Page 35 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

Rowan

Tonight was turning out worse than Rowan had expected.

He was used to being ditched by Ruben, but usually after he got most of his energy out on the dance floor, he’d hang out with Rowan. He would often try to point out shifters he thought Rowan might be interested in and tell him wild stories about the orchestra and his exploits within it. While it wasn’t Rowan’s favorite pastime and watching Ruben dance and flirt with men even bigger than Rowan made him nervous, he did like spending time with his brother.

Tonight was different, though.

Ruben had only come to find him once, and something had been off. He’d been antsy and sort of worked up. After a brief few minutes of stilted conversation, Ruben had disappeared again, dousing any hope Rowan had that they were going to hang out tonight.

Rowan had resigned himself to drinking alone, which was why he had approached the bar in the first place, only to run into and then be once again left alone at the bar by Milo. He didn’t blame Milo, Ray, or even Ruben, for that matter. He was an adult, and he could entertain himself. Milo had been right, though. The club was full to the point of bursting, and there weren’t any tables available, except for one that was practically part of the dance floor.

The event was unsurprisingly popular. He probably should have assumed Milo and Ray would be here, but he hadn’t. So, now he was here, with Ruben in a bad mood and his hawk bobbing incessantly, off-beat from the pounding house music. He’d even begun throwing in a couple of shoulder sways that looked suspiciously like a dance.

Gods, he wished that, for once, he could just be normal. He wanted to follow Milo onto the dance floor. He wouldn’t even mind hanging out with Ray and his prospect of the night. For once, it would just be nice to not feel alone in a crowded room.

Even though it would quite possibly be the worst sensory experience of his life, he was more tempted than he’d ever been before to push himself far outside his comfort zone. Several of his exes had chided him for refusing to do just that. They thought a healthy dose of exposure therapy would “cure” him, as if he hadn’t spent years of his childhood doing that along with a slew of other therapies. He had gotten to a pretty good point in college, when he’d been sharing an apartment with Riley, and they would often sit with their legs pressed together on the couch or their calves touching under their small kitchen table. Then he’d moved out on his own and saw his family less and less. The isolation he’d endured through his mid-twenties had set him back a fair amount, and he hadn’t worked up the courage to start therapy again.

Raina had a therapist, and he was pretty sure Riley did as well, and he would sooner gnaw off his own wing than tell either of them that they were failing.

And yet…

He couldn’t help but feel like needing to restart therapy all these years later was some sign of failure on his part.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about with them,” a voice said from behind Rowan, and he turned to find the bartender pouring a line of tequila shots.

Rowan must have been staring intently at the dance floor, sort of like Milo and their occasional thousand-yard stare. “Do you mean Milo and Ray? I’m not worried.”

The bartender studied him the way only a bartender could. “Good, cause like I said, the two of them have been coming here for over a year, and while Ray seems to meet someone at least half the time, I’ve never seen Milo with anyone. Ever. It’s sweet, really, the way Milo looks out for him. A little overprotective, but Ray’s told me about their schmuck of an ex, so not surprising really.”

“Yeah, he sounds like a piece of work.”

The group of women next to Rowan squealed in excitement as the bartender pushed the shots forward. Rowan had to hold back a snort when he realized they were all attached to a ski. The women arranged themselves in a straight line and, with well-practiced experience, took the shot as a group.

“Bottoms up,” the bartender said, grinning widely when one of the women dropped a ten in his tip jar. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turned to Rowan, and his smile dropped. The smell of gin and tobacco smoke that had been lurking in the background heightened, and Rowan’s hawk gave a soft keen.

“If I ever see him around here, I’ll make sure he never comes back. I don’t stand for that sort of shit, and neither does the owner.”

Rowan took a small breath in through his mouth, trying to avoid the bartender’s alpha pheromones. The fact that he was this worked up over Ray and Milo did something to Rowan’s insides. A strange twist of defensiveness and gratitude that didn’t mix well with the beers and lack of dinner.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

The bartender inclined his head. “Name’s Hank. I’ve seen you ‘round with your brother. Ruben, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him. I’m Rowan.”

Hank quirked an eyebrow. “Ruben and Rowan?”

“We have two sisters who also have R names. And now I guess there’s Ray, too,” Rowan said, even though that wasn’t exactly true. He’d met Ray once and was now seeing him a second time in passing. That hardly warranted mentioning, let alone conflating his name with the family’s.

His hawk gave an admonishing shriek.

Milo had said earlier that Rowan was the kind of friend they would introduce to Ray. And to Ethel, which had damn near taken Rowan out at the knees.

“Pretty soon you’ll need to start using nicknames,” Hank said, and Rowan couldn’t help but laugh.

“We actually tried that when we were kids, but it’s hard to shorten our names into anything that doesn’t also start with an R. Ro, Roo, Rye, Rain.”