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octopationaltherapy · 5 months ago

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A Vinter Boy Chapters 3 and 4

Original Omegaverse fiction. Alpha/Alpha. Alpha/Omega. Omega/Omega. M/M. M/M/M. Background F/F, M/F, M/M relationships.

Lots and Lots of Spanking

TW: Eating disorders, past sexual abuse, past child sexual abuse

Read on AO3

Asher groans when Darius clicks the light on, and he knew the boy would. It is seven o’ clock. This was the time his boarders had awoken when his school was in session, so it is the time Asher wakes, too.

“Time to get up, Asher.” Darius says dryly and the boy covers his face with a pillow.

“Now, Asher.” Darius warns, and pulls it easily from the boy’s grip.

Asher looks up at him bleary-eyed. A whine breaks from his throat.

“Tired.” He signs and Darius snorts.

“I bet you are.” He replies easily. “Whose fault is that?”

Asher doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls another pillow from the nest in front of the headboard, and uses it to block the light.

“You seem confused, Asher,” Darius says. “So allow me to clear things up. You are going to get out of this bed whether you like it or not, your choice is in whether that happens with or without a spanking.”

Asher pulls the pillow away from his face and looks up at the doctor, one ear raised.

Really? It’s a question.

“I am serious, Asher.” Darius says simply.

With a groan, the boy tosses the pillow back into the pile and rolls onto his front, stretching his limbs like a dog awoken from a nap. When that is done, he rises from the bed, and looks at Darius expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“Good boy.” Darius praises.

Breakfast is already prepared when the pair arrive in the kitchen: a pot of oatmeal left on the stove to warm. Asher takes his seat at the table without being asked, sitting in a slumped, pouting posture, and Darius fetches a bowl for each of them.

Asher pushes it away when it is set in front of him.

“Half.” Darius says firmly, sliding the bowl back in front of the boy. “Anything less will find you at one.”

The boy picks up his spoon with a huff, and begins to spoon the porridge into his mouth at a snail-creep pace. Darius notes with satisfaction that the food does make it to the boy’s mouth, however.

He is about to take his own seat at the boy’s right when the doorbell rings. Darius checks his watch, and feels disappointment creep into his chest; twelve hours have indeed passed.

“Stay seated and eat while I answer the door.” Darius instructs, and makes for the foyer.

“How was he?” Allison asks when Darius opens the door, foregoing a proper greeting.

“Better than I expected.” Darius answers, voice low to keep the boy from hearing as he leads Allison to the kitchen.

“I knew if anyone could do it, it was gonna be you.” Allison is saying as the pair cross the threshold. She says more, but Darius’s attention is drawn to the inu at the table behind her.

He had been waiting, expectant, for the pair to enter, spoon poised over his bowl of oatmeal. When Allison came into view, a grin spread over his face and his tail began making quiet thumps against the chair’s wooden frame. As Allison speaks, he makes eye contact with Darius and drops his spoon into his bowl, slumping back against his chair to abandon the meal.

“Allison.” Darius says at once, cutting the beta off mid-sentence. “I beg your pardon, but could we please speak privately?”

Allison blinks, caught off guard.

“Sure.” She says. “In the living room or-?”

“On the porch if that’s alright.” Darius answers, and leads the beta out through the french doors on the sidewall of the kitchen.

The air is cool when they step outside, and wet with morning dew. Darius watches The hybrid through the French doors as he speaks.

“What placement have you secured for the boy?” He asks.

Asher is sitting with his arms crossed, head turned away from the pair, but one ear points backward, no doubt listening to their conversation.

“Respite houses.” Allison says flatly.

“And you expect him to stay in the respite house for how long?”

“Not house,” Allison corrects. “Hous-es. I’ve got three lined up to take him, and I’m just hoping that will see him through to Tuesday Morning, so I can spend Monday making calls.”

Vinter watches the boy through the glass panes. His tail begins wagging, gently, at the mention of alternative housing.

“You only need him housed until Tuesday, then?” He asks slowly.

“For now.” Allison replies. “I can’t do anything until the offices open on Monday. I’ve taken the whole day off just to make phone calls.”

Darius watches the boy, whose tail slowly stills. His other ear points backward.

“I don’t think it would be too much trouble to keep the boy until Tuesday morning.” He says. “If it would buy you some time.”

“Really?” Allison asks, voice light and breathy with relief. “Darius, that would be amazing!”

“Just until Tuesday.” Darius reminds.

“Of course!” Allison agrees readily. “Thank you, Darius, really. It’s such a relief to know he’ll be in good hands until I can figure something out.”

Asher, in the kitchen, has stilled entirely, hairs bristled on the back of his neck. He turns his head to look at the pair on the porch, wide-eyed and anxious, in the silence before Darius speaks.

Darius meets his gaze and smiles, victorious, and the inu drops his gaze to his lap.

“It would be a pleasure to keep the boy a few more days.” He says, still watching him.

“May I ask what brought on this change of heart?” Allison asks, humor in her voice. “Though, I can probably guess.”

“Guess correctly, I’m sure.” Darius snorts. “It happened just after two in the morning. I caught him trying to pick the lock on the front door.”

Allsion snorts.

“Ballsy.”

“That’s not all.” Darius says, gleeful, turning his head to look at Allison. “He spoke to me!”

The beta’s eyes widen.

“He spoke?” She asks. “You got him to speak?”

“I did!” Darius boasts, ecstatic. “He told me to eat shit and die.”

Allison snorts.

“Before or after you put him over your knee?” She asks.

“During.” Darius replies. “And, honestly, that was the least of it. That boy has a foul mouth.”

Allison laughs.

“Did you get him to apologize?”

“I did.” Darius says. “But not in the typical way. He has periods of echolalia, did you know that?”

“We did not.” Allison answers. “But the insults, that was real speech?”

“I believe so.” Darius says. “Though it’s difficult to tell so early on. I do believe he’s on the spectrum, though.”

“So does everyone else.” Allison snorts. “But we can’t know if he won’t comply.”

“Yes, well.” Darius says, grinning. “In any case, I think we ought to break the news to the boy. He’ll likely be a bit disappointed.”

“Likely.” Allison agrees, and the alpha leads the pair back inside.

“Alright, Asher.” Allison says warmly, and the boy looks up with a jolt, eyes darting between alpha and beta. “Dr. Vinter is going to take care of you for a few more days while I figure out something more permanent, okay? Be a good boy for him.”

The boy’s mouth opens, then closes, as he looks between the pair.

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Asher?” Allison asks with a tilt of the head. Her voice is lilted high and almost sing-song in faux sympathy.

Asher shakes his head.

“Then, I’m off.” She says. “Bye Asher, bye Dr. Vinter.”

“Goodbye Dr. Flowers.” Darius grins, and takes his seat at the head of the table as the beta sees herself out.

“Finish you breakfast, Asher.” He says, and grins at the miserable way the boy picks up his spoon.

Chapter 3

In those days, Vinter rose at half past five in the morning, and his brats rose at seven. He always rose early, however, for the first breakfast of each boarder he took.

The morning was a treasured time for the doctor. Many thought of him as strict to the point of cruel with his boarders, as delighting in their misery and celebrating the opportunity to discipline them. Such assumptions were not without merit, but Vinter enjoyed doting on his omegas as much as he enjoyed penalizing them- perhaps even more.

Outside the manor walls, it wasn’t known that the doctor prepared all of his omega’s meals from scratch. It wasn’t known that he took note of favorite foods and birthdays, as well as texture aversions and allergies, and planned an ever-changing menu around them. Not even the traditional students, who witnessed the doctor rearing his brats firsthand, who were in the doctor’s charge themselves for three hours a day, five days a week, knew exactly how intricately he nurtured the boarders during their stay at his manor.

The doctor got little time to himself, which made the hour and a half alone in the kitchen even more precious. At times he would play music, low and quiet so as not to disturb the omegas upstairs, who were often fitful sleepers; most often, however, he kept the kitchen quiet and dark, using only the light above the sink to illuminate the room, and enjoyed the stillness of the manor.

The manor was so rarely still, always buzzing with laughter or yelling or arguments (good-natured or otherwise). There was hardly a calm moment during the day; even when the manor was quiet (and it sometimes even managed to be silent!) it still vibrated with the unease and frustration of teenage omegas, plucked from the lives they once knew and placed into one too rigid for their comfort.

Vinter wasn’t as heartless as his charges tended to believe. He did pity them, especially in their first weeks. Every boarder was different, but the doctor expected them to be quiet and fidgety when they arrived, the stench of stress following them as they tread from room to room, large, round eyes watching everything around them. At certain times with certain students, it was difficult not to want to comfort them physically, to hold them and scent them in the crook of his shoulder until their heartbeats settled and their pheromones receded; though he knew it would be neither appropriate nor productive.

He poured his affection, instead, into cuisine. Each of his boarders had filled out an interest inventory prior to their stay, and for good measure their parents or guardians had filled one out separately for them as well. It listed favorite foods, favorite colors, hobbies, and interests, as well as things they disliked, or that they were afraid of. He surprised each of them with their favorite breakfast the morning after their first night, and relished the looks on their faces when they, many having come from hospitals or juvenile correction facilities, received the first piece of evidence that Dr. Vinter’s care was different in more ways than one.

Alexander’s interest inventory was blank.

It was returned, with a date and the signature of his foster mother in the bottom corner, but the boy had not answered a single question. Additionally, he had been placed in the home only a week before, so neither of his foster parents were able to answer the questions either. Vinter had thrown his head back and groaned when he’d found it, mirroring the gesture he’d seen hundreds of times in the armchair across from him

The boarders were still tucked into bed, none rose this early. It was an advantage of his alphan biology; the doctor only needed about six hours of sleep each night, while an adult omega needed closer to ten. As adolescents, his boarders’ bodies craved even more, still growing as they were. It was one of the more convenient facts of biology, a holdover from primitive societies wherein alphas served as hunters, betas as gatherers, and omegas cared for children. Omegan bodies were best served by a biphasic sleep cycle; a long sleep at night and then a shorter one midday. This worked well to keep them safe and warm in the homestead with the little ones; and it worked well to keep them out of Vinter’s hair for a few hours of the day so that he could get some work done.

It was just past four in the morning, the windows were still dark, and Dr. Vinter sat at his desk in his office to plan the day ahead. Alexander’s file lay open in front of him.

The boy’s file was thick, as was the case for most of his boarders, detailing a history of violence and petty crime dating back to his childhood in England. He’d had a few stays in hospitals, and one in juvenile corrections, but mostly he was handed off from foster home to foster home for infractions that, while bad, warranted neither an intervention from the justice system nor a behavioral health institute. Most often, it was bullying- or, rather, suspected bullying.

The boy was a loner by all accounts, and all of his cohabitants were afraid of him by the end of his first week, wherever he went. The hospitals detailed plenty of physical altercations, but it was often unclear who started them. The corrections facility noted less fights, but made up for it with the contraband found in the boy’s bunk. The foster homes never caught any of it, and were only able to piece together uninformed hypotheses using the accounts of his tight-lipped victims, and the bruises on their skin. With no evidence, he was simply shuffled off to the next one.

These kinds of stories were nothing new to Vinter. Every brat who passed through his care had their own file, filled with stories that ranged from concerning to entertaining. He hadn’t met one he couldn’t tame yet, and found the details of their misdeeds mostly unimportant. He took such care to obtain a piece of the omega’s lives beyond their wrongdoings because without it there was simply nowhere to start.

His goal, after all, was not simply to extinguish the undesirable behaviors of his wards. He could do so if he wanted, and likely in half the time it took him to rear one of his brats, but it would leave them depressed and afraid- and worse, accepting of whatever conditions found them when they left his care. To properly train an omega, you had to nourish parts of them and prune others. You fed their hearts, their wit, their closely guarded vulnerability, and you kept your sheers sharp enough that they hardly noticed when their anger and cynicism fell from their stalks to the ground. Any connection he could glean from their intake paperwork was an angle to try, something that could be nurtured into an actual relationship; a rapport. Without such a bond, trying to get them to do anything at all was hopeless, or close to it.

Alexander’s file was completely devoid of anything besides transgressions and diagnoses. Darius Vinter was without an opening gambit.

He tapped his fingers on the desk and tried to recall anything he had learned about the boy since meeting him. Excluding his ill-fated argument with Margaret, he hadn’t talked to anyone, though David and Collin had extended an appropriate amount of friendliness and Tom, seated next to him at dinner, had helpfully explained the schedule. He hadn’t seemed afraid, either, which was its own angle to play. Instead, he seemed mostly irritated and withdrawn- and perhaps impatient, as though biding his time until some kind of promised reprieve. His clinical interview hadn’t been much more enlightening, his answers as limited as he could manage around the doctor’s probing. There was an angle, however; solitary and feeble though it were.

The boy had arrived the night before with three garbage bags of belongings. Clothes filled about half of the first, and the rest was filled by books. Two and a half trash bags filled with books! Vinter had found himself impressed. He had boarded the occasional bookworm, a more quiet type of defiant than he was used to, and always a challenge compared to the more outgoing ones; but he didn’t think he’d ever had a student who lugged such a collection from placement to placement. If there was a place to start, it was within the three garbage bags downstairs.

He’d left them at his desk in the parlor. When the day properly started, a tech would be seated there, and would search through them to ensure that none had been hollowed out to smuggle in contraband while Darius attended his wards. There was no reason he couldn’t take a peek earlier, though.

The bags were tucked under the desk, kept out of sight and hopefully out of mind of the boarders. The first, open and half-empty with the boy’s clothes removed, sat on top of the pile, and Darius reached for it.

He pulled the first book from it, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a copy of Wuthering Heights. He flipped through it, and found that it was annotated throughout with the boy’s handwriting in blue pen. He paused to read a couple of the notes, and found that they ranged from insightful commentary to childish jokes. He placed it on the desk and reached for the next, which was A Tale of Two Cities, and found its margins to be filled with its own set of annotations in the same blue ink. He reached for the next, and then the next, and then the next.

The boy’s entire collection consisted of classic literature, mostly English. He had the entire bibliography of Dickens, Austen, and the Brontë sisters, including short stories and lesser known works; but plenty of more obscure authors featured alongside them, such as Wilkie Collins and Elizabeth Gaskell. The boy seemed to have a love of Victorian fiction, especially melodrama.

The half-empty bag, as well as the one that followed, contained books that were, as Vinter would describe them, “well-loved.” Their covers were worn, their pages soft, and many had the boy’s scent (chamomile and vanilla) embedded deeply into them. The last was full of books the boy had never touched, at least as far as Vinter could tell. Some were shiny, new and hardback, but most were used- slightly worn and smelling like a consignment shop, the dusty smell these things default to when they contain too many scents to be parsed properly. They were the same kind of dense literature as the first two bags; War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, Madame Bovary. There was not a Hunger Games, or Harry Potter or even Chronicles of Narnia among them; nothing contemporary, and nothing for children or adolescents.

Darius Vinter was surprised. Darius Vinter was impressed. Darius Vinter still had no idea what to make the boy for breakfast. He sighed aloud, and replaced the makeshift library under the desk.

He pulled out his phone to consult Google, but the terms “English breakfast foods” only returned recipes for a Full English aimed at Americans who were unfamiliar. “English breakfast for children” returned the same in smaller portions, alongside nutritional information regarding children from British institutions for health. He finally tried “English pastries” and found a few promising results, though few were truly English. He decided, finally, on Chelsea buns, filled with custard and dried apricot. After all, no omega would prefer a full English breakfast over a pastry.

Pastries from yeast dough were a favorite of Vinter’s to make. The time it took for the dough to rise, for the dish to bake, allowed him to get some work done, and they were always a hit with the boarders. Omegan palettes were suited for carbs, and anything sweet appealed to them. Their bodies were designed to prioritize storing fat the way the doctor’s own was suited to build muscle. Vinter could never resist an opportunity to show off for them.

Vinter slid the tray into the oven exactly as the microwave’s digital display, switched over to seven o’ clock, and then he was up the stairs to wake his brats.

Morning was announced with a shout down the hall and a knock on each door. From there, the boarders’ punctuality was their own responsibility. Some were already awake, waiting for the doctor’s call to signal that they were free to leave their dorms. Some never woke on time, and were pulled from their beds only when they were sufficiently late to breakfast. Alarm clocks were kept on the nightstand next to every bed, but setting them before half past six was forbidden, and many of the grumpy risers preferred to enlist the help of their roommates instead. As the doctor descended the stairs, it was only Samantha and Gabriel that padded behind him.

”What’s for breakfast?” The girl yawned

”Chelsea buns.” The doctor replied.

”What’s that?”

”It’s similar to a cinnamon roll.”

”But different how?”

”It’s filled with dried fruit along with custard.” Vinter answered as the trio filed into the kitchen. “You’ll like it, Samantha.”

“Who’s the nurse today?” Gabriel asked.

”Marcy.”

”She here yet?”

”Yes, but she only just arrived, so give her a bit of time.”

Gabriel snorted.

”Marcy always needs time, doesn’t she?”

”Better than Deb.” Samantha responded flatly, gathering her hair over one shoulder.

”At least Deb is fast.” Gabriel retorted.

Samantha rolled her eyes.

”Maybe I like being late for group.” She snarked, “Ever think of that?”

”Careful what you let slip, Samantha.” Vinter warned. “And the only reason you lot don’t like Deborah is because you can’t wrap her around your fingers.”

“Sometimes when my head hurts I’d like to be given a Tylenol, Vinter.” Samantha replied. “Instead of being told ‘you’re fine, go back to class.’”

”It wouldn’t hurt as often if you drank more water.”

The others filed in one-by-one, and formed a queue outside the nurse’s station to have their vitals taken. Margaret arrived well-dressed and fully made up, as always. Tom came downstairs freshly showered, and Robin followed shortly after in lounge clothes (he had learned early on that he would not be permitted to spend the day in pajamas). Joshua was in line before Vinter had even known he was awake, creeping through the manor quietly as he did. David and Collin scrambled down the stairs with fifteen minutes to spare, and the latter skidded to a stop in front of the doctor.

”Who’s the nurse?” Collin asked.

”Marcy.” Vinter responded.

”Marcy.” Collin repeated, wincing, and filed into the line behind David.

”I’ll try to be quick.” David whispered as Collin reached his side, but it didn’t seem to improve his disposition.

That left only Alexander.

Dr. Vinter prided himself on maintaining a certain amount of rigor in his practice, but if there was a time for leniency, it was within the first twenty-four hours of a student’s stay. It was a lot to take in, he knew; more rules, more structure, and more responsibility than most of them had ever known before, and he wanted things to be fair. This is what he told himself as he ascended the stairs for Alexander.

”Alexander!” He called, knocking on the boy’s dorm. “Are you up?”

There was no response. Vinter furrowed his brow, and took deep breaths in through his mouth, scenting the air. The boy’s chamomile scent was present, muted behind the door. He was in his dorm, but not answering, perhaps asleep. Vinter knocked again.

”Alexander?” He called. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Nothing, still. He knocked again, and turned the knob.

”Alexander, I’m coming in.”

The door swung open to reveal Alexander, awake and dressed, sitting on his bed. He had a book, small and thin enough to fit in his pocket, open in his lap. He spoke when the doctor entered the room, with the audacity to sound annoyed.

”What do you want?”

Vinter narrowed his eyes.

”Didn’t you hear me knocking?” He asked. “Why didn’t you answer?”

The boy shrugged.

”Didn’t feel like it.”

Vinter hummed.

”Well, that’s one.” He said. “And you’ll be receiving another shortly when you end up late for breakfast. We’re off to a bad start, aren’t we?”

”Not late for breakfast.” Alexander rebutted, gesturing to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s seven fifty and breakfast is at eight. You should know, it’s on your schedule.”

”Yes, but you’ve got to see the nurse for vitals.” Vinter replied, grinning. “And David and Collin are in front of you in line.”

The boy exhaled a growl as he rose from his bed, and stuffed the book into the pocket of his slacks.

”We have to do vitals?” He muttered. “I thought this wasn’t a hospital.”

”It isn’t.” Vinter replied, closing the boy’s door behind them. “It’s also not really a school and not really a corrections facility. It’s a hybrid of all three, and we use practices from all of them at my discretion. You would know if you had paid attention at dinner.”

”Yeah, yeah.”

”You were also supposed to submit all of your belongings to be inspected by staff when you arrived last night.”

”I did.”

”Not the book in your pocket.” Vinter countered. “Give it here.”

Alexander growled, and pulled the book from his pocket, holding it out for the doctor.

”It’s Sherlock Holmes.” He spat. “Pocket edition. Perfectly appropriate. Was I supposed to go to bed without anything to read?”

Vinter took the book from the boy’s hand, and flipped through it. It was, indeed, a pocket-sized edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It’s spine was bent, front cover trapped in a permanent curl towards the back so that it couldn’t properly close. Satisfied, he handed it back.

”One night would not have killed you, Alexander.” He responded flatly. “And you ought to be very careful with that attitude, one more slip of the tongue will find you back over my knee.”

Alexander didn’t respond, taking his place in line behind Collin, now the only person waiting outside the nurse’s station. Vinter made his way to the oven, and pulled out the tray of pastries. They were a perfect golden brown.

”Doctor!” Came a call from the nurse’s station, mousey and quiet. Even when she was shouting, Marcy’s voice sounded more like a whisper.

”What is it Marcy?”

”What’s for breakfast? I need to know for David’s insulin.”

”Ah, yes. It’s Chelsea buns.”

”What’s a Chelsea bun?”

”It’s like a cinnamon roll.” Vinter replied. “Four units ought to do it, he’s usually low in the mornings, yeah?”

“Got it!”

With that, the doctor began plating breakfast. He walked them, four at a time, to the table, balanced on his arms. He placed them in front of Margaret, Gabriel, Joshua, and Robin, then looked around, brow furrowed.

”Where’s Samantha?” He asked. “She was up this morning.”

“She said she left her journal in her dorm.” Tom replied, cutting into his pastry with his fork. Vinter sighed.

”Well, she’d better find it before she finds herself late.”

David took his seat then, finished with the nurse.

”What’s a Chelsea bun?” He asked. “Something sweet?”

”It’s like a cinnamon roll.” Vinter replied, making his way back to the stove to retrieve a piece for David. As he placed it in front of the boy, Collin came clambering up to the table.

”Time?” He asked.

”Seven fifty-eight.” Vinter grinned, checking his watch. “You’ve made it, just barely.”

It was a quarter past eight when Alexander finally emerged from the nurse’s station, collapsing into a chair at the end of the table without a word. Vinter noted that he had selected the only seat that had no one next to it, an empty chair separating him from Robin. He was plating a pastry for the boy when he heard Samantha’s footsteps pounding down the staircase, and plated a piece for her as well.

”Mind if I sit?” She asked breathlessly, standing behind the empty chair next to Alexander.

”Do what you want.” Alexander responded flatly, and Vinter heard the chair scrape the tile as it was pulled away from the table.

”I thought it was pretty awesome.” Samantha said, voice low and heavy with the importance of a secret. “When you kicked Maggie’s ass last night.”

Vinter stilled at the island stove, peeled his eyes upward to watch the pair, and waited. Alexander sat with one arm slung over the back of his chair, and eyed the girl up and down. A grin broke over his face.

”Oh, you hate her, don’t you?” He asked, his own voice a whisper.

”I share a room with her.” Samantha responded, wrinkling her nose. “It was about time.”

Alexander snorted.

“How’s your stay so far?” Samantha continued. “I bet Vinter tore into you for that.”

Alexander shrugged.

”It’s fine, it’s whatever.” He said, gaze cast down. “I won’t be here long.”

”What makes you say that?”

”Oh, I’m never anywhere long.” He replied. “I give it two weeks, the doctor will get sick of me and pass me off to someone new.”

”Good luck, dude.” Samantha snorted. “That doesn’t work on Vinter. The worse you are, the more he likes you. The only way to get out is to be good and bore him”

Vinter took this opportunity to cross the room, placing the pair’s breakfasts in front of them.

”That’s exactly why I’m so fond of you, isn’t it, Samantha?” He grinned. “And you’re at one for profanity, and two for tardiness.”

He turned to retrieve his own breakfast, and the pair’s conversation continued.

”Is there a word said in this house that that man doesn’t hear?” Alexander asked, dour.

”A few, but not many.” Samantha snarked. “One day there’s gonna be something you’re glad he overheard, though. He’s really not that bad when you get used to him.”

Alexander only snorted in reply.

”I’m not gonna ask what you did,” Samantha said after a moment. “Since you punched Maggie for it, but it must have been pretty bad, right?”

“Maybe.” Said Alexander, noncommittal.

”It was.” Samantha replied. “The out-of-state students are the worst, I think, he only takes them if they’re really bad. If you’re from England you must have done something crazy.”

Alexander was quiet for a moment. He tapped his fork against the tablecloth.

”Who’s out-of-state?” He asked.

”Robin, Tom, and Maggie.” She responded. “Tom’s pretty chill, but he’s been here a while. Based on what he’s said, he was out of control back in New York. Robin’s from Chicago, he’s mostly just quiet but he has a lot of crazy stories. And then Maggie is Maggie.”

”That she is.” Alexander sneered. “Which one is Robin?”

”Redhead.”

”Can I help you?” The boy in question asked.

He was seated next to Samantha and he leaned his face on his hand, elbow propped on the table. His tone was flat, unaffected, and his expression was bored.

“Keep hearing my name.” He said.

”Just telling the new kid you’re the worst one.” Samantha grinned, and the boy grinned back.

”That’s not true.” He replied in the same flat tone. “I’m a good boy, right Tom?”

“I don’t want to get a warning for lying.” Tom responded, not looking up from his plate.

”Good choice, Tom.” Vinter chirped, playful, from the head of the table.

”I’m good, Vinter, right?” Robin pressed.

“No one is good or bad.” The doctor replied. “You choose to behave well or poorly, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Robin whispered, wrinkling his nose. He pushed his plate toward the girl. “Sammie, you want this?”

”You don’t want it?”

“Too sweet.” He replied.

“But you‘ll be hungry.”

”I ate my dairy and my protein. I’ll be fine.”

”Sure, then.” She replied, and the boy slid his untouched pastry onto her plate.

“You like these, right?” Samantha asked. “I’ll give you half if you want.”

”Chelsea buns?” Alexander asked. “They’re alright. Bit sweet for me.”

Vinter grimaced from his place across the table.

”He usually makes something special on your first day.” Samantha replied. “What did you put on your sheet?”

”Sheet?”

”The interest questionnaire thing.”

”Ah.” The boy replied. “Didn’t fill it out.”

”What?” Samantha asked. “And he just let you?”

The boy shrugged.

“Hasn’t brought it up, yet.” He said. “Besides, it won’t matter much, since I’ll be leaving soon.”

Samantha snorted, but Robin turned to face the boy.

”What’s your plan for that?” He asked, voice low and gravely serious. His eyes, so brown they were almost black, watched Alexander’s face with intense scrutiny. Alexander fidgeted in his seat.

”That’s just what always happens.” He replied. “They always send me somewhere else before a month is up.”

“Happens why?” Robin pressed, voice still low as he glanced over his shoulder at the doctor, who kept his gaze averted to disguise his interest.

”Conflict, mostly.” Alexander snorted. “I don’t play well with others.”

Robin said nothing. He kept his gaze fixed on Vinter, and tapped his fingers against the tabletop. Then, he exhaled, and resituated himself to sit facing forward.

”Fighting wouldn’t work.” He muttered under his breath, but he didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular.

Alexander turned his focus back to Samantha.

”What did you say Robin did?” He asked.

”You have to ask him yourself.” She replied. “We get in trouble for sharing that stuff. It’s a HIPAA thing.”

Alexander watched the redhead, his own eyes narrowed. Robin looked up, expression dour, and gave a sarcastic wave. Alexander turned back to Samantha.

”What about the others?’’

“That’s Josh.” She said, pointing, “He’s mute, but he can hear. Vinter’s going to make you learn some ASL, so get ready for that. He’s pretty cool, pretty laid back. The tall one is Gabe, he was a day student, but he got moved to boarding for fighting.”

”Gabe’s an omega?”

”Yeah, he’s just tall. Vinter only works with omegas.”

”What about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?”

“David and Collin?” Samantha asked, laughing. “They’re cool. David’s really nice, and Collin is funny but he can be annoying.”

Alexander tapped his fork on the table.

”Is David the narc?”

”What?” Samantha asked, caught off guard. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

”He’s got that look about him.” Alexander answered, gaze cast across the table. “And he sits right next to Vinter.”

Samantha tilted her head from side to side.

”I’ve seen him cover for Collin.” She said. “I don’t think he’s like that, but he is kind of a goody-two-shoes, I guess. Maybe I wouldn’t know.”

”David’s not a rat.” Robin replied. His voice was flat, and he looked at neither of them as he spoke. “He’s just a good kid.”

“Do you know what he did?” Alexander asked Samantha, ignoring Robin.

”I know what Collin did, he’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. I don’t think I’ve ever asked David.”

”What about Josh?”

“I think Josh was fighting.”

”Careful, Samantha.” Vinter warned from the head of the table. “You know you can’t share those things for other people. Perhaps we should choose a more appropriate subject for discussion.”

”Sorry.” Samantha called back, and a moment passed in silence. Alexander watched the doctor.

”So ‘careful’ isn’’t a warning?” He asked.

”’Careful’ means you’re about to get a warning.”

”And after three warnings he spanks you?”

”Usually, but not always.” Samantha replied. “He’ll do something else if spankings don’t work.”

”How do you make a spanking not work, then?” Alexander asked, voice an eager whisper.

Samantha snorted.

”Talk to Robin.”

Alexander eyed the redhead for a moment, silent. Then, he spoke, voice hushed.

”Robin, how do you-“

”Call him ‘Daddy’ during.” The boy grinned, and a blush rose to Alexander’s face.

”Samantha, Alexander, and Robin, is that conversation appropriate?” Vinter called from across the table. Alexander began to stammer.

”Sammie and me are just trying to explain the rules to the new kid.” Robin replied easily. “It’s a big adjustment, you know.”

Vinter hummed.

“That isn’t what it sounded like from here.” He responded. “Do we need a warning for lying, Robin?”

”Not lying.” The boy responded. “Ask Sammie.”

“Samantha?” Vinter probed, and the girl startled, peering back with wide eyes.

”He’s telling the truth.” She said. “He was making a joke about it.”

Vinter tapped his fingers on the table.

”Let’s be more careful with our jokes from now on, Robin.” He said, and then returned to his conversation at the other end of the table. Robin turned to Alexander.

”Not a joke.” He whispered. “But the other stuff is worse, just so you know.”

After breakfast was group therapy. When the school-year rolled around, this block would be replaced with finishing lessons for both the boarders and day students; and Vinter would hold group in the afternoon, when the day students had gone home and he was alone with his brats.

Vinter preferred to hold group in the parlor, where he could see all of his students easily, and that was where he held it today. With adequate pleading (and appropriate weather), he could be convinced to hold it outdoors; and Samantha had asked, as she always did in the summers, but the ground was far too soggy and the furniture too wet from the previous night’s storm. Besides, if he did it too often, it stopped serving as an incentive to behave.

His boarders filed up one by one to his desk for their day sheets: a worksheet they filled out every morning after breakfast and every evening just before bed. The sheet asked them to rank their mood on a scale of one to ten, list any physical pain they were in, and set a goal for the day. Similar sheets were used in hospitals and intensive outpatient programs, and Vinter found them useful for his boarders, who, more often than not, struggled with some form of mental illness alongside their behavior disorders.

”This is your day sheet.” Vinter said to Alexander as the boy reached the front of the line. “You’ll fill one out every-“

”I’ve done it before.” Alexander responded curtly, and snatched the paper from the doctor’s hand. Vinter smiled serenely.

”Careful, Alexander.” He warned, sing-song and gleeful. “Keep in mind that you reached two before breakfast.”

Alexander said nothing in response, which was one of the smarter options he had at his disposal. The rest of the boarders took their sheets one by one until Samantha, at the back of the line, reached Vinter’s desk. The girl took the paper he held out for her, pinched it between her forefinger and thumb, and then she hovered there, eyes narrowed, and didn’t move.

”Do you need something, Samantha?” Vinter asked dryly.

”You’ve got marks on your arm.” She said, barely above a whisper, and grinned.

”Find your seat, Samantha.”

”Those weren’t there yesterday.”

”Be careful, Samantha.”

”Was it nails or teeth?”

”That makes three, Samantha.” Vinter grinned. “Find your seat.”

The girl huffed, and turned from the doctor’s desk.

”Vinter’s got new marks.” She called as she made her to her usual seat: A sofa pushed against the right wall. “Who did it?”

Vinter hummed.

”And now we’re at four.”

”How deep are they?” Collin asked. “‘Cause it was probably Tom.”

”That’s bullshit and you know it.” Tom sneered, seated on the other sofa, which sat catty-corner by Vinter’s desk. “I’m trying to get out of here”

”Trying, but not very hard.” Vinter sighed. “That’s one.”

”But you’ve got your little X-man claws.” Samantha argued. “You’d be the most likely.”

“It wasn’t me.” Tom huffed. “If my claws got him you’d know it. He’d need stitches.”

Samantha tapped her fingers against the coffee table in front of her, upper body bent over her lap.

”Who all got punished yesterday?” She asked. “‘Cause that was when it happened.”

”David got it right before bed.” Collin said, failing to answer the question.

”It wasn’t David.” Samantha dismissed. “Maggie got it, too, right?”

”Me and Tom got it after lunch.” Robin said from Tom’s side, voice low and flat. Samantha shook her head.

”It had to have happened later.” She argued. “After dinner. I bet it was Maggie, she keeps her nails long.”

”New kid got it, too.” Tom pointed out. “Could’ve been him.”

Samantha looked over at the boy, who sat in the armchair in the back, left corner. The seat was angled to sit against a large window that looked out to the front yard, as well as a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that lined the wall. It was the same seat he had chosen last night, when Margaret had approached him and it was the most private seat in the room. The window separated it from its nearest neighbor.

”Alexander.” She sang, drawing out the last syllable of the boy’s name.

Alexander said nothing.

”C’mon.” She pressed. “Was it you?”

Alexander said nothing, still.

”I bet it was him.” Collin said. “‘Cause it wasn’t David and it wasn’t Tom.”

”Could’ve been Maggie.” Tom reminded.

“Maggie, was it you?” Collin asked flatly, and the girl grinned.

”Might have been.” She drawled. “Don’t really remember.”

”If Maggie says it was her, it wasn’t.” Collin said with a matter-of-fact tilt of the head. “It was the new kid.”

”I didn’t say it was me.”

”Alright, enough.” Vinter interrupted, finally. “It’s not any of your business what happened or who did it. Next person to speak on the subject gets a warning- and Samantha, you’re already at four.”

”But it was Alexander, right?” Samantha pressed.

”Five.” Vinter sighed. “And before you can try for six, let’s start group. Who wants to share?”

Everyone’s eyes cast downward to the floor, as they always did when this question was asked. Vinter knew better than to coax or goad his wards, however. A long enough silence could always extinguish the problem itself. It was Tom who broke it this time.

”Tomorrow I’ll have been here two years.” He said, gaze still cast to the floor.

His posture was hunched, elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped in the space between his knees. His right leg bounced rapidly, heel tapping quietly against the rug beneath him. His sketchbook, which he was never without, sat closed and upright, wedged into the crevice between his own cushion and the one next to it, where Robin sat, with an ink pen marking its place. Robin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and turned his body face away from his neighbor.

The boys were a sharp contrast, seated next to each other as they were. Tom was the oldest, then, taller by a full head, and broad in the shoulders the way omegas typically weren’t; and Robin was the youngest, a mere fifteen years old, with pale, Irish skin, and thin, frail limbs. Tom’s fox-like eyes peered down at the floor, brow furrowed, and Robin’s, wide and frightened as a doe’s, looked up and around, searching for something inoffensive to rest on. Vinter leaned his chin on his hand, and clenched his jaw to push the reassuring scent of an alpha into the room from the glands on his neck.

”Two years.” He repeated, gentle. “How are we feeling about that?”

Tom huffed, shrugging aggressively. David, one seat to the right in an armchair, hunched his shoulders.

”I mean, not happy.” Tom muttered, avoiding the alpha’s gaze. “But I already know what you’re gonna say.”

Vinter hummed, and flexed his jaw again to soothe the brood in front of him.

”And what am I gonna say?” He asked.

”That it’s my own fault, and I know what I need to do to get out.”

”I don’t think I would phrase it quite that harshly, Tom.” Vinter replied, keeping his tone gentle. “And I think I would remind you that this program is long-term by design.”

Tom huffed, and turned his face away from the alpha to look out the window on the back wall.

”Alright.” was all he said.

Vinter inhaled, and let the room sit in silence for a moment. Then, he pursued the conversation again.

”What is it you find so upsetting,” Vinter probed. “About coming up on two years?”

The boy fidgeted. He unclasped his hands, and ran the right one through his hair; thick and black. He spoke then, leaning backwards as his fingers combed through his hair.

”It really sucks to watch everyone leave.” He said. “It’s a whole new group now, there’s no one here who was here when I got here. I hate that.”

”And what do you hate about it?”

Tom huffed again, and collapsed onto the arm of the sofa, one hand supporting his chin. His gaze remained pointed out the window.

”It’s like-“ He said, and then stopped. His foot began tapping again.

Vinter simply waited.

”It’s like, you get here, and it sucks, but then you get to know everyone and you learn how everything works and it’s not so bad.” He said. “And then everyone leaves, and it’s like a brand new house. You have to get used to everything all over again! And it’s like, ‘oh my god, how many times am I gonna have to do this?’ Like, what if I’m here forever?’”

“Gee, I hope so.” Samantha deadpanned, slouched on her sofa. “I hope I never have to leave, this place is fuckin’ Disney World.”

“Six, Samantha.” Vinter scolded. “And seven, for interrupting. Sit quietly and behave.”

The alpha stared the girl down, but she retained her slouched, insolent posture, glaring into the floor. He surrendered his gaze with an exasperated sigh.

”Once, Tom, to answer your question.” Vinter said gently, returning his attention to the boy. “The house will only reset like this once. Hopefully, at least. Remind me, Tom, who was here when you arrived?”

Tom cast his gaze towards the ceiling, remembering,

”Abby, Cole, Nate, and Jenna.” He said, then added. “And Trevor.”

Vinter tapped his fingers on the desk, smiling.

”One more.”

Tom cocked his head to the side.

“Who?”

”Trevor had a roommate.”

Tom furrowed his brow.

”Was it the kid who left really soon?’”

Vinter snorted.

”It wasn’t soon for him.” He answered.”And his name was Lucas. He graduated the semester before you came but his alpha asked that I hold him a couple of months later for practical reasons.”

”Okay,” Tom replied with a roll of his eyes. “What’s your point?”

”My point is that, more or less, every student who passes through these halls follows the same path.” Vinter answered. “When you arrived, Jenna was about where you are now. She’d been here a year and a half, do you remember how she was?”

”I liked Jenna.” Tom said thoughtfully. “She was nice.”

Vinter hummed.

”Helpful, yeah?” He agreed. “Told you the rules, explained the schedule.”

”Not just me. She did the same for Josh when he got here.”

”And not just the two of you.” Vinter replied. “By the end of her first year, she had a habit of taking new students under her wing for the first week or so. Sort of like you did for Alexander last night.”

Tom turned his head, casting his gaze to Alexander, sat in his lonely armchair in the corner. Alexander slouched further in his seat, and lifted his gaze to meet Tom’s: a warning. Tom turned back to the doctor with a roll of his eyes.

”So what’s your point?”

”When did Jenna leave?” Vinter asked.

”May, like everybody else.”

”And for her that was three and half years.” Vinter replied. “She spent three and a half years in these halls. You’ve spent two, almost.”

“So your point is ‘wait a year’?”

“My point is Jenna was very different when she arrived than she was when you met her.” Vinter replied. “By the time you arrived, she had learned a lot, been in my office plenty of times. The same is true for you, now.”

Tom snorted.

”Well I have had plenty of trips to your office.”

”Less and less with time.” Vinter grinned. “Your time is going to come around just like Jenna’s did; and, in the same way, someone else is going to be in here lamenting the way the group has changed when you leave. You’ve made more progress than you think you have.”

Tom sighed and dropped his head, bringing one hand up and around to rub the back of his neck.

”So you’re saying I’m on track, then?”

”More or less.” Vinter nodded. “Your role has changed now, as well. You’ve got to be a role model to the younger, newer students, the same way Jenna was to you.”

Tom tilted his head from side to side, considering.

“What was your goal today, and your mood?” Vinter asked, pressing forward.

”Finish at least one unit in math.” Tom replied. “And I think I put a four or five for mood.”

“Excellent goal. Maths is hardest for you, yeah?”

”I’m more of a creative.”

”That you are.” Vinter grinned. “Who goes next, Robin or David?”

David had volunteered after a moment of silence, which was expected since Robin rarely spoke in group without being asked directly. They went on that way, then, counter-clockwise around the room. After David came Collin, and Samantha had interrupted them both with some flippant remark, earning eight and then nine warnings.

Then it was Samantha’s turn, sat next to Collin on her sofa. Margaret was seated to her left, an empty armchair in between them, holding space for the disdain the pair held for each other. As Vinter turned his attention to her, the warm smile he had offered Collin dropped off his face.

”Alright, Samantha.” He sighed. “Your turn now. You’ve wanted my attention all morning and now you’ve got it. Mood?”

”Ten out of ten.” She said flatly.

“Yes, as always.” Vinter replied, dryly. “Ten out of ten, every morning.”

”I love it here.” She spat.

”Happiest place on earth.” Vinter snarked back, and grinned.

The girl only glared in response. Vinter pressed forward.

”Fine.” He said. “Ten out of ten. What was your goal?”

”I wanna climb Mount Everest.”

The doctor groaned, and dropped his head into one hand.

”Must we do this every morning?” He asked, trying to rub the budding migraine out of his forehead. “Do we need yet another warning for refusing to take group seriously?”

”I don’t know what you mean.” Samantha shrugged. “I’m serious. I wanna climb that mountain, die on the way down, and have my body used as a landmark like Green Boots.”

“No, you don’t.”

”I do!” Samantha insisted, rising in her seat. She was playful, now, enjoying the game. “I just feel like it’s a way I could give back to others, you know?”

Vinter stared down at the girl, but his gaze was more tired than intimidating. She only grinned back.

”Alright, we’re at ten, then.”

”For what?”

”For refusing to take group seriously.” Vinter answered. “And now we’re at eleven, talking back.”

”I was asking a question.”

”And that one can bring us to twelve.” Vinter grinned. “Suppose we’ll just keep going, yeah?”

”Going where?”

”Thirteen.”

“Thirteen for asking where we’re going?” Samantha snorted. “How will I know what to pack?”

”And now fourteen”

She turned to Collin, at her side, and gestured to the doctor, as if bewildered.

”This guy, am I right?”

Collin snorted.

”Don’t bring me into this.” He muttered, slumping in his seat

”Good boy, Collin.” Vinter hummed. “Fifteen, now, Samantha.”

”Just wanted to know where we were going.” She muttered, slumped back low against her seat. “Might’ve been Disney.”

”And the callback brings us to sixteen.” Vinter sighed, smiling tight-lipped. “Are we ready to stop?”

Samantha considered it, Vinter knew. He could see it on her face; the cost-benefit analysis she was running in her head. In the end, she sighed, and let it go.

”Fine, fine.” She muttered, noncommittal.

“Good girl.” Vinter hummed. Then he turned his attention to the tittering in the lonely corner.

Alexander had fought laughter through the girl’s entire routine. He sat in his chair and covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. And he fought it still, as the joking drew to a close.

”Alexander, is there something you find funny in your corner over there?”

The boy stiffened, and his expression soured in an instant.

”I didn’t say anything.” He spat.

”You didn’t need to.” Vinter replied, smiling warmly. “Samantha’s funny, isn’t she?”

The boy only shrugged.

”I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Vinter pressed on. “Collin does, too. Right?”

Collin startled, and stared back wide-eyed behind his glasses.

”Um.” He stammered.

”Is Samantha funny, Collin?” Vinter asked, leaning his chin on his hand. “It’s a yes or no question.”

”Yes, sir.” The boy replied, looking at the floor.

”David, what do you think?”

”She can be.” David replied timidly, eyes peeking up at the doctor before dropping back to the floor.

“Tom, what about you?”

”I think it’s more annoying than anything when she wastes all our time in group.” Tom replied, and Samantha stuck her tongue out in his direction.

”Seventeen.” Vinter grinned, then sat back in his chair.

”Let’s take a vote.” He beamed, “Raise your hand if you think Samantha is funny.”

The group shifted nervously, exchanging looks.

”Aw, go on.” Vinter coaxed. “No one is going to get in trouble for saying so.”

Slowly, hands raised; Collin’s went up as high as he could hold it, and David’s raised half-heartedly, bent at the elbow. Tom kept his down, holding his sketchbook in his lap, waiting for a moment the doctor’s eyes would not be on him to open it. Robin raised his hand, elbow propped up on his knee. Joshua raised his eagerly, grinning, and Gabriel gave a noncommittal raise of his first two fingers. Maggie kept hers down, arms crossed over her chest, and moped, furious that the other girl was the center of attention. That left Alexander.

Alexander sat, slouched, and tried to pretend he did not notice the conversation at all. His position did not change when the doctor addressed him.

”Come on, Alexander.” Vinter goaded, gleeful. “You have to think she’s funny, you were laughing the whole time!”

”I remembered something from TV.” The boy muttered, and Samantha stifled a snort of her own.

”We’ll count Alexander as half a vote.” Vinter said, and grinned with a wrinkle of his nose. Then, he sat back into his chair, and counted hands with a gesture of his pen.

”Let’s see.” He began. “One, two, three, four, five. And Alexander makes five and a half.”

He turned to Samantha and grinned.

”Multiply that by five, you’ll take twenty-eight extra swats for everyone you’ve entertained.”

”Twenty-eight?” Samantha balked.

”Rounding up.�� Vinter nodded. “Because you can’t have half a swat, that’s just silly.”

”That’s not fair!” The girl argued.

”It doesn’t have to be.” Vinter shrugged. “And that’s twenty-eight on top of those earned by your seventeen warnings, which we’ll parse out upstairs.”

Vinter sighed, satisfied, and leaned his chin on his hand again.

”Have we got what we wanted, now?” He asked. “Are we ready to proceed?”

Samantha sighed, and ducked her head.

”Yes, sir.”

”Good.” The doctor exhaled, voice dropping its put-upon glee for the stern tone he’d wanted to take since the girl began her charade. “Because we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? What qualities does a goal have to have to be appropriate for group?”

”It’s got to be achievable by the end of the day.” Samantha droned.

”That’s right.” Vinter affirmed. “And can Mount Everest be climbed in one day?”

”I think I could if I had enough caffeine.”

Vinter sighed.

”Samantha, you aren’t acting as carefully as I would expect from someone who’s already earned sixteen warnings and twenty-eight extra swats.”

The girl huffed.

”No sir, it cannot.”

”It’s also got to be something that doesn't break house rules.” Vinter continued. “Such as leaving the grounds unsupervised; which you would have to do in order to travel to Nepal, because I'm not coming with you. What else?”

”It can’t be detrimental to your mental or physical health.”

”That’s right.” Vinter chirped. “And your goal sounded pretty detrimental to me; dying and being used as a landmark and that. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

”So why don’t we try to make another goal?” The doctor suggested. “One in line with group rules.”

”My goal is to have fun and be myself.” The girl said flatly, head lolled to the side to look out the window. Vinter let out a groan.

”Yes, of course it is.” He said dryly. “Same as yesterday and the day before.”

”The fun never stops.”

”Depends who you ask.”

They went on to Maggie, then, who tried in her own way to capture the group’s attention, but got embarrassed shortly into the bit, as she always did. Then, they moved on.

They could have gone to Alexander, then, separated from Margaret by the window which allowed space for his own disdain for the girl; but Vinter liked to give new students as much space as he could reasonably allow. So, he went on to Gabriel, whose chair was sat catty-corner along the border of the rug, in front of Alexander. Then, it was Joshua, whose seat was a mirror of Gabriel’s, and who signed his responses.

”Mood today, Joshua?” The doctor asked.

The boy held up his right hand and tapped his pinkie and thumb together: “six.”

”Six?” Vinter asked, more for the clarity of the other students than his own. He had known the boy for more than a year now, and was quite proud of his progress in ASL, slow and clumsy as his signing was.

Joshua nodded in response.

”Bit low for you.” The doctor pressed, signing slowly as he spoke. “What’s got you down today?”

Joshua didn’t respond for a moment, sat slouched with his arms crossed over his chest. His foot began to bounce against the rug in front of him. Then, he answered.

”Homesick.” He signed. “Today is my dad’s birthday.”

Vinter hummed.

”It’s your father’s birthday.” He repeated. “And you’re here instead.”

Joshua had exhaled, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance, and nodded. Vinter hummed, and pretended not to notice the attitude.

”And we’ve said before that’s the hardest part for a lot of you.” He said. “That life goes on without you while you’re here.”

Joshua sat silent for a moment, tapping his own foot the way Tom had earlier. When he brought his hands in front of his face to sign, his movements were erratic, angry.

”I can’t see them until August visitation.” He signed. “And they missed last week because of some kind of work thing. And I don’t get phone calls every night like everyone else because half the time the Wi-Fi is so bad that you can’t talk.”

“Hold on,” Vinter said, urgency in his voice. He spoke faster than he signed. “You’re not getting your phone call every night?”

Joshua sighed.

”It lags.” He signed. “The video freezes, or cuts out, so I can’t see what they’re saying. Audio still goes, I can hear them on the other side, but we can’t talk, because they can’t hear me!”

He emphasized the word “me,” driving his forefinger into his chest with a large, sweeping motion.

“Joshua, you should have told me that.” Vinter replied, tone gentle in both voice and sign. “You should get to call home nightly, like everyone else.”

“Wait, why can’t he?” Gabriel asked from his side. “What did he say?”

”The video cuts out on his calls.” Vinter replied. “Or lags, so he can’t talk to his parents.”

”Then why doesn’t he just call like everyone else?” Gabriel asked. “He can talk, I’ve heard him before.”

Joshua turned to Gabriel, and signed angrily. He finished by clapping his hand against his chest, fingers positioned in an “OK” gesture. Vinter snorted.

”One, Joshua.” He said. “I know what that means now.”

”He deserved it.” Joshua signed, looking away.

”Perhaps,” Vinter allowed, smiling warmly. “But profanity is not allowed in any language, no matter how deserved.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed, blue eyes darting between the doctor and the boy to his left.

”What did he say?” He asked

”He said he can’t speak to his parents on the phone because they’re deaf, Gabriel.” Vinter answered. “And then he called you something rude.”

”His parents are deaf?” Gabriel asked. “You said he was a selective mute.”

”He is, sort of. That’s what they had called him at his school.” Vinter said. “But it’s really sort of different. His first language is ASL. He knows English, but ASL is easier, more fluent. He’s a native signer, that’s why he can sign so much faster than the rest of us. Well, that and the fact that you lot don’t really study.”

”So what’s this?” Collin asked, and brought his hand against his own chest the way Joshua had before. “Which word?”

Vinter snorted.

”I’m not telling.”

”Josh, finger spell it.” Samantha said, sitting up in her seat. Her interest was piqued, now.

“Don’t.” Vinter warned. “Samantha, aren’t you in enough trouble, already?”

”Come on.” Josh signed, grinning at the doctor. “She barely knows the alphabet, anyway.”

Vinter snorted.

”Call it a test, then?” He snarked. “Anyone who’s studied enough gets to know?”

”Yes.” Joshua signed eagerly, nodding behind his words.

”Try it if you like, it’s your behind.”

Try it, he did. He faced the girl and began spelling, slow and deliberate. She narrowed her eyes and watched.

”A-E-E.” She said slowly, and Joshua huffed.

”No.” He signed, and started over.

”A.” She said, and he nodded. Then, “E-E?”

Joshua shook his head again, wiggling his fingers in mid-air as his gaze cast to the side. He was thinking, trying to come up with a way to explain.

“You.” He signed, pointing at the girl.

”Me?”

He nodded.

”First letter you.” He signed, deconstructing the language into a broken version of itself that mimicked the grammar of English, in the hopes that the girl would understand.

”One?” She asked.

”I think it’s ‘first.’” David said helpfully.

Joshua pointed to him, nodding.

”Ok, first.” Samantha continued. “Then ‘something, me.’ I don’t know the middle one.”

”Letter.” Joshua signed again, slower, making the letter L with his right hand, then tapping his thumb with the forefinger of his left.

”I know this is ‘L.’” Samantha said, timidly, and made the sign with her own hand.

Josh groaned and collapsed against his seat.

”It’s ‘letter.’” Tom said curtly. “‘Letter,’ and you’d know if you ever practiced.”

”Letter.” Samantha repeated. “‘First letter you.’ First letter you?”

“He means your name, I think.” David said quietly.

”S.” Samantha said. “Oh, it’s ‘S!’”

Joshua sat back up, excitement rekindled.

”Yes.” He signed, and began to finger spell again.

”S-E-E” Samantha said slowly, and Joshua deflated, groaning.

”He already told you the first letter was ‘A’!” Tom said, incredulous. “It’s the next letter you had wrong. You always get ‘E’ and ‘S’ confused.”

”A-S-S.” She said. “Oh, it’s ass.”

Vinter hummed.

”You’re at seventeen now, Samantha.” He said dryly. “And that isn’t right, not entirely.”

”It’s not?” She asked. “Keep going, Josh.”

Joshua began spelling for her again.

”G?” She guessed, and the boy groaned again.

”H.” Tom corrected. His sketchbook was open now, spread across his lap as he scribbled into it with the pen. This charade had been identified as an opportunity to sketch.

”H.” Samantha repeated. “Oh, it’s asshole.”

Josh nodded, giving two thumbs up.

”Solved it, then.” Vinter grinned. “That’s eighteen for you, Samantha, plus those extra swats, and two for Joshua. I hope it was worth it.”

With that the doctor checked his watch, and pressed forward.

”Alright, let’s finish group this morning, yeah? We’ve got thirty minutes.” He said, and looked up. “Who’s next, Robin or Alexander?”

Neither boy spoke, both looking intently at the floor in front of them.

Alexander sat slouched in the far armchair, arms crossed over his chest and knees apart to take up more space; male omegas in Vinter’s care often sat this way, mimicking their betan and alphan counterparts to feign confidence- or display authentic aggression. Outside of the manor’s walls, this kind of posture was uncommon for any member of the gentle dynamic.

Robin sat in a position more typical for an omega, knees drawn to his chest and thin arms wrapped around them to draw them even closer. He rested his chin atop his knees and cast his gaze downward; his objective was the opposite of Alexander’s: to appear even smaller than he was.

Vinter tapped a pen against the desk, held upright, as silence failed to crack either of his wards. He sighed before speaking.

”It’s got to be one of you.” He said. “Everyone else has gone.”

Neither spoke, still.

”If no one goes, I’ll choose.”

Nothing, still. Robin turned his face away, pointed to the wall behind Tom: a gesture of submission. Vinter sighed, and tapped his pen again.

”Robin, then.” He said, tone firm but gentle. “Since Alexander is new.”

Vinter watched the boy tense, the sharp scent of his stress washing over him. He was seated perhaps three feet from the doctor on the catty-corner sofa, the first seat on the other side of the desk. The sofa formed a little corner behind itself, blocked off from view, which Vinter had created to discourage students from finding their way behind the desk. That was Robin’s preferred seat, hidden from view next to the doctor’s desk, on the floor.

Vinter had fought it when the boy first arrived, tried to force him to sit on the provided, appropriate seating with his peers. They had reached an agreement in June, the boy’s second month, that he could hide in his corner during free time if he sat properly during groups. The boy adhered to this agreement, but not enthusiastically.

”I’m doing okay.” He said softly, voice flat and unaffected as it usually was. “I put a seven, I think.”

”You seem anxious for a seven.” Vinter pointed out.

”Was less anxious when I wrote it.” Robin replied, smiling tight-lipped.

Vinter hummed.

”Lot of high emotions this group, yeah?”

”I guess.”

”And you’re not one for conflict, are you, Robin?”

The boy said nothing, only gave a half-hearted shake of his head.

”But we know we’re safe here.” The doctor pressed. “And we know we’re here to get better. Don’t we, Robin?”

The boy inhaled, and lifted his head slightly to nod.

”Can you answer me properly, Robin?”

”Yes, sir.” The boy said in his flat affect. “I know I’m safe here.”

”Good boy.” Vinter said softly. “What was our goal today?”

”Be social.”

Vinter grinned.

”And you were a bit, at breakfast.”

”A little.” Robin said, exhaling a breathy laugh. His posture relaxed some. “I’m trying to put my energy into progress, ‘cause I won’t get anywhere doing the same things I’ve always done.”

”And that’s a wonderful attitude.” Vinter said, gentle and warm. “You’ve been here how long?”

”Came here in May.” The boy said, resting his cheek against his knee. “The twentieth.”

”And it’s fourteenth July.” Vinter said. “So we’re almost at two months, yeah?”

Robin said nothing, only shrugged.

”Tom, do you remember when you were that new?”

Tom startled, and shut his sketchbook, pen left in to mark its place.

”I remember being new.” He said. “I couldn’t tell you by month.”

”What was it like, being new?”

Tom exhaled, and gave an unsure kind of shrug.

”It was hardest at the beginning.” He said. “‘Cause, you know it’s long term treatment, but I don’t think you can have a real idea of what that means for a while.”

”How long of a while?”

Tom snorted.

”I feel like I only really got it when Jenna, Abby, and Nate left all at once.” He said. “They had told me they’d been here for years when I got here- Wasn’t Nate here for like four? But I didn’t really get it. Or, I didn’t apply it to myself.”

“Nate was here five years, and that isn’t so unusual.” Vinter corrected. “He came at sixteen. Most come a bit older, but I get plenty that young. Everyone’s got to graduate or go somewhere else by twenty-one though, because you can no longer be classified as adolescents.”

Tom snorted.

”Well, that’s reassuring.” He said. “Only two more years, no matter what.”

”Well, make it your goal to graduate,” Vinter snarked back. “Because it is entirely possible to discharge you elsewhere than home.”

“Have you ever had to do that?” Margaret asked, wide-eyed, from her seat by the window.

”Not yet.” Vinter replied. “But I’m sure it’s a matter of time. I’m very grateful that every student I’ve had so far has graduated and either been placed with a mate or returned home.”

”Everyone?” Collin asked. “”No one dropped out or anything?”

”A few day schoolers have been pulled by their parents, but I haven’t lost a single boarder.”

Tom hummed.

”I could be the first.”

Vinter grinned.

”Try whatever you like.” He dared. “We’ll see who folds first.”

The doctor straightened, then, and returned his attention to Robin.

“Anyway, Robin, I brought Tom into the conversation to illustrate that the same I said for him is true for you.” He said. “You’ve got to get through your first months like everyone else who’s passed through here has had to. Your time’s going to come around, just like Tom’s is. It was nearly two years, he said, before he even understood what his treatment entailed. You’ve been here two months, it’s just going to take time. You’re doing well already.”

Robin said nothing, gaze pointed away from the doctor. He didn’t seem reassured by that answer.

”Alright.” Vinter sighed, pressing on. “You’re up, Alexander.”

“I don’t want to share.” The boy said flatly.

”I’m afraid participation is required.” Vinter responded easily.

”What happens if I don’t?”

”Automatic consequence.” The doctor grinned. “We’ll make a detour to my office before finishing lessons. I’ll see you just after Samantha.”

“Zero.” The boy said bitterly. “And my goal is to stay out of trouble.”

”That’s a good goal, in light of last night.” Vinter said, softening. “Why are we at zero this morning?”

”Because I’m here.” The boy said flatly.

”And I’m sure you’d rather not be.” Vinter snorted. Then, he straightened, projected his voice, and addressed the rest of the group.

“Raise your hand if you’re excited to be here.”

A moment of silence passed. No one raised their hand until Samantha, recognizing an opportunity for a laugh, stuck hers up as high as she could raise it, grinning smugly at the doctor. Alexander disguised a snort as a cough, and Vinter sighed, turning to the boy with a warm smile.

“Looks like you’ve got company, Alexander.” He said brightly. “But we’re all here for a reason, aren’t we? Everyone wants to go home, and everyone wants to go home quickly, but it simply doesn’t work like that. Keep your focus on yourself, put your energy into your own progress and your own growth and things will get easier. You’ll earn privileges, have a little more freedom to move about, and you’ll get to go home for holidays and special occasions if you behave.”

Alexander snorted.

”No, I won’t.” He spat.

Vinter hummed.

“Try it and find out.”

”I won’t.” The boy rebutted, meeting the doctor’s gaze with a glare. “No matter what I do or how well I behave, I will never get to go home, because I haven’t got a home to go to, doctor.”

Vinter so rarely found himself without a response, but he found himself that way now. He took in a breath, and steadied himself, seeing how David and Robin fidgeted in the corner of his vision.

”Let’s process that, then.” He suggested, refocusing to a problem he could fix. “How does that make you feel, to not have a home?”

Alexander growled in response; a real growl. Most omegas couldn’t, or could only do so in a quiet, raspy kind of way, like a singer trying to hit a note out of their range. Those that could manage the noise typically learned to do so in childhood, before presenting; and growling was typically not the only aggressive behavior they learned in that time.

Anxiety rippled through the group in response. Gabriel, closest to the boy, only shifted slightly, mostly unfazed. Margaret, on the other side, ducked her head forward, so that her hair covered her face, and watched the boy sideways with wary eyes. Samantha exhaled a sigh, not quite nervous and not quite annoyed, but something in between; and Joshua leaned forward, folding his upper body over his lap. Collin, next to Samantha, turned his face away and began bouncing his leg; and David, to his left, gripped his elbows in his hands, pulling himself into a sort of hug. Tom seemed to have hardly noticed, sketchbook back out and open across his lap, but Robin, next to him, turned his face away to look at the wall behind the doctor, one hand winding wildly through his red mane of hair.

”Doesn’t make me feel any sort of way.” Alexander muttered, bitter and petulant. If he noticed the reactions he’d elicited, he did not acknowledge them. “Just the way it is.”

Vinter hummed, chin resting on his hand. He’d been soothing the group since the sound escaped the boy’s mouth, pushing his calm, assured, alphan scent out through his scent glands with clenches of his jaw, but it only worked so quickly. He allowed a moment of silence, and watched out of the corner of his eye as postures seemed to relax. He would speak only when the atmosphere was sufficiently calm.

“I would argue you do feel some way about it.” He said, finally. “Based on your reaction to that question.”

Alexander said nothing, only shrugged.

”You don’t have to share anything about your personal life that you don’t want to, Alexander.” Vinter said gently. “But if, as you say, you haven’t got a home, you’ve got one now. This program is long term by design, barring a life and death circumstance, no one will get out before a year has passed- and most will stay several times longer. This structure and stability could be an opportunity for growth, if you’ll allow it to be.”

Alexander didn’t respond, but shifted in his seat to face the window rather than the rest of the room. It was a sign of submission, a mirror of the one Robin had made not thirty minutes before. The doctor didn’t know whether or not to consider it a win.

The door from the kitchen opened with a clamor, then, drawing the doctor’s attention as well as the wide eyes of his already stressed wards. It was Ben who came through it, a dark-skinned beta with rectangular glasses and dreadlocks that fell down to his shoulders. He was looking at his phone as he entered, a stack of mail clutched in his other hand as it hung at his side. Without the keen sense of smell of an alpha- or even omega- he was the last to realize the thick air of unease that filled the room. He looked up at the room full of wide, round stares, and shuffled backward through the doorway, sheepish.

”Sorry.” He said. “I thought you’d be in finishing lessons by now.”

”Finishing.” Vinter repeated, and checked his watch. “No, you’re right Ben. We’re late.”

He stood, then, and addressed the group.

”Alright.” He said. “We’re late for lessons, so everyone please make your way upstairs. If you need to use the restroom, Ben can unlock it for you, but let’s try to be quick.”

#alpha beta omega #abo #darkfic #omegaverse #antis dont interact #a vinter boy

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