Their first date had been a right contrast to everything one would call a date. There had been flowers, sure, but not store bought or florist recommended. Harry had picked them up from his neighbour’s yard, the sweet lady recollecting her memories from when her mate -then girlfriend- had brought a bouquet of those for her. Harry had found a safety in those flowers, as if they would carry along their blessings to him and Louis. He still remembered how Louis had lit up the moment he had seen them; a toothy grin accompanying the redness on his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners. He had looked beautiful, but then again, he always did.

A conventional date would have had them dining at a restaurant and sharing a hug at the end of the night. But they had been college students with scholarships covering their tuition fee and part time jobs covering residential bills. They had no allusion of big dates and expensive meals.

Rather, Louis had snuck him into his dormitory building, had climbed the fire escape, giggling when the metal stairs had rattled and squeaked in protest from their haste. There, on the roof, at the beginning of winter season they had drank cheap wine, eaten what Louis had deemed to be Michelin star worthy spaghetti, and stolen shy kisses. Those shy kisses had emboldened as the evening turned to night, a crescendo which had Harry laying the omega on the blanket and littering every exposed surface of skin with a reverent press of his lips.

It was the chill in the air that had them pulling apart – shy laughter spilling between them as they snuck longing glances – to collect the mismatched glasses and the blanket. Back in Louis’ room, they had taken to drinking more of that cheap wine, and stolen more of those shy kisses.

To this day, Harry considered it the best date of his life. No amount of fine dining and opera nights could top that evening with Louis.

Now, Harry watched as the omega skated ahead of him, blades sliding over the frozen lake. Louis cut an enchanting image; an angel floating over the ice, wrapped in layers of wool, looking over his shoulder as he laughed joyously before circling back to Harry, winding his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“Do you remember our first date?” Louis asked, moving in closer when Harry’s hands settled on his waist.

“Of course, I do,” he said, “How can I ever forget?”

“I wish I had done more than cook spaghetti, and saying cook is an exaggeration in itself. I should have saved up a bit more and taken you some place nice, because tonight was wonderful, H.”

“Are you kidding me? I would never wish to have it any different, baby,” he assured, running his thumb over the frown birthing between Louis’ eyebrows, “I treasure every moment I spend in your presence. I was so ecstatic, Lou, just being with you makes me ecstatic.”

He smiled when Louis grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners, “You do know your way with words.”

“I am simply being honest.”

“Well, here’s another truth,” Louis fiddled with the button of Harry’s coat, prying it open and then closing it again. A little mischievous and a little shy as he said, “We are gonna go home and have sex, but that does not mean I always put out on first dates.”

“Of course not,” Harry breathed, suddenly feeling winded. He had hoped but not assumed. Having a confirmation though, it had him feeling a tad nervous – excited nervous. The dinner earlier in the evening had been an innocent affair, no suggestive looks or inappropriate touches. He would have ended the night with a kiss if that was what Louis had wanted. Now, though, he could not wait to get the man home.

“It just means you’re a little bit special, Agent Styles,” Louis smiled, fixing Harry’s muffler and then patting it once he was done. He twined his fingers with Harry’s, pulling him away from the rink and towards the benches. “You look nervous,” Louis noted, removing the skating shoes.

“I am,” Harry confessed.

“Me too.”

Harry let out a short laugh, “I feel as if I’m a teenager all over again.”

“What a nightmarish thought,” the omega laughed, “All awkward and lanky, I haven’t forgotten those photos.”

Harry smiled, conceding with a nod, “All that lacked were a pair of glasses.”

Louis hummed, “I would have still gone to prom with you. Although, now, the thought of being jam-packed in a room filled with drunk teenagers makes me nauseous.”

They returned the shoes, and Louis managed to manoeuvre his way under Harry’s arm, sticking close as they made their way back to the car.

Harry kissed the top of the omega’s head, smiling when Louis snaked an arm around his waist, cold seeping out from his fingers. “Are you cold, baby?” He asked.

Louis turned his head to brush his lips against Harry’s ear, “You could keep me warm.”

He almost tripped over his feet and brought them both down, but Louis kept him upright while laughing with his head thrown back.

“Not funny,” he complained, not that the omega seemed to agree, still giggling as they settled inside the car.

“It is, trust me,” Louis grinned.

Harry just shook his head and drove on, curling his fingers through Louis’ after kissing the back of his hand.

-

Elaborate and extensive words would fail to describe how ethereal the omega looked. There was no language that could articulate the beauty of the man that stood in front of him; skin bare and glowing from the moonlight filtering through the windows. Skin flushed from the blood rushing underneath, painted crimson for his eyes to feast upon, luring him to take the bait and get hooked.

Harry had no choice but to fold.

His fingers hovered hesitantly, halting just before they could rest upon that feverish flesh. And like a helpless sailor to the siren’s call, he fell.

Under the watchful eye of the dark night, he surrendered himself to this mythical creature. For what could the omega be if not mythical? The stories of incubus and sirens must have held some truth, must have birthed and grown with a foundation, and here Harry had the proof to them as he could not fathom to deny the pull the omega’s gravity had on him.

He succumbed – wilful and mesmerised – laying the man down and greeting those sweet lips with his own.

“Harry...” Louis moaned, neck bared as Harry trailed his lips down the searing skin, hands holding the omega in place as he parted his legs. Fingers knotted and tugged at his hair, tightening with each ardent lick, accompanied by a supplication to his reverence.

He could spend an eternity there and not want for anything. For what could be more fulfilling than pleasing his mate?

It was music to his ears when Louis let himself go, unbothered and shameless as he yielded to pleasure; demanded rather than begged. The sight in front of him belonged in a museum, such was it painted – his alpha bristled as the thought flittered through his mind. There was nothing he would not do to be the only one to ever lay eyes on that portrait. He coveted the omega, helplessly and with a burning desire one should never dare to question, let alone challenge.

Louis pulled him in, bracketing him with his legs, wrapping himself around Harry in a desperate attempt to never be separated again as their souls became one. Harry kissed the sweat glistened skin, unable to help himself as his teeth found the healed over skin he had once broken through. He felt Louis shudder around him, the hand in his hair urging him closer to the mark.

“Please.” Broken and begging, the omega looked beautiful, trusting Harry to either build him up again, or hold him as his pieces fell.

He bit through the skin, deep as he could, sating the urge to claim that had laid dormant in the absence of his mate. He heard the scream of pleasure over the adrenaline rushing through his veins, felt the nails scratch open the skin of his back – aware he would find himself marked and claimed in return.

And under that watchful eye of the dark night and the filtering moonlight, they became one of body and mind.

-

They had hardly been asleep for two hours when Harry’s phone rang, disturbing the quiet that came with early mornings still swath by the sheet of the night.

“Hello?” He answered after checking the caller ID.

“I need you at the crime scene, I’ve texted you the address,” Rowen said over the line, already alert and possibly awake since at least an hour.

“I’ll be there,” he hung up and made to leave the bed when Louis’ voice stopped him.

“Rowen?”

“Yeah,” he brushed the hair away from the omega’s face, kissing his forehead, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

Even the mere suggestion of being away from Louis hurt. Their bond had been dormant for such a long time, and now that it had been complete again, it seemed to physically ache to bring up the notion to be separated.

Louis sat up, shifting closer to him, “I could come with you.”

Despite knowing that he should deny, Harry could not bring himself to, “I should learn to say no to you.”

Louis smiled, “Too late, you’re already smitten.”

“And you’re too stubborn,” he reminded.

Louis shrugged, “That too.”

-

Harry parked a little away from the yellow tapes. The hour-long ride had given them enough time to finish their coffees and be alert. He turned to Louis, making a last-ditch attempt, “It won’t take me too long, you can wait in the car.”

The look Louis gave him screamed unimpressed from a hundred miles, “Sure, go ahead. If by the tenth step you’re not running back to the car, I’ll stay here.”

Harry smiled, adjusting the muffler around the omega’s neck, the air outside was too cold and he didn’t want to risk him getting sick. “Stubborn,” he remarked, kissing those beckoning lips.

“Smitten,” Louis countered.

His phone rang again, making him sigh and answer it as he got out of the car, quickly followed by Louis. He showed his badge to the local PD officer and ducked under the tape.

Rowen approached them, phone clutched in his hand, “Took you long enough.” He looked over at Louis but held back from making a remark at his presence. Instead, gestured them to follow after him. “Looks like the body was displayed here after the Holts retired for bed. Their neighbour reported it when he returned from his night shift.”

Sarah took over when they reached the body, “Andrew Holt disappeared six years ago outside a grocery store while Mrs. Holt was backing out the car from the parking. The police followed the case for a year but didn’t find anything other than a blurry footage showing Andrew following a man out of the parking lot.”

“And the MO?” Harry asked.

“Matches our perpetrator,” Sarah said, “Mitch talked to the parents. Andrew would have turned eighteen today, he presented classic signs of an omega when he turned twelve. There are signs of physical assault present; bruises over his face and arms, can’t be sure of others before the autopsy.”

“Sexual assault?”

“Possibly.”

There was something about the display that was different, it resembled the other displays but at the same time it was a contrast to each body they had encountered before.

“I think we should get the BAU involved,” he said.

“Oh, why?”

“There’s something we are missing in the profile,” he crouched near the body after donning the gloves. Similar to others, the boy’s hands were folded over his stomach, eyes purposefully closed with daisies resting over them, throat slashed from ear to ear and sealed with stitches, head crowned with an array of flowers. He turned the boy’s face to a side and cursed, feeling the others go still behind him. There, on the boy’s neck was a mating bite, no older than three days at most.

That was different. The perpetrator had never bonded with his victims before.

“I’ll call Chloe,” Rowen said, and then announced, “Everyone step back from the body!”

Chloe was a criminal profiler for the BAU, a good one at that, and especially one that got along well with Harry. Small mercies, he supposed.

“Hey, you okay?” He heard Mitch ask and looked over to find Louis white in the face, fingers scratching over the fabric covering his mark.

He removed his gloves and stood from where he was crouched, his feet carrying him quickly to the omega. Resting a hand on Louis’ elbow, he gently pried his fingers away from his neck, the mark would still be sore and would bleed if Louis continued. He knew his was.

“I’m fine,” Louis whispered, eyes unfocused, holding onto his hand.

“Give us a minute,” he told Mitch, ignoring the curious looks as he wound his arm around the omega’s shoulder and pulled him away from all the activity.

In a relative privacy Louis curled against his body, a tremor rackling his frame. Harry held the nape of his neck, securing him close and scenting the man.

“I’m sorry,” Louis spoke eventually, ashamed.

“Don’t be,” he assured, reasoning, “It would have shocked anyone, and while we do sympathise with the victims, we don’t empathise with them. You shouldn’t apologise that you do.”

“I don’t—I don’t associate our bond to what was done to that poor boy,” Louis clarified, gulping as the last dregs of his empathy slid away. It was a blessing and a curse how omegas could readily empathise with others of their kind. Louis pressed a hand to where Harry’s mark laid over his heart, assuring himself that they were each other’s, that a faceless man had not sullied what was sacred.

“I know, baby,” he reciprocated by pressing his thumb over the omega’s mark, “You want to wait in the car?”

Louis contemplated before shaking his head, “It was just a bit of a shock, like you said.”

“I have to talk to the parents, it’s okay if you don’t want to be there.”

“I don’t think I can be away from you right now,” Louis confessed, tightening his grip where his hands were balled into the fabric of Harry’s jacket.

“That’s fine, too, darling.”

Louis stuck close to him as he talked to the Holts, keeping his head low but Harry knew his attention was focused on them. The couple was devastated, evidently, they had known that their son had been abducted from the footage the police had uncovered, had hired a private detective when the police had been unable to find him, but had got nothing.

By the time he was done talking to them, he saw Chloe stepping out of her car.

“This better be good, Styles,” she said once the couple was out of earshot, hair dishevelled and holding onto her coffee.

“Rough morning, Burcham?”

“This is your fault,” she accused, “Why can’t you ask for Miles?”

“I didn’t ask for you.”

“Well, that makes me feel special.” She handed over her coffee when they reached the body and Harry took it with an eye roll.

Sarah updated Chloe on the case while the latter evaluated the scene. Harry kept half his attention on Louis, knowing Chloe was more than capable of handling herself.

“This is not how I saw tonight proceeding,” Louis said under his breath, back to his normal self.

“Me neither.”

“Can’t murderers wait until Monday? People have plans,” Louis huffed. Harry barely held himself back from laughing. “I deserve a warm bath and a nice massage after this.”

“Are you sore, darling?” He smirked.

“Oh, shut it, Styles,” Louis shot him an accusatory glare, “No need to be so smug.”

“I might be inclined to give you a massage,” he tilted his head, “But you’ll have to say please.”

“I’ll say pretty please,” Louis shifted closer, coyly batting his eyes.

It had always been that easy between them; Louis had a naturally morbid sense of humour, and Harry’s came with the job. Louis fit perfectly into every aspect of his life. He was blessed to have a second chance.

Chloe snatched her coffee out of his hand and effectively pulled his attention away from the smug omega.

“He is running out of time, your perpetrator, or at least he thinks he is,” she said, “He thinks he is going to get caught, so he is trying to find someone who fits with him, but it goes against his beliefs so he marked this boy and then killed him.”

“He is starting to slip,” Harry surmised.

“There’s a chance to catch him before he goes back into hiding or changes his hunting grounds,” Louis added.

“Exactly,” Chloe nodded, “And who are you?”

“Louis Tomlinson.”

“Right, the Scammer,” her eyes brightened, intrigued.

Louis grimaced, “I’m not entirely fond of that name.”

“Well, it was either that or the Fraud Guy.”

“I take it you coined the latter.”

“Yeah, sadly it did not gather much fanfare,” she laughed. “I’m a fan by the way.”

“Chloe,” Harry warned, not that it deterred her.

“Oh, relax. It’s not like I’m telling him how obsessed you were with catching him,” she smirked, “Oops.”

Louis laughed beside him, “I’ve been hearing that.”

Chloe grinned, “In all honesty, it was quite entertaining to watch Rowen fret every time some government official had his account emptied.”

“Well, I’m glad I could entertain,” Louis grinned back.

“Don’t you need to give your profile to Rowen?” Harry asked Chloe, watching as her grin turned to a frown.

“Oh, yay, I get to write a report. Can’t wait,” she rolled her eyes, “Call Miles next time.”

“Gladly.”

“Screw you, too, Styles.”

“I like her,” Louis said when she walked away.

“Of course, you do.”

“So, you were obsessed with me?” Louis teased.

“I still am,” he shrugged, smirking when Louis turned red in the face.

The moon began to fade away from the sky by the time they cleared the scene; the ambulance carrying the body to the FBI for the autopsy.

Louis fell asleep on the drive home and Harry had the pleasure of carrying him inside and up to their room. Even as he dressed down the omega for bed, he pretended to be half-asleep, letting Harry bear his weight and manoeuvre him as he wanted.

“I haven’t forgotten about that massage,” Louis whispered once he was tucked into Harry’s side under the blanket, “I’m getting it later.”

“Okay.”

The night started to shed its coat and early sunlight flowed in from the tiny gaps between the curtains. Harry watched as it streaked the omega in shades of gold and red. Truly, the omega was an otherworldly creature, glowing with the moon and the sun; the two distant lovers reuniting over his skin.

“Aren’t you tired of my face?” Louis asked without lifting his eyes from Harry’s chest.

“Let me answer that with a question of my own,” Harry said, carefully tracing the shape of the omega’s mouth, “Do you think Botticelli ever got tired of immortalizing Simonetta Vespucci?”

“I… don’t know?” Louis laughed, confused, lifting his gaze to meet Harry’s.

Harry smiled back tenderly, “Contrary to what some historians may believe, the answer is no, darling. He died more than three decades after her and she was his muse until his last breath. He asked to be buried at her feet.”

“So, it’s your word against historians,” Louis said, evasive.

“I think, my love, one needs to experience the kind of consuming love that would make one welcome death with open arms in hopes of reuniting with their lover before even contemplating to know about it,” his words were both confident and vulnerable.

“And would you?” Louis whispered, eyes wide, an unmatched image of innocence, “Ask to be buried at my feet?”

“Even in death I would remain your disciple,” Harry confessed, turning with the omega and covering his body with his own, “I would serve you as long as you would want me to.”

“Of him I love day and night,” Louis said, as if recalling a forgotten piece, the sentiment resonating with them.

Harry kissed him as the day rose outside, forever devoted to his otherworldly creature.