Hello everyone! It's been a year since I started this story and I decided that I'm ready to share it with you. It's another Omegaverse, modern seting this time where Alexander is a single omega mother struggling to rase his teen alpha son, Philip, by himself. Turns out harder than it sounds.
The bell from the phone in the nightstand ran lightly, like the sound was unnecessary as the figure of its light sleeper owner slowly rised among the mess of covers, used clothes and different devices usb cables that was supposed to be his bed, his headphones long forgotten somewhere under the pillow. Just like a regular teenager's room would be. Oddly enough, the sight of his desk and shelve looked tidy as all his papers and notebooks were in their respective places aside his laptop and all the books seemed carefully organized by topic, and then, alphabetically. The path to the bathroom was in the middle of them, clear enough to walk lazily without worrying any threats for his bare feet before he would be fully awake with a quick shower and just picking out more clothes from the wardrobe, that would probably just end like the ones in the corner of his bed, until either he was scolded or just not longer fit in within his own mess anymore. That's when the full length mirror in the corner of the room catch his eyes, making a parade just to make sure his outfit was good enough, which it was, thank you very much. Yet he stared at the image in front of him for a while, inspecting no longer his clothes but more to himself.
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Philip Hamilton, at his 17 years of his life, considered himself a young proud Alpha. Intelligent, athletic and sure enough, good looking to survive his high school years without many worries. Probably he shouldn't brag about it but the way everybody praised "how he amazes and astonishes" had made far worse to his inherited ego than one would think of a guy yet so gentle and sensible around others. Because, yes, he was not that kind of an asshole Alpha: he was caring and fully self-conscious about his overprotective manners with Omegas, unlike most Alphas of his age. Not like he could help it due to the way he had been raised up by his Omega mother, nor would he have liked it to be any different.
The world where he lived, despite the advantages of the present, where Omegas weren't sold as mere furniture or slaves to please their Alphas anymore, and where they were even taken care of and protected in many laws, was yet unfair as they still were seemed as "the weak" and allowed too little without an Alpha to sign their consent to his or her Omega's wishes outside of the basics as studying self-complacent "Omega accurate" careers and performing easy jobs to live until they found a proper mate to marry and rely on for the rest of their life. What's more, unmated Omegas were given little chances to do pretty much anything.
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But not his mother.
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His mother had sparked his burning desire to grow up as fast as he could, get a scholarship and make his way straight to Princeton's Laws College for the Political Sciences degree his mother couldn't get for himself because of him.
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Well... actually because of Him.
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Philip loved his mother more than anything in his life and he knew as a matter of fact that- as much as it broke and melted his heart to the core- his mother would never regret giving up his dreams of pursuing a political stand for his fellow Omegas, to bear him, his child. Working really hard day and night to rise him to "blow them all away". Still, that didn't mean there was no one to blame about the pregnancy that destroyed everything for him.
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But He was a topic Philip really didn't like to talk about.
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Even if he knew little about the unnamed Alpha, there was no way he would forgive Him for the tears he had seen his mother shed in secret through the years. The man was repugnant to him. Way too early for his caregiver's liking, the young Alpha had learnt to recognize the scent of distress and bitter sadness coming from the Omega every time the "Father" subject was on the line. Philip saw through his lies every time, but his mother's unwavering silence was a completely different matter.
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Nobody really knew the whole story, and his mother's lips were still sealed.
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So far, he knew from his "family" stories that somehow his mother had managed to move to the States from Navis when he was around his own age; masked himself as a spitfire and talented Beta named Alexander Hamilton, writing his way to a generous scholarship right into an Alpha infested college just for the sake of its prestige; and that still hadn't stopped him from ridiculing numerous Alpha jackasses with his perfect grades and breathtaking arguments. Through all this he was mostly alone, since all of his friends and accomplices – his Schuyler Aunties and Uncle Lafayette – hadn't been able to accompany him in such an exclusive and elitist place. Then, in the middle of his career, he met Him, The Alpha, and everything after that went like a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and bigger, right down until all the Omega knew was that his heart no longer belonged to him, and as his aunt Eliza said, he couldn't have been more helpless. The next time they saw him, he had been kicked out of campus and never mentioned Him again.
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At least, not until they knew he was expecting.
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But he was clever enough to make out the other clues on his own. Just like how much– damn it, he knew – he looked like Him, since there was so little from aside their mind's brilliance, pride and olive eyes he shared with his mother. Not raven silky straight hair; not exotic Caribbean features with a natural smooth tan; or the slightest accent making his way through his words by mere coexistence with his mother. No. He was quite an opposite sight. He had light brown hair, in the way of messy and puffy curls; Caucasian face despite his efforts to get a little more color for himself; and carefully taught in perfect English and French -but little comprehension of Spanish. Everything. Was. HIS. Even the melancholic way the Omega used to count every little mark in the starry sky of freckles in his face, His freckles.
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"Stupid freckles." He frowned at his reflection, then sighed in defeat as he moved away. He had to get ready for school.
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Philip grabbed his books, combed his wild curls, and headed to the kitchen where the first thing he did was turning on the coffee machine to prepare some breakfast for the two of them. After that, he didn't need to look around too much in their small but cozy apartment to find the Omega cuddling on the sofa with his laptop next to him. He had most likely spent the entire night working on his economic politics article about how more working Omegas could benefit the nation by giving more equal and lower taxes for everyone, as he had been doing for three days in a row since Senator Jefferson's last speech.
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His mother Alexander- as much as Philip knew this bothered him- was one of the cutest Omegas he had ever seen. With his rather small size – Philip had been taller than him since his sophomore year – he could pass for a single Omega in the middle of his late 20's rather than his current 36 years old. Even if he usually didn't care that much about his looks, his long hair that reached just past his shoulders shined smoothly, and it would have always made its way into his face if not for his – also cute - round vintage glasses, which surrounded his beautiful but mischievous wide green eyes. His skin had also conserved its smoothness, and gained in paleness, as he worked - or better, overworked- from their home, at this point in their lives just getting out as little as possible, only for family matters or shopping errands for the both of them. He also refused to be called "Mother" as he had raised Philip as both his mother AND father, and so he stubbornly kept a bread that did little to man him up against his delicate looks.
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"Pops… pss.. Pops, wake up…" he called gently while moving him just a little, not really wanting to disturb his mother if he really was exhausted. "C'mon Pops, Jesus… Do I have to carry you to bed again?" he groaned. The older he got the more he hated the way his mother overworked non-stop.
"Itsss fiinee…" The older Omega in his arms grumped still more asleep than awake. "Just taking a little nap before sending this to Washington." He said trying to reach his computer, but the young Alpha carried him away before he could.
"Oh really? Are you ready to submit? You're sure? Like when you said so last night?" the teenager retorted sarcastically- not that his mother could blame him since he learned from him. "Or more like you are going to re-read it and spend even more hours looking for mistakes you'll never find `cuz it's the third time you've rewritten it?!". The Omega went silent at that, trying to ignore the smell of his guilt.
"Mom…" Philip said in a warning tone.
"Don't call me "Mom"…" Was his quick evasive answer.
"How many times did you rewrite it, Mom?"
"Don't call me "Mom"!"
"MOM!"
"Ok, OK! It's the fifth time!"
"The FIFTH time?! MOM!" Philip snapped.
"CALL ME "MOM" ONE MORE TIME!" So did Alexander.
"You know what? THAT'S IT." He said, leaving the Omega on his bed before going back to the living room, picking up the computer and shoving it in his backpack along with his books.
"Philip, what are you doing with my laptop?" His mother was right behind him, not minding the soreness and tiredness of his body. But his son ignored him.
"There is coffee and breakfast at the kitchen. Catch your sleep and then eat! After that, you can do whatever you want."
"Philip, where are you taking my laptop?!" Alexander tried to sound bold and serious but in the end it was more like a plea against such clear Alpha command, fearing his son's train of thoughts.
Philip gulped with guilt, but he had already made up his mind.
"I am taking it to Mr. Washington before school, so you can take a freaking break!" The young Alpha stated with resolution.
"Philip, I'm not done!" Alexander tried to protest, but there was not avail.
"Yes you are! You wrote it FIVE times!"
"Philip James Hamilton… if you take just one step out that door with my laptop..!" his mother warned as the young male made his way to the front door.
"Just watch me!" He shouted as he slammed the door right behind him. Not like that alone would have stopped him from hearing his mother screaming behind the door.
"PHILIP JAMES HAMILTON YOU ARE GROUNDED!"
And so, he left. Feeling bad at the smell of his mother's distress but without regrets. Sooner than later he knew his mother would understand he meant only good for him. They just loved each other too much to stay mad at each other for even just one day, anyway.