Anna Wineheart Books

Eleven years later

“Bye,” Dale called out to five-year-old Benjamin, who was pulling on his school bag by Meadowfall Tot’s bag shelves. “See you tomorrow!”

“Bye-bye,” Benjamin called back with a wave, his other hand clasped around his mother’s fingers. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Dale!”

Together, the boy and his mom stepped out of the childcare center, the bells on the door jangling as it swung shut.

Dale sighed, watching as the children in the center left one by one, their parents picking them up after a Monday at work. It was June; the sky was still bright out, and would be for a few hours yet. He’d been looking forward to this week, too—Phil would be graduating from elementary school this evening.

Why do they even need a graduation ceremony? Greg had grumbled when Dale showed him the invite two weeks ago. It’s not like the kids have done a bunch at eleven years old.

It’s just an opportunity for us to see Phil in his graduation robes, Dale had answered, grinning. Can you imagine how cute he’d look? I bet it’ll be even more fun if you could dress up as Super Alpha for the ceremony. He’ll have a blast!

Oh, hell no, Greg had said.

Oh, gods, yes, Dale had answered.

Which led to Dale looking through Greg’s comics first, then his old photos, the faded ones he’d taken with his best friend twenty years ago. Greg had lost his Super Alpha outfit from that time, but Dale had been determined to sew him another one.

Countless hours and needle pricks later, they had come up with a working spandex suit: crimson, with black trimmings down the arms and sides, and a spray-painted utility belt to match.

I’m not gonna wear that to the graduation, Greg had said. All the kids are gonna look at me.

And how many of them will say ‘Super Alpha came to my graduation’ ten years from now? Dale had retorted. Then, to convince his husband, he’d added, You know Phil loves Super Alpha. You’ve spent the last eight years reading those comics to him.

Greg had looked between the suit they’d stayed up three nights to make, and the button-down shirt with black pants and formal shoes. I’ll think about it, he’d finally said. Maybe some other time.

Dale had left him to decide, wondering if Greg still felt the need to dress nicely, after Bernard Hastings had spent so long instilling in him the value of status and dress codes. Usually, they’d attend events in suits, but a school graduation was new.

With bated breath, Dale collected the coloring sheets from the children, tidying up the buckets of building blocks. The rainbows on the center walls beamed down at him, and the rest of his kindergartners flipped through the storybooks, waiting for their parents to pick them up.

Over the last decade, Dale had settled into his job. The staff at the childcare center was friendly, helping him fit in as a teacher. Through the years, he’d had his share of welcoming new omegas into their ranks.

He still missed the college and his nanoparticle lab, though. June had taken over in the years after he’d left, and was now a professor at Meadowfall College. As an alpha, it had only taken her eight years to achieve tenure. They still talked frequently, and exchanged pictures of their families.

All things considered, this wasn’t such a bad place to be, unlike what he’d feared when he’d first lost his job at the college.

The bells on the door jangled.

Dale’s breath caught when a masked man in a red suit stepped through. It was an alpha; he smelled like aspen, crimson spandex stretched across his broad shoulders and down his chest, showing off the flex of his biceps as he shut the door.

Then he turned, his black eyes searching out Dale, and Dale was smiling so wide he thought his face might split.

“Super Alpha!” Sally cried. The other children turned to look, scrambling to their feet.

“Hey, kids,” Super Alpha said, and Dale’s heart swelled so big it felt as though it might burst. “I’m here to pick up someone.”

The children rushed around him in a clamor, touching his suit, the black utility belt at his waist. Dale couldn’t stop laughing.

“That’s your ride, Dale?” Lisa asked, looking up from the attendance book. She was still the center’s headmistress, and Dale had told her about leaving early today. She’d promised to close up the center so he could attend Phil’s graduation.

“That’s my ride,” Dale said, finally stepping forward.

“Have fun! Graduations are so nostalgic.” Lisa grinned and waved him off, and Dale saluted. Lisa had been around for him through his employment, and she’d met Greg a handful of times, during their staff events. She’d never once commented on their age difference, which Dale highly appreciated.

He made his way past the low tables and bag shelves, nudging through the swarm of ten kindergartners. “Come on, dears. Super Alpha has business to attend to. Do let him leave.”

Up close, Super Alpha was even more majestic. Dale had stitched a white A over his left breast, and his sleeves ended in sleek black gloves. His mask extended over his eyes, leaving his full lips exposed. Inches away, his warmth emanated through the air between them, familiar and comforting.

“Hey,” Super Alpha said.

“Hello. Are you here for an arrest? Have I committed a crime?” Dale asked, smiling.

“Did he?” Sally asked, wide-eyed.

“Nah, he didn’t.” Super Alpha slipped his arm around Dale’s waist and drew him close, kissing him lightly on the lips.

Some of the children gasped. Others cooed. Someone said, “Mr. Dale’s married to Super Alpha?”

“Can you really fly?” someone else asked.

“I have a Super Mobile,” Super Alpha said, ruffling their hair. “But we’ll have to leave now. Have a villain to catch. See you, kids.”

Dale laughed, and Greg swept him out of the childcare center, his arm strong and sturdy around Dale’s waist. “Been catching villains all day, Super Alpha?’

“More like I’ve been taking a team out to the rivers for some water samples,” Greg said as they neared their car, pulling the passenger door open for Dale. “The wonders of being promoted: you let your underlings do your dirty work.”

“Ha! That sounds like something a villain would say.” Dale chuckled, purring when Greg kissed him again, deeper this time. They lingered outside the car, Greg’s lips soft against his, Dale’s fingers skimming the silky fabric over his alpha’s abs. “Mm. This suit really shows you off. Especially your butt.”

Greg pulled away with a smile. “Hey, you wanted me to wear this to the graduation.”

“I’m sure everyone will be suitably envious of me,” Dale said, smiling wryly. He slid into the car, Greg joining him inside a few moments later. “Although… maybe they’d start looking at me, too.”

For a moment, he hesitated, swearing at himself. He’d forgotten that, by putting Greg in the spotlight, he’d be drawing attention to himself, and their relationship.

Bernard Hastings had never made a fuss publicly over their bonding. He’d been civil the few times Greg, Dale, and Phil had been to his mansion, but Dale felt his scrutiny every time he appeared in front of his ex-employer.

No one would recognize him at the graduation, but people would look—he was fifty-three now, and Greg thirty-three.

“Hey,” Greg said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll be fine.”

Dale’s ring gleamed. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to kill the tendril of anxiety in his chest. They’d spent eleven years around Meadowfall, and few had given them a second look. Everything had gone right with their relationship. Most importantly, Greg was still Dale’s alpha—that would never change. Dale wanted Greg as his alpha.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I won’t think about it.”

The sun hung low in the sky when they arrived at Meadowfall Elementary. It was balmy out, and Greg slipped his arm around Dale, waving when a few parents looked over and grinned.

“Nice suit,” someone called.

“Thanks,” Greg answered.

“I was surprised you wore it,” Dale said as they headed through the parking lot. “You were grumbling so much when I sewed it up.”

“Mainly because you kept sticking needles in me,” Greg said, squeezing his waist. Dale grimaced. “Nah, I’m kidding. It wasn’t that bad.”

Dale leaned into him. “If you’re sure. I had meant it as a joke when I first brought it up.”

“I know.”

“I mean… Do you think Tony would mind? About the suit?”

Greg breathed in deeply, his eyes turning solemn. Dale knew he still thought about his late best friend sometimes, and he didn’t envy Greg for it. “I think he’d be fine. We had talked about this, too, you know. I’d told him I’d dress up for my kids. So if he’s watching from the heavens now, I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal.”

Dale cracked a smile, squeezing Greg’s hand. “Okay.”

He leaned in to adjust Greg’s mask, so it fitted better over his eyes. Greg kissed him. Dale’s heart missed a beat, even after eleven years of marriage.

They made their way to the school lawn, where there was a small stage set up in front of a couple hundred seats. Greg held his hand all the way to the front row, and Dale let him, remembering the difficult times they’d been through. He’d almost lost his alpha; there was no way he would shy away from their relationship now, not when he’d come so close to losing Greg.

At 5:30 PM, the principal of Meadowfall Elementary gave a short speech. Then a teacher began calling out names, and one by one, the fifth graders filed onto the stage, shaking the principal’s hand. They all looked at Greg, some of them breaking into a smile.

“You’re famous,” Dale whispered, nudging him.

“Yeah, well. You made the outfit. I can’t take credit for that.”

Dale squeezed his hand, beaming.

Fifteen minutes into the ceremony, Phil trooped up the stairs to the stage. He looked like a younger version of Greg, all chestnut hair and black eyes, except his limbs were thin, like a gibbon’s. The graduation robes looked big on him, all satiny and blue, the square cap perched jauntily on his head.

Phil looked at his feet, the corners of his lips pulled down, as though he was upset about something. Dale’s heart squeezed. What had happened to their baby?

As Phil stepped up to the principal, he glanced over the crowd. Dale waved, and so did Greg.

Phil must’ve seen Super Alpha first. His eyes darted to Dale, then back to Super Alpha, and his eyes lit up, his face aglow with joy.

“I told you he’d love it,” Dale whispered.

“Yeah, I know. You were right,” Greg whispered back, grinning as Phil puffed up his chest, shaking the principal’s hand. He received his diploma with the biggest smile, looking back at Greg and Dale.

“Say thank you,” Dale called.

“Thank you,” Phil told the principal.

Then he skipped across the stage and down the other set of stairs, crossing the lawn to barrel into Greg’s arms. “I didn’t know you were gonna be Super Alpha, Dad! This is way cool!”

“I was Super Alpha a long time ago,” Greg said, ruffling his hair. Dale didn’t miss the way Greg ran his wrist over Phil’s forehead, then his shoulders, marking their son with his own scent. Mine, that gesture said. “How’re you doing?”

Phil pulled away from him and squirmed into Dale’s arms, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He smelled like dried sweat and playground dirt, and Dale combed his hair straight. Then Phil flopped onto the empty chair next to Greg, his legs swinging, his bright eyes roving over Super Alpha. “I’m better now. I didn’t know you had a Super Alpha suit!”

“Your dad and I spent the last three nights working on it,” Greg said.

“Oh,” Phil said. His eyebrows crawled up. “I thought you were yelling because Dad was doing other things to you. You know, the ones you say not to disturb you for.”

Greg froze. Dale’s cheeks burned. Were they usually that loud?

“I was poking your dad, yes,” Dale said, torn between a smile and a wince. “He said the needle was very sharp.”

Greg gave him a pointed look. Dale smiled sheepishly. “C’mon, let’s see your diploma,” Greg said, reaching out. “We’ll hang it up on the living room wall.”

Over his shoulder, Dale read: This diploma has been awarded to Phil Hastings, who has been found worthy of character, and who has successfully completed Years One through Five at Meadowfall Elementary.

Looking at it, Dale couldn’t help swelling with pride. Over the years, they’d tried their best to provide the best they could for their son, showering him with love and care.

“Proud of you, Phil,” Greg said.

Phil beamed.

“We love you, Phil,” Dale added fondly. “I hope you know that.”

“Mhm. Love you too.” Phil wriggled. “Can I have a Super Alpha suit, too?”

Dale stilled, glancing at Greg. Super Alpha had been a big part of Greg’s childhood, something he’d shoved away after his best friend died. But right now, Greg was ruffling Phil’s hair, grinning. “Yeah. If you ask nicely, I’m sure Dale will make one for you. But only if you promise to do your homework.”

Dale’s heart warmed. Greg’s grief didn’t affect him as much these days, and Dale was relieved to see he was coping better.

“Fine, fine.” Phil grinned, climbing into Greg’s lap. Greg hugged him. Dale took his diploma, in case he accidentally crushed it.

“Anyway,” Dale said. “We’re eating out tonight! Graduations always come with a dinner to celebrate—your dad and I had Mexican food when he graduated from college, you know.”

“You still remember that?” Greg kissed Dale’s cheek, his lips light as a butterfly’s wings.

“We had pulled pork,” Dale said.

“You always have pulled pork at El Asado,” Phil told them. “I think the tortilla soup is better, though.”

Dale laughed. “Would you like to have dinner at El Asado, then?”

Phil grinned. “Yeah!”

“You guys have the same favorite restaurant,” Greg said, kissing Phil on the forehead.

“Isn’t it your favorite, too?” Phil asked, frowning.

“I like your dad’s cooking best,” Greg said. Then he leaned in, kissing Dale on the lips.

They were out in public, seated in the front row. The parents behind them probably saw. For a moment, Dale froze, trying not to look behind. Despite Greg kissing in the parking lot, and despite their bonding being eleven years ago, this particular fear still took a while to banish.

But he breathed out, allowing himself to sink back into the moment. Greg loved him, loved their son, and that was all that mattered. So he kissed back, and Greg smiled against his lips.

“Yuck,” Phil said. “I’m never kissing anyone.”

“Maybe you will someday,” Dale said after, when Greg slipped an arm around his waist.

“Maybe not,” Phil said, wrinkling his nose.

They left their seats when the ceremony drew to a close. The sky was a deep velvety blue above them, the evening breeze cool on their skin. With Phil between them, Greg and Dale headed for their car, and Phil hopped into the backseat.

Business at El Asado was in full swing by the time they arrived. Waiters in jaunty hats navigated the crowded tables, and the savory aroma of stewed pork filled the air.

While they waited for a seat, Dale whispered to Phil, “What were you worried about? You had a frowny face before the ceremony.”

Phil squirmed, eyeing Dale, then Greg. “It’s not a good thing to talk about.”

Dale winced. Was it bullies? Did something unfair happen? “If you tell us, we’ll talk to the teachers about it. Mrs. Mulberry will listen, I’m sure.”

“I’ll tell Dad,” Phil said, leaning toward Greg. “I think that’ll be better.”

“Okay.” Dale smoothed his hand over Phil’s messy brown hair, smiling at him. “I’ll wait.”

Greg glanced at Dale, then leaned down, so Phil could whisper in his ear. He was attracting attention in his Super Alpha outfit—the children in the restaurant peered over their seats at him, and some of the adults looked over, too, their gazes turning sentimental. Dale watched them, his hand on Phil’s shoulder.

While Phil whispered, Greg nodded, concentrating on his son’s voice. It was sweet of him. Eleven years ago, he’d been twenty-two, and not even out of school. He hadn’t had plans for his life; not even for a child. But he had come to accept the baby, caring for Phil, and Dale couldn’t be any happier with his alpha.

Greg’s eyes darted up at Dale. Then he scowled, glancing at their son. “Yeah, well. If they say that again, go ahead and punch them. You have my permission.”

“Greg,” Dale said, staring at him. That was… not what Greg usually told Phil.

His husband straightened. Phil looked worriedly between them.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Dale said, really so Phil would relax. Either way, if it was something important, Greg would share the news with him later.

Greg glanced at Phil, chewing his lip. Then he shrugged. “C’mon, the waiter’s waving at us.”

Greg stepped close to Dale, linking their fingers together. They followed Phil and the waiter to the table, and for the rest of the night, Greg sat close to Dale, tucking Dale’s hair behind his ear, squeezing his fingers, pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“You’re so sappy, Dad,” Phil said, looking at Greg.

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Greg said, taking Dale’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the bonding scar on his wrist. The one he’d left eleven years ago. “You and your dad are my most important people in the world. That won’t ever change.”

Phil grinned, and Dale leaned into his alpha, relaxing in their little bubble.

***

It was only much later, when they’d gotten home and Dale had tucked Phil into bed, that Dale had some time to himself.

He padded to the bedroom, still with its salt lamps in the corners and the paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. Over the last decade, they’d made some new additions—the bookcase by the desk, some picture frames on the wall, and a larger closet for both their clothes.

When Dale opened the door, he found Greg stretched out in their bed, paging through one of his older comics—Super Alpha at Sea. He’d pushed his mask up over his forehead, messing up his bangs, and lamplight gleamed on the silky spandex of his outfit.

For the first time today, Dale finally had his bondmate to himself. He took the time to admire his alpha—the slope of his shoulders, the muscle cording his arms. Greg’s hands cradled the comic, gentle like how he’d held their newborn baby so many years ago.

Greg met Dale’s eyes, his lips pulling up in a smirk. “Should I have taken this off?”

“No,” Dale said, closing the door behind himself. “I appreciate the private viewing.”

The suit stretched smoothly over Greg’s chest, down his abs, wrapping around his thick thighs. They’d stayed up late into the night, Dale unpicking and re-sewing the spandex, so the suit would fit just right on his husband. Whoever made the superhero costumes had made it look so easy; it was amazing that Greg had put up with his needles for so many nights, all for Phil’s sake.

“Had enough?” Greg asked when Dale climbed into bed, snuggling up into him.

“For now.” Dale slipped his arm into Greg’s. This close, Greg’s warmth soaked into his skin, a comforting presence that Dale was always thankful for. “What did Phil talk to you about? Earlier in the restaurant.”

“Oh, that.” Greg’s smile faded. “It’s not something you need to know.”

Dale frowned. “It had to be something big, if you’re explicitly allowing him to punch people. He’s eleven, Greg. He doesn’t need to get into trouble at school.”

“Some things are worth getting into trouble for.”

Greg stared intently at him, his expression brooking no argument. Dale had a sinking feeling that Greg meant him. Eleven years ago, they’d gotten into plenty of trouble because of their relationship, and it had been worth it. But with Phil? “I don’t know,” Dale said. “What can he get into trouble for that’s actually good?”

Greg sighed. “I can’t get out of not explaining, can I?”

“Probably not.”

Greg leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “He was talking about you. A couple of his classmates said rude shit about your age. He didn’t like that.”

Dale froze. He’d worried about this, on and off. Worried about the times he’d gone to pick Phil up from school, meeting Phil’s classmates along the way. He hadn’t tried dyeing his hair yet, and at fifty-three, there was far more gray than he’d have liked to admit. He couldn’t hide the crow’s feet at his eyes, either. With a sinking heart, he asked, “They said I’m old? Is Phil getting bullied for it?”

“It was just comments. I think Phil can hold his own,” Greg said, kissing Dale on the lips. “That’s what he was upset about.”

“Does Phil—does he think I’m old?” Dale’s stomach squeezed.

“You’re his dad. Your age doesn’t matter to him.”

“But his classmates…”

“He wanted to punch them,” Greg said, the corner of his lip twitching. “I think he might present as alpha.”

Dale laughed weakly. He didn’t doubt that. But he did doubt himself, turning his hands over to look at them. Greg covered Dale’s fingers with his own, slipping his other arm around Dale’s waist.

“C’mon. Think about something else,” Greg said, pressing a light kiss to his temple. “Phil’s fine. He’ll always love you as his dad.”

Dale could believe that. Their son often smiled at him, coming to him for help with puzzles. Sometimes, instead of asking Greg to read the Super Alpha comics, Phil would pull out one of Greg’s Mad Scientist comics instead, and hand them to Dale.

“I try my best,” Dale mumbled.

“I know.” Greg pulled him close, his chest warm and solid. Dale never tired of having his alpha so close. Through the years, Greg had stayed by his side, listening to Dale’s worries. In return, Dale encouraged him through his job at the Meadowfall Environmental Regulations Center, and both Dale and Phil attended Greg’s games with the Meadowfall basketball team.

He pressed kisses to Greg’s throat, kissing along his stubbled jaw. Then he kissed Greg’s lips, and Greg tangled their tongues together, damp and soft. Dale purred into his mouth.

“The suit looks good on you,” he whispered.

“You made it for me,” Greg whispered back.

“It fits you perfectly. This is exactly how ‘skin tight’ should look,” Dale said. “I’ve always wondered what superheroes look like with erections.”

Greg nipped his earlobe. “Why don’t you find out?”

Dale slid his hand down silky spandex, following the curve of Greg’s pectorals, then the grooves of his abs. He traced his fingers down the V of Greg’s hip, slipping down around the warm bulge between his legs. Greg growled.

The door squeaked open. “Dad?”

They froze, Dale discreetly setting his palm on Greg’s thigh. “Yes, dear?”

Phil stood in the doorway, his eyes bleary, his lips pulled down in a pout. His dinosaur PJs were wrinkled. “I had a nightmare. The school field turned into a green dinosaur and I couldn’t—couldn’t stop it. It was going to eat both of you.”

His face crumpled. Dale’s chest squeezed; he loved their little boy so much. Phil had been a miracle when he was conceived, and he was still a miracle to this day.

“I told you he loves you,” Greg murmured in Dale’s ear. More loudly, he asked, “Want a hug?”

“You’re too nice to me,” Dale whispered. He squirmed a little ways off from Greg, patting the mattress between them. “Just for tonight, you’re allowed to sleep over,” he told Phil. “We’ll help you fight those monsters. You know, in a past life, your dad and I were Roman gladiators.”

Phil cracked a smile, padding over to their bed. Then he crawled onto the mattress, tucking himself between Greg and Dale. “Did you fight a lot of people in the Colosseum?”

“Your dad fought a bunch,” Dale said, grinning when Greg raised his eyebrows. “Mostly I came up with jokes and made your dad laugh. So he married me, with his sword and shield and all.”

“I like your jokes,” Phil murmured, pulling the sheets up around himself.

“All right there? Are the pillows soft enough?” Dale asked, moving his pillow closer so Phil’s head rested comfortably on it.

“Mhm,” Phil said, wriggling. “It feels safer here.”

“We’ll fight all the monsters,” Dale said. “That dinosaur will be no match for Super Alpha. In fact, Super Alpha will be here anytime you want him.”

“Until my birthday?” Phil’s eyelids began to droop. “I want to see Super Alpha on my birthday, too.”

“Sure, he’ll have some presents for you,” Dale said.

Greg rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, smoothing his palm over Phil’s hair.

It was only when Phil’s breathing evened out and he’d fallen asleep, that Greg whispered, “Did you just sign me up for more cosplay?”

“I believe I did.” Dale wriggled his eyebrows, raking his gaze down Greg’s chest. “Perhaps we’ll do the bodily inspection another day.”

“I had no idea you were into spandex,” Greg said, smirking.

“It’s a delicious tease.”

Dale leaned over his son, tipping his face up to his bondmate’s. Greg closed the remaining distance, kissing him softly. Then he caught Dale’s hand, kissing his wrist, where he’d left his bonding mark so many years ago. Dale shivered.

Greg smiled down at Phil. “Do you need any more proof that he loves you?”

Dale followed his gaze. Asleep, Phil looked angelic, his cheeks rosy, his hair a mess on his head, just like Greg’s. Dale could believe Phil would want to hit someone for offending his dad. “He’s just like you.”

“And like me, he loves you,” Greg said. He kissed Dale’s bonding mark again, tracing his own wrist over Dale’s scent gland, up his forearm to his shoulder. Then he touched his wrist to Phil’s cheeks, too, to mark him. Mine.

“I believe you,” Dale said, smiling. He was with his family, and both Greg and Phil wanted him around. “I love you both.”

“Love you both too,” Greg said, his eyes warm.

He kissed Dale, and Dale relaxed against him, at peace with the world.