Chapter Text
Robert shifted his weight, the crinkle of the paper laid across the exam table sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet of the doctors office. He should have been out of here by now. I mean, yeah, he had been beaten, tortured, and then thrown around in a mech suit by a bigger, more spidery mech suit, but it wasn't that big a deal. He really couldn't understand why the doctor at the SDN infirmary asked him to wait, leaving him here, for, what? Robert glances at his phone. Forty five minutes? This was a bunch of bullshit. He should just leave. He had a dog to get back to, after all.
He wanted out of here, the sterile, scentless air of the infirmary was getting to him. As Robert began to rise, feeling each blow he had taken, cursing Shroud with every creek of his body, he heard a soft knock at the door. Of course, just when he’s ready to leave, the doctor comes back. “Come in.” he calls, settling back on the exam table.
The doctor comes in, all white coat and clipboard and stethoscope. “Mr Robertson, you had an incredibly difficult day today.” Her tone is sympathetic, and Robert has absolutely no time for it.
“Yeah, well, just hoping to get home, ya know? Now, if we could wrap this up?”
“About that. While your physical injuries are significant, none of them need further treatment at the moment. You should heal up in the next few weeks with rest. To manage the pain I would recommend taking aleve with breakfast and dinner, just to keep a good level in your system. Icing the bruises may also be helpful. If the pain doesn't improve in the first week, come back and see us.”
The speech seems well rehearsed, Robert wonders how many times she's given it. “Great, well, if that’s all-”
“Not quite.” The doctor shifts, Robert looks at her, actually seeing her, and not just her role. Dark skin looking a bit pale, hair frazzled, eyebrows pinched together. She looked stressed. Hopefully it was just the city almost burning down. Yeah, that had to be it. “Unfortunately, your blood work came back with some concerning results.” Not the city burning down. Damn it. “Mr. Robertson, I took the liberty of looking at your medical history, and it is, ah, somewhat incomplete.” No shit, with how much he poured into Mecha Man he hadn't been to a doctor properly in the last, what, seven years? Not counting the emergency room, but that was really just for particularly pressing issues.
“And?” Robert needed her to hurry it along. He was tired. His new couch and his warm dog and at least 12 hours of unconsciousness were calling his name.
“I need to ask you some relatively sensitive questions. Please bear with me and answer as accurately as possible.” She studies the clipboard. “You are an Omega, correct?”
Robert did not like where this was going. “Yes.”
“And how old were you when you presented?”
“Thirteen.”
“How often do you have your heats, and how are they?”
“I don't." Robert leveled a cold stare at the doctor, daring her to say anything about it. Too bad she was looking at her notes, completely missing the ‘this is not something I'm interested in talking about’ glare.
“What do you mean? All omegas have heats. Suppressants stall the effects for a while, of course, but they can only be safely used for two years at a time, with a three month rest period between uses.”
“And if used continuously they can render an omega heat free for…” Robert paused, doing some math in his head. “Seventeen years-” The doctor’s head jerked up, staring at the man in disbelief.
“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you”
Robert speaks slowly. “I’ve been on suppressants continuously for the last seventeen years. So far everything seems to be fine. When something happens with that, I’ll deal with it, but until then…” there’s not really much more to say.
He hates the way the doctor looks at him, pity all over her stupid, caring face.“I’m afraid then is now,” The doctor’s voice was infuriatingly gentle. It made Robert want to punch something. “Mr. Robertson, your hormones are at incredibly high levels, they are affecting your blood pressure, making it dangerously high. Continued usage could lead to permanent damage in several internal organs, including your heart and brain. It is incredibly important that you stop using the suppressants immediately.” The doctor kept talking, but Robert didn't hear what she was saying. His ears filled with ringing, and all he could think was no. No no no no no. Not this. Not now. No.
He was jerked back into reality by a gentle hand on his arm. He recoiled, preparing to fight, forcing himself to relax as he remembered where he was. The doctor was looking at him kindly. It made his stomach churn. “Is there anyone you would like us to call for you?”
“No, that’s alright. I’ll, I think I’ll head home now.”
“Before you go, there are a few more things I need to tell you.”
Robert buried his head in his hands. He was so fucking tired. Why did it have to be now? Couldnt he have a day, just one, where something wasn’t fucking his life up? Was that too much to ask? Apparently so. “If you have to say it, say it.”
“With how long you were on suppressants, you may have an intense response once you stop taking them. There is very little medical literature on the topic. From what I can find you will have a hard time controlling your scent. You may also experience mood swings, particularly irritability and sadness. Since you have never had a heat, we won’t know how those have beef affected until one comes. We’ll send you home with some extra strength scent blockers, as well as the number for a mental health crisis hotline. Still, you should take a week off of work and probably stay home, at least until you know what to expect and how to handle it. If you’re still having trouble then, we’ll talk about next steps. I’m so sorry about this honey.”
Robert feels angry, angry at the situation, at his body, at himself, at this nice doctor and her kindness. If he gets any madder he might just explode. Still, Robert clings to the anger, because otherwise, he’ll cry. He hates crying. “Alright. That all?”
“That’s all. There will be additional information on your exit paperwork. If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to give us a call.”
Robert nods, collecting his things and heading home. It’s a relief to be back in the privacy of his shitty apartment. Here, he can fall apart with no one but Beef to see. Robert knows that his dog won't tell if he cries himself to sleep. He loves the pup for many things, but right now, that might make the top of the list.
…
The first few days are hellish. Everything smells strong enough to make his stomach revolt. He can hardly keep water down, and doesn't dare even think about food. He swings between fury and despair, his eyes feel like hard boiled eggs and his head is pounding. He calls Chase and asks him to take beef, thankful that the older man is too excited to have the pup at his for a sleepover, as he calls it, to ask too many questions. That lasts until he gets within 50 feet of Robert’s apartment. Chase bangs on the door, yelling to be heard through the flimsy wood “The fuck is happening in there, you fuck? You’re damn near stinkin’ up the whole block!”
Robert opens the door and Chase flinches back as the smell of sugar and coffee and metal hit him like a tidal wave. “Shut the fuck up and get in. I dont want you yelling about it in the fucking hallway.”
“Kid, the whole fucking bulding knows somethings fuckin gonin on in here.”
Robert drags the older man into his apartment, closing and locking the door. “Yeah, but they don’t need to hear you yelling about it, too.”
The alpha pauses, taking a moment to look at the state of his old charge. “The fuck happened to you? You reek, and ya look like shit.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?” Robert’s voice doesn't have the sarcasm in it Chase expects. He sounds tired, defeated.
“Really, the fucks goin on? You can tell me.”
And Robert does, the words come out fast and disorganized, events jumbling together. The years of abusing heat suppressants, the appointment, the miserable day after. How his skin feels itchy and everything smells too strong, he smells too strong and doesn’t know how to stop it, how he can barely drink. How he doesn’t feel in control of his mind, his emotions. At the end of his tirade Robert breathed hard, eyes wild.
Chase rocks back on his heels. “Fuck”
“Yeah, fuck.” The laugh Robert lets out is dry and humorless, but it's something, and Chase feels just a little bit better.
The older man draws Robert into a hug, allowing his scent to grow slightly stronger, trying to exert a calming force. He had done this for him when he was younger, when Robert first presented. It felt good, familiar in a way that made things seem just a little more manageable.“Well that was fuckin stupid. What were you thinkin’, taking suppressants like that?” Chase’s tone is gentle, taking some of the bite out of the words.
“I was thinking that I had to be Mecha Man. You know how it is. The second anyone realizes a hero is an omega it’s all anyone will talk about. Every knothead villain, and a good number of heroes will try to take you down a peg or twenty. It felt like the right thing to do at the time.” It was quiet for a while. Robert was the first to pull away.
“So, whatcha gonna do about it?” Chase asks, heading to the kitchen to inspect the state of the cabinets.
“I mean, the doctor said to take a week, wait it out. I think the idea is some of the backed up hormones need to work their way out of my body. It must be pretty bad cause I’ve been putting on the scent blocker they gave me but it’s not doing shit.”
“I’ll say.”
“Thank you for your input. I can fucking smell myself, you know that right? Anyway, in a week the doctor said things should settle out. If I'm still,” Robert makes a vague gesture, indicating the state of himself “If this is still happening I’m supposed to go back in.”
“Well that fuckin sucks.”
“No shit.”
“Need me to pick you up some groceries after I take this good boy home? I cant let him be subjected to your fuckin miasma.” Robert winces, Chase had clearly noted his incredibly barren cupboards.
“Gee, thanks. Actually yeah, though. I can’t really go to the store smelling like this.”
Robert makes a list of some essentials, and gives it to Chase along with all of the supplies Beef might need before seeing his closest friend off. He still feels like shit, but maybe slightly less shitty shit, if only just a little.
After Chase leaves Robert notices his sweater, glaringly yellow, left on the counter. Robert rolls his eyes, but that doesn’t stop him from raising it to his nose and breathing in. It makes him feel better, if only just a bit, having the smell of family with him.