"Why did they paint this gray, little one?" Eli asked.  "I definitely remember telling them that this needed to be a chalkboard wall."

The baby answered by rolling around on top of Eli's bladder.

"No, see?  It's glossy, so it can't be primer."  Frowning, Eli propped his swollen feet higher on the little folding chair in front of him.  "I think I should put the heavy bags on this side," he continued, trying to get comfortable with his massive belly in the way.  "I know, I know.  I keep changing my mind, but this time I definitely think it should be on this side."

"You said that yesterday too," Jeremiah said from the small folding table where he was pretending to check his math homework.

Eli tipped his head back to look at the boy.  "Shouldn't you be at school?"  Ever since Eli had started construction on the gym only a block from the St. James Center, the little alpha had been his shadow.  He'd taken Van's instructions to keep an eye on Eli entirely too seriously.

"It's Saturday."

Blinking, Eli fished his phone out of the pocket of his sweats to check.  "Shouldn't you be home then?"  The baby rolled around some more and he groaned.  "I need to pee.  Again."

Getting up off the little folding chair was a production.  First, he had to get his feet down, which was almost impossible with his belly resting on his legs.  Then, he had to get up without letting the baby throw off his balance.

"You want help?"  Jeremiah watched him, his face carefully neutral.

"I can piss on my own, thanks," Eli snapped.

The teenager shrugged.  "You're not out in ten minutes, I'm calling 911."

Gripping the back of the chair carefully until he was sure his balance was set, Eli considered this.  "Fifteen."

"Twelve and I knock on the door first."

"You drive a hard bargain," Eli said, shuffling for the unfinished locker room.  At eight months pregnant, it was starting to feel like all he did was pee and sleep.  "It's not that I'm not grateful that you've finally decided to let me eat," he said to his stomach as he pushed the temporary door open, "but I think you've punished me enough for being a terrible papa.  At least until you're born."

Finishing up, he washed his hands with the slimy sliver of soap that one of the painters had left and stared at the blank wall, wishing the mirrors were in.  "You're getting too big," he muttered as he ran a hand over the beachball-sized lump under his clothes.  "Soon you'll want out, and then what will I do?  Van has your nursery all ready, with books and teddy bears and so many diapers.  He's going to be a great Dad, you know, so maybe you won't get totally screwed over."  Eli sighed.  "Maybe you should just stay in there forever."

Jeremiah glanced up as he came back out, stretching his shoulders.  "Eight and a half.  New record, man."

"Why are you here?" Eli asked, shuffling over to the half framed room that would eventually be his office.  "There's supposed to be a window in this wall."

"Mom's got a double shift and it's little league day at the Center."  He shrugged, getting up and wandering toward the locker room.  "It's quieter here.  You gonna be okay while I go to the bathroom?"

Eli waved him off with an irritated grunt.  "I'm going to start charging you membership fees."

"This is a free gym, dude.  That's the whole point," Jeremiah said as he disappeared around the corner.  The flimsy door rattled as it swung shut, echoing through the empty space.  He'd be happy when the nice, quiet automatic doors went in.

Designing a gym to be accessible to all ages and levels of fitness had been a huge challenge, but it would be worth it when the place opened.  They already had a waiting list for Natalie's first class that summer.

"I could teach too if you get here by May," Eli said thoughtfully, then grimaced.  "Don't rush on my account."

The big gym was being built in the cannibalized remains of an old retail outlet.  When he'd first seen the space, he'd been convinced it was way too big.  He'd laid awake all night trying to imagine how he could fill it and, by the time the sun had come up, he'd begun to wonder if he should buy the lot next door too.

Van had left the room so he didn't hurt Eli's feelings as he laughed himself sick.

"Your Daddy is not as subtle as he thinks he is," Eli said scratching his nose.  "He thinks I don't notice that my car was refinished.  The scratch from the camera smashing against the window is gone, and the paint is all shiny and new.  I'm not blind."  He rubbed his back to soothe the tight muscles.  "I can't see my feet right now, but I can see when someone sprays bad words three feet tall on the sidewalk."

"Isn't that cute."

Eli's heart stopped, his blood freezing solid in his veins.  "Rick," he said, turning slowly to stare at the other man.

"Hey, baby."  He had those stupid fucking sunglasses on, his grin cruel as he leaned against the wall of the gym.  "You got fat."

Fumbling in his pocket, Eli prayed to the cell phone gods that his fingers would hit the right spots.  "What are you doing here, Rick?"

"Right to the heart of the matter, huh, Thompson?"  Straightening up, Rick sauntered across the room.  The only furniture was Jeremiah's little folding table, and a couple chairs; nothing to use as a barrier.  "You and I have some unfinished business."

"Take it up with the organization, Rick.  I'll be back in the ring in a few months, and we can discuss it then."  Backing away, Eli pressed a hand to his belly.

Rick laughed.  The sound echoed eerily off the concrete, making him sound unhinged.  "Oh, Eli.  You're such an idiot.  I'm not talking about the fight, although I will get you back for that one, believe me."  He tugged off his jacket, dropping it to the ground.  "I still owe you one for Chicago."

Bile welled up at the back of Eli's throat.  "No."

"Yes."  Rick pulled his belt off, the leather hissing through the belt loops.  Flexing it idly, he flicked it so that it snapped.

Eli jumped, flushing as Rick laughed.  "You'll go to jail," he said.

"Baby, I'm a famous, good-looking white alpha.  I have a better chance of being struck by lightning."

Eli stepped back again, stumbling slightly as his back met a wall.  Adrenaline was racing through him, his muscles twitching as he stared at Rick in horror.  "You've lost your fucking mind," he said.  It sounded stupid even in his head, but he'd never actually considered the other man a threat.  Not even when the cops were dragging him away.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Eli put his hands up, his fists tight.  He couldn't block or pull his elbows in with his belly in the way, but he'd be damned if he went down without a fight.

"That's right, baby.  You know I love it when you struggle," Rick said, swinging the belt, his free hand dropping to his fly.

"Eli, run!"  Jeremiah rounded the corner, the slam of the door the only warning as he launched a can of paint into the air.

It was too heavy for him, even as big as he was, and Rick's reflexes were too sharp.  Dodging the main brunt of it, Rick grunted as he took the heavy hit to his hip.  "You little fucker."  Wet paint sprayed everywhere.

Eli watched in slow motion as Rick closed the distance and clocked the teen on the chin with a swift uppercut.  Jeremiah dropped like a rock.  Drawing back one foot, Rick aimed a deadly kick at his face.

"Leave him alone," Eli said, grabbing the trailing edge of the belt.  "You and me, remember?"

Rick stared at him, his chest heaving.  His hair was disordered, and the sunglasses sat low on his nose, making him look even more unhinged.  Slowly, he started to smile.  "That's right, baby.  You and me."  He tugged on the belt, pulling Eli closer.

Swallowing hard, Eli slid his eyes over Rick's shoulder, judging the distance.  "Whatever you say, Rick," he said stepping closer.  When Rick raised his fist, muscles clenched and that terrifying smile on his face, Eli struck.  Shoving hard, he didn't wait to watch Rick stumble over the folding chair, stooping to grab Jeremiah's arm and drag him toward the locker room.

The creak of the door was barely audible over the crash and cursing, Eli's pulse jumping as Rick roared in fury.

"You little bitch!"

Slamming the door shut, Eli slid the cheap bolt home and leaned against it.  It was impossible to get enough air, and gray spots danced at the edge of his vision.  Something heavy slammed into the door.  Eli jumped, fumbling in his pocket for his phone.

"Van?" he hissed.

"Eli, Jesus, hang on.  There's a car on the way."  The sound of sirens almost drowned out his voice.  "I'm right behind them, just hang on for me, okay?"

"You think this piece of shit door is going to stop me?" Rick shouted, and Eli fumbled his phone, sending it skittering along the tile floor.  "You're just making this harder on yourself, baby."

The door bowed inward with the force of Rick's hit, a loud crack echoing across the tile.

"Look at you, Thompson.  You thought you had the balls to be the Champ?  Everyone's going to know that you're a fucking worm when I'm done with you."  The door rattled again, and Jeremiah groaned, shifting on the tile.

"Hey," Eli whispered and the teenage slit his eyes open.  "Go hide in the showers."  Shaking his head stubbornly, he tried to get up, but Eli put his foot down when he slumped to one side.  "The cops are on their way."

Reluctantly, Jeremiah scooted toward the back, not taking his eyes off the door as it shook.

"I'm gonna make sure that your little brat knows exactly what kind of a whore you are.  Freaks like you shouldn't be allowed to breed."  The door cracked again, the top hinge tearing free.  "You should thank me.  At least this way, you'll have an excuse for being a shitty parent."

Putting a hand on his stomach, Eli felt the panic wrapping around his spine pull tight.  The baby shifted, kicking him in the kidneys, and he choked.  He was a terrible papa.  He was going to fuck up his kid, and they weren't even born yet.

The baby kicked him again, and he winced.  "You are going to be grounded for the first two years of your life if you keep doing that," he said, tears welling up in his eyes.  There was a ringing in his ears and everything was going numb.  "I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you.  I should have been stronger like my mom was."  Smoothing his shaking hand over the too-tight skin, he frowned.  "You would have liked your grandma.  She would have loved you just as much as I do."

Eli looked up, belatedly realizing that the door had stopped shaking.  There were scraping noises coming from the other side of it now.  Jeremiah had the phone pressed to his ear, whispering harshly.

Something dripped onto his hand and he looked down, sending more tears dripping off his nose.  "I love you," he whispered to his stomach, patting it gently.  "I love you," he said again, his voice wondering.

"Eli," Rick called from outside, his voice creepily singsong.  "Did you tell that kid what a shitty papa you're going to be?"

Fists clenching, Eli felt heat rush into his face.  Rage clouded his vision, and he stepped away from the door, looking around.  There wasn't much in the bathroom to use as a weapon, but he was good at improvising.

"You were right, Rick," Eli said, walking over to the sinks.  He could hear Rick grunting and straining at something on the other side of the door.  "We do have some unfinished business."  The clink of the last hinge giving away covered the grinding crunch of Eli leaning his weight on one of the sinks.

"I knew you'd see it my way, baby," Rick said as the door swung open and crashed to the ground.  He'd lost his sunglasses at some point, his face and clothes smeared with dust and paint.  "You ready to behave for me."

Eli nodded, his hands sweating on the slick porcelain.  He only had one chance to get this right.

Stepping closer, Rick cracked his knuckles.  "Then let's do this, baby."

Swinging with all his might, Eli smashed the cracked corner of the porcelain sink into the side of his head.  Blood flung in an arc as he was spun completely around, his face a mask of shock.  Slowly, he collapsed to the ground, his muscles jerking in reflexive struggles.

"I'm not your fucking baby, asshole," Eli said, spitting on the ground, "and I'm going to be a great papa."

Jeremiah stared at him in shock, the phone held limply in his hand.  "Holy shit."

Eli twitched as the baby rolled around on his bladder.  "Yes," he said, patting it gently.  "We should tie him up in that leftover wire from the phone lines."  Glancing at Jeremiah, he tilted his head.  "Can you get that?  I'm going to take this trash outside."  He frowned.  "And then I have to pee."

Scrambling to his feet, Jeremiah gave Rick's unconscious body a wide berth as he left the room.

"That tickles," Eli complained to his belly as the baby rolled over again.

 

#

 

"No, no.  Cross the tape over, then between.  If you do it the other way, it builds up too thick."  Eli shifted uncomfortably and Rick groaned.  Digging his feet deeper into the semiconscious man's gut, he watched as Jeremiah tried wrapping his hands again.  "Over, under, over, under, cross."

"Like this?" the teen asked, making a fist.

Both of them looked up as tires screeched on the asphalt out front, followed a few seconds later by pounding footsteps.

"Eli," Van stumbled to a stop, staring at the scene.

"Hi," Eli said cheerfully, digging his heel into Rick's kidney.

Swallowing hard, Van picked his way across the wet paint.  "You're okay," he breathed.

"I think I pulled a muscle in my arm," Eli said, "but it was worth it to smash a sink over his head."  Eli squeaked, a surprisingly small sound for such a big man, as Van pulled him into his arms.  "I'm okay."

"I thought you were going to die," Van said, his eyes wet as he stroked his hands over every inch of Eli's skin.  "Is the baby?"

"We're both fine, right, little one?" Eli asked his stomach very seriously.  "Yup.  We're fine.  The bad man didn't do more than scare us."

"Jesus, that could have been so bad," Van said, squeezing Eli too hard.

Groaning, Eli dropped his head to Van's neck.  "I have to pee."

"You need to go with the EMS to get checked out," Van corrected.  "The hospital might want samples."

"He can pee now and when he gets to the hospital," Jeremiah said, tangled up in the tape as he tried to remove it.  "He pees like every five minutes.  You know what the first thing he said was after he clocked that guy with a sink?  I have to pee."

"That's not true," Eli said, waving off the incredulous looks.  "I said we should tie him up, and we did."

"Then you went pee."

"My point is that I had my priorities straight, kid," he glared at Jeremiah, who just rolled his eyes.  There were cops trickling into the room behind Van, and Eli gestured to the teen.  "He got clocked with an uppercut, so you'll need to check that his brains are still in there."

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," Van said, still pressed tight against him.

"Okay," Eli said.  "I've decided our son is going to be named Riley.  If it's a girl, you can pick the name."

"Hey," Van said, reluctantly moving aside so that the paramedic could take a look at Eli.  "Don't we get to discuss this?"

"You've been telling me for six months now that you're positive it's a girl," Eli said, frowning as he was hooked up to a blood pressure cuff.  "If you're so sure about it, put your money where your mouth is."

"Fine, but when our daughter is born, you don't get to complain about what I pick."

"If you name my child Princess Lemonade, I will murder you in your sleep," Eli said.

"I'd help," Jeremiah said, and a couple of the cops nodded.

"I was eleven," Van whined, pulling Eli in for a kiss.  "You're really okay?"

"I'm really okay," Eli whispered back, "and I really have to pee."

Van's laughter echoed through the space.