You'll Never Be Alone [mpreg|sequel]

xvii

Dan paces back and fourth, belly jotting out just a bit bigger at twelve weeks pregnant.  He frowns as he feels a sharp kick to his lower belly, or at least he thinks it's a kick.  For all he knows it might be a little punch as the baby continues to stretch with all it's little might.  He can feel himself smiling just a bit more before sighing and finally deciding to leave what has become his room in the Brock-Symbiote house.

He reaches to press the heels of his palms into his aching lower back, wincing as the movement tugs at the newly healed scar of his shoulder.  A reminder of the nightmare he had to live through a mere two weeks ago.  The memory still haunting him at night and every waking moment.

He pauses with a warm smile when he spots Mason and Sleeper running about. For a moment he forgets.  His gaze flickers to Abel lounging on the couch with Zeal on his chest and Curiosity in the bouncer before him.  He can hear Eddy is in the kitchen making pancakes, and he can distinctly pick out his bickering with Venom about adding more chocolate syrup on the growing stack.

A tentacle from Abel shoots out as he's about to take a step further into the living room and he notices Carnage clear away one of the toy cars and a Barbie doll Mason has left lying around in his path.  He offers the red symbiote a grateful smile and is unsurprised when he gets nothing in return.  It's the thought that counts and he knows Carnage is only being amiable because he saved Abel and their offspring.

Abel shoots him a grin though before he's no doubt scolding the symbiote in the confines of his mind.  It makes Dan look at the boy with endearment before the ache that something is missing returns in his chest.

He knows what it is, he knows.

He simply does not want to acknowledge the fact that he yearns for his own symbiote, for Riot.

He wants him to come back.

This is their home.  He was their home.

He takes a deep breath before settling on the loveseat, the ache in his back lessening with the pressure gone.

Still, there's a feeling in his gut, a vice squeezing his heart, that he can't quite place.  He rubs at his chest and leans further back into the cushions, his throat aching the more he focuses on it.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Riot?

Where are you Riot?

Where are you, you dumb parasite?

And he pretends he doesn't see Abel's concerned gaze when he sniffles.

Stupid hormones.