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

Wanted to write a chapter from Ramona's perspective because why not? Also, this chapter would have been WAY more awkward to write from Jackson's perspective.

Jackson's Keeper

Three weeks off her scent suppressant and only two people had noticed. Or, only two people had commented. Lola had said Ramona smelled worse now and Rocki had cornered her after Geometry to ask if she needed to kick Jackson's ass.

It was oddly touching.

Jackson had managed to entirely avoid the subject, at least with her, and Ramona hadn't decided if that bugged her yet. Ok, it did, but she hadn't decided if she was doing anything about it.

This was an awkward situation and Ramona was attempting to be sensitive to Jackson's feelings. He'd definitely gotten the short end of the stick post-presentation. Plus, he was still grounded for fighting at school.

"Hey, Ramona," Popko approached her lunch table.
The other three girls glared at him, "You seen Jackson?"

Ramona arched eyebrow, "I'm not his keeper."

"Did he come to school today or not?" Popko rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, "He missed study hall and Gene said he was MIA for history too."

There was an acidic flavour rising in her mouth, "My Uncle Jimmy dropped us off together this morning."

"Great," Popko groaned, "Ditching class. He's never gonna get ungrounded." Popko's jaw was clenched as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Ramona called him, which drew more than just his raised eyebrow, "Where do you think he went?" Popko shrugged and kept walking.

Ramona groaned, shoving her food away to set her head down on the table. The acid in her mouth had dropped straight to her stomach.

"I think I actually am his keeper," Ramona grumbled out. Lola patted her shoulder.

Jackson showed back up halfway through the next period. She was paying attention now. His scent was stronger now, more distinct - a development she was blaming on the marking.

She got a hall pass from her teacher for the bathroom and then rushed through mostly empty hallways. Jackson was at his locker. His forehead pressed against the door.

"Go away, Ramona," Jackson waved his hand at her without ever moving his head. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You skipped class," Ramona hissed at him, "DJ is going to kill you!" He hmmed. Ramona stepped forward to grab his arm.

Rather than yanking on his arm, Ramona found herself pinned to the locker. Jackson held her there with a single hand on her shoulder.

"What the he-" Ramona's anger stopped on her lips. Jackson's eyes were pinpricks and accompanied by dark circles. Raccoon level dark. "Are you okay?"

His hand flexed, "Just. Go away." He left. His footsteps dragging. Ramona stayed, her back against his locker, and gasped down a steadying breath. His scent filled her lungs, pushing out the acidic burn that had spread through her whole body.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Ramona growled to herself. Her return to American History was met with a few raised eyebrows and a disgruntled shrug from their teacher. Ramona ignored them.

There was no further Jackson incidents. She didn't even see him till after dance when she passed by his room.

Jackson was lying face down on his bed, a pillow over his head. His fingers were gripping the pillow so tightly Ramona was surprised the fabric hadn't ripped. She hesitated by his door.

He shifted his head to look at her. She took an unconscious step back at the glare on his face. His pupils were blown wide now and her stomach clenched. She fled for her room.

"He's been grouchy since he got home," Max didn't knock before he strolled into her room, "He even snapped at Tommy when he tried to get him to come out of his room!"

"He can probably hear you, you know," Ramona whispered as she spun in her desk chair to face him.

Max threw his hands in the air, "So what?! He was rude first!" Max stuck his lower lip out, "He's never this horrible though, especially not to Tommy, did something happen?" His head tilted and his eyes wide, Ramona had a hard time lying.

"I don't know," Ramona bit her lip and turned back to her desk. Max scoffed. "Something happened, I think." Ramona looked back at him, "I don't know what though. He told me to go away."

"Well," Max's chin raised in the air, "At least he's being a jerk to everyone." Max strolled out of her room and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

Ramona smiled, shook her head. She glanced to the wall she shared with Jackson's room, "He's worried about you."

Jackson didn't respond. Ramona turned back to her computer. She had homework to do.

Homework that she ignored in favor of playing keeper to Jackson Fuller. What was her life?

Some quick digital interrogations had gotten her the near exact time of Jackson's departure from school: after first period, before second. She knew he'd returned halfway through fifth period.

Roughly three hours was not a lot of time to go anywhere in San Francisco, not with midday traffic. The BART didn't have the greatest of radius' and Ramona was fairly positive Jackson wouldn't take it or a bus. Lola said public transit smelled almost as bad as public restrooms, sometimes worse.

With Lola and Rocki's assistance she'd narrowed down routes and possible locations. The answer stared up at her with a clear certainty.

The Alpha Physiology Clinic. Dr. Ngo.

Wikipedia and WebMD were her next stops. She read symptom lists and lists of alpha-specific diseases - there were an alarming amount.

'Ding!'

Messenger popped up on the side of her screen. Jackson's smiling face looking down at her from his minatured profile picture.

Stop it

Ramona gulped.

What?!

She straightened in her chair. If Jackson didn't want her snooping he should just tell her what was wrong. She was a Gibbler damn it! She had a reputation to uphold!

Whatever is freaking you out

…what?

You smelled worried
And nervous
It's giving me a headache

Ramona narrowed her eyes at the screen. The chair spun as she sprung from the room. Jackson jumped when she slammed his door behind her.

"Are you kidding me?!" Ramona seethed as she shoved at the lump of teenage boy in Jackson's bed. He stumbled a bit, flinching away from her touch and falling onto the floor.

She paced as she cursed him out. Slipping in and out of Spanish as she ran out of insults. Her heart rate was up and her breathing ragged. Jackson didn't make a sound.

"Are you going to speak or just sit there?!"

When Ramona rounded the corner she expected to find him still lying on the floor. The same rude glower on his face as earlier. Nope.

Jackson was sitting back against the side of his bed, head pressed against the mattress as he grimaced. Ramina sniffed - the air was thick, an acidy scent that turned her stomach.

"Are you-"

He growled. An actual, out-and-out growl. Her stomach turned again. That time not from nausea.

She looked him over - his body was trembling, his shoulders shook, and he was damp with sweat. Her eyes halted on his lap. His jeans were undone and his hand pressed down against an erection thankfully covered by Star Wars boxers.

But the air stunk. He wasn't aroused. Ramona would recognize that - she'd lost the morning race to the shower enough times since she'd presented - and the air was currently rancid. Her throat felt raw as bile rose up from her stomach.

"Jackson..." Ramona knelt beside him, her voice low. His back arched, a mewling sound escaped his throat. She moved closer. Jackson's head turned to face her.

She reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was ice cold as her palm pressed against his neck. Jackson curled around her then. His head buried against her collarbone. Ramona racked her fingers through his hair - the short, brown locks were damp.

Jackson's hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in. His breath puffed against the skin of her throat in short, ragged intervals. He was still trembling as Ramona began to rub his back with her other hand.

They stayed like that a while. Jackson curled around her, her arms wrapped around him. It was the oppositve of every alpha-omega interection she'd seen on television. But her stomach settled when she held him.

Ramona knew the second whatever was happening was over - Jackson whimpered and his grip tightened. She felt him press his head against her chest, hard, for a bried moment before Jackson scooted away swiftly. He didn't look at her or it as he zipped and buttoned his jeans.

"Sorry," Jackson cleared his throat, a whispy voice as he stared at his wall. Ramona looked him over: he wasn't shaking. More importantly the room didn't smell like some horrendously strong house-cleaner.

"What -"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's nice," Ramano grinned as she stood up, moved to stand in front of him, "But irrelevant."

Jackson's face was red - just finished her Abuela's tamales red. Well, he wasn't cold anymore.

"Speak, Jackson," Ramona took a step closer, towering over him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, "I know you went to see the doctor today."

His eyes flashed. Ramona's stomach did yet another turn - knotting itself well. She ignored it by kicking his foot.

"Don't laugh." Jackson blew out a breath and ruffled the top of his hair. Ramona stood straighter, crossed her arms, waited.

"Well?" Ramona raised an eyebrow when he didn't start talking.

"I can knot."

Ramona blinked. Her arms dropped to her side. Knotting had been on one of the lists. It was a rare ailment - nonexistant in recessive alphas.

"But you're not from an alpha line?" Ramona puckered her lips. Jackson raised his eyebrow at her. "What? You think only you can google?"

"Ngo said its the Katsopolis line," Jackson drew one of his knees to his chest. He kept looking at the floor, "Thinks the combo of the female alpha line and my dad's recessive genes might be messing with my body chemistry."

This had not been in the state approved health class they'd taken. Knotting had appeared zero times in the textbook. She'd only heard of it, pre-wiki search, in fanfiction. Teen Wolf fanfics mostly.

"What exactly does the…the knot…do?" Ramona stumbled over her words as her feet flexed and stretched beneath her. Jackson watched the fidgeting with a furrow brow.

"You mean besides stretch the base of my dick? Painfully and slowly? In increasing intervals?"

Ramona blushed. She mindlessly started to flit from foot to foot, "I..I don't really know…anything about it."

"I didn't either," Jackson grumbled, face twisting, "I figured it was just some weird side effect from the rut or the scent marking or…some weird alpha thing Joey forgot to mention!"

Jackson was standing then. Ramona stepped out of his way as he began to pace the room. Hands flying out expressively as he talked.

"But then it started happening all the time! And jacking off does nothing, absolutely useless! In what world does masturbation not fix all dick-related issues?

"Mine apparently! And when I finally get a chance to ask Ngo about it without my mom listening in, he hands me a pamphlet and asks to do a DNA history test or whatever because aparently this is 'Interesting!'

"Interesting! Trying fucking annoying!

Ramona watched his face wrinkle into a scowl. When he paused she stepped into his space. Jackson froze.

"Why did I help?" Ramona put her hands on her hips and watched Jackson sputter. His mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed.

He reached around her to rifle through his back pack. A red pamphlet, creased and wrinkled, was shoved into her hand.

Jackson sat on the edge of his desk, crossing and uncrossing his legs, while she read the short informational blurbs.

In bullet points at the bottom of one of the trifold pages was a list of know 'Assistive Aids.' Sandwhiched between types of sex toys and some essential oil recommendations was 'the presence and scent of an omega bonded to you.'

"Oh," Ramona looked up at him. Jackson was staring at his wall again. "We should work out a system for when you need me then." Jackson's head whipped around and his eyes were wide. She started laughing.

The concept of knotting as a purely sexual thing seemed odd to me, and it always seemed like something that would make puberty very awkward. So. Hope you enjoyed my take on the trope!

Reviews Always Appreciated!