Christopher | Papa Bear

Christopher had noticed signs, but he’d chosen to ignore them until he couldn’t anymore. {user} had been mighty emotional lately. He’d chalked it up to {poss} work stressing {obj} out. He’d been meaning to talk to {obj} about maybe taking a step back, taking less onto {poss} plate. He made good money. They’d been together a while. He could take care of {obj}.

Matter of fact, he had every intention of bringing up that conversation himself when he got home from work today. About {user} moving in with him. {sub} slept over most nights, anyway. This would just make it official, and save {user} the cost of rent for a place {sub} rarely slept in anymore.

Work dragged on. Every meeting took an extra ten minutes. Chris couldn’t stop watching clock, which only seemed to make it tick slower. He kept clicking his pen like he might be able to speed up the passage of time with a makeshift metronome.

Finally, thirty minutes later than usual, he left the office. He had half a mind to head straight home and find {user}, but he stopped at a grocery store and {user}’s favorite fast casual dining establishment.

He was an hour later than he would’ve liked to be by the time he finally opened the door to his apartment. It was quieter than usual, but {user}’s shoes were by the door, so he knew that {sub} hadn’t given up and left for the night.

“{user}?” He called out, toeing off his shoes because his hands were occupied with takeout and a cheerful little bouquet “Y’alright?”

The lack of answer made him nervous.

He set the takeout on the kitchen counter and headed deeper into the apartment, bouquet still in hand.

“{user}?” He called out again, his drawl a little thicker with nerves. “Darlin’, I’m sorry I’m late. Work was a sonuva today,”

Finally, a sign of {user}. A light from the en suite master bathroom. Movement inside.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” he said as he approached the bathroom door. It was cracked open just enough for light to spill out. He knocked lightly before nudging it open.

His shoulders slumped slightly with relief as his eyes finally landed on {user}, only for the look on {poss} face to send a new wave of dread through him.

“Darlin’,” Chris said, his voice going soft and low as he crossed over to where {sub} sat on the edge of the bathtub. He lowered himself to one knee in front of {user}, gently setting the bouquet in {poss} lap. “What’s got you so worked up?”

He reached up and nudged {poss} chin with his knuckle. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together, can’t we?”

Chris noticed {user}’s eyes were somewhere else, and his fell to follow {poss} gaze. A little white plastic device sat beside {poss} thigh on the edge of the bathtub. Little white stick with a little blue lid and a little display window.

He picked it up.

Two little lines.

Pregnant.

{User} was pregnant? Chris had thought he’d been careful. Although... there had been that night, weeks ago, he’d taken {obj} out to celebrate a good quarter at work. He’d gotten a little tipsier than he usually would’ve. He hadn’t been so careful with the condoms then.

A pit formed in his stomach. A little lump of dread that got heavier as visions of the worst possible outcome flashed through his head. He couldn’t handle another funeral, not at his age.

Chris tried to swallow down the panic and focus on his partner. {user} was probably scared. They’d never discussed children before. He set down the pregnancy test and took both of {user}’s hands in his.

He took one steadying breath before meeting {poss} eyes with a small smile on his lips. “This... this is wonderful, darlin’ fantastic timing, too. I brought the flowers ‘n’ dinner because I was fixing to ask you to move in with me.”

His right thumb ran over {user}’s knuckles, slow and soothing. “You look like you’re gonna puke on me, love. Deep breaths,” he said, making sure none of his own panic showed in his voice. “How ‘bout we go eat dinner ‘fore it gets cold? And we can talk about this while we eat. Or after. Whatever feels easier,”

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It had been over two decades since Chris last held baby clothes. Had they gotten smaller, or had he gotten bigger? He certainly wasn’t as slim as he’d been back in the day, but he hadn’t thought his hands had grown all that much. Now, staring down at a pair of baby socks that didn’t quite fill his palm, he wasn’t so sure. It felt impossible that there was a foot small enough to fit into these tiny socks with rubber ducks embroidered on the cuffs.

He carefully poked the embroidered element. The duck was small enough to fit on the nail of his little finger. He turned the socks over in his hand as the cheerful pop music continued to play quietly over the department store’s speaker system.

Just this morning, the prenatal app had told him that the baby was the size of a—pear? Apple?—something absurdly small and edible. Chris still couldn’t quite picture an entire pre-human at that scale.

These socks were certainly too big for an apple. That was soothing in the sense that it was a reminder that the tiny person he had a hand in making wouldn’t be tiny forever.

He was pulled from his sock crisis by movement in the periphery of his vision. {user} was on the move.

Chris quietly tucked the duck adorned socks into the cart as he stepped to keep pace with {user}. He’d taken some time off work today, to bring {user} shopping when the store should be less crowded. Whatever he could do to keep {user}’s stress levels low, he would.

The store’s PA system crackled as a chipper, muffled voice reported on this week’s sales and discounts. The noise faded into the background as Christopher’s eyes drifted over tiny overalls, dresses, and onesies. A sick mix of excitement and dread had been sitting in his stomach ever since {user} had shown him that positive pregnancy test. It still felt abstract, the idea of holding a baby. His baby.

The only time he’d ever come close before was cradling Annie’s stomach, and then lowering that tiny coffin into the ground.

That memory snuck up before he could stop it. The grief still ached, decades later, but it didn’t send him to the floor the way it used to. He breathed through it, one hand finding the small of {user}’s back as {sub} continued down the aisle to peruse the offerings.

“My ma said we should go easy on the shopping,” he said as {user} picked up a new item. “She’s got lots of baby clothes picked out for the little pumpkin...”

He trailed off as his eyes landed on the clothing in {user}’s hand. “That’s real sweet, though. A few more couldn’t hurt,”

The butterflies painted on the walls were doing little to calm Christopher’s nerves. He was tense, staring at the wall of the waiting room. The only gentle part of him was the hand holding {user}’s.

Chris took a slow breath, trying to quiet the anxiety fluttering in his chest. The waiting was the hard part. He couldn’t do anything productive. He couldn’t prevent anything. He couldn’t take action to make things okay. All he could do was wait, was hold {user}’s hand and hope. That was the scary stuff. That any number of things could be going wrong right inside the person Chris loved most, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but could’ve been five minutes, a door opened.

“{user}?” A nurse called from the doorway, holding a clipboard. Chris got to his feet and helped {user} to stand as well. His hand found the small of {user}’s back as they followed the nurse down the hall to the exam room.

He helped {user} get settled on the exam table before taking his seat beside {obj}, once again taking {poss} hand in his once they were both settled.

Chris was quiet as the nurse asked {user} questions and took notes. He stayed quiet as the nurse left and they waited for the ultrasound tech.

He kept a careful hold on {user}’s hand as his eyes stayed focused somewhere in the middle distance. His thumb slowly rubbed over {user}’s knuckles in a soothing gesture that was almost as much intended to ground himself.

Finally, the ultrasound tech came into the room, chipper and calm, and got to work with a steady flow of chatter that managed to be friendly without being overwhelming.

“Alrighty, parents, ready to meet your kid?” She asked as she got {user} ready for the ultrasound.

Chris nodded.

The ultrasound tech pressed the wand to {user}’s abdomen, slowly moving it until finding what she was looking for.

“Here we are,” she murmured as a tiny little blob appeared on the monitor. “That’s the baby,”

A quick, rhythmic sound filled the room as Chris’ eyes locked onto the baby on the screen. “That the heartbeat?” He asked past the sudden lump in his throat.

The ultrasound tech smiled and nodded as the expecting couple stared at the monitor. “It sounds good, nice and strong,” she explained cheerfully.

“Now, if we look over here...” she started as she moved the wand again. Then she paused. “Oh.”

Chris felt his stomach drop, dread swelling up like a wave meant to swallow him. “Oh what?” He asked too quickly, his eyes leaving the monitor to lock onto the ultrasound tech. “What’s wrong?”

The apartment was too quiet. Not literally. The Dallas Cowboys were playing on the tv, loud enough to fill the living room. It should have made things feel a little less empty. It didn’t. He couldn’t stop staring at his phone, refreshing every thirty seconds to make sure he was seeing {user}’s most updated location.

His jaw worked as he swiped back to their message thread, checking the last update {user} had sent half an hour ago. Nothing since his “Glad you’re having fun”.

His thumbs moved before he could stop them, typing out a message. “Can I get another check-in, sugar?”

He swallowed nothing, reading and rereading the message before deleting it. {user} was {poss} own person. Chris couldn’t get overbearing just because he’d knocked {obj} up. Despite every instinct screaming at him to get overbearing. {user} wouldn’t do anything stupid. {Sub} knew better than to endanger {ref}, let alone the baby. {user}’s friends were no threat either. They cared about {obj} almost as much as Chris did. They’d get {obj} back to him safe.

He took a slow breath and forced himself to put down his phone, trying to ignore the dread sitting heavy in his stomach.

It was halftime before Chris got a notification on his phone. He snatched it up so fast he almost sent it flying across the room in his haste.

Chelsea today @ 10:27 p.m. Chris, we’ve got all the details ironed out for {user}’s baby shower! We’ll see you guys on Saturday, party starting as eleven in the morning, at mom’s house. Can’t wait!

Chris’ jaw worked as he read the message three times. Like it might magically be from {user} on his next perusal. When the message didn’t morph before his eyes, he set the phone down and got to his feet.

His knees crackled as he straightened up.

He walked over to the bathroom, stood in the doorway for a solid fifteen seconds, then turned and paced back down the hall. He ended up in the kitchen. There was a spot on the counter. He grabbed a washcloth and wetted it, then wrung it out in the sink. His knuckles were white. His fingers trembled before he could stop them.

He got halfway toward the spot on the counter before beelining back to the living room, cloth still in hand, to check his phone. Just in case. Maybe it was on silent, or do not disturb. Maybe {user} needed him, and he’d missed something.

He dropped the cloth on the coffee table and snatched up his phone. His temple ached, and he finally realized his jaw was clenched.

Chris swallowed his disappointment at the lack of notifications and set his phone down a little too hard. He lumbered back into the kitchen with purpose, only to stall somewhere around the doorway, suddenly unsure why he went there in the first place.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of vague sport sounds from the television and tasks abandoned partway through.

Finally, finally, he heard keys in the door, and immediately abandoned the dust rag he’d been using in the half-painted nursery. By the time {user} opened the door, Chris was standing in the entryway, looking like he could’ve been waiting there all night.

A tiny bit of shame prickled at the back of his neck as he met his partner’s eyes. He shouldn’t be so intense about a simple evening out. But he was. Seeing {user} in once piece lowered his blood pressure almost immediately.

Shoulders lowering an inch, Chris crossed the entryway and wrapped his arms around {user} in silence.

I missed you.

Thank god you’re home.

I never want you out of my sight again.

All of his thoughts were too intense to voice. He pressed his lips firmly to the top of {user}’s head. “Have fun?” He asked gruffly.