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…Week Twenty-Six…

The salt that crunched under Elan's pumps sounded like concession. Swollen paws meant heels had been off the table for weeks, and the only shoes that matched his dress would be decimated by slushy sidewalks. His dress was tight, too. The pink fabric clung to his gravid womb in a way he just knew would crease. He should've worn black like Calill. At least she was putting all his cute clothes to use: one of the numerous benefits of them being the same size. She looked the part so much better than him right now. He lumbered, she strutted, like she'd grown up in heels. Cunning observers would have caught the glint of red sparks melting any ice underfoot.

"C'mere you two. You're gonna catch a chill dressed like that." Owyn hugged Elan and Calill to either side of him.

"What're you talking about?" Elan said, slightly muffled. The top of their head didn't even reach Owyn's armpit.

"Yeah, we're fire-types too," Calill said. She plucked at the fluff on Owyn's bare arms.

"Oh I know," smirked Owyn. He kissed Calill, then Elan, on the top of the head.

"You just want us to be your arm candy," giggled Calill.

"Of course I do," preened Owyn. He reeled them tighter into his embrace, groping brazenly at their asses. "This is a swanky place, after all. How am I gonna meet the dress code without some cute little things hanging off my arms?"

"If you're that worried you could've worn more than a polo," teased Calill.

"And rob you of the chance to ogle me over dinner? How could I do that to you, Bones?" said Owyn, affronted. He flexed so the tight grey fabric left nothing to the imagination.

"Can this wait till we're inside? I'm starving," whined Elan.

"We'll get the pups fed, don't you worry. Trust me, if we sat down an hour ago we'd still be waiting for our food and it'd be three times as crowded" placated Owyn. He ushered them through the upscale facade painted a trendy but revolting shade of olive. Elan caught the name emblazoned on the green awning: Trenttoria ZàZà. Owyn's size demanded the foot traffic flowing out the doors yield to him even if they shot him a dirty look for standing three-abreast. Several onlookers gawped openly at Elan. His ears flattened and a heat that wasn't flame rose under his cheeks. Scomething in these strangers' glares made Elan want to inspect his shoes. Maybe it was because they were all in suits and cocktail dresses instead of Flynt U hoodies.

"We've got the reso for Rydderch at nine. Should be a corner booth." Owyn's rumble snapped Elan out of his reverie.

"Right, you're the three-top. Is that— Oh, it's you?" The Watchog hostess' nails hovered an inch from her tablet.

"What's wrong, Ira? Hoping you'd seen the last of me?" said Owyn.

"Are you kidding? Ever since you left I've had to pay for sweet potato fries," Ira pouted. "The new guy on fryer is such a miser."

"Maybe he's just better than me. I kept making the wrong sides by mistake, after all," Owyn tapped the side of his nose.

Ira lead them through the dining room. It was quiet for a holiday weekend. Couples picked at the last of their dinners or nursed a final drink of the evening. There were a few four tops, but they were obviously on double dates. Not a lot of odd numbers tonight. Still, three was better than one. Well, we're still an even number if we count the kits. They arrived at their booth and Elan sat opposite Calill with Owyn between them. Elan nuzzled gratefully into Owyn's mane: any seating that could accommodate Owyn was much easier for him to navigate.

"Owyn, you bum! I can't believe you took us to another place you used to work," said Calill. She swatted him across the wrist with one of the menus. "Do you still get a discount here or something?"

"Have you seen the places I haven't worked?" Owyn asked cryptically.

"Is there a place in this town where you weren't on the payroll?" countered Elan.

"Oh now we're talkin' bout a whole different ball game. I've been hired fuckin' everywhere," scoffed Owyn. He groped Elan's belly under the table, a thumb pressing the fabric of his dress into his popped navel. Elan stifled a moan. "But if you saw the kitchens of some of those places you wouldn't wanna work there either, let alone eat. Besides, givin' Kitsy food poisoning would ruin the mood."

"At this point I'd eat anything. You promised me appetizers for waiting this late," pouted Elan.

Owyn waved his arms magnanimously. "Don't undersell me, I promised you the whole menu. But no booze. They card here."

"Killjoy," teased Calill. She and Elan busied themselves with picking from the appetizers. Owyn chimed in if something on the short list was made fresh or frozen but otherwise held his peace.

Their Serperior waitress arrived a moment later to take their order, her hair-like vines pulled into a harried ponytail that was threatening to become undone. She seemed preoccupied by Owyn, but Elan wasn't sure if her red-eyed squints were of judgement or recognition. Elan watched her drop by four other tables before she ducked behind an employees-only door. He frowned sympathetically. It must be a rough night to work. He was probably over thinking the looks and Owyn didn't seem to care. He returned to the menu: one of the kits was craving salt but another was craving something meatier and he tried to find something that would keep them both happy.

"Owyn, did they rebrand after you left here?" They spelled the restaurant's name wrong?" Elan asked conversationally. "

"Do I look like I speak French?" shrugged Owyn.

"It wouldn't matter if you did. Trattoria is Italian. It's, like, a small cafe," corrected Elan. He'd taken French in high school and was miserable at it the moment he had to start conjugating verbs, but he'd picked up a smattering of Italian vocab from his semester of art history courses. "Honestly a Trattoria isn't really right word either. Maybe I'd call it a bistro?"

"I recognize some of these entrees. Haven't you made some of these for us?" Calill said, nose deep in the menu.

"I told you I copied my homework," Owyn said, sheepishly.

"I think it's sweet. It's like we've got a live-in chef," Calill kissed Owyn on the cheek. "I recognize the rigatoni, the homemade pot pie, the rice bowls... why're they branding themselves as Italian if they're serving fusion and comfort food?"

"No idea. This place was always like that. I chalk it up to the owner being a dumbshit," chuckled Owyn.

"Surprised you put up with him, then," giggled Elan. "Or is that why you don't work here anymore?"

Owyn shrugged. "Most restaurant owners are dumbshits. The ones who aren't are either tyrants or sex pests."

"Sounds miserable," Elan said sympathetically. "So are the dumbshits the best of the three?"

"I mean, it's a kitchen job, of course it's miserable," said Owyn. "But if you're lucky you don't see the owner more than once a week. Dumbshits are chill but if they hire bad managers their kitchens are a mess. Tyrants run a tight ship and you just gotta know how to stay outta their way. And sex pests? I'd find a reason to leave the moment I caught wind of it."

"Yeah, I'd quit too if my boss was gross like that," said Calill.

"I mean I didn't quit. I just forced the issue.," grimaced Owyn. "Although one time an owner tried to get handsy with a a girl who got hired after me. She fuckin' grilled his hand right next to the asparagus."

Calill punched her palm. "Get his ass, girlie."

"So is that why you're a trainer now? You just ran out of restaurants to work at?" asked Elan.

"That's the secret, Kitsy, you never run out. I just got sick of the job," said Owyn. "Do you think I keep a resume? I can ace any kitchen interview in three questions or less."

"Only three? What's the trick?" Calill said, enraptured.

"Hey, hey, don't look at me for career advice," Owyn said sheepishly. "Besides, it only works if you're interviewing for a line cook. You got a better future ahead of you than kitchen jobs."

"You're dodging the question, hon," Elan teased Owyn under the chin with a tailtip.

"It's like magic," said Owyn. He held up three fingers. "Step one: 'Of course I'll work weekends.' Step two: 'Yeah, I'll take a drug test right now.' Step three: dice an onion in thirty seconds. The cherry on the sundae is 'no outstanding warrants.'"

"That last bit's not a requirement?" Elan said, eyes wide.

"You kidding? Felonies are like seasoning when it comes to restaurant kitchens," laughed Owyn. "The food never hits as good if the line cooks don't look like they could break you in half."

"I see why you fit right in," purred Calill, nuzzling against Owyn's shoulder.

"Culinary skills are stored in the balls, then?" giggled Elan. One of his tails curled suggestively around the Arcanine's lap.

"I can't take you freaks anywhere," groaned Owyn, tail a-wag. "Honestly, I'm practically a babyface by line cook standards. You should see the guys I used to work with."

Elan, wide-eyed, looked Owyn up and down, conscious that he could barely touch the tip of his nose to the firedog's shoulder. "What kinda guys would put the fear of Arceus in you, Owyn?"

"Well, there was that one time I worked with a guy who said he did time for shooting someone," shrugged Owyn.

"And did he?" asked Elan, on tenterhooks.

"I mean, I believed him. Besides, he wouldn't need the gun to kill me. Have you seen the claws on Absols?" said Owyn. He wiggled his fingers spookily.

They were interrupted by a haggard-looking Linoone bearing their drinks. "Sorry for the wait, folks, Selina's a little busy tonight. Your appetizers will be behind me in a moment."

Elan accepted his ginger ale gratefully. Calill had stuck with water but Owyn's hand froze as he accepted a copper mug that smelled vaguely sweet. "Oh shit, they're letting you manage now, Josh?! This place must really be goin' downhill."

Josh adjusted the tie that distinguished him from the other servers. His uniform was clean but his apron was splattered. "We coulda used you a few hours ago. Frankie and Alvin called out. I've been stuck behind the bar making cosmos all night."

"Shit, not Frankie?! Is she dying?" Owyn said without a hint of irony. "Remember when she came in with the flu and Krista had to chase her off the line with a broom?"

"Yeah," said Josh. "But what are you doing here, Owyn?"

"What else would I be doing on Valentine's Day?" smirked Owyn. Owyn hooked them by their waists and pulled them close. Elan and Calill yelped playfully and hastened to uncrease their dresses.

"Of course you are," Josh said cryptically. Before anyone could respond their Serperior waitress arrived with their long anticipated fried pickles. She nudged past Josh to lay them on the table and— It definitely wasn't Elan's imagination: she was looking at Owyn. Her mouth was barely open, venom oozing from crimson eyes. She remembered her manager was next to her in time to withhold whatever comment she'd been contemplating. Small blessings.

"We're ready to order," said Elan, desperate to fill the sudden silence. A scratchy electronic noise cut through the murmur of diners and the Linoone's head whipped over his shoulder automatically. He waved goodbye to Owyn, abandoning them to bleat out their orders while their waitress glowered. Despite being the one who volunteered to go, Elan forgot what he'd chosen and had to fumble with the menu till while the others went ahead of him. He regretfully settled on a pasta dish without the garlic bread. Garlic had been making the kits nauseous lately and he didn't want to risk an upset tummy. The goat cheese burger had been calling his name, but soft cheese was off-limits. Maybe if this place was good he'd have something to look forward to in a few months.

"I'll be back with a refill for you." The clink of an empty glass interrupted Elan's thoughts. Elan's ears wilted reflexively.

"Sorry. There's no rush," mumbled Elan. He felt the sting of her crimson eyes no matter how hard he averted his gaze.

"You're fine, hun." The Serperior's icy demeanor melted while addressing Elan only to snap back to shooting daggers at Owyn. Elan stared at his lap, equal parts embarrassed and baffled.

"You got something to say to me, Regina?" Owyn flashed his fangs, a twisted simulacra of his normal smile.

"You know that's not my fuckin' name, Owyn," snarled the Serperior.

"Might as well be," Owyn growled through gritted teeth. "You're bitchy enough to be queen of the Plastics."

Selena leaned in under the guise of refilling Calill's water. "You're fucking shameless, you know that?"

"Never said I wasn't," bristled Owyn. "But that doesn't explain why you think that's your problem or your business."

"Doesn't mean it's not a new fuckin' low for you. Was she still wearing her cap and gown when you knocked her up?" Selena hissed, inches from Owyn's ear.

"We're all going to Flynt U," Elan's feeble attempt at peacemaking fizzled before the words left his muzzle.

"So you're bringing your side chick along when you pick up freshmen?" Selena didn't even acknowledge Elan. "Are you gonna pretend you're not a flake for a few weeks before getting bored? Or are you just gonna dump her a week before her due date?"

"You don't know shit about shit," Owyn bristled.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Elan's our boyfriend and I got him pregnant," Calill interrupted Selena's retort loud enough that a few nearby diners glanced their way.

Selena gaped, eyes darting from Elan's bump to Calill's snarl. Sensing weakness, Elan pounced. "Yeah. We were together before we met Owyn, not the other way around."

"I'll be back with your refill." Selena flounced away, muttering darkly to herself.

"What a bitch," grumbled Calill, not bothering to wait till she was assuredly out of earshot. "Is she your ex or something?"

"Arceus, no," Owyn laughed sheepishly. "I'd never take you here if I thought I'd run into an ex."

"What's her deal then?" asked Elan.

"Sour grapes," grunted Owyn. "I don't shit where I eat. Besides, she was rude to everyone else on the line. I don't like people who are only nice when they want something from me."

"And she's still mad about it? When did you stop working here, anyway?" said Calill.

"Like, a year ago," shrugged Owyn. "I think she took my reputation as a slut personally."

"_ Weird _," said Elan and Calill together.

"Honestly I expected her to be fired by now," said Owyn. He examined their fried pickles sitting abandoned in the middle of the table, frowned, then flicked his hands as if trying to dry them without a towel. Rust-colored sparks left their food sizzling. "Sorry you got caught in the blast zone, there, Kitsy."

"I've had worse." Elan shrugged. He snagged one of the breaded spears and nearly moaned when he tasted brine. Calill and Owyn kindly let him take three more before trying one themselves. "Besides, I'd fail all my classes if I scampered every time someone gave my belly a dirty look."

Owyn laid a hand on Elan's shoulder. "I thought you said most people were over it by now."

"I said the art department was mostly over it. But I've got gen eds this semester." groaned Elan. "I show up to lecture hall fifteen minutes early just so I can squeeze into those stupid little seats without a hundred people giving me the stink eye."

"Man, I barely fit in those things, even in the back rows they make for larger species," commiserated Owyn. "Better hope you don't get much bigger, Kitsy."

"It's gonna happen no matter what. He's got a whole third trimester to go," said Calill with open relish.

Elan stuck his tongue out at Cal. "Carry them yourself if you're gonna be smug about it."

"Love you, too, Babygirl," snickered Calill.

"You're shameless, the both of you," huffed Owyn.

"What good has shame ever done me?" shrugged Elan. "it's not gonna stop people from staring."

"Not like you'd complain, you little show off," Owyn chortled and tickled Elan's popped navel. "Do you ever get strangers asking you to rub it?"

"N-No," Elan squirmed under Owyn's paws, willing his boner to go down. He was starting to regret edging all week in anticipation of their after-dinner plans. `And look who's calling who a show off. You wear grey sweatpants to the gym."

"I think our Pup looks good in grey. It brings out his eyes," Calill chimed in.

"You're as bad as him," Owyn groused even as he accepted a kiss from Calill. "At least I know where you get it from."

"You've got it backwards," giggled Elan. "I wasn't out of the closet until I started dating Calill."

"Now there's a bet I'd have lost, Kitsy. Here I was thinking you came out the womb voguing," Owyn said, eyebrows raised. "I guess that explains why you're so good at letting all the spectacle roll off your back. Bein' out in high school is hard."

"We weren't a spectacle, We were an exhibit," Elan minced.

"We weren't the only queer kids, thank Arceus, but we were the only out queers who were a couple," explained Calill. "If I had a nickel for each straight guy asking me what anal was like—

"—You'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice," Elan chimed in. "But we weren't the only gay couple. There was those two lesbians, too, remember? What were there names, again? Linda... Lana... shoot. Anyway, you asked the butch one to a dance a few months before we started dating, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember Leanne. She was in the pit orchestra," said Calill. "She was nice, she just said I wasn't her type."

"Wonder what she'd have to say now?" Elan teased.

"Heh. Should I get you two matching flannel for your anniversary? I'd offer a U-haul but I'm a little late for that," winked Owyn. Calill snorted water through her nose.

"Please, no," whinged Elan. "She'll make me wear it and I look awful in plaid."

"You'd do anything for love, but you won't do that," laughed Owyn, but Calill and Elan looked nonplussed. "Oh c'mon, now you're making me feel old. Do I gotta explain Meatloaf to you now?"

"I take it you're not talking about your dinner?" said Calill.

"Aren't you both theater fags? Are you really telling me you've never seen Rocky Horror Picture Show?" The two stared uncomprehendingly back at him. "Well shit, clear your fuckin' calendars then. I'm pretty sure there's a place that still does midnight screenings around here."

"But what does that have to do with meatloaf?" asked Elan.

"All in good time," Owyn said cryptically. "You can always ask your dad, 'Kiddo.' Or don't. What kind of music does the Ol' Timer listen to anyway?"

"He listens to butt rock, it's so embarrassing," moaned Elan.

"Be fair, he's also got good taste in grunge. But we'd have to tie him down before he'd listen to show tunes," Calill cackled. They were interrupted by the arrival of their refills, but it was Josh, not Selena, who brought them.

"How'd you know I needed another?" Owyn made a show of polishing off his cocktail. The empty mug smelled enticingly sweet to Elan when it passed under his nose.

"It's been ten whole minutes so I figured you'd be overdue," winked Josh.

Owyn theatrically clutched his chest. "Oof, straight to center mass."

"Hey, did Selena say something to you? She seemed, uh, more annoyed than usual," probed Josh.

"It was nothing, really," Owyn said quickly, quelling Calill with a look.

"She told me to take over your table," said Josh. "Did she—"

"—You said it was a tough night, right?" interjected Owyn. "I think she just got a little real with me, is all. She knew I'd get it because I've worked here."

"I see," said Josh skeptically.

"It was nothing," repeated Owyn. "You got better things to worry about, right?"

Josh hesitated, then shrugged. "If you say so. I'll be back with your dinner in a bit, okay?"

"Why?" Elan's question burst forth the moment Josh was gone. Calill backed him up with a demanding glare.

"I'm not worth losing a job over," shrugged Owyn. "She's not botherin' us anymore if she's not our server, right? And if I make a fuss the night stops being a date and starts being trouble."

"But that means she gets to mouth off to you," scowled Calill.

"I know how we can get back at her," cut in Elan. He drew Owyn into a kiss with a tug of his collar. Owyn, caught off guard, reciprocated clumsily. His tongue tingled and tasted fruity. The 'Arc ran a hand down the slope of Elan's bump and squeezed his thigh. Calill pulled Owyn into her arms the moment he and Elan came apart.

"I like how you think, Kitsy," Owyn chuckled, looking distinctly rumpled. Calill nuzzled against his shoulder.

"What are you drinking, by the way? It's making your kisses sweet," asked Elan. He knew better than to drink in his state, but he kept dipping his nose over Owyn's copper mug. It's aroma of fruit and spice was enticing, yet familiar.

"Peach mule," shrugged Owyn. "It's a little bachelorette party-coded, but I thought it'd be fitting for tonight."

"Why's that?" Elan rested his chin on a hand and crunched the final pickle.

"It tastes like you," winked Owyn. "Thought I'd whet my appetite before we got home."

"Now you've got me intrigued," said Calill. She batted her eyelashes at Owyn. "Can I try a sip?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble, Bones. Be a good girl and open wide," said Owyn. He reached for the straw in her water glass, dipped it into his cocktail, then withdrew it with his finger pressed into the top of the straw. A bulb of golden liquid quivered at the bottom, held by air pressure and surface tension.

Calill stuck out her tongue and accepted the proffered sample. She swirled the drink over her tongue, eyes closed in contemplation. "You're right, it does taste like Elan. What's in this?"

"It's a mule, so it's got lime juice and ginger beer. But there's peach schnapps and vodka, too. It'd fit right in at a sorority party," said Owyn.

"Ginger and peaches," Elan tittered.

"So which cocktail am I?" asked Calill. She batted her eyelashes and slid the cocktail menu suggestively under Owyn's nose.

Owyn contemplated the menu with utmost sincerity. "Hrm... tough question. If you'd asked me a few months ago I'd have said the jalapeño margarita, but now I'm not so sure."

"Why's that?" asked Calill.

"I know," said Elan. "It's the girl juice. You used to smell earthy but now you smell sweet, like me."

Calill flushed, tail thwapping against their booth. "So why don't you help Owyn pick my cocktail then?"

"What, you think I don't know what you'd taste like?" Owyn gave Calill his best pout. She swooped in for a kiss.

"I don't know anything about fancy drinks. But since you've gotten on the E you remind me of plums," said Elan. He perused the cocktail menu, but didn't see anything that really fit Calill's bouquet of cayenne and stone fruit.

"Damn. Last Christmas I worked I remember there was some brandy shindig on the menu that used plum bitters. It was good, too. Shame they took it off rotation," said Owyn. "We should really be lookin' over the wine list, then. But I dunno shit about shit when it comes to wine."

"I could text Mom. She likes wine." Elan waved his phone playfully.

"Oh that'd go over well," chuckled Owyn. "'Hey Mom, can you recommend a wine that'll pair well with my girlfriend?'"

"You should be texting Tyson, not Aideen. He knows what I taste like, after all," whispered Calill, only to devolve into cackles along with Elan.

"You two," Owyn rolled his eyes.

"I mean," Calill leaned conspiratorially into Owyn's flanks, so that Owyn was pressed between her and Elan. "If Aideen wants a taste..."

"Cal!" Elan recoiled.

"Oh that's rich, comin' from you, Kitsy," Owyn elbowed Elan's hip.

"Owyn, dooooon't," Elan whinged fruitlessly.

"What, you don't think your own mother is pretty?" goaded Calill.

"No fair! That's a cheap shot and you know it," Elan flushed redder than his Houndoom's flames.

"Don't tell me the Ol' Timer isn't enough for you?!" Owyn said, eyebrows disappearing into his mane. Elan blushed even brighter and the 'Arc smirked. "Oh, you're down bad bad, aren't you?"

"I'm nooooot," Elan slouched so deep in his seat his eyes were level with the salt shaker. He jabbed a tailtip at Calill. "You brought it up, you tell him."

"Elan got a bit of a reputation back in high school," Calill told Owyn. "Everyone collectively decided that having a hot mom was something worth teasing him over."

Owyn snickered into his mug. "So, Kitsy, how do you feel about Fountains of Wayne?"

Elan poked Owyn in the chest. "If I hear so much as a bar of Stacy's Mom I'm going to throw you straight to the Distortion World."

"Be fair, Babygirl, it is kinda funny in hindsight," said Calill. "Especially because, you know..."

"People were making comments about Mom in middle school. It was so baaaaad," griped Elan. "Anytime a boy hit puberty and the next thing they'd do was ask if Mom was single. Even the one's who'd met Dad asked!"

"Oh I bet it was like clockwork," said Owyn. "Balls drop: make a pass at your mom. Nature's a beautiful thing, sometimes."

"Half of them barely knew what they were talking about," groaned Elan. "It was r/MenWritingWomen's greatest hits."

Calill chuckled despite herself. "You should've written down what they said to you. Some of the guys got real freaky with it."

"I refuse to let that evil into the world," Elan said, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. "It's bad enough that I can't forget what they said to me."

"Well now you're teasing me, Kitsy. What could possibly be so cringe it's etched in your brain?" said Owyn.

Elan wilted under Owyn's rapt attention, desperate for something to distract the 'Arc but coming up empty handed. "It's not what they said, it's more... it's how they made me feel about it."

"So you are dow—"

"It's how I knew I liked boys, okay?!" Elan interjected. He jolted, belatedly realizing he was close to shouting, then sighed. "I mean, I was always kinda faggy, you know? Artsy, theatrical, all that jazz. But listening to a nonstop litany of straight boys talk about what they thought sex with women was like? Well... Sorta made me realize..."

Owyn put a hand on Elan's shoulder. "Sorry if I pushed you a little hard, there. I thought me and Bones were just havin' a little fun."

"I mean... I can tell you of all people given, you know, everything," Elan nuzzled tentatively against Owyn. "It was weird you know. I wasn't super popular in school and then random guys on the top of the food chain would just, like, yell in the halls how they wanted to fuck Mom. And the only way I could get them to stop was, uh—"

"—Portentous," interjected Calill.

"You tease, tell me how you did it," gruffed Owyn.

Elan dropped into the voice. "'Well... everyone says I look like my Mom... Do you think I'm pretty too?' That was the only thing that shut them up."

"Smart," Owyn tapped the side of his snout. "But let me guess: after so many games of Gay Torchic you started hoping you'd lose?"

"Maybe," giggled Elan. "There were other factors, too..."

"Like nursing a crush for nearly two years?" smirked Calill.

"I couldn't help that," protested Elan. "You were so tough and smart and cool and... well, you."

"What are you talking about? I was a dork and so were you," laughed Calill. "We're still dorks."

"I dunno... Tough? Smart? Cool? sounds a lot like you, Bones," said Owyn.

Elan pumped his fist. "Outvoted! I win!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't talking about me," said Calill. Elan buried his face in his hands.

"Hah! So it was about the Old Timer after all," cackled Owyn.

"Everyone always talked about Mom, but I remember thinking 'well, if I had to pick one of my parents...'" Elan whispered between his fingers, red as Calill's fire. "I think I was always thinking that when guys hit on Mom, but there was one day where the thought just sorta... crystalized."

"The closet's a hell of a drug, ain't it?" Owyn smiled warmly, devoid of his trademark sarcasm. "Let ye who hath no problematic crushes cast the first hard stone."

"I don't think you've ever told me this," said Calill kindly.

"I dunno," Elan said shiftily. "I just wish I had a more normal sexual awakening sometimes. Y'know, porn sites or weird cartoons or accidentally bricking a computer by downloading a virus. Instead I got to listen to the football team thirst for my damn mother."

"Some things just aren't in the cards, Kitsy," Owyn said kindly. "Besides, I'd have to rush you to the hospital if you got exposed to too much normal."

"I— what?"

"Anaphylaxis wouldn't be good for you," chuckled Owyn. He teased Elan's belly again, reducing the 'Nines to a quivering tangle. "Or the kits for that matter."

"Small domino: Aideen is hot. Big domino..." Calill pressed her paw against Elan's crotch beneath the table. The foxboi struggled to stifle a moan.

"Bullies, the both of you," mewled Elan. Calill pressed harder and the 'Nines bit down on one of his own tails to stop from making any noise.

"Bones, be nice to your boyfriend," smirked Owyn.

"Fine, I'll drop it," said Calill, feet returning to the floor. "But, for the record... would. You know, if the opportunity presented itself."

"Same," said Owyn. "Not that it ever would. You might have a chance, Bones. Aideen adores you."

"Not in that way," giggled Calill. "But you? You just need to ask. Did you see the way she eyed you up at Christmas?"

"I'm going to die," moaned Elan. To his relief, someone approached their table bearing their entrees, but it wasn't Selena or Josh.

Elan's savior was a towering, weathered Aggron. He loomed, taller even than Owyn. Veins of heat-tarnished iron spider webbed over his rocky arms. His armored mask had a grizzly visage thanks to a chipped horn, but it lit up when he saw Owyn. "¡Ya sabía que olía problemas! ¿Qué chingados haces aquí?"

"No, Javier, ¿no me digas que te pusieron de mesero también? Los tienen haciendo demasiado de por si." Owyn's reply nearly gave Elan whiplash. Owyn was the last person he'd expected to speak fluent Spanish. He silently bemoaned his decision to take French in high school. He wondered if Calill was following along any easier: she was smart and took AP Spanish. Based on her furrowed brow, she was trying to shake off a year of rust.

"Gracias a Arceus, no. RJ no es tan esclavista. No aún," said Javier even as he served the three their dinner. "Pero Selena está diciendo mil y un palabrotas mientras le da a otra chamba, tuve que ver quien la podría afectar de esa manera. Debí haber sabido que fuiste tu, Brasas."

"Oí que les faltaban manos ahí. ¿Como está Frankie? ¿Nadie se ha muerto?" said Owyn. He leaned towards Javier, eyes wide, ignoring his steak sandwich.

"Dijo que era algo de la panza, pero debe ser mortífero si la obligó a suspender." replied Javier, frowning.

"Ojalá no te hayas destrozado demasiado ahí por detrás," said Owyn. He gestured towards the doors that lead to the kitchen. "Sabes, puedo irme a la parrilla o algo si necesitan una mano."

Javier laughed and waved Owyn's offer away. "Nah, eres un invitado hoy. Además, ya pasó lo difícil. Lo que queda es nomás el infierno y los trastes. Y rezagados como tu.¿Qué chingados haces aquí por cierto?"

"¿Tu que crees cabeza de hierro? ¡Es día de San Valentín, hermano!" Owyn beamed and wrapped his arms around Elan and Cal's shoulders.

"¿Dos al mismo tiempo?" Javier groaned theatrically. "Guarda un poco de chucha para el resto de nosotros!"

"Ponte en mi nivel, vejestorio!" smirked Owyn.

"Oh, en tu nivel, tacaño?" laughed Javier, obviously goaded. "Por que estás pidiendo del menú de sandwiches si estás siendo bueno con tus chavas? Tengo media caja de colas de langosta que vender antes del Sábado."

"Nada de mariscos para ella," Owyn said, giving Elan a playful shake. "Pensé que sería amable y no tentarlas con lo que no pueden comer."

"Ah, así que eres un tacaño amable," Javier leaned in and continued in a stage whisper. "Cual es tu secreto, Brasas? Como convenzo a mi esposa de dejarme tener otra novia?"

"Nomás les tienes que preguntar," Calill cut in, her words deliberate as if she had hand picked each one. "Pero tienes que dejarla ver otros hombres tambien! Te puedo prestar a Owyn si crees que le gustaría."

Javier's jaw dropped the moment he realized he and Owyn hadn't been speaking in private. "Oh, ella es muy viva. Ten cuidado, Brasas, o te va a tener en la palma de su mano si no tienes cuidado."

"Demasiado tarde, amigo," laughed Calill. She snapped her fingers twice and Owyn sprung reflexively to attention. Elan stifled a cackle.

"Fue bueno verte, Javi." Owyn shot Calill a look and picked up his sandwich. He took a bite, face melting in obvious relish. "Y te acordaste justo como me gusta. Eres un campeón."

"Diviertete, Casanova," smiled Javier. He shot Calill a wink and took his leave. Elan bemusedly twirled his pasta around his fork, trying to piece together the exchange despite only recognizing every fifth word or so.

"That was a low blow, you know that, Bones?" Owyn elbowed Calill. She yelped and stole some of his fries as recompense.

"Don't act indignant. You love being a good boy for me," Calill giggled when Owyn's ears swiveled alert at the g-word. "Besides, a hunk like that has got to have a hot wife. I'm doing you a favor."

"Would," Elan snickered, more to watch Owyn sink into the booth than anything else.

"This is stolen valor. At least learn to wait tables before you start thirsting for line cooks," groaned Owyn, ears flattened over his mane.

"So what was that word he kept calling you," asked Elan. "Brasas' or whatever it was?"

"It means 'embers,' right? Or has it been too long since I had a vocab lesson?" Calill chimed in.

"Sorta," said Owyn. "He's calling me 'Coals.' Like for a grill."

"So what's the story behind it? And don't tell me there isn't one," asked Elan.

"Earned it on a hell shift. Something shut off the gas lines to every building on our block during dinner service. I was the only fire-type on duty that night so they pulled me off fryer and made me keep the flat top hot all night," said Owyn.

Elan's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Wait, they shut the gas off during working hours? That sounds like it was an actual emergency. What if, like, the stove exploded?"

"Yeah, we probably should've closed," shrugged Owyn. "But you've forgotten something verrrrry important, Kitsy."

"What's that?"

"It was a Saturday rush and RJ would've lost a lot of money," Owyn rolled his eyes.

"So should I start calling you Coals?" Calill purred.

"What'll happen to 'Softie' then?" pouted Owyn.

"Ha! So you admit you like it," cackled Elan.

"Maybe. How's your food, Kitsy?" harrumphed Owyn.

"Good, but I think you've made this for us before," said Elan. "Yours is better."

"You're just sayin' that," Owyn said, ears wilting.

"Be a good boy and take a compliment," ordered Calill, fingers poised to snap.

"Yeah, get appreciated, nerd," said Elan. Owyn was too tall to kiss while they both sat, so Elan contented himself by nuzzling underneath his neck.

"You two are enjoying this," accused Owyn, draining his cocktail.

"Of course we are_._ It's a date, isn't it?" laughed Calill. She half-stood in her seat to kiss Owyn, unburdened as Elan was.

"Wasn't this whole thing your idea?" asked Elan.

"Heh, got me there Kitsy," said Owyn. He pulled the two into a hug, leaving Elan smushed in the depths of cinnamon fluff. "You're too good to me, both of you."

"I don't think we are," murmured Elan once Owyn released them. He leaned against his shoulder and picked at the the remaining half of his dinner.

"Yeah, especially because you're paying for all this," said Calill.

"I dunno why I offered, considering what you make on your pictures," said Owyn.

"Babygirl's the real money maker," said Calill. "I'm just his imperfect medium."

"That's not fair to you," said Elan. "Besides, the whole thing was your idea. I'd never have made a TailTipz if not for you."

"Yeah, give yourself credit. You've got a load-bearing role in all this," smirked Owyn. He caressed Elan's belly, the thread of the dress teasing the patch where the fur had thinned.

"Y-yeah, the alt's been way more consistent than the main," Elan squirmed under Owyn's touch until he had to stifle another moan with his tail. His next words came out slightly muffled. "Wonder what they'll do once the kits are gone."

"I'm sure they'll stick around for you winning personality," Owyn winked.

"And awful memes, don't forget those," said Calill.

"Yeah, I'd buy that for a dollar," said Owyn. Further teasing of Elan was cut short by the arrival of Josh. Owyn took his hand away from Elan's tummy just in time to accept the refill. Elan realized his tail was in his mouth. Owyn leaned forward and Elan gratefully ducked behind his shoulders while he waited for his cheeks to stop prickling. "You don't mind closing us out, Josh?"

"No dessert tonight?" prompted Josh.

"You and I both know that shit's all frozen," said Owyn.

"Not the bread pudding," countered Josh.

"You think I can't make a goddamn bread pudding myself? Besides..." Owyn indulged in a theatrical eyebrow waggle. "I've got something special prepped back home."

"Riiiiight," Josh rolled his eyes and took Owyn's proffered cash. The 'Arc waved away his offer of change before Josh could open his mouth.

Elan shot Calill a look. He pounced the moment their waiter was out of earshot. "So we're eating your ass for dessert?"

"It's on the menu, but I had other plans when we got home," said Owyn with a would-be-casual shrug.

"Tell us, you tease!" ribbed Calill.

"Is it something to do with that 'do not touch' tupperware tucked behind the lettuce?" smirked Elan.

"Damn, I thought you wouldn't look there," pouted Owyn.

"You never buy lettuce, I knew something was fishy," said Elan. "When did you find the time to temper chocolate anyway?"

"I may have played hooky last Thursday. I knew you'd both be in the studio," Owyn whispered conspiratorially.

"The strawberries turned out good," said Elan.

"Awwww, you already ate them?" Owyn finished his mule with a moody swig.

"It was a crime of necessity. The kits had a craving and it was the only chocolate in the house," pleaded Elan. "Besides, I only had two... or three..."

"One for each kit. It's only fair," said Calill. "Now, are you gonna keep dawdling or are you done?"

Owyn contemplated the fresh copper mug, glinting with condensation. "It'd be a shame to let that go to waste..."

Calill held out her hand. "Treat yourself, pup, but give me your keys."

Owyn did as he was told before knocking back the mule in a single swig. "Okay, now I'm ready."

Elan had to wiggle out of the booth to avoid bumping his belly against it, but Calill's shoulder was there before he'd even extracted his tails. He reflexively sunk into her embrace but was interrupted when Owyn blundered them against an empty table. The 'Nines yelped, saved from falling only by hooking a tail around Calill's waist. Cal snatched one of Owyn's arms by the scruff, and together their weight counterbalanced the 'Arc enough to keep him from keeling over. "Mind the cargo, Softie."

"Are you gonna be okay," Elan said, a little winded as he clung to Calill.

"I'll b-be fine," Owyn mumbled thickly. He blinked once shook all over, as if he were drying himself. "I'd've left that last one if I'd noticed Josh was givin'me shiftys."

"Excuse you?" Elan giggled bemusedly.

"Shum places letcha have one shift drink once'ya clock out, Y'know, a shifty!" said Owyn, holding up one finger for Elan. "Josh was pourin' booze like I still worked here, is all. Nothin' I can't handle."

"C'mon Pup, let's get you home," sighed Calill.

"Guess we're having rum cake for dessert tonight," Elan giggled.

"But mules don't have rum," said Owyn, indignant.

"C'mere, you." Elan and Cal flanked Owyn, but his gait was remarkably steady, only leaning against one or the other when they took a turn. Elan purred whenever Owyn had to lean against him. His natural cinnamon-smoke scent was strong in his nose in a way that sent his tails swishing. Owyn's maroon shitbox van came into view and Elan helped Owyn sprawl along the back bench seat before joining Cal up front. The engine chugged in protest of the chill once, twice. On the third try, Owyn casually punched the side and the ignition finally roared to life.

"Will'ya be a doll and run a few stop signs, Bones? I've got plans when we get home. Big, biiiiiig plans," growled Owyn. He reached lazily between the armrest to grope at Elan's belly. Elan mewled and squirmed in his chair. A tent pitched under his dress, a bead of dampness visible each time they drove under a street light. "You're so easy t'tease since you p-popped, Kitsy."

"You can wait a little longer," said Calill maternally.

"What, edgin' me 'fer a week ain't enough? Any longer and Kitsy'll have a whole second litter once I'm done with'em." harrumphed Owyn, renewing his onslaught of Elan's baby bump. Elan retaliated by slithering a tail against Owyn's slacks only to find the fabric bulging perilously. The foxboi's brow furrowed as he blindly fished for Owyn's belt buckle.

"Who says it's Babygirl getting knocked up?" teased Calill as she pulled into an empty stoplight. Her hand roamed to Elan's cock while they waited for the light, stroking him through the fabric. Elan reciprocated with another tail, freeing her sheath with the snap of elastic.

"So what, you're finally bottoming for me?" snickered Owyn. He was approaching half mast at record speed. His spiced musk lay thick as the snow outside in the confines of the van. Elan glared at the stoplight, willing it to turn green between little wiggles in his seat.

"How about I put a baby in you next?" countered Calill. The light turned green but she took her time putting the car back into drive with only one hand to steer.

"Yeah, then we'll match," panted Elan. He put his hand over Calill's, the one still on his cock, all the while his tails worked on his partners.

"My preggy puppy and my preggy princess," snickered Calill.

"Mrrrph, right," said Owyn thickly. He was sprawled across the bench seat, hips curled so that his full erection was smushed against his face. His mane was spotted with streaks of fragrant pre. His tongue lapped aimlessly, as if unable to decide if it wanted to indulge in the taste or coax his full girth into his maw.

"You've already got such a cute tummy," cooed Elan. "Imagine how cute it'd be if it was big and full of pups."

Owyn was too preoccupied to do anything besides grunt an affirmative. Elan and Cal weren't much better. Their fervor rose with every stop sign or red light. All three were free of their sheaths, pre dampening the fur on Elan's fingers and tails. Their breathing quickened or slowed as they neared their edge, often so close a stray throb threatened to push one over the precipice. The impending release left Elan wracked with a need that curled him into a ball in his seat, only for a light to turn green and give him enough time to wind back down. A block from their home, the confined space was blanketed in a musk that lit a fire in Elan right behind his womb.

"O-Owyn you lug, that load was for me," moaned Elan. Owyn's reply was delayed by needy gulps that made Elan quiver in envy.

"Sh-shoulda been lighter with th- HYILP!-that tail of yours," gasped Owyn. He gave his distended stomach a hearty slap, sending a slosh reverberating about the van interior. He lurched with another self-satisfied hiccup that splattered his face with an aftershock of firedog nut. "Beshides, now we ma- HYILP-HULP!-we match, Kitshy."

Calill's eyes glinted crimson in the rear view mirror. "I dunno, Babygirl, maybe it's better you didn't take him. Between that load and the kits I don't think you'd be able to walk after."

Elan curled his fingers vice-like around Calill. "That's it. If we aren't all fucking in two minutes I'm gonna scream."

They tore at their seat belts and extracted Owyn from the back. They rushed clumsily to their door, cocks swaying between their legs, heedless of the cold. They steered Owyn towards his room adjoining the living room, kicking off their shoes and tugging at each other's clothes along the way. Owyn collapsed on the bed with a muffled squelch, ass poised high atopabove his swollen gut.

"So much for him topping tonight. You doing okay down there, Softie?" giggled Calill. Owyn gave a quavery thumbs-up, tail a-wag.

"We'll have to improvise," said Elan. He and Calill descended upon the prone Arcanine, torn by indecision with his plump ass, heavy cock, and gently swinging nuts all on display. Elan shot Calill a wink. "Itadakimasu!"

Owyn's exasperated grunt crumbled into a groan beneath Elan's tongue. Elan spread firedog cheeks, fingers sunk into the plush rump so that he could push his muzzle deeper. Owyn's scent slowly subsumed the foxboi's other senses: heady, musky, and spiced. A wagging tail kept mussing up his bangs, leaving the tip of his nose ticklish. The firedog's massive, half-hard dick thwapped wetly against the heavy bellies it dangled between. Needy throbs pulsed down each excessive inch, the splatter of precum on floor rebellions of instinct against Owyn's refractory period and current blood alcohol content.

A firm, gentle presence pushed against the slope of Elan's womb. He knew by its curve to be Calill's horn. She wormed her way between them, showing Owyn's shaft and nuts the same fervor Elan lavished over his hole. Her whip tail coiled around Elan's cock, teasing the underside of his tummy at the same time. Her ministrations left both boys with quavering knees and Owyn's moans twisted into a high, puppy keen. Owyn was all well and good sprawled on the bed, but Elan had to fight for his life not smush Calill.

"Titsh're growin' in nicely, Bones," said Owyn huskily. "They f-fit 'round my dick reeeeal good."

"Love you too, Softie," Calill cooed, so radiant that Elan smiled with secondhand euphoria. She nuzzled deeper between cock and womb, "accidentally" tickling Elan's womb and leaving him so shaky that he had to anchor his tails around Owyn's ankles. He leaned his weight against Owyn's rump, content to watch Calill squish her budding breasts against Owyn's pulsing shaft, fur and flesh both slick with firedog precum.

"They look so gorgeous on you, Girlie," sighed Elan.

"I'm not half as gorgeous as my Babygirl," purred Calill, red eyes smouldering just above the slope of Elan's womb. A sudden slosh sent sent both Elan and Calill reeling: Owyn had rolled onto his back, legs spread and belly threatening to obscure his face from view.

Owyn blinked his face into an appropriately abashed puppy beg, belatedly realizing he'd sent both Elan and Calill sprawling. "Oops. Y'allright, Kitsy?"

"Peachy," huffed Elan with a shaky thumbs up.

"Sorry. can'ya blame me fer wantin' a view of the honies givin' me good head?" smirked Owyn.

"Who knew peach schnapps would make you such a sweet talker?" giggled Calill. She sprung from the floor with grace she'd not had mere months ago. She straddled Owyn's chest, pert rump close enough that his tongue tickled her taint when he licked his lips. "How's the view now, Pup?"

"Exshqu- HYILP!-quisite, Bones."

Owyn's gut gurgled softly when Calill braced against it in anticipation of his tongue. First contact sent her whiptail into overdrive, thwip-twhipping across Owyn's nose whenever he came up for air. Her cock thumped against Owyn's chest with every twitch, drooling a little pond of precum in the over his chubby pecs.

Elan stumbled back to the bed, half collapsing his weight against Owyn. His firm womb squished against Owyn's bloated gut. Firedog cock throbbed insistently between them, each ripple of pleasure pressing right against Elan's extra sensitive navel. His own length, dwarfed by Owyn's nestled perfectly in valley of his swollen knot. Elan wormed his tails around Owyn's legs again, giving himself enough leverage to frot clumsily against the 'Arc. Calill "helpfully" skated her fingers across Elan's womb, sabotaging his feeble attempts at tempo and leaving his cock twitching on a hair trigger. "C-Calilllll..."

Owyn cut any banter from Calill short when he wrapped his hands around her hips. He lifted her into the air, squinting to bring Elan into focus. "You're gettin' big, Kitsy. How'dem kits shtill got three months t'bake?"

"Just you wait! My next litter will be even bigger," panted Elan between eratic gyrations.

"Bones was right, you can't top fo- HIC -for shit. B-but ish cute when you try," Owyn smirked blearily.

"You gettin' close already, Babygirl?" teased Calill, legs windmilling feebly in the air.

"T-tease," stammered Elan, face as pink as the belly button that Calill's fingers danced across.

"Make some room you two," Calill ordered with a poise in utter defiance of her current position.

Elan arched his back in defiance of the weight around his middle. His dick twitched bounced against him and Owyn like a kick drum. With a steadiness Owyn had last exhibited several drinks ago, he leaned Calill forward, guiding her snout down the gap between their bodies. Her mouth was warm and nostalgic around Elan, horns pressing just hard enough against his tummy to push him past the brink. "C-Cal! Arceeeus, Calilll!"

Elan's swelling knot was met by Calill's kiss. Her tongue swirled and lapped reverently, as if the Ninetales' balls were fonts of ambrosia. Her muffled squeaks rose to meet Elan's mewls, then shuddered into a needy keen when Owyn raised his muzzle to the girldick dangling above him. Elan clutched at her horns, tugging her deeper beneath his thighs as she drank of him and Owyn of her, heads spinning as if to join Owyn in the fuzzy bliss of bacchanal.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs and heady afterglow. Elan was only truely cognizant of the points of Calill's curled horns digging into the meat of his inner thigh. He blinked blearily and struggled to roll off of her. "You alright, Girlie?"

"Never better, Babygirl," Calill mumbled dazedly. She groped blindly around Elan's womb for a handhold for which to extricate herself, only to _ YIP _! loudly when Owyn "helpfully" lifted her into the air. They fumbled about, but by some miracle Calill landed safely on Owyn's opposite side. Elan snickered at the display, one tail idly running over the copious firedog length that lay between him and his girlfriend.

"You two're reeeeeal cute when yer makin' kissy faces like that," sniggered Owyn. "So'm I gonna get some help here or should I jerk off in the shower?"

"Don't you worrie, Softie. Fucking you always works up a thirst," purred Calill. She lunged forward, muzzle enveloping Owyn's huge tip. The 'Arc shuddered and Calill pushed lower over the bucking shaft, her greedy gulps replacing the warm and woozy lull that had blanketed over the bedroom. Elan idly stroked Owyn's throbbing shaft and counted Calill's swallows so that he could take her place. Elan knew to be ready by the third, but Calill only pushed her lips closer to Owyn's knot. Four... Five... Six... Calill pulled back after s_even_ gulps! Elan swooped in, cheeks bulging with hot nut. He moaned thickly, fingers curling around Owyn's pudge. A heavy warmth pushed between his womb and the crown of his belly till he was so full that his body ached.

"You w-were ri- HIP!-right, Cal," Elan hiccuped woozily. He patted his chest tuft, trying to settle himself after swallowing so much. "I think the whole load w-woulda been too much."

"All that pr- HYILP!-practice p-paid off, Bones," mumbled Owyn. He reached blindly for Calill and sloshed the modest paunch that bulged over the 'Doom's once-flat abs. "Who's the baby d-daddy? Don't tell me you knew how'ta bo- HYILP!-take dick this whole time?"

Calill squeaked high enough to crack the windowpanes, leg thumping against the sheets. "They're Babygirls. It's n-not like I can't power bottom."

"Whose gonna tell Felicity she's... she's getting more than triplets?" Owyn chuckled thickly. "You're gonna be a go- HYILP!-gorgeous MILF, Bones."

"B-bet having a baby wi- HIP!-will do-_ EEK _!- oh nooooo..." groaned Elan, curling into himself under the sudden force of his quickening.

"No surprise we woke them up," Calill said sympathetically.

"Gotchu, Kitsy." Owyn scooped up Elan and Calill in paws glowing with umber flame. The embrace smothered them all in the soporific warmth, but it took over a minute for the kicks to cease. All the while, Calill's swell was pressed to Elan's, so that she felt every stir inside the Nines as if it were her own.

"Happy Valentine's, Softie," murmured Calill, lapsed in the bliss of afterglow.

"Love my mutts so much," purred Elan, eyelids fluttering. "Daddy's gonna love the blow-by-blow."

"How'd I get mished up with such perverts?" chortled Owyn.

"You know you love it, Puppy," teased Elan.

"'Course I love you two," sighed Owyn. He hugged them all tighter, beckoning them all to a woozy doze.

...Later that Night...

A sharp pain in Elan's abdomen jolted him awake. He blinked blearily and massaged the sore spot with a tail. He knew without checking his phone only an hour or two had passed: he was still swollen from the night's debauchery, but no longer so taught he ached. Elan braced himself in anticipation of the next kick but it never came. One of the kits must've been trying to get comfortable in there. He sighed and flipped his pillow to the cool side. The kiddos were probably more comfortable than he was right now. Owyn made even a king bed cramped, especially when the three of them all slept together. A weight on his tails told him he was stuck here too, not without waking the others up.

Resigned to his fate, Elan contemplated his darkened phone before tossing it into a pile of Owyn's laundry. He hoped it was the clean pile. Not that he minded Owyn's scent, but he didn't feel explaining to his classmates why his phone reeked like a gym-Ratatta. He'd been taking Dr. Larson's advice about sleep schedules and blue light seriously and didn't want to succumb to the doomscroll. He'd only pulled one all-nighter last semester, too. He contemplated telling Mom about that. She'd never liked how late he stayed up in high school. Pro strat: get boy-pregnant to fix your circadian rhythm. Elan stifled a snicker, but to his dismay Calill stirred next to him.

He turned to apologize, but to his relief her slumber was undisturbed. She'd not removed her makeup before falling asleep and all three's fur was smeared with black and gold, but it did nothing to detract from how serene she looked next to him and Owyn. She turned in her sleep, one arm around Owyn's thick gut. A sweet puppy awroo escaped her muzzle and Elan giggled when her whiptail thwapped against his thigh.

"Having a good dream in there?" murmured Elan. He scritched Calill behind the base of her horn soft enough to not wake her.

"She's havin' a verrrrrry good dream." Owyn's sighed blearily.

Elan jumped and stifled a squeak. He hadn't noticed the 'Arc had stopped snoring. Elan mewled under a barrage of quickening. He felt a pang of guilt for startling the kits, but was thankful Calill was still asleep. "I didn't r-realize you wer-_ YIP _!-were awake."

"Sorry, Kitsy," said Owyn. He reached across the bed and placed his massive hand on top of Elan's bump. Umber sparks smoldered under his palm, casting the bedroom in the furtive glow of a dying campfire. Owyn rocked Elan side to side with casual strength. Elan mewled and felt the kits settle, but his belly was still sloshy from the Arc's load. Owyn's smirk gleamed in the dusk but he didn't tease Elan any further. "It's not your fault anyway, it's hers."

"Calill?" asked Elan. Owyn shifted his thigh so that Calill's hips rested against Elan's. She was humping against Owyn in time with her soft snores. Elan coiled a tail gently around her crotch and realized that she'd knotted her sheath in her sleep, her cocktip poking steadily into the underside of Owyn's paunch. "Naughty pup. She just can't get enough of you."

"Never thought I'd meet someone who could match my stamina," Owyn harrumphed good-naturedly. "But between you two I'm stuck fighting to keep up."

"Three if you count Daddy," said Elan. "Does this mean we get to call _you '_Old Timer' now?"

"How about you let me hit thirty before you start teasing me for being old?" griped Owyn.

"Deal," said Elan. He nuzzled against Owyn's shoulder. "Thanks for tonight. It was nice. We need to find time to do more throuple stuff. Gym day is hardly a proper date."

"I'll find us a better venue next time. Sorry about the... you know," Owyn said shiftily.

"It's not a big deal. Stares and petty snipes have been old news ever since I stopped hiding my bump," assured Elan. He kissed Owyn on the cheek. "By tomorrow I'll have forgotten whatever that waitress said to me. Then all that'll be left is the memory of a nice dinner I had with my partners. And we know to pick somewhere else next year."

"Next year? Thinkin' that far ahead already?" Owyn said wryly.

"Yeah," said Elan more insistently than he'd meant to. He nuzzled tentatively against Owyn's chest. The firedog's collarbone rubbed against Elan's cheek, its firmness ablated by the fluff of 'Arc mane. "You know, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Calill."

"Didn't think you were," gruffed Owyn.

"You make me really happy. I just... wanted you to know," murmured Elan.

"You ever get tired of being a big 'ol ray of sunshine? I swear nothin' ever gets you down," Owyn sighed.

"I had a lot of practice," sighed Elan.

"Back when you were the exhibit?"

"Yeah," nodded Elan. "Most of the time people gawked at us like we were aliens, but a couple people were more... proactive. At least until Calill started showing her teeth."

"She's always been tough, huh?" said Owyn. He scratched Calill behind the horns like Elan, but she remained sound asleep.

"Sometimes I wish she didn't have to be," Elan said gravely.

"At least she hasn't forgotten how to be soft yet," said Owyn. "We have you to thank for that, I think."

Elan lingered in silence, struck by the absence of Owyn's trademark sarcasm. "What about you? Have you forgotten?"

"Yeah, sometimes," shrugged Owyn.

"I don't think you have," Elan said seriously.

"Guess you're rubbin' off on me, Kitsy," said Owyn. "Maybe I'd have turned out different if I had someone like you back in the day..."

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to," Elan murmured.

"Wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't wanna tell you," said Owyn. His hand enveloped Elan's. "I sorta went through what you're goin' through, y'know? With everyone and their mother gawking at your belly and all."

"I mean it's a good belly," said Elan. He patted it with one of his tails.

"Not what I meant, Kitsy," said Owyn. "I didn't always have it, you know. I wasn't exactly a scrawny Growlithe but after evolution kicked in I filled out in all sortsa places."

Elan winced sympathetically. Years later he still had pains in his elbows and knees from his evolution and he'd only shot up eight inches from his evo. "It's hard to imagine you ever being sma— ohhhh."

"Exactly," winked Owyn. "I was the school's premier freakshow overnight. On the bright side I got to bang some cute guys on the down-low. Made sussing them out waaaay easier."

"How could you tell?" Elan whispered conspiratorially.

"It's how they looked at me," said Owyn. "The straight guys were envious, but the girls and the gays were hungry."

_"_Big enough to have your own gravity," giggled Elan. "But only for bottoms."

"Guess that explains how you ended up in my orbit," chuckled Owyn. "But you handle being a public spectacle way better than I did. I nearly didn't graduate high school because I threw a few too many punches. Not an ideal way to cope, trust me."

"Cal wasn't afraid to roll up her sleeves back in the day. Maybe she's just better at not getting caught," said Elan. Owyn grunted in acknowledgement and let Elan continue. "It's just silly, how people react. The sorority girlies are the worse. They gawk like my bump is some scarlet letter. Like, 'Yeah, Brittany, I'm knocked up. That happens when people fuck sometimes.' It'd be funny if it wasn't so petty."

"Slut shaming, tale as old as time," sighed Owyn. "Wanna take bets on where they fuck their boyfriends when they think no one's looking?"

"Sure, if you don't mind me winning," smirked Elan. "Their favorite spot is the third floor study rooms in the library. They're always dark and no one ever checks them."

"Damn, my money was lower level of the student center, you know, after the post office closes," said Owyn.

"So what did I win?" Elan gave Owyn his best wide-eyed beg.

"You didn't let me bet anything," Owyn stuck out his tongue at Elan. "Better luck next time."

Elan giggled and flicked Owyn's nose with one of his tails. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Shoot, Kitsy."

"Sometimes I like when people act all confused that I'm pregnant. It was always so funny watching their brains ooze out of their ears trying to do the math," giggled Elan. "The perils of presenting more femme, I guess."

"I mean you wouldn't be in this mess at all if you didn't look killer in a dress," said Owyn.

"Yeah," agreed Elan. "You know, I really only started doing dresses in public for Calill."

"And the fact you need maternity clothes has nothin' to do with it?" scoffed Owyn.

"Maybe. But I'm definitely gonna keep dressing femme after the kits are gone," said Elan. "I just miss when people assumed Cal was my stud. Now that only happens if they knew us before her transition or mis-clock me as a T-for-T trans guy. Most of the time people think we're lesbians now."

"You sure you don't want that flannel after all?" scoffed Owyn.

"What if you got me plaid panties? Then I'd be, like, a secret lesbian," tittered Elan. Owyn's stifled guffaws nearly bumped Elan from his spot on his chest. He had to cling to Owyn's mane and tug his bloated self back into optimal snuggling position.

"Can I ask you somethin' on that note, Kitsy?"

"Sure."

"Why do you always talk like the kits are Calill's? Didn't you rope me into this mess because of dear 'ol Daddy?"

Elan considered his answer. "You know, it used to be because I didn't want to believe they were Dad's. But now I just... want them to be hers. Because if the kits are hers, then I'm hers, too."

"Have you thought about just gettin' a collar? Seems like way less work than pushing a baby outta you," smirked Owyn.

"I mean if we're collar shopping you're first in line," said Elan.

"You're too sweet for your own good, Kitsy. You're making me believe you over here," hummed Owyn.

"I do mean it," insisted Elan. He kissed Owyn on the tip of his nose. "I love you."

"Love you too, Kitsy," sighed Owyn. Calill growled sleepily between them, hips still grinding against Owyn's gut.

"See? Cal loves you, too." Elan nuzzled under Owyn's chin, coming to rest in the voluminous fluff of his mane. Owyn hummed deep in his chest.

"I know I'm not Bones, but I've liked bein' your baby daddy," Owyn said gently. "Or at least, pretending to be."

"Me too. And I wouldn't mind being your baby momma," said Elan. "At least in theory. If I had three of your pups in me I'd be a blimp by now."

"Guess we'll have to break the record next time you're in heat," growled Owyn.

"You promise?" Elan sighed sleepily.

"Sure thing, Kitsy." Owyn kissed Elan between his ears. Elan clung to Owyn. He didn't remember either of them letting go before he'd drifted off again.