Always A Plan B - killajokejosie (2024)

Chapter 1: The Time I Was Awake

Chapter Text

It was hard to go to sleep lately. For Pete, every dream left him feeling more exhausted than he should have been, worse than falling asleep on a bench on a tour bus.

He had checked his meds, checked the bottle of wine he had been nursing, checked the stupid frequency that the tv was on. He wanted an explanation for why his dreams were so vivid, but the odds were always becoming more thin.

It probably was age. That was an easy one to blame. He was older than he originally thought he would ever be, but he had been saying that now for years. His life was good. Family and friends, better than he thought he deserved. So, he just knew that it was age making him feel this way. His mind was growing weary. He had loved the tour life, would continue to love it still, but he needed a break from it right now. Just too old to be on the road for most of the year, that had to be what it was.

He knew that sleep was imminent. As much as he tried to avoid it with an unhealthy amount of caffeine sometimes shocking his system, he still needed the rest. It killed him to feel like this. It was almost as if his mind was made up all of a sudden, but suddenly it was too little, too late. His life was too complicated to add something like this into the mix.

In a few more days, it would likely be over. He and the rest of the band would go home for a while, a little time off to rewind before they started doing this again. It would be in a different country the next time. There would be too many other things to think about. This feeling would be the death of him if he didn't try to get it out of his head. He had to try.

He doom scrolled, feeling his eyelids continue to grow heavier. He couldn't for the life of him remember how he had dealt with this in the past. He knew the crush had been there, it popped itself up from time to time to catch him off guard, but this felt so much more dangerous. Just when the last of the chaos had left him behind, and he was able to actually be a good parent and a good person. It only made sense that this would try to mess all of that up.

If he kept saying that it meant nothing, over and over again in his head, he thought it would somehow fade away.

It probably made it stronger. Made it more brutal. Dreams and memories intertwining, leaving him confused and breathless.

Until he fell asleep.

Chapter 2: A Day In The Life

Chapter Text

He couldn't stop laughing. This entire thing was just so incredibly ridiculous. Staring down at the barrel of forty-five and his life had decided that it was going to change all over again.

He thought about grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to his best friend, and actual love of his life, but he allowed the man to have a little bit more time thinking that they were finally out of the woods, fertility wise, and that their almost five year old was the last child they were going to have.

One would have assumed his age and the length of time that he had been on hormone replacement therapy would have eventually caused his uterus to become an inhospitable environment. That was not the case. The universe clearly had other plans.

He drifted off, thinking about the first time. He had been far more of an idiot back then. He believed that testosterone was the perfect birth control. It got him all the way to the cusp of thirty without so much as one scare. He was convinced that he didn't need to check or to worry.

Then it all changed. He looked down at the little white stick, displaying the two pink lines that indicated positive.

In the moments that followed time became deafening and slow. His heartbeat was loud with the blood rushing sound in his ears. He cursed his body, cursed his desire, cursed the fact that his stupid brain decided to not only remind him that he was bipolar, transgender, and had a touch of some other undermanagaged issues attached to an attraction to men.

He was checking all of the worst boxes. He was toxic.

He walked into the bedroom he shared with his new boyfriend, the one who had always been his 'best friend' until about two months prior. There was no use denying it. He knew he had been in love with Patrick for years before all of this, but it wasn't ever something that he thought was actually going to happen, ever. Then it did.

Tears ran down his face. He tried to sort through his emotions and brace for the worst possible outcome. His cycle had been almost nonexistent, except for occasionally when he missed more than one dose. It made him worry about the paternity, worry about the reaction, and whether or not he would be able to get safe care if he needed to end it.

He probably at least needed to have a discussion with Patrick. He hated that.

He must have zoned out at some point. He had been crying until his eyes were sore and puffy. The disassociation was doing wonders for his building dysphoria, which sucked, because he had been doing so well.

"Hey, I'm home!" Patrick called out. It wasn't really his place yet, but he hadn't really been anywhere else in days. "Where are you? I will follow your voice. I have something for you."

Pete said nothing.

Patrick walked into the bathroom, meaning to wash the outside off of his hands. He saw the pregnancy test that Pete had stupidly forgotten on the bathroom counter and his breath hitched. "Pete?"

He grabbed the test, studying the results like he was going to be quizzed on it. He walked into the bedroom, attention quickly shifting to a catatonic version of his partner sitting on the floor cross legged.

"You alright?"

Pete glanced up, seeing the test in Patrick's hand. "Clearly no,"

"Because you're..."

"Pregnant? Mmm...yes, that is it. That is the reason."

"Is it mine?"

"Probably, like ninety-nine percent,"

Patrick nodded. "Huh. Well, this is not how I thought our evening was going to go."

"I'm so sorry. Guess by now I should be responsible enough to take birth control, or have my tubes tied, or some other sh*t that I couldn't commit to." Pete grumbled, hated talking about the wretched, occupied uterus he had been blessed with.

"I am just as much at fault as you. I could have worn protection. You don't need to say anything about that."

"Thanks,"

"Are you going to keep it?"

Pete took a deep breath. "I don't know. I never actually thought that I would ever be in this position."

"Well," Patrick began, sitting on the floor beside him. "I know that I want a family."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, and I think that this is a sign, it happening now, so soon. I think it means that we are meant to be. The universe said so."

"Way to be sappy,"

"You should know I am also not going to make you do anything that you do not want to do. I am not going to force you to keep the baby. It certainly isn't my place to do so."

Pete placed his hands on his currently flat stomach, wondering what he would look like with a big, round basketball shaped baby bump. It was terrifying, and made him want to further disconnect from the world. But, he knew he would be lying if he said that he didn't want a family of his own someday. He just didn't know that someday was going to be about seven and a half months from then.

The baby was indeed Patrick's, not that it mattered to him. However, it was obvious, especially after the sweet, little boy was about a month old. He was Patrick's mini-me, complete with his reddish ginger locks. His entrance into the world had been slightly traumatic, so for him to be healthy and amazing meant everything.

They knew they were not prepared to be parents. They were only very barely qualified to take care of themselves. This little boy changed everything for them, and they promised to do their best by him.

There were not any other babies. As happy as their son made them, they were really not in any position to have any more children. They were more careful. They had to be. Pete wanted to be able to make music again.

There were not any other babies, until Pete felt the weight of reality coming down around him. He knew his biological clock was ticking. He knew that hormones and normal aging were likely going to make it so much harder for them to conceive again.

He wanted just one more. Jack was getting older and it really seemed like time was going way too quickly for his liking.

He and Patrick discussed the logistics. He stopped taking hormones temporarily, tracked his cycle once it returned, and read everything he could about fertility. It would be years before the texts would be more common with inclusive language, but he made due.

They tried like crazy. Every time Pete was ovulating, Patrick would take him to lakefront hotels that were private enough for the two of them and try to make this fantasy come true.

Andy and Joe were very supportive. They took shifts looking after Jack when needed. Andy made teas for Pete and Joe kept Patrick from drinking too much. They wanted this to happen. If Jack had brought the band closer together, there was no telling what a second one would do.

After eight months of trying, they almost gave up. They opted to go ahead and schedule a tour with the belief that taking a few months on the road would help reduce some of the stress around their attempts to procreate.

Four weeks into the tour, Pete was as sick as a dog. He had picked up some respiratory gunk, a strong one, and it was destroying Pete's ability to keep anything down.

Somehow, he made it through the show, but really only barely. He was so weak that his bass felt like it was made of stone. He didn't bother carrying it backstage with him this time. As soon as he was out of the sight of the crowd he positioned himself over a trash can and threw up all of the contents of his stomach.

Patrick was not far behind him, rubbing his back through the mild convulsions his body kept going through as he continued to vomit violently until there was nothing left.

Patrick put the back of his hand against Pete's forehead. It was probably no use with how sweaty they were in the first place from the show, but he had to try.

Pete was burning up, as he suspected. "Babe, I think you might need to go to the hospital. You have a fever and you need fluids."

"I just want to go to bed,"

"No, we are going to the hospital. Andy...Joe...someone can help get us there. Something is wrong."

"Ugh, fine, but if I throw up in the cab it is your fault,"

"Sure...I guess I will allow it,"

Pete passed out a moment later, falling like a sack of bricks to the floor. Patrick was so mad that he was as small as he was in that moment. In times like these, he had hoped he would manage to be more useful. He still lifted him up into his arms to carry, happy that this didn't happen very often. Pete had been growing more patient and tame over the years, less likely to fight back when it came to his own good. Him being completely out this time definitely helped.

The hospital lights were bright. They were truly brought to life by the screaming beeps of the medical equipment nearby. Pete hated hospitals. Most of the bad things that happened in his life were in or around them. The heat of anxiety that stirred within him came to full intensity as he came to and discovered that there was an IV in his arm.

He sat up and looked around. Patrick was half asleep in a chair beside his bed.

He loved him so much.

The doctor walked in with his hands clasped tightly over the edge of his clipboard. "Wonderful, you are awake,"

"Ugh,"

"I wanted to discuss your test results and your blood work. I assume that this man knows your health status and what you are?"

Pete snorted. "Certainly not a woman, if that is what you are suggesting?"

"Does your friend know, or not?" The doctor asked, disregarding what Pete had said.

"Yes, not that it matters since I pretty much said it out loud for you. He is my boy...we...never mind. You can just say whatever you need and get the hell out."

The doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You have influenza A, a particularly strong bout of it. It has been nasty this year. We have also preemptively provided care for your very early stage pneumonia, but there was only so much we could do considering..."

"Considering what?"

"This is a Catholic hospital, and you are pregnant. We do our best not to harm unborn children."

"Oh,"

"I take it that you were not aware?"

"I was not," Pete smiled. "But it is not unwelcome. It was always a possibility. I should have known you pukes were going to f*cking test me."

"Then I believe congratulations are in order,"

"Yeah, whatever,"

The doctor stood in silence for about a minute before walking out.

"That's right! Leave!"

Pete's shouting woke Patrick up. Good timing since he wanted out of this place as soon as possible.

"Trick! Guess what?!"

Patrick looked up, smiling even though he was confused about Pete's newfound excitement. "What?"

"Pregnant,"

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, I also apparently have the flu though, which may have been a blessing in disguise now that I think about it."

"Oh, sh*t,"

"I'll be alright. I am feeling better already."

"This is awesome. It sucks that you have the flu, I hope you don't give it to me, but other than that, I am so happy. You are going to need to be more careful though, especially on stage."

"I know, I know,"

"Jack is going to be so excited!"

Lucille, or Lucy for short, was born at their lake house. A quiet, star filled night in late July was turned into something else entirely, a new beauty, as their daughter entered the world with a loud cry, followed by unique silence, and guided by a midwife.

Now, they had one of each and they couldn't believe how happy they were. Their little family was complete. It was everything they wanted. Things were going well for them.

Lucy's birth eventually felt like a lifetime ago. Their band was busy again, and the kids were doing great. Patrick and Pete finally bought a bigger house together, and they continued on in their blessed relationship.

There was so much love between the six of them. Six, because they knew they would not have been able to handle any of this if it wasn't for their two best friends. Joe had the advice, having young ones himself, and Andy always tried to make time.

Pete kicked his legs up on the side of one of the soundboards, resting his feet on the edge. He opened the bag of Cheetos in his lap, choosing to sandwich two smaller pieces in between two Thin Mints.

He put the strange snack into his mouth, licking orange dust off of his finger. It was enjoyable enough that he made another, which resulted in him sitting back in shock with wide eyes. He was clearly becoming a psychopath, or he was missing all of the other signs.

"sh*t," He muttered. "How did I not notice?"

Joe heard him cursing to himself, wondering if it would be worth it to ask what he was going on about. Pete had been a bit snippy lately, and he did not want to be on the wrong end of his attitude problem.

"You alright there?" Andy asked bravely.

"I need to go talk to Patrick," Pete got up abruptly and walked into the sound both, disconnecting the sound from inside.

Joe and Andy looked at each other, curious about the sudden change in behavior.

"Do you think that he knows that Pat is gonna propose?" Joe asked.

"Absolutely not," Andy said with determination to keep the secret. "This is something else."

Pete was thrown off by Patrick deciding that now was the time to get down on one knee and retie his shoe. He had to have known that he was going to do this right now, listening to his footfalls as he walked inside.

"Hey, um, I...uh, think that we need to talk,"

Patrick's head dropped. "That's not good,"

"It is actually not...bad,"

"Can it wait twenty-ish seconds or something while I have the confidence to do this and before the moment passes? Well, who am I kidding? It already did."

"What?"

"Alright. Yeah. Moment is really different now, but that is okay."

"Kinda freaking me out here,"

"Will you marry me?"

Pete was pretty positive that his heart had just skipped a beat. "Yes,"

"That was way too easy. Are you sure?"

Pete nodded. "Of course,"

Patrick rose to his feet. He put his hands on Pete's face, pulling him in for a quick peck on the lips. "Anyways, you were saying?"

"Pretty sure you are not going to believe the timing on this," He said, laughing at the absurdity of the day. He was living in a sitcom. "But I am pregnant. Er, well, I think I am."

"That would actually make a lot of sense with the way you have been acting lately. Although, I considered that it might be something else."

"Menopause? f*ck off, Stump, I am not that old, and I just agreed to marry you. I can take that back."

"No. I did not say anything."

"Rude,"

"I did not say anything. That's not fair."

"My future husband thinks I'm old," Pete was laughing harder now.

He wrapped his arms around his new fiancé, hands dropping lower to grab onto his great ass.

"Calm down, Wentz, it is not that serious,"

"Good thing you are getting it out early,"

"Why?"

"Because if you waited I'd be crying or yelling, likely overstimulated, and so very pregnant. A bad combination."

Patrick shrugged. He didn't mind Pete, he loved him every way he came.

June was born in a hospital by emergency induction. She was in distress and the doctors had thought it would be for the best. She was going to end up in the NICU either way, so it was a calculated risk. It was her best chance of survival.

Pete was hemorrhaging bad after the delivery of the placenta. An obvious pallor to his usually tan skin took over, signaling the decreasing iron reserves. Patrick noticed his fiancé's condition worsening, becoming cold and breathing slower. He yelled for the doctors, pushing every button he could only seconds before Pete coded, angry at himself for not acting sooner.

Luckily, they were able to stop the bleeding. He was made aware that he was going to have a hell of a time healing, but at least he and the baby were both alive.

Pete and Patrick married the following October, per the persistence of one moderately Halloween obsessed Pete. It was a beautiful ceremony, especially with their still tiny baby in their arms, their two older children at their sides. It was perfect. Everything. They were complete.

Pete was still laughing when he finally returned to the present. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. He wanted everything to make perfect sense.

He grabbed a hair tie off of the countertop, putting his hair into a quick, messy bun, a few strands of faded bleached hair falling to frame his face.

He finally figured out how to get his mind straight and on track. He was able to bring forth enough effort to walk out of the bathroom, stuffing his positive pregnancy test into the pocket of the sweatpants he had been wearing.

Jack was reading to June. Lucy was practicing piano with her father on the other side of the large family room. He didn't think it was possible for life to get any better than this. They would be touring again soon, it was best to hold onto these little moments while they were still able.

Patrick glanced over from the piano toward his husband, smile quickly coming to rest on his face. Even after all of this time, they continued to love each other very deeply. It was the fairytale romance that Pete never thought he deserved and that Patrick could never believe, deepened by the beautiful family that they had created together.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Patrick asked with that incredible smile still across his face. "Last time that I saw that look, that happened," He added, gesturing toward the youngest child sitting on the couch.

"Because you are amazing, and I love you," Pete said, reaching into his pocket.

"Something the matter?" Patrick turned completely toward Pete who had since dropped down into the oversized chair in the corner, leg swung up over the side because he could never sit normally at a time like this.

"No," He replied, fumbling the test to where it was obscured by the long sleeve of his Chicago Blackhawks jersey. Ironic that he had been wearing one the day he found out about Jack.

"Daddy, we aren't done with our lesson yet! We can't stop yet!" Lucy shouted, a light touch of despair in her tone, far more than any other kid her age ought to have had. "I have to be the best."

"If there was ever a question on whether or not she was your child, please refer to this moment as the answer." Pete chuckled.

"Certainly it wasn't the ginger hair that gave it away?"

"Can we finish, please?" Lucy asked, her impatience taking center stage.

One moment, I think that your father and I need a little bit of time to talk privately," Patrick told her.

"Kissing each other is not as important as my lesson, you know?"

Patrick patted his daughter's cute, light ginger curls on top of her head. "It won't be long, I promise,"

"Ugh. Fine."

***

Patrick made sure that Pete got the message and followed him into the kitchen. He pressed the full length of his body against the older man, catching him in a rough, breathtaking kiss. Naturally, Pete was pressed into the counter, loosing his constitution and not knowing when he would be able to get back on track.

Pete didn't even catch Patrick sliding his hand up his left sleeve to grab the test before it fell to the floor.

"Well, well, well, I guess that answers a lot of my questions,"

"Yes, I took the test to eliminate the possibility because I didn't believe it was actually going to happen again, but here we are."

"Wow, I can't believe we are going to do this again."

"The doctor was impressed last time with my geriatric pregnancy, no idea what she will say this time."

Patrick placed one hand on Pete's stomach. "Might be unexpected, but I am happy. I love our family so much. So, the more the merrier. Another little boy would be fun to help balance them out. Another girl would bring a nice joyful element in since our girls have been asking for one more, probably be more helpful."

"I am happy, too. A little overwhelmed, maybe, but happy. I think they would all be fine either way. They would still help. Boys are icky, not baby brothers, not yet."

They shared a quick kiss, lingering in a warm embrace. Their breathing was synchronized and soothing. Completely incredible.

Patrick finally lifted his head up and looked into Pete's sunny hazel eyes. "Should we...postpone the tour?"

Pete shook his head. "Of course not. I'm pregnant, not diseased. It is not like I have a broken leg or something. It will be fine. I have done parts of tours pregnant and recovering from being pregnant before. It is fine."

"Yeah, I know, but you are going to have to be super careful. We are going to have to modify some of the elements of the stage. Can't exactly set pyrotechnics off near my pregnant husband in good faith. This is round four, though, you know the drill, weight restrictions, rest, taking overall better care of yourself. You can't overdo it. You can't put you or the baby at risk. What are we going to do if you aren't feeling well or get winded fast?"

"Things will have to change, that's true, but I promise that everything is going to be alright. I will even get clearance from Dr. Auxter. Seriously." Pete said with the most reassuring smile he could muster as the newest bout of nausea became his primary focus. He did not want to throw up in the kitchen sink.

"Alright, alright. You are lucky I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, you have been saying that to me for years. I get it. This is round four, remember, babe, I am very acquainted with what to expect. I could probably write a book for transmascs on the subject."

"True, maybe you should,"

"Only if I can release it under someone else's name or a pseudonym. Not sure if I want that kind of attention brought onto the band or onto our kids. Jack's life is already ridiculous at times because he has my last name."

"We should probably let the kids know, the parents, the guys?"

"How about after the appointment? Let's make sure everything checks out. Until then, the baby can be our little secret."

"Fair enough,"

***

Pete was able to get in to see the doctor relatively quickly. He was definitely overdue for an exam, but he had been actively trying to avoid going to see his gynecologist with the hopes of not triggering his dysphoria. The universe, of course, once again, had other plans.

Before, or usually, anyways, he would make sure to request the earliest or latest appointment available. He had been remarkably successful at keeping himself hidden, not wanting to out himself completely.

Today, however, he enlisted the help of his pretty, medically trained neighbor, Alana. She was going to be the stand in, not wanting to draw attention to himself as the only guy by himself. He could have brought Patrick with him, obviously, but it all really went back to his dysphoria and not wanting to be outed to the public as trans. Not that he was ashamed, because he was far from it, he just knew how people could be.

Alana looked so calm and collected next to him, a sharp contrast. He spent the entire morning alternating between nervous nausea and full blown morning sickness. Even after managing to find something to wear that would cover his tattoos, hair, and most of his face with masks still being relatively common at this particular office he wasn't able to rein it in. He felt helpless.

Still, he bobbed his right knee up and down all the way up until that well trained nurse called them back using Alana's name instead. He had been a patient for so long that the nursing staff had been thrice turned over, but his doctor was able to brief people well in the case of an alias.

"Mr. Wentz, how are you feeling?" Dr. Auxter asked, already wheeling the ultrasound machine in. "I honestly cannot believe that you are here today. You are a little overdue for a pelvic exam, so imagine my surprise when I found out that the reason for your urgent visit. You and the hubby have obviously been very busy this year."

"Imagine my surprise when I saw those two lines the other day. My stubborn ass never did want to listen to you when you suggested tubal or a full hysterectomy. I thought eventually my body would have turned my biological clock off, but here we are." Pete laughed, pulling at a loose thread on the sleeve of his navy blue hoodie.

"Well, you do seem to like to defy the odds. Or, at least, your ovaries do. We will run all of the necessary tests, make sure that everything looks good. You are quite healthy, overall, you are active and don't have any underlying issues, so this should be par for the course. Only difference is that you are now at an even more advanced age than before so you will need to be more mindful of overdoing it. Energy levels change quite drastically as we age." She explained.

"Starting to sound like my husband,"

"You'd be mindful to listen to him. He has you and your little one's best interest at heart." The doctor continued to talk while she brought the machine to life and prepared to ask him a few questions. Pete instinctively hopped up on the exam table, awaiting further instruction.

"I know it may be hard to believe with the way he acts sometimes, but he has his and his children's best interest at heart. He is a wonderful father." Alana chimed in, unnecessarily to counteract the doctor's jabs. Though, Pete thought it was very nice of her to say.

"I know that he is, but I am always happy to hear it. I remember how upset he was when he found out that he was pregnant with Jack, but he came around and I think everything worked out for the best." Dr. Auxter said, before directing her attention back to Pete. "And, where did you pick up this one?"

"Neighbor,"

"Good, have you been having complete menstrual cycles recently?"

"I am pretty sure that I have not had one in the past twelve months. Even when I was on my highest dosage of testosterone I would still have one or two a year, mostly light. I had been thinking that my uterus had finally gave up the good fight or I was actually kickstarting my way into menopause."

"Not quite either of those things. Are you and your husband having regular sex?"

"Obviously, that is what got me here in the first place,"

"That's good. We can use that information along with the ultrasound to get a rough estimate of how far along you are."

"Seven weeks, give or take like five-ish days. Call me crazy, but I have been able to pinpoint when we have conceived each time looking back to when I was feeling exceptionally...sexually charged."

Dr. Auxter chuckled, trying to stay focused and prep Pete with the gel. "Let's see if you are right,"

"If I am wrong I will name the baby after you,"

She was quiet for a few moments, sliding the wand around on his abdomen. After all of this time Pete still did not really know what he should be looking for on the screen, but the sounds were exactly right.

"Huh," She said, going back and forth over two spots.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, and you are approximately eight and a half weeks along, if you were wondering. You are probably right about your conception date."

"There is something else that you need to say, I can hear it in your voice,"

"Take a deep, super soothing, relaxing breath first,"

"Okay," He mumbled, doing as she said.

"It appears that you are going to be having twins. If you look at the screen, you can see each gestational sac. Everything looks good though, nothing to worry about at the present except continuing to take good care of yourself. I do not see any reason to restrict any activity, minus the obvious."

"Twins?" He said the word like it was in a different language. "Two babies at the same time, that is frightening."

"It is going to be alright, you have done this before,"

"Not with two,"

***

Pete burst into the studio where Andy and Patrick were hard at work on something he was surprisingly unfamiliar with.

Patrick glanced up at him, shocked and a bit concerned with his recent behavior. "Hi, honey, did everything go good at the doctor?"

"Uh, yeah, hi, can we talk? Privately?"

Patrick got up quickly and followed Pete into the next room. "What is going on?"

Pete handed the ultrasound to his husband, hopeful that he would quickly be able to see. "You tell me,"

"Baby A and Baby B?"

"Baby A and Baby B,"

"Oh my god, really?"

"My name is up in the corner, it is real,"

"Wow, now, how do you feel about this?"

"I was admittedly freaking the f*ck out the entire drive here, but I think that I am now at a point where it is just really funny. Of course this would happen."

"How far along are you?"

"Two months, which means that, and maybe you have already realized this, you knocked me up on your mom's kitchen floor when we took the kids to visit."

"Oh god, I do remember that. I hurt my back and I lied to her about it. And, you, you...rode me within an inch of my life while our kids were playing Mario Party or whatever in the other room. I am a terrible son, oh my god."

"Actually, I am a terrible son-in-law, because it was absolutely my idea. Bad influence for life."

"I could have said no, it was the middle of the damn day. She was just at the store. She could have walked in. I have no self control. I am horrible."

"That beautiful f*cking co*ck of yours is damn near impossible to resist. I am sorry that you find it hard to say no to me."

"Damn,"

"Maybe we should find a way to get that out of your mind, somewhere here?" Pete asked, moving in closer.

"Tempting, but no. I still have some work to finish up here and I do not want a repeat of when your sister walked in on us while I was...pleasuring you...digitally..." Patrick wiggled his fingers and shook his head. "...Or when poor Joe saw us on the couch in that damn hotel room, that you actually gave him the damn key to by the way, while my head was in between your legs."

"That's not fair. You are teasing me now."

"You will just have to wait,"

"Are you really going to deny your sick and tired, pregnant husband what he is...craving?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I have such a hard time saying no to you in the first place, like you said. That is kind of why we keep getting ourselves into this mess in over and over again."

"You sure it isn't because you love me?"

"Maybe that is part of it," Patrick chuckled. He followed up by getting down on his knees and lifting up Pete's shirt. He pressed a light kiss against the tanned skin of stomach.

Andy walked in, wrongfully assuming that the coast was clear and he had given them enough time alone. He saw Patrick on his knees, immediately concerned that he had inadvertently managed to scar himself again with his bandmates occasionally bizarre relationship.

Pete heard him and turned his bead back to see him. "Hi,"

Patrick moved Pete's hips out of his way, forcing the man to take a step to the right. "Hello,"

"Do I want to know what the two of you are doing?"

"Oh, uh, right, this probably seems a little weird. I get it, but, um, Pete's pregnant." Patrick stumbled through the words, unsure if his husband would end up getting upset at him since they hadn't really told anyone yet and had wanted to get Joe and Andy together.

"Was it planned?" Andy asked, treading carefully.

"Hell no," Pete wanted to convey his message loud and clear.

"And, are you guys happy about it? You are, right? Ya know, because you already have three...and well, Pete's age."

"My age? Why not Patrick's age?"

"You are still older, no matter how you look at it...and his part is kinda already done. You still have however many more months of growing a tiny human inside of you."

"I was of advanced age the last time I got pregnant, I will be alright." Pete said, running fingers through his long hair, breaking the knots from putting his hood up and down all day. "I have to be monitored a little bit closer this time, but that's just because I am growing two tiny humans instead of one."

"Twins!? Great! You can finally name these ones after Joe and I."

"What if we focused on preparing for the tour first before we try to name our unborn babies?"

"Okay, okay. Damn, how do you manage to have your pregnancies near a tour every time? Do you have no control?"

Patrick finally stood up. "No, he doesn't. Hormone therapy is probably like the only reason that we don't have ten kids."

"Was ten the goal?" Andy asked out of shock.

"No, and the off chance that I am still fertile for a few more years I am probably going to get something permanent done here." Pete explained.

"Oh, okay..."

"Sorry, Andy, sometimes I just like to see your face when I start talking about my ovaries and uterus." Pete felt his face flush as he spoke, complete with the most disgusting sensation churning his stomach. "If you'll excuse me, I am going to go throw up now because apparently I can no longer eat chicken."

***

They slowly began to tell everyone else. Joe had similar sentiments to Andy, mostly worry over Pete's condition. He continued to assure everyone that everything was going to be okay.

Their parents were told. Of course they were all excited to have new grandbabies. There was again, more concern about Pete's age and continuing to work, but just like he had to Joe and Andy and Patrick, he reassured them it would be fine. He was healthy, he wasn't going to overwork himself, they had nothing to worry about.

He was beginning to feel like a politician repeating lines that he had to rehearse to make people believe him. It was added stress, the constant questioning and wondering if he could still do this, and he knew that they all meant well, but it was exhausting, especially on top of normal pregnancy fatigue.

Telling the kids was for some reason the hardest. It should have been easier each time, but it didn't. Explaining to your kids that one of their fathers was different and able to carry babies was varying in levels of horror and insanity. Kids were intuitive, but they didn't often know what was supposed to be kept private and what they were able to say in public. They had been incredibly lucky that this time around Jack was old enough to understand and young enough to still level with Lucy and June. Lucy was helpful, too, but didn't have as much of a grasp on things due to her young age.

As for June, their quirky little firecracker, she only sort of understood. She was still small, but she had already come home from school asking questions when she realized that she did not have a traditional family after friends began to wonder if she had a mommy and where she was. Pete had opted not to go into too much detail then, but he wasn't going to be able to avoid it forever, and some of it was going to have to come out right now.

Chapter 3: A Day In The Life 2

Chapter Text

While he was waiting for Patrick to return home with the kids he found himself standing sideways in front of the full length mirror in their bedroom. He was bloated as hell, living in shorts and joggers exclusively, already. He had avoided looking at his body as much as possible, not wanting to notice the moment that he started to look pregnant. He enjoyed his children, loved them more than anything else in the world, and he didn't necessarily mind being pregnant, but he abhorred the look of it all. It was his worst dysphoria trigger each and every time, and had caused multiple mental breaks. Yet, he was doing it all over again.

Patrick had slipped into the room when Pete wasn't paying attention, too focused on his midsection to notice him until he wrapped his arms around him and laid his head on Pete's shoulder.

"Hi," Patrick said with a sweet smile, still cursing the fact that he was a bit smaller than his husband.

"Hi,"

"Do you want to hear something?"

"Is it that I am going to be massive in a few months? Because, I was already thinking about that. Going to spend most of the tour in baggy clothes."

"No, that is just silly to be thinking about right now when no one would have the faintest idea that something was up. You definitely do not look preggo quite yet."

"We will just have to agree to disagree on that one. Anyways, go on."

Patrick gave Pete a tight squeeze. "I was thinking about when we found out about Jack. You were so beautiful. I thought you were so perfect, couldn't believe how lucky I was to finally have you, to be starting a family with you. I loved you so much."

"We were so woefully unprepared back then,"

"Absolutely. No doubt, completely overwhelmed, especially right after he was born. We got through it though, just like we get through everything else together. If it is possible, I think I love you more now than I did back then. We have made such a wonderful life together that it is scary to think about what it might be like if we never got together. You are such an incredible parent to our children, the perfect partner and husband, for me. Somehow, you are even more beautiful now. We did good. You are my person, and I will be by your side until my breathing stops. I love you so damn much."

Pete spun around in Patrick's arms so that they were facing each other. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he held back the rest of his emotions as best as he could. "Patrick..."

"I just wanted you to know that I still cannot believe how lucky I am to have you,"

"I love you too, so f*cking much,"

"I am here for you, too,"

"Of course, you always have been, even when I didn't deserve it."

Their youngest daughter impatiently walked into the master suite, hands on her hips. "I thought you were gonna come out and tell us stuff. You made us wait."

"Sorry, Pumpkin, daddy and I were just having a moment together. We are getting really excited about what we have to tell you guys." Pete began, crouching down to her level.

"Is it about your shows?"

"Actually," Patrick said in a tone he could only hope would express the excitement that they wanted for her to feel once they told her their news. "Your father and I are going to be having two babies, twins. You are going to get two new siblings. Maybe two brothers, maybe two sisters, maybe even one of each."

"When will they be here?" She asked, the childlike inquisitiveness shining through.

"After they are done growing to be almost the same size that you were in the when you were a baby, like you have seen in the pictures."

"Why can't they just come here now?"

"Well, they are here, but right now they are sleeping in my tummy. They aren't quite ready to come out yet." Pete told her, taking both of her hands in his.

"Why?"

"Because that is how babies get strong enough to be in the world and grow up. You, Lucy, and even Jack all started out that way. Then, after about nine months, you each were finally in my arms. You all were cute, wrinkly little things, but you were ready to be born and come out."

"So, when they are finally born that will be their birthday? Just like I was born on my birthday, right?"

"Yes, and you were the only one who didn't have a name until that day. You took us by surprise. Tried to narrow it down before, but you decided to change them on us by coming early. We named you June because you were born the day after my birthday."

"How did you get the babies in your tummy?"

"Love, your daddy and I love each other so much. You and your sister and brother, and the two new babies, are the best parts of us."

"Oh, cool," She said, the words so plain coming from her mouth that it was clear that she was completely unfazed by his answer, but accepted it.

She disappeared from their room almost as quickly as she had come in. She did immediately come back, dragging her older sister and brother by their arms.

"June said you have something to tell us," Jack laughed, accidentally letting on to the fact that he was a total sucker for both of his sisters.

"As a matter of fact, we do," Patrick told his oldest, trying not to smile like a f*cking idiot while he rubbed his hands along his husband's tattooed arms.

"And that is?"

Pete cleared his throat. "We found out not long ago that we are going to be having twins,"

"Geez, you're pregnant, again? Are you trying to set a goal for being the oldest parent at the school?" Jack asked.

"Hey!" Pete scolded. "I will sell you to the damn circus if you keep making comments about my age."

Jack shrugged. "Just stating the facts. This family is already a circus, anyways, nothing scares me. And, I'm happy for you. I do like my siblings, unlike most of my friends. You guys are good. We are actually pretty cool kids if I do say so myself."

"I hope that they are girl babies so that we can play dress up!" Lucy shouted.

All three of their kids were suddenly all talking at once. The wonderful chaos of their household had enveloped them in a matter of seconds, a true display of what their lives were and what they would become. Patrick and Pete smiled at each other, making eye contact with a knowing, shared look.

This was happy.

***

The tour started the following week. Seemingly without complications.

"Um...what's that?" Joe asked, stopping the tuning of his guitar in order to point at Pete.

Pete looked down at the streak of reddish fluid running down his leg out of his shorts. "Oh, that? It definitely looks like blood."

"Because it probably is. You need to go to the hospital or call your doctor. Should I go get Patrick?" Joe asked, the beginning of deep levels of concern and worry creeping about in his chest.

"No, don't you dare tell him,"

"WHAT!? Are you insane!?"

"Hey, hey, I'm not insane. He is. The show is not going to happen if we tell Patrick. We can wait to tell him until after the show. I am sure this is nothing."

"We have an hour and a half, maybe it will be a slow night in the emergency room?"

"No,"

"Just get a quick scan. Pete, c'mon, if you are not going to tell your husband you need to go get checked out right now. You know that Patrick wouldn't speak to either of us anymore if something happened to the twins and I didn't make you go in."

"I am my own person and I feel completely fine,"

"Pete...I am going to go tell him if you don't agree to this. We can go to the really nice urgent care that we went to that made sure you didn't break your foot."

Pete grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood off of his leg. The mental freakout was beginning to bubble up to the surface. Physically, he did actually feel just fine. The morning sickness was finally starting to let up and allow him to feel human again. Still, he was bleeding. It was true that it was not a bad idea to just go in, risking it really was not an option.

Joe got him to the urgent care building as fast as possible. Pete checked in online as soon as he saw a random nearby time slot open. It was a miracle.

"I almost forgot about that fall, couldn't put any pressure on my foot for days, not as bad as when I actually broke my foot though…which happened because I am an idiot," Pete laughed, trying to distract himself from the panic.

"I didn't, perfect image. I remember Patrick's reaction most of all."

"Ha,"

"Andy and I didn't know it yet, but this was almost immediately after you told him that you wanted to be with him…romantically. That made him more on edge. He had accidentally pushed you away, causing you to trip."

Pete smiled, remembering the catastrophe affectionately. "It was still like...ugh...five years until he actually acknowledged it because I fell in love with the sweet, insecure boy who wasn't sure if he could be with another man."

"Always the gentleman,"

"I wish that he would have come to the right conclusions, much earlier, but I might not have Jack if it happened any differently."

"I know that it has been years, nearing fifteen or sixteen since you got together, but I am sorry that I ever doubted your feelings for Patrick. It was wrong for me to judge you...for multiple reasons."

"Don't worry about it, I get it. I would have wanted to protect him from a guy like me, too."

Pete was called back, thankful again for masks and hoods.

The on call physician was actually well versed in ultrasound technology and machine usage, a rarity. That doctor was able to call and OB/GYN to assist in the rest of the exam. They both made promises that they didn't know if they could keep. Pete could sense it in the sound of their voices.

Everything did happen to be fine. It was just a bit of spotting, breakthrough. It was more common in twin pregnancies, but it had still been good that he had been checked out by a doctor. Those were the words swirling in his head. He heard the nurse say it, both of the doctors, as well. He had to remember it almost word for word against his paperwork, because he was going to have to repeat it back to Patrick after he got done yelling.

There was only fifteen minutes until they were supposed to go on. He already knew that this was going to be an uncomfortable encounter, could see it in Patrick's eyes just what type of scolding he was likely to receive.

***

Pete quickly fixed his hair in the mirror. He stared at the stick of eyeliner on the counter, wondering if a thin layer would keep him from looking so drained and exhausted, or if he would just look like a shadow of his former self. He was feeling a new level of tiredness, especially following the events of the evening.

"Where have you been!?" Patrick asked loudly through gritted teeth. "Andy and I have been looking for you and Joe for over an hour."

"I'll tell you after the show, okay?"

"No, you will f*cking tell me right now,"

"Do you think I am f*cking Joe or what? I have never, ever given you any reason to believe I would do anything like that to you, ever. I would especially never do anything like that with one of our friends. What has gotten into you?"

"You know...you are deflecting, trying to make me look like the crazy one. Something is going on. I deserve to know."

"We have to go get ready. We are going to have to unpack all of that later. I was just bleeding a little earlier, that is all."

Patrick's light colored eyebrows shot up well above his glasses. "You what now?"

"I was bleeding. I am not anymore. Babies are just fine. I was going to tell you after the show because I knew you were going to freak out, both about it and about me wanting to wait to tell you."

"I am going to try really hard not to let this interfere with the set. I will deal with all of this later."

Pete yanked Patrick against his body. Both of his hands reaching down to grab his husband's ass. "I need to be punished,"

Patrick's expression softened slightly. "Yes, I think that's right,"

"Hopefully, that keeps you even more motivated not to be angry with me."

"You can't be keeping things like this hidden from me. It isn't right. It isn't illegal to cancel shows for medical reasons."

"I don't want to be the cause of their disappointment. I have already been that for so many."

There was a knowing silence that had followed, a knowing glance. It was true that those words meant something. Over the years it had gotten better, but they way Pete's family had reacted to him coming out as trans and then later as a gay man had left him with multiple mental and physical scars, despite them coming around and eventually being supportive. Not to mention his past relationships, all of the trauma that entailed.

"Keep the jumping to a minimum, would ya?"

Pete nodded. "I will be careful. I can assure you that much."

***

The shows were relatively without another hitch. This was save for three minor incidents. The first was Pete calling Patrick 'love' instead of by his name on stage. That one was intentional, but he hadn't warned his occasionally high strung husband beforehand, resulting in a very hilarious looking facial expression that only managed to show a small fraction of just how flustered he was.

The second was a bit less amusing, and more or less made everyone uncomfortable with Pete doing any sort of stunts. He had already been feeling rather nauseous, and jumping around had made that so much worse. As soon as Patrick was seated at his piano, Pete ran backstage and emptied the contents of his stomach into the nearest garbage can. Patrick was quickly alerted to the situation, ending up following him to check on him a few minutes later.

The last memorable incident was all to incredible. Just the thought of it sent Pete into an eruption of giggles every time. It was also a friendly reminder that he needed to watch where he stepped. He didn't want to catch his foot on a cord again, unless he knew for sure that Patrick was going to catch him in the same way, arms tight around his waist like he was a prince that needed rescuing. His hands on Pat's chest, eyes locked onto each other as they realized that they had been holding the embrace just a little bit too long and practically everyone in the crowd had since then taken a picture, or perhaps gotten the entire thing on video. The fans that always wanted them to be together were cheering uncontrollably loud.

Pete was wearing baggier clothes at the later points in the tour. He opted for hoodies and oversized jerseys instead of fishnets, tight jeans, and mesh. He knew that he was probably going to start showing sooner just because he was on his fourth pregnancy, but the twins part had accelerated that quite a bit more. He wasn't a friend of most of his normal clothes anymore, either. Being completely ravenous at multiple times during the day suddenly felt like an added bonus, even with knowing it was not always ideal for his clothes fitting.

Most of the time he didn't even want to be wearing clothes, anyways.

"Wow..." Patrick let the word slip from his mouth without any warning, ridiculously involuntary. Seeing Pete naked, especially while quite noticeably pregnant and extremely wet from the shower, still managed to take his breath away after all of these years. "You look..."

Pete grabbed a towel off of the rack and began using it on his hair, which was thicker and more of a tangled pain in the ass than it usually was. "I know. I am so big already. Good thing I can hold my bass just right and completely hide my belly."

"First off, you really aren'tthatmuch bigger than you normally are at this point, so I don't know what your deal is. Second, Ilovethe way that you look right now, your skin looks amazing."

"That doesn't sound murdery or anything, not at all,"

"Oh shut up, you know exactly what I mean," Patrick stated, grabbing Pete by the arm and yanking him toward the king sized bed in the middle of the overly modern, brightly colored hotel room.

He shoved Pete down onto his back, dropping down to his knees in front of him. He ran his hands along tanned thighs, stopping at Pete's knees to spread them completely apart. His breath ghosted over Pete's skin, making the man shudder in anticipation, somehow just patient enough to wait for Patrick to remove his jacket and his glasses. He tried his best to keep his desire in check, certain that his patience would run out in the absence of his husband's haste, but he wanted him so damn much.

Patrick left a trail of kisses up Pete's thighs. The heat of his breath teasing all of Pete's sensitivities. He pressed a kiss against the dark mound of pubic hair, inhaling the familiar musky scent. He wanted him just as badly, his arousal already so obvious.

Pete leaned up on his elbows to get a better look at what Patrick was doing, increasingly more desperate for this to become more than just simple teasing. "Please, just f*cking do it, already,"

"As you wish," Patrick replied, tongue flicking out of his mouth to wet his lips.

Pete moaned, probably louder than he should have at the sight. His hands were laced through Patrick's thin, gingery colored hair. He used the pressure of his hands as a guide to lead him and his talented tongue to just the right spot.

Patrick lapped his tongue against Pete's large cl*t before sucking it into his mouth. The sensory overload was almost immediate, with Pete gasping at the addition of two of Patrick's fingers carefully sliding inside.

"f*ck," Pete moaned into his hand, trying his best not to arch his hips when Patrick curled his fingers up a bit on the next thrust, scissoring apart a little, wanting to make him beg for more.

Patrick moved his fingers in and out of Pete's c*nt faster. He continued to suck on him with the same increasing level of intensity. He felt Pete begin to tighten around him, crying out in pleasure from the relentless attempts to destroy him.

He stopped. All contact with Pete's body stopped. Pete suddenly felt empty from the loss of physical contact. Patrick was not anywhere near done with his planned attack, but he was not going to allow him to lose control so quick.

"Trick...you better be intending to finish me off,"

"You think I am going to skip out on that?" Patrick chuckled. He gave Pete one more stroke of his tongue flat up against the tip of the ever so sensitive bit. "Are you sure that you even know me at all?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "Then stop being such a f*cking tease and show me,"

Patrick rose to his feet and removed the rest of his clothes. His eyes ran up Pete's frame again, admiring the light, glistening sweat covering his scars and tattoos. Each one told a different chapter to the story that completed the stunning man that he was. Even after all of these years, he was still the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"You are just the most incredibly beautiful man on the planet,"

Pete's breath hitched. He would always be a sucker for anything Patrick said, every single day.

Patrick wasted no time. He crawled on top of his delicious husband, catching him in a kiss that echoed all of the lust and passion that was roughly building at his core.

Pete pushed him over so that he was on top, an easier position for him with the current state of his body. He reached down and stroked Patrick's co*ck to full hardness, leading it inside of him. He squeezed his thighs around him, slowly beginning to rock his hips. He tipped his head back and let out a breathy moan, falling into the rhythm. He knew this was exactly what he needed.

Patrick laced their fingers together. They moved together at first, passionate and deliberate. Pete felt tingles all the way down his spine, white hot desire deep within him, driving him into a faster pace.

Patrick grabbed Pete by the hair, pulling him down to his level. He kissed him again, wanting the taste of his mouth to linger with him forever. He bucked his hips upward, with purpose and abandon.

"Trick, I...I..." Pete whispered into Patrick's neck, hyper aware of his husband's hands secured tightly on his hips.

"Yes, Pete, come for me,"

Patrick's words worked like magic. Pete felt his entire body light up with the intensity of his release. The moan that left his lips and the following burst of leg shaking pleasure tranquilized him and his thoughts and everything else that came with it. He saw only stars.

Patrick grabbed onto his hips tighter, leaving fingerprint shaped impressions on his skin. He desperately let go, falling into his own pleasure as Pete rode out the aftershocks of his org*sm.

Pete rolled over to the side, still lying the opposite way of the head of the bed. He ran his hands over his belly, beginning to burst into a bubble of giggles.

"Why are you laughing?"

Pete held out a hand for Patrick. "I'll tell you if you give me your hand,"

"Okay..." Patrick obliged, letting Pete take his left hand. He was suffering from a twinge of apprehension that he did not quite understand. Something that made zero sense considering that he trusted that his husband was not about to do something strange.

Pete pressed the palm of Patrick's hand against his stomach. Patrick picked up on the familiar feeling, instantly perking up. "I think that we have woken up the twins,"

Patrick rubbed his hand against the stretch of Pete's skin. This was one of his favorite parts of Pete's pregnancies. It felt like the beginning of the bond he had with each of his children, knowing they would recognize the sound of his voice soon enough.

"This feels different," Patrick said, drifting off into his imagination, letting his brain flood with memories.

"Because there are two?"

"No, that is not what I mean. I guess I was trying to say that it is different because it feels calmer. It is almost like we are finally more at ease this time around. Hopefully, that means we won't mess these two up too badly."

Pete leaned back up on one elbow, wanting to see the expression on Patrick's face. "Impossible, kids do not get to go through life with us as parents and somehow manage to be average. At least we love them and cherish them."

"Fair point,"

"At least our gremlins are f*cking inclusive and bright and inquisitive and able to be whoever they want to be,"

"Fair point, as well, of course,"

"Some parts of their lives are kinda private, but we don't need someone causing our family the hell of being outed. LGBTQ parents and what not, ones with influence."

"I bet the us being gay together thing would barely be a blip on the radar with the way that people have thought about us that way for years,"

"This is more about the trans thing, you know that,"

"That is what makes you such an incredible human being. I love you because of everything that you have been through, not in spite of it. It is what makes you, you. If you were never able to be who you were meant to be, I really don't think we would have the band, or our amazing kids that you are such a great parent of, or our loving marriage that constantly reminds me that I am the luckiest man in the entire world. Our peace, or whatever this is now, is perfect. And, while I do love you being pregnant I know this is only a small part of our journey. This is the last time, and it feels right."

"Why do you always insist on saying things that make me start crying?"

"Oh, it is nothing you wouldn't say if the roles were reversed,"

"I love you,"

"I know,"

"You are going to Han Solo me? While I am emotional and pregnant and a wreck? For shame."

Patrick only let out a small sigh before kissing Pete on the forehead in response, getting up to shower right after.

Pete finally was able to push himself up into a sitting position. He ran a hand over his baby bump, smiling at the absurd stupidity of it all. "Kids, I forgot to tell you that your dad thinks he is a damn comedian. He is always forgetting that that role is already held, by me."

***

"Thirty-five weeks!" Pete shouted, shocked that he actually got to say those words, out loud. He felt pretty good, but he could not wait for it to all be over.

Patrick looked up from the guitar he was working on for just a moment. The expression on Pete's face had changed dramatically in just a few seconds. "Are you good?"

"The universe saw that I was getting too comfortable,"

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?"

"My water just broke,"

"Ah, so you WERE having contractions last night. I had a feeling that you were lying to me."

"They were pretty far apart last night,"

"Yeah? And, how far apart are they now?"

"A-bout...six minutes..." Pete hissed, unable to conceal any pain that he was in.

"sh*t! We probably needed to leave a few hours ago. I'll go tell the kids, Jack can watch the girls until Andy and Meredith can get here. I will grab your bag. You just...uh...wait here and text...everyone...they should all know."

Pete stood up, one hand against his back. He was feeling so very stereotypically pregnant right now. "This is round four, remember baby, I have got this. It will be fine, I will call Dr. Auxter, change my pants, and meet you in the car."

"Alright, you've got the plan," Patrick took a deep breath, trying to reason with the shiny new anxiety in his brain. "You can lead the way."

"That's right, I am the quarterback, you are on offense, and happened to get my pregnant, but I am still the one calling the plays."

"Right, right, sports analogies, that will calm me down,"

Pete but his hands on the very slightly shorter man's shoulders, holding him in place. "Hey, listen, we have been through this before. We are older and we are wiser now, remember? Calmer, better, at peace. Well, I am going to need you to find some of that peace because I am going to end up losing my sh*t...you are kinda tripping me out here. Deep breaths, no stress."

"Yes, yes, you are right, I'm sorry,"

"It is okay, I promised that it was going to be just fine. I fully intend to keep that promise. It is really just going to be just fine. I meant it. Now, let's get to the hospital so that we can have our little girls." The last sentence left Pete cringing, and not from the pain. "Oh sh*t, I'm sorry."

"Girls? We are having two more girls?" Patrick asked, positively beaming. "Really?"

"Yeah, I know that we do not normally find out the sex and that it was stupid, but there was something I wanted to buy...and you know that I think that gender is such a f*cking joke of a social construct, but I also did not want to theme the nursery around nautical stuff like we were planning and as much as I hate what I am saying I know my society ruined brain would feel better about the fairytale theme if I knew they were girls."

"Ah, I see,"

"Are you mad?"

"Mad? Why on earth would I be mad? We are going to have two little girls. Four daughters, one son. We are so outnumbered."

"I really would not want it any other way,"

***

At ten-thirty and at ten-fifty-five two beautiful little girls were delivered into the world, quite healthy and quite magical. Their entrance into the world was uneventful and easy going. They appeared just like that. It could have been from the new peace, but it was a highly illogical thought, no matter how fun.

Patrick's hand was bruised from the tight grip Pete had on him. He only really noticed it when he was given one of the girls. She looked so much like Pete already. She was absolutely incredible.

"These two, they are definitely the spitting image of you," Patrick laughed.

"About time, I mean, the other kids have all of these little pieces of me, but for the most part it is all Stump blood. Do you realize that I have given birth to three redheads? I have to pull out identification sometimes just to pick up the kids and prove that they belong to me. My main contribution to our kids is thick curls."

"It is not like Jack and Lucy don't look a lot like you, too. You are being a tad bit dramatic."

Pete rolled his eyes. "I can be dramatic. I just pushed two more of your big headed kids out of my body. Apparently, this was the first time my non-white presenting genes got a say so in any of the people I made."

"That's...I am not going to rationalize that with a response. We still need to name these girls. We shouldn't be fighting. Andy and Meredith are going to be bringing the kids up here soon."

"Are we sticking to our traditions? Or are we pulling something out of a hat? What if we actually let Andy name one? He's asked every time."

"I guess it depends on what you want to do, but also, no, Andy is not going to name one of our children. That is just weird."

"Only fair,"

"Yeah, maybe, but by that logic, any time someone asks you the same question four times, you are just going to give in and say yes.

"It usually works when our kids do it to you,"

"That is because I am a sucker,"

"I know, so what will it be, Stump?"

"I...shoot me some that you have been thinking about?

"Alright. The names that keep coming to me are: Nova, Monroe, Lennon, Saylor, Augustine, all great choices. I've seriously got to stay off of Pinterest when I'm pregnant. I also have Cora, Kaia, Maeve..."

Patrick cut Pete off before he could say any more. "Kaia Lennon, Saylor Monroe?"

"I love those. Those are perfect."

"You are perfect,"

"You are going to make me cry, again. I'm way too exhausted to cry. Stop it."

"I am sorry, I love you,"

"I know," Pete said, laughing harder than he should have been.

"Been saving that one for a while, haven't you? You are such a nerd."

"Oh, yes, I knew it was going to come in handy."

Patrick shook his head and turned his attention back to the baby in his arms. "Welcome to the world, Kaia, your family is a little crazy, but there is so much love,"

Pete smiled dreamily at the twin in his own arms. "Saylor, I am going to have to get you a boat,"

"That's a weird promise to make right now,"

"I don't know, I'm tired," He laughed again, mostly out of the absurdity of the thoughts swirling around in his head. One of which had been to tell the world everything. His family was far too incredible to keep partially shrouded in darkness. Those that didn't like it were welcome to look the other way. "I love you,"

"I know,"

Pete glared at his husband and shook his head. This was it. They were complete. Perfect. For real, this time.

Chapter 4: Sorcerer of The Sword Coast

Chapter Text

He felt like he had just come alive. Maybe he really had. Some flashes of memories were there, but nothing was exceptionally clear. There was not really any sense to it all. He leveled his breathing. It was somehow getting easier.

His surroundings began to clear. He did not know where he was or how he had gotten there, but at least he could see. He was lying in the sand on an abandoned beach, civilization nowhere in sight.

He stumbled to his feet, brushing off the clothes he was wearing that he did not recognize. A robe, a sash, both almost too soft to provide any protection for someone from the elements.

It might have felt bizarre, if he had any real idea who he actually was, or where he was.

"Sir!? Kingston!?" A woman with porcelain skin and a long, dark braid approached him. There was some fear in her eyes, but she was trying her best to keep it under wraps the closer that she got to him.

He turned his whole body to face her. She was wearing some sort of armor, and holding out a long staff for him to grab.

"Thank you," He spit out, despite not knowing anything about the situation at hand or why she would be giving it to him.

"It is the least I can do, after you saved my life back there. You do seem like you know your way in combat without this, but we will need all of the help that we can get."

Now he was certain that he was going insane. The fear rose in his chest until it made him choke. He didn't even remember his own name, only that his life had been in serious danger.

"Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost?"

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

"I believe that when the ship crashed we landed on the southern part of the coast, though I would be lying if I said where exactly we were. That much I do not know. Not enough to allow me specifics. We will have to make our way inland. We will find civilization, someone will know the way to the city."

"Right," He looked at his bare arms, the bands on his wrists. Nothing felt right or familiar. He knew that he was missing something or, someone. "Guess we should keep going then,"

"Of course. And, we will find him. I know that we will. He could not have gone far if he survived the crash."

Flashes of gruesome creatures, the woman before him, another with an interesting nose, and the crash of the ship they were on all flashed before his eyes. None of it felt real, just small odds and ends. All of the images played out like a bad poem's energy, except for one little thing.

Him. He was a vision of comfort, somehow. He represented safety and security. He was home. The man who made the cuff bracelet he wore on his right arm. He knew it was him. And, he knew in that moment that he needed him, he just didn't know why.

"I hope you are right, I hope that he survived,"

"I am not usually so optimistic about anything, but this is different. I believe in my heart that he survived the crash."

"All I want is to live through this long enough to have an idea about who I am,"

"You have got me feeling that optimism again. You can get your memory back, I believe it."

He listened carefully to her words. She did mean what she said. She was going to do her best to help him, no matter what. He had no real idea how much he had previously told her, but he actually believed that everything was going to be okay and that they were going to find him.

***

They walked down a sad stretch of beach. Dead fishermen, dead animals, those of them who definitely did not survive the crash, all among the damaged boats, viscera, and pieces of the broken ship that decorated the sand.

It was difficult not to think about the families that were missing loved ones, people that they likely would never get a chance to mourn or find closure over. His thoughts were cloudy, but it was hard not to play into the reality that he could be the missing loved one or be unable to find closure for the one he was missing, too.

They had to find him. He had not wanted to get his hopes up just yet, but every body that wasn't him gave him more belief that they would succeed.

And then, in the woods near a druid grove, he was there.

He was leaning up against a tree with a guitar in hand, singing to a bird that was on a branch beside him. The bird, singing along beautifully. The sight of him somehow lifted an entire world worth of weight off of his shoulders in that moment when their eyes finally met.

The man, slight, but somehow quite powerful looking, seemed to melt at the sight of him, as well. He sat his guitar down and ran to him, wanting everything to be okay again.

Him, a ginger haired bard of a man with a neatly trimmed beard was the answer to so many of his questions. They held each other in a warm embrace as soon as they were able to get their hands onto each other.

"I thought that I might never see you again," Him, he, whispered, voice suddenly shaky compared to his singing. "I thought my life was over. I know that I cannot do this without you."

Everything. Anything. All at once. The strong thoughts that had been swirling inside of his mind, only pieces before, came slamming back together like a difficult puzzle. It all made perfect sense now and the love between them felt white hot.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you. The thought that you might not have made it through the crash was too hard to bare."

"Good thing our fears were not realized,"

"Indeed, Patrick, indeed," He said softly, so happy to allow that name to fall from his lips.

"And, we must thank the half elf for her assistance in keeping you safe,"

"But, of course, more thanks than I can possibly have to give,"

"My pleasure, but after what your husband did for me aboard the ship, it is the least that I can do."

"She is really quite modest, keeping you alive and out of trouble is no easy feat, but you are still incredible." Patrick whispered.

"I love you,"

"I know,"

Chapter 5: The Break of Day or A Small Club Bathroom

Chapter Text

Pete was pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He thought he could tire himself out somehow, manage to finally f*cking quiet the fresh batch of mental breakdown that threatened to take over.

He was an idiot. He kept saying it to himself again and again. He was stupid for thinking that this might not end in complete disaster. f*cking obnoxious thoughts pushing him to the brink, making him make bad decisions.

He looked in the mirror. Another mistake on top of the last five thousand he had already made in the last twenty-four hours. He tried to move a piece of his straightened black bangs into another spot on his forehead, not that it was working. He felt ridiculous. He looked ridiculous.

He contemplated in that moment that he should wipe the makeup off of his face, but the compulsion to then take off his jet black nail polish was going to be far too strong to resist.

He had to get past this. He had to find a way to convince everyone that he had not been serious. He wanted to play it off like it was nothing, that he was just like that, everything could be a joke, he was just weird and quirky. He could tell them that. Maybe, if he could manage even a fraction of coming off as genuine, he wouldn't have to worry about possibly ruining the greatest friendship he had ever had. And, with as crappy as he had been at maintaining any type of relationship in the past, he was not really trying to risk this particular one.

He couldn't live without his other half. Which, to be fair, was exactly how he got into this mess in the first place. The problem was that being in love with his best friend was not something he thought he would ever be good at hiding, but that was mostly because he still couldn't believe that he allowed it to happen to begin with.

To top it all off, he would have had a better chance chalking it up to being some random nonsense slipping from his dumb mouth if he hadn't took off almost immediately after.

There was a knock at the door. He knew that locking himself in the venue bathroom would only protect him for so long. He was going to have to face the literal music, eventually.

"I'll be out in a minute," He called to the person on the other side of the door.

"Pete, c'mon, it's me, can you please let me in?" Patrick's voice was a bit strained from singing, but Pete could still hear the concern for him in his tone.

"I...I don't really want to,"

"Pete, please? I want to talk about what happened back there."

"You are already talking,"

"Face to face,"

"Besides, there is absolutely nothing to talk about. It was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Pete, seriously? You think you can pull that crap with me? Let. Me. In."

Pete carefully unlocked the door and let Patrick in. It was clear that he was flustered. He even took his hat off and put it back on several times as he tried to prepare to speak to his friend. Pete thought it was adorable. He hated that.

"Trick, I am so sorry, I should not have told you I loved you like that...on stage. That should not have been the first time you were hearing it. In fact, you should not have had to hear it, at all. If you don't mind, maybe we could try to forget it ever happened?"

"I don't really think we can do that,"

"Oh,"

"Do you remember like...three years ago...sitting in that park, we were talking about love and life and I stupidly said in the most rude and unfortunate way possible, that I could never see myself falling in love with a man?"

"Yes, I was careful about my brood topics after that,"

"Well, I think it is because I didn't want anyone else that wasn't you...and I never thought that I would be the one who would be the last to know that you were pining over...me."

"Ah, I see,"

"Yeah,"

"That does complicate things,"

"I know. I feel so stupid. I feel so confused. I'm lost. I'm...straight...or straight adjacent...I don't know."

"If you are attracted to me, you realize that isn't a straight thing to be feeling?"

Patrick shook his head. "Yeah, I know,"

"I'll f*cking say what I said again. I am in love with you. I have never felt this way about anyone else, not with this intensity. You are my twin flame, my soulmate, the light...and the dark. It hurt knowing that, not knowing if I could ever have you. And, yeah, I let my mouth get the better of me sometimes and I can be kind of a jerk who doesn't consider how my dumb f*cking thoughts might affect other people. I shouldn't have said that sh*t in front of people, but I meant it and I needed to say it. Every last word."

"I see,"

"The only regret I have is that I didn't tell you sooner, because I should have, ages ago...basically the moment we met, because I knew, deep down, back then that you were going to destroy me." Pete took another deep breath, it was all he had been able to do in between his thoughts that Patrick thankfully allowed him to get out. "If this f*cks us or f*cks the band, I guess so be it. I'll take the f*cking blame. Just proves the point, I really do manage to ruin everything that I touch."

"Would you just shut the hell up for a minute?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry man,"

"Let me see something," Patrick whispered. He took a step closer, placing his hands on the sides of Pete's face. He pulled him into a kiss, soft and warm, deepening as they sunk into each other.

The kiss ended abruptly when the bathroom door opened and their drummer walked in. Patrick had forgotten to relock the door. The newfound tingles began to fade away, desire shoved down in place of reality.

"I f*cking called it! Joe owes me ten bucks. I knew that you two were gonna hook up after that sh*t...unless you already were..."

Pete interrupted Andy before he went off the rails. "Hold up! No! Go take a piss, Andy, and then get the hell out!"

"Pete and I have some things we need to discuss," Patrick added in a calmer tone.

"Maybe I am wrong, but don't you think it is going to be hard to discuss anything with Pete's tongue down your throat?" Andy asked, laughing so hard he had to put a hand on his chest.

"Please get out and go get your ten bucks," Patrick groaned with a complimentary eye roll.

"Please, f*ck, for the good of the band," Pete tried to begin to further wager a way to get their drummer out of the bathroom, but he was pretty sure that the moment had already passed.

"For the good of the band? I thought we were going to do the Beatles, but instead we are trying to do Fleetwood Mac."

"ANDY, for the love of god!" Patrick shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration that Pete tried not to laugh at.

"Yes, okay, I am going, I am gone...but, also, guys, I am actually happy for you. For us, because the tension was getting a bit ridiculous." Andy said, finally tiptoeing out the door.

They were alone again. Pete's face hurt because he couldn't stop smiling. Patrick had a more reserved look on his face, but he was blushing just the same.

"You idiot, you basically asked for someone to follow you in here," Pete chuckled.

"Tell me how you would feel after someone tells you that they love you for the first time in front of a crowd of people when you have not been in an intimate relationship with them and see how it feels. See if you are in the right mind and able to remember to lock doors? Would your brain work?"

"Oddly specific, but I get what you are saying. How many more times to I have to apologize to you before you will kiss me again?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I promise that you can just kiss me,"

"I really, really, really want to do that,"

Patrick snaked an arm around Pete's waist and pulled him flush against him. "Then do it,"

The two met in another incredible kiss. This kiss said a lot more than the previous one had, but they knew in the following days they would have much more to discuss, and they actually would discuss it.

Pete pushed away to finally catch his breath. "Holy sh*t,"

"What?"

"I like...really f*cking love you,"

Patrick smiled, almost going to grab for his hat again. "I know,"

Chapter 6: Dimondback

Chapter Text

"Who is the new kid?" Pete asked, flipping his dark hair back so that he could get a better look at him.

As his scent became overpowering Pete had to look away. He had to touch his tongue to the tips of his fangs, lest he do anything incredibly f*cking stupid.

The teenager in the varsity sweater made eye contact with him. He knew full well that he had just been scented, but he was not about to be outed in front of his date, or in front of his friends. This pretty and very stupid alpha dropout leaning up against the white brick on the outside of the diner was not going to ruin his day. He would not be swayed by someone dressed in all black, giving off the brooding look. He was not that kind of omega. It was unfortunate that he was one, at all.

He also knew that he needed to be aware of any sudden movement. He was not too terribly dumb, despite what his father thought. As much as he tried to mask his true nature, he could not deny what he knew about biology and bond mate psychology. He hadn't seen an alpha of any kind react that strongly to his presence before. It shook him to his core, terrified amusem*nt toward the older boy, certain that he must have been imagining things.

The alpha's friend, who went by the name Andrew, leaned in and whispered something about the omega, but he couldn't hear and could only speculate.

"Ah, we should get out of here, wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable," The alpha's fangs were still exposed and visible in the dark under the neon signage of the restaurant. He flipped up the collar of his leather jacket in attempt to hide them, and wanting to block the redheaded omega male's scent from drawing him in again.

"Okay," Andrew said with confusion dripped in his tone. He was a beta and despite knowing what was going on, he didn't smell the scent of the kid with the thick rimmed black glasses nearly as strong as Pete could. He just didn't quite get the sudden change in attitude. Pete was usually so good at ignoring omegas.

***

Pete shrugged his jacket off and threw it over the back of the couch in his parent's basem*nt. He grabbed a worn out throw pillow and covered his face with it, he needed to scream into something, anything to release the buildup of tension. The pillow wouldn't smell of the omega, either.

Andrew watched his friend's obvious descent into madness, unsure if he would be able to say anything that would help. "Uh, Pete?"

"Whaaaat?" Pete drug the word out that was already muffled from the pillow.

"What happened back there? I have never seen you lose control and act that way before. You looked almost...feral."

"You know how an alpha is supposed to be able to smell their mate, know that scent against any others? Even before mating? Allegedly, we can seriously smell them from first sight sometimes. I think that is what just happened. I could smell the person that I am supposed to bond with. Hit me like a damn bus."

"The nerdy kid with the glasses?"

"Yeah, I think so. He just smells so different from any other omega I have ever had fill my lungs. He didn't nauseate me with something that was overly sweet. Instead, he intoxicated me with something woodsy, with maybe a little bit of a musk." Pete explained, finally deciding to remove the throw pillow off of his face.

"Do you think that he knew?"

"Yeah, I could see it in the way that he was looking at me, the way his body language shifted. He could smell me too, I'll bet."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that I have a mate, or I will. One that I should be able to have a full soul bond with. My dad was wrong. He thought I was defective."

"Ugh, yuck, I do not like this side of you. I do not like gushy, mushy Pete."

Pete jumped up suddenly off of the couch, back on his feet. "You know what, you are right. No use in dwelling on this. Action is better, not reaction."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to find this kid, we really need to have a talk,"

***

Pete waited by the library the next day. He had waited until the last possible moment, not wanting to startle the guy into thinking he was going to harm him or let on to the fact that he had followed his scent. He was pretty sure that no matter what he did he was going to come off as a weirdo.

He was patient, but he knew that it would only last for so long. He wanted the calm feeling that would wash over him if he allowed this stranger to get close to him. The alpha within him wanted what was supposed to be his.

The kid walked out, finally. He was with a group of friends. Pete had to continue to tap into his patience, needed to bide his time, had to wait until this delicious smelling boy with the ginger colored hair was completely alone.

He contemplated going inside and grabbing a book. He could pretend to read something that looked important, not wanting to accidentally get wrapped up in an interesting piece of literature that he might have actually wanted to read, but it seemed too stupid. It also did not help that if it was the same librarian that was working there last year she was just going to try to make him pay all of his fines.

At some point, while still leaning against the brick wall of the old building, he drifted off. He was not quite asleep, but not quite awake, either. He was daydreaming and being the absolute most deranged he had ever been in the twenty-one years he had spent on this stupid, blue marble.

"Hey!" A voice shouted, shaking him back to the present and destroying the desperately poetic visuals he had of a gorgeous field of wild flowers near a cemetery somewhere upstate that he had been to as a child.

The final tendrils of his daydream vision slipped away when the voice spoke again, putting a hand on his shoulder like a shock to his broken system.

"What the heck do you think you are doing?"

Pete couldn't stop himself from smiling as the almost woodsy scent filled his lungs again. He had not expected him to be standing so close. He quickly readjusted his posture, knowing full well that he could lose control of his actions if he was not extremely careful.

"Are you going to say something?" The omega seemed to instinctively tilt his head, exposing his neck. It was a dangerous move.

"Pull up your collar and take a step back from me first," Pete could hear the growling undertones in his voice escape, certain his fangs were visible.

"Alright," Already, this kid was obeying his words, nostrils flared and breath heavy. Pete had every right to command him, or, at least partially.

"I know that you can smell me, I saw it the moment you picked up on my scent. You know I picked up on yours. You know that it is why I am here. You are nearing your heat, we do need to talk about this." Pete explained.

"Do you even know my name?"

"No,"

"Alright, then why should I listen to anything that you have to say to me?"

"Because, you and I both know why we are reacting so strongly to each other. Biology said we do not get to ignore each other any longer. And, you can always tell me what your name is."

The omega scuffed his foot against the ground, put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He found a small blade of grass growing in the crack of the cement to step on, anything he could do to distract himself from the alpha's big, beautiful hazel eyes.

"My name is Patrick," He finally spoke, but didn't make eye contact. Even then, he was doing everything in his power to make himself smaller than his roughly five foot four frame showed.

"Great. I am Pete."

"I know who you are, everyone does,"

"Really?"

"Well, yeah, the marching band regards you as a legend. Practically every girl, omega or not, wants you. You are the cool older guy who just sticks it to the man. You don't follow society standards. You aren't afraid of anything."

"Ha. If even half of that were actually f*cking true. Damn."

"Still, I know who you are. You know who I am, now. So, answer me this, are you trying to ruin my life?"

Pete raised his eyebrows. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Because all of a sudden you start showing up in places that I am supposed to be. Before you try to come up with an excuse, don't bother. I already know what is going on. I can see right through you. The fact that you smell like sea salt and the way caramel smells when it is being sold on the pier to me is...you know that I am an omega, and you know that I am drawn to you. What you do not know is how upset my family would be if I brought home someone like you. They wouldn't be able to handle you, my father can barely handle the fact that I am an omega."

Pete stumbled on choices of words, but he honestly had no idea what to say. He remained silent, allowing Patrick to continue to speak.

"I know what our connection means. I know that technically I have absolutely no say in the matter because I am just an omega, but please, just let this go. If you truly believe that we are supposed to be mated, then you care about me in some capacity, and you will let me go and pretend that none of this ever happened. You will just forget about me."

"That is a little easier said then done,"

"It does not have to be. You are a strong, incredibly attractive alpha. You can find someone else."

"Okay,"

"Really? I did not expect an alpha to give up so quickly."

"I only ask one thing of you,"

"And, what is that?"

"Kiss me,"

"What!? Why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Least you can do, I think, considering the fact that you are definitely supposed to be my omega and I am letting you turn me down. Plus, you said it yourself, you find me attractive."

"So, you are an ass, just like every other alpha I have ever met?"

"Hardly, because I am still going to let you walk away. I just think that I should get something out of it. I want to know what it is like. Just once.”

"Fine,"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, now shut the heck up or I am going to change my mind,"

"Yes, of course,"

Patrick took a deep breath. The way his chest moved, heaving as he accepted the reality that he helped create, enticed Pete and made it even harder to resist the charms that were being dangled right in front of his face.

Pete was so down bad he didn't even know if he wanted a life after this. And, he barely even knew this man.

And then, Patrick kissed him. It was quick and it was sweet. It was somehow everything that Pete had been missing in his entire life. Everything he had thought he knew, suddenly broken down before him. No matter what came of this, he knew that he was never going to be the same after experiencing the omega's soft touch.

Just as soon as it had happened, it was over. Patrick patted Pete on the chest and slipped away from him as if nothing had come between them. Pete was reeling, but there was nothing left he could say. He was struck. And, the omega was gone.

***

In the days following the kiss Pete was a wreck. He had agreed to the terms. He had known what was to come of the situation. Still, he had a hard time accepting it because he knew deep down that there was no way that Patrick was in any way doing better than he was.

That kiss had brought him down. Now, he had no idea what he was going to do about it, a fact he was potentially going to have to deal with for the rest of his life. Biology and reality still said they were meant to be together, despite what Patrick thought was for the best.

In those days that followed ever so slowly, Pete spent a lot of time in his parent's basem*nt. He smoked and listened to music, strummed the guitar he hadn't picked up in a while. He tried to forget how the beautiful boy tasted on his lips.

"f*ck!" He shouted, slamming his fist into the large bricked wall that immediately left his knuckles bloodied. He was nearing a rut, certain it was going to be stronger than any he had before. Patrick's touch had put it in motion.

His mother walked into the basem*nt, but she was not alone. He would recognize that scent anywhere.

"Honey, your friend, Patrick is here. I think he wants to check in on you since you haven't left the house in a few days." She announced embarrassingly loud.

"Sure, great, whatever," He grumbled, already regretting not turning him and his mother away.

His mother seemed to effortlessly move out of the way to allow Patrick room to walk down the rest of the stairs. The closer that he got, the more Pete was able to catch more of his scent, all of him, including the slick that was obviously dripping down his thighs.

"Pete, I..." Patrick whimpered, noticeably squeezing those wonderful thighs of his together. Pete had a hard time not reacting to the visual way his scent had affected his potential mate.

"Why are you here?"

"Lots of reasons, really,"

"Care to pick a select few?"

"No,"

"Then leave, would ya? You already made it perfectly clear that this isn't going to happen."

"Listen, Pete, I know what I said before. I know you don't want me here and don't want me to get close to you with no objective. You really believe that we are supposed to mate, supposed to be bonded..."

"Go on,"

"I know that you are right. Ever since we kissed you are all that I can think about. The reality is that we really can't deny biology. It would be foolish to think otherwise."

Pete perked up. "And you are in heat?"

Patrick practically purred in response. "Yes, I am, but pretty sure that you already knew that,"

"No point in denying biology, of course,"

"Of course,"

Pete grabbed Patrick by the waist. "So, should I take you upstairs with me, or did you have something else in mind?"

Patrick placed his hands on Pete's chest, mostly to keep himself from making any sudden moves on the alpha. "I know I have no right to be this tepid with you, but..."

"But what?" Pete asked, now holding the omega at arm's length.

"I...am terrified,"

"Of me?"

"Well, no, not really. I find you very, very sexy, which I suppose is good...since we are going to be mated. I just..." He stopped speaking, seeming to shrink into himself. Despite being so small due to his nature, he did not look overtly omegan, but the way he moved said volumes. His eyes darted to the ground, one foot scuffing against the cold cement of the basem*nt floor like he had done outside of the library.

"You can tell me. I am not going to judge you. Or, you don't have to tell me, because we barely know each other and I totally get it. I feel like I know you though, I feel like you are the piece of me that has been missing."

Patrick sighed. "I feel the same way. It is as if my heart became whole when I saw your adorable face. I came alive suddenly, all at once, and it was intense and unlike any other connection I have ever felt. W-what I am truly worried about is my father."

"What about him?"

"He hates the fact that his only son is an omega. He'd probably never let me leave the house again if he knew I was with an alpha, like this, especially one that might dilute our precious f*cking bloodline."

"Dilute?"

"You aren't exactly what he would call a..."

Pete cut him off. "Purebred. I am an alpha of lower stock than your family."

"Precisely," Patrick nodded.

"The fact that I can barely keep my hands off of you, that I am so incredibly drawn to you, that I could drink all of you in because I want to worship you, that means nothing?"

"Not to him, it doesn't,"

"I could always bond with you in his bed, if that would prove the point?"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Sometimes,"

Patrick started to feel faint. The fever pitch of his heat was peaking and beginning to rage inside of him, flames that needed to be doused by pure, physical connection. He would not be able to have coherent thoughts for much longer if this continued.

Pete's nostrils flared. Patrick smelled even better to him like this, whimpering and perfect, fertile, like an omega should. He would surely be in a complete rut at his rate.

"I need to lie down," Patrick mumbled.

Pete nodded. "Let's go up to my room. It is far more comfortable on my bed."

Patrick just glared at him in response.

"I am not gonna hold you down and bite you, or f*ck you silly, not if you aren't down for that. That is not the kind of person that I am. We can just lie together, talk, actually get to know each other. I don't even have to be in the bed if you don't want me there."

"You are still an alpha, you can just take whatever you want,"

"But I am not going to do that, I want you to trust me,"

"I do trust you,"

"Then you'll come upstairs?"

"Yes," Patrick said in a breathy tone that managed to show off his state of arousal, despite his best efforts. His resistance to Pete's charms was only becoming more futile. "And youshouldabsolutely take whatever you want."

Pete swallowed hard. He could feel his body react quickly to the omega's words in so many ways. His fangs were out, very ready for that first bite. "Follow my lead,"

***

Patrick's heat lasted for four days. They spent the entirety of it in each other's arms. In between the sex, they spent hours talking and finally getting to know each other. To Pete, this was perfect.

On the fourth night of Patrick's heat, Pete left his mark. Patrick was quite fond of his bond mark, even in just the beginning stages of it healing. He wanted outsiders to be able to see that he had been claimed, all of them unworthy of his alpha's touch. He knew that Pete was going to treat him well, and that meant that he was under his father's thumb no longer.

"I do not think anything in movies or on tv can compare to this. You are incredible." Pete whispered, still pressed tightly against the young man that now belonged to him.

Patrick pushed his body back into Pete's, wanting still to be closer. "That's...reassuring because I have only had three heats, I hated them. I had no idea what to expect."

"Hopefully there are many more to come,"

"Unless..."

"I'd be the happiest alpha in the entire city, I still will be, either way,"

"A silly thought, anyways,"

"Would you like to hear something that might be even more silly?"

"Always,"

"I love you," Pete whispered.

Patrick chuckled. "I know,"

Chapter 7: I've Wanted Desperation

Chapter Text

The water of Lake Michigan was still dreadfully cold in the late spring, but that did not stop him from wanting to run along the sandy coastline. He wanted to kick off his shoes and feel that soft earth beneath his toes as his weight sank him and the waves crashed over his feet. It was going to take a lot to not do it as he had done before.

That wasn't why he had come to the beach on such a windy day. The sun beat down on him, barely doing the job it had, but he didn't care. He was a man on a mission.

Despite the advisory and the warning written on the sign near the pier, there was not any restriction to access the path. State parks like this were hardly staffed at this time of the year, and no one likely would have paid much mind to him anyways, he wasn't that memorable with a backpack on and his hood pulled up over his head.

Today was the day that he just got to be an eccentric old guy wearing sunglasses and a pair of vintage Vans that were almost as old as the hoodie that he had thankfully managed to keep in decent shape. They acted as a security blanket, giving him comfort he found himself needing more of as time went on. He was pretty sure that he was going to end up being buried in the staple pieces, so he was willing to do almost anything required to help them remain whole.

He walked down to the end of the pier, concentrating only on the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky sides.

Once he made it to his destination, he sat down on the very edge, feet dangling almost low enough to endure an icy splash. He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and clutched it to his chest. Once upon a time it had smelled different, like someone else and not like him, but the years had not been so kind. It became nothing, but a memory, like so many other parts of his life.

It wouldn't have taken much to go over the edge. The lake's heavy undercurrents could do away with him in no time. As fast as he came, he would be gone. Death would hurt, but the peace of his mind finally setting in and the end of so many problems in his life was certainly becoming more and more alluring.

As he drifted off into his thoughts someone sat down beside him. They dangled one leg off the ledge, sitting ever so close to him.

He glanced over, happy to see the love of his life and his best friend wearing one of his nicer hats. He was pretty sure that he was the one who had bought the damn thing, for a Christmas or a birthday, or something. It still made him laugh, the absurdity of all of the man's hats, but then again, it was nothing when compared to the sweetest smile he had ever seen paired with the prettiest blue eyes in all of the world that got him in such an amused state of mind.

"Are you here to talk me down from the ledge again?" He finally asked, hating how long it had taken him to actually speak.

"Nonsense, Pete, I don't have to,"

"Why not?"

"Because I know you and I know that you wouldn't do this and certainly not with your granddaughter in the car, waiting for you to come back."

"Fine. You got me. That isn't why I am here."

"I told you, I know you, I always will,"

"Then you know what is in the bag, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes,"

"What do you think, Patrick, should I get it out?"

"Yes," He nodded. "I have been dying to see it,"

Pete glared at him.

"Okay, alright, poor choice of words, but this is the ultimate closure,"

Pete unzipped the backpack and reached inside. He pulled out a gorgeous black urn with intricate white flowers. It wasn't the one that he had wanted, but once it was in his hands he felt the power of it. Somehow, it had been the right one. "Well, here it is in all of its glory,"

"I guess it is not too bad looking. I can't say I would have done much better."

"Joe thought a guitar would be cool, but I wasn't sure what the execution on something like that would be,"

"Probably for the best, no real telling how that would have turned out,"

"I am almost certain you would have left me in a box,"

"I would not be able to sleep at night if I knew you were in a box beside my bed or sitting on the coffee table. Good thing I won't have to find out."

"That is pretty on brand for you,"

Patrick was the one laughing this time. "Yeah, you are right...sorry about that."

"You never have to apologize for anything. I am the one who should be apologizing, absolutely and always."

"You are too hard on yourself, I'm just glad you have stopped taking that stupid blade to your wrist. I had thought we had left the darkness in the past, imagine my surprise to find out how wrong I was."

"Not hard enough!" Pete shouted. His emotions had not been in control for ten an a half years. He didn't think they would ever be again. He didn't care if he looked crazy. "It will never be enough!"

"Pete...please..." Patrick placed a hand on his shoulder, wanting to give him any and all comfort.

"You'll never understand how much I miss you. How much of an impact your absence has made on my life. It shouldn't have been you. It should have been me." Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke, not much left between him and what would soon be full blown public crying, even if there really wasn't anyone around. His mental stability was fragile and it was rapidly slipping. "I still don't know how I am going to go on without you, and look how long it has been,"

"I don't know what to say to make any of this better,"

"There is nothing you can say that will make this better. Ever since that night I...I have wondered why the universe would want to take you away from me. That call after the accident was the worst moment...the worst day of my life, because I knew that I was going to have to learn how to live in a world without you in it."

"I am so sorry,"

"Please...don't...it doesn't make this any easier...even years later you are all that I think about."

Patrick chuckled, hoping to help Pete make sense of the situation. "I know that I will never be able to make this better, I can't, but I can tell you that I am so proud of how far you've come. You came here, you wanted closure. And, also, how cool is it that we have a granddaughter? I just know that she is amazing."

"She really is,"

"Good. You are coming back. You are more grounded now. So, maybe, it is time to finish what you started? Remind yourself why you are here."

Pete nodded. He opened the urn that had his late husband's name on it. He thought back to the last time that they had visited this place together. It was warmer then, closer to summer and his birthday, and he had actually ran along the shore. Patrick proposed to him that day. He would never forget it.

He grabbed a handful of ashes, squeezing tightly, and then let them go low. The wind and the water taking it all away.

He turned to face Patrick. The gorgeous man was only a few inches from his face, still as he had been the last time they had seen each other. Pete was older, hair graying even more than he liked, more wrinkles around his eyes and his forehead. He hated that.

Patrick kissed him.

"I love you," Pete whispered, closing his eyes for just a moment.

"I know,"

He opened his eyes and he was alone again. Tears were still running down his face, this time complimented by a smile. He put the urn back in his backpack and rose back to his feet. The nine-year-old in his car was probably getting bored waiting for him.

It was going to be okay.

Chapter 8: Getting Along

Chapter Text

The news cycles had been rampant following the upcoming arrival of the General on the island. The military forces were unable to keep quiet from the moment that the information had gotten out. It was unlikely to stop any time soon.

When the boat was on the horizon the entire population of the small island was buzzing with excitement. The stories of this fabled man had been great and had lead to the belief that the problems with some of the more unruly neighbors, both on the mainland and the smaller side of the island, would finally be able to be quelled by his strong presence alone.

Pete tried his best not to get wrapped up in the breeze of insanity that had worked its way through the town and the fort. He knew better than that. And, as it currently stood, he found that the majority of British troops were almost as idiotic as their French counterparts. If that had not been the case, there would have been no way that he would have been able to hide in plain sight for this much time.

The same could have been said for the General that was on his way to the port. Pete knew of him, quite well, from years before, during his youth, long before either of them had managed to infiltrate the French or British guards. Things had been different back then, both still going by their given Anishinaabek names, but he doubted that the man could have changed that much. He would not have forgotten who he was, no matter how well he passed by being of half European decent. Certainly, he would not have forgotten Pete, either, even with his much shorter hair.

Most of those in the different barracks had been given the day of the general's arrival off, others working in shifts. It had always been easier for Pete than basically anyone else in the fort to slip away unnoticed. Those who knew of his true lineage often found themselves fearful, unsure of what he was capable of, and didn't dare to rat him out to a higher ranking officer. The rest knew him as their Captain, and they did not dare defy him, lest they be labeled a traitor or punished for misbehavior.

The opportunity quickly struck him that morning. A quick escape back to nature. The Great Turtle was still peppered with his kin. The closest he would ever get to feeling like himself, before war, famine, and disease ravaged his family and their ties, forcing him to make choices he did soon regret.

He found a patch of grass near the very center of the island. He removed all of his heavy jackets and shirts, folding them neatly into a makeshift pillow. He laid his body down beneath a tree, not wanting the sun to darken his skin much more than it already was, not wanting the sort of comments he often received with his full summertime tan.

The feeling of the Mother Earth against him was blissful. Memories of his childhood, especially of his dear mother, flooded back into him until his ears began ringing. Certain the spirits were trying to tell him something, he allowed himself to drift into the frequencies, his arm held out above him dancing to the pure sounds that nature had gifted him. His mother had been born here, she had been special to the land and the rhythm it bestowed upon her. She always told him the gift would become his, but until this moment he had no reason to believe her.

His hand instinctively went for the amulet hanging from his neck, centered perfectly on his chest. What remained of his life before he found unwanted refuge among the white men who continued to plague his people, with and without intent, was this lone item. The grandson of a respected Chief, he had been expected to be great, but had fallen short on so many accounts.

He felt the vibrations of footfalls of soldiers and horses against the ground long before he heard any voices or could actually see them. He scrambled to put his uniform back on, despite knowing there was no real way to hide what he had been doing. Troops moved quickly on foot, faster still if they were flanked by men on horses.

He stood up and straightened himself out, leaning against the tree with every ounce of pure nonchalance he could muster in that moment. As soon as he was in position, he locked eyes with the approaching General, curious to see how this would all play out.

"And, this unprofessional is Captain Wentz. I wish I could give you a valid reason as to why he was not at the fort to greet you as expected, but I have learned not to question him. He is likely our most strict and well maintained officer on the entire island, despite his shortcomings."

"Lieutenant Trohman," Pete said the man's name with a scowl barely hidden on his face. "I appreciate your very accurate introduction of me. However, you should find yourself incredibly lucky, for if you were in my unit I would not be keen on tolerating your rude behavior."

"You would sell every member of your unit to the Americans and you damn well know it,"

"I will let your commanding officer know that you will be reporting to me following our return to the camps so that we can test your theory, perhaps I can just sell you,"

The General dismounted his horse and stepped between them. "Enough! Both of you! I do not care whom reports to whom, or if neither of you report to anyone! I will not stand for this behavior! There will be no more disrespect of this nature toward ANY senior officers! And, nothing more toward the man who is performing the duties that were intended for you, he stepped up in your unexpected absence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Both men responded.

The remaining officers looked on at the argument in horror. Trohman was no slouch, but Wentz was as strong as they came and much more efficient in hand to hand combat.

"Good," The General remained firm. "Lieutenant, please see that yourself and my men make it back safely. I have heard stories about the kind of people who roam these woods. I will deal with the Captain."

Trohman made a face, but obeyed, leading the small group down the path and way from the tree line.

The General waited until they were out of sight before taking a step closer to Pete. Despite his slightly smaller stature, he was still far more intimidating than expected. He was strong willed and dangerous, dedicated and disciplined in ways many could never imagine.

"You never learn, do you?"

Pete smirked. "I would hardly say that. Most of the soldiers find me quite terrifying. I cannot speak for why some decide to be so unruly."

"You have gone mad then? I guess that makes sense. Would explain the reasons why that subordinate had spoken so freely around you."

"Hardly, I'd wager. That one simply knows I am a Native and despises the fact that I outrank him despite that. He just needs to work harder and keep his head down."

"Why does he think that you are going to sell us out to the Americans?"

"Because he is an American...and, he knows that I know he is an American...born in New York or something. He knows what I am, as I have said. Those who know think I am going to scalp them or sell them, really no in between."

"Where did they get the idea that you were going to scalp them from?"

"Me, mostly. I like it better when they are afraid of me. They listen better. Somehow it became a rumor that I could also practice arcana. That only helped my case. I spend too many days in the sun and I am going to be dark enough for questions to arise, but not so much if they think that I can turn them into a deer."

"That is sort of genius, I suppose,"

"Not all of us were blessed with your light eyes and alabaster skin,"

"Not like it is worth it. Because of who my father is, our community never fully understood me, tried to give me a proper place, but I always felt too different. Because of who my mother is, my father's family thought of me as a savage. I do not wish that on anyone."

"Patty-boy, far too sweet to be a savage,"

"I am much better at blending in when no one knows who I am, but if we are being honest...I hate this world without you in it."

Pete stepped closer, bridging almost the entire gap between them. "Then I guess that makes two of us,"

"Does it?" The General asked, breathing just a bit heavier than before.

"Yes," Pete whispered. He licked his lips, doing everything in his power to avoid drinking the man in, his aura, his energy, his pretty pink mouth. "Unfortunately, you still have a punishment to give me for not being present at my station."

"Hm, well certainly we can come up with something appropriate for the situation?"

"I am all for inappropriate punishments, as well, in case you are unable to think of something?"

The General bit his bottom lip. "Do troops patrol this area often?"

"Never, actually, proposed to become a burial ground. He brought you here on purpose. He wanted you to catch me talking to a tree. It was intentional."

"Good,"

"Good?"

"There may need to be further research done, is all, it needs to be peaceful,"

"Patrick...I..."

In a whirlwind of a second Pete found himself smashed between the large trunked tree and Patrick's body. Soft lips trailed from his mouth to his chin, down his neck and to his collar bone, roughly exposed by the fingers that swiftly removed his hastily buttoned jacket.

Patrick's hands flew down sets of buttons, yanking at fabric when needed, doing everything possible to remove as much as he could. He wanted Pete bare. He wanted him in nothing, a reminder of many sleepless nights and humid afternoons beneath the blistering yellow light of the sun. He wanted the mixed scents of patchouli, apple blossoms, and sweat filling his lungs as he buried himself in everything that was the beautiful man before him.

Pete let out breathy moans as Patrick's mouth kissed trails of skin down his torso. He laced his fingers through his sandy-ginger colored hair, knowing his body would be unable to withstand any resistance towards the touch that it had missed for far too long.

Patrick snaked fingers beneath the waistband of Pete's pants, pulling them down to his ankles. Finally, he was naked before him, stripped of all the lies of convenience that had covered him before.

He leaned back on his knees, looking up at Pete with his stunning, blue eyes with blown pupils covering much of the sunlight colored centers that Pete could never get out of his head. "You...are still the most beautiful man I have ever seen,"

"You don't look at yourself much, I suppose,"

Patrick ran his hands along Pete's thighs, trying to commit the way they felt to memory. "Still delusional? I should have known."

"I never thought that I would feel your hands on my body again, I have every right to be delusional,"

"Couldn't pass up a chance like this, could I?" Patrick said into the skin just below Pete's belly button, breath hot enough to make him quiver. "Although, I do miss your long hair,"

"I miss yours,"

"It never suited me, and you know it. You, however, were my raven haired prince, the one I have dreamt of for years."

"Prince?" Pete chuckled. "The British have rotted your brain."

"When I found out you were here, I wondered how you would react to seeing me. I wondered how I might act. This is better than any of that."

Pete pushed Patrick down onto his back. He crawled on top of him, immediately capturing him in a lust filled kiss. His hands worked quickly to remove his overclothes. His desire had grown rapidly. It was going to be impossible to turn back now.

He moved down, admiring Patrick's thick co*ck, dripping with the intent, knowing what he wanted. "I did forget how well endowed you were,"

"Don't get too attached. At this rate, there will be no way that I last long enough for it to be worth your while."

"I take that as a compliment, actually," Pete half mumbled, focus completely on the gorgeous member that was hard because of him.

He wrapped a hand around the base, leading the tip toward his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it. Once, twice, three times, until Patrick began to squirm and arch up toward him, signaling that he just should not wait any longer. He didn't want to make it drawn out and pained, giving up on the teasing only because he was still deep down a good person.

He wrapped his lips around the head. He slowly worked his way down to the hilt, careful not to gag himself. He slid back up, tongue flat against the underside. He repeated the action, faster each time he did, rougher still, until Patrick had a tight grip on the back of his head, holding him in place to force him to swallow him down as the much needed release ripped through him, no longer pent up by his daily life.

Patrick laid limp and sort of lifeless for a few moments, blissed out from his org*sm. He watched Pete carefully moving to lay down beside him. He admired his swollen lips and the flush in his cheeks, all made more noticeable from the tear stains left over from watering eyes.

He didn't waste much time. He leaned up on his elbow and kissed the man with full passion and all of the intensity. He could taste himself on Pete's tongue, a strange, yet pleasing aftereffect.

As the kiss slowed, he reached one hand down, grabbing Pete's half hard erection, stroking it back to life. His attention turned to a spot on Pete's neck, nibbling just beneath his ear where it always had driven him wild.

It didn't take long until Pete was coming undone, the same force of feelings riding through the white hot emotion and the arch of his back. He somehow felt whole again.

Pete sighed after the euphoric stars in his eyes began to fade. "We should get dressed and head in. Stay out here too much longer and I would imagine they will come looking for us, likely assuming at least one of us is dead."

"I suppose you're right," Patrick stated quite plainly, desperate to wipe at least some of the exhaustion attempting to take hold of him out of his eyes. "Would not be good if they found us like this. Positive itwouldbe the death of both of us."

Pete jumped to his feet and began to redress. He watched Patrick do the same, trying to save the image if this was the last time that they were able to do this. He wanted to remember as much of him as possible, even if it was the end of him.

His mind danced with thoughts about what they could have become had they not chosen this life. He quickly tried to replace the thoughts in his mind, but seeing Patrick standing in front of him was just not allowing it. Part of his brain was still convinced that they might have something.

"I never thought I would feel that good again," Patrick said, trying to fluff his hair back into something that looked like his normal style.

"Me either, thank you,"

"My pleasure, although, you did much more than I did,"

"It was worth it,"

Patrick walked over once they were both completely dressed and presentable. He swiftly snaked an arm around Pete's waist, pulling him flush against him before catching him in another tantalizing lip lock. "I am not finished with you yet,"

Pete squinted his eyes at the General. "What do you have in mind?"

"Perhaps, I can manage to recommend you for a promotion, a way to get you closer to me. Easier for me to keep an eye on you that way."

"Ha! Sure. And, what about during the meantime?"

"You can come to my quarters weekly, at least. I would prefer nightly, but I can't be keeping you from your job like that for too long."

"Perfect,"

"I better see you later,"

"Of course,"

"I am happy to be able to see you again. I missed you."

"I have missed you as well. I must say that this changes things."

"For the better,"

"I love you,"

Patrick winked after walking over to mount his horse. "I know,"