Chapter Text
10 months later
The apartment was quieter than usual when Alan finally locked up the restaurant and came upstairs.
It had been one of those long days, too many orders, not enough staff, the kind of shift that left his shoulders tight and his feet aching. But the second he opened the bedroom door, all of that slipped to the background.
Jeff and the baby were asleep underneath the covers.
The Omega was on his side, one arm curved protectively around their daughter, his hand resting lightly against the tiny space between her shoulder blades. The baby lay on her back in a little onesie with tiny green stars, fists half-curled, mouth slightly open in the softest, quietest snore.
She looked just like Jeff.
Same nose, same stubborn little mouth, same dark lashes resting against soft cheeks. Alan could already hear the argument Jeff would make—She looks like both of us—but standing in the doorway, the Alpha couldn’t see anything of himself at all, and he didn’t mind one bit.
He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching them. The bedside lamp was on its lowest setting, painting everything in warm gold. The Omega’s hair was a mess, flattened on one side, and the baby’s fingers were tangled up in the edge of his T-shirt like she refused to let him go, even in sleep.
Alan’s chest tightened in an entirely different way than during the dinner rush.
He stepped in quietly, closing the door most of the way behind him. The floor creaked once, and Jeff’s eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t fully wake until the Alpha sat on the edge of the bed and brushed two fingers gently over his forearm.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Sleeping beauty.”
Jeff frowned without opening his eyes. “No, I’m dead,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep. “Come back later.”
Alan huffed a quiet laugh. “Tempting, but I brought bribes.”
One of the Omega’s eyes cracked open, suspicious. “What kind of bribes?”
“Your favorite,” the Alpha said. “I made that noodle dish you like before I came up. The good one, not the ‘I’m tired and there’s nothing in the fridge’ version. It’s still warm. Go eat while I give her a bath.”
Jeff blinked a few times, his brain clearly lagging. He glanced at the sleeping baby girl, then back at Alan. “You want to move her now? She just ate and fell asleep, like… twenty minutes ago.” He yawned, jaw cracking. “We have at least an hour before she turns into a tiny alarm again.”
The Alpha hesitated. “Yeah, but if we both fall asleep now, we’re going to wake up at… some cursed time of night.”
“So?” The Omega mumbled. “We’re parents. Time is fake.”
Alan tried to look stern and failed immediately. “I’m just saying, you haven’t eaten since… when was your lunch break?”
Jeff’s silence was answer enough.
The Alpha sighed. “Exactly.”
The Omega exhaled and snuggled a little closer to the baby. “I will eat,” he promised. “In a bit. Just let me stay like this for a moment.”
Alan should have pushed. He knew that. He could have insisted, scooped up their daughter, and gently bullied Jeff toward the kitchen.
Instead, he looked at the two of them again, the baby’s tiny chest rising and falling, Jeff’s fingers curled loosely around her, both of them soft and safe and right there, and felt his resolve crumble.
So he slipped under the blanket behind Jeff, careful not to jostle the mattress too much.
The Omega hummed quietly when he felt the warmth behind him. “See?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Napping while she naps is the best idea.”
The Alpha smiled against his hair. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered. “I was supposed to get you to eat, not join the cuddle pile.”
Jeff let out a soft, sleepy laugh. “You can feed me later,” he replied. “Stay now.”
Alan tightened his arm around them both, breathing in the familiar comfort of the Omega’s scent mixed with the softer, new sweetness of their daughter. “I love you,” he said quietly.
Jeff’s fingers brushed over his forearm in a slow, lazy stroke. “Love you too,” he whispered. “Both of us do.”
The baby sighed in her sleep, pressing unconsciously closer into Jeff’s chest. Alan closed his eyes, letting the last of the day’s tension drift away as he held them.
Dinner could wait.
The bath could wait.
For now, this, his husband, their daughter, the quiet weight of both of them in his arms, was more than enough.