Seven’s office had always been the least unpleasant place in the medical wing.
That was mostly because Seven was the person everyone requested when they wanted an actual conversation instead of being surrounded by six specialists who behaved as though a mildly abnormal blood result represented a declaration of war.
Officially, Seven handled their general medical care.
Unofficially, he was the person who knew enough across several disciplines to decide which member of the medical board needed to become someone else’s problem.
More importantly, he was polite.
The rest of the board regarded politeness as an inefficient use of consultation time.
Dean sat on the examination bed near the windows with the sleeves of his black shirt pushed above his elbows while morning light reflected from snow across the courtyard outside.
Arion stood beside him.
Far too close.
One hand rested around Dean’s waist beneath the loose fabric of his shirt, and vetiver lingered around them in a dense layer that Arion was apparently convinced qualified as controlled.
Seven entered while reading something on his tablet, took one look at the pair of them, and stopped.
His gaze dropped to Arion’s hand.
Then to Dean.
Dean sighed.
"Don’t say anything."
Seven placed the tablet on the desk.
"I was going to ask whether he intends to remain attached to you for the entire appointment."
Arion answered before Dean could.
"Yes."
Dean looked up at him.
Seven merely nodded, apparently deciding that fighting the strongest instincts of a newly informed prospective father was not worth his morning.
"Fine."
A nurse entered with the blood-draw equipment.
Arion’s attention followed her immediately.
Dean noticed.
"So help me, if you glare at the needle—"
"I’m not glaring."
"You are monitoring it aggressively."
The nurse, who had treated them often enough to possess excellent survival instincts, kept her expression neutral while fastening the tourniquet around Dean’s arm.
Seven opened Dean’s medical record.
"Any pain?"
"No."
"Bleeding?"
"No."
"Dizziness or fainting?"
"No."
"Nausea?"
Dean hesitated.
Arion did not.
"He stopped eating eggs yesterday."
Dean turned toward him. "Because they smelled terrible."
Seven typed something.
"That counts."
"It was one breakfast."
"Food aversion is still useful."
Arion looked faintly vindicated.
Dean pointed at him with his free hand.
"This is exactly what I was worried about."
"You became pregnant without telling the medical board," Seven said.
"I didn’t know."
"They will consider that an administrative detail."
The needle went in.
Arion’s hand tightened against Dean’s waist.
Dean looked at it.
Then at his husband.
"You understand they are taking blood, not harvesting an organ."
"I understand."
Seven glanced over.
"Do you?"
Arion ignored him.
The nurse finished quickly, taped cotton over the puncture, and left with several labeled tubes.
Dean rubbed his arm.
"That was surprisingly civilized."
"You are currently with me," Seven reminded him.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Should I be afraid of the others?"
"Yes."
At least he was honest.
Seven stepped closer and began the actual examination.
Temperature. Blood pressure. Pulse. Gland response. Pheromonal stability.
Nothing dramatic.
Arion watched every movement.
When Seven touched the scent gland beneath Dean’s jaw, he paused.
"There is definitely a change."
Dean looked toward Arion.
His husband’s expression immediately became I told you so without a single muscle moving enough to justify it.
Dean resented him anyway.
"You noticed it for two weeks?"
Arion nodded.
"Warmer. Sweeter."
Seven examined Dean’s other gland.
"That fits."
"With pregnancy?" Dean asked.
"Potentially. Everyone’s profile shifts differently. There is no reason Arion would recognize it as pregnancy specifically when he has never smelled you pregnant before."
Dean glanced at him.
Arion’s thumb moved once against his side.
"He just knew something changed."
"Yes."
Seven stepped back.
"That is considerably less mystical than both of you seem determined to make it."
Dean smiled.
Arion did not.
The preliminary blood results returned while Seven reviewed the three home tests Dean had brought with him in a small paper bag because apparently Arion had insisted physical evidence needed to travel with them.
Seven checked the screen.
"Confirmed."
Dean’s chest tightened.
Arion became utterly still beside him.
"Pregnancy markers are positive and consistent with a very early pregnancy. Nothing in the first values concerns me."
Dean released a breath.
"How early?"
"I’m not giving you an exact estimate from one set of blood work."
Dean looked toward Arion.
"See? Polite."
Seven lifted an eyebrow.
"I can become less polite."
"Please don’t. You’re the only one we have."
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of Seven’s mouth.
Then he sat behind his desk and turned the tablet toward them.
"Now we discuss what happens next."
Arion immediately pulled the chair closer to Dean instead of taking the one across from Seven.
Dean watched him.
"You are literally moving furniture to remain within touching distance."
"Yes."
There was no shame anywhere in that answer.
Dean gave up.
Seven continued.
"Today confirms that you are pregnant. It does not replace proper obstetric care."
Dean grimaced. "Here it comes."
"You need a gynecology appointment."
"Reasonable."
"Preferably within the next few days. They will establish gestational age properly, confirm implantation, assess baseline reproductive health, and determine when imaging is useful rather than doing it too early simply because Arion looks prepared to dismantle my office until somebody shows him an ultrasound."
Dean turned.
Arion looked completely unoffended.
"That was accurate."
"I know."
Seven scrolled farther.
"Then more laboratory work."
Dean stared at him.
"You just took half my blood."
"We took four tubes."
"It felt personal."
"It is going to become more personal."
Dean’s suspicion increased.
"How much more?"
Seven leaned back.
"Full pregnancy baseline. Expanded hormones. Nutritional markers. clotting, thyroid, renal, and hepatic function, inflammatory markers, detailed gland profile, compatibility screening for pregnancy-related pheromonal changes, and several additional tests because your pregnancy was not planned through the medical board."
Dean went silent.
Arion looked interested.
Dean did not like that.
"What does that last part have to do with anything?"
Seven’s expression became almost sympathetic.
"The board is paranoid."
"I know."
"And vindictive."
Dean blinked.
Arion’s mouth curved.
Seven continued with perfect professionalism.
"If you had informed them six months ago that you intended to try for a child, they would have built baseline data first."
"We didn’t intend to."
"Yes."
"So?"
"So now they will compensate by ordering everything they wish they already possessed."
Dean stared.
"That sounds like punishment."
"It is medically justified punishment."
Arion actually laughed.
Dean turned toward him.
"You are enjoying this?"
"You ignored the medical board."
"So did you."
"I was unaware."
"So was I."
Seven raised one hand before the argument could develop.
"Neither of you did anything wrong. The pregnancy was unplanned. The board will simply behave as though the absence of advance laboratory data is a personal insult."
Dean looked at the ceiling.
"I hate all of you."
"You say that now," Seven said. "Wait until obstetrics requests serial panels."
Dean’s head snapped back down.
"Serial?"
Arion’s hand slid over Dean’s thigh reassuringly.
Dean slapped it.
"Do not look pleased. They are going to test you too."
Arion’s expression changed.
Seven nodded.
"Yes."
Dean smiled immediately.
"Oh, excellent."
"Paternal baseline, pheromonal profile, relevant genetic screening, and likely updated compatibility work."
Arion looked toward Seven.
"How much blood?"
Dean leaned closer.
"Enough."
Seven ignored both of them.
"After the first obstetric assessment, the board will decide how closely they want to monitor the pregnancy. Given who you are, I expect the answer to be excessively."
Dean sighed.
"Of course."
"You are a dominant omega carrying the child of a sigma heir while both of you routinely ignore reasonable limits and insert yourselves into security crises."
Dean opened his mouth.
Seven raised a finger.
"No."
Dean closed it again.
Arion looked almost amused.
Seven finished entering the referrals.
"For today: eat normally, hydrate, take the supplements I prescribe, avoid unnecessary risk, and call immediately for pain, bleeding, fainting, persistent vomiting, fever, or anything that concerns you."
Arion nodded before Dean could.
Dean looked at him.
"You are going to become unbearable."
"I already was."
"That is disturbingly self-aware."
Seven handed Dean the referral summary.
Arion took it first.
Dean stared.
"That is mine."
"Ours."
"You have become worse in less than two hours."
"Yes."
Again, no shame.
Arion slipped the papers into the inside pocket of his coat, then rested one hand against Dean’s lower back as Dean stepped down from the examination bed.
Seven watched them for a moment.
"Obstetrics tomorrow morning. Additional labs afterward."
Dean groaned.
"And congratulations."
That stopped both of them.
Seven’s expression softened just slightly.
It was probably why everyone preferred him.
Dean smiled.
"Thank you."
Arion’s hand tightened around his waist.
They had barely reached the door when Seven added, "And Dean?"
Dean glanced back.
"I strongly recommend you tell the medical board yourselves before they discover it through the system."
Dean stared at him.
"Why?"
Seven looked almost amused.
"Because they are already going to be offended."
Dean closed his eyes.
Apparently pregnancy came with a child, Arion becoming violently possessive, and an entire medical board preparing revenge through laboratory orders.
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