steviewashere @steviewashere - Tumblr Blog

Jun 2

Summer Bug

Rating: Explicit CW: Omegaverse, MPreg, Minor Vomiting Tags: Post-Canon, Established Steddie, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Domestic Steddie, Fluff, Parents Steddie, Intersex Omegas, Omega Eddie Munson, Alpha Steve Harrington, Scenting, Food During Sex, Kitchen Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Mentions of Masturbating, Dialogue Heavy Also on AO3 (Full Tag List on AO3)

💕—————💕 First Trimester

It starts with his scent.

Eddie likes to believe that, typically, he puts out crackling firewood and freshly ground cinnamon; something warm and comfortable. And, yeah, Steve usually assures that he does. That their scents blend perfectly—Steve’s being something akin to cedar wood smoked fresh with an undertone of herbals; as if he’s gearing to make a great, savory dinner for the two of them.

Though, in the middle of October, 1994, it all just…shifts. For one, they’re no longer in the dangers and thralls of Hawkins. Having moved into their own two bedroom apartment in Chicago. Things are different and new. And, suddenly, things with him are new, too.

They’re cozied on the couch, watching their endless freebie horror movies from Family Video, Eddie leaning into Steve’s side, Steve’s arm thrown over the couch. And then his alpha sniffs, and sniffs, and sniffs.

“Did you get some kind of patch for your gland, Eds?”

He scrunches his eyebrows at the question. “No,” Eddie responds slowly, narrowing his eyes at Steve. “Am I smelling weird?”

Steve shrugs minutely. “I don’t know…not really, I guess. Just…different.” He sniffs again. Big and deep and sharp through his nostrils. There’s a flicker in his eyes like a newborn flame. Pupils dilating, but then resting. “Whatever it is,” he murmurs, “I really like it.”

Eddie quirks his left brow. Playfully, “Didn’t like my scent before?”

Affronted, “No! I mean”—Steve squeaks. His eyes are large on his face, wide and nervous. That deep pouty frown of his coming out to match. “No, I didn’t say that! You just—It’s sweet! Like…like you got into some sort of vanilla perfume or something. It, uh, it works, though. With the whole…whole campfire thing you already have?” Awkwardly, Steve leans into Eddie’s space, jutting his face directly against the scent gland on his neck. Inhaling—deeply.

“Will you quit it?” Eddie chuckles. Flippantly, “It’s probably almost my heat or something. You know that they’ve got kind of a mind of their own.”

Against Eddie’s skin, Steve garbles, “You don’t smell like this when it’s time.” He abruptly pulls away, sits back up, and makes firm, uncomfortable eye contact. “It’s milky, too,” Steve remarks, “like formula kind of milky.”

Dumbly, though Eddie can’t really smell his true scent—only his alpha can manage that—he brings the collar of his t-shirt up to his nose, where his scent gland has been rubbing against it all day. And he tries to pick up whatever Steve is putting down. But at the scent of lavender, something only their laundry detergent puts out, Eddie shakes his head and huffs. Comments, “Maybe you’regetting close to your rut.”

Steve chuffs at him and rolls his eyes. “Don’t treat me like I’m a dumb mutt, Eds. I know what I’m smelling.”

“Hey,” Eddie coos sweetly. “I didn’t say you’re dumb and I’m not trying to brush off what you’re noticing. But, baby, my hormones may just be out of whack, okay? Happens all the time right before my heat.” He strokes a hand down the back of Steve’s neck, nestling his fingers between the bumps of spine, relishing in the shiver that rattles against his skin. “When I was in high school, like start of my presentation, Wayne used to say that I’d start smelling like marshmallows. It just…this stuff happens. Don’t be worried, sweetheart.”

“But”—Steve pouts, truly pouts—“you don’t smell like marshmallows for me before your heat.”

Eddie chuckles deep and rumbly. Swipes his hand away from Steve’s neck, only to bring it up and caress the jut of his bottom lip. “No, I guess I don’t. But maybe it’s just coming back or something. Nothing is wrong. I’m not wearing a patch. No new perfumes. Not doing anything different, swear on my life.”

Draping his arm across Eddie’s back, Steve pulls them together to cuddle. Tight and warm. Grumbly purring at the base of his chest, reverberating through the both of them. Softly, “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? Just in case this could be related to something from ’86?”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie murmurs, resting his right hand against Steve’s chest. He pets at it, massaging his fingers into where purrs are emanating. “I promise I’m as healthy as I can be right now. But thank you for being concerned, alpha. You’re so sweet on me.”

That gets him a happy sigh, which he soaks in.

Though, his mind has started to jog.

Steve is a very, very perceptive alpha. He has a secret sixth sense for those closest to him. If something has shifted, or somebody has changed, or the feel of a room is just off—leave it to Steve to clue it out. He came to Eddie when his ears—sharp and focused—picked up on the distant, curdling cries from Dustin, and he carried even faster when his nose flared with the sharp, sour scent of distressed pup. If it weren’t for Steve’s observances, Eddie probably wouldn’t be sitting on this couch right now.

He supposes he’ll just have to pay closer attention to himself for the next little while. Unless Steve finds something first—though maybe he already has.

——— Steve makes scrambled eggs for breakfast three mornings later.

“What’s that face for?” Is the first thing out of his mouth when he hands Eddie his plate.

Eddie swallows hard—it tastes like bitter bile. “Don’t know,” he mutters, “just not hungry for this, I guess.” Even though the smell is throwing him in the wrong direction, Eddie still picks up his fork, jabs at a few rubbery pieces of egg, and brings it up to his lips. And then he smells them again. Physically, he harshly recoils, dropping the fork to his plate. “Eugh,” he chokes out, “yuck.”

“Hey!” Steve snaps lightly. The offense doesn’t mean too much, though. There’s a teasing, soft smile playing at his lips. “You usually like my cooking, what gives?”

“We don’t have anything else that I can eat?” Eddie asks. “These smell like…like feet to me right now. I don’t…I don’t…”—he has to swallow around more bile and grimaces at the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth—“…I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stomach this.”

Frowning, Steve takes the plate back towards the kitchen. When he returns, it’s with buttered bread and a banana. His voice is tender and gentle when he checks in. “Is this better?”

Well, neither smell like feet or garbage or sewage, so Eddie just nods. Something is better than nothing, he supposes.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs. He finally sits down across from Eddie at their dining table. There’s concern etched harshly into his features—creasing his eyebrows, frown hard on his face. “You think maybe you picked up the flu? Do’ya’think that’d make you smell different?”

Eddie sighs. He begins to peel his banana—the thing that looks the most appetizing. Around a mushy bite, he says, “If I had the flu, trust me, I’d be way worse.”

Steve gives him a flat look. “Y’think I don’t know how bad you get when you’re sick? It’s like trying to get a dog to take a pill,” he deadpans.

“Look—Babe, I appreciate your concern—even though you’re jabbing at my poor, poor sick self”—he astutely ignores the eye roll that Steve throws his way—“but I would definitely know if I had the flu. Could just be that my appetite is shot or somethin’. Sometimes that happens when I eat in the morning.”

“What—Eddie, why didn’t you tell me that?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t seem important. Guess I made the wrong assumption that everybody gets nauseous in the morning.”

“Jeez,” Steve sighs. “Well, tell me if the nausea gets worse, okay? If anything else weird pops up, I’m gonna drag you to the doctor.”

“Alpha, you’re worrying over nothing, I promise. I’ve just got some weird non-omega quirks, purely just Eddie Munson being the freak”—At the last little bit of his banana, he squirms in his seat. The mushy, brown-black spotted end is staring up at him as if it were beating, bloody, raw meat. Alive and ugly. He makes a face at it and promptly pushes away the rest of the food Steve gave him.

“Ed, you need to”—

“Feel like ‘m gonna hurl,” he mutters, covering his lips with his left hand. His eyes are probably bugging out of his head, staring down their godawful floral table runner. The damn thing that Steve insisted on because it was so pretty. Eddie thinks he may be looking down one of those mind puzzle geometry fucks from those books at the library—swirling and melting and, once again, alive in a way it shouldn’t be. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. Sighs shortly through his nose. Muffled, “It’s gotta be my heat. Must be a bad one.”

“A bad one?” Steve incredulously questions, “what constitutes as a bad one, Eds?”

Eddie gags, swallows around too much saliva, and tightens his fingers around his mouth. His other hand drifts to his stomach, massaging at it when it gives a phantom cramp. “Steve,” he gasps, “fuck…I think…”—

Before he can even try to finish the sentence, Steve darts away from the table, a mess of clumsy limbs and half-thrown curses. He comes back shortly, however, with a garbage can scraping against the floor. There’s a hand at the back of Eddie’s head, hefting the weight of his stupidly long hair. And then—

There’s the banana. And the water from last night. And his popcorn from hours prior. Shit.

“You’re alright,” Steve shakily murmurs. His right hand is petting along Eddie’s spine. Up and down in slow, soothing strokes. “I’ll getcha water in a minute. Just gotta power through”—he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale and a pained groan. “Oh my—Eddie, your scent is”—

Must be overpowering, whatever it smells like.

He can’t really tell, though, not with the smell of the garbage can under his nose.

Steve staggers at it, though. Tightens his hand in Eddie’s hair. His own scent coming out in little micro-bursts of burnt, charred, choking wood. Distressed alpha.

When Eddie is finally able to sit back up, Steve wipes his face. Lets down his hair. Pushes the can to the side.

“I don’t know what happened,” Eddie mutters nasally—throwing up always makes him tear up, sometimes also full on sob. It’s a bad habit he probably won’t break out of. “Just overcame me.”

“Your scent was…was rotten,” Steve comments, horrified, “like curdled milk kind of rotten.”

Eddie sniffles. “Maybe I am sick? I wanna go back to bed.”

“Yeah…yeah, okay,” Steve whispers, “is there anything you need before laying back down?”

“Water. The can. Um…”—he blinks and, though he thought he lost them, fat tears come streaming down his face. Eddie hastily wipes at his cheeks, curling slightly into himself. God, he’s a mess. Small, “I want you to cuddle me?”

“You sure?”

“Mhm…mmm…yeah, please. Didn’t realize how shitty I felt until right now.” He shutters a breath. “I know my heat’s supposed to happen in a few days. If…if I get really, really bad, we’ll go to the doctor. ‘Cause I know you’re stressed, alpha. But, I dunno, maybe my next heat is gonna be stupidly bad? Like more cramping and sick than horny and insatiable.”

Carefully, Steve pulls him up from the chair. They have to hold onto each other as he stands back to his full height; Eddie staggers on his clumsy feet, knocking his forehead right into Steve’s. He lets go of Steve’s hands for a moment, instead wrapping his arms around his waist. Whining low under his breath when a cramp tries to work through him.

Steve pets his hands down Eddie’s back. Tries to pump out calming pheromones, but they seem to be at war with whatever sour scent is coming off of Eddie—distressed and sharp and curdling. “‘Mega, you’ve gotta come back down to me,” he murmurs, “I can’t reach you.”

“I can’t,” Eddie whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ nauseous.”

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “c’mon, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

Even though it makes it more difficult to travel between rooms, they don’t let go of each other. There’s a charge buzzing and flittering and nervous between them. And the sounds shared between each other—whimpers and whines and panted huffs of fear—it doesn’t help. When Eddie’s reclined on their bed, Steve takes the time to find a rubber band and wrap Eddie’s hair into a ponytail. He dotes: setting out a package of wet wipes on Eddie’s nightstand, a tall glass of water, some mint chewing gum, and the garbage can perched. The bag’s been changed, too—which Eddie is ever grateful for.

Eddie watches Steve climb back into bed with tired, hazy eyes. “Don’t you have work?” he croaks.

“I’m gonna call out,” he responds, tucking himself under the blanket, pushing himself close to Eddie’s side. “You’ve never been sick like this before. I’m just—My, like, inner-alpha is panicking. I can’t just leave you by yourself.”

Cautiously, Eddie turns over to face Steve. It’d probably be better if he weren’t facing the inside of the bed—considering his designated puke bucket for the day is standing behind him—but the sheen in Steve’s eyes makes him settle in his decision. He pets a hand through Steve’s hair, tenderly holding him at the back of his head. “You wanna do your checklist? Would that help if I told you exactly how I’m feeling?”

Steve, eagerly, nods. Begins with, “Does your head hurt?”

“No, but I’m a little lightheaded. Still collecting my bearings from puking.” He gets a kiss to the center of his forehead—a quick, firm, panicked smack.

And as Steve asks him about every part of his body, Eddie earns a little kiss to each one. At his stomach, Steve runs a warm hand over the expanse of it, rubbing with little airy circles to try and coax it into being rested and at ease. He helps Eddie turn over when there’s more puke to come up. Wipes his mouth and his chin, caresses his cheeks and rubs away tears, checks for a fever and inspects every last little pore as if something could be revealed from all the nitpicking. Nothing changes in this. Not their sour scents, molding the very air around them. The pained stomach cramps don’t let up. And Eddie keeps vomiting whatever little traces of food and drink he still has in his body.

“Electrolytes,” Steve suddenly says. There’s a deep, cutting edge to his voice now. His breathing is going erratic between the two of them. Hands nervous in their pursuit, flapping out in front of him, patting Eddie down where Steve believes is needed. “Remind me to call…call…call—fuck, I don’t know. We need somebody to bring by some Gatorade. That should…that should help, right? If we keep you hydrated? Maybe you’re dehydrated? Maybe you’re blood sugar is low? That can happen, right? And it can make you puke? We should get one of the glucose meters and the…the glucose tablets, yeah? Have somebody bring it all over—I can pay them back. I can”—

“Alpha,” Eddie huffs tiredly. He tries to put something firm in the way he says it. A command to quiet. It’s weak, but it works. “Steve, I need you to take a deep breath.”

“Do you think it’s a med”—

“Deep breath,” he lightly demands. At the first, grand seven seconds of inhale—“Good, there we go,” Eddie praises. “The Gatorade could be good, but Pedialyte might be better. I’ve had three glasses of water since I woke up this morning—that was three hours ago. That banana I had should be enough to keep my blood sugar up and afloat for right now. I promise you, Steve, if something is seriously wrong, you would know about”—

“But something is,” Steve stresses, “there’s something wrong now, Eddie!” He’s kneeled down on the ground at Eddie’s feet. Hair wild from pulling and pushing at it. Fists tight on his thighs, squeezing impossibly tighter. “In all my years of knowing and loving you, you have never been sick like this. It’s scaring me,” he admits in a hushed voice. He angles his head down, eyes darted away from Eddie’s face. “I’m trying my best here, okay? I know the rambling isn’t helpful. I just—Eddie, I don’t know what to do.”

Eddie sighs, deflating into himself once again. He unfurls his left hand from the lip of the garbage can, pushing it straight into Steve’s hair. Fingers scratching against scalp. There’s a weak, kicking purr that pulls from the center of Steve’s chest, but it’s crackly and croaky and sad. “You’re doing great at taking care of me,” Eddie says, no trace of malice in his tone. “Alpha, you are being so considerate and you are being so sweet and you are putting yourself right where you need to. I know that this is freaking you out, I’m sorry. If I’m still throwing up tonight, unable to keep anything down, then you can take me to the hospital. Even if you have to drag me kicking and screaming—we will go, understood?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve rasps. “Are you—Is there anything”—frustrated, he huffs—“how are you right now?”

“Think I’m ready to lay back down,” he answers, “I really want to be cuddled right now.”

Eddie falls back asleep for the majority of their morning, head nestled in the space between Steve’s pecs. When he awakes, the nausea has cleared, his appetite has returned tenfold, and he’s ready for the rest of the day.

Steve drops it, for now. He returns to work the following morning. And Eddie makes a point to hide the nausea that swamps him over the days that come—Steve’s done enough worrying on his end, and if Eddie showed any signs of unrest and malaise, then something was going to be done about it. If they can afford to avoid a hospital visit, though, that’s excellent.

Even if he gets tired of the puke a week into it.

——— Eddie enters their bedroom in nothing but his underwear, fisting his jeans between his hands. “Did you run these through the dryer again? Steve, I thought I told you to ask me first.”

Sitting on their bed, fully clothed, ready to lace-up his sneakers, Steve startles and turns to face him. His eyes dart to the jeans, then the entirety of Eddie’s near-naked body. “I haven’t dried any of your clothes. Not since last time.”

He scoffs. Yeah, last time. When half of his band t-shirts came back wrinkled, some of them a size smaller than before—it took some time and constant rotations where he wore them, stretched them at the hem, and pointedly didn’t wash them, but they returned back to normal. The thing is, though, is that it took a godawful long time to get the shirts back to their previous state. He’d rather not do that again. And with jeans? Somebody might as well just peel his skin off—that’d be better torture.

“They’re tight on my stomach,” Eddie snippily comments, “you must’ve screwed something up. Had to have.”

Steve flares his nostrils and chuff-growls. “What crawled up your ass this morning?”

“Well, certainly not you.” He tosses the jeans onto their carpeted floor, stepping around them to get to the dresser. Through some wiggling, he frees one of the drawers, and begins rummaging for his tried and true sweatpants. Surely they’ll work. They have to. “Feels like you’ve been avoiding getting intimate with me like that since my scent got all sweet and weird.”

Bitterly, Steve asks, “You trying to accuse me of something, Eddie?”

“Does it sound like I am?”

There’s a sharp tongue click behind him. When he spots a glance, Steve’s rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you stop getting huffy at me? I didn’t do anythingto your precious eight year old jeans.”

He digs up his sweatpants right in that moment, hastily working to wriggle them up his legs. “I’ll stop getting huffy when you start touching”—Eddie cuts himself off with a grunt. The sweatpants are sitting over his stomach now. Drawstrings hang limp against his crotch. But—Jesus Christ. He pinches at the little pooch that spills over the waistband. “Have I gotten fat? I look—I’ve definitely gained some weight, right?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, rolls his lips against his teeth, and shrugs. “How do you want me to respond to that, Eddie? I feel like you’re trying to trap me here.”

“Will you just—oh my fucking god. Have I or have I not put on some weight? Be honest.”

Eyes rake him up and down. “Um…maybe, uh, a couple pounds?” Steve responds nervously. “Your appetite is healthy again, so…I don’t know, Eds, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s something to worry about if I can’t fit into my pants, Steve,” he states bluntly. “Maybe if you didn’t bend to every single one of my cravings, then”—

“Oh, you are so not putting this all on me. I’m just trying to take care of my mate, that’s all I’m doing in this,” Steve spits. “I have done nothing wrong here”—

“You’ve been acting on your fuckin’ alpha instincts for weeks! Being all cagey and overprotective and so suffocatingly nurturing. Surely the way you’ve been doting has had some impact”—

Steve stands abruptly from their bed. Rising, looming, and leering. He points a straight, aggressive finger at Eddie. “I’ve just been taking care of you. If that’s wrong, then maybe I should just stop,” he growls. His voice goes tight and grinding. “When we started courting, I told myself that I’d be there for you no matter what. If that includes fulfilling those weird fucking cravings you’ve been getting, then so be it. I happen to think you look just fine with the added pounds—in fact, Eddie, I’ve barely noticed a difference. You want something done about it—screw my help, go on and do it yourself.” With a final chuff, Steve strides past Eddie and right out their bedroom door.

The distant sound of the front door slamming leaves Eddie shocked and frozen to the carpet.

Okay, yeah, he’s been in a crappy mood all morning. He’s man enough to own up to that now. And, sure, he’s been taking it out on Steve. Though, if anybody else were here, he’d probably hash it with them, too.

It’s just—

His appetite’s been gross and weird—from the food, to the insane amount he’s been eating, the ups and downs of his persistent nausea. And his clothes are fitting in all sorts of different ways, ways that don’t flatter his figure at all. He’s emotional over everything: a paper with an accidental rip in it, the food in the fridge being shrouded in darkness ninety percent of the time, the same unchanged ending in The Outsiders, a squirrel eating a peanut in the park, a small pup at the grocery store nervously holding their parents’ hands, and the way Steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles—it all makes him so teary eyed and ridiculous looking, no matter how much his alpha tries to reassure him it’s okay. Not to mention that his heat is late and—

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” he realizes aloud, “my heat is late.”

As swift as he can, Eddie tosses on one of Steve’s t-shirts—for the extra bit of room that his own won’t provide—and charges himself down their apartment’s steps. Right at the bottom stair, he finds Steve sitting, head in his hands, shoulders trembling. There are stuttered hiccups coming from him. When he glances up to the commotion that Eddie causes, it’s with tears sitting tacky on his cheeks.

“Are you out here to snap at me again?” Steve croakily questions. His voice shakes in its timber, ready to come barreling down as a mere shadow of its former self. He sniffles, smears his palms messily over his cheeks, and lets out a shuddery sigh. “I’m sorry if I upset”—

Eddie grabs for Steve’s hands, wrapping them in his own. “My heat’s late,” he rushes out. “Steve”—aside himself, he whips a sharp, shocked laugh—“my heat is fucking late. ‘M not…I’m not sick! I’m”—

“Your heat is…are you—do you think”—Steve looks at him with wide, teary eyes. Owlishly blinking. He huffs a disbelieving chuckle, the realizations hitting him all at once—“you’re—Oh my god, Eds. We have to—The pharmacy they should have—Are you sure? You aren’t trying to get my hopes up, right?”

He astutely shakes his head. “No, baby, think about it! Th-the scent change, the morning sickness, my appetite being out of whack, my fuckin’ wild emotions, that little pooch I have now—All of it, Stevie, all of it! I’m—I have to be!”

“My omega’s pregnant?” Steve whispers. Gently, he loosens his left hand from their shared grasp and reaches it out towards Eddie’s stomach—he only holds his palm there, lightly. It’s shaking. “I…I’m gonna be a dad? Really?”

Meeting Steve’s gaze, Eddie softens. Careful as he speaks. “Y-yeah, sweetheart, I think y’are. We’re gonna be parents. Have our own little pup. Is that—Isn’t that great?”

Steve’s hands tremble heavier. Tears streaming down his face—not fast, though; slow, almost as if they aren’t there at all. He gasps and huffs and laughs incredulously. “It’s…it’s amazing, are you kidding? I mean—Do you—Is this—Omega, do you want to do this? I mean, I know we’ve been mated for a while and we’ve got the spare bedroom—It’s an office now, but we can turn it into—And our money—We should—The interest on my savings, it should be enough. I think we can do this, but do you”—

Eddie can’t take it anymore. Without so much as a warning, he wrestles Steve’s face between his palms and kisses him soundly, messily, passionately. He can taste the saltiness of tears, the mint on Steve’s tongue, the traces of bitter black coffee. Their scents waft, spreading between them nearly cloying with sugar and the caramel ribbons of their favorite ice cream. He breaks away from it when he can’t catch his breath.

Panting, he can only stare at Steve in complete wonder. Something caught between wanderlust and marvel. He smiles, splitting his own face the way a s’more would be broken, stretchy—melting. Finally, after a long moment, he gathers his words. “Are you kidding?” Eddie softly says, “of course I want to do this. I want to do this with you, Steve. You—Baby, you’re the alpha of my dreams. Nobody else I’d rather do this with.”

Steve, for all his quiet, soft crying, bursts with a sob. Squeaky, “Me too,” he says, “I was thinking maybe this was why you were—I didn’t think it could be true. My—The dream, Eds, my dream.” Hastily, Steve palms his cheeks again to wipe away his tears. Chuckles at the shine left on his hands. “We’re gonna be parents,” he murmurs, awed. “We should—I really want you to take a test, just in case. I don’t want us to be wrong about this.”

“Do you want to drive?”

A snotty, deep inhale. Then, “My inner alpha doesn’t want you to do it. Are you serious? You drive like other people don’t exist.”

“I drive like that because I have things to do. People to see. An alpha to love.”

Steve snorts. “Very charming,” he notes. “But, seriously, it’s making me nervous thinking about you and a potential pup being behind the wheel. Let me protect you, omega? Or is that—I don’t want to suffocate you.”

Eddie pets his hands through Steve’s soft, tussled hair. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispers sweetly, “you don’t suffocate me at all. I was just—I don’t know. You’re instincts were responding to a possible pregnancy. I can’t punish you for that.”

“But we don’t even know if that’s the case”—

“I want you to drive,” Eddie firmly states. “I want you to protect your pack. And I want you right by my side the rest of our lives. Because you are going to be such a good father, just based on how you already take care of me. I trust you. I want you.” He runs his hands down the sides of Steve’s face, his neck, squeezing at his shoulders. “Look after me,” he murmurs—a light, curling command—“even if that means I don’t drive for a while.”

“You can drive, Eds. I just don’t want you to be hurt or…or worse”—

“Alpha,” he purrs. The concerned, folded lines of Steve’s face begin to relax—his response to the soothing pheromones Eddie is pushing between them; finally working. “Drive me to the store, please. And, um, can we stop for burritos somewhere? I have a craving.”

Steve sighs slowly through his nose, fully relaxing into himself. He’s smiling to himself, soft and small. “Let’s go, Eds,” he whispers, pulling them up from the stairs, “I’ll roll the window down, too, okay? In case the morning sickness gets the best of you.”

“Always so attuned to me, alpha. You’re so good to me.”

“You’re good to me, too.”

Eddie holds Steve’s hands, squeezes them. He brings them up to his lips, then, and kisses his fingertips. Murmurs, “Only the best for my mate.”

——— “How the fuck do I piss on this thing?” Eddie mutters, holding the unpackaged pregnancy test in his hand. The box says to pee on it. Should he—Does he hold it while he’s sitting down? Maybe get a cup to urinate into—that’s how it usually goes at a doctor’s office, right? Would it mess up the results somehow if Steve came into the bathroom and held Eddie’s penis for him? He flips the little cardboard box over in his hands again, clenching the pregnancy test tight between his fingers.

Results in five minutes, it reads.

That feels too short.

Did he even grab the right one?

There had been an absolute wall of tests at the pharmacy. Some of them in dark blue, flimsy, foil baggies. Others in bright pink, eye straining, tiny boxes. The one he grabbed came with more than just one, the box is indeed pink—as if all omegas are feminine in that way; and also, why does it matter if the box is pink, right? It still cost him more than he liked just for the extra sticks, now he has to worry about the whole pink box debacle? One of the other people in the aisle had recommended it to him—were they an insider? Working for the test company? Making a profit out of his obliviousness?

He took it anyway. And Steve had read the directions over and over and over again just to make sure everything was done right. That he knew what they were getting themselves into.

It seemed easier in the car, with the receipt still crinkling in their hands. Less daunting.

Less real.

The thing is, Eddie’s excited. He is. They want pups—multiple. Even though Steve told him, “If this is the only time you want to do this, I won’t be upset with your decision, omega. If you choose that you don’t want to do this at all, I’ll support you one hundred percent.” All in the car. With the radio tinny and quiet. They talked about abortion. They talked about potential complications—as if that was to help Eddie’s nerves; but he supposes it did, in a way, just in case something went dastardly wrong. And the whole changes that will be made to Eddie’s body along the way.

He’ll gain weight, obviously—that’s already happening, but he’s not as upset as he thought he’d be. It’s normal. But being unable to fit in his favorite pants is sort of annoying. The morning sickness was another. Miserable. Awful. They’ll have to find ways over the next couple weeks to lessen the worst of it. His center of gravity will change. There’ll be stretch marks—unless he uses a ton of slimy, repulsive lotion. Cravings. Favorite scents might change. Mood swings. And on and on and on—

It’s real and sort of terrifying. But only sort of.

A pup that smiles like Steve, laughs like his mate, smells like a mixture of them, that might have Steve’s droopy eyes and all his moles—all the things that make up his reason to wake up every morning could be reflected in something he helped create. Does it scare him that he could majorly screw it all up? Of course it does; even if he didn’t have a terrible dad, even if he didn’t have all his behavioral sorts growing up, even if everything was adjusted and perfect—even if, he’d probably still be scared. Wayne was when taking Eddie in—he’s the perfect parent—and nothing felt wrong even with the always jittering hum of fear creeping within their peripherals. He imagines that Steve reflects these feelings. Probably has his own little tidbits of Eddie that he’d like to see breathe after them.

The thought of there being a literal monolith to present the pure passion in their bond, it makes something bloom inside Eddie. Not like a rotten weed. A lily of the valley—drooping with the heavy weight of beauty, swaying with its bulbous skirts, and bright in its whites.

Also, Eddie believes in himself enough now to assure that he could love a pup fully and completely. That he could nurture one. Carry them in his arms no matter how much they outgrow the need. He’ll be bad at the raising in ways, he’s certain, but there’s enough worry in him—he knows, in anything, that he will outweigh the worry.

He’s afraid of screwing this up, but that’s enough to comfort him; maybe he won’t.

Steve believes in him too—which isn’t shocking, considering he’s more faithful to Eddie’s choices than anything else in the universe. It’s enough, though, to believe in himself more so than he ever has before.

Eddie tosses the cardboard box into the trash. And, with less details, he sets the test itself on a new washcloth when the toilet finally flushes. He strides out of the bathroom, to their little living room, and places himself next to Steve on the couch. His mate is biting at his fingernails.

“Five minutes,” Eddie says, “then we’ll know.”

There’s a quick nod from Steve, his fingers released from between his lips, and he sighs. “That feels like not enough time,” he mumbles.

“Kind of what I was thinking. But…I don’t know, maybe we need this to be quick? So that we can start planning?”

“Well, if it’s negative, what would be planning for?” Steve asks.

Eddie smirks and snorts. “Could figure out, like, a whole sex calendar just to have it stick. Or we could go out and buy five more tests and I can sit down and take each one.”

“Y’think it could show a false positive? ‘M kinda worried it’s gonna get it wrong,” Steve nervously says. His left leg is bouncing, the soft pat of his heel as it hits carpet over and over. There’s a scrunch between his eyebrows, a sour twist to his mouth. The faint trace of rusted copper—like a penny—in his scent; a trickle of worry that waxes and wanes. “I really don’t want it to be negative,” he murmurs, “but—I don’t—we don’t have to have pups, I know that, but it could be”—

He reaches out and takes Steve’s trembling hands, squeezing them in his grip. There’s saliva all over his fingernails, the ends of them chewed to bits and pieces—scraggly and misshapen now. Eddie presses himself closer. “It’s okay to want this,” he assures, “because I want this, Steve.” His thumbs dig into the soft padding on the backs of Steve’s hands. Hopefully it’s soothing enough through Eddie’s own nervousness. “I really want this to work out for us. Having pups has always been at the back of my mind, but I never thought all of this could be a reality for me.”

Steve sniffles. “What changed?” he mutters.

“I can’t really pinpoint it,” Eddie answers. He takes a moment of silence, staring down at their hands, the way his thumbs sweep over Steve’s skin. A lot changed. He voices that. “For one, I never thought I’d get away from my asshole dad. But…Wayne’s there now. In that shape, that position, all the love on his back, on his sleeves. Never thought I’d find my way out of Hawkins. Never thought I’d be somebody that people chose first—prioritized, loved, the whole courting and mating stuff.

“But now I’m in a place where I feel like I can think about my future. Where I can reach for it now and I’m not gonna touch empty air.

“I have…I have you, first and foremost. You in all your many ways. You’re the most secure I’ve seen you—safe and comfortable and loud, taking up space and making it your own. There’s no hesitation in the way you reach for me now. The way you seek for me when you need help, when you need somebody to just hold onto, when you just…just need somebody to care. You’re happy and you’re free and you’re—I feel like the luckiest omega alive right now.

“To have somebody by my side who full heartedly supports what I want to do. Who will nurture me at my lowest and be there at my best. You care for me. You care for Wayne. You care for the pups back home. And Robin, of course. There’s love in everything you have, you do, you are. I don’t know, Stevie, I’m just…

“I have an alpha that loves me—that’s something special,” Eddie murmurs wetly. He breathes out deeply, trying to catch himself from teetering. Steve’s looking at him with awe. It feels like being kissed by the sun. “Granted, I don’t have a job that I am one hundred percent set on, but that’s fine. We make enough money together. I have coworkers who don’t treat me like an outcast, they see me as a person, they want to know me. I’ve got a home made up with all of me kept in mind. There’s space for the both of us, for more family. There’s always food in the fridge. I can be myself wherever I am. My friends love me in all my ways.” Eddie shrugs. Aims for nonchalance, but the lump in his throat is heavy otherwise. “I think I’m right where I need to be,” he says, “and where I am, I feel like I can make true on things I’ve always dreamed of, but tried to let go of. Y’know, ‘cause it always felt so…so Hollywood to think of myself as a parent to an alpha’s pup. But I’ve always wanted to be. And now I can and—I’m ready for this. I want the test to be positive.”

Without realizing that Eddie had dropped his eyes, he looks back up to find Steve already staring. His big hazel eyes red rimmed and hazy, tears streaming down his blotchy cheeks, lower lip trembling, and his shoulders shaking with suppressed hiccups. Panicked, Eddie attempts to move his hands up to Steve’s face, but Steve only holds on tighter.

“I’m so glad I reached you in time,” Steve blubbers, “I’m so fucking happy I get to love you. And—fuck—and be loved by you.” He shutters a few, short sobs. Squeezes at Eddie’s hands, refusing to let go. “We get to do this all together, no matter what that damn test reads. And that’s just…just incredible. That we’re alive right now. Safe. Fuckin’ happy—all of it.”

They both breathe out a laugh. Sitting close, pressed thigh to thigh. Eddie knocks his forehead against Steve’s, brushing it like a cat would. “You might be a dad,” he whispers, “isn’t that perfect?”

“We’re gonna be dads,” Steve murmurs. “I want them to have your nose.”

“Really?”

“Mhm”—Steve nods against him, shifting the thin skin on their foreheads—“and your eyes. Just big and seeking. Telling a thousand words without actually talking.”

Eddie smiles big; gummy and wide and audible. “Funny, I want our pup to have your eyes. Puppy dog eyes. Shiny and droopy and just so fucking soft. And, um, they’re wearing some of your moles…and they smile like you, laugh like you.”

“I think what you want is a clone, Eds.”

“No, what I want is a little you. Because then I know they’re gonna be loved by everybody. Because they’re sweet and they’re charming and they’re funny. They take care of their own. They aren’t selfish.” Eddie gives a small shrug. “What I want is a pup who’s a good person and beautiful—both inside and out. And I know they will be as long as they’re related to you.”

Steve shifts away a little bit. Reaching up with his right hand, cupping the side of Eddie’s head. Stroking his thumb over the curve of Eddie’s cheek. “And since they’ll be related to you, then I know they’re going to be attentive and intelligent and selfless and loyal. They’ll be so wonderful,” he whispers, “on principal alone that they’re from my favorite person in the world.”

He sighs into Steve’s hold. “Are we just blowing smoke up our own asses?” Eddie quietly asks.

For all his teary-eyed talk, Steve lets out a startlingly loud belly laugh. His head thrown back. The line of his throat exposed. His eyes crinkled around the sounds. Eddie loves him. Loves him even more when he says, “Oh, so what? I know that you’re a good person. And you think of me as a good person. As long as we continue to be ourselves, then our kid’s gonna be just like us in that way. We’re fine.”

Eddie hums. He stands from the couch, hanging over Steve. Hand outstretched. “In that case…you wanna come back to the bathroom to check the test? Or should I bring it out here?”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve decides, slotting his hand with Eddie’s. He allows himself to be pulled up from his cushion, steadying himself against Eddie’s shoulder when he fully rises. “I’m kinda excited,” he comments as they pull their way to the bathroom.

“Only kinda?”

“I mean, I’m also a little scared? Is that weird?”

Eddie shoulders his way through the bathroom door, slotting himself between the corner of the counter and the toilet. He pulls Steve inside, too, placing him right in front of the sink. With a soft scrape, Eddie picks the test up, but his palm covers the actual reading. “No, it’s not weird,” he finally answers, “‘cause I’m scared, too. Think it’s only natural.”

“Right,” Steve says with a nod. “I don’t want to fuck any of this up.”

“Neither do I, sweetheart.” He juts the test forward. “You wanna look at the results first?”

Steve pushes it back, but instead of pulling away from it, he wraps his own hand around Eddie’s. “We should look at it together,” he says.

Before Eddie does anything to actually glance at the marks, he lets them stand in the sweet sound of their silence. Whatever they find could change the rest of their lives—forever. Right now, it’s just them. In a bathroom that’s on the side of too small. Under fluorescents that will eventually makes Steve’s head ache. Their scents mingling, slotted right next to each other in a library of perfection.

Pup or not, the result tells them the next course of action.

That’s a daunting realization in its own part.

“Whatcha waiting for, Eds?” Steve asks softly.

He shrugs. “We’re gonna be changed based on this—no matter what it is,” Eddie murmurs, “I’m just trying to save it in a picture before it’s gone.”

“You worried?”

“Always.” He swallows, looks down at their hands, and sighs. “But…but, like, fundamentally, we won’t be the same people we were before. Whether it’s because we’re becoming parents or trying to become parents. Just—I want to remember us unsure and worried and…and immature. Just for a little longer. For a moment.”

Steve’s fingers tighten over the back of Eddie’s hand. “You’re always going to be the Eds I met all those years ago.”

“Even though I was fuckin’ scared out of my skin?”

“Yeah,”—Steve steps closer, leans his forehead on Eddie again, and lets out a quick, low chirp—“but you were also brave. You’re brave now. And you’ll be this person to me for the rest of our lives.”

Eddie sniffs. “Will you flip it over with me?”

Without an answer, Steve just rotates the both of their hands until the result side of the test is staring up at them. Eddie moves his thumb, where the soft pad of it was covering, and lets out a pitched, gasped chirp.

“Two lines,” Steve mutters, “what does that mean?”

“It’s, uh, it’s”—can’t help himself, Eddie begins to purr, interrupting his words with rough croaks—“I’m pregnant,” he says.

“R-really?” Steve breathes. “Y’are? That’s—Two lines, that’s what it means? You’re positive on that?”

Eddie bumps his head against Steve. Chirps and purrs and chirps and purrs and—“I’m pregnant,” he says again, awestruck. “We’re gonna be dads, Steve! We’re doing this! It’s positive!”

Steve laughs under his breath, runs the tip of his nose against Eddie’s, and leans to peck his lips. “It’s positive,” he echoes in a whisper. “What do we do now?”

He scrunches his face at Steve’s question. “I don’t know,” Eddie mutters, “what if we started by getting some strawberries and Nutella?”

“Craving?”

“Of course,” Eddie murmurs, “but we can also feed them to each other. Sound good?”

A small hum escapes Steve’s throat. Hushed, “Yeah,” Steve says, “sounds perfect.”

——— Eddie fills a small pyrex bowl with Nutella and shoves it into the microwave. 45 seconds. And then he turns back around in their kitchen, resting himself against the counter, watching on as Steve slices up the strawberries.

Though the microwave is loud and echoing through the room, Eddie can’t help but focus in on the steady, rumbling, deep purrs Steve pushes out. He’s been doing them since they left for their little snack—the pregnancy test continuing to be fresh on his mind. Steve finishes his knife work on the strawberries and instead of washing his hands, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, slurping the fruit’s juice one by one. Every single time he parts his lips, purrs spill out; every time the sugary juice touches his tongue, Steve chirps involuntarily.

“Enjoying yourself, alpha?” Eddie asks.

With a finger deep in his mouth, Steve nods and hums out an affirmative. “Yeah,” he says muffled, “it’s good. I’m good. We’re all good.”

“I can hear you,” he murmurs, “love the way you preen.”

“Are my noises really that loud?” Steve croaks—those purrs put a soft vibrating edge to his words. “The microwave is still going.”

Eddie chuckles. “They’re the loudest they’ve ever been,” he points out.

“Can’t help it,” Steve says around a full smile. Something proud and shining and just so happy—Eddie’s over the moon. “Hard to keep my excitement to myself.”

“Well, don’t do that. I like how vocal you are, sweetheart. Love how much you’re in this with me.” He steps forward towards Steve, stopping right at his side. Gently, Eddie pets a hand through Steve’s hair—the way he folds right into the hold makes Eddie’s heart soar. “You’re so handsome when you’re happy.”

Steve rocks himself impossibly closer. Their noses tap each other. Lips mingling when Steve presses the smallest of kisses. “You’re sweet,” he says, “you smell sweet, too. I wanna eat you up, Eds.”

Eddie tilts his head, exposes the column of his throat, the side of his neck where his scent gland is. “You can take whatever you want from me, Stevie,” he purrs, “y’know how much I love your attention.”

In the junction of Eddie’s shoulder and neck, Steve slots his head. Lips pressing warmly against skin. There’s a hesitant kitten lick against the gland. A full body shiver when Eddie’s scent must intensify. “Smell…smell like…mmm.” He rocks forward again, this time grabbing for purchase on Eddie’s hips, fingers tightening. A broken, low, quiet moan breathes free from Steve’s chest.

Softly, Eddie lays his hands against the flexing planes of Steve’s back. Warmth kisses his fingertips, meets his palms. “Alpha,” he sighs. “So good”—carefully, Eddie maneuvers them so that his back is resting against the counter again, Steve slotting one of Eddie’s thighs between his legs—“feel so good.”

A waft of melted Nutella shares space between them—and with it, Steve bites down on Eddie’s neck. Garbled moans follow.

Steve’s breath stutters hot and cold to the underside of Eddie’s jaw. His fingers tense and relax and tense and relax and—his hips grind down hard on the soft meat of Eddie’s left thigh. The heavy bulge of Steve’s cock noticeable by warmth alone. Eddie runs his right hand up the curved line of Steve’s spine, up until it rests at the ends of his hair. He tugs at Steve’s strands, eliciting a choked whimper from his alpha.

“You got a knot for me?” Eddie breathily asks. “Gonna knock me up again, alpha?”

That spurs Steve on.

In one swift motion, Eddie is being bent over the counter, his backside hitched high in the air, and Steve’s meaty hands pinning him in place. “Omega,” Steve whines, “please? Can I—Please?”

“Use your words, alpha,” Eddie commands lightly. “What do you need from me?”

“I—I need to put my knot in you, please, omega. Please let me—fuck, I need to—gotta, Eds.”

“Before you do anything,” he rumbles, “I want you to grab the Nutella from the microwave and set it on the counter.” Hesitantly, Steve pulls away, leaving Eddie crumpled over the counter. The microwave door opens and closes with clunky, loud thumps. Right in Eddie’s eyesight, the glass Pyrex bowl is placed. “Dip a topless strawberry in it”—and Steve does—“feed it to me, alpha. Gotta make sure I’m getting all my nutrients, right?”

The chocolate coated strawberry is gently placed onto Eddie’s tongue, Steve’s fingers lingering between his lips. With a swipe, a coil, he wipes Steve’s fingertips clean. Saliva beads and drips down naked knuckles, leaving a slick trail that—experimentally—Steve brings up to his mouth. Moaning around his own hand.

“Alpha?”

“Mm?” Steve hums.

“Feed me another strawberry, sweetheart.” Eddie keeps his tone light, almost playful. To add, he throws out a small pout. “Please?” He looks up to Steve with his best wide puppy eyes. “And then my handsome, selfless, wonderful alpha can put his pretty knot in me. Fill me up”—Eddie drops his voice—“knock me up, give me all the cute babies in the world.”

Quickly, and with less care, Steve stuffs Eddie’s mouth with two whole strawberries—dripping once more in Nutella, leaving smears in the saliva on his fingers. There’s a rustle, a clink, as Steve fights with his own belt, and then the thump of his pants as they hit the floor. He positions himself behind Eddie again, fingers pushed deep into the waistband of his sweatpants, curling and ready. “Now, omega? I need to—Please let me fuck you, Eddie.”

Eddie opens his legs wider, shuffling from side to side. He places his arms—folded—under his heavy head. And looks back to Steve with sultry eyes. “I’m ready,” he purrs, “been waiting for you to touch me like this again.”

“I didn’t”—he tears Eddie’s pants down his legs—“I didn’t wanna scare you off,” Steve pants. “Didn’t need you to know how much I…fuck…I’m turned on by this.”

“What does it for you, baby? Is it the scent? My slick?” Eddie smirks, raises his eyebrows slightly, blinks his eyes as doe-like as he possibly can. “Is it ‘cause I’m carrying your pup? Doin’ all the hard work for you? Giving you exactly what you want, alpha? You deserve it, baby. Deserve all the pups in the world.” He wriggles his hips again, the naked skin of his ass hitting the stuffy air of their kitchen. Steve’s warmth is pressed right against his ass. Cock hanging heavy. Already slick with want. “And I deserve to be fucked by you, alpha. I’ve been good for you, now you be good for me.”

A hot glob of spit travels from Steve’s mouth to Eddie’s ass. Fingers gently spreading the moisture between his cheeks and then working to stretch him—to relax him enough to take. Steve’s cock is thick and long, his knot adding onto the sheer size. He takes his time, slowly inserting himself inside of Eddie, only stopping once he’s fully seated. His stomach is pressed against Eddie’s back, as Steve has leaned over, his face smushed into Eddie’s curls. Breath heaving, chest rising and falling.

Hands travel up from Eddie’s hips to his waist. Fingers curling around to pet and press and lay against his softening stomach. “So warm,” Steve murmurs, “so sweet and beautiful and good. Wanna stay like this forever, omega. Connected inside you.”

Eddie gently rolls his hips, working himself up and down the shaft of Steve’s cock. Slow, not rushing, keeping them close together. “We won’t be able to do that, sweet thing. We’re gonna be raising a family.”

“I know,” Steve whispers, “but I can stay with you like this right now.”

He sighs, relaxing against the counter. “You want a strawberry, sweetheart? Bet it would be good paired with my scent. Can you smell me from where you are?”

Nosing down from Eddie’s head, Steve presses his face against the scent gland once more. His mouth parts slightly. Blindly, Eddie reaches for a cut up strawberry, dips it in the bowl, and places it between Steve’s lips. A full, high moan leaves his throat. “Sugar,” Steve breathes, “my sweet omega. So sweet for me.” His sticky lips press against Eddie’s neck, trailing Nutella spit along his skin. He rolls his hips, slapping his skin to Eddie’s hard. “Want you to smell like this forever…mmm…fuck.”

Eddie whimpers as Steve licks over his scent gland again. Teething along the skin. Fingers press firmly to his abdomen, gripping him, keeping him tight. “Alpha”—

Steve fucks into him even harder. Setting a new, brutal pace. His breaths rattle and heave out of him. Mewling against Eddie’s scent gland, fingernails scratching along his skin, moaning unashamed directly into Eddie’s ear. “Gonna take care of you,” Steve rasps, “keep you happy. Please you all the time. Need you to smell like this for however long you can. Fuck, I love it. I love you, Eds. You’re gonna be a good dad, shit.”

“What does that make you, Stevie?”

“Huh? What”—

“Are you a daddy, Steve? Are you gonna be my good alpha daddy?” Steve, if possible, doubles over even more against Eddie’s back. A strangled, guttural moan breaks free. His hands are moving everywhere now—over Eddie’s chest, scratching along his collarbones, gripping tight to his shoulders, down his waist, back onto his hips—aimlessly and helplessly. He thrusts, hard enough to dislodge Eddie from where he’s resting his head, his own hands reaching out for purchase on anything atop the counter. His fingers scramble, fingernails dragging along the tiled surface. “Ah—alpha, yes, you’re doing so good—fuck, you’re so good to me. Fill me up, sugar, give me everything”—he turns his face into the counter, muffling his sounds against it. Then, he shifts back towards the Nutella and strawberries, dipping another one and raising it up to where Steve’s mouth is. “Take from me, too, baby. Eat another berry for me, alpha, show me”—

Steve takes it without another thought. There’s a haziness in his eyes, from the little bit that Eddie can see of him. He chews around the fruit, but doesn’t let Eddie drop his hand away. Instead, he bends down and suckles onto Eddie’s fingertips. Swirling his tongue. Grating his teeth against skin. Drooling against each digit. “Could eat you,” he garbles, “wanna—keep you—need you everywhere around me. Gonna—fuck, omega, gonna come. Need to—can I? Please? Can”—

“C’mon, daddy, give me what you think I need.”

With one final—almost painful—thrust, Steve is coming deep inside Eddie. Steve’s knot blooms, filling every bit of extra space inside Eddie, pressing against his walls. His hips still, hands squeezing along Eddie’s hips, teeth baring against his shoulder, a loud, unforgiving moan. Steve’s eyes are slammed shut, crinkling at the corners. Red in the face. There’s sweat beading on his brow bone. And then he crumples, falling limp against Eddie’s back.

Eddie, trembling and shaking, gushes slick down the insides of his thighs. Hands flat to the counter, turning white with pressure. Face smushed against the tile, breathing broken, croaky noises. “Good”—he huffs, praises—“good, so good.”

A gentle hand paws the side of Eddie’s face, brushing back the hair that threatens to get caught in his mouth. Steve presses a kiss to his cheekbone. To the underside of his jaw. The shell of Eddie’s ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “omega, for letting me have you like this. Been craving you for days now.”

“You should be like me, alpha,” he pants. “Tell me what you need. I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Need to be careful.”

“I want you to, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “I needed this, too. Fuck, I needed this. Love your cock. Love your knot.” He takes a deep breath, pulls his eyes over his shoulder to attempt direct eye contact—it comes close enough. “I love you, daddy.”

Steve growls low in the back of his throat. “I can’t go again,” he chuffs, from deep inside him. “Gotta wait until I”—

“Well, I’ve got all the time in the world.” Eddie eyes the cutting board full of berries again. “Feed me a strawberry, please? Need to get back my stamina.”

With a light roll of his eyes, Steve reaches for a cut up strawberry, and feeds it to Eddie. “Good?”

“The best. Thank you, alpha.”

“Only the best for you, omega.”

——— Second Trimester

He hits sixteen weeks.

And it shows. Steve has taken full notice.

As it is, they’re sitting in the living room again, huddled close on the couch. Eddie’s lounging against the back of the sofa, but Steve is elongated—his head resting on Eddie’s stomach. Hands cradling the gentle swell.

“Hey, my little bug,” Steve sweetly coos, “did you know you’re the size of an avocado?” He pets his hands down Eddie’s sides. “I could make guacamole out of you.”

“Steve”—

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mutters around a lopsided smile. “Did you also know that you can start frowning and smiling now? I bet you didn’t find my joke very funny, probably making a little grumpy face at me. You poutin’ like your papa does?”

That’s the name the pup will call Eddie.

Dad is for Steve—changed after a lot of…playful takes on the new name.

“I bet they actually frown like you,” Eddie shoots back, “with your big Beaker pout.” He pulls the face like Steve shows it, or at least as close as possible. He doesn’t think his face can actually pull down like that.

“Hey!” Steve says, though he doesn’t sound affronted. If anything, pleased as pie. “My frown doesn’t look like that!”

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, it so totally does! Plus, this is pay back for your pizza giving me heartburn.”

Steve makes that face—the Beaker pout. “You need me to grab you some Tums? I think you can take a couple.”

He runs his hands through the top of Steve’s hair. Gently scratching his nails against his scalp. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. The heartburn comes and goes anyway because of the whole pregnancy thing, I’ll be alright.”

The tip of Steve’s nose runs along the upper part of his belly. Cold and puffing air. He kisses Eddie’s skin. “Okay,” he mutters, “you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers, “I’ll tell you if anything starts to suck.”

With a small sigh, Steve relaxes against Eddie’s stomach again. “This doesn’t suck,” he murmurs, “y’think that she can hear me in there?”

“Mmm…dunno, baby.” His hand passes through Steve’s hair again. “Also she? Is that what you’re hoping for, alpha?”

A shrug. “Just feel it, I dunno. Think our little bug is a girl.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s stomach again. “Y’hear that, pup? Now you gotta prove me right, huh?”

Eddie chuckles, removes his hands from Steve’s head, and pats at his belly. “Don’t listen to Dad, little bug. You can be whoever you wanna be.”

“Well, of course,” Steve says, “I just think my instincts are right again. They’ve been right so far.”

“You’re very observant, I’ll give you that, sweetheart.” He sighs, relaxes against the back of the couch, and closes his eyes. “What do you think about a nap?” Eddie murmurs, “‘cause I think that might be something I really want right now.”

Steve sits back up, angles himself to face Eddie on the couch, and pets a hand down the side of Eddie’s face. “We can go back to bed, baby, if that’s what you need. I’ll grab the blanket from the dryer and refill your water bottle, omega.” He leans over and pecks under Eddie’s right eye, smiling when Eddie peels it back open. “You want me to lay down with you?”

Eddie nods. “And cuddle me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

——— “You know what I noticed during the ultrasound today?” Eddie says around his foaming toothbrush. They’re getting ready for bed—Eddie himself is completely wiped, while Steve lays awake in their nest reading a book. It’s a bigger font copy of The Hobbit; an anniversary gift from a few years back, when Steve had previously been solemn and upset about not being able to read a regular copy. His reading glasses are low on his nose when he peeps around the cover.

“Was it something about the pup? Should I be worried?”

Eddie hums. “No, I don’t think so.” He turns back towards the ensuite’s sink, spits a glob, and spits again before getting a cup of water. After a quick swish and rinse, he faces Steve again. “My lower belly’s got a couple stretch marks on it. Not, like, too big or noticeable if you don’t know what to look for. Just thought it was interesting.”

Steve sets his book page down over his chest, opening his right arm to beckon Eddie under the covers. Within seconds, he’s tucked into Steve’s side. A hand warmly petting over his shoulders. “It’s not a bad thing,” Steve assures.

“I know, alpha,” Eddie murmurs, “it’s just…wow, things are actually changing.” He swallows hard. “And we’re gonna find out the gender of the pup soon, which is crazy. Feel like it was just yesterday we were even finding out about all of this in the first place, y’know? I thought everything would happen a lot slower.”

A hum comes from Steve. And his scent blooms with little buds of nerves—like it’s charred around the edges. “I’m nervous, too,” he whispers, “at the pace of everything. Feels like I’ll wake up tomorrow and the pup will be here.”

“Don’t jinx anything,” Eddie firmly warns.

“I’m not, omega, swear. Besides, we definitely have a lot of time left before the pup arrives. Y’know, as long as no complications pop up”—and now Steve’s scent turns sour—“as long as everything is healthy, right? Which, like, that includes you. So I gotta make sure you’re taken care of. And—The food I made today had enough vegetables and protein and stuff, we barely had any sort of junk food—which, would be fine if you wanted junk food, I’m just saying—Are you okay, omega?”

Eddie raises his head from Steve’s shoulder. Eyebrows raised in amusement. “Are you, alpha? Sounds and smells like you’re working yourself into a tizzy.”

“I just—I’m worried that we could still be doing things wrong. What if I’m not supporting you the right way? Are you—Have I—Are things okay right now? We’re doing okay, right?”

He pets a hand over Steve’s chest, scratching through his hair again. “We are,” he murmurs gently, “we’re doing super okay. I’m healthy and safe. And you’re being sweet and taking care of me the way I need. Everything is going perfectly fine.” Eddie settles back down, turning his face into Steve’s shoulder, kissing it. “Do you wanna check in on the pup, sweetheart? Think they might be fluttering around right now—unless that’s the indigestion I’ve been having, in which case, uh…definitely not the pup.”

Steve’s scent goes sugary and warm again as he bursts with raspy laughter. He maneuvers down their mattress, book abandoned between them, putting himself eye level with Eddie’s belly, placing a gentle hand. “Hi, pup,” he murmurs, “Papa says you’re moving around. You gonna say hi back to me?”

A few long moments pass in complete silence. Their breaths soft and mixing. Scents calmed and mingling. And then—

Gasp.

The hand against Eddie’s belly tightens. “Hello,” Steve coos, “oh my goodness, hi pup. How’s my little bug doing?” He giggles, thumb sweeping against skin, scent sugary like bursting Pop Rocks. “Have you been giving Papa any trouble? You gotta be nice to him, he’s giving you a little home right now. But when you do meet us, we’ve got a perfect nest for you to get nice and cozy in. And Dad—that’s me—he’s gonna make you all the pancakes in the world, and he’s gonna read to you, and we’re all going to go to the park and play. Papa’s gonna sing all kinds of songs to you, too. He loves singing.”

“I’ve better start learning some lullabies,” Eddie whispers.

Steve snorts. Looks up at him—eyes big and shiny and bright. “We should try and find a book of lullabies or something. She’ll wanna hear you sing to her all the time.”

“I don’t think bug is a girl,” Eddie says, “I think you’ve got wishful thinking.”

“Intuition,” Steve responds, “I just know these things.”

Eddie reaches down and trails his hand over the back of Steve’s neck. “Speaking of knowing,” he says, “how are we going about finding out the gender?”

“We should do something simple. I, uh, I really don’t want to do a big party or anything. Unless, y’know, unless you want to, omega. Then I’m one hundred percent on board with the decision.”

“What if we just had a bakery make us a cake and then we ate it at home? We could, like, cut a slice and take a photo of it and send it out in the mail or something. I’m not keen on the whole pup shower things.” Eddie sighs. “The thing that I’m worried about is that somebody in the pack back home is going to plan a surprise thing and it’ll be sprung on us.”

“I’ll call home,” Steve says, “tell them to not make any big plans like that. Promise, omega, we’ll do something chill.”

Just as he goes to give his thanks, Eddie cracks with a giant yawn. “Get back up here,” he mumbles, “I wanna go to bed.”

“You sure you’re okay? Been all kinds of tired,” Steve comments, wriggling back up the mattress, wrapping himself around Eddie.

“Just tired,” he mutters, “had a long day.”

“Okay”—Steve smacks a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head—“I love you, omega.”

“Love you, too, alpha,” Eddie mumbles.

Within moments, they’re both out like a light.

——— He pulls Steve back to their nest. Half-dressed and still waking up.

Eddie pushes himself up into Steve’s space—as his alpha stands over him—and presses a hard kiss to his lips. Pulling back, he’s breathless. “Slick,” he pants, “I’m super fucking slick right now, alpha. I need you.”

“Baby”—Steve sighs—“I’ve gotta get to work, omega. I can’t”—

“Just really quick,” Eddie rushes out. “I don’t even need your knot, just need you to stroke my dick and that’s it. Just need’ta…need to come, please.”

Steve wavers, stepping back, getting close. He noses at Eddie’s hairline. Lips smearing over Eddie’s forehead. “You’ve got a lot of energy for somebody who couldn’t sleep last night,” he murmurs.

“Blame it on the pup, not me. Shit. It’s getting harder to sleep with this bump in my way, swear to god.” He wriggles against the edge of their nest, scents heightened, leaving him shuttering and purring. “But I need you, alpha. Gimme something to work with,” he whines. Rocking. “The toys don’t feel as good as you do.”

A growl rumbles from Steve’s throat. His palm cupping Eddie’s crotch, rubbing over the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Lean back on your hands,” Steve commands, “spread your legs for me. Let me help.”

Quickly, Eddie opens up for Steve, leaning back into their nest. “Do you need me to”—

“Lift up a little, let me get your pants down.” He does what Steve asks of him. Gets a peck to the cheek for it. His pants go down agonizingly slow. “We should take you shopping for some omega maternity clothes,” Steve comments, “make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.” As soon as Eddie’s cock springs free from the waistband of his underwear, Steve is dropping to his knees. Lips mouthing—teasing—at the head of Eddie’s cock.

“Al—Alpha,” Eddie gasps.

Steve hums, pushing himself forward inch by little inch. Until he’s fully wrapped around Eddie’s cock, warming it from all angles. Tempting the grounds, Eddie rocks his hips, but as soon as he’s started, Steve is pinning him down by the hips. Eyes heated as he looks up to Eddie, slitted and eyelashes fanning dark, pupils dilated so his irises are nearly 100% black. Steve’s lips are wet with slick and spit, bright magenta from the stretch, bobbing up and down the length of Eddie’s shaft.

Tentatively, Eddie places his right hand in Steve’s hair, but is immediately shook out of it.

With a small pop, Steve comes up for a breath. “Don’t,” he pants, “don’t mess up my hair. Hands to yourself, omega.”

“But I need to touch your hair, alpha.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, giving Eddie a ‘be patient’ expression. “Later,” he says, “tonight, I promise. Just let me please you first.” Without letting Eddie say anything more, Steve leans forward again, wrapping his pretty pink lips on Eddie’s shaft, and works all the way up until he gives a ragged, gurgling gag.

“Careful,” Eddie murmurs, stroking his fingers down Steve’s hollowed left cheek. His thumb rubs into the warmth flushing Steve’s face. “Don’t hurt yourself, babe.”

The vibrations of Steve’s following hum shakes all the way to Eddie’s core. A sharp exhale of breath chases. And then his tongue starts to swirl again, flexing and wet.

Eddie moans breathily, chest heaving with his panting, eyes rolled back. His eyelashes flutter tiredly, face heating up, fingers falling away from Steve’s face. He’s already embarrassingly close—and Steve doesn’t need to know this, but Eddie had already worked himself up twice this morning while in the shower, slicking up his own hand before cleaning up in the hard, warm spray from the shower-head. For all that he’s already done, he really shouldn’t be as turned on as he is; and he definitely shouldn’t be considering a round two after Steve’s done with him. But he’ll just wait for when Steve goes to work.

The biggest plus side in his pregnancy so far is how his libido has doubled. It’s also his greatest weakness—waking up with wet boxers, dick hard, pussy throbbing, his insides squirming for Steve’s knot at all hours of the day; especially when his alpha isn’t home. A man can only take so many masturbation sessions before he just breaks.

This is him breaking.

Despite Steve’s hands pinning him into place, Eddie still attempts to roll his hips.

It makes the fingers wrapped around him tighten, but honestly, Eddie doesn’t care to listen. He continues to lift his hips, seeking friction and completion wrapped in one. Steve’s mouth is hot and wet, saliva pooling atop his tongue, drool spilling out the corners of his mouth. And Eddie goes against his alpha again, wrapping his hand in the hair at the back of Steve’s head, twirling strands around his fingers and pulling—hard—as he finally, finally gets the desired pace from Steve’s bobbing.

Stuttering through his breaths, moans spilling from his core hot and ready and burning through his throat, Eddie comes with a shout. His body eases like a puppet with its strings cut, but before he can fully collapse back, Steve steadies him. The tongue around Eddie’s cock twitches as Steve swallows, and it licks a stripe as he pulls off.

“I hope you didn’t ruin my hair,” Steve croaks, “and I need to brush my teeth again.”

“Sorry,” Eddie sighs. “Sorry, alpha, I couldn’t help myself.”

Steve sniffs, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, but stops when he catches a glimpse of Eddie’s cock and his noticeably throbbing pussy. “You’re still turned on,” he points out. “Do you need”—

“No, I’m okay, alpha. You should get yourself ready for work.”

“Are you sure? I can”—

“I’ll just masturbate again, I’m fine.”

That gives him an incredulous look from Steve. “Again?” he questions, “what the hell do you mean again?”

Eddie darts his eyes to the side, sitting back up and tucking himself back into his underwear without looking. “I, um, I may have gone a couple rounds in the shower? And last night? And yesterday morning for sure.”

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “Do you think something’s up or…”

He shakes his head. “No, my sex drive is just running wild. Usually, I can get myself to calm down, but uh…yeah, these last few days not so much. I get too sensitive if I just leave it alone, so I had to take it into my own hands. And I figured that I should be mindful enough to not bother you.”

Steve frowns—Beaker. “But I can help you, omega. If you need me to help. It’s gonna get harder when you grow bigger.”

“Then I’ll ask down the road, Stevie, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures. “I love when you dote on me, but I don’t need you to put all your attention on me all the time. Promise you, I’ll be fine. Probably just plug myself with a vibrator and take it easy today.”

“Oh god,” Steve groans. “Now I’m gonna be thinking about you doing that all day today,” he whines. “Robin’s gonna think something’s wrong with me.”

“There is something wrong with you,” Eddie gently teases. He smirks, sharp and only a little mean. Steve rolls his eyes at him and he giggles. “Go wash your mouth out, baby. Unless you want other alphas to know who you’ve got waiting at home.”

“That a new bedroom thing for you?” Steve calls after himself when he moves towards the bathroom. The sink turns on and the sound of mouthwash being poured fills the little space.

“No! I just—You’re mine. Maybe there’s some pride in that.” He tries to say it nonchalantly, loosely so that it won’t make a big scene for Steve. But he still hears the gagged gargle from the bathroom. He continues, “Just imagine it, sweetheart. Other alphas trying to approach you because they smell something good. Only to find out it’s your pregnant omega back home that you sucked down on because he was just too tempting. Because you’re a good alpha who takes care of their mate. Everybody would know just how well you take care of me. Fuck me good, fill me up, keep me pleased.” Eddie sighs dreamily at that, shuttering—his hand aches to reach for his already spent cock, but he refrains; for now. “Let me scent your jacket before you go. Please, baby?”

Steve stumbles back out of their ensuite. Clumsily grabbing for his jacket off the dresser, tossing it Eddie’s way. “Make it extra sweet for me,” he says, “want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Eddie picks up the jacket, rubs the collar against his neck. “You know that payphone tucked near the back of Family Video?”

“Mm, yeah,” Steve says, tugging on his sneakers. When he stands up from his crouched position on the floor, he’s breathless and staring down Eddie’s hands. “What about it?”

“You should call me on your lunch break,” Eddie suggests. “Tell me about the people who smell me on you. Want you to tell me if you growled at them. If you got all big and huffy for me. And if this jacket was only to fend off the other alphas.”

“What do you”—

“Tell me if you go into the bathroom with me tucked up against your nose. With your hand on your heavy fucking dick. Thinking about me at home, lazy and tired, rocking myself on my vibrator, making our whole apartment smell like sweet formula milk. I want you to tell me if you stroke yourself raw. If you make a complete mess in your pants. Tell me, alpha, if you get turned on even without me there.” Eddie looks up from where he’s now rubbing the jacket over his wrists. Eyes half lidded. Dangerous. “I’m gonna come,” he says, “because I always do when I know you’re pleasing yourself. I’m gonna come with your name in my mouth. Vibrator in my pussy and my hand wrapped around my cock—still gonna be warm from that pretty mouth of yours. And all I’m gonna think is that my alpha Steve did this to me. All of it. The courting and the mating, the fact I’m pregnant, the way I can’t get enough of sex—the way I crave you all the time.” He stands from the bed, shuffles over to the bedroom doorway where Steve stands stock-still and shocked, and he wraps the jacket over Steve’s shoulders. With a tug the lapels, worming Steve’s arms through the sleeves, and a jerk on the zipper—it’s done. “Because I do,” Eddie purrs, “crave you every single moment of the day. And all I want”—he nips at Steve’s lips, suckles on the bottom—“is you”—another peck—“right next to me”—hands caressing the sides of Steve’s neck, where Eddie leans in and noses at Steve’s own scent gland; rosemary and campfire, sugar and cinnamon, slick—“all the fucking time. You think you can call me?”

Wordlessly and listlessly, Steve bobs his head. He tucks his nose into the collar of his jacket, but—

Eddie jerks Steve back up from the sides of his face. “Wait until you get to work,” Eddie lightly commands, “and then you tell me all about it. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, omega,” Steve breathes. “I’ll call you. Tell you everything.”

“Good,” Eddie husks. “Such a good mate. Kiss me and the pup bye?”

Steve kneels down in front of Eddie again. Kisses his belly gently, hands framing either side. “Bye, bug,” he murmurs, “you give Papa a break today, okay?”

“She’s gonna try and make me piss my pants.”

They both watch as a kick flutters by, Steve presses his hand to the spot. Snorts. “She?”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe I’m just following intuition?” He watches as Steve stands back up, accepts the kiss to his lips. “How big is she?” Eddie murmurs.

“According to that Nesting & Pupsbook I read, she should be about the size of an ear of corn.”

“We’ve got a little corn pup.”

“Corn pup? Sounds like corndog,” Steve chuckles.

Eddie giggles. “Are we gonna dip her in mustard or something?”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Ew, no. If anything, we’re dipping her in ketchup.”

“Ugh, that makes me queasy.” He fakes a gag, tries to keep his face set in disgust, but ultimately loses to Steve’s little fit of giggles. Eddie sways into Steve’s space, impossibly closer, and hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Steve’s jeans. “I wish you could stay here all day,” he whispers, “keep me and the pup company.”

Matching the volume, Steve asks, “But what about our plans today?”

“You could always do it here…at home.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “As much as I wanna be here with you, we need to make sure that there’s some money. Other than whatever’s still in my savings account. So…But you keep the nest warm, I’ll call you on my lunch break, and then when I get home—hmm—what if I picked up Chinese takeout? Does that sound tonight?”

“Two orders of lo mein and sweet and sour chicken sounds delicious right now.”

“I’ll pick some up on the way home and we’ll have a lazy night in the nest. Promise.”

Eddie runs his wrists on Steve’s jacket collar again—an extra measure. “Love you, alpha, see you tonight.”

“Love you, too.”

——— At twenty-three weeks, they bring home the reveal cake.

Steve had ordered it. Just a nine inch round cake, like that of one at a pup’s first birthday—the messy, yet glorious smash cake. Plain white buttercream frosting on the outside, moist vanilla cake that’s been dyed by food coloring on the inside, and a spill of chocolate sauce on the very top. It’s simple, but pretty. And now it’s theirs.

They bring it out after dinner, when Eddie states he could use a little something sweet with a knowing glint in his eyes. So, now, they’ll finally find out. Albeit a week later than most expecting omegas, but it’s their way of doing things and that’s just fine.

Eddie makes Steve wrap his hand around the knife’s handle, poised to cut a slice.

“No peeking at any cake crumbs that come up on the blade, wait until we get the whole piece out,” Eddie says.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Steve murmurs excitedly. “It’s not gonna change anything about how we love the pup, but I just—Gosh, it’s just crazy we’ve made it here already.”

“Well, you better start grabbing your nuts ‘cause things are gonna get crazier after this. We’re a month and a half away from entering the last trimester and I swear, Steve, things are gonna be wild.”

“I’m gearing up to have a really emotional moment,” Steve says, “do you have to mention my fuckin’ balls right now?”

Eddie shrugs innocently. “I’m just giving you a little warning. Maybe grab your balls and cry, baby.”

“Stop mentioning my—Can we just cut the cake already? I wanna know.”

With a gentle breath, Eddie keeps his focus on Steve’s face and carefully—centimeter by little centimeter—pushes the knife down. Only stopping when it goes stiff against the cardboard cake-board. They drag it back up, Steve reaches for the nearby paper towel he had crumpled earlier, and giving the knife a barely there glance, he wipes it off.

“Ready?” Eddie whispers, “as soon as we cut this other side, we’re gonna get the piece off the board and look at it.”

“What are you hoping for?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t have a preference. I’m just excited to have a pup with you. What about—are you hoping for a certain”—

“No”—Steve give a little shake of his head—“god, no. I don’t wanna do what my parents did to me, y’know? Made every decision for me based on my stupid gender. We’re not gonna do that, no matter what we find out—right? We aren’t going to do that?”

“Baby, of course we aren’t,” Eddie murmurs softly. He brings his non-dominant hand to Steve’s face, stroking his cheek. “We’re gonna love them with everything we’ve got. No matter who they are. You aren’t going to be anything like your parents, you hear me? The pup’s not even here and you’re already being more involved and attentive to them than your parents ever were. And more than my parents were. We’re going to be okay, alpha, I promise.”

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. His lower lip wobbles, head cushioning further into the cup of Eddie’s palm. “I’m ready,” he says, voice shaky, “stick the other side.”

He looks back down to the cake, just to make sure the knife goes where it should. With one more cautious final push, the slice is freed from the rest of the cake. Eddie sucks in his own sharp breath, holding it long enough that his chest burns before releasing it. This is it.

“There’s a pup in me,” Eddie mumbles, “and they’re growing and stuff. And…and we’re getting closer to meeting them. And this is—God, this is it.”

Steve’s right hand lands warmly on the center of Eddie’s back, running up and down in languid stripes. “Is it just now fully setting in?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. Sniffs. “Do you have the plate?”

Without saying anything, Steve shuffles the plate further towards the cake. And Eddie, finally, places the slice down.

Inside it’s—

Pink.

It’s conformist and stupid, that pink is girl and blue is boy and all that gendered sort of stuff, but call Eddie a hypocrite because he still associates all the intuition to the color. They’re having a pup and he’s already being stereotypical in all this, what’s a little more?

“You were right,” Eddie breathes, “alpha, we’re having a girl.”

“I told you”—Steve gasps, laughs, sobs all at once—“I told you I knew these sort of things!”

Stunned, Eddie repeats, “Alpha, we’re having a girl.” He blinks, looks down at the slice of cake in his hands, and shifts his focus back to Steve. “A little girl.”

“Yeah, Eds, a girl,” he coos. “Are you—You okay?”

Eddie blinks again, cheeks now wet with previously unnoticed tears. “Y-yeah, I’m super okay,” he says shakily, “I just can’t believe we’re finally here. And I’m doing it with you. And it’s—This is high school Eddie’s dream come true.”

“Really?”

“I always pictured you next to me,” Eddie says as an answer. “Even if it seemed so unrealistic back then. I just—I’d see you from afar. With your pretty smile and those warm eyes and you…you were always right there when somebody needed you; even if those people weren’t people that I liked. You were just—there. Ready.

“And all I could think, sitting at my own desk or table, was that, Wow, Steve Harrington would be the perfect mate. It was wishful thinking on my part. But I”—Eddie wrangles Steve’s right hand, holding it tight instead—“I’m so glad I was right. You are not only the most perfect mate, but you are also the most doting, most respectful, most thoughtful alpha in the world. And we’re gonna have a baby girl who’s probably gonna have your eyes. She’s gonna look around at our world, surrounded by our mingling scents, wondering how she ended up so lucky. With two loving parents.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Eyes darting over his face, teary and happy. Whispers, “In my dreams, you were always right there. And here you are. Right here. About to”—Eddie chuckles—“about to eat fucking cake with me. Isn’t that something?”

There are tears falling fast down Steve’s cheeks. He sniffles and groans, “Gah, Eds.” And pulls his hands back to rub over his warm, ruddy cheeks. “Why’re you makin’ me cry?”

“Because I need you to know how much I’m ready to do this with you,” Eddie says seriously, “no matter what.”

Steve hiccups a breath, wipes his face again, and sighs. “I know I’ve probably said it a million fucking times already, but—wow, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s so weird to think I was at one point jealous of you and now I”—he coughs around a half-formed sob—“now I can’t do anything but adore you.”

“I adore you, too,” Eddie murmurs. “Can we eat the cake now? Because, uh, as much as I love getting sappy with you, I really am craving something sweet.”

That earns him a snort. “Am I not sweet enough?” Steve asks, mirth in his eyes.

Already holding his fork, Eddie poises to take the first chunk out of the slice. “You’re plenty sweet, Stevie. I just happen to want some cake right now.”

“I’ve got cake that you can have”—

“Later,” Eddie moans around his cake. “Just let me eat right now.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “At least let me have some, too, omega.”

——— Third Trimester

He can’t sleep. It’s pissing him off.

Steve’s conked out, snoring like a chainsaw right next to him. Limbs tossed everywhere, drooling and sighing into his pillow. And Eddie’s stuck laying on his back feeling more and more like an abandoned turtle, belly itchy, and his legs restless. He’d do something about it—if it didn’t mean having to wake up his mate.

For now, Eddie stares at the ceiling, hands tangled in his own hair to try and alleviate the scratching he’s been doing, wondering how many more sheep he’ll have to count. So far he’s up to 489. There’s wool in his eyes—or at least they’re heavy and aching enough to feel like they’re full of wool.

“I just wanna sleep,” he quietly whines. Eddie attempts to toss over on his right side, but all that does is jostle the entire nest, still leaving him uncomfortable on his back. And that—

“Eds?” Steve sleepily grumbles, “what are you doin’?”

Eddie huffs. “I’m trying to sleep,” he snaps, “don’t worry about it.”

Despite his brushing off, Steve still rouses. He chases after Eddie, wrapping an arm around his middle. Hand sweeping. “Omega, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you,” Steve rumbles.

“I”—he sighs, gives in—“I’m itchy and my legs are achy and I feel like I’m going stir crazy despite going to the grocery store today. All I wanna do is sleep, alpha. But I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Do you think a warm bath will help your ankles and feet?”

Eddie grunts. “It’ll just make me itch, though. These fuckin’ stretch marks are gonna be the death of me, swear to god.”

Steve runs a patient hand over Eddie’s belly again. “Then let’s put your feet in the bath. And I’ll sit on the ledge of the bathtub with you, rub lotion on your belly, take you on a little walk around the apartment.”

“Alpha, you had a long shift today. I don’t wanna interrupt your sleep, I’ll be”—

“Eds, I have the day off tomorrow. I’ll just make it up ‘cause I know you’re probably gonna spend a good portion of the day asleep anyway. Just let me take care of you the way I know how.”

He sighs. “I need help getting up,” Eddie says quietly, “it’s getting harder to turn over.”

Without saying anything, Steve pulls away and sits up. He pads around their mattress until he’s standing over Eddie, holding his hands out. One tug later, and Eddie’s sitting up. Groaning, but sitting up. “Does your back hurt, too, omega?”

“Little bit,” he mumbles, “this is gonna be so much worse when I actually hit the third trimester, isn’t it?”

Something soft and hurt flashes in Steve’s gaze. His face creases with concern and sympathy. “Maybe, but we’ll find a way to minimize it a little bit, okay? I’m gonna take care of you in any way I possibly can. Make sure you don’t hurt as bad.”

“It just gets tiring,” Eddie sighs. “I’m losing so much sleep.”

“How come you haven’t woken me up before, Eds? Y’know I’m always willing to try and soothe you.”

He shrugs helplessly. “It just felt like…like I’d be asking too much,” Eddie murmurs, “like I’d be taking advantage of your selflessness or something. I dunno.”

Steve crouches down in front of Eddie, the two of them still holding hands. “You are not taking advantage of me, omega. You’re carrying our precious little pup. Things are changing, both socially in our life, but especially physically for you. If something is bothering you, no matter how little it is, I want to know. It’s in my best interest to try and help you.”

Eddie’s eyes burn, his throat pinches, the space between his eyebrows is clogged. His next breath is shuttering and wet. “Okay,” he squeaks. “Sorry, I don’t know why—I’m so emotion—Think it’s my stupid hormones.”

Gently, Steve’s hands drag up Eddie’s arms, running back down with feather light fingers. “You don’t have to apologize, baby,” he murmurs, “things are complicated and you’re tired and it’s probably overwhelming. I understand.”

He hiccups, rubbing at his eyes harshly—until Steve pulls them back down with a tut, instead wiping Eddie’s cheeks himself. “Do we have th-the lavender bath salts?” His scent must be atrocious, rotten and spoiled again, as Steve pumps out pheromones—campfire and early morning dew grass—to soothe. “I just wanna feel a little normal again.”

With careful hands, Steve stands Eddie from their nest.

Eddie wobbles, leans further into Steve, and squeezes painfully tight at his hands. “My legs hurt,” he mutters.

Steve caresses Eddie’s back. “I know,” he whispers, “I know, sweetheart. We’re gonna make it better, but just give yourself time to recalibrate.”

“She won’t stop moving,” Eddie whines, “I want her to take a nap.”

“Oh, sugar,” Steve coos. “I know you do, I’m sorry she won’t calm down.” He pries them apart, only by a couple inches. “Let’s get you to the bathtub, okay? Do you, um, do you wanna use that shower chair from when you were recovering after Vecna? That way, I could fill it up enough to soak your feet and ankles, and then you’ll have some back support, too.”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters. “Yeah, that would be nice. Can I lean on you as we walk?”

Instinctively, Steve bends to allow Eddie’s weight against him. Slowly, they move one step at a time. Shuffling over the carpet, Steve’s hands still sweeping down Eddie’s back, kisses being pressed to his forehead.

He’s left alone for a moment, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

They had passed by the alarm clock—3am—and he cringes at the thought of the time. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would be asleep already. Cuddled close into Steve’s side, snoring through his mouth, hair trapped at the corners of his lips. He’d be deep in it, nightmares having long gone, and his comfort surrounding him everywhere.

Now, he’s lucky if he manages a couple hours at night. Most of his time during the day is spent making up for lost sleep. And it sucks. He has things to do. A crib to build, newborn socks to fold, pup blankets to scent. Eddie should be reading up on baby names and their meanings. Getting their apartment safe and pup-proofed; outlets covered, corners on tables turned dull, sharp objects and chemicals hidden away. But all he does is sleep or eat or itch and ache or crave Steve when he isn’t there.

For the time being, he strips himself out of his pajamas. Too big sweatpants and a plain t-shirt that he picked up from the big & tall section of their local thrift store. Maternity clothes were ugly, some too expensive. This was the compromise.

It’s weird, sometimes, to realize the changes he’s fully going through. All these annoying symptoms aside. To see the roundness of his midsection, the zigzag stretch marks crawling their way up his hips and lower belly, the barely there curve of his chest—where, yes, he’s begun to leak as embarrassing as it makes him feel—and then the extra bit of pup weight disbursed across his limbs and such. His body is forming its own nest, cushioning and comforting their little girl. Giving her the space to keep growing and to be healthy. And all he has to do is take care of himself. That starts with the bath.

Steve comes back with the folded up shower chair, setting it up inside the bathtub. Squeaking legs and the back unfolding. He plugs up the tub, sets the water to warm, and begins to fill it up with bubbles and bath salts. Lavender and eucalyptus fill the room. He looks over his shoulder, holding his hand out towards Eddie.

“You ready to get in, baby?” Steve softly asks.

Silently, Eddie takes Steve’s hands, lets himself be pulled from the toilet, and maneuvered into his shower chair. Immediately, the warm water laps around his feet and ankles. Almost instantaneously, the effects of the bath salt take its place—his legs feel new. He groans. “That’s good,” Eddie murmurs, “this is so good.”

Steve smirks at him. “I bet,” he says, “it’s gonna be even better when I moisturize your belly, omega. You’ll be more comfortable in just a moment.” He stands from where he’d been crouching at the lip of the tub, slips out of his own pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and brings forth a bottle of shea butter lotion. Steve settles himself on the lip of the tub, squirts a dollop of lotion into his palms, begins to rub his hands together like a greedy bug, and scoots himself closer to Eddie’s side. “This stuff works like magic,” he swears, “helped me so much when my scars would get tight a few summers ago.”

“Well, rub your magic off on me, magic man,” Eddie purrs.

It’s cold as soon as Steve reaches over and places his hands along Eddie’s lower belly. He hisses like a cat caught in the rain. “New nickname for me in bed, huh? Magic Man?”

“I think that’d be the actual worst name I could call you,” Eddie says, “like, probably within the top three. I’d rather eat a jar of mayonnaise than say that to you.”

“Ooo, harsh,” Steve hisses. “But, fine, I’ll take it. Is the lotion helping at all? Feel okay?”

“Slimy,” he responds, “but it smells delicious. And also, yeah, it’s kinda working.” Eddie follows the trails that Steve’s nimble fingers make, smiling pleased to himself. “I should have you do this for me everyday. Right before I go to bed.”

“If you ask, omega, I’ll do it whenever you want. Could even use a little bit of skin oil, too. That might help with any sort of skin stretching.”

“Can it be a tree tea oil? I really like the smell of that one. Or…maybe even an orange? Make me smell like a big basket of sunshine.”

Steve chuckles, low and raspy. He moves his hands up, thumbs circling around Eddie’s navel. “You already smell like sunshine—happy.”

“But imagine the citrus, Stevie! With a little bit of honey and some chocolate and…hm. Think I might be hungry.”

“Y’think?”

Eddie scoffs, shoves lightly at Steve’s shoulder, and rolls his eyes. “The doctor told me I needed extra calories anyway. So who cares if I’m hungry right now? Maybe we could go on a little drive to the gas station? Pick up a chocolate bar or two?”

Steve sits back up. Pumps another small circle of lotion in his hands and begins rubbing at Eddie’s sides and hips. “As long as you don’t mind me buying and eating some mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“Why would I care”—

“Last time I ate some, you kissed me and proceeded to tell me that I smelt like toothpaste. And you were all grossed out at the scent.” Steve snorts. “Though, that could’a just been because of your pregnancy nose.”

He paws at the tip of his nose, furrows his eyebrows, pouts. “Hey, what’s wrong with my nose?”

“Nothing, omega,” Steve assures. “You just…your sense of smell has, like, heightened significantly or something. Every little smell gets a different reaction from you. My cologne makes you gag, the milk makes you queasy, and now mint ice cream is grody to you.” He shrugs. “It’s like when I get a migraine and every smell is awful to me. No big deal.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, soaking. “Weird to think that some of the smallest things about me are changing from all this, isn’t it?”

“Kinda sorta,” Steve answers. “One one hand, yeah, it’s a little odd when you start to not like things you used to love. But also…I don’t know, carrying a whole new life is sure to change something. Even if you were physically the same, mentally you probably wouldn’t be. You’re…you’re a little more stand-offish than you were before.”

Eddie frowns. “I’m being stand-offish towards you? Am I being mean?” The mere thought of him accidentally hurting Steve’s feelings is enough to get him teary-eyed again. His lip wobbles precariously. He tries to hide it behind his hand. No use.

Steve sees him. “Oh,” he coos, “omega, baby, no.” He sits back, arms outstretched, hands on either of Eddie’s knees. “It’s just—sometimes you don’t want to be touched. And sometimes, you get your words all jumbled up and they come out a little harsher. It’s okay.”

“But harsher means meaner, Steve. I’m not being nice if I’m being harsh.”

“Eddie, I just said it’s alright. Seriously, baby. I’m not offended when you snap at me occasionally. And I mean that—when you get irritated, it’s very occasional.” His thumbs begin to rub little airy circles into Eddie’s knees. “I still feel very loved and respected and appreciated by you. I also am just considering the fact that your entire body is changing—and, yeah, sometimes that means you’re gonna be a little upset when I ask what you’re doing when you try to get comfortable, or when you get upset over some pants not fitting, or your skin being itchy, or…and the list can go on. The same way that I get all huffy when the light’s in my eyes during a migraine episode, or you’re being too loud, or the smells are too much. It’s just how our body is reacting to sudden intrusions—mine in the form of a stupid headache, yours in the form of a full on pup. It’s all no harm, no foul. Promise.”

Softly and with care, Eddie places his hands over the backs of Steve’s. “You’ll let me know if I say something that actually gets under your skin, right? When something cuts too deep?”

Steve gives a little nod. “After I’ve cooled off or let myself cry, yes, of course. As long as we talk to each other, we’re gonna be okay. That’s what we’re doing right now, Eds.” He stares a moment longer, gazing deep into Eddie’s eyes. “Do you want me to massage your legs? The pressure might help with the restlessness. Unless, y’know, you still want to go out and get chocolate bars.”

Blinking sleepily, Eddie shrugs. “I think I can hold off on the chocolate until tomorrow,” he mumbles, “all this emotional talk and the warm water is finally making me tired. Can I have a massage in bed?”

“Yes, of course, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, “let’s get you back in your comfy clothes.”

A few minutes later, and they’re back to laying in the nest.

Eddie’s surrounded by pillows upon pillows—some of them taken from their couch. There’s blankets tucked at his hips, just to keep him cushioned. And Steve’s sitting criss-cross between Eddie’s spread legs. He picks up the right leg first, sets Eddie’s ankle and foot into his lap, and begins an easy massage into his calf.

“Is this too hard? Too soft?” Steve questions softly.

“It’s good pressure,” Eddie mutters, “you could probably go a little deeper, if you want.”

Cautiously, Steve presses deeper. Enough to turn the tip of his fingers white with pressure. Hushed, “Good?” Eddie merely nods, takes a deep breath, and relaxes into their nest. For a long moment, Steve goes silent with his focus, but then he looks back to Eddie’s face. “Y’ever hear about the Omega Glow?” he asks.

“Spotted it once or twice on the front of health magazines at the grocery checkout,” Eddie answers. “Why?”

“I think you’re glowing, omega,” Steve compliments sweetly, with a purr. He drifts his hands, scratching as he goes, and now massaging at the ball of Eddie’s ankle. “I know you’re losing sleep—which sucks—but somehow, you’ve managed to still look healthy and radiant. Just absolutely beautiful.”

Eddie smiles small at Steve, eyes half-lidded in relaxation and gazing on. “You’re buttering me up, alpha,” he mumbles, “I only look good because you’re already in love with me. Also because you constantly dote over me, baby.”

“Okay, yeah, you look good to me all the time. But I’m telling the truth, swear. You’re gorgeous, Eds. Y’always are.” Steve directs his attention to his hands again, shifting over to Eddie’s right leg now. The pressure stays the same, fingers deft and working.

“She’s due in June,” Eddie says suddenly, idly. “Our little June bug.”

“You have names in mind yet?”

He shakes his head softly. “Well…sorta, kinda. At first, I thought about naming her after my mom. Ruby.” Eddie blinks, stares up at the ceiling, and sighs forlornly. “Then it made me sad. I can’t imagine looking at my pup with…with sadness all the time. And so I thought, y’know, name’s out of the question for sure. I wanted to name her after somebody. So I kept…kept thinking and thinking.

“Robin came to mind. Name our little girl Robin. I liked that. I did. But then I kinda realized that…maybe our kiddo doesn’t want to carry the weight of somebody else’s name. I, uh, I certainly don’t. But I do anyway—named after my grandpa. And that sucks because he was not a good person at all.” Eddie hangs his head, looking back at Steve. “I know Robin’s a good person, but she’s not immortal. She’ll pass on someday and our daughter will have to carry the heaviness of that grief in just her name, let alone when she gets to sit down and know her aunt. So”—he shakes his head—“I’ve got nothing. Why, do you have something in mind, alpha?”

There’s a pregnant pause where Steve says nothing. He goes shy. A flush on his cheeks, eyes down at his moving hands, and then he hums. “I was thinking Juniper,” he whispers, “it’s really…um…pretty to me.” He stills his movements. Still looking down. Quietly, “I’ve always known that if I were to ever have a pup, that Juniper was going to be my first suggestion. It’s something I’ve thought about since I first learned about the concept of designations and pups and pregnancy and stuff.”

Eddie watches Steve for a long moment. Pets at the crest of his belly in thought. He wriggles to get the attention on him, opening his arms when Steve finally looks, and beckons him closer. With Steve closer, in Eddie’s arms, he smiles. “I love the image of middle school Steve Harrington making lists of potential pup names,” he murmurs, “you’ve had this whole dream of yours figured out for a while, huh?”

Bashfully, Steve hangs his head and blushes deeper. Shrugs. “I know that it’s kind of an odd thing for a kid to think about, I guess. But…I dunno. A big, loving family always seemed like wishful thinking,” he explains, “but to dream about it was fun. To get lost in it. Future Christmases warm and full, everybody attentive, taking care of each other. A pack with all kinds of scents, mingling right under my nose, keeping me warm and satiated. The thought of having a pup of my own—somebody that is the physical manifestation of my love and passion for my mate. It just seems right for me.” Steve places his hands on either side of Eddie’s belly, gently patting along his skin, stopping when a kick rolls against his palms. There’s a tiny smile on his face, private and warm. “Juniper came to mind all the time. I’d dream about her. About a pup in my arms, looking up at me, cooing softly. And then I’d”—Steve’s smile drops for a second—“I’d wake up and she’d be gone. I’d feel like I was ripped open. Flayed. Something taken from me too early.”

Silently, Eddie cups his hands on Steve’s elbows. Thumbs tucking against his skin, running up and down in what he hopes is an obvious sign of comfort.

Steve continues, smile reappeared, “And now I’m here. Never thought I’d get here with somebody I actually cherish with all I’ve got. Especially somebody who returns that love? It…it blossoms me, I guess. There’s, like, flowers in my chest. I dunno.” He leans down, pecks the skin above Eddie’s belly button, and pauses. Breath stuttering. Eyes shiny and brimming. Watery, “I have my whole dream right in front of me. And I never want to look back.”

Now, Eddie places his hands overtop Steve’s. “I don’t want to either,” he whispers, “I want you here with me for the rest of our lives. Raising pups. Supporting each other’s careers. Sounds like a good life to me.”

“Sounds really good,” Steve agrees.

“Alpha,” Eddie breathes.

“Hm?”

“Can you help me onto my side? I wanna lay down with you now.”

With a few grunts and tight hand squeezes, Steve gets Eddie over on his left, pillows tucked around him, and lays down, too—facing each other. He strokes a single finger down the slope of Eddie’s nose. Watches his eyes flutter. “I love you, Eds,” Steve murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers.

Sleep comes easier after that.

——— Steve introduces headphones for the pup.

“She’s gonna have the most sensitive ears in the world,” Eddie says, “why the hell do we need to get her headphones right now? The sound of her own farts might set her off in a little hissy fit.”

His mate does his signature disappointed mom pose. Hands on his hips. Scowl soft on his face. Bitchy. “They’re not for when she’s born, Eddie. It’s for her to listen to music now.” He comes close to the nest, where Eddie’s laid back, relaxing, reading a book. “All I have to do is”—Steve stretches the headphones widely—“open ‘em up as wide as your belly is”—

“You make it seem like I swallowed a whole watermelon,” Eddie points out dryly.

Steve huffs. “I open them up,” he repeats—so bitchy. “And place them over your belly.” He leans down, stuffing them over either side of Eddie’s bare belly; it’s been hanging out for the better half of the day, what with the incoming late spring heat and all. “Lastly, what I’ll do is plug them into our radio and then little bug can listen to music.”

Eddie levels Steve with a curious eyebrow. “Is this your master plan to get our little girl obsessed with Toto before I have a say in anything?”

Casually, yet completely suspicious, Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Oh, it so totally is!” Eddie crows, jutting his finger at Steve. “You’re trying to corrupt our pup’s taste in music before I even have a chance!”

“You’re just gonna play Metallica all the time! She needs a little flavor in her life, omega!”

He scoffs. “Metallica saved our asses, you know that? You say that like Metallica is gonna be bad for her.”

“I’m not,” Steve squawks. “I’m just—I—Okay, maybe I just reallywanna have somebody in our family that at least shares some music tastes with me.” He pouts, big Beaker frown on his face, arms crossed tight over his chest. “So many of the pups in our pack back home share your taste in music. I just wanna have something in common with our actual biological pup, y’know? Like…like maybe by chance she’ll wanna bop her head to a little bit of Madonna or…or Belinda Carlisle or Bonnie Tyler or something in the car, y’know?”

Eddie softens his expression. He can feel the corners of his mouth sour, going downturned. His scent flaring as sweet as it can go in the face of the deeply charred edges of Steve’s own.

Metallica and Iron Maiden and Judas Priest are definitely some of the bands he wants to introduce their pup to. Eddie’s not going to beat around the bush when it comes to that. He has every intention in the world when it comes to playing metal for their girl. What he really doesn’t like is to see his alpha so upset and defensive over his own tastes—all as if they don’t matter, even years into their bond.

In the sticky silence that follows Steve’s long winded explanation, Eddie finds the space to toss his hair up out of the way, sit himself in a way that gives Steve access to between his legs, and so his line of sight is able to make out the arch of the headphones. He sighs. “Stevie,” he murmurs, “baby, what do you wanna play for her?”

Steve sniffles. “Um…not anything you’re gonna”—

“I like your taste in music, alpha. It’s just…yeah, sometimes I like riling you up,” Eddie admits softly. “You get all bitchy and huffy with me and it’s kinda…it’s really hot, okay? I promise I’m not trying to intentionally be dismissive to hurt your feelings. Am I doing it as sort of an inside joke? Yes, I can be man enough to admit. But it’s not funny anymore, I can see that now.” He pets his hands down the sides of his belly, gesturing vaguely at the headphones. “Tell me what you wanna play. I wanna know.”

“I, uh, I wanna play The Muppet Movie soundtrack,” Steve mumbles, “figured it’d be appropriate and sweet.” He shrugs after he says it—all nonchalant, yet shy. Completely unbothered, but still affected in his muted Steve ways.

Eddie blinks, stunned for a moment. “Oh,” he breathes. “Wow…um…I wasn’t expecting that. Stevie, of course I wanna—You have the cassette ready?”

Steve simply nods his head. “It’s already in the radio,” he mutters, “all I gotta do is plug in the headphones.”

“Well, bring it over.”

Moments later, their new portable radio is sitting precariously in the nest. Headphones plugged in. Cassette whirring away. Steve forwards the tape, tongue peeking from his between his lips to find the estimated start of the song he wants.

Eddie goes to ask, “What’s first”—

Before he can get an answer, Steve is laying prone on their bed, forehead resting against the middle of Eddie’s belly. Under his breath, he begins to croon the first lyrics of “Rainbow Connection”. His voice is soft, yet ragged with inexperience around the edges. It’s warm and inviting. He presses kisses in the breaks where Eddie suspects the banjo to be playing. And then, out of nowhere—

PBBBTTT—Steve blows a solid, loud raspberry against Eddie’s skin.

Eddie laughs, full bodily, kicks his leg out against Steve’s hip and attempts to swat at him. “Don’t”—he pants—“don’t do that, you dick!”

Steve looks up from under his heavy, dark eyelashes. Mirth. Solid, unmissable, absolutely unmistakeable mirth shines bright from within him. And he does it—again. PPPBBBTT!

He jerks against the nest, caught in their crumpled blanket, head thrown back on the pillows. Futilely, Eddie attempts to wriggle away, but Steve traps him down with his giant damn hands. “Stop!” Eddie cackles out, ticklish and breathless. “Y’know that I—I can’t take tickles like”—Steve kisses right above Eddie’s belly button before blowing another raspberry—“oh my god! Steve, alpha, you can’t, I’m gonna”—and there it is. A few droplets of pee from his tired, pressed on bladder. Just the thing he was trying to avoid.

However, before he can sit up and shove Steve’s big head away, Steve completely draws back. His fingertips pressed tight to his lips. Chuckling under his breath. “Ow, oh my god,” Steve laughs out. “She totally just”—

“Oh, did she karate kick you?” Eddie smirks. “Maybe she’s ticklish, too, sweetheart.”

“Little bug totally just let one loose on me, that turd. And I was playing her the sweet, sweet voice of Kermit the Frog.”

Eddie laughs breathily from his nostrils. “Didn’t you say that what’s her face from high school sounded like Kermit?”

“You mean Tammy Thompson? Robin’s first big lesbian high school crush? Yeah, she totally sounds like a strangled Muppet, swear on my life.” Steve sits up on his haunches, gently removes the headphones from Eddie’s belly, and chuckles again. “Looks like she doesn’t like when a Muppet sings at her.”

He snorts. “Actually, I think she doesn’t like it when her dad blows big, loud fart kisses all over her. And makes her papa piss his pants.”

“Wait—You…”

“Peed a little in my pants? Yes, Steve, I did. I’m like a leaky faucet down there, babe.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Why did you have to phrase it like”—

“Can you help me up so I can change my underwear? I also still have pee I need to get out of me. And you trying to make me laugh isn’t helping.”

There’s a small pout on Steve’s face. Mock offended. “Didn’t know your bladder hated my kisses that much.”

“It does when you make your omega writhe like a stupid worm in our nest,” Eddie huffs. “Now helpme up, Steve.”

Steve pulls him up with a not so subtle, “Bossy, bossy,” under his breath. Eddie can only roll his eyes and flip him the bird.

——— “When the pup is ready, you’re gonna have to help me down the steps outside,” Eddie says one day in late April. They’re about six weeks out from the due date. June is just around the corner. Things are getting more serious.

It’s all nerve wrecking.

“I’ll make sure the go-bag stays in the car,” Steve responds tiredly, “make sure my arms are completely empty to help you, promise.”

Oh, yeah, and he’s been rambling on and on and on as things really start to take flight. It’s like Robin, somehow, has infested his very thinking. Any little concern he can have, Eddie voices.

“And towels for the passenger seat.” He’s sitting atop a yoga ball—something Robin dropped by last week. It’s a pain in the ass, but he figures he should at least try it. No matter how dumb it makes him feel. There’s a jar of peanut butter in his hand, he scoops another glob and passes it between his lips. Muffled, “Don’t wanna get gunk all over the BMW. Make it lose its value. That would suck.”

Steve’s across from them in their living room, crouched down on their floor, folding stacks upon stacks of little onesies. He grimaces. “Yeah, that would suck majorly, Eddie.”

“Maybe I should just wear a nightgown or something. One of those muumuu things that Mrs. Henderson has. Make sure that my water breaks and just”—he mimics the sound of water releasing; a loud swoosh—“all over the floor. Then, I’ll just have to change my underwear and maybe…I dunno…I won’t get juice and shit everywhere.”

“Eddie, dude, you have to know how disgusting that sounds right now, yeah?”

He raises his eyebrows. Delivers a flat look. “You say that as if it won’t happen,” Eddie muffles around another heavy bite of peanut butter, “but it’s gonna be far, far worse. I’m talking mucus plug and placenta and”—

“Eds, please I just finished eating my”—

“I might shit when I’m pushing,” Eddie mock-whispers, “just full on dookie when I’m having our pup.” He giggles when Steve gags. Rocks himself on his yoga ball in self-satisfaction. “Not to mention diapers are gonna be needing changed. You’re gonna have to learn the first time. I’ll watch you, too tired from delivering in my hospital bed. Pup might have green poop. May just piss all over you or”—

“Eddie!” Steve finally snaps. “Please, baby, I get it. I don’t need anymore images right now. It’s making me nauseous.”

“You get used to it,” Eddie says. “At least you aren’t crazy constipated like I am. And your chest isn’t all sore and tender. And you aren’t having to bounce on a stupid fucking yoga ball,” he grumbles.

Steve sighs through his nose. “You’re right,” he concedes. “Just thinking about your water breaking is making me anxious, I’m sorry. I know it won’t be for a little while longer, y’know, but I’m just…shit, it’s getting real.”

“It’s been real, Stevie. But it’s okay to be anxious, I get it. The idea that I’m gonna be pushing a whole pup out of my vagina in a few weeks is insane. The fact that I’ve been developing a pup for roughly nine months is even crazier. She’s got strong bones and knows how to make faces and moves around a bunch. And then she’s gonna be here, screaming and crying and covered in her own mucus, and that’s…that’s real.”

“She’ll probably look like a little fruit or something, too. My mom used to tell me I looked like a dried apricot when I was born.”

Eddie scoffs. “Like you could ever look bad.”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno, I was ugly enough for my mom to turn to her nurse and just”—he mimics a dry heave; BLEGH—“puke just everywhere. All over the nurse, on the railing of the hospital bed, on the”—

“Alright, alright!” Eddie nags. “I get it, she puked. Jesus.”

“Taste of your own medicine.”

He heightens his voice, makes it squeaky in the back of his throat. “Taste of your own medicine,” Eddie mocks. He drops his voice again. “Your mom probably thought you were a beautiful pup. She was just exhausted and probably a little dehydrated and at the sight of you—pure relief flooded her system and it came out the only way her body knew how.”

Steve snorts. “It’s funnier if it was because I was ugly, though.” He plops down another stack of onesies, stretches his legs out and deliberately, slowly, begins folding again. There’s a contemplative, long moment of silence. A playful smirk dances over Steve’s face. Lightly, he says, “Y’think our pup is gonna come out and we’ll see her and just think, jeez she looks like a wrinkly little tomato. Because she probably will, you have to prepare yourself for that.”

His spoon scrapes along the sides of his peanut butter jar. Every last morsel on his spoon. “Then she comes out wrinkly,” Eddie says, “and red and wet and gross. Whatever. I’ll just be more relieved that I don’t have to push anymore and also that she’s there. Wrapped up in one of our scented baby blankets. Which”—he stops to swallow down another glob from his utensil, muffled talking once more—“speaking of which, alpha, we need to make sure all of the baby blankets are scented. And that her bassinet is tidy and sturdy. Oh, and that the car seat is properly secured in the backseat.”

“Omega, I promise, we are going to get all of that done. You don’t have to fret.”

Eddie sighs. “I know,” he whines. “But I just—what if it’s go time and my water is broken and I’m in a bunch of pain, but we’re still scrambling around the apartment to make sure all the shit is in place? And, like, we get there to the hospital and she arrives, but then we don’t have an extra change of clothes? Her diapers aren’t scented and fresh? And…and her car seat is wobbly and we get into an accident and”—

Steve’s scent blooms throughout the room. Rosemary, campfire wood, and dew grass. “Omega,” he rumbles, “I can tell you, right now, that we will have everything ready, okay?”

“But how can we”—

“We’ll make a checklist, Eds. Sit down together over lunch one day, write down every last thing we need. Onesies, socks, blankets, sweatpants for you, migraine medication for me—so on and so forth. Every last thing will be taken care of.” Steve rises onto his knees, awkwardly scooting across the carpet to stop at Eddie’s legs. He sets his hands on Eddie’s knees and looks up at him. “If anything goes wrong,” he murmurs, “we will find a way to take care of it and make it right again. Something’s missing? I’ll call Robin from the hospital, have her bring us what we need. If we don’t have the car seat in the right way? Then, I’ll find somebody who knows more than us—first time parents, by the way—who will know how to install it correctly. All this worrying is gonna make you sick, Eds. We’re gonna be okay.”

Despite the peanut butter surely sitting stubborn at the corners of Eddie’s lips, Steve still sits up a little straighter and brings their lips together in a slow, soft kiss. When he pulls back, Steve cups Eddie’s cheeks in his hands, and pumps more calming scent into the air. There’s a lot of melting passion in Steve’s eyes—Eddie can’t help but feel comforted by it.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Eddie echoes, even as his voice threatens to shake. He bumps his forehead against Steve’s, their noses squish from the impact. Attempts to sigh completely into the comfort. It’s not all the way, but just enough. Softly, “Do you wanna help me with my exercises?”

Steve takes the peanut butter jar from Eddie when he passes it off, setting it behind himself onto the coffee table. Then, his hands sit midair—clueless and confused. “Show me how to do it?”

Eddie takes Steve’s hands and places them on his hips. “Make sure you’re holding on firmly, but not so tight that it hurts me”—Steve tests the pressure and Eddie makes sure to nod at it—“there you go, that’s good. Now, what I’m gonna do is rock side to side; I just need you to keep me steady, sway me a little bit. I’m gonna put my hands on your shoulders”—and he does, beginning to shift his hips, pushing himself on the balls of his feet—“if you get uncomfortable on your knees, we can stop.”

“I’ll just get a throw pillow once I get to that point,” Steve says, “I’ve got you, okay? You keep moving and I’ll follow after you. Keep it easy and light.”

Slowly, gently, Eddie continues to ease into his exercise. Steve, as he said, keeps track. Their stares locked and soft, hands firm on his hips, and the steady rhythm of their bodies swaying together.

He takes a deep breath and releases it; Steve follows suit. “We should practice all those breathing exercises at some point. So I’m ready when I deliver,” Eddie murmurs between them.

“We will,” Steve assures firmly. “Wanna make sure you remain as calm as possible. No panicked breaths or fits.”

“I was reading up on the breathing,” he says, “and it seems so silly. Just”—Eddie does his best to mimic it—“hee-hee hoo.” Unable to help himself, his face splits into two with the force of his grin. It’s hard to contain it, though, when Steve only mirrors it. Especially so when they fall into breathless little giggles. When he gains his composure, he smirks. Lighthearted and at ease. He continues, “Y’see it all the time in movies and TV shows. Makes me wonder if any of it is real or if these book authors are just trying to make a quick buck off of unsure first time parents. I bet so many expecting omegas get to the delivery room and just forget everything they read up on.”

“Well, you were a theater kid, Eds. If you manage to forget what you read, I’ll be shocked,” Steve lightly teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You forget that I barely passed English class. That was mainly because I couldn’t present a book report to save my life. What I’m saying, though, is that you should be prepared for me to possibly start screaming. Maybe even break your hand.”

Steve pulls back a hair. Eyes cowed, eyebrows raised into his hairline, pure picture of disbelief. Sternly, yet playfully, “You better not break my hand. We’re already gonna have to fight for the cost of this delivery to be covered.”

“No promises, Stevie. Things could ramp up within a blink of an eye. No matter how prepared I am.”

A kiss is pressed to Eddie’s lips; he watches Steve lick his own. Hum—savoring the faint taste of peanut butter. Murmurs, “Then we better make sure we’re prepared, huh?”

“Damn right, alpha. And you better be prepared for me to possibly puke on the nurse.”

“Duly noted, Eds. Du-ly noted.”

——— It’s either his insides messing with him or the real deal.

At this point in the pregnancy, Eddie’s not sure which one he prefers. On one hand, the thought of delivering a baby in the middle of the night is downright stomach swooping. On the other, however, he’s not sure how much more he can take.

He’s waddling, he’s achy and swollen, it’s harder to lug himself around, his sleep schedule is shot to shit, and the pissing every twenty minutes is wearing him very, very thin.

Forty weeks has been unkind to him.

Safe to say, he’s over it.

Steve’s over it, too—given how cranky Eddie’s been. They’ve picked at each other, arguments here and there, harsh words tossed with little care as to where they land. He’s trying to bite his tongue, but the exhaustion is ramping, as well as the stress of nesting and—

That’s another thing he’s been doing—nesting.

He flutters from room to room. Scenting pillows and blankets, vacuuming and mopping and vacuuming again, covering outlets and taping up table corners, washing every single pup bottle over and over and over again, pumping milk and labeling it and freezing it, rechecking every expiration date on food in their pantry, and then back to square one—scenting. Eddie’s probably tidied the bathrooms at least twenty times within the last two weeks, despite both rooms not needing it anymore. He has interrupted sports games on the television because he needs to spot clean the carpet. And any time he’s up on his feet, Steve snaps at him to relax.

“Eddie, you’re feet and ankles are swollen, you need to sit down and take a break.”

“It’s not clean enough in here, alpha! Let me do this”—

“I’ll do it, Eds! Oh my goodness. You are driving me up a wall.”

Steve apologizes every single time. He does. He’s been sweet on Eddie every single day, getting him what he needs, doing what must be done, checking up on their to-go list every time Eddie so much as suggests it. Eddie’s well taken care of. Of course, he returns the affection and sincerities back.

It’s easy to take all the niceness and sweetness for granted within these last two weeks. Just from the mere struggle of having to keep going. He’s come so very close to asking the doctors to just manually dilate him, send him on his way, let him have his pup now. But—well, there was no immediate need to do so. He just has to carry her to full term. Apparently, full term means full term—forty weeks or more.

He’s over it.

Today, Steve’s sticking close. Anxious and fretting. His instincts are bouncing off the wall.

Eddie’s making them hold hands. Squeezing with the pain. The contractions are every ten minutes right now—frequent enough they’ve started counting. After thirty seconds, Eddie relaxes, breathing out deeply.

“It’s not fake,” Steve murmurs, rubbing into the back of Eddie’s hand. “Baby, these are too familiar to each other for it to be anything but real.”

“I—I don’t want it to be real,” he grits.

Steve scoots closer, wrapping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders. “I know, honey,” he whispers, “I know that it’s anxiety inducing. You’re gonna be okay, though, I know it. Gonna be right next to you as long as I possibly can.”

Eddie, gritting his teeth, merely nods his head. He closes his eyes at the pressure building inside him, gearing for another contraction. Because—yeah, shit—it’s real. But all that passes over him is a sudden, terrible urge to piss. His eyes fly open and he tugs at Steve’s hand. “Help—Help me up, I need to piss, like, right now.”

Doing as he’s told, Steve quickly tugs them up from the couch, steadying his hands on Eddie’s hips and—

A gush. There’s warmth spreading. Something spilling down the insides of his thighs.

He had meant to be wearing something loose and easy and manageable, but…time was spiraling and it just seemed unnecessary. So, here he is, staring down at the crotch of his favorite sweatpants. Stunned and nervous.

“Alpha?” he calls out, shaky and shocked. “Is…is that what—Did I just”—

“Okay,” Steve mutters—his own voice is tight and wracked with nerves—“omega, don’t freak out, but”—

“Don’t freak out?!” Eddie snaps. “I’m having a fucking pup right now and you’re telling me not to freak out?! My fuckin’ cervix is literally spreading itself wider to deliver a baby with your big ass had and you want me to not”—

“Alright, Eds, I get it. I’m sorry.” Steve gently maneuvers them around the coffee table, leading them to the opening of their living room. “Let me get you a new pair of sweats, okay? The towels are in the footwell of the passenger seat, go bag is in the trunk, and the carseat is secured. I’ll be right back, omega.”

Eddie breathes—in and out and in and out and—“Please don’t leave me,” he whimpers, “I c-can’t—I don’t know”—

Steve pets his hands down Eddie’s tense arms. “Shhh,” he murmurs, “you’re okay, Eds. I just need to make sure we get you into some clean pants. I don’t want you to accidentally chafe your skin because the crotch of your sweatpants is wet, okay? I will be right back.”

Before he can protest any further, Steve is dashing down the hallway. The clunks from the stuck dresser drawers echo throughout the apartment.

He takes a quick glance around the space near him. Grimacing at the wet stain on the carpet by the couch. They’ll have to do some serious spot remover treatment there, but it should be fixable. Should be.

It hits him like a punch to the gut, standing in his own mess, his aches waxing, that this is it. He’s going to step out the front door with Steve by his side. They’ll go down the stairs one careful, measured step at a time. Drive to the hospital.

And Eddie will deliver their pup.

A whole being. From inside to outside. With a mash of their features.

No more evenings of quiet, soaking silence—sitting side by side with no worries outside of the very moment they exist in. Gone will be the days of complete restfulness and early breakfasts that are all their own. He’ll have to start watching his language, maybe even invest in a swear jar. He’s going to have to re-familiarize himself with sex education materials with designation notes and presentation diagrams from middle and high school; learn how to answer all those curious questions that will surely pop up down the road. There will be days full of play, nights full of snotty tears, and sick in-betweens where everybody’s miserable; just cranky and awful.

There won’t be just the two of them in the nest. A space always kept for their pup—and down the road, pups—to crawl between them and snuggle. At some point, a high chair at one end of the table, a training toilet sitting alongside theirs, rubber ducks balancing dangerously on the lip of the tub, dirty laundry and filthy diapers up to their knees, warm bottles of milk to spoonfuls of mashed sweet potatoes to Cheerios and berries to Thanksgiving turkey with sparkling cider, all the milestones tossed together.

He’ll cry at the first day of school, the graduation, the growing up and moving on.

There will be father-daughter dances; the two of them swapping to dance with their bug. Prom photos. Cliche high school drama. Gossip galore. Homework fights and bitter arguments and groundings. Hugs and kisses and cuddles; walks and runs and monkey bar climbing; comfort and grief and love.

Tonight, there will be one more addition. Though, truly, there’s been another addition for months. Now, she will come home. Breathe in their scents. Giggle at their voices. Cry for their touch. Coo at the warmth.

Eddie will perform lullabies as if they’re number one charters. Steve will read books as if they’re sonnets. And she’ll absorb it all with her big doe eyes; because she’ll have them, as long as they both do. She’ll blink in awe and blink with sleep and blink just to blink. She’ll breathe and laugh and gurgle. She’ll puke and poop and piss. She’ll rock and crawl and toddle and walk and run—run for miles and miles, bike around the neighborhood bragging about her training wheels being off, skate over a bump and fall down and scrape her knee, come inside to the warmth of their arms to get the bad feelings swept away.

He’ll be there with a bandage. The antibiotic ointment. His lips for a kiss. A hand for the help.

He’ll just be there.

Ready. Always.

That terrifies him. Shakes him. Thrills him.

To have been a loner, then a friend, a lover, and now he’ll be a father.

It’s something he’s wanted, distantly, like an unshakeable want—some dreamlike thing; a mansion, the convertible, money upon money; a family.

Here he’s about to have it. Why is he so nervous to walk out the door and make it happen?

He tilts into the doorway, forehead creased in pain, his trembling hands cupping the underside of his belly. Breathes; or, tries to at least. And peels his eyes open when Steve’s feet make thumps in the carpet.

“Oh, shit, omega,” Steve rushes. He clumsily trips over his feet, slotting himself right at Eddie’s side. “You’re okay…you’re okay,” he tries to soothe.

Eddie nods. His teeth squeak from how hard he’s grinding them together. Then, thirty seconds later—over. With a heaving, stuttering breath, he steadies himself. Gains his balance. Stands up straight. “What do you need me to do, alpha?” he mumbles.

“Um—I just need you to—Just stand there.” Steve, quickly, kneels down onto the floor. He reaches up, curls his fingers into the damp with sweat waistband of Eddie’s pants, and begins to gently pull downwards. “Lift your left leg,” he murmurs—Eddie follows his instructions, albeit sluggishly—“good, now your right and—Yeah, there, that’s good. Just gonna…” Steve tosses the soiled sweatpants to the side, thrown somewhere for them to find and wash later. He bunches up one leg, slots Eddie’s corresponding foot into the hole, and slowly works them over Eddie’s legs again. When they’re finally up, Steve stands, tucking the drawstring into the waistband of the sweatpants. “There,” he breathes, “all better?”

He simply nods again. Breathing deep. “Need my shoes,” Eddie mutters, “just do the…the weird flip-flops that we found at the gas station. They should be fine.”

When Steve comes back again, he slaps the flip-flops onto the floor, matching them up to the correct foot. He places a hand on Eddie’s waist, the other gripping tight to Eddie’s right, and holds him steady. “Careful,” Steve whispers, “just slip your foot—There you go. There you”—with the soft tip of his nose, Steve nudges at Eddie’s cheek—“look at me, omega?”

With a soft, questioning chirp, Eddie focuses his tired eyes on Steve’s.

“You are doing such a good job so far,” Steve softly praises. There’s a building purr, crescendoing with his gentle words. Deep and rumbly and so incredibly soothing, Eddie already feels some of his wound tension loosen. “I am so proud of you,” he continues on in a murmur, “of how far you’ve made it. The work that you’ve put in. How you’ve let me help, how you’ve adjusted, how you’ve grown. And I am in awe of how strong you are, omega. I am in awe of you in every single way. I am so ready to do this with you,” he affirms, “and I have never felt more ready for anything in my life. I’ve got you.”

Teary eyed and sniffling, Eddie bobs his head. Hiccups. “Thank you, alpha,” he breathes, “thank you.”

A soft smile adorns Steve’s face. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Eddie, despite being lost in all his mushy feelings, snorts. Chokes on his breath for a second, stuttering through it, squeezing his fingers around Steve’s when he feels the curl of flagging. But he leans more into his mate, nosing alongside Steve’s. “Let’s get outta here.”

——— Eight gruesome, miserable hours later and he hears it—

Bug.

Screaming. Crying. He peers over to her—slimy and pink and wrinkled to all hell. She’s alive, though, and well. Enduring the pain was hell, the way Steve tried to encourage him throughout pissed him off from time to time, and yeah…he did indeed shit the bed, literally. The product, the aftermath—it was worth it.

So incredibly worth it.

He loosens his tight grasp on Steve’s left hand. Drops it away with a gasp. Eyes big and bright and awestruck, looking out past Steve to see their pup getting cleaned, weighed, ready to be swaddled. And then Eddie looks back to Steve.

The softness and marvel shining on Steve’s face is enough to bring fat tears to Eddie’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall—not yet. There’s a smile pushing at Steve’s cheeks, bunching them up so high on his face. Eyes crinkled, immeasurably soft. His left hand has found a home on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing tight to keep steady.

“There she is,” Eddie croaks, “lookin’ like a little tomato, alpha.”

Steve sniffles, his lower lip wobbles, and his grasp only tightens. “She’s so stinkin’ cute,” he shakily says, “and yet so freaking ugly at the same time.”

“Hey! I have you know I just spent hours pushing her out of my body.”

His mate nods his head. Cheeks darkening and blotching from his very noticeable free falling tears. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs with his next swallow—hard and clogging. “I-I know, omega. You did so freaking amazing”—he looks down at Eddie. And that’s when Eddie sees Steve in his entirety: wide gummy smile on his face, fat happy cheeks, blotchy multi-colored skin, eyes red rimmed and shedding tears, his eyelashes stuck together, and the biggest glint in his eyes. It’s beautiful. “I’m so proud of you,” Steve continues to say, “literally, like, the toughest, most resilient, most amazing person I know.”

Eddie reaches up to Steve’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks and wiping at them tenderly. “I’m proud of you, too,” he murmurs right back, “you kept yourself together so well. And you took such great care of me in all these months and…and you are just…sunshine, Steve. Alpha, you are the light of my world.” Over Steve’s shoulder, Eddie spots the nurses turning back to them, their little girl swaddled up in a white and pink polka-dotted blanket. “And here comes our little star,” he whispers.

When the nurses finally approach, they gesture for Eddie to curl his arms close, and then promptly set her softly in the cradle of his arms. She’s got chunky, flushed cheeks. Sparse dark brown eyebrows and a curly little patch of hair atop her head. Pouty pink lips. Downturned eyes. And—

“Look at that,” Steve coos. His right index finger comes close, curled into his palm, as he brushes his knuckle down the soft curve of her left cheek. “She’s got a little mole right by her ear.”

“Got your eyes, too,” Eddie murmurs, “wonder if they’ll be the same color.”

Gently, Steve lays his head atop Eddie’s. Half-sitting, half-standing from the hospital bed. Hand drifting to fully lay across the broad stretch of Eddie’s shoulders. Huddled in tight and close. “She’s got your nose,” Steve whispers, “just like in all your little pup photos.” An involuntary happy chirp slips free from Steve’s throat; Eddie can’t help but respond with a muted, careful one of his own. Steve sighs quietly, wistfully.

The tender, pretty bloom of Steve’s scent wafts and washes over Eddie. Smoky and herbal, yet this time curled with something new—the sweet juice of a ripe strawberry. Eddie knows he must make the room smell like milk and vanilla and campfire, judging by the hushed, low timer of Steve’s pleased purr. Bass and deep, vibrating right along the joint of Eddie’s right shoulder.

One of the nurses clears her throat softly, presenting them with the live birth certificate. She has a pen clicked and ready in her hand. “Do we have a name in mind?”

Eddie bounces his eyes up to Steve for a mere moment, catching his gaze. There’s something warm and knowing in it. He’d been thinking on names for a long, long while. Trying, yet constantly failing to come up with his own. There had been so many options, some that felt too basic, some that were too longwinded and elegant, others that were just…not them. After much deliberation, there had only been one name in mind that he found himself circling back to. One that could make a dream come true. With a steadying breath, pride and warmth surging in his chest, “Juniper,” Eddie says, “Robin…”—

“Munson,” Steve finishes. “Juniper Robin Munson.” The nurse turns away, filling in the appropriate blanks. And as she’s not looking, Steve swats at Eddie’s shoulder with wide, teary eyes. “Robin? I thought you didn’t want to name our pup after anybody!” he quietly squawks.

He shrugs as carefully as he possibly can, arms still full of pup. “I don’t know…it just felt right. Plus, when I was thinking over the middle name—just agonizing over it—I figured…why not name her after Robin? ‘Cause, like, Robin’s a cool person. A fantastic one! Our kid’s gonna love her.”

“And if she doesn’t…”

“No way in hell is that happening,” Eddie says firmly, proudly. “Robin would soon rather get rabies than be a bad aunt to your kid, alpha. I think the name is perfect. Unless you”—

“No, no, it’s awesome. I was just…just making sure that’s what you wanna go with. Permanent decision, y’know?”

Eddie grins to himself. “Oh, I know, Steven Edward Harrington. I know that names are very permanent.”

Steve scoffs and swats at him again. “Like you have a leg to stand on, Edward Steven Munson.” He peers back at Juniper. Smile wide and audible—gummy and clicking with his spit. “Based on all her movement in the womb, I’m calling it right now the our little June-Bug is gonna be a wild child just like you were.”

“Me? Wild child? I was actually a pretty mellow kid, believe it or not. You’re the one that purposefully crawled around backwards and told me, at length, that you used to hang upside down on the monkey bars and attempt to eat handfuls of wood chips while at the park.” Eddie snorts. He watches as Juniper scrunches her nose, coos sweetly. Gently, he pets the pad of his right thumb over her cheek, relishing in the softness of her skin. “But, yeah, Junie’s gonna be insane. If her little kicks were anything to go off of. Thank god I pup-proofed all the corners of the tables.”

“She won’t be walking for a while, omega, we don’t have to worry about that just yet.”

“Steve, if I may reiterate, you used to crawl around backwards. Juniper could be, like, a super-powered pup or something that just gets up and starts toddling at any given moment.” For now, though, he holds their pup close and smiles. “She’s calm right now, though. Let’s soak in it a little longer.”

Leaning in impossibly closer, Steve presses a warm, lingering kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Murmuring, warmly, “I love you so much, omega. Gonna be the greatest papa in the world.”

He sighs, relaxed. “I love you, too, alpha. We’re gonna be just fine.”

And, despite all the worry he carried during this pregnancy, Eddie finds himself believing that. Everything is right where it needs to be. His dream man is at his side. Their future is in his arms. The hardships, the annoyances—everything—was worth it.

Things are looking up for him—for the both of them—and he’s excited to see what comes of it. Bubbly laughter, gummy smiles, hugs and all. Perfect.

💕—————💕 Thank you for reading! Uh...this wasn't supposed to be over 25k words, but....oops?

#bringing this one back from the dead while it's on my mind #pregnant omega eddie munson...we still talk about you babe #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #omegaverse steddie #omegaverse au #mpreg #cw omegaverse #cw mpreg #omega eddie munson #alpha steve harrington

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