Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seven Months Later:

Alex rests on his side, exhausted from the recent toils his body has undergone while I watch over him and the product of his labor. A tiny fist grasps my forefinger, little gray eyes peering up at me.

“Bah bah!”

I beam down at my son. Adrian, we’d decided. The baby coos where he nuzzles at Alex’s chest, looking for milk. Just a few hours old and already he has a strong latch. Enough to make my lover wince awake.

“Hungry little thing,” he sighs.

“It isn't too late to look for a wet nurse.”

“No,” he grumbles. “This is my choice.”

I lay down beside him, pushing stray emerald curls out of his face. They're extra springy and slightly crunchy from the sweat that has long since dried on his skin.

“We should get you a bath.”

“I don’t want to move, yet.”

“You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

“I feel fine. Just tired and sore.”

“Alex, I love you, dearly, but you stink.”

Mismatched eyes peer up at me critically. “And who are you to talk? You’ve been up with me since I went into labor. You smell just as bad as I do.”

Well, if that isn't an overexaggeration... I’m not the one covered in sweat, blood, and afterbirth.

“Then, I guess I’m running a bath for both of us then.”

“Solace said I wasn’t allowed to walk until tomorrow.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Nngh...”

I rise from the bed, leaving my husband and child to bond, while I make my way to the bathroom to run the bath water.

Forty hours, nearly two days. That’s how long it had taken for my son to make his way earth side. The entire time, I was a nervous wreck. Seeing her (Alex was female when her water broke) in so much pain and not being able to heal the cause of it. In fact knowing that any interference from me could hurt her even worse, made the whole situation worse. Seeing the two of them lying together, serene and healthy with the hardship over, it’s a bigger relief than I could ever have imagined.

Checking the temperature of the water and finding it to my satisfaction, I return to Alex’s birthing suite.

My husband is still laying on his side, but now, Samirah is in the room, Adrian in her arms as she rocks her nephew back and forth. The newborn makes little noises of contentment as he drifts off to sleep.

“Congratulations, Magnus,” Samirah greets me. “You two did good. He’s beautiful.”

“As much as I’d like to take credit, Alex is entirely the star of this show.”

“And don’t you forget it either, Maggie.”

“Never, Alskling,” I laugh, planting a kiss on his head. “Samirah, do you mind looking after Adrian for a while?”

She nods.

“I heard you running the water. Take your time. I’ll take this little one to meet the rest of his very eager family.”

Alex watches, a forlorn look on his face, as his sister walks out the door.

“It’s only for a little while.”

“I know, I know. It’s just he’s been a part of me for nine months. I feel empty not having him near.”

“Sam won’t take him far. Come on.”

Alex rolls toward me, pain evident in his every movement. Despite the baby weight clinging to his form, I still have no difficulty lifting him into my arms and carrying him to the washroom. I sit him on the edge of the bath to help him out of his labor gown, kicking myself as I do. It’s bad enough he’s been wearing this for so long, but it’s soiled with all of the wonderful bodily fluids that come with delivering a person into the world. I should’ve gotten him to bathe sooner.

Alex shifts with discomfort.

“Please, don’t look at me.”

Too late. I’ve already taken in his body. Still petite, still gorgeous but changed from pregnancy. Breasts swollen, hips widened, tummy distended from having kept our son safe in his womb for so long; I understand the dysphoria he may be feeling. In the later stages of Alex’s pregnancy, his ability to cope with the changes to his body became harder and harder on his masculine days, eventually going into confinement to avoid public eye. It was a huge contrast to her womanly days when she would wear her baby bump like a proud mark of femininity even letting Blitzen style her dresses to show off the impressively round belly. A belly that was round because of me, might I add.

“You’re gorgeous, Alex. Nothing will ever change my mind on that.”

He scoffs, sliding himself carefully into the water with a hiss.

“Too hot?”

“No, it’s perfect. I just hurt all over.”

I strip out of my own soiled clothes and slide in behind my husband.

“Let me help.”

It really has been a ride, hasn't it? I can't help but ruminate on how we got here as Magnus runs the sponge along my back and chest, dipping the cloth over my post-partum navel, and carefully cleaning the mess between my legs. I lean against his chest. Between the steamy heat of the bath and his own warm body, it would be so easy to fall asleep right here.

My eyes slide shut as the smell of grassy fields and summer florals engulf my senses.

Magnus’s memories wash over me. A little more than a year ago, we were complete strangers brought together by happenstance. After everything was resolved, my father didn’t even protest my move into the Chase manor. Not that he could have done anything anyway between Magnus’s legal standing, my pregnancy, and my abuelo putting his foot down on who exactly is the patriarch of the Fierro family. The end result, eight months of being an actual couple while my pregnancy progressed. Learning how we fit together in the light of day rather than as each others’ secret.

And there’s the other matter of my newfound magic. I’m a shape-shifter. Can you imagine? That was an interesting learning curve. There were a few days I wanted to turn into a goose and wreck havoc all across Boston, it was so frustrating. Just think about how embarrassing it is to call your lover’s name during sex only to squawk like a parrot. Granted, it makes sleuthing so much easier when you can turn into a bug or lizard or something. Once I got too far along in the family way, however, I became limited in what I could turn into. Mammals, yes, and a few select species of fish. Don’t ask how we discovered that.

Now, here we are: our son in my sister’s care as she introduces him to our little group of oddballs and oddities.

The few instances we’ve been given congratulations, Magnus diverts the attention to me, praising me for the miracle I brought into the world. He doesn’t tell them about how he spent a good two hours chasing a fox around the manor because I’d panicked after my water broke.

Adrian…I wouldn’t trade having brought him into the world for anything.

Was it hard being pregnant? Yes. The hormones, the morning sickness, the changes to my body. Loki below! For any woman, pregnancy is an ordeal not to be taken lightly. For me, well, I am a mixed bag at my best, but I don’t regret it. Maybe one day we’ll even do it again. Who knows? We’ll see how parenthood treats us.

The soft glow of Magnus’s magic cascades over me, easing the pain of labor while simultaneously putting my mind to rest.

My body won’t look like this forever. Already, the swelling is going down.

As Magnus’s hands care for me, I feel it, the subtle shift that indicates a turn in my gender. Dysphoria morphs into a different type of discomfort. They don’t teach girls in finishing school what to expect after giving birth. No one told me how big I would get or that the bones of my hips would literally widen. They certainly never taught me the process; I mean it’s obvious after the fact. The male penetrates, the seed is planted, and once it is grown enough to harvest, the fruit must be pushed out the way the seed came in. What a “pretty” process! If you don't think about the agony of expelling something the size of a small melon from your body.

Gods, I don't know how I survived it. Actually, that’s a lie.

“Alex,” he whispers into my ear.

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

I smile. I do know how I survived it.

I turn in his arms, sloshing water over the edge of the tub, and kiss him. He hums in pleasure, arms tightening around my shoulders.

“We should get out of the bath,” he says at last.

“We should,” I agree, kissing him again anyway.

“You don’t want to.”

“Nope.” I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“This coming from the girl who didn’t even want to take a bath to begin with.”

“I’m a contrary creature. What can I say?” His protests die a miserable death in the face of my whining, and he sinks further into the water. “Five more minutes. There’s no need to rush.”

His fingers stroke through my damp hair as he hums in agreement.

“We have time.”

I can’t help but agree. We have all the time in the world.