
“Something for you,” she amends knowingly. “You’re hopelessly head over heels for him, huh, Russo.”
Bellamy pleads the fifth.
Kevin’s laughter has caught the attention of the other firefighters in the loft as they gather downstairs for their morning coffee and chores.
After carrying the rest of the coffees to a table at the back of the station, Bellamy retreats to the locker room to stash the muffins away for safe keeping.
It’s mildly embarrassing how possessive he feels over something so mundane, but the alpha feels like he’s teetering on the edge. Something about Wes has him in a chokehold in a way no other omega ever has. He runs his hands over his hair and takes a calming breath before rejoining his team.
“What’s so funny?” asks Liam, the youngest firefighter in their group.
“Bellamy growled at Kevin for trying to touch his present from the omega at Cups of Comfort,” Alice explains as the beta paramedic finally calms down, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. Alice juts her thumb over at Kevin. “He found it hilarious apparently.”
“Being growled at?”
“Bellamy’s inability to hide his crush,” Sofia, a young alpha firefighter, teases with a grin.
Kevin stands up and claps Bellamy on the back to show him that no harm was done. The beta’s head comes to just above Bellamy’s shoulder. “So what was it, Probie? What did I almost lose my hand over?”
The tall alpha sighs, mentally preparing for the incessant amount of teasing he’s bound to endure over the next 24 hours. “Wes made me muffins."
Everyone pauses while Bellamy braces for impact.
“And you didn’t want to share with us?” exclaims Liam at the same time Kevin shouts, “You gotta be kidding me!”
Alpha firefighter Jose crosses his arms and grumbles, “Why don’t I ever get free food when I go?”
Sofia giggles next to Alice, the girls linking their arms. “Because you’re not Bellamy, Ramirez,” the other alpha snarks.
Bellamy winces. “Would now be a bad time to tell you he baked snickerdoodles last week, but I hid them in my truck?”
Another chorus of protests rise up as the 115 express their shock and betrayal, but their outcry is interrupted by a deep, male voice clearing his throat from the loft. Six heads turn skyward at the sound.
It’s Captain Harry Blake. The man is leaning over the railing above them and clearly amused as he questions, “Do I want to know what’s going on this morning?”
“Just teasing Probie about the object of his affection, Cap,” Kevin announces.
“Who bakes him and only him goodies every week,” supplies Alice with a giggle.
Bellamy is about to defend himself in front of the captain, but the alarm in the station blares to life, and the lights on the pillars begin flashing.
Talk about being saved by the bell.