Damon, Joey, and Victor stood outside the door of Damon's apartment. The hallway was quiet, the sun coming from the windows just starting to lean toward the afternoon. The others from their group had already split off earlier, especially Ash, who left with a swollen lip and a bruised ego.
Victor knocked twice.
The door didn't take long to swing open.
But "swing" wasn't the right word.
It was yanked open, aggressively, like whoever was behind it had been waiting for hours.
Standing there, side by side, were Aoife and Macey.
Damon barely got a word out before both women locked eyes on him, ignoring Joey and Victor like they didn't even exist.
"There he is!" Aoife smiled wide, her arms already pulling Damon in before he could step forward.
Macey was no different, grabbing his other arm, speaking quickly, proud and warm. "My champion! Look at you! My handsome boy!"
Victor, still outside, chuckled under his breath. "Toughest fight he's had all week."
Joey nodded. "Yeah, we ain't getting in that house for a minute."
Inside, both women mothered Damon relentlessly, checking his face, tapping his arms, brushing invisible dirt off his shoulders, acting like he'd just come back from war rather than walking through an arena of thousands.
"You fought beautifully, son," Aoife said, proud and fierce.
"And you called me your mother on live TV," Macey added with a grin like she was never letting that go.
Damon could only shake his head as they guided him further inside.
Joey stepped into the apartment, eyes immediately scanning for Ashley and Theo. He moved toward the living room, where he spotted Ashley sitting on the couch, watching some tv. On the floor near her feet, Theo was playing with a plastic toy truck, babbling to himself.
The moment the little boy looked up and saw Joey, his entire face lit up. "Dada!" he squealed, wobbling to his feet.
Joey grinned and crouched to scoop him up in one smooth motion. "There's my guy," he said quietly, hugging him tight before sitting beside Ashley on the couch. Theo wasted no time settling on his dad's lap, clinging to him like a magnet.
Ashley looked at them both, her smile soft. "He didn't even eat properly without you."
Joey kissed Theo's head. "Guess I'll never be allowed to leave again."
Meanwhile, Victor stepped in behind him, only to be completely ignored by the two older women hovering near the door. He gave Damon a look, one part amused, one part resigned. It was the same cold shoulder Damon had gotten when he proposed to Svetlana without their "blessing."
Victor didn't bother saying anything. He walked off toward the kitchen with a sigh, muttering, "Might as well get some coffee if I'm invisible."
Damon, still standing by the door between Aoife and Macey, was getting showered with nonstop comments, praises about his performance, his sportsmanship, his belt, his heart, even the way he walked into the arena. It was getting to be too much. He had thanked them at least a dozen times already, and they still weren't finished.
So he just stayed quiet now, nodding and smiling as needed.
He gave a small wave toward Ashley and Joey, Theo now curled up on Joey's chest.
But his mind drifted.
'Where's Svetlana?' he thought, scanning the place quietly.
Only after a while, when their flood of words finally slowed, did Aoife and Macey suddenly remember.
"Where's the belt, by the way?" Macey asked, her eyes lighting up like a kid remembering Christmas.
"Yeah, the champion's gold," Aoife added, now expectantly holding out her hands.
Damon didn't even hesitate. He reached down, grabbed the duffel bag sitting near the door, and handed it over without a word. He trusted them not to drop it, or at least he hoped they wouldn't.
The two older women practically snatched it like they were handling a sacred relic, already pulling it out with wide eyes and quiet gasps.
Leaving them to their excitement, Damon made his way toward the living room.
Ashley caught his approach, already guessing what he was about to ask.
"She's in your room," she said before he could even open his mouth. "Knocked out. Poor girl was fighting her own title fight with that back pain earlier."
Damon chuckled quietly, nodding.
Svetlana was deep into the final stages now. Any day could be the day. They had already set up another doctor's appointment to check her progress and go over everything again. It wouldn't be long now.
'She must've been exhausted,' Damon thought, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Damon moved quietly toward their room, his steps naturally lighter, instinctive. He reached for the door handle, twisting it slow, careful not to make any noise. The door creaked only slightly, enough to have him grimace before poking his head through.
Inside, the lights were off, only the faint glow from the hallway lighting the scene.
Svetlana lay diagonally across the bed.
One leg stretched straight, the other bent and propped awkwardly over a pillow. Her arms hugged another pillow to her chest like it was part of her survival kit. The blankets were halfway thrown off, her body working overtime with heat.
She looked peaceful though. Truly peaceful. Soft breaths. No tension on her face.
Damon stepped in fully now, closing the door quietly behind him.
He walked to the bed, sitting gently at the edge, careful not to jostle her.
He watched her for a long second.
Even after everything, the weight, the struggle, the mood swings, the exhaustion, she looked cute.
His eyes shifted lower to her stomach, the curve now fully undeniable. The place holding their child.
And just like that, Damon's smile changed.
It softened completely. Not the grin he gave the cameras, not the cocky smirk before a fight. But something gentler.
Like he was already staring at his kid.
His hand moved on its own, slow, instinctive, like a quiet pull he couldn't resist. He reached out, his palm hovering for a moment before finally pressing softly against her stomach.
But the reaction was immediate.
Svetlana shifted, her body flinching slightly, a sharp inhale through her nose as her instincts kicked in. Even half-asleep, that trained reflex never really left her. Her hand came over instantly, gripping his wrist very firm, like muscle memory before thought.
Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented for half a second, before they landed on him.
Damon raised a brow, trying not to laugh.
Svetlana blinked twice, processing, before she let out a tired sigh, her grip loosening.
"Damon…" Her voice was husky, soft, that sleep-heavy tone only exhaustion gave.
"You scared me," she mumbled, dropping her head back onto the pillow, rubbing her face with the other hand.