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Robby’s in the office, reading the hours of a bout of insomnia away when he hears Dennis sleep talking. It isn’t talking, more like mumbles and loud exhales which suddenly escalate into a cry and – Robby is springing from the armchair like it isn’t 04:38.
He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging away the covers from Dennis’ thrashing as he flicks on a low lamp. He’s pink in the cheeks and the dream has clearly taken a turn for the worse into a nightmare. “Shh, shh, I’m here baby,” he babbles nonsense as he pushes Dennis’ curls from his forehead.
Dennis turns into his hand and presses a wail into the skin of his palm, something like a, “Ja-ack,” dying out on his lips as he jolts to wakefulness. He blinks through confused tears up at Robby’s face, and when they clear enough for him to realise who’s at his side, his face crumples and he devolves into tears. “Daddy!” He heaves, hands clumsily finding Robby’s where he’s petting the tears off his cheeks.
“Daddy’s here,” he agrees, keeping his voice low and steady. Must’ve been a bad dream indeed, to have Dennis crying out for his dad like this. “You had a nightmare baby, it’s all over now,” he starts, ready to soothe his boy back to sleep, but Dennis jerks his head.
“Papa? Where’s Papa?” He gasps.
“Papa’s at work,” Robby says. “He’ll be home in a few hours, OK kiddo?”
“Nooooo,” Dennis sobs, the violent heaves shifting Robby’s hand against him. Their baby has made himself throw up from crying on more than one occasion. Time to get comfortable.
He grabs the under-bed tray of their things for Denny, grateful as ever to his prepared husband, and joins Dennis on the bed. It certainly makes him feel more prepared, like he’s more than himself, fumbling and unsure how to help his baby feel better.“C’mon sweetheart, Daddy’s got you,” he says, sliding his hands under Dennis’s armpits and pulling him up and over Robby’s lap, so they’re chest to chest and he’s got his legs tucked either side of Robby’s. Dennis has said it’s his favourite way to lay with them like this – when he’s tuckered out but not ready for sleep. Says it makes him feel small when their arms wrap around him. When he can tuck his head under theirs and listen to their heartbeats. Sometimes, even when Dennis is big he’ll cuddle up like this; Jack makes no secret of it that he’s tallying up when it’s his or Robby’s choice in TV that get Dennis to decide he’d rather be face-planted on their chests.
Dennis’ face is immediately tacky and hot against his shirt, and he pulls a handkerchief from the basket. He dabs at the skin available, then rubs a hand over Dennis’ back. He settles, somewhat, when he’s able to shove his face into the crook of Robby’s neck. Still crying, but not with his whole body.
“Poor baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to sweat-dampened curls. “It’s all OK, you’re safe, Daddy and Papa are safe.” Dennis sniffles.
His voice still wobbles terribly, “Want Papa.”
“I know,” Robby croons, “But Papa’s at work, he’ll be home a bit later.”
More tears burst from Dennis and he shifts unhappily in Robby’s arms.
“Baby, do you want some space? Daddy can sit next to you inst –” he stops himself when it makes Dennis wail anew. He rubs Dennis’s back in silence, dries what tears he can reach.
It takes Dennis a little longer to calm down from that one, sobs less violent than when they started, but anguished now. The hurt from the nightmare. He’s not sure what to do, at this point. Jack is far better at this, when Dennis’ is upset. Robby loves his baby, loves being trusted with him and caring for him, but he doesn’t have a great temperament for dealing with big negative emotions from other people. He’s at therapy about it all, at Dennis’ firm insistence, and it is helping – but, where once upon a time he’d be frustrated with Dennis being what his past self might’ve called uncooperative, he now just feels the shame of failure lingering. He’s put his foot in it, and he doesn’t understand why, but he really, quite badly, doesn’t want to be putting his foot in it. Not for Denny.
Big, positive emotions? Love ‘em. Give him Dennis’ big grin around mac’n’cheese, or awkward full-body hugs when they see each other for the first time when Dennis has gone little? He’s in his happy place. He can even do grumpy. Sad is usually when Jack steps in.
Jack, who’s as awkward around kids as Robby is, is a natural at coaxing smiles and laughter from their oft stubborn baby when he’s upset. He has a no-nonsense attitude about how much he loves him – loves them both.
He manages to fish his phone out of his sweats, and slowly navigates to a chat with Jack.
Baby waiting 4 u. Nightmare
Typing on one hand, in the bleary dim of too-late-too-early, it’s the best he can manage.
“Baby,” he starts, feeling the weight of the missed hours of sleep suddenly come tumbling down. “Daddy’s gonna wipe your face.”
Dennis grumbles, but allows Robby to peel him off his chest.
He wipes away the tears and snot, even manages to get Dennis to blow his nose into the handkerchief, and cleans him up with a wipe. “That’s a bit better, hm?” He says, smiling softly down at Dennis as he turns his head each way to make sure he’s properly clean.
Dennis hums something noncommittal, and fits his face back into a less-damp part of Robby’s chest.
His phone flashes silently with a notification – from Jack. He swipes through to read,
You better be giving him cuddles for me
Will take 10 and clean up here after the shift
Robby gives it a heart react, because Dennis’ and Jack had teamed up to express that it was apparently psychopathic of him to thumbs-up react to their messages.
He’s able to relax a bit himself, by then, with the knowledge that he and Dennis aren’t on the roster today and lets his body sag into the pillows and headboard, eyes sliding shut as Dennis’s breath slowly returns to normal. He’s making these little whines into his chest, on his exhales like he really is trying to hold in more noise. He knows, from a fraught previous experience, not to ask Denny what he wants, or what he’d rather be doing. He’s ever so slowly calming down now, in Robby’s arms, and that’s still good. He’s still doing something good for his baby.
He gets a text right before the end of Jack’s shift,
Want me to call on the drive home?
The answer is easy, though it squeezes at his heart,
No. Wants 2 see u. Drve safe
He rouses again at the sound of the front door opening and closing. There are no wasted steps between there and the bedroom, Jack appearing in the doorway in a few seconds. He gives Robby a grateful, pleased smile when he sees Dennis breathing deeply on his chest, head tucked away. He’s quiet as he gets to the other edge of the bed, unfastening his prosthetic before swinging both legs onto the bed and inching closer.
He’s showered and changed after the shift, already in a soft tee and sweats. His curls a bit more defined with the dampness, like Dennis’. He raises his eyebrows at Robby, flicking his eyes between them.
“Baby,” Robby says, pausing the wide sweep of his palm over Dennis’ back to thumb over his shoulder. Dennis’ face shifts, and he hums tiredly into Robby’s collarbone. “Papa’s home now, he’d love to see his baby,” he says – barely getting through the word home before Dennis is wriggling atop him, first looking at the wrong side over the edge of the bed, then half rolling off Robby to face the other way.
“Papa,” Dennis sighs, hand immediately reaching the distance across to Jack. He takes Dennis’ hand, kisses over his knuckles and follows the pull of Dennis’ hand to scoot closer across the bed. Once close enough, and with Dennis now on his side between them, he fists that hand in Jack’s shirt. “Off.”
“Shirt off?” Jack asks, already reaching for the hem. He pulls it off and it disappears somewhere behind him, both Robby and Dennis already focused on the planes and curves of his bared chest.
Dennis’ hand reaches out again, landing in a soft spot below his rib cage. He runs his fingertips over the spot. It’s not anywhere particularly notable, not one of the places Jack is pockmarked with scars, but it seems important to Denny nonetheless.
Once satisfied with his inspection, his palm flattens and he rubs his hand over Jack’s chest, catching the fuzz of his chest hair and trying to be delicate with any scar tissue. Robby knows they don’t hurt Jack, but Jack’s told them that the texture catches against fingertips – pulls uncomfortably. Dennis’ touch is a bit too light, barely ghosting over them, and Jack usually hates that kind of thing; being treated like he’s soft, or delicate. Had mentioned that bit about scars just to redirect them to the right places to be rough. But Denny has no pity for either of them, just love he’s a bit clumsy with.
“Papa’s OK?” Dennis asks.
“Papa’s OK,” Jack echoes.
“And safe?”
“And safe.”
“With Denny and Robby, and we’re – we’re together?”
“With Denny and Robby,” Jack dutifully recites, “And we’re staying together, yes baby.”
Dennis nods, fingers still carding across Jack’s chest.
Jack makes eye contact with Robby, the kind that says I’m going to try something, then tilts Dennis’ face up to look at him. “Have a nightmare?”
A mournful little noise comes from Dennis’ mouth, and he nods into Jack’s palm.
“In the nightmare, was Denny hurt?”
Another nod.
“Can you show Papa where to kiss it better?”
Dennis’ face pulls away from Jack’s hand, and he uncurls the arm below himself slowly. Robby feels like he’s watching it in slow motion as Denny taps at the base of his neck, and Jack shifts close to press kisses in a ring to all the skin he can reach.
“Daddy too,” Jack murmurs, looking up at Robby over the curve of Dennis’ shoulder. When he pulls back, Robby’s there to kiss the suddenly cold skin.
They both look over Denny, curled between them.
“Anything still scaring you, from the nightmare?” Jack asks.
Dennis’ lower lip quivers, and he nods.
“Tell us about it?”
It takes time for him to find the words, but eventually they come. “Papa got hurt. Daddy was alone. Papa was – and then Denny. And Daddy was left,” he squeezes out, trying to fight the tears as they well and spill over his blotchy cheeks.
“That must’ve been so scary,” Jack agrees, “Your Papa and Daddy are always going to look out for each other, and for you. I’m not letting your Daddy go, you know that? That’s what we promised each other when we got married.” Jack says, pulling Robby’s arm over the both of them. “We’re safe, you’re safe, and no one’s gonna be alone. We’ll always look after our baby.”
Dennis nods, wrapping his hand around the closest part of Robby’s forearm.
“Daddy’s got you, it’s OK,” Robby murmurs into Dennis’ curls.
Dennis squirms then again between them, and they stop pressing in quite as tight to let him move. He shifts down the bed, first, pressing a long kiss to the spot on Jack’s belly he’d been so intent on earlier. He rubs his head against the spot, for good measure, before rolling onto his other side.
Robby looks into his teary, determined face, “Kissing Papa better?” He asks, and Dennis is already moving closer to kiss his chest too. Higher this time, right over his – over his heart. “Sweetheart,” he says, feeling the tears spring to his own eyes again. But Dennis isn’t done, moving up even further, dodging the kiss Robby tries to give his cheek, and places his own kiss in the centre of Robby’s forehead.
“Daddy ‘nd Papa are better now,” Dennis whispers, and then pulls back.
Robby gets to have his kiss on Dennis’ cheek, then, gets both while he’s there, and then releases Dennis to lay between them again.
“All better now, thank you baby,” Jack agrees, to an overwrought nod from Dennis. He’s tired, poor thing. “Wanna get rid of the bad feelings? You know this one, gimme a biiig deep breath in, as much as you can,” he says, and Dennis dutifully follows. “And on the breath out, we’re gonna breathe out all of the bad stuff, just like this,” Jack says, giving an exaggerated big sigh out. Dennis, well, he tries – but his nose must still be blocked from the crying so he ends up snorting and startling himself. Jack stifles a laugh, taking the handkerchief Robby passes him, “Here baby, blow.”
He mouths thank you to Robby while Dennis blows his nose. Robby lifts his brows, mouthing the same thing back as he looks meaningfully to Jack’s basket of goodies.
“Lets do another one, out your mouth this time, hm? We can do as many as you want. Another biiig breath in, as much air as you can, and hold it here for just a second before we let it go like ahhhhh,” Jack says, to far more success this time as Dennis sighs out with him.
He sniffles, breaks into a yawn shortly after. Then, like the sun peaking over the clouds, he smiles up at them both.
Love you, Denny, Robby thinks to himself, right as Jack says, “Love you,” and bops Dennis on the nose.
Dennis huffs a tiny laugh, and Robby feels the weight of the morning finally lifting. “Love Papa, love Daddy.”
“Love you too Denny, love you Jack,” Robby mumbles, rubbing at his beard.
“Daddy’s so shy,” Jack snickers, blowing him an air kiss, the ass. Before Robby can make any rude gestures back at him, he’s turning his attention back to Dennis. “Now, all the bad feelings are gone, and all of us are home together; isn’t that a treat? Why don’t we get some breakfast, hm?”
Dennis gives a drawn out, “Nooo,” but it’s just whiny this time, clearly from tiredness.
“You and Daddy can lay on the couch together, and Papa will cook your favourite. You can watch your shows, and have an icypole,” Jack promises. Dennis is clearly thinking about it, fidgeting with Robby’s fingers.
“M’kay, with Bear, too,” he adds.
“Definitely with Bear,” Robby agrees, “Otherwise he won’t know what happens in your shows.”
Dennis, satisfied with this agreement, follows Jack out to the kitchen with their fingers laced together. Robby swaps out his tear and snot stained shirt, grabs Denny’s favourite grippy socks, and grabs some jumpers for all of them.
When he arrives, Jack’s standing by the couch petting Dennis’ hair as he flicks through to find Dennis’ last watched show. It’s a documentary this time, about deep sea animals and such. He and Jack always vet them for anything scary or sad, but Denny often likes zoning out to documentaries – just watching the beautiful scenery and all of the animals and plants. Dennis is sat attentively, already clutching Bear to his chest.
He starts up the coffee maker, and retrieves an electrolyte icypole from the freezer, taking care to cut the sharp edges off the opening.
He passes Dennis the icypole as he takes a seat beside him, wrapping an arm around his baby and helping him into his socks. He curls his fingers through his hair, looking over at Jack.
Jack catches him looking once he gets the show started and passes over the remote. He raises an eyebrow at what must be a particularly smitten look on Robby’s face.
“Thank you,” Robby says, angling his head up for a kiss with his husband. Jack still tastes of mint gum.
“You can relax now, I’m home,” Jack teases, petting the short shorn hair at the base of Robby’s neck.
There’re a number of snarky things on the tip of his tongue to fire back, but what comes out instead is, “Sorry about the call, I thought he’d . . .” he trails off at the look Jack gives him.
“I trust you, and your judgement. If I didn’t, I would’ve been home the moment I got your first text.” Jack leaves no room for misinterpretation, and he loves it even when it cuts right to the core of him. “You did a good job. I’ll get your coffee, stay with him.” He leaves Robby with another kiss, and departs to his self-declared third favourite place on earth: their kitchen.
By the time the coffee’s ready, Dennis has finished his icy pole, passed the wrapper back to Robby, and slid down the couch until his head rests in Robby’s lap. Robby takes a grateful sip from the mug Jack presses into his hand, and doesn’t miss the sip cup of water he leaves silently on the table beside the armchair.
“Don’t forget, breakfast soon, OK? You two better not be completely asleep by the time I’m done,” Jack says, and Robby feels it’s particularly pointed to him, given how his eyelids are already drooping from the warm comfort of a slow morning coffee at home.
“Promise,” Denny’s voice comes from Robby’s lap, already half slurring. “Just a little,” he breaks around a yawn, “Nap.”
Jack laughs, ruffles his hair around Robby’s fingers.