And last week, Dale had clung to him, his pupils blown, his legs trembling.
Greg looked back at his experiment procedure, adding aqueous gold to his vial.
Dale was pregnant. With Greg’s baby. He didn’t look pregnant, with his lab coat cinched neatly around his waist, but Greg was starting to recognize that honey-sweet scent. It hadn’t been on Dale before. And Greg wanted to mark him all over now, even if part of him bristled about the baby. It’s not your fault, the voice said. You asked about condoms. Dale said no.
He wanted to be angry. He hadn’t consented to being a dad. He was twenty-two, for fuck’s sake, and he hadn’t factored in space for a kid in his life.
Except Dale had been close to breaking down in the washroom. He’d swayed on the toilet, huddling into himself, his eyes unfocused, and Greg hadn’t thought I’m infertile would lead to this.
Dale hadn’t expected it, either. If he’d been infertile for years, if he’d shut down right after that conversation last week, then it made sense that he badly wanted a child. And Greg had given him one.
Where do we go from here?
Dale turned to face the students in his lab, his palm on his belly, and Greg knew Dale would protect the child no matter what. Dale wasn’t blaming him for the pregnancy. But Greg knew responsibility, and he sure as hell wasn’t leaving Dale alone to raise that child.
Maybe that was what shook him. He wasn’t even out of school yet. He didn’t have a job. He was the alpha, and his instincts said You need to support that child. You need to get a job and help pay for it.
So yeah, between his schoolwork and basketball, he’d scrounge up some hours here and there. Maybe spend less time on school. Make some money, help Dale with the baby.
Across the lab, his eyes locked with Dale’s. For a moment, Greg wondered if the students around would recognize their scents—aspen on Dale, hibiscus on Greg. Some of the students glanced up, but for the most part, they kept their heads down, busy with their own projects.
Dale looked away, walking by without acknowledging him.
It felt like a slap. Greg scowled. He knew Dale was trying to keep attention away from him.
But it rankled, and Greg’s attention anchored on Dale as he pipetted the sodium hydroxide into the vial, then the buffer solution. Dale’s scent wafted into his nose, layered over with Greg’s aspen, then June’s birch. Did Dale really think he needed a second alpha’s scent? Dale was carrying Greg’s child. He should be wearing Greg’s scent alone.
Except if Greg’s dad found out, both he and Dale would catch so much crap. Dale could lose his job.
Greg’s chest squeezed; his hand twitched. The tip of his micropipette hooked on the vial’s neck, knocking it sideways. In slow motion, the vial skidded off the magnetic stirrer, spilling gold solution across the counter. Greg grabbed the vial before it rolled off the edge. “Shit!”
Dale’s gaze snapped over. He grabbed paper towels off a side counter, striding over in a breeze of hibiscus.
“No worries,” Dale said, setting paper towels on the spill. “Just make sure not to hurt yourself.”
“Dale!” June hurried through the lab, her eyes narrowed. When she reached Dale’s side, she muttered, “I’ve told you—no more experiments. That includes cleanup.”
“I’m not touching it,” Dale said, showing her his bare hands. June’s eyes narrowed further, and Greg watched them, unease whispering through his mind. What did June know that he didn’t? She shouldn’t be the one telling Dale what to do; he was the professor.
“What’s wrong with the spill?” he asked.
June’s gaze darted around the lab, landing on the other students. She waited until the students returned to their work, before she nodded at Dale. “Toxicity of gold nanoparticles,” she muttered. “I’m not letting Dale work on experiments.”
Greg froze, ignoring the possessive part of himself that wanted to growl at June. Dale’s safety was more important.
At the start of the semester, he’d read the Material Safety Data Sheets for the project—it only occurred to him now that gold nanoparticles, in larger doses, were toxic to fetuses. He’d ignored that bit, thinking he wouldn’t encounter a pregnant person in the lab.
Some assumption that had been.
A scarlet tint crept up Dale’s throat. He frowned at June, glancing surreptitiously at Greg. “I’m telling you, I’ll be fine.”
“No,” June said. “I’ll do whatever experiments you need.”
“Or me,” Greg said, staring at Dale. That baby was also his. And he wasn’t letting Dale be exposed to the nanoparticles. Especially not if June was the one dragging Dale away from the experiments.
Mine, he wanted to say. You aren’t June’s omega. I won’t let you get hurt.
Dale closed his mouth, looking away. June turned to grab a pair of gloves, and Greg stepped between her and Dale, so he’d be closer to his professor. His omega.
June picked up the paper towels Dale had left, chuckling. She wiped down the spill, then looked up, meeting Greg’s eyes. Greg tried not to scowl.
“All yours,” she said. “But be careful next time.”
She glanced at Dale, then back at Greg. Greg understood that she wasn’t talking about the lab bench, but Dale.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful,” he said. “Can’t do shit about spilled milk.”
“There’s damage control.” June folded up the paper towels. “But make sure that’s all the damage you do, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
Greg bristled. Of course he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else, especially not Dale. “I know.”
June stared him down, and Greg held her gaze until she passed him in a rush of birch-scented air.
Next to him, Dale smiled weakly. “Like June said, be careful with the experiments. I can’t afford to waste all those reagents, you know.”
Greg blinked. “Lab running out of grants?” he asked quietly.
“I was joking.” Dale’s smile grew wider, and Greg relaxed somewhat. “But you do have
