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First Night Back
Fortunately for you and Jack, Robby was able to get you a full week off before coming back to work after the wedding. The week was filled with you two sitting on the couch next to each other creating a registry for not only the baby but, for things to fill your home with eventually.
“You ready to go back tonight?”
“I wish I could stay home with you all the time but, yeah, I’m ready.”
The buzz of the ER returned like muscle memory.
You and Jack stood side by side in the locker room. His hair was still damp from the quick shower he'd taken before you left the house. You could smell his shampoo in it.
“Ready for the honeymoon shift?” Jack said, his voice dry but warm.
You snorted. “Nothing says romance like traumas and code blues.”
He leaned over and kissed your temple. “At least you’re here to make it tolerable.”
You walked out together, and the noise hit instantly—monitors beeping, a patient yelling from triage, an EMT calling out vitals mid-roll-in. It should’ve felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt weirdly familiar.
“Well, well, well look who’s back.” Robby said from across the ER.
Dana held her arms out. “We’ve got a full board just for you two. Pedestrian versus car in Trauma 1. Sepsis in 3. Psych eval holding in 5 and refusing meds. And,” she added with a smirk, “some kid in curtain 8 swallowed a Lego.”
“So glad to be back here,” you muttered, walking away to find your first case back.
You and Jack split off instinctively, no need to even speak. You caught him glancing at you as he passed. A flicker of we’re okay. We’re doing this.
The night was filled with case after case, barely any time to talk to each other. Mostly just him asking if you were okay in passing. But you always made time to catch each other eyes from across the ER.
There was a lull around 2am when Jack came to find you. He looked over at you, and his expression softened. “You sure you’re okay?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d asked tonight. Or this week.
You sighed. “I’m pregnant, not broken. I’m fine.”
“Just making sure.”
You leaned your hip against the desk, pretending you didn’t notice the subtle way Jack’s eyes scanned you from head to toe—evaluating.
“Jack.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender but said, “I’m allowed to care.”
You softened. He wasn’t wrong. It was part love, part habit. The way you’d both learned to read each other in triage, in chaos, in the stillness between codes. Except now the stakes were higher.
6:50 a.m. — Change of Shift
You were charting the last of your overnight notes when you heard them before you saw them.
Dana, breezing through the doors with a coffee in one hand and her ID badge already clipped on crooked. Robby beside her, muttering something. And Langdon, as always, trailing behind them.
“Look at you,” Dana said the moment she spotted you, dragging her chair backward across the floor to sit right beside you. “Pregnant and still functioning. Honestly, it’s inspiring. Or maybe terrifying.”
You didn’t look up. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had a nap and a bagel.”
“Fair,” Robby said, dropping his bag on the counter. “But before we begin, serious question: Are you going to have your baby in this hospital?”
“Well, our OB is upstairs so don’t think we have too much on a choice. But no, you guys are not allowed in the room. You can all wait in the waiting room.”
Groans came from all of them before Dana and Robby walked away. Landon staying behind.
Langdon leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing at your charting speed. “You’ve been up all night?”
“Sure have,” you said, popping the final signature on your trauma note.
“You should be home. Resting.”
Jack, walking past, paused just long enough to throw in, “She also threw a pen across the unit when her monitor froze, so…thriving.”
You shot him a glare, but your lips twitched. “It didn’t hit anyone.”
Langdon grunted. “I’ve seen less motivated attendings take two weeks off for a cold. And you’re still here?”
You shrugged. “Only sixteen weeks, not sixty. I can still do my job.”
“You look like something’s bothering you kid. You fuck up on your first night back already?”
“I’m offended that you would even think that but, no. Its about me and Jack.”
“It’s about your sex life isn’t it?”
“That obvious?”
“Somehow these conversations always turn into a sex talk regardless of how hard I try to say away from it and anyway you guys are married now and you’re carrying his child so even if I don’t want to think about it, obviously you guys are having sex.” Langdon blinked once. “So go on.”
You exhaled, feeling immediately ridiculous but too far in to stop. “It’s just- we’ve been weird lately. Hesitant. Ever since I started showing. I mean of course we had sex on our wedding night and one other time last week but, it felt off in a way.”
Langdon nodded, letting you keep going.
“He’s being careful. Like, overly careful. Gentle in a way that makes me feel like I might shatter. And I know it’s coming from a good place. I just- I miss feeling like myself. Like us. There’s this invisible line we keep dancing around, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s scared of hurting me. Or the baby. Or both.”
Langdon leaned back in his chair. “Definitely both.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve seen it before, felt it before actually,” Langdon said. “New father, already in love with a kid he hasn’t met yet, suddenly sees his wife as precious cargo instead of a woman with her own needs and desires.”
“So what, I’m just a vessel now for this baby?”
“No,” he said, firmly. “You’re still you. But he’s navigating something new. He’s terrified. And you’ve always been the strong one, so his instinct is to protect what he doesn’t understand.”
You were quiet for a moment. “And how do I deal with that?”
“Talk to him,” Langdon said simply. “Tell him you’re not made of glass. That being close, being touched, being wanted—it still matters. Pregnancy doesn’t erase who you are in the relationship. It just shifts the balance. He needs permission to stop treating you like you’re breakable.”
You nodded slowly. “And if he still hesitates?”
Langdon gave you a look. “Then you remind him who the hell you are.”
You laughed, tension breaking just a bit. “You’re not the worst at this, you know.”
Langdon reached for his coffee. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”
“Mel is really lucky to have you.”
He smiled gently. “Not as lucky as I am to have her.”
You stood. “Thank you.”
He looked up. “For what it’s worth, you two are solid. You’ll figure it out.”
You nodded again, already composing the conversation in your head. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about closeness. About not letting this new chapter turn into distance.
You grabbed your bag and stood slowly, a hand reflexively brushing your belly.
Jack appeared behind you, looping his fingers through yours. “Ready for our appointment?” he murmured.
You nodded. “Oh my god. I forgot about that.”
“That’s what you have me for.” He kissed your cheek.
As you walked out together, the ER faded behind you. There was no need to sneak out the back door to go upstairs to your OB. Basically the whole hospital knew you and Jack were expecting. News spread like wildfire once you told Dana, Mel, Robby and Langdon that they were allowed to tell whoever they wanted.
———————————————————————
16 Weeks - OB Appointment
The waiting room was quiet, bathed in that too-soft, too-warm light that always made you feel like you might accidentally fall asleep sitting up.
You were still in your scrubs, badge clipped to your collar, shoes a little scuffed from twelve hours of trauma and chaos.
Jack sat beside you, one leg bouncing restlessly.
He nudged your knee. “You good?”
You nodded. “Just tired.”
“Want me to be quiet?”
You glanced at him. “You’re never quiet.”
Jack smirked but didn’t argue.
The nurse called your name, and you both stood. Jack’s hand instinctively found your back as you followed her down the hall. She didn’t comment on the way your steps slowed, or the way your eyes flicked toward the ultrasound machine.
“Hop up here,” she said gently. “The doctor will be in soon. We’ll take a listen first.”
You lay back, pulling up your scrub top just enough to expose the curve of your belly. The nurse squirted cold gel onto your skin and pressed the doppler into place.
It took a moment—one long, aching second—before you heard it, the whoosh-thump-whoosh-thump of a tiny, relentless heart.
Jack let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His hand found yours without needing to look.
“Strong,” the nurse said, smiling. “Mid-150s. Baby’s happy to be in there.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden sting in your eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the way Jack was staring at the monitor like it held every answer to every question you hadn’t asked.
Then the doctor came in. “Vitals are great, weight is on track, and baby is measuring right on schedule. Any new symptoms?”
You hesitated. “Some weird pulling when I twist or stretch. Sleeping’s harder.”
“That’s normal—your uterus is growing, everything's are adjusting. Stay hydrated, rest when you can, and if it gets sharp or constant, page me.”
You cleared your throat. “Can I ask something?”
Jack looked at you sharply.
The doctor nodded. “Of course.”
You didn’t look at Jack. “Is it safe, you know to- to keep being intimate?”
He almost choked letting out a cough.
“Absolutely. Unless your having complications—which you’re not—sex is totally safe. The baby’s protected by the uterus and amniotic fluid. It’s normal for things to feel different, emotionally or physically, but there’s no medical reason to stop unless either of you wants to.”
He stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning. Jack’s hand tightened around yours again.
“Thank you,” you said quietly.
The doctor smiled at you both. “Just listen to each other. This is new territory, but you’re a team. You’ll figure it out.”
When he stepped out, the room was quiet again, save for the faint echo of that tiny heartbeat still ringing in your ears.
He turned his head toward you. “Didn’t see that coming”
You shrugged, sheepish. “I wanted to hear it from someone that’s an expert in this field.”
He laughed. “I needed to hear it too.”
Later That Night — At Home
The house was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a lamp in the living room and the blue flicker of the TV.
You came out of the bathroom in one of Jack’s old t-shirts and boxers, towel-drying your hair. He was on the couch, legs stretched out, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with the look of a man who hadn’t stopped thinking since that OB appointment.
You sat beside him, letting your weight lean into his. He immediately curled an arm around your shoulder.
Neither of you spoke for a while. You just breathed, syncing up with him again.
Eventually, you murmured, “You were really quiet after I asked the doctor that question.”
Jack nodded. “Was just taking it all in I guess.”
You tilted your head toward him. “You’ve been scared around me. I guess I just thought our first week of together after the wedding would be us having sex everywhere and anywhere.”
“Yeah.” His voice was raw honesty. “You’ve been pushing through like nothing’s changed. But everything has. And I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”
You touched his chest, over his heart. “Don’t be fragile with me here.”
Jack looked at you then, fully, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “And I didn’t know how to get back without hurting you.”
You took his hand and brought it to your belly. “We’re right here. Still me. Still us.”
He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, like he’d been waiting all day to just be this close.
“We can go at whatever pace you want.”
“Jack, I’m growing a child, there’s are so many hormones flowing through my veins and these hormones are telling me that you need to have sex with me as much as you possibly can.”
“Tell me if something’s too much,” he said softly. “If anything feels wrong. I just- I want you to feel good. Wanted. Safe.”
You smiled. “I already do.”
The kiss started soft but, deepened quickly. Not rushed. Just full of need that had gone unsaid for too long.
His hands found your hips like he remembered them. You pulled him closer, needing that weight, that warmth, that certainty that came only from this—from him.
You climbed on top of him without hesitation. Your legs wrapped around him, his thumbs rubbed small, knowing circles just above your waistband. His tongue finding your mouth, swirling around yours. You lifted yourself around him, resting your bodyweight onto his lap.
He let out a soft groan. You adjusted yourself and felt his excitement growing underneath you.
His hands now inside your shirt around your waist. You reached down to the hem of his sweatpants. He adjusted himself off the couch slightly, just barely giving you enough space to slide your hand into his boxers.
“Ah fuck.”
You wrapped your hand around his already solid cock, your thumb rubbing past his tip, already slick with precum.
“Excited already…daddy?” You whispered, lips curling into a smirk.
He let out a breathy laugh, but there was a softness in it—like this moment meant something more than just release. “Why don’t you keep going and I’ll let you know.”
His hands left your hips and went above his head as you put your hand onto his chest. You other hand began to pump up and down on him. Firm enough to make him squirm underneath you.
He was breathing hard and fast. His eyes closed with his head up to the ceiling. You could feel the veins on his cock pulsating in the grasp of you hand.
His hands left your hips and rested above his head, giving you control. You placed your free hand on his chest, steadying yourself as your grip on him tightened. You began to stroke—slow, firm, deliberate.
He was breathing harder now. His jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, every pulse syncing with his shaky breaths.
You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear. “Cum for me, Daddy.”
“Fu—fuck, babygirl.” His body tensed beneath you, arching as his orgasm hit. You felt him spill over your hand—hot, sticky, desperate.
You stroked him through it, coaxing every last drop out of him. And when you were done, your hand slid out and came to your mouth, licking him off your fingers one by one, eyes locked on his.
“That’s my good girl,” he breathed, brushing your hair back, his hands settling around your neck. “Clean up the mess you made.”
“Love how you taste in my mouth.” You grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch.
He put his hand on your thigh, stopping you from going any further. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Thought you needed a second before we do anything else.”
He nodded his head upwards. “Fuck that, get on top of me right now babygirl.”
He lifted up his hips up, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles before sitting back down on the couch.
You stood up off the couch, putting yourself directly in front of him. “Take them off.”
You lowered his boxers on you, red lace panties underneath.
“Those too.” His eyes were dark, voice deep.
Panties hit the floor with you stepping out of them. His shirt the only piece of clothing still on your body, barely covering your lower half.
“Come up here.” He tapped his thighs with both hands.
You straddled him again, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his legs. His hands gripped your waist under the shirt, tugging you closer. You framed his face with your hands and kissed him—hungry, messy, needing more.
He was hard again by the time your hips shifted just enough.
He grabbed himself with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance. He slid inside you in one long, perfect motion.
Your breath caught.
He filled you. Completely.
He pulled your body closer, lips crashing together.
You rested for a moment, letting yourself adjust to his size inside of you. His hands moved to your lower back, holding you there, grounding both of you in the moment.
“God, baby,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You feel so fucking good.”
You breathed out shakily, forehead resting against his. “I needed this.”
“I know.” His thumbs followed the curve of your hips. “Me too.”
You rolled your hips—slow at first, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his eyes fluttered closed. The drag of him inside you was almost too much, but somehow not enough.
Your bodies moved together, falling into rhythm like muscle memory.
“Look at me,” he said, voice rough and quiet.
And you listened.
He cupped your face with one hand, the other gripping your hip to guide your pace. There was nothing rushed about him.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Carrying our baby. Still wanting me to fuck you.”
Your heart swelled, throat tightening. You bit your bottom lip as you rocked against him harder, chasing that edge—but not just for the release.
His hands slipped up your back, under your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His mouth found your chest, trailing kisses across your breasts, slow and open-mouthed, worshipful. You threaded your fingers through his silver curls, gasping when he sucked gently at your nipple.
“Jack—” His name broke in your throat.
“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing you again. “Let it go.”
You ground down harder, your body tightening, the heat building deep and fast now. He matched you thrust for thrust, his hips lifting up off the couch.
“Cum for me,” he growled into your neck. “Let me feel you fall apart while I’m inside of you.”
Your climax hit fast and hard—hips bucking, breath caught, muscles clenching around him. You cried out his name as waves rolled through you, your nails digging into his shoulders.
He wasn’t far behind. His grip on you tightened, and with a low, groan, he spilled into you, pulling you down to him, chest to chest, heart to heart.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just held each other. Just breathed.
You rested your head against his, bodies slick and tangled and trembling.
“Fuck I missed this,” you whispered. “I missed us.”
Jack kissed your forehead, lips lingering. “We’re still us. Just more now.” He looked down at your stomach.
You smiled into his skin. “Yeah. More.”
His hands settled over your belly, still resting inside you.
“I love you,” he said softly.
“I love you, too.” You kissed him again—slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say out loud.
———————————————————————
18 Weeks
“So, been meaning to ask you, you guys doing any better now?”
“Oh, Lang, trust me you don’t wanna know how much better we’re doing.”
“Yeah, I really, really could’ve gone my whole life without seeing the look of your face right now.”
“Whatever, guess your advice worked.”
He lifted his coffee cup up in a salute. “My advice always works. Anyway aren’t you guys supposed to go look at a house later?”
Langdon perked up. “House hunting again? I thought you guys were getting burned out.”
“We are. We’ve looked at, like, fifteen places and nothing feels right. So I’m not getting my hopes up.”
He shrugged, easy and steady. “You’ll find it. That ‘oh, this is ours’ feeling. It shows up when you least expect it.”
You gave a half-smile. “You get surprisingly sentimental when you’re over caffeinated.”
He grinned. “Kid, I get sentimental when I care. And you two? You’re the real deal. Don’t settle for a house that doesn’t feel like it knows your names already.”
After Shift
The sun was at its highest point when you pulled up in front of the house.
Jack was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets, rocking on his heels. He gave a small wave when he saw you.
“This the one?” you asked as you stepped out, eyeing the house.
“Apparently,” he said, looking up at the place like it was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. “Our agent said it just came back on the market this week.“
The exterior was older—white paint a little faded, porch railing crooked. But the windows were big, the trees in the yard were bare, leaves on the ground, and there was a creak in the front step that made you smile for no reason.
The agent greeted you at the door and waved you in with a soft “Take your time. Take it all in.”
You stepped inside—and something shifted.
It wasn’t flashy. The floors were original hardwood, scuffed in all the places that said someone lived here for a long time.The kitchen was dated, but the sunlight poured in like the house knew how to catch it.
Jack walked a few paces ahead of you, quiet. Not cautious—just thoughtful.
You followed him through the living room, past a fireplace that would need work, and into a small room tucked in the back.
You looked around—window facing the yard, soft echo from your footsteps on the floor. Small. Safe.
He didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the window and looked out into the overgrown backyard.
“I can see us here,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
You stood next to him, shoulder against his. “Even with the popcorn ceilings?”
He smiled. “Especially with the popcorn ceilings. Definitely getting rid of those though.”
Jack followed close behind as you climbed the creaky stairs, your hand grazing the banister that could definitely use refinishing.
At the top, the hallway narrowed. Three doors, slightly ajar.
You pushed open the first one. Small. Bright. The window faced east—you could already imagine morning light filling the crib, soft blankets folded over the chair you’d place in the corner.
Jack stepped beside you. “Definitely the nursery,” he said softly.
You moved to the second room. Bigger. The shape of a bed against the wall, dresser under the window, maybe a little chaos in the corners—Jack’s shoes, your half-read books.
“Our room,” you said.
He nodded, and then nudged the third door open with his foot. The last room.
Neither of you spoke as you stepped in. It was almost identical to the nursery—same creaky floorboard near the closet, same slanted ceiling that gave the space a little character. But this time, when you looked at it, you saw something different.
A twin bed. Toys on the floor. A sleepy toddler dragging a blanket behind them on a Sunday morning.
Jack moved behind you, his hands slipping onto your belly from behind, chin resting gently on your shoulder.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked quietly.
“I might be.”
“A second one?”
You turned your head toward him, half-smiling. “Too soon?”
Jack grinned. “Little bit. But not really.”
The baby kicked again—like he was chiming in.
You laughed. “You hear that? Your brother’s already opinionated.”
Jack kissed your shoulder, his voice warm against your skin. “Guess we’ll keep the extra room ready. Just in case.”
You both stood there a moment longer, wrapped in silence and the distant sounds of the old house settling around you.
———————————————————————
20 Weeks
Your next OB appointment. You didn’t remember this one either. Not that you needed to. Jack kept track of everything—dates, vitamins, test results. He was your living, breathing calendar.
This appointment you wanted go over your birth plan.
“Of course. Let’s talk about what’s important to you. Any specific preferences? Vaginal delivery? Epidural? Who you want in the room?”
You looked at Jack first. He gave you the tiniest nod, that quiet go-ahead he always gave when the decision was yours, and he’d back you no matter what.
“I’d like to try for a vaginal delivery,” you said. “And I want an epidural, if I don’t need to feel all the pain, I don’t want to.”
The doctor made a note of it. “Totally fair. Birth doesn’t always go according to plan, but we’ll make sure you feel supported every step of the way.”
“And I’ll be there,” Jack added, like it wasn’t even a question. His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he said it. You reached for his hand without thinking, and he took yours immediately.
The OB smiled again. “Husband in the room. Got it. Anyone else?”
“No, just him. No matter how much anybody else wants to come in, I need them to stay in the waiting room, unless they need to drag jack out of the room for freaking out too much.”
“Which is a very real possibility.”
“Got it. Any thoughts on interventions? Vacuum, forceps, C-section if needed?”
You hesitated. That part scared you more than you liked to admit. But Jack squeezed your hand before you could answer.
“I’d like to avoid a C-section unless absolutely necessary,” you said. “Same with everything else, if possible of course. But do whatever you have to.”
“Completely reasonable. We’ll aim for low intervention, high support. I’ll note that flexibility is key. How long are you planning on staying at work?”
“As long as I can.”
You didn’t need to look at Jack to know that he was shaking his head.
“All up to you. If you want a note that you need to stop working let me know. It’s yours whenever you need.”
You exhaled slowly. It felt like you were drawing the map for a trip you couldn’t see yet but, at least now, the path had a shape.
The rest of the night was spent relaxing before your next shift. Going over your plan with Jack again. And getting some much needed sleep before work.
That night, between cases and chaos, you caught him just as he was sitting down to chart.
“Hey, um—can I talk to you really quick?”
His head snapped toward you, brows pulling in. “Yeah. What happened?” His hand went straight to your belly.
You placed your hand gently over his. “The baby’s fine. Perfect, actually. I just...need to show you something.”
You held out your hand, fingers beckoning. Jack narrowed his eyes, voice softening. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
You smirked. “Don’t worry about it.”
You tugged him into the empty on call room, backing up until your spine met the wall.
His eyes darted around the space. “What are we doing in here?”
“Everything,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his scrubs and pulling him in close. “I need you right now, Jack.”
He hesitated only a beat, eyes going toward the door. Then he sighed, low and hungry.
“Well, if we’re doing this here...” His hand slipped away from your waist. “At least let me lock the god damn door first.”
The soft click of the lock was the only warning before you reached for your waistband, untying your scrub pants. Your top hiked up slightly, revealing the curve of your belly.
Jack’s eyes darkened as his hand found your stomach.
“God, you look so fucking good,” he murmured, voice rough. “Carrying my baby. Still this desperate for me to be inside of you.”
His hand moved lower, cupping you over your panties. “Fuck. You’re soaked already.”
“All for you,” you whispered.
His thumb pressed through the fabric, slow and deliberate.
“Ja-Jack,” you gasped, shifting your hips into his hand. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
He slid your panties aside, two fingers running along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that sent electricity racing through your core. He dipped just enough to coat his fingers in you, but not enough to satisfy.
Then, finally, he pushed inside.
You bit down on your lip, head falling back against the wall.
His other hand came up fast, covering your mouth.
“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear. “Quiet, babygirl. Don’t want anyone knowing how fucking filthy you get for me.”
Your hands searched behind you, gripping for anything to brace yourself. The angle. The pressure. The thickness of his fingers curling just right.
Moans broke from your throat, muffled against his palm.
He moved faster, deeper. Fingers fucking you with practiced precision while his thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit.
Your body started to quake.
“Look at you,” he growled. “Falling apart on my fingers. My perfect girl. My perfect mommy.”
Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you—white-hot, unexpected, unstoppable.
You shook against him, clinging to his arm as your legs threatened to give out.
Jack held you upright, never letting go, fingers slowly easing out as he kissed your temple.
Still breathless, you whispered against his shoulder, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not a chance. You’re carrying my whole world in there.”
Jack pulled his fingers from you slowly, like he hated to let go.
You were still trembling, thighs pressed together, leaning against him for balance as he gently fixed your panties back into place.
“Fuck,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple. “You okay?”
You nodded, eyes glassy, breath still uneven. “Yeah, yeah Just don’t think I can walk back out there yet.”
He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’re gonna have to. I’m not carrying you back to the nurse’s station with your legs like jelly and my cum on your thighs.”
You smacked his chest, trying not to laugh.
A sound. The unmistakable knock on the door.
Both of you froze.
Then came a voice—muffled but unmistakable.
“Hey, Abbott you in there? We got a GSW coming in 5!”
Dana.
Jack’s eyes went wide. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the nervous laugh bubbling up.
He mouthed fuck and motioned silently for you to stay put while he moved toward the door.
“Yeah, one second” he called, voice a little too casual.
In one smooth motion, he straightened his scrubs, cleared his throat, unlocked the door—and stepped out.
“Sorry,” he said to Dana, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s go?”
Dana blinked at him, skeptical. “You’re sweating. You okay?”
Jack smiled. “Yeah just- just wanted to grab a quick nap. You know how these rooms get, pretty stuffy in there.”
You could hear the forced calm in his voice, and it made your cheeks burn.
Dana glanced past him, trying to peer into the room. “You in there alone?”
Jack blocked the door slightly with his body. “Yup. Just me.”
A beat passed. Then she raised an eyebrow.
“You seen your wife?” Dana asked. “She just kinda disappeared. Gonna need her for this one too.”
“Bathroom, I think,” he said smoothly. “You know, gotta pee all the time when you’re pregnant.”
Dana made a face. “Ugh. Say no more.”
Jack waited until she turned down the hallway before he exhaled and slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind him again—quietly this time.
You were still against the wall, lips parted in disbelief. “Did we seriously just almost get caught by Dana?”
He grinned. “We absolutely got caught by Dana.”
You stared at him, then burst out laughing—quiet and breathless and wild.
“I can’t believe you just lied to her face like that.”
Jack leaned in, hands braced on either side of your head. “I’d do a hell of a lot more than lie to protect this.” His voice dropped low.
Your laughter faded into something softer. More vulnerable. You reached up and brushed a thumb along his jaw.
“Next time,” you whispered, “we pick a room that doesn’t echo.”
He kissed you, slow and lingering.
“I’m already looking forward to next time.”
“Oh, you’ll get a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”
———————————————————————
22 Weeks
Just four weeks after looking at the house, you two were moving in. Everyone had been helping. Everyone.
People constantly at the apartment helping you pack things into boxes. Robby and Langdon going to the store with Jack to pick up all the furniture you wanting for the house. Dana, Collins, and Mel helping you find the perfect decor.
And now here you stood in the middle of your new living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes and the faint smell of old wood and fresh paint.
Jack was upstairs, wrestling a dresser up the narrow hallway, swearing under his breath in the gentlest way possible. You could hear the dull thud of a drawer sliding out, followed by the scrape of furniture against the banister.
Your hand rested on your belly. Twenty-two weeks. So close, yet so far.
You turned slowly in a circle, trying to decide which box to open first. The one labeled KITCHEN – FRAGILE stared back at you like a challenge. You ignored it and went for the one marked BOOKS – LIVING ROOM.
Jack thumped down the stairs a minute later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Okay,” he said, out of breath. “I don’t care what the listing said, that hallway is not ‘spacious.’”
You grinned. “You got it up there, though?”
“Barely. I think it’s staying with the house when we die.”
You sat on the arm of the couch, letting the stretch in your lower back ease out. “I was going to start on the books.”
Jack glanced at the box. “Start with the ones we never read but pretend we did. Those can go on the living room shelves.”
He crossed the room to you and crouched down, one hand brushing against your knee, the other settling on your belly. “How’s he doing?”
You shrugged. “Chattier than usual. I think he likes the noise.”
“Or he’s already judging our furniture arrangement.”
You looked around. The couch was at an awkward angle, the coffee table hadn’t made it in yet, and you still hadn’t decided if the painting from your old apartment belonged anywhere in this new place.
It was chaos, but it was yours.
Jack leaned his head against your leg. “We’re really doing this,” he said, quieter now. “This whole thing. House. Baby. All of it.”
You ran your fingers through his silver hair. “We are.”
You felt home.
——————————————————
24 Weeks
Your belly had rounded out more noticeably now. Jack couldn’t keep his hands—or his eyes—off of. Even during the most chaotic shifts, he found a way to check in: a hand on your lower back, a squeeze to your palm during charting, the kind of quiet glances that spoke louder than words.
You were 24 weeks today, at work while he was at home. Hopefully putting together more furniture that had just come in.
He texted you during rounds. “24 weeks. Viable. Our little one could make it of their own now.”
That night, it stormed. The kind of downpour that made traffic impossible, left sirens echoing too often, and made everything feel a little more raw.
You came home late, soaked and silent. Too tired to cook. Too wired to sleep.
Jack was the one who finally said it, after hours of half-watching some muted show from the couch.
“Come here.”
You were already next to him, but he opened his arms like he meant it—like he needed more.
You crawled into his lap, careful of your belly. He cradled you against him, one hand on your thigh, the other curved protectively around your stomach.
“The baby kicked earlier today,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to wait until it was just us.”
His expression softened. He brought both hands to your belly now, thumbs brushing side to side like he was trying to feel her through will alone.
And then, like magic, another kick.
His face lit up like he’d been handed the universe.
You nodded, and he exhaled the kind of breath people only release when they’re holding too much love at once.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with something I haven’t even met.”
You leaned forward and kissed him—soft and slow.
Your hand slid under his shirt, fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His lips moved against yours like a promise.
He lifted your shirt carefully,, until your belly was exposed.
Then he sank to his knees in front of you on the couch, lips brushing against the stretch of skin just above your navel.
“Hi baby,” he whispered. “It’s Daddy. You keep growing strong in there, okay? I’ll take care of her out here.”
You blinked back sudden tears, heart too full, body aching with love and something deeper.
He looked up at you, reading your expression instantly.
“C’mere,” he said softly, rising to his feet.
“Let me take care of you, too.”
———————————————————————
26 Weeks
The nursery didn’t look like much yet—just a pile of boxes, a folded-up rug, and the smell of fresh paint still lingering faintly in the air. You stood in the doorway with a mug of chamomile tea, watching Jack wrestle with the instructions for the crib.
You stepped inside, careful over the half-unrolled rug, and knelt beside him. “Want me to read while you build?”
“God, yes. I’ve been pretending this part makes sense for twenty minutes.”
You took the manual, flipping through to the page with the exploded diagram. “Step one says attach Panel A to Side B using bolt type—wait, why are there three types of bolts?”
Jack looked at you like he might cry. “They’re identical, I swear.”
You laughed, and he softened at the sound, reaching to squeeze your knee. “Don’t laugh at the father of your child in his hour of need.”
“I’m laughing with you.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Not yet.”
You handed him the correct bolts—probably—and settled beside him, your back leaning against the wall.
You watched as he slowly pieced the frame together, getting into a rhythm. The room felt warm, despite the January air outside. You two had basically ignored the holidays with everything else going on.
The walls were pale blue now—soft and quiet.
Jack slid one of the sides into place, then sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Oh god, it’s done,” he declared.
“Certified by the ER doc?”
“I’ll get it notarized.”
You looked around. The rocking chair was still in the box. The mobile was still in the bag. There were folded baby clothes in a laundry basket in the hall, waiting for a dresser you hadn’t found yet.
But the crib was up.
Jack sat beside you, his shoulder against yours, both of you looking at it like it had just made something real that wasn’t quite real before.
“You okay?” he asked after a while, voice low.
You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just hitting me a little.”
“What part?”
You took a breath, exhaled slowly. “That there’s going to be a baby sleeping in that crib soon.”
Jack looked over at you, and his expression softened into something you’d seen a thousand times but never got tired of. That quiet, steady awe he reserved just for you.
“Our baby,” Jack said.
You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You think we’ll be any good at this?”
“I think we’ll be tired. And messy. And figuring it out every day. But yeah.” He kissed the side of your head. “I think we’ll be pretty damn good.”
You closed your eyes for a second, letting the weight of the moment settle.
“You know,” Jack said, voice casual, “we still haven’t settled on a name.”
You smiled. “We’ve ruled out a lot, though.”
“That counts for something.”
Jack looked over at you. “Okay, so what do you like?”
You hesitated, watching the light from the window spill across the floor. “I keep thinking about names that sound solid. Not trendy. A name that would be good for when he’s an adult trying to get a job.”
Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I still like Wesley for a boy.”
You smiled faintly. “Yeah. That one can stay on the list. Even though you heard it on TV somewhere and it has no meaning to us”
“It’ll have meaning once theyr'e here.” He turned his head toward you.
“I think it kicked just now, maybe it is a boy after all,” you whispered, one hand on your belly.
Jack moved to kneel in front of you, resting his palm gently over yours.
“You like that one, huh?” he said to your stomach, smiling.
You both sat with it for a minute in silence. It was the kind that stretched and softened between people who knew how to share it.
“So Wesley for a first name or middle name?” Jack sat up, crossed his legs. “Do we honor someone? Or do we just pick something that sounds good?”
You shrugged. “We still have a couple weeks. I’m sure something will come to us by then.”
Jack looked up at you, eyes soft. You reached for his hand, and together, you sat there, naming the future, one piece at a time.
———————————————————————
28 Weeks
You hadn’t planned on finding out.
At first, it was just going to be a surprise. Something you’d discover together in the delivery room, sweaty and overwhelmed and crying. But over time, the not-knowing started to weigh heavier than expected.
Jack never pushed. But you caught him daydreaming from time to time, talking to your bump in quiet moments, cycling through baby names. Jack had a strong feeling you were carrying his son. Only talked about boy names.
So when your OB offered to write it down in a sealed envelope, you nodded without hesitating.
You didn’t want to open it. Until tonight.
“I want to know,” you said softly, sliding the envelope across the kitchen counter to Jack. “If you still do.”
He looked up from where he was getting dinner ready, eyes wide.
“You sure?”
You nodded, pulse already racing.
He wiped his hands on a towel, drying them carefully before picking it up.
“You open it,” you said.
“No,” he said gently, “I want to see your face when you find out.”
Your chest tightened. Hands trembling just slightly, you broke the seal. You unfolded the single piece of paper.
And read the word.
BOY.
It didn’t hit you all at once.
Then Jack stepped around the counter, reading it over your shoulder.
And everything stopped.
He laughed—but it broke halfway through, a sound caught between disbelief and something close to a sob. He pressed his forehead to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and belly in one movement.
“A boy,” he whispered. “We’re having a son.”
You laughed too, and suddenly the tears came fast.
Jack held your face in his hands.
“A son,” he said again, voice. “I swear I’m going to love the hell out of this kid.”
You ran your hands through his hair, brushing it back from his face as his eyes stayed locked on your belly.
“I think he already knows,” you said.
Jack looked up at you, eyes glassy. “He’s going to know everything. Every day. How much we love him. How much he’s wanted.”
And for the first time in weeks, the future didn’t feel so far away.
———————————————————————
32 Weeks
Your schedule had barely lined up with Jacks in the past couple weeks. But once it did, Jack had plans for you two.
The night went on, chaos as usual. Until 4AM.
He caught your eye in the hallway—just a glance, but you knew that look.
You had just sat down to eat a quick snack when he appeared behind you, voice low, warm against your ear.
“Follow me.”
You glanced around. “Jack—”
He turned, walking away like he hadn’t just whispered something that set your skin on fire.
You followed him anyway.
The on-call room door clicked shut behind you a moment later. The lights were off. Jack didn’t turn them on.
He just backed you against the wall with a hand on your belly and a kiss that made time stop.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured against your mouth. “You’re happy. Glowing. Carrying our son.”
His hands slipped under your scrubs. One slid around to the small of your back, the other resting protectively over your bump.
“I love how you say our son,” you whispered, already breathless.
“Say it again?”
You smiled. “Our son.”
His hand dipped between your legs without hesitation, cupping the heat he knew was waiting for him.
“Fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “You’re always so ready for me.”
He lifted you onto the edge of the nightstand, working fast but careful.
Your legs parted, scrubs halfway down, his mouth on your neck, hand moving between your thighs until your head hit the wall behind you.
“Quiet,” he whispered. “You know these walls are paper thin.”
“Then don’t make me moan,” you shot back, voice thick with want.
His grin was wicked. “No promises.”
He dropped to his knees and disappeared between your legs, and all you could do was bite your knuckle and hope the shift stayed quiet five more minutes.
Jack’s tongue dragged through your folds like he was memorizing you all over again.
Slow. Deep. Obsessive.
Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the cot so tightly your knuckles ached.
“Jack—” You breathed his name like a warning.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow.
His tongue circled your clit with precision while his fingers slipped inside you, curling up at just the right angle.
It was too much yet somehow not nearly enough.
You came hard and fast, biting back a cry as your body arched.
He stayed with you the whole way, holding your hips, riding out every pulse of your orgasm like he wanted to feel it himself.
By the time you opened your eyes, he was already standing, undoing his scrub pants with one hand, eyes locked on you like he might not survive another second without being inside you.
“Turn around,” he said, voice rough and ragged.
You obeyed, turning to face the wall, breath still uneven.
He slid into you slowly, deep and the sound that came out of both of you was pure relief.
“God, you feel so fucking good around my cock babygirl.” he groaned.
Your forehead pressed to the wall, mouth open, body rocking back to meet his every thrust.
“Harder,” you whispered. “I can take it daddy.”
He gave you what you asked for. Each stroke slamming into that sweet spot inside you, his body hot and heavy behind yours, his rhythm fast and hungry.
“You’re mine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “My wife. The mother of my child. My whole fucking world.”
You pushed back into him harder, chasing that edge again.
“Then don’t stop,” you gasped. “Show me.”
And he did.
The pleasure built fast. Frantic and unstoppable. You reached between your legs, fingers circling your clit.
“Ja-Jack—”
“Fuck, I’m close.”
“I’m gonna—”
You came together, your body clenching around him, his hips jerking deep inside as he spilled into you.
The only sound in the room was your breathing, shaky and uneven.
He leaned over you, still buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.
“Get dressed before someone…
A knock at the door made you both freeze.
“Hey!” came Robby’s voice. “Tell me you’re not doing what I know you’re doing in there!”
Jack groaned and dropped his head into your shoulder, chuckling.
“One minute!,” he whispered. He pulled out of you slowly. “Worth it.”
Since this had become somewhat of a habit, Jack had towels ready to clean himself off of you.
You tried to walk out first. Tried to act like it was just another on-call nap.
But you didn’t even make it to the nurse’s station before the ambush.
Robby stood with a cup of coffee in hand, leaned against the counter with the same smug look he wore anytime he caught anyone doing something even almost against the rules.
“You two owe me new ears,” he said flatly. “And a therapy session.”
Dana, sitting beside him, didn’t look up from her chart. “At least pretend to be subtle next time. We have patients trying to survive, and you two are in there giving the walls a show.”
You felt Jack step up behind you, his hand finding your lower back as always.
“We were gone maybe twenty minutes,” he said.
Dana finally looked up. “You were gone forty-five minutes. And you walked out looking like you just finished a marathon.”
Jack grinned unapologetically. “Best forty-five minutes of my life.”
“Yeah, we all know that wasn’t the first time.” Said Robby while rolling his eyes.
Langdon appeared from around the corner, perfectly deadpan. “If HR asks, I didn’t hear a thing. But if I ever get stuck in that on-call room, I’ll just sleep outside instead.”
You groaned and buried your face in Jack’s shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around you like a shield. “Hey, she needed a break. Doctor’s orders.”
Robby snorted. “Oh yeah? Was the baby involved in that medical necessity?”
Jack didn’t miss a beat. “He approved.”
That brought everything to a halt.
Dana’s eyes widened. “He?”
You blinked, cheeks warming. “Yeah. We decided to open the envelope.”
Langdon raised a brow. “So the orgasm was celebratory?”
You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Can we please change the subject?”
Too late. Dana stood, walking around the counter to hug you with a wide grin.
“A boy,” she said warmly. “God help us all.”
Jack leaned in and kissed the side of your head, completely unbothered by the teasing. And for a moment—amid the chaos, sarcasm, and inappropriate comments, it felt like everything was exactly how it should be.
“Hey, you ready to head home?”
“Yeah, I just need to talk to Robby first. Should be quick.”
“Glad you’re finally taking your time away from here.”
You went to Robbys office where Collins was sitting inside talking to him.
“Hey, you mind if I steal your husband for a couple of minutes?”
“He’s all yours.” As she was walking past you, she put her hand on your growing stomach. “Hey there baby boy!”
You stepped inside and shut the door. “Ugh, this back pain is going to have me admitted soon enough.”
He nodded and gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. Talk to me kid. Whats going on?"
You lowered yourself into the chair slowly—thirty-two weeks in, and even basic everything came with sound effects now.
Robby leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “How you feeling?”
“Tired. Hungry. Nervous.”
He nodded. “So, business as usual.”
You cracked a smile. “I- I wanted to get started the paperwork for maternity leave.”
Robby didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at you. Not with surprise, he knew it was coming.
“When are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’ll think I want to work up to 36 or 37 weeks, depending on how I’m feeling.
“Think that’s a good idea. How long do you want after?”
“Well I think that 12 weeks would be good enough but, Jack wants me to take 6 months.”
“If you take 3 months or 6 months, you’ll always have a place here.”
There was a quiet moment. He scratched something on a notepad, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You know it’s going to be weird here without you.”
“Don’t worry, you’d have to physically drag me out of here to keep me from coming back after.”
“I know.” He gave a faint smile. “Still going to be weird.”
You shrugged. “You’ll have Jack. He’ll keep you in line.”
Robby snorted. “Jack barely keeps Jack in line.”
“Yeah about Jack actually.” Your tone became more serious. “He’s just been so anxious recently, you know all the baby stuff and now the house and work. I- I need to know that if something goes wrong during delivery…if something happens to me…” You took a deep breath. “You’ll take care of Jack.”
Robby didn’t move. For a long second, he just stared at you. Then he leaned forward, slow and steady, until his arms rested on the desk in front of him. “You think he wouldn’t be taken care of?”
You shook your head. “No, that’s not—he’d survive. Of course. But he’d fall apart first. And he wouldn't let anyone see it. Not even Dana. Not even Langdon. Not anybody. He’d keep working. He’d try to act like he was okay, and it would eat him alive.”
Robby sat back slowly, his face unreadable. Then he spoke, and his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “You think I haven’t already thought about that?”
You blinked.
“I’ve known Jack for too long,” he said. “Watched him lose patients. Watched him get in fights. Watched him fall in love with you so fast it scared the hell out of me.” He let out a dry breath. “I’ve already thought about what I’d do. I just hoped I’d never need to.”
“I know it’s unlikely,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “But things go wrong. Even when they’re not supposed to.”
He nodded slowly. “You’ve been on both sides of the trauma bay. You know better than anyone.”
The room went quiet for a long time.
Then Robby leaned forward again, lacing his fingers on the desk.
“If something happens,” he said, “I’ll take care of him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t drown in it. I’ll bring him home. I’ll put food in his fridge and get him to shower and tell him he’s not okay, and that’s fine. I’ll do all of that. As many times as it takes.”
You swallowed hard, eyes stinging.
“But,” Robby added, “You don’t get to disappear on us. You hear me?”
You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
“I mean it. You’re allowed to be scared. But you don’t get to check out. Not if I’ve got a say in it.”
You nodded, brushing at the corner of your eye.
Robby stood and came around the desk. For a second, he just looked at you—like a brother would. Then he reached down and pulled you into a hug, careful of your belly but not at all careful with his heart.
“I got you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”
And for the first time in weeks, your breath felt like it reached all the way down into your chest again.
You let the silence settle for a beat, eyes drifting to the framed photo on Robby’s desk— a picture of Collins and their child at the beach, sand stuck to their legs, wide grins that didn’t care about sunscreen or the time.
He caught your gaze. “It changes everything you know. Having a kid.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’ll be good at it, though. Both of you.”
You blinked a little too fast and looked down at your hands. “We’re trying to figure it out.”
“You don’t have to know everything yet. You just have to show up.” He paused, then added, “That kid’s already luckier than most.”
You didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded. Let the words sink in.
Robby cleared his throat and reached for a folder. “I’ll email you the HR packet. We’ll work out the schedule. You just tell me if anything changes, okay?”
You stood, placing a hand on your belly with a small smile. “Thanks, Robby.”
As you turned to leave, he added, “Hey.”
You looked back.
“If I hear even one more thing about you and Jack using that on-call room like a honeymoon suite, I’m locking it from the outside.”
You laughed. “Deal.”
And as you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, you felt a little lighter.
One step closer to meeting your son.
———————————————————————
34 Weeks
Jack stood alone at the supply cart, restocking syringes with mechanical precision. The rhythm of it was almost meditative.
Robby found him there, hands in his jacket pockets, lingering like someone who had something to say and didn’t quite know how to start.
“Glad she took the night off.”
“Yeah she spent the whole day throwing up, almost had to bring her here as a patient. But she’s okay now, just needs to rest for a couple days.”
“You think she’ll make it to 36 weeks here?”
“For the baby’s sake, I hope not. But knowing her and her stubbornness, she will."
Robby leaned against the wall, silent for a moment. “She came to see me 2 weeks ago.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About the maternity leave?”
“Yeah,” Robby said. “But not just that.”
Jack set the last syringe into place and shut the drawer. “Okay?”
Robby watched him for a second. “She asked me to take care of you.”
Jack stilled.
“She said if something happens, during delivery, if so…meshing happens to her, she wants to make sure you’re not alone.”
The silence stretched between them.
Jack didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared at the closed drawer like it could explain something.
Robby stepped forward, lowering his voice. “She’s scared, Jack. Not of being a mom. Not even of labor, I don’t think. But of what it would do to you if something went wrong.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. He nodded once, like that was all he could allow himself.
“I told her I’d look out for you,” Robby said. “I told her I already planned to.”
Jack finally looked up. His eyes weren’t wet, but they were close. “She shouldn’t be thinking about that.”
“She’s a doctor. A damn good one. She knows the risks. Seen more than anyone should have to.”
“I know, I know.” His voice was rough, low. “I just- I don’t want her scared.”
“She’s not scared of dying,” Robby said gently. “She’s scared of leaving you. It’s not the same thing.”
Jack looked down again, rubbed a hand over his face. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly: “You’ll keep your word?”
Robby didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I will.”
Another pause.
“I can’t lose her Robby,” Jack whispered. “I won’t make it.”
Robby put a hand on his shoulder, solid and sure. “You’re not going to.”
Jack nodded, slow. Then rubbed both hands over his face again, this time with more force—like he could scrub the fear off.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
Robby let his hand fall away. “Just- when she needs you to act calm, act calm. And when she needs you to panic a little? Panic with her.”
Jack cracked a faint smile. “You give this speech to every soon-to-be dad?”
“Only the ones who might implode if things go sideways.”
Jack smirked, barely, but it was there. “Fair enough.”
They stood there a minute longer both carrying more than they said.
And then, like always, they went back to work.
Except now he pulled every OB resident he trusted into side conversations. Asked about signs of hemorrhage. About shoulder dystocia. About NICU protocols and what really happens when things don’t go as planned.
He framed it like curiosity, like professional interest—but Dana knew, and Langdon knew, and Robby definitely knew.
———————————————————————
36 Weeks
You were exhausted. Sitting at home all day wore you out more than you ever thought it would.
The kind of exhausted that made you feel like everything in your body was weighing you down.
Thirty-six weeks. You’d stopped counting days. But Jack still looked at you like you were the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.
Which, at this moment, made you feel like you needed him just as much as he needed you.
You were lying on your side in bed, a hand resting protectively over your belly, when he came in from his morning shower. Damp hair. Bare chest. Sleepy smile.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to your bump. “Need anything?”
You looked up at him, slow and deliberate. “Yeah actually,” you said softly. “I need you.”
He crawled into bed beside you, careful as always, hand coming to rest on your thigh.
“What kind of need are we talking here?”
You shifted, moved with deliberate slowness, until you were kneeling between his legs. Belly full and round between you.
His eyes widened—concerned first, then darkening quickly as he realized where this was going.
“Babygirl, are you sure ? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you. But you’ve just been so tired lately.”
You looked up at him. “Let me take care of you.”
He swallowed hard. His cock was already twitching in his boxers, barely hidden.
You pulled his waistband down, freeing him.
Thick and heavy, already hard in your hand. You kissed his tip first, slow and soft, tasting his precum.
He groaned immediately, hips twitching. “Fuck.”
You took him into your mouth, just the head at first, letting your tongue swirl around.
His hand found your hair, gentle, never pushing, never rushing.
“You’re so good at this my dirty girl,” he murmured. “God, baby, you don’t have to…”
You went deeper, and he lost the rest of the sentence.
You worked him with your mouth, your hand wrapped around the base, moving in slow tandem with your tongue. He was unraveling beneath you, every sound he made proof of how much he needed this, needed you.
He brushed your hair back, groaning your name. “I’m close,” he warned. “You want me to?”
You pulled back just far enough to say, “In my mouth, Jack. I want all of it.”
That was all it took.
He came, hips bucking once, his hot release spilling onto your tongue. You kept going, gentle, milking him through it until he was panting, eyes glazed over like he’d just saw heaven.
When you finally sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he looked up at you like you’d just knocked the breath out of him.
“So me babygirl. Show me what I gave you.”
He sat up, looking directly into your eyes. You opened your mouth, his cum spilling out of the corners. With his thumb, he guided his seed back into your mouth until you sucked on his thumb. Getting every last drop of him.
“Swallow me.”
And you did.
“I do not deserve you,” he whispered.
You smiled, easing back beside him. “You really, really do.”
He pulled you close after that, one hand on your belly, the other tangled in your fingers.
“Just remind me to return the favor,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You smirked. “You’ve got four weeks, daddy.”
And Jack? He looked ready to make every one of them count.
———————————————————————
37 Weeks
Jack didn’t make a big deal out of the due date. He didn’t talk about it much, didn’t circle it on a calendar or start any countdown. But you knew he was keeping track. He always kept track.
You started noticing the little things first. How your car’s gas tank was always full. How your overnight bag slowly filled itself, snacks, chargers, an extra hoodie he never wore but packed anyway because you liked it.
He just did it. All of it without you ever saying anything.
Sometimes you’d catch him in the nursery at night. Not doing anything, just standing there. One hand on the crib rail, eyes tracing the space like he was rehearsing something he couldn’t quite say out loud.
He rewired the baby monitor so it reached farther. Tested it three times. Installed a soft nightlight in the hallway, not because you needed it, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of fumbling in the dark if something happened.
There was a checklist in his notebook. Not digital—written by hand. Folded neatly in half and kept in his back pocket when he came home from work.
Jack didn’t talk about fear. He didn’t talk about worst-case scenarios, or about what could go wrong. But when you reached for his hand at night, his fingers were already waiting.
One evening, you found him sitting on the floor beside the crib, tightening one of the screws even though it didn’t need it. You leaned against the doorframe and watched.
“You think he’ll like it?” you asked quietly.
Jack looked up at you. Nodded. “Yeah. I think he will.”
You didn’t say anything. You just put your hand over his.
———————————————————————
38 Weeks
You were done waiting. Having your baby in April felt nice.
Every step felt heavier. Every hour dragged.
Thirty-eight weeks, swollen and aching, and somehow still wanting him inside you more than ever.
Jack had been hovering since you took the first test.
You came into the bedroom after your shower, towel slung around your waist, damp hair curling at the edges. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hand resting instinctively over your firm your belly.
“Hey,” he said softly, already reading the look in your eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you whispered. “But I need you to help me.”
He crossed the room quickly, crouching in front of you. “What’s wrong?”
You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “I need you to fuck me again.”
He pulled back slightly, eyebrows raised, lips parting. “You serious?”
“I’ve read every myth and midwife blog I could find. Sex helps induce labor. And if this baby’s ready, I am, too.”
This wasn’t just sex. It was trust. It was the both of you saying: Let’s do this. Let’s meet our son.
He stood to meet you at the edge of the bed.
You lay back on the bed, shifting carefully, hips wide to make space for everything you were carrying. He climbed over you like he’d done it a thousand times but, this was different.
His hands trailed down your sides, reverent. His eyes never left yours.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmured.
“Only thing that feels wrong is not having you inside of me fucking me into labor.”
That pulled a groan from his throat.
He knelt between your legs, guiding himself into you slowly, carefully. You were wetter than you’d expected. Desperate.
“God,” he whispered as he slid in. “You feel incredible.”
You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling full and stretched and grounded.
Every movement was slow at first, deeper than fast.
Jack bent to kiss you, moaning into your mouth as your hips rolled up to meet him.
“You good, babygirl?”
“Better than good. Don’t stop, daddy.”
And he didn’t.
He moved like he was trying to memorize your body one last time before everything changed. His hands on your belly, his forehead pressed to yours, soft grunts against your skin.
Then suddenly—your body tightened.
Not in pleasure. But in pressure.
You gasped, hand flying to your stomach.
“Jack—”
He stopped instantly. “What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”
“No—no. I thi- I think that might have been a contraction.”
He blinked, his entire body going still. Still inside you. “Like a real one?”
Another one followed, sharper. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s definitely real.”
Jack pulled out gently, panic and awe crashing over his face. “Okay. Okay, baby—uh—do we call the OB? You want to go now?”
You grabbed his wrist, eyes locked on his. “Jack. Finish what you started.”
His mouth dropped open. “You still want..”
“I’m not in active labor yet. Might as well fuck me until I am.”
He laughed, full and loud, and kissed you hard.
“Well,” he muttered against your lips, guiding himself back in, “if my son wants to arrive in style.”
And with that, you rode wave after wave—of contractions, of pleasure, of something sacred and wild and absolutely yours.
By the time the next contraction hit, you were already moaning into his neck.
And your labor had officially begun.
———————————————————————
Jack’s hand never left yours during the car ride, one on the wheel with one hand, gripping yours with the other. The go-bag was already in the car with everything you could need while in the hospital. Plus more.
You were timing the contractions on your phone, trying to breathe through them, but they were coming faster now. Five minutes apart. Then four.
By the time he pulled into the hospital lot, you were doubled over in the passenger seat.
“Fuck,” you hissed, clenching his hand. “That one hurt.”
Jack threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing around to your door.
“Okay, let’s go. Slow and steady.”
You were halfway to the entrance when a voice called out—
“Hey, that looks like an ‘I just had sec and now I’m in labor’ face.” Robby. Of course.
Jack just flipped him off without breaking stride. “Call OB, she’s in labor. Now.”
Dana was at the triage desk when you walked in, her eyes wide.
“Whoa, whoa—are you…?”
“Yep,” you gasped. “Contractions. Thirty-eight weeks. We’re about to have a baby.”
She jumped up from her chair. “Got it. OB’s on call. We’ll page them. You need a wheelchair?”
“No,” you gritted out. “I can walk—”
Another contraction hit, and your knees buckled slightly. Jack caught you with both arms.
“You’re not walking anywhere,” he muttered, already lowering you into a chair someone had wheeled over. “I’ve got you.”
The elevator ride was a blur. Someone shouted “incoming labor!” over the intercom, and by the time the doors opened on L&D, a nurse was already waiting with a gown and a monitor.
Dana, Robby, and Langdon had followed the chaos up as far as they could. The doors started to close again, but not before you looked back and saw them.
Robby grinning like a lunatic. Dana blinking hard like she might cry. Langdon sipping coffee and saying, “Don’t forget to breathe, Jack!”
Then the doors shut. Hours blurred. Morning into afternoon.
Contractions. Monitors. The deep, low sound of your own breath trying to ground you. Jack never left your side. Even after three coffees and a panic attack in the hallway.
“You’re doing amazing babygirl.” he whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.
“I better be,” you groaned. “You’re the reason this is happening.”
He laughed softly, kissed your forehead. “Best thing I’ve ever done.”
Then your OB walked in, checked your dilation, and said the words:
“It’s time to push.”
Jack froze. You squeezed his hand so tight he winced.
“Ready?” He asked.
Jack nodded for you both. “Yeah. We’re ready.”
Your legs were up in stirrups. The pressure was unbearable. But Jack was there, one hand gripping yours, the other bracing behind your head.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “So, so good. You’ve got this.”
Your OB sat between your legs, calm and steady.
“Okay, next contraction,” he said. “Push for me.”
You nodded, bracing yourself. Then it hit. Face twisting in pain.
Jack was right there, voice in your ear. “That’s it. Come on, babygirl. You’re almost there.”
Your OB’s voice cut through the haze. “He’s crowning! One more big push—just one more!”
Tears blurred your vision. You weren’t sure if they were from pain or adrenaline or love.
Maybe all three.
“Come on, mama. Bring our boy home.”
And with one final, scream—you pushed.
And then,
A cry.
“Time of birth: 2:24 p.m.,” said the OB.
But you didn’t hear anything except the sound of your son’s first breath.
Jack choked out a sob beside you, hand covering his mouth as he stared.
“He’s here,” he whispered. “Oh my God. He’s here.”
They laid your son on your chest, slippery and warm, his fists clenched tight as he wailed against your heartbeat.
You looked down and lost yourself completely.
Tiny nose. Your dark hair. His father’s eyes.
He quieted the second you touched him. Jack leaned over you both, tears streaming freely now.
“Hi, baby boy,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m your dad.”
You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his face.
“We did it,” you breathed.
He kissed your lips, salty and trembling. “You did it,” he whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Alright, have to deliver the placenta on your next contraction.”
You leaned your head over to the left, looking down at what was happening to the lower half of your body.
Your expression faltered. Your eyes rolled slightly.
Jack’s smile vanished. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping your face. “What’s wrong?”
Your eyelids heavy. Your sight of Jack directly in front of you becoming blurry.
“Alright we got some bleeding here.”
Blood. Everywhere. Jack could hear it pouring onto the floor below you.
“She's hemorrhaging!” a nurse shouted.
“You shouldn’t be in here Dr. Abbott!” Said your OB.
“No, I’m not leaving her!”
“Someone go get Robby!” A nurse yelled from across the room.
“Jack..” You managed to get out in a whisper.
“I’m right here. I’m right here babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.”
“N-no, his name… Jack.” you breathed. “Your name. He should know who he comes from.”
Jack shook his head, blinking hard, lips trembling. “Don’t say it like it’s goodbye.”
“It’s not,” you whispered, your breath catching. “It’s for him. Just in case. I want him to carry you forever.”
Jack leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, tears slipping from his eyes and into your hair. “Okay,” he choked out. “Okay, we’ll name him Jack. Our boy. He’ll know.”
Your eyes fluttered, body growing heavier by the second. You exhaled, barely audible.
Jack kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips—desperate to keep you tethered. “I love you. Don’t let go. Please, baby, don’t—”
Your eyes shut.
The commotion around you barely audible as you slipped out of consciousness. “BP’s dropping—she’s crashing!” “Get her to ICU now. We need to intubate and stabilize.”
“No, no—” Jack stumbled forward, but Robby caught him, using all his strength to pull Jack out of the room and into the hallway.
Jack could barely breathe.
He didn’t even realize the team pushing your crying baby boy passed and down to the nursery.
“Jack,” he said carefully. “Listen to me.”
Jack shook his head. “She was fine—she was fine a couple of minutes ago, Robby.
“I know. But she’s not now. She’s in the best hands. Let them work.”
“I- I can’t do this without her, Robby. We’re supposed to be talking about the rest of our lives right now. I won’t make it through this alone. I need her.”
“You’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And with her. You don’t need to do this by yourself now.”
He lowered himself to the cold, hallway floor. Arms went up, hands above his head, fingers intertwined in his hair.
“I can’t lose her Robby.” His voice broke as he looked up, tears pouring down his face, eyes already bloodshot.
His entire world just changed in the blink of an eye. Because your family just began. But you weren’t there for it with him.
———————————————————————
Wooo, my longest fanfic so far! Y’all I had to take so many breaks while writing this. Also accidentally deleted the whole thing and almost threw my laptop across the room but, here it is! And there obviously has to be another part.
Let me know what you guys think down below please ! :)