#and they have been my muses I’ve got way too many sketches of em of me trying to draw without my fav lil circle

[duskroll]

Wanted to try a more cutesy style with these two

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt. 

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as  the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its  charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

[starkergames]

Title: Dance Me to the End of Love Artists: @still-lovelygarnet (sketch), Lighinz (Ink),  @the-mad-starker​ (Color + Writer) Notes: Lighinz: This was the first piece of starker fanart I’ve ever worked on and I’m so glad it was with my lovely teammates. They’re such inspirations! It’s been amazing seeing this all come together. ❤️❤️ Garnet: This drawing has been a journey for me, and I am so happy to see it finished! It’s a beauty and I am proud of my wonderful, stunning, hard working and stupidly talented teammates, @the-mad-starker​ & Lighinz! And let’s not forget the fic that comes with it, Mads being an absolute trouper as always. ❤️❤️ Thank you guys for having me! Mads: I had absolutely no idea how much work coloring was but my teammates were always so encouraging and supportive. QAQ I’ll never take fanart for granted again QAQ But I’m happy I gave this a shot and I’ve learned so much. Thanks to my teammates and for this event for bringing us together 💗 The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license. 

Tony Stark was married. 

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse’s name. Fic below the cut!

February 14, 2020.

A Friday night to remember since it was not only Valentine's Day but also the Stark Valentine's Charity ball.

Every year, Stark Industries would raise thousands and this year, it would be no different. Most likely, they'd be able to raise more than any other year previously since the spotlight had been on Tony for the past week.

An important document had been leaked.

A marriage license.

It came as a shock.

The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license.

Tony Stark was married.

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse's name.

And so the paparazzi were on the hunt for a Mrs. or Mr. Stark only to find out Tony had taken a two week business trip.

False, they had discovered. The business trip was actually a honeymoon and the trail went cold until now.

Tony had managed to avoid them once he came back, no husband or wife in sight. That caused an even bigger commotion since it piqued everyone's curiosity. It was easy enough for Tony to remain unreachable, considering the man lived in the penthouse above Stark Industries.

It wasn't as easy for Peter though since he still lived in Queens with his aunt, but no one was all too interested in him. No one, except Tony.

Tony, who, despite Peter's insistence that he didn't need to be picked up, had arrived at his aunt's 5:30 on the dot. It wasn't unusual though since Tony was just spontaneous and hard to say no to.

Peter's boss and mentor sat beside him in the limo driving them to the event. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the man sitting beside him.

Tony Stark was aglow from all the sun he'd been enjoying and more than that, he was genuinely happy. The smile on his face said as much, a charming and almost dopey smile that not many were accustomed to seeing. Marital bliss suited the older man even if his smiles deepened the lines on his face.

To Peter, Tony has never looked so handsome.

He fidgeted in his seat, still not used to wearing the kind of attire that's required for these things.

Tony picked out his suit though, a cream-colored piece that only seemed to accentuate his slim but fit body. In contrast, the older man had worn a navy blue suit along with a very light, almost white, pink shirt. A rose was tucked into his shirt pocket and Peter smiled at the sight.

"The polls for the identity of Mrs. Stark is pretty funny," Tony mused as he scrolled through the media sites on his phone.

"Who's winning now?" Peter asked as he leaned closer to peek at his phone.

Pepper Potts's name was nowhere in the list but only because she had adamantly denied it from the very start. The paparazzi had also proven that Ms. Potts had been attending a company business while Tony had disappeared for his honeymoon.

"Who is that even…?" Peter laughed. "Natasha Romanoff…?"

Tony bumped his knee against his and chuckled.

"They got a hold of the guest list," Tony explained, "that's why she's jumped up in the polls."

Peter hummed but leaned back.

"Too bad the only person accompanying you is your protege," Peter said, knee bouncing as he scrolled through the list.

There was a separate poll for men, too, since Tony wasn't exactly shy about his preferences. Peter's heart skipped a beat when he saw his own there, listed near the very bottom at place number twenty-one out of twenty-five.

Warmth. Tony's hand settled on top of his bouncing knee. His wedding ring glinted in the light, a simple golden band with one studded diamond embedded inside.

"Breathe, kid," Tony instructed gently. "You sure you wanna do this? I know these public things aren't your scene."

Peter was anxious and it was obvious. He took a deep breath, stopped his fidgeting, and focused his runaway thoughts.

He knew that if he had said so right now that Tony would bring him home.

That, more than anything, was what had Peter returning the smile. It was a bit strained from the upcoming event, but it was there. He settled a hand over Tony's and felt the smooth, hard metal beneath his fingers. A gentle squeeze was given to show his appreciation.

"I can do this," Peter said and then corrected himself. "I want to do this."

"That's my spunky little intern," Tony smiled back at him.

"Not an intern anymore," Peter reminded him with a fond shake of his head.

He hasn't been an intern for almost two years and was expecting to take over as the R&D department manager of Stark Industries within the next six months.

And the relationship between him and Tony...

Tony grinned at the correction.

"Of course not. How do I keep forgetting?" Tony pretended to chide himself.

Peter was about to make a quip about his age but then the limo came to a stop at the entrance.

Outside, he saw the crowd of reports just waiting to catch a glimpse of Tony's spouse who they expected had ridden with him. He wondered how they'd react when they see just little old Peter Parker trailing after his boss.

Everyone was used to seeing Peter by Tony's side since he joined SI. Tony, himself, had called Peter his protégé, his next big project, the rising star of SI… the list of affectionate nicknames go on and on and has accumulated into a big pile of endearments.

Peter cherished each one.

"Knock 'em dead," was the last thing Tony said before they went to face the crowd.

The camera flashes were blinding. Even after two years of it, Peter still forgot to expect them until it was already too late and dots were dancing in his vision.

As expected of Tony Stark, he owned the audience's attention and smiled at every camera turned his way. Peter followed behind and was careful to keep away from the reporters.

No one was really interested in him since it was Tony that they wanted to get at.

Peter watched, amused, as Tony deflected every inquiry regarding his spouse that was thrown his way. This was a charity ball, after all, and the older man turned every question into answers that promoted and brought the attention back to the event in question.

Peter didn't know how he did it but it was a superpower he'd have to learn in the future.

The event area was decorated in a beautiful mess of Valentine's Day colors. The tables were set in white with stunning displays of bouquets. The roses were in full bloom, vibrant reds that popped out when surrounded by the more gentle pinks and whites of the surrounding flowers.

Crowds of people already sat at their tables, socializing and having a good time with wine being served.

It was a very large event and just standing there, taking it all in, Peter felt he could've easily lost himself in there. But then he felt a strong and familiar presence by his side and he turned, finding Tony right there beside him.

At that moment, the room could've been filled to capacity and Peter wouldn't have noticed anyone else besides Tony.

To him, it was obvious that he was in love with his boss. To others, maybe it wasn't as obvious since they liked to think of him as Tony's mini-me.

A lot of people also felt that they knew what Tony's feelings and thoughts were. It was easy to believe that since Tony was such an outspoken and outgoing person. He could talk on and on about something, injecting his insights and thoughts on a subject, and the listener would only have a glimpse of who Tony really was.

So, everyone thought that they knew Tony Stark because of his past reputation and his easy-going personality.

Then Tony did something like secretly getting married and people suddenly realized how very little they knew about him. They hadn't even known he was dating, let alone serious enough to pop the question.

They didn't see Tony the way Peter did, didn't know him the way Peter did so how could he blame them for being so oblivious?

Every smile Tony gave to others, he gave twice as many to Peter in darted glances and quick flashes. He always pulled Peter into the conversation and Peter wondered if others recognized just how often Tony spoke about him.

Maybe they did. Maybe they brushed it off.

That would change tonight.

Many had asked about the mysterious Mr. or Mrs. Stark. Curious eyes searched for Tony's spouse by his side and seemed to slip right over Peter. It didn't upset him at all. It made him happy that he was such a well recognized figure in Tony's life.

The money came pouring in for the charity and Tony gave them his dazzling smile. Appetizers were served, the guests' chatter dropping to low murmurs as they were served finger foods that could've easily replaced dinner with how generous it was.

A short speech was made and Tony looked so handsome with the mic in his hand and a bright gleam in his eye.

Peter, from his seat at the front table, could practically feel how the guests were hoping for Tony to introduce his spouse.

And like the tease Tony was, just shortly before concluding his speech, he had the audacity to say, "I know many of you are dying to meet my sweetheart." He gave the crowd a wink, "And it is Valentine's Day so it would make sense, huh?"

A pause as the crowd waited patiently or impatiently for the big reveal.

"But this ball isn't about me or my newly beloved, but we'll see if we can get some more surprises in by the end of the night. Dinner should be coming out shortly and then, we'll get to the fun part of the evening. Dancing!"

Tony rejoined the first table, completely at ease with his selected dinner mates. He flashed Peter a quick grin before he nudged his seat closer.

"What do you think? Will they be lucky enough?" Tony leaned in to ask.

Beneath the table, a warm hand settled on his knee, a reassuring weight. Peter had to fight to keep the smile from splitting across his face.

The whole dancing part of the event made him nervous and Tony had promised him that he didn't need to. Just thinking about it made his heart pound but when he looked at the older man, he felt it melt into a mess of goo and affection.

He subtly slipped his hand beneath the table, settling it above Tony's and gave it a squeeze.

"Maybe," he said with a faint smile.

They withdrew both their hands as the waiters came out and served dinner. The dinner SI provided for their guests was almost decadent. It warmed their bellies with good food and along with the alcohol from the open bar, laughter and smiles were being exchanged with ease.

The clatter of utensils working over near and veggies filled the room and the soft quiet conversations lulled as people ate.

And just as dinner was wrapping up, a familiar tune started to play. Peter glanced and Tony and found the man staring back at him, unabashed and grinning from ear to ear.

He returned it with an exasperated shake of his head, but when Tony held his hand out… Peter took it.

He was pulled from his seat and led onto the empty dance floor. The music swirled around them and the entire hall fell into a hush as more and more people noticed the pair on the floor.

Tony led Peter in a dance and it was there that everyone's eyes were finally opened to the truth.

The person they had been looking for all evening had been by Tony's side the entire time.

There was no doubt about it now, as the audience's eyes followed the pair. Fluid, graceful movements… Hand in hand, they swept across the dance floor, perfectly in sync in body, as well as mind.

It was undeniable, the tenderness that spread across Tony's face as he looked at Peter

Undeniable, when Peter smiled so sweetly at him.

They danced and danced and to Peter, it was like the entire hall disappeared. There was no one else but them and all the anxiety, all the doubts faded away as he looked into Tony's eyes.

They had taken a long path to get where they were today. What started as a simple, professional relationship slowly transformed into a quiet, but comfortable silence as they worked.

The silence became filled with chatter and once one started talking, the other would answer. Their quiet work hours became filled with laughter and scandalized jokes then with soft teasing. The hunger for each other's company grew until it spilled out of the lab and brought them together in movie theaters then quiet little evenings in Peter's apartment.

Their first kiss was a memory that made them both grin and laugh. A moment of spontaneity as Tony babbled on and on, a flush of excitement tinting his cheeks red. Then shocked silence as Peter shut him up with a press of his lips.

Do that again, Tony had dared and Peter hadn't backed down since. He'd done it countless times until they were both breathless from it.

Countless dates and secret smiles being exchanged at the office. I love you's being exchanged softly and meaningfully. Reverently. Then the ease in which those words came, each dropping it casually in their texts and whenever they parted. It didn't make those significant words any less meaningful. In fact, it only reaffirmed, over and over, how they felt about each other.

Months fast-forwarded and then Tony was kneeling in front of him, a black box in hand and Peter staring dumbly at him like he hadn't expected it at all. The mister to my Mr. Stark, Tony had casually said once upon a time and now… Now, the ring sat on Peter's fingers, a quiet but unbreakable declaration.

All those memories whirled around them as they danced. The ease in which they trusted one another was obvious. The love they had was now glaringly obvious, as obvious as the beautiful sparkle that Peter's diamond ring gave off, a perfect mirror to Tony's wedding band.

And when the song came to an end, Tony's mic turned on. That voice that Peter has heard whispering love into his ears come on the speakers, breathless from excitement and exertion.

"I don't need to make introductions," Tony said while looking into Peter's eyes. "You all know who he is." -- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games!

[themadbennyhatter]

Eyyyy more tattooed boys I guess

---

Eijirou Kirishima, Izuku learns quickly, is just as tattooed as Bakugou -- his are just very, very different. Where the blonde's sleeves are bold colors mixed with delicate beauty, Kirishima's tattoos are stark, solid tribal lines that remind Izuku of henna, in a way. The ink itself is in shades of brown, which might be where his comparison is coming from, if he thinks about it. His right arm looks like solid rock, all the way down to the most minute cracks that spiderweb between the interlocking plates. It goes all the way up his shoulder and throat, and even across part of his face.

"Bakubro!" he shouts with a boisterous grin, startling Izuku immediately with just how friendly he is. Part of him was expecting another quiet, surly man like Katsuki himself. Their eyes are almost the same color, though Kirishima's hair is red and falls around his face in thick, soft-looking tufts.

If Katsuki reminds Izuku of a wolf, then this man is a puppy.

"Can it, shitty hair," the blonde grumbles, slinging his shoulder bag at the chair behind the front desk and disappearing into the back of the parlor. Unsure of what he's supposed to do, or if Katsuki is coming back, Izuku turns to Kirishima and smiles nervously.

"Hello. I'm Izuku Midoriya. It's nice to meet you."

"Hey, man, you too! Did Bakugou rope you into a tat? He didn't scare you, did he? He acts all surly, but he's really harmless!"

"Oh!" Izuku waves his hands emphatically. Privately, he wonders how anything about Katsuki can be considered harmless. "It's nothing like that at all! I just- I saw his tattoos on the train. He said you designed them? They're gorgeous!"

He's rambling, nerves making his words fly before his brain can catch up, but Kirishima's easy laughter helps settle him in a way he hadn't anticipated. His shoulders relax, and his next smile comes easier.

"Hey, thanks! He tatted me up in return. It's kind of our thing, ya know? I'm not done yet, though." He waves his left arm, which only has a few crack-like likes creeping down his bicep. "Wanna take a closer look?"

"Can I?" Izuku breathes, and just like that he finds himself leaning over the man's toned forearm, tracing the linework with light, fascinated fingertips. From a distance, it didn't look like much -- simple and sharp, but done with skill. Up close though, Izuku can see every tiny line and crack and shading. He can marvel over the way the natural light deepens the shadows that already mimic natural rock. It looks so realistic that he can't believe he's touching smooth, warm skin instead of jagged granite.

"I know tattoos have meanings," he mumbles, following the dark lines up Kirishima's arm to his bicep. He's blown away by how the linework changes the shape of his muscle without actually changing anything at all. "Can I ask why you chose this?"

Kirishima doesn't seem at all disturbed by his close inspection. If anything, he preens under Izuku's touch the same way Katsuki had preened beneath his admiring stare. "I've always been super drawn to the earth and rocks," the redhead explains. "You should see my house, man. I've got crystals and raw chunks of different rocks all over the place. Plus, my mom always said my fascination with the stuff was a sign of my unbreakable spirit. 'Cause the earth is such a solid foundation, y'know? It might not make sense to others, but it makes sense to me, and that's really all you need for a tattoo."

"Will it cover your whole body?" Stepping back, Izuku glances toward where he'd set his backpack, his fingers itching to dig out his sketchbook and bring the man's passion to life on paper.

"Nah, I'm gonna cover my legs in different designs. This'll probably just take up my arms and torso. What about you; you got any ink, 'Zuku?"

Startled by the easy nickname, Izuku laughs lightly and shakes his head. "No, not me. I've never really thought about it? Well, no, I guess I have. I just never found a time that felt fitting, if that makes sense?"

"Totally! It's gotta be somethin' you know you're ready for, and it's gotta be something you love, otherwise you'll hate it forever." There's an eager light in Kirishima's eyes, and Izuku can't help but remember Katsuki's words on the train. The redhead looks ready to push him into a chair and take a needle to his skin now.

"Oi, don't scare him away," Katsuki barks, appearing like some sort of silent, looming god and making both Izuku and Kirishima jump. He's wearing heavy-looking boots, but somehow, he hadn't made a single sound. There's a cheese stick hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he's changed into a tighter tank top. The collar dips low enough for Izuku to see where the man's explosive flowers and dark storm clouds collide across his collarbone.

"It's fine," Izuku says reassuringly, looking between them and his hidden sketchbook. His mind is thrumming with ideas, so many of them that his head is aching from the rush of inspiration. "If it's, uh, alright with both of you... May I draw for a bit? I just- I don't have anywhere else to be. If you'd rather not have me underfoot, I completely understand!"

"You draw?" Somehow, Kirishima's eyes seem even brighter now. "Dude, yes! Have at it! You gotta show me, though; I want to see!"

Grinning sheepishly, Izuku rubs the back of his head. "Uh, sure? I'm not really all that great, but I enjoy it a lot!"

"Tch." Katsuki leans over the desk, shoving Kirishima out of the way to check what looks like an open monthly planner. "The fuck, the three cancelled? God damn it, that's the fourth time! Bitch can take his money elsewhere after this. I ain't fixin' my damn schedule for him again."

"Guess the nerves are too much for some of 'em," Kirishima agrees. Izuku tunes out the rest of their conversation, picking one of the surprisingly comfortable leather chairs in the waiting room and curling up on it. He rests his sketch book on his knees, bites the tip of his tongue, and lets his muse drain out through the tips of his pencils.

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 7c

Jamie met Emily’s gaze from over the breakfast hall and smiled sadly. He was equally as torn.

Emily decided to head over to refill her juice as she saw Jamie go to do the same thing.

"Hi. You ok?"

“Yeah, are you?”

"I think so. I'm sorry I yelled at you. It wasn't very nice of me."

“It’s forgotten about, Em.” He smiled. “I think I deserved it.”

"We can still be friends though? I still like you a lot but I don't want to lose being friends with you over this."

“Of course we can.” He reassured.

"Maybe one day things will change but til then we'll always be friends."

“Always Em.”

Emily smiled broadly at Jamie before heading back over to join Beth at their table.

Beth sipped her juice in silence.

"You're quiet this morning. Have I done something wrong?" Emily asked.

“No. I’m just tired.” Beth laughed gently.

"Did I keep you awake or something?" Emily giggled softly.

"Something like that."

"It could be worse. At least I don't snore like my brother does."

“Which brother’s that?” Beth asked.

"Louis. Though him snoring is the least of his problems." Emily sighed.

“Trouble at home?” Beth asked.

"Not exactly..." Emily ran her fingers through her hair. "Can we talk outside?"

Beth nodded and stood up, “Course if that’s what you want.”

Emily nodded and headed outside. She didn't speak as they wandered down towards the beach.

There was a comfortable silence as they walked together.

Emily sat on the sand and began playing with a shell. "The only other person who knows is my brother Jake so you have to swear not to tell anyone."

“I won’t tell anyone.”

"Louis takes drugs." Emily whispered. "Its been going on for a while now. Me and Jake have both tried talking to him but he won't listen. He's gotten himself into a right state a few times and I'm scared it'll only get worse."

“Have you tried speaking to your mum?”

"I can't."

“Why?”

"She has enough on her mind already."

“What kind of things?”

"She's not been very well. I was thinking about telling dad about Louis but I think he'll just blame himself for it all."

“Is there anyone else you can talk to?”

"Not really." Emily started to cry.

Beth held her as she cried. “You need to talk to your mum.”

"I wish she was here."

“Not long until we go home now. Only another week.”

"Yeh. But then I won't see you as often." Emily replied, wiping at her eyes.

“That’s ok. We’ll make time.”

"I hope so. I don't want you to go back to your school and forget all about me." Emily pouted, resting her head on Beth's shoulder.

“I won’t.”

"Promise me?" There was a flirty edge in Emily's voice.

“I promise.”

"Good. I know how to sneak out my house to come see you. We'll have to find somewhere to meet."

“Yes we will.”

"But that's ages away. Let's enjoy now instead."

“Yeah let’s.”

"Things didn't quite turn how you wanted when we were here last night. Maybe we could try again?"

“If you’d like to?”

Emily nodded.

Beth lent forward and allowed her lips to brush against Emily’s.

Emily rested her hands on Beth's waist and allowed the older girl to take the lead.

Beth’s hand went into Emily’s hair as she deepened the kiss.

Emily wrapped her arms around Beth, her hands resting on her back.

They were the only ones on the beach. Time became fluid as they explored each other.

Pulling away, Beth sighed. “I really don’t want to go home at the end of the week.”

"Why not?" Emily asked, stretching out to lie back on the sand, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

“Because I like being here with you.”

"Hmm... Sun, sea and..." Emily giggled, waggling her eyebrows.

Beth giggled loudly.

"I was scared to come on this trip but I'm so glad I did." Emily smiled.

“I’m glad you came on this trip too.”

"What made you ask to sit next to me on the coach? There were loads of other seats you could have picked."

Beth shrugged, “You’re cute.”

Emily giggled. "You're not so bad yourself."

“So what’s the plan for today?”

"I was going to explore the old city ruins. You?"

“Do some more sketching down by the sea.”

"OK. We can meet back up later?"

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The remaining days of the trip passed in much the same way until the last day when they travelled to the airport. They were staying there ahead of an early flight the next morning. The group was split up into pairs as the rooms at the airport were smaller than the dorms they'd been staying in for the rest of the trip.

Beth and Emily were staying in the same room.

They'd all been sent to bed early but neither of the girls were tired. Rather than going to sleep Emily suggested a game of truth or dare.

“Em? Truth or dare?”

"Truth." Emily giggled.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

"No. One of the boys at school asked me out but I turned him down."

“Why?”

"You only get one question at a time." Emily chuckled. "Your turn - truth or dare?"

“Truth.”

"How many girls have you kissed?"

“About five.”

"Who was the best?" Emily asked with a big grin.

“One question at a time.” Beth giggled.

Emily stuck her tongue out at Beth.

Beth giggled softly.

"Dare this time." Emily's eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I dare you to... Dance in your underwear.”

"OK then." Emily giggled, pulling her tshirt over her head and shimmying out of her shorts. She managed to pull off a couple of dance moves before her giggles totally overtook her and she flopped onto her bed.

Beth giggled softly, “You’re so beautiful.”

Emily blushed.

“I go for dare now too.”

"I dare you to pull a moony out the window!" Emily laughed.

Beth laughed, “Alright.” She pulled down her pants and did a moony out of the window.

Both girls were in utter hysterics.

“What time is it?” Beth asked as she started to yawn.

Emily looked at her watch. "Just after 9.30pm. You're not tired already are you?"

“Yeah, fancy cuddles?”

"OK." Emily smiled.

They ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms after just talking for hours.

The next morning Beth was the first to wake up.

Emily was asleep on her chest.

A few minutes later Emily's eyelids fluttered open as she felt Beth's fingers playing with her hair.

“Morning sleepyhead.” Beth’s fingers continued to play with Emily’s hair.

Emily yawned. "I've never slept so well." She smiled softly.

“That’s good. Glad you slept well.”

"Did you?"

“Yeah I did actually.”

"I'm glad." Emily replied, snuggling further into Beth's arms.

They stayed in silence for a while. “I’m going to miss you.” Beth began.

"I won't be far away." Emily reassured her. She looked at the clock. "We've got some time yet, let's make our last morning count."

Beth smiled, “Let's.”

Emily giggled as Beth tickled her sides under the duvet.

“You’re ticklish?”

"Yes!" Emily giggled.

Beth giggled, “That's cute!”

"My brothers tease me for it."

“How many brothers do you have?”

"Five." Emily replied with a grimace.

“Five! Bloody hell!”

"Yeh. Wonder what they'll make of you." Emily mused.

“Hmm.” Beth shrugged.

"I'm sure once they see that I like you then they'll like you too."

“How old are your brothers?”

[lastbluetardis]

And Baby Makes Three (1/6)

And here we are! The next installment of my Perfectly Matched series, where James and Rose begin the new adventure that is parenthood!

Ten x Rose, Soulmates AU, Teen

With the decision to try for a baby made, James and Rose eagerly look forward to this newest chapter of their lives.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Epilogue

“Well?” James asked, tapping his fingers against his knee as Rose hung up the phone.

“She says it’s completely fine for me to stop taking the pill,” Rose said with a grin. “And she said it’ll probably take a few cycles for my body to get back to normal. By spring, maybe, I’ll be ready to conceive.”

“Fantastic,” James said, scooping Rose up for a hug. “No harm in practicing, though, eh?”

“You’re insatiable!” Rose giggled when James stuck his hands in her back pocket and gave a firm squeeze.

“Oh, you love it,” he murmured, giving her earlobe a quick nip. “Besides, we ought to take advantage of being in the privacy of our own home. In ten days we’ll be surrounded by family. For a whole week! Gotta keep it quiet there. Here, in our home, we can be as loud as we want.”

Rose rolled her eyes at her daft husband, but she didn’t stop him when he slipped his hands under the waistband of her jeans to squeeze at her bum without the hindrance of fabric.

Later, as they were curled up under a blanket on the couch, James whispered, “I found a really neat app. Might be useful for us.”

“Yeah?” she asked, rolling onto her back to look at him.

He nodded and reached across her for his mobile on the coffee table. He held his phone out in front of them and tapped on a pink heart-shaped icon.

Rose raised an eyebrow when she saw the word woman’s calendar flash across the screen.

“You’ve downloaded a period tracker app?” she laughed, taking his phone from him to scroll through the app and all of its features and functions.

“I-I thought it might be helpful,” he mumbled, and Rose sobered when she saw how embarrassed he looked. “Just an idea.”

“Hey, I love it,” she said, turning to face him. “Really. It’s just that most blokes get grossed out by their woman’s monthly, is all.”

“I’m not most blokes,” James scoffed. “Honestly. Why are men such fuckwits about a woman’s period anyway? It’s a natural, biological process.”

“Nah, it’s five days of the month where we bleed from their love canal and cut ‘em off from shagging,” Rose said with a cheeky wink.

James burst into giggles, and Rose beamed at him, glad she could work him through his daft embarrassment.

“Love canal?” he choked out.

“Heard some mates at school call it that years back,” Rose said, snuggling her head against his chest as she continued looking through the app. She stopped short when she realized he had already inputted quite a bit of data. “Not sure if I should be creeped out or flattered that you know when I’ve got my period and how long my cycle is…”

“Let’s go with the latter, shall we? But anyways, I thought this app might be a good idea for us to have to keep track of when you’re most fertile so we can be sure to shag extra thoroughly on those days.”

“You saying we don’t already shag thoroughly?” Rose teased, and as she turned to face him, she pressed her thigh between his legs and gave him a slow rub.

His breath hitched before he squeaked out, “Nope. Not at all. Always do a thorough job, don’t we?”

“I like to think so,” Rose laughed. “And yeah, you’re right. That app is a good idea. I’ll just go and install that, shall I?”

Rose smirked as she rolled away from him, and flung the blankets off of her, as though to get up and find her phone. She squealed when James caught her around the waist and tugged her back against him.

“Later,” he growled, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him.

oOoOo

“Ugh,” Rose groaned, settling herself back into bed with a heating pad around her abdomen.

“All right?” James asked sympathetically, setting a glass of water on her bedside table.

“Yeah, just period cramps,” she sighed. “Well, pre-period cramps. And they’re not really cramps, they’re… I don’t even know. Nausea, maybe? I just feel… bleh.”

“Ooh, not even bleeding yet?” he winced, knowing if she was already feeling this poorly this early that this cycle would be a bad one. “Sorry, love. Are you sure you’re not coming down with anything?”

James pressed the backs of his fingers to her forehead, but she didn’t feel feverish at all.

“Nah,” Rose said, rolling over onto her side to spoon his pillow. “Don’t think so. Just having a day, I think.”

“All right. Well, call me if you need anything,” he murmured, bending down to press a kiss to her hair. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Have a good day,” Rose murmured, feeling a wave of lethargy fall over her.

She hugged his pillow tighter to her when she heard him leave and sighed into the fabric.

After managing to sleep for another hour and a half, Rose was glad that she awoke feeling at least a little more refreshed than when she first awoke that morning. She was a little hungry, but not hungry enough to leave her comfy bed, so Rose reached for her phone and mindlessly scrolled through it.

She checked her email and social media pages, then opened up a few games but closed them just as quickly, in an odd limbo of feeling restless yet lazy.

When she closed out of her latest game of Candy Crush, she saw the little pink heart icon of the period tracker app she’d installed on her phone a couple months ago. She hadn’t checked it or updated it in several weeks, but she really wanted to get into the habit of it since she and James were about to start seriously trying to conceive.

She opened the app, and took a glance at the calendar that popped up on the screen, and froze when she saw that the numbers on last week’s row of dates were red.

“Can’t be,” she muttered, counting backwards in her head, but the app was right; her period was six days late.

Her heart raced. She couldn’t be pregnant already, could she? She’d only gone off her pill three months ago; surely her body wasn’t back to normal yet?

Well, there was only one way to find out…

Moving with frenetic energy, Rose got herself up and dressed and scarfed down a slice of toast before she made her way to the pharmacy.

Once there, she located the aisle she needed, and balked at the selection. Bloody hell, did they really need to make so many types of home pregnancy tests? She grabbed a handful of boxes from various brands, and she tried to convince herself that the cashier wasn’t looking at her funny for buying half a dozen pregnancy tests.

When she got home, she shut herself away in the downstairs loo to take one of the six tests.

Several minutes later, she was nervously pacing in the kitchen as she sipped at her tea—having looked up if it was safe for a pregnant woman to drink tea, just in case—and waited for the test to be done. When the allotted five minutes were up, she took another two minutes to steel herself for whatever she saw.

It doesn’t matter what it says, Rose said firmly. She and James had promised each other that they wouldn’t let their decision to try for a baby stress or overwhelm them. But, God, the yearning in his voice the night he agreed to try for a baby with her made her ache for the test to come back as positive.

He’d be such a great dad, she mused, swallowing down the last bit of tea in her mug before walking back into the bathroom. She contemplated leaving the test where it was and phoning James to ask him to come home, but she dismissed the idea immediately. What if it came back negative and she pulled him out of work for nothing? No, she wouldn’t give him false hope. She wouldn’t tell him anything until there was something to tell.

She took a deep breath and flipped the plastic stick over, scanning the test readout screen. A pink plus sign greeted her. Her hands shook, and tears prickled behind her eyes. She set the test down and giggled out a sob. Pregnant. She was—

—Wait. What if that test had been faulty? What if there had been some sort of manufacturing error and that particular test gave a false positive?

Rose fiercely ripped open two more boxes, desperate for them to give her the same result as the first. She took the two other tests and paced in the bathroom this time, impatient for the wait time.

She read the directions for the tests as she waited. Two lines for positive, one for negative; the second would display a plus or a minus symbol.

Ninety seconds early, Rose picked up the sticks, hoping they were done.

Two black lines. Blue plus sign. She was pregnant.

Tears of utter joy stung at her eyes and she let them flow as she grinned goofily at the three positive pregnancy tests sitting on the sink and hovered her hand over her flat belly.

A baby! She and James were going to have a baby! She and her soulmate were going to be parents! She made a baby with her best friend!

She raced out of the room and to the home office to find a pen, but she paused with the tip to her skin. Should she really tell him like this? Surely this news ought to be delivered in person?

But she was so excited to tell him. The look of joy in his eyes when they both finally agreed to try for a baby was still fresh in her mind. The soft reverence in his voice when he told her how much he wanted a baby with her was still burned into her memory.

She was so giddy, and she desperately wanted to share her happiness with her soulmate. Rose nodded to herself, then set about making a sketch for him…

oOoOo

James glanced at his pocket watch impatiently. Rose had been feeling unwell when he left her that morning, and despite her reassurances that it was nothing she couldn’t handle, he was anxious to go home to her and care for her.

Well, it was already half-one. Classes were done for the day, and while he still had an exam to write, there was no reason he couldn’t do that at home, sitting on the couch beside Rose.

He nodded to himself, then packed up his briefcase and lifted his sleeve to tell Rose he was taking the rest of the day off and he’d be home soon, and as her if she wanted him to pick up anything for her on the way home.

But there was new ink on his wrist, a drawing, and his pen slipped from his fingers.

Rose had drawn the two of them standing side by side, with him holding a tiny bundle in his arms. Beneath the picture, she’d written “it happened.”

Blood rushed in his ears as he stared at the drawing on his arm. It happened. Was this… did they… was she…? They’d agreed to start trying for a baby only three months ago. Surely these things took time? Her doctor told her that it might take a few months for her hormone levels to return to normal, and that it might take them several months before successful conception.

Yet here she was, telling him they were pregnant. And, oh, how he ached for it to be true.

He bolted up from his chair, and barely remembered to grab his briefcase, laptop, and car keys before he was sprinting to the car park.

He seemed to get behind every slow-moving vehicle in Oxford, and he grumbled under his breath as he looked at his arm again, making sure he hadn’t made up the picture on his skin. He hadn’t; Rose’s drawing was still there, but beside it was a new word.

James?

He cursed himself for not replying to her in his office, but he couldn’t now, not when he was driving.

He broke far too many speed limits in his haste, but he finally turned onto their street and skidded to a stop in their driveway. He left everything in the car as he sprinted into the flat.

“Rose?” he called, spinning around rapidly wondering which room she’d be in.

Rose poked her head out of the downstairs loo, and James glided up to her.

“James, are you…?”

“Oh, Rose, my Rose!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a tight hug. Joy and hope and love swelled his heart until he was sure it was about to burst. “Is it true? Are we going to have a baby?”

“Yeah,” Rose whispered into his neck, holding him just as tightly. “Yeah, c’mere.”

Rose pulled away and took his hand to guide him into the bathroom. Three little plastic sticks were sitting beside the sink, and James clutched Rose’s hand tightly as he looked down at them all. They all read the same thing: he was going to be a father.

He whooped out a laugh before he grabbed her around the waist to spin her around wildly. His heart throbbed with utter elation as Rose giggled in his ear.

“Oh, Rose,” he murmured, setting her on her feet. He moved a hand from the small of her back until his fingertips brushed across her still-flat belly. “We’re going to have a baby. We made a baby!”

The tenderness and awe in his voice made her eyes prickle, and she couldn’t help but cup his cheeks and pull him down for a gentle kiss.

“Rose,” he rasped when they pulled apart, and Rose’s heart clenched when she saw his eyes were shining with moisture.

She reached up to cup his cheeks, and she stroked his skin softly as he nuzzled into her touch.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, leaning towards her until his forehead was resting against hers. “Oh, I’m so happy!”

“So am I,” she answered, slowly rubbing the tip of her nose across his. “I’m so… I didn’t expect to get pregnant this soon. How lucky are we, eh?”

“The luckiest,” James said, tilting his head to the side to brush his lips across hers.

oOoOo

James sat beside Rose, skimming through pamphlets and brochures as Rose gave her obstetrician—Doctor Ashwood—her medical history. He felt like they’d been there for hours, and if he hadn’t been assured numerous times that this was routine, he would’ve been panicked that something was wrong with Rose or their baby.

“Okay, time for the last test,” the doctor said happily. “Well, second to last. Pap smear. Would you, er, would you prefer privacy for this exam?”

James glanced up from reading the information about a nine-week-old fetus when he felt the doctor’s eyes on him.

“No, he can stay,” Rose said immediately. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. Unless, er, unless you’re uncomfortable with it, James?”

“Nope,” he said. “As you said, it’s nothing I haven’t seen. Quite familiar with it, actually. S’why we’re here, after all.”

“Nutter,” Rose mumbled, feeling her cheeks flame as the doctor smirked at the two of them.

“But your nutter,” he said sweetly, and she couldn’t help but grin at him.

James excitedly showed Rose the pamphlets he’d been skimming through as the doctor situated herself between Rose’s thighs for the pap test. He read her all the facts about how big their baby was and how it would continue to grow over the next few months and about the changes Rose should be expecting of her body as it grew to accommodate their child.

“All right, I’m finished here,” Doctor Ashwood announced several minutes later. “Now, for the final test. Would you like to see an ultrasound of your baby?”

James’s lungs hitched and he heard Rose suck in a sharp breath.

“We-we can? Already?” he asked, reaching out for Rose’s hand.

The doctor shrugged. “Don’t see why not. I’m judging you to be eight to nine-ish weeks along. Should be big enough for us to hear a heartbeat, even.”

James bounced his leg in nervous anticipation as the doctor grabbed a wand probe, a few cords, and her laptop. After taking a few minutes to set up her equipment, the doctor smeared a bit of clear gel over Rose’s abdomen and rolled her probe around, staring intently at her computer.

Rose clasped his hand tightly and they waited with bated breath for the doctor to say something. Just when James was about to ask if something was wrong, the doctor beamed up at them from behind her laptop, and she spun her computer around to face them.

“There’s your baby! Here’s the head, and the body. Can just about make out the elbows, fingers, and toes,” she announced, tracing her finger across the screen as she pointed out their baby’s features. “And…”

The doctor pressed a button on the laptop, and the room was filled with a fast whump-whump-whump sound. James’s ears rang when he realized it was their baby’s heartbeat.

“Our baby,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning in close to the computer monitor. “Rose, our baby!”

“I see that,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Its heart is racing though!”

“Oh, that’s normal,” Doctor Ashwood assured. “One hundred and sixty beats per minutes. Very strong. Very healthy. Would you like a print out of the scan?”

“Yes, please,” they said in unison, their eyes still glued to the computer screen.

And hour later, they were sitting on their sofa together, reading through all of the pamphlets and leaflets James had taken as they tried to absorb as much information as they could about what the coming months would hold for them. It was slow going, though, as they constantly got distracted by the sonogram photo and the short video clip of the ultrasound their doctor gave them.

“Y’know, we may want to start looking for a new flat,” Rose suggested that night as she twirled her chopsticks through her Chinese takeaway. “I love our home. I really, really do. But I want the nursery to be on the same floor as our bedroom.”

“Yeah, I agree,” James sighed. He glanced around at their living room. He loved their flat. It was filled with such fond memories and firsts: the first time he made love to Rose, the place he asked her to become his wife, the place they conceived their first child. But even as his eyes skated across the place they’d made their home, he knew that these walls were just that: walls. Rose was where his home was, and now it was Rose and their child. Wherever they were, that was where his home would be.

“Shall we start browsing?” he asked, standing up to both clear their takeaway boxes and fetch his laptop.

Rose nodded, and he cleaned up their dinner then found his computer and snuggled in beside his wife again to start browsing for the place that would be their child’s home.