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hp_bunintheovenTitle: Starting Over Again
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint
Prompt: Own
Summary: A fourth child feels like starting all over again.
Word Count: 3121
Rating: PG
Warnings/Contains: Mild angst, language, surrogacy
Notes: A million thanks to my wonderful beta, S.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
“You suck!”
“I do not, you do!”
“Nuh-uh! You stink.”
“You smell like poop!”
“Do not–”
“Poop breath! Poop breath!”
Closing his eyes, Marcus sighed. It could only be a matter of seconds, he knew…
CRASH!!!
“Dad, dad! He broke it! He broke it!”
“I did not, she did!”
“Liar!”
“You’re the liar, poop breath!”
“Your children are fighting.”
Marcus’ eyes flicked over to where Oliver lay on the opposite lounge in their living room. Stretched out with his long legs crossed at the ankles on the armrest, Oliver looked incredibly comfortable. Marcus scowled. Bastard.
“You only say they’re mine when they’re fighting.”
“Of course I do.” Oliver met Marcus’ eyes with a small smile. “Any child of mine would be well-behaved, polite, peaceful–”
“Arrogant?”
Oliver’s words were cut off by a burst of laughter. “Arrogant now, am I? Don’t forget that you’re the one who married me.”
Marcus grinned. “Worst decision of my life, really.”
Oliver’s eyes widened for a few seconds before he let out another loud blast of laughter. Swinging his feet off the lounge, he sat up and brandished the newspaper he had been reading at Marcus.
“Listen here, you fuck–”
“Dad!”
Oliver’s mouth snapped shut with what sounded like a painful click of his teeth. Marcus grinned at him again as Lachlan came racing into the living room, Catriona close on his heels.
“She broke the vase in the hallway!”
“I did not!”
Marcus’ grin faded quickly. They had known going into this that having children would be challenging. What they had not expected was for the second pregnancy – using the same surrogate as they had for the first – would result in twins. Anita, their eldest, had only been three years old when the twins had been born, so they had been raising three children under the age of four. It had been an… interesting experience, to say the least.
“I swear I didn’t break it. He was running. He pushed me. He…”
Catriona trailed off with a quiet sniffle. Marcus watched as Oliver shoved himself to his feet. His knees crackled as he knelt down in front of their daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Come on, Cat, love, it’s alright.”
Catriona fell into Oliver’s arms with an exaggerated sniff. Marcus had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile at the performance. Lachlan, it seemed, did not yet have his father’s restraint.
“Oh, come on!” Standing in the doorway of the living room, he was staring at Oliver and Catriona incredulously. “You don’t believe that. All she has to do is pretend to cry and she gets her way with everything! It’s not fair!”
In Oliver’s arms, Cat gave an enormous sniffle. “I – I d-do not pretend to cry…” She took a shuddering breath. “You just… just…”
Her words trailed off as she buried her face into Oliver’s shoulder. Marcus didn’t believe a single word of what she was saying. He knew he couldn’t let on, though. Lachlan was as boisterous and loud-mouthed as he had been when he was seven years of age, and was just as likely to latch onto whatever bit of leverage Marcus would allow him. However, he knew he had to put a stop to this. Letting out a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet. Lachlan’s eyes flicked to him immediately, a hopeful look on his face. Marcus almost felt guilty for having to dash that hope. Almost.
“Alright you two, that’s more than enough. It’s almost time for bed. Up you go. We’ll deal with the broken vase tomorrow morning.”
Catriona objected, of course, to being sent to bed what she claimed to be early. Lachlan just seemed thankful that he hadn’t been punished for the vase incident yet. Closing the door to Lachlan’s room, Marcus let out a sigh and leant back against it.
The twins had always been a handful. Anita on her own had been alright, because she was just the one. Three at once, however, had been nearly enough to make Marcus swear off having any more. Nerves flashed through his stomach as he heard Oliver exiting Cat’s room.
“So…”
Marcus let out another breath. “So.”
Oliver stood just a few steps from him, his arms crossed over his chest. It was easy to see dark bags forming beneath his eyes. Working fulltime on top of looking after the three kids was difficult, but they had managed so far.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Marcus’ nerves tingled again. He hadn’t been ready the first time, nor the second. The third… He shrugged.
“Dunno.”
Oliver scoffed. “You ‘dunno’? You are forty-two years old, Flint.”
Frowning, Marcus shook his head. “So?”
“I thought that you would have been ready by now for your fourth child to arrive.”
Scrunching his face up, Marcus considered the thought. He was definitely nervous; that he could not deny. But was any parent truly ready for another child? Who knew what this one would bring? Would they be trouble, like the twins, or would they be quiet, like Anita? How many nights would Marcus spend up with them? Or would he be able to sleep through the night from the start?
“Unbelievable.”
“Huh?” Marcus watched as Oliver shook his head and moved past him down the hall, heading towards their bedroom at the end. “Oi, wait up.”
“Ten years we’ve had Ani.” Oliver opened the door to the bedroom and stepped inside, waiting for Marcus to join him before closing it. “And seven we’ve had Cat and Lachy.”
“I’m not a complete moron, Wood. I know the ages of our kids.”
Confusion roiled in him as Oliver turned and shot him a glare. He had no idea what could have brought this on and knew he probably had no chance of working it out on his own.
“You said you wanted this child.”
Oh.
Realisation dawned like a bright spark behind Marcus’ eyes. While he had been philosophising over the question of whether he thought himself ready for another child, Oliver had taken his silence as him changing his mind at the last second. How the hell he had been supposed to work that out from what Oliver had said, he had no idea. Honestly. If he had wanted to spend the rest of his life puzzling over what had put his spouse in a strop, he would have married a bloody woman.
“I do.” Marcus stopped himself from adding you dickhead to the end of the statement, but only just. “I never said I didn’t.”
“No. In fact, you didn’t say anything. You just stood there and stared at me like a–”
Oliver’s words were cut off with a mumble when Marcus placed a hand over his mouth. His eyes narrowed, but before he could move and speak again, Marcus raised his other hand in a silencing gesture.
“Don’t.” When Oliver took a deep breath, Marcus shook his head. “Just don’t, Oliver. Not tonight. I’m nervous enough as it is and having you picking fights with me isn’t helping.”
“Fine.”
Side-stepping Marcus, Oliver moved into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. The lock clicked loudly. Marcus sighed. Yanking his t-shirt off over his head and tossing it in the general direction of the washing basket, he slumped over to the bed and landed spreadeagle on it, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a long day. Tomorrow was going to be even worse, but today had been bad.
Anita was currently spending the night at Oliver’s parent’s house. She had clarinet practise right near there, so it was easier for her to just walk the block to their house afterwards rather than have to wait for either Marcus or Oliver to come collect her. Getting her ready for days like this one were always a hassle. Marcus had lost count of the amount of times he had had to show up at the school with the clarinet case because Ani had forgotten to take it with her.
Then there had been Lachy and Cat, who had had to be picked up from school at three – as usual – and delivered to Quidditch and swimming training respectively. Marcus had taken his lunch hour much later than usual in order to get them there. They had argued over who had gotten the front seat in his pickup, they had argued over who got dropped off first, then they had argued over who should be picked up first. It was exhausting. By the time Marcus had arrived back onsite, he had had just enough time to gulp down a sandwich and coffee before clocking back on.
The new baby would make things even worse, he knew. Samantha – the surrogate they had used for both the other pregnancies – wasn’t due for another two weeks, and tomorrow was the last check-up. A shiver ran through Marcus’ limbs as he considered the thought.
Two weeks. That was all it would be until they had another baby. A fourth child at forty-two years of age. The idea was daunting, but Marcus hadn’t lied: he did want this child.
They had worked hard on the nursery. It was the smallest of the bedrooms in the house, out of necessity. Painted in a pale green, it was full to the brim with toys and clothing of all colours. Their various friends and family members had been very generous when it came to stocking them up with all of their leftover baby clothing and unwanted furniture. They had honestly not had a need to buy anything.
The house had also been baby-proofed, both magically and Muggle-y. Dangerous things had been put out of reach, and wards had been placed. The kitchen now had a spot specifically for babyrelated things: bottles, bibs, teats, and all the cleaning supplies. Same with the laundry. They had a specially-designed, magically-enhanced basket that would clean the dirty nappies and any badly stained clothing. They were as prepared as they possibly could be. A sense of determination ran through Marcus as he heard the shower switch off.
Yes, he was ready for this baby. He knew it would be hard work, but it would be worth it. He had already applied for leave starting the next week, so his boss couldn’t complain. Oliver was taking time off from coaching as well. They would be doing this together, just as they had done ten years before with Ani, and seven years before with the twins. He was dragged out of his thoughts by the door to the bathroom opening and Oliver stepping into the room. Raising his head, he took in the sight before him.
Oliver stood in the doorway, completely naked. His fringe dripped water over his face and his skin glistened with the leftover moisture from the shower. Marcus let his gaze travel the length of him, his lips quirking up into an appreciative smile.
“Comfortable?”
Stretching his arms up above his head, Marcus grinned. “I could think of a few ways I could be more comfortable.”
His smile faded when Oliver rolled his eyes and turned towards the wardrobe. Forcing himself to not let out the deep sigh that he wanted to, Marcus pushed himself into a sitting position at the end of the bed. His wand vibrated on the bedside table, but he ignored it.
“Don’t tell me you’re still pissy.”
“‘Pissy’?” Coat hangers clacked together as Oliver pushed clothing aside roughly. “No, I’m not pissy. Disappointed, maybe.”
Frowning, Marcus let out a sound very close to a growl. Running his hands through his hair, he scrubbed them over his face. His wand vibrated again.
“Oliver–”
“Answer that.”
“No, it’s probably just Ani. She can wait.”
“Oh, so it’s not just the new baby, is it? It’s–”
Oliver’s words were cut off when Marcus slammed his hands onto the wooden frame of the bed. The resulting smack seemed to echo for a second before giving out to another round of vibrations from Marcus’ wand, which he continued to ignore.
“Look. I have no fucking idea what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m sick of it.”
Standing, he moved to close the wardrobe door. Oliver had managed to pull on a pair of briefs, but that was it. Spinning, Oliver narrowed his eyes as he stared up at Marcus.
“What’s gotten into me? I asked you a simple question – one simple question – and you couldn’t even answer it.”
This time, Marcus did sigh. Scrubbing his hand through his hair again, he shifted his weight.
“You didn’t give me time to answer.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Answer that message.”
He turned and tried to reopen the wardrobe again, but Marcus was too quick for him. Placing his hand on the door, he leant forward, making it impossible for Oliver to open.
“The message can wait. We’re going to settle this before tomorrow.”
“Damn it, would you just–”
Oliver spun to face him, but cut the sentence off short. Marcus watched as all the colour drained from Oliver’s face. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no sound came out. Frowning, Marcus followed the direction of Oliver’s gaze, just slightly off over his right shoulder.
“Marc…”
Marcus’ wand sat on the bedside table, still vibrating. The tip flashed a unique shade of green every few seconds; Healer green. His stomach dropped.
“Fuck.”
It could only mean one thing: Samantha – along with their unborn child – was in the hospital. The charm had been set up specially when they had confirmed with Samantha that she was in fact pregnant. It was a much faster and more convenient way to communicate than owls. Or, it was when the couple on the receiving end weren’t in the middle of a row.
Adrenalin rushed through him. His mind sped through what had to happen, from getting the twins to Oliver’s parent’s place, to collecting the bag they had made up the month before for the baby, right through to whether everything was in place, ready for the baby to come home. His nerves jumped as he began to move.
“Get dressed.”
Scooping up the t-shirt he had tossed at the dirty clothes basket, he pulled it on over his head. The baby’s bag was sitting in the bottom of the wardrobe. Turning, his hands flexed, automatically trying to release some of the tension now building inside him. Oliver stood right where Marcus had left him the minute before.
“Oliver?”
“It’s too soon.”
Marcus froze. Oliver’s eyes were unfocussed as he stared at the bedside table holding Marcus’ still-vibrating wand. Combined with the pale colour he had turned when he had spotted the wand, it sent alarm bells ringing in the back of Marcus’ mind. Moving on instinct, he closed the small gap between them, the stupid argument completely forgotten. Wrapping one arm around Oliver’s waist and placing the opposite hand gently on his cheek, he forced Oliver to look away from the bedside table.
“Ollie?”
Oliver jumped and blinked, looking like Marcus had startled him. His entire body shuddered as he took a deep breath.
“She’s gone too soon. What if–”
“Nope. No, no, no.” Marcus shook his head to emphasise what he was saying. “None of that. It’s two weeks before the due date. You know that that is within the acceptable time for the baby to arrive. The baby’s turned and Sam’s prepared.”
“But–”
“No.”
Marcus could feel Oliver trembling; could see the pulse pounding in his throat and the nervous swallows that made his Adam’s apple bob. Closing his eyes, he leant forward to rest their foreheads together.
“Everything will be fine. The twins were ten days early and look at them.” He had to smile when Oliver’s arms circled around his waist. “They’ll both be fine. Nothing has come up in any of the scans and Sam hasn’t had anything strange happen. The Healers would have told us if they had seen anything wrong before now.”
Breathing deeply, Oliver hummed. It took what felt close to a full minute before he stopped trembling. When he did, Marcus made to move away, but Oliver stopped him. Staring up into his eyes, he leant forward and placed a soft kiss on Marcus’ lips.
“Thank you.”
As Oliver stepped back, Marcus was once again overtaken by the buzz of adrenalin the wand had set off. His skin tingled in anticipation as he cast one last glance over his shoulder from the doorway before going to collect the twins. Oliver grinned at him as he grabbed the baby bag and Apparated to the hospital.
*~*
It’s a Goddamned miracle.
Marcus had had the same thought about each of their children as he held them for the first time. Tiny, helpless bundles of red-skinned, screaming miracles. Sitting on a comfortable lounge in St. Mungo’s with his brand-new son in his arms, he could only stare in wonder.
“He’s got your nose.”
Marcus scoffed. “I bloody well hope not.”
The lounge dipped as Oliver took the seat next to him. The bags beneath Oliver’s eyes were now much more pronounced, but he looked happy. Smiling, Marcus leant into the touch when Oliver slipped his arm around behind him.
“Sorry about being such a dick earlier.”
Oliver’s eyes were fixed on the tiny baby in Marcus’ arms. Marcus smiled again anyway.
“Nerves will do strange things to your head, if you let them. Besides, you’ve put up with the same from me over the years.” When Oliver made no response, Marcus returned his attention to their son. “Angus?”
“No, sounds too much like a cow. Harold?”
“You are not naming my son after Potter.”
Oliver let out a low chuckle. “His full name is Harry, not Harold. But I can see your point.”
“Finding a name we both agree on could take weeks.”
“Well, Ani went unnamed for a week and it didn’t harm her.”
They both fell silent for a few minutes, just staring down at the baby. The birth had been fine, as Marcus had predicted. Sam and the baby had both come through with no concerns from the Healers. The most pressing matter now was what to name him…
“Marc?”
Warmth spread through his chest as he met Oliver’s eyes. Oliver was the only person he allowed to shorten his name like that, and it sent a delightful shiver through him each time Oliver used it.
“Hmm?”
“We’re starting all over again.”
Biting down on his bottom lip as the baby squirmed in his arms, Marcus nodded slowly. “Yeah, we are. We can do it, though.”
Oliver’s arm tightened around Marcus’ waist for a few seconds. “Yeah, I think we can.”
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint
Prompt: Own
Summary: A fourth child feels like starting all over again.
Word Count: 3121
Rating: PG
Warnings/Contains: Mild angst, language, surrogacy
Notes: A million thanks to my wonderful beta, S.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
“You suck!”
“I do not, you do!”
“Nuh-uh! You stink.”
“You smell like poop!”
“Do not–”
“Poop breath! Poop breath!”
Closing his eyes, Marcus sighed. It could only be a matter of seconds, he knew…
CRASH!!!
“Dad, dad! He broke it! He broke it!”
“I did not, she did!”
“Liar!”
“You’re the liar, poop breath!”
“Your children are fighting.”
Marcus’ eyes flicked over to where Oliver lay on the opposite lounge in their living room. Stretched out with his long legs crossed at the ankles on the armrest, Oliver looked incredibly comfortable. Marcus scowled. Bastard.
“You only say they’re mine when they’re fighting.”
“Of course I do.” Oliver met Marcus’ eyes with a small smile. “Any child of mine would be well-behaved, polite, peaceful–”
“Arrogant?”
Oliver’s words were cut off by a burst of laughter. “Arrogant now, am I? Don’t forget that you’re the one who married me.”
Marcus grinned. “Worst decision of my life, really.”
Oliver’s eyes widened for a few seconds before he let out another loud blast of laughter. Swinging his feet off the lounge, he sat up and brandished the newspaper he had been reading at Marcus.
“Listen here, you fuck–”
“Dad!”
Oliver’s mouth snapped shut with what sounded like a painful click of his teeth. Marcus grinned at him again as Lachlan came racing into the living room, Catriona close on his heels.
“She broke the vase in the hallway!”
“I did not!”
Marcus’ grin faded quickly. They had known going into this that having children would be challenging. What they had not expected was for the second pregnancy – using the same surrogate as they had for the first – would result in twins. Anita, their eldest, had only been three years old when the twins had been born, so they had been raising three children under the age of four. It had been an… interesting experience, to say the least.
“I swear I didn’t break it. He was running. He pushed me. He…”
Catriona trailed off with a quiet sniffle. Marcus watched as Oliver shoved himself to his feet. His knees crackled as he knelt down in front of their daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Come on, Cat, love, it’s alright.”
Catriona fell into Oliver’s arms with an exaggerated sniff. Marcus had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile at the performance. Lachlan, it seemed, did not yet have his father’s restraint.
“Oh, come on!” Standing in the doorway of the living room, he was staring at Oliver and Catriona incredulously. “You don’t believe that. All she has to do is pretend to cry and she gets her way with everything! It’s not fair!”
In Oliver’s arms, Cat gave an enormous sniffle. “I – I d-do not pretend to cry…” She took a shuddering breath. “You just… just…”
Her words trailed off as she buried her face into Oliver’s shoulder. Marcus didn’t believe a single word of what she was saying. He knew he couldn’t let on, though. Lachlan was as boisterous and loud-mouthed as he had been when he was seven years of age, and was just as likely to latch onto whatever bit of leverage Marcus would allow him. However, he knew he had to put a stop to this. Letting out a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet. Lachlan’s eyes flicked to him immediately, a hopeful look on his face. Marcus almost felt guilty for having to dash that hope. Almost.
“Alright you two, that’s more than enough. It’s almost time for bed. Up you go. We’ll deal with the broken vase tomorrow morning.”
Catriona objected, of course, to being sent to bed what she claimed to be early. Lachlan just seemed thankful that he hadn’t been punished for the vase incident yet. Closing the door to Lachlan’s room, Marcus let out a sigh and leant back against it.
The twins had always been a handful. Anita on her own had been alright, because she was just the one. Three at once, however, had been nearly enough to make Marcus swear off having any more. Nerves flashed through his stomach as he heard Oliver exiting Cat’s room.
“So…”
Marcus let out another breath. “So.”
Oliver stood just a few steps from him, his arms crossed over his chest. It was easy to see dark bags forming beneath his eyes. Working fulltime on top of looking after the three kids was difficult, but they had managed so far.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Marcus’ nerves tingled again. He hadn’t been ready the first time, nor the second. The third… He shrugged.
“Dunno.”
Oliver scoffed. “You ‘dunno’? You are forty-two years old, Flint.”
Frowning, Marcus shook his head. “So?”
“I thought that you would have been ready by now for your fourth child to arrive.”
Scrunching his face up, Marcus considered the thought. He was definitely nervous; that he could not deny. But was any parent truly ready for another child? Who knew what this one would bring? Would they be trouble, like the twins, or would they be quiet, like Anita? How many nights would Marcus spend up with them? Or would he be able to sleep through the night from the start?
“Unbelievable.”
“Huh?” Marcus watched as Oliver shook his head and moved past him down the hall, heading towards their bedroom at the end. “Oi, wait up.”
“Ten years we’ve had Ani.” Oliver opened the door to the bedroom and stepped inside, waiting for Marcus to join him before closing it. “And seven we’ve had Cat and Lachy.”
“I’m not a complete moron, Wood. I know the ages of our kids.”
Confusion roiled in him as Oliver turned and shot him a glare. He had no idea what could have brought this on and knew he probably had no chance of working it out on his own.
“You said you wanted this child.”
Oh.
Realisation dawned like a bright spark behind Marcus’ eyes. While he had been philosophising over the question of whether he thought himself ready for another child, Oliver had taken his silence as him changing his mind at the last second. How the hell he had been supposed to work that out from what Oliver had said, he had no idea. Honestly. If he had wanted to spend the rest of his life puzzling over what had put his spouse in a strop, he would have married a bloody woman.
“I do.” Marcus stopped himself from adding you dickhead to the end of the statement, but only just. “I never said I didn’t.”
“No. In fact, you didn’t say anything. You just stood there and stared at me like a–”
Oliver’s words were cut off with a mumble when Marcus placed a hand over his mouth. His eyes narrowed, but before he could move and speak again, Marcus raised his other hand in a silencing gesture.
“Don’t.” When Oliver took a deep breath, Marcus shook his head. “Just don’t, Oliver. Not tonight. I’m nervous enough as it is and having you picking fights with me isn’t helping.”
“Fine.”
Side-stepping Marcus, Oliver moved into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. The lock clicked loudly. Marcus sighed. Yanking his t-shirt off over his head and tossing it in the general direction of the washing basket, he slumped over to the bed and landed spreadeagle on it, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a long day. Tomorrow was going to be even worse, but today had been bad.
Anita was currently spending the night at Oliver’s parent’s house. She had clarinet practise right near there, so it was easier for her to just walk the block to their house afterwards rather than have to wait for either Marcus or Oliver to come collect her. Getting her ready for days like this one were always a hassle. Marcus had lost count of the amount of times he had had to show up at the school with the clarinet case because Ani had forgotten to take it with her.
Then there had been Lachy and Cat, who had had to be picked up from school at three – as usual – and delivered to Quidditch and swimming training respectively. Marcus had taken his lunch hour much later than usual in order to get them there. They had argued over who had gotten the front seat in his pickup, they had argued over who got dropped off first, then they had argued over who should be picked up first. It was exhausting. By the time Marcus had arrived back onsite, he had had just enough time to gulp down a sandwich and coffee before clocking back on.
The new baby would make things even worse, he knew. Samantha – the surrogate they had used for both the other pregnancies – wasn’t due for another two weeks, and tomorrow was the last check-up. A shiver ran through Marcus’ limbs as he considered the thought.
Two weeks. That was all it would be until they had another baby. A fourth child at forty-two years of age. The idea was daunting, but Marcus hadn’t lied: he did want this child.
They had worked hard on the nursery. It was the smallest of the bedrooms in the house, out of necessity. Painted in a pale green, it was full to the brim with toys and clothing of all colours. Their various friends and family members had been very generous when it came to stocking them up with all of their leftover baby clothing and unwanted furniture. They had honestly not had a need to buy anything.
The house had also been baby-proofed, both magically and Muggle-y. Dangerous things had been put out of reach, and wards had been placed. The kitchen now had a spot specifically for babyrelated things: bottles, bibs, teats, and all the cleaning supplies. Same with the laundry. They had a specially-designed, magically-enhanced basket that would clean the dirty nappies and any badly stained clothing. They were as prepared as they possibly could be. A sense of determination ran through Marcus as he heard the shower switch off.
Yes, he was ready for this baby. He knew it would be hard work, but it would be worth it. He had already applied for leave starting the next week, so his boss couldn’t complain. Oliver was taking time off from coaching as well. They would be doing this together, just as they had done ten years before with Ani, and seven years before with the twins. He was dragged out of his thoughts by the door to the bathroom opening and Oliver stepping into the room. Raising his head, he took in the sight before him.
Oliver stood in the doorway, completely naked. His fringe dripped water over his face and his skin glistened with the leftover moisture from the shower. Marcus let his gaze travel the length of him, his lips quirking up into an appreciative smile.
“Comfortable?”
Stretching his arms up above his head, Marcus grinned. “I could think of a few ways I could be more comfortable.”
His smile faded when Oliver rolled his eyes and turned towards the wardrobe. Forcing himself to not let out the deep sigh that he wanted to, Marcus pushed himself into a sitting position at the end of the bed. His wand vibrated on the bedside table, but he ignored it.
“Don’t tell me you’re still pissy.”
“‘Pissy’?” Coat hangers clacked together as Oliver pushed clothing aside roughly. “No, I’m not pissy. Disappointed, maybe.”
Frowning, Marcus let out a sound very close to a growl. Running his hands through his hair, he scrubbed them over his face. His wand vibrated again.
“Oliver–”
“Answer that.”
“No, it’s probably just Ani. She can wait.”
“Oh, so it’s not just the new baby, is it? It’s–”
Oliver’s words were cut off when Marcus slammed his hands onto the wooden frame of the bed. The resulting smack seemed to echo for a second before giving out to another round of vibrations from Marcus’ wand, which he continued to ignore.
“Look. I have no fucking idea what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m sick of it.”
Standing, he moved to close the wardrobe door. Oliver had managed to pull on a pair of briefs, but that was it. Spinning, Oliver narrowed his eyes as he stared up at Marcus.
“What’s gotten into me? I asked you a simple question – one simple question – and you couldn’t even answer it.”
This time, Marcus did sigh. Scrubbing his hand through his hair again, he shifted his weight.
“You didn’t give me time to answer.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Answer that message.”
He turned and tried to reopen the wardrobe again, but Marcus was too quick for him. Placing his hand on the door, he leant forward, making it impossible for Oliver to open.
“The message can wait. We’re going to settle this before tomorrow.”
“Damn it, would you just–”
Oliver spun to face him, but cut the sentence off short. Marcus watched as all the colour drained from Oliver’s face. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no sound came out. Frowning, Marcus followed the direction of Oliver’s gaze, just slightly off over his right shoulder.
“Marc…”
Marcus’ wand sat on the bedside table, still vibrating. The tip flashed a unique shade of green every few seconds; Healer green. His stomach dropped.
“Fuck.”
It could only mean one thing: Samantha – along with their unborn child – was in the hospital. The charm had been set up specially when they had confirmed with Samantha that she was in fact pregnant. It was a much faster and more convenient way to communicate than owls. Or, it was when the couple on the receiving end weren’t in the middle of a row.
Adrenalin rushed through him. His mind sped through what had to happen, from getting the twins to Oliver’s parent’s place, to collecting the bag they had made up the month before for the baby, right through to whether everything was in place, ready for the baby to come home. His nerves jumped as he began to move.
“Get dressed.”
Scooping up the t-shirt he had tossed at the dirty clothes basket, he pulled it on over his head. The baby’s bag was sitting in the bottom of the wardrobe. Turning, his hands flexed, automatically trying to release some of the tension now building inside him. Oliver stood right where Marcus had left him the minute before.
“Oliver?”
“It’s too soon.”
Marcus froze. Oliver’s eyes were unfocussed as he stared at the bedside table holding Marcus’ still-vibrating wand. Combined with the pale colour he had turned when he had spotted the wand, it sent alarm bells ringing in the back of Marcus’ mind. Moving on instinct, he closed the small gap between them, the stupid argument completely forgotten. Wrapping one arm around Oliver’s waist and placing the opposite hand gently on his cheek, he forced Oliver to look away from the bedside table.
“Ollie?”
Oliver jumped and blinked, looking like Marcus had startled him. His entire body shuddered as he took a deep breath.
“She’s gone too soon. What if–”
“Nope. No, no, no.” Marcus shook his head to emphasise what he was saying. “None of that. It’s two weeks before the due date. You know that that is within the acceptable time for the baby to arrive. The baby’s turned and Sam’s prepared.”
“But–”
“No.”
Marcus could feel Oliver trembling; could see the pulse pounding in his throat and the nervous swallows that made his Adam’s apple bob. Closing his eyes, he leant forward to rest their foreheads together.
“Everything will be fine. The twins were ten days early and look at them.” He had to smile when Oliver’s arms circled around his waist. “They’ll both be fine. Nothing has come up in any of the scans and Sam hasn’t had anything strange happen. The Healers would have told us if they had seen anything wrong before now.”
Breathing deeply, Oliver hummed. It took what felt close to a full minute before he stopped trembling. When he did, Marcus made to move away, but Oliver stopped him. Staring up into his eyes, he leant forward and placed a soft kiss on Marcus’ lips.
“Thank you.”
As Oliver stepped back, Marcus was once again overtaken by the buzz of adrenalin the wand had set off. His skin tingled in anticipation as he cast one last glance over his shoulder from the doorway before going to collect the twins. Oliver grinned at him as he grabbed the baby bag and Apparated to the hospital.
It’s a Goddamned miracle.
Marcus had had the same thought about each of their children as he held them for the first time. Tiny, helpless bundles of red-skinned, screaming miracles. Sitting on a comfortable lounge in St. Mungo’s with his brand-new son in his arms, he could only stare in wonder.
“He’s got your nose.”
Marcus scoffed. “I bloody well hope not.”
The lounge dipped as Oliver took the seat next to him. The bags beneath Oliver’s eyes were now much more pronounced, but he looked happy. Smiling, Marcus leant into the touch when Oliver slipped his arm around behind him.
“Sorry about being such a dick earlier.”
Oliver’s eyes were fixed on the tiny baby in Marcus’ arms. Marcus smiled again anyway.
“Nerves will do strange things to your head, if you let them. Besides, you’ve put up with the same from me over the years.” When Oliver made no response, Marcus returned his attention to their son. “Angus?”
“No, sounds too much like a cow. Harold?”
“You are not naming my son after Potter.”
Oliver let out a low chuckle. “His full name is Harry, not Harold. But I can see your point.”
“Finding a name we both agree on could take weeks.”
“Well, Ani went unnamed for a week and it didn’t harm her.”
They both fell silent for a few minutes, just staring down at the baby. The birth had been fine, as Marcus had predicted. Sam and the baby had both come through with no concerns from the Healers. The most pressing matter now was what to name him…
“Marc?”
Warmth spread through his chest as he met Oliver’s eyes. Oliver was the only person he allowed to shorten his name like that, and it sent a delightful shiver through him each time Oliver used it.
“Hmm?”
“We’re starting all over again.”
Biting down on his bottom lip as the baby squirmed in his arms, Marcus nodded slowly. “Yeah, we are. We can do it, though.”
Oliver’s arm tightened around Marcus’ waist for a few seconds. “Yeah, I think we can.”
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Date: 2019-04-08 09:51 pm (UTC)i loved the humor in this, especially the twins and the “Angus?”
“No, sounds too much like a cow. Harold?”
“You are not naming my son after Potter.” exchange.
i loved the tension and worries about having another child and the reassurance from oliver. i loved oliver being the one to freeze up once the baby was actually coming and marcus having to pull him out of it. and the vibrating wand call was so clever!
such a wonderful story.
♡
no subject
Date: 2019-04-09 09:57 am (UTC)I was so disappointed when I realised that Angus was a type of cow. I love the name and now couldn't name anything Angus seriously without thinking about cows. XD
I'm so happy you liked it! :)