(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.

Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews.

Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language. Mpreg.

Enjoy! :))


"What are you—" Draco pauses mid-sentence, stunned by the sight before him. Harry and James might as well be mirror images at the moment; both of them are staring up at him with those wide green eyes, a slice of pizza half-way to their mouths as their cheeks bulge on one side.

His eyes continue flicking between the pair. He's perfectly justified in feeling himself melt a little inside as he looks at them; only a heartless bastard wouldn't find it adorable. Thanks to Harry and his mini-me, he's grown one that finds puffy cheeks and wide green eyes adorable.

And uses words like adorable...

Harry shrugs, going back to his pizza. He grins when James does the same, the little boy tearing into his pieces with gusto. "Hi, love," he mumbles through his own bite. He hadn't expected James to like the strange concoction he had ordered, but removing the offending toppings solved any issues and there was little fuss. He rubs a hand over his belly, humming softly as he chews.

"What's this?" Draco asks, easing into the room. Whatever it is they're eating, it smells pretty good. And some of it is cut into smaller pieces for James' easier handling. Not that his son appears to be having any difficulty... He's impressed with James growing table manners and watches as his son actually uses a napkin—strategically placed right on his lap—instead of wiping his fingers on his pants leg or his shirt. He absently wonders if that's his mother's prim influence until he sees Harry doing the same thing.

He ruffles James' hair and then gives Harry a quick kiss, his hand sliding down to gently rub along his stomach. He absently licks his lips and tastes the grease that was transferred during the brief press of lips.

Harry pushes the pizza box closer to Draco, a plate on top of the box. "Pizza," he says. He scrunches his face up, a bit offended on pizza's behalf that his husband is ignorant of the majesty that is pizza. He pauses, his half-eaten slice of pizza half-way to his mouth, and looks up at Draco curiously. "Don't tell me we've never had pizza."

He's pretty sure he has... No, he knows he has; probably back when Draco refused to eat such things. Snooty prat.

"We haven't," Draco confirms, lifting the box's lid to peek inside. Pizza, while smelling delicious, looks messy (and it explains the greasy kiss earlier). Especially if one is expected to eat it with one's hands. Oh well, no help for it. He really isn't in the mood to be laughed at or jeered if he retrieves a fork... He spares Harry a brief look and carefully pulls a piece out, settling it onto his plate as he sites next to Harry. He's not quite sure what the appeal is to be eating whilst sitting on the sofa, instead of at the table properly, but he's not going to be the one to mention that.

Last time, he'd barely made it though James' puppy-eyes and Harry's tears (and then open hostility). Not with his dignity intact, at least.

"I'd remember if we've had this before," he says, pointing to his plate. "What's on here?" he asks, bending a little to inspect his food closer. He can't quite identify everything littering the surface and he's justifiably wary about eating something unknown. Especially if Harry looks so happy to be eating it. His husband's odd craving stage hadn't gone away, even this late in his second pregnancy.

Harry clears his throat and rests his plate on his lap (well, mostly balancing it on his knees since his lap is pretty much non-existant at the moment). "Uhm." He doesn't know what to do; on one hand, it's nice to see Draco actually interested in Muggle food with little complaining. On the other, he doesn't want to gross his husband out before he even gets a chance to try said food.

"...stuff," he eventually says, picking off a bit of sausage and nibbling on it.

"What kind of stuff?" Draco asks, raising an eyebrow. He notices James grinning at him and he winks. How bad could it be if his son is eating it with little fuss? James isn't supremely picky, but he isn't nearly as indiscriminate as Harry when it comes to what he eats. "Good stuff?" James and Harry nod at the same time. "Am I to just shut up and try it then?" They both nod again, two pairs of green eyes rolling affectionately, and he chuckles. "Right. But if any of this stuff kills me, I'm haunting you both," he says and takes a small bite of his pizza.

He chews slowly, carefully letting the flavors roll around his mouth so he can taste it fully. "Is there... fish on this?" he finally asks once he's swallowed. He doesn't mind the flavor, but he hadn't any idea it was a pizza topping. It's oddly appealing, especially when combined with the other flavors. He's not sure Harry had it placed on the pizza purposefully... His husband really doesn't have a refined palate—he just eats what he likes. Occasionally, he gets lucky and chooses something sophisticated and absolutely delicious.

Harry nods. "Uhm, yeah. Those're anchovies. They're, uh, popular on pizza."

Of course, he's pretty sure it's not a 'popular' choice, per se, but it was listed on the menu and he had to have it added to the growing list of toppings when he practically drooled seeing it. He goes back to his own slice, trying to ignore Draco as he takes another bite and does that slow, testing chew thing again. Merlin... it's pizza, for crying out loud—not a science experiment.

"What else?" Draco asks, unable to identify everything he's tasting. It's not exactly unpleasant, but he's curious. He eyes a strange yellow lump and points to it. It looks vaguely familiar... but something tells him it probably shouldn't be on his pizza. "What is this?"

"Pineapple," Harry mutters, picking off a chunk from his own slice and giving it to James. He'd been surprised to find his son adored the fruit on his pizza and he doesn't mind sharing. He chuckles softly when James just pops it right into his mouth, a mumbled 'thank you' as he chews, before going right back to his own piece. He huffs when Draco only continues to stare at him. "Pick it off if you don't like it," he says shortly, going back to his own food and ignoring the fussy blonde.

Draco just snorts softly and ignores the petulant expression on Harry's face. He feels a little bad he's responsible... Until he remembers that the smallest thing gets Harry in a huff any more. He doesn't think he's exaggerating, either. He found Harry glaring at a pile of dust the other day, confused until Harry had swept it away with a grumble about wishing he could just 'vanish that shit' away. So, yes, it's easy to get Harry off on a strop.

He's just as anxious as his husband for their second child to be born, and it's only partly due to the growing anticipation of seeing, holding, loving his daughter. Mostly, he just wants his Harry back to normal. Selfish? Maybe, but he's honest enough to admit it... Well, at least to himself. Hary would probably only misconstrue that to mean... something odd and unflattering about his size or something.

Harry just glares and goes back to eating, ignoring the commiserating glances he can feel Draco and James sharing. Bloody prats; they didn't know misery until they were up on their feet every hour to pee and wishing their body would disappear from the neck down because everything was just so sore and achy. And ridiculously huge.

He watches Draco chew with renewed interest. His husband looks pleasantly surprised. "Well?"

"It's good," Draco admits. He almost feels like he's been missing out on something good since he's insisted Harry keep most of his Muggle foods out of the house. Of course, that 'rule' went out the window the moment Harry had burst into tears, wailing about wanting to be able to get whatever he wanted in his home and that Draco hated him for being 'Muggle-born'. That had been a most unpleasant way to wake at 3am...

He rolls his eyes and can't suppress a smile when Harry gives him a narrow-eyed but smug look. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I have, in the past, admitted I was wrong."

Harry makes a sound between a scoff and a snort but wisely makes no further comments. Yeah, Draco has been able to admit being wrong in the past but it's generally after a long, drawn out argument and he finally just huffs a 'fine' to end the argument. He slides another piece of pizza onto James' plate when he asks for it.


Draco eases into the kitchen, holding his empty plate and approaching Harry warily. Harry had stomped into the kitchen a few minutes ago, gathering his and James' empty plates and the empty pizza box with a pinched expression and numerous huffy sighs. He's not even sure why his husband had been upset and he's not looking forward to an argument. He just can't argue with a pregnant Harry; not only can he not win, he hates seeing his husband like that.

Plus the threat of being kicked out of bed is quite real—not that Harry has actually gone through with it yet. But he has no desire to test Harry's willingness to follow through with that particular threat. He's a stubborn bastard on a good day (and when hormone free). Neither of them sleeps well when alone... He knows Harry would crack first and that could possibly just make him even crankier, even if he got to snuggle up against him like usual. Harry got... elbow-y (having painfully accurate aim) when he was cranky and pissed off at him but didn't want to evict Draco from their bed.

"Alright?" he murmurs, leaning around Harry and sliding his plate onto the counter.

He slowly runs his hands up Harry's back—ready to back away at a moments notice. Harry doesn't glare over his shoulder or push him away, so he steps a little closer as he keeps his hands moving. He pauses to rub and knead his thumbs into Harry's lower back for a moment, and brings his hands up along his spine to rest on slightly tense shoulders. He smiles a little when Harry's entire body relaxes and he leans back a little, obviously welcoming Draco's touch.

Huh. Well, the real plus to hormone induced fits is they tend to disappear as suddenly as they appear. Thank Merlin...

Harry nods, swallowing around a lump of emotion. He hates being all over the place and he hates that he ends up taking it out on Draco most of the time—even if his husband is amazingly understanding and rarely takes it personally. He really doesn't know how Draco takes in all in stride, even when he's being positively horrible. He sags with relief he hasn't pissed (or chased) off his husband for the rest of the night and leans into the fantastic hands gently—but deftly—massaging him in all the right spots.

He's able to control his emotional outbursts around James, though; usually able to close his mouth before he can snap at his son unnecessarily. James wouldn't understand... The first (and last) time it happened, they'd both wound up crying at each other. Luckily, James had eventually allowed Harry to snuggle him and they'd calmed down together. Harry considers himself lucky his little boy didn't try to avoid him or shy away from him after that. He doesn't know what he do if that happened...

"Yeah," he finally says. His eyes drift closed when Draco starts massaging his shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles where his neck and shoulder meet. He hadn't realized he was so tense until he feels his muscles slowly turning to jelly under his husband's skilled fingers. Of course, now he's relaxing quickly, ready to just melt into a puddle of goo and plaster himself against his blonde's firm front. He hums, sagging back until Draco is basically supporting his entire weight.

Poor bastard. He doesn't make any effort to remove himself, though, even if he's probably testing Draco's strength to the limits. Even without his baby-belly, there's a considerable amount of him to support... which his husband still adores and enjoys at every opportunity. The last he bothered checking, he was up to 13 stone—and that was before the baby. His healer hasn't tsked over it, so he hasn't changed anything besides his pre-natal vitamin potions and forcing more greens onto his plate.

"You sure?" Draco asks, leaning down and lightly kissing up the back of Harry's neck. He doesn't usually second guess his heavily pregnant husband—it usually leads to Harry snapping at him. But he can't help himself; he's concerned and wants to make sure.

And his brain is a bit muddled since he's quickly getting aroused; it's been awhile since Harry has let him touch—except for the occasional massage, belly rubs, and bedtime snuggle before they both fell asleep. But it's not the kind of contact he's been craving. He hasn't pushed, knowing Harry still has moments of insecurity. Or he's just too tired... Those are the only side-effects of pregnancy he finds slightly annoying, but it's still manageable.

He isn't being rebuked or pushed away when his hands wander a little, so he slides his hands down Harry's front, purposefully ghosting over already-peaked nipples, and rests his hands on Harry's baby-bump. He pauses there for only a moment before he drops his hands so his fingertips brush lower; right below the swell of Harry's belly and teasing at Harry's crotch, his fingers ghosting over the seam of Harry's maternity pants. He doesn't linger, even if he really wants to, and slides his hands up again.

Draco rubs circles over the large bump, nuzzling Harry's neck. He's vaguely aware of Harry nodding in answer to a question he nearly forgot asking since most of his focus is on the warm scent in his nose and the relaxed, lovely, sexy body in his arms. He adjust his position when Harry leans against him even more. He hums happily, taking advantage of Harry's relaxed state and easy-going mood to fondle his pliant husband. He gently squeezes Harry's hips, his hands sliding down the front of his thighs. Merlin, he adores those thighs. He misses having them wrapped around his hips (or neck).

"Anything I can do?" he asks, his voice low and full of suggestion. He doesn't know if he should be offended or encouraged when Harry voices a breathy, soft giggling sound... Until Harry wiggles away. He's discouraged but accepting. So close...

"Not right now," Harry says, gently easing Draco's hands from around his hips. He tsks softly when Draco's hands quickly knead at his bum before falling away. He's used to Draco fondling him but he's this close to just pushing Draco onto the table, flat on his back, and riding him until they're both sweaty and exhausted. He's still adjusting to the crazy wash of hormones that have him crying, irrationally angry or incredibly horny. He offers Draco a kiss, feeling terrible and just as frustrated to put a stop to anything further.

But James is in the other room and Draco's parents are expected any minute. He chuckles, and leans forward, planting a solid kiss on his husband's pouting mouth. Merlin, what a baby. "Later?" he offers suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Draco's pout deepens but he nods. "Fine. And I'm going to hold you to that," he says lowly, grabbing Harry's arse with both hands and gently squeezing. He makes a soft grunting-groaning sound; he still adores Harry's arse and it's really only gotten better. Harry nods, trying to look smug with his flushed face, and he raises an eyebrow. "I mean it. I'm not going to go have a wank in the shower because you're suddenly not in the mood."

"I promise," Harry says, unable to keep himself from snorting a laugh. He'd accuse Draco of being overly dramatic, but he really can't... His poor husband has been 'reduced' to such habits more than once. He feels a little bad about it, honestly but he's too exhausted most nights by the time James is in bed. He feels all warm and gooey inside, giving Draco another kiss for being such a wonderful husband. He never would have imagined the blonde had such patience... But he's grateful for it, nonetheless.

He sighs softly when the floo chimes from the other room. "Why are they always early?" he mutters, frowning a little and glaring in the general direction of the floo. Visits with Draco's parents have gotten more pleasant, but he's still nervous and on edge the first few minutes—mostly out of habit. Lucius doesn't scowl (or drink) as much and Narcissa hasn't made subtle comments about nannies (or horrendous traditional family names) since he cried all over the witch during tea a few weeks ago. It had been one of the most embarrassing things, probably ever, but he liked the end results enough he didn't worry about it too much.

Plus, both elder Malfoys had too much decorum to mention it. More than three times, anyway. Lucius will still offer him an embroidered handkerchief after they're almost cordial greetings. Prat.

Draco smiles, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist again. "Because it's proper. And the most annoying way to make their presence known," he adds with a cheeky smile. He gives his husband a reassuring squeeze, patting his arse and giving him a quick kiss before letting go. "Let's go, love. The longer we leave them solely in James' company, the greater the risk of them bribing him with chocolates and toys."

Or, Merlin forbid, a kneazle like his mother has been threatening for weeks.

He watches Harry hurry out of the kitchen, as fast as he can and not look like he's rushing. He once again fights the urge to pout as he adjusts himself—another hour and he wouldn't have to will down an erection. He squares is shoulders, mentally cursing his parents and their horrible timing, and goes out to greet them.