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

Pack Man

An Upside had finally been found!

Three miles he'd been carrying Tommy, and Max's many purchases from Preppies R Us, and Jackson was not even the slightest bit winded.

Being an alpha Had to have some perks, apparently.

"So, we're agreed?" Max was looking at him over his half-eaten ice cream cone. His eyes were shrewd - narrow little slits of suspicion that were honestly kind of adorable.

Not that he'd admit that. Ever. In this or the next life.

"I swear," Jackson nodded his head and suppressed an eye roll, "My alpha dramatics will never again come between our brotherly bond."

Those words had just come out of his mouth. He would never be cool again.

"Do you forgive me for being extra jerk-like now?" Jackson asked, not at all tired or annoyed. No-ooo. It wasn't like he'd taken Max shopping at his favorite store. For two hours. And bought him ice cream. Before and after.

Oh wait. He had.

Tommy had been much easier - he'd been perfectly happy to forgive Jackson any and all transgressions after the trip to McDonalds.

The ice cream Had solidified his return to Epic Older Brother Status. So Max's emotional manipulation was good for something.

"Hmmm." Max side-eyed him as they turned up the hill onto their street.

Jackson narrowed his eyes on him, "Max…" There was a line. Jackson wasn't aware it was there this morning, but they were certainly stepping on it now.

Max's face split into a large toothy grin. "You're forgiven!" He chirped. Then he started laughing, "I'm kind of surprised you went for the second ice cream honestly." Max licked around the edge of his double chocolate, "You must feel really bad."

"Eh." Jackson didn't shrug - Tommy was sound asleep on his shoulder - but he did bob his head to the side. "It's been a rough couple of months for me and I was definitely a sucky older brother for most of it. Figure I should make it up to you, now things are starting to level out."

"Is being an alpha really that bad?" Max raised an eyebrow at him, one eye wider than the other, "I mean, alphas are usually pretty awesome on television."

Television sit-coms were the bane of Jackson's existence.

Not internet level. But. Close.

"It's fucking weird," Jackson said, ignoring Max's gasp. "I barely have time to figure one thing out before my body flips another switch."

Max launched into a lecture on language - because he was Max. Jackson ignored him - because he was Not Max. And Tommy stretched in his sleep, yawned, and then face planted onto Jackson's shoulder blade.

Really. It was so obvious what was coming.

The switch. He'd literally just mentioned it. And still. When the cherry scent hit his nose before they got to the front door, Jackson froze.

Usually when he smelled cherries in his mother's scent she was annoyed or angry, but then it was acidic. Now, it was almost tart - like it had mixed with a Smartie to make a new candy.

A gummy candy, cause it smelled kinda gross and rubbery too. Alpha senses had really ruined Red Vines…

"Why did you stop?" Max was looking down at him from the top step. Jackson quickly climbed the stairs and pushed his brother behind him.

The new scent had Jackson on edge. More so because he couldn't identify the emotional shift the scent represented either.

There was a nagging bell in the back of his head that reminded him of The Incident. In a bad way. It had been the stupid feeling that had pushed him into Ramona's room.

"Stay behind me," Jackson's voice was gruffer than he meant it to be when he spoke. There were two other scents on the other side of the door.

Betas.

Their scents had hidden beneath his mother's. And there were so many betas scents around he couldn't distinguish them. But they were new. Different.

Max remained, shockingly, silent as Jackson contemplated picking his other brother up and leaving. He'd protest then, of course.

Plus, the cherry scent was definitely strengthening.

Jackson opened the door and took two steps into the living room. Max, being Max, didn't listen and came up right beside him. He, however, did not recognize the two people sitting on the couch.

"Boys!" DJ hopped up from the armchair by the fireplace. She was wringing her hands. The smile was too wide.

Jackson glared at the Fullers, who slowly rose up from the couch. They were older than they'd been at the funeral - definitely grayer and wrinklier.

"What are they doing here?"

DJ visibly started at his voice. It had sounded odd to Jackson too - flatter. Even Max had paused in his step down from the doorway.

"Your grandparents were in the area," DJ's laugh was practically hysterical to his ear, "They stopped in to say hello."

Jackson's gaze swept to them and he very much enjoyed the half step back they both took. He wasn't 12 anymore. And maybe he hated lots of aspects of being an alpha, but the intimidation factor was not one of them.

DJ cleared her throat, "Jackson-"

"Did they apologize?" He looked back at his mom. She ducked her head, smile tight. That was a no.

The cherry scent was ebbing away. The familiar palmy sweat was taking hold. Worry. Much better than whatever that ick had been.

"Then I don't want them here." Jackson took the two small steps down from the door and then tugged Max after him as he walked into the kitchen.

Max made a stilted attempt to argue, but they were already at the table by the time he actually spoke.

"Why are you being so weird again?!"

Jackson looked at Max as he set the shopping bags down. He kept Tommy. His hold only a little tighter than before.

"Because they're jerks and I want them to leave."

Max looked back at the kitchen door. Raised whispers could be heard. Jackson, however, could make out the words.

His spine straightened.

"Upstairs," Jackson nodded his head towards the kitchen stairs and Max agreed. He was still sour-faced, but he still had the second ice cream in hand so Jackson refused to feel guilty.

Not that the jangling noise in his head was leaving much room for other thoughts.

Jackson put Tommy on his bed and then gave Max very swift instructions to stay in their room until he got back. Whatever face he was making seemed to convince his very ornery little brother.

Awesome. One task down.

The jangling did not abate.

In the hallway Jackson headed for the main stairs. He gripped the railing tightly as he looked down on the living room. The three adults were arguing.

"You've poisoned them against us!" "How dare you keep our only grandchildren away us!"

The cherry scent was edging under his nostrils and the jangling had gone full on church bell in his head. Their words now mixed with their words from the funeral.

They'd made his mother cry…

"Get out!" Jackson's voice cut through the room. DJ started up at him, shock in her eyes. There were no tears. This time.

His grandparents - well, it wasn't shock on their faces.

Jackson's grip on the rail tightened as he shook his head - there was a pressure building. His ears felt stuffed up all of a sudden.

"Jackson, honey…"

His eyes narrowed on his grandmother. His vision sharpen on their faces. "I said get out!" The rail split in his hand. Wood bit into his skin, the coppery scent of blood wafted upwards.

It was soothing. The pressure seemed to lessen.

Though that might have been more because the Fullers were running out the door. Yeah. That was probably more the reason.

"Jackson." DJ had her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. He shrugged.

The stupid bells had stopped. He shook his hand out to dislodge some of the wood that had embedded itself in his palm. It kinda stung.

"Come down here so I can look at your hand," DJ blew a breath out and went to get the First Aid kit. She spent the next hour digging splinters out of his palm.

Jackson had absolutely no idea why she wasn't yelling at him. The railing was pretty definitely going to need a visit from a carpenter. Possibly replacing.

"So…" Jackson whistled, looking at the railing rather than his hand. Cause blood, ick. "Am I grounded?"

DJ hummed, pulled another splinter out. "I don't think so."

Wait. What?

"You were trying to protect us," DJ shrugged, dabbed at his hand with an alcohol wipe. He winced. "That's probably the one alpha thing I understand."

Protective…alpha…thing.

Jackson groaned, "What thing is this?" She laughed.

His own mother. Wow.

"Thanks," Jackson stuck his bottom lip out in a pout as DJ started to wrap his hand. A metric ton of gauze appeared to be stuck between his palm and the bandage.

"It's an instinct," DJ placed a hand on his shoulder and suddenly they were looking eye to eye. And she was smiling. "Your dad use to say it felt like his head might actually explode from the pressure if he didn't do something to help."

Oh. The bells.

DJ ruffled his hair, "Though, I don't think most alphas have as broad a definition for pack as he did."

"Pack?" Jackson scrunched up his face, "Are we in Teen Wolf now? I thought I walked into the Fuller house, not the Hale's?"

And now his mother was rolling her eyes at him. Was nothing sacred?

"I don't know what the technical term would be," DJ ruffled his hair as she stood up, "But I think pack is an apt description." She winked. "How else do you explain Max staying upstairs this whole time?"

Jackson snapped up, "Shit."

"Language!" DJ called after him as Jackson rushed up the stairs to let a now-fuming Max out of his room. "And you're working off the cost for the railing!"

She huffed, turning to look at her bloodied medical supplies scattered over her previously clean floor.

"Just when I thought I might never have to put up with alpha commands ever again…" DJ muttered to herself as she started to clean up.

Jackson paused, door knob in hand, as her words penetrated his brain. Commands?

He opened the door and was immediately barraged by a trademark Max Fuller rant. Tommy was watching from his bed, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, grinning.

Commands would be pretty useful actually.

"And then you just left us in here for over an hour! And hour, Jackson! No food, no water, no explanation."

WikiHow had to have a tutorial.

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