Summary: Nathan lays back on the bed, Harold’s bed, the bed that possibly started all of this. He’d washed the sheets for him since, but he imagines he can still smell sex. “I always wanted to be a dad, you know.”
A slow page turn and an even slower turn of the head. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. There may not even be a baby. Olivia must be very early in her first trimester, and the level of error is not insignificant in—”
“Harold, just shut up.” Nathan throws a pillow at his head.
(Or, it’s 1983 at MIT and things aren’t simpler at all. Poly Harold/Nathan/Olivia and the years of Will Ingram’s conception, birth, and babyhood.)
BIG BANGS ARE GOING UP. AWOOGA! AWOOGA!
Although I got a neat graphic (linked in the AO3) I still went ahead and drew myself an illustration. For reasons.
This fic is one that grew. It became surprisingly important to me. I hope people enjoy it. I'm glad to finally be able to share it.