A Room For The Babies.
Xavier.
Moving furniture through a portal should’ve been easy, but apparently, portals don’t like rocking chairs. The damned thing folded sideways halfway through and nearly clipped Haiden in the head.
“Watch it,” he barked, ducking just in time.
“Maybe if you didn’t stand directly in the way,” Levi shot back, his jaw tight as he maneuvered a stack of shelves through like it was a delicate surgery.
Noah chuckled under his breath, arms full of curtains and bedding. “At this rate, the babies are going to come before we finish this nursery.”
I steadied the crib frame in my grip and stepped through into the packhouse. The old guest room we’d cleared out was already humming with potential. The walls glowed faintly, touched by Envy’s magic, as if the house itself already knew it was making space for something new.
We placed the crib first, anchoring it against the far wall beneath the window. Sunlight spilled across the wood, catching on the delicate carvings Envy's Mum had once picked out. I ran my hand over the railing, letting my fingers linger.
“This stays,” I said quietly. “It was meant for her once. Now we need three more here and another three in the Underworld...”
Haiden grunted as he dropped the rocking chair in the corner and tested it with a shove. “Still creaks. Figures.”
“We’ll fix it, and we'll buy more stuff,” Noah said, already unwrapping the blankets and smoothing them across the mattress. Pale blues and soft creams, with tiny embroidered stars. “Feels right, though. Like it belongs here.”
Levi straightened one of the shelves, his usual precision written across every line of his face. “We’ll need another few sets of drawers, too. Four babies don’t exactly share clothes.”
I smirked. “Add it to the list. Along with a mountain of diapers.”
He groaned, already calculating in his head. “Gods help us.”
By the time the last box was carried in, the room had transformed. Curtains swayed gently in the breeze, shelves stacked with folded baby clothes, and the crib sat ready, waiting. I stepped back, crossing my arms as the others stood beside me. For a moment, the four of us were just men, just brothers, staring at the future laid out in wood and fabric and love.
“She’s going to love this,” Noah said softly.
“No,” I corrected, a smile tugging at my lips. “They’re going to love this. Every single one of them.”
Tommy and Aleisha came in shortly after, bringing three more cribs that I'd asked them to retrieve from storage, thanks to Mum hoarding everything of ours. And we began setting up the space for three more babies.
Haiden
I ducked back through the portal with three more boxes tucked under my arm, muttering to myself about how I was officially going soft. When I’d first given Envy the hot-air balloon mobile, I figured it’d just be a sweet little touch for our girl. One. Singular. Now? Four babies meant four cribs, and I’ll be damned if any of them didn’t get their own. The room was quiet when I stepped back in, Xavier and Noah fussing with the bedding, Levi adjusting the shelves like he was lining soldiers up for inspection. They glanced over at me, then at the boxes.
“What’s that?” Noah asked, brow cocked.
“Insurance,” I said, dropping the boxes by the cribs and ripping one open. The soft jingle of tiny glass charms and strings hit the air, and Noah’s face split into a grin.
“You got more?”
“Damn right I did.” I pulled the first mobile free, its delicate balloons painted in muted shades of cream and gold. I carefully positioned it above the crib we’d marked for our girl. The chain clicked into place, and the little balloons swayed gently in the draft. A faint glimmer of light caught the glass, scattering tiny flecks across the wall like starlight.
I leaned on the crib rail, arms folded, staring at it for a beat longer than I should’ve. “She’s going to love this,” I muttered, softer than I intended.
Behind me, Xavier smirked. “You mean they. Four pups, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shaking out the second mobile. This one is in shades of blue and silver. “They’ll all get one.” I hung it above the next crib, then the next, until four tiny skies spun lazily above each bed.
By the time I finished, the nursery looked alive. The balloons swayed gently, catching the light from the window, their shadows dancing across the walls. It wasn’t just furniture anymore. It was theirs. It was home.
Levi muttered under his breath, “You’re spoiling them already.”
I just grinned, brushing my hands together. “Damn right I am.”
I heard her footsteps before I saw her. Slow, careful, soft against the wood, but she always carried this presence that pulled me like a magnet. Envy stepped into the doorway, her hand resting on the frame, eyes wide as they swept across the nursery. I stayed back a second, arms crossed, to watch her see it. Four cribs lined the wall in a neat row, each one already claiming its own personality. The first was painted a soft blush with tiny flowers carved into the rail, our girls. The one I’d hung the gold and cream balloons above, the light spilling over her crib like dawn itself. Next to it, her brother’s crib stood in deep blue, sturdy and solid, with silver hot-air balloons swaying above like a night sky. The third was forest green, bold and steady, with muted bronze charms catching the light. The last was a rich, warm amber, the mobile above it painted in copper and cream, glowing like autumn leaves in the sun.
Between them all, we’d scattered small shelves already stacked with toys, folded blankets, and little stacks of onesies that Levi had folded with soldier’s precision. A rocking chair sat angled near the window, cushions plush and ready, a soft knitted throw draped across the back. The walls were still bare, but I could already picture them alive with drawings, paintings, and photos. Envy’s lips parted, her hand lifting instinctively to her bump as she took it all in. Her eyes shimmered, bright and wet, but she smiled, the kind of smile that said we’d gotten it right.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, stepping into the room, brushing her hand over the nearest crib rail. She looked at each one in turn, then turned back to us with a grin. “Okay, that’s one nursery down… now we need another for the Underworld.”
I barked out a laugh, already shaking my head. Of course, she’d say that.
Levi, without missing a beat, just adjusted a mobile so it hung straighter and muttered, “I’ll duplicate it. Perfectly. One snap and the Underworld has its own.”
Noah snorted, leaning against the rocking chair. “That’s great and all, but what about Macey? That girl needs her own room, too."