The cow was a tiny thing, with silky-soft fur and little friendly eyes, and a wide smile under its muzzle. There were two above their bed—Ben’s was in his cot, waiting for him.
Wyatt hugged it to himself, a smile breaking across his face. “It’s so adorable.”
Raph shrugged, but couldn’t help smiling. “Thought of names for the cow?”
“Yeah. I think I want to call it Cow.”
“Cow? Really?”
“Why not?”
Raph shrugged, and Wyatt pressed a kiss to Raph’s shoulder, his other arm cradling his belly.
They checked in quickly. Raph sat Wyatt in a wheelchair, and the nurse wheeled him to the labor ward, where Raph helped him onto the bed.
Halfway through, with his feet still on the floor, Wyatt winced again. He squeezed Raph’s hand, and breathed out, his face paling. “Fuck, that hurt.”
Raph grimaced. “Sorry.”
“It’ll be worth it.” Wyatt smiled, then wriggled onto the bed, his movements awkward with his belly so big. Raph leaned in, scooped him up, and set him against the pillows. Wyatt sighed, making himself comfortable. “Did I get a lot heavier?”
“You’ll never be too heavy for me.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling wider, now.
The midwife was a younger omega, one who didn’t know who they were. Wyatt leaned into Raph when she appeared, relaxing. At some point, they would have to figure things out, like what they told people about their relationship, and what their children shared with their classmates at school. Maybe they’d move out of Meadowfall by then, or maybe they’d be okay staying here.
Either way, Raph was certain that things would turn out fine. They had the support of their parents, and they had the resources to move. If things got messy for their children, they would relocate, to somewhere where he and Wyatt would be seen as alpha and omega, and not brothers.
“Oh, fucking hell,” Wyatt hissed, crushing Raph’s fingers in his grip. Raph held him, leaned over to stroke his back.
“Push,” Raph said. “Push!”
Wyatt glared. “Don’t you dare, Raph. Don’t you fucking dare.”
“That’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?” Raph grinned. “I annoy you with all the unhelpful suggestions, and you snap at me.”
Wyatt frowned. Then he grinned, breathing in. “Fine. Tell me to push. It’s not like I don’t know what to do.”
And Wyatt was probably glad, too, from the way he looked down at their hands, his eyes soft. Raph could only imagine Wyatt ten years ago, lying by himself on a hospital bed, in labor, with no family around him.
So he pressed a kiss to Wyatt’s temple, running his wrist down his omega’s forearm. “You’ll smell like me when you give birth,” Raph said. “You’ll smell like you’re mine.”
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,
