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Summary
Luffy really wants to love Yamato.
He just wishes someone would tell him how to. -
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Sanji nearly flinches when a hand plops itself comfortably on his head, petting his hair like he’s a beloved family dog. “Good, good, Sanji! You’re smart bringing food.”
Sanji blinks a few times before turning to look up at Luffy who’s beaming down, eyes curved shut and grin wide, hand still petting him.
His brain feels like it’s malfunctioning, cotton stuffed inside of it and making it hard to think. Good. Good job. Good. Those words cycle around in his mind on repeat.
Then Luffy lets go of him, reaching past him to grab up the stack of lunches and turns, cheering for Usopp or that shit swordsman to go join him, but it sounds muffled and far away under the litany of good good good. His captain thinks he’s good.
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“Are you pregnant?!”
Mydei looks to his right: Perdikkas seems to have lost all the color from his face and Ptolemy is fanning him with a piece of paper. He looks to his left: Leonnius is typing on his cell phone as if his life depended on it and Peucesta is pacing in place like a caged lion.
Look ahead again: the vein on Hephaestion's forehead could very well burst if Mydei doesn't watch his words.
Anyway, “There was no need to make such a fuss.”
The sigh of the pink-haired boy could be heard from here to Xianzhou.
“Mydeimos.” Oh, he's angry. Mydei settled more comfortably in his seat, avoiding putting any weight on his belly. “You've been hiding your pregnancy for almost three months.”
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Or where Mydei tries to hide his pregnancy to keep his rock band's world tour going. Of course, that is, until Hephaestion finds out, which leads to everyone else finding out, and now Mydei has to get to the hard part: telling his husband, Phainon.
PREGDEIWEEK DAY1: Pregnancy Reveal + Dry Humping
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After their trials in Totto Land, Sanji finds himself struggling to let go of the guilt of the choices he made. When Luffy notices, he decides to confront the issue head on in an unconventional way that leads to more emotional and physical connections between the two than Sanji had ever expected.
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Mydei looks down at him. The weight of his full attention is brutal—their weapons sheathed, the air heady with night-blooming flora, the only sound the cicadas' mourning song. There is no distraction from the furrow of Mydei's brow, the distance in his eyes, forever insurmountable.
“Sometimes," Mydei says, so softly that Phainon feels him more than he hears him, "you sound like you mean these things you tease me with."
Phainon freezes. He wants to do—something. Anything. Shove Mydei down. Drive his sword through his stomach into the earth to keep him still. Kiss him until they suffocate and the scouts find their bodies, entwined on the ledge.