Jackson goes through the very lovely experience of presenting. At the same time as Ramona. Just, absolutely fantastic. No sexual content.

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics.

This first chapter was a one-shot inspired by a prompt from my Promptastic Challenge over on Ao3. Please feel free to submit a prompt for me over there! Or to use one for your own one-shot. ;)

Presenting is a Bitch

Jackson threw his backpack towards the floor and promptly flung himself onto his bed. Face down.

It had been a long, looong, day.

Mostly because of Ramona. Ok. Entirely because of Ramona. Snapping at everyone at breakfast, talking back to teachers at school, she'd somehow managed to ostrize her entire clique by lunch. And then she'd sat with him!

Him! At lunch!

And what did he do? He sat there. Just. Sat there.

Ramona didn't talk him. No, of course not, that would have been useful! No. She'd just sat there too. Picking at her food. Pressing her arm against his.

God, it had only gotten worse from there.

Stolen his backpack to use as a pillow during study hall.

Yeah. That went over well with his teacher. He got detention! For something she did!

Ok. Ok. He might have made a remark about letting sleeping hyenas lie, but come on! Ramona had been bitchy all day. If she was asleep she couldn't yell at him!

Not that she had actually. Now that he thought about. In fact, she hadn't said a word to him all day.

Jackson flipped over onto his back, narrowing his eyes on the ceiling.

"She had to have yelled at me…" Jackson twisted his lips in thought, "It's Ramona." It's basically been her job for the last few years.

Uncle Jessie had even commented!

Though it had been in reference to the horribleness of having two teenagers going through puberty at the same time.

But it was right after Ramona had made a crack about his shirt and told him to stop embarrassing himself and her at school with his sense of style.

So it was Ramona's fault.

Jackson sat up suddenly.

Ramona hadn't made one joke about him all day.

Not. One.

"Maybe she's dying?" Jackson stood up. He kind of wanted to check now. He'd basically been wrangling her all day after all. Plus, what if Max or Tommy stepped into her warpath.

It was his civic duty as an older brother! Really!

It had absolutely nothing to do with the nagging worry in the back of his head. Or the odd desire to protect her.

Ramona was his archnemisis.

"An archnemisis is a terrible thing to waste," Jackson said to himself as he swung his legs to side and got out of bed. He crossed the hall and froze in her doorway.

She was on the floor, back against her bed and knees drawn up.

"What's wrong?" Jackson ventured further in, closing the door behind him as Ramona's head swung back.

Her face was coated in sweat and she made a groaning noise as she rubbed a hand over her face and into her hair.

"I don't know," Ramona whined, her voice squeaking as she tried to speak. It sounded like his when his voice was changing, but Jackson was pretty positive girls' voices didn't do that.

He plopped down beside her, back against the foot of the bed. Ramano scooched closer to him. Just like at lunch. Their legs bumped against each other as she stretched hers out.

"Ramona?" Jackson's voice hitched as she curled against his side. Her head on his shoulder and her arm tucked between them. She shook her head. Whatever words she tried to use came out as nothing more than a pained whimper.

Jackson swallowed hard as Ramona curled her legs up into his side as well. Her knees practically in his lap. She breathed out. A slow, steady breath.

That odd desire to protect her surged forward.

Ramona pressed her face into his neck when he wrapped his arm around her back. She emitted a sort of mewling noise that reminded Jackson of a cat.

That was good. A good noise.

There was still that nagging worry in the back of his mind, but it was almost entirely drowned out by how good Ramona smelled.

She liked lots of floral scents, spicy floral scents with weird names. There was a sweet scent on top of it. Lathered over the florals and her natural, slightly musky, scent.

Really sweet. Like candy. Or chocolate.

But better.

Jackson had absolutely no idea.

He rested his head against hers, burying his nose in her hair. It was a really good smell.

Ramona's hand gripped into his shirt, her fingers twisting in it as she pressed her face further against his neck.

And that! That was when the worry part of his brain supplied him with the necessary information from Freshman Year's Health class. About pheromones and phenotype presenting.

He hadn't payed that much attention. His mom, Stephanie, and Kimmy were all betas. So were his grandparents. And all the Gibblers were betas!

Jackson had been pretty positive he was going to be a beta. Ramona too actually. It was the most common. It made sense.

Except!

His dad was an alpha.

And so, apparently, was he. How'd he know that?

Well…

"Ramona?" Jackson forcefully tugged his face from her hair, "I think you might be presenting." She pressed deeper into his throat. She was all but in his lap now. "As an omega."

"Mmm," Ramona opened her mouth, her lips skimming across neck, "No."

Jackson's head was swimming. The sweet smell still stuck in his nose. His throat tingled where her lips had brushed his.

"Yes," Jackson breathed out. Ramona shook her head. Her leg crossed over his. She was officially stradling him.

There was a very big part of him, basically everything below his eyebrows, telling him to bury his face in Ramona's scent. Amongst other things. Things everything above his eyebrows was telling him Not to Think About. All Caps. With Exclamation Points!

Ramona made another mewling nose.

Whatever instinct took control in that moment was more concerned with long-term survival because it pushed Ramona off of him.

Jackson sprung to his feet, ignored the pained whimpers that Ramona was making, and fled the room. It also apparebtly left her door open because there was a stampede up the stairs that ended with Kimmy shouting Ramona's name.

Betas have the weakest nose.

That would have been a lovely thing to remember earlier. Along with all the other crap about alphas and omegas! Jackson wasn't even sure he knew any adult alphas.

Aunt Michelle? Uncle Jesse?

Eh! Why didn't people talk about this stuff more?!

"Jackson?"

That was his mom. He could still smell Ramona. Could still hear every noise coming from her room.

"Yeah?" His voice croaked. He crawled away from his door towards his bed.

Jackson planted himself between his closet and the bed. Far from the door that led to Ramona and the window where about a Bazillion noises were coming from. Loudly.

His mom was in front of him.

Jackson squinted at her. She was standing in the middle of his room, sort of fuzzy. The sweet smell was stronger.

"Door." His voice kept croaking. What the hell? And why the hell was the air so thick?! It felt like he was trying to breath water.

His mom's hand was cold on his face. He didn't have to squint. The sweet smell was sort of fading. Good. Good.

Sorta.

"Stephanie's calling Joey," his mom had a washcloth now. Where did that come from? She was wiping his face off.

Why was it so hot?

"He'll be here soon," her voice was kind of pitchy. She was worried.

Wait.

"Why's Joey?" And now his voice was sluring. Great.

She smiled at him, "He's an alpha, honey, he'll know how to help you." That sounded good. Very good.

Except...

"Ramona?" That came out clearly.

Probably not for a good reason.

That weird protective…thing…was sort of…flickering.

His mom placed a hand on his shoulder. Was he sitting up? Why did he do that?

"Kimmy's already quarantined her." Her hand pushed at his shoulder. He shrugged it of. "Fernando will get here first. He'll take care of Ramona. Ok?" Ok. That was ok.

Yeah.

Yup.

Ok.

Today had been Really Long. Like. Really Long.

God!

Presenting was a bitch.

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