Chapter Text
Pete stands behind the sink in his bathroom.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and doesn’t show any expression on his face. He just stares quietly at the two red lines on the pregnancy test he’s holding between his fingers. His mind travels back to that certain night all those weeks ago; the cause of this result.
A long moment passes before he finally moves and drops the test into the small trash bin beside the sink. He washes his hands clean and stares at his reflection in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.
He grabs his leather jacket and puts it on before making his way out to the house. He slides the aviator sunglasses over his face and throws one leg over his black motorcycle that’s parked on the driveway. The engine roars to life as he rides it out to the road.
The California sun is bright and scorching as Pete speeds down the main road all the way to NAS North Island. When he pulls into the base, he parks his motorcycle and gets off swiftly.
“Captain Mitchell.” A few officers who are walking by nod their head respectfully.
Pete returns their greeting and slips off his sunglasses before stepping into the building. The cool air from the air conditioning hits him as soon as he walks through the door, but his step immediately falters when he sees the alpha who’s standing a few feet ahead.
Bradley Bradshaw.
The alpha is talking to a young pilot, his face is serious but his posture is relaxed. The collar of his flight suit is zipped just enough to show his black undershirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing sun-kissed skin and veiny forearms.
For a moment, Pete doesn’t move, his eyes are staring at Bradley’s face as the younger man speaks. Then, Pete takes in a slow breath before stepping forward to pass them.
“Captain Mitchell.” The young pilot greets him quickly.
Bradley turns slightly and nods at him. “Hey, Mav.”
“Hey.” Pete greets back with a casual smile. “You two seem to be discussing something important.”
“We’re just talking about high-g maneuvering during defensive rolls. How to manage blackout risk during a sustained turn and stuff.” Bradley glances at the younger pilot in front of him. “You know, tighten your legs and core like hell and time your breathing.”
“Short bursts every three seconds, that’s what my captain told me.” The young pilot adds.
“Yes, and hope your body likes staying conscious.” Pete hums.
The three of them chuckle lightly, but Pete’s smile fades a little too quickly. His arms are still crossed over his chest, but they tighten slightly as the memory from this morning in his bathroom crosses his mind again. Bradley seems to notice it; his eyes flick over to the omega for a second.
“You good, Mav?” Bradley asks.
“Yeah.” Pete nods and then looks at both of them. “Well then, I’ll be going first.”
He starts walking down the corridor, but just after a few steps, the young pilot calls out to him.
“Captain!”
Pete stops and turns to look.
“I’m an omega too.” The young man blurts out, looking both nervous and shy. “I’ve always looked up to you, sir. I mean… people said that omegas couldn’t be fighter pilots, that we’re too sensitive under pressure, but you proved them wrong. You’re better than a lot of alphas I’ve flown with. I just… I wanted you to know that.”
There’s a pause, and then Pete’s face softens with a genuine smile. “Appreciate that, Lieutenant. Keep up the good work.”
He turns around and walks away, but his smile fades away as soon as he’s facing forward again. He drops his gaze to the floor tiles for a moment before lifting it again as he makes his way down the hall.
He keeps walking until he’s standing outside the door of Cyclone’s office, and then he knocks on it.
“Come in.” A voice from inside responds.
Pete pushes the door open and steps inside with a casual smile. “Admiral Simpson, how can I help you today?”
Cyclone doesn’t smile at the greeting. He never does, but today, he looks even more serious.
“Captain Mitchell.” Cyclone starts as he flips through the papers on his desk. “We’ve made some adjustments to the digital flight control software of the F/A-18 Hornet. The engineers team wants to test how the new configuration handles under extreme low-altitude maneuvering and variable wind conditions.”
Pete raises a brow slightly, but he continues to listen.
“We need someone who knows exactly what a jet should feel like and give us real-world input that telemetry might miss.” Cyclone lifts his gaze to him. “You know what you have to do, Captain.”
Pete stays quiet. His mind drifts back to this morning again, to the two red lines glaring at him and the pregnancy test that he threw into the trash bin.
“Is there something wrong?” Cyclone narrows his eyes just slightly.
Pete shakes his head and puts his usual mask back on. “No. I’m good. When is it ready?”
“The runway is being prepared. The jet should be ready in an hour.” Cyclone says.
“Copy that.” Pete nods.
Less than an hour later, Pete is seated in the cockpit of the F/A-18 with his helmet on and his oxygen mask secured. The crew members are moving around him, finishing their final checks and making sure everything’s ready for the test flight. Pete waits until a crew member steps forward and gives him a thumbs-up, signalling that everything’s ready.
He flicks the switches on the instrument panel as the canopy lowers above him. As soon as the canopy locks into place, the noise of the busy flight deck muffles into silence. He turns his head to the side, seeing the launch officer gesturing his arm forward, signalling that it’s cleared for take-off.
Pete grips the control stick and adjusts the throttle, feeling the engine roaring beneath him. Within a second, the jet lurches forward and makes its way down the runway. He keeps the control stick steady for a few seconds before gently pulling it back to lift the jet off the ground.
As the F/A-18 flies up to the open blue sky above, he can feel the usual pressure of G-force pinning him to his seat, but there’s something different this time. There’s a strange pull in his abdomen. It’s not painful or anything, but there’s this uncomfortable tightness in his lower belly.
He exhales through his nose and brushes the discomfort aside. There’s a job to do. He shouldn’t get distracted just from a minor inconvenience.
He maneuvers the jet until it reaches a safe altitude before starting the test pattern. The system officer’s voice from the control tower crackles through his radio headset.
“Maverick, confirm altitude and proceed with the control loop test.”
“Copy, tower.” Pete replies. “Level at ten thousand. Beginning loop now.”
He moves the control stick around to make the jet climb, arch, and roll through the air. He notices that it’s more responsive than the previous system. It’s a little twitchy, but still manageable.
“How is it, Maverick?”
“Tighter than I expected, but it’s sharper. Might throw off newer pilots into a crosswind descent though.” Pete reports.
“Copy that. Proceed to a high-speed roll and dive test.”
Pete shifts into position and adjusts the throttle. He tips the aircraft sharply and then pulls into a dive.
And then it hits him.
There’s a nauseating twist in his stomach and tight pressure against his ribs. His vision flickers for a second, like the blood isn’t moving fast enough in his head. It’s never like this, not just from a simple dive.
“Maverick, confirm handling in the dive.”
“Roll’s control is smooth, but lateral balance at high speed still feels—”
He stops talking. The next words don’t come and his throat feels tight. He can’t breathe. His heart is pounding too hard, too fast.
Something is wrong.
“Maverick?” The voice crackles through the radio. “Is there a problem?”
“I need to land. Now.” Pete blurts out in one breath.
There’s a beat of silence before Cyclone’s voice cuts in through the radio.
“You’re cleared for immediate landing. Bring it in, Maverick.”
Pete turns sharply and descends toward the runway. He tries to focus, but his body feels off and his head is spinning. He has never felt this way when flying, not in all these years he has spent in the sky.
The wheels of the jet hit the runway with a bounce, and then they screech against the tarmac. He cuts the throttle, hits the airbrake, and brings the aircraft to a halt. When the canopy lifts, he can feel the fresh air rushing in, but it’s not enough.
He yanks off the helmet and mask, barely hearing the deck crew’s voices calling for him. Someone tries to help him down the ladder, but he already stumbles out and starts running away. He runs across the tarmac until he reaches the grass beside the runway.
And then he vomits into the grass.
The flight crew around him breaks into murmurs, eyes wide in surprise and confusion. Maverick, the legendary pilot of the Air Force, vomits after flying a F/A-18 for less than thirty minutes. Meanwhile, Cyclone strides over from the tower with a frown on his face.
“Maverick.” The Admiral says flatly once he’s standing next to him. “Are you sick?”
Pete wipes the back of his glove across his mouth and straightens up. “Just a stomach thing. Maybe I ate something bad this morning.”
“Are you sure?” Cyclone stares at him.
“Yeah.” Pete huffs out a laugh, but Cyclone doesn’t buy it.
“Go see the Navy doctor. Now.” The Admiral says firmly.
In the end, Pete walks down the corridor of the main operations building towards the medical office. Thankfully, it’s not far, just past the administrative wing. He nods his head at a few officers to greet him as they pass, trying to put on a smile as he does.
When he gets to the medical bay, a young corpsman at the front desk stands up to greet him immediately. “Captain Mitchell. Admiral Simpson said you’d be coming. Room 3B, sir.”
Pete nods and steps past the corpsman to reach the examination room.
The room is pretty small with a female doctor waiting inside. Pete recognizes her as Lieutenant Commander Emily Reyes, one of the senior flight medical officers in the base. She’s in her early forties, but the people on base often say that she looks a little older than her age.
“Captain Mitchell. You don’t look thrilled to be here.” Dr. Reyes greets.
“Can’t imagine anyone would be.” Pete sighs and sits on the exam table.
“Well then, let’s run through a few questions.” Dr. Reyes looks down at the tablet in her hand. “I received news about you vomiting post-flight, which is very unlikely for a test pilot like you. Is there any dizziness? Any abdominal pain or lightheaded feeling?”
“It’s nothing serious. Just a bit queasy. Maybe from the food I ate.” Pete waves it off, not really wanting to go into details.
Dr. Reyes ignores his words and keeps asking. “Diarrhea? Fever? Cramping?”
“No. Just a little off today.” Pete waves his hand again. “Just ate something bad.”
“And what exactly did you eat this morning?” Dr. Reyes raises a brow.
“A protein bar. Maybe it’s expired. I didn’t check.” Pete shrugs lightly.
“How long have you been feeling nauseous? A week, perhaps?” Dr. Reyes continues with her questions and taps something into the tablet.
“It’s nothing serious, Doc. I assure you.”
Dr. Reyes sighs audibly and sets the tablet down before staring at Pete in the eyes. “I’m going to run a pregnancy test on you.”
“That’s… completely unnecessary.” Pete presses his lips.
“It’s a standard for omegas reporting nausea with no fever or infection signs.”
“Seriously?” Pete huffs out a dry laugh.
“Seriously.” Dr. Reyes nods and then crosses her arms against her chest. “What are you afraid of, Captain?”
“Afraid?” Pete snorts.
“Yes, you’re afraid of answering my questions honestly to help me identify the actual problem.” Dr. Reyes looks at him in the eyes. “What are you trying to hide, Captain?”
“Dr. Reyes, I’m not hiding anything.” Pete tries to play it off with a casual smile.
“Are you afraid of the possibility of being pregnant?” Dr. Reyes asks bluntly, clearly not the type who likes the beat around the bushes.
Pete’s smile remains on his face, but only for a moment before it fades away.
“I can’t be pregnant, Doc.” Pete mutters, more to himself than her. “At my age, really?”
“If you still experience heat cycles and have had sexual intercourse in the past month, then it’s not impossible, Captain.” Dr. Reyes says, her voice slightly softer now. “In fact, there are omegas older than you who still conceive.”
Pete drops his gaze to the floor. The silence stretches for a while before he finally speaks again. “Can you keep my medical report confidential?”
“I’m required to report to Admiral Simpson.” Dr. Reyes says.
“Yeah, of course.” Pete nods and lets out a quiet sigh.
Dr. Reyes stares at him, almost looking thoughtful, and then says softly. “There’s always a choice, Captain.”
“A choice?” Pete lifts his head to look at the doctor.
“If you’re pregnant, it’s your decision whether to continue the pregnancy or not. No one else can make that call for you, not even the Navy.”
The words hit harder than he expects. His breath hitches slightly before he lets it out. The room feels a little colder as he thinks about the weight of each choice. He didn’t plan to get pregnant, especially not at this stage of his life, but the idea of getting rid of it makes his chest feel tight.
“Well then, shall we proceed to the test?” Dr. Reyes drops her hands by her side.
“I already took a quick kit this morning. Two lines.” Pete sighs and rubs his forehead.
“So you knew you might be pregnant.”
“My heat cycle didn’t come this month and I… did have sexual intercourse last month.” Pete gestures his hands slightly as he speaks. “Also, there’s been this random nausea since the past few days.”
Dr. Reyes hums, neither surprised nor dismissive. “Then we’ll run a full scan. We still need to determine gestational age, fetal development, and hormonal levels. Just to make sure everything’s progressing safely.”
A short while later, he is guided to the OB clinic down the hall, located deeper within the base’s medical facility. It’s quieter here, a little more private. A nurse leads him into a room where a male omega doctor, Commander Malik Richards, waits for him.
He lays down the exam table and lets them start the ultrasound process. He keeps his eyes to the ceiling most of the time and only glances over once the screen flickers with a grainy black-and-white picture of something that looks like a tiny blob.
When it’s over, he sits in front of Dr. Richards who is reviewing the charts on his monitor. Unlike Dr. Reyes who looks older than her actual age, Dr. Richards looks younger than his age even though Pete knows this man is actually older than him.
“Alright, Captain.” Dr. Richards begins. “You’re approximately five weeks along. Based on the measurements and your hormone levels, everything appears stable and within normal range.”
Pete lets out a long breath and leans forward, rubbing his face with one hand. There’s a feeling of relief, but also mixed with other feelings he can’t name. It’s all jumbled in his head. He doesn’t even know what to feel at this moment.
Dr. Richards studies his reaction for a moment before asking. “Seems like it’s a surprise for you.”
“Well, I… I didn’t plan this. I didn’t expect to get pregnant.” Pete gestures his hand slightly.
“But you had sexual intercourse during your heat without any protection or contraceptives?” Dr. Richards raises an eyebrow.
“I was on a suppressant, so I wasn’t technically in heat, and that suppressant is supposed to act as a contraceptive at the same time. Isn’t that how it works?” Pete furrows his brows a little as he recalls what he heard many years ago.
“It is, technically speaking, but it’s not always effective. There have been many cases where an omega still gets pregnant despite taking heat suppressants, and you’re now one of them.”
Pete blows out another heavy sigh and buries his face in a hand. Just because he has spent so many years doing that without getting pregnant, it doesn’t mean it will always work. He should have been more careful.
Dr. Richards stares at him quietly before asking a question. “Have you decided if you want to keep the baby?”
Pete looks up and opens his mouth to answer, but the words won’t come out. His eyes shift to the corner of the desk and then back to the doctor’s face, but there’s still nothing.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me right now. This isn’t a decision you need to make today.” The doctor says gently.
Pete drops his gaze slightly before asking. “When will I need to decide?”
“We’ll see each other again in two weeks. Just give yourself time until then.” Dr. Richards replies.
“Alright. Thanks, Doc.” Pete nods.
By the time Pete steps out of the medical wing, the sun is hanging low, painting the sky with hues of warm colors. He slips his sunglasses on and makes his way toward the parking area where his motorcycle is.
He’s about to swing a leg over his bike when he hears a voice calling to him.
“Mav!”
Pete freezes momentarily before turning his head.
Bradley is walking toward him, still in his flight suit with the sleeves rolled up. His expression looks casual, but there’s tension in his shoulders and the way he walks, and Pete notices it.
“Hey, Bradley.” He greets the alpha with a small smile.
“You okay? I heard about what happened during the test flight earlier.” Bradley stops and scans him from head to toe.
It seems that the stories about him puking his guts out after flying have spread around the base and Pete wonders the last time he has ever felt so ashamed. An experienced test pilot like him getting sick after flying for half an hour? Ridiculous.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just an upset stomach. Probably ate something bad.” He shrugs lightly to play it off.
Bradley doesn’t look very convinced. The alpha stares at him for a second longer and then glances toward his own motorcycle at the other side of the parking area. “Hold on. I’ll follow you back.”
Pete lifts a hand quickly. “That’s not necessary—”
But Bradley is already walking off. He watches the alpha with a look of amusement and exasperation before shaking his head. Without actually waiting for Bradley, he swings his leg over his motorcycle and roars the engine to life before pulling out onto the road.
Not a minute later, he hears the sound of another rumbling engine behind him. He glances at the rearview mirror and sees Bradley catching up on his own motorcycle. He doesn’t say anything to the alpha, he just smiles faintly and keeps on riding.
It’s just a short ride back to his Navy housing, a place where he stays when he’s assigned here. He pulls up in the driveway and cuts the engine before getting off his bike. A moment later, Bradley pulls up beside him and does the same.
“Thanks for following me back even though you didn’t have to.” Pete says.
“Don’t mention it.” Bradley shrugs lightly.
“Are you heading back to BOQ after this?”
“Yeah, staying there for a night and then I’ll fly out to Lemoore tomorrow morning.” Bradley says with a nod.
“Alright. Be careful on the road. Don’t ride too fast.” Pete nods back at the younger man.
“It’s just fifteen minutes away.” The alpha chuckles lightly. “And you, out of all people, telling someone not to ride too fast? How funny.”
“Shut up.” Pete rolls his eyes.
Bradley laughs before roaring his engine back to life and guides the motorcycle back onto the road. Pete stays where he is, watching until Bradley’s figure disappears into the sunset, and then everything falls quiet.
After a moment, he opens the garage door and rolls his motorcycle into it. He glances once more at the empty road before pulling the garage door shut.
The next morning, Pete finds himself in Cyclone’s office again, but he doesn’t have to ask why he’s here. There’s a folder on the Admiral’s desk and the caduceus symbol stamped on it tells him exactly what it is.
Cyclone sits behind his desk, his hands folded on the table and his jaw tense. Pete stands in front of the desk and stares at the wall, waiting for a word.
“Sit down.” Cyclone says.
Pete is caught off guard by the command. As a lower-ranking officer, he always stands at attention whenever he’s speaking to a Vice Admiral like Cyclone.
“Sit down, Captain.” Cyclone repeats.
Pete hesitates for a moment, but then sits down in front of the Admiral.
“As of today, I’m grounding you from flight status. You’ll be reassigned to administrative duties and field training supervision until further notice.” Cyclone starts.
Pete’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing. “You can’t do that to me.”
“I can.” Cyclone says firmly. “And I will.”
“You can’t stop me from flying, Admiral.” Pete argues.
“Do you understand how dangerous it is for a pregnant pilot to fly? Even more so in high-performance aircraft?” Cyclone doesn’t raise his voice, but his tone is firm.
“I can handle this.” Pete grits his teeth, his hands clenching around the armrests of the chair.
“That’s not the point.” Cyclone leans slightly forward and stares into his eyes. “I’m not going to take any risk that could endanger the life you’re carrying inside you, Maverick.”
Pete stares back at the alpha, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I’ve reviewed your medical report.” Cyclone continues and opens the folder on his desk. “Five weeks along. You’re flying with fluctuating blood pressure, unpredictable hormonal spikes, and increased G-force sensitivity. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“I know my body.” Pete says. “I’ve flown under worse situations.”
“But this isn’t just about you anymore.” Cyclone says sharply.
Pete falls silent again.
“This is just temporary. You still have a job in the Navy, I assure you that, but you’re not getting into another cockpit while you're carrying a child inside you.” Cyclone says in finality.
Pete stares at the folder for a long moment before muttering. “So, that’s it? No more flying for me?”
“For now, that’s it.” Cyclone says.
The silence stretches long after that.
Pete sits still, his eyes lowered and hands resting loosely on the armrests now. Cyclone studies the omega carefully. His expression remains stoic, but there’s a thoughtful look in his eyes, like he’s trying to decide how much he should say.
After a long moment, Cyclone finally asks. “Is the father someone in the Navy? A pilot?”
Pete glances up to meet the Admiral’s gaze. “Does it matter?”
“That depends on the situation and what you want.” Cyclone explains. “If they’re part of the Navy, there are protocols. You have the right to request involvement, support, and recognition if you want it.”
Pete presses his lips into a faint smile and shakes his head. “I don’t want to involve anybody else in this.”
“Doesn’t the father have the right to know, at least?” Cyclone narrows his eyes slightly.
“He won’t appreciate the news.” Pete shakes his head again.
Cyclone sighs softly and closes the folder to put it aside. “Best of luck, Captain. You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Pete stands up and gives a quick salute before turning around. When he reaches the door, he pauses and turns halfway over his shoulder. “Is there really no chance I could fly again? Just to stay in practice?”
“Not at the moment, Captain.” Cyclone says firmly.
“Right.” Pete nods and steps out of the room.
Later that afternoon, Pete sits alone on the front porch of his house. The golden hour has come and gone, and now the sky is turning darker as the evening begins to settle. His gaze is distant, locked on the empty road in front of him. Everything is quiet and almost peaceful, but his mind, not so much.
He thinks about those nights he shared with Bradley that lead to this moment.
It started with a mistake. It was one night, months ago, where they had too many drinks and too much fun at the Hard Deck. They were a little buzzed, laughing too loudly in the corner, and the space between them grew smaller as the night went on. It ended with him taking Bradley to his house and the alpha pushing him onto the bed.
He should have stopped there, he should have never let it happen in the first place, but he told himself that it was just the alcohol, that it was just one time, that they both would forget about it when the morning came.
But it wasn’t just one time.
There were other nights where Bradley would show up here or even in his hangar in Mojave after a long ride. He would sometimes show up at Bradley’s unit whenever the alpha was staying in BOQ, and there were also nights where they stayed off base in a hotel to spend the night together.
Sometimes they didn’t even make it to the bed. Sometimes it was fast and rough. Sometimes it was slow and gentle.
There’s no label for what they are. He never asks why Bradley keeps coming back and Bradley never asks what he means by all of it. They’re more like fuck-buddies who would meet up at night just to have sex.
He tells himself that Bradley is just curious, that maybe Bradley just needs an outlet and he’s the most convenient choice. At least it’s easier to believe that than to wish for more.
Because the truth is, he feels so much more for Bradley, and he hates to admit it.
It’s wrong. Pete knew it the moment he started looking at Bradley not as Goose’s son or the boy he had helped to raise, but as an alpha. He couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened, but one day, he looked at Bradley and didn’t see the kid he used to know anymore. He saw Bradley as a man and an alpha, and after that, he couldn’t turn back from that point.
And maybe, Bradley also saw him as an omega. He could feel it from the way Bradley grabbed his hips and murmured his name. He could see it from the way Bradley stared at him with lust and hunger in his eyes.
Or maybe not.
They never talked about it, after all.
Pete lets out a heavy sigh and drags a hand down his face while his other hand settles absently over his lower abdomen. Cyclone’s words ring in his head once again, about how Bradley has the right to know about this, but how the hell is he supposed to tell the alpha that a certain night in Mojave last month caused this?
Maybe the reason why Bradley sleeps with him is because the alpha thinks that he won’t get pregnant, not with his age. Bradley thinks he’s a convenient fuck.
Pete closes his eyes with another sigh and leans back against his seat. He has always been a reckless man, but he should have known better at this age.
“You’re… what?” Hondo furrows his brows.
“Pregnant.” Pete says, not stopping his steps as they walk down the tarmac side by side.
There’s a pause before Hondo stops mid-step. “With that guy?”
“Yes, with that guy.” Pete runs a hand down his face, already feeling tired just from the conversation.
Hondo’s face contorts into a look of grimace and confusion as he starts walking again to catch up beside Pete. “Jesus, Maverick. What the hell?”
“I know. I know. I don’t need the lecture.” Pete waves a hand.
“I just… I didn’t expect this. I mean, I know you’ve been sleeping with him, but… getting pregnant?” Hondo scrunches his face even more, like he’s trying to make sense of it all.
“Yeah, it is what it is.” Pete sighs. “Anyway, I trust you not to tell this to anybody else, especially not that guy.”
“Hey, you know my lips are sealed.” Hondo raises both hands in mock surrender. “But I might need to dunk my head in cold water later to process this.”
Pete snorts lightly.
“Is this why you haven’t flown anything the past few days?” Hondo asks.
“Yeah, Cyclone grounded me.” Pete says flatly. “Honestly, maybe it’d be better if they just discharge me completely from the Navy.”
“Don’t say that.” Hondo says.
“What’s the point of staying here if I’m not allowed to fly?” Pete scoffs.
Hondo opens his mouth, but then closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have a good answer to that, so they keep walking quietly.
After a long silence, Hondo finally asks. “You know where Cyclone’s planning to move you?”
“He mentioned sending me back to Top Gun as an instructor this year, though it’s still under discussion.” Pete shrugs.
“You’ll fit that job. You used to be an instructor many years ago, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but being an instructor without actually flying? Sure. Sounds like a dream come true.” Pete says sarcastically.
Hondo smiles wryly and doesn’t say anything else. The two of them keep walking slowly along the edge of the tarmac, watching the crews moving on with their day-to-day task. The sun is starting to lower, turning the sky into hues of gold.
“So… how’s your pregnancy? How’s your body and everything?” Hondo breaks the silence again.
“The doctor said everything looks fine so far. I’ve got another appointment next week.”
“I see.” Hondo murmurs and glances at Pete’s still-flat stomach. “I didn’t think you’d ever end up pregnant by accident. I thought you’d be really strict with birth control and all that, just like how you take your heat suppressants.”
“We’re not even sleeping together that often. There’s only a few nights here and there each month, nothing regular and no plans beforehand. I didn’t expect this to happen either, especially not at my age.” Pete lets out a tired sigh and mutters softly. “I took the damn heat suppressant that night. This has never happened with any other alphas I’ve ever slept with.”
“Well, that kid got strong sperm, I guess.” Hondo tries to lighten the mood with a joke.
Pete gives him the side-eye instead.
“My bad.” Hondo mutters sheepishly.
They walk in silence for a few more steps before Hondo asks another question, but more cautiously this time. “So… what are you planning to do about the baby?”
“I don’t know.” Pete takes a long breath in and then lets it out slowly. “Being pregnant at this age feels like something that might only happen once in my lifetime. I don’t know if I can just… get rid of this.”
Hondo presses his lips and brings his hand to pat Pete’s shoulder. “You still have time to think about it, right?”
“Yeah.” Pete nods slowly.
The evening is cool and quiet by the time Pete rides back to the housing area. He’s riding back from a quick dinner with Hondo where they talk more over shared jokes. It’s nice to spend his time with a good friend, but the tightness in his chest is still here.
When he gets closer to his house, he sees someone standing on his driveway. Pete feels his stomach sinking a little, but he remains calm as he pulls his motorcycle into the driveway and kills the engine.
He gets off his motorcycle and then turns to the visitor. “You need something?”
“Just thought of dropping by.” Bradley says casually.
Pete feels his heart skipping a beat, but he ignores it as he unlocks the garage door. He rolls his motorcycle into the garage and Bradley walks inside without even asking, as if he doesn’t need permission to get into Pete’s personal space.
“What do you need, Bradley?” Pete turns around to look at the alpha.
“Nothing.” Bradley shuts the garage door behind him and locks it.
“Then why are you here?”
“Just wanted to see you.” Bradley shrugs.
It’s such simple words, but they hit Pete harder than they should. His throat tightens and there’s an ache growing in his chest. Suddenly, he feels everything pressing down on him at once; his pregnancy, Cyclone’s decision, his conversation with Hondo, and the way Bradley’s presence fills his mind with so many conflicted thoughts.
Pete sucks in a sharp breath and turns away. “Bradley, I’m not in the mood for this.”
“For what?” Bradley steps closer, looking a little confused.
“If you’re here to fuck, I’m not in the mood.” He says sharply.
Bradley blinks, visibly taken aback. “I’m not here for that.”
“Then what are you here for?” Pete snaps suddenly. “You show up whenever you feel like it as if it’s some kind of game.”
Bradley pauses, confused and concerned by the sudden outburst. “Mav, is everything alright?”
“I’m fine.” Pete snaps again, but his voice cracks a little at the end. His eyes sting and his throat feels tight. His emotions are all over the place, which isn’t like him, at least not at this age. He turns his face away and mutters under his breath. “God, I don’t know why I’m acting like shit.”
“Mav—” Bradley moves closer, but he quickly holds up a hand.
“No. Sorry. Just… forget it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He moves away to put distance between them, but his emotion is already spilling over. He stops at the corner of the garage and braces his hands against the workbench.
Bradley doesn’t say anything, but he moves closer. Pete can hear the footsteps approaching him, so he shakes his head.
“Just let me be.” He mutters, head hanging low between his shoulders.
Bradley doesn’t listen. When he gets close enough, he wraps his arms around Pete from behind.
Pete stiffens at the hug, but he doesn’t pull away or struggle. He just stands there as Bradley tightens his hold around him.
It’s not forceful or demanding, like Bradley is just letting him know that he’s here. He can feel Bradley’s chin resting on his shoulder and they stay like that for a moment. The silence stretches on, but it feels comfortable, silencing the chaos in his mind. Pete leans back, just slightly, just enough for him to sink into the warmth behind him.
After a while, Bradley asks softly. “Do you want to talk?”
“No.” Pete closes his eyes.
“Alright.” Bradley doesn’t press. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“I just want to shower and sleep. I’m damn tired.”
Bradley nods against his shoulder. “Alright then.”
And Bradley lets him do that.
The alpha sits in the living room as he takes his shower. It’s not the first time Bradley is here and he knows the alpha knows how to make himself at home. When he’s done showering and changing his clothes, he steps out to the living room and sees Bradley looking at him.
“Got any clothes I can wear after shower?” The alpha asks almost sheepishly.
“Come here.” Pete sighs and takes Bradley to the bedroom. He grabs a clean towel and pair of clothes before handing them. “Your toothbrush is still in my bathroom.”
“Thanks.” Bradley grins before making his way to the bathroom.
While the alpha takes his shower, Pete makes himself comfortable under the blanket. He curls onto his side and faces the wall, thinking about the emotional outburst he just had. It’s not like him to act like an emotional teenager, but apparently, pregnancy hormones are not just exaggerated stories.
He sighs softly and presses his head deeper into the pillow. He should’ve kicked Bradley out the moment he saw the alpha waiting in the driveway. He should have shut the door and let that be the end of it, but he didn’t, because a part of him wanted Bradley to stay.
Bradley has taken up more space in his heart than what he cares to admit, and that’s the worst part.
It’s so foolish for an omega at his age to be falling in love with a young alpha like Bradley, with someone who never said the words, never promised anything, and never asked for more than whatever they’re having right now.
It’s just his own heart that’s in too deep.
When the bathroom door creaks open, Pete shuts his eyes immediately and pretends to be asleep.
He hears the soft rustling of fabric, footsteps, scrape of the drawer and the creak of the floorboards. Bradley doesn’t say anything, but he hears the alpha moving closer until the mattress dips behind him.
“Mav, you asleep?” Bradley whispers softly.
Pete remains quiet.
He feels a shift of movement, and then Bradley’s arms wrap around him from behind. He can feel Bradley’s chest pressing against his back, sturdy and warm. The feeling of being held so protectively makes his chest ache.
He doesn’t know what this is anymore. He doesn’t know what Bradley wants. He doesn’t even know what he wants.
All he knows is that at this moment, with Bradley’s warmth breath against his neck and his bigger body pressed behind him, he wants to stay.