Chapter Text
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Milo was an Omega. Had been all his life. The only thing different now was that his next of kin was no longer his grandfather turned father, but instead an adorable baby girl with white-blonde curls and baby-blue eyes.
He had a stress heat about a week or so after his grandfather's second death anniversary. He didn't know who had "helped" him the moment he succumed to the heat in the middle of the museum. It was a blur and he was in no way comfortable with the blackout or the ghostly feeling of fear as large, scalding hands pinned him to the wall and something even larger went places he never wanted touched.
All he really, knew was less than a year later, his daughter whom he never asked for, but is eternally grateful to have, came into the world. He wanted an abortion the moment he was put in the humiliating position of being an unmated, pregnant, barely 31 year old Omega, socially way too old to be having their first child, let alone still be unbonded. He'd thought long and hard, but thinking of his grandfather, and his parents, and their ever present loss growing stronger every passing day, he knew that he wouldn't be able to do it. With his apartment being supported by the last funds given to him by his grandfather only a year prior, he didn't have to worry about a place to stay for a while yet. Thankfully yet still, since he was over the prime bondable age of 17-30, he no longer was restricted to the Alphaic Law of 1812 demanding he bond the father of his child wherever and whomever that may have been, and was now considered a Matron Omega for still having birthed a child and head of household no matter it's reputation.
He was grateful for the fact that his job at the museum was now restricted by the same law letting him continue his work and not kick him to the curve the moment it was discovered he was pregnant. Sure, he had to work even longer and do some gruelling, not to mention boring, research. And sure, he was essentially a glorified personal assistant to some of his grandfathers old coworkers and put into some highly uncomfortable situations with the sleezyier of the alphas, but luckily, most of them thought his poor omegan structure was off putting. His gravid state also helped on the street when he fronted as being mated already. He was glad for the switch from P.A. to plumber about halfway through his pregnancy, despite the occasional heat complaint. He not only had space for his office, no one was around to touch him inappropriately or look at him with distain. It was a plus that no one could yell at him for bringing his daughter with him since they barely acknowledged him anyway, let alone his newborn once she was born
He was done, though, with the continual down playing of his academic achievements so they can disregard his need for the funding for the Shepherd's journal expedition. He knew where it was after fixing the sheild translation. If they ever listened to him, he could prove it.
He was revising his speech for the last time before his meeting with the museum heads. He would get his chance to find the Journal and prove to everyone that his grandfather, and by extension himself, was a true historian. That they weren't crazy. They weren't.
He was momentarily interrupted by the phone and reprimanded yet again for not taking better care of the boiler, as if he was the reason the boiler was a hunk of junk that has needed to be replaced for years.
"Aaa, abguh," Wilafred gurgled from her basinet, her little hands clapping haphazardly at his chalk-covered clothes.
Milo smiled over at her, going to her basinet and kissing her chubby angel cheek. She spitbubbled up at him, her mouth wet with saliva. He chuckled out a coo and wiped her off with a burping cloth from his trouser pocket.
He then turned back around and finished up his speech, leaving him plenty of time to get all his presentation together for 4:30. He strolled back to his daughter, peering down at her with a nervous grin.
"What do you say, Willo? Do you think I'm going to be able to pull it off?"
Wilafred squirmed a little with a soft happy coo, her feet kicking in reaction to her mother's voice. Her mouth opened and closed a few times showing off her bare gums. Her binkie, the newest one off the market, was held tightly in her left hand.
Milo's nervous grin softened into a fond smile as he began tickling her chin lightly with a couple of fingers. Her soft gurgling giggles echoing the action His smile stayed as he glanced at the picture of him and his grandfather.
"I know you do."
Thaddeus was his family alpha whom he relied on from the moment he was born, through his parents death, first love, first heat, and everything ever since. He was there with comforting arms, concern over taking him, the first time he came home from school an hour late and with a black eye. He was there with a strong, burning anger as he called from the University library for help when a group of anti-omegan protestors had tried to physically drag him off campus. He didn't know exactly what he had said to the university president, but the look on his face when his grandfather saw his riped shirt and bruised wrists scared him almost as much as the original assault.
He was there to listen when Milo broke down one day after almost three years of constant heavy encouragement of filling out his Needs-Met form from the Omegan Proprietary Office that his family alpha was meant to complete for the unbonded omega's best interest. He told Thaddeus he didn't want to mate anyone whom he didn't know and be forced into a bond a Needs-Met "traditional courting" would assign him. He vehemently stated he knew his own needs better than an office run by single-minded alphas who didn't know the meaning of no. Thaddeus never interrupted, just let his omega grandson let it out. When he was done and cuddled into Thaddeus' side, he was told that under no conditions was he ever going to be filling out one of those forms with a positive response for "Do your unbonded require additional instruction?" Furthermore, he would be signing over all rights to Milo at his passing under the Handler clause in the Alphaic-Omegan amendment of 1887, despite most alphaless heir apparent families electing the state's assignment of an appropriate alpha handler until such a time a family bred alpha would be birthed.
Through every bad event he could only think about the day that picture was taken. When he was placed on his grandfather's knee with a smile and his grandfather's helmet sank down his head. The instinctive calm of being surrounded by his alpha, safety cocooned in his scent. It was that particular day his love of adventure and language truly solidified in his mind. He was going to be like his alpha. Even today, though his death is still fresh in his memory, he'd do what he could to prove his alpha's trust in him was worth it.
Taking the hat from it's shrine, Milo let the same feeling of safety and calm float across his memory, allowing him the solidarity of his determination once more.
"Okay, let's get you in your wrap and head out, Wilafred. Mama has to get to his presentation on time."
Milo eased his daughter out of the basinet, noticing quickly she needed a change. When he first started doing diapers he was appalled at the chore, and now he was old hat at it and gave him some valueable mama-baby time. He had switched early on from the traditional long white dress to shorter, pale colored dresses on the market for it was easier to change her when he only needed to flip up the dress instead of bunching the fabric up, afraid he might be putting unnecessary stress on the baby.
The diaper change at the moment was quickly completed so they could leave. He already knew that later on she was going to be upset because he will need to wait to feed her past her early evening meal time. Hopefully the presentation will work itself out sooner than he was thinking.
As he was finishing securing Wilafred to his back, a thunk indicating a note dropping in his mail. He blinked at it, before shifting through it quickly.
"...meeting has been moved from 4:30 pm up to 3:30 pm... What?"
His stomach sank as he glanced at the clock. Another thunk, another letter.
"...due to your absence, the board has voted to decline your proposal..."
Milo was stunned for a moment before he angrily crumpled the note.
"They can't do this to me!"
What proceeded that statement was a rather humiliating chase down of Alpha Harcourt, which landed him with a bruised bottom as well as ego when Alpha Harcourt succinctly told him, "The museum doesn't fund folklore, Matron Thatch. Don't throw your career away for some crazy dream like your grandfather. You have a daughter to care for now, and so much potential - the boiler needs you afterall. I'll see you come Monday."
Milo wanted to scream, shout, cry, something as Alpha Harcourt drove away with the splash of a puddle hitting him straight on. He didn't do any of those as he got up off the ground. Instead he pulled his wimpering baby to his wet front, pulling his coat over her a bit. Though her sounds were gratefully quiet in the face of such a jostling, her face was streaming with the tears he longed to shed himself. He shh'ed her calmly with a quick kiss to her crown and a surprisingly still dry soother in his pocket placed to her lips. The tears were dabbed away with another of the many burping clothes he carried before he maneuvered her still damp face to the ventral artery near his neck, where his scent glands were the strongest. Wilafred snuffled at the spot before nuzzling the area, suckling heavily on her pacifier. Milo sighed, calming himself down by her scent as well, letting the instinctual scent markers of 'baby, protection, mine' flood his olfactory sense.
Suddenly the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, small drops of rain coming down, ever increasing in size and amount in a slow stretch of time. Milo's instincts demanded he find shelter for his baby, pulling a once long-ago-thought-gone purr from his throat to provide his daughter something relaxing to listen to.
It also became apparent that he could at least feed his daughter back down in his office where it was warm before heading out into the rain. His breasts had started to ache mildly at the fullness. He might later splurge for a museum called taxi if the storm persisted after the feeding.
Milo gathered his satchel and charts thrown around as quickly as he could and went back down to his office, locking it as he went. He placed his disgruntled daughter back in the bassinet and striped off his outer clothes, draping them near the boiler to dry. His little bralette, stuffed with padding to keep his shirts dry, was soaked too, but more with the built up milk than the water. He gently peeled that off as well and hung it to dry.
Milo stopped for a moment, listening for any sign of rain before making the split decision to go ahead and call for the taxi. At the phone he dialed for '0'.
"Good evening Operator, taxi service line if you would, please. Thank you."
Milo waiting for the connecting tone.
"Hello, I'd like to call for a taxi to pick up at the Smithsonian at 5:30 please. Under Thatch. No, under Milo, my grandfather has since passed. No, I do not have a mate for you to talk to. Of course my paperwork has since been updated. No, you will be providing me service without the need of an alpha's approval as by law I am allowed to request on my own behalf. Yes, I was made a Matron under the Handler clause over a year ago. Yes, set under the state of Maryland after having been enstated as Family Omega prior to my child's birth. I am not lying about being made FOmé, and am highly contemplating providing the state your company's unlawful denial of service to a state identified Matron. If you would just look in my paperwork... You found it misfiled under the wrong account? I'm sure it was a misunderstanding and you'll discount my fee for the trouble? Wonderful, 5:30, Smithsonian. Goodbye."
Everytime he advocated for himself, everyone was up in arms, demanding his bonded or family Alpha. He had never been more relieved for the Handler clause someone was able to slip into legislation. Sure it took him longer than most to get things done, but he was privileged with the choice. His family alpha was benevolent enough to give his only living heir a choice, instead of arranging for an Alpha heir apparent.
Since that was finally taken care of and all his clothing except his underwear was drying, he went about doing the same for his baby. He removed all of her slightly damp clothing, leaving her in her diaper. Her eyes, having cleared of the tears by now, brightened as she saw her mama. Placing him and his daughter down in the feeding corner he created months ago in a fit of nesting with some of his really, really old blankets and clothes, he eased himself into the most comfortable position for the area and pulled Wilafred close. She immediately started rooting around until he got her to latch. There was a spot of pain as always in the first pull. The ache eased with time and Milo watched with adoration as his daughter fed, staring into each others eyes with such dependency of love. This and normal tummy time were what truly brought the mother-daughter relationship to a stronger, healthier level.
Milo ran his finger over the curve of Wilafred's nasal arch, brow bone, filled rosy cheek. Her baby-blue eyes had been getting just slightly darker as time went on. Her waif-like curls grew at a rate unprecedented in the months of research he spent over infantial care.
Milo was pulled out of his thoughts as he realized Wilafred had stopped eating earlier than usual. He could still feel the build up in his glands. He frowned down at his daughter who was at least still latched, though a small drivel of milk spilled slowly from her mouth to her neck, but no longer suckling. He crooned in concern, his omegan vocal folds engaging in a low humming purr only male omegas could produce to encourage her continual feeding. That was apparently all that was needed as Wilafred responded with her own vocal rumble, much more like a squeaking then a purr, as if she were a newborn kitten then a baby girl. She kept going until her suckling started anew, palms pushing with barely any strength upon his breast so that his milk may flow stronger.
He switched her to his other side the moment he felt the dry suckles, knowing he got lucky having a baby that had just enough appetite to drain both sides. He knew from his research that the process of self milking was both time consuming and such a waste that most omegas and beta women had to suffer through.
Through the rest of the feeding, Milo kept up a steady subvocal purr, bending down and snuffling at his daughter's wonderful baby scent of clean and milky. His daughter was such a messy eater, but it never bothered him, he only had to remember the multitude of burping clothes and there would be no issues. It didn't take much longer for him to be completely empty. He gave his daughter a moment to continue a dry latch, knowing from experience that pulling her away before she was done meant a very disgruntled grizzly baby. Once she unlatched completely, he eased himself from the nest and grabbed a burping cloth, placing both it and his daughters head on his shoulder. He gave her small form a few gentle pats before the telltale wet sensation and sound finished. Milo cradled her back into his arms for a moment of watching her yawn around her smacking lips. It was neigh impossible for him not to scent mark her with his facial glands rubbing against her face, finishing up by wiggling their noses together and placing their foreheads against themselves. His heart swelled as Wilafred let out another yawn, this one ending with such a sigh of infant contentment and barely open eyes he could melt in place. He pulled a soother from its hiding spot and tapped it lightly in place between her lips. Her eyes closed completely after only a few bobs of the pacifier.
"My precious Willo, you are going to be something amazing one day, I know it."
Milo straightened up with a deep sigh himself, searching for the clock on the wall and seeing they needed to get going to make it to the taxi on time. If he missed it, the 30 minute drive would become an hour and a half long trek through down pouring rain. Milo chastely kissed Wilafreds check and pulled his now only marginally damp clothes from where they hung, changing his wet baby before placing new padding and clothing over her. With his clothing back in place and his contently sleeping child against his breast covered by her blanket, they headed back out of his office to home.
Milo was hopeful that he too could take a bit of a sleep, additionally cuddled with his cat Fluffy, after the disappointment the day had become.
The Alpha hiding in his dark apartment said that sleep was still a long way to come.