Work Text:
Adoption was easy. Until it was hard. When they had adopted Vera, they had gone through the normal channels. They were married, so it was easy. They had registered their interest and had been matched to Vera, and three months after she was born she came to them. After two years of legislation pre-birth adoptions had become more popular and a woman had decided to have her baby adopted by Nick and Harry as soon as he was born. There were still checks to be done, and the birth mother had 12 weeks to change her mind, but as soon as Pavel was born, she had handed him over. He was six weeks premature.
Nick and Harry had asked for a younger child so that their two and a half year old daughter didn’t suddenly have an older or closer age sibling. They had been told that the baby boy would be born on September 16th, and Nick had planned it to be ready by then….
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It was August the 5th.
“Take a nice picture, get the Gherkin in the background.” Harry held up Vera and pulled out his tongue while Nick went to snap the picture. Just as he was about to take it, the phone rang.
“Hello?” He tried to keep his face neutral but Harry knew him inside and out.
“What’s the matter? Who is it? Is it Sophie?”
Sophie was their adoption liaison worker and it was her. Nick held up his hand to calm Harry. “Yeah. Okay we’re on our way. Can we bring Vera or shall we drop her off? Ok. Ok, bye.” He looked into Harry’s panicked eyes. “The baby’s been born love, he’s..he’s early and he’s in paediatric ICU. Aimee and Ian’ll have Vera. They said they would once he was born.”
They drove to Aimee and Ian’s, dropped off Vera, and went straight to the hospital in a daze. They barely spoke in the car - Harry asked for more information and Nick didn’t have it. When they arrived at the hospital they were held in a private room, Sophie the only person who could verify who they were.
Harry’s leg was shaking, his teeth were gritted, and he clenched his hands together. Nick just paced. He wanted to comfort his husband but he was too nervous and pathetic himself. In the end he dug his nails deep into the flesh of his palm to stop himself from crying and took a deep breath at the pain before sitting next to Harry and holding him tightly. “It will be fine darlin’. babies are born early every day. They know exactly what to do.” Nick didn’t believe his own words, but at times like this he remembered how much younger Harry was than him. He had to make sure he stayed positive. “What are we going to call him babe? What names do you like?”
Harry took a deep breath. “I don’t know, maybe..Thomas? Sam? Something normal. I like normal right now.”
Nick nodded. “I like it. Sam. I like Sam.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Sophie come into the waiting room. She sat next to Harry and put her own arm round his shoulder.
“Okay, he’s been born prematurely. He’s 4 pounds 7 and he is getting help with his breathing via a machine. But he’s what we call moderately pre-term and he’s doing well. They hope to have him breathing on his own very soon and feeding soon after…”
“Is his mum alright?” Harry piped up.
Sophie smiled. “She’s fine.”
“What’s her name?”
Sophie paused. “Her name is….Irina.”
Harry nodded. “Is she Polish?”
“Russian. Anyway, the status of the baby is that - “
Most of what Sophie said, Nick didn’t take in. He just knew that his son was going to survive and that was all he cared about. There were things he picked up on like ‘development’ and ‘issues’ but he wasn’t interested as long as his boy was going to live. “When can we see him?” he heard himself saying although he was pretty sure he was interrupting Sophie.
“You can see him now.”
Nick looked at Harry, who seemed frozen to the spot. “Come on love, we can see our little lad. Are you coming?”
Harry took a deep breath and stood up, letting Nick grip his arm as he wobbled a bit. “Yeah. I want to see him, I want him to know we’re here.”
They walked silently to the paediatric ICU. Inside they saw three cots, two with pink blankets and one with a blue one. Harry went over to the cot with the blue blanket.
“Oh no, it’s this one, Harry.” Sophie pointed at a plastic ICU cot with a tiny baby in a pink blanket. “They weren’t expecting him, and they could only find a pink one.”
Nick and Harry shared a wry smile. “Just like his dad, Hazza, looks great in pink.”
They glanced into the cot to see their son, and Nick brushed a finger over the plastic lid.
“Does he have a name? We’re calling him Baby Styles-Grimshaw but it’s a bit of a mouthful.” Sophie picked up her iPad which had their data on it.
Nick lifted his head. “Yeah, it’s going to be Sam.”
“No!” Harry turned to her quickly. “No, it should be a Russian name, he’s Russian.”
Nick grimaced, and he was about to say ,”No, actually it doesn’t have to be Russian at all.” But Harry’s face had that resolute look. “Okay babe, what name then?”
Harry furrowed his brow. “I don’t really know about Russian names, do you? Can we Google it?”
“Can’t have the phone on in here...what about…” Nick tried to remember the only Russian name he knew that wasn’t Igor. “Pasha? Like that dancer from Strictly?”
Harry smiled wide and nodded. “I love it. Pasha Peter Desmond Robin Styles-Grimshaw.”
“Mouthful..” Nick muttered, but didn’t object. “Nice one, write it down Soph, before we forget it.”
Harry’s long fingers were stroking the top of the cot, and Nick grasped them, meeting his gaze. “He’ll be fine babe, he’s a gorgeous little thing, and he’s got a big, beefy name to be going on with.”
Harry smiled and squeezed Nick’s hand back. “Pasha. Welcome to the world.”