The batfam is sick! Good thing the best doctor in Gotham is on the case!
Word Count: 3,702
💮Masterlist💮
"Oh my poor babies," you muttered as you marched into the manor's large kitchen.
Your six year old daughter Martha sat at the counter nibbling an apple you cut for her earlier.
"Everyone is sick Mama?" she rubbed her temples, an action she got from watching you. "That really sucks."
You almost laughed at your little girls honesty and obliviousness. The culprit of this whole snotty infestation couldn’t stop clinging to her big brother Dick when he was leaving with his siblings for an extensive group mission. Dick caught her flu, and passed it along to everyone. The harsh winter weather and everyone insisting they were fine, resulted in a lot of sick vigilantes.
You, Bruce, and Alfred were spared since you three were at home helping Martha feel better and disinfecting every inch of the Manor. But now you three needed to take care of more flu victims that were quarantining at the Manor. Sending them back to their teams bases would just spread the flu to more people.
Your body moved on auto pilot as you quickly thought of your game plan. Little Martha watched you put on your apron and pull out a pen and notepad. You rapidly scribbled meals and ingredients, leaving the notepad every so often to look through the fridge and cabinets. A focused scowl plastered on your face as you moved.
Martha sniffled, her voice cracking as she spoke. “We have to help them, Mama. They need a doctor! They need you!”
You looked at her teary eyed face and rushed over to her. You bent down to her eye level and gently took her tiny hands in yours.
"I can't help them like a doctor does honey. I'm a pharmacist. So I work with medicine. You know the nasty stuff daddy and I gave you when you were sick," Martha nodded. "That's what I work with. Doctors tell you that your sick, and they talk to me, so I can give their patients the medicine they need to feel better. Does that make sense?"
Martha gave a firm nod. "So…we need to get a doctor to say they're sick…and the doctor makes you make them feel better."
"Something like that, yeah."
Suddenly Martha's face lit up. “I’ll get my kit!” She hopped off the stool and ran off, leaving you a little confused.
But when she came back a few minutes later, all of your questions were answered. Martha walked in with her doctor play set. The kit came in a large plastic suitcase on wheels, and came with a children's doctor coat, a mask, and 30 play pieces.
She stopped in front of you, a large triumphant smile on her face. "Doctor Martha is here!"
Just then, Bruce shuffled in — sweats, hoodie, hair slightly mussed, empty mug in his hand. The world’s greatest detective looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a century.
"And daddy can be my nurse," Martha declared.
Bruce turned around, "Huh?"
Bruce knocked on Dick’s door with the practiced patience of a man who hadn't already received twenty-seven texts from Dick that morning. He wore his fluffy white robe as his doctors coat, and a black surgical mask on his face. Martha stood beside him, doctor kit rolling behind her, doctors coat buttoned to the top, mask slightly askew, and play clipboard clutched with Hello Kitty paper close to her chest.
“Come in,” Dick croaked, voice rasping like he’d swallowed gravel.
He was a mess. Hair everywhere, wrapped in two blankets, a cold pack sliding down his forehead. One arm hung dramatically over the side of the bed.
Martha gasped. “Oh no! He’s very sick, Daddy.”
Bruce nodded gravely. “Critical condition.”
Dick peeked an eye open. “Is that my favorite doctor?”
Martha marched forward. “Yes! Doctor Martha Wayne. And this is Nurse Bruce Daddy.”
Dick grinned weakly. “You brought backup. Good. I wasn’t sure I’d make it.”
Bruce took out his phone and dialed your number. He put it on speaker.
“Hey, Doctor Wayne,” your voice came through the line, cheerful and steady. “How’s the patient?”
“Hi, Mama!” Martha chirped. “He’s very hot and sweaty,” Martha reported, pressing her toy thermometer to Dick’s forehead. “And his hair’s going crazy. That means fever.”
Bruce added, deadpan: “Fever of one hundred and… dramatic.”
Dick stuck his tongue out at Bruce and readjusted his ice pack.
You chuckled. “Understood. Doctor Martha, what do you think he needs?”
“Soup, juice, and snuggles,” she said decisively.
“Prescription approved,” you said. “Pharmacy will prepare chicken noodle and vegetable juice. Nurse Bruce Daddy, make sure he doesn’t leave bed.”
“Copy that,” Bruce said.
Dick pouted. "I don't like vegetable juice!"
You said a firm "Too bad." and hung up the phone.
"Who made her the boss?”
Bruce tucked one of the blanket around him, “Her doctorate.”
Martha peeled a sparkly unicorn sticker from her kit and stuck it carefully on Dick’s hand.
“There. That’ll make you brave. Because uniforms are brave."
Dick smiled, small and soft. “Already working, Doc.”
As they stepped out, Bruce texted you:
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Dick is stable. Diagnosis: severe silliness, light fever, 80% improvement after sticker treatment.
Your reply came quick.
From : "My Home ❤️": Pharmacy delivery driver (Alfred) will deliver chicken noodle soup in 20 minutes. Next patient.
Bruce glanced down the hall where the rest of the manor waited in various stages of misery. He sighed, adjusting the toy stethoscope hanging from his neck.
“Come on, Doctor. We’ve got a long day ahead.”
Martha grinned, tugging his hand. “Let’s save more people, Nurse Bruce Daddy.”
The next door was half-closed, a low voice grumbling from inside.
“Come in if you dare,” Jason muttered, muffled by a pillow.
Martha didn’t hesitate. She pushed the door open, tiny doctor coat flapping dramatically. “Doctor Martha Wayne, reporting for duty!”
Jason groaned. “Oh no, they sent the tiny one.”
Bruce followed her in, phone in hand, expression neutral. “Nurse Bruce Daddy assisting.”
Jason peered up from his blanket cocoon. “You’re kidding me.”
Bruce started typing, voice flat. “No, but I will be documenting your symptoms for [Name].”
Marta climbed onto the edge of the bed, stethoscope around her neck, eyes sharp with professional focus. “How are you feeling, big brother Jay?”
He coughed once, wet, deep, and chesty. “Fine.”
She gasped. “Ew! That cough is not fine!” She pressed the plastic stethoscope against his chest, listening intently to absolutely nothing. “Hmm. Your heartbeat sounds… spicy.”
Jason squinted. “Spicy?”
“That means you’ve been eating too many chili dogs,” she said with great authority.
Jason's eyes narrowed at his sister. "Who told you!?"
Bruce called your phone immediately.
"Status report," you asked with a tone too playful to be completely stern.
"Doctor reports patient has "spicy heartbeat.” Likely due to diet of street food and vengeance," Bruce reported.
"Incorrect," Jason weakly pointed at a shaky finger at Bruce. "Street food and spite. Vengeance is your thing."
You let out an amused huff on the other line. "Understood. Prescription: extra-large super green smoothie and no chili dogs until he gets better."
Jason sat up. “Wait, no chili dogs? Don't I need, like, protein or something?"
Unfortunately for Jason, you already hung up before you could listen to his objections.
Martha scribbled on her clipboard, tongue poking out as she wrote. “What Mama says goes.”
Jason sighed, slumping back. “You're brutal like mama.”
Martha patted his arm. “That’s because I care.” She reached into her kit and produced a bright red sticker shaped like a lightning bolt. “You’re strong like Flash. You’ll feel better soon.”
Jason looked at it for a long moment before peeling it carefully off and sticking it on his bedside table lamp. “Thanks sis.”
As they left, Bruce sent one last text:
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient grumpy but compliant. Sticker therapy successful. Moral high.
From: "My Home ❤️": Sounds like you . Next.
Martha tugged Bruce’s hand toward the next hallway. “Come on, Nurse Bruce Daddy! We still have a lot of sickies to fix!”
Bruce smirked faintly. “Lead the way, Doctor.”
The door to Tim’s room was cracked open, the faint glow of a laptop screen flickering inside. Bruce sighed before even knocking. “He’s working,” he muttered.
Martha frowned. “He’s supposed to be resting!”
She pushed the door open and marched straight in, the toy stethoscope bouncing against her chest. “Patient Timmy!” she announced. “You are not allowed to do science when you’re sick!”
Tim turned in his desk chair, coffee mug in his hand, dark circles practically engraved under his eyes. “It’s not science, it’s—”
“Work,” Bruce finished sternly. “Is that coffee!?”
Martha let out a high pitched gasp. "I'm telling Mommy!"
Tim slumped. “Traitor!”
"Get him to bed Nurse Bruce Daddy!"
Bruce didn't hesitate. He rushed towards Tim, but Tim was stubborn. He jumped out of his chair and used it as a shield. "Cut it out Bruce! I'm fine!"
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Bruce pulled the chair away from Tim and tossed it to the side.
Tim lunged towards his bed and clumsily wrapped his duvet around his shoulders. "I'm in bed! I'm in bed! Layoff Nurse Terminator!"
Bruce gave a stern nod and went to pick up Tim's chair. Meanwhile Martha climbed into Tim's bed, wooden tongue depressor in her hand. "Say ahh Timmy."
"Okay, just not too far Martha. I almost threw up last time."
"Okay."
Tim opened his mouth, letting Martha slowly and carefully press his tongue down with the depressor. Tim was patient as she examined the inside of his mouth for…something.
Martha nodded like she suddenly got all the answers she needed. She dropped the depressor on Tim's bed and started scribbling on her clipboard.
Tim leaned over to see what she was writing. "Is it serious doctor?"
Martha didn’t look up from her clipboard. “Yes. Yucky breath and tired eyes.”
Tim groaned into his blanket. “Ruthless.”
Bruce thumbed his phone.
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Timmy diagnosed with ‘yucky breath and tired eyes.’
The reply came fast.
From: "My Home ❤️": Italian meatball soup, lots of water, and mint mouthwash before anyone else suffers.
Tim pulled the duvet higher over his head. “Tell Mom I’m not talking to her anymore.”
Martha smiled proudly, setting a panda sticker on his nightstand. “He’s getting better already.”
Cass’s door was closed, soft music humming from a speaker on the other side. She sat cross-legged on her bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, eyes closed as she breathed slowly through a sore throat because her stuffed up nose wouldn't allow something as silly as breathing.
Martha peeked in, whispering, “We have to be quiet, Nurse Bruce Daddy. She’s sleeping sitting up.”
Cass’s lips curved into a small smile. “Not sleeping,” she rasped gently.
Martha crept closer. “Hi, Cass. I’m Doctor Martha. You don’t feel good?”
Cass shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “No I don't Doctor Martha. Can you help me?”
Martha pulled out her trusty clip board. "What are your symptoms?"
"Sore throat. Stuffy nose. And I'm really tired."
Bruce stayed by the doorway, pulling out his phone.
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Cassandra reports fatigue, sinus congestion, and sore throat. Calm and cooperative.
The reply came a moment later.
From: "My Home ❤️": Apple cinnamon oatmeal with honey. Tell Doctor Martha to be extra gentle with her big sister.
Martha reached into her kit, placing a toy thermometer against Cass’s cheek. “Hmm,” she murmured. “You’ve got the sleepies. But don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”
Cass watched her little sister with patient amusement. “Sleepies, huh?”
“Yup. Doctor’s orders — oatmeal, snuggles, and a nap.” Martha opened her case and pulled out a small stuffed axolotl and gave it to Cass. Next she peeled a gold star sticker from her clipboard and pressed it gently to Cass’s shoulder. “For being the quietest patient ever.”
Cass signed thank you, her movement small and soft. Martha brightened and awkwardly mirrored the sign back, making Cass’s eyes glimmer with pure affection.
Bruce sent one last text before pocketing his phone.
To: "My Home ❤️": Stuffy deployed. Sticker therapy successful. Patient Cass resting.
From: "My Home ❤️": Good job! Previous patients received food and medicine. I eagerly await another update.
Cass reached over to squeeze Martha’s tiny hand. “Good doctor,” she whispered.
Bruce knelt beside her and whispered, “You’re four for four, Doctor. Who’s next?”
Martha’s eyes lit up. “Steph! She’s a silly patient. We have to hurry!”
Martha knocked three times before kicking open the door. “Doctor Martha Wayne!” she announced grandly. “House call!”
Steph, bundled up in a mountain of purple blankets, peeked over the top with mock fear. “Oh no, the doctor’s here! Everyone hide the candy!”
Bruce followed her in, phone already out with you on the other line. “Patient appears conscious and sarcastic.”
“Symptom confirmed,” you said seriously, the sound of a knife cutting something on the other line.
Steph laughed, voice hoarse but light. “You’re getting good at this, kiddo.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come on, Doc. You better check my vitals before I die of boredom.”
Martha climbed up, pulling out her toy stethoscope and placing it on Stephs back. “Okay. Deep breaths.”
Steph exaggerated it, huffing like she was blowing up a balloon. Martha nodded gravely and tapped her pen. “Diagnosis: funny lungs.”
You paused your food cutting. "So patient Stephanie exhibits excessive humor and mild congestion. Got it. Prescription: chicken and dumplings, orange juice."
Bruce dipped his chin once in acknowledgment. "Better add one less joke per minute to her prescription."
Steph blew a raspberry at Bruce. “You and [Name] are no fun.”
Martha gasped. “You can’t talk back to the pharmacy!”
Bruce added, “That’s an automatic fine.”
Steph chuckled, her laugh turning into a cough. Martha instantly reached for her toy thermometer and pressed it to Steph’s forehead. “You’re hot!” she blurted, eyes wide.
Steph smirked. “Thanks, I know.”
Martha blinked, confused. “No, I mean your head! You have a fever!”
Steph’s laughter broke into another cough, and Martha’s little hand flew to her back, rubbing in small circles. “Careful! You’re gonna choke on your funny!”
Bruce spoke into his phone. "Patient laughing through cough. Doctor applied small-hand comfort technique."
A kitchen timer rings mid-call. "Ah, the next round of food is done. Tell Doctor Martha she’s doing wonderfully. And remind Steph to drink her water."
Steph retreated back into her cocoon, only her sweaty forehead visible. "Yes ma'am."
Martha tore off a shiny purple cat sticker and stuck it right on Steph’s forehead. “For bravery and too many jokes.”
Steph gave her a weak salute through her blankets. “Best doctor I’ve ever had.”
Martha giggled and hopped off the bed. “Next patient, Nurse Bruce Daddy!”
"Yes Doctor Martha."
Martha didn’t even knock this time. She flung Duke’s door open like a superhero making an entrance. “Doctor Martha Wayne! And Nurse Bruce Daddy!”
Duke sat in the middle of his bed, oversized hoodie on, and a box of tissues balanced on his lap. “Wow, I got the A-team,” he said, voice stuffy but amused.
“You sure did,” Bruce replied, tone flat but eyes warm. “Let's get to work doctor.”
Martha squinted, studying Duke like a detective at a crime scene. “You sound funny.”
“Because my nose is broken,” Duke said with a sniff.
Martha gasped. “You broke your nose!?”
Duke chuckled. “I mean it’s stuffy.”
“Ohhh.” Martha nodded sagely and pulled a toy otoscope from her kit. “Hold still. Doctor Martha will fix it.”
Duke leaned forward obediently while she shined her little plastic light up his nose. “Hmm,” she hummed, dead serious. “Too much nastiness in there.”
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Duke experiencing nasal congestion. Doctor’s official diagnosis: ‘too much nastiness.’
Duke waved to Bruce to catch his attention. "Tell [Name] my head is pounding from the congestion."
Bruce did what he was asked, and got a text from you minutes later.
To: "My Home ❤️": Administer Pedialyte with emergency congestion and headache medicine set for immediate Alfred delivery. And tell our doctor she’s brilliant.
Martha beamed as Bruce read the text aloud. “See? Mommy thinks I’m smart!”
Duke gently pat Martha's head. “I’d trust you with my life, Doc.”
She reached into her kit and handed him a bright yellow sticker shaped like the sun. “For being the sunshine brother.”
He smiled, pressing it to his hoodie. “Best sticker ever.”
Bruce typed one more note.
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Duke stable, morale high. Sunshine sticker issued.
Duke raised an eyebrow. “You’re really into this, huh?”
Bruce smiled and shrugged. “Doctor’s orders. And I wanted to make sure everyone's okay.”
Duke looked down at his hands, trying to use his hood to hide his bashful smile. "Thanks Bruce. I appreciate that."
Martha clapped her hands together. “Only one left!”
Bruce glanced down the hall toward the last closed door. “Damian.”
Martha nodded with determination. “He’s the grumpiest patient of all. We have to be brave, Nurse Bruce Daddy.”
Bruce sighed, resigned. “Lead on, Doctor.”
The door to Damian’s room was shut tight, a hand-written note taped to it: DO NOT ENTER.
Martha squinted at it. “He’s scared,” she said defiantly.
Bruce deadpanned, “That’s one interpretation.”
She knocked anyway. “Doctor Martha Wayne! Open up! I have to tell mommy you're sick and give you medicine!”
A muffled voice shot back, sharp as a blade: “Leave the cure by the door. I require no assistance.”
Martha stomped her foot. “He’s refusing treatment!”
Bruce sighed. “He’s refusing everything.”
She turned the handle and pushed the door open before he could stop her.
Damian stood near his desk, arms crossed, sword propped within reach—because of course it was. Titus lay nearby, ears back like he’d already accepted defeat. Damian’s voice was hoarse, his nose red, but his posture screamed battle-ready.
“I’m fine,” he said curtly.
“You’re sniffly,” Martha countered, marching right up to him with her toy thermometer in her right hand, and her toy otoscope in her left.
“That’s not a medical term.”
“You're not a doctor! You don't know!”
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Damian still in denial. Sword present. Proceeding with caution.
A second later:
From: "My Home ❤️": Be careful. Apply stubbornness-countermeasures. Preparing emergency grilled cheese and tomato soup. Administer stealth affection STAT!
“Sit,” Martha ordered, pointing at his bed.
Damian scoffed. “You are not qualified to give orders.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “She has more medical experience than you do, son.”
“Because I trained with assassins, not—” Damian let out a hard sneeze, knocking the wind out of him so hard that he went into a coughing fit.
Martha pointed a finger at her brother dramatically. “Evidence! You are sick!”
He scowled. “That was dust.”
“There’s no dust in my patient rooms,” she said firmly, stepping closer to him and holding out her plastic thermometer. “Hold still!”
Damian dodged left. “I will not.”
She huffed, trying again. “Hold still or I’ll tell Mommy!”
Bruce said slowly, “That’s an effective strategy.”
Damian froze mid-step. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Martha tightened her grip on her thermometer. "Yes. I. Would."
Bruce jumped towards Damian, embracing the boy in a tight bear hug. "Gotcha."
Damian wiggled is shoulders and kicked his feet, but his congestion left him weak and breathless. He gave up his fight almost as soon as he started. He dangled helplessly as Martha stared up at her helpless brother.
Damian looked back at her, his expression somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. "This isn't care! This is tyranny!”
She scribbled on her clipboard. “Diagnosis: very dramatic. Needs puppy snuggles.”
Damian sighed heavily. “Fine. Administer whatever treatment you deem necessary. Quickly.”
Bruce released his hold. When Damian silently climbed into bed, Bruce typed one last note:
To: "My Home ❤️": Patient Damian finally compliant. Diagnosis: dramatic fever and acute denial.
From: "My Home ❤️": Good work. I knew I could count on you.
Martha beamed, placing a tiny dinosaur sticker on his wrist. “For being brave and only a little grumpy.”
Damian studied it like it was radioactive, then muttered, “Tch. It’s acceptable.”
Titus barked once, tail thumping on the wood floor.
Bruce crouched beside his daughter. “That’s all the patients, Doctor.”
Martha jumped, proud smile still in place. “We did it.”
“You did,” Bruce said softly, kissing the top of her head. “Now let’s report back to the pharmacy. And tell mommy the good news."
For the first time all day, you weren’t juggling medicine bottles, boiling pots, or a buzzing phone. You sat curled up on the living room couch, a thick blanket on your lap, tea steaming between your hands, firelight flickering against the walls.
Alfred had taken care of the final deliveries himself — insisting that Doctor Martha’s patients deserved proper presentation. He’d left the soup trays and medicine bottles neatly arranged on a rolling cart and disappeared down the hall like the guardian of a very tired hospital ward.
A few minutes later, the familiar tread of heavy steps echoed across the floor. You looked up as Bruce appeared in the doorway — hoodie rumpled, hair even more of a mess, and your daughter fast asleep on his shoulder. Her tiny doctor’s coat was crooked, her mask off, and her stethoscope and clipboard securely in Bruce's free hand.
“She insisted on checking Alfred one more time, even though he wasn't sick,” Bruce murmured, voice low so she wouldn’t wake. “Declared him fully cured.”
You smiled. “And what about you, Nurse Bruce Daddy?”
His mouth curved faintly. “Completely healthy.”
“Good,” you said softly, patting the couch beside you. “Because I’m prescribing rest, cuddles, and cookies.”
He set Martha gently in your lap, her tiny hands instantly finding you. “Mission complete,” she mumbled into your shoulder, half-dreaming. “All better.”
You gently kissed her head, your heart full of love and content. “Best doctor in Gotham.”
Bruce’s gaze softened. “No arguments here.” He carefully sat close to you. Allowing you to smoothly cuddle into his side.
You leaned into him as the fire cracked softly, the manor finally still — every tick of the clock a small, steady heartbeat of peace.
Ms. Beyonce has me by the neck again my obsession is back full force.
Description : Michael finally gets his 18 kids + 2 more, the actions in the song are how the kids got here.
People used to laugh whenever Michael said it.
"Eighteen kids?" Jermaine would nearly die laughing. (Like he doesn’t have ten)
"Mama, come get your son. He done lost his mind."
Jackie would shake his head.
"Boy... you gon' be lucky if you find ONE woman willing to deal with you."
Michael would only shrug and smile.
"I don't know"
"I just always wanted a house full of people."
"A lot of laughter."
"A lot of love."
His brothers thought it was just another one of Michael's dreams.
Until he met you.
You were sixteen.
He was sixteen.
The first time he saw you walking through school, he completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
Marlon caught him staring.
"Mike."
No response.
"Michael."
Still nothing.
Jermaine looked over.
"...OHHH."
He followed Michael's line of sight.
"There it is."
Jackie sighed.
"Poor girl."
"What?
What do you mean by that?"
Jermaine just smiled.
"You already gone."
— – – — – – —
You actually talked to him first.
"You know"
"I think you're supposed to be walking that way."
Michael looked behind him.
"I am?"
"You've been standing here for like three minutes."
His face immediately flushed.
"Oh."
"I'm... sorry."
You laughed.
"No, it was cute."
That one sentence stayed in Michael's head for weeks.
By senior year, everybody already knew.
If Michael wasn't at rehearsal.
He was with you.
If you weren't in class
You were probably somewhere sitting with Michael.
A few years later, his solo album really took off, off the wall, and with that came;
Wedding bells.
Everybody cried.
Especially Michael.
-------------------------
Baby #1
The moment you told Michael
He just stared.
"...Really?"
You nodded.
"We're having a baby."
He wrapped you in the biggest hug imaginable.
"I’m gonna be a dad, I'm gonna do it right, I promise."
When everybody found out
Katherine started crying immediately.
"My first grandbaby!"
“MOMMA!”
“I meant from Michael, don't twist your draws up.”
She hugged both of you so tightly neither of you could breathe.
Jackie laughed.
"Already?"
"We've been married over a year."
Marlon shrugged.
"I know."
"Still fast."
Jermaine slapped Michael on the shoulder.
"You'd better start practicing changing diapers."
Michael was obsessed.
He bought books.
He read parenting magazines.
He practiced holding dolls.
Everybody made fun of him.
He didn't care.
Baby #3
The house had become
Loud.
Tiny shoes.
Tiny socks.
Michael loved every second.
One afternoon, Jermaine walked inside.
Three little kids were climbing all over Michael.
One was asleep on his shoulder.
Another was tugging his shirt.
The third was trying to steal his glasses.
Jermaine laughed.
"Boy..."
"You building a basketball team?"
Michael smiled proudly.
"It's only three."
Jermaine pointed.
"For now, I know you, nasty."
Baby #5
Nobody questioned it anymore.
It almost felt
Natural.
Christmas dinners became louder and more festive.
One evening, Katherine watched him rocking one baby to sleep while helping another color at the table and listening to one of the older kids tell him about their day.
She smiled.
"You make a wonderful father."
Michael looked up.
"It’s all because of her."
He nodded toward you.
"I couldn't do any of this without her."
- - - - - - - - - -
By the time your oldest had started primary school
Everybody assumed the two of you were finished.
Five children.
That was enough
...right?
Wrong.
Baby #8
One random Sunday afternoon, everybody was gathered at Hayvenhurst for dinner.
Michael stood up.
"So"
"We have some news."
Before either of you could say another word
Jackie sighed.
"She's pregnant."
"How did you know?"
Jermaine started laughing.
"You got that smile on your face."
"The same smile you've had the last seven times."
The entire table started laughing.
Baby #10
At another family barbecue
Michael clinked his glass.
"We'd like everybody's attention."
The family went quiet.
"We're expecting again."
Dead silence.
Jackie looked at Marlon.
Marlon looked at Jermaine.
Jermaine looked at Tito.
Jermaine sighed dramatically.
"You literally just said that."
Michael frowned slightly.
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"That was last year."
"EXACTLY."
Janet nearly dropped her drink.
You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
"I don't understand why everybody thinks this is funny."
Baby #13
Nobody even reacted anymore.
Michael walked into Hayvenhurst.
Katherine smiled.
"How's everybody doing?"
"We're good."
"Also..."
You looked at him.
"Should we tell them?"
Michael nodded.
"We're pregnant."
Jackie:
"Congratulations."
Jermaine:
"Boy or girl?"
Janet:
"When are you due?"
"...Nobody's surprised?"
Jermaine looked offended.
"Why would we be?"
Baby #15
This time
Randy had questions.
Serious questions.
He waited until dinner was almost finished.
Then leaned across the table.
"...Mike."
"Yeah?"
"You know what causes pregnancy."
Michael looked confused.
"...Yes?"
Randy nodded.
"Okay."
"I just wanted to make sure."
Michael looked over at you.
"I don't know why everybody keeps asking me that."
You couldn't even answer.
You were laughing too hard.
Baby #17
Michael walked into family dinner.
Nobody even looked up.
"We're having another baby."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Janet reached for another dinner roll.
"Congratulations."
Jermaine kept eating.
"Pass the mashed potatoes."
Marlon looked up.
"What number is this?"
"Seventeen."
"...Nice."
Then everybody continued eating.
Michael looked offended.
"That's all?"
Jackie shrugged.
"What else you want us to say?"
"We've had sixteen practice rounds."
Baby #20
Years later
Another family barbecue.
Children.
Grandchildren.
Michael stood up.
"We have some news."
Jackie immediately sighed.
"...Twenty."
Jermaine stood up.
"TWENTY?"
"Y'ALL GOT ENOUGH PEOPLE FOR YOUR OWN ZIP CODE."
"Do y'all even remember everybody's birthdays anymore?"
You answered honestly.
"...Most of them."
— — — — — — — —
Years passed.
The house was never quiet.
Children laughing.
Grandkids running through the backyard.
Michael sat on the back porch beside you.
He smiled softly.
"You know..."
"I used to tell everybody I wanted eighteen kids."
"My brothers thought I was crazy."
"They said I'd never find somebody willing to build a family that big."
He looked over at you.
"But then"
"I found you."
"...we ended up with twenty."
"I think we're done now."
You looked over at him with the biggest smile.
"You think?"
His eyes got wide.
"Oh, absolutely."
"I DEFINITELY think."
One of your grandkids came running across the yard.
"Papa!!"
Michael scooped them into his arms without hesitation.
He looked around the yard.
Then back at you.
"This."
"This is everything I ever dreamed of."
“I wouldn't change a single thing.”
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What do you think of a Toph x Pregnant Reader story where both already have families with Lin and Suyin? But when Reader's baby is born, it turns out years later to be a lava bender, and Toph is incredibly excited, even if she doesn't show it.
Let's say the reader is a fire bender. Toph and the reader were always playfully arguing about which bender the baby would be: Fire or Earth. Imagine their surprise when they both get a mix of both!
Could you please capture Toph and the reader's reactions, as well as Lin and Suyin cheering them on completely?
By the way, I love your writing and I think you're one of the few people who write Toph for the character she is and don't make her completely unchangeable
A Path Of Ger Own
Pairing: Toph Beifong x Wife Reader
WC: 5k+
Synopsis: You have to break the news to your daughter's that you're pregnant and it doesn't go very well. Basically the request.
Content/Warnings: Fluff.
Sitting down and breaking the news to your very grown, very adult children that you were pregnant was not the easiest task. Lin was twenty-two, climbing the ranks at the police department in hopes of one day taking over for Toph. Su was seventeen, though she acted like she was the same age as Lin with the way she bossed you and Toph around the house.
You had just finished dinner, and now you were all sprawled across the living room. Some horror movie Suyin had insisted on was playing as she curled against her mama, who was already beginning to drift off to sleep beside her. Toph didn't see the point of grand reveals. After raising two kids, she'd simply told you to get it over with and just tell them.
But you were stressed, hormonal, and you had no idea how they were going to take the news.
You had talked yourself out of it several times that night. Even now, sitting on the opposite couch and watching your family piled together, it still didn't feel like the right time. But you were going to start showing soon, and they deserved to know.
Taking a quiet breath, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. Su was the first to react. Her head whipped toward you so fast it was almost comical, as though you'd just committed a crime she might never forgive.
“Mom!” She groaned dramatically, throwing her hands into the air. “It was just getting to the good part.”
Toph let out a sleepy grunt from the other end of the couch, one arm still draped around Su's shoulders. “Kid, if you wanted the good part, you picked the wrong movie. It sounds terrible.”
“How would you know?” Su countered, turning in her mother's hold. “You've literally been asleep for the last twenty minutes. I didn't even get to explain the plot to you yet.”
“I wasn't sleeping.” Toph lies easily. “I was resting my eyes.”
“You snored.” Su deadpans.
Toph titled her head, never one to accept defeat. “I was listening.”
Lin, seated in the armchair with a book balanced in her lap, lowered it just enough to glance between the three of you. “Can we settle the debate later? Mom paused it for a reason.”
The room quieted and three pairs of eyes settled on you. Your throat suddenly felt dry now that you were the center of attention. You opened your mouth once then closed it again.
Toph tilted her head in your direction, sensing the hesitation immediately. Even half asleep, she knew you better than anyone. “Baby?”
Your fingers tightened around the remote until your knuckles ached from clenching them so hard.
“There... um..” You swallowed. “There's actually something your mama and I wanted to tell you.”
Suyin straightened like she was bracing herself for something awful. Lin closed her book completely, setting it aside without taking her eyes off you. Neither of them spoke, and somehow the silence that settled over the room felt heavier than the horror movie ever had.
When you didn't answer fast enough, the guesses started.
“Are you sick?” Su asked, her voice wavering more with every passing second. “Because... you haven't really been eating, and the other day I heard you throwing up in the bathroom.”
Lin's head snapped toward her sister, her expression hardening. “Mom's been sick, and you didn't think to tell me?”
“I didn't know it was a big deal!” Su added defensively. “She told me she was fine, so I believed her.”
“You should've told me anyway.” Lin shot back angrily. “I have a right to know.”
“And make you panic over nothing?” Su argued, and she had a point out of the two of them Lin was more likely to freak out.
“It clearly wasn't nothing.” Lin pointed out with huff.
Their bickering washed over you, neither of them noticing the guilty look spreading across your face. They weren't angry with each other, you knew thaf more than anything. You could see both of their sides and that was the problem.
Toph sighed from beside Su, rubbing at her face before sitting up properly. “Hey.” Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough authority to stop both daughters mid-argument. “Knock it off.”
The room fell quiet again.
Lin's shoulders were rigid, every muscle in her body tense as she looked back at you. Su had gone pale, her foot bouncing anxiously against the floor.
“Mom,” Lin said more softly this time. “Are you okay?”
Your heart squeezed.
You hadn't expected this. You'd spent the entire day worrying they would think you were too old to have another baby, that they'd be embarrassed, annoyed, maybe even offended that their parents were starting all over again.
Instead, they'd skipped right past every possibility and landed on the one that terrified them most. Losing you to something awful.
You fiddled with your pant leg in an attempt to distract yourself from the anxiety rising in your belly. You coukd feel Toph's energy from the other side of the room, silently telling you to spit it out already before the girls really start to think somethings wrong.
“No,” You answered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I'm not sick.”
Neither of them relaxed after hearing your words. Su leaned forward on the couch. “Then what's going on?”
You let out a nervous laugh, though it came out shakier than you intended.
“I've been throwing up because…” You glanced at Toph, who simply shrugged as if to say See? Told you this would've been easier if you'd just said it. “I'm pregnant.”
The room got eerily silent as you waited for your daughter's honest reactions.
Lin was the first to speak, her brows slowly pulled together as if she'd heard the words perfectly but her brain had decided to reject them anyway. “What?”
“I'm pregnant,” You repeated, unable to stop the small, nervous smile tugging at your lips.
Your children stared at you as if you had suddent grown two heads and Toph folded her arms across her chest, looking far too pleased with herself.
“Took you long enough,” She muttered. “I've been waiting all day for you to spit it out and tell them already.”
Neither daughter acknowledged Toph's comment. They were too stunned to formulate words and you understood this was alot for then and gave them the necessary time they needed to work through it.
“You're serious?” Su whispered.
You nodded. “I went to the healer a few days ago. We wanted to be certain before telling you.”
“But-” Su opened her mouth and closed it again, pointing between you and Toph in disbelief. “You're-you're having a baby?”
Toph snorted from beside her. “Pretty sure that's what pregnant means, honey.”
Lin finally found her voice. “How?”
Toph turned toward the sound with the flattest expression imaginable. “When two women love each other very much-..”
“Oh, spirits, I know how babies are made,” Lin groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “That's not what I meant.”
A grin spread across Toph's face, she'd never tire of teasing her children. “Then ask a better question.”
For the first time since you'd paused the movie, a laugh escaped you. The tension eased, if only for a moment.
“What did you mean, sweetheart?” You asked gently.
Lin rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking far less composed than she had a minute ago.
“It's just,” Her eyes darted toward Su, silently pleading for help, but for perhaps the first time in her life, her younger sister had absolutely nothing to say. “You guys aren't exactly getting any younger.”
“Ouch.” You replied dramatically, placing a hand over your heart.
The joke landed, earning a snort from Toph and the ghost of a smile from Su, but beneath your playful tone you had to swallow the lump rising in your throat. You knew Lin hadn't meant to hurt your feelings. She never would. Still, hearing your daughter's first reaction boiled down to your age stung more than you cared to admit.
Lin noticed the shift almost as soon as it happened. “Mom,” She started quietly. “I didn't mean it like that.”
Your eyes stung with tears that you refused to let fall. “I know.”
“No, I don't think you do.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she searched for the right words. For someone who spent every day giving orders and handling impossible situations at work, this conversation had left her fumbling.
“It's not because I think you're too old to have another baby,” Lin said carefully. “It's because you're my mom.”
The room stayed silent, letting her continue.
“I grew up watching you take care of everyone else.” Her gaze flickered toward Toph before settling back on you. “You barely slept when Su was little. You worked yourself into the ground making sure we had everything we needed. You always put us first.”
She paused, drawing in a slow breath. “And now you've finally gotten to a point where things are easier.”
You listened without interrupting, your heart thundering in your chest as her words warshed over you.
“I'm twenty-two,” Lin continued. “Su's almost an adult. You don't have diapers anymore. No midnight feedings. No toddlers climbing all over the furniture. You and Mom were finally getting your lives back.”
Her voice softened.
“So when you said you were pregnant.” She shook her head with a quiet laugh. “My first thought wasn't 'that's weird.' It was..” She looked down at the floor for a second before meeting your eyes again. “Are they really starting over?”
Your eyes burned, Before you could answer, Su finally found her voice. “I kind of thought the same thing.”
Everyone looked toward her, She hugged one of the throw pillows against her chest, suddenly seeming much younger than seventeen.
“I wasn't thinking about your age.” She grimaced. “Well, maybe a little.”
“Thanks,” You deadpanned.
Suyin winced, “Sorry.”
A tiny smile tugged at your lips, encouraging her to continue.
“I just,” She sighed. “I guess I always imagined it'd just be us. Me, Lin, you, and Mama.” Her fingers tightened around the pillow. “Everything's gonna change now.”
There it was, not judgment or embarrassment. It was fear of the unknown, that the family she'd always known was about to become something unfamiliar.
You crossed the room before either of them could say another word. Kneeling in front of the couch, you reached out and took one of Su's hands before extending the other toward Lin.
“This baby isn't replacing either of you.” You tell them firmly, your voice conveying just how serious you were.
“You don't stop being our children because another one is coming.” Your thumb brushed over Su's knuckles. “There isn't a limit to how much your mama and I can love.”
Toph gave a quiet hum of agreement from the couch behind you. “If anything,” She added, “you're both getting promoted.”
Su blinked. “Promoted?’
“Yeah.” A grin spread across Toph's face. “Congratulations. You're a pair of big sisters.”
Lin let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. “I've been a big sister for seventeen years.”
“Now you're gonna be even bigger.” Toph says simply.
“Mama.” Lin started, shaking her head.
“What?” Toph shrugged innocently. “I thought it sounded inspirational.”
Su groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “That was so bad.”
“It was,” Lin agreed.
Toph looked thoroughly pleased with herself anyway. You shook your head, smiling despite the tears gathering in your eyes.
“They're both still in shock,” Toph said, tilting her head toward you. “Give 'em a minute. They haven't figured out they're happy yet.”
Neither Lin nor Su denied it and for now fhat was okay.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
It was a quiet night at home. You sat at the kitchen table with what Toph had affectionately started calling your latest culinary crime—a steaming bowl of extra spicy ramen loaded with shredded chicken, a plate of green grapes on the side, and a cup of hot jasmine tea. Six months into the pregnancy, your cravings had only become stranger. Some days you wanted pickles dipped in honey. Other days it was smoked fish with sweet pastries. Tonight, for reasons neither of you could begin to understand, your stomach had decided scorching noodles, juicy grapes, and tea belonged together.
Toph sat across from you with her own much less offensive dinner, her nose wrinkling every time another wave of chili-laced steam drifted across the table.
“I don't know how you're eating that,” She muttered, leaning back in her chair. “My eyes are watering just sitting here.”
“It isn't that spicy.” You shrugged, holding the chopsticks up to her lips. “You want a taste?”
Toph scooted her chair further away from you creating more distance. “Hell no!”
You lifted another tangled bite of noodles with your chopsticks, blowing on them before taking a contented mouthful. “You're just dramatic.”
“Says the woman eating lava.” You only smiled around another bite, reaching for a grape afterward as though the combination made perfect sense.
Toph tilted her head in your direction, a grin slowly pulling at the corner of her mouth. “That's disgusting by the way.”
“Good thing it's not for you then.” You laughed, rubbing your hand absentmindedly over the curve of your stomach. The baby gave a small kick beneath your palm, earning another thoughtful tilt of Toph's head.
“I think this one's finally breaking the earthbender streak,” You said, smiling to yourself. “We're finally getting another firebender in this family.”
“Absolutely not.” Toph didn't even hesitate. She rested one elbow on the table, her bare foot lightly touching the floor beneath her chair. Though she couldn't see your belly, her seismic sense had become almost second nature throughout your pregnancy. Every tiny stretch, every roll, every energetic kick echoed through the vibrations she felt. “She feels like an earthbender.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Feels like an earthbender?”
Toph nodded, “Mhm.”
“And what exactly does an earthbender fetus feel like?” You asked honestly.
Toph pointed toward your stomach with complete confidence. “Stubborn.”
You laughed. “They're all stubborn.”
“Not like this one.” Toph folded her arms. “This kid plants herself in one spot for half the day, then decides she's gonna elbow every organ you've got because she doesn't feel like moving around them.”
“She's making room.” You defended playfully.
Toph didn't miss a beat. “She's declaring territory.”
You snorted, amusement shining in your eyes. “I think she's a firebender.”
Toph paused mid bite. “Oh?”
“Think about what she's done to me.” You gestured toward your dinner even though you knew she couldn't see you do it. “I've spent six months inhaling anything spicy enough to make normal people cry.”
“You've always liked spicy food.” Toph pointed out, not yet believing your argument.
“Not enough to put chili oil on noodles that already came with chili oil.” You tell her, swirling more noodles around your chopsticks.
Her shoulder dropped a fraction. “Fair point.”
You looked positively smug.
“And she runs hot.” You tugged lightly at the collar of your shirt. “Everyone else is cold while I'm opening windows in the middle of winter.”
Toph waved you off. “Pregnancy does that.”
“I also burned breakfast yesterday.” You responded, grasping at straws now as toph completely dissected each argument.
Toph laughed, the sound warm enough to fill the kitchen. “Now you're just saying stuff.”
You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your stomach again as another kick landed against your ribs.
“There,” You declared triumphantly. “Did you feel that? That was a firebender kick.”
Toph's expression didn't change. “Nope.”
“It was.” You insisted.
“Earthbender.”
You narrowed your eyes at her, you could do this all day. “Fire.”
She turned her head in your direction, her sightless eyas meeting you head on. “Earth.”
“She kicked because she agreed with me.”
Toph barked out a laugh. “She kicked because she heard you talking nonsense.”
“Oh, so now she understands conversations?” You huffed, a pout forming on your lips.
“I've been talking to her for months.” Toph's voice had dropped into something quieter, more intimate.
You still wouldn't let up even when the tone she was using made your heart skip a beat. “So have I.”
“Yeah,” Toph said with a grin. “And every time I tell her she's gonna be an earthbender, she settles down.”
You gasped. “That's because she's waiting for me to defend her.”
Toph pushed her chair back before walking around the table, stopping beside you. One hand rested gently over yours on your stomach, her smile softening despite the playful argument.
The baby shifted beneath both your palms, slowing down just enough for the ache in your lower back to ease.
“There,” Toph said, her voice nice and smug as her point was proven once again. “See? She's already calmed down just by my presence.”
You rolled your eyes. “I felt a little spark.”
“You imagined it.” Toph says, rubbing soothing circles across your belly.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned back in your chair, enjoying the feel of her hand soothing both you and your child. “You refuse to admit I'm right.”
“Because you aren't and that's okay baby we all make mistakes.”
You leaned your forehead against her shoulder with a quiet laugh. “I can't wait until this baby's born.”
“Me neither.” Toph whispered, her voice full of affection.
“So I can prove you wrong.” You added, ruining the tender moment.
Toph smirked, brushing a kiss against the top of your head.
“Or,” She said, “You'll spend the next twenty years raising the most stubborn little earthbender this family's ever seen.”
“And if she's a firebender?” You asked, glancing up at her.
Toph's grin only widened. “Then I'll know she got her attitude from you.”
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
You were stretched out on one of the lounge chairs beneath the warm afternoon sun, content to let the breeze drift lazily through the gardens of Zaofu. It had been far too long since the entire family had gathered in one place without politics, police work, or world-ending disasters pulling everyone in different directions.
Suyin had insisted everyone visit for the week, and somehow she had even convinced Lin to step away from her responsibilities with the precinct and watching over the new Avatar.
The peace, however, didn't extend to the training courtyard.
Your youngest daughter, Rin, fourteen years old and stubborn enough to rival both of her mothers, was training alongside her older sisters while Toph paced the edge of the arena. Retirement had never suited her. She still carried herself with the same confidence that had once commanded an entire police force.
Time had left its mark in subtle, beautiful ways. Fine lines framed her mouth whenever she smiled, delicate crow's feet gathered at the corners of her pale green eyes, and her dark hair was now streaked generously with silver that hung in a long braid that rested against the middle of her back. Age hadn't diminished her in the slightest. If anything, it had made her more striking. There was a quiet strength to her now, earned through decades of protecting her family and helping shape an entire city.
“Again,” Toph called, planting her feet firmly into the ground. “Quit thinking so hard.”
“I am trying!” Rin growled, her legs faltering in the stance Toph had her in.
“I know you're trying. So stop and just do as I say.” Toph barked, her arms folded behind her back as she scrutinized her daughter's posture through the soles of her feet.
Rin groaned loud enough for everyone to hear. “That doesn't even make sense!”
“It does if you stop overthinking every little movement.” Toph snapped back just as fiercely. Out of all of her children, Toph and Rin collided the most. She had your fiery spirit down to a tea.
A loud clang echoed across the courtyard as another sheet of metal refused to respond.
From beside you came an exaggerated sigh. Suyin flopped into the empty lounge chair, wiping sweat from the back of her neck before reaching for the pitcher of iced tea sitting between you.
“Rin looks about five seconds away from crying because she still can't metalbend,” Su admitted quietly, all traces of her usual teasing gone. “I hate seeing her like this.”
You looked toward the training grounds. Rin stood rigidly in place, shoulders tight, jaw clenched so firmly you could see the muscles twitching from where you sat. Every failed attempt seemed to chip away at her confidence a little more.
“She's a late bloomer,” You said gently, though the reassurance felt painfully familiar.
The words carried a weight of guilt you couldn't hide. You knew exactly what it was like growing up surrounded by impossible expectations. Lin had become one of the greatest metalbenders in history. Su had mastered styles most people spent decades learning. Every lesson Rin attended came with comparisons she never asked for.
She wasn't trying to become better than her sisters. She was simply desperate not to fall behind them.
“I remember feeling like that,” Su confessed, watching Rin from across the courtyard. “Not with metalbending... but with Mom.”
You glanced toward her, your eyes softening.
“I spent years thinking I'd never be enough for her.” She added, the impossible standards that came with being a beifong will always be a burden your children will carry despite raising them not to care what others think.
You reached out for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You were.”
“I know that now.” Su smiled faintly, a distant look in her eyes. “Rin doesn't.”
Another metallic groan rang through the courtyard. Toph crouched beside Rin, saying something too quiet for either of you to hear.
Rin nodded and you watched as she took a breath. Your daughter planted her feet into the earth perfectly only for the metal panel not to move at all, not even a twitch.
Just when Toph was about to comment something that would definitely make things worse the teenager finally snapped.
“I'M TRYING!” Rin shouted, tears stinging her eyes as she slammed both fists toward the earth.
The courtyard trembled under her rage, At first it looked like an ordinary earthbending strike. Then the stone beneath Rin's feet cracked apart and orange light burst through the fractures.
“Mom?" Su whispered.
The cracks widened and split open like spider webs. Heat rolled across the courtyard in suffocating waves as glowing molten rock forced its way through the training floor, turning solid stone into rivers of brilliant orange.
For one impossible moment nobody moved. Lin stared wide eyed and Su's jaw dropped. Even you found yourself frozen in complete disbelief before your maternal instinct kicked in and you were on your feet and across the yard before you could blink.
“She's a Lava bender.” Lin breathed, fascinated.
The realization struck everyone at once. Rin hadn't failed to metalbend, She had just discovered an entirely different talent.
Unfortunately for all of you, She had no idea how to stop it and it terrified her.
“Mama!” Rin cried, stumbling backward as another stream of molten stone spread across the arena. “I-I can't control it!”
Panic flooded her face and your heart hammered in your chest. You couldn't reach them, not with the lava pooling. You were a fire bender yourself, but it seemed the more terrified she became the more it spread amd you couldn't cool it all.
Every frightened breath only made the lava surge farther, swallowing chunks of the training grounds. “I can't stop!”
“Rin.” Toph's voice cut cleanly through the chaos. The single word carried decades of authority. “You're okay, just focus on me.”
Rin's frantic breathing faltered, she listened to her mama, tears streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I'm scared..”
“I know.” Toph sighed, her voice low, still keeping the same calm.
Rin's eyes left her mother as the heat intensified around them. “It's spreading!”
“Lava does that.” She said plainly.
"I don't know what I'm doing!"
Toph stepped closer without a trace of hesitation, stopping only a few feet from the glowing river separating them.
“You don't,” She agreed calmly, another pulse of lava rippled outward. “But you know what?”
Rin shook her head desperately.
“Neither did I.” Toph rested one bare foot against the stone as she continued to calm Rin down.
“When I invented metalbending, you think I knew what I was doing?” Toph asked, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “I made it up as I went.”
Rin let out a shaky laugh despite herself.
“You don't need to be your sisters.” Toph tells her gently, “Just be you Rin, that is all I have ever wanted.”
Lin stepped forward. “She's right.”
Su joined her, cupping her hands around her mouth. “You hear us, Rin? You're doing something none of us can!”
“You've already done the impossible,” Lin called out to her sister. “Now breathe.”
“You've got this!” Su added. “We're not going anywhere!”
Rin swallowed hard, the fear was still there, but so was her family.
Toph nodded once, feeling the tension leave her daughter's shoulders. “Feel the stone beneath the heat.”
Rin closed her eyes, her heart was hammering in her chest and she listened to the earth and focused on the things around her she could control, which was her breathing.
“The lava isn't your enemy,” Toph said steadily. “It's still earth. Slower. Heavier. Listen to it.”
Rin sucked in another breath, zeroing in to the sound of her mother's voice.
“The same way I taught you to feel every stone under your feet.”
The molten rock quivered ans the ground groaned beneath her feet as she followed her mother's careful instructions.
“Good.” Toph hummed, “Now guide it.”
The glowing current hesitated at first under her unsteady hands. Then, inch by inch, the lava began to retreat. The brilliant orange dulled as it cooled, hardening back into black volcanic stone that spread across the ruined courtyard in jagged patterns.
Nobody spoke until the final ribbon of molten earth solidified. Rin opened her twaeful eyes, her shoulders shaking as terror still flowed through her. “I did it?”
Toph's grin was impossible to hide. “No.” She walked across the newly formed stone and pulled her youngest daughter into a fierce hug. “You did something even better.”
Rin buried her face against her mother's shoulder, sobbing into her chest as her body shook with each wretched cry.
“You found your own path and I'm so proud of you.” Toph tells her affectionately.
Behind them, Su whooped loud enough for the entire city to hear while Lin, usually so composed, actually laughed before wrapping both of them in a crushing embrace.
You remained where you were for only a moment longer, your own eyes misting over as you watched your family gathered together in the center of the courtyard.
Rin had spent years believing she was falling behind her sisters. None of you had realized she had simply been walking toward a destiny that belonged to her alone.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Later that night, after the laughter from dinner had faded and the rest of the family had retired to their own rooms, you and Toph finally escaped to the quiet of your bedroom.
Moonlight spilled through the open balcony doors, painting silver streaks across the polished floor while the distant sounds of Zaofu settled into a peaceful hush. The air carried the scent of fresh rain and flowering vines from the gardens below.
Toph stepped out of the adjoining bathroom, a towel draped loosely around her shoulders. Damp strands of silver-streaked hair clung to the back of her neck as droplets traced lazy paths down her shoulders before disappearing beneath the collar of her sleep shirt.
Decades had softened some of the sharper edges of her face, leaving gentle lines thst were reminders of every laugh she'd shared, and battle she had survived against all odds. She was older now, but no less formidable and it was moments like this where you really got to appreciate her.
She paused in the doorway, feeling your gaze piercing through her from where she stood. “I can feel you giving me that look.”
You glanced up from your spot on the edge of the bed, trying and failing to suppress the grin spreading across your face. “What look?”
“The one that says you're about to become insufferable,” Toph said.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“You do.” She crossed the room, stopping directly in front of you. “I can practically hear the smugness radiating off you.”
You tapped your chin, “I was just thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime.”
You laughed, leaning forward. “I was thinking,” You began, dropping your voice to a sweet, mocking tone, “that I was technically right.”
Toph folded her arms, her head tilting slightly. “About what exactly?”
You tipped your chin up, amusement warming your voice. “Rin's a firebender.”
Toph let out an exaggerated scoff, rolling her eyes. “No.”
You blinked innocently. “Pretty sure lava glows and burns things, last I checked.” You spread your hands wide, leaning into her space. “So..”
Toph reached out with practiced accuracy, flicking your forehead hard enough to snap your head back. “So, she's not a firebender.”
“Violence isn't an argument,” You grumbled, rubbing the sore spot while shooting your wife a glare she couldn't see.
“It is when you're wrong,” She shot back instantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
You snorted, shifting your weight on the mattress. “You've spent fourteen years insisting she'd end up just like you.”
“And she did.”
“Did she?” At your quiet question, Toph's posture shifted. The playful defiance softened, and her shoulders dropped. The fierce confidence that usually defined her gave way to a quiet, vulnerable stillness.
“She's an earthbender,” Toph said softly, her voice carrying a warmth reserved only for her family. “She just found a road neither of us expected.”
She stepped closer and sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight. Her shoulder brushed yours, a steady, grounding presence.
“Lava isn't fire, and it isn't ordinary earth, either.” She stated, as if convincing herself as much as you.
“I know,” You replied gently, dropping the teasing act entirely.
Toph shifted further up the bed and leaned back against the metal headboard, staring blankly ahead with those unseeing pale eyes, though you knew she was processing every vibration in the room. “She's in a category of her own.”
The pride in her voice was impossible to miss. It was a tone she rarely used, reserved only for monumental moments and this certainly counted as one.
You shifted closer, resting your head lightly against her shoulder. “I've never heard you sound so impressed. And you've trained hundreds of earthbenders, baby.”
“Mhm,” She murmured, her hand finding yours on the blanket and squeezing it briefly.
“But today..”
“Today,” Toph finished for you, her voice dropping to a low, reverent whisper, “I experienced my daughter discovering something that can't be taught.”
Silence settled comfortably between you, the ambient sounds of Zaofu humming faintly outside the window.
“I thought she was going to panic herself into passing out.” You admitted with a quiet laugh, you could still feel some of the residual adrenaline in your chest as your daughters terrified face flashed in your mind.
“The only thing going through my mind was that if she didn't stop she was going to melt half the city,” Toph commented dryly, her grip on your hand tightening.
You lifted your head from her shoulder, looking at her profile in surprise. “You looked awfully calm out there.”
“I wasn't.” Toph shook her head, her jaw tightening as she stared blankly at the wall. “I was terrified.”
The confession was so unexpected that it left you momentarily speechless. Toph rarely admitted to being scared of anything.
“I couldn't let her hear that,” She continued, her voice dropping to a rare, gritty vulnerability. “If I'd panicked, she would've panicked harder.”
“Well, you fooled me,” You sighed. “You knew exactly what to say to ground her.”
“But I didn't through.” She muttered, a self-deprecating smirk flashing across her face before vanishing. “I guessed and surprisingly it worked.”
You smiled, leaning your temple against hers. “It was a very good guess, Toph.”
She squeezed your hand again, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she wrapped her arms securely around you. “I've learned a few things after raising three daughters. They don't need me to have every answer. They just need to believe I do.”
A soft knock interrupted the quiet of the room. Three hesitant, uneven taps vibrated through the wood.
Rin looked almost guilty for disturbing you, one hand was gripping the edge of the door while the other nervously twisted the sleeve of her nightshirt.
“Am I bothering you?” The uncertainty in her voice caught both of you off guard. Your youngest was many things- stubborn, determined, loud when she wanted to be, but hesitant was rarely one of them.
“Never.” You said warmly, softening your expression to let her know she was always welcome.
Toph patted the empty space on the mattress beside her. “Get in here, kid.”
Rin slipped into the room, letting the door click shut before padding softly across the floor. She climbed onto the bed with far less of her usual confident swagger, moving hesitantly before settling right between the two of you without a word. For a long moment, she simply stared down at her palms, turning them over as if expecting to see the glowing lava materialize out of thin air.
“I-.” She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “I keep thinking about today.”
Toph stayed quiet, dropping her hand to the mattress to feel the subtle vibrations of Rin’s uneven breathing, giving her the space she needed to speak.
“What if I lose control again?” Rin asked softly, her shoulders hunching inward. “What if next time I hurt someone?”
You wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders, drawing her small frame close against your side. “You didn't hurt anyone today, sweetie.”
“But I could have,” Her bottom lip wobbled, the raw fear finally breaking through. You both knew she couldn't hurt a fly. But Rin was only fourteen and you understood how scary this must be for her especially given how she discovered it on accident.
Toph shifted, reaching over to rest a heavy, steady hand on her daughter's knee. “That's exactly why we train. Lavabending's no different from anything else. It's new, and it's scary. And until this morning, you didn't even know you could do it.”
Rin looked up, searching Toph's blind, pale eyes for any sign of deceit. “So... you don't think I'm dangerous?”
Toph gave a quiet, affectionate huff, a proud smirk breaking across her face. “Kid,” She said, reaching over to rough up Rin's hair until it stood on end. “I think you're a Beifong.”
For the first time since she'd poked her head through the door, a genuine laugh broke through Rin's anxiety. The nervous tension finally melted from her shoulders as she leaned heavily into both of you, letting herself just be a kid instead of carrying the weight of being extraordinary.
AN: Yall be having auch great ideas . Tysm anon for sending this in.
summary Fevers spike, the hospital is short-staffed, and you're not exactly in the best shape to take care of your son. Dana steps in just when everything's about to hit the fan.
soft baran ˖⋆˙ fem reader ˖⋆˙ kidfic ˖⋆˙ sickfic ˖⋆˙ family fluff ˖⋆˙ worried baran ˖⋆˙ cold/flu symptoms ˖⋆˙ caring dana ˖⋆˙ domestic fluff
wc: 5k
part 1 here | huge thank you to @oldermenfucker for helping me with the culture and translations on this fic! 💜 | read on ao3
// read part 1 first //
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You wake to a tiny ball of fire pressing against your side.
“Maman,” Kaveh whines, burrowing in between you and Baran. “Mommy… I don’t feel good.”
You blink sluggishly, trying to orient yourself. There’s a burning heat behind your eyes, and the rest of your body feels freezing, as if the room temperature has dropped thirty degrees.
You sit up, automatically pulling Kaveh into your lap and starting to rub his back. Baran stirs, turning on the lamp.
“Oh, honey. What’s wrong, Kavi?” you murmur, brushing back Kaveh’s curls so you can feel his forehead.
You shoot Baran an alarmed look. “Babe, he’s burning up.” Your voice comes out as a croak, and you turn to muffle a rattling cough into your shoulder.
Despite the early hour, Baran looks fully awake now, a calm, focused expression on her face that means she’s worried. She reaches out to feel your son’s forehead, frowning.
“I’ll get the thermometer,” she says, her voice clipped, already getting up. Kaveh coughs into your shirt and whines, clinging to you. Your heart practically breaks, and you kiss the top of his head, shushing him softly.
Baran returns in record time. “Let me see your ear, joonie delam,” she murmurs, gently coaxing Kaveh to turn his head so she can put the thermometer in his ear. She stokes his hair and murmurs to him in Farsi while the thermometer works. Then she checks the number when the device beeps.
“102.3,” Baran mutters, frowning. “Poor thing. Let’s get some medicine in you, sweetheart.” She sets aside the thermometer, and reaches for the bottle of children’s Tylenol.
“Don’ wan’ medicine,” Kaveh whines, clinging harder to you and coughing on a sob. “Feel yucky, Maman.”
“Oh, azizam, I know, I know,” Baran murmurs sadly, rubbing his back, leaning down to kiss his hair. “I know. Man khoobesh mikonam, I’ll make it better, promise. I just need you to take your medicine.”
“One quick sip and then we’ll get something cool for your head, honey,” you encourage, rocking Kaveh slightly. “Can you be a brave boy? Your mamas will be so proud.”
Kaveh looks up with big, watery eyes. After a pause, he gives a tentative nod. You kiss his warm forehead, and Baran pours the medicine into the dosing cup, holding it to Kaveh’s lips. He swallows the medicine, making a face afterward, and Baran hands him some water to wash it down.
“I’ll get a cool cloth,” Baran says.
You nod, coughing sharply again. Baran’s eyes linger on you for a moment, but then she slips off to the bathroom. She returns with a damp washcloth, and you position Kaveh so that he’s laying between the two of you. Baran tenderly lays the cloth across his brow and he gives a happy hum, his eyes fluttering shut. You cover him with the blanket, tucking him in.
“Just sleep, sweetie,” Baran murmurs, smoothing the covers over Kaveh. “Your mamas are right here.”
You both watch him until his breathing starts to slow and the fist he has bunched in your shirt finally relaxes.
“Will he be alright?” you whisper, once you’re sure he’s asleep. He still looks so fragile, his brown cheeks flushed a dark, angry red.
Baran nods, still rubbing the little boy’s back. “High fevers are common in young kids. It’s unsettling, but not usually dangerous. The acetaminophen should bring it down. I’ll check again in an hour.”
You nod, feeling yourself relax slightly. Then you have to turn away when you’re hit with another coughing fit. You do your best to muffle it into the pillow, not wanting to wake Kaveh.
When you finally catch your breath and turn back around, Baran’s gaze is fixed steadily on you.
“Your turn, azizam,” Baran says quietly, holding the thermometer up.
“I don’t need –” you start to protest, but she raises a hand up to stop you.
“Please don’t argue, sweetheart. I can see your flushed cheeks from here.”
It’s the quiet, tired, resignation in Baran’s voice that has you tilting your ear toward her. The thermometer beeps and she pulls it out, giving a disapproving hum.
“101.6. You need another dose as well,” Baran says, reaching for the bottle of adult Tylenol. She shakes two pills out into her palm and holds them out. “You’re doing a covid and flu test in the morning. I’m worried this is more than just a cold.”
You sigh, accepting the pills. You know she’s right, and you’re too exhausted to feign wellness anymore. Baran refills your glass of water in the bathroom and you swallow the medicine and drain the glass. She nods approvingly, although you can still see the concern lingering in her eyes as she watches you.
“Let’s get some sleep, honey,” you say croakily, laying back down and tugging her down to do the same. “Maybe we’ll all feel better in the morning.”
Baran hums noncommittally, tugging the sheets up over your shoulder. You all cuddle together, two of you burning hot, one quietly with worry.
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Baran peers at the rapid test in her hand, shining her phone light on it to look for a line.
“Negative for flu, covid, and RSV,” Baran says, quiet relief in her voice. She sets the test aside. “Good.”
“What does that mean?” Kaveh asks stuffily, looking up from his Switch. He’s propped up in your bed on a small mountain of pillows, his dark curls messy and his cheeks still pink from the lingering fever.
“It means you have a bad cold, joonie delam,” Baran says, brushing a curl out of his eyes. She looks up at you. “And you both need to rest.”
You sigh, slumping back against the pillows and crossing your arms. “I could probably still get a few things done, babe…”
“No, you cannot.” Baran gives you a firm look. “You’re exhausted and running a temperature, sweetheart. The only thing I want you doing today is resting and hydrating.”
You intend to protest, but you end up sneezing instead. You groan afterward, rubbing your nose.
“Bless you,” Baran says crisply, handing you a tissue with a tiny smirk. “And that’s why you’re resting today, azizam.”
You blow your nose, grimacing at how congested you are already. “Maybe the little guy and I should go hole up in the guest room,” you say, looking at your wife. “So you don’t catch this, babe.”
Baran smooths a hand over your hair, her expression fond and slightly amused. “We’ve been over this, sweetheart. I haven’t had a cold in several years. I want you right here where I can take care of you.”
You sniffle again and Baran patiently hands you more tissues.
“You know, you say that,” you croak, wiping your nose. “But one of these days you’re going to catch something and then it’ll be you here sneezing every five seconds.”
Baran gives you a small, amused smile. “Well, then you can take care of me. Until then…” She settles back against the headboard, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to rest against her chest. “I’m calling the shots.”
“Bossy,” you mutter, but your voice is fond. You relax back against her.
“You need it.” Baran kisses the top of your hair. “Esterahat kon. Rest, azizam.”
You rest.
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The morning is cozy and slow. Baran insists on you and Kaveh staying in bed. She brings breakfast to you, checks your temperatures occasionally, and just generally dotes on you. It’s a gray, cloudy day outside and rain drums faintly against the windowpane, making the bedroom feel extra cozy and warm.
It isn’t long before Kaveh drifts off to sleep again, curling up between you and Baran. You take the opportunity to switch the TV channel, since you’ve had Bluey playing all morning. You and Baran settle in for an episode of Bridgerton, Baran holding your hand and running her thumb absently over your knuckles.
But then the peace of the moment is abruptly broken when Baran’s phone starts buzzing. She frowns at it, hesitating before picking up.
“It’s the hospital,” she mutters, swiping to accept the call.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi,” she answers, sitting up straighter. Her frown deepens as she listens to whatever the other person on the line is saying. “Can’t Dr. Shen take it? I’m unavailable.”
There’s more silence as she listens, shaking her head. You can tell she’s getting frustrated. “I have a sick partner and kid at home,” Baran says curtly. “I really can’t come in unless there’s no one else who –”
The person on the other line interrupts, and she goes quiet again.
We’ll be fine, you mouth to her, having figured out what’s going on. She looks at you, shaking her head faintly with a frown.
Baran sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I see…” she exhales, rubbing her eyes. “I…yes. Okay. Until seven? Yes, I’ll take it.”
She hangs up, sighing again.
You give her a sympathetic look. “You need to go in?”
“Apparently Robby has norovirus and is currently vomiting in one of the exam rooms. John is in California. They need me to cover,” Baran says, looking frustrated. “I really don’t want to leave you when you’re ill, but there’s no one else. They have an incoming trauma in twenty.”
“Go.” You lean in, kissing her cheek. “Babe, we’ll be fine. It’s a cold. I can handle things here until you get back.”
Baran bites her lip, her gaze bouncing between you and Kaveh. “You’ll rest?” she asks, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead, and you nod.
She hesitates. “You’re still so warm, sweetheart. I don’t know…” she frowns, dropping her hand and studying you.
“It’s a fever, Baran. I’ve had one before. I’ll live,” you say, giving her a firm look. “I know you don’t want to go, but they need you more than we do. I promise we’ll be fine, babe.”
Baran gives you a long look. “You promise to call me if you need anything? Or if anything changes?”
“Promise.” You give her a gentle nudge. “Go get changed, babe.”
You can tell that Baran is still conflicted about going in, but she changes into her scrubs quickly and pulls her hair back. She gives both you and a sleeping Kaveh a kiss on the forehead, then lingers by the bed for a moment, just watching you.
“We’re fine,” you repeat firmly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “It’s a cold. We’re resting. Go save lives, baby.”
“Call me,” Baran stresses, glancing at her watch and making a face. “I mean it, azizam.”
“I will,” you nod. She sighs, giving you one final kiss before rushing out the door.
You snuggle up with Kaveh, letting your own eyes fall closed. You figure the two of you will nap most of the day, maybe you’ll reheat some soup for lunch. There won’t be any reason to call Baran.
At least, that’s what you thought would happen.
But two hours later, you’re not coping quite as well as you had hoped.
“Mommy, I’m bored,” Kaveh whines, tugging on your shirt sleeve. “Can we play a game, Mommy? Pleeease?”
Kaveh’s fever dropped significantly after his nap, and with it came a surge of energy. You’ve been desperately trying to keep him entertained despite the fact that you are definitely not feeling any better. In fact, quite the opposite.
“Don’t you want to watch more Bluey?” you suggest weakly, rubbing your eyes. There’s a pounding in your head that just won’t abate no matter what you do, and you're laying on the couch wrapped in two blankets and somehow still shivering.
“I’m tired of Bluey,” Kaveh whines, bouncing on his feet. “Can we play outside?”
“I don't feel very good, sweetie,” you croak, grimacing at the pain in your throat. “Maybe you could do some coloring? Or play with your dinosaurs?”
“Okay,” Kaveh says, pouting a little. He dumps his box of toy dinosaurs on the floor and plops down in front of them, starting to play.
You’re happy he’s occupied, but the fake roaring noises he starts making, and the clash of the plastic toys against each other just make your head pound harder. You pick up your phone and squint at it. It’s too soon to take more Tylenol, but maybe you could have some ibuprofen? That’s okay, right?
You cough, your chest aching with it. You try to Google the answer but your eyes are watery and your head is woozy, so it’s hard to make sense of what you’re reading. Kaveh gives another dinosaur roar and it sends a stab of pain shooting through your head.
Before you have time to question it too much, you swipe to your contacts and tap Baran’s name.
She answers after exactly two rings.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, her voice sharp. You can hear the distant sounds of the emergency room in the background, the beeping of machines and overlapping voices. You already feel guilty for calling.
“I…um,” you cough, clearing your throat. “Can I take ibuprofen if I had Tylenol an hour ago?”
“Why do you need ibuprofen?” Baran asks immediately. The background sounds become muffled. She’s probably stepping into the breakroom. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…” you mumble, feeling tears burn your eyes. “I don’t feel very good? I’ve got this bad headache...”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Baran lets out a soft breath, and you can hear the concern in her voice. “What’s your temperature, azizam?”
“I haven’t checked it.”
“Check it, please,” Baran says. “Right now.”
You fumble the thermometer off the coffee table and clumsily put it in your ear. When it beeps, you squint to read the number.
You stare at it, biting your lip. You don’t say anything.
“Tell me,” Baran orders, her voice sharp again. “Sweetheart. Tell me the number.”
You hesitate. “...103.1.”
Baran swears quietly. That surprises you more than anything, because she so rarely swears. You know if she’s cursing, it’s not good news.
“Okay,” Baran says, letting out a soft breath. Even though her voice is still calm, you can tell she’s trying to steady herself. “Okay. I can’t leave right now, but I’m going to have someone check up on you. Don’t take any more medicine just yet. Just rest, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
Her tone is gentle, coaxing. It makes your eyes water again. You really do miss her.
“Okay,” you mumble. “But I don’t need anyone –”
“You do,” Baran interrupts. “I’ll handle it. I need to make a call, azizam. Your only job is to rest right now, okay? Is Kaveh alright?”
“He’s fine, he’s playing.”
“Good. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Everything will be alright. I love you, eshgham.”
You mumble an I love you back then hang up. It belatedly occurs to you to ask who exactly will be coming over, but the thought of looking at your bright phone any further sounds like torture. So instead you curl tighter into your blankets, closing your eyes.
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You wake up to the sound of someone fumbling with the front door lock. The moment your eyes snap open, you immediately scan for Kaveh, your heart racing. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. What if he got into trouble, or his fever rose or –
“Someone’s here!” Kaveh chirps, setting down his miniature t-rex. Your shoulders drop with relief. He’s in the same spot you left him, playing with his toys.
“Is it Maman?” Kaveh asks, jumping to his feet and running to the door.
“Wait – Kavi, don’t –” you call weakly, trying to push yourself up, but your arms are as limp as cooked noodles.
“Woah, hey there kiddo,” says a familiar voice, and you immediately sigh with relief. It’s not some stranger at the door. It’s Dana.
“Auntie Dana!” Kaveh cries, and you hear Dana give a soft oof as the little boy throws himself at her.
“You’re pretty chipper for a kid who’s supposed to be sick,” Dana chuckles, picking Kaveh up and settling him on her hip. “How ya feeling, little guy?”
“I feel better. Mommy’s still sick though,” Kaveh says, and Dana looks over at you, her expression softening. You give a weak wave from the couch.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Dana says, walking over with Kaveh on her hip. “Guess we better take care of her, huh?”
He nods, wrapping his arms around her neck and hugging her. You smile at the sight. But then you break into an inopportune coughing fit, burying your face in the blankets.
“Uh oh,” Dana says. You’re vaguely aware of her putting Kaveh down and handing you a glass of water, but you’re too distracted by trying to stop coughing to really pay attention. By the time the cough settles, your cheeks are wet with irritated tears. You realize Dana has joined you on the couch, sitting next to you and rubbing your back.
“You’ve definitely got the plague, honey,” Dana says, her tone wry but her hazel eyes sympathetic. She hands you a tissue, still rubbing your back. “I can see why Baran called.”
“Sorry,” you croak, cleaning up your face and sipping the water. You squint at her, confused. “Aren’t you on shift?”
“Nah, today’s my day off,” Dana says, already reaching out to press the back of her wrist to your cheek. She lets out a low whistle, frowning. “But looks like I’m gonna do some nursing anyway. You are on fire, hon.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Yeah, right.” Dana shakes her head at you, giving you a no-nonsense look. “Let’s get your temp, sweetheart. I need to see what I’m working with here,” she says, reaching for the thermometer.
“I just took it,” you grumble, even though you let her stick the device in your ear anyway.
“Yeah, 103.1. Baran told me. Several times, in fact,” Dana says, checking the number when it beeps. “That’s about as close to losing her shit as I’ve ever heard her.”
“Dana.” You give a pointed glance at Kaveh, who luckily is distracted by his dinosaurs again. “Language.”
“Ah, right,” Dana chuckles, setting the thermometer aside. “Sorry, potty mouth. I’ll try to keep it in check but no promises,” she grins. “Comes with the package.”
“I really appreciate you coming over,” you say. “Sorry to ruin your day off.”
“You’re not ruinin’ nothing, hon,” Dana says, giving you a firm look. “I don’t want to hear any more of that ok? We’re family. That means we look out for each other, ‘specially when someone’s running a fever of 103. Speaking of –” she reaches for the bottle of Tylenol on the table, checking the dosage. “When’s the last time you took something? We gotta get you cooled down, sweetheart. That fever’s no good.”
“Um…” You think back, trying to get your sluggish brain to cooperate. “I had two pills about an hour ago? Or maybe two.”
Dana nods, listening. “You take anything else? DayQuil, Advil, Motrin?”
You shake your head, then wince when the movement aggravates your headache.
“Okay, I’m gonna get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack, see if we can’t bring that temp down a bit,” Dana says, pushing to her feet. “Be right back, hon.”
Kaveh watches her get up, sticking his bottom lip out. “I thought we were gonna play, Auntie Dana.”
“We are, kiddo, promise,” Dana smile, crouching down to ruffle his hair. “I just gotta take care of your mom first, ‘kay? Then I’m all yours.”
Dana returns with a bottle of pills, a fresh glass of water, and a couple bags of vegetables from the freezer. She has you take the pills first and makes you drink all the water. Then she wraps the makeshift ice packs in dish towels. The frozen peas go behind your neck, the corn on your forehead.
She starts to peel one of your blankets off but you clutch at it. “I’m freezing,” you complain, snuggling further into the blankets.
Dana just shakes her head, giving you a sympathetic look. “That’s the fever talking, sweetheart. I gotta take at least one of these. Baran is going to skin me alive if your temp climbs any higher. And you’ll be looking at a nice trip down to PTMC for an ice bath.”
You sigh, but reluctantly allow her to take one of your blankets. You know your wife really is worried, and you don’t want to give her any more reason to be so.
Then you sneeze, not just once, but several times, covering as best you can with an elbow.
“Can’t catch a break, huh?” Dana says, giving you a fond smirk and passing the tissue box. “Bless you, hon.”
“Do you want me to put on a mask?” You belatedly realize that you should have asked this ten minutes ago and wince. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t even think –”
“It’s fine,” Dana interrupts, squeezing your shoulder. “Germs see me and run the other way. As long as it’s not flu or covid, I’m not worried about it.”
You grab a handful of tissues, blowing your nose. “You sound like my wife,” you grumble.
Dana laughs. “Comes with the profession. We’ve all caught everything there is to catch by now. Except I definitely do not want whatever Robby has now…yeesh.”
“Thankfully there have not been any upset tummies with this bug,” you say, sighing as you lean back against the couch cushions. Your gaze drifts to Kaveh, who’s playing by himself and you note his still faintly pink cheeks.
“Do you mind…?” you ask, looking at Kaveh, and Dana nods.
“That was going to be my next step right after you,” Dana says, cleaning the thermometer with an alcohol wipe. She kneels next to Kaveh, holding it up. “Quick temp check, buddy.”
He complies easily, used to this routine by now.
“99.7,” Dana reads, putting her palm to Kaveh’s forehead to feel for herself. “Not quite normal but pretty darn close. I’d say you’re on the mend, kiddo.”
“Yay!” Kaveh grins, looking up at her with big, round eyes. “Can we play now?”
“Sure can,” Dana smiles. She sits back on her heels, surveying the toys. “What do you wanna play?”
“I have a basketball hoop in my room!” Kaveh says excitedly. “It’s on the door, Maman hung it up. Wanna see?”
“‘Course I do,” Dana grins, letting him tug her to her feet. She glances back at you, giving you a soft look. “You just rest there, okay, hon? You need anything else? I’ll be back to check your temp in a bit.”
“I’m good. Thank you, Dana,” you say, seriously. “You’re a lifesaver.”
She just gives you a warm smile and follows Kaveh down the hall to his room.
Now that you know Kaveh’s being looked after, you finally feel like you can relax a bit. The ice on your head feels amazing, already starting to quieten the pounding in your temples. You sink into the couch, letting your eyes close again.
Thank god for your PTMC family.
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Baran rarely has a problem focusing when she’s on shift. Her work requires precision and her full attention. Even minor oversights can mean the difference between life and death in emergency medicine.
But today, her family is on her mind. She keeps thinking back to how she left you and Kaveh, both of you in bed wrapped up in blankets, with matching flushed cheeks and dry coughs. How she wanted nothing more than to stay there all day, making sure you had enough to eat, to drink, that you were taking your medicine at the right intervals.
And when you had called her with that fever – 103.1, she still can’t get the number out of her head – her heart had nearly dropped to the floor. It took all of her self-control to not just hop in the car and speed home, PTMC be damned.
She’s so thankful that you befriended Dana all those months ago, and that the charge nurse has long since become a part of the family. There’s no one else she would trust to look after you when she can’t. No one else whose medical knowledge and love for her wife and kid that she has more faith in than Dana’s. The fact that Dana is there taking care of you is a huge comfort, but she still can’t wait to get home.
Baran pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking for any updates. Her eyes immediately scan the text from Dana that lights up her screen.
Dana: Fever down to 102.2 after 400 mg ibu. Will continue PRN. Kid and I are playing. Don’t worry doc. ❤️
Baran lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 102.2. That’s manageable. Definitely still a fever, but not panic worthy. Not anything that will land you in one of her triage rooms, or that means she needs to drop everything and speed home right this second.
She quickly types out a text back. Thank you so much. ❤️ Please give 650 mg acetaminophen at 5:00.
Dana responds immediately with a thumbs up emoji, and Baran smiles. She knows that Dana has this handled, that you and Kaveh are going to be fine. The worry that’s been clenching her chest like a vice loosens a little, letting her breathe again.
Then Dr. Santos calls her name and she pockets her phone. Taking a centering breath, she shifts her focus to the patient being wheeled in from the ambulance bay.
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You wake up slowly, groggily. There’s a hand in your hair, short nails scratching gently at your scalp. The sensation is so soothing it makes you want to drift back to sleep.
You blink your eyes open. Baran is crouching next to the couch, smiling softly at you.
“There you are,” Baran murmurs, kissing your forehead. Her brown eyes are as warm as sunshine as she looks at you, still carding her fingers through your hair. “How are you feeling, azizam?”
“You’re home?” you ask, pushing yourself up slightly. Baran puts a hand on your back to help, then eases a pillow behind you to prop you upright.
The light has shifted now, shadows coming through the windows instead of gray daylight. The lamp is on in the corner of the living room, the room quiet with the kind of hush that falls over the house once Kaveh has gone to bed for the night.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Baran hums, touching the back of her hand to your cheek, her skin cool against yours. “You’ve been sleeping.”
You blink again, suddenly feeling guilty. “Kaveh –?”
“Is asleep,” Baran says calmly, returning to stroking your hair. “Dana left a few minutes ago. She said to tell you to keep your butt in bed for the next few days.”
You chuckle, then cough. “Sounds like her.”
Baran nods. She reaches for the thermometer, holding it up. “May I?”
You sigh and nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing about it. Baran gives a thoughtful hum once she reads the number. “Better. But still elevated.”
You glance around the room, realizing that the toys have been put away and the mess of tissues and cups on the coffee table have been cleaned up.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so long –” you start, but Baran shakes her head.
“You were doing exactly what you needed to be doing. Resting,” she says, smoothing a hand down your side. “That’s why Dana was here. And now I’m home.”
“I missed you,” you say honestly, looking at her.
“I missed you too, sweetheart,” Baran murmurs, kissing your temple again. “You have no idea how worried I was.”
“Sorry,” you wince.
Baran’s lips curve into a small smile, and she cups your cheek. “Don’t apologize for spiking a fever, eshgham. It’s not your fault. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be here to take care of you.”
“How was your shift?” you ask, sitting up further. Your head feels a lot clearer than it did earlier, you realize, and the pounding ache is gone.
“It was fine,” Baran says, handing you a glass of water. “I gave Robby an antiemetic and sent him home. A few traumas. Nothing major.”
“Just saving lives, no big deal,” you say, giving her a teasing grin.
“You’re my big deal,” Baran says tenderly, tucking some hair behind your ear.
“Babe. You can’t just say sweet stuff like that,” you complain, even though you’re smiling. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
“Well, let’s try to avoid the tears for the sake of your sinuses,” Baran chuckles, giving you a fond look. She takes the glass from you when you’re done, then laces your fingers together. “How does some soup sound? My beautiful wife made ash restesh yesterday.”
“Did she?” You smirk. “Sounds like a keeper, if you ask me.”
“Yeah. I think I’ll keep her around,” Baran grins. She tucks the blanket over your shoulders, then kisses both your cheeks. “Rest here, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”
Baran heads off to the kitchen while you relax back into your blanket nest. You listen to the distant sounds of her getting the soup ready, the clink of dishes, the beep of the microwave. As the microwave whirs, you can just faintly make out the sound of her humming something in Farsi, an old favorite song of hers perhaps.
Your chest fills with warmth, like a small fire igniting under your ribs. You love your family so much, enough to make your heart ache with the ferocity of it.
The world outside will keep turning. But here, in the cocoon of these four walls, you have everything you need.
Alfred stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes with much more force than necessary. Bruce was doing horribly mentally lately. Near constant nightmares, preforming poorly in school, only talking when he was snapping at someone.
"I shouldn't have agreed to take care of him," He couldn't help but think. "I haven't the foggiest clue how to raise a child! He's better off if we never see each other again."
"Uhm, where does this go?" Alfred flinched and looked over his shoulder. Ten-year-old Bruce stood in the kitchen, holding a serving spoon.
Silently, Alfred nodded to the drawer, watching as the boy put it away and then reached to grab more clean dishes.
"What are you doing?" Alfred asked and Bruce paused, looking unsure.
"I, uhm... I figured we could watch the new episode of Gray Ghost together sooner if I helped you clean up... Am I in the way?"
"No," Alfred said softly. "No, I think you're just where you belong, my dear boy."
20 years later, Bruce sits at a desk, organizing physical copies of case files. 12 year old Dick was running circles around the man and he was exhausted.
"Oh who am i kidding?" He thinks to himself. "I can't keep up with Batman, Wayne Industries and Dick. I love the kid but I have no clue what I'm doing. He's better off if he forgot he ever even met me..."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Dick asked and jeez Bruce really was tired because he didn't even realize he was in the cave.
"Since when do you file things?" Bruce joked dryly and Dick rolled his eyes.
"I want to show you a routine I've been working on and I can't do that till you finish up." Dick explained, sounding exasperated.
Bruce blinked a few times.
"You're willing to file if it means I watch your routine?" He asked bluntly. Dick blushed and scowled like the angsty pre teen he was.
"Don't make it sound all mushy..." he grumbled, crossing his arms. That startled a laugh out of Bruce and Dick looked at him in surprise. "That's what gets you to laugh?! Not my hilarious jokes?!"
Snickering, Bruce replied, "What hilarious jokes?"
Dick gasped dramatically and turned around with a flourish. He put a hand to his head and exclaimed, "Well, if me and my jokes are just getting in your way, I guess I'll leave!"
Bruce laughed and stood up. Without a second thought, he grabbed the small boy and pulled him into his arms, planting a kiss on top of his head.
Summary: Morning comes, and Jack is still there. Unfortunately, so is the reality of telling Carter and Robby what happened over the weekend. Fortunately, Carter has absolutely no intention of making that difficult. Okay. Maybe a little difficult.
Warnings: implied sexual content, references to sex, grief and discussion of Laura’s death, military injury/amputation/prosthetic, second-chance romance, excessive amounts of kissing, Carter being physically incapable of keeping a secret, Jack Abbot experiencing approximately twenty years of repressed affection all at once.
Author’s Note: We made it, lovelies. 🥹 After all the missed timing, letters, photographs, almosts, and years between them, I really wanted this chapter to be about something much simpler: what happens when Jack and Reader finally get to stay. They get coffee. They tell their family. Jack discovers he apparently has twenty years of kisses to make up for. Carter takes full credit for everything. There is still one very special epilogue to come. 🤍
For a few seconds, he did not know what had pulled him from sleep.
The guest room was quiet. Morning light had begun to gather around the edges of the curtains, pale and soft enough that the room still felt suspended somewhere between night and day.
Then Jack felt the weight against his chest.
He looked down.
You were asleep against him.
One arm rested across his stomach, your cheek tucked against his chest. Your hair had fallen across his skin sometime during the night, soft and disordered from sleep. One of your legs was tangled loosely with his beneath the blankets.
Jack stopped breathing for a moment.
You were here.
Not nineteen. Not a photograph. Not a memory he had carried folded inside his wallet for more years than he cared to count.
You.
Warm and sleeping in his arms.
His chest ached.
The feeling was so full that it almost hurt.
Jack lowered his hand to your back.
He moved carefully, barely touching you at first, his palm tracing slowly over the fabric of your shirt. He felt the steady rise and fall beneath his hand.
You shifted closer in your sleep.
Jack closed his eyes.
That nearly finished him.
His arm tightened instinctively around you, drawing you more securely against his chest.
Last night returned in pieces.
Your face when he told you the truth about the letter.
The hurt in your voice when you told him he should have let you choose.
The hospital.
The lake.
The years neither of you had ever managed to put completely behind you.
Then your voice asking him the question that had finally stripped away every excuse he had left.
Is it over now?
Not even close.
Jack opened his eyes again.
You were still there.
His fingers moved carefully through your hair, brushing a strand away from your face.
He studied you in the weak morning light.
Time had changed you.
There were faint lines at the corners of your eyes that had not been there beside the lake. Your face had softened in places. Your hair fell differently against your cheek.
Jack wanted to know every change.
His heart ached thinking about how many mornings he had missed.
For once, he let it.
He did not turn the feeling into a reason to step away.
His hand moved slowly down your back again.
He loved the weight of you against him.
Loved the warmth of your body.
Loved that you had fallen asleep with your hand spread over his stomach as though some part of you had needed to keep contact even after sleep took over.
Jack looked at your face.
He could still hardly believe the two of you had finally said it.
I love you.
He had said it.
You had said it back.
After all the years he had spent convincing himself that loving you meant knowing when to leave, you had looked him in the eye and told him you loved him now.
Jack’s thumb moved gently along your back.
He knew what this was.
That certainty should have frightened him.
Instead, it settled somewhere deep inside his chest with the weight of something that had been waiting years to come home.
Jack had loved you since he was twenty-one.
He had loved you when he boarded that bus.
He had loved you through every letter.
He had loved you through years in which both of you built lives that did not belong to each other.
He loved you now.
And lying there with you asleep against him, Jack knew something else with a clarity that left no room for argument.
This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
Jack stared at you.
Then, with absolutely no warning, the thought became even more specific.
I would marry her.
Jack went still.
Not eventually.
Not after six months of behaving sensibly and pretending the two of you had not already known each other for most of your lives.
Right now.
He would wake you up, pack both your bags, throw them into his truck, and drive straight to Vegas if you opened your eyes and said yes.
The thought should have alarmed him.
Instead, Jack found himself considering how quickly he could get you to Nevada.
His mouth curved.
Completely ridiculous.
Robby would kill him.
Carter would be worse.
Jack could already picture the outrage on the kid’s face.
After everything Carter had done to get the two of you into the same house, there was no chance he would accept being excluded from the wedding.
He would probably produce an itemized list of his contributions to the relationship.
Breadsticks would be on it.
Jack’s smile widened.
Vegas was probably out.
Probably.
You made a soft sound against his chest.
Jack immediately looked down.
Your nose scrunched slightly before your face relaxed again.
He brushed his knuckles gently over your hair.
You shifted beneath his touch and slowly opened your eyes.
For a second, you only blinked at him. Then recognition softened your face.
“Hi,” you murmured.
Jack’s heart did something deeply inconvenient inside his chest.
“Morning,” Jack replied.
Your eyes moved over his face.
“You’re staring at me,” you said.
Jack’s thumb continued its slow path along your back.
“I know,” Jack replied.
A sleepy smile pulled at your mouth.
“How long?” you asked.
Jack considered lying.
“Long enough to become concerned about it,” Jack admitted.
Your smile widened.
“That sounds healthy,” you murmured.
Jack bent and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I’m a doctor,” Jack said. “I’ll monitor it.”
A quiet laugh escaped you.
You settled closer against him and rested your cheek over his heart again.
Jack’s arm tightened around you.
Neither of you spoke for a moment.
Then your fingers moved lazily against his stomach.
“You’re still here,” you said.
Jack lowered his mouth to your hair.
“I’m still here,” Jack replied.
You tipped your face up toward him.
“Tomorrow too?” you asked.
Jack’s thumb brushed slowly over your back.
“Tomorrow too,” Jack said.
Jack kissed you before he could start thinking about Nevada again.
The kiss stayed soft.
Lazy.
Unhurried in a way neither of you had managed the night before.
When Jack pulled back, you kept your hand against his chest.
“We should probably figure out what we’re telling Carter,” you said.
Jack exhaled through his nose.
“There goes the morning,” Jack replied.
You smiled.
“We cannot just let him figure it out,” you said.
Jack gave you a look.
“He arranged half of this weekend,” Jack replied. “I think he has already figured out most of it.”
“Still,” you said. “We should tell him.”
Jack’s fingers moved slowly along your back.
“Together,” Jack said.
You nodded. “Together,” you agreed.
Jack looked toward the ceiling for a moment.
“And clearly,” Jack added.
You lifted your head.
“Clearly?” you asked.
Jack looked back at you.
“No vague language,” Jack said. “No ‘we’re seeing where this goes.’ No ‘something happened this weekend.’”
Your mouth curved.
“You really have thought about this,” you said.
Jack’s expression stayed serious.
“He’s nine,” Jack replied. “He deserves to know what’s actually happening.”
The tenderness in his voice softened your smile. You traced one finger over his chest.
“So we tell him we’re together,” you said. “That it’s serious.”
Jack nodded.
“That it isn’t temporary,” Jack added.
You held his gaze.
“That it isn’t temporary,” you repeated.
Jack’s hand settled at your waist.
“And Robby?” you asked.
Jack groaned quietly.
“You tell him,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“Absolutely not,” you replied. “You’re doing this with me.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“He is never going to let this go,” Jack said.
“No,” you agreed. “He absolutely is not.”
Jack opened his eyes again.
“He’s going to be relieved,” Jack said.
You smiled softly. “And happy,” you added.
Jack’s expression eased.
“Yeah,” Jack replied. “Happy too.”
You rested your cheek against his chest again.
For another minute, neither of you moved. Then your eyes shifted toward the clock on the nightstand. You lifted your head.
“What time is Carter coming home?” you asked.
Jack followed your gaze. His expression changed.
“An hour,” Jack said.
You stared at him. “An hour?” you repeated.
Jack nodded once.
You pushed yourself upright.
“We need to get up,” you said.
Jack’s arm tightened around your waist before you could move far.
“We need showers,” you continued. “Coffee. Clothes. We should probably make the bed.”
Jack looked toward the tangled blankets.
“He is nine,” Jack said.
“He has eyes,” you replied.
Jack’s mouth twitched. You tried to pull away again. Jack did not let go.
“Jack,” you said.
His hand slid along your waist.
“We have an hour,” Jack replied.
You looked down at him.
“Yes,” you said slowly.
Jack’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Your stomach flipped. You narrowed your eyes.
“No,” you said.
Jack’s eyebrows lifted.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack replied.
“You didn’t have to,” you said.
His mouth curved.
You stared at him for another second. Then your own smile betrayed you. Jack noticed immediately.
“That is not a no,” Jack said.
You lowered yourself back over him.
“We really should get up,” you murmured.
Jack’s hands settled at your hips.
“In a minute,” Jack replied.
You kissed him.
The shower could wait. So could the coffee.
Carter still had fifty-eight minutes.
By the time you and Jack made it downstairs, Carter was due home in less than fifteen minutes.
The coffee maker hummed on the counter while Jack opened the cabinet above it and reached for two mugs.
You watched him pull yours down without asking.
Something about that caught at you.
It was such a small thing.
Jack knew which mug you used at your brother’s house. He knew how much coffee you poured before adding cream. He knew you would steal the first sip from his if yours took too long.
There were decades tucked into the ordinary parts of knowing each other.
Jack set your mug beneath the machine.
“We need a plan,” you said.
Jack glanced toward you.
“I thought we had one,” Jack replied.
“For telling Carter,” you clarified.
Jack’s expression shifted.
“Right,” Jack said.
Jack poured coffee into his mug, then slid your mug toward you. You wrapped both hands around it.
“So what do we say?” you asked.
Jack considered the question.
“We tell him we’re together,” Jack said.
You nodded.
“We tell him we decided this weekend,” you added.
Jack’s gaze lifted to yours.
“We tell him we love each other,” Jack said.
The words still did something to you.
Your fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
Jack noticed.
His expression softened.
“That too,” you said with a smile.
Jack stepped closer to the counter.
“And we tell him this isn’t temporary,” Jack added. “It isn’t just something that happened because we were here.”
You held his gaze.
“No,” you said. “It isn’t.”
Jack reached for your free hand. His fingers slipped through yours easily.
“We should make sure he knows nothing changes with him,” you said. “You’re still Uncle Jack. I’m still Auntie. We both still love him exactly the same.”
Jack nodded.
“Absolutely,” Jack said.
You took a sip of coffee.
“And then we let him ask questions,” you said.
Jack went still.
You lowered the mug. “What?” you asked.
Jack studied you.
“How many questions?” Jack asked.
You laughed.
“He’s nine, Jack,” you reminded him.
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“That did not answer my question,” Jack said.
“We answer whatever he needs to ask,” you replied.
Jack stared at you for a moment.
“That feels dangerously open-ended,” Jack said.
“You’ve handled mass casualties,” you reminded him.
Jack stepped into the space between you and the counter.
“I have never treated a mass casualty capable of asking follow-up questions,” Jack replied.
A laugh escaped you. Jack smiled. The sight still felt new somehow. Not Jack smiling. Jack smiling at you like this. Without pulling it back afterward. Without remembering that there was somewhere else one of you was eventually supposed to go.
You set your coffee down. “We’ll be fine,” you said.
Jack’s hand settled at your waist.
“You seem very confident,” Jack replied.
You rested your hand against his chest.
“I am,” you said.
Jack tilted his head.
“About Carter?” Jack asked.
You shook your head.
“About us,” you replied.
Jack’s expression changed.
The teasing disappeared, leaving something warmer behind. His thumb brushed once over your side.
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Me too.”
Jack leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
The front door opened.
“I’m home!” Carter called from the entryway.
Jack froze.
Your eyes closed.
A brief thud came from the front of the house, followed by the sound of shoes against the floor.
Jack slowly lifted his head.
You looked at him. “So much for the plan,” you whispered.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“We still have a plan,” Jack murmured.
You looked toward the doorway.
Carter stood there with his overnight bag hanging from one shoulder.
His eyes were enormous.
His gaze went first to Jack. Then to you. Then to Jack’s hand still resting at your waist.
Carter’s mouth fell open.
The overnight bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.
For one suspended second, Carter simply stared.
Then both of his arms shot into the air.
“YES!” Carter yelled.
You burst out laughing.
Carter took off across the kitchen.
Jack barely had time to brace himself before Carter threw himself into the space between you, wrapping both arms around your waist and twisting enough to catch Jack too.
“I knew it!” Carter shouted as he squeezed both of you.
Jack’s arm came around him automatically.
“Easy,” Jack said through his laugh. “Easy.”
Carter only squeezed harder.
“It worked!” Carter announced.
You wrapped your arm around his shoulders.
“I take it you’re okay with this?” you asked.
Carter pulled back far enough to stare at you.
“Okay with it?” Carter repeated incredulously. “Are you actually together?”
Jack looked down at him.
“Yes,” Jack said. “We are.”
Carter’s entire face brightened.
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend,” you confirmed.
Carter looked toward Jack.
“For real?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“For real,” Jack replied.
Carter’s eyes darted between the two of you.
“Did you kiss?” Carter asked.
You opened your mouth to answer, but Carter immediately turned toward Jack.
“Who kissed who?” Carter asked.
Before Jack could respond, Carter looked back at you.
“Did Uncle Jack tell you he likes you?” Carter asked.
Carter’s gaze jumped to Jack again.
“Or did Auntie tell you first?” Carter asked.
Jack stared at him.
Carter continued without taking a breath.
“Are you going to go on dates?” Carter asked.
His eyes widened with another thought.
“Are you going to live together?” Carter asked.
Carter pointed toward you.
“Would Auntie move into Uncle Jack’s house?” Carter asked.
Then he pointed toward Jack.
“Or would Uncle Jack move into Auntie’s house?” Carter continued.
Carter dropped his hands.
“Can I sleep over there?” Carter asked.
You pressed your lips together.
Carter looked between the two of you one more time.
“Are you getting married?” Carter asked.
Silence finally fell over the kitchen.
Jack stared at him.
Carter stared back expectantly.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Jack slowly turned his head toward you.
“You said whatever questions he has,” Jack reminded you.
You lost the battle and laughed.
Carter looked between you again.
“So?” Carter prompted.
You reached down and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Sit down,” you said. “We will answer some of these questions.”
Carter immediately turned toward the living room.
“Which ones?” Carter asked as he hurried away.
Jack bent to pick up Carter’s abandoned overnight bag.
“That depends on how quickly you stop asking new ones,” Jack replied.
Carter reached the couch and climbed onto it.
“I really want to know the house one,” Carter called from the living room.
You followed him. “Of course you do,” you said.
Jack came behind you carrying the overnight bag. Carter settled against the couch cushions.
“And the married one,” Carter added.
Jack stopped.
You looked back at him.
For the briefest second, his expression went carefully blank.
You raised an eyebrow.
Jack recovered quickly and set Carter’s bag beside the couch.
“We’re starting with the easy questions,” Jack said.
Carter frowned at him.
“I thought that was an easy one,” Carter replied.
Jack lowered himself onto the other side of Carter.
“It is not,” Jack said.
You sat beside Carter, trying very hard not to smile at Jack.
If only Carter knew just how much thought Uncle Jack had already given to that particular question.
Carter sat between you on the couch, looking from your face to Jack’s like he had just been granted permission to conduct the most important interview of his life.
Jack rested one arm along the back of the couch.
“All right,” Jack said. “One question at a time.”
Carter nodded seriously.
“Who kissed who?” Carter asked.
You pointed toward Jack. “He kissed me,” you said.
Jack tilted his head.
“Technically, you kissed me first,” Jack corrected.
You turned toward him. “On the cheek,” you said.
Jack shrugged. “A kiss is a kiss,” he replied.
You stared at him.
“That does not count,” you said.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“It counted to me,” Jack replied.
Carter’s eyes widened.
“When was this?” Carter asked.
You looked back at him.
“On our first date,” you said.
Carter leaned forward.
“You had a first date?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“We did,” Jack confirmed.
Carter looked delighted.
“So Auntie kissed you first?” Carter asked.
Jack pointed toward him.
“Exactly,” Jack said.
You gave Jack a look.
“On the cheek,” you repeated.
Jack looked completely unbothered.
“Still counts,” Jack replied.
You shook your head.
“Then you kissed me for real,” you said.
Jack’s gaze shifted toward yours.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I did.”
Something warm passed between you. Carter looked back and forth between your faces.
“And last night?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“Jack kissed me first,” you replied.
Carter turned toward him. “Again?” he asked.
Jack nodded once.
“Again,” Jack said.
Carter sat back against the cushions.
“Okay,” Carter said. “So Uncle Jack is the kisser.”
Jack stared at him.
You burst out laughing.
“I am not the kisser,” Jack said.
Carter’s eyebrows lifted.
“You kissed her first twice,” Carter pointed out.
Jack looked toward you.
“This line of questioning is over,” Jack said.
You were still laughing.
“I think the evidence is pretty strong,” you teased.
Jack gave you a betrayed look.
“You are supposed to be on my side now,” Jack said.
You leaned closer.
“I am,” you replied. “You’re still the kisser.”
Carter grinned. Jack sighed.
“Next question,” Jack said.
Carter immediately sat straighter.
“Did Uncle Jack tell you he likes you?” Carter asked.
You glanced toward Jack.
“He told me considerably more than that,” you replied.
Carter’s attention snapped to him. Jack shifted slightly beside you.
“I told your aunt I love her,” Jack said.
Carter’s mouth fell open.
“You did?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“I did,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you so quickly his shoulder bumped yours.
“Did you say it back?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“I did,” you confirmed.
Carter made a delighted little noise and sank backward into the couch.
“This is so much better than I thought,” Carter said.
Jack looked toward you.
“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to questions,” Jack muttered.
Carter popped upright again.
“Are you going to go on dates?” Carter asked.
You nodded.
“Yes,” you said. “We are definitely going to go on dates.”
Carter smiled. Then his expression turned thoughtful.
“Are you going to live together?” Carter asked.
You and Jack exchanged a look.
“That one we don’t know yet,” you said.
Carter frowned.
“Why not?” Carter asked.
Jack leaned forward and rested his forearms against his thighs.
“Because we just decided to be together last night,” Jack explained. “We don’t have to decide everything else today.”
Carter considered that.
“But you might live together?” Carter asked.
Jack glanced toward you.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Someday, we might.”
Carter perked up immediately.
“Would Auntie move into your house?” Carter asked.
Jack’s mouth opened.
Carter turned toward you before he could answer.
“Or would Uncle Jack move into your house?” Carter asked.
You laughed.
“We definitely don’t know that yet,” you replied.
Carter thought for a moment.
“Uncle Jack has the bigger TV,” Carter said.
Jack nodded slowly.
“Good to know that will be a factor in negotiations,” Jack replied.
Carter looked toward you.
“But Auntie has the better couch,” Carter added.
You nodded. “Obviously,” you said.
Jack looked offended.
“My couch is fine,” Jack said.
Carter shook his head.
“It’s scratchy,” Carter replied.
You reached across Carter and patted Jack’s knee.
“This is valuable feedback,” you said.
Jack gave you a look. Carter’s eyes widened with another thought.
“If you live together, can I sleep over?” Carter asked.
Jack’s expression softened immediately.
“You can sleep over whether we live together or not,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward you.
“At both houses?” Carter asked.
You nodded.
“At both houses,” you confirmed.
Carter smiled. Then he looked between you again.
“Are you getting married?” Carter asked.
Jack went very still beside you. You felt it. You looked toward him. Jack kept his expression carefully neutral.
“We are not planning a wedding twelve hours into dating,” you said.
Carter shrugged.
“You already dated before,” Carter pointed out.
Jack slowly turned toward him.
“That is an aggressive interpretation of the timeline,” Jack said.
Carter frowned.
“But you did,” Carter insisted.
You bit back a smile.
“He has a point,” you told Jack.
Jack looked toward you.
“Do not side with him,” Jack said.
Carter leaned forward.
“So maybe?” Carter asked.
Jack rubbed one hand over his jaw.
“Maybe is the most you are getting out of us today,” Jack replied.
Carter smiled.
“I’ll take maybe,” Carter said.
You laughed.
Of course he would.
Carter shifted against the cushions.
“Does Dad know?” Carter asked.
You shook your head.
“Not yet,” you replied. “We’re going to tell him when he gets home.”
Carter’s entire posture changed.
“I can tell him,” Carter offered immediately.
Jack shook his head.
“No,” Jack said.
Carter’s shoulders dropped.
“Why not?” Carter asked.
Jack looked at him.
“Because it’s our news,” Jack explained.
Carter pointed toward himself.
“I helped,” Carter argued.
Jack narrowed his eyes.
“You contributed,” Jack allowed.
Carter grinned.
“That means I should get to tell him,” Carter said.
“It does not,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you for support.
You shook your head.
“Uncle Jack and I are telling him,” you said.
Carter sighed dramatically.
“Fine,” Carter replied.
Nothing about his face suggested he intended to handle that information calmly.
For a few seconds, he was quiet.
Then his expression changed. The excitement softened into something more thoughtful.
Carter looked down at his hands.
“I think Mom would be happy,” Carter said.
The room seemed to still.
Your breath caught.
Jack’s expression changed beside you.
Carter looked toward him.
“Dad says Mom loved you,” Carter said.
Jack swallowed.
“I loved her too,” Jack replied quietly.
Carter turned toward you.
“And she loved Auntie,” Carter added.
Your eyes burned.
“She was my best friend,” you said.
Carter nodded.
“I know,” Carter replied.
He looked between the two of you.
“So I think she’d like this,” Carter said. “Us being a family like this.”
Your throat tightened.
You reached for him and pulled him against your side.
Carter came willingly.
“I think she would too,” you said softly.
Jack moved closer. His hand settled gently against the back of Carter’s head.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I think she’d be pretty happy about it.”
Carter rested against you for a moment. Then he tipped his head back to look at Jack.
“Would she make fun of you?” Carter asked.
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Relentlessly,” Jack replied.
You laughed through the tightness in your throat.
“She absolutely would,” you agreed.
Carter smiled.
“Good,” Carter said.
Jack looked toward you over Carter’s head.
For a moment, the three of you stayed there.
Then Carter abruptly sat up.
“What time does Dad’s plane land?” Carter asked.
Jack exhaled.
“There he is,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward the clock.
“How long until he gets home?” Carter asked.
“A few hours,” you replied.
Carter groaned and collapsed backward against the couch.
“A few hours?” Carter complained.
Jack leaned back beside him.
“You will survive,” Jack said.
Carter sat up again.
“Can we call him?” Carter asked.
“No,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you.
“Can we FaceTime him?” Carter asked.
You shook your head.
“No,” you said. “We’re waiting until he gets home.”
Carter looked back at Jack.
“Can I at least text him and ask when he’ll be here?” Carter asked.
Jack considered it.
“You can ask when he’ll be home,” Jack allowed. “You cannot tell him why.”
Carter was already scrambling off the couch.
“I’m texting him,” Carter announced.
Jack caught the back of his shirt before he made it two steps.
“No clues,” Jack warned.
Carter twisted around.
“I know how to keep a secret,” Carter said.
Jack stared at him. Carter stared back. You burst out laughing.
Jack released his shirt.
“That statement is not supported by the evidence,” Jack said.
For the next few hours, Carter became nearly impossible to contain.
He checked the time. Then the flight status. Then the time again. Then he stood at the front window despite knowing Robby was nowhere near the house yet.
Jack tried to ignore him.
He failed.
“You checking the driveway is not going to make his plane land faster,” Jack said from the couch.
Carter let the curtain fall.
“It could make the ride from the airport faster,” Carter argued.
Jack looked over the top of his book.
“That is not how transportation works,” Jack replied.
Carter groaned and wandered back toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, you passed behind Jack on your way upstairs. His hand caught yours automatically. You stopped and looked down at him.
“Jack,” you said.
Jack lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“What?” Jack asked.
You smiled.
“Nothing,” you replied. “You’re just very clingy today.”
Jack looked completely unapologetic.
“I missed twenty years,” Jack said. “I’m catching up.”
Your heart squeezed. You leaned down and kissed him. Jack caught the back of your neck and kept you there for another second.
“Love you,” Jack murmured against your mouth.
You smiled.
“Love you too,” you replied.
From the front window, Carter groaned.
“Dad is taking forever,” Carter complained.
Jack let his forehead fall against yours.
“Your nephew has terrible timing,” Jack murmured.
You smiled.
“Our nephew,” you corrected.
Jack went still. His eyes lifted to yours. Something warm moved across his face.
“Yeah,” Jack said softly. “Our nephew.”
Carter called from the other room. “I can hear you!”
You laughed and pulled away. Jack kept hold of your hand for another second before letting you go.
“Of course he can,” Jack muttered.
You headed upstairs to shower.
Jack lasted twelve minutes.
He told himself he was looking for his phone charger. Then he told himself he needed the shirt he had left in the guest room. By the time he reached the hallway, even Jack had stopped pretending. The bathroom door opened. You appeared in the doorway with a towel wrapped around your body, another twisted loosely around your damp hair.
Jack stopped in the middle of the hallway.
You looked up.
His gaze moved slowly over you.
“Seriously?” you asked.
Jack did not even attempt innocence.
“Fuck,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“You have seen me naked,” you reminded him.
Jack stepped closer.
“That does not appear to have helped,” Jack replied.
You adjusted the towel at your chest.
“Did you need something?” you asked.
Jack’s eyes flicked briefly toward the guest room.
“I had a reason for coming upstairs,” Jack said.
You raised an eyebrow.
“And now?” you asked.
Jack looked back at you.
“I have a different reason,” Jack replied.
Your mouth curved.
“Jack,” you warned.
He reached you and rested both hands lightly at your waist.
“I’m looking,” Jack said.
“I noticed,” you replied.
Jack leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Then your temple. You laughed and tried to push him back.
“Carter is downstairs,” you reminded him.
Jack pressed another kiss just beneath your ear.
“I am aware,” Jack murmured.
“You are behaving like a teenager,” you added.
Jack lifted his head.
“I behaved better as a teenager,” Jack replied.
You stared at him.
“That is deeply concerning,” you said.
Jack kissed you again.
A shout came from downstairs.
“UNCLE JACK!” Carter shouted.
Jack closed his eyes. You started laughing against his chest.
“What?” Jack called.
Carter’s voice carried up the stairs. “Dad’s flight landed!”
Jack rested his forehead against yours.
“Wonderful,” Jack muttered.
You smiled.
“You should go congratulate him,” you said.
Jack’s hands stayed at your waist.
“I’m busy,” Jack replied.
You laughed and pushed gently at his chest.
“Go,” you said.
Jack reluctantly stepped back. His gaze dropped over you one more time.
You pointed toward the stairs. “Jack.”
Jack looked at you.
“Fuck,” Jack repeated.
You shut the bathroom door in his face.
Jack stood there for a second.
Then he smiled to himself and headed downstairs.
By the time he returned to the living room, Carter was holding Robby’s flight information on the tablet like breaking news.
“He landed,” Carter announced.
Jack lowered himself onto the couch.
“You have mentioned that,” Jack replied.
Carter sat beside him.
“So how long now?” Carter asked.
Jack checked the time.
“Long enough that staring out the window still will not help,” Jack replied.
Carter sighed.
A few minutes later, you came downstairs dressed and still drying the ends of your hair.
Jack looked up.
And forgot whatever Carter had just been saying.
You caught him staring. Again.
“What?” you asked.
Jack shook his head.
“Nothing,” Jack replied.
You narrowed your eyes.
“That was definitely something,” you said.
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Damn it, Robinavitch,” Jack murmured.
You smiled.
“What am I doing?” you asked.
Jack stood and crossed toward you.
“That,” Jack said.
He leaned down and stole another kiss. Quick. Soft. Still enough to make you smile against his mouth.
When he pulled back, his hand remained at your waist.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” Jack admitted.
“You’re doing a pretty bad job of trying,” you replied.
“I’m not trying very hard,” Jack said.
You brushed your thumb along his jaw. “I noticed.”
Jack kissed your forehead.
“Love you,” Jack said.
Your expression softened.
“Love you too,” you replied.
From the couch, Carter made an exaggerated sound of disgust. You both looked toward him. Carter was grinning.
“You guys are weird now,” Carter said.
Jack pointed at him.
“You did this,” Jack replied.
Carter’s grin widened.
“I know,” Carter said.
An hour later, the sound of a key turning in the front door sent Carter flying out of the living room.
Jack looked up from the couch.
“Easy,” Jack called after him.
Carter ignored him.
The front door opened.
Robby stepped inside with his conference bag over one shoulder and his suitcase rolling behind him.
“Dad!” Carter shouted.
Robby barely had time to let go of the suitcase before Carter threw himself at him.
“Hey, buddy,” Robby said, laughing as he caught him.
Carter wrapped both arms around his middle.
“You’re home!” Carter said.
“I’m home,” Robby confirmed.
Carter pulled back.
For one second, he simply grinned up at his father.
Then his entire body seemed to remember the secret. His eyes widened. His shoulders lifted. He bounced once on the balls of his feet.
“I have to tell you something,” Carter announced.
You appeared behind him.
“Carter,” you warned.
Jack came up beside you.
“Let him get through the door,” Jack said.
Carter looked back at both of you.
“But it’s important,” Carter argued.
You pointed toward Robby’s suitcase.
“Your father has been traveling all day,” you reminded him. “Give him a minute.”
Carter groaned. Robby looked between the three of you.
“What did I miss?” Robby asked.
Jack reached for the handle of Robby’s suitcase.
“Nothing that can’t wait a minute,” Jack replied.
Carter made a frustrated sound. You smiled at Robby.
“How was the flight?” you asked.
Carter stared at you in disbelief. Robby shrugged off his conference bag.
“Fine,” Robby said. “Long.”
You nodded.
“And the conference?” you asked.
Carter threw his head back.
“Come on!” Carter groaned.
Robby looked toward him, laughing.
“What?” Robby asked.
Carter bounced again.
“I have something important to tell you,” Carter repeated.
Jack gave him a warning look. “Give your dad a second.”
Carter pressed his lips together. He visibly tried. His shoulders rose with one breath. Then another.
You watched him hold it in. Three seconds. Maybe four.
Then Carter exploded.
“UNCLE JACK KISSED AUNTIE AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND THEY’RE GOING TO MOVE IN TOGETHER AND GET MARRIED!” Carter shouted.
Silence filled the entryway.
Jack closed his eyes.
You covered your mouth with one hand.
Robby stared at Carter.
Carter grinned up at him.
Jack opened his eyes.
“We did not say the last two things,” Jack said.
Carter turned toward him.
“You said maybe,” Carter argued.
Jack pointed toward him.
“Maybe does not mean announce it to your father,” Jack replied.
Robby slowly looked toward you. Then toward Jack. His expression changed.
“You two are together?” Robby asked.
Jack’s hand found yours.
“Yeah,” you said. “We are.”
Jack squeezed your fingers.
“We are,” Jack confirmed.
Robby stared at both of you for a second. Then his face softened.
Not surprised.
Relieved.
Happy.
“Finally,” Robby said.
Carter threw both arms into the air.
“I did it!” Carter shouted.
Jack turned toward him.
“You contributed,” Jack said.
Carter pointed between you and Jack.
“You were not together before,” Carter argued. “Now you are.”
Jack stared at him. Carter grinned.
“I got them together,” Carter announced to Robby.
Jack’s eyebrows lifted.
“We are grown adults, Carter,” Jack said.
Carter shrugged.
“You needed help,” Carter replied.
You burst out laughing. Robby looked toward Carter.
“He has a pretty strong case,” Robby said.
Jack looked at him.
“Do not encourage him,” Jack replied.
Robby laughed.
“I leave for one conference,” Robby said.
Carter beamed.
“And I fixed everything,” Carter replied.
Jack rubbed one hand over his face.
“That is not what happened,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward you.
“It kind of is,” Carter argued.
You bit back a smile.
“I am staying out of this,” you said.
Jack gave you a betrayed look.
“Coward,” Jack replied.
Robby’s attention shifted back to the two of you. His amusement softened.
“So this is it?” Robby asked.
The question quieted the room.
You looked toward Jack.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “This is it.”
Jack’s thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“It is,” Jack confirmed.
Robby nodded slowly.
Then he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. You let go of Jack long enough to wrap both arms around your brother.
Robby held you tightly for a moment.
“About time you two got together,” Robby murmured.
You smiled against his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you said. “It really is.”
Robby pulled back and looked at you.
“Took you long enough,” Robby replied.
Then he looked toward Jack. Jack lifted one eyebrow. Robby stepped closer and clasped a hand around Jack’s shoulder.
“You good?” Robby asked.
Jack glanced toward you. His gaze softened.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I’m good.”
Robby studied him for a second. Then he smiled.
“Good,” Robby replied.
Carter tugged on Robby’s sleeve.
“And they might get married,” Carter reminded him.
Jack groaned.
“Carter,” Jack said.
You pointed toward Carter.
“That part is currently under review,” you said.
Carter nodded seriously.
“I’m optimistic,” Carter replied.
Robby laughed.
Jack looked toward you. You looked back at him. His mouth curved.
And for once, neither of you looked away.
By the time you and Jack finally left Robby’s house, the afternoon had begun to soften toward evening.
Carter had hugged both of you twice before letting you go.
Robby followed you to the front door while Jack reached for his jacket.
Carter hovered beside him.
“You know I’m still taking credit for this,” Carter said.
Jack pulled on his jacket.
“We know,” Jack replied.
Carter grinned.
Robby opened the door for you, then looked between you and Jack.
His expression softened.
“I’m really happy for you guys,” Robby said.
You smiled.
“Thanks, Robby,” you replied.
Robby looked toward Jack. Jack met his gaze.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Thanks.”
Robby nodded once. There was something almost relieved in it.
“About damn time,” Robby added.
You laughed. Jack sighed.
“There it is,” Jack said.
Robby’s grin widened.
“You knew it was coming,” Robby replied.
Carter leaned around his father.
“I got them together,” Carter reminded him.
Jack pointed toward the driveway.
“We’re leaving now,” Jack said.
Carter laughed. You hugged Robby once more before stepping outside.
“Love you,” you said.
Robby squeezed you.
“Love you too,” Robby replied.
Jack waited beside you until you pulled away.
Then the two of you headed down the driveway toward your separate cars.
You stopped beside yours while Jack crossed toward his truck. For a moment, neither of you opened a door. Jack looked across the driveway at you.
“Any big plans tonight, Robinavitch?” Jack asked.
You rested one hand on the roof of your car.
“Very big,” you replied. “Laundry. Takeout. Reality television in my sweatpants.”
Jack nodded slowly.
“Hot,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“Try to contain yourself,” you replied.
Jack leaned against the side of his truck.
“Not going particularly well today,” Jack admitted.
Your smile softened. Jack looked at you for another second.
“You want some company?” Jack asked.
The question sounded casual.
Almost.
But you heard everything underneath it.
Not only tonight.
Not only the weekend.
The ordinary parts too.
You smiled.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Your place?” Jack asked.
You nodded.
“My couch is better,” you reminded him.
Jack smiled.
“I know,” Jack admitted.
You stared at him.
“Oh, now you admit it?” you asked.
Jack reached for his truck door.
“I’m trying to get invited over,” Jack replied.
You laughed.
“You're buying dinner,” you said.
Jack nodded.
“Done,” Jack replied.
You paused before getting inside.
“Jack?” you called.
He looked over the roof of his truck.
“Yeah?” Jack asked.
You smiled.
“Love you,” you said.
Jack’s expression softened immediately.
“Love you too, Robinavitch,” Jack replied.
You climbed into your car.
Jack got into his truck.
And when you pulled out of Robby’s driveway a few minutes later, Jack’s truck stayed behind you all the way home.
