A/N: thank you, you beautiful people! I love you! ^w^
...
He couldn't believe it.
Not that he really doubted Nura in the first place, but it didn't sink in until Marcurio actually said it. He was going to have a child. It made sense; the morning sickness, the cramps, the fish... But what was he supposed to do? Surely a pregnant male doesn't require everything a woman does, but how much would he need? He was so confused...
He leaned forward, resting his forehead on his knees, and ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh.
"Hey," Marcurio's voice was soft as he crouched in front of his husband, placed a hand on top of his white head. Dalamus looked up at him. "I'm here, okay? You're not gonna be alone with this. Don't worry about it."
"I know, I won't," he smiled a little, "Just promise you won't treat me like a woman."
The mage grinned. "You know I can't do that."
Dalamus laughed, pressed a quick kiss to his husband's lips. "I shouldn't even have asked."
"Correct!" he stood up triumphantly, hands on his hips, a smirk written across his face.
"You're so stupid," he grinned back anyway, looked down and poked at his stomach experimentally, "I wonder how long it's been..."
"Considering your problems, I'd say three months. Give or take a week or two," Nura answered from across the room, sitting on a bench with her chin in her hand. "But there's absolutely nothing for you to worry about; Marcurio will take good care of you, I can see it."
By now the mage in question was sitting next to his husband on the bench with one arm around Dal's waist; he smiled, leaned over to nip lightly behind a pointed ear. "But you knew that already, didn't you, love?"
And Dalamus squeaked, hummed out a strained little "Mhm!" and scooted away from the Imperial quick as he could because Marcurio knew what that did to him, dammit! No way was he letting the man rile him up in public, in front of a priestess, no less. Thankfully Marc backed off, having intended the gesture as just a little game, but the look in his eyes excited the elf a little inside.
Nura laughed softly, a polite, lilting sound, and went over to a chest hidden in a corner behind the altar. "Here," she held out a translucent little pink bottle, "This is a little something to settle your stomach. Take one swallow before bed, and no morning sickness."
Dalamus nearly jumped up to get it; he absolutely hated the taste of vomit, and he didn't like the look on Marcurio's face when he got caught. "Thank you," he smiled, ready to kiss her hand or feet or whatever he was supposed to do, but she just smiled back and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Anything for one of Mara's chosen."
...
"You do know you're my wife, now, right?" Marcurio smiled, closing the door of their room behind him.
Dalamus lay back on the bed, rubbing his stomach idly. "When wasn't I?"
"Oh, you always were," the mage smiled and lay next to his husband, his hand covering the slightly smaller blue one, "This just confirms it."
"I see."
The Imperial frowned at the tone of his voice. "What's wrong?"
"I'm... I'm tired of being special or chosen or whatever, I'd love to just be a normal Dunmer for once."
"Being normal is boring," he admonished, pressing his face into the elf's neck, "Besides, if you weren't who you are, we never would've gotten married."
"How do you figure?" Dal turned over on his side, facing his husband.
"We started getting together after your friend died in that ruin," slight sympathy tinted his words, and he pressed a kiss to the dark elf's collarbone, "And you were only there because it was a part of your plan to kill Alduin."
"It wasn't my plan," Dalamus denied it immediately, "But I guess you're right."
"And you're having my baby, only a special person could handle that."
The Dragonborn chuckled. "Yes, I feel so lucky."
"You should," and he scooted up enough to press his lips to those of the elf. Their mouths moved together rather than against each other, in something more like the soft flow of a current than the rude crash of a wave. Marcurio turned over on his back, pulling the elf up on top of him without severing their contact. One hand threaded into white hair, and the other curled around the firm mound of Dal's ass.
"You're not getting me pregnant twice," the Dragonborn whispered into the kiss with a smile.
Marcurio chuckled. "Doesn't work that way."
"I never cared how pregnancy works."
"I'm sure," with that he shut up, instead delving deeper into his husband's mouth, and rubbed his thumb down behind Dalamus' ear. The Dragonborn swallowed a moan and shot up straight, knees straddling the mage's waist. "No."
"Why not?" Marc whined, but his eyes were playful.
"You did this to me in the damn temple, that's why not." Dalamus punched him lightly, just to emphasize his point.
The mage sighed, "When do we have to leave for the bandits?"
"Tonight when we leave the city, it's on the way back. We probably passed it coming here."
"So you have time to give me sex now," he grinned, squeezed the hand on Dal's ass lightly.
The Dunmer had forgotten it was there; he raised a brow and smiled down at his husband. "You're such a whore."
"For my husband? I think not. Yes or no?"
Like he was going to say no.
That evening, just before sunset, the two set out for the bandit lair. Throughout Keerava's hugs and their friendly goodbyes, Dalamus expertly hid the slight twinge in his backside within his long gait, and Marcurio covered a dark hickey and a set of ten little welts with the fabric of his shirt (he winced a little when the Argonian bartender gave him his hug). And as a passing gift to the Dragonborn's long-time friends, he gave Talen-Jei those gems he'd been hoping for. His squinting, toothy smile of appreciation was the last they saw of him.
...
Dalamus may have been joking about being treated like a woman when they were in the temple, but this was ridiculous. Marcurio was being all over-protective and he hated it, it made him feel useless because he wasn't doing anything because the mage wouldn't let him.
First it was the horse. They were on their way to the bandit lair, and the minute he (jokingly, mind you) complained about walking for so long, Marc had him up on the horse. He insisted that he was fine, that it was a joke, but the Imperial wouldn't let him come down. At first he'd thought it was sort or cute, he was looking out for his husband and baby, but damn, he was wrong for thinking that.
Marcurio was stealing his gods-damned kills! It just wasn't fair, he liked killing these fetchers, why did Marc get all the fun? He was using that stupid baby excuse again; it was sweet, Dal felt loved, but dammit, he wanted to kill something! If the mage got one more spell in before he could shoot, he'd go insane!
But he couldn't dwell on that now, since there were three of four bandits coming at them at the moment. He actually managed a few shots thus time, got one in the leg and chest and another in the eye. It was shots like these that made his days... And then Marcurio was talking.
"Stay here," he said, low so as to not be heard, "I'll go check it out."
Dalamus huffed. He'd had enough. Too much pent up annoyance and anger built up in his chest and he was taking in a deep breath, a low growl building in the back of his throat, and before it could explode out of him he turned and Shoutedagainst the stone wall of the cave. Marc flinched and turned back to him, "What's wrong?"
"I'm not. A gods-damned. Woman." he growled the words, the Shout still rumbling through his voice. "Stop treating me like one."
"I'm not, I'm just look -"
"'Looking out for you and the baby,' I know," the roughness of his voice was beginning to fade out, but the pissed tone stayed the same. "Marcurio, I was kicking ass before we even knew about this, it's not fair for you to make me stop now. You're suffocating me."
With a little sigh the mage conceded, sheathed his dagger, but his left hand still glowed the bluish-purple of a shock spell. "Fine. Go on in, I'll wait here in case something attacks."
Dalamus' smile was self-satisfied as he strode into the little treasure room, and picked the lock on the large chest with ease. He didn't see the little latch behind the amulet when he grabbed it, because he probably would've found away to stop the trap if he had. When he stood to leave, smile turned smug with I told you so, the wall behind him made some kind of noise and there was a shard of hot pain below his left shoulder blade. A sinking feeling pervaded his entire being, and as nausea fell heavily into his stomach all he could think was how he'd never hear the end of this...
Then he fell to his knees and blacked out.
...
Everything was fuzzy, intangible, just beyond his reach yet close enough to be felt. Sight, sound, touch, all blurred. He forced his eyes open, and after a long few moments and several blinks he could finally see. With his sight came the other senses, slowly, and while there wasn't much noise in the room he could feel a residual tingle in his back, right where he'd gotten shot, the sign of a recent healing.
There were skins under his bare chest, warm, soft fur beneath his fingers. With a little grunt he pushed himself up and over on his back.
"How long has it been?" he asked, voice rough and cracking.
Marcurio was sitting on the other side of the bed, trying at that telekinesis spell again, but when Dalamus spoke the book that had been floating hit the ground with a soft thud. He sighed, then answered, "A few hours."
"Oh."
"I hope you enjoyed not suffocating while you were unconscious."
Oh, for the love of... "Why's that?"
"Rules." Marc turned around, wearing a pair of breeches and a simple shirt, and counted off each phrase on his fingers. "No dragons. No dungeons. No spiders, caves, or ruins. No mammoths or giants. As a matter of fact, no Harbinger. No Dragonborn. For the next six months, you're just Dal."
"That's not fair!" he shouted, sitting upright. "I just fought four dragons the day before yesterday. What makes today so different?"
"You thought I was going to wait until you got to the size of a horker to make you stop exploring?"
No, not really, but he'd hoped.
"Besides, you're the one who wants to be normal." it didn't show on his lips, but there was a smirk in Marcurio's eyes.
"But not completely. I like killing things, for your information."
"Go hunting. Everyone's doing it nowadays."
Dalamus gave up at this point; he didn't really have a choice, did he? "For the record, I'm sorry I worried you."
"I know," Marcurio smiled reassuringly, since he knew how much it bothered the Dunmer, "It's fine."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, of course not." the mage thought, smiled, "As long as you promise not to sneak out."
"You know I can't do that."
Marcurio snorted. "I shouldn't even have asked."