Wyatt’s smile spread across his face.
“Okay, now push again,” Raph said. “You’re not trying hard enough.”
Wyatt smacked his arm. “Why don’t you try giving birth, and tell me what that feels like.”
Raph grinned. He stroked Wyatt’s belly, felt the bump of their child. “I would, you know. Just tell me how.”
Wyatt laughed. Then he tugged Raph onto the bed with him, so they were sitting side-by-side, Wyatt smelling like magnolia and honey and teak. Wyatt pressed his face into Raph’s neck, and breathed.
Time passed quickly. Wyatt’s contractions grew more frequent, until they were a few minutes apart. He’d wince as the pain rolled through him, his belly firm through the contraction. Raph eyed Wyatt’s abdomen, acutely aware of the silvery scar there, the threat it held to Wyatt’s safety.
The midwife checked the fetal heart monitor, and Raph watched her for signs of anything wrong. She showed them their baby’s pulse on the monitor—it was fine. Raph relaxed slightly. “Feel okay? No horrible pain?”
“No,” Wyatt panted, his hair damp with sweat.
Midway through, the midwife reached into Wyatt with gloved fingers. Raph tried to stop growling. He’s mine. The instinct didn’t make sense; Wyatt was already his. But Raph wanted to be the only one to touch his omega, wanted Wyatt and their baby all to himself.
“You’re halfway dilated,” the midwife said, smiling. “Not long to go!”
Three hours in, the contractions came quicker. Wyatt clung to Raph’s arm, sweating, panting as his body squeezed. Raph rubbed his back, held on to him as he cried out.
It seemed an eternity before the doctor came over. Wyatt’s scar tissue was still holding up. Raph couldn’t help the tendril of worry that still gripped him—as long as the baby wasn’t born, he’d be afraid that Wyatt’s belly would rupture. His stomach twisted.
He ran his fingers through Wyatt’s hair, pressing kisses to his forehead. “Not long now.”
Wyatt chuckled weakly. “You know that much, huh?”
“Not really.” Raph gave a sheepish grin. “I just don’t want you to be in pain.”
Then Wyatt cried out again, and Raph held his hand, his heart pounding. The doctor and midwife both monitored Wyatt, and Wyatt heaved, his teeth bared, his hair plastered to his face. Gods, Raph loved him so damn much.
“I’m gonna kill you, Raph,” Wyatt hissed between gasping, his knuckles white.
“Remember you said that,” Raph told him.
“Sure I will.”
“Almost there,” the doctor said.
Wyatt grimaced, and gave a great heave. Then Raph glimpsed a bloody mess sliding into the doctor’s hands, and his heart thumped. Wyatt flopped back onto the bed, panting. He didn’t seem to be in pain.
The midwife took over with the baby. Raph went to Wyatt’s side, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “How’re you feeling?”
“Great,” Wyatt breathed, his eyes half-lidded.
Wyatt had done so much, and Raph’s chest was too small for everything he felt for his omega. He leaned in close, pressed kisses to Wyatt’s forehead. “So proud of you,” Raph whispered. “You did great.”
Wyatt cracked a smile. “How’s my baby?”
“It’s a healthy boy,” the midwife said, stepping over with the mostly-clean newborn. “Congrats!”
Ben’s skin was flushed, smears of blood on his hands. He was the most perfect baby Raph had ever seen. His eyes were closed, and his fingers were tiny. Wyatt took the baby into his arms, his eyes tired and warm.
Raph swallowed the tightness in his throat, slipping his arm around Wyatt’s shoulders. Their baby was born. Both Ben and Wyatt were fine.
“He’s beautiful,” Wyatt whispered, kissing Ben’s head. “I think he looks like you.”
Raph didn’t know which of them their baby resembled, only that Ben looked like an infant to him. And he was a dad. Hazel counted, but Raph hadn’t held her when she’d been a newborn.
“Do you want to hold him?” Wyatt asked.
Raph gulped. Could he? He’d never held a baby before.
“We practiced, remember?” Wyatt said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Here.”
He handed Ben to Raph, and Raph held his breath, cradling Ben’s head, supporting his bottom. He was so damn tiny in Raph’s hands, all heavy and warm and damp.
Ben began to wail. Raph froze. For a person so small, Ben sure was loud. Wyatt laughed. “I think he’ll take some time to warm up to you.”
That was fine. Raph had done that with Hazel. He’d do it again.
He was a dad, as incredible as that was.
He pressed a feather-light kiss to Ben’s forehead, then handed him back to Wyatt, wrapping his arms around his son and omega. “Can’t wait to bring you both home.”
Wyatt grinned, tipping his face up. Raph kissed him, his heart full. In an hour or so, Penny would bring Hazel over, and maybe Mom and Dad would be here, too. Raph couldn’t wait to show Ben to them, have his family all together.
They’d fought hard for this, him and Wyatt. And Raph breathed Wyatt in, knowing this time, he’d stand by Wyatt no matter what. They were in this together for the decades to come.
Epilogue
One year later
“Have you seen Ben?” Wyatt asked, stopping by the nursery door.
“He’s on the mattress,” Raph said, glancing up from the half-braided locks of Hazel’s hair. Then he turned to look at the low mattress behind him, and froze. “Shit. He was just here!”
“He’s gone?” Hazel frowned, setting down her mess of jigsaw pieces. She moved, and her hair slipped out of Raph’s fingers.
“Damn it, princess. I was almost done.” Raph scowled, releasing Hazel’s hair. He stood up, combing the neat, tight twists of Hazel’s hair loose. “Ben was asleep when I started the braids. He couldn’t have gone far—it hasn’t been half an hour.”
“I saw him sleeping, too,” Hazel said.
Wyatt held his breath, casting his thoughts about for where Ben shouldn’t have gone. Ben had just begun crawling two months ago. Most days, he tired himself out from crawling, and napped for hours after. “Come on, let’s split up and search. I hope he isn’t chewing on the houseplants.”
Better the houseplants, than Ben hurting himself somehow.
They split up, Hazel
