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Jack Abbot wasn’t a stupid man; he’d been in the field too long, seen too many patterns, too many bodies telling the story before the tests ever did. And everything part of Jack was screaming; Dennis wasn’t sick with the stomach flu. It had started small, Irritability. Fatigue. The kind of exhaustion that sat heavy in the bones and wasn’t just from a bad night’s sleep. Then came the vomiting. At first, Jack hadn’t thought much of it, he’d heard Dennis vomiting when he came in one morning, curled around the toilet in the bathroom down the hall, likely trying not to wake Robby.
Jack had checked to make sure the younger man was fine; he’d been waved away with a claim of stomach flu or food poisoning and with that, Jack had left him alone. It happens. They all work in a hospital—it wasn’t exactly surprising. But then it happened again the next day. And the day after that. Each time worse. Each time Dennis looked a little paler, a little shakier, like something inside him was steadily draining him dry.
By day five, Jack couldn’t ignore it anymore. He’d watched Dennis at lunch, pushing food around on his tray, barely managing a few bites, before excusing himself. He’d watched Robby hover, worry written all over his face. And Jack had felt it then—that cold, creeping certainty threading through his chest, winding tight around old scars he’d never quite managed to bury.
He knew.
Didn’t want to. God, he didn’t want to. But he knew.
So he’d gone down to supplies, hands steady out of habit rather than calm, and grabbed three pregnancy tests and a collection cup. Three, because one wasn’t enough—not when the stakes felt this high. Not when the past was clawing its way up his throat with every step back to the locker room.
Dennis had just arrived and looked absolutely wrecked. There was no kinder way to put it. His skin had that sickly, sallow tinge, lips pale, eyes dull with exhaustion. He was slumped on the bench by the lockers, staring down at his untied shoe as if it had personally offended him, one hand braced against his stomach as if willing it to behave.
It was too familiar, and left Jack feeling breathless for a moment. Still, he forced himself to move, to act, forced himself to stay grounded in the moment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a packet of Zofran. “Catch,” he called, before tossing the small foil pack to his partner.
Dennis blinked sluggishly, barely managing to get his hands up in time. The foil packet landed in his palm, and he stared at it as if it might explain itself.
“What’s this?” he asked, words slow, thick with fatigue. He didn’t even question taking it—just started peeling it open on instinct.
Jack swallowed hard. “Zofran. For the nausea.” His tone was clinical, steady—controlled. Always controlled. “If you throw up within thirty minutes of taking it, let Perlah know. She’ll get you on an IV.”
He set the cup and tests down beside him, the plastic clicking faintly against the bench.
Dennis followed the sound, gaze dropping—and then stopping.
“Jack?” he murmured, picking up the cup. Confused. Suspicious.
And there it was. The moment. Jack felt it press in on him—the weight of what he was about to say, the inevitability of it. His pulse ticked upward, memories stirring just beneath the surface, sharp and unwelcome.
“Go pee in the cup, kid,” he said. He kept his voice calm. Even. It cost him more than he let on.
Dennis snorted softly, shaking his head. “Why? It’s just the stomach flu.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. God, he wished it were. Memories of Katy pale and laughing it off. Katy hunched over the sink telling him it was nothing. “It isn’t,” he replied quietly. Softer now, “Please, just humor me.”
Dennis scoffed, clearly not convinced, but he pushed himself to his feet anyway. Jack’s heart lurched violently when Dennis’s legs immediately gave out.
Jack was already moving, one arm wrapped around Dennis’s waist, steadying him before the kid could hit the ground, guiding him back down onto the bench with practiced care.
“Sorry, I’m fine,” Dennis muttered.
“The hell you are,” Jack snapped, before he could stop himself, the sharpness slipping through the cracks of his control. He had to force himself to breathe out slowly, trying to rein in the emotions. But the edge remained. “This is what’s going to happen. Either you let me walk you to the bathroom and you pee in this cup now, or we will go home together, and you’ll do it there. But you’re peeing in a cup one way or another today.”
Dennis glared at him unimpressed, before grumbling, “You’re grumpy, I don’t like it.”
‘Yeah, well, join the club,’ Jack thought. He chose not to answer, not trusting himself to keep a tight hold on his feelings.
Robby stepped into the locker area, eyebrows raising. “Everything okay here?”
Jack’s eyes didn’t leave Dennis as he replied to Robby, “Can you help me get Mouse into the bathroom?”
“I’m fine,” Dennis protested as he batted weakly at their hands. “Stop,” he pushed himself upright again, slower this time, and snatched the cup from Jack like he was reclaiming some level of independence. “This is ridiculous, it’s just food poisoning.”
It didn’t escape Jack that the kid hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of being pregnant. It had only been six months. But it was the best six months of Jack’s life so far. Laughter, learning about both men, building something precious and beautiful. It hadn’t come up once, because pregnancy wasn’t on anyone’s mind. But Jack knew the reality of it, just like they did. Protection failed, birth control failed. Biology didn’t care about timelines or intentions.
Robby waited until Dennis disappeared around the corner and into the private bathroom. “What’s going on?”
“He’s pregnant,” Jack replied. The words felt heavy. Real in a way they hadn’t been before this point.
“What!? Are you sure?” Robby looked back at where Dennis had just been.
Jack shook his head, scrubbing his hand down his face, trying to push back the tide of emotions threatening to pull him under. Katy, round and heavy, with a beautiful boy they were dying to meet. Katy, whimpering that something was wrong, as they waited for the ambulance to pull them out of the car.
Katy, unmoving on the gurney, bled out due to a placental abruption. The baby was stillborn.
Jack let out a slow, shaky breath. “Obviously not, hence the strips, but I’m fairly confident, he’s got all the same symptoms as—” Jack sighed. “But I’m fairly confident.”
“He’s got all the same symptoms as—” He cut himself off, the name catching in his throat anyway. He swallowed, but it didn’t help. “Katy was pretty sick at the beginning, too. Just like this.”
Memories surged—sharp, vivid, cruel.
“Katy always blamed me,” he added with a hollow, humorless huff. “Said it was my sperm being extra strong or some shit.”
Robby’s hand landed on his shoulder, grounding, steady. “Hey. He’s going to be fine. Dennis is a tough kid.”
“Yeah, Katy was a tough woman, look where that got her.” He mumbled, misery all over his face.
Dennis returned a few minutes later with his collection cup. Jack didn’t hesitate. The second Dennis stepped back into the locker room area, he crossed the space and took the cup from him. Too quickly, based on the flicker of surprise on Denni’s face.
Jack was aware that both men had followed him; he needed space. Needed a minute to breathe. Jack didn’t look at either of them as he moved on autopilot, as he pulled gloves from the wall, snapped them on, and opened the collection cup.
His hands were steady, but his mind was anything but. He felt like he was struggling to breathe as he tore open the packaging on the first cassette, then the second, and finally the third. He grabbed the dropper and placed three drops of urine on each of the three strips.
It was probably overkill; these were hospital-grade, but he couldn’t leave room for doubt. Behind him, Dennis huffed. “You can’t be serious. Come on, Jack. I’m on testosterone and birth control.”
“Neither of which is one hundred percent effective,” Jack countered before placing each strip down on a pad of clean paper. The hospital’s strips were a little quicker than the at-home tests. As he stripped off his gloves, he watched the control line appear first. Then slowly the second fainter line appeared. On the first strip, then the second one, and finally the third.
Three identical answers, three confirmations. For a second, the room tilted—not enough to show, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that he felt it in his bones. Enough that his chest tightened like a vise.
Katy laughing it off.
Katy pale and shaking.
Katy telling him it was nothing.
Katy bleeding.
Katy begging him to take care of himself and the baby, not realizing their baby boy was already gone.
Jack ripped his gloves off harder than necessary, the snap loud in the small room. He stepped back, putting physical distance between himself and the tests like they might burn him if he stayed too close.
He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until his lungs started to ache.
“Congratulations,” he heard himself say, voice hollow, distant—like it was coming from somewhere outside his own body. “We’re pregnant.”
Dennis’s eyes widened, his face growing grayish green before Jack thrust an emesis bowl under his face. Meanwhile, Robby stepped forward and looked down at the three tests. All positive.
“Sit down,” Jack ordered gently, steering the boy to the bed in the middle of the room. “PERLA!” He barked, louder than necessary, the name tearing from his throat like it may anchor him back to the present.
He turned back to Dennis immediately, crouching slightly so he was at eye level, scanning him without thinking. Looking at his color, breathing, responsiveness, anything off, anything else wrong. “Stay with me, kid. I’m right here.” He whispered, gently cupping his handsome face.
Perla stepped in a moment later. Her expression immediately shifted when she took in Dennis’s appearance. “What’s up—oh.” Her tone softened as she moved closer. “Hey, don’t keep it in, honey,” she whispered, before she stepped forward to the cabinet and pulled out the things they’d need for an IV.
“Start him on a banana bag, wide open; he’s been vomiting for days, and get him an antiemetic IV started as well. Dennis, if the nausea doesn’t pass once we’ve started the IV, let me know.” Jack ordered.
“Jack—” Robby began, turning and looking back at the two men he loved most in the world.
Jack sighed, “I know. Kid, we gotta talk once you’re feeling a bit more stable.”
When I’m not about to come apart at the seams.
He didn’t wait for a response. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave. He turned and walked out, fast, down the hall, shoulders tight, pulse roaring in his ears. He barely registered anything else around him before he shoved his way into the nearest bathroom and sank to the floor, as his leg had finally given out.
“Surprise, daddy!” she beamed at him.
“Daddy, that’s a new—” he paused when she thrust the stick at him. “Oh my god, really?”
She squealed and threw her arms around his neck; he whirled her around laughing.
Her laugh. The way she’d practically launched herself at him. The weight of her in his arms as he spun her around, both laughing like nothing in the world could ever touch them.
They’d been so ready. So, fucking ready.
The breath Jack dragged in now shook on the way down, breaking apart in his chest. And he knew—knew down to his bones—that this was how it started. Seven months of happiness and elation, only to end in total disaster.
Fuck.
It felt like someone had reached into his chest and was peeling his heart out all over again.
A soft knock broke through the memory. Jack flinched, reality slamming back into place around him. He looked up to see Robby slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind himself. “Dennis is asleep for now. He’s exhausted, and I think this has all been a bit much for him.”
Robby moved across the bathroom and sank down to the floor beside Jack, wincing at the knowledge that this was a public bathroom.
“Is he keeping it?” Jack asked, voice hoarse with emotion.
Robby shrugged slightly, “He hasn’t said. I’m not even sure we’re there yet, to be honest.” Then, more carefully, “Is—is that something you’d want?”
Jack huffed, “Does it matter? If he doesn’t, that’s the only opinion that matters.”
Robby leaned his head back. “Jack, you didn’t kill Katy, and you aren’t going to kill Dennis.”
Jack’s head snapped toward him, sharp enough to shut down anything else Robby had been about to say. “Don’t,” Jack warned quietly.
Robby raised his head in surrender, shifting tactics. “Look, whoever’s baby it is, it’s going to be fine.”
Jack laughed under his breath, humorless and brittle. “Ten to twenty percent of pregnancies end in miscarriages, Robby. You and I both know the statistics. We’re both over fifty, which makes it significantly higher. Dennis is close to thirty now as well, which means his risk goes up.”
“Jack,” Robby cut in, softer this time, like he could hear the spiral Jack was dragging himself through. He reached over and threaded his arm through Jack’s and lacing their fingers together. “You’re putting the cart way before the horse, brother. Look, one step at a time. Let’s get Dennis to a point where he feels stable enough to discuss this, then we’ll see what he wants. That’s what matters.”
Jack swallowed, throat tight, eyes burning as he stared somewhere past the tiled wall.
“You and I both knew going into this…” Robby continued carefully, “Kids probably weren’t happening for us. Has that changed?”
For a second—just one—he let himself feel it. That quiet, aching space he usually kept locked down tight. The image of small fingers wrapped around his own. A sleepy weight against his chest. Laughter echoed through a home that had once felt far too quiet.
He had wanted it. God, he’d wanted it more than he’d ever admitted out loud.
But that wasn’t why he’d fallen for Robby. And it sure as hell wasn’t why he’d fallen for Dennis.
Dennis was—
Dennis was everything.
Bright and stubborn and kind, with that crooked smile that had somehow worked its way into Jack’s chest and made itself at home. The kid could never give him a thing, and Jack would still choose him. Every time. Without question.
“…No,” Jack answered honestly, his voice rough but steady. Because he really did love Dennis, and his ability to have children played no part in that. “No. It hasn’t.”
“Okay.” Robby studied him for a second, then asked more quietly, “Are you going to tell him about Katy?”
The reaction was immediate. “Fuck no,” Jack replied, shaking his head emphatically. The words came out sharp, fast, almost visceral. Jack shook his head, jaw tight, something raw flashing behind his eyes. “I’m not putting that on him. I’m not scaring him with—” his voice hitched slightly before he forced it flat again, “—with something that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
It didn’t matter that it felt like history repeating itself.
This wasn’t Katy.
Dennis wasn’t here.
“This is his pregnancy,” Jack continued, quieter now but no less firm. “His call. Whatever he decides—that’s it. End of discussion.” A beat. “Katy doesn’t get to touch this.”
Not his hope. Not Dennis.
Not this fragile, terrifying possibility.
The look on Robby’s face was skeptical, but he kept his opinions to himself. Robby stood, then held out a hand to help Jack up. The pair unlocked the bathroom door and opened it, ignoring the looks from their fellow employees, and headed back into the hospital room.
Trinity had joined at some point and was sitting at the side of the gurney, holding his hand, talking to him quietly. His blue eyes were still lined with exhaustion, but he had a soft smile on his face now. They both glanced over at the door as the attendings stepped inside.
Santos stood, looking ready to rip the two men to shreds, “You knocked him up.” Her voice was deadly and quiet.
Her voice was quiet, controlled—and far more threatening for it.
Jack stiffened instinctively. He wasn’t foolish enough to pretend Santos didn’t intimidate the hell out of him on a good day, and right now she looked about three seconds away from making good on that threat.
“Santos—” Robby started.
“No.” Her gaze cut between them, sharp as glass. “Are you going to take care of him…and that baby?”
The question hit like a dropped weight in the middle of the room.
Jack froze.
For half a second, he couldn’t answer—because his eyes had already shifted back to Dennis.
Dennis, who looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Jack blinked, thrown off balance by it. “You’re… keeping it?” he asked, voice quieter now, disbelief and something dangerously close to awe slipping through whether he wanted it to or not.
Something in Jack’s chest cracked wide open. Hope. Terror. Love. All tangled together into something overwhelming and impossible to separate.
“Right?” Trinity pressed.
Jack didn’t hesitate this time. “Abso-fuckin-lutely,” Jack replied as he moved past her and sat down in the chair she’d vacated. He brushed the curls out of his face and smiled. “We’re in,” he added, softer now. “One hundred percent.”
“Does Robby get a say?” Robby asked dryly, though the smile tugging at his mouth softened it.
Jack huffed out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. “He does not.”
Then, quieter, more serious, his eyes locking with Dennis’s—
“We’re here, kid. Whatever you need.” And he meant it. God, he meant it.”
Robby stepped in beside him, voice warm and steady. “He’s right, Den. Of course, we’re going to support you. We love you, kid. That hasn’t changed.” A small grin, “Might love you a little more now, honestly.”
Dennis huffed a quiet laugh, “Can you set me up some?” he asked Jack.
Jack was already moving.
“Yeah, I’ve got you.” His hands were careful as he adjusted the bed, one steadying Dennis’s shoulder, the other controlling the incline. He moved more slowly than necessary, like he was afraid even a small mistake might hurt him.
Always scanning. Always watching.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked once Dennis was settled. “Any better?”
“Better. Still wiped. But the nausea’s… not as bad.” A pause. “I’m actually kind of hungry.”
Jack and Robby both lit up at that, relief flashing across Jack’s face before he could hide it.
“Good,” he said, softer, almost to himself. “That’s good.”
Trinity was already heading for the door. “Soup. I’m on it.”
“You’re going home once the IV’s done,” Robby added.
Dennis groaned weakly but didn’t fight it. “Too tired to argue.”
Jack smiled faintly, leaning in to press a brief, careful kiss to his hair—something soft, almost instinctive.
“We’ll get you home,” he murmured. “Nap. Couch. No moving unless necessary.” A faint hint of humor slipped in despite everything. “Growing a human is exhausting work.”
Dennis’s mouth twitched. “Yeah… it is.”
“Do you… Want to do an ultrasound?” Robby asked carefully. “We don’t have to yet.”
Dennis hesitated, then nodded. “I think I do.”
“I’ll grab the machine,” Robby said, already turning.
When he was gone, Dennis looked back at Jack, something earnest in his expression.
“Thanks for… figuring it out.”
Jack’s chest tightened again—different this time. Quieter. He reached for Dennis’s hand, turning it gently and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Glad I was right,” he said, voice low. “I was getting worried.” A small pause. “Did you suspect?”
Dennis shrugged. “A little. But I think I was in denial.” He huffed a breath. “It’s a lot, you know? I didn’t want to screw this up.”
Something fierce and protective flared in Jack’s chest at that. “You couldn’t screw this up,” he said immediately. Firm. Certain. “Not this. Not us.” He softened just a fraction, brushing his thumb lightly over Dennis’s hand.
“Robby and I didn’t go looking for you because we wanted… this,” he admitted quietly. “We chose you because we love you. Because you’re—” he huffed softly, shaking his head, like the words didn’t feel big enough, “—you.”
“Having a child with you…” His voice dipped, something raw slipping through, “that’s just… more of something I already wanted.”
Dennis’s expression softened, his hand coming up to brush along Jack’s cheek.
“I love you guys too.”
Jack leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. “Good,” he murmured, because anything more felt too big, too fragile to say out loud. The door opened again. Leaning forward, he pressed a light kiss against Dennis’s lips. Dennis kept it chaste, as did Jack, but he wanted to wrap this boy up and kiss him for hours.
Robby stepped back in with the ultrasound machine, glancing between them with a faint smile. “I’ve got the machine,” he said, then added with a knowing look, “and for the record, there’s no way this doesn’t spread through the unit.” Robby wheeled it over to Dennis’s bedside, getting it prepped and ready with familiar ease.
Jack’s stomach twisted; they did this so many times. It was routine and clinical. Just another scan, another patient, another case. Except today, it wasn’t. This time, Jack felt too aware of everything, of Dennis, pale but smiling. The IV running steadily into his arm, of the quiet anticipation that had settled over the room like a holding breath.
Robby glanced over at Jack, “You want to do it?” he asked softly.
Jack hesitated, did he? Part of him wanted control, wanted his own hands on the probe. But another part of him, sitting on the floor, filled with memories of blood and loss clawing at his throat. Jack shook his head, “You’ve got it, brother,” he whispered, voice quieter than usual.
Robby nodded in reply before he turned back to Dennis. He gently pulled up Dennis’s shirt, squirting the gel on it. “Sorry, it’s cold.” He offered, before pressing down with the wand and flicking on the screen, turning the dials, and moving the wand with his hand.
Jack shifted closer, one hand coming to rest lightly on Dennis’s arm, grounding him and himself, his thumb brushing absent circles against the kid’s skin, a steady, silent reassurance. “I’m here, baby,” he murmured low enough that it was just for Den.
“I—I see it,” he said, voice not quite holding steady. Robby didn’t say anything else right away. His brow furrowed, attention narrowing as he adjusted again, slower this time, more deliberate, and Jack felt the shift instantly—the hesitation, subtle but unmistakable. His chest tightened hard.
“What?” Jack asked, sharper than he meant to.
Robby stayed quiet, eyes still on the monitor, hand moving through another adjustment, and the silence stretched too long, too thick. Every alarm in Jack’s body went off at once. “Robby,” he said again, quieter now, but edged.
Robby exhaled slowly. “…Hang on.”
Jack’s heart slammed hard enough to hurt. No. No, that wasn’t something he ever wanted to hear in a room like this. The past surged up fast and vicious, all careful voices and controlled words and things going wrong while no one said it out loud. “No, you don’t get to ‘hang on,’” Jack shot back under his breath, already leaning closer, trying to see what Robby was seeing. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Robby said quickly—but he still didn’t look at him.
Jack’s stomach dropped. “Robby—”
“Jack.” This time, there was something else in Robby’s voice, not fear—something closer to disbelief. He adjusted the probe again, steadier now. “Just look.”
Jack forced himself to breathe, eyes locking on the monitor, pushing past the blur, past the panic clawing at his chest. There was one shape—clear now, unmistakable—and then something didn’t line up. He blinked, leaned in closer. There was… another.
A second shape, just beside the first. Smaller. Just as real. His brain stalled, refusing to process it. “No,” he breathed, not denial, just shock. “That’s—”
“Am…am I seeing two?” Dennis whispered.
“That’s two,” Robby confirmed softly.
Everything went still. Jack stared at the screen like looking away might change it, might make one of them disappear. Two shapes. Two. His chest tightened so sharply it almost knocked the breath out of him.
“No—” His voice broke before he could finish it, something overwhelming crashing through him all at once—hope, fear, grief, doubled, tangled so tight he couldn’t separate them.
“Twins?” Dennis asked, small and disbelieving.
“Yeah… looks like it,” Robby answered quietly.
Jack’s hand tightened where it rested against Dennis’s side, grounding himself, grounding him. Two. God, two. His mind split instantly in two directions—two chances, two risks, two ways this could go wrong—and the weight of it hit hard enough he had to catch himself, dragging in a rough breath. No. Not now. He couldn’t go there, not here, not in front of them.
“Hey,” Dennis said quickly, shifting focus back where it belonged, “Look at me. Breathe. Just—breathe, okay? Do you still want to do this, both of you still want this?”
Robby didn’t reply; instead, he just flipped a switch, and the sound filled the room a second later, rapid and overlapping, impossibly alive, and Jack forgot how to exist for a moment. His vision blurred just enough that he had to blink hard, grounding himself again in what he was seeing. Alive. Both of them. Alive. “I’m in,” Robby replied softly, smiling at them.
“Oh my—” Dennis’s breath hitched.
“Two heartbeats,” Jack whispered, quiet, almost reverent.
The pressure in his chest cracked wide open, something sharp and aching spilling out before he could stop it. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, dragging it down slowly as he fought to keep himself together. This was different. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was hope too, loud and undeniable, refusing to stay buried.
“I—” His voice failed this time. He swallowed, tried again, quieter this time, rough. “Yeah…yes.” He laughed, pressing a kiss on Dennis’s hand repeatedly.
o0o0o
They made it past the first trimester, Dennis was already popping, and complaining about hip, leg and knee pain. Every day was another day they made it without a problem, without trauma. Jack saw it the second Dennis stepped out of the bedroom that morning—slower, one hand braced unconsciously at the small of his back, the other resting low against the gentle curve that hadn’t been there before. Not subtle anymore. Not something you could explain away with a bad week or dehydration or denial. There was a visible, undeniable shift now.
And it hit Jack harder than he expected.
“Careful,” he said automatically, already moving toward him before Dennis even made it halfway across the room. His hand hovered at Dennis’s elbow before settling there, steadying, grounding, like it had developed a mind of its own. “You don’t need to rush anywhere.”
Dennis rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it—just tired amusement. “I’m not rushing. I’m walking.”
“You were leaning,” Jack countered immediately, gaze flicking over him in a quick, practiced scan. Color good. Breathing normally. No obvious distress. Still—something in his chest stayed tight anyway. “There’s a difference.”
From the kitchen, Robby snorted softly. “You’ve been leaning for like a month, Den. He’s not wrong.”
“Traitor,” Dennis muttered, but he let Jack guide him the rest of the way to the couch without putting up much of a fight. That, more than anything, set Jack on edge. Dennis didn’t give up ground easily—not unless he needed to.
The couch had basically become the command center over the last couple of weeks. Blanket thrown over the back, a nest of pillows in varying levels of usefulness, a bottle of water, half-finished snacks, prenatal vitamins lined up with near-military precision on the side table. Jack’s doing. All of it.
He eased Dennis down carefully, one hand still at his back as he shifted, the other adjusting a pillow behind him before he could even ask. “Better?”
Dennis let out a quiet breath as he settled, one hand still resting over his stomach almost absently. “Yeah. Actually… yeah.”
Jack didn’t move away. He couldn’t—not yet. His eyes dropped, almost without permission, to where Dennis’s hand curved over that small but unmistakable swell. It was still early, still relatively small by every standard he knew—but to Jack, it felt enormous.
Two.
God, there were two.
His chest tightened, that now-familiar collision of awe and fear pressing in at the same time. He reached out before he could stop himself, his hand hovering for half a second before settling gently over Dennis’s, careful, almost reverent.
“…They’ve been quiet this morning?” he asked, voice lower than usual.
Dennis glanced down at their joined hands, something soft passing over his expression. “Still too early to feel anything, remember?”
Right.
Of course.
Jack knew that. He knew the timelines, the physiology, all of it—but knowing didn’t stop the instinct. Didn’t stop his brain from wanting constant confirmation, constant reassurance that everything was still okay.
“Right,” he murmured, though his thumb still brushed slowly over the back of Dennis’s hand anyway, like motion alone might anchor the moment.
Robby moved closer then, setting a mug down on the table. “Ginger tea. Before either of you argues.”
Dennis eyed it suspiciously. “I’m not even nauseous right now.”
“Preventative,” Robby said easily, dropping down onto the arm of the couch. “Humor me.”
Jack didn’t even look up. “Drink it.”
Dennis huffed but reached for the mug anyway, taking a cautious sip. “You two are insufferable.”
“Mm,” Robby nodded. “And yet, here you are. Carrying both of our children.”
That did it. Dennis choked slightly on his drink, coughing as he laughed, and Jack’s reaction was immediate—hand back on his shoulder, the other steadying the mug to keep it from spilling.
“Easy—hey—slow down,” Jack murmured, tension spiking all over again until Dennis waved him off.
“I’m fine,” Dennis managed between breaths, still smiling. “Jesus—you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
Jack stilled slightly at that. His gaze flicked back down, then up again, something quieter settling into his expression.
“It is ridiculous,” he said softly, almost to himself. “In the best possible way.”
Because six weeks ago, this didn’t exist. Not really. There were symptoms and possibilities and fear.
Now it was real enough to see.
Real enough to protect.
Real enough to lose. And Jack wouldn’t survive that again.
The thought tried to creep in, sharp and unwelcome, but Jack shoved it back down hard before it could take root. Not today. Not here.
Instead, he shifted closer, his arm settling along the back of the couch behind Dennis’s shoulders, fingers brushing lightly against his upper arm in a steady, grounding rhythm. “Any pain today?” he asked, tone slipping back into something quietly attentive. “Hips, back?”
Dennis made a face. “My lower back is staging a protest. And my hips feel like they belong to someone else.”
“Twins,” Robby offered lightly. “You’re already ahead of schedule.”
Jack’s jaw tightened briefly at that—facts he knew but didn’t particularly enjoy being reminded of out loud. “We can adjust your support,” he said instead, already reaching for another pillow. “And you’re not overdoing it today. I mean it.”
Dennis gave him a look. “Define ‘overdoing it.’ I work in the ER, twelve hours a day on my feet.”
“Anything that isn’t sitting, resting, or being taken care of,” Jack replied without hesitation.
Robby snorted. “Good luck enforcing that.”
Jack didn’t smile, but there was a faint softness at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at Dennis. “He’s outnumbered,” he said quietly, thumb brushing once more across Dennis’s hand.
“Christ, it’s going to be a long five months,” Dennis grumbled.
Robby waited until Dennis was in the shower before approaching their partner about his behavior. He knew this was getting out of control, even he was starting to go a little crazy because of Jack’s overbearing tendencies. The apartment was quiet, just the steady sound of water running down the hall, muffled through the door. Jack was in the kitchen, methodically lining up prenatal vitamins like their exact spacing might somehow make a difference. It was the kind of precise, controlled motion Robby had been watching for weeks now, the kind that told him Jack’s head wasn’t where it should be.
“Alright,” Robby said finally, pushing off the counter. “We need to talk.”
Jack didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed as he replied, “We’ve been talking.”
“No,” Robby countered, shaking his head. “We’ve been avoiding talking. Or at least you have been.”
That finally got Jack’s attention. The man’s hands stalled before he finished adjusting the bottles exactly where he wanted them, and finally looked up, his expression guarded. “Okay, what would you like to talk about?” Jack asked.
Robby briefly wondered if the frustration he was feeling was how Jack had felt last year when trying to get a suicidal Robby to back down from his sabbatical. “Don’t do that,” he replied quietly, shaking his head, scratching at his beard. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Jack’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word; his beautiful eyes were gaining that teary shine they got before he had to fight for control of his emotions. Robby hated the idea of hurting this man, but this couldn’t continue. “About you not sleeping,” he continued, stepping closer, voice lowering. “About you tracking every single thing Dennis eats, what he drinks, and how long he’s on his feet. About the fact that you haven’t stopped watching him like something bad is going to happen for a second if it’s outside your watch.”
Jack looked away, “He’s in the shower right now,” he countered weakly.
“Fucking—hell,” Robby muttered. “Jack, you gotta tell him, man.”
The words hit like a spark to gasoline. The man went rigid, his jaw tight, clenched. “No.” The response was immediate, sharp, and decisive.
Robby didn’t back down. “Jack—”
“No,” Jack repeated, firmer, tension threading through every line of his body now. “We’re not doing this.”
“We are,” Robby said, stepping in front of him so Jack couldn’t just turn away and pretend this conversation wasn’t happening. “Because he’s starting to notice. Hell, he’s been noticing for weeks. He doesn’t understand, Jack. You know, Dennis, baby. You know he’s insecure, you know he’s afraid we’ll see him as a child. All he knows is you’re treating him like some fragile piece of glass, and knowing him, he’s drawing all the wrong fucking conclusions.”
Jack let out a short, humorless laugh, “I’m acting like a doctor.”
“You’re not,” Robby replied flatly. “You’re not, baby. You’re acting like a man who’s terrified something terrible is going to happen and that if he just watches and obsesses hard enough, he can stop it.”
Jack didn’t deny it. Though he didn’t confirm it either. But the silence stretched, Jack unable to meet his gaze. Robby moved, gently cupping his partner’s face. “You don’t think I see it? The way you tense every time he winces, the way you hover every time he stands. You’re bracing for the worst, I know you, Jackie. I know you’re scared, but this is no way to live. This is supposed to be a happy time. Things are going so well. You deserve to be happy, we all do.”
Jack’s hand curled at his side as he stared at Robby, being forced to.
“Say it, baby. Say it out loud.”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to him.” Robby shot back, dropping his hands. “It matters to you. Right now, it feels like you don’t trust him with his own body.”
Jack flinched at that, subtle but real.
“That’s what he’s feeling, Jack. That you think he’s going to screw this up. That you don’t trust him to carry this, to carry them.”
Jack’s brows furrowed, “That’s not what I think. That’s not it.”
“You need to talk to him, Jack. He deserves to know.”
Jack’s posture went rigid. “Drop it.”
“I’m not dropping it,” Robby replied, just as firmly. “Because that’s what this is. You don’t think you’re doing the same thing—but you are. You’re carrying all of that alone and pretending it’s not bleeding into this.”
“I said drop it,” Jack repeated, voice lower now, edged.
Robby stepped closer anyway. “He deserves to know why you’re like this.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Jack snapped, the control finally cracking. “He deserves not to have that hanging over his head. He deserves to be happy about this without—without me dragging—” he cut himself off hard, dragging a hand over his face.
Without me dragging a ghost into it.
Robby didn’t soften.
“If you don’t tell him,” he said, “he’s going to make up his own explanation. And I promise you, it’s not going to be kinder than the truth.”
Jack shook his head, already backing away from that. “No. I’m not putting that fear on him. I’m not. He doesn’t need to hear about worst-case scenarios, about complications, about—” His voice faltered for just a second before hardening again. “This isn’t the same.”
“No,” Robby agreed quietly. “It’s not. But you’re the same man who went through it. The same man who’s forcing him to go through it now.”
For a second, something raw slipped through Jack’s expression—grief, fear, guilt—all tangled together before he forced it back under. Robby was sure he’d gotten through to the man.
“That’s exactly why I’m not telling him,” Jack said, quieter now but no less firm. “Because I know how this goes. I know how fast it can turn, how wrong it can go, and I’m not going to poison this for him before we even get there.”
“You don’t think he can handle the truth?” Robby asked.
“I don’t think he should have to,” Jack shot back. “Not when he’s the one carrying them. Not when he’s already dealing with everything else his body’s throwing at him.” He shook his head again, more emphatically this time. “This is supposed to be his experience. His pregnancy. Not—” he exhaled sharply, choking the rest of it back.
Not my trauma.
Robby watched him for a long moment, something complicated in his expression. “You’re not protecting him as much as you think you are.”
Jack’s laugh was short and hollow. “Maybe not. But I’m not doing it. End of discussion.”
Robby didn’t move.
“Jack—”
“No,” Jack cut him off again, final this time. His voice dropped, steady but unyielding. “I’m serious. I’m not telling him. I’m not scaring him. I’m not making him second-guess every ache or cramp because of something that happened years ago.” His jaw tightened.
“You already are doing that.” Robby reasoned. “He’s going to push back eventually. You know that.”
Jack didn’t hesitate, “Then I’ll deal with that when it happens.”
“Jack—”
“I said I’ll deal with it then.” With finality in his tone, Jack brushed past him and stalked into the bedroom.
Robby huffed a sigh, lowering his head. “Fuck.” he murmured.
o0o0o
By six months, Jack had stopped calling it caution and started calling it necessity. In his head, at least. Out loud, it was still being careful. Watching. Staying ahead.
Dennis called it something else entirely.
“Stop,” Dennis snapped, sharper than he had in weeks, jerking his arm slightly out of Jack’s grip as he tried to stand up from the couch. “Just—stop hovering for five seconds. I’m walking to the damn kitchen, not running a marathon.”
Jack froze for half a second, hand still hovering where it had been ready to steady him. His instinct was immediate—step in, correct, fix—but Dennis was already looking at him with a mix of frustration and something closer to anger than Jack had seen from him before.
“You’re leaning again,” Jack said anyway, quieter now, trying to keep it even, reasonable. “Your hip—”
“I know about my hip,” Dennis cut him off, voice rising. “I’ve been living in this body the whole time, Jack.”
That landed harder than it should have. Jack’s jaw tightened, but he stepped back an inch. Just an inch. It felt like miles.
From the kitchen, Robby looked between them, tension settling into his posture. “Hey—”
“No,” Dennis said, turning on him next, frustration spilling over. “No, don’t ‘hey’ me like I’m overreacting. You see this, right? You see how he’s been acting?”
Robby hesitated. Just for a second.
And that was all it took.
“Oh, great,” Dennis let out a disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “So, it’s not just me. Are you just completely fine with this? With him treating me like I’m going to—what, break if I stand up wrong?”
“That’s not—” Jack started.
“It is,” Dennis shot back immediately, eyes flashing now. “I can’t sit without you adjusting something. I can’t walk without you watching me like you’re expecting me to fall over. You’re timing when I drink water, Jack. Timing it.”
Jack didn’t answer. Because he was.
“And you,” Dennis added, looking back at Robby, voice tight, hurt threading under the anger now, “you’re just letting him. You’re supposed to be the reasonable one.”
Robby winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Den, we’re just trying to—”
“Help?” Dennis cut in, shaking his head. “This doesn’t feel like help. This feels like you both think I’m a liability.”
The word hit. Hard. Jack’s chest tightened sharply, something twisting beneath his ribs. That wasn’t—God, that wasn’t it at all. “You’re not a liability,” he said quickly, too quickly, stepping forward again despite himself. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” Dennis demanded, voice cracking just enough to show how much this had been building. “Because I don’t understand why you’re acting like every step I take is dangerous. Last I checked, I’m a doctor too, Jack. Everything is going well, great even. So, what the fuck is your problem?”
“Okay, let’s all just take a breath here,” Robby interjected, stepping between the two men.
Jack was shaking, literally trembling, while Dennis was standing there quietly, clenching and unclenching his hand. Jack let out a trembling breath as he sank to the floor, covering his eyes.
Robby looked at the man, “Jack,” Robby insisted.
“I—” he shook his head.
“He deserves to know, Jack. Tell him the fucking truth.”
Jack shook his head and turned, stalking out of the condo.
Robby growled. “Fuck, kid, sit down, lets talk.” He didn’t know if Jack would forgive him for this, but he wasn’t going to let this continue any longer, because this was stressing Dennis out, and he knew Jack wouldn’t want that.
“I’m not a liability,” Dennis whispered.
“No, you’re absolutely not, baby. You’re not. You know that Jack was married before he and I started dating.” Dennis nodded at that. “You also know she passed away, but you don’t know how she died.”
“He never talks about her.”
“No, he doesn’t, not even with me. I only know because I was there when…” Robby sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Jack and Katy married about two years before he shipped out to Iraq. She was there with him through the loss of his leg, through all of it. Fuck she was great.” Robby smiled sadly, “We were close while he was gone. Jack and I were already friends by then, but we really bonded once he got back, and we got him through the leg loss. They got pregnant in 2021, shortly after a lot of the restrictions were lifted. They were so happy. Jack couldn’t wait to be a daddy, and Katy,” Robby shook his head with a grin. “She was the happiest pregnant woman I’d ever seen. When she was around seven months pregnant, they—” He let out a long breath. “They were on their way to a medical gala of all things. It was supposed to be a beautiful date night. They were t-boned by a drunk. It caused her placenta to pull away from the uterine wall.”
“Fuck,” Dennis whispered.
“Yep,” he replied, voice hoarse. “It took them thirty minutes to extract her from the car—by which time she’d started bleeding externally, as you can imagine. She bled to death in the emergency room. We couldn’t save her, and the baby—”
“Died in the car, I’m guessing,” Dennis mumbled.
Robby nodded, tears coursing down his cheeks as he recalled having to break the news to his best friend. Having to watch his best friend mourn the loss of his wife and baby.
“It was an accident,” Dennis offered quietly. “Everything could’ve gone right if that hadn’t happened.”
“Yep, you’re right,” he replied numbly, wiping at his cheeks. “And everything could go right with you, and he’s still going to be scared shitless.”
“I’m an asshole.”
Robby’s head shot up, “Hey! No, none of that.” Robby moved forward, crouching down in front of the boy. “Den, this isn’t your fault, and the only reason he hasn’t told you is that he didn’t want to scare you, or make you feel—” he sighed, “Well, the way you’re feeling now. Look, there’s no question, he’s overreacting, he’s being overbearing. But he’s doing it because he’s crazy about you, and he’s crazy about those babies. And he’d do anything to make sure we all get to meet them three months from now.”
Dennis gave him a teary nod before Robby pulled him into a hug, rocking him back and forth. “How are we getting him home?”
Robby chuckled, pulling away and kissing his lips, “I don’t know, but he’ll probably come home when he’s calmed down.” He reached up, capturing his chin and deepening the kiss. “In the meantime, if he’s going to pout, I’d like to enjoy my partner.”
“Mmmm, would you?” Dennis grinned.
Robby pulled him forward, gently, of course, pulling Dennis’s sweats and briefs off.
o0o0o
Dennis was lying on his side, pillow beneath his belly, watching TV when the front door opened. Jack stepped in, looking at Dennis, “Where’s Robby?”
“Got called in to cover for Mel. You hungry?”
Jack waved him off, “I can grab it, need anything?”
Dennis chuckled, “Uh, to be about fifty pounds lighter.”
“Those are my babies you’re talking about.” Jack smiled at him before heading into the kitchen. He pulled out the lo mein from the night before. Grabbing a fork, he stepped back into the living room, grabbed the pillow under Dennis’s head, and sat down, letting the kid rest his head against his thigh. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “I owe you an apology, Mouse.”
Dennis gently ran his hand over Jack’s thigh and knee. “I’m sorry about Katy.” He whispered in reply.
“He told you,” Jack whispered.
“He did. Don’t blame him, he was just trying to do the right thing. I wish you’d told me, but I understand why you didn’t.” Dennis groaned as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright, Jack helping a bit. “Jack, Robby, and I talked. Katy was perfectly healthy; if she hadn’t been in that car accident, you’d have had a beautiful baby. That’s the tragedy. And I’m so, so fucking sorry. But I need you to stop obsessing over every little detail of the pregnancy. Things are going great, and I’m already scared shitless about this.”
“Denny—”
He held up his hand, “Let me finish, please. I know you’re scared, and your fears are justified; any fears about a pregnancy are, and we’re having twins. But I also want the chance to be excited about this, for you to be excited about this. We’re having babies,” he grabbed Jack’s hand and gripped it, the grin wide on his face.
Jack smiled as he reached over and pressed his hand on Dennis’s belly. Grinning when he felt two light kicks against his hand. “Hey, you two. I’m your Papa.” He whispered. He felt his eyes burning as he pressed his ear against Dennis’s belly. “I am sorry,” he murmured.
Dennis ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, “I love you so fucking much, Jack. I love you both, and I can’t wait to raise our babies together.”
o0o0o
It wasn’t unusual to induce labor at thirty-four weeks with twins, but that didn’t make watching Dennis any easier.
He’d been walking the length of Pitt for nearly fifteen hours, one hand pressed protectively to his stomach, the other bracing against walls, counters—anything he could reach when the contractions hit. He groaned through them now, lower and rougher than before, every step slower than the last. No one stopped him; they all knew the plan, knew this was part of it, that he wanted to be surrounded by his family, and the day crew was more than happy to help between cases. The nurses coddling him, getting him whatever he needed, and most of the doctors, his friends, occasionally joined to walk a lap with him. Still, by hour seventeen, when he hit seven centimeters, they finally called it and brought him up to maternity.
Jack hadn’t let go of him once.
Not when they wheeled him upstairs, not when they settled him into the room, and definitely not now, as Dennis paced a restless line across the floor, pausing every few steps to lean forward and catch his breath.
“Fuck,” Dennis whimpered, voice breaking as another contraction rolled through him. “We’re not doing this again. Ever. Never again.”
Robby was right there behind him, hands braced under Dennis’s belly, lifting slightly to take some of the strain off his back and hips. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured softly, voice warm but strained with concern. “You can say that as many times as you want right now.”
Jack stayed at his side, one hand firm against Dennis’s lower back, working steady pressure into the muscle. “Deep breaths,” he soothed, voice low and deliberate, like he could anchor him with it. “You’ve got this. Stay with me.”
Dennis let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan halfway through. “I hate you both right now.”
“Fair,” Robby muttered.
The door opened, and Dr. Arya Mital stepped in, calm and composed as ever. “Alright, Dennis, I’d like to check your dilation.”
Dennis sagged slightly against Robby with a tired, desperate sound. “Oh God, please just get these freeloaders out of me.”
Jack couldn’t help it—he huffed a quiet laugh, tension cracking just enough to breathe. Even Arya smiled.
“I’m just going to take a look,” she said gently, crouching. “You’re doing really well.”
Dennis nodded weakly, past the point of caring about dignity, about privacy—about anything except getting through the next contraction.
A moment passed, then Arya straightened. “Alright, sweetheart, you’re at ten. Time to have some babies.” She glanced at Jack and Robby. “Let’s get him on the bed, boys.”
They moved quickly but carefully, one on each side, guiding Dennis up onto the bed. Jack adjusted the pillows behind him while Robby helped position his legs, easing them into the stirrups.
Dennis collapsed back with a groan, sweat dampening his hair, chest rising and falling hard.
“You’re doing so well,” Jack murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. His voice was steady, but his chest was tight with something bigger than nerves now. “Almost there.”
“We are not doing this again,” Dennis repeated weakly, another contraction already building.
“Absolutely not,” Robby said quickly, with a quiet, almost hysterical chuckle. “We’re done. I’ll schedule the vasectomy myself.”
Jack huffed under his breath. “Both of us.”
“Damn right.” Dennis moaned.
Arya stepped closer again. “Alright, Dennis, next contraction, we’re going to push. Big breath in, then push as hard as you can.”
Dennis nodded, dragging in a breath, fingers gripping Jack’s and Robby’s hands tightly as the contraction peaked.
“Now,” Arya said.
Dennis pushed, face tightening with effort, a raw, strained sound tearing out of him.
“Breathe,” Jack reminded him, voice low but firm.
“I am breathing,” Dennis snapped, collapsing forward as the contraction faded, exhausted.
Arya smiled gently. “I see the head. One more like that and we’ll have shoulders. Big breath and push again.”
Dennis cried out as he bore down with everything he had left. For a split second, the room seemed to hold its breath—
—and then something shifted.
Relief. Release.
A cry split the air.
Jack froze.
The sound hit him straight in the chest, sharp and real and overwhelming.
“There we go,” Arya said as she worked quickly. “First baby—”
The nurse stepped forward, taking the newborn as the cry grew louder.
“It’s a girl.”
Robby let out a startled, breathless laugh beside him, while Jack just stood there for half a second, stunned, heart hammering.
But Arya was already moving. “Alright, Dennis, don’t relax just yet. We’ve got one more.”
Dennis sagged back against the pillows, shaking his head. “No… no, I’m done. I’m so tired.”
Jack leaned in closer, brushing his thumb over Dennis’s knuckles. “Hey. One more. That’s it. Then you’re done—I promise.”
“I don’t think I can,” Dennis mumbled, but even as he spoke, another contraction hit and his body tensed again.
Arya’s voice sharpened slightly, encouraging. “Push.”
“You’ve got this,” Robby urged, right until a nurse stepped up beside him holding their daughter.
His voice cut off. He stared.
Jack caught it immediately. “Oh, wow,” he muttered dryly. “Already distracted.”
Robby didn’t even deny it, tilting the bundle slightly, awe written all over his face. “Actually… I think she’s yours.”
Jack blinked, leaning just enough to see—and then he laughed, breath hitching. “Of course she is.”
Bright red hair.
Dennis groaned weakly from the bed. “You never told me you had red hair.”
“You’ve seen pictures,” Jack shot back automatically, though his attention was already splitting in too many directions.
“Focus,” Arya reminded gently. “One more push.”
Dennis dragged in another breath and pushed, crying out as the second baby followed moments later, smaller and quieter but no less real.
A softer cry filled the room.
Two.
They both cried.
Dennis collapsed back fully this time, chest heaving, tears mixed with sweat on his face. “I… did it?” he managed.
Jack let out a shaky laugh, leaning forward and cradling the back of his head for a second. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you did.”
Robby stepped in closer, still holding their daughter, his expression softer than Jack had ever seen it. “Hey… you want to hold her?”
Dennis’s face broke open completely. “God, yes.”
Robby carefully helped settle the baby into his arms, guiding his hands to support her.
“Hey, beautiful,” Dennis whispered, voice cracking.
On the other side, a nurse approached Jack with the second baby. “Here you go, papa.”
The word caught him off guard—it took him a second to process it—but his arms came up automatically, instinct overriding everything else as he took the newborn.
“Hey, little man,” he murmured, voice quieter than he meant it to be.
Dennis looked over, eyes shining despite his exhaustion. “What color’s his hair?”
Jack glanced down, taking in every detail. “Dark. Like Robby’s.” A small pause. “Eyes are blue, but… that’s normal.”
Robby chuckled softly. “Give it time.”
The three of them shifted closer together, drawn in without thinking, forming a quiet, perfect circle around Dennis and the babies.
Jack carefully leaned in, helping position their son into Dennis’s other arm.
“They’re perfect,” he said, voice rough now, emotion finally pushing through as he looked between the two tiny lives cradled against Dennis’s chest.
Across from him, Robby nodded, just as undone.
“Yeah,” Jack said softly. “They really are. Thank you,” he murmured pressing another kiss to Dennis’s temple.
Dennis just nodded, “Welcome, but you’re both getting snipped tomorrow before we go home.”
“Okay, moment over,” chuckled Robby.
The End