Page 111 of Glitterati Omega

“I followed Winnie up,” Rupert said, then sobered a little. “I’m laughing because, well, I didn’t expect this from you, of all people.” He waved again, indicating the fairy-tale princess ballgown Perce had elected to don on his wedding day.

The other omega looked away, cheeks even redder under his blush. “Yeah, well.”

Rupert took a step closer and, when Perce did not in fact murder him, he pinched the sides of the dress, grabbed the offending zipper, and yanked it up. Perce let out a startled gasp—evidently hadn’t had the bodice tailored correctly, Rupert thought dryly—and then stumbled away from him.

The room was silent for about ten seconds, before Rupert said, “Typically, you say thank you after someone does you a favor.”

Perce glowered at him. “You still haven’t explained why the hell you’re in here.”

“Yes, I did,” Rupert said, and Winston took a step closer to him. Perce’s brows knitted, his gaze flicking up and down Rupert.

Then something seemed to click into place in his brain. “Oh my God, Winston,” he spat, “what the hell were you thinking?!”

Rupert turned to glare at Winston. “You didn’t tell him?!”

Winston’s eyes were comically wide. “I suppose I had forgotten,” he said.

“I thought he was your best friend!”

“I thought I was your best friend!”

The two of them turned to glower at each other again. Perce shook his head, like he was ridding it of cobwebs. He glanced at Rupert again. “Go home,” he said curtly. “I don’t want you ruining my wedding.”

Rupert’s mouth went slack. “Excuse you—”

Perce gestured wildly at him. “You’re going to pop! Do you really want to bethatomega, the one every single guest at my wedding talks about for years—remember that guy who—”

Morgan laid a hand on their brother’s shoulder. “I really don’t think he’s in any danger of premature labor.” They glanced up, tapping their chin. “Although …”

“Wait,” Perce said. “You knew?”

Morgan came back to earth, blinking at him. “Oh. Yeah,” they said finally. “I did theivfprocedure.”

“What the fuck!” Perce snapped. “My best friend and my own sibling can’t be bothered to tell me that said best friend is going to be a father?!”

“To be fair,” Morgan said, “it seemed like the kind of personal detail you don’t give a shit about.”

Perce stared at his dark-haired sibling. “I am very invested in this,” he ground out, stalking to one of the tables to pick up a pair of earrings, which he fastened with practiced ease. “Do you know how much I can save on babysitting if I can just offload Jake’s spawn on Uncle Winston for a playdate with their cousins?”

“Oh my God,” Morgan half-whispered, and Winston screwed his eyes shut.

“That works both ways,” Rupert huffed. “If you get to offload your ‘spawn’ on us, then I’m allowed to leave mine on your doorstep every now and then.” Not that he would. Ever.

Perce glanced at him. “I forgot you’re the other half of the equation,” he muttered.

“How?! How could you forget?!” Morgan cried, pointing at Rupert.

Perce muttered something incoherent, then glanced at his watch. He glared at Winston. “This conversation is not over,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “But we are going to be late.”

,

Rupert perched on a chair beside Jake’s side of the family: his two mothers, his two sisters, their spouses, their children. Of course he ended up sitting there; Jake’s mother Liz was a designer after all, and she knew exactly who Rupert was wearing the second he entered the room (even if the gown was from a few seasons back because he’d acquired it secondhand—something he’d never done before). It hadn’t taken long for her to figure out who Rupert was after that. It only took him a few minutes of jovial, spirited conversation to realize that perhaps he’d misjudged Jake’s suggestion that they meet—Liz was less interested in getting her name out there than learning about his own wardrobe, his connections to up-and-coming individuals in the industry. She was looking for someone to mentor, she said. And she was keenly interested in his ideas about the omega shelter and its designer-label donation program, the idea about donating designer ballgowns and such for special events. She added on: what if they considered durability, not just fashion? What about paying seamstresses living wages, ensuring sustainable fabrics were used?

Rupert almost forgot he was at a wedding. He was excited about the discussion, the ideas—about everything, like he hadn’t been in a long time.

They would have went on chattering, but Deb, Jake’s other mother, shushed them, and then there was music. Rupert curled in on himself a little, turning his head to see the aisle. Morgan made their way down the aisle with one of the alpha’s groomsfolk; they looked dapper for once in their navy blazer and fitted slacks. Those purple Doc Martens were nowhere to be found, thank heavens.

Another wedding party pair floated down the aisle, followed by Winston, who was arm in arm with Perce. Rupert blinked a bit; he hadn’t expected Perce was so close with Winston as to choose the alpha to walk him down the aisle.