Chapter Text
Dan sat in the waiting room of his therapist's office, fidgeting with the string on his hoodie.
“Dan?”
He looked up to see Erica standing there, hair in her usual high ponytail, looking at him. “Come on back.”
Dan got up to follow her, tugging down the hem of his sweater even though he knew, logically, that he wasn't remotely close to showing.
Showing. God, he’d only known he was pregnant for a day-
“So,” Erica said as they settled. “Emergency session, what’s going on?”
“I,” Dan shook his head, “I found out I- I’m pregnant.”
The word still felt so, so weird. Like it didn’t really apply to him, even though there was a spark of joy when he thought of the ultrasound, the heartbeats, Phil’s gleaming eyes.
Erica blinked. “... well, I’m very glad you called.”
Of all things, Dan burst out laughing. “I know, right? What the fuck?”
Erica chuckled. “You know I don’t get shocked easy, but you've caught me off guard with this one, Dan. How are you feeling about it?”
“Weird,” Dan admitted, “Like, I’ve been trying really hard to pick out individual feelings and name them, but until yesterday I was just in shock, and since then I’ve been feeling every emotion all at once, and it’s just… it’s a lot.”
“That’s pretty common, with pregnancy, even without the extenuating circumstances.”
“Mostly,” Dan hesitated, “mostly, I’m happy? Like, if I had a pie chart, that would be the biggest slice, but everything else is… I don’t know, I feel weird gender things, and then I’m scared, and then weird things about there being two blobs of cells growing in my body -- I’m gonna have three times the amount of bones I currently have, soon.”
Erica raised an eyebrow, “twins?”
“Phil’s got twins in his family,” Dan sighed. “They’re fraternal? Two separate blobs, which is even weirder because how often do I even drop two eggs? The testosterone has been steadily killing my uterus or whatever -- transphobes sincerely have no idea what they’re talking about, by the way, and-”
“You did a wikipedia spiral about anatomy, huh?” Erica interrupted, and Dan gave her a sheepish smile.
“Okay,” Erica said, “so, first of all, breathe.”
“I’m breathing for three.” Dan whimpered, and -- okay, so maybe he was a little more panicked than he realized.
“Yeah,” Erica said, “look, I know you hate sugar coating when you’re like this, so I’m going to straight up tell you; you’re going to feel insane for the next nine months.”
“Six and a half,” Dan mumbled, “I’m nine weeks.”
“Then you’re already a chunk of the way there,” Erica said patiently. “Make a schedule for yourself, on paper if you can. Something that says how long you have left, so that you can look at it and tell yourself that you can make it to the next milestone. I used post it notes, so I could crumple one up each week.”
“That’s -- that’s a good idea,” Dan said, closing his eyes. “Makes it tangible.”
“Have you been dissociating?"
“Yeah.” Dan opened his eyes to look at her again, suddenly exhausted. “We saw the ultrasound yesterday, and it was really great, everyone was so nice and the heartbeats were so cool to hear, but the pictures felt like it wasn’t me, that wasn’t the inside of my body, that was just someone on TV.”
“Pregnancy is one of the ultimate practices in delayed gratification.” Erica actually rolled her eyes, as if annoyed by this. “My son was almost three weeks late.”
Dan shuddered at the thought. “That’s like the worst kind of edging, and you don’t even get a safe word.”
“The safe word is cesarian.”
Dan was shocked into a laugh, and Erica softened, giving him a smile. “I know it feels weird right now, but I think you can do this, and I get the feeling you think so too.”
Dan looked down at his stomach again, he couldn't seem to stop doing that. “I wasn't sure I wanted to keep them.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person,” Erica said immediately, but Dan just shook his head. “I’m -- they’re going to be people some day, real actual people and I'm going to have to look them in the eyes and know that I didn’t want them at first, I know what that feels like, I can’t do that to them.”
“We’ve talked at length about your parents, particularly your mum,” Erica said. “Last I checked, you were working on accepting that she tried her best. Has that opinion changed?”
Dan swallowed around the lump in his throat. “No, I guess not, I just… I never want them to feel that way.”
“... I only have the information about your childhood that you’ve given me,” Erica said, her voice careful, “and I’ve never met your mother. But based on what you’ve described, given everything you’ve talked about with me and her over the years, do you think that parental responsibility has something to do with that feeling?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you think back to your childhood, to moments when you felt like you were an accident and you were the cause of various problems, what was happening? Was it in good moments, or in a period of chaos?”
Dan thought for a moment. “I mean, it was always chaos, but I guess… yeah, I guess I always felt worse when they were fighting or… or when Dad was doing his shit.”
Erica leaned forward again. “So in a stable home, do you think that a child, even an unplanned one, can feel loved?”
Dan felt that one like a rock to the chest.
He thought about Adrian, who grew up in the same world as him but was planned. He thought about his nana. Of all people, he thought about Louise and little Pearl.
“Oh,” Dan mumbled, feeling like a scab had just been ripped off. “Ok, yeah.”
Erica smiled at him. “I think we’ll have some work to do in the coming months.”
“God, yeah, I think we will.”
Dan came home and immediately changed into a big, comfortable black hoodie, even though it was warm out, then he went to find Phil in the lounge and flopped next to him.
“Bap?" Phil asked without looking away from the switch.
“Tap,” Dan grunted, closing his eyes. He was emotionally drained, he just wanted to sit here in silence and listen to Phil work his way through the switch remake of Super Mario Galaxy 2.
He cracked open his eyes again when Mario fell in a black hole, and watched as Phil grumbled and restarted the level. This happened twice more before Dan rolled his eyes and grabbed the controller from his hands. He got to a check point and a little beyond before he died too, and then he passed the controller back to Phil without a word.
They continued like that until Mario got the power star and returned to his ship, then Phil paused the game and stretched. “Coffee?”
“Not supposed to anymore, remember?” Dan said grumpily. Caffeine was on the list of things that could hurt the babies, according to the various pamphlets Dr Pathak had given them. They had sorted them into three piles -- pamphlets about possible dangers, pamphlets about birth options, and pamphlets relevant to them right now. It was all a huge waste, in Dan’s opinion, no one needed that many folded pieces of paper.
The “Prenatal No-nos” Pamphlet (not the real name, but Dan simply didn’t care enough to learn the real one) was stuck on their fridge with the list displayed, telling Dan he couldn’t have caffeine or alcohol or his fucking testosterone until the babies were out of him.
The combination of twins, Dan's age, and the testosterone he'd been taking for a decade meant that Dr Pathak was approaching their situation with what he described as “reasonable caution” -- which as far as Dan could tell, just meant twice the visits and everyone being really fucking worried about him. Phil had been an odd shade of grey as they left the doctors yesterday, but he hadn't talked to Dan about it yet.
“Right,” Phil nodded, restarting his game. “How was therapy?”
“Fine,” Dan shrugged.
“Nothing too,” Phil's thumb jabbed the b button, “y'know, intense?”
Dan blinked. “What?”
“Just -- stress is bad for you, y'know?” He glanced at Dan, “also, did you walk there? Because the doctor said-”
“Right,” Dan said, abruptly realizing what this was, “right, nope, we're not doing this. Pause the game, look at me.”
Of course Phil, Dan's ridiculous, anxious Phil, was thinking like this. Dan had crashed as soon as they finished dinner last night, but Phil probably had spent all night in a google rabbit hole of awfulness. Suddenly, he had a vivid image of them in a year, Dan cradling two screaming infants while Phil tried to diagnose them with WebMD and Dan was useless-
“What?” Phil asked, turning to him, worried, “what, are you in pain? Is there blood, should I-”
“Phil,” Dan grabbed his hands. “Phil, I love you, you know how much I love you, so we're going to have a really direct conversation, because I love you, and because after sixteen years I know we can handle it.”
“Oh,” Phil nodded. “Okay.”
Dan played with Phil's fingers for a moment, taking a deep breath. He had to think about how to phrase this.
“You know I would never push you into something,” Dan said, “I trust your judgement, and I trust you to know what's best for yourself. But it's not just you and us anymore, bubby.”
Phil nodded immediately “it's us and them.”
“Exactly,” Dan squeezed his hands. “I'm 9 weeks into a 40 week pregnancy, assuming everything goes to plan, which it won't, and at the end of it, we're going to have twins, Phil, infants who are going to rely on us for literally everything. We're going to spend the rest of our lives panicked and uncomfortable and making mistakes and-”
Dan's voice shook a little, and he took a deep breath, tried to focus on the now. He wasn't thinking too far in the future, he couldn't if he wanted to stay sane.
“And the next few months are going to suck,” Dan said, getting back to his point, “I'm gonna feel like shit and there's gonna be a lot of doctors, and I hate knowing how scared you're gonna be the whole time.”
He put a hand on Phil's face, touching the corner of his eye, where the shadows were already deeper than the day before. “You can't keep going like this, Phil.”
When they'd had this conversation in the past, Phil had argued. He'd said that the therapy he had already done was enough, that he felt fine, asked and at times outright demanded that Dan back off.
Truly, it was a testament to both Phil's growth and the enormity of the situation that Phil just closed his eyes and leaned heavily into Dan's hand.
Dan stroked his thumb across Phil's cheek. “I need you here, with me, and if you stress yourself out about every little thing, you won't be.”
Phil sighed heavily, then opened his eyes again. “I should go back to therapy.”
A tight lump formed in Dan's throat. “You don't -- I mean, I do think -- I don't want you to do it for me, you should do it for yourself.”
Phil was quiet for a long moment, then said; “you did it for me.”
Dan's chest twisted in a funny way. “You gave me a kick in the ass, but it was for me, in the long run.”
“I know,” Phil's eyes drifted away from Dan's face, to the stomach that everyone seemed so intent on today, “I think this is my kick in the ass.”
Slowly, gently, Dan guided their joint hands down to where his eyes were, where their babies were. “We said we’re gonna do this, yeah? We’re completely changing our lives, and I know we didn’t plan this, but we’re doing it. For the rest of our lives.”
Phil stared at their joint hands, then back at Dan. “I love you. So much. I can’t imagine how scared you are right now, and I can’t take it from you, but I love you. So I'm gonna do my bit, yea? I'm gonna be ready for whatever comes our way, as much as we can be.”
Dan leaned into Phil’s space. “I am scared. I don’t like that something other than me is the most important thing in my body.”
“Incorrect, you’re still the most important,” Phil said, kissing the top of his head. “I think I'm more scared about, like… when they get here. We have a floating staircase, Daniel, who's idea was that?”
Dan was surprised into a laugh “I think that was actually one of your ideas, Philly. We'll teach them to be careful.”
Phil abruptly grew serious. “We need to be careful. I don't want their faces anywhere, or their backs, or- or anything. Our audience never sees them, I'm so serious-”
“We'll give them code names,” Dan agreed, just as seriously. “They're not Dan and Phil's kids, they're just-”
“Kids.” Phil said, pulling Dan closer and squeezing. “Just kids. Our kids.”
Dan buried his face in Phil's chest. “Our kids.” He repeated, softly. “Something that's just ours.”
Only this time, it wasn't a dark, horrible secret, something they were afraid of ruining -- it was just… theirs. Theirs to love and protect. Like a treasure.
Dan took a deep breath, inhaling Phil's scent. His treasures, never to be let go.
Phil stared at the ceiling. They had gone to bed at least two hours ago, and Phil had yet to sleep a wink.
Dan was out, he knew, he could hear his steady breathing next to him. Normally, he would wake him up, but he didn't dare -- Dan needed all the sleep he could get, according to the websites.
The websites, of course, also had devastating numbers and statistics about sudden infant death syndrome and low birth weights in twins and rates of post partum depression in trans people and people who had previous mental health history. It was the kind of stuff Phil knew he shouldn't look at, but he hadn't been able to look away -- he needed this, he had told himself, he needed to know the risks so he could protect his family from them.
His family. The words went through his chest like a ball of sunlight. He had a family, now, one that was bigger than just Dan and his parents and brother. This family was something he made himself, both literally and through years of hard work and struggle.
He had done it. He had loved Dan so much, not to fix him, never to fix him, but he had loved him enough that Dan was willing to do this with him, to jump into the unknown hand in hand.
In the face of that, of Dan literally putting his body on the line, what was so hard about a little therapy?
Except. Well.
Phil groaned softly, rolling over so he could stare at Dan. He remembered when the shoe was on the other foot, when he was begging a younger Dan to get help before he faded away completely, before he went somewhere Phil couldn't reach him.
Phil wasn't sure what he would do, if this was taken away. If he didn't have this man, his man in bed with him, how would he survive? He had to know all the risks, had to prepare himself for anything so that he could keep this safe, so he could keep their babies safe -- what if he missed something? What if he didn't google a suspicious mark and it was deadly cancer? What if he didn't find the best possible baby monitor and they stopped breathing? What if he closed his eyes right now and Dan had a heart attack and-
Dan's eyes scrunched as he fought to stay asleep, then he gave in with a groan. “Mmn, Bubby-”
“I'm sorry,” Phil sobbed, and when had he started gasping for air? “I'm s-sorry, I-”
He'd woken him, he'd woken him and now Dan would backslide and his depression would spike and he wouldn't want to get out of bed and he'd die, he'd die, he'd die-
“Phil,” Dan said, awkwardly patting him with one hand while the other fumbled for the light. “Phil, deep breath, In-”
Phil tried to follow, he did, but his head felt so full. He wanted this, wanted Dan to be with him and be okay, wanted those two little heartbeats he had heard -- he wanted them safe and here and protected and he couldn't protect them like this-
“Phil!”
Dan's voice was stronger now, and light flooded his vision as Dan grabbed him with both hands. The grip was firm, grounding, and Phil's eyes locked on his partner.
“That's it, love, just like that,” Dan said, “follow me, just like that. In, Out, Phil, good job.”
It was easier, with Dan. Everything was easier with Dan.
Slowly, Phil came down. Dan pressed closer to him. “Easy. Easy now.”
He helped Phil sit up, then grabbed the bottle of water from the side table. “Sip.”
After he did, Phil shifted them so he could hold Dan close, bury his nose in his hair. He still smelled like warm, after all these years.
“That was a nasty one,” Dan said, snuggling close. “You okay?”
“Started spiralling,” Phil whispered. “Your right, I do need therapy.”
Dan shifted a little so he could look up at him. “You know that's not what I meant, earlier. You aren't broken.”
Except Phil was. He had a broken, messy, busy brain and-
“We should probably start funds for them now,” Phil joked without much humor. “For when they inevitably need therapy for how much we fuck them up.”
Dan frowned. “Stop it.”
“I can't even make it through a night, Dan-”
“You literally make it through most nights, and I should know, I share a bed with you and wrote a book on the subject.” Dan said firmly. “Babe, I just want you to be okay.”
“But what if I'm not,” Phil said, desperately, “What if I miss something, or I break them, or I- or I get told that I'm not- that I'm so messed up that I-”
“Okay, No.” Dan sat up. “No, stop right there. My turn to talk.”
Phil opened his mouth, and Dan put a hand over it. “I said my turn, you bitch.”
Phil licked his hand, Dan didn't even waver.
“One, that's not how therapy works. You know this, because god knows I've been going long enough, and as a reminder you've had therapy before.”
… okay fine, so that was a pretty solid point.
“Two, the whole reason we do this together, the whole reason we get the help we need now is so that we can give them the best life possible.” Dan said. “Phil, I'm terrified, we're terrified together, but all we can do is our best. Our parents fucked up, when we were kids, just like their parents fucked up when they were kids.”
Dan softened, and he removed his hand so he could stroke Phil's cheek. “You know about my childhood. You know about all the things I swore I'd never let happen to any other kid. If I had even a hint of doubt about you, about your ability to do this with me, I would have already gotten an abortion and we would be moving on with our lives.”
Phil swallowed around a lump in his throat, more tears in his eyes. “What if you're wrong?”
Dan shrugged. “Then I'm wrong. Then in twenty years when they accuse us of irrovocably fucking them up, we can shrug and say we probably did. And then we pay for their therapy bills."
Phil laughed, then sobbed. Then collasped back into Dan's waiting arms.
“I want to be better,” Phil sniffled, “for them, and you, but also for me.”
Dan rocked him a little. “Then you will be. Intention is the first step.”
They sat there for a bit, in their bed, illuminated by the low light of their room, each crying silently.
Finally, Phil pulled away, sniffling. “Will you hold me to it? Like, don't let me dick about for two weeks and then never follow through.”
“Babe, I'm two months pregnant and you woke me up in the midst of a panic attack at two in the morning.” Dan said, voice dry. “I am going to personally call every single mental health practitioner in a twenty kilometer radius until I find you an appointment, and the only reason I haven't already started is because it's before sunrise.”
Phil was shocked into a laugh. “Then I guess we should go back to bed.”
Dan smiled a bit. “Guess we should.”
Dan was drinking a cup of tea, and sitting cross legged in the hallway of their down stairs. They had found a therapist quickly enough -- Phil decided he preferred to do it over zoom, in his safe space, while Dan liked going to a physical office.
He hadn't asked Dan to stay close, but this was where Dan had ended up, staring at the three bedrooms of their lower floor.
One was the “amazingphil” room, with the murphy bed, and then the other two were “their” rooms. The green one with the bamboo where they slept 90% of the time, and Dan's room, with his own closet and bathroom.
Dan was probably supposed to give up his space for the babies. It was that or knock down walls.
The only other options were the movie room and the office, but it wasn't like they could get rid of either of those. And the upstairs had their lounge and their kitchen, a bathroom, but…
Fuck, where were they supposed to go? Did they have to move again, after they had finally gotten their forever home?
Dan groaned softly, leaning his head against the wall behind him and taking another sip of his tea. They still had all sorts of little projects going on -- they had planned to get the builders back in next week to finish some lighting stuff in the kitchen, but the idea of having other people in the house made him feel queasy.
They'd know, somehow, and Dan wasn't sure he was ready for people to know.
The door opened, and Dan glanced up. “How'd it go?”
“Fine.” Phil said, a bit terse, his tone making it clear he didn't want to talk about it yet. He came to sit next to Dan. “I'll have to clear out the amazing Phil room.”
Stupidly, Dan felt himself tear up. “You can't- you don't have to do that."
“Yea I do,” Phil said, rolling his eyes, “at least for now. You aren't sacrificing your room, not until they start complaining about sharing.”
Dan leaned having into Phil's side, sniffling. “I can't believe I'm already crying, I thought I'd make it at least a week before I got so hormonal I'd cry.”
Phil kissed the top of his head. “You cry all the time, especially when you're stressing. About me, the rooms-”
“People knowing,” Dan mumbled, “I -- everyone's gonna look at me soon and know, and they'll all have opinions about me keeping them.”
“Then fuck them,” Phil said immediately, “fuck anyone who thinks we shouldn't have our babies because of gender or whatever.”
“I'm not sure I like my opinions about keeping them.” Dan whimpered. “I - I'm happy, but I regret it, but then I'm happy again? I'm sorry.”
“Don't be sorry, it's complicated.” Phil mumbled, “and you can feel however you want, ok?”
Dan closed his eyes. “Ok.”
They sat there, backs to the wall, a cooling mug of tea between their legs, just leaning on each other. It was quiet.
“Soon, it won't be quiet in this house.” Dan said, “not ever.”
Phil grinned. “Can't wait.”
“Yeah,” Dan smiled, “me neither.”