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Neither Robby nor Jack had ever expected to have children for entirely different reasons.
Robby had spent most of his adult life married to emergency medicine. Relationships had happened. A few serious ones. But never anything that lasted long enough to reach conversations about nurseries, school runs, or college funds.
Jack had loved once. Had married young. Had planned a future. And then life had done what life occasionally did best and ripped those plans apart before they ever had a chance to happen. After that there had been deployments. Recovery. Medical school. Residency. The long complicated process of surviving.
By the time Jack and Robby found each other, both of them had quietly assumed children simply weren't part of the picture. Not a tragedy. Just reality.
Then somehow they reached their fifties and acquired four fully-grown adult children instead. Neither of them were entirely sure how it had happened. One minute they'd had a large house. The next minute Dennis and Trinity were living in it. Then Victoria moved in part time. Then Mel became a frequent flyer.
And suddenly there were colour-coded leftovers in the fridge and somebody was always using all the hot water.
Honestly? It was wonderful.
Mostly.
The problem was that unlike actual children, their kids arrived with twenty-plus years of habits already factory installed.
Dennis never put dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Never. The basket could be physically touching his leg and somehow his trousers would still end up on the floor.
Mel had approximately seventy thousand alarms every morning. None of which she responded to.
Victoria studied like she was being hunted for sport and hated being interrupted.
And Trinity had the ability to leave mugs in as many rooms of the house as physically possible and forget about their existence.
Robby still wasn't entirely sure how she'd achieved that. Jack found all of this hilarious. Because Jack wasn't the one finding abandoned coffee mugs in the linen cupboard.
The point was: Parenting adults was weird. Very weird.
But there was one habit that united all of them. One behaviour so universally shared that Robby was beginning to suspect it was contagious. None of them knew how to knock.
Not Dennis. Not Trinity. Not Victoria. Not Mel. Not a single one.
Doors apparently meant nothing to them. Privacy was merely a suggestion. Boundaries were decorative.
The first time Dennis had wandered directly into Robby and Jack's bedroom at seven in the morning to ask whether anybody had seen his anatomy textbook, Robby had assumed it was a one-off.
It was not.
Then Trinity had opened the bathroom door while he was brushing his teeth because she'd forgotten where Jack kept the plasters. Only three minutes before he’d been having a piss and Robby dreads to think what would have happened if she had turned up sooner.
Victoria once walked into his office without even slowing down, asked a question, received an answer, and left again, leaving the door wide open behind her.
The door had apparently been entirely symbolic.
Mel sometimes got so caught up in what she was doing or focused on that she didn’t even notice a door being closed. She walked with purpose and no door could stop her when she had a goal in mind.
Robby loved them. Desperately.
But if one more baby doctor materialised in a doorway without warning, he was going to start installing deadlocks on all the doors.
“You're thinking about murder.”
Robby looked up from his coffee. Jack sat opposite him at the kitchen table, entirely too smug for somebody whose children were causing the problem.
“I am not.”
“You have your murder face.”
“I have a what?”
“Your murder face.”
“I don't have a murder face.”
“You absolutely have a murder face.”
Upstairs, a door opened. Then another. Then footsteps thundered through the hallway. The household was waking up.
Robby closed his eyes. “Yankl.”
“Hm?”
“We need to teach them how to knock.”
Jack took a sip of coffee. “Good luck with that.”
—
The first attempt was educational. Robby sat everyone down after dinner. Jack watched from the end of the table with the expression of a man enjoying a television programme.
“Okay,” Robby began.
Immediately four pairs of eyes turned toward him.
“What's happened?”
“Nothing's happened.”
“That's what people say when something's happened.”
“Trinity.”
“Sorry.”
Robby took a breath. “New house rule.” The collective groan could probably be heard from space. “You all need to knock before entering rooms.”
Silence, followed by: “We do.”
Robby stared at Dennis. Dennis stared back. The rest of the table looked equally confused.
“You absolutely do not.”
“We absolutely do.”
“Dennis, you walked into my office yesterday.”
“You said come in.”
“You were already inside.”
Dennis paused. “...oh.”
That should have been a warning. Unfortunately it wasn't.
—
The second attempt involved signs. This was Jack's idea. A terrible idea. Naturally he loved it.
The signs appeared on doors one Saturday morning.
KNOCK FIRST
Simple. Clear. Impossible to misunderstand. For approximately three hours.
Then Trinity added a second sign beneath Robby's office door.
EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCIES
Reasonable.
Then Victoria added:
DEFINE EMERGENCY
Dennis contributed:
MISSING TEXTBOOKS COUNT
By lunchtime the entire thing looked like a legal document. Nobody knocked.
—
The third attempt involved consequences. This lasted one day.
“Every time somebody enters a room without knocking,” Robby announced, “you owe me a dollar.”
“That's extortion.”
“That's parenting.”
“Same thing.”
By dinner Robby had accumulated eleven dollars. Mostly from Trinity. Unfortunately he immediately spent it buying pizza for everyone. Which completely undermined the lesson.
—
The fourth attempt involved Jack. This was Robby's biggest mistake.
“Can you please back me up?”
Jack looked up from the dishwasher. “About?”
“The knocking.”
“Sure.”
Robby relaxed slightly. Excellent. Finally. An ally.
The next morning Mel wandered directly into the workshop without knocking. “Jack?”
“Hm?”
“Have you seen my-”
“Top drawer.”
“Thanks.” She left.
Jack continued sanding a piece of wood.
Robby stared. “Yankl.”
“What?”
“You didn't say anything.”
Jack looked genuinely puzzled. “She knocked.”
“She did not.”
“I’m sure she meant to knock.”
“That doesn't count.”
—
Then there was Victoria. Victoria somehow managed to make things worse. Because she technically complied.
One afternoon Robby was working in his office when:
Knock knock knock.
The door opened immediately. Victoria walked in. “Can I ask you something?”
Robby stared. “You didn't wait.”
“I knocked.”
“You knocked and entered simultaneously.”
“I was multitasking.”
“That's not how knocking works.”
Victoria considered this. “Interesting.”
Then continued asking her question.
—
Dennis wasn't any better. Dennis at least attempted to follow the rule. The problem was that he treated it like a speed challenge.
One Saturday morning Robby was in the downstairs bathroom trimming his beard. Peaceful. Quiet.
Knock.
The door immediately opened. “Robby, have you seen-”
“DENNIS.”
Dennis froze. “What?”
Robby pointed at the still-open door. Then at the beard trimmer in his hand. “You knocked and entered simultaneously.”
“I waited.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“It felt longer.”
Robby closed his eyes. “Get out.”
“Okay.” Dennis paused. “Have you seen my left work shoe?”
“OUT.”
—
Trinity somehow managed to be both the worst offender and the least apologetic.
One evening Robby was downstairs in his and Jack’s room, in bed. Not sleeping. Just reading. Jack was at work.
The house was unusually quiet. It was lovely.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Trinity walked in carrying a bowl of cereal. “Quick question.”
Robby slowly lowered his book. “Did you knock?”
Trinity looked behind her at the open door. Then back at him. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You were awake.”
“How would you know that?”
“Your light was on.”
“TRINITY.”
She looked genuinely confused. “What?”
“This is my bedroom.”
“I know.”
“People knock before entering bedrooms.”
Trinity considered this. “Even when they're reading?”
Robby stared at her. “Especially when they're reading.”
“Huh.”
A pause. “Anyway, have you seen the good scissors?”
Robby made a noise that Jack later described as the exact sound of a man reconsidering parenthood.
—
After three weeks, four house meetings, seventeen reminders and one increasingly desperate PowerPoint presentation, absolutely nothing had improved. Robby even tried a star chart, with stickers awarded to the best knocker.
If anything, they had become worse.
The kids now viewed knocking as a fascinating academic debate rather than a house rule. And every failed attempt only seemed to encourage them.
They would soon learn the importance of knocking.
—
The accident happened on a Tuesday. Which was unfortunate. Because Tuesdays were supposed to be safe.
Dennis had a late shift. Trinity was meeting friends after work. Victoria was studying at the university library. Mel was out with her sister.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, Robby and Jack had the house entirely to themselves. It was suspicious.
“It's too quiet.”
Jack looked up from where he was making tea. “You say that every time the kids aren't here.”
“Because every time the kids aren't here, something feels wrong.”
Jack handed him a mug. “That's called missing them.”
“I see them at work.”
“You also complain about them at work.”
“That's different.”
Jack snorted. Robby loved that sound. Loved the easy familiarity of it. The domesticity.
The fact that after everything life had thrown at both of them, they still somehow ended up here. In a warm kitchen. In a house full of accidental children. Together.
Jack bumped their shoulders lightly. “You're staring.”
“You're handsome.”
“That's very sweet.”
“It's also true.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Failed to hide his smile. Robby considered that a victory.
—
The evening drifted by comfortably. Dinner. Dishes. A film neither of them were actually paying attention to.
Eventually Robby ended up stretched out along the sofa with Jack tucked against his side. One of Jack's crutches leaned nearby. The television hummed softly in the background. Outside, rain tapped against the windows. It should have been peaceful.
Instead Robby found himself increasingly distracted by the fact that his husband existed. Which was admittedly not a new problem.
Jack caught him looking again. “Look at that.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“You absolutely have a face.”
Robby leaned down and kissed him. Mostly because it seemed easier than arguing. Jack kissed him back immediately.
The problem with being married for years was that sometimes you forgot how lucky you were right up until moments like this. Then suddenly you remembered all at once.
Jack smiled against his mouth. “Well.”
“Well?”
“We finally get one evening alone.”
Robby laughed softly. “You make a compelling argument.”
“It's one of my many talents.”
—
They made it to their bedroom eventually. Slowly. Without much urgency. The bedroom door clicked shut behind them.
For once the house was quiet. No alarms. No textbooks. No requests for snacks. No mysterious medical questions.
Just Robby and Jack.
Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed laughing about something Robby had said when Robby stepped closer and kissed him again.
One hand settled against Jack's shoulder. Jack's hand found the back of his neck. The kind of affection built over years rather than weeks.
“You know,” Jack murmured.
“Hm?”
“We should enjoy this.”
“We are.”
“No interruptions.”
“Don't jinx it.”
“Michael.”
“Yankl.”
—
Across the house, the front door opened. Neither heard it.
—
The bedroom door exploded inward.
“ROBBY HAVE YOU SEEN THE-”
Robby froze.
Jack froze.
Trinity froze.
Jack was stretched out across the bed, one of the pillows half-fallen behind him. At some point his shirt had disappeared, abandoned somewhere on the floor. Robby was between his husband’s legs, leaning down across him to kiss his neck, while Jack's fingers were tangled loosely in the back of his t-shirt.
Jack blinked.
Robby lifted his head very, very slowly.
Trinity's eyes widened. Nobody seemed capable of movement.
“Oh.”
Another voice appeared behind her. “Trinity, why are you-”
Dennis stopped. Victoria stopped. Mel stopped.
Four baby doctors now stood in the doorway. Four. Nobody breathed. The silence somehow became worse.
“Oh my God,” Victoria whispered.
“Oh my God,” Dennis echoed.
Mel immediately covered her face. “OH NO.”
“I can't unsee that.”
“You weren't supposed to see it!”
“I know that now!”
Jack dropped his head back against the mattress. “Michael.”
Robby briefly considered faking his own death.
Trinity pointed accusingly. “You said you were watching a film.”
“We were.”
“That is not what this looks like.”
“TRINITY.”
“Sorry!”
“Very sorry!”
“Extremely sorry!”
The door slammed shut. Footsteps thundered away down the hallway. A distant scream echoed from somewhere upstairs. Then another.
Then what sounded suspiciously like Dennis shouting: “THIS IS WHY WE KNOCK.”
Jack stared at the ceiling. Robby stared at the closed bedroom door. Neither spoke for several seconds. Then Jack made a strangled noise that rapidly became laughter.
“Oh, don't start.”
“We finally found a way to teach them the importance of knocking.”
“Yankl.”
“Michael.”
“I'm never recovering from this.”
Jack reached up, tugged him down for a quick kiss, and grinned. “Worth it.”
—
The retreat upstairs was chaotic. Four adults piled into Dennis's room and immediately began talking over one another.
“Oh my God.”
“Oh fuck.”
“OH MY GOD.”
Mel had her face buried in her hands. “That was traumatising.”
Victoria was pacing.“That was our fault.”
“I know it was our fault. I'm still traumatised.”
Dennis looked like somebody had just informed him Santa wasn't real. He hadn't said a word since they reached his room.
Trinity sat cross-legged on the floor looking deeply offended on behalf of everybody involved. “I can't believe this.”
Victoria rounded on her. “You opened the door.”
“I know!”
“YOU OPENED THE DOOR.”
“I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING.”
“What exactly did you think was happening?”
“I DON'T KNOW.”
The room fell briefly silent. Then Dennis said “I genuinely forgot they were married.”
Three heads turned.
“You what?”
“I know they're married.”
“Dennis.”
“I KNOW they're married.”
“Dennis.”
“But they're also...”
He gestured helplessly. Nobody knew what he was trying to say.
Eventually Mel supplied “Parents?”
“Yes.”
“That's not better.”
“It is in my head.”
Victoria dropped face-first onto the mattress. “I am never making eye contact with either of them again.”
“You absolutely will.”
“No.”
“You work with them.”
“No, I don't anymore. I've retired.”
“You're twenty.”
“Retired. Resigned. Leaving the profession.” Victoria insisted.
Trinity pointed accusingly. “They are old.”
The room went quiet. Because that was the real issue. Not that Robby and Jack were married. Not even that they were clearly in love. Everyone knew that.
The problem was that somehow, collectively, they'd all mentally filed them under: Parents.
And parents, apparently, existed in a completely separate category from normal human beings.
Dennis looked deeply distressed. “Robby has reading glasses.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don't know but he also complains about his back.”
Victoria groaned into the pillow. “Please stop.”
“Jack falls asleep watching documentaries.”
“He gets excited about garden centres, too.”
“He owns like three different bird feeders.”
Mel stared at them. “You realise none of those things stop people having sex?”
The entire room looked at her.
“Oh God,” Dennis whispered.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it's true.”
“Mel.”
“Sorry.”
“Nobody needs reality right now.”
Trinity looked genuinely horrified. “Do you think they've always been like that?”
Victoria threw a pillow at her. “TRINITY.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
“I can't.”
“Neither can I.”
“...this is why they wanted us to knock, isn't it?”
The pieces finally clicked into place.
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
“Oh no.”
Dennis buried his face in his hands. “Guys.”
“What?”
“I think we're the problem.”
For once, nobody argued.
—
Later that evening, there was a knock at the bedroom door. A real knock. Three distinct taps.
Then silence.
Robby looked up from his book. Jack looked up from where he was sitting on his side of the bed, carefully rubbing cream into his residual limb. The pair of them stared at the door. Then at each other. Then back at the door.
“Well that's new,” Jack said.
Robby lowered his reading glasses slightly. “Come in.”
The door opened approximately six inches. Notably, nobody immediately barged through it.
Another first.
Dennis appeared first. Followed by Trinity. Then Victoria. Then Mel. All four looked vaguely embarrassed. Which was almost as alarming as the knocking.
Jack grinned immediately. “Look at that.”
“Don't.”
“They learned.”
“Jack.”
“They actually learned.”
Robby closed his eyes briefly. His husband was being entirely too pleased about this. The bedroom felt comfortable and lived-in around them. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room.
Jack was already in pyjamas, one leg stretched across the mattress while he finished his evening routine. Robby was propped against the headboard with a book. The sort of ordinary domestic scene that usually went unnoticed.
Tonight, apparently, it had an audience.
“This is weird now,” Victoria announced.
“Catastrophically weird,” Dennis agreed.
“You made it weird,” Robby said.
“We know.”
Then Trinity cleared her throat. “Anyway, we're sorry.”
Robby blinked. Jack blinked.
Dennis immediately looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. “Trinity,” he hissed.
“What?”
“You can't just say it like that.”
“How else am I supposed to say it?”
“Less like you're confessing to a crime.”
“Technically we committed a crime against our own eyeballs.”
Jack laughed. Actually laughed. Which wasn't helping.
“Yankl.”
“What?”
“Stop encouraging them.”
“I'm not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Jack's smile only widened.
Across the room, Dennis rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We are sorry though.”
That got Robby's attention. Because Dennis sounded sincere. The others did too.
“We should've knocked,” Mel admitted.
“We should've waited after knocking,” Victoria added.
“We should've done that ages ago,” Trinity said.
“Correct.”
“Thank you, Dennis.”
Dennis nodded solemnly. “I've learned a valuable lesson.”
“No you haven't.”
“I have.”
“What lesson?”
Dennis pointed at the door. “Boundaries. And a lesson I paid dearly for.”
Mel buried her face in her hands.
Jack nearly fell off the bed laughing.
Robby reached over and smacked his husband's shoulder lightly. Which only made Jack laugh harder. Eventually the laughter settled. The room grew quieter. The kind of quiet that only existed in homes where people felt safe.
Dennis shifted slightly. “We'll make an effort.”
“Yeah,” Victoria agreed.
“Knocking.”
“Waiting.”
“General emotional self-preservation.”
“Excellent plan,” Jack said.
Robby nodded. “Appreciated.”
For a second nobody moved.
Then Dennis cleared his throat. “Well.”
“Well?” Robby asked.
“We should probably leave before we make this worse.”
“A wise decision.”
“Possibly my first.”
Jack laughed. “Goodnight, kids.”
A chorus of goodnights followed. The group began backing toward the door.
Then paused. Victoria pointed at the door. “We did knock.”
Trinity looked absurdly pleased with herself. “Look at us.”
“Personal growth,” Mel agreed.
“I'm proud of you all.”
“That's because your standards are low,” Dennis said.
“Very low.”
The door began to close. Then Trinity popped her head back around it. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The door clicked shut. Gently. A full three seconds passed.
Then: Knock knock.
The door opened an inch. “I need to borrow the spare stethoscope.”
“TRINITY.”
“Sorry.”
She grabbed it from the dresser and immediately retreated. The door shut again.
A moment later:
Knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened just enough for Dennis to appear. “Forgot to say thank you.”
Robby blinked. “For what?”
Dennis shrugged awkwardly. “Everything, I guess.”
Then he disappeared before anybody could respond.
The door closed. This time it stayed closed. Silence settled over the room.
Jack was smiling. Robby noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Yankl.”
Jack adjusted the blanket over his residual limb. Still smiling. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“A little.”
Robby set his book aside. The house had gone quiet again. The kids upstairs. Safe. Exactly where they were supposed to be.
Jack reached across the mattress and squeezed his hand once. “You know,” he said softly, “for a bunch of adults, they're not doing too badly.”
Robby looked toward the closed bedroom door. Thought about apologies. About awkward goodnights. About four people who'd finally learned to knock.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No,” he agreed.
“They're really not.”
Outside the room, footsteps crossed the hallway. Then stopped.
Knock knock.
Robby laughed before he could stop himself. “Come in.”
Progress, apparently, came one door at a time.