Fic: A Wonderful Thing [2/2]

Title: A Wonderful Thing
Author: madd4the24
Pairing: PxD
Rating: Teen
Summary: "I can't do this, and Pierre can never know."
Disclaimer: I don't own them, because we don't own people anymore.
Author Notes: In this universe boys get pregnant. Oh, if only RL were that cool.
Warnings: MPREG


A Wonderful Thing/Chapter One






The Sixth Month:


The end of his second trimester marked the beginning of the serious baby shopping, more at the insistence of the band than David himself. It was endearing, really, but surprising. The band had taken his baby up like it was a home improvement project, and as a group and as individuals they slowly but steadily made plans for the future. And that meant they were very serious about the baby both before it was born, and even more importantly after. That was why David was being coerced into something he didn’t want to do, and it was certainly only the fact that he knew how much the band already loved the baby, that he wasn’t putting up the kind of fuss he was capable of.

“This is not your most ingenious plan ever,” David remarked cynically as he flattened his hat down further over his head. “We proved a month ago I need a better disguise.” He shot Jeff a dark look as the guitarist rolled his eyes and handed over a pair of dark, large sunglasses.

“Well, gee, David,” Pierre piped up, “if it was Halloween we could just dress you up as the great pumpkin and all our worries would be solved.”

“Fuck off,” David snapped, flipping Pierre off.

Seb rested his chin on his palm. “Speaking of Halloween, you could always give the dress another go. We could just pass you off as a woman.”

Pierre nodded seriously, “You’re pretty enough.” When Pierre burst out in laughter David reached over and socked him in the arm as hard as he could, satisfied by the wince on Pierre’s face.

“Or we could just not go out at all, and order everything online,” David suggested hopefully.

Jeff snorted and Chuck supplied, “No such luck. You have to do baby shopping in person. It’s like, a rule or something.”

“And how much do you actually have for the baby already,” Seb wondered, “you know, the one due in just a few short months.”

David frowned in thought. “I have some stuff,” he responded. His family had been surprisingly supportive, and his mother and father had already purchased a mountain of baby clothes, begging for hint as to whether they ought to be buying blue or pink. But, and David had decided months ago, he didn’t want to know. Knowing the baby’s gender and having to refer to it as a he or she was just a little too much at the moment. It was better if the baby stayed an it until David could hold that baby in his arms and know for a fact that it wasn’t going to disappear or be nothing but a dream.

“The big stuff,” Seb interjected, “baby clothes don’t count, David. How much do you have for when you take the baby home? You know, a crib and dresser and changing table and all of that stuff--the important stuff.”

David groaned even if the rest of the band seemed unaffected by Seb’s words. Because it was official now. He’d play the tour until the very last moment he was able to, until the doctors told him otherwise, and then he’d have the baby and Pierre would take up double duty as both bassist and singer until the end of the tour in another eight months. Once the baby was home for a while David would review the situation and decide what he planned to do, with both a heavy obligation to his child and to his band. And while it sounded solid, it was a plan that hurt David, seemingly more than the rest of the band who were delighted at the compromise.

“We’ll be found out,” David grumbled, letting Chuck help him to his feet. “Mark my words. Fifteen minutes in and you guys will have to throw yourselves to the fans girls so I can make my escape, because I’m sure as hell not running.”

Pierre passed him his hoodie with a smile. “You have so little faith. We called ahead. The mall is going to open the stores we need an hour early for us.” His smile widened and he added, “And don’t worry, I’d throw myself in front of a rabid teenager for you and the baby.”

With a lump in his throat David whispered his thanks.

As it turned out shopping wasn’t such a big deal after all, especially with a huge department store to themselves and four hyper band mates who practically did all the shopping for David.

“This would be easier if you just told us the gender!” Jeff called over his shoulder as he led Pierre and Chuck towards the assembled display playpens, some bright pink, others dark colors and some clearly neutral.

“And take all the fun out of it?” he called back, heading with Seb to the bathroom on the other side of the store.

Bathroom trips, much to David’s great horror, had only increased as his baby bump had begun to round out further and was moving into the next stage. And with the baby finally moving, forever kicking into his bladder, there was scarcely a concert David could make it all the way through. But he tried to take it in stride.

“Hey, David,” Seb asked, standing next to him as they both washed their hands. The band had long since stopped making fun of the activity that took David several minutes to complete, the bassist suddenly unable to feel as if his hands were clean enough.

“Hm, yeah?” he asked, grinding soap into his pores.

“You never said, and well, me and the guys we all decided not to push, but you’re getting really close to having this baby. You’ll be in your third trimester in a week, right? We still don’t want to push, but we don’t know if it’s important and we want to be ready with our little niece or nephew coming soon.”

David frowned. “What?”

Seb bit his lip. “We know why Pierre has a sore spot over the baby. I mean, if the baby isn’t his, but you’re six months in, it isn’t hard to figure out what went on--and none of us are judging you, don’t think that! It’s just … the father … David, is he going to pop up out of the blue one day? Is he going to be in this kid’s life at all?”

“Oh,” David breathed out, hands stilling. On the best of days he was able to convince himself that the baby wasn’t Pierre’s. He could pretend that he had just been loose and he’d gotten himself knocked up by a one night stand. On those days it was easier, because living with the idea of being a cheater was better than living with the knowledge that he was a liar. And some times it just got damn near impossible to keep the charade going and he wanted to ruin Pierre’s life as much as the baby had ruined his. He needed help--or he’d need it at least when the baby was born. He was only just beginning to realize, doing it alone was going to be too hard. He had to tell, and soon.

“David?” Seb asked, one hand on David’s forearm. “You’re crying what’s wrong?”

“You swear not to tell?” David asked, unable to help the words rushing from his mouth. He couldn’t wait for Seb’s response before he added quickly, “I never meant to get pregnant in the first place and I just … I couldn’t get rid of it, but I tried, I really did. And I’m a selfish person, Seb, I really am. I don’t shoulder things by myself very well. Why I tried to save someone else from this I’m not sure. He should have been here with me the whole time, dealing with all the fucking morning sickness and cravings and dizziness and all the other shit that I had to do alone.”

“Who’s the father?” Seb prodded gently.

“It’s Pierre,” David whispered. “I lied. Pierre is the father.”


The Seventh Month:

The more people he told, David found out, the less anxiety he felt. It was odd. He’d feared Pierre finding out for so long, and now he played with fire widening his circle of trust to the point where it would be inevitable that the singer would realize he’d fathered a child. He was starting to reevaluate the situation. Maybe Pierre finding out wouldn’t but such a complete disaster. There was a good chance they could raise a baby together and not fall apart. They could support each other and be good parents, even if they weren’t together anymore.

And it was such a revelation that David vowed to tell Pierre about his impending fatherhood before the baby was born and not after.

But that didn’t mean now, and as he entered his seventh month David began to realize how little time he truly had left with the band. He wanted to cherish every moment he had and relish in the performances, even if they’d quickly become almost too much for him to handle and he took to sitting on a stool for the duration instead of jumping around. Furthermore, the heavy vibrations from his bass and the guitars were making him feel unwell and after talking to his band he’d decided he’d play the end of the month and that was it. His doctor concurred.

“Don’t feel like you have to do this,” Pierre told him as they waited for the cue to go on stage and begin the concert. The roar of the crowds were deafening, and they’d only drawn bigger numbers as David continued to expand. It made him feel like the kids were paying more for a glimpse of the baby instead of the band itself.

David adjusted the strap of his bass running across his shoulder. “We agreed I’d stop at the end of the month, Pierre. I’m fine. I can do this.” And that was a lie, because he was feeling especially unwell that night. He’d been battling a fierce headache that had caused him significant dizziness and he’d been experiencing contracting of his muscles. The feelings were nothing new, he was almost constantly uncomfortable these days, but especially so tonight. But he refused to ruin the show for his friends and all the people who’d paid to come and see them.

He settled into his familiar stool once the show began, hoisting his bass up on his knee and strumming the opening cords to Shut Up, a song Pierre particularly liked to open with.

He made it halfway through the show, the familiar vibrations from the instruments wracking his body uncomfortably, before his vision started to blur. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight and engage Pierre properly. He knew their banter was half the reason their band was so popular. But his reactions were slowing and he could tell Pierre noticed. There was a look of concern on his face, and less than a song later Pierre had managed to alert both Jeff and Seb.

As Crazy ended Jeff scooted over to David, and as Pierre spoke to the crowd the guitarist asked David quietly, “You okay?”

David licked chapped lips, nodded even as his muscles continued to clench involuntarily and a disconcerting tingle ran through his body.

“You don’t look it,” Jeff forced, eyes darting between Pierre who could only stall the crowd for so long and David who was looking more pale by the second.

“Yeah,” David said, “I’m just--” air whooshed from his lungs and David toppled forward, arms around his stomach as a cry of pain escaped his lips. It was excruciating, the pain, and unlike anything David had ever felt before, and he knew something was seriously wrong.

He felt Jeff’s strong arms guiding his bass over his head and soon enough he was on the floor of the stage, the lights too bright above him and the loud shouts in the crowd turning from delight to horror.

“Oh, fuck,” David gasped out, back arching up at another flash of pain.

“Call an ambulance!” Pierre demanded, skidding to a stop next to David’s crumpled form. “David, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” His capable hands discarded David’s hat to the side and brushed fingers through the bassist’s bangs. “Just lie still for me, okay? Can you do that?”

David’s voice failed him and instead he nodded quickly, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Pierre,” Chuck called, stationed further down David’s form. “Pierre, look, this is bad.”

David tried to crane his head up to look but Seb intercepted the action and forced him back down, repeating, “Just lay still, okay? You’re going to be just fine.” There was moisture in his eyes and that frightened David even more than the pain.

“Okay,” Pierre commanded, “We can’t wait for the ambulance. We have to get him to the hospital now.” When he moved back into David’s line of sight there was blood on his hands and suddenly David felt sticky.

“Oh, god,” he gasped out, “my baby!”

“You’re okay, David, I promise, you’re okay.” Pierre grabbed him by the shoulders. “David, fuck, David, look at me. I swear to you, I won’t let anything happen to this baby.”

“Our baby,” David moaned out, trying to curl to the side even as hands held him down. Medics had arrived on the scene and they were beginning to block Pierre out. And as their cold, plastic covered hands moved over him, removing his hoodie and shirt, all David could think was he was loosing his baby and Pierre didn’t even know it was his.

“Sure,” Pierre said, nodding quickly, “our baby--the band’s baby.”

David fought the hands of the medics and snapped, “No, Pierre, our baby. Yours and mine.” He began to feel disconnected from his body, the pain still intense, but fading by the second. His vision went altogether and he fell lax.

“Ours?” Pierre mouthed, the world falling away from him. “I don’t … I don’t understand.”

Pierre’s hand found David’s and the bassist squeezed it weakly. “I should have told you,” David hurried out, finding it harder and harder to hold on. “I was wrong to lie and keep the baby from you. I was just scared. I didn’t want to ruin your life. I’m sorry.”

It was at that moment the medics deduced David ready for travel and the two men hoisted the heavy bassist up into their arms, taking off in a mad dash presumably for more prepared medical services.

“Go!” Chuck urged Jeff and Seb, moving to Pierre’s side to help support the singer who looked as if he might faint. “Go make sure David is okay!”

“What did he mean?” Pierre demanded, letting Chuck steer him near blindly back to the green room. “Chuck?”

Chuck sat him on the sofa and took a deep breath. “There’s some things you should know.”

Pierre looked up at him. “Is it mine?” His voice left no room for deception. “You tell me right now. Is that baby mine, and did you know? Did you let David keep this from me? Fuck, is that baby really mine?”

Chuck ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yes.” He didn’t duck out of the way, even when he saw the punch coming. Though he didn't see the ones that followed after.



The Eighth Month:

David turned the page in the bass magazine he was skimming and tried not to seem as if his entire attention was devoted to the man laying next to him on the bed, on his stomach, talking to the round mass that was their unborn child. As far as Pierre knew he tended to zone out while reading magazines, especially bass magazines, and David was enjoying the rare, unguarded moment with Pierre.

“Your daddy refuses to let me know if you’re a girl or a boy,” Pierre said in a hushed tone, face only inches from David’s stomach, “but I want you to know, he’s not fooling anyone. I know what you are. I’ve seen his credit card bill.”

David turned another page, a smile pulling at him. He shifted slightly to the side, ignoring the quick flash of pain and dared to peek over the top of the magazine.

“That’s okay, though,” Pierre continued, chin propped up by his palm. “Your daddy can keep thinking he’s the only one who knows for as long as he wants. If that makes him happy, then that’s what we’re going to do, because your daddy needs to be as happy and comfortable as possible, okay? We have to be extra careful right now, so the both of you are okay.”

David’s chest hitched a little at Pierre’s words and his grip tightened on the magazine. It was, in his opinion, nothing less of a miracle, how well Pierre had adapted to his impending fatherhood. In fact David dared to say that Pierre was flourishing under his own kind of glow, devoting himself and nearly all of his time to the baby, and, David thought darkly, to David himself.

David swallowed hard. He had come damn close to loosing the baby. And it was nothing special, just too much stress, too little rest and a typical complication that came about. And now he was on bed rest--mandatory bed rest, back at home in Montreal. And Pierre had come with him.

David had wanted to make things as clear as possible to Pierre before they went home, effectively putting the tour on hold. David didn’t want Pierre going with him or volunteering to take care of him while he laid around and tried not to miscarry if it was being done out of a sense of obligation. David wasn’t expecting Pierre to suddenly preach his love for him over night, but he wasn’t going to have Pierre throwing his life away because it was ‘the right thing to do’. He only wanted Pierre there if Pierre wanted it too. David had kept the baby from him for so long because he hadn’t wanted to ruin Pierre’s life or the band. He couldn’t undo it all so easily.

So they’d gone home together for the right reasons.

For the most part, they hadn’t talked about each other, their focus instead turned towards the baby, which David thought was okay. They had time for them later, but the baby came now. And he was sure they were doing a pretty good job, at least thus far. Maybe David would assess their parental skills again, in a few months when the baby was actually born.

“I don’t actually know,” David said, startling Pierre who pushed himself up on his forearms. “The gender, that is.”

Pierre frowned, looking between David’s face and his stomach. “That’s not what I hear from Chuck, and god knows Chuck gets to know everything before I do.”

Hurt flashed through David and he replied, “Chuck is fucking with you. He doesn’t know because I don’t know. I don’t want to know. It’s easier this way.”

“Well, it would just be a lot easier to tell my family to shop for pink things, or blue things. You know how excited they are about this baby. I think my folks thought I’d never settle down and reproduce. They were counting on Jay for a long time.”

David rolled is eyes. “If it’s a boy the baby is still going to wear pink. That’s moot point.” Then he sobered and said, “About us, the settling down thing, Pierre …”

“This is why we grew apart, right?” Pierre asked, leaning forward to press his lips against David’s stomach. “You were getting torn up inside keepings this secret, trying to protect me, and I was getting angry trying to figure out why we weren’t close anymore and why we were suddenly mismatching.”

“Yeah.” David nodded and swallowed hard.

“Then,” Pierre said in a drawn out way, “the wedge is gone. I think … I think we should give us another try, for the ba--”

“If you say for the baby,” David snapped, flinging his magazine to the side, “then I will fuck you up, Pierre. If we ever, and I mean ever, give us another go, it’ll be just for us. No matter what, this baby is going to have two, loving parents, right? We don’t need to be in a relationship to give this baby everything it needs. If we decide to try and make us work again, it has to be just for us, and not for the baby. The baby can’t be an excuse.”

Pierre surged to his knees, and snapped, “You think I don’t know that?”

“You could have fooled me!”

Pierre leaned forward then and for the first time in roughly half a year, kissed David. It was perhaps the most gentle, careful kiss they’d ever shared, except for their very first, and bracing himself on one hand Pierre leaned closer and framed David’s face with his free hand. And when the kiss was finished, too chaste for words, Pierre inquired, “Don’t you think every time there is an us, there’s always a baby, too? Just because I want there to be an us for the baby, doesn’t mean that’s the only reason.”

David sighed. “We’re so hot and cold, Pierre. I think maybe there would be more stability in us not being together.”

“Do you love me?” Pierre demanded, his face so close to David’s that their noses barely missed each other.

“Pierre--”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” David admitted, and it was so easy it was almost uplifting.

Pierre kissed him again, this time more aggressively, and yet still so aware. “Then we should give us another try,” he said, murmuring against David’s lips. “Because if you love me and I love you, then nothing else matters, right?”

David nodded, adding, “Except the baby.”

Pierre laughed, “Okay, except the baby.”

After several more stolen kissed Pierre drew back to his original position, stretched out on his stomach, head near David’s stomach.

“So, you really don’t know?” Pierre asked.

David stretched to the side, fingers brushing against the spine of the magazine he’d thrown angrily to the side. “Huh?” he asked.

“The gender,” Pierre stressed, daring to reach out and press a protective hand against David’s stomach. “Do you really not know if it’s a boy or a girl?” The sharp kicks and jabs under the skin never failed to force a smile to Pierre’s face. And it was no small matter of reassurance that his baby was alive and safe and still growing.

“Nope,” David replied, easily finding the page he’d left off on. “Not going to, either. It’s one mystery you’re just going to have to live with.”

A sour look crossed Pierre’s face. “And you swear Chuck doesn’t know?”

“You broke his nose the last time he knew something about the baby that you didn’t,” David deadpanned. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Pierre shrugged. “Chuck’s got a betting pool going, you know.”

“I know,” David responded absentmindedly, “don’t worry, we get a cut.”



The Ninth Month:


Curled onto his side with and arm tucked under the pillow at the head of the bed David tried not to shift around too much, overcome by severe discomfort. His ears kept track of the steady beeping only a few feet from his bed that told him everything was okay, and he tried to be content with that being enough at the moment. He’d given up begging for pain killers half a week ago. Plus, he only had a little while left, he was sure he could make it.

“Hey,” Pierre called softly, pushing the door to the hospital room open. “How you doing?” He reached the bed and passed his fingers through David’s slightly damp hair. “You’re sweating again. Too hot?”

“I’m the same as when you left fifteen minutes ago,” the bassist snapped. He took a deep breathe. “Sorry. Everything just … hurts.”

Pierre nodded soberly. “I know.”

“You don’t know,” David murmured.

“Okay, I don’t know, but you’re not doing this alone, okay? I’m here. I’m staying. We’ll get through this.”

David took a calming breathe. “Okay. You called my mom, right?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, “Called your folks and they’re on their way here, but most of the airports are running at half capacity or less because of the snow. They’re probably not going to make it in time. Sorry.”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” David said, letting his pinky hook on Pierre’s. “I don’t … I don’t want a million people here. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

Pierre reached out with his free hand to stroke David’s stomach. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be great. Only a little longer and then we’ll have that baby to hold. You’re excited about that, right?”

“Fucking frightened.”

Pierre let out a laugh and slumped down in the chair next to the bed. “You sound like Chuck.”

David cracked a smile as well. “Is he still freaking out? You’d think it was his baby, not ours.”

“He’s down in the gift shop right now, trying to find the perfect present for the baby. Last I looked Seb and Jeff were doing their best to stop him from buying the whole place out of panic. He’s really … really nervous. I think we should have never agreed to let him be an uncle.”

Pain shot through David’s spin and he grimaced, thankful when Pierre rose to his feet and began to rub the small of his back.

“It’s not too late to find out the gender,” Pierre said, fingers rubbing soothingly against David’s skin. “We’re going to have another ultra sound before the operation, right? It would help settling on a name much easier.”

David frowned. “We already decided, remember?”

“Deciding to decide when we see the baby isn’t exactly a plan,” Pierre said.

“I’m not knowing early, Pierre. I want it to be a surprise. What’s wrong with having name for a girl and a name for a boy ready?”

Pierre huffed. “Because unless you’re having twins, which we’re not, right? Yeah, unless we’re having twins, I’m going to get attached to the gender with the name and I don’t want to be disappointed, even a little.”

David shrugged. “Okay, then we name the baby Cameron.”

“Cameron?” Pierre asked, rolling the name off his tongue. “Cameron?”

“Yeah, Cameron. Works for a girl or a boy.”

“Cameron Bouvier or Cameron Desrosiers?”

David arched his back under Pierre’s ministrations. “Cameron Desrosiers-Bouvier?”

They’d actually talked about getting married, mostly for the sake of the baby, but had decided against it. Their relationship was … better than ever, but marriage was a big step. They needed to be ready for it on their own terms. David secretly hoped they’d take the next step in just a few short years, but if they never did, he knew he’d be okay with that too. After all, they didn’t need a piece of paper and a couple rings to represent their love.

“Kind of long winded,” Pierre teased. “The kid might get picked on in school.”

“Look and who the kid’s parents are. It’s going to be picked on no matter what we name it.”

“Hey,” Pierre said indignantly, “we’re rock stars, that makes our kids super cool.”

David frowned. “Kids?”

Brief panic flashed across Pierre’s face before he admitted, “Well, I was sort of hoping that maybe this wouldn’t just be a one time deal. I always wanted a big family.”

“I’m not sure I want to do this again, Pierre. And frankly, I’m surprised you do. This baby wasn’t exactly … planned. I mean, it beat the odds. We always used protection.”

“What can I say, my little swimmers and mighty powerful.”

“Big head.”

Pierre laughed. “A little, but David, planned or not, this baby isn’t an accident. It’s a wonderful thing. It took me a long time to come to terms with why you kept it from for so long and I still don’t agree, but I understand. Just … promise me you’ll never be that self sacrificing again in your life, not on matters like this. And, you know, maybe consider giving Cameron a little brother or sister?”

Pierre dropped a kiss on David’s lips and the bassist nodded. “So Cameron it is?”

“Only if you promise me you didn’t just pull that out of your ass,” Pierre said, raising a finger to punctuate his seriousness.

“Nope,” David promised. “Been thinking about it a while.”

“Since when?” Pierre asked, eyes straying to the fetal monitor that kept track of their child’s heartbeat. It looked good and strong to his untrained eyes, and the doctors were confident that David’s hospitalization for his final few weeks was only a precaution due to the miscarriage scare earlier in his pregnancy.

There was a smile in David’s eyes and Pierre knew it well for the mischievousness it meant. “What?” he asked. “What?”

“Since,” David eased out, “since I accidentally found out the gender a month ago.”

Pierre let out a loud screech as Chuck was passing through the door, arms full of gift shop purchases. The drummer faltered at the pitch and lost half of his items to the ground where they shattered on impact. Then Chuck let out a wail of his own.



The Tenth Month:

The door bell rang halfway through the usual feeding routine, the baby sated and in the middle of being burped over David’s shoulder while Pierre leveled the camcorder up to focus in on the two people he loved the most. At first David had been entertained by Pierre’s attempt to immortalize their child’s first year, but it had quickly gotten old. Pierre was no Patrick when it came to filming unobtrusively.

“Go get that,” David ordered, patting the baby’s back gently. “My hands are a little full right now and you know the guys won’t wait for ever on the stoop, at least not with all those photographers out there. Do you really want pictures of Chuck trying to crawl through the window popping up on TMZ?”

Pierre frowned and flipped the stop button on the recorder. “Then can you just … you know, stop for a little bit?”

“Did you read the books that say what happens if we don’t burp the baby? If you want to deal with the crying and can take knowing you’ve caused your own child discomfort, then don’t worry, the both of us will wait.” Of course it was an empty threat. For all the nervousness and how unsure David had been, parenting had almost come like a second nature. It was hard, he wasn’t trying to pretend otherwise, but it was rewarding, even more than music. And he could no more let any harm come to his child than stop breathing.

“There will be other feedings,” David stressed, “I’m almost finished, anyway. Go get the door. They’ve been dying to see the baby.”

Pierre nodded and set the camera aside. It was true, the rest of the band had been calling constantly, asking to see the baby. They’d seen the baby only a couple times right after it had been born, laying in a tiny bassinet in the ward at the hospital. Then once they’d taken the baby home David and Pierre had jointly become almost obsessive compulsive about keeping the baby away from other people and their germs. Not even the other members of the band had been allowed over until now.

David could hear Seb yell, “Where’s the baby!” as soon as the door was open and once there were no more burps to come David draped a soft blanket around the baby and headed out into the living room.

“Where is it? Where is it?” Seb demanded, rocking on his feet. Jeff’s hand clamped down on his shoulder and Seb quieted a bit.

“Here, here,” David announced, emerging from the nursery. “Now calm down.” Carefully he leveled the baby up, turning to the side to expose the infant’s pale but healthy face, a tuff of dark brown hair on top the baby’s head. David brought his hand up to rub the child’s back and small eyes peeked open revealing a hazel color.

Seb let out a satisfying sigh. “There’s my nephew.”

David handed the baby over to Jeff, mostly because Seb was twitching a little too much, Chuck looked afraid he’d break the baby and Jeff had one of his own. A silent shared look between Pierre and David confirmed the choice.

“They’re going to smother the baby to death,” Pierre murmured next to David, his arms crossed.

David smiled. He could tell, Pierre was going to be one of those overprotective fathers. The action usually came with fathers and daughters but David had been watching Pierre very carefully since they’d brought the baby home. Pierre looked at the baby like he was afraid it was going to disappear and David had no doubt if anything happened to their child there would be no coming back for him. The baby--their son, was everything to Pierre and David foresaw tremendously difficult teenage years coming. Pierre wouldn’t be ready to let their baby go in a few decades any more than he was now, especially to another person.

“You can hold him, you know,” David told Chuck, watching as the drummer palmed his hands against his jeans. “You’re got pretty capable hands.”

“I’ve been thinking of getting myself one of these,” Chuck said slowly, his attention on the baby being passed into his arms.

“It’s not a new snare!” Pierre protested.

Chuck shrugged. “You know what I mean--” he broke off and a look of horror crossed is face when the baby gave a sudden wail of unhappiness. “What am I doing wrong?” he demanded frantically.

“Nothing,” David said with a small laugh. “He’s just finicky. Babies are. He doesn’t know you right now, but he will.”

“So you’re going to end the lockdown?” Jeff asked. “We actually get to spend time with our nephew?”

“Hey, he needed to be protected against germs,” Pierre defended. “Newborns are susceptible to all kinds of bugs that don’t even phase us.”

“Ah,” David said, eyes bright with delight, “you did read the book after all.”

Pierre snorted indignantly.

“I want to hold him!” Seb called loudly, almost stamping his foot. “He’s my nephew too.”

After a moment’s hesitation Chuck nodded and passed the baby over, taking extra care to support the head.

“So,” Chuck said, thrusting hands in his pockets, “You guys are really trying to do the 2.5 kids and white picket fence thing?”

Seb looked up a Chuck’s words, his finger pausing from where it had been stroking lightly over the baby’s stomach. He shared a sudden look with Jeff and together they frowned.

“No,” David said quickly. “Do you see anymore babies? Where’s that fence? I don’t hear Fido barking in the background.” There was a slight edge to his words.

Pierre intercepted, “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re going to be okay, we promise. We’re just asking for a little time to take care of a baby. We postponed the tour, that’s all. We’re still a band, we’re still going to make music. Nothing is ending, things are just getting a little more complicated.”

Of course David knew it was a lot more than just that, because he and Pierre were still on uncertain ground, even if the feelings they shared were only growing stronger. It was true, the tour was on hold with promise to resume in a while, but how long that would be was up in the air. And they would go on as Simple Plan, but there was a baby to think about now. David couldn’t imagine leaving his baby behind like Jeff had to tour, but he very well couldn’t bring the tyke with them. The situation … they needed to talk more about it and soon.

Suddenly there was a warm hand wrapped around David’s. Pierre’s hand was holding his.

“We’re okay.”

But it came out more like a question and David froze for a moment before he squeezed back. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re okay.”

The baby gave another cry of protested and Pierre was at Seb’s side in a second, the baby back in his strong arms in no time. The cries rescinded after a moment as Pierre hushed the baby.

David had been so sure a baby would ruin Pierre’s life, and in a lot of ways it had. Pierre had lost that little bit of youth he’d had left. He was a dad now. He was a full fledged adult. He’d always have to think of someone before himself, and for that David deeply regretted everything that had happened.

But the kind of smile Pierre got on his face when he held his son was enough to make David think ruining the singer’s life had been for the best. He’d never, absolutely never, seen Pierre look so happy and content. His lines of worry and lack of sleep melted away once he had the baby in his arms. Pierre looked … just so damned happy. There were few other words that properly described the look of pure bliss.

So David was content to be happy, too, and they’d deal with the future when it came. Right now they had a baby to worry over.