Alrighty, I'm thinking about starting an Omegaverse multi-chapter. We'll see how much love this gets.

Axis Powers Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

Sometimes having friends could spell trouble for even the most cautious of people. Friends were wonderful, yes, but not all the time. It would be at approximately this time tomorrow that Arthur would want to brutally murder every single one of his friends that had convinced him to come out with them that night. Every last one of them.

It was just an ordinary Friday night. But that's how everything starts out- ordinary. Arthur Kirkland was a normal college student of twenty three years, in his fourth year. Which was, admittedly, abnormal for an Omega. Typically, an Omega's education terminated before they graduated high school, or, at the latest, during their first or second years of university. Why? Because it was more than likely that they'd found a mate and been through the bonding ceremony by that time. But Arthur? Oh, no.

Back when he used to give a damn, all he'd known was rejection. No Alpha (or Beta, for that matter) wanted a stubborn, fussy Omega with breathtaking attitude problems. And Arthur was a packaged deal that included everything as described. A blessed existence, really. All warm thanks to his Beta parentage; they taught him not a single thing about being who he was programmed to be. Not that anyone wanted to look at it that way, but it was better to be relatively normal and adjusted than to be completely lost and uncertain of even the smallest things. Take it from someone from the other side of the fence- Arthur would know.

Not that he would ever admit that he felt lost. He would take that to the grave, of all things. But he was lost, terribly lost.

And now he was squished into a booth with some of the aforementioned friends at a nameless night club in New York City (the absolute loudest, brightest bleeding city in the entire bleeding world) because a few of his "friends" had convinced him to tag along. Not only was he squished, he was hot and unable to sit still, thanks to the swirling feeling brewing in his stomach, all together resulting in his immediate discomfort.

"Yay."

Why New York? After two years of university in England, Arthur had decided to go to school in the United States because of the excellent Economics program a school in New York City offered. He was pleased with the school so far, but being an Omega, and a maladjusted one at that, things were complicated. Why, on the first day he'd caused a small fuss because of his apartment building- there was no way he could be utilizing an apartment building that housed Alphas and Omegas on the same floors- for obvious reasons. The building he'd first looked into had conveniently forgotten to mention that very important bit of information. In the end, he'd found a pleasant apartment building that suited his "needs", thanks to his more determined traits, but that was enough of that. He was still stuck at this night club.

Arthur should have realized why he was sweltering and slightly queasy, but it hadn't occurred to him. All he knew was that he didn't feel well and wanted to drown himself in vodka. So that's precisely what he did. At some point later that night he'd lost the ability to tell whether a few minutes or a few hours had passed by, so he'd started counting the time by the number of drinks he'd downed. Now Arthur didn't mind the warmth so much anymore, though it was creeping up his back and making his neck clammy. Arthur shivered and gave the rim of his empty glass a lick, gazing around absently.

"This has got to be my third, right? Or perhaps fourth..."

It occurred to him that he had no idea where his friends had gone. He thought he could recall Felix saying something about going upstairs to find someone, but Arthur never really understood anything the Polish kid said, so it was hard to really say for certain if he was actually up there. Idly, he wondered why his glass was empty, but shrugged as if the question held no real importance. Which it did not. Did it? Does anything?

Nothing was important. Not even a poor, unfortunate Omega son like Arthur; not fortunate enough to be cared for, to be helped, to be-

Abort internal self-loathing session. By god, what was that smell? "Incredible" did not even begin to describe it- it was more like an insult to it. No, it wasn't food, or alcohol (which, of course, smelled amazing as well)- it had to be an Alpha. Betas didn't give off scents like that. Arthur Kirkland's eyes snapped out of their drunken haze and glanced around, fighting the numb feeling of intoxication to catch another whiff of that scent. How dare alcohol call itself intoxicating when that was the only word in the entire English language that could be used to describe that scent? It smelled of power, of gravity-defying confidence, all Alpha.

Now where the fuck was he?

The club was getting increasingly more crowded (and louder, or was it just Arthur?) as the minutes ticked by, making it harder and harder to see, think, and smell straight. Though the smell was potent, someone had just sat down at the bar next to Arthur wearing what had to be half a bottle of perfume, so it was hard to smell much else. Dammit, lady, she'd picked the worst night to wear all that floral-scented stuff. Couldn't she tell Arthur was trying to smell something? Or someone? Honestly, he had been enjoying breathing it in, soaking it up and picturing what this guy could look like. "Mnnh..." he couldn't help himself, shifting on the bar stool as flashes of the scent made it through the perfume and invaded Arthur's very being.

He really couldn't picture they guy- he didn't want to build his expectations too high in case of rejection, and simply because he couldn't think of any way for this Alpha to look. There were only two things Arthur knew for certain about him- one was that he was that he was very strong, and two, that he radiated self-confidence. Oh, and that he was male, but that was easily picked up by anyone's scent.

The aforementioned traits were commonly present in an Alpha, but, damn, this one was potent. "Where are you?" Arthur muttered under his breath, trying to keep his focus on searching the crowd and not on ordering another drink.

"What're you doin' here?"

Arthur 's head whipped around to where his back had been facing not a moment before, the rest of his body following as the bar stool swiveled under him. "I beg your pardon? Do I kn-"

And there it was. That was when it hit him; an intense wave of that potent scent from before came crashing down on him full force all at once, in that second. Had Arthur been standing he probably would've have felt some kind of kickback. It was a few seconds before Arthur could even begin to form words again, inhaling what dominance must have smelled like. Confidence. Perhaps even over-confidence.

Arthur didn't give a flying fuck what it was called; it was viciously fueling his hunger for sex. His fingers dug into the cushion of the stool he was perched on.

"No, you don't. I'm Alfred, nice to meet you," the newcomer said, holding out a hand. Arthur was barely able to suppress a shiver as their fingers brushed.

"Arthur, Arthur Kirkland," he supplied as he shook the other's hand cautiously. The last thing Arthur wanted to be with this man was cautious, but it wasn't like getting friendly on the bar counter was an option. Wait, was it? "What did you-"

"I'm wonderin' why you're sitting here when you smell like it's the last place you want to be," Alfred cut in boldly.

Too busy taking in Alfred's appearance to register that he'd insinuated that he was making an effort to analyze how the Briton smelled, Arthur tossed back an answer fairly quickly. "Dunno, just... just bored, I guess..." he muttered, fumbling over his own drunken lips. His attention was not on the eloquence of his speech, but on the other's... well, everything. Alfred was the owner of a head of thick, dark, golden blonde hair (at least, that was how it looked in the somewhat dim lighting of the club) cropped at the nape of his column of a neck that framed a dazzling pair of icy blue eyes. Smart glasses set in rectangular frames sat on the bridge of his nose, adding a few years to a face that may have looked younger without them. What was under those glasses, however, was balanced out by a chiseled jaw and unusually straight teeth that could be glimpsed when he spoke.

"Well, who are you with?"

"Some friends..." The blonde Alpha had taken the seat next to Arthur and ordered himself some drink Arthur hadn't heard the name of. Probably some kind of cheap beer- Americans seemed to specialize in that. Peh.

But they definitely didn't skimp out on their Alphas. The Briton took in the characteristic largeness of the other's frame. He owned particularly broad shoulders and was perhaps a bit above average height for an Alpha- the rest of him was hard to make out with the current lighting, but Arthur couldn't help but hope he'd get a closer, more hands-on experience later. Hoped.

"Some friends they are then, huh? Leavin' you by yourself, draggin' you here in the first place when you're obviously..." Alfred trailed off, seeming to breathe deeply, before grinning faintly. "Not in the best state to be out in public."

Now Arthur was far from stupid. He recognized intimation when he saw it. "Excuse me, are you suggesting that I'm-"

"Not suggestin', ah, what's the word...? Observing," Alfred cut in again, eyeing Arthur curiously.

The constant interrupting was beginning to get on Arthur's nerves. "I think I'd know if I'm in heat, no?"

Feisty Omega, huh? A rarity. Saying that Alfred was intrigued was the understatement of the century. While most other Alphas would be turned off, it had the exact opposite effect on Alfred. His friends called him a freak for it. "Yeah, I think you'd know, but I smelled it all the way across the room over all this alcohol and god knows what else. Needless to say, I followed it and found you sittin' here all bored-like. You, my Omega friend, are goin' into heat whether you like it or not, and I suggest you get outta here before more Alphas realize it."

Yes, Arthur was aware that, like Omegas, Alphas were equipped with a legendary sense of smell . How he'd pinpointed Arthur's exact location in the club despite the stench of cologne, alcohol, and tobacco, however, was beyond his imagination; it was disconcerting, but, at the same time, very intriguing. "Well, you're an Alpha. Shouldn't I be worried about you realizing it as well?" Arthur couldn't help himself.

At that Alfred rose from the stool, finishing the beer he'd ordered before leaning down and fixing both hands on the bar counter on either side of Arthur's body, enclosing him between the glossy wood and the Alpha's stifling body. "Maybe..." Alfred breathed into his ear, pressing his nose into Arthur's sandy blonde hair. He inhaled deeply, letting out a rather feral growl of desire as the Omega's scent overrode his rational mind for a split second. "You smell so damn good, I don't know if I can physically walk away from ya at this point." Blatant honesty.

Arthur could go for that. "Then don't."

He actually felt Alfred's lips twitch into a wider grin. "Don't mind if I don't."

"That was idiotic."

"Says the one who came out to a night club entering his heat," Alfred murmured huskily, inching impossibly closer to the Omega.

Arthur finally sputtered, flushing uncomfortably. "... prick..." Why did this guy have to come to this night club of all the clubs on the street? Why did he have to be so goddamn appealing? Him and his stupid libido. Alphas really thought with the wrong head sometimes. Often times.

It seemed Alfred had chosen to ignore that last bit and order another drink, which had just come. Alfred lifted one of his hands to retrieve it from the bartender, who Arthur could only assume was a Beta, for Omegas didn't bartend and an Alpha bartender would have probably started hitting on him already. Alfred was standing up straight now, starting his second beer of the night (or so Arthur assumed, for he couldn't be certain that Alfred hadn't been anywhere else before this). It did not go unnoticed, however, the strategic position of his legs; it was obvious that the other had purposely kept a close proximity so that their legs would remain pressed together. Fuck it all, Arthur was becoming more and more sexually aroused by the minute. Idly he wondered if he was having the identical effect on Alfred.

Said American's voice tore him from his thoughts. "So, where did you say your friends were?"

Arthur shrugged. "Dunno. The twats left me about two... three... ah, a long time ago..." Damn alcohol.

Something about Alfred's expression seemed disturbed. And something about that warmed Arthur's heart. Was it the thought that his friends would just flat out leave him by himself? In a club, as an Omega, no less. Honestly, Arthur had no idea why he hadn't been so paranoid about the situation; it was mostly likely because of the amount of vodka running through his bloodstream. The vodka was also probably responsible for the fact that Arthur wasn't a blubbering idiot under the attention of his new "friend". Who he felt strangely safe with. Despite the lack of his other friends' presence, he felt guarded, untouchable.

"I'm with my friends, too. Actually, I came here with them, I kinda just left them after picking up this incredible scent. I just had to find who it was." Alfred was grinning again, and Arthur decided he liked it that way. "I can't get enough of it," he muttered again into the Omega's ear, enjoying the way he flushed while his lips twitched into a small smile. It was when Arthur registered lips over his ear did he gasp with embarrassing volume. Instinctively he grabbed fistfuls of Alfred's shirt, feeling the rest of his body tense and slump back down again as the other pulled back.

"Fuck, I-I... I am not drunk enough for this..." Arthur turned his stool back around to properly face the bar, hastily ordering another vodka martini. "Extra, extra, extra- ehm, ah, dry." Arthur reached into his pocket for his wallet as the bartender nodded acknowledgement, but by the time the Briton produced the necessary bills the bartender had vanished. Upon closer inspection he could see her at the other end of the counter mixing his drink, plopping in an olive. "What...?"

The Briton gazed around absently for a moment, trying to figure out why she had- oh. Arthur turned a wary eye to Alfred. "Why did you... you... why did youdo that?"

Alfred waved a dismissive hand. "Can't I buy someone a drink?" he asked with a wink, finishing off another beer. How many was that? Two? Three?

It was when they were guessing numbers around four or five that Alfred was losing control of the Alpha animal within and Arthur was losing his ability to care. Well, care all that much. He kept his wits about him. Mostly. And when Alfred had him pressed against the bar counter and began pulling at his shirt he had to draw the line. "A-Alfred, stop, gedda... gedda... what're those things called here...?"

"Taxi?"

"Right."

Arthur didn't remember how he'd made it into the eyesore of a car. What he did remember was what went on inside it. Alfred gave the driver an address and then promptly shut the little sliding window separating the passengers from the driver. There were hot lips on his and hands exploring his legs, pulling him closer, unbelievably, impossibly closer. But it wasn't fulfilling, rather, a bit awkward at the angle the seat in the automobile provided. It was painfully drawn out, and anticipation beaded at the back of Arthur's neck until it grew too heavy to stay there, rolling under his shirt and down his back. He shivered and wrapped his arms around the other's neck, all but sitting in his lap, not that he minded even a little.

Arthur wondered vaguely whether they'd noticed he was gone, his friends, that is. Probably not. Which, he decided, was a good thing. That way they wouldn't go crazy looking for him and file a report that he was missing or something unnecessary like that, because frankly, Arthur didn't want to be found. Not just yet.