Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lucas

Richie’s the first person Beverly informs about her pregnancy. 

When she finally manages to get the words out her mouth Richie stares at her with wide eyes, jaw hanging open. If Eddie were here he’d probably tell him to close his mouth before he caught a fly. Richie was never particularly adept at not showing his emotions on his face and this time is no different. “Uhhhhh, congratulations…or my condolences, I’m not sure how we feel about this? How do we feel about this?”

Beverly snorts but it's devoid of its usual mirth. “I honestly have no idea how I feel about this, Rich. All I know is I’m fucking jonesing for a cig and I can’t have another until I figure this out.”

“Correction: we can’t smoke a cig until we figure this out. I’m with you through all this, Miss Marsh. We’re in it together,” he promises.

Beverly’s heart hurts at his use of the sweet childhood nickname. That’s Richie though, always there with an endearing pet name and a joke to lighten the mood. God only knows what she’d be without him. Before she can even think of a response to his heartfelt words she feels her eyes burning. She’s weirdly embarrassed. She rarely cries, even Ben can only count on one hand the times she’s cried in front of him.

Richie looks horrified as the tears start falling hot and heavy down her cheeks. She waves off his panic and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. “Stupid fucking pregnancy hormones are already getting to me,” she explains. She sniffles a few times and rubs at her eyes, taking a few moments to gather herself. “I mean I would be crazy to go through with this, right? I’d probably be a shit mom, but I know Ben would make a great dad.”

He rocks her back and forth in his arms, not loosening his grip one bit. He’s always had the uncanny ability to tell when she wants to linger a little longer in a hug. “You’d both be amazing parents, and I know the pack would be ecstatic to welcome our first pup. I know it’s maybe not the most ideal time and we’re still young, but it’ll be a group effort. Whatever choice you make, you have us, you have your pack, your family”

“I have my family,” she says because she needs to hear it out loud again.

“Always.”

~

Not even a year later she gives birth to her son in the bathroom of their little rented house with nothing more than towels, a nasal aspirator and Ben’s big hand to hold. He wanted her to go to a hospital but there was no pain on this earth that Beverly Marsh couldn’t grit her teeth through. Especially when it meant saving them a hefty hospital bill. And she’d go through it again. She’d relive those ten hours a million times over for her son. Her son, who looks just like his father except for his wild red hair. He’s theirs.

Suddenly, the fact that they're only a few years out of college doesn’t matter. She’d spent her whole pregnancy stressing over the fact that her and Ben are barely established in their careers, but it doesn’t matter now. She’d move mountains for this kid. She watches Ben cry almost as hard as their son as he holds him for the first time and knows they both would.

-

Last Dance With Mary Jane

Richie aggressively taps his fingers on the kitchen table. “I’m thirty-two years old, I have three toddlers, I can’t just smoke weed every time I want a cigarette.” 

It’s true that Richie’s nerves have been much less frayed since Eddie successfully delivered and recovered from the birth of the twins. Still, he’d been finding it impossible to get back off cigarettes. He’d forgotten just how out of control it is being dependent on a substance. 

Eddie in all his straight-laced wisdom had recommended weed as a temporary replacement. It had helped a few times in his early twenties when he had made on again off again attempts to quit smoking. His relationship with weed is more sustainable, it’s always been fun, he’s never counted down the minutes to his next joint, never lied or stole or hid weed like he has with cigarettes. 

“Why not? It’d just be temporary till you get rid of the urge. You and Beverly both need to get back off cigarettes. My pups won’t have a dad that smokes,” he says with finality. 

Richie considers it, “I mean it did work to get me and Bevvie off cigarettes for that year when we were twenty-two, until we realized how nice a high cig is.” 

“No high cigarettes!” 

Richie puts his hands up. “Never a high cigarette for me again,” he concedes. “But we’re in our thirties, we have three kids! Bev and I haven’t smoked that often since before we had Lucas.”

Eddie smiles softly. He likes it when Richie calls the pack kids theirs. He loves how blended their family is. “Well, maybe give it a try? You need something to get you off of the cigarettes. I’ll buy you those mints you like at the store tomorrow, I know those helped last time” 

~

“Cheers,” Richie says, tapping his cigarette to Bev’s. 

“Cheers,” she says back.

She flicks the lighter and they both use its offered flame to light their cigarettes.

These will be their last ones before they quit together again. They’re armed to the teeth with nicotine patches, candy and pre-rolled joints. It won’t stop the jones, nothing will, but it’ll help. 

He’ll think of smoking cigarettes for the rest of his life, get cravings everytime he smells a Camel, everytime he sees someone light one up in public or on TV, will want to reach for one after every and any stressor. These next few days will be especially hellish though because he can remember so clearly the relief his brain feels at the rush of the smoke filling his lungs. 

“I’m gonna fucking miss these,” he laments. 

“Me too. At least there’ll always be weed though.”

That’s true. That’s the one vice they refuse to ever completely give up. But as parents they can’t smoke weed as easily as cigarettes. Instances of mind altering substances must be planned. 

There’s nothing like calm a cigarette brings, how versatile it is, how easily obtained and used without impeding function. 

“Wanna smoke a joint tonight?” 

“Absolutely,” he responds.

Bev ashes her cigarette before staring it down accusingly as if thinking ‘how can one little stick hold so much power’.

Richie inhales deeply, savoring the smoke of what he can only hope will be the last cigarette he smokes.

~

Eddie smiles and puts down the book he was reading when his mate enters their bedroom. Richie gives him an especially goofy smile at which Eddie raises an eyebrow. Richie slinks over to him and crawls into bed. He unceremoniously plops onto Eddie making the omega groan at the sudden weight. He buries his face in his alpha’s hair and takes in his scent. He smells warm, happy and—oh! That’s why Richie was smiling like a loon. He’s high. Eddie nuzzles further into Richie’s hair, taking in the heady mix of Richie's natural scent and weed. He closes his eyes, getting flashbacks to their college days. 

Richie props himself up on a forearm and turns to start sucking at his mate mark. 

And Eddie is reminded even more of their college days. All high Richie ever wanted to do was get in Eddie’s pants. He feels a familiar heat start pooling in his stomach.

“You’re high aren’t you?” Eddie asks, not accusingly.

Richie chuckles and scoots down to rub his face into Eddie's stomach, bringing a thumb to gently trace the scar he has from his c-sections. “Maybe a little,” he admits, “what gave it away?”

“You smell like a dispensary, and you only ever wanna do one thing when you’re high,” Eddie says with a smirk.

Richie looks up at him, giving him that goofy grin. “Can’t help it, weed flips a switch in my brain and all I want is to be in you.” 

If Richie smoking weed gets him off cigarettes and brings a certain flair to their sex life, well, Eddie’s not complaining. 

-

Crown

Mike watches as his mother tenderly parts his daughter’s hair before beginning to expertly work braids into her curls. His mother’s got a little smile on her face, and Mike knows she’s ecstatic to be seeing her granddaughter. His mother always wanted a daughter but his parents were unable to conceive again after him. He’s happy he can give her this at least. Mike can also admit that maybe he needs a little help raising a baby girl, a black one at that. Sure they have Beverly, who acts as the de facto mother/woman figure in their pups lives, but his mom and his daughter will share a lived experience neither he nor Beverly can fully understand. Zara is surprisingly pliant as his mother works on her hair. His mothers skillful fingers are probably a far cry from the fumbling and cursing she’s used to when he or Bill or even Beverly attempt doing her hair. Mike watches carefully as his mothers fingers move with a quickness and sureness he’ll probably never be able to fully recreate. But Zara deserves his best and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to give it to her. 

From his seat next to his daughter at the kitchen table, he sweetly caresses his baby girl’s face. Zara is sitting agreeably in her booster seat and working on a coloring book as Mike’s mother works. She stays inside the lines a lot for a three year old. Even though Mike knows their pups are not biologically related to Stan they’re still certainly his kids. They both remind him of his mate in little ways. Stan himself is sitting on the other side of Mike’s mom and Zara, his eyes glued to her easy technique. As of now Stan is the best at doing Zara’s hair out of the three of them. He knows Stan’s done a lot of research, but nothing beats a real life teacher. 

His mom gives him a small smile. “She sits like a dream, Mikey, not tender-headed at all,” his mom praises, “You know that’s why I always had to keep your hair so short, you’d fuss and fuss anytime I tried to get near it.” 

“Yeah, she’s really patient, don’t know where she gets that from.”

“Definitely not you or your alpha, maybe your beta though, he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” she says, giving Stan a small smile. Stan’s cheeks flush and he gives a shy smile in return.

Mike can’t stop his grin. His parents were good people, and they loved him, but he never expected his mother to be so accepting of him being in a relationship with another alpha let alone a polyamorous one. There was a point where he had been worried his relationship with his parents would never be as deep as it once was after he’d mated both Bill and Stan. He guesses that is true of his father. They never truly found their way back to each other before the cancer took him. He figured his relationship with his mother would suffer a similar fate but on a whim he bought her a plane ticket to California right after the twins were born. She showed up without a second thought and after she saw the four of them together she took his hands in hers and looked him in the eye when she said ‘Your father would have been proud of you’. They cried in each other's arms, and it was like they had finally laid him to rest. He never thought they’d be where they are now. Just hearing his mom refer to Bill and Stan as ‘his alpha and beta’ is enough to make his day.

“Now there’s nothing to be done about the baby hairs in her kitchen, but you try to get as much as you can,” Mrs. Hanlon says, directing her instructions at Stan, probably already determining he’s a far more apt student than Mike. 

His beta nods. “Do you have recommendations on which products I should be using?” 

His mom starts adding little clips to the ends of Zara’s braids. She begins listing off products and Mike can see Stan making a mental list, hanging off her every word. His mom pats Zara on the back and places a kiss on the crown of her head before letting her know she’s all done. 

Zara turns to him and he happily picks her up and rests her on his lap. “Gramma do my hair, daddy. It look pretty?” she asks. 

“It looks gorgeous, baby girl, you have very pretty hair,” he says, gently running his hands over her braids. 

“Just like Grammas,” she says. 

“Yes, baby you have the same pretty hair as Grandma.” Zara has plenty of black women and girls in her life. He’s established roots in his local community and made friends with Zara in mind.

Mike wanted to make sure of it since he knew what it was like to grow up the only black kid in town, but he wonders for the first time if she’s been done a disservice by not having a black woman in her immediate family. Maybe he can convince his mother to move to California. It’d be a hard sell but Mike knows she desperately wants to see her grandbabies more than a few times a year. 

“Yeah, very pretty,” Zara confirms, and Mike’s glad they’ve at least been successful in instilling a sense of confidence in her. “Not like when Papa does it,” she says very matter of factly. 

Mike laughs at her unabashed honesty. Bill is by far the worst pack mate at doing hair. “Yeah well grandma’s gonna teach Abba how to do your hair like this, won’t that be fun?”

Zara nods and wiggles out of his lap seemingly done with the conversation. “You come play barbies with me and Jesse, Daddy?” she asks, though it's phrased more as a command than a question.

“Of course, Princess.”

He spares a glance to Stan and his mother before departing with Zara, they’re still consumed in a conversation about the best products for Zara’s hair. Mike was afraid that Stan might be put off by his moms intensity and inability to beat around the bush, but the beta seems to be delighted to be in his mother-in-law’s presence. Mike remembers Stan was her favorite out of all his friends. 

It had been one of those summer days where the losers came and helped him with his chores on the farm. Partly because they wanted to help and also because of a lack of anything better to do in Derry but mostly because the faster they finished Mike’s chores the faster they could all play together. His father never had any qualms about the free child labor and Mike enjoyed the rare treat of being able to chat and goof off during his chores. His mother had been plating up dinner later that night as his father finished his work outside. She was lightly lecturing him in that way of hers that didn’t have him tucking his tail between his legs but did have him listening. His mother didn’t always have the most commanding presence but something about her way of talking made you feel inclined to listen.

She nodded her head towards the table, silently telling him to set it as she continued on. “Sometimes I worry about you running around with all those white boys, you can’t do everything they can and always face the same consequences, Mikey. And it doesn’t seem like any of you think much through, do you? You included, Michael”, she had paused, fixing him with a stern look, “Well maybe except that little Jewish boy, not even three minutes around you hooligans and I can tell he’s the voice of reason, you at least stick by him.”

And who was Mike to disobey is mothers orders? So, stick by Stan he did. 

-

Photographs and Memories 

Beverly kneels in front of the old wooden shelf in their living room. It’s full of scrapbooks, tenderly made with love and care. She pulls the baby blue one off the shelf. Most of them were crafted by Ben, Eddie, and Stan but this one she made mostly herself. It documents Lucas’ first year of life. 

She flips it open to the first page. It’s photos of her when she was pregnant with Lucas. A lot of them are goofy. One of when Bill painted her belly to look like a jack-o-lantern. One where Richie has a food baby from thanksgiving and is pressing his swollen stomach to hers. And her favorite, the one where Ben is cradling her bump from behind. They look so damn young. How those two idiots managed to raise one of the kindest kids she’s ever met she’ll never know. 

She flips to the next page. It’s photos Richie took the day she gave birth in their bathroom. Beverly of her thirties would never in a million years tempt such a feat, but she can see how Beverly with a barely developed brain did. She has such a fiery determination in her eyes in the photos. 

In one of them she’s holding Lucas in her arms, he was such a small and pink little thing. Twenty-five year-old Beverly is giving the camera the most smug grin, clearly satisfied with proving her pack wrong about needing to go to the hospital. 

Her favorite photo, though, is the one of Ben holding his son for the first time. Him and Lucas’ cheeks  both red and wet from tears. 

She hadn’t meant to get pregnant with Lucas but she doesn’t regret him for a second. She never thought of herself as someone who could be a mom. She’d been so sure of her inability that she almost terminated. It hurts her to think about it now that she knows how amazing her son is, to know she almost kept them from each other. 

She flips absentmindedly through the scrap book. Lucas was such a chunky, happy baby. He had the biggest blue eyes, and the most curious expressions. She tenderly traces the line of his pudgy cheek in a particularly adorable photo. 

A weird sense of nostalgia and grief pulls at her. She doesn’t intend to have any more kids of her own. She found pregnancy less than glamorous, and she doesn’t trust herself to be the mom she strives to be to more than one kid. She’ll never have a baby again. Sure she has plenty of pack kids, who she adores all the more for the fact that all the seemingly impossible tasks of parenting fall on someone else. Which is a relief but at the same time a loss. With Lucas, every decision she made mattered and when she made the right ones, the joy and sense of pride was unmatched. She doesn’t want another baby, she wants her baby to stop growing up. She wants to still be able to pick him up and hold him to her chest. She wants to nibble on his little toes and blow raspberries on his belly. And while nothing has compared to the joy of watching Lucas grow into his own person, she just wishes she could slow time down. 

She’s pulled from her thoughts as Ben kneels on the carpet beside her. Placing a comforting hand on the back of her neck. It’s a common alpha move, but her and Ben never really played by those rules. He knows she needs to be settled as much as he does sometimes. There isn’t the same biological response that occurs when an alpha does it to an omega, but still she feels the twisted up emotions melt out of her. She’s never been one to let her guard down, but Ben has always had the ability to make her want to go belly up, to bare her neck and know his touches would only be soft and grounding.

“I miss when he was that little,” Ben says. 

“Me too,” she replies, cringing at how her emotions show through in her voice. 

“I could hear you thinking from across the room. You okay?” 

“Yeah, just thinking about our family, how much I love you guys,” she admits. The words feel foreign in her mouth, she’s not the most verbally affectionate person. She can tell her words surprise Ben too when he turns her around so they’re face to face. He spreads his knees so Beverly can slot hers in between. She takes in her husband's form, it’s well-known and loved by her. His handsome face sports a slightly concerned look and she falls into his chest and rubs her cheek against his rough stubbled one, scenting him, he’s overdue for a shave but she likes him like this. Looking happy, domestic, like a father. He’s wearing an old worn out T-shirt from his college days. He was skinnier back then, almost concerningly so at some points, and the thin cotton stretches across his chest and biceps in a way that probably makes him slightly self-conscious but turns her on. She likes him like this, with a little weight on him again, enough that he can cover her whole body with his. He’s still in shape, and Beverly knows he’ll never stop moving, he’ll never be that boy she met. But that’s okay, she’s not that girl anymore either. She’ll love him always, no matter what body, place or time. Beverly Marsh was made for Ben Hanscom. It’s written into the fabric of the universe, she’s sure. 

Ben wraps his big arms around her and she tucks her face into the crook of his neck. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

He’s always touched her with a tenderness she’s never felt she deserved. She loves how attentive and sensitive he can be, because she knows in another life, another Beverly Marsh only knows to accept a raised hand and harsh words. So she soaks in his touch, melts further into him in honor of that Beverly Marsh that’ll never know his soft touch, for every little girl who grew up with only bruises to press on and cigarettes to smoke for comfort. “I’m always okay when I’m with you.”

-

Tubthumping

Eddie's heart is in his throat as he watches his baby girl. 

Time feels as if it's slowing down as he watches Camille on her big girl bike. It’s her first time without training wheels and she’s refused all help, exiling her parents to watch from their porch chairs. She’s so fearless it scares him sometimes. He knows they were no better when they were kids. Hell, Bill used to ride Silver around Derry like he owned the place, sometimes with Richie on the back and almost always not paying enough attention to traffic. He knows logically every kid who's ever learned to ride a bike has fallen off of it at some point. But still, even with three six-year olds he somehow still has to fight back tears with every scraped knee and bout of the flu. He just can’t stand to see his pups hurt. 

He knows Camille is going down before she does. Her name is stuck in his throat and he tenses up. He watches as she starts to lose her battle with her balance and moves to spring out of his chair. Before he can get far Richie’s hand is on his bicep holding him back. 

He knows he has a tendency to make the kids nervous with his own anxiety. He can’t help it, he’s his mother’s son and just like her he’s often near hysterics when his babies get hurt. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that her helmet is on, and that scraped elbows and knees are a perfectly normal aspect of childhood despite what his mother had drilled into his head. 

He’s still always amazed by how calmly Richie handles their kids getting hurt. He’s taken to being a dad so easily it surprises Eddie sometimes. Not that he ever thought Richie would be a bad parent just that he never thought his hyperactive alpha would settle down so easily. Eddie relaxes himself when he smells the soothing scent Richie’s releasing to calm their daughter.

“You’re okay, baby girl,” Richie says, keeping the emotion from his voice as he jogs over to her. Richie learned that trick pretty quick, when it comes to minor falls and injuries, asking if the kids are okay after they get hurt leaves them unsure and scared, telling them they’re okay assures them of the fact. Eddie’s still not so great at it, but Richie’s a pro at this point.

Cami is their little dare devil and honestly they’re probably more upset than she is. 

Eddie watches as Richie picks this pup up under her arms and stands her on her feet. He sees her bottom lip wobble a bit but the look in her eyes lets Eddie know she’s determined not to cry. 

Richie brushes the gravel off her clothes and skin before assessing the damage on her knees and elbows. Richie hisses in sympathy when he turns her arm over and sees a swath of red road rash. A line of flesh from her elbow nearly all the way to her wrist has been scraped off. Eddie feels sick and forces himself to look away. 

“You’re my strong girl, aren’t you?” Richie praises, “but that looks pretty gnarly, why don’t we have uncle Stan patch it up?” 

~

“Gigi, I rode my big girl bike!” Camille happily informs Stan as he gently cleans her wound. She’s happily sucking on a lollipop Richie gave her to distract from the pain. It really is a nasty case of road rash and if it was any of their other kids but Cami they’d be in hysterics. His little girl is such a badass, and Richie would put money on her being the next pack leader.

Richie sees Stan’s small smile at the old nickname. All the kids in the pack are inconsistent with the aunt/uncle title and often just call them by their first names. Living in a pack meant their families were so blended they were basically all the kids' parents and all the kids considered themselves siblings. Sometimes it results in one of them receiving a nickname. Mike was ‘Mimi’ for a while and Ben was ‘Bubba’. Hilariously, Zara even went through a phase where she called Beverly ‘Mommy’. But Richie’s favorite name the kids have bestowed upon one of them was their nickname for Stan. He has absolutely no idea where it came from, or which or the triplets started it, but one day they had all started calling him Gigi and they never stopped. Stan took it in stride and now wears the moniker with pride even if it’s a name usually reserved for grandmothers. 

“You did? You’re very brave, huh?” Stan says. 

Cami grins at her uncle. “Yeah! But I fell off. Only a little though.” 

“I see that, but I think you’ll be back to riding in no time,” Stan says as he gently wraps a bandage around her arm. 

“Yeah! I get knocked down, I get up again!”

Stan blinks before looking up at Richie. “Did your kid just quote Tubthumping at me?”

Richie grins. “What can I say? She’s cultured,” he says before shrugging, “She’s been making me play it on repeat in the car.” 

Camille continues singing the song to herself as her uncle patches her up. His daughter is a brave little weirdo and he loves her all the more for it.

-

One More for the Road

“I’m pregnant,” Eddie blurts out. 

Richie looks up from the meal he was scarfing down at the kitchen counter and eyes him warily, entirely unsure how to approach the situation. The conversation is charged and sudden. Richie hadn’t even heard him walk in. Eddie getting pregnant again had been discussed at length. They decided against it solely because of how it affected Eddie’s health in the past. However, they never discussed what they would do if Eddie accidentally got pregnant.

“Are…are you gonna keep it?” 

Eddie stiffens at the question and chews on his bottom lip in thought. “I..I thought about…about terminating,” he admits, “but I just don’t know if I could do it, Rich.”

Richie nods in understanding and quickly pulls him into a hug. “I know, it's okay, Eds, it’s your choice. We’ll figure it out.”

“But we said no more kids,” Eddie murmurs.

“Well, I mean really we meant no more pregnancies, otherwise we’d have made our own soccer team with how many kids we’d have,” Richie points out. 

Eddie groans knowing he’s right. They do want more kids. The triplets are six and half now. Every parent he’d met said ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ and they weren’t kidding. He misses when his babies were still babies. But pregnancy has been historically hard on him. 

He rubs his face into his mate’s chest, taking in his calming alpha scent. “Okay well, my heat was…what eight? nine? weeks ago? I can go in for an appointment next week and then we can  see how big the litter is and how things are going.” 

“God, you’re almost 10 weeks? Remember how we used to count every week with the triplets? We even referred to them as the fruit of the week.”

Eddie smiles into Richie’s shirt, feeling a bit better after talking with his alpha. “We’re gonna have another baby,” he whispers sweetly. 

~

Eddie huffs as he gets into the car and fastens his seatbelt. He crosses his arms and Richie stares straight ahead, refusing to laugh. He simply waits for Eddie to start, and start he does.

“Did you hear what she said?” Eddie begins, “geriatric pregnancy? I’m thirty-six! I’m not that old!”

Richie refuses to engage in that particular debate. Nor is he going to mention Eddie’s birthday next month meaning really he’ll be thirty-seven by the time he gives birth. Eddie is a force to be reckoned with when pregnant. “Well, at least everything looks good. I mean she wasn’t too worried about you carrying this pregnancy. And only one baby? The risk is already cut in half.”

“Yeah the meds they had me on after Zara and Jessie have really leveled my hormones out. It makes sense. I definitely noticed way more symptoms in the first trimester the last two times. And since the doctor  said maybe I could try for a natural birth this time I was thinking, maybe we don’t have to do it at the hospital?”

Richie gives him his ‘You sound fucking crazy but you’re pregnant and hornmonal and little mean so I’m not gonna argue with you’ look. It’s a look of apprehension. “Like…like at home? Like Bevvie did with Lucas?” he says, trying to sound as absolutely neutral as possible.

“God, no, Richie, like a birthing center. There’ll be a doctor and nurse and everything, it just won’t look and feel like a hospital.” 

Richie breathes a sigh of relief. He understands. Eddie has loathed hospitals as long as Richie has known him. “Yeah, baby, I think we can make that happen if all goes to plan.”

~

Their morning starts with a soft conversation in bed as it usually does. The new baby has been their favorite topic of early conversation lately.

“We gotta tell the triplets!” Richie realizes suddenly, tiredly rubbing the stubble on his face but still grinning in exhausted exhilaration.

Eddie flops back down into his pillow. “Oh fuck, we gotta create a game plan for that one. You know Evie and Cami are gonna have a million questions. Teddy might cry, he hated when I was pregnant with Zara and Jesse.” His voice is muffled by the pillow. 

Of course before they can formulate a solid plan, Camille is opening their bedroom door. She’s leading the charge as usual, her siblings follow closely behind.

“Mommy!” Teddy says, climbing onto Eddie’s side of the bed and crawling on top of his dam. Eddie skillfully positions his son to avoid any accidental kicks or elbows to the stomach, he can’t afford them at the moment, well, at least from the outside.

Richie pulls Cami and Evie into their bed when they approach his side. He places them in the middle,  turns on his side and throws an arm over them. He presses messy kisses to each their foreheads and they giggle in delight. Richie props himself up on an elbow and makes eye contact with Eddie. At this point in their marriage they can communicate with a series of facial expressions.

Eddie sighs. “Maybe it's better to just get it over with.” He learned quickly that parenting rarely goes to plan.

Richie nods. “Soooo,” he starts, looking down at their pups to get their attention, “how do you guys feel about maybe having a little brother or sister?” 

Leave it to Richie to get straight to the point. 

Camille purses her lips as if mulling the information over. Eddie holds his breath. Her reaction will set a precedent for her siblings, Evie especially.

“Like Zara and Jesse?” Cami asked. 

“Kinda. Except this baby would be mine and mommy’s like you guys are,” Richie explained.

Richie can already tell Theo’s about to ask a question next before he opens his mouth. His son gives Richie a look that’s one hundred percent Eddie. It’s that apprehensive, calculating look where he examines someone’s face as if trying to gauge the mood before asking a question or making a request. It’s an unsettlingly Kaspbrak look. While Richie would never mention it to Eddie, it was Sonia’s look first. It’s one of the few things outside of his propensity for uncontrollable anxiety that remind Richie Eddie is in fact Sonia Kaspbrak’s son. Luckily their similarities stop there. 

“Will you like the new baby more? Sometimes when I get a new toy, I don’t like the old ones as much.”

“Theo, no, of course not! We’ll love the baby as much as we love you three, just like how we love each of you equally. You’re our pups, you can never be replaced.”

Theo nods, seemingly appeased by Richie’s reassurance.

“How did mommy get the baby?” Evie asks next.

Immediately Richie loses his confidence. Eddie cackles because he knows that explanation is on Richie. As long as Eddie is creating him a new child then the difficult conversations fall on him. Oh, the joys of expecting a new baby.

~

“Stop looking at me like that,” Eddie says. 

The look he’s giving Richie lets him know he doesn’t mean a goddamn word of it. “Looking at you like what?” he says from his position between Eddie’s legs. However, the current situation is far more innocent than he’d like.

“Jesus christ, like you’re gonna fuck me through the mattress.”

“I can’t help it, pregnancy has always looked so good on you.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t feel good. Oops has been kicking me all day,” Eddie complains.

Richie snorts. “Stop calling the baby Oops, she’s gonna develop a complex.”

Eddie groans. “Then tell her to stop growing so fast. It’s making the skin on my stomach itch.”

Richie reaches around to dig in the bedside drawer to find the salve he knows is in there. He pops it open and gently spreads what he thinks is shea butter on Eddie’s stomach. Or it could be coconut oil? He’s not sure, Eddie got it from one of Beverly’s hippie dippie friends. It’s supposedly good for stretch marks which is what's making Eddie’s overstretched skin so itchy right now. Richie has no idea what the hell is in it. His skin care consists of washing his face and usually putting on Eddie’s moisturizer much to his husband’s chagrin. But whatever the concoction is it smells good and he likes how it’s mixing with Eddie’s pregnant scent.

“Feel better?”

Eddie hums in response and it turns into a soft delighted noise that’s doing nothing to help Richie’s arousal. 

He pays extra attention to Eddie’s C-section scar, applying a liberal amount of cream and softly rubbing it into his mate's stomach. Eddie is still thinking of having a natural birth this time. He’s so much smaller than he was past two pregnancies. His last two months with the triplets has looked almost painful, not that Richie hadn’t found it undeniably alluring that he’d fucked Eddie so full of pups he could barely move. But he also liked Eddie comfortable and this pregnancy seemed to be his easiest by far. Not that he isn’t getting big. Richie had noticed he’d really popped this last week. Going from looking like he’d had a large meal to undeniably pregnant, undeniably and properly bred by his alpha.

Eddie knocks his knee against the side of Richie’s head. “I can smell it on you, fucking caveman.” 

Richie grins and rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin of Eddie’s inner thigh. As he expected, it only takes a few moments before Eddie cracks. He runs his fingers through Richie’s unruly curls before tugging harshly. Richie hisses at the pain and his eyes darken. He’s always been a sucker for Eddie pulling his hair. “Why don’t you make yourself useful while you’re down there, hmm?” 

Richie doesn’t need to be told twice.

-

Creek

Eddie closes his eyes lightly, bringing a hand to his forehead to shield them from the sun. Still he revels in the feeling of it against his skin. God, he’s missed the sun. He doesn’t miss being pregnant in the heat but he’s missed the sun on his skin. It’s a gorgeous spring day, late enough in the season that the flowers are fully in bloom and the sun is shining. He’s due in October, meaning he’ll be significantly pregnant in the summer this time which he is absolutely dreading. He can feel summer creeping in but right now it is still decidedly spring. The sun is welcome instead of oppressive. He moves his other hand to support his lower back, a move he hasn’t needed to pull for quite a few years now. 

It’s hard getting three kids out of the house sometimes. Soon it’ll be four. Three kids and an infant. Thank God he has his pack. And Richie. He doesn’t even have to ask at this point in their marriage for what he needs, Richie just knows. They’ve worked hard to get to this point. Things had been rough for a year or so after the surrogacy. They had to fight to find their way back to each other. But now they’re in a good place. A really good place, so good a part of Eddie is waiting for the other shoe to drop. This pregnancy has been going suspiciously well. It’s what he always hoped pregnancy would be. Maybe his body’s just matured enough, evened out enough from the havoc his mother wreaked on it, or maybe singletons are really just that much easier than multiples. He’s not sure, and honestly he doesn’t care. As long as things keep going smoothly and he has his pack supporting him he’ll be fine.

Richie catches his gaze from where he’s playing in the stream with their pups. They’d gone on a small hike that morning and stopped by the river for lunch and of course to play. Eddie’s standing by the edge of the water, he has no desire to get wet, but lucky for their pups Richie has no qualms about getting dirty. Richie gives him an award winning smile as he scoops a salamander out of the water and presents it to their pups. The girls squeal in excitement and Theo in horror. Eddie smiles, that boy really is his son. 

Richie carefully places the salamander in Evie’s hands. “You gotta hold him with a firm grip because he’s slippery but be gentle,” he instructs her. Evie nods, looking at the small creature in awe. Cami gently pets the little amphibian's head, reaching back with her other hand without looking and grabbing at Theo to pull him closer. Theo is reluctant but acquiesces as he usually does at his sister's coaxing. They remind him of Richie and he when they were kids. Richie prattles on, probably listing off facts about salamanders he learned during his animal documentary phase last summer. Eddie’s not listening but he’s watching. Soaking in every moment they have left as a family of five. He’s ecstatic, thrilled really, to be adding another baby to their family, but he knows things are going to change, and that’s scary even if it's for the best. 

The salamander squirms out of Evie’s hands and they all squeal in surprise. “Awh! No fair, I wanted to hold him too,” Camille pouts. 

Before Richie can even begin to pacify her, Evie grabs her hand. “It’s okay, sissy,” Evie assures her, “We can catch another one and you can hold it this time.”

Camille nods, always reassured by her sister's words. She grabs Theo’s hand again, dragging him along for the ride whether he wants to be or not. ‘C’mon Theo, you can help.”

They really are just mini Eddie and Richies. He’s lucky how well they all get along. Sure there are squabbles, and resulting tantrums that are fit to raise hell, but overall they all get along remarkably well. He knows siblings, not to mention triplets, have close bonds, ones he’ll never understand as an only child. Evie and Camille are particularly close, sometimes unnervingly so. Eddie’s still the only one who can tell them apart with hundred percent accuracy. They can even trick Richie sometimes when they want to, it’s almost a game to them. They laugh hysterically when the pack member they’re trying to fool finally catches on. And even though his daughters are two halves of the same whole, they never leave out their runt, always tuned into their brother’s needs. Eddie wonders how they’ll do with the new baby. They’d been pretty young when Jesse and Zara were born, and hadn't quite understood the magnitude of being a big sibling. But now they take to it like fish to water. Camille especially dotes on Zara, and Evie and Jesse are sometimes thick as thieves, reminding Eddie of Richie and Stan. His biggest worry is Theo. His little runt doesn’t do well not being the center of Eddie’s attention. It might be the only trait he inherited from Richie. He watches his pups splash in the river and scream with glee when they finally catch another salamander. He thinks about how perfect they are, about how he and Richie made them and how they’ll be amazing big siblings to the baby. 

Richie frowns and brings a hand up to rub at his mate mark. He looks up to find Eddie and tilts his head. ‘You okay?’ he mouths. He must’ve felt Eddie’s rush of hormone-fueled emotions through the bond. 

Eddie nods, giving him a bright and unguarded smile as he rubs his belly. ‘Hormones’ he mouths back with a roll of his eyes.

Richie nods in understanding and fixes him with an adoring gaze that still takes Eddie’s breath away even after a decade of marriage. ‘Love you,’ he mouths.

As per usual these days, the tears come quickly and without warning. He sniffles and rubs at his eyes, annoyed at his inability to keep his emotions in check. He sees his mate start making his way towards him and tries to wave him off but Richie ignores him. He wades out of the shallow knee-deep water and wraps Eddie in a hug. He snakes a big hand between them to place on Eddie’s belly, sweetly rubbing over his barely there bump. 

“Love you, Rich,” he whispers, “just got all emotional about how we make such perfect kids.”

Richie huffs a laugh and rubs his stubble on Eddie cheek and neck, effectively scenting him. “Course we make perfect kids, they come from you.”

Eddie hums. “I seem to remember you playing a role in their making.” 

Richie tucks his nose into Eddie’s neck and breathes in his pregnant scent. “Really? I don’t seem to remember. You may have to remind me, in detail, repeatedly.”

Before Eddie can continue the heated secret whispers that are a parent’s foreplay, the triplets let out a particularly jovial screech. Eddie peeks around Richie’s broad form to see Cami victoriously holding a turtle above her head. 

Eddie laughs and rests his head on Richie’s shoulder. How she even managed to catch a turtle he has no idea. Only Richie’s kid.

He pinches his mate’s side,”You should probably get back out there before she decides that thing is coming home with us,” he warns. 

Richie takes a second to soak in Eddie’s scent a bit more before he pulls back. “Cami, that thing is huge! How’d you even catch it?” he exclaims. 

Eddie fondly shakes his head. Leave it to Richie to encourage their antics. 

“I just grabbed her, daddy! She likes it, I think. Maybe she can come home with us?” The turtle, which had immediately retreated into its shell, certainly did not like it, but Eddie has never been good at raining on his kids’ parades so he doesn’t inform Camille of her new friend’s probable disdain for her. 

“Yeah daddy, can she come home with us?” Evie says, immediately backing up her sister as usual.

Richie turns to give him a look that screams ‘help’. Eddie fixes him with one that says ‘that’s all you, pal’ in return before he closes his eyes and starts basking in the sun once more.

-

Cornstarch

Ben watches warily as Eddie eyes the dry cornstarch sitting on the counter with a look he can’t quite read. He’s stress-baking the pack’s favorites. It's only barely fall and not quite the holiday season but that won't stop Ben from whipping up some seasonal treats. Mike may have him beat when it comes to cooking but no one in the pack bakes like Ben. It’s a bit of a curse considering he still struggles to enjoy the end product sometimes. But Beverly and his son both have a huge sweet tooth, and who is he to deny the two greatest loves of his life anything but what they want?

Eddie reaches for the opened container and takes a chunk of dry cornstarch in his fingers. Ben wonders if he’s gonna crush it for fun or something—Nope it goes right in his mouth. Ben feels more like he’s watching one of their household children instead of one of the adults. 

“Hey, um what the fuck?” Ben asks.

“It’s good,” Eddie says as if that’s any explanation at all and goes in for another piece.

“You do know that’s not—

“Don’t ask questions,” Eddie instructs with all the authority of someone who is heavily pregnant and undeniably doing some pregnant people shit.

Ben thinks he’s heard of this—pregnant people getting weird cravings but for non food items. “Hey, Richie,” he calls to the alpha on the couch in their living room, “Your omega is eating cornstarch.”

His betrayal earns him a glare from Eddie who goes in for a third piece of cornstarch.

Richie’s head whips around. “Cornstarch?! Eddie, why the hell are you eating cornstarch?” Eddie ignores him in lieu of eating another piece.

Beverly takes a moment to pause the movie she and Richie were watching before she turns to look at Eddie as well. “Oo, I know about this! It’s like these weird pregnancy cravings for things that aren’t food! Laura from my mommy and me class had it. I remember she used to try and eat aquarium gravel and particularly smooth pebbles.”

Richie, being as easily distracted as always, says, “I remember Laura! She was the one with that really cool dragon tattoo, right? Whatever happened to her?”

“She and her wife moved to Canada,”

“Good old Canada.”

Eddie’s focus is entirely on what Ben assumes must be his new favorite snack and he goes back in for another chunk. “Eddie, that can’t be good for you,” he says. That quickly gets Richie’s attention again and he’s on his feet. 

“Eddie, my love, whatcha doing?” Ben probably wouldn’t have noticed the slightest bit of alpha Richie put in his voice if he didn’t have one himself. Granted they usually reserved its use for the bedroom, but Beverly never had many qualms about using her alpha voice around him. Mostly because he wasn’t biologically predisposed to listen so not much harm could come from it. That didn’t mean hearing his wife talk in that tone of voice didn’t grab his attention, but then again, Beverly talking in any tone of voice got his attention. 

But there had been a time where Richie refused to use his alpha voice outside of emergencies. They’re the only alpha/omega pairing in their pack so Ben guesses he’ll never truly understand Richie’s apprehension to having so much power over his mate. Though it seemed kids certainly changed his perspective and after six years of fatherhood Richie can seamlessly blend a little bit of alpha into his words. Ben’s not even sure Eddie notices most of the time, but sure enough without fail the omega pauses in his pursuit of another piece of cornstarch and instead turns to look at Richie. 

“Alpha?” he says sweetly, and he’s got absolute hearts in his eyes when looking at Richie.

“Hey, baby,” Richie says, stepping into his omega’s space and sliding a hand to the nape of his neck. Ben watches him squeeze lightly to settle his mate. Eddie absolutely melts into the touch. “You can’t be eating that, it definitely wasn't made for silly little omegas.” 

Eddie gives him puppy dog eyes. “Awh, but it’s really good,” and picks up another piece of cornstarch but instead of eating it he offers it to his mate. “Wanna try?”

Richie eyes the offending piece of cornstarch warily but Ben can see him quickly lose the battle with his nonexistent impulse control. He pops the cornstarch in his mouth before making a face and sticking out his now stained white tongue. “Ugh, Eddie that’s like chalk, you definitely have whatever those weird pregnancy cravings are—“

“Pica!” Beverly supplies from the couch. “It’s called pica, I think.”

“Well, you definitely have pregnancy pica, Eds. We’ll talk with your doctor about it on Monday, okay?”

 “Can’t I just have one more piece?” Eddie wheedles. 

“Eddie.” Ben hears him slip a little more alpha into his voice.

“Fine, but you’ll have to hide that from me, I think it’s like my new favorite food.”

-

Like Father Like Daughter 

Richie ends up taking on a parent teacher conference by himself when Eddie realizes he has a doctor’s appointment at the same time. He’s not worried though, the kids all do well in school. It should be a walk in the park. Which is why he’s entirely thrown off by the teacher’s opener. 

“Do you have a family history of ADHD?” She asks once they’ve exchanged formalities and sat down. 

Richie slow-blinks at his daughters’ teacher. “Excuse me?”

The teacher glances not so subtly at his jiggling leg before looking back at his face. Richie quiets his leg and feels mildly self-conscious. The teacher continues. “It’s just, Evie and especially Camille are showing some early signs and symptoms. Obviously, they’re still very young, but it may be worth looking into, early intervention is important especially–”

Richie listens to the teacher drone on and tries to ignore the way that most of the things this teacher is labeling as ‘symptoms’ are the ways his daughters are like him.

~

“Do…do you think the girls are a little,” Richie waves his hand trying to think of a euphemism but is unsuccessful so he just comes right out of the gate with it, “…ADHD?”

Eddie chuckles a little, rubbing his prominent baby bump in a way that makes Richie’s heart want to melt out of his ass. “Honestly? Yeah, I noticed a few signs. I mean they’re so young though, sometimes I can’t tell if it's just them being kids or not. But Cami especially, that poor girl has zero impulse control. And Evie, I swear I have to repeat everything I say to her at least five times.”

“What and you didn’t share with the class?” It comes out a little harsher than he’d like, but he can’t help feeling like everyone was in on something glaringly obvious except him. It reminds him of being a kid again. All his classmates were snickering and waiting for him to notice the teacher had just called on him all while he’s too distracted by a bird outside the window.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at his tone. “Well, I mean like I said, they’re still young and they are your daughters.”

“Right exactly! I mean I’m just like them, doesn’t have to mean there’s something wrong with them.”

“Richie,” he chides, “even if they were ADHD that wouldn’t mean anything’s wrong with them, they’d still be our perfect little girls. Besides, haven’t you considered that maybe you also have ADHD and maybe that’s why they’re so much like you? It’s usually genetic.”

“What? No, I don’t have ADHD I’m just ya know…“ 

“Hyperactive and attention deficit?” Eddie supplies. “And Stan’s just a little obsessive about his compulsions.” 

Richie gives him an unimpressed look before sighing. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that those girls are basically mini mes but I don’t want them to be exactly like me…I don’t want them to…” he trails off.

“You don’t want them to struggle like you did,” Eddie finishes.

Richie shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I struggled,” he denies,  “I just don’t want them to, I dunno, feel different?”

“Well they are different, and they’ve probably already realized that. Now they’ll have a word and resources to navigate that. They’re different, Rich, not less.”

~ 

Him, Camile and Evie all end up diagnosed by the end of the next year. They put off medication until the girls are old enough to decide for themselves, but Richie tries it. He quickly realizes he was leading a harder life than necessary. A hard life he could’ve passed down to his daughters. 

At the end of the school year he buys the teacher a hundred dollar bottle of wine and those fancy European chocolates Stan swears by.

-

Friday I’m In Love 

Eddie looks down at his little baby girl and thinks I did that, I made this perfect little thing from scratch.

He’s sitting alone in the makeshift nest he crafted at the birthing center while in labor, The main event finally over and his baby has been returned to him, wonderfully clean thanks to the kind nurse. He had a much more enjoyable experience compared to the hospital. The birthing center is cozy and calming instead of sterile and haunting.  His mate is outside the room talking to the nurse and the rest of the pack. They’re probably all elated at the prospect of meeting a new pack member—probably for the last time. At least until one of the pup’s has kids, and he’s too emotional to go down that particular road at the moment. He’s suddenly aware that he’ll never have this again. And he’s forever grateful at Richie’s ability to read him like a well-loved book because he’s sure the alpha is the reason he’s being granted these precious moments alone with their daughter. He needed them. Needed it to be just the two of them together for just a little longer. He presses a kiss to the wispy dark hair on her head and wonders if one of their kids will finally have Richie’s dark curls. Theo takes after him almost entirely in looks and personality, while Cami and Evie are certainly their father’s daughters when it comes to their disposition, physically they are a perfect mix of them both with Richie’s curls and eyebrows and Eddie’s big brown eyes and nose. And Richie swears they have his mother’s smile. Though Eddie has no idea how they came out blond, it must be from his side of the family. He wonders if his father was blonde, the only pictures Eddie has ever seen of his dad he had been bald already. Cami and Evie’s blond curls have started darkening with age though. God, when did his little girls grow up? He holds his baby tighter, trying to cherish every second. 

“I love you, baby,” he whispers. They haven’t decided on a name yet. With the triplets they had picked them out months in advance. But Eddie couldn’t settle on a name this time, he just knew he’d know when he met her.

And the second she was placed in his arms he knew who she was—Friday. His daughter, his youngest. 

He’s so caught up in staring at her perfect little face he doesn’t even realize when Richie opens the door, the hormones and instincts already doing a spectacular job at making him forget that his body had felt like it was tearing in half not even an hour ago. 

“Do you have a name?” his mate asks,  “I mean I know we discussed a few, but you said you wanted to meet her before naming her.”

Eddie gently strokes their baby’s curls. “Today’s Friday, isn’t it?” 

Richie brow furrows, confused by the change of direction in the conversation. “Uh, I think so?” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and double checking. “Yeah it’s Friday.” Sue him he has three–no four kids, he’s lucky if he knows what month it is.

“Friday,” Eddie says with finality, looking down at their daughter.

Richie groans. “Eddie no, we can’t just name her after the day she was born, she’ll have the worst younger sibling complex ever.”

“Look at her and tell me she’s not a Friday,” Eddie insists.

Richie looks down at his youngest. She’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, and he knows then and there that she’s undeniably Friday. “Friday, huh?” he says, testing the name out in his mouth as he gently strokes her cheek. 

Friday makes a little contented noise and nuzzles further into Eddie’s chest. “See, she agrees,” Eddie says, looking simultaneously the most exhausted and beautiful Richie has ever seen him.

He suddenly realizes that this is the last time they’ll do this. He finds himself incapable of tearing his eyes away from Eddie and his daughter. They’ll never be more lovely than they are right now, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t soak in every single second.

-

Latkes

Stan’s family growing up was culturally and ethnically Jewish. They ate latkes and matzo ball soup, and Stan wears the same proud face that his mother and her mother before her did. They weren't so strict on the religious part though. Sure, they celebrated Hanukkah and even went to synagogue on high holy days. But they didn’t keep kosher and Stan certainly doesn’t live his life by the Torah nor was he raised to. Still his complicated relationship with God aside, he will always consider himself Jewish, it's just a part of him. 

But being the only Jewish person in the pack did get lonely. Mike and Bill always made a point to try and participate in his holidays and traditions. Even though Mike and Ben cooked elaborate Christmas dinners Bill always ordered a little Chinese takeout for Stan, so he could have the Christmas he grew up with. And if he's being honest Mike might know more about the history of Hanukkah than him with how much research he's done. Still, there hadn’t been anyone to truly share his traditions and culture with who understood. 

Until his perfect beautiful son that is.

Jesse loves Judaism, loves lighting the candles on the menorah, love's Stan's mother’s matzo ball soup, the same recipe he grew up with himself. He loves hearing about his family’s history, about their survival and their perseverance. Listens with wide eyes and asks questions when Stan speaks about his grandparents and great grandparents with much more attention than Stan ever gave his parents when he was growing up. He suddenly feels the need to call his mother up, to make sure he’s soaking up every last bit of his family’s story to pass onto his son. 

Jesse was delighted to learn that yes, he’ll always be Jewish because, yes, he’s Stan’s son but also his biological mother Patty is Jewish as well. It’s in his blood, Stan explained, and no one can take that away from him. 

Zara never took to Judaism like her brother but it doesn’t matter. He doesn't need more than Jesse to share this with. He never told his mates but he had been worried. Worried that his kids would be so like their biological fathers and nothing like him. And while Jesse is certainly Bill’s son in some ways, he’s more like Stan. (and if you ask Bill, Jesse is disturbingly similar to Georgie in some ways).

But Jesse, just like him, is the voice of reason amongst  his pack siblings. When Cami (who Stan’s betting is totally the next pack leader) has the kids riled up Jesse’s the one who talks them down from recklessness. 

It’s a role often held by betas. Stan likes to say they’re genetically predisposed to practicality. Honestly, Stan had thought it would be Lucas to fill the role, as the oldest and the kids ‘big brother’. However, Lucas seems to have his mother’s wild streak.

“Aba’li?” Jesse says, pulling Stan from his thoughts , only his wild head of curls visible, his face turned down, focused closely on his task of skinning potatoes for the latkes. They’re making his grandmother’s recipe. 

Stan can’t help his smile. Having three fathers meant they had to pick different names for their kids to call them. Mike was Dad, and Bill ended up as Papa despite his efforts to battle Mike for the title of Dad (Stan knows Bill will never admit it but the name suits him, especially coming from their pups’ mouths). With the two obvious options taken Stan saw no reason to not go with the Jewish name. They didn’t speak much Hebrew in his house growing up, usually only in prayers and songs. He called his father ‘Dad’ and the Hebrew equivalent ‘Abba’ equally. However, his father was never ‘Daddy’ though only ‘Aba’li’. Now he gets to be that to his own kids. 

“Yes, Jesse?” He says, running a hand through his son’s hair as the boy turns his head up to look at his Aba’li. They’re all smiles for each other.

-

Supper’s Waiting on the Table

Noodle dies on a sunny September day. The weather is undeniably temperate, so much so that one notes it when first stepping outside for the day, the beginning of autumn making its presence known. The pup spent the beautiful decade that was his life with Lucas. Ben’s heart aches for his boy because no amount of time with a best friend is enough. Lucas happily spent the last decade of his childhood leading that near-blind dog around, showing it just as much patience as he did everything else in his life. 

They decide to bury him in the backyard. Lucas says he wants Noodle to be at home, he never much liked leaving it after all. His favorite place was running in the backyard with Lucas, where he didn’t have to worry about bumping into things, where he could be free. 

At fifteen Lucas is strong enough to carry his best friend to his final resting place in the backyard, wrapped in an old sheet that used to fit the childhood bed he and Noodle first slept in. Ben watches from the lawn near the back porch. He wants to help Lucas, wants to carry the load physically and metaphorically through this terrible time but his son wants to do this alone. 

The whole pack watches Lucas from the other edge the lawn and it vaguely feels like some sick family death ritual.

“Did Noodle go to heaven?” Evie asks Richie, she’s rubbing her face into his side, self-soothing and unsettled by seeing a dead animal. 

They’re not a particularly religious household. Most of them were raised with some flavor of Christianity, but they don’t go to church or practice, most of them barely believe. Stan’s Jewish but it’s more of a cultural thing. Beverly is somewhat spiritual. Regardless Christian culture and thus ideas of heaven have seeped into their kids' understanding of the world. Ben can predict Richie’s response. 

“All dogs go to heaven,” Richie says with complete sincerity.

Evie nods in understanding. Still at a tender age where she doesn’t dare question her father’s understanding of the world during such a harrowing moment. 

Ben watches as Lucas picks up the shovel and starts digging. He desperately wants to go help him but he wants to respect Lucas’ wishes. Still, he can’t help but start towards Lucas, though his son angrily waves him off.

It takes two hours before Lucas falls to his knees and starts sobbing. Ben finally rushes across the lawn and wraps him up in his arms. The rest of the pack have retreated inside, only peeking out from windows and behind doors, but Ben is determined to see his son through this, to bear witness to his grief. 

“I need to finish his grave, I need to do it right! It’s the last place he’ll ever be,” Lucas sobs.

“I know, son, I know, let me help,” he reasons. 

Lucas nods, exhausted by the digging and allows his father to take the shovel finally.

“Why don’t you go get your speaker and some candles? We can give him a good send off.”

Lucas looks weary of leaving Noodle but Ben assures him that he’ll watch over him until he gets back. He makes eye contact with Beverly who's by the back door, wielding a cup of ice water she’s tried to force on her son several times now. Ben knows she’ll take care of their pup. 

Lucas comes back fifteen minutes later looking noticeably more hydrated and less dirt covered. He lights a few candles and turns on the speaker. He predictably puts on Noodles favorite band: Smashing Pumpkins. The pooch was fond of both the band and the activity, usually happiest when the two were combined. Every Halloween season Lucas and Noodle were permitted to smash pumpkins in the backyard. Noodle would happily chew at the rind and Lucas would collect the seeds to later be washed and cooked. He thinks mostly, they both enjoyed indulging in the freedom of purposely destroying something guilt free. Ben realizes that Noodle just barely missed indulging in their Halloween ritual once more. He falters with the shovel slightly at the thought. It’s then he realizes Lucas has brought back a second shovel.

They finish Noodle’s grave together and Lucas gently lays his best friend to rest. The pack comes back outside to say their goodbyes to Noodle. The kids put treats and toys and handwritten letters into the grave and Lucas’ shoulders shake. Ben pulls his son into his chest and holds him there by the back of his neck. Lucas would probably protest that he’s too old for such treatment on a normal day, but it's no normal day, it's the day his best friend died.

Ben and his son cover Noodle’s body with dirt together.

A week later Ben puts a plaque in front of Noodle’s grave. It contains his name and birth and death date, the inscription under it reads ‘a good dog’.

-

From Now on, our Troubles Will be Miles Away 

As Bill pulls into their driveway he takes a moment to appreciate their house. Mike, Ben and he had spent most of yesterday putting up Christmas lights. The twinkling lights really invoke the Christmas spirit and they look so much better in the dark than they did when he left this morning. 

Through the window he can see commotion inside that only comes with the whole pack being together in the common spaces. With a sigh he pulls himself from the car. It was a hectic day at work and he missed his family. 

He opens the front door quietly before shrugging off his messenger bag and tossing his keys in the designated bowl. He spares a few moments to take in the scene before him. As pack leader seeing harmony and bliss among his pack is like a balm on his soul.  

Eddie and Richie are dancing in front of the half-decorated tree, little Friday tucked between them somewhere between awake and sleep. 

Beverly is at the kitchen table with Lucas, Camille, and Evie, surrounded by a mess of construction paper, glue sticks, and markers. They seem to be crafting paper snowflakes and garlands. 

Mike and Ben are at their usual station of the kitchen counter, clearing whipping up some dinner for the family. The sweet smell of baked goods has seeped into the living area and Bill would bet money Ben made and decorated Christmas cookies with the kids today. Theo and Jesse are playing with the dreidel on the living room floor. Stan is still committed to the task of putting up the seasonal decor. Zara seems to be helping him decide which figurines would look best on the mantle place. 

Zara notices him before anyone else. 

“Papa!” Zara cheers and practically sprints over to throw herself into his arms. 

He gladly catches her and holds her tight.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Frank Sinatra is seeping softly from Beverly’s record player. Bill takes a moment to suddenly be nine years old again. He remembers this song, the smell of gingerbread and the sounds of a happy family. 

Jesse’s eyes look just like Georgie’s did shining in the glow of the Christmas tree. 

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away” Sinatra croons. He holds his baby girl tighter. 

Zara says something but it's muffled from where her face is pressed into the side of his neck. Her long legs dangle by his sides. God, she’s growing like a weed. 

“What’s that, baby?” he asks.

“It’s Christmas,” she says jovially.

Christmas is in reality still three weeks away but he knows what she means. He remembers how much he and Georgie adored the whole month of December as kids. 

“Yeah, baby, it's Christmas,” he says back.

He spent so many years as a child wishing he could have one more Christmas with his family. Now he gets to do this every year. Georgie is even still here. Partly in the form of his nephew that he never got to meet, and mostly in the form of the little ornament he made in his kindergarten class. Stan makes sure to hang it on the tree every year. The one that has that picture of him and Bill on it where they’re hugging and smiling brightly, in front of the pine tree his father had cut down and his mother had decorated. A moment of childhood Christmas cheer trapped in a moment in time. It’s painted with all the skill of a six-year-old. On the back of the flat ceramic ornament is one of Gerogie’s little handprints. He never got much bigger than that. By next Christmas Bill was an only child. 

He doesn’t put Zara down, toeing off his shoes with her still in his arms. She’s slowly starting to get too big to be carried around like this but he can’t bear to put her down. What a privilege it is that his baby will one day be too big for him to pick up. His own parents weren’t so lucky. He hugs her closer. 

He approaches his alpha and Zara automatically leans towards him so her head is resting on her dad’s shoulder. 

“You okay?” Mike asks, throwing an arm around Bill’s shoulders so there’s a line of connection between them that Zara can drape herself across.

“Course, I’m okay,” Bill replies with a soft, remembering smile, “it’s Christmas.”

-

High as a Kite I Just Might Start to Stress You Out

Richie is standing on the front porch with his arms crossed. Minutes earlier he had answered a midnight call from his teenage daughter when she and her sister were supposed to be at a friend's house. Evie had spoken to him in a stressed hushed tone telling him she was on her way home from a party with Cami and they needed help. She promised him they were both okay and begged him not to tell their mother. Richie will see about that. Despite her promises they were both fine, his stomach is doing summersaults. His mind races through worse case scenarios and he’s honestly thankful he didn’t wake Eddie. His mate would’ve only added to the anxiety in a situation like this. He needs to assess first. He watches as Evie pulls the car into the driveway and immediately hops out. 

“Daddy, please don’t be mad,” Evie begs, and it does simmer his temper. She hasn’t called him that in years and just hearing it softens him up. But then he gets a view of what’s in the backseat of the car she shares with her sister, of what she’s conveniently trying to hide behind her body, and his blood pressure immediately sky rockets back up. Camille is sprawled out in the back seat, looking decidedly out of it.

“Evie, what’s wrong with your sister? You said you two were okay!” worry lacing his tone as he grabs his daughter by the shoulders to move her out of the way in order to get to her sister. He throws open the car door, her head is at the end closest to him and he crouches down to cradle it.

“It’s just weed, daddy,” Evie says frantically, “but she started acting all weird and I don’t know what’s wrong so I brought her home! I told her not to do a second one!” 

“A second what?”

“Edible,” Evie mumbles.

“Oh Jesus christ, she’s fucking greened out,” Richie says exasperated. Camille starts shivering and Richie’s immediately reminded of his first time greening out on his boss’s couch after a late shift at the record shop. He was lucky that his boss was a total sweetheart about it, covering him in a blanket and plying him with Mexican food after. Right now he’s even luckier Evie had a solid enough head on her shoulders to make sure one of them stayed sober. God, he hopes she’s sober right now. But that’s a lecture for later. 

He lets a deep breath out, trying to control the millions of emotions overwhelming him. God, these kids were gonna turn him gray. Well, more gray than he already is. Luckily, Eddie seems to like the salt and pepper look. 

“I told her one was enough,” Evie says again, nervously shuffling from side to side as Richie slowly pulls Camille out of the car and into his arms. He hasn’t carried her in years and she’s quite a bit heavier and he’s quite a bit older. Though he manages getting her inside and on the couch with Evie’s help opening the front door. 

He lays Cami down and places a pillow under her head and pulls a blanket up over her. “Hey honey, you’re alright. This happened to me once when I was your age, just gotta ride it out.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Evie asks nervously.

Richie gives her his best ‘I’m disappointed in you as a parent but I love and care about you’ face before answering. “If it’s just weed—and it’s just weed, right?”

“Yes, dad! It’s just weed! We got it from the dispensary.” 

“I’m just making sure! If it’s just weed then yes she’ll be just fine. She just needs to sleep it off and she’ll be okay. Be quiet, if your mother finds out he’ll want to take her to the hospital and that’s probably the last thing she needs right now. If anything, she’ll probably want you.”

He remembers wanting nothing more than to breathe in Eddie’s scent that night on his boss’s couch.

“Sissy?” Camille asks, flopping an arm out of the blanket he’d wrapped her in.

Evie grabs her hand. “I’m right here, Cami, I’m always right here,” she promises. 

-

 Prom 

God, we’re old, Richie thinks as he looks at his daughter in awe as she walks down the stairs. She’s in a gorgeous flowy baby pink dress and Richie thinks she looks like a princess with her gorgeous dark blonde curls and sun-kissed skin. At the bottom of the stairs Evie’s kick-ass omega is waiting for her in a fitted pink suit that perfectly matches Evie’s dress. They’ve only been dating a few months but Richie can tell his daughter is smitten. Evie’s always been soft-spoken and shy for an alpha, especially when she’s not being influenced by her sister. Richie’s not surprised in the slightest his daughter found an omega who breaks just as many of her own gender stereotypes.  

Richie volunteered for camera duty so he makes sure to take multiple photos of how Angel straightens up when she notices her alpha start down the stairs, tucking her short dark hair behind her ears in an uncharacteristically nervous fashion and staring up at his daughter like she hung the moon. Good, he thinks, because if you ask him she damn well did. Angel puts her hand out as Evie reaches the bottom of the stairs. Evie takes it and smiles as Angel stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her cheek. Evie’s smile turns into a smirk that’s more often found on Camille’s face before she dips her omega and kisses her properly. Angel is properly blushing before she’s standing up straight again. 

Evie smiles at her omega for a moment more before she seems to notice him for the first time. She immediately rolls her eyes. “Dad! Are you crying again? You said you got all your tears out!” she complains. 

Richie clears his throat. “Sorry princess, you just look so beautiful.” And she does. God, she does. 

Richie’s attention is pulled from Evie when Theo comes down the hall, Eddie on his heels. 

“Teddy, your dress is half zipped! Let me fix it,” Eddie fusses.

Theo only has eyes for his boyfriend Daniel though. Richie had originally assumed Daniel was just painfully shy, but the more he gets to know the young alpha the more he suspects he is just quiet. Him and Theo seem to bring out loudness in each other. Richie’s heard them cackling like hyenas together more than once. 

Eddie doesn’t pay any mind to how the two boys are making googly eyes at each other. Instead he fusses with Theo’s flowy blue dress, finishing zipping it and fixing his straps. Daniel smiles at Theo, soaking him in like he’s the sun itself, before handing him a corsage of beautiful blue and white flowers. They perfectly match the shade of blue that makes up Theo’s dress and Daniel’s blazer. Theo demurely offers Daniel his hand and the alpha slips it on his omega’s wrist before placing a kiss on the back of his hand. 

“Mom, where’s the flower thing I’m supposed to give him?” Theo doesn’t seem like he can tear his eyes from Daniel.

“The boutonniere? Here you go, honey,” Eddie says, grabbing it from the fridge and handing it over. 

Theo takes the boutonniere made of the same flowers  and fumbles to pin it to Daniel’s blazer, they both chuckle.

Richie takes many pictures of the entire interaction. 

Richie watches his son’s alpha squeeze the nape of his neck. Theo melts into the touch and smiles up at Daniel. Richie is surprised Theo is going to prom at all. After all, attending prom five months pregnant at seventeen probably wasn’t part of Theo’s life plan. It certainly isn’t what Eddie or Richie imagined for their pup. Luckily they have nine months to learn to take it in stride.

For all that Theo is like his dam, he’s less stubborn, and sometimes Richie secretly worries that his son doesn’t have that same fire Eddie does, worries that the one area Theo does take after him is being emotionally repressed and even at times a bit of a coward. But maybe he’s projecting because Theo has been proving him wrong. He has never reminded Richie more of Eddie since he’s gotten together with Daniel and more specifically since he’s gotten pregnant. It took Richie a while to get used to the fact that his seventeen year old is pregnant, it took Eddie even longer. But Richie’s never seen his son take to something so fearlessly, so effortlessly as he does the prospect of parenthood. It’s admirable. 

Laughter from the backyard catches his attention. He watches Camille outside goofing off with her friends. He snaps a few more candids of Theo and Evie before venturing outside.

Camille is going stag which Richie admires. She was never one to let what she’s ‘supposed to do’ stop her from doing what she wants to do. And Camille wanted to get dressed up and go to prom so she is. She was sure the boy she had a crush on was going to ask her, but he started blowing her off the week before prom. She cried her eyes out about it for a night before deciding she was going to prom, date or not. 

Though she’s not entirely alone, she’ll be going with her close friend Nick and his boyfriend Damien.

They’re laughing almost too loudly when Richie exits the back door, and knowing Nick, it’s probably due to stealing sips out of a flask he brought. Richie doesn’t bust them. Nick is a good kid, had to grow up too fast so he could take care of his younger siblings. At first, Richie assumed Nick was a bad influence, but the night Cami cried her eyes out about that boy Nick was there. Three year old sister in tow and all. Eddie and Richie gladly watched his little sibling as Nick cried with her, laughed with her, and held her hand. Richie knows a good friend when he sees one. Nick is a good friend even if his daughter might be a little tipsy at prom. 

“Wait, I got a good photo op idea,” Nick says suddenly “we’ll hold you up! Dami, you get her legs, I’ll get her torso!”

Camille is immediately game. He proceeds to snap several photos of them in different silly poses. Nick asks for a few of just him and Damien and then because he’s a damn good friend he offers to take a few of Richie and Camille together.

Nick doesn’t just have stars in his eyes for his boyfriend, but his best friend too. Richie is glad Cami has someone so fiercely loyal in her corner. 

So yeah, maybe his daughter might stumble in her heels a bit tonight but Richie has no doubt she’ll make it home safe, and probably in Nick’s shoes instead of her own.

-

Leaving The Nest 

Evie is outside on their swing set, slumped against the chain and using the toes of her left foot to rock back and forth in a fashion that’s so pitiful Richie would be a bad father if he didn’t go check on her.

He looks down at Friday who's frowning at her math homework. He glances at Stan who’s at the kitchen table next to them, bent over a computer in what looks like such an uncomfortable position Richie almost winces in sympathy. The beta feels Richie’s eyes on him and looks up with a raised eyebrow. Richie tilts his head towards the window where Evie’s sulking is visible. Stan frowns in concern, and for some reason it warms his heart to see his best friend as concerned for Richie’s kids as he would be his own. 

“You mind helping, Fry with her homework?” he asks Stan before looking to Friday who finally manages to tear her gaze away from the problem she was staring down. 

“Yeah, Gigi, can you help me?” she asks, before leaning closer to her uncle and whispering conspiratorially, “I think you're better at math than Daddy.” 

Stan snorts and scoots his chair closer to Friday. “Of course, Fry, let’s see what we're working with.” 

Friday nods before showing Stan her worksheet. “It’s not very hard, Gigi, but I don’t get the problems with fractions.”

Stan’s eyes light up, probably in a mixture of delight to show his math skills off to his niece and the fact that she still uses that silly nickname even though she’s almost eleven. 

Richie takes in the scene of his family for a moment more before heading out to their backyard. He walks over to the swings before plopping onto the empty one next to his daughter.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks. His mom used to say that. Brain cancer took her last year.  He misses her more than he ever thought he would.

“I got into Duke,” she reveals.

“What?! Evie-baby congrats! That was your top pick!” he says, clapping her on the shoulder, “Why are you out here pouting? We should be celebrating!”

“I also got into Cami’s top pick,” she reveals.

Richie frowns. “Okay well, even better! You have options.”

Evie looks away, her expression unreadable. “I’d be across the country,” she says, “Not just from you and mom but…from Cami too.”

Richie suddenly understands. “You’ve never been away from her for more than a few days,” he realizes. Camille and Evie had always been inseparable. He suddenly wonders if they should’ve been more insistent they develop interests outside of each other. They played the same sport, went to the same summer camps, had a lot of  the same friends. Richie and Eddie were only children, they somehow all were except Bill. He will never understand having a sibling let alone an identical twin. He had always admired their close bond, but they’re growing up, becoming their own people. Richie suddenly realizes how important it is that Evie knows she can flourish as an individual. 

“She doesn’t need me like I need her.”

“Evie, come on, you know that’s not true.”

“I’m not alpha like she is, I’m not brave without her.”

“Please,” Richie says, not even entertaining her words for a minute. Sure, maybe his daughters had a codependency about them but they’re separate entities, and they’re certainly both brave. “You've always been brave, and you’ve always protected her right back, fiercely, just like any alpha or sister would.” 

Evie shrugs.

“And you know what? I think you’re brave enough to go across the country for college. I think you’ll do great, Evie. I mean I’d be a hell of a lot more worried if it was Cami, I think I need to keep a close eye on her for a year or two more. But you Evie? I always knew you were gonna do just fine, and if even you don’t, you have us, always. I don’t care if you’re on the other side of the world, kid, if you needed me I’d be on the next plane there.”

Richie can see her eyes shine with unshed tears. She was always quicker to cry than Camille, but Richie loves her for it. He thinks about how this is his baby girl and she’s going off to college, across the country just like they did at her age. It feels like just yesterday he had Eddie in his lap in the back of Stan’s old minivan, back when he had no idea what would become of their lives. Where did the time go? Before he knows it he’s crying too.

Evie sniffles a few times and wipes her eyes before looking at him. “Wait, why are you crying?” 

Richie scrubs his eyes, this conversation needs to get less emotional quick or Eddie’s gonna have a crying pile of alpha to clean up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, even if I was crying it wouldn’t be because you're my baby girl and you’re leaving the nest.”

Evie doesn’t bother wiping the next tears that slide down her face. As if reading his mind she says, “Bet I can swing faster than you,” before kicking off the ground with her feet and pumping her legs.

“Oh, you’re so on!” 

Evie looks over at him as he tries to catch up to her speed. “I love you, dad,” she says so softly he almost misses it.

“I love you too, kid,” he whispers back, knocking his foot against hers as he does. 

-

Bug

The best home renovation they ever made? A slop sink. Or at least that’s what Richie calls it, Stan’s told him numerous times it’s called a utility sink. Whatever, it’s sure seen a hell of a lot more slop then it’s seen utilities. And it’s about to see some more as Richie deposits his vaseline covered granddaughter into it. 

“Out of all the things you coulda covered yourself in, Bug? Really vaseline? I mean this stuff is like water resistant, how the hell do I even get this off you?”

Bug stares up at him with her huge blue eyes and Richie immediately melts and forgives all her transgressions. Those are his eyes. All his kids got Eddie’s eyes, even Friday who's nearly as much a carbon copy of Richie in looks as Theo is of Eddie. But Bug? Bug has his eyes. 

“Those puppy dog eyes are gonna get you far in life, miss Bug,” he informs her.

“Bug!” Bug cheers as Richie tries in vain to slough the Vaseline off her skin. 

Richie smiles down at her. She’s nearly three and only has as many words in her vocabulary. Theo would argue she only knows one word (Bug!) but Richie counts ‘Whoa’ as a word. Sometimes she even mashes them together into ‘whoa-bug!’, which Richie thinks is the cutest thing ever and possibly even worth counting as a third word. He knows his son is endlessly anxious about his daughter's speech delays, he remembers how nerve-wracking it was when the girls got their ADHD diagnoses. To think that maybe there’s something wrong with your kid, and even worse that maybe it’s your fault. But as he’s sure his own son will soon find out: kids are fucking resilient. He couldn’t be prouder of his daughters, both attending good colleges and getting degrees in things they love. It’ll take Theo a while though, Richie knows, to understand that he can help his kid but he can’t change her. But Richie’s been through this before, and as a grandparent now, and God that fact still fucks with his head, he knows Bug’s perfect as she is. He knows Theo knows this as well, but it's a parents job to worry, to want their best for their kid instead of making the best of what they have. But until then Richie is here to make sure Bug never forgets how amazing she is. 

“Bug!” Bug enthuses as Richie starts scrubbing her long dark hair and wonders how many rounds of shampoo it’ll take. Bug refuses hair cuts so her unruly mane is particularly long for her age, and if it were any other kid Richie might have given up and broke out the scissors. But it’s Bug and despite Richie raising several kids and being practically immune to a toddler’s tantrum, he doesn’t have the heart to cut Bug’s hair. Especially not when she’d stare up at him with those big, blue tearful eyes that look just like his. He has no idea how Eddie ever told any of their kids no when every single one of them share his same big Bambi brown eyes. 

He’ll be trying to rid her of the hydrophobic jelly for an hour at least, but that’s okay, he’s got Bug and she’s a fantastic listener. Sometimes people act like just because she can’t speak, she can’t understand, but Richie knows that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Bug might understand more than any of them ever will, and Richie knows one day she’ll tell them all about it. But for now he talks and Bug listens. Fatherhood and marriage has made a patient man out of him. When she’s ready, he’ll be there, and he’ll listen.

-

Desire Path 

Their living room couch is well-loved and thus has borne witness to many a family dispute. Richie usually tries to keep his ass firmly planted on it during arguments. Standing up escalates things. Friday and Eddie haven’t seemed to have figured this secret to life out yet. Friday is standing angrily at the edge of the living room rug as if ready to flee if things truly get too heated. Eddie is pacing back and forth. Probably escalating the anxiety of the situation if anything.

Eddie stops his pacing on a dime and swirls towards Friday frantically. “Fry, you have to a least try out college, if you don’t like it then maybe we can talk about–”

“About what? About what I want to do with my life?!” She says, throwing her arms in the air. She quickly returns her thumbnail to her mouth. A nervous habit of her that results in her always chipped nail polish. 

“Friday, you’re eighteen! You don’t know what you want to do with your life!”

“Yes I do, mom! I want to be a tattoo artist!” 

Eddie whips around to stare at Richie who’s been watching silently from the couch. “You gonna back me up here?”

Richie lets out a long sigh and prepares himself for the task that is disagreeing with his omega. “Honestly, Eds? I think it’s amazing she has such a passion for something, and she can always go to college later.”

Eddie gives him a deadly stare, but Richie’s not gonna back down. They all carry things with them from the subpar parenting they were subjected to. Eddie is always going to be anxious, and that’s always going to manifest in him being a bit of a control freak. It’s Richie’s job to make sure it doesn’t pass down to their pups. Well at least not all of them, Richie’s pretty sure Theo was born mildly anxious. 

“Listen Eds, we already have three college graduates, one of them who was a teen parent! Three out of four isn’t bad, besides she wants to be a tattoo artist not a drug dealer.”

“It’s basically the same thing!” Eddie says, bordering on hysterical. 

Richie gives him an unimpressed look that has Eddie immediately clamping his mouth shut and sitting down next to him on the couch. “God, I sounded like my mother just then.”

Richie doesn’t deny it and instead just rubs Eddie’s back comfortingly and watches how Friday digs the toe of her beat up sneaker into the edge of their living room rug. She crosses her arms and opens her mouth to say something but falters for a moment. “I–I just want you guys to be proud of me,” she says finally. 

Eddie looks up to her and Richie can see his heart breaking at her words. He’s on his feet before Richie and wrapping their daughter in a hug. “Fry, I will always be proud of you, and I will always love you. I just want what’s best for you, and sometimes I forget that's not always what I wanted or imagined for you.”

Richie comes up behind them and wraps them in a hug. “Besides, maybe if she does her apprenticeship close by we can avoid being empty nesters for a while longer.”

“No way, sorry, dad, but I’m getting my own place once I’ve saved up enough. Also empty nesters? Please, Theo commuted to college! He and his husband and daughter literally live on the other side of the house!”

Richie releases them from the hug but Eddie holds tighter. “It’s different! He’s a parent and has been married for years. You’re my baby!”

Friday hugs her mom back and plants a kiss on the top of his head. She’s taller than Eddie now, even if only by a few inches. “I’ll always be your baby, mom. I’ll just be your baby who tattoos people for a living. 

~

Two years later Friday gives Richie a tattoo on the very same well-loved living room couch.

-

Safe Sex

Richie’s in his recliner reading the latest book for the book club Eddie drags him to when he notices Bug coming into the living room. The book is actually somewhat interesting, following a young woman as she drives across the states. However, the set of Bug’s shoulders and the determined look on her face are much more intriguing. Bug politely sits down at her dam’s feet and looks up at him. Theo, who is engrossed in whatever network procedural he's currently obsessed with, doesn’t pay her much mind beyond laying a hand atop her mess of curls. In classic Bug fashion she gets straight to the point. 

“I want to start having sex,” she informs him.

Theo turns to stare at his daughter slack jawed, daytime drama forgotten. Richie tries to feign attention to his book but ultimately fails to contain his laughter.

“Florence Camille Toizer-Benson, you are sixteen years old!” Theo admonishes. Theo throws him a look from the couch that screams ‘help me!’, but Richie just shakes his head and laughs, letting his son know he’s on his own. Theo is such a young parent, only in his thirties and parenting a teenager. He and Eddie helped out a lot when Theo and Bug were young but there are some things a parent has to do on their own. Richie just counts himself lucky to witness the greatly entertaining aspects of watching one’s own kid learn to parent. 

Bug cutely wrinkles her nose in displeasure at hearing her full name. She’s always refused to be anyone but Bug. 

“I’ve done research and I think I can safely and consensually engage in a sexual relationship with one of my peers,” Bug explains. 

Richie has to hold back his chuckle. She definitely rehearsed this conversation. Leave it to Bug to initiate the birds and the bees conversation.

Theo stammers for a moment or two. “Bug, I’m not saying you can’t. I can’t control what you ultimately decide to do with your body, and I’m glad you decided to discuss this with me before going through with it, but I’m just worried.”

“Don’t worry, mom, I looked up how to use condoms so I don’t have a teenage pregnancy like you did,” Bug says with all the sincerity in the world. 

Richie fails to conceal his laughter this time and Theo shoots him a withering glare that he inherited from his mother. Richie loves the way Bug talks, even if it sets others on edge. 

“Teen pregnancy isn’t your only concern, Bug, I don’t want you to ever be in a situation you're uncomfortable with.” 

Bug nods solemnly. “Aunt Fry said she’d help me practice setting boundaries.”

Richie sees Theo contain his eye roll at the mention of his wild child little sister. While Richie can only imagine what Friday’s sex advice and education would entail he knows for sure it’d certainly be informative. 

“Okay, I just want you to be safe, Bug,” Theo says, fondly running a hand through her wayward curls. She’s still morally against haircuts, and her dark curls reach her waist. 

“Safety is my number one concern,” Bug replies. 

“Okay, well, now that we’ve raised my blood pressure, do you want to tell me about your crush?”

Bug’s pale skin, just like Richie’s couldn’t ever hide a blush to save her life. Richie smiles at his granddaughter. She clearly hadn’t expected her mom to be able to pick up on why she was bringing up sex in the first place. He’ll never get tired of watching them find their way in the world together.

“I didn’t say I had a crush!” 

-

After 

Camille doesn’t cry at the sight of her parents’ grave anymore, it’s been five years since her father's passing and seven since her mother’s after all. It’s more a twisted up acceptance that burrows in her chest. Because she got there, to that ‘final stage of grief’, only to find herself right back at the start, completing the spiraling cycle again and again. She tries to find comfort in talking to them.

“Fiona just had her first pup. And Roslyn is starting kindergarten. It’s almost creepy how much she looks and acts like you, dad.” Camille says. 

Her parents’ don’t respond. She sniffles but she doesn’t cry.

Her parents’ headstone is clean and well maintained. It’s a testament to how well-loved they still are. She wonders where all the time went. She still feels like that young teenage girl, running around town with her siblings. With not only a mom and dad to come home to but a whole pack. Sometimes she forgets she’s not in her twenties or even thirties anymore, that she can’t just call up her mom to talk her through her problems. She sniffles again, but successfully holds back full-blown tears, and decides that someone should really look into the way things just change. 

“I miss you guys so much,” she whispers.

Camille looks over to where her uncle Mike is. His wheelchair is parked in front of two graves that share a single headstone. There are two names already engraved but it still holds room for one more. 

“That’s where you’re gonna go!” Roslyn informs him.

Camille stares at her granddaughter in horror. She has just about as much tact and social grace as Richie ever did. Maybe even less. However, before Camille can properly scold her Mike lets out the loudest laugh she’s heard out of him since his mates passed. 

Mike ruffles Roslyn’s hair. “Beep beep, Rosie,” he says fondly. Camille’s heart hurts hearing the saying that was originally meant for her father. 

Roslyn, completely unaware of her faux pas, continues right on. “Are you scared, Grandpa Mike? Seems like it’d be really dark down there,” she says, peering at the wet earth as if she can see through the ground and into what will probably one day soon be Mike’s final resting place. 

“No, I’m not scared, sweetheart, when I go I’ll be with my pack again. Nothing to be scared of down there. Everything returns to the earth eventually.” 

“I’ll be with you in the earth someday?” Roslyn asks, climbing onto Mike’s lap. Camille’s told her to be careful countless times but she gets the impression Mike doesn’t mind the exacerbation to his old achy joints if it means holding his great-grandbaby. 

“Yeah, and I’ll be waiting for you,” Mike promises. 

Roslyn nods and nuzzles her head into his chest.

~

Not even a year later they lay Mike to rest. Jesse cries the hardest, and Camille wraps him in her arms and holds him close. He embraces her back in a death grip and breathes in the soothing scent of his pack leader. She lets her own tears fall freely and grieves with him. Mike may have been Jesse's dad but he was a father to all his pack kids and Camille feels distinctly that she’s lost the last of her parents. She feels Jesse's knees go weak and worries for a moment he’ll drop to the ground but as if sensing his need Zara is at his side in a moment, helping Camille support his weight, and then they’re holding him up together. 

Camille looks at Zara, checking on her pack, always checking on her pack. Zara’s tears fall silently. She’s always been the most stoic of the group during hard times, but Camille sees right through her. She puts a calming hand on the nape of her neck and Zara melts into it. Before she knows it Evie, her other half, is at her side. Then Theo at hers. Lucas and Friday complete the circle and they all stand there. Silently rocking back and forth. Mourning the last of their parents. 

Later Bug gives an absolutely heart wrenching speech. She has a way with words. Sometimes Camille thinks Bug didn’t speak for her first four years because she’s incapable of saying anything meaningless. They all spent their first years babbling and spewing nonsense, but Bug spent them thinking about what to say. And she’s evidently found it. Cracked some code the rest of them can’t. Because by the time Bug’s finished speaking everyone is laughing and crying, some of them doing a weird mix of the two, the laughter flowing into the crying like a river to sea and back again. Their sorrow echoes off the walls and Camille finds it oddly cathartic to mourn together so intimately, loudly, and freely with her family. They’re not just mourning Mike tonight, they’re mourning the end of a generation of their pack. They’re mourning the people who started this family.

~

Sometime even later when they’re in the living room of their well-loved childhood home, all a little drunk and a few of them a little high, some full of ice cream and comfort food and some on empty stomachs, Camille realizes she’s truly the leader of this pack now. Sure Bill died years ago and she’s been pack leader among her siblings for a long time now, but this is different. And for a moment she falters and worries she’s maybe not cut out for the job like her Uncle Bill was. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him not exude that calm pack leader energy, except maybe that one time Jesse got lost at the mall. 

But then Evie, her sister and the other half of her soul, is at her side, just like always, holding her hand, and letting her know she’s not doing this alone. 

She has her pack. Her family. 

Always.