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being in the bathroom at 2:17am is quite the experience. it’s bad enough that reagan felt this god awful, but she felt smaller already. sure, leaning over the toilet made sense when you were blackout drunk a few hours prior, but it felt like it didn’t make any sense now. that probably made no sense to anyone outside of reagan’s mind, but it made sense to her. plus, by healthy tradition, a little typically had a caregiver to help them when they got sick. she technically could do that, but god forbid she’d let herself go and probably bother her two boyfriends with her ‘childish’ problems.
‘damn you regression genes’
she wished she wasn’t biologically a little sometimes. ok well, more than sometimes. as someone who couldn’t afford to ever fully regress or experience being small growing up or during her teen years, having to suddenly deal with it is a much bigger task than she thought. everything she’d worked so hard to repress throughout the years was starting to fall through. her monthly shots and daily patches she’d used to block her regression weren’t enough anymore. well, she wasn’t getting the shots anymore, and her patches/pills had been hidden and restricted from her. so checkmate to her.
her parents were both neutrals. how lucky she was with the genes she managed to strike. the only reassurance she’d ever gotten from them was her father tossing a box of patches at her while mentioning how “while i may have messed with your DNA, i sure as hell did not give you that.” which, of course, was exactly was young tween genius reagan ridley needed to hear.
‘fucking bullshit’
the longer the woman sat her on her knees in this dimly lit bathroom, the worse her head hurt. the worse her stomach hurt. the worse the dots behind her eyes continued to dizzy and daze her. the worse she really, really, really wanted brett and ron. she didn’t really know how long she’d been there. maybe just a few minutes since she’d carefully but quickly sprung out of bed; maybe it had been an hour already.
reagan clumsily wiped off her mouth with some toilet paper before flushing away the contents of whatever she’d drank hours earlier. she adjusted her position so her back could rest against the toilet while she sat on the floor. it wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but it felt like sweet relief to her knees already. but still, getting up felt like way too big a task already.
theoretically, cleaning up what little puddles hadn't fully made it to the toilet would be ideal. it made the whole bathroom stink; smell just like how she felt. maybe she was sitting in some of it right now and didn’t know it. who cared anyways?
the winds had changed mentally for the scientist. now she didn’t want her boyfriends to help her at all. the utter humiliation of what had come of her at this moment overpowered the comfort and reassurance she knew she needed. what originally felt like a curse now felt like a blessing- or half a blessing. still feeling like shit wasn’t exactly a blessing in reagan’s book, but hey, she wasn’t throwing up anymore and she wasn’t fully regressed either. win-win.
she won, for now. crowned the winner in her own mind, till she remembered that in order to fully succeed, she’d have to get up. goddammit.
—————————
both of reagan’s angels in suits were still in bed. brett still fully asleep, bless his heart; the other however was half awake. ron had never been the deepest sleeper in the world, but he’d reminiscent on those facts later. he’d felt someone swiftly get up and run towards the bathroom. the answer of who came easy when he heard his boyfriend snore. there were no doubts that reagan could be independent and sometimes reluctant to help, but it had been a good 15-20 minutes since ron had heard her get up.
they’d gone out drinking as an established relationship together before now, so he knew what hangover habits his partners had. brett tended to crash hard and drink/eat a ton when he woke up. ron himself would also crash, but he was an affectionate drunk, like reagan. but reagan herself had habits of vomiting and sometimes even falling ill if she did enough damage in a night.
he felt pretty damn bad already about the fact it had taken his slowly sobering self take this long to go to their girlfriend’s help. ron gently reached over an arm to shake brett awake.
“brettt,,,,,,brett,,,,,,,wake up hun- i think rea is gettin sick again,,”
it took a few shakes to reactivate brett’s brain, but it only took a second for him to be 75% awake when he heard his boyfriend mention that their girlfriend might be getting sick. both men were up and moving in no time; both thanking their stars that they hadn’t gotten as shit-faced this time as their third partner might be in the next room over.
if you asked either man why reagan might get so sick after drinking, they’d blame it on the amount of medical damage that’d been done to reagan throughout her life thus far. the amount of clinical harm that had been done to her little space broke them both.
brett had sensed that there had been something slightly off about his now girlfriend when they both first met. she had been intense already, but it became apparent to him that she had been mentally strained by something other than just work. at that time though, he’d said nothing when his curious eye had seen the boxes upon boxes of regression blockers in reagan’s lab. the caregiver part of him had only wished that maybe, maybe he’d be able to help her one day. it’d taken a long time for him to accept his own classification, so he had hoped he could help his best business friend (of the time).
ron had had the same suspensions and questions when he first met reagan at anon-anon. he could sense the woman’s slight misjudgment of a split second of smallness when they had had their moment together in the head of the owl all those nights ago. (she’d let her guard down so quickly, it had dented the effectiveness of the patch she had at the time.) ron saw firsthand the documentation of the shots his girlfriend would get each month. the shots she’d gotten since she was 13 years old, still too young to be denying herself what was written into her goddamn dna and biology. he had gotten shots too when he was first hired at the illuminati, but that changed when he and a few of his coworkers had protested about being their true selves in their lines of work.
it bothered him enough to talk to brett about it one day. they had relished and confided in one another one day after a coffee. both then knew the other was a classified caregiver, and that the common goal was to help reagan. the also shared love would follow them in their pursuits as well. brett would confess to both of them one late night after hours in reagan’s lab, and both would return the feelings (mostly reagan though, since brett and ron had already talked aka the former had accidentally blurted it out).
now, they both knew what most likely had to be done. their girlfriend needed them both, whether she was big or small. they’d only been able to care for her once prior to that, but they’d make the most of what little knowledge they did know. with now 4 months of reagan being patch, pill, and shot free, the true healing of reagan’s little space would be in some full swing; the most it had even been in her life.
both men had the same common goal even now, ‘help reagan.’
—————-
the star of the current evening hour was still on the floor. her head was swimming in confusion and still a faint static from thinking too hard about everything. despite her internal and apparent external battles from the last hour or so, she still didn’t exactly want ron and brett to find her; she wanted to be strong and big enough to go to them herself. that wasn’t happening anytime soon though (to her knowledge at least).
she’d only turned on one light near the bathroom’s entrance, so she couldn’t exactly see much beyond her still current position on the floor. she didn’t need to see where the footsteps were coming from though. she’d taken too long to recover, spent too long in her own head. as soon as she caught the smallest sound she knew her time to be big was up. reagan wasn’t going to be forced to be small, of course not; she just naturally slipped when her boyfriends came to her rescue whenever she needed it really. she still hadn’t accepted the biological part of her that sought out comfort from her boyfriends turned caregivers. maybe she would one day, just not now.
hushed voices turned to soft whispers. the two men redirected their hushed concerns to more vocal directions that faced reagan.
“hey, reagan? everything ok?”
that sounded like brett.
“reagan, where are you?”
that was ron.
she was both grateful and almost disappointed that they hadn’t used a nickname or pet name. she really needed to make up her mind on what she did and didn’t want.
the girl gave no response. the only semi-clear indicator that she even was in the bathroom with the other two was her accidentally bonking her head on the toilet. it didn’t even hurt that bad, but the fact that it happened and made a noise finally released her tears. all her big and older mindset-ed progress had crumpled. faint echos of sniffles and sobs flowed through the air. shiny tears coated her cheeks in salt-flavored streaks. she felt so young and alone, too small to be on her own, yet here she was.
she practically felt the shadow of her partners looming over her, like two cats cornering a mouse. only this wasn’t like being caught in something that would get her in trouble. she had been caught, but was going to be rescued.
it started with soft coos and quiet whispers of sympathy. the boys knew that had they been any louder with their sympathies it would have made their little one more upset. yet they couldn’t help what did slip through; it was natural instinct for both of them. they could practically feel the dread and shame radiating off of reagan. that wouldn’t do.
from her sitting point on the floor, she was guided by the armpits into a standing position. she didn’t have much balance though, but that was ok. reagan registered these hands helping her to be brett’s. soft, not completely damaged by work. he worked out enough to have the strength to pick her up anyways, so it made sense. she’d love it if everything else could make sense. she knew that she didn’t make sense. for a person who worked with robotics and math that usually managed to make sense, why couldn’t she herself make sense?
reagan’s mental debasing halted some when her thighs were suddenly cold. she’d forgotten that she was only in a big shirt and some boxers. brett had set her on the counter and was now trying to be as quiet as possible while going through a cabinet that was close to her dangling socked feet.
ron had disappeared back into the hall. he came back with a washcloth in hand, one of the ones she liked in specific. they were nice and soft to her skin, not rough like the ones her caregivers boyfriends liked to use. her focus was redirected temporarily to brett who’d now found what he’d been looking for. it was a new pack of pacifiers, the ones reagan had been seen staring at while shopping one time.
“curious, why’d you hide them in there?” ron questioned, currently running the washcloth under some warm water.
“eh, it’s a place that’s good for hiding things, i guess. didn’t want- reagan to find em, lovingly” brett replied with no bite to his words. he really wanted to use a pet name but didn’t for the sake of his still spiral girlfriend. he settled for gently rubbing her knee.
both men looked up at the little when there was a lack of reaction to what brett held in his free hand. reagan had stared off into what seemed like nothing, till they noticed she was staring at a puddle of puke she’d made earlier. her arms were crossed and her lower lip trembled, her eyes full of tears. a light dusting of blush covered her cheeks and the very tips of her ears. both just wanted to hold, coddle, and reassure her with all the love they had in them that it was ok; but alas, they had jobs to do first.
ron took over for taking care of reagan; brett decided to start cleaning duty elsewhere. (both knew there was no favoritism or exclusion when it came to caring for their girlfriend. they were equals in each other's eyes, neither a source of competition. they’d make sure to always trade-off and do their best to make it fair.)
the ex-illuminati man gently tilted his little’s face towards him and began to clean her face off. reagan avoided all eye contact and had a sad frown on her face. ron cleaned her lips and chin of vomit, her cheeks of tear tracks; reagan just meekly whimpered and whined the whole time. she constantly took an angry curled up fist to harshly wipe her eyes, but staedler wasn’t having that. the latter would gently re-guide her hands to her lap or somewhere else. maybe it took a few kisses on the forehead and some words of encouragement to get the girl to brush her teeth, but they made it work. he made sure to give her that little bit of control that she wanted right now by letting her brush her own teeth. he took a brush to her slightly knotted hair and took great care in running his fingers through it. by the time reagan was ready to spit her toothpaste out, her hair had been fully brushed and put into a new ponytail.
brett was cleaning up the puke and other little messes around the bathroom. he honestly enjoyed cleaning, truth be told. puke exactly? not really, but this was for reagan, which instantly made it bearable. plus, he felt a bit guilty for not hearing her wake up; though the words of his therapist ran through his head as he beat himself down the slightest bit.
‘i need to forgive myself. i’m sure she knows that i didn’t do it on purpose. we’re helping her now, and that’s what matters’
he ought to give his boyfriend some credit though. not only were both of them very tired, neither were 100% sober. none of them in this bathroom were 100% sober, but nothing bad had happened so what difference did that make? they’d all had their fair share of managing under worse conditions or situations, so they had this. he had this. his boyfriend had this. their little had this. they all had this early morning wake-up call under control.
with a quick swish of towels into the laundry basket, brett made his way back to his partners. reagan had just spat out her toothpaste and was now swishing with some watered-down mouthwash. he did a quick scan of her clothing and noted that her shirt should be changed. he’d get to that later. reagan now sat on the counter with a clean mouth and clean face; sleep was making her eyes droopy and heavy. brett and ron both realized what they ought to do next: move her to bed- and, possibly, probably, put her into some protection for the evening.
neither had ever done that before. if anything, the most info they’d gotten about it was at reagan’s doctor appointment one time. god bless the nurse who had handed them a packet of some basic caregiver skills. they’d practically devoured the thing one evening while reagan worked late; they had studied and recited that damn packet to each other like it was a college final. both unspokenly hoped that all that good-natured fuss would pay off now.
‘god, this is going to be hard’
“you ready to go to bed reags?”
brett took the first leap of faith. he’d have to carry her anyways; staedler had gotten extremely sore from their last mission.
“mm,,d’no”
first string of words they’d heard all this time.
“hmm, well,,,,it’s pretty late for us to be awake huh?”
“,,,,m’ybe,,,,”
“yeah?”
“mhmmm,,”
tears refilled reagan’s eyes as she answered. she swung her legs a bit more, making semi-loud contact with the cabinets below. she naturally guided a thumb towards her mouth to calm down, but the resisting ridley part of her refused to do such a thing. she panicked, that same little sliver of her brain suddenly sparking an ugly flame of shame. in complete distress and conflict, she slammed her fisted hands down on the counter, making all of them jump. well, that was enough for her to shrink into herself once more. her hands stung and burned while she cried.
both boys took immediate action. reagan didn’t know who did what past this point. one of them gently pried her fists apart. someone kissed her tears away. someone ran a hand up and down her back. they both seemed to be giving reassurance and love to her though, and that was enough to start to soothe her wicked mind.
she still babbled and cried when brett picked her up again and off the counter for good. she immediately curled up against him, shaking like a leaf. she heard something being opened, brief sounds of plastic ripping. reagan had buried her head in brett’s neck to hide away from the world but was gently tapped on the shoulder to unhide once more. this was for good reason she’d learn within the following seconds. ron had one hand still on her shoulder, and in his other, a pacifier. it was even in her favorite color too.
she accepted the unspoken offer and gave a few experimental sucks. she’d never had a pacifier before, so this part was completely new to her. she’d seen some media over the years of babies in movies, always sporting a pacifier or teether, so she at least had a decent idea of how to use one (not that she'd ever thought and maybe dreamed of having her own pacifier before obviously). this made sense to her though, considering it almost instantly calmed her. her instincts knew what to do, because of course they did. there’s something that made sense.
reagan didn’t know how old she felt, which was a big and frustrating thing for a previously repressed little to be feeling. she wanted to know, and she wanted to know now. she’d missed out on so much already, and oh god she was having another moment. moments of little space panic were scary to reagan. she didn’t know how to manage herself when everything felt too overwhelming, like right now. there wasn’t even much to be overwhelmed by. what was her problem?
the little’s eyes shot open from their almost closed positions. it was like she’d been tased or shocked by something oh so suddenly. she almost spat out her new gift and began to thrash against brett. this was more of a temper tantrum by the looks of it, not that reagan had been a brat within the last 30 minutes or so. ron panicked a bit when reagan began to kick her legs that were half wrapped around brett's waist, but brett had a good idea of what to do. he’d seen others do it before to soothe their littles, so maybe it’d work for theirs.
brett simply just shifted reagan from her koala-like hold on him and onto his hip. she was now facing ron in his general direction while her body was turned into brett. her tears slowed as well did her slight kicks the moment brett started to gently bounce her on his hip. ron finally snapped out of his own little moment of panic and stepped a bit closer to his partners, moving his hand to her cheek. they were all close enough to shield reagan from whatever she was seemingly scared of outside this bathroom, but far enough for her to breathe.
“shhhh it’s ok reags, shhhhhh”
“cmon little one, you’re safe i promise”
“you’re not being a bother sweetheart ok? it’s ok to feel little”
“it’s ok if you don’t know how old you feel”
“it’s ok if you want to have a paci”
“we love you so much baby”
reagan shed a few more tears from their words. they had mollified her fears without even fully knowing or understanding what had been troubling her. she curled herself up against her slightly stronger caregiver again and leaned into the touch of her other. both boys had finally settled her down, at last. every second of the past hour or so had paid off. the little one no longer thought about her fears or insecurities. the only thing running through her mind was how soft brett’s shirt was, and how gentle ron’s hand was with moving from her face to now rubbing her back.
she had her two caregivers with her, and nothing else mattered.
—————————
reagan was eventually taken back into their bedroom and changed into nighttime protection. it had been a team effort of sorts between the two boys, but it all turned out ok. she had been promptly tucked in and now laid under the covers, fighting sleep. at some point in the now closer to 3:40 am time, her pacifier had been replaced with a bottle. it was warm milk, and she didn’t hesitate to accept the temporary change. she innocently layered her own hands on top of whoever was holding the bottle. she finally felt free and infinitely happy in her little space.
her two- no,, she decided she’d give them names. it felt more natural to give them names since littles didn’t always call their caregivers their actual names. some did, but not reagan.
brett had been the one holding reagan’s bottle when she finished drinking. before he could’ve given her pacifier back, she giggled and slightly kicked her feet. her hands lightly tugged on the hem of the new shirt she had been changed into. she squirmed around with a smile on her face while she brainstormed who should be called what. she looked at brett with a smile on her face when she suddenly rolled over to sit on her knees. the little made her way towards him and was soon in his arms.
ron had been putting away some supplies they had used when he heard reagan babble. he assumed it was to brett till the other man called him as well. he turned his head and was met with the cutest sight.
there, reagan sat in brett’s lap while she made grabby hands toward him. he’d never forget how her eyes lit up when she realized his attention was now fully on her. she giggled and then exclaimed:
“papa!!”
‘oh, wow.’
it felt like hearing a baby say his name for the first time. well, technically, in a way, he was. tears sprung to his eyes as he quickly made his way over to the two.
“yes- yes!! hi sweetheart!! hi my little girl!!”
he couldn’t help the big smile that sprung onto his face. he didn’t even care that he was sore anymore; he gently took reagan from her seat on brett and lifted her high in the air. maybe he twirled her around and gave her the biggest hug he’d ever given to her thus far. he’d never admit it later that he was crying happy tears.
brett found it both sweet and heartwarmingly cute. he cheered and punched the air from his spot on the bed for reagan finally being comfortable enough to give them names. he almost missed her next words directed at him, since she had stretched an arm toward him:
“dada!!”
‘oh.my.god’
he froze, awestruck in place. it didn’t last long of course. he jumped up and immediately brought both of his partners into a hug; easily done since reagan was now on ron’s hip. they stayed like that while brett cried for a few moments. he now understood why ron had burst into tears.
‘damn caregiver brain’
he took reagan’s face into his hands.
“hello baby!! i love you so much reags. we both do, to the moon and back 5 billion times-“
now he was just getting choked up on his words, so figured he’d stop for now. they all shared another embrace for a few minutes, three tired and sappy partners caught in a moment. it was easily 4 am, yet none of them cared. they’d call in tomorrow, or one of them would- probably brett.
they didn’t dare separate, especially not when ron and brett noticed reagan had finally dozed off. she was leaning against ron’s chest, but held a grip on brett’s shirt. ron took this moment to hug brett a bit tighter with the arm that was around the latter. brett returned it. unspoken reassurance that yes, they were ok. both of them had done well despite their insecurities and worries about messing up. brett gave ron a kiss on the forehead while the latter rested his head on brett’s shoulder.
truth be told, they had been scared- downright terrified even- about this whole thing. reagan had only slipped once before with them, and it had been so brief that it left both of them heartbroken. it had been during an argument; reagan had gotten so upset that she had slipped. of course, brett and ron both dropped the whole thing the moment they both noticed the shift, but they’d been refused their help. they had been pushed away and ignored for the rest of the evening. they really only helped her by giving her a bottle and a few hugs. only being able to do those two minor things broke them both so much, making them question if the arrangement of two caregivers was even a good idea for their girlfriend. if it was too overwhelming or would cause issues down the road. it sprung up questions that had eaten them alive; questions that had them holding hands in comfort while walking into the bathroom only an hour or so earlier.
this. this right here proved them wrong. brett feared being wrong about a lot of things, but not this time. ron despised being wrong, but not this time. they were wrong. they had succeeded by being wrong.
‘what if she doesn’t like us both as caregivers?’
they’d all made it to bed by now, reagan settled between the two of them. she had a smile on her face from behind her pacifier.
‘what if we use insensitive nicknames?’
‘what if we can’t make her smile?’
“hi little girl- aren’t you just the sweetest little thing i’ve ever seen-“
“aww now you’re just a sap mr-“
reagan let out the cutest little giggle they’d ever heard her do. true baby energy was in the brain. and god- they’d both do anything to hear her giggle like that again.
brett booped her on the nose.
she giggled.
ron tickled her on her sides.
she giggled.
ron covered his eyes and brett follow suit.
“peek-a-boo!!!”
reagan let out the loudest little fit of giggles that made them both melt. she’d bent herself into the classic baby pose at this point; she held her feet while on her back, posing her into the position many babies and littles made when happy.
they covered their eyes again.
“peek-a-boo!!!”
this time reagan clapped her hands, clearly happy by the little bit of stimulation they’d managed to give her. they continued this pattern for a few minutes more. it eventually tired her out a bit more, which was ultimately the goal here. nothing like a bit of good fun to wear you out.
‘littles give their caregiver/caregivers names right? it’s part of the bond- what if she doesn’t give us names since there’s two of us?’
‘what if she doesn’t like the gifts we give her?’
‘what if she doesn’t love us?’
reagan still laid flat on her back while the other two lay on their sides facing her. ron and brett had one of their hands intertwined over her stomach, while their other one lay under reagan’s pillow to help support her head. the only noises in the room were breathing and the soft suckling noises from the little’s pacifier. she mumbled from behind it.
“wuv you dada, wuv you papa- luvvv uuu bof.”
“love you too baby”
“love you too sweetheart”
reagan laid her hands on top of her dada and papa’s intertwined ones and was soon out like a light in no time. ron followed suit not long, after giving brett’s hand a squeeze that he knew came across as ‘i love you, you did great.’
brett reflected for a while, the clock getting closer to 5 am than 4 am. he actually sent a text to gigi at some point (he made sure his volume was silenced and his screen was practically almost black) telling her that the three of them wouldn’t be coming in. he hoped she’d get the reason why, since she herself took care of andre when he needed it. plus, reagan had been on edge anyways, so it probably checked out.
falling asleep to the sight of his partners always gave brett peace. it did now, and he hoped it always would. if they were all capable of making something as beautiful as this, maybe,,,yeah, yeah. fuck what his parents had always said about him, he was deserving of love. ron was deserving of love. reagan was deserving of love.
it’s all love, and they all deserved it.