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Michael "Robby" Robinavitch believed he was suited to many roles: first and foremost, he was a good doctor, his years of experience and all the patients he had managed to save were proof of that. Perhaps he was a little embarrassed to admit it, but when he saw the students and residents looking at him with bulging eyes after performing a procedure on a patient who seemed doomed, he couldn't help but be proud of himself.
Robby was also an excellent cook. He had always had a passion for it, from when he was a boy helping his grandmother cook Saturday lunches. His attachment to cooking remained with him throughout his adult life. For a second, before starting college, the idea of becoming a chef had crossed his mind, but his passion for medicine proved far superior to his love for cooking.
And then, Robby liked to think of himself as a good husband and boyfriend.
He'd always thought of his heart as a machine divided into two equal, precise halves: one part was Jack's and the other was Dennis's.
His love story with Jack began in college, when he first saw the ginger curly-haired boy two rows ahead of him. He'll forever remember the somersault his heart made when the boy turned around and, with a face full of freckles and the first signs of a light beard on his cheeks, slowly raised his hand with a small smile, greeting Robby.
And he'll always remember their first date, their first kiss, their first time, their marriage proposal, their first house together and all that other romantic bullshit.
As for the boy, Robby could swear it was him who made their lives complete.
He thought of Dennis, on his first day in the hospital. Initially, the boy was just like all the other medical students, just like all the hundreds who had come and gone from the hospital.
But then he helped Robby through his… existential crisis in the room they used as a morgue, and from there, something changed in the way he looked at him.
He imprinted in his mind the blue color of the man's eyes, the shape of his nose and lips. He bit his cheek so hard it hurt when one day he realized the boy had started growing his hair, which was getting curlier every day.
At first, it was a… disaster. He felt like shit when he realized he had feelings for his young medical student, much younger than him and most likely straight, but more than anything, he felt like an asshole towards Jack, his husband and lifelong partner.
And then one day, while the two men were lying on the couch, Robby leaning back and the other man lying with his head in his husband's lap, watching a program about African wildlife, Jack looked up.
“Whitaker, the student who arrived a few weeks ago.”
Robby nearly had a heart attack. He didn't take his eyes off the television, afraid that if he looked at his husband, he'd burst into tears. A lifelong relationship, full of love, joy, and memories, was about to end because he'd developed a crush on a much younger man.
He began to see his entire future flash before his eyes. Jack packing his bags and leaving, or Jack kicking him out of the house. The stares of his colleagues, the divorce paperwork, having to hide the ring and explain everything to their mutual friends and—
"He's cute, I mean, cute cute." And as if Jack's voice were the melodious sound of a flute and Robby a small snake, he looked down at his husband as if captivated. Jack raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Robby knew what that look meant.
Let's do it.
Then began their courtship of Dennis Whitaker. The boy was embarrassed at first, to say the least. His cheeks always turned a light shade of red when Robby placed his large hands on his shoulders.
A soft sigh always escaped his lips when Jack called him Dennis instead of Whitaker.
He trembled the first time Robby placed a hand on his lower back to guide him to a patient's room.
His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Jack winked at him from across the room after he was the only one who could figure out what was wrong with a patient.
He burst into tears when he kissed Robby for the first time.
They were in the break room when it happened. Their shift was practically over, and the handover between the day and night shifts had begun. They chatted as they finished their snacks, and Robby couldn't help but stare at Dennis's pink tongue licking his lips to pick up the crumbs that had stuck to his face.
Then they stood up and began cleaning up the mess they'd left on the tables, and Dennis began talking about how he should have gotten out so as not to piss off Santos, whom Robby had recently discovered was his roommate.
So he whirled around, not realizing the older man was right behind him. He slammed into his chest, his blond hair brushing Robby's bearded chin, and the boy's hands landed on the man's biceps.
Robby was about to apologize, give an awkward laugh and let the boy go, but then Dennis's lips crashed against his and the world stopped spinning.
It was just that, a touch. No tongues or movements, just their lips stuck together like two magnets. Robby's eyes widened while Dennis kept his closed, so tight Robby was sure it hurted.
And then, after a few seconds, which Robby could have sworn felt like a couple of years, the boy pulled away as if he were being pulled, like the touch he'd been chasing now burned like acid.
His eyes widened, the realization of his actions hitting him like a bullet. His slender fingers went to his lips, brushing them gently. His eyes began to fill with tears, and a dry sob escaped his throat.
“Oh God, Doctor Robby, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I don't know why I did that. I'll talk to Doctor Abbot and explain that it was my fault, that I'll stay away from you and—”
Robby didn't speak, he couldn't. He watched the tears fall from those blue eyes, those amazing blue eyes he dreamed of at night. He saw his lips curl in a sad expression and then open again, as if the boy wanted to keep apologizing.
So the only thing he could do was take Dennis's face in his hands and crush their mouths together again, this time letting his tongue slip inside his mouth.
Dennis moaned into the kiss, closing his eyes again and letting more tears fall. His tongue entwined with Robby's for a second before pulling away again, acting as if the touch burned.
“No, this is wrong. I can't do this, not to you or Dr. Abbot, it's not—”
His speech was abruptly interrupted by the break room door swinging open and Jack Abbot, dressed in a black T-shirt and cargo pants, entering.
He had a small smile on his lips as he closed the door behind him with a click, his eyes never looking away from Dennis.
The boy looked like he was about to faint, or vomit, or both. He was pale, much paler than usual (and this could be considered very serious given the student's already very pale complexion).
He took a step back, almost tripping over his own feet. He stepped away from Robby as if the distance could negate what had just happened, but the wetness on his cheeks and red lips, as well as the wetness on Robby's mouth, left no room for imagination.
“Dr. Abbot, this is all my fault and—”
“Robby.” The man interrupted, striding purposefully toward his husband. Jack’s hand went to the back of the man’s neck, squeezing slightly, and looking back at Dennis.
With his hand still on Robby’s neck, he gave Dennis a small smile, licked his lips almost imperceptibly, and narrowed his eyes.
“Man, we said we’d kiss him after taking him on a date. You cheated.”
Robby laughed at the shocked look on Dennis’s face and continued laughing when Jack turned his face towards him, giving his husband a very dirty, wet kiss.
Dennis could only stare at them, mouth agape. His knees began to shake, and a warm feeling welled up in his stomach, making him dizzy.
Jack pulled away with a pop, licking his lips and his husband's to clean the thin, invisible layer of saliva clinging to both of their mouths.
Then he turned, letting go of Robby, to look at Dennis.
Meanwhile, the boy had backed away even further, finally leaning against the wooden table in the room. Jack reached him in two small steps, caressing the boy's still-damp cheek with the back of his hand.
“Well, there’s only one left, right? Can I, dear?” He whispered, so slowly and in such a deep, husky tone that Dennis had to bite his lip to keep from moaning like a virgin.
He nodded, keeping his eyes on Jack’s. The man let out a small laugh. He clicked his tongue softly and let his fingers fall on the boy’s chin, shifting his face a little.
“Use your words, okay?”
Dennis swallowed some saliva and tightened his grip on the table.
“Yes.” His tone was a little higher and more awkward than he intended.
Then Jack connected their lips, and there was no going back.
They started going out, taking the boy to places he couldn’t otherwise afford. They bought him new clothes, a new stethoscope and accessories.
No one objected (well, maybe no one except Trinity) when, after just a few months of dating, Dennis moved into the two men's house.
And, almost three years later, Robby could swear it was the best decision they'd ever made.
So yes, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch was suited for many things.
But he never imagined being a father was one of them.
With his and Jack's schedules, parenthood had never been on their bucket list. They were almost too busy to think about themselves, let alone a child.
And so time passed, and their advancing ages became a reason why having a child wasn't one of their options.
And then it happened, on a Thursday evening.
A mother gave birth in their ward. The contractions were too painful and the time was too short to move her upstairs.
Dennis assisted her, aided by other doctors and nurses.
Robby and Jack were there, just in case, as it was only a few minutes before shift change and the man had arrived a little early to see his partners.
When Dennis picked up the little, screaming white bundle before passing it to his mother, Robby and Jack looked at each other, a new realization dawning in their hearts, a little scary but exciting.
They obviously discussed it with Dennis and were much more relaxed when the boy was more than enthusiastic. He kissed his two boyfriends before throwing himself on them like they were comfortable pillows.
“Yes! I grew up with three brothers and have almost a dozen nieces and nephews. I've always wanted to start a family of my own.” He said happily, running his fingers through Robby's beard and stroking Jack's knee with his foot.
They initially considered adoption, but the amount of paperwork and the expected wait time sent shivers down the spines of all three of them.
"I'm not opposed to the idea, you know? Sure, the whole pregnancy thing scares me a little, but I can do it, and besides, I have you two with me."
When Robby and Jack found out their boyfriend was transgender, it was on their third date.
Dennis went to their house, gazing around in awe as if the two men's apartment was the most wonderful place on earth.
"Before we do anything, I have to tell you something I probably should have told you right away." He ran his palms over his jeans, biting his lip and looking at the two men.
Jack had grabbed his hips and was unsure whether to let go after the boy's words, while Robby, who had started leaving marks all over the boy's neck, stopped his movements.
"I'm transgender. I had chest surgery and I'm taking testosterone, but under—"
He looked at his crotch.
"I've never had any surgery. I hope this doesn't bother you, I—"
He couldn't finish speaking, because the two men returned to the attack, now much, much hungrier than before.
“If you're okay with this baby, we're more than fine with it. Just know that we'll help you from start to finish.” Jack took his hand, kissing his knuckles without breaking eye contact.
And so, their new adventure began.
The first period was spent doing research, trying to figure out if taking testosterone had reduced Dennis's chances of pregnancy to zero.
After their research, they started trying seriously. They stopped buying condoms (not that they used them much anyway) and started buying pregnancy tests.
Days passed, then weeks, then months, and all the tests promptly ended up in the bathroom trash, with a single red line printed on the gray screen.
“If this keeps going like this, we might as well… stop. There are other options.”
They were sitting on the cold bathroom floor, Dennis still holding the negative plastic test stick in his hands.
Jack was leaning on Dennis's shoulder, and Robby was massaging the boy's arm, trying to be strong for both of them.
Neither man spoke. Jack looked at Robby for a second before looking back at the stick. Dennis didn't look up, but Robby saw his lower lip tremble.
When they went to bed, Robby woke up in the middle of the night, went to the bathroom and took the stick from the trash, broke it in his hands, and cried as quietly as possible.
And then, one summer morning a few months later, Dennis came out of the bathroom, sat down at the table, and, with a strange smile on his face, began to eat breakfast.
“What are you thinking about, Den?” Robby asked as he stirred his cereal into the yogurt, looking up from his bowl to look at the boy.
Dennis didn't answer right away, just shook his head a little and continued eating, that smile still plastered on his face.
Jack took a sip of coffee from his cup, looking at his husband for answers, but Robby could only shrug slightly.
"Nothing," he said, licking his lips after finishing his breakfast.
"I was just thinking we should start getting the necessities, you know, a crib, pacifiers, and diapers. Oh, good thing I have experience changing diapers."
He laughed, finally looking at the two men.
The whole world went silent as the realization hit them. Jack set his cup down on the table, so hard that the coffee spilled out and stained the wood. Robby dropped the spoon he was holding.
"You're—"
"Pregnant, yes." He pulled a stick from his pajama pocket with two thick red lines on the gray screen.
Robby and Jack nearly leaped over the table to grab the boy, showering him with kisses and praise, running their hands over his still-not-yet-protruding belly.
A visit to the gynecologist confirmed Dennis's pregnancy, making them the three happiest men on the planet.
The next few months passed in a haze of love and worry. They said nothing to anyone for the first trimester, too worried about having to endure people's pitying looks if the pregnancy didn't go well.
Robby and Jack became overprotective. They prevented him from moving unless necessary, made him eat only pregnancy-appropriate foods and nearly had a heart attack when, during the second month, they saw Dennis carrying a rather heavy-looking box full of knick-knacks.
"I'm not made of porcelain, you know, I can do the basics." He said sullenly as Jack snatched the box from him.
"Leave this to us." Robby kissed his head, smelling his hair and coaxing him to go and lay down.
When the first trimester ended, they let out a sigh they hadn't realized they'd been holding back since the beginning of the pregnancy.
The first person they told was Trinity, Dennis's best friend and former roommate, whose initial reaction was a simple:
"I didn't know these old men still had that ability." A phrase deliberately spoken loudly so they could hear it from the other room.
Then came the fourth—
"They kicked! They kicked!" Dennis shouted from the couch one evening, looking up from the television to look at his belly, where a small lump protruded near his navel.
As if it were a race, Robby and Jack rushed into the living room, each pressing their ears to the taut skin to hear something.
"Hey, little one, come on, do it again for your daddies." Jack pressed his lips to his belly, his words almost incomprehensible since he was attached.
They stood there, waiting for movement, but nothing came.
They returned dejectedly to the kitchen, heads down and tails between their legs. Dennis didn't have the heart to tell them that, the moment they left the room, their little one kicked again.
He caressed the skin, biting his lip to keep from laughing.
The fifth-
"Good morning." Robby announced, entering the living room and pressing a kiss to Dennis's lips, who was curled up on the couch with his phone in his hands.
"And good morning." He crouched down, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to hiss at the pain in his knees.
He lowered himself to his stomach, lifting the fabric of the boy's sweater to reveal his bare skin. He pressed a kiss above his belly button, nuzzling the skin with his nose.
"So, were you good last night, little one? I heard your daddy get up a few times because you were probably kicking his bladder." He planted another kiss, taking Dennis's hand and intertwining their fingers.
"I can't wait to meet you, I love you so much already." He whispered softly, holding the boy's hand in his and resting his forehead on his skin, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth.
“Fuck these hormones.” Dennis thought, wiping the edges of his eyes with the fingers of his free hand.
The sixth—
“Dennis Whitaker, I’m not letting you go to work when you can barely tie your own shoes. Stay here.”
Dennis didn’t speak to Jack for two whole days after that comment, but he relented when the man rubbed moisturizer on his belly, kissed his neck, and apologized.
The seventh—
“I’m so scared, I’m so fucking scared.” He clung tighter to Robby, his belly resting on the older man’s upper body.
That night, Dennis had woken up panting, his throat tightening and he tried not to cry as he explained to Robby that he’d had a nightmare, a horrible nightmare where something was going wrong for him and the newborn.
“What if I do something and hurt her? What if I can't make her stop crying? What if—” He stopped abruptly, sobs stealing his words.
Robby held him close, trying to calm the younger boy.
“Den, look at me.” In the darkness, Dennis's blue eyes shone like sapphires in a dark cave.
Robby ran the pad of his thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears.
“You'll be an amazing parent. Wonderful, damn it. And we are going to be here. Jack and I will never leave, and we'll be here for you—”
He placed a hand on his pajama-covered stomach.
“—and for them. Never doubt that.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, Dennis nodded, resting his head against Robby's chest again, hoping he could go back to sleep.
The eighth-
“Isn't it time we think about a name?” Robby asked one day, while checking the latest medical news on his phone.
Dennis looked up from his book, his gaze meeting Jack's, sitting on the other side of the couch.
“I was thinking about giving it to them right then and there, actually. You know, like, 'I'll know when I see them' and stuff like that.” He looked at Robby, who turned off his phone.
“Yeah, but it still wouldn't hurt to have some options, just to be safe.”
“Have you already thought about—”
“Emma for a girl, Adam for a boy.” Robby interrupted his husband, looking back at his phone to try to hide the blush on his cheeks.
Jack looked at him and laughed, glancing at Dennis.
“I think someone here spent a lot of time looking up baby names, huh?” Dennis laughed, trying to hide his smile behind the pages of his book.
Robby looked up, almost indignant and open-mouthed. He let out an annoyed sigh and didn't respond, only listening to Jack and Dennis laughing.
And then, the ninth month arrived.
During those days, everyone around Dennis seemed to be walking on eggshells. Every little pain he felt was taken as a warning by his two partners, who had already packed their bags to take to the hospital on the day of the delivery by the seventh month.
"Stop acting like that or I swear I won't let you come with me on the day of the delivery!" He slammed his fork on the table after, for the sixth time in an hour, one of them asked him if everything was okay.
Then, whether out of anger, frustration, or hormones, he began to cry, running his hand over his belly.
"In a few days or weeks, it will all be over, don't worry." Robby whispered in his ear, immediately kissing his cheek.
They carried Dennis to the couch and held him tightly, caressing his belly and cooing against his skin to calm him.
"Think how beautiful it will be when they're born." Jack looked at him with eyes full of love, kissing him and then his husband.
Dennis snuggled even closer between the two men, feeling completely tired but happy.
Emma Whitaker-
("Whitaker-Abbot-Robinavitch? Do you know how much they'll hate us? They'll spend hours just filling out the paperwork! It's better if we just keep your last name."
"Yeah, I don't feel like fighting over which last name to choose, and besides, it's not that important to me, even if it's not explicitly stated, they are our kid." Robby continued for his husband, squeezing the boy's shoulders.)
Was born healthy on a warm April morning, after ten hours of labor, in the obstetrics ward of the Pittsburgh hospital where the three men worked.
With a record weight and vocal cords worthy of an opera singer, the baby's umbilical cord was cut and carefully passed to Dennis, who looked exhausted and over the moon.
Robby and Jack stood on either side of the boy, unable to do anything but watch with tears in their eyes and hearts full of love as the little girl seemed to have calmed down after falling into her father's arms.
Dennis looked… gorgeous. The dark circles under his eyes were more visible, his face so pale. His hair was sticking to his forehead and temples from the sweat, and his hands were shaking as he held the little girl.
Jack let his tears fall, wetting the blue mask he was wearing. Dennis looked at him, smiling through half-closed eyes.
“Emma, hey little girl, do you want to meet your dads?” His voice was weak and hoarse from all the yelling—
“I'll cut your dicks off as soon as I get the chance! Damn, this is all your fault!” he shouted at one point, nearly breaking Robby's metacarpals with his grip.
Jack looked at Robby, who nodded at him. After receiving permission, he reached out, his gloved, trembling hands inching closer to the little girl.
His eyes were bulging, a "this is really happening, it can't be" expression on his face as he held the little girl in his arms.
She squirmed a little, probably irritated by all the shifting. Jack made a small noise to let her know there was nothing to fear, that she was safe.
Robby walked around the bed, clinging to his husband's shoulder to look at the little girl. He felt tears fill his eyes. He laughed, a watery, joyful laugh.
"Hi, Emma, yes, I know, we stole you from your daddy's grasp. Oh, I already know who will be the favorite parent. I'm Jack, your Dada, and he's Robby, your Papa. Oh, you're so cute, I love you, I love you so much." His speech was interrupted by a sob.
He held her little head with the palm of his hand. Robby reached out a finger, caressing her still-wet cheek.
He squeezed Jack's shoulder a little tighter and looked at Dennis, who looked like he was about to fall asleep with a smile on his face.
This was his family, his little world, and Robby was the happiest man on the entire planet.
"Hey little girl, yes yes, I know, how dare the sun wake us up so early, I'm going to have to talk to him."
He picked up the little girl from her crib, resting her tiny head covered in fine blond hair on his shoulder and keeping a hand on her back, covered in her pink pajamas.
Emma Whitaker, who at two months old hated loud noises, the dolphin stuffed animal they bought for her and the early mornings, opened her little eyes, wrinkled her nose and buried her face in her Papa's neck.
Robby stood still for a second, just to savor the smell of his little girl, before heading into the living room.
Jack had just returned from his shift and was sprawled on the couch, looking tired and sad.
When he saw his husband with the baby in his arms, however, he seemed to perk up. He sat up, holding out his hands without saying a word.
Robby smiled, handing the baby to the other man and watching as Jack kissed her chubby cheek before slowly rocking her.
“Good morning, Emma, your Papa texted me earlier; it looks like you broke the record for loudest scream in the whole world! Congratulations!”
The man looked completely serious as he spoke, which made Robby smile even more.
“Luckily, her Papa always volunteered to help her go back to sleep.” Dennis came out of the bathroom, shuffling his feet and rubbing his eyes.
It had taken him a while to recover after giving birth, but he seemed to be getting better every day, which eased Jack and Robby's worries a little (but never completely).
He sat on the couch, kissing Jack and Robby immediately afterward.
He rested his head on Robby's shoulder, watching with still-sleepy eyes as his little girl raised her arms to the sky, trying to grab her Papa's nose.
She began to coo, little sounds that ranged from murmurs to full-blown screams.
“Emma Whitaker!” Jack exclaimed, not too loudly so as not to scare the little girl, looking dramatically at the child in his arms.
“How can you say something like that to your poor Dada! I don't like this attitude, young lady.” He continued rocking her, keeping a serious face.
The little girl continued to make noises, perhaps even louder this time.
“That's enough, young lady, after this you've lost your car as a sixteenth birthday present. Oh, don't look at me like that, I won't change my mind.”
Dennis laughed, burying his nose in Robby's neck, almost rolling his eyes at the words coming out of Jack's mouth.
“Come on, I'm going to change her.” He took the little girl from Jack, pressing a kiss to his husband's temple as a sign of apology for taking their daughter from him.
“You rest.” He said, giving him another kiss when the man sighed, trying to cover a yawn.
"And you—" He kissed the top of Dennis's head, who was falling asleep on his shoulder.
"Eat something and go back to sleep if you're still tired." Dennis nodded with his eyes closed, kissing Robby's shoulder and getting up to go to the kitchen.
When Robby got up from the couch, Jack had already stretched out and was practically unconscious, snoring lightly and drooling a little on the red pillows.
He went to the bathroom, laying the baby on the changing table.
"Oh, I know, you don't like it as much as I don't like it." He said in a defeated, ironic tone when the little girl began to squirm in annoyance.
From the bathroom, he could hear Dennis grabbing the breakfast cups and plates and Jack moving around on the couch. Emma shifted again, looking at her Papa impatiently.
Yes, if you'd asked Robby, he would have told you he was good at a lot of life's tasks.
He was a good doctor, a good cook, but above all, a good husband and boyfriend.
Yes, because his heart was once divided into two very specific parts, but for some time now, it had been divided into three parts: one for Jack, one for Dennis and one for little Emma.
And maybe he wouldn't have been the perfect father. Maybe he would have said or done the wrong thing, maybe he wouldn't have been able to fully understand her, and maybe, very likely, he would have made several mistakes.
But damn, he would have tried hard to be a good father to his little girl.