When Luka finally pushed open the door to their bedroom, the familiar sight of a very pregnant Carter greeted him immediately.
His husband was curled around his pregnancy pillow as though it were the love of his life, one arm draped possessively over the oversized thing while his cheek rested against it. The pillow had become Carter's constant companion over the last few months, and Luka was fairly certain it ranked above him in the household hierarchy these days.
More times than he could count, Luka had woken up in the middle of the night only to discover he'd been slowly but surely exiled to the very edge of the mattress while Carter and the ridiculous pillow claimed the remaining ninety percent of the bed for themselves. He had never complained, though. Not once. Luka would happily sleep on the hardwood floor every night if it meant Carter got a few extra hours of comfort.
Still, he missed holding his husband while they fell asleep. Missed wrapping an arm around him. Missed feeling Carter curl against his chest. Missed the sleepy conversations they used to have in each other’s faces before exhaustion finally won.
Carter's dark brown hair was an absolute disaster, sticking up in every possible direction. Messy strands spilled across the pillow and over his face, creating a chaotic halo around his head that somehow only made him more adorable.
Luka had become surprisingly fond of the longer hair. There was more of it to run his fingers through, more of it to tug gently when Carter was teasing him, and it softened his features in a way Luka found impossible to resist.
Pregnancy suited him, too.
Carter constantly insisted otherwise. Nearly every day he complained that he looked exhausted, swollen, uncomfortable, or all three at once. Luka disagreed completely.
He had watched every tiny change happen in real time and had fallen in love with every single one of them.
The slight rounding of his face. The softness that had settled over his features. The way his body had changed to make room for the life growing inside him.
Most of all, Luka loved the quiet happiness that appeared whenever Carter thought nobody was looking. The absentminded smiles when the baby moved. The way his hand would drift automatically to his stomach. The tenderness in his eyes whenever he talked about their son.
Luka was certain he would love every version of Carter that existed. The version carrying their child was no exception.
His belly was enormous now.
Their son would be here before they knew it.
Unfortunately, Carter was very aware of that fact.
The closer they got to the due date, the more intense he became. Luka wouldn't call him insufferable—he loved his husband far too much for that—but Carter had definitely entered a new phase of nesting-induced panic.
For days he'd been talking almost nonstop about preparing the house.
The nursery needed to be checked again. The baby clothes needed to be washed again. The bottles needed to be organized again. Every conversation somehow circled back to another thing that needed doing.
The funny part was that everything had already been done.
Luka had built every piece of furniture in the nursery himself. He'd painted the room, decorated it exactly how Carter wanted, and then redecorated it several times when Carter changed his mind. He had assembled the crib, installed shelves, organized drawers, and set up changing stations throughout the house. He'd even created a bottle-station in the kitchen because he'd read that it made nighttime feedings easier. As far as Luka was concerned, they were ready. As far as Carter was concerned, disaster was perpetually moments away.
The sleepy voice immediately pulled him from his thoughts.
Crossing the room, he sat carefully on the edge of the bed and threaded his fingers through Carter's hair. The soft strands slipped easily between his fingers.
A sleepy hum escaped Carter.
"Missed you." His eyes remained closed as he leaned into Luka's touch, nuzzling against his palm. One arm reached out lazily, wrapping around Luka's waist and holding him there.
"Baby did too," Carter mumbled. "Kept kicking all day."
A quiet laugh escaped Luka as he slid his hand down from Carter's hair to rest gently against the huge curve of his stomach. Almost immediately, he felt movement beneath his palm.
"There you are." Another kick answered him. "Have you been giving your daddy a hard time, huh? Kicking him all day and not letting him rest?"
Carter made a soft noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan but his eyes didn’t open. He looked about two seconds away from falling asleep again.
Luka stayed where he was, unwilling to move. His fingers drifted back into Carter's hair, gently combing through the tangled strands while the room settled into comfortable silence.
Eventually, Carter's breathing began to even out. Luka just hoped he managed to get a few uninterrupted hours. Their son had been particularly active lately, apparently determined to practice every possible acrobatic maneuver at three in the morning. Night after night, Carter was woken by kicks, rolls, stretches, and whatever else a baby nearing the ninety-ninth percentile seemed capable of doing inside the womb.
It left him exhausted and sore. And increasingly impatient for the pregnancy to be over.
Luka understood. Thirty-five weeks of carrying a giant baby would wear down anyone. The back pain alone looked miserable. But despite knowing all that, a selfish part of him would miss this.
He would miss the round curve of Carter's belly. He would miss the strange cravings that sent him searching for increasingly ridiculous combinations of food. He would miss the way Carter no longer fit into most of his own clothes and had slowly claimed Luka's wardrobe as his personal property.
Like right now. Carter was wearing one of Luka's oversized sweaters and a pair of Luka's boxers that had somehow become Carter's favorite. The sweater stretched across his stomach, one of the few pieces of clothing that still managed to cover the entire belly without being tight.
Looking at him now—sleepy, warm, messy-haired, and curled protectively around both Luka and his belly—it was difficult to imagine loving him any more than he already did.
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