Mae wasn't panicking, per se, but it did feel a little like the world was ending when he realized it was his pre-heat that had him feeling all out of whack.

In his defense, it's been nearly a year since he's had his last heat, so it wasn't at the top of the what's-wrong-with-me checklist when he started feeling overstimulated and moody.

It wasn't until a co-worker—an alpha, unsurprisingly—got all up in his personal space and commented on his change in scent that it clicked. It led him to search through his drawers, he usually left a few bottled blockers in his desk for moments like this, but there weren't any and the not-panic really started to set in.

He was in the middle of an office crawling with alphas with little-to-no sense of boundaries on a day Mae was a grouchy, crappy-smelling mess—going through pre-heat. Even with his scarf keeping most change in scent concealed, it felt like he was signing his death sentence.

Of course, said heat blockers seem to be nowhere to be found. Not that he's even sure it would work this late into the cycle.

Mae grabbed his crap and made his way back to the apartment without a second thought, glaring daggers into anyone who so much as looked at him on the walk there and clutching the pepper spray you gave him in his right hand.

Right, you.

Even when he did get back to his apartment, he lived with an alpha. Not that Mae really had the resources or time to not trust you right now. You're better than most of the alphas in the city, he's just going to have to hope it stays like that when he's like this.

He pushed the door open and beelined for the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet only to, again, find nothing. Frustrated, and a little desperate, Mae goes back into the living area, eyes locking on you.

"Did you fuck with my blockers?" It doesn't make sense that he's suddenly out. Or maybe he ran out and forgot to restock—he doesn't know, he can't think right now. "It doesn't matter, I just—I need some. Can you run to the pharmacy?"