Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Hey, sugar,” Spencer greets as Ryan shuffles into the room. Ryan knows the tone in his voice, recognizes that slight trepidation, and sighs as he leans heavily on the counter, rubbing at his eyes until he starts seeing weird patterns behind his eyelids. 

“Hi, Spence,” Ryan says, allowing the resignation to seep into his voice. 

Exactly as Ryan expected, Spencer asks “can we talk?” 

Spencer, because he has a lot of experience in forcing Ryan to talk, generally ambushes him at a time when he’s either about to sleep or just woken up, since he knows being a little sleepy puts Ryan in a strange, confessional mood. Ryan knows exactly where this is going, although that won’t stop it from working, unfortunately. 

“Sure, baby,” Ryan sighs, crossing his arms. “What do you want to talk about?” 

Spencer bites his lip, takes a nervous sip of his redbull, and, after an extremely pregnant pause, (pun intended,) says “those kids gotta come out.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Ryan snarks, too groggy, (and fucking uncomfortable ,) to be gracious. 

“You know we have to talk about that, right?” Spencer points out. “As much as people joke about it, I cannot actually read your mind, and doctors certainly can’t, so we’re gonna need a rough gameplan.” 

“I’d rather not have this conversation,” Ryan says flatly, opening the fridge door for an excuse not to watch Spencer’s steady gaze. He’s not getting out of this, he knows that, but he’s sure as hell gonna try. 

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’d rather not do, like, half the stuff you’re gonna have to do in the next couple months, but here we are,” Spencer replies. Ryan likes the word ‘we,’ there. That’s priority number one, he thinks, if they’re having this goddamn conversation now. Spencer is essential. 

Ryan sighs, closes the fridge without getting anything, and says a resigned “hang on.” He shuffles back to the bedroom, grabs a notebook out of the bedside table, opens it to the page he’s looking for as he shuffles back, and tosses it down on the kitchen counter in front of Spencer, too tired and fidgety about the topic in general to even begin to feel bad about making Spencer decipher his fucked up handwriting. 

“What’s this?” Spencer asks immediately, tilting his head at the paper and squinting his eyes as he attempts to read it. 

“Therapy exercise that Amy had me do sometimes,” he says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. A massive goddamn hoodie, not actually made for pregnant people, just a double XL so it’ll swallow him up. He prefers that, it makes him feel less like every aspect of his life is defined by being pregnant. He can still buy normal fucking clothes, thanks, just big ones. Sure, the sleeves are way too big, but that’s, like, a style now, right? Ryan chooses to believe it’s a style. “Something she told me to do when things keep me up at night,” Ryan explains further, scratching at his nose awkwardly when Spencer turns to look at him. “Think of all the worst case scenarios, write them down, plan for how to get through them, and then you can calm down a bit because you know that you’re prepared for the worst, and it probably won’t be that bad, anyway.” 

“Does it work?” Spencer asks. 

“Sometimes,” Ryan shrugs. 

“Did it work this time?” 

“No,” Ryan admits, averting his gaze. “But it helped, kind of, and it’s somewhere to start.” 

“I liked Amy,” Spencer muses as he looks down at the paper, mercifully talking around the subject of what he’s reading. “Maybe we should go back to her for a session or two.” 

“Why, do you think we’re having issues?” Ryan asks, going back to his previous task of finding something to eat. 

“No, but you get check-ups for your physical health, right? And we’re progressive young men, or whatever, we can go to couples therapy just for reassurance. It builds trust, or something.” Spencer shrugs, still looking at the page. “Can I write in this notebook?” 

“Uh, sure,” Ryan says, privately pleased by how Spencer always asks before writing in his notebooks, even though this one is just a random spiral he found in the back of the closet. It’s so old it’s half-filled with high school math homework. He tosses him a pen from the counter, and asks “what are you writing?” 

“This is the opposite of what you want to happen, right?” 

“Right.” 

“So I’m reverse engineering you a birth plan,” he says, casual as can be. “You don’t even have to talk about it, just edit what I do here if you want to, and I’ll handle the doctors for you.” 

“You’re not gonna make me, like, talk through my anxiety?” Ryan confirms, feeling a knot loosening in the pit of his stomach. 

“Amy might,” Spencer replies. “But, no. I don’t think you need that. You’re not scared of me knowing, or at least I don’t think you are, you’re just understandably uncomfortable with a really scary, exposing situation you’re about to be put in, and I think it’s super reasonable that you don’t want to have a detailed conversation about it.” 

Ryan blinks at him for a second, just letting himself sort of soak in the relief and thanks, before saying “come here,” with a little lopsided smile. Spencer does, setting the pen down, and Ryan kisses him on the cheek a couple times, smiling wider when Spencer playfully scrunches up his face in protest. Ryan says “I love you,” against his five-o-clock shadow. 

“I love you too, baby,” Spencer says, finally giving up on not leaning into Ryan. “And,” he adds, pulling back to force Ryan to look at him. “I will be there the whole time.” 

Ryan knows damn well that close to an entire page of that notebook is dedicated to a late-night freakout he had at the idea of Spencer not being there for some reason or another, how he would handle that. He knows Spencer has read it, or at least skimmed it, and he knows it went without saying, anyway, that he needs Spencer for this. 

He doesn’t have to admit to that out loud, though, it’s all on the page, and he’s letting Spencer read it, so he simply says “I know,” and then, pulling away, adds “I’ll go call Amy. If we can get an appointment before my due-date I’ll schedule it.” 

“Sounds good,” Spencer says, mercifully dropping the subject once again, allowing all the details to stay safely contained in ink and not spoken aloud. Ryan is glad for that, it’s neater when it’s written down, everything is, and he has a feeling this whole thing is going to be severely lacking in neatness. 

He swallows hard as he searches his phone for the therapist's number. 

----------

Ryan likes the plan Spencer wrote up for him, although he still cannot bring himself to say anything about it out loud. The only alteration he made was to the “ people allowed in the room ” section, where he simply wrote “ + Ginger ,” before passing the notebook back to Spencer, who simply said “kay,” and walked off to stash the notebook somewhere Ryan wouldn’t have to think about it. 

Ryan thinks about it a lot. 

The fucking thing is, he doesn’t even like doctors appointments when he’s not half-naked and crying, so the fact that he’s about to have to go to a hospital, totally exposed, both emotionally and physically, and allow a bunch of strangers to see him at his most vulnerable, makes him feel profoundly ill. 

Their doctor, at the very least, said their plan looked fine. Both kids are facing down, thank god, so apparently that makes the need for a C-section way less likely, at the very least. 

Ryan is freaking out. 

The thing is, although it sounds childish, he just doesn’t fucking want to do this. He feels like stomping his foot and yelling out to god like a petulant child. I don’t wanna.  

So, fueled by third trimester insomnia and his uncomfortably athletic daughters kicking the shit out of him, he goes down a research hole. He finds himself at the kitchen table on Spencer’s laptop, watching youtube video after youtube video about fucking focus objects and breathing techniques, full of uncomfortably serene sounding women saying some of the most graphic and horrifying sentences he’s ever heard. (Genuinely, how the fuck does someone manage to read out the sentence “you may feel a stong urge to use the bathroom as your baby presses down harder and harder onto your cervix,” in such a calming, pleasant voice, as if it sounds like some wonderful sensation and not uncomfortable as fuck. Well, actually, he supposes these people do it the same way those people in medication ads somehow read out symptoms like “rectal bleeding,” over generic, upbeat music without laughing.) 

“Should I be worried about finding you up at three AM every other day?” Spencer asks, yawning, as he enters the kitchen. Ryan frantically closes the window on the laptop, and Spencer slumps down across from him at the kitchen table. 

“Insomnia is a normal symptom in the third trimester” Ryan recites dutifully, from some pamphlet or website or book he can no longer remember specifically. They all blur together, at a certain point. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks him, folding his arms and resting his head on them to stare up at Ryan. 

Ryan laces his fingers together, elbows on the table, rests his head on his hands, and mumbles “‘m fine.” Then, softer, taking in how sleepy Spencer looks. “You should go back to bed, babe.” 

Spencer just shakes his head, yawning, and says “wanna be here for you.” Ryan has never once won that argument, so he doesn’t try, just rolls his eyes and offers him a lopsided smile. 

Like a horrible, one-two-punch from god, he gets one of those fucked up practice contractions at the exact same time that one of Spencer’s goddamn kids decides to kick him in the lungs. He grunts involuntarily, a weird, breathy noise, and presses his forehead to his hands. Slow breathing, according to every single video he’s just watched, is the key, like with the nausea. 

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, sounding genuinely scared. Ryan feels a twinge of guilt for scaring him, but also, fucking ow . 

“Braxton-Hicks,” Ryan says simply, waiting for it to pass. “Also, your kids are kicking the shit out of me.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a fun combination,” Spencer says sympathetically, as the squeezing feeling eases off. 

“It’s really not,” Ryan says, rubbing his forehead with knitted eyebrows. “You really should go back to sleep, I’m gonna be up for a while.” 

Spencer yawns again, but shakes his head, and says “if you’re sleep deprived I am too. That’s part of the whole having kids deal.” He sits back up straight, stretches, and asks “what’s keeping you up?” 

“Your daughters,” Ryan responds, because duh. 

“Okay, sure, but you also look nervous as hell.” 

Ryan sighs, puts his face in his hands, and says “I really don’t want to talk about it.” Sure, he could talk about all the specifics he’s worried about, he could probably even cry and panic, and Spencer wouldn’t say shit about it other than ‘oh, baby, come here,’ but also the thought of saying the word ‘cervix’ out loud genuinely makes him want to throw up, and he doesn't really have the energy for a panic attack right now. 

He hears Spencer get up, feels him kiss him on top of his head, and looks after him, confused, when he says “be right back.” A minute later Spencer shuffles back out of the bedroom, tosses a notebook and pen in front of him, and makes a vague ‘go ahead,’ gesture as he slumps back down in the chair across from him. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” Ryan asks. Spencer rolls his eyes.

“You know what I want you to do,” he says, not taking Ryan’s shit right now. Damn. “You don’t even have to do it, I guess, cause I’m not gonna read it, so at least humor me.” 

Ryan sighs, and clicks the pen with a meaningful look in Spencer’s direction. 

He writes about nothing, just random thoughts, and it feels better, like the act of not stewing was really what he needed, and he can’t tell if he’s annoyed or thankful that Spencer knew that better than him. Then he gets punched or headbutted or something, and suddenly he really has to pee again, which is just annoying at this point. That used to be cute, but now he is over it.  

“You sure you’re okay?” Spencer asks, lighthearted but concerned all the same. Apparently something showed on his face, then. 

“You ever been punched in the bladder?” 

“Probably,” Spencer says with a shit-eating grin. “By you.” 

“Not my fault you’re bad at dodging,” Ryan replies, smiling back. Spencer kicks him in the foot under the table. “And your daughter is getting even for you now,” Ryan adds. 

“Well, tell them I said to chill the fuck out and let their dad sleep.”

“I will, but, you know, they’re your kids,” Ryan shrugs, standing up to go to the bathroom. “They won’t listen.” 

“We’re fucked.” 

“Completely.” 

Spencer closes the notebook Ryan left on the table without looking at it. 

----------

“Oh, huh,” Ryan says as he pushes himself to a sitting position in bed, staring down at his stomach. “That’s different.” 

“Hm?” Spencer asks, sitting up behind him. Ryan turns around, snorting at his bed-head, and gestures to his stomach. 

“Dropped,” he says. “They’re sitting way lower. I can feel it in my hips.” 

“Oh, shit,” Spencer comments, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Thank fuck,” Ryan says, leaning back on his hands. “I cannot wait to get these kids out.” He stares down at himself for a few more seconds before looking back at Spencer, and says “it looks different, too, right?” 

“I dunno, maybe,” Spencer says. “I don’t exactly make a habit of scrutinizing the shape of your stomach.” 

“Yes you fucking do, don’t lie,” Ryan says, reaching behind himself to playfully flick Spencer in the forehead. He keeps his weight on one arm so he can wrap the other one around his stomach, and says “you’re staring,” with a knowing grin. 

“Because you told me to, asshole,” Spencer replies, flipping him off. Ryan smiles harder. 

“I can breathe a lot easier,” Ryan notes. “They’re not all up in my lungs anymore.” 

“That’s nice,” Spencer grunts out as he stretches his arms above his head, his voice strained from the motion. 

“They’re directly on my bladder again, though,” he adds, shoving himself up from the bed with the help of the nightstand. Once he’s upright he leaves a hand on the nightstand, moving his other to his hip, and says “oh, woah.”  

“Okay?” Spencer asks, moving to stand. 

Ryan nods. “That’s really dropped,” he explains. “Feels like there’s a fucking bowling ball on my hips.” 

“Yikes,” Spencer says sympathetically. “Can I do anything for you?” he asks, walking over to rub his back comfortingly. 

“Uh, yeah, make me some pancakes?” Ryan asks with a placating smile. “I’m gonna take a shower, see if it helps my back.” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Spencer replies, kissing him on the cheek. 

Ryan reaches up to pat him on the side of his face, and says “thanks, princess.” 

Spencer kisses him on the cheek again, mutters “fuck you,” against his face, and Ryan grins after him as he leaves the room.

----------

A week later, Ryan is leaning over the counter, wincing a little, as he tries to breathe through the tightening feeling in his stomach. Fucking braxton-hicks are annoying as shit, seriously, and this is like the fifth one today. He leans both elbows on the counter, groaning a little, in that way he never lets himself when Spencer is here. He’s on a sonic run, at Ryan’s insistence, because at ten PM it’s one of the only places to get ice cream, and they haven’t stopped doing half-price shakes after eight yet. 

The pain picks up after a few seconds, in a way it hasn’t before, moving to his back now, and it’s still not exactly that painful, just sore, and tense, and weird, and real . And Spencer is at the store. And his due date is in two hours, which makes these kids pretty punctual, unfortunately. O ne more day, just one more! And he wouldn’t be going into labor mere hours before the clock strikes midnight and makes it nine fucking eleven. Jesus christ, why does god hate him? 

The contraction ends, and he takes note of the time as he dials Spencer’s number. Fuck fuck fuck pick up right goddamn now, Spencer. The phone rings, and rings, and goes to voicemail. He’d better be driving. 

He texts Spencer a concise contraction. real one. get here. Before navigating back to his contacts, dialing a different number. 

Ginger, unlike her son who Ryan is going to murder if he doesn’t arrive home in the next twenty minutes, (once he’s done hugging him and crying and freaking out, of course,) answers on the third ring. 

“ Hello? ” comes Ginger's voice, gentle and calming as ever, although a little tired sounding. Shit, he hopes she wasn’t sleeping. 

“Hey, um. Hi. It’s Ryan. Sorry if it’s not a good time,” he says awkwardly, suddenly feeling weird about this. He just wants someone on the line right now. He kind of feels like he needs that. 

“ Oh, hi, Ryan! No, I was just watching Grey’s Anatomy” she assures him. He manages a weak smile. “ How are you? How are the girls? ” 

“I’m alright, uh-” he pauses, swallowing, and says “girls want out, though.” 

“ Oh! Now? ” she asks, concerned. 

“Soon, yeah, but not, like soon soon,” he says vaguely. 

“ How far apart are they, honey? ” she asks gently. Ryan moves over to the kitchen table, sitting down at one of the chairs as he rubs his forehead. 

“I don’t know, maybe thirty minutes? Not close,” Ryan says, his hands over his eyes. He bites his lip, and resists the urge to cry, or maybe beg for Spencer’s mom to come hug him and tell him everything is okay, mostly because he knows she’d actually do it, and he doesn’t want to bother her. 

“ Okay, that’s easy, then, you have plenty of time. You might even get to sleep through the night .” 

Ryan sighs, hopefully not audibly, and says “yeah, lots of time,” trying not to make his voice sound too strained. It doesn’t work. 

“ Hey, honey, just breathe for a second ,” she says, and he tries to listen, focusing on his breath. “ Where’s Spencer? ” 

“Sonic,” he says weakly. 

“ Alright, that’s fine. Labor takes absolutely forever. You’ll be fine. He’ll be back soon. ” 

Ryan nods, taking a deep breath again, and says “yeah, I know. Thank you.” He sighs again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called you. I guess i just-” he waves his hand around, even though she can’t see. “Felt like I should tell someone, and Spencer didn’t pick up. I think he’s driving.” 

“ He’d better be, ” she jokes, her voice still soft and soothing. “ Or you have my full permission to yell at him for the next eighteen years for not answering the ‘I’m in labor’ call. ” 

Ryan laughs lightly, and repeats “thanks.” 

“ Of course, honey, ” there’s a pause, and Ryan can practically hear her doing that thing she does where she plays with the hair at the back of her neck when she’s thinking about what to say. “ Do you want to come over? Or for me to come over there ?” 

“Um, no,” he says automatically. He doesn’t need Crystal and Jackie watching his water break in the goddamn living room, thanks, and he doesn’t want to inconvenience her by having her sleep in the guest room just for him to have the vague reassurance that she’s ten feet away instead of a twenty minute drive. “Not yet,” he amends, clearing his throat. “Will you, though? In the morning?” 

“ God, Ryan, of course, ” she answers almost automatically. “ Whenever you want me, I’ll be there. You can even call in the middle of the night if you need to, I’ll turn my ringer up. ” 

“Okay,” Ryan says, breathing slowly as the knot in his stomach loostens. “Thank you.” 

“ Of course. ” 

Ryan is about to try to change the subject, just to keep her on the line, but then Spencer is bursting through the door with a boisterous “honey, I’m home!” and Ryan says “I gotta go, Spence is back. I’ll keep you posted.” 

“ Okay, go on. Love you, honey. ” 

“Love you too.” 

Ryan hangs up, just as Spencer enters the room, setting the drinks down on the counter. “Hey, love, sorry about missing your call earlier, I was already on the way home, and I figured if I’d forgotten something it was too late anyw-” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, and presumably sees his messages at that point, because he interrupts himself by saying “oh, holy fuck!” as he stares down at the screen. After a few seconds of that his head shoots back up to Ryan, who is, admittedly, trying pretty fucking hard not to laugh at the expression on his face right now. 

Spencer rushes over to him, hugs him around the shoulders, pulling his head to his chest while Ryan is still sitting, and says “fuck. Fuck! I’m so sorry. I should have answered.” 

“No, I’m glad you didn’t,” Ryan says, leaning his head harder against Spencer and reaching up to crook a hand over Spencer’s elbow, holding him there. “It wouldn’t have made you go any faster unless you were speeding, so it wouldn’t do anything but scare you.” 

“It might have comforted you, though,” Spencer argues, smoothing his hair down. “Are you okay?” 

“I think so, yeah. I mean, it doesn’t feel good , but they’re far apart, and not, like, excruciating.” 

“Okay,” Spencer says, his hands still moving in his hair. “How are you doing though?” 

 He sighs, pushing his forehead into Spencer’s chest, and quietly says “I thought I was ready for this, you know? I am ready for this, so I shouldn’t be freaking out.” The suddenness of the situation has made it hard for him to put any sort of wall up for Spencer to, inevitably, see through anyway, which is fine, he supposes, for here. He’s not sure how well he’ll handle the public vulnerability of the hospital, but that’s an issue for many hours from now. 

“Ryan, no amount of intellectualizing is going to make you less scared of something that’s just scary .” He moves his hand down to behind Ryan’s ear, scratching soothingly. “It’s like all those labor videos you keep pretending you don’t watch say, ‘don’t try to get away from the pain, try to get through it.’” Ryan doesn’t even argue with that, just nods into Spencer’s chest. He doesn’t really care that Spencer’s apparently going through his youtube history, because it’s not like he isn’t logged in on Spencer’s laptop. He’s not exactly being careful. 

“Oh, okay! ” Ryan says, laughing a bit weakly, before sucking in a breath through his teeth as the contraction hits in earnest. He squeezes Spencer’s arm a little harder. “Okay, yeah, that’s definitely real. That hurts.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” Spencer says, and Ryan thinks he really doesn’t, but he doesn’t manage to say anything to that effect before Spencer is saying “what do you want from me, love?” 

“Don’t fucking move,” he grits out, wrapping his other hand around Spencer’s waist to hug him around the middle. He’s squeezing him hard, he knows, but Spencer acts like he doesn’t mind. Through it , he thinks, through it , as he breathes slowly through his nose. 

When it’s over he asks “what time is it?” 

“Ten thirty two.” 

“They’re thirty minutes apart,” he says simply. “Fuck, that’s closer than I thought.” 

“Hey, that’s good, right?” Spencer says, pulling back. “That means you’re progressing fast, most first time labor takes forever.” 

“No, not good Spencer! Very very not good! I am not giving birth to twins on nine-fucking-eleven ! They’ll never hear the end of it! We’ll never hear the end of it!” 

“Hey, labor takes a long time, it’s not uncommon for it to be well over twenty four hours! So all you need to do is make it, like, twenty six, and we won’t have to call them our little twin towers for the rest of their lives,” Spencer reassures him, but Ryan can hear the mirth in his voice, too.

Ryan laughs, because he can’t fucking help it, and lets go of Spencer to slump over the table, burying his face in his hands. It’s a weird laugh, desperate and scared, but also loud and helpless, because fuck Spener for making him laugh at that right now. He’s trying to be upset about this, goddamnit! 

After he’s calmed down he tilts his head back, sighs at the ceiling, and says “Spencer, I’m scared.” 

“I know, honey.” 

“I really don’t want to do this.” 

“I know you don’t, I don’t think almost anyone does,” Spencer says, reaching up to pet his hair again. Ryan closes his eyes. “I’ll be right here, okay? I am right here. You can do this.” 

“We can do this,” he corrects. Then, to break the tension, because the sincerity of it all has suddenly become suffocating, Ryan says “bring me that milkshake before it melts.” 

Spencer snorts, and kisses him on the forehead as he walks away to do as he was told. So quick to do what he says… Ryan will maybe miss that part. 

----------

Ryan manages, miraculously, to get some sleep that night. He’s actually not sure how well Spencer manages to rest, because, despite his insistence of trying to remain calm, Ryan can tell he’s freaking out. 

At around six AM, though, he’s fully woken up by a contraction, and in his half-awake state he doesn’t manage to suppress a disoriented, pained groan. He presses his face further into the pillows next to Spencer’s shoulder, fisting his hands in the sheets as he scrunches his face up in pain, and, after a second, he hears stirring from beside him. 

“Ryan?” Spencer asks sleepily, his voice all rough and weird. Ryan just reaches out to paw at his arm clumsily until Spencer takes the hint and grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says in a low voice, clearing his throat when it comes out sounding strangled and weird. “Breathe, baby, it’s okay,” he repeats, trying to be reassuring, but this fucking hurts and he is breathing, damnit , and all Ryan can really hear is his internal monologue saying ow ow ow ow ow. He knows Spencer is still talking, but he can’t focus on it, and it’s too early for this shit. 

“Shut up,” he says weakly, although it comes out more aggressive than he intended it due to how hard he’s clenching his jaw. “Ow, fuck .” Spencer shuts up, the contraction eases off, and Ryan sighs hard. He doesn’t move his face from the pillows, but he does say “sorry, that was kind of mean.” 

Spencer snorts, and says “hey, it’s fine. You’re in labor with my kids, you can be as mean as you want.” 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ryan protests. “It was just hard to focus, and I’m tired, and… yeah, but I’m not mad at you. Even now.” 

“You can be mad,” Spencer assures him, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb, now. “I get it, it’s not fair that you have to deal with this and I just get to sit around and watch.” 

“You’re gonna do a lot more than watch, trust me,” Ryan says, trying to find it in him to toss back a joke, but finding himself saying “I need you,” instead. 

“I know, sugar, I got you,” Spencer says, shuffling closer until his face is buried in Ryan's chest. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he assures him, but his voice has an edge to it that tells Ryan he’s talking to himself. Ryan pets his hair a little, lets him calm himself down for a few minutes, and then Spencer, once he’s breathing a lot slower, asks “you want to try to go back to sleep?” 

“Yeah, no. That hurts way worse than it did last night, I’m not getting back to sleep.” Ryan pushes himself up a bit, finally letting go of Spencer so he can heave himself into a seated position, and says “you can sleep some more, though. Don’t let me stop you.” 

Spencer laughs at him, actually fucking laughs, and says “absolutely not. I’m not a complete asshole, Ryan, I’m coming with you.” After a second, though, he adds “unless you don’t want me to, because I can also leave you alone, if you need, or not touch you, or-” 

“Spence,” Ryan cuts him off, smiling fondly. “I want you,” he says simply. It’s one of the only real, coherent thoughts he’s had since he realized he was in labor. He just wants Spencer. 

“Good, because I don’t want to go anywhere,” Spencer tells him, sitting up fully to drop a clumsy, sloppy kiss to his cheek. Ryan pretends to be annoyed as he wipes his face on a sleeve, but can’t help but laugh when Spencer adds “except for the next three minutes, because I have to pee.” 

“Hey, that’s my line,” Ryan jokes. Spencer grins at him as he leaves the room. 

Spencer makes them both breakfast. It’s just toast, because Ryan isn’t super sure he’ll be able to keep much down, but he’s sure he’s going to need to eat something because he’s heard they won’t let you eat once you get to the hospital. Ryan watches him spread jam and butter on their toast silently, draping his arms over his shoulders to hug his chest and hooking his chin just above his collar bone. 

When his entire midsection squeezes the shit out of him again he does the same thing to Spencer, in retaliation, or something. Jesus christ, is that back labor? That hurts like a bitch . He makes some sort of pained noise, high in his throat, and Spencer asks “contraction?” 

Ryan nods, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s shoulder and whining a little. He feels like a dumbass for doing it, because this isn’t even that bad yet, but it’s jarring how different this feels from last night, and it hurts… and he kind of just wants his mom. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“No, Spencer, I’m squeezing the shit out of you right now because I want you to leave,” Ryan says, sarcastically, and through gritted teeth which makes it come off more aggressive than he intended again. It sort of makes him feel reassured when he feels Spencer laugh from where he’s holding him, like something is normal. Spencer reaches up, maybe a little tentatively, to Scratch through his tangled mess of hair, and Ryan tries to focus on that and actually breathing as he waits for it to pass. 

The first thing he says after it ends is “fuck, that hurts,” and Spencer laughs again, not moving his hand from his hair. “Sorry I keep being an asshole. You’re doing really good,” he assures him, kissing Spencer on the shoulder a few times, as a thanks or an apology, he doesn’t know. 

“If you weren’t being an asshole I’d be worried, sugar,” Spencer deadpans, going back to making their food. “You’re kind of a dick.” 

“Fuck you, I’m having your fucking babies,” Ryan scoffs. 

“Yeah, and? You’re still my Ryan, and my Ryan loves bitching.” 

That actually makes him feel significantly more settled. You’re still my Ryan. He’ll be damned if he turns a bitchfight into something sappy, though, he has a reputation to uphold, after all, so he says “I’ll bitch at you all I like, this hurts and it’s your goddamn fault.” 

Spencer just hums, reaching up to pat him on the cheek fondly, and says “that’s my boy,” in an overly-pleasant tone. 

Ryan licks the back of his neck in retaliation, grinning when Spencer glares at him as he turns around to hand him a plate of toast, wiping his neck aggressively. 

----------

So, labor takes fucking forever. Ryan spends the next five hours of his life going back and forth between watching television and groaning into Spencer’s neck on the couch every fifteen minutes, trying to pay attention to the Terminator movie marathon they found on cable. It’s actually pretty funny, all things considered, to be trying to calmly breathe through contractions while Arnold Schwarzenegger chases after a semi truck on a motorcycle. It's sufficiently distracting, at least. Ryan likes these movies, as much as he won’t admit that to anyone but Spencer. 

“That one was ten minutes,” Spencer informs him in the middle of Terminator Three. Ryan doesn’t move his face from his neck this time, and Spencer keeps petting his hair. “You want anything? Ice? People want ice in labor, right?” 

“I think that’s for when you’re already at the hospital and they won’t let you eat,” he mumbles into his shoulder. “I should have some lunch before that, though. Because they won’t give you anything in the hospital in case you need a C-section.” 

“What can I get you?” 

“Kraft mac n cheese,” Ryan answers immediately. Comfort comfort comfort, that’s all he wants right now, just comfort. It fucking hurts, and while he is actually surprised at how calm he is in general, he also knows that calm is tenuous at best, and he’ll need to work to maintain it. So, yeah. Comfort food. 

“Okay,” Spencer says, kissing him on the head as he stands. “Call me back in if you have a contraction, okay?” 

“I can handle one contraction on my own, Spence,” he protests, feeling like he’s trying to convince himself. He turns back to the TV as Spencer leaves the room. 

“Yeah, I know that. You could do this entire thing alone if you had to, but you don’t, so call me. Okay?” 

Ryan swallows, nods as he watches a terminator crash a crane through a building on the TV, and says “okay.” 

It only takes eight minutes for him to have another contraction, which Ryan should definitely be more pleased about than he is. As it stands, it’s eleven AM, on Nine-Fucking-Eleven, and Ryan really, really does not want to have a ‘fast first-time labor,’ right now. He calls Spencer in, a little reluctantly, and lets him rub his back and mutter comforting bullshit into his hair. 

“You know what else those stupid fucking labor videos talk about all the time?” Ryan asks once it’s over, his voice still muffled against Spencer’s chest. 

“What?” 

“Focus objects. Like, a single thing you can pay attention to while you’re having a contraction.” 

“You want to do that?” Spencer asks him gently. “I can get you whatever you need.” 

“No, I have you,” Ryan says simply. He presses his nose into Spencer’s T-shirt one more time, taking in the scent of laundry detergent and home . Spencer’s breath stutters a bit, and Ryan, to cut the tension, says “your water’s boiling.” 

“Shit.” 

----------

Ryan paces a lot. It’s sort of instinctual, which he’s heard is common. It doesn’t feel good to labor laying down on your back, although, any amount of laying on his back sucks anyway recently, due to the pressure on his lungs, and walking apparently helps you progress. He doesn’t really think he wants to progress very fast, because he’s still vaguely hoping that these kids won’t actually be born today, but, also, this fucking hurts and he wants to meet his kids, so in a lot of ways he wouldn’t mind if it was over faster. He’s conflicted. 

Anyway, walking helps, he thinks, and it feels right, so he does it. 

Spencer watches him like he’s going to collapse any second, which, to be fair, he sort of is. He can’t entirely support his own weight through contractions anymore, needing to find the nearest wall, chair, or counter to brace himself against every time he feels the vice grip closing in. 

At some point, he winds up kneeling in front of the couch, breathing very deliberately into his folded arms, as Spencer pets his hair slowly. It’s not a particularly dignified position, but it’s a nice medium between standing and sitting, and he’ll stay there as long as his knees let him, frankly. 

“Do you want anything?” Spencer asks softly, just as Ryan is whining pitifully into the couch. 

Ryan is in pain, and pain makes him honest, which is why he doesn’t think at all before saying “mom,” as he curls his fingers into his own arms, barely registering the scraping feeling as his fingernails dig in. “Your mom.” 

Spencer worms a hand under his, loosening his hold on his own arms, and laces their fingers together, letting Ryan squeeze the absolute shit out of his hand instead. He says “okay, I’ll call her once this one’s done, just focus on me right now,” and Ryan nods, because that’s just about the best he can manage. 

Ryan turns his head to the side as it ends, looking up at Spencer, feeling like a dog at his feet, and says “this is so fucking embarrassing.” 

Spencer just shrugs, plops himself down on the floor next to him unceremoniously, and says “this is not even close to the most embarrassing thing either of us have done in front of each other.” 

“I think I might just manage to make the top five by the end of this, maybe even top three. I mean, we’re not even at the hospital yet, and I’m already groaning on the goddamn floor crying for mommy.” 

“Top five…” Spencer muses, shuffling around on the carpet until he’s basically sitting in the same position, his cheek getting smushed against his arm as he turns to the side to look at Ryan. “okay, number one, for me, is when you were fingering me for so long I basically pissed myself due to forgetting to go to the bathroom for twelve hours, and then you asked me if it was a kink thing while we threw towels on the bed, which you were super gracious about, by the way, but I swear to god I have never blushed that hard in my life. I felt like my face was on fire as I explained to you that, no, I just pissed the fucking bed durring sex. If you beat that I’ll be truly impressed.” 

“Oh my god,” Ryan laughs, unable to help himself. “I almost forgot about that.” 

Spencer, dead serious, says “I wish, every day, that I could forget about that. I pray for it.” Ryan grins at him, Spencer grins back, despite his insistence that he’s mortified, and says “I’m gonna call my mom.” 

Ryan bites his lip, averts his gaze, says “okay,” and Spencer kisses him on the forehead as he heaves himself up, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

----------

Ginger gets there somewhere around thirty minutes later, knocking politely on the door before simply walking inside. Ryan is lying on his side on the couch, now, his head in Spencer’s lap, two throw pillows between his knees, and his fingers laced between Spencer’s on his hip. Spencer doesn’t stop moving his hand in his hair as he calls out “in the living room!” and Ryan, with some vague sense of embarrassment, tosses the blanket from the back of the couch over himself, hoping desperately that it will make him feel less vulnerable, as if he’s hiding from the monsters under the bed. 

Ginger says “hi, honey,” as she enters the living room, in the same, sympathetic tone she used to use to ask ‘what happened?’ when he would walk in the door, sniffling, with a skinned elbow or knee. It should feel patronizing. It doesn’t. “How are you doing?” 

“Bad,” he says flatly. 

“Oh, love,” she says, lowering herself to the ground in front of Ryan as if to put a bandaid on his eight-year-old knee as he sits on the toilet lid, clumsily wiping his eyes on the backs of his hands. She titles her head to the side so they can look eye-to-eye, touches his shoulder gently, and says “it’s okay.” 

Ryan wants to respond with something more intelligent, but only manages to say “oh my god, ow!” as he presses his face harder against Spencer’s thigh, squeezing his hand again. 

“Can I give you advice, or do you want me to let you work through it?” she asks softly. Ryan just nods, continuing to tense all the muscles in his face, and Ginger says “okay, can you give me your hand?” Ryan works his bottom arm out from under his chin, offering it to her palm-up, and she takes it in both of hers, pressing his hand out flat between her own. “Relax your hands for me,” she says, rubbing up the inside of his arm. “And your jaw,” she adds, after he manages the hand thing. “There you go,” she says in that same, soothing tone. “What are you focusing on, love?” 

“Spence,” he answers, weak and breathless. 

“Okay,” she says, her voice hitching just a little tiny bit. Ryan thinks that’s probably pride, but he can’t tell. He’s a little distracted. “Focus on him, honey, you’re doing perfect.” 

Spencer is solid behind him, under his head, on his hip, in his hair. His hands are strong, but gentle, and he’s warm. He’s always, always warm. His hand is just as soothing in the hair on the back of his head as it was an hour ago, a decade ago, and Ryan focuses hard, on his jaw and his hands and Spencer. And it seems to him that that one was over quicker than the last, even though that’s the opposite of how this tends to work. 

As soon as he opens his eyes he finds Ginger still smiling at him sympathetically, rubbing his arm in a firm, steady motion. She asks “when was the last time you had any water, love?” 

“A while,” he admits. 

“Okay, tell you what, if you think you can sit up for me I’ll grab you a glass of water, and then we can all find something to watch on TV, sound good?” Ryan nods, and Ginger pushes some hair back from his forehead, smiling sympathetically. She presses her palm to his forehead as well, and notes “you feel hot, love, do you want ice?” 

“The fridge makes ice chips,” Spencer volunteers from above him. He scratches through the hairs at the nape of his neck, and Ryan hums pleasantly. 

“Drink a glass of water for me, honey, and then you can crunch some ice chips.” 

Ryan nods again, she leaves, and, reluctantly, he lets Spencer push him to an upright position. 

“You alright?” Spencer asks, sort of redundantly. Ryan glares at him, because, like, does he look fucking alright? “Sorry, stupid question,” Spencer amends, and Ryan manages to crack a bit of a smile, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I’m okay,” Ryan assures him. “Are you okay?” 

“I mean, I’m not the one in labor, so yeah,” Spencer jokes, deflecting. Ryan knows that trick, though, he may not have invented it, but he’s perfected it, so he can see right through it. 

Ginger walks back in the room, holding two glasses, and Ryan takes them both from her as he nudges Spencer in the foot, and says “you’re freaking out, go hug your mom.” 

“I’m not freaking out,” Spencer assures him, looking caught. Ryan rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, fine, we’re about to be parents. Go hug your mom,” Ryan tries, kicking him harder. This time, Spencer complies. 

Spencer doesn’t actually say anything about it, but Ryan can tell just from the tension in his shoulders how bad he needed that. His mom rubs his back, says something Ryan can’t hear in his ear, he nods, and Ryan tries not to look too self satisfied as he dutifully drinks his water. 

“Better?” Ryan asks, as Spencer pulls away. He nods, wiping his eyes extremely conspicuously, and Ryan is feeling nice, weirdly, so he doesn’t point it out. 

“What do you want to do?” Spencer asks, moving away entirely to let his mom take a seat on the couch. 

“Watch TV, I guess,” Ryan shrugs. “Not much else to do.” 

“Not much else to do,” Ginger agrees, settling back. 

Spencer pulls him back down until he’s laying on a pillow, sideways across his lap. Ryan curls up, sighing, and Spencer runs his fingers through his hair again, brushing it back from his face. 

Ginger says “you can put your legs on my lap, hon,” with a pat to his shin. 

“Thanks,” he says, gently setting his feet across her lap. She rubs his shin a few times, and then hands him a couple pillows. 

“Here,” she says. “For between your knees. Helps to keep your hips open.” 

“I know,” Ryan says, reluctantly taking them. It feels weird, but she’s been through this before, and she’s going to see a lot worse, so he just says “thanks,” and puts them back between his legs. 

“Try to sleep, love,” she adds, tossing a blanket over him. “You’ll need it.” 

Ryan nods, closes his eyes, and lets himself drift. 

----------

Sleeping proves to be a fairly fruitless endeavor, because he’s too worried, and the contractions are too strong, but he does manage to relax for a while, at least. 

“I want a shower,” Ryan says after a particularly bad one, shoving himself off the couch before Spencer can offer to help. “I feel gross.” 

“Oh,” Spencer replies, somewhat nervously. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Not really,” Ryan throws back, shuffling out of the room. “I really don’t think we’re both gonna fit comfortably, babe,” he jokes, gesturing to himself. 

Spencer says “okay,” but he scratches at his cheek, which is his absolute worst nervous tell, and Ryan tilts his head at him, looking him right in the eyes, trapping him there with his gaze so he can figure out what he’s thinking. Oh. 

“Spence, do you need to come with me?” 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need to, and if you want to be alone I’ll be fine, really. It’s whatever you want,” Spencer says, staring back, but with the distinct look of a lost puppy. 

Ryan, fondly, rolls his eyes, and says “come on, princess, you can sit on the toilet lid and tell me a story, or something,” with a head nod towards the bathroom. “Ginger, feel free to help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, watch something on TV, I don’t know, just make yourself at home.” 

“Alright, boys, shout if you need anything,” Ginger tells them warmly, leaning over to grab the remote from the coffee table. 

As Spencer reaches Ryan’s spot in the hallway, looking guilty for being freaked out, still, Ryan grabs him, pulls him down by the back of his neck to kiss is forehead, and then fucks with his hair as he shoves him down the hall towards the bathroom. 

“Make yourself useful, baby, and grab me some clothes?” Ryan asks as he reaches the bathroom, leaning heavily on the doorframe. His hips are fucking killing him, Christ. He’s really hoping the shower is going to help with that. 

Spencer rolls his eyes, and says “yeah, fine, I’ll bring you some old sweats in case you get, like, fluids on them.” 

“You are really not helping to create the whole ‘magical experience’ atmosphere, here,” Ryan snarks, tapping at the side of Spencer’s leg with his foot. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to get you essential oils for your bath while we wait for Hayleigh and Brayliegh to arrive?” Spencer snarks back. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Ryan laughs. “Just grab me the goddamn sweatpants.” Spencer saunters off, grinning and Ryan calls out “if you write that on their birth certificates we’re getting a divorce!” 

He strips quickly, getting in the shower just before Spencer enters the room, and sighs as the water washes over his back. 

Contractions feel way fucking better in the shower, it turns out. Spencer seems kind of freaked out by the distance, and Ryan knows he doesn’t like the fact that he just has to listen to him groaning in pain and can’t do anything about it. He focuses on his hands, though, and the shower on his back, and Spencer, behind the curtain, talking him through it. 

“Where did your mom learn that hand thing?” Ryan asks once he can focus on talking again. “That works really fucking good.” 

“I’m pretty sure she hired a birth coach, or something, for the twins, I don’t know, some lady who used to come around the house and say a bunch of shit I tried really hard not to listen to,” Spencer sighs, and there’s a creaking noise as he adjusts himself on the toilet lid. “Really wish I had paid more attention now, but, ya know, I wasn’t really thinking this far ahead.” 

Ryan chuckles at him, and says “it’s fine, we have YouTube.” After a pause, during which Ryan manages to wash the last of the Shampoo out of his hair, since he had to abandon that task before in order to groan and press his forehead to the wall, he asks “how far apart are they now?” because he knows damn well that Spencer is timing. 

“Seven minutes, maybe a little under,”  Spencer replies just like Ryan thought he would. 

“Shit, that’s closer than I thought,” Ryan sighs, biting his lip. 

“Are they strong?” 

“I don’t even know what that means, Spencer I’ve never done this before,” Ryan says, laughing kind of wetly. Shit, when did he get choked up? “They hurt, a lot, but I’m not yelling, so I guess it’s fine?” He swallows, trying to steady himself as he blinks at the wall, and says “All I really know is that they’re not close enough for the hospital yet, so-“ 

“So you need to stay as comfortable as possible until they are,” Spencer finishes for him, gently. “Is the shower helping?” 

“I think so,” Ryan replies, swiping a hand down his face. 

“Anything you need from me?” Spencer asks, and Ryan blinks at the wall some more. He isn’t actually sure why he’s worried about his pride or dignity with Spencer, who, as mentioned previously, has bore witness to more than half of the most embarrassing things that have ever happened to Ryan. 

This is going to get harder, more embarrassing, less dignified, and if he can’t make himself trust Spencer completely here, then what the fuck has this all been for? 

“Get in here,” Ryan commands, unable to make his voice come out sounding anything but soft. A few minutes later he’s face to face with Spencer, stark naked, in the cramped space of their shower, and it just sort of… clicks. It’s Spencer. As scared as both of them might be, he can trust him with this, all he really has to do is trust him. 

He reaches forward, grabs Spencer around the waist, and crushes his face to his shoulder, almost knocking the both of them off balance. It’s damp, and warm, like all contact is in the shower. It feels like bodies, just bodies, lost in the complete intimacy of clammy skin. Too real. 

Sounds poetic when you put it like that, but reality is a lot more mundane, as it always is. 

Spencer asks “what do you need?” 

Ryan replies “conditioner.” 

Spencer has just started working it into his hair when another contraction hits him, and he tries to relax into it instead of tensing up, trusting Spencer to hold his weight. Spencer pauses briefly when he realizes what’s happening, but Ryan just shakes his head, squeezes his waist encouragingly, and says “keep going,” before resuming his slow breathing through his nose. He Spreads his palms out flat over Spencer’s back, feeling how he’s breathing in time with him, and some primal, instinctual part of him is suddenly one-hundred-percent sure they can do this. 

----------

Ryan gets out of the shower after the urge to get on the floor is getting too strong for him to resist for much longer, because he is not kneeling in the fucking shower, not with this much extra pressure on his knees, that hurts enough when he’s not pregnant, thanks. So, when they reach five minutes apart, he’s back on the couch, his forehead pressed to his arms where they’re folded over the back, letting Spencer pet his hair and make comforting noises through every contraction. Ginger, for her part, mostly sits next to them and acts unphased, which is actually exactly what he needs from her. This is scary, and weird, but she’s not acting like it is, and she’d know if something was actually concerning. She’s done this before. 

“Five minutes,” Spencer points out. Ryan just nods, feeling his stomach twist. “Should I call the hospital?” 

“We’re supposed to wait until they’ve been five minutes apart for an hour, but I guess. Might as well have them ready for us.”

“Smart,” Spencer tells him, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he kisses his shoulder. He stands up with a simple “be right back,” and Ryan nods, curling further into the couch. 

He sighs once before turning his head to the other side to look at Spencer’s mom, resting the side of his face on his arms. 

She smiles at him sympathetically, brushes some hair out of his face, and asks “you need anything from me, hon?” 

Ryan shakes his head, mumbles “just this,” and Ginger keeps stroking through his hair gently. “Thank you, by the way, for being here. You really didn’t have to.” 

“I’m glad to be here,” she says softly. “My mom did the same thing for me. It’s just one of those things where you want someone who’s done it before.” 

“I wanted my mom,” Ryan says, nodding in agreement. “In the abstract sense, I guess. I just wanted- I’m glad you came.” 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” she replies, shrugging. “Although, I am gonna have to call the girls in a second and update them.” 

“Do they want to come to the hospital?” 

“I think so, yeah, if you’re okay with that,” she says. “They don’t have to come in unless you want, but they’re excited. I think they want to be the first ones to see them.” 

“Your twin girls meeting mine,” he says, smiling. “Can’t wait,” he tells her, closing his eyes. “And not just because this hurts a lot.” 

Ginger laughs, rubbing his shoulders, and says “I’ll call them when Spencer’s back.” 

“You could call them now,” Ryan tells her, shrugging. “I’ll be fine on my own for a few minutes.” 

“Yeah, absolutely not,” she replies. Ryan opens his eyes again, and she says “I am not leaving you alone.” 

She’s said that to him a lot of times, in a lot of hospitals, when he was in a different kind of pain. She sat with him for hours after he dropped his dad off at a detox unit, while he waited for news. Spencer had still been at school, that time, but Ryan had graduated. He hadn’t known why he’d called her at the time, and it’s been so long now that he probably wouldn’t remember if he had, but he called her, and she came. She sat by his side silently as he stared forward at the wall, tapping his foot, his jaw set tight. 

He remembers telling her, bitterly, “I don’t know why the fuck I’m still surprised.” 

“It means you’re still hoping,” she’d said after a few more seconds of silence. 

He said “I think I should maybe stop,” and she rubbed his shoulder. He bit his lip. 

He remembers telling her “you can leave,” as he was handed a stack of paperwork. Standard questions. He wondered how many people had to have their parent’s social security numbers memorized, or put themselves down as their emergency contacts. Not many, he wagered, at nineteen. “I’ll be here a while.” 

“I’m not leaving you alone in a hospital, Ryan,” she’d said firmly. “And I’m gonna take you home and feed you when we’re done here, so hurry up, because I’m hungry.” 

One thing Ryan knows about Ginger, the thing that makes him want her there just as bad as Spencer, was that she would never, ever, leave him alone in a hospital. 

“Hospital’s ready for us,” Spencer says as he comes back in. He sits back down on Ryan’s other side, and adds “they say we can come in whenever we’re ready.” 

“Go make your call,” Ryan tells Ginger. 

“Okay,” she agrees, ruffling both their hair as she stands. “I’ll be right back.” 

As soon as she’s left Ryan shuffles around, still on his knees, to face Spencer completely, who he finds in the same position, kneeling and facing him. Spencer puts a hand on his neck, sliding it forward into his hair to pull him forward. He kisses him, soft and slow, comforting. Ryan sighs into it, pressing forward and resting his hands on Spencer’s thighs. 

He pulls back, just to look at Spencer for a second, and then tilts forward as his middle squeezes again, shoving his face into his neck. It builds, and builds, and he groans on an exhale, really groans, his fingers digging into Spencer’s thighs. He’s been pretty quiet before this, but it’s getting worse, a lot worse, and it hurts. He can’t be quiet anymore, can’t keep himself together. It really hurts. 

As soon as it’s over, he finds himself sobbing, pushing his face to Spencer’s chest, and just crying, just letting go of it. The composure is gone, and it’s not coming back. He has to accept that. 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer shushes, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Shhh, I got you.” 

Ryan shakes his head, gasping, and says “I have to do this, I have to-” He takes a shuddering breath, lets a couple sobs out, and says “I have to give up, on my composure, on-” A few more breaths. “It hurts, Spencer. I’m fucking scared.”  

“It’s okay,” Spencer says, pressing his nose to his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here. Whatever you need.” Ryan sobs into his chest harder, and Spencer says “that’s it, there you go. Go ahead.” 

“I need you,” Ryan gasps. “I can’t- I need you to-” 

“I’m right here, love, I’m here,” Spencer says. He holds Ryan tightly around the shoulders. “I got you.” 

Ryan pulls back, still crying, and presses his forehead to Spencer’s, the bridge of his nose between Ryan’s eyebrows. Spencer rubs up and down his arms, and lets him cry for as long as he needs. Eventually, though, he’s just sniffling, and Spencer grabs his face in his hands, cleaning the tear tracks with his thumbs. He kisses him on the forehead, just breathing against his hairline, content to sit with him forever. Spencer always has been content to sit with him forever. Ryan’s content with that, too. 

Hell, it was in their vows. ‘I can’t wait to hang out and do nothing with you for the rest of our lives.’ 

“I’m so proud of you,” Spencer says. “So fucking proud.” 

“I want to go to the hospital,” Ryan says. “Things are picking up.” 

“Okay,” Spencer tells him. “Then we’ll go to the hospital, and I’ll do all your paperwork, and hold your hand, and we’ll have these kids.” 

“Okay,” Ryan says, followed by “hmmmm, contraction.” 

“That’s alright, you got it,” Spencer assures him. He vaguely registers Ginger coming back in as Spencer is saying “be as loud as you want, Ryan. Go ahead.” Ryan’s humming gets louder and louder, and Spencer says “good, perfect.” 

Once that one’s done Ryan pushes his face back to Spencer’s neck, and says “we’re going to the hospital now,” mostly to Ginger, but also stealing himself for it.

“Okay, honey, are you all packed?” Ginger asks gently, rubbing Ryan’s back again. 

He just nods, and Spencer says “our bags are in the car.” 

“Okay, how about I drive your car there, and you guys can both sit in the back,” she offers. Normally Ryan would love to say something along the lines of ‘it’s only ten minutes to the hospital, I’ll be fine’ but, actually, the thought of not having Spencer pressed against him for ten minutes right now sounds like actual biblical torture, so he nods. Fuck his resolve and dignanty and whatever the fuck else he’s been worried about all this time. This hurts like a fucking bitch, and he’s more terrified than he’s ever been in his entire goddamn life, so yeah, he’ll admit that he needs his husband. He thinks he’s allowed. 

The next thirty minutes are somewhat of a blur, Ryan is pretty much in his own little world, alternating between mmmmm Spencer yes closer closer closer , and oh my fucking god someone is ripping me in half . He’s zero goddamn help getting them checked in, which he mentally tells himself to apologize and thank Spencer for later when he’s not using all his energy on trying not to actually scream into his shoulder. Ryan thinks about that time he broke his leg, and silently wishes to have that level of pain back, because this is genuinely fucking phenomenal. Every time a contraction ends he’s progressively more surprised that he isn’t literally dead. 

Ginger doesn’t stay in the room long once they finally have a bed for him, she tells him and Spencer something about having the girls grab her car from their house, and she and Spencer have a short discussion about whether or not they should come in the room. They turn to Ryan for that part, letting him decide who he does and doesn’t want in there, because they’re goddamn saints . (He is buying the both of them fucking edible arrangements for this, seriously.)

He says “yeah, no. They don’t need to see this,” with a weak laugh, and Ginger laughs goodnaturedly as she leaves the room, already holding the phone to her ear. She mouths ‘love you’ as she closes the door, too, and Ryan can’t help but grin at her, despite everything. 

“Right,” some nurse says from the foot of the bed, and Ryan feels like a caged animal suddenly, realizing what the fuck is actually happening right now. This lady is snapping on a pair of latex gloves, and telling him to move down to the end of the bed, and he really barely remembers getting changed into this fucking hospital gown, but everything suddenly feels very real and… trapped. He’s half fucking naked in a room of strangers and he is about to start panicking. Oh god he’s about to start panicking. It’s really bright in here, and he doesn’t know these people, which is better, in some ways, because at least it’s not personal , but it also kind of feels like he’s not a person suddenly, and he’s really fucking not comfortable with this. 

Spencer’s face comes into view in front of him, blocking out a lot of the bright lights, and he smiles reassuringly, petting his hair again. “Hey, honey, hey,” he says, and his voice is like warm water washing over his back. The only sensation that doesn’t hurt. “It’s okay, just focus here, alright?” 

Ryan nods, then presses his face into Spencer’s neck, sighing. It’s not too hard in the sort of half-seated position the bed keeps him in, and he ignores everything happening to his lower body as best he can. It kind of helps that Spencer isn’t watching, too, truth be told, because it’s fucking embarrassing, and with him it is personal, but he thinks Spencer probably knows exactly what’s happening when some lady’s hand is fucking inside him, because he makes a slightly embarrassing whining noise and clutches harder at Spencer’s shoulders. That fucking hurts, too, jesus, and he tries very, very hard to focus on Spencer against him instead of the stranger who is giving him the most unpleasant fingering of his entire life. 

Spencer reaches a hand up to his arm, and starts tapping. It’s a slow, steady rhythm, and it’s still a tambourine part, which is still cheating, but despite all that, and despite the discomfort, Ryan grins into his neck as he says “everything will be alright.” 

Spencer just says “yep,” as he holds him a little tighter.

Ryan doesn’t pull away when the lady pulls her fingers out, but he does relax just a little, and Spencer says “good job,” in a low voice. Ryan sighs into his neck. This is stupid. He feels stupid. 

“Alright, honey, you’re at six centimeters,” the nurse says, and they both turn around to stare at her then. 

“Six?” Ryan says, his voice an octave higher than normal. Fuck, he was going to guess four. 

“Yup,” she says pleasantly. “You’re more than halfway done, doing really great, but we’re just going to go in and break your water for you, alright?” 

“Is that safe? And necessary?” Spencer asks immediately, but he also resumes petting Ryan’s hair, and Ryan decides to just let him fucking handle this shit. He’s probably going to be better at asking the right questions at this point. 

“It’s totally safe, and not completely necessary, but it will help move things along. It’ll probably break on its own soon, anyway, so we can wait if you’d prefer,” she explains, looking at Ryan with raised eyebrows. 

He sighs, covers his face with both hands, and says “whatever, just do it.” Spencer keeps petting his hair, and he tries his damn best to ignore whatever the fuck the nurse is explaining to him, because, frankly, he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t really care. There’s more weird shit happening to his lower body, and then a weird release of pressure, and he kind of grunts, because that felt fucking strange. 

He takes his hands away from his eyes when the nurse says “okay, we’re going to back off now, but let us know if you need absolutely anything, especially if you feel like you need to push, okay?” Ryan sort of grunts in agreement, nodding, and closes his eyes again. It is really fucking bright in here. “Can I get you guys anything else?” the nurse asks, and Ryan thinks he kind of likes this lady, actually. She’s nice, but not patronizingly so. 

“Can it be darker in here?” he asks, still not opening his eyes. The florescants always give him a headache. 

“Oh, yeah, absolutely!” she says, dimming the lights quickly. “Anything else?” 

Ryan shakes his head, Spencer says “nah, we’re good,” and she nods before fading into the background a bit, clearly doing something as she walks around the room. 

Ryan rolls onto his side, towards Spencer, and stares up at him kind of desperately. He reaches out for his hand, knowing he’s due for another contraction, and Spencer takes it firmly. He grabs on with both hands as the pain picks up again, and Spencer uses his free hand to pet his hair, pressing his nose right against his hairline. Ryan groans low in his chest, and Spencer says “good, just like that,” against his forehead. “Shhhh, you’re doing so good.” 

Ryan is on the verge of tears at this point, and he knows Spencer can tell, because by the time it’s over he’s breathing weird, swallowing thickly, and Spencer asks “are you sure you don’t want an epidural?” 

“I’m sure,” he says weakly. He is, too. He hates fucking needles, and he hates all the monitoring and intervention that would come with that. He can do this on his own, he can. If he’s in transition now that means this is about as bad as it’s going to get, and he’s not dead yet, so he can do this. He does, however, choke out “I want mom,” cutting off the end of the word on a sob, and that seems to kick Spencer back into high gear. 

“Okay, okay,” he says gently, removing the hand from Ryan’s hair to reach behind him for his phone. “I’ll call her and get her back in here, okay?” 

Before he can call, though, there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse is popping her head in with a quick “grandma wants to come back in, is that fine?” 

Ryan really likes this lady. He loves how she asked, even though his answer is an immediate and emphatic “yes.” 

She nods, and then the door opens wider, and Ginger is walking back in the room with a gentle “hey, boys, how are we doing?” 

“Six centimeters,” Ryan says simply. “It really, really hurts.” 

“Wow, you’re calm for six centimeters,” she says, still sounding soothing, as she sits down next to her son on the bed. “I was screaming for an epidural at that point.” 

“That’s what the nurse said,” Spencer comments, and Ryan doesn’t remember that, but whatever. He wouldn’t mind if he forgot half of this shit by tomorrow. This part isn’t exactly a memory he’s expecting to cherish. 

“Do you want anything, love?” Ginger asks gently, and Ryan sighs. He pulls Spencer closer, by the hand he’s still holding, until he gets the idea and lays down next to him, tucking Ryan’s head under his chin and petting his hair. 

“Can you just talk to me?” he asks quietly. 

“Of course,” she answers immediately, and he can feel her shifting on the bed. “What do you want to hear about?” 

“Anything,” he says. “Just talk.” 

“Okay,” she says, pausing to think, and then “I knew you two would get married when you were nineteen and twenty.” Ryan can’t see her, but he can practically imagine her smile. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as another contraction picks up, but he breathes out “keep going,” as he squeezes Spencer’s hand, hoping to focus on his hands and her voice. 

“Thanksgiving,” she says gently. “That year, when I had to go out to borrow some salt from a friend last minute, and I left you two alone to do the cranberry sauce while I was gone. I came back to find you two grinning at each other from across the room, matching streaks of cranberry sauce smeared across your faces. You gave Spencer the middle finger, and he kissed you, and I thought, ‘yeah, that’s what forever looks like.’” 

As the contraction ends, Ryan notices the warm feeling in his chest is spreading, and he finds himself smiling into Spencer’s chest, despite everything. He reaches one hand out to her, and she takes it with both of her own, squeezing gently and rubbing his arm. 

He says “I love you,” in a voice that sounds a lot more steady than it did a few minutes ago, and she responds immediately with “I love you too. So much.” 

----------

Ryan has no idea how long they stay like that, Spencer’s mom talking in a low voice while he tries not to whine too loud, but after a while he’s not aware of much of anything. He knows he’s supposed to be doing breathing techniques and humming or some shit, but it fucking hurts so bad and he just can’t . 

“Oh my god, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he chants through gritted teeth. He kind of has the urge to bite down on Spencer’s shoulder and never let go, but the last shreds of his self control keep him from acting on that. Barely.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay, just breathe-” 

“Spencer, if you do not shut the fuck up I’m taking you to the vet and getting you neutered ,” Ryan grits out, squeezing Spencer hard. Spencer does shut up, but his mom is clearly muffling a laugh from her seat next to them on the bed. That’s fine, she’s allowed. 

As he comes out of it he finds Spencer kissing him on the forehead, despite the fact that he knows he’s sweating bullets now, and he loosens  his grip around Spencer’s middle, but doesn’t move away. He’s kind of nauseous, though, and he doesn't think laying on his side is helping, so he mutters “I gotta get up,” against Spencer. 

Spencer, very graciously, helps him get to a sitting position, shoving a couple pillows behind him for some support as he crosses his legs underneath himself. He tries to focus on breathing until the next contraction, hoping that he’ll be able to swallow down the nausea. As soon as the next one hits, though, he pitches forward, bracing his hand in front of him on the sheets and shaking his head as he tries desperately to do the nose breathing trick. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says softly, rubbing his lower back, which would feel kind of nice, actually, if he wasn’t about to spill his guts and also, possibly, keel over and die. 

Ryan shakes his head again, flailing his hand at Spencer a bit, and says “I'm gonna throw up.” 

Soon, there’s a bucket in front of him, and he doesn’t know anything about the details of how it got there, but Spencer is saying “okay, it’s okay, here you go,” and he can feel tears already on his face as he throws up through the peak of his contraction, which absolutely sucks. The combination of his entire abdomen and his actual stomach squeezing is absolute agony, and he knows he’s genuinely sobbing by the end of it, slumping heavily onto Spencer as he wipes his mouth with a damp towel that is somehow in his hand. 

“I got you, it’s okay,” Spencer mutters into his hair. 

Ryan, still sniffling, manages a sort of pitiful laugh, and says “this is definitely in the top five.” 

“Not even close,” Spencer counters, kissing him on the head. “I’m so proud of you.” Spencer hauls him closer, breathing a little too fast into his hair to keep up the illusion that he’s not shaken up right now, and murmurs “oh, honey, you’re shaking.” 

“That’ll be the adrenaline,” a nurse says gently. Ryan forgot they were here. That probably explains the puke bucket and damp towel. “Totally normal, you’re probably in transition.” 

“You need anything?” Spencer asks into his hair. 

“I need you for a minute,” Ryan says, pressing his nose to Spencer’s collar. “Need to focus again, need you.” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“Talk,” Ryan requests. (More like demands.) “Help me focus… and rub my back.” 

“Counterpressure?” Spencer clarifies, already moving his hand to Ryan’s lower back. Ryan nods, groaning appreciatively when Spencer presses hard against the back of his hips. 

“Good noise,” he assures Spencer, reflexively tensing as another contraction starts building. 

“Relax,” Spencer reminds him in a low voice, easily taking more of Ryan’s weight as it’s pressed into him. “Relax your hands, and your jaw,” he continues, still firmly rubbing at his back. “Good job, just like that. Focus here, love, breathe with me.” Spencer takes a huge breath in, holding it until Ryan manages to do the same, and that really does help a lot, having him to focus on. 

“I need you,” Ryan repeats as soon as it’s over, trying to get his brain around admitting that. 

“I’m here.” 

----------

Ryan groans, the tail end of it turning into something like a choked off yell involuntarily, and grits out “oh fucking shit , that’s insane .” He’s back to lying on his side, now, with Spencer in front of him and Ginger by his legs. He clutches at Spencer desperately, and he can’t hear anything over the noises he’s making now, groaning. He knows they’re both telling him comforting things, but all he can actually hear is his own voice saying “oh god , that’s… fuck .” 

He breathes hard as it lets up, and the nurse asks “could I check you again?” 

Instead of answering Ryan asks “what time is it?” 

“Uh,” Spencer says, shifting a little to see the clock. “Eleven fifty five.” 

“Don’t do anything till midnight,” he says weakly, closing his eyes, and he knows he’s only got about a minute to rest between contractions, now, so he’s going to take the opportunity to do that. 

“Are you sure? Are you feeling any, uh, pressure?” Spencer asks, parroting the question everyone fucking else keeps asking him. 

“The best thing I can do for our kids right now is to not have them on Nine Eleven, Spencer. I can take it.” 

“It’ll probably take a few minutes for the doctor to get here, anyway,” Spencer reasons. “If they call now they might not even be here till midnight.” 

Ryan wants to say no again, but then he’s having another fucking contraction, and the pressure, god . He grits out “fine,” a little breathlessly. Spencer keeps touching him, and, thank god, nobody else takes it as an invitation to do the same. 

As soon as he relaxes he hears Ginger ask “do you want me to leave, honey?” and Ryan says “no,” automatically, desperately. “Mom, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me,” he begs, aware, somewhere at the back of his head, that he’s being kind of dramatic and ridiculous. 

Ginger rounds the bed, so she’s sitting behind his back now, and says “okay, honey, I won’t.” She rubs his arm, the same way she does when she’s trying to wake him up gently, and adds “It’s okay, baby, you’re doing really good. I’m really proud of you.” 

Ryan takes a few deep breaths, then rolls over onto his back with more than a little difficulty. He glances over at the clock. Three minutes till midnight. 

A couple more people walk in the room then, and the nurse, the one he likes, asks “can I check you?” He nods, swallowing hard, and she grabs a pair of gloves as she says “alright, let’s see how we’re doing here.” 

Ryan nods, and he’s about to move to let her do what she needs to do, but then he’s contracting again , and he says “oh, fuck, give me a second,” as he flails for Spencer again. He finds his hand, and then wraps his other arm around his shoulders, grabbing at the back of his shirt and groaning as he presses his face into his shoulder. Spencer pets his hair and holds his hand, just like he’s been doing for the last twelve hours now, and as much as Ryan is determined to wait three more minutes before these kids are born, he also cannot wait for this to be over. It hurts so bad. 

“Okay,” he says as soon as it’s over, willing himself not to be embarrassed, but keeping his face pressed to Spencer’s shoulder all the same as he spreads his legs a little. “Go ahead, do… whatever.” 

He breathes slowly, focuses on the feeling of Spencer against him again instead of, ya know, fingers, and the nurse says “yeah, you’re ready alright,” as she pulls back. He glances at the clock, just a minute left. 

“You got this,” Spencer says against his shoulder, and Ryan whines, trying not to be overwhelmed with nurses fucking manhandling him, and so many eyes on him god . 

“Okay, next one push right down here, okay?” someone says from next to his feet, and he can feel a contraction building, but he grits his teeth, willing himself not to do anything yet. Just a little bit longer. 

Fuck it hurts though. It hurts so bad, and he closes his eyes against it, shaking his head. 

“Ryan? Ryan.” Spencer is pulling him back, now, settling him against the pillows, and he stares right into his eyes as he says, firm but reassuring, “it’s midnight. Push.” 

He gives in, curls forward so he can press his forehead back to Spencer’s shoulder, and that shit feels crazy . The pressure is insane, but it feels way better than just laying there. He knows people are giving him instructions, and he knows he’s yelling, but all he can actually hear is Spencer’s voice in his ear telling him “good job, you’re doing perfect. You’re doing absolutely perfect.” 

He’s breathing hard by the time it ends, and he drops back against the pillows, his eyes closed. Someone says something about “good progress,” he nods, but he isn’t really listening. 

There’s a hand in his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead, and someone, he assumes Ginger, is pressing a cool towel to his face. He hums, because that’s really nice, and turns his head to look at her. He feels fucking exhausted, and he thinks he probably looks like shit, but she smiles at him warmly, like always, and says “you’re doing really good, honey. Just a couple more,” as she moves the towel away. 

He feels another one, and reaches out to her automatically, not even aware he’s going to do it, but she grabs his hand without question, rubbing his forearm soothingly with her free hand. He curls forward into Spencer again, because that worked well last time, apparently, and just fucking goes with it. 

He pushes as hard as he can, and he knows he’s yelling again, but that fucking hurts , worse than anything has up until this point. He wants to get away from it, but he knows he can’t, he knows the only way out is through, so he just yells “fuck! ” as loud as he can into Spencer’s shoulder, and keeps going. 

He has to take a second to pant, and some nurse says “put all that yelling energy into pushing, come on,” to which he responds by screaming “fuck off!” shortly followed by “oh, god! ” as he slams his face into Spencer’s shoulder and pushes again. 

As soon as he falls backwards again, panting like he just ran a marathon, a nurse says “couple more like that and you’ll have her out in the next five minutes.” He stares into Spencer’s eyes, hoping for something to ground him, and Spencer stares at him as if he hung the moon, still. Even though he’s sweaty and scared and kind of shaking, Spencer keeps smiling down at him, just like he did when they were teenagers, all moon-eyed on their first couple ‘real dates,’ and pets his hair, even though it’s sweaty and gross. 

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer says earnestly, and Ryan laughs weakly. 

“You have to say that,” he says, closing his eyes, trying to catch just a moment of rest before he has to go again. 

“I mean it, too,” Spencer tells him, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.” 

Ryan groans, a contraction picking up again, but he manages to grit out “love you too,” before his face is back in Spencer’s shoulder, and that fucking hurts so bad now, oh god . He thought the last one was bad but this is bad . He’s not entirely convinced he’ll survive at this point, Jesus. He chants “oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! ” and then there’s a weird sort of release, and he makes a strangled, surprised sound as he pulls back to stare up at Spencer in shock. 

“Heads out, just breathe for a second,” a nurse says, weirdly chipper, and he whispers “yeah I know,” shortly followed by an awed “oh my god,” as he stares up at his husband. He’s still panting, because it’s fucking difficult not to push at this point, but he’s also in complete goddamn disbelief. 

“Good job,” Spencer says sincerely, petting his hair again and squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Ryan wants to say something, but then a nurse says “one more, honey. One more good push,” so he presses his nose to the underside of Spencer’s jaw, breathing deeply, and he fucking pushes. 

It hurts bad for a second, but then it doesn’t anymore, and a baby is crying, his baby is crying, and she’s being placed on his chest, and… holy fuck. Holy fuck. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, to the screaming child in his arms. “Oh my god, hi.” He shushes her, mostly on instinct, and he vaguely thinks that he’s crying, but he can’t really tell until he chokes out a sob, grinning, and says “oh, I know. It’s okay. Dad’s here. I’ve got you, honey.” She settles a little, and he smiles harder. He calmed her down! He actually calmed her down, holy shit. It kind of clicks, then, like people always say it does, the fact that he can do this. He knows what to do, somehow. He knows how to take care of his daughter, and god, does he love her. 

He vaguely registers some doctor cutting the cord, because Spencer said he was absolutely not doing that months ago, (which is fair, Ryan wouldn’t want to, either,) and then she’s not attached to him anymore, which is a weird thought after carrying her around for nine months. He looks back up at Spencer finally, and he’s laughing and crying and looking completely overwhelmed, so Ryan prompts him with “talk to her, Spence. She knows your voice.” 

“Hi there,” he says, his voice sounding choked up. “Oh my god, Ryan, she’s perfect. How’d you do that?” 

“You helped,” he jokes, grinning down at her as she finally settles. 

“Nah, look at her nose,” Spencer says, and Ryan can feel Spencer’s smile when he presses his mouth to his hair. “That’s all you.” 

She opens her eyes, blinking up at them blearily, and Spencer repeats “hi there!” 

Ryan is about to say something else, but then he sucks in a breath through his teeth as some doctor is poking and prodding and manhandling him again, checking whatever the fuck they need to check. It’s way easier to ignore them with a baby on his chest than it was with just Spencer, so that’s nice, at least. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says to her, kind of nonsensically. “I need to get your sister out soon.” 

“She’s in a good position,” the nurse, the one Ryan likes, cuts in. “Shouldn’t be too long.” 

“You hear that, honey? Your sister’s gonna be here soon,” Ryan says, turning back to his daughter. He’s so utterly in love with her. She’s the best thing he’s ever seen, for sure. Spencer reaches down, offering her a finger, and she grabs it immediately. 

“Smart girl,” Spencer says, and Ryan can still hear the grin in his voice. 

His body chooses that moment to decide that, actually, we’re still in labor, and he grunts a little, pressing his face to Spencer’s shoulder as he has another contraction. He manages to relax and breathe through it, though, not tightening his arms or anything, because he’s really scared of squishing his kid. Spencer comforts him as best he can, and Ryan breathes out hard as it ends, turning back to his daughter. 

“Sorry, love,” he says gently. “Your sister really wants out.” 

“You want to give her to me so we can get her checked out?” the nurse he likes asks gently. “Promise we’ll have her all safe and sound for you by the time her sister is here.” 

Ryan really does not want to hand her over, but he knows he has to, so he nods, biting his lip, as he lets the nurse take her. He turns to Ginger, then, kind of desperately, and asks “can you watch her? Make sure she’s okay?” 

“Sure, honey,” she says, smiling as she wipes her own face free of tears. She stands, but before she leaves she leans over the bed, kisses him on the forehead, and says “I am so, so proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom,” he says, still sniffling, himself, and she kisses the top of his head one more time before crossing the room to watch her granddaughter get weighed. 

Ryan knows that she doesn’t need to do that, knows his daughter will be safe with the literal medical professionals who have her, but the current absolutely wild flood of hormones in his body are not super conducive to logical thinking, so he wants someone he trusts there to watch over her. He trusts Spencer’s mom. 

Another contraction picks up, and that hurts really bad again. Ryan whines, grabs Spencer around the shoulders again, and doesn’t even give a shit that there’s another fucking lady fingering him at this point. What the fuck ever. 

“You can push again, if you need to,” the nurse informs him, and he does so immediately . He doesn’t yell as much this time, because he doesn’t want to scare his daughter. He mostly makes small kind of whining noises until it’s over, and the nurse says “couple more and she’ll be here.” 

Ryan nods, drops his head back against the pillows again, his eyes closed, but then his daughter cries across the room, and his head automatically shoots up to look over there. 

Ginger is standing over her, shushing her, as some doctor does some test, and Ryan asks “what happened? Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, honey,” Ginger says gently, and Spencer is trying to get him to lay back again, petting his hair. “Just overwhelmed, I think, but she’s definitely got strong lungs. I’ve got this, you just focus on having her sister, alright?” 

Ryan sighs, trying not to feel like a limb is missing as he hears his daughter cry across the room, but they get her settled again after a second, and he manages to rest for a second, closing his eyes. 

On the next one, he grabs Spencer’s hand hard , fists a hand in the back of his shirt, and pushes as hard as he possibly fucking can, because he needs her out . This time, it goes way faster than with the first, and after two pushes her head is out, and he’s panting again, waiting for the go ahead. Spencer rubs his back, comforting, and he tries to focus on that instead of how bad he wants to just push and get this fucking over with . 

The nurse is barely done saying “okay, go ahead,” when he’s pushing as hard as he fucking can, his forehead pressed into Spencer’s neck again, and then there’s another baby crying, being placed on his chest, and finally, finally , he can fucking relax .

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, grinning down at her despite how fantastically exhausted he is. “I know, honey, I know,” he mutters, shushing her. “I got you.” Again, he vaguely notices someone cutting the cord, but he really doesn’t care at this point, he’s done his bit. 

“Hi,” Spencer manages from beside him. “Hey, beautiful, it’s okay” he says gently, and she settles down quickly after that. Papa’s girl, apparently. Ryan is over the fucking moon. 

She opens her eyes, staring up at them, and Ryan says “god, Spence, she looks just like you.” Well, his baby photos, at least. All babies kind of just look like babies. 

“Woah,” Spencer says simply, and when Ryan glances up at him he’s staring down at her, wide eyed. He says “you cloned me,” as he stares down at the baby in Ryan’s arms, and Ryan laughs at him, trying not to be too loud so he won’t disturb his daughter on his chest. He cranes his neck up to kiss Spencer on the cheek, now that he’s not too busy literally giving birth to do stuff like that, and Spencer turns back to look at him. They grin at each other stupidly, all teary and exhausted, and Ryan has no idea who leans in first, but they manage a clumsy kiss, all teeth and grinning. 

“Trade you,” the nurse says, walking over with the baby she’d been holding. She hands her to Spencer, who looks kind of overwhelmed to have his daughter on his chest suddenly, and Ryan reluctantly hands his other daughter over. 

Spencer shuffles over a little, settling in so he’s leaning back against the half-upright part of the bed, and Ryan wraps his arms around his waist, settling his head on his shoulder to look down at their daughter. 

“Talk to her,” he says sleepily. “She loves your voice.” 

“How do you know?” 

“They both used to stop kicking so hard when you talked,” he says, kissing Spencer on the shoulder a few times. He smells kind of sweaty, but Ryan kinda likes that smell. He smells like him , and, importantly, not like hospital. Ryan breathes deeply against his shirt. 

“We need names,” Spencer says softly, readjusting his hold on their daughter. 

“She’s Alana Rose,” Ryan says confidently, then, softer, he adds “Allie,” with a smile. The baby looks up at him, waving her tiny arms in an entirely uncoordinated fashion, and he says “yeah? You like that? Allie?” She makes a weird little baby noise, and Ryan laughs a little, smiling down at her. She seems to like that, too, because she makes another happy noise as she looks up at him. 

“Allie,” Spencer repeats, and Ryan can tell he’s grinning without even looking at him. 

Ryan groans a little, presses his face into Spencer’s shoulder, and says “ow, hang on.”

“You alright?” 

Some nurse says the word “placentas,” in an absurdly chipper voice, and if Ryan was not currently in pain he’d laugh pretty fucking hard at that. He mentally tells himself to remember that for later, because some random lady just saying the word “placentas,” in a really pleasant tone is hysterical. As it stands, though, he does as he’s told, pushes when instructed, and he’s done with that bit relatively quickly, thank god.

“You want to see?” that one nurse he likes asks, holding the medical waste container. 

“Ugh, gross,” Ryan says, immediately followed by “show me.” Spencer snorts, and the nurse lets him see for a second. “Gnarly,” Ryan says, grinning. It is fucking gnarly looking, but also kinda cool. It’s a whole ass organ. Two, actually. Crazy. 

“Yeah, Jesus,” Spencer says, sounding kind of horrified, and Ryan laughs at him. He feels ten years old, standing next to Spencer with big sticks, gawking at roadkill. She takes that off to… wherever the fuck they take things like that in the hospital, and Ryan puts his head back on Spencer’s shoulder. He has never been this tired in his life, but he also definitely won’t be able to sleep for a while, still. 

“You can sit up a little if you want, you’re all good,” the chipper ‘placenta’ lady says, and Ryan sort of hums in acknowledgment, nuzzling into Spencer’s shoulder a little. He’s comfortable here. 

He does sit up, however, when someone walks over with his other daughter. He shuffles over as he sits up, giving Spencer more room to fully stretch out on the bed, and opens his arms for his baby. 

“Hey there,” he says as she’s placed in his arms again, where she belongs. “Hello, Natalie Ginger.” 

“Natalie Ginger?” Spencer’s mom asks, slowly approaching the chair she’s been sitting in for a lot of the last hour or so. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, smiling at her. “Nat.” 

“Nat,” she repeats, testing it out. “Nat and Allie.” 

“You can come closer,” Ryan tells her. Slowly, she moves to sit on the bed next to Ryan, and Ryan smiles down at Nat as he says “you want to meet grandma?” She makes a pleased seeming noise at him, and he beams at her, asking “yeah?” in that over-enthusiastic baby voice. Weird how he picked that up so automatically. 

“Hey, Natalie,” Ginger says, offering her a finger to hold, which she takes with another pleased sound. “She does look just like you,” she comments softly. 

“Allie looks just like Spence,” he tells her, glancing over at her. She seems to be absolutely enraptured by whatever faces Spencer is making at her, and Ryan feels like his insides are absolute mush. 

Ginger kisses him on the top of his head again, and says “I’m gonna go talk to the girls, alright? I’ll bring them in in like fifteen minutes, if that’s okay.” 

“That sounds perfect,” he says, and she nods as she leaves the room. “Thank you, mom, really” he adds, as sincerely as he can. 

“Of course,” she says simply, like she always does, and leaves the room. 

They’re only left in silence for a few moments before the chipper ‘placenta’ lady comments “That just might be one of the biggest sets of twins I’ve ever seen.” Ryan laughs. 

“Yeah, I blame him for that,” he says, gesturing to Spencer. 

“Healthy, too,” she adds over her shoulder as she walks away to sort out god knows what across the room, and Ryan beams at her back. Fuck yes they are, he did that. He worked damn hard at it, too. 

Spencer kisses him on the shoulder again, and says “I’m proud of you,” in a low voice, muffled against his skin. “So proud.” 

Ryan sighs, knocks his head against Spencer’s, and says “I’m proud of you, too.” 

“Why?” Spencer says, laughing slightly. “I did the easy part.” 

“You did perfect,” he says, shuffling closer to feel his warmth down his side. He’s really fucking cold, suddenly. “Everything I needed, everything. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” 

“I didn’t answer when you called me,” Spencer counters.

“You were driving.” 

“I kinda freaked out on the way to the hospital.” 

Ryan snorts, and says “I literally do not remember that at all. All I remember is ‘ow that hurts’ and ‘thank god Spencer is here.’” 

He curls into Spencer’s side a little, shivering, and Spencer says “are you alright?” 

“Yeah, just cold,” he says, going back to staring down at Natalie. “Got the shakes a little,” he adds, laughing, as he presses his lips together, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Spencer asks, sounding properly worried. 

Ryan nods, and is about to reassure him, when his favorite nurse walks over with a blanket, and says “it’s totally normal, the adrenaline is just wearing off. Happens to a lot of people.” 

She covers him with the blanket, smiling pleasantly, and Ryan says a kind of sleepy “thanks,” followed by “what’s your name?” 

“Hazel,” she says, stepping back to give them space. 

“Thanks, Hazel, you’ve been great,” Ryan tells her sincerely. 

“Actually?” she asks. 

“Yeah, couldn’t have asked for better,” Ryan tells her, and she smiles sheepishly at them. 

“Thanks, uh, it’s my first week on this ward,” she confesses, fidgeting with her badge. “I was kinda nervous.” 

“You did great,” Ryan says again, trying to sound reassuring, and she gives them a little nod, smiling at the ground as she leaves the room. 

There’s still a couple doctors in the room, moving around and doing whatever around the edges of the room, but Ryan kind of just lets them fade into the background as he looks down at his baby girl. His daughters are the best thing he’s ever seen, seriously. He could look at them for hours and hours. It’s a weird feeling, because he’s never even thought babies were all that cute before, let alone interesting, but his babies are absolutely perfect, and he finds them endlessly fascinating. He has no idea how he made something this perfect. 

“Hi, Natalie. Hi, Nat,” he says, smiling down at her ridiculously. He can’t stop grinning every time he sees her or her sister, he just can’t help it. She looks up at him, almost like she’s studying his face, and he stares right back. His face fucking hurts from smiling at this point, but it doesn’t matter. 

“Hey, Ryan?” Spencer asks, and, reluctantly, he looks up from his daughter. “You think you can take both of them? I need to do birth certificates,” he says, gesturing with his head to the nurse standing next to them with a pen and a couple pieces of paper. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says, sitting up a little and shuffling so Natalie is on one arm. Spencer shifts around to face him, and places Alana on him almost absurdly carefully. She fusses a little at being moved, but she also recognizes that she’s on her dad after a few seconds of shushing, and settles down. 

Spencer sits back a little, grinning at them, and then kisses both his daughters foreheads gently, which is very very adorable and Ryan kind of feels like he could melt just from watching it. He should feel more dumb about this than he does, but he literally cannot bring himself to. He expects him to leave the bed after that, but then he’s cupping the side of Ryan’s face, kissing him firmly on the lips. He moves to kiss his cheek, saying “I love you, I love you, I love you,” between kisses, and Ryan laughs at him. 

“I love you too, honey, but get off me. You have paperwork,” he laughs. Spencer pulls back, kisses him on the lips just one more time, and Ryan grins at him as he finally leaves the bed. 

Ryan mutters smiley nonsense at his kids for a while while Spencer does their birth certificates. He asks Ryan about every other box, even though he knows what to write, because he’s paranoid about being one of those parents who accidentally writes the wrong thing on the birth certificate. He’s done by the time the nice nurse knocks on the door again, popping her head in, and says “grandmas here with your sisters?” 

“Let them in,” Ryan says immediately, and then Ginger, followed by two timidly excited teenagers, are in the room. They look kind of shocked to see two fresh kids, just, like, there suddenly. 

Jackie says a simple “woah,” as she stares at them, and Ryan laughs. 

“You can come closer,” he says gently, and the twins gingerly approach the bed, kind of peering over at their nieces. He turns back to his daughters, grinning, and says “you want to meet your aunt Jackie and aunt Crystal?” They make little baby noises up at him, and he does a little more stupid exaggerated smiling at them before asking the twins “you want to hold them?” 

They nod nervously, and Spencer guides them to sit down on the couch. He collects each baby from Ryan gently, showing his sisters how to hold them, and Ryan is, like, insanely proud as he watches him introduce his girls to their aunts. 

“They’re so tiny,” Crystal says, staring down at Natalie in her arms. 

“They did not feel tiny, I promise,” Ryan jokes, and both twins look just slightly horrified as they look down at the kids and remember that they had to come out of him . Yeah, he thinks, exactly. Ryan tries to sit up a little more, but cringes a bit as he moves, grunting involuntarily, because his whole lower body sort of feels like it’s been hit by a truck. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asks immediately, moving to sit next to him on the bed. 

“Just sore,” he assures him, giving up on sitting up. He does shuffle over a little to wrap his arms around Spencer’s waist, resting his head against his side to watch his sisters-in-law with his daughters, and Spencer moves a hand back to his hair automatically. He really needs a shower, but he highly doubts he’s going to manage one in the near future. He doesn’t really care, though, because Spencer is next to him, and his daughters are safe and sound, and Ginger is giving him that proud smile again. Everything is good. 

Jackie looks up at them, considering, and says “don’t take this the wrong way, but you guys look like hell.” 

Spencer makes a sort of offended noise, and says “hey!” indignantly, but Ryan just laughs.

“I know,” he says, grinning, but Spencer tugs him slightly closer. 

“You look beautiful,” he says defensively, leaning down to kiss his hair. Ryan snorts. 

“Spencer, I have been crying for an hour, and I look like I just ran a marathon. Just because you have some weird biological thing going on making you convinced I’m the best thing ever for having your kids doesn’t mean everyone else is delusional,” Ryan argues. He realizes, suddenly, that this is the first time he can remember crying, or even admitting to crying, in front of anyone without being scared. He wants his girls to feel like that forever, like they’re allowed to cry and feel whatever they feel, and he’ll love them anyway. He will love them forever and ever, no matter what. He needs them to know that from day one. 

Spencer says “whatever, I still think you’re gorgeous and perfect,” and Ryan gets a laugh from Jackie when he replies with a dismissive “you’re entitled to your opinion.” 

----------

Crystal and Jackie leave eventually, and the nurses help Ryan and Spencer get their kids fed. Ginger decides to stay the night with them, despite both their insistence that she doesn’t have to. She reminds them she promised to help out, and refuses to hear it. Once the girls are in their cots across the room, Ginger watching over them, Ryan suddenly feels every second of his twelve hour labor settling into his bones. He lays on his side, sighing, and Spencer sits down next to him gently, running fingers through his hair. 

“You really did do so well,” he says softly. “I am so, so proud of you.” 

Ryan looks up at him sleepily, and says “I really do mean it, about you doing perfectly.” He closes his eyes again, shivering a little under the thin hospital blanket, and says a sleepy “so proud of you, love you so much.” 

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer whispers to him, still petting his hair. “Do you need anything? Still cold?” 

Ryan nods, because he is still kind of freezing, and says “lay down with me?” 

“Are you sure that’s-?” 

“Spence,” he starts, half fond and half impatient. “If I just survived that , sharing a bed with my husband is not going to kill me.” 

Spencer laughs at him, but he does as he’s told, shuffling into the vacated space on the bed next to Ryan. Ryan shuffles closer, enjoying how he can tuck his head under Spencer’s chin again, no longer dealing with a massive goddamn baby bump between them when they lay like this. Spencer holds him absurdly gently, which is very sweet, if unnecessary, and pets his hair, and Ryan is dead asleep in minutes. 

He wakes up with a start to the sound of a baby crying, which is really jarring after being used to nine months of hardly being able to wake up in the morning despite setting multiple alarms. He tries to sit up, even in his half awake state, but Spencer shushes him, pushes him back down, and says “I got it, go back to sleep.” 

Ryan shakes his head, still attempting to pull himself up, but Spencer is already halfway across the room by the time he manages to say “I have to pee, anyway.” 

He manages, miraculously, to get himself to a seated position, cringing a little, and Spencer pauses halfway to picking their screaming daughter up, asking him a worried “do you need any help?” 

Ryan shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and heaves himself up with a slightly strained “I got it.” Someone apparently brought him one of those nice hospital robes, which has been folded nicely over the arm of the couch, and he grabs that on his way to the bathroom, because it’s fucking cold and he feels weird wearing a hospital gown. He can’t want to get in his normal clothes again, his actual normal clothes , not the massive shirts he’s been wearing for months. “You get her settled,” he says sleepily. “I’ll be right back.” 

Holy shit it is so much easier to piss when you aren’t pregnant. Even though standing up at all right now isn’t the most pleasant experience, it’s so much better than it was a couple days ago. And, despite feeling like he’s been hit by a truck, he can also viscerally feel how much lighter he is after having lost almost twenty pounds over the course of a day, which is novel. He doesn’t take his time in the bathroom, though, because even as he’s washing his hands he can still hear his daughter crying in the next room, and that feels like a weird magnetic pull. He knew that would happen, sure, but wow is it stronger than he was expecting. 

He shuffles over to Spencer once he leaves the bathroom, finding him looking sort of distressed and overwhelmed as he tries to shush the screaming baby in his arms. He looks up at Ryan desperately, clearly freaking out a little, and Ryan says “hey, it’s okay,” not sure if he’s talking more to his husband or his kid. He wraps his arms around Spencer’s waist, rests his head on his shoulder to look down at Allie in his arms, and says “it’s alright, honey. We’re right here.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer says kind of desperately, still trying to bounce the baby in his arms a bit. 

“It’s okay,” Ryan repeats, kissing him on the cheek. “Babies cry, it’s alright. You’re doing fine. Just take a deep breath.” Spencer does, and Allie settles down just slightly. “See, there you go,” Ryan says in a low voice. “She just wants her papa.” 

“How are you so good at this?” Spencer asks, laughing nervously. 

“Dunno,” Ryan tells him honestly, kind of caught off guard by acknowledging that, yeah, he is good at this. “Just instinct, I guess.” He kisses Spencer on the shoulder one more time, then pulls away to stand in front of him. “Here, give her here,” he says, “I think she’s hungry, can you go make a bottle?” 

“Yeah, here,” Spencer says as he hands her over. “Sorry, I feel like I should be able to take care of all this for you,” he adds guiltily as he pulls away. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he says with a yawn, rocking his daughter a little as he tries to settle her. “It’s my job, you know? I don’t mind.” He looks down at Allie, smiling at her even as she cries, and says “I don’t mind at all, love. Dad’s got you.” 

“I really don’t understand how you’re so good at this,” Spencer says, turning around to face them as the bottle heats up. “Not that I thought you wouldn’t be, it’s just, like… really impressive.” 

“You are too,” Ryan assures him. “You just need to be less nervous about it.” 

“Not like you, though,” Spencer argues, walking back over to them with the bottle. 

“They lived in my body for nine months, Spence. I just have a head start,” he reminds him gently. At least, that’s his theory about it. Spencer tries to hand him the bottle, but he shakes his head, gesturing to Allie gently, and says “you feed her.” Spencer looks kind of nervous, but he manages to get her to latch onto the bottle relatively quickly, and she settles down again. “See?” he says, grinning up at Spencer again. “Told you you were good at this.” 

Spencer wraps his free arm around Ryan’s back gently, settling his head on his opposite shoulder to watch their daughter drink. Ryan kisses him on the top of his head. 

“Hey, where’s your mom?” he asks into his hair, suddenly realizing she’s not in the room. 

“She went out to get breakfast,” Spencer mumbles. “She left a note.” 

“Breakfast? What time is it?” Ryan asks, looking around the room. His eyes settle on the clock finally, and apparently it’s eight AM. He thinks he got to sleep around two, so all in all that’s not terrible. He can be up now, especially considering how everyone will probably insist on making him lay down or sleep for half the day, anyway.  

“Eight,” Spencer says simply, yawning. “I hope she grabbed coffee.” 

Ryan grins into his hair, and says “me too,” as soon as he realizes that he can actually have coffee again, as much as he wants. Maybe it’ll even smell good again. 

As if summoned, Ginger slips in the room as quietly as she can, holding a couple bags with a Panera logo on them and a drink holder. He grins broadly when he sees the drinks. Coffee , thank god. 

“Woah, hi,” she says softly, raising her eyebrows. “Ryan, I didn’t think you’d be out of bed. Are you alright?” 

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “Don’t really like the idea of being bedridden, anyway,” he shrugs, looking back down at his baby. He really could stare at her for hours. She’s gazing up at Spencer now as she drinks, his head still resting on Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan grins at them so hard he feels like his face is going to fucking break. 

He only looks up when he hears a camera shutter noise, and he raises an eyebrow at Ginger as she grins at her phone. He thinks it’s kind of sweet how she hasn’t turned the ringer off. At least she knows how to keep the flash off, he supposes. 

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she comments, smiling down at her phone. 

Ryan is about to ask her to see it, but then Allie makes some noise, spitting out the bottle, and Spencer says “guess she’s done,” with a laugh as he sets the bottle to the side. 

“You want to take her?” Ryan asks. “I'm starving.” 

“God, I bet you are,” Spencer says. He kisses him on the cheek one more time before taking the kid, and says “go eat. I got this.” 

“Yes, you do,” he says confidently. Ginger has settled on the couch, where he’s pretty sure she spent the night, and Ryan, instead of sitting on the bed, sits down next to her. It takes him a second to find a position that’s comfortable, but he eventually settles on being half curled up against the back of the couch, and it feels really nice to be upright again. 

“I got you one of those lattes you used to love in high school,” she says, passing the drink to him. He takes it, feeling the warmth on his hands through the paper cup. He takes a deep breath through his nose, smelling sweet, delicious, normal coffee, and sighs happily. He takes a sip, and it’s actually good again. He could almost cry. 

“I love not being pregnant,” he says dreamily. Ginger laughs out loud. 

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat,” she continues, placing a few bags between them. “So I got a couple things, some breakfast sandwiches, and some of that broccoli cheese soup I know you used to love. 

He looks at her, dead serious, and asks “have I told you recently that you’re the best ever?” 

“You’ve mentioned it,” she says goodnaturedly, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He smiles at her, easy and open, and thinks about how genuinely insane it feels that he gets to be this… happy . He has a family, a perfect little family, and he’s okay. He never thought he could be this okay. 

“Thank you so much, mom,” he says, suddenly emotional. “For everything.” 

“Of course, honey,” she says immediately. “I promised I’d help out, right?” 

“No, everything ,” he clarifies. “Since I was six. Everything.” 

“It’s been my pleasure, Ryan,” she tells him sincerely. He doesn’t even realize how bad he’s tearing up until she’s wiping his face, kissing him on the forehead, and saying “now eat your food, you must be starving after a workout like that .” 

He laughs weakly, but nods, taking another sip of sweet, wonderful coffee , and opens the first bag he sees. 

Ryan winds up eating one of the breakfast sandwiches, just because he’s excited about eggs not making him feel vaguely ill anymore, and, like, half of a baguette with the container of soup. He was fucking starving . Turns out giving birth takes a lot of energy. Who knew? By the time he’s done Ginger is completely finished with her sandwich, now just sipping from a cup of coffee, and Spencer has managed to feed Nat all by himself after she got fussy. He curls up next to Ryan as soon as the girls are both down again, and Ryan throws an arm over his shoulders, squeezing comfortingly, as he hands him a coffee. 

He pecks Ryan on the lips, says “thanks,” emphatically, and drinks from the cup so enthusiastically it looks like he’s having a religious experience. Ryan snorts at him. 

“So,” he says, turning back to Ginger. “You got some photos?” 

“Oh, yeah!” she says, pulling out her phone. “I got some amazing candids. Here, I’ll send them to you guys.” 

Ryan’s phone buzzes on the side table, and Spencer hands it to him. He navigates to the family group chat with the three of them in it. 

There’s only about ten pictures in there, but they’re kind of… wow. He has no idea how he didn’t notice her taking these, but he supposes he didn’t notice a lot of things last night. 

The first is of him grinning down at Allie, clearly seconds after she was born. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a photo of himself smiling that wide. Spencer, on the other hand, is crying, but he’s also grinning, looking right at Ryan like he’s the only thing in the room. 

The second one is clearly seconds after, Allie still on his chest, but this time he and Spencer are grinning at each other, and he loves that one. 

The next is taken from across the room, Ryan and Spencer both grinning down at Natalie as she looks up at them. The camera quality is weirdly good for how far away she was, Ryan thinks. It’s kind of impressive. 

Then there’s one of him kissing Spencer on the cheek, and one of them actually kissing, or, at least trying to, because they’re both visibly smiling too hard for it to work. 

Then there’s one of Spencer holding Alana, Ryan’s arms wrapped around his waist. Ryan is giving her that big, exaggerated, open mouthed smile over Spencer’s shoulder, and she’s staring up at him curiously. Spencer, on the other hand, has his neck craned to stare at Ryan, and he’s giving him this look, totally enraptured, almost close to tears, with a tiny smile fighting to get through the awe in his expression. It looks a lot like their wedding photos. Ryan decides immediately that that’s his favorite. 

There’s one after that of both of them on the bed, holding a baby each, and Spencer is making goofy faces down at Allie as Ryan grins at him. He thinks they should get that one framed, holy shit. He looks sweaty and tired in all of them, of course, but his smile in that one is just… 

“Mom, these are fantastic,” Spencer says from next to him, staring down at the phone. There’s a couple more he remembers taking, some posed ones, one of Jackie and Crystal holding the girls, but they’re not nearly as good as the candids. Those are just… intimate, in a way that Ryan is, surprisingly, really okay with Ginger having witnessed, especially because it means he gets to have pictures. 

“Thank you,” Ginger says graciously, taking a sip of her coffee. “I took a class on photography last year,” she tells them, shrugging. “It was just something to do, but I’m always glad to put it to use.” 

“It was worth it,” Ryan says sincerely, looking back down at his phone. The last picture, of course, is the one she just took, of him holding Allie, with Spencer’s arm around his back, head on his shoulder, feeding her. Spencer is smiling down at her sleepily, and Ryan is absolutely beaming at her as she stares up at Spencer. She was right, that is a good one. 

He swipes back to the one of all four of them, him grinning at Spencer as he makes faces at Allie. He tilts the phone more towards Spencer, and says “I want this one framed.” 

Spencer nods in agreement, and Ginger asks “which?” He shows her, and she grins, saying “me too, I love that one.”

Ryan imagines it on her mantle, next to his and Spencer’s high school graduation photos, and smiles wide. 

----------

Later, while Spencer is standing over the girls, and Ryan has, reluctantly, been moved back to the bed, he pulls out his phone to look through his contacts, all the people he hasn’t responded to in a day and now has to text something along the lines of ‘sorry, gave birth!’ He finds his moms contact and clicks on it. The last conversation they had was maybe a month ago, something about the stuff he pulled out of storage, and some polite commiseration about being heavily pregnant in the summer. (That really did suck.) 

He opens up his photos, attaching one of him and Spencer posing with both girls, and then, after a little deliberation, he also adds the one of him smiling at Spencer, the one he wants framed. He captions it ‘Alana Rose & Natalie Ginger Ross-Smith. Born just after midnight, September 12th. Both 7 pounds and healthy .’ It’s a variation of what he’s going to send to everyone else in the next thirty-ish minutes, but some part of him feels like it’s important that he texts his mom first. 

Not a minute after he sends it, he receives the reply ‘ oh, Ryan, they’re gorgeous! ’ Followed quickly by ‘ 7 pounds!? How are you doing? ’ 

He chuckles at his phone, and types out ‘ good, actually. They were pretty easy -“ he stops mid sentence as he types that, though, deleting the last part. They weren’t easy. They will not be easy, not like he was. Having them was the single hardest thing he’s ever done, so they weren’t easy , but they don’t have to be . They’re worth it. He loves them without them being easy, and he’ll love them when they cry, when they keep him up all night, when they’re teenagers screaming that they hate him. He’ll love them for every second of it. 

‘ Doctors say I can leave tomorrow ’ he says instead, and sends the text off. 

A couple minutes later his mom texts him “ I’d love to meet them some time, if that’s alright ,’ and Ryan bites his lip, looking up at the room. Ginger is talking to one of the girls in a low voice, grinning at her, and everything in his chest feels warm and safe as he watches her. 

‘ Soon, yeah. When they’re a little older and I can bring them out more ,’ he says, being sure not to imply that she’s going to come to his home. He’s not sure he’s ready for that yet. She can see them, sure, but on his terms. He meant it when he was at the funeral, nine weeks pregnant, mentally promising to protect them from his family. Well, his birth family. 

Natalie starts fussing in Spencer’s arms, and Ryan looks up at them, raising his eyebrows. Spencer says “I think she wants you,” with an apologetic smile, and Ryan puts his phone down on the tray next to him as he opens his arms for her. Spencer places her on his chest, and he shushes her, talking in a low voice. He puts her close to his heart, because he knows she’s probably missing the sound of his heartbeat, and she settles down quickly. He smiles down at her as she looks up at him. She always seems so curious about everything, which he supposes is to he expected since she’s never seen, well, anything before. Spencer kisses him on the shoulder as he settles in next to him, then rests his head on his shoulder to watch their daughter. Ryan presses his nose to his hair, appreciating the subtle smell of their shampoo that’s still left there, and smiles. 

His phone buzzes on the tray next to him. He ignores it.