Hobie is... what? (Versão em inglês)

Hungry for a peanut butter sandwich.

>>>> (The present) <<<<
It was with a strong urge to eat a peanut butter sandwich that Hobie woke up... well... that is, until very raised voices were present. He acknowledged he was in the HQ's infirmary, he'd been here a few times secretly to get stitched up after a tough fight or two. Turning his face to the glass window he knew was there, his eyes widened and he tried to get up as fast as he could, even though he was still shaking.
On the other side he saw 4 spiders trying to hold Miguel while his friends held Miles (Thank heavens Mayday wasn't there), the snarls resembled a dog fight, both alphas eyes locked on each other ready to attack.. .until Hobie stumbled to a stop in the empty space his friends and companions had put between Miles and Miguel.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stopped, stopped! I'm all for a good fight, but I don't think this is the right place, at least go outside!
- HOBIE!
Before his friends could reach him, Miles hugged him and spun to place him behind him, protecting him by glaring fiercely at everyone.
- Miles, we're not going to hurt him. We are his friends.
Gwen tried to approach her by showing her neck in submission, Peter and Miguel's growl stopped her.
- I trust you, I can't trust him! What if he tries to hurt Hobie and my son?!
- What-
- HOW DARE YOU THINK I WOULD DO THAT?
- YOU ALMOST KILLED ME NUMEROUS TIMES—
Pulling out his guitar from the nearby corner, Hobie made everyone hit the wall with the sonic attack, only then would this madness stop. Hobie could feel the nausea getting stronger, what he barely noticed was Miles rushing to his side and placing the empty wastebasket in his hands before the bitter bile came out.
- LET'S ALL CALM DOWN BECAUSE ALL OF THIS IS BAD FOR HOBIE AND THE BABY! THEN STOP!!!!
Lyla echoed angrily, scaring even Miguel. Gently Miles, with Gwen's help, guided Hobie into the ward, sitting him on the stretcher, only his friends and Miguel were allowed in the room, Lyla darkened the window for the conversation they would have.
- How do you feel, buddy?
Peter was clearly worried, I mean, everyone was.
- Hungry for a peanut butter sandwich.
Miles smiled handing him water serving as support for Hobie to relax.
- Wishes so early? It reminded me of Mary Jane.
Everyone sighed in amusement, the mood lightening. Hobie cleared his throat.
- So... I have a loaf of bread in the oven?
- That was the strangest way anyone has ever referred to a pregnancy.
Pavitr murmured.
- Yes, you are well at the beginning, a little more than 4 weeks.
- Oh... sure.
The silence was interrupted by Miles.
- You knew, didn't you?
- You know I miss the date... from my heat, I just remember when the signs start to appear, my body is so inconsistent when I, love... yesterday I noticed that both the date had passed when and I had no signs .
Again the silence.
- Well...
Everyone looked at Pav.
- We will be uncles!
... Pav's joy, little by little, drew smiles from everyone.
- Why were you so mad, Miguel?
Miles questioned quietly not wanting the conversation about buying for babies to get in the way.
"For a moment I thought the multiverse was going to tear itself apart again, but Lyla would let me know if that was happening... then I just got mad when you implied I'd attack a pregnant omega."
- ...Sorry about that...it was—
- Instinctive?
Peter interrupted with a roguish smile.
- Relax Miles, if anyone can understand that, it's Miguel... Well, I think you two need some time alone—
- But we have to organize the purchase, the christening—
Pav started to be dragged by Peter and Miguel (surprisingly).
- Wait for the baby to be born first, kid.
And she was they two alone... two no... three.
- Sorry.
Hobie raises an eyebrow.
- Can I know more specifically for what, love?
- It is not obvious? I impregnated you!
Hobie can't help but laugh. He was fucked: a 20-year-old rebel/revolutionary anarchist constantly hunted in his dimension had gotten pregnant by an 18-year-old college student from an alternate universe.
- Hm... you think he will have anarchist leanings like Mayday.
Miles shuddered.
- Heavens, I hope not.
Both smiled.
- Let's do it one way.
Purred Miles, Hobie responded with his scent, it being possible to smell a slight difference: the smell of breast milk, typical of a pregnant omega. Leaning back against Miles's shoulder and snuggling into the scent glands there, Hobie sighed.
- I really want that peanut butter sandwich you make, love.
- Ok, I'll make it for you.