#I did go look on AO3 but most of it appears to be mpreg instead of trans or gb. which is fine? but not what I'm looking for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madlori · 5 years

Text

Unveiled - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2600 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Shockingly, there is no sex in this one. But lots of gooshy feelings.

Read it on AO3

Zhenya was in the stable, brushing Admiral and brooding, when Sidney came bounding in. “Hey!” Sidney said, beaming a wide smile at him.

“Well, where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you for...four days!” he said, mentally counting back to the day before the pregnancy announcement, when he’d last seen Sidney.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. Maybe you’ve heard that His Highness is pregnant.”

“I might have heard a rumor going around about that, yeah.” He left Admiral’s stall and went into Lady Esther’s, where Sidney was giving her apple slices. “Is he all right? I haven’t actually seen him myself in a few days.”

Hence his brooding mood today. He’d woken up alone the morning after their blindfolded encounter, his consort having risen early and left him. He hadn’t thought much of it (his husband was a notoriously early riser, which he definitely was not), but after not seeing him all day he didn’t get a knock on his door. The next day had been the same, and now this was the third day. He was starting to worry that the intensity of that celebratory sex had spooked his husband. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been spooked a little himself. He couldn’t help but think that they’d crossed a line past what was appropriate for embargoed spouses, even if they’d kept to the letter of the law.

“There’s been a lot going on. He has to get fitted for all these special custom unveiling clothes, and then for the ball, and then his royal stuff, jewels and crowns and things he’ll have to wear after the unveiling. Plus the doctor is all up in his business constantly, and...well, he’s been feeling a little...not great.”

Zhenya straightened up. “He’s unwell?”

Sidney shrugged. “Nothing serious. Tired, upset stomach. That’s pretty normal for a pregnant person, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should send him a message. I don’t want him to think I’m just skipping blithely through the day without a thought to his welfare.”

“He doesn’t think that, I’m sure. Anyway he seemed much better this morning.”

“Just in time. He has his first official event tonight.”

“Yep. No offense, but I’m glad I don’t have to go.”

“Oh, you’re not guarding him?”

“No, there’ll just be two guards. Probably Letang and Patty.” He picked up Lady Esther’s saddle. “Are we riding?”

Zhenya started to say “yes,” but the word stuck in his throat. “I can’t.”

“Oh,” Sidney said, looking a little disappointed. “Other plans?”

“I’m...I just…” He sighed, then plunged ahead. “I should be dedicating my attention to my spouse, even if my time with him is limited. He’s carrying my child. I shouldn’t be...gallivanting around with another man.”

Sidney blinked at him. “Is that what we’ve been doing? Gallivanting?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I thought we were friends.” Now he just looked sad.

“Are we?” Zhenya said, quietly. They locked eyes, and he saw that Sidney knew exactly what he meant. “My first loyalty must be to him. And I’d have thought that yours would be, too.”

Sidney’s face did something he couldn’t quite parse. He turned his back and put Lady Esther’s saddle back on its peg. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness,” he said, subdued.

He walked past Zhenya towards the door, but as he drew even with him, Zhenya’s hand shot out and caught his sleeve. He’d barely been aware that he was going to do that. “It’s my fault,” he said, quietly. “Don’t think it’s because I don’t…” He couldn’t finish.

Sidney looked up at him, resignation in his eyes. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on here, Zhenya.” He pulled away and strode off across the lawn.

Zhenya frowned. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

---------

Even though he would not be officially introduced to the kingdom until his unveiling, now that the consort had conceived, he could be included in certain private state functions in a very limited capacity. One such occasion was this evening, a dinner honoring their chief jurist, who was retiring after a long and distinguished career. The King would be presenting him with a medal of meritorious service, and colleagues and friends would give speeches praising his achievements and character. The consort could not attend the bulk of the event; if he did, the embargo would prohibit Zhenya from speaking for the entire evening. After the dinner and speeches, he would join Zhenya briefly and be introduced to the gathered nobles and officials by the King, spend a few minutes being bowed to and congratulated, and then be escorted out. It was a bit of a dog-and-pony show, but it was part of the long process of welcoming a new consort into the royal family. His pregnancy would not be publicly announced, but the mere fact that he was being introduced to society and an unveiling was being planned would be enough to clue everyone in that the Crown Prince’s consort was expecting.

Zhenya was restless during dinner and speeches, anticipating his consort’s arrival. He was feeling both eager to see him and anxious for everything to go well. All the Very Distinguished speakers seemed to drone on endlessly as the guests ate the delicate desserts and sipped rich, sweet wine. The jurist himself, bless his heart, gave a refreshingly brief acceptance speech, then knelt before the King to receive his medal. Zhenya stood at his father’s side and made a concerted effort to actually keep his mind on the task at hand; this man’s service deserved his full attention. The fact that the guests were meeting the consort tonight would not have been revealed to them, but the savvier ones might have guessed once they were ushered into a drawing room for cocktails after dinner, instead of being bid good-night.

Zhenya prowled around, distracted and impatient, until finally the door cracked open and Sasha beckoned him out. He excused himself and left the drawing room; Fleury was waiting for him in the hall. “His Highness is on his way. He apologizes for keeping you waiting.” Fleury glanced around, then leaned in and spoke quietly. “He’s been throwing up since this afternoon. If this appearance could be kept as brief as possible, we’d all be grateful.”

“Of course,” Zhenya said. “If we need to postpone it altogether…”

“No, no. He’s ready, he wants to do this. Just don’t keep him any longer than you need to.”

“Absolutely.” He turned to Sasha. “Tell my father that we’ll be keeping the greetings to fifteen minutes, maximum.”

“You want me to tell the King that?” Sasha said, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes. If he has a problem with that, tell him I’ll be glad to cancel the entire thing and allow my husband to rest while he’s gestating the future King or Queen of this country.”

Sasha gave him a sort of it’s your funeral look and went back into the drawing room.

Fleury had a finger in his ear, listening on his communicator. “They’re here.”

They both turned just in time to see the consort and two guards -- Letang and the burly blond one called Patty -- round the corner. Zhenya’s breath caught in his throat; even extensively veiled as he was, his consort looked stunning. The veils were gold and black, loose around his face and shoulders and then elaborately draped and fitted around his torso and hips so they suggested formalwear. They flowed loose down his upper arms and back, floating dramatically behind him. He wore a tailored suit underneath the veils.

Zhenya made no effort to mask his admiration as they approached. The consort nodded to him; Zhenya put a hand over his heart and bowed quickly. He extended his arm; the consort placed one gloved hand gently in the crook of his elbow. Zhenya observed that he was moving carefully; he must still be feeling queasy. Fleury went to the door and gave a quick knock to indicate that they were ready.

They moved to the doorway; from inside, Zhenya heard the sergeant-at-arms speak in his booming voice to get everyone’s attention. “My lords and ladies, friends and distinguished guests. His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen present His Royal Highness, Prince Evgeni, accompanying his husband, the Prince Consort.” Zhenya heard an excited murmur rise inside the room. The footmen threw open the double doors and Zhenya stepped inside, pride swelling in his chest as he walked forward with his consort on his arm.

They greeted Zhenya’s parents first, the consort bowing to them, and then the King joined them as they began to move through the crowd. To Zhenya’s relief, he was carefully selecting who would get the honor of a formal introduction to keep his poor husband from having to endure hours of meeting everyone in attendance. The sergeant-at-arms murmured each person’s name as they were presented. Most bowed to the consort, some kissed his gloved hand. The consort kept his other hand tight on Zhenya’s elbow; he was definitely holding himself rigidly upright.

“He seems tense,” his father whispered to Zhenya as they crossed the room to meet the guest of honor.

“He’s trying not to vomit, Father. Give him a break.” Zhenya whispered quietly near his father’s ear, conscious of the embargo against his mate hearing him.

“Poor fellow. Having a hard time of it, is he?”

“I understand it comes and goes. But he’s had a bad afternoon.” As if on cue, the consort swayed a little, free hand going to his stomach while the other clamped down on Zhenya’s arm. Zhenya decided they’d had enough. He shot his father a look, slipped his arm around the consort’s waist and steered him to the door.

“Please excuse my son,” the King said. “His consort has been -- unwell.” Absolutely everyone in attendance understood what was meant by that. Zhenya heard sympathetic whispers; a few comments of “be well” and “take care of yourself” followed them out.

Fleury was waiting right outside, holding a trash can just in case. As soon as the door shut behind them, the consort sagged against Zhenya’s chest with a sigh of relief. Zhenya wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back. Fleury held out the trash can; the consort shook his head, took a deep breath and straightened up. He nodded quickly in a clear “I’m ok” gesture. Zhenya lifted his eyebrow. Are you sure? The consort pulled off his black leather gloves and squeezed one of Zhenya’s hands, then lifted his hand to stroke Zhenya’s cheek. Zhenya plucked his husband’s hand off his face and pressed a kiss to his palm. The consort seemed to sway toward him a little, lingering, then withdrew his hand and turned to his guards. They took their places at his side and headed back down the corridor. Fleury started to follow but Zhenya held him back. “Is he all right? Please tell me the truth.”

“He will be. Surely you know this is common.”

“I didn’t think it started this early, he’s not even a month along.”

“It often starts earlier for men. Something about body fat percentage, I’ve heard.”

“Please tell him that if he needs help or comfort at night, he always has my permission to enter my room. He needn’t knock.”

Fleury nodded, smiling a little. “I’ll tell him. Thank you, sir.” He hurried to catch up with his charge, leaving Zhenya standing alone in the hallway, feeling useless.

The door eased open behind him; he turned to see Judge Amarov emerge. “Your Honor, you should stay at your party, all is well,” Zhenya said.

Amarov flapped a hand and made a “pshaw” noise. “Bunch of suck-ups. I’ve been tongue-bathed enough for one night. How are you, Zhenyenka?”

He nodded. “All right. Anxious.”

“It’s hard the first time. My wife carried our first and had a terrible time. I carried our second and it was a breeze, for which she’s never forgiven me. But, I do still have the recipe for the ginger toddy I used to make for her, which I’d be happy to share.”

Zhenya smiled. “I just wish I could tell him how much I...well.”

“The embargo is a hardship. I confess I don’t understand why we put our leaders through it. I can’t imagine how you all do it.”

“We’re brought up with it. It seems normal to me. I just didn’t expect...certain things.”

“Nothing is ever what we expect. I know the rules you must obey, but between you and me, Zhenya? If you break them when you are alone with him, nobody will ever know.”

“I would be prepared for that, but I don’t wish to disrespect him. He values the embargo rules, and so must I.”

“Then the fact that you honor his commitment tells him everything that you wish you could say.”

---------

That night, Zhenya was lying in bed reading, not expecting company. Even if his nausea had abated, his consort was likely to be tired and not in the mood for sex.

So he was surprised when the door to the Royal Bedchamber opened, tentatively. He sat up, putting his book aside. The consort poked his veiled head around the door, looking unsure of himself. Zhenya beckoned him into his bedroom; he seemed relieved and entered, shutting the door behind him. He was fully veiled but also dressed in sleeping clothes, loose pants and a t-shirt. He just stood there for a moment, fidgeting from foot to foot and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Zhenya scooted over a little and flipped the bedclothes back, holding out a hand to invite his husband to join him. The consort’s posture relaxed and he walked over to the bed, slipping between the sheets. They just looked at each other for a moment; Zhenya thought about what he might want, what he might need, if he were the one in this precarious physical state. He slid down in the bed and held out one arm. He heard his consort exhale and he stretched out close to him at once, snuggling against his chest and tucking his face into Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya wrapped his arms around his consort, sighing at how well they fit together, how natural it felt just to hold him. He gently stroked his hand up and down the consort’s back over his drapings, and within just a few moments, he felt the man’s breathing deepen and knew that he was asleep.

This became their routine. Zhenya grew accustomed to seeing the door open and his consort joining him in bed. Soon, Zhenya began to think of the bedroom as as theirs rather than his -- over the days that followed, his consort was often to be found there, reading or bathing or simply relaxing. Then, they’d climb into bed together and curl into each other’s arms. Zhenya didn’t initiate sex and neither did his consort, who often seemed tired.

The second morning of this new normal, Zhenya woke up to the sound of his consort retching piteously in the bathroom. He almost got up to help him, but thought better of it -- he’d have had to lift his veils to vomit, and he’d be furious if Zhenya barged in. All he could do was sit and listen as he flushed the toilet, rinsed his mouth and came back into the bedroom. He responded to Zhenya’s are you all right eyebrow-raise with a waggle of his hand. All right. He returned to bed and came straight into Zhenya’s arms again. Zhenya slid his hand down to rest on his belly, their child growing ever stronger beneath his hand; the consort covered the hand with his own and sighed into Zhenya’s neck.

Next Chapter

#unveiled #sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey rpf #unveiled chapters #my writing

58 notes · View notes

our-smooty · 4 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 8

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

“Was it something I said?” Newt asked as soon as Crowley had cleared the dining room. Everyone had gone quiet around the table, even the girls who had been previously chattering happily. Aziraphale shook his head with a small sigh. Though the paella still looked delicious, he’d lost his appetite.

“No, not really. How were you to know that he’s been so very… sensitive about the issue of our baby,” he said, hoping to assuage any guilt the young man might have.

“I thought something felt off when I mentioned it to him,” Anathema chimed in, looking only slightly less guilt than Newton

“I should have warned you he’s been a tad flighty, it’s my fault my dears.” Aziraphale waffled for a minute because he wasn’t sure how much Crowley would approve of him sharing. Probably nothing, but that didn’t seem like it was going to be possible in these circumstance. “Crowley wasn’t fully on board to, er, start a family initially. But then our situation improved, and he changed his mind only I’m not so sure we went about things the right way.”

Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished he’d insisted they talk about things more thoroughly before getting carried away. It wasn’t that he was doubting that Crowley wanted to have a baby with him, not really, but more that the demon was still harbouring some anxieties about what that actually meant. Even though God Herself had told them they would be safe, and their child fine, Crowley always had been full of questions and anxieties. Aziraphale had had a few moments of panic of his own, so he couldn’t imagine what kind of things Crowley was cooking up in his own mind.

“Crowley is very private. And for some reason he’s got it in his head that this whole matter is extremely personal. He won’t even talk to me about most things, I’m afraid,” he explained, trying the phrase things in a way that would cause the least amount of damage if Crowley were to overhear. “He’s been lying about the morning sickness and dizzy spells. He seems to think I don’t notice”

Anathema nodded along, still eating from her plate. Annabella and Charlotte had begun playing with their food more than eating it, though they remained reasonably quiet. “Doesn’t surprise me. It took him how many thousand years to confess he was madly in love with you?”

Aziraphale blushed. Over 6000 years, and at least 4000 of those he had also been aware of his feelings for the demon (more likely he’d felt that way from the beginning and not admitted it to himself until that first dinner they’d had--oysters at Patroneous’). They’d probably spoken more about their feelings in the past 10 years than the entire 6000. And even then they often left things unsaid out of pure habit. Perhaps that was exactly what Crowley was doing now, and really it was Aziraphale causing the problem by expecting something different.

“I thought he trusted me,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. Suddenly he realized that he was essentially complaining about his relationship issues much more than either human probably wanted to hear about. “Terribly sorry, forget I said anything. I’ll speak with him later, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Anathema raised an eyebrow, clearly not ready to let this die. Newt seemed to pick up on her energy and slowly began clearing the empty dishes away. The girls took this to mean they were excused and quickly scampered away to their bedrooms, eager to get back to their toys.

“Listen, Aziraphale. I’m not going to pretend to know half of what you two have going on,” Anathema started, her voice matter-of-fact, “and honestly I don’t have that much relationship advice to give, since I always knew I’d end up with Newt eventually from Anges’ book. But I do know you need to talk to each other. All the love in the world isn’t going to keep a relationship going if you don’t talk about things.”

This was the reason why Aziraphale loved humans. They could be so honest and willing to help, even when they didn’t have to be. “Thank you, my dear girl. You’re right of course, we’ve fallen into some very bad habits that are in need of addressing.”

Aziraphale stood to help Newt with the dishes, but he was waved off. “Why don’t you go see how he's doing out there? It’s been a while and we do have a dishwasher.” Aziraphale was doubtful of the machine's ability to stand up to Newton's general inability to use technology, but he was also grateful for the excuse to go check on Crowley.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again for making a bit of a scene. The food was delightful as always, Anathema,” he said. Anathema smiled and got up herself, most likely to check on the suspiciously quiet children.

Outside, the weather was much the same as it had been when they arrived--warm with just a hint of autumn chilliness in the air. The trees were all still green for the most part, though a few had started to yellow at the edges. Aziraphale was looking forward to the fall because that was when all of his favourite cafes started serving exciting flavours of coffee and cocoa. He shut the front door quietly behind him and made his way to the Bently, still sitting quietly in the driveway.

“Crowley?” he called. The tint on the windows made it impossible to see into the seats so he had to open the doors to check inside. It was empty, which was only a little surprising; Crowley was a restless being and Aziraphale had expected he would go for a walk instead of hanging around the car. There was nothing to be done for it then, and he would just have to wait until the demon came back of his own accord.

“I do hope he isn’t gone too long…” Aziraphale murmured to himself. In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to do one last check to make sure all the girl’s toys and sleepover items had been returned and weren’t hiding in the backseat or trunk. They didn’t want another incident where they got all the way home, only to discover a precious toy or favourite pair of shoes still tucked away. When he’d confirmed there was nothing in the backseat he popped the boot and went to check there.

“My word!” he gasped. Upon opening the boot he was greeted by several feet of black and red scales. “Crowley, what the devil are you doing in the car boot?”

Crowley’s body shifted, scales sliding against each other with a whisper-soft sound. Eventually, his head appeared to stare unblinkingly at Aziraphale. It was impossible for him to parse the snake’s facial expressions since there really weren’t any, and Aziraphale sighed again. It felt like he’d been doing that more than usual recently.

“Dearest,” he reached out to caress the space between Crowley’s eyes, “are you alright? I have to say finding you hear, like this, is a shock.” Crowley’s head swayed up and down and he bumped his snoot against the angel’s hand, asking for more pets. “Is shifting like this safe for the baby? Not that I don’t trust your judgement.”

Realizing that Crowley couldn’t speak in this form and that he didn’t seem to want to change back, Aziraphale switched gears. “One boop for yes, two for no?” Crowley nudged his nose against Aziraphale’s hand once.

“Very good love. Now, are you alright?” One boop. “And is this safe for the baby.” Another single boop, a little more hesitant this time. “I trust your judgement, Crowley. Do you mind if I stay with you, or do you want me to leave?” Crowley gave him a Look, probably because there was no way to answer that question with their current system. Aziraphale internally cursed; he was so bad at this.

“Do you need some more time to yourself? I won’t be mad if you do,” he said, running his hands along the reddish scales that framed the snake’s eyes. Crowley nosed his face into the touch but didn’t give an answer. “I promise I won’t be angry if you want to be alone for a bit Crowley.”

Instead of answering, Crowley drew back and unfurled himself, slithering out of the trunk into his regular human shape. Aziraphale took a step back to give him space to finish the transformation, busying himself with shutting the boot after all of Crowley’s tail had cleared it.

“I dunno,” Crowley said finally, staring down at the pavement. “You didn’t give me one for that.”

Another internal reprimand. “Apologies, I’ll remember to next time.”

“Can I get a hug?” Crowley asked quietly. He was shuffling his feet and generally looked miserable. Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to scoop him up in his arms.

“You needn’t ask, lovely.” Crowley felt small in his grasp, his height not making up for the fact he was skinny as a twig. “I think we need to have a little chat later though, don’t you?”

“'Bout what?” The question was muffled and a tad whiney. “Nothing to talk about, just fancied a nap.”

“Crowley we both know that isn’t true. I thought you might want to discuss it at home though, where you’d be more comfortable.” There was no answer of course. Aziraphale hadn’t expected this to be easy. Personally, this was incredibly uncomfortable already, but trying to muddle through for Crowley’s sake. This didn’t come naturally to him, all this talking about their feelings, not after 6000 years of hiding. It seemed to him that even though they'd spent the last 10 years together, they really hadn't made much progress.

Crowley stayed silent, burrowing his face deep into the threadbare fabric of Aziraphale’s coat. The angel hummed tunelessly and shifted them from side to side slowly and rhythmically. This, at least, was familiar. This quiet sort of comfort was what he did best, and was often what Crowley asked for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to get them any close to talking things through.

“Listen, I know that this whole situation is very strange and that you were uneasy with things from the get-go. I don’t blame you for feeling, unsure, about everything, I just want you to know that.” He was babbling, as he often did when he didn’t know exactly what to say. And as usual it seemed he’d stuck his foot in his mouth because Crowley tensed and pulled his head back, eyes hard and mouth grim.

“I’m not bloody unsure,” he snapped, ready for a fight. Aziraphale could see Crowley getting himself worked up, could see this going much the same as that night two months ago if he didn’t fix things. Only he wasn’t sure how to do that, without knowing what Crowley was thinking.

“Sorry, I--Crowley I just want to help! I-I want you to talk to me, so I can help you,” he pleaded, trying to push all his love and devotion and worry at the other. “Please, just talk to me.”

Crowley struggled in Aziraphale’s arms and wrenched himself free. “I don’t want your help! I don’t want you hovering, a-and fussing! I hate people making a big deal out of this!” He paced along the side of the Bently, his stride long and irate. “It was supposed to be no big deal, yeah? It’s not a big deal, humans do it all the time!”

Aziraphale watched him, afraid to say anything else since he’d messed things up so seriously once again. He felt like he was missing pieces, like he was on a completely different track at all times. If things kept up like this, he wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through.

“I don’t like being treated like an invalid Aziraphale. I hate their pity, and yours too. I just want everything to go back to normal.” Crowley was winding down. Sometimes that happened, he’d run out of steam and out of words and then pop off to his flat for a few days. Leaving Aziraphale to think over and over and over what he could have done better.

“Of course you’re not--I didn’t mean to suggest--I only worry. It’s hard to see you suffering especially when you won’t let me do anything about it and I--”

“I don’t want you to worry about me!” Crowley growled, back on the offensive. “I hate feeling like you--like anyone needs to watch out for me.” Hands wrapped around each other, strangling fingers as the twisted back and forth. “It’s the worst thing, you know. Making you worried about me.”

Trying very, very hard not to reach out and comfort Crowley, Aziraphale mirrored the wringing action of his hands. He couldn’t help it, really, the compulsion to reach out and touch and make things better. But if what Crowley was saying was true, then that was exactly the issue. “You not talking to me makes me worry more!”

Crowley physically recoiled, like Aziraphale had hit him. The angel watched as the carefully constructed walls and barriers behind Crowley’s eyes began to topple faster than he could rebuild them. “This’s stupid. We should have never--”

“Don’t say that!” Aziraphale shouted, his own emotions getting the better of him. “I-I can’t hear you say this was a mistake, that our baby was a mistake. It’ll break me, Crowley, please.”

“Fuck Aziraphale,” Crowley said, taking a sudden sharp breath, “I wasn’t--I don’t think it was a mistake! I was going to say we shouldn’t have come here, stayed for dinner. Do you really think I don’t--that I don’t want it?”

And once again, Aziraphale had stuck his foot in his mouth and jumped to conclusions. He’d made everything worse for Crowley and opened up another pit between them, all because he couldn’t bloody think things through. If one could discorporate from regret, Aziraphale would have been long gone.

“Well I… You seem so miserable, and you won’t talk to me. I just thought you might wish things hadn’t gotten so complicated.” Apologize, you idiot, he told himself. Another old habit he needed to break. “I’m sorry for assuming things. This’s why I wanted to--why we need to talk more.”

The few seconds of silence before Crowley answered felt like years. He took a shaky breath like he needed to and wasn’t just pretending at being a human. Sometime during the argument, his hands had come to wrap around his waist and hips, like he was shielding himself from the harsh words between them. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he’d wanted to wait until they were home and they could sit down amongst their things and talk about this civilly. They could have even ordered in, gotten out some of the fresh fruit juice Aziraphale had taken to stocking up on, and made an evening of it. An evening that they could have remembered fondly, the point where they finally bloody talked instead of bumbling through things.

“I wanna go home,” Crowley said in response, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll be in the car, say bye for me yeah?” He was quick to turn around and climb into the drivers seat, slamming the door behind him (though not too hard, ever since it burned Crowley had be extra careful with the Bently). Aziraphale, frozen by the sudden dismissal, could do nothing but watch.

It took him a few seconds to get moving. When he did it was almost automatic. He went up to the door, inside the house, and thanked Anathema and Newt for dinner. Said goodbye to the girls and to Alfred, told them Crowley said goodbye too, all with his usual smile. Aziraphale assured everyone that he and Crowley were fine, and that the demon had begun to feel unwell again so they’d better be off.

All of those goodbyes took much less time than usual, and he used the excuse of Crowley’s discomfort as a crutch to speed them along even further. In total it only took 15 minutes before he was back outside, standing at the passenger side door of the Bently. He didn’t even think of trying the driver's side. No matter how upset Crowley was, he wouldn’t let someone else drive his car. So Aziraphale waited a moment, until the Bently rumbled to life, then opened the door.

Normally Crowley would rib him about taking so long to say goodbye, but not this time. They were both silent as he entered the car. It made Aziraphale extremely nervous, so much so he began to toy with the fraying edges of his waistcoat, endangering their structural integrity. Of course, he could miracle it back into perfect condition, but then it wouldn’t exactly be the same jacket he’d bought over 150 years ago. So halfway through the drive, he had to force his hands to be still by tucking them between his thighs.

Crowley’s face as impassive as he drove. Aziraphale tried not to glance over too much, but he couldn’t help it. Was Crowley angry? Was he upset? When they got home, what was going to happen? Aziraphale’s heart was pounding with anxiety by the time they pulled into the cottage drive, his entire being vibrating with it. Crowley still looked about the same.

“S-so,” Aziraphale started. He was about to begin babbling, all the words he’d kept inside for the past few hours were going to come out in a big messy puddle and probably make things worse. But he couldn’t--he didn’t know how to do this. “I, ah, what I mean to say is--”

“M’tired,” Crowley mumbled, hands still poised on the steering wheel. “And I’m feeling a little, uh, my stomach’s all twisted, like a spring and I don’t wanna be sick all over the Bently so if we could go inside…”

“Of course! Let me--I mean, I’ll get the door and then make us a cuppa?” Much to his relief Crowley nodded and finally, finally looked over at him.

“Did Book Girl give you that tea she was talking about?” Aziraphale was surprised, enough so that he didn’t say anything about the nickname.

“She did, would you like to try some? It smells of peppermint to me.” He hadn’t expected Crowley to want to have anything to do with the things Anathema had given them, nevermind ask about them so soon. But that was good, wasn’t it? Unless he was feeling so awful he was willing to try anything, which in that case Aziraphale felt worse for not noticing.

“Yeah, and some crackers maybe? If you don’t mind,” Crowley added, fidgeting restlessly. “We could, well you could read but I might watch some telly?”

“Sounds lovely dear, I’ll put the kettle on.” He wanted to ask if Crowley needed help getting out of the car, but he had enough sense to know that would probably start another argument. So instead he gave Crowley’s shoulder a squeeze, then got out of the car to go do as he’d been asked. At the very least it gave him something to do, opening the front door with his key the human way, bustling about the kitchen to prepare the tea, spreading the crackers and a few slices of apple with cheese from the garden around a plate. He could hear Crowley come in not long after him and settle down in their living room, followed shortly by the intro to Great British Bake Off.

“Here we are!” Aziraphale announced, balancing two cups of tea and the plate of nibbles as he hurried to the sofa. One cup found its home in front of Crowley, who was staring resolutely at the telly, and the other stayed with Aziraphale. The plate he put between them so they could both enjoy the snacks. Crowley mumbled his thanks and sniffed cautiously at the drink, but he took a sip and didn’t wince, so Aziraphale hoped it was alright.

Again silence settled over them. It wasn’t the companionable silence they often shared while having a snack and enjoying each other's company in the late afternoon. It was a silence of absence, of things left unsaid. It was as bad as in the car.

“Thanks,” Crowley said suddenly, much more clearly this time. “For the tea and the crackers. They help, sort of.”

“Happy to hear it. I don’t mind, you know. Whatever you want I’ll bring it to you,” Aziraphale assured him with a soft smile. The desire to move the plate and scoop the other up and hold him tight. “I’ll wait until you ask though, if that makes it better? I guess I do--I have been hovering something dreadful.”

“You have,” Crowley agreed, taking the tiniest nibble of apple, grimacing and setting it back down. “I could’ve been a bit better about saying something though, I guess. I just, you know what it’s like, down there. I’m not used to… this. Needing help.”

This time Aziraphale did move the plate and shuffle over so he was close enough to lean against Crowley’s side. Crowley leaned into him too and it made the tight coil in Aziraphale’s chest relax slightly.

“I’m not used to playing things by ear. I may have gotten a little swept up in everything and gone overboard with my attentions. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, but I need you to tell me these things Crowley. I’m not a mind reader.”

Crowley sighed and put his empty teacup down before snuggling into Aziraphale’s side even more. The angel lifted his arm so Crowley could tuck his head into his shoulder. “You could if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

“What, read your mind? I would never invade your privacy like that!” Aziraphale exclaimed. The idea was off-putting, using his Angelic influence on Crowley in that way.

“You’re too good for me angel,” Crowley replied with a hollow chuckle. “I’ll uh, try to say something next time.”

“And I’ll try to hover less. But Crowley?” Crowley made a noise to indicate he was listening, but Aziraphale hesitated. He wanted to tell Crowley that the demon deserved good things, that he deserved to be treated kindly. But that was probably too much for the current moment, so he held his tongue. Instead, he said, “You know I love you, right?”

Crowley cuddled closer. He always did, his snakish instinct to get closer to Aziraphale’s heat often overriding his unconscious mind. “Yeah. Love you too angel.”

The silence that followed was much warmer and more comfortable than the previous ones. Much more like their usual dichotomy. Aziraphale leaned forward a little bit to snag another cracker, which he pressed to Crowley’s lips.

“A few more, then I maybe I can read to you? Or you can watch your shows while I read by myself.” This newly found peace after such a stressful afternoon was tentative, and Aziraphale was worried about breaking it by being overbearing again.

Crowley, however, just hummed in agreement and took the cracker. Between dainty nibbles he asked, “Can we finish this episode, then maybe you can read something? This is the one with the durian and it’s hilarious. Unless you want to do something else, that’s fine.”

Would they spend the next however long Crowley was going to be pregnant walking on eggshells? What about after the baby came? “No, no, that sounds good to me love. As I said, all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything.”

“‘Kay,” Crowley answered, holding his hand out for another cracker, which Aziraphale immediately provided. They’d have to go out to the shops and stock up on some more at this rate. Maybe he could find a bakery nearby that made some fresh that Crowley might like better than the dry store-bought ones. “Can you get rid of the apples? They uh, they’re making me feel sick.”

In a blink the apples and the cheese (just to be safe) were gone and only the crackers remained. Crowley leaned up and placed a messy kiss on Aziraphale’s jawline in thanks, then turned back to his show. Aziraphale gave him a little squeeze around the shoulders, then settled in with the book he kept on the side table for moments like these. Things were comfortable again, and they’d talked a little. More progress could be made tomorrow, or the next day. After all, there wasn’t really any rush.

#fanfic #fbafs #good omens #gomens #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #mpreg #tw mpreg

1 note · View note

farmhandler · 5 years

Text

In Your Veins

Rating: E

Relationship: Shiro/Sendak

Additional Tags: Werewolf AU, Mpreg

Chapter: 1/3 | WC 3.7K

Read on AO3

Summary: Any sane person would see what danger messing around with another alpha—let alone an alpha without a pack—could bring, and they would stop upon realizing this.

Shiro does not stop seeing Sendak.

It’s Sendak’s fault, really. He's the one to visit the grounds where he knows Shiro will be running patrol, and he’s the one that brings him a casserole, of all things.

A/N: This is the sequel to In Your Nature, so please read that if you haven’t! Otherwise, enjoy this self indulgent piece!!

Talking to his pack goes about as well as Shiro expects.

First and foremost, they’re concerned about him. Allura nearly throws a fit when she first smells Shiro, assuming he is the alpha, but once they see his disheveled appearance, it clicks into place.

They think he got into a fight with the alpha, which he doesn’t necessary try to dissuade them of. It’s more convenient than the truth, and Shiro doesn’t technically admit to anything that could be construed as a lie.

“I’m fine,” he keeps saying. He exposes his throat to Keith, who shoves himself into Shiro’s space and starts scenting him, one of the first to do so for their pack scenting session. Thanks to his positioning, there isn’t a lot of room. His legs are hanging over Hunk’s on one of the comfier couches, and Lance in lying in his lap. Behind him, Allura is sitting on top of the couch, leaning against the wall, with Shiro lying in between her legs. She’s carding her fingers through his hair slowly.

She’s been silent for most of the exchange, which make Shiro nervous.

“Hey!” Lance calls, pushing at Keith with his hand. “Move your leg! You’re crushing me.”

“Then give me more space,” Keith replies evenly, but he removes regardless and settles more comfortably at Shiro’s side.

Not a lot of talking happens. They’re eager to rub Shiro in all their scents until he’s ceased smelling like the alpha, and the entire time Shiro keeps wishing he could somehow have both. His pack makes him happy, but the alpha…

He shudders.

“Cold?” Pidge asks. She’s just come back from fetching one of their communal blankets, and Shiro nods, just to be safe. As she lays the blanket across his body (covering Lance in the process), he thinks about the blanket lying in the back of his closet.

Any sane person would see what danger messing around with another alpha—let alone an alpha without a pack—could bring, and they would stop upon realizing this.

Shiro does not stop seeing Sendak.

It’s Sendak’s fault, really. He's the one to visit the grounds where he knows Shiro will be running patrol, and he’s the one that brings him a casserole, of all things.

It’s so out of character that Shiro immediately forgets whatever he was planning on saying and stares at the container in his hands. It’s covered with aluminum foil.

“What is that?” Shiro asks.

“A casserole.”

“What kind is it?”

“Cauliflower rice, vegetables, and cheese.”

“You made me a healthy casserole?” Shiro takes it out of his hands when he offers it, and he’s surprised to find it’s still warm. “You just made this?”

Sendak says nothing, staring Shiro down.

“You know if you’re trying to court me, you have to speak to me,” Shiro teases. He lifts the foil and peeks inside; it smells good. Shiro’s wolf loves raw meat and all its products, but Shiro himself is a big fan of vegetables. He works out; he likes to keep healthy. “Wow. That smells delicious. Where did you make this?”

“In my apartment,” Sendak replies. He smirks at Shiro’s look. “What, did you assume I had no home?”

For some reason, yes. He doesn’t say that, though.

“No, of course not! I just…didn’t think about it. You’re kind of an enigma around here.”

“You can see it for yourself,” he says smoothly. It’s as good an invitation as any, and Shiro hesitates, but only just.

“Soon,” he says, instead of never, because he knows himself too well.

Over the next for weeks, Shiro starts visiting Sendak.

He does it sparingly, to where it appears to his own pack that the scent is lingering, or Sendak has shown his face. Each time Shiro finds some workaround to lie; after all, it’s not like he can tell that he’s seeing another alpha. They wouldn’t understand. Hell, Shiro hardly understands what draws him to Sendak.

Maybe it’s the fact that he was interested in Shiro at all. Maybe it’s because he’s an alpha.

The visits start out short—just a quick moment here and there, and then they get longer.

The times that they do see each other, they have a lot of sex.

For all that he appears to be the stereotypical aggressive pack alpha, Sendak is a considerate lover. He always makes sure that Shiro comes first, and even though he likes having Shiro presented on his hands and knees, he never forces him into a position he doesn’t like.

“Fuck,” Shiro pants, his legs trembling as he uses Sendak’s shoulders to pull himself up and off his cock again. He’s been riding Sendak for thirty minutes now. It’s a record as far as their sex usually goes—neither of them are good at restraining themselves—and it’s happening because Sendak challenged him to make himself come on his cock alone. Shiro liked the idea, even if in practice it isn’t that easy.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Shiro manages, his breath sliding into a long groan as he seats himself on Sendak’s cock again. His own dick is flushed painfully red, and the underside is slick with precome. “Oh my god, my legs are so sore. And I’m so close.”

“You can do it,” Sendak says, laying his hands on Shiro’s hips. “A little more and you’ll surely come.”

He’s been holding onto him on and off, teasing Shiro with the scrape of a claw on his ass or his thighs, leaving tingling sensations behind. When Shiro lowers himself again with a low, plaintive groan, Sendak leans forward, takes his nipple into his mouth, and sucks.

“Oh my god oh my god.” Shiro shudders, twitching. “That feels—so fucking good.” He works himself on Sendak’s cock, trying to chase the arousal while its building. His voice shoots up an octave as Sendak rolls his tongue over his nipple, tugging on it with his teeth, and then his big hands are back on Shiro’s ass, helping yank him down on his cock.

It does a lot more for Shiro’s imminent orgasm than anything he was trying before. He loves when Sendak manhandles him, and he barely makes it another minute before his voice breaks and he comes, his cock spurting weakly between them.

Shiro pants for a long time after, just trying to catch his breath. He leans his head on Sendak’s shoulder, murmuring a weak protest when Sendak fists his cock, making sure he’s been wrung out dry.

“Can’t believe I did it,” he says wearily.” I can never manage that on my own.”

“I am going to pleasure myself now,” Sendak says, releasing his cock. He smooths his palm over Shiro’s hip. “You may remain as you are.”

What he means is ‘I’m going to use you to get off, so don’t worry about doing any more work’.

Shiro wraps his arms around his neck and closes his eyes, enjoying the way Sendak starts fucking him; the position doesn’t lend itself to doing it well, but he manages short, sharp thrusts of his cock, growling in Shiro’s ear until he finally comes with a few harsh grunts.

Shiro hums, shifting a little as Sendak comes inside him. They started with condoms, but since neither of them can contract STDS, they stopped bothering pretty quickly.

“I need to go soon,” Shiro says, once Sendak’s breathing has evened out. “I told them I was going to the grocery store. I’ll say I met you there.”

“You should stay,” Sendak rumbles. He noses Shiro’s throat. “Build out a nest here. With me.”

Shiro sighs. “I can’t. I kept the blanket, but I shouldn’t have even done that. I shouldn’t really be doing any of this. Allura has a right to be angry with me for defying the pack.”

“It’s not as if I have a pack,” Sendak points out. “Why should it matter?”

“How have you survived this long without a pack? Where are you from?”

Sendak blinks at him, hesitating long enough that Shiro assumes there must be a story.

“I had a pack, once,” he says. “When I was young.”

“Galra?”

“Of course.”

It’s hardly an answer.

“Then why did you leave?” Shiro presses.

Sendak is silent for a long time before he answers.

“At the time I did not know I was an alpha. I was convinced to leave my pack to join another by a man named Zarkon. When I arrived, I was rejected upon my arrival. I have been alone since.”

He shrugs. Shiro frowns, reaching up to cup the side of his face.

“You were alone for that long?”

“A pack is not necessary,” Sendak says, so easily that Shiro expects he’s repeated it to himself dozens of times. “When I saw you, I made my decision not for the good of a ‘pack’ but because it was what I wanted.”

Shiro has words in response, but he holds back, instead gingerly rising from Sendak’s lap, grimacing when he feels come start to trickle down his leg.

“Well, I’d better go. I’ll see you sometime later, but it might be a while. We’re going hunting later—stretching our wolf legs and all that. There are some hunting grounds in the next state over that are safe for us.”

“You have quite a large network,” Sendak observes.

“The Alteans have a lot of packs across the midwest and up the East coast. Allura is the daughter of one of the oldest packs, so she has a lot of sway.”

“She’s rather small for an alpha.”

“Hey.” Shiro smacks Sendak’s shoulder. His ears flick and twitch, and Shiro has to remind himself that he’s not some alien what with how odd he looks. Galra wolves are weird. “Be nice. That’s my alpha.”

“I am your alpha,” Sendak says, completely serious. Shiro smiles.

“Nice try, buddy. I’ve really gotta go.” He drops a kiss to his forehead and then starts reaching for his clothes, letting the matter drop.

Shiro forgot how much he missed hunting.

For wolves, going out and letting loose on occasion is necessary to keep the pack healthy and happy. They live in a large house with a few dozen acres of land, but it’s not the same as running through the wilds with his pack at his side and his alpha in the lead. The pack hosting them is one of Coran’s relations, but they know Allura well. This is only Shiro’s second time hunting with them.

They don’t waste time talking, and the hunt begins quickly. They all strip, set their clothes aside, and then shift all at once.

Lance and Keith are the first to start playing. Lance is usually instigator, but Keith never fails to get drawn into Lance’s antics, so soon they’re snapping at each other, growling, and it isn’t long until the others try to follow along.

Allura’s growl quells then soon enough, and then once they’re all gathered, they take off, running through the forest, following the scents that will lead them to fresh kill.

It starts out strong.

They’re following Allura, keeping track of some trails, and closing in on the kill when Shiro suddenly starts to feel unwell.

He’s in the middle of inspecting a spot of land when dizziness hits him hard. He stumbles a little, but he doesn’t stop, pushing through it. He assumes that it’s a one-off; that he’ll feel better with some time.

He doesn’t feel better. The dizziness gets worse, and then his stomach cramps, and then all he can do is stop and sit down, whining so his team will hear him. Shiro doesn’t shift, because he would be naked, and it’s below freezing out. The pack cabin is miles away.

Within seconds, his pack returns to him, gathering around his prone figure.

Allura noses at the side of his head, and Shiro opens up to her, allowing her to chuff at his neck and shoulders. Eventually, her head bobs and then she shakes it, which is code for ‘I can’t find anything wrong with you.’

Shiro whines again. He feels nauseous, and leans his head on his paws to ride it out.

The other paladins share blank looks. Keith walks over to Shiro and sits next to him, leaning into his side. Pidge follows suit, and then Hunk, and Lance, and soon the entirety of his tiny pack is huddled up against him, providing him with warmth and comfort.

While he lies there, waiting until he feels well enough to move, he thinks about Sendak, and misses him with such desperation that he barely resists howling into the wind, as if Sendak will come at his call.

“I’m…what?”

Finding out he’s pregnant isn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him. Finding out it’s possible for him to get pregnant isn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him.

Finding out he’s pregnant in front of both packs is.

They brought Shiro to the cabin and called on the nearest shifter friendly doctor that ended up being an older woman named Rosie. She took one sniff of Shiro, felt around his stomach while he stayed shifted, and then informed him far too casually that he was carrying a litter.

Shiro is pale and speechless on the counter. His fingers are digging divots in the jeans they gave him.

“Well, this is quite…” Coran coughs gently. He looks just as pale. “It’s not unheard of for wolves, as you know, particularly ones turned like Shiro had been. That would explain the, um, dizziness and the cramping. The shift isn’t easy on the body, let alone one…pregnant.”

“That’s not possible,” Shiro says weakly, knowing it’s a lie as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

Allura is staring at him silently. Keith’s lips are thin, his expression flat. Pidge looks both amazed and flabbergasted.

“I didn’t…” Shiro trails off, wringing his hands in his lap. I didn’t know this would happen.

His mind is blank, save for a roaring sound that seems to get louder every second.

“You didn’t know?” Rosie says. She sounds sympathetic. “Who here is the father?”

Shiro swallows. He doesn’t say anything. Half the people in the room know who it is.

“It doesn’t matter,” Allura cuts in after a moment. “We need to get Shiro home.” She turns to the other pack leader standing there, who’s staring at the different members of their pack with suspicion. “We thank you so much for your hospitality the brief time we were here. I’ll let you know when we’ve made it home safe.”

No one says anything on the way out.

Shiro suffers through the silence they treat him with most of the way home, focusing on the coiling nausea in his gut. He can’t tell if it’s from the pups or his unease. Maybe it’s both.

Pups. He’s carrying Sendak’s pups. Something hot and needy fills his chest, and his next breath comes out shaky.

They’re entering the city limits when someone finally speaks up. It’s Lance, and Shiro is shocked by the soft worry etched onto his face.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re pretty pale.”

“Feeling a little motion sick, I think is all,” Shiro croaks. He can’t make himself look at anyone else, but he can sense Allura’s stare. “Allura, I—”

“It’s quite all right,” Allura interrupts. She sounds weary. “I am not blind, Shiro. I am angry that you let the lie go on for this long, but I knew you were seeing the alpha.”

“You did?!” Keith snaps. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Shiro feels his face drain of color. “You knew?”

“I did not for a second believe that you had simply met this alpha ‘on occasion’ smelling like you did. Nor did I believe he would give up that easily. He seemed taken with you.” She glances over. “And you with him.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to think about that, so he tries not to. Thankfully, Allura lets the matter drop, and they fade back into uncomfortable silence.

A few minutes later, they’re back at the castle. Shiro steps out of the car on unsteadily legs and thinks about vomiting; instead, he takes a breath and looks for Keith, finding him marching towards the house, fury written in every step.

“Keith!” Shiro calls, jogging after him. It’s the wrong move: a few paces in and he falters, his stomach roiling against the sudden movement. And because Keith never could deny Shiro when he was hurting, he stops, then turns and walks back, his fury softening at Shiro’s pain.

“Shiro,” he starts once he’s close. He lifts Shiro gently, helping him stand so they can start walking. The other paladins stay behind, probably giving them time to talk. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. “I didn’t want you all knowing and kicking me out of the pack. He’s an alpha. He doesn’t want a pack. I’m directly disobeying Allura by doing so.”

“Kicking you out…?” Keith frowns, apparently ignoring the part where he said he was defying Allura. “Allura would never do that.”

“She might now,” he whispers.

“No, now she definitely won’t. And even if she tried, I wouldn’t let her.”

Shiro chuckles at that. Give it to Keith to say that after everything. “But aren’t you also angry with me?”

“I’m fucking pissed. But you’re pack, Shiro. I love you. I would never want you to leave, even because of this.” After opening the door and bracing his back against it, he looks at Shiro. “Unless that’s what you wanted.”

“No,” Shiro says immediately. “I wouldn’t leave. But I…I like Sendak.”

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah. It’s a—a Galra thing.”

“Huh. And you like him?” he asks tentatively. “Enough to leave?”

“No, not to leave. I wouldn’t. I love you guys. I just…” Shiro sighs. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have accepted the casserole. That’s where this all started.”

“He made you a casserole?” Keith asks, blinking.

“Yeah?” Shiro smiles. “He’s really sweet, actually.”

“Uh huh.” Keith’s eyes are wide and disbelieving when they get into the living room. He helps Shiro onto the couch, and although Shiro doesn’t need the help getting around—it’s just a bit of nausea—he doesn’t mind being close with Keith. He smiles up at him when Keith straightens, and he returns it before he leaves, claiming he’s going to get Shiro a drink and something to eat.

The rest of the pack filters into the room some time later with Allura at the lead. She stops in front of Shiro, her hand on her hips.

“We’re going to ask your alpha a few questions. Tonight.”

“Tonight? Tonight he’s working, and I don’t think he’s home—”

“Tonight,” she interrupts. “You’re going to call him.”

“I don’t…actually have his number,” Shiro admits sheepishly. Allura cocks her head, and after a moment her eyes light up with an idea.

Shiro looks back at Allura, unsure.

“Go on,” she says, her voice firm. “Do it. If he is truly invested in your wellbeing, he will come.”

Shiro positions himself some ways away from his pack, sitting back on his hindlegs. His belly feels queasy from the shift, but he was assured that until later into his term he wouldn’t need to restrict his shifting.

He still can’t believe he’s pregnant, but he’s trying not to think about that now. Instead, Shiro concentrates on putting as much heartache and need into his howl as he can. The call of one wolf to another is usually restricted to pack, but Allura theorizes that Sendak does consider him pack, for all his claims of independence. Shiro isn’t so sure.

He lifts his muzzle into the air. He hasn’t howled in years—not like this.

The low sound of his howl fills the air, awkwardly at first, and then with growing confidence. It sounds and feels lonely, tearing into his chest. He howls until his voice peters out and it fades away, and then he does it again, and again, howling for a wolf that he isn’t even sure will be able to hear it.

After the third howl, he glances back at his pack. Keith looks like he wants to go over and comfort him—they all do. Hunk is clinging to Lance, biting down on his lip. He hates hearing pack members in pain.

Shiro turns around, about to start up again, when he suddenly hears an answering howl.

Though calling it a howl is being generous.

It’s like a growl, deep and foreboding, but it’s loud, reverberating throughout the grounds in the way only an alpha’s howl can. A shudder rolls up Shiro’s spine, and he gets up on instinct, circling the spot he’s in.

Not even a moment later, Sendak’s giant wolf bounds out from between the trees, pausing for a split second to assess the situation before he sprints forward and inserts himself between Allura and Shiro.

Allura steps forward, still unshifted, and Sendak snarls. He backs up into Shiro, covering the length of his body.

Don’t, Shiro wants to say, but he’s a wolf, and he’s lost to the sight of Sendak defending him from his own pack, posturing even though there’s no way he could win.

He whines low in his throat and slides up to his side, trying to convince Sendak that everything is okay through touch alone.

For a moment Sendak stops; he lowers his head to Shiro and nuzzles him fiercely, spreading his scent where he can.

A gasp sounds from one of the paladins.

Paladins. His friends. Right: he’s doing this for a reason.

With effort, Shiro shifts back into a human. He spreads his arms across Sendak’s thick coat of fur and presses his face into it.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, ignoring the looks his pack is giving him. “We’re okay. I’m okay. We just needed to talk to you.”

Sendak slowly relaxes, and then he begins to shift, turning his body towards Shiro so that by the time he’s human, he’s still able to bring Shiro into his protective embrace.

“We?” is the first thing he says, eyes shifting suspiciously towards Allura.

“Sendak.” Allura steps forward, her expression grim. “It’s about time we met officially. Congratulations, you’ve knocked up one of my wolves.”

#shendak #voltron #shiro #mpreg #werewolf au #au: werewolves #this chapter is a bit rushed #but it'll even out i think #my fic #fic #voltron fic

27 notes · View notes

havenoffandoms · 6 years

Text

Heartbreak

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170854

Pairing: Destiel

Warnings: break-ups, implied mpreg, parent Destiel

Summary: When she was sixteen years old, Victoria Charlie Winchester experienced her first heartbreak.

When she was sixteen years old, Victoria Charlie Winchester experienced her first heartbreak. However, her parents, Dean and Castiel Winchester, did not know of this until the day after Victoria’s boyfriend had broken up with her, for she did not leave her bedroom all day, not even when Dean tried to lure her out with a still warm apple-pie that had just come out of the oven. Refusing food was highly unusual behaviour for Victoria, and that’s when Castiel decided to check on her. He went to knock on his daughter’s bedroom door, hoping he would get a reaction from her. Although Castiel could have easily appeared inside Victoria’s room, he would never abuse that power. Her bedroom was her private space, her sanctuary and her parents needed to respect that (although Dean had already threatened that if Castiel’s plan was unsuccessful, the door would be kicked in).

“Victoria, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Castiel had not expected an answer, so it was unsurprising that he was met with complete silence. It did not discourage the fallen angel.

“There’s a slice of pie for you in the kitchen still, but if you don’t hurry your dad will eat it instead… he’s had his eyes on it for the past hours”

Still, no answer. Castiel thought thoroughly about a way to get his daughter to talk to him and decided that honesty was probably the way to go. Anything to keep Dean from breaking into her room and upsetting her even more.

“Sweetheart, your dad and I are worried. You haven’t spoken to us or came out of your room since yesterday when you came back from school. You did not even come out to feed Lady Snowball, you usually like to personally take care of her. So, if there is any way that we can help, please Victoria let us know. We are always here for you”

Thinking about it, Lady Snowball has been strangely quiet since last night. Castiel waited a couple of seconds outside the door, hoping to hear his daughter move or speak, but to no avail. Sighing heavily, Castiel decided to try his luck later and as he turned around to brief Dean on the situation, he heard the lock of Victoria’s bedroom door click. Castiel stopped instantly and smiled knowingly to himself. Victoria was signalling that she needed someone to talk to without openly asking for it. She resembled Dean in that regard, not wanting to seem vulnerable and always wanting to appear strong to anyone around her. Castiel understood and knew how to deal with the situation. He had done so far too often in the past with his husband, and even long before they were together. Confidently, Castiel stepped inside his daughter’s bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“Afternoon”

Victoria lay on her hundred pillows, covered with a fluffy turquoise throw and wearing her cosy pyjamas. Her hair was in disarray and her laptop open next to her on the bed, paused on an episode of Jane the Virgin. Castiel noticed that Lady Snowball was purring on his daughter’s lap, which meant that Victoria must have snuck her in through the night for comfort and the fat Scottish fold seemed quite content with that arrangement. Castiel and Dean were convinced that this cat only liked Victoria. His daugher’s eyes were red and puffy and Castiel deducted that she had been crying (and thanked Chuck that Dean that not been the one to come talk to her, for he would have taken out the hunting gear and vowed to chase whoever hurt his little princess down).

“We were worried about you, sweetheart” Castiel said, getting straight to the point, “may I sit here?” Victoria nodded her approval and reassuringly pet Lady Snowball’s head when the cat hissed at her father. Castiel shot the animal a glare before sitting next to the upset teenager and putting an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Now, tell me what’s been troubling you” he asked softly, giving Victoria as much time as she needed to explain her recent attitude. Instead, the young girl handed her phone to Castiel after unlocking it.

“Read it”, she instructed. Castiel took the phone from her with, looking rather confused at the turn of events. His understanding of teenagers was that they did not, under any circumstance, want their parents to know what was going on in their personal lives and that included the conversations on their smartphones. Touched by the trust his daughter exhibited in him, Castiel began reading:

We need to talk…

About what?

Can I call you?

I’m at Joyce’s place right now. What’s up?

Look, I didn’t want to do this over text, but I just don’t think it’s fair that we carry on this way. It’s hurting the both of us. I know what I did, and it was wrong. and I know you said you forgave me, but I don’t think that it is totally true. And I hate that whenever I take my phone you give me this look of mistrust… I hurt you and I know I am still hurting you and that’s not what I want. So, I think it’s best for us to end things. I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and know that you were one of the best things that happened to me and anyone would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend.

Castiel’s heart sank in his chest. From what he gathered, Victoria had had problems in her relationship for a long time and had not even told them. Her boyfriend, Andrew, had broken up with her.

“He cheated on me with a girl from school a couple of months ago, and I forgave him. I should have ended then. It would have been painful, but I would have been the one to end it. I would have kept my pride. I would not be where we are now” Fresh tears welled up in Victoria’s eyes and streamed down her face. Lady Snowball meowed pitifully when she noticed her owner upset again and rubbed her whole body against Victoria’s cosy pyjamas.

“Why did you not come to us?” Victoria snickered humourlessly.

“And have dad tell me that I had to break up and that he would go kill Andrew? Please, I thought you’d understand…”

“I suppose you’re right”, Castiel conceded, “I understand why you didn’t tell your dad earlier, but why did you not come to me?”

“Because”, Victoria explained through her handkerchief she was using to blow her nose, “you would have told dad.” As simple as that. Castiel felt silly for not getting to that conclusion himself.

“I’m sorry that is how you feel, sweetheart. I’m sorry that is how we make you feel. But now that it’s out, if you need to talk just know that I am here, okay?” Victoria nodded and sniffled miserably. It would take another couple of weeks, maybe months to get over Andrew, but at least this time, Castiel and Dean would be there.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you make sure dad doesn’t freak out?” Castiel smiled and kissed his daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. I’ll talk to him” Castiel stood up, determined to talk to his husband but halted when he reached the doorway. He turned around and looked at Victoria with a small smile.

“You know, sweetheart, he was your first boyfriend. And even though he’s done things that are terrible I agree with something he says: anyone would be lucky to have you. And there will be someone else and you will learn to love someone else again…” Victoria looked away, surely to hide the fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She shook her head helplessly.

“No, I won’t. I can’t love anyone the way I loved him, it’s impossible”

“Victoria, nothing is impossible. Especially not in our family. I mean, your dad hunts demons, rogue angels and even the devil himself. Your dad was a demon and then became human again. I was an angel, and technically your grandfather is God… and you’re really trying to tell me that you finding someone else to fall in love with is impossible?”

Unexpectedly, Victoria laughed out loud, a sound that warmed Castiel’s heart. He wished he could freeze time and behold this moment of sheer happiness.

“I love you, daddy”

“And I love you too, Victoria. Now try to get some rest” Castiel left the room and was met by a worried-looking Dean standing suspiciously close to the bedroom door. He had obviously heard most of the conversation and the hurt look in his eyes told Castiel that he, too, felt bad that Victoria had felt like she could not tell her parents that she was going through this. In Dean’s eyes, as expected, was also a hint of rage.

“Don’t you dare, Dean! Victoria will be fine, you should not under any circumstance meddle with her affairs by showing up at that boy’s door, do you hear me?” Dean looked at his feet and nodded begrudgingly.

“Unless she asks you… if she asks you, hunt that bastard down…” Castiel whispered. Dean looked up and smirked at his husband, obviously satisfied with the deal.

“Of course. I have some contacts in hell that would love a distraction from the dull everyday life of a demon…”

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #dad!dean #daddy!castiel #protective!dean #parent destiel #winchester daughter #youngest winchester #break-ups #ficlet #destiel are good parents

23 notes · View notes

riverchester · 6 years

Text

Desperate Times - Desperate Measures

Chapter 2

also read on ao3 ; read Prologue/Chapter 1

Summary: He does everything to not think of the night that got him into this. No, he won’t think of a mop of dark hair or piercing blue eyes. He won’t think of a gravelly voice or the clinking of glasses. And most definitely, he won’t think of that intoxicating smell or the feeling of his Baby’s leather backseat under his sweaty palms.When Dean Winchester breaks the one rule he swore to never break, he has to bear consequences he never wanted to deal with, and needs to get creative to solve the problem.

Rating: Explicit No Warnings Category: M/M Fandom: Supernatural Relationship: Castiel / Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; One Night Stands; Angst; Fluff; Mpreg; Language: English

Dean develops some sort of paranoia about his pregnancy, including that avoiding this word - even in his own head - makes it less real. He constantly feels nauseous. It could be the stress, it could be imagination, but all he thinks about is that it's got to be this shit called "morning sickness". And then all the kids he's seeing on the streets. He heard about it, that if you're pregnant you see strollers everywhere, but all those chubby little pups with their big eyes and drool do nothing but mock him about being stupid enough to get himself knocked up.

Busy with suppressing his situation and fighting the urge to just drive away as far as humanly possible, it takes him two days to make the call. It's just as weird, awkward and nerve-wracking as he imagined, and the first thing he does when they hang up is to vomit. He didn't talk about the pregnancy on the phone because he’s got to do this in person, and pretending to be calm, acting like there isn't a heavy cloud shadowing over him is too much for his stomach to handle. But Castiel agrees to meet him for coffee on that very same day and that brings Dean one step closer to finally solving this problem.

When Dean arrives at the address Castiel sent him, the alpha already stands in front of a small café. He looks like he just came out of his office on Wall Street; suit, briefcase and everything. Only his hair looks more like he had some real fun in bed last night.

Okay, stop that train of thoughts right here and now.

Of course Dean remembered how the guy who knocked him up looks like, who wouldn't? But he somehow tried to repress just how hot Castiel is, even in this ridiculously grown-up appearance.

Get yourself together, man!

"Hey," he says, waving with one hand, the other buried in the front pocket of his jeans. He's actually gripping the fabric of the pocket really tight, almost ripping it, to ground himself.

"Hello," Castiel greets equally awkward.

They stand far apart. Far enough, actually, that an old lady has no problem at all to walk with her rollator in between them. There is only the chirp of crickets missing or the scenery would be perfectly stereotyped.

Clearing his throat, Dean takes the lead and opens the door for the alpha, who blinks and looks in confusion for a moment before he gets the hint and walks into the coffee shop.

"You look good," Castiel says when they wait in line.

Dean blushes and pretends to read the board over the counter. "Oh, thanks. You, ehm, you look good too."

"Thank you."

It's awkward and pathetic and Dean is pretty sure that the other man notices it too. When a tall, lanky guy behind the counter asks the for their order, he almost expects Castiel to choose something fancy like decaf or soy milk, but just like himself, the student is rooting for black coffee.

"To go?" lanky-guy asks.

Quick like a shot, Dean answers "yes", shouting so loudly that even the hipsters in the dark corner can hear him, but he doesn't care. If he's going to blow the baby bomb, he's not going to do it in front of art students and wannabe-business-guys. "I just thought... it's nice outside. A bit cold, but sunny, so we could walk around a bit," he adds, turned to Castiel, who nods.

The alpha leads the way and Dean just follows, one block then another, until they arrive at a park. The whole time, he makes sure to keep pace with Castiel, even unconsciously syncing their steps, but always with at least an arms length between them. At first, they don't talk at all but after a while the law student breaks the awkward silence with just as awkward small talk about the weather, traffic, and how the coffee tastes. Dean just goes with it, asks questions about Castiel's classes and answers those about his own pastime the last weeks. To an outsider, they may look like friends from college casually drinking coffee in between economics and philosophy classes.

The omega feels a bit uncomfortable as Castiel is obviously trying hard to make conversation, asking questions to get to know him better. Of course he does, because the alpha must think this is a date, and even if Dean should hate him for knocking him up and being an alpha in general he also feels guilty for not telling him the reason for their encounter right away.

Instead, he sips his coffee in slow-motion, making sure that he has something to occupy himself with for as long as possible and not even bothering that the drink is cold and Castiel has thrown his cup away already. But at some point, Dean has to admit that prolonging won't make it any easier and when they pass a somewhat secluded bench, he stops.

Castiel walks a few more steps until he notices and turns around. "You want to sit down?"

"Actually, yes," Dean says.

The dark-haired alpha wipes a few crumbs of dirt away from the bench and motions for Dean to sit down. He needs a few moments and breathes slowly, sorting his thoughts in his head. This is it, his entire future stands and falls with this conversation. If Castiel says no, if Dean is left behind without the five thousand dollars, his only options is to go back home to his father. And he knows that he wouldn't get away as easily a second time.

So he breathes and closes a fist around the pregnancy test in his pocket.

"You know, I never thought you would call."

Dean looks up to see Castiel stare ahead. Apparently he spent so much time getting a hold of his nerves that the alpha felt the urge to talk.

"Not even when I left the note for you. But I had to, I..." Castiel pauses and chuckles softly. It's probably the first time Dean sees him smile. Without tearing his gaze away from whatever catches his eyes, the dark-haired man continues. "It wasn't at all how I expected the night to turn out when I went to that bar. I didn't even wanted to go, but some of my fellow students wanted to drink on the first week of autumn term being over. They left me alone at the bar pretty early though."

"So you decided to help the omega in distress," Dean playfully counters.

"Yes, in a way. I noticed your smell when you got a drink and then... I'm sorry, this must sound inappropriate, but I couldn't get your smell out of my head. And when I noticed that you had trouble with those alphas, I just wanted to help." Castiel blushes and looks down as if he's ashamed.

"Thanks," Dean answers quietly.

"I don't even know why I followed you outside, out of instinct I guess, but when you crowded me against that wall and... I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, I am really not a person to jump other people. I am very sorry for molesting you."

That makes Dean laugh out loud. "Molesting? Dude, I had it coming with how I played you. And I didn't exactly fight it, right? I could have if I wanted."

Castiel sighs and his muscles seem to relax. "That's good to hear. I wouldn't have wanted my first time to be non-consenting in any way."

Dean chokes on the last sip of his now iced coffee. "Wait... what ? That was your first time? With a guy? With an omega? Or... in general?"

"In general."

Holy shit. Well, now he's really up for a surprise.

"It was good. Very good," Castiel continues quickly and looks at Dean for the first time since they sat down. "But..." He takes a breath and squares his shoulders. "I got to get this out. I don't think we should continue this. I never thought you would call back and then you did and I was... slightly overwhelmed with the situation. I should've said no, so I'm doing it now. We really shouldn't do what we did that night. And I can't continue. I'm sorry that I raised false hopes by meeting you again."

Dean is taken aback and stands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. I... I didn't call you because I wanted to fuck again. You can relax, you're not hurting my feelings here or anything."

Tilting his head to the side and frowning, Castiel looks up at the omega in front of him. "Then why did you call me?"

Okay, this is it...

Dean feels his pulse quickening, his hands shaking, and his ears ringing. It's only one simple word, but the meaning behind it makes it almost impossible to get it over his lips. He can't even swallow around the lump in his throat, like there is only one way out now.

"I'm pregnant."

They're in a park, open space and everything, so it's impossible to hear the words echoing, but Dean still feels like they hit him from everywhere around, again and again. It's all in his head though, lacing him in like a corset, and the panic rises. Because Castiel hasn't said a word yet. In fact, the alpha doesn't do anything, not talking or blinking, Dean isn't even sure the man is still breathing. He just stares up to the sky.

"Did you hear me?" Dean asks. "I'm pregnant! "

At least this evokes eye-contact, but nothing else. It makes him furious. How can the guy be so calm? Or is it just a mask? Is he screaming inside? Is he crying or laughing or just simply confused? Whatever it is, Dean's going crazy with not knowing.

"Castiel!" He tries again, snipping his fingers in front of the other man's face.

"Yes," comes a slow, quiet answer, "I heard you."

"Good. So, got anything to say? Or ask? Before you ask if it's yours, yes it is."

Castiel swallows, but speaks just as calmly as before. "I thought as much."

Dean runs his hands through his hair and sighs. "Come on man! You gotta say something? Wanna know if I'm sure?" He throws the pregnancy test into Castiel's lap, who grabs it after a moment of just staring at it.

Just then does Dean realize how much the other man's hands are shaking. They are literally clutching to that small piece of plastic like it's a lifeline. He feels guilty and breathes in deeply to calm down. It's not fair to just throw this bomb at the guy's face and expect him to talk.

"Look, I know that this is... well... a lot right now. Believe me, I didn't handle it well when I found out. I shouldn't have let you fuck me in the first place, I broke a rule with it, but I gotta say it wasn't bad. I should've definitely asked you to use a condom and stopped you before you knotted me. And I shouldn't have trusted those birth control pills from the street. Turns out they're worth shit." He sits down again next to Castiel, closer this time. "I made some bad decisions that night and now I have a bun in the oven and no money to get rid of it."

The alpha's head snaps up and his eyes widen. "You... you need money for an abortion?"

Dean nods. "I can't go to an official place. It's a long story, but that's just not an option. And the corrupt clinics take five grands. That's... that's why I called you, okay? I don't have that much money, not anywhere near. I thought that you could maybe help. Takes two to make a kid."

Wow, everything is on the table now, and Dean feels both relieved and scared. The questions that are still open now are whether Castiel’s got the money and if he's gonna pay for the clinic.

The silence that follows Dean's confession drags on longer than the omega would like, but he's patient and gives the other man time to process everything that just happened. After over five minutes of not a single word being spoken, though, he dares to ask bluntly.

"Will you help me?"

Castiel stands up and for a brief moment Dean fears the alpha might run away. But he just walks up and down on the gravel path, always staying in front of the bench. His breathing is audible and his hands are still fumbling with the pregnancy test, but eventually, he stops and turns to Dean.

"I want to help."

It's like all the air in Dean's lungs escape in that moment. He can't remember when he last felt this relieved. "Oh god, I hoped you'd say that. I gotta say, I was so nervous."

"I just can't help right now," Castiel continues, stepping closer to Dean.

The omega feels his heart sink a bit, but he tries to remind himself that this is okay, it's not like people run around with five thousand dollars cash in their pockets. And that's exactly what he tells Castiel.

"I got to go now or I'm going to be late for class." The alpha kneels down in the dirt while he speaks, to be at eye-level with Dean. "But I promise I will help. I will call you as soon as I can." He lays a hand on the omega's knee and although Dean feels like pulling away, he resists the urge. "Please, Dean, if there is something else you need help with until then, anything , call me."

"Uh, sure," the dark-blond man isn't exactly comfortable with how close they are, but he is tempted to trust Castiel, to trust that this misery is going to be over soon.

The alpha stands up again and wipes the dirt from his slacks. He grabs for his briefcase and stares at Dean for another moment. "Can I keep this?" he asks and holds up the pregnancy test.

Dean squints his eyes but nods. "Yeah, sure, if a piece of plastic that I peed on brings you joy. Wait... this isn't something kinky, right?"

The way the law student tilts his head is enough of an answer. "Okay, okay, just forget it. Go and get to your fancy ass class. Just... remember to call me."

"I promise I will."

And he does. Not that Dean would've expected Castiel to bail on him - the guy seems to have a mighty need to help - but when he is tossing and turning in his car that night and his phone lights up with Castiel's number on the screen, he is still glad. The alpha has the resources to help - Castiel's words, not Dean's - and invites him over to his place for friday afternoon. Friday is good; two days, 48 hours... if he wasn't so tired, he might even calculate the minutes, but with less weight on his shoulders than he had in weeks, Dean falls asleep easily this night.

He tries to spend Thursday as normal as possible, by his standards, and stays out of trouble to not end up with a black eye. The only thing he doesn't deny himself is flirting and eventually making out with the shy waitress in a diner to get his stomach full of pancakes and waffles for free. Swiping her tip jar makes him feel guilty for a moment, but that way, he can finally buy a new blanket that is way thicker than his old one and will hopefully help in the frosty nights coming ahead. Sally must be a lovely girl if she got that much tip out of serving waffles and coffee.

From google maps, Dean already knows that he's heading towards a damn nice neighborhood on Friday. Street view didn't show him much of the houses, but gives him a general impression and just from that, five grands probably look like peanuts to Castiel. He isn't disappointed when he arrives at the address, and even does a double take to be sure he's at the right place, because a two-story, colonial style residence with a front yard bigger than the whole property he grew up on isn't exactly what he would've expected from a student. But then again, which student runs around dressed like a forty-year-old manager?

Even the doorbell sounds expensive and Dean feels the urge to straighten himself and brush off every last bit of dirt or dust from his clothes to look decent in presence of this house.

Castiel opens the door and smiles a bit reserved before he shakes Dean's hand for greeting and motions for him to come inside.

"Hello Dean, I'm glad you found the way."

"Sure thing," Dean says, handing over his leather jacket when the alpha reaches out his hand, "It's not like this place is easy to oversee."

He takes in his surrounding. It's clean and spacious and definitely not DIY. And he's only standing in the entrance hall.

Damn, how can he afford to already live in a house like this?

Once Dean followed Castiel into what turns out to be a two-story living room with fireplace and everything, he wants to punch himself for being so stupid. The mistake in his thought was that the alpha isn't already living in a house like this, but still .

"Hello, my name is Naomi, I'm Castiel's mother," a brunette woman says as she steps closer to him. Oh shit .

With a bit delay, Dean answers and introduces himself, shaking the offered hand. His instinct tells him to run fast and far, especially when he realizes that the short woman with her everlasting smile isn't the only person that awaits him in the room. The guy who stands up from a big, comfy looking armchair radiates authority like a nuclear reactor and Dean's alpha Geiger counter spikes with the scent that fills the air. But it's not aggressive and the man's casual smile lets Dean stay calm enough to shake his hand too.

"I'm Michael, the older brother."

"Uhm, hello."

Awkward silence builds between the adults and Dean starts fidgeting with his hands, not knowing what to say or do.

"You probably didn't expect us to be here," Naomi says, "but when my son told us about you and the... situation , we wanted to meet you." She motions to the various chairs and sofas in the room. "Please, sit down. Would you like something to drink? Water or juice? We have soda too."

Feeling observed, he takes a seat and looks up to two alphas and a mother looking down on him. Their facial expressions are calm, their posture not as arrogant as Dean would've imagined, so he makes the decision to let the urge to run and flee down. Castiel told him he would help, answering some questions isn't going to kill him.

"Water is fine, thanks."

Naomi is apparently pleased with the answer and fills a glass at a nearby serving cart for him. "There you go."

Eventually, the other three persons sit down too and being at eye-level with them again helps Dean to calm down. He tries to catch Castiel's eye, but the alpha keeps his gaze mostly down on his lap, so he speaks up to catch the other man's attention.

"So... you told them everything? I don't need to explain the situation?" he asks and tightens the grip on his glass to let the cold soothe him.

It's not Castiel who answers, though, but Michael. "We know about the pregnancy, and also about the five thousand dollars you need for an abortion." The dark-haired alpha's stare is intense and Dean fights against the urge to look down. "I don't doubt the validity of the pregnancy test you gave Castiel, it would be easy to test this, but what really interests me, is how sure you are that he is the father."

Dean chokes on his water and Naomi hands him a tissue. "Please excuse my son, but we were quite surprised by this news and a bit of reassurance would be helpful."

"No, no, it's okay, I... I totally understand that you need to know if I'm not someone who just wants the rich kid to pay for another guy's mistake. I get it. And I am sure. That Castiel is the one who got me pregnant, I mean. I... I didn't have... that kind of sex in a while. Not beside that one night with Castiel. And I usually don't sleep with alphas anyway, so..."

He doesn't go into detail any further and looking at the others’ expressions, he doesn't need to. Castiel just looks down at his lap, Naomi has her legs crossed and her face twitches between smiling and obvious discomfort. Michael isn't even trying to hide his disapproval, one eyebrow raised, but Dean can deal with that.

"I see," the older alpha starts. He takes a sip from his own glass and leans back in his seat. "Now that we cleared that up, I guess it's time to talk about how to solve this problem. I'm not going to hide that I have a problem with the plan of getting an illegal abortion. But I guess you have your reason not to ask for your alpha’s permission, who is probably your father since I can't see a mating bite."

Dean swallows. This is a topic that he would very much like to avoid and just the thought of his dad makes him shiver. "I rather not talk about that."

"And we won't pressure you," Naomi says, putting on a fond and gentle smile again.

Dean isn't sure that Michael agrees with his mother's statement, but the alpha makes no move to ask any further. "We're not here to judge you for your decision, but to find a solution. After Castiel met you on Wednesday and consulted us we decided to help you. It is in no one's interest that you run around the streets being pregnant with his child."

The omega held his breath the whole time Michael spoke and exhales with relief when he hears the last part. But before he has the chance to open his mouth and say anything, he hears a door opening and closing and steps coming their way.

"Hey, we're back. They didn't have any - " The red-headed woman standing in the doorway to the living room stops dead in her track when she sees Dean. "I didn't know we have a guest, I... oh, are you Dean ?"

The omega looks confused between her and the other persons in the room. Really, why does everyone here knows his name?

She walks the short distance and is in front of him in an instant, shaking his hand excitedly. "I'm Anna, Michael's wife. And this is Jacob, our son."

Just then does Dean realize the little boy trotting behind his mother. He's got to be around four or five years old, with short brown hair and chubby cheeks.

"Anna, please. This is important," Michael says slightly irritated.

The young woman turns to her mate and kisses him. "Of course, sorry. I will take Jacob upstairs and leave you alone."

"Actually, no. Now that you're here, you can start preparing dinner," Naomi says, then turns to Dean. "Would you like to eat with us? I know that this issue is urgent, but I promise there will still be enough time to discuss everything later."

Everyone stands up, but Dean remains seated, completely overwhelmed with the situation he just got thrown in. He came to this house to see Castiel, get the cash and then leave again. Now he sits in a fancy armchair in a big ass house and listens to the whole Novak family discussing Friday's dinner. At least four pairs of eyes are on him right now, waiting for an answer, and although Dean is more than uncomfortable with this situation, he also knows that years of living in his car have taught him to never waste the opportunity of a free meal.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be nice."

And that's how Dean finds himself in the kitchen of a family he didn't know until that afternoon, helps with chopping, roasting and cooking. At first it feels weird how Anna and Naomi seem to integrate him into their process so naturally and for a short moment he even feels hurt that the women simply assumed he as an omega will help in the kitchen. But if he's honest with himself, it also feels good to have something to do and just forget about the big, overshadowing crisis for some time.

Castiel and his brother are nowhere to be seen until they all gather around the table, where Dean also meets the last member of the Novak family, Castiel's other older brother Luke, who apparently lives in the basement and has been there the whole time he’s been in this house now. Luke is a tall, blond guy and Dean isn't sure how to describe him other than leery. Their eyes meet a few times across the table and it gives Dean a chill.

But other than that, it's a surprisingly uncomplicated and comfortable meal. The topic of his pregnancy is off the table for now, probably because of the five year old Jacob, who has a lot of fun making faces at Dean. The omega doesn't even scrunch his nose when everyone prays before they dig into their food. He just stays quiet and lowers his head like the others do. Religion is an overvalued concept to him, but he really isn't someone to judge this family for their faith.

He helps clearing the table once everyone has finished eating and joins Anna in the kitchen to put everything in the dishwasher.

"Dean, do you know where you're going to stay this night?" Naomi asks when she hands him the last plate from the dining room.

Dean swallows and nervously fidgets with his hands. "Oh, well... I - "

"We already know that you have no fix home," Anna adds and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I sleep in my car at the moment. I had a room when I worked on a farm until last month, but since I came to Chicago..."

"Would you like to stay here for the night?"

He looks up to see both women smile at him.

"We have a guest room," Anna quickly adds. "It has a king-size and an own bathroom. You could come down and rest a bit and we discuss everything else tomorrow."

"She's right, I wouldn't sleep well knowing you are out there in the cold," Naomi says.

Dean doesn't know what to say. This isn't how he imagined the day to turn out at all, and to be honest, he feels a bit nauseous and nervous again that he still doesn't hold the five thousand dollars in his hands. But he isn't stupid, and if someone offers him a warm place and a bed to sleep, he can't afford to say no. And no matter how much he hates alphas, this family has been nothing but kind to him so far.

So of course Dean says yes and stays the night. Anna shows him the guest room, only a few steps away from the kitchen, and it blows his mind. It has the biggest, most comfy looking bed he's seen in years, and when the female omega leaves him alone to get comfortable, he doesn't even dare at first to touch anything in the room.

The furniture is carefully picked, the color of the sheets is the same as the rug and the curtains. Dean almost misses little chocolates on his pillow. After a few minutes of simply staring and coming to terms with the reality of his surrounding, he inspects the bathroom and takes advantage of the walk-in-shower, staying under the hot spray until his skin is all pruney. Anna has been so nice to give him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, so he can slip into fresh, soft clothes before he climbs under the duvet.

There he lies, the light turned off and curtains closed, and tries to fall asleep. But he can't. Not only because it's only around nine p.m. and he's usually still wide awake at this time of day, but also because his heart is racing, his hands shaking with the memory of the day coming back to him. It felt good, to cook with Anna and Naomi, to sit at a proper dining table in a proper dining room and ask other people to hand him the bread. I felt so good he could cry, because the last time he had something like this feels like a fogged, distant memory of better times.

There's a knock on the door and Dean needs a moment to blink the forming tears away and clear his throat before he asks whoever is standing outside to come in.

Castiel's dark mob of hair peeks around the door, surrounded by the light of the hallway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Dean sits up in the bed and turns on the bedside lamp. "No, you didn't."

"I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need." The alpha doesn't open the door more than a few inches.

"Yeah, thanks, I'm fine."

After a short moment of simply staring into each other's eyes, Castiel nods. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night, Dean."

"Goodnight Cas."

The door closes again and Dean turns out the light, leaving him in complete darkness. He falls back into the pillow and starts counting sheep to eventually fall asleep.

#supernatural #fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #angst #fluff #mpreg #one night stand #desperate times - desperate measures

6 notes · View notes

thedarklordmegatron · 6 years

Text

Of Pups and Wayward Omegas - Chapter 2

It’s finally up! Nearly two weeks late...whoops. I’ve been working 12 hour days, 6 days a week atm as well as having to finish my cosplay for my last Con xD It’s done now though and the next chapter will be up quicker than this!

AO3 Link

As the fic contains Mpreg I’m going to whack it under read more, just in case my followers don’t want to read it :)

It was shortly after seven-thirty in the morning and during a particularly strong contraction, that Prompto heard three pairs of footsteps thump around upstairs. From where he knelt in the centre of his nest, chest resting on the largest and fluffiest pillow he could find, Prompto pointedly ignored their calls. They would find him soon enough, his scent would make sure of that. He was more interested in focusing on the contraction and trying to get through it. Thirty-six seconds after the now familiar pain began, it finally ended. Sighing in relief Prompto shuffled around, trying to alleviate some of the pain in his lower back to no avail. With a huff he grabbed his phone and set the timer, continuing to ignore his mates as the footsteps thundered down the stairs and the calls increased in volume.

Three echoes of ‘Prompto?’ followed by a wave of familiar scents suddenly assaulted his senses. Pulling his head away from the pillow he stared at the heavy wooden door separating him from his mates. They obviously knew where he was, he could see the Noct’s shadow as the other Omega tried to peer through the gap between the door and floor. He continued to stare in their general vicinity in silence until Gladio threatened to break the door down.

“‘M fine” He called out, his voice muffled as he turned his head back into the soft fabric of the pillow. He could hear his mates shuffling around on the other side of the door, but his attention was taken away from them by a harsh kick to his spine. Hissing in pain he rubbed his bump. “Come on baby, please stop kicking.” So far he had managed to keep his composure, burying his fear in favour of focusing on safely delivering his pup.

Early in the morning after being woken by his water breaking, he’d broken down. Not quite able to believe that after so long, after so many lost pups, the little one inside him was so close to being safe and most importantly, alive in his arms. That he was finally going to be a parent. It was almost too much for the young Omega, and he so desperately wanted to wake his mates and bury himself safely in Gladio’s arms. But he didn’t. Instead he found the playlist Ignis had helped him create for the labour months earlier, and made himself comfortable as he focused on calming down. He was going to be the bring this pup into the world safely and he was going to be a much better parent than his own, nothing was going to hurt them.

Once again he was forced to speak up when he overheard Noctis start panicking. “I’m fine.” The voices fell silent.

“Prom.” Gladio rumbled in response. Six that voice never failed to make his legs go weak, not that they were particularly strong in that moment. “Open the door please.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated for the third time as he carefully shifted to lay on his side, wedging a pillow between his legs (He’d have to remember to wash it later) and another behind his back. “I can do this.”

“Darling, no one said you cannot. We just want to help.” Prompto would forever be grateful for having Ignis’ calm personality in his life. “How long have you been in there?”

“All night.” Prompto replied, voice barely loud enough to be heard, but heard he was if Gladio’s soft curse was anything to go by.

“C’mon Prom, open the door please.” Noct chimed in. The shadow beneath the door, or lack of one, informed Prompto that his fellow Omega had laid himself down. Whether he was still trying to look in was another thing entirely, it was most likely that Noct had simply gotten lazy and couldn’t be bothered to stay kneeling.

“I can’t. The door’s locked and I don’t want to move. ‘M comfy.” He shot back. It wasn’t a lie, he had made himself quite comfortable and really didn’t want to get up or well...shuffle across the room to open the door for his mates. Still, it was amusing to hear and smell his Alpha’s frustration. Unlike Ardyn, even when Gladio was frustrated there was never any malevolence to it, and if there was it was never directed at him. Initially that frustration had been terrifying, Gladiolus was after all significantly larger than Ardyn could hope to ever be, but after being accepted into the back his size was more comforting than threatening.

“Baby, please open up. I promise that once you’ve opened the door you can lay back down and you won’t have to move again.” Gladio said. Prompto huffed and looked over at his phone, three minutes and twelve seconds. If the last few contractions were anything to go by, he had about two minutes to get to the door and settle down again. With a fair amount of difficulty Prompto was able to shift onto his knees and start crawling towards the door, there was no way he was going to try to stand up if he didn’t have to. He’d tried that once a couple of hours ago and very nearly face-planted into the floor.

It was just as he released the lock that the familiar pain started up once again. Grunting in pain he placed his hands on either side of his bump and hunched over. Closing his eyes he tried to retreat into his head, focusing on breathing through the pain and attempting to time it. He lost track at thirty eight seconds when the pain finally overwhelmed him. As soon as the first cry tore itself from his throat he was bombarded by the comforting scents of his mates, as well as a soft crooning noise that could only be Ignis. He gasped when it finally subsided. That had undoubtedly been the most painful contraction yet.

“Shift away from the door Prom.” Gladio said softly and it was only when a hand touched his back did Prompto realised they had managed to open the door a fraction. Just enough to get their arms through but nothing more. Doing as asked, the labouring Omega shifted slightly and blushed when Noctis wriggled his way in through the larger gap. He’d completely forgotten that he was naked. In spite of having spent plenty of heats with his packmates, he was still incredibly self-conscious about the state of his body, more so when the stretch-marks appeared.

“Hey Prom” Noctis whispered with a smile. Slowly and cautiously he approached the blonde until they were within arm’s distance of one another, at which point Prompto gladly collapsed against him. Nuzzling Noctis’ neck and inhaling as scent. Immediately Noctis’ arms were around him as he returned the gesture. “You should’ve woken us up Prom.”

“Sorry” Prompto whimpered, clinging onto him as though he would vanish at any moment.

“You have nothing to apologise for darling.” Raising his head from Noctis’ neck, Prompto was greeted by the sight of Ignis and Gladio, the latter carefully maneuvering himself through the doorway in an attempt to prevent it from swinging open and hitting one of his mates. He couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, a sound which brought a smile to everyone’s faces. Ignis leant over and pressed a kiss to Prompto’s forehead, moving aside a moment later to let Gladiolus do the same.

While the Alpha and Omega lavished the youngest member of their pack with affection, Ignis took stock of the nest. Eyes landing on the damp pile of blankets and abandoned clothing in the corner, accompanied by a few empty bottles and water and an apple core. It was quite obvious what had happened.

“I forgot to time it.” Prom mumbled after a few minutes. The three looked at him in confusion. “I’ve been trying to time the contractions and the space between them. Forgot to do it this time.”

“The contraction lasted forty-three seconds.” Ignis added helpfully with a warm smile. “I began timing it as soon as your scent changed.” With a smile of his own Prompto reached out and took Ignis’ hand. “We’ll time the space between the next two, one missed one isn’t going to cause too much of a problem.” Lifting Prompto’s hand to his mouth he pressed a kiss to the back of it. Prompto pulled a face and placed a hand on his bump, moving away from Noctis slightly to look down.

“Please stop kicking me.” He said softly. Gladiolus tilted his head and shuffled around the pair of Omegas, laying himself flat on the ground so he was eye level with his pup’s current home. Grinning up at Noctis and Prompto he winked.

“Stop kicking you mother pup.” Gladio chided playfully. Prompto made an almost inaudible noise and shifted once again, a sure sign that the pup was quite happily ignoring its parents.

“I blame you for this.” Prompto joked as he relaxed against Noctis once again, dropping his head onto his shoulder. Despite his earlier determination to give birth to his pup alone, it was a relief to be surrounded by his pack, his mates. Behind him Ignis started rummaging through Prompto’s collection of blankets, throwing the damp ones down the hallway and setting the clean ones off to the side.

Noctis watched the Beta over Prompto’s shoulder “What are you doing Specs?” He questioned.

“It may have escaped your attention but this is hardly the most hygienic location for a child to be born.” Ignis started, wrinkling his nose when he discovered three apple cores hidden beneath a pillow. Gladiolus sat himself back up, keeping a hand on Prompto’s thigh. Collecting up the pillows Ignis set them against the far wall, he’d organise them once he had cleaned up the mess. Satisfied that everything was in a more manageable state, he turned to his three mates. “Gladio, Noctis, why don’t you take Prompto upstairs and get him in the bath while I finish up here.” The blonde Omega looked back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’re thighs are covered with various fluids darling, and a warm bath will help with the aches and pains.”

Prompto had completely forgotten that he was entirely naked from the waist down, and how disgusting his legs were. A bath was a really good idea. Aw crap. He was pretty much sat in Noct’s lap, almost certainly covering him in said birthing fluids. Not to mention Gladio had been lying on the floor beside him. He blushed brightly and ducked his head, burying his head in Noctis’ shoulder.

“Don’t be embarrassed Prom.” Gladio said, noticing the way his Omega tried to hide his face from them. “We’ve been covered in worse.” Noctis snorted, playfully swatting at the Alpha while Prompto whined and tried to shrink in on himself. With a groan Gladio climbed to his feet, nudging a few pillows out of his way. “C’mon babe, let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up.”

It took both Ignis and Gladiolus to get Prompto onto his feet, though they had to pause mid-way to allow him to breathe when his back twinged in pain. When he was finally on his feet Prompto took a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head, after spending so many hours on his knees and in various positions laying down, it was almost a relief to be standing once again.

“Oh, ow.” His hands desperately searched for the nearest body, which just so happened to be Ignis. Grabbing onto the Beta he bowed his head as another contraction tore through him.

“Easy baby.” Gladio soothed, stepping up behind Prompto and massaging his lower back. “Breathe in time with Iggy.” Rather than attempting to copy his breathing patterns, Prompto elected to take a deep breath and let out a soft moan.

Noctis moved to stand beside his mates, wringing his hands together. He longed to touch them but wasn’t sure if his presence would be welcome when Prompto was in pain. Instead he settled for making comforting noises and whispering words of encouragement.

“Forty-eight seconds.” Ignis stated once it was over. “Noctis would you please reset the timer on Prompto’s phone please?” Happy to do something for his mates, Noctis nodded and collected the phone from where it had been left on the floor, doing as asked. “While you’re upstairs make sure to keep track of the time between them okay?” The older Omega nodded and gave a jaunty salute before ducking beneath Ignis’ arms to pop up between him and Prompto. Startled by Noctis’ sudden appearance and the bright smile on his face, Prompto giggled and leaned in to rub his nose against his.

“Alright you two.” Gladio interjected. “Break it up, we’ve got to get sunshine upstairs and in the bath.” The two Omegas reluctantly parted from one another, allowing Gladiolus to open the door fully. Prompto winced at the sudden harsh sunlight, in all the excitement he’d forgotten it was nearing mid-morning.

Ignis accompanied them to the bottom of the stairs, collecting the previously discarded blankets as he did so. “When you come back down darling, we’ll check how far along you are.” Turning to Prompto he kissed him softly. “Enjoy your bath.” With that Ignis retreated into the kitchen with an armful of blankets and the determination to make the nest as comfortable and clean as possible.

Deciding it would take far too long for Prompto to walk up the staircase, and most likely cause too much discomfort, Gladio crouched down and very gently scooped him up into his arms. He squeaked in surprise, wrapping his arms around his Alpha’s neck and grinned at Noctis as they started up the stairs. It was going to be a long day but he could do it, he could bring his pup safely into the world.

#Of Pups And Wayward Omegas #omegaverse #omega prompto #omega noctis #alpha gladiolus #beta ignis #Ignis Scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #Noctis Lucis Caelum #polyship roadtrip #Werewolf!AU #mpreg #trigger warning: miscarriage

12 notes · View notes

quirkyasfok · 6 years

Text

Nothing But Duct Tape and Hope

Relationship: Bichie (Bill x Richie)

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Bill, Alpha Richie, Mpreg Bill

Summary: It takes three chance meetings, and the presence of a beat up rusted-red Ford for Richie to realize who the omega is.

This is part 1. Part 2 can be found here

Read on AO3

The first time Richie sees the omega he doesn’t think much about him. He’s out with some of his buddies, minding his own business when a familiar scent passes by. It triggers odd images of rickety old bikes, cliffs overlooking a sparkling water hole, and a pair of the most intensive blue eyes he’s ever seen. He turns trying to catch a look at who producing the scent by all he sees is tail end of a tall figure in jeans, and a grey hoodie disappearing behind the corner.

The next time he sees the omega he still doesn’t think much about him. He’s out buying himself a sandwich for dinner on his way home from work. They’d gotten several boxes of new records in today that he had to put away, and he finds himself too tired to bother making himself a meal. It’s the same grey hoodie that catches his eyes this time. A figure sitting outside the deli, their head bent low as they scribble away at a well-used notebook. Their hair is a lovely shade of red and long enough to hide their face from his view. The scent hits him next, but it’s off, different. He briefly wonders what a pregnant omega is doing by themselves sitting in a sidewalk when his order gets called, and for the time forgets all about it.

The third time he sees the omega is when it all finally comes back. He’s walking back to his car when he hears the loud ding as someone’s keys hit the pavement followed by someone cursing loudly. He turns to find the same grey hoodie wearing omega clutching to the side of a beat of red ford pickup as they go to pick up their keys.

And then the memories come flooding back.

He’s sixteen again. His glasses are too large for his face, his socks don’t match, and his jeans are honestly more holes than fabric at this point. Next to him Eddie stares in horror at the rusted-up machine in front of them. On the other side Stan stands looking very unimpressed. Bill is the only one who looks happy. He’s smiling like a loon, gesturing to the beat up old truck like it’s the greatest thing in the entire world.

“Is it safe,” Eddie asks. “I feel like just being around that thing will give me tetanus.” Bill doesn’t let this bother him, he shakes his head and keeps smiling.

“It’s s-ssafe E-eddie. I promise. I even had a mechanic l-look it over before I drove it home. E-everything works.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Eddie mutters.

“Who’d you get to look at it? Derry mechanics, or Larry’s auto,” Stan asks. Bill pats the hood, bits of rust fall from the underbelly.

“Larry’s auto.”

Bill’s answer doesn’t seem to make Stan happy. Richie doesn’t blame him. The truck literally looks like it’s on its last wheel… if that.

“I thought for certain you’d go for something a little more silver,” he finally pipes in. Bill laughs and gestures for them to follow him to the back. They do, but all three continue to keep their distance. It hits him the second he sees the only new and good-looking thing on the truck as to how much this vehicle means to Bill. On the back, surrounded by rust is a brand-new license’s plate with the words ‘SILVER2’ written in blocky letters. Bill looks so proud of this that Richie can’t even bring himself to comment on how the truck isn’t even silver, can’t bring himself to make side remarks when it takes a few tries for Bill to get the driver side door open, and can’t bring himself to say no when Bill offers to give all three a ride.

Somehow all four boys manage to squeeze themselves into the bench seat of the old Ford. It’s a tight squeeze that’s made even more awkward by the fact the trucks a manual, and Bill has to be able to access the clutch as he drives. The truck still smells like whoever Bill’s dad bought the truck from, and lemon cleaning spray that instead of masking the scent seems to just makes things worse.

But none of that bothers him. Not the fact that he’s uncomfortable pressed against Eddie and Bill. Not that the Ford smells like old man and lemons. Not the fact that he’s pretty certain the truck is held together by nothing but hope and duct tape.

No.

All he cares about is the look Bill gets when he turns the key and SILVER2 somehow roars to life with only a few loud clangs. He decides that as long as this truck keeps Bill smiling like that than it’s the best damn truck he’s ever had the privilege of sitting in.

He comes back to reality feeling like somebody has punched him right in the face. Memory after forgotten memory filling his brain. Pleasant memories of summer filled nights with seven losers laid out in the bed of the old Ford laughing together until the early hour of the morning. Sad memories of saying goodbye, watching the rusted red Ford piled high with junk drive off in the direction opposite of his own.

He’d forgotten. They’d promised to stay in touch. They’d promised to always be friends. Somehow, he’d forgotten them, and it took a rusted red truck to get him to remember.

He walks over to the omega, who’s now fiddling with his key ring to get the key he needs to unlock the vehicle. He thinks for a second that the person before him may not be who he thinks it is, but then a familiar pair of blue eyes peek up seeming to sense someone is watching them. Brown meets blue and Richie swears the whole world stops spinning for a second.

Bill seems lost for a few seconds as he stares Richie. His face blank as he stares uncertainly as some unknown alpha steps into his space, but then Richie can see the moment Bill seems to remember. His eyes light up, and he smiles just like on the day he showed off his “brand new” truck to the rest of the losers. He meets Richie halfway and the two embraces in the middle of the parking lot without a single care in the world.

Bill is still slightly taller and the small swell from his baby bump presses awkwardly into Richie’s stomach, but Richie decides then and there that this is the best hug he’s ever had. He thinks he could hug Bill forever, but a car honks at them to move so he sadly has to let go.

They move to go stand by the old Ford. It’s the same as Richie remember it. Seats made mostly of duct tape, more rust than red, and the radio antenna dented slightly in the middle from the time he tried to slide across the hood.

He laughs at this and runs his hands along the hood of the vehicle.

“How in the hell have you managed to keep this thing running?” Bill laughs.

“The same as when we were younger. S-ssshear hope and duct tape.”

Man, did Richie miss that stutter.

The talk for over two hours. Richie tells Bill about his job at the local record store, the band he’s in, and the weird friends he’s made since leaving for college. Bill talks about graduating college, some of the things he’s written, and one wild story involving him having to seduce someone into getting some free stuff for his buddies (“like B-bev did for us”). He shares the story sounding like he’s surprised it actually worked, which just reminds Richie how cute Bill is. He learns that Bill is exactly six months pregnant. Bill never says anything about another Alpha in his life. Richie never asks. They agree to meet up again in a few days then they go their separate ways.

The next time Richie sees Bill it’s for their intentional meet up. They meet up at Richie’s favorite dinner. They talk mainly about the past, and all the fun times they’ve both started to remember. They even discuss the weirdness of forgetting everything. They never discuss the real cause of what could be behind the amnesia. Even though Richie dreamed of claws and red balloons the night before, and Bill’s stutter seems to be just a degree worse than the last time they met (he also swears it had been completely cured until a few days ago) neither seem up to being the first to bring up the forbidden topic.

He also learns the baby’s a boy. Still nothing about the father.

Throughout the next month they continue to meet. They talk about the past. They talk about the present. They talk about the things they love, the things they hate, and everything in between. The weather gets colder, the seasons change from Fall to Winter. Somehow Bill’s baby bump grows larger.

He learns on their seventh meet up about Bill’s relationship status. He makes an off comment about making Bill’s baby daddy jealous with how much time Bill’s been hanging out with him. Bill gives him a sad smile and shrugs. He explains there is no ‘baby daddy’ in his life.

“It’s just m-me and my truck.”

Richie’s almost annoyed with himself by how happy that makes him.

The fourteenth … or maybe it’s fifteenth time they meet isn’t planned. Richie’s out with his buddies again. Their walking down the sidewalk late on a cold winter night. Their all a bit drunk. It’s been a pretty fun evening so far.

But then he spots a familiar red truck parked near a street lamp. It’s sitting alone in an empty parking lot. He waves for his buddies to keep going and makes his way over to the beat up old Ford. Something about this entire situation feels off, and he’s determined to figure out what’s up. He looks over the truck first. The tarp Bill keeps tied over the bed of the truck is untied in one corner, but other than that there appears to be nothing wrong. There’s a large mound of blankets piled up in the bench of the truck, and when he knocks on the driver side window the lump shifts just slightly before Bill’s head appears from the mound. They blink owlishly at each for a few minutes before Bill seems to snap out of his surprise, and unlocks the passenger door for Richie to climb on in. The inside of the truck is just as cold as the outside air, but the blankets Bill offers him are nice and warm and the inside smells strongly of Bill so he can’t complain too much.

“Bill, why are you sleeping outside in your truck?” His own voice surprises him. It sounds a little too gravely. He feels oddly sober now too.

Bill fiddles with the edge if his blanket. He looks embarrassed. He shrugs.

“It’s like I told you R-richie… it’s just me and my truck.” He gestures for Bill to elaborate. Bill sighs and continues. “A few months ago,… when I found out I was p-p-pregnant… my boyfriend at the time was-sssn’t happy about it. He s-sss-said I should get rid of the baby. That he d-doesn’t want to b-be a father. I refused, so he kicked me out.” Bill pauses to sniffle and wipe at his eyes. Richie scoot closer. “My writing makes decent money b-but not enough for me to live on my o-own, so since getting kicked out I’ve just been driving around. I was honestly just passing through, but then you showed up and….” He shrugs and gestures to space around them. “Here we are….”

“Why didn’t you tell me.”

Bill shrugs again.

“I didn’t want to be a b-b-bother.”

“You’re never a bother Big Bill.” He pulls Bill close and hugs him tight. It’s a bit awkward with the space and Bill’s belly but they make it work.

“God Bill your fucking freezing. Why the hell don’t you at least have the heat on.”

“H-heat doesn’t work.”

He lets go of Bill to take the keys off the dash, and puts them in the ignition. The truck sputters a bit before finally roaring to life just as Richie remembered. Bill seems surprised when Richie messes with the radio and it comes to life too.

“The radio hasn’t worked in years.”

Richie just smirks and winks at him.

“Guess it just missed me.”

Bill snorts and rolls his eyes. Even in the dim light Richie can see the tear marks on his cheeks, but he’s smiling softly.

The heat doesn’t magically work, but Richie figures that’s a problem for another day. He convinces Bill to drive them out of the parking lot, and directs him towards the apartment he shares with his roommate.

“Are you sure your roommate won’t mind me spending the night.”

“Yes Bill, and even if he did I wouldn’t give a shit.”

He leads Bill up the stairway. Bill seems a bit uncertain, but Richie fills the silence with shitty jokes that gets Bill giggling. He apologies for the messy state of the apartment, Bill says he doesn’t mind, Richie make sure to keep a hand on Bill’s back as the fumble around in the dark to make sure he doesn’t trip over anything. He leads Bill into his room and shuts the door. He tugs Bill into his bed, and rubs the omega all over trying to breath warmth back into frozen limbs. Bill giggles and squirms when Richie ‘accidently’ rubs at his sides. He feels the baby kick against his palm. Bill flushes a bit. Richie stares at him amazed. They fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Another month passes. Richie can’t believe how time has flown. Bill is eighth months, and looks ready to pop. Currently he’s asleep on the couch, cuddled up close against Riche’s side. The grey hoodie is long gone, and now Bill is wearing a lovely blue sweater. There’s a notebook resting on his belly, and a pencil loosely held in his slack grip. Richie leans over to give him a kiss on the cheek, and takes the pencil and notebook away.

Things aren’t easy. The baby’s due date is coming up, and neither are as prepared as they want to be. Bill still seems upset about dragging Richie into his baby drama, but Richie continues to tell him that it’s all okay. It’s odd how much he doesn’t seem to mind that the baby isn’t his by blood. The idea of helping Bill raise a child pleases him in a way he doesn’t fully understand, but has come to embrace with open arms.

They still don’t talk about the dark parts of their pasts either. They don’t talk about the months Bill spent living alone in his truck, or the images of bright red balloons that seem to fill both their nightmares.

They’ll probably have to talk about it someday, but not yet.

No, for now Richie has more important things to focus on. He looks back down to the newspaper in his lap, and continues to read the ad for the house for sale off Fillmore Street. It’s a bit above their price range, but he figures is he takes a few extra shifts at the record store they just be able to pull that one off. He smiles and circles the ad with a bright red marker. Next to him Bill smiles pleased in his sleep.

Richie wouldn’t have things any other way.

#bichie #bill denbrough #richie tozier #mpreg #omega!Bill #mpreg!Bill #alpha!Richie #it

16 notes · View notes

jbankai89 · 7 years

Text

Fic: Wants (Sequel to Needs)

My good friend and braintwin @kuriquinn suggested I try posting my actual fics on Tumblr, rather than just linking them, so I'm giving it a try. For those of you following my work on AO3 or AFF, these will be reposts until I'm caught up and everything is posted. :)

Title: Wants

Author: JBankai89

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Warnings: Abortion, MPreg

Genre: Omegaverse

Summary: Three months after their bonding, Severus is deeply enjoying his time with his Omega, Harry Potter. But one fluke accident turns their post-bonding bliss on its head, and Severus is faced with a difficult choice.

Other Links: AO3, AFF, LJ

Notes: Do mind the warnings if you are of the olden faith. (my obnoxious way of saying if you're one of those Purity Wank people, your bitching will be ignored) I consider this the end of the series, which I imagine is frustrating for those of you who hate open-ended endings. I would not be completely against doing a third part, but as of right now, consider this finished. If I were to do a third part, it wouldn't be for a long while—8 months to a year, at least.

Previous Fic: Needs

Wants

Severus's eyes fell automatically to the Gryffindor table, as they so often had over the last three months. His young bondmate felt no inclination to hide his mark of claim, and bore it proudly. Harry's tie and collar were pulled down more than was necessary, and the white crescent of scar tissue was easily visible amongst the mass of golden flesh. Severus felt a stirring of his cock at the sight. Harry Potter was his. The saviour of the wizarding world belonged to him. His claim was made even sweeter by Gilderoy's fury when he'd first seen it. Chuckling as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips, once more the sweet memory filled his mind.

Severus was sitting in the staff room, an area he rarely graced with his presence. However, after seeing precious little else of the castle during the past three days he'd spent in bed with a squirming Omega, and he needed a change. Severus sat with a stack of horrific first year essays before him when Minerva burst into the room, looking incredibly irritated.

“Severus, I'd like an explanation,” she said without preamble.

He looked up, and blinked at the Headmistress in confusion. “For...?”

“Gilderoy.”

“Inbreeding?” He asked with an air of innocence, and she snorted. Minerva tried to glare at him, though her amusement at his remark ruined the effect.

“Don't be cute, Severus, it doesn't become you,” the thin line of her lips never changed, though her approval of the well-placed comment was evident in her tone. “I would like to know why our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor just burst into my office, ranting and raving about something you apparently stole from him?”

Severus smirked. Stole, indeed. His delightful little acquisition was still sleeping off the three days' worth of merciless fucking as they spoke.

“Well?” Minerva arched a brow, but Severus didn't have it in him to wipe his expression of triumph off his face.

“He's a sore loser, Minerva. He lost the little Saviour Omega to me, and he's bitter about it.” Severus returned to the stack of essays before him, while Minerva chuckled a little.

“Well, if that's all. I swear, that's the last time I hire an unbonded Alpha...”

Severus hadn't been at all surprised by Minerva's lack of response to his statement, nor distressed by the implication that he'd slept with a student. She knew as well as he did that Alphas and Omegas played by different rules, and the standard set of morals did not apply to them quite as cleanly. That did not stop her from pulling Potter out of his Potions class of course—apparently their tendency to be rather lewd with each other during class time was not conductive to the learning process. If nothing else, the looks upon the faces of his Omega's fellow Gryffindors had been well worth the reprimand.

They hadn't been exactly quiet about their bonding, but most strangely, it hadn't hit the papers. Severus was rather pleased about this development, certain one of Potter's many adults watching over him had stepped in to keep it from being printed. His little Omega had enough to deal with without the press making things worse, as Weasley and Granger did not seem exactly pleased by his newest scar.

Neither of them seemed to have the nerve to speak to Severus directly, but since Potter's first Heat, they appeared to be even more irritating than usual, Granger in particular. He marvelled at his mate's ability to put up with her nagging and accusations of coercion and abuse when she thought Severus was too far away to hear. They had brought him Potter to begin with, what did the silly girl think would happen? Severus shook his head to dispel the thoughts. It would take time for those two to come around, and if his mate still considered them his friends, Severus vowed to keep his frustrations at their behaviour to himself.

In terms of Gilderoy, hadn't the nerve to confront Severus face-to-face thus far, but his fury radiated him off in waves so thick that even the most intuitively dense could sense it. Severus sipped his morning coffee, watching his little bondmate as he talked animatedly with his friends, far too exuberantly for a Wednesday morning as far as he was concerned. At least today the other two seemed to be keeping their disapproval to themselves. Severus smirked as he watched. Of course, that boy's seemingly boundless energy was put to good use the night before, but the fact that he wasn't distinctly bow-legged this morning simply meant that Severus would just have to pound him into the mattress harder tonight. The other Alphas that occupied the school could easily smell the scent of sex that hung around the Gryffindor like heavy cologne, but Severus was determined that everyone else was aware of it too.

The bell tolled, and Harry stood with an obvious spring in his step. Severus continued to smirk as he watched him go.

~*~

As the days passed, Harry's next Heat came and went without incident. By this time in their relationship, Severus had worked out that by employing the use of a modified Pepper-Up potion the morning following, they could return to their normal lives much more quickly. Severus rather enjoyed this, as their relationship was a rather physical one, and the absolute exhaustion both of them felt after Harry's heat ended took far too long to recuperate from, as far as Severus was concerned.

He was rather looking forward to the end of the day, and he spent a great deal of his class time thinking of his little Omega, so flushed but satiated as he had been that morning. Unfortunately, a dunderheaded first year that could easily rival Longbottom in brewing prowess had melted a rather spectacular hole (nigh crater) in one of the desks and reduced his cauldron to molten slag. Severus was most displeased at this development, and he found himself stuck that evening overseeing the boy's detention, instead of indulging in another delightful round of rough sex with his Omega.

Severus could smell him lurking outside the door, all hormones, adrenaline, and arousal. The thought of Harry waiting there simply for him made Severus's cock stir.

“Craelic,” Severus barked, making the tiny first year jump. The cauldron in his hands clattered into the washing basin loudly and he winced, as though expecting a reprimand for dropping it. “Out,” he said when the child had finally turned to face him, “your detention is over.”

With a look as though he'd been told Christmas had come early, he scooped up his bag and bolted out the door.

Harry leant against the door frame Craelic had occupied not ten seconds before, and after a moment he stepped in, his hips swaying in practised seduction. Severus's little Omega had changed so much in the last few months. In particular, his confidence in pleasures of the flesh was significantly heightened. Harry had learnt through hours of enthusiastic practice just what to do to make his Alpha dissolve from the proud man he was to a quivering mess of sensation. The payoff amazed Severus, especially considering he'd long ago come to the decision that it was impossible to impart any sort of knowledge upon the boy, and have him actually use it.

Harry crawled into Severus's lap the moment he reached him, and rotated his hips to grind his erection into the Alpha's budding one. Severus groaned, tilting his head back against the hard wood of the chair's back, and he moved to wrap his arms around Harry's waist.

The young man leant in and kissed Severus deeply. Harry's tongue darted out, twisting with the Alpha's, his fingers burying themselves in Severus's hair.

“I went looking for you,” Harry murmured as they broke the kiss, “McGonagall told me you were overseeing a detention, but I can think of so many evening activities that are much more fun than giving nightmares to first years.” He grinned as Severus chuckled, one of his hands moving to his Omega's throat, his thumb brushing lightly over the mark that resided there. Harry trembled in his arms and a soft moan escaped him while Severus smirked, pleased with the reaction.

“I was thinking the same thing myself,” he purred, “it seems I've had a bad influence on you.” Harry grinned.

“I wouldn't call it bad per se...” the Omega leant forward again and brushed his lips lightly across Severus's. “I think it's more that I'm insatiable, as you so eloquently pointed out last night. Bit of pot calling kettle black, don't you think?”

“Point,” Severus smirked, and drew his young man in for another kiss. Harry responded immediately, rocking his hips into Severus before he casually allowed one of his hands to trail down his front, the heel of his palm pressing firmly into his throbbing erection. Oh yes, Severus thought with delight, I've definitely had a bad influence on him.

The couple reluctantly held off shagging in the classroom and instead made their way back to their quarters. After traumatizing a number of students and staff members who had walked in on them—Severus had conveniently forgotten to ward the door each time—Minerva had politely ordered them to keep their bedroom antics to their own quarters. His Omega did not even have the good grace to look properly abashed at the admonishment, but instead grinned knowingly at his former Head of House. Severus was certain that was the only time he'd ever seen Minerva McGonagall blush.

Minerva hadn't been exactly keen on a student moving in with a professor, but that decision had been entirely out of her hands. Beyond Harry being of age and therefore a legal and consenting adult, they were a magically bound pair bond. It would have been Minerva in the wrong if she'd attempted to bar Harry from his quarters. The Ministry had its faults, this Severus knew all too well, but the legal protections in place for Alpha and Omega couples were so that Severus never needed to concern himself with the worry that someone might try and separate him from Harry.

Harry's back had barely hit the mattress before Severus devoured his mouth with his own. His Omega moaned, arching his spine to gyrate his hips into Severus's sizable erection. Severus let out a small growl of desire, his iron control on his Alpha instincts crumbling as he reached down and dug his fingertips into Harry's hip, holding him in place. Harry whimpered into his mouth and reached up to wrap one of his arms around Severus's neck, while he buried his opposite hand in his hair with a needy moan.

Severus dug his hands under Harry's jumper and peeled the obstructive garment off, breaking their kiss momentarily, then his mouth descended on Harry's bonding mark. Severus raked his teeth across the scar, eliciting a number of delicious sounds from the squirming youth beneath him.

“God, Severus, please...” Harry moaned, arching his hips to grind his erection into Severus's, the action causing the older man to growl softly. He reached down and ripped open Harry's trousers, popping off the button in his haste, though in Harry's haze of arousal, he didn't seem to notice. He kicked off the obstructive garment, and peeled off his T-shirt while Severus shed his own clothing just as quickly.

Severus climbed onto the bed with his Omega, pinning him in place one-handed while he devoured his mouth. Harry was panting and squirming, his hips arching as he struggled to gain some of sort of friction, but Severus did not indulge him, trailing one hand down to rest on Harry's hip, and he pinned him to the bedspread. The Omega whined plaintively.

“Damn it, Severus,” Harry hissed as he squirmed under his hold, “if you don't get on with it I swear—” Harry cut himself off when he gasped sharply, the older man leaning in at last to give Harry but a taste of the contact he so deeply desired. Severus released him and flipped him roughly onto his front, and smirked as Harry immediately shifted onto his knees and presented his arse to him beautifully.

“Only a handful of months and I already have you begging for me,” Severus purred as he ran his palms up the back of Harry's thighs, then gripped the pert buttocks before him. Harry moaned, but didn't respond to the comment, too far gone to care about anything but getting off.

Severus pressed a kiss just above Harry's coccyx, and reached for the night table to snatch up the pot of lubricant.

Severus spent very little time stretching his boy before he slicked himself and slid into Harry in one fluid motion. His Omega threw his head back with an appreciative moan, and Severus could see his fists clutching tightly at the duvet.

Severus drew out of Harry's velvet heat, and thrust back in sharply, eliciting another delicious moan from him. Severus clutched his Omega's lithe hips with bruising force while he pounded into the younger man, their grunts and pleasure-filled cries echoing throughout the bedchamber.

Harry let out one final cry as he spilled his seed across the bedcover, and as Severus found his release a moment later and he moved to slide out of the youth, he was stopped short when he felt his cock knot inside Harry's arsehole as he was pumped full of come. He knew at once that it had not escaped Harry's notice as his breath hitched in surprise. He squirmed, not having the mindless haze of his Heat to help him acclimate to the sensation, and Severus could see the tense alarm that practically radiated off of him.

Severus was quick to wrap an arm around Harry's waist to keep him from ripping them apart, and Harry let out another whine, this one far from the pleasure-induced ones he'd been vocalizing not a full minute earlier.

“Sev-Severus,” Harry panted as Severus eased them both down onto the bed, holding Harry fast against him and massaging his bonding mark in an effort to keep him calm. “What's going on? My Heat's ended. Why are you...?”

“I'm not certain,” he murmured, keeping his hold on Harry tight, just in case he tried to jerk them apart; the result would not be pleasant for either of them. “It could be anomalous, an aftereffect of your most recent Heat,” he paused to press a kiss into his untidy hair, damp with sweat. “I need you to calm yourself. If you pull us apart too soon it will be quite painful,” he said in the most even tone he could manage, still able to feel Harry quivering in his hold.

Gradually, Harry's form relaxed and he pillowed one of his arms beneath his head while Severus held him. His grip on the boy relaxed, and he brushed his fingertips over Harry's taut, muscular abdomen as his thoughts went to what his spontaneous knotting could possibly mean. Severus felt mildly sickened with himself at the faint spark of hope that ignited at the back of his mind. He quickly dismissed it; now wasn't the time.

They'd had the discussion before; Harry was still coming into his Omega inheritance, and the idea of pregnancy was still an alien concept to him. Moreover, Harry was adamant about not being a teenage mother. Severus had waited a long time, and had all but given up on the idea of heirs, and though the need to wait longer frustrated him, he refused to force his Omega to carry his offspring when he clearly wasn't ready to do so.

Even so, as Severus brushed his fingers over the flat expanse of skin; he could not help himself as his imagination to ran wild, and the image of Harry swollen with child—his child drifted to the forefront of his mind. It was a deeply arousing image, and it took a great deal of self control to keep himself from vocalizing his desire. He'd promised himself that he'd never push his Omega into anything—not sex, not bonding, nor bearing young. They had discussed it once, and Severus would wait for Harry to return to the subject when he felt ready.

“You're thinking about it, aren't you?” Harry's soft question broke the comfortable silence, and Severus's palm stilled above Harry's navel.

“About what?” Severus asked, and Harry angled his head to look up at the older man, a small smirk on his face.

“Don't play dumb,” Harry said as he shifted uncomfortably, but didn't jerk against Severus's knot. Harry rested a hand over his. “About...” Severus watched as Harry went a little pink, “well, you know.”

Severus stared at his Omega. Harry was far from the blushing virgin he'd been when they'd bonded three months earlier, but the mention of the fact that he could carry children was still enough to reduce him to the attitude of an embarrassed first year.

“I cannot help it,” he murmured as he brushed his thumb across one of Harry's abdominal muscles, and he felt it twitch beneath his fingers. “I had long given up on the idea of children, and it is something I have wanted for many years,” Severus leaned in to press a kiss to the top of Harry's head, “that does not mean I have any intention of pushing you towards that decision.” As Severus finished speaking, he felt his knot let up enough to enable him to pull himself free, and Harry immediately rolled over and burrowed himself into Severus's chest.

“It's just...it's weird to me,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled against Severus's chest, “I mean, I always thought I'd be the one...not the other way round,” He looked up, his gaze troubled, his glasses flashing in the low torchlight. Severus reached down and plucked them from Harry's face and set them aside. He was then quick to pull Harry into a searing kiss.

“Try not to think about it too much, Harry,” Severus murmured as he bit gently at Harry's lower lip and gave it a small tug. “It is not something we need to rush with, and we can discuss it further after your N.E.W.T.s, if you like.” Severus did not know what kind of reaction he'd expected from the young man following his words, but the reaction he got was the last one he could have predicted.

Harry giggled.

“Is something funny?” Severus asked while he cocked a brow, and in response his Omega grinned.

“It's still kind of weird to hear you call me Harry. I'm just so used to you barking Potter! at me.”

“Is there something else you'd rather I call you?”

“No,” Harry replied with a small smile, and leaned up to kiss him, “I like it when you call me Harry.”

Recognizing the diversionary tactic for what it was, Severus cleaned the sheets with a few casual flicks of his wand, then tugged the duvet over the pair of them. The soft sigh from his Omega was enough to tell Severus that he'd nodded off, and with his chin pressing lightly against the top of Harry's head, he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him

~*~

Harry had already left by the time Severus woke, the space in between his arms that he usually occupied was cold, and the sight of it deeply unsettled him, though he could not put his finger on why.

Closing off his concern behind a mask of indifference, he went through his morning rituals and swept to the Great Hall, and spotted Harry at once, sat between Weasley and Granger. He looked more subdued than usual, and Severus did not miss how his free hand frequently strayed to press against his abdomen.

The sight made Severus feel slightly ill.

Under normal circumstances, the idea that the first time they'd fucked without the presence of the Contraception Charm he'd been utilizing would be a source of pride for him. However, knowing that this was something Harry didn't want, the idea filled him with sick fear. Despite the logical part of his brain telling him that his knotting had to be an aftereffect of Harry's Heat, some unforeseen accident, it didn't mean anything—he couldn't completely quell his worry.

“Trouble in paradise, Severus?”

The sickly sweet voice of Gilderoy Lockhart cut through his musings and he scowled, turning his head to refocus his gaze on his moronic colleague.

“What makes you say that, Gilderoy?” He spoke in his coldest tone of voice, the tone he only brought out in a few special cases—Longbottom, misbehaving students, Longbottom, would-be potioneers brewing illicit concoctions in their dormitories, and Longbottom, to name a few. The warning in his voice seemed to go over the man's head, and Gilderoy smiled in what he seemed to think was his winning smile.

“Oh, nothing my good man, merely that your little one looks like somebody has died, and you are about as stiff as a board,” he said, continuing to smile as he reached for the fruit bowl. “Perhaps the little rascal is proving to be too much for you. I'd be quite happy to take him off your hands if you feel as though you can't handle him.”

“I can handle him fine, Gilderoy,” Severus replied, his voice just short of a growl, “you would do well to keep your nose out of other people's affairs if you like the shape it currently is.”

“Now, now, Severus!” Gilderoy said with a good-natured chuckle as he slapped Severus on the back, hard enough that he to jerked forward slightly. “I was merely commenting on the fact that you and your little mate both seem rather tense this morning,” Severus didn't respond, but glared silently at the man until his 'winning smile' began to waver. Severus knew that Gilderoy was alluding to the habit some Alphas had of 'sharing' their mates with others, but he'd sooner wear pink to his lessons than ever subject Harry to such a thing. He levelled his glare with Gilderoy, not saying a word, and the look was enough to break what little courage the man had easily.

“Well I must dash,” he said hastily, flashing The Smile again, “need to prepare for my next lesson. Have a good morning, Severus.” Without another word he was up and out of the Hall; Severus lifted his wand and took careful aim, but a withered hand on his arm stopped him short.

“While I do not deny that watching that man battle a bad case of spattergroit would be highly entertaining, try to keep from cursing him in front of so many witnesses. As Headmistress, I would be obligated to reprimand you,” Minerva said patiently, her eyes following Gilderoy's hasty exit.

“I could do more damage with potions anyway,” Severus replied lightly as he tucked away his wand, then caught the withering look she was giving him, “I won't kill him, I have no desire to go to Azkaban.”

“All right then, well, when Gilderoy comes to me blaming you, we never had this conversation,” she said while Severus helped himself to some porridge, his eyes straying back to his Omega. “Are you sure you're all right, Severus? Gilderoy may have the brain cell count of a block of wood, but you and Harry do look rather troubled this morning.”

“It's nothing, Minerva,” Severus muttered at once, “we're both fine.”

~*~

Severus spent the day in a foul mood, aided in no small part to the fact that he hadn't been able to speak to his bondmate all day. He'd only caught sight of him at mealtimes, given that he was no longer in Severus's eighth year Potions class. Unlike the literature that claimed that a pair bond could sense one another's thoughts and emotions, Severus could lay claim to no such ability. However, Harry's downtrodden mood at breakfast had left him feeling particularly edgy.

He did not even have Longbottom around to take his excess frustration out on, given that the boy had opted not to return for the makeup year, and instead Severus had to settle for watching Harry at dinner that evening, and hoped quietly that their worries were entirely unfounded. He watched his young mate pick over a serving of meat pie and potatoes while he argued in low tones with his friends. Severus was bolstered somewhat by the fact that he at least seemed more like himself than he had that morning as he brandished his fork at Weasley like a pronged wand and rounded on Granger in equal measure.

After dinner Severus was quick to return to his quarters, and spent his time grading a depressingly large stack of essays while he tried to keep his eyes from straying to the door. Most nights, Harry would take to coming straight back to their quarters and do his homework by the fire, but tonight, he was nowhere to be found. The empty sitting room felt almost too quiet; Severus had grown rather used to the soft scratching of Harry's quill in the background while he worked, and the occasional question when he hit an area of study that he hadn't completely grasped the concept of. His absence weighed heavily upon Severus's mind, and this worry for his bondmate worsened as the evening wore on.

As curfew came and went, Severus lost the last dregs of his patience as he slammed his quill down upon the essay of a particularly idiotic third year. He stood up and swept through his doors, determined to find and drag his ridiculous mate back to their quarters if he had to do it with him kicking and screaming the whole way.

Severus's first instinct was to check Gryffindor tower, but he had a feeling that if he barged into the lions' den all hell would break loose, and decided first on checking the library. This seemed to have been the right move, as the moment he'd crossed the library's threshold his senses were overwhelmed by the sweet scent of his ripe young mate.

He followed the scent to an apparently empty table, one of the chairs pushed out a little further from the rest. Even at a distance, Severus could hear the soft sound of slow, even breathing. He reached out, and his fingers brushed over the soft folds of Harry's invisibility cloak, and he pulled it off carefully to keep from waking his Omega.

Harry's arms were folded on the tabletop with his head pillowed upon them, an open book and the rough draft of an essay laid out next to him. At the sight of it, Severus felt his anger drain away, to be replaced by a pulling at his heart that was not unlike sympathy. He flicked his wand to gather up the rucksack that had been stowed beneath the chair, Harry's partially-finished homework, as well as the cloak. Severus draped it over one arm before he carefully gathered the boy to him and carried Harry back to their quarters.

Severus laid Harry upon their bed and stowed his belongings in the corner of the room where they were usually left. Using a number of banishing spells to disrobe Harry while disturbing him as little as possible, he stripped Harry to his pants before he tucked him in.

It was still strange for Severus to do such things for another, to care for someone other than himself. He cared for his Slytherins, certainly, and his colleagues—mostly, but the care he felt for the young man that now rested in his bed was vastly different. He reached out to carefully pull off Harry's glasses and set them on the side table, while he simultaneously brushed a few stray strands of hair from his eyes. Was this love? Severus wondered, while a soft, content sigh escaped his boy at the light contact.

Severus dismissed the thought, and returned to the stack of essays he needed to finish correcting. It was well past midnight by the time he finished and headed to bed, and the moment he relaxed into the mattress it seemed as though Harry sensed his presence, and immediately burrowed himself into Severus's waiting arms.

Troubled though he was by his Omega's behaviour over the last twenty-four hours, he could not deny that his presence acted much like an anchor. It kept him grounded, and kept him where he needed to be. Severus's chin rested against the top of the boy's head as his soft breaths lulled him to sleep.

~*~

Given that the next day was a Saturday, Severus was not surprised that he was the first one to wake that morning. Harry clearly saw no reason to rouse himself early—and Severus was certain all his unfounded worrying must have been exhausting.

Severus slid from the bed, careful to keep from waking Harry, and he pulled on his slippers and dressing gown. Brushing the sleep from his eyes, he stepped from the bedroom and into the adjacent and barely-used kitchen, and went about preparing breakfast for himself and his bondmate. They had things to discuss, which they could not accomplish in the Great Hall. Seating Harry with him at the High Table would cast unwanted attention towards them and their situation, and Severus wouldn't be caught dead sitting with the students—and at the Gryffindor table, no less.

Thankfully, Potions and cooking were similar enough that Severus was not hopeless in the kitchen, and he managed to throw together a proper English Breakfast complete with toast, eggs, bacon, baked beans, fried tomatoes, and tea. He was just setting everything down at the small table he reserved for his private meals when Harry wandered in, looking very much like an overgrown toddler with his fists rubbing at his eyes, in a dressing gown that was at least two sizes too large for him. Severus made a mental note to get the boy some properly fitted clothing on his next birthday.

“What time is it?” Harry asked, but stopped short when he saw the food that was being laid out. His stomach gave an audible gurgle, and Severus watched as his Omega went several different shades of red in quick succession.

“Not yet eleven. Come on, I know you barely touched your dinner last night, and I want to see you eat.” Severus sat down pointedly in one of the available chairs, and watched Harry give in almost at once and toddled over to the chair opposite, and he immediately reached for the milk, pouring enough into his tea to make it turn almost white. Severus wrinkled his nose as he further dumped a handful of sugar cubes in, then brought the ruined tea to his lips.

“What's this about? I don't think you've ever made breakfast here before,” Harry said, his voice still a little groggy, but the sugary, milky tea seemed to be perking him up.

“I would like to know what brought on the disappearing act yesterday evening, which forced me to seek you out and bring you back here after I found you asleep in the library, hiding under that infernal cloak of yours,” Severus said, his eyes narrowed in an annoyed glare. Harry did not immediately answer, and instead chose to stare into his teacup, his expression thoughtful.

“Don't make me use my Alpha Compulsion to get you to talk to me,” Severus growled, in no mood this morning for skirting around the topic he was certain had caused yesterday's theatrics.

“We're bonded, Severus,” Harry said without looking up, “your Jedi Mind Tricks won't work on me anymore, as you well know.” His mouth twitched into a small smirk, while Severus stared at the young man in confusion.

“My...what?”

“Never mind,” Harry said quickly, looking back up at Severus, his eyes still troubled, but he seemed somewhat calmer than he had mere moments before.

“I talked to my friends,” Harry began, his voice just barely above a mumble, “not about what happened specifically, but...what might have happened.” His hand strayed to his abdomen in a move that Severus was certain was unconscious as he continued, “they weren't exactly what you would call supportive, and I was just sort of...I dunno, I needed time to think so I went to the library. I wanted to think about it, but also not think about it. I didn't want Hermione finding me so I put my cloak and I tried to get some of my homework done, but I guess I fell asleep.”

Severus watched his young mate through his explanation, and was certain there was more to it than what he was telling him, but he felt that now wasn't the time to press him for more details. Vaguely, he wondered what Granger could have done that his Omega would go to such lengths to avoid her. True, she was an insufferable know-it-all, but she was generally quite good at keeping her friends from getting ahead of themselves.

“Eat,” Severus said at last, eyeing him to see if Harry might go in to further detail, but he did not say a word, and instead mechanically reached for his knife and fork. Not for the first time, Severus hoped that their dual concern was over nothing.

~*~

Severus had always read of frigid Omegas—the kind who did not feel sexual arousal at any time save for their Heats—but after their first few months together, Severus had not expected to experience it first-hand. Harry had been sensual, keen to experience all manner of pleasures of the flesh, and had more than once tried to convince Severus to let him hide under his desk to 'service' him while he taught(A tempting offer, one that pained Severus to decline).

Now however, it seemed as though Harry had experienced a complete personality transplant.

He was unnervingly quiet, his head bowed at mealtimes, and barely said two words to Severus in the mornings and evenings, virtually disappeared at weekends, and any effort to instigate sexual contact was met with a meek, “not tonight, Severus.”

After a fortnight of this attitude, Severus was quickly losing his patience with his little mate. While he nursed a glass of wine and watched the stragglers run in for a quick dinner, he was once more witness to a heated argument between Granger and Harry.

His Alpha instincts always balked at the sight, and his first response was always to separate his Omega from the offending party. Logically, he knew Harry was more than capable of dealing with her, but the urge to protect never went away—not completely. He watched as Harry snapped at her one last time, and though he was too far away to catch the words, he had to assume is was a scathing insult of some kind, as she brought her hands to her face and bolted from the Hall. Weasley snapped something at Harry and took off after her, leaving his mate alone and glaring at his untouched dinner.

Frustrated at his feeling of helplessness, and at Harry's reluctance to actually tell him what was wrong, he got up and swept from the hall. He did not make it very far however before he was intercepted by the matron. Poppy folded her arms across her chest and gave him a very nasty glare, then untangled one of her arms and pointed to the Hospital Wing's open doors.

“In. Now.”

Severus had rarely seen Poppy so furious, and did not dare argue with the Mediwitch. He followed her to the back of the infirmary and into her office, and sat down in one of the available chairs. She sat behind her desk and bowed her head, seemingly collecting her thoughts before she spoke.

“You need to talk to your bondmate,” she said, her voice tense with concern.

“Any particular reason why I need to talk to him? He has been downright miserable for the last fortnight. I may as well be sharing my bed with a doll, for all the emotional responses I get out of him,” Severus spat, ignoring the dark look of disapproval that crossed her features. Most of the staff and the students who were aware of what had transpired between them highly disapproved, but Severus did not care whether they praised their bonding or not—it was done, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“He's pregnant, Severus,” she said, giving him a glare, “and he's terrified. For goodness sake, he's eighteen. Hasn't that boy gone through enough without having to add teenage mother to the list of misfortunes in his life?”

Severus was silent, and he refocused his glare to one of her bare office walls. It hadn't been unexpected, but it was still a shock.

“You must realize it wasn't intentional,” Severus said at last, shifting his gaze back to Poppy, “I always cast the Contraception Charm. Harry had made it clear that he was not ready for children for a number of reasons, and I respected that. This...it happened after his Heat; neither of us expected this to happen.”

“Well, intentional or not, it has happened, and you need to help him deal with it. Right now he is playing the ignore it and maybe it will go away game, and someone needs to snap him out of it,” she said in an impatient, matter-of-fact tone.

“Has he said what he wants to...do?” Severus asked, uncertain whether he wanted to hear the answer.

“He has, but I believe it would be better that you discuss it with him, rather than me getting in between you two.” she levelled her gaze with Severus, and the severe look seemed to soften a little. “I know it is not easy for you, but try and be gentle with him, he is very emotionally fragile right now.”

Severus Snape did not get nervous.

It was not something Severus did. His cool confidence had kept him alive during the war, and his mask of indifference kept him from being subject to awkward emotional moments with anyone he crossed paths with.

And now Poppy was expecting him to have a talk, a real talk, one which would likely end in tears.

He sat before the fire, a fifth of Scotch whisky on the coffee table in front of him, and a tumbler of the drink balanced in his hand.

A talk.

No matter how many times he went over what Poppy had told him, and what he had been expected to discuss, he found himself still incapable of forming some kind of opinion on the matter; much less what he would do if Harry really was as fragile as Poppy claimed he was.

The soft groan of the living quarters' doors opening dragged Severus from his thoughts, and he saw Harry letting himself in, his rucksack draped over one shoulder and his head bowed forward a little. His entire body radiated his stress and panic, and Severus was furious with himself that he had not noticed it earlier.

His young man had begun to make a beeline for the bedroom door, and Severus knew he was about to miss his chance to talk.

“Harry, wait a moment.”

Harry froze, and turned to face Severus. Severus felt his stomach lurch at the near-blind panic he saw in those vibrant eyes.

“What is it, Severus?” He asked, clearly attempting for nonchalance, but the tremor in his voice utterly ruined the effect.

“Come sit with me,” Severus said, his tone making it clear that it was a command, not a request. Looking rather defeated, Harry dropped his bag by the settee, and moved to sit across from Severus, his legs tucked under him and arms across his chest, clearly trying to make himself look as small as possible.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. Severus watched him flounder for a moment before he decided to spare him the pain of trying to tell him of his affliction.

“I had a rather interesting conversation following dinner with Madam Pomfrey. Can you perhaps guess what we discussed?” Severus asked, his tone light, and he watched as all the colour drained from Harry's face. He bowed his head forward and raked his fingers through his hair, and even at a distance Severus could see that the boy was shaking.

“Severus, I—” he broke off and looked up, and Severus was startled by the fear he saw in those eyes. It was rather a new experience to see Harry Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World Potter afraid.

“Harry,” Severus said as he slid across the settee and took the boy's hands. Gentle, he reminded himself, and stared down at the trembling, terrified young man before him. “No one is asking you to continue this pregnancy.” Harry winced at the word, but for the moment Severus ignored it and pressed on. “You have options, and I said from our first discussion of it that we would not do it until you felt ready. I meant that.”

“I—I thought...” Harry trailed off and sniffed sharply, looking away from Severus as he hid himself beneath his mop of hair. When he'd composed himself, he pressed on.

“I thought you would have wanted me to keep it,” he mumbled, staring resolutely at his knees while he spoke, and the sight of the boy so miserable, so terrified pulled at Severus's heart painfully.

“It is a spark, hardly a life, not yet,” Severus said softly, pulling one of his hands from Harry's and lifted it to caress the young man's cheek. “There will be other times and many opportunities for us to start a family. You are eighteen years old, you have your whole life ahead of you. I would not ask you nor force you to become a teenage mother, especially when it is not what you want.” Severus pressed his lips into a thin line to keep the chuckle from escaping him when he saw Harry sputter at the epithet, but did not comment on it for the moment as he focused on the problem at hand.

“Severus, I—I can't. Keep it, I mean. I just—right now I can't,” Harry opened his mouth to offer up more explanations, but Severus silenced him with a kiss.

Harry threw himself at Severus, and he could feel the dampness of tears that were not his own wet his cheeks. He lifted his young man up and carried him to their bedroom, never breaking their kiss or even faltering, and the pair collapsed into bed, their clothes rumpled and half-on, half-off their bodies in their haste after such a long dry spell.

With feverish, rushed movements, they stripped each other, uncaring of the popped buttons and torn garments that soon littered the floor.

Severus broke the rough kiss and raked his teeth down the front of his Omega's chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Harry gasped, his back arching into the pain, and a shuddering moan escaped him as he grasped blindly at the duvet. Severus closed his teeth over the right erect nipple, and gave it a sharp tug. Another keening moan met the action, and he continued, licking and biting his way down Harry's chest, across his stomach, and stopping just above his painfully erect and leaking cock. The love bites were already purpling, and Severus knew they would not fade quickly.

“Severus,” Harry gasped weakly, “please,” he reached up and pulled Severus back down, their lips meeting in another rough kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving both men with pink, swollen lips.

Severus knew what his Omega needed, and he Summoned his little stone jar of lubricant.

Without the Heat to aid him, he stretched Harry manually, two slick fingers scissoring inside of Harry's clenching rectum, while Harry moaned and cried out as he bore down on the two digits.

Severus did not prepare Harry as thoroughly as he normally would have done; Harry needed the pain. This he knew, but he refused to do anything that would cause permanent damage. When he deemed Harry adequately prepared, he slicked up his cock and lifted the boy's legs, his calves draped over Severus's shoulders as he lined himself up with Harry's waiting hole.

Severus slid in smoothly, letting out a grunt of pleasure as he buried his cock in his Omega's sweet arse. At the same moment Harry let out his own cry of pleasure, tensing his muscles around his cock so deliciously that it nearly unravelled all Severus's self-control in one fell swoop. Severus bowed forward, nearly folding the boy in half as he attached his mouth to Harry's bonding mark. He began to move, the sweet, wet slaps that filled the silence the only other sound audible above their haggard breathing, Severus's grunts, and Harry's keening moans.

When Severus felt himself getting close, he reached down and closed a hand around Harry's cock, and within a few sure strokes, Harry found his release, Severus following suit a moment later, filling the boy's arse with his seed. Severus just barely managed to keep from collapsing on top of him, tumbling to the side with a soft groan as he pulled out, and drew Harry close.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Harry's soft, spent voice broke the silence, and Severus tensed an arm around him, holding him close while he reached for his wand and flicked it once to cover them both with a soft wool blanket.

“You were afraid,” Severus murmured once they'd gotten comfortable, “it is understandable. In the future however, remember that while we may have had a rocky start—” Harry snorted, not that Severus could blame him, rocky was one hell of an understatement, “—we are bound, bondmates, lovers, whatever you would like to call it. I would not force you to do something you truly did not want to do, and you can tell me what is on your mind, Harry. It is highly unlikely that I would be...unreasonable.”

“Severus Snape, that was almost sentimental,” Harry said as he grinned a little, a sleepy sort of peace in the expression that Severus had sorely missed these last two weeks.

“I have my moments,” he replied, “don't expect it to become a habit.”

~*~

The following morning, Severus escorted Harry to the Hospital Wing. For the procedure to work properly Harry had to have an empty stomach, and his Omega had been quite keen to do it without an audience.

Severus walked with a hand at Harry's back, the muscles he felt there were taut with nerves, though none of his anxiety showed on his face. Severus knew that this was the right thing to do—what Harry needed to do, but he could not help but feel slightly saddened at the loss. He'd never expected to be able to produce heirs, and losing one was difficult. Forcing Harry to carry the child to term, however, was unthinkable. He would not put his bondmate through that, no matter what he stood to lose by that decision.

“I take it you two have talked?” Poppy asked the moment the pair stepped inside of the Hospital Wing. They both nodded stiffly to her question.

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, not looking directly at her, “we're going ahead with—with what I told you about.”

“Very well, follow me,” she said, and Severus felt a little relieved at her mask of indifference. Abortion was still a touchy subject for a lot of people, and he was glad that she could see this as Harry's decision and not her place to sway it one way or the other. She turned and led them to the end of the ward, where a bed had been set up with several partitions blocking it from view. Poppy stepped aside to allow Harry to step in first, followed by Severus, then she slipped in last, re-adjusting the curtains to keep curious students or staff from peeking inside.

“Put these on, Potter,” she said, handing him a pair of hospital pyjamas and a padded pair of underwear, very similar to a woman's cut in style, which Harry eyed curiously.

“You may experience some bleeding following the procedure,” she said by way of explanation, “those are to catch the blood.”

“Um, okay,” Harry said, his voice shaking a little as she momentarily stepped outside to give him a little privacy while he changed. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, unused to the cut of the undergarments, but he offered up no complaints as Poppy stepped back inside.

“All right, Potter, lie down, this won't take long,” she said as she moved to stand alongside the bed and drew up a chair for Severus. He sat at Harry's side while he watched his expression shift quickly between nervousness and relief, and in that moment Severus knew that this would be the right decision for his young bondmate, and he felt some of his sadness at his loss leave him.

Severus took Harry's hand, and the young man shifted his grip at once in order to lace their fingers together. Poppy unbuttoned the bottom half of his pyjama top to expose his stomach; Harry had already begun to show, though not in a way anyone would notice if they did not know anything about Omega physiology. The muscle tone on Harry's abdomen was the same as it had always been, but his body had already begun to flood with estrogen in preparation for maintaining the growth inside him, and his dark body hair had begun to fade. There was a smooth and almost prepubescent look to him now, and Severus struggled to keep his expression neutral—this was what Harry needed. It was not his place to protest.

Poppy placed the tip of her wand to a spot just above Harry's navel, and the tip glowed a bright acid green. With her opposite hand, she pulled a small vial of thin bubblegum pink potion from her pocket and handed it to Harry.

“Drink this in one, Potter, it may take a few minutes to work, and we will know soon if it has been successful,” she moved as if to hand it to him, then stopped and closed her fingers around it, giving him a hard, serious look. “I want you to be absolutely sure, Potter. I am not trying to sway your decision one way or the other, but I have seen many people deeply regret the decision afterward, and there is no changing your mind once you swallow this potion.”

“I'm sure, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said at once, without the shadow of a doubt in his voice. He did not look towards Severus as he spoke, his entire focus on the matron and the potion she held.

“All right, then here you are,” she dropped the vial into his hands. Harry unstoppered it and downed it at once. Harry grimaced at the taste, and his hand tensed in Severus's as he set aside the empty vial.

Poppy stared at her green-glowing wand resting against Harry's stomach. Harry held on to Severus, and Severus was watching Harry. The silence stretched on for several long minutes, and when Severus had been on the cusp of asking what exactly Poppy was waiting for, he watched as the tip of her wand against Harry's abdomen flickered, then turned a vibrant red.

“It's done,” she said as she pulled back her wand. “I want you to stay here for a few hours, Mr Potter, to make sure that there are no side effects; that was a powerful potion you took. If you need anything, I will be in my office.” Without another word, the matron stood and stepped out, leaving the pair bond alone.

Almost immediately, Harry buried his face in his knees. “Thank God,” he murmured, his form shaking a little as his hand dislodged from Severus's to rake through his hair. When he finally sat up, his Omega had a glowing look of relief on his face, and he turned to Severus and all but threw himself at the Alpha, devouring his mouth in a fevered, rough kiss.

Startled, Severus lurched back a little from the force of it, while Harry abandoned the hospital bed completely in favour of clambering into Severus's lap.

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry whispered, his voice breathless as he broke the kiss, a look of joy and overwhelming devotion flickering in his jewel-bright eyes.

“Why are you thanking me?” Severus murmured as he reached up to card his fingers through Harry's hair, and his eyes momentarily fluttered shut at the contact. “You were the one who went through all this, not me.”

“Yes, but...” Harry paused, and gazed down at his lap, then back up to Severus, “I know you wanted this. You didn't have to say it, I could tell. I just—”

Severus cut Harry off with another kiss. He could practically taste the onslaught of guilt for not giving Severus what he so desperately wanted. For a moment, Harry seemed startled by the kiss, then eased into it slowly, as the contact shifted from hungry to tender.

“I would not want anything that would make you miserable,” Severus said softly, his tone even, “Yes, we are bondmates, and yes, I would have wanted this,” Severus paused to study Harry's expression and the flash of guilt that crossed his features, “but not at the expense of your happiness and freedom. You're not ready to be a mother—”

“—Father.”

“I beg your pardon?” Severus cocked a brow, uncertain why his young mate was suddenly turning a rather delightful shade of magenta.

“You, Madam Pomfrey, you keep calling me a mother,” Harry shifted uncomfortably as he spoke, “I may be an Omega-whatever, but I'm still a man. That would make me a father, not a mother.”

Severus watched his young mate, still so innocent when it came to the inner workings of wizarding culture. He pondered whether he should try and explain to him that no, technically, he was not a man, but after all he'd been through over the last fortnight, Severus decided that that conversation could wait for another day. He pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's temple.

“All right then, Father. You were not ready to be a parent, and it would not be fair to have this thrust upon you.”

“You know what, Severus Snape?” Harry asked, still perched in his lap and grinning wildly.

“What?”

“I love you,” Harry said with a brilliant smile, though before Severus could formulate a response, his little mate kissed him.

Severus was somewhat startled by the ferocity of the kiss, and somewhat reluctantly he pulled back before it could get too heated, as he did not think Harry would be in any condition for a good fucking—at least for the next few hours.

“Perhaps you can get back into bed and relax,” Severus began, lifting his hand again to stroke that thick, perpetually untidy mop of his, “and tell me what is going on between you and those two hellions you call your friends.” He arched a brow while Harry frowned a little at the prompt. He opened his mouth as though to argue, then grimaced as he slid reluctantly from Severus's lap and back into bed. Harry got under the covers but stayed sitting up, his expression thoughtful.

“The short version is they believed that you forced me into what...happened. I mean, they never expected us to bond,” Harry cradled his chin in his hand and stared despondently at the white linens. “I don't know what was going through their heads during my first Heat when they brought me to you, but it seemed like they assumed you'd fuck me and then dump me or something. When they saw that you and I were bound, they freaked. Hermione assumed you forced me, and Ron agreed with her, and they got even more pissy when I moved in with you. Like...I have no idea what they actually expected to happen, but Hermione's been acting like it's some big scandalous thing, and Ron it just sort of...well, Ron. He's being a right foul git, calling you all sorts of things...” Harry trailed off and sighed.

“I've been trying to fix things with them,” he continued, still fixing his gaze firmly upon the bedsheets as he picked at a loose thread, “but just when I thought they were getting to be okay with everything, this,” Harry waved his hand significantly between them, “happened. They think you pushed me into it, and now all we ever do is bicker. It's exhausting.”

“Do you believe your friendship is worth saving, if they're going to cause you this much stress?” Severus spoke gently, getting more used to doing such a thing the more he practised it with his mate. He had expected some kind of verbal explosion at the words, but instead Harry laughed bitterly.

“Honestly? I don't know anymore,” Harry stared miserably at the thin duvet that covered him, never lifting his gaze, and Severus could not recall ever seeing his Omega looking so depressed. The fact that it was his so-called friends causing him this pain filled Severus with rage. Those three had been inseparable since their first year, and now they decide to make his mate miserable, instead of supporting him? He didn't understand it.

Severus had little experience with friends. He lost that when Lily chose Potter over their friendship, and he had been a solitary man ever since. Harry was much more social than he ever had been; to live without his friends would be torturous for him. Severus had no idea how to advise him, and instead watched as with another sigh his little mate lay down and looked up at Severus once before removing his glasses and setting them on the bedside table.

“I think I'll rest a bit, Pomfrey wasn't kidding about that potion being strong,” he said in that same unfamiliar, soft tone. Severus reached out a tentative hand and brushed his thumb across Harry's cheek.

“I'll be here.”

The Alpha watched his mate until he was certain that he was asleep, then after pressing a light kiss to his temple he stood and slipped out of the partition to stretch his legs and hopefully clear his troubled mind.

Unfortunately, it would seem that the Fates did not allow for a man like Severus Snape to rest, as at that same moment, Granger and Weasley burst into the Hospital Wing. They both skidded to a halt however when they caught sight of Severus, and he scowled at the pair.

Granger did not seem intimidated by his scowl, and instead puffed out her chest as though she was trying to appear bigger and more important than she actually was. Severus raised an eyebrow at the girl's feeble attempts at intimidation, and instead pointed at the door.

“Out,” he growled, keeping his voice low so as to not awaken his bondmate. When Granger opened her mouth to argue, he elaborated, “my mate has been through a great deal over the last two weeks, thanks in no small part to you two betraying his trust rather spectacularly. He needs to rest. You will say what you need to say outside.”

Granger seemed especially incensed by Severus's use of the word mate in lieu of Harry's name, but she seemed to be saving her explosion for the passageway outside. Severus crossed his arms and glared down his nose at the pair. It was no surprise that Granger spoke up first.

“Professor, how could you do that to Harry? How could you force him into...into...this?”

“I do not recall forcing Mr Potter into anything, Miss Granger. Perhaps you might be a little more specific as to what, pray, I forced him into?”

“This whole relationship thing!” She sputtered angrily, while Weasley took a minor step back, looking troubled. “I thought you would help him, I didn't think you would—”

“—I would what, exactly, Miss Granger? Bond with him, fuck him? He is of age, and who Harry chooses to bond with is quite simply none of your business. Because I know you have the mindset of a bear trap, I will inform you of this: I did not force, suggest, or otherwise coerce your young boy-hero into anything. When his Heat was over, he asked for it. I was all too happy to bind one such as him to myself. As for our recent difficulties that he has no doubt shared with you, that was an accident. Do you seriously think that Mr Potter is the type to be manipulated into anything, after all he endured during the war, after all he'd been asked to sacrifice? Do you really know your friend at all, or are you merely two more leeches, hanging onto the coattails of his fame?”

Granger looked as though she'd been slapped, and Weasley's eyes were all but bulging out of their sockets.

“Sir, that's not fair,” Weasley began, though Severus was rather pleased that he was still able to incite some level of intimidation in the lollygagging ginger. He remained silent while he waited for Weasley to continue. “We're worried about Harry. We didn't think—I mean, we thought taking him to an Alpha would be better than having Madam Pomfrey sedate him for three straight days and after everything we didn't think you'd take advant—”

“Were you not listening to a statement I made not a full minute ago, Weasley, or is your skull too thick for even the simplest of concepts to penetrate it? Harry asked for it. Why would I deny him—or myself the pleasure of doing so? Do you have any genuine reason to believe that Harry is being abused at my hands, or is this the same unfounded prejudice against me that your house seems all too happy to cling to?”

“We saw marks—” Granger began, but Severus would not hear it.

“He left as many upon me as I did on him, I assure you,” Severus replied, and took a moment to bask in the highly entertaining looks of horror and disgust that filled their faces. Who needed Quidditch when unnerving Gryffindors was so much easier?

“Y-you made him carry your—” Granger tried again, though her accusatory tone began to waver.

“I never made him carry anything. It was an accident, you stupid girl. Have you not been listening? An accident. I left it up to Harry whether or not to keep it, and he chose to terminate it. You are his friends. After all you two have put him through of late I have no idea why he would still consider either of you worthy of his time, but he claims that you two are that to him. That is the only reason I am telling you two any of this. As far as I'm concerned, my private life with Harry is not for anyone to judge, and certainly not you two.

“Harry has never been one to take abuse from people, as I'm sure you know,” Severus continued, his voice shifting from anger to a smooth, even tone close to his 'professor voice'. “But with you two, he has done so. After everything my mate has been through, enough is enough. If I see either of you give him any more trouble regarding our bonding, you will be very sorry indeed.” He paused to allow the words to sink in, and for them to realize that he was not bluffing. They would only be students for a few more months. If he chose to hex them for giving Harry difficulties after that, he would not be at risk for losing his job. “Get out of my sight.”

The pair scarpered, and Severus took a moment to marvel at the level of courage the two Gryffindors seemed to possess.

~*~

Three hours later, Madam Pomfrey deemed Harry free to go.

“But,” she said sternly as Harry jumped from the cot, “if you have any abdominal cramping or rectal bleeding, I want you to come straight here. Is that understood, Mr Potter?”

“Yes, miss,” he said with a small smile, “I promise.”

Severus watched as Harry stripped out of the hospital garments the moment Poppy left them alone, clearly eager to get back into his own clothes, only to freeze as he removed the strange pants he'd been asked to wear. Severus could understand the reaction, for as Harry pulled them down (exposing his delightfully perky bottom) Severus could see that they had been dotted with dark blood. It was barely a small splatter, but Severus could see the shade of Harry's skin balance precariously between a terrified white and a sickly green at the sight of it.

Harry did not say a word as he wadded the garment up and buried it inside the hospital pyjamas. It was quite clear that he was not keen to discuss it, and Severus watched as he rushed into his jumper and denims, then grasped one of Severus's hands in both of his.

“Can we go, please? I'm starving,” Harry said, still carrying that soft, uncharacteristic tone of voice that deeply unsettled him.

“We can take tea in our quarters if you like,” he replied, keeping his voice low. Severus felt a warmth pool in his belly at the sight of the brilliant smile that spread across his mate's features at the suggestion.

Uncaring that the halls were teeming with students and staff, he escorted his little mate through the halls and down to the dungeons, ignoring the blatant stares the pair of them received from walking through the passageways hand in hand. Severus was more pleased still by the jealous glares the few Alphas that occupied the school shot him, young Mr Malfoy included. In those instances, he wrapped an arm possessively around Harry's waist, though his Omega seemed ignorant to the expressions that the other Alphas shot in his direction.

There was a distinct bounce in Harry's step that had been absent during the last fortnight, and he seemed incapable of wiping the relieved smile off his face. The good mood continued through their small meal, the rest of the day, and well into the evening.

Exhausted by the day's events, Harry was asleep quickly, curled up next to his Alpha, entirely at peace. Severus lay awake a while longer, watching his mate sleep, and occasionally brushing his fingers over the soft skin of Harry's cheek. The ghost of a smile spread over his thin lips as he observed the young man, and he knew in that moment with absolute certainty that yes, he had made the right decision in letting Harry go forward with the procedure.

There will be many opportunities to start a family, this Severus knew. It did not begin and end with this one moment.

They were only getting started.

-Fin

If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks in my Tip Jar! or become a patron on Patreon for my upcoming original horror novel, Keep Looking.

#snarry #omegaverse #harry potter slash

4 notes · View notes