Chapter Text
There are a lot of things that Jeff won’t ask out of respect for Harry’s privacy. It doesn’t matter how many years they’ve been married, or how many children Jeff has watched as they’re removed from Harry’s body. It doesn’t matter that Jeff knows that the cute little squeeze bottles that Harry has in the bathroom are not for drinking. It’s not his business.
That philosophy, however, gets thrown out the window when Harry becomes the crankiest he’s ever been, possibly in his entire life. He’s not malicious or snappy (because even at the worst of times he’s still unfairly kind) but Jeff can tell that he’s incredibly uncomfortable.
Jeff was standing right there when the doctor made the decision to cut the opening so all nine pounds and five ounces of River could be safely born. And Jeff was still there when they stitched Harry back up, trying not to visibly wince when he risked a glance down there.
Still, he doesn’t want to outright ask Harry if it’s the healing incision that’s bothering him. He already knows the answer: Yes.
Harry has taken to waddling around the house when he’s up and moving around. He sits down very gingerly, sometimes turning ashen and breathing through what Jeff assumes to be an alarming amount of pain. Otherwise, Harry spends a lot of time in bed for the first few days that River is home snoozing through nursing—which is going swimmingly—and watching daytime TV.
He helps Jeff with dinner and sits at the table with him and the boys to eat. Jeff watches as Harry eats normally at first, but slowly devolves to only picking at his plate, eating less with each passing day.
After a full week of Harry looking increasingly miserable, Jeff decides that enough is enough.
He approaches cautiously. Harry is lying on the couch, spooning his pregnancy pillow, arms wrapped around it, a section of it wedged in between his thighs, cheek smushed against the top. Overall, he looks rather pathetic, and Jeff would feel bad about ambushing him when he’s vulnerable but it’s in his best interest.
Jeff joins him on the couch and rearranges Harry’s feet so they’re resting in his lap and starts rubbing them. He’s hoping that a little foot massage might soften the blow.
“Hey, kid. How’re you holding up?”
“Fine,” Harry mumbles, wiggling his toes.
Jeff nods and takes a deep breath. “I, uh. Noticed something. In the bathroom cabinet.”
Harry glances at him over his shoulder suspiciously, cheeks turning pink.
Jeff continues. “Are you having, like, bathroom issues?”
Harry sits up quicker than Jeff has seen him do so in months, grimacing as he does. “We’re not doing this right now. Or, like, ever,” he rushes.
“Babe,” Jeff grabs Harry’s wrist. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m not judging.”
“I don’t care if you’re judging or not, I’m not talking to you about this.” Harry lets out a short, panicky laugh.
“Have you talked to the doctor yet? I know it can...take a while. For things to start working right again. I remember that from the first time around. But it’s been a week. That’s a long time to have not...pooped.”
After pulling his wrist from out of Jeff’s hand, Harry glares at him, gathers his pillow, and stalks down the hall without saying another word.
Well, that could have gone better, Jeff thinks.
***
Jeff decides to take matters into his own hands.
The stuff Harry had in the bathroom was some type of fiber tablet. Jeff does a quick Google search and finds out that such things are usually a first step when trying to combat constipation. Given the way that Harry has continued to mope around the house and discreetly rub his bloated stomach, the tablets are clearly not helping much.
Under the guise of a quick grocery store trip, Jeff brings in the big gun: MiraLax. He also grabs a gallon of milk because Harry’s last baking session used up the last of what they had. For good measure, he decides to buy a six-pack of Activia yogurt and some flushable wipes. If he’s doing this, he’s doing this right.
He keeps them hidden when he returns home. After last time, he won’t make the same mistake twice. He has to do this artfully. Subtle . Anything else is just going to spook Harry and back him further into a corner.
All three kids are down for a nap and like some sort of cosmic joke, Jeff finds Harry walking out of their master bathroom.
Shuffling the bag behind his back, Jeff tries to ask a question without actually asking, sending Harry a meaningful look.
Harry ducks his head. “Nope,” he says to their bedroom carpet.
Jeff makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry.”
Clearly eager to change the subject, Harry points and asks, “What’s in the bag?”
Things aren’t going according to plan.
“Nothing. Just some stuff.”
Harry hesitates. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“I’m not acting weird.”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry says, “Yes you are. Why won’t you tell me what you bought?”
“It’s a surprise,” Jeff blurts.
“I don’t want to be surprised. I wanna know what you have behind your back, you walnut.”
So much for artfulness and subtlety. Sighing, Jeff dumps the contents of the bag rather unceremoniously on the bed.
Harry stands next to him and eyes the items silently. He hums thoughtfully and nudges Jeff’s arm with his elbow. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
Jeff pulls Harry in by the waist, rubbing his hip with his thumb. “I just want you to be healthy and comfortable.”
Groaning, Harry says, “God, we’re those horrible married people, aren’t we? The ones with absolutely zero mystery in their relationship.”
“The mystery ended when you had me pop that ingrown hair on your ass.”
Harry turns his face into Jeff’s chest and laughs. “That was an emergency. I thought it was infected.”
“Still happened, though.”
Turning his attention back to the bed, Harry turns over one of the items Jeff bought. He reads the package and scoffs.
“Wipes ? You got me diaper wipes?” The plastic package crinkles dejectedly as Harry drops it back on the duvet.
“Uh, no. Those aren’t diaper wipes, they’re wipes for adults,” Jeff corrects. “We have plenty of diaper wipes in this house and I thought about giving you some but I didn’t, because I’m nice.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m just trying to help.” Jeff ruffles Harry’s hair and is deeply pleased when he tries to bat his hands away.
“Stop that—stop,” Harry breathes on a laugh. “Thank you. I appreciate your efforts. Even though I’d rather you stay blissfully ignorant to the conflicts I have with my intestines.”
“The MiraLax is supposed to be good. I read reviews about it and everything. The yogurt and wipes were just for fun.”
Harry bites his lip to try and stifle his smile. “I hate you. I love you, but I still hate you.”
“Wonderful. Now, let’s go. We have to dissolve this in water so you can take it.” Jeff tosses the purple and white bottle in the air and catches it, his smile probably hedging into maniacal territory if Harry’s worried expression is anything to go by.
***
A full twenty-four hours pass with constant updates but no results. Jeff tries to keep Harry as rallied as possible, but he can tell that he’s disheartened. He’s trying to not let it affect his own optimism.
Jeff feels bad even suggesting that Harry try to wait it out, so he takes another trip to the store. He browses the designated section of the pharmacy with increasing urgency. Most of the available medications have the same ingredients as the MiraLax and he doesn’t want to buy the same thing twice. A few people pass by him and give him sympathetic looks and he accepts them, despite how much he’d like to say, “No, don’t worry. They’re not for me. My husband just had a baby and he hasn’t shit in over a week.” He opts to save Harry the embarrassment, even though he’s not here to bear it.
Suddenly, a different box catches Jeff’s eye. Harry isn’t going to be happy, but it’s still worth a shot. Jeff heads to the checkout.
***
“No. Absolutely not.” Harry crosses his arms. His glare is positively icy.
Jeff tries to touch Harry’s forearm, but he steps back before he can make contact. “C’mon. It might make you feel better. You’ll never know unless you try.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t patronize me. You’re an asshole for even bringing those home. I should make you do one, if you think it’s so funny.”
“I—I didn’t buy them to be funny. I’m genuinely trying to help!”
“I wish I never told you about this,” Harry snaps.
“In sickness and in health, right?” Jeff asks, sarcasm dripping off every word.
River takes the opportunity to start crying then, saving them from a potential argument. Harry takes the baby to go feed him and Jeff accepts his dismissal, checking on the twins in their play area.
The rest of the day is awkward. Every time Jeff tries to touch Harry, he scurries away. Jeff makes the mistake of telling him he might be acting a bit over dramatic and Harry just smiles pleasantly. It’s more concerning than if he were to tell Jeff to fuck off.
It takes until later that night, after the boys are settled in their cribs and either asleep or well on their way to asleep, that Harry finally relaxes a bit. Jeff has to keep reminding himself that Harry isn’t upset just for the sake of it; it is embarrassing, and as much as Harry would like to live under the illusion that Jeff is unaware that he has some unsavory bodily functions, it’s not reality, and having to confront that likely isn’t fun for him.
Jeff was expecting the pregnancy pillow to act as an impromptu barrier between them in bed tonight, but instead, Harry cuddles up to him and sticks one of his freezing cold hands under Jeff’s t-shirt, resting it on his stomach. Jeff sucks in air through his teeth. “Easy there, ice princess.”
“You’re warm,” Harry says, unbothered, his head on Jeff’s chest.
Jeff gets an arm around him and pulls him even closer. “Sorry if I upset you today. It wasn’t my intention.”
With a sigh, Harry says, “I know. I’m sorry for overreacting. I know you’re just trying to help.”
“I meant it when I said in sickness and in health. You always take care of me and the boys when we’re not feeling well like it’s no big deal. The least I can do is try to extend you the same courtesy.”
“Yeah, but this is embarrassing. Like, the most embarrassing.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I clogged a school toilet once, so badly that they had to keep it out of order for a week?” Jeff tries.
Harry snorts. “That actually does help a little bit.”
They’re both quiet for a while, and Jeff thinks that Harry is actually asleep until he breaks the silence.
“I think it’s more like...mind over matter at this point,” Harry says softly. “I’m so afraid of hurting the stitches that I’m, like, preventing myself from going.”
“Didn’t the doctor say that it’s nearly impossible to pull the stitches, though?”
“Yeah, she said that, but it doesn’t mean I’m not worried about it happening anyway,” Harry mumbles darkly.
“I think you should trust her, babe. You’ve been miserable.”
Harry tilts his head up to meet Jeff’s eyes, shy but smiling. “I’ll try one of those horrible things you bought me tomorrow. Put it in the hands of the higher powers—my organs be damned. If you hear me singing “Jesus Take the Wheel” then you’ll know that it’s happening whether I want it to or not.”
Jeff has to cover his mouth with a hand to muffle his laughter, otherwise he’d wake the kids. He pats Harry on the back. “That’s the spirit. See, I knew the suppositories were gonna be a good choice.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry moves back so he’s resting on his own pillow, but still keeps his hand under Jeff’s shirt. “Goodnight, Jeffrey.”
***
Harry runs down the hall like he’s being chased by a bear. Placidly, Jeff just watches and continues to rock River in his swing seat using his foot. Jude and Eli are in front of him on the carpet, engrossed in the original cartoon version of 101 Dalmatians because his kids are going to be educated on classic Disney films if he has anything to say about it.
He waits until Cruella de Vil has stolen the puppies and for River to officially be asleep before he heads down the hall. After a pit stop to put River in his crib, Jeff knocks on the bathroom door.
“You okay in there?”
Harry’s voice is muffled by the door. “I’m gonna ruin these stitches. Fuck what the doctor said, they’re gonna rip.”
“Harry, relax. They’re not gonna rip. Don’t...don’t, uh, push. And you’ll be fine.”
“Shut up. You have no idea what this is like right now.”
“Have I told you that I love you lately?”
“I don’t love you right now. This is your fault. You got me pregnant and you made me give birth to your monster-headed children.”
Arguing with him will be futile right now so Jeff doesn’t bother. “I’m sorry. Is yelling at me helping at all?”
“...Yes.”
Jeff can’t resist the temptation, so he turns up the volume on his phone and starts to play “Let it Go” from the Frozen soundtrack. Within ten seconds, Harry is yelling at him to leave or face bodily harm. Giggling like a child, Jeff takes up residence on their bed and scrolls through his phone, giving Harry his privacy again.
Harry doesn’t emerge until a half-hour later, after Jeff has already put Jude and Eli down for their naps, looking almost as weary as he did during labor and delivery only a handful of days ago. He turns on the bathroom fan vent and shuts the door quickly.
“We have to move,” Harry says.
“What?”
“We need to move to a new house immediately. I can’t live here anymore knowing what just happened in that bathroom.”
“That bad, huh?” Jeff asks.
“Stop talking to me. That was mean, what you did. With the song.” Harry’s smiling, though. So he can’t be that mad.
“Do you at least feel better now?”
Harry knees onto the bed and faceplants, letting out a long breath. “Yes,” he says blissfully. “You can have the next baby. This factory is closed. Because if I ever have to go through that again, I’ll actually die.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the right parts.”
“What a shame that is,” Harry says flatly.
Jeff pulls Harry up so they can lie side-by-side. “Well, at least now we know that suppositories work way faster than oral medication.”
Harry looks unimpressed. “Yeah, I’m so happy I was able to find that out firsthand.”
One of the kids starts to cry down the hall, and judging by the distinct cat-like quality to it, it’s likely River. Jeff gets up before Harry can and urges him back down when he tries to follow.
“No,” Jeff says, “You stay here and enjoy your post-poop glow. I’ll deal with the baby.”
Harry flips him the middle finger while Jeff walks away laughing. Truly, there is never a dull moment.