“Button, you know I’ve come to love even your oddest of quirks, and I am a fairly open minded man, but how could a man possibly find himself with child?” Beau leveled the doe with a look that bellied his utter exasperation after she busted down his door at 3 in the morning.

Wen bit her cheek, how the fuck do you explain mpreg to a man who can barely work a touch screen cash register.

“Okay okay so- have you ever seen the 1994 film Junior- or uh uh Xenomorph??” Wen tries some general outreach, she’s met with Beau’s unchanged expression.

“Is it like Frankenstein’s monster? I’m quite familiar with that!” Beau collected Wen’s empty hot chocolate mug, setting about fixing her another one.

“Mmmm okay so you’re well and truly an mpreg Virgin! Totally and completely uninitiated!” Her palms slammed flat against the counter of Beau’s overhang.

“I suppose...that’s one way of putting it, I’ll say, you’re a sweet lady, but by Satan you’re trying to put the sailors to shame hm?” A refilled mug, topped with whipped cream, mini marshmallows, and shaved peppermint greeted Wen.

Her tail flickered like a motorboat engine, eagerly accepting her second sweet treat of the night. One of the perks of crashing into Beau’s apartment at ungodly hours, free snacks.

“Dank youu-“ She manages to thank him through sips, burning her tongue repeatedly as she attempts to drink. “Pfth- ha- ow ah- pthhhh ow- pth- ow.”

Beau covers his mouth to avoid snickering, not wanting her to think he’s enjoying her suffering. (It is kind of funny, give it five minutes to cool down, it’s not growing legs and walking away!)

“Now about this...Mpreg- I suppose some men can get pregnant since they retain certain organs, however outside that circumstance I’m not seeing how pregnant men are a thing.”

“It’s a genre Antman!! As in like a literary thing. It started well the like Uhm modern version kinda started in the 80’s! But the really fun stuff came about when I was living- because- fuck I can’t really explain mpreg without also explaining the omega verse...” Wen contemplated how to explain the omega verse to a man that gets scared when other men flirt with him because he thinks it’s a trap...

“Ah, I know what omega verse is.” Beau raised a finger, leaning forward against the counter. “That’s the one where it’s based on that outdated theory about wolf pack social hierarchy! Mutton made me take this little quiz to tell me if I was an Alpha, beta, or omega. I’ve dabbled a little bit into the genre, it’s quite odd, but it’s also quite interesting depending on how the author takes it!”

....Beau knows what omega verse is. Which raises the thought that MUTTON knows what omegaverse, which seems so cursed to Wen. The sweet southern ram sinner reminds her a lot of those nice librarians who would let you check out an extra book.

“And uh which one did you get Antman?”

“I got omega, but I feel as though I would more so be a beta if we were going to ponder the little details.”

Wen nearly spits out her hot chocolate. Fuck, keep a serious face, don’t laugh at Beau not understanding those implications.

She doesn’t know what’s better, the fact Beau just accepts it in comparison to when Alastor stabbed her phone with a tentacle after she enlightened him to the world of Alastor/Vox omegaverse on archive of our omen or that he got omega on a shitty hellfeed quiz and just mildly disagrees with his results.

“Oh my Satan, you’re fuckin’ killing me antman, I’m dying, as we speak.” Wen wheezes, putting her head down.

“Oh, please don’t die.” Beau frowns, poking her ears with a clawed finger. “I would be very sad if you passed away dear.”

Wen bristles a little bit, feeling a little too gooey to have good relationships with people this morning. She bats at his hand. “Watch the ears mister, those are my cutest asset!”

“I would argue your personality is your most redeeming asset, but please continue, you’ve yet to enlighten me as to how this male procreation is possible.”

:two hours later (its 5 am, spirit is so sleepy)

“They...through the...what the fuck is wrong with your generation.” Wen nearly sip out the remainder of her drink.

Beau candidly cussing is always a treat, and she’s out done herself. He looks even worse than Mr. A did when she explained what ass baby stories were. The arachnid sinner opens his mouth, closes, opens, and then once again closes it.

“Snrk- your- pfttt your face- oh my jeeez- pffff haaa.” Wen buried her face in her hands, tail flickering with utter delight.

Amber glanced at the woman again. She knew she was staring but it was hard not to. She was taller than most humans would be. Even now, hunched over with her hands in her pockets she still towered over Amber. She wanted to look at her eyes and see what color they were, but she knew some demons could hold control over humans that way. Instead she tried to focus on the building across the street. She glanced at her watch. We should have heard something by now. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but once again her attention was drawn to her companion. She had shifted so that she leaned against the side of the alley. It was fascinating to watch her move. The woman’s body reminded her of a deer. Her arms and legs were long and lean, her movements were graceful. Even her short brown hair seemed to be the color of a doe. I wonder who she is.

“What is it?” she asked gruffly.

“Sorry, I just...I don’t know what to call you.” Amber hesitated. “I know you won’t give your uh...given name.” She had barely remembered to omit the word ‘demon.’

“Fawn I guess.” She muttered. 

“Thanks.” Amber fidgeted. She wanted to ask so many more questions, but the knowledge that Fawn could eviscerate her for being annoying made her stay silent.