Chapter Fifteen
Dray
He’d not lifted a finger in days. Tripp’s mom, Joyce, had fawned over him incessantly since coming to his apartment. He’d had juice and smoothies brought to him, their own personal doctor over to inspect his healing. Embarrassing? Yes. But it was sweet.
She cleaned and cooked for them while Ian, Tripp’s father, mostly sat on the couch using any excuse to hold the egg on his chest. Rick had threatened to fight him for egg time until Dray reminded him that had been someplace intimate not too long ago.
So, when Dray woke that morning, his jaw popping with a yawn, he perked up as something wriggled against his chest.
“Tripp!” Dray sat up and swatted around, finding the bed empty.
“He’s gone into work. What’s up?” Joyce stuck her head in the bedroom, face shielded.
“I’m wearing pants this time, Mom.” Dray held up the egg, and she squealed, getting her phone out to call while Dray got the camera ready.
“And I’ll call Lowe, too, dear. Focus on your hatch.
” Joyce wandered off, urging Tripp to come home.
Lowe had been by a few times to see the egg and fawned over how lovely and smoothly shaped it was.
He swore Dray’s egg was lumpy and gravel-rough on purpose to spite him.
Back in those days, they’d had superstitions about drawing on the eggs, to write blessings out on it, things they hoped for the future.
They knew better in the present, but Lowe blamed all Dray’s tattoos on the tradition.
Dray moved as little as possible, keeping the egg warm against him as it struggled. He didn’t want it to hatch until Tripp got home.
So, twelve minutes later, when Tripp came whipping into the apartment, panting hard, they’d correctly assumed he’d run the half mile from work to get there sooner, and Dray scooted over.
Together, they stroked the egg, mimicking the natural movement of siblings, and after a few fierce struggling motions, the egg split and a curled, pink hand swatted out.
They rushed to help the egg pry open. Joyce brought a towel, and Ian sat in the doorway, a stupid grin on his face, leaving only to let Lowe in when he arrived.
Their little one emerged with a perfectly rounded little head, a cute button nose, Cupid’s bow lips, and a smattering of dark, thick hair. He gasped for air, blowing bubbles in albumin that they wiped away for the tiniest little whimpers of cries.
Tripp had his shirt off first, struggling to get the wet babe against his chest for warmth as Dray wiped him down.
He didn’t say a word, but Tripp knew what he was looking for.
And it didn’t take long. A soft look glimmered in his eyes as he stared at the little one.
Whatever he saw, Joyce must have seen, too.
“Tripp?” Dray glanced up, lips half-cocked.
“Bet they have eyes like yours.” Tripp reached out to stroke over Dray’s cheek. “So pretty. Like the blackest ink.”
Dray shook his head. “He has your eyes.”
Ian pumped his fist in the doorway as Joyce gave him a hiss to shush.
“Suppose you two will have to try again for some indigos.” Joyce laughed, and Tripp gave her an ugly look. More children would be a long way off. But Dray seemed a little nostalgic.
“Suppose we’ll just have to try again.” Dray took their little one and cradled him close. “He’s rattlesnake, so you get to pick the name, dear.”
Tripp had plenty of them in mind, but only one stood out. A dragon that had given him a token to a silly tattoo vending machine. “Bosco.”
Dray raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“Yep. He brought me back to you. He sold us our home.” Tripp stroked their little one’s head.
Dray’s phone rang with Kirk’s ringtone, and Dray glanced at it. “Dragon magic is a bitch.”
Tripp raised a brow.
“Hey, you name that kid after Bosco?” Kirk’s gruff voice grumbled on the other end.
“Tripp did, yeah.” Dray snickered.
“We’re on our way. You don’t name a kid after a dragon less you expect him to watch over the little fucker. Welcome to the world, little Boss.” Kirk hung up. Their apartment was about to get really full.
And their little one had the world at his fingertips, a family full of venom and fangs, and a dragon uncle that would guard him until he breathed no more.
“Not too shabby for a one-drink-stand in a bathroom stall, eh?” Rick chuckled in the doorway, and Dray’s face went scarlet while Joyce stared disappointed daggers at him.
“Do what?”
“Oops…” Rick cleared his throat. “It was a joke!”
She huffed and took the baby from Tripp. “You two are nasty! Come on, little Bosco. Let’s go with Nanna Joyce to go snuggle under a heating blanket while your daddies think about what they did.”
She stormed off, and everyone else left them alone with a sticky eggshell and their shame.
“Do I get to hold my kid?” Dray sat there, eyes wide.
“I suppose once everyone has their turn.” Tripp laughed. They had many more years ahead of them of happiness, firsts and if the hungry look on Dray’s face said anything as he stared at the indigo snake tattoo on Tripp’s chest, it was going to have a lot more tattoos to come.