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

Jackson's got a hangover, post-heat Ramona has her own recovery to deal with, and denial is everyone's best friend.

Denial and Bad Lying

This was it. This was the suckiest his life had ever been.

"Don't worry, Rocki punched Bryce in the face after that - and Lola sicced the cheerleading squad on him for insinuating she'd let you and Ramona bang in her father's office."

And Popko was enjoying it far too much.

There was a ding that ricocheted all through his skull before Popko started howling with the laughter, "His wrist and his cheek are the same shade of purple. So awesome!"

Jackson groaned and shoved the pillow off his face so he could aim a proper scowl at Popko, "Dude, my head is killing me, at least put your phone on vibrate."

"Dude, it can't be that bad," Popko didn't even look up from his phone as he shrugged, "You've been hung over before."

A poorly aimed pillow hit Popko's hands, knocking the phone to the floor. "Alcohol and pheromones are not the same thing," Jackson grumbled before plopping his face directly into his mattress.

Alcohol had just given him a massive headache. Sure, sounds had seemed louder, but this? This was not louder sounds, this was…

Hell. Yes, that worked.

The sounds were longer, pulling across his brain like a boat propeller through water.

And the smells! Being drunk had done nothing to his nose - although, technically, he'd never been drunk as an alpha, but it sure as hell wasn't going on his bucket list!

"We should document this, ya know," Popko gestured with his phone, tapping Jackson's foot with the device as he stood up. "You're a new alpha line right? So, like, this could be useful information for your descendants."

A snort from the doorway signaled the arrival of Michelle. The door was wide open and Jackson really wanted to know how she'd done that so quietly.

"My mom's whole line left oodles of records, dude. Wasn't helpful." Michelle strolled into the room and plopped into Popko's recently vacated seat. "I did just write down all of the alpha traits I remember your dad having for DJ though…so, hey, maybe your doc will be better than mine."

Popko was staring, mouth open, at Michelle.

Jackson smacked his leg, "Dude. She's my aunt."

His super cool alpha aunt who wore torn black jeans with flannel apparently, but it was still creepy for someone to be ogling her right in front of him.

"You're family's got *very* good genes," Popko shook his head, smile faintly wistful. Jackson smashed his last remaining pillow into Popko's face and then dragged him on to the bed.

It was a short wrestling match before Popko was whining, his back now acting as Jackson's pillow support. He was reaching for his hat until Michelle picked it up with her foot.

"So you'd be Jackson's Kimmy then?" Michelle pointed at Popko as she placed the hat on her head. The gothy hipster vibe was complete. Her nose wrinkled, "Popcorn?"

"Popko." Jackson corrected her as Popko attempted to sputter out some sort of offended comment from beneath his head.

Michelle shrugged, "Whatever." She kicked her feet up onto his bed. "I've been assigned alpha watch, so entertain me," Michelle gestured with her hand, fingers wiggling emphatically.

Jacksom blinked as her words - kindly spoken in a soft voice that did not ricochet through his head quite as violent as everything else - slowly filtered through his brain to process.

"Alpha watch?" Jackson's forehead creased. It was like the cogs in his head had been kickstarted - the dust, grim, and cobwebs left behind by the pheromones vaporized by the phrase.

He didn't need much context to figure out that Michelle was officially babysitting him. And if his mom thought he needed babysitting…

"What *exactly* did I do last night?" Jackson gulped as he tried to recall what happened. The memories were not coming up in a clear or timely fashion.

"You mean besides telling your mom that Ramona was essentially cuddling you through your knots?" Michelle drawled, eyes lidded as she shook her head at him.

Popko's entire head popped up and his voice was a near screech beside Jackson's ear, "Your what?!" Jackson groaned as Popko shoved Jackson up and away to sit up beside him. "Dude! You never told *me* that?!"

"I mean, does any alpha actually admit to having knots outside a pheromone high?" Michelle's arms moved outward in an exaggerated shrug as she practically cackled.

Jackson reached for a pillow to smother himself.

"Still!" Popko grabbed the pillow before Jackson could even get it over his face. Instead, he got Popko's face - nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed - at far too close a distance.

"Dude, how much body spray are you wearing?!" Jackson shoved at Popko's head as he started to gag. Proximity plus hangover meant Jackson reached for his trash can very quickly.

Never had he been so thankful for an empty stomach.

Popko grumbled behind him as Jackson dry heaved. Mostly a bunch of nonsense about bro code and the authenticity of his pro-con list.

Jackson tuned it out.

"I knew you had a thing for Ramona!"

And he tuned right back in, eyes wide and jaw dropped, "What?!"

Screeches did not phase Popko, who was nodding vigorously to himself. "Ever since she blew out the candles at your sixth birthday party -"

"Wow, she really is a Gibbler huh?" Michelle chuckled to herself.

"- you've been total heart eyes for her." Popko was grinning now, completely ignoring the fact that all of the blood in Jackson's face had drained away. "I mean, you've always had a thing for bossy women - Lola, Rocki - Ramona's like, the OG boss in your life."

Michelle continued to comment, "Are these girls actually bossy or are they just, like, confident and unwilling to put up with your shitty attitudes?"

"Both," Popko turned to Michelle with finger guns at the ready, "Jackson's pretty pathetically servile though, so it's hard to tell."

"I am not servile!" Jackson huffed and scrunched his forehead together.

Popko snorted and leveled his eyes on Jackson, "Dude, you in a relationship is the most annoying thing. You spend every second trying to make sure they're happy."

"Well, yeah, but…" Jackson pursed his lips.

He had no rebuttal. But, hey, at least the nausea was gone.

"Oh, wow," Michelle was full-on Cheshire cat grinning now. Popko took a step away from her, eyebrows raised. She looked at Jackson, "You're literally just your dad with better hair aren't you?"

Jackson didn't know how to respond to that. Or to Michelle's now maniacal laughter. She was folded over herself, blond hair cascading down her legs as her back shook.

"Is anyone in your family normal?" Popko stared at Michelle with one eyebrow raised. Jackson looked at her, looked at Popko, and shrugged.

"Probably not," Jackson pursed his lips, "But it's not like you can talk, dude, you choose to hang out here."

Popko shook his head and gripped his hair, "Rocki's right. This is a cult."

That only served to make Michelle start laughing harder.

Jackson was kind of impressed with her lung capacity really.

-.-.-

"Alright, almost there!" Jimmy's smile didn't falter for a single second as he carried Ramona up the kitchen stairs. "How ya doin'?"

Ramona groaned against his shoulder, head still lulling to the side, "So tired."

"You'll be in your own bed before ya know it!" Jimmy said as he stepped into the second floor hallway.

Laughter was ringing from Jackson's room. A shrill feminine laughter. Ramona's stomach dropped.

"Is it just me, or is Michelle the scariest Tanner sister?" Jimmy whispered, brows furrowing as he paused outside Ramona's room.

The laughter died down for a moment before rising suddenly again, this time deeper and harsher. Ramona hooked her chin on her uncle's shoulder as she attempted to listen to it.

Everything smelled off now, a little rougher, sharper maybe?

"She cornered me in the kitchen earlier," Jimmy continued to ramble as he knelt to lay Ramona on her bed. She made some attempts to help, but every muscle in her body was still screaming sore. "Apparently if I break Stephanie's heart, she'll have me gutted. Which, like, fair, but…but terrifying."

Jimmy nodded to himself, eyes narrowed and focused on a spot at the foot of Ramona's bed. Ramona smiled, she patted his arm, "Don't worry Uncle Jimmy, Stephanie will protect you."

"Thank goodness for that!" Jimmy's face split into a grin again, he chuckled, "I don't think I'd be a particular tasty fillet."

Ramona sunk into her mattress as Jimmy left the room. The Tanner house was overrun with scents - cherries from the Tanners, a bitter orange from the various Gladstones, and the oddly comforting smell of hairspray that clung to every Gibbler she'd ever met like feathers to tar.

It was absolutely impossible for her to narrow a smell down to an individual person. Not even Jackson. And before last night, she'd been able to pinpoint Jackson's smell almost effortlessly.

Scent-marker gone. Yay! Ish.

With a groan, Ramona burried her head in pillows.

Feeling unmoored just because she couldn't find Jackson's stupid scent?! Ridiculous. She didn't even like cherry pie!

Well, she didn't *not* like cherry pie. It was more… apathy.

She'd only ever had chocolate pie before really, and once a pumpkin pie when her mother had a pumpkin themed party. Cherry just sounded too sweet, ya know?

Did she need to actually try cherry pie to know if she liked it? Or, well, disliked, obviously.

Ramona's face pinched together as the metaphor spiraled further and further through her head.

"I don't know what you're thinking about, but you definitely look like you have a headache!" Max waltzed into her room with a tray and his chin in the air. "Which means I've come just in the knick of time!"

A flourish from Max presented Ramona with a tall glass of water and two aspirins. He smiled at hers, eyes fluttering dramatically.

"Thank you," Ramona chuckled as she took the meds and the water. Max nodded primly, a smug cheerfulness radiating from his whole body. "Now, what are you up to?"

Max froze, and then he fidgeted, "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," Ramona tilted her head back and dropped the pills down her throat. She sipped her water, eyes focused over the top of the glass on Max.

"Alright!" Max broken before she even set the glass down. "I heard my mom talking about you and Jackson with my aunts - "

"You were eavesdropping, got it."

"I was not eavesdropping!" Max waved his hand in front of his body, eyes narrowed, "I just *happen* to overhear, not my fault they didn't notice me."

Sometimes the family resemblance between Max and Jackson would sneak up and smack her in the face. Sometimes it just stared at her from Max's face as he attempted to make better worded excuses than his brother.

"Anyway," Max raised his chin in the air, "They mentioned some…stuff, and I wanted to check on you." He fidgeted, arms crossed as if that didn't make his concern more obvious.

"I'm…sore?" Ramona shrugged, wincing slightly as her shoulder muscles protested. "You're vaguely aware of what an omega heat is like right?"

Max shuddered, "Enough to know I do *not* want to be an omega." His eyes widened suddenly and his hands started waving again, "Not that there's anything wrong with being an omega!"

"I get it, Max," Ramona chuckled, lips twitching up as Max started stuttered. She raised her glass in a faux salute, "And I appreciate you checking on me."

"Yeah, well, I saw you that one time, when Jackson was in here all night…" Max looked at his shoes and Ramona choked on the water she'd started sipping. "…you didn't look so good then either."

Ramona cleared her throat and set her glass on her bedside table. Her hands shook, "I didn't know you saw me like that."

"Jackson agreed to do my chores if I didn't mention it to anyone," Max shrugged as he grinned smugly, eyebrows dancing slightly, "But you already knew about it, so… contract intact."

One day, Max was going to be an amazing lawyer. Or a tycoon.

"You were really pale then, just like now, and you made this whining noise, like you were in pain or something," Max puckered his lips and scuffed his foot on the floor. His eyebrows lowered into a soft scowl as he looked away from her.

"Well, I was fine then," Ramona lied, plastering a smile on her face, "And I'm fine now too." Max raised a brow at her very obvious lie. "I promise."

Max rolled his eyes, "You're worse than Jackson." He stalked out of the room before Ramona could be properly offended.

That was completely uncalled for! Ramona was a perfectly decent liar. And really, no one was a worse liar than Jackson. No one!

Ramona sunk back into her pillows. Her body throbbed as she stared at her ceiling. The world around her spun on as Ramona listened to the silence of her room.

Muscles in her abdomen constricted and her lower back sent a few sharp twinges up her spine in either retaliation or solidarity. Either way, Ramona bit her lip to stop a yell from escaping.

Twenty minutes later when Kimmy peeked her head inside, Ramona was dead to the world. Passed out from a combination of pain from her heat's aftershocks and the painkillers Kimmy had told Max were aspirin.

They were strong painkillers too. Ramona didn't wake up for six hours. And even then, that was Jackson's fault, not the pills' efficacy.

"Uh, hey…" Jackson stood frozen in her doorway, hand raised to knock on the door that had creaked all the way open when he'd tapped it.

Ramona blinked at him, sitting up. His scent wafted over and the tightness in her muscles relaxed slightly as she breathed in flaky pie crust and cinnamon marinated cherries.

Oh no.

She wasn't on suppressants anymore.

"Hey…" Ramona sputtered out, her lips were tight as she tried to smile. Jackson shifted from foot to foot.

He didn't cross the threshold.

It was an arbitrary boundary, but… Ramona appreciated it. She watched his Adam's apple bob as her own unfiltered scent invaded his nostrils.

"How'r-….what's-…" Ramona sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears. She huffed. Her eyes flickered from Jackson to her bed sheets.

Words were hard. The air was thick with their scents, floating around and mixing together as if there was nothing wrong with that. As if cinnamon and cayenne have any business occupying the same space.

"Well, you smell horrible now." Jackson blurted out. A nervous chuckle followed. Ramona raised a brow. Jackson looked at his feet,"Ya know, cause you don't smell like me anymore and I smell awesome, obviously."

Ramona's eyes fluttered as Jackson lifted his head, face pinched as his own words processed through his head.

"Right, sorry, that was lame and this is super awkward." Jackson ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed together into a frown. "I should probably-

"It's fine," Ramona cut him off. Jackson's brows furrowed as his eyes finally rose to meet hers. She cleared her throat, "I mean, you're right - this is awkward."

"I'm…right?" Jackson's mouth twitched upwards, "Okay, maybe I should go get Kimmy cause you're obviously still running a fever."

Ramona laughed, doubling over so her hair fell forward into her face. Jackson's lips parted into a full smile now.

"At least we won't have to worry about the scent marked thing making it awkward between us," Ramona offered with a shrug as she leaned back against her head board.

Jackson's eyebrow rose and he leaned against the door jam. Ramona found her gaze grazing over Jackson's languid figure. She cleared her throat and looked away.

"Yeah..." Jackson snorted. His own eyes moving to the wall above her head, "…because non-marked awkward is so much better!"

The sarcasm was typical, but there was a bite to his voice that had Ramona squeezing her thighs together. She forced a smile, "Things will go back to normal eventually."

Her red cheeks and trembling lips did nothing to persuade Jackson. When his eyes dropped to her face again, she barely registered the dilated pupils before Jackson pushed off from the doorway and fled down the hall.

Ramona really needed to learn how to lie better.

Reviews Always Appreciated!

It'll be a bit before my next update - moving in just a few weeks!