Work Text:
In the high-tech penthouse of where Mark and Falcon called home, it seemed the glow of screens never truly dimmed; a rare tranquility had settled over the city's relentless heartbeat. As dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows, two figures lay entwined in a bed of silk sheets and downy pillows. Mark Beaks, the energetic tech mogul, and Falcon Graves, the enigmatic mercenary for hire turned bodyguard, were an unlikely pair whose paths had crossed and somehow became entangled in the most unexpected of ways.
Mark, who never awoke before 9 am without a good reason, was already awake. His eyes, usually alight with the latest scheme or start-up idea, were soft as they rested on the rugged form of Falcon Graves. Falcon, a man more accustomed to the adrenaline rush of danger than the gentle warmth of affection, lay still, breathing deeply in the quiet hours of the morning.
In the quietude of their room, Mark's thoughts wandered, as they often did, to the future. Not the future of his company or his next big reveal, but a future that was both thrilling and terrifying in its domesticity. Fatherhood. The idea had seemed like another adventure, another challenge to conquer, but as the reality approached, doubt crept in like an uninvited guest.
As if sensing the shift in his partner's mood, Falcon's hand found Mark's, their fingers intertwining with ease on his stomach. What once was hard muscle had transformed over the last few months, softening at the edges and expanding outward as their egg grew. Mark's gaze drifted to the resting figure beside him, the lines of worry softening as he allowed himself this moment of peace. He let his hand wander, absentmindedly tracing the contours of Falcon's abdomen, feeling the rise and fall with each breath. It was a soothing rhythm that quelled the storm of his fears.
"Concerned about the baby?" Falcon's voice was a gravelly murmur, his eyes still closed as he leaned into the touch. A heavy sigh escaped his beak as he adjusted the angle he laid in to further press his body against Mark’s.
"A bit," Mark admitted, his usual bravado dialed down to vulnerable honesty. "I mean, what if I'm not cut out for this? What if I mess it up?" Falcon always had a way of allowing Mak to say what he truly meant. No white lies for the public, no dressed to the nines in fancy black suits for galas. Just the shades of grey that were just as apparent as the feathers on his body and the walls of their room. He could be himself here.
Falcon opened one eye, a hint of a smile playing on his bill. "You're not going to mess it up, love. You've built an empire out of nothing. You've faced down boardrooms and competitors twice your size. You'll be a great dad." his eyes closed one more as he turned his head to face Mark.
"But this is different, babe. This is a child, not a business. I can't just throw money at it and expect it to thrive."
"No," Falcon agreed with an airy chuckle, his chest rising and falling as he finally opened both eyes to regard Mark fully. "But you can give it your time, your care, and your love. And from what I've seen,” he paused, squeezing Mark’s hand where it rested above his stomach, “you've got plenty of that to give." he concluded, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of Mark’s head, wild wayward strands of hair tickling the tip of his beak as he did so.
Mark's heart swelled, the comfort in Falcon's words acting as a balm to the worries that marred his psyche. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Falcon's beak. "Thanks, Gravesy. I needed that."
Falcon chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Anytime, love."
And as the city came to life below them, the two lay there, the tech mogul and the mercenary, finding strength in each other's presence. They would face the challenges of the day together, as they would all the days to come. In the morning light, Mark Beaks, CEO of Waddle, stood on the cusp of fatherhood. With Falcon, his beloved by his side, he felt able to face any challenge