Work Text:
Sekh let the front door of the cottage close behind him as he stepped inside, his large basket filled with various herbs and plants from his ever growing gardens leaning against his hip. He went straight for the kitchen, leaving the basket on the counter, plucking up a peach from the fruit bowl left out.
He was parched, but more so hungry , and he'd been mid-harvest of balsam when the thought of a peach overtook his mind, left it in a vice grip . Even though he'd had two, for breakfast earlier.
He leaned against the counter, taking a bit, letting his eyelids flutter over the sweet, soft flesh of the fruit, the juices flooding his mouth. It helped with his thirst, too. It was rather warm, even though he should be preparing the gardens for the cooler months coming. Different plants needed to be planted, some moved to one of the few sheds he had to keep them safe during the too-cool season. But a day this warm, this nice , beckoned him to go foraging as well, while the plants still thrived.
He needed more hours . And it didn't help that he had overslept… again . He'd woken up to the sweet, nutty smell of coffee, Gohma gently brushing his hair back with one hand, holding his cup with the other. And Sekh had been so tempted to even forgo the coffee and drag his lover back into the bed.
He reached up, removed his sunhat, dropping it on the counter as well as he took another bite of the peach. His hair was tied back in a lazy ponytail, some of it free and falling around his cheeks, clinging to his forehead from the hat. He was contemplating leaving his basket on the counter and grabbing another- he could sort through the herbs later- when he heard a familiar laugh, sing-songing within his head.
He lowered the peach before he could take another bite. "Syl?" he asked, even if she didn't need an audible reaction from him. His patron had grown so quiet, over the years- her power still flowed through him, but his conversations had gone from daily, to weekly, to even weeks between hearing from her.
Her laughter again, mirthy and carefree, and then two words, whispering inside his skull. " Two heartbeats ."
He frowned. "What?" he asked, looking ridiculous, as if he was talking to himself. "What do you mean…"
Think back, little sweetling. I can hear life in you, life anew .
He set his peach on the counter, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Oh , he loved her- but damn the fact that fey loved to speak in riddles and muddled words. Perhaps he'd gotten some of that from her, but she easily out did him on that front.
"You're not making sense," he admitted. He turned to glance out the kitchen window, couldn't see Gohma as he worked further out by the trees, cutting up firewood to begin stocking for the cooler months- but he could just see Zilv, their drake, flopped over on his back, sunning his belly lazily.
You bloom like a flower.
He opened his mouth to lovingly tell her off- but the words died, suddenly. He turned so quickly he nearly knocked his basket off the counter, running for the stairs that led down to the basement.
His lab took up the majority of the space- walls lined with shelves covered in books and various stocked potions, ingredients, and partial experiments . There was other storage down below- food and such, as the temperature was fairly cool and predictable-
And of course, the massive table where he worked.
He skidded to a stop, grabbing a small bottle, sloshing together a quick mix of fairly common ingredients. It was a recipe he knew well- he'd never really needed it for himself, but any alchemist worth their salt could whip it up. The ingredients mixed into a fine, translucent, barely noticeable blue. Without pause, he grabbed one of the small knives he kept on his table, pricked the tip of his finger with it, and let a few drops of blood drip down into the solution.
There was barely a pause between contact and when the liquid burst into a brilliant pink- rosy like a sunrise. He stared at it, his brain coming to a full halt. The only thing he heard were Syl's giggles, and his own heartbeat-
But he imagined he could hear a second heartbeat, fainter, mimicking his.
He was wrong, surely . He couldn't…
Sekh couldn't get pregnant. He knew that. He'd spent years of his youth, in the Underdark, after his parents' death, mixing more questionable elixirs than he could count, drinking them down in the hopes of stalling any sort of feminine presentation puberty had given him. It had helped, but it had left his insides a mess. After all, he'd never once thought himself pregnant-
And there had been plenty of partners, before Gohma. And, by all of the gods, they had been together years , what could possibly be different now ?
He took a steadying breath, then set to making the mixture a second time. This time he measured , taking excessive time to ensure each ingredient was exactly as the memorized recipe called for.
Once done, he left it to settle, crossing the room and going to one of his bookshelves. Something was nagging at him, something Syl had said-
Bloom .
He hefted up a large book, letting it crack open near the middle. He flipped back, the pages making the most pleasing rasp of a whisper beneath his fingers. He paused at a drawing of a large, pink bloom- a stunning flower, that left golden and pink flecks of pollen when touched- that when properly dried and ground, could be used to make a very potent aphrodisiac.
A flower Sekh had begun growing, that Gohma had tried so adoringly to harvest for him. The consequences had been…
Well, it was a very pleasing day, in Sekh's eyes.
He knew what the book said about the bloom, but he read over it again anyway- pausing to rub a fingertip over the last sentence.
The potent pollen can be used in its raw form to assist with infertility.
He closed the book, settled it back on the shelf, began biting at his thumb nail nervously. He turned back towards his work table, crossed back to it, boots feeling like they echoed on the stone floor that had been laid out in the basement. The mixture felt like it was staring at him, once again a barely visible blue tint to what would otherwise simply be water .
He picked up the knife, pricked another finger, the faded, discolored skin of his finger pad opening easily under the knife. He watched the drops of blood fall into the liquid, and once again, the moment they touched, a pink began to bloom in the water, damn near close to the rich color of the flower's petals. He barely had a moment to take it in, before he heard the door of the cottage above opening and closing, footsteps on the floor, and his name, being called, "Sekh?"
He took a steadying breath, turned away from the table, and went for the stairs. When he emerged into the cottage, he found Gohma was stacking a few pieces of firewood by the fireplace. He had a few flakes of bark and wood clinging to the thick fabric of his shirt, even one in his alabaster hair.
He glanced over when he heard the basement door shut and smiled at Sekh. At the mere sight of it, Sekh felt butterflies taking flight in his belly, cramping up into the cavity of his chest.
"Not sure we'll need this tonight," Gohma said, gesturing to the firewood as he straightened up. Sekh barely heard him. Everything was drowned out by his pulse, echoing in his skull.
He must have looked off , pale, perhaps, because Gohma's smile fell away.
"Sekh?" he asked, very softly. At the sound of his name, Sekh's vision focused, and he stepped closer, until he could splay his hands on Gohma's chest, slide them up to grasp at his broad shoulders. His partner was giving him a silent look, asking what's wrong - concerned, and Sekh hadn't said a word.
… Perhaps that was why.
He tried to think of words- a problem he seldom had - wanted to sound eloquent at least, but all he managed was his voice nearly cracking as he blurted out, "I'm pregnant."
Gohma blinked. Stared at him. Blinked again. Sekh couldn't read those gorgeous, ruby eyes.
"…What?"
Sekh swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. " I'm pregnant ." He felt Gohma's hands gently touch his waist- tentative, as Sekh leaned forward, pressed his forehead against his chest. Everything came out in a torrent of a single breath, an endless sentence, "I didn't think it was possible, it never has been , but that damn plant , the pollen helps with infertility and it must have worked when it got on you and then on me- I didn't mean it, I didn't think-"
" Sekh ." Gohma's voice was the pleasing rumble Sekh had fallen in love with endless years ago- made everything inside his chest vibrate in a warm fluttering of flame. He lifted his head, and those large hands on his waist squeezed- affectionately . "Say it again."
Sekh's brows furrowed. Surely Gohma had heard him . "Abbil, you heard me."
Those hands that Sekh loved so much left his waist, gently cupped his face, thumbs rubbing along his cheeks- hitting both his scar and the ever moving shadows from his patron. "Say it again." Gohma swallowed, his voice a broken whisper, as he added, " please ."
And Sekh finally understood the look Gohma was giving him, could read the poetry written in those heartblood eyes.
Adoration. Surprise. Pure awe .
"I'm pregnant." Gohma pulled him in, kissed his forehead, his lips warm, and Sekh grasped his shoulders tighter. Another kiss to the bridge of his nose, and then,
" Again, alurlssrin ."
Sekh laughed, even as Gohma kissed him, meaning he couldn't very well speak . He didn't care. He kissed him back, his arms sliding up around his neck, fingers tangling in Gohma's free hair. The larger drow released his face to grasp his waist again, hoisting him up, and Sekh wrapped his legs around his waist on instinct alone, as Gohma turned him, pressed him to one of the bookshelves in their living space.
A book clattered to the ground, as Sekh made pleased little noises, into the kiss, unable to keep from pressing his tongue to Gohma's, wanting it to be deeper , to be devoured and to feast, at the same time.
It was only when Gohma pulled away, forcing Sekh to take a breath, that he even realized his chest ached for one. He inhaled, then asked, smiling, "So… it's alright?"
It wasn't something they had spoken about, much. Or really, at all. Sekh had casually mentioned a few times that he couldn't have children, and it had never gone further. He hadn't known if Gohma would want this .
Hells, he hadn't known if he did .
Gohma pressed his face into his neck, nuzzling affectionately, breathing him in. Sekh relaxed in his hold, before carefully plucking the bit of wood he'd seen in his hair and tossing it away. "You're a mess," he whispered, smiling all the while. Sekh was finding he suddenly couldn't stop.
"Always around you," Gohma managed, even as he lifted his head, stepped back, and carefully helped Sekh back to his feet. Sekh brushed a few stray bark shavings off him, before reaching up, swiping his thumb along the snowy lashing lining one of Gohma's eyes.
His thumb came back damp.
Sekh was sure if Gohma cried, he might sob- and he wasn't sure if he could handle that, right then. This was… a lot . Good, but a lot .
"I left my peach in the kitchen," Sekh said, just speaking the first thing that popped into his mind. Gohma inclined his head slightly, and Sekh barked an unflattering laugh. "Oh my gods below that's why I've wanted them so much!"
Gohma only shook his head, as Sekh squirmed free from him, heading for the kitchen, scooping up the fruit. He heard Gohma following him, felt his lover's arms go around his waist and hold him steady, Gohma pressing his face into his hair. Sekh heard his hitched breath, but pretended not to, taking a bit of the fruit so he had something to focus on.
Still, he felt the corners of his eyes beginning to burn.
But the threatening tears were good , and that was all that mattered.