Flambeau was lucky… or so he kept telling himself as he screamed through the pain.
He could still remember all the lessons he'd been forced to go through as a young omega.
Suck it up and push. This was all for your Alpha. You were bringing an heir into the world for your Alpha.
If he were in an actual bonded relationship, he could have expected having meals brought to him in bed, getting shoulder rubs and belly rubs…. And he would have eaten it up… taking full advantage of the Father's kindness.
And then he would have had a target for this. Someone to throw things at.
"I hate you, you bastard…" he growled, the words echoing throughout the empty, "… I hate you!"
His words came out strangled, words barely understandable. He knew his face was probably bright red by now as he yelled again at the next push, the volume just shy of a scream. His hair probably wasn't perfect anymore, mussed and matted, sweaty like the rest of him.
He remembered how this happened…. He wished it could have been due to his seductive prowess, finally turning the Father over to his side.
In actual reality, he was foolish enough to get caught days before his heat with no suppressants, and the Father was foolish enough to come after him, in order to be injected with something to caused his rut to bubble up.
And wasn't that a surprise? Learning that the Father, was actually an Alpha?
At first, the Father had actually seemed afraid for once in his life.
He'd been on suppressants for almost all of his adult life, of course it was terrifying to him.
As their heat and rut took over, Flambeau was ashamed to remember how he pressed himself up against the Alpha, begging to be told how pretty he was.
The Father had thankfully indulged him, and things devolved from there.
The initial event passed by in a rush of heat, lust and grunting. When the Father knotted however, that's when the problems began.
He tried to pull out, making Flambeau yelp and wrap his arms around the Father's neck, tugging him back down and trying to keep him calm. He wrapped his legs around the Father's back until there wasn't a chance for him to get away – wasn't a chance for him to move. "Stay still!" he snapped, omega instincts rising to the surface at the thought of his 'chosen' Alpha rejecting him.
He could still remember the shaking in Father's voice as he stared down at Flambeau, quietly uttering his name.
"Flambeau, I- "
"- Just. Stay. Still. It'll all be over soon."
Even the Father gave into his basic human instincts at that point.
It had been… better than expected, and yet, when the lust cleared and everything came back into focus, Flambeau couldn't help but blame the Father for everything.
Why did the foolish man have to come after him and get himself drugged? Why did he have to put them in that position?
He ran and when he found out that he was with child, he was desperate to hate the Father even more.
But he couldn't.
Another wave of pain shattered the memory and Flambeau grunted through yet another contraction.
Yes, he hated the man… but he couldn't help but love him as well.
And then it happened… it's not loud, not like his first child. But it sounded the same, almost like a kitten wailing for its mother.
Pushing himself up to a seated position, he turned his attention to the coat he'd placed underneath himself, where a squirming, bloody lay, the crying getting louder and louder.
A son…. A little boy.
Between one second and the next, he has a whole life that depends on him… who needs him.
It felt like no time ad passed at all… like he'd only blinked. His body seemed to have moved automatically and soon his son was clean and in his arms.
"Hello… Sidney."
…
"Why won't you sleep?!" Flambeau hissed, fingers running through his hair in stress, "You're clean, you've been fed, you're warm, what more do you need?!"
His son had clearly already inherited a combination of both his and the Father's stubbornness, and merely stared up at him, almost smugly.
"I cannot wait for these 6 months to be over."
In his heart of hearts though, he knew that wasn't true… the last time he'd gone through this, birthing a little girl, it had been way too easy to drop the baby off at the doors of an orphanage after the six months and leave without a backwards glance.
This time, it clearly wasn't going to be as easy.
…..
Sidney hadn't stopped crying ever since they entered England, squawking like he was having to go through the indignity of being harassed by a bunch of strangers and cooed over… alright maybe he was, but he'd never remember it.
Not like Flambeau would.
Getting to Kembleford from Dover was fairly easy, and soon he could see the church spire in the distance.
Thankfully, the baby had quietened down, making his walk through the cobbled streets so much easier, especially with all the gossipy busybodies roaming around, their blinds open just a crack… just enough to see what was going on.
Full darkness had settled over the village by the time he reached the Father's home. The note was already written, leaving him to pin it to his son's blanket, set the basket down, knock on the door and run.
And yet, as he went to place the basket on the ground, he found himself lingering, eyes focused on his sons' face.
Could he really do this?
… Yes.
He didn't need the baggage of taking care of a child as he liberated people of their property. Having a child around, was nothing but a risk.
Then again… maybe a sidekick would be nice.
No.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts.
"I am sorry Sidney." he whispered, brushing his son's hair one last time, before knocking loudly on the door and making a run for it.
…
Father Brown frowned as he slowly made his way through the drafty corridors, shivering slightly as his bare feet touched the stone.
The knock on the door had come as a shock, but there was always a chance someone needed him for Last Rites. However, as soon as he opened the door, he realised that that wasn't the case.
The baby started to whimper, prompting the Father to kneel down quickly and pick him up, balancing it in one arm and unpinning the note with the other hand, only just managing to open it without dropping the baby.
What he read made his blood run cold.
Dear Father.
I cannot apologise enough for doing this, but I couldn't just leave him in an orphanage. I couldn't let him be forgotten and mistreated by the rest of the world.
I know that you probably want to forget the last time we saw each other, I'm sure that you never expected anything to come of it… but it did.
Sidney is your son, our son.
Please take care of him mon amour.
F
Father Brown's eyes widened with every word and he quickly raced up the steps that led to the main street, glancing around in the hope that Flambeau was hanging around.
Nothing.
And then the baby started to cry.
"Oh dear."
….
Sidney had been home for all of thirty-seven minutes. He had been screaming his tiny little head off for the last ten of those thirty-seven minutes.
"He's so red Mrs M!" Lady Felicia cried out, "He's not breathing, is he swaddled too tight?!"
"Oh, he's breathing…" Father Brown sighed, "… he wouldn't be so loud otherwise. Maybe we should try the milk in a different bottle?"
"What he needs, is his Mother!" Mrs McCarthy groaned in exasperation, "He's far too young to be separated like this!"
"Six months is old enough for him to be weaned, but yes…" Father Brown glanced down at the boy… his boy according to the note left on the blanket, "… I believe Mrs McCarthy is right. I think he is missing his Mother."
Slowly, he lifted the baby into his own arms, cradling him in his grasp, bouncing him gently and humming one of his favourite hymns, ignoring how he was drowned out by the babies' shrieks. The baby… Sidney… had been crying so hard that his face had turned a deep purple-red and the high-pitched wailing was tearing the Father apart.
"Come on Sidney…" he whispered, "…Daddy is trying, what do you need? You don't seem to want to eat and your nappy is- " Sidney tensed, arching his tiny back. There was a terrible smell and Sidney immediately stopped crying.
"Ah…" Father Brown sighed, "… we seem to have found the problem."
Sidney clearly still wasn't happy, but the worst of the crying seemed to have passed.
"Well, now is as good as time as any to learn how to change a nappy." Mrs McCarthy sighed, "Follow me. I'm sure we have some spare in the donations box, God forgive us."
"I believe God will forgive us this one time."
"I can only hope so…. Wipe from front to back Father and hold your breath."
The Father frowned at this, carrying Sidney into the spare room, placing him on the neat bed. The baby fussed and grunted, kicking out at him, but thankfully not screeching like before.
"Okay Sidney, forgive me, but I've never had to do this before." Father Brown slowly removed the clothes, chuckling warmly as tiny legs kicked out of him. However, the smile soon disappeared from his face, and he gagged, "M-Mrs McCarthy!"
She immediately rushed in, a bottle of milk in her hands, along with some fresh nappies. "What? What is it?"
The look on the Father's face said it all.
"Oh, honestly Father!" She shook her head, "He's uncomfortable! Take a deep breath and sort it out!"
Father Brown frowned, "I don't mean to be rude Mrs McCarthy, but I think even you would have trouble with this."
She merely rose any eyebrow at him, before moving over to Sidney and moving the nappy for herself, immediately putting it back where it was just as the Father had done before, taking a step back, clearly resisting the urge to make the sign of the cross.
Father Brown couldn't resist the urge to smirk, "See what I mean?"
After sending the Father a vicious glare, she cleared her throat and straightened up, "The rest of the nappies are yours." Holding her breath, she cleared dealt with the nappy and disposed of it. "You can give him a bath…" she ordered, "… I'm sure you don't need my help with that."
Noticing how Sidney was falling asleep, Father Brown decided to wet a clean cloth, "He's falling asleep… I think I'll give him a proper bath when he wakes up. Gives him a chance to rest his lungs."
"Hmmm, and if he needs another change, you can be the one to do it. You will need the practice Father."
"Of course Mrs McCarthy."
Cradling Sidney against his chest, Father Brown headed over to the spare room, which he knew Mrs McCarthy was already planning to do up. He took a seat on the bed, leaning back against the wall, Sidney sprawled out on his belly on top of his chest.
"You shouldn't worry you know."
The Father glanced over at the doorway, where Lady Felicia was standing, a fond smile on her face.
"You've survived worse than a few dirty nappies." She continued, "He's only been here a few hours and you're doing fine. He's sleeping like a little angel now."
"I get the feeling, that that won't last very long."
Sidney seemed to grumble in agreement, snuffling slightly.