Summary: Everyone is happy and lives happily ever after :D

Before marrying one, Margaret had taken some courses about kaiju anatomy and behavior in her instruction days. Her initial position in the forces hadn't been related to fighting in the field in the slightest. She was meant to work in the shadows, doing the dirty work nobody wanted and taking down people who would make the world a better place from the grave. Still, she had been curious enough to want to learn about the creatures humanity shared the planet with; she had enrolled on her first course, and it had been non-stop since.

Just like she had thought, any knowledge imparted was directly related to the best way to shoot them dead upon sight, or how to best approach a dissection in case it was needed, so the incompetence of her higher ups had forced her to seek information somewhere else. Pytel had been a life savior. Friends since their college days and trainees together, the doctor had been a, even though finite, invaluable source of actual information about the beings they were supposed to fight against. The beings Margaret refused to think were mindless beasts with no regards for anything but blood and death.

Still, her four years in the force and kaiju-study nights had never prepared her for what actually entailed being married to one. To him in particular.

Just when she thought Belloc couldn't catch her by surprise anymore, bam…

Oh, how she wished she had a camera in hand.

(…)

When Margaret first saw Belloc's human form, the hard work was already done. He had said the process was… unpleasant to the eyes, and that it took more time than what one may think; Margaret of course couldn't care any less, so the second time Belloc ever showed his humanoid form to her she took a front row seat. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.

It was like an implosion. Instead of stretching toward the outside, Belloc's skin stretched toward the inside; twisting, changing, breaking and popping in a way that made her insides hurt. There was no blood, no open wounds or broken limbs, but the sound of his bones rearranging themselves to suit his new appearance would chase her for the next eight hours —turns out her husband's ability with his new body was a fantastic remedy—. Margaret loved her husband no matter his appearance, anybody would be able to attest to that, but she couldn't help but laugh in his face —so much and so loud he feared she would suffocate— when things didn't go according to plan.

Turns out changing his whole body structure and anatomy was a process that didn't come naturally to him, and given the lack of appreciation he had displayed toward the human body before meeting her, trying to mimic the proportions of one had proven to be a challenge. Belloc would never say it out loud, too proud to admit to not being perfect at everything, but Margaret had seen him pout when after a few excruciating minutes of shifting, he was still too big for her. Or his arms were too long. Or his legs. Or his fangs were too sharp. Or his skin too rough. Or his claws too long.

What was usually something to laugh about turned out to be a rather stressful experience when Duncan came out to say "hi".

Well, the whole thing had been a stressful experience overall.

For starters, they were alone. No kaiju healer could be trusted around her for obvious reasons and, most importantly, no kaiju healer knew the next thing about human anatomy, so even though finding out they were going to have a baby had been one of the best days of their lives, having said baby was a going to be a pain in the ass.

She had been stashed in the hoard chamber when it happened. Her ginormous belly had been a nuisance lately, so Margaret had decided that a nice knitting session on some plush pillows was an amazing plan. Duncan had, apparently, thought otherwise, because not even an hour later the pillows were dripping with amniotic fluid and Margaret was having a baby.

Alone.

She didn't bother calling for her husband; the hoard chamber was built deep into the cave system, far away from any possible intruder that could get a whiff of what was hiding inside it, and only Belloc knew what turns to take to get there. She also wasn't sure just what time it currently was, so there was also no way to know if Belloc was close to coming back to her or if he would be out until dinner.

She had to take matters into her own hands if she wanted both her and her baby to make it out alive.

She prepared a small corner of the nest with a bowl of water and a few clean towels, stripped of her clothes to be more comfortable and used a big old ornamented chest filled to the brim with clothes and jewels Belloc had gifted her for support. She kneeled on the soft pillows, leaned on the chest, and pushed.

Belloc barreled through the entrance of the chamber like Death was chasing him, with his eyes so open they looked close to popping out of their sockets and claws scratching the ground and walls for support as he rushed through the mountains of gold and, finally, reached his wife. Margaret laughed so hard she felt herself almost relieving herself on the spot, but she was too busy trying to push to care. Belloc's hands hovered above her, crouched next to her little improvised spot, indecisive and too big to really be of any help, until finally she stopped laughing and managed to catch her breath.

"Mind coming down here, hotshot?"

Still with a look of bewilderment and panic, Belloc seemed to finally understand her words and rushed to shift. She closed her eyes, both because the sight of her husband's bones rearranging themselves was painful to see, and because concentrating on her breathing and contractions was starting to take too much energy. She finally felt a weight dropping next to her and two huge hands sneak around her and help support her. She didn't need to open her eyes to know they were, definitely, two big to be human.

"Margaret, when did your water break?" His voice, although as grave and reverberating as always, denoted his nervousness. She smiled and finally looked at him over her shoulder.

"Not even twenty minutes ago, so if I were you I'd get comfortable." Belloc was looking at her as if she had told him taxes were going up another 10% with inflation, but she was too busy trying to distract herself with his beautiful face to care. Her laughing again made his panicked expression relax.

"You're half cooked again, Becky."

He was.

He had been so busy trying to get down as small as possible to fit beside her that he hadn't really paid attention to his humanoid form, and now he sat twice as big as her, with his spine covered in sharp spikes, his horns too long, claws too sharp and feet not correctly developed. They were too long, made to run and stand with bowed knees, and his tail's scales were far too pointy and rough to risk touching his very pregnant wife. Not a very human-proof work; not his worst, either.

He let out a relieved chuckle and made an effort to at least retreat the scales and claws as much as he could so he could touch her without fear of hurting her, and started rubbing her belly.

"It didn't seem to bother you that much last night."

No it didn't.

It took six hours, twenty minutes and lots of blood, sweat and tears. Before she new it, a wriggling, sticky blob fell onto their hands, prepared to catch the baby when it fell from her upright position on her husbands lap. The lump squirmed, screeching like a banshee and covered in blood and who knew what else, and Margaret thought she had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

She brought the squirming monkey to her bare chest, feeling how her husband changed positions and lowered them onto a makeshift bed with clean blankets and pillows, and finally her brain processed what had just happened.

They'd had a baby.

They'd finally had their baby.

Duncan was finally here.

She felt her eyes sting, filled to the brim with unshed tears, and for a moment the sweat sticking her hair to her forehead and the pain and exhaustion were pushed to the back of her head. She only had eyes for that little meat-ball with a pout on his lips and clenched little fists that squirmed in her arms. Margarets breathing slowed down until the accelerated rhythm from those last powerful pushes came to a stop, and almost like a switch, the moment she calmed down, the baby did too.

He looked so human.

He had ten little toes and ten little fingers. A button nose, pouty lips, a mop of blond hair on top of his head and two ears that twitched every few seconds as if they were perceiving every little sound around them. The only telling of his kaiju blood was his skin; a beautiful dark color that under the light of the torches seemed to shine like gold, and the slight uneven texture she could feel on her arms and hands where small, almost unnoticeable scales mixed with plump and soft baby skin.

She had been so enamored, so busy admiring what eight months of waiting had resulted in, that it caught her off guard when Belloc, quiet during the whole ordeal, buried his face on her hair and brought up a hand to grace their baby's head. The claws were now nonexistent, and she noticed that by their uneven look, he had bitten them off until they almost disappeared. The baby squirmed under the unknown touch, but soon relaxed when feeling the warmth accompanying his father's skin. Laying with her back to his chest Margaret couldn't see Belloc's face, but she didn't need to. She could feel him struggling to hide his uneven breathing and the way he tried to hide his eyes from view.

Duncan Belloc-Rosenblatt Junior was born on February 14th, 2003, chunky, and with the King of the Kaiju kissing the ground his pudgy cannoli feet crawled on.