Even though he technically wasn't one of them, which was rather stupid because, hello, dragons, Fizzle still felt a tinge-that-was-totally-just-a-tinge of concern every time Garble pushed them too hard. Garble had perfect justification, a pack needs to be strong not only to protect itself, but also to make sure no others would try contesting that claim. Of course, Fizzle could still be upset because, really, compassion is a thing.
So every time he knew Garble was training his betas, he always trailed along and brought snack and company which was perfectly reasonable since what was better than his company and fresh game. Even Garble had grown to accept it. Sort of. Okay maybe he was still a bit iffy but Fizzle didn't care. After all, he wasn't his alpha.
Like now, for instance. Vex and Clump were flying laps around the mountain ridge while Baff and Spear were sparring, Garble having stepped out for a moment for some 'future leader of the united tribes' business with the elders and father. Fizzle could see how exhausted they all where and, he being who he is and all, decided to call them over.
Because the funny thing is, since he was an omega -not that anyone would know because thank every power he had developed a way to ward off heats and hide his scent- and not a park of the pack, they weren't disobeying Garble by listening to him. Technically. Too bad technicalities didn't save him from large claws attached to angry alphas.
The gemstone snacks and game he brought might, though.
Which probably explained the coiling senses of dread and mild arousal he felt when he heard the telltale beating of wings behind him. And what wings they are because fizzle, even though he sometimes disagreed with the way Garble ran things, wasn't blind and it was totally not his fault that Garble was attractive.
Broad shoulders, piercing yellow eyes, deep crimson coat and hot damn the things Garble could do to him with those huge claws. The cosmos seemed to conspire against him too, since he had also stolen glances at just how much Garble cared for his pack and knew that he was a good leader, deep down.
Stupid perfect everything Fizzle wanted in a dragon. In a lover. In a mate.
Unfortunately, though, Fizzle still wasn't stupid enough to try anything because as much as he was told he wasn't, he knew his place as the outsider, and really, it's not like there was some deep emotional connection.
Garble had that dream again.
An ivory dragon with roseate spines laid beneath him, panting and keening and pushing back against his thrusts, smelling of gems and frost and the forest and home and mate and minemineminemine.
It had, as always, left him a sweaty mess and painfully aroused. He had never seen the face of his dream dragon, of course, fate would not let him off that easily. Which is why he always found Fizzle's presence aggravating, being so close to his destined but so far away.
The scent of the dragon of his dreams was familiar to something deep and bestial inside him, Garble was able to identify it as 'mate' near instantly. Fizzle, however, smelled of strange herbs and something off, something that shouldn't occur in nature.
He rid himself of these thoughts as he approached his betas. Garble gave them the schedule for that day of training and seeing that they started before winging it to commune with the elders. He found himself envious of them, from time to time, wishing he could have had a more normal upbringing, wishing that his mother never died and left the duty of leadership to his father, wishing he wasn't aware of the slow aging of his father with having to raise a youngling by himself and lead the dragon clans.
Yet he could not fully resent his circumstances, for they had taught him to be ready for any hardship.
The meeting with the elders was as tiring and ponderous as always, they often started to repeat themselves after the fourth hour anyway. So with that done he decided to check in on his betas and to his great, eye rolling, predictable surprise, there was Fizzle with them wrapped around his claws.
It was something Garble pondered every time he saw it, the way his pack would turn docile pups in Fizzle's presence. He also pondered why some aspect, some unidentifiable part of fizzle's scent would tell him he was close to home in the same way returning from a hunt did.
His pondering was broken, however, by a slim ivory hand pushed a fresh cut of game in his face. A hand that looked oh so long and lovely and would fit perfectly into his own, which must be why he found himself grasping with one of his own while the other took the proffered game.
A cough interrupted his moment of curiosity, and a glance in eyes as pink and deep as blush wine reminded him that this was Fizzle, the same omega found abandoned and half starved on the borders of their territory, the same omega that had been a constant anomaly in his life since they met when they were both still hatchlings.
With a nod he dropped the other dragon's hand and turned to face his betas. He could tell they had been working hard and decided to give them an early end to the training, seeing them off with a word of reminder of the bonding time tonight in his cave, since the true strength of a pack was the emotional connection of it's members.
All of them.
Even if a certain one still doubted himself.
Fizzle always enjoyed these 'pack plus one' nights, they often go out and hunt, or check out some of the older, less explored parts of the territory, or even travel to a nearby neutral town and enjoy themselves as a group.
Tonight they were doing something of Spear's choosing. Namely, watching stuff on his crystal ball he had acquired at a trading post. Fizzle always brought the things he always brought: his too valuable to have a value company and snacks. Hey, he was an omega, and had a natural penchant for cooking on top of that, hardly his fault for wanting to 'strut his stuff' from time to time.
He arrived there rather early, as always, the only others being Vex and Spear, Vex with his portion of his horde.
It was another tradition, whenever they had these nights where they would stay in another cave, they brought pieces of their own horde to mix scents and deepen the connection.
Fizzle always left before that bit and no, it was only because he kept forgetting, thank you.
Eventually Clump and Garble both made their ways to the cave as well, having gone on a quick check of the boarders in the meantime. Each with pieces of their own horde.
They had sat in a comfortable quiet whilst watching the crystal ball, each of them about waist deep in Spear's horde and in various lounging postures. It was a calm, if uneventful, night.
Garble disliked, no, hated every time he saw Fizzle without a piece of his horde, hated the implications, hated why he felt so strongly about it.
The 'thing' as Spear called it was about some dragon pups going on trips in their mentors carriage. It was called 'the mystic study ship' or something along those lines. The rest of the night passed in a blur, the only other moment Garble really paying attention to was when Fizzle soundlessly excused himself. Again, that cycle of internal hate, why?
So when the time came he and the others shuffled their pieces of horde into Spear's and moved to sleep in the spots that didn't carry their scent. Garble already had his scent on most of the pieces, the duty being a good alpha and good leader was to make sure the pack was accounted for and he could find them in a dire situation, so the face value of the act was moot. Even if he did get a coil of warmth in him knowing his pack was safe for another night.
The next day they had parted ways again, Clump going on a trip to visit family from another tribe and Vex traveling with his parents to go by his father's ancestral grounds, Spear just going to spend the day at the trading post to find more odd- and ends.
Garble, never in the mood to be unproductive, spent the time training himself on one of the higher mountains. What he didn't expect to find, or perhaps he did but didn't want to, was Fizzle already on the mountain and training. Garble enjoyed the sight more than he should: lean, marble white scales twisting and moving like flowing water, roseate spines glowing in the pale early morning light, writhing beneath him panting his name like prayer-stop. Fizzle was a backbone of the pack you need him not consenting to Garble deflowering him with his mind.
So he offered a clipped greeting, startling the other into a clumsy fall. Garble masked his concern with an arch of his brow and an extended hand, helping the other up with no effort and maybe pulling him just the tiniest bit closer than necessary to check for an injury.
He caught himself before his damned mind wandered again, deciding it was totally his place to declare they are training for that morning.
They moved as if in a dance, Garble's broad frame and Fizzle's slender one complementing each other perfectly, both knew almost the exact moment the other change from offense to defense and responding in kind.
While neither would admit it, both were enjoying themselves immensely, the practiced match of tactical combat devolving into a wrestling match, resulting in Fizzle chuckling softly while being pinned underneath the red dragon, convenient considering the larger drake decided to lay there for a while, basking in his small victory and the feeling of being strong enough to protect the smaller.
Not that Fizzle was minding over much, he himself relishing in the raw and primal display of might, pleased that his alpha his destined the one he belongs to completely the future leader of the clans could protect them.
Unfortunately, Fizzle had to return to his cave and rolled out from under the larger drake, leaving with a wave and a word of departure before winging back across the mountain range.
Fizzle couldn't believe how he got himself stuck like this.
He had gotten turned around in the mountains and was now into nighttime and he was hungry from the sparring all day. Though that did not explain why he felt heated and light-headed and unable to stand and oh damn he forgot to take his suppressants and was going into his heat fuckfuckfuck.
And, of course, he just happened to run across feral wyverns even though they weren't supposed to travel this far south because fuckdamnit the universe so totally would be this contrived.
Which, finally, led to him calling for help, acting out every omega stereotype of a distressed, defenseless, in heat prey creature in need of rescuing and yes he was being redundant thank you very much.
Garble sensed it in his bones and may or may not have stormed out of his cave, snarling, and flame spouting from his mouth and nostrils.
Your mate needs you go to him protect him never let any harm come him ever he is your ours minemineminemine.
It came to him in flashes. His arrival, the sight of Fizzle wounded and comatose, the feral wyverns rending like wet paper to his claws, the scent of blood and mate and everything.
He brought Fizzle back to his own cave, tended him and made sure he was okay and made damn sure not to take advantage of him because he needed to be stronger than that for both of them right now.
So he decided to content himself with coiling their tails and pulling Fizzle into his chest, drifting to sleep with the knowledge he had finally found his mate and Fizzle was finally his.
Fizzle awoke sharply, his body wracked with the typical post-heat shivers and cuddled closer to the large heat source that smelt of fire and obsidian and home and comfort and mate ans other wonderful things.
It took him longer than anticipated that heat sources don't move or have a heartbeat or have a scent or have a deep chested grumble that sent the best of tingles down his spine.
That's not accounting for how fast his brain registered Garble saved me when he didn't need, Garble is my mate, this is Garble's cave and I’m in it and I’m his mate and I trust and love him so much now that I am letting myself do just that.
So he decided to lay there and enjoy the feeling of finally belonging, or finally having that missing part of him complete.
They both awoke sometime after that, late in the morning after the betas stopped and shared a knowing smile between themselves because their alpha and their 'pack mom' were finally together.
The dragons laid curled up with each other, sharing content smiles and slow, happy kisses. Fizzle broke apart after a while and rolled on top of Garble whispering that he wants to give himself fully to the one he was meant to be with. Garble sat up against his horde and wrapped his arms and wings around Fizzle in retort, still blissed out from his sheer presence.
The pearl dragon felt his mates arousal press against him and he rocked on it, gliding himself over it until it popped inside and satisfied his emptiness with something that was so much more fulfilling than being full.
Garble let out a low growl as he penetrated his mate, setting an intense pace of pistoning. Their slow love making turning into primal rutting and neither could be happier. Garble holding the other close to his himself and whispering about how I'll make you so full, every living thing will know you are mine and mine alone, stuff my young into you. Do you like that? Belonging to me fully? And Fizzle panting out pleas of yes, fuck me, mate me, show the heavens and hells that I am yours only your always yours yes Garble mate thrusting against his mate's hard and heavy cock, slamming back down and riding him for all he is worth.
They came simultaneously, Garble's knot taking root deep inside Fizzle as he filled him, telling him how happy he is you finally smell like home and mate and mine and I love you more than anything my beautiful omega my perfect mate.
They fell asleep in the same way, Garble deep inside Fizzle, Fizzle cuddled into Garble's chest and both were happier than they ever had been.
Fin
Author's Note
I make no profit from this work, all things mentioned in this are property of Hasbro.
So I decided to make a Garble/Fizzle fic. Yep.
This also has assumptions about the way the dragon pack works. So beware liberties taken.
