Words: 1,419
Summary: Since a new nurse had joined the pitt, no one was sure who Robby thought he was fooling, acting like he was keeping his relationship with her a secret. (Read Part Two Here)
Note(s)/Warning(s): Younger!Reader, Reader is a nurse,
Masterlist | Support Me!
No one who worked in the pitt was sure who exactly Robby and Y/N were trying to fool. Really, no one was sure who Robby was trying to fool.
The betting board for their relationship was overfilled, more sticky notes seeming to be added to it as the weeks go by. Just about everyone had a bet they wanted to make, then a second bet, and a third bet.
Because it wasn’t just enough to have a bet for when exactly they would reveal they were together (finally). There was also one for how long they had been together. How they got together. A smaller bet for whether or not they were married. Because it was clearly a serious relationship.
Robby may have had a history of seven week “relationships” and his thing with Collins. But no one had ever seen the chief attending like this.
Which really what they meant by that was Robby was… touchy with her.
The first time Santos had seen it, Dr. Robby squeezing the shoulders of Y/N, a woman around her age, a nurse that had only started a week ago, she had to bite her tongue to not shout at him to not touch her. She had briskly asked him for help with her patient, swallowing the embarrassment for asking him for his help with such a minor injury, as she got him away from the new nurse.
Soon everyone started to see it. Robby would give her a quick squeeze to the shoulders when entering and exiting a room if she was nearby and it wasn’t utter chaos. When things were slow and they both were standing by the nurse’s station, he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a quick hug. Princess swore she once saw Robby kiss her on the top of the head, Jesse quietly nodding along.
It was an oddity for a man that only seemed to be comfortable with Dr. Abbot when it came to physical touch.
The slightly personal conversations and comments people overheard them say to each other or about each other didn’t help.
Robby asking her if she was still coming over for dinner.
Her response to Mel asking how long her and Robby know each other being years. Which had earned more than a few wide eyes from people with how much younger she was than Robby, plus a few peoples bets for how long they had been together being revised.
Once a week, she’d nag him about his caffeine intake while calling him an old man.
And more recently Robby quietly but repeatedly asking her if she was sure she wanted to switch to the night shift.
It all added up to a serious committed relationship that no one had really seen coming from Robby or expected from him.
—
Mel didn’t love arriving for her shift thirty minutes early. She actually would prefer to take the bus that came five minutes later, it’s route nicer, the driver more kind. But not coming thirty minutes early meant not being able to ease herself into the atmosphere of the pitt.
Some days she was fine without it. She didn’t need to ease herself in, to feel it out. But other days, like today, she needed that time. She needed to let herself breathe the antiseptic air, hear the constant noises of people moving, machines beeping, voices going from loud to quiet with no warning.
She gives a small nod to Dr. Shen as she passes by, the attending thankfully to busy to stop her to talk to her. And she hoped that she’d be able to catch him for even a minute before he left. She liked talking to Dr. Shen. He was always very relaxed.
Disappearing around the corner, her feet easily lead her to a practically abandoned hallway. She’s only seen other people in it a handful of times and it’s the perfect place for her to just be for thirty minutes.
Mel’s eyes widen however when she looks up from her feet and sees two people kissing. Mouth falling open with a quiet, oh.
It’s fine, she thinks. The break room will be fine too. But she doesn’t move fast enough and sees the two people break apart. Sees that it’s Dr. Abbot and Y/N who had been kissing. And somehow she manages to not make a noise as she quickly escapes the previously sacred hallway and escapes to the bathroom where she hurriedly locks herself in a stall.
Poor Dr. Robby is the first thing her brain manages to think. It then thinks wasn’t expecting that from Dr. Abbot. It then rather unhelpfully thinks, we have to tell Dr. Robby.
She groans into her hands at the thought.
How did you ever tell anyone they were being cheated on? Let alone your boss who also just happens to be being cheated on, with his best friend being the person that his girlfriend is cheating on him with.
“This is why relationships are not worth it.” She mutters. She then cringes, because not only is she going to have to tell Dr. Robby, she’s also scheduled to work a double, she’ll be unable to escape the horrible awkward atmosphere of the pitt for twenty-four hours.
She wonders if Presby needs a resident or if the VA will take her back. She doesn’t know if she could come back to work at the pitt after having to tell her boss he’s being cheated on.
She lets herself consider leaving the pitt for another hospital for another moment before forcing herself out of the bathroom stall and to the sink, where she dutifully washes her hands, despite not going to the bathroom, and she exits the bathroom, a mixed sigh of relief and despair leaving her as she sees Dr. Robby entering the break room.
Mel quickly follows, just managing to catch the door before it shuts.
Dr. Robby looks up at the sound of footsteps. “Dr. King, good morning.”
“Dr. Robby.” She manages to say with an awkward smile. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. Or tell you about something really.”
His eyebrows furrow, a sigh leaving him. “Is it work related? Because if so, we’ve got fifteen minutes til handoff, and I will happily talk to you about it then.”
“Uh, no. Unfortunately not.”
A surprised look flashes across his face and he leans back against the counter. “Then, yes. We can talk or you can tell me something.”
She eyes the coffee cup in his hand, wondering if she should ask him to set it down, but doesn’t want to add another odd request to this conversation.
“I’d like to just apologize first because I really wish I hadn’t seen it and that I didn’t have to tell you. Not that, you don’t deserve to know! You do and you should know, I just wish that I wasn’t the one who had…” She trails off, seeing the amused look on Dr. Robby’s face, forcing herself to take a deep breath.
“I always come into work early, let myself acclimate. And I always go to the hallway over here that like never has anyone in it.” She explains. “And well, this morning, I went over there and uh,” She clears her throat, head tilting side to side ever so slightly as she tries to figure out how to word what she saw. “Well, this morning I saw Dr. Abbot and uh, well, I saw Dr. Abbot and Nurse Y/N kissing.”
Mel hadn’t been sure how she expected Dr. Robby to react when she told him. Probably sad, angry, confused, maybe even denial. She was not expecting how his entire body seems to still, the amused look on his face slipping away and being replaced by a coldness that makes her shiver and take a small step back.
“What?”
She clears her throat. “I saw Dr. Abbot and Nurse Y/N kissing, in the hallway.”
“You saw Jack kissing my daughter?”
“Oh no.” Mel breathes, eyes wide. Oh, this was so much worse than having to tell Dr. Robby he was being cheated on. She would actually have to switch hospitals now. “Yes.” She manages to squeak out, realizing he’s still waiting for her to confirm what she said.
She’s barely able to blink before he’s pushing away from the counter and carefully moving past her and out the break room door.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
You like to think that life has been treating you well after leaving Dormont and the House of Change behind. Vaugarde is saved, the timeloop is over, you have your whole family with you, and you even brought Bonnie all the way home to their sister!
But beyond the fading veil of a desperately made wish, something to the north of Vaugarde is stirring to life once more. There's a beacon on the horizon that's getting brighter by the day. More and more forgotten memories are popping up from the dark abyss they once disappeared into.
And maybe, just maybe, that impossible fantasy of going home might not be so impossible anymore.
… If only your only clue on how to get there wasn't a literal child that just crashed down from the sky.
Illustrations done by @wndelta and @hallasammal
beta read by @boxeption
Special thanks to @chipper-smol for hosting the artbang!
Words: 773
Summary: Max asks her if she wants to have sex and she says no before instantly freezing.
Note(s)/Warning(s): Mild NSFW for discussions about sex. Max is kind of boyfriend goals in this fic but also like the bar is in fucking hell man.
Masterlist | Support Me!
"Do you want to have sex?"
She doesn't even blink at Max's blunt question, her head doesn't even raise from where it's buried in what she's doing.
It's not the first time Max has asked her that, she's lost count in the last year and a half that they've been together.
Max was blunt about everything and while he could and often did go for more a subtle approach when he wanted sex, she couldn't help but smile a little every time he bluntly asked her. It was a turn on in itself usually, that he didn't feel the need to be subtle, to be charming, he felt like he could just be himself.
This time, for the first time, it doesn't bring a smile to her face. Eyes flickering over her laptop screen as her nose scrunches up as she makes another note. "Not right now, in an hour maybe."
The words leave her lips without thought but after they've escaped she instantly freezes, eyes going wide. Why had she said that? Why had she done that? She should've just said yes.
"Sounds good to me." The sincere tone in Max's voice makes her wince. And she shuts her laptop with another wince.
"We can," she stumbles over her words. "We can have sex right now."
He looks at her with raised eyebrows, not moving from the couch. "You said in an hour." He gives a shrug. "That's good for me. I wasn't asking for sex right now, just asking if you wanted sex today."
"I don't want to give you blue balls."
Max blinks at her meek tone, her guilty expression, and he moves off the couch and over to her. He moves her laptop off her lap and puts it gently down before crouching down in front of her, purposely putting himself below her, under her, and reaches for her hands but only grabs them when she reaches in turn.
"Blue balls aren't a thing." He starts with and she immediately protests.
"But,"
"No, they aren't. They are something guys say because they want sex and don't care how they get it or about who they are sleeping with."
She can't help but smile at how blunt he is, at the distaste on his face, the anger hiding behind it because she doesn't have to say where she got the idea of blue balls. It was the same place she got the idea that her orgasm ing every time they had sex wasn't a thing. Her past relationships had been lacking, in some ways she was aware of and other ways she only realized once her and Max got together.
"I hate guys like that. I've never understood it. If your that turned on, fuck your hand. Don't pressure someone." Max continues to rant, passionate and angry in a way she only really sees him get when a race goes horribly wrong. It also happens to be a major turn on.
And now she doesn't want to have sex in hour, well she might want to have sex again in an hour, but she wants to have sex right now.
She makes a small uh huh sound when his eyes cut to her mid rant, wanting to know if she agrees, and the small absent minded sound of agreement lets him continue. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she watches him. Watches the way his face is now flushed red, the red no longer just creeping up his neck. Max is gorgeous when angry and she can't clench her thighs together, can't rub them together, get some sort of relief, not with how Max has put himself.
So she waits.
She waits for him to take a breath and before he can open his mouth to start ranting again and she makes sure to do this sparingly. Because she knows that nearly everyone in Max's life has told him to shut up, has told him to be quiet, to stop talking. But she loves to hear him talk, to rant, to ramble. But she thinks if he doesn't touch her, she doesn't touch him, in the next minute, she might somehow orgasm just from watching him be worked up.
He takes a breath and she leans forward, down slightly, and steals the breath from him. Lips slotting together.
When they break apart and her eyes open again, though she's not sure when she closed them, she stares into Max's wild eyes.
"Could we have sex? Right now?"
A smile grows across his face, a breathless sort of laugh leaving him. "Yeah, we can have sex right now."
Words: 1,017
Summary: She never calls during a race weekend. Doesn’t want to chance being a distraction or interrupting something, but this weekend she calls GP.
Warning(s)/Note(s): Pregnant Reader, Mentions/Fears of Having A Miscarriage, Angst, Heavy Topic(s). This is inspired after seeing a video of an ER doctor being dismissive and rude to a person who came into the ER after falling and was worried about her baby. This is unfortunately something I’ve had people close to me experience and it really only takes one rude ER doctor to sour them all for you. If any doctor (or nurse) has ever been rude or dismissive to you; I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.
Masterlist | Support Me!
GP winces as Joe comes over the radio in the braking and Max instantly snaps at him. He’d defend the guy, but it was the third time it happened this session and there was really no reason for him to come over the radio right there. It’s all learning.
His phone ringing has him looking away from the data, gesturing at Alex to take over discussing final run plans for this practice session.
He doesn’t even get to say hello, answering without looking at whose calling.
“GP.”
“Y/N?” His brows furrow in confusion, she never called. Not just him, but at all during a race weekend. She’d text Max and anyone else on the team, but she let Max do the calling, not wanting to interrupt a meeting or distract him. “What’s wrong?”
The blood drains from his face as he listens to her and he’s quickly moving back over to the pit wall, taking the free headset and pressing the button for Max’s radio and speaking into the mic, barking practically at him to come back to the pits.
Joe starts to protest, but GP doesn’t even say anything, just shakes his head before moving over to Laurent, reassuring her as he does.
“Give me one second.” His voice is soft as he can make it before he’s muting the mic on his phone and looking Laurent dead in the eye and telling him what he was just told.
Laurent’s jaw drops and then he’s calling people over, Gemma immediately at his side and the rest quickly follow.
GP leaves as soon as Laurent starts to speak to them. He doesn’t know what excuse they’ll be giving the media and he doesn’t care as long as it’s not the truth.
Unmuting his phone, he watches as Max’s car is pushed back into the garage.
“I’ll have Max for you in just one more minute. I’m going to give him my phone, okay?”
“Okay.” She responds, shaky and GP doesn’t even wait for Max to start removing things before he’s tugging at him and pulling him out of the cockpit and to his driver’s room. He can hear muffled curses coming from Max behind his helmet, but he doesn’t stop and it’s only once they are in his driver’s room and Max has managed to get his helmet off and one glove that he passes him the phone, leaving the room before Max can say anything and finding Brad just outside.
“Max might not be racing. His crew needs to be prepared for him wanting to leave at the drop of the hat.”
Brad nods, eyes darting to the closed door. “What happened?”
“Y/N’s pregnant.”
Brad takes a deep inhale.
“She had some pain, went to the hospital, doctor was quite rude. She’s scared, doesn’t know what to do.” GP takes a deep breath. “There was bleeding.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.” GP agrees.
Brad runs a hand over his face. “I’ll call the crew, let them know.”
Watching Brad walk away, he knows that he shouldn’t just stay here outside the door, he has things he can and should be doing, but his feet won’t move.
He doesn’t know how long exactly he stands there, but then the door is opening and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Max look so scared and angry, his phone in his hand, held tightly against his ear.
“She doesn’t want me to leave, but she wants me.”
GP nods, eyes shutting for a second because that sounded like Y/N. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get an appointment for late this evening at a local hospital. I’m gonna call the crew, fly there, get her and come back. Should take six hours.”
GP nods, “I’ll get you one for 8:30.”
“I’ll message Laurent on the plane, I can’t,”
GP shakes his head, “I already told him what happened, he’s preparing for you not to be in the car for the rest of the weekend, which is still an option. We’ll take it hour by hour. Brad’s on the phone with the crew already, I’ll go track him down, tell him they need to be ready to fly in an hour, you get your stuff and get out of here.”
Max’s eyes look a little wet. “Thank you, GP. Thank you.”
“Of course, Max. Tell Y/N that her coming is fine, no one will mind.”
“I will.”
—
He doesn’t show up to the track until the third practice session is nearly half way done. He won’t be jumping in the car for it at all, so he doesn’t need to be here quite yet, but coming now means no photographers, everyone is busy.
It’s easy to get her without her being spotted into his driver’s room like this. Easily moving her so she’s comfortable on the couch.
“You feeling okay?” He murmurs, crouching by the couch, fingers gentle on her face as he traces where the tear tracks were.
“No. But maybe tomorrow.”
He nods, his other hand resting on her stomach, where thankfully, thank fucking god, their baby still is.
“Brad is ready to get you anything you want or need, so is Gemma. Brad agreed to sit with you as well.”
“Max,” she starts.
“Please.” He interrupts and his hand not on her stomach is moving, grabbing hers, intertwining their fingers. “Please. Yesterday was the scariest day of our lives. And I know that everything is fine. The doctor showed us, but I need someone to be with you while I can’t.”
She stares at him for a few seconds, lips trembling, before nodding. “Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He breathes and then he’s pressing their lips together. It wasn’t enough holding her all night and this morning, the soft reassuring kisses they’ve been sharing all morning. He doesn’t know if anything will ever be enough.
His whole world has grown, yet is still in just one singular body. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to not touch her, to not have her in reach, for the rest of his life.
Words: 1,817
Summary: When their son calls her a bitch, Andrew doesn’t even think about letting him get away with it.
Note(s)/Warning(s): Andrew and reader have a fifteen year old son called Isaac, Andrew Cody would go to war for his wife (and win), Andrew does threaten to hit his son if he insults her again (don’t be like Andrew, don’t hit your kids or threaten to)
Masterlist | Support Me!
“Dad?”
Andrew looks up from his plate, eyebrow raised as he swallows his second to last bite of dinner. “What?”
“Can I go to the mall tonight?”
He glances over at the clock on the wall, seeing that it’s nearly six. “What did your mom say?” And he looks across the table at her, to see her give a small shake of her head.
“She said no.”
Andrew looks at their son, unimpressed. “Then, it’s a no. You know that.”
“Take your plate to the kitchen and go finish up your homework.” She says before Isaac can start an argument.
Isaac rolls his eyes, but stands up, roughly grabbing his plate and Andrew has to bite his tongue, glaring at him. Fucking teenagers.
He starts to look back down at his plate, when he hears it and his head instantly snaps up.
“Such a fucking bitch.”
He catches the glare, so much like his own that Isaac throws his own mom and Andrew’s hands curl into fists at such a glare being directed at his own wife and it’s the sight of her face, the way she doesn’t look surprised, the just slight tiredness in her eyes, the barely there hurt in her eyes that has him standing. His chair practically getting thrown back into the wall as he follows Isaac up the stairs into his room, not allowing the door to shut in his face as he barges in, door slamming into the wall and he ignores the loud what the fuck.
He goes for the laptop first, shoving it under his one arm as he starts tossing the room. Throwing over half of his closet into the hall, gently tossing the laptop on them before more clothes get thrown onto the pile. He rips the framed posters off the wall next. Tossing them onto the pile of clothes as well.
“Dad, what the fuck are you doing? Stop!”
He ignores him, going for the rest of the fucking crap Andrew has let him spend their money on.
“Mom’s going to be pissed!” He protests when Andrew goes for the wall light she got custom made for him and the words make him stop, turning to look at him.
“Who?”
Isaac looks at him, exasperated. “Mom is going to be pissed.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to do that. Because my wife isn’t your mom and you for sure aren’t my fucking kid. My kid wouldn’t call his mom a bitch, so I don’t know who the fuck you are, but my wife could give a shit if I take back all the stuff her and I paid for and returned it or donated it to a kid that has some fucking respect for the woman who gave them life.”
“All I did was call her a bitch. You're being ridiculous!” He protests and Andrew gets in his face and he doesn’t like seeing his kid, his son, look at him with fear in his eyes, but he obviously raised his son wrong if he thought for a second that he could get away with calling his wife a bitch, calling his mom a bitch and repeating it, doubling down just about.
“Am I? Because me taking back the shit we paid for is you getting off light and there will be more. The last person to call my wife a bitch,” He shakes his head, able to feel the bloodthirsty look on his face. “He ate through a tube for months. It’s only because I know that I fucked up somewhere that I didn’t lay you out immediately. So, I’m going to take all this shit that we paid for and get rid of it. All you are going to do now, is go to school and that is it, oh besides finding a job and going to that because you probably are going to want this stuff back and you’ll just have to buy it back from wherever the fuck we got it from.” Andrew takes a step back, but raises his hands, resting them on his shoulders and squeezing tight. “This is your one and only warning. You call your mom a name again, you insult her again, you’ll be either missing a tooth or only able to open one eye for a week, understand me?”
Isaac nods after a moment, the movement small, a little fear still in his eyes, but it’s overtaken by how much he realized he fucked up.
“Good.” He gives him another squeeze to his shoulders before turning around and gathering the rest of his son’s former stuff more calmly, his skin itching as he realizes the mess he’s made of the hallway. “You aren’t to say a word for the rest of today or tomorrow to her, not unless it’s a good morning or a thank you. You’ll make yourself dinner tomorrow as well and clean up after yourself immediately. I also know this isn’t the first time you called her a bitch to her face.” He can see through the mirror how Isaac flinches and the guilt that floods his face. “I don’t think you want me to know the amount of times.”
“This was only the third time.”
Andrew’s jaw clenches, temper flaring, but he doesn’t turn around just continues on. “Three strikes, you're out.”
“I fucked up.”
“We can go with that.” Andrew allows. “You're also going to figure out, and you’ve got a week, how you are going to make this up to my wife. I want in writing, with steps and I’ll look it over. And it better have at least ten parts to it.”
“When will she become my mom again?”
Andrew smirks at the low sound of Isaac’s voice, at how much he’s realized he’s fucked up and picked up on it. “When you stop thinking of her as a bitch and prove it.” And he shuts his bedroom door behind him.
It takes him fifteen minutes to get all the things in the hallway into the spare room and organized by group. Tomorrow he’ll figure out what he can return and what has to be donated. Most of it will probably have to get donated, but a fair amount of the clothes still have tags on them from Isaac buying them this past weekend and Andrew still has all the receipts for everything from the past ten years.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Is the first thing he hears when he goes back downstairs, his eyes immediately meeting hers.
“Yes, I did.”
“Andrew,” She starts and he shakes his head.
“How long has he been calling you a bitch?”
Her lips thin together, breaking eye contact, but she answers. “He started two days ago. This was only the third time.”
He nods, he had known that Isaac wasn’t lying, but it was good to hear. “You should have told me after the first time.”
“He’s a teenager. Most teenagers call their mom a bitch.”
He shakes his head, stepping closer to her, hands settling on her hips. “Don’t treat it like a rite of passage. It’s not. It’s disrespectful and he knows better, should’ve known better.” He corrects himself. “I did something wrong.”
“Andrew,” her hands run over his shoulders and they drop under her touch, his body swaying closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did. He should’ve been afraid of even thinking of that word and you at the same time. Saying it? Calling you that three times?” He shakes his head. “I never wanted him to be scared of me, I was happy he wasn’t, but I should’ve made him realize that he wasn’t an exception, that there were just different consequences.”
He looks in her eyes, ducking his head a bit to fully make eye contact. “You're my wife, no one is allowed to call you a bitch, especially the little shit you spent hours in labor with.”
“I know.” She says after a moment, because she does know.
Before Andrew had calmed down, had mellowed out, he used to regularly lay out men who just gave her a dirty look. He still ran hot, his temper was just no longer on a hair trigger.
“So, what’s his punishment?”
He gives her the run-down, hands squeezing at her waist every time she winces or makes a face.
“I’m no longer his mom?”
He nods.
“Andrew, that’s not how that works. He’s my baby.”
“I’ll give you a new one.”
She glares at him, but he can only smile, seeing the way her pulse has jumped.
“It’s not for forever, just until he earns the right to call you mom. It’s a privilege to call you that, he’ll earn it back.” Andrew has no doubt about that. “And while he’s making it up to you, earning back his mom privilege we can try for another baby.”
“You want to give our fifteen-year-old son a sibling?”
He shrugs, smiling at her as he pulls her closer. “We never meant to only have one. And we could have more than one. We’ve still got the energy for it, the time, the money. There's three empty bedrooms, four counting the guest bedroom.”
She stares at him, at how serious he is, at how much thought he’s put into this. “I don’t know when I’ll be ovulating.” It’s a test and he aces it.
“You start tomorrow.”
“Which is why we have a dinner reservation?”
He shrugs, “I was going to bring it up tomorrow, our firstborn decided to take matters into his own hands.”
She shakes her head with a sigh, arms looping around his neck. “Isaac is going to be happy before getting grossed out that his parents are still having sex.”
Andrew scoffs, “He’ll be more grossed out when he realizes we have sex more often than not.”
“If my pregnancy with Isaac is anything to go by that will change to every night and morning.”
He laughs, kissing her. “I did miss those lunches I got.”
She giggles, nails digging lightly into his shoulders as he lifts her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he begins to carry her to their bedroom, knees slightly protesting as he gets to the stairs. “You’ve just missed eating me out when I was pregnant. That’s what this is really about.”
He can’t even deny it. “You tasted different then, I miss it.” He murmurs, teeth nipping at her jaw and he enjoys the way she has to stifle her moan as they go through the hallway.
“Please.” She whispers when they enter their bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.
“I’ll give you what you want. Don’t worry.”
She laughs, pulling him down with her when he puts her on the bed. “I’m not, just impatient.”
“You’ll get what you want.” He reassures.
“I know.” She smiles, before pressing a kiss to his lips. “I always do.”
Words: 7,242
Summary: After a week together, they part with a final kiss and unknowingly a baby growing inside her.
Note(s)/Warning(s): Slightly NSFW in the beginning. Found(ish) family is a huge part of this fic. Part two will be posted on August 21st, 2026 (welcoming back F1 from the summer break).
Masterlist | Support Me!
Week Zero
She lets out a giggle as Charles kisses his way up her body, leaving a slight stickiness on her stomach that is gone completely when he reaches her lips. “You are insatiable.” She murmurs against his lips.
He scoffs, drawing back to look at her. “It is not my fault you are so beautiful. I just can’t control myself.”
She makes a humming sound, stretching a little and watching as his eyes fixate on her breasts. “I know. This was supposed to be one night. And you’ve had me in this bed for six days.”
He grins, “And what an amazing six days they have been.”
And god wasn’t that true.
When she had met Charles at a club and had gone to his, she had been expecting a one night stand, maybe a nice one. She hadn’t expected to spend the rest of her vacation in his bed, unable to stop touching him or being touched by him. Every part of her body was sore and tired, had grown so on the third day, but she still found herself dropping to her knees or parting her legs for him.
Thinking about it has her thighs clenching despite the orgasm he just pulled from her, but before he can start again, she gently pushes him off her, rolling over to grab her phone.
“Fuck.” He breathes.
She smiles at the reaction. They hadn’t really bothered with clothes and yet still they both pulled reactions from each other like it was the first time.
Looking at her phone, she frowns seeing the reminder that her flight leaves the next morning. She quickly sets a few alarms for tomorrow, before locking it and turning back to face him with a small smile on her face.
“My flight leaves tomorrow.”
“Reschedule it.”
She laughs at the quick response. “I have this thing called a job.”
“Quit.”
“You just have all the answers.”
He smirks, “Of course, I do.” His face then softens as he smiles at her. “I wish I could convince you to stay longer. This has been nice.”
“More than nice.” She corrects. “I’m going to miss you, Charles.”
“Because of the orgasms?” he grins.
“There is that. But also just you.”
Because in between all of those rounds of sex, they had done a lot of talking. A lot more talking than she thinks you’d normally do with someone you’re spending a week with having sex who you’ll likely never see again. But maybe that was part of it. The high chance of never seeing each other again.
Week Nine
Her heart stops at the words, at the theory she had coming to life. “I’m what?”
He lets out a chuckle. “Pregnant, sweetheart.”
She narrows her eyes, teasing him. “You're my ex uncle John. No more sweethearting me.”
He makes a face, scoffing. “I was your uncle for three years, your favorite uncle at that.”
“When I was twelve!" She shakes her head, giving him a thankful smile before her brain refocuses on what he said. “What do you mean, I’m pregnant?”
“Your labs say you're pregnant. I had them run them twice to be sure.”
She blinks before dropping her head in her hands. “Fuck.”
He pats her shoulder. “Do you want me to call Matt?”
She appreciates the quietness of his voice, the gesture, but they both wince at the name, at the thought of what used to be his family, and what is technically her family, even if she hasn’t talked to any of them since she was twenty. “No.” She shakes her head. “I uh need to think, process.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t blink at her unsureness. “Let me get you some pamphlets to read, think about your options and if you have any questions you can call me or the office and I can answer them or get some friends too.”
“Thank you.” She breathes, trying her best to send him a smile.
“Of course. Do you want to schedule an ultrasound now or wait until you know what you’re going to do?”
“Wait. I don’t want to have to cancel it or have it influence my decision.”
“Alright. I’ll let Jessie know and they’ll come in to finish up your appointment and you’ll be good to go.”
Week Thirteen
She stares at her phone in disbelief… blocked. Fucking blocked. He blocked her number after asking repeatedly for it.
Her jaw twitches and she wants to scream. She didn’t even want to talk to him now after this discovery, but she couldn’t not tell him that she was pregnant with his baby. It wouldn’t be fair and she knows that he wants kids.
Charles had talked about it a little as they laid in bed, catching their breath, his fingers dancing on her arm as he talked about wanting three, hoping they would all get his love for racing, but hopefully wouldn't actually want to be drivers.
“Too much heartbreak,” He had remarked, smirking, but she had seen pain in his eyes.
Pain seemed to frequent his eyes more than it didn’t.
The thought of the pain in his eyes, so visible, so much of it she could have drowned in it, has her anger flattering for a second before she shakes her head.
She doesn’t have any other ways to get in contact with him. Not if he’s blocked her number. She’s more than aware that he has social media, but she had heard him groan about three different members of his team also having access to it.
Her teeth sink into her lip as she tries to think of what to do. She could go the legal route, let him know with a notice for child support, but she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s just wanting child support from him. She just wants him to know about his child. She also knows, considering who he is and how much money he has, that there would be demands for a paternity test, even pushing for one while she’s still pregnant. Her hand smooths over her abdomen at the idea. There was a risk to the baby with that. It’d have to wait until the baby was born, which really has her back to square one.
It’s only as she’s struggling to go to sleep that she remembers the name of one of the guys who works at Ferrari. Is part of the communications team. She only remembers because no one was supposed to bother Charles and while he had been trying to convince her that shower sex wasn’t a safety hazard, Vinny had texted him asking him to look at an email that was sent.
She had then made a joke about Vinny being old and not understanding the new trend of vacations which had prompted Charles to go to his instagram page to show her the most twenty-something year old Italian man she had ever seen.
Sitting up right in her bed, she forces herself to think about the instagram username that Vinny had. Her one hand reaching for her phone.
She starts to type vinnyf and before she has to think about what else follows, she sees it, three down and she quickly taps.
He’s only got ten thousand followers and she starts typing a message to him. She’ll come across as crazy, insane, the worst kind of fan, so she tries to come across as serious. She asks him to please tell Charles she needs to talk to him. Mentions where Charles was staying, something only a few people knew, even mentions that she knows Vinny had messaged him during the vacation even though Charles had asked for no one to contact him. She then adds another please and that’s important because she’s pregnant and it’s Charles’.
Week Sixteen
“And you’ve got a little boy.”
“A boy,” she breathes, staring at the screen, eyes watering.
“A boy,” he says again. “He looks good, measuring well. Active. And mom,” her smile wobbles at the sound of John of all people calling her that. God, she was a mom. “You are looking good as well. Except for,”
“My iron.”
“Yes. If I didn’t know it wasn’t possible, I’d say you were growing a little vampire ala Twilight.” His smile dims a bit when she doesn’t laugh and she has to look away when she sees the growing concern in his eyes. “So, I’m going to put you on an iron supplement and vitamin C. I know you’ve taken iron before, this will be every day however, instead of every other day.”
“Okay.” She nods, already dreading the stop to the pharmacy and then grocery store she’s going to have to do after this.
“Is everything okay?”
Her mouth opens, ready to say, of course, but as she sees how concerned he is, the truth comes out. “Not really. I uh, I can’t get a hold of the father. We exchanged numbers, but he blocked me and I tried reaching out through one of his friends, telling them I was pregnant and they told me he wants nothing to do with the baby.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” His hand takes hers in his as he sees the tears spill down her face.
“I shouldn’t even be crying. I was ready to be a single mom, I am ready to be one, but he told me he wanted kids. And he could’ve lied, he probably did, but it just feels like he doesn’t want them with me.”
John holds her hand as she cries, not rushing her, not saying anything, just letting her be, until she calms down.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says.
She tries to smile, but it’s weak at best. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
He nods. “Okay. But, just remember you aren’t alone. I’m here. I know I haven’t been a part of the family for years,”
She stops him, “No, but you are a part of my family. You divorced Matt for good reason and it’s not like I’m part of the family either. I had my pick of doctors to go for, I could have gone anywhere. I chose here and chose you.”
He has to blink tears out of his eyes. “I can’t cry on the job, sweetheart.”
A small laugh leaves her and he smiles.
“You aren’t alone. We’re family. Which means that if you need anything, call me or call Andrew.”
She hesitates at the mention of Andrew. “Andrew would be okay with me? I am your ex-husband's niece.”
“Family is complicated, he knows that and he loves you. He wanted to reach out but didn’t know if you’d feel comfortable hearing from him.”
She frowns, “Great. We’ve both been afraid of stepping on each other’s toes even though we both love each other.”
John laughs, “I told him that he could be your dad, the way you too are… both so similar.”
A dirty look gets thrown at him for that comment and he puts his hands up, but knows she isn’t offended by how she’s smiling slightly.
“Think he’d be okay with me calling him to get some dinner since you’ve got a shift at the hospital tonight?”
“He’d love that.” He tells her, squeezing her hand.
—
It’s easy for her to spot Andrew as she enters the restaurant, she gives a small smile to the hostess, murmuring she’s meeting someone with a small gesture to Andrew, and the hostess nods.
Her feet drag a bit as she walks over to Andrew. They weren’t swelling yet, but they had started to hurt if she was on her feet for too long without a break.
“Hey,” he greets, sliding out of the booth.
She means to say hi back, give him a small pat on the arm before sitting down, but she finds herself throwing her arms around him.
He doesn’t return her hug for a second, but before she can pull away and panic, he wraps his arms around her as well, his touch gentle and it has her realizing that, despite knowing Andrew for nearly ten years, they’ve never hugged.
She used to spend weekends at his and John’s house in college when she needed space from her roommate, had countless breakfasts with him, spent she doesn’t know how many hours sitting on the same couch as Andrew as she worked on papers, and they had never hugged.
“Hi,” she manages to say when they break apart and are sitting across from each other.
“You doing okay?” he asks, eyes looking over her.
“Yeah, I just missed you.” It hurts how true that is. She had never let herself get too close to Andrew. Always scared that he didn’t like her, was only putting up with her because he loves John, but she has missed him.
His whole face softens at her words. “I’ve missed you too, kid. How has work been? Boss still kicking around?”
“Work has been good, I’m actually working through more assignments than usual, my choice.” She hurries to say, to reassure. “And yeah, still kicking around. Less of an ass since I gave notice for maternity leave.”
“Good, good. And congratulations, you're going to be a great mom.”
She smiles, “Thank you.”
Dinner is spent catching up and regret sits a little heavy on her for not asking John earlier if Andrew was okay with her. Because she’s getting to know Andrew, he’s getting to know her himself, and it’s amazing.
She tries to pay, but before she can, he’s handing his card over and giving her a small glare.
“Don’t think about it,” he says when she starts to open her mouth.
“I was just going to say thank you.”
“Sure you were.”
It’s quiet between them as Andrew walks her to her car. Her mouth opens to say goodbye, but Andrew is talking before she can.
“Listen, I know John already said it, but if you need anything, call us, text us. I’m still not sleeping much, so don’t worry if it’s three in the morning or something.”
“If I need anything, I’ll call.”
She surprises herself a little with how true the words are. She’s always been stubbornly independent, but she can also acknowledge when she’s out of her depth and it’s no longer just about her. It’s about her and her baby now, her son.
He stares at her, trying to see if she’s telling the truth, before giving a short nod. “Alright.” And this time it’s him who pulls her into a hug.
“Text when you get home, okay? And I’ll text back with John’s schedule so we can do breakfast, get some other things planned.”
She has to blink back tears, “That sounds great. I’ll text as soon as I’m inside. Drive safe.”
“You too.”
Week Twenty-Two
“What are you doing on the floor?” Andrew’s voice makes her straighten up, neck killing her from how she’s been hunching over. “What is she doing on the floor?” Andrew’s glaring at John as he helps her or rather makes her get off the floor with his help.
“Coffee table is too far from the couch, the dining room chairs hurt my back if I sit in them too long, and the floor was easier. John gave me two cushions to sit on.”
“I tried to tell her that we could move the coffee table closer.”
Now she’s glaring at John. “And I said I’m not messing with Andrew’s house.”
“My name is on the mortgage too.”
She rolls her eyes, not noticing Andrew doing the same. “It’s Andrew’s. You’d still be living in an apartment with one bedroom if it weren’t for him.”
A pout forms on John’s face at the truthful words and a smile blooms across her face as she watches Andrew go over and bend to kiss it off John’s face before helping him up as well.
“Next time, let John move the coffee table or whatever closer. I can always move it back,” Andrew tells her.
She gives a small nod, starting to bend to pick up a pile of photos, but before she can, Andrew is crouching down and grabbing them. A pile gets handed to her, another to John and then he quickly collects the ones scattered around.
“What were you guys exactly doing?”
Glancing down at her pile, her nose wrinkles, realizing it’s the throwaway pile. “I found a box of old photos, wanted to go through them.”
A quiet but strangled sort of sound leaves Andrew’s throat and her eyes fly to him, feet moving forward, and she’s happy to see John already having a hand hovering over Andrew’s arm.
“Andrew?” His voice is quiet, concern wrapping around the name.
His eyes are glued to the photo on top of the stack of photos he has in his hands. She can’t see what exactly the photo is.
“This,” his voice is strangled. “I know her. You have a photo of her?”
She moves forward, taking care to not brush against Andrew, not wanting to make his panic worse. Her frown grows as she sees what photo he’s looking at, at what caused his panic. “That’s my mom.” Her name leaves her lips with bitterness. She hated that her mom still made her upset.
“When were you born?”
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes catching on John, who looks just as confused as she does before they move to Andrew’s face, who is looking at her more closely than he ever has before. He’s so clearly searching for something in her face. Her birthdate comes out quietly because she knows that he knows it. He’s never once in the years he’s been with John and known her not left her a happy birthday message.
“Fuck.” He breathes and the sight of tears in his eyes has her carefully reaching forward, hand gently resting on his arm.
“Andrew, what’s wrong?”
“Your mom, I recognize her, I knew her. She was around for a couple of months. I wouldn’t say we ever dated, but we had sex. A lot of sex. And I don’t know if she was on birth control, but condoms, they aren’t a hundred percent.” Her heart stops at his words and at his next ones, her hand gently resting on his arm, turns into a grip. “When she left, she would’ve been two months pregnant with you.”
Her feet shuffle backwards, trying to find the couch, needing to sit and Andrew easily guides her, helping her sit. She doesn’t even process the sound of John on his phone and the words, paternity test, fast, discreet, she’s just staring at Andrew, looking at him in a whole new light as he crouches down in front of her so they are eye to eye.
“I had no idea, kid. No fucking clue. And I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”
He’s crying. She’s never seen Andrew cry before.
It has anger welling inside of her. She hasn’t been properly angry at her mom in years. It hasn’t been worth the energy and thought that it takes to be angry at her. She had better things to use her energy on, to think about. But now, she can’t help but be angry. Because over the last few weeks she’s learned about how much Andrew wanted a kid, wanted something selfishly that was half him. But he couldn’t do it when he wanted to. When John and he had finally decided to have a kid, John’s sister happily agreed to be their surrogate, because Andrew was sterile, infertile. All due to complications from a hernia surgery he had when he was twenty-four. She would’ve been nearly five then.
She didn’t think her mom could screw her up more and she hates that somehow her mom can still manage to surprise her. Because, of course, she would’ve gotten pregnant by a guy, a good guy, who wanted a kid so badly, had been torn apart by not being able to have one later, and kept it from him. Kept her from him.
“I would have been there for you. I would have taken you from her.”
Her heart aches at his words and reaches for his hands, holding them tight. “I’m sorry too.”
He bends, forehead pressing against their joined hands as a silent sob leaves him.
“I’ve got someone who will be here in thirty minutes to do a paternity test, rush order on it, we’ll know by dinner,” John says, voice quiet as he watches them both with tears in his own eyes.
—
She’s holding her breath as soon as John answers the phone, not even letting it ring for a second before he had picked up.
“Okay.” John nods. “Yeah, thank you.” And then he’s hanging up and pulling his phone away from his ear.
“They emailed me the results, better than just taking their word for it.”
Andrew and her both give a small nod.
She doesn’t think she’s ever looked so intently at someone’s face before, but she can’t blink, she can’t breathe as she looks at John’s face as he looks at his email.
She can see when he reads the result, the utter sadness that takes over his whole face, and her eyes close, unable to continue looking as she chokes back a sob. She had let herself hope, let herself want. And maybe it was foolish. God it obviously was stupid to let herself hope because, of course, Andrew isn’t her dad.
“John.” The sound of Andrew’s voice makes her open her eyes, blinking rapidly so she won’t cry.
“It’s…” There’s a look of amazement on John’s face. “The DNA is a ninety-nine point nine percent match.” He looks up from his phone, looking at them both, a large smile on his face. “Andrew, congratulations, it’s a bouncing baby girl.”
She’s not even able to let out a sob before she’s being embraced by Andrew, her face pressing into the crook of his neck as he holds her tightly and she holds him back, her grip probably painfully tight on him, but he doesn’t even flinch.
Through her sobs she can hear his voice, but not make out the words, not until finally her sobs die out and she can hear him clearly, saying words just for the two of them.
“I’m gonna be there for you now. Like how I should’ve been. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
Week Twenty-Seven
Her eyes are narrowed at Andrew in a glare and he’s glaring right back at her.
“Okay,” John says, stepping in between them, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. “How about we all take a deep breath. Andrew did not mean to overstep any boundaries.” And she can just barely see over John’s shoulder the way Andrew’s face falls at his words, and that face makes her anger die.
“He wasn’t overstepping.”
“Alright,” John murmurs, squeezing her shoulders before letting go and she easily moves to sit down before either of them says something about her being on her feet for too long.
“I can take care of myself.” She starts with saying when both Andrew and John sit as well.
“I know,” Andrew agrees with a small nod, a grimace on his face.
“I’ve been taking care of myself. I know that I am pregnant, that I am also now farther along, but I am still okay. I’m medically okay and so is the baby. The only abnormal thing that has happened is my low iron and I have been taking supplements for it. There is no reason for me to move in for the rest of my pregnancy.”
The room is silent and both her and John look at Andrew, watch as he tries to figure out what to say before finally the truth comes rolling out.
“I’m trying to make up for lost time. I’m trying to take care of you. And I can see that I should’ve stopped pushing after you said no when we offered. I’m sorry.”
“That makes sense. I think we both are trying to make up for lost time.”
He nods in agreement to that. “I also worry about you being home alone. As much as we are here for you, it’s a twenty minute drive away and you're by yourself. And when the baby comes,” he exchanges a look with John. “We know the apartment search isn’t going great. And sharing a bedroom with a newborn is common, but we figured you moving in for the last trimester of your pregnancy and the first few months of having the baby would help with creating a nest egg, maybe even a small down payment on a place.”
“You guys wouldn’t be charging me rent?”
“Fuck no.” They both say at the same time.
She has to clear her throat so she doesn’t laugh. “It’s very sweet of you both and I appreciate the offer more than I could possibly express, but for right now my answer is no. I like having my own space and the last thing I would want is to disturb your guys' space.”
“You wouldn’t be.” John says. “And I really mean that. I’m the only one really with a routine schedule and even then, that changes, I get called in unexpectedly. And Andrew would happily handle any changes if I meant you and the baby were happy, safe, and comfortable.”
Andrew gives a solemn nod, before a small bashful smile breaks out across his face. “I already started thinking about changes to the living room for a play pen and some cube shelves for him.”
“Oh,” She has to pause. “That is, uh,” she pauses again, clearing her throat as she tries not to cry. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“Of course. You're my daughter. And it’s our first grandkid.”
She fans her face as a few tears start to fall. “Andrew, you suck.”
John laughs, “He’s been telling everyone about his daughter and our soon-to-be grandkid.”
“Our daughter.” She corrects.
They both look at her confused.
“Our daughter, Andrew, should be telling people about your guy's daughter. You’ve been the closest thing I had to a dad before Andrew for years, John. I’m your guy's daughter.”
“Oh,” John murmurs and there are tears in his eyes. “Well, now I’m not going to stop talking about our daughter and grandkid.”
“Like you already weren’t talking up a storm,” Andrew mutters, though a smile is on his face as he teases. “I’ve got messages from nurses to prove it.”
“Shut up,” John mutters, and she has to stifle a laugh when Andrew winks at her.
It’s after dinner they get back to the original topic of conversation they were having before Andrew had brought up her moving in.
“Still no luck with baby names?”
“Nothing. I’m not even really sure what I want.”
John nods, “That’s common. A lot of people don’t know until after they’ve had the baby. Some even go home with the baby and still don’t have anything.”
Her nose wrinkles at the idea. “I want to have a name for him. Something I can call him as soon as he’s put on my chest.”
“Well, we could start the easy way, calling out common names and you saying yay or nay,” John says, pulling out a notebook and pen.
“Alec.”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“No.”
“Bryan.”
“No. Are we going in alphabetical order?”
John rolls his eyes, “These were the first names that came to mind.”
Andrew starts rattling off a few, thankfully not in alphabetical order, but all no's.
“Charles.”
She immediately winces at the name and shakes her head. “I’m not naming the baby after its dad.”
"The dad's name is Charles?"
She nods, "Yeah, Charles."
Andrew and John share a look.
"Do you want to talk about him?"
A small scoff leaves her, "There's not much to talk about. We spent a week together. I've tried contacting him, gotten nothing back."
"You liked him."
She glares at Andrew and he just shrugs. "You did, do. And he obviously wasn't horrible if you keep trying to reach out, keep trying to make sure he knows about the baby."
She looks away, trying not to think about the scrapbook she's been putting together even though it's painful just for Charles. It's got all of her sonograms and once she started showing every few weeks, she also took a picture of her belly to add it. Along with little notes about cravings, appointments, how the baby moved, what their baby seemed to like.
"He was really nice," She finally says, and she can't look at them as she continues to speak. "It was supposed to be a one night stand. We were both on vacation, met at a club. It was just supposed to be a little fun and I stayed with him for a week. He was nice, charming, funny." She laughs because it wasn't like Charles had meant to be funny, he wasn't cracking jokes, but he was just naturally funny.
"We talked a lot, I talked to him about everything and he did the same, or maybe it just seemed like he did. Because he told me he wanted kids and well, who knows." She laughs, wiping at her eyes and finally looking back at them, both of them looking at her, looking at the devastation that is so clear on her face, heavy on her shoulders. "He was really nice." She repeats.
Week Thirty-Three
She wakes with a groan, head pounding, her back aching more than normal, the sun practically blinding her.
That makes her pause, trying to push past the fog in her brain because she keeps the curtains in her bedroom closed, so the sun doesn't blind her. She shouldn't be waking up with the sun in her eyes.
Blinking rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust, her breath catches when they finally do and she realizes she's sprawled out on the kitchen floor.
Her fingers scramble across the tile, trying to find grip as she tries to push herself up, but when her head begins to raise up, her vision swims and she gasps.
Her hand shakes as she moves to feel the back of her head, nearly sobbing at the pain the touch causes, but a sob of relief leaves her when she brings it to her face and there's no red to be seen.
"Okay, okay, okay." She whispers to herself. She needs to get up, she needs to get seen. She needs, her hand flies to her belly, another sob of relief leaving her when she presses and the baby immediately kicks the spot. "Okay, baby. We're okay."
She doesn't want to know how long it takes for her to sit up. Her vision still swimming, sweat dripping down her face, as she then struggles to get to her feet. Body swaying as she clutches at her countertop.
She has to slowly move to rest on her elbows, hands shaking as they reach for her phone, having to use both hands for it.
It takes her a second to remember her passcode and her fingers nearly slip off her screen as she tries to get to Andrew's number. Her fingers continue to fumble, nearly dialing an old coworker's number before they finally click on the correct contact.
It takes a few more seconds of her fingers fumbling to get the phone on speaker and right as she does, the call connects and his voice is ringing out, loud in her kitchen, in her head, that she flinches.
"Andrew, I need help. I need to go to the hospital."
It's quiet for a second and then his voice, firm, comes through. "I'm on my way. Don't hang up, keep talking to me."
She does, she isn't sure what she says, but it doesn't take long for him to be there, to get to her.
She barely remembers getting out to his truck, the drive to the hospital, her shock only breaking when they enter through the emergency room doors, Andrew's one arm a vice around her as he demands a doctor, and she watches as some of the doctors and nurses go to protest before catching a look at her and she's being sat in a wheelchair, orders being exchanged around her and Andrew keeps pace with the briskness of the hospital staff as they get her to a private room.
She wants to protest getting lifted onto the hospital bed, but her knees nearly buckle when she tries to stand and her baby means more to her than her pride.
"Can you tell us your name?"
She easily says it, watching the one nurse at the computer type it. She answers their next questions of her date of birth and today's date easily as well.
"How far along are you?"
"Thirty-three weeks." Her voice is quiet, hand clutching at her stomach.
The doctor, she tries to read the name tag, but her eyes refuse to focus on it. "Okay, we are going to get an ultrasound, but can you tell us what happened?"
"I think I fainted, I, I don't really know. I went to the kitchen to get some water to take my prenatal. It was just after nine, and next thing I know I was waking up on my kitchen floor."
"Alright, well, my name is Dr. Aollon, let's get you checked out. Does your head hurt?"
"The back of it, I think I hit it when I fell."
Dr. Aollon nods, and then is holding up a finger. She easily follows it, but when the penlight is brought out, she can tell her eyes don't react well.
"I've had some blurry vision and my eyes are having trouble focusing on words."
"I think you've got a mild concussion. I'm going to touch the back of your head now, okay?"
"Okay."
She can tell that they are being gentle, but she still lets out a whimper when fingers touch the back of her head.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay." She murmurs, trying not to cry, as they continue to feel. A sigh of relief leaves her when they finally stop touching.
"Mild concussion is looking more and more likely with how hard it seems your head hit the ground, blurred vision, and trouble with your eyes focusing. I want to get some blood drawn up, do some labs and give you an ultrasound now."
"Thank you." She murmurs as the ultrasound machine is brought in. "He's been kicking, but I don't," she can't continue and Andrew grasps her hand, holding it tight.
"The baby kicking is a good sign, a really good one," the doctor reassures.
Her panic and fear doesn't leave her at the words. Doesn't even leave at the sound of her baby's heartbeat finally filling the room. It only goes away when she's told after a painfully silent three minutes that the baby looks all good. And it hurts, but she sobs at the news.
"Your okay, your okay." She cries, touching her belly, feeling where he's kicking.
"Thank god." She hears Andrew mutter, and she squeezes his hand, beyond grateful he's with her, that he showed up.
"Andrew, thank you. Thank you so much."
Her eyes are filled with tears, they ache, but she can see the relief on his face as he shakes his head. "I told you, anytime and I'd come running. I'm just happy he's all good and you seem to have gotten lucky."
She nods, pressing her lips together as she tries not to cry more. "I'd like to stay with you and John, now. I'm really scared, Andrew. I don't," she can't say anything else as the thoughts of how much worse this could've been fill her head.
Andrew stands up, sitting on the very edge of the hospital bed and she presses her face into him as he wraps his arms around her. "Don't think about what could've happened. Don't stress yourself out more. As soon as John gets off shift, I'll go over to your place and pack you a bag. Once you feel a little better we can go back, get more of your stuff, alright?"
She gives a small nod, wincing at the movement. "Alright."
Week Forty-One
"Dr. Kane," She breathes a sigh of relief seeing her step into the room. "I thought you forgot about me." She teases, trying not to eye the clock for when her next contraction will hit her.
"I could never. How are you doing?"
"Good, really good." She sucks in a deep breath of air. "Labor is easy."
"Not gonna tell me the truth?
She gives her an apologetic smile, "Sorry. The contractions are horrible. Eight minutes apart now. I'm thirsty and sweaty."
Dr. Kane nods, looking at her for another second before looking at the tablet in her hands. "When you checked in, an hour ago, they were twenty minutes apart?"
She nods, "I thought it was braxton hicks at first, but they kept continuing and after an hour, John said it was time to come in."
"Well, John was right. Now, I want to check and see how far along you are. Water still hasn't broken?"
"Nope. But that's common right?"
"Yes, it's more than you'd think when a woman's water doesn't break, but that's okay, we can do it if it doesn't happen."
She nods, quietly thanking the nurse as she helps her put her foot in a stirup.
"Alright, I'm gonna check your cervix now, okay?"
"Okay."
She keeps her eyes on the ceiling, taking deep breaths, as Dr. Kane begins her examination.
"You are dilated six centimeters," Dr. Kane tells her.
"Four more to go."
Dr. Kane smiles at her, taking her gloves off. "Only four more to go. Can we get you anything?"
"My dads, Andrew and John. They should still be in the waiting room. They didn't want to come back, make me feel uncomfortable, but I want them."
Dr. Kane nods, "I'll go get them for you. And I'll be back to check on you in thirty minutes, alright?"
"Alright. Thank you."
"Of course."
—
When she had thought about this moment she thought her hands would be shaky, but as her baby is put on her chest, they are steady as she reaches for him, holding him against her.
"Hi, baby." She murmurs, tears spilling down her face as she looks at his wrinkled up face, his cries quieting as she holds him.
"He's beautiful."
She nods at John's words, unable to look away from him. "I'm supposed to let him go at some point?" She can't fathom the idea of ever putting him down.
Elle, her nurse, laughs. "It's hard, I felt the same with all four of my kids."
She doesn't want to let him go, but he's still covered in things and needs to be checked fully and she still has her placenta to deliver. So, reluctantly, she passes him over to the neonatal nurse and she opens her mouth to ask John to follow, but he's already doing it.
She watches where they take her baby, John following, but keeping a few steps back so he won't be in their way.
An eternity seems to pass before she finally gets her baby back in her arms, cheek resting above her heart and sleeping.
"You did real good, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"
She smiles at Andrew's words. "Tired, hungry, but happy. Really happy."
And she doesn't want to let him go, but she can't resist the slight chaos she has planned. So she forces her eyes off her son to look at Andrew.
"Want to hold your grandson?"
Andrew looks at her shocked, before he eagerly nods, reaching for him.
It pains her to let her baby leave her arms, but watching the way Andrew looks at him in awe is worth it.
"He's so small."
John smiles at his husband, wrapping an arm around him and peering down at the baby. "He kind of is. Only seven pounds and two ounces, twenty-two inches long though."
"He's perfect," Andrew says, voice thick.
"Want to know his name?" Her smile widens when they both nod. "His name is Jasper Andrew," she hesitates for a second but continues. "Leclerc."
They thankfully don't comment on his last name, can't. Too distracted by his middle name.
"Jasper Andrew?"
She nods. "Yeah, after one of his grandpa's. Which you two will have to fight over who is grandpa and who is pops or something. I'm leaving myself out of that fight."
The breath is nearly stolen from her lungs when Andrew passes John, Jasper, so careful, so gentle before wrapping her in a hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." He murmurs into her hair and she clutches back at him.
Month Zero
Blocked. Blocked. Blocked. A cry of frustration nearly leaves her as the word keeps popping up on every account she goes to of Charles.
She doesn't know why she's surprised. Vinny had told her that Charles wanted nothing to do with the baby, but she knows why she is.
She was still holding on to hope that maybe he would change his mind. That he would want to be a part of Jasper's life. That he hadn't lied about wanting kids. That he hadn't lied to her.
But everything is pointing to him lying to her, to him not wanting any part of Jasper's life. It hurts her, it hurts her more when she thinks of how she'll have to explain this to Jasper in the future, having to tell him repeatedly that it wasn't anything he did.
She wonders if his eyes will resemble Charles' when he's old enough to understand that Charles didn't want him, full of pain, always seeming to linger.
Month Six
"Okay, my love." She murmurs to Jasper, taking him out of his stroller as he begins to fuss. As soon as he settles in her arms, he quiets and she has a small amount of regret for bringing the stroller, knowing she'll probably spend the whole walk holding him.
"You're really gonna make momma carry you for the whole walk?"
He makes a small noise and she smiles at the response, adjusting him in one arm, as her other reaches for the stroller to begin to push it.
"Alright, Jasper. This is Monaco." She keeps her voice low, only reaching his ears as they begin to walk. "Your father is from here. And while he might not be a part of your life, I want you to know where he comes from. So this is the start of our new tradition. Every April, we fly out, stay for a few days, explore, and then go back home."
He gurgles at the word home and she smiles, pressing her lips to his head.
"Smart boy. And to think grandpa thought pops and me were crazy for reading to you and talking to you like a normal person."
Ten minutes into their walk, she really starts to regret bringing the stroller. She wasn't planning on stopping anywhere on their walk through Monaco, but the sight of a cafe, the smell of pastries, calls to her.
She moves to cross the street, but before she can, she hears her name called out.
Her brow furrows in confusion and she turns to see, shock taking over her face, "Charles."
Jack/Robby/Reader A/B/O? I love how you write them
Title: Heat Assistance - Jack Abbot/Reader/Michael Robinavitch
Words: 864
Blurb Request Prompt(s): A/B/O Dynamics
Note(s): Mentions of sex toys and female masturbation, reader is an omega, both Robby and Jack are alphas. Also thank you for reminding me how much I love writing A/B/O dynamics!
Masterlist | Support Me!
She winces when she hears Robby call her name, voice thick with concern. Turning around, her eyes linger on his crossed arms before she forces them up.
“Everything alright?”
She nods quickly. “Yeah, everything is fine.”
“What’s going on over here?”
Blood rushes to her face as Abbot wanders over, standing next to Robby, both of them looking at her.
“You aren’t working a double are you?”
“No.” She laughs. “I already did my hand off, I just need to go to the fifth floor.”
She watches as both of their eyebrows furrow, but understanding dawns on Robby’s face first and he’s ushering the three of them into an empty room.
“Heat assistance?”
Her eyes fall to the floor, more blood rushing to her face, as an alpha, a good-looking alpha, an alpha she struggles to not bare her neck to, asks about her heat. “Yes.”
And then Abbot hums before speaking and she wants to fall through the floor. Because it wasn’t enough for her to find one alpha attractive but two. “You doing okay?”
The concern in his voice has her eyes raising, offering them both a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just,” she pauses, wondering if she should really say anything to them, to what are her two co-workers, but they both give her an encouraging nod and there’s nothing embarrassing about it other than her body failing her. “My heats have become painful.”
They both wince at her words.
“I’m sorry.” Robby says and she smiles.
“It’s okay, but nothing is touching the pain anymore, not toys,” her eyes flickering to the floor as she utters that word and missing the want that flashes across both of their faces. “Or the prescription pheromones.”
“Shit, sweetheart.”
She thanks everything that her scent patch hasn’t worn off. She could only imagine how much the smell of her want would flood the room if she wasn’t wearing it all from Abbot calling her sweetheart.
“It’s alright, Dr. Abbot.”
“Jack.” He corrects, like he’s done before and this time she nods.
“It’s alright, Jack.”
He smiles when she says his name and her eyes flicker again to the floor.
“I talked to my doctor, she suggested getting some assistance for my heat instead of spending it alone. A system reboot, she called it.” And she can’t but laugh at the phrasing again. “I don’t love the idea of spending my heat with a stranger, but I also can’t handle the pain anymore.”
She isn’t sure what she expects for them to say to that, other than sorry again, or maybe she expects both of them to tell her that the hospital has a great heat assistance program, because it does, and she’s heard them both tell countless omegas that before.
She doesn’t expect the way they both share a look, something she can’t even begin to decipher before looking at her.
“We’d be willing to help you.”
Her mouth opens and closes, no sound escaping it as she processes their offer. “What?”
“What Jack is trying to say is that, if you would like, we’d happily assist with your heat.”
“Together?” Her eyes go back and forth between them. “I’ve never heard of two alphas sharing an omega in heat.”
“It’s fairly uncommon.” Robby agrees. “But, and to put all our cards on the table, we both like you and as I’m sure you’ve picked up on Jack and I are fond of each other. We wouldn’t be fighting over you or for you. Maybe some posturing, but nothing serious.”
Her eyes land on Jack, trying to read him, and she’s surprised to see how open and easy he is to read. They both are, she realizes as she looks at Robby.
Their faces are complete open books to her right now and she imagines that at this moment they’d happily answer any of her questions. But she can’t think of any questions to ask either of them other than if they are clean, are aware that her heat is a week away, and if they need to wait for her to be in heat.
Jack grins, seeming to read her want for them. “Think about it. Sleep on it. We can all do breakfast in the morning, you can ask us anything then. Full honest policy from the both of us.”
Robby nods in agreement.
“Me as well. Full honesty.”
Her words are nearly a whisper, but they earn her two smiles.
“I’ll give you a ride to breakfast.” Robby tells her when she starts to move out of the room, because she’s afraid if she doesn’t she’s going to ask them to touch her and she needs to get home, she needs to, she has to force herself to take a deep breath, she needs to take one of those stupid silicone knots that haven’t helped her with a heat and hope it helps dull this need for the both of them.
“Thank you, Robby. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Jack and Robby watch as she rushes out of the room, just able to catch the scent of mouth watering arousal.
Words: 1,792
Summary: She’s wanted one thing from him for months and after she hides something from him, Jack finally gives her what she wants.
Note(s)/Warning(s): NSFW, Smut, mentions of reader going to the hospital, Jack is angry.
I’m sorry this is so late! I just haven’t been writing for the last two weeks, but I’m very happy with how this turned out!
Masterlist | Support Me!
Jack doesn't go home from work angry. If something that happens on shift pisses him off enough to where he's still fuming after hand off, he goes to the gym, works it off there before going home to her.
It had bugged her at first, just a little, because she liked supporting him, seeing all of him, even what he considered to be ugly. But, she also understood that he was worried he'd say something awful, raise his voice, take something out on her that was in no way, shape, or form related to her. So, he goes to the gym after work if he's angry.
Which is why her eyes go wide, and she scrambles up from the couch, phone nearly falling on the floor, as she hears Jack practically slam the door shut and before he can raise his voice, she quickly moves to the kitchen. Nearly tripping over the rug, and she curses under her breath because somehow Jack never got tripped by it, but she did once a week.
"You were at the pitt?"
She winces, "Yes."
"And you told them not to call me?"
There's a bit of hurt in his eyes, but his anger has more than taken over.
"It was nothing really, I promise."
His eyes narrow at her, teeth grinding together. "What was it exactly?"
"What?"
He stops closer, "What was it exactly?" He says it slower this time.
She looks at him, confused, because surely Ellis would've told him why she was there. "I hit my head, there was a loud sound apparently, I didn't feel any pain, still don't, but Sue insisted I go and get checked out. She was worried about a concussion. But, I am fine. Ellis checked me over, I'm not even tender where I hit it."
Jack's eyes flicker over her face, clearly trying to see if she's lying, and whatever he sees makes him give a small nod. "Okay." His voice is quiet, and she relaxes, ready to welcome him home properly, ask him if he's sure about going grocery shopping with her tomorrow.
Before she can do any of those things, she's being pushed back into the kitchen counter, her protests dying when she looks at Jack, because he's angry still. His body coiled tight and her only relief is that despite his long shift, he's not favoring a leg.
Her glance down, to look at his leg, is the distraction he needs, and the air leaves her lungs as he lifts her up onto the counter. His name coming out in a gasp.
"Lift your hips." His voice is gruff, anger still wrapping around every word.
She stares at him. "What?"
"Lift your hips."
Her breath catches and slowly she moves until her arms are behind her and leans, comfortably resting her weight on them as she raises her hips.
Jack doesn't waste a second to pull off both her pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His hands are hot on her hips as he forces them back down, and she gasps at the still cool countertop touches her bare skin.
She can't get a word out, watching him with wide eyes as his hands leave her hips and go to his scrub pants, which has her eyes widen, somehow, even more because he's still in his scrubs, and fingers curl in the waistband. She catches a glimpse of his boxers waistband, his fingers curled around that too, and then he's shoving them down. His cock, hard but not yet leaking pre-cum, catching her eyes. Her thighs try to press together in response, just at the sight.
"Jack," he ignores her whisper of his name, pushing his pants and underwear further down. Then he's stepping closer, and she remembers now that the kitchen island is the perfect height for him to fuck her if she's sitting on top of it. She shudders at the memory of the first, and not last, time they had sex like this.
Her arm stretches out, hand finding the back of his neck, resting there, as her heart pounds in her chest and as she clenches around nothing. She feels like she's on fire suddenly, wants to take her top off, wants to somehow take her skin off to see if that would help, though she doubts it. As she opens her mouth to ask, Jack interrupts her.
"You still want me to fuck you with no prep?"
"Yes." The single word answer, somehow slurring together. "Fuck, please, Jack." She's begging, she knows it, but it's been something she's wanted, dreamed about, fantasized about, for years.
Jack had been the only person she felt finally comfortable enough to bring it up with. And despite his rejection of the idea, his only rejection so far of something she's wanted to do involving their sex life, she hadn't felt horrible about it after, a bit disappointed, but that was to be expected. She never thought to ask again. Not when Jack was so clear on why he didn't want to do it, his worry about her tearing after seeing it happen in the pitt and not wanting that to happen to her, not wanting to cause it, had made her happy to drop the subject.
But now to hear him ask, to feel him pressed against her, and selfishly, for him to be angry and want to do it, has her feeling like she'll be leaving a puddle on the counter.
His hands are back on her hips, moving her until her ass is just about hanging off the counter and then one of them leaves, and she watches as it wraps itself around the base of his cock, slapping it once, twice, then three times, a gasped out moan leaving her with each one. He then rubs his cock against her, parting her inner lips, collecting her wetness.
"Fucking dripping." He murmurs, and she sobs as he goes back to slap his cock against her clit.
Her mouth opens, ready to beg, and that's, of course, when he chooses to press in.
A whine leaves her, head thrown back as her hand resting on the back of his neck, clutches at him, at his scrub, while her other scrambles across the countertop, finding the edge and holding on tight. Because he doesn't just start to press inside her, he sinks all the way inside. Splitting her open, and it feels even better than she imagined.
She wants to remember every second of it, doesn't want to, can't forget a single thing about it. Because what if it doesn't happen again? What if he denies her a repeat performance?
But pleasure blinds her, rips her away, when he begins to thrust and his one hand on her hip moves, so his thumb can easily stretch to rub her clit. And god, when did his other hand start grasping her hip? It had to have been when he fully sunk into her but she can't remember.
It's everything she's ever wanted and she can barely make out the noises she's making, the words, the 'thank you's', that are leaving her. She can't hear Jack, but she can see groans and moans leaving his mouth, the way pleasure has overtaken anger.
Her orgasm feels like it comes out of nowhere. Head thrown back as she whines, her nails digging into Jack, the countertop digging into her other hand. It clears her head, thankfully, allows her to enjoy the way Jack is still roughly fucking her, the small grunts that leave him, the sweat on his face. How he groans, eyes fluttering shut when she clenches around him.
When he spills into her a few thrusts later, both her hands move to his face, grabbing it and pressing their lips together. Swallowing the silent moan, he gives as his grip on her hips tighten, and she shivers in pleasure, hoping he'll leave bruises.
"Don't do that again." He murmurs against her lips, and she nods, chasing them when he starts to pull away, and with a laugh, he returns, kissing her again.
"I won't, promise." She says when she finally lets him go.
He smiles at her and her heart, which she hadn't even realized had felt heavy, lightens.
"Good." He presses a kiss to her lips, and she watches when he pulls back, dick slipping out of her, both of them letting out hisses, the way he goes into doctor mode or rather nearly over caring boyfriend mode.
"Did it hurt?"
She shakes her head, leaning back on her hands. "No."
"You were tighter than normal, didn't feel like I was dragging inside you?"
"No." Her answer comes out soft, and she turns her face into her shoulder to hide her amused expression when he bends to look at her.
"Hurt now?"
"No."
He looks up at her with disbelief, and she has to look away before she begs him to eat her out, to make her orgasm again, not when she knows he needs to check her over for his own piece of mind.
His hands are light, gentle, as they touch her thighs, spreading her a bit wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders. "Can I check?"
"Yes, Jack. You can check."
Her words earn a kiss to her knee before his hands move further up her thighs. She watches as he carefully spreads her outer lips open. Watches the way his eyes darken as he most likely sees the way his cum is leaving her, but he doesn't let that distract him. The fingers on his other hand move, carefully touching her, his eyes flickering between her face and his fingers and when he doesn't see her wince or her face scrunch up in pain after a minute, he stands up straight.
"All good."
She smiles, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer so she can tuck her head into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for checking me over." Her words could be teasing, but she lets them only be earnest.
"Thank you for letting me check."
And now she can't help but tease. "Anytime you want to check you are more than welcome to." She says, pulling back.
Jack laughs, and she can see him fully relaxing, his body loose in the way it only is at home. "You just want me to feel you up more."
She gives a fake moan, "Of course, I do. Can't help but want you to teach me all the time."
He gives a small hum, patting her hip, and she easily follows the silent direction, getting off the counter with his help. "Shower for us both and maybe after I'll touch you some more in bed."
