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

Lola's throwing another party and this time Jackson is invited for...reasons. It does not end as Ramona expected it to.

Pheromone Party

Jackson stared at the message on his phone, frozen in the hallway. Tommy knocked him as the kindergartner rushed towards the kitchen stairs.

"What're you looking at?" Max peaked around Jackson's arm and then immediately wrinkled his nose at the screen, "Who'd invite *you* to a party?!"

"Lola apparently?" Jackson's forehead wrinkled, "Which, I actually agree with you here, is very odd."

Odd. Crazy. Both words worked. Either way, Jackson was suspicious.

Lola hadn't invited him to a party since middle school when they dated for like, half a second. He texted Popko in case he'd accidentally landed in a parallel universe in which Lola had revoked her no-exes rule.

Popko: Dude! You have to go! Lola's parties are epic!

Okay. Parallel universe debunked.

"Hey, do you know why Lola would invite me to one of her parties?" Jackson asked Ramona as he and Max finally followed their brother to the kitchen.

Jackson pretended that the dozen or so adults in the kitchen weren't watching the five second interaction with laser focus.

"She invited all the non-jerk alphas," Ramona shrugged, took a sip of her juice, "I wouldn't expect a regular invitation if I were you."

"Cool." Jackson moved to sit at the counter, away from Ramona, and text Popko. He'd found about... oh, a *thousand* references to alpha rage online. He needed Popko's guidance.

Seriously. Why didn't they teach Googling in school? It'd be way more helpful than history!

Popko: It's a misnomer. It's not necessarily a 'rage.'

Jackson rolled his eyes. "That's so dumb…" Jackson muttered to himself as he texted back.

"What's dumb?" Stephanie asked from the other side of the counter. She was standing in front of the stove, warming up formula, bouncing slightly to keep Danni asleep in her arms.

It almost passed as nonchalant, but her eyes were a little too wide and her brows a little too high. Jackson checked, his mom and grandfather were both eavesdropping from the laundry nook.

Subtle. Very subtle.

"Something having a name that doesn't accurately describe what it is," Jackson could do subtle too. He'd grown up during the peak of vague posting after all.

Stephanie squinted at him, but Jackson's phone vibrated and he returned to Popko. And actively ignoring every nosy adult in the room.

That just happened to include every adult in the room. Not his problem.

Popko: Basically, it's just another alpha impulse that can be triggered by adrenaline and stress.

Jackson scowled at his phone as he checked out a few of the links Popko sent him. He was really started to wonder how his best friend had these at the ready so often…

Rage was apparently not totally inaccurate. Phrases like 'increased agitation' and 'territorial aggression' came up a few times. And it all came back to the same thing as the fever did - ignoring stress, suppressing impulses.

Jackson: So…when I'm upset, I either get a fever that can kill me…or I fly into a rage? …Is that offer to switch designations still on the table?

Popko: lol. Hell no.
Popko: Think of it this way, you have something in common with the hulk.

That…was actually a fun thought.

Popko: So, are you gonna go to Lola's party?

Jackson rolled his eyes. He typed quickly, shaking his head at his screen.

Jackson: No. Why would I do that?

Popko's response was swift.

Popko: So I can live vicariously, duh.

"So…" Jackson looked up at his mother, lips pursed slightly, "What are the chances of you letting me *go* to Lola's party?"

DJ snorted and opened the fridge for the juice, "Do I actually need to answer that?" She set the pitcher on the counter with an amused laugh.

"You're ruining Popko's chance to live vicariously here, I can't be held responsible for what your decision may do to his fragile psychological state."

His mother did not look at all impressed by his very reasonable argument. Jackson typed out the negative response to Popko.

"Weren't you all just going on about Jackson needing to relax?" Michelle's voice was half muffled by the food in her mouth. "There was even a bit about socializing with other alphas, I definitely remember that."

DJ glared across the kitchen at Michelle, who continued eating at the table with a shrug. Stephanie was hiding her laughter in Danni's shoulder.

"He's still grounded." DJ moved her hands to her hips.

Michelle shrugged, "Socialization is important for young alphas."

Jackson did not know who or what she was quoting, but his mother's face went stormy and Stephanie couldn't suppress her giggles this time.

Even Grandpa Danny snorted!

"Fine." DJ threw her hands in the air and Jackson texted Popko.

Jackson: Your vicarious experience has been parentally approved, congratulations!

Jackson grinned when Popko responded.

Popko: Sweet! Now go re-download snapchat!

-.-.-

"The point of parties is to socialize."

Jackson looked up from his spot in a corner of Lola's living room to Rocki. He did not move his legs from their spot hung over the side of an armchair.

He hadn't smelt her coming. There was some sort of haze in the air that made it difficult for him to pinpoint scents as they moved around the room.

"Seriously," Rocki raised a brow, scoffed, and then shoved his legs away to sit on the armrest. "This is why all your friends are betas and omegas."

"I'm fine with that." Jackson frowned.

This party was not at all what Jackson was expecting when he'd driven him and Ramona to Lola's house. For one, there was no illicit alcohol.

Not that he'd drink it, of course. But it was generally a staple of high school parties and he was kind of disappointed at the lack of drunken antics.

For two…well, there was no need for drunken antics because the entire party was alphas and omegas. Throw a bunch of them together and the hijinks are just as amusing.

"You smell more like yourself at least," Rocki said as she leaned back against the wall.

Jackson arched an eyebrow and looked away from the alpha attempting to flirt with Gene a few feet away.

Rocki rolled her eyes again, "Alphas' scents change with emotional shifts, just like everyone else Jackson. It doesn't take a decent nose to know you've been spiraling down an emotional vortex the last few months."

"I think vortex is overstating."

The look Rocki pinned on him silenced Jackson. He went back to watching the mingling and attempted flirting of his peers.

A pepper-scent cut through the haze around his head and drifted into Jackson's focus. His attention zeroed in on Ramona as she walked into the room with Lola.

"Can I ask…" Jackson cut himself off before he finished. He bit his bottom lip. Rocki knocked his leg with her foot. He took a breath, "What does Ramona smell like to you?"

"Oven-roasted peppers, a hint of cinnamon, very odd combo."

Jackson blinked. That was quick…and, essentially, what she smelled like to him as well. He looked up at Rocki, head tilted back and words half-formed in his mouth.

"Wow." Rocki glanced at him, shook her head, "You don't even know the scent structure, do you?"

Given he'd never heard that term before in his life… Jackson had to go with no, no he did not know the scent structure. Assuming it wasn't another misnomer, he could probably take a guess though.

"Why don't we just assume I know nothing?" Jackson offered with a sarcastic smile.

"Business as usual, got it," Rocki nodded and then pointed towards Ramona, "She, like every omega on the planet, smells vaguely like a specific food. At least to alphas. Supposedly omegas smell vaguely acidic or rotten to other omegas."

Jackson hummed, "So, like they smell on their suppressants?"

Rocki turned slowly to look at Jackson, eyes narrowed, "You can smell an omega's suppressant?"

"Ye-es..." Jackson said slowly, leaning away from Rocki slightly as she glared at him, "You can't?"

"No." Rocki huffed, "My mother can, but I didn't inherit the superior sense of smell."

Jackson chuckled nervously, "At least you can't smell the school bathrooms as well as I can, right?"

Rocki nodded sharply, "Anyway." Her lips were still twisted into a snarl, "The scent structure explains the flip from alpha to omega noses. What smells good to an alpha will smell bad to an omega."

"Gotcha." Jackson clicked his teeth, "So what do alphas smell like to omegas than? Whats the opposite of burnt and bitter?"

"Warm and toasty?" Rocki guessed with a smirk. "Alpha scents are more variable apparently. My mom says it depends on your lineage, what sort of alpha line you come from or something."

Jackson snorted. Great. Yet another think that made him a weird alpha.

"Wait…" Jackson narrowed his eyes on Rocki. He sniffed the air. Burnt marshmallows. "You don't smell like your mom?"

Rocki hit his arm, "I have two alpha parents, idiot." She huffed again, "My dad smells like burning chocolate."

Jackson didn't have to ask how a female alpha came from a male alpha line. He had paid *some* attention to Dr. Ngo's ramblings. Double alpha pairing could cause a gender divergence.

Did that make Rocki almost as abnormal as him?

He decided against asking. However…

"Does that mean you smell like a s'mores to omegas?"

Rocki hit him again. "I hate you," she grumbled once she was once more comfortably perched on the arm rest.

"No you don't," Jackson teased. He did keep his head on the other armrest though. Just in case. Across the room Ramona giggling at something one of the other alphas on the football team said.

Jackson wrinkled his nose.

"You smell like burnt pie," Rocki cut in, looking between Jackson and the other alpha with a raised brow, "Just for the record."

"What kind of pie?" Jackson tried to latch on to the distraction and push Ramona from his mind. "Cherry?"

Rocki's gaze snapped to him, "How'd you know that?"

"My mom and her sisters all smell like cherries, especially if they're feeling any sort of strong emotion." Jackson shrugged, and turned so his back now rested against the armrest. He was facing Rocki now, even as his attention was pulled across the room. "And you said scents were lineage-based right?"

Rocki looked impressed for all of five seconds before she shoved his head, "Dude, your scent is literally becoming more disgusting by the second, stop it."

Jesse and Joey's description of his scent popped into his head again then. Burnt peppers was not at all related to burnt pie.

"What'd you mean earlier when you said I smelled more like myself?" Jackson leaned forward, arms on his knees. "How drastically is my scent changing?"

Rocki shifted, almost a fidget even! Jackson stared at her face until she cringed, "Alright!"

Jackson grinned. Success!

"You start smelling like peppers when you're freaking about Ramona," Rocki admitted with an eye roll. "It's literally the grossest combo I can think of."

Jackson huffed and fell back against the armrest. It groaned in protest.

"It isn't just you," Rocki offered with a half-hearted hand gesture in the omega's direction, "The cinnamon in Ramona's scent gets stronger when she's stressing about you too."

Wait.

What?

Popko's synopsis of scent marking floated through his mind. Omega scents took on part of their alpha's smell.

The cinnamon was his scent. In Ramona's scent.

For literally everyone to smell.

"And there's the pepper!" Rocki's feet dropped to the floor. She patted Jackson on the shoulder, "Sorry. Can't take it." She walked away before Jackson could even work himself into a proper panic.

The haziness blocking scents circled his head. Any panic ebbed away all on its own as he sunk deeper into the chair. His legs slipped over the spot Rocki had vacated.

Lavender. That was the scent hovering in the air, coating every other smell. It was thick, but a little off too.

Jackson's eyes flicked to the diffusers around the room. Smart. If his scent was hazy, so was everyone else's. Probablg prevented fights or something.

Not that Jackson wanted to fight anyone.

Certainly not the alpha chatting up Ramona across the room.

While she smelled of his scent.

Nope. He was fine.

He angled his head a bit so his face was directly in a diffuser's path.

A little caution never hurt anybody.

-.-.-

"And then I tackled the dude!"

Ramona did not know American football. She knew Jackson played, and had supposedly introduced her to this guy once when some of the team had come by after practice.

Or so Bryce had told her.

He'd started out a semi-decent conversationalist. His smile was even kinda cute and he had fluffy hair.

Unfortunately, that was the end of his positive traits and Ramona was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"I should really get back to Lola now," Ramona tried a quick smile and a hair flip. It did not help her escape.

The alpha grabbed her wrist, "Hey! My story's not over." He squeezed and Ramona flinched. "Let me finish."

Boy howdy did she not want to let him finish. Ramona yanked on her wrist. His grip didn't budge. She grit her teeth, "Let me go."

Bryce smirked at her, a taunting little smile that she wanted to slap off his face.

So she did. As hard as she could

The slap reverbersted off the walls and brought the attention of the entire room.

"Let. Me. Go." Ramano enunciated each word. His grip tightened and she was unsurprided by the snarl that he aimed at her. There was a bright red hand mark on his face.

Ramona did not cower at the Bryce's anger. Her chin rose in defiance and she yanked again on her wrist. It still didn't budge.

That was the moment Ramona's nose registered Jackson's scent. The diffusers Lola had around the room effectively kept him hidden until Jackson was standing directly behind her.

"Let go, Bryce." A shiver ran down her spine at the chill in Jackson's voice. It was cold, monotonous. Ramona's cheeks warmed at the sound and she took a step backwards so her back was against Jackson's chest.

Bryce was the same size as Jackson, a little wider, a little beefier. And he certainly had a bruising grip.

Ramona flinched again as she tried to pull her wrist away for a third time. Jackson's hand shot out to Bryce's wrist and in a blink she was free.

"What the hell, Fuller?!" Jackson bent the other alpha's wrist back at an angle and Bryce went to his knees. Jackson stood over him, face blank and eyes narrowed to slits.

The entire room was quiet, all eyes on the two alphas.

Jackson blocked her from everyone else's view and Ramona didn't wonder if that was on purpose or not as she rubber at her wrist. A yellow and red bruise crafted a perfect braclet over her wrist bone.

It would be purple in a few hours, tops.

Ramona shifted to Jackson's side. Bryce was clawing at Jackson's hand and snapping curse words, half of them colorful insults Ramona had heard slung at her father growing up.

There was no spark to Jackson's eyes, just a cold and flat determination. Ramona moved closer, running a hand over his arm.

His eyes flickered from Bryce's face to hers.

"I'm fine," Ramona kept eye contact and ignored the sudden stab of pain through her abdominal muscles.

Jackson dropped Bryce's wrist. The other alpha craddled it to his chest and crumpled to the floor. It was already bruised a dark shade of purple.

Lola appeared with a thunderous face so Ramona did the most logical thing she could think of. She dragged Jackson into the empty office off the living room.

In hindsight... that probably hadn't been her brain thinking.

But Jackson's eyes were still focused on her. The pupils were dilating rapidlh and a crisp, almost bread-like scent filled her nostrils. Her chest was pressed up against his arm too.

She had no chance. Really.

"Let me see your wrist," Jackson's voice cracked and his eyes flickered down. The chill was gone from his voice. A slippery warmth replaced it, slipping down her skin like a thick syrup.

Ramona raised her hand and Jackson's fingers slid over her wrist. Feather like touches made pain shoot through the small bones delicately assembled below yellowing skin.

"Fucking asshole," Jackson growled. Ramona gasped and the imaginary syrup coating her body lit up like gasoline meeting a match when Jackson's eyes snapped up to hers.

Jackson's lips were chapped and cracked. The roughness tickled as they moved against hers. Ramona curled her fingers into his hair and pushed Jackson around like a puppet until he backed himself into one of the high backed chairs Lola's father kept in the room.

Everything was warm, too warm. Jackson's hands were like icicles running over her skin. She shivered, writhing against him, provoking loud moans that only served to egg her on.

"Ramona! Stop!"

Lola's voice was like a bucket of ice. Ramona's head ripped away from Jackson's. His eyes fluttered open. They were hazy, unfocused, with pupils dilated to the point that his eyes could probably pass for black in that moment.

"The pheremones in the air, remember?" Lola kept a few feet of distance. A hand underneath her nose. Ramona glanced at her and then back at Jackson. He blinked sluggishly. "Remember, you wanted to help him calm down?"

"Yeah," Ramona let out a breath, her chest heaved. The air around her still felt like fire. "Yeah, I remember."

Lola sighed in relief, "He's really susceptible to your scent right now." Her hands lowered to her sides. "You can't just…" Lola trailed off and then just gestured towards them.

Ramona looked down at their position. She was in his lap. Jackson's head lulled to the side as she rose up on to her knees. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed.

"I need to get him home," Ramona got off of Jackson, breaths still heavy. He groaned again, but otherwise remained still. Ramona shook her head, "This was a really bad idea."

"No shit," Rocki said from the doorway. She was holding one hand up to her nose as well, "You reek right now, Gibbler."

A nagging feeling in the back of her head, and an ache growing in her abdomen, told Ramona that was not a good sign. At all.

"Can you get him to the car?" Ramona looked at Rocki with wide eyes, trembling. She watched Rocki's throat bob once before she nodded.

It was fine. She just had to drive them back. It wasn't far. She could make that.

Jackson protested in mumbled sentences and a particularly low whine, but Rocki manged to shove him into the passenger seat while Ramona splashed as much cold water as she could on to her face.

The heat did not abate.

"You sure you're good to drive?" Lola sniffed the air lightly, brows raised. She glanced at Jackson and the car, "Tight quarters might not go well."

"I'll just roll down the windows?" Ramona smiled nervously and shrugged before ducking into the driver's seat of Jackson's crappy car.

It smelled of him. Heavily.

She glanced at the booster seat in the back and tried to focus on the faint scents of Tommy and Max that lingered.

That got her halfway there. Then she really did have to open the windows. Jackson shivered beside her. He blinked rapidly, eyes never focusing fully.

"What's going on?" Jackson murmured. He shifted forward, head dropping forward. Ramona squeezed the steering wheel as her eyes landed on the scent gland now swollen at the base of his neck.

"Just…" Ramona cleared her throat and pushed her foot down harder on the gas, "…just shut up right now."

Jackson's head fell back against the seat. He nodded, eyes closing slowly, "Okay."

Ramona bit her lip. The metallic taste in her mouth distracted her from the twisting in her abdomen.

When the car screeched to a stop outside the Fuller house, Ramona wasted no time in yelling loudly for help, "Uncle Jimmy!"

The beta appeared, with entourage in tow unfortunately.

"Jackson's gonna need help getting upstairs," Ramona told her uncle as he approached the car.

"Got it," Jimmy pulled the passenger door open and lifted Jackson up bridal style.

In any other situation Ramona would have found the picture of Jackson Fuller being carried up the steps with his arms and legs dangling down like a rag doll absolutely hilarious. Instagram worthy even.

"What happened?!" "Did something happen?"

This situation, unfortunately, included their mothers.

"You took him to a damn pheromone party didn't you?" Michelle's voice cut through the worried clucking of two generations of Tanners. Everyone quieted.

Ramona swallowed and then nodded tightly. Michelle had sounded equal parts amused and pissed, which probably meant she knew exactly what had happened.

"Uncle Jesse," Michelle looked pointedly at the only adult omega in the crowd of worried parental units, "You might want to take Ramona to Fernando's house until he gets back."

Jesse opened her door with a flourish, "You okay kid?" Her grip on the steering wheel was making her knuckles white. He peeled her fingers off it one at a time, "You've got a long night ahead of you."

Yeah. Yup. Very long. She sure as hell hadn't enjoyed her first heat. And this one was early. By a lot.

"It's gonna be worse isn't it?" Ramona's voice croaked as Jesse eased her out of the car. She stumbled and he pulled her up, one arm wrapping around her shoulders.

Jesse patted her arm, and nodded. "Yes."

Great.

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A/N: I continue to hate how I have to format text messages on this website...