Chaz x Striker

Pregnant pt6

Five months later, the abandoned motel room had been transformed into something resembling a home. Old furniture had been patched together, curtains hung where there were once broken blinds, and warm lamps glowed where shadows used to linger. Despite its flaws, it was theirs, and that was what mattered.

Striker sat on the couch, boots lazily kicked off to the side, his hat resting on the armrest. Chaz was beside him, his hands resting protectively over Striker's growing stomach, his usual playful grin softened into something more tender. He loved every second of this—the closeness, the warmth, the quiet moments that were only theirs.

Striker chuckled lowly at something Chaz whispered, but the sound quickly cut off. A sharp twinge spread through his middle, making his whole body tense.

Chaz blinked, immediately alert. "Babe? You okay?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Striker exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. "It's fine... jus' a little pain. Happens sometimes." He tried to shrug it off, but then it hit harder, enough that his hand gripped Chaz's thigh without thinking.

Chaz's heart jumped. "Striker—"

Striker cut him off, voice low but strained. "...Hospital."

Chaz froze, his red eyes going wide. "Wait—what?! You mean—?!"

Striker gave a short, pained laugh, shaking his head as another wave tightened his body. "Yeah, Chaz. I think it's time."

For a second, Chaz was completely still, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then, like a switch flipping, he scrambled into motion—grabbing Striker's boots, his coat, trying to hold him steady and panicking all at once. "Oh shit—oh shit—okay, uh—hospital, yeah, yeah, I can do that—holy crap, it's time."

Striker smirked weakly despite the sweat starting to bead on his brow. "Don't lose your head, Chaz. We'll make it just fine."

But even he couldn't hide the nervous glint in his eyes.

Chaz scooped Striker up in his arms without hesitation—despite Striker's protests of "I can walk, dammit"—and rushed him out to the beat-up old car they had parked outside the motel. The cool night air hit them, but Chaz barely noticed; adrenaline was firing through every inch of him.

He set Striker gently into the passenger seat, fumbling to buckle him in even as Striker bared his teeth with another hiss of pain, his tail rattling against the seat in agitation.

"Hang tight, babe, I got you," Chaz said, darting around to the driver's side. He fired up the engine, the old thing roaring like it was barely hanging on, and peeled out of the lot.

The whole way, Striker was gripping the door handle and his thigh, breathing in sharp, controlled bursts. His silver eyes narrowed, sweat dampening his forehead.

Chaz's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. He was excited, nervous, and terrified all at once. "Oh man, oh man, Striker—this is it! We're actually gonna have 'em! We should call the others—they'll freak out, they'll be so happy—"

Striker hissed between clenched teeth, his voice tight. "Chaz... right now... is not the time!"

Chaz glanced over and saw the rattle of his tail shaking wildly against the seat, the lines of pain creasing his face. He swallowed hard, gripping the wheel tighter. "Right, right, got it—no calls, no distractions. Just... just the hospital."

He pushed the car faster, tires squealing as he took the turn onto the main road, his eyes darting between the road and Striker.

"Hang on, babe. Just a little longer. We're almost there," Chaz muttered, mostly to calm himself, but also because he couldn't stand the silence of Striker's heavy breathing and hissing filling the car.