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When Eddie pushed the door open and the rusty bells on the frame let out their corroded jingle, the smell of old paper and aged plastic wrapped around him with the familiarity of a skipping record. It wasn’t exactly his favorite corner of Hawkins, but ever since Steve had started with those impossible pregnancy cravings—first pickles with peanut butter, then crackers dipped in cranberry sauce, and now the glazed chocolate-chip donuts they only baked two streets away—Eddie had become an expert explorer of every corner of town in search of edible treasures for his Omega.
The bakery had been the first stop. A dozen donuts, still warm, whose sweet aroma wafted through the cardboard box he now held under his arm. The glaze was beginning to melt, leaving small translucent stains along the edges, and Eddie smiled to himself imagining Steve’s satisfied little grimace when he sank his teeth into them. That morning his Omega had been especially irritable, tossing and turning among the blankets of the nest they’d built together in their room, grumbling about his backache and the unbearable June heat.
Eddie had kissed his forehead, promised he’d be back soon with something sweet, and bolted out the door before Steve could ask him to bring back the moon, too.
But fate—or rather, his chronic inability to ignore a thrift store with a ‘liquidation sale’ sign—had steered him off course.
Just a minute, he told himself. Just a quick look.
Inside the store were metal shelves crammed with dusty books, boxes of scratched vinyl records, clothes that reeked of mothballs, and glass cases filled with cheap costume jewelry. Eddie wandered the aisles, his ringed fingers distractedly brushing the worn spines of old horror novels, when something on a dusty shelf near the back caught his eye.
It was a video game.
The box, a garish green that had definitely seen better days, had chewed-up corners and a crooked sticker announcing $2.99 in red numbers. On the cover, a pixelated character smiled beside a tiny house surrounded by equally minimalist trees.
«Life Simulator: Create Your Own Destiny», the title boasted in tacky gold letters. The back promised the most realistic simulation experience on the market, with screenshots of a virtual neighborhood where small characters interacted with one another.
Eddie turned the box over in his hands, examining it curiously. It wasn’t exactly the kind of game he usually bought—he was more of a D&D guy, into fantasy worlds with dragons and dungeons—but something about this little life simulator felt strangely appealing. Maybe it was the promise of control, of being able to build something from scratch. Or maybe it was simply that his brain, saturated by the worries of Steve’s pregnancy—the doctor visits, the expenses, getting the baby’s room ready, the endless lists of things they needed to buy—was craving a simple distraction.
The shopkeeper, an older man with thick glasses and a knitted sweater despite the heat, charged him the three dollars without even giving him a second glance.
"That game’s pretty addictive," he commented, sliding the box into a brown paper bag. "My grandson spent a whole summer glued to it. Says the characters seem real."
Eddie smiled out of politeness, though inside he figured the old man was probably exaggerating. He left the store with the donuts in one hand and the video game in the other, feeling ridiculously pleased with his little impulse buy.
The drive back was quiet. Hawkins in summer was a humid oven; the air clung to his skin like a second shirt, so Eddie rolled down the van’s windows the second he dropped into the driver’s seat. By the time he finally parked in front of their house—a modest two-story place Uncle Wayne had helped them buy, which Steve had turned into a warm, cozy home—the sun was beginning to sink over the horizon, staining the sky in oranges and pinks. Eddie grabbed his purchases and headed for the front door, absently whistling the riff from a Dio song.
The scent that hit him when he opened the door was so intoxicating his knees nearly buckled.
Steve was somewhere in the house, and his fragrance—that honeyed sweetness, vanilla and something deeply comforting that Eddie always associated with Sunday mornings and rainy afternoons—was seeping into every corner of the home. But now, heightened by the pregnancy, it was ten times more intense. It was like walking into a bakery in the early morning, when everything is freshly baked and warm.
Eddie felt his inner Alpha stir, satisfied, lulled by the presence of his mate and the pup growing in his womb.
"Stevie?" he called, nudging the door shut with his foot as he set the box of donuts and the game bag on the entry table. "I brought sugary reinforcements!"
He heard soft footsteps—shuffled, sluggish, the unmistakable gait of someone carrying six months of pregnancy—before he saw him appear down the hallway.
And damn it, even after all these months, Eddie still couldn’t believe that Omega was his.
Steve wore loose, comfy gray sweatpants that hugged gently under the prominent curve of his belly. One of Eddie’s old hoodies, faded and stretched by the growing belly, clung to his torso in a way Eddie found obscenely attractive. His chestnut hair—the hair Eddie loved to tangle his fingers in—was slightly mussed, as if he’d just woken from an impromptu nap on the couch. His cheeks were flushed, his brown eyes glowing with that warm light that always lit up his face when he saw his Alpha, and his lips curved into a lazy smile that sent Eddie’s heart rate straight to hell.
"Hey, Eds," Steve greeted, his voice soft and a little rough with sleep. "What’d you bring this time?"
"Glazed donuts and something else," Eddie replied, closing the distance between them in three quick strides.
He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist—or tried to, because the Omega’s belly already took up considerable space—and drew him in carefully, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss. Steve responded instantly, relaxing against his Alpha’s chest as his hands came up to tangle in Eddie’s dark curls. The kiss was slow, deep, and savored. Eddie felt Steve’s scent intensify, growing even sweeter, even richer, and a low purr escaped his throat.
"You smell incredible," he murmured against Steve’s lips, barely brushing them. "Like a cake fresh out of the oven. You drive me crazy, you know that?"
Steve laughed softly, a rough, satisfied laugh, while Eddie planted short kisses along his jaw, down his neck, to his scent gland, where his scent was most intense.
"It’s the hormones. The doctor said my scent would get stronger during the third trimester." He paused, tilting his head. "It doesn’t bother you, right?"
"Does it bother me?" Eddie pulled back just enough to look at him with feigned disbelief. "Sweetheart, I could get drunk on your scent all day and die happy. Honestly, if they ever invent a perfume that smells like you right at this very moment, I’d buy up every last bottle in the world."
Steve rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed a deeper pink.
"You’re an idiot."
"An idiot who brought you donuts," Eddie shot back, giving him one last kiss on the tip of his nose before letting go. "And a video game."
"A video game?" Steve arched his eyebrows, curious, as he followed Eddie to the entryway.
Eddie pulled the garish green box out of the paper bag and presented it with a dramatic flourish, as if he were unveiling a trophy.
"Life Simulator: Create Your Own Destiny," he read aloud, imitating a TV announcer. "Found it at a thrift store near the bakery. It was three dollars. Three fucking dollars, Steve!"
Steve took the box and examined it with a raised eyebrow. His expression was a mixture of skepticism and amusement.
"Three dollars..." he repeated slowly. "Eddie, have you seen the graphics on the back? They look like they were drawn with crayons."
"That’s why it’s so cool!" Eddie defended, snatching the box back. "It’s vintage, retro, it’s got class, and besides," he added, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. "It was dirt cheap, so you have nothing to worry about. Not a single cent of the baby fund was wasted on this whim."
Steve let out a little giggle, shaking his head.
"I wasn’t worried about the money, Eds. I’m just saying it looks like the kind of game Dustin would find fascinating."
"Well, Henderson has good taste, even if you hate to admit it." Eddie set the game on the coffee table and turned back to Steve, rubbing his hands together. "Now the important stuff: are you hungry? Is little Munson hungry?" He crouched down to the level of Steve’s belly, addressing the belly directly. "Huh, little one? Have you been making Mom ask for weird stuff again?"
Steve sighed, exasperated but undeniably amused.
"Don’t talk to my belly."
"Of course I’m talking to your belly, it’s my kid," Eddie replied, straightening up. "Besides, I have to start the indoctrination early. When he’s born, the first thing he’ll hear is Metallica. The second, a Dungeons & Dragons session. And the third…"
"The third will be the pediatrician telling you that babies shouldn’t be exposed to music that loud," Steve interrupted. "And now, are you gonna help me with dinner or are you just gonna stand there talking to my belly button?"
Eddie placed a hand over his chest, feigning indignation.
"Help you? Steve, honey, light of my life, you’re carrying my pup in your belly. You’re not doing a thing. You just sit on the couch, you eat your donuts, and I’ll handle everything."
"Eddie, I’m not an invalid. I can—"
"You can sit," Eddie cut him off, guiding him firmly toward the sofa. "You can put your feet up, watch TV, and eat donuts till your stomach hurts. But no, you cannot stand in front of the stove making dinner when you’ve got a mini-Munson kicking you in the ribs."
Steve looked at him with that particular expression he reserved for when Eddie got especially protective: a mix of exasperation, tenderness, and a hint of annoyance, all wrapped in a warm glow that contradicted his words.
"Good lord, you are insufferably overprotective."
"It’s my duty as an Alpha," Eddie declared, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. "Provide, protect, and make sure my gorgeous, pregnant Omega is always comfortable. It’s in the manual."
"There’s no such thing as a manual."
"It exists in my heart, baby. Right here," he said, tapping his chest.
Steve shook his head for the umpteenth time, but he let himself fall onto the couch with a sigh of relief. When Eddie handed him the box of donuts, he took one out and bit into it generously, closing his eyes in obvious pleasure as the glaze stuck to the corner of his lips. Eddie leaned in to wipe it off with his thumb, then brought his finger to his mouth.
"What do you want for dinner?" he asked, still tasting the sweet treat. "Any special requests? Any weird cravings I should know about?"
Steve stayed thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his belly over the hoodie.
"Actually… could you make that mac and cheese you love so much? The one with three different kinds of cheese."
"The one that gave you heartburn last time?"
"It was worth it."
Eddie smiled, shaking his head.
"Mac and cheese it is. Give me twenty minutes."
"And add corn and bacon bits!" Steve added, taking another bite of his donut.
Eddie got to work. He made dinner while listening to songs on the radio at medium volume, moving around the kitchen with ease and leaving the door ajar so he could glance at Steve every now and then. His Omega was stubborn, terribly stubborn, and ever since the nausea had subsided, he’d insisted on still doing the housework.
Eddie understood. Steve had always been independent, someone who took care of others rather than letting himself be taken care of. But things were different now. Now Steve was carrying their pup, and Eddie took his role as provider and protector very seriously, even if it meant doing the dishes so Steve wouldn’t have to bend over.
After dinner—Steve had seconds and even asked for double helpings—Eddie took care of the kitchen while Steve took a warm bath to ease his back pain. He picked up the dirty laundry from the bathroom hamper and threw it in the washing machine. He folded the blankets Steve had left scattered across the sofa after his nap. He checked that they had enough supplies for the next day’s breakfast. And when Steve came out of the bath, wrapped in a fleece robe and smelling of lavender soap, Eddie had already rearranged the nest in their bedroom with extra pillows, strategically placed so his Omega could sleep comfortably despite his ever-growing belly.
"You’re way too good to me," Steve murmured, leaning back against the nest pillows with a satisfied sigh.
"I’m exactly as good as you deserve," Eddie answered, kissing his forehead. "Now get some sleep, sweetheart. I’m gonna be in the living room for a bit, want to try out that game."
Steve nodded, already half-asleep, lulled by the soothing pheromones Eddie was releasing to help him rest. His breathing turned deep and even within minutes, and Eddie stayed beside him a moment longer, watching the moonlight filtering through the window trace soft shadows over his relaxed features.
I’m going to be a dad, he thought, not for the first time. I’m going to be a dad with Steve Harrington. How the hell did I get here?
With one last caress of his Omega’s hair, Eddie got up quietly and left the room, shutting the door carefully. In the living room, the video game was waiting for him on the coffee table, almost as if it were daring him.
Eddie dropped onto the couch, picked up the controller, and turned on the console.
The TV screen flickered and lit up with a simple but catchy tune. The main menu appeared in all its pixelated glory, with colorful blinking letters and options ranging from «New Game» to «Continue» and «Settings». Eddie selected new game without a second thought, and the game presented its first request.
"Please enter your details to create your character," he read under his breath, settling more comfortably on the couch.
A series of boxes appeared on the screen: name, date of birth, age, gender, occupation, likes, dislikes. Eddie blinked, surprised by the level of detail. It wasn’t common for a game this simple to ask for so much information. But hey, he supposed that’s why it was called a life simulator.
He diligently entered his information, creating a pixelated avatar that looked quite a bit like himself: Edward Munson. 22 years old. Musician and part-time worker. Alpha. Likes metal, role-playing games, his guitar, his friends, and Steve. Dislikes fake people, high school, social expectations, bland food, and anyone who looks twice at his Omega.
The game processed the information for a few seconds, and then a character appeared on screen. A simplified, pixelated version of himself, with long dark hair, a leather jacket—or the closest thing the limited graphics could offer—and a serene expression. The avatar smiled slightly as he stood in the center of what looked like a generic neighborhood.
ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ﹐ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ﹖
Eddie bit his lip, thoughtful. It would be fun to recreate the people he knew. That way he could see how they interacted in this little virtual world. His fingers moved quickly over the controller, selecting the option to create more characters.
The first, of course, was Steve.
«Name: Steve Harrington. Age: 21 years old. Occupation: currently unemployed because his Alpha insists he doesn’t work during the pregnancy. Gender: Omega».
Eddie smiled as he typed in Steve’s personality traits: loyal, brave, a little stubborn, protective, incredibly beautiful. Lover of children, strawberry ice cream, romantic movies (even if he won’t admit it in public), and his Alpha. Hates being called ‘princess,’ people who underestimate Omegas, early mornings, and the sound of an alarm clock. He carefully selected the thick chestnut hair, the honey-colored eyes, the defined jaw, the athletic build. Then he spent a perhaps excessive amount of time making sure his pixelated smile was exactly like Steve’s, that smile that always disarmed him.
Steve’s character appeared on screen. He wore a blue t-shirt and light-colored pants, and Eddie felt a pang of tenderness seeing him there, so small and pixelated, but unmistakably Steve.
He continued to create characters. Dustin Henderson, with his signature cap, his curls, and his infectious enthusiasm, tagged as «best friend, science genius, insufferably smart Beta». Gareth and Jeff, his high school bandmates, both Betas, both as passionate about music as he was. His Uncle Wayne, Alpha, «the best man I know, who raised me when no one else would, who taught me what it means to be a good Alpha».
Robin Buckley, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and he even ended up adding Erica, just because she still occasionally showed up to his D&D campaigns. And finally, after a moment of hesitation, he added Chrissy Cunningham, because he could never forget her, and even though she was gone now, he wanted a version of her to exist in this little virtual world. A happy, smiling Chrissy who could have the life she deserved. Omega. Kind. Wonderful.
ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪsʜ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ﹖
Eddie selected «yes», settling into the couch as the game loaded. The screen went dark for a moment, and then his avatar appeared in a small virtual house, standing in what looked like a living room. A basic tutorial explained the controls: move with the arrows, interact with objects and characters by pressing specific buttons, complete quests to earn money and reputation.
The first few days in the game passed with surprising fluidity. Eddie’s character left his virtual house, walked through the pixelated neighborhood, and ran into Dustin’s avatar almost immediately. The little sprite in a cap was standing in front of what looked like a school, and when Eddie approached to interact, a dialogue box appeared:
ᴅᴜsᴛɪɴ﹕ ʜɪ﹗ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ﹐ ʀɪɢʜᴛ﹖
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʏᴇᴀʜ﹐ ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ﹖
ᴅᴜsᴛɪɴ﹕ ɪ’ᴍ ᴅᴜsᴛɪɴ﹗ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ﹖ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ.
Eddie chuckled; even in a silly video game, his friendship with Dustin was destined to bloom quickly. He selected the option to accept the friendship, and a small heart icon appeared over Dustin’s character, indicating they were now friends.
"Look at that, Stevie," he murmured into the empty air, because Steve was still asleep in the other room. "Even virtually, I’m unstoppable at making friends."
The simulation continued. Eddie guided his avatar through the game’s first quests: he helped a neighbor with her groceries, fixed a broken fence, delivered a package. Every completed task earned him virtual money and reputation points, and Eddie discovered that the simplicity was strangely satisfying—watching his little pixelated double thrive was far too gratifying.
Soon, his avatar ran into Gareth and Jeff, who were gathered in front of a music store.
ɢᴀʀᴇᴛʜ﹕ ʜᴇʏ﹐ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇsᴛ. ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏʀᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ﹖
ᴊᴇғғ﹕ ᴡᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ. ʟᴏᴜᴅ. ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴏᴜᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇs.
Eddie on the couch grinned from ear to ear, accepting without hesitation. This was incredible. It was like watching an alternate version of his life, one where things were simpler, brighter, more controllable.
He completed several quests with them, earned enough money for a pixelated electric guitar, and even organized a concert in the neighborhood park. Then Uncle Wayne appeared, with his trucker cap and a cup of coffee.
ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ﹕ ʜᴏᴡ’s ɪᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ﹐ ᴋɪᴅ﹖ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ﹖
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʏᴇᴀʜ﹐ ᴜɴᴄʟᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ. ɪ’ᴍ ғɪɴᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ.
ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ﹕ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ﹐ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ.
Eddie swallowed hard. Even in a video game, his uncle’s words hit him right in the heart.
He kept exploring the virtual neighborhood, marveling at the amount of detail the game included. There was a library, a park with swings, a café where characters could gather. Eddie spent what felt like hours—though in reality it was probably a lot less—building his little virtual life, earning money, making friends, completing missions.
But eventually, his avatar ran into the character he was most interested in.
Steve.
He appeared in the game’s café, sitting alone at a table by the window. His sprite was small and charming, with chestnut hair falling over his eyes and a little cupcake in his hands. Eddie felt his heart give a small leap at the sight.
"There you are, gorgeous," he whispered, guiding his avatar over.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʜɪ. ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪғ ɪ sɪᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ﹖
Steve’s character looked up. His pixelated expression shifted subtly, and Eddie leaned forward, expectant.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ɪ’ᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ.
Eddie blinked.
"What?"
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴ﹐ ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ. ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ—
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ɪ sᴀɪᴅ ɴᴏ. ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.
A red icon appeared over Steve’s head. A little angry face. The game informed him that his relationship with Steve Harrington had decreased. Eddie stared at the screen, completely baffled.
"What the hell?" he muttered. "Why do you hate me, pixelated Steve?"
He tried again. Maybe he needed a different approach.
Eddie spent the next twenty minutes doing side quests, searching for items the Steve character might like. He found a book in the game’s library that seemed to be a genre Steve enjoyed. He bought a strawberry ice cream at the virtual store—because real Steve loved strawberry ice cream—and offered it as a gift.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜɪs﹖
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ɪᴄᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ. Sᴛʀᴀᴡʙᴇʀʀʏ. ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ …ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ﹐ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
The ice cream was rejected. The relationship decreased again.
Eddie frowned, feeling a stab of frustration. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. It was a damn video game. But he couldn’t help feeling a little dismayed. He’d created that character based on Steve, the Omega who was now sleeping peacefully in his nest with a tiny Munson growing in his belly. Why was the virtual version rejecting him so ruthlessly?
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Okay," he said out loud. "Okay, fine. At first the real Steve told me to fuck off, too, didn’t he? He wanted nothing to do with me and rolled his eyes every time I came near. So this is realistic. This is… pretty accurate."
He laughed at his own justification, but it worked. The frustration ebbed a bit, replaced by a renewed determination. If he’d won Steve Harrington over once in real life, he could do it again in a damn three-dollar simulator. It was simply a matter of persistence.
"I'm gonna win you over again, Harrington," he declared to the TV, pointing the controller at the pixelated character. "If it’s the last thing I do."
And so began Eddie Munson’s personal mission: to make the virtual version of his own Omega fall in love with him.
Over the next few days, a routine took hold. Eddie would get home from work—he worked at the record store downtown, a modest but steady job he’d landed thanks to Steve’s recommendation—and the first thing he’d do after walking through the door was look for his Omega.
"Stevie? Where are you, gorgeous?"
"In the living room," came the invariable reply, and Eddie would drop whatever he was carrying to go greet him.
The ritual was always the same, always perfect. Eddie would lean over the couch—or the nest, or wherever Steve happened to be resting—and capture his Omega’s lips in a welcome-home kiss. While he kissed him, his hands would instinctively travel to Steve’s swollen belly, stroking the firm curve through the fabric of his clothes.
"Hi, little one," he’d murmur against Steve’s stomach, pressing a kiss over his belly button. "Daddy’s home. Have you been good today? Have you been kicking Mommy a lot?"
"Too much," Steve would answer, sighing but smiling as his fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. "Your son has your same energy. He won’t stay still for a second."
"Obviously," Eddie would reply, straightening up with a smug grin. "He’s a true-blue Munson. He’s gonna be born with a miniature guitar and a Dungeons & Dragons manual."
"I’m not going to let the first thing he ever owns be a guitar," Steve would murmur, but his eyes shone with tenderness.
After the welcome-home kiss, Eddie would make sure Steve was comfortable, bring him anything he needed—water, snacks, the remote, a book, the glazed donuts if it was the right day—and then, invariably, he’d drop onto the couch next to the console.
"That game again?" Steve asked one afternoon, peeking out from the kitchen with a bowl of potato chips in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other—his current craving. "You’ve been glued to it for a week."
"It’s addictive," Eddie replied, not taking his eyes off the screen. "And besides, I’m on a mission."
"What mission?"
Eddie bit his lip, considering whether to share his little obsession. In the end, he decided Steve would find out sooner or later anyway.
"Winning you over."
Steve blinked, confused. He walked over to the couch and sat down heavily next to Eddie—with some difficulty, given his belly—and set the bowl of chips in the Alpha’s lap.
"Winning me over?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Eds, we’re already together. I’m pretty sure you won me over a long time ago." He gestured broadly at his belly. "Exhibit A."
"No, no, in the game," Eddie clarified, pointing at the screen. "I created your character, okay? A character based entirely on you. And I put him in the game’s neighborhood. But your character hates me. He rejects me constantly. He wants nothing to do with me."
Steve looked at the screen, where the little pixelated sprite of his own image was currently ignoring Eddie’s avatar completely in favor of reading a book in the virtual park.
"Wait," he said slowly, a smile beginning to curve his lips. "You made me in a video game and now you’re trying to hit on me?"
"It sounds pathetic when you say it like that," Eddie muttered.
"Because it’s pathetic," Steve replied, but he said it with such affection that it made his scent even sweeter, signaling that he actually found it adorable. "But it’s also very you. So… tell me. What’s been happening?"
Eddie sighed, leaning back against the couch while his avatar stood motionless on the screen, waiting for instructions.
"At first I thought he was just a bit withdrawn or something. But no matter what I do, your character rejects me. I offer him gifts, he turns them down. I ask him out, he says no. I try to talk to him, he gives me a dirty look. Literally, the game shows me an angry emoji every time I interact with him."
Steve dunked a chip into the ice cream and chewed it thoughtfully.
"Maybe he doesn’t like you because you’re too pushy. I didn’t like it when you were too pushy either, you know?"
"But I kept pushing and it worked," Eddie pointed out.
"It worked because I realized you were an adorable idiot, not a stalker," Steve shot back. "There’s a difference. Have you given him space? Have you let things flow naturally?"
"I’ve tried everything, Stevie," Eddie lamented. "I even showed interest in his hobbies and activities so he could see I’m not just thinking about myself… Nothing works. Your character just… hates me."
Steve burst out laughing, his whole face lighting up. Eddie looked at him, momentarily distracted from the game by the sight of his happy Omega.
"Eddie," Steve said, catching his breath. "It’s just a second-hand video game. Does it really affect you this much?"
"It’s a life simulator!" Eddie protested. "It’s supposed to simulate life, isn't it? And in real life, you and I are together. So in the game, we should end up together too. It’s a matter of principle."
"Principle?"
"Yeah, principle. I’m not going to let a stupid video game tell me I’m not good enough for you, not even virtually."
Steve watched him for a long moment, his expression softening. He set the ice cream aside, wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin, and then leaned into Eddie, resting his head on his shoulder.
"You know you’re more than enough for me, right?" he murmured against the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt.
Eddie swallowed hard. His arm instantly wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
"I know," he said, almost convinced. "It’s just… you know me. I get obsessed with things."
"And that’s why I love you." Steve lifted his head to look him straight in the eyes. "But you shouldn’t worry so much about a game character, Eds. At the end of the day, I’m right here, with you, smelling like potato chips, with your kid kicking me in the ribs. What more proof do you need?"
Eddie dropped his gaze to Steve’s belly, so round and obvious now, so real. He placed his hand on the curve, feeling the warmth radiating through the fabric, and almost immediately a small kick answered his touch.
"See," Steve said, covering Eddie’s hand with his own. "Even little Munson agrees with me."
Eddie let out a shaky laugh, emotion welling up in his chest.
"Okay, okay. You win. But I’m not going to give up on Steve in the game, alright? It’s a matter of pride."
"Your pride will be your downfall," Steve decreed, but he was smiling as he said it.
And so the days went on. Eddie kept playing every night, hell-bent on his virtual crusade. He tried different strategies: he got closer and closer to Steve’s character’s friends, he helped Robin’s character with little tasks around the neighborhood, he even organized a charity concert in the game’s park with his band to gain reputation. But nothing seemed enough to soften the pixelated heart of the virtual Omega.
But without a doubt, the worst part was when that character showed up.
Firstly, Eddie didn’t pay him any attention. He was just another non-playable character—one of those generic NPCs the game generated to populate the neighborhood. A tall, dark-skinned guy with vaguely angular features, appearing in the background of some scenes, barely registering to Eddie.
But then he noticed that Steve’s character was starting to spend time with him.
It was subtle at first. Steve’s sprite would show up in the virtual café, and the dark-haired guy was there. Steve’s sprite would stroll through the park, and the dark-skinned guy would walk beside him. Eddie frowned, uncomfortable, but told himself it was just coincidences of the game’s programming.
Until one day, while guiding his avatar down the main street of the neighborhood, he saw something that made his blood boil.
Steve’s character was sitting on a park bench, and the dark-skinned guy was right beside him. Very beside him. Too close. And when Eddie interacted with the scene to see what was going on, the dialogue box that appeared froze the blood in his veins.
...﹕ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ﹐ Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ﹖
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ …ᴏʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s… ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ.
...﹕ ɪ’ᴍ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs. ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜ﹐ ɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ﹖
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʜᴇʏ﹗
Eddie slammed the interaction button so hard he nearly broke the controller. His avatar burst onto the scene, abruptly interrupting the moment.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ﹖
Steve’s character looked at him with his usual expression of disgust.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴs ʏᴏᴜ.
...﹕ ʏᴇᴀʜ﹐ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ. ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɴᴅ﹖
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɪ ᴍɪɴᴅ. Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹐ ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴛʜɪs ɢᴜʏ﹖
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ᴀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’s ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ﹖ ʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ. ɪ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʜɪᴍ.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ Sᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ﹖ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴏᴡᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴs. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ﹗ ɪ’ᴍ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋs.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ. ɴᴏᴡ﹐ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇ ᴍᴇ﹐ ɪ ᴡᴀs ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ﹗ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴜʏ’s ɴᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ﹗
...﹕ ʜᴇʏ﹐ ᴘᴀʟ﹐ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ɴᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ғᴏʀ Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ﹗ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ﹗ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜs. ɪ’ᴍ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ.
Steve’s character stood up from the bench and walked away, leaving Eddie and the dark-skinned guy face to face. The character—whose name, according to the game, was simply Marlon—looked at Eddie with what the limited graphics managed to convey as hostility.
ᴍᴀʀʟᴏɴ﹕ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ɪs﹐ ʙᴜᴛ sᴛᴀʏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ. ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ﹖
ᴍᴀʀʟᴏɴ﹕ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ғᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋs. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ﹐ ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛs ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴏ. Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ… ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.
ᴍᴀʀʟᴏɴ﹕ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ sᴀʏs. ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ﹐ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ᴘᴜsʜʏ sᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ. ᴍᴇᴀɴᴡʜɪʟᴇ﹐ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇssɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴀɴ﹖
ᴍᴀʀʟᴏɴ﹕ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ɪ’ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ʜɪᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ. ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’s ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ʏᴇs. ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ. ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ. Sᴏ sᴛᴇᴘ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴏᴘ sᴛɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ.
Eddie was seeing red. Literally, his vision had tinted crimson. His hands were shaking around the controller, and a low, dangerous growl escaped his throat. It was an animal sound, instinctive, the growl of an Alpha whose Omega—virtual or not—was being threatened.
"Son of a bitch!" Eddie exploded in the empty living room. "Damn background character! You’re not even relevant to the plot! You came out of nowhere and now you want to steal my Omega!"
He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the TV while his mind boiled with irrational fury. He knew it was absurd. He knew he was getting angry over pixels and lines of code. But his inner Alpha didn’t understand technological nuances; his inner Alpha only saw a threat, a rival, someone trying to take what was his.
He tried to interact with Marlon’s character again, looking for some option to eliminate him, to report him, to do anything to remove him from the game. But there were no direct confrontation options. Marlon was a game character, programmed to exist, and there was no button that could make him disappear.
"This is ridiculous," he told himself, running his hands over his face. "Completely ridiculous. Steve is asleep in the other room. He’s carrying my child. We’re fine... this is just a game."
But when he looked back at the screen and saw Marlon’s stupid little smile, the growl returned.
Later, when Steve woke from his nap and joined Eddie on the couch—with another bowl of weird snacks, this time pickles with salt and hot sauce—he immediately noticed the shift in his Alpha’s scent.
"You smell like a storm," Steve commented, wrinkling his nose. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Eddie muttered, clenching his teeth.
Steve, of course, didn’t believe him. He scrutinized the TV screen with his eyes, taking in the frozen game scene. He saw his own sprite sitting at a table, virtual Eddie wearing a furious expression, and then a dark-skinned man smirking smugly.
"Eddie," he said slowly, an incredulous smile beginning to spread across his face. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You’re jealous," Steve repeated, and this time it was a statement, not a question. "You’re jealous of a video game character. A guy who doesn’t even have a real name."
"His name’s Marlon," Eddie snapped, and then mentally cursed himself because he’d just confirmed Steve’s suspicions.
Steve burst out laughing, holding his belly with both hands. He doubled over, laughing so hard that tears started to well up at the corners of his eyes, and his scent intensified until it filled the whole room.
"His name is Marlon!" he managed between laughs. "Oh my God, Eddie! You’re jealous of a character named Marlon!"
"It’s not funny," Eddie protested, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That jerk is trying to steal you. He came out of nowhere and now he’s asking your character out, and your character is considering saying yes, and I’ve been trying for weeks to get him to notice me and nothing works, and then this nobody shows up and…"
"Marlon!" Steve exclaimed, laughing even harder. "The guy’s name is Marlon!"
"Stop laughing!"
"I can’t!" Steve wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, his chest still shaking with little giggles. "Eddie, Eddie, are you seriously jealous of a video game character?"
"I already told you it’s a life simulator," Eddie repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms like a sulking child. "Your character shouldn’t have to prefer that idiot Marlon. What kind of realistic simulation is this?"
Steve finally managed to get his laughter under control, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement. He leaned toward Eddie, cupping his face with both hands, forcing him to turn his head and look directly at him.
"Eddie, look at me," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "At me, not the screen."
Eddie obeyed grudgingly, his dark eyes meeting Steve’s warm brown ones.
"What do you see?" Steve asked.
"I see you," Eddie replied, confused.
"Exactly. Me. Your Omega, the one wearing your mating mark on his neck. The one who’s six months pregnant with your pup. The one who wakes up every morning next to you and falls asleep every night in your bed." Steve’s hands slid from Eddie’s face to his shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Can a video game character really compete with all of that?"
Eddie swallowed, suddenly feeling very small and very foolish.
"No," he admitted. "But…"
"No buts." Steve interrupted him, his tone firm but affectionate. "Eddie, I get that you like that game. I get that you want everything in it to be perfect. But we already have perfection right here, you and me. Us. And this little one." He rested a hand on his belly. “What more do you need?"
"I just wanted to prove I could win you over," Eddie murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "That even in a different world, in a different life, you and I would still end up together."
"And that’s very romantic," Steve said. "But also unnecessary. You don’t need to prove anything, Eds. You proved it all when you stayed by my side after everything that happened in Hawkins, when you marked me as your Omega, when you gave me this pup.” He caressed his belly tenderly. "No video game in the world can top that."
Eddie fell silent, processing Steve’s words. His irrational fury began to dissipate, replaced by a surge of warm, overwhelming emotion. God, he loved this Omega so much it sometimes physically hurt.
"I love you," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I love you so damn much."
"I know," Steve answered, smiling. "I love you too, you jealous idiot."
And then he kissed him.
It was a kiss unlike any before. Deeper, more intense, more meaningful. Steve took Eddie’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs while his lips moved softly over his Alpha’s. Eddie responded with equal fervor, his arms wrapping carefully around Steve’s waist, avoiding pressing too hard against his belly.
When they pulled apart, both were slightly breathless. Steve rested his forehead against Eddie’s, their noses brushing against each other.
"Promise me you’ll stop obsessing so much over that game," he whispered.
"I can’t promise that," Eddie answered with a small smile. "But I can promise I’ll try not to let it get to me so much."
"I guess that’s the best I’m gonna get with you," Steve sighed, but he was smiling.
That night, Eddie kept playing, but something had changed. He no longer approached the game with the same obsessive intensity. Yes, it still bothered him to see Marlon hanging around the virtual Steve, but he reminded himself of his Omega’s words and managed to calm down. He started exploring other facets of the game: he upgraded his character’s house, expanded his virtual business, organized more concerts with his band.
The game had a lot to offer, he discovered, beyond his failed pixelated love story.
The months went by. Steve’s pregnancy progressed without complications, though the final months were particularly tough. Steve was constantly tired, his back ached, his ankles swelled, and the hormones turned him into an emotional roller coaster. Eddie stayed by his side without wavering, stoically enduring the impossible cravings, the sleepless nights, and that one time Steve cried for twenty minutes because he was craving an apple cinnamon pie and the pantry only had strawberry.
"You’re being way too patient with me," Steve said one night, curled up against his Alpha in the nest. His belly—huge and round like a planet about to hatch—rested against Eddie’s side. "I would’ve already filed for divorce from myself."
"I’m not being patient," Eddie replied, tangling his fingers in Steve’s hair. "I’m being what I’m supposed to be; your Alpha. The father of your pup. It’s the job you hired me for."
"Still, thank you."
Eddie leaned down to kiss the crown of his head, smiling against his hair.
"Always, Stevie."
The day of the birth was an earthquake in three acts: chaotic, terrifying, and wonderful. Eddie drove as if Death himself were hot on his heels, running red lights and grazing mailboxes, while Steve crushed his right hand with superhuman strength and unleashed a torrent of profanities.
"You told me this wouldn’t hurt!" Steve shouted during a particularly intense contraction.
"I never said that!" Eddie shrieked, panic spilling out of his eyes. "I said it’d be worth it, not that it’d be a pony ride!"
"I hate you, Edward Munson!"
"Don’t say that to me, honey! Just take a deep breath!"
The labor lasted twelve hours. Twelve eternal hours during which Eddie didn’t let go of Steve for a single moment. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, whispered absurd words of encouragement, and released so many calming pheromones that the room smelled like a bombed lavender field. And when finally the cry of a newborn tore through the air of the delivery room, Eddie felt his heart splinter into a thousand tiny shards.
"It’s a girl," the doctor announced, placing the tiny, wailing bundle onto Steve’s chest.
A girl. A little girl with a shock of dark hair—Munson hair, no doubt—and lungs surprisingly powerful for her size. Steve held her against him, exhausted but radiant, tears tracing tracks down his cheeks.
"Hi, little one," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Hi, my love."
Eddie leaned over the two of them, completely knocked out by the sight. His daughter. Steve’s daughter. Their little girl, so tiny, so perfect, so incredibly real.
"She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen," he managed to articulate.
"She looks like you," Steve murmured, smiling with a radiant weariness. "She’s the same puzzled look on her face as you do."
"Poor thing," Eddie joked, but his hand trembled as he reached out to brush the baby’s cheek.
The girl opened her eyes—brown, exactly like Steve’s—and Eddie was forever undone.
"Hi, princess," he said, his voice broken and his eyes misty. "I’m your dad, the weird one. The one who’s going to teach you to play guitar and how to play Dungeons & Dragons. But don’t tell your mom, he dreams of you being normal."
Steve let out a faint laugh, and it was the most beautiful sound Eddie had ever heard.
They named her Rosemary Munson. Rosie to friends, and to family, and to basically everyone. Wayne wept openly upon meeting his grandniece, and Dustin solemnly declared that he would be the best honorary uncle a girl could ever wish for—until Robin shoved him aside and reminded him that title was already taken.
The first days at home with Rosie were a whirlwind of sleepless nights, diapers, feedings every three hours, and an alarming amount of crying—democratically distributed between the baby and the parents. And yet, Eddie would later remember them as the happiest days of his life.
Steve turned out to be a natural mother, something Eddie had already suspected. He held Rosie with an instinctive confidence, sang her ridiculous songs while rocking her, and always, always knew exactly what the baby needed at any given moment. Eddie, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves with legs, living in terror of the possibility of breaking his daughter with a sneeze.
"You’re holding her like she’s a grenade without a pin," Steve observed one afternoon, finding Eddie with rigid arms and an expression of absolute panic.
"It’s just that she’s so tiny," Eddie whispered, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "So fragile. What if I drop her? What if I hold her too tight? What if…"
"Eddie," Steve interrupted, stepping closer to gently readjust Eddie’s arms. "You’re not going to drop her. You’re not holding her too tight. Look at her. She’s perfectly comfortable."
Eddie looked down. Rosie was watching him with her huge brown eyes, her tiny fist closed around his index finger. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t squirming. Just… staring, as if she were cataloging her father for future reference.
"Hi," Eddie said to her, utterly smitten. "Are you comfortable there, princess? Is Daddy holding you right?"
Rosie emitted a coo that Eddie interpreted as approval, and he felt himself melt for the hundredth time.
"I think she likes you," Steve commented, resting his chin on his Alpha’s shoulder.
"I’m her father. She’d better like me." He paused. "Steve, do you think I’ll be a good dad?"
Steve looked at him with those brown eyes that always seemed to see straight through him.
"You’re going to be an incredible dad, Eddie. The best. Rosie is so lucky to have you."
"I’m the lucky one," Eddie answered, his voice barely a whisper. "For having her, for having you, for all of this."
Steve kissed his cheek, and the world felt complete.
A few weeks passed before Eddie touched the video game again. Between feedings, diapers, and an exhaustion that went down to his marrow, he didn’t have the energy even to hold the controller. But one night, when Rosie finally surrendered after a particularly rough crying session and Steve slept in the nest with the baby curled up against him, Eddie found himself back on the couch in front of the TV.
The game was still there, waiting for him.
He turned on the console out of habit, loaded his saved game, and watched as his avatar appeared in the little virtual house. The pixelated neighborhood was exactly the same as always: colorful, simple, strangely peaceful. Eddie let his character wander without a clear goal, completing some side quests by inertia, chatting with his friends’ characters.
It wasn’t until he’d been playing for almost an hour that it happened.
His avatar was in the game’s park, sitting on a bench—ironically, the same bench where he’d witnessed the scene between Steve and Marlon months ago—when Steve’s character sprite appeared, walking toward him.
Eddie tensed instinctively, bracing himself for the usual rejection. But then, a dialogue box appeared on the screen:
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ʜɪ﹐ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ.
Eddie blinked. Hi? Steve’s character was saying hi to him? Voluntarily?
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʜɪ﹐ Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ﹖
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ʜᴇʏ… ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ﹖ ᴡʜʏ﹖
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ғᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ ғᴀɪʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ… ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
Eddie dropped the controller; the plastic slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"What?" he said out loud, completely stunned.
He picked up the controller again with trembling hands and got ready to follow the rest of the dialogue:
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ﹖
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ʏᴇᴀʜ. ɪ ᴍᴇᴀɴ﹐ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ғʟᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs. ɪ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ·ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ sᴀᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴘᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs﹐ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀʜᴏᴏᴅ﹐ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ɪ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ... ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ﹕ ᴡᴏᴡ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ.
Sᴛᴇᴠᴇ﹕ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴡ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ﹐ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀғᴇ́. ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋ.
Eddie stared at the screen, his jaw hanging open. Seriously? After all these months? After all the effort, the frustration, the irrational jealousy toward Marlon? Steve’s character was finally asking him out on a date?
"Steve!" he shouted, unable to contain himself. "Stevie! Come here! Quick!"
He heard a drowsy murmur from the bedroom, then shuffling footsteps. Steve appeared in the living room doorway with Rosie snuggled against his chest, deeply asleep and completely oblivious to the commotion.
"What’s wrong?" Steve asked, alarmed. "Is everything okay?"
"Look!" Eddie pointed at the screen, his face lit up by an ear-to-ear grin. “Look, Stevie! Your character asked me out! All on his own! After months!"
Steve blinked, processing the information. He looked at the screen with the pixelated dialogue glowing innocently. Then he looked at Eddie, with his expression of overflowing excitement. And then he looked back at the screen.
And then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Seriously?" Steve asked, rocking Rosie gently. "The Steve from the game finally caved?"
"Yeah!" Eddie was practically bouncing on the couch. "He said he was wrong about me, that he’s been watching me and he likes the way I am. Do you know what that means, Steve? Your virtual version finds me likeable!"
"That’s an impressive achievement," Steve conceded, clearly amused. "What are you going to tell him?"
"Yes, obviously!" Eddie was already typing the response on the controller, selecting the option to accept the date. "We’re going to have a date at the café. It’s going to be glorious. Virtual coffee, virtual conversations, and…"
"Eddie," Steve interrupted, his voice soft but laden with something deeper.
Eddie looked up from the controller.
"Huh?"
Steve nodded downward, toward the baby he held in his arms. Rosie was sleeping peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Then Steve lifted his gaze and looked Eddie straight in the eyes.
"All of this," Steve said, encompassing the room, the house, their entire life with a gesture. "Us, Rosie, our family... Did you really need a video game to confirm what you already have?"
Eddie let the controller fall onto the couch, the game forgotten for a moment. He stood up and wrapped both arms around Steve—carefully, always carefully, so as not to wake Rosie—and rested his chin on his shoulder.
"No," he admitted, his voice rough. "I don’t need it. But it feels good, Stevie. Even there, in that make-believe world, we found a way to be together. Isn’t that a little incredible?"
Steve shook his head, amused, and brushed a kiss against his cheek.
"What’s incredible is that I love you even when you’re a complete idiot."
"It’s part of my charm," Eddie answered, smiling.
Rosie stirred slightly in Steve’s arms, letting out a small whimper. Both parents froze, holding their breath, but the baby simply settled back down and kept sleeping.
"She thinks her parents are ridiculous," Eddie whispered.
"And we are," Steve confirmed. "But she loves us anyway."
"As it should be."
Eddie guided Steve back to the couch, helping him sit down with Rosie still in his arms. Then he regained the controller and returned to the screen, where the dialogue was still waiting for his response.
"Well," he said, settling in next to his Omega, "I’m about to have a virtual date with your character. Are you staying to watch?"
"I wouldn’t miss it," Steve replied, resting his head on his shoulder. "I want to see how you win me over all over again, but now in a video game."
"You’re the most critical audience I could have, sweetheart."
"And the only one that matters to you."
Eddie smiled, pressing the button to confirm the date.
"That’s true, Stevie. The only one that matters."
And as the two little characters walked together toward the virtual café, Eddie felt that everything was exactly as it should be. The game, real life, all of it. Not because it was perfect—the simulator was still a jumble of cheesy pixels, and life was still full of sleepless nights and dirty diapers—but because it was complete. He had his Omega, his daughter, his friends, his uncle. He had a home, a nest, a family.
And somewhere, inside a three-dollar video game bought on a whim, another version of him was beginning his own story with another version of Steve.
Sometimes, Eddie thought as he stretched out his free arm to wrap around his family, real life knew how to play its cards pretty well too.