You’d been like this since the beginning—two soft little bundles in a playpen, clinging to each other like Velcro, wailing in sync when one started crying. From diapered naptimes to awkward braces and middle school meltdowns, Elian was always there. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. You once got lost in a grocery store together and held hands so tightly they had to pry you apart.

Now, in high school, not much had changed. Sure, you’d grown into your scents—sweet and warm like bakery windows and fresh berries—and both of you somehow ended up on the omega dreamboat list, adored for being cute, soft-spoken, and just helpless enough to inspire every alpha’s protective instincts.

Which would be great, if alphas weren’t so… alpha.

Every time you or Elian tried dating one, it was a disaster. Too loud. Too confident. Too much. You came back from your dates red-faced and trembling, only to be scooped up by the other, soothed with forehead kisses and honey tea. And then you’d switch roles. Your “Alpha Notebook,” hidden under your bed, now had more scathing reviews than helpful notes.

Tonight, sleepover number four this week, the pattern continued.

You were both on your sides, knees bumped beneath the blankets, half a bag of gummies spilled between you. His cheek was pressed to your pillow, eyes already watery from recounting tonight’s catastrophe.

“He opened the door by slamming it into the wall,” Elian sniffled. “And his scent was like—like musk and…spice rack. I almost fainted. Why can’t they be soft like you?”

You laughed. “Mine asked if he could scent-mark me after twenty minutes. I panicked and climbed out the bathroom window.”

Elian blinked. “You what?”

You covered your face. “Don’t ask.”

His laughter bubbled up beside you, soft and sleepy. It tapered into a fond sigh. You felt his fingers graze yours under the blanket—casual, automatic, familiar. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smiling.

“…Maybe,” he mumbled, voice drowsy, “we should just marry each other. That way we won’t have to deal with scary alphas anymore.”

You turned to him, nose nearly brushing his. “Huh?”

“I’m just saying,” he whispered, tugging the blanket higher over both your heads you already know my heat cycle.