Chapter Text
To say that Killian Jones had a crush on Robin Locksley was something of an understatement.
In truth, he’d probably been half in love since he first laid eyes on the man, some two years ago at a party at his sister Regina’s house. Robin’s laughing blue eyes had immediately drawn Killian’s attention and his charming sense of humor sealed the deal.
They became good friends over time, but Killian never pushed for more than that; he knew Robin was an ex of Regina’s, and while he didn’t rightly care what his sister thought or said about the matter, he was fairly sure that Robin just wasn’t interested.
So, tonight, when they were the last ones at the party and completely drunk, the fact that Robin had decided making out would be a fun pastime was more than he could believe.
And when they spent the rest of the night making love—multiple times, in multiple positions—he thought he must be dreaming.
But when he awoke the next day feeling sore in all the right places, sprawled on a mattress with a familiar dirty blond head beside him, he was more than happy to realize it’d actually happened.
And Robin’s ensuing nonchalant attitude about the previous night also brought him crashing back to reality: it was just a one-night fling.
So he swallowed his pride and played along, acting as casual as possible while redressing and wishing his memories of the event were a little less hazy.
They went back to their normal, easy friendship after that, though maybe with a bit more avoidance than usual on Killian’s end. It was just easier that way.
Until the day several weeks later when Robin called him in a panic, blurting out “I’m pregnant.”
To say that Robin had a thing for Killian would also be a gross underestimation.
He’d been longing to bury his fingers in the other man’s shaggy dark locks and kiss his supple lips since they first met, but there was no way his ex-girlfriend’s brother would ever cast him a second glance—not in that way, at least. But the first time Killian sang and threw a wide, dimpled grin Robin’s way, he was a goner.
He was mildly ashamed that he required booze to make a move, but he didn’t regret it in the slightest, or their passionate night together. Until morning arrived and he hadn’t a clue how to act, so he played it safe—like it wasn’t all that earth-shattering. (Which it most definitely was.)
Killian did the same, so Robin took that as his answer and moved on. Life somehow went back to normal, as if his world hadn’t been shifted on its axis that night—more than he realized, really. He found himself staying a bit farther away from Killian, and their whole circle of friends, for a while, just so he couldn’t be reminded of what he was missing.
Then he got sick, and truly couldn’t hang out. Or keep food down, or see an adorable animal without crying. It wasn’t until he found himself wandering aimlessly in the diaper aisle of the store that he realized what was going on—and made a beeline for the pharmacy section.
Some hours later, a little white stick confirmed it: he was pregnant. And it was Killian’s.
He was waiting for the answer on the other end of the phone before he’d even realized he’d dialed it. But what else was he to do but call Killian right away? At the very least, he deserved to know he’d fathered a child; but maybe something else could come of it.
“Hello?” Killian finally answered, tentatively.
“Killian, hi, I…” Oh bloody hell, what was he supposed to say? Out with it, he supposed. “Um, I’m pregnant.”
A long silenced followed his revelation, during which he was sure his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. Finally, Killian said, “You’re...you’re what?”
“I’m...yeah. Pregnant. I just found out.”
“I...I see.”
Anxiety quickly turned to anger. “That’s all? You just...see?” How was that his only reaction? Or were Robin’s emotions already running haywire?
“I...I’m at work right now, Robin. I can’t talk about this right now. I just...I can’t.” And he hung up without another word.
Robin stared at the now-black screen for a long, long moment, letting the weight of Killian’s statement settle in. He knew Killian well enough to know what he was saying: he couldn’t just talk then—he couldn’t do this. At all.
Everything he thought he knew about Killian was suddenly turned on its head. He thought he was a man of honor, driven by love—he saw the way he doted on Regina, and knew how much they both missed their older brother. Killian was soft and caring. So this? This didn’t make any sense.
But if that was what he wanted, then fine. Robin was more than capable of doing this on his own.
He tossed his phone to the side and instead, placed his hand over his stomach, where he now knew life was growing. “I promise you, little one—nothing and no one’s gonna hurt you, ever.”
Killian stared blankly at his computer screen for a long, long time after hanging up on Robin. His heart had jumped when he saw who was calling, and then it crashed through the floor once Robin had told him the news.
He didn’t want Killian. He just wanted his baby to have a father. And Killian didn’t know if he could handle just being a baby daddy.
Oh, bloody hell—he was a father. He’d sworn he’d never abandon a child like his own father had done them, and here he was about to do the same.
No—he wasn’t his father. But he had too much self-respect to not be with someone out of love.
He’d be there for his kid, but he couldn’t commit to Robin if it wasn’t mutual.
Still, though—he was going to be a father. He was...oh, he was going to be sick.
He made a beeline through his office to the bathroom, where the remnants of his lunch made an unexpected reappearance. Robin’s announcement had definitely left him feeling off, so he called out the rest of the day—there was nothing pressing in the GPS system world where they couldn’t do without him for a few hours—and headed home to try to wrap his head around the situation and figure out what to do. (And work up the nerve to call Robin back.)
Except by the time he got home, all he wanted to figure out was what the bottom of a rum bottle looked like. (He knew, of course—that was how they ended up in this position in the first place—but it still seemed like the best option.)
However, that wouldn’t stay down, either. Nor would the pizza he had delivered. Maybe he was more upset by this than he realized. Or maybe he was just getting sick.
Thank God it was Friday.
The rest of the weekend passed in something of a fog, though at least it wasn’t liquor-induced. He spent the whole time traveling between his bed and the toilet, losing whatever he managed to get down. By the time Sunday evening arrived, he felt like death warmed over.
He was passed out near the toilet when Regina found him that night. “Killian! Killian, what’s wrong?” she worried, gently shaking him awake.
“Jus’ don’ feel good…’m fine,” he slurred while lying badly.
“Fine people aren’t unconscious in their bathrooms. Are you hungover?” She sniffed the air around him as if to answer her own question.
“No...no rum. Couldn’t keep it down.” Even in his hazy state, he could tell that his voice sounded awful.
Regina gave him a concerned gaze before standing up. “Come on; I’m taking you to the ER.”
He was too weak to protest, so just let her help him up and out to her car. He caught a whiff of the Chinese takeout she’d brought for dinner and it took all his efforts to not be sick again—not like there was anything to come up at this point.
He was vaguely aware of the ride to the hospital and being taken into the back. Regina knew the answers to all his medical questions anyway, so once he was in a bed, he let sleep take him away again.
Until he sat bolt upright out of a dead sleep sometime later. Regina was reading something on her phone in the chair next to his bed, and a tugging on his arm drew his attention; he was hooked up to an IV.
His movement drew Regina’s attention. “How you feeling?” She asked, setting her phone aside.
“Better,” he murmured, falling back into the pillows. “Thanks for bringing me here. What’d they say?”
Regina was smirking; what the hell did that mean? “Well, you were severely dehydrated,” she started. “Do you know why?”
The way she said it made it seem like he should know, but he hadn’t a clue. “I imagine I picked up a stomach bug.”
“You could say that,” she continued, coming to his side. “Killian...you’re pregnant.”
Regina was smiling, but Killian wondered if she was going mad. “What did you say?”
“You heard right,” she confirmed, placing her hand over his midsection. “You’re having a baby, Killian!”
He swallowed deep; he was pregnant too? His gaze turned to his stomach, where his hand rested next to his sister’s. “I’m...I’m…” He couldn’t even say it.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Are...aren’t you excited?”
“I...don’t know if that’s the word I’d use just yet.” Terrified, scared, confused, disbelieving—all seemed to fit better.
“Oh, come on—you’re gonna be amazing,” she assured him. “I don’t mean to pry, but can I ask: who’s the other father?”
And then it hit him: Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. They were both pregnant? How on earth was he supposed to tell Robin that?
He couldn’t. Not without it seeming like the very thing Robin tried to do to him.
Fuck.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, looking away from Regina.
“Huh,” she said, pulling her hand back. “It’s funny; Robin’s pregnant, too, and he told me the same thing.”
Bloody fuck.
Regina made sure he got home okay, with doctors instructions on how to avoid any further ER trips, but then he was alone again.
But he wasn’t, not really.
Curled up on the couch, he set his hand on his stomach, now all too aware of what was happening inside him. “I promise you, love, you’ll never have to worry about being alone; I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
Robin’s calls and texts to Killian continued to go unanswered, so after a couple weeks, he gave up. He knew a rejection when he saw one, and while it went against everything he thought he knew about his crush, he had to let it go and move on. It wasn’t just about him anymore.
A fact that was blatantly shoved in his face rather quickly, when his jeans stopped fitting properly. He rushed to the bathroom and stood sideways to the mirror, and that’s when he saw it: an ever so slight bump. “Hello there, darling,” he cooed, tracing the small curve. He was nearly late to work, he spent so long staring at it. It became a recurring problem as his stomach expanded week after week.
Thankfully, once the initial nausea passed, everything about the pregnancy went smooth. His doctor said everything was normal at his appointments, he had plenty of energy, and he had a great support system, save for the one person he was still missing. (He knew he shouldn’t, but he could at least blame that on hormones.)
But it was so hard to not ask after Killian during his weekly lunch dates with Regina, who was already referring to herself as the baby’s aunt—something he didn’t dare to confirm or deny.
And when his ankles were swollen after a day on his feet manning the bar at his pub, he longed for someone at his side to massage them, even if Will, one of his employees, had stepped up to make sure he got regular breaks.
Neither of them, however, could do anything to help him deal with the overactive libido that also came with pregnancy. He definitely had to handle that part on his own, and he couldn’t help it if the memory of a certain someone beneath him—someone with piercing blue eyes and shaggy dark hair—came to mind when he was chasing his own release.
After coming down from the high of orgasm, he’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to shake thoughts of Killian from his mind. But it was no use. The heart wanted what it wanted. Maybe he’d just have to work up the nerve to confront Killian...but he wasn’t sure he could take that kind of rejection again.
Eventually, he’d either drift off, or be kept up further by the wriggling, kicking thing inside him. It was fascinating, really, feeling the tiny babe moving around and exploring its surroundings, minimal as they were. By the time he hit 24 weeks, he’d definitely outgrown most of his clothes, save for his baggiest shirts and sweats, and it was quite clear he was expecting. But he knew that he and his child were far from done growing, and honestly, he was kind of thrilled for it.
And desperately wished his child’s father could experience some of this, too.
The one true complaint he had regarded his child’s desire for the oddest foods at the oddest hours. He knew the potato chip addiction he’d cultivated over the past several weeks did nothing to help the swollen ankle problem, but the kid wanted what it wanted. And tonight, at 11:42 pm, it wanted dill pickle-flavored crisps.
With no other options, Robin hauled himself back out of bed, tossed on some clothes, and headed out to the 24-hour market down the street. The clerk there was starting to recognize him, and gave a curt nod when Robin entered and made a beeline for the snack aisle.
The closer he got, the more the baby started kicking up a storm. He massaged his belly as he searched for what he needed, murmuring, “I know, I know, darling—Daddy’s looking for them.”
Finally, his eyes fell on the package and he reached for them, but his hand collided with another as he grabbed for the bag.
Wait—he knew the rings on those fingers.
Shocked, he pulled back and looked up, and there he was: Killian, looking equally jarred.
And, as Robin’s eyes drifted down, equally as pregnant.
Killian was excited to be a father, as complicated as the situation was, but being pregnant...well, he was less enthused about that.
Maybe if he had that classic pregnancy glow about him, he’d be a little more excited about the experience. Maybe if he wasn’t constantly exhausted. Maybe if he didn’t have to visit the toilet after every meal just to lose most of it.
“The sicker you are, the healthier the baby,” Granny assured him as she handed over his take-out order at her diner (grilled cheese with anchovies and apples; for some reason, that was the only thing that would stay down).
“Then this kid will be immune to everything,” he tossed back.
He didn’t have to make any more visits to the ER, thankfully, but it was some time before he actually put on any weight like he was supposed to. That, combined with the fact that his family carried everything out in front of them, meant that his child made its presence known far sooner than average.
In a weird way, it was pretty cool. He loved to trace his bump and sing to it whenever he got the chance, and the day he started feeling kicks in response to his voice, he broke down sobbing, and not just because of his roller coaster emotions.
Other than Regina, this baby would be his only family. Their parents were gone, and their older brother had died a while ago. So to bring another person into the world to share his love with was more than a little overwhelming. It was impossible for him to hide the happy tears whenever Regina got excited about feeling her niece or nephew moving around.
Regina oddly never brought Robin up in their conversations, which had to be a conscious decision on her part, given how close the two still were. But Killian was also cautious to not enquire, lest Regina suspect anything—even though the more his pregnancy progressed, the more curious he was about Robin’s.
Was he this sick, too? How was the baby? Was he showing as much? What was he craving? Did he miss him?
Well, Killian was pretty sure he knew the answer to that one. The first couple weeks after his ER trip, Killian hadn’t been very good about communicating with anyone other than his boss and sister; it was something of a blur. So he knew he’d missed messages from Robin, but he took the fact they’d stopped coming as a sign.
And yet, the longing didn’t abate. He still wanted Robin. Memories of their shared night replayed vividly in his dreams, along with other fantasies that woke him aroused and panting. Even just the thought of his laugh, his voice, his companionship made Killian want to drive over to his place.
One night, at around the 6-month mark, such thoughts were flooding his brain to the same speedy tempo his child was keeping as it kicked within. But it was too late to do anything about it...and he was craving something salty. So he instead drove over to the only shop open past midnight, waved a hello at the clerk, and wandered around in search of a snack.
He had to stop a few times to massage the site of a particularly rough jab from his belly’s inhabitant. “Calm down, love; I’m still searching.” His reassurance didn’t do much good.
Until he found himself in the chip aisle and set eyes on them: dill pickle crisps. His mouth watered instantly and he made a grab for the bag—at the same time another hand did.
Killian instinctively pulled back and was about to apologize, but his jaw dropped when he saw Robin staring back at him with a shell-shocked expression.
“Bloody hell,” Robin finally murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Killian sighed and rolled his eyes at the greeting. “It’s lovely to see you too again, mate,” he answered somewhat cheekily. Like it or not, they probably needed to have a conversation. “Let’s...can we get the crisps and then go somewhere to chat?”
“Yeah, that’s...that’s a good plan,” Robin agreed, unable to take his gaze from Killian’s belly. Suddenly self-conscious, Killian covered it (well, as much as he could) with his hand.
“Come on.”
Robin could really only stare as Killian grabbed the chips from the shelf and started back down the aisle, then had to jog to keep up with him. It was still sinking in—Killian was pregnant, too. Apparently from the same encounter. For a moment, he thought it was awfully smug of him to assume the child was his, but Killian’s response didn’t refute the theory.
Wordlessly, he joined Killian at the counter as he paid for the chips and they both ignored the leery grin the clerk was giving them, glancing between the two of them.
“I ship it,” the usually grumpy man said as he handed Killian his change. Killian just arched an expressive eyebrow at him, grabbed the coins, and headed out.
Robin trotted after, following Killian to his car. “I, uh,” Killian stammered, adorably scratching that spot behind his ear his fingers seemed drawn to when he was nervous. “I can drive us over to your place, if you want.”
“I...yeah, that works.” The ensuing car ride was both awkward and somehow perfect. The weight of the coming conversation hung over them, but at the same time, when Robin closed his eyes, it wasn’t hard to imagine this as a normal occurrence—just two men in love, sating their cravings together. (There had to be some significance to the fact that they had both gone for the same thing, right?)
In no time at all, though, Killian was parked in front of Robin’s apartment building and they were getting out. And then he led them up to his place, directing Killian to the couch, where he joined a moment later with a glass of water for each of them. Killian had already dug into the chips, so Robin took a handful and sat on the sofa next to him.
“So.”
“So.”
Neither was sure who should go first. But just when Robin was about to speak again, Killian started.
“Look, I’m sorry I never returned your calls. And I’m sorry I shot everything down in the first place. It was part due to the shock of your news, and then the shock of my own. But I…” He trailed off, staring at the coffee table, and took a deep breath before continuing. “The thing is, I don’t want to just be together because of the baby. Well, babies,” he corrected, resting his large hand on his round stomach, and Robin was thinking that he’d never seen anything more beautiful. He looked back up and stared intensely at Robin. “I like you, quite a bit and for quite some time. That night we shared together...I treasure it. But I don’t want to be together just because we were too drunk to use condoms. I want to be together because you like me, too.”
Robin sniffled. He hadn’t even realized how emotional he was getting over Killian’s declaration, but given how long he’d been waiting to hear words like that, who could blame him? It wasn’t until his baby gave a sharp jolt to his ribs that he realized Killian was waiting for a response; it was as if the baby was trying to urge him on, or just somehow knew that was its father.
“Killian, I get it,” he started, voice more watery than he’d like. “If it had been the other way around, I probably would have done the same thing. I know I’ve never been very forthright with my feelings, but…” Now it was his turn to breathe, even if Killian had done the hard part of this conversation. “I like you, too. A lot. And I wanted to be with you long before these babies came around.”
Emotional declarations clearly were not made to be done while pregnant, because now Killian was the one with tears brimming his eyes. (Those beautiful blue eyes...he hoped at least one of their kids inherited those.) “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying it because of...this?” Killian asked, gesturing between their midsections.
Robin shifted over, eliminating the gap that had been between them. “Why do you think I made a move on you that night? I wasn’t that drunk, but I definitely used the alcohol as help. I’ve liked you for years; I just never thought you’d look at me that way.”
Killian reached up and cupped Robin’s face. “Darling, I’ve always looked at you that way.” And then he surged forward and claimed Robin’s lips with his.
Robin didn’t hesitate a moment in responding in kind, his hands immediately finding their way into Killian’s (longer, thicker) hair. As incredible as their shared night had been, this was a million times more special—this time, there were no barriers or inhibitions. It was just them and their feelings for each other and the thrill of what lay ahead.
They were just starting to get lost in the kiss when another stabbing kick struck him hard, making him jump back. “Really? You just had to interrupt, didn’t you?” he playfully scolded his belly, massaging the now-sore spot high on his stomach.
But when he looked up, Killian was doing the same thing in the same spot. “It’s like they knew,” he chuckled, cradling his belly and glancing over at Robin’s.
It was almost instinctive—Robin was moving before he realized what he was doing, and his free hand was hovering over Killian’s bump. “Can I…?” he asked, suddenly hesitating; he hated when people (usually drunk customers) tried to make a grab at him.
“Only if I can, too,” Killian replied, grinning.
It did feel a little weird at first, having another person’s hand on his belly (well, other than Regina, which he had to assume was the same case for Killian). And it was equally odd feeling a kicking babe that was inside someone else.
But when those first taps hit his palm from within Killian—and he could feel the simultaneous ones against Killian’s hand—he couldn’t hold back the happy tears anymore.
“Daddy’s here, little one.” “Your Papa is right here, love.” They spoke at the same time to the other’s belly, then dissolved into laughter right away.
“Well, at least we won’t be fighting about that,” Robin quipped. “Papa?”
Killian shrugged and blushed. “It’s what my mum called her father.”
“It’s perfect. You’re going to be a brilliant papa.”
“And you’ll be an amazing daddy.”