Cassian had thought the worst of his day was over.
The fainted omega. The cloying stench of pheromones. The shower, the change of clothes, the effort to lock everything back inside the fortress of his composure. By the time he sat in class, he was sure the storm was contained.
But he had forgotten something crucial: storms always drew foxes.
"Why are you sulking like a brooding gargoyle?"
Cassian turned his head slowly. Altair sat one desk away, chin propped in his palm, eyes gleaming like a cat that had spotted something amusing to play with.
"I'm not sulking," Cassian said flatly.
Altair arched a brow. "Then what's with that face? You look like the world owes you money."
"Perhaps it does," Cassian muttered, flipping open his notebook.
But Altair wasn't deterred. He leaned closer, voice lowering into a conspiratorial lilt. "I heard things."
Cassian's hand stilled on his pen.
"Oh?" His voice was calm, but a warning undercurrent thrummed there.
"Mhm." Altair's smirk widened. "About an omega. In heat. Clinging to you like a desperate vine."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
Altair tilted his head. "Rumors fly fast. But unless you say it yourself, I won't believe them. You, Cassian, reduced to a slave of pheromones? Hardly. You'd sooner die of boredom."
Cassian sighed. He could ignore him—he usually did—but Altair's gaze was piercing, unrelenting, too sharp to let this pass. And despite himself, Cassian didn't want Altair believing half-truths whispered by the halls.
So, he spoke.
"It's true."
Altair blinked. His smirk faltered.
Cassian continued, tone clipped, precise. "An omega in heat approached me at the lockers. Tried to cling. I restrained them, carried them to the nurse. And then," his lips thinned, "I showered. To rid myself of the scent."
The classroom was hushed, their conversation just low enough not to be heard by everyone—yet loud enough for nearby ears to catch the edges.
Altair's eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade drawn.
And then he exploded.
"What?!"
The word cracked across the classroom like a whip. Several heads snapped toward them.
Altair slammed his hand on his desk, voice rising, dripping with indignation. "Who dares? Who dares scheme like that? At you?!" His tone curled into a snarl. "How dare they! Insolent! Uncreative! Reckless! Do they think themselves clever? To use heat as a trap?"
Cassian blinked, caught off guard by the sheer volume, the sheer fury radiating from the fox.
Altair jabbed a finger toward him, ranting with the theatrical passion of someone wronged by the universe. "Unbelievable! Only I am allowed to scheme at you, Cassian! Only me! Who gave them the right to plot? Who told them they could? This is plagiarism of the highest order!"
Cassian's lips twitched, caught between amusement and disbelief.
Altair was still going, his voice climbing higher, his gestures grand. "Do they not understand? Cassian is mine to antagonize! Mine to provoke, mine to debate, mine to torment until I tire of it! How dare some faceless nobody insert themselves into the story like an irrelevant side character thinking they have any importance?!"
By now, the entire class was staring. Some students looked bewildered. Others exchanged whispers, half-scandalized, half-entertained.
"Is he… protecting Cassian?" one murmured.
"He sounds like—" another whispered, then cut off, cheeks flushing.
Altair either didn't notice or didn't care. He was on fire, words tumbling like sparks. "I will not allow anyone—anyone—to mess with my rival. If anyone dares again, they'll answer to me!"
Cassian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the furious fox with something dangerously close to a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His bad mood was dissolving, melted away by Altair's outburst.
"You're overreacting," Cassian said dryly.
"I am not!" Altair snapped, whirling on him, eyes blazing. "This is a matter of principle! Do you know how insufferable it would be if you fell to such a pathetic trick? People would think you're predictable. Boring. Just another alpha with no control. And I refuse to have a boring rival!"
Cassian couldn't stop it this time. His lips curved upward, a small, genuine smile breaking through. "So this is about your pride?"
"It's about everything!" Altair shouted, before realizing how that sounded. His face flushed, but he recovered instantly, tossing his hair back with a flourish. "Don't twist my words. You know nothing."
Cassian hummed, clearly amused. "I know you sound… protective."
"I am not protective!" Altair roared, face red. "I am proprietary! There is a difference!"
The class was silent, watching like they were witnessing a play. Some students exchanged baffled looks. Others simply stared at Altair like he'd grown another head.
Cassian, however, was relaxed for the first time that day. He rested his chin on his hand, watching Altair rage, his storm-cloud mood dissipating under the fox's fire.
"You're ridiculous," he said softly, almost fond.
"And you're infuriating!" Altair shot back without missing a beat. "Always so calm, so smug. Do you enjoy making me yell? Is that it?"
"Maybe," Cassian admitted.
Altair spluttered. "You—! Ugh!" He dragged his hands through his hair, glaring at him as though Cassian were the greatest thorn in existence. "I hate you!"
"You say that a lot," Cassian murmured, lips curving.
Altair opened his mouth to retort, but the door slid open.
The teacher entered, books tucked under his arm. "Settle down, everyone."
A hush fell instantly. Students straightened in their seats, though several still shot curious glances at Altair and Cassian.
Altair clicked his tongue, whipping his head away with all the grace of a sulking prince. He folded his arms and stared resolutely at the board.
Cassian, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, the faintest trace of laughter in his ocean eyes.
For the first time that day, he felt lighter. The fox had stolen his storm.