Page 49 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

The burst of fast talking and oversharing was so quintessentially Milo that Rowan’s shoulders relaxed a degree. “I think my hawk’s known for a while, too. He’s been—”

Gods, it was probably far too early in their relationship, and far too late at night, to mention his hawk’s mating dance.

Of course, Milo wasn’t going to let that one go, though. “He’s been what?”

As if in demonstration, Rowan’s hawk began bobbing his head, shaking his tail as if eager to show off the rest of his dance.

“He’s been bobbing around a lot,” Rowan said, ignoring his hawk for now. “Which I suspect was a sign he knew.”

“Oh, with his head and shoulders? Sort of like headbanging to rock music?” Milo asked, letting their legs fall open into a relaxed diamond shape. “He was doing that earlier, too! I was going to ask you what kind of music he prefers, and if Ruben ever plays music for him, or you, and if not, he totally should. I bet that would be cute, because your hawk is so cute.”

Rowan’s hawk shrieked proudly, unfurling his wings so fast, a few feathers fell out. It was the start of spring molting season, and Rowan was actually surprised there hadn’t been any feathers left as evidence in the living room. That would have clued him in earlier, but maybe it was better this way. If he hadn’t felt the fated mate bond himself, it was possible their conversation at breakfast wouldn’t have gone this well. Now, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Milo was his fated mate.

Maybe that was why he could still feel the imprint of Milo’s fingers under his. It made his skin buzz, but not in the usual itching, creepy-crawly way it did after unwanted touch. It was almost like he wanted to touch Milo again.

Rowan carefully lowered his hand until his pinky was just a hairsbreadth away from Milo’s.

“My hawk says thank you,” Rowan murmured.

Milo beamed at him. “Well, he’s very welcome. While it was a bit surprising to meet him, it was also amazing, and I would totally hold you—er, your hawk, again.”

Rowan’s pinky twitched, brushing the side of Milo’s finger.

“I mean, I’d also totally hold you, or let you hold me, literally anytime, but there’s no pressure,” Milo said, flapping their free hand in the air. “Or if you like pressure, but not touch, I could always wear a parka or something in bed. Or on the couch. Wherever.”

Rowan pressed the small section of his pinky between the fingertip and first knuckle against Milo’s finger. “Sometimes I do like pressure, through clothes or a blanket. You definitely don’t have to wear a parka, though.”

Milo nodded, covering a yawn with one hand while they kept their other arm and hand locked in place, not pressing against or pulling away from Rowan.

“We can talk about that later, though,” Rowan said, not pulling away either.

“Over breakfast? And strawberries? And then at my place?” Milo asked, their eyes gleaming from under their flagging eyelids.

“Yeah…yeah, let’s do that.”

Keeping his hand in place, Rowan slid down the headboard, coming to rest with his cheek pressed into his pillow, facing Milo.

Milo tried to do the same but ended up toppling over sideways.

Rowan pulled his hand back from the now empty pillow and used it to pull the blanket up and over them. Milo shifted around, grabbing the top of the blanket in their hand, fisting it so that when they placed their hand on the pillow again, it was protected by fabric.

His hawk chirped and bobbed his head as he nestled into his nest.

Using the last of his remaining strength, Rowan stared into Milo’s eyes and placed his hand over Milo’s covered one.

Fortunately, crying wasn’t what woke Rowan up in the morning.

Unfortunately, it was a loud crash from his kitchen.

Rowan’s hawk squawked at him, like their fated mate was his problem this early in the morning.

Holy gods, he had a fated mate…who was apparently causing chaos in the kitchen if the second, quieter crash was anything to go by.

“Milo?” Rowan called out, his voice cracking in the middle, making it nearly unintelligible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Milo, baby?”

Rowan’s hawk gave a pleased sounding kee-aww at his little addition, and Rowan wondered if he could suffocate himself with his own pillow.

Milo skidded into the room, their socks slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor. Rowan’s t-shirt was tucked into the front of their jean shorts from the night before, and Rowan blinked his sleep-heavy eyes several times to fully take in the gorgeous sight.