[FIC] RPF: signal fire [2/2]
part one
It was a day before the official promotions for Return of the King began, and there was a reunion party with the cast that hadn’t seen each other in somewhere between a few months to a few years. Fran was the one who organised it, saying that the camaraderie between the cast was a big draw the last two times and it would be good to make sure that it was still there. Privately, Viggo thought that this cast had taken any chance for a party while filming, and this was as good an excuse as any.
Sean and Viggo were sequestered in a corner of the big room that Barry had rented for the party, with Sean sitting down because his back was killing him and Viggo sipping water next to him. They had both been teased for not drinking, but Viggo had just lifted an eyebrow and even Karl shut up after a while.
Elijah was the first to figure it out.
He dragged a chair over and sat next to them. Viggo didn’t mind. The three of them had built a pretty good relationship during filming, because Sean had driven off any overzealous Beta or Alpha who had tried to hit on Elijah, and after Sean had left, Viggo had taken over. The younger man was almost family to them now, and Viggo had missed him.
It didn’t mean they expected his question, though.
“So,” Elijah began after draining a far too colourful drink that only Dom could have mixed for him. “When are you going to tell all of us that you’re going to have a baby?”
Sean nearly choked on air. Viggo just stared at him before shrugging.
“Probably during promotions,” he said. “Or afterwards. We have an interview planned in January to announce the news, and honestly, we’d like to get to tell you guys before then.”
“How do you know?” Sean’s eyes were wide.
Elijah gave him a flat stare. “I’m an Omega, Sean. I’ve had drilled into me every possible symptom of pregnancy because even though I don’t want to, everyone tells me that eventually I will.” He shrugged, “The water is kind of the killer for me.”
“… Really?”
“Well,” Elijah shrugged. “You ran off when the lobster’s brought out, you’re sitting down, Viggo’s been hovering over you the whole time since the two of you arrived… Plus,” he grinned suddenly. “Peter is terrible at keeping secrets. He’s been shooting you concerned glances the whole night.”
“We told him a couple of days ago,” Viggo said quietly. “Sean’s coming with me during promotions, and I’m not going to lie to Peter about why I’m backing out of the tail end of things.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone else who would notice,” Elijah said, pitching his voice even lower, trying to soothe. “Well, maybe Dave because his wife is an Omega, but that’s a really big maybe. Most Betas don’t notice these things.”
He shook his head. “Anyway, Orlando’s been ranting to me about the two of you keeping secrets and how worried he is for you,” he nodded at Sean, smirking slightly, “When you tell him, can I be there?
Sean and Viggo looked at each other, and they laughed. Sean shook his head, “Try ta pretend that you’re hearin’ it for the first time, alrigh’?”
“I’ll do my best,” Elijah gave them a little salute and wandered off.
Barely a moment later, Ian dropped onto the chair. Viggo stepped forward instinctively, his hand clenching against the back of Sean’s chair before he recognised Ian, calmed himself down, and took a step back. Ian watched the whole display with a small, knowing smile.
“So our artist has the bite of the wolf,” he said, sipping at his margarita. It was probably made by Dom: it was bright, emerald green. “How are you feeling, Sean?”
“If one more person asks me that question, I’ll chop their fuckin’ balls off,” Sean rolled his eyes. “I’m fine; I ain’t some kind of delicate flower who is going to break because the kid’s too damn heavy or somethin’.”
Ian raised a fine, pale eyebrow. “I didn’t realise you’ve told so many people that you’re getting bombarded with questions.”
“It’s his girls,” Viggo put in, quirking his lips upwards. “They’ve been bugging him for daily updates on little brother since we told them last month.”
“A son?”
“Yeah,” Sean said. “Haven’t got an ultrasound since the first time when a doctor checked me over, but I’m a hundred percent sure.”
“Don’t ask why. Just go with it.”
But Ian was staring at him. He looked around himself before leaning in and hissing his next works, “You haven’t had a medical checkup?”
“I did,” Sean said defensively, draining his glass of water. “A month half or so ago. The doc said things are going fine, so I ain’t goin’ again. No matter ‘ow much the bastard bugs me ‘bout it.” He paused, then shrugged. “We’re going on a tour, so it ain’t like I can keep doctor appointments anyway.”
Ian frowned, tapping at his own lip, “Peter might allow my physician to come with me if I make a small fuss.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, “You have a tokologist?”
“General practitioner,” Ian sighed.
“Then bringing an ultrasound along will raise too many questions,” Sean said. His hand fell to his stomach for a moment before he shoved it to lay flat against the out of the chair. “I’ll be fine. Vig’s been readin’ way too many books.” He paused.
“I’ll figure it out,” Viggo said, his hand curling around Sean’s on the chair arm. Though his voice was soft there was a determination and authority there that made him such a good Aragorn-he had never been a showy Alpha, but authority came easily to him without any need for bluster or declarations. Ian had always admired that about him.
“I know you will,” he said, looking at the both of them for a long moment before he pursed his lips. “Stonewall will be ready.”
“Who is on our side?” Viggo’s eyes were narrowed, but he was looking inwards.
Ian shrugged, smiling wryly, “Non-breeding couples. The loud activists-myself included-are male Alphas, but our majority members are still Betas of both sexes. There are even Omegas. Homohierarchal relationships are still looked down upon, even though only Alphas have to deal with illegalities. The stereotypes of Alphas being role models and leaders of societies and hence held to a completely different standard still hold. But if we think about it, it’s counterintuitive that those who are supposed to rule are now the ones prosecuted.”
“This is all too fuckin’ complicated,” Sean complained. He had wrapped both arms around himself, resting them above the small bump of his abdomen. “It ain’t the government’s damn business to decide who we want ta fuck.”
“My existence is still technically illegal,” Viggo said, smiling wryly. “Both my parents are Alphas.”
“Bullshit,” Sean said succinctly. He reached out for Viggo’s hand, pressing a kiss onto the back of it. “We’ll change things. Just you see.”
Ian didn’t stop his soft, wistful smile. There would always be a part of him that envied them-that they were able to find each other and fight out of the boxes that society placed them in.
If only he had been born a few decades later.
***
Sean closed his eyes, placing his head against the glass window of the car, “It’s too damn late ta back out now, ain’t it?”
Viggo made a small sound of agreement. They had decided on an interview with People, and apparently the reporter was already there, so really, the question was asked not for confirmation but reassurance. He knew that, reaching out and wrapped his arm around Sean’s stomach, stroking against it. Sean was dressed in a comfortable cashmere sweater-proper button-down shirts were far too rough against his skin right now-and Viggo rubbed against the curve of his stomach and pressed a kiss against his temple.
“This is fuckin’ stupid.”
“I know,” Viggo said softly. “But I refuse to hide, love. I refuse to claim that Julian is anyone else’s child. I refuse to let unreasonable laws stop me for proclaiming my love for you from the rooftops. I want to be able to go out in public and for everyone to look at you and know that you are mine and you’re carrying my baby.”
“Possessive bastard,” Sean smirked, turning around. He kissed Viggo gently against the lips and hated that the windows of this car was tinted. Let everyone gawk. Let them see. Sean had had three failed relationships but he had found Viggo-there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He just hadn’t found anyone right for him until now, that was all. He closed his eyes. “You’re the best damn thing that has happened to me.”
“Even though I might’ve ruined your career by knocking you up?” Sean could feel Viggo smile against his skin.
Sean snorted quietly, “Keyword’s ‘might’, yeah? Let’s not count the chickens before they ‘atch, aye.” He paused, and chuckled. “I shouldn’t use that damn cliché right now.”
“Are you calling our son a chicken?”
There was a moment of silence before Sean burst out laughing, the lines around his eyes crinkling. Viggo couldn’t help but smile as well, stealing a kiss.
“Have you told Wolfgang about not going for the Troy promotions yet?”
“Yeah,” Sean sighed. “He gave me a ten minutes lecture about the responsibilities of an actor and the chances of the Odyssey being filmed, etc, etc. I told ‘im I had a really good reason that he should wait fer tomorrow’s news.”
Viggo shook his head, “Orlando can manage him.”
The car was slowing and pulling up. Sean turned just as his agent knocked on the partition. “Much as I think the PDA is good for publicity, I’d rather the two of you do that after the interview. Are you finished?”
“Yeah,” Sean said, straightening up. He hissed out a soft breath as Julian kicked him against the spine. Viggo’s hand immediately moved to the small of his back, soothing and warm as he gently rubbed against the knot never seemed to go away. “Yeah, we’re done.”
“Let go.”
They had booked one of the penthouse suites at the hotel and the carpark was entirely blocked off for today, but Sean tensed still, hyperaware of any eyes that might be looking at him. He hated these things; hated the media circus that came with acting. He only ever just wanted to act and not be a celebrity, but nowadays the two went hand in hand, and though he might be used to it, he still hated it.
Viggo got out of the car first, but Sean batted his hand away and stepped out on his own. He let Viggo take his elbow, his other hand flattening against the curve of his stomach. As always, he pushed away the bit of worry-he was seven months along but he still showed very little. Julian was incredibly active though, and Sean really wouldn’t want to see a doctor who would use him as a labrat-not now, not in America or Britain. Maybe when they got to Europe; Viggo said he had found a doctor there.
Sean took a deep breath and went in to face the music.
***
Lord of the Rings have made Viggo Mortensen into an international star, and Sean Bean has been a household name in Britain since Sharpe and GoldenEye. Most reporters will kill to have an interview with either one of them, and I can’t believe that they purposefully called me up for one. My job is to write, but I can’t find the words that explain my nervousness and excitement when they arrived. I clutch my pen and paper.
“It’s not like either of you to call for an interview,” I start. “Both of you have a reputation for avoiding publicity unless it is for the promotion for your movies. Is this about Return of the King?”
“No,” Mortensen says calmly. If one sees one on the streets, one will peg him for a Beta-but right now, sitting opposite him, there is no doubt that this is truly the Man who would be King. He radiates confidence and authority.
I ask them about the rumours going on about Bean’s appearance during the Return of the King promotions.
“That’s part of this, yeah,” Bean says. He looks at Mortensen and takes a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”.
My pen stills, and I am unashamed to say that I gaped.
“You’re coming out as a...” I can’t say it. There is nothing about this man that suggests in any way that he’s not an Alpha.
“No,” Bean says firmly. “I’m an Alpha alright, a male Alpha.” He looks at Mortensen, and Mortensen links their hands together.
“We’re together,” Mortensen says. “We have been together for over three years at this point, and he’s going to have my child. That’s what we called this interview for.”
“What about the rumours about you and Lola Schnabel?”
“False.”
I open my mouth to ask about Bean’s ex-wives.
“Look,” Bean interrupts. “None of us are suddenly homosexual or homohierarchal. We loved our wives. We love each other, and we’re going to have a baby. That’s all there is to it.”
“Homosexual, double-Alpha relationships are still illegal in both Britain and the United States,” I say instead. “What do you think about that issue, given your circumstances?”
Mortensen leans forward. “The primary rejection of homohierarchal relationships, especially double-Alpha relationships, is that there is rarely any breeding potential. I’m a child of two Alpha parents myself, which should already prove the theory dead wrong forty years ago. The fact that it hasn’t is less a problem of my existence than a problem of common understanding.”
He shakes his head, “What is more important, however, is that I don’t believe firstly, that the government has the right to try to restrict who we love. Secondly, we are humans who have been developing our civilisations for thousands of years-I’d like to believe that if I choose to be with someone, it is for the sake of love rather than because I want to have the best children with that person.”
“What about the views of the religious groups?”
“I don’t try to dictate what they believe,” Mortensen says with perfect calm. “I’d like them to not dictate what I should do in my personal life.”
“This is going to be quite a piece of news to the fans of both of you. Do you have anything specific to say to them?”
They look at each other for a long moment, and any suspicion I have about their claims is washed away in that instant when I notice the way they look at each other. Bean turns to me.
“We’re happy,” he says. “We’d like them to be happy for us.”
We talk after that of their future plans. Both Bean and Mortensen have movies coming up-Troy for Bean, with Brad Pitt, Eric Bana, Diane Kruger and fellow Lord of the Rings alumnus Orlando Bloom, and Hidalgo for Mortensen, alongside Omar Sharif. After the interview, Mortensen goes for a smoke, and I follow him.
“I stopped when Henry was born,” referring to his Alpha son with X rocker and Alpha Exene Cervenka, “but I started up again later. I’m trying to quit permanently this time.” He shrugs.
I ask him why they have decided to come out publicly about the relationship.
“If we don’t, then we’ll be hiding,” he says. “I refuse to hide, because hiding implies that I’m ashamed of our relationship and what we have, which I most assuredly am not. Make this clear: I’m not trying to make a political statement through my personal life, but if we don’t say something, then we either have to have our child grow up in a place away from home, or we will have to lie. In the best case scenario, Sean will have to adopt his own child because it is illegal to list a male Alpha as the bearer. Fifteen years ago, it was any Alpha. I refuse to lie back and allow this to happen.”
He turns to me. “The world calls Alphas the rulers and holds them to hypocritical standards. I’m not saying that Alphas are the most prosecuted of all the hierarchies or sexes-I know that I’m privileged-but if there is to be true equality, Alphas have to be dragged down from the caged pedestal that they’re placed on.”
***
Viggo had found a house in Portugal. It was more of a cottage really, with only two rooms-one for the temporary nursery that they had haphazardly fixed up-a kitchen, and a hall. It wasn’t situated at a remote place-it was only a fifteen minutes drive to a mall, and ten minutes to the tokologist’s-but the neighbours all know how to mind their own business. It also has a garden at the back for Sean to tinker with, because Viggo knew his lover well.
Sean was just finishing up with it. It was difficult to think of anything to do in the garden when he was almost as big as the house they were living in-it was almost a relief when he expanded like a balloon last month-and they weren’t going to stay long here. He missed his house and garden in London with a deep ache within him, but he knew that it would be sheer idiocy to go back now. They would be hounded by paparazzi no matter where they went-not just paparazzi, but activists and politicians and God knew who else, all of them wanting a sound-bite or to tell them that what they were doing was wrong.
His stomach cramped at the thought and Sean sighed. He rubbed against it with his knuckles, trying to soothe the muscles beneath the skin. The cramps had been coming on and off for hours now, and he was getting really irritated by it. The tokologist-he finally started seeing a specialist for a bearer’s reproductive system, and he received a massive lecture for not going for monthly check-ups and only Viggo stopped the two of them from getting into a shouting match-told him that those were normal. Fake contractions because his body need practice or something. Usually he barely noticed, but these were getting to the point of actually annoying the hell out of him this time.
The next one shifted from annoying to painful, and he inhaled sharply, slamming a hand against the ground. It felt like there was a fist that clamped around his entire pelvis, squeezing so hard that it spread even to his thighs, all of his muscles clenching up. Sean closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, curling an arm around his stomach. The cramp lasted longer than the last one, and he dropped his head back with his next breath. Hand still against the ground, he waited until the cramp had faded before slowly pushing himself upwards, shoulders tense and as he started counting the seconds.
Shit.
Julian kicked him in response and Sean laughed quietly to himself, walking towards the kitchen door. It was good to know the kid’s with him on this, even if it seemed like he was berating his father for his language.
He slammed his hand against the frame as the next one practically bowled him over, clenching his hand against the wood as he breathed hard through his teeth. It wasn’t supposed to come this fast. He had lost count already, but it couldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to stand up and walk across the garden to the porch. This wasn’t good- and Sean bit down on his own lip, using the stinging pain to distract him from the contractions-yeah, he wasn’t stupid, he knew that these weren’t cramps-until they ended. Then he went for his mobile.
First speed dial. Damn Viggo for choosing now to drive forty minutes out to meet their agents. Sean knew what the reasons were-to stop the paparazzi from finding them-and they didn’t expect it to happen today. He had two more weeks to go.
“Vig,” he said, teeth gritted, when Viggo finally picked it up at the third ring. “Get your ass back ‘ere. Now.”
To his credit, Viggo didn’t ask any stupid questions. “Can you get the bag?”
Sean considered. He thought about the distance from the kitchen to the bedroom and he almost said yes before another contraction ripped through him. He had to bite back a scream and his mind blanked out completely under the onslaught of pain.
“That’s a no,” Viggo said, and Sean could just hear him starting to run. “Where are you? I’ll call the doctor so she’s ready for us, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“In the kitchen. Don’t get into an accident,” Sean said when he was sure he could speak again. He decided not to mention that the contractions were coming so fast that it was starting to scare the hell out of him. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he didn’t want Viggo to get into an accident. He took a deep breath. “Alpha, remember? ‘igh pain thresholds.”
“Exene broke my wrist when she was in labour, and I know how you sound like when you’re trying to make me feel better about something,” in the background, Sean could hear the car door slam. Viggo’s voice softened. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. Just hold on until I get there.”
“Easy fer you ta say,” Sean snorted as he walked towards the large kitchen table, dropping down to a chair. He let his head fall onto the table. “I’m ‘anging up. Concentrate on the road. Yer a fuckin’ American; it’s on the wrong side.”
Viggo laughed. “I love you,” he said.
Sean hung up and let the phone drop from his fingers. He closed his eyes and supposed that he should try counting now. Mel told him that he should do that once he was in labour-after she laughed and told him that once he went through it he would understand why she was always so angry when he decided to leave their girls. He concentrated on that; on counting the contractions and the space between them. They really should have installed a clock of some sort in the kitchen.
He didn’t know how much time had passed with him sitting there, counting and trying to breathe. The contractions came approximately every four and a half minutes by now, and he knew it wasn’t normal. Both of Mel’s labours were much, much slower, and Abby had contractions for an entire day before she noticed them and told him about it. This didn’t even feel normal, and he really should distract himself before he started hyperventilating.
Before he could stop himself, he reached for his cell and called Mel.
“… Sean?” Mel sounded bewildered and half-awake when she picked up the call.
“Yeah,” he said, and he exhaled. There wouldn’t be another contraction for another four and a half minutes. He could do this. He swallowed. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t call for small talk,” she said, and he could almost see her narrowing her eyes at him. “… Are you alright? You sound winded.”
“I think I’m in labour,” he admitted. He swallowed. “And it’s fast, it’s so damn fast that I’m getting’ fuckin’ scared. Jesus, Mel, why didn’t you tell me it hurts so fuckin’ much?”
“Fast?” Mel’s voice sharpened suddenly. “How fast?”
“Four and a half minutes- shit,” he stopped breathing completely, hunching forward with his arm around his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he could barely hear Mel telling him something, but it was drowned out by his loud countdown and the roar of blood in his ears.
“-the, breathe,” Mel was telling him, and he could tell that she was using the same voice she used on the girls when she was scared stiff and she didn’t want them to know about it. “Breathe, Sean. Remember those classes you went with me? Breathe through the pain.”
“Make that four-seventeen. ’ow the fuck could you do this twice?”
“Lorna wanted a sibling and we wanted to try for a son,” her voice rang with amusement. It was gone with her next question, “Where’s Viggo, Sean?”
“’e ‘ad a meetin’,” Sean said, leaning back against the chair and staring at the ceiling. His back was killing him. “Called ‘im when this first started, but he’s forty minutes away.”
“… Sean, are you telling me that your contractions are four and a half minutes apart after half an hour? Less?”
“Yeah,” he breathed out.
“You’re having a damn fast labour, but that’s obvious enough. Heck, Sean, nothing ever goes normally for you, does it?” he could hear her smile and he couldn’t help the tired smile back even though he knew she couldn’t see it. The divorce might have been a horrible experience, but she had James now and they were far happier together than Sean and Mel had been. Nowadays, they were good friends. Mel had seen him at his best and his worst, and there was nothing he could hide from her.
“Tell me ‘bout me girls, Mel?”
“Alright,” she said, and he could hear her drop into a chair and starting to talk. Sean closed his eyes and just listened, counting down at the back of his mind. He gritted his teeth but let go when she told him to breathe, and he didn’t feel the hand in his hair and the other one that took away the phone until the contraction faded.
“Thanks, Mel,” Viggo was saying. “Yeah, tell the girls-can you tell Evie and Abby too? Of course we’ll let you see him; if Britain hasn’t changed the laws I’ll give you all the Portugal address so you can come down. I’ll confirm with you later-I have to hang up now. This one’s over, I think.”
Viggo turned to him, standing up and pressing a soft kiss against Sean’s hair. He had the bag on one arm and he was barefoot. He probably left his shoes at… whatever it was that he was at before he rushed back home.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was coming this fast?”
“You were drivin’,” Sean said, and he hissed as he tried to stand up. “Didn’t want ta worry you.”
“It’s my job to be worried,” Viggo said, and he wrapped his arm around Sean’s waist, taking all of his weight. “It’s the stereotype of the Alpha sire, remember? The one who sits around and frets and has his hand grabbed at.”
“Don’t make me laugh, you bastard,” Sean inhaled, pushing himself up. The moment he did, he felt something inside him give way, and his sweatpants were suddenly soaked. He blinked, looking down, and rubbed at his face. “I ‘aven’t done that since I was four.”
“Five for me,” Viggo grinned, and they started to hobble towards the car. Sean was still counting in his head, and when the next contraction came, he threw his arms around Viggo and bit down on his shirt. Viggo held him tight, still holding onto most of his weight, stroking his back.
He breathed. “Let’s go,” he said, straightening up.
Viggo looked at him for a moment, as if to argue, before nodding sharply.
They went.
***
It was as if Julian knew when it was alright for him to come, because three minutes after they reached the hospital, the contractions sped up even more. Now they seemed to be on top of each other and Sean was just aware of waves and waves of pain, like a series of tides. Viggo was next to him, holding tightly to his hand, and Sean focused on that touch.
Right now, if there was anything more undignified than an examination table with stirrups on its side and butcher paper lining the metal, Sean couldn’t think of it. At least he was kneeling up on it instead of lying on his back, biting back the instinctive urge to push. He wanted to, it felt right that he should, but the doctor told him to wait-she had to do an ultrasound. He knew that didn’t mean anything good, but he only hissed quietly when he felt the cool gel on his skin instead of complaining.
“We have to do a caesarean,” the doctor said, and beneath the calm of her voice was a sharp note of worry. Sean opened his eyes.
“What? Why?” Viggo asked his question for him.
“The cord’s looped around the baby’s neck twice. I can try to slip it over him, but it looks to be too tightly around his neck.” She took a breath, “And he’s already starting to move downwards. If that carries on, the cord is going to- strangle him. I have to do it now.”
Sean took a deep breath and pushed away the pain as much as he could. He took a deep breath, “Give me an epidural.” Like hell he was going to be unconscious when his son was born. He was going to be awake and holding him and nothing was going to stop him.
The doctor shook a head, “It will take far too long. I can’t let the baby move further down. I have to put you under general anaesthetic.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping tight to Viggo’s hand. There was nothing he could say even though he wanted to rail and shout and scream from the pain and the frustration. It was just one thing he wanted and he couldn’t have it.
“Put him under,” Viggo said, his hand cupped Sean’s neck. He tilted his head down. Sean opened his eyes to meet Viggo’s gaze, holding it. “You’ll see him the moment you open your eyes,” Viggo murmured. “I promise you that.”
Sean reached forward, grabbing hold of Viggo’s shirt and kissing him bruisingly hard, gasping into his mouth through another contraction, struggling against the urge to push. At the same time, he could feel a prick against his elbow, but he fought the darkness.
“Julian Richard,” he stressed the next word, every damn syllable, “Mortensen.”
Then he closed his eyes.
***
There was a damn irritating beeping in his ear. Sean tried to lift his arm to shove it off-this was why alarm clocks didn’t work very well with him-but something was stopping him. It felt like there was something pressing against his arm- into his skin, and Sean tried to frown but his face didn’t seem to work very well either. He tried to open his eyes, but everything went grey for a moment so he closed them. It wasn’t long before he drifted off again.
The next time he woke up, he was first aware that his mouth felt like something had died in it. Then he felt something over his face, covering his nose and mouth. The thing in his arm was still there and it was still annoying. There was also a fog that seemed to surround his head completely. Sean tried to blink, but opening his eyes was too difficult. It was far too bright and he squeezed his eyes shut, frowning.
“Hey,” he heard a voice, and there was a hand against his cheek. “You awake?”
Sean tried to open his eyes again, and this time it was far less bright. There was something right over his eyes and he tried to get his vision to stop blurring and focus faster. He could feel Viggo’s hand around his own and he squeezed it, shaking his head to try to dislodge whatever plastic thing that was around his mouth.
Viggo pulled away for a moment and the light rushed in. Sean squeezed his eyes shut again, and he didn’t see who reached out and took the oxygen mask off of his face. It wasn’t Viggo: the skin was colder- and Viggo’s hand was on his lip, and there was something icy brushing against his mouth. A piece of ice? Sean opened his mouth slightly, taking the ice chips that Viggo was feeding him and letting them melt against his dry tongue. He swallowed the water, and the dead rat feeling of his throat faded with every single piece.
“Up,” he said, and he was surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.
“Hold on.”
Sean turned his head. There was a fuzzy female body at the edge of his vision, and he could suddenly feel the bed tilting, letting him sit upwards.
He was still trying to figure out why on Earth he was on a bed. It had been a really long time since he had gotten into hospital-in fact, the last few times he was here were entirely for someone else’s sake. It felt like he had surgery and stitches- Sean ripped his hand away from Viggo’s to flatten out against his stomach. Not completely flat yet, but definitely empty- he shook his head hard, feeling a headache start behind his eyes, but his vision cleared faster. It must be the adrenaline.
“The baby?” His voice sounded as if he ran through it with sandpapers.
“Patience,” Viggo chided gently, and he pushed against Sean’s chest with a hand. It was cold and a little wet. “Lie back.”
Sean did. He felt Viggo settle down next to him. “Here,” Viggo said. “I promised.”
Held safely in Viggo’s arm was a small bundle of fluffy blue cloth. Sean pulled at his hand, but the IV refused to budge, so he reached out with the other hand, pulling the cloth back. Their son had a small, downy patch of blond hair and what he could tell to be the beginning of Viggo’s cheekbones. Sean stroked his hand against a milk-smooth cheek, barely daring to breathe. Julian shifted in his blankets, blinking open his eyes-and Sean knew that most newborns took time to develop the colour of their eyes, but he recognised that colour immediately.
“He ‘as yer eyes,” Sean said, his voice hoarse and full of wonder. He turned to Viggo. “Christ, Vig, he ‘as yer eyes.”
Julian wriggled a little at the new voice, his small fists peeking out of the blankets. His mouth opened in a yawn before he settled down, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.
“Here,” Viggo urged, nudging Sean gently with his shoulder. “Hold him.”
There were some things a person never forgot. He curled his arms automatically, taking Julian into his arms. The stitches around his belly flared sharply in pain, but Sean ignored it, utterly captivated by the sight of his baby son. Then he laid Julian gently down on the bed, near to his IV-captured wrist, and tugged at the blankets to loosen them. Viggo laid his hands over Sean’s for a moment, catching his eyes, and Sean pulled away and pulled his hospital gown open.
“I want ta see and feel ‘im properly,” he said.
Viggo just gave him a smile and tugged Julian free of his blankets, “You don’t have to explain to me.”
Sean reached forward immediately, lifting the baby up very carefully and placing him against his own skin. Julian felt soft and incredibly warm, his diaper scratchy and dry against Sean’s skin. He immediately turned towards Sean, seeking out his heartbeat, and Sean leaned down and kissed against baby-soft hair.
He felt Viggo sit back down on the bed, leaning back against his chest when Viggo pulled him close. Sean turned his head and kissed him.
“What’s ‘is name?” he murmured.
“Like you said,” Viggo said, his words muffled against Sean’s mouth. “Julian Richard Mortensen. He’s going to have triple nationality, you know?”
“Good,” Sean said, closing his eyes. “We can come ‘ere more often.”
He was still in pain and the morphine was making almost everything a little fuzzy; he knew that there was a world out there that still didn’t accept his relationship and his family. But all of that could go to hell for the moment, because Sean didn’t care-he had his son, he had his lover, and he was content.
***
The things happened at the same time: Sean’s phone rang, and Julian started crying.
Sean swore under his breath, pushing himself out of the bed and grabbing his phone, going into the next room and switching it on. Viggo watched him for a moment before he got out of bed as well, heading to Julian’s crib and picking up their son.
They had moved the crib from the nursery to the bedroom after the second day, because they could barely get the boy to sleep. Julian was a restless child, prone to fussing and crying when he wasn’t being held. Even when his diapers were dry and he was just fed, he would still fuss unless one of his fathers picked him up and held him. Any sound that wasn’t their voices would make him cry, and Viggo might have a large amount of patience, but it was fraying.
It didn’t help that they still couldn’t go back home-to either homes. The debates still raged on, and even though Viggo expected that-it would take more than two months for a bunch of politicians to shut up and make a reasonable decision-emotionally it was far harder to accept. Ian was emailing him weekly updates about the situation, but Viggo hadn’t the energy to even drag himself out of the bed and out of sight of Julian’s crib for days now. He couldn’t imagine how Sean was feeling. At least he had bullied the other man into taking naps whenever Julian was sleeping. Thank God neither of them had work right now.
According to their agents, Sean and he had been offered up to five million dollars for the first pictures of their son, but both of them had refused adamantly. Money wasn’t a problem, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to become tabloid fodder when he wasn’t even a month old yet. Even though there were times when he was incredibly frustrated that it took so long for him to find some success with his career, he was thankful of it now-thankful that his lack of fame had kept his relationship with Exene and Henry completely out of the public’s eye.
“Such a spoiled princeling,” he tutted under his breath, chucking Julian underneath the chin. His own blue eyes stared back at him, unblinking before Julian hiccupped just once and settled back down amongst his blankets. A small fist poked out and Viggo stroked against the soft skin with a finger, which Julian grabbed immediately. He scrunched his eyes shut and wriggled a little more into his blankets, his fist waving in the air without letting go of Viggo’s finger.
Viggo chuckled to himself, lifting the baby up to kiss right against the furrowed brows. Damn the boy; he was too adorable for Viggo to be angry at him. Then he looked up as Sean came back into the room, tossing his phone onto the bed.
“What happened?”
“Bay called,” Sean said, sitting down on the bed with a small wince. The staples across his stomach were still there, and the incision had only just begun to heal. “’e said that ‘e’s been fightin’ with the damn producers, that’s why he ‘aven’t called. Told me that he still wants me fer Merrick.”
Sean heaved a sigh, “But Merrick’s character is bein’ rewritten. If Bay’s ‘aving me fer ‘im, then producers are goin’ ta ‘ave ‘im be a Beta. Not an Alpha.” He paused. “Filming starts in a month. Two days after I get ta ‘ave these little bastards,” he brushed against his belly, “taken out.”
Viggo watched him for a long moment. He wanted to ask if Sean would be alright; if he had enough time to recover by then. But he knew Sean’s pride, so he only nodded, “I’ll come with you.” He gives Sean a grin and leaned over, careful to not squash Julian, to kiss him gently on the lips. “I’ll watch you while you’re being sexy and make sure that everyone knows that you’re mine.”
In response, Sean stared at him and then looked pointedly down at the baby in between them. “Thought that bit’s pretty damn obvious.”
“They can always use a reminder,” Viggo shrugged.
Sean shook his head, looking down to Julian and stroking against the soft, downy hair. “Any news on your end?”
“The box office for Hidalgo is bigger than everyone thought it would be, even though I haven’t been doing any promotions at all,” he replied. “Casey-the producer-told me that I did enough promotions with the whole media circus. News back homes haven’t changed much because politicians are being stupid. Britain is moving faster, because America keeps talking about religion.” He paused, “David Cronenberg sent me a script.”
Sean blinked, looking up. “Yeah?”
“I haven’t a chance to read it,” he said. “Little guy’s taking up all of our time, and you need to sleep and prepare for Merrick. Cronenberg says that the tentative filming schedule would be in August, so that’s after yours. I have time.”
He lifted his eyes, “Filming would be in Canada, so at least our being there won’t be illegal.”
“And I will actually speak the damn language,” Sean said wryly.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Viggo broke the silence first. “The fallout isn’t as bad as we thought it would be, is it?”
Sean raised an eyebrow, grinning, “Thought there’s only room fer one optimist in this relationship.”
“I’m not being optimistic,” Viggo protested. Julian shifted beneath them at the sudden raise in volume, finally letting go of Viggo’s finger, so he leaned back and rocked the baby gently in his arms until the baby went back to sleep.
But Sean was still laughing at him silently, his hand against his stomach because laughing tugged at the stitches. Viggo should get him to stop, but he loved Sean’s smile, so he only kissed him and felt the soft gusts of air against his own lips.
“Maybe just a little bit.”
***
“You haven’t answered me, little soldier,” Viggo said, looking at his son. Julian was wiser and smarter than Viggo himself could remember at this age, no matter what Sean liked to say.
“About what, Daddy?”
“What have you learned today?”
“Filming is really tedious,” Julian said promptly. He leaned back against his Papa’s arms, and Sean pressed a soft kiss into his hair. “There’s just so much waiting, and those makeup people are really scary, chasing after Papa with their brushes and combs. My books are so much more interesting. I don’t get how you both can do it all the time.”
Sean laughed quietly, eyes dancing as he lifted his eyes. They were all at in the hotel suite that Sean had been given while he was staying in Belfast for Game of Thrones. “The fun part is when the cameras start rolling, Julian.”
“I know,” Julian replied primly, in the tone that familiar to all children of the world: why are my parents being stupid. He swung his legs back and forth, kicking against the sofa. “I don’t think I want to be an actor.”
Viggo and Sean exchanged a glance and a swift smile. The producers for the series wanted to have Julian for Rickon-a walk-in role, they said-but Sean refused them firmly. They knew then that it was the right decision, but this just confirmed it.
“Anyway,” Julian continued, completely oblivious to his parents’ silent conversation. “I ended up talking to Isaac more than reading. He’s fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm! Isaac said that his mom used to watch Papa all the time on TV, and it was scary when he met you the first time. He said that he doesn’t know how I can stand to have famous parents and have cameras chasing after me all the time. I told him that he’s being dumb and Papa isn’t scary and I can’t choose my parents anyway.” He grinned, gap-toothed and blue-eyed as he looked up, one finger in the air. “But! If I could I’ll choose you two still. You’re pretty awesome.”
Viggo laughed, reaching out to ruffle through Julian’s mass of blond curls. Julian yelped, ducking his head, but Viggo chased him until his hand was batted at. “I’m honoured, little soldier.”
“We went to a lot of trouble to have you,” Sean said quietly, stroking his son’s smooth, chubby cheek with the back of his hand. “But you’re worth every damn effort.”
Julian jumped off the armchair, turning around and hugging his Papa around the hip. He wasn’t tall enough to hug him around the waist yet. “Can I see it?” he asked, his voice muffled by Sean’s shirt.
Sean blinked, but he nodded, pulling up his shirt just a little until the thin white line just above his pelvic bone was visible. Julian reached out, dancing his tiny fingers from one end to the other before turning to Viggo.
“I’m not going to have a little brother or sister, right?”
“No,” Viggo said, sliding to the floor until he was eye-level with his boy. “Definitely not.”
The boy nodded decisively. “Good,” he said. “That’s my scar. And I like having you two to myself. Well,” he chewed his lip. “I get Papa and Daddy and Henry and Lorna and Molly and Evie, and I don’t want to share any of you with anyone.”
Sean burst out laughing, reaching down and gathering his beautiful, clever boy into his arms. He dropped a kiss against his temple before leaning over Julian to tangle his fingers together with Viggo’s, their matching bands shining underneath the suite’s light.
Worth every damn minute.
End
Still not sorry. Also, if you actually read all of that, I adore you so very, very much.
It was a day before the official promotions for Return of the King began, and there was a reunion party with the cast that hadn’t seen each other in somewhere between a few months to a few years. Fran was the one who organised it, saying that the camaraderie between the cast was a big draw the last two times and it would be good to make sure that it was still there. Privately, Viggo thought that this cast had taken any chance for a party while filming, and this was as good an excuse as any.
Sean and Viggo were sequestered in a corner of the big room that Barry had rented for the party, with Sean sitting down because his back was killing him and Viggo sipping water next to him. They had both been teased for not drinking, but Viggo had just lifted an eyebrow and even Karl shut up after a while.
Elijah was the first to figure it out.
He dragged a chair over and sat next to them. Viggo didn’t mind. The three of them had built a pretty good relationship during filming, because Sean had driven off any overzealous Beta or Alpha who had tried to hit on Elijah, and after Sean had left, Viggo had taken over. The younger man was almost family to them now, and Viggo had missed him.
It didn’t mean they expected his question, though.
“So,” Elijah began after draining a far too colourful drink that only Dom could have mixed for him. “When are you going to tell all of us that you’re going to have a baby?”
Sean nearly choked on air. Viggo just stared at him before shrugging.
“Probably during promotions,” he said. “Or afterwards. We have an interview planned in January to announce the news, and honestly, we’d like to get to tell you guys before then.”
“How do you know?” Sean’s eyes were wide.
Elijah gave him a flat stare. “I’m an Omega, Sean. I’ve had drilled into me every possible symptom of pregnancy because even though I don’t want to, everyone tells me that eventually I will.” He shrugged, “The water is kind of the killer for me.”
“… Really?”
“Well,” Elijah shrugged. “You ran off when the lobster’s brought out, you’re sitting down, Viggo’s been hovering over you the whole time since the two of you arrived… Plus,” he grinned suddenly. “Peter is terrible at keeping secrets. He’s been shooting you concerned glances the whole night.”
“We told him a couple of days ago,” Viggo said quietly. “Sean’s coming with me during promotions, and I’m not going to lie to Peter about why I’m backing out of the tail end of things.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone else who would notice,” Elijah said, pitching his voice even lower, trying to soothe. “Well, maybe Dave because his wife is an Omega, but that’s a really big maybe. Most Betas don’t notice these things.”
He shook his head. “Anyway, Orlando’s been ranting to me about the two of you keeping secrets and how worried he is for you,” he nodded at Sean, smirking slightly, “When you tell him, can I be there?
Sean and Viggo looked at each other, and they laughed. Sean shook his head, “Try ta pretend that you’re hearin’ it for the first time, alrigh’?”
“I’ll do my best,” Elijah gave them a little salute and wandered off.
Barely a moment later, Ian dropped onto the chair. Viggo stepped forward instinctively, his hand clenching against the back of Sean’s chair before he recognised Ian, calmed himself down, and took a step back. Ian watched the whole display with a small, knowing smile.
“So our artist has the bite of the wolf,” he said, sipping at his margarita. It was probably made by Dom: it was bright, emerald green. “How are you feeling, Sean?”
“If one more person asks me that question, I’ll chop their fuckin’ balls off,” Sean rolled his eyes. “I’m fine; I ain’t some kind of delicate flower who is going to break because the kid’s too damn heavy or somethin’.”
Ian raised a fine, pale eyebrow. “I didn’t realise you’ve told so many people that you’re getting bombarded with questions.”
“It’s his girls,” Viggo put in, quirking his lips upwards. “They’ve been bugging him for daily updates on little brother since we told them last month.”
“A son?”
“Yeah,” Sean said. “Haven’t got an ultrasound since the first time when a doctor checked me over, but I’m a hundred percent sure.”
“Don’t ask why. Just go with it.”
But Ian was staring at him. He looked around himself before leaning in and hissing his next works, “You haven’t had a medical checkup?”
“I did,” Sean said defensively, draining his glass of water. “A month half or so ago. The doc said things are going fine, so I ain’t goin’ again. No matter ‘ow much the bastard bugs me ‘bout it.” He paused, then shrugged. “We’re going on a tour, so it ain’t like I can keep doctor appointments anyway.”
Ian frowned, tapping at his own lip, “Peter might allow my physician to come with me if I make a small fuss.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, “You have a tokologist?”
“General practitioner,” Ian sighed.
“Then bringing an ultrasound along will raise too many questions,” Sean said. His hand fell to his stomach for a moment before he shoved it to lay flat against the out of the chair. “I’ll be fine. Vig’s been readin’ way too many books.” He paused.
“I’ll figure it out,” Viggo said, his hand curling around Sean’s on the chair arm. Though his voice was soft there was a determination and authority there that made him such a good Aragorn-he had never been a showy Alpha, but authority came easily to him without any need for bluster or declarations. Ian had always admired that about him.
“I know you will,” he said, looking at the both of them for a long moment before he pursed his lips. “Stonewall will be ready.”
“Who is on our side?” Viggo’s eyes were narrowed, but he was looking inwards.
Ian shrugged, smiling wryly, “Non-breeding couples. The loud activists-myself included-are male Alphas, but our majority members are still Betas of both sexes. There are even Omegas. Homohierarchal relationships are still looked down upon, even though only Alphas have to deal with illegalities. The stereotypes of Alphas being role models and leaders of societies and hence held to a completely different standard still hold. But if we think about it, it’s counterintuitive that those who are supposed to rule are now the ones prosecuted.”
“This is all too fuckin’ complicated,” Sean complained. He had wrapped both arms around himself, resting them above the small bump of his abdomen. “It ain’t the government’s damn business to decide who we want ta fuck.”
“My existence is still technically illegal,” Viggo said, smiling wryly. “Both my parents are Alphas.”
“Bullshit,” Sean said succinctly. He reached out for Viggo’s hand, pressing a kiss onto the back of it. “We’ll change things. Just you see.”
Ian didn’t stop his soft, wistful smile. There would always be a part of him that envied them-that they were able to find each other and fight out of the boxes that society placed them in.
If only he had been born a few decades later.
***
Sean closed his eyes, placing his head against the glass window of the car, “It’s too damn late ta back out now, ain’t it?”
Viggo made a small sound of agreement. They had decided on an interview with People, and apparently the reporter was already there, so really, the question was asked not for confirmation but reassurance. He knew that, reaching out and wrapped his arm around Sean’s stomach, stroking against it. Sean was dressed in a comfortable cashmere sweater-proper button-down shirts were far too rough against his skin right now-and Viggo rubbed against the curve of his stomach and pressed a kiss against his temple.
“This is fuckin’ stupid.”
“I know,” Viggo said softly. “But I refuse to hide, love. I refuse to claim that Julian is anyone else’s child. I refuse to let unreasonable laws stop me for proclaiming my love for you from the rooftops. I want to be able to go out in public and for everyone to look at you and know that you are mine and you’re carrying my baby.”
“Possessive bastard,” Sean smirked, turning around. He kissed Viggo gently against the lips and hated that the windows of this car was tinted. Let everyone gawk. Let them see. Sean had had three failed relationships but he had found Viggo-there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He just hadn’t found anyone right for him until now, that was all. He closed his eyes. “You’re the best damn thing that has happened to me.”
“Even though I might’ve ruined your career by knocking you up?” Sean could feel Viggo smile against his skin.
Sean snorted quietly, “Keyword’s ‘might’, yeah? Let’s not count the chickens before they ‘atch, aye.” He paused, and chuckled. “I shouldn’t use that damn cliché right now.”
“Are you calling our son a chicken?”
There was a moment of silence before Sean burst out laughing, the lines around his eyes crinkling. Viggo couldn’t help but smile as well, stealing a kiss.
“Have you told Wolfgang about not going for the Troy promotions yet?”
“Yeah,” Sean sighed. “He gave me a ten minutes lecture about the responsibilities of an actor and the chances of the Odyssey being filmed, etc, etc. I told ‘im I had a really good reason that he should wait fer tomorrow’s news.”
Viggo shook his head, “Orlando can manage him.”
The car was slowing and pulling up. Sean turned just as his agent knocked on the partition. “Much as I think the PDA is good for publicity, I’d rather the two of you do that after the interview. Are you finished?”
“Yeah,” Sean said, straightening up. He hissed out a soft breath as Julian kicked him against the spine. Viggo’s hand immediately moved to the small of his back, soothing and warm as he gently rubbed against the knot never seemed to go away. “Yeah, we’re done.”
“Let go.”
They had booked one of the penthouse suites at the hotel and the carpark was entirely blocked off for today, but Sean tensed still, hyperaware of any eyes that might be looking at him. He hated these things; hated the media circus that came with acting. He only ever just wanted to act and not be a celebrity, but nowadays the two went hand in hand, and though he might be used to it, he still hated it.
Viggo got out of the car first, but Sean batted his hand away and stepped out on his own. He let Viggo take his elbow, his other hand flattening against the curve of his stomach. As always, he pushed away the bit of worry-he was seven months along but he still showed very little. Julian was incredibly active though, and Sean really wouldn’t want to see a doctor who would use him as a labrat-not now, not in America or Britain. Maybe when they got to Europe; Viggo said he had found a doctor there.
Sean took a deep breath and went in to face the music.
***
Lord of the Rings have made Viggo Mortensen into an international star, and Sean Bean has been a household name in Britain since Sharpe and GoldenEye. Most reporters will kill to have an interview with either one of them, and I can’t believe that they purposefully called me up for one. My job is to write, but I can’t find the words that explain my nervousness and excitement when they arrived. I clutch my pen and paper.
“It’s not like either of you to call for an interview,” I start. “Both of you have a reputation for avoiding publicity unless it is for the promotion for your movies. Is this about Return of the King?”
“No,” Mortensen says calmly. If one sees one on the streets, one will peg him for a Beta-but right now, sitting opposite him, there is no doubt that this is truly the Man who would be King. He radiates confidence and authority.
I ask them about the rumours going on about Bean’s appearance during the Return of the King promotions.
“That’s part of this, yeah,” Bean says. He looks at Mortensen and takes a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”.
My pen stills, and I am unashamed to say that I gaped.
“You’re coming out as a...” I can’t say it. There is nothing about this man that suggests in any way that he’s not an Alpha.
“No,” Bean says firmly. “I’m an Alpha alright, a male Alpha.” He looks at Mortensen, and Mortensen links their hands together.
“We’re together,” Mortensen says. “We have been together for over three years at this point, and he’s going to have my child. That’s what we called this interview for.”
“What about the rumours about you and Lola Schnabel?”
“False.”
I open my mouth to ask about Bean’s ex-wives.
“Look,” Bean interrupts. “None of us are suddenly homosexual or homohierarchal. We loved our wives. We love each other, and we’re going to have a baby. That’s all there is to it.”
“Homosexual, double-Alpha relationships are still illegal in both Britain and the United States,” I say instead. “What do you think about that issue, given your circumstances?”
Mortensen leans forward. “The primary rejection of homohierarchal relationships, especially double-Alpha relationships, is that there is rarely any breeding potential. I’m a child of two Alpha parents myself, which should already prove the theory dead wrong forty years ago. The fact that it hasn’t is less a problem of my existence than a problem of common understanding.”
He shakes his head, “What is more important, however, is that I don’t believe firstly, that the government has the right to try to restrict who we love. Secondly, we are humans who have been developing our civilisations for thousands of years-I’d like to believe that if I choose to be with someone, it is for the sake of love rather than because I want to have the best children with that person.”
“What about the views of the religious groups?”
“I don’t try to dictate what they believe,” Mortensen says with perfect calm. “I’d like them to not dictate what I should do in my personal life.”
“This is going to be quite a piece of news to the fans of both of you. Do you have anything specific to say to them?”
They look at each other for a long moment, and any suspicion I have about their claims is washed away in that instant when I notice the way they look at each other. Bean turns to me.
“We’re happy,” he says. “We’d like them to be happy for us.”
We talk after that of their future plans. Both Bean and Mortensen have movies coming up-Troy for Bean, with Brad Pitt, Eric Bana, Diane Kruger and fellow Lord of the Rings alumnus Orlando Bloom, and Hidalgo for Mortensen, alongside Omar Sharif. After the interview, Mortensen goes for a smoke, and I follow him.
“I stopped when Henry was born,” referring to his Alpha son with X rocker and Alpha Exene Cervenka, “but I started up again later. I’m trying to quit permanently this time.” He shrugs.
I ask him why they have decided to come out publicly about the relationship.
“If we don’t, then we’ll be hiding,” he says. “I refuse to hide, because hiding implies that I’m ashamed of our relationship and what we have, which I most assuredly am not. Make this clear: I’m not trying to make a political statement through my personal life, but if we don’t say something, then we either have to have our child grow up in a place away from home, or we will have to lie. In the best case scenario, Sean will have to adopt his own child because it is illegal to list a male Alpha as the bearer. Fifteen years ago, it was any Alpha. I refuse to lie back and allow this to happen.”
He turns to me. “The world calls Alphas the rulers and holds them to hypocritical standards. I’m not saying that Alphas are the most prosecuted of all the hierarchies or sexes-I know that I’m privileged-but if there is to be true equality, Alphas have to be dragged down from the caged pedestal that they’re placed on.”
***
Viggo had found a house in Portugal. It was more of a cottage really, with only two rooms-one for the temporary nursery that they had haphazardly fixed up-a kitchen, and a hall. It wasn’t situated at a remote place-it was only a fifteen minutes drive to a mall, and ten minutes to the tokologist’s-but the neighbours all know how to mind their own business. It also has a garden at the back for Sean to tinker with, because Viggo knew his lover well.
Sean was just finishing up with it. It was difficult to think of anything to do in the garden when he was almost as big as the house they were living in-it was almost a relief when he expanded like a balloon last month-and they weren’t going to stay long here. He missed his house and garden in London with a deep ache within him, but he knew that it would be sheer idiocy to go back now. They would be hounded by paparazzi no matter where they went-not just paparazzi, but activists and politicians and God knew who else, all of them wanting a sound-bite or to tell them that what they were doing was wrong.
His stomach cramped at the thought and Sean sighed. He rubbed against it with his knuckles, trying to soothe the muscles beneath the skin. The cramps had been coming on and off for hours now, and he was getting really irritated by it. The tokologist-he finally started seeing a specialist for a bearer’s reproductive system, and he received a massive lecture for not going for monthly check-ups and only Viggo stopped the two of them from getting into a shouting match-told him that those were normal. Fake contractions because his body need practice or something. Usually he barely noticed, but these were getting to the point of actually annoying the hell out of him this time.
The next one shifted from annoying to painful, and he inhaled sharply, slamming a hand against the ground. It felt like there was a fist that clamped around his entire pelvis, squeezing so hard that it spread even to his thighs, all of his muscles clenching up. Sean closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, curling an arm around his stomach. The cramp lasted longer than the last one, and he dropped his head back with his next breath. Hand still against the ground, he waited until the cramp had faded before slowly pushing himself upwards, shoulders tense and as he started counting the seconds.
Shit.
Julian kicked him in response and Sean laughed quietly to himself, walking towards the kitchen door. It was good to know the kid’s with him on this, even if it seemed like he was berating his father for his language.
He slammed his hand against the frame as the next one practically bowled him over, clenching his hand against the wood as he breathed hard through his teeth. It wasn’t supposed to come this fast. He had lost count already, but it couldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to stand up and walk across the garden to the porch. This wasn’t good- and Sean bit down on his own lip, using the stinging pain to distract him from the contractions-yeah, he wasn’t stupid, he knew that these weren’t cramps-until they ended. Then he went for his mobile.
First speed dial. Damn Viggo for choosing now to drive forty minutes out to meet their agents. Sean knew what the reasons were-to stop the paparazzi from finding them-and they didn’t expect it to happen today. He had two more weeks to go.
“Vig,” he said, teeth gritted, when Viggo finally picked it up at the third ring. “Get your ass back ‘ere. Now.”
To his credit, Viggo didn’t ask any stupid questions. “Can you get the bag?”
Sean considered. He thought about the distance from the kitchen to the bedroom and he almost said yes before another contraction ripped through him. He had to bite back a scream and his mind blanked out completely under the onslaught of pain.
“That’s a no,” Viggo said, and Sean could just hear him starting to run. “Where are you? I’ll call the doctor so she’s ready for us, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“In the kitchen. Don’t get into an accident,” Sean said when he was sure he could speak again. He decided not to mention that the contractions were coming so fast that it was starting to scare the hell out of him. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he didn’t want Viggo to get into an accident. He took a deep breath. “Alpha, remember? ‘igh pain thresholds.”
“Exene broke my wrist when she was in labour, and I know how you sound like when you’re trying to make me feel better about something,” in the background, Sean could hear the car door slam. Viggo’s voice softened. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. Just hold on until I get there.”
“Easy fer you ta say,” Sean snorted as he walked towards the large kitchen table, dropping down to a chair. He let his head fall onto the table. “I’m ‘anging up. Concentrate on the road. Yer a fuckin’ American; it’s on the wrong side.”
Viggo laughed. “I love you,” he said.
Sean hung up and let the phone drop from his fingers. He closed his eyes and supposed that he should try counting now. Mel told him that he should do that once he was in labour-after she laughed and told him that once he went through it he would understand why she was always so angry when he decided to leave their girls. He concentrated on that; on counting the contractions and the space between them. They really should have installed a clock of some sort in the kitchen.
He didn’t know how much time had passed with him sitting there, counting and trying to breathe. The contractions came approximately every four and a half minutes by now, and he knew it wasn’t normal. Both of Mel’s labours were much, much slower, and Abby had contractions for an entire day before she noticed them and told him about it. This didn’t even feel normal, and he really should distract himself before he started hyperventilating.
Before he could stop himself, he reached for his cell and called Mel.
“… Sean?” Mel sounded bewildered and half-awake when she picked up the call.
“Yeah,” he said, and he exhaled. There wouldn’t be another contraction for another four and a half minutes. He could do this. He swallowed. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t call for small talk,” she said, and he could almost see her narrowing her eyes at him. “… Are you alright? You sound winded.”
“I think I’m in labour,” he admitted. He swallowed. “And it’s fast, it’s so damn fast that I’m getting’ fuckin’ scared. Jesus, Mel, why didn’t you tell me it hurts so fuckin’ much?”
“Fast?” Mel’s voice sharpened suddenly. “How fast?”
“Four and a half minutes- shit,” he stopped breathing completely, hunching forward with his arm around his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he could barely hear Mel telling him something, but it was drowned out by his loud countdown and the roar of blood in his ears.
“-the, breathe,” Mel was telling him, and he could tell that she was using the same voice she used on the girls when she was scared stiff and she didn’t want them to know about it. “Breathe, Sean. Remember those classes you went with me? Breathe through the pain.”
“Make that four-seventeen. ’ow the fuck could you do this twice?”
“Lorna wanted a sibling and we wanted to try for a son,” her voice rang with amusement. It was gone with her next question, “Where’s Viggo, Sean?”
“’e ‘ad a meetin’,” Sean said, leaning back against the chair and staring at the ceiling. His back was killing him. “Called ‘im when this first started, but he’s forty minutes away.”
“… Sean, are you telling me that your contractions are four and a half minutes apart after half an hour? Less?”
“Yeah,” he breathed out.
“You’re having a damn fast labour, but that’s obvious enough. Heck, Sean, nothing ever goes normally for you, does it?” he could hear her smile and he couldn’t help the tired smile back even though he knew she couldn’t see it. The divorce might have been a horrible experience, but she had James now and they were far happier together than Sean and Mel had been. Nowadays, they were good friends. Mel had seen him at his best and his worst, and there was nothing he could hide from her.
“Tell me ‘bout me girls, Mel?”
“Alright,” she said, and he could hear her drop into a chair and starting to talk. Sean closed his eyes and just listened, counting down at the back of his mind. He gritted his teeth but let go when she told him to breathe, and he didn’t feel the hand in his hair and the other one that took away the phone until the contraction faded.
“Thanks, Mel,” Viggo was saying. “Yeah, tell the girls-can you tell Evie and Abby too? Of course we’ll let you see him; if Britain hasn’t changed the laws I’ll give you all the Portugal address so you can come down. I’ll confirm with you later-I have to hang up now. This one’s over, I think.”
Viggo turned to him, standing up and pressing a soft kiss against Sean’s hair. He had the bag on one arm and he was barefoot. He probably left his shoes at… whatever it was that he was at before he rushed back home.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was coming this fast?”
“You were drivin’,” Sean said, and he hissed as he tried to stand up. “Didn’t want ta worry you.”
“It’s my job to be worried,” Viggo said, and he wrapped his arm around Sean’s waist, taking all of his weight. “It’s the stereotype of the Alpha sire, remember? The one who sits around and frets and has his hand grabbed at.”
“Don’t make me laugh, you bastard,” Sean inhaled, pushing himself up. The moment he did, he felt something inside him give way, and his sweatpants were suddenly soaked. He blinked, looking down, and rubbed at his face. “I ‘aven’t done that since I was four.”
“Five for me,” Viggo grinned, and they started to hobble towards the car. Sean was still counting in his head, and when the next contraction came, he threw his arms around Viggo and bit down on his shirt. Viggo held him tight, still holding onto most of his weight, stroking his back.
He breathed. “Let’s go,” he said, straightening up.
Viggo looked at him for a moment, as if to argue, before nodding sharply.
They went.
***
It was as if Julian knew when it was alright for him to come, because three minutes after they reached the hospital, the contractions sped up even more. Now they seemed to be on top of each other and Sean was just aware of waves and waves of pain, like a series of tides. Viggo was next to him, holding tightly to his hand, and Sean focused on that touch.
Right now, if there was anything more undignified than an examination table with stirrups on its side and butcher paper lining the metal, Sean couldn’t think of it. At least he was kneeling up on it instead of lying on his back, biting back the instinctive urge to push. He wanted to, it felt right that he should, but the doctor told him to wait-she had to do an ultrasound. He knew that didn’t mean anything good, but he only hissed quietly when he felt the cool gel on his skin instead of complaining.
“We have to do a caesarean,” the doctor said, and beneath the calm of her voice was a sharp note of worry. Sean opened his eyes.
“What? Why?” Viggo asked his question for him.
“The cord’s looped around the baby’s neck twice. I can try to slip it over him, but it looks to be too tightly around his neck.” She took a breath, “And he’s already starting to move downwards. If that carries on, the cord is going to- strangle him. I have to do it now.”
Sean took a deep breath and pushed away the pain as much as he could. He took a deep breath, “Give me an epidural.” Like hell he was going to be unconscious when his son was born. He was going to be awake and holding him and nothing was going to stop him.
The doctor shook a head, “It will take far too long. I can’t let the baby move further down. I have to put you under general anaesthetic.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping tight to Viggo’s hand. There was nothing he could say even though he wanted to rail and shout and scream from the pain and the frustration. It was just one thing he wanted and he couldn’t have it.
“Put him under,” Viggo said, his hand cupped Sean’s neck. He tilted his head down. Sean opened his eyes to meet Viggo’s gaze, holding it. “You’ll see him the moment you open your eyes,” Viggo murmured. “I promise you that.”
Sean reached forward, grabbing hold of Viggo’s shirt and kissing him bruisingly hard, gasping into his mouth through another contraction, struggling against the urge to push. At the same time, he could feel a prick against his elbow, but he fought the darkness.
“Julian Richard,” he stressed the next word, every damn syllable, “Mortensen.”
Then he closed his eyes.
***
There was a damn irritating beeping in his ear. Sean tried to lift his arm to shove it off-this was why alarm clocks didn’t work very well with him-but something was stopping him. It felt like there was something pressing against his arm- into his skin, and Sean tried to frown but his face didn’t seem to work very well either. He tried to open his eyes, but everything went grey for a moment so he closed them. It wasn’t long before he drifted off again.
The next time he woke up, he was first aware that his mouth felt like something had died in it. Then he felt something over his face, covering his nose and mouth. The thing in his arm was still there and it was still annoying. There was also a fog that seemed to surround his head completely. Sean tried to blink, but opening his eyes was too difficult. It was far too bright and he squeezed his eyes shut, frowning.
“Hey,” he heard a voice, and there was a hand against his cheek. “You awake?”
Sean tried to open his eyes again, and this time it was far less bright. There was something right over his eyes and he tried to get his vision to stop blurring and focus faster. He could feel Viggo’s hand around his own and he squeezed it, shaking his head to try to dislodge whatever plastic thing that was around his mouth.
Viggo pulled away for a moment and the light rushed in. Sean squeezed his eyes shut again, and he didn’t see who reached out and took the oxygen mask off of his face. It wasn’t Viggo: the skin was colder- and Viggo’s hand was on his lip, and there was something icy brushing against his mouth. A piece of ice? Sean opened his mouth slightly, taking the ice chips that Viggo was feeding him and letting them melt against his dry tongue. He swallowed the water, and the dead rat feeling of his throat faded with every single piece.
“Up,” he said, and he was surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.
“Hold on.”
Sean turned his head. There was a fuzzy female body at the edge of his vision, and he could suddenly feel the bed tilting, letting him sit upwards.
He was still trying to figure out why on Earth he was on a bed. It had been a really long time since he had gotten into hospital-in fact, the last few times he was here were entirely for someone else’s sake. It felt like he had surgery and stitches- Sean ripped his hand away from Viggo’s to flatten out against his stomach. Not completely flat yet, but definitely empty- he shook his head hard, feeling a headache start behind his eyes, but his vision cleared faster. It must be the adrenaline.
“The baby?” His voice sounded as if he ran through it with sandpapers.
“Patience,” Viggo chided gently, and he pushed against Sean’s chest with a hand. It was cold and a little wet. “Lie back.”
Sean did. He felt Viggo settle down next to him. “Here,” Viggo said. “I promised.”
Held safely in Viggo’s arm was a small bundle of fluffy blue cloth. Sean pulled at his hand, but the IV refused to budge, so he reached out with the other hand, pulling the cloth back. Their son had a small, downy patch of blond hair and what he could tell to be the beginning of Viggo’s cheekbones. Sean stroked his hand against a milk-smooth cheek, barely daring to breathe. Julian shifted in his blankets, blinking open his eyes-and Sean knew that most newborns took time to develop the colour of their eyes, but he recognised that colour immediately.
“He ‘as yer eyes,” Sean said, his voice hoarse and full of wonder. He turned to Viggo. “Christ, Vig, he ‘as yer eyes.”
Julian wriggled a little at the new voice, his small fists peeking out of the blankets. His mouth opened in a yawn before he settled down, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.
“Here,” Viggo urged, nudging Sean gently with his shoulder. “Hold him.”
There were some things a person never forgot. He curled his arms automatically, taking Julian into his arms. The stitches around his belly flared sharply in pain, but Sean ignored it, utterly captivated by the sight of his baby son. Then he laid Julian gently down on the bed, near to his IV-captured wrist, and tugged at the blankets to loosen them. Viggo laid his hands over Sean’s for a moment, catching his eyes, and Sean pulled away and pulled his hospital gown open.
“I want ta see and feel ‘im properly,” he said.
Viggo just gave him a smile and tugged Julian free of his blankets, “You don’t have to explain to me.”
Sean reached forward immediately, lifting the baby up very carefully and placing him against his own skin. Julian felt soft and incredibly warm, his diaper scratchy and dry against Sean’s skin. He immediately turned towards Sean, seeking out his heartbeat, and Sean leaned down and kissed against baby-soft hair.
He felt Viggo sit back down on the bed, leaning back against his chest when Viggo pulled him close. Sean turned his head and kissed him.
“What’s ‘is name?” he murmured.
“Like you said,” Viggo said, his words muffled against Sean’s mouth. “Julian Richard Mortensen. He’s going to have triple nationality, you know?”
“Good,” Sean said, closing his eyes. “We can come ‘ere more often.”
He was still in pain and the morphine was making almost everything a little fuzzy; he knew that there was a world out there that still didn’t accept his relationship and his family. But all of that could go to hell for the moment, because Sean didn’t care-he had his son, he had his lover, and he was content.
***
The things happened at the same time: Sean’s phone rang, and Julian started crying.
Sean swore under his breath, pushing himself out of the bed and grabbing his phone, going into the next room and switching it on. Viggo watched him for a moment before he got out of bed as well, heading to Julian’s crib and picking up their son.
They had moved the crib from the nursery to the bedroom after the second day, because they could barely get the boy to sleep. Julian was a restless child, prone to fussing and crying when he wasn’t being held. Even when his diapers were dry and he was just fed, he would still fuss unless one of his fathers picked him up and held him. Any sound that wasn’t their voices would make him cry, and Viggo might have a large amount of patience, but it was fraying.
It didn’t help that they still couldn’t go back home-to either homes. The debates still raged on, and even though Viggo expected that-it would take more than two months for a bunch of politicians to shut up and make a reasonable decision-emotionally it was far harder to accept. Ian was emailing him weekly updates about the situation, but Viggo hadn’t the energy to even drag himself out of the bed and out of sight of Julian’s crib for days now. He couldn’t imagine how Sean was feeling. At least he had bullied the other man into taking naps whenever Julian was sleeping. Thank God neither of them had work right now.
According to their agents, Sean and he had been offered up to five million dollars for the first pictures of their son, but both of them had refused adamantly. Money wasn’t a problem, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to become tabloid fodder when he wasn’t even a month old yet. Even though there were times when he was incredibly frustrated that it took so long for him to find some success with his career, he was thankful of it now-thankful that his lack of fame had kept his relationship with Exene and Henry completely out of the public’s eye.
“Such a spoiled princeling,” he tutted under his breath, chucking Julian underneath the chin. His own blue eyes stared back at him, unblinking before Julian hiccupped just once and settled back down amongst his blankets. A small fist poked out and Viggo stroked against the soft skin with a finger, which Julian grabbed immediately. He scrunched his eyes shut and wriggled a little more into his blankets, his fist waving in the air without letting go of Viggo’s finger.
Viggo chuckled to himself, lifting the baby up to kiss right against the furrowed brows. Damn the boy; he was too adorable for Viggo to be angry at him. Then he looked up as Sean came back into the room, tossing his phone onto the bed.
“What happened?”
“Bay called,” Sean said, sitting down on the bed with a small wince. The staples across his stomach were still there, and the incision had only just begun to heal. “’e said that ‘e’s been fightin’ with the damn producers, that’s why he ‘aven’t called. Told me that he still wants me fer Merrick.”
Sean heaved a sigh, “But Merrick’s character is bein’ rewritten. If Bay’s ‘aving me fer ‘im, then producers are goin’ ta ‘ave ‘im be a Beta. Not an Alpha.” He paused. “Filming starts in a month. Two days after I get ta ‘ave these little bastards,” he brushed against his belly, “taken out.”
Viggo watched him for a long moment. He wanted to ask if Sean would be alright; if he had enough time to recover by then. But he knew Sean’s pride, so he only nodded, “I’ll come with you.” He gives Sean a grin and leaned over, careful to not squash Julian, to kiss him gently on the lips. “I’ll watch you while you’re being sexy and make sure that everyone knows that you’re mine.”
In response, Sean stared at him and then looked pointedly down at the baby in between them. “Thought that bit’s pretty damn obvious.”
“They can always use a reminder,” Viggo shrugged.
Sean shook his head, looking down to Julian and stroking against the soft, downy hair. “Any news on your end?”
“The box office for Hidalgo is bigger than everyone thought it would be, even though I haven’t been doing any promotions at all,” he replied. “Casey-the producer-told me that I did enough promotions with the whole media circus. News back homes haven’t changed much because politicians are being stupid. Britain is moving faster, because America keeps talking about religion.” He paused, “David Cronenberg sent me a script.”
Sean blinked, looking up. “Yeah?”
“I haven’t a chance to read it,” he said. “Little guy’s taking up all of our time, and you need to sleep and prepare for Merrick. Cronenberg says that the tentative filming schedule would be in August, so that’s after yours. I have time.”
He lifted his eyes, “Filming would be in Canada, so at least our being there won’t be illegal.”
“And I will actually speak the damn language,” Sean said wryly.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Viggo broke the silence first. “The fallout isn’t as bad as we thought it would be, is it?”
Sean raised an eyebrow, grinning, “Thought there’s only room fer one optimist in this relationship.”
“I’m not being optimistic,” Viggo protested. Julian shifted beneath them at the sudden raise in volume, finally letting go of Viggo’s finger, so he leaned back and rocked the baby gently in his arms until the baby went back to sleep.
But Sean was still laughing at him silently, his hand against his stomach because laughing tugged at the stitches. Viggo should get him to stop, but he loved Sean’s smile, so he only kissed him and felt the soft gusts of air against his own lips.
“Maybe just a little bit.”
***
“You haven’t answered me, little soldier,” Viggo said, looking at his son. Julian was wiser and smarter than Viggo himself could remember at this age, no matter what Sean liked to say.
“About what, Daddy?”
“What have you learned today?”
“Filming is really tedious,” Julian said promptly. He leaned back against his Papa’s arms, and Sean pressed a soft kiss into his hair. “There’s just so much waiting, and those makeup people are really scary, chasing after Papa with their brushes and combs. My books are so much more interesting. I don’t get how you both can do it all the time.”
Sean laughed quietly, eyes dancing as he lifted his eyes. They were all at in the hotel suite that Sean had been given while he was staying in Belfast for Game of Thrones. “The fun part is when the cameras start rolling, Julian.”
“I know,” Julian replied primly, in the tone that familiar to all children of the world: why are my parents being stupid. He swung his legs back and forth, kicking against the sofa. “I don’t think I want to be an actor.”
Viggo and Sean exchanged a glance and a swift smile. The producers for the series wanted to have Julian for Rickon-a walk-in role, they said-but Sean refused them firmly. They knew then that it was the right decision, but this just confirmed it.
“Anyway,” Julian continued, completely oblivious to his parents’ silent conversation. “I ended up talking to Isaac more than reading. He’s fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm! Isaac said that his mom used to watch Papa all the time on TV, and it was scary when he met you the first time. He said that he doesn’t know how I can stand to have famous parents and have cameras chasing after me all the time. I told him that he’s being dumb and Papa isn’t scary and I can’t choose my parents anyway.” He grinned, gap-toothed and blue-eyed as he looked up, one finger in the air. “But! If I could I’ll choose you two still. You’re pretty awesome.”
Viggo laughed, reaching out to ruffle through Julian’s mass of blond curls. Julian yelped, ducking his head, but Viggo chased him until his hand was batted at. “I’m honoured, little soldier.”
“We went to a lot of trouble to have you,” Sean said quietly, stroking his son’s smooth, chubby cheek with the back of his hand. “But you’re worth every damn effort.”
Julian jumped off the armchair, turning around and hugging his Papa around the hip. He wasn’t tall enough to hug him around the waist yet. “Can I see it?” he asked, his voice muffled by Sean’s shirt.
Sean blinked, but he nodded, pulling up his shirt just a little until the thin white line just above his pelvic bone was visible. Julian reached out, dancing his tiny fingers from one end to the other before turning to Viggo.
“I’m not going to have a little brother or sister, right?”
“No,” Viggo said, sliding to the floor until he was eye-level with his boy. “Definitely not.”
The boy nodded decisively. “Good,” he said. “That’s my scar. And I like having you two to myself. Well,” he chewed his lip. “I get Papa and Daddy and Henry and Lorna and Molly and Evie, and I don’t want to share any of you with anyone.”
Sean burst out laughing, reaching down and gathering his beautiful, clever boy into his arms. He dropped a kiss against his temple before leaning over Julian to tangle his fingers together with Viggo’s, their matching bands shining underneath the suite’s light.
Worth every damn minute.
End
Still not sorry. Also, if you actually read all of that, I adore you so very, very much.