Chapter Text
The barn was golden in the evening light, dust drifting lazily through the air in slanted sunbeams. Jon ducked beneath the low doorframe and made his way down the main aisle, the faint scuff of his boots softened by packed dirt and straw. Toward the back, the soft huff of a ewe greeted him.
“Hey, Mama,” Jon murmured as he approached, crouching at the gate. The ewe, Biscuit, turned her head slowly, eyes half-lidded. She chewed her cud with the long-suffering expression of a mother who had just finished a hard day’s work. Her lamb, barely twelve hours old, was nestled against her belly in the straw, twitching in his sleep.
The little guy was off-white with a patchy coat and ears too big for his head. Jon had taken one look at him that morning and grinned so wide it made his face hurt.
“Gravy,” he’d declared, straight-faced and proud.
Damian had blinked at him from the kitchen doorway, one hand braced against the counter as he worked through an early contraction.
“You named them Biscuit and Gravy,” his husband had said, flat as a table.
Jon had only shrugged and muttered, “Tell me that’s not adorable.”
Now, kneeling beside them in the cool hush of the barn, he reached in to gently touch Gravy’s side. The lamb stirred but didn’t wake, too tired from the day’s big debut. Biscuit gave a low bleat instead, nudging at his hand.
“He’s alright,” Jon murmured, feeling the steady rise and fall of the lamb’s ribs beneath his fingertips. “Strong little thing. Gave us quite the scare, didn’t he?”
Gravy had been late, stubbornly so, and he’d had been up and down for days fretting over the pregnant ewe. Damian, ever the voice of reason, had merely clicked his tongue in disdain towards Jon’s nervous behavior.
“If she’s anything like me, she’ll deliver when she’s ready,” he’d said that morning, hand resting on his own belly. “Though if I go into labor tonight, I’m blaming her.”
Jon had laughed then. But now, several hours later, with Damian inside and very much in labor, the words echoed with a different kind of weight. Maybe his husband really was that in tune with everything around him. The land. The animals. Their life.
Jon gave Gravy one last pat, then stood and backed out quietly, latching the gate behind him.
Titan and Thea trotted up as he stepped into the barn aisle, tails wagging and tongues lolling. They must’ve heard the rustle of straw and come to investigate. Jon bent down to scratch behind their ears, the movement slow, fond.
“Alright. That’s your last job for the day,” he said, giving Titan a nudge. “Go on—bed.”
The collies bounded off toward the open barn doors, Thea stopping just once to glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the dark. Jon followed after them, stretching his arms overhead with a low groan as he stepped out into the cooling evening air.
The garden lay quiet to his left, rows of green softened by dusk. Above, the sky had begun to darken, brushed over with streaks of lavender and rose-gold. Fireflies were blinking to life along the edges of the fence where a pair of heifers stood dozing near the trough. Their tails flicked as they watched Jon go. He gave them a brief wave.
“Night, ladies.”
He turned toward the spigot near the house, twisting it on and letting cold water gush over his hands. He scrubbed away the dust and animal smell from his fingers, rubbing at the creases of his knuckles until the water ran clean. When he finished, he wiped his hands on his jeans and pulled his phone from his pocket.
The porch creaked under his boots as he stepped up. The screen door glowed faintly, light spilling out from inside the house. He didn’t need to see Damian to know he was in there, moving through contractions with that same quiet ferocity he’d lived his entire life by. It made Jon’s stomach flutter, half with nerves, half awe.
He thumbed his phone on, the screen lighting up his face in the growing dark. He quickly clicked on a contact and waited for the line to connect.
It rang once. Twice. A third time.
Jon leaned forward, one foot tapping idly against the porch floor. He listened to the evening’s chatter while he waited.
It was still light out and peels of childish laughter floated through the air, drifting in from across the field. Their neighbors had installed a trampoline a few weeks prior, so Jon spent most of his days listening to their kids’ fun while throwing hay bales or weeding the garden. Often times it even bled into the night as they camped out on it with blankets and flashlights. Such as right now.
He watched as beams of light streaked across the sky, making him smile. It was surreal to think that his and Damian’s own backyard would possibly look and sound like that in a few years time. Jon could only hope.
The line eventually picked up after the fourth ring.
“Jonny?”
Connor’s voice crackled over the speaker, sounding huskier than normal. Jon winced and immediately felt bad for calling. He hadn’t thought it was too late in the evening, but one look at his watch confirmed that it was after nine.
“Shoot, did I wake you?”
“Hm? Oh no. Just–“ his brother cleared his throat, fabric rustling in the background, “…dozing .”
“Jamie not sleeping again?” Jon whispered as he toed off his boots and padded back inside the house, heading towards the kitchen. He flicked on the stove light as he went and reached for Damian’s electric kettle, filling it up with one hand.
It had been nearly six months since Tim and Conner brought home their second son, Theo, and his nephew had yet to come around to the change. Even at three-years-old Jamie grasped the concept of petty behavior alarmingly well and preached it even day. Jon was sure that if he listened close enough, the toddler’s heartbeat would overlap his brother’s, along with Theo’s.
“When has he ever? Kid’s spent the last three nights in here with us. I miss when my bed was my own.”
More shifting filtered in through the opposite line, mixed with a few hushed words. A gentle thumping could be heard over Kon’s voice, alongside a couple infant-sized grumbles.
“Between Teddy and him I don’t think we’ve properly slept since Tim went into labor.”
Yikes.
“Sounds fun,” Jon hummed, shifting the phone over to cradle it between his shoulder and ear. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard, dropping a teabag into the center. Boiling water soon followed after it.
“Just wait. Your time is coming, brother dearest.”
Jon merely hummed again, adding a spoonful of honey into the steeping mixture. He stirred until it completely dissolved and tapped the excess off with a gentle tink tink. Steam curled up in thick, fragrant wafts, tracing his face. He just watched the liquid swirl, sighing as he switched the phone to his other side and moved towards the fridge.
“Actually, about that-“
But Jon didn’t get to finish as a flurry of movement seemed to overtake the line, effectively cutting him off. Conner squawked as the phone was ripped from his hand, a new voice filling his ear.
“Damian’s finally in labor?!”
Jon grabbed a carton of half and half from the shelf and bumped the door closed with his hip, ambling back over to the steaming mug. He poured enough in so that the dark liquid turned a soft beige. Just the way his husband liked it.
“Hey, Tim. How’s it going?”
“I’d be better if you told me how my little brother is—“
Another tussle broke out, quickly cutting off his brother-in-law. Conner’s voice filtered back in, significantly more out of breath than it was before. Jon bit the inside of his cheek to smother a chuckle.
“Sorry about that. Apparently this household lacks manners—“ Kon inhaled sharply, hissing something about eavesdropping through his teeth before continuing, “—and personal space.”
“But really, how’s D doing?”
Jon’s fingers tightened slightly around the mug. He glanced toward the hallway, just visible past the edge of the kitchen, where a soft light spilled out from beneath the bathroom door. Every few minutes, he could hear the faint slosh of water. The occasional pause. A breath drawn in deep. Then out again. Rinse and repeat.
“He’s good,” Jon said into the phone, voice low. “He’s really good.”
Conner didn’t say anything at first. Just a soft breath, then the faint creak of a bed frame on the other end. “Yeah?”
He nodded even though his brother couldn’t see it. “He’s focused. Grounded. Hasn’t asked for anything except more towels and space to move. Hell, he didn’t even flinch when his water broke. Just calmly changed his pants and went about his routine like nothing happened. He wouldn’t even let me clean up the mess.”
That earned a quiet laugh from Kon, but it faded quick. “That sounds like him.”
“Yeah,” Jon said. He swirled his husband’s tea gently, eyes drifting toward the hallway again. “There’s something about the way he’s doing this… like he already knew what it would feel like. As if his body and mind are already a few steps ahead.”
His brother was quiet for a beat, then said, “That’s how you know he’s ready.”
Jon swallowed around the knot in his throat. “I keep thinking I should be doing more. But all he wants is me here. Just here.”
“That is doing something,” Conner said gently. “You’re his anchor. You’re doing exactly what he needs—being calm, steady. Letting him lead.”
Jon’s shoulders eased. He didn’t realize how tense they’d gotten.
“He trusts you, Jonny. That’s what matters most.”
He closed his eyes, heart heavy in the best way. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Really.”
There was the soft shuffle of a baby on the other end, a breath caught between words. Then, just before the call ended, Conner’s voice came again, warm and sure.
“No problem, kid.”