It wasn't uncommon for alphas to get together, form pairs, and live with one another. But it wasn't well spoken about, many considering it taboo by societal standards, and sometimes John finds himself wishing you were an omega. It'd make both of your lives much easier with one of you being the domestic, nesting type, and make marking easy work. And maybe then his instincts would stop responding to yours, his aggression rising being around another alpha so closely.

On particularly bad days you two would bicker, and those bickers would turn into arguments and less rarely fights. Both of you were so goddamned stubborn and headstrong and both of you were never ready to admit fault, your instincts feeding into one another and making it all worse. Like right now, with John nursing his second cigar out on the porch, his face pulled taut. The argument hangs heavy between you two, and John's eyes squint when you walk out onto the porch next to him.

"If you're here to yell at me more, don't bother." He rumbles, his Liverpudlian accent heavier with his frustration. "You're free to leave if y'hate being with me that much."