Chapter Text
Chapter 1
John’s father was angry again.
It wasn’t at him, thank goodness. He’d only yelled at John once before, and it was an experience he wouldn’t care to repeat.
John put his headphones in and turned up his music, focusing on his drawings for Eliza’s birthday. He’d already drawn a pair of doves surrounded by daisies, and now he was working on a sunset. She always loved the sunset.
His father’s voice was suddenly much closer, and John turned to see him standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
Henry Laurens. Large. Loud-mouthed. Important. Arrogant. The textbook definition of a stereotypical Alpha. His already hard frown deepened when John pulled a headphone out. “Yeah?”
“I’m going out of town. There’s something that’s come up. Martha’s in charge.”
Marty, his little sister. She was younger than him by two years. He gritted his teeth, but said nothing. It wouldn’t do any good to start an argument now. Not when he was so close to having him out of the house.
John’s relationship to his father wasn’t exactly a good one.
“Do your homework,” Henry added.
“It’s summer.” And I’m nineteen years old. Don’t boss me around like I’m a damn child.
“Well, I’m sure there’s something productive you can do.” A beat, as if he was daring John to say something. John kept quiet. “I’ll be back in three days.”
John rolled his eyes at him and waited until he was gone to go downstairs and flip the door off. He didn’t want Henry to see him performing the gesture, but damn if he didn’t do it at least once.
“Not nice, Jack,” Marty said boredly from the couch. John glanced at the door one final time before plopping down next to her. She made a face at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“So,” he said, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Henry hated when he did that. “What’s the big national crisis that our super important father has to solve this time?”
“Hell if I know.” Marty popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth. John reached for some, and she handed him the bowl. The TV was on, but neither of them were really paying attention to it. “I’m guessing population.”
Ah, the population. The problem that’d been looming over everyone’s heads for the past two decades. It had all begun with an onslaught of natural disasters - hurricanes, tornadoes, volcanic eruptions, wildfires. Then there was an outbreak of something that mosquitos had been carrying. The virus alone wiped out half of the US population. They’d figured the worst of it was over after the last infected person died.
Next came the flooding, the droughts, and even more wildfires.
Mother Nature had been pissed off too many times, and she was raising hell.
“What’s our current number?” The wildfires were their most current threat, but they were safe in Norfolk. They only had the rising sea levels to worry about.
Marty gestured to the TV. “Looks like we just dropped below a hundred million.”
John whistled lowly, shaking his head. He set the popcorn aside and stared at the numbers on the screen, expecting them to fall even more. “Did you hear anything about the heat wave in Arizona?”
“I heard that they’re predicting another dust bowl in California. Body count’s only gonna rise.”
John turned off the TV. “You know what would be really great?”
“If they came up with an actual productive solution instead of focusing on increasing the population?”
“Yes.” He stood and started to pace. He did that when he felt agitated or excited. “Just imagine the results we’d see if the government actually started fucking taking care of the environment?”
Marty smiled wistfully. “That’d be nice.”
Sometimes John hated his privilege. His father was a US senator, and his mother’s family had been some of the first pioneers to colonize South Carolina. That meant that John would always live comfortably, so long as he remained in his father’s good graces. One of the many things he hated about that man was that he never seemed to use his position to help those who actually needed it.
“That’s what I’m going to do when I get rich,” John said.
“What’s that?”
“Help the poor.” He placed one of his feet on the coffee table for dramatic effect and leaned forward on it. “Once I graduate, Marty, I’ll get a job. Donate a portion of my paycheck to a charity. Spend more time at the shelters.”
“There you go. Maybe you can even climb your way up the social ladder at work. Convince the CEO that your cause is worthy of his time. Sucker others into helping, too.”
“There’d be a gala,” John said. “A giant gala, with suits that cost my entire tuition and huge oversized checks. Omegas would be walking around in three-pieces and red bowties, carrying trays of champagne. Everyone would show up just to show off their wealth. And to help the downtrodden, of course. Because that’s what the entire point of it would be.”
“God, I can see it now.” Marty assumed a terrible posh British accent. “I’m standing here with the esteemed George King the Third. Tell me, Mr. King, which charity are you donating to tonight?”
“Charity?” John scoffed, playing along. “I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about. I’m just here to show off my new cloak.” He snatched the throw off of the couch and draped it over his shoulders. “Isn’t it exquisite?”
“Oh, absolutely! And just look at that stitching. Simply beautiful!”
John twirled in his ‘cloak’. “The fabric was hand-made and treated with the tears of orphans.”
“That must have cost a fortune!”
“But of course! Only the best for the best!”
“What’re you two doing?”
They both turned to see Junior standing in the doorway, brows arched.
“Having fun,” Marty quipped. “You should try it sometime, killjoy.”
“I’ll have fun when I feel like it,” Junior grumbled, grabbing a handful of popcorn and falling into the recliner.
John and Marty exchanged a glance. “Something wrong?” John asked him. “Alicia?”
“She won’t text me back.”
Young love. Henry Junior was fifteen now. He was about that age. John remembered his high school encounters with a bitter smile. Hopefully things worked out better for his little brother. “I’ll bet she’s just busy.”
“I guess.” Junior set his phone aside. John marked it down as a victory in his book. “Dad seemed pretty pissed when he left.”
“Country’s coming apart at the seams. It’s enough to piss anyone off.” Marty shrugged. “I think they’re calling everyone in to come up with a solution. A way to stop the problems or prevent other disasters from happening.”
John snorted, falling back onto the couch. “Yeah. Let’s listen to the politicians instead of the scientists. Because that’s worked so well before.”
Marty threw a pillow at him. He caught it and swatted her with it. “Maybe they have scientists on staff, too. You’re such a pessimist sometimes.”
“Hey, I’m either always right or pleasantly surprised.”
“It’s too early to be screwing my brain with a paradox,” Junior griped. His phone beeped and he looked at it expectantly, then rolled his eyes and put it away again. “Just Dad.”
Marty’s phone went off a second later. She ignored it in favor of looking at her feet. Because that was the surefire way to make John feel better about his father’s refusal to text him, right?
But he couldn’t be mad at her. She was his baby sister.
James poked his head into the living room. “I got a text from Dad? When did he leave?”
“Probably somewhere between you playing Call of Duty and being a loser,” Junior said. James flipped him off.
“Hey,” John snapped. “We don’t flip people off. It’s rude.”
“So is calling someone a loser but I don’t hear you getting on to Junior for that,” James whined.
“Because it’s not rude if it’s true. Loser.”
“Enough, you two,” John said. “I’ll ground you both if I have to.”
“You’re not in charge, Jack,” Junior said. “Marty is.”
Marty gave him a look. “You do realize that I have backed up every decision Jack has made, right?”
Junior grew quiet. James stomped back up to his room.
John and Marty rolled their eyes at each other. Kids.
“On that happy note,” John said, standing, “I’m going to go for a run. I’ve gotta meet the guys at the park soon, anyway.”
Marty squeezed his arm, eyes apologetic. Sorry about Dad, she seemed to say. John just shrugged and kissed the top of her head before pulling on his sneakers and heading out the door.
John saw his friends sitting under their tree in the park and smiled, joining them.
“... all I’m saying is that it shouldn’t make a difference whether you’re an Alpha, Beta, or Omega. Skill is what’s important. Drive is what’s important. Not biology.”
“No one’s arguing with you,” Lafayette chuckled.
“But it’s so ridiculous! Why does everyone assume Omegas are automatically demure and submissive? That’s bullshit!” Alexander Hamilton threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “And just because they're built to have children doesn’t mean that they’re second-class citizens. Or that they deserve to be harassed in public.”
Alex and John had been best friends since Alex and Lafayette were adopted by George Washington when John was five.
“If anything, they should be valued,” John interjected, sitting down next to Alex. “They are only about thirty percent of the population. Pretty rare.” Alphas and Betas were both at an even 35.
Hercules and Lafayette seemed surprised by his arrival, but Alex didn’t miss a beat. “Thank you. And for the record, I’ll always think you’re the most valuable one here.”
“Hey!” Hercules and Lafayette said at the same time.
Alex simply shrugged.
John ignored the fluttering in his chest. He’d had feelings for Alex since he was twelve.
“Would it be alright if we talked about something other than social injustice for a moment?” John asked, resting his head comfortably in Alex’s lap. Alex automatically began to braid John’s hair.
“What happened?” Lafayette asked.
John sighed, closing his eyes and rolling his ankles. “I know I’m a blight on the family and all, but would it kill my father to at least pretend to care whether I live or die?”
“Probably,” Hercules said.
John snorted. “It just sucks. I mean, the Laurens family has been all Alphas for seven generations, and then I come along, and he blames me for tainting the bloodline even though my class isn’t something I can control. Believe me, if there was a magic pill that I could take to become an Alpha, I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat. But there isn’t. And I know that there are so many others out there who have worse problems than me -”
“Yours are still valid,” Lafayette said firmly.
John sighed and rubbed his face. “Sorry. I probably just killed the mood.”
“You interrupted one of Alex’s rants,” Hercules said. “We should be thanking you.”
Alex flicked an acorn at him. “Remember when we were kids and none of this mattered?”
John couldn’t think of a time when his class wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He’d always known he was an Omega - his father made sure he got the special test done. But at least his mother was still alive when he was littler. She made it better, easier. She’d told him that it didn’t matter, that his happiness was all she wanted for him. He’d almost believed her.
He remembered playing with Alex and Lafayette under the old oak tree, chasing each other with sticks or play-wrestling. He remembered sleeping over at Mr. Washington’s house when his father was in a bad mood. He remembered sometimes waking up in the nest that Mrs. Washington had created for them and curling up closer to Alex, briefly wondering if he’d be able to build nests that elaborate.
They’d met Hercules when they were thirteen. He was an Alpha, just like Alex. They could do anything they wanted to. Lafayette had pretty much all of the same rights as a Beta.
John would never see any executive floor unless he was cleaning it.
He’d never hold any position of power.
He hated it with a passion.
“I remember when you found a box turtle and cried when your mom wouldn’t let you keep it,” Lafayette laughed.
“I remember when you fell out of your window because you were trying to jump onto the tree branch,” John shot back.
“I remember when you drew that picture of the deer you saw and gave it to Alex, complete with little hearts surrounding your signature.”
“I think I still have that,” Alex said.
John ignored the warmth that settled through him with the thought of Alex keeping his childhood artwork. “I remember the day I first met you guys.”
Alex and Lafayette had both been living in the same foster home at the time of their adoption. Since Alex was older than Lafayette, he’d assumed the role of the big brother. It was something he and John had bonded over.
“I’m a big brother, too. I’ve got Marty and Junior and Mama’s having another baby soon.”
“I’ve got Gilbert.”
“Lafayette,” the four-year-old said indignantly. “Jutht Lafayette. No more Gilbert.”
Alex gave Lafayette a look and took his hand. “Okay. No more Gilbert.”
“You had the cutest lisp,” Alex teased.
Lafayette shot him a dirty look. “It took me two years to get over that.”
“And it still comes out when you’re upset,” Hercules added.
“Well, not everyone can have perfect speech patterns.” Lafayette moved and sat on top of John. “John, they’re being mean.”
John sat up and pretended to rock him. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.”
Hercules spluttered a laugh. “Daddy? If anyone in this group gets to be Daddy, it’s me. I’m the oldest. Good God, Lafayette, do not bat your eyelashes at me like that.”
“Why can’t I be Daddy?” Lafayette asked with a pout.
“You already are,” John said. “To Adri.”
“Do not bring my mate into this!” Lafayette scoffed, hopping off of John’s lap like it had caught fire. “She is too pure for that kind of talk!”
That was a damn lie and everyone knew it.
It didn’t stop Alex from saying, “Precious cinnamon roll, too pure for this world.”
“God, again with the meme references?” John groaned, lying back down.
“Maybe.” Alex tugged a loose strand of John’s hair lightly.
“Such meme,” Hercules said. “Much wow.”
“Not you, too. God, you’ve infected him, Alex!” John covered his face to hide his smile.
“I don’t always speak in memes,” Lafayette mocked. “But when I do, I use an old, lame format.”
Hercules stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re one to talk. One does not simply speak in memes, Laf.”
Lafayette launched himself at Hercules and they rolled around, play-wrestling. Alex and John watched them for a moment, then John nudged Alex. “You’ve created monsters. But that’s none of my business.”
Alex understood the reference after a second. “You forgot the Lipton tea, dumbass.”
“You mad bro?”
Alex tackled him. John struggled against his grip and they, too, wrestled until Alex had John’s shoulders pinned to the ground. “Say it.”
“Say what? Uncle?”
“No. Say your memes are trash.”
“Never!”
Alex arched an eyebrow. “Very well.” He lifted his head, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Dogpile on John!”
Hercules and Lafayette jumped on top of them, and John flailed around in a useless attempt to escape. They didn’t budge.
“Fine! My memes are trash.”
“Alex is the meme king,” Alex prompted.
John grumbled a little before muttering, “Alex is the meme king.”
Everyone got off and John stared at the sky, taking a moment to catch his breath. Alex poked him, a semi-concerned expression on his face. “You okay?”
“Oh, sure, now you’re asking. I’m fine.” John motioned to the sky. “The sunset’s pretty tonight.”
Alex lay on his back next to John. Lafayette and Hercules joined them. A comfortable silence washed over the group.
“You know,” Hercules said after a moment, “my mother used to say that when an artist dies, God lets them paint the sunset.”
“What happens when a lot of artists die on the same day, then?” Alex asked. “Would God let them paint the next day’s sunsets? But then what would happen when artists die on that day, too?”
“It’s just supposed to be a sweet sentiment” John couldn’t see Hercules’s face, but he knew he was rolling his eyes.
“Maybe God divides up sections of the sky for artists to paint. And that’s why sunsets look different all over the world.”
“I think God makes them collaborate,” John said. “Everyone has to pull their own weight, and that’s the only way to get past the gates.”
“So are non-artists... what's the word... oh, screwed?” Lafayette.
“I think everyone’s an artist, in their own right.”
“Hmm,” Alex hummed thoughtfully. “Knowing me, I’d make actual words from the clouds. Write a farewell address.”
“A farewell address?” Hercules barked out a laugh. “I’d probably keep it simple. Orange, with a splash of purples and pinks here and there.”
“I’d make it vibrant,” Lafayette said. “I’d use different oranges and reds, and just a touch of purple so it isn’t too loud.”
“I think my sky would have tons of fluffy clouds,” John said. “They’d be illuminated by the sun.”
Alex turned his head and looked at him. His eyes were unreadable. “None of you are allowed to die,” he finally said.
“Neither are you,” John said.
A quirk of the lips. John pushed back the urge to lean in. He loved him. He really did. He thought about what Alex had been like when they’d first met, almost timid and always quiet, and how he’d changed.
“What’re you thinking about?”
John hadn’t realized that he’d been staring.
“When we were little. You were so different.”
“I was.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know I had a voice, I guess. Or at least, I didn’t realize that there were people out there who wanted to hear it.” A smile, sadder this time. “I was in a pretty bad place when I came to the States.”
John squeezed his hand. Physical affection like this was normal, considering how starved for it they both had been when they were kids. Alex hadn’t liked being touched by anyone other than Lafayette or John. John only got so much love from his mother and siblings when he was little due to his ostracization by Henry.
He loved his mother very much, but he sometimes found himself resenting her for not standing up to his father. It wasn’t her fault. He knew that. She was an Omega and he was powerful and hated being told no. But she had bonded with him in the first place.
At least John was allowed in the nests.
If he ever had children, they would be fathered by a different kind of man.
Like Alex.
He pushed that thought away, even though he felt it deep in his chest. If he had to choose right at this moment, he’d pick Alex without any hesitation.
Alex, who was nodding off next to him. John smiled at that, a part of him longing to build a nest that he could relax in. Hercules and Lafayette, too, if they wanted.
He and Alex could buy a big house, far away from Henry. They’d bring his siblings, of course, and Frannie, Hercules, and Lafayette and Adrienne, and the Schuyler sisters and Maria. He and Eliza would build a giant nest in the middle of the living room, out of couch cushions, pillows, and fluffy blankets. They could all cuddle up together. Alex would hold him close, run a hand through his hair, murmur nothings against the top of his head as they fell asleep. Eliza and Maria would be curled up next to them - Alex was much closer to them than John was, but he loved them too. Then Peggy and Angelica, and his siblings. Frannie would be on their other side, right next to Hercules, Lafayette, and Adrienne. They’d wake up in the morning and eat pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hash browns.
And maybe, in a few years, John would wake up one morning to the feel of smaller hands on his face and he’d open his eyes to see ones that were as dark as Alex’s, only belonging to someone much younger. Someone with curly black hair and freckles.
Only when the time was right, of course. He’d want to have a stable job before he even thought of having children. Alex would write for the Times, like he’d always wanted to do. Maybe he’d be a columnist. Or maybe he’d make editor-in-chief, if he wanted to take a break from writing.
Although he highly doubted Alex would ever put down his pen.
John would do his best with his degrees in environmental science and law. He’d probably land a job as a law clerk or paralegal. Maybe after thirty years of hard work, he’d get to be an associate for a couple of years before he had to retire.
“You awake, John?”
“Hmm?” He was yanked from his thoughts and cracked an eye open at Alex. “Yeah. I’m awake.”
“It’s getting late, mon ami. Adrienne wishes for me to return home.”
“Why, though.”
Alex swatted John. “You’re trash.”
“So sorry, your highness. Say hi to her for me, Laf.”
Lafayette stretched and hugged everyone before walking down the hill. Alex watched him, a slightly sour expression on his face.
“You’ll see him again soon,” John said to him.
“I know.” Alex flopped back down onto the grass. “I still don’t think he needed to move in with her.”
“They’re bonded now,” Hercules said. They’d had this conversation before. “They want to spend some time together. Besides, Laf’s in college. It was as good a time as any to flee the coop.”
“Fly the coop,” Alex corrected, but didn’t say anything else.
Lafayette and Adrienne had been together for three years. They’d bonded as soon as Lafayette turned eighteen last September. They were still seniors in high school at the time. Everyone had been surprised, and the Washingtons had been less than pleased. Alex had been pissed.
It only got worse when Lafayette announced his intentions to move into an apartment with her as soon as they graduated. They’d fought for the entirety of winter break, and through about half of the spring semester. Finally, John and Frannie conducted an intervention for the two of them. They made up shortly after, but things were still a little tense from time to time.
John understood. Letting a little brother or sister grow up wasn’t easy. He was learning it first hand with Marty, who had transformed from the thirteen year old with braces and an awkward smile to a graceful young lady that was already much smarter than John would ever be. She’d be a senior this year, and then she was going off to college to study astrophysics and change the world. She was steadily changing from his kid sister to his ally and confidant, his second-in-command when they were watching the other kids. And while it was nice to have someone else to help, he missed her shy requests for advice on wooing boys or creating course schedules or surviving high school.
He’d eventually have to deal with all of them growing up, but it was inevitable. He just didn’t like to dwell on it.
“Think I’m gonna head home, too,” Hercules said, stretching. “Maybe go by the store and buy some tequila or something.” He’d just turned twenty-one. “Have a good night.”
John turned to Alex, who was staring up at the sky, face blank. “You wanna spend the night at my place? Dinner will be provided.”
“Well in that case...” He smiled at John and pulled out his phone. “Need to text George and let him know so he doesn’t call in the SWAT team when I don’t come home.”
John hadn’t come home for several days once. Henry hadn’t even noticed.
They walked back to the Laurens’ property and headed inside. Mary Eleanor ran into the foyer as soon as the door shut and threw her arms around John’s leg. She was the youngest of the children at four years old.
“Jacky,” she chirped happily. John scooped her up and she grinned, hugging him around the neck.
“Hey, kiddo. Were you waiting up for me?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Want a nest.”
“Didn’t I just build you one yesterday?”
Mary Eleanor pouted. “James took it apart.”
John was going to have to talk to him about that later. “Tell you what, we’ll make another one after dinner and we won’t let James near it. How’s that sound?”
“Good!” She looked over his shoulder. “Hi, ‘Lex.”
“Hey, Polly.”
“Wanna make a nest with us?”
John opened his mouth to explain that Alphas didn’t typically build nests, but then Alex said, “Sure.” John pointedly ignored the little jump his heart did.
Marty appeared in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back into a frazzled bun and a couple of strands had fallen form it. Her cheeks were a little more flushed than normal, and she’d swapped her contacts for her thick glasses, which had slid down the bridge of her nose. “Glad you’re home, Jack. I need your help with dinner. I’m -” She glanced down. “I’m struggling.”
John put Mary Eleanor down and kissed the top of her head before following Marty into the kitchen, Alex trailing a little ways behind. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I need to make the sauce and cook the chicken, and the water's about to boil, but I can't leave anything on the burner without stirring it because it'll burn. And I haven't even started on the bread yet, because I forgot which cheese to use.”
“Got it. I'll take care of the bread and the sauce if you want to take over the chicken and pasta?”
Marty nodded, and they got to work. He caught Alex's eye and smiled, a little apologetically. He shrugged, sitting at the bar and watching. “Maybe I'll finally learn how to cook if I watch you,” he joked.
“You can cook.”
“Sure. In the microwave.”
John chuckled and got cheese out of the fridge, and a knife. “Where are the other kids?”
“Grounded in their rooms.”
John sighed. “What’d they do?”
Marty glanced at Mary Eleanor, who was climbing into the barstool next to Alex. Then she leaned closer to John and whispered, “James called Junior a douchebag and then Junior tried to swing.”
John shook his head. “I’ll talk to them later tonight.” He dropped a kiss to her head. “They won’t hate you forever.”
She smiled. “Stop reading my mind. Now tell me what the sweet hell I’m supposed to be doing.”
John smirked at her, washing his hands and starting a base for the sauce before pulling out the bread. “Mama used a mixture of mozzarella and provolone. She layered it, but it’s easier to mix the cheeses together before putting them on the bread.” He buttered the loaf and added garlic, then put the cheese on top. He put the bread in the oven and checked on the sauce. “Sauce is easy. Heavy cream, butter, garlic, parmesan, a bit of provolone, salt, pepper.”
“Butter?” Alex asked. “With cream?”
“Says the one who claims that he can’t cook.”
“I’m just saying.” He held up his hands.
“Makes it richer,” John said. He noticed that Marty was stirring the boiling pasta and the chicken. “When did you put the noodles in?”
“About a minute ago?”
John flipped the heat off and put the lid on the pot. “Remember that trick I taught you about pasta?”
“It’s done when it sticks to the wall?”
“The other one.”
She shook her head, reaching blindly for the pepper. John handed it to her.
“You can let the pasta boil for a minute then remove it from the heat, cover it, and let it set for however long the box says to cook it. Frees up a hand.” He looked at the pan with the chicken and grabbed the bottle of olive oil. “Add a little more.”
Marty leaned against him and rested her head on his bicep. “What am I going to do when you go off to college again this fall?”
“I’ll miss you too, Mars.”
He was to go back to Columbia come late August. He and Alex were both going to be sophomores, although Alex had been doing a couple of summer courses so he could graduate early and go on to get his graduate degree in English.
Maybe John would take some courses next summer, too. Work his ass off so he could graduate as quickly as possible, get his law degree sooner than expected, and start working his way up.
Twenty-five years ago, no one would have ever dreamed that an Omega would even be permitted to become a lawyer, or an engineer, or anything, really. There were specialized 'Omega colleges' that offered half-assed courses in random fields of study that made absolutely no sense. Omegas would graduate with a certificate instead of a degree, and only be offered entry-level jobs with no hopes of advancement. Even now, the chances of receiving promotions were slim to none, but at least the opportunity was there.
John would just have to work really hard to get it.
Alex was up against his own odds, too. He was a bastard orphan from the Caribbean. No one took him seriously for the first twelve years of his life, save for the Washingtons and himself, of course. Then, when his scent gland developed and he was branded an Alpha, everyone was surprised because there was no way that Alexander Hamilton, the scrappy, lanky kid who cried during thunderstorms, was an Alpha. He'd spent the past seven years of his life fighting against the prejudice and labels that came with his biology.
John felt like he'd always known Alex was an Alpha. He was shorter and skinnier than average, sure, but he had a quick wit and high intelligence. And when he spoke, his eyes lit up with passion and fire that made John's chest ache. Alex could manipulate the English language on a whim, command a room with a few simple words that maybe wouldn't have as much meaning if Alex hadn't been the one holding the pen. Alex's physique might not have given him away, but his mind did.
Or maybe John was just in love.
“John says you’re the bestest,” he heard Mary Eleanor inform Alex conversationally. He stared down at the sauce, feeling his cheeks redden. He hadn’t told anyone about his feelings for Alex, but apparently Mary Eleanor had picked up on them.
“Oh yeah? Well don’t tell him I said this, but I think he’s the bestest.”
Mary Eleanor giggled and John rolled his eyes.
“I drawed a picture in preschool today, ‘Lex.”
“You drew a picture,” Marty corrected her. “Jack, is the chicken-?”
He looked over at it and cut into one of the bigger pieces with the spoon. “Yeah, it’s pretty much done. Just let it simmer for a minute. The sauce is done, too, and the pasta has about two and a half minutes left. I’m going to get the boys.”
John returned with James and Junior a couple of minutes later. They’d had a talk, and the boys would be on their best behavior throughout dinner. The food itself was a very big hit - even Mary Eleanor, who was notoriously picky, claimed that it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
After the meal, James and Junior volunteered to do the dishes. Marty went outside to stargaze, and Mary Eleanor dragged John and Alex up to her room, chattering excitedly.
“Want it to smell like you and Marty and Junior and ‘Lex. Not James, though.”
John looked over his shoulder at her as he pulled blankets from the closet. “You want it to smell like Alex?”
She nodded, and Alex shrugged, taking off his shirt. John took it from him wordlessly, going back to his own room and grabbing a blanket as well as a t-shirt, which he handed to Alex. John removed one of Junior’s extra pillows from his bed and the extra throw Marty kept on her bed in cases like these.
With the help of Alex, who had never really built a nest before, they got to work. Pillows went on the bottom, followed by a couple of layers of blankets, then the scented items, and then another blanket and finally a sheet. Mary Eleanor curled up on top of it, yawning and stretching out, taking the teddy bear John handed her. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead before checking to make sure her nightlight was on and leaving, making sure the door stayed cracked.
“Your nests are easily the most comfortable,” Alex said when they were on the couch. James and Junior were back in their rooms. Marty was still outside. “I mean, it’s not a surprise. You’ve gotten a lot of practice in over the years.”
“Yeah.” John found himself looking at the overmantel of the fireplace that they never lit anymore. Mama’s picture used to hang there. Henry had taken it down the day she died. It was because of her that he knew how to make decent nests. It was because of her that he knew how to cook, how to take care of the kids, how to do the laundry. Everything that he’d done for his family, he’d learned from her.
“You do a great job here,” Alex said, as if he’d read his thoughts. “They all really look up to you. They respect you, respect your authority.”
“I’m not the head of the house.”
“You might as well be.”
“But I’m an Omega.”
“So? That didn't stop you from applying to Columbia or signing up for eighteen credit hours in your first semester. And it didn't stop you from punching that asshole in the face last winter for trying to grab Eliza's ass. Or standing up to your professor when he gave you an unfair grade on your paper. And it isn't stopping these kids from following you. You may be an Omega, John, but I have no doubt you'd be a great leader if the world gave you half a chance.”
John swallowed. “Alex...”
“I know it's unheard of, but if anyone's going to change things around here, it's you. If anyone can convince someone to change their policy, it's you.”
“You are the bestest,” John said, moving over to him and resting his head on his shoulder.
“Aww, thanks.”
John glanced back at the empty overmantel. “You think she’d be proud?”
“I think she’d be astounded by how well you’ve taken over.” Alex rested his cheek on top of John’s head and took one of his hands, playing with it lightly. “Especially since you’ve practically raised Polly and James both. I just wish your dad wasn’t such a dick to you.”
“I think it wouldn’t have been as bad if I’d been born a girl,” John murmured, looking down at their hands. “Because he’s sexist as hell, too. But when Mama was still alive... he kept it to a minimum.”
It had been four years. Sometimes it felt like an eternity had passed. Others, it felt like it happened yesterday.
They lapsed into silence until Mary Eleanor came downstairs a few minutes later, complaining of a nightmare. She wanted comfort from both of them.
“Stay with me,” she begged when John tucked her into her nest. “Bad dreams don't come if I'm not alone.”
John and Alex exchanged a glance, then climbed into the nest. Mary Eleanor slept soundly for the rest of the night, sandwiched between the two boys.