Chapter Text
If someone had asked Dennis when he first started his rotation at the PTMC if he thought he’d be mated to the senior attending within a month, he’d think they were insane. If they then asked if, after mating him, did he think he’d get the man pregnant Dennis would’ve been checking them for some kind of head trauma. Now, however, he doesn’t think he’s been happier. Robby is no longer some unobtainable idol for Dennis to focus on, like any efforts towards pursuing the man would’ve been put to waste. The omega is quite literally Dennis’s everything. Which is why, despite how angry it makes the omega, he refuses to let Robby lift another piece of baby furniture even a centimeter.
“I can still use my arms!” Robby exclaims, very close to yanking the high chair out of Dennis’s grip. “I wasn’t even lifting anything heavy!”
Dennis acts like he’s contemplating, like this isn’t a conversation they had at the beginning of Robby’s pregnancy. The rule had been laid out by Dennis, in fact it was the only real rule Dennis had ever felt comfortable giving the man. No manual labor. Typically, that isn’t something Dennis would find himself worrying about. Robby has seen the inside of their toolbox maybe four times since getting with the younger alpha and, even then, it’s just to hand over a hammer or screwdriver to Dennis. Usually, he sits and supervises. More so that he can admire Dennis’s biceps rather than actually help. The only reason Dennis can supply for why Robby suddenly believes he can put anything together is maybe the fact that Robby is simply nesting.
He pretends to think for a couple seconds more before shaking his head. “Nope. You don’t need to be putting anything together with me here.”
Robby scoffs, rolling his eyes. This conversation has been one they’ve had numerous times during his pregnancy. And he’s not even that far into his second trimester yet. Dennis just can’t seem to relax, treating Robby like he’s something fragile and delicate. It’s utterly ridiculous. Especially considering this is the same young man who nearly knotted him in the hospital during his first rut.
“I’m perfectly capable of building a high chair.” Robby relents regardless, releasing his hold as Dennis shakes his head. “I’m at week 14, hardly anything is going on down there yet. The baby hasn’t even said hello aside from the ultrasound.”
“Yes, I understand that, but you know you’re at risk.” Dennis says, not unkindly as he gets to work assembling the rest of the chair. “And you haven’t been relaxing at work, so you agreed to let me at least take care of everything at home.”
“I didn’t say everything.”
Dennis sighs fondly, glancing over at where Robby has staked his claim on one of the dining room chairs. “Okay, most things. Since when do you put the furniture together?”
“Well it would’ve been since today if someone would let me.” Robby mutters, drumming his fingers over the oak table. “You know it’s hard for me.”
To relinquish control is left unspoken.
“I understand. And I thank you so much for being willing to let me handle as much as you are.” Dennis is adjusting the furniture, pressing it to test how sturdy it is before sliding it near Robby. “But you know you gotta take care of yourself too. Just because we passed the first trimester with no issues doesn’t mean there might not still be some hiccups.”
“I’m well aware.” Robby bites back, shooting an irritated look at Dennis. “Dr. Myers made that very clear. You don’t need to repeat it.” The reality was, and is, is that Robby is still at a very high chance of miscarriage. They both take it differently- Robby focuses more on work and trying to act ‘normal’ mainly because he’s afraid. Dennis, on the other hand, takes it as the chance to pamper Robby. To take as many things off his plate as possible to avoid any strain to him or the little one. Dennis tells Robby it’s a good chance to learn to work under pressure. Robby doesn’t seem to find that very amusing.
Despite the mutual anxieties, their pregnancy is supremely lucky. They both agreed Robby would need more frequent ultrasounds- to check up on the baby and Robby and make sure everything was good to go. The first one had merely been to confirm what the tests had already declared to the both of them. Robby is absolutely pregnant, there’s no denying that.
The next ultrasound, maybe two weeks at most after the first, had focused on making sure the heartbeat was normal. Robby remembers releasing a relieved sigh at the knowledge that there were no irregularities or any chance that there were multiple fetuses. Dennis had been his rock at that appointment, rubbing his hand and making sure he knew the younger was there for him. While Robby is very grateful his body is able to even carry their kid- the idea of having more than one baby at his age made him want to throw up. He’s pretty sure the thought actually did make him throw up, the idea of that coupled with the anxiety of the appointment making him significantly more nervous.
Now, instead of being anxious, he feels a bit smothered. Everyone at the PTMC is aware of his pregnancy, at least the ones on a need to know basis which includes damn near everyone. It makes Robby feel awkward, medical students and residents trying to simultaneously get his help as an attending and then fret over him like he’s some kind of child. Robby genuinely thinks hell has frozen over when Dana asks him to make sure he watches his coffee intake. As if she doesn’t go through three cans of Celsius a shift. Dennis had only earned a seething glare once, after a poorly timed inquiry on if Robby remembered to take his vitamins as Robby was actively swallowing them down. Dennis did not ask Robby about his med schedule anymore after that. At the hub at least.
But, much to Robby’s vast annoyance, they’re not at the Pitt which means Dennis has full reign to worry about Robby without getting in trouble at work. Which includes refusing to let Robby do fucking anything. And in some cases, Dennis is completely fair in that regard. Like when he found Robby trying to hunt for something in the attic, the ladder a little bit unstable. Robby had earned an hour of being forced to sit on the couch because, while Dennis would never yell at him, Dennis had nearly had a heart attack.
Robby wants to argue that this isn’t one of those moments. He knows Dennis will say it most definitely is.
“I know you remember what she said.” Dennis tuts, sliding into the seat next to Robby. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, okay? You watch out for our baby while I take care of my baby, hmm?”
The pet name has Robby huffing a short laugh despite himself. “Oh shut up.” He hates to admit the soft way Dennis handles him has its perks, even with how frustrating it may get at times. “When did you get all soft on me?”
“Maybe when I found you in pediatrics my first day.” He bumps Robby’s shoulder with his own, eyes filled with intense love and admiration. “There’s nothing wrong with needing help, you know.” A hand comes up to gently rub over the bump, no bigger than a tad bit of bloating, but large enough it rests comfortably in Dennis’s palm. It always helps soothe Robby even if he complains about how touchy Dennis is lately.
Robby pauses, swallowing another laugh before shaking his head. “No, there’s not. You were soft on me then? Covered in blood and crying my eyes out?”
“Impossible not to be. Saw you in a way no one else has.” Dennis shrugs, kissing Robby’s shoulder. “Think that’s when I knew I wanted to make you feel good all the time.” Dennis stands by the fact he wants to be good for Robby. And he would argue he’s done a fantastic job so far.
“Arguably too much. Look at where that got us.”
“Oops.” Dennis chuckles, smiling wider at the way Robby’s eyes crinkle from his own grin. “Now what else were you trying to assemble behind my back?”
Robby is silent for a beat before sighing, clearly found out. “The stupid crib.” It was the one thing Robby keeps fretting over. Dennis had asked what the point of having it built so early on was but Robby had insisted. ‘What if they’re a preemie?! Then they’ll have no bed!’
Later Robby would insist he didn’t lose his mind over having a baby at 11 weeks and Dennis wouldn’t pry.
“Well, how about you go eat lunch and I work on that? So they have somewhere to sleep. Just in case.”
“Fine.”
Robby thinks that if he spends one more aggravating second trying to organize the emergency bag he’s going to gouge his own eyes out. The amount of times he’s watched the diapers spill out, followed by potential teethers and baby wipes, has him tempted to just rip the whole thing apart entirely and throw it out the window. The worst part is he only has himself to blame. The whole stupid idea had been his.
Always one to overthink, Robby had begun to worry that, should anything happen where the baby decided to kickstart any labor, he wouldn’t be prepared. His therapist suggests maybe that’s because he struggles with situations he has no control over. Robby pretends that they didn’t suggest that. Plenty of new fathers worry about if their infant doesn’t have enough formula, should they not produce enough. Or any. And at 24 weeks he’s already behind.
Dr. Myers tells him it’s not too far off from the average. It could be hormones or any other reason causing a lull in this typical milk production- Robby still made enough, very typical of a male omega at least. Robby takes that information and compartmentalizes it. Not to justify it to himself, but more to use as fuel to the fire of the fact that his body clearly isn’t suited for a baby. Too many stressful shifts and not enough of the love and care Dennis has been preaching to him about consistently since the day those pregnancy tests came back rearing their ugly heads. Robby knows that he’s probably experiencing swelling to some degree. Dr. Myers tells him this too. But since Robby can’t see it, he decides to assume the worst.
And, more unfortunately, Dennis hears his parade of swears from downstairs. This much is obvious as he cracks open the door to the nursery. “Michael,” he starts softly but Robby is already holding up his hand, not willing to listen to any more gentle coaxing.
“Dennis, now is not the time.”
“You’re right. Maybe it’s not the time to be worrying about the hospital checklist.” Dennis says, ignoring the way Robby glowers at him.”Your glares mean nothing to me at this point by the way.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Robby snaps, wrestling with the corduroy fabric of the bag one last time before swearing harshly and slamming it on the floor. Once again, baby wipes and disposable underwear spill in a pathetic heap on the carpet. Robby takes one shaky inhale, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. One more thing and he will fucking-
“You’re overfilling it-” Dennis tries again, unaware of the way in which he’s just set Robby off.
“I KNOW!” explodes out of Robby, jerking his head up at the hall to scowl at the younger. “I fucking know! Stop talking!” It has little effect on Dennis, who has begun to realize with the finish line approaching, Robby’s own sanity is quickly following suit. “I can’t fucking sleep, my back is fucking killing me, and if I have to pee one more goddamn time I’m ripping out my fucking bladder!” He closes his eyes, like the sight of the younger man who’d done this to him is just too much.
At this point the baby is the size of a zucchini- which for some reason still feels way too small to Robby given the pain that’s been slowly building up, aggravated by busy shifts spent on his feet and already existing back pain. His feet are always some level of swollen, even with the foot rubs Dennis tries to offer as a gentle form of solace from carrying all of this extra weight. Hell, he’d had a nosebleed all over his work station out of nowhere, feeling a slight tingle in the back of his nose and suddenly his entire keyboard was ruined. That had been a shitshow as Dana freaked, trying to get him to lean his head down to avoid choking on it. Dennis had nearly had his own heart attack coming from a case to see his omega bleeding all over the place. Robby did not enjoy that day.
The fact of the matter is this- Robby is sick and tired of being sick and tired. He’s fucking sick of being pregnant. He’s so tired and exhausted and he just wants the fucking baby out-
Oh.
He pauses as he feels his bump gently lifted, Dennis having made his way into the nursery and behind Robby. The cramping in his abdomen dies down, just enough for Robby to take a slow, deep breath. “What are you doing-?”
“It helps. I, uh, read some articles online. It’s kinda like when you prop your bump on a pillow.” Dennis supplies as a reason, nuzzling into the back of Robby’s neck. “Is-is it helping?” He’s meek, not because he’s worried Robby will snap at him but that Robby will work himself up again. That the older man won’t just give himself a break.
Robby swallows, inhales once more and sighs. “Yeah. Actually. Thanks.” He sinks into the younger’s chest, anger seemingly seeping out of him by the second. His heart clenches uncomfortably once he registers his own words, a bad taste left in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
Dennis shrugs, humming softly. “I don’t get offended by it. I know you’re just in pain.” He pauses, as if thinking over if there’s anything else he wants to add. “I just wish you’d take leave. I’m sure they’d understand.”
“Dennis.”
“Michael,” Dennis huffs into the back of his neck, “you are overworking yourself. You promised you’d slow down.”
“I’m practically just charting at this rate. I still have 15 more weeks to go before this little shit says it’s time to go.” Robby has said this so many times he’s starting to lose count. Maybe somewhere in the 1000s at this point. Even with the risk of the baby being premature, mainly because Robby is afraid to voice it aloud.
Dennis knocks his forehead into his shoulder, a tired chuckle shaking his body against the man’s back. “I swear you’re going to work yourself into an early grave. Please. Just for me? Start taking it easy?”
Robby thinks it over. Really and truly. He knows it’s something he really needs to work on, the brushing off of Dennis’s concerns. While Dennis has been great at helping with the baby stuff- Robby hardly lets Dennis actually help him. He’s opened up a little bit, but overall is only merely cracking the door in the face of Dennis’s true efforts. He’s so lucky Dennis is as patient as he is. If it were up to Robby he’d have thrown in the towel a long time ago.
He takes in another deep breath before melting into the man’s arms. A dead weight partially made of a baby bump, but mostly a tired old man. “I guess I can try.”
“What was that? Michael Robinavitch saying he’s going to take it easy?” Dennis teases in mock shock. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to work doubles actually.”
“Over my dead body.” Dennis scoffs, “you’re staying right here in my arms where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Great- I’ve got a needy baby and a needy alpha. Mazel tov.” Robby rolls his eyes to the high heavens, ignoring the smile that makes its way across his face.
“Damn right.” Dennis confirms. “And what I need is for you to stay still for once.”
Robby hums noncommittally, his eyes sliding shut once more as he takes in the comforting scent of the alpha. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”
Robby really wishes he’d listened to Dennis. That he actually takes it easy and doesn’t continue to overwork himself. But since when has Robby ever listened when people have asked him to take care of himself? The chances have always been slim to none. And, at 37 weeks pregnant, it seems that he’s intent on working until he pops.
He just didn’t think it’d be so literal.
He also thinks he’s glad Dennis is at least on the floor with him when it happens.
It’s finally the end of a painfully long shift. Emphasis on painful as Robby grunts, rubbing his back once more. “Jesus- fuck.” He mutters, eyes nearly crossing at the pain.
Right as Dennis is about to ask about the possibility of it being a contraction- Robby’s water breaks.
Dennis is right in one regard. He does keep Robby in his arms throughout the whole thing, even with Robby in a state of combined shock, pain, and panic.
Robby thinks, somewhere along the line, when the OB is handling him and Dennis is freaking out, that everything goes a little muffled. He remembers something hurting. Badly. Like his body is being ripped open and flipped inside out. At some point, everything fades to black.
The first thought Robby has is there is no fucking way I’m dying right now. The second thought is Christ, what the hell is that light?
Robby thinks that he’s very lucky it’s the fluorescent lights of the hospital, beaming down onto him in a way that’s a lot more comfortable than any pearly gates. He registers something- no, someone crying. He blinks, eyes feeling useless and heavy as he drifts his gaze to where Dennis and their baby are mutually crying.
Their baby?
“I told you,” Dennis hiccups, the bundle of the baby nestled against his heart protectively. “I said to stop overworking yourself and look what happens!”
Robby tilts his head, looks down at the crying baby, and giggles. The soft blonde hair and round face are immediately telling.
“She looks like you.” He croaks out, voice raspy and cracked like he’s been through war. Robby feels like he has at this point.
Dennis laughs through his tears, leaning closer so Robby can get a good view of her.
“She’s 11 pounds.” Dennis chuckles, like he can’t believe it. Robby hardly can either. “No abnormalities- perfectly healthy baby.” His voice is still thick with congestion and sobs. Robby thinks he hates the way it sounds. He hates when Dennis cries.
“She’s perfect.” Robby whispers, eyes glazing over with unshed tears as he looks down at her. “I love you.” He says, down to the grumpy infant. “I love you.” He says again, tapping Dennis’s nose.
He doesn’t worry about asking about the gory details. He’s kind of grateful he wasn't awake for it.
“I love you too.” Dennis coos, fierce and loving all in one. “Look at her. You did that.”
“Mmm. It was a group effort.” Robby says fondly. “Did you name her?”
“Not without you.” It’s worded in a way that Robby wonders if Dennis had almost had to name her without him. Robby puts that in the back of his mind- they’ll worry about it later.
“How about Livia?” Robby suggests, taking the wriggling mass of limbs from Dennis’s arms. “Our little lionness.” He coos, holding her tight as Dennis kisses his head.
“It’s perfect.” Dennis whispers. “She’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect.” Robby sighs, impossibly fond. It’s directed at both blondes in the room. Robby briefly wonders if he should be irritated that he carried the damn girl for nine months only for her to be an exact copy of the younger alpha. He supposes it’s nice, to a degree, to have a clone of the person he adores most.
He hums softly and turns to Dennis, smiling hard. “We should get married.”
Dennis chokes on his laughter with more tears, nodding fast.