Let's Make a Baby

  Copyright © 2019 J.D. Light

  Edited by Ann Attwood Editing and Proofreading Services

  Let's Make A Baby

  Gates

  Fletcher

  Meet all my books!

  Gates

  I groaned, not at all in the mood to deal with seeing my best friend and roommate while he was surrounded by a group of love-sick idiots competing for his attention. The first half of the day had been shit, and I truly didn't need this ridiculousness flaunted in my face.

  It was the same everywhere we went, and for the most part I was used to it, but on days like this, days when students were ready for Thanksgiving break and pissed that they had to do work––like for some reason they honestly thought that they should not only get the nine days off for break, but they should also get the last three school days off of actual work––and forgetting such niceties as not being little dicks when I sent each and every one of the seriously thirteen kids who'd come to my classroom without their book on a fucking Wednesday back out into the hallway to grab their shit, and told them if they didn't make it back in three minutes, they might as well go straight to the office… and God for-fucking-bid I gave them a damn worksheet to do.

  It was a fucking word search, and it was an easy A, that would bring every single one of their grades up… the ungrateful assholes! And to walk around the corner in the hallway and find this bullshit, when all I wanted was a hug from my friend, was enough to make me envision a bonfire right in the middle of the commons area, and a lovely trail of flaming gasoline down each fucking hall… but I was a fucking teacher, and I was supposed to be somewhat stable. Somehow, I was pretty sure I wasn't allowed to think like that.

  Well, you can't control my thoughts, fuckers!

  I cringed, dropping my hand back down by my side as I realized I'd been standing in the middle of the hallway, looking toward the intercom and shaking my fist at it silently.

  I sighed, shaking my head. At any given moment throughout the day, all I had to do was glance down this hallway in the direction of his classroom, to find one to ten people standing outside there, gawking at him through the tiny window, sometimes fighting over the peeper like lions and hyenas over a wildebeest, or just plain interrupting his classroom by marching straight inside for an important chat.

  I knew Fletcher couldn't help it. He was just a ridiculously gorgeous alpha who was also really, really smart––though sometimes he was also really damn dumb––and really kind. And his fucking presence… I groaned as I watched him standing there. He was like a super alpha, even his alpha hormones had alpha hormones. He was like an omega magnet. They were drawn to him like the attraction of a positive and negative charge.

  I wish I could say I didn't know why it bothered me so much, but the truth was I wasn't any different than the omegas––and the two betas––that were surrounding him right then, staring up into his face, completely dazzled, because my dumb ass had managed to fall for the idiot, and not just a little. Fletcher didn't know it, and I would never tell him, but I'd completely given up on finding an alpha for myself.

  The thing was, I wasn't a cruel person, and it just wasn't fair to myself or some poor alpha out there––you know, one out of the hordes and hordes of alphas sitting around pining after me––to try to be in relationship with him, knowing he would never measure up. I didn't want to settle for second best, so I decided to be alone for the rest of my life.

  I knew Fletcher was gonna find that omega or beta someday. Hell, he might even find an alpha, and when he did, it was gonna devastate me, but until that day, I was gonna do everything I could to enjoy the time I had with him.

  He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine and a huge grin spread across his face like he hadn't seen me in years. It was looks like that one right there that made it impossible not to fall for the guy. If I didn't know that he was just a genuinely affectionate person with the people he cared about, I could convince myself that he was as much in love with me as I was with him.

  I smirked, knowing that Krista, the evil bitch who taught US history and shared hallways with Fletcher, and who had very pointedly informed me during lunch one day that she had every intention of trying to snag Fletcher for herself, like she fully expected that she was in competition with me, was gonna be more than a little peeved that my mere presence in the hallway got far more of Fletcher's attention than her low-cut, nearly see-through top ever could. And how the fuck did she get away with that shit? I barely had to even squint to make out almost every detail of her boobs. I was pretty sure I could count the tiny bumps on her areolae from here, and I was thirty yards away, and I thought Fletcher was trying to get away from her and the others.

  Kristin had been after Fletcher since she'd caught a glimpse of him during the two weeks before school started, when we were all supposed to be getting our classrooms ready. The omega hadn't gotten anything accomplished during that time with how much energy she'd put into stalking Fletcher. Her room still only had one banner hanging over the smartboard.

  He'd whined about her invasion in his classroom so much after the first three days, I'd decided to help him get his room done and try to act like a buffer, and then he'd helped me. What I hadn't expected was for her to show up and start hanging out in my room too.

  I didn't know how she didn't see Fletcher wasn't interested in her. I felt like most people would have caught on by now, but apparently not her.

  Fletcher never showed interest in anyone, actually. I didn't know why, either. For some reason discussions of that nature were some of the only ones Fletcher and I didn't have. I knew on my end it was because I didn't want to hear it, but I didn't really know why he didn't ask me about my dating life. Probably because there wasn't much to speak of.

  I hadn’t tried dating once since Fletcher and I became roommates about three years ago after we'd moved in together within the first few months of us knowing each other.

  Grady had been the last, about a week before Fletcher and I became roommates. He'd been a great guy who had seemed pretty much perfect on paper, but the chemistry hadn't been there, and when I was running over his qualities in my head, the one thing that kept popping out at me was that he wasn't Fletcher.

  As shallow as it might've been, he wasn't tall enough, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't handsome enough, and on the other end, he wasn't funny enough. He was caring, but he wasn't an action type of person. When he saw someone in need, he simply commented that somebody needed to help that person. Fletcher, on the other hand, wouldn't have announced someone's need for assistance, he just helped.

  Our breakup had been pretty disastrous. We'd only dated for like a month, and that had really just consisted of a few actual dates and one movie night at my house, but toward the end, especially when he'd call and Fletcher would be at my house, he'd started to get jealous. When he found out our plans to be roommates, he'd lost it, showing up at my house… where Fletcher just happened to be, again, and basically told me that I wasn't fooling anyone. He knew that Fletcher and I were dating, and that he didn't understand our game, but that he didn't want to be a part of it any longer.

  I didn't understand what he was talking about, and neither did Fletcher, but I'd been pretty torn up about it, not because he'd broken up with me—I fully expected that since I was about to break up with him as well because he'd turned into a giant asshole—but it had been the way that it didn't bother me at all that actually bothered me.

  I knew that I wanted to start a family, but I couldn't find it in me to settle for somebody that I didn't actually want to spend time with just for my biological clock, which was why I had a doctor's appointment after school. One that would hopefully tell me that my body was healthy enough to grow a baby––I was pretty confident it was, sinc
e I'd always been pretty healthy––and to fill out the papers for them to start hunting for some sperm for me.

  As expected, Fletcher broke away from his group while Kristin was in the middle of a sentence and jogged over in my direction, throwing a wave over his shoulder when someone yelled bye. His entire fan club seemed devastated, but by the glare I was getting from Kristin, she was pissed. She'd probably have something rude to say to me later, but she'd never do it in front of Fletcher. She wasn't that stupid.

  "Hey, what do you think you want for dinner?" Fletcher asked, reaching out to pull me under his arm as we made our way to the teachers’ lounge, for lunch. We almost always had lunch together, since our planning periods weren't at the same time, and Fletcher always whined that our evenings just weren't enough.

  I'd laughed, since I was pretty sure he'd been joking every time he said it, but I'd actually agreed completely, since it never felt like we had enough time together.

  We always rode to school together, and of course, home again, but we got to school at seven, usually spending the first forty-five minutes hanging out in one of our classrooms, and chatting, before splitting up a little before the first bell rang, so we could actually plan. If we didn't get our lunch break together, by the time three-thirty rolled around, and all the kids were out of the school, those eight hours felt like twenty—especially in comparison to the mere five and a half we got to spend together in the evenings, if we didn't have something else to do.

  I knew it was silly, but the more time I got with him the better I felt.

  "Are you cooking?" I asked, wrapping one arm around his waist and smirking up at him, ignoring the tingles that moved along my body anywhere we were touching, even though I should have been used to it by now.

  In a way, I hoped I never got used to it. It was probably the most thrilling thing I was going to get for the rest of my life.

  He raised an eyebrow, giving me a crooked smile. "Well, I'm definitely not letting you cook."

  I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Yeah, that was me—an omega who didn't know how to cook. Probably the least culinary-inclined human in existence, actually. I'd even tried no-bake cookies one time and managed to put too much oatmeal in the pot, so the shit bubbled over and caught the stove on fire.

  Fletcher now smacked my hand away every single time I reached for something more complicated than a cup of coffee, and he'd almost banned me from that as well when I'd sleepily poured cream into the filter instead of coffee grounds and ended up making hot cream and gummed up the basket.

  I was, however, pretty fond of cleaning, which really wasn't his strong suit. Meaning, he was the type of man who dropped something right where he was when he was done with it. Like, I couldn't even begin to count the number of times I'd tripped over his robe. It was always, always in the middle of the floor somewhere in his bedroom when I went to grab the laundry.

  So, we had a system. He cooked, or ordered take out, and I maintained laundry, dishes and the bathrooms––you know, stuff I felt strongly about the cleanliness of. We usually spent our Sundays dusting, vacuuming and mopping, and I'd even help him with the unburnable parts of a late lunch on those days.

  We had a system, and so far, it seemed to be working for both of us.

  "Anything is good with me, but it's been a while since you baked manicotti," I said, batting my eyes.

  I nearly sighed at the soft smile he gave me. It was impossible not to be in love with someone who looked at you like that. I knew he didn't mean it the way I took it, but damn, I could sure pretend sometimes, and I did.

  "It's been a while since I made manicotti, because every other week you decide you're giving up on carbs." He pulled me even closer, booping me on the end of the nose. "But if carbs are on this week, I'll make manicotti today."

  I curled my lip, letting my head fall against his shoulder, whimpering. "You're right, carbs are evil." I reached down, pinching the roll that just wouldn't seem to go away and tended to congregate around my bellybutton. "Why does all the good stuff have to add inches to my waist. And why has my metabolism forsaken me?"

  He rolled his eyes, like he always did any time I brought up gaining weight. He just didn't get it, I'd been chubby most of my life, never necessarily unhealthily overweight, but always just on the verge. I knew I wasn't necessarily fat, but I also knew if I didn't watch what I ate, I'd get there fast.

  I'd come a long way from high school, and though I was mostly trim and my face actually looked tons better than it used to, I was still struggling to lose that extra ten to fifteen pounds needed to give me the kind of the definition I was wanting.

  "I don't know why you worry about it so much," he said, echoing the thoughts I was having. "You have a great body. I've always thought you looked better like this than that time you lost fifteen pounds. You just didn't look healthy like that."

  I sighed, shaking my head. "I looked plenty healthy. I just didn't look like me."

  I'd worked so damn hard to lose those extra pounds, but I'd been fucking miserable… and cranky as hell. Some people just aren’t meant to go without carbs. I was one of those people.

  "Exactly," he said, wrapping his arm around my head and nuzzling his cheek against my temple. "I like the way you look. You. I like that you’re muscular with just a little bit of softness on top. Plus you’re way more fun to snuggle like this."

  We'd just entered the break room, and I looked around with wide eyes, noticing how some of the teachers—the ones who didn't always chase Fletcher around—were smirking. I sighed, knowing what was coming later.

  They always teased me when Fletcher wasn't around, about the fact that we looked and acted like a married couple. Hell, we probably spent more time together than most married couples, and still never tired of each other. In fact, the only thing we didn't do that married couples did, was kiss and have sex, and from what I'd heard from some of the ladies around here, most married couples didn't do that either.

  For Fletcher's part, he never seemed to notice the looks. Or if he did, they didn't bother him. On the odd occasion that somebody said something teasing about our relationship in front of him, he just chuckled, pulling me into his side and telling everybody in the room that I was the best husband in the world.

  We made our way over to our table in the corner, where we usually sat to be a little way from everyone. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my smirk when Kristin walked in, her eyes immediately fixing on our table.

  She seemed more determined than usual as she marched over to us, her face far less friendly than she usually tried to make it when dealing with Fletcher. I wasn't surprised when she grabbed a chair from another table and dragged it over, sitting across from us, since Fletcher had put himself in the corner, using me as protection like he always did when it came to Kristin. I told him more than once that he was gonna end up getting me beat up, but he'd always just hugged me close, telling me he'd never let anybody beat me up, not even the beauty queen.

  "I thought you were gonna save me a seat," Kristin said, waiting for Fletcher to look up before she gave him a bright smile. A big, bright smile that I thought might show off her snake fangs a little, but I was sure probably won her most of the beauty contests she was always quick to remind us all that she had won.

  It wasn't really a surprise, since she definitely was a beautiful woman, but if she'd ever been asked to enter a personality competition, I wouldn't put my money on her.

  "I'm sorry, Kristin," Fletcher said, blinking at the her innocently. "I didn't know you wanted me to save you a spot, but I actually have something really important I need to talk to Gates about. You know, in private."

  I didn't know how he did it, I was pretty sure if I had said something like that to anyone, I'd get some kind of hateful look, and possibly even flipped off or smacked, but Fletcher always did things in such a charming way, it was like they couldn't help but smile at everything he said, even if he was basically telling them to buzz off. Like Kristin.

  "Oh
, I'm sorry," she said smiling sweetly at the man. "I didn't realize that."

  She went to stand, but Fletcher put out his hands, not touching her, but stilling her with a hand in the air. I saw hope flash across her face as she eased back down into the seat, and I did my best not to show any reaction at all as I tried to figure out what the hell he was doing, since I had no desire to sit there with the woman and listen to her constantly trying to one-up anything anyone said by telling stories about her life.

  Maybe I could make it through a few minutes of it and then pretend like I needed to use the restroom or something and get the hell out of there.

  He waited until she was fully seated and leaning forward on the table, shooting me a smug smile like she'd won some kind of battle I didn't even realize we were having, and I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  "You stay," Fletcher said, smiling brightly. "We'll just go outside for a minute. I love fall, and I feel like I just don't get to enjoy it as much during the day. It won't be long before it's over."

  The expression on her face didn't change, probably years and years of pageants where she had to smile no matter what, but I could see the way her shoulders sagged in disappointment. If it wasn't for the fact that I knew the woman was a straight-up evil bitch, I'd actually feel sorry for her in that moment.

  We stood, and he reached out, grabbing my elbow and steering me toward the door, blatantly touching me with a familiarity that more than one person had confused with romantic feelings, and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, frowning slightly.

  Though I didn't think he usually did that kind of thing on purpose, he definitely was then. My confused gaze moved back over to Kristin, and I cringed at the death glare she was giving me, probably blaming me for the fact that Fletcher wanted nothing to do with her. Like I could take the blame for that. It was her own cold, awful personality that made it to where people avoided her all the time.