Work Text:
POV: Porsche
Porsche sat on the edge of the bathtub, towel wrapped around his waist, the envelope still damp in his hands. The lab had sent the results an hour ago, but he knew what they said before even opening it.
Negative. Again.
Nothing. No hormonal changes, no signs of ovulation, no hint of a potential pregnancy.
Just emptiness.
Again.
The water had gone cold, steam long disappeared, but Porsche hadn’t moved. The envelope rested on his knees, the paper crumpled in his tense grip.
Kinn arrived not long after, still in his work clothes, blazer draped over his arm, tie loose around his neck.
— "Did the results come in?" he asked, carefully.
Porsche didn’t respond at first. He only looked up—and that was enough. Kinn understood.
— "Ah..." Kinn exhaled. "It’s okay. Maybe next month—"
— "It won’t be next month," Porsche cut him off, voice hoarse, sharp. "It wasn’t last month. Or the month before that. Or the one before that."
Kinn knelt in front of him, taking his hands.
— "Don’t talk like that."
— "I hid what I was for half my life, Kinn. I’ve been on suppressors since I was fifteen. Of course my body’s not going to cooperate now."
— "It’s not your fault."
— "It is."
— "Porsche..."
— "You want a kid. You’ve always wanted one. And I—" Porsche shook his head, eyes burning. "I can’t give you that."
Kinn gripped his hands tighter. — "Do you think I’m with you because of that?"
— "No." Porsche whispered. "But I see it. I see your face every time the test comes back negative. You try to hide it, Kinn, but I know."
Kinn looked away, jaw clenched.
And then Porsche said it.
The one thing he shouldn’t have.
— "You… you can mate with another omega, if you want. Just for the child. I won’t... I won’t stop you."
Kinn froze.
The silence was instant. Heavy. Crushing. Porsche wanted the running water to fill it, to drown it out.
But it didn’t.
Kinn stood slowly. His eyes weren’t full of shock.
They were full of heartbreak.
— "How could you say that?"
— "I was just trying—"
— "To offer me another omega? Like that would fix anything?" Kinn let out a bitter laugh, disbelief etched into every syllable. "Do you really think that’s what I want?"
— "I just want you to be happy," Porsche whispered.
— "Happiness is you, damn it!"
The word exploded from him like a gunshot. And it hurt.
Kinn dragged a hand through his hair, his body trembling with frustration and pain.
— "You don’t understand me at all, Porsche. Not at all."
He walked out of the bathroom before Porsche could say another word.
POV: Kinn
The guest room was cold.
Literally.
There were no memories here. No warmth in the too-stiff mattress or the sterile silence. Just him, the dim bedside light, and the aching absence of Porsche.
Kinn stared at the ceiling. His eyes stung, but he hadn’t cried.
Not yet.
The anger still simmered in his chest, hot and tight. But beneath it was something worse. A void.
An ache that only appeared when Porsche pushed him away.
And now that idiot had offered him another omega like that meant nothing. Like their bond, their connection, their everything could be replaced by biology.
Kinn curled his hands into fists against the sheets.
He never wanted anyone else. Not since Porsche stormed into his life like chaos wrapped in a smirk.
And now he was saying things like that?
Suggesting Kinn go off and fuck someone else to have a baby?
His stomach turned.
He shut his eyes and breathed through his teeth. Every memory of Porsche holding that crumpled envelope, of the way his shoulders sagged, how his smile faltered with every failure—every single detail cut deeper.
Porsche was breaking under guilt.
And Kinn… Kinn was breaking too.
Because maybe he hadn’t said what needed to be said. Maybe he'd let Porsche believe that his value was tied to a child they hadn’t been able to have.
That needed to stop.
Now.
It was past 2AM when Kinn returned to their room.
The bathroom light was on. Porsche was curled on Kinn’s side of the bed, back turned, clearly awake but pretending not to be.
Kinn stood in the doorway for a moment.
— "I’m not mating with another omega." His voice was low, steady.
No reply. But the faint tremble in the blanket gave him away.
Kinn walked in further.
— "Not even if you beg me to. Not even if it’s the last chance I ever have to be a father. If it’s not with you... then it’s with no one."
Still no answer.
— "You are my family, Porsche."
He turned.
His face was swollen, his eyes red. He bit his lower lip, hard, like it could stop the sob trying to rise in his throat.
— "I just wanted to give you what you deserve."
— "What I deserve," Kinn knelt beside the bed, "is you. Only you. I don’t know how many times I need to say it before it sinks into that thick skull of yours."
— "But you want a baby..."
— "Yeah. I do. But not more than I want you. Not more than I want you happy, healthy, and here."
Porsche closed his eyes. The tears came anyway.
— "I feel broken, Kinn."
— "Then let me help you heal." Kinn stripped off his jacket slowly. "Piece by piece. Just… don’t push me away again."
Porsche reached out before he could even finish the sentence.
The kiss was desperate and wet with salt, mouths crushed together, hands on each other’s faces like they were scared to let go. There was no rush—but there was urgency. Urgency to be near, to be whole again.
Kinn laid with him, covering his body with his own, grounding him.
— "You are all I want," he whispered against Porsche’s neck. "All of it."
— "I’m sorry," Porsche breathed. "For everything. I was just... scared."
— "Me too," Kinn admitted, kissing his skin gently. "But you're my choice. Always."
They made love slowly, tenderly, like rediscovering one another. And when Porsche finally fell asleep in his arms, still flushed and teary, Kinn stayed awake a little longer.
Stroking his back. Breathing him in.
And silently promising to carry whatever came next, as long as it was with him.