Chapter 10 The Baby
Aiden leaned in the doorway, shoulder braced against the frame, arms folded loosely across his chest.
He stayed there on purpose.
Thomas–his Tommy, his husband, his…finally–was sitting on the rug in the center of the room, legs folded awkwardly beneath him, a newborn tucked carefully into the crook of his arm, looking impossibly precious and breakable.
Aleksander Atticus Mulvaney slept through it all, small and warm and perfect, mouth slack in that way newborns had, as if the world was already too much effort.
He had Cricket’s nose and Lucas’s lips and the blue eyes all babies had at birth. Like Allister, he’d been born with a full head of hair currently hidden under his knitted hat. He was beautiful. He was perfect.
Thomas looked…undone.
Not in the frantic way he’d once been undone, sharp-edged and hyper-vigilant, calculating twelve steps ahead, ready to martyr himself before the world for the safety and security of his family.
This was different. This was soft. Open.
Almost boyish in the way he bent his head over the baby, murmuring nonsense under his breath, thumb stroking the tiny knit cap like he was memorizing the texture.
Aiden felt it in his chest, that ache that came when you loved something so deeply it scared you.
It wasn’t just Thomas and the new baby. The kids were everywhere.
Ara and Adi sat cross-legged directly in front of Thomas, identical down to the tilt of their heads, their dark hair pulled back in matching braids that August had done with military precision after their baths.
They wore matching Christmas pajamas similar to the ones all the adults wore each year, Christmas green with candy canes and presents. The same ones Thomas and Aiden wore.
At eight years old they already had the posture of scholars–straight-backed, attentive–but Ara clutched a doll missing one shoe and Adi’s socks didn’t match, both of them leaning forward with the intense seriousness of children trying very hard to be grown.
Every now and then one would reach out and smooth a finger over the baby’s cheek or hand, marveling at his softness.
Jagger and Jett were circling like sharks.
Jagger, seven, was crouched behind Thomas, trying to peek over his shoulder. Jett, six, huddled close to his brother like always, looking a little overwhelmed by the idea of a new family member.
“He’s so small,” he said.
“Mom says he’s fresh out of the oven,” Ara said.
Oscar and West were doing laps around the playroom with Theo, sporadically interested in their newest cousin but only when they grew bored of whatever toy they played with.
They were three. Babies didn’t mean much to them.
They found them boring. But now the three were back, hovering over him, in the baby’s space.
“Tha’s baby,” Oscar said, pushing one spit-covered finger against the baby’s cheek, making his cheek twitch.
“Careful,” Thomas said softly. “Remember we have to be gentle. He’s only a few hours old.”
Allister stayed right where he was, curled at Thomas’s knee, one small hand gripping the fabric of Thomas’s pants like an anchor.
His other thumb hovered near his mouth, uncertain.
His eyes were too serious for his age, already watching the baby like he was trying to solve a puzzle nobody had asked him to.
He was hyper-fixated on the apple-shaped strawberry on his brother’s temple.
The one he’d told them all would be there.
Apple. There was no doubt that was what they’d call him.
It just felt right. He had full rosy cheeks and wide eyes and his little apple birthmark.
Aiden couldn’t quite wrap his head around Allister seeing the future.
Getting impressions off of objects made sense to him, energy was neither created nor destroyed.
The ability to manipulate or even telegraph that energy made sense.
But for Allister to know the future relied on Aiden understanding a great deal of science dealing with things like quantum physics and multiple-world theories.
It was all just too great a concept for Aiden to spend any amount of time contemplating.
But he couldn’t argue that the birthmark was there.
He couldn’t argue that the name Allister had revealed suited the baby to a T.
How would a four year old think to name a baby Aleksander, complete with that spelling?
And giving him Atticus as a middle name?
An older child–a teen maybe–might have the forethought to give him Atticus as a middle name to thank him for getting Cricket through the birth, but… a four year old?
Theo sat a little apart, as he always did.
Not withdrawn. Just… separate. Content to observe. He leaned against a low shelf with a stuffed dinosaur balanced on his knee, blue eyes flicking between Thomas and the baby, taking it all in silently.
Aiden watched all of it.
Watched Thomas breathe.
Watched him exist like this, surrounded by children who loved him, trusted him, adored him in a way that had nothing to do with fear or awe or obligation.
God, he’d wanted this for him for so long.
“All right,” Thomas said softly, his voice pitched low and calm, like he was addressing a room full of skittish animals instead of children. “You all know what you have to do. Right?”
“Protect him,” Ara and Adi said at the same time, gaze locked on the baby’s sleeping form.
“Teach him the code,” Jagger said.
“You guys are all so smart,” Thomas said, beaming. “That’s right. You’re going to keep him safe and happy and make him feel loved and–when he’s old enough–you’ll help teach him the code.”
Ara’s nose wrinkled. “He’s… very small,” she marveled again.
“He’s supposed to be,” Thomas said with a faint smile.
Adi leaned closer. “Do you think he’ll be smarter than us?”
Thomas chuckled softly. “We won’t know that for a while. But intelligence isn’t everything. Each of you has their own strength and you’re all very smart, very gifted. Perfect.”
Jagger popped up on Thomas’s other side. “Can he fight?”
“No,” Thomas said, his amusement obvious.
Jagger frowned. “Why not?”
“Because he’s three hours old.”
“Uncle Adam and Uncle Avi are gonna be bummed,” Jett said. “They said they were excited to have another contender for the Friday Night Fights.”
Thomas snorted. “They’ll get over it.”
“Okay. But eventually,” Jagger said. “Right?”
Thomas huffed a quiet laugh. “We’ll see.”
Jett finally lost the battle with his self-control. “Can I hold him?”
Aiden watched Thomas’s spine go a fraction straighter, not tense, exactly, but aware.
“We’re going to wait on that,” Thomas said gently. “He’s very new.”
“I held Theo when he was new,” Jett protested.
“You were supervised,” Thomas said.
“I am always supervised,” Jett said indignantly.
“That’s because we’re a menace,” Jagger added proudly, clearly repeating something one of the adults had told him.
Oscar tugged on West’s sleeve. “He’s a potato.”
West nodded solemnly. “A warm ‘tato.”
Thomas smiled down at Aleksander. “He does look a little potato-like.”
Allister shifted, his grip tightening. “He’s gonna be loud.”
Thomas glanced down. “He won’t always be.”
Allister’s brows knit together. “He’ll cry when it’s dark. Like me.”
Thomas’s face softened.
Aiden felt the shift immediately, the way attention sharpened, the room subtly reorienting around Allister like gravity had changed.
Thomas didn’t react outwardly. He never did with Allister. He stayed calm, grounded. “Right now, he cries because he’s hungry,” he said. “And because everything is new.”
Allister shook his head. “No. He cries because he remembers.”
Silence fell like snow.
Aiden watched Thomas carefully then, watched the calculation, the acceptance, the love, all flicker across his face in the space of a breath.
Thomas didn’t question it. He never dismissed Allister.
“That’s okay,” Thomas said. “We’ll help him.”
Allister leaned into him, reassured. Thomas used his free arm to hug him against him briefly.
Theo chose that moment to scoot closer, silent as a shadow. He reached out, not toward the baby, but toward Thomas’s sleeve, fingers curling there briefly before retreating. Thomas glanced up, caught his eye, and smiled. Just for him.
Theo smiled back. Small. Private.
Aiden swallowed.
He hadn’t known Thomas when he was young. Hadn’t seen the years where love had been transactional, conditional, earned through power and control. But he’d learned enough to know this–this room, this chaos, this softness–was everything Thomas had never been allowed to want.
And now it was his.
Thomas shifted the baby slightly, careful, practiced. “You can all say hello,” he said. “One at a time.”
Ara spoke first, voice solemn. “Hello, Aleksander. I’m your sister.”
Adi leaned in. “We’re very smart. You’ll like us.”
Jagger grinned. “I’ll teach you how to break stuff.”
Jett nodded. “I’ll show you where Grandpa hides the good snacks.”
Thomas snorted.
Oscar waved. “Hi, Baby ‘Lek-san-er.”
West added, “We share toys.”
Allister pressed his forehead briefly to Aleksander’s blanket. “I’ll protect you.”
Theo said nothing. He just sat, watching, absorbing, like he always did.
Aiden felt his throat tighten.
Thomas lifted his gaze then, finally noticing Aiden in the doorway. Their eyes met.
The look Thomas gave him–open, radiant, full of a happiness that didn’t ask permission–nearly took Aiden to his knees.
This, Aiden thought.
This is what it was all for.