Surprise! - Roommate/Dad!Hobie x Roommate/Mum!Reader
wc: 1.9k ish (but will be editing)
I don't give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai
As always it's not well proofread so if you see anything glaringly obvious or super bad please tell me
cw: talk of nausea/vomiting but no actual description of vomiting. Unexpected pregnancy and childbirth mentioned.
Guys this one is a bit shit, written late at night and im so tired but I really wanted it to be done. Broke my heart a little bc it was one of my fav ideas and I don’t feel I executed it like I wanted to. Anyway it is what it is and I should be returning to edit (will probs put date of editing when I do.)
All that to say thank you for reading and I should hopefully have better fics coming. 💋
You and Hobie are roommates with benefits. Well that’s a bit of a stretch. You live together, sure, except you live together in the same room, and in the same bed, and you sleep together, and neither of you sleep with anyone else, and you are exclusively having sex with each other… Roommates.
This morning was just like any other, You wake up with Hobie lying on top of you. He’s got a pair of boxers and not much else. You lie there, looking at the ceiling, when your stomach turns slightly and your mouth fills with water.
“Hobie” You say urgently, trying to push him off you.
“‘Mgonnathrowup” You manage to get out before sprinting to the toilet. Hobie follows you and sits next to you on the cold floor, rubbing your back and holding your hair.
“Oh luv, okay i’ve got you.”
You’re done quickly and sit with your back to the bath while Hobie gets you ice water. “Little sips, don’t overwhelm your body.” He instructs as you rest your head against him. “When you’re ready we’ll get you to bed.” You try to nod but it makes you too dizzy. So you settle for letting out a quiet ‘mhm’. Eventually Hobie carries you to bed and sets you up with a trash can, some saltines and a big bottle of water.
“I don’t know if it’s something I ate, I’ve been feeling nauseous for like a week but I haven’t thrown up until today.”
“Hmm tha’s weird, want me to call the doctors?”
“Nah I think i’ll be fine, maybe I just needed to get it out.”
Three identical mornings later, Hobie decides you need the doctor whether you like it or not. He calls up your doctors office and sits on hold for 3 boring minutes.
“Hello, my name is Jamie, how may I assist you this morning?”
“Hullo, my friend needs a doctors appointment.” he says, rattling off your details.
“Okay, and what is it concerning?”
“She’s been nauseous for two weeks and started throwing up in the mornings, we thought it was like a stomach flu or something.”
“Okay, and is there any possibility of pregnancy?”
“She has sex, if thats what you mean.”
“Has she taken a pregnancy test?”
“Well I’d suggest she does that and then if its negative go to the emergency room and if its positive call back for a gynaecology appointment to discuss your options.”
“Oh, alright thanks.” She hangs up, and Hobie stands in the kitchen for a moment. Pregnancy?
“What’re you doing?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen.
“I was calling the doctor’s office about your sickness and they said to do a pregnancy test first.” He watches as your face flickers with confusion that slowly morphs into a panicked concern.
“A pregnancy test? I’m not- shit. Hobes what if i’m pregnant?!” He can see you hyperventilating, your eyes searching his face and before he’s even formed a thought, his arms are around you.
“It’s okay, i’ve got you, we’ll figure this out.” He feels you nod shakily against him. “Do you want me to go get it or do you want me to ask a friend to pick it up?” You start to cry messy tears, your
“I don’t want you to go but I also don’t want people to know”
“I can ask Peter, he’ll keep it under wraps.”
“Promise?” Hobie kisses your foreheadsl
“Of course luv. I’ve got you.”
Hobie picks up his phone and calls Peter Parker.
“Pete, mate I need a favour.”
“Can you drop off a pregnancy test at my flat.”
“Yes, and keep it hush hush… between me and you.”
“Thanks mate, I owe you one.”
15 minutes later theres a knock at the door.
“Ah mate you’re my hero.” Hobie says as he opens the door to Peter with a paper bag. You’re curled up on the couch, a pack of saltines on your lap and you’re unfortunately right in Peter’s line of sight.
“Hi, you feeling okay?” You hum and nod slowly.
“Yeah, just nauseous.” You reply, smiling at him.
“Been there. Anyway I hope you get the result you want. I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Thank you so much. We really appreciate it.”
Peter leaves and you go to the bathroom and do the dreaded ‘pee-on-a-stick’ thing. Hobie waits outside until you call him in to wait. You both watch it develop.
“Okay that’s the control line.” You say, face in the instructions.
“Hobie. Say you can’t see a second line.”
Two weeks later you were in a cold doctor’s office, cold jelly on your lower stomach as a weird probe searches your abdomen, manoeuvred by a very kind ultrasound tech.
“So thats a lovely ovary there.” She says, pointing to a darkish circle on the grainy screen.
“Lovely ovary.” You echo, clearly in shock but mildly proud of yourself.
“And that’s what we call the sac. So theres an embryo there, its about the size of a sesame seed.”
“Its okay luv. I’ve got ya.” Hobie says, clearly terrified, but trying to hold it together for you.
“We’ll figure it out.” He holds you carefully, and his leg bounces nervously, with all the unspent nervous energy in his body.
At some point, you and Hobie stop being roommates and start being together. Seven months later you’re slower than you used to be. You waddle around the apartment, you cry at everything that pulls on your empathetic-to-a-fault heart. Leaf falls off a tree and you’re worried its lonely? Cry. An advert with a baby in it and you’re worried its scared that theres so many cameras? Cry. Cough outside and get worried you gave someone asthma? Cry.
The amount of times Hobie had to skip patrol because you were so sad he didn’t feel okay leaving you alone was starting to make everyone around him suspicious. True to his word Peter kept everything secret. It got to the point where Hobie knew he had to reveal it. But that’s not Hobie’s style.
After you spent 13 gruelling hours in Labour, and you had shouted and then apologised at Hobie enough times that you promised to buy him a new guitar, your beautiful baby boy was born. You named him Milo Brown.
It’s a photo of him and you with baby Milo, taken by a kind nurse, your hair is stuck to your head from sweat, but all three of you are happy and glowing.
Hobie: @MiguelO’hara Taking six weeks off.
Miles: Is that baby yours?
Pavitr: Of course it’s his!
Pavitr: When can we visit?
Miguel: Congratulations Hobart.
Peter: Not to brag but I knew about this since she was 3 weeks pregnant.
Hobie closes his phone, and kisses your head.
“Proper twats the lot of them.” He says affectionately.
You and Hobie decide to surprise his parents when you go to visit them. No-one really knows about Milo, and you figured that maybe it’d be important to inform his grandparents of his existence. Hobie, ever the anarchist, managed to convince you to fly to England to see them.
You get on the plane, settling in for one of the longest flights of your life. Milo is awake, staring at Hobie from his place in your arms. Hobie let you have the window seat, he’s in the middle and theres an older lady sat next to him in the aisle seat. Hobie helps you get settled first, before sorting himself out.
“Babe? Sorry to bother you again but i need the cover out the changing bag.” Hobie pulls out the nursing cover, and you lay it across your lap as Milo starts to fuss.
“You gonna feed him?” Hobie asks, glancing down at your top.
“When we take off. I talked to the paediatrician when you were changing him and he said that feeding during takeoff should help his ears pop so hopefully he won’t be too uncomfortable.” You explain, before Hobie leans down and kisses you.
“Ya so smart, and ya such a good mum.” He murmurs before kissing you again.
“You’re a great dad. Love you babe”
“Well aren’t you two just the cutest. And that little baby, oh he’s as sweet as a honey bee in june isn’t he?” You and Hobie nod politely and make quiet small talk with the older woman, that mainly consisted of her complimenting you two and Milo. The plane begins to taxi down the runway and you start to feed Milo, his eyes close as he nurses, and you grip Hobie’s hand nervously as the plane picks up speed, your nails digging into his skin. Hobie’s thumb rubs your hand, soothing you softly. He rests his forehead against yours, looking into those big fearful eyes of yours.
“I know, I just hate take off. Milo seems happy though.”
“Yeah, was a banging idea to ask the paediatrician about how ta make the flight good for ‘im.”
About halfway through the flight Milo wakes up, and in true baby fashion decides to test how loud he can cry. Hobie lifts him off you, trying to let you nap, and starts to walk up and down the aisle. Unbeknownst to a sleepy you, Hobie spends about 6 hours of the 8 hour flight walking with a baby.
You’re wheeling along two suitcases to the arrivals gate, Hobie is carrying Milo, his own backpack and the pushchair with the changing bag in when he stops and sniffs the air.
“Luv, he’s done a shit, I’m gonna go change him.” You turn and nod, giving both him and Milo a kiss on the head.
“I’ll go find your parents, and you join me in a little bit?” Hobie nods, already walking towards the baby change bathroom. You walk to the arrivals gate where Hobie’s family is waiting with a “Welcome Home!” sign and a bouquet of flowers.
“Hiiiii, Hobie’s just in the loo, it’s so good to see you all!” Hobie’s mum pulled you in for a hug, making his dad take the suitcases.
“Oh hi sweetheart. How are you, was the flight okay? Did Hobie seriously make you carry both bags?!” She says, her voice changing completely as she questions you about her son’s behaviour.
“He had a lot in his hands, I volunteered.”
“I don’t care what he has in his hand, thats no excuse for making you take both suitcases, you’re a lot smaller than him.” You’re about to defend him again when you hear a familiar voice.
“What’s all this argy-bargy about then?” You turn to Hobie, your beautiful baby fussing in his arms.
“Hobart Larry Brown how dare you let her- Where did you get a baby?” You reach up to take the baby from him, letting Milo’s little face bury itself in your neck. You shh him gently as you start to sway, looking back up at Mrs. Brown to see her reaction.
“Oh my goodness is he yours?” Hobie smiles proudly and nods. His mum hits him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“We wanted ta surprise ya.” Hobie’s mum softens, as the rest of his family huddles a little closer to see the baby.
“This is Milo, and he’s 11 weeks old.” you say softly, trying not to wake him back up.
“Oh he’s so little, and so precious.”
