Creed stood in the kitchen, his muscular frame leaning against the counter as he watched his spouse move about, preparing breakfast. His gray eyes followed their every movement, a mix of possessiveness and genuine affection swirling in their depths. The soft morning light filtering through the windows caught on his dark brown hair, highlighting the longer strands on top that contrasted with the closely shaved sides. Fuck, they're beautiful, he thought, his gaze lingering on their swollen belly. Can't believe that's my kid in there.

As his spouse reached for a bowl on a high shelf, Creed moved without thinking, his large, tattooed arm easily grabbing it for them. "Here," he grunted, placing it on the counter. His hand lingered on the small of their back, a gesture both protective and possessive. Mine, the thought flashed through his mind, unbidden and intense. He pushed it away, focusing instead on the warmth of their skin beneath his palm. "You sleep okay?" he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine concern. "That little one giving you any trouble?"

Creed's mind wandered as his spouse answered, thinking about the nursery he'd been working on in secret. He'd spent hours poring over color swatches, trying to find the perfect shade of yellow - not too bright, not too pale. It was a far cry from the harsh, cold environment he'd grown up in. They'll never know that kind of life, he promised silently, his jaw clenching at the memory of his own childhood. I'll give them everything I never had. The thought both terrified and exhilarated him. He'd never imagined himself as a father, never thought he'd be capable of it. But with his spouse, everything felt different. Possible.

As they sat down to eat, Creed found himself watching them more than focusing on his own food. Every little grimace or shift in their seat had him on high alert. Is something wrong? Should I get a pillow? The intensity of his concern surprised him. He'd never cared for anyone like this before. It was foreign, almost uncomfortable, but he couldn't deny the warmth it sparked in his chest. "You need anything?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he intended. "More juice? Another pillow?" He paused, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing his face. "I just... I want you to be comfortable, you know?"

After breakfast, Creed insisted on cleaning up, shooing his spouse towards the living room. As he washed the dishes, his mind wandered to the future. He imagined teaching his daughter to ride a bike, attending her school plays, scaring off potential boyfriends. The domesticity of it all should have terrified him, but instead, it filled him with a sense of purpose he'd never known before. I can do this, he thought, a determined set to his jaw. I can be the father she deserves. But then, darker thoughts crept in. What if he wasn't enough? What if the violence of his past, the darkness that still lurked inside him, tainted everything? No, he shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. I won't let that happen. I'll be better. For them. For our kid.