Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

The Most Awkward Doctor's Visit in History

Jackson hated doctors.

There were needles and bright lights and condescension by the ton. Plus his mom nodded along to all their medical jargon and responded in kind so he never had any clue what was going on.

Dr. Ngo was worse.

He had all that, plus extra intrusive questions. In front of his mother. About sex. And masturbation.

So. So much worse.

"Alright," the short, and annoyingly fit, doctor looked down at his clipboard, "Why don't you tell me what induced the pheromone fever?"

"Pheromone…?"

"We were arguing about a fight he got into at school." DJ pipped up from the chair next to the exam table, the magazine she was pretending to read was upside down.

Dr. Ngo shook his head, "I doubt the argument caused it." DJ frowned. "Mr. Fuller?"

Jackson blinked at the focused stare. He fidgeted. Ngo was an alpha. He smelled like burnt sugar and he radiated control.

It was very annoying because Jackson felt like he had zero.

"I have no idea," Jackson shrugged, "I'm not really sure what happened at all."

"Basically, you overheated," Dr. Ngo kept eye contact with him, "You're heart rate and temperature spiked because you pheromones created an imbalance in your brain chemistry."

"That sounds…"

"Deadly?" Dr. Ngo raised an eyebrow at him, "It is." He held the clipboard to his chest, "They're usually triggered by your instincts. Or more specifically, by ignoring them. Adrenaline increases slowly, causing increased aggression and lack of impulse control."

Jackson gulped. He had a bad feeling about the way his mom had just straightened in her chair.

"If improperly treated, the adrenaline will spike for long enough and your heart will give out."

Dr. Ngo did not sugar coat.

"So," He raised his eyebrow again, "What caused the fever, Mr. Fuller?"

"I was kinda worried about…Ramona. Earlier." Jackson did not look at his mom. He could feel her stare. And his stupid blush. "It was way earlier though. At lunch."

The clipboard came back down, "Ramona is the omega that lives with you?" Ngo looked at his mother then.

"Yes," DJ's voice was sharp, like a whistle in his ear, "She's on suppressants though."

"Hmm," Ngo was looking at him again, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Jackson," that could not be good, "What does Ramona smell like to you?"

Jackson gulped, "The suppressant or her?" Ngo smirked. "What?"

"Can you smell the difference between other omegas and their suppressants?"

The answer was no. But he'd never actually tried. Mankowski and Gene were not exactly people he wanted to parse scents for.

"That a no?" Ngo raised an eyebrow, "Do their suppressants smell different?"

"Mankowski's is a sour milk smell," Jackson shrugged, "Gene's is rotting brussel sprouts."

Ngo waited. And waited. Eyebrow raised and pen poised over the clipboard.

"Ramona's is a sour lemon. It's super strong," Jackson wrinkled his nose, "I can't even smell oranges anymore without getting nauseous."

Ngo scribbled. And scribbled.

And scribbled.

Jackson really wanted to throw the clipboard at the wall.

He tighten his fingers around the edge of the exam table. It was a thick cushion. His fingers couldn't pierce it.

"Jackson and Ramona presented on the same day," DJ cut in, a heavy sweat scent giving away her concern even with her steady voice, "He was with her when she went into heat. Could that impact him in anyway?"

Ngo had laser eyes now. Double eyebrow raise.

"If something happened, yes," Ngo turned from DJ to Jackson, "Mr. Fuller?"

Laser. Eyes.

"No," Jackson shook his head, ignored his mother's scoff. Nothing Had Happened!

His grip tightened on the exam table.

"It wouldn't have to be sexual," Ngo held the clipboard to his chest, "Mere proximity, if -"

"There was some cuddling."

Jackson looked at Ngo's shoes. Shiny, black loafers. If he stared hard enough he could make out the stitching around the toe.

"Ramona kind of," Jackson bit his lip, "burrowed into my side."

Ngo made a humming noise, "Did her face come into contact with the scent glands in your neck?"

Jackson teetered for a second on the edge of lying.

"Yeah," he admitted. When Jackson glanced over his mom looked confused by the questions.

If it weren't for stupid Popko and his obsessive googling Jackson would be similarly confused.

"Then that explains the fever," Ngo sighed, "It was probably building for a while." Jackson pursed his lips. "It seemed this Ramona is marked with Jackson's scent."

His mom reacted…exactly as expected.

An acidic cherry scent spread over the room, "What?!"

Yup.

Ngo spent the next ten minutes explaining scent marking to his mother.

Which was kind of funny, because Jackson had assumed she'd know that much since alphas supposedly marked their mates. She'd been married to his dad for over a decade.

Maybe it wasn't as common as the internet led him to believe.

"I assure you Mrs. Fuller there's nothing nefarious about this," Ngo sighed, long and heavy, "It's downright understandable given the situation you just described."

Yeah. Jackson didn't really agree with that. Understandable was not the word he would chose.

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Discomforting.

All good words. All Understandable words.

"What are we suppose to do?" DJ threw her hands in the air. "Separate them?"

"Definitely not," Ngo's voice was hard. It cut through the acidic scent like it was butter.

DJ started and sat back down, "Bad idea?"

"Very." Ngo took a seat on his stool and started typing, "Jackson would likely have fevers more frequently and the effects on an omega can be more acute. If slower acting."

"What do you suggest?" DJ crossed her arms, eyebrow raised.

And the cherry scent returned.

Ngo turned to her, face flat and focused. His burnt sugar scent grew thicker, "I'd like to coordinate with the omega's specialist - her suppressant may be unnecessary in this situation."

DJ uncrossed her arms and sat back down in her chair, "I'll get the info from Kimmy today and send it over." Ngo nodded.

Jackson was fairly positive this was the most awkward doctor's visit in the history of the world.

Ngo returned to look at Jackson. His left eyebrow raised. "Now, about scent marking."

And! Now it was worse!

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