“I hope it’s helping you relax,” the doctor says, smiling. She replaces the tube in the machine, unhooks the ultrasound scanner from the terminal, before pulling up a program on the computer. Then, she sets the flat end of the scanner against Felix’s abdomen, on the pile of gel, and a speckled black-and-white image appears on the screen.
All Kade has seen are pictures of ultrasounds, rectangles of vast space with a tiny blob in the middle. The lines and spots move on the screen, changing when the doctor tilts the scanner against Felix’s skin. But there’s no disputing the shape in the middle of the ultrasound, the little curled body of a fetus. It’s a baby.
After the disbelief and the shock over the past two days, Kade still hadn’t thought the child was real. He’s seen the bulge of Felix’s belly through his shirt, sure, but part of him has remained skeptical, has hoped that Felix had been lying about having a baby at all.
The image on the screen makes it real. Felix is pregnant, and Kade wishes the child on the screen were his.
On the bed, Felix cranes his neck, looking at the screen the doctor turned to him. His lips pull thin, his face a whirl of emotions. Kade wants to help ease some of Felix’s stress.
“Hello,” Felix murmurs, watching the screen. Then he looks down at his own abdomen, fingers curling, as though he wants to touch his belly. “It’s... nice to finally see you.”
Kade sees the stark curves of its ribs, the thin lines of its arms, and that child is growing in Felix’s abdomen. They’d fucked last week, Kade clueless about this baby. And Felix has been talking to it the entire time.
Through his omega’s uncertainty, Kade glimpses a tiny bit of joy, like a bright spark, and jealousy growls in his body. Felix wants the child. Who did he love more than Kade?
“The fetus appears to be doing well,” Dr. Smith says, checking the baby from different angles. “It’s roughly ten inches from head to heel, which is normal at twenty-one weeks. All curled up, it’s about six inches in your belly.”
Felix stares down at his abdomen, his face contemplative, as though he’s trying to gauge the size of his child. Kade looks down at his own hand—the baby is smaller than that right now.
“Would you like to know its sex?” the doctor asks.
Felix’s gaze darts to Kade’s, then away. He tugs at his pant leg, undecided, and finally shakes his head. Why would Felix look at him? Does he think Kade will have an answer? “No. I’ll find out later on, anyway.”
“Sure.” The doctor zooms in on the ultrasound images, turning the screen away from Felix. Kade guesses she’s checking to see that the baby’s fine.
“Is it safe for me to have sex?” Felix asks in a tiny voice.
Kade’s breath lodges in his throat. Felix is looking at the doctor, not him, but heat crawls up his cheeks anyway. Does Felix want sex with him, or someone else? Because he’s leaving, and... and he probably means someone else. Not Kade. Kade looks away, his chest aching, thinking about stepping out of the room.
Dr. Smith glances at the ultrasound image, then Felix. “Your pregnancy looks to be normal so far, which means sex should be fine all the way until you go into labor. If you experience pain or bleeding at any point, consult a doctor before further anal sex.”
“Okay,” Felix says. He glances at Kade, and Kade can’t read him right now. He doesn’t know if Felix needs anything from him, even if he wants Kade to pull him close, cradle him so he feels safe. “That’s good to know.”
“Would you like to hold the scanner?” the doctor asks, glancing at Felix, then Kade.
Kade winces. Why would he want to touch a baby that isn’t his? It’s half of Felix, but... it still reeks of betrayal. Kade can’t do this.
Felix looks away, his fingers curling into the side of the bed. “I’ll pass this time,” he says, smiling at the doctor. “These pictures on the screen are good enough.”
“Right. We can also print the ultrasound image for a nominal fee,” Dr. Smith says. “Would you like a copy?”
Felix hesitates. “How much is it?”
“Three dollars.”
Felix lowers his gaze, mulling over it.
“We’ll get one,” Kade says, even though his mind reels with thoughts about touching Felix’s belly. “I’ll pay.”
Felix opens his mouth, about to protest, but Kade shrugs. So Felix looks back at his abdomen, nodding. It feels wrong, because Felix wants a photo of a baby that isn’t Kade’s, but that’s his choice.
The doctor talks to Felix about the baby’s progress, lengths and weights and measurements that Kade doesn’t really care about. He looks at the doctor’s desk, the plastic roses in a vase next to her screen.
“Male omegas have a higher risk in pregnancies,” Dr. Smith says.
Kade’s attention snaps to her. “What?”
She meets his eyes. “There are more complications that can arise from male pregnancies,” she says, handing a booklet over to Felix. “But ninety percent of fathers deliver their children with no problems.”
“Oh,” Kade says, her words echoing in his mind. There are risks to this. Why hadn’t he thought about it sooner?
He doesn’t know how they get through the rest of the ultrasound. Felix and the doctor discuss stretching exercises, things to expect during the pregnancy, and their voices rush past Kade’s ears.
When it’s over, the doctor pulls a clean towel from a cabinet, handing it to Felix to wipe the gel off. Kade keeps close to the wall, feeling as though he’s intruding on this somehow. It isn’t until they leave the room that he can breathe again.
“Sorry,” Felix says as they head back to the receptionist. “You didn’t have to get involved.”
Kade shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll send you home after this.”
Felix nods, his shoulders hunching. Kade
