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“Can you stop fucking staring down there?”
Butchers request snapped Homelander out of his little trance.
“Hm?” His blue eyes looked back up at Butchers, then fast blinked a little in confusion. “What, am I not allowed to look at you?” He snorted. The sight was great, a shirtless Butcher with bedhead, how was he not supposed to look?
“Not just looking at me but in me. Do it again and I’m cutting out your damn eyes.” Butcher muttered a threat before taking a sip out of his bulldog mug, and Homelander had to resist the urge to laser it out of his mates hands.
“Yeah, and I'm allowed to look at my pup too. You’re also not supposed to drink coffee when you’re pregnant.” Butcher could swear that Homelander was the omega in the relationship with the amount of nagging he did. Butcher took another long sip and looked back at his mate—he considered Homelander—not ‘his alpha’.
“It’s only been six weeks, It’s barely anything yet. Probably looks like a fucking gummy bear..” The omega had to down even more coffee to keep his head straight, now that he couldn’t drink any alcohol for the pup and his sensitive stomach—this was the only brown he could down in moderation. Homelander rolled his eyes and looked back into Butcher again, yeah he was right, it was barely anything, but it was everything .
Ever since he heard the second set of heart tissue pumping in Butchers body, he’d been staring at his mates stomach, and it was unsettling the omega. He knew using his x-ray vision on him gave him the heebie-jeebies, but he didn’t care in this instance. Homelander missed out on Ryan’s first words and first steps, nearly all of his childhood, but now he got to watch his new child develop from the womb.
“Oi. I hate when you stare, makes me feel like I’m already fat.” Butchers little convincing alpha growl did dick to deter Homelander from averting his eyes. “Aren’t ‘dad bods’ in anyway?” Homelander smirked. Butcher just chucked his mug at the supes head as a reply. With how hard it hit Homelander and how it shattered on impact, one would’ve been knocked out, but the supe acted as a mosquito bit him. He narrowed his glowing red eyes at Butcher, who was grabbing another bulldog mug from the cabinet. “Feeling froggy, cunt? Leap.”
As much as Homelander wanted to zoom across the room and squeeze on Butchers throat, run his gloved fingers over that precious scar on his neck, bite him again, and bend him over the counter—he promised the doctors he’d take it easy if he wanted Butcher to stay pregnant. Ryan was already a miracle, he couldn’t afford this loss. So Homelander just lasered the tacky in Butchers hand as he was getting a refill, making him hiss and jump back. Butchers glare met his mates shit eating smile, he flexed his hand and cracked his knuckles. “Fucker.” He turned to just make his breakfast already, and due to his weirdly already hyperactive tongue and nose (damn supe zygotes) , that would be toast and eggs.
“Stress isn’t good for the pup, Billy.” That smug tone of voice wanted Butcher to snap his damn neck.
“Fuck off.”
A pause and Butcher glanced down at his stomach. “..what’s it look like anyway?”
“‘It’, don’t be so callous, this is our pup we’re talking about. She looks amazing. Developments all on track.” Homelander sauntered over and tried to lean in for a kiss, only to get a palm to the face pushing him back. “‘She’? You can tell already?” Butcher raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Well,” Homelander muffled behind Butchers hand before nipping it away playfully. He smoothed back his blond hair and bit his lip with excitement, fangs worrying over the skin as he wanted to share his thoughts with Butcher. “It should be a girl this time,” He smiled brightly. “We already have a boy, so Ryan should get a little sister.” He thought a little sister should be great for a growing alpha, and fawning over a little girl would be a nice feeling for both men.
“And what if it’s-“
“She.”
“A boy? You just gonna flush it out and try again?”
Homelander scoffed and narrowed his eyes at the omega. “Do you really think that little of me that I’d do that? I’d just like a family that’s a complete set.” He tucked his hands behind his back.
“Complete set my arse. We ain’t Barbie dolls, Johnny.” Butcher looked back at the toaster, hating how uncomfortable this concept made him, while for Homelander it was the absolute dream. “Suppose you’ll want a white picket fence to go with it?”
“We already have the dog.” Homelander shrugged and looked over to Terror, who was still snoring loudly in his bed. “And then…” he thought for a second and leaned back against the counter, watching Butcher more like a bug and a kid with a magnifying glass. “Hm, one more.”
“One more?!” Butcher jumped along with the toast, whipping his head back around to Homelander.
“Or two.”
“Johnny you’d be fucking lucky if I don't tie me fucking tubes after this,” Butcher snarled and grabbed his toast bitterly. His pregnancy was already a ‘geriatric’ one—he hated that word—even if he wanted more pups, he’d rather not fuck his body up further.
“And you’ll be lucky if I let that happen.” Homelander shot back, the urge to scrape his fangs on Butchers neck sizzled to the surface again like those eggs on the pan. The omega just snorted and started spreading the butter, the silence was making Homelanders perceived authority as the alpha start to crumble a little.
“..we’ll try for another in your next heat. You’ll love being a mom-“
“Dad.”
“Ugh,” Homelander huffed (damn insecure omegas) . “Dad by then. What kind of omega doesn’t love pups?” Well, that was something Butcher heard a lot throughout his life. He hated the expectation of omegas being housewives, stay at home moms, fawning over kids. He hated every expectation omegas had, it’s why for years he passed himself off as a beta instead.
“Me,” Butcher deadpanned, which earned a bit of a hurt silence from Homelander. “..that ain’t what I meant. You know I love Ryan and the new pup, I just don’t depend my happiness on being a dad.”
“Unlike me?” Homelander just pouted in that way that annoyed Butcher, crossing his arms as he looked back inside his mate again to soothe himself. He was an alpha who thought he’d never have pups of his own, and was hating how Butcher wasn’t as excited as he was. He loved how his mate wasn’t like any omega ever, but he just wished the maternal instinct kicked in stronger. “..fine, if you don’t want another, we won’t need another.” He caved—he did hate how it sometimes felt like Butcher was the alpha in the relationship.
Butcher glanced back at his mate again and didn’t feel as annoyed that those supe eyes were activated. “..what’s she really look like?”
“Small.”
“You’ve got a way with words.” Butcher pulled a third backup bulldog mug out of the cabinet and had the urge to grab Homelanders milk carton and pour himself a drink.
But he decided to leave the alpha alone for now. He was already biting into his toast the second his eggs hit the plate, then hazel eyes slowly looked back to the supe. “Can you just look away while I’m eating..?” He felt like a frog on a table getting dissected…like he was some glorified petri dish.
Fuck, he was getting nauseous and the prick knew it.
“I’m not watching the food in your fat greasy maw slide down your throat into your stomach honey , I’m looking at your womb—” Homelander felt the bulldog mug shatter in his face again.