#ayws

Pixie Cut looks at you over her shoulder, a little too long to be a casual glance, but you think nothing of it. Then, the woman closes her car door and sidles up next to Minivan.

“That her?”

Her attempt at whispering failed miserably. Gossips in the school parking lot are nothing new, though. You know far too much about the marriages of some of these adults. Sometimes it’s hard to look Ryan or Luke’s friends in the eye when you know one of their parents is about to divorce the other.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Though this whisper was much quieter, you’re locked in now, so you strain to hear it.

“God, does she drive like that?”

“I hope not, but who knows? That’s why I didn’t park right next to her. You’re brave.”

The words cause your spine to stiffen and your eyes to widen. They are obviously talking about you. But what the hell are they talking about? How do you drive? Are you a bad driver? You’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. Your top teeth gnash into your bottom lip as you eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation.

“Please,” Pixie says with a scoff. “If anything happened to this thing, I would just have Donny go get me a new one.”

No, don’t move on to Donny, you think. What the hell are you saying about me?

“Think there’s any in the car?” Pixie asks.

“Wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t most of those junkies always have that shit on them?”

You almost choke on your own spit. Most of those what? Your eyebrows furrow together as you fight to keep your composure. If they know you’re onto them, there’s a good chance these clucking hens will stop talking.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I mean, at least keep it to your own time, you know?”

“I guess some druggies just can’t help themselves. And can’t help themselves from stealing someone’s husband.”

They titter together as you see a familiar SUV pull into the parking lot. You clench your fists together, nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep the tears away. It is not successful.

Luckily, or not, depending on whether you really wanted to hear more or not, the women move away, walking closer to the school. The tears spill over, falling down your face in a steady stream. Through your blurry vision, you look for the friendly face that drove the SUV.

“Steve?” Your voice is hoarse; barely above a whisper. But somehow he hears it.

His head swivels in your direction, throwing you that charming smile of his before he sees the tear tracks down your cheeks. Immediately, he stalks over to you, face pinching up in concern.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He looks you over, trying to see if you’re injured in some way.

Words fail you, so you shake your head. Steve is evidently at a loss. He runs his fingers through his hair, and somehow, his anxiety gets you to speak.

“D-Do you know those two women over there?” You nod your head in the direction they went.

Steve cranes his neck to see around the sea of vehicles in the parking lot.

“Who?”

You sniffle and wipe your nose on your hoodie sleeve before you reply.

“The one w-with the short blonde hair. A-And the one with the brown bob.”

“Uh…” Steve squints, trying to get a better look. “I don’t know the brunette. The blonde is the mom of one of Natalie’s friends. Sharon, I think. Why?”

Desperate to get rid of the tears, you tuck your hands inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt and wipe off your face.

“They were just here,” you say, gesturing to the minivan two spots away. “Talking about me. S-Saying horrible shit.”

“To you?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“No.” You shake your head. “They were trying to whisper, but I heard them. Or maybe they wanted me to hear, I don’t know. But they called me a junkie and a druggie.”

“What?” Steve’s posture tenses, and he crosses his arms across his chest.

You’re only able to nod as the tears start again.

“They were, like, wondering if I drove high. If there were drugs in the car. And they s-said I stole someone’s husband.” Obviously, the “someone” is Brittany, but the last thing you need is to say her name out loud.

“What the fuck?” Steve spits. He shakes his head, his arms dropping to his sides. He looks fidgety, unsure what to do with all the anxious and angry energy that’s built up inside of him. “Hold on, I’m going to go talk to them.”

“No!” You reach out and grab Steve’s right arm before he can take two steps in the direction of the school. “No, Steve. I don’t want to start anything with them.”

“Hey…” Steve sighs softly and squeezes you to his side in an approximation of a hug. “I’m not going to bring up what you heard. I’m just going to see if they’ll share their shitty gossip with me, so I can get the whole story of whatever fucked up lie they’re spreading. Okay?”

“B-But, how do you know they’ll tell you? They know you’re best friends with Eddie.”

Steve grins, slipping his hands into his back pockets.

“I can be very persuasive when I try,” he says. “I’ve been known to charm everyone from crying babies to old crones.”

You can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of you. Though you’re still not crazy about it, you nod anyway.

He heads off in their direction, and you hug your arms around yourself, trying to keep as calm as possible. It feels like he’s over there for a lifetime. You expect the school bell to ring any second, feeling like that much time must have gone past by now.

Eventually, he heads back in your direction. You let out a sigh of relief—until you see his face. His handsome features are tight, fury set into every line. The way his jaw is clenched has the fear racing back in.

“What did they say?” you badger as soon as he gets close enough. “Did they tell you anything?”

The fact that he won’t look you in the eye makes your stomach drop.

“S-Steve?”

His head twitches to the side, resembling a muscle spasm, but clearly a sign of the anger he’s holding back. As much as you admire his restraint, you need him to drop it. Fortunately, one look at your distraught face has Steve spilling.

“There’s a fucking rumor going around,” he says, teeth clenched as if this physically pains him to speak of. “That you…” He pauses and clears his throat. “That you do d-drugs. Mostly coke, I gathered.” He stops, but you know there’s more. One hand comes up to rub at his jaw while the other rests firmly on his hip. “And that you have them just lying around, letting the boys be exposed to it all or even fucking doing it in front of them.”

Your hands come up to cover your mouth. Out of everything they could’ve said, accusing you of putting the boys in danger is the worst possible thing.

“I…” You’re stunned speechless. A few deep breaths do little to calm you. “I would never.”

“Hey, I know that.” Steve reaches forward and pulls you in for a hug.

Part of you thinks there will be a rumor about you having an affair with Steve now, but the other part of you needs a hug so badly that you don’t care.

“M’pretty sure you’ve said you’ve only done pot, what? Twice?” He lets out a terse huff of laughter.

“Three times,” you mumble against his chest.

“Oh, you stoner.”

Despite the turmoil eating you from the inside out, you manage a small smile.

“I, uh,” Steve starts as the two of you part, “I think I know where the rumor came from. Or rather, who it came from.”

There’s only one option. Who else on this planet has the motive to smear you this horribly? Only the she-devil herself could be behind this.

“Brittany.” The name is a growl that vibrates your chest.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. He shakes his head before adding, “But I sure as shit set those women back there straight. And if any of us catch wind of this again, I’ll sic Nancy on them.”

“Shotgun and all,” you say, one corner of your mouth quirking up.

“Exactly.”

The school bell rings, both of you turning your heads towards the old brick building. Steve rests a hand on your shoulder and tilts his head to the side.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” You quickly wipe your face to erase any sign of tears.

“You’re gonna tell Eddie, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he says. “Don’t worry, Kid. I know that’s easier said than done, but it’ll be okay.”

Normally, you’d protest at the nickname, but you just nod; you feel like a bobble head at this point.

Steve heads back to his car, and only moments later, your two favorite boys run up to you.

“Freedom!” Luke cheers.

“Hi, I—are you okay?” The concerned frown on Ryan’s face is almost enough to get you bawling again.

“Yeah,” you reply in a breathy tone. “All good.”

Before either of them can say anything else, you grab each of them and pull them in for a tight embrace. You hug them against your body, and though they’re surprised at first, it doesn’t take long for them to hug you back.

The moment the doorknob jangles, you push yourself up from the couch. You hate to bombard your boyfriend as soon as he gets home, but you’ve been nothing but a bundle of nerves ever since you got back. It’s hard, because you know this is going to ruin his day. But he would feel even worse if you didn’t tell him and he found out some other way.

“Hey, baby.” Eddie tosses his keys onto the counter before turning to look at you.

“Hi.”

The warble and low volume of your voice would be enough to tell him something was wrong, but the devastation on your face more than takes care of it.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” He’s immediately in front of you, cupping your face gently in his hands.

“The boys are fine,” you rush to assure him. The panic in his eyes churns your stomach. “They’re playing in Luke’s room.”

“Okay, good.” Eddie nods, but the urgency is still front and center. “What about you? Are you okay? What is it?”

“I didn’t get hurt,” you breathe out harshly, shaking your head the best you can in his grip.

“Then what is it? What you’re not saying is starting to scare me more.”

“I just…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes. “Can we sit down? And please calm down, you’re making me w-worse.”

“Right, got it.” Eddie’s worry is boiling over, but he tries to compose himself as the two of you take a seat on the couch.

You’re tilted towards one another, his knees bumping against yours as he eagerly waits for you to speak.

“There’s a, uh, rumor going around a-about me,” you finally manage.

Dark brows furrow together in confusion. “I don’t understand. A rumor? Where? What is it?”

“As far as I know,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel, “it’s going around some parents at the boys’ school. I-I heard moms talking about me today.”

Eddie’s hands slip into yours, giving them a small squeeze of encouragement. He’s about to ask you what they said, but he knows you’re getting to that and he doesn’t want to put any unneeded pressure on you.

“Apparently,” you start, “it’s being s-said that I do drugs. Or, c-coke at least. And that I just—” Here, you’re forced to stop, a small sob sneaking out. The way your face crumbles breaks Eddie’s heart. He used to live with drug addicted parents; he knows the tragic reality of it. And he knows you know this too, so he silently wonders if that’s part of why you’re hesitant to tell him everything. “They’re saying I just leave the drugs lying around in the open.” You fling one hand out to the side, gesturing to the greater living room. The very thought of there being lines of coke set out on the coffee table is enough to make you nauseous. “That I…” This is the hardest part to say; the most vile aspect of it all for you. “That I do the drugs in front of the boys.”

The words light a fuse, a ticking time bomb growing inside of your boyfriend, the explosion imminent.

“They…” Eddie swallows thickly, poorly attempting to keep his composure. “The rumor is that you do drugs…in front of the boys?” He licks over his lips and drops his eyes down to his lap. Rage radiates from his every pore as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yes,” you all but whisper, unsure if you’re really meant to answer or not.

Slowly, Eddie rises to his feet and runs a ringed hand over his mouth. The tension in his body would be frightening if you didn’t know it was in your honor. His hands fall to his hips as he begins pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

“S-Steve showed up,” you add softly. “He went to talk to the moms. To find out what they were saying. And he told them off, he said. But he—”

You bite your lip, cutting yourself off. The last piece of the puzzle is the hardest one to deliver to Eddie.

He pauses his pacing and raises his eyebrows at you.

“Hmm?”

It’s difficult to gather your nerve, but you take a deep breath and get it out there.

“Um, Steve also had an idea of w-who’s behind it…”

There’s no need to speak the name—you both know.

Eddie tucks his lips in and squares his jaw. The fuse is running out, the bomb is about to go off.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie swipes at the coffee table, sending a tissue box and two television remotes flying across the room.

You clench your hands together in your lap, eyes filling with tears.

Eddie runs his fingers through his hair, ignoring a tangle his pinky snags on. He stalks closer to the front door. You’re wondering if he’s going to leave when you see him draw his arm back, like a coil getting ready to spring forward. His fist is clenched, his knuckles white.

You take a gasp in, hoping to get something out before he makes contact, but he’s too worked up. Eddie's fist slams into the wall right next to the door, smack dab between the doorframe and a picture frame with a photo of the boys as toddlers. The wall dents beneath his fury, showing a dime-sized hole as he pulls his hand away.

“THAT FUCKING C—”

Two sets of footsteps come down the hallway, shutting Eddie up.

“Daddy?” Ryan asks timidly.

Eddie keeps his back to his sons, not wanting them to see him so revved up. He hangs his head and presses his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He hopes he’s blocking them from seeing the damage he caused as well.

“Boys,” he says, as gently as he can manage, “go to your rooms. Everything’s fine.”

Neither boy believes him. Ryan looks towards you, Luke following his lead, and you give them a small smile. You nod your head at them, silently telling them to listen to their father. The two of them give each other a look before shuffling back towards their rooms.

“I’m gonna fucking kill her,” Eddie seethes. The lower volume is somehow worse than the screaming.

“Come here.” You stand up and gently tug on his arm that he used to punch. His hand reluctantly unfurls and you can see the scratches and scrapes his outburst caused, all caked with drywall, plaster, and green paint. You sigh and nod your head towards the hallway.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bathtub as you pull out the first aid kit. Luckily, it’s just been restocked so you’re able to get some bandages. Most of the last box had been used up by Luke from the time he tried to jump down the steps at Wayne’s trailer instead of walk. And the time he tried to do a dive roll. And the time he didn’t believe the sign that said the geese would bite.

You take a seat on the lid of the toilet and grab the washcloth to clean off your boyfriend’s hand. Neither of you speak, the whirring of the air conditioner the only sound cutting the silence. One large bandage is able to cover the worst of his lacerations, but you add a little medical tape to make sure it stays in place. You know Eddie—he’d try to peel that thing off without you noticing.

“Are you okay?” Eddie finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod your head and wipe at your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“I will be.” You sigh and rest your elbows on your knees. “At first I was shocked. Then outraged. Now it feels more like hurt. And a little scary.”

“Scary? What, scared of me?” Eddie’s brow furrows.

“No, no.” You reach out and slip your hand into his uninjured one. “Scared that the boys will hear somehow. Scared that someone will actually call child services, believing it. Scared I’ll be stuck with a reputation of someone who would do something so heinous. I mean, thank God this didn’t happen during the custody battle.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a sigh. “Surprised she didn’t think of this one then.” He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. “The boys know what the truth is. And anyone who knows you knows it as well. It’s gonna be okay.”

You give him a watery smile.

“I thought I left this gossip bullshit behind in high school,” you say.

“I guess some mean girls never stop being mean girls.”

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you too, princess.” Eddie gently cups your jaw. “So much. I hate that this is happening.”

“Yeah, I gathered that when you put your fist through the wall.”

“Well,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “I figured it was better than putting it through someone’s face. Which is what I want to do.”

“Am I petty for wanting to get her back in some way?”

“Oh God, no,” Eddie says. “I’d love to see you get a little petty. We can scheme together.”

You chuckle softly and press your lips against his.

“Her sons love me more than they love her,” you say. “I think that’s a good start.”

The next day, Eddie insists on leaving work early so he can pick the boys up from school. He makes sure to stop off at home first though, grabbing his leather jacket and black combat boots. Adult women want to act like mean girls in high school? Eddie’s all too happy to bring out his old high school persona as well. The Freak is making a comeback.

Eddie made a point of asking Steve if he knew who these women were that had been talking about you. He was able to generally describe them, but he could give Eddie definitive answers on the cars.

His eyes scan for a silver Toyota or a beaten down minivan as he enters the parking lot. Immediately, he spies the vehicles parked next to each other with women that fit the descriptions Steve gave him. And lucky for him, there’s a parking spot right across from the minivan.

Eddie careens his pickup into the empty space. He checks in the rearview mirror and still sees the ladies standing there. It’s been a while since people thought the Big Bad Eddie Munson was intimidating; now it’s time to see if he can get that vibe back.

The keys jingle as he yanks them out of the ignition and throws the truck door open. He makes a big show of slamming the door closed behind him. Black chunky boots carry him to the back of the truck, facing the opposite direction of where the kids will be coming from—but facing the gossipers head on. He leans against the tailgate, slipping his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

The cold set of his jaw would be enough to make anyone look twice. And these ladies were definitely looking. Eddie meets their eyes when they dare look over, but he never speaks a word. Just watches.

A few minutes go by and Eddie yanks a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hasn’t been a smoker for a while now, but he thought it would help the look. The filter rests between his plush lips as he lifts his lighter to the other end. He refuses to inhale, not wanting to start the addiction up again, but he knows you’ll be questioning him on the smell tonight either way.

Once Eddie sticks the pack and the lighter back in his pocket, he shrugs the leather jacket off. Beneath he’s wearing an old Megadeth t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of years ago. He hangs the jacket over the tailgate and resumes his position leaning against the truck. Now, both of his tattooed arms are on display as he crosses them over his chest.

The ladies look unnerved now. They’re clearly talking about him with the way they keep sneaking nervous glances. Good. Let them be nervous.

The only movements Eddie makes are to lift the cigarette to and from his lips. He blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He had taken the bandage off of his hand, letting the world get a glimpse of his bruised and cut up knuckles. Let the ladies make of that what they will. The more uncomfortable these women look, the happier Eddie becomes.

Part of Eddie feels like a panther, stalking its prey. Just waiting and watching. In this case, the prey doesn’t need to know that he’s not going to pounce; the threat of it is enough. As long as they know Eddie could do something, he’s winning.

The bell rings and the women look relieved. Eddie stays still for a few more moments before tossing the cigarette down on the ground and snuffing it out with the toe of his boot. No need for the boys to catch him in the act—they’ll probably ask about the smell too.

“Daddy?”

Luke runs around to the back of the truck, grinning when he sees his father.

“You’re here today!”

Ryan follows behind his little brother and gives their dad the same smile.

“Hey, Rugrats,” he says. “How was school?”

“Good,” Luke says with a shrug.

“At lunch, Jerry poured chocolate milk on Bryan’s head,” Ryan tells him.

“How come?” Eddie asks as he grabs his jacket.

“Cause Bryan called Jerry a poop head.”

“Well, sounds like Bryan got what he deserved.” Eddie makes sure to speak up even though he knows the ladies can hear him. The boys head to the side of the truck, but Eddie gives one long last look at the parking spot across the way.

“He’ll learn that running your mouth is one way to get what’s coming to you. Some people just don’t know when to keep their goddamn mouths shut.”

Instead, the boys decide to create a nest for you on the couch, with everything to keep you comfortable right within reach. There are four blankets piled up, two beneath you to make the couch even cushier, and two next to you in case you become cold. Luke’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox sits one cushion over, its ice pack keeping a bottle of water and an orange Gatorade cold and ready for consumption. Ryan, the taller of the two, wasn’t able to reach the top shelf in the pantry and grab the cookies (which is exactly why the treats are kept so high up), so the boys brought in every type of chip they could scavenge together. They had hoped for more than just three different kinds, but one of Eddie’s errands for the day is to go to the grocery store for a reason. So, Luke set a can of Pringles between a bag of nacho cheese Doritos and a bag of salt and vinegar Lays. 

The boys also provide you with the book you’re currently reading, but your sore neck only lets you read for ten minutes before you have to put it down. Luke then scoops the remote off the coffee table and quickly scrolls through the television guide. You have to look away because the speed he’s clicking away with starts to make you feel nauseous. He briefly stops on an episode of Scooby Doo, unable to resist the temptation. Ryan elbows him in the side, though, and that breaks the spell. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on that interests you at the moment. Ryan is about to suggest one of the many movies in the household collection when Luke gets an idea. 

“Wait,” the ten-year-old says, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Come with me.”

Ryan isn’t given a chance to answer before Luke drags him up the stairs. 

“Okay,” you say into the empty room. With one hand on your bump, you reach over and grab the can of Pringles. 

Ryan and Luke disappear long enough for you to finish the rest of the can, which wasn’t completely full, you tell yourself. 

There’s some scuffling from their rooms, the usual back-and-forth bickering that luckily doesn’t escalate. You’re far too exhausted to even consider breaking up a Munson brother fight. 

“Okay, you remember the words, right?” Luke whispers loudly. 

“Yeah, obviously.” You can practically hear Ryan’s eyeroll. “I’m the one who wrote them down.”

“I’m the one who wrote them—ow!” Luke’s nasal mocking is cut short with a thud. “Push me again and I’ll kick your—”

“BOYS.”

The arguing stops the moment you raise your voice. Probably to avoid another one of your pregnancy hormone-induced crying spells, which may have happened the last time they fought. 

Whatever works. 

“Are you ready?” Luke calls from somewhere near the top of the stairs. 

“For what?” you call back.

“You’ll see!”

“Then how do I know if I’m ready for it?” you tease.

“Just…” Luke sputters. “You’re ready!”

A chuckle rumbles out of you, and you settle a hand on your bump. You truly don’t know if you’re ready for whatever the boys have cooked up, but you also know that you don’t have a choice. 

The thuds that pound down the stairwell sound like a stampede of wildebeasts instead of two boys. 

You had hoped that when you saw them, you’d get some clue as to what they’re planning. You couldn’t be more wrong. 

Both boys are wearing their black slacks and suit jackets that they had worn to your and Eddie’s wedding. The waistband of the red cotton shorts Luke is wearing peeks out from the top of the slacks, and he and Ryan are both wearing the t-shirts they had on all day beneath the jackets. Your wedding was only seven months ago, but you still notice that the slacks are shorter on the two boys than they were back in February. A surge of pregnancy hormones rushes forward, making you emotional at how big Luke and Ryan are getting, and how they’re growing so fast. But you manage to swallow it down as you take in the rest of the boys’ ensembles. 

Each of them is wearing their sunglasses, and Luke has his black baseball hat on, while Ryan has Eddie’s black beanie on his head. The beanie is too big since Ryan’s head isn’t as large as his father’s, so the top of it flops down to the right, despite it being pulled down to just above his sunglasses. 

In bold green magic marker (at least, you hope it’s washable), each boy has written their name on their knuckles. 

“What on earth—”

You abruptly end your sentence as Luke lunges forward to grab the remote control for the television and the one for the DVD player. The younger brother tosses the smaller DVD remote to Ryan and keeps the bigger one for himself. 

The two of them look at one another, Ryan gives a nod, and they take their positions. They stand next to one another, their chins dipped, and their eyes on the floor. 

“Dun, dun.” At Ryan’s imitation of the opening notes of a song, both boys sway to the left, then right at each beat. 

The warden threw a party in the county jail

The prison band was there, and they began to wail 

Luke has his remote lifted to his mouth like a microphone as he begins to sing. Ryan holds his remote up to his mouth as well, and it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s holding it horizontally to his lips, as if it were a harmonica. 

The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing

You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing 

A peal of laughter bursts out of you as you realize you’re watching a Blues Brothers performance. 

Let's rock

Everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock 

The brothers step side to side, mimicking the choreography of Jake and Elwood in the film. The whole spectacle of it: the improvised costumes, the remotes as a microphone and a harmonica, the dance steps from the movie, Luke’s buoyant child voice singing the Elvis lyrics; it tickles you pink. You break into a fit of giggles as you watch your sons perform. 

It also strikes you, seeing them in this element, how much like Eddie they each are in their own way. Luke obviously looks like a miniature version of his father, but seeing the way he hams it up as a natural performer he channels his father so completely that the resemblance goes far beyond looks. Though Ryan’s physical likeness to Eddie might not be as pronounced as his brother, watching him pretend to rock out on his fake harmonica he becomes his father incarnate, every movement and expression echoing him perfectly. 

Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone

Little Joe was blowing on the slide trombone

The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang

The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang 

Between Luke’s boisterous singing and the way you’re laughing in unabashed enjoyment, none of you hear the front door open. The swish of plastic grocery bags is what first alerts you to Eddie’s presence as he steps into the room. 

You look over your shoulder and see your husband looking at his sons, his eyebrows raised and his expression beyond amused. 

They each look up at him in return, Ryan’s sunglasses slipping down his nose as he does, but the true performers they are, they know the show must go on. 

Let's rock

Everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock 

Without a word, Eddie walks into the kitchen. He obviously needs to set the bags down, but the noise you hear coming from that part of the house goes beyond the simple chore. 

Number forty-seven said to number three

"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see"

I sure would be delighted with your company

Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me" 

As Luke finishes the verse, Eddie steps back into the room, his guitar strapped around him, a pick in his hand. He comes in with the music exactly at the point the boys are at in the song. The ease with which their father joins in amazes the boys. They halt in their performances to stare up at their dad.

“You can play this song?” Luke asks, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a laugh, finding his youngest son’s confusion amusing. “You think I grew up in the same house as Grandpa and didn’t learn how to play some Elvis songs on the guitar?”

“Oh, your grandfather and his love for Elvis,” you chime in fondly. 

“Is that why he rewinds this scene over and over again in the movie so much?” Ryan asks.

“That, and The Blues Brothers is a damn good movie,” Eddie responds. 

“Do you know the trombone song?” Luke asks. “The one that goes wah wah wahhhh wah wah wah wah…”

Eddie stifles a laugh. “Maybe we save Minnie the Moocher for when you’re older.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Luke says, waving his free hand in the air. “We gotta start from the top.”

You look up at your husband, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“You’re not even going to ask how this all started?” 

Eddie shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says. 

“We are providing entertainment,” Ryan answers anyway. 

“Yeah, so she’s less miserable,” Luke tells his dad. 

“You think she’ll be less miserable with you singing?” Eddie teases with a smirk. 

Luke’s little jaw pops open as his face scrunches. 

“Your voice is lovely!” you assure Luke. 

The ten-year-old turns to you and bows his head.

“Thank you,” he says pointedly. “Now,” he says, facing his father again, “from the top!”

Eddie gives him a salute as Ryan retakes his opening position. 

Dun dun the guitar wails. 

The warden threw a party in the county jail

The prison band was there, and they began to wail

The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing

You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing 

Eddie’s mouth pops open, mind trying to process his son’s words and a possible response. 

“I—uh… No. No, I did not. That’s what you learned at school today, huh?”

“Yep.” The little boy wriggles so Eddie plops him back down on his feet.

“Tax dollars well spent,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he follows his mini-me into the kitchen. 

Inside, Ryan is sliding his homework folder back into his backpack. You’re bent over, searching for something in the fridge, and Eddie’s body has an immediate response to you in that position. That might just be the one position the two of you weren’t in in his dream last night. 

“Hi, Daddy!” Ryan calls as he zips up his backpack.

“Hey, pal.” Eddie ruffles his golden-brown hair before coming up behind you and accidentally bumping his hip up against your ass.

Heat rushes to your cheeks despite the waves of cold wafting over your face from the refrigerator. Coming to the conclusion that Luke must have finished his last Yoo-Hoo and therefore can’t have the one that he asked you for, you stand up straight and spin to meet Eddie’s gaze. The way his eyes glint with mischief as he tries his hardest to suppress a smirk does nothing to calm your body down. Every damn look this man gives you is a turn on. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, only a hint of laughter creeping into his voice. “Didn’t see you there.”

You step forward and let the refrigerator door fall closed behind you.

“Uh huh,” you hum, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Eddie can’t hold his chuckle back any longer and moves so he’s leaning back against the counter. Simply being in his personal space feels too charged, so you force yourself to walk over to the kitchen table and run a hand over Ryan’s hair.

“That was all your homework?” you ask.

“Yup!”

“Good job.”

“Can we please play a game now?” Luke runs his hands down his face, letting his fingers tug down his bottom eyelids, revealing the vibrant red on the other side of the skin.

“Yes, I know, I promised you a game.” You boop his nose as he shuffles past you, gait reminiscent of a zombie. 

The little boy continues forward until he bumps into his father’s tall frame.

“Can we play Twister?” Luke asks as he grabs Eddie’s left hand, spinning a chunky silver ring around his middle finger. 

“Daddy can spin the thing, and we can get all tangled up on the mat!’ Ryan grins, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

The mental image of you bending in different positions right in front of him is more than poor frazzled Eddie can handle. He clears his throat and rubs his free hand along his stubbled jaw. 

“Um, how about this…” Eddie trails off, mind racing since he doesn’t have a decent alternative already thought up. “Uh, oh! Okay. How about you guys go take your baths right now? That way we can play a game when you’re done.” And God does Eddie hope they want a different game by then. “That way you already have your baths done for the night so we can watch two movies before bed.”

“Two?!” Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his head as he stares up at him. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie gently shakes the hand that Luke’s still holding onto. “Each of you can pick one.”

Luke widens his eyes and rocks back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.

“Can I pick a PG movie?” A small, cute pucker grows on his lips as he attempts to sway his father with his adorableness. 

Eddie cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows.

“Depends on the movie. But maybe.”

“Yes!” 

It’s all Luke needs to hear before running out of the kitchen, down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Can I pick the first movie?” Ryan asks once his little brother is gone.

“Sure thing, pal.” Eddie nods. “Go ahead, go take your bath.”

After both of the boys have vacated the kitchen, you saunter over to Eddie and slide your hands up his coverall-clad chest. Your forefinger traces the letters of his name on his left breast pocket.

“So, not a fan of Twister?” You tilt your head up and bat your eyelashes as innocently as you can manage.

“Maybe too much of a fan when you’re involved.” 

Eddie slides one arm around your waist and pulls your body flush up against his. The way your thigh presses up against his crotch allows you to feel that he’s already half hard. The friction makes Eddie release a small groan as you give a tiny gasp in surprise.

“What’s got you worked up?” you ask, no flirting or teasing, just genuine curiosity in your tone. 

“Well,” Eddie says, slipping a hand into each of the back pockets of your jeans, “there is the fact that I came home to see my girl bent over in front of me. After all the fantasizing I’ve been doing about her today. After the hottest fucking dream I’ve ever had last night.”

“Wow, so you’ve been ready to go all day, huh?” Your smirk indicates the teasing has returned. 

Eddie’s hands squeeze your ass as his head ducks down until his mouth is a mere inch from yours.

“You have no idea,” he growls. 

The timbre sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, which Eddie notices. He grins and it’s positively predatory. You’ll happily be this man’s prey any day.

“I think,” you say softly, “I’ll go into your room and see if I can find anything that might be able to help you with your…problem.” It takes a massive amount of strength to take a step back, out of Eddie’s arms, but the prospect of having his body on top of yours in a matter of moments gives you the drive you need. 

Brown eyes darkened with lust trail you as you slink out of the room. He stands there, silently counting to five before he follows you. 1…2…3…4–oh fuck it, here I come.

Eddie shoves himself off of the counter, steps hurried as he heads down the hall. The moment he steps into his room, you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, one leg crossed over the other, your foot lazily bobbing up and down. The desire that’s been burning in him all day flairs into a roaring fire. His tongue slowly licks over his teeth as he quietly shuts and locks the door behind him. 

“Lay down.”

The command leaves no room for argument as you lay back, scooting until your head rests on Eddie’s pillow. A quick glance to the side has you shoving Brittany’s pillow over the edge. 

Eddie kneels on the foot of the bed, one leg on either side of your ankles. His gaze rakes up your body, starting at the hem of your jeans, up your sensuous legs, the zipper and button that Eddie yearns to pop open, the curve of your waist and the swell of your breasts, up to the face that he swears was crafted by angels.

No hastiness in his movements, Eddie leans down until his hands are splayed on each side of your stomach. He leisurely leans down and lets his nose brush up the hem of your shirt. Once your soft skin is exposed, Eddie presses gentle kisses in a trail up to the bottom of your bra. Hot breath ghosts against your neck as Eddie crawls further up your body. It’s agony waiting until his face hovers directly above yours. 

A smile involuntarily grows, brightening his entire face. Your eyes trace the lines of his mouth, where they come to little dimples in his cheeks. But Eddie takes your chin in his fingers and moves your head so your gazes lock again.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead, you lay there, staring up at him. The fiery look in his eyes makes your breathing speed up. 

Torturously slow, Eddie finally leans down and connects his mouth to yours. You immediately respond, tilting your head to slot your lips against his, greedy for all you can get from him. His body weight steadily presses down against you, one of his legs slotting between yours. Your arms immediately wrap around him, one hand tugging the hair tie out so his locks can fall free. A soft moan rattles your chest as you sink your fingers into Eddie’s hair. The sound has Eddie’s thigh pressing harder against your core. His hard length also rubs against your leg, the feel of it causing an ache deep within you. 

Your lips part and Eddie wastes no time brushing his tongue against your own. The kisses quickly become frantic, urgent, with him licking into your mouth as your two legs wrap around his one to keep it right where it is against the too-thick denim you’re wearing. 

The way his scruff brushes against your chin irritates it with the most pleasurable burn you’ve ever experienced. His mouth is wet and hot against yours and you feel as if you could fall apart just from this. 

A groan into your mouth only heightens your pleasure. One large hand slides down and grasps at your waist the other gently cupping the side of your head as he leans on that arm for balance. Eddie’s hips roll up against yours with more fervor, the frequency increasing as well. Every stroke of his tongue against yours comes with his body pressing up against yours, your panties beyond soaked at this point. 

Even between your jeans and the material of Eddie’s coveralls, you feel his cock twitch against your leg. His excitement makes the feel of his tongue in your mouth even sexier. 

He must agree by the sound of another groan. The low rumble vibrates against your chest. Hips press flush up against yours, your body now rocking in time with his own. The hand pressed against your waist starts to slide up your body and you’re quick to cover it with your own. Mouths not skipping a beat, and hips keeping up their rhythmic pace, you drag Eddie’s hand underneath your t-shirt and up your skin. The back of your hand pushes the left cup of your bra away and you bring Eddie’s hand to rest on your bare breast.

The moment his skin meets yours, the hard pebble of your nipple pressing against the palm of his hand, Eddie’s hips give one last lurch before they still. He moans into your mouth until he can’t breathe anymore and is forced to pull back. Both of you are panting as Eddie rests his forehead against your cheek, his chest heaving against yours, both of your hands still between them. 

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbles, followed by a low chuckle. It takes a moment between the layers of clothes, but you soon feel the warmth growing against your thigh. You let out a chuckle of your own as your eyes slip closed.

“Was good?” you ask breathlessly. 

“Jesus Christ, you make me feel like a teenager,” he mumbles against your jaw. “I don’t think I’ve come in my pants since high school.”

“I’m honored.” You both share a soft laugh as you slip your hand from beneath your shirt and gently scratch your fingers against Eddie’s scalp.

“I should be embarrassed,” he says with a sigh.

“No, you–”

“But I’m not,” Eddie cuts you off. “How the fuck do you make me feel so comfortable to be me so freely? Even when I come in my pants like a virgin.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,” you tell him. 

The hand that was previously against the side of your face snakes down and blindly searches for your hand. You’re quick to slip it into his larger one and he laces your fingers together.

“Fuck, I guess I should get up before it makes a mess of your pants, too. That would be fun to explain away.”

“Mm, don’t move,” you huff. 

“I gotta,” he laments with a sigh. 

“Fine. But you must give me one more kiss before you do.”

Eddie looks up at you with that boyish grin that always makes your stomach flip.

“I can do better than that.”

He leans up and presses three gentle but loving kisses against your lips. It leaves a smile on your face as he pushes himself up and moves off of the bed. Lazily, you watch him change out of his coveralls and into new boxers, a t-shirt, and jeans. When he catches you staring, Eddie throws you a wink. 

“Unfortunately, we’re out of time for shenanigans today. Bath time usually only lasts half an hour,” he says as he comes back towards the bed. He sits down on the edge and rubs his hand along your thigh. “But I refuse to let this go unreciprocated. So…” He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours and bumps your noses together, “tomorrow you better be ready to see how many times I can make you come in half an hour.”

Your thighs clench together just at the thought.

“Bring it on, baby.”

“I got you, Daddy!” She cheers. 

“You got me, sweet pea!”

The pranks pulled on you this year were pretty mild, and you give full credit to the babies growing inside of you. No one wants to truly scare a pregnant woman who is at 35 weeks. The bag of Luke’s Lucky Charms shoved into your Rice Krispies box did manage to catch you off guard. You chuckled at the rainbow in your cereal bowl as you poured in the milk. Ryan switched half of the family photos in the living room to pictures of different actors. It was certainly amusing to see Johnny Depp posing on the red carpet right next to your wedding photo. 

Eddie’s prank on you was a good one, you eventually admitted to him. For days on end, you had been telling Eddie how you were craving Chinese food. He kept saying he would pick some up this week. So, when Wednesday came and he said he was bringing home your favorite, you saw red when he walked through the front door with a pizza box. 

“Eddie, what the hell?” you’d asked.

“What?”

“You said you were getting Chinese.”

“Huh? I thought you wanted pizza, princess,” he’d said. 

You whined and rubbed your hands over your face. Part of you wanted to cry, actually. You’d been looking forward to this for so long.

“Well, maybe you’ll like the kind of pizza I got?” Eddie set the box down on the counter and opened the lid to reveal Styrofoam containers overflowing with noodles and rice. 

“You’re such a dick,” you whined with a laugh. 

“But you love me anyway.”

He had a point.

You told everyone the day before April Fool’s that you wouldn’t be pulling any pranks because you didn’t have the energy to devise any. Of course, none of them believed you and were on the lookout the entire day. Even if you did have something planned, the pressure near your pelvis kept your mind pretty occupied. The doctor said that it’s to be expected the further along you go, with the twins bearing down, ready to get into position. But the pressure seemed to be just a little worse today. 

“Feeling okay, baby?” Eddie asks as he takes his watch off for bed. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh as you waddle over to your side of the bed. “This damn feeling like they’re pressing on all my organs down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Literally?” Your husband gives you a playful smirk as he pulls down the blankets on your bed.

“Kinda feels like it, yeah,” you reply. 

It takes some effort to get into bed and get comfortable under the blankets. Eddie sits on his side, attentively monitoring to see if you’ll need his help or not. Once you’re settled back against your pillows, you give him a thumbs up.

“Good to go,” you say. 

Eddie slides closer to you beneath the blankets until his legs are pressed up against yours. Gently, he lifts your chin and leans in to press his lips to yours. 

“I love you, gorgeous.”

When he pulls away, you’re glaring up at him—not too fiercely, but enough to let him know you’re not exactly feeling the pet name at the moment.

“I love you, too, Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Eddie cocks a brow.

“He’s blind right?” You stretch your arm out haphazardly in the direction of the stairs in your home—near where your youngest son’s room is. “That’s what Luke said. Talking about that movie with Ben Affleck or something? Ugh, I don’t know.” You heave a deep breath and let your hand fall onto your protruding belly.

“And why am I blind?” Eddie asks as he scoots himself back over to his side of the bed. 

“That little term of endearment you gave me.”

Eddie sighs and looks back over at you.

“We gonna do this again?” he asks. “How many times do I have to knock you up for you to get that you’re so fucking hot pregnant?”

“Okay, I’m even putting that aside,” you say, swiping a hand in front of you. “I’m just a mess lately. No sleep. Pain. Harder to do basic shit, even like, brush my hair.”

“You’re just being a Mrs. Grumpy Gills because you’re so uncomfortable right now.” Eddie lays back against his pillows and tucks one arm behind his head.

Your eyebrows raise as you slowly turn your head to meet your husband’s gaze. 

“Did you just call me, ‘Mrs. Grumpy Gills?’”

He groans and flops his other arm down across his face.

“Ugh. You know, I appreciate the boys taking Eliza out places lately, I really, really do. But did they have to go to the goddamn aquarium? It led to this Finding Nemo phase that seems never ending.”

“How many times has she made you watch it now?” you ask.

“Shit, I lost count.” Eddie chuckles and lowers his pale, tattooed arm from his face onto his chest. 

Another pulse strikes your pelvic area and even irritates your lower back this time. Your face scrunches up as you squirm around a little, coming to the realization that there is no feasible way to rub your lower back at the moment. Last time your back hurt this way, rubbing it helped, you remember. God, it’s hard for you to even remember the last time you had that pain down there. The last time must’ve been…nah, it’s just the pressure the doctor told you about getting worse. Isn’t it?

“Goodnight, princess,” Eddie says, reaching over and ghosting his knuckles along your jawline. 

“Goodnight, Crush the Turtle.”

Eddie scoffs and playfully swats at you before leaning the other way to turn off his bedside lamp. 

The room plunges into darkness. The pain spasms in your back again and this time you sure as hell know what that was. You stretch as far as you can to click on the bedside lamp on your end. 

“Hmm?” Eddie pushes himself up onto an elbow and looks at you in concern. “What? What is it?”

“Shit,” you mutter as you try to push yourself up to a seated position. “Eds, I’m having contractions. This isn’t the carrying low crap anymore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he goes to get up, but then he pauses. A smile grows on his lips, and he shakes his head as he settles back down again.

“Nice try, babe,” he says. 

“What?” You furrow your brow and rest your hands on your bump. 

“I’m not falling for it,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “You thought if you waited until the end of the day, you’d be able to get me. But I’m wise to you.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you get out through gritted teeth. 

“Sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re talking to the man who once pranked his uncle by bringing a raccoon into his trailer. You’re gonna have to up your game.”

Pain rattles in your lower back once more. You’re this close to calling Wayne right now and scolding him for raising an absolute moron. But those plans are put on hold when you feel a trickle of liquid between your legs. 

You pull back the blankets and point towards your pajama shorts. “I’m. Not. Joking.”

Eddie’s eyebrows nearly scrape his hairline. “Oh, shit.” He sits up straighter, his body tensing. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you practically hiss. “And unless you want to accuse me of peeing myself to ‘keep the prank going,’ I suggest you get your ass in gear.”

“Y-Yeah. No. I mean, my ass is gearing. In gear.” Christ, this is his fourth time doing this, and he’s acting like it’s his first. “You wanna get changed, or…”

You bite your tongue to keep from making a snarky comment about hoping you get to sit in your amniotic fluid. “Yeah. Grab that god awful purple dress? I’m not putting on pants.”

After he gets you dressed, he helps you down the stairs to the ground level of your home.

“Why’d we buy a goddamn two-story?” you grumble. 

Eddie isn’t dumb, so he doesn’t remind you that you’re the one who fell in love with this house the minute you stepped inside. He leads you into the bonus room—soon to become the younger kids’ playroom—that’s between Luke and Ryan’s rooms, and gets you situated on the futon in there. 

“Ryan’s probably still awake.” Eddie instinctively looks at his wrist where his watch should be, but he forgot to put it on, all his focus securely on you. 

Even though it’s a school night, Ryan is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and he’s not going to go to sleep just because his parents told him to. He’ll give you guys going into his room at a certain time, but no way is he going to go right to bed.

Eddie knocks on Ryan’s door, hand itching to grab the handle and just barge in, but he restrains himself and waits for Ryan’s soft reply of, “Come in.”

The look on your son’s face as he tugs out his earbuds tells Eddie that he was prepared to be reprimanded about being up still, listening to music and reading. But Eddie is honestly thankful he’s still awake. 

“Ry,” Eddie says and ignores the little huff of annoyance the boy gives in return. “I need you to listen out for Eliza if she wakes up. We need to head to the hospital.”

Ryan is instantly up off his bed, his eyes wide as he pushes past his father in the doorway.

“The babies are coming?” Ryan’s head swivels until he spots you on the futon.

Mere feet away from the two Munson men, Luke’s bedroom door swings open, and his curly-haired head pops out into the hallway. Patch takes advantage of the fourteen-year-old’s door opening and darts out. 

“The babies are coming?!”

It will never cease to amaze Eddie that Luke won’t hear shit going on if he’s watching television, but he can have selected bat sonar hearing when he wants. 

Somehow managing to push yourself up off the futon, after scratching Patch’s ears and assuring him that you’re okay, you waddle over to the three of them, one hand on your belly and one on your back. You’re already practicing the breathing techniques you read about a few months ago. 

“Yeah,” you answer both boys. “Unless they’re learning how to pull an awesome April Fool’s Day gag.”

“They’re Munsons,” Luke says with a shrug. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

Wincing your way through a contraction, you move the hand on your belly to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do you have the hospital bag, Eds?” you ask.

“Shit,” Eddie grunts, dropping his head back. “Can one of you help her to the car while I go grab the bag?”

In true competitive brother spirit, they both insist on helping you. Nothing can be simple with them. 

Ryan grabs your jacket from the closet near the front door and helps you maneuver your arms into the sleeves. Luke kneels down and helps you slip into your comfiest pair of boots. It might technically be spring outside now, but it’s still chilly these Indiana nights. 

“Alright,” Eddie says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the hospital bag slung over his shoulder. “We ready to go?”

“Yes,” you groan and turn towards the door. 

But the sound of small, yet very heavy, footsteps upstairs gives you pause. They thunk down the stairs and you see a sleepy Eliza, one hand rubbing her eye, the other clutching her gold stuffed dragon Darla by the hand—or claw. 

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she mutters. 

Eddie steps forward to press a kiss to the top of her unruly curls.

“I’m taking Mommy to the hospital because it’s time for the babies to come.”

As he finishes his sentence, a rough contraction hits, this one feeling a little deeper. You wince and reach out to grab something to brace against. Ryan’s shoulder was the closest thing, so your fingers are curled into his pajama shirt. 

Eliza watches it all, her eyes widening as she sees her mother in pain. 

“Mama?” She dodges through everyone to get to you and slips her small hand into your larger one.

You do your best to smile through the pain, trying to reassure the little girl that you’re okay. 

“I’m okay, sweet pea. I just get a pain in my belly to let me know the babies are coming.”

The over-tired four-year-old’s bottom lip begins to wobble. Her emotions get the better of her, and the real crying starts. 

“I wanna come,” she says through her sniffles. 

Eddie crouches down and presses a kiss against her forehead. 

“You’re going to stay here with your brothers, okay? Ryan will tuck you in, and when you wake up in the morning, the babies should be here.”

Eliza shakes her head. “I wanna stay with Mama! Not the boys!” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Luke mumbles under his breath. 

You smooth back her hair, trying to diffuse the situation without wasting precious time. The last thing you want to do is deliver two babies on the kitchen floor. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll have Daddy with me, and you know he would never let anything happen to me.”

Another contraction grips you, and you squeeze Eddie’s hand in warning. If Eliza sees how much pain you’re in, she’ll never let you go. 

Luckily, Eddie receives your silent message. He crouches down in front of Eliza and offers her a reassuring smile. Fairly convincing considering the man is a bundle of nerves. 

“We’ll call you guys when the babies are born, okay? Even if it’s still nighttime and you’re still asleep. How about you go pick out a movie, and your brothers will watch it with you? Patch too, I bet. How about Mulan? Or Pocahontas?”

Ryan holds out his hand, which Eliza tepidly takes. “Come on. Let’s go pick something out.”

Eddie stands up in time to see Luke raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

His father leans in and whispers, “She’ll be out in less than half an hour; she just needs a distraction. Here.” Eddie hands Luke the hospital bag. “Bring this to the car, please.”

Luke dashes out to the car, drawing Eliza’s attention. She’d started to go with Ryan, but all plans for a movie are tossed out the window when she remembers that you’re leaving. 

Two little arms wrap around your thighs. “Mama, I wanna go with you!”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You rub her back, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt. “I love you.”

Eliza sniffles but reluctantly unravels herself. “I love you too.”

Eddie leans down and gives her one last kiss before putting his hand on the small of your back, helping you into the car.

He takes off down the road at warp speed.

“How you feeling, baby?” Eddie glances over at you before returning his attention to the dark road stretched out ahead of you. Trees line both sides of the highway and the only light comes from the full moon straight above you. 

One of your hands is gripping the handle on the roof, just above the car door. The other hand is splayed out on the console between you and Eddie, your nails digging into the leather. 

“Pain,” you grunt out. Your legs are spread, your booted feet bracing you against the floor mats.

Eddie nods, a sigh coming out of his nose like an anxious puff of air. 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he asks. 

“No,” you shake your head and wince when another contraction starts. 

“Do-Do you want to talk? Or do you want quiet?” Eddie just wants to make sure he can give you whatever makes you the most comfortable and at ease.

“Um.” You lick over your dry lips as you breathe through the contraction. “Quiet, I-I think.”

The drive to Hawkins Regional Hospital should only take about ten more minutes, but that feels like an eternity with the rate of intense spasms that wrack your lower body. The dull roar of the engine provides a soothing soundtrack as you close your eyes and rest your head back. You are only allowed a few brief moments of relaxation, though. A pop echoes out in the space of the car.

“What was—” Eddie goes to ask before he hears you.

“Oh boy.”

“What?” Eddie asks, trying to glance over at you, but also doing his damndest to get you both safely to the hospital as soon as possible. 

A trickle of water leaks down the insides of your legs, the sound not far off from when you’re out on a walk with Patch and he lifts his back leg to relieve himself on a fire hydrant. 

Now, Eddie can see the pool of water gathering on the mat between your boots. He nods his head as he slowly increases the pressure on the gas pedal. 

“Good call on the no pants,” he says. 

Not a minute after fluid stops leaking down your legs, you feel a shift inside you. 

“Whoa.” You give a small jump as it catches you by surprise. One hand comes up to rub over your swollen belly. “Baby Number Two is squirmy right now, geez.”

Luckily, Eddie turns the car into the emergency room parking lot and pulls right up to the automatic double doors. He leaps out of the car, and rushes inside to get some help. He comes back with a small Calvary. A male and a female nurse both help you into the wheelchair they’ve brought out, and various medical team members hover by for one reason or another. You don’t have the mental energy to give a shit at the moment. 

“I’m just gonna go park the car. I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

You don’t have much of a choice as an orderly forcefully pushes you through the sliding glass doors and into the main atrium. Your wet dress beneath you is unpleasant, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the contraction that strikes as you’re wheeled into the elevator. 

The minutes feel like hours between the pain and not having Eddie at your side. Mentally, you try and calculate how long it will take him to find a spot, get back into the building, ask reception where you are, then make his way back to you. It’s too damn long in your opinion.

Mint green walls greet you as you’re brought into your room. The white linoleum floors that squeak under nurses’ sneakers and the distinct tang of antiseptic shout out that this is still a hospital room, no matter how nice they make everything else look.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, let’s get you all set up.”

A hospital gown has never been a more welcome sight than when you’ve been sitting in amniotic fluid for the last twenty minutes. A nurse helps you change before helping you get comfortable in the bed—or as comfortable as you can possibly be. The medical team works like a well-oiled machine as they insert your IV, slip a blood pressure cuff on your arm, a finger sensor to monitor your oxygen, and two heart rate belts around your belly—one for each twin. 

Just as they’re securing the last belt into place, Eddie bursts into the room, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with sweat from exertion. With the way his breathing is labored, he looks like the one who should be hooked up to medical equipment. 

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out with a sigh. He dodges through the staff to get to your bedside. 

You’ve always known there were going to be more medical professionals in the room this time around because it’s twins, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking because it feels more intense than when you had Eliza. On one hand, it becomes scarier because you know there are more risks associated with twin births, but on the other hand, it’s reassuring that there is more help around you. 

“Eds.” You reach for his hand, and he’s quick to lace his fingers with yours. He presses a kiss to your forehead and then your knuckles. The backpack from home lands at his feet as he gives all of his attention to you. 

“How you feeling, princess?”

“I’m okay.” Both of you hear the slight shake in your voice, but Eddie doesn’t comment on it. 

“I heard someone ordered two babies today, huh?” Dr. Hahn smiles as she walks into your room. She gives you a playful wink as she grabs two latex gloves and slips them on. “Let’s check on the little rascals, shall we?”

Eddie tries to keep your focus on him as Dr. Hahn starts checking to see how dilated you are. 

“I brought the list of names,” he tells you with a soft chuckle. “I slipped it into the backpack.”

“Good.” You nod. “Still gotta narrow some of those down.” 

“Should we take bets on the sexes?” he asks.

The question brings a smile to your face, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave the betting to the boys. As long as the babies are healthy, I’m happy.”

“The fact that it became double or nothing when they found out there are twins still brings me such joy.” 

“Not necessarily,” you counter, but giggle at his words anyway. “Could be one of each. Then they both win. Or lose.”

“Who bet on what again?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up in thought. 

“Ryan said girl, Luke said boy.”

“Right. And I do love how they both have the Care Bear onesie they want the other to wear already picked out.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hahn says, not giving you a chance to respond to your husband. “It shouldn’t be very long at all. Second babies always come faster and so do twins. And you’re batting two for two there.”

“Thank you, Dr,” you say. 

When Eliza was born, you remember it feeling like a lifetime before you started pushing. You know this pregnancy and delivery are different than when you had your little sweet pea, but it’s hard not to compare this situation to the only comparable one you’ve ever been in before.

Dr. Hahn wasn’t kidding when she said it shouldn’t be very long. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you’ve only been in this bed for fifteen minutes before you’re told it’s time to start pushing. 

Eddie is ready at your side, one of his hands holding yours and the other squeezing your shoulder in gentle encouragement. A nurse stands on your other side, also holding your hand to help brace you for the exertion of pushing. 

“We’re about to push now, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says from the foot of the bed. 

You nod, any words dying on your tongue as you feel the telltale signs of a contraction beginning. 

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve got this.” Eddie rubs his hand soothingly over your shoulder blade as you lean forward, garnering the momentum to get things going. 

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, push!”

You grit your teeth and squeeze both Eddie’s and the nurse’s hands as you do what you’re told. The grip you have on both people at your sides has to be hurting them, but they’re both troopers and don’t so much as flinch. 

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages. 

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Hahn adds. “Keep it up.”

Keep it up? You know you have to, but your body is already exhausted. And you have a whole other baby to push out after this one. You silently decide that any woman who has delivered triplets or higher deserves a Medal of Honor. Twins are difficult enough. 

“Ah, here we go. I see the head,” Dr. Hahn says. 

A groan that’s a mixture of exertion and pain claws its way free on your next push. 

“Almost there, princess.” Eddie holds your hand in both of his and presses kisses against your white, straining knuckles. 

“Here’s the head. Alright, Mrs. Munson, we’re going to do one more really big push, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out through clenched teeth.

“Big push on three, okay? One, two, three.”

A strangled scream gets caught in your throat as you put all of your effort into getting this baby out of you. 

“There we go, good job,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Almost there, almost there…”

A shrill cry fills the room, and you fall back against your pillows, drenched in sweat and breathing like you just finished running a 5k. But you smile. It’s impossible not to with that beautiful noise coming from your newest child. 

“It’s a boy!” Dr. Hahn announces. The nurses wipe down your son—your son—as the doctor turns to Eddie. “Cutting the cord?”

“Of course.” Eddie carefully snips the cord where Dr. Hahn instructs, though he probably memorized the procedure. After all, this is his fourth kid. 

Dr. Hahn checks the position of the other baby before placing your wailing son on your chest. “Take a moment before the next baby arrives,” she says gently. 

You press a kiss to the baby’s scalp. He’s so perfect, so little and sweet. Even his cries are adorable. One tiny fist rests just above your breast as he soothes himself to your heartbeat. 

“Another boy,” Eddie muses. “We have three sons now.”

“Eliza is not going to be thrilled if there’s a fourth,” you say, though you know your daughter will probably claim the babies as her own, regardless of their genders. 

Eddie kisses your forehead. “I can’t believe this. I…” he swallows the emotion choking his throat. “…I love him so much already.”

“Me, too.” You smile, glancing down at the baby once again. Tears blur your vision. “Hi, sweet boy. I’m your mommy. Aw, I know, I know. It’s bright here on the outside.”

Eddie leans in, tears leaking out as he beams at his new son. “Hi, pal! We got another Munson man here to drive Mommy and Eliza crazy, huh? Welcome to the team.”

Dr. Hahn clears her throat kindly. “Baby B can arrive any time in the next five to thirty minutes,” she explains. “When you feel the urge to push, tell us.”

You nod, barely paying attention to her directions. You’re too in love with the little boy pressed to your heart. After a few minutes of cooing over him, a nurse offers to take the baby to be cleaned and get his vitals taken. 

After both of you keep your eyes glued to your new son as he’s being assessed, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks.

You tilt your head up and gaze at him with a sleepy smile.

“Exhausted. But so happy,” you tell him. “The contractions don’t feel as painful anymore.”

“That’s better. Now you’re all snuggled up.” A nurse smiles down at your son as she carries him in your direction. “Do you want to see your Daddy? He’s been waiting a long time to meet you.”

“He is absolutely worth the wait,” Eddie says as he accepts the baby. Pure pride gleams in your husband’s eyes as he takes in all the details of your son. The little button nose that scrunches just a bit whenever anyone makes too loud of a noise. The already-dark eyelashes that flutter against the apples of his rosy cheeks. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie takes a few steps closer to your bed and sits on the edge, twisting so you can see both him and the baby. The sight of your husband holding your baby boy brings tears to your eyes, which you quickly wipe away. Nothing is going to obscure your vision while you’re admiring your boys—not even tears.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach out and run your index finger over the small knuckles that are clenched into fists. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Just like his mom,” Eddie says.

With a bashful smile, you hide your face against the sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt. 

“Any names in mind?” Dr. Hahn looks up at you from where she’s reading over a chart. She gives you a smile when your eyes meet. 

“We have a handful of names,” you say, gaze turning back on your son. “We didn’t know the sexes beforehand, so we had to come up with a little collection to consider.”

“Smart,” Dr. Hahn says with a nod. “A lot of people who don’t find out the sex beforehand find unisex names.”

“We’ve got a few of those on the list,” Eddie confirms. 

To you, it feels like you’ve been holding your newborn for mere minutes, but your husband has been glancing at the clock every so often, his pulse speeding up every time you get closer to the thirty-minute mark Dr. Hahn mentioned. He notices you haven’t winced or appeared in pain from contractions during this time either. The last thing he wants to do is worry you as well, so he keeps quiet but keeps tabs on the medical team in the room, trusting they have control of everything. 

The moment the clock strikes thirty-one minutes past the first birth, a nurse comes over and gives you a kind smile.

“Okay, Mom, we’re going to start focusing on the next birth now. I’ll keep your little boy safe and sound over here in his cozy bassinet.” 

Reluctantly, you watch her take the little bundle and Eddie stands up from the edge of the bed. The nurse rolls the bassinet right on the other side of Eddie, so your husband is between you and the baby. 

Dr. Hahn walks over to the other side of your bed and tilts her head as she looks at you.

“I notice we’ve had contractions slowing down,” she says. “That happens sometimes, but we want to make sure we get them going again. I just sent for some Pitocin, which will kick them back into gear. Just hang tight for a few, and then we’ll get your other bundle of joy out here for you to hold.”

Eddie nods at the doctor, too nervous to thank her aloud. He doesn’t want to risk you hearing any trepidation or warble in his tone. You heard the doc, he says to himself. This happens sometimes. 

He releases a sigh of relief when the medication arrives only two minutes later. A nurse injects it into your IV line, and all Eddie can do is stare at the clock again. Next to him, your son begins to cry, so Eddie bends over him and gently strokes his beanie-clad head.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “I know, you miss Mommy, huh?”

A little hand reaches up towards the sky, and Eddie slips his forefinger into the tiny grasp. He chuckles at how tight of a grip the tiny man has on him. 

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a contraction coming,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitor near your head.

“Ah, shit,” you groan as a familiar wave of pain crashes over your body. 

Eddie is torn between the attention of the baby and wanting to hold your hand for support. Luckily, the bed and the bassinet are close enough that he’s able to hold both of your hands at once. Another glance at the clock tells him you’re closing in on forty minutes since the last birth. His heart hammers in his chest, the nerves right on the tipping point of becoming true fear. 

At minute forty-five, Dr. Hahn takes up her position at the foot of the bed again. 

“Okay, Mrs. Munson. It’s time to start pushing again.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages. “You got this.”

You nod at him before taking a deep breath, mentally psyching yourself up for another round. 

The pushing starts off just as it did last time. But after already doing this once and having the intensity and pain of the contractions come back within a matter of minutes, you find yourself overwhelmed. You wish for the moment you had not ten minutes ago, holding your son with your husband by your side. All smiles and excitement. The stabbing pain reminds you that that moment isn’t here anymore. Suddenly, the lights in the room feel hotter. The beeping of machinery sounds louder. All senses have been dialed up to eleven, as if the medication they gave you not only kicked the contractions into gear, but every other function of your body as well. 

As attuned to you as always, Eddie gives your hand a squeeze of encouragement. That small act of affection is enough to give you the strength for another push. 

“Okay, we’ve got the head,” Dr. Hahn says. 

“Agh!”

Eddie’s brow instantly furrows. This is the third time he’s seen you give birth, and you’ve never made that exclamation of pain before.

“What?” he asks urgently. 

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder and calls to the medical team, “We have a shoulder dystocia.”

“A what?” Eddie asks. 

“What’s wrong?” you pant out through labored breaths, face still pinched in pain. 

Dr. Hahn turns back towards you while one nurse steps out of the room, and two others come closer to the bed.

“Your baby’s shoulders are stuck, Mrs. Munson. We’re going to help them out now.” She turns to the nurses approaching the bed. “Let’s get her into McRoberts.”

Eddie’s stomach falls through the floor. Your baby is stuck? A shoulder what? Dystocia? What the hell is that? And what is McRoberts?

“Stuck?” is all Eddie manages to squeak out.

Dr. Hahn nods as the first nurse returns with, what looks like, other doctors. That can’t be a good sign, Eddie decides.

“Stuck on the pelvic bone,” Dr. Hahn says. “Mrs. Munson, we’re going to try and get you into a different position to see if that helps.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small, a punch to Eddie’s gut. 

“Mr. Munson, could you just step back a little bit? Nurse Jennifer needs to get in on that side.”

The moment Eddie’s hand lets go of yours, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The urge to push back in and wrap you up in his embrace is strong, but the logical part of his brain tells him he needs to stay out of the way and let the medical professionals do their job. The emotional part wants to kick that logical part’s ass though. 

“Mrs. Munson, Nurse Jennifer is going to work on that leg, pushing your knee up toward your chest, and Nurse Peter is going to do it with this leg. Don’t push while they do this, okay? Just breathe. Here we go.”

Eddie watches as each nurse takes one of your legs and hikes them up towards your head. He bounces from foot to foot, his hands coming up to rub over his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere to expel some of that nervous energy. Every terrifying thought flashes through his mind. What if I lose her? What if we lose the baby? What if I lose them both? His entire world hangs in the balance and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. He’s never felt so helpless in his entire life. There’s quite literally nothing he can do but stand there and watch it all happen.

A deep breath doesn’t do much to calm Eddie, but it helps enough for him to take a moment to lean down and whisper to your new son, “Use some of that twin telepathy, okay? You’re both Munsons and Munsons are strong. And no one is stronger than your Mama.”

It’s hard for Eddie to see you as Nurse Jennifer stands closer to your head now, holding your leg up at this new angle. Your husband looks up and sees the other medical staff hovering, which, in theory, should be comforting, but it just adds to the stress and fear he’s drowning in. 

“Is the baby okay?” your strained voice asks. 

“The baby is fine,” Dr. Hahn assures you—assures you both. “We’re just going to have to work a little harder, that’s all. Now, big push for me, okay?”

Your pained moans make Eddie’s heart ache. Nurse Jennifer steps slightly closer to your head, so Eddie takes advantage of the open spot between her and the foot of the bed. He’s standing just above where your pelvis is and he takes in every little detail of you, scanning for any and all possible issues. Your head flops back against the pillow and weakly tumbles to the side.

“Why don’t you try talking to her?” 

Eddie looks up to see that Nurse Peter is talking to him. The nurse nods his head towards your struggling form on the bed.

“Encourage her, keep her focused,” he says.

For the first time in his life, your husband doesn’t know what to say. 

Eddie nods and licks over his lips. For some reason, he wipes his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans. He mentally wonders what the hell he’s doing as he thinks about everything that you mean to him. His mouth opens and he just goes with it, becoming a pure stream of consciousness. 

“You’re so goddamn strong, Sweetheart. You pushed out one baby and now you’re about to push out another. Even with all of these tubes and needles and beeping things, you’re doing it. I could never do it. I mean, not just because I’m missing the, uh, parts—”

“Eddie,” you choke out as another bead of sweat slides down the side of your face.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Shut up about your ‘parts,’” you choke out with a terse huff of laughter. 

Eddie shakes his head before continuing. 

“You got this. You’re gonna push out this baby and our little family—well, not that little—will be complete. All because of you. Just keep going, okay? I’m right here.”

“Good, good, we’re making progress,” Dr. Hahn says. “Baby is coming out now. Mr. Munson, do you want to watch?”

If she had asked with the first baby, he probably would have said yes. But with all the adrenaline and emotion coursing through his body right now? He is not up to the task. 

“I think I’m gonna stay in this region over here,” he motions around your head and upper body area.

“We’re almost there. Keep pushing, Mama, you’re doing great.”

“You’ve got this, princess,” Eddie adds. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“There we go!” Dr. Hahn says. “She’s here.”

“She?” you ask, pain and weariness falling to the background now that your second baby is finally out. Tears stream rivulets down your face, but you refuse to let them keep you from speaking. 

“She,” your doctor affirms with a nod. “It’s a girl.”

“Is she okay?” Eddie asks. 

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder at where the newly-brought-in medical staff is.

“Neonatal—check for distress.”

A man in scrubs takes the baby from Dr. Hahn and brings her over to where her brother’s vitals were taken. You feel like you’re holding your breath, though. 

The nurses who held your legs gently release them back down and step out of the way so Eddie can get to you properly. He immediately cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Both of you have ragged breaths so he doesn’t hold the kiss for long. But once he pulls away, he’s kissing every part of you he can get his mouth on. Your face and hair are both drenched in sweat, but Eddie could not care less. You’re here and you’re safe and Eddie feels like he could collapse in your arms.

It’s quiet in the room though. The machines are still beeping. Sneakers still squeak against the linoleum. But it’s too quiet and it steals the breath from your chest. Oxygen is sucked out of the room and time seems to stop as your muscles lock and you freeze completely still. A very vital sound is missing.

A few deep inhales followed by a piercing cry cause you to fall apart. She’s breathing. Your baby is breathing and crying. Sobs wrack your body, and you lean into Eddie’s touch. He gently cradles your head as you wrap your arms tight as a vice around his waist. 

“She’s okay,” you say to yourself between sniffles. 

“You’re both okay,” Eddie responds. 

A few drops of water fall onto your forehead. You look up to see Eddie crying almost as hard as you are. Seeing the raw emotion pouring out of him tugs at your already sensitive heart. Your face crumples, and you fall into another round of sobs as you bury your face against his shirt. 

Both you and Eddie get the worst of your emotions out before you try to compose one another. By the time you do that, your little girl has been checked over and cleared. Nurse Jennifer walks over with your youngest baby, all bundled up in a white blanket dotted with pale yellow and green polka dots. A small pink cap is situated on her tiny head, and you couldn’t be smiling any wider as you accept her from the nurse. 

Every emotion and every hormone are surging through your body right now. The adrenaline crash has left you worn out and weak. But the moment you hold that baby girl, none of it matters.

When you look down at her, you see that your daughter is looking right back at you. A brighter grin than you would’ve thought possible to muster lights up your face. Slitted eyes take in your face almost as much as you’re taking in hers.

“There you are, gorgeous.” Your words are soft and as gentle as the newborns’ skin. 

Eddie wipes at his eyes and leans against the side of the bed. His head tilts to the side while he takes all of her in. The pink puckered lips. The sparse eyebrows that already twitch as if she’s displaying all of her emotions through them. She has him wrapped around her finger already.

“Hi, little angel,” Eddie says. “You’re already trying to upstage your brother, huh?”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh boy. Are we gonna have two dramatic little girls on our hands?”

You lean down and press a kiss to her smooth, unblemished forehead. The last thing you want to do is take your lips off of her, but you know Eddie is itching to hold her. 

Gently and carefully, you transfer your baby to her father. 

Once she’s in his arms, he does his damndest not to cry. To no one’s surprise, it doesn’t work very well. The memory of always wanting a baby girl when he was younger comes rushing back to him. Something in him always knew he was meant to be a boy dad and a girl dad, and he was just waiting for the opportunity for the second one to come along. And now here he is. The father to two daughters. Three boys and two little girls with the woman of his dreams. 

A faint beeping is the first thing you register. A phone? No. A smoke detector? No. Oh shit, that’s the monitor you’re hooked up to. 

Slowly, your eyes blink open only to be assaulted by the bright fluorescent light directly above you. You squint and shield your eyes as they adjust. 

A deep soreness permeates most of your body, but you feel rested and refreshed after getting some sleep. Eddie could see how tired you were and was eventually able to talk you into a nap. Something you assumed he would also take. But when you look towards the window, you see your husband sitting in an armchair, completely bleary-eyed, as he holds one of your babies. The baby is asleep though, so that’s something, you suppose. 

“Eds?” you call, voice a hair above a whisper. “Did you get any sleep?”

A tired smile graces his lips as he shakes his head. Gently, he stands up and lays the baby (who you can now see is your daughter) in her bassinet right next to her brother’s. 

Eddie goes to take a seat on the edge of your bed, but you carefully move over so there’s enough room for him to properly sit next to you, side by side. 

“I called the kids,” Eddie says as he situates himself. 

“Were they awake?” You look up at him and let out a large yawn. “Wait, what time is it now? What time did I even give birth?”

Eddie delicately wraps his arms around your shoulders to tuck you into his side.

“It’s almost 3 am now. I called around two, and the boys were still awake. Eliza fell asleep around half an hour after we left. The boys asked if the twins are girls or boys, but I told them they’d have to wait to see until they can meet them in the morning.”

You let out a sleepy chuckle as you let your head rest against your husband’s shoulder.

“Gonna keep the suspense on that bet going for as long as possible, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a grin. “And Baby Boy Munson was born at 12:28 and Baby Girl Munson was born at 1:26.” 

Though he doesn’t say anything else, you’ve known Eddie long enough to know that he wants to. His lips keep moving, as if he’s trying to psych them up to form words. You’re not going to pressure him, though. You give him time to gather his thoughts. It only takes a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, I…” he trails off and tears fill his eyes. “I was so fucking scared before. First, the baby is late, and your contractions went down. Then she gets stuck on the way out. Babe, every horrible scenario was running through my head. I was terrified I was going to lose you and a baby at the same time.” He sniffles and shakes his head, a hauntingly devastated look in his eyes. “Even if we hadn’t already decided that we’re not going to have any more kids, this would’ve convinced me. I can’t bear thinking about that, or something worse, happening again.”

“Oh, Eddie…” You slowly reach up and cup Eddie’s face in your hands. One thumb traces along his cheek bone. “It was scary. All I kept thinking was that I need her to be safe.”

“What about you?” Eddie asks. 

You take one hand off of Eddie’s face and wave it dismissively in the air. He gives you a reproachful look before you speak.

“I wasn’t thinking of me. Just that little baby who’s been with me for nine months. She was all that mattered in that moment. And Eddie?” You do your best to sit up a little straighter so you can look him in the eye. “If we hadn’t decided to not have any more kids, I’d have so many more of your babies. This didn’t deter me at all. It was a scary few moments, but now we have the rest of our lives with these little miracles. I’ll take that trade any day.”

Eddie sighs. He knows it would be a moot point to argue with you. Though you might not be a Munson by blood, just the name is enough for you to be considered stubborn and hard-headed. Nothing he could say would get you to put the importance of your own safety on the same level as your baby’s. But he knows if the roles were reversed, he would be the same way. You know it too and would absolutely wield that against him in a debate. The thought makes Eddie chuckle softly. He loves how he knows you so well, and how stubborn you can be—though he’s careful to never admit that out loud. 

“I love you so goddamn much,” he mutters.

“I love you, too.”

Eddie shifts carefully, handling you like you’re as fragile as porcelain. Part of you wants to tell him to cut it out, but the amount of pain you’re in makes it hard to argue with his gentle demeanor. His moves are slow and intentional as he cups the back of your head and presses a light kiss against your lips. Now this, you won’t stand for. Your hand that doesn’t have the IV needle stuck in it curls around your husband’s neck, and you force more pressure into the kiss. 

You feel his chuckle rumble against your lips. 

“You’re so difficult, you know that?” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“So I’ve been told.”

Despite how he shakes his head in bemusement, there’s a smile on Eddie’s lips as he pulls you against his chest. You happily mold against him, contorting to lay your head against his shoulder. From how you’re both positioned, you have a perfect view of both babies snoozing away in their bassinets. The two of you stay silent, enraptured in watching the newest members of your family. Each of them has a pacifier in their mouth, but your son’s moves up and down faster, his suckling more insistent in his sleep. Your daughter moves more in her sleep, though. Her little arms move in small circles, reminiscent of rowing a baby-sized boat. 

Eventually, you break the silence in a hushed voice.

“I guess we should finalize those names, huh? Unless we want to stick with ‘Baby Boy’ and ‘Baby Girl’ Munson.”

“Those do have a nice ring to them.”

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, Eddie reaches out and pulls your little boy’s bassinet closer to the bed. It allows you both to see his face better. 

“Well,” you say with a sigh, “since you won’t let me name him Edward after his dashing father…”

“Hey,” Eddie argues, “I agreed to it as a middle name. And I still think Charles would be funny.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lift your head to stare down your husband.

“Charles Munson? With us, his Munson family?”

Eddie laughs softly, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just kidding, you know that.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m strictly against naming our children after murderous cult leaders.”

“What about cult leaders that didn’t commit murder?” you question.

“Those I’ll consider.”

You huff a laugh, half fueled by exhaustion, as you nuzzle your face against Eddie’s t-shirt. A large, warm hand rubs up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Out of the few boy names we narrowed it down to, which do you think fits him the most?” he asks. 

You turn your head to look back at your newborn son. A couple of the names on the list automatically are scratched off the list in your mind; they just aren’t him. Next, your brain scrolls through the unisex names you can recall. 

“He looks like Hayden to me,” you finally say.

Eddie grins and looks down at you. “I was just thinking the same thing. Hayden Edward Munson.”

“H.E.M.”

“Sounds like a good name for a band, those initials,” Eddie comments. “Alright. It’s your sister’s turn, Hayden.”

Eddie gingerly pushes Hayden’s bassinet back to where it was and pulls your daughter’s forward. Once she’s in the position her brother just held, Eddie hums as he rests his head against yours. Most of the names the two of you had on your list were for girls, so this task is going to take a little more time and deduction. 

“Wanna try out a few?” Eddie asks. “See how they feel?”

You nod and pick your head up to address the bundled-up baby. 

“Hi, Chloe.” 

Immediately, your nose wrinkles up and you shake your head, Eddie shaking his as well. It doesn’t suit her. 

“What about Dianna?” Eddie asks. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Nah, don’t think so. Amy?”

As if voicing her own opinion, your baby girl starts to whine. She squirms around more than she did in her sleep and lets the pacifier fall out of her mouth. Her little lungs inhale a few breaths, and Eddie carefully slips out from underneath you to scoop her up before she can start properly crying. 

“Okay, okay, not Amy,” Eddie says as he picks her up. He sways back and forth next to your bed, gently bouncing the little bundle.

“Her least favorite March sister, I guess,” you joke.

“Well, duh,” Eddie says with a scoff. “She stole Laurie from Jo.”

“No, that’s not…” You smile to yourself and give a slight shake of your head. “That’s a topic for another time.”

A nasally “wah” rings out of your daughter, Eddie’s preemptive strike not enough to keep her from crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie frowns and tries bouncing her with a little more fervor. “Do you want your mommy? She’s right here. It’s okay.”

Eddie gives you a few moments to situate yourself on the bed, readying to accept the baby from him. You hold your arms out and he delicately transfers her. 

The moment she’s in your arms, her name strikes you. It’s as if the moment you had contact with her, she spoke to you, telling you what you’ve always been meant to call her.

“You’re Scarlett, aren’t you?” You grin down at her.

Immediately, her cries cease. She turns her small head and nuzzles her little button nose against your arm.

Eddie watches, an adoring smile on his face. He cautiously sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” he says. “Hello, my little Scarlett. You almost gave Daddy a heart attack today, you know that?”

“No offense,” you say, quirking an eyebrow up at your husband, “but I think she put my body through more than yours today.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth kicks up in a smile as he nods his head in agreement.

“What about a middle name?” he asks.

“Can I see the list?” you ask. 

The backpack had been kicked halfway under the bed during the course of events this evening, so Eddie bends at the waist to retrieve it. He slips the worn paper out from the front pouch and holds it up for both of you to look over. Your eyes scan down the numerous names, some scratched out or spellings changed over these past nine months.

“How about Aurora?” you suggest.

“Scarlett Aurora Munson. Sounds pretty damn beautiful to me.”

Already as dramatic as his father it seems, Hayden begins to fuss about not being part of the conversation.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie says as he picks Hayden up. He cradles the baby to his chest and lightly boops the tip of his nose. “So does Hayden Edward Munson.”

You watch in adoration as Hayden settles down. Your husband holds him with such tenderness and care. A look back down at your daughter shows she’s drifted off to sleep again. A warmth bubbles up from your stomach, settling in your chest. 

“I can’t believe we’re the parents of twins,” you say in breathless wonder.

Eddie steps closer as he sways back and forth.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m a parent.”

Light as a feather, so as not to disturb her, you run your finger over Scarlett’s tiny knuckles. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held countless babies before, it still astonishes you how small they truly are when they start out. Eliza was once this little. So were Luke and Ryan, even if you didn’t know them then. 

“You guys are going to love it here,” you tell the twins. “You have the best big brothers and big sister.” 

“Who can’t wait to meet you,” Eddie adds. “And there’s a crazy dog named Patch. He’s a good boy.”

“And your room looks just like you’ve walked into the Hundred Acre Woods.”

“Or, if we carried you in there,” Eddie says. “Since you guys can’t walk yet.”

“There’s Pooh Bear and Piglet and Tigger and Rabbit,” you go on. “All the cool ones.”

“And it won’t be long until your sister introduces you to the princesses. I give it less than twenty-four hours, honestly.”

You chuckle, knowing your husband is absolutely correct. A mental image of Eliza bringing out the little chalkboard that’s in her room tickles you. You can picture her setting it up in front of the twins while they rock back and forth in their swings. She would give them a thorough education, that’s for sure.

“You two have so many people who already love you so, so much,” you tell the babies. “Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins to play with. And the coolest grandpa.”

“And you have me and Mommy,” Eddie adds. “And I’ll tell you a secret…we love you guys more than any of those other people do.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod in agreement. 

“We’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to the world.”

“It’s not always great,” Eddie says, “but you’re always going to have your family behind you when things get tough. Cause Munsons stick together.”

Scarlett smacks her lips together and turns her face up in your direction. You carefully lean down and press a kiss on her forehead.

“You made our family complete, guys. And we’re so happy that you did. Our little Hayden and Scarlett.”

“That box is probably going to go in my and Mama’s closet,” Eddie tells her as he unpacks a box of spare sheets and places them on the second-highest shelf in the bathroom linen closet. 

Most of the house is still packed up, whether in cardboard boxes, suitcases, or clear storage containers. Your family has only lived in the new home for a little over two weeks now. It had been your hope that most rooms would be clear of boxes by now, but your over-protective husband refuses to let you lift even the smallest and lightest of boxes now that you’re entering your third trimester of your pregnancy with the twins. 

“Can I see them?” Eliza asks, trying to pry open the cardboard flaps with her small hands. 

“Sure,” Eddie says. He puts the last sheet away and walks into the master bedroom from the en suite bathroom. Eliza climbs up on your bed as her father lifts the cardboard box onto the mattress as well, pulling it open for her. Truth be told, he’d much rather have Eliza occupied here with looking at pictures than getting in the way of all the unpacking going on. The little girl may have good intentions when she tries to help, but the results are never positive. 

Eliza pushes herself up onto her knees and peers into the box. She hooks her armpits over the edge and picks up a small, clear box full of photographs. She plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs beneath her. The lid clicks as she yanks it off the container and sets it to the side. 

Tiny fingers shuffle through the stacks, her interest only catching if she recognizes anyone in the photos. A picture of Wayne holding up a large fish makes her smile, and she laughs at a picture of baby Luke with spaghetti sauce all over his face. 

“Whatcha doing?” you ask as you step into the room.

Eliza’s head pops up, and she gives you a smile full of baby teeth. 

“Looking at pictures!”

You walk–or waddle–over to the bed and take a seat next to your daughter. Eddie comes back into the bedroom, another large cardboard box in his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes rake over his arms in his muscle tee cut from an old Iron Maiden shirt. Your husband throws you a cheeky wink as he sets the box down on the floor in front of your closet. 

“Who’s this?” Eliza’s voice interrupts before you can give Eddie some sort of flirty response. 

You lean in towards her and peer down at the photo in her hands. 

“That’s Aunt Nancy’s mom. You’ve met her a few times.”

“I don’t remember,” Eliza says, shaking her head. 

“Well, it’s been a while.”

The little girl’s curly pigtails bob every time she places a photo she’s already viewed down on the mattress. She goes through about a dozen more pictures before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, peering over her shoulder.

“Look at Ryan!” Her voice is giddy and high as she turns her hands so you can see. 

You can’t keep your own laughter in as you take in a younger Ryan covered in flour from the top of his golden brown hair, down to the knees of his jeans.

“How did he do that?” Eliza asks. 

“I think that’s when he was making the cake for your first birthday,” you say, recalling the memory. “He said he could do it all by himself, and then this is what I walked into the kitchen to see.” 

Eliza giggles harder and shakes her head as she looks at her brother in his messy state.

“Was the cake good?” she asks.

“I think it was,” you say.

“You must’ve loved it because you shoved fistfuls of it into your mouth,” Eddie tells her with a playful smirk. 

Your daughter sticks her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to the pictures. She flips through photo after photo, observing most of them with an attention span you didn’t know she possessed. When a frown pinches her brow, you’re ready to lean over and inform her who some unknown person is. But she doesn’t ask. She sets the picture down right on the bed in front of her and stares down at it. 

“That lady,” Eliza says at the same moment you lean in to see the photo. You inhale a deep breath as you take in the image.

It’s the Munson house from when you first met your husband and the boys––and Brittany. A tall pine tree is erected in the living room, decorated with elaborate Christmas decorations. In front of the tree and a large pile of presents, sit Eddie, Ryan, Luke, and their biological mother. 

“That’s the mean lady,” Eliza says, and you suddenly go from feeling awkward as you searched for something to say, to trying to hold in your laughter. 

At your daughter’s words, Eddie picks his head up out of the box and looks over at the two of you. He raises his eyebrows in question, and you nod in confirmation. 

The four-year-old lifts her head and looks up at you with her wide, brown eyes. 

“Why is she there?” she asks. “Where are you? Where am I?”

Taking a deep breath, you rest a hand on your little girl’s small back. 

“Liza, you remember how we talked about there being lots of different kinds of family, right?”

She nods her head. 

“Like how Heather has both Aunt Robin and Aunt Vickie as mommies,” she says.

“Right,” you say softly. “Well, our family is our own special kind of family.”

“The mean lady is family?” Eliza asks. You don’t miss the way Eddie covers up a snort of laughter with a cough. 

Buying yourself a moment to think of how to articulate this to your four-year-old, you take a deep breath in. The intricacies of the different dynamics fly through your head, but you realize those aren’t the answers she needs right now. 

“She’s Ryan and Luke’s mom,” you say.

Eliza’s little face scrunches up in further confusion.

“You Mama,” she says. “My mama, Ryan’s mama, Luke’s mama.”

“Right,” you say with a nod. You can’t even imagine how this all sounds to someone so young, and the last thing you want to do is confuse her even more. “I am. But do you remember how we told you that you grew in my belly? Hmm? How you always point to my middle in the wedding photo of me and Daddy and say you’re in there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Ryan and Luke didn’t grow in my belly. They grew in her belly.” You nod down to the photo. “Her name is Brittany.”

“Brittany,” Eliza repeats, looking down at the picture, and you swear the disdain for the woman must be in the Munson genetics with the way her tone turns caustic. She studies the four faces from that Christmas morning for a few moments before meeting your eyes again. “Where are me and you?”

“You weren’t born yet, sweet pea,” you say, gently brushing a stray curl off her forehead. 

“Were you?” Eliza asks innocently. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“Yes, baby girl. But I didn’t know Daddy, Ryan, or Luke then.” You lean in to get a better look at the boys, trying to discern their ages in the photo. “I think I met them a few months after this was taken.”

“Why is she there?” Eliza’s chubby pointer finger smudges over the image of Brittany’s obnoxiously pretty face. 

“Because she was married to Daddy then. She was his wife before I was.”

It’s a miracle you don’t hear a loud crack with the speed at which Eliza turns her head to look at her father. Her eyes are wider than you think you’ve ever seen them. She looks horrified, and Eddie looks like he wishes he were anywhere else. Or that he’s hoping for a hole to crawl into. 

“Daddy?” Eliza says in an accusatory tone. 

Your husband stands up straight and rubs his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. You can’t help but think he looks suspiciously like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “Back before I knew Mommy, I was married to Brittany. And then, uh, she grew Ryan and Luke in her belly and had them.”

Eddie sits down on the other side of your daughter and keeps up his nervous twitch of rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. 

“Are you still married to her?” Eliza asks. 

“No,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Brittany and I got a divorce, which means we stopped being married. Then I married Mama.”

The little gears are clearly working in your daughter’s head to try and comprehend all of this information. 

“So she stopped being their mommy, too?” 

“No,” Eddie says, his voice a little shaky. “She’s still their mom.”

“But you are,” Eliza says, swinging her head around to look at you. “You’re Ryan and Luke’s mama.”

“I am,” you say with a nod. “Just because I didn’t grow them in my belly doesn’t mean that I’m not their Mama.”

“Where is she?” Short curls bounce as Eliza looks back down at the picture.

“She doesn’t live around here,” Eddie explains. 

“How come? She’s Ryan and Luke’s mommy. She doesn’t wanna live with them?” 

The confusion and innocence in your daughter’s voice crack your heart. To her, it makes no sense that a mother wouldn’t want to live with–or at least near–her children. All she’s been surrounded by in her four years are her parents and aunts and uncles, who all love their kids more than life. It hurts your soul that her naive, childlike worldview is being pierced by this unfortunate truth. 

“No,” Eddie says sadly with a shake of his head. “She doesn’t.”

The expression on your daughter’s face solidifies into a mixture of confusion, anger, and hurt on her brothers’ behalf.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“But they’re the best.” Eliza’s voice gains an edge, defensiveness creeping into her tone.

“We know,” you say, wrapping an arm around your daughter’s small shoulders. “That’s why we would never leave them or not want to live with them. We know that the three of you are the best kids in the whole wide world. We love you all more than anything. These babies, too,” you say, placing your free hand on your baby bump. 

Eliza lifts the photo of the former family and holds it up at eye level.

“Do they miss her?” she asks.

“No,” you tell her honestly. “They don’t really want to talk to her.”

“She’ll call them sometimes,” Eddie adds. “They might talk to her for a little while, but they don’t like it. They do it because they feel like they have to.”

“Do they?” Eliza asks, looking up at her father. “Have to?”

It takes your husband a moment to answer. You both know that the technical answer is no, they don’t have to. But the two of you try to set a good example by saying they should at least say hello to their mother once in a while when she calls. The calls become less frequent every year, and you have a feeling it won’t be long now until they just start ignoring her altogether. You can’t say you blame them one bit. 

“No,” Eddie replies. “They do it to be nice.”

Eliza’s face contorts into a pout. 

“She’s not nice,” she points out. 

“Just because other people aren’t nice doesn’t mean that we don’t want to be nice people, right?” you ask. This is another topic that is too nuanced for her little mind to truly grasp, but the blanket “be nice” rule still needs to be obeyed by her at this age. 

“I guess,” Eliza says, though she doesn’t sound quite convincing. 

Before either you or Eddie can say anything else, a voice calls down the hall. 

“Daaaaaad? Maaaaa?”

Luke steps into the doorway of your room, a grin plastered on his face. He clearly wants something.

“Can we get pizza? Ahh! What the…?”

Your younger son is startled as his four-year-old sister jumps up and rushes at him. She leaps onto him, wrapping both her arms and legs around him, giving him no choice but to hold her up.

“I love you, I love you, I love youuuu!” Eliza chants.

Luke looks down at her and cocks an eyebrow. 

“Okay. I invented this trick, kid,” he says. “What do you want?”

A half-emptied box of Crayola crayons stands in the middle of the table in the downstairs playroom, its fallen soldiers scattered around the rest of the surface. Most are intact, but Hayden has quite a heavy hand when it comes to coloring, so there are a few that have been snapped clean in half. 

“How do you spell Nerf?” Hayden asks his twin sister as he twirls a Grass Green crayon between his fingers. 

Across the table, Scarlett shrugs her shoulders as she keeps her Hot Magenta crayon scribbling along her piece of paper. 

Down the hall, a bedroom door creeks open, and Hayden doesn’t hesitate to call out for assistance.

“Luke!”

“Hayden!” Luke calls back at the same volume as he makes his way into the playroom.

“I need help,” the younger brother says.

“How may I be of use?” Luke sits down on the soft carpet on the left side of the small table. 

“How do you spell Nerf?”

Luke assists his little brother before curiously peeking at each of the twins’ lists. He gets a stark reminder that he isn’t a child himself anymore when he doesn’t know what a third of the words on their lists mean. His eyes widen when he spies an all-too familiar item on Scarlett’s list, though.

“How do you know what a Furby is?”

“Furby Booms are little fuzzy robots,” Scarlett answers, pausing in her writing to look up at him. “Both Brie and Vanessa have them.”

“These are a new thing?” Luke asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Scarlett says as she goes back to her list.

“Why would they bring them back?” Luke asks, mainly to himself. “Furbies are minions of the anti-Christ.”

“What?” Hayden looks up at his brother in confusion. 

A shudder goes through Luke at the memory of the haunting toys from his childhood.

“They’re creepy,” he says. 

“Not the striped ones,” Scarlett says.

“Don’t let the pretty colors fool you,” Luke warns. “That’s how they get you.”

“They what?” Hayden asks, eyes widening in alarm.

“No, they don’t get you,” you say as you walk into the room. You raise an eyebrow down at Luke on the ground, and he just gives you his trademark mischievous smile. “Stop scaring the children.”

“You say that like I am not still among the children,” Luke says, feigning offense.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you say as you reach down and pat the top of his head. “You’re like your dad. You’ll always be one of the children.”

“Mama, what’s that Barbie I wanted?”

You don’t get a chance to remind her that it’s the veterinarian Barbie doll before you hear the front door of the house open. The crinkle and swish of plastic bags let you know that Eddie and Ryan are back from the grocery store.

“Alright, who’s ready to go see Santa?” Eddie calls out into the house. 

Scarlett reaches up and slides her hand into Luke’s. The twenty-year-old’s fingers instantly wrap around the smaller hand and give a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Luke says quietly, loud enough for only his youngest sister to hear. 

Instead of replying, Scarlett stands even closer to her brother, hiding behind the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Scarlett,” Eliza says as she notices her sister’s trepidation. She walks over and wraps her arm around Scarlett’s small shoulders. “You met Santa before.”

“I know,” Scarlett answers in a mumble.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Eliza insists. Her hands move to the white bow at the end of Scarlett’s braid, and she tightens it for her. 

The five-year-old girl nods, but it’s clear by the look on her face that she’s not comforted at all. 

Hayden is oblivious to his twin’s discomfort, too focused on the shrinking line ahead of them and mentally repeating the name of the Nerf gun he wants so he doesn’t forget it. 

“You know,” Luke says, shaking Scarlett’s hand playfully, “when Dad took us to meet Santa one year, Ryan almost peed on his lap.”

“What?!” Hayden asks, the statement catching his attention.

Scarlett giggles softly as she looks up at Luke. Her bigger brother nods his head in confirmation.

“Right, Ryan?” Luke calls to the eldest brother, who is waiting on the other side of the red velvet rope, observing rather than partaking in the actual line.

“What?” Ryan asks, leaning in to hear better.

“Remember when you almost peed—“

“Oh my God,” Ryan huffs. “The line was taking forever, and I had to go!”

All four of his younger siblings laugh. 

“How old were you?” Hayden asks.

“Like, six, I think,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

“That’s older than me,” Scarlett points out with a smile. Luke smiles as well, glad the story had its intended effect. 

Standing next to Ryan, a long-ago memory floats to the front of your mind. You tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes as you try to recall the specifics. 

“Wait a minute,” you say. “Was that the year when I asked you two what you wanted for Christmas, and Luke, you told me to get Ryan diapers? And then you cackled like it was the funniest thing in the world?”

You look to your husband standing on your other side, looking to him for confirmation. 

Eddie heaves out a sigh and runs his hand over his brow.

“I don’t think I was there for that, but yeah, sounds like Luke.”

“It was!” There’s a proud smile on Luke’s face. The second-born always looks eerily similar to his father, but the smug smile he’s currently sporting makes them damn near identical. 

“That was the first Christmas I knew you,” you say with a fond grin. A pang of nostalgia hits you in the chest when you think of the four and six-year-old boys you met almost two decades ago now. 

“Did you buy Ryan diapers for Christmas?” Hayden asks. It’s clear from the expectant look on his face and the excited gleam in his eye that he wants you to say yes. 

“No,” you answer with a laugh.

“Meh.” Hayden’s shoulders slump in disappointment. 

“Do you want us to get you diapers for Christmas?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at your youngest son. 

Scarlett bursts into a fit of giggles at the idea, and an amused grin grows on Eliza’s face, no doubt picturing how that Christmas morning in front of the tree would go. 

“No!” Hayden’s large brown eyes widen in alarm. “I want–”

“Hold that thought,” Luke says, gently shaking his brother’s shoulder.

 You’re silently glad for the interruption because you feel as if you’re going to explode if Hayden says the words “Nerf gun” one more time. 

Luke gestures to the line, and the twins turn to see they’re the next ones up.

“Save it for Santa,” Luke follows up. 

Scarlett’s small body visibly tenses, but she’s obviously not as scared as before. Eliza steps between her two younger siblings and holds a hand out to each of them. Hayden slaps his palm down on hers, making your eldest daughter wince and scowl at the boy. It’s a look no one ever wants to be on the receiving end of—he’s lucky it’s Christmastime, and she’s in the mindset of being good. Scarlett slowly slips her hand out of Luke’s and places it in Eliza’s. 

The helper elf brings the children in front of the Munsons over to meet Santa, and Luke takes the opportunity to slip beneath the red velvet rope to stand alongside you, Ryan, and Eddie. But not before leaning forward and whispering one last thing in Scarlett’s ear.

“Just make sure you don’t pee on Santa.”

The littlest Munson giggles and walks up to Santa with her siblings, a smile on her face. 

“Because he’s my friend,” Eliza defends, her cheeks darkening a few shades. 

“He’s our friend,” Luke says. 

“We’ll ask him,” Ryan says, kicking his younger brother’s leg underneath the table. 

October arrived, reds and golds coloring the Indiana landscape, and cooler weather finally starting to settle in. Along with autumn, fall sports come back around. Which, in the Munson household, meant Luke had hockey practice a few times a week, and then some games added into the mix. It’s not surprising to anyone who has ever met Luke that he is friends with every single player on the team. Out of his best friends that he plays with, Owen is one who comes over after practice the most often. Much to the delight of one Eliza Munson. 

“Owen!” Eliza skips down the stairs the moment the front door closes behind the two sixteen-year-old boys. They’re both covered in dry sweat that’s caked up on their face, the brown hair on each of them is matted down from the oppressive helmets they were wearing, and they smell far from pleasant. Does your daughter seem to care? Somewhat. She cares that her brother is in such a state, but not his cute friend. 

“Hey, Eliza,” Owen says with a smile. No one has clued the boy in on the little girl’s massive crush on him, but even he can see that she has an affinity for him over Ryan and Luke’s other friends. 

Luke doesn’t bother to hide his eyeroll as the grin widens on his sister’s face. Eliza ignores her brother, other than wrinkling her nose up in disgust when she walks by him and gets a whiff of BO. Somehow, to her small nose, Owen smells perfectly fine. 

“How was hockey?” Eliza asks Owen.

“Good,” Luke answers her, just to be a pain in the ass—also known as a typical older brother.

Eliza shoots a glare rivaling that of her father over her shoulder. 

“Was good,” Owen echoes when the four-year-old’s attention lands back on him. “How was school?” 

The little girl practically swoons at the casual, polite question. 

“It was fun! I had a spelling test, and I did good. I’m one of the best in my class!”

“I believe that,” Owen says, giving her an encouraging smile. 

Luke thinks Owen might as well have proposed to her with the way she lights up at the words. 

“Okay, then go practice your spelling,” Luke says, placing a hand on top of his sister’s curls and shoving her back towards the stairs. 

Ever the Munson drama queen, she bats his hand away and levels a withering gaze in his direction.

“I just said I’m good! I don’t need to practice!” she argues. 

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” Eddie asks as he strolls out of the kitchen, Scarlett sitting happily on his hip. The six-month-old’s large eyes take in the scene before her. 

“Eliza was just going,” Luke grumbles, a hand running over his dirty curls. 

Eddie’s eyes land on Owen, and he immediately realizes what the issue is. As much as Eddie isn’t a fan of his daughter having a crush, he does genuinely like Owen and thinks he’s a good kid and a good friend for his sons. 

“Hey, Liza,” Eddie says, getting the attention of the small girl. “Scarlett just got her mashed bananas all over her onesie. Want to help me pick out a new outfit for her? You know I’ll just pick out something that doesn’t match. Again.”

Eliza knows that all too well. She gives an over-dramatic sigh and nods her head, albeit reluctantly. She knows she’s the only thing that stands between her little sister and a fashion disaster. 

“Come on, Scarlett,” Eliza intones, heading back towards the stairs. “Wait!” She comes to a halt and spins back around towards Owen. “Did Ryan or Luke tell you about my birthday party?”

Owen looks up from where he’s kicking his shoes into the corner, where the rest of the family keeps theirs by the door. 

“Oh! Yeah,” Owen says. “Ryan said you wanted me to come?”

“Yes, please,” Eliza says, her tone as sweet as it’s ever been. Luke wants to puke. 

It’s the fluttering eyelashes and head tilted to the side that grate on Eddie’s nerves. 

“Sure,” Owen says with a chuckle. 

Eliza’s face lights up as if she were just told she gets to meet The Little Mermaid. Even Eddie has to admit how adorable it is, even if he is not a fan of the cause. 

“Yay!” Eliza runs over and wraps her arms around Owen’s waist, her head pressing against his stomach.

Owen gives out a surprised puff of air before patting her back a few times. He looks over to Luke, who is rolling his eyes. 

“Liza. Go.” The command would be more effective if his voice didn’t crack at that particular moment. Damn it, he thought all of that was behind him by now. 

It’s only the stirring cry from Scarlett that has Eliza snapping back into reality. She looks over at her baby sister and realizes she’s uncomfortable in her dirty clothes. As infatuated Eliza is with Owen, it will never come in the way of her being a good big sister.

“Come on, Daddy,” Eliza says, heading towards the stairs again. 

“Coming.” 

Eddie waits until his eldest daughter is a few steps up before leaning in and whispering to Owen. 

“You don’t have to come, it’s fine.” 

He’s fully aware that part of giving Owen this out is purely for self-serving purposes. He doesn’t care.

Owen chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“You’re gonna regret that,” Luke grumbles. “And so will I.”

As a surprise to absolutely no one, Eliza is one of the most popular kids in her preschool class. Which means almost the entire class shows up. Which means there are a dozen kids running through the house and backyard of the Munson residence—and that’s before adding in the children of his own friends. Which means Eddie wishes he had a bottle of whiskey to spike his Coke with. 

Eliza is wearing her favorite pink dress, the skirt made of tulle, with sparkly three-quarter sleeves. Your little girl always claims it makes her look like a ballerina princess, which you’re pretty sure is constantly the vibe she’s going for. To make it even more official today, you had presented her with a birthday tiara that you and Eddie had found at the store while shopping for party supplies last week. Eliza’s brown eyes widened with excitement, and she eagerly knelt down to have you coronate her as the official Birthday Princess. The crown had caught in her curls a few times since then, but you were quick to alleviate any further knots. 

And as bad as Eddie thought he had it with a house full of screaming children, you were the one who was doing most of the hosting duties. Greeting parents, making sure kids don’t go upstairs, seeing that the refreshment table doesn’t run out of anything. You get more than a few sympathetic looks from the other mothers.

“Eds, can you go keep an eye on the bounce house outside?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice.

“Isn’t Ryan doing that?” your husband asks.

“Yeah,” you say, refilling the bowl of pretzels. “But I just saw Owen out the front window, so Ryan’s gonna wanna hang out with him.”

“Owen?” Eliza asks, practically sliding into the room on her white stocking-clad feet. 

“Jesus, does she have a sixth sense?” Eddie mutters under his breath. 

You put a chip clip on the pretzels bag and walk over to open the front door. 

“Hey, Owen. Come on in,” you say, stepping to the side.

“Hi, Mrs. Munson,” Owen says with a smile. He nods towards Eddie. “Mr. Munson.”

“Hey, Owen,” Eddie says. He then turns to you and whispers, “We don’t happen to have any Jack Daniels, do we?”

You playfully swat your husband with the bag of pretzels as your daughter flits over to Owen, the pink skirts of her dress swaying back and forth with the motion.

“Hi, Owen!” She beams.

“Hey, Eliza,” Owen says, giving her a smile. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” Her tone is almost shy and it’s such a departure from her usual attitude. “I like your shirt.”

“Oh,” Owen says as he looks down at his Iron Man tee. “Thanks.”

“You don’t even know what that symbol means,” Luke says as he walks into the room, gesturing to the arc reactor graphic on his friend’s shirt. 

Eliza’s eyes narrow as she stares at her older brother. Evidently, she decides she doesn’t have an argument for that, because she quickly turns back to Owen, glare replaced by a sickeningly sweet grin.

“Do you want some cookies?” she asks. “I made them with Mama.”

“Owen doesn’t like cookies,” Luke says, an obvious lie. 

“I–,” Owen goes to counter Luke when a snicker of a laugh comes from the staircase. 

Ryan sits on the fifth step up, your camera in his hands as he records the interaction. The amused smile on his face is enough to tell you that your eldest has been waiting for this particular moment all day. It’s kind of funny, you think to yourself, how Ryan and Luke have almost swapped personalities when it comes to Eliza’s crush on Owen. Ryan is just along for the ride, having a good time. Luke is taking things more seriously. Then again, Luke is at his peak teenage hormonal-ness right now. 

You can’t help but feel bad for Owen; the poor kid had no idea he was walking into a soap opera today. 

“Why aren’t you in the backyard?” Eddie asks Ryan. 

The seventeen-year-old lowers the camera and presses his lips into a thin line, not having a response that will please his father. The truth was, “because I’m here recording both you and Luke about to have an aneurysm over a five-year-old’s crush,” but even the six-month-old twins asleep upstairs would’ve known not to voice that out loud. 

“Eddie, please,” you say with a sigh, gesturing towards the backyard, where you can hear kids laughing as they jump around in the inflatable castle. Your husband takes a sip of his Coke, once again wishing it had that familiar burn of alcohol in it and turns towards the back door. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on Owen until the very last second, though. The urge to yell, “she’s only in preschool, for God’s sake!” at the retreating man is strong, but you somehow manage to resist. 

“Come on, Owen!” Eliza grabs the older boy’s hand and starts to drag him towards the backyard as well. Right away, you know you’re going to stay inside the house, not needing to be around whatever chaos is about to unfold out there. 

Luke groans, and Ryan climbs down the stairs, hand pounding down on Luke’s shoulder. 

“You know you can’t win,” Ryan says. 

“Think I can bribe one of these boys her own age to sweep her off her feet?” Luke asks flatly. He looks over at one of the children in question, and he lets out a deflated sigh as the little boy sneezes into his own hand and wipes it on the side of the couch. 

“If you want your father to disown you, sure,” you say with a smirk before heading into the kitchen. 

Ryan just laughs as the two brothers follow behind the birthday girl and her crush. 

“You know,” Ryan says as he and Luke join Eddie, Steve, and Wayne out on the back patio. The men watch as Eliza tugs Owen into the bounce house with her. “I don’t know why you didn’t use this opportunity to your advantage.”

Luke’s brow furrows, and he looks over at his older brother. 

“What do you mean?”

Ryan crosses his arms over his chest, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“You know Eliza loves Maddie,” he says. “One nudge from you and Eliza would’ve happily invited her to the party today.”

Luke’s eyes widen as he considers this. He feels like an idiot for not figuring out a scheme to get his own crush invited to the party, let alone have Ryan think of one.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” Luke says, turning back towards the house.

“The hell you are,” Eddie says, catching his son’s shoulder and pulling him back. “No more teenagers at this party.”

The party continues through the afternoon. Cake is had, presents are opened, and Eddie is grateful that only two children have cried so far. He’s even more grateful that neither of them was his children. 

When the afternoon starts to turn into evening and the early October air becomes chilly, the remaining party guests are ushered into the house. On the way inside, Eliza trips over the threshold. Owen, right behind her, manages to catch her before she hits the carpeted floor. 

“You okay?” he asks her, concern pinching his brow.

Eliza is at a loss for words for perhaps the first time in her life. She stares up at Owen, with the most literal of heart eyes Eddie has ever seen, and nods at him. Owen sets her back on her feet and Eliza keeps walking forward as if she’s in a daze. 

“Dude,” Steve says with a snort of laughter. The irritation on Eddie’s face amuses his best friend. “She’s literally a little kid. It’s just a crush.”

Eddie huffs and shakes off the hand Steve clapped on his back. 

Soon, everyone but Wayne and the Harringtons have left. Eliza was loathe to let Owen leave, but she didn’t exactly have much say in the matter. Besides, she’s thoroughly exhausted after her party. 

“Why don’t you go get your pajamas on?” you suggest, gently pressing a kiss into your daughter’s curls. 

With a reluctant nod, Eliza opens her mouth in a wide yawn and heads towards the stairs. Luke plops down on the couch, his annoyance all but vanished now that he didn’t have to suffer through his little sister’s pining. 

“You know what I realized, Dad?” Luke says, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. One look at him and you know the Luke you know and love is back.

“What?” Eddie asks as he helps Amelia Harrington put her coat on.

“Eliza and Owen are one year closer in age than you and Ma are.”

Both you and Eddie freeze at his words. You, trying not to laugh as you let your eyes slide over to your husband. Eddie just stares at the ground in front of him, eerily silent. 

Ryan lets out a burst of laughter and practically falls off the couch, onto the carpet. 

You’re partially afraid your husband is imploding. Finally, he raises his eyes to Luke. 

“Why do you hate me?”

Luke lets out a cackling laugh that’s cut off by a sharp exhale of breath when Amelia launches herself on top of him and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Bye, Luke!” she gushes, hugging him tightly.

“Bye, Mia,” Luke says once he has a chance to catch his breath. 

Luke pats her a few times on the back. As he does, Steve walks into the room, his own coat buttoned up now that the family is preparing to leave. The Harrington patriarch comes to a stop next to Eddie and lets out a soft sigh at the sight of his youngest child clinging to the teenage Munson. 

“Dude,” Eddie says with a smug smirk, clapping his friend on the back. “She’s literally a little kid. It’s just a crush.”