"Oooh…Eh—Eric…" Alan gasped as his body reacted shamelessly to the feel of Eric's hands softly caressing his sides as they lay in on their bed they now shared. Eric's strong frame pressed up against his back and it made him swell in his light blue pajama bottoms. Oh how he longed for that big, protective hand to slip beneath his silk shirt and touch his flushed skin. He rolled over in the taller man's arms and he looked up at him, slipping his arms around his neck.

"You have no idea how much I have missed you," he breathed, resting in so close that his nose touched Eric's clavicle. "How much I have wished for this chance again…"

He couldn't help it; going months without a single kiss or touch from the reaper that had stolen his heart proved too much for him all the sudden, and he needed to explore Eric's body more than that taste he'd gotten their special night together in that little motel. He yanked the Scotsman down for a demanding kiss, claiming his mouth with an eagerness that showed his inexperience and need. When he felt Eric react, kissing him back with that talented mouth of his, Alan moaned into the blond's lips and parted his own to allow entry. His hardening member poked out the top of his pajama bottoms and pressed against Eric's leg.

He wanted—no, he needed more.

"Mmm, look wha' we've started," purred the Scotsman against his lover's mouth. He glanced down at the flushed tip of Alan's arousal and he couldn't resist reaching down to pet it with his fingertips, gently teasing it. He groaned in his throat as a drop of moisture formed on it, slippery against the pad of his finger.

Alan gasped, a pleasurable shiver running through his body. No self-control. He'd only had Eric back for a few short hours and already he'd lost all control, and he'd been the one to jump Eric's bones. He'd be embarrassed if he weren't so lost in the Scotsman's touch.

He shifted, pressing up against Eric, his belly acting as a buffer and stopping them from getting too close without squishing the baby slightly.

"Your fault," Alan moaned, "you made me too needy…"

"Yer sae damned hot, I cannae help mahself," Eric murmured with a grin, kissing those parted, gasping lips. His own arousal was straining against the borrowed pajama bottoms he wore. William was of a height with him, but he was slimmer. The pajamas were a bit snug, and Eric started to laugh despite his discomfort when he glanced down and noticed he was literally tearing the seam in the crotch.

"Will's gonna be pissed," he predicted, grimacing. "I think I'd better take these things off before I ruin 'em, sweetheart." He winked at the squirming brunet he was leaning over. "Any objections tae tha'?"

Alan eagerly shook his head, "Need help?" He pushed himself up and sat on his folded legs, trying not to stare too much at the strained seam housing his lover's arousal. Rhea, he felt like a hormonal teenager. Though, he supposed it wasn't too far off—given his condition.

Eric untied the drawstrings and he smiled at his lover, allowing Alan to do the honors of tugging them down. He nearly laughed at the greedy way the small, pregnant brunet stared at his swollen endowments once he'd kicked off the pajamas, but he restrained himself. He was no less needy, and he worked quickly to level the scales. He tugged Alan's pajama bottoms down and he helped him out of the top, tossing the clothing articles aside hastily. He let his gaze wander over the slim, pale figure of his lover, lingering on the swell of his abdomen before moving on to his erection.

"How could I have ever left ya?" He wondered aloud, tracing the faint marks of the Thorns with his fingertips. He stopped over the baby bump and he rubbed it gently. "We're gonna be a family, an' I'll ne'er give ye up again, my heart."

Alan's lips curved in a gentle smile, "I'll be holding you to that." he placed his hand over Eric's hand, holding it to the baby bump, "we'll be holding you to it."

Eric lowered his head to kiss the mound he was rubbing on. "I swear tae ya both; I'm here t' stay now."

Without even consciously thinking about it, he let his hand glide down below Alan's navel. He began to fondle him again as he stretched out beside him, his lips seeking out the smaller reaper's. His length twitched against Alan's thigh as he slid his tongue into his mouth and again demonstrated his kissing skills, sensually stroking, thrusting and curling in the moist heat of his mouth. He laid one muscular leg across Alan's as he pleasured him, more than eager to join with him again. He hesitated though; worried about getting too rough and hurting him or the baby.

"Mm…at least…"Alan flushed as he joked, "…we don't have to worry about you getting me pregnant this time." His cheeks flushed bright pink from the strong desire he was experiencing. He grabbed Eric's shoulders and pulled him into a kiss again, demanding his full attention.

Eric's breath caught, and he suppressed a groan. So much time apart; and he'd only gotten to experience the sweetness that was his partner for one single night. He could easily see himself having a large family with this reaper…if he could just stop the Thorns from killing him.

"Love ye sae much, Alan," he murmured against the animated lips. His hand paused its stroking to move lower, cupping and fondling the sack beneath the shaft. "Tell me ye've go' somethin' we can use fer this. I…dinnae get tha chance tae pick up anything."

As he'd confessed to his partner before; he generally kept lubricant and protection on him…but since he'd had to send Alan away, he'd stopped that practice and he'd had no time to gather any of his belongings before fleeing to the hideout.

"Uhh…" Alan pulled away, his face going even redder. Lube, right. That was very much needed. Condoms not so much because he was already pregnant, but…

Sighing, Alan rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe, pulling it on and tying it around himself, "Don't move. I think I know where we can get some with…minimal embarrassment." he kissed Eric's cheek and hurried across the hall to William and Ronald's room, knocking on the door and hoping that Ronald was in.


William opened the door, his annoyed expression softening upon seeing Alan. "Is anything wrong, Mr. Humphries?"

"Uhh…I was hoping Ronald would be the one to answer…" Alan flushed.

"I would, but I just got out of the shower and Will would pass out from lack of breathing from scolding me if I answered the door naked." Ron's cheerful voice called out from somewhere within the room where Alan thankfully couldn't see. "Wha'cha want, Al?"

Crap. It seemed William would have to be there for this, anyway. Alan lowered his voice as quietly as he could, while still making it so that William could hear. "I—I was hoping Ronald would have some…uh…" He shifted, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden. "…oils…or lube…something that would…you know…" He bit his lip.

"Hey, Will, Alan still there?" Ron called out, obviously not having heard the request. "If not, where'd my boxers go? I thought I had them on the floor here…"

William straightened his glasses and stepped aside, politely gesturing for Alan to come in. "I…think you would be best off asking him that yourself," he said tactfully.

He resisted the instinctive urge to scold. That particular horse had long since escaped from the barn, and there was no point in making Alan feel ashamed of wanting to be intimate with the father of his child. If anyone needed scolding right now, it was Slingby. Will strongly believed the Scotsman should at least propose to Alan before seeking further sexual gratification from him, but for all he knew, he'd already done so.

"Please do come in, Alan. Perhaps Ronald can…help you."

He tried not to think of said blond's shameless proclamation about answering the door naked. Honestly, it was difficult enough to hold back all the time without him prancing about in the nude.

"Welp, I guess there goes the rest of my modesty. Thanks, Will." Ronald joked, still very nude as Alan was let into the room. The brunet, however, respectfully turned his back.

Alan took a deep breath. He'd already said the words once and William had heard, after all. "Ronald, I was hoping…you could lend me a bottle of oils or…lube." He flushed again.

Ronald blinked, "Damn, Eric's working fast…he doesn't have some? Normally he's the go-to man for things like that. Uh…hold on."

Abandoning his search for his boxers, Ronald rushed over to the wardrobe, digging through his half of it until he found two unopened bottles, and he held them up. "I got rose oil and, my personal favorite, citrus-scented oil. You can go ahead and keep one."

William pointedly stared at the wall and folded his hands over one another, his face heating as his boyfriend—whom he purposely avoided looking at while in such a state of undress—casually strolled over to Alan and handed the items over.

"At least someone will get use out of it," he muttered under his breath. Heavens, why on earth did Knox always insist on tempting him this way? For someone so adamantly against risking unplanned pregnancy, he certainly seemed determined to test his limits of self-control and get himself shagged.

"I…only need one." Alan stuttered.

"So choose one." the blond shrugged, "Then take it and go shag the arse that knocked you up."

Alan quickly handed the citrus oil back over to Ron, nearly dropping it in his hurry to get out of such an awkward situation.

Ronald chuckled and tossed the bottle of oil on the bed and resumed his search. "Seriously Will, if you moved them off the floor, just tell me. I don't mind sleeping in the nude. In fact, I prefer it. I only wear them so you don't freak out in that cute flustered way of yours."

"I most assuredly did not move them," defended William, still staring at the wall. "Why in Styx would I do that? I don't require any more temptation than what's already presented to me, thank you."

Ronald shrugged and walked up behind his boyfriend with a mischievous grin, "I would think because you don't like it when I just leave clothes on the floor. But if you didn't, I'm afraid I'll just have to sleep as I am." He slipped his arms around William.

The brunet sucked in a sharp breath, and his pajama pants tented rather abruptly at the crotch. "Ronald," he said in a strained voice, "please put something on…some sort of barrier between us besides just my own pajamas. I'm afraid I cannot trust myself to reciprocate your affection without dishonoring my half of our agreement, otherwise."

He would certainly never attempt to force Ronald and the blond surely knew that, but William found it difficult at times. He heard other couples' nightly activities sometimes when going for something to eat or drink, and it was a harsh reminder that he and Ronald had agreed to abstain until they either could obtain additional birth control as a backup. Condoms could break…Grell's condition was proof of that.

"I'm not gonna wear actual clothes to bed. That's incredibly uncomfortable, Will. And you gave your spare PJ's to Eric, so it's boxers or nothing and the boxers are M.I.A." Ron shrugged.

William sighed again. The boy was just determined to tease him to the brink of sanity. "Fine, then get into bed and under the covers, while I keep my back turned. I shall join you once you're settled in."

"Can we still cuddle?" Ronald pouted, pulling away and slipping around in front of his boyfriend. He couldn't help doing so. Even when he slept alone he often woke up cuddling his pillow or wadded blanket, but with someone sharing his bed, he'd awaken cuddling said person if they were still in bed once he finally awoke.

"Yes, of course." William kept his eyes shut so that he wouldn't inadvertently let them wander the blond's nudity and wind up in more of a state than he was already in. "Just tell me when you're beneath the covers, and I shall join you."

"Love you, Will." Ron grinned, kissing his cheek and hurrying to hop into his side of the bed and slipping under the covers. "Okay, Sir Knoxwurst is out of sight and temptation~" he teased, "Come join me."

William opened his eyes and turned to do so, shutting off the lamp as he got into bed with the blond. He put his glasses aside as he slipped under the covers, and he pulled Ronald close to him. He was uncomfortably aware of how utterly naked Ronald was beneath the sheets as the blond cuddled up to him. Well, he would just have to control himself, wouldn't he? He was a man, not a beast. The brunet stroked his companion's back, sighing into his hair. He smelled nice…freshly shampooed and wearing some sort of aftershave or deodorant with sandalwood tones.

William kissed him lingeringly on the lips, resigning himself to the fact that his groin wasn't going to behave itself, even if he could. "Goodnight, Ronald," he whispered against that tempting mouth.

"Mmmm, night, Will." Ron snuggled up to William, arms and legs wrapping around the man's body contently. "Oh! Glasses!" he pulled away to set his glasses aside before settling in again.


Eric dozed off waiting for his partner to return to their room, lying naked on the bed with his ankles crossed and his fingers laced together over his stomach. His blue-tinted glasses were lopsided on his face and his head was turned to the right, his wavy bangs falling half over his face.

Alan hurried back into his room and closed and locked the door. "Sorry…that was…more complicated than I assumed it'd be, but I have some rose oi—Eric?" Alan frowned. Eric had drifted off. Maybe the man needed the rest more than being intimate.

He walked over to the bed and slipped in next to Eric, kissing his lips gently.

Eric stirred at the soft caress of lips against his own, and he mumbled and opened his eyes. Seeing Alan lying beside him, he smiled and straightened his glasses, stretching a bit.

"Mmm, sorry I dozed on ya, sweetheart. Tha bed is jus' so comfortable." He pulled Alan close, his nude body pressing flush against the brunet's—save the area below the waist, impeded by the baby bump. Eric chuckled, his half-softened endowments swelling to a fully erect state again. "Tha one time I've had ye was o'er five months ago, sexy. Have some faith in tha Slingby virility an' greed."

He kissed along Alan's jaw and he untied his robe and slipped his hand in, his calloused palm gently rubbing his belly in slow circles. "I'm a starved man in need o' sustenance," he purred, "an' mah need fer sleep can wait."

"You were shot by a bullet made of scythe material." Alan reminded, "Resting is understandable. I'm not saying I don't want to do this with you, I'm just saying it's okay if you want to wait a day or two more."

Eric kept kissing him, his lips traveling over Alan's throat as he parted his robe and rolled him onto his back. He wedged a strong thigh between Alan's paler, leaner ones and he stroked upwards, running his hand over his chest. "Undertaker took care o' it," he insisted, "said as long as I dun' overdo anything, it should close up in a week an' tha stitches will dissolve. I feel fine, sweetheart. Jus' a bit tired an' sore. I want ya more than sleep, righ' now."

"Just don't overdo yourself. Just like if this gets to be too much for me and the baby…if it's too much for you we can stop and wait for later." Alan reassured, pulling him into a kiss to get things heated back up between the two of them.

Eric's tongue danced against Alan's and a purr rumbled in his throat. He might not last as long this time as he had their first, due to his body's need for rest and recovery, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He predicted he'd be too afraid of hurting the baby to do this once Alan got heavier, so he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while they still could. He rubbed his thumb over one of the brunet's nipples and he smiled when Alan shivered in response. Kissing his way from his lips down to his chest, he took the other nipple between his lips and teased it with his tongue, while his hand glided lower.

"I won't get rough," he promised between licks, nibbles and kisses. "Both for yer sake an' fer mah own. I jus' want tae feel ye again, love."

Alan's heart sped up and beat so loud he wouldn't be surprised if Eric could hear it. But he wanted to make sure, one last time, that this was for real. "You aren't going to leave again?" he asked, "You'll stay by my side from now on?" Even as he asked, his fingertips ran down along Eric's side and over his hip.

"I'll ne'er leave ya of mah own free will again," promised Eric, pausing his loving attentions to look up Alan's body and meet his eyes, "an' I'll stay by yer side from here on out. I'll swear it in blood, if ye want me too."

"You don't have to go that far!" Alan insisted, putting his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "I just…wanted to hear you promise it this time. I want to know that you'll still be here when I wake up."

"I'll be here when ye wake up in tha mornin'," promised the Scotsman, amused by Alan's horror at the thought of him swearing in blood, "an' tha mornin' after tha'…" he kissed his belly, slowly working his way down…"an' tha mornin' after tha', too." he kissed his hip, and he stroked the underside of Alan's length with the pads of his fingers, petting it teasingly before blowing on it.

"I'll be here every mornin' from now 'till tha day we die, if I've anythin' tae say abou' it." Eric sealed the promise with a kiss on the tip of Alan's arousal, licking the salty hole in the tip as if to punctuate.

"Gh—!" Alan's response was quickly cut off, his head falling back against the pillows and his hips raising off the bed slightly, "Eric…feels good," he groaned. Why was it he always ended up like putty in the Scotsman's hands? All reasonable thought flying out of his mind and replaced with the need of physical touch.

~Because I love him.~

It was the only answer, and he knew it.

Eric deftly reached for the bottle of oil that his partner managed to procure from Ronald, and he opened it while he distracted him with his mouth. His lips slid down the length of Alan's shaft, his tongue massaging the taut flesh as he went. He hummed as if it were a delicious treat—which to him, it really was—and he dribbled some of the oil onto his fingers. He worked on getting himself ready first, not wanting to go for the goal with Alan too hastily. He groaned as he slicked the oil over his erection, reminding himself not to play too long. As he did that, he fondled Alan's balls with his other hand, putting aside the oil for a moment. His mouth moved up and down the flushed cock he was servicing, his head tilting at different angles to treat all sides to the feel of his tongue against it.

He slowed the motions of his mouth when he noticed Alan's toes curling, and he smiled around the girth of his sex.

~No' jus' yet, bonny lad.~

Changing his tactics to simply holding him in his mouth and sucking gently, Eric stopped massaging the sack and he dribbled more oil on his fingers. Satisfied that it was enough, he rubbed some of it into the puckered flesh surrounding his goal, and when it relaxed a bit, he resumed bobbing his head as he slipped one finger in.

Alan gasped and groaned again, moving to twist his body, though his belly restricted his motions, leaving him trapped on his back and under Eric's skilled mercy. He reached down, fingers tangling into long, wavy blond locks. His knees bending, he let out another moan. "Eric—that m-mouth! Nngh, fingers… Hhh…B-better than I remember!" his member twitched in his lover's mouth.

Eric kept it up, more than happy to give him release before seeking his own. He took him down his throat and made swallowing motions, messaging his length in full as he paid merciless attention to that special area inside of him, fingers curling and stroking with each thrust as he added a second one. He rubbed his belly with his free hand, soothing him even as he worked to bring him to completion.

"Mmmm…" he purred around the rigid length he was pleasuring. Like Alan, he realized that the memory of doing this was somewhat pale in comparison to the reality.

"Eric…I…please, I want you!" Alan gasped, feeling his confidence grow as they enjoyed each other's bodies. This had been his dream for so long, and now it seemed to be coming true. Eric was by his side, he was staying there, and he was wanting to be the father to their baby. It was perfect and he just wanted to show Eric how happy his being there made him. Seizing Eric's free hand, he brought it up to his lips and he kissed his fingers.

Eric had never heard sweeter words than that. He was near bursting with need himself, and he thought Alan was ready enough for him. He gently pulled his hand away from Alan's so that he could sit back on his ankles, and he withdrew his fingers from inside of him. Grasping his lover's pale hips, he pulled Alan closer to him, sliding him down on the bed. He parted the brunet's thighs wide, and his eyes blazed down at him intensively as he positioned himself.

"A'right lover…here I come."

He cupped Alan's hips to angle them as he rocked into him, easing the head of his length into the smaller reaper's waiting heat. Eric groaned at the tightness and he paused, even more cautious now than he'd been their first time.

Alan stiffened slightly and he let out a slow breath.

~Just breathe…relax,~ he told himself, and slowly, he found he was able to do so and open his eyes, looking longingly up at Eric as he awaited for his body to adjust. Once it had, he nodded. "I'm…ready for you to move like last time," he whispered.

Eric smiled at him, glad to see he was a bit more confident this time. He eased in further slowly, a half inch at a time with brief pauses, until he was able to fit his entire length in. Alan was tight and clenching a little around him, but he wasn't slightly panicked like before. "How's tha', sweetheart? Need more time?" He was breathing heavily, his body urging him to move. He would not do it until he got the nod from his lover.

"Just…a moment." Alan breathed, "Hold me while you wait?"

A soft smile stretched his lips when his lover complied, gently holding him and giving him soft kisses of comfort. This was enough for him. if they stayed like this forever, it'd be enough. And Alan waited a few moments longer than he needed before giving the okay.

It was a bit awkward to bend over in this position and hold Alan without putting weight on his belly, but Eric complied. His healing injury burned as his back muscles stretched for him to bow over his supine lover, and still he slipped his arms beneath Alan's shoulders and held him. He grunted a little in discomfort and kissed the brunet's cheek. The pleasure of being inside of him made up for the pain of the arched position he was in.

"Cannae tell ya how I've longed fer this again," sighed Eric.

He felt something…pop…or tear…and he clenched his teeth, his breath catching.

Alan frowned, feeling Eric tense up, "Are you alright?" he asked, a hint of his worry in his tone. He wasn't having second thoughts, was he?

"'m fine," lied the Scotsman, biting his lip. He forced a smile at his lover. "Jus' a little sore where tha bullet…went in…"

The pain was spreading and he started to soften within his companion, trembling.

~No, damn it! We've been apart fer too long! Cannae ruin tha moment now!~

"If you are sure…wait—?" Alan ran his hand down Eric's back, his fingers finding a warm wetness that shouldn't be there. Withdrawing his hand, he looked at it, his eyes widening as he gasped.

"You're bleeding!" Feeling guilt over having caused Eric to rip his stitches, the brunet pulled himself out from beneath his lover and scrambled to look at the damage. "Oh no…hold still!"

The stitches had ripped out and stuck up at odd angles around the wound, which looked worse than before. Alan grabbed the nearly empty box of tissues that he kept on his side table, pulling out a few to press to the wound. "Hold this and keep pressure on it!" he demanded, "I'll go get help!"

"A-Alan…wait," gasped Eric, but his lover was already out the door—and he was buck-naked. Eric didn't really care about his own nudity, but he reckoned he should at least try to cover up. Awkwardly pressing the tissues against his left back side, he struggled to get his borrowed pajama pants on with one hand.

It was a terrible situation, but he couldn't help but smirk a little at the thought of shy little Alan running down the halls without a stitch of clothing on, and all because he was worried about him.

"He does love me."


William had just dozed off to sleep when he heard Alan's frantic knocking on his and Ronald's door. "Oh hell, now what?" complained the former supervisor, sitting up.

He clicked on the lamp and reached for his glasses, before going to the door. When he opened it and found Alan Humphries wide-eyed and quite nude on the other side, he blinked. Something must be terribly wrong for him to go out in the open in such a state. William cleared his throat and ushered the smaller reaper inside, hastily grabbing his robe to sling it around him.

"What is the issue, Humphries?"

"Eric ripped his stitches!" Alan panicked, completely unaware that he was standing out in the open hall in front of his former boss, completely naked.

"And I wonder how that happened," responded the brunet dryly as he tugged his robe closed around Alan to provide him some coverage. "Just wait here, and I'll fetch one of our medical students. Knox, wake up. We have a bit of an emergency to deal with and considering how things went the last time Slingby's injuries were tended, we may need your help."

Alan blinked, confused about the robe—until he looked down and realized he'd not slipped back on his pajamas. His face turned scarlet and had he not been so worried over Eric, he would have found some hole to crawl into and die from embarrassment.

Ronald groaned, "But I only just started falling asleep! Tell him no offence, but I love sleep more than him!"

"No arguments," snapped William, flipping the overhead light switch on. "We cannot afford to lose even one of us—particularly not one amongst the skilled when it comes to combat! Humphries, make sure he gets up, whilst I fetch our medics."

"I'm dating the devil in disguise," Ronald groaned, pushing his head under the pillow to escape the light.

"Ronald, please." Alan begged.

The blond sighed and peeked out at him, "Bloody hell…fine. But next time you break your boyfriend, I'm not helping to put him back together!"

"Thank you."


"Mr. Slingby, are you decent?"

Recognizing William's voice on the other side of the door, Eric lifted his sweating head off the pillow and checked to make sure his pajama bottoms were pulled up all the way. "I'm dressed, but never 'decent'," he joked.

He thought he heard a sigh, and then the door opened to admit Spears and both of their medics. One was male, the other female…and their skills in medicine only went as far as basic extraction and minor surgical procedures. Scythe wounds were a bit more advanced to treat.

"Hello Mr. Slingby," greeted the blond woman with a smile, her shoulder-length, blond bob bouncing a bit as she hurried to the bed. Her brunet male companion carried the supplies in and he opened the medical bag to begin assisting her. "Here, let go of the tissues so we can have a look, okay?" coaxed the woman. Jenna, he believed her name was.

Eric panted softly and grimaced as he released the tissues and folded both arms under his pillow. "That's it," she encouraged gently. "Now, let's just see what we're…oh. Um…Kyle?"

The male medic looked, and Eric turned his head to see him wince. "Wha'? I couldnae done tha' much damage," protested the Scotsman.

"Well sir, it appears you've popped at least three of your stitches…and we haven't the proper suturing thread to close the wound."

"Why not use normal thread then?" suggested William with a raised brow. Ronald and Alan came in at that moment. "Isn't normal sutures better than leaving it gaping?"

"Gaping?" repeated Eric, trying to rise.

"Mr. Slingby, please stay down and relax," chastised Jenna. "Kyle was exaggerating, but the trouble is, the wound won't heal without soul thread…and we unfortunately haven't been able to get any. We can stitch you up to close it and we do have ointment that minimizes scarring, but without those sutures, I'm afraid you'll have to be stitched up indefinitely…and they could break and put you right into the same boat."

"The soul thread is made to dissolve over time as the wound closes," explained Kyle, "and as it dissolves, it replenishes the cellular regeneration that gets destroyed from a death scythe wound."

"Th-then stitch me up," demanded Eric, "an' I'll jus' have tae manage, won't I?"

He groaned and jerked as Jenna began to clean the blood away and put fresh gauze on it, bucking in spite of himself.

William went to his bedside to hold him down, and he called out for Ronald to help. "Stop thrashing around like a beast, Slingby," demanded Spears.

"I'll hold him down. Eric, no biting or hitting this time!" Ronald said, slipping in passed William dressed in his robe and climbing onto the large bed to push Eric down to hold him still.

Eric wasn't deliberately trying to fight them, but his instinctive reaction to being restrained was difficult to resist…and even weakened, he was a physically strong specimen. "Damn it, Slingby! Hold still!" shouted William as the gauze they'd pressed down on him began to soak through with fresh blood. When Jenna gave him a worried look, he snapped: "What is it?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I really think he needs more than what we can give him, here."

William sighed and bowed his head. "Humphries, please come over here and talk to your partner. Keep him calm so that the medics can do what they can for him. I shall attempt to reach the Undertaker and see if he can come and assist us. Slingby shouldn't be traveling through portals in this condition, so we can't risk bringing him to the mortician."

"Eric, please calm down. We are only trying to help." The brunet stroked the blond's hair, "You don't want to make it worse, do you?"

Alan pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I'm sorry you are in pain again."

"Who's idea was it to get so active so soon, anyway?" Ron asked, making Alan flush.

"Mine," Eric immediately sad, unwilling to let anyone judge his lover. "Y-ya know wha' a lech I can be, Ronnie."

William shook his head in disgust and left the room, retrieving his phone from his pocket in the process. "Disgraceful idiot."

"Idiot. I didn't give you two that oil so you can rip yourself and interrupt my snuggle time with Will." Ronald muttered, flicking Eric's forehead.

"I could have told him no, Ron." Alan pointed out, "I wanted it, too. This is just as much my fault, and I'm sorry."

"Let's just concentrate on containing the damage until Master Undertaker can get here," suggested the female medic with an amused smirk at her partner. "Mr. Slingby, I'm afraid these broken stitches will have to come out. Can you try and be still for me while I extract them?"

Eric nodded and held his breath, fighting down his instinctive responses to being prodded and poked. "Try tae make it fast."


Undertaker grumbled as he got off the phone, but he went and fetched his medical bag. "Lovely. Running to the li'l refugees' aid again already." He sighed as he packed away what he needed, scouring his supply shelves in his upper laboratory. "But It'd be a shame to let Slingby die after the trouble we went through to save his fool hide."

He finished getting what he needed and he made sure all entries to the shop and his hidden levels were secured, before creating a portal and stepping through it. As soon as he came out on the other side, the first sight to greet him was Grell. The redhead was sitting on a bench under the covered gazebo, just a few feet away from the steps leading up to the main entry of the retreat. He was reading something—a romance novel, perhaps. Undertaker froze and stared at him, admiring him even though he could see little more than a blur at this distance, with no spectacles to correct his sight. There was no mistaking that hair, or the creamy skin.

He tried to think of how far along Grell must be now. Eight weeks? Nine? He would begin showing soon. The redhead looked up and saw him, perhaps smelling the aroma of the incense that clung to him and recognizing it. Undertaker impulsively smiled at him, though he very much doubted it would be returned. He couldn't tell from this distance, and his footsteps carried him closer to the crimson reaper's location against his better judgment.

~Better judgment. Can't say I've had any of that for yonks.~

Grell's eyes narrowed venomously as the silver reaper approached. Just why in Styx would Undertaker dare visit him after what he'd done? Pushing him off onto others as if he'd been absolutely nothing to him the entire Hades-damned time! Maybe at first it had meant nothing. It wasn't supposed to…but they had grown closer, begun a real relationship—or so the red reaper had thought. Turned out that the old reaper had only been using him! And as soon as he found out that they had created a tiny little soul together—gone. 'See ya, Grell, you're on your own with the little death-spawn I put in you~' as if it was all some big joke…as if Grell's emotions had been a fun joke to play with. A game.

"Tck."

The red reaper straitened up and snapped his book shut, half slamming it down on the railing. "What in Hell's frigid tit are you doing here?" he hissed, taking a strong stance and placing his hands on his hips. It was clear he was in no mood for nonsense.

The mortician checked a sigh. He'd been told that Grell had become bitter since he sent him away. He noticed the redhead was already starting to show and he did some math in his head.

~Oh, right. He must have been 'round eight weeks along when he revealed it to me. That would put him at about…twelve weeks, now? Been near a month since I sent him away. I don't know why my poor head seemed t' think time wasn't moving for him.~

And he had the most unexpected urge to reach out and lay his hand over Grell's belly—but even a reaper as impulsive and generally fearless as himself knew better. The look in Grell's eyes suggested he might try to bite of any part of Undertaker that came too close. The volatile redhead wasn't likely to accept any reminders that he had to send him away for his own safety as a valid excuse. Much like Eric had done to Alan, Undertaker had sent his lover away without going with him, leaving him to deal with an unplanned pregnancy on his own. The difference was that the Scotsman was now there with the mother of his child, stepping up to the plate, and Undertaker was not.

When Grell made another impatience sound, it occurred to the mortician that he was still standing there, staring at his belly with his medical bag in clutched in one hand and a book back clutched in the other. "Ah, right. Well, I'm here t' see to your stubborn Scottish friend's injuries, love. Seems he tore the stitches I put in and you lot don't have anything in the way of supplies to repair the damage. Figure I might as well give your medics a few lessons while I'm here and leave 'em with some reading material, so they can better serve your needs when someone gets injured or ill."

He looked at the crimson reaper's subtle little baby bump again. "And so they can give you and Mr. Humphries some proper prenatal care. You haven't come in for a checkup, Grell. Fancy it or not, I worry."

"Worry about what? That I'd go after you for child support? I don't need you!" Grell snapped, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

Lies, he spoke lies. He did need Undertaker—and he wanted him. But he wasn't foolish enough to hope he'd get what he wanted. Eric and Alan were one thing. They were meant to be together, they were soul mates, even if it took them so long to realize it themselves. Everyone else had seen it. Them having an unplanned child together wouldn't change their relationship, except for perhaps making them grow closer faster.

But he and Undertaker? No. They'd never be like that, and how Undertaker reacted to their unborn child was proof enough. He half-way couldn't blame the ancient, however. Grell was Grell, after all. He'd always said William was his soul mate. Ever since their exam together, it had been William his heart throbbed for. However, he wasn't William's soul mate and he'd known that for a long time. He had to make his own love, and he wasn't very good at it. He tended to drive people away quickly when it came to anything more than friendship.

But Undertaker had given him hope.

Hope. Grell scoffed. What place did he have with hope? He was the Red Death! He didn't need more than that.

But he was still livid. Angry at the Silver Death for giving him hope and love, only to crush it like the butt of a cigar.

Grell's arms trembled as he held himself back from attacking the man. He was pregnant, after all, he couldn't afford to put the baby at risk by provoking a fight, no matter how much he'd love the thrill of one.

"I…" Undertaker felt the stirrings of angry impatience. "You…now listen here, temper-pot…I've already explained to you why I couldn't hide you."

He held up a finger. "Too close t' bloody London Dispatch…"

He held up a second finger. "Nowhere t' keep a nipper, 'less you think a basement's a grand place to make a nursery and raise a baby…"

He held up a third finger. "I couldn't come with 'cause I'm still considered 'neutral' in this, and right now, you need someone watchin' your backs and keeping an eyeball out on Dispatch's movements."

He held up a fourth finger, nearly poking himself in the eye with his nails as he waved his hand for emphasis. "And finally…" the mortician heaved a sigh and ran out of bluster, dropping his hand limply. He didn't even realize he'd let go of his book bag to make the hand motions. "…I'd be a piss-poor excuse for a father."

He peeked at Grell from under the cover of his silver bangs, suffering guilty feelings again that he just plain wasn't used to. "I'm doing what I can to make sure you and the nipper are taken care of and safe, love. I really am. Never wanted to get involved in this mess t'all, but here I am."

He gestured at the redhead wearily, his long sleeve flopping over his hand to hide it again. "But you're not a bloomin' angel in this either, dearie. You came 'round with the intention of swaying me to their side, yeah? That was the original point of that first encounter, wasn't it? Thought maybe you could seduce ol' Undertaker…tempt him with that pretty face and body of yours, since all the other candy your former associates tossed at me failed to make me budge."

Undertaker shrugged, even as Grell's hurt expression made him want to kick himself. "It was just business, love. I knew it right away. Doesn't mean I didn't grow fond of you, 'cause I did. I just never knew you'd gotten fond of me too, 'till now."

"It's not that you sent me here!" Grell nearly yelled, "It's not what you did, it's what you didn't do! I don't expect you to be like how Eric is to Alan. If I was just a fuck to you then fine, but you could have at least manned up! Like it or not, this," he jabbed a red-tipped finger at his belly, "is your baby! And yet you treated it like nothing more than garbage all because of the way our relationship had started! I tell you this; I'm not all that thrilled about being pregnant, but at least I can recognize that it's my little baby death! That I have a responsibility to him, and that she needs her mother!" He marched over to Undertaker and gave him a firm shove, "You. Are. The. Worst!"

The ancient staggered back a step, accepting the punishment because in his heart, he felt he deserved it. "Smack me too, if it helps," he offered, for once not smiling. "But best get it out of your system soon, darlin'. I've got a patient to look after and he could bleed out while we stand here jawin' over what a shit father I am."

"Then go! I didn't stop you, you approached me. And for what purpose? To make sure I knew your position on this? I think it's already quite clear—even William without his glasses could see it!"

For the first time in a great while, Undertaker felt weary. "I wanted to look at you, is all. Wanted to see for myself how you are."

He picked up his book pack again and he started off, casting one last, lingering look at the redhead as he passed. "You look pretty. You ought to let me give you a checkup while I'm here, at least. You haven't come in for one yet, and that's not a good idea even if you're taking the prenatal vitamins I've been sending."

He could have tried to tell him that he wasn't as oblivious as he thought. He could have tried to explain himself further. He didn't know how to, though. He was afraid to get attached…afraid to get excited. There were reasons he'd chosen never to try and perpetuate his bloodline, but Grell didn't need to hear about his personal fears, right now. He kept walking, ignoring the stares he got from the exiled residents of the resort as they spotted him in passing. He felt like they were judging him, but that was probably just curiosity.

"Where might I find Slingby?" he asked a familiar auburn-haired young reaper once he made it into the lobby. The young man had an armload of printed data and he nearly stumbled and dropped it, his cap falling forward to push his bangs over his eyes.

"Uh…upstairs," said the young reaper a little uncertainly, shooting Undertaker a nervous smile. "Here, I'll just show you. My room's just down the hall and I was on my way up there to work on this anyway."

Undertaker followed the young man—Alexander, he believed his name was—and he wondered if the fellow was always so jumpy.

"Right here," said Alex when they made it to the fourth room down the left corridor, and he knocked on the door and opened it to peek in. "Doc's here!"

"I'm not a 'doc'," protested Undertaker, "I'm a mortician."

Alex shrugged and pushed the door open more, one earbud falling loose from his ear to dangle. The tinny sound of whatever music he'd been listening to came through the dangling earpiece faintly. "You're more of a doctor than anyone else we've got here."

Undertaker smirked. "Fair 'nough, I s'pose. Thanks, lad. Carry on with…whatever odd thing you were doing."

"See ya."

Just like that, Alex was gone and Undertaker walked in and shut the door behind him. William turned and gave him a formal bow of greeting. Ronald was sitting on one side of the bed, appearing as though he were ready to hold Eric down if he started struggling. Undertaker clucked his tongue at the sight of Eric's trembling, sweating form on the bed, and the young woman looking after his wound blushed a little as the ancient approached.

"Sir," she greeted with a little bow. "We've done our best to temporarily suture it and stop the bleeding." She stepped aside as he approached, making room for him and revealing Alan squatting at the head of the bed holding Eric's hand supportively.

"Hmm, let's have a peek, then." Undertaker set his medical bag on the bed, and the book bag on the floor. He opened the medical bag and procured a pair of wire-framed glasses—human manufactured spectacles that aided his vision enough for him to get a clear view of delicate tasks close up.

"Just what were you doin' to make these snap, lad?" queried the mortician as he turned the lamp that the two medics were using for light to get a better look at it. He reached up and back to pull his hair into a tail and he twisted it around until it was in a bun. That finished, he reached into his robe pocket for a pair of plain metal pins and he jabbed them both into his bun to hold it into place.

"I was…er…we were…" Eric flushed as much as his pallor would allow him to, glancing at his partner—who blushed much deeper.

"Never mind," chuckled the mortician. "I can guess. Well, they didn't do a bad job stitching you up and stopping the bleeding, but I'm going to have to extract these temporary stitches and put new soul stitches in. I'll numb you up a bit first, though."

He nodded at Alan. "You can stay in here with us while I do it, li'l chap. The rest of you clear out. Find out who's a match for Mr. Slingby's blood type too, while you're at it. I get the feelin' he'll need a transfusion."

"I wouldn't go even if you had told me to," muttered Alan. "I want to help, and…this is partially my fault." he stroked his lover's hair.

"Are you saying I don't need to hold him down this time? That I could have stayed in bed?" Ronald pouted with a groan, "Fine! I'm going back to bed!"

"Oh, don't be sore about it, Ronnie," chuckled Undertaker. "I'm sure they needed your assistance earlier. By now though, I think our Gaelic friend is too tuckered out to put up much of a fight, and he's not delirious this time, to boot. I'm sure Alan can keep him in line whilst I patch him back up again."

"S-sorry, Ronnie," muttered Eric into the pillow, shivering.

"William! We're getting back into bed for snuggles and sleep." Ron yawned, grabbing Will's wrist and pulling him along with him whilst ignoring the man's protests.

Finally alone with Eric and Undertaker, Alan relaxed a little more. He was still in William's robes, and quite naked underneath. It was more comfortable with less people around, and Undertaker had seen him nearly naked quite a few times in order for his pregnancy checkups.

"Thank you for coming over here so late, sir." The polite brunet nodded at Undertaker.

The mortician smirked dryly and measured out a dose of local anesthetic for Eric. "I'm starting to get used to it, truth be told. Couldn't very well let the man bleed out though, could I? Now hold still, Mr. Slingby. This'll sting a bit, but you'll thank me for it when your wound goes numb."

Eric compliantly lay as still as he could—though his body was wracked with shivers. He couldn't understand it, because he felt like he was burning up. Why was he shaking so much?

"It's become infected," remarked the Undertaker as he began to inject around the wound. "Not to terribly severe yet, but I think you'll need a shot of antibiotics too, in order t' keep it from getting worse."

He finished up and he capped the needle of the syringe, before replacing it. "Now then, let's give it another good cleaning before I close it up once more. Word to the wise, chaps; if you're gonna play, don't use positions that strain his back or side muscles, yeah? Can't say I blame either of you for wanting to answer nature's call after being apart for so long, but go easy on it."

Eric flushed a little again. "Aye."

Alan was also flushed, "We didn't get that far…it happened when he hugged me." he admitted in a small voice. It was because of his belly, he was sure of it. He hadn't thought that a hug while in that position would strain Eric's back and cause his stitches to rip because of the added buffer between them. He shouldn't have asked him to hug him like that.

Undertaker chuckled. "Well from now on, no bending over or to the sides, and if you fellas are going to do the deed, have a bit of care. I don't fancy coming back here every day to stitch him up 'cause he got too frisky."

He got to work then, thoroughly cleaning the wound and filling it with a medicinal powder especially for the aid in healing such injuries and staving off infections. He then made sure all the old stitching was out, before suturing it up again with some fresh. This time, he gave him twice as many stitches and he applied the same ointment that the medics had used earlier, once he was finished. He surveyed his handiwork critically and gave a nod.

"Right then, now for a dose of antibiotics to the bum. Alan, care to do the honors or shall I? He's your man, after all."

"N-now wait," protested Eric, "Alan doesnae have medical training!"

"…I've had a little." Alan said, "Before they developed my meds as pills, I had to have injections for it. They taught me how to do so correctly so I didn't have to go into the hospital every day for it. I can give you the shot; or is it that you don't want your hormonal pregnant boyfriend sticking you in the butt in any way?" he joked lightly.

"Just dun' want someone comin' at me wi' a needle unless they know how tae use it, smarty-pants," grumbled Eric. He lifted his head a little to look at him with pained, bright eyes. "But if ye say ye can do it, then I trust ya."

Undertaker smirked and patted the Scotsman's shoulder. "That's the spirit." He measured out a fresh syringe, and he handed it over to Alan, along with a sterile wipe for the site of the shot. "I think it's a good idea for all of you to learn at least some basics, under your circumstances. Mayhap Alan here could help with medical matters when he's too far along to get involved in any fighting."

"Are ya gonna turn yer back, auld man?" Eric asked as his lover started to tug down the sheets to expose his rump.

Undertaker shrugged. "I've seen it before, chap…but if you're feeling shy, I s'pose I can turn around." Chuckling softly with amusement, he turned his back on them and waited.

"Be gentle wi' me," pleaded Eric nervously as his partner prepared to stick him. He trusted Alan to get the job done, but he wasn't sure how skilled he was at it and he'd already had a bad experience with a nurse jabbing him right in the hip bone once before. Alan had been there in fact, and he'd latter teased him about scaring half the staff out of the building with his vocal outrage.

Alan cleaned a small spot on Eric's bum with the wipe, and readied the needle, "Don't worry so much. It'll only last a few seconds," he soothed as he gently inserted the needle and injected him with it. He then withdrew it and used another cloth to wipe away the bead of blood that formed. "There, all done."

Eric grimaced at the brief sting, but it was more from the thickness of the medication injected into him than the needle itself. In fact, he'd only felt a little pinch. "Yer givin' me all mah shots from now on, Al."

"I take that to mean he did a good job," guessed the Undertaker, turning around with a grin. "Whoops, I see your bum."

Eric hastily reached down to tug the sheets back up. "What else do ye plan tae do, Undertaker?"

"Like I said; you need a blood transfusion, but your medics can take care of that. Alan, see to it they get these books. I'm also going to leave some proper suturing line and medical supplies for scythe wounds behind just in case. It seems your medics already know how to stitch a wound, but without the right thread in the case of scythes, that won't do 'em much good."

Alan nodded, "I'll make sure they get them, Thank you." Alan stood up, making sure the robe was closed securely around him as he saw the man to the door. "Have you seen Grell?"

Undertaker bowed his head and nodded, looking oddly lost for someone who'd lived for so long. "Briefly. Just long enough for him to bless me out on the way in." He clutched his medical bag to his chest, absently taking comfort in it like it was a teddy bear. "I'd like to give him a prenatal checkup before I go, but I doubt he'll be keen on the idea."

"He needs one. There is only so much we can do here. I try to help him as much as I can, but…I can't give him a full checkup like he needs; like what you give me every few weeks when I'm due for one." Alan placed his hand on his belly, "I'm afraid of what may happen if he doesn't start going to you for at least checkups. Don't get me wrong, you hurt him—a lot—but this is something he and the baby needs. It's more important than your personal relationship right now."

Undertaker sighed and nodded. "Brought some things to do it with, too. I'll try to talk him into it, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

He laid a pale hand over Alan's tummy and smiled. "You're a much better patient. You just take care of yourself, your nipper and that big lummox of a partner, hear? I'll find some way t' convince Grell to let me have a gander."

He let his hair down and he put the pins that were holding it in a pocket, along with his glasses. He plucked his hat off the dresser where he'd set it and he put it back on. Tipping it in farewell, he left the couple alone together and braced himself for another confrontation with Grell.


-To be continued