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Type hummed a distracted nod as he reached for his phone. It had gone off earlier, a text. "I'm gonna be picking up and dropping off." He confirmed checking the notification.
"Is that Tharn?" Techno asked intuitively.
Type nodded, Tharn was saying he was on his way. Type, returning the favor, quickly let Tharn know that he and Techno were also currently en route.
"Yeah, he'll be there in fifteen minutes or so." Type relayed.
"Shit dude, give me that." Techno carped, snatching Type's phone from his hand. "You're fucking driving."
"It's a long red." Type sighed. “You know this light. It takes forever.” Techno was easily the most doting when it came to Type or the baby's safety. It was cute, at times annoying, but overall very much appreciated. Even if Type would never admit such a thing out loud.
"That's where it starts you fucking asshole." Techno grumped.
Type shushed him quickly. "Hey, hey." He covered his stomach protectively. "Little ears dude, shut up."
Techno seized up for a second before he hit his mouth in personal reprimand and looked at Type's phone to distract himself.
"He's asking if you want help with unloading when we're done." Techno informed.
Type shook his head. "No. I have you and Champ.” He said as a matter of fact. “It's bad enough he already knows where we live. I don't want his help."
"Ah yes." Techno smirked at Type's reminder. "Because he took you home, like a true gentleman, after your first--"
"It was not a date!" Type cut him off, hands tightening around the steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the road. "I already told you, we just met up to talk about things. Important custody things and parental rights. We exchanged lawyer information. It was all very formal. Like a big meeting."
"Uh huh. Yeah." Techno nodded. "That's why it took place at that fancy restaurant downtown and not, I don't know, in one of the half a million office rooms that he owns."
Type growled and focused on driving. "It was closer to my work."
"Yes, as you’ve said before, but uh, where do you work again?" Techno asked rhetorically, and Type wanted to punch his friend in the face. "That's right, at an office, on a university campus you both attend. Which also has a million empty meeting rooms that you two could have used."
"I wasn't gonna stay behind after I clocked out for the day. That's-- no." Type shook his head.
"So a completely necessary four star restaurant," Techno continued, "and a nice big meal that who paid for?"
"He insisted!" Type argued.
"Then he escorted you home when it was over, even going so far as to wish you a goodnight when he walked you to your door." Techno smiled. "Totally not a date."
"No good, eavesdropping douchebags.” Type grumbled. “What you and Champ were even doing at my place is beyond me still." Type grumbled.
They had come over that fateful night, unannounced, to celebrate the completion of baby proofing Type’s entire apartment, and had, unfortunately, heard everything that happened outside Type's apartment door. They, of course, being the shit (best) friends that they were, immediately started interrogating Type with a million questions asking who Tharn was and when Type had started dating again.
"Oh by the way, Tharn says 'great' and that he’s ‘happy to help’ with the heavy lifting and stuff." Techno piped up.
"What?" Type quickly looked over at his friend before concentrating on the road again. "But I said no!"
"Yeah, but I have your phone." Techno smiled. "So you said yes. He's coming over when we're done shopping."
Type groaned. "Why? I don't need or want his fucking help."
Techno then gasped very dramatically moving both hands on either side of Type's baby bump as if covering the baby's ears. "Mommy didn't mean it sweetheart, he's just a little upset right now."
"Yeah?" Type hit Techno, "who's fault is that?"
"Oy!" Techno sat back and rubbed his head. "Blame Tharn! He's the one selflessly offering his services to help you because he's genuinely interested in the life of his future child. What a monster."
Type shifted. "I never said he was a monster."
"Just undate-able, apparently." Techno countered.
"Exactly.” Type nodded.
Techno sighed and shook his head at his stubborn friend. "If you're not gonna date him, at least take advantage of the all the muscles he's throwing at you, fuck." Type ignored him as he went to reach for his own phone which was going off in his pocket. He checked caller I.D. as soon as it was out.
“Champ.” Techno informed aloud.
Type only nodded and kept driving.
“Hey man, you ready?” Techno greeted. There was silence in the car as he listened to the voice on the other end. “What the f-- heck are you talking about? We’re on our way right now.” Another pause. “Dude! Your place! We need your truck! We’ve been talking about this all week.” Techno laughed but partway in frustration.
“What?” Type gave a quick look, “he’s not ready?”
“Yes that's today!” Techno moved the receiver end away from his mouth as he addressed Type. “He forgot, the fuc-- stupid idiot. He’s getting ready now.”
“So do I go, or do we wait?” Type asked, “Or maybe just head to the store first? Give me my phone, I’m calling Tharn.”
Techno instantly shoved Type’s phone in the glove box and held it closed with his hand. “Just keep going, he’ll be ready when we get there.” Techno bit that last part out into the receiver end for Champ to hear. He waited a beat. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
“More like ten.” Type shook his head.
“Yeah soon.” Techno agreed. “Okay, okay.” He nodded and let Champ talk. “See you then.” He said before hanging up. “We’re good.”
“We’re good?” Type verified.
“He’s fine,” Techno nodded, rolling his eyes. “He’s just an idiot.”
Type scoffed.“Something you two have in common.”
“Hey! At least I remembered.” Techno defended. Then he jumped when the radio suddenly turned itself on. “Holy fuck!” He screeched as his hands went to cover his poor unsuspecting ears. The sheer volume of the song pulsed the base right through Techno's heart.
“Shit sorry,” Type also flinched under the loud, unexpected sound and quickly moved to turn down the volume. “It’s my phone, it’s connected to the car.” He edified his startled friend.
Techno nodded, hand to heart, as Type answered the call.
“What?” Type said immediately.
“Ow,” Tharn’s voice came through the speakers, filling the whole car. “Why so upset? I haven’t even done anything.”
“I’m not upset,” Type countered, “What is it?”
“I just called to tell you that I made it, and I’m inside now.” Tharn informed. “I’m going through the list, as promised, but I wanted to remind you of that deal we made.”
Type’s eyes widened, he didn’t think Tharn was being serious. “Asshole! I never agreed to that!”
Techno gasped and covered baby again. “Wait, what deal?”
“Oh, Techno,” Tharn sounded surprised. “Are you guys still driving?”
“We’re almost at Champ’s place,” Techno happily answered, “we’ll be heading your way soon.”
“Not soon enough, it seems.” Tharn sounded extremely pleased. “Right Type?”
“Tharn you better not.” Type warned. “I agreed on half. Half and that’s it.”
“What’s the deal?” Techno asked again, excited by Type’s nervousness, “What are you talking about?”
“Well you already know that Type wont let me pay for basically anything, right?” Tharn started.
Type groaned but didn’t otherwise protest as his best friend sat back and nodded. “Right, sure.”
“Well I finally got him to agree to let me pay for half of the bill anytime you guys go shopping for the baby.” Tharn sounded ecstatic.
“Okay.” Techno followed along.
“But this week, since you’re getting the bigger items like the crib, the strollers, and the changing station, and Type needs time to go get Champ’s truck to carry all that stuff, we made a deal--”
“We did not, I never agreed to this.” Type griped.
“We made a deal,” Tharn insisted, “That if I got all the stuff on the list before Type arrived in time to help pay, that I would pay for everything and Type would have to accept.”
“Oh, I see,” Techno smirked, turning to Type. “That’s why you wanted Champ to meet us there in the first place.”
“It’s a stupid rule,” Type spoke up, “that I never agreed to.”
“Well while you guys are still getting the truck, I just found the first item on the list.” Tharn bragged. “One baby stroller, check.”
“I’m gonna kill you.” Type growled.
“Have to get here first,” Tharn hummed. “Oh! And you better hurry, I think I see the cribs over--”
Type hung up quickly. “Rich, pompous jerk.”
Techno was laughing as he looked out the window. “He’s got your number hard.”
“Who’s side are you on here?” Type questioned.
“The baby’s, obviously.” Techno was still beaming, “Best uncle ever, and Ai’Champ can suck it.”
“What, so I’m not on my baby’s side?” Type countered, slowing down as he turned onto Champ’s street and prepared to park curbside.
“Tharn’s not either?" Techno rebuffed.
Type glared at his friend but said nothing of it. “Alright shut up, we’re here.” Techno was already leaving the car, laughing as he called for Champ. “Hey asshole, at least wait till I park! You're setting a bad example for the-- oh fuck it.” He held his stomach, “Mommy better not catch you doing that baby, bad uncle Techno.”
Type parked the car making sure to leave enough room for the truck to pass before he killed the engine, grabbed his stuff and got out. He let himself in the familiar house and went straight to the garage where he met up with Techno and Champ who were already waiting for him.
“...said that he’d pay for everything!” Techno giggled.
Champ smirked. “Really? Is that so?” He looked over at Type.
“I never agreed to anything.” He gruffed getting in the passenger’s seat.
Champ took driver’s and Techno hopped in the back. “I’m sure you didn’t.” Champ shrugged as he turned the engine. “But that’s not gonna stop Tharn from doing it anyway.”
Type groaned and covered his face. "I know." He looked at the time. "Which is why we have to hurry up before that bastard finishes the list."
"We'll get there, don't worry." Champ smiled easily.
///
They didn't.
By the time Champ parked and Type ran in, trailing his friends behind him, Tharn was waiting for his receipt at register eight.
He caught sight of Type as he was putting away his wallet and gave a shit eating grin, even dared to wave a little.
Type blinked his disappointment away, turning his agape mouth into a scowl.
Tharn thanked the young woman at the register when he was done and strolled over to Type, pushing the mountainous cart of stuff over to him, happiness rolling off of him in waves.
"Darling, you made it." Tharn was overtly satisfied.
"Fuck off." Type griped.
Tharn chuckled as he nudged Type's shoulder. "Help me take this out to the car?"
Type just scoffed and immediately left, walking towards the opposite exit that Tharn was going towards. Rolling his eyes when he spotted Techno and Champ walk in as he began making his way out.
"You're the best!"
Type flinched as he heard Tharn call out.
"Ai'Tharn!" Techno waved past Type, to the man behind him and ran to catch up.
Champ followed at his normal pace, giving a sympathetic shrug as he came to walk beside Type. "Sorry man." He turned a begrudged Type back around so that they were now following Tharn and Techno out of the store.
"Yeah, don't act like you didn't want this to happen." Type snapped. "You might not be as loud about it as Techno but you're on Tharn's side too."
"I just like the guy." Champ shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with getting some extra help every now and then. Especially since he's the father."
"First of all, I'm the one and only father, Tharn is obsolete. Second, what's wrong isn't the help, it's who the help is coming from." Type pointed out. "I had no qualms when you invited your friend, Puifai, over to girl-up my place."
"She organized it." Champ snickered. "And she did a really good job. Her tips on baby proofing worked too."
"Yeah exactly." Type agreed. "She helped out, and I was fine. There wasn't any--" Type cut himself off as a powerful wave of nausea flooded his system the second he caught a whiff of seafood. He shuddered out a disgusted groan and froze all movement.
He held his stomach as he looked around them, that awful smell filled his nostrils every passing moment. It was so bad Type could feel it's repugnant aroma frying his brain. Where was it? Where was it? He frantically searched the people milling about them. The draft was coming from somewhere close, it was too strong. Someone in the vicinity just opened something fishy and baby did not like it.
"Type?" Champ kept Type moving with a hand around his waist while Type desperately searched for the origin of his demise.
Then he saw it.
He had intuition enough to hold his breath as they walked by a free sample stand offering sushi rolls near the exit.
Type shuddered through the next swell of nausea induced by just the sight of what was once his second favorite cuisine. Luckily, it seemed like the baby didn't mind spicy foods, so he was safe with that at least.
"Take me away, please." Type airily bit out. "The fish. I can't-- I'm gonna-- throw up." The need to breathe as he spoke only worsened his condition, he practically gagged the last words out and that had Champ moving instantly.
"Okay, okay." Champ turned them away, moving Type to his other side, putting himself between Type and the stall. He held his friends hand and kept an arm around his waist as he guided them out of there. "Alright we're moving Type, just breathe. Please, please don't throw up. And if you do, make sure to face away from me."
Type groaned as he leaned heavily against Champ. "Fuck you."
"Thanks buddy." Champ nodded, he figured it was fair. "We're going to the scented candles aisle now. Will that help, or make it worse?"
"No, no. It helps, it helps." Type insisted. "Anything to get that, ugh," he shuddered, "that smell away from me."
"Okay, good. Alright." Champ nodded.
He hurried Type over as fast as speed walking would allow, they made it to the, thankfully far, needed aisle in less than two minutes. The first thing Type did was roughly grab a huge candle from the shelf and shove his face directly against the hardened wax.
He breathed deeply, like his life depended on it.
"Oh fuck." Type breathed out. The scent was horrible. Something stale, and flowery, and old lady-ish about it, but fuck was it a massive improvement to the smell of raw fish.
"Better?" Champ patted Type's shoulder pensively.
Type took a second deep breath and grimaced at the dead flowers that filled him up. He nodded with the comically large candle still against his face. "Better." He strained.
"Great."
Just then Champ's phone went off, he quickly answered. "Hey sorry, we had to take a quick detour. We're still in the store."
"Ugh this is shit." Type complained as he inhaled it for the third time. He looked down at his appeased stomach, “Baby, why?” He breathed it in again and groaned. It really was shit.
"Then pick another scent you idiot." Champ reprimanded. "What? No not you, I'm talking to Type. Did you guys make it to my car?"
When the air around Type's brain lifted enough for him to stand and walk on his own without the impending urge to gag sitting right at his throat, he set the large candle down and sifted through the shelves for something more to his taste.
He picked up a pine and teakwood labeled candle and gave it the old college try.
As soon as he had, however, he recoiled. Type could almost taste the strong smell on his tongue the second he sniffed it. It burned his nose and he had to close his eyes while he breathed normal air for a second before he was okay again. It wasn't that bad smelling, it was just a lot. Like this candle just straight up punched him in the face, and he didn't appreciate that. He set it back down and moved on.
"You almost done?" Champ called when Type kneeled down by the lower shelves for more candle options.
"Can you fuck off?" Type snapped as he read the labels of these new candles. "I almost threw up just now, which was a very unfun and stressful experience that, at this point, might still be a viable option for me, so let me get a candle."
"Alright, alright. Geez." Champ sighed. "He's picking out a candle." He informed whomever was on the other end. Most likely Techno. "Yeah like one of those home scented ones. The ones that you burn for decoration." He explained. "You don't want to know." A pause. "Techno says to get him something pretty-- well shit." Champ turned back only to find Type sitting criss cross on the floor with like nine different candles surrounding his person and at least five more in his arms. All varying in different colors, shapes, and sizes. “How did that happen so fast?”
Type's pleased smile dropped at Champ's words and he glared up at his friend. "Stop judging me, I deserve this."
"Hey, do what you need to do." Champ shrugged. "I'm just not helping you clean up."
"Fine." Type agreed, going back to his candles.
"This might take a minute." Champ informed Techno. "Are you almost done loading up?" He waited for the answer. "Yeah, just lock it up or wait there. Whatever’s good for you." Another pause. "If Tharn wants to come, tell him we'll be in the candle aisle."
"Oh fuck."
Type's voice had Champ turning back to him. It sounded just as weak as it had a second ago. "Type?"
"Champ," he reached up for his friend, setting the candle in his hands down on the shelf. It was an oddly deep red color. "Strawberries."
"Oh shit!" Champ instantly hung up and moved to raise Type from the floor.
He knew no amount of replacing the smell of strawberries would help. Type shuddered against Champ as they moved out of the aisle, to the nearest restroom. No matter what, above all else, number one in the “Do Not Let Type Near This” handbook was strawberries. He threw up everytime. No matter how weak the scent or how separated from the offending fruit he was, as soon as he smelt strawberries, it was only a matter of time.
"We're not gonna--" Type clamped a hand over his mouth as he gagged.
"Yes we are." Champ insisted. "There, there! I see the sign for the restroom. Just hold on!"
Champ all but carried Type to the restroom and they barely made it. The second they were through the door, Type burst through the available stall and threw himself at the toilet, instantly emptying the contents of his stomach into the porcelain.
Champ sighed in both relief and sympathy for his friend. He reached a hand and pat Type's back. "Told you we'd make it." He offered helpfully as he walked away to pull some paper towels from the dispenser.
He looked around the bathroom finding it to be like one of those gas station setups with only two urinals and a single stall. Which also meant...Champ turned around and locked the door, glad to at least have this privacy for Type.
He moved to the sink as another surge crashed through Type and he threw up again. Champ dampened the napkins and handed half of them to his sick friend after he was finished flushing. The other half he went back and spread soap over.
"Sorry." Type’s voice was weak.
"It's not your fault." Champ returned to the stall, leaning over Type to clean the rim of the toilet and around the sides. "Don't apologize." He trashed the used napkins, and left again to wash his hands.
Type spit the access bile into the bowl and cleaned his face. "Thanks, Champ." He nodded earnestly. Glad his friend was out of the stall, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
"Anytime buddy." Champ answered. Once his hands were dry enough, he shifted, pulling out his phone. "I'm gonna call them. Let them know what happened."
Type didn't say anything, wanting to protest, but knowing they needed to know anyway. He was still huddled over the rim, the vile feeling in his stomach diminished but not gone.
"Hey can one of you come back in?” Champ asked. “Make sure to bring Type's bag, it should be on the passenger seat, or around there somewhere." He waited. "Yeah, it happened." He sighed heavily. "No, no. We made it in time. We're just waiting it out." A pause. "Just the nearest restrooms to the candle aisle, I don't know. I think we passed the decorative furniture section on the way."
Type nodded, though he knew Champ couldn't see him. He did vaguely remember seeing something like a blue couch while he was trying not to puke as Champ dragged him over here.
"Uh, the fruit that shall not be named." Champ said cleverly. "At first it was the sample stall by the door, did you not see it?" He asked. "No, of course you forgot. Because you hate our friend. That's why I'm the best uncle."
Type nodded again. After this, Champ wins best uncle forever. He couldn't concentrate on the full congratulations however, when another rush of nausea rolled over. "Shit," he groaned right before it ripped through him again and he threw up a third time. Fuck, strawberries were just the fucking worst weren't they? Type didn't think he'd ever go back to the fruit even after the pregnancy. Too many vomit memories.
"Just get here as fast you can, okay?" Then Champ was hanging up again. He knocked softly on the stall before he moved to grab more paper towels. "They're on their way." He said.
Type groaned as he flushed and pinched his eyes shut, concentrating on his breathing and not on the feeling that was still simmering at the pit of his stomach. "Both?"
"I think so." Champ guessed. "They're bringing your stuff, so we'll be out of here in no time."
Type had an emergency bag that he took out with him everywhere that he liked to call his baby bag. It held absolutely everything he needed that related to his baby habits. Like snacks to satisfy both his constant hunger and unusual cravings, a really thick blanket that he used whenever he randomly got cold in the middle of the day, medicine in case something like this ever happened while he was out of the house, among other things. It was a really essential bag.
"Okay." Type nodded as he breathed, letting the information comfort him at least. It helped a little to distract from how sick he still felt. "Oh, I hate this." He groaned past another phase.
"I know, and it sucks ass that you have to go through it," Champ nodded. He moved to rub his friends shoulders. "But you're not alone, man."
Type didn't acknowledge him or say anything. He just silently agreed with Champ as he fought through the sickness still bubbling within him.
When he felt okay enough a few good minutes after his last incident, Type sat back, leaning against the wall, keeping his eyes closed and his hands around his protruding stomach. Champ was still up, leaning against the open doorway of Type's stall while they both just waited for the cavalry.
It didn't take long, but Type was back to curling over the toilet as he retched into the bowl when Champ had to go unlock the door for Tharn and Techno.
"Shit." Techno cussed, handing the bag over to Champ. "We passed by the aisle, saw Type's candles on the floor. How bad was it?"
"That was just the sushi." Champ sighed. "It took him a few candles to calm down from that." Tharn said nothing as he collected the bag and slipped passed the friends, going straight for Type. "Then while I was talking to you, he accidentally found a strawberry scented one and I had to rush him in here."
Champ reached over Techno's shoulder as he finished, relocking the door.
Techno shook his head. "We didn't even realize you two were gone until…"
The two friends continued to converse by the sink while Tharn knelt beside Type.
"Hey baby, how are you?" Tharn frowned in sympathy as Type groaned out his response. "That good, huh?" He began rubbing a comforting hand up and down Type's back. The boy nodded as he spit the access and flushed. "Tell me what you need, Type." He pulled the bag towards them and opened it. "How 'bout some water, huh? Get you hydrated?"
Type shook his head rapidly. "Wait." He strained. "Not over."
Tharn moved to hold Type's hand while the boy leaned over the bowl, waiting for the nausea to subside. He continued to rub Type's back in silent support.
After a few tense moments of Type waiting for his body to either go again or calm down, he sat back on his knees.
"Okay."
"Is it over?" Tharn asked hopefully.
"For now." Type nodded.
Tharn pulled out the illegal water bottle, technically there were no outside food or drinks allowed in the store, and handed it to Type. Who first used it to help spit anything left behind out of his mouth. After flushing that down, he drank greedy gulps of water. He took about three pauses in between, but he otherwise drank the whole thing fairly quickly.
When he was done, Tharn threw the empty bottle in the mini trash receptacle that was mounted to the wall and pulled Type back to lean his weight against him.
"How many times have you thrown up?" Tharn asked. He pulled tissues from the bag and began wiping down Type's sweaty neck and forehead.
Type closed his eyes as he let himself lean against Tharn and allowed the man to take care of him. "Four or five."
"Fuck." Tharn was shocked. "From just a candle?"
"It's not usually this bad." Type said. "It was both. The fish and the strawberry," Type put a soothing hand over his stomach, "baby couldn't take it."
"What else upsets the baby?" Tharn asked.
"Um, coffee, but only if I drink it. Anything burning like an overcooked meal or forgotten popcorn. Cigarettes especially, holy shit. Can't stand cigarettes. Sometimes pizza. Always raw meats. Cherries and strawberries for some weird reason." Type rubbed his eyes as he thought. "There's a list somewhere, but that's what I remember." He rushed out as his body tensed up again. "You know, it would be really great if we changed the subject now."
"Right, sorry." Tharn nodded. He searched through the bag for something to help. "Here," he pulled out some saltines, "can you try to eat?"
"Ugh, no." Type pushed the crackers away. "No, it's too soon."
"Alright well," Tharn put the offending food items back, "I've heard a rumor that drugs are cool, and you should always say yes if someone's offering." He lightly joked, pulling out a pill bottle of Alieve. "So let's take some, yeah?"
Type chortled and reached for the bottle, taking two of the little blue pills out while Tharn pulled a second water from the baby bag.
Type popped one in and swallowed it down ignoring the water offered to him. He was about to do the same for the second but Tharn held his arm.
"Wait, wait. What are you doing?" Tharn asked. "At least drink some water to help."
"No need," Type shook his head. "I can do it dry."
"Type." Tharn re-offered the bottle sternly. "Your body needs the hydration anyway."
"Oy," Type complained, "I already drank the first bottle, I'm too waterlogged right now."
Tharn sighed. "Type."
Type tried his best to glare at Tharn, but those pleading eyes were too much. He just looked so worried and unusually tense. What happened to the smug bastard that greeted him at the register? The shithead who called him only to tease him and laughed when he beat Type from paying?
Type sighed harshly as he took it. “Fine, fine, quit your pouting.” He protested as he properly swallowed the pill with a gulp of water.
When Tharn accepted the water back from Type, he at least seemed less tense.
“Thank you.” Tharn offered softly, pulling Type against him again.
“Whatever,” Type mumbled as he closed his eyes and leaned in.
Champ waited unnoticed in the opening of the stall door as long as he felt he should before finally asking, “How long till the medicine kicks in?”
“Half an hour.” Type mumbled. “Give or take.”
“Well,” Techno sighed, “looks like we have a little time to kill.” He unlocked the door and stepped out, “anyone want me to get them anything?”
“Actually, I’ll go with you,” Champ and Techno shared a secret fist bump by the door. “You two will be okay in here without us, right?” He asked.
“We’ll be fine.” Tharn answered back.
“Okay, we’re just gonna walk around, text us if anything changes.” Techno requested.
Tharn rested his cheek against Type’s head. “I will.” He sighed, his hands going around Type's waist to hold his stomach, meeting Type’s hands there.
The impending silence that came after the friends left and the door closed, wasn’t as cavernous and unpleasant as Type expected it to be. In fact, it was sort of nice. Sitting in the silence as he gathered his mind.
“Tharn.” Type’s voice was uncharacteristically small.
“Yes, darling?” Tharn hummed, ready to answer Type’s need.
“You said you were in a band once, right?” He asked anxiously.
Tharn blinked, wondering why Type would be bringing that up now. “Yes?”
“...um,” Type nervously played with Tharn’s fingers, “Do you think you could sing for me? Just a little…” he trailed off.
An overwhelming sense of warmth overtook Tharn as he kissed Type’s hair and smiled. “Of course sweetheart.”
BONUS
“Type! You’re not gonna believe what Champ and I found!” Techno all but bounced up to his friend as soon as he and Tharn emerged from the restroom.
Type stood back in worry, “What?”
“Look at these! They're the cutest!” He excitedly held up a small baby onesie that was solid black aside from the words printed on the front in white; My uncle loves me this much! The words surrounded a cartoon t-rex holding out mini arm-claws that reached the sides of the onesie end to end.
Type chuckled softly and held the onesie as he read it, “Cute.”
“Champ!” Techno nudged, “Show him yours.”
Champ smiled and held it up. It was a mint green onesie that had small, cartoon, baby rattles all over it in alternating colors of blue, light yellow, and white. The words on the front spelled out in white calligraphy; Of course I’m cute, just look at my mom. Complete with a cartoon heart next to the word mom.
Tharn chuckled behind Type. “It fits.”
“They even had this little, mini, baby-sized tux!” Techno squealed, “With a bow tie, oh, it was so adorable, I almost fainted.”
“Can confirm,” Champ spoke up as he grabbed Techno’s onesie with his. “He was like two seconds away from dying.”
“These are great, Ai’No,” Type smiled, “But clothes aren’t for four weeks at least. Don’t faint and die until then.”
“I’m not going to survive.” Techno sighed happily as the four of them began making their way out of the store.
“Looking forward to it.” Champ laughed as Techno sputtered up at him offendedly.
Tharn held Type back a little as he quietly asked, “Why wait another month for buying clothes?”
Type simply shrugged. “I don’t want to get anything yet till I know the baby’s gender,” he informed, “that’s happening in four weeks.”
Tharn stood stock still as he watched Type and the others move for the exit without him, limbs going a little numb. “Four weeks?”