Robin got a doctor's appointment for the end of the month. Keeping true to my word, I drove him there. He thanked me again. I told him it was what anyone would do. Honestly, I felt pretty useless, considering the only thing I could do for him was drive him around.

"I'm kind of nervous," he admitted when we finally sat in the waiting room. "What if it was a false positive or something?"

"Did you take only that one test?"

"No." He blushed.

I chuckled. "You're going to be fine. I'm sure the baby will be fine too."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. I wished there was more I could do to make him comfortable. Maybe distract him somehow? Getting an idea, I took out my wallet and fished for old receipts. I always kept a couple around that I probably wasn't going to need anymore. After a short search, I found the receipt for a toaster I'd bought a year ago. Perfect. I started folding it.

"What are you doing?"

"I’ve improved my origami skills. Watch." It was a little bit tricky because this wasn't the origami paper I was used to, but I was a pro. Well, not a pro, but I had a lot of practice. This was how I'd distracted myself from my problems at home when I was a child. A relative had brought back an origami magazine from a vacation and once I'd gotten my grabby hands on it, there'd been no stopping me.

"What are you making?" All of Robin's attention was on my hands now, just the way I wanted it.

"You'll see." I folded the paper slowly, both because I wanted the result to look good and because I wanted to distract him for as long as I could.

"I remember how you used to leave paper cranes in my locker when I was new at school."

"You always looked so sad. I wanted to cheer you up a little."

"I know. It worked." The corners of his lips turned upward. "Though I did wonder why it was always cranes. I know you can do more shapes."

"There's this myth..." I paused, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Sometimes talking about the things you believed as a child could do that to you. They never seemed quite as magic through the eyes of an adult. Was Robin going to think I was silly?

"What myth?" he prodded.

"When you craft one thousand paper cranes, you're granted a wish. I was wishing for a better life for both of us."

Robin didn't think I was silly, or if he did, he didn't let it show. "That's so sweet," he said, eyes shining with unspoken emotion. "You know, I think in a way, your wish came true. You've made my life better, anyway."

I gave him a shy smile before focusing back on my origami, not really sure how to react. "You've made my life better too." It had been pretty dreary before Robin entered the picture. There was a time in my life when ninety percent of my daily conversations had taken place between me and Mr. Toodles, Mr. Toodles being a stuffed penguin who’d been my only friend in my home. My asshole of a father had taken him out with the trash one day when I was in middle school. Probably the only time he’d ever taken the trash out willingly. But there was no point thinking about that now. Trying not to let my emotions distract me, I finished folding the paper and presented it to him.

"Oh! A dog!" He clapped his hands together. "How cute!"

"It's for you. You can keep it."

"Thank you." Gingerly, he took the paper dog from me. He didn’t seem as worried now. Maybe I wasn’t totally useless after all.

Robin’s name was called only a few minutes later. Automatically, I rose from my seat at the same time as him.

"Oh." He turned to me. "Are you going in with me? You really don't have to."

"Would you like me to?" It felt like the right thing to do, but I was going to go with whatever made Robin more comfortable.

Robin hesitated at first, but then he nodded. "If you wouldn't mind."

The doctor Robin had picked out, Dr. Rider, turned out to be a middle-aged lady with a firm hand-shake and a kind smile. "Let's take a look at that embryo, shall we?" she said with the voice of a woman who loved her job before she went to work. Robin didn't seem to feel uncomfortable that I was watching as the doctor put a wand-shaped device up his butt. Of course, there wasn't much down there that I hadn't seen yet, and Robin seemed much more concerned with the unborn life inside of him than me.

"This is why I was able to put up with all the slurs I got thrown at me for being omega, you know?" he whispered to me while the doctor fiddled with the placement of the device. "Just knowing that I had the ability to create life, that I could make my own family someday, and now it's happening. It's incredible." He smiled, but he also looked like he was close to tears.

"It is," I agreed. No matter what I thought of my own ability to parent—or lack thereof—, even I could see that what Robin was doing was incredible. Having a baby and taking life into his own hands. I was proud of him.

"There's your sweet pea," the doctor said, pointing at the monitor next to her. I couldn't make out much, to be honest—certainly nothing that looked like a baby—but I figured that the tiny worm-shaped thing she was pointing at was the embryo. "It really is about the size of a pea right now," the doctor continued, "but everything looks good here, so that's going to change soon. Congratulations." She smiled at both me and Robin.

"I'm not the..." I started to say, but then I stopped I was the father, wasn't I? Even if Robin wanted to raise this kid by himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dr. Rider said. "I simply assumed. You look cute together." She winked. "In any case, you're being a very good friend for coming in here with him today. Omegas shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"He's the very best friend I could have," Robin said, reaching for my hand. I gave it to him willingly.

The doctor nodded, and then she got back to work. "Now let's see if we can find the heartbeat, shall we? Don't be concerned if we can't detect it yet, but... Ah. There it is." And just as she said it, we heard the sound of the baby's heartbeat for the first time. On the monitor, I watched a white line shoot up and down on a graph, following the pattern of the little one's heart.

Robin stared at it too, transfixed. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. That was all the communication we needed. We had different opinions on babies, but we both knew we were witnessing something amazing.