Eliot checked his phone every time he got up to pee that night. No response. When he woke for the morning with still no message from Darcy, he shoved his phone back under his pillow and stumbled out of bed to pee once more.

He came scurrying back to check his phone one more time, realizing that if Darcy had an iPhone, Eliot would be able to check that he’d at least seen the message.

Nope. sent as an SMS. Why hadn’t Eliot thought to message him on any social media platform that told you when someone read your message? If he did that now, Darcy might feel like he was stalking him, sending him messages anywhere he could, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not now. Not when he needed Darcy’s goodwill the most. No matter what happened between them, Darcy needed to know the baby was his.

But there was nothing he could do until Darcy responded. He shoved his phone back under the pillow as Jane poked her head in. “Hungry?” She was wearing her cooking apron, made of white and purple striped fabric and edged in pink ruffles.

Eliot’s stomach churned, but not from hunger. He knew that in a half hour, he’d be roaring hungry, and then probably only be able to fit in three bites, though. That’s what happened when you had a baby squishing your insides like too much fluff inside a stuffed animal.

“I made bacon.” Jane wiggled her eyebrows, and Eliot sniffed the air.

“I can probably fit a few pieces in.” Eliot stood and stretched.

“That’s what I thought. I’ve got one round ready and cooled. Better hurry before I eat them all.” She disappeared with a flourish of her pink ruffled cooking apron.

Eliot was on his second plate of bacon when there was a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Eliot asked.

Jane shook her head, wiped her hands on a towel, and went to answer the door. The short wall between the kitchen and the door just blocked Eliot’s view from his seat at the breakfast bar, even though he craned to see who it was.

“Oh! Hi, um…” Jane’s flustered greeting told Eliot nothing about who was paying them such an early call. Jane backed up and turned to Eliot with an anxious expression, and then Darcy stepped into view, his eyes going straight to Eliot’s. “Why don’t I just leave you two… I need a shower anyway. Oh! But the bacon!” Her eyes darted between the door to her bedroom and the sizzling pan of bacon.

“I can finish the bacon,” Darcy said, surprising Eliot. “Feel free to do whatever you need to.”

“Yeah, um…” Jane looked to Eliot for confirmation.

“Go ahead and get ready,” Eliot said. He knew she didn’t feel a sudden need to wash off the bacon grease, she was trying to figure out if he wanted space and time alone with Darcy.

Jane took off her apron and went to hand it to Darcy, then thought better of it and tried to take it away, but he took it with a serious expression and donned it without a word, stepping up to the pan and lifting a fork to start flipping pieces of bacon. He looked ridiculous in the frilly apron, but the last thing Eliot felt like right now was laughing.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Eliot said. What a stupid thing to prioritize, with all that was unsaid between them.

“I don’t,” Darcy said. “Nothing much beyond bacon and mac and cheese from a box.” He pulled several pieces to the paper towel covered plate next to the pan. Eliot tried to take a sip of orange juice and swallowed wrong, and he started hacking and wheezing as the acidic liquid burned his throat.

Darcy was immediately by his side, making sure he was okay. Could he breathe? Was he choking? Eliot waved those concerns away and pointed at the juice, coughing too hard to speak. Darcy immediately got him a glass of water, and as soon as Eliot could draw a breath, he took a sip and gargled away the remnants of the burning sensation.

“Sorry,” Eliot said, wiping his mouth. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Darcy’s hand lingered on Eliot’s back for a moment longer, and Eliot held his breath, waiting for something, he didn’t know what. But then Darcy drew away, saying, “Let me just finish up with the bacon.”

The silence between them had a weight of expectation, and Eliot’s mind raced. How could he tell Darcy the truth? He would tell him, that wasn’t any question. But he didn’t want to be seen like George Wickham, using the baby to extract money from Darcy. That was the farthest thing from his mind. If Darcy didn’t want anything to do with their child, then fine. Eliot would accept that. It wasn’t easy being a single omega with a kid, but thousands of omegas managed it every day.

Eliot didn’t think Darcy would turn his back on his own flesh and blood, though. At the very least, he would do his duty. But… was it wrong to hope for more than that.

Darcy set the plate of finished bacon in front of Eliot with a clink.

“I’m full,” Eliot said. “But help yourself.”

Darcy didn’t make a move to retrieve himself a plate, simply standing next to Darcy, his eyes burning into Eliot’s soul. “I didn’t come here to eat bacon.”

“What are you doing here?” Eliot asked, unable to keep the hope and fear from his voice.

“I asked you a question several months ago,” Darcy said. “And you turned me down. For very valid reasons, given your understanding of me at the time. I’ve come to see, that is… if you still feel the same, tell me now, and you’ll never see me again. But if--”

Eliot couldn’t get to his feet easily, so he reached up and grabbed Darcy by the collar, pulling him down into a kiss. Darcy’s lips were frozen under his, but only for a moment. All at once, the softened, and his arms went around Eliot’s back, pulling him from his bar chair and holding him tightly to Darcy’s chest.

Or, he tried.

Eliot’s stomach bounced against the bar, pushing his weight sideways and throwing them both off balance, breaking their kiss. Darcy caught his balance, supporting Eliot until he was able to settle his feet under them.

“Does that answer your question?” Eliot asked.

Darcy smiled, pressing his forehead to Eliot’s.

Eliot took a shuddering shaky breath. This was it. He would lose this dream in the next moment, or he would gain everything.

Darcy’s hand hesitantly drew around Eliot’s body from his back to his stomach.

“She’s yours,” Eliot blurted, then braced himself for Darcy’s response.

It wasn’t what he had expected. It wasn’t what he had dared imagine. It was more.

Darcy’s eyes closed and a single tear escaped the corner of his eye. “I had hoped that was the case. You must think I’m a fool.”

“What? Why?” Relief was coursing through Eliot’s body, relief tingling his fingers and toes, but his brain could barely process this. Darcy wanted their baby? He wasn’t the least bit upset?

Darcy laughed, and coughed. “At the very least, I hoped she was mine so that I might have reason to convince you to view me in a better light.”

“I was wrong before,” Eliot said quickly. “And I can’t express how sorry I am for how badly I thought of you. How badly I treated you. I should have told you as soon as I knew. I had considered not telling you, until that letter.”

Darcy shook his head. “You can’t imagine how many times I wondered if I should have thrown that letter away as soon as I’d written it. I was so angry, so hurt. I probably wasn’t kind in how I expressed myself. I hope you burned it.”

“No!” Eliot protested. “I would never do that. I have read it over and over. Sometimes, I wondered if it was the only piece of you I’d have left after everything was said and done.”

“It wouldn’t have been the only piece,” Darcy said, rubbing a hand over Eliot’s belly.

“You’re really not angry?” Eliot whispered. He scarcely dared believe this was anything but a dream.

Darcy wrapped his arms tightly around Eliot, tucking the omega’s head under his chin. “How could I be angry? So much of this situation was my own fault. You were just doing the best you could.”

Eliot sniffed into Darcy’s chest. “Are you determined to think the best of me? Because that’s a very rose colored view.”

“I’ll always think the best of you,” Darcy said, rubbing a hand up and down Eliot’s back. “What else would I think?”

Eliot couldn’t respond. With everything that had gone on between them, he wouldn’t have faulted Darcy for blaming him. But instead to praise him for how he handled things? It was too much. And to say that he would always think the best of Eliot? Eliot hadn’t thought Darcy was such a romantic. Not before. They wouldn’t always feel this happy. It wasn’t realistic. But he wouldn’t mind holding onto this moment for as long as he could. He just wanted to stay here in Darcy’s arms forever.

But his body didn’t exactly agree.

“I don’t want to push you away, Darcy,” Eliot said, and Darcy looked down at him, worry creeping across his face. “But I really have to pee.”

Darcy’s face cleared in a moment. “Go on. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

Eliot’s jaw dropped open. He wanted to kiss this man, this beautiful man with awful timing. “I’m not saying it back until I have more than two seconds to say it,” he growled, pulling away to rush for the bathroom.

Eliot glanced over his shoulder as he passed through his bedroom door, as if to make sure Darcy was actually still there. Darcy smiled and waved him away.

Alone, Eliot squeezed his arms around himself, his excitement and joy too large to contain. He loved Darcy. Darcy loved him. And their baby was going to have two fathers who knew her and wanted her. What more could he ask from life?