The artificial Sun has barely touched the horizon and they're just... there. A group of little ones from his youngest class chirp at him in their bio-dome suits, the less coordinated of them rocking back and forth in little xenonite hamster balls.

The teacher just stares and listens to the chorus of little clicks and stomps (read: angry taps, the heaviest of them is 20 lbs in the dome) for a second. He has to be dreaming—a messed up nightmare where someone abandoned five entire children on his doorstep before he's even had a cup of coffee.

Rubbing his eyes and pinching his arm doesn't make the little guys go away. Any other day he'd go grab Adrian or Rocky from the bedroom, but the pair are off at a science conference a few cities over and won't be back until that night at the earliest.

"Parent said give this to Mr Teacher Grace," the largest of them, Orange, bonks his right calf with a tablet.

Grace takes it and squints, tracing his fingers over the writing. It's fluent, true Eridiani written with elegant penmanship—not the pidgin he's fluent in. There's an attempt to break apart certain words, but most of it is incomprehensible.

♮! Grace-Doctor-Savior-Captain-Teacher-AdrianRocky-Mated𝄐 ... ♮. Parent back by λV̶.V̶V ... ♯ ? Erid teacher ... Dome ... Already fed ... ♮ !Thank you𝄐

Like Grace has been doing since he met his first Eridian at Tau Ceti, he shrugs, says, "what the heck, sure," and goes with it.

Orange, Marble, Burrata, Turnip, and Plum are great students. Some one-on-one time would be good for everyone. It's an honor to be trusted like this, really.

He can handle 5 free-roaming pebbles for 24 hours.

"Please, come on in," he smiles and bows with the confidence of a man who has only ever done this through the auditorium's thick barrier.

Grace thinks this might have been easier if more than one of them could form actual sentences. Orange happily points and says a few words, but the others just stomp and chirp nonsense that kind of translates as emotion in the human's mind.

By the time the marine layer fogs the windows, he's sure his baseboards are never going to be the same. The biggest in their xenonite suit has clipped the hallway corner enough times that there's a chip taken out of it. There's a reason Orange is still in his youngest group—they're incredibly bright and creative, but they're still working on the locomotor skills needed to execute those ideas.

His ankles are bruised from the balls hitting them. Not stepping on them becomes a challenge. It's like bumper cars, but Grace is a giant in the middle of the track that was once his kitchen.

Grace gets a moment of peace from placing them into the nest in the bedroom. The stair platforms Rocky and Adrian take turns sitting on surround the mattress the human lays on, creating a little fenced in nook. It works great for watching each other sleep, but it's purpose now becomes pebble jail. Four of them settle down and starfish easily, snuggling down with happy little chirps that squeeze his heart. Burrata gets their little legs tangled in a blanket and the resulting struggle is like watching someone try to pick up noodles with chopsticks for the first time. Grace feels so bad that he lets them all back out.

It isn't until the sun is fully in the sky that he decides to integrate them into his day and go about as normal.

The kids get beckoned into one of the sleds for transporting his teaching equipment to the amphitheater. It takes at least ten minutes to get them all down to the garden—he ends up putting marble in his pocket—without them falling out.

They're all eager to help and soon he's on his knees in the dirt, surrounded by an excited thrum.

"I don't know what the word for this is," Grace pats the bundle of what he can only describe as a zucchini-carrot cross hanging off a large stem, "but it doesn't kill me, so."

"♮?♫♪♩𝄐" Orange's claw points and there's an agreement from the rest of the group.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Plum points at Grace, back to the vegetable, and then back to the human. They punctuate a rumble with two little stomps of a back leg.

Grace knows that one. He takes out the small notebook he keeps in his back pocket and unclips the heavy charcoal pencil on the cover.

"On Earth it's kind of like a zucchini. It's more," Grace gestures towards his mouth with the pencil, "sharp to my mouth. Which is fine, that makes it taste different than other things. Humans need variety."

"Sharp," Marble echoes. They jazz two hands clumsily and Grace tries to keep a straight face, but it's a little like watching a meatball become animated for the first time.

He coughs and starts digging the charcoal into the paper, "Now, I'm by no means an artist..."

Gardening turns into making pickles. Grace is a little jealous that the pebbles learn anaerobic respiration faster as kindergartners than he did as a freshman in undergrad. They parrot back the Eridani words for some of the concepts, but they're honestly more excited about the bubbles than they are learning about heterofermentative processes and decarboxylation.

Making pickles turns into watching Grace cook, which becomes it's own chemistry lesson. Orange sits on the counter and Plum, Marble, and Burrata go in the fruit bowl. Turnip bravely conquers fire and Grace helps them use a spatula to flip a piece of bread in the pan.

Once they're knowledgeable about the wonders of sandwich creation, they politely banish Grace to the soundproof bedroom while he eats. Normally he eats over a lesson plan or movie on his laptop, but listening out for any pebble xenonite-ball accidents keeps him entertained.

He's expecting a three Eridian pile up, but it never comes.

Grace finishes eating and goes out to check on his houseguests to find them all tuckered out around the coffee table. He plucks them up one by one and puts them back into totally-not-pebble-jail for safe keeping during quiet time. It's a task done in a few quick trips—Grace has dumbbells heavier than Orange. Marble and Plum can both fit in his arms.

There's protest when he goes to put Turnip down, so he settles down with them on his side. It takes a little work to find a position in the bed that doesn't crush anybody, but soon all five pebbles scoot up against their teacher. Grace takes the quilt from over the closest platform and covers the lot of them. Burrata scoots up to below his chin to avoid another incident, and the warm xenonite against his skin has Grace's breathing growing heavy.

Quietly, the front door shuts and two pentads of claws click across hard floor. The taller of the pair starts to sing Grace's name, but is quickly interrupted with an angry stomp.

"Adrian will sleep on couch if wake mate-Grace," Rocky trills and pokes his partner's arm through the xenonite suit. "Rocky put things away, mates stasis together."

The taller Eridian scuttles off to the far side of the bungalow, quietly rumbling as they take in the uncharacteristic mess of the place.

Rocky sets down a heavy bag of trinkets from their travels on the table and hums quietly at the thought of Grace opening them tomorrow morning. They'd been bickering over a "backsplash" for the human's food preparing station for awhile, and he had found a beautiful cut of intricately patterned xenonite at the market that Grace should love.

A high pitched whistle from Adrian has Rocky scrambling out of his thoughts.

"Song, come quiet."

Blunt claws slide across the smooth floor as the shorter Eridian shoots over, frantic clicks bouncing off the soundproof wall their human insisted on in their own home. It's not quiet, but it's urgent.

"Mate-Grace okay, question?"

He slides into Adrian's with a hollow thunk. Rocky stomps worriedly, rumbling and pausing when the sleeping body of their mate bounces back with five little shapes.

"There's pebbles in our nest, song."

They rumble and click together in the doorway for a moment. Rocky's hum picks up, gently thrumming against their mate. The connection buzzes with life—adoration, pride, want. The mates' contentedness echos across the space, kept a piano symphony to not wake their sleeping third.

"Grace very good with them," Rocky chimes with a low whistle and steadies himself against Adrian. "Mates very lucky."

Adrian hums with interest, tapping two claws together in thought. They still the movement and bring their hand up to their mate's carapace, gently petting the scarred surface through the thin layer of xenonite.

He didn’t think much about church visitors, since most that did come were usually family members of the regulars. They would sit with their relatives and were gone the next week.

However this new face- or new head he supposed, since he couldn’t see their face- sat alone. 

The woman, whose shoulders were bundled in a green sweater, sat quietly. She didn’t talk to anyone, just observed the slow trickle of people shuffling to their seats. Maybe she was waiting for someone to show up?

As the minutes ticked by and she continued to sit alone, Lars wondered if she was just passing through and wanted to stop and attend a quick sermon before she continued on her way.

When the priest got up to stand behind the pulpit, Lars stopped worrying about the lonely stranger and turned his attention to the homily.

He didn’t get a chance to see what happened to her after that, hurrying out of the chapel once the service was over to rush home. Karin and Gus were going out for lunch and they needed someone to watch their daughter. Lars was happy to say yes, caring greatly for his little niece. He still wasn’t quite confident in his abilities as an uncle but he didn’t feel pressured to be perfect around her so he had no issues babysitting.

Lars forgot all about the stranger until he saw her again the next Sunday in the same spot, still alone. He didn’t make any move to go sit with her- he wasn’t the ‘go up to a person you don’t know and get to know them’ type of guy- but he paid a little more attention to her through the hour.

She seemed content there by herself, if Lars read the back of her head right. Most people he observed alone would fidget, feeling awkward and out of place by themselves, usually finding a pew to sit on with others already occupying it and striking up a conversation. It was just a human thing, Dagmar told him once. Lars couldn’t really relate. While he was starting to enjoy the company of others, he didn’t feel awkward sitting in church alone. It was peaceful. Maybe this stranger felt the same.

Once the service was over and the congregation began walking out, Lars hung back a little longer than normal. He watched quietly as groups of neighbors walked down the center aisle towards the door, offering him a smile or a ‘good morning’, which he would return with a tight smile of his own and a nod.

The stranger also took her time, not seeming to be in any rush to get home or to whatever she did after church, standing only after more than half of the crowd had left. A coat that had been draped over her lap appeared in her hands and she carefully pulled her arms through the sleeves.

Lars averted his eyes when she shuffled out of the pew to leave, not wanting her to think he was some sort of creep when she turned around to leave the church.

He expected her to walk right past him, to not acknowledge that she even knew he was there. Most visitors did. But when she came to a stop next to the pew he sat in, Lars lifted his eyes from the floor.

Pretty, was his first thought. Bright eyes, soft smile, nice face. She looked around his age. It was rare to see a younger new face in town. Her coat was large, almost hanging over her knees and kept in place around her torso with her hands that sat tucked in the pockets. It looked warm, he thought. A good winter coat.

“Excuse me? Sorry to bother you, but could you give me directions to the hospital?”

Lars’ eyes widened in surprise and a little fear. She quickly shook her head in panic when she realized what he might be thinking. “I’m fine! I just have an appointment in one of the smaller clinics there. I’m new to town so I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the city’s layout.”

That was a relief. Lars didn’t know what he would’ve done if this stranger started having a medical emergency right in front of him.

“Okay,” Lars nodded after a moment of hesitation. Not because he didn’t want to help but because he was trying to piece together why he got butterflies when she looked at him.

If she was put off by his quiet, one-worded response, she didn’t say anything. She stepped back a bit to let him exit his pew and lead her back to the doors where most everybody had already left. Her soft smile never wavered.

Once outside, Lars stepped down the stairs a little faster than he normally would out of nervousness. He didn’t often talk to people he didn’t know. It was a only simple query for directions. She followed, albeit a little slower and trailed Lars as he moved out to the curb. She followed his gloved finger when he pointed down the street.

“You, um-” He cleared his throat softly, hoping he sounded a bit more confident than he felt. “Take a left on the street with the laundromat. Down there. The white and blue building. That’s 5th street. And then go a couple of blocks west. It’ll be on the right.”

The stranger nodded along, mentally mapping her route while he spoke and giving him another grin when his words tapered into silence.

“Thank you! I probably would’ve gotten lost if I tried to find it on my own so I owe you one. It’s nice to meet you…?”

Lars gave her a closed lip smile while she spoke, blinking once she trailed off. It took a second for him to realize she was waiting for his name.

“Lars.”

“Lars,” she repeated. Lars liked the way his name sounded when she said it. “I’m (Y/n). It’s nice to meet you! I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.”

Giving him a tiny wave with her pocketed hand, she walked off towards a small white vehicle that must’ve been hers. Lars stood for a second longer, watching her back before nodding to himself and turning towards his own car.

. . .

She wasn’t at church the next week. Or at least, when Lars settled in his pew, he didn’t see her. 

Maybe she was sick or had another appointment at the hospital? He probably didn’t scare her away from church, did he? He couldn’t think of anything he did or said that would’ve offended her. 

His thoughts swirled as he watched the regulars take their seats. Maybe she’d moved? Maybe her plans had changed and she had to skip town? Yeah, that was probably it. Or maybe she just didn’t attend church every Sunday, which was ok too.

“Can I sit with you, Lars?” Lars squeezed his hands into fists in surprise and looked to the aisle next to him. (Y/n), donning the same coat as last time, gave him a smile and gestured to the empty bench next to him. “Unless you’re saving it for someone?”

“No, you can sit.”

Lars scooted down a little more, even though there was plenty of room for her already and watched as she side-stepped closer. When her coat fell from her shoulders and she carefully settled onto the wooden bench, Lars noticed something he hadn’t before.

The sweater she wore this week, a cream colored cable knit, was loosely fit around her body- oversized around her shoulders and torso until reaching her midsection. The fabric was slightly bulging there, the near perfect roundness underneath it clued Lars in to what the sweater tried to hide. Her coat had obscured it from view last week. The appointment at the hospital had probably been for the baby.

(Y/n) noticed his gaze and smiled softly, bringing a hand up to gently cradle the bump.

“It’s a boy,” her voice was soft amidst the still bustling congregation- reverent. “Just a few more months now.”

Lars didn’t have the same reservations about pregnancy that he had a couple of years ago. 

Karin’s pregnancy had gone smoothly- no complications and a healthy baby girl in a quick couple of hours. The relief that Lars had felt once he got the news that mom and baby were in good health was insurmountable. It helped heal the part of him that was terrified to lose someone he loved from the process like he had when he was born. Of course, there was always a chance for something to go wrong, but he didn’t feel that crushing terror anymore.

“Congradulations,” Lars twisted his gloves in his hands.

“Thank you! I’m very excited to meet him. Do you have any kids?”

Shaking his head, Lars couldn’t stop himself from continuing to glance at the bump. “No. Just a niece.”

(Y/n) didn’t get a chance to respond before the priest addressed the room and they filtered into silence. Both turned their heads to the front and quietly listened to the sermon like they had the past 2 weeks, but this time Lars was even more distracted. Every brush of her hand over the bump, every touch or rub of her thumb caught his eye. He yearned to know more about her and her life even more now, but didn’t know how to word it.

Once an hour was up, Lars realized he hadn’t paid attention at all to what had been preached that day and he didn’t really care. Instead, he quickly stood before (Y/n) could and offered a helping hand under her forearm when she moved to get up. Her smile was radiant and Lars felt his cheeks turn a shade darker. In fact, his whole face felt like a heater. With the layers of fabric between the two of them, Lars knew the pain from touching her wouldn’t be too bad so he hadn’t thought twice about the contact. He was surprised when it didn’t burn at all. 

Lars let go once she was steady, but stayed close by as she shrugged her coat back on and meandered from the pew and down the aisle. He was hot on her heels, carefully watching her footing and hands twitching at every step just in case she managed to trip. The stairs outside of the chapel were suddenly more dangerous than Lars ever thought they were. Despite the hoard of people around them, Lars walked slowly and didn’t care if they were being a little obstructive. He wasn’t about to rush her.

“Thank you for letting me sit next to you today, Lars! It’s nice to get to know someone else in town besides my doctor.” (Y/n) joked, taking a couple of steps away from the church entrance and turning to face him. Lars gave a questioning smile.

“You have no family here?”

“Nope,” she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. Lars looked at her exposed sweater. “My great grandma owned the house that I moved into but she passed away a while ago. The house has been sitting empty ever since so when I needed a new place to live, my uncle who inherited the house offered it to me for the time being. At least until I’m able to get my feet under me. But no, none of my family lives around here.”

Lars’ brows scrunched and he blinked a couple of times “You’re alone? What about… when you have the baby?”

A weak shrug. “We’ll be ok.”

Lars didn’t believe her. Karin had a village of people to help when she had her baby, and it still took months before she was able to get any proper sleep. Keeping the baby fed and changed and soothed was already hard enough. But then there’s feeding and taking care of yourself and the house. Appointments, finances, keeping a fire going. Lars saw firsthand just how much one 8 pound baby could affect several lives. He didn’t think one person could go through that alone. 

“Do you have things? For,” a small gesture to your stomach. “him?”

“I’ve got a couple of things already but I’m hoping to thrift the rest. Maybe get some help from the church if I can work up the courage to ask,” she laughed.

Lars scratched at the back of his neck. He wanted to offer some of Karin and Gus’ old things but that wasn’t his place. The stuff didn’t belong to him and what if they wanted more kids so they had planned on keeping what they had?

“I’ll be ok, Lars. Promise. I wouldn’t have moved away if I didn’t think I could handle this alone.”

He wanted to push. He wanted to know what she was moving away from. But that wasn’t his place either.

“I’ll see you next week? Save me a seat?”

A week felt too long. “Ok but- can you zip?” (Y/n) stopped her half step away to look at him in confusion until he made a motion in front of him like he was zipping a zipper. “The baby could get cold.”

“Oh!” She laughed and fumbled with her coat, carefully zipping the sides together and effectively hiding the bump underneath the fabric. Lars relaxed a bit, knowing the baby was warmer now. “Bye Lars! Have a good week!”

His response was barely above a whisper. “You too.”

. . .

You decided pretty fast that you liked this new town.

It was small, but everyone seemed friendly and it was a nice change of pace to the constantly bustling life of the city you’d come from where everyone was yelling and honking at each other in the streets, screaming profanities about something or other. This town was quiet. No honking, no shouting. Just the soft breath of wind and the hum of cars rolling down the street at a leisurely pace. 

It was a little very cold and snowy but you could see yourself spending a while here. You could see yourself raising your son here.

Going to church was one of the highlights of your week. Not because you were extremely religious but because you just liked seeing people. It was pretty lonely in your little house and since you had yet to find a job that would hire you for two months, you didn’t get much social interaction. While you didn’t really talk to anyone at church, just being around the congregation was enough.

The second week of attending, you realized halfway through the service that you had no idea where the hospital was. Being just over 6 months pregnant meant appointments were becoming more frequent to check your baby’s growth. After transferring your records from your old OBGYN, the new doctor wanted to see you right away to become familiar and check your progress. You meant to bring along the small slip of paper that had the hospital’s address written on it but had forgotten it on your fridge (pregnancy brain was your excuse). 

Asking someone for directions was going to be your next best bet so once the sermon was over and you stood to leave, you began scoping the remaining crowd for someone who looked approachable. 

The man you spotted in a pew a couple of rows back seemed nice enough. He had a soft face and sat bundled in a thick blue and cream coat. The brown hair on his head was gelled and his mustache was trimmed. He had a good vibe about him.

His surprise when you asked him for directions was cute. When he spoke, he spoke softly- so gently, it was almost hard to hear. A nice change of pace compared to the man you had the displeasure of being around for the past couple of years. The man, who you learned to be named Lars, was shy. You could tell he was a quiet person and you honestly felt a little bad for picking him out of everyone in the church to ask for directions out of the blue, but he’d done so despite his visible uncomfortableness.

The next week, when you asked to sit next to him, you half expected him to say no. You mentally prepared yourself for him to say no. But he’d nodded and scooted down to give you some more space.

His obvious shock and interest in your baby was sweet. It didn’t seem malicious in any way, just curious wonder. You felt his eyes swivelling your way for most of the sermon, but you found that you didn’t mind at all. Lars was the perfect gentleman as you left- helping you to your feet, sticking close to your back while you walked and walking side by side with you as you hobbled down the stairs- a constant, solid presence. 

When Lars asked you to zip up your coat, you couldn’t help but smile. While you hadn’t been zipping your coat up the past couple weeks, due to the horribly unflattering shape it made you when it was zipped up over your protruding stomach, it warmed your heart to see the care in his eyes once you did. He’d mentioned he had a niece, maybe he just adored kids? You made a mental note to ask him next week.

. . .

You don’t have to wait a week until you see Lars again.

After over three weeks of living in your new home, you’d run out of essentials. Body care items were one use away from empty, you needed a food restock and the cleaning supplies you'd brought with you had run dry after spending weeks cleaning up the rundown home. Plus, there were some baby items you wanted to nab before too long, just in case the baby decided to make a faster appearance than what you were ready for.

There was really only one store in town, so that was where you found yourself one afternoon, a shopping cart full of items and now perusing the baby aisles.

Diapers were one thing you were stockpiling, newborn sizes and a couple sizes up. From the suggestion of a friend, you were hunting down a specific brand and of course the brand had to be on the highest shelf. What employee thought putting diapers on a high shelf was a good idea?

Hand resting over your bump, you considered stepping onto the shelves but decided against it to save yourself and the baby from a fall. There were no employees in sight, nor were there other shoppers in your aisle. 

Sighing under your breath, you moved to start pushing your cart towards the front of the store. The diapers could wait another week. A familiar face passed by the mouth of the aisle before you could take a step.

“Lars!”

The tall man halted in his tracks to look your way. He had a half gallon of milk in his hand and had on a similar outfit that he wore to church- coat, scarf, gloves and shin-high boots- but his hair looked a little more ruffled. It fit him. Lars wandered your way, gave your belly a cursory glance and smiled softly. He followed your finger when you pointed to the box of diapers you wanted.

“Could you grab one of those boxes for me? The 1’s? I’m not tall enough and don’t want to risk climbing the shelves.”

Lars looked a little terrified that you’d even thought about doing that. The shelves were no match for his height, mustachioed man easily snagging a box and tucking it under his arm. 

“You can put it under the cart!

He made no move to do such a thing. “You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things.”

The box of diapers couldn’t have weighed more than 5 pounds; it wouldn’t be a backbreaker to pull the box from the bottom of your cart to scan once you reached cashier, but Lars seemed pretty adamant. You would’ve told him to put it in the cart but it was full enough already and would most likely topple out. 

Lars was a quiet mountain next to you while you went to check out, helping you load your stuff up on the belt and reloading your cart back once everything was scanned and bagged. He didn’t say anything when he took over the duty of pushing the cart and followed you out to your car, gently stacking your bags into your trunk.

“Will you be ok at home?” His brows were scrunched in worry, eyeing the heavier items.

“Yes, I’ll be ok. I promise. A gallon of milk won’t kill me.”

He nodded, more to himself than anything, then opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more. It took a couple of seconds of inner turmoil to actually say what was on his mind. “I told my brother and sister-in-law about you.”

You adjusted your sweater where it was starting to bunch up over your belly. “Oh?”

“Um… they wanted me to bring some of my niece’s old baby things for you. If you want them. Mostly clothes but there’s some other things too. Like a crib and stuff.”

“Really?!” You reached out to snag a hand in the silky material of his coat. Lars was surprised when he didn’t flinch. “That would be amazing! I’ll make them cookies or something- whatever their favorite desert is, I’ll make it! I can pay them too-”

“No, they said it’s a gift.”

“Ok! Yeah, you can swing by whenever, I’m not busy most days. How about tomorrow?”

. . .

Lars decided immediately that he liked your house.

The outside was a little worse for wear, but the inside was cozy and inviting. It was a small place, especially with the added hoard of baby things he’d delivered, but it didn’t feel suffocating. Lars was used to small houses anyway, he lived in one, but yours felt much more like a home. Warm lighting, plants, soft looking pillows on the couch.

You were ecstatic when you opened the door to Lars standing on your front stoop, a large box held in his arms and shuffling on his feet. He gave you a soft hello in greeting and a small smile when you waved him inside. It made his stomach erupt in butterflies seeing how happy you were to see him.

The baby items he delivered were a godsend- many of the more expensive things you needed were loaded up in Lars’ car. A bassinet, a highchair, a baby monitor- and a whole load of clothes. Lars sheepishly told you that his niece was, well, a girl and seeing how you were having a boy, some of the clothes might not be what you were looking for. You couldn’t have cared less. Clothes were clothes. Free clothes were even better!

Lars sat next to you on the floor and carefully helped you organise the tiny articles of clothing into type and season, asking you quiet questions about your life but trying his hardest not to pry about the one thing he really wanted to ask about.

Where was the baby’s father? You had no pictures on the walls, there was only one set of boots by the door besides his own and no one ever came to church with you. Maybe the father wasn’t religious and just worked all the time? Maybe you weren’t the kind of person that hung personal pictures on the wall? He didn’t know but he got more and more curious by the day.

. . .

“I want to show you something,” Lars told you one Sunday after a sermon. “Are you busy?”

You certainly weren’t busy enough to turn down time with the tall, handsome man who was starting to capture your heart. Well, until he began leading you into the desolate woods through shin deep snow. You started to get a little worried then. Maybe you should’ve made up an excuse to be busy? Was he one of those deceptively sweet and quiet murderers?

Lars kept close by as you both traversed the woods. He didn’t want you to trip over any fallen branches or step into a hole obscured by snow. You kept a protective hand over your coated bump just in case. 

Just when you started to think that maybe you should turn around and run, a treehouse came into view. Lars smiled at you when you looked at it and you instantly knew that the structure held some sort of significance for him.

“This is the treehouse! My brother Gus and his friends came here a lot and he would bring me along when I got older. It’s not used much anymore but I still come here sometimes.”

“I always wanted a treehouse growing up,” you smiled at Lars’ surprising enthusiasm for his treehouse.

“Well, you can come and use it whenever! Gus doesn’t come here anymore so it’s usually just me.” He began climbing the ladder attached to the tree trunk. You didn’t know how to tell Lars you weren’t planning on climbing any trees anytime soon, so you just agreed.

“He can come here if he wants, too.” Lars says once he reaches the platform, laying on the wood and looking down at you. “The baby. Do you think he’d like it?”

You laughed and slowly sat down on a rock adjacent to the large tree after brushing snow off of the surface. “What little boy wouldn’t love a treehouse?”

. . .

You give Lars one of your new ultrasound photos.

You don’t know why. He wasn’t the father of your baby. He was just a friend. 

In the back of your mind, you worry Lars might think it’s weird. But when his face lights up like the Christmas tree in your living room when he realizes what he’s looking at, your worries blow away in the wind.

Lars pins the picture next to the couple of other photos behind his computer so he can see it throughout the day. Kurt questions him about it but Lars doesn’t respond, too busy staring at the amorphous blob of blurry black and white pixels that sort of resembled a baby.

He spent the rest of his shift brainstorming what he should get you and your unborn son for Christmas.

. . .

Lars learns your story when he gives you a ride home from church one Sunday. 

The roads weren’t the best thanks to heavy snowfall the night before, so Lars sped to your house extra early to ask if you wanted a ride so you didn’t have to worry about driving. Of course you said yes.

While the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable, Lars couldn’t handle not knowing anymore.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your gaze shifts from the passing homes outside to look at the side of Lars’ face, where he kept his eyes trained on the road. His hands were gripping the steering wheel.

“You can ask me anything, Lars.” You had a feeling what was coming next.

It took a long bout of nothing before he blurted his question. “Where’s the baby’s father?”

Yep. You figured Lars would ask eventually. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t said anything earlier.

“Back in Chicago. With his girlfriend.”

Lars glanced at you. You stared out of the window and kept talking.

“We’d been together for over five years. I thought he was the one, as delusional as that sounds now. He wasn’t the nicest, and had a temper but I was blinded by love. I know now that I was holding on to the memory of who he was when we started dating. The guy that bought me flowers every weekend and who worshiped the ground I walked on like I mattered. Then I got pregnant and he really changed. He was never home, and when he did come home he was distant. I found out through a friend that he was cheating on me and had been for quite a while. When he learned of the pregnancy, he felt stuck with me. I packed up my things and left the next day. He got mad when he saw me loading up my car and threatened some bullshit I know he won’t have the balls to follow up on. I drove straight here after that.”

Lars let your words sink in- how much you’d gone through and how brave you had to of been to uproot your life and move to an unknown town to keep your baby safe. It was extremely admirable and Lars told you as such.

“I’m sorry to hear about that. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Lars could see your smile out of the corner of his eye. “Me too.”

. . .

It’s Christmas day when Lars gets the phone call. Or rather, Karin gets the phone call on his behalf.

Lars is at his brother’s house watching his niece open her presents, fire roaring and snow falling outside to make for a cozy Christmas morning.

Karin picks up the ringing receiver and Lars doesn’t pay attention to who she’s talking to or what she's talking about until Karin begins to sound a little concerned.

“What? She wasn’t due for another month. Is she ok? Is the baby ok?”

The glance she gave Lars told him enough. He was running out the front door without a second thought.

. . .

Lars doesn’t like hospitals. Never has. Despite the calm atmosphere of the surprisingly quiet hospital waiting room, Lars’ mind was a whirlwind.

Karin’s friend who was a nurse in the labor and delivery wing had called her after she’d tried Lars’ landline and couldn’t get an answer. Considering the fact that you had no family nearby and Lars was regularly seen out with you, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to let Lars know that you had gone into labor unexpectedly last night.

The nurse told him mom and baby were ok, just tired and healing, but he didn’t believe her. He would believe it when he saw it with his own eyes.

He spent the better part of two hours hunched over in the waiting room with his baby blanket bunched in his fists and nose buried into the worn knitting. A couple of passerbys who knew him stopped to offer words of comfort but they didn’t help. All he heard was ringing.

Would the baby be ok? Did he get enough time in the womb to develop properly? Would he have to stay in the hospital for months to be monitored, poked and prodded?

Were you ok?

You’d done it all alone. Had you driven yourself to the hospital in debilitating pain because you had no one else? Should he have offered to stay with you since your due date had been getting closer?

Lars didn’t hear the nurse the first couple of times she called out his name, only snapping out of his thoughts when she lightly touched his shoulder and he jolted away from the burn.

“(Y/n) is awake and asked for you. Would you like to come and see her?”

You looked like you were glowing when Lars walked up to your room. With the white light from outside thanks to the flurries of snow falling and the warm lighting of a couple of lamps through the room, Lars thought you’d never looked prettier. 

He loitered in the doorway for some time, worried that he was dreaming. You looked ok. Tired, but ok. And the little bundle in your arms seemed ok too. There were no big machines in the room that the baby was hooked up to, no cries of pain, just stillness.

You were gazing so softly at the little life in your arms despite your exhaustion, only looking away when you noticed the hulking figure in the doorway. Your soft smile didn’t waver when looking at him.

“Lars! You came!” You spoke in a low tone so as not to disturb your baby, but no less overjoyed. “Come sit.”

Your head gestured to the chair that was sitting next to your bed, empty and waiting for a visitor to fill it. Lars couldn’t help but compare the room to Karin’s when she had her baby. The room had been flooded with family and friends, a constant trickle of people moving in and out to congratulate mom and baby. There was no one here besides you and your son. Lars decided he actually preferred your room. It was peaceful.

Lars felt too big for the chair he carefully sat in, perched on the edge to be as close to you as possible. He had a perfect vantage point to study the boy in your arms, who you tilted his way to give him a better view.

He was definitely small- smaller than his niece had been- but healthy looking. He had two eyes and two ears. A nose and a mouth. A soft dusting of hair on his crown. His breathing seemed strong. Lars felt his anxiousness begin to melt away.

“Sorry if I scared you, Lars. The nurse told me she’d called you to let you know I was here since I told her I didn’t have any family for her to contact. She knows we’re close so she figured you would be the next best person to get a hold of.”

The blanket in his hands twisted around his fingers. “It’s alright. I’m glad you’re both ok.”

You beamed at your son. “A couple of hours old and he’s already a drama queen. Don’t know why he decided he needed to come so early but all things considered, he’s healthy. Just a little on the small side. The hospital wants to keep us here for a couple of days to monitor him and make sure all is well but he’s eating just fine and he’s able to maintain his body temperature pretty good. A little miracle.”

Lars agreed.

“Do you want to hold him?”

He’d had plenty of practice holding his niece when she was a baby, but this felt different. This baby felt more fragile, more delicate, and something he was terrified to break the new life. You could read his expressions pretty well by now.

“You won’t hurt him, Lars. He’s stronger than he looks. But you don’t have to hold him if you don’t want to.”

He did want to. Lars draped his baby blue blanket over the little body in your arms and nodded. 

Lars’ body dwarfed the infants. He was pretty sure he could easily hold him in one hand. The baby weighed practically nothing. He’d woken a little at the shift from your arms to his but settled easily back into sleep once Lars nestled him in the crook of his arm.

“He’s so little,” Lars whispered. 

“A whole 5 pounds,” you hum, resting back against your pillows to watch the interaction with adoration.

“My niece was 8 pounds.” Such a minuscule difference in numbers that meant everything when it came to newborns. “Have you named him?”

Your head shook while you picked at the tape holding the IV in your hand. “Not yet. With how crazy my life has been lately, I haven’t put much thought into it. Now that he’s here though, I can find a name that will fit him. Want to workshop some with me?”

You wanted his help? Naming your baby? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lars. More than anything.”