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Getting pregnant before their seventeenth birthday had been a stroke of bad luck. Deciding to keep the kid, then not tell their parents about it? Just plain stupidity. Having to actually give birth in their family bathtub was just the icing on the cake at this point, really.
“I've got the head.” Ford let out a startled laugh. “Stanley, do you hear? The head is out.”
“But the rest of him is not.” Stan gasped out, hands still clenched tightly on the rim of the bathtub. His knees were hooked over the rim as well, spreading him wide open for the kid to get out.
“I know, one more good push should do it.” Ford did something, and Stan winced at the odd feeling. As if he was turning the kid over while still inside. “Come on, Stanley, one more push.”
And Stan was so sick and tired of this stupid labor and this stupid bathtub and the damn kid taking his sweet time. So he took a deep breath, clenched his hands tighter, and pushed with as much strength as he could manage, for as long as he had to.
And then it was out. The baby was out, finally out. And screaming. Screaming was good for babies, right? Screaming was good.
“It’s a boy,” Ford said, and put the still screeching baby on his chest, and Stan decided screaming was the best thing ever. Damn, but the kid had a good set of lungs.
He put one hand over the baby’s back and grinned. “Yeah, you tell'em kid,” he chuckled, staring down at the kid's red face. His son’s face. He looked like a scrunched up monkey's butt. He hoped that cleared up before the ladies came a-knocking. The kid shifted, jabbing his tiny fists in every direction, and Stan laughed. “You see that, Ford? Barely a minute old, and he already wants to take on the world.”
“With you as a mother, I'm not surprised.” Ford grinned and put the fluffy towel they'd bought especially for the baby around it, wiping gently at his little limbs.
The baby finally quieted down, snuffling with its tiny button nose, tiny fingers clenching in Stan's chest hair.
Stan winced, but he was too tired to protest. “Damn, kid's got a grip. And he looks like a scrunched up toad, do you see ‘im?”
“The book said all babies look like that at first.” Ford leaned over, staring at the baby's face over the edge of the blanket. He smiled. “He's a very beautiful toad.”
“Yeah,” Stan agreed, pressing his nose to the baby's slimy head and inhaling. Fuck, he'd kill for this kid. “All the froggies will be lining up for him.”
Ford laughed and pressed a kiss to Stan's forehead. “He's perfect, Stanley.”
“Of course he is. He's the first thing I made from start to finish, he'd damn better be perfect.”
“What. The fuck.” The cold words shattered the happy mood the twins were in, and they both flinched.
Stan took a shaky breath and turned to face the door. And his father. “Hi, dad.” Now that he was facing his father with his newborn baby on his chest, he figured not telling their parents about his pregnancy had been a mistake. “Meet Shermie?” he gave a crooked smile, shrinking down into the tub when Filbrick snarled at him.
“You little-” he started, but Ford cut him off.
“Dad, please. Stanley still has to deliver the afterbirth. Please go to the living room and try to calm down. We'll come as soon as Stanley is done.”
Filbrick let out a long exhale out his nose, then turned on his heel and left. He did slam the door after himself, and Shermie started crying again at the noise.
Stan pressed his forehead against his tiny head. “Oooooooh, this is gonna be bad.”
Ford stared at the closed door for a moment, then took a deep breath, trying to look confident. “It's going to be fine, Stanley. After you finish with the afterbirth, we'll clean you and Shermie up and then we'll go and have a long, long-overdue conversation with our parents. We will explain, and I'm sure they'll understand.”
Stan gave him a look that perfectly conveyed how much he believed that statement.
Ford winced in silent agreement. He reached for the sink and grabbed the string and scissors they’d sterilized with alcohol they’d prepared to deal with the umbilical cord. “Let’s just… do what we can.”
Stan pushed down his whimper and pressed his face back against Shermie’s tiny head. This was gonna suck so much!
*~*
Ford sat on the floor, back against the tub. Stan was still inside, resting after pushing out the afterbirth. He was currently cuddling Shermie close to his chest and listing every swear he knew. It was quite the impressive vocabulary. The baby was quiet, probably dozing on his chest, listening to Stan’s voice and heartbeat. The book said it was important for the baby to be hear Stan’s heart, to bond with him better.
The swearing cut off suddenly. “Wait. Will hearing all this swearing when he’s so fresh out of me mess him up?”
“His brain doesn’t process words yet, Stanley. He’s just hearing your voice.”
Stan sniffled after a moment and murmured a soft “Sorry, Shermie,” anyway. The baby made a soft sound in reply and it formed the tiniest echo in the silent bathroom. Ford turned around, and propped his chin on the lip of the tub so he could look down on his brother and nephew. He stared at the baby, wrapped securely in the soft blanket Carla had knitted for them. His little face was still red and blotchy, his nose squished like a button, eyelids all swollen. He was the ugliest beautiful thing Ford had ever seen. Fascinating.
“We’re really fucked, aren’t we?” Stan asked, voice trembling, and Ford made a low comforting chuff.
“It wasn’t ideal, but we were never going to be able to hide him.”
“Yeah but I kinda hoped dad would not meet him while we’re both covered in blood and shit.”
Ford winced. True, the introduction hadn’t been ideal. Ford had been planning on sitting both parents down, on being able to control the setting and the narrative at least a little bit. Now, with their father already angry, there was no way to control anything as much as Ford had wanted. He took a deep breath, hands clenching against his knees. He needed to remain calm and steady, for Stanley. And for Shermie. He was the only Alpha they had right now, so he had to do his best and step up.
“It’ll be okay, Stanley.” He reached into the tub and grabbed Stan’s hand. He did his best to hide his wince when Stan practically crushed his fingers with how hard he squeezed back. “We’ll deal with it together.”
“All three of us.” Stan nodded, still sniffling.
To be completely honest, the thought of going out there and facing their father made him want to cry as well. “Yup. All three of us.”
- - -
Stan winced as he buttoned up his jeans, the fabric uncomfortable against his sore everything. He really should’ve taken Carla up on her offer of those soft hippy pants. Thankfully, knowing her, she had bought him a pair any way and would gladly toss them at his face with a smug “I told you so!”. She was the best.
“You ready?” Ford asked, Shermie held gently in his arms. The baby made a little snuffling noise, and Stan grit his teeth against the desire to grab them both and haul them both far away, preferably to a nest somewhere deep underground where their dad’s wrath wouldn’t find them.
“No. But keeping ‘em waiting any longer will only make this worse.”
Ford winced in agreement and handed Shermie back into Stan’s arms. It was a good thing they’d practiced with that bag of rice, handling the baby wasn’t as terrifying with at least some muscle memory. Stan cooed down at Shermie, his son settling back in his arms like he belonged there, over to his heart rather than under it, but still close.
Ford stepped closer and put one hand on Stan’s shoulder, the other on Shermie’s little head.
In tandem, they took a deep breath, steeling themselves. “Let’s do this,” they said, voices in perfect unison. Between them, Shermie let out a tiny coo, and Stan grinned down at him, rocking him slightly. Yeah, for this kid, he’d do just about anything, up to and including facing a pissed off Filbrick Pines.
Damn, but he didn’t want to, though.
Ford took another deep breath, his chest puffing up. During his pregnancy he’d started smelling like an actual Alpha, his scent becoming stronger and firmer, and Stan took a whiff to steady himself. Ford nodded to himself, chest still puffed up and opened the bathroom door, leaving first. Stan followed after, not quite able to push down his pained grunt at each step.
Pushing a kid out really took it out of a guy.
Ford noticed and glanced at him with a questioning look at the noise. Stan just grimaced at him, and hefted Shermie higher against his chest. The books all said he’d need to rest, so there wasn’t anything either of them could do until their parents were finished with them.
They made their slow way to the living room, slow only partly because of the pain Stan was still in. Both their parents were already waiting for them, Filbrick seething in his armchair, and Caryn sitting by the window, clutching one of her leaning pillows in her lap.
The twins swallowed reflexively and took a fortifying breath. Before either of them could say anything though, their mother spoke first.
“Stanley, sweety? Is it true? You really-” she trailed off, for once her voice failing her. Normally, she always knew just what to say when Stan messed up, so seeing her so quiet now was like a punch to his already aching gut.
Stan shared a quick look with Ford, then nodded with a small smile. “I named him Shermie, mom. Sherman Pines. You wanna meet him?” He tugged the blanked away from the baby’s little face, angling him towards their mom, pride like a warm weight in his chest.
Caryn got up, but didn’t approach. She still smiled, though. “Oh, he's beautiful.”
Filbrick snorted, and Stan flinched back, tucking the blanket back around the baby’s head.
Ford grabbed his arm and turned him towards the couch. “Let’s go sit.”
“You can stand,” their father growled, and Stan froze, hands spasming reflexively around Shermie. Ford kept pulling though, guiding him stubbornly towards the couch.
“Dad, Stanley just gave birth. He needs to rest.” He even used that confident Alpha tone he’d been practicing. Their father did not look impressed, but what else was new.
Stan sat down slowly, hissing when his ass made contact with the cushions. Damn, he was gonna be sore for ages, wasn’t he? Ford helped hold Shermie steady while he got settled, then stood to the side, facing their father. Good, that made one of them. Stan hadn’t gathered up the courage to meet his glasses yet.
“All right,” Ford said, chest puffing up slightly again. “I assume you have some questions.”
Filbrick snorted. “No. It's fairly obvious that that idiot got himself knocked up!”
Stan winced, shoulders curling, but Ford’s back stayed resolutely straight. “Don't say it like that, dad, it's not like this happened on purpose.”
“If he's too stupid to keep his damn legs shut, then it might as well be on purpose.” It was hissed with such vitriol, Stanley felt a chill go down his back. He should’ve stayed in the damn tub.
“Who's the father?” Filbrick demanded, and Stan glanced up towards him. Immediately upon seeing those glasses trained on him, he looked down at Shermie’s lil’ face.
“Rather not say,” he muttered. He didn’t manage to catch his flinch when Filbrick made a single menacing stomp towards him.
“Who. Is. The. Father.”
“We plead the fifth,” Ford said, moving to stand slightly in front of Stan. Stan kicked him in the calf to get him to move back aside, Filbrick hated when they tried to shield each other.
“Don't you know, Stanley baby?” Caryn crooned, and Stan looked towards her.
“Of course I know, mom.”
“Then why won't you tell us?” she pleaded, hands clutching at her pillow again.
The twins shared a look, then Stanley looked back down at Shermie, fussing with his blanket.
“We've discussed this topic thoroughly, and we've decided that as Stan has a right to privacy, we won't be divulging that information.” Ford’s voice didn’t waver once. When Stan had tried to practice saying that, he never could without bursting into tears. Stupid hormones.
“For Moses' sake, why not?!” Filbrick demanded in a bellow, and Stan curled around Shermie, shushing him before he could do more than whimper. Stan crying always set their dad off, Shermie crying would probably have a similar effect.
“It's a private matter,” Ford said, again stupidly moving to stand in front of them. Stan didn’t kick him this time, grateful to hide.
“It's probably some deadbeat that skipped town the moment that belly got round.” Filbrick murmured darkly and huffed. “This is just what we needed.” He turned to Caryn and pointed at Stan. “Now how the Hell are we supposed to find someone to marry him off to?”
Stan blanched. “What?”
“Marry off?” Ford murmured, eyes narrowing at his parents.
Caryn swallowed thickly, then placed the pillow aside. “Filbrick, I'm sure there's someone-”
“The only good thing about him is his virginity. Was, now. No one wants a used Omega, especially not one with a brat hanging off their tit!”
Both twins blanched this time.
“Oh, honey, you're being ridiculous. Look how cute the baby is. And he's big and healthy, those are important traits for a baby to have.” She smiled at Stan. “Whoever marries you, you will give them lots of adorable big babies, won't you honey?”
Stan stared at her, eyes stinging with tears. What… what were they talking about? Married off? Babies? What? They never said anything to him, what?
Ford clenched his fists, a low growl building in his throat. He shifted his feet, planting himself more firmly in front of Stanley, shielding him as best and as subtly he could. Not that either parent were even paying any attention to them.
“Now you're the one being ridiculous. Name one person you know who would take on a used Omega and saddle himself with someone else's kid?”
Caryn crossed her arms. “I'm sure there's someone.”
“Yes. I've already got someone lined up.” Filbrick’s glasses turned to Shermie and Stan flinched. “But not with the kid.” He approached then, and Ford stiffened, holding his ground. Filbrick stared down his nose at him, unimpressed.
Stan clutched the baby to his chest. “Dad, don't hurt him!”
“Shut up, you moron!” Filbrick snarled, then lowered his voice. “Like I would hurt a baby. Give him here, I wanna look at him.” He reached out with one hand and waited.
Stan and Ford shared a look, then Ford nodded, stepping aside. Stan slowly shifted forward, releasing his hold on Shermie and letting their father take him. His arms felt cold already without his little weight in them.
Filbrick held the baby out in front of him, one hand supporting the neck and the other under his bottom. The baby squirmed slightly, little legs kicking within the blanket.
Filbrick smiled. “He is big.” He lifted and lowered him, testing his weight. “Hefty. He'll probably grow up muscled like Stanley.”
“Y- yeah.” Stan grinned, shifting forward to the edge of his seat, not wanting to be too far from Shermie. “Yeah, he'll be strong like me. And- and smart like Stanford! And crafty like you and mom, he'll be the perfect Pines!”
Filbrick’s glasses turned to Stan. “That's right. The perfect Pines.” He stepped back and handed the baby to Caryn.
Stan paled, feeling frozen all over. “Dad?”
“Here's what's going to happen.” Filbrick put his hands on his hips, staring down both twins. “Stanford is going to get that scholarship tomorrow, and I will go and finish the courting contract I've been hashing out with Jade Johnson.”
“Jade Johnson? He's forty, he's too old for Stanley!” Ford protested with a growl, but their father just snarled back.
“Shut it! He's got money and doesn't mind the chub or the face, so he's it!”
“But... what about Shermie?” Stan got up slowly, hands reaching towards the baby, but Filbrick pushed him back down onto the couch. Ford caught him before he could make contact and aggravate his body more.
“Shermie is going to stay a Pines. Your mom and me will raise him like one of ours, no one has to know you got yourself knocked up.”
“What?” Ford’s voice was quiet, a trembling shocked thing.
Stan’s, in comparison, was a shriek. “No! He's mine, you can't just take away my baby!”
“Except he's not your baby, is he?”
“He is!”
“He is NOT! I will not have a bastard hanging around here!” Filbrick turned to Caryn. “We'll go to the hospital tomorrow and have them write a birth certificate with our names on it. Is that understood?” Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but she made no protest. She just stood there, holding his baby against her chest, as if Stanley would ever accept this!
“You- you can't.... he's mine, you can't just take him!” Stan jumped to his feet and headed straight for her, hands reaching for his son. But Filbrick grabbed him by the shirt, stopping him before he could reach. He yanked him back and Stanley fought, screaming and begging and crying. Shermie started crying as well, squirming and kicking while Caryn tried her best to hold him securely. “Please! I carried him, he's mine! He’s mine, he’s my baby! If it's about money, I can get a job, please don't take him away from me!”
“Job? What job will hire a moron too stupid to keep his legs shut?” Filbrick shook him, bringing him closer to snarl in his face. “The only well-paying job you're good for would be on a street corner, giving it away for money instead of for free!”
Stanley was too choked up to breathe. He felt like he was going to throw up, but that had to wait. Shermie first, he had to get to Shermie, he couldn’t just let dad and mom do this, that was his baby, that was his son, that was his Shermie. “Please! He’s mine!”
“Let. Him. Go.” Stanford demanded through tightly clenched teeth, fists trembling at his sides.
Filbrick glanced at him and snorted. “You may be an Alpha, boy, but you've got a lot to learn if you want to make any decisions. I'm not too certain you didn't knock this moron up yourself, with all the time you two spend together.”
Ford's hands clenched tighter, but his voice remained steady and firm. “I don't need to learn. I'm a genius, remember? And I can make this family millions. Or I can leave you high and dry, to wallow in middle class earnings till you croak.”
Filbrick stood to his full height, staring down his nose at Stanford. “Watch what you say.”
“Let. Him. Go.” Ford repeated. “Or you won't ever see a dime of those millions. I promise you that.”
Filbrick didn't let go of Stan. Instead, he lifted the hand fisted in his shirt so that his fist was pressed against Stan's throat. “And what are you going to do, boy?”
Ford took a deep breath, trying not to notice how Stan had to stand on his tip-toes to keep breathing. “I can invent a light bulb that can last for a thousand years. The whole world would buy it. I can make a weapon that will be as easy to operate as putting on a glove. The military will pay handsomely for it. I can open doors you can't even imagine. But I won't. Not without Stanley and Shermie at my side.”
Filbrick continued staring, his glasses glinting in the low light. Stan wavered on his toes, his hands trying to pry the fingers off his shirt. He kept doing his best to yank himself free and towards Caryn and Shermie, expression desperate and eyes trained on his baby. And Shermie was still screaming, his little face now just as red as when he'd just come out of Stan.
Ford clenched his teeth and steeled his resolve. “You think I'm joking? You think I won't march down to the school and smash my invention to pieces? Then you won't get anything. No money, no fame. And no sons. Because I sure as hell won't stay here nor leave Stanley or Shermie here for you to do with them as you please.”
Filbrick continued saying nothing.
Ford puffed up his chest, his resolve like steel. He was the only Alpha Stanley and Shermie had. The only family they had, the only one willing to fight for them. “So what will it be? Nothing or millions?”
Filbrick was silent, standing immobile like a brick wall. Shermie continued screaming, and Stan continued trying to break out of Filbrick's hold, trying to reach his baby. When Filbrick actually let him go, he stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor. He went straight to their mom and grabbed Shermie from her, wrapping his arms protectively around his little body, then darted around their father and ducked behind his brother, fisting one hand in Stanford's sweater. Stan then started pressing shaking kisses all over Shermie's little face and head, over and over until the baby started to quiet, his cries falling into little snuffling breaths.
Ford stood his ground, still staring straight into Filbrick's glasses. He didn't waver, because if he did that would be a weakness. He couldn't afford any weaknesses, not if he wanted to prevent Stanley being forced into marriage or Shermie growing up with a sham family instead of his true parent.
He clenched his fists tighter and kept his back ramrod straight.
After far too long, Filbrick snorted and sat down on his armchair. “Do what you want. I'm not going to waste my breath on you.” He paused, angling his head so that his glasses glinted in the low light. “But you better get me those millions, boy.”
“You'll get what coming to you.” Ford said, then turned around and herded Stan and the baby back to their room. In there, he could lock the door and pretend they were safe and that everything would be all right. At least for a bit.
One thing for was certain though. He was taking that scholarship and leaving his hellhole with his family the first opportunity he had. And if he didn’t get it? He would sooner pack them all onto the Stan o’War and swim away than stay here a day longer than they had to.