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He had felt it ever since they had entered. The indiscreet stares of the photographers and the odd curious client. Everyone in the salon had fallen into a sudden silence, as if they were witnessing an important event. Billy huffs, but does not back down. Instead, he keeps the door open for his partner to come in.
That is when the whispering begins.
Because, of course, one thing is to see an omega going to his first maternity photo session. Another is for that same omega to come not once or twice, but five times. All at the same photography agency. It was to be expected that more than one would be interested or, at the very least, intrigued. And listen, don’t blame him; it’s John who insists on keeping coming, and he, being the good husband that he is, doesn’t have the heart—or the guts—to deny anything to his precious and hormonally unstable omega.
The blond, unlike him, seems amused by the tension in the air and the different pheromones in the atmosphere—barely perceptible; they had surely sprayed neutral air fresheners to avoid future inconveniences. He doesn’t hesitate to latch onto his bicep with one hand while with the other he caresses his round six-month belly with the same pride as the first time.
“How can I—?” the receptionist was about to ask them, but once she saw them in front of the counter her expression changed, turning mischievous instantly. “Oh, you arrived on time. Graham is already waiting for you.” She typed something quickly on the computer. “By the way, you look radiant today, Mr. Gillman.”
“Thank you very much, dear.” The aforementioned replies with a naturalness that betrayed a certain pride at the attention received, while he remained still and silent, trying to focus his attention on anything that wasn’t the growing intrigue of the others in reception at the presumed familiarity between the staff and them.
“You too, Mr. Butcher.” Now the beta woman directed her attention to him. “How is little Ryan?”
Butcher shrugged, trying not to appear tense because of the presence of the other alphas in the room or to release dominant pheromones by accident—John had forbidden it ever since his natural scent had started to make him nauseous in the third month of pregnancy. “Ah, he’s fine. Next year he starts school.”
“And Lena?”
“Busy at daycare.” the alpha answered again.
“And Lori?” The beta’s smile only grew with mischievous amusement at each name.
He was about to answer again, but John beat him to it, quite excited to take part in the conversation as well and, well, what was wrong with showing off his little ones a bit?
“She started daycare a little while ago. Oh, the poor thing wouldn’t stop crying the first day, right Billy?” he said dramatically and turned to look at him with those big blue eyes.
“We had to go pick her up after two hours. The daycare people couldn’t do anything to calm her down.”
“But now she can go without any problems. She’s a big girl now!” the omega concluded, puffing out his chest with pride for his pup. The receptionist nodded in a moved gesture.
“Oh, I’m so happy for you. And Leonard?”
“With his paternal grandmother.”
“And…?” She left the question open, glancing again and again at the omega’s belly. He was about to launch into one of his dramatic and enthusiastic monologues to explain the pregnancy in detail when the alpha, impatient, cut him off with a:
“I think we’ve had enough questions for today.”
Which made the blond look at him with annoyance and the receptionist blush with embarrassment.
“A thousand apologies! It’s just that it’s exciting to have you here again.” She apologized and pointed to the door at the back that led to the studio. “You can go in now.”
The rest of the morning once they crossed into the studio was another kind of psychological torture for Billy, because even though it was only the three of them, just like with the receptionist, John wouldn’t stop talking and talking about his children with the photographer, who also didn’t refrain from asking questions to keep the conversation going and every now and—very—then threw him knowing looks or comments at the other alpha in the room.
He sure felt the urge to use one of his nicotine patches, or to punch that guy in the face, but he held back, because despite his discomfort he didn’t want to ruin his husband’s illusion.
Besides, he won’t deny that deep, deep, deep down he also feels a certain pride and amusement at seeing him take any opportunity to show off his family to anyone.
By the time the photo session ended and they left the place under the murmurs or entertained stares of the people in reception the sun was already setting. But by this point Butcher could no longer blame them. The agency people could no longer pretend because, definitively, he managed to keep that sweet and stubborn omega pregnant.