A/N: okay, firstly this had to be written on my iPad because I don't have Microsoft Word anymore, and on top of that my computer had to be rebooted (or something like that) and my account started from scratch, so all my documents are gone, and I mean everything. So anyone still reading will have to bear with me, because I'm doing this without any pre written documents.

Secondly, I'm sorry for the wait. Really, I am. And on that note, enjoy.

It was a strange thing, really. He'd never meant for it to happen. Apollo wondered if Luna felt the same as he cradled his - well, their, he'd have to get used to that - son in his arms.

The babe gurgled, happily, he liked to think. But it was strange, holding such a tiny thing, like this. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done so.

He looked at the immortal beside him, lying amongst Grecian goose feather pillows charmed to retain their softness, to still have the ability to mould to the shape of a person's body, even after a thousand years, at least.

He forced himself to clear away all thoughts of Luna's body. He wasn't sure how she'd react if she knew he was thinking of her like that. And so soon after...

He stroked the downy gold hair on top of their son's head as he ducked his head down, breathing in the babe's scent. His little, puckered mouth was moving up and down slowly as he settled, his tiny nose twitching. He had yet to open his eyes - Apollo wondered what colour they'd be.

Probably nothing mortals had a word for. They could seem kaleidoscopic in certain lights, shifting combinations of green, gold and silver, for all he knew. But not ever-changing like the eyes of Aphrodite's demigod children, or even the goddess' own - of that Apollo was certain.

And he was glad. The less his son had to do with Aphrodite the better.

He marvelled at how his thoughts wondered. Lack of sleep would do that to a person, he knew, god or no. Had this been what it was like for Luna while she'd been pregnant? He remembered how she'd gazed at nothing, looking nowhere during the lulls in their conversations. Or, more often than not, during their actual conversations.

[They'd gone something like this:

Apollo: How are you?

(Silence.)

Apollo: Luna?

(She'd look through him, then away. Still nothing. Still silent.

(Then an interminable length of time later,

Luna: I'm fine. (She would place a hand over her stomach, flat or rounded as it was.) And he's fine. (Another pause, but shorter.) We're both fine.

Apollo: (maybe a bit disappointed) okay.

(Then he'd either leave her, or start talking about whatever came to his mind. And sometimes she'd call him back, or interject her own musings - but mostly she just sat in silence.)]

He knew though, that it'd been hard on her. It was her first child, after all. And her own mother figure had died when she was nine. Nothing Demeter did or said could make up for that. So she shut down. She must have been so scared.

Apollo had been more than a bit frustrated during the pregnancy. He wished he could have helped her better, wished she'd let him...

(But what's done is done. There's no going back.)

So he'd turned to archery as an outlet for his frustrations. Not... that other thing. He'd never strayed. And he never planned to. He wasn't his father - he was adamant on keeping his vows, on making it work, whatever anyone else said or did.

He looked at Luna, resting peacefully until he'd turned to her. She opened her eyes, silvery-grey and piercing him where he sat.

"Hello." Her voice was soft, probably raw from screaming. It had been a messy birthing, though he hadn't actually been allowed in the room for all his protesting.

No, he'd had to content himself with waiting outside as Luna's screams echoed through the palace.

Huddling the babe close to him, he shifted so that he lay beside Luna. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She smelled of sweat and blood and tears, but she looked clean.

"Hey," he whispered against her skin, holding out their son to pass to her. "Here."

She shook her head. "I like watching you hold him. It's nice."

Her words almost broke him. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, grit his teeth against the tears in his eyes.

"You haven't felt very nice during the pregnancy, have you?" He already knew the answer to that.

He supposed it was a common thing, affecting goddesses and mortal woman alike.

Even her.

Even serene, untouchable Luna. That still shocked him the most out of everything - not what had, or should have been done or said, but just the fact that she could be as affected as any (and every) other pregnant woman. He wished he had the ability to correct (to heal) hormonal imbalance.

He wished he could curse it out of existence. And he wished he could stop wishing for impossible things so damn hard because they never came true.

Well, he thought, chancing a look at Luna, a smile playing on the edges of his lips as he met her eyes then looked down at the babe, almost never.

Even so, he could still remember Luna asking him if he still loved her, once when they were in his palace, reclining on the bed together. He'd said, of course.

And thinking about her body earlier... The way she'd been during the pregnancy, if she'd known what he'd thought she would have stared at him. Looking like she didn't believe he could still find her attractive, or even ever had, for that matter.

Just then their son opened his eyes. Apollo could feel Luna, looking down with him, her chest barely brushing his back.

He glanced at her. She was smiling. Her eyes met his, and he grinned.

Their son was looking up at them with round silvery-blue eyes.

"He has a bit of both of us in him." Apollo said, still smiling. He felt Luna's breath on his skin as she nuzzled the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

He felt her smile as she whispered, almost in wonder, "He does, doesn't he."