"Hey, baby bro. Don't forget you've got interviews for the security position today."

"Oh, thank God," Marcus moaned, ducking out of the way as his sister threw a pillow at him.

"Watch it, or I'll decorate your office without you," Amelia snapped.

"Do," Marcus said, gesturing at the sample fabrics and paint swatches dripping from every available surface. "Please do. I will pay you to leave me out of this process."

Steven laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Careful. Your office will end up lime green."

"My temporary office," Marcus said. "Emphasis on the temporary. She can paint it neon pink if she wants. I only have to deal with it until I hire someone else to." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I don't know why you're bothering. I'm probably going to hire someone else within the week."

"Mom insisted," she said with a shrug, and they all nodded.

"Well, I've got interviews," Marcus said gleefully, "so you'll have to make do without me."

Her eyes slid away from his, and she smirked. "Just what I wanted. Free rein."

"Now you've done it," Steven said. "She's gone mad with power."

"Don't care," Marcus said, dragging him down the hall as Amelia cackled dramatically behind them. "Really don't care."

"Are you sure we can't tempt you to stay on?" Steven asked as they headed for the stairs. "I know we're not as high tech as, say, Bainbridge and Parker, but we've got great people working for us. You might even like a couple of them."

"Ha ha," Marcus said dryly. "I love Mom and Dad, but if I have to work here another month, I'm going to lose my mind."

"So what are you going to do? I've heard your rant on the evils of big corporations." He held the door open as they headed down the festively painted stairwell. Nobody waited for the elevator in the Stern buildings unless they had to, so his mother had made sure the staircases were inviting.

"I don't hate corporations," Marcus grumbled. "I just don't think it's possible to know everything that goes on at one after they reach a certain size, and I don't like it."

"So no Wall Street for you, then?" he teased.

"Ugh," Marcus said with feeling. "Actually, I was thinking of starting my own consulting firm. Something small."

"After you find us a security expert," Steven said, wiggling his eyebrows as they emerged onto the first floor.

"Yeah, yeah." Marcus dragged his feet across the carpet. "Into the breach."

"You'll be fine." Steven grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "In fact," he said, pressing a finger to his temple, "I foresee that you will have great success. Greater success. Greater than great success. I foresee that you will find the perfect person for this job. Today! At two o'clock!" He waved his hands around and then bowed. "There you go. Today at two. Piece of cake."

"You're an idiot," Marcus said affectionately.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Steven said, sticking out his tongue as he disappeared through the door to the covered walkway that lead to Building B.

"Idiot," Marcus muttered, shaking his head.

The lobby was one of his favorite parts of the Stern buildings, the hundred-year-old hardwood floors and matching plaster detailed ceilings just screamed welcome to him. Paired with the comfortable chairs, two sturdy coffee tables, and the ever-cheerful Penny behind the counter, it was a great space.

Two of his interviews were already waiting, both young and nervous. The interviews went well, but they didn't have the kind of experience he was hoping for. He set their résumés aside.

By noon, he had two very good prospects and a thick stack of probably nots. It hadn't been nearly as bad as he was expecting, and he felt justified in taking a long lunch at his favorite sandwich shop. It was always packed, but the owner was an old friend, and Marcus was able to sneak in the back.

He liked to people watch while he waited for them to put his order together, his eye snagging on a heavily pregnant omega who was just leaving. He noticed them more now, omegas of all kinds, but especially the pregnant ones. It caused a sharp pang in his chest every time.

The baby would be due in February, right around Valentine's Day. He'd forbidden his family and friends from snooping, but if he knew Luke, the lawyer had a whole stack of forms just waiting for an occasion to be used. He'd give it till Christmas. That was long enough for Gio to decide what he wanted to do about custody.

That sent another pain through his chest, and he rubbed at it distractedly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to have split custody so that he had an excuse to see the omega, or if it would just be easier on them both for Gio to want nothing to do with their baby. His Gio, the one he still saw every night in his dreams, would never be so cruel, but Agent Rizzi, with his cold eyes... Marcus didn't know what to expect.

Sandwich in hand, he went back to the office. There was a very spacious cafeteria that had gone in when he was still in middle school, but he didn't want any company. The roof was used a lot less now that they'd filled half of it with solar panels, and the other half with Amy and Rochelle's salad garden.

He found a sun lounger wedged in between the tomatoes and the kale and settled down to eat.

The only thing about not having company was that it left him a lot of time to think. To combat the urge to analyze and reanalyze every interaction that he and Gio had ever had, he ate too quickly and choked on his roast beef. That lead to knocking his soda into the beets, which lead to a five minute search to find the damned thing. He laughed until he cried.

In a much better mood, he headed for the lobby to continue his interviews. They were getting near Steven's magic two o'clock candidate. He had a few theories about who it was, probably a friend of Steven's. He'd keep an open mind.

The lobby was quiet and empty, Penny's glitter-coated 'Out to Lunch' sign still sitting on the counter.

Marcus frowned, double checking the time. He was about to head upstairs and see if she'd gone home sick when he noticed the book on one of the coffee tables.

It was violently pink, the heroine's white-blonde hair fading into the hearts and flowers that lined the edges of the book. The hero was shirtless, low-slung pants leaving very little to the imagination, and across his abs, the swirling script of the author's name. Haley Peters.

His heart sped up until it was thrumming like an engine in his chest, the tiny flicker of hope that he hadn't even realized was there flaring to life. There were hundreds of thousands of people who read Haley Peters, but the facts didn't matter one bit to his heart.

He was going to feel like an idiot if he was wrong. He didn't think he was wrong.

The door to the lobby bathroom swung open to the whir of the hand dryer, and Marcus stopped breathing.

"You've gotten huge," he said. It was the first thing that came to mind, staring across the room at Gio. He looked enormous and tired and beautiful.

"Whose fault is that?" Gio asked, his eyebrow raised.

Marcus laughed. "Touché," he said, relief flooding his system with waves of hot and cold. This was his Gio, the man he loved. "I love you," he said, then wished he hadn't.

The smile Gio gave him, soft and warm, wasn't anything he'd seen before. He wanted to see it again as often as possible.

"I love you, too."

"What are you doing here?" Marcus asked. He was halfway across the room already, and he didn't remember moving. His hands itched to touch and explore the new shapes of the delicious body in front of him. "Not that I'm complaining."

Gio blushed, glancing to one side. "I have an interview." There was a smear of mustard along the side of his chin.

"You're my two o'clock?" Marcus cursed his brother under his breath using all the best curses that Gio had taught him. "You didn't have to make an appointment." They were practically touching, only the wide bulk of belly keeping them apart. It was even bigger up close. Marcus couldn't fathom how it would get any larger, but the baby wasn't due for two more months.

Shrugging, Gio tried to cross his arms and failed with the bulk of the baby in his way. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I kind of need the job," he said.

Marcus blinked. "What about the FBI?"

"I quit."

Shock made Marcus choke on air. "You quit?"

Nonchalantly, Gio picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, the spiderweb of lines around his eyes the only sign of tension. "Technically I'm on maternity leave pending the processing of my early retirement." He wrinkled his nose. "The director thought it would look bad if I resigned right after they pinned me full of medals and promoted me."

"You quit." His brain wouldn't stop repeating it with varying degrees of emphasis.

"I realized a couple things," Gio said, trying to cross his arms again and getting frustrated. He twined his fingers together until Marcus caught his hands. When he looked up, their eyes met, and it was just as electric as the first time.

"What did you realize?" Hushed with reverence, his words barely had enough sound to carry. Pulling Gio into his arms, he pressed his lips to the top of his ear so that he'd be able to hear.

"That I loved you and hated my job. Not all of it, but enough that I didn't want to stay." He tilted his head to press against Marcus's chest.

Marcus stared down at the perfect man in his arms, the hard press of their baby under his hand. Gio loved him. He loved them.

Was it enough?

He glanced at the book on the table. Maybe he didn't know anything about Gio's family, and maybe some of what they'd had was part of the cover. It didn't matter because he knew enough.

"I don't know," he said, stroking his hand over the curve of Gio's belly and almost jumping out of his skin as he felt the barest flicker of movement. "I don't know," he said again, his voice breaking as he chased that flutter, "if I can be seen with the kind of guy who reads Haley Peters."

Gio's head came up so fast that Marcus narrowly avoided having his nose broken again. "Are you kidding me?" he growled. "I come all the goddamned way down here, and you call me those kinds of names?"

Trying to shush him while laughing hysterically, Marcus slid into a chair, resting his face against the side of Gio’s stomach. "My mom will hear you."

"Why do you think I fucking care?" Gio snapped.

"Who is out there using such awful language?"

Gio's eyes widened in horror, and Marcus burst into fresh peals of laughter, tears pouring down his face.

"That better not be you, Marcus Andrew Stern," his mother said as she strode through the doors with her hands on her hips. When she saw Gio, her steps faltered. "Oh... Oh! Dagnabbit and shucks. I wasn't supposed to disturb you two."

"Dag... nabbit?" Gio said, low enough that Marcus could barely hear him.

"Didn't you ever wonder where I got it from?" Marcus asked, struggling to get enough air. "Mom, this is Gio."

"Oh, he's cute, honey. We'll have to work on that mouth, though," she said, bustling around. "Look at you, standing there while my son makes a fool of himself. Sit down, dear. I remember how much I loved my easy chair when I was pregnant."

"I'm afraid there's no help for my mouth, ma'am," Gio said, flushing just the right shade of red to make Marcus want to kiss him. If he bit his lip, all bets were off. "I grew up around chefs in a restaurant kitchen. I can curse better than most sailors, and I tend to."

Pursing her lips, she tutted at him. "Little pitchers have big ears, dear, and you'll have to clean up your language, or your little darling will be sent home from kindergarten, just like Steven was."

Marcus slid right off his chair, curling up on the ground at Gio's feet and howling until he felt like he was dying.

"Get up, you big dork. Or at least make yourself useful and rub my feet." Gio propped his ankles on Marcus's legs, staring down at him as he slowly got his breathing under control.

"I like him," his mom called from inside the supply closet. "Here you go, dear. Try this lotion for your belly. It works wonders on stretch marks. It's organic." She smiled at him until he took the jar. "How do you feel about rallies?"

Gio glanced at Marcus, his eyes wide. Marcus could only shrug, afraid he'd start laughing again if he opened his mouth.

"I did warn you," he said, risking it. Only a tiny giggle followed, and it was easily squashed, so he counted it a win.

"Do you like protests? I have a great protest march coming up next week. Oh, no, dear. Not with those ankles. Maybe next year." She wandered off, musing to herself about how to make protests pregnancy friendly.

"Maybe," Gio said skeptically. "What the hell?" he asked Marcus. "You didn't warn me that everyone you know is insane. I thought your brothers were the worst of it."

Marcus blinked. "My brothers are perfectly normal."

He threw his hands in the air. "I don't even have the energy to explain to you how crazy your friends are right now."

Pausing with his hands around one swollen ankle, Marcus stared up at him. "Tomorrow, then. We've got time." He rolled up onto his knees and pressed his lips against Gio's. "We have all the time you need."

"It's a long list," Gio said. "It's going to take a while."

"I'm all ears." Marcus smiled against his lips as he pulled him in for the first kiss of the rest of their lives.

"Smartass."