You were so screwed. You told him you didn’t need any protection due to your low fertility chances and he stupidly believed you.

You were together, sure. But in no way were you the ‘settle down with a couple kids’ kind of couple. You were dating because of your job, he had suspicions that it wouldn’t work the second you stepped off site together and god forbid moved into a house with one another.

You thought that was all it was going to be, lovers for the sake of blowing off some steam and helping each other through rut/heat cycles with no strings attached.

..Until everything started to smell like sewage and you couldn’t stomach any of the cafeteria food or when you needed to go to the bathroom every thirty minutes regardless of how long you could hold it for; when you needed to go you needed to go. Your body wouldn’t budge on that fact.

Your muscles started to soften up then you’d grown more soft spoken, polite and considerate to the shadows under your command — Feeling a gut wrenching feeling of guilt whenever they’d recoil upon you barking out orders or just being snappy on your bad days.

The positive test result would ruin both of your careers if it ever got out regardless of how much he told you it’d be nice to have a litter of his own one day; you never actually thought you would so you never thought about what could happen.

And he, observant as he was, had no problem in the world catching onto your change in behaviour — Especially when the team had set up camp to take a couple days rest somewhere in the snowy mountains of Montana before you’d be set off for a mission.

He’d found you, keeled over and retching behind a bunch of bushes away from the rest of the camp, doing the one thing you’d tried so hard to hide from the others and him particularly. He just.. stared, confused and concerned but not wanting to intrude.