Baby’s House Finn
Baby’s House: Finn
“Room two and three,” Dennie tells him as he takes a moment to log two requests for ultrasounds at the station in his makeshift Andrology clinic. “And then you’re done for the day.” His friend hesitates before asking, “Is everything okay? You’ve been antsy today.”
The nurse had been Finn’s first choice for managing the new Andrology Clinic. Not just because he was experienced and professional, or because he handled his fellow staff with an iron fist wrapped in a silk glove.
No, Finn had begged and pleaded with Dennie because he couldn’t think of anyone else he wanted in his corner as he embarked on this epic new journey in medicine.
He was a joy to work with and had some of the best instincts about patients Finn had ever seen.
Even when those instincts are sometimes extended to Finn.
“I’m sorry,” Finn sighs, his voice heavy with something he can’t quite name.
“I’m okay, just…I don’t know what’s up. I’m just off, you know?
” He fidgets with the hem of his (Nix’s) white sweater, neatly paired with his khakis.
It isn’t just the anxiety or the fatigue, though both are lingering in the background.
Nor is it the persistent, low-grade headache that pain meds haven’t touched in the past twenty-four hours.
Nix had been restless all week, plagued by body aches and insomnia, and they’d all unofficially taken turns keeping him company.
Last night, it had been Finn’s turn. He’d stayed up with his uncomfortable mate, watching movies until sunrise, before finally leaving Nix sleeping on the couch to make it to his weekly office hours.
So, it’s not agitation as much as it’s anticipation of something Finn couldn’t put his finger on. Nix isn’t due for another three weeks, and Were babies rarely come early. Leo had already been bragging about having two Leo babies, possibly sharing his August birthday.
Given how small Nix was, Finn feared he was right, much to Nix’s chagrin. Already bigger than was comfortable for his compact frame, and with the official medical restrictions around penetrative sexual activity, he was understandably irritable.
Growing tiny Weres is hard work.
With thoughts of Nix (as they often are) at the front of his mind, he thinks about taking a moment in his office. “Anything urgent in two or three?” He nods toward the closed exam room doors.
“No, Rory Carlisle is here for his twenty-week check, but I’ve done the preliminaries, and he’s on track. And Tommy Donnovan had a positive pregnancy test last week. Wants to be sure. I’ve sent the urine to the lab for a triple-check, but the dipstick says, ‘hell yeah.’”
“You’re my favorite,” Finn says, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to take five, okay? Be right back.”
Heading into his office, he perches on the corner of his new desk, still just holding the phone.
Ugh. He hates giving in to the anxiety-driven urge to check on Nix via the microchip.
He hates being at the mercy of this device, especially when he knows Nix dislikes the chip and that he only allows it for Finn’s peace of mind.
Still, he has patients waiting, and in a month, Gideon will suck the chip out, and Finn can stop worrying about his pregnant mate. And start worrying about his daughters’ health instead. Dammit.
The app is there when he unlocks the phone, because this isn’t the first time he’s checked it this morning.
But this time, Nix’s entire physiology is lit up like a Christmas tree.
It’s not what he’d expected, so he can’t be blamed entirely for standing there holding his phone and staring for Goddess knows how long, cataloging the pain centers fluctuating in waves on the screen.
“Holy shit,” Finn mutters before dialing Gideon, who is on very, very unofficial Nix watch today. It rings and rings, but when Gideon doesn’t pick it up, Finn tries Jay instead. Surely the pack alpha would be the first person to call if there was an emergency.
“Finn?” Jay answers, but his voice fades out before coming back stronger than ever. “Rowan! Just get in the car!” he yells, as the wind buffets the phone through what sounds like an open car window.
“Jay, where are you?” Finn asks, his voice tight as he grabs his bag and steps into the hallway.
Dennie is on the phone nearby, and Finn briefly waves the universal I’ll call you later gesture before pushing open the glass door of the clinic.
He strides purposefully toward his car, weaving around staff and patients in the corridors.
Taking the ER exit instead of the staff entrance two floors up—because running is frowned upon indoors—he bursts outside, where the rules no longer apply, and breaks into a sprint.
“Chasing Rowan in my fucking SUV.”
“What?” The doors of the Land Rover click open, and seconds later, he’s reversing in a move that would make Rowan proud. He fastens his seat belt as he hits the road around Lupine Park toward home at twenty kilometers over the speed limit.
“We were running, yeah? And then we had stopped for a bit of—well, whatever, but then he shifted back and was gone. Shit, I have no idea what happened. But when I caught up, he wasn’t at the car.
He’s currently running toward home. I don’t know what I did, but I think I’m having a heart attack on top of it.
” He sounds angry and confused, his voice cracking at the end. “He’s been weird all week.”
Rowan had been weird all week. Or rather, weirder. He’d spent almost seven days as the Wolf. Pacing and guarding the house and—most especially—Nix, who had finally had enough this morning. He’d begged Gideon to do something (out of earshot) about both Rowan and Jay.
Because while Rowan had an excuse for growling and snapping like an animal at the rest of them, Jay did not. And boy, had their leader been more than just growly; he’d epitomized the textbook description of a territorial enigma for the past few days.
Just yesterday, Finn had convinced the only two non-coffee drinkers in the house to join him for a mini-date at their favorite café.
Common Grounds had been bursting with weekend traffic, the scents of baking and coffee lingering in the air.
Jay had gone to the counter to get Nix another cinnamon bun when Arlo and his mate Liam came in with their daughter Piper.
Nix had been overjoyed to see them, but most especially the baby, whom he saw regularly on his not-so-secret trips into Sentinel’s headquarters.
Liam was a giant of a man, a quiet and kind alpha who generally eschewed public places, but who was still a regular visitor at the compound for BBQs and baseball games. He could certainly be considered a family friend by anyone’s measure.
But Jay had taken one look at Nix, smiling up at Liam and chatting softly about his health, and lost his damn mind. A growl ripped through him, low and menacing, as waves of burning pine flooded the café in aggressive bursts.
The beta barista behind the counter dropped to his knees immediately, followed by two older betas in line who went down just as fast, instinctively submitting to the display of dominance. Even Finn had felt his body tense, his throat baring instinctively in response to Jay’s power.
Arlo, however, had only rolled his eyes, entirely unimpressed. He reclaimed Piper with practiced ease and pulled Liam back toward the door. He glanced back just long enough to whisper, “Good luck. Call me, Nix,” before towing his mate and child out of the café with a rueful and understanding smile.
To say Nix was pissed off would be the understatement of the year. He’d apologized to the angry manager, who had bravely stepped in front of his employee, before grabbing his bag and leaving the café without a backward glance at either of them.
When Jay had finally let the red haze clear, he’d been mortified. He’d slapped down his credit card, purchased a round of coffee for the entire busy café, and tipped a week’s worth of wages for the traumatized barista.
And if the whole thing hadn’t been bad enough, Finn had seen at least three phones out recording the whole damn thing.
Margot had called to give Jay a blast for the PR social media nightmare before they finally found Nix eating ice cream on a bench outside the Ulta.
So yeah, Rowan hasn’t been the only one acting weird all week.
But now, at least Finn knows why.
Taking the final turn toward the compound, Finn pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get his head back in the game, when all he’s thinking about is Nix. “I need you to pull over for a minute.”
“What? No. It’s everything I can do to keep him in sight as it is. Why do I need to pull over?” Jay asks sharply, before pausing. “Why. Do. I. Need. To. Pull. Over,” he growls, when Finn’s tone finally penetrates his drive to catch Rowan.
Focused as he is for a moment to swerve around a cyclist, Finn doesn’t answer. At least the clicking of the turn signal in the background indicates that Jay is taking him seriously.
“I’m in a parking lot, now tell me. What the fuck is going on? Ow…Fuck. I think I’m having a heart attack for fucking real, shit.”
“Nix is in labor, and I didn’t want you to crash the car.” It’s blunt, and yes, he could have sugar-coated the announcement a little, but he doesn’t have the patience or the time. “Get home and don’t worry about Rowan. He knew before we did.”
“Labor? Now? But he’s got three more weeks at least. You said he’d be late,” Jay accuses. The Rover’s speakers broadcast something rhythmically hitting Jay’s steering wheel before Jay speaks again. “He called you first?”
“Fuck no,” Finn scoffs as his phone plays, Tom Jones’ What’s Up Pussycat. “Shit, that’s Gideon finally. I’ll see you at home.”
Gideon’s call drops and then starts up again immediately.
Finn doesn’t give him the chance to speak before he says, “I’m turning on our street now.
And I’ll be hearing apologies later for all the shit I took from everyone about the microchip, no later than tomorrow morning.
” It’s quiet on the other end, and Finn would be worried if he couldn’t still see Nix’s biometrics lit up on his phone. “Is he okay?”
“Just get here.”
The gate is wide open when Finn pulls through and into the drive. Only Gideon’s car is in its usual spot, and the front door is wide open with Tsuki standing watch. “Good girl. Is he okay?”
The dog just huffs and leads the way inside. He thinks she even shuts the door with her nose before disappearing up the stairs toward Nix’s room.
Gideon is standing over a giant bowl of steaming water in the kitchen when Finn toes his shoes off.
There are craft supplies on the counter and a melting bag of ice.
“This is hardly the time for a facial.” He realizes what he’s said when Gideon raises an eyebrow.
“Ha, ha. No time for that either. How is he?”
“I have no idea. He won’t let me in.”
“You haven’t seen him? Shit. What did he say?”
“That he’s ‘not ready’ and that he only ‘needs Luca.’ I’m supposed to keep the rest of the pack out.”
Well, shit. That’s going to last all of ten minutes, by Finn’s calculation, when Jay arrives and Rowan breaks down the door. “Shit.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But Luca thinks he’ll let you in when you get here. Why won’t he let me–us in?”
That’s a good question. Carlos hadn’t mentioned anything about laboring alone, nor had any of the three Omegan births Finn had attended since Arlo’s last fall. Even Arlo had his whole pack present. But Nix is nothing if not unique, even for an omega.
“I don’t know. But he’s wanted to do this at home like omegas have done for millennia. Can you give me a hand to get the kit out?”
Together, they roll in the cart and bins they had stored in the library.
Finn had them packed full of supplies for Nix and the babies since weeks after they’d returned from Florida, when Nix had approached him about a home birth.
Items like baby blankets scented by the pack, a scale, medical supplies, and the smallest diapers Finn had ever seen.
Nix had insisted Leo order the smallest size when he’d placed his order last month.
An omen of a premature birth if there ever was one.
Gideon is back to staring into the steaming water again, like he’s Frodo or Galadriel and he’s watching for a vision of the future.
He supposes it’s better than a panicked Gideon, because there is no doubt in Finn’s mind that there will be no fewer than three enigmas who will be doing that enough for all of them.
It might be best if he can make his caregiving mate useful. “Could you make the infant formula? The instructions are on the container. It’s ready-made for now, I think, but the bottles will need–”
“Sterilizing. I know this part, Dr. Merritt. Just…you get on with your business and leave the rest to me.” He shakes off his bemused stupor and starts clearing the hodge-podge of stuff on the counter.
Finn finally notices there are stacks of premade meals on the counter, and at least fifteen dozen muffins in rows on the breakfast bar.
Maybe Rowan and Jay aren’t the only ones who knew before they really knew.
With an armload of meals ready to go into the deep freeze in the pantry, Gideon asks, “Shit, has anyone called Jay, or Gray and Leo?”
“Jay and Rowan-wolf are coming in hot. You should try Gray and Leo. And for Goddess’ sake, don’t get them worked up. I agree with Nix, maybe we should keep them out for the time–”
Finn! echoes through Finn’s head. Flinching, and without a second thought, Finn heads off at a run, bin of medical supplies in his arms.