Chapter Text
By the time the sky began turning that soft evening blue- the kind that melts slowly into lavender and gold-the park had started to thin out. The music was quieter now. The lights along the pathways flickered on one by one, glowing warm against the darkening sky. The roller coasters still roared, but the screams were less frequent, more scattered. Families drifted toward the exits with balloons tied to wrists, stuffed animals tucked under arms, and children half-asleep against shoulders.
Mateo was running on fumes.
He tried very hard not to show it.
As they walked toward the parking lot, he insisted he wasn’t tired, even as his steps slowed and his small fingers tightened around Amaro’s hand. His dinosaur shirt was wrinkled and dusted faintly with powdered sugar from earlier. His curls had completely surrendered to the day, wild and tangled from wind and sweat.
“You okay?” Amaro asked gently, glancing down.
“I’m not tired,” Mateo said immediately.
Amaro hummed softly. “Didn’t ask if you were.”
Mateo blinked at that, thinking.
“I’m just… resting my eyes when I blink.”
“Ah,” Amaro nodded solemnly. “Very serious condition.”
They reached the car, and Mateo climbed into his seat with far less energy than he’d had that morning. By the time Amaro had buckled him in and shut the door, Mateo’s head was already tipping slightly to the side.
“Still not tired?” Amaro teased quietly as he got into the driver’s seat.
Mateo mumbled something unintelligible.
The engine started. The parking lot lights blurred softly as they pulled away. Within five minutes, Mateo was completely asleep.
His head leaned against the side of the seat, mouth slightly open, curls falling over his forehead. One small hand was still loosely clutching the edge of his T-shirt as though he’d meant to say something and never quite got there.
Amaro glanced at him at a red light, his chest tightening in that familiar, aching way it always did when he looked at his son like that. “You had a good day, huh,” he murmured softly, even though Mateo couldn’t hear him.
The drive home was quiet.
When they pulled into the driveway, the house lights were already on, glowing warm through the windows. Amaro stepped out, walked around to the backseat, and carefully unbuckled Mateo.
The boy stirred faintly when lifted, instinctively curling into Amaro’s chest. His arms wrapped around Amaro’s neck without waking fully.
“I’ve got you,” Amaro whispered.
He carried him inside slowly, mindful not to jostle him. The house was calm and quiet,no TV, no music. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint creak of the floorboards.
Mateo’s room smelled faintly of laundry detergent and that sweet, warm scent kids seem to carry after long days. Amaro laid him gently on the bed, easing his sneakers off and tugging his socks away. Mateo barely moved, just shifted with a soft sigh.
Amaro pulled the blanket up over him, smoothing it across his small frame.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Mateo’s temple.
“Goodnight, champ.”
Mateo made a soft noise in his sleep, something almost like “love you.”
Amaro’s throat tightened.
He turned off the lamp and stepped quietly out, closing the door halfway.
The hallway light spilled softly into the bedroom.
Lynn was already in bed.
He was propped slightly against the pillows, hair loose and soft around his face. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across his features, and when he looked up at Amaro, there was a sleepy smile there that made something in Amaro immediately settle.
“Hey,” Lynn said quietly.
“Hey.”
Amaro stepped closer, taking him in fully. Lynn looked tired, but not anxious. Not tense. Just warm and soft and at ease.
“How was he?” Lynn asked gently.
“Gone before we hit the main road,” Amaro replied with a small smile. “Didn’t stand a chance.”
Lynn huffed softly. “He had fun?”
“Best day of his life, apparently.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“He’s five.”
Lynn smiled faintly at that.
Amaro disappeared briefly into the bathroom to change, swapping his T-shirt for a softer one and pulling off his jeans. When he came back, he didn’t hesitate, he slid into bed and immediately wrapped himself around Lynn.
Fully.
One arm around his waist. The other sliding under the pillow. He pressed kisses along Lynn’s cheek, his temple, down the side of his jaw. Slow, affectionate, grounding.
Lynn laughed quietly. “Okay. Hi.”
Amaro didn’t stop. “Hi.”
Another kiss. And another.
“You’re so clingy,” Lynn murmured, though he was already turning more fully into him.
“I have reason to be.”
Lynn shifted so they were chest to chest. Their legs tangled naturally, comfortably.
There was a long pause where they just looked at each other.
“We’re having another baby,” Lynn said softly, like he was still testing the words.
Amaro’s hand slid down instinctively to rest against Lynn’s stomach. It was still soft. Still the same.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We are.”
Lynn swallowed slightly. “That feels… big.”
“It is a huge thing.”
They lay there for a moment, absorbing it.
“How was your day?” Amaro asked gently.
Lynn exhaled. “Fawkes was calm. Which helped. He checked everything like blood pressure, urine, bloodwork, the usual. He said it looks normal. Around six weeks.”
Amaro nodded slowly. “Good.”
“I was so worried it was something else,” Lynn admitted. “I don’t know why I immediately assume the worst.”
“Because you care,” Amaro said simply.
Lynn traced idle patterns against Amaro’s chest. “I kept thinking about Mateo. And how different this feels.”
“Different doesn’t mean wrong,” Amaro replied quietly.
“That’s what Fawkes said.”
“He’s a smart man.”
There was another pause.
Then Amaro shifted slightly, his tone changing.
“By the way,” he said casually, “you’re not working.”
Lynn blinked. “What?”
“You’re not working.”
“At the club?”
“At all.”
Lynn stared at him. “Amaro-”
“No.”
“Amaro.”
“No,” he repeated firmly. “You’re six weeks pregnant. You’re actually having symptoms. You work late hours in a loud, crowded club.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“For two shifts before I cut you off.”
Lynn frowned slightly. “I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t need to work,” Amaro said, softer but steady. “I own the place. You don’t need to stand on your feet all night around flashing lights and drunk people.”
“I like bartending.”
“I know you do.”
Lynn sighed. “You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not,” Amaro replied gently. “It’s not just about you being tired. Stress, lack of sleep-it affects you. It affects the baby.”
Lynn hesitated.
“And I did this when you were pregnant with Mateo,” Amaro continued. “You fought me then too.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Correct.”
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Lynn’s lips.
“You’re not working,” Amaro repeated softly. “At least for now. Rest. Let your body do what it needs to do.”
Lynn stared at him for a long moment.
Then he exhaled.
“…I probably will need the rest,” he admitted quietly. “Growing a baby is… a lot.”
Amaro’s expression softened immediately. “It must be.”
“Plus, I have so much to figure out,” Lynn continued, voice quieter now. “Giving birth. Again. Names. How we’re going to tell Mateo. How we’re going to handle two kids.”
“We just found out,” Amaro reminded him gently. “Half of that comes way later.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“It does,” Amaro insisted softly. “We’ve done this before. You know what you’re doing.”
Lynn sighed, but this time it wasn’t anxious. It was tired. He pressed closer, tucking his face into Amaro’s neck.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “We have.”
Amaro tightened his arms around him instinctively.
After a moment, Lynn spoke again, voice softer.
“I’m excited, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A small smile curved against Amaro’s skin. “I remember when Mateo first kicked. It felt so weird. But good.”
Amaro’s hand remained resting lightly over Lynn’s stomach.
“I’m excited for that,” Lynn continued. “And the ultrasounds. And seeing them move on the screen.”
“You cried last time.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“Okay, maybe a little, but you did too.”
Amaro smiled into his hair.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said quietly. “We all are.”
Lynn tilted his head up slightly, meeting his eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
They stayed like that for a long while, legs tangled, breaths slowly syncing. The house was quiet. Mateo asleep down the hall. The future stretching out in ways that felt overwhelming and beautiful all at once.
Amaro pressed one last lingering kiss to Lynn’s forehead.
“Try and rest,” he murmured.
Lynn’s eyes were already half-closed. “Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And wrapped around each other in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, with the weight of the day finally settling, they drifted into sleep, together, steady, and quietly hopeful