Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on
So, tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

"Somewhere Only We Know" ~ Keane

 

Rio 

“Agatha!” Rio stormed into the hospital, clutching her wailing son to her chest as her eyes squinted against bright fluorescents. “Where is she? Agatha!” 

The ambulance was a blur before that, a mess of lights and too many strangers in her home. She had frozen, her mind going blank, and the only thing she was able to do was soothe the newborn in her arms as her wife was placed on a stretcher and ran out of their house before she could follow. The ambulance left, leaving her standing in the night, the leftover paramedics grabbing her bags and locking up her house before she even knew she was being led into the back of another ambulance. The medics there worked around her, her son fighting in her arms as they maneuvered him, severing him from the last tether to his other mother before wrapping him in a plain white baby blanket. Rio clung to him, her tears pouring down her cheeks as she faintly heard the medic beside her, trying to calm her, trying to coax her as they took her blood pleasure- which she was sure with how high it must be– she should be dead… but if Agatha…

Before she could take another step, nurses were surrounding her, and it took everything in her not to jerk her body back feeling a hand on her arm. The infant in her arms was squealing, impossibly tiny fingers clutching into her skin, the other hand latched to her hair, refusing to let go. She couldn’t let him go– she couldn’t– everything in her body was shaking, working twice as hard as her very blood– it felt as if her veins were swelling, ready to pop as the light hurt her head. 

“Rio– Mrs. Harkness-Vidal– please,” a nurse’s voice finally broke through the film. 

She stepped towards the nurse, knowing how wild she must look, covered in blood, her hair in tangles, clutching a newborn, “Where is she? Where is my wife?” 

“Doctors have her– she lost a good bit of blood, and they’re doing transfusions now.” 

Rio shook her head, this time slowly yanking her arms away from a nurse making grabbing hands at her son, “I have to be with her–”

“Mrs. Harkness–” 

She didn’t let her finish, her voice frantic, her eyes pleading with the shorter nurse to understand, “No– no way! You don’t understand. She can’t be alone when she wakes up.”

“I assure you ; we will have doctors present–”

Rio’s eyes grew wide, her heart ready to jump from her throat and run through the damn hospital itself to get to her wife. Her wife couldn’t be by herself, couldn’t wake up alone– and each thought of her waking to no one, sent Rio into a spiral. 

“No, she’s scared– scared of hospitals– please, don’t let her wake up without me there!”

The nurse faltered, just for a moment, as if something in Rio’s voice– hoarse and breaking, so raw it didn’t even sound like pleading, just truth– was sharp enough to fray through the clinical cool of protocol. The baby cried harder, his voice small but unyielding, the same as his mother’s resolve.

“We will see what we can do, but please– let us take a look at him.” 

Rio felt the protest on the tip of her tongue until another nurse was in front of her, her eyes gentle, a simple tilt of her head, “You can come with us. The doctor just needs to check a few things, his lungs–” 

At that, her son screamed harder, his mouth rooting against her upper chest, making some of the nurses smile.

“His lungs do sound strong,” another nurse cooed. 

The younger nurse, blonde and spirited, smiled up at Rio, “Then we will check his heart, see how much love you and your wife put into it. Doc will also redo his vitals and measurements.”

An older nurse stepped forward as Rio’s protectiveness cracked, “Please, dear, will you let us? It’s important for his survival too.” 

With that, she nodded, allowing the blonde to step forward and cradle him into her arms with practiced ease before two others were there, chuckling under their breaths as they unwrapped his tiny fingers from her hair.

Rio was alert as she followed them, her eyes wide but pinned on her son who continued to cry. She followed close on their heels, stalking behind in the shadows like a mountain lion, her heart pounding a ragged rhythm behind her ribs. Every time he wailed, it tore something deeper into her. It felt wrong, her skin itching from the absence of him– of her– and he had only just arrived in the world, still caught in the first echo of cries while his mother had been ripped away from her with no warning, no goodbye, just an orchestra of blood and flashing lights. 

The hallway opened into a quieter wing– soft beeps, warm-toned walls, the kind of hush and sterile reserved for new beginnings. The nurse guiding them slowed, opening a door to a smaller room full of supplies and machines Rio did not have a name for. It smelled of clean linen and something gentler– something like a fresh meadow on a warm spring day… something to calm a newborn, and her own newborn was placed into a tall bassinet before the nurses cleared out, trading places with a doctor who swept in with patience and a tired grace Rio had recognized from her own self. 

“My, he looks amazing for a sudden home birth and those lungs,” she chuckled softly, deep red hair pinned up in a bun, before she turned with a gentle smile on Rio. 

She was older, but the lines were light that carved her face, her eyes a dark blue, that radiant peace, “Hello, I’m Dr. Aubrey Montgomery. You must be Rio– his mother and a very worried wife.” 

Rio would crack a smile, but she couldn’t as her eyes narrowed behind the doctor to her son. Instead, she nodded in greeting– Montgomery turning back to Nicholas. 

“You did a wonderful job, Rio, for the delivery. Did you train or study somewhere?”

She cleared her throat, finding it hoarse and responded slowly, “No– uh, just read a lot on the internet and some books.”

Montgomery didn’t look at her as she smiled, “Well, Rio, you delivered a healthy baby boy– his vitals look great, lungs clear, and his heart is strong. Let’s get his measurements– does he have a name yet?” 

She smiled softly, her mind drifting to the day lilies, “Nicholas, Nicholas Scratch… Harkness-Vidal.”

“Nicholas,” she hummed, smiling at the babe as he wailed even louder. “You are an even nine pounds and five ounces, and twenty-one inches, mister.” 

Rio’s mind was running though, through the blood, through the way her wife just went unresponsive, and her fists curled. She replayed everything, as if her life was recorded on a screen, watching her wife through their dinner, dancing together after doing dishes, and sex… Gods… 

“Is it my fault?” she blurted before she could stop herself. 

This time Montgomery blinked up at her and for a moment, they only listened to Nicholas’s whimpers as he was passed back into her arms. The doctor didn’t smile, didn’t react– her gaze unnervingly steady, making Rio want to grab her by the neck and shake the bitch. 

“No, it’s not your fault. Hemorrhages happen, even with professionals on staff. They’re working on her now and doing everything they can.” 

Rio sat up, holding her son to her chest, “And what if–” 

The door opened, interrupting her as the older nurse was back with a bottle, “Alright, let’s get him fed. You want to feed him, dear?” 

The world stopped, just a second– a second that felt like hours as her gaze turned down to the baby in her arms. Gods , he was gorgeous– he was still pink, but the goo and the birth were wiped away, those fragile wrinkles, and alienated looks gone… just a baby– one clinging to her tightly, nuzzling into her with trusting whimpers. Her son… their son… and a different dam broke through Rio’s walls. Tears ran down her face as her son wiggled, trying to bring himself closer to her, almost as if he was already done with the outside world and wanted to be cradled back inside. 

Rio didn’t notice the doctor leaving, just the nurse kneeling in front of her, murmuring directions, steady hands guiding him on his back in her arm, one wrinkling one cupping under his head and neck until it was placed perfectly against her breast. The white blanket held him but didn’t stop his hands from reaching for her. Rio looked up, locking gazes with the old nurse who smiled at her, holding a tiny bottle for her– it was only two ounces, the amount newborns drink within the first hour of life. She held the bottle up, bringing the nipple to his tiny mouth, and he took it quickly. His cries ceased entirely and a soft suckling filled the room. Then, a hand found her again, not pulling, just holding as once more the world stopped.

Her heart was fluttering, her body flying as she fed the tiny body made of both her wife and her. Her eyes raked over his face, already seeing both of them. His chin was Agatha’s already, a small dimple that would grow– his hair also her wife’s, but the color was an even shade between them : darker than chestnut, but lighter than her raven hair. And then, his eyes opened, and Rio felt her heart skip a beat, more tears running down her face as rich brown eyes stared up at her, really stared up at her. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It was her . 

Rio was staring down a mini version of herself. 

The hand in her hair moved up, reaching for her face and next thing Rio knew, her head was already bowing, bringing it closer until five tiny fingers, no longer than an inchworm, were against her chin. 

They didn’t grip, just rested there, feeling and exploring his world– so curious already. She closed her eyes, pressing a kiss to his hand and the tears kept falling. She didn’t bother to wipe, just allowed herself to feel everything– feel the pride deep in her chest, the love that was already so strong it made her body hurt, the worry for her wife that felt like oxygen had depleted. She didn’t notice the nurse walk out either– silent as a breath from a candle. The room was only filled with the steady suckling of milk and a few tiny hums from Nicholas, blissful in his mother’s arms. She cradled him closer, her cheek brushing those curls, before inhaling– a mix of milk, a tiny bit of hospital, and something distinctly him and Agatha. 

Nicholas stared up at her, mouth still greedily working the bottle, but slower, drowsy, and trusting– and it was that trust that broke her and rebuilt her all in one breath. And suddenly, she couldn’t stop talking. Her voice came in low, thick with emotion, words trembling but tumbling free softer than an owl learning to sing through the night. 

“ Ay mijito, tu mamá va a estar tan feliz– o bueno, va a fingir estar molesta conmigo, con estos grandes ojitos marrones, pero te enseñaré algo,” she whispered when his mouth opened, allowing her to set the now empty bottle aside, his eyes fluttering. (Oh, my little son, your mama is gonna be so happy– well, she’s gonna feign being mad at me, with these big brown eyes, but I’ll teach you something.)

“Primero, mamá siempre está a cargo. ¿Quieres algo? Tendrás que preguntarle. Si me preguntas te voy a mandar con tu mamá a menos que podamos esconderlo de ella. Pero el secreto, mijito, es que tienes que usar esos ojos marrones– mi regalo para tí. Son su debilidad y juntos podemos hacer que se desmorone– pero ella te enseñará mejor como manipular– como defenderte, como dominar el mundo con solo una mirada– te enseñará a cantar, a leer, a escribir– te enseñará nuestra canción .” (First thing, Mama is always in charge. You want something? You must ask her. Ask me and I will send you to your mama unless we can hide it from her. But the secret, my little son, is that you have to use these big brown eyes– my gift to you. They are her weakness and together, we can make her crumble– but she will teach you how to manipulate the best– how to stand strong for yourself, how to dissect the world with a single glance– she’ll teach you to sing, to read, to write– teach you our song.)

And it seemed, at the mention of his mama, his face scrunched up, his breath sucking in before he let out a few soft, cranky cries. Rio brought him up to her chest, settling his ear against her heartbeat as she kissed his head, taking in his scent. 

“ Ow, yo sé, conejito, ” she soothed, her body on autopilot as she stood, swaying herself. “ Tengo otro secreto para tí– uno que no le puedes contar a mamá. En una de nuestras primeras citas me sentó a ver mi primer musical– The Sound of Music y la manera en la que su cara se encendió– sus ojos azules brillan cuando se emociona– cuando la película empezó, escuché cantar a tu mamá. No le digas pero es lo único que me gusta de los musicales. Su voz es celestial mijito, mejor que la mía, y yo sé que te cantará nuestra canción cada noche antes de dormir, así que, por ahora, te cantaré una canción distinta. Ella merece ser la primera en cantar nuestra canción. ” (Oh, I know, conejito. I have another secret to tell you– one you can never tell Mama. It was one of our first couple dates and she sat me down for my first musical– The Sound of Music and the way Mama’s face lit up– her blue eyes get this extra shine when she is excited– when the movie started, I listened to your mama sing. Don’t tell her, but that’s the only part I like about musicals. Her voice is heavenly, my son, so much better than mine, and I know she will sing you our song every night before bed, so for now, I will sing you a different song. She deserves to be the first one to sing you our song.) 

“ Edelweiss, edelweiss 

Every morning you greet me 

Small and white, clean and bright 

You look happy to meet me 

Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow 

Bloom and grow forever 

Edelweiss, edelweiss… 

You look happy to meet me ”

***

He had slept peacefully in her arms as she swayed around the room, trying not to pace as her focus was on him– it had to be on him, or she would break. Eventually, the nurse came back another following with her bags from the ambulance and it was only then that Rio realized she was still in her blood-soaked sweatpants, whatever was on her shirt, and her bare feet frozen against the concrete floor. After convincing her once again to let them take Nicholas, Rio was able to shower and change, luckily bringing her own slides and changing into a different pair of sweats and a crew neck from Salemite’s University.

The moment she stepped out, she rushed to where he was sleeping in a nurse’s arms, the same one who promised she wouldn’t leave the room. She didn’t, thank the gods, and with ease, Nicholas was back in her arms. She clung to him, pressing kisses to his head, humming every song but their song. Her wife deserved that– and something gnawed at Rio that her wife didn’t get the joys of being the first to feed their son. But she couldn’t change it and wouldn’t if it meant both him and her wife surviving– if she survived. 

Another hour went on, and Nicholas was still happily against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She was in the chair now, her eyes fighting to stay open, murmuring soft Spanish to her son when a knock jolted her upright, staring at the nurse. 

“We are going to do another check on him and then bring you to Agatha. She’s stable, but we had to give her a dose of Ativan when she woke up–”

Rio’s head snapped up, her mouth parting, but for a moment no sound came. Her fingers curled around Nicky, shielding his body from her own raging storm inside her. 

“When she woke up?” her voice cracked low with disbelief, then steadied like a storm brewing over the horizon. “You let her wake up alone? After everything I said?”

The nurse stumbled back for a moment, her professional façade fading for a moment.

“She was agitated, disoriented. We had to calm her down before she got violent–”

Rio rose slowly like a tidal wave, Nicky still held close. “I told you and every single person that she couldn’t wake up alone.” 

She didn’t shout– she didn’t have to. She kept her voice colder than arctic winds, soundless at times, but holding the frozen bitten punch. A tone she only used in classrooms or board meetings. But this time, her eyes glistened, sharp and wet, as she could imagine the pure panic of Agatha’s face realizing Rio and Nicholas weren’t there. And gods, it was hard to breathe. 

“She needed me, not a sedative,” she growled low, Nicky now fussing softly at her chest as though sensing her shift. 

The nurse didn’t argue, just nodded slowly, “I understand. If I may do one last check on him before bringing you to her?” 

Once again, she had to fight herself, handing him as she disappeared down the hall. Minutes felt like hours, the hand dragging itself until the nurse appeared with a few others. She was quick to return Nicky to her arms as the others grabbed her bags for her, the nurse leading them through long halls as Rio held the most precious thing in the world. Yet the world around them held its breath as the nurses kept a distance behind her until the doors opened to the postpartum unit. It was quiet, a few newborn cries making her son twitch against her. She caressed his cheek, soothing him as they made it to the end of the hall, the old nurse opening the door to a private suite. 

Inside, the lights were dimmed only slightly, the blinds pulled to where the coming sun was blocked entry. The room was painted a soothing baby green, a bathroom to the side, and a cot just under the window. A rocking chair sat across from the cot, a basket of leaflets, baby bottles, blankets, and diapers resting in its seat. On the other side of the wall was a bassinet and an island full of more medical supplies, but in the center was a practical hospital bed and her wife, dressed in a pink gown, sleeping soundly against the pillows. Her cheek was turned to the side, facing the window as she laid there half sitting up. Her arms were limp next to her, an IV stuck in one, a bag beside her dripping with fluid. But the color was back in those high cheekbones, her hair a mess behind her, tied loosely in a tail– probably by a nurse. 

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder, the old nurse coming beside her and whispering, “When she wakes, she’s alright to start breastfeeding him. There’s a pamphlet in the basket or you can grab one of us if you need help.”

And with that, her bags were set on the cot and the door shut behind her with a deafening click. Yet, Rio couldn’t move– she was rooted to her spot, staring at the strongest woman she ever knew, the love of her life– the woman who now seemed so small with a nasal cannula to help her breathe. But the relief had more tears streaming down her face– her love was alive ; she was here for her and their son.

Just like that, those blue eyes began fluttering open, flinching at the light before a pained whimper left Agatha’s throat. Rio was by her side before her brain caught up, her body moving, a hand caressing her cheek just under the oxygen tubes. Her wife relaxed into it, pressing against the hand as her eyes remained closed for a moment longer. 

“Oh, mi amor, you’re alright,” Rio couldn’t stop herself from whispering, her heart practically cracking when blue eyes became alert– panicked as a hand wrapped tightly around her wrist– but the hand was shaking. “Shhh, está bien , mi amor. It’s me, sweetheart.” 

Agatha visibly relaxed, blinking now before turning her head away, another pained sound leaving her throat. Rio leaned over, peppering her cheeks and head with kisses until her wife relaxed, turning back to her to meet her lips. Warmth spread through Rio as a thumb was on her cheek, wiping away her tears, but instead she felt more on her cheeks, her wife’s mixing with hers. 

“Where is he?” her wife asked the moment they pulled away. 

She smiled, really smiled as stood up straight, helping her wife unsnap her gown as she spoke, “He’s right here– we’ve been waiting, but I think he’s been more anxious than I have been.”

Her wife stayed quiet, her arms staying at her sides as Rio unwrapped him from his blanket, causing a soft cry to echo into the room before placing him on her wife’s chest, skin to skin– and instantly, he quieted, nuzzling into the crest of Agatha’s breast as more tears ran down her wife’s face. Rio was quick to wipe them away, watching her wife slip into motherhood, a hand on his back, the other softly running through his curls. 

“You my dear Nicholas– you were made from scratch,” her wife whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his downy hair before looking up at Rio with blues brighter than Rio had ever seen.

She didn’t waste another second, leaning down and kissing her wife, a hand back on her cheek as their lips met, setting her heart ablaze with something she couldn’t even name. She loved Agatha– had known that since the day Agatha knocked on her door at three am telling her that they were girlfriends. One of the best days of Rio’s life… one of them, because after that was when Agatha told her yes in their rotten apartment during their PhDs. Then, it was their wedding day, then it was when Agatha told her she wanted to have a kid, and after that was when her wife first was pregnant… and now it was this… her wife’s lips against her, their tears mixing together, and their son, clinging to Agatha’s chest– both of them alive, strong, and whom she was so deeply in love with. 

Agatha gasped, pulling away– and for a split second, Rio thought she hurt her. Instead, they both looked down, seeing Nicholas was moving, clumsily on her chest, his mouth working against her– searching, rooting. Rio’s heart fluttered as she kissed her wife’s head before guiding Agatha’s arms around him. Her wife’s breath trembling as Rio murmured soft instructions, helping her cradle their son. Rio could tell her wife was still weak, her movements slow, not just in care, but in pure exhaustion. But Rio was prepared– ready to hold all three of them for the rest of her life and yet, instinct was also a powerful thing… so was love. Through the fog of exhaustion, through the weight of pain, and so many tears shed, Agatha’s arms held their son like she had done it a thousand times before. 

“That’s it, mi amor. Now, let him find you,” she whispered, brushing her lips against the corner of her wife’s.

They both watched as Nicholas, still with his eyes closed, mouth open and closed against her breast, whining softly, and grunting sleepily. He moved again– his mouth catching the edge of her nipple but failing and letting out another whine. Rio lifted her wife’s arms a little more, tilting him better before he tried again. Agatha inhaled sharply at the first latch, her body becoming rigid before relaxing as their baby began to nurse for the first time from her. It was awkward, a little messy as it leaked from the corner of his mouth for a moment before mother and son settled. A tiny hand reached up, finding her wife’s hair, holding it as he did to Rio. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling against the tubes before spilling over them as soft suckles filled the room, more eager than the first time as he hummed in pure content before brown eyes opened, staring directly into Agatha’s eyes and never leaving. Her wife laughed, quietly, weakly, choking on her emotions as both of them could only stare in wonder. Agatha lifted her hand, a finger just feathering over his cheek and they both watched as his eyes fluttered at the feeling before going back to sucking with a sharp demand. 

“Gods, he already looks so much like you,” her wife murmured more to herself than to Rio.

But Rio saw it even more now– the way Nicholas’ skin was just a few shades darker than the pale fragile skin of her wife– the way he melted like she did when Agatha caressed their cheeks– and fuck, he was just hours old and already knew the meaning of that gesture… how full of love that gesture was from his mama without even seeing it for himself. 

“You won both bets,” her wife then broke the silence, a glare being casted her way. 

Rio forced herself to flinch– even though now, there was no strength behind it– at least to give her wife the dignity of it. She shuffled up shyly, making herself seem smaller, because if her wife was strong enough in this moment, she would have earned a fair tongue lashing. 

“And if I tell you that I want to change that last prize?” she asked more than stated, sitting on the edge of the bed as Nicky continued to suckle.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her face tilting as if to say, Go on, dig yourself deep. 

Rio tucked some of her hair away from her wife’s face, mindful of the strand of hair Nicky kept in his fist, “What I want is that you allow me to take care of you and our son for the next six weeks without hearing complaints from you, mi amor. You’ll allow me to serve you breakfast in bed, allow yourself to sleep whenever and wherever, eat when I tell you to, and allow me to get up with you when it comes to feeding him.” 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, before letting a harsh huff that almost disturbed the baby latched to her breast, “I hate you.”

“I missed you,” the words slipped from her mouth faster than she could stop them. 

That both froze at that, Rio wanting to set fire to her own tears as they came– holding images of Agatha bleeding out on their kitchen floor– to the puddle of blood she knelt in that was there in a blink of an eye, to Rio frantically yelling in the lobby, the nurses coddling her like she was the same age as Nicky– to Rio holding on to their son– distracting herself with him so didn’t have to think about never being able to kiss her wife again. 

“Rio–” 

Knock. Knock. 

Both of their heads lifted at that, Rio wiping her tears and forcing a more professional façade on her face as the dumbass doctor doesn’t even wait for them to give the go ahead. She swooped in, a blonde girl bouncing in with the energy of Arizona Robbins but on steroids. Rio felt her wife bristle, holding Nicky closer who refused to pull away from his mama. 

“How are we feeling, Mrs. Harkness?”

Her wife curled her lip, “Vidal, it’s Harkness-Vidal.”

The doctor seemed to wave her off, “Of course– well, your vitals look great, baby is doing wonderful–”

Rio stood from the bed, “She’s going to be fine?” 

The doctor looked down, writing on her chart, “We’re unsure how much blood loss happened before you arrived to the hospital but while you were here you lost seven hundred and fifty milliliters. The blood loss could be upwards of two liters so we’re keeping you for a couple days– but we will see with tomorrow morning’s labs. You’re free to start eating solids when you are ready as well, Mrs. Harkness-Vidal.” 

The doctor approached the infusion stand, looking over the tubes before staring down at Nicholas, her smile growing brighter, “He has a good latch. Just, if you fall asleep, the baby goes in mom’s arms or in the crib. When you need to use the bathroom, call the nurses, they’ll help you, okay? Any questions?”

Agatha refused to look at her, her eyes already slowly blinking, but never leaving their son who was drifting off right along with her. He still suckled, his eyes staring straight up at her with pure trust– pure adoration– his whole world holding him safely. Rio cleared her throat, getting the doctor to look up at her. 

“When do you suggest visitors? We have a rabbit at home and the kitchen is still covered in blood,” she murmured quietly, scared of her wife overhearing. 

The doctor nodded, “Stay with your wife for today. And then tomorrow, visiting hours are nine hours to twelve and then sixteen hours to twenty-one. We only allow up to three visitors with a baby.” 

Rio thanked her, waiting until the door closed again before turning back to her wife who was weakly moving Nicky, placing him on the center of her chest and moving the night gown to cover her breasts. She was beside her in two strides, a hand caressing the back of his head before the hand moved to cup her wife’s cheek. Their lips met softly, noses brushing– soothing her pounding heart like a balm. Her wife was okay– their son even more so who kept warm from both the blanket and Agatha’s chest. 

“Lay with me,” Agatha whispered against her lips when they pulled away.

Her eyebrows raised as she caressed her cheek, hesitation filtering through her, “I don’t want to jostle you, mi amor. And–”

“Rio, my pussy fucking hurts. I’m pretty sure they just fisted into my cervix and then some to stop the bleeding so if you don’t fucking hold me right now— I’m gonna shove my fucking foot so far up your ass, that your son will be asking why you walk with a limp when he’s old enough to speak,” her wife snarled, startling her into stillness.

Then Rio let a long low chuckle, shaking her head as her eyes closed in aspiration.

Oh, her wife was going to be just fine. 

“Easy, my love,” she chided as she squeezed beside her wife, sitting up more so her wife could adjust her head on her chest. “We have tiny ears present.” 

Agatha shifted, angling her body into a more comfortable position without moving the baby on her chest, “Yeah, well, he’s not my son unless he’s swearing like a sailor at age four.” 

And Rio had no doubt that will be their son in four years. 

Rio had waited until her wife fell asleep before moving, gathering Nicholas into her arms and setting him in the crib just as the nurse came in. Nicky was checked on before the nurse quietly showed Rio how to swaddle him in the blanket her wife had made. On his wrist came the hospital band : 

Harkness-Vidal, Nicholas S.

DOB: 05/17/2035

They didn’t get to sleep long though. In three hours, a nurse was there, shaking Rio to wake her wife and their son for him to feed. And it was then they set into a routine, Agatha sleeping right with her son, leaving Rio to either sleep with her or watch over both of them. 

Not even twenty-four hours old and Nicky was already their whole world. 

It was around three in the afternoon when Rio ordered the sushi platter for her wife and ordered fried rice for herself. Her wife had lit up the moment Rio placed the wooden platter across her lap, filled with all her favorite sushi, mainly nigiri, onigiri, and maki rolls. None of them with avocado as her wife hated the texture. Agatha had eaten with Nicky still feeding from her, her smile bright as she had spoken to him in between bites. Rio sat on the edge of the bed, eating her own rice as she watched her wife and son only with pure adoration. 

It wasn’t until late at night when Rio was back to holding her wife after she cried from a mix of pain, emotion, and exhaustion, did Agatha talk of what happened. 

Hands glided through thick hair, gently tugging out knots as Rio sat up on the bed, holding her wife to her chest as she finally quieted from her cries. Rio didn’t speak though, knowing that this was a different time of pain– of exhaustion. Agatha’s body shook, but nonetheless pressed against her with need, feeling soothed by the simple gestures of hands through her hair. To the right, Nicholas slept, re-swaddled in the green blanket, his little breaths, making the wool rise and fall carefully. 

“Rio, my love,” Agatha croaked, making her body jump, her heart stuttering in surprise as she looked down, her own hand going to cradle her wife’s jaw.

“Cariño, ” she cooed softly, her thumb stroking against the bone. 

Agatha fisted her shirt, hiding her face, and as a hot breath whispered against her chest, “Thank you.”

She remained, quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in as her thumb never stopped along her jaw. She breathed in steadily, licking at her tears on her cheeks before kissing her head. 

“ Siempre , mi amor, y para siempre. ”  

A loud snort startled her, Rio looking down in shock as her wife laughed, snorting as she buried her face further into Rio. She didn’t know how to react, frozen with her wife atop of her– one moment collapsed in her arms, the next laughing hysterically. 

“Agatha?” she tried gently, but panic had laced its way in. “Agatha, do I need to call the nurse? ¿Qué coño? ” 

Her wife shook her head, still snorting softly, “We fucking had him in the kitchen.”

She cracked a weak smile, shaking her head as her wife continued to uncontrollably laugh against her.

“At least it wasn’t the highway,” Rio murmured, looking over to him. 

Her wife only laughed louder at that, Nicky squirming at the sound before going still. 

Agatha looked up at her, face blotchy and red, but her wife was still fucking glowing. Blues sparkled, her lips in that smile that had been permanent since the moment Agatha saw Rio holding Nicholas. Lips pressed to her before her wife was laughing again. 

“Mm, imagine him being a teenager, giving us attitude, standing in that kitchen, and you get to tell him that you pulled him out of my vagina right where he is standing,” Agatha snorted, and this time Rio couldn’t hold back her own laughter.

She pulled her wife against her, mindful of her stomach as she nuzzled into the top of her head, “Speaking of that kitchen, I should go clean it tomorrow before it starts to smell too bad. Plus, Scratchy shouldn’t be alone tomorrow.”

Her wife quieted at that, her gaze on their son before clinging to her again. She didn’t have to speak, Rio already knew. 

“I was thinking of calling Lilia– she is the only one who won’t snitch to the rest of the coven. She can come so you’re not alone and then take Señor Scratchy to watch until you both are discharged. I’ll come back with food, Nando’s, or leftovers, or if you want more sushi. Whatever my queen wants to feed our little prince.” 

Rio was hit for the last sentence, “Gross, don’t get sappy on me, Vidal.” 

She merely chuckled, “You love it.” 

Her wife shook her head, “I love you.”  

When Agatha fell asleep, and Nicky not due to wake for another three hours, Rio stepped out into the lobby, calling Lilia. 

“Rio? Did something happen? You never call,” worry laced her voice the moment the phone dialed once. 

She smiled faintly, though her lips trembled under the weight of the day’s unravelling. The hallway light buzzed above her, nurses passing with quiet footsteps as she leaned back against the drywall, hand gripping tight on the phone. 

“Yeah,” she released her breath. “ He’s here. ” 

Unlike what Oriana would do, Lilia didn’t screech with excitement. Her breath came out steady, a small breeze to ground them both in the moment before her wife’s best friend spoke. 

“When?” she asked quietly.

“This morning? Sometime around three? I don’t know,” she started rambling. “All I knew, I woke up and she was in the kitchen. I just acted.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. 

“Are you saying you delivered him?” Lilia’s voice was soaked in shock. 

“In the kitchen,” she replied, almost sheepishly, as if the absurdity of it couldn’t be believed despite just laughing about it. “Agatha just looked at me and I looked, and he was crowning– but…”

She trailed off, feeling the fathom sensation on her legs.

Lilia spoke carefully, as if she was speaking to a deer that would easily fright, “Rio? Did something happen?” 

She nodded as if Lilia could see her, “Hemorrhage. She’s stable now– her and the baby are fast asleep in the room. I just need a favor.”

“Of course, anything,” Lilia didn’t miss a beat. 

“I need you to come to the hospital tomorrow and sit with her while I go back home and clean up and grab her favorite food. And also, to give you Scratchy, if you can watch him.”   

Lilia hummed, “Yes, I can watch him. Anything else? Do you want me to bring anything? I can bring wine for us to celebrate.” 

Rio chuckled, rubbing her eyes as exhaustion clung tight to her, “No, Agatha still can’t drink. But, also, tell no one yet. Please. Agatha needs quiet, peace, while she recovers and Nicky already hates everyone but his mothers.” 

“Mm, he only likes you. Sounds like someone familiar.”

She breathed out, a sigh ghosting her lips, “Gods, he’s going to be just like her, but wait till you see him.” 

“Send a picture?” the music professor asked. 

“No pictures,” she said a little too quickly, before softening. “Not yet. Can’t have Oriana bursting through the room until we are home and they are safe.” 

Lilia 

If you ever asked Lilia if she thought her childhood best friend would ever become a mother, she would have laughed until the stars fell from the sky. And then, she watched one of the greatest love stories ever told before her eyes. And this time it was real and raw. Her heart had tightened when Rio mentioned that she was the one who delivered their son in their kitchen and then stopped upon the word ‘ hemorrhage’. 

Agatha hated hospitals, always had, even if Lilia would eventually get there after Evanora left her to fend for herself, surrounded by machines and unknown doctors who were too cold with their medical professionalism and yet, with all that professionalism, they missed a girl being abused by her own mother multiple times. Both Lilia and Agatha had hated– and Agatha more scared of– doctors since. So, it wasn’t a surprise that Agatha most likely pushed through her contractions, ignoring them until the very last second. And Rio, wife of the year, fucking spouse of the decade, didn’t flinch, just acted to help her wife and son. And instead of leaving Agatha to deal with the mess at home, Rio– who trusted no one with the love of her life– asked Lilia to come in… Lilia was honored more than words could express. 

Rio asked her to bring nothing, but what kind of best friend would she be if she did? She stayed up late, baking Agatha’s favorite snickerdoodle cookies and yes, gingerbread cookies. She cut out the shapes for them in rabbits, decorated them to look like Señor Scratchy before writing Nicholas’ name in icing of purple and green along the backs of the bunnies. It only took her four hours– and Snickerdoodles were easy. She went to bed at two in the morning, woke up at eight and was at the hospital by nine am sharp. But before that, she wrapped them all in a basket, figuring the nurses could also eat them as an apology for dealing with the Harkness-Vidals. She half wondered if she could turn into a fly on the wall to listen to their gossip. But laying on top of the cookies was a gift for both Rio and Agatha, a set of wool pajama pants. She had them custom made– black and purple. The purple was lavender with rabbits all over them and for Rio, a black base with green vines and leaves all over them, forming the bones of her legs and because she knew how much Agatha loves Rio’s ass, two monstera leaves printed on the asscheeks. And the reason why she knew was because if Agatha was drunk, she was lovesick for Rio. If she was high, only Rio could talk Agatha into doing anything sensible like drinking water. If Agatha was crossed, Agatha would not shut up about Rio’s ass.  

Now, she stood before a desk, clutching the basket tightly. A nurse looked, heavy bags under her eyes as she narrowed to the basket with a sigh. 

“Who are you here for?” she asked without an ounce of enthusiasm. 

Lilia swallowed, “Agatha Harkness-Vidal, she should be in the postpartum wing.” 

The nurse looked up, “Callie!”

Another stopped, stepping forward in bright pink scrubs and blonde hair pinned in the back, “Yeah?”

“She’s here to see ‘Copy&paste’. Can you take her to their room?” 

Lilia stared, her eyes widening at the name ‘Copy&paste.’ The nurses just chuckled as the blonde motioned her to follow. She clung to the basket, looking around, flinching at the sound of another mother bringing a baby into the world. Yet, she couldn’t help but ask the nurse as they turned down a quieter corridor. 

“What do you mean ‘copy&paste’?” she said quietly.

Callie didn’t slow down, but Lilia saw the smirk on her lips, “They didn’t send you a picture? I won’t lie, most babies are not cute when they are born, sometimes getting a little squished on the way out, but this baby– adorable, and yet, it seems his mothers must have copy-pasted him from the mom who didn’t birth him.” 

Lilia stumbled a little, her foot caught as she muffled her own laugh, “You’re saying he looks like Rio? Already?”

“Yep,” the nurse nodded, popping the ‘P’ at the end. “Just wait till you see her holding him. Can barely tell the difference except slightly lighter hair.” 

They stopped at a wooden door and there on a whiteboard was : 

Harkness-Vidal 

Agatha and Nicholas 

“We will be in soon. If Copy&paste is cluster feeding, he should be feeding right now.”

Lilia waited until the nurse walked away before knocking lightly. There was a moment of hush before the door creaked open and before her stood Rio, her hair held back in a claw clip, and brown tired eyes staring down at her, but nonetheless sparkling with happiness. She wore a green sweatshirt, green matching shorts, and comfortable slides as her smile was as bright as the one she wore on her wedding day. 

“Lilia,” she smiled, stepping back and allowing her into the room. 

It was quiet, only the sound was of music on very low in the background and soft suckling filling the room. She looked up and for a second, all she could do was stare. Agatha, her best friend, sat in a hospital bed, perfectly content, glowing even. Her hair was freshly brushed, braided in a long Dutch braid with oddly two pieces hanging out in the front, deliberately, messily taken out from the braid. She followed the strand down, finding it pulled taunt in front of her face, but her eyes were focused downward. And holding the end of her hair tightly, was a very, very tiny hand. Stubby fingers clung to it, not really pulling, just holding against her sternum. And nestled there– curled into Agatha’s chest, wrapped in the blanket Lilia recognized Agatha knitting before, was a baby. Copy&paste. His face was partially hidden, turned into his mother as he drank noisily, humming in a way that content babies do. But, even from the doorway, even with his face hidden, and eyes only for Mama, Lilia could see it. The cheeks, the skin, even the shape of his head was Rio through and through save for the thick dark hair on his head. Too thick to be Rio’s, and too dark to be Agatha’s. 

Agatha looked up and met Lilia’s gaze. Blues were sparkling, her face bare of makeup, etched with exhaustion as well– slightly pale, but Gods, Lilia had never seen such softness in Agatha Harkness, not even for Rio Vidal. Her best friend looked like a whole new person, someone softer and all the fiercer at the same time. Lilia’s lips parted in awe, a breath caught as Agatha’s smile was directed at her.

“Lilia,” she smirked now, her gloating best friend back before her, but still, the sharpness was missing. 

“Agatha,” Lilia echoed, but her voice was catching. 

She stepped in slowly, like being accessed to some holy grounds guarded by Hekabe, one of Hecate’s hounds, herself. Behind her was probably the worst of all hounds to exist, aggressive, possessive, and worse– a mother of the child before her eyes. Okay, so Lilia was scared of Rio. It was fair, the woman took great joy of scaring Lilia back in their college days just by hissing at her. 

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, lifting the basket. “Your favorite cookies and some PJ pants. I ordered them myself.” 

Rio let out a tired laugh and closed the door behind her. 

“Gods, you’re the best” she muttered, brushing past to take the basket and set it on the small cot by the window. “She’s been craving something sweet since this morning.” 

Agatha tilted her head slightly, “Snickerdoodles?” 

“Of course,” Lilia came closer to the bed, careful to stay just on the edge. 

Her hands were already itching to hold him, but she didn’t ask. She already knew the answer, especially when the guard dog of a mom came up behind her, already handing a cookie to her wife.  

“And gingerbread rabbits,” she added, watching Agatha stare at his name written in green.

“How did you know his name?” she asked, barely able to set her head back unless she pulled her hair away from stubby fingers.

They all remained quiet at that question though, Rio turning her back as she pulled out the PJs, ignoring her wife’s glare.

“ Cariño, look! It’s those fluffy PJ bottoms! Lilia even got you bunnies on them and– why are their leaves on the ass of mine?” 

Lilia bit her lip to stifle a laugh as she watched Agatha’s jaw clench. 

“ Rio,” Agatha growled lowly, making the guard dog stiff before turning slowly. 

Her wife kicked at the ground like a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar, “I might have let his name slip when you forced me to go out with Hela, Alice, and Jen.” 

At that, both heads whipped to Lilia, “So how do you know?” 

She shrugged, “Alice told me.” 

They both rolled their eyes at that before a displeased grunt echoed into the room. It was the only warning before a soft wail followed. Lilia stepped back as both mothers shot into action, barely sparing her a glance as Rio grabbed a burp cloth Lilia had made. Lilia smiled, real and soft, as Rio placed it on her shoulder, Nicholas squirming against his mother before his other mother took him into her arms. 

“ Ven aqui, mijito, ” Rio murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek as her hand moved to better support his head and the other, rubbing his back as his cries slowly subsided. 

Lilia turned to her best friend, “You two already have it down– he’s what, two days old?”

Agatha smiled, but her gaze was on her wife and son, Rio swaying as she murmured loving nonsense in Spanish, “Yeah, we have, but… she’s good with him.” 

Lila reached out, setting a hand on her knee, “So are you– I already see it.”

A small sound echoed behind them, cooing following it and Nicky was placed back in Agatha’s arms. That was when Lilia saw his face, his full face. Big, solemn eyes blinked up at Agatha– and Lilia’s gaze was flicking between Rio and Nicholas… warm brown eyes, the same soft cheeks, that same little button on the top of their noses. Gods… even the shape of the eyes matched Rio’s– wide, almond, and something that made him look far too knowing for someone so new to the world. As if there was something more ancient than the earth in his soul. 

“Gods, he really is Copy&paste,” she muttered more to herself than anyone. 

Rio chuckled before hiding it with a cough when Agatha snapped her head up, “What?” 

Lilia shook her head, “Nothing– he just has your chin.” 

Rio left minutes later, kissing her wife and son goodbye before reluctantly heading out, catching an uber back home. They were alone, Nicky back to feeding after being burped and once more clinging to a strand of Agatha’s hair. 

“He is obsessed with your hair,” she smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Agatha smiled, caressing his tiny cheek with her thumb, “Yeah, just like his mami .”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes never leaving him, “He really is Rio.” 

His mother snorted, before her voice softened, no longer edged with a sharpness that was always vowed to be there. 

“ Nine months . For nine months I carried him– and he has the fucking audacity coming out a clone of Rio.” 

Lilia chuckled low, watching as the babe unlatched and turned to look up at his mother, both hands just holding onto her hair as he cooed. Agatha caressed his cheek with her thumb, causing another coo to ring into the room. He lifted his arms towards her face, refusing to let go, and yet the message was clear in baby language. He wanted to be closer. Tiny legs crunched up as his mother lifted him, laying him on her chest, her heart just beneath his ear. He nuzzled there, Mini Rio’s face scrunching up in a yawn as chubby hands pulled the strands of hair closer to him.  

“He’s perfect,” Agatha whispered into his head. 

Lilia smirked, “I’ll make sure to tell Rio you said that.” 

“ Don’t you dare. I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

Agatha

She felt bad… 

well, sort of…

not really. 

Actually, not at all. 

She pushed a nine-pound baby out of her vagina and promptly bled out in their kitchen. 

Agatha deserved this. 

She deserved sleeping the moment Nicky was done feeding– after she stood, and walked the two steps to his crib, and standing over him, her ass probably sticking out from the hospital gown. Lilia only stood by her side, there if she were to fall, as they watched her swaddled son sleep– the happiest little baby as he even cooed in his sleep– probably dreaming of the womb or maybe of one of his protectors. The one that looked like him, the one who had that voice that would whisper to him through the night, the one that he constantly reached out to when he felt the pressure… the one that caught him the moment he was roughly shoved into a world too bright, too loud– a world that wasn’t always sounded by a steady rhythm of a drum– beating all around him. Or maybe he was dreaming of that voice– as soothing as rain on a metal roof, as ethereal as whales singing from the deep. The one that would sing a familiar song of a road– or ramble long lessons of some Old English story that in the end– was somehow a classic. 

Most of all, she hoped that he dreamed of steady, safe brown eyes staring down at him, of a bright gaped-tooth smile that only she or he could bring– of honey-toned arms that were strong, grounding, and soft all at once. 

That’s what she dreamed of– well, first was the pain, the nightmare– 

The moment her water broke, stumbling into their own kitchen until those rich soil eyes were on her and stayed with her. And then they were ripped away– lights too bright– too demanding– so many eyes glowing at her that she half wondered if she was in hell as hands were on her. Buttons were beeping, screaming in warning– becoming faster and faster as her breath was lost– those brown eyes were lost. Doctors yelled her name, nurses restrained her, and it all went dark again. And then, she was back– Rio was back, holding him. 

Agatha woke up again, her eyes flickering through the room, panicked. The lights were dimmed, only sunlight peeking through the blinds and curtains. But it was enough to plunge her into the pit of fear– her eyes widening, her breath stopping as tremors started in her hands, clutching the railing of the bed. 

Where was Rio? 

Where was her son? 

Where was Lilia?

And then she saw them . 

They were standing over Nicholas, Rio having one hand in the crib as she murmured softly to their friend. It was then that Lilia, nodded her head, and grabbed her purse before walking out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. Her wife didn’t see her wake up, her eyes remained downcast at Nicky, but that’s when the dream haze wore off. 

Brown eyes were dark, not bright– not golden like they normally shone when looking down at their not-so-little victory. They were puffy, red rimmed, overflowing with tears that were now painting the cheeks she loved to hold so tenderly. She couldn’t move for a moment, frozen as Rio’s jaw trembled, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her body strained– fighting itself from breaking, and yet, breaking even further. 

“Rio,” she whispered, too scared to startle her. 

Her wife looked up at her and the moment their eyes locked, Rio crumbled. She crouched down to the ground, out of sight, and hidden by their son’s crib. Agatha stood weakly, her stomach cramping still, and Gods, her vagina fucking hurt– sore as fuck– as if she had been ripped open… maybe she had. But none of that mattered, what mattered was her wife, the strongest woman she knew, was trembling on the ground, crying into her hands. 

Her knees were brought up to her chest and she was in a different outfit. She wore one of Agatha’s biker shorts and a sweatshirt that Agatha swore went missing years ago. Her fingertips were raw, the nails shorter than ever– and Rio’s nails were short… but not that short. Agatha’s heart lurched, everything in her wanting to fall to her knees and pull her wife into her arms. But her body was healing and something told her that if she tried, Rio would freak out harder. 

“My love,” she murmured, her fingers running through raven hair on the top of her wife’s head. “I need you to stand up for me, please. You can do it, sweetheart.” 

Agatha coaxed her wife a little more, keeping her tone calm, but strong– meanwhile everything in her wanted to break down crying with her. Instead, she held it, watching her wife get up on unstable legs. Together they made their way to the too small bed, her wife burying her face into her neck, the moment they laid down. Agatha laid on her back, letting her fingers scratch over her wife’s scalp, playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck, and back to her scalp. She didn’t speak. Speaking would make things worse for Rio when she was like this. So, she just held her as much as her body would allow, kissing the top of her head as her neck became sticky with tears.

They laid like that for a long time, enough where nurses came in twice, checking their sleeping son and asking if she was alright. She nodded them off, a begging look in her eyes, telling them she was fine for now. But her wife wasn’t, because the third hour mark hit, Rio was still crying, and their son was growing fussy in his crib, his lips smacking– whining softly. 

Agatha kissed Rio’s head once and then again, peppering it with kisses, getting her head to move where she could kiss a soaked cheek, “Sweetheart, Nicky needs to be fed.”

Her wife nodded, keeping her head into her neck for a moment longer, before sitting up. Rio stretched, cracking her neck before lifting their son from his crib. Agatha unbuttoned the gown as she brought him over, putting him in her arms before sitting beside her. He latched with greed, he sucked hard, his hand already against her skin, searching for her hair. Instead, Rio laid beside her, placing her own finger in his hand, watching as it could barely wrap around her pointer. They laughed softly, watching his eyes squint, listening to the suckles and swallows as he refused to let go of her wife’s finger.

Then, petals brushed against the top of her breast, not in any means sexual, just there, sweetly. Another was placed to her shoulder, then to her neck, her cheek, and finally, her lips where she met her halfway. Humming into the kiss, she leaned partially towards her, as much as she was allowed as her heart finally started to settle. They pulled away, but not far– never far. Their noses brushed, their foreheads touching as warmth went straight to her bones, a smile creeping into her lips, unable to be contained.

Gods, she was falling in love all over again, and the best part was that she got to do it with the woman she had loved for fifteen years.

But the tension in Rio’s shoulders was still there, latching onto her even as they breathed in sync together, calming each other the only way they knew they could without words. For once, their eyes weren’t on each other, they were down at the baby who stared back up at them with equal love and trust. The pudgy little hand let go of his mami’s finger, before grasping at it again, bringing it closer to him, his eyes wide and curious before they focused back on them. Nicky then squinted into that milk drunk expression, making them both chuckle. 

Agatha flinched when the nose against hers pulled away, her heart back to hammering as she looked up into large almond brown eyes, the tears falling silently as Rio’s voice was a hoarse whisper, “I cleaned the kitchen, but–”

Her breaths grew faster again, her chest sucking in, and sucking in– never breathing out, “I-I scrubbed– and I-I scr-scrubbed– but– but–” 

“My love,” she interrupted gently. “I’m here. Estoy aquí, mi amor. ” 

She settled her hand over the tiny one, where Nicky was grasping. 

Agatha kissed her lips, mumbling into them. 

“It’s okay,” she breathed, “You did everything right, my love,” placing another kiss, tasting salt, “You delivered him, and you saved me.” 

Her thumb whipped the tears away, her lips pressing everywhere they could as she held both her son’s and wife’s hands. Reminding not only her wife, but also herself, that through it all, through the blood that wasn’t yet lifted from their floors, through all the pain, through all the trauma before them… they got the best thing from it. And sure, they were scarred a little from it, but they shared it, and from that death– almost death– came life.

“It’s okay now… 

Take a breath…

Please, my love…

breathe.”

Agatha nuzzled her head into the pillow of the couch. Tired of her bed, but too tired to try to do anything. Her eyes were heavy, closing and refusing to open as The Phantom of the Opera sang quietly from the television. Other than that, the house was quiet and still. She had just laid Nicky down for his nap… or maybe that was a couple hours ago. Her breasts felt full again and yet, she swore he had just fed.    

They were home. Finally. Four days in the hospital. Four days of lying in a hospital bed, of really only walking around the halls, of being monitored, of too many people that weren’t her wife seeing her basically naked. And to top it all off, the moment she got her wife to calm down after reliving the experience, cleaning the blood from their floors– Nicky decided to stay latched to her. Without pattern he would cry, wanted to be in her arms, wanted to be nursed, and he was dramatic about it. The nurses assured them that it was normal, and somehow the third day was just as bad. 

But now, Nicky was two weeks and two days old… and developed a schedule of waking them up every two to three hours. She caught on though, finding it was exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes he wanted to nurse and he always nursed between twenty to thirty minutes. He could never be under fed, but if it was over– either her and her wife would receive a gift of spit up on their shirts, their hair, or one time Nicky got it on Rio’s face. Agatha had only laughed, and called it karma for Rio constantly licking her face. Yet the nights were long, repetitively getting up to go to his room before he would cry, sitting in a rocking chair– or Rio going to get him and Agatha lying on her side in bed as he fed. Rio would stay through it all, rubbing her back, kissing her quietly– sometimes feeding her snacks through the night while Nicky fed. In the mornings, she would wake up to Rio bringing Nicky in before disappearing down the hall to make eggs. Nothing fancy, no over-easy, no sunny side up– just scrambled and some toast. They would go to the living room and practically collapse, Nicky either feeding or sleeping in the bassinet with Señor Scratchy laying nearby. 

In truth, they didn’t really know what day it was, just counting how long they had him. Holding each other when the other cried– mainly Agatha crying. Postpartum was a bitch. Her hormones felt everywhere– she was bleeding, well it was normal for postpartum, but it was annoying. She was moody– more than usual, crying at everything, snapping at Rio– which Agatha would cry immediately afterwards. But Rio would just hold her, kiss her lips, take Nicky the moment she was done feeding him to burp him and rock him to sleep so she could get the most rest as possible. Her nipples were sore– luckily not cracked as Nicky’s latch was perfect, but they hurt. She still had cramps that had her pausing in between sentences. And her wife would bring her creams, hold her in their long showers together– wash her hair, brush her teeth when she was too tired to go to the bathroom– would also know when she needed the heated pad to ease the cramps, still anointed oils to her belly– drawing runes of healing, strength, and protection. 

Rio would sit and watch musicals with her for when it was a comfort thing she needed between sleeping and dozing off. And not that Rio knew that Agatha knew… Rio hated musicals, but she watched them for her. When it came to dinner, Lilia would drop off enough food for a week every Monday. At least that’s what Lilia said– again, Agatha had no idea what day of the week it was. 

All she knew was that she was half awake– well barely, she could hear around her but her body refused to let her open her eyes. She was content that way and the best part was she could sleep on her back. So, she laid there, her hair in a ruined braid, an arm covering her eyes, pretty sure there was spit up on her nursing tank top, and comfortably in the overly-fluffy pajama pants Lilia bought her. Señor Scratchy laid at her feet, his fur brushing up against her as he groomed himself, but that bunny never left her side the moment Lilia returned him. He only moved when Rio was in the way or if their son was there, yet Scratchy kept a watchful eye on him. When Nicholas slept in the bassinet in the living room for the first time, they watched as he peered in before blinking up at both of them, his nose twitching at them almost to say, What the fuck is that?

But then, he just began sleeping near him, never touching the bassinet, never touching him when he was awake, feeding from Agatha– just there, watching, waiting for the mothers to formally introduce them. 

Something was touching her face, something soft and familiar. First it was her cheek, just a simple press that made Agatha flinch away before stilling again. Then another to her neck. She groaned, refusing to lift her arm to see what it was before it was attacking her face. Peppering over her– her cheeks, her jaw,  her neck, her nose, and when it reached her lips– she bared her teeth, making Rio kiss them instead. 

“Eugh,” her wife protested. “I hate when you do that.”

She didn’t move, just smirked, “Mm, and I hate when you wake me up.” 

Rio huffed a laugh before kissing her lips again. Agatha allowed her, her own lips pressing back, her arm falling from her face so she could cup her wife’s cheeks. 

“Unfortunately, cariño, you forgot to set an alarm and Nicky wants his lunch,” her wife hummed before kissing her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll get him.”

Agatha watched as her wife stood, practically skipping down the hall to the nursery. She raised an eyebrow, something in her telling that something was up. Rio had energy… a lot of energy. After this feeding session, both her and Rio either curled up in bed or the couch and fell asleep until the alarm went off. And after the nap, was another feed before Nicky would actually stay awake for a little bit, cooing up at them or happily bouncing in Rio’s arms. That was when Rio had energy. So yeah, her wife was up to something. 

“ Cariño!” her wife called from the hall. “Close your eyes!” 

Agatha turned her head, sitting up on the couch as she unbuttoned the flap of fabric over her breast, already feeling the let down of milk ready for her son. 

“My love, what are you doing?”
Her wife was cooing at the baby, laughing at him as he responded back with fierce baby grunts. 

Rio laughed low, “Just close your eyes. It’s a surprise.”

A surprise? 

For her? 

What could possibly Rio have planned? 

She hadn’t left the house since they brought him home– well, minus running to get a different nipple cream and a new heating pad, and she was back home faster than ever before. They ordered everything else online, from the postpartum fucking diapers– yeah, she had to wear fucking diapers too– new rugs in the kitchen to cover the blood stains Rio couldn’t get out, to ice packs for her vagina and, new stretch mark cream that Agatha insisted on from Greece. She would never admit it, but some nights she loved when Rio would kiss the stretch marks, would gently nuzzle into her belly where it all loose skin and winkles, and wear that stupid puppy-dog smile on her face before rubbing the cream over all the stretch marks, but would always stop with a kiss to each area– from her belly, to her thighs and hips, and even her ass. Gods, she loved that stupid dork. 

Before she could ponder more, she heard excited footstops and Rio humming to calm him down. He had to be fussy. She was surprised he wasn’t crying. Normally, a minute over his time for eating– that means his whole world is ending. She heard the little whine from his throat that meant he was hungry and was tempted to snatch him off Rio so he could be fed. Instead, she waited until the couch shifted and felt her wife’s leg against her own. 

“Okay, open!” 

Agatha did, and she blinked… and then she blinked again just to be sure what she was seeing. 

Rio had the stupidest grin on her face, her cheeks stretched and puffed up where she had thought about pinching them more than once. Her almond eyes squinted, the brown glistening in pure joy, and that gap between her teeth proudly on display. Because sitting in her lap was their son… in a white and caramel spotted bunny onesie. His hands and feet covered, pink little paws on all of all four sleeves. Nicky stared up at her with the same big brown eyes, blinking unknowingly, and smacking his lips as his nose even twitched like a bunny’s. And on his head was a hood with bunny ears standing up. 

“Rio… what is this?” she asked in awe, her heart on steroids, unable to take in the sight in front of her. 

Her wife giggled, lifting him to place kisses on his chubby cheeks, “Our conejito! ‘Cause you called him a bunny when he was still in your belly. It was gonna be a surprise when we left the hospital, but I kinda forgot– here!” 

Rio handed him over, kissing her cheek before running off somewhere else.

“I have one more thing!” 

Gods, help me if he has the same exact personality , she thought, eyes following her wife as she ran out of the back door like an excited toddler. 

She turned back her son, cupping his cheek, and tapping his nose, “You, mister, are too fucking cute.” 

He smacked his lips in response, his face scrunching up in protest. Agatha didn’t bother to cover the snort that left her, warmth spilling from her chest as she pulled a breast free. Lips smacked again as she adjusted the bunny-hooded baby in her arms, pulling him to settle him at her breast. He latched on instantly, greedily, happily filling his belly without a care in the world. Useless gloved hands flexed, reaching up before settling against her, eyelashes fluttering as delicately as a butterfly. 

“ Conejito ,” she whispered, voice barely audible above the little snuffles and gulps of milk. “Do you even know what your mami just did to you? You’re matching with the little bunny at my feet.”

She rocked slightly, brushing her fingers down the bunny suit’s velvet-soft ear, still disbelieving. Nicky’s feet twitched beneath the padded paws, and she could already imagine the stories Rio would tell him later– about matching with the bunny, how she always tried melting Mama with costumes– which Agatha was sure there was more to come. 

The backdoor grated open and Rio was back, hurrying from around the couch to face her. She stood in front of her this time, sweat on her brow from the hot outside air, and she was pretty sure there was a smear of dirt on her cheek. But it was what was in her arms that made her freeze, her breath catching in her as a bucket of guilt splashed over her. 

Rio was holding a bouquet of azaleas, like it was something sacred. Each bloom was open, full, and fat with dark purple shades– clustered so carefully so none were crushed, and bound together with a ribbon of green and purple. Her eyes flickered back to her wife’s excited, but loving brown eyes, and the guilt was now sticking to her skin, to her bones. 

Her wife was smiling at her like she was gifted beauty from Aphrodite. Not staring at her like she was a mess as if she wasn’t still heavy and showing from carrying, as if there weren’t deep, dark bags under her eyes, as if she wasn’t sitting on their couch, with the same outfit as yesterday on, breastfeeding their son. 

Agatha felt her eyes counting the flowers, narrowing over them until her vision went blurry. 

Fifteen… fifteen azaleas… because today was June second. 

June second… their wedding anniversary… ten years of marriage today, but Rio had always claimed she felt as if they were always married, and today was just her favorite day of signing the papers for it to be official.   

“Happy anniversary, cariño, ” her wife set the flowers down on the table, her smile still bright as her gaze drifted to their son who was in milk heaven. 

When they glided back up, Rio’s face paled, and Agatha realized she was crying, tears dripping off her cheeks. Agatha sniffed sharply, the guilt cleaving through her like a blade. 

“Oh Gods– my love– it’s our anniversary– Rio, I-I’m so s-sorry– I didn’t–”

A kiss stopped the ramble, warm and firm. Her wife sat beside her, a hand on her cheek so a thumb could wipe her tears. Rio leaned in, not expecting her to do so with a baby between them, and kissed her slow, real, and full of nothing but utter devotion. 

“ Cariño ,” Rio murmured, her voice low, “it’s okay. Agatha, mi amor , you just gave birth two weeks ago. You’re healing. You’re not sleeping. I’m not upset.” 

She gave a breath of laughter. 

“Fuck, I didn’t even remember until Lilia asked if I had the ingredients to cook something nice for you tonight.” 

They both laughed at that, softly and achingly as Agatha let Rio guide her body to rest her back against her chest, Rio’s chin resting on her shoulder as they both stared down at conejito who was in a world of his own. 

Agatha turned her head, nuzzling into her wife’s cheek, “Should we do something tonight if we both forgot?” 

Her wife hummed, kissing her, “Mm, well our usual plans are off the table.” 

She snorted, “As much as going out for a romantic dinner sounds amazing– I don’t feel like trying to figure out where I can breastfeed him when I’m still learning– and you’re not putting your dick anywhere near me.” 

“Agatha! Tiny ears,” Rio scolded. 

Agatha smirked, her lips circling upward as her eyes narrowed playfully at her wife, “I’m gonna teach him how to say ‘cunty’ as his first word.” 

“Yeah,” her wife hummed against her ear, not taking the bait. “Well, I’ll just get him to say ‘ mami’ first and then then what, mi amor? ” 

Blue fire flashed in Agatha’s eyes, “Yeah, and how much do you want to bet he says ‘mama’ first?” 

A hand brushed against Nicky’s cheek when he unlatched, making a displeased grunt. Her wife took him, both of them sitting up so their son could sit on Rio’s lap, his chubby cheeks being squeezed by her forefinger and thumb as his chin rested in the corner of where they connected. Her wife leaned him forward before setting a gentle rhythm on his back.

“How about if the loser has to do the sex talk when he’s older?” Rio smirked, eyeing her before a tiny burp from the baby bunny made them chuckle.

Agatha blew the air out of her mouth, whistling softly, “Already going for the big guns, my love.”

“Of course, so deal or not?” Rio bared her teeth, placing Nicky back in her arms 

He latched eagerly. His eyes wide, laced with innocence and newness as he studied her face. Agatha didn’t respond for a moment, already feeling her tears threatening to prick at her eyes. He was still so small, so reliant on her– that even the thought of him one day being taller than her, made her sick. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

They both startled, even Nicky who flinched before clinging tighter to her. She met Rio’s eyes, watching them cloud in confusion, her head tilting as she stood. Her own fluffy pajama pants clung to her, the monstera leaves cupping her ass nicely as Agatha couldn’t help but smirk watching her make her way to the door. The door swung open and Rio grew rigid, staring at whoever was there. 

“ Ay, Riocita!” a familiar voice screeched. “I can’t believe you! No texts! No photos! No phone calls!” 

Right… they still hadn’t told anybody that Nicholas was officially here. The only person who knew was Lilia… and Lilia promised…

“I went to Lilia’s and found her making dinners for you!” Oriana now stepped into their house, heading straight to the kitchen like she owned the place as more figures followed. 

A throat cleared, Alice’s voice joining in, “Ori called us. Of course we had to come, Rio. Plus, you look like shit.” 

Her wife scoffed, a dark energy rolling off in waves, crawling up the walls of the house. The shadows moved, shrinking back from her wife as the door slammed when she shut it behind her. Señor Scratchy bolted, his legs carrying him down the hall to hide most likely under their bed as even the plants shrinked back. 

“Oh, it’s just that maternal glow,” Hela mocked her, new voices laughing with her as they drifted to the kitchen. 

The coven was in their house, and Rio… her sweet, overprotective wife was about to lose it. From a distance she could see the way her fists clenched, the veins running through her hands as her head twitched to the side. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Rio was furious.

“Now, where is my sobrino?” Oriana rushed from the kitchen, coming towards the living where Nicky was still nursing. 

Agatha shot her hand out, grabbing the blanket she knitted for him to cover herself just as Oriana burst into the room. Her smile was huge, stretching her cheeks to the point she was sure they were going to rip. The coven followed behind– Jen, Alice, and Hela flanking her. She silently thanked Lilia for not coming, at least someone actually understood social queues. 

Behind her, the cushions shifted, a honey toned arm crossing her vision before the nursing shawl was wrapped around her, Rio taking the blanket so Nicky could finish in peace– which he was taking his sweet time about it too. 

“You could have called before coming,” Rio’s voice was low, dark behind her, as a hand rested possessively on her shoulder. 

Oriana was the first to wave her off, “Like you called to let us know he was born? Did you even tell Abuelita ? She’s going to freaking curse you, hermanita.” 

Agatha snorted at the word ‘freaking,’ but her wife was deathly tense behind her. Her fingers curled on her shoulder, and even Agatha was facing their friends, Hela plopping down at the far end of the couch, seeming the only one who took notice of her wife, whose jaw was probably clenched and steam was  blowing out of her nose. Jen and Alice sat in the chair, Jen on Alice’s lap as Oriana stood before her, looking down at the shawl over Nicky with such intensity, it felt as if she could see through it. The moment Agatha flinched, she knew her wife would spring into action. 

“She will find out soon, Ori– and from me , not you. Agatha is still recovering. She doesn’t need the whole Vidal family doting on her,” her wife replied sharply. 

“Oh, come on, Riocita. Don’t be like that. He should be introduced to his family at a young age anyway.” 

“He’s two weeks old.” 

The older sister scoffed, “And? I was four when I held you at that age. Amá breastfed you right in front of us.” 

Oh, Agatha was not doing this. 

She reached up, placing a hand on top of her wife’s as her voice boomed, “Enough!”

Hela coughed into her hand, muttering something, but there was a spark in her eyes, almost as if she was enjoying the spectacle as she leaned back into the couch, but clearly unwilling to throw herself into the wildfire. Jen and Alice looked at each other, speaking to each other with eyes that read : Should we leave? And Alice gave her the look of too late now . Oriana, meanwhile, huffed dramatically and folded her arms, nails tapping her elbow staring down at her. And Nicky? He didn’t have a care in the world. He merely unlatched and gave a soft coo against her breast. 

The moment the note left his throat, the room froze, the tension evaporating from everyone… but her wife who leaned over the couch, reaching to take him out from under the nursing shawl. The steady hush fell over them, something sacred as he was slowly revealed from under the shawl and deposited into Rio’s arms. Rio walked around, sitting next to her wife, setting him on her lap to burp him. And that was when they all saw his face, squished in Rio’s soft but calloused hands burping loudly before lifting his arms up and making another noise. 

A different cooing began, Oriana finding a seat next to her sister, everyone staring as Rio brought him to her chest. 

“Oh goddess, look at him!” Jen whispered, leaning forward, her hands pressed over her heart as Alice peered over her shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up–”

A chorus of “Alice!”s echoed in the room, but both Agatha and Alice didn’t care. 

“He’s in that bunny onesie you fucking bought him, Rio– oh my gods– I didn’t think he would be this cute,” her eyes wide, her body moving forward, almost pushing Jen to the floor. “Oh– the ears!”

Hela huffed a laugh, but green eyes were uncharacteristically soft and wide, grazing over Nicky before gasping, “Rio, he looks like you.” 

Agatha watched as their son blinked up at Rio, oblivious and doe-like– brown eyes that were Rio’s exactly– unimpressed, but secretly calculating. His lips twitched into a faint smile, the muscles barely working before his hand reached up, finding Rio’s hair to hold. 

“It’s kinda scary,” Jen added. “Like Agatha, are you sure you were the one that carried him?”

They both faintly flinched at that. Her wife almost more-so as brown eyes flicked to the kitchen where she pulled Nicky from her, but it was still too raw to bring up– that’s how he was brought into the world– with Agatha minutes away from death’s embrace. Agatha fixed her shirt, pulling the shawl off of her body before placing her hand on Rio’s thigh, easing the bouncing and nerves. 

Agatha flashed Jen a venomous smile, “Would you like to see my vagina right now? Or would like to fetch my ice pack for it in the freezer?” 

Her hands went up in defeat, her lip curling in disgust as Agatha merely turned back to their son. She reached up, her eyes dancing at him as she smoothed a dark curl from Nicky’s brow. But that was when she noticed Oriana was still as stone. Barely breathing as if she would spook Rio away from her, which she might. Her hands were helplessly limp in her lap and she lost that combative sibling fight in her. She was soft as well as stiff, her gaze never leaving him, watching his hand hold her younger sister’s hair. Her eyes traced the bunny ears now racing down his back as he did that little newborn scrunch on Rio’s chest. But the covered hand still held Rio’s hair with all its might. 

Agatha took a breath, her hand moving to Rio’s back as she answered Oriana’s question in the form of her own, “Would you like to hold him?”

Her wife went rigid, her whole body tightening like a string on a violin.

“No,” Rio snapped, her voice sharp, border-lining a growl. 

“My love,” Agatha murmured, her hand playing with the baby hairs on the base of her neck. “Let her try.” 

Rio looked down at their son, before her eyes narrowed to her hands. Her voice came out low– a tone in which no one should argue against. 

“If any of you want to hold him,” she started. “You will go to the kitchen and wash your hands. You will not kiss him. You must support his neck. And you will be seated.”

“Hela literally has a baby–” Alice started before stopping at the look Rio gave them. 

They scrambled, running to the kitchen like a couple of teenagers fighting for shotgun. Agatha chuckled, shaking her head before leaning in and kissing her wife’s cheek. 

“You’re hot when you get protective like that.”

“Agatha,” her wife groaned, falling back on the couch. 

She smirked, “You’re right. Four more weeks, my love.” 

Her wife glared at her, but straightened when Oriana came back sitting down next to her slowly. The others followed standing in line, each on their toes as they stared at him. Rio sighed and handed him over, slow and reluctant, guiding his small weight into Oriana’s arms. And for one glorious, fragile second, it seemed like it might be fine. Nicky blinked up at her, brown eyes almost as owlish as Rio’s as Oriana murmured in Spanish at her nephew. That’s when the milk drunken expression vanished, one replaced by utter fear and betrayal. His face collapsed, and he screamed. The wail was piercing, his little arms flaring– so dramatically distressed as if Rio was giving him up permanently. 

“O-okay– ay, conejito– it’s okay!” Oriana panicked, trying to rock him as her face fell with him. “Why is he doing that?! Hermanita! Agatha!” 

The group cackled behind her, and Alice was squeezing down next to her, “Amateur, give him to me.” 

Oriana passed him over, standing and backing away, betrayal written all over her own face as Alice shifted closer to Rio, rocking him herself while humming at him. Agatha sat back, her eyebrows raised in surprise, especially when Rio leaned back too, but then Rio covered her chest again with the shawl. 

“Let-down reflex, mi amor,” she murmured, kissing her cheek just as she felt it. 

Right, her body was responding to their son’s cries. 

Nicky’s cries grew more dramatic by the second, red-faced and flailing as Jen swooped in next before passing him to Hela– the most experienced in the group. Hela held him, not close, but gently, her eyes moving over him before simply passing him into Agatha’s arms. Agatha felt her shoulders relax, not even realizing her body was on high alert as she pressed Nicky against her, kissing his curls. The moment the first kiss landed, the crying ceased, and he drifted off in the safety of his Mama’s arms. 

“Gods, he’s as dramatic as you,” Alice muttered, rubbing at her ears. 

Hela stood back up, punching Rio playfully in the arm, “Yeah, good luck with that one.” 

But Agatha wasn’t paying attention to them, holding her son close, nuzzling into the top of his head with her nose. She caressed his cheek– baby soft– as he curled into her chest, almost as if he was burrowing there. Agatha was in her own world with him, just seeing that his eyes were still open. She moved him to the crook of her arm, making soft faces at him, watching brown eyes following each delicate motion. 

The room around them softened to a blur. The voices dimmed, the walls dissolved. There was only him. Only Nicky. The quiet flutter of his lashes, the tiniest furrow of his brow as if he was already a thinker, already holding ancient secrets in a body too small to speak them. She tapped his nose gently, a faint smile curling at the edge of her lips. She half wondered what babies could think– how did he see her? Did he know that she would never hurt him– never be as cruel or evil as her own mother? That she would protect him with everything that she had? That she would level cities, fucking countries if that meant he was happy? Did he know already how loved he was– did he even know that she was his mother?

Her mind drifted even more, wondering if the more he grew, he would be as gentle and defiant as his mami. She could see him playing in the dirt, pointing to a spider that while Rio explained what type of spider it was, the class and Latin name of the thing– they would probably get a tarantula behind her back and Rio would send Nicky to soften the blow on her. Gods, she was so fucked– so in love. 

Nicky fidgeted, his hand flexing under the glove. With ease, she unzipped him watching as his hand shot free, a tiny knuckle clinging to her hair as he just stared at her, alert and curious. And then his arms flailed a bit, his mouth smacking. Her eyebrows creased as she reached down, her finger tips ghosting his jaw, his cheek, down the slope of his nose, and the moment her finger was in front of his mouth– he latched, sucking with fury. 

She laughed, wondering if he is starting a growth spurt. She read he would have one between two and three weeks, and found moms on TikTok talking about their baby always nursing at that time– but she never told Rio she was looking. Her wife would merely say I told you after she dismissed the clock application. But it did ease a lot of fears, especially when it came to him nursing from her, and she was too proud to admit to her wife her fears. 

Agatha pulled out her finger, watching his face scrunch up as she reached under the shawl to unclasp the buttons that locked the milk bar. The shawl slid down as she let out a hot annoyed breath before pulling it in place, and trying at the clasps again. Well, trying to do it all one handed, she wasn’t fast enough, and Nicky… he inherited Agatha’s patience. His face scrunched up as he squirmed, his lips rooting against the shawl, and he screamed the moment he realized it wasn’t her skin. 

“Okay! Everyone out!” her wife stood, her shoulders set back as her fists were clenched.

Agatha didn’t try to correct her as Nicky continued screaming, crying like he was being purposely starved. 

She tried again, but Oriana was yelling back at her sister, “Oh, come on, Rio. I’m his tía !” 

“Yeah, and he cried in your arms,” Jen snarked as she grabbed her things with Alice. “Now, let’s all go before one mom whips her boob out and the other kills us.” 

Agatha stared up at Jen, muttering a, “Fuck you, Kale,” under her breath as she finally got her her shirt unhooked, but Nicky was throwing his tantrum, his little hands pulling on her hair, the sharpness on her scalp making her eyes water. Fuck, she needed Rio.

“We put more food in your fridge, have fun moms!” Hela called, already walking out the door with Jen and Alice following close behind. 

Oriana was left, crossing her arms before Rio– the two sisters squared off with one another, both of their eyes darkening, but Rio’s stare was worse. 

“I’ll leave if you send a photo of him to the group chat,” Oriana huffed. 

Rio snorted like a bull stepping closer, “ You’re leaving because I am telling you to. You’re leaving because Agatha is still healing and needs–”

“Rio!” Agatha needed her . 

Nicholas was wailing now and she was still struggling with the shawl and her chest was now wet– and the world was spinning away from the little bubble she made for herself without her wife. Within seconds, the door clicked shut and Nicky was taken from her arms by her wife who was already taking him to the nursery. 

Agatha could breathe, her head finally stopping the pounding as Nicholas’ cries started to tamper down. Her heart steadied and fluttered when she heard her wife’s voice, singing softly to him before Rio was coming back out– Nicholas changed into a green onesie with music notes scattered all over it, which meant Rio changed his diaper… because Nicky needed a new outfit every time his diaper changed. She pulled the shawl off her body, taking their son into her arms. And the moment he was latched, the tears dried and wide brown eyes stared up at her like she was his world.

The couch dipped beside her. Rio folded herself into the corner of the loveseat, still wound tight. Agatha held back a sigh, already knowing the shape of the storm brewing. She let Rio tug her back, her body yielding to the pull until she rested against Rio’s chest. 

“You know it’s fucking ridiculous, right?” Rio growled low against her ear, making her shiver as the air around them cooled. 

Agatha didn’t flinch though. She just shifted enough to get comfortable, mindful of the small body nestled in her arms. Their son reached a hand up, a clumsy little grab of fingers too small to handle anything. She offered him her finger, feeling the strength that was blossoming day by day, still just a little too small for his thumb and fingers to touch. 

Her voice softened, a mutter and mock under her breath that she knew her wife could hear, “Language, Rio.” 

A weight fell to Agatha’s shoulder as a taut but muffled voice replied, “I wish everyone would just leave us alone. And on our anniversary, of all days.” 

“I know, love,” Agatha murmured, bracing for the deluge. 

She never interrupted these rants and never tried. This was how Rio shed the weight she carried : aloud, unfiltered, like waves breaking against the shore. Agatha only leaned back into her, half-tuned to her words, half-listening instead to the quiet suckling of their son. Her eyes drifted to the soft rise and fall of his throat, the steady rhythm of him drinking. 

“And Ori just suddenly thinking she’s entitled to him? And now what? Abuelita knocking on the door tomorrow? Gods, if she was here, I probably wouldn’t even get to hold him– and then they all just come in and barely even look at you—” 

Agatha hummed in agreement, her thumb catching a drop of milk trailing from Nicky’s chin. He’d unlatched with a sigh, and she gently eased her finger from his grasp. Rio kept going behind her– that was until Agatha bent her knees, lifting their son to rest there, cradled on the soft hill of her thighs. Brown eyes blinked up at them, lips curling in a lopsided smile before he started blowing spit bubbles. Agatha chuckled, low in her chest, watching as his gaze shifted past her– squinting at the shadow of his mami behind his mama. With practiced ease, she stroked his cheek in the same way she did to calm Rio, watching as his eyes fluttered and he leaned into her touch.

Gods, he really is Rio, she thought fondly, but her eyes narrowed back towards her wife. 

“I know it’s frustrating, my love,” she spoke softly, watching as Nicky fought to keep his eyes open at them. “It has been for the last nine months– stepping out into the world where so many random people keep trying to pry open our lives to dissect it. You have a family who think they are entitled to every little aspect, that each moment is theirs to document as if we are nothing more than characters in a television show. We have friends who knock on our doors and barge in without invitation. But none of that matters, because this –” 

Agatha took Rio’s hand without taking off the one cupping their son’s cheek. She felt Rio’s body relax into hers as she leaned forward, their hearts cuddling, beating with each other as she laid her hand to caress and hold chubby cheeks. Together, they watched as Nicky’s eyes stopped fighting. They opened once, glancing at his mama before narrowing to his mami who rested her chin on Agatha’s shoulder. And with another tiny yawn, he fell into their hands– trusting them to forever hold him as his own heart slowed, and sleepy sighs filled the quiet with a love that bloomed as brightly as an azalea. 

“ This is somewhere only we know.” 

 

 

 

So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?