Adrenaline Rush: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance (Never Too Late Book 2)

by Aiden Bates

  Ozzy wrinkled his nose. "There's not turning it into a witch hunt and deliberately turning a blind eye to corruption. I mean, this makes it so much harder for the rest of us." He rubbed at his face in exhaustion. "But you know what? I can't do anything about it. All I can do is trace the money and hopefully nail Sierzant to the wall."

  His phone rang, and Ozzy jumped. Pete wouldn't usually call during the middle of the workday. "I need you to come home," Pete told him, without waiting for him to say anything.

  "Okay. Wait, did Sierzant show up?"

  "No. But Marissa is about to."

  Chapter Ten

  The hospital was a place of contradictions. It was hard for Pete to concentrate on much. He was in pain, and all of those websites that said that labor would be more discomfort or pressure instead of real pain were full of crap, thank you very much. He was filled with shame, because his water had broken and he was still leaking like someone had stuck a pin into a water balloon. And he was afraid.

  He was afraid of what was happening. He was afraid that the pain would get worse—hell, he knew the pain would get worse, that was what he was afraid of. He was afraid that Ozzy would have to leave and there would be no one here to help him. He was afraid that something would happen to Marissa. He was afraid that the doctor would slip and fall on some unseemly bodily fluid, hit his head, and not be available to help him. Worse, he might sue Pete!

  Not all of his fears were rational, and on some level Pete knew that. He fought to stay calm and not show anything to the nice, mellow health care professionals that were trying to check him in. He restricted his outward display of anything to gripping Ozzy's hand tightly and squeezing as hard as he could when another contraction hit.

  Admissions seemed to take forever. Maybe it just felt like forever because of the pain, and the anxiety, and because Pete's humiliation at coming in all wet and uncomfortable was so all encompassing. None of the nurses in the triage area seemed to be in much of a hurry. They laughed and joked with Ozzy as he helped with the insurance and answered their questions about medical allergies and the like.

  It was only when one of the nurses asked how far apart his contractors were, and Pete replied by holding up his free hand. It shook from the pain, and her eyes widened when she saw the three fingers Pete held up. "Three minutes apart? That's moving fast! You should have come in a while ago!" She stood up and came around to the other side of the desk. "You poor thing, you must be in a world of hurt. Let's get you right up to the birth center, okay?" She glanced at Ozzy. "Your alpha can come, of course."

  Pete didn't correct her, and they all headed up the elevator. The nurse grabbed Pete a wheelchair so that he didn't have to be on his feet, which was fine by Pete. As long he got to hold on to Ozzy's hand, he didn't care what they did.

  They got him right into a delivery room, where more nurses helped him change out of his sodden pajamas and into a johnny. Then they helped him get onto the bed and get his feet up into the stirrups.

  "Do you want a mirror?" a nurse asked him.

  Both Pete and Ozzy looked at her. "A mirror? What the hell for?" Ozzy asked.

  "So that he can watch the crowning!" she told him, her eyes bright and sparkling.

  Pete covered his mouth and Ozzy hugged his head to his chest. "Thanks, but I don't think that we need to do that."

  "Oh." The nurse looked at them both like they had two heads and walked away. "Okay, then."

  Other technicians came in to test Pete's blood. They hooked him up to monitors that beeped, and they taped things to his belly to keep track of his contractions. A doctor popped in to check on his progress and declared him to be "much farther along than expected," and then felt along his abdomen.

  The pain was so intense that Ozzy cried out from how hard Pete grabbed his hand. "Did that hurt?" the doctor asked, eyebrows drawing together.

  "Just a bit," Pete panted out, trying to get himself back under control. He could see and hear exactly how fast his heart was beating, thanks to the heart rate monitors. "It's not like there's a tiny giant trying to claw her way out of my body or anything."

  "He's got a point." Ozzy petted Pete's hair. Pete watched as his heart rate slowed just a bit.

  "Hm. Well, we can certainly get you an epidural, if that's something you want. Are you in a lot of pain in general, or is it just affecting you when someone touches your abdomen?" The doctor peered into his eyes.

  "Everything hurts," Pete admitted. "It's like a stabbing and burning pain, everywhere. Yeah, the belly's more than tender. It's my back, it's my hips, it's everything. I feel like I'm being pulled apart by horses, honestly."

  "Well, it's like I mentioned. Everything is moving very quickly, and your body doesn't have time to adjust to it like I'd usually like to see. I'll call someone from anesthesiology down to get you that epidural, and then you shouldn't have anything to worry about." The doctor touched his hand. "You're going to be all right, Mr. Nolan. It's all going to be all right." He stepped out into the hall.

  "Is it really that bad?" Ozzy kissed the side of his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Pete panted his way through another contraction and smiled up at his mate. "It's not like there's anything you could do about it. I didn't want you to worry."

  "Not true. I could raise a ruckus, get someone in here to give you an epidural." He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off of Pete's face. "There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you, babe. Nothing."

  The anesthesiologist came in to deliver the epidural. When Pete saw the size of the needle he almost passed out, but he rolled over and let the doctor do what he needed to do. It didn't feel good going in, that was for sure. He bit through his lip trying to hold back a shout, even though the pain from the needle was more of a minor note compared to the pain in the rest of him.

  It took about twenty minutes for the medication to kick in completely, by which point Pete thought he must be cracking teeth. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he whispered.

  "Nothing's wrong with you, babe." Ozzy stroked his face. "You're having a baby. That's perfectly normal."

  The doctor returned to the room. "That's the thing," Pete said, ignoring the doctor. "Thousands of guys every year have babies and they don't sit here and complain, and they don't crack their teeth from trying not to scream. They're fine. They do their thing, and they come out on the other side with a baby. Why am I the pathetic snowflake who needs an epidural and extra attention?"

  The doctor was an older man, and he reminded Pete a little bit of his father as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Mr. Norris, plenty of guys have had babies every year since the dawn of time. And do you want to know what happened before modern obstetric practices? They died a lot, Mr. Norris. It's a normal and natural procedure, of course, but lots of things are normal and natural processes that can still kill a person. Male hips, for example, are not designed to widen as female hips are. The pain you're feeling right now is a combination of normal childbirth pain, and your hips trying to essentially dislocate themselves. It's okay to admit that it hurts, okay? Also, your body has to rip itself a whole new orifice, which by the way, is not comfortable.

  "I get that it's presented to omegas, and to some extent to the outside world, as something beautiful and wonderful and amazing. And to some extent it is, because you're bringing a new life into the world. But it's excruciating, and it's dangerous. Don't let anyone tell you different, okay?"

  "Okay." Pete closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.

  "Good. Because it's time to push." The doctor got up and moved over to the foot of the bed, where all of the excitement was. "Press that button, would you?"

  Ozzy pressed the button for Pete, who went ahead and pushed. Pushing with the epidural still didn't feel great, but everything felt better than it had without the medicine.

  Nurses rushed in, and it was show time. Pete tried not to focus on them. He tried to focus on his breathing, and on pushing. If he stopped to think about all of the people looking at his bits,
he'd probably die of shame right there on the gurney.

  "Push again, Mr. Norris. There we go, just a little bit further, I think."

  Oh good Lord, did they really want more from him? He let his head fall back into Ozzy's lap and bore down as hard as he could manage. He didn't know if it would be enough, but he had to try.

  "Got her!" the doctor crowed. There was a vague tugging sensation, and then the doctor was holding an angry little baby up for his viewing pleasure.

  They whisked Marissa away to be checked and cleaned up and weighed. Pete lay on the gurney for a little while, while the doctor checked him for ill effects and waited for him to expel the afterbirth. Pete tried to relax, but he couldn't when he heard his daughter's angry cries. Whatever they were doing to her over in the corner, she didn't like it one bit.

  When the doctor brought Marissa back over, this time clean and swaddled, they handed her directly to him. She quieted down when Pete took her into his arms and held her close to his chest. When he brushed his little finger against her tiny hand, she grabbed it with a surprising grip. "You're perfect, Marissa," he told her, and kissed her little cheek. "You're absolutely perfect."

  Ozzy loomed over his shoulder, eyes enthralled. "Hi, baby girl. Welcome to the world."

  Pete rested his head against his mate's chest. "Hello, Marissa. This is your daddy. He loves you too. And he'll get to hold you just as soon as I can let you go." He chuckled. "Which won't be soon because you're amazing."

  He wasn't allowed to hold her forever. He got a few minutes of cuddling, and then it was time to make room for another new parent. Nurses came to put Marissa into a special, clear plastic bassinette with wheels. Other nurses came to clean Pete up, at least somewhat, and to get him into some scrubs. Then they put him onto another gurney and brought him to a small but private room where he was going to be allowed to recover.

  The room had a pullout chair for Ozzy to sleep on. Pete's own bed was ready for him, and he climbed into it gingerly and pulled the covers up. He let Ozzy put Marissa into his arms and give him a bottle from the samples provided by the hospital; he'd decided a long time ago that breast feeding was not a practical option for someone like him, so he wasn't going to try.

  Marissa drank down a little bit of her bottle—not much, but some, and even that much was impressive—and then she hunkered down for a nap right there against Pete's chest. Pete had to smile. There was no feeling in the world as beautiful as this.

  Ozzy used his phone to snap a picture. "How do you feel now?" he asked, stroking Pete's forehead.

  "Honestly?" Pete chuckled. "Sore. Like someone's stretched all of my limbs out of my sockets and they haven't quite gotten all the way back in. And, ah, I feel foul. Gross, you know? And there's shame, because I just had a bunch of strangers looking at me basically naked and touching my bits, which isn't high on my list of fun." He let out a contented sigh. "But I've got you, and I've got her. We're all together. I'm exhausted, but it's like… I'm in a good place, for all that."

  "Will she be Marissa Morris?" Ozzy asked, staring into Pete's eyes.

  "Yes." Pete blushed. "If that's what you want, something that you want to claim, then that's what I want too. Just… Ozzy, be sure."

  "I am perfectly sure. I might not have put her there, but I was there when she came into the world. And I'm going to be there every step of the way, from here until my last breath." Ozzy's jaw twitched.

  Tears sprang to Pete's eyes, and he knew that it wasn't just the result of hormonal fluctuations. "You are, without a doubt, the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me."

  "I think we've been pretty good for each other." Ozzy bent down and dropped a kiss onto Pete's forehead. "Sleep now. I'll hold her. You get your rest."

  Ozzy lifted Marissa off of Pete's chest and carried her over to the chair. The last thing that Pete saw before sleep claimed him was the image of his alpha and his daughter, curled up in the chair. Marissa seemed perfectly content to grab onto Ozzy, or at least didn't wake up and start howling.

  It was the same sight that greeted him two hours later, except his daughter was awake and being changed by Ozzy. From the looks of things, he was pretty good at it, too. "I had no idea that you knew how to change a diaper," Pete murmured from the comfort of his bed.

  "Oh honey. Wait until you see all of the things that I know." He waggled his eyebrows up and down. "I learned in the service. You never know what you're going to be called on to do. I've changed babies, I've delivered babies, I've fed them, and I've carried them out of combat zones. I'm your guy." He winked and gave Marissa a kiss.

  Marissa made a grumpy sound and waved her little fist at him.

  "I know, I know. You want to get back in your nice warm blanket. Here you go. Now that you're all clean and dry again, maybe your papa can give you something to drink while I go clean up.

  Pete took the baby and the bottle. He let himself smile as he watched Ozzy wash up at the sink. It might not be a big family, but it was his, and it was enough.

  ...

  Ozzy got a week of family leave time to spend with Pete and Marissa. They spent two nights of that time in the hospital.

  There was no part of Ozzy that didn't feel as though Marissa was his, not from the moment she emerged from Pete's agonized body. He had no biological children of his own, so he couldn't say for sure that the feeling was any different, but she'd always been part of the package with Pete. He felt the same kind of fierce need to protect her that he felt with Pete, that same kind of sense of family and pack and kinship.

  When the registrar from the hospital came to fill out the birth certificate, he kept a perfectly straight face when Pete identified him as the father and listed Marissa as Marissa Nolan Morris. It was technically illegal, but it was a literal fact. He was the baby's father in everything but genes, and that was what mattered.

  Pete recovered from the birth slowly but surely. He was able to take a shower that same night, with the help of a nurse. Ozzy would have preferred to be the one helping him, but Pete wanted him to stay with Marissa and keep an eye on her.

  When they got home from the hospital, Pete still moved a little stiffly, and of course he was still exhausted. He was better than he'd been in the days before the birth, though, and that was the important thing. They got settled back into the house, got Marissa adjusted to her new surroundings, and then they made their announcements.

  Once the announcement was made, the stream of visitors began. Cynthia was the first, in a surprise to both Ozzy and Pete. She didn't have a lot of interest in holding Marissa. She seemed to be almost afraid to hold her, as though she thought she might drop her. Angus seemed fascinated by his little niece, though, and was happy enough to hold her if he could sit on the couch and not be expected to move much.

  Of course, Angus struck Ozzy as the kind of guy who was usually content to sit on the couch if he wasn't expected to move much, so maybe there was something to that.

  Pete didn't have a lot of close friends. His job and the hours he kept made him a little bit of a loner, something to which Ozzy could certainly relate. He did have a lot of friendly colleagues, though, and a lot of them wanted to see the new arrival and wish her well. His most reliable local editors stopped by, which was how Ozzy wound up meeting the managing editors from the Globe, the Herald, and even the New York Times. Other local photographers stopped by too, and Ozzy was pretty sure that Cynthia was going to have a heart attack when her granddaughter grabbed the beard of a biker named Bruce and tried to swing from it.

  Bruce didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to love it.

  The house all but crawled with cops, too. The guys from SWAT showed up with bags upon bags of gifts. They brought clothes (Trust me, Morris, you can never have too many clothes, these kids, they will burn through every stitch) and they brought towels. They brought bibs, and sink top bathtubs. They brought toys, too, the kind that would stimulate Marissa's baby brain into flights of fancy.

  They brought gifts for the new pa
rents, too. They brought self-care baskets for Pete, with soothing creams and aromatherapy candles. They brought parenting books for Ozzy, along with baby bike seats and an extra sturdy baby carrier for the kind of hiking that Ozzy liked to do.

  And they brought a series of baby SWAT onesies, in progressive sizes. Everyone had a good laugh about that, except for Marissa, who slept through most of the visit.

  The guys from Cold Case all stopped by, although they came separately. Langer brought an offering of books for Marissa, which she wouldn't get so much benefit from now but would as she grew, and some decent bottles of wine for the parents. Nenci showed up with a box of thirty-one bibs, because sometimes people can't get to laundry the way the mommy blogs say, and two huge jugs of high quality rum for the parents.