#parent au

people said it every time you showed up anywhere together: “oh my god, that’s megan in mini form.” it happened at grocery stores, on sidewalks, at the dentist, and this morning, right there on the kindergarten steps where all the parents gathered with travel mugs and sleepy smiles for the class field trip.

your daughter—bug (pls i’m bad at naming)—had both pigtails crooked on purpose because “it’s funnier that way,” a hoodie with jellyfish on it, and megan’s exact whisker dimples stamped into her cheek like proof of purchase. she had megan’s mischievous eyebrows too, permanently tilted like they were mid-prank. when she grinned, you saw the same mouth as your wife, and when she ran, she ran like megan: full send, zero braking.

“you’re sure we don’t have to sign an extra form for... you know,” you had whispered to megan, nodding at your daughter as she hopped from one paving stone to the next, narrating her life like a podcast no one asked for.

“for what?” megan asked, clicking the cap back on a strawberry yogurt tube and tucking it into the tiny cooler you insisted on bringing because nerd preparedness was your whole brand. you had your glasses pushed up, a folded aquarium map in your back pocket, and an entire tote dedicated to snacks, wipes, bandaids, and a laminated list of “top ten questions children ask about stingrays.”

“for property damage,” you said. “or emotional damage. or... general gremlin activity.”

megan laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as the teacher, ms. hana, clapped to get everyone's attention.

“that’s my girl. i’m so proud.”

bug barreled back to you, skidding on her sneakers. “mommy. mama. this is my girlfriend elia.” she tugged a shy, curly-haired girl out from behind a taller parent. “elia likes apple slices and biting crayons, and we‘re getting married, but not today because field trip.”

“girlfriend?” you repeated.

elia waved, and you crouched to her height. “nice to meet you, elia. i’ll keep the apple slices coming.”

“tell ‘em your favorite color,” bug told her solemnly.

“rainbow,” elia said gravely, then tucked her hand into bug’s like they'd been doing it for fifty years.

the parents around you melted. megan straight-up clutched her heart. “my baby has taste,” she whispered. “she picked the sparkliest partner in the class.”

ms. hana handed out name tags. bug peeled hers off the sheet and stuck it to your forehead instead. “you‘re mine,” she announced.

“you‘re both mine.” megan said, sliding behind you to press a kiss to your temple, then another just to be excessive because megan skiendiel was too lovey-dovey by default.

“noooo,” bug squeaked happily, trying to wedge her small self between you. “mine.”

“everyone buckle up for the bus,” ms. hana called, and the herd began to move.

the bus smelled like crayons and hope. other parents chatted in the aisle; someone passed a box of mini pastries; a dad in a baseball cap asked if stingrays were just flat sharks and you had to physically restrain yourself from opening your tote, finding your laminated facts, and doing a powerpoint with hand gestures.

but then bug crawled into your lap and all your nerd impulses softened. she patted your cheeks. “mama, your glasses are so shiny today.”

“that’s because mama used the nerd cloth,” megan said from the seat across, completely sprawled, one arm slung over the back, smiling so hard her eyes curved into crescents. “did you bring your nerd cloth, baby?”

“i brought three,” you said, because of course you did.

bug peered at your tote like it contained the mysteries of life. “snacks?”

“authenticated snacks,” you confirmed, producing a small container labeled “fruit-non-sticky” and a second labeled “emergency gummy bears-post meltdown only.” megan kissed your knuckles like you‘d just presented the crown jewels.

“remind me to marry you again,” she said.

“you already did,” you said, cheeks heating. megan never hid affection, not even in a bus full of parents; she wore it like a jacket. she always had a hand on you—your wrist, your waist, the back of your neck—like she needed to make sure you were really there.

bug, meanwhile, stuck an apple slice in her mouth like a walrus tusk and side-eyed elia across the aisle. “girlfriend,” she said, muffled. “do walruses live at the aquarium?”

“if they do, mama will know,” megan told them. “mama knows everything.”

you swore you were unaffected, but you smiled so big your glasses slid. “i know some things,” you said modestly, kissing bug’s hairline as she wiggled. “for instance, i know your mommy pretends she’s cool but she cries at penguin shows.”

“i do not,” megan said, already dabbing under one eye. “shut up.”

“mommy bites mama all the time,” bug announced suddenly to no one and everyone.

the entire row went silent, then burst into muffled laughter like a wave. you choked on your own spit. megan pressed her forehead to the seat and wheezed. “out of context, that sounds—”

“—like your mom needs to stop chewing on me in public,” you cut in, fanning yourself. “bug, tell the court what you mean.”

bug rolled her eyes, megan-coded. “like this,” she said, leaning forward and chomping your shoulder with the gentlest baby goat nibble. “mommy does bite-bites when she loves you. it’s like kitty kisses.” she turned to the world at large. “do not worry. mama is fine.”

the dad in the baseball cap gave you a thumbs-up like, good for you, and you hid behind your laminated stingray sheet until the bus pulled up to the aquarium.

inside, it felt like you had walked into the ocean without the inconvenience of drowning. everything glowed blue. children squealed. the giant tunnel arched ahead like the inside of a whale’s smile.

bug vibrated. “i have so many questions,” she declared, already sprint-walking, jellyfish backpack bobbing. elia galloped beside her. megan caught your hand.

“you‘re doing your thinking face,” she said softly, squeezing.

“just calculating how to keep our child from adopting a moray eel,” you said. “or starting a coup among the clownfish.”

“i’ll distract her,” megan said. “you do your nerd thing. we‘ve got this.”

you believed her.

first stop: the coral reef wall. tilting, darting fish like living confetti. bug went nose-to-glass immediately, exhaling fog onto it before wiping a heart shape with her sleeve. “hello, fishie family,” she said pleasantly. “do you have taxes?”

“not that kind,” you said, because your brain was broken in a specific way where you answered everything. “but they do have jobs. like cleaning stations where wrasses—”

bug gasped. “wrassles?!”

“wrasses,” you repeated, laughing. “little cleaner fish. they help keep the big fish healthy.”

megan crouched beside bug, chin on her shoulder. “see, bug? everyone takes care of everyone.”

bug nodded solemnly, then smushed her cheek to the glass. “i volunteer to be me and elia’s cleaning fish. i'm very helpful.”

elia agreed, because of course she did.

you drifted behind them, reading placards, connecting dots, explaining quietly when bug asked, and kissing megan‘s hair when you passed close enough.

“mama,” bug said at the next tank, pointing at a vaguely grumpy, magnificently plump giant grouper. “that fish has grandpa’s... tummy.”

you choked, then snorted so hard your shoulders shook. “oh my god.”

megan put a hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling. “don’t you dare send that to the family group chat.”

you were already texting a photo to the family group chat.

“he looks cuddly,” bug added thoughtfully. “like a couch fish. hi couch fish.”

the couch fish did not respond, which, fair.

the stingray touch pool was where your blood pressure did a swan dive. bug approached the edge like a scientist, elbows high, fingers wiggling.

“gentle,” you reminded.

“two fingers,” megan added, demonstrating in the air.

bug nodded gravely, then reached down and squealed when a ray slipped past her hand like living velvet. “SLIPPERY,” she announced to twelve strangers. “HELLO MR. FLAPPY PANCAKE.”

“excellent observation,” you said, handing her a towel. her sleeve was soaked; your heart was a hummingbird; megan kissed your jaw because she knew the exact frequency of your worry and loved you right through it.

you caught a few other parents watching the three of you with fond smiles.

one mom leaned over as bug rushed away. “she really is your wife in miniature," she said to you.

“i know right,” megan replied, pride warming her voice until it was practically steam. “she’s my little carbon copy.”

“i thought i was the carbon,” you whispered.

megan kissed the corner of your mouth. “you’re my everything copy.”

“we’re in public,” you hissed, smiling so hard your face hurt.

“mm. public sees what love looks like then.”

bug returned at a sprint. “mommy,” she said, tugging megan’s sleeve, “come see the marshmallow jellies.”

the jellyfish room felt like the inside of a lullaby. blue light. slow motion. little parachutes rising and falling. bug pressed both hands to the glass and went quiet for the first time all day.

“jelly bellies,” she whispered, reverent.

“jelly bellies,” megan whispered back, just as reverent, and you squeezed her hand because you’d never loved two people more than you did in moments like that.

“can i squish one?”

“no, my love,” you said, crouching. “we only squish stuffed animals and your mommy’s cheeks.”

bug immediately squished megan’s cheeks with sticky little palms. megan accepted it as her fate.

“eyeballs only,” you added gently. “we look, we appreciate, we respect.”

“eyeballs only,” bug echoed, calming all at once like someone had turned the dial down. she leaned her forehead against the glass, and her reflection—the tiny megan face—blinked back at her.

megan watched you watching them, eyes gone soft. she covered your hand on the railing and laced your fingers together. “if a photographer tries to sell us a print for fifty bucks, we’re buying it.”

“obviously,” you said.

spoiler: a photographer did try, and you ended up with a glossy photo of the three of you under the tunnel arch—bug mid-gasp, you wide-eyed and laughing. megan was on the photo, by the way, in the most megan way: both arms around you, head tilted like she had invented affection. you planned to frame it the second you got home.

of course, peace had a timer. it went off right as you turned to answer another parent’s question about seahorses and megan leaned in to whisper something scandalous about how you looked with your glasses slipping and then—silence. empty space where a child had been.

“megan,” you said, already scanning. “where is she.”

megan’s grin fell right off her face. “bug?”

no bug.

you moved. you were a searchlight. megan was a siren. “i’ll take left,” she said, sharp and focused now in the way she always got when it mattered. “you take the tunnel. i’ll tell staff.”

you nodded, heart in your throat. you walked fast, eyes snagging on every small backpack, every set of pigtails. you had almost reached the end of the tunnel when the overhead speaker crackled.

“attention,” said a cheerful voice, “would the parents of a very charming child answering to the name ‘bug’ please come to the photo kiosk? she has made friends with three dolphins on a keychain and is currently giving us a TED talk.”

you exhaled color back into the world.

you and megan found her standing on a stool at the counter, hands parted like she was presenting a thesis. when she saw you, she didn’t even look guilty—just delighted. “mommy! mama! i did exploration.”

“exploration is good,” you said, kneeling so your eyes were level with hers. you wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap except she’d chew through it. “but you have to take us with you when you explore, okay? we were scared.”

bug blinked at you, then at megan, and her little mouth quivered. “oh.” she folded in with a soft whimper, arms out. “sorry. i forgot to bring you.”

megan scooped her up in one move and kissed every square inch of her face: cheeks, nose, forehead, the spot between her brows. “thank you for remembering now,” she murmured. “next time, we explore together.”

bug nodded into her neck. “together.”

the woman at the kiosk leaned over. “she told us stingrays are pancakes and some fish do cleaning like dentists. she also said her mommy bites her mama ‘like a tiny dinosaur when she loves hard.’”

“okay,” you said, ears burning. “field trip over. we‘re moving to a cave.”

megan laughed, eyes wet, mouth beautiful. she hugged you again in the middle of the gift shop because she could. bug peeked between you and cupped your cheeks with all the seriousness in the world.

“no more losts,” she said.

“no more losts,” you repeated, nodding.

you tried to leave without buying anything. you did. you failed within twelve seconds.

bug spotted a stuffed manta ray the size of her torso and declared its name was marshmallow wings. elia chose a glittery dolphin the color of mermaid scales. you added a pressed penny to the pile because your tote had a pocket just for those, obviously. megan bought a keychain of a grouper and elbowed you when you laughed.

“grandpa’s tummy, god i miss my father-in-law,” she whispered, wicked.

“i already texted him,” you whispered back.

on the way out, you passed the penguin feeding and yes, megan cried. “shut up,” she said, wiping furiously. “they’re in tuxedos.”

“it’s not a contest,” you told her, patting her back. “but if it were, you would win crying.”

bug clapped. “mommy wins.”

“see?” megan sniffed. “my biggest fan.”

back at school, the parents regrouped on the steps. kids compared treasures. elia pressed a solemn kiss to bug’s cheek. “bye, girlfriend.”

bug swooned, then recovered instantly. “mommy, can elia live in our house forever?”

“i’ll discuss a lease,” megan said. “terms and conditions apply. must love apple slices.”

“today was chaotic,” you muttered suddenly. “but it was good... great.”

“i loved it,” megan said like a vow, like she said most things to you. “ten out of ten, would parent with you again.”

bug put both palms on your cheeks. “i loved it too. jelly bellies were twinkly. couch fish was round. mommy cried. mama did facts. i'm very tired.”

“same,” you smiled.

“god i love this, i love you guys,” megan chuckled, leaning in to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your mouth in the softest, silliest peck.

bug flopped dramatically. “no more kissies.”

“one more,” megan bargained, kissing your cheek. “for the road.”

“fine,” bug said magnanimously. “you may kiss the bride, i mean mama or whatever.”

“Yeah,” cheek laying atop the door, you inhale deeply as the morning sun drenches him in sunlight. “It’s just that… should we have asked for the gender? I mean yesterday at the doctor’s?”

Robert smacks his lips together before crossing the small distance over to you. “I don’t know, should we have?”

“It’s eight in the morning and my head is filled with raging hormones, don’t test me, Robert.”

Chuckling, his foot nudges the door away to look at you in all your glory. You’re in an old oversized shirt that reaches just above your knee. It’s so old that you don’t even remember where you got it in the first place with its print fading, and with the hem starting to lose some threads. But what has his smile softening is your growing belly under it, usually it’s the ones above it, but now, he can’t help it when his eyes dart to your stomach with fondness.

“Last time I tested you, we ended up with this.” He pokes your stomach gently, smiling and meeting with your eyes that smiles back at him, crinkling in the corners. “What is it? Are you already bored from maternity leave?”

“As much as I like taking nightmares from people’s dreams and sic it out on villains in the real world, I actually like staying at home with Beef.”

“Then what is it?” Robert instinctively reaches for your waist, bringing you closer against him, mindful of the coffee in his other hand. “C’mon tell me before the Z-team calls a search party for me.”

Your forehead thumps against his shoulder, a sound that Beef notices before he trots over to you, jumping on your leg as if he’s checking up on you. “I don’t know, just worried, I guess.” Leaning reluctantly away for Robert to grab Beef in his arms, the little fluff ball licks your arm on his way up, and you pet his fluffy head with a soft smile.

“I can stay home for today if you want.” He understands you completely even without you uttering another word. He’s a superhero too, and his dad, and his dad’s dad, they all had one thing in common, worried for their secret identities to be discovered, and for their partners and child to be in danger because of it. That fear doubles for you and Robert, with you being a hero just like him. “I’ll make Visi’s shitty nachos that you love for some reason.”

That gets a chuckle from you. “That sounds great,” he hears the ‘but’ coming from a mile away. “But they need you. And it’s just my hormones getting to me, I’m sure. I’m dreading the day when the weird cravings start for me.”

“I’ll get your pickles and spray cheese combo whenever you want.” His hand squeezes your side lovingly, coming closer, toe to toe as he pecks your cheek. “And if you really want, we can go to the doctor again to ask for Little Beef’s gender like you wanted before.”

“We are not naming him Little Beef.” Hands cupping his face, Robert kisses your palm as Beef lounges on his arm with his tongue lolling out, smiling up at the two of you.

“It’s just a place holder.” He says, sighing longingly even though you’re right in front of him in kiss range. “You’ll be the one pushing the baby out, you can name him whatever you want.”

“Funny that we both settled on a boy by default.” Grinning, your fingers play with the shell of his ear.

“I think it’s physically impossible for us Robertsons to have a daughter.” Joking, just the thought of having a mini version of you running around has him beaming at you. “Boy or girl, I’ll still love them.”

Tears form, eyes heating up as your vision swirls with watercolored lights as you gaze at him. “Really? Even if our baby can’t carry the mechaman legacy?”

So that’s what you’re worried about. His touch softens, eyes turning tender as he pulls you for an embrace, coffee forgotten, placed on the nearby table with one of his house warming lamps. He has found that a side effect of loving you is forgetting about his beloved caffeine. And he doesn’t mind it one bit, he’ll stop drinking coffee if it means having you in his arms forever.

Beef reads the room and jumps off of his arm, heading to the couch to leave you two be, something that the Z-team should take notes of.

“She could be a mechawoman, or maybe be called something else entirely. Technically I make the rules so...” he lets out a grunt as you hug him tighter, your fingers weave through his hair as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “And that’s if they want to be a hero too. Whatever we get, sweetheart, they’re free to choose whatever they want to be.”

“Because we love them anyway.” Pulling away reluctantly, cheeks streaky with tears, you kiss his jaw, earning a satisfied hum from him.

“Damn right.” With a proper kiss, lips meeting yours, Robert ignores the ringing phone for a second to show his love for you. If the clock on the wall was any indication, the ringing phone was evidence that he’s absolutely late for work.

“Also,” you say even with his lips still on yours, fingers playing with his ear again. Robert leans away reluctantly, eyes glancing at your lips before looking into your eyes. “I think it’s time to tell the others, what do you think?”

“Really?” His face brightens up even more. The thought of his second family knowing about his baby makes him beam at your decision. “You sure? I thought you wanted to pull a prank on them with me suddenly bringing our baby to work, and gaslight them by saying that I’ve always had a baby.” The ringing stops, and he thanks that it did or else he would’ve thrown another phone out of the balcony.

Our baby wakes the butterflies in your stomach, it’s either that or Little Beef wants to have breakfast.

“Yeah, I had a change of heart, that was a bit mean of me to think of. It might give Chase a heart attack.”

He lets out a scoff, more akin to a chuckle. “Knowing the team, they’d probably think that the baby is a new team member and bring him to a call.”

“Oh dear god, I hope not.”

Chuckling, Robert leans closer to your lips hungry for some more. “You don’t want to announce it with me? I can wait for you to get ready.” His hands wander around your form, squeezing and roaming all over.

“I feel like a water balloon right now, besides you’re already late.” His pouted lips pauses mid lean as you continue. “And I really fucking wish that Malevola was here to watch the devil wears Prada with me. But I know she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself the moment someone mentions me. So it’s best that the news comes from either of us, might as well tell them now before I die of boredom here.”

“You want to tell everyone that we’re having a kid because you want your best friend to watch a movie you’ve watched a thousand times before with her?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” he pecks your cheek, and you hum in content. “You sure you don’t want to tell everyone with me?”

“I don’t feel beautiful right now, Robbie.”

“As someone with eyes, that’s not true, sweetheart.”

“Charmer.” Grinning, hands on his chest, laying flat and feeling his muscles underneath his uniform, you lean closer, nose to nose as you breathe in the coffee lingering on his lips. Before you kiss him again, you get another thought. “Should I have taken the desk job instead?”

“Absolutely not, it’ll stress you out and our baby would come out all wrinkly with headphones on while yelling at Flambae.”

Giggling, you pat his chest lovingly as he matches your smile. “Okay, I’m done worrying, until I think of a new one anyway, so kiss me, Robert, before I do.” And he kisses you wholeheartedly, lips smiling against yours.

—

Robert gets to the SDN building normally, nothing too unusual, just passing by several heroes doing their thing, writing paper works, drinking coffee, gossiping near the watercooler, and the weird cat mascot that seems to see through his very soul. Still, nothing out of the ordinary, if the ordinary is Waterboy coughing out into a water bucket to mop the floors even when that’s not his job anymore. Robert is starting to think that he likes doing that.

“Where the fuck is Beef?” Chase greets him as he leans against the wall of his cubicle. “And you’re late by the way.”

“Good morning to you too, Chase.” He replies monotonously, dropping his bag down on the floor with a thump.

“Morning, fuckface, now where’s the little guy, I bought him a new toy that looks like your suit.”

“At home with my girl.” He simply says, plopping down on his chair as he boots up his computer.

“Oh, fuck off.” Chase rolls his eyes, flicking Robert’s ear as the man side eyes him. “She’s hogging Beef.”

“I just don’t like leaving her all alone. And Beef seems to be happy enough with her.”

“Fuck me, how long is her flu? Is she dying? Tell me she isn’t dying because she owes me ten bucks.”

“She’s not dying, Chase.” With a sigh, his hand reaches for the film in his pocket, feeling it for a moment before bringing it out. “And it’s not the flu.”

“Oh shit, did she get a dream flu or some shit?”

“A dream flu?” Robert pauses mid movement. “No, what even is that? And why does she owe you ten bucks?”

“A dream flu ‘cause she goes around people’s dreams and maybe she got some dream sickness in some asshole’s fuckass dream. That’s her whole schtick right?” Chase gestures wildly, mustache wrinkling atop his lip. “And the ten bucks was back when she was craving some greasy deli sandwich a few months ago.”

“No, that’s not her thing— never mind.” Sighing with a subtle smile, he places the grainy photo beside a picture frame of you with Beef cuddled in your arms. “It’s because of this.”

“Oh.” Chase’s usual demeanor fades, eyes widening as he takes a good look at the ultrasound picture. “Shit.” He’s shellshocked by the looks of things, as Robert stares at him with a smirk.

“Finally got you speechless.”

“Is that a picture of Golem?” Invisigal suddenly appears out of thin air, something that Robert was already anticipating but was still surprised nonetheless.

“No, that’s a picture of my baby.” He replies monotonously, gauging out her reaction, as she mirrors Chase, albeit more unsteady.

“It looks like one of those ink blobs that my psychiatrist has.” Flambae peeks over the cubicle, eyeing the picture before going around the table to get a better look.

“You go to therapy?” Arms crossed over her chest, Visi asks with a raised brow and a snort.

“Bitch, you should be in therapy too.” He jabs with his signature irked tone.

“Wait, hold on, you actually got Dreamcatcher pregnant?” The older man wakes up from his stupor, blinking as he takes the ultrasound picture gingerly as if he’s handling precious cargo. His eyes skim the photo, gaze darting from the picture to Robert’s face.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t last a month together, she’s way out of your league, Robert.” Malevola overheard all the commotion from the office pantry and saw the growing crowd around Robert’s cubicle. She sidles beside Chase, immediately beaming at the ultrasound picture. Despite the grainy black and white photograph, her eyes water at the sight. “Fuck, good for the both of you, Robert.” She says, clearing her throat.

“Why is this such a surprise?” Robert sighs as Chase raises a questioning brow. “And we’ve been together for three years, Mal.” Robert doesn’t mention her teary reaction in front of everyone, instead, he nods at her with a subtle smile.

“Shit, has it really been that long?” Sniffing, she not-so-subtly wipes her eyes.

“Well, congratulations, Robert, you actually know how to use your dick.” Chase places the picture back gently before clasping Robert’s shoulder with a thump.

“Thank you?” Robert’s gaze wanders around the people around him, people whom he has grown to care for. He wishes you were here with him to witness this, but he knows that you’re not having the greatest time with your morning sickness even though you try to play it off in front of him. Maybe he’ll get you something to help ease the queasiness on his way home.

“Yeah, good on you, dickwad.” Sonar appears from the side, arms thrown over a sniffling Malevola. “What’s happening by the way?”

“Robert is having a baby.” She answers, trying her best not to let out a single tear.

“Nice! What color? And how is that possible?”

“Jesus, that’s fucked up.” Robert grimaces. “And it’s possible because I had sex with my girlfriend whom I love very much.”

“Double nice!” Sonar gestures for a high five, which Robert hesitates for a moment before high fiving the man-bat. “You finally got some!”

“I know right?” Flambae snickers from the side.

“I need to gift her a fruit basket or something!” Malevola fans her face, taking the ultrasound picture with a wobbly smile. “Wait,” her face falls. “why didn’t she say anything to me? I’m her best friend!”

“She wanted to wait.”

“Just say that she wanted to pull a dick move on us by suddenly showing up with a baby.” Chase adds, looking at Robert over the rim of his coffee cup. “I know her, Robert.”

“That’s fucked up.” Flambae’s face lights up, the corner of his lips curling up with a smirk. “Just my type, is she single?”

“No,” he scoffs. “she’s literally having my baby.” Twisting around in his chair, Robert scrunches his nose at him, whilst shaking his head.

“But that doesn’t mean she wants to stay with you.”

“Why can’t you all be normal and just congratulate us?”

“I’ll believe it when I see the actual baby, or with her strutting in here with a watermelon in her belly.” Leaning against the cubicle wall, Visi glances around everyone, looking for someone to get on her teasing remark. Sonar takes the bait and nods along.

“Isn’t the ultrasound picture enough for you guys?”

“Nope, for all we know you got that off the internet.”

“Guys, guys, can’t you see that he’s got Robert’s nose!” With a roaring laughter, Flambae takes the picture from Malevola and points at it. The rest chuckles, except for Robert, who snatches the picture back from his grasp and straightens the creases gently.

“What if it’s a girl?” Malevola utters. “Man, I really want to be a girl aunt. Robert, don’t ruin my dreams of buying pretty dresses for my niece.”

“I literally don’t have control over that, Mal.” Placing the photo back where it belongs, Robert sighs. He really wishes that you were here right now to help wrangle the Z-team.

Chase then narrows his eyes at the picture. “I think it’s a boy.”

“You can tell that from an ink blob?” Sonar sounds like he’s convinced though.

“Yep, definitely a boy, I can see his peepee.” Based on Flambae’s grin, he intends to add more fuel to his teasing flames.

“Oh I think I see it too—”

“Would you stop looking at my unborn baby’s—”

“Whose baby?” Blond Blazer saunters towards the group, heels clicking against the linoleum.

“Mine,” Robert says with his whole chest, not wavering for a second. “We’re having a baby.” His tone is tender and affectionate, and the air around the group turns softer just from his demeanor alone. They all mirror each other’s smile— gentle and genuinely happy for their dispatcher.

“Congratulations!” Blazer grins and opens her arms for a hug, which Robert returns briefly. “Finally told them, huh?” Robert raises a questioning brow at her. “She filed for maternity leave, and I connected the dots. How far along is she?” She holds him at arm’s length, eyes smiling.

“Three months, almost four now. We wanted to be sure,” Swallowing thickly, Robert inhales deeply as he utters the next words forlornly. But his tone is much more steady, eyes swirling with emotions. “They’re both doing great.”

“Thank you for telling us, Robert.” She clasps his shoulder, mirroring his eyes. “All the years I’ve known you both, I know you’ll do a great job.”

“Thanks.” Despite his flat tone, Robert lets out a staggered sigh, as if he was waiting to hear those words coming from someone else other than from himself and you.

“I can already tell that he’ll be the most protected kid in the whole goddamn city.” Chase agrees, nodding at him with a proud smile.

“Thanks, Chase.” Surprisingly, Chase hugs him too, but before he could hug back, he’s already pulling away, patting his bicep with a well timed sniff.

“Yeah, congratulations or whatever.” Reaching for Robert with a fist bump, Flambae hides his smile better than the rest of the group as Robert bumps his knuckles against his.

“I’m really happy for you both. Really.” Visi nudges his arm with her own, beaming at him with shining eyes.

“Thanks, all of you.” Robert’s heart is full, and he can’t wait to go home just to tell you how everyone reacted.

“I call dibs on organizing the baby shower! Prism will love this!” Mal takes out her phone and starts typing. “I can tell the others right?”

“Go wild.” With Robert’s blessing, Malevola chuckles and leaves, followed by everyone else, leaving Robert and Chase alone.

“I hope he doesn’t name him Robert Robertson the fourth.” Invisigal whispers to Sonar but loud enough for Robert to hear as they both leave.

Once out of ear shot, Chase punches Robert’s shoulder gently. “I’m happy for you, kid. Try not to mess it up, hm?”

“I’ll try, Chase.”

“That’s better than not trying, kid.”

—

“I’m home.” Robert juggles the basket filled with vending machine food that the Z-team gathered at the last minute for you. Their excuse was that you must’ve been missing the food in the office pantry, and it’s definitely not because payday is still a week away. At least they were nice enough to leave a note that promises to give you proper presents for the baby shower. His other hand holds onto a beautiful bouquet of tulips, courtesy of Blond Blazer and Chase, whilst the ring of keys jingle around his fingers.

“Royd said that he’ll give me the security footage of their reactions to show you— sweetheart?” When you don’t immediately greet him with a hug and a peck to his lips, his senses are immediately on high alert.

The sound of the T.V. playing a random cooking show echoes around the house together with Beef’s snoring. Placing the basket in the kitchen together with the flowers, he crosses the small distance quietly. Going around the couch, he sees you fast asleep, all cuddled up beside Beef. Your hand rests atop your belly protectively as you seem to have found one of Robert’s old shirts that he used to wear whenever he fixes the suit. It has holes on the fabric, and remnants of oil and soot, and yet, you wear it not for looks but for the familiar scent that lingers on it.

Your chest rises up and down whilst Robert gently takes the blanket further up to cover both you and Beef, who kicks in his sleep. Once properly tucked in, he kneels down in front of you, a hand gently brushing away a strand of hair sticking to your cheek.

You snort in your sleep, making Robert chuckle to himself as you fall deeply in dreamland. Your eyes don’t dart around under your eyelids, a good indication that you’re truly fast asleep and not jumping from dream to dream to capture nightmares. He prefers you like this, as someone who still works when asleep. Just unabashedly resting without caring about anything else, getting some much needed rest just like you promised to him before he left for work.

Robert has a soft smile on his face, an ever prominent smile he has whenever his gaze lands on you. He knows that his attention will be divided when the baby comes, but he also knows that the same smile will stay, doubled even. As he reaches to touch your stomach, his warm palm laying atop the back of your hand, his whole chest lights up with warmth, not from stress or the overbearing anxiety, but from something more tender, happier. He could get used to this feeling that he wishes wouldn’t fade just as easy as the years come and go.

“Dad’s home, kid.” He whispers as the sunset bathes the whole living room in pink and orange hues. His hand squeezes you out of instinct, and you stir awake, eyes fluttering open, bringing more light into the space. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

your daughter was at the age where secrets felt absolutely magical, her favourite pastime was keeping secrets, anything she could guard or hide with her tiny life became the absolute most important thing on earth; despite her being six— she had never slipped up once

“guess what?” she asked you, crayons scattered over the counter you’d given up on cleaning

“what?” 

“today my friend told me a secret.”

“oh yea? what was it?” 

“a secret is called a secret because you can’t say! i’m zipping my lips and throwing away the key.” she mimicked tossing something behind her back

you shook your head with a playful smile, “go tell mommy that i need help with dinner.” 

the little girl rushed upstairs, calling megan down. “mommyyyy! mama wants you!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, her socks sliding across the hardwood floors 

༘⋆

later that week, you hear the both of them giggling away at something— not the usual, friendly giggling— it was the type that was the mischievous kind, when gianna was up to something

your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to peek your head through the door of the small room that they were in. 

your daughter quickly shoved the empty shoebox she had underneath the couch, as if she’d been caught stealing something valuable, along with the crayons and stickers, “mama NO!” 

megan looked over at you, flashing an apologetic smile. “it’s a top secret club..”

“top secret club! and you can’t join.” the little girl's hands rested on her hips, she stood proud and tall. 

“and why can’t i join?” you asked, already questioning their antics. 

“because it’s top secret, duh!”

“and you don’t know the top secret handshake,” megan added, earning a little giggle from the girl

“and you don’t know the rules! or the special secret knocking code.”

you dramatically placed a hand over your heart, faking the feeling of betrayal. 

“how dare you girls make a top secret club.. without me.”

and though it was a joke, you still felt a bit jealous on the inside. 

you knew your daughter didn’t have favourites, but whatever this was, you hoped you could be apart of too. 

it wasn’t the end of the world, but you wanted to have that connection where gianna was comfortable telling you secrets as well. 

and you were happy for megan, of course. 

you were happy gianna felt comfortable and safe to tell megan everything, but you couldn’t help but also feel excluded. 

everyday they held  ‘top secret meetings’ that consisted of fits of laughter and whispering voices. 

and every time you would pass by, just to listen in, just to see what you were missing out on— they’d shush each other up and you wouldn’t get any information. 

“SHHHH!”

“me?” megan laughed, “you shhhh!”

“code red!”

and then silence, until you’d walked away. every. single. time. 

it almost becomes routine— meetings every saturday with the welcome in snack being cookies on a unicorn plate— that you had to provide, whispered planning sessions before bed, sudden silences when you’d enter a room. 

 you asked megan one night, whispered it without gianna hearing, but megan wouldn’t budge, she wouldn’t even utter a hint. 

“what are you guys doing?”

megan placed a finger onto your lips, “can’t say,”

sometimes you hated how loyal she was. 

your daughter would tiptoe around slyly, head peeking dramatically out of every door frame to make sure you weren’t around before walking around with the shoebox— “you better not be around.. it's CLUB BUSINESS MAMA.” was what she’d yell out before exiting every room 

it was adorable, but it was breaking your heart.

so you started asking more direct questions, knowing your wife was a terrible liar. 

but she beat you at your own game by offering you the guiltiest of smiles and the standard shrug of her shoulders

the feeling of being left out felt even worse— why didn’t gianna care to let you in on her super secret club? it was starting to hurt more than you wanted it to. 

but of course you let things slide, why rain in on their fun? 

except, you’d begun to notice things throughout the weeks that their secret club was in session— like pink glitter littered all over megan’s sleeve, marker smudges left on the floor of her room, pieces of colourful construction paper peeking out from underneath the couch.

these things were all new— maybe their club was crafty? and you weren’t invited because you didn’t draw to gianna’s standards? you had no idea

༘⋆

you groaned when you almost slipped on one of gianna’s toys— one you'd told her to pick up to avoid that exact thing from happening. 

you picked it up, walked over to their ‘secret meeting room’, and without thinking you opened the door. 

they scrambled to hide something behind their backs quickly, not expecting you to abruptly come in 

“IT'S A SURPRISE.. I MEAN NO IT'S NOT.. I MEAN.. LEAVE THE ROOM!” megan blurted out, gianna trying to make sure you hadn’t seen anything. 

you raised your brow, this was the most suspicious they’d ever been, you dropped the toy into the bin and left without saying a word. 

“she knows..” megan whispered, before gianna glared at her, “no she doesn’t mommy! she can’t read minds!”

༘⋆

you decided to spend the afternoon tidying up gianna’s room while she was at school. megan was off at rehearsals and you’d taken the day off work to honestly just have time to yourself— because even you needed some rest. 

as you folded her comforter, the shoebox tumbled out from under her bed, the contents spilling over her floor. 

you didn’t think anything of it— from where you were standing it looked like an assortment of art supplies 

you knelt down to pick up the mess, before you froze

what you see are pictures of gianna, you, and megan, all holding hands in a line— it was definitely drawn by your six year old but that’s what made it special, even the hearts where lopsided

you shuffled through tiny post-it notes, ‘we love mama becuz she makes us cookies’, ‘we love mama becuz she kises me good night’, ‘we love mama becuz she always plays with me even wen she’s tierd’ 

your throat tightened

you reached in again, seeing a small handmade keychain with the words ‘#1 mom’ on it, and the cutest, unevenly made friendship bracelet with all of your favourite colours. 

the last thing you found was a card full of pink glitter— much like the one you'd seen on megan’s sleeve— it read, ‘top secret club- surprise project: make mama smile everyday’

your chest ached; you realized the club was never meant to exclude you— it was about them showing you how loved you were, it was about celebrating you

you quickly shoved the pieces back into the box, tucking it away where you'd assumed it had been before it tumbled out. 

later that same night, gianna held the same shoebox with caution, she was visibly nervous and megan was cheering her on 

“you got this baby, go ahead.”

“mama..” she started, her voice quiet, “our secret club was about making you smile because we love you the most.. i hope you like it..”

you take a look into the box, pretending like this was your first time viewing everything inside of it— but it still felt so much more special now that you were all together

“now you’re officially invited,” megan whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek 

“but you still have to learn the handshake!”

megan let out a loud laugh, “good luck babe, it’s weirdly complicated”

you and megan smiled, you loved your little family.