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On a surface level at least, Edward had come to terms with the diagnosis long before Bruce. He had no other option - from the moment the blackouts and memory loss started he was swept along on a swiftly accelerating countdown. He did the research and wasted what little time he had left learning again and again and again how hopeless his situation was.
But Bruce never gave up. Dragging him from specialist to specialist, all the while insisting that Edward was not going to die. If Edward’s mind weren’t so compromised, surely he would have known Bruce had something else up his sleeve.
“Edward? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Edward glances across the bed at Bruce, who is still lying in the same spot he’s been most of the afternoon. Nine months since Edward last had to doubt his mind and Bruce still worries whenever he’s quiet for more than a few minutes.
So Edward scoots to join him, into the cooling path of the multiple fans trained on Bruce’s body. The change in temperature makes him shiver. He can’t remember much of the pool, but he remembers sliding into its depths, body adjusting far too quickly to the bone chill of the water.
Of course, Bruce has felt that water too. Edward lands up against his warm bulk and trails a hand over the swell of his stomach, up to the heavy curve of his breasts. Bruce turns towards him a little, resting an arm over him, nudging him closer.
Originally, Edward had been disgusted at the idea of the demon’s seed growing inside Bruce, joy at being able to think clearly for more than two minutes turning to horror when Bruce informed him of the deal he struck. But he’s always been adaptable, and he’s come to appreciate Bruce’s changing body. It has all the parts of Bruce he loves, but bigger. How could he not, when Bruce has done all this for him.
Just as he’s learned to tolerate Bruce’s collection of children, and even enjoy their company. But a baby, endlessly needy and ready to complain loudly about it, is a different matter. Luckily, soon Ra’s will spirit the baby away, a core and unavoidable part of the deal. He’ll never have to deal with the pitter patter of Bruce’s tiny progeny running around the manor, taking up all of Bruce’s attention. Instead the two of them will soon go back to their renewed lives with surprisingly fresh-looking skin and perfect health, able to forget about the child until it reaches an appropriate age. Not a bad deal for nine month’s incubation.
He runs his hand over Bruce’s stomach. The beast usually responds to his touch with frantic kicks, likely attempting to tear its way out of Bruce in its primitive fury. For once it appears to be resting, gearing up for its big day. Seventy-four hours to go, the delivery suite is booked for Wednesday, and by next weekend it’ll be gone.
Bruce is staring off into the distance, quiet as he’s been the last few weeks. He refuses to talk about the baby at all, outside of facts like health and growth, not even when Edward reassures him that at least he’ll have it for its second decade of life, and think of how much free time he’ll have for patrolling until then. Edward may not be a good person, but he’s just good enough to know not to tell Bruce outright how much he’s looking forward to the upcoming due date. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”