Dale cracked a smile. June waited until he took the test kits from her, before leaning in. Then she slid her hands under his arms and hefted him to his feet. Dale squawked.
“Off you go,” June said, nudging him to the door. “Do you want me to accompany you?”
It was just a pregnancy test. He knew he couldn’t get pregnant, so it wasn’t like he needed her babying him. Dale shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t need you staring at pee-drenched sticks. It’s not even your pee.” Dale smiled weakly. “Work on that experiment you kicked me off.”
“Yes, professor,” June said, squeezing his shoulder. “And if it’s bad, call me, okay? I’ll come fetch you.”
“Sure.”
Dale stepped out of the lab, looking at the gleaming test kits. The boxes were pink, or white, or blue—all different brands. June had tried to get him a wide variety to minimize the error margin, and he appreciated it.
It wasn’t as though he’d need them, though.
He trudged through the corridor, looking at the floor tiles. There wasn’t a baby involved. If there were, he’d have gotten pregnant years ago, and he’d still have an intact marriage and an alpha to belong to.
He shoved those thoughts out of his head, tucking his chin down further. He’d do the tests, see that they were all negative, and show them to June. And hopefully, that would be the last mention of Greg for a while.
Dale walked faster down the corridor, reading the fine print on the boxes. Hold the end of the kit under your urine stream for 5 seconds. Then, leave the kit on a level surface for 5 minutes.
Did he have twenty-five seconds of pee? Maybe. He had had coffee.
He rounded a corner. Crashed into a solid chest. The boxes in his hands scattered across the floor. Dale wobbled, trying to find his balance. “Ah!”
The person grabbed his arm, and Dale sucked in a breath, recognizing aspen. His heart thudded.
Inches away, Greg stared back at him, his fingers tightening around Dale’s arm.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Dale couldn’t help looking into Greg’s dark eyes, at his full lips, the flare of his nostrils as he breathed. Greg’s eyes narrowed. “June’s back?”
“Uh. June?” Dale blinked. Then he remembered he was supposed to fake that relationship with his post-doc. He’d been distracted by the test kits, then Greg. And Greg’s chest rose and fell, a sturdy, inviting wall. “I, uh. Yes. She’s back.”
“She’s not your alpha,” Greg said. Then he glanced down at the test kits, and froze.
I told him about the infertility. What if he thinks I lied?
“June wants me to do the tests,” Dale said, his stomach twisting. “I don’t see why I should.”
Greg narrowed his eyes. “Why would she want you to?”
“It’s none of your business.”
But a flicker of hurt flashed through Greg’s eyes. Dale remembered last week, remembered Greg hesitating when he asked about condoms.
Dale shrugged awkwardly. “She thinks I’m pregnant.”
“You said you can’t get pregnant,” Greg said, but he dipped his head closer, sniffing.
“I really can’t. Please release me.”
Greg watched him, doubtful. He slid his callused fingers off Dale’s arm, then crouched to pick up the test kits. “You need that many?”
“I guess June’s trying to convince me.”
Greg glanced down the empty corridors. “Because of last week?”
“I guess.”
“C’mon, let’s go.” Greg adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, dragging Dale down a quiet corridor. They stopped by a common-use bathroom, one of the wider ones that would fit wheelchairs, and Greg held the door open for Dale.
“You don’t have to be this polite,” Dale said, ducking inside. “I can do this by myself.”
“Five tests? I’ve seen people do a couple at a time, and it’s tedious.” Greg pulled the door shut, locking them in. “Can’t believe you’d try to do five at a go.”
Dale shrugged, looking around. There was a toilet, a sink, and a paper towel dispenser. No privacy at all.
“You’re going to watch me pee?” he asked, disbelieving.
Greg raised an eyebrow. “You’re worried about privacy now?”
The memories from last week rose in his mind; Greg’s hand down Dale’s pants, his fingers rubbing over Dale’s hole. Greg’s knot inside him, stretching his body open.
Dale gulped. “I guess not.”
Greg smiled, and Dale tried not to stare. There was nothing going on between them. Greg had stumbled upon Dale in heat. They’d fucked. And now they were back to being teacher and student.
He lined the pregnancy tests along the sink, opening the boxes one at a time. Greg stepped up to help, his arm brushing warm against Dale’s.
“You really don’t have to,” Dale said.
Greg angled a look at him. “What if I want to?”
I don’t believe you. Dale picked open the next box, pulling the thin plastic kit out. “This is... personal. I’m your professor.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I don’t understand why you’re still around.”
Greg sighed. “I told you, I like you.”
“Even though you shouldn’t.”
Greg’s throat worked; he glanced away. “Yeah.”
He understood, then, that any deeper relationship between them was futile.
They opened the rest of the kits in silence, five sticks of plastic with absorbent strips at their ends. Greg read the instructions on each kit, rearranging them according to the instructions.
Dale breathed in, then out. The furrows on June’s forehead had been deep. She’d never pulled serious jokes on him, and her dash to the college bookstore had made his pulse stumble. He couldn’t be pregnant. “I don’t smell like a pregnant person, do I?”
“I don’t know.” Greg looked up from the test kits. “I’ve never been around pregnant people.”
“You said you’ve seen people do pregnancy tests before.”
“My friends, yeah. And the time I almost knocked my—my best friend up.” Greg winced. “I was a stupid kid.”
“You’re still not much older than a kid,” Dale said, watching him. Why wasn’t Greg with his best friend, if they’d almost conceived? Was he pursuing omega professors, only to go home to someone else at night? June had said he was unbonded.
“I’m an adult,”
