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Tuesday – 10am
Tommy paced back and forth across the empty living room, ignoring the confused looks of the ancient cat from the spot she’d picked to curl up in on the couch. She wasn’t allowed on the couch, but in his current state, Tommy didn’t care.
It was a Tuesday morning, and he’d called off work sick. He’d been sick a few times over the past couple of days, waking up every morning with a feeling of overwhelming nausea, a lump in his throat making him jump right out of bed and straight to the bathroom. And he usually made it. Usually. There was that one time on the first day that he got the floor and his t-shirt, and he’d made a pathetic attempt to clean it up, but Evan had ordered him into the shower and made sure the place was spotless by the time he got out. He’d even managed to get the t-shirt into the machine before he came back with a massive, fluffy towel.
Evan. Evan was so good at looking after him. He’d left that morning for work, but before he had, he’d crept through with tea (because, as it turned out, even the smell of coffee was making his stomach turn), lightly buttered toast, and a couple of ginger cookies that he’d gotten from the British store down the street. And Tommy didn’t even want to think about what the markup was on those. A bottle of Gatorade was placed on the nightstand, along with the TV remote and strict instructions not to do anything today. No working on the car, no cleaning, no working out, nothing. Just lay there until he felt ready to get up, maybe have a shower to make him feel better, and the furthest he was to go was the living room.
Tommy had ignored the last part. After another session settled in front of the toilet until he’d lost all of his stomach contents, he’d shakily pulled himself up, downed the sugary sweet liquid (which usually he wouldn’t have touched, but today it was like nectar), and got dressed, pulling on a baseball cap, because he knew that if he didn’t and the 118 were on a call nearby, he’d definitely get caught. Because that was how his luck always went.
He had managed to reach the drugstore without stopping too much (standing on the side of the road puking into a drain was not his proudest moment), and he’d crept into the store. Glancing furtively around, he picked up some Tylenol and wet wipes and stood in line. His eyes glanced to his left, and landed on the boxes beside him, a sea of pink and blue, and he grabbed two random ones and threw them in his basket, two thoughts crossing his mind. The first being “this is stupid”, the second saying “you need to put your mind at rest”.
“Next!” The mean-looking woman who almost always got Evan’s prescription wrong, yelled, and Tommy stepped forward. He could see her give him strange looks as she scanned his products, but she said nothing other than to announce his total and say goodbye once they’d finished. He could swear he heard her mutter “good luck” under her breath, but he could have just imagined it.
And now, just over an hour later, he was walking back and forwards in the living room, not able to shake the images of the two plastic items on the back of the toilet cistern. Two tests. Four pink lines.
How could this have even happened? He was forty-one years old, he’d been taking birth control religiously ever since he’d found out he was a carrier. It wasn’t possible.
But apparently, it was.
God, what were his parents going to say? In fact, he knew exactly what they were going to say. His father would disown him. It was bad enough having a queer as a son, but a queer, knocked up, not even married yet son? That would be far too much for him. His mom would try and be supportive, but ultimately would side with her husband, like she always did. The only person that’d actually support him would be his sister, and she was on the other side of the country.
And then there was Evan. How was he even going to tell him? He knew the man loved kids, but one of their own would be totally different to having a niece or nephew running around. Would he even be happy about it? Would he want to postpone the wedding until it was born? Would there even be a wedding now? Would he even want to stay with him?
And even if Evan was happy, how were they going to cope? Because Tommy would probably have to give up his job, there was no way that he could keep doing 24 hour shifts. Even if they made it work so they weren’t on the same rotation, they’d never see each other. Maybe one day off a week together, maybe two if they were lucky. It’d never work out.
And there was absolutely no chance he was going to have an abortion. None. Resting his hand on his stomach, as if he could feel his baby already, he let out a weary sigh, making the cat stare up at him again.
“Hey, it’s OK, Mittens, you’re just gonna have a brother or sister.” That felt strange coming from his lips, and for a moment he didn’t believe it at all. Not until he had to run to the bathroom again.
Sitting on the cold floor again, the idle thought crossed his mind that he should probably get a cushion to keep here, because God knows how long this would last. There were a few extras in the closet, he could probably get one from there, and find a-
His phone buzzed in his pocket, waking him from his thoughts, and he glanced down to see Evan’s contact picture beaming up at him. Pressing the green icon, he placed it to his ear.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Evan’s voice was full of sympathy, and Tommy wanted to tell him right then and there, but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea, not over the phone, not while he was at work. This was definitely a face-to-face conversation.
“Still sick.” Well, that was the truth, at least. He was still on the bathroom floor, still felt like crap, and really wanted to crawl back into bed.
“You managed to keep anything down?” Another voice, Eddie this time, and Tommy shook his head, then remembered that they couldn’t actually see him.
“No, not for long anyway. I think the ginger biscuits helped.” They’d managed to keep it at bay for a little while at least.
“Yeah, they’ll help.” Chimney called. Wait, were they all there? Thank God he hadn’t said anything. “When Maddie was going through morning sickness, that was all she could eat.” He added, and Tommy froze for a moment. “Not that it’s the same thing, obviously.” He added quickly, and Tommy let out a breath. “But just keep hydrated, eat little and often, and rest. Let yourself recover.”
He opened his mouth and started to say “thanks”, but before he could get the first syllable out, the alarm blared through the phone.
“Sorry, we’ve gotta go. I’ll pick up food on the way home tonight, let me know what you want.” The idea of takeout made his stomach turn, but he just said “OK” and hung up, then crawled over to the huge bathtub on the other side of the bathroom. Maybe that would help.
---
Wednesday, 8.30pm
He hadn’t told Evan yet. He’d told his captain at the firehouse, because he didn’t want to do anything to endanger his baby, and been put on light duty until HR could be informed and they figured out what he could and couldn’t do. He’d also called his doctor, who had given him the number for an OB that specialized in male pregnancies. The OB had arranged an appointment for the next day and had assured him that she had plenty of experience and prided herself in running an inclusive clinic. Oh, and he’d blurted it out to his sister when she’d asked him to fly to Vermont for Christmas and wouldn’t take no for an answer until Tommy had finally broken and yelled “because I’ll be seven or eight months pregnant then, that’s why!”. He was just thankful that she’d called when the others were out on a call.
But he hadn’t told Evan. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to (well, maybe a tiny part of him didn’t, but mostly, he did), but there hadn’t been a good time. Tommy had passed out in bed by the time his fiancé came home, and apart from muttered “good nights” and “I love yous”, they’d barely said a word to each other. And Evan was still asleep when Tommy had left for work that morning, volunteering for a 12-hour to make up for the one he’d missed yesterday. So, really, there hadn’t been the opportunity.
But now, parked in the garage, his car engine off, he sat and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had to tell him tonight. The doctor's appointment was tomorrow, and he wasn’t going alone.
“It’s fine, Tommy, you can do this. Just sit him down and tell him. That’s all you need to do. He won’t hate you, he’ll love the idea. It will all be fine.” He murmured to his reflection. And climbing out of his car, he headed into the house and pushed the living room door open slightly.
“Hey, Evan.” He called, but all he got back was a meow and a small groan. And pushing it open more, he realized that Evan wasn’t there, but instead, Mittens was lying all stretched out, her head and her paws resting on a small lap.
“Uncle Tommy?” Jee-Yun asked, still half-asleep, and Tommy crept over to her, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from Mittens.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, feeling himself smile as the four-year-old laid her head on his side and stretched as far as she could to give him a big cuddle.
“Mommy’s sick.” She replied quietly. “Uncle Buck came. We made cookies. Peanut butter ones.”
“Mmm, my favorite!” Tommy said softly.
“I know, made them for you.”
“She insisted.” Tommy glanced up to see Evan standing in the doorway, watching the two people (and cat) that he loved the most, all cuddled in together. “She asked what your favorite was and said that we should make you them because you were at work.” He grinned before striding over to them. “I’ve ordered dinner from the Italian place we liked last time, haven’t had time to cook, everything happened so fast.” He tried to explain. Bending down, he tried to pick up Jee-Yun, but she moaned and snuggled into Tommy even tighter. “Come on, your bed is all ready, my princess.”
“Nooo.” She whined. “Want Uncle Tommy to take me.” And Tommy’s heart just melted at that, wrapping his strong arm around her, making her sigh happily.
“I don’t mind, honestly.” Scooping the preschooler into his arms, he stood up, and she nuzzled into his neck like a kitten. Walking carefully down the hall, he stopped at the spare bedroom and looked inside. Evan had set up an air mattress in the corner, and had brought one of their bedside tables and a lamp from their room, setting it up a safe distance from the mattress. A pink blanket that was probably Jee’s from home was laying on top of the bed, and Tommy gingerly moved it so he could place her down. Straightening himself up, he felt a tug on his pants, and he looked back down to see pleading eyes staring back up at him.
“Stay with me?”
And how could he say no to that face? So, he sat down on the floor beside her and waited until she drifted off to sleep. And then he tried to get up, realized he couldn’t because of the pins and needles in his feet, so stretched out his leg and gazed around the room.
When he’d started to do the place up, which had been a massive job, this room had been left as it was, and it showed. Bare walls were painted a weird burnt orange, the lightbulb hanging down was bare, no shade on it at all. There were no curtains or blinds (God, that kid was gonna be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, maybe he should put a blanket over the window or something), and nothing to make it even resemble a bedroom. At least the carpet was fine, he guessed, but this place was going to have to have a complete makeover, because now they’d need to turn it into a nursery. Neutral colors, maybe a light yellow or a green? He knew Evan would have some ideas anyway, probably research stimulating colors and shapes and design a whole room around them.
“Hey, she asleep?” Evan whispered from the doorway, and Tommy nodded, then watched as Mittens pushed against Evan’s leg and planked herself at the bottom of the air mattress, watching as Jee slept. “Come on, dinner’s here, up you get, old man.” He teased. Tommy tried his best to look indignant, but Evan just laughed and offered him a hand, which he gladly accepted, then dragged him through to the kitchen, where the food had been plated up, chicken fettuccine alfredo for him, and eggplant parmigiana for Evan. Beside the plates were a glass of wine and a glass of water each, and Tommy wondered how long it’d take for Evan to notice that he was only drinking the water.
“So, what happened with Maddie?” Tommy asked, sliding into his chair and picking up his fork, feeling no nausea for probably the first time in days. He was starving, though, and he stabbed a piece of chicken and shoveled it into his mouth.
“Pre-term labor. They managed to stop it, but she’s on bedrest for the next six weeks, and she’s going to be unbearable. And my parents are coming to stay until the baby is born, so that’ll make it a million times worse.” Evan explained, glancing at Tommy suspiciously as he sipped his water. “She’s staying in hospital tonight, and should be home tomorrow. My parents are picking Jee up when they get here tomorrow morning.”
The Buckley parents, fantastic, Tommy thought, remembering the last time he’d met them, back and Maddie and Chim’s wedding. They hadn’t been terrible , but they’d barely spoken to him, instead pulling Evan to the side and talking to him about something that made Evan look mad. As much as Tommy had tried, Evan had refused to tell him what it had been about, but he assumed it was about their new relationship.
“I feel bad that the spare room is kinda bare, for her, though.” He sighed. “We could decorate it for when she comes to visit, or if Eddie has a date and Chris wants to stay. Paint, get a proper bed, some furniture, maybe some toys...I saw this cute little dollhouse at the thrift store a few days ago, I really should have gotten it for her. Maybe it’ll still be there tomorrow.” He rambled, and Tommy felt himself smile, his eyes crinkling as Evan started making grand plans for the room. “A bookcase, maybe a desk...” He listed. “What do you think?”
“Oh, you’re asking what I think now?” Tommy teased. “Well, you know, I was thinking about the room when I was stuck on the floor, and I know what we could do with it.” He could feel his heart beating fast as Evan looked at him curiously. “I think we could turn it into a nursery.” Evan’s jaw dropped, and he furrowed his brow slightly.
“I, uh, I didn’t know you wanted kids. I mean, I didn’t assume you didn’t, I just, we haven’t really talked about it.” He replied hurriedly. “But yeah, we could do that. Once we get married, I guess we can look into adoption or fostering. Hen and Karen have contacts and-”
“What if we don’t have to wait that long?” Tommy heard his voice waver, then chuckled slightly as Evan’s face contorted into confusion.
“What are you saying? You want to look into it sooner or...?” He trailed off, and Tommy reached over the table, placing his hand over Evan’s.
“I’m saying that we might only have to wait maybe seven or eight months.” Tommy said meaningfully, then waited until the pieces clicked into place. Evan’s jaw dropped, and immediately, he stood up, grabbed Tommy’s wine glass and poured the contents down the sink.
“You-you’re serious? You’re pregnant?” Evan exclaimed, and Tommy nodded. “But you’re on...”
“Yeah, apparently it doesn’t work if you’re on antibiotics.” Tommy replied, remembering the time around six weeks ago when he’d had a throat infection and had been on amoxicillin. “So, yeah, how do you feel about being a dad?”
Wordlessly, Evan gestured for Tommy to stand up, and as soon as he did, he felt arms wrap tightly around him and a head on his shoulder. “I’m guessing that’s a good sign?”
“I love you, and I am going to love this little one.” Evan whispered, moving one hand and laying it on Tommy’s still flat stomach. “Are you happy, though?”
Tommy thought for a moment. He had gone through denial, shock, terror, anxiety and a whole lot of other emotions in the past 34 hours, but now, now he could really say that he was happy. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride, especially at his age, but hey, people had babies older than him all the time. They could get through it, together.
“I am, Evan. I am.” He murmured, letting himself melt into his fiancé's arms. “But your Christmas wedding might have to be put on hold.” He admitted.
“Or moved to a fall wedding. We can plan a wedding in three months, right?” Tommy wanted to say that three months might be cutting it a little fine, but then he remembered who he was dealing with here. If anyone could pull it off, it’d be the 118 (and knowing Harbor, they’d help in any way they could, too).
“Three months is definitely doable.” He reassured Evan. “Let’s start planning the rest of our lives together tomorrow.”