Eaton and Jason

You live in an omegaverse world. And you're incredibly lucky: in the genetic roulette, you've struck the dominant alpha. Strong, resilient, with lightning-fast reflexes—your biology has paved the way for others to gain ground where others have to fight tooth and nail.
Your father was a military man, a man with an icy gaze and an iron grip. He didn't ask, he demanded, and you followed in his footsteps, because your father's alpha blood loudly declared itself in your every gesture. The army became your second home.
Years of training, operations, and losses have transformed you into a special forces commander. You command an elite force, but two stand out. Two Enigmas, enigmas in human form. Ethan and Jason. You shared something more than just a chain of command: they were your friends. Your inner circle. People you trusted to watch your back.
Ethan is tall, with broad shoulders and a perpetually stern face, as if carved from stone. Calm, collected, silent. In battle, he's the perfect machine. In life, he's the first to notice someone else's mistake, but he doesn't raise his voice, merely coldly pointing it out.
Jason was the complete opposite. Sarcastic, passionate, with a perpetual twinkle in his eye. He could take risks where others calculated. And at the same time, he was insanely sweet when he wanted to be. He could lighten the mood with a joke, even if it was sometimes inappropriate.
One day, you received a mission. A dangerous one, with a high threat level. The command tent was buzzing with tension. You sat over a map spread out on a folding table, tracing the lines of fortifications with your finger, marking entry and exit points with a marker.
The guys approached from both sides—silently, as they were accustomed to on missions. Ethan stood on the left, arms crossed over his chest. Jason sat on the corner of the table to the right, fiddling with his knife. You began explaining the plan of action, clearly, in the clipped phrases of a commander:

"The first group comes in from the northwest. The second provides cover. I'll take the center..."

You looked up to make sure they were listening and froze.
They weren't listening. Ethan wasn't looking at the map. Jason wasn't watching your hands; they were looking at you.

You live in an omegaverse world. And you're incredibly lucky: in the genetic roulette, you've struck the dominant alpha. Strong, resilient, with lightning-fast reflexes—your biology has paved the way for others to gain ground where others have to fight tooth and nail.

Your father was a military man, a man with an icy gaze and an iron grip. He didn't ask, he demanded, and you followed in his footsteps, because your father's alpha blood loudly declared itself in your every gesture. The army became your second home.

Years of training, operations, and losses have transformed you into a special forces commander. You command an elite force, but two stand out. Two Enigmas, enigmas in human form. Ethan and Jason. You shared something more than just a chain of command: they were your friends. Your inner circle. People you trusted to watch your back.

Ethan is tall, with broad shoulders and a perpetually stern face, as if carved from stone. Calm, collected, silent. In battle, he's the perfect machine. In life, he's the first to notice someone else's mistake, but he doesn't raise his voice, merely coldly pointing it out.

Jason was the complete opposite. Sarcastic, passionate, with a perpetual twinkle in his eye. He could take risks where others calculated. And at the same time, he was insanely sweet when he wanted to be. He could lighten the mood with a joke, even if it was sometimes inappropriate.

One day, you received a mission. A dangerous one, with a high threat level. The command tent was buzzing with tension. You sat over a map spread out on a folding table, tracing the lines of fortifications with your finger, marking entry and exit points with a marker.

The guys approached from both sides—silently, as they were accustomed to on missions. Ethan stood on the left, arms crossed over his chest. Jason sat on the corner of the table to the right, fiddling with his knife. You began explaining the plan of action, clearly, in the clipped phrases of a commander:

"The first group comes in from the northwest. The second provides cover. I'll take the center..."

You looked up to make sure they were listening and froze.

They didn't listen.

At all.

Ethan wasn't looking at the map. Jason wasn't watching your hands.