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Shawn wakes up to warm hands on his belly. He blinks sleepily and stretches and rolls over.
Franz looks at him, eyes blue and overly fond. His blond hair curls around his jawline, against his cheekbones.
“Good morning,” Shawn says with a yawn, and Franz moves his hands up and down his back. “Can you go back to touching my stomach? It feels nice.”
Franz hums in response, low, against the back of his throat and obliges willingly. Usually, before their daughter, Franz would touch him like this when he couldn’t sleep. Now, Shawn doesn’t want to wake up.
He presses his noise into Shawn’s cheek, sighing pleasantly. “I have a shift soon,” he reminds, voice heavily accented, as it always is as he just wakes up. It’s thick, and it takes Shawn’s tired brain a moment to even comprehend what he was saying.
“What? Really? Just tell them you can’t fight fires today, I need you on a special case. Official psychic detective—or police business. Police business sounds better. Official psychic police business,” he rambles. He grabs lazily at Franz, at his hips and arms and muscled sides and falls in love with him all over again.
Franz kisses the corner of his mouth, softly, carefully, like Shawn might break if he goes to hard, like he is something special, something fragile, something he needs to cherish. Nobody but him has ever treated him this way. It’s always been fast and loud and hard and animalistic and leaves his head spinning and his mind craving more. Of course, there are times where Franz can be just as hard as he is gentle, but he never forgets how to be soft. “I know,” he says, “the one time there isn’t a screaming baby and I can’t even enjoy it. Such is life.”
“Dude. Am I really tired or did you just quote poetry?” he asks, making a face at him.
Franz chuckles, and Shawn feels warmth spread across his chest. “I think both. And do not ‘dude’ me, I’ve been inside you.”
Shawn wriggles his hips experimentally. “I wish you were inside me now.”
Franz hits his chest and kisses his forehead. “Not now. Tonight, maybe? If you aren’t tired. Or— if you are tired. I’ll go slow.”
Going slow during sex was not a thing Shawn even knew was really possible before Franz. He is always fast, fast to talk, fast to move, fast to think. His brain works hundreds of miles an hour and sometimes he wants sex to be over faster so he can do other things, so he doesn’t need to care anymore. Franz is slow, and as gentle as always and adapts to whatever speed Shawn needs. He can go fast and hard and he can slow and soft and he can do anything in between. He’ll switch positions on a whim, and can handle role play; kinks Shawn didn’t even want to think about, breakdowns that came so unexpected before and after a climax all Shawn could do is turn away.
“Sounds good. I’m gonna remind Gus today that I have an awesome boyfriend and he’s still single,” he says.
He whines at the loss of contact as Franz gets up and out of bed, but ultimately decides that watching him get dressed is better than nothing.
Shawn watches the contours of his body, the sharp dip of his shoulder blades, the dark patch of hair running from his navel to underneath his tight boxers, his hair shining in the silvering morning sunlight.
He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and he’s all Shawn’s.
“Don’t torture Gus because of my— sake? Is that—? Sake,” Franz tries. He runs the sentence around in his head before waving it off dismissively. “You know what I’m saying.”
“I’ve heard it both ways,” he remarks.
Franz pulls his jeans up, then throws one of his shirts on. He leans down and kisses Shawn’s bare chest.
“I’m sure you have. I love you,” he says.
Shawn slides himself to the side of the bed, and finally forces himself to sit up. “Love you too.”
Franz kisses him again, cradling his face in between his large hands, and leaves the room.
Shawn sits, tired and drunk on his boyfriend, and only manages to pull up his jeans before Franz returns, baby in his arms, swaddled in a seahorse blanket.
“No crying, Meike, isn’t that right?” babbles Franz. He’s smiling down at their daughter, and Shawn cannot believe this is his life; that is his boyfriend, that is their little girl.
“Give her here,” Shawn says, outstretching his arms, and making a ‘come here’ motion with his hands.
Franz obeys, slipping her carefully into Shawn’s arms. Meike stares up at him, eyes brown and big.
Franz sits beside him on the bed, thighs touching. “She’s growing up so fast,” he muses, knocking his head against Shawn’s. “Wish she could stay this size forever.”
Shawn snorts. “With all that screaming? I haven’t had a good nights sleep since last year.” He brushes his thumb softly over her cheek, and she grabs onto it with her tiny hands.
Franz rubs his back, Shawn leans into it, trying to get his hand in between each divot of his spine. “That was all the throwing up you did. The crying came later.”
Meike babbles and waves her arms. That’s his daughter. That’s his little girl. Shawn isn’t sure how he got so lucky. Sure, all the vomiting and late night cravings wasn’t fun—it was downright horrible, it was hard. Yet, Franz was there to hold his hand the entire time, and he got his daughter out of the deal, and maybe it was all worth it.
“Can your dad take her?” Franz wonders.
Shawn groans. “Yeah, he can. We have to stop giving our daughter to my dad, I swear she’s gonna end up being a little him.”
“My parents are in Europe, and you won’t hire a babysitter,” Franz reminds. His hand stops in between Shawn’s shoulder blades, then slides down.
“I’m not going to trust some stranger with Meike. I barely trust her with my dad,” Shawn responds. “Isn’t that right, Meike?”
Meike looks at him, quiet.
“She gets it,” Shawn says.
“Of course she does.” Franz looks between them for a moment, he looks at his little baby and his boyfriend and his smile changes ever so slightly, softer. “As much as I love seeing your chest, you need to put a shirt on so we can get over to your dad’s before Gus calls and asks you where you are.”
“It’s one of my best features,” he says, nudging him slightly, and he’s all broad and warmed shouldered.
“Don’t I know it— or whatever you say.”
Franz gives Meike a bottle while Shawn tug his shirt over his head combs his hair. Then, they strap her into her carseat and drive to his dad’s.
“Your half brother won’t kill you, he’s fifteen,” Franz remarks as he parks the car, and Shawn watches the trees cover the sides of his dad’s house in spots of morning bright sunlight.
Shawn shuffles in his seat. “I know he won’t kill me. I never said he would.”
Franz reaches over and grabs Shawn’s thigh, and squeezes it in a way that’s supposed to be reassuring but Shawn’s sex life has dramatically decreased since Meike was born and he’s so pent up his brain processes it as sexually.
It’s not like they don’t have sex. They do. Not as much as before, though. Before, Shawn could fuck or get fucked whenever he pleased. He would cry sometimes, and sometimes he would whine into Franz’ shoulder until he came with shuddering gasps, and sometimes he wouldn’t stop talking until Franz had pulled out and cleaned them up and kissed him silly. Shawn misses that, having sex whenever he wants. Now there’s a baby and his dad always appearing to help (which Shawn wasn’t even aware his dad could do! Help without being asked.) and for those first couple weeks his sex drive was so low nothing could turn him on.
Even now, with the okay from the doctor from months ago, their sex life hasn’t returned back to normal. Shawn needs to change that. Otherwise he’s going to go crazy.
“The baby,” Franz reminds, because he can always pick up on things Shawn feels. It’s kind of scary actually, having somebody who isn’t Gus or his dad be able to do that.
Then again, Franz is the one Shawn wants to spend the rest of his life with. It’s only fitting that he can do what the people who were already closest to him can do.
“We can make another,” Shawn suggests, unserious, yet he still spreads his legs out a little wider. “Let Meike stay overnight at my dad’s.”
Franz things for a moment, sticking his tongue out like he always does when he’s thinking. “Fine. Okay. Yeah. Protection, though. You just got back on T. I missed shaving with you.”
Shawn runs his hand over Franz’s stubble. “When have you ever shaved?”
Franz raises his eyebrows. “I could say the same for you.”
Meike makes noise from the backseat, and they glance back at her.
“Are you ready to see your grandpa, Mi?” asks Franz as he unbuckles himself, gets out of the car, unbuckles her and puts her in the top part of the pram—the part with the handle and no wheels, the part Shawn can never remember the name of, other than the fact that ‘pram’ is such a funny and European word he has to use it—
“The Jury’s still out on ‘grandpa’,” says Shawn, following him out of the car, “he’s more like that scary bald guy who looks after her when her dads need to work.”
Franz gives Shawn a look, then goes back to his daughter. “Opa. Your Opa, Meike. Is that better, Shawn?”
“Not really. And stop trying to make her first language German. How is she going to learn all the words to The Power of Love if she speaks German?”
Franz furrows his eyebrows as they reach the front door. “Why is her not knowing a Huey Lewis and the News song your biggest concern?” he questions.
“Because it’s awesome, duh,” says Shawn as he opens the door and lets himself in.
Franz is a little more cautious whenever he has to cross the Henry Spencer threshold. He’s always trying to make Shawn’s dad like him, even though Dad has thought of him as his second son ever since he willingly went fishing with him with no complaining.
He looks at all of the fish statues, like he’s wondering if they have moved since he last came over, or if there’s more of them, or if one is missing because it followed them home, snuck into their truck, or if they are all looking at him.
“Dad!” calls out Shawn. “There’s a little girl waiting to see you. And if your shirt makes her cry, I swear I’ll revoke all of your privileges.”
When there’s no answer, Shawn calls out ‘dad’ again. When there’s still no answer, he shares a look with his boyfriend and goes to the only other logical place his dad could be: the backyard.
Dad is out there, cleaning the grill of his barbecue, when Shawn opens up the sliding glass door and steps outside.
“I’m dropping off Meike by the way, so you might want to stop with the barbecue obsession for a couple hours to look after her,” he informs.
“Shawn, I—“ Dad starts, but Shawn’s finally looked around the porch and spotted Misfire sitting on his phone on the other side.
“What is he still doing here?” inquires Shawn, because he still isn’t prepared to deal with his half-brother, or the idea that he even has a half-brother. Meike was born because Shawn was stupid and incredibly hard and didn’t use any protection, and he loves her to pieces anyways. However, he still can’t wrap his head around his dad doing the same thing, making the same ‘mistakes’. (Really, Meike isn’t a mistake. He didn’t plan to have her, but he wouldn’t ever call her that—a mistake. She’s his daughter!)
“Can you relax? He’s leaving by the end of the week. Really, Shawn. He’s just a kid, you don’t need to be so hard on him. It’s not his fault he didn’t know I existed,” Henry says as Franz steps outside.
“No,” Shawn agrees. “It’s yours.”
“Shawn!” hisses Franz. Shawn knows that was a little mean. He isn’t sure how to process it all. Having a baby was easier to understand than this.
“Look, Dad. Can you just take Meike? Franz has a shift and I have a case and she’s your granddaughter,” says Shawn. He wants to wrap his arms around, and bury his head into Franz’s shoulder and not let go until the cows come home. He can’t do that because he’s a stupid adult with a job and rent and a best friend who’s waiting on him to solve a case.
Henry takes the pram from Franz. “Yes, I can take Meike, it’s no trouble.”
“Who’s baby is that?” asks Misfire as he walks over. He has one headphone pulled out of his ear, and Shawn can faintly hear Party Rock Anthem blasting statically out of it.
Party Rock Anthem is such a strange song to be listening to on a random Wednesday. What is up with this kid? How strange is his mom? How low are his dad’s standards?
“Mine,” Shawn says, immediately defensive. He feels like a dog, hackles raised. He presses his back into Franz’ chest, almost subconsciously. He knows he can protect him. Franz is big and strong and has always protected him. There’s a little part in his brain that needs Shawn to look after him, not the other way around. He’s his. He needs to be able to protect him.
“Misfire, this is Meike. She’s Shawn’s daughter. And the big guy over there is Franz. He’s Shawn’s— boyfriend,” Henry explains. He’s always been okay with Shawn’s inherent bisexuality. Shawn’s had girlfriends when he still presented as a girl, and boyfriends after he transitioned and he’s always been bad at serious relationships. Franz is the only one he’s ever wanted to stay as badly as he does now. He’s in love with him, head over heels, tripping over his own feet in love. He’s been with Franz for a long time; longer than most of his partners, and he’s been in love with Franz for a long time.
“You have a boyfriend?” asks Misfire, and then, as if he just realized it was more pressing, “you have a kid? That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Shawn says, because what else is he supposed to say? He doesn’t like this kid. He just wants things to go back to the way they usually are, no more surprises.
“Meike is your niece,” Henry declares.
“Half-niece,” Shawn corrects quickly. “She’s your half-niece.”
Franz squeezes Shawn’s shoulder. “Shawn, the shift,” he reminds, but his tone is worried.
“Oh. Yeah. The shift. The problems of having a boyfriend who’s a firefighter. Dad, you’ve got the baby?” Shawn rambles.
“Yes, I’ve got her. Go before there’s any actual real fires.”
Franz quickly pulls Shawn out of the backyard and through the house and out the door.
“Are you okay?” he asks as they are in the car.
Shawn buckles himself in. “I dunno. I guess. It’s weird. Should we have left her there? What if Dad leaves her with that kid? I don’t trust him to look after a microwaved meal much less my daughter—“
“Shawn. Stop,” Franz interrupts. “Meike will be fine. If Henry lets Misfire watch her, we won’t let him be around her unsupervised. We were already strict with the rules when we first started letting him babysit. They haven’t changed just because you’ve got a half brother. She’ll be alright.”
Shawn rubs his face. “You’re right. You’re right. I dunno what’s gotten into me. I mean, I’m a dad now. There’s a little girl out there right now that came out of me and she can’t protect herself. How do I deal with that?”
“Trust she’ll be okay?” offers Franz. “She’s my little girl too, didn’t come out of me, but she’s half my blood. I don’t think your father would intentionally let her be harmed. As much as you think he is, he isn’t evil.”
Shawn knocks his head against the seat. “I know. I know. I just— I dunno.”
“Don’t think about it. Think about the case. We can pick her up afterwards,” he assures, turning the corner. Just like that Franz switches from leaving Meike overnight to picking her up after work, and all because of Shawn. How is he supposed to handle all of this? He loves Franz so much and how is he supposed to handle that?
“I still want to have mind-blowing sex tonight,” Shawn remarks.
Franz makes an amused noise. “We can try if she goes to sleep quickly. I don’t know about mind-blowing, but I’ll try my best.”
“Trust me, your best is mind-blowing. Have you seen the size of your dick?”
Franz snorts. “I have, actually. And I’ve seen you on it, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Franz has to be intentionally teasing him. How is he going to survive until the end of the day. Give him ten minutes; just ten minutes.
“Can’t you be a little late?” Shawn wonders, almost whining. He wants to climb over the shift and eat Franz’s face off.
There’s a loud “Shawn!” as they pull up to the police station, and Gus is running out to the truck.
“I don’t think he’s going to let you,” he says.
Shawn groans. “Why can’t anybody but me solve murders around here?”
“Tonight, okay?” Franz says. He rubs Shawn’s knee as he unbuckles himself. “I love you.”
Shawn kisses him, says “I love you too,” and exits the car.