Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s buttoning up his light blue uniform shirt, trying his best not to think about how familiar the motion is, how he’s trading one uniform for another, when there’s a knock on his door. He assumes it’s just Al again, probably to annoy him about mopping the bathrooms. “Just a minute,” Diego calls out as he tucks the bottom of his shirt into dark slacks.

The knock comes back. This time it’s more frantic.

With a frustrated groan, Diego drops the shoe he was untying and yanks the door open. He really does like Al, and he’s extremely grateful for the rent-free space, but —

It’s Klaus. His omega brother is here in all of his fidgety glory, his eyes ringed in smudged black, his curls just on the side of getting too long, and the faintest amount of scruff on his chin. He grins shakily and smoothes down the old, wrinkled, too-big dress shirt he’s wearing. “Hey, Di.”

This isn’t unusual either, though it’s been months since he last saw Klaus. When he, Klaus, Allison, and Vanya all walked out on the Academy for the final time, Klaus was the least successful at adapting. Allison immediately set her sights on Hollywood, and between her personality, powers, and alphahood, she was taking it by storm from the get go. Diego’s seen her face on the TV once or twice. He may have snuck into a theater to watch her first film a few weeks ago. Vanya’s off at some music school last he heard, and Diego himself managed to strike up a deal with Al, cleaning up at the gym in return for a place to stay until he graduates from the police academy and starts to make actual money.

Or maybe Klaus was the most successful, considering his brother’s knowledge of the best dealers in the city was an unspoken secret in those last few years under their father’s thumb. Diego’s picked him up from rehab twice already since they all split — and they’re only twenty. Sometimes, between the rougher spots where the worst of his addiction takes hold, Klaus will show up here, because he knows Diego will be there for him. It’s why Diego gets the calls about him, too. Klaus will stick around for a few days, eat his food, and inevitably steal his savings on his way out.

Right now, Diego doesn’t particularly want to deal with it. He still loves Klaus, of course. He just doesn’t trust him alone in his apartment while he’s away at the academy. “Come back later, bro,” he says and closes the door.

Or tries to. Klaus is just as lithe and slippery as he always was, and he manages to get a foot in the door before it can shut. “I just need a place to stay for a while,” he wheedles. “A few days, please, Di.”

This is typically where Diego would cave. He’d open the door and huff but let Klaus move in past him, because he’s always had a soft spot for the lone omega in the family. He can’t now. He’s serious about the police academy, and he needs his savings for it. “We can talk about it later.”

Klaus’ shoulders wilt. He curls in on himself a little, which is odd, but then he puts on a big smile and shrugs it off. “Got it. Later.”

Diego makes a mental note to ask what’s going on — if Klaus shows up after he gets home, of course. There’s about a forty-sixty split between him coming back and selling himself for a place to stay instead. It hurts to think about, but Diego needs the academy. He forces himself to relax.

That’s when Klaus strikes. “Psych,” he shouts as he barrels past him, only getting through with the power of surprise.

If this was any other day, he and Diego would wrestle on the floor, Diego inevitably pinning him and Klaus whining about it before seriously agreeing to come back another time, Christ, Di, don’t be such a buzzkill.

But Diego can’t move. He stands in the doorway, lips parted, eyes trained on his brother, whose smug satisfaction is bleeding into terror.

Klaus smells pregnant.

“Klaus —”

His brother flinches, like he wasn’t prepared for Diego to speak. He runs a hand through his messy curls. “You know what? I think this might have been a bad idea.” His eyes dart over to the side, and he makes a face.

Diego brushes that off the way he and the rest did whenever Klaus quite obviously saw a ghost. He has no time to dwell on whatever’s haunting his apartment while his heartbeat is reverberating around in his head. “Just stay,” he blurts out. Seeing the clock, he winces. He’s going to be late, fuck. “Klaus, stay, and we’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

His brother nods and flashes a smile that Diego can tell is fake.

Hopefully that doesn’t mean he’ll be coming back to an empty apartment. Diego grabs his stuff, yanks on his shoes, and runs.

Klaus’ eyes are on his back until the door shuts behind him.

Somehow, Diego makes it with about thirty seconds to spare. He slides into his seat next to Eudora and ignores her less than impressed look. The two alphas met the first day of the academy, and they’ve made an odd pair of friends since. Odd, only because they don’t agree on a lot when it comes to procedure. Eudora wants to make a difference, but she understands the need for paperwork, for doing things by the book. Diego is starving to make a difference right now.

He’d have given up on the academy already if not for how stubborn he is. His friendly competition with Eudora is part of what’s keeping him there.

Predictably, she pulls him over at lunch. Surprisingly, she goes over the morning’s lesson with him.

Diego gives her a bewildered look as he lets her finish. “Not that I’m complaining, but the last time I missed part of a class, you told me to fuck off, ‘Dora.”

“Last time, you were playing superhero.” She smirks at him, amused. “That was your fault. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours today is different. I can tell.”

It’s true. He meant to listen, to take in everything their classes were about so that he could graduate and get out onto the streets where it really mattered, but he can’t today. Every ounce of his attention has been on Klaus, on that sweet, earthy scent he caught as his brother passed him, on whether or not his apartment will be empty of both the omega and his savings when he gets home. The whole situation is triggering his instincts, and he’s itching to go help Klaus. Protect him, stupidly enough. Diego knows Klaus can take care of himself even if he doesn’t like to show it.

Eudora takes the time to finish the sandwich she brought from home. One of the things he loves about her is how well she understands him, understands that if he does talk, it’ll be on his own terms.

Diego picks at the chips he got out of the vending machine and sighs. “My brother’s pregnant.”

“And?” Then she pauses, putting down her food and lowering her voice. “Wait, the addict?”

He winces. How could he forget she knew about him? So far, he’d managed to keep his past in the Umbrella Academy on the down low from most of their peers. He’s not sure exactly how, but he supposes the fact that he doesn’t go by Number Two or wear a domino mask anymore blinds some people to his last name. Eudora’s too smart for that. He’d told her a little more since that revelation. “Yeah.”

Come to think of it, though, he’s not sure Klaus was high that morning. Klaus loves his drugs for the way they make him feel, but it was no secret at the Academy that the chief reason he took anything and everything was the effect it had on his powers. Unless the drugs have stopped working in the last few months, whatever ghost Klaus saw in the apartment that morning was a sign he was sober. Is sober? God, Diego has no idea. For all he knows, Klaus could be getting high right now.

“Are you letting him stay?”

Diego blinks and nods before he really registers the question. Of course he is.

Eudora doesn’t look surprised.

His walk home is more of a run. He’s half-convinced the boiler room will be empty when he gets back, the coffee can of his savings the same. He dodges pedestrians, shouts out absent apologies, and brushes off Al when the beta gives him an odd look.

The doorknob is cold. Diego turns it, holding his breath.

Klaus looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s curled up on the ratty couch, a jar of peanut butter in hand, a spoon half in his mouth. “Hey Di,” he mumbles around the metal. His words are sticky.

Something in Diego eases. He clears his throat and closes the door behind him, dropping his bag next to it. Walking over to the mini-fridge, he notes that Klaus hasn’t relaxed. It’s… uncomfortable to have his brother so nervous around him. He chugs milk right from the carton. “So.”

Klaus puts the spoon down into the jar. “So?”

“You’re p-pregnant.” Diego clenches his jaw and then forcibly relaxes it. “You’re pregnant.”

“Knocked up, up the duff, preggers —”

“Klaus.”

“— with child,” Klaus drawls, sticking a spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth, casually looking away from Diego.

And Diego can tell he’s not dealing with it as well as he pretends he is, but his own brain is scrambled, and he winces as his next words come out. “Do you know who the alpha is?”

Klaus scoffs. “Oh, Diego dear, you wound me.” His toes flex against the lumpy couch cushion. “But it’s true. Who knew being a week late on your suppressant shot would be enough to trigger a full heat?”

Their father had them all on suppressants early on. It wouldn’t do for his team of child soldiers to go into rut — or, in Klaus’ case, heat — in the middle of a mission. Diego knows Klaus kept it up after he finally left. He may be reckless, but he’d seen enough of the streets even then to be cautious in some respects.

There’s something that’s off, though. “Heats and ruts don’t cause memory loss,” Diego says, already dreading whatever he’ll get in return.

“Oh, I was absolutely stoned.” Klaus looks unrepentant about that, not that Diego expected any different, but the flippant tone he adopts is strained. “Pretty sure my sperm donor had a great stash.”

The urge to bury another knife in Al’s walls hits him. This time, he’s pretty sure his grumpy friend wouldn’t necessarily mind. Or maybe Diego could track this fucker down and bury a knife in him — except, how’s he supposed to find someone with no information? Klaus might not like that, either. If he really wanted the alpha hurt, he’d have some information. Maybe he came by for an entirely different reason. Diego rubs his temple and asks the important question he doesn’t want to ask. “Do you need money to get rid of it?”

A dirty spoon smacks into the wall next to his head. Klaus doesn’t have his power, of course. “Fuck you, Diego,” he spits, jumping to his bare feet. “They’re your niece or nephew, you asshole! Told you this was a stupid idea.” Klaus glares at the corner.

Diego can feel his eyebrows shoot up, his mouth go dry. He never expected Klaus would want to keep the kid. His brother never was fond of the idea of popping out pups, and, with his lifestyle… Diego’s stunned stupid.

Whoever the fuck is haunting his apartment must say something smart or at least convincing, because Klaus’ shoulders lose some of the aggressive tension that was there a moment before. “I thought you’d be happy,” he says mulishly. “I’m getting sober or whatever.”

“For the b-baby?”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Nope, I finally realized daddy dearest was right. Of course it’s for my baby!”

“And you want my help?” Diego’s half-expecting one of their siblings to jump from behind the couch, because the Klaus he knows would never willingly give up the drugs, the booze. Rehab certainly hasn’t stuck. But there’s something serious about the way he’s saying it. Something in his expression, in the tone of his voice, that screams this isn’t a joke or a prank.

Not looking him in the eye, Klaus nods. “I don’t think I can stay sober on my own, Di.”

“Okay,” Diego says finally. “I’ll help. Just promise me you’ll think this through.”

The determined set of Klaus’ face is one he hasn’t seen in a few years — not since they first started talking about leaving the Academy.

Maybe this will work out.

Chapter Text

Klaus doesn’t sleep that night. He tries, if only because Ben won’t stop nagging him about it being good for the baby, but he’s too wired to slip off into dreamland. “I told you this would be a big shitshow,” he mutters, chewing at his already short nails. The polish is barely there anymore. He makes a note to paint them as soon as the jitters go away.

Ben gives him a flat look. “And I told you he’d let you stay. You’re both better off here.”

Diego, for all that he can be a light sleeper, ready to jump up and fight crime at the drop of a hat, snores away in his cot, used to the nattering of his siblings.

The old woman in the corner watches them all silently. Possibly because she was strangled. Jury’s still out.

“He thought I was here for an abortion,” Klaus says with a scoff. He ignores the way Diego’s eyes softened when he refused, the fact that his brother very purposefully gave him the larger of the two sandwiches he threw together for their dinner. He can’t think about that when everything before it stings so fucking much still.

Ben sighs. “Do you blame him, Klaus?” His words are sharp, but his tone is soft.

And Klaus can’t. Blame Diego, that is. Fuck, if he’d been in Diego’s place, he would have thought the same. He’s a mess, an addict, and none of that’s new. Besides, from the very moment Grace covered designation and sex and babies, he’d been blunt about never, ever wanting to have kids.

(Maybe he exaggerated a bit, complained about how disgusting the diagrams she showed them were. Maybe he never gave voice to the biggest fear lurking in the back of his head. Maybe he never wanted to think about handing his powers down to anyone, about knowingly cursing a kid with the shit he saw between highs.)

Klaus isn’t even sure he could explain why he cares so much about the bundle of cells in his stomach. He just knows that he stopped shooting up the day he found out he was carrying. It’s been so, so hard not to smoke a blunt or pop a pill since, but at least Ben’s been supportive.

And now he maybe, kinda has Diego, too.

When Diego shakes him awake an hour later, he has a crick in his neck from the back of the couch and drool on his chin. “Wha?”

“Breakfast,” Diego says gruffly, shoving a plate with slightly browned scrambled eggs into his hands. “And we gotta talk, bro.”

Klaus blinks down at the food. He’s not exactly hungry. “Aw, man, this early?”

“Have you been to a doctor?” Pacing the length of the boiler room, Diego idly fidgets with one of his knives. “What do p-pregnant omegas eat?”

Klaus shoves a forkful of eggs in his mouth. Just to give himself a moment.

At least the old woman is gone now.

To his left, Ben arches a brow.

Klaus resists the urge to stick his tongue out. “A, I’ve been to a clinic. B, why the hell should I know?”

Ben snorts. “Because you’re the pregnant omega here?”

This time, Klaus doesn’t resist.

Diego groans, ignoring whatever’s happening in front of him. “I’m off today. I’ll go to the library and do some research. You — stay here and take a nap. You look like shit.”

“I can help,” Klaus protests. He ignores the slight against his appearance and how he very much feels like shit.

(No, Ben, he’s not whining.)

That gets a small grin out of Diego. “Like you did when we were kids?”

So, maybe Klaus wasn’t the best at research and planning. He pouts but concedes. It’s not like he wanted to go sit in the stuffy library anyway. There are things he can do here instead. Like laundry. Al always let him use the washer and dryer in the back whenever he crashed here in the past. They were meant for towels, but Klaus is sure that’s where Diego washes his clothes, too.

When Diego leaves, Klaus grabs the worn duffle he brought with him, the one with the small handful of clothes he’s managed to keep hold of, and shuffles out to the laundry room. He waves cheerfully at Al as he passes.

Al shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t forget to empty the lint trap this time.”

Klaus promptly forgets. He pulls out a few crop tops, tosses them into the empty washer. He puts his leather pants aside, but some of his shorts go in, and he shakes out the old sparkly cardigan from the bottom of the duffle.

There’s a soft tap. Something fell out.

He peers down. Right between his bare feet, flat on the tile floor, is a little baggie of ecstasy. There’s just one pill left. He thought he’d taken the last of it a few weeks back, but it must have gotten lost in a pocket.

“Klaus!”

It’s just one. One little pill couldn’t hurt, right? He bends down and picks the baggie up.

“Klaus!”

His head snaps up. He swallows. It’s Ben, of course, and Klaus hates the disappointment on his face. Not that he can let go of the pill, either.

“Think of your baby,” Ben says tersely.

They’ve had a few moments like this. Moments where Klaus ran into some of his dealers, where he crashed in an alley with other addicts who were getting high right in front of him, where he broke down and cried with how fucking desperate he was to not see the ghosts littering the streets.

“You can do this,” Ben continues, taking a step closer.

“That’s the thing, Benjo.” Klaus smiles weakly at him. “Not sure I can.”

Ben stares him down. “You wanted to get sober. You were the one who decided you wanted to keep the baby.”

“I still want to.” His hand curls into a fist around the baggie. To his horror, he feels the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Then get rid of the pill.”

Klaus wants to shake his head and insist it’s not that easy. Because it’s not. Maybe he never really wanted to be free of the drugs before, but rehab couldn’t change that. He’s lasted a little longer than he ever has now, and that’s more than he expected, honestly.

But Ben’s right. He wants his baby.

Walking on trembling legs, barely conscious of where he’s going, Klaus enters the men’s locker room. He picks the first free bathroom stall. He rips the baggie open and clenches his jaw as the pill slips into the palm of his hand.

Just one, he thinks.

It drops into the toilet with an innocuous plop.

Klaus whimpers. He could still scoop it out before it dissolves. It’s gross, but he’s eaten straight from dumpsters before, right? It’s not that different.

Although Ben doesn’t say anything, he’s there, and that’s all that matters.

Klaus slams down on the handle and bites his cheek as the pill disappears down the pipes.

He’s been to the library plenty of times before. Anything he’s needed to research since he left the Academy brought him here, and the omega woman at the desk recognizes him with a smile, but Diego stalls in the entryway, uncomfortable.

He has no idea where the books on pregnancy would be. Why would he?

Brushing it off, he strides over to the desk with as much fake confidence as he can muster.

The omega gives him her attention. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for books on p-pr—” Diego clears his throat. His eye twitches. “Pregnancy. In a male omega.”

Perking up, the omega walks out from behind the desk. “Here, I’ll show you the section,” she chirps and takes off, expecting him to follow.

He does. He still feels wrong-footed, but at least someone’s willing to help. The one thing he’s pretty sure he knows about pregnancy is that Klaus needs to eat stuff other than what Diego can afford to fill his fridge with — especially if he’s going to need to buy food for two (three?) on the same budget.

Maybe Al can fit him in more fights.

“Here you go,” the omega says, stopping inbetween bookshelves and pointing at two sections. “These two shelves are about male omegas in particular.”

Nodding, Diego scans the titles and picks one at random. Male Pregnancy 101. Sounds simple enough to start with. There are more specific ones, too. Some of them are about exercising, some about preparing for birth, some on nutrition. He hesitantly grabs one of each. There’s also a couple on baby names. He stares at those but decides against it. For now.

(Klaus might already have a name picked.)

“Is this your first?”

Diego turns to the omega woman and blinks. “What?”

“Your first child,” she says, still smiling. “You look just as nervous as a first-time father.”

His brain screeches. Melts. “No! No, they’re for my brother.” The pregnant brother he probably smells like.

Although she nods, it’s clear she doesn’t believe him. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be a great uncle then. If you want to take any of those out, bring them up to the desk, okay?” She walks away.

Waiting for Diego to get back is torture. Klaus has long since finished washing and drying his pitiful amount of clothes, and he even took a lengthy hot shower in the locker room so that he could change into said clean clothes.

And then change again when the sight of his slightly rounded belly below the cut of his favorite crop top was too much.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Ben says unhelpfully.

“He’s been gone for hours,” Klaus whines. “And the dead lady’s back."

When he came in from his shower, she was there in the boiler room again, quiet but very obviously there for all the hours since.

Hours that gave Klaus way too much time to think. Without the distraction of Diego or laundry or the hottest spray he could wrangle out of the gym showers, his mind travelled to his baby. To his heat. To drugs and all of the places he could get his hands on some. He knows Diego will pick up on the horrible condition of his nails after a full day of biting them. Worse yet, his brother might ask.

Klaus doesn’t want to talk about anything today. What he wants is drugs — no. What he wants is to have that avenue blocked off for him. He wants to not have to struggle against his cravings for a few hours.

At some point, ignoring Ben’s unimpressed look, he even searches through Diego’s gear looking for handcuffs. If he could cuff himself tight enough, he could get through however long he has left before their brother gets back. And Diego should have keys to his cuffs, right? But there’s no handcuffs at all.

Oh, there’s plenty of rope. Good quality stuff, too, but for as flexible as Klaus is, he can’t restrain himself like that.

Which is why, the moment Diego walks through the door, a bag of books in hand and a furrow in his brow, Klaus is in his face. “Di! I need you to tie me up.”

“What? Klaus, no.” Diego shakes his head. “Do I even want to know?”

Klaus’ face falls, and he nearly backs off.

“Explain it to him,” Ben insists. “He’ll do it.”

Any other day, he might feel contrary enough to ignore his ghostly brother. Today, he gives in. “I’m having cravings, Di. Real bad ones.” His voice cracks.

That stops Diego. He puts the bag down on his cot and grimaces. “Tying you up can’t be good for the baby,” he says awkwardly.

Klaus presses on. “Neither is snorting coke.” Part of him hates to bring it up. Diego especially has never liked being reminded of his addiction, mostly because he was the one who had the highest hopes Klaus could kick it. At least in the beginning. Klaus could see those hopes wither a little with each time he ended up back in rehab, but now he’s actually trying. That has to count for something.

Diego falters and sighs. “Fine. But only when I’m home.” He’s still not relaxed, but he grabs his rope anyway and gestures for Klaus to sit on the folding chair he has by his table.

Snagging one of the couch cushions to sit on, Klaus follows his lead.

Diego begins to wind one length of rope around his legs, securing them to the metal chair legs with a hesitant hand. The bonds are still tight, though, enough so that not even his brother will be able to slip out of them without some effort. Then he moves to Klaus’ upper body with another piece. His shoulders and upper chest are bound quickly enough, but then he stops. Stalls.

“Arms,” Klaus says quietly. “Or I’ll get out before you can say molly.”

Taking a deep breath, Diego leans in so that he can work the rope around his arms and the back of his chair without wrapping around his abdomen. “I’m gonna have to feed your skinny ass by hand, aren’t I?”

Klaus winks at him. “Just think! Practice for babysitting duty.”

Diego flicks him in the forehead. “Let me know when you need to piss, bro.”

Chapter Text

The routine they settle into is surprisingly… domestic. When Diego’s alarm goes off in the morning, he’s on his feet before the second ring. He shuts it off and gets to work unravelling Klaus’ bonds while his brother whines at being woken up so early. Diego lets him get first dibs on the bathroom (not that there isn’t plenty of room and stalls in the gym locker room for the two of them).

Klaus comes back an annoyingly long time later, often wearing a ratty tank top and colorful underwear with a towel wrapped around his head, and eats his cold, slightly burned eggs without much fuss. In fact, he tends to praise Diego in a somehow snarky but grateful way the whole time.

(“A regular Julia Child, you are,” he said the first morning, right before getting smacked in the back of the head by a balled up sock.)

Diego’s so used to it he usually just gets dressed, his own breakfast already eaten. He leaves for the academy, leaves Klaus behind to do whatever it is that he does during the day, leaves his room knowing that it very well could be empty when he gets back.

But, every night, he comes back to a twitchy omega fiddling with Diego’s stash of ropes. They have an awkward conversation about how Klaus is feeling. They eat dinner. Diego ties him up — carefully. He goes to bed. Then it starts all over again.

It’s weird, then, to find Klaus pacing the length of the boiler room that evening.

Diego drops his bag on the floor and changes right then and there, not bothered by his brother’s presence. Side effect of growing up in a house that didn’t have as many bathrooms as you’d need for seven children, he supposes. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Klaus says flippantly even as he threatens to wear a hole down in the floor. He makes a face at the corner and deflates, stopping his pacing but fiddling with his clothes to compensate. “Hey, does this place have a spare key?”

Diego arches a brow. “Nah.”

The boiler room only has one because Diego requested it. Or, rather, he installed it the night he moved in and gave the spare to Al. He doesn’t lock it when he’s there, anyway, and to his knowledge, Klaus hasn’t left the gym since he first came by a few days before.

Klaus makes a face. “What happens if you forget yours?”

“I don’t forget it.”

Klaus huffs. Fondly. “Of course you don’t.”

Opening up the mini fridge, Diego pulls a tray of ice out of the small freezer and twists it, hearing the thin layer connecting the cubes crack. He drops a few into a glass and fills it with water. “Why do you need a key, anyway?”

“Because I live here? Remember? I’m hurt, Di.” Klaus scratches at the nape of his neck and squints at that same corner of the room. “Or maybe I have a doctor appointment.”

Diego blinks, holding his glass right up at his mouth but not taking a sip. He’s done some reading since hitting the library the other day, and he knows there are a slew of appointments covering everything from ultrasounds to tests Klaus should have during the course of his pregnancy. “For what?”

“Well, I have this little bundle of cells growing in me —”

“Klaus.”

His brother sighs dramatically. “It’s possible this is my first appointment at the clinic.”

But Klaus already smells pregnant. He wouldn’t, if it was very new. Diego didn’t ask when his heat was, but he has to be at least a month, maybe even two, in. Diego takes a sip and shakes his head. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Klaus drops down on the couch and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Hence, you know, key.”

Tomorrow is a bit soon, a bit of a stretch, but Diego knows there are exceptions for mates at the academy, and while he and Klaus are definitely not mates, his last visit to the library makes him think he could use that slight hint of new life that’s rubbed off on him to his advantage. “I’ll come with you.”

Klaus’ head rocks back in shock. “No, no,” he says, flapping his hand erratically. “I’m good. We’re good. Besides, I thought you were trying out the cop thing. I bet they just love a man on time.”

He certainly doesn’t sound like he’s good. Diego knows that pitch, and, even if he didn’t, he sees the wild look in Klaus’ eyes every night as he wraps the rope around his arms. “I’ll be there,” Diego says, pulling open the fridge.

It almost looks like his brother is going to say no. Like he’s going to brush him off again and insist on the key instead. He doesn’t.

And then they fall into their routine.

Klaus isn’t sure how to feel. He’s up earlier than usual, even earlier than Diego, because anxiety does that to him, and yes, maybe Ben’s right about him being über anxious about his appointment.

(Not that Klaus will admit it outloud.

Ben already looks a little smug — under all the worry.)

It’s just that, well. Klaus isn’t stupid, no matter what some of his siblings and most of his acquaintances out on the streets might say. What his father would undoubtedly say right to his face if given the chance. He knows he’s fucked up his body. He knows that his appetite has waned since he started the drugs, that he frequently waffles closer to unhealthily thin, that his addiction-riddled body doesn't make for the best, most ideal baby incubator. The chances the doctor at the clinic will recommend an abortion or, at the very least, judge him for going through with the pregnancy — especially with several very unsuccessful rehab stays under his belt and on his record — are high. The chances his baby will be preterm are just as bad.

He also knows he’s a bit selfish. He’s keeping this baby because he wants them. Maybe he shouldn’t go through with the pregnancy, knowing he was taking drugs with the usual fervor for the first two months of it.

But, he just. He wants this kid. His baby is the first person he’s ever seriously wanted to give the drugs and the booze up for. Hadn’t Ben been bugging him about it for years? Diego, too. Neither of them could sway him, but then suddenly he’s got this, this fetus in him, and now he’s willingly suffering through the ghosts for the first time in years.

Speaking of, the old lady’s back, and she’s brought friends.

Klaus squeezes his eyes shut. Unlike the old woman, the others are chatty. His name echoes through the boiler room, shivering up his spine and raising all the hair on his arms. He’s desperate for a smoke. He shifts in his seat. If Diego hadn’t agreed to tie him up every night, Klaus is sure he’d be out looking for his favorite dealer right now.

“Klaus.”

He grits his teeth. It’s never worked before, but maybe this time the ghosts will go away if he pretends they’re not there for long enough.

A hand taps his cheek.

He takes a peek, his eyes cracked open to the slightest degree. It’s Diego. Of course. He should have recognized his voice.

(Sometimes it’s difficult to parse Ben, when they are enough of the ghoulies hanging around.)

“You okay, bro?” Diego doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s tugging at the ropes, deftly unraveling whatever knots he’d made the night before.

“Yeahhh,” Klaus mutters. “You know, you really don’t have to come with me today.”

Diego gives him an amused look. “I already called in and told them I’d be late.” With one last tug, the last of the bonds goes slack, puddling around Klaus’ waist, and he walks over to the mini fridge to pull out the eggs.

Klaus trudges off to the bathroom. Well, he tried.

(And maybe he’s glad he’s not going alone.

Shut it, Ben.)

The clinic is small, shabby. Klaus has been here before for his suppressant shots. Every few months like clockwork he’d roll in and hand over just enough wrinkled dollar bills to cover what he needed, and they knew him there. It feels a bit like coming home now, honestly.

Going home was never his favorite activity.

Klaus gives the secretary a wide smile. “Hey —”

The man behind the desk gives him a flat look. “Do you have an appointment?”

His smile sharpens. “In about, oh, ten minutes. Hargreeves.”

Diego doesn’t touch him, but he does sway a little closer, their arms brushing.

It’s comforting.

“You and your mate can take a seat,” the secretary says blandly. “A nurse will call your name when they’re ready for you.”

Mate. Mate? Klaus opens his mouth to tell the guy that oh, no, this is his emotional support alpha, not his mate, but the secretary arches a brow and clears his throat.

Diego shakes his head, brow creased, and steers Klaus away.

So they sit. There aren’t many empty seats left in the small clinic, though they manage to find two together in the back corner. The chairs are cramped, cheap things. Klaus fits fine, crossing his legs and folding himself into the small space. Diego takes up more space. His knee brushes up against Klaus’ leg. Ben, thankfully, doesn’t need a seat.

They very pointedly don’t talk about the mates thing. It feels like eternity before they’re called back.

“Hargreeves!”

Klaus rockets up to his feet. Usually, Ben would fall in line with him, but this time it’s Diego, unintentionally walking right through their ghostly brother to take his place as they walk down the hall to the available exam room. Klaus gives Ben an apologetic glance.

The exam room is familiar. Not that Klaus was sober enough during his past visits to say if he’s been in this specific one before. They’re probably all the same cookie cutter design. He hops up on the edge of the bed, shifting just to hear the paper crinkle underneath him.

Diego sits in one of the chairs by the wall. He watches Klaus for a moment. “You excited?”

“Positively giddy,” Klaus says with a high pitched laugh just as the door opens.

The doctor’s expression is just as bland as the secretary’s. “Morning, Mr. Hargreeves.” Her gaze drifts over to Diego. “Your mate, too.”

This time, Klaus is a little less shell shocked. “He’s not my mate,” he sputters.

“Brother,” Diego corrects awkwardly.

She moves on as if they’d said nothing. “How far along are you?”

Klaus pouts. “Three big ones.”

“Three weeks?”

“Months,” Klaus stresses. He keeps his eyes on the doctor, waiting for the disappointment, the disgust to appear. Vaguely, he’s aware of Diego jolting forward in his seat and Ben coming to stand by the side of the exam bed.

“And when was the last time you drank or took drugs?”

He grins, half proud and half daring her to say something bad. “Around a month, I’d say.”

There it is, the disapproving set of her mouth.

But Klaus doesn’t care, not really. This is the first time he’s managed four full weeks on his own. Doing it in rehab was different, simpler. With just Ben by his side for the bulk of that time, it would have been so much easier to give in.

Somehow, the doctor holds back any comment she might have made. “You indicated on the phone that you’re keeping the child.”

“Yup.”

“He’s staying with me,” Diego cuts in, and dare Klaus say it, there’s a satisfyingly hard edge to it.

She scribbles something down. “We’ll do a basic ultrasound today, and you can schedule your next appointment at the desk on your way out.”

Klaus watches her turn on the machine. He lays back when she tells him to but hesitates for the slightest of moments when it’s time to pull up his shirt. But he does lift it, and there it is — the soft swell of his stomach. It’s not big. Yet. He’s only three months along, after all. It’s only as noticeable as it is because of how skinny he is, how little he’s eaten in the months since his last heat. He bites his lip.

Then the doctor puts the freezing gel on his stomach, spreads it with the wand, and there’s a picture of his baby on the screen.

They’re just a blob right now. Small and unrecognizable.

Klaus can’t look away. This is real. Realer than the bump he’d been ignoring just a little because it was too real at the time.

The doctor hits something on the machine, and there’s a heartbeat.

“Woah,” Ben breathes out at his side.

Klaus stares. He doesn’t hear anything other than that beat. No ghosts screaming his name, none pleading with him even though he knows a few of them followed him over from the gym. “Are you sure that’s a baby?” he says dumbly.

Diego knows roughly what to expect. The books said the first ultrasound wouldn’t show much at all. The baby would be tiny, especially if Klaus is only about six weeks along, but he doesn’t know how far his brother is. He looks up when the door opens.

The doctor is an omega woman with tired eyes. She’s probably already seen a bunch of patients today. “Morning, Mr. Hargreeves,” she says, and Diego twitches, half expecting their father to be there. “Your mate, too.”

What is it with everyone thinking they’re mates? Diego can feel the burn spread across his cheeks. It’s hard to forget sometimes that they don’t smell like siblings, that there’s no blood shared between them.

“He’s not my mate,” Klaus says, eyes wide and exasperated.

Diego clears his throat. “Brother.” He doesn’t intend on talking much during this appointment. He wants to listen, to absorb all the information he has a feeling Klaus will be forgetting, and make sure he knows what they’re supposed to do. The books can’t tell them everything.

“How far along are you?”

Klaus leans forward. “Three big ones,” he says proudly.

“Three weeks?”

That doesn’t quite sound right, though what does he know? According to the books, it would be a little early for some omegas’ scent to change, but Klaus always did like to break convention. Diego can’t imagine he’s too far along.

But Klaus also loves to defy expectation. “Months,” he corrects.

Diego jolts forward. Three months? That’s a third of his pregnancy already gone. Three months of Klaus being on the streets pregnant, and suddenly Diego feels both insulted and so, so very relieved that Klaus came to his door when he did.

The conversation moves along without taking notice of his shock. Thankfully, he manages to catch up in time to show some support for Klaus in front of the doctor.

Then she sets up the ultrasound.

Diego feels ready for this. He did look ahead a bit, so he knows some of what to expect despite Klaus being further than he suspected. The baby should be about two inches long, he thinks. It won’t look much like a baby yet.

“Lift your shirt, please,” the doctor says briskly.

Klaus fiddles with the hem for a second before complying.

Diego can’t help his curiosity. His eyes settle on the stretch of pale skin he hasn’t seen once since the omega moved in with him despite Klaus’ love of crop tops. He blinks. Klaus is showing. It wasn’t obvious through the clothes he had worn, but it’s blatant now. Diego thinks it must be the first time he’s seen him without a worryingly tight stomach, and his gaze lingers.

That’s his family. He’s got a niece or nephew in there — someone untouched by all the shit they grew up with.

The ultrasound itself is about what he expects. A little blob, not much recognizable to him or Klaus.

But the heartbeat. Nothing could have prepared him for the heartbeat, and Diego’s breath catches as he registers the sound. He’s distantly aware that his instincts have been raised. This is real. There’s a baby in Klaus. A baby that’s family, that’s got his omega brother and no one else.

Well. Klaus and Diego, because Diego doesn’t think he could even contemplate not helping out now. In six months, Klaus is going to have a baby.

It’s too real. Too soon.

Diego rips his gaze away from the screen, away from the bump, and looks over at his brother’s dumbstruck expression.

At least he’s not the only one.

Chapter Text

Life goes on, and they don’t really talk about it. About the baby. At least not at first.

(None of the Hargreeves were ever really great at communication, so it’s not terribly surprising.)

Still, not for the first, the fifth, or even the twentieth time in the last few days, Diego finds his eyes drawn to Klaus’ stomach. Klaus’ bare stomach. Apparently the shock of having seen his baby on the screen, of having confronted the fact that he really does have a life brewing inside of him, was enough to kick whatever shyness he developed about showing off his body, and he’s gone back to crop tops.

Klaus is sitting on the couch now, long lean legs criss cross applesauce in front of him, a hairbrush in his hand that he’s not at all using to brush his wet hair but rather gesturing with as he talks to whatever ghost is squatting in Diego’s apartment now. His slightly rounded stomach is cradled and on display right between his legs. With every wild gesture, his ratty crop top rides up and shows a little more pale flesh.

Diego blinks and tries to pull his eyes away. He’s unsuccessful. There’s something mesmerizing about the physical proof that his lanky brother is carrying.

They also hung up the ultrasound. It’s taped to the support beam in the middle of the room, right below one of Diego’s first fight posters. Somehow, it’s not as eye-catching. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t look like much?

All Diego knows is that he’s spent a frustrating amount of time training his gaze on that swell and inevitably feeling that awful burning in his cheeks when Klaus catches him staring and makes a funny face. It reminds him too much of being caught looking at the cooling cookies on the rare occasion Mom was allowed to make them for them. Though Mom never stuck her tongue out at him. Or pulled at the skin right under her eye and puffed out her cheeks.

And now he’s thinking about Klaus in Mom’s clothes. Great.

(He has reference for that image, too, though his brother was shorter and slightly more baby-faced the last time he got away with rummaging through her closet.)

Closing his eyes, Diego does his best to banish that entire line of thought. And then pretend he managed it.

When he cracks the eggs in the pan on the little hotplate, he nearly puts his thumb right through one and has to fish bits of eggshell out of the rapidly cooking whites.

“Oh, Diego dear, you didn’t have to,” Klaus sing-songs from right over his shoulder.

Diego just barely stops himself from jumping. His eye twitches.

There’s a soft brush against his lower back that can only be from Klaus’ stomach, based on how close he is.

“It’s just eggs,” Diego says gruffly. “The same shit I’ve fed you every day you’ve been here.”

Klaus kisses him just above his ear with a big, exaggerated smack before pulling away. “You make a good wife, Di.”

One of his knives — and yes, he does carry them in the mornings, just to be prepared — sinks into the poster on the pillar, several feet to the left of his brother. He trusts his aim implicitly, but that doesn’t mean he’ll risk it. Them.

“Feisty,” Klaus calls over his shoulder before dropping back down onto the couch.

Diego keeps his eyes on the eggs.

They end up being slightly more overcooked this morning.

(He blames it on Klaus.)

Handing his brother the plate with the bulk of the scrambled eggs, Diego sits at the other end of the couch and starts shoveling food in his face, aware that he has to leave for the academy soon. He really shouldn’t have spent so much time getting distracted this morning.

Klaus picks at his. He takes a nibble now and then. Makes a face at someone Diego can’t see.

Diego sighs. “Klaus, eat.”

“I am,” Klaus whines.

“You’re picking.” And then he hesitates, because they haven’t talked about the baby, but, according to the notes they got from the clinic and what his brother said himself, Klaus is about thirteen weeks along now. He has to eat more. “That kid needs more than that to grow.”

Klaus grumbles but sticks a bigger chunk of egg in his mouth. “I guess you’re not wrong.”

“They’re growing a lot right now,” Diego blurts out, mind racing through all of the information he’s compiled in the books he took out. He spent time rereading the sections about the next few weeks during his lunch breaks the last few days. “They’re developing fingerprints a-and vocal chords and shit.”

“Really?” Klaus is still chewing his breakfast, little bits of egg popping out of his mouth. He drags a hand across it as he looks over at his brother. It absently rests on his stomach then, his palm splayed across the bare skin.

Diego’s gaze drifts down to it. “Yeah, man.”

His alarm goes off.

Cursing, Diego jolts off the couch and shuts it down, tugs his uniform on, and races out the door.

“See ya,” Klaus shouts after him.

Ben stares him down. “You’re going to finish that, right?”

As soon as Diego was out the door, his bites got smaller, and he was back to picking at the eggs again. “I’m not hungry,” Klaus says mulishly. “Would you be, with this company?”

There are ghosts milling around the boiler room. Some of them are watching the exchange, some don’t seem to even notice. A few have tried to talk to Klaus this morning, but Ben told them off. All of them are bloody in one way or another.

Klaus is sure more of them will approach him by the end of the day. A lot more. He grimaces. This is going to be a long pregnancy if he can’t get a break. He wraps both arms around his stomach, hunching over the bump.

“I know,” Ben says softly, “but you have to take care of yourself. My niece needs food, Klaus.”

“It’s too early to figure out if the baby’s a girl.” With a frown, Klaus grabs the plate again. “Besides, Benji, don’t push your gender stereotypes on my fetus.”

Ben sits on the couch with a satisfied smile. “With your genes? I’m sure they’ll look great in a dress regardless.”

“Damn right they will.” It takes another ten minutes to finish eating the eggs despite the encouragement, and by the end, Klaus feels stuffed to the point of discomfort. He puts the plate in the sink and crawls in Diego’s cot.

“He’ll smell you all over his sheets,” Ben calls out from the couch.

Klaus pulls the blanket over his head. “I don’t care.”

Because he’s exhausted. Between the baby and the ghosts and the cravings, he constantly wants a nap nowadays. He used to be able to go for days without sleeping, but it feels like the baby’s zapping all of that energy, and some days he can barely muster up enough to make sure Ben and Diego don’t have too much of a reason to nag him.

It doesn’t help that Diego has a larger entourage of ghostly companions than most people. Not only was he one of the frontline attackers back in their Academy days, he must have continued running around thwarting crime after he left, because there are a few Klaus doesn’t recognize. Thankfully, the gym itself isn’t home to many ghosts.

(Not like the alleys. Thousands of people die on the streets across the country every year, and, of course, he called those places home for the last several years.)

He sleeps.

He wakes up with a pleased little sigh, hips rocking lazily. Whatever he was dreaming about has faded, but the rich thrum of arousal is still there, still very present in a way that it hadn’t been since before he finally worked up the courage to listen to Ben and go to Diego. The pressure against his dick is nice. He’s about to slip his hand down to where he’s wet and aching when he’s rudely interrupted.

“Klaus.”

He groans but pokes his head out from the blanket to give Ben an annoyed face. “What?”

Ben has a hand over his eyes, his head dipped as he shakes it. “You’re still in Diego’s bed.”

Maybe he has a point. Klaus doesn’t want to get up but he does. He can’t imagine Di will be happy if he rubs one out there, and he really needs to have a reliable place to stay if he’s going to go through with this pregnancy. He pouts and sits on the couch, underwear still tented, because it’s not as if Ben hasn’t seen him like this before.

“I’d ask if you have no shame, but I already know the answer to that,” Ben drawls. “I’ll be back later.”

And Klaus doesn’t, not really. Not anymore. He’s conscious, though, of not making a mess as he trails a hand down past the dark hair peeking out of the top of his underwear.

He does like living with Diego.

Diego’s wiped at the end of the day. The academy was boring, and he’s only had half a mind on it anyway, if he’s being honest.

He’s still thrown from that morning.

Al nods at him as he walks into the gym. “I’m pretty sure he’s still here,” he says, getting right to the point.

“Thanks,” Diego mutters. It’s a little uncomfortable that Al can see through him so well, but he knows the man means well, and his words do serve to soothe a bit of the worry.

Realistically, if Klaus wants out, he can get out without Al noticing.

But Klaus is there in the boiler room, lounging on the couch in a pair of shorts and the same crop top from that morning, flicking through a magazine he got who knows where.

Diego drops his bag on the cot. He sits down to take off his shoes and —

Klaus lowers the magazine just enough to peer over the top of it.

“Really, bro?” Diego cries out, standing up as the scent on his blanket registers as omegan arousal.

Klaus’ arousal.

“If it helps, I didn’t come all over your blankie.” Although he puts the magazine down, Klaus doesn’t bother moving off the couch. He does stick his tongue out at the far wall.

Diego takes a step forward, and the scent gets stronger. He takes another few, just to confirm the suspicion that hits him. “The couch?” If this were any other time, he’d whip out one of his knives, aim just below Klaus. His hand twitches.

“I was horny,” Klaus retorts and pouts. “The baby’s making me really randy, Di.”

Not for the first time in his life, Diego curses the fact that he’s got a sweet spot for the omega in front of him. He’s always been more likely to bend his plans for Klaus, always been more likely to stick around longer than the others, and now is no different. He scrubs a hand across his face, and the fight leaves him. “Try to stay out of my bed next time, alright?”

Klaus perks up. “No problemo.”

“You eat lunch?” Diego says, moving on and trying not to think about how he’s going to sleep in a cot that smells like happy, horny omega tonight.

“Breakfast was super filling…”

Diego can’t sleep. He lies there facing the wall, eyes shut, blanket pulled over him, but he’s been like that for hours now.

His cot, his blanket — they’re saturated with Klaus’ scent. He must have slept there part of the day for how strong it is. It shouldn’t be an issue, because Klaus’ scent is as familiar to him as his own is. They all presented around the same time, though thankfully not on the same day, and he would recognize the omegan tang as his brother’s immediately, no matter how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other. He even remembers those awful years when all of them were going through puberty in close quarters so the smell of jizz isn’t exactly foreign.

This is different. There’s something more to Klaus’ scent now, something that pings in his hindbrain as baby and, more importantly, fertile. And while he never minded the way the omega smelled before, that tinge is giving him some — some problems.

Like the hard cock pressing against his boxer fly. His entire body is stiff. The urge to hump the blanket, to go over to the couch and coax Klaus into smelling like that again, to be the cause of it himself this time is stupidly overwhelming, and he can tell his face must be bright red without even looking.

Diego doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Klaus is bobbing his head along to the music coming from his walkman, trying desperately not to think about how easy it would be to stroll down the street and buy a little coke, when Diego comes home.

Well. Klaus doesn’t notice him for a while because of the music. He does notice when Diego places a bag in his lap. He blinks, grabbing for the bag automatically and making a face when he sees the logo for some baby boutique on the side. “Aww, Di, that’s sweet, but you know they’re not big enough for toys yet, right?”

“It’s not for the baby,” Diego says, not looking at him as he changes out of his uniform.

“For moi?” Klaus pulls the headphones down to rest around his neck, the music sounding tinny with the distance. When he reaches inside the bag, he finds a small tub of something. “Belly butter,” he reads as he traces the label with a thumb.

“That shit was expensive, so you better not use it anywhere other than your stomach,” Diego says with a bit of a stink-eye. There’s a flush on his face, too.

So he’s definitely not over the whole horny thing. It’s not like Klaus came in his bed. He moved to the couch! And cleaned up! All without belly butter. He doesn’t need fancy lotion to jerk it. (Admittedly, though, his mind did drift that way as soon as he saw the label.) “You’re too sweet,” Klaus croons. Cracking it open, he notes it has a pretty light scent. He drags a finger across the top of it and rubs it on the back of his hand. It does feel nice.

Diego barely looks at him as he futzes with the hot plate and a small pot. He’d said something about soup that morning, hadn’t he?

“Chicken noodle,” Ben reminds him from the other side of the couch.

Probably with lots of vegetables, based on how Diego’s been shoving healthy food at him lately. Klaus hums and scoops up a little more of the belly butter. He lifts his shirt and smears it over his rounded stomach. It takes some massaging to get it all absorbed, but once he’s satisfied, he pulls the hem of his shirt back down.

Across the room, Diego yelps as he stubs his toe.

His brother is going to be the death of him. Diego’s sure of it. He’s barely gotten any sleep in the last week, his mind conjuring up that addicting scent every now and then, even on days when Klaus apparently isn’t feeling horny. It doesn’t help that his little makeshift apartment is smelling more and more like his brother with every day that passes. They’re in such close quarters that there’s no spot that’s just his own anymore.

Especially since Klaus likes to nap in his bed during the day.

Is it any wonder Diego walks into the police academy dazed half the time? Eudora still hasn’t stopped snickering when she sees him in the mornings.

(On the plus side, at least two of his instructors have stopped watching him like he’s going to start a fight in the middle of class. Which, admittedly, he did do once after one of his asshole classmates decided to bring up the Academy he’s trying to forget. Or maybe it was twice, but who’s counting?

Diego feels a bit like punching him again just thinking about it.)

This evening… doesn’t help matters. Buying the belly butter was a split second decision. He passed the baby shop sometimes when he went jogging, and even though he knew just by looking at it that it was out of his price range, he wandered in a few days after going to the library for research.

The first thing in the shop was a display for lotions. They were all supposed to help with stretch marks, which wasn’t even something he considered at that point. The fact that Klaus was pregnant was still sinking in, honestly. He left without buying anything that day, and specifically looked for information about stretch marks in his library books the next day during their lunch break. His mind was already made up, though.

It took him a fight and some saving to gather enough for one of the lotions without cutting into their food money. He bought the first one on the shelf.

Of course, it never hit him that Klaus would be using it. Rubbing it on his stomach while in the boiler room.

Diego’s foot has an unfortunate encounter with the minifridge when he sees the omega try it out right then and there. He nearly burns the soup twice after that just thinking about it.

Maybe the next thing he saves for should be some room dividers. He could give Klaus some privacy that way.

(Though it’s doubtful Klaus would bother staying in his own space, honestly. Case in point — the way his scent is practically engrained in Diego’s cot now.)

Diego makes a point of giving Klaus more chicken and vegetables than broth.

The good thing about Diego being at the academy for hours during the day is that Klaus doesn’t have to force himself to eat more than he wants to. Yeah, Ben still gives him an unimpressed look, but Klaus is used to his needling by now. He grabs one of the containers of leftover soup — reused soup tubs from the closest Chinese takeout place — out of the fridge and digs a spoon in, coming up with mostly broth. He’s not sure if it’s the drug cravings or the baby, but something is making him feel nauseous today.

“At least eat some of the chicken,” Ben says as he sits down on Diego’s cot.

Klaus huffs but eats a cube of it anyway. Not for Ben, though. For the baby. He doesn’t bother talking, because he knows he’ll end up shouting by accident. His headphones are on, and his walkman is on full blast in a desperate attempt to drown out his unwanted guests and their god awful screeching. The only reason he knows what Ben was saying was that it’s often the same thing.

Another bite, Klaus. One more for the baby. You need to eat more.

And Klaus is genuinely trying. He just can’t stomach too much most days. Hence the broth, which he takes another spoonful of, not fazed by how cold it is straight out of the fridge. He’s eaten worse. Closing his eyes, he hums along with the music blaring in his ears. He opens them to dig the spoon in again —

And one of the ghosts is sitting on the couch in front of him. Ben has a grip on their shoulder, but they’re one of the more persistent ones, screaming something in his face so violently they’d no doubt be spitting on him if they weren’t, you know. Intangible.

“What the fuck!” Klaus jumps a little, spilling soup down his shirt and into his lap, dislodging the headphones from their perch on his head.

“Klaus,” the ghost shrieks.

Scrambling off the couch, Klaus points a finger at them and makes a face. “Okay, you’re really pissing me off now, asshat!” He bends down to put what’s left of the soup on the floor, absently noting that he’ll have to clean up all the bits that are dripping off of him. “Go the fuck away!”

He meant it to be stern, maybe a little menacing. It ends up coming out in just as unholy of a scream as the ghost’s words, because, mid-sentence, he’s hit by a sudden sharp pain close to the bottom of his stomach and leading down towards his groin that makes his voice jump shrilly.

Somehow, it makes the ghost leave. Ghosts, actually. All of them except for Ben leave, but Ben’s always been special.

Klaus stumbles and drops back down on the couch, putting a hand right where the pain was, his eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” Ben’s eyes are wide, too. Frantic, even.

“It hurts,” Klaus mutters. He pales and stands up suddenly. “I’m not bleeding or anything am I? Ben?” He winces as another pain hits him, deep on both sides of his groin.

His brother walks around him. “Not that I can see. Are you in pain?”

“Yeah. I — You don’t think I’m —”

Ben shakes his head sharply. “No, I don’t think so.” He puts a worried hand out, but of course, it phases right through Klaus’ shoulder. “Why don’t you call Diego?”

“Why would he know what to do?” Klaus wraps an arm around his stomach without even thinking about it.

“Why would I know what to do? At least he can help you,” Ben says even though he doesn’t want to admit it, admit, in a roundabout way, his own fear.

But Klaus already knows. He and Ben have been a package deal for years now, and they’ve gotten closer than they ever were before. He didn’t bring any attention to it, but he remembers the helpless edge to Ben’s voice back when he was still begging him to go to Diego in the first place.

Klaus grabs the phone.

Diego gets a pass for the rest of the day. He’ll have to see his instructors about what he misses, of course. He doesn’t care, though, doesn’t give a second thought to the consequences as he runs down the street towards the gym. He needs to get home.

He needs to get to Klaus.

One of his instructors pulled him out of lunch to tell him about a call they received from his brother, who apparently sounded terrified. It was something about pain? They didn’t get a clear answer from Klaus, but Diego is already on his way, his instincts frantically pushing him forward. He makes it to the gym in record time.

Al’s surprised to see him, calling out after him.

Diego doesn’t look back. He finds Klaus in their room in the back, curled up on the couch and covered in drying soup but otherwise looking fine. “What happened?” His bag slides off his shoulder to hit the ground with a thump.

“I had sharp pains,” Klaus says, holding his stomach and looking entirely too serious, too shaken. “Di, I —”

“I’ll call the clinic,” Diego blurts out. He grabs the phone and dials. It rings for a good ten minutes before anyone picks up. He barely lets them greet him before he’s telling them what’s going on, prodding Klaus for the details as he goes and stuttering over a word here and there.

“It sounds like he’s dealing with round ligament pain,” the nurse on the other end of the line says patiently. “It’s normal. Get him a warm water bottle and have him rest if it happens again. Tell us if the pain gets worse or feels any different.”

Okay, so Diego does have vague memories of reading about that. He hangs up and leans against the wall for a moment to catch his breath.

“You don’t look like you’re preparing for a funeral,” Klaus says lightly.

“It’s normal,” Diego says, repeating the nurse’s words. He pushes off the wall and fetches his hot water bottle. Thankfully, he already has one for days he needs it after training. He sets some water on the hot plate to warm up. “She said heat will help. You wanna shower?”

Klaus bites his lip and seems to consider it. He shakes his head but gets off the couch anyway, reaching for his bag of clothes.

Diego swallows and turns to watch the water until the rustling settles down, until the omega is all changed. Once the water is warm enough, he carefully pours it into the bottle and seals it up. “Go lay on the cot.”

“I thought you didn’t want me in your bed.” There’s a slight smile on Klaus’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows. It’s not as obnoxious as usual. He’s too worried still.

Diego is glad to see it there anyway. “Special circumstances, man. If you don’t want to…”

Klaus crawls onto the cot and sprawls out. He lets Diego position the water bottle and blankets around him without much of a fuss, just an amused look and an air kiss.

There’s not enough room for two in the cot, not really, not that that would be a good idea anyway, because Diego doesn’t need to give his overactive mind anything else to feed on at night. He drops down on the couch, suddenly feeling ridiculously tired. “It’s because you’re pregnant. Something about ligaments stretching and stuff,” he says, thinking back on his books.

There’s a few moments of quiet, the only sounds around them the ones coming from the gym beyond the door.

“What else did you read?” Klaus shifts and pulls the blanket closer.

Diego looks over at him. He can just barely see his face over the covers. He fumbles for facts that are slipping through his fingers now that he’s on the spot. “They drink their own pee,” he blurts out. “The baby. In the womb.”

Klaus laughs and then groans as another pain hits him. “Kinky. What else, Doctor Di?”

“They’ll be able to suck their thumb soon.” Diego smiles slightly thinking about it. It’s weird to picture with how tiny they are right now, but his brother’s baby is definitely getting closer to being an actual baby every day. Which reminds him. “They’re the size of a bagel bite right now.” One of the books had a silly size comparison for every week, and they were weird enough to memorize easily.

“Did you just compare my baby to a bagel bite?” Klaus sounds mock-offended but also interested.

Diego snorts. “I’ll buy you a bag next time I go shopping, bro.” At least the omega seems to be interested in some kind of food now. It’s not the healthiest thing by far, but he’ll take it.

Pulling his arms out from under the blanket, Klaus cheers. Then there’s a beat. “Wait, would that be cannibalism?”

Chapter Text

Something’s shifted between the two of them. Something that, maybe, if Klaus put the time into analyzing, he could put a name to.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to think about that horrible stretch of time between the first pain and the way Diego’s shoulders sagged with relief before he hung up the phone.

Apparently, neither does Ben, because he’s very pointedly not pushing the issue. If anything, he seems to be more relaxed whenever Diego is around, hovering in the way he’s taken to in the last two weeks. Ben hovers, too. He’s the first to suggest grabbing the hot water bottle or taking a rest.

Klaus doesn’t really mind. It chafes, sometimes. Mostly, though, he’s quietly enjoying being taken care of. Oh, he coos obnoxiously when Diego gets a little overbearing, makes a well-placed quip whenever Ben nags him a bit much, but he’s self-aware enough to know his limit for tolerating their attentiveness has changed. He just doesn’t want to think about the whys.

“At least eat a piece of fruit,” Ben says, his head tilted back over the back of the couch.

Klaus sighs dramatically as he hits the start button on the microwave. He grabs an apple from the bowl Diego has started keeping stocked. “Happy, Herr Doktor?” He bites off a big, crisp chunk and watches the plate of bagel bites turn through the glass.

“Maybe if you ate an apple a day, I wouldn’t have to nag you about it,” Ben says dryly.

They both know he’s just glad Klaus is eating more, even if ‘more’ still isn’t quite as much as he should be.

“My baby doesn’t want apples.” Klaus takes another bite anyway, loudly crunching away at it. “They want tiny pizza bagels.”

And ecstasy, apparently, but he hasn’t mentioned that to either of his brothers. They’ve noticed him being twitchy when the hardest cravings hit, so it’s not like they don’t know. Klaus can have tact. Sometimes.

Well, in this instance.

He opens the microwave right before it beeps, sighing happily at the smell of nuked pepperoni. Grabbing the plate, he rounds the couch and drops down onto the cushion next to Ben, one bagel bite already crammed in his mouth, the apple rolling abandoned on the plate.

“Beautiful,” Ben deadpans.

“I’m glowing,” Klaus says, not bothering to finish chewing first. He rests his food in his lap. His stomach is already much more obvious than it was a few weeks ago, partly because of how skinny he is everywhere else, and it makes the plate sit precariously. Even his crop top doesn’t quite hang right. The very edge of it bunches up at the top of his bump.

“Klaus.” There’s a slight edge to Ben’s voice, one that’s becoming unfortunately familiar.

Klaus groans and swipes at his nose. He’s not at all surprised to see a small smear of blood. He stuffs another bagel bite in his mouth before getting up to grab the tissues, rolling the edge of one and jamming it into his nose to stop the bleeding.

The nosebleeds were another thing they ended up frantically calling the clinic about. Apparently, Klaus is prone to the more outwardly alarming symptoms. He took a bus down to the clinic with Ben, insisting he didn’t want to drag Diego from the academy again — which they both knew was a big, fat lie — just to find out that it was all hormones. Unless the nosebleeds ever get heavy, he’s more than likely fine.

(That didn’t comfort Diego, who came back that evening to find him with bits of tissue stuffed up both nostrils, a few drops of blood on one of his ratty crop tops, and promptly freaked out.)

Thankfully, he doesn’t get them too often.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says with a sigh once all of the bagel bites are gone. The apple is still there, still rocking on his plate as he moves it. He grabs it in one hand and two towels in the other, slipping the shower sandals Diego bought him on before leaving the boiler room.

Ben waves. Showers he doesn’t stick around for despite his hovering. Especially with Klaus’ pregnancy libido.

The gym isn’t too busy in the middle of the day on a weekday. Most of the regulars have gotten used to seeing Klaus wander around, and they don’t bother him too much. They stare sometimes, yeah, but Klaus got used to being stared at as a kid and then even more once he hit the streets, still recognizable as The Séance. Besides, he’s pretty sure Al said something to ward them off.

Or they smell Diego on him and know how rabid his brother can get. Or both? Klaus doesn’t really need to know, he decides.

He hums as he stuffs his dirty clothes into what has become his own locker. (He ignores the man screaming obscenities at him in the corner.) He hangs his towels up on the hook by the closest shower and slips in.

It’s hard to ignore his bump in the shower. It’s really the only time he’s flat out naked, since he doesn’t have a space of his own and Diego gets weird about knowing his bare ass was against the couch. He can’t really luxuriate or muse here, but it’s there. Gripping the apple with his teeth, he suds his stomach up idly, hands lingering on the swell before he pulls away to work shampoo through his wet curls. They’re getting longer, too, long enough that good ol’ Dad would have long since had Grace pull him aside for a trim.

Klaus isn’t sure how either of them would react to what else he’s growing. He faces the showerhead, eyes closed, and feels the cooling water paste his hair down against his scalp. He supposes he does know how Grace would see it. She loved to take care of them, more than she was programmed to somehow, so she’d probably be ecstatic.

He doesn’t particularly want to know what Reginald would think.

The water runs cold. With a pout, Klaus conditions his hair quick, finishes up his apple while it sinks in, and gets out of the spray as soon as he can.

Besides the rude ghost, he only runs into one other person on his way back to the boiler room, and it’s Al, who takes one look at him wrapped up in a towel, another piled on his head, and shakes his own head. Klaus gives him a cheery wave.

“That was a surprisingly short one,” Ben says as the door opens.

“I wasn’t in the mood for any me time today.” Winking at him, Klaus makes an obscene gesture and kicks off his sandals. He stretches out on the couch with a hum, still tucked up in his towels.

“Have I ever told you you’re gross?”

Many, many times. There was a period of time when Ben wasn’t quite sure how to not be around Klaus, and Klaus got over the awkwardness a lot faster than his ghostly brother could. Ben’s seen more of him than he ever wanted to.

Klaus waves him off. “I’m sure Di’s jacked it in those showers before.” He squirms a little and blames it on hormones. Apparently thinking about their parents couldn’t kill his boner forever.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I love youuuu,” Klaus says, blowing him a kiss. He laces his fingers together loosely over his bump and relaxes.

Diego is exhausted. He stayed behind longer than usual to catch up with Eudora, to study and make sure he’s really taken in everything he should have. He tries to pay attention, he swears.

It’s just that… his mind is often back at the gym with his brother. It’s been maybe a month (twenty-four days, actually, but who’s counting?), and it seems like Klaus is existing to give him heart failure. The ligament thing, the nosebleeds, the constant smell of horny omega — it’s too much. Most days, he walks in the door expecting something new.

Today isn’t any different. Still, expecting the unexpected doesn’t help him deal with the actual unexpected.

Klaus is sprawled across the couch, headphones over his ears, eyes closed and head nodding along with the music coming from his walkman.

He’s also wearing a pair of booty shorts, the button undone just below the swell of his stomach, and a sweater.

One of Diego’s sweaters. It’s big on him in several ways. It’s less big around his midsection.

Diego stares. He might have cursed, too, if his mind wasn’t completely empty. He’s not sure how long he stands there, eyes wide and unblinking, but it’s long enough that it burns when he finally does blink.

Somehow, Klaus doesn’t notice he’s there the entire time.

Clearing his throat lightly, Diego shakes his head and kicks off his shoes, putting his bag by his cot. His fingers are clumsy on the buttons of his uniform shirt. He gladly tugs his undershirt over his head, replacing it with a thin sweater, and pulls on a pair of sweats. Slowly, he makes his way over to the minifridge. He stalls when he passes the couch.

A poke on the forehead makes Klaus scrunch his face up and blink up at him. “Rude, Di.”

“Says the guy wearing my clothes without asking,” Diego calls over his shoulder. He pours himself a glass of milk and drinks it facing the wall.

“Mine don’t fit,” Klaus retorts.

Diego had noticed he was mostly wearing crop tops the last few days. As a rule, he tried not to let his gaze get caught on the omega’s bump, but, from what he saw when he walked in, it makes sense. “What are you gonna do when mine don’t fit anymore?” He grabs an apple and tries to distract himself from the idea of his sweaters stretched out. Loose in the stomach from where they’ve been taut against Klaus’ swell.

He nearly bites his own tongue.

“I dunno.” There’s a huff. “I guess I’ll just have to go nude, huh?”

It’s said cheerfully, and Diego can’t help but remember the summers Klaus wandered around the house in little more than his underwear, complaining about how hot it was. His brother has even less shame now. He would ignore clothes all together if it was the most comfortable option.

Diego doubts he’d survive a repeat of those months. “We’ll get you some clothes,” he blurts out. “There’s a thrift shop down the street.”

The couch creaks and then Klaus makes a soft sound like he’s stretching out, standing up and working out the kinks in his shoulders. “Pretty sure I’m banned from that one. The old man behind the counter has eyes like a hawk. Haven’t seen him around lately, so I don’t think he’s kicked the bucket yet.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He has to turn around now. He’s spent too much time facing the wall, hasn’t he? Diego shuffles around and promptly regrets it, because Klaus is bent over touching his toes. His sweater dips down to reveal a strip of skin between the hem and his shorts. Diego focuses on his apple. Or tries to. It’s a little bruised from his grip now.

Klaus slips past him to get to the fridge, going straight for the bagel bites, which is good, because he’s eating. Right?

Taking another bite, Diego moves out of his way and drops down on the couch. He catches the light scent of belly butter on the omega as he passes, and, yeah, he’s going to need to wash that sweater well before he wears it again. Or maybe he’ll just let Klaus have it. He’s already letting him take the bed some nights. “I’m not buying you another bag this week,” he says. It’s an empty threat.

Klaus rounds the couch a minute later with a plate of piping hot little pizzas. He sits sideways on the other side and sticks his feet in Diego’s lap. “Shocking. You’d starve your own nibling?”

“You’ll starve them if you don’t eat more healthy foods,” he grumbles half-heartedly.

“I had an apple today.” Klaus wiggles his feet, gets more comfortable. Despite what anyone else might think, he does feel a bit bad for making Diego uncomfortable, but his brother’s alpha scent is soothing. He can’t believe he didn’t think about stealing his clothes before. Just wearing his sweater and being drenched in his scent has curbed some of the cravings and made him feel less restless. Being close to Diego works wonders.

Hence why he’s practically pinning the alpha down with his legs.

“And half a bag of bagel bites,” Diego says flatly.

Klaus pouts. “Fine. I’ll eat another apple — if you make it worth my while.”

They both know what he’s talking about. This, too, is another thing that’s changed. It helped settle him when Diego talked about all of the things he’d read in his library books, and Klaus hasn’t been able to stop pestering him for more. It makes him feel connected to his baby, to his brother.

And Diego is all too happy to share. He curls a hand around one of Klaus’ bony ankles. “They’re developing taste buds this week, a-and hearing…”

Chapter Text

Ben leans back against the back of the couch and watches them. There’s not much else he can do right now anyway, what with Klaus asleep, painted toes peeking out from underneath the pile of blankets he and Diego are covered with.

Together.

Sharing beds wasn’t something their father ever let them do as kids. Reginald Hargreeves didn’t see a point to silly behavior like that. There was no time for sleepovers, not when they should be getting a full night’s rest in preparation for whatever crime they needed to stop the next day. They shouldn’t be gossiping or joking or having fun. If they insisted on staying up, they should be working on their studies.

It still didn’t stop them from sneaking into each other’s rooms at night on occasion, damn the consequences.

And once Ben died… well, every night became a sleepover with Klaus.

Seeing Diego lay belly down, snoring in Klaus’ ear, however, is not something he ever thought he’d see again. Especially not now, not when Ben could tell Diego’s perception of their omega brother has been changing in ways neither of them are mentally prepared for. Maybe their other siblings would be grossed out. Ben, on the other hand, just wants what’s best for Klaus and his baby. If that happens to be Diego, well. None of them batted an eyelash at Allison and Luther after the initial reveal, had they? It seemed oddly fitting.

So does this.

Diego’s alarm goes off. He slaps it, ending the shrieking that didn’t stir Klaus in the slightest.

Ben watches him. He knows exactly what’s going to happen next, because it’s happened every single day in the nearly a week since Klaus put his foot down and told Diego to stop being a martyr.

Both Ben and Klaus could see he was feeling progressively worse every day he spent sleeping on the couch. It wasn’t good for his back or his sleep, and it was making him more and more tired and therefore crankier. Sure, it was sweet that he wanted Klaus to have the couch.

It was also annoying. Klaus lasted all of three days before he dragged Diego over to the bed, nagged him into laying down, and then took the outside edge so that he’d have to crawl over him to get out.

(“You wouldn’t crawl over a pregnant person, would you, Di? That’s illegal. Or something.”)

Diego gave in.

Now, he groans and turns his head, catching sight of the omega next to him drooling all over the pillow. They’re close, so close. He shifts slightly, which only makes a sleeping Klaus throw an arm over him to keep him still.

It doesn’t matter how they arrange themselves when they go to bed. Ben’s seen them start out back to back, as much space between them as possible on Diego’s small folding cot, only to end up draped over each other in the morning. It does double duty of making tying Klaus up unnecessary. Any attempt to get out of bed would wake Diego up.

And, clearly, Diego doesn’t have the heart to wake Klaus up with the reverse. He tries to get away again and stops when the omega huffs. He waits a few minutes before pulling himself out from underneath the arm at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time he manages it, he’s got very little time to make breakfast and get out to the academy, so he hauls ass.

Klaus always wakes up at the smell of food. Sometimes, it’s because he’s hungry. Others, it’s because the last bit of morning sickness that clings to him makes itself known. Either way, he eventually stretches out on the cot, gives Ben a wiggle of his fingers in greeting, and gravitates towards Diego and breakfast.

Diego gives him the bulk of the eggs, as usual. “You need to eat more,” he says bluntly when the omega pouts.

“Thanks, Mom,” Klaus sing-songs, knowing well enough by now that the alpha won’t give on this.

Ben sees the way he tries to eat more for both the baby and Diego. He sees the way Diego himself seems to short circuit a bit at the teasing, finally flicking their brother on the ear before he shovels his own breakfast into his mouth and jets out the door.

“What’s on your mind, Benny?” Klaus pushes the rest of his eggs around on his plate, as if he could fool Ben into thinking there’s less if he keeps them moving.

“I was wondering if you were going to finish your food,” he says dryly.

Klaus shoves a chunk of egg into his mouth and chews obnoxiously. “Happy?”

“A little.”

The phone rings, and Klaus finishes up his bite before he picks it up. It can’t be Diego — there’s no way he’s reached the academy yet.

It’s the clinic.

“Mr. Hargreeves? I’m calling from the clinic to schedule some tests.”

He shares a look with Ben. “What kind of tests? I was always horrible at tests.”

Grace once called it test anxiety. Their father insisted he was just lazy.

“You left your family history blank,” the man on the phone says, bored. “If you don’t know any of it, we recommend testing for potential complications you and your baby might be more prone to.”

Fuck. Klaus didn’t think about complications. He didn’t think about family, either.

They were all adopted, and Reginald didn’t care to talk to them about where they came from. That part wasn’t important. Their powers were his chief concern. Diseases? Didn’t matter. They were special, anyway. Who knew if they even inherited anything much from their birth mothers — not even their names came from the poor women who found themselves rapidly pregnant that day in ‘89. Grace was the one who gave them those years later.

The only person who might be able to tell him if his baby is at risk for anything is his father. If he kept records.

Klaus wraps an arm around his developing bump and knows he’ll never contact Reginald, not even for his baby. Especially not for his baby. “What time can I stop by?” He could be there within an hour if he gets out now. Suddenly, he feels like he needs to do this now.

“I need to schedule your anatomy scan,” the man says. “We can do them at the same time. Usually, that scan is around week twenty.”

He’s seventeen weeks. Can he really wait three weeks?

“We have an opening in two weeks,” the man continues when Klaus is silent.

“Sure, book it.” Klaus bites at his nails. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Calm down,” Ben tells him, as if it’s that easy. “Klaus, breathe.”

The man rambles off the date and time, and Klaus manages to scribble it down on a piece of scrap paper left by the phone for this very reason. He hangs the phone up. He sways a little.

“Maybe you should rest,” Ben says, brow furrowed.

“Actually, I think some fresh air would perk me right up.” Barefoot, still dressed in shorts and one of Diego’s sweaters, Klaus grabs the keys and leaves the boiler room without a destination in mind. He knows Ben is following him, probably making sure he doesn’t wander off too far.

Al gives him an odd look as he walks out through the front.

The streets outside are just as busy as Klaus remembers. He hasn’t left the gym very often on his own since moving in, not wanting to tempt himself, but being out in the open air settles him in a way he didn’t realize he needed. He’s spent a few years on these streets. Years without a roof over his head.

It’s relaxing to be back.

He picks a direction and walks. And walks. And walks.

“You should turn around,” Ben cautions him.

Klaus stops to actually take in his surroundings, and — yeah, he really should. He tugs on a bit of his hair. It’s growing longer and longer by the day. Sometimes he wonders if maybe he should’ve gotten pregnant sooner if it was going to do this much for his looks, but it’s one of those silly thoughts he brushes off in the middle of the night when sleep eludes him and then promptly brings it up in the morning.

(Ben wasn’t amused. Diego looked constipated.)

More importantly, though, is that he recognizes these streets a little too well. Two alleys down is where he got ahold of the best cocaine he’s ever had. One back is where he used to buy his weed.

“You always have the best ideas,” he says cheerfully.

Ben’s eye roll makes the cheer a little more genuine.

Taking a shallow breath, Klaus promptly turns heel and heads back in the direction of the gym.

“Klaus?” That voice is familiar. No face comes to mind, but that’s almost worse. Sometimes, being high was beautiful. Sometimes, not so much.

He moves faster.

“He’s not following you,” Ben says softly, a few streets down. “You don’t have to rush.”

Klaus laughs weakly. His feet ache. “It’s called exercise. I think the doctor said it was good for us.”

Ben keeps watch for him the whole way back.

Al stops Diego when he comes back that evening. “He went for a walk earlier,” he says, nodding back towards the boiler room. “Something spooked him.”

“Thanks.” Diego picks up the pace a little.

As soon as he opens the door, Klaus is up on his feet, his hair mussed, his lip swollen from chewing on it. “Di! Just the alpha I wanted to see! I have a small favor to ask, bitte.” He pinches his pointer finger and thumb together.

Diego looks him over and feels his shoulders relax when he finds no visible damage. “What is it?”

“I put on my thinking cap earlier — must have been all those eggs giving me a brain boost, you know — and —”

“Bro,” Diego cuts in. “What’s wrong?”

Klaus’ mask crumples a little. “I maybe took a walk earlier.”

Diego nods. “Al said so.”

“And my gorgeous feet might have taken me into a bad part of the city.” Klaus fidgets and then drops back down to the couch.

Diego’s heart drops. He doesn’t see any of the signs of a high, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t take anything. And Klaus was doing so well, too. It’s hard to believe he slipped, honestly. Diego swallows. “Did you —”

“No!” The look Klaus gives him is part irritated, part resigned. “My body is a temple, Di. Nothing but pizza rolls, fruit, and whatever my personal chef makes me. Pinky promise.”

His personal chef being Diego himself. And Diego believes him now. He believes that he managed to hold back, even if it was a close call, which it probably was. He takes a deep breath. “So, what’s the favor?”

“How do you feel about a little daytime bondage?” Klaus tilts his head and winks.

“Now?”

Klaus flaps a hand at him. “What’s the use in that? While you’re learning to be a big boy, of course.”

But Diego spends hours at the academy each day. At least while they were tying the omega up at night, he could call out and wake Diego up if he needed to pee. During the day? Al wouldn’t be able to watch him in the boiler room and manage the gym at the same time. Klaus would either need to have loose bonds that wouldn’t do what he’s asking for or be trapped all day by himself. “Absolutely not.”

“But —”

“No. Not happening. We can figure something else out, Klaus, but I am not leaving you here tied up by yourself.” He already worries about him during the day. He already spends so much time thinking about him and the baby and the way he’s filling out, the way he’s drenching more and more of Diego’s space with his scent everyday — point is, Diego can’t imagine heaping on the worry. He’s sure something would go wrong.

Klaus frowns, but he lets it go. For now. “By the way,” he says, leaning his head back over the top of the couch, “clear your schedule for… two Wednesdays from now.”

Diego nearly trips at the sudden change of topic. “What?”

“I have an ultrasound,” Klaus says tiredly. “Something about an anatomy scan and tests.”

Walking over to the calendar on the wall, Diego marks off that day and makes a note to call in for it. “I’ll be there,” he promises. And he finds he really wants to. The thought of seeing his niece or nephew again… this time, getting to see more of them, to know better what part of the blob is what, is thrilling. He sighs, kicking off his shoes. “You hungry?”

“No, but I guess I’ll be a good boy and eat my vegetables tonight.”

Diego grins, shakes his head, and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

Chapter Text

‘Something else’ ends up being work.

Klaus is not… ungrateful, per se. (No, Ben, he didn’t give Diego a stink face when he brought it up. It was a muscle spasm. Probably.) He just never saw himself working at a gym, that’s all.

Of course, precious few of his dreams have become reality, so maybe he should think of it as a stepping stone. Plus, it’s not like it’s hard labor. Al isn’t expecting much at all from him, really. Check the vending machine stock now and then. Give the machine a good whack on the side if it gets stuck. Keep an eye on the smaller weights, because several have gone missing over the last year, and Al is certain one of the members is sneaking them out piece by piece when no one’s looking. Klaus doesn’t even have to stop them, just point it out. Loudly. Then it’ll take care of itself.

Al isn’t asking him to do any cleaning, either. No heavy lifting. And although there are definitely things he’s expecting but not voicing, Klaus is observant enough to understand exactly what those are.

Like being a calming force. It sounds silly to think of him as soothing with how jittery he is some days, but the scent of a pregnant omega does wonders on most alphas. They’re less prone to getting into fights outside of the boxing ring, less likely to start shouting matches over stupid shit. Even without the bun in his oven, his scent was an advantage he’d long since learned how to use on the streets, though sometimes it wasn’t worth the potential fallout if it didn’t work. Here, though, he has Al to ward off anyone who tries to get handsy despite Diego’s sweater draped over him.

There’s also a noticeable uptick in customers. Most of them don’t smell like they’re mated. The ones whose scents are tinged with omega or even a heavy amount of beta haven’t changed their routines much at all. Klaus finds it endlessly amusing that so many alphas are coming more frequently just to preen in front of him or be in an omega’s presence, even if they don’t realize they’re doing it.

Attendance raises a bit more after Al gives him an exercise ball in response to his (numerous) complaints about his balance. He swears it’s an extra one. (It looks brand new.) The baby, while so small still — and Klaus sometimes lies in bed cradling the bump and trying to comprehend how a full term baby will even fit in him — is making him fucking clumsy. He feels like he’s had another growth spurt, like he’s trying to get used to having another few inches on his frame again.

(Ben, of course, is equal parts worried and amused.)

The exercise ball was meant to go in the boiler room. Honest. But, when Klaus brought it out to the main room, tired of being on his feet and feeling restless at the same time, Al didn’t make a fuss.

He even gives him extra money for the vending machines on the days he does yoga with the ball in the gym — and doesn’t tell Diego about all the chips and cookies he snacks on. It’s their little secret.

Well, with Ben, who still nags him into eating fruit now and then inbetween.

And being out in the gym instead of cooped up in the boiler room does solve his problem, though Klaus doesn’t think he’ll be telling Diego he was right anytime soon. He’s too busy to think about drugs too often. He has so many eyes on him, expecting him to be there, that he doesn’t have much of a chance to wander off and buy any, either.

He becomes even busier the week of his scan, because another pregnant omega wanders in asking about classes. Her mate comes in with her, and Klaus recognizes her as one of their regular alpha customers. Apparently, some of the mated ones have been noticing him, too.

Al, ever ready to take in more profit, is quick to say that while they don’t have enough people to set up a class, she’s more than welcome to sign up to use the gym in the meantime.

So Klaus ends up with a video tape on prenatal yoga courtesy of Al. It seems to help with the leg cramps that start up — another thing Diego read about in his research. Sandra, the quiet omega who tells him it’s her second child now, seems content to follow his off the cuff routines the once a week she comes in with her wife.

She’s also the one who encourages him to take pictures. To document his pregnancy for his child and himself. The day before his scan, her alpha brings a disposable camera in for him and leaves it with Al while he’s showering.

Diego walks in on him fiddling with it that evening. “Is that a camera?”

“Yup.” Klaus looks up at him and grins, hopping up to his feet. “Hey, Di, be a dear and take some glamour shots of yours truly?” And then. Then he strips off the sweater he stole this morning.

Diego takes the camera dumbly. “Why am I doing this?”

Klaus pouts at him, as if Diego wasn’t already convinced to do this for him. “For the baby, silly.” He lays a hand on his bump. “So they can have proof of how hawt their daddy was carrying them.”

The worst part is, Diego knows these pictures will end up taped up beside the ultrasound images once they’re developed. They’ll be in full view in his space every single day, and he knows himself well enough by now to admit he’ll end up looking at them. A lot.

Whenever he’s not staring at Klaus himself, of course.

This is going to be hell.

Diego dutifully snaps a few pictures before his brother flounces up to him and makes grabby hands for the camera. He distracts himself for a while making dinner. It’s nothing fancy, however, and making some basic chicken and rice doesn’t take nearly as long as he wishes it would on days like this.

They turn on his little TV while they eat. There’s nothing much on, but it still feels exhilarating to do it, to say a fuck you to their father, who would have thrown a fit if any of his children even thought about eating away from the table, let alone watching nonsense at the same time.

Klaus is sitting cross-legged with his plate balanced on one knee. His other brushes up against Diego’s.

It’s… cozy.

When he wakes up, he’s utterly content for that first few seconds before his brain really kickstarts and reminds him that the soothing scent he’s nosing closer to is his brother’s. Klaus’s slightly shaggy hair is soft against his forehead.

This is becoming uncomfortably familiar.

As is the arm Klaus wraps around him in his sleep, a small happy noise escaping him.

Diego privately wonders if any of their siblings would be surprised at how close they’ve gotten. He has the time to think this morning, because he’s excused from the academy until noon for Klaus’ next scan, and that itself prompts a thought for what his classmates and teachers must think. They know Klaus is his brother. They still treat them like a mated pair.

Not that Diego cares what they think. Not about what anyone except Klaus and Al and maybe Eudora think, and well, Klaus is the one latching onto him. Al is helping them in his own way. Eudora knows the truth and finds the whole situation hysterical.

(She also, last week, said he would be a good dad.

It was an offhand comment, and they didn’t talk about it afterwards.

Diego remembers it often enough and grins.)

Since they have a few hours before they have to be at the clinic, he allows himself to relax right where he is, Klaus’ bonding gland right under his nose. The soft curve of the baby between them rests next to his side. He can feel it through the thin layers of clothing. His right leg is thrown over the omega’s, who tends to really spread out when he doesn’t press himself up against Diego. His left is out from under the blanket. It’s cold in the boiler room, but he doesn’t care.

He’s comfortable.

He doesn’t even feel guilty about it. Klaus has been even more tactile than he used to be lately, and that’s saying something. The fact that his scent has become increasingly more soothing is just a byproduct of his pregnancy and their closeness. Hadn’t he told Diego to cool off so many times when they were younger?

Diego’s downright cuddly and soft now, drowning in his scent.

It’s at least a half an hour before Klaus yawns and pokes him in the cheek. “‘M hungry, Di.”

And Diego can’t say no to that, not really, but he grumbles anyway and makes a show of pulling himself out of bed. Not all of it is fake. He really was comfy.

Soon enough, the boiler room is filled with the smell of scrambled eggs, cheese, and toasted bagels.

He hands a sleepy Klaus a plate before dropping down onto the couch next to him with his own.

When they do get to the clinic, Klaus is on edge. He’s got his legs crossed at the knee as they sit in the waiting room, and both his feet are bouncing nonstop.

Diego knows he’s worried (and Diego is, too, because he’s aware of the kind of shit his brother was putting into his body before he moved into the gym). Still, the constant, rapid movement is enough to make him anxious, too. He puts a hand on Klaus’ knee. “The baby’s fine,” he says quietly. “I know it.”

“I didn’t know you developed another power,” Klaus quips, but his leg stays steady under the alpha’s touch. “Don’t hold back on the lotto numbers. Babies are expensive little jerks, you know?”

Diego has the feeling it’ll start up again as soon as he removes his hand.

So… he doesn’t. Not until they’re called up for their appointment.

First up are the tests. There are several they have to do, and the nurse assures them they’ll get a call with the results soon enough. Klaus has to go pee in a cup, but most of the rest involves taking blood, which Diego stares at the wall for, feeling queasy just seeing the amount of little test tubes they have to fill.

The nurse also checks his legs. Both of them relax a little when she comments that it’s a very good thing he doesn’t have any swelling yet.

Then the doctor comes in for the big one. The ultrasound, the anatomy scan. She looks at Klaus’ chart and frowns. “You’re not eating enough, Mr. Hargreeves.”

“He’s trying,” Diego cuts in before Klaus can, feeling the tips of his ears warm. Of course his brother can defend himself. Of course he didn’t need to say anything.

“He needs to eat more or the baby won’t develop properly,” she says sternly.

Klaus holds up his ‘hello’ hand. “He is right here. If I promise to finish my vegetables like a good little mensch, will you two stop bickering?”

She gives him a flat look but sets up the ultrasound machine.

The gel must be cold, because Klaus jumps a bit even as he watches the screen, eager to see his baby and maybe a little worried, too. He reaches out blindly.

Diego grabs his hand before he looks to the screen. His heart is in his throat, and the queasiness hasn’t quite faded. He squeezes Klaus’ hand to ground himself and gets a white-knuckled squeeze in return. The image on the screen, so much more recognizable than it was the first time, is enough to make him stop breathing.

The doctor hums as she moves the wand. “As I expected, the baby is smaller than they should be. Not by as much as I anticipated, however. I’d like you to gain at least a few pounds before I see you next, and hopefully they’ll be at a better size as a result.” She points at the screen now. “As for the gender…”

Both of them lean in. Diego’s not entirely sure what his brother is hoping for, if he’s hoping for anything in particular. Honestly, the one thing he is certain of is that Klaus will enjoy dressing his baby up in cute clothes regardless of what’s between their legs. Diego himself finds he doesn’t care either way.

He just wants them to be healthy.

“See here,” the doctor continues. “Your baby is shy. With their legs crossed like this, I unfortunately can’t tell you what you’ll be having this time.”

Diego snorts, not able to help himself. There’s a giddiness welling up in his chest. He glances over at Klaus. “You sure it’s your kid, bro?”

Klaus gives him the finger, but he’s smiling and snickering, and Diego’s heart is light.

Ben shakes his head as the doctor prints off a copy for them to take home. He knows his brothers. He knows they haven’t noticed they’re still holding hands.

(And, deep down, as frustrating as it will be, he knows Klaus will deny whatever it is brewing between them if he points it out before the omega realizes it himself.)

Chapter Text

It’s a silly thing. Very silly. And very much something their father would never have allowed, which is enough for Diego to push aside any hesitation and enter the toy store in front of him.

“Hello,” the woman behind the counter chirps. “Are you looking for anything particular today?”

He gives her an awkward smile. “Yeah, actually. A troll doll.” Honestly, he’s not entirely sure they sell them anymore. He remembers seeing them in shop windows when he was a kid. He remembers thinking they looked weird but also sort of wanting one, too.

Of course, none of them had very much in the way of toys, and most of what they did have was more of a training device than anything else, so just about any toy they couldn’t have was tempting. Then they all grew up. Toys weren’t as tempting as working harder to beat Luther was or, in Klaus’ case, figuring out which drugs muted his powers and felt the best.

She directs him to a corner with a variety of weird plastic dolls with wild hair.

He hadn’t realized there would be so many different ones. Diego stares at the wall of them, at their big eyes and defined noses and — so many colors. It hits him that he’s not really sure what Klaus’ favorite color is, which doesn’t help at all here, and maybe he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed, because he ends up just grabbing one with lime green hair. He brings it closer to look at it.

It’ll work.

On his way back to the front of the store, he passes an entire aisle dedicated to toys fit for toddlers and stalls there for a few minutes.

...They haven’t bought a single thing for the baby. Not just in the way of toys, either. They don’t even have clothes or diapers or a crib. Klaus is twenty weeks along this week.

They don’t have much time.

The employee looks a little concerned as she rings him up, but he gets out of the store with an obnoxious troll doll in a plastic bag without too much hassle other than the storm swinging through his head.

Klaus is attempting to do some yoga when Diego comes home.

Attempting, because he’s tired and bored and today the yoga isn’t providing the easy distraction he thought it would. A tiny part of him thought about jerking off before his brother got back, but, well…

He’s already done that twice today. What can he say? Pregnancy hormones are making him randy, but not even that is appealing to his tired mind right now.

(Especially not with the handful of ghosts that were wandering around the gym today. Klaus isn’t exactly shy, but he doesn’t always want to be watched, either.)

It isn’t helping that Diego is late. He didn’t say he’d be going to the store after the academy, which means he should have been home a good hour ago.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ben says from where he’s leaning against the wall.

“Di can take care of himself,” Klaus agrees, despite the discomfort in his chest. He shifts into one of the warrior poses just as the door to the boiler room opens.

Diego comes in — with a brightly colored plastic bag.

“It’s from a toy shop,” Ben says, a bit amused.

Klaus stands up straight, glad for the new distraction and the familiar burst of fresh scent Diego brings with him every afternoon. “Oooh, what is it?”

“Personal space, bro,” Diego says half-heartedly, and his scowl is not nearly as fierce as the ones he’s leveled at Luther before, not even the ones he used to give Klaus sometimes. Rolling his eyes, he holds it up in front of Klaus’ face. “It’s for you.”

The plastic crinkles in his hand. Klaus reaches in and pulls out a troll doll. With bright, lime green hair. And no clothes.

Ben peers over his shoulder at it, brows raised.

Holding the doll up by its gravity-defying hair, Klaus brings it right up to his own face. “Aw, it’s creepy, and I love it, Di.” He latches onto his brother’s back, his bump between them and the troll doll pressed against the alpha’s shoulder where Klaus’ hand ends up. It means Diego’s scent gland is close to his face, too.

(Klaus isn’t complaining.)

Diego clears his throat and pats his arm. “Good,” he says, and his voice goes a little wonky. “The, uh — the baby.”

“What about my little pizza bagel?” Why hasn’t he ever realized just how comfy Diego is? Klaus leans on him a bit more.

“They’re as big as that thing this week,” Diego gets out in a bit of a stilted way.

Klaus can feel the rumbling of his voice through his back, and it makes his sleepy eyes drift shut, but he forces himself to finally pull away and take his troll back to the couch. He is, annoyingly enough, hungry, and Diego can’t cook with him draped on his back. He flops down on the couch, the doll cradled in the crook of his arm. One hand finds his bump without hesitation. “You’re too sweet,” he coos as he looks at the alpha.

Diego waves it off, but there’s a flush on his face.

Klaus kind of likes seeing that.

“We need to go shopping for supplies,” Diego says, ignoring him. “You’re already more than halfway along, Klaus.”

Huh. He is, isn’t he? Twenty weeks — five months, and he’s been living here with Di for two of them.

Ben chuckles and perches on the arm of the couch at his feet.

Glancing over to check that Diego isn’t watching, Klaus gives him an exaggerated questioning look and mouths a quick ‘what?’

“I just realized you two are going to have to figure out diapers in four months.” Ben smirks, shakes his head. He’ll get to be the uncle, but Klaus won’t be able to foist the stinkier duties off onto him. Except that he’s not sure how much of an uncle he’ll get to be. It’s entirely possible the baby won’t be able to see him. None of the Hargreeves have had children yet. Who’s to say their kids will inherit their powers? His smirk fades then, and his face goes serious. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you told him.”

To be fair, Ben understands. To a point. He was there when all of their siblings shook their heads at Klaus, when they told him to stop messing with them and let them grieve. All of them knew his powers didn’t work when he was high. All of them knew he was high at that point in time.

Not even Ben and Klaus understood — understand — why he can still see Ben anyway. Why Ben comes through the strongest out of all of the ghosts.

It’s entirely possible Diego will think he’s playing a prank on him again.

Ben doesn’t think he will, though. Diego knows Klaus is sober now, in all respects, and with how close they’ve gotten… there should be enough doubt to get him to listen.

But Klaus’ face falls. He shakes his head, turning his attention down to the troll doll by his arm.

“Just think about it,” Ben says softly. They haven’t had to worry about anyone else seeing them talking since they left the Academy. Everyone on the street just saw a druggie talking to himself and his hallucinations, and even Diego might have seen that at some point. Now, though, Ben is certain things could be different.

He misses being able to talk with Klaus whenever he wanted.

Klaus nods slightly.

It’s enough.

They go to the store the next day. It’s not the same baby boutique Diego went to weeks back, because they don’t have anywhere near the budget to get everything they need there. It’s just the closest department store.

The baby section is overwhelmingly big.

Scratch that. Every individual section of the baby area is overwhelming. The first happens to be baby food. Klaus figures it shouldn’t be that much, right? Babies don’t have much in the way of taste buds, he imagines, and it’s all pureed shit, right?

Wrong. There are grades of food. They have different numbers on them, different consistencies, and he has absolutely no fucking idea what any of it means.

And the flavors? There’s pureed steak in one of the jars he pulls off the shelf. Why would a baby need to eat steak?

There are so many different kinds of baby-sized spoons, too. Spoons and bottles that all have different claims written all over them in colorful block letters. These ones are reusable. Those are supposedly easier for a baby to latch onto. There’s a section filled with teething toys at the end of that aisle — ones that promise to ease his kid’s pain as their first teeth come in.

Klaus doesn’t remember getting his first teeth, obviously. He remembers his wisdom teeth coming in, and that hurt like a bitch. It’s a bit horrifying to think of a baby going through the same persistent pain.

He grabs a frowning Diego by the arm and pulls him into the next aisle. It’s clothes this time.

There are so many different sizes, and somehow it apparently never computed that a baby would grow so fast, that they would need new clothing every few months. Most of them are brightly colored and have animals all over them. He sees onesies, shirts, pants, bibs.

Itty, bitty baby socks and hats that make him tear up and curse his silly hormones.

Diego drags him out of that aisle when he nearly starts bawling over a onesie with a cat hood and paws on the feet.

It doesn’t end there. There are so many cribs to choose from, and all of them talk about safety features on the box — something that neither of them thought about at all. Car seats, too, are a mess of what’s safe and what’s not, and Klaus can see the gears grinding in Diego’s head in the face of all of it. They don’t have a car yet, but he knows the alpha has been considering it for a while now, even before Klaus came to stay with him.

Maybe the next aisle will be better.

Of course, it’s not. It’s diapers. Diapers and creams and powders and why are there so many options?

Even Ben is frowning at it all, quiet and contemplating and confused.

Klaus wraps an arm around Diego’s shoulders. “How do you feel about kidnapping Mom?”

Diego nods faintly but then shakes his head. “She’d have to tell Dad.”

Klaus grimaces. “That sounds like an awful idea. Di, buy me a bag of pizza bagels?”

(He does. He grumbles, but he does, and they go home with nothing at all from the baby section of the store.)

The very next day, Eudora pulls Diego over to a quiet corner during their first break. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen this,” she says quietly, holding out a magazine.

Magazine might be too nice of a word. It’s a gossip rag, is what it is. A tabloid.

With Klaus on it. Diego, too, but he doesn’t care about what they have to say about him. His heart sinks at the bright red arrow pointing at Klaus’ small bump, barely hidden in the sweater he’d stolen the day before. It’s too easy to see next to the rest of his leanness. They’re both staring at an endless row of onesies. Klaus is reaching out for the cat one.

Two + Four = Three? the headline reads. No mating mark, the first bullet point in the lower corner exclaims in a smaller font that manages to be no less glaring. Siblings or lovers? is the second. The third simply promises exclusive pictures. Said pictures are more candids of them wandering through the store, both the baby section and the freezer aisle. It all spans several pages right in the middle of the magazine.

Diego feels sick. Not at the implication that the baby is his — somehow, that doesn’t bother him at all, and he doesn’t dwell on what that means right now. No, the problem is that this will get back to their father.

Reginald was always on top of managing the Academy’s image, and this will be no different, especially with Luther still running missions for him. It will be child’s play for him to find them. Hell, he’s probably known where every single one of them was from the very moment they all left. He just never had a reason to wrangle ‘unruly children’ back where they refuse to be before.

He needs to tell Klaus.

Chapter Text

He makes it home as soon as he can, the restless energy stemming from Eudora’s news more than enough to shave a few minutes off his usual commute. The whole time, he thinks of ways to break it to Klaus. He could just come out and say it.

(It could be too much of a shock. Maybe it would even stress the baby out, which Diego can’t bear to risk.)

He could try to ease him into it.

(Klaus would see his efforts from a mile away and get suspicious, which, in turn, would only make him more anxious.)

But it doesn’t matter. Diego doesn’t get the chance to tell him.

At home — and that is what he thinks of it as, a cozy home of the two of them — Klaus is standing in the middle of the kitchen area with his head bowed and a piece of paper clutched in his hand. Even from the door, the insignia at the top is recognizable. It’s their father’s good stationary. The words are small, the handwriting tight and perfect, far more perfect than anything any of them were ever able to achieve, no matter how much Reginald frowned and shook his head. “How the fuck—”

“Tabloids,” Diego cuts in wearily. Neither of them are strangers to it, honestly. They should have thought of the possibility earlier, much earlier. Most of it nowadays is focused on Allison, of course, but it hasn’t stopped the papers from making a quick buck off of one of the rest of them during slow weeks. He walks over and eases the letter out of Klaus’ hand, replacing it with the rag Eudora showed him. “You know he still keeps up with everything.”

The letter is just as distant and bland as Diego expected. Their father never liked treating them like his children before, so why should it be different now? It’s an invitation to dinner at the Umbrella Academy for two days from now. There are phrases like “cordially invited” and “Mr.’s Two and Four Hargreeves” thrown in, and a familiar feeling of wounded anger rises high in his chest. He imagines their father must have penned it as soon as the mail arrived that morning. He probably sat in that stuffy study of his with a blank face and a fountain pen, pristine inkwell by his side, to get it out in enough time for Pogo to arrange for delivery the same day. It’s also a confirmation that Reginald knew exactly where to find both of them. His jaw aches, his teeth grinding.

There’s a flutter and splat. Klaus threw the tabloid across the boiler room.

Diego glances at it and decides to leave it. Sidling up to his brother, he wraps an arm around him and holds him close to his side. Klaus’ hair brushes up against his neck when he rests his head on Diego’s shoulder. “How about we say fuck it? Fuck him.”

Klaus sighs loud and long. “And his dinner.”

Except the next morning, Klaus is up before Diego. His hand idly smoothes over Diego’s short hair. He’s quiet, uncharacteristically so, but the weight of his thoughts in the air make up for it.

The alarm goes off. Diego reaches over to turn it off and catches his open eyes. “Baby wake you up?” He knows the real answer even before the words are even out.

“What if we go?” Klaus turns under the blanket, under the alpha’s arm.

“You want to go back,” Diego says flatly.

“Go back, eat free food, and tell him to fuck off to his face,” Klaus counters. He’s so close their noses brush. “Don’t tell me you don’t miss Mom.” Although he doesn’t look happy, there’s a teasing edge to his bitter smile.

Diego rolls his eyes, but it’s true. Back when he finally left the Academy for good, he asked Grace if she would come with him — if she wanted to be free.

(She smiled at him then. Smiled and asked what he was talking about, called him silly and told him to come back to visit sometimes.

He never planned to while Reginald still lived.)

“I’m not sure it’s worth it,” Diego says, despite already knowing he’ll end up going. For Grace. For Klaus.

Klaus shrugs and brushes his messy hair out of his own eyes. “You know Daddy Dearest. It’ll be a miracle if this is the end of it.”

Diego isn’t so sure of that. Part of him is convinced Reginald’s interest will be gone again as soon as they disappoint him, which is inevitable going by their childhoods. “Okay.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of going, are you?” The look on Ben’s face is mostly incredulous, but there’s a touch of fear there.

Klaus understands that. “Well,” he drawls, picking another grape out of the crinkly plastic bag and popping it in his mouth, “tell me how you really feel, Ben.” His delivery isn’t as smooth as he would have hoped. His nerves are high. His free hand is firmly placed on his bump and hasn’t left it since Diego headed out that morning.

Ben looks wholly unimpressed, the fear slipping away.

(Mission: success.)

“If you’re asking, sure,” he snarks. “This is a big mistake. You realize this is the first time any of us have had kids, right? You know he’s not planning on congratulating you.”

He doesn’t have to voice what’s likely going through Reginald’s head. Klaus remembers the trainings, the coldness and distance that characterized their father, the way nothing they ever did could be good enough. They weren’t children to him. They were experiments. Tools. No one knows if any of their children will inherit their powers. He hopes his won’t, if only so that Reginald has no interest in them.

(He’s often wished his power was different.

He’s never wanted Allison's more than right now.)

“Klaus.”

“Do you think I want to go?” he says, and it comes out a bit like a whine. Fuck if he wants to go back there. He’d be happy to never see their father again, especially with his own impending parenthood on his brain. There’s absolutely nothing about the swell of his stomach or his fondness for the little troll within that is making him feel nostalgic for those days.

Ben shakes his head.

The snoring against his neck would be endearing most other days. It’s silly that he loves it, actually. If you’d told Klaus years ago that he’d love the way someone snores, he would have assumed he’d gotten into some good shit, but it’s true. There’s something about Diego’s snoring that soothes him.

Today, though, it does nothing but keep him awake. In less than twelve hours, they’ll be back in their childhood home. Back under Reginald’s gaze.

Diego groans as his alarm sounds. He leans more on Klaus to reach over and shut it off. His nose is still tucked in the crook of his neck. Usually, he’s up and out of bed within a few minutes. He doesn’t move today.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Klaus says flippantly, lying there and staring at the ceiling. His stomach is churning. He’s not sure if it’s just his nerves or if the baby is picking up on it, too.

That gets Diego to shift. He looks at the omega with alert eyes. “We’ll go in, say hi to Mom, eat, and then tell him to fuck off.” Reaching up, he brushes a piece of Klaus’ wild hair behind his ear.

Neither of them talk about it.

The Academy is imposing. Impersonal. Tall, gray, unwelcoming — and really, Klaus could stand here coming up with unflattering adjectives all day, except their mom is opening the door now, a grand grin on her face.

“Diego,” she calls out, “Klaus! Welcome home. We expected you to be late.” Her dress is impeccable and her apron crisp and clean. She pulls them in for a hug one after the other, her smile unfaltering. “Unfortunately, your brother was called away on a mission this morning. May I?” she says as she steps away from Klaus.

He debates it for a moment, because he hasn’t let many people touch his bump. He takes his hand away from his stomach, already missing the softness of Diego’s worn sweater, and gestures towards it a touch stiffly. “Of course, Mutti.”

(Ben watches from his side with a pained frown. There will be no hugs for him.)

For all that Grace is made of wires and metal, for all that she’s been programmed by Reginald and works on his orders, she understands the intricacies of emotion more than her creator ever did. Her touch is light, brief. Her eyes light up, and her grin softens. She gives him space as soon as she’s done, clasping her hands in front of herself with a nod. “Dinner will be ready in fourteen minutes and fifty seconds. Your father will expect you in the dining room in ten. Oh, and boys?” She looks at the two of them fondly. “Congratulations. I knew you two would be wonderful together.” If she were human, there might be tears in her eyes.

Klaus opens his mouth to explain it’s not his and Diego’s baby, but the alpha squeezes his hand, shaking his head. Not here. Not on the sidewalk. Not when their mother is so happy.

And so they follow her through the entrance hall. They could go to the dining room. They certainly know where it is, but Klaus tugs Diego up the stairs by their still-entwined hands. They bypass rooms best left closed to get to Klaus’. Inside, there are all sorts of words and symbols carved into the baseboards and dresser. The walls are covered in his childish scrawl. He drops down onto the perfectly made bed and settles criss cross applesauce, unintentionally highlighting his bump. It creaks under the sudden weight.

Ben sits at his side without a sound.

Diego scans the walls, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know how I forgot about — this.”

“Wish I could say the same, Di.” Klaus points at the baseboard right next to his dresser. “I think I have a stash there.” He’d had to get creative in the last year or so of living here. False drawers, pried up boards, bags taped to the bottom of his mattress. Some are still there, too. Reginald hadn’t exactly given him all the time in the world to pack his things once he declared he was leaving.

Diego crouches down and tugs at it until it comes away from the wall. Inside, dusty and clouded, is a single plastic baggie with three small pills. He clutches it in his fist. “I’m flushing this,” he says bluntly. “You have any other surprises here?”

He does. Klaus points them out one by one, ignoring the approving looks he gets from Ben. It hurts to get rid of them, fuck does it, but he knows it’s the only way he’s walking out of here without something burning a hole in his pocket.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Ben reminds him. He rests his hand on the bed between them, a silent comfort.

(It helps.)

The table is set for three. Reginald sits at the head, as usual. A very familiar phonograph is on a small table a foot away. The seats on either side of him have plates and silverware and a napkin each. He looks up at them blankly.

It’s like being a child again.

Klaus hates it.

“Number Two,” their father says slowly, focusing on Diego. He stalls and then turns to Klaus. “Number Four.”

“Number Six,” Ben mutters in a stuffy voice.

If only it could make Klaus laugh now. “Number names went out of fashion oh, about a million years ago, Dad.”

As expected, all it gets him is a stern frown. “Sit.”

They do. Reluctantly.

Diego shares a glance with Klaus. “Why’d you invite us?”

“There will be no discussion at the dinner table, Number Two.” With familiar movements, Reginald sets the phonograph to play, and the sounds of war strategy fill the room just as Grace returns with three plates of steaming hot food. He tucks in once all of them have been served.

No one talks. Even Ben is quiet, pale while he looks around the room.

It’s eerily like it was years back. Klaus hates that he has to double check he’s not wearing his old uniform, though the sight of Diego’s sweater stretched across his stomach manages to give him a mental boost. He focuses on eating Grace’s food. Her cooking was, in a lot of ways, the most homey of anything in this wretched place, and while he has no problem eating the things Diego cooks, it’s nice to have something made as well as their mother could.

Dinner drags and drags until, suddenly, it’s over. Reginald strides off to his study without a word, expecting them to fall in line the way he always had before.

Klaus grits his teeth and leans into Diego as they do.

“The baby isn’t Diego’s,” Klaus says, cutting off their father, and Diego feels a pang of hurt in his chest even though it’s tempered by the omega loosely pressed up against his side.

It’s the truth. The baby isn’t his, not by blood. He shouldn’t feel hurt. Diego stomps down on the feeling, focusing on the downturn of Reginald’s lips.

“Then the chances of your child having powers is lessened, of course, but not null. We shall have to track down the alpha for his records.” Reginald jots something down in his notebook. “Number Four, I will have your room prepared. Number Two, you are free to crawl back to your boiler room. Grace and I will monitor the rest of the pregnancy.”

Diego’s jaw hurts from how hard he clenches his teeth. “N-no,” he says, and, despite the stutter, his voice has never felt steadier. “C’mon, Klaus, we’re leaving.”

The protest seems to startle their father for a moment. Just long enough, in fact, for Klaus to take Diego’s arm and turn heel. “What he said,” he calls out as they leave, “Asshole.”

Somehow, it feels even better than moving out had.

Chapter Text

“Your cereal is getting soggy,” Ben says from the floor. He’s got one knee bent, foot flat on the floor, the other leg resting on top of it.

Klaus reaches over and prods his generic brand Cheerios with the spoon, and, sure enough, one of them disintegrates into the milk. He shrugs. He’s eaten much worse. Picking up the bowl and tucking the handle of the spoon under his thumb, he downs the rest of it, soggy cereal hoops and all. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

And then his attention is back to where it was — his stomach. More specifically, he’s been staring at his belly button, which, at some point over the last two weeks, has apparently gone from an innie to an outie. He pokes it. Yup, still an outie. Does this mean he’s officially popped? Though he’s been showing for a while.

As if feeling the poke, his little troll doll shifts. That’s been happening a lot more, too. He can feel them moving around throughout the day, just a small movement here and there, but it’s constantly got his attention. (Diego is jealous, too. None of it can be felt from the outside yet. Klaus has maybe gotten used to teasing him about it.)

The not so great side effect of it all is the back pain. His feet are widening, too, but he loves walking around barefoot, so it’s no big deal. Still, he’s only at twenty-two weeks, and he doesn’t even want to know how heavy the kid will be by the end of the whole ordeal. It could be an excuse to spend more time in bed, true. For some reason, though, he’s enjoying hanging out around the gym during the day.

Which is why, as soon as he can pull himself away from staring at his new outie, Klaus pulls on some loose pants and one of Diego’s sweaters — to cover the belly button he knows he’ll end up staring at otherwise — and wanders out to the main floor. He sits on his exercise ball and winks at Al.

The gym is pretty full this morning. The usual crowd is there, Al in the ring with one of his students, a bunch of muscled men lifting weights and grunting off to the side, the old exercise bikes in the corner all occupied. One guy drenched in sweat walks past him with a towel on his shoulder and grunts a good morning. He’s one of the more talkative regulars.

Comfortable, Klaus starts some lazy stretches Diego’s research swears will help with his back pain. He stops paying attention to the world around him. He doesn’t have any classes or anything today, and even Ben is off doing whatever it is he does when he doesn’t feel like being glued together for the day.

“Hey, Pretty.”

Klaus finishes his stretch on his own time. When he does straighten out, he’s prepared to tell off another aggressive new alpha customer, because this has happened once or twice. Most likely, a few of the regulars and Al himself are already getting ready to step in. He looks the alpha in the eye with the most unimpressed look he has under his belt.

But —

He knows this man. His stomach churns. He doesn’t need Ben to confirm just who this is. Tall, dark hair, a sharp jaw, and familiar cruel eyes, all dressed in a ragged t-shirt and basketball shorts. The clothes are different. (There were no clothes.) The rest is not.

The alpha smirks and gives him a once over, lingering on the curve of his bump beneath the cheap knit. “How about we go somewhere just the three of us?” There’s something awful about that look.

Something similar to what Klaus has seen so many times in the past and ignored for the promise of another high, but now? Now he shakes his head. If he goes anywhere with this guy, there’s no saying what he would agree to. He’s safe here. “No can do, Steve-o,” he drawls, not at all remembering the jerk’s name and hoping he’s way off base. “I’m on the clock.”

The alpha’s expression tightens. He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of Klaus’ growing hair behind his ear in a way that is most definitely engineered to make the omega feel small. “You free after work, baby?”

Klaus cocks his head, trying to brush off the slimy touch. “I think I have an opening two days past never.”

“Then we’ll talk here,” the alpha says lowly. “I saw you in the papers. We had a lot of fun while you were in heat, but I’m not goin’ to be responsible for any brats. Get rid of it.”

From the corner of his eye, Klaus can see Al ducking under the ropes of the boxing ring, which is garnering the attention of even the more focused customers. “I never said my troll was yours.” (He knows the baby is. He’s known it from the moment he caught sight of the guy’s face, little bits of memory smacking into him from beyond the haze of heat and drugs. There’s only one person he fucked around with during his last cycle.) Klaus leans in as if to tell a secret, fake sympathy in his eyes. “Aw, did you think you popped my cherry?”

The alpha’s face is red, his jaw clenched and his brow visibly furrowed. “Fine.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a small clear bag with a spoon and a lighter and —

Klaus forces himself to focus on the guy’s face. He’s done so fucking well so far. He flushed the drugs he still had on him when he got to the gym. He told Diego where every single one of his stashes were back in his old room. He’s stayed away from all of his dealers and haunts. He can’t do this now.

(He wants to. Fuck.)

“C’mon,” the alpha says, shaking the bag in his face. “You know you want to. One hit, and you’ll feel all better. We can talk after.”

Al claps a hand on the guy’s shoulder just as Klaus lashes out and punches the asshole. It serves to steady him, though neither Al nor the gathering regulars who followed him over give the alpha a chance to really get his footing back before they’re pushing him out through the exit to fall flat on his ass.

Klaus cradles his sore hand, swearing. Suddenly, he really, really needs to be curled up in his and Diego’s blanket. Needs to be surrounded by their combined scents.

So he closes himself off in the boiler room.

Getting pulled aside by Al the moment he walks in the door isn’t exactly odd anymore. If it’s not about fixing something around the gym, it’s an update on how Klaus was during the day.

What Diego isn’t expecting is to hear that Klaus’ baby daddy showed up. His chest tightens the moment Al mentions it. He knows there was nothing serious between his brother and the alpha he spent his heat with — in fact, he knows Klaus didn’t even remember the guy’s face. It’s unlikely someone who took advantage of an omega like that would be coming around to offer any sort of help, so he shouldn’t be afraid of losing his brother and the baby, but fuck. That’s definitely at the core of the tension in his body.

And then Al explains what happened.

Diego’s pulse echoes in his ears. His infamous temper is skyrocketing, way past the boiling point already.

(He remembers Klaus.)

Taking a deep breath, Diego pushes it down until he’s only lightly grinding his teeth together. “What did he look like?”

Klaus is in a nest. Diego barely needs to look at what’s become their cot to know it isn’t laundry day. The omega is sprawled in a heap of their combined clothes, the blanket half-draped over him. He looks like he’s asleep.

“Evening,” comes from the nest.

Diego kicks his shoes off and tugs on more comfortable clothes. It means he has to pull a shirt from under Klaus’ leg, which gets him a little protest, but he quiets it by climbing into the nest with him once he’s out of his uniform. “Al told me what happened today,” he says, brushing the growing hair away from the omega’s face. Something about getting a cut is on the tip of his tongue, but he lets it fade there. He likes how long Klaus’ hair is getting.

There’s a soft huff. “It was nothing.” Klaus waves his hand flippantly.

Clearly, it wasn’t. Diego doesn’t point that out, though. He just pulls the blanket up over his brother’s shoulders and settles in for a nap. There are so many things he wants to say, to ask. The anger is still there, and it’s much more an all encompassing fury. Stress, he reminds himself, is not good for the baby. He can’t afford to let it out right now in front of Klaus.

(He can’t bottle it up, either.)

It takes an hour for Klaus to relax. The slow drip of drool down his chin is evidence of how deep his sleep is.

Diego carefully slips out of the nest. He puts a dark jacket on, zipping it up and pulling the mask he bought nearly a year ago on a whim out of the pocket. It was only used once. The police academy would never accept this, and so he’d tucked it aside as he forced himself to stay on track. He’s doing well, now.

But one night won’t hurt.

It isn’t difficult to find him. For all that Klaus was a wanderer, he had specific spots he always went back to, and Diego knows most of them. He darts from shadow to shadow, barely needing to hide from the groups of junkies high out of their mind. Criticisms of his technique flit through his mind in a voice suspiciously like that of his father’s, but they’re drowned out as soon as he finds a man that matches the description Al gave him.

He doesn’t strike. He stills. He watches. His hand aches from how tightly it’s clenched.

The alpha in his sights lights a joint for a skinny omega, her hands shaking as she takes her first drag. “The rest will kick in soon,” the alpha assures her. He plucks the joint out of her grip and sticks it between his own lips. “Only the first drag’s free tonight.”

She’s upset. Her face falls, and she pats her pockets with a growing look of despair.

Diego waits until she leaves, trying not to imagine Klaus in her place. (It wouldn’t be hard. He’s seen him low before.) He makes sure his mask is firmly in place. His boots thud against the asphalt of the alley.

The alpha turns around, joint still in hand. His mouth is open, as if he’s about to say something, but the rest of his face is bewildered.

Diego doesn’t falter. He stalks forward.

“Wha—” The back of the alpha’s head slams into the side of the brick building with a satisfying little crack. His joint falls to the ground where it’s trampled under their feet.

“You’re going to leave him alone,” Diego growls in his face.

The alpha spits at him. “Who?”

Diego hauls him a few inches away from the wall only to shove him back against it. “Klaus.” He wipes the spit off his cheek and smears it over the alpha’s shirt. “He’s my omega, and that baby? Mine, too. Contact him again, and I’ll be back.”

Something nasty comes over the alpha’s face then.

It’s okay — Diego’s temper is still heightened. He throws him to the ground hard enough to daze him, and it feels oh so satisfying.

By the time the alpha manages to get to his feet, he’s alone in the alley.

Diego holds his breath as he slips back into the boiler room.

Klaus is still in their nest. Still drooling.

His shoulders slump with relief. He takes off his boots and jacket, stuffing the mask back where it was, and climbs back into bed.

Almost immediately, the omega throws an arm over him and clings to him in his sleep.

Diego leans into him and closes his eyes. He wasn’t lying earlier, and it’s time he’s acknowledged it. No matter if they never cross the line into something much less platonic, his instincts have considered Klaus and the baby his for a while now.

He’s not going to let anything happen to them.

Chapter Text

Klaus stretches and whines, because he really, really doesn’t want to get out of bed.

Problem is, his baby is clearly a morning person. Not even out of the womb and they’re already committing crimes. (No, Ben, it’s not right to be wake with the sun, and yes, maybe he’s a little proud of his little criminal. In a weird way. He’s trying not to think about it too hard.)

“They awake?” Diego murmurs, a hint of sleep on the edge of his words. His hand slides over and conforms to the swell between them. It’s a warm weight.

Comforting. Klaus doesn’t mind when Diego does this, not at all. “Unfortunately.”

The baby kicks as if to dispute that.

And, of course, Diego’s face lights up. The sleep slips away. His thumb moves gently across the smooth skin. “Hey,” he says as he shifts down the cot a bit.

This is a newer development. The kicks still feel fairly faint from the outside, but Diego picks up on them every single time, and the baby loves to kick around him. It probably doesn’t help that they can hear his and Klaus’ voices. Diego told him that a few nights back, when they were still curled up in bed on one of his days off. Lying around is a luxury for him now with how close he is to finishing the academy. Just a few more weeks, and he’ll be on the force.

(Klaus can’t wait until he gets the uniform.)

The one thing Diego always makes time for is the baby. He’s even more prone to getting mushy around Klaus now, to the point where Ben can’t hold back on the faces. Klaus, in turn, often ends up giggling.

For some reason, it doesn’t bother Diego too much. “Your daddy’s a silly man,” he’s taken to saying. It’s always dry but never annoyed.

Klaus hates how mushy that makes him. He hates how much he’s been craving Diego’s scent. How he misses him during the short hours he’s away. Klaus has had crushes before, but, as Ben has unhelpfully pointed out more than once (in a quietly proud way), he’s never stuck around in one place this long before either. He likes it in this boiler room with the alpha who probably would make a yucky face at the very thought of them being together.

Which hasn’t stopped Klaus from getting horribly horny at the thought of him. There’s no doubt about it at this point, either. He’s definitely hot for his brother. Maybe he and Allison have even more in common than he thought. (Strike that. Luther still does nothing for him.)

Ben gives him a look from across the room.

Klaus sticks his tongue out at him.

Diego’s still smiling goofily at his stomach.

His alarm goes off, startling all of the living inhabitants of the room.

There’s a flurry of activity then. The baby shifts and squirms. Klaus scrambles back on the cot. Diego practically falls out to grab for his uniform, tugging his pants up and shoving his feet into his shoes.

Before the door shuts behind him, he swings his bag over his shoulder and looks back at the omega with an awkward expression. “Hey, the book said something about doing kegels —” He says the word oddly, like he doesn’t know quite how to say it and was afraid to ask anyone.

Klaus winks at him and hopes it comes off as casual as it used to. “Oh, kegels and I are old friends, don’t you worry.”

It’s unlikely he managed it if the way Ben snorts is any indication. At least it’s the truth. He does know what kegels are, and hey, it’ll give him something to do other than dwelling on the clusterfuck that is his life right now.

(Fuck does he wish he could take something right now. Even just a bit of pot would be a nice distraction.)

He falls back to the cot as soon as Diego leaves. His first impulse is to stay there. To just ignore the world for a while. Instead, he gets up and pulls on something approaching decent so that Al doesn’t get red in the face when he wanders out. He pads out of the room, weaving between exercise machines and weights and mats until he gets to the front desk. There’s a fresh stack of newspapers there. He eases one out with a loud aha.

Ben trails behind him. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you go for the news.”

“Not the news,” Klaus says, waving one hand while he flips through with the other. “Don’t they have jobs in the backs of these?” Before he can get an answer, he finds the classifieds. He folds the paper over there and stuffs it under his arm. He sing-songs a good morning to Al as he passes him on the way back to the boiler room.

“That’s… surprisingly logical of you.” There’s a beat of silence as Ben no doubt processes it. “Wait, Klaus, you know you’re probably not going to be able to be on your feet much in a few months, right?”

Klaus waves that off, too. He drops down on the couch and digs a pencil out from between the cushions. “Then I’ll just have to find something off my feet, now won’t I?”

“Or you could wait.” Ben sits next to him. His expression is full of suspicion, his brow slightly furrowed in a familiar way, a sign that he’s slowly piecing together just what his erratic brother has planned.

“If I wait,” Klaus drawls, “I won’t have a nest egg. You were always better with numbers, Benny. You probably have a good idea of how much an apartment costs.”

Ben’s frown deepens. “You have a place to stay. Here.”

The sigh Klaus lets out is long and loud and so exasperated. “Look, soon Di will realize I’ve outstayed my welcome.” He circles a listing in the paper. “And with my little troll on the way, I can’t go be the old me anymore.” His voice is wistful but not as much as even he expected it would be.

He really doesn’t miss the streets. The dealers, the pimps, the couch surfing.

Ben’s jaw tightens as he glances over his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have experience in management.”

“It can’t be that hard to fake,” Klaus says flippantly.

“It would be easier to stay here with Diego.”

Klaus pokes the pencil up by his face, not touching him for obvious reasons, and opens his mouth to protest again, but the words die quickly, because —

Because Ben pushed it aside.

They both stare at the pencil. It’s still in Klaus’ hand, and there’s no goo on it or anything you could have expected from watching the movies.

Ben reaches out to touch it again. His fingers slip right through it. “That did happen, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Klaus murmurs.

Ben swallows. “We’re testing this later, but right now you need to promise me you’ll talk to Diego.”

(No such promise comes, of course.)

If there’s one thing Diego can really appreciate about Eudora, it’s that she’s not into making a big deal out of things. He readjusts his hand on the big black trash bag and enters the gym. Pieces clang around inside, but he ignores it. The crib is used, which he doesn’t mind, and free, which he’s stupidly grateful for after seeing some of the prices at the store. Who cares if it needs some assembly? Eudora said her sister assured her it was easy enough. She wasn’t planning on any more kids, so it was just taking up space in her closet. She wouldn’t get much for it from a yard sale, either. It’s a little beat up. A little well loved. They’ll need a new mattress for it, but that’s okay.

Diego has a feeling Klaus will appreciate the glittery stickers her eldest had slapped on the legs of it.

Al grunts at him as he passes. He spares a glance for the bag.

“Baby stuff,” Diego calls out on his way to the boiler room.

Inside, Klaus is sprawled along the couch with a plate of hot pockets on his chest. The one with a few bites in it is oozing yellow cheese, a small sliver of ham half on the plate. “What’s in the bag?” He rubs the back of his hand across his mouth.

Diego can’t believe he loves this omega. (His chest is warm at the sight.) He kicks off his shoes. “A crib for the little one.”

The room is quiet. The thud of the bag touching the ground, leaning against the wall, disturbs it.

Diego looks over at him. Klaus is staring at him. The alpha shifts nervously. “What?”

“A crib?” There’s a heavy dose of incredulity in Klaus’ voice.

His heart sinks, and he’s suddenly aware that, oh yeah, he never actually talked anything through with the omega. He just sort of… accepted that Klaus would stay. That they’d raise the baby together even if nothing else changed between them. That they’d continue the way they have for so many weeks now. “Yeah,” he forces past the lump in his throat. “A crib. For the baby.”

Maybe he can convince Klaus to stick around at least until the baby is born, until he’s on his feet. (He doesn’t want to imagine how empty the boiler room will feel.)

Klaus puts his hot pockets on the floor and pushes himself up to a sitting position. “You want us to stay?”

Diego takes a few hesitant steps forward. He nods a little too quick. “Of course.”

In the past, Klaus would take what he could get. He wouldn’t mention leaving until he was kicked out. Now, he doesn’t let it go. “Why?”

“I want you here,” Diego says, wincing when his voice cracks. He shakes it off. “You and the baby.”

Getting up off the couch, Klaus crawls into bed and doesn’t say a word. A moment passes. He pokes his head up and beckons with a lazy hand. “Get over here, Di.”

Diego does, numbly. He slots into the nest in his academy uniform. He lets the omega get close enough for their noses to touch. He lets him cup the back of his neck with a warm, tattooed palm.

“If I’m wrong about this — and I’m starting to think I’m not — don’t get weird on me,” Klaus says just before bringing their lips together for a kiss. It’s uncoordinated at that angle. Unreciprocated for a few seconds. A bit dry.

Diego thinks it’s perfect. He moans into it, deepens it. He holds Klaus close the way he’s often thought of in the mornings on this cot. He holds him the way he would a mate.

When they break apart, Klaus gives him a satisfied smile. “I can’t say I ever thought you’d be a good kisser.”

Diego snorts and flicks his nose. “I’m a great kisser.”

“Mmhm.” The growing mess of Klaus’ hair brushes against his forehead at the omega curls up against him.

But as nice as it all is, Diego can’t help but notice they didn’t actually talk. “So.”

“So?”

“What is this?” A year ago, Diego would have guessed Klaus might be messing with him. He’s not so sure now. All of those flighty bits of his brother he’s seen over the years have calmed down. This is the longest solid period the two of them have been in contact since the Academy.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” Klaus says and then pauses. “Scratch that. I don’t do that with you.” Another pause. “I don’t fuck where I eat when I’m with you.” A third pause. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, brother dear.”

Diego doesn’t plan on telling him about the fluttering in his chest. “Then it’s settled. We’re dating.” It feels weird to say aloud.

But really, he’s sure most people already think they are. The tabloids certainly do. Their father and mom both thought so. He knows most of the gym’s regulars assume Klaus is his.

At the core of it, it feels right.

“I expect wooing,” Klaus announces.

Chapter Text

The kissing comes easily. Annoyingly easy, if you ask Ben, who is genuinely happy they’ve sorted their shit out but has no interest in watching his brothers make out.

And they do. Frequently. Klaus kept Diego in bed for a while for lazy cuddles and kisses. After dinner, Diego was the one who initiated it, and it went on like that now and then until they curled up in their nest and slept.

Ben averts his eyes and clears his throat as loudly as possible when it starts up again as soon as they’re both awake. He’s pretty sure it’s a mix of Klaus’ self-imposed dry spell, his pregnancy hormones, and Diego’s need to prove he is, indeed, a great kisser that’s kept them at it like this. He understands all of that. He still doesn’t want to see it.

He also doesn’t want to leave the boiler room right now. Especially now that they’ve taken this step, he has things he needs to discuss with Klaus — things he doesn’t want to push off any longer. As soon as the omega is alone, he’ll put his cards on the table.

Diego’s alarm goes off.

Neither of them notice.

“He’s going to be late,” Ben calls out, still not looking. “And Al will stop by if it doesn’t shut up.”

Klaus huffs as he pulls back. He slaps the alarm, thankfully shutting off the shrill noise. “I suppose you should go,” he says reluctantly. (He hasn’t let go of him.)

Diego is conflicted. Or, at least, Ben assumes he is based on the silence that follows. He does get out of bed eventually, and the shuffling sounds of him tugging on his clothes fill the room. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promises as if they hadn’t already agreed to go on a date that evening.

Then he’s gone.

Ben turns around to look at Klaus. “You need to tell him about me.” He’s tried to give Klaus space about this, because of course he remembers every single time one of their siblings yelled at Klaus to stop lying about this. It hurt his brother and it hurt him, and he honestly did stop asking him to try after a while.

But things are different now.

“Not yet,” Klaus immediately insists.

“I moved the pencil yesterday,” Ben fires back. “You’re planning on staying here now. If you don’t tell him, we’ll never be able to talk the way we used to!”

No more jokes when Diego’s around.

No more air hugs.

No more Klaus&Ben&Ben&Klaus.

For all that his brother can be unobservant, both on purpose and not, it’s obvious that Klaus reads between the lines this time. The fear on his face softens into something more sad, more morose. All they’ve had for years is each other. Neither of them know for sure why Ben has stuck around as long as he has, but the fact is Klaus is what keeps him from wandering aimlessly.

Even so, the omega hesitates. “I can’t lose this, Ben.” There’s nothing carefree or whimsical about him right now. His eyes water. “I can’t lose you.”

Ben takes a deep, unnecessary breath. He knows Diego will listen. He’s sure of it. (He thinks Diego will. This time.) He just can’t lose Klaus, either. “Just promise me you’ll think about it more seriously.”

Klaus scratches at his head, the tips of his fingers disappearing under too-long strands of hair. His brow is tense. “Before my troll is born,” he promises eventually. “I’ll give you an answer.”

“You know they’re the size of a Mr. Potato Head now, right?” Ben remembers that from Diego’s weekly baby facts.

Klaus waves it off. “Nah.” The troll doll Diego bought him is cradled in the corner of the couch. “They’re my troll.”

“Thank you.” Ben sits on the bed next to him, close but unable to touch.

The thing is, Diego hasn’t been on a date in a long time. He’s never thought about wooing. There were always so many other things to focus on after he finally left the Academy, and before? His father wasn’t interested in letting them date. It was training or fighting or studying if they weren’t asleep or eating. He’s been on a few, though. Just a few. Most of them didn’t lead to a second date, mostly because of a horrible awkwardness Diego couldn’t stand.

After all, it was unlikely he was going to find anyone who understood his childhood and the way it shaped him.

(Except Klaus, apparently.)

“Did he not like the crib?” Eudora’s voice is calm, curious and not at all angry.

He blinks up at her from his sandwich.

“The crib?” she says again. She kicks his shin lightly. “The one I brought in for you yesterday?”

“He liked it.” Truthfully, Klaus didn’t even see it. Just the bag, actually, and it didn’t help that Diego spent much too much time in bed this morning to even think about showing it off before he was out the door.

Her eyebrow arches up in one smooth motion.

“We were distracted,” he grumbles before taking another bite. He can barely tamp down on the smile that surfaces when he remembers why.

“You’re going to have to introduce us at some point,” she says with a chuckle. “You’re a whole other person now, you know?”

He is. He knows Five would have called him thick, and even Diego knows he was never the most quick witted of his family, but he has to agree. He’s calmer. Happier. Less restless. “I’m not sure about putting you two in a room together.”

(When he thinks of all the embarrassing stories Klaus could tell, he’s doubly unsure.)

She shrugs. “We’ll see.” Cracking her bottle of water open, she observes him, the weight of her gaze plain.

“What?” He puts his sandwich down. He’s not too hungry really, not with everything on his mind.

“You’re thinking. Hard.” Eudora takes a quick sip and picks up a baby carrot to gnaw on.

Leaning back in his seat, he considers telling her. It sounds so stupid when he thinks about it, but, if he’s being honest, she’s his best friend. You’re supposed to tell your best friend these things, right? “I need date ideas,” he admits. “For tonight.”

“Cutting it close,” she says with a low whistle. “What about a nice dinner? Maybe a movie, too.” She pulls another carrot out of her bag. “You know him better than I do.”

It’s true, sure. It doesn’t help him much. He’s been in a low grade panic about it for hours now, and any idea of what Klaus might like has long since snuck away from him.

Dinner, though. Dinner sounds doable.

When Diego gets home and tells him they’re going out for dinner, Klaus has very little idea of what to expect. Nothing super fancy, of course, since neither of them has tons of money, but his brother makes it sound like it means something, so he picks out the nicest of his secondhand clothes. He tugs on one of Diego’s roomiest sweaters. He grabs a flowy black skirt, too, one the alpha brought him from the thrift store after he complained about how ill-fitting some of the maternity pants were. His beat up sneakers still fit. They’re getting a little tight.

There’s no one in the locker room while he observes himself in the mirrors, tugging at his growing hair until it looks artfully messed.

No one except Ben, who looks more lighthearted and amused than he has been in a while. “Do you even know where he’s taking you?”

“Nope.” His lips make a popping sound. The skirt and sweater do absolutely nothing to hide his bump. He’s still mostly skinny in his limbs, lanky and thin. His stomach curves out, stretching the bottom of the sweater and making the skirt a little shorter in the front than the back. It works for him.

Ben snorts. “I’ll make myself scarce then. See you later.”

Once he’s gone, Klaus wanders back to the boiler room where Diego is pulling his shoes on. He’s in a different sweater and some well worn black pants. It’s nothing special for him, which is okay. Klaus certainly enjoys the view.

And Diego enjoys his own. In a way. He stares a bit as he catches sight of the omega. His cheeks darken. He clears his throat. “R-ready?”

Klaus definitely is. There’s a pep in his step now, too. He links arms with his brother on the way out the door.

Their arms are still entwined as they enter the restaurant. The place itself isn’t anywhere near fancy, but Klaus recognizes it’s above Diego’s paygrade. The menus are laminated. The waitstaff have matching T-shirts to go with their black slacks. The lamps above each table are dim, casting an warm orange glow over couples and families alike.

A waitress meets them at a podium in the front of the restaurant. She smiles brightly. “Table for two? There’s a bit of a wait right now, but I should be able to seat you soon.”

Diego nods. He tugs Klaus over to one of the benches to the side.

Honestly, his back was starting to hurt. He spent a lot of time on his feet earlier picking the best outfit, and his troll is getting heavier. Dropping down and stretching out his legs, he leans on the alpha with an exaggerated sigh.

“You don’t mind waiting, right?” Diego wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him closer. There’s tension in his body despite the way the omega melts into him. “The little one’s not too hungry?”

“This is fabulous, Diego dear,” Klaus murmurs. It is. It’s sweet, really, and no one’s ever done anything like this for him before. “Real… relationshippy.”

This is how these things should be done. Right? His experiences mostly leaned more towards back alley blowjobs and the occasional grind under club lights. He has absolutely no idea how dates should work.

“Good.” Diego’s not sure what else to say. He’s happy. Giddy even, and he can feel the burn across his cheekbones.

It doesn’t help that Klaus smells wonderful tonight. His scent is light, full, smelling more and more healthy each day, more and more like baby, which makes Diego’s alpha instincts preen though he’s aware the kid isn’t his by blood. Even better, Klaus smells richer when they’re touching. Happier. It’s almost enough to make him forget their images are still being plastered across gossip rags, that their father is more than likely keeping an ear out for updates.

Still, he’s uncomfortable here. This isn’t him. It isn’t Klaus, either. He’s grateful for Eudora’s suggestions, but… “Let’s get out of here.”

Klaus is on his feet before Diego can shift. Somehow he’s still light-footed at six months along. “Ooh, an adventure?”

“An adventure,” Diego agrees. He knows the perfect place.

The excited clapping from the omega as they get close enough to see the sign confirms he was right.

Griddy’s Doughnuts beams at them across the parking lot. The sign is the same fluorescent strip he remembers.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” Klaus breathes out, eyes wide.

The food isn’t great, but Diego doesn’t care. They’ll eat a quick dinner and then order some donuts for old time’s sake, and it’ll be so much more them than the other place.

Griddy’s holds most of their best childhood memories. Even just being here again with his brother eases the tension in his shoulders.

They take their seats at a booth in the corner. It’s not the same table they often took over as kids, but that one is occupied, and Diego doesn’t care. It’s close enough. He doesn’t bother with the menu. They both know it by heart. Griddy’s hasn’t changed at all over the years.

A waitress in bright clothing comes over to take their orders on her little notepad. “Oh, you two are adorable,” she says, seeing them pressed up next to each other in the booth, Diego’s arm around Klaus. A few strands of her hair have escaped her bun and are tucked behind her ears. Her smile is genuine.

Klaus winks at her. “I try.”

Diego snorts, but the corners of his mouth are turned up. “What he means is he’ll have the mac and cheese.” He doesn’t even need to ask. Klaus always had the mac and cheese if they snuck out for something other than donuts. “I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich. And two milkshakes.”

“Mmm, mac and cheese,” Klaus sighs after she leaves. “You are excellent at wooing, Di.”

Feeling comfortable here, really comfortable, Diego turns his head and kisses him lightly. “Did you doubt me?”

Klaus smirks. “Why would I do that?”

Diego pokes his cheek. “Rude, Klaus.”

(By the time their waitress quietly drops off a plate of four donuts and two milkshake refills, a smile on her lips, Griddy’s is near empty.

Neither of them notice. Or care, too caught up in each other.)

Chapter Text

Klaus is sprawled out across the small cot, as usual.

Diego is pressed up against him, as usual. His hand cups the swell of the omega’s stomach, which has also become the norm in the last two weeks. Any hesitation he had about touching him went completely out the window after their first kiss. There’s a magnetism between them, something Klaus teases is the law of attraction, something that Diego doesn’t bother resisting anymore. Whether it’s a kiss or a brush of their shoulders or this, he allows himself to go through with it.

It certainly helps that Klaus is a tactile person. He loves touching Diego. He always has. Now, he’s almost insufferable about it.

(Diego is beginning to think insufferable might be his type.)

“You know, they can recognize voices now,” he murmurs between kisses along the hollow of Klaus’ neck. Someday, it might be the place where he sinks his teeth in. It might carry the sign of a bond between them. Diego wants it, wants it all, but Klaus… Someday.

Klaus slips a leg between his with a happy sigh. “So I should expect more belly time in my future?”

The flush burns across his cheeks, but he ignores it. Diego isn’t ashamed of how much he already loves this kid. Besides, it’s not like the omega sounded annoyed. “How many weeks do you have left?”

“I thought you’d know that,” Klaus teases.

Diego does. Fifteen more weeks would be perfect, would get them to a good, safe full term. It’s not likely, though. Not with their luck. Or Klaus’ past. Twelve weeks is his hope. Twelve weeks, and the baby won’t be considered preterm. “At least ten,” he throws out, trying not to think about it (and not succeeding). He scrapes his teeth against the omega’s pale, pale throat in just the way he’s discovered Klaus loves.

His alarm goes off, shrill and insistent.

One day, he’d love to use that knowledge for something more than lazy makeouts. One day. With a groan, Diego pulls himself from bed and tugs on his uniform. He’ll be finished with the academy before the baby comes unless they come very early, and it only makes him more determined to finish. He needs to graduate. He needs to get on the force. He needs to make more money than he manages as a janitor so that they can get into a more kid-friendly place. Somewhere their kid can grow up and run around and just be a kid.

Klaus rolls over into the warm space he vacated and screams into the pillow in frustration.

(That, too, has become the usual.)

“I’ll be back later,” Diego says as he ties his shoes.

“But I’m horny now,” Klaus shoots back, muffled by the pillow.

So is Diego. But he needs to leave. He reaches out to grab the omega’s hand and squeezes it.

There’s an answering squeeze.

Klaus spends the rest of the day pacing. Pacing and jerking off and generally being a bundle of frustration.

Most of the time, Ben has occupied himself elsewhere. He doesn’t want to be in the same room for any of it. He still pops by now and then, though, wanting to check in and make sure none of the local ghosts are bothering his brother. They haven’t been as much of a problem lately, and Ben has theories about that — theories he knows Klaus won’t want to hear right now. Might not want to hear ever, but they’ll have to talk about it sometime.

“He’ll be home soon,” Ben says from his place on the couch, staring at the ceiling as the omega wanders back and forth and back and forth, bare feet against the cold floor of the boiler room. All he’s wearing is a thin robe and panties.

Really, Diego can’t come home soon enough.

Klaus sighs loudly. He stretches, arching his back and resting a hand on his bump. “I’m bored. And horny.”

Ben gives him a flat look. “I hadn’t noticed.”

With a lazy wave, Klaus brushes the sarcasm off. “What time is it?”

“He’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Ben promises the both of them. He certainly hopes their brother won’t be late today.

Sure enough, barely twenty minutes passes before the door to the boiler room is opening, and Klaus is pressing Diego against the wall. Even as insistent as he is, there’s no way Di couldn’t push him away, so the way the alpha immediately melts into it, his arms rising to wrap around him, makes him feel extra sappy.

“Missed me?” Diego chuckles as soon as he can get some air.

Klaus hums and presses against him more firmly. His bump is in the way a bit, but he figures the intent still comes across.

The darkening of Di’s eyes confirms it.

“Okay, I’m out,” Ben groans behind them.

Klaus is fine with that. He’ll be back later. Once they calm down. The omega hitches his leg up on Diego’s thigh, smirking as the alpha adjusts his grip and pulls his other leg close to carry him like that.

And carry him he does. Diego holds his thighs tight as he wanders blindly to the cot, unimpeded by the weight of both Klaus and his baby. It’s clear he’s kept up with all of their training, and, for once, that’s a pleasant thought. He leans over to deposit Klaus. He hovers over him on the bed with palms pressed into the thin sheets and knees keeping his brother’s wide. He kisses him sloppy and long and —

There’s a knock at the door.

Diego drops his head to the space beside Klaus’ with a curse.

The knocking comes again.

Diego gets up, tugging his skewed clothes back into place.

Klaus pulls a pillow over his face and screams. Screams so much, in fact, that he only barely recognizes the sweet, soothing tones of their mother’s voice, which stops him straight away. He tosses the pillow to the side and sits up, not bothering to pull his robe closed.

A baffled Diego is waving Grace and Pogo inside the boiler room. He glances back at Klaus, and there’s a lot in his gaze.

Why are they here? Since when would their father let Grace visit her wayward children?

Her eyes shine as she catches sight of Klaus. She brushes the back of her skirt down as she sits on the edge of the cot next to him. “You’re glowing,” she says happily. “You and Diego must be so excited to be fathers.”

The alpha clears his throat awkwardly. “I am,” he says with flaming cheeks, even though it’s likely their father mentioned the baby not being his around her at least once since that disastrous dinner. Behind him, Pogo is quietly wheeling in a handful of boxes strapped to a hand truck.

Klaus feels a bit like swooning. It’s the hormones. Definitely the hormones. And maybe how adorable Di is.

“Oh!” Grace clasps his hands in hers. “I brought food for the baby. You need to eat well for the two of you.”

“Is all of it food?” Diego cuts in, staring at the boxes, still blindsided.

Their mother smiles serenely. “No, silly. Though I may have gone a little overboard.”

“Most of it is food,” Pogo confirms. He closes the door and rests both hands in his pockets.

Her smile doesn’t falter. It’s sweet, nostalgic. “I miss cooking for you children.”

Klaus knows that must be hitting Diego harder than him, but it still hits him. He’s gone years eating whatever scraps he could get his hands on (whenever he wasn’t so drugged up that his appetite straight out disappeared), and none of it could ever live up to the kinds of meals he had back at the Academy. His stomach rumbles just remembering.

It sets Grace into motion. She deftly opens one of the boxes on the top of the pile, pushing aside the insulated lining and pulling out a tupperware container of what proves to be chicken and rice, perfectly steamed broccoli on the side.

Klaus digs in right away, not caring that it’s cold. He shares a glance with Di over a big bite. A grain of rice sticks to the corner of his mouth.

“You can keep cooking for us,” the alpha offers. “And your grandkid.”

Their mother perks up. “A grandchild.” Her perfect teeth shine with the force of her smile.

“Speaking of the child,” Pogo says as he takes a step forward. “We also brought along some of your belongings from when you and your siblings were infants.” Slowly, he shifts a few of the boxes to get to the one on the bottom of the stack. He opens it and pulls out the item on the top. It’s a cream-colored blanket with a stark black border and the logo of the Umbrella Academy woven in the center in black. It’s small, square.

It’s a baby blanket.

“There are clothes and bottles, too,” Pogo continues.

The food sours in Klaus’ mouth. There’s something so bland, so Reginald about the blanket. He can’t imagine the clothes are much better. The bottles would be useful, sure, but the rest… he’s not sure he could use any of it with his troll.

Based on the look on Diego’s face, neither is he.

Klaus swallows his mouthful of rice thickly. “Thanks, but no thanks, Pogo, buddy.”

Pogo shifts slightly. His smile is small but present and fatherly nevertheless. “I’m aware you might have conflicted feelings about accepting these gifts, but I hope you give it more careful consideration before you dispose of them. No need to return them, either. We have no need of them at the Academy anymore.”

Diego nods stiffly.

Even Grace, who seems to be content to ignore the tension in the room, gives Pogo and smile. “Why don’t you wait for me in the car? I’ll say goodbye to these boys before we leave.”

Pogo leaves, thankfully.

“Let me help you put these away.” She opens the remaining food boxes and manages to fit every single tupperware into the small fridge. There’s even a bunch of bananas, which she sets on the counter with a flourish. She doesn’t give Diego time to help her between his shock and her speed.

Klaus fits the lid back on the half-eaten chicken and rice and holds it out to her as he leans against the alpha’s side.

Di wraps an arm around his side immediately. “Thanks, Mom,” he says a little thickly.

After slotting the passed container in beside the others, she tugs the pair of them into a strong hug. “It’s what mothers do. Take care of each other, dears.”

Then she’s gone.

There’s a part of Klaus that wants to tease Diego about the way his eyes are glistening, but mostly, he just wants to curl up with him. That visit was enough to destroy his libido (for now). Cuddles, though, are still on the menu.

(It’s a shame Ben missed her. His heart aches.)

“C’mon, Di,” he murmurs, tugging him over to the cot. “The troll wants cuddles.”

Diego doesn’t argue. He buries his face in Klaus’ shoulder. “We’re tossing it all, right?” His voice is muffled, his breath hot against the omega’s bare skin.

Running a soothing hand over his brother’s hair, Klaus hums. “Oh, that wasn’t even a question. We’re keeping the food, though.” His appetite is returning, actually. Or maybe he’s just used to eating more often. Not that he has any plans to get up right now. He flexes his feet and snuggles closer to the alpha.

That’s how Ben finds them — curled up on the cot, Diego’s face hidden and Klaus’ open and slack with sleep, a box of best-forgotten memories sitting by the door. He can’t pick through it. He can’t move the flaps to get a better look.

The glimpse he gets of black and cream is more than enough. He takes a deep breath and steps back from it, taking a seat on the couch and waiting for Klaus to be awake, to explain.

Chapter Text

They do go through the box in the end. None of it stays, but both of them were too curious to throw it out without at least looking first. It was everything Pogo promised — blankets, onesies, cloth diapers, and bottles, most of it with the uncomfortably familiar umbrella logo stamped somewhere in stark black. Each and every piece goes into one of the big black trash bags Al stocks for the gym. The bags find their places in the dumpster out back beneath others full of old, fraying towels and empty containers of cleaning supplies.

It’s been a week. Trash pickup day has come and gone.

“You know she’s probably passing information onto him,” Ben warns Klaus, who leans back against the counter as he cracks open another container of food Grace made for him. The logical part of him wants to protest the fact that they kept the food at all. The rest of him is just happy Klaus is eating something.

Klaus grimaces around a mouthful of mashed potatoes and shrugs. “Hey, at least we know it’s not poisoned!”

It’s true. Ben grits his teeth. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that their father would never purposefully do anything to harm the baby, not when he likely wants to study them and the development of any powers they may have inherited.

Plus, whatever Grace made has to be more nutritious than pizza bagels. Hell, Reginald might have ordered her to make it all extra nutritious. Anything to ensure the next generation of powers to study makes it.

“Besides,” Klaus says, shifting the broccoli around with his spoon, “you know she has a soft spot for Di.”

Ben shakes his head. “That won’t help if he reprograms her.”

Reginald has before. He wasn’t subtle about it, probably because he never saw a reason to. In his eyes, there was nothing wrong with it.

But Klaus is stubborn. “It’ll be fine, Benny boy.”

He loves Ben, he really does. And, truthfully, he knows Ben has seen him be an idiot too often to trust he’ll make the right decisions, which hurts like fuck, but well.

Klaus imagines there’s only so many times you can see someone trade a stranger a back alley blowjob for a few hits of coke before your respect for their choices diminishes a bit.

The difference now, however, is that there’s no wonderful high waiting for him at that end of this road. No matter how much he loves their mother, not being at least a little careful with her will always lead to going back to the hellhole he was supposed to call home. Back to their father, back to Reginald Hargreeves and his meticulous handwriting through notebook after notebook of observations. Back to the heavy weight of his disappointment, the cold edge of his words. Klaus can’t go back to that. He doesn’t want to and never will.

So he’ll be careful. Somewhat. He’ll accept the food, because Grace was programmed to make good, healthy food. He’ll accept her affection, because there really is something to being cared for, even if it is by an android. He’ll accept her company for himself, for his baby, and for Diego, who really is the more likely of the two of them to get in too deep with her.

He just won’t let dear old Dad get to him through her.

Klaus stretches, reaching for the ceiling and lifting up to the very tips of his toes. The edge of one of Di’s sweaters rises to expose some of his stomach, and he yawns.

He’s bored.

“The laundry’s overflowing,” Ben suggests, very unhelpfully. He knows Klaus hates trying to haul laundry around with his bump nowadays.

Instead of responding, Klaus lets his gaze drift over to the black trash bag propped up against the wall. He’s peeked inside once or twice, but neither he nor Di have bothered trying to put together the crib yet. Now’s as good a time as any, right? It has to be done soon enough.

The contents of the bag clatter to the ground, followed by the soft thud of Klaus dropping down to sit cross-legged in front of it all. There are screws, loose and rolling back and forth, smacking into each other. There are beams, some thicker than others. Two big panels with wooden bars are the biggest pieces. Clearly, they’re the sides. A small screwdriver falls out, too, and Klaus nabs it triumphantly.

...Only to realize there aren’t instructions in the bag. The crib probably came with them originally. Years and at least one baby down the line, they’ve gone poof.

Klaus shrugs. Not a big deal.

It can’t be that hard to figure out.

Before he even gets into the room, Diego knows something is up. He stalls at the door, his hand wrapped around the knob, as there’s another loud thud inside. His instincts are on high alert. He’s mentally figuring out the best way to get inside and be ready to attack.

And then the unmistakable sound of Klaus cursing drifts through the door. It’s not panicked or afraid.

It’s frustrated.

Diego opens the door.

Inside, the omega is surrounded by pieces of the crib Eudora gifted him. Most of them. There’s one right by Diego’s feet that he thinks might be a leg, but he’s not sure.

“Let’s get the troll a basket,” Klaus says cheerfully, though the way his eye twitch gives his mood away. “Like the one that guy went down the river in!”

Diego picks the leg up. “Moses?” He thinks. Maybe it was someone else. He never paid much attention to religious studies. (What little they learned from Grace.)

Either way, Klaus waves the name off. “Much too religious for us, Di.” He scratches his head, mussing up his already wild hair more. His face falls. “We don’t have a name yet. Fuck!”

“You’re only twenty-six weeks,” is Diego’s automatic response. He walks forward and nudges some of the pieces aside with his foot to make room. Their thighs brush as he settles down on the ground next to him. He eases the screwdriver out of Klaus’ hand. “We got this. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Klaus cackles.

Three hours. It takes three hours to finish the crib.

It would have taken longer, actually. Diego runs his fingers through Klaus’ hair and bites back a sigh. If he hadn’t gotten frustrated and called Eudora halfway through… if she hadn’t given him her sister’s number… if her sister hadn’t had a few minutes to run them through it, well, he doesn’t want to think about how long it would have taken to finish.

(Realistically, he might have ended up breaking it in his frustration. Klaus was ready to chuck the pieces through the window fifteen minutes in, and Diego’s not sure he would have stopped him if it kept going that way.)

But the crib is done. It’s up against the wall for now, and it needs a mattress and sheets, but it’s done. There’s even an attachment for a mobile.

Diego turns his head, his eyes slipping shut as he noses at Klaus’ temple, taking in the soft scent of him relaxed in his sleep. He doesn’t want to think about the crib anymore. Really, it’s not the trauma of trying to put it together. He can shrug that off easily enough now that it’s done. The hard part is what it symbolizes, what it puts into perspective.

Klaus is pregnant. He has been for weeks, of course, months even, but it hasn’t felt real.

Looking at that crib makes it real in a way it never was. The omega curled up against him is pregnant. There’s going to be a baby in this room with them in a few months.

Diego inhales slowly. They have so much to do to prepare.

Chapter Text

Klaus wakes up in increments. The little movements that start the process barely register as much with how tired he is, and he snuggles closer to Diego the first few times, drifting in and out of sleep. It helps that Di has the day off from the academy. He’s pretty sure neither of them have any specific place to be, though they might go out on a date if the mood strikes. Maybe Griddy’s again.

Even half asleep, Klaus sighs at the thought of one of Griddy’s donuts. Maybe some mac and cheese, too. Both sounds good. Together, at the same time, whatever. Of course, that would mean he’d have to get up. He could get Diego to go pick up an order, but then his body pillow would be gone, and Klaus wouldn’t be in this blissful state of comfort anymore. He closes his eyes again.

And then the baby shifts. Presses against his bladder.

Klaus pouts, pushing himself up with one arm and rubbing at his tired eyes. Beside him, Diego groans. The omega pats his cheek. “I’ll be back,” he says with a yawn. “Gotta piss.” He scrambles over Di on his way out of the bed, grabs a thin purple robe he picked up at a thrift shop, slips his feet into fuzzy slippers he got at the same time, and stumbles out to the bathrooms.

Ben trails after him. “You know, you’ve become domestic,” his brother says. There’s an undercurrent of amusement there, but mostly he sounds happy about it.

Klaus supposes he’s pretty happy about it himself. “Right? Isn’t it great?” He scratches the back of his head as he yawns again. The gym is still pretty empty this early in the morning, so he has no trouble finding an empty stall. He sighs in relief. Half asleep as he was, he hadn’t realized just how full his bladder was.

No matter how close they’ve gotten over the years, Ben stays out in the main part of the bathroom, leaning against the sinks. He waits until Klaus is back out and washing his hands. (Otherwise, he knows the omega won’t be awake enough to pay attention to him.) “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Same,” Klaus says, shrugging. He says it like it’s nothing big, and really, it isn’t. He’s not offended. Honestly, if you’d asked him months ago where he’d be right now, there are a million and one street corners and hole-in-the-walls he could point to. He used to think Klaus Hargreeves wasn’t meant for anything but high highs and extremely low lows. He loved it, too. He misses it, in some ways.

Being here with Di and Ben and his troll, though — that is a whole different kind of high, and he doesn’t intend to give it up anytime soon.

Klaus wanders back to the boiler room. He kicks off his slippers and sheds his robe, throwing it on the couch. When he looks at the cot, Di is still asleep, shirtless with his short hair tousled just a little, and the sight reminds Klaus he’s in his last trimester and horny as hell. “Benny?”

“Yeah?” Ben’s getting comfortable on the couch, where he spends most of his days when they’re not going out.

“Why don’t you skedaddle and do ghosty things for a while?” He wiggles his fingers as he says it. His attention is still on the alpha in the bed.

Thankfully, Ben is observant. He makes a yucky face and stands. “I’ll be back much later,” he calls out, leaving fairly quickly.

While climbing out of bed barely woke Di, climbing back in nets Klaus a few confused grumbles and a tug closer. “Why are you up?” the alpha groans.

Klaus throws a leg over his. (It’s not as easy as it would have been a few months ago, but the blush on Di’s face is more than enough evidence it worked the way he wanted it to.) “I’m horny.” Maybe that’s not why he got up in the first place. It’s not a lie, though. His cock is already hard, straining against the shorts he can’t quite pull up over his bump anymore despite them being maternity wear.

The blush deepens. More importantly, Diego is hard, too. “Maybe I can do something about that,” the alpha says, trying for suave but missing the mark a little with how flustered and sleepy he is.

And fuck if Klaus doesn’t love him for it. He rocks his hips against him and nips at his jaw. “Sounds like a treat.”

Diego adjusts his grip on the omega, wrapping his arm around him enough to get the right amount of leverage to flip them over gently until he’s hovering over Klaus, the two of them barely covered at all. He dips his head down to pull him into a kiss. Diego’s good at this, good at knowing what Klaus wants, and it maybe helps they’ve done a lot of kissing since their first date. He kneels between the omega’s legs and takes his time with his lips.

It’s not quite enough. Klaus lifts his hips up, aching for more contact.

Slipping a hand between them, Diego gives him exactly what he wants, his hand covering the omega’s hard dick through the thin fabric of his shorts. Diego knows he’s done good, too. His smirk widens against Klaus’ lips as Klaus groans at the contact.

Klaus, embarrassingly enough, feels like he’s ready to come just with that. It’s almost too much for his hormone-addled, touch-starved body. He scrambles to push his shorts down, and soon, he’s got Di’s warm hand around his cock. It’s awkward. Not quite sure for the first few strokes.

Blissful.

Every little sound spurs the alpha on, his grip getting firmer, more finessed, until he’s stripping him quick and hard, Klaus squirming under him as the moans echo through their lips. He strokes him through it. Come splatters across his hand and the omega’s rounded stomach.

Klaus feels wet and gross and oh so wonderful. The languid warmth lingers in his limbs, but he’s feeling anything but sleepy. Instead, he breaks away from Diego’s mouth and nudges him onto his back so that Klaus can do what is perhaps one of his favorite things to do.

Di’s eyes go wide as Klaus shifts down the bed. “You don’t have to —”

“I know,” Klaus drawls with a wink right before he’s swirling his tongue around the flushed head of the alpha’s freed cock. He reaches behind himself to dip his fingers in his own slick, bringing them back to grip Di and stroke while he teases him with pecks and licks and the occasional short suck. The alpha won’t knot like this, but Klaus pays special attention to the base of him anyway. He draws circles over where he’d swell and lock with a painted thumb. He keeps constant eye contact as Di strains with the effort of keeping his hips still.

It’s sweet, really, how much his brother cares. None of Klaus’ past partners have given an ounce of the care he does.

Which, maybe, if Klaus was the kind of person who really wanted to dwell on his fucked up psyche, he’d attribute the amount of work he’s putting into this to. But he’s not. So he doesn’t. He does breathe in and lower his head, taking Di in all the way down to the ring of his fingers without hesitation, smirking around his length as the alpha’s eyes squeeze shut, his hips trembling.

Diego can’t help himself from twisting his fingers in Klaus’ growing hair as the orgasm slams into him. His breath is choppy. His eyes squeeze tighter with every swallow.

Klaus pulls away with one last lick. “How was that?” He crawls up to flop on the cot right next to Di. He doesn’t need to ask — the look on the alpha’s face is enough — but he’s always liked a little praise now and then.

Rather than answering, Diego laughs breathlessly, incredulously. “Fuck, Klaus.”

The curl of satisfaction in Klaus’ gut grows. “Next time,” he singsongs and leans in for a quick kiss.

Unfortunately, the laziness can’t last that long. Diego has half a mind to call Eudora real quick and cancel their lunch.

And then he remembers how long she’s been poking at him, trying to get him to arrange a lunch with Klaus, to introduce them before the two of them have a baby to occupy them. If he cancels it today, he’ll not hear the end of it for a while. Well, mostly it’ll be unimpressed or amused looks. Either way, he’d rather force himself to get out of bed.

Klaus, of course, pouts at him when he does. “Noooo.”

Diego grabs a rag to wipe the two of them off until they can get into the locker room to actually shower. “I promised Eudora, remember?”

The reminder of where they’re supposed to go today perks the omega up immediately. He takes the proffered rag, cleans himself off, and tugs his shorts back up, easing out of bed right after. “I bet she has stories,” Klaus says as he digs through his clothes to find something to wear for the day. He settles on a swishy skirt and one of Di’s sweaters, naturally.

Klaus takes his shower quickly. He’s got more pep in his step than Diego has seen in a while, and honestly, as much as Diego knows he’ll probably end up sitting to the side as both the omega and Eudora roast him for the entirety of their lunch, he feels reassured in his decision to have them meet. Happy, even.

Though, to be fair, he’s been happy about a lot of things in the last few months. He links arms with Klaus as they walk towards Griddy’s.

And then Klaus stops suddenly. He looks at Diego, humor dancing in his eyes. “We must be getting serious if you’re bringing me to meet your school wifey.”

Diego can imagine the look he’d get if Klaus called her that to her face. He must look silly just thinking about it, because his brother gives him a big peck on the cheek and tugs him forward into the diner.

Unsurprisingly, Eudora is already there nursing a cup of black coffee. She catches sight of them almost immediately, and Diego can tell the moment she does, because her eyebrows shoot up. Her mouth twitches, like she’s trying to hold back a laugh. Her eyes are firmly on Klaus.

Klaus, who’s wearing what is undeniably Diego’s favorite sweater. The one she’s seen him wear quite a lot.

Diego flushes. “Hey, ‘Dora.”

Her lips twitch again. “Diego. And I presume this is Klaus?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Klaus says, lowering himself into one of the seats across the table from her. “Thanks for the crib, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” She takes a sip of her coffee and waves the waitress over. “My sister was happy to hand it off.”

The waitress takes their orders — including Klaus’ mac and cheese with two boston creme donuts on the side, of course.

Eudora crosses her legs and looks at his brother. “You must have plenty of stories about Diego as a kid.”

The smirk that spreads across Klaus’ face makes Diego groan. He knew this would be a bad idea.

(But, really, he’s so damn happy. Eudora is the only person he’s ever considered a friend. His siblings were siblings, not friends. All of his childhood was isolated, only his father and mother and siblings there with him, and he knows his social skills are… lacking in some ways.

Eudora didn’t give a shit. She liked his attitude. His drive.

She likes his brother. Diego can’t hold back his smile at watching them talk, bond over him. She doesn’t care that the only idea she had about Klaus before was tied to the drugs and booze. She only cares about him as he is now.

Diego couldn’t have asked for a better friend.)

It’s late in the afternoon when they go back to the gym. Klaus yawns and drops down on the cot, wrapping himself up in their blankets without bothering to pull off his clothes or shoes. “I like her,” he calls out from his half-assed nest.

Diego grins.