Chapter Text
“So, you guys are having another child,” Suzi said between mouthfuls of sandwich. “Are you going to be the Von Trapps?”
“Keep your voice down! The kids don’t know yet.” Caesar looked at them nervously. They were too busy arguing over whether the last frisbee throw was ‘legit’ to pay them any mind. Then he realised. “Hang on. How can you possibly know that? We weren’t telling anyone for another month!”
“He’s not very good at hiding things!” Suzi replied with a giggle.
“How come?” Caesar questioned. Usually, he’d be down for some JoJo-bashing, but right now he felt he should defend his husband’s honour somewhat. This was the father of his children, after all.
“It’s obvious. He’s wearing an actual shirt!”
“And? It’s cold out here!”
Holly hadn’t been convinced by that line, and Suzi certainly wasn’t. Her eyebrow quirk all but confirmed it. “I still remember the snow.”
“I don’t think anyone will forget any time soon. Especially that one alpha who thought he could just come along and touch him however he wanted, and say all those horrible things about me— honestly, the disrespect!”
Caesar’s, shall we say, passionate defence of his territory wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon. That alpha's nose was probably off centre to this day.
“I don’t believe in violence, and even I admit he had it coming. Anyway, the topic at hand. Do you have any names in mind yet?”
“Well, we’ve got William for a boy, after Nonno: Joseph is so certain it’s a boy because of Stand bullshit that we haven’t got any further.”
“Usually I would make fun of him, but he was correct all the other times. I think he might be onto something, God forbid.”
“No, it’s his stand that’s right. He’s still an idiot. A smart idiot, but still an idiot.”
“Somehow, that makes perfect sense.”
The pair went back to eating for a second before a frisbee careered onto their picnic blanket.
“Ah f-rick, missed it!” Joseph shouted, speed-walking towards them. He bent down to pick it up, but before he could get back onto his feet Suzi grabbed the collar of his jacket.
“Normally, you’d dive for that.”
Then she let go, smiling innocently. “Better luck next time!”
The kids hadn’t noticed anything wrong, screaming at Joseph to throw it again. He turned around, giving the siblings one last scowl before sending the frisbee careering towards Holly.
“Not subtle.”
~
Luckily, Joseph’s half of the family were far less perceptive.
“I still have no idea how Jotaro reproduced,” Caesar said as he watched their car pull into Joestar Manor. “How did he even realise Florence was interested in him?”
“To be honest? I have no idea. Keep this between us,” Joseph lowered his voice so the rest of his family couldn’t hear, “but I think they’re getting a divorce. I’m just guessing though.”
“No, everyone thinks that.” Maria had wandered over, now speaking far too loudly for their liking. “At least I do.”
“What makes you think that?” Caesar asked politely. He’d thought they were handling it diplomatically, but apparently not!
“Because my Stand can read thoughts,” she replied indifferently.
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Ok then… what am I thinking right now?” Truthfully, he was thinking of a certain puffy pink dress. Unless Maria was more acquainted with his past than they thought, she had no hope of just guessing it.
A shapeless flying blob manifested around Maria, who let it hover around his head. “It only works sometimes—and it takes a while, so I might be seeing stuff from a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll give you a clue: it’s not something you can guess easily—”
“OH MY GOD!!!” Maria slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes bugging comically. “You’re pregnant!?”
“Ha ha, very funny. What are you actually seeing?”
Joseph was usually good at maintaining a cool outer complexion, and right now was no exception; that didn’t mean he wasn’t panicking. In fact, he was positively melting down. Mercifully, Caesar stepped in.
“Look Maria, I’m sure this is funny to you, but this isn’t the kind of thing you should joke about. This is a human life we’re talking about—”
“No, really! You’re thinking about how the baby’s started ‘showing’ earlier than usual… whatever that means.”
Dio Mio, he’d said that not five minutes ago! His jumper was untucked from when he showed him, hair still ruffled where Caesar had pulled him in for a kiss.
“Maybe it’s a… false reading? Your stand is still developing, after all.”
“It might just be what you want to see, rather than what you’re actually seeing.”
The first trimester of pregnancy was widely considered too early to announce a pregnancy. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong: it was best not to get people’s hopes up. And if secrecy came at the cost of gaslighting their own daughter, then so be it.
“It’s how they make things like Tarot cards and Astrology work: they say things that can apply to anyone so nobody can disagree.” Maria was nodding along.
“Horoscopes don’t tell people they’re pregnant though, do they?” A female voice echoed in the doorway.
“Mum!”
Lisa Lisa strode into the bedroom, the most intimidating person in the room as always. She had sunglasses on indoors.
“Congratulations.”
“Uh— I—”
“How many weeks? Are you showing yet?”
“Can we have this discussion in private?” Caesar asked, staring pointedly at Maria. She scuttled off, vibrating with excitement. “Keep this a secret!” he shouted after her.
Lisa Lisa sat down on the bed, legs outstretched. “We have approximately half an hour before Maria has told everyone in the house. So, tell me what you know.”
~
Their worst fears were confirmed when they walked out the room, and almost tripped on Jolyne sprinting up the corridor.
“Is it true you’re pregnant?” she asked. No preamble, no subtlety. Little kids just say what they think.
They both knew it was pointless to deny it: that’s why they brushed past the girl, not replying. They could explain themselves over Sunday roast.
~
Or not, since Jotaro and Florence chose that time to announce that sadly, they were separating. They were going to remain a team for Jolyne, and still live in the same Florida town and blah blah, nothing they hadn’t already worked out.
At least they’d been given a few more weeks of plausible deniability before they officially announced anything.
~
“Tesoro, we are not naming the child Prince,” Caesar said to Josuke, making the child pout and frown. “We’re not using Diamond either: people would get confused with your Stand!”
By now they’d broken the news; Joseph’s family had done an admirable job at pretending to be shocked. (Except Jonathan. He might actually have been shocked.) Just that day his siblings had called from Italy, arranging to come over once the baby was born. Don’t expect flowers or anything though: you only get presents for the first two kids, one of them had said. Caesar agreed with him.
“I’m home!” Joseph stumbled into the darkened playroom, gave Josuke a kiss, then promptly collapsed onto the most comfortable, beaten-up pleather sofa New York had to offer.
Caesar bent down to kiss his cheek. “You’re home early. The kids aren’t even back from school!”
“It’s paperwork for the rest of the day, and I was getting tired. William is really taking a toll on me,” Joseph groaned, sinking deeper into the stained cushions. “I’m gonna have a nap before starting again.”
Mentioning any kind of relaxation in this house got you the exact opposite result, and right now was no exception, Josuke deciding ‘having a relax’ entailed him climbing onto his father and bouncing maniacally.
“I wanna watch TV!”
Joseph sat up, carefully moving Josuke off his stomach to between his legs. “Well, I want to relax. So, you can either sit here quietly, or watch TV in the main room.”
By some miracle, Josuke decided to curl up on Joseph’s legs like a cat, breathing softly. Yet his hopes of sleeping were immediately dashed by Shizuka crying from the other room.
“Well, she’s up from her nap. You stay there: I’ll feed her.” Caesar darted out the room, grabbing a snack from the side table.
Joseph leaned back, grabbing a cushion to put under his back. It was strange seeing Josuke so still: almost completely silent and nuzzling up against his legs. It was that Joseph noticed his face was covered in weird stripes, smeared around indiscriminately.
“Hey sweetheart… what’s that on your face?” He dragged Josuke’s face onto his knees to have a better look. In the darkened light, it looked like sharpie. Shit, that was gonna be hard to get off.
Josuke didn’t reply, looking guilty. Were the stains from the hidden chocolate sauce? “Just tell me: I promise I won’t be angry.”
Even if he’d wanted to, he didn’t have the energy to shout. He barely had the energy to form coherent sentences. Josuke giggled, giving the most adorable grin. Joseph instinctively went to ruffle his hair but stopped himself last minute. That tiny pomp was his pride and joy; if he dislodged a single hair of it, he’d never hear the end of it from either him or Caesar.
“I found a box under your bed.”
Joseph’s heartrate screeched to a halt. He couldn’t mean their—no, those were locked, thank fuck. What could he mean?
“It was like a, a powder with a mirror on, and the powder was all solid an’ shiny.”
“Like a compact?”
“Wha’s that?”
He’d found the ‘tequila’ box. Great. Just great. He felt like he should be more annoyed, that he should get up and assess the damage, but he felt so comfortable here, so at ease with Josuke in his lap, looking all too happy with himself, that he simply couldn’t. More than likely Caesar would find it first, anyway.
“Did you find anything else in there?”
“Yeah! There was a black pencil, a slippy red tube, and some other stuff that looked boring. The slippy tube was kewl though!”
Well, that explained it. He’d have to get his trousers dry cleaned since they now had red patches around the knees. On the upside, it was easier to scrub makeup off than sharpie.
He pulled Josuke onto his chest, letting their head rest on his shoulder. And as his eyes fluttered closed, feeling his son’s chest rising and falling, he felt content and at peace with the world. Nothing could bother or stir him now.
Until the kids got back from school, naturally. He’d be hard pressed to ignore their – ahem, passionate argument about why Prince was the best/worst name ever. Josuke must have gotten to them, too.
~
When Joseph was pregnant the first time, he’d been self-conscious of the changes to his body. The swollen stomach and softening chest were a dramatic shift from the toned abs and firm pecs he’d always carried beforehand. He remembered how he’d stared in the mirror once he’d started showing with Holly. The shock, the concern, the foreignness of it all. But Caesar had liked these changes; he’d been fascinated, no, enamoured with them. He’d wrapped his hands around his stomach, insisted on dragging him to bed, where he’d lavished attention and love to every part of him, pressed endless kisses and praise onto the parts he’d been so worried about. The first time Joseph had met Caesar, he’d been trying to butter up some random girl, each line as cheesy and insincere as the next. Yet when Caesar said he’d never looked more perfect, he’d meant it; and Joseph had believed it.
For the next six months, his husband had taken every opportunity to pull him aside and simply ravish him. On the counter, the hallway, the bedroom. They’d made a mess on the coffee table at one point, a fact he neglected to mention when he flipped the apartment for a tidy profit. That wasn't to say it was all sunshine and roses though: there was still the morning sickness, and the tiredness, and the weight gain, and that he couldn't go on any of the rollercoasters when the family went to Six Flags. At one point he'd fallen over going for a jog and he was worried he'd have to call the hospital.
But it was when they’d been holding a sleeping baby Holly in their arms, snuggled into bed together, Caesar almost in tears because of how in love he felt, he knew: he couldn’t do this just once.
They’d started trying next heat.
Joseph regretted nothing.
Which is what led them to where they were right now.
“Mhm… you’re every bit as beautiful as I remember. You look so cute carrying my child.” Caesar rubbed his face against Joseph’s neck, spreading his scent there like perfume. Caesar’s scent was wonderful at the best of times, but this far along it was almost intoxicating. Like most people’s scents, Joseph couldn’t describe it exactly: there were too many layers, something so distinct, so uniquely human about it that he couldn’t capture it in mere words. More importantly, most of the time he couldn’t smell it because of Caesar’s obsession with smothering himself in the best soaps and shower creams that New York real estate money could buy. But if he had to assign a real-world equivalent to it, it was kinda nutty. Like roasting almonds over a fire. He’d attributed his craving for the stuff through all his pregnancies to his alpha’s scent, which right now he was intent on gulping down like his life depended on it.
Every little touch Caesar pressed to his scent gland, enclosed by his star birthmark, sent an ache of pleasure through his strained body: when one ministration ended, he was already screaming for the next. It was strange how soreness could feel so addictive, how he craved the overstimulation, the constant edge of pleasure into pain and back into pleasure.
Caesar placed his fingers on Joseph’s thigh, running the tips up and down the exposed skin. Each time edging closer and closer to where he wanted them the most, yet drawing back at the last minute. At one point they met the sensitive skin where crotch met thigh. He dragged them up and down, swiping from the wetness on the sheets—but he didn’t make contact. Even when Joseph clenched his thighs to try and trap his fingers there, he just snatched them out and carried on. Was he trying to drive him crazy? But they couldn’t have penetrative sex this late on, and he could barely bend over to grab a toy from under the bed, so beyond his own fingers, this was all he had. He was inching his good hand closer and closer, rubbing over the public bone, until Caesar noticed what he was up to and threw the hand away.
“Let me take care of that for you.”
Slowly, tantalisingly, he slipped a calloused finger into his cunt. Then another, this one stroking for a few seconds before sliding in with no resistance. After however many months without Caesar’s cock — getting on his knees had become a chore, more like a yoga class than anything erotic — he craved something, anything, that could mimic that sensation, clenching desperately. He felt the fingers twist inside him, rutting up against the ridged section. His other hand clutched at his chest, thumbing at the nipple and brushing away the beginnings of a milk droplet. It felt good. Goooood. Caesar was enjoying himself too, if the hard dick pressing into his side was any indication. Thinking he should reciprocate in some way, Joseph leant over ever so slightly to grasp at him, but Caesar held him in place.
“No. This is about you.” This was accompanied by a long, leisurely stroke of the fingers, with both hands. The left one drew out some slick before sliding back in again. “I want to make you as happy as you make me.”
Joseph whined in protest, continuing his efforts to roll over. “But I’m not doing anything!” He reached out, trying to grapple at Caesar’s naked body.
“Not doing anything—ridiculous! You,” Caesar pressed a kiss onto his neck, “are doing everything for me. Everything.”
“What, lying here and taking it? Letting you do all the work like a pillow princess?”
“You’re doing the most important thing in the world for me right now, and that’s carrying my child. I’ve seen how tired and achy you are after each day, but you’re willing to do it for me. For us.”
Joseph pulled his husband in tighter, feeling his free arm barely wrap around his stomach. He was getting close now, revelling in the deeper and deeper thrusts.
“I love you so much, JoJo.”
“I luh- luv- uh—” His body chose that moment to come, slick coating Caesar’s fingers as he tightened round them; yet they stayed in there for a few seconds after, sending him into hyperstimulation. He damn near squealed as he dragged them out, revelling in the blunt drag of fingernails against his abused walls. And finally, finally, he could roll over and pull his husband into a tight hug, inhaling that feel-good almond scent once more.
“I love you, Caesar.”
~
“You’re not actually calling your kid Prince, right? Cause that’s what Maria said.”
“I think it’s an uh, lovely name.” Ah, Jonathan. Ever the optimist.
“Oh my God, no,” Joseph said halfheartedly, eyes tired, face sweaty.
“Thank fuck. Prince is a stupid ass name.”
“Tell that to Prince the singer: that was his real name. Yep, really.” Caesar stared at the group. "Josuke insists on reminding us constantly."
“Jotaro,” Jonathan chided gently, “I might agree that it’s not a suitable name for a child, but you can’t tell that to someone who’s just given birth!”
The brothers all turned their attention to the nurse walking into the room, screaming baby in hand.
“Congratulations Mr. Joestar, your child is perfectly healthy. 9.5 pounds, 23 inches. We ran the secondary test too: he’s an alpha.”
“Mamma Mia, he’s huge!” Caesar cradled his new son, bouncing their snivelling form in his arms. “I should have expected this: I’ve seen your family.”
“Did you not see me struggling for the last five hours?” Joseph said with mock indignation. They all laughed, more relieved than anything else.
“Do you have a name for the birth certificate?”
They’d prepared for this. “Yes, William.”
“That’s wonderful!” the nurse said, scribbling it down. “Will you be having a middle name?”
They all looked at each other.
“Actually, we didn’t think that far—”
“You said it. Prince.”
Caesar stared at his husband, dumbfounded. “As a legal name?”
“It’s only a middle name, it won’t affect their life. Plus, it means his older siblings had a say in naming him, and isn’t that a funny story?”
Caesar looked at the nurse. Then at his husband. Then at his brothers-in-law. He sighed. “I don’t know if it’s the excitement, or the delirium, or that I’ve been up for two days without a break, and I’m probably going to live to regret this but—sure. William Prince it is.”
“Welcome to the world, William Prince Joestar-Zeppeli.”
Caesar passed the baby to Joseph, who clutched it against his chest.“Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”