“You should sit down,” Dante said just before the next woodworking class. “Don’t want you to hurt your leg more.”

Finn frowned, tucking his bad leg away. “I’m fine, Dante.”

“You stand a lot during these classes,” Dante said, sweeping the workshop with a wide broom. “And you’ve already hurt your leg twice.”

Finn sighed. He had. First the sprained ankle, then the pulled tendons on Moon Night. A few days had passed since then; with the massages Dante gave him twice a day, the ache in his muscles had begun to ease.

Dante set the broom down, stopping in front of Finn. Then he cupped Finn’s jaw, meeting his eyes. Finn’s breath snagged.

In his human form, Dante always looked perfect, with his strong jaw, his steady gaze, his full lips. His golden eyes raked over Finn’s face, then down his chest, to his belly. Dante slipped his hand under Finn’s shirt, touching the baby bump.

At four weeks, Finn was a third through the pregnancy. They had to see Lucy soon—Finn wasn’t sure he wanted to. Didn’t want to meet the omega who had sold his mother the wolfsbane. Would Lucy even help with birthing his pups?

“I should get you a health potion,” Dante murmured, rubbing his thumb over Finn’s navel. “Maybe Old Bill knows where I can buy some.”

Finn grimaced. “I don’t know if we have enough money for it.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “If we don’t, I’ll go out and find more jobs. Sell more things at the market. The pups are important.”

Dante was already working more than Finn was. Thrice a week, Dante headed out to the city, cleaning the parks, doing furniture repairs, bussing dishes. He’d come home smelling like soap or wood polish, and he’d work with Finn in the workshop late into the night.

With Finn’s students dropping out and his Market Day patrons ignoring him, Finn wasn’t sure how long this would last, both of them staying in the canyon. He’d been tweaking his website, sending Dante out with flyers to try and recruit more students from the city. It was slow-going.

Dante knelt at Finn’s feet, lifting Finn’s shirt to expose his blue-lined belly. Finn squawked.

“Class is in ten minutes,” he said, glancing at the open shop door. The students weren’t here yet, but they would be soon.

“I’m not gonna do anything indecent,” Dante murmured, pressing kisses to Finn’s abdomen. “Just saying hi to the pups.”

“In the middle of the workshop?” Finn blushed.

It was one thing for Dante to talk to their pups in the privacy of their bedroom. But it was something else entirely, Dante doing this where the students and their parents could walk in on them. And Finn’s belly didn’t look the best, either, with the splotchy red scars scattered across his skin.

“Family is important,” Dante said, dragging his lips across Finn’s skin. “Just wanted them to know they’ll always be welcome in our home.”

Finn’s chest tightened; he knew which part of Dante’s past that came from. “We don’t even know how many there are. Maybe we’ll just have one pup.”

“He or she or they, then,” Dante said, meeting Finn’s eyes over his belly. He kissed along the blue lines, his gaze soft. “Love you all.”

Finn stroked Dante’s hair, his heart full. Dante hadn’t been certain about being a father, and yet here he was, loving their pups all the same.

I love you, Finn thought, a lump forming in his throat. I’m so glad I found you again.

Dante met his gaze, pressing a slow kiss to Finn’s belly. Mine.

Finn melted. He wanted to climb into Dante’s lap, press up against his alpha, skin to skin.

A car pulled up in the driveway; feet pattered through the garden. Finn sighed, leaning away from his mate. “That’s enough for now.”

Dante grinned. “More later.”

He slid his arm around Finn’s waist, guiding Finn to the high stool he always sat in. Finn frowned. “I can walk, you know.”

“You’re pregnant,” Dante said, his eyes gleaming.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do anything.”

“Let me do them for you,” Dante said.

“Including teaching the class?”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “I would. Then you can sit and rest your leg.”

Sarah barreled through the doorway before Finn could answer. “I’m here!” she cried, her satchel bouncing against her back. “Morning, Mr. Finn, Mr. Dante!”

“Morning, Sarah,” Finn said, smiling. He looked up when Sarah’s parents stopped by the door. “We’ll be starting on a set of drawers today,” Finn told them. “It’ll be done next week!”

Sarah’s parents waved and smiled, and headed off. Dante looked thoughtfully at them.

What if you offered classes for couples, too? Dante asked. Then you might get students like Sarah’s parents. Drop the price a little. Teach them to build furniture for their homes.

Finn mulled on that idea, brightening. We could do that. I’d need an extra pair of hands, though.

Dante pointed at himself. It could work.

“Can I start on my drawers first?” Sarah asked, kicking her legs. She was non-magic, chubby with red curls, a little younger than the rest of the class. Finn knew he wasn’t supposed to pick favorites, but Sarah always brightened his day.

“Sure thing,” Finn said, smiling.

“Let me get the wood,” Dante said. “You stay there.”

Finn rolled his eyes, but stayed put.

The rest of the students trickled in. Where there used to be twenty students in the Saplings class, there were now eleven. The remaining students had looked around, but none questioned where their classmates had gone. Finn wasn’t about to explain why.

The students sat around three short workbenches next to Finn.

You stay put there and do the demo, Dante said in Finn’s mind. I’ll handle the kids on the far side.

Finn couldn’t help grinning. In the few weeks since he returned, Dante had carved himself a permanent place in Finn’s life. He helped during Finn’s classes, he chatted with the non-magic parents who stopped by to pick up their kids.

Maybe you’ve graduated, Finn thought. You aren’t a student if you’re capable of teaching the children yourself.

I’ll always have more to learn from you, Dante answered, placing a set of prepped wooden boards in front of Finn for the demo.

You’re keen on being my student? Finn asked. I thought you didn’t want to before.

Dante smirked. You like when I fuck you as your student.

Finn’s cheeks burned. He couldn’t deny that.

He cleared his throat, meeting his students’ eager eyes. “We’ll be making wooden drawer sets today,” Finn said, ignoring Dante’s mischievous grin. “First, we’ll start with gluing the frame together.”

Because this was the Saplings class, they didn’t expect the students to perform any sawing—all the kids had to do was slide the tongued edge of the boards into the grooves of the adjacent material. The night before, Finn and Dante had worked together at the table saw, prepping all the materials they’d be using today.

With the students watching, Finn squeezed glue along the grooves, painted it into an even coat, before slotting the matching boards into the frame.

“Do this for all four sides of the frame,” Finn said. “Part 4 goes on the bottom—look for the number on the bottom right of the board.”

Dante began to distribute the materials. The students murmured amongst themselves, wooden boards banging as they got down to work.

“I’m sure your drawers will all turn out perfectly,” Finn said, leaning back in his high stool. “We’ll help you polish them up, and they’ll be all pretty when you take them home next week.”

“Doesn’t have to be pretty,” Dante said, giving Finn a pointed look. “It’s fine if yours isn’t perfect. As long as it works.”

Somehow, Finn got the feeling Dante wasn’t talking about the drawers.

Your leg, too, Dante said in Finn’s mind.

After the sprain and the tripping... Finn didn’t want to touch his leg. It kept failing him. It looked terrible, with all those mottled scars. He wasn’t even sure why Dante kissed his scars every night.

Because they’re part of you, Dante said. Because I love all of you.

Well, Finn didn’t love all of himself. Most parts didn’t seem worth loving.

Dante narrowed his eyes.

It was when Dante had started the kids on gluing their drawers together, that Sarah asked, “Is Mr. Dante your husband, Mr. Finn?”

Some of the other students looked up, curious.

Finn blushed. He and Dante weren’t married on paper, but an alpha-omega bond was legally recognized. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

Dante’s pride swelled through Finn’s chest. Mine, Dante growled.

“But you aren’t wearing rings,” Sarah said.

Finn looked down at his hands. Cringed a little, remembering the carved ring Dante had made for him years back, that Finn had thrown into the sea. I shouldn’t have done that.

Who knew where that ring had gone? Maybe the waves had taken it, and smashed it against the rocks.

“I’ll make him one,” Dante said. “You wanna see it when it’s done?”

“Yes!” Sarah bounced in her seat.

“I haven’t even said yes, Dante.” Finn couldn’t help his fond smile.

Dante set together a couple boards for Jimmy. Then, with the entire class watching, he strode over to Finn’s stool. Knelt, taking Finn’s hand in his own.

Finn’s heart stopped. “I didn’t mean for you to do this,” he murmured.

At his feet, Dante smiled. And Finn fell in love, all over again.

“There’s someone I want to take as my husband,” Dante said. “The same man who will bear my ring, and my pups. Finn of the Topanga Wolves, will you be mine?”

It shouldn’t have the effect it did. Dante had already imprinted on Finn. They were teaching a class of children together, none from the pack. But Finn felt the flicker of hope in Dante’s chest, the uncertainty, as though Finn might even say no.

“Yes,” Finn breathed. “I’ll be your husband. I’ll bear your ring, and your pups.”

Dante broke into a blinding smile.

“Now kiss,” Sarah cried.

“Gods, we’re in the middle of a class,” Finn said.

Dante stood, his eyes dark and intent, fixed on Finn. For a moment, Finn thought Dante might pull away, return to teaching.

Then Dante slipped his fingers against Finn’s nape, pulled him close, and kissed him softly on the lips.

The children cheered.

“Mine,” Dante whispered against Finn’s mouth, his breath hot. “My husband.”

That sent a shiver down Finn’s spine. “Yours.”

Dante dragged their lips together, his mouth parting. Finn thought he might tangle their tongues; that would be too lewd right now.

But Dante pulled away, his eyes glittering. Then he swiped at them with the back of his hand, and Finn stared. You’re... you’re crying?

I’m not. But Dante turned away, blinking hard.

Finn held his breath, staring as Dante headed back to the students. And now he felt like crying, too, thinking about the way Dante had choked up like that.

Finn limped over to the table, where Dante had crouched beside Sarah.

“It’s like my teachers at school,” Sarah whispered loudly, looking at them both. “Mr. Ko and Ms. Tey. They’re getting married this year!”

“That’s great,” Finn said.

“But I have a question,” Sarah said, looking at Finn. “See, Mr. Ko’s big. Like this. And Ms. Tey’s tiny. Kind of like you both. So... how do you fit?”

She took a large block of wood, then a thinner block, and mashed them together.

“We fit,” Dante said flatly.

“But what if your penis is too big?”

Finn stared.

The fuck? Dante said in his mind.

“Um,” Finn said. How did you even answer a question like that? To a ten-year-old? “Uh. It’s not too big.”

Sarah looked at them in horror. “What if it’s too small?”

Before Dante could answer, Finn said, “It’s just right.”

“Oh,” Sarah said, cheering up. “That’s good.”

It’s not too small, Dante muttered.

Doesn’t mean you go shouting it to the class, Finn told him. Dante cracked a grin.

With her questions answered, Sarah returned to gluing her wooden boards, humming to herself.

Through the rest of the lesson, Finn watched as Dante knelt by the twelve-year-olds, holding the plywood boards while they painted glue across the exposed joints. He adjusted the boards so they glued up nicely, correcting Sarah’s grip on the paintbrush so the gluing went easier.

Dante was so good with the kids, and Finn didn’t want to drag his gaze away.

Despite Dante’s worries about his father’s influence, Finn knew that his alpha would make a great dad himself. Dante would be gentle with their pups, he’d teach them with all the kindness in the world.

When the frames were done, they took the children through assembling the drawers, hammering the boards into place with wooden mallets, and gluing wooden knobs to the drawer faces.

“Now, write your names on the frames, and I’ll set them here to dry. When you come back next week, you’ll get to paint your drawers any color you want,” Finn said.

“Even lime green,” Dante said cheekily. Finn shook his head, smiling. Dante knew he wasn’t fond of that particular shade.

“I want mine to be green,” Jimmy said, throwing his hands in the air.

“Then green it is,” Finn told him.

The children wrote their names on the drawers. As the parents arrived to pick them up, Finn and Dante grabbed the shorter clamps from the racks, securing the glued joints on each project.

They worked in silence for ten minutes, the rest of the students leaving in ones and twos with their parents.

“These came apart,” Sarah said from the other side of the workshop.

Finn turned to find her with a metal bar clamp in her hands, screwing the gleaming knob onto the steel backbone. He yelped. “Sarah, stop.”

Sarah looked up just as she twisted the knob again. The F-shaped clamp shuddered; the magic in its metal parts had interacted, melding together to give the clamp life.

She dropped the clamp and stepped back, her eyes wide. “Oops. I forgot.”

The clamp leaped onto its single foot, arching its steel backbone. Then it clacked its plastic jaws, turning to scrutinize Sarah.