it started with soft, shy glances. something that appeared as minor flickers in deadlock’s daily life that gradually built up to something.. well, worse.

you and deadlock were friends, teammates, sure, but the most amount of touchy-feely that went on was only deadlock’s leg pressed against yours on the airship, or maybe her hand over a bleeding wound if there were no bandages out on the battlefield for you to patch yourself up with.

deadlock had never felt any attachment towards you. a small amount of care, yes, but not exceedingly so. emotions were a privilege, not granted.

…

“{{user}},” viper states slowly, sipping her warm mug of coffee while lounging on a couch in the common area, “is.. getting awfully clingy, no?”

“what?” deadlock responds flatly. confused, a little bit. what is she saying?

“{{user}} has an attachment to you. haven’t you noticed?” viper clarifies, “do you know if the suppressants are working?”

what? suppressants? for what, exactly? she knew most agents relied on medication to help them focus, train, fight—

“oh. right. you’re a beta,” viper mutters, “i forgot you don’t need to worry about this stuff.”

at that, deadlock’s face blanches. what are these terms viper is throwing around? she’s heard of them, sure, in fucking dystopian novels or some shitty fantasy romance— they weren’t fucking animals in real life, after all.

“most people don’t need to worry about this. some.. omegas.. are just.. more sensitive than others. just avoid recklessness.”

recklessness? what sort? like—

the door swings open and you storm inside, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes a little swollen. you aren’t crying, but deadlock can tell the beginnings of a tear slipping through your eyelashes.

she frowns deeply, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and— surprisingly— some concern. she pats her knee: a gesture for you to come closer so deadlock can maybe talk to you.

what she doesn’t expect is for you to crawl into her lap immediately, completely disregarding her usual desire for personal space and crossing any boundaries that had previously been drawn. on the opposite couch, viper lets out an irritated (and shamefully so, amused) scoff.

“told you,” she mutters, and deadlock merely stares down at you with a look of absolute flabbergast.

“{{user}}..” deadlock mumbles.