Chapter Text
Charles was hungry again.
He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t actually need to eat for like, survival purposes. In theory, he and Edwin are ghosts of some kind– immortal if nothing else. But he’s pregnant, and he’s hungry for the third time since breakfast, because even if he doesn’t strictly need to eat, the thing inside of him sure does.
That’s never going to stop sounding strange. Pregnant. It’s been five months, and he’s still not over it. Five months since he and Edwin had first mated. Since his first words as a siren. And five months since Crystal and Niko had barged into their little offshoot cavern with a small car’s worth of algae, and irish moss to build a nest big enough for three.
And that’s when Charles realized that the whole “Thank fuck I’m not a girl” thing, came way too soon, because Crystal had shown him a lot of things the day they met. Language, culture, pod structure... but sex ed hadn’t been very high on her to do list.
Niko explained to them afterward; it didn’t matter that he was a boy. Sirens, and mers all have the same parts. So when it comes to making a baby, all that really matters is intention. Tentatively running a hand over the curve of his stomach, now, Charles couldn’t help but think that neither of them had quite intended this.
Sitting there under his skin, like a lump in his belly, Charles felt something large, and round, roll around under his touch. The egg. His egg... Sometimes, if he pushed in on it too hard, it would squish, and he’d pull his hand away faster than from an iron burn, worried that it would burst inside of him. Pregnancy was terrifying. Miscarriage was somehow worse.
He couldn’t stomach it. As disconcerting as it was, he was carrying a little piece of Edwin. He and Edwin were going to have a baby together. Wonderful, wonderful Edwin, who’d held Charles when they slept together, brought back small jewels, and nice stones for their little love-nest. Who’d done the lion’s share of the hunting since Charles couldn’t anymore...
Charles’ stomach rumbled, and he groaned. Edwin was out hunting, now. Maybe he’d come back with some nice juicy cod, or crabs. Months underwater had given him some time to adjust to biting into prey, cracking open shellfish with his teeth in order to get at the tasty insides. Sometimes he’d wash it down with a bit of coral, or some seaweed. The other day, Edwin had surprised him with with some queenies, that had hit the fucking spot, and Charles had nearly cried right then and there.
Unfortunately, there were some cravings that Edwin couldn’t help him with; because Charles missed having chips with his fish. He missed the spaghetti from his favorite Italian place back home. He missed his mother’s curries, and dosa. And Edwin was a marvel, but he couldn’t conjure up a hydrothermal vent from nothing just so he could experience the pleasure of cooked food again, and Charles was sure that nothing he wanted would fare well underwater anyways.
Charles whined, lying back on their little makeshift bed; burying the back of his head into the nice soft algae that Niko had gathered for him. He contemplated nibbling at it, but ultimately decided that, as hungry as he was, the lightly wilted salad they’d been using as bedding wasn’t a particularly appealing snack.
The first batch had long since gone off, all those months ago, but Niko was determined to be prepared for when Charles was ready to lay. -The egg needs somewhere soft to rest,- She’d insisted. Charles, at least emotionally, didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
It’d been five months. Winter had come and gone, and the ocean was slowly starting to warm at the first signs of May. -The perfect time to have a baby!- Niko again. It didn’t feel perfect. Charles felt awful, having spent days on end lying in bed; constantly hungry, constantly nauseous, perfectly useless.
And on top of it all, he’d only just started getting used to this body, and then it started changing. His hips had widened a bit when he’d drowned; mostly muscle so he could swim better. But looking in the mirror now, they were noticeably larger. On the whole, he’d softened, and rounded out, quite a bit. Which was... conflicting. Because, on the one hand, Charles hated not being useful. He wanted more than anything to be out hunting with Edwin, pulling his own weight; taking care of him as much as he had for Charles.
On the other hand, it made cuddling a lot more comfortable. And when his bones ached, and his stomach churned, he was glad to have Edwin to curl up into. Glad to be hugged. Glad to be huggable. And it didn’t hurt that his new figure was making his preening instincts go absolutely crazy. ...maybe minus the massive baby bump.
Charles felt a cramp in his guts, and groaned. His stomach was the size of a small beach ball, and covered in silvery thin lines where the skin had grown too fast, in order to accommodate the egg. Crystal had given him a small bottle of snail slime lotion to help it heal, but the most it had done was make them fade slightly.
Their baby had certainly made its mark.
And now, five months had past, and Charles was due to lay any day now, and he was soft from months without proper exercise, and giving into cravings. He felt weak, and sluggish, and he was desperate for the thing to just come out already, but also wished that it would never come out, because childbirth was terrifying, and actually having to be a parent was moreso.
And wasn’t that a thought? Charles, in all likelihood, was never going to see his mother again. Their baby would grow up without ever meeting its grandmother. Would never live life the way Charles, and Edwin had, on land. It wouldn’t even be human! He wouldn’t get to share the food he loved so much, growing up, or his favorite bands, or sport. Niko and Crystal would get to teach it all about mermaid, and siren culture, but him?
Maybe he could convince Edwin to go on holiday to the Indian Ocean, and go people watching. Maybe there was a pod out there that they could talk to, and— ughrrh
His stomach cramped again. Why did being pregnant have to be so fucking painful? First the morning sickness, then the swelling in his tail, the stretching, and now the cramping? It was—
-Unnng,- Charles moaned. Honestly, he just wanted Edwin to be back already. He wanted to tuck into whatever he’d managed to bag during his hunt, and lie down. Go back to sleeping, with Edwin’s arms curled aroun— -Ugh!- The egg shifted inside of him, and Charles worried that he might throw up again. That was one thing that was somehow, decidedly, even worse underwater.
Charles squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of stabbing pains rolled through him. His stomach hurt. His back hurt. His tail hurt for fucks sake, and— ~squelch~
Something popped. For one, awful, terrible, horrifying moment, Charles was convinced that the egg had broken.
Then it shifted inside of him again, and he realized that instead, possibly the only thing in the world that could be just as terrifying was happening.
He was in labor.
He’d been having fucking contractions. And now the egg was ready to come out.
That didn’t mean he was, though.
Charles cried out for help, as another round of contractions wracked his body. He didn’t know what he was doing. This wasn’t even supposed to be something he was capable of doing!
-Edwin!- He called, notes straining. -Crystal! Niko!- He grit his teeth, and clenched his fists around handfuls of sand, as his gills worked overtime, trying to take in as much oxygen as possible. Crying wasn’t really possible underwater, but god was he trying. His song, pitched and keened with pain, and all the terror a teenage boy becoming a mother can express.
Sharp pains rolled through his abdomen, and down the length of his tail, as he called out again for someone to help.
A pink blur darted into the room, chittering and chattering. Niko squeaked, eyes wide, and became a proper tornado, racing here and there and everywhere, getting things ready— checking his tail for signs of the egg coming, clicking out sounds of encouragement at a mile a minute.
Crystal dedicated herself to holding Charles in place, so he wouldn’t hurt himself; one enormous hand stretching across his back, while he thrashed.
A few drowsy minutes would go by with Niko telling him how well he was doing, Crystal offering her pinky for him to squeeze, and then the pain would start up again and he’d nearly black out, trying to push the thing out of him.
And then he heard Edwin. His mate rushed to his side, catch of the day forgotten in the doorway. He sang, gorgeous voice low and quiet, just for them. He held him, and pet his hair, and sang his name over and over again.
Charles’ breathing slowed, and he concentrated. Niko checked his opening one more time, and told him to push.
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There’s an egg in their nest.
It’s not like any egg Charles has ever seen before; it’s fiery orange, and jelly-like, about the size of a bowling ball. But it’s undeniably an egg. Faintly, through its translucent membrane, Charles can make out the silhouette of a tiny baby siren inside, and when he touches his fingers to it, he can feel it pulsing with life— in time with the heartbeat of the ocean.