#few of the miniature rose pictures I’ve taken over a week or two

[lazypanda-05]

[datninjalyfe]

Stay, Part 1: Chapter 14.5

There was a nice rhythm to Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship for the rest of the month.  They mostly ignored each other during the day as Iida took his chaperoning duties very seriously, but with their trainings being as hard as they were, they usually just fell asleep next to each other’s arms during the night.  For one of the weekends, they had a whole date that Mina planned—“This is so adorable, you have to go!  I’ll have Momo make you guys matching outfits!”  

Sure enough, Momo had made them crop tops for it, just as Mina had promised them— “I’m not wearing that!”—but when Izuku had said, “I think it looks cute.” Katsuki sighed and put the shirt on, all the girls squealing.  “YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE, OMIGAWD PICTURES!” Mina said, people pulling out their phones and snapping pictures.

For that date, Katsuki asked him mom to use the car for the date and she agreed, but only if she got to see Izuku.  That Friday, they went back to Katsuki’s home—a place Izuku knew well, but on the train ride, Katsuki could tell he was nervous.  “You’ve seen her a million times.  I’m pretty sure your mom still has lunch with her every Wednesday or whatever.”

“I know.” Izuku sighed. “I’ve just never—,” but he didn’t finish that sentence.  

Mina had told them they needed to leave Katsuki’s place by 4:30 am in order to get there on time, when the date actually started, so Mitsuki allowed the boys to spend the night to leave early the next morning.  Izuku bowed respectfully.  Katsuki watching him and bowed his head towards her as well.  It was slightly disrespectful, but when he looked up, Mitsuki was hugging him, whispering something that Katsuki couldn’t hear. When he asked Izuku later about it, Izuku had shrugged and said, “She just thanked me.”

The two took the car on their way to the address Mina provided them.  “Where do you think we’re going?” Izuku asked him.

“Knowing Mina, probably somewhere abstract.”

Izuku stared at his phone for a minute and his face became confused.  “We’re going to the beach?”

Katsuki chuckled.  “She would make us go to the beach when it isn’t even summer.”

“Yeah, it is a little cold.” Izuku said.  But he shrugged and grabbed the aux cord.  

“What the hell?  No, my car, my music!” Katsuki said, snatching the cord from him.

“This isn’t even your car!” Izuku said.

“Doesn’t even matter, it’s Bluetooth, we’re listening to my music.” Katsuki said, touching a button on his car and was going to command it to play something in the English, he saw Izuku’s face and said, “Play something romantic.”

Izuku looked shocked when Frank Sinatra started to play, but smiled anyway.  I always want you to smile, Deku.

They traveled to the address that Mina had texted them, getting a little lost along the way— “No, it said to take a left, Kacchan!” “Deku, I can’t go left!”—but when they got there, because it was so early in the morning and so late in the year, there was no one and Katsuki was able to park on the side of the street next to the beach. Izuku immediately peeled off his shoes, throwing them in the car and running out into the sand.  

“Deku!” Katsuki yelled, but he also took off his shoes and left them behind as well, running after Izuku. He watched Izuku put his feet on the wet sand and run into the water, his hair moving with the wind.  “Don’t get swept away, nerd!”

But Izuku didn’t pay him any mind. He wasn’t even looking at Katsuki, but out at the ocean, totally entranced by the waves as they crashed down again and again against the sand.  A gorgeous beach reflecting a pink sky in the wake of the sun.  Pinks intermingled with oranges and reds in the sky as the sun rose, a calm golden shade in the wake of dawn.  “Wow, this is beautiful.” he said under his breath.  

Katsuki came up behind him, kissing the back of his head and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pulling Izuku into him.  “You’re beautiful.” he whispered into Izuku’s ear.  The cold, foamy water sparkled beneath their feet.  

“Come on, Kacchan.  We should go to the actual date they planned for us.” Izuku reminded him that they needed to move.  They walked slowly though, taking in the senses around them.  Warm, heavy sand covered their feet; the rhythmic sound of gently waves crashing down against the shore; the promise of an infinite sun peaking above the horizon reflected in the water; the smell of the humid air so salty, Katsuki could taste it.

They walked for a couple blocks, realizing that their date was in a skyscraper on the beach.  The two went inside and were greeted by men in suits. Katsuki blushed, feeling out of place in his crop top with sandy feet, but no one seemed to mind.  They were taken to the top floor, seated at a table that overlooked the beach and watched the sunrise together, drinking tea that was brought to them.  

“It’s almost been a month that we’ve been together now.” Izuku told him.  

“Really?” Katsuki shrugged. “I’d forgotten all about that, actually.”  He paused and took in a deep breath.  “How—how are you feeling about all this?  About us?”

Izuku took a sip of his tea. He was quiet, looking into his cup and then out the window.  “I never want this to end.”

But the date did end and the weekend was over before they knew it.  School resumed and Izuku was back to mostly ignoring Katsuki during the day, which wouldn’t have been an issue, except that he followed Todoroki often, which slightly pissed him off as the two hadn’t even come close to patching things up.  Katsuki still hated that Todoroki saw Izuku during the week more often that he did.  Still, after all his classmates were in bed, Izuku was his during the night.

Izuku was getting more comfortable touching him, but it didn’t stray any further than it had already. They were exhausted with Aizawa working them as hard as he was and normally kissed each other to sleep.  One night, though, the dorm alarms had gone off once while the two were in Katsuki’s bed sleeping.  They awoke with a start, Izuku’s prominent jolt from the noise kicked Katsuki in the side.  “Ow, fuck, Deku—oh, shit, are those—?” Katsuki started to say, but Izuku was already on his balcony and Katsuki watched him jump up and out of sight.  Katsuki’s heart raced and he grabbed a pair of shorts, slipping them on and poking his head out the door.

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, MINETA?!” Aizawa had the small pipsqueak of a boy by his binds at the end of the hall. “I WILL FUCKING END YOU!”  A few of the girls stood behind Aizawa, their arms crossed, glaring at Mineta.  Aizawa held the binds tightly, Mineta being choked so hard, his eyes started to bulge out of his head.  

Katsuki went back into his room, texting Izuku: Mineta was trying to spy on the girls.  But I think you should stay in your room for the night. The reply from Izuku came quickly: I think that’s a good idea.  It felt weird to sleep without Izuku next to him as he’d grown quite accustomed to it, but seeing Izuku next to Todoroki during the day increased the heat in his body substantially.  

During an intense training session the class had, they were able to pair off with one another.  Kirishima pulled him away before he could argue.  

“Come on, give me all you got!” Kirishima said, hardening the exterior of his skin.  

Katsuki jumped up, giving himself a boost in the air.  He lightly ignited both his hands and using his quirk like bullets, made it rain explosions.  Several classmates screamed as they watched Kirishima being hailed with miniature bombs, but Katsuki didn’t let up; instead, when he landed, he yelled, “AP SHOT!” and singularly focused all his heat on one area of his palm, increasing the amount of sweat to ignite it, but when he saw Izuku in his periphery, he lost control of the heat in his hand and was almost immediately taken out by a hard hit to the back of the head from Kirishima.  

“Oh shit, sorry!” Kirishima said, un-hardening himself and reaching out a hand to help Katsuki up off the floor.  “Dude, you gotta stop focusing on him.” he whispered.  “He’s fine, he’s with Todoroki.”

“Yeah.  That’s the problem.” Katsuki growled.  

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

“It wasn’t a good look for you when you got jealous about Camie.” Katsuki snapped.  It was hard to peel his eyes away from Izuku as he went to kick Todoroki, but was halted by an ice block.  Izuku kicked the ice wall to pieces, circling through the air and then rushing at Todoroki again, who used his ice defensively again, his left side roaring with flames.  Katsuki stepped forward to help Izuku, but Kirishima stepped in front of him, hitting him hard in the side of his ribs.  

“Snap out of it.” Kirishima told him.  “I’m going to ignore what you said, but don’t say that again.  Now, come on, hit me with another explosion!”  

Katsuki also had a once a week “therapy” appointment that he had to shell out his feelings.  He hated those days, dreading each second during that hour.  

“So you and Midoriya.” the counselor said.  “You are together.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki said.  

“Sounds good, sounds good.” he said, jotting some notes down furiously.  “And tell me, how is that going?”

“Same as last week.” Katsuki said, getting more annoyed with each word.  

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.  Sounds good, sounds good.” the counselor’s pen squeaked against the clipboard.  “How’s your family?”

“They’re fine.”

“Yep, yep.  Sounds good, sounds good.” the counselor continued to write down the notes.  “Tell me, Bakugou, why do you call your boyfriend Deku?  Is that not a bit rude, especially for someone who means so much to you?”

Heat shot down Katsuki’s arms, through his hands, creating a small spark.  The counselor didn’t even appear to be phased by the small spark.  “It’s his hero name.  Do you not know anything about students at this damn school?”

“His hero name, huh?” the counselor said.  “Okay, then. Sounds good, sounds good.  And Yoyo, you talked to him lately?”

“Texted him this morning.” Katsuki lied, pushing his hands into a fist to stop any impending explosion.

“Yes, yes, sounds good, sounds good.  Have you and Kirishima started talking again?”

“Yep.” Katsuki said.  

“Alright, alright.  Sounds good, sounds good.  How about you and Todoroki?” he asked.  Katsuki rolled his eyes.  This was a waste of time.  He wanted to go back to class, train, see his friends, watch Izuku smile and love on him with the little time they got together during the day.  “And before you answer that question, I talked with Todoroki and your teacher.”  He looked up from his clipboard, taking his glasses off.  He looked at him as if he already had the answer.  “From what I’ve been told you two trained together under his father, no?  

“We did last year, so what? With all my trainings and all my extra school work, I haven’t really had time to deal with him.  If he wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me.”

The counselor raised an eyebrow. “Funny.  He said the same thing.”  He cleared his throat, putting his glasses back on and looked back at his clipboard, furiously writing again.  “I’ve talked with Aizawa about scheduling a training room for the two of you.  Friday morning sound good?”  

Katsuki grinned menacingly. A training room?  Hell yeah! “Sounds good.”

---

Shoto Todoroki’s POV

---

Shoto waited inside of the training room the following morning.  He knew that this was the only way to get Katsuki’s attention, which is why he suggested it at the counseling session.  

He didn’t always hate Katsuki—in fact, they used to be friends.  But lately, Shoto could see the distain for him radiating through Katsuki. He looked like a villain.  If his eyes could kill him, Shoto was sure he would have been stabbed by a thousand sharp knives a thousand times.  But he just stood there, not allowing himself to get enraged again.  

Shoto often reflected on the past. A force of habit instilled in him by his father, who told him to continue to look forward.  But Shoto hated the bastard and in his rebellion against him, had looked to the past quite a bit.  His mind took him back to the study room, when he saw Izuku pushed up against the wall, Katsuki’s hands starting to ignite.  

But it’s what Katsuki had said that triggered him: “Oh look, Deku—it’s your prince.”  Izuku’s…what?  Shoto cursed under his breath,  remembering what he had thought that night.  That coupled with the rest of Katsuki’s reckless behavior, Shoto was so sure that Aizawa would have transferred Katsuki by now, but he had no such luck.  Katsuki had pulled ahead of him, outperforming in both in combat skill and on written exams.

He needed to just talk to Katsuki, but doing so in a counselor’s office wouldn’t be conducive.  Instead, he decided that in order for them to come to an agreement, they needed to fight it out.  He figured Katsuki had some repressed anger towards him.  Shoto hadn’t quite understood why Katsuki had even gotten so angry.  It’s not like Katsuki knew anything.

Unless Yoyo had told him.  After all, the two had become incredibly close.

Maybe something had happened between them?  Would Yoyo keep his word to Shoto?  It was hard to say, but he definitely wanted to find out what Katsuki knew.  He couldn’t just go up and ask.  Katsuki wasn’t used to hiding his annoyance and certainly didn’t suppress any of his emotions the way Shoto could.  

So he asked the counselor for a training room, who told him he needed permission from his teacher.  When he asked Aizawa, he was met back with, “At this point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.” Shoto bowed, even smiling a bit.  He was ready to use his quirk against Katsuki, since Katsuki could literally dissolve his flames and spit them back in a large blast that Shoto couldn’t freeze fast enough.  The anticipation of the fight energized him and he looked forward to what would happen that morning.  

“Why the hell are you here so early?”  

Shoto sighed loudly, hearing the detest that Katsuki had for him in those few words.  He looked at his watch. “It’s 8:30.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “I meant why are you here before me?” Shoto shrugged and sighed loudly, but said nothing.  “I was told you wanted to talk?”  Katsuki’s palms opened, his sweat popping little sparks.  “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think reserving a training room was smart.  So start talking, Icy Hot.”

“You and Midoriya seem to be growing closer.” Shoto said.  His quirk’s left side heated instantly, flames roaring out of him.  Fuck, this is too much!  He cooled off his body with his ice quirk, regulating his internal temperature.  Katsuki didn’t seem remotely intimidated.  Instead, Katsuki hurled an explosion at his feet, knocking him backwards.  Shoto cooled off the left side of his body.  “I thought for sure you would have fucked it up by now.” Shoto put up an ice wall in front of him, blocking an impending attack. “Frankly, I think he’s too good for you.”  Katsuki shattered the ice wall instantly.  

“You’re not going to want to say that again.  I’ll admit, I used to think you were going to be a hard opponent to beat, but now that I can eat your fire and destroy your ice, your quirk is weak against mine.” Katsuki said, licking his lips.  “Any last words?”

A second ice wall went up, and a third and a fourth, blocking Katsuki from reaching Shoto.  You aren’t really here to fight.  You’re here to get information!  “You and Yoyo seem to be good friends now.”

“So?”

“Maybe you and Yoyo are something more.” As anticipated, Shoto’s ice wall shattered as Katsuki flew through the air, landing directly in front of Shoto, who quickly pushed Katsuki’s arm away that reached for him.  He grabbed Katsuki’s arm with his right hand, freezing it instantly.  “He fucking told you, didn’t he?” Shoto asked him.  “Don’t play stupid.  I know he did.”

Katsuki smirked and then howled with maniacal laughter.  “You clearly don’t know me.  I don’t fucking play stupid.  Did you really bring me here to talk about Yoyo or to fight me?” Pop, pop!  Two explosions broke apart the ice blocks in between the two and suddenly, Katsuki was jumping up over Shoto, forcing a hail of explosions towards him.  

Shit, this was his ultimate move from class the other day!  He blocked the raining fire with his ice and kicked it up at Katsuki, who maneuvered around the ice attack immediately.  

Shoto thought maybe for a moment Yoyo hadn’t told him anything.  But without Katsuki saying anything about it, he had no way of knowing. “Fine.” he said, after a few rounds of sparring.  “When I was with Midoriya—,” Katsuki pushed him hard against the ground, pinning him to it. “Fuck!  Let me finish!” Katsuki’s grip was hard, but Shoto didn’t really struggle to get away.  Shoto heard a deep, low rumble stemming from Katsuki’s chest.  Shoto could feel his breath hot against his skin.  Katsuki’s hand came down hard, an explosion that Shoto barely dodged, kicking Katsuki away from him.  

“I’ll kill you, Icy Hot.” Katsuki told him.  He singled a shot towards Shoto, who put up ice for defense, put it was too late. Katsuki’s blast barreled through it, knocking Shoto backwards.  “Don’t be an idiot.” Katsuki said.  A few sparks and Katsuki flew upwards.  Using his legs, he aimed the kick directly at Shoto’s head.  That’s Midoriya’s technique!  Shoto held up his hands to block and swiped his right arm up and with that slashing motion, ice blocked the kick.  Finally, I have the upper hand!  Shoto thought, and using his flames, punched Katsuki backwards.  

“What if I told you there is something between me and Midoriya?” Shoto told him.  Katsuki got up, but didn’t move.  He stood there, staring at Shoto.

“Scumbag, don’t you fucking disrespect me by lying.” Katsuki said quietly. That was the first time Shoto had ever heard him try and control his emotions.  “Especially if it deals with Deku. It’ll be the last thing you do.”

“I’m really not.” Shoto said. “I know you only have a few days left until the month is up.  I’m surprised you stayed together this long.  But when your month is over, he’ll see that I’m the better option.”

“Oh?” Katsuki said, looking up at him.  “I grew up with him.  I know everything about him: his thoughts, his feelings, his secrets.  He hides nothing from me—what makes you think he could ever want you?”

Shoto exhaled.  This was it.  No going back.  He had to remind himself to breathe before finally confessing:  “And you think you’re the only one?  I’m in love with Midoriya, too, asshole.”

They were both quiet for several minutes, both knowing that they could kill each other if someone even moved. Katsuki’s phone chimed, alerting him of a notification.  He cursed and looked at it, his eyes widening.  “Dammit.” He looked at Shoto.  “This isn’t over, Icy Hot.  But I can’t stay and chat about your damn feelings either.”  He got up and started to walk out.  

“You really can’t wait and talk about this?” Shoto asked him.  “The fuck could be more important?”

Katsuki stopped in the doorway and not looking back, said, “I don’t care about your feelings.  But this conversation is far from over.”  

---

Katsuki left Shoto in the training room.  He had just confirmed what Katsuki had thought all along.  And he and Izuku’s month was almost up.  What if—what if Deku won’t want me anymore?  He told Izuku he would give it his all, everything he had.  But if Shoto was an option?

Katsuki didn’t know if he would even stand a chance.

(previous)(next)

[princessvicky01]

Cake and Cuddles

Part 10 - The final chapter! This ends my OTP epilogue for Cullen x Annabel post trespasser and has been an emotional journey. For those who have read and left comments/likes/reblogs/kudos - thank you so much, you really don’t know what it means to have your encouragement.

Summary (SFW): It’s Cullen’s birthday, and what better way to spend it then with his family? The Dad!Cullen domestic fluff we’ve all been waiting for. Enjoy!

Click for: Whole story on AO3 or Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

And just in time for the end of @cullenappreciationweek 2019!

Cake and Cuddles

It’s far too quiet.

Annabel frowns as she slips her jacket off. Worry and suspicion bicker for her attention as she climbs the steps, listening carefully for any telltale cries or screeches that she usually received on her return.

When Cullen hadn’t met at the gate, she wasn’t overly surprised. He must’ve had his hands full without her around, and she never could quite shake the pang of guilt that leaving her family behind brought with it. The fading sun’s rays now pave her way back to them with a welcoming orange glow, and warm eagerness begins to replace her trepidations.

Maker, but she had missed them. It had only been just over a week, but it had felt like a lifetime. No doubt her weary husband would agree. Smiling to herself, she rounds the corner of the steps to be greeted by her boys.

Prince, the great lumbering marabi, and so-called ‘guard dog’ doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at her approach. It seems the boys had thoroughly worn the old dog out, based on his heavy snoring, that continues while Arthur marches a carved pony up the great mountain of the dog’s side, oblivious that his mother was merely a few feet away. A second pony follows, or brave knight, it seemed, as the toys continued their quest along a treacherous path of a snoring mabari’s stomach. Piled either side of Arthur, one sprawled over the dog’s paw while the other lay spread over the floor with a miniature carved dragon still in hand were her little twins, Bryan and Maxwell.

Leaning on the bannister, she spends a few silent moments savouring the sight of them, the rise and fall of her toddler’s chests and the tiny snippets of playful conversation she catches from their big, but altogether still small, brother. Arthur had blossomed in Skyhold, having more attention, more care and more adventure than any young boy could ever wish for. As she watches, he suddenly exclaims something in gibberish, then reaches over to grab a report. It’s then that she spies the sprawled line of paperwork between his play area and her desk. Ah. So, the picture wasn’t quite so perfectly innocent after all.

Time and time again he’d been told to leave the desks and paperwork alone, and yet he seemed drawn to them with an endless fascination of putting chalk and ink to paper. The smile on her lips becomes slightly crooked, it seemed little Arthur was a perfect combination of her and Cullen, free-spirited but still with a love for paperwork. In fact, she had already requisitioned a bespoke miniature desk for him so he could ‘help’ by practising his letters and doodling on paper that didn’t contain important military secrets.

All but chuckling to herself, Annabel decides to intervene, it’s only then that she realises she can, in fact, hear two distinct snores. Twisting, she spies Cullen, sprawled over the small sofa, flat on his back, with a children’s book loosely held in one drooped hand while the other wraps over his latest prized possession. Baby Rose.

The young babe, just under four months old, had nestled against her father’s chest, head resting right over the beat of his heart, and it seems that Cullen has never slept more soundly. Drawn to the tiny buddle, Annabel crouches by their side, carefully taking the ‘tale of the stubborn druffalo’ out of Cullen’s hold, making fingers twitch, ever alert, even when exhausted and lost deep in the Fade.

“Mama!!!”

The overly zealous shout wakes Cullen with a jolt, the baby griping in compliant as her pillow shifts under her, thankfully he has just enough sense to stop himself bolting upright and disturbing her completely. It had taken him hours to get her to sleep, as it had every evening that Annabel had been away, the infant finding sparse comfort against the relatively hard planes of his chest. Those trials were over now though, his bleary eyes catching sight of his radiant wife as she catches Arthur’s bear hug and squeezes him so tight he erupts in a fit of giggles.

Another snuffled complaint from Rose sounds, and he can already tell that’s it, the peace has been broken, and she begins to wail, but still, he couldn’t be happier.

“Annabel… I… What time is it?” Shuffling more upright he shushes the babe against him, but it’s no use, her tiny fists have already drawn tight as she demanded nothing less than everyone’s full attention.

Scuffing up her son’s dark mop of curls, Annabel dismisses his worry, then gestures to hold the baby, something Cullen feels rather guilty of being so relieved to see. Between the four of them, he’s not sure he’s had a moment’s peace since she’d departed, if it wasn’t Arthur trying to climb the battlement walls it was the twins squabbling, or Rose crying to be nursed. She had not been impressed by the milk Annabel had left behind. She’d thrown a tantrum at the bottle and refuse to quiet for anything but her favourite lullaby. That had made for an interesting war room meeting…

Suddenly Arthur is climbing to sit beside him, legs swinging as his brother’s take their turn at getting rather more subdued affection, rubbing puffy eyes and nuzzling against their mother’s side with loose grips around her waist.

“It’s time for bed,” she rocks the whimpering baby one-handed against her chest, the other prising that damn wooden dragon from Bryan’s grip. “Come on now.”

Cullen almost sighs in blessed relief. Oh, Maker only knows he loved his children more than anything, but taking care of four alone had proven to be the greatest challenge of his life. Of course, the other advisors and staff had helped out during the day, but every morning and night had been a battle to rise and settle them.

Slowly rising, Annabel has to wriggle her son’s hold free, and as Bryan begins to snuffle a cry, Cullen wraps him and his brother up into his arms to hold one on either hip. Arthur meanwhile has already scampered off, seemingly full of boundless energy, he proudly fetches some papers that look distinctly like the reports Cullen had spent the afternoon writing.

“Look, I helped Papa, just like you said. See,” eagerly he presents the ruined document with bright blue eyes which are the very picture of Annabel’s.

“Arthur,” Cullen’s tone verges on stern. “What did we tell you about not touching the papers on the grown up’s desks?”

Annabel raises an eyebrow and refuses to come to her son’s aid as he peers up at her.

“But it wasn’t on the desk! Honest, Prince knocked them all on the floor,” he points with a stubby finger at the hound who finally decides to wake up with a mighty yawn and little wag of his tail. “And I…” the child falters under his parent’s scrutiny, eyes eventually ending up on the floor. “…I just wanted to help. Like you said.”

Much like his mother, Arthur was impossible to stay mad at, and Cullen merely gives a resigned sigh. “Alright. Next time just check before you start helping, please.”

The boy nods and is playfully shoved forward by his mother. “Bed. Now. It’s Papa’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve got lots planned.”

“Oh, really?” Cullen raises a smirk and a questioning eyebrow, his toddlers already sleeping against him.

“Yes,” Annabel nods, hand still urging Arthur forward least he forget the task. “But all of you only get your goodies if your well behaved.” Now it’s her turn to give a playful little smirk. “Now, bed.”

The family shuffles its way downstairs, the boys bedrooms and a small play area had been built into the once wasted space beneath the Inquisitor’s chamber and had proven to make the ideal nest for the family. Provided no more surprise children came along that was.

It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, his heavy lids blinking as he watches Annabel nurse their little girl. Just how had he ended up so blessed? When Annabel places her in the cot, the babe settles without compliant, and Cullen finds himself wearing a humble smile as he continues to study his wife. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knows Annabel is curling up against his side, and the telltale nudge of her feet sneaking to slip between his for warmth pulls him back from the edge of the Fade. “I missed you…” voice croaky and broken, he plants a kiss against the top of her head, resting there to soak in the scent of her.

“I missed you too,” her finger traces circles over his heart. “All of you.”

-

Sluggishly Cullen opens his eyes to be greeted by sunlight. He hums as he rests his lids once more, he can’t remember the last time he’d woken so late or feeling so revived. The room is peaceful with nothing but a light breeze dancing across his chest, and it takes but a moment for concern to fully wake him.

Silence? That really was a worrying novelty when you had four small children.

Sitting up, he finds only crumpled sheets and a scruffy note on Annabel’s side of the bed. Blinking away the Fade, he reads it slowly through the lingering fog of sleep.

‘Thought you’d earned a rest, Birthday Boy. I’ll be with the children in the garden. Come join us when you’re ready, but don’t take too long - birthday surprises await! Annabel x

He smiles softly to himself and lays his head back on his pillow. He’d always been an early riser, but right now, ten more minutes of peace sounded perfect. He ponders briefly on just what she meant by ‘surprises’, instantly he hopes for cake, and perhaps some time for them alone, although right now he would gladly welcome languid cuddles in front of the fire. And that is the image he takes with him back into the Fade.

-

“Papa!”

Strolling in his casual wear down to the garden the shout catches Cullen’s attention along with it’s high pitched chortling. Pausing at the bottom step, he spies Annabel sat on the grass with her back to him, the twins by her feet and a dark-haired stranger holding his daughter.

“Papa, look!”

He doesn’t know the voice, but vaguely recognises the small red-haired girl it belongs to as she rushes over with flowers in her hands. When the stranger looks up from the bundle in his arms, Cullen instantly knows it’s the ill-tempered Lord. Annabel’s brother. Is that what she’d meant by surprises? He had rather hoped for something more pleasurable. Although the scowl he remembered Bryan always wearing was gone, replaced by a soft smile that makes him decide to study the Trevelyan’s for a while.

“It’s lovely Evelyn, I’m sure auntie Annabel would love to wear it.”

“No, papa I made it for you!” With innocence and joy, the little girl holds out a scruffy daisy chain, as proud as anyone had ever been.

“Don’t fret, there are plenty for everyone,” Kelandris, his wife, holds out a bunch, already wearing one herself then placing one on little Bryan and Maxwell in turn. The toddlers instantly find their new headwear fascinating, it lasts for all of thirty seconds until they steal each other’s and ruin the delicate chains in the process. They seem happy enough with the flowers though, squashing and throwing tiny petals with glee.

“Ah, I see, in that case,” Bryan tips his head down to his daughters’ level to accept his new crown before rising like a king. “Thank you, my lady.” He nods respectfully as the girl chuckles and climbs into Annabel’s lap to crown her too.

“Plenty enough for you too Commander,” Bryan’s sideways remark catches Cullen off guard. The Lord had given no indication he’d spied him, and in fact, Cullen had expected the opposite given his rather uncharacteristic antics.

Annabel twists, greeting him with a beaming smile and the girl is soon rushing to him with her pink and white daisy chain. “Uncle!”

Crouching, he meets his niece, even still she can’t quite reach his head to place the delicate flowers there, so he boosts her up. She’s very endearing as she hurries back to her mother, and it seems Cullen fits right in as he joins the mini flower festival. Sitting crossed-legged by his wife, he greets her with a fleeting kiss, Maker he had missed those lips, and as much as he might wish to indulge in them further now was not the time. Perhaps that was one of his surprises? That certainly would be much more enjoyable than the company of nobles.

“Bran! Get down from there!”

Cullen instantly knows that voice, it seems to transport him hundreds of miles and decades into the past with its reprimand, back to Honnleath, although he can hardly believe it. Whatever childish reply is made gets lost to the wind, but Mia’s certainly isn’t. “I don’t care what Arthur is doing! If he impaled himself on his blade would you do the same!?”

“Mmm, perhaps we should’ve recruited Mia as our Commander,” Annabel’s teasing quip brings a smile to Cullen’s lips.

“Aww, come on ma’am, I can take it,” Iron Bull’s telltale tenor catches Cullen attention and draws him up to his feet. Just how many people had Annabel managed to gather for his birthday? Any hopes of a lazy day of cake and cuddles were quickly fading. Although the sight of Bull carrying four children off his horns as he charges in with Mia close behind makes up for any disappointment.

Arthur drops from the Qunari with all the boldness of youth, and lands hard but is soon back on his feet, knees grazed and shirt already mud-stained. “Papa!” His joy is bright enough to light up the world as he rushes full pelt to him. “Did you see?”

Hauling him up in both his arms, Cullen swings him around on the spot, his son’s jubilation spreading a broad smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong, huh, run out of trees and walls to climb?” He scruffs up his son’s thick curls before setting him down.

Laughing, Arthur pats the wooden play sword he wears on the belt around his waist. “We challenged him to a duel, and since we won, we got to ride the bull!”

Annabel scoffs back a spluttered chortle at the phrasing which Cullen makes sure to quickly skim over. “You bested worthy opponent indeed, but can you best the Commander of the Inquisition?”

“Or the Inquisitor herself?” Leaning with her hand on one hip Annabel has gracefully perched against his side, where she belonged.

Arthur’s eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. “Yeah! Kids versus grown ups! Kids versus grown-ups!” He declares the chant at the top of his lungs as he pulls his miniature sword free, and his cousins promptly gather around him to join in the rallying cry. Between them all, they had produced quite the brood, and Cullen suddenly feels like his suggestion had perhaps been a bad idea.

“I’ve got cake!” Rosalie’s shout saves the day as she emerges with Branson carrying rolled up picnic blankets. Dropping their swords as one Bran, Julie, Arthur, William and Evelyn all rush over to the goodies, followed by two giddy toddlers who struggle on uncertain legs to catch up.

“Looks like she saved your ass there chief,” Bull mocks before beginning to absently wander towards the gathering. “Hmm, I wonder if she has those little fluffy ones with the pink frosting…”

Cullen shakes his head at the throng of his extended family. Mia naturally takes charge of seating the children while the other adults set out the brunch consisting of tea and cakes. For all the chaos, never had his heart felt so full. The laughter of his children, and his nieces and nephews bringing nourishing joy with it.

Still by his side, Annabel wraps her arm loosely around his waist to rest her head on his shoulder. It seems he would get cake and cuddles after all, but there would be nothing quiet about it. And turns out, that is just how he likes it.

-----

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, if so likes, reblogs, comments and kudos really do mean alot to us writers and help us keep going!

Can’t believe it’s over... I’ll still write Cullen fanfic, I love him too much to stop, but mostly likely just more one shots. 

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Ep - Part 4)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Just wanted to say that you guys are continuously kind people, and I appreciate every read, like, kudos, ask, comment, and reblog on this ridiculously long story! :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

Tag List: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic  @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

Indy walks ahead of him, her leash tugging him along, while Emma walks beside him, their steps matching up as their feet move over the pavement in the gardens. The dullness of the winter plants, brown and gray trees barren of leaves, are fading away and blooming into lush greens and vibrant colors. It’s still cold outside, temperatures dipping low, so he and Emma are bundled up as they take their early morning walk, something they’ve taken up together in the past few weeks.

He finds it relaxing with the simplicity of it all, and he knows that Emma feels the same. It’s a way for them both to get some exercise on days when the gym in their home goes unused as well as a way to give Indy more space to run. She’s calmed as she’s gotten a bit older, but she’s still rambunctious and would likely need acres and acres of land to roam and be completely happy with her running space. Maybe they should travel up to Norfolk and go to their country home so she has a larger backyard and he and Emma have more privacy to go out and about outside of their home without the interference of photographers and reporters aching for a picture of Emma’s stomach.

The last two months of their lives have been, quite frankly, some of the most hectic of his life. Finding out Emma is pregnant was honestly one of the best moments of his life, even if how she phrased it was a little cheeky after such an awful scare. God, when she fell on that stage, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He’d never been more terrified of anything in his entire life. Something was wrong with his wife, his best friend, and he didn’t know what it was. She was conscious the entire time, but she just wasn’t right. And the two hours between her fall and her telling him that they were having a child, well, he felt as if they’d never end.

Now he knows he was being a bit dramatic, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty instead of the blurry, faded vision that comes when you’re in the moment. Emma and the baby are just fine, growing like a weed really. She’s got the smallest of stomachs, something she woke him up and showed him just a few days ago. She was so excited, her eyes lighting up and practically sparkling under the bathroom’s lights, and sure enough, there was the slightest curve to her stomach, more physical proof that they’re having a child, not that he really needed anymore. But it was something special, and he was just as thrilled to get to see the changes in her stomach.  

And in her breasts, but that doesn’t seem to be a very fatherly thing to think. He thinks it, though, and he really appreciates the growth and how her libido has come back in full force in the past few days. That’s simply something he won’t be sharing with the child one day, but he hopes she (he’s absolutely convinced they’re having a little girl even if he can’t seem to come up with the reason why) can see how enamored he is with her mother. If not, he’s failed them both.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” he questions, reaching his hand out and twining their fingers together while they continue to walk together, nearing Liam and Abigail’s apartment.

“I think we should go on a babymoon.”

“What the bloody hell is a babymoon? I’m pretty sure that’s not a phase of the moon they taught us in primary school.”

She laughs before taking a step closer to release his hand and tuck her arm around the crook of his elbow while resting her head on his shoulder. He knows she’s being affectionate, but he also knows that she’s not willing to admit that her hands are cold because he suggested she wear gloves before they went out and she didn’t. She’s stubborn as hell, his love.

“I mean, it’s just, like, a vacation before the baby is born. The name is a ridiculous thing. I know it’s super trendy and all, but maybe we could get away for a week or a weekend before I’m not allowed to fly anymore. I think something different might be good for us. Something warm.”

“So before you’re heavily pregnant? When can you not fly? Six or seven months?”

“Yep, I was thinking next month or May. Maybe June if we don’t travel too far away.”

“Well next month is busy.” He runs through the plans he knows they have, trying to remember everything off the top of his head while attempting to get Indy to move away from the rose bushes. “We had to push back the Kidding a Goal two-year event already to May, and Liam’s fortieth birthday party is happening. I’ve also got the trip to Poland. Those are just the big things, I think. We’d also have to work around our engagements, but the middle of May would probably work.”

“We could do it for our anniversary. Just earlier.” “True,” he agrees, continuing to run through his calendar in his head while tugging at Indy’s leash again, the dog finally deciding to move on with her explorations. “Why don’t we work on it when we get home this afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me,” she sighs, nuzzling her head into his shoulder before laughing at Indy attempting to chase a bird that’s flittering between bushes

The three of them return back to their apartment twenty minutes later, Indy’s tired legs and the cool air winning out, in order to shower and get ready to drive to Hounslow for their St. Patrick’s Day activities. Emma’s stylists work on her hair and makeup while he gets ready, dressing in his Irish Guard uniform as he did for their wedding. He catches Emma looking at him in the mirror, and he throws her a wink, smiling while bobby pins are attached to her hair to keep her hat in place over her blonde curls.

This is one of his favorite events and though it’s technically Emma’s responsibility, he always joins her for this particular engagement. It’s likely because he gets to pal around and drink a Guinness with members of the Guard afterward, but he enjoys it all around. It’s relaxed and informal, despite the military aspect of it, and those are always his favorite things to do. State dinners and other diplomatic events are not usually enjoyable, but he understands he’s there for the country and his father, not himself. He can help better Britain even if he’s really there to smile and shake hands while telling a cheeky joke that would get him in loads of trouble if his father ever caught wind of it.

(He’s still eternally thankful Brennan has no idea about the joke he once made while slightly intoxicated about the size of his father’s ego having a negative effect on other parts of his anatomy. It’s not the 1600s, he has a good relationship with his dad, and he feels like he still might get beheaded for that one.)

Thomas drives them to Hounslow, and they get out of the car to go and greet the crowds outside, shaking hands and accepting gifts. Over the years he’s grown accustomed to accepting flowers and letters, the occasional handmade jar of jam after he was once pictured as a child with raspberry jam all over his face, but lately it’s been all baby gifts all of the time. They have quite the collection of baby shoes, which he doesn’t understand because infants don’t need them, but they are damn cute. And tiny, so tiny. How can a human’s feet be so small?

He’s obviously well prepared to be a father if he can’t get past the size of infant shoes.

Sure enough, he’s handed several booties and outfits, the colors ranging as everyone tries to guess if they’re having a boy or girl and bugging him as if he’s going to share the private news with everyone. He and Emma don’t even know yet. She’s not far along enough, though he has a sneaking (see: strong) suspicion they’re having a girl. Emma thinks they’re having a boy, and he’s choosing to think that he knows better.

He very rarely does.

“Thank you,” he tells everyone, handing some of the gifts, including a miniature version of his uniform, to their aides, “this is so sweet of you all. Emma and I give you all of our love.”

He finds Emma near the end of the line, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her closer while she fumbles with a few gifts too, stuffed bears and clothes along with a few flowers that are already causing some of her allergies to kick in.

“You ready to go inside, my love?”

“Yep,” he whispers in her ear as a camera flashes behind him, “we’ve got some Shamrock to hand out and beers to drink. Well, at least I get to do the second part.”

“Shut up,” Emma playfully whines, waving to people as they walk by, “you’re being rude reminding me of that.”

“Well, I do so enjoy pushing your buttons. Maybe I’ll let you kiss me later so you can taste the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should be counting yourself at getting lucky today, no matter how many four leaf clovers you find.” She kisses his jaw before pinching his cheek, and he barks out a laugh while they walk inside to get situated for the parade and the rest of their duties.

He wakes to kisses up and down his arm, soft lips and softer skin pressing into him as the haze of sleep fades away and the darkness of their bedroom comes into view. He can barely see a thing, his eyes still adjusting to the lack of light, but he can feel the heat of Emma’s body pressing into his back and sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout his body.

“W – what time is it, love?”

“A little past two.”

She kisses the back of his neck, right at his hairline, and the pressure of her breasts and her stomach pressing against him while her foot is running up and down his calves is already too much when he hasn’t been awake for more than a minute.

“Emma, love,” he grumbles when she starts inching down his back, her tongue tracing his spine, “you’ve got to give a man a moment.”

She stops then, rolling off of him and onto her back, the mattress slightly bouncing under her weight, and he groans at the lack of heat between them now. He didn’t mean for her to stop completely, but she’s obviously taken it that way. So he scoots over and kisses up her shoulder and her neck, fast flickers of his lips until he’s slanting them over hers and hovering above her.

“Hey, why’d you stop?”

“You told me to give you a moment, figured you weren’t quite ready or in the mood or something.”

She shrugs, her mused hair moving up and down as her eyes blink and her lips tick up on one side. His hand finds her face, caressing her cheek, and he smiles softly when she smiles back up at him.

“First of all,” he begins, pressing a kiss against each of her eyelids, “I am nearly always in the mood to be with my knock-out of a wife, so don’t get it in that head of yours that I’m not.” He moves to kiss behind her ear then, gently nibbling on the lobe. “Secondly, all I needed was a moment. It’s been awhile since I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night when you’ve already kept me up late.”

She laughs under her breath, the smallest, sweetest sound, before twisting her head and kissing him, slow and sweet so that he feels it in every inch of his body.

“Yeah, well, you can blame your kid for that.”

“Yes, I’ll tell her right as she’s born that she’s made mummy and daddy’s sex life slow down before she’s even born. I’m sure she’ll totally get that.”

“First of all, we still don’t know, and you are being super stubborn with the girl thing. And second of all, since we’re making points, our sex life is fine. We literally had sex three hours ago.”

“I said she’s slowing it down, not ruining it.”

“Semantics.”

“Romantic.”

“What?” She laughs, her eyes crinkling up on the sides as her smile stretches across her face. “That’s in no way romantic.”

“Oi, I think it is. Don’t you think sex is romantic?”

“I mean, obviously.” She rolls her eyes before rolling onto her side and pulling the comforter up over her. “But not in this context no. What I was doing before we got into this discussion was romantic sex.”

“That wasn’t sex.”

“It was the preface to sex, which is sometimes the best part. I was doing naughty things to you.”

“Did you just use the word naughty instead of dirty? Darling, you are officially British. Next thing you know you’re going to speaking with an accent.”

“I have an accent,” she protests, scrunching up her nose. “It’s just not the same as everyone over here, which I think makes me unique in all of the best ways.”

He rolls back over on his stomach and hooks his arm over Emma so that she can rest her chin on his forearm while he rests his on his pillow next to her head. “So do you think the babe will sound more like you or me?”

“You.” “Why?” “Because they’re going to grow up around people who sound like you. That’s what influences the accents, not necessarily just the parents. Think about it. I have an American dad and a British mom, and I have an American accent because that’s where I grew up.”

“True,” he hums, moving his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Does that bother you at all?”

“Nah, not at all. It’s like the opposite of how it was in my house growing up. It’s kind of weird when you think about how similar it is.” She tilts her head and smirks at him. “Plus, your accent is damn sexy.”

“Really now?” he purrs, inching closer to her before crawling over her and propping himself up on his forearms and knees, making sure not to press his weight down on her stomach. “You think I’m sexy?”

“I think your accent is sexy,” she corrects, her lips ticking up on one side while her hands frame his cheeks, cool fingertips inching up into her hair and tugging him down so that he can feel the heat of her breath brushing over her lips. “Would you like to get back to where I was trying to go earlier or can I cross off doing naughty things to you?”

“Whatever the first thing was, most definitely.”

He wakes later that morning while Emma slumbers on her side of the bed, hair tangled and falling down her bare back from where the comforter shifted in her sleep. He quietly gets out of bed, attempting not to wake her or Indy who must have wandered into the room while they were sleeping, and makes his way into the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on to get ready for today.

He should have woken an hour ago, but the bed was too comfortable and his body too tired, so he rushes through his morning routine, using Emma’s blow dryer to fix his hair instead of letting it dry naturally. He slips into a suit, putting on a pair of his ever-growing collection of cufflinks, before spritzing on his cologne and grabbing his already packed suitcase out of the closet, letting the wheels trail along the hardwood until he’s back in the bedroom.

Stepping over to the bed, he scratches behind Indy’s ears, the dog opening one eye to look at him before cuddling back into bed as he sits down next to Emma.

“Love,” he whispers, pushing her hair off of her forehead until her eyes flutter open, the green hazy and sleep-ridden, “I’ve got to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, leaning down and kissing her forehead, “my flight is in two hours, and Mum likes to travel early.”

Emma yawns before sitting up, pulling the comforter over her and looking every bit like the girl he met nearly eight years ago with her crazy hair and pillow creased face and complete lack of care if she looks put together or not. “Okay,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug, “but you two be safe. Call me when you land, when you come home, if anything interesting happens, if anything boring happens.”

“I know the long-distance drill, sweetheart.” He brushes his lips against hers then, feeling the softness that comes with Emma. “But it’s only two days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Ugh, I know. Two days doesn’t give me nearly enough time to have my affair.”

“You’re a cheeky little minx, so I’m sure you could figure it out.”

“Damn right.” She kisses him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He reaches down and touches her stomach, her skin warm beneath his touch. “And you, little love.” Indy barks then, walking up the bed until she’s breathing in his face. “And you, Indy girl, even if you’re not supposed to be in this bed.”

He and his mother fly to Poland that morning for a dinner the British ambassador is hosting in honor of Liam and his birthday in a few weeks time. They were given short notice on the event, and since Liam couldn’t attend, Killian and Allison agreed to attend, knowing it would be no trouble for them. The morning flies by as all of these official visits do, in a flurry of handshakes and small talk, everyone attempting to fill his head with as much information as they can. It’s been awhile since he’s done an event with his mum, something he used to do when he was younger, but they fall into a natural rhythm. His mum is an expert at things like this, using her quick wit and kind smile to make everyone comfortable, and if there’s ever been anyone he’s tried to emulate, it would be her.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” Allison compliments as they walk into the dining hall, her hand wrapped around his elbow. “We should decorate one of the rooms at home more like this. It’s more modern.”

“Well then we’d have to get rid of the ancient furniture that no one is allowed to sit on.”

She chuckles next to him as he pulls her chair out for her and waits for her to sit down before taking his own seat next to her. “You and your brother get cheekier the older you get, I swear. I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, you can’t take away our video game privileges now, mum.”

The dinner is indeed wonderful and full of Polish dishes and traditions celebrating Liam. He takes a video to send to his brother, making sure to capture the cake he knows Liam would be stuffing into his face and flipping the camera around to show the smirk on his face that he got to eat it.

Should have shown up to his own pre-birthday event.

Later that night he and his mum are driven back to their hotel, and while they have separate suites, she joins him for a cup of tea, settling down into the living room with the television playing the local news. His phone buzzes just as a segment on their visit begins, and he’s thankful for the excuse to mute the sound.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets Emma, his lips stretching into a smile as he props his feet up on the coffee table, his socks practically falling off next to his glass, “did you miss me today?”

“Obviously. However could I survive twelve hours without you?”

Her voice is dripping with disdain, and he chuckles to himself as he imagines the roll of her eyes and the absolute disinterest she has when he’s being cocky. “You could at least act a little sad.”

“I can cry if you want me to, if that would make you feel better and boost your already inflated ego.”

“So you’re just as cheeky as you were this morning then. What’d you do today, love?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she sighs, the happiness seeping through the phone speaker. “I got dressed in pajamas, took Indy out, and then we settled down in the darkness of the bedroom and watched Gilmore Girls just to relive all of that nostalgia.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Indy has a lot of nostalgia about Stars Hollow.”

“Of course she does,” Emma laughs, and he can hear the theme song playing in the background. “Ruby came over for a few hours with food from the restaurant. I may save some leftovers for you.”

“Yeah, I already know that won’t be happening.”

“Hey, I don’t eat that much! I haven’t even gained any more than regular pregnancy weight.”

“Love, you and the Gilmore Girls all have amazing metabolisms. I’ve gained more pregnancy weight than you simply because our walks aren’t quite the same as our runs.”

“I can still run, you know? Dr. Hudson said so as long as it’s just a jog and not too much.”

“I know. We’ll have to do that when I get home. Mum and I ate a lot of cake tonight.”

Emma hums, sighing into the phone. “I’m jealous. Tell Allison I said hi when you see her in the morning.” “She’s sitting with me in the room right now actually, so if you were going to talk bad about her, now probably wouldn’t be the time.”

“Damn. That’s obviously what I was about to do.”

He and Emma chat for a few more minutes, but he knows he has to let her go so as not to be rude to his mother. She’s been fiddling with her phone and watching the muted television, so he’s sure she’s regretting coming over only to be usurped by a phone call.

“Hey, darling, I’ve got to let you go, okay?”

“Okay, is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect. I’ve just been boring Mum making her listen to our conversation. I love you. I hope you, Indy, and little love have a good time binging the rest of Gilmore Girls and eating all of my food.” “We will,” she promises. “I love you, too. Bye, babe.”

He hangs up the phone, smiling at the picture of he and Emma that pops up afterward, before shutting it down and placing it on the arm of his chair. He looks up at his mother then who is softly smiling at him as if she really was listening to his conversation.

“What?” he laughs, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” she smiles, pulling her legs up underneath her and curling into the chair, “I was just thinking about how happy you are.”

His lips twitch, and he swallows the small lump of emotion in his throat. “Well, I am happy, Mum. I’m nearly always happy.”

“I know, I know,” she waves him away, tucking her long hair behind her ears, “but you’ve just been through so much and sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so lucky that you’re my baby. And now you’re having a baby, and I’m emotional about it all of the time.”

“Mum,” he softly laughs, getting up from his seat to cross the room and crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m simply a crazy old woman.”

“Well, we all know that’s not true,” he promises, guessing that it’s not the time to be making jokes. “You’re bloody brilliant and completely and totally young.”

“Thank you, Killian. It was just that I was watching how natural you are with Emma, how good you’ll both be as parents. And I guess sometimes I feel so much regret over not getting to see you both together for all of those years. You were so cheated.”

“Hey,” he soothes, running his thumb over her knuckles and ignoring the ache in his thighs from the squat, “it’s all okay. I know that a lot of it was bloody awful, but if I’m honest, I liked having those years with Emma. We got to fall in love in peace, and as wonderful as it would be for you to have gotten to know her sooner, we can’t change that. So let’s be happy, yeah?”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry, but being a mum and a grandmother, all you want is for your kids to be happy. And you feel a bit accomplished when you realize they are. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

“Well, once we get over the terror and get used to having a person’s entire life depend on us, yeah, sure, I’ll focus on the happiness.”

His mum releases his hand to stroke his forehead, pushing the hair back. “You two are going to be wonderful, and your baby is going to be the most beautiful little thing.” “Can you say that again for me to send to Liam and Abigail? I’d like to have it on record for bragging rights for the rest of eternity.”

His mother winks at him, smiling before leaning back in her chair and asking him what movie he wants to watch. It’s been a long time since he simply spent time with his mum with no one else, so he savors it, laughing with her and talking about anything she wants until she decides to go to bed in her room next door.

The following day is full of engagements, but the two of them manage to slip away to dinner and sightseeing that evening, covering themselves in the cool early April weather and hiding away from anyone who may recognize them so they can have a normal night. Overseas visits, even with all of their setbacks and frustrations, are some of his favorite things to do if only because he can sometimes slip away and be himself in a place where fewer people know him.

Of course, he managed to slip around London for a few years as well, but he’s decided that was some kind of bloody miracle.

Early Wednesday morning they board their flight and make their way home, the four-hour plane ride seemingly stretching on for double the time until they touch down on land again and he and his mother separate into their different vehicles to make their ways back to Kensington and Buckingham, respectively.

Walking in the front door, he knows Emma won’t be home as she’s at the opening of a youth theater, so he takes the opportunity to let Indy in from their garden, indulging her in her excitement over him being home, her tail wagging so furiously she could create a windstorm. After she’s calmed, he settles down into the living room and pulls up his laptop, answering emails and organizing his schedule all while watching the shows he missed.

Multi-tasking in the best way possible, really.

It’s hours later when he hears the front door open before closing and clicking into place as heels click on their hardwood floor, the sounds getting louder the nearer she gets.

“Hi,” Emma sighs when she walks into the living room, immediately walking toward him and straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs, while she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw and scrapes her fingers through his hair, “I’m so, so, so glad you’re home.”

“Hmm, me too,” he smiles before slanting his lips over hers once, twice, three times. “As much fun as I had with my mother honoring my brother, I quite prefer your company. And I was promised leftovers.”

Emma laughs against his lips as the heat of her breath washes over him and he settles into contentment. “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but those did not last.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to figure out a different way to welcome me home.”

She smirks before burying her face in his neck, her words spoken against his skin. “A foot rub would be fantastic, thanks. Those heels are a killer.”

Without his permission, not that it has ever been that way before, the first few weeks of April pass in the blink of an eye. He wants his life to slow down, for moments to pass like waves crashing into the shore, continuous and only quickly during a storm, but that’s simply not how things work.

Of course, there are times when he’d like life to speed up the slightest bit, and right now is one of those times.

He’s been sitting on the bed thumbing through his phone for twenty-seven minutes now, half of it spent reading an article about hair loss genes being passed down simply because that’s what was at the top of the page, but he’s gotten a bit bored. There’s also the fact that they’re going to be late for Emma’s doctor’s appointment if she doesn’t hurry up. She always takes longer than him to get ready, but it’s never like this, especially when they’re just hopping over to the doctor’s office and then coming back home to get ready for Liam’s birthday party tonight.

Sighing, he rolls over on the bed until he’s standing, pulling his jeans up so that they rest on his hips, and walks into the bathroom to find it empty of Emma but with clothes strewn across the floor. He tentatively steps over them, keeping himself from picking them up and throwing them in the basket, and makes his way into the closet where Emma is stretched out on the floor with her arms over her face and her jeans on but unbuttoned and unzipped.

Bloody hell, it’s a mess in here.

“Hey,” he tentatively begins, kicking at her bare feet with the tip of his boot so that she uncovers one of her eyes, “what’s happening here?”

“My jeans don’t fit. Not a single pair of them except for the ones that have yellow paint on the ass because mom decided she wanted to have a sunny yellow living room.”

“And this is surprising to you because?”

“Because last week my jeans fit, and this week they don’t. That is some kind of fucked up thing.”

“I believe that’s called pregnancy.”

Her eyes slant and every bit of joy that was remaining on her face disappears while she stares up at him like she’s five seconds away from murdering him. “I will stab you with the first earring I find if you don’t wipe that smug smirk off your face.”

He chuckles under his breath, knowing that she’ll likely do it, before squatting down and lying on the floor next to her, emulating her position. The hardwood hurts his back, but he imagines they won’t be here for long. If they are, he’ll just have to suck it up until this all important jeans situation is resolved.

“So your jeans won’t fit, love?”

“Nope. And I don’t really think I’ve gotten that much bigger. I still just kind of look like I ate too big of a meal when I’m wearing clothes. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. Obviously, I can just do the hairband trick until I buy new jeans, but I love wearing the damn things. They make me feel normal.”

“What? Wearing heels and a dress that perfectly matches your coat with a hat that was specifically dyed to match that coat and dress doesn’t make you feel normal? I never would have guessed.”

She snorts beside him while her hand finds his, and she wraps her fingers around his palm before pulling it up and brushing a kiss against his skin. “Surprisingly, no, that does not make me feel normal. That makes me feel like a barbie doll.”

“You’re not a barbie doll, love.”

She sighs next to him, but it’s really more of a huff. She’s frustrated, that much he knows, and a part of him is pretty sure that it’s not only because her jeans don’t fit. So he squeezes her hand, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts as he so often does with a touch or a glance.

“That’s just how I feel sometimes, you know? And I know that’s not how it is with you and me. But to the world it’s like I’m this girl who plays dress up and is a wife and an expectant mother and nothing else, which is fine if that’s what you want. And babe, I love that. I love being married to you and having a baby with you who I am so in love with it’s basically an obsession, but if I have to answer one more question about if I think you’re going to change a diaper or wake up in the middle of the night if the baby’s crying, which is literally what a parent does, while you stand next to me and answer a question about global relations, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“I know,” he mumbles, the weight and unfairness of her words settling into him. “I’m sorry that you’re so frustrated, and I’m sorry that some people are stuck in an old-timey world view.” He releases her hand and twists on the ground, propping his head up in his hand while looking Emma in the eye. “Why don’t you take up a patronage or two dealing with women’s rights or something similar? I know everyone was on the fence of that because they thought it was too political, but fuck that, Emma. If that’s something you want to do, you sure as hell should do it. It’s not political. It’s human, and you would be an incredible ambassador. You should do things that make you happy.”

Her eyes light up, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. The fact that we don’t have any specifically for that is bullocks when we support nearly everything. You could help so many people, and I think you’d be a bloody rockstar at it.”

“I know I would.”

“That’s the spirit,” he encourages, leaning over and brushing a kiss against her lips, letting it go a little further than either of them should when they have to be somewhere soon. “But right now we’ve got to go see if I’m going to win our bet because we’ll finally see that our little love is a girl.”

“You keep thinking that. Also, there was no bet, and if there was, I never lose.”

“Oh shit, that’s cold,” Emma gasps as Dr. Hudson applies gel to her bared stomach, her bump only sticking up the slightest bit while she wears her jeans buttoned together with a hairband, the determined lass. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”

“Most people never do,” Dr. Hudson assures them. “So all of your tests look good, everything in normal levels. Are we having any dizzy spells?”

“No,” Emma answers, her eyes focused on the screen that’ll show the baby in a few seconds, “I haven’t. And my diet and eating times are so regularly scheduled and planned thanks to the obsessed man next to me, so I’ve been feeling really good.”

Her hand finds his so much like earlier, and he clasps it between both of his hands before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “She’s been doing well, not a lot of symptoms.”

“Well, she’s in that wonderful sweet spot of the pregnancy. It usually only gets worse from here.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

Dr. Hudson laughs before focusing all of her attention back on the ultrasound, the baby’s heartbeat suddenly sounding throughout the room. God, the first time he heard it, the rhythmic beat so much calmer than his own, he nearly cried. Okay, so he might have cried, a few tears slipping from his eyes. Emma didn’t even cry until later when she came home with the picture and fell apart saying she couldn’t see the baby and felt like Rachel from Friends.

But he’s grown accustomed to the sound of their child’s heartbeat now, and as the picture pops up on the screen, she’s as clear as can be.

“So we’re looking really healthy, heartbeat is good, growth is good. And you’re eighteen weeks now, so while sometimes I can’t tell, I can tell you the gender today, if that’s what you want?”

He looks down at Emma to find her already looking up at him, a smile gracing her lips as she nods in confirmation. “We want to know.”

“Alright,” Dr. Hudson smiles, looking at the monitor one last time, “you two are the lucky parents to a boy.”

A boy.

He’s going to have a son.

Holy shit, Emma’s never going to let him live this down, but he doesn’t care at this point. They’re having a boy.

“I told you so,” Emma chuckles, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “I am never letting you live this one down.”

“I know.” He dips his head down to brush his lips against hers, squeezing her hand as tightly as possible as this begins to sink in even more. “Maybe I’ll get the next one right.”

“One human coming into the world out of my vagina at a time please.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“Just being honest,” she laughs, the sound as beautiful as the heartbeat still playing on the monitor. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And the little lad.”

“Yeah, and the little lad.”

He and Emma walk across the gardens to Liam and Abigail’s apartment, Emma’s heels clicking against the cobblestone. He already knows that she’ll be wearing his shoes on the short walk home, but she’d insisted she wear the heels for the portrait they’re taking to commemorate Liam’s fortieth birthday. It’s apparently a major milestone in life, deserving of an official portrait, and as much as he loves his brother, he thinks Liam’s a tad bit over the top.

But he and Liam differ in a lot of ways, Liam’s penchant for large celebrations and dinners with several courses while in evening wear one of those things. They were both raised this way, to expect and want dinners and parties like this, and maybe once upon a time had he never met Emma, that’s how he would celebrate all of his birthdays.

His wife, God bless her, is a fan of the simple things in life. She likes eating takeout on the couch with her feet tucked under her legs which are likely clothed in leggings that have a hole on the inside of her thigh. She enjoys sitting around watching television in the darkness of their bedroom for hours on end, sometimes an entire day (or two), and if she could, she’d probably spend the rest of her time in the garden throwing a ball for Indy to chase. For his birthday, all they did was a small dinner with friends and family, and it was perfect. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But he doesn’t mind the party Liam and Abigail are having. Everyone can enjoy what they want, and this day isn’t about him. It’s about his brother.

He and Emma step up to their front door, the towering black wood with moss looming above them, and he’s just about to knock on the door when Emma stops him with a hand on his forearm.

“What?” he laughs, turning to face her, their height difference almost gone with her heels.

“You have to be careful with how you talk about the baby. We’re keeping the sex a secret, remember?”

“Darling, I think they know we had sex. That’s not a secret.”

Her face scrunches up, and he leans down to brush a kiss against her lips before leaving a trail of kisses across her face, making her laugh under her breath.

“You’re going to make dad jokes. I already know.”

“I’ve been preparing for it with my humor for my entire life.” He grins, kissing her again simply because he can. “But I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, and I won’t mention our joyful news. As far as anyone in there knows, we know nothing.”

“That’s right Jon Snow.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her into his side before knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, “he lived in the series, so that’s totally not an insult.”

The door opens before Emma can say anything else, Liam appearing on the other side of the door in his suit. “Hey guys,” he greets, a bright smile on his face as he takes a step back, “why don’t you come on in?”

“So nice of you to invite us into your home when we were supposed to be here,” he snarks, knowing it’ll rile Liam.

“Well, I was going to say I’m glad to see you, but I’m apparently only glad to see Emma. Hello, love,” he smiles before leaning into kiss Emma on the cheek and wrap her in a hug. “How are you today?”

“Good, great really. Happy birthday, old man.”

Liam barks out a laugh before releasing Emma, clapping her on the shoulder and throwing her a wink. “Has Killian been calling me older brother, emphasis on the older, all day?”

“Surprisingly not, but that’s just because he calls you an old wanker all of the time anyways.”

“No bit of that surprises me.”

Liam embraces him then, wrapping his arms around Killian’s shoulders as Killian does the same. “Happy birthday, olderbrother. What’d you buy for your midlife crisis?”

“Saving the sportscar for the fiftieth birthday. I’m not old yet, thank you very much.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Emma laughs, walking past the both of them and down the hall where he spies Alexander and Elizabeth running between the archways.

“Are we?” Liam questions, patting him in the back before following Emma. “I don’t think anyone has ever described us that way.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

The two of them find everyone in the dining room, roaming throughout the table and the bar that’s set up through the next room. Emma’s animatedly chatting with Abigail, her hands moving all over the place while Lizzie tugs at her dress until Emma picks her up and rests her on her hip. There’s several of Liam’s old military friends as well as a few of he and Abigail’s friends who he recognizes from events over the years. Their home is packed, chatter filling his ears while he goes around greeting everyone before stopping at the bar and ordering a glass of rum.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in solidarity with your wife?”

He turns to the side and smiles down at Abigail, kissing her temple after he finishes his sip. “Hello, darling. Did Emma send you over here to tell me that?”

“No, but I remember being pregnant and my husband’s lips tasting like whiskey after a party.”

He chuckles under his breath, finding Emma talking to his parents before turning back to look at Abigail. “The only problem with that statement is that Liam drinks whiskey instead of rum. Bloody awful drink. And I’ve cut back on the coffee and tea in solidarity, thank you very much.”

“Oh well look at you Mr. Big Shot,” she jokes, squeezing his bicep. “You’re just so kind.”

“Someone is awfully sassy today, love. Is it because you’ve realized you’re married to an old man and are compensating?”

“Exactly. I’m trying to cope with his ancient age.” “That’s what I thought. I’m going to go kiss Emma so she tastes the rum since I’m just that evil.”

Abigail snorts next to him, and he leaves her with a smile before making his way to Emma and kissing her before she gets a chance to say anything. He lets his tongue flicker out so she can taste the rum, his own little private joke, but he doesn’t think she minds from the way she hums into it. His parents probably mind from the way they cough next to him, but they can wait.

“Hi,” Emma whispers when he pulls back, “did you forget we’ve got company, tiger?”

“No. I just didn’t bloody care.”

His parents laugh behind him, and he turns to greet them then, hugging his parents and asking them how they’re doing before they get called off to chat. Liam really should have held this dinner somewhere other than his home for how many people are in here, and Emma asks him to go sit in the other room, quiet surrounding them until Alex runs in and practically jumps on Emma’s stomach with all the force of his bony limbs.

“Mummy told me that you have a baby in your belly, Emmy.”

“Well, your Mummy is a smart lady because I do have a baby in my belly.”

“Wow,” Alex gasps, his eyes lighting up as he puts his hands on Emma’s stomach before looking up at her and speaking in the cutest little voice with his broken words that are constantly getting better. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Emma lies, and Killian chuckles next to her, rubbing up and down her back. “That’s going to be a surprise.”

Alex huffs and crosses his arms, obviously cross at them for not letting him know if his cousin is going to be a boy or a girl. It’s likely a good thing he wasn’t old enough to understand this all when Abigail was pregnant with Lizzie because he would have been up in arms about all of the surprises and secrets. “What’s its name?”

“We don’t know that either, buddy,” he answers to try to take some of Alex’s blame off of Emma. 

“I think you should name it Fish.”

Emma snickers next to him, biting her bottom lip to try to contain it. It’s then that he gets an idea, sticking out his stomach as far as he can and making himself look bloated. “What about me, buddy? Does Uncle Killian look like he’s having a baby?”

“Uncle Killian looks like a silly goose,” Abigail coos as she steps in the room, squatting down next to Alex, “and you look like someone who needs to go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to. It’s bedtime.”

Alex’s bottom lip starts quivering while his eyes begin to water, the meltdown imminent. Within seconds Abigail has him on her hip walking out of the ballroom and meeting Liam and Elizabeth by the doorway, the two of them walking away to put their kids to bed like some kind of well-oiled machine.

“You know, Abigail isn’t even my mother, and if she told me it was time to go to bed, I’d listen.”

Emma giggles beside him, leaning back into the couch and into him before resting her head on his shoulder. He kisses her hair while he rubs her back, knowing she’s likely tired when they’ll still be here for awhile, but it’s only a short walk home if she asks for it.

“You are a very smart man because you listen to all of the women in your life.”

“Damn right. Even Lizzie. She’s two, but she’s the boss.”

“Who’s the boss?” Brennan asks them, settling down on the couch across the coffee table from them. “Because the answer better be your mother or Emma. If not, you are lying, son.”

“Lizzie,” Emma answers for him, patting his stomach before her hand rests on his thigh, squeezing a little too high as if she’s trying to rouse him. “Lizzie is the boss.”

“Damn right,” Brennan laughs, echoing Killian’s words from a moment ago even if he didn’t hear them. “I’ve never seen a kid with such spunk.”

“Oi, I had that kind of spunk, dad. Still do.”

“Yeah, but you’re old now. I don’t remember these things.”

“Your firstborn is forty! I’m still barely in my thirties! How can you call me old? You’re the oldest person at this party.”

“And the most handsome,” Allison adds in, sitting down next to Brennan and brushing a kiss against his cheek. His parents were never affectionate before, and as happy as he is with everyone’s changes, his fifteen-year-old self is cringing watching them be that way. But it’s only in the best way, his family having felt like a family for two years now, and no part of him would trade things to go back to how they were.

Eventually dinner is served and everyone sits down at the large table, silverware clicking against plates and the laughter and chatter in the home only increasing the more people drink (except for he and Emma of course because he does abstain in solidarity sometimes). There’s several stories about Liam told, some he’d never heard before, and his stomach hurts from laughter. God, his brother was such a crack up, something he never really knew, and he wishes they’d gotten along all of those years.

But they didn’t. There was too much of an age discrepancy, too much of a difference in wants out of life, and most of all, too much hostility. He loves his brother, something that took him a long time to admit, but Liam’s not perfect. He can still be a bloody git and they still argue over some things, but he’s changed. And while there are still flashes of the day he came to this very home to confront his brother, to try to work things through only to be rejected and told that Liam’s only trying to do better for his children, he’s come to terms with it. They can’t change the past. They can’t take things away or add words left unsaid, but forgiveness even when the other person doesn’t deserve it is a powerful thing.

Or so he’s been learning over the past few years.

This is infinitely better than any life he could have lived away from his parents and his brother. And he’d have given it all up for Emma. There’s no doubt about it, and he still fully believes that. She’s worth it all. But this is better.

“Hey,” Emma whispers, rubbing between his shoulder blades before her hand finds the hair at the tape of his neck, causing shivers to run down his spine, “what are you thinking about? You’ve zoned out.”

He hums, closing his eyes before leaning over and kissing her temple, the vanilla of her shampoo invading him. “I was thinking about you.”

“Cheesy.” “Absolutely. But also the truth. I just…all of these stories about Liam, they make me realize how glad I am that we went through all of that to fix it and came out better on the other side because now I have stories to tell about him like that.” “I thought you were thinking about me.”

“Well, that came after thinking about my brother.” “That’s kind of gross.”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking about how I’m glad we’re here, but I’d still give it all up for you. And for the little love, my love.” “Well,” Emma smiles, tangling their fingers together under the table, “the good thing is that you don’t have to. We’re all a big, messy, wonderful package that you get for the rest of your life whether you like it or not.”