How The Light Gets In

It’s a Tuesday when he finds himself awake at three in the morning, sitting with a coffee cup in the window seat of his bedroom. He sits and he thinks and when his coffee has long gone cold, the sun is coming up. His camera – not as nice as Jon’s, but a camera nonetheless – sits beside him, batteries dead and abused, but the memory card is full of bright energy and breathtaking views of the Vegas sights outside his window.


-


It’s the Thursday right after that Tuesday when he’s awake at noon, still, even after that 3 o’clock morning, and the sound of his footsteps on polished cherry hardwood floors echoes too loudly to be soothing like usual. His body is numb, maybe, and his blood is thrumming with only a chocolate bar and an off-brand can of soda in his system, and there’s a soft humming in his ears that reminds him of Brendon’s stupid antics.

It’s raining outside and as he peers through the front window, a seven-by-ten full-glass set up in the dining room (there are boxes under the chandelier, not a nice table with expensive linens), his eyes catch the slide of raindrops down slick glass, and for a few moments he’s trapped, caught by the sight and held there. He almost forgets that he hasn’t slept in two days.


-


It’s Saturday when Spencer calls, and he answers the phone even though he knows he probably shouldn’t. He says, “I can’t sleep, Spence.” and, really, that’s not completely weird because after worrying over his dad’s drinking problems and tour problems and personal problems and after dealing with Pete’s contagious insomnia, Ryan rarely slept, anyway.

Spencer says, “Well,” and their conversation ends there.


-


It’s Monday when Brendon calls and he doesn’t answer that phone.


-


I. nothing’s gonna change me so you don’t have to cry;

There’s knocking on his front door – or maybe the wall or the table or maybe it’s all just inside his head – and there’s a voice, too, familiar around the edges but hard to place because his vision is blurred and all he can really think about is sleep. The voice yells something and then the front door opens, slowly, cautiously. He blinks at the ceiling and then Brendon’s kneeling in front of him.

Brendon says, “Hey,” and his voice is soft, even, very unlike him. One of his hands lands carefully on Ryan’s cheek, soothing, and Ryan nuzzles into it, blinking up at him from the floor. “You didn’t answer the phone,” Brendon says, and Ryan suddenly remembers twenty thirty forty phone calls, the phone ringing for hours and hours while he lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

He swallows and says, “I haven’t slept in a week.”

Brendon jerks in surprise, eyes going wide, and Ryan whimpers when Brendon pulls away. Brendon fumbles for his sidekick in his pocket, Ryan saying, “Hey, what are you.” He doesn’t even have enough time to flip the phone open before the front door clicks and Spencer walks in, throwing his jacket onto the chair. When he spots them, Ryan lying on the living room floor and Brendon crouched next to him, he says, “Fuck.”


-


It’s Spencer house, so it should be comforting, naturally, and it’s and not his brand new three bedroom, but his parents’ house, where Ryan spent most of his childhood. His parents are out of town, so he’s babysitting the dogs, anyway. Stopped in front of Spencer’s bedroom, Brendon standing behind them with Ryan’s bags, Ryan says against Spencer’s cheek, “I should’ve called you.”

Spencer says, “Yeah, but. We’ll get through this.”

Ryan slips under the blankets on Spencer’s bed, presses his face into the pillow and breathes. Spencer straightens the sheets and flips the lamp on, then off, then closes the curtains on the window and fumbles with the remote control of the TV. He says, absently, “Jon’s plane will be here soon.” Ryan groans and throws his hands over his eyes. Brendon, on the other hand, lights up.

Ryan says, “Spence, it’s not. I’m fine.”

Spencer ignores him and looks over at Brendon, standing in the doorway, still holding Ryan’s bags (and still smiling, thinking of Jon’s plane). “You’re going to have to stay here and watch Ryan,” He says seriously. “I have to pick up Jon from the airport. I need you to do this for me and not burn down the house.” Brendon nods and Spencer finishes with, “Be nice.”

Ryan says, “No, really, I’m fine.” and Brendon says, “I’m always nice.”

Spencer doesn’t look at Ryan, he just walks over to Brendon and kisses him, soft and hard and not enough, and Spencer pulls back to murmur against his lips, “It’ll be okay.” It’s not as confident as he’d hoped for. Spencer doesn’t look back as he leaves the room, leaving Ryan in bed by himself and leaving Brendon there, face flushed pink because one of the dogs is standing in the hallway, staring at him, tail wagging curiously.

Ryan stretches his hand out towards Brendon and Brendon finally drops Ryan’s bags, then hurries over to the bed and climbs on. They wrestle for a minute, Brendon rolling them over and Ryan fighting it, Ryan’s breathing heavy, labored, and Brendon stops, leaning over Ryan while they catch their breath, Ryan’s eyes closed, his mind focused.

Brendon shifts then, pulling Ryan against him, back-to-chest. Brendon smiles and Ryan says, “You’re in love with Jon.”

Brendon studies him for a long time. He finally says, “No,” then, “yeah, maybe,” but, “not really.” Ryan blinks at him, then stretches and reaches up to rub the heel of his hand against his eyes, skin pulled tight against his bones. Brendon fits his fingers over Ryan’s hip and says, “All of you.” Ryan doesn’t meet his eyes, but nods anyway. With Ryan’s thumb stroking over his jaw, Brendon sighs and drifts off to sleep.


-


The front door slams open and Ryan jerks, startled, and Brendon blearily opens his eyes, murmuring into Ryan’s hair. There are frantic footsteps on the stairs, and then Jon is in the doorway, staring at them, not looking at all worried, just looking like he always does. Cool, collected. Happy. He is happy to see them, and that shows in his eyes.

He doesn’t pay attention to Ryan’s luggage, still on the floor where Brendon dropped it, he only notices Ryan and Brendon entwined on the bed. Brendon blinks awake, suddenly aware of Jon’s presence, and he smiles, happy and wide and something Ryan hasn’t seen in a while (then, he’s been hiding out in his house for a week without sleep, so). Jon ignores him, though, and makes him way to the bed.

Brendon makes a sound, low and desperate in the back of his throat, and Jon leans foreword, threading fingers through Ryan’s hair and kissing him, holding him still. Ryan tilts his head back and lets Jon deepen the kiss, just for a few seconds, and when Jon pulls back, he asks, “How do you feel?”

Brendon’s knee is pressed into his side and his head is spinning and his vision is blurred, but he doesn’t want them to worry, he really doesn’t, so he says, “Tired.” And, really, he isn’t lying. Jon gazes thoughtfully at him, fingers stroking across Ryan’s cheek, and his hand suddenly stills when he looks up at Brendon. Brendon whimpers and then they’re kissing above him, Brendon pulling Jon closer by the collar of his shirt. Ryan glances over at Spencer, quick, not wanting to look away and miss something, and he’s standing in the doorway, smirking.

Above him, Jon pulls away, Brendon biting his lower lip, and Ryan’s heart thrums in his chest, suddenly beating faster because Brendon’s lips already look swollen, inviting, but then Jon’s talking. He says, “We have to be at the airport in two hours, so you guys better get ready.”

This is news to them all, even Spencer, and Brendon says, “What? Where are we going?”

Jon says, “New Jersey.” and keeps the other details to himself.


-


Spencer holds him up, sort of, mostly just pressing him to the wall and trying to get shampoo lathered in his hair with one hand. Ryan’s shivering, his back pressed against the cold tile, and Spencer’s trying to get the spray on him, he really is, but it isn’t working too well so he just tries to work faster. Jon and Brendon have gone to Brendon’s house to pack Brendon’s clothes for the trip, and they’ll probably fuck against the wall in Brendon’s bedroom.

Ryan will admit he’s jealous, when it comes down to it in the end.

He struggles in Spencer’s grip, a one-sided fight because he’s weak and Spencer doesn’t even have to put any extra pressure to hold him still. He’s trying to turn around, but Spencer’s tightening his grip, hissing, “Ry, hey, stop,” and Ryan says, “Please, Spence, just. I need it.”

Spencer stops, his grip still tight, but he isn’t fighting back anymore, and he says, “What? No way. No fucking way, I’m not. Not with you like this.”

But Ryan’s hard – painfully so – and so it Spencer, so Ryan says, “Finger me.”

Spencer just jerks him off, keeping one hand pressed tightly against Ryan’s hip. After, Spencer juts against Ryan’s thigh until he comes, too, and then Ryan is still and Spencer manages to get them both clean and dressed before Jon and Brendon get back. When Jon and Brendon return, their hair wet and both of them smelling like soap, Brendon looking extremely smug, Ryan doesn’t say anything and Spencer’s glad.


-


II. I can accept that we’re going nowhere;

At the airport, there is a private plane and good food and what tops it all off is that Zach’s there, looking excited to see them, but also worried, trying to decide if it’s better to grin like he wants to or frown like he should. Brendon bounds over and jumps right into Zach’s arms, telling Zach about everything’s that’s happened over the period of his absence and Zach smiles along, laughs at them, with them, and even Spencer’s giddy with excitement.

Ryan, on the other hand, isn’t looking so good.

“Damn,” Zach says, “What did you do to him?”

Still in the backseat of Spencer’s car, head tilted back against the headrest, eyes closed, Ryan mutters, “Shut up, I’m fine.” They all exchange slightly injured looks, and then Zach hauls Ryan out of the car and over his shoulder and Brendon laughing, eyes bright, while Ryan squawks his protest and really, if he was scary before, now he’s just a helpless bunny. Or a marshmallow. Or one of those marshmallow bunnies that Spencer tries to keep away from Brendon because they’re pure fucking sugar and, seriously, Brendon’s hyper enough as it is.

Zach grins the whole way up the stairs onto the plane, and Ryan eventually calms down and doesn’t look at any of them, pissed. Brendon keeps close, still talking, and Spencer suddenly asks, “Hey, Jon, why are we going to Jersey, anyway?”

Even Brendon is quiet then, and Zach settles Ryan into a seat at the back of the plane with his laptop and a bottle of water. Brendon wriggles into the seat across from him, eyes still trained on Jon, and Ryan grunts unhappily, kicking his feet up into Brendon’s lap. Brendon doesn’t really care, just pulls off Ryan’s shoes and rubs his ankles.

Jon takes a deep breath, obviously trying to let the suspense kill them all, and he drops his bags from his arms and rolls his shoulders, careful. Arms stretched above his head, grinning as Brendon’s eyes follow the curve of his back, the vast plane of skin that shows when Jon’s t-shirt pulls above his hips, Jon says, “There’s a doctor.” Ryan groans, face in his hands, but he’s interested, and they all know it because he peeks out through his fingers and keeps listening. Jon continues, “He’s supposed to be really good, and as far as I know, he’s a complete jackass, but he’ll figure out what’s wrong. He always does.” Jon’s smiling when he finishes.

It’s silent while Spencer contemplates this, and Ryan presses his heel into Brendon’s thigh, not painfully so, just to get his attention. Zach finally says, “So, are we ready to go?” Really, he didn’t have to ask.


-


It’s a long flight, all the way from one side of the country to the other, and Brendon’s done pretty good, actually, with the having to sit still thing. Ryan’s slouched in his seat, in the corner so the back doesn’t recline, and Brendon’s keeping himself busy with a string on the end of Ryan’s pant leg. From the front, Zach suddenly pokes his head out and says, “Fifteen minutes.”

It’s abrupt, and Spencer immediately stands and tries to get some of their things together (Ryan’s laptop and Jon’s camera and Brendon’s shoes, tangled on the floor with Ryan’s.) When they’d last checked the time, they’d still had two hours to go. Ryan sits up, pulling his legs back and sliding them to the floor, struggling a little, almost, but hiding it from eyes that see it anyway. He pulls over his shoes and slips them on, bends over to tie the laces.

“Hey,” Brendon says, suddenly bent down with his head next to Ryan’s, watching him work at the shoes. “Let me do it.”

“No,” Ryan says, voice even because he’s so fucking tired. “It’s fine, I can do it myself.”

Only, really, he can’t, because he gets lightheaded as the plane stated to descend and so he sits back and lets Brendon do it for him.


-


When they get off the plane (Zach lets Ryan get off by himself, but only after Ryan gives in and lets Zach walk beside him, holding him steady.) there’s a van waiting for them, and Spencer gets this wave of nostalgia as he thinks about their first tour, starting out with the Academy and sleeping in the van between venues and hotels, headphones pressed into their ears to kill the noise and Brendon fighting with Ryan over who got to sit in which seat. He misses the bus, and touring, but then he looks at Ryan and all he wants to do is make things okay so they can all just lie in bed and play video games all day, forever.

Jon touches his shoulder and says, “Are you coming?”

He snaps out of his daydreams and climbs into the van.


-


The hospital is huge, but it’s just a hospital, and even if Ryan’s impressed, and even if he feels better about being there, he doesn’t say anything. Spencer and Jon venture inside and come back with a wheelchair and Ryan huffs indignantly, but doesn’t fight them when they make him get in. Inside the hospital, it takes Jon and Spencer and Zach five minutes in front of a map and a key to figure out where they need to go.

Brendon rubs soothing circles with his thumbs on Ryan’s shoulders and Ryan sighs, leaning back into his touch. Jon finally figures it out, bouncing on his feet, and he points to Floor 5, turning and going back for Ryan’s wheelchair. Brendon mutters when Jon pushes him aside, smiling and good-natured, and Ryan feels exhausted from just being around them, and that’s not even counting the whole no sleep in a week thing.

The receptionist is on the phone and people are walking around, knocking into them and they don’t seem to have time to say sorry. When they’d been waiting for ten minutes (or maybe more, probably, but Brendon was paying more attention to Ryan than anything else.) Jon finally says, “Okay, so. Where’s Dr. House?”

From behind him, there’s a voice. “That would be me. What could you possibly want?” They turned and, yeah, okay, jackass for sure.

Brendon blurts out, “Ryan’s sick and we need someone to tell us what’s wrong!”

House stares at them for a long time, contemplating. He finally says, “You need help. Why are you here?”

Spencer lets out an exasperated sigh and then, another doctor came up behind House, younger, with blonde hair and a bright smile. With an accent, he asks, “What are your symptoms?”


-


From his hospital bed, Ryan sighs, close to pouting, looking more miserable than ever. There is an IV in one arm, and a nurse is taking blood from the other; there are oxygen tubes and other tubes and beeping machines and he’s starting to feel a little claustrophobic. There’s another doctor now, writing things on his chart and checking his stats, his heart rate, his blood pressure.

She finally stops and looks at him. She looks tired, but she’s bright-eyed and doesn’t hesitate to bombard him with questions. “I’m Dr. Cameron,” She says, smiling, and Brendon smiles back. Ryan frowns. She pauses suddenly, then looks down at his chart. “You go by Ryan, right?” His lips twitch at the edges, but he won’t smile. He nods, once, curt. “Okay,” She says. “So, you haven’t slept in seven days.” He nods, just to confirm the statement. “Have you been eating regularly?”

Before he can answer, Spencer says, “Don’t lie to her, Ry.” Ryan glares at him, but it doesn’t have much venom behind it; it’s just Ryan being defiant. Ryan says, “Not really.”

“That’s normal, though,” Brendon says. “He never eats like he should.” Ryan glares at him, too, and Cameron nods.

“Any pain?” she asks, keeping her eyes off of Ryan and on the clipboard as if she can tell he doesn’t like being looked at.

Ryan says, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She shoots back, glancing at him.

“It’s, uhm.” He squints, sort of, thinking. “Like, it’s dulled, maybe. Or I could’ve just gotten used to it, since.” She watches him, pulling it out of him. “Sort of pressure at the base of my spine.” He makes a vague hand-gesture, and Ryan’s always been like that, big words and sophisticated (but not much) movements. Brendon blushes for him.


-


“We might have to induce a coma just so he gets some sleep,” Chase says, exasperated and not really sure what else to do. Ryan is poking at the cafeteria macaroni and cheese on his tray and pretending not to listen. Brendon is swinging his feet over the side of the hospital bed, sitting next to Ryan and trying to avoid all the wires and cords and tubes. Spencer, Jon, and Zach had gone out to find real food.

“Have we tried everything?” Foreman asked. He’d brought Ryan lunch. Ryan thought he was pretty nice, even if he wasn’t against poking Ryan with needles and shit.

“Yes,” Cameron sighed, but then House limped over and amended, “No.”

The rest of their conversation was in whispers, Cameron looking vaguely interested and Chase looking sort of freaked out. Brendon couldn’t hear what they were saying.


-


“Well,” Cameron said, shifting on her feet, not sure where to look. She finally sighed and looked up at Ryan, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Spencer was standing next to the hospital bed, rubbing his thumb over the tattoo on Ryan’s wrist, and Brendon was in a chair next to Jon. Zach stood outside, listening, but watching for anything suspicious. He was still on the job. “When was, uhm. The last time you had sex?”

Ryan flushed red immediately, the question thrown at him at a completely random time, and he looked up at Spencer, then at Brendon and Jon. Well, it had been in the shower, but not really, so it was weeks ago, at the cabin, just before they left for home. Jon had fucked him and then Brendon and then Spencer, all of them collapsing onto the bed after and spending the rest of the day there until the moon shone through the window and Jon pulled Brendon into the shower while Spencer drew patterns on Ryan’s skin.

He isn’t sure how to answer. Staring at his feet, not blushing, because that’s not what he does – that isn’t his thing – Spencer says, “Three weeks ago. Maybe a little more.”

Cameron lets out a little rushed, “Oh.” She writes something on the chart and leaves the room. After that, none of them say anything.


-


“Okay, so.” It must be important because House is in the room, and it’s not like he does anything except sit around and complain and limp to the door and stare at Ryan until his skin feels raw. House stops just inside the door, looks around and seems to think about pacing, but it’s not like he can because of his leg and because there are four extra bodies in the room. “I’ll just tell you,” He says.

“Wait,” Jon says, smiling because that’s what he does. “You can fix it, right?” The room is silent, the clicking and beeping of Ryan’s machines the only disturbance.

House says, “If ‘fix’ is what you call it.” He looks at Ryan and says, “I wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.”


-


Brendon leaves the room, finds a garbage can, and throws up.


-


“You’ll have to come back,” Cameron says, looking a little green herself, even though it’s been an entire day since the announcement and even Brendon is looking a bit better. Ryan still looks sort of numb. “You’re only four weeks along, now. It’s amazing we caught it. You’ll need checkups at two months, three months, four months, and by then, you’ll start showing, so you’ll have to find a way to hide it.” Ryan Ross suddenly wearing oversized hoodies is going to be a big deal. “You’ll have to come in every two weeks after you hit six months and if you make it to eight months, it’ll be amazing.”

They’re all looking a bit pale, for obvious reasons.

“So,” Cameron says, uncomfortable in the silence. “It would probably be best if you just stuck with us. I know it’s kind of far away from home, but there are a lot of specialists in New York, and being this close, we can get help without leaking your name.” She knows who they are; she’s a fan of their music, but this is business. “And, you know. You can trust us.”

Ryan isn’t sure what to think or who to trust anymore.

“Wait,” Spencer interrupts. He asks, “Ry will be able to sleep, right?” Ryan had slept for hours that morning after House had slipped something into his coffee.

“Yes,” Cameron says, “Hormones will straighten this all out.”

Ryan doesn’t look happy.

She finishes, “Do you want us to set appointments?”

His voice scratchy and raw, unused and distant, Ryan says, “Yes.”


-


III. we’ve broken our mirrors;

Pete thinks it’s funny.


-


IV. the phone would ring like a joke that’s left unsaid;

“I was thinking green,” Ryan says thoughtfully, looking at three different paint decks.

“Really?” Spencer asks, leaning over the back of the sofa to peer over Ryan’s shoulder at the colors.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, smiling softly like he never did before. “Like, green or yellow. It’s, you know. Neutral.”

Brendon drops himself onto the sofa next to Ryan and curls into the warmth of Ryan’s blankets. He points to a color on one of the decks, a light green, and then he points out a yellow, too, on a deck that Ryan wasn’t holding. “You dropped it over there,” Brendon says, pointing somewhere and Ryan doesn’t catch it because Brendon’s still fucking fast, even though he’d settled a tremendous amount since. The discovery.

Ryan nods, holding the colors close and thinking it over, and while he’s distracted, Brendon’s hand flits under the blanket and then under Ryan’s shirt to rest on his stomach. Ryan rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that shows (the hormones have made him so fucking nice). He says, “It’s not – ”

“We’re going to Jersey next week,” Spencer suddenly reminds him.

Brendon perks up, turning to look over at Spencer. “Jon?”

Spencer shrugs, smiling to himself. “He’s going to meet us there.”

Brendon grins, and it’s contagious; Ryan can’t help it. Fingers still splayed across Ryan’s stomach, Brendon wrinkles his nose and Ryan cringes when the baby moves. Ryan’s still not used to it. He’s almost twenty-two weeks in, and really, he should be fine with this now. It’s just. Weird. Brendon asks, “Are you gonna, you know. Find out what it is?”

He’s thought about it, yes, and this will be his third time going back, so it’s not like the doctors haven’t asked him about it, too. He just. “I’m not sure,” He says. “I don’t think. I’m not sure I want to know. It’s still so.”

He pauses, breathes, and Brendon says, “Weird, right?”

Ryan nods.

“Hey,” Spencer says, coming around from the kitchen with tea and (because Ryan’s eating habits have gotten worse, seriously, this is terrible) he also brings marshmallows so Ryan doesn’t start pouting. “Have you thought of names?”

He doesn’t even want to go there, either.


-


“Oh, no way.” Ryan says when Spencer opens the door. Pete grins at him, manic like always, but he has presents and Ryan really can’t refuse. Patrick is with him, too, and Ryan likes Patrick. Patrick is nice. Pete is just weird. Brendon gets excited and starts rambling, telling Pete to come over and feel Ryan up while also maybe feeling the baby move. Ryan frowns.

“It’s gonna be a little Wentz,” Pete says happily, both hands spread over Ryan’s growing belly.

Ryan says, “Get your hands off my kid, Wentz.” And even Spencer is startled, because it’s not like Ryan has talked about it much. He’s only just started talking about painting the nursery, and that was only because Brendon mentioned it. Pete grins, though, and Ryan’s really getting too nice with all the hormones and he really needs to stop smiling back.

Pete says, “You’re totally gonna name it after me. I know you are.”

Ryan says, “Definitely not.”


-


He’s almost familiar with them, now, but he thinks that probably has something to do with the hormones (everything does, these days) and it also maybe has something to do with the fact that he hasn’t seen House in a while, which is totally the best thing about coming. House tends to avoid him. “When my mom was pregnant with me,” Brendon says, hands clasped behind his back, grinning like a little kid, “She ate pickles and pancakes.”

Spencer makes a face and Ryan says, “So that’s why you’re so weird.”

Brendon frowns, injured, but then Ryan’s eyes light up and he points, and Jon’s there, waving at them from across the parking lot, standing under the awning of the hospital doors. Brendon grins, wide and happy, and he’s childlike again, just for a moment. He doesn’t run, though, like he would’ve four months ago. Now, he’s all for Ryan; now, he guards Ryan like a ferocious wild animal thing.

Brendon jumps on him when they get close enough, and Jon laughs, smelling like Chicago and coffee and cigarettes. Ryan smiles, leaning in to hug him, and Jon’s hands are twitching towards his stomach, towards the little bulge that’s there, barely noticeable, but they can’t, not outside, not here. So they go inside and take the elevator up to the fifth floor.

Cameron always lights up when she sees them, even though it’s only been twice, and Ryan looks forward to it, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Chase spots them first and waves them over, grinning at Ryan and glancing down at his stomach. “It’s good to see you,” Chase says, and he means it. “Cameron’s with House right now; we’re working on something, but she’ll be over in a few.” He leaves them in a room, Ryan sitting on the bed, swinging his feet, and Brendon sits next to him, shoulders bumping.

Jon hesitates once in the room, but Brendon laughs and beckons him over, and he really can’t help it – the curiosity – so he obliges and when he’s standing in front of Ryan, he says, “Can I?”

Ryan breathes, “Yes,” because it’s Jon, and it shouldn’t be like that. They shouldn’t have to be separated like this.

Jon’s careful, lifting Ryan’s shirt (Brendon helps, fingers ghosting across Ryan’s skin as he holds the material up, lets Jon under) and slips his hand under, splaying his fingers across smooth skin. It’s different, sort of, but comforting (because it’s Jon) and he likes this, wishes it could be like this forever. Jon looks up at him, and it’s surprising when Jon leans in and hugs him, but Ryan hugs back, hiding his face in Jon’s neck and willing the wetness in the corners of his eyes to go away.

Jon pulls away and steadies himself, gives Ryan a shaky smile. The door opens, then, and Cameron walks in, eyes light and happy like always, and Ryan’s face breaks into a grin. It shouldn’t be like that, he thinks, because he doesn’t even know her. He doesn’t even care, either.

“How are you?” she asks, breathless, like she really wants to know, like her life depends on it. Ryan’s smile should be able to tell the whole story.

“We’re really glad the morning sickness is over,” Spencer says lightly.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, loud, but that’s normal. “The morning sickness was hardest on Spence.”

Cameron laughs, genuine, and she finally pinpoints Ryan and asks, “So, are we doing an ultrasound today?”

The room goes quiet.

“Uhm,” He says, biting his lip. “I don’t, like. I don’t wanna know what it is.” He looks ashamed, almost, but Cameron says, “Okay, come on, then.” and he feels much better.

Jon says, “What do we do?”

Cameron looks at them for a second, questioning, then she smiles and says, “You come, too.”

Ryan looks relieved (a lot, not a little) and on the way to the ultrasound room, Brendon holds his hand.

It’s a normal padded table and he’s seen an ultrasound machine before, of course (he worked in a vet office, of course he’d see things like this) but it was different, close up, and Cameron coaxed him onto the table before pushing his shirt away and abruptly saying, “This is going to be kind of cold, okay?” He doesn’t have time to ask what she means, it’s just sudden ohmygodfreezing, and he goes rigid.

Brendon laughs, leaning against the table and watching the screen, even though there’s nothing there yet. Cameron lowers the scope, finally, and spreads the (really fucking cold) blue gel around, searching. It’s harder to find than normal, and she’s biting her lip because this could be, like, rocket science or something because what Ryan has isn’t exactly normal.

She finds it, finally, the baby, and it takes Ryan a minute to figure out what’s going on, what’s where and which part is the baby, even. He gets it, though, and Brendon squeals after a few seconds and points out, “A foot, Ry, look!” and Ryan’s heart thrums, high in his throat, and he thinks his chest just might burst.

It’s over after a few minutes, and Cameron turns the lights on before she finishes typing in things, labeling important parts. He knows that the screen shows pictures still of the baby, and that she knows if he’s having a girl or a boy, and he just hopes she doesn’t tell him.

She cleans him up with some towels and he pulls his shirt down, finally comfortable again, and he sits up to Spencer’s awaiting arms. He grins, light and real, and his heart feels like it might burst from his chest any second, and still, he thinks that even if that happens, he’ll die happy. It’s mostly silent while Cameron shuffles around, printing out pictures and turning off the machine.

She hands Ryan an envelope filled with pictures from the ultrasound, and he takes it with a smile on his face.

They’re getting ready to leave the room when Brendon says, “Wait, can you.” He stares at the floor, ringing his hands nervously, and he says, “Do you know how, is there a way to, like. To tell. Who the baby, you know. Whose baby it is.” He’s blushing, bright red under the fluorescent lights in the room.

Ryan doesn’t say anything; it’s a question they’ve all wanted to ask.

Cameron is silent for a while, gazing at each of them in turn, and she finally lifts a hand up to rub at her temples, trying to work the stress out. “There’s a way, yes, but. It’s different with this case. It would be a surgery instead of just inserting a needle, you know? It would only be a cut an inch or two long, just enough to fit in a scope and then there would be the point where the needle was inserted, and it’s like.”

“Do it.” Ryan says. He’s staring at the floor because he doesn’t want to see anyone’s reaction.

After a long pause, Cameron says, “Okay.”


-


It doesn’t take long, and it doesn’t hurt – it’s just a cut, and there are stitches and he isn’t bleeding, so. (The pain meds are great, too.) He wakes up to Brendon’s worried face, leaning over him and watching him like a hawk. The moment his eyes open, Brendon disappears, and then reappears a second later, only this time he has Spencer and Jon with him.

Spencer immediately asks, “How do you feel?”

He reaches a hand up and rubs his eyes. He feels like what he needs is a long, hot shower. “Like shit,” he mumbles, but then grins because Spencer would seriously freak out.

“We can leave in a few hours,” Jon tells him, stroking along Ryan’s jaw and playing with a piece of hair that had fallen in his face. “After you feel better and they give you the results.”

“Us,” Ryan mutters, eyes closed, leaning into Jon’s touch. “Give us the results.” He opens his eyes and looks at them. “This isn’t a me thing.”

And they all knew it’s true.


-


While he’d been asleep, Cameron had gathered DNA samples from Brendon, Jon, and Spencer. It was weird, but she didn’t say anything.


-


Brendon was twitchy, restless, not sure what to do with himself. Cameron stood looking just as nervous as Brendon felt, only maybe a little greener. That could soon change. He bit his lip. “Well,” She says, “It’s. I can just – what do you want me to do?”

“Just tell us,” Ryan says, staring at his hands in his lap and not at anyone else in the room.

Cameron takes a deep breath, closes her eyes like this is the hardest thing she’s ever done, and she says, “Brendon.” Then, she flees the room.


-


V. all I can think about is waiting and the people we are fading into;

They don’t talk about it. Not on the flight back, and not over vegetarian lasagna that night. They don’t talk about it the week after, and actually, they don’t talk about anything else, either. They haven’t spoken to each other since the hospital. Spencer keeps sighing loudly so Ryan will hear and Jon, who had come to stay until they went back to Jersey during month six, was sulking, and that was a bad sign.


-


Spencer is out getting groceries (and probably some baby toys, too, because that’s one of Spencer’s favorite things now.) and Jon is out on The Strip with his camera, so they’re left by themselves, and it’s bound to happen - the conversation.

Brendon hasn’t even been happy lately; he’s mostly just been looking sadly in Ryan’s direction and hoping Ryan didn’t notice, while Ryan has been mostly just keeping his eyes on the ground.

He’s lying on the sofa, propped up on three pillows (two of which are special baby pillows that Spencer and Jon bought the moment Ryan started showing) and his back hurts and his feet hurt and his head hurts, too, but that’s probably because he’s thinking too much. It’s an accident that Brendon comes in, wandering aimlessly, looking sad. He stills when he realizes Ryan is there, and he thinks about leaving, and he thinks about staying, and he really just isn’t sure what to do.

Ryan’s hand is on his belly, still growing, not much bigger than before, but still getting there. He hasn’t noticed Brendon yet, seems intent on thinking about whatever it is he’s focused on. Then, suddenly, Ryan gasps and bolts up, sitting straight, and then Brendon’s there, just on impulse. He breathes, “Are you okay? What happened?” and then Ryan’s laughing.

Ryan laughs and laughs and says, “It’s nothing – it just startled me.” He laughs some more and then silence settles over them, almost awkward, but not quite because they’re RyanandBrendon.

Brendon takes a deep breath then, and he asks, “Are you mad at me?”

Ryan’s surprised, and his eyes show it. He says, “What, that you. That it’s you?”

Brendon eyes go wide and he says, “No, just. Are you mad that I, like,” he looks at his hands, anywhere but at Ryan, “got you pregnant.”

There’s a pause, and this time the silence is comfortable, even if only because they’re speaking again. Ryan says, “What? No, it’s not. It’s not your fault, of course not. Bren,” Ryan looks sad, and Brendon hates that – he does, really, and it makes him want to cry.

“I don’t know how it,” Brendon’s voice cracks and Ryan leans foreword, and Brendon just collapses against him.

“It’s okay,” Ryan says, whispers. “It’s okay, it. I’m allergic to raspberries.” Brendon knows this, and it’s stupid, because that shouldn’t have anything to do with it, but Ryan’s still talking. “It’s Pete, with his stupid shit that he always sends as jokes, and that day. When we all, you know, Spencer pulled out that bottle of raspberry lube that fucking Pete had to send over, and I guess it had raspberry extract in it - something - but. It was an infection and something with my bloodstream and. I asked Cameron not to tell anyone. It was so pathetic and – ”

Brendon kisses him.


-


The house is quiet when Spencer opens the front door, and when he sees that Ryan isn’t sulking on the sofa, he just knows something is wrong. He sets down his bags of groceries on the kitchen table, and his keys jingle in protest when he sets them there, too, instead of on the hook inside the front door (an investment for Brendon, because he was always losing their keys. Seriously.) and that’s when he notices that down the hall, the nursery door is open.

Standing there, in the doorway of the nursery, he really isn’t sure what to think. Ryan is laughing, sitting on the floor, clutching his stomach, half bent over and just - giggling. Brendon is there, too, kneeling next to him, ducking his head and grinning sheepishly as if he was the one that caused Ryan’s sudden fit of giggles.

Spencer says, “Uhm.”

Ryan looks up at him, eyes bright and still smiling, and he says, “We decided to paint today.”

There’s blue painters tape everywhere, and halfway up the wall there are two stripes. Between them, the wall is painted black. Most of the top half of the room is green, and there are a few smears of yellow on the bottom half, but most of the paint is on Brendon and Ryan, paint handprints on Ryan’s belly where his shirt has ridden up. Jon walks in, then, and he sees Spencer down the hall and comes to investigate.

One look at the room and he says, “Did I miss something?”


-


Ryan and Brendon are bent over a selection of baby books, pointing things out to each other about the covers and the spines and the pages that would need to be filled on the inside. The room is a mess, mostly, with the walls finally painted and when Spencer had returned with three bags of baby books for Ryan to choose from, they’d been leaning over the instructions of the crib.

“I have to return the ones that you don’t want unmarked, Bren,” Spencer tells him, leaning against the doorframe and trying not to get caught up in how adorable they are together. Brendon keeps slipping his hand under Ryan’s shirt.

Brendon looks up at him, wide-eyed as usual, but he doesn’t snap back like he would’ve a few months ago. Spencer sometimes thinks that Brendon has changed more than Ryan has. Then Spencer remembers that Ryan is about to have a fucking baby and, yeah, none of them saw that coming.

Spencer says, “You’re almost at six months. We’ll have to go to Jersey soon.”

Ryan stops smiling and Spencer wishes he hadn’t said anything.


-


“Three months is a long time,” Ryan says mournfully.

“It won’t be three months,” Brendon tells him, even though they both know it could be. Brendon presses closer, nose in Ryan’s neck, and when Ryan jerks in surprise, Brendon’s hand flies to his stomach. His face falls, and he suddenly looks sadder than Ryan. “It always stops,” He says, pouting. “It doesn’t like me.”

“It’ll like you just fine,” Ryan says, smiling as Brendon trails his fingers downward. The door opens, then, and light floods the room, and they’re used to that now – Spencer walking in on them at the weirdest times (like now. Ryan glances at the clock and, yeah, shouldn’t everyone be asleep?).

Spencer closes the door and looks pointedly at Brendon, says, “You keep stealing him. It’s not fair.” and Ryan pauses for a second because that was very Brendon-ish; Spencer must be hanging out around him a little too much. Brendon makes grabby hand motions at him and Spencer climbs into bed with them, squirming until Ryan moves over into the middle enough that Spencer has some space.

Spencer curls in close, draping himself over Ryan in a very Brendon-ish fashion (probably because Brendon is draped over Ryan’s other half, and Ryan swears Spencer has been shooting jealous glances at him for the past week). Brendon says, “You’ve got it bad.”

Spencer shoots back, “You need it bad.”

Brendon flails, says, “Fuck, yes, but I can’t fuck him!” and then he quiets down, eyes Spencer suspiciously. He crawls over Ryan, careful not to knee him anywhere or even touch him, and he sprawls across Spencer, says, “You can fuck me, Smith.”

Ryan groans, throwing his hands over his eyes. He says, “No way, you guys aren’t going to fuck here and then leave me out.”

“Of course not, Ry,” Spencer says softly, fingers stroking over Ryan’s stomach, then down, beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.

Eyes still covered, frowning, Ryan says, “I hate you.”


-


The nursery is finished, completely painted and full of furniture. The crib is together and there are tons of baby clothes in the closet already. Staring, Ryan says, “Someone will have to come back before the rest of us and clean, you know? Dust and shit, because.”

“It’ll be fine, Ry,” Spencer says. “We’ll take care of it.”

Ryan nods because he knows they will.


-


When they get to Jersey, House is there to meet them at the hospital. Ryan’s stomach drops a little, but he doesn’t say anything because House was the person who figured out what was wrong with him. House limps over and takes Jon’s paper coffee cup, Jon’s smile never faltering, and he downs the cup’s contents, making a face and then leading them along to a room.

“Six and a half months,” He says, because that’s how far along Ryan is. Ryan doesn’t say anything. “Since you had to go and stay in the hotel across the street, I guess I’ll have to see you before you deliver.” He sighs heavily, rolling his eyes.

Spencer frowns.

Chase comes in and says, “Ultrasound?”


-


Halfway through seven months, Ryan leans over the side of the bed and watches as Jon and Brendon play a game of cards on the floor. Spencer stands by the window, staring out into the streets. It’s December, and it’s cold (so fucking cold), but Ryan brought scarves and jackets and blankets and they’ll be fine. Ryan jolts up, looking suddenly pale, and Brendon goes silent, watching him. Spencer says, “Ry?”

Ryan says, “Uhm.”

He wrinkles his nose and seems to concentrate for a second, then he gasps in pain and says, “Okay. Hospital.”


-


VI. lift my arms, throw my spirit in the pouring rain;

House doesn’t look concerned when they show up, Ryan still gasping and trying to keep quiet, clutching his stomach. Cameron comes over and says, “Are you okay? What – ”

House cuts her off and says, “Prepare him for surgery.” then he waves Ryan off and limps away.

Ryan looks up at Cameron and says, “What?”

Biting her lip, she says, “I guess you’re about to have a baby.”


-


It’s a c-section, because that’s really their only choice with this. There’s a sheet hanging in front of his face, and it’s bothering him, but Brendon’s there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Ryan says, “You don’t have – ”

Brendon says, “I want to.”

He can’t feel anything, but when they make the first cut, he just knows.


-


VII. I bleed confidence from deep within;

The room is quiet and the silence is burning, painful after all the crying. The incision is annoying already, stapled shut and the pain meds are starting to wear off, just barely. Spencer is somewhere, not in the room, and Ryan doesn’t blame him. Not after everything. Brendon won’t meet his eyes.

Cameron says, “It’ll be okay.”

Ryan isn’t sure if he should believe her.


-


Blinking up at them from inside the incubator is three pounds of tiny feet and tiny hands and bright blue eyes. Brendon and Ryan both have brown eyes, so Brendon comments on this. What Ryan doesn’t tell them is that his dad had blue eyes. Spencer stays quiet, too. Brendon’s fingers skin over his wrist, and he smiles (can’t help it). The baby is a girl.

Foreman, watching from across the room with Ryan’s chart, says, “Babies younger than this have survived. She’ll be fine.” Ryan nods at him, grateful for the reassurance. “You should be able to go home in a few weeks, once she stabilizes and grows some. She’ll, of course, always be pretty small for her age, but.”

Brendon smiles, bumping shoulders with Ryan. He says, “Do we have a name yet?”

They don’t.


-


Sitting in the middle of the floor in the nursery, he looks around and isn’t sure what to think. The baby is asleep in Jon’s arms on the sofa – has been for the past hour. He’s thankful for the silence, even though it’s only been a week.

Brendon pokes his head in the room, eyes wide, smiling, face flushed. He says, “She’s awake.” He steps foreword and holds out his hand. Ryan lets Brendon pull him up, and once Ryan’s on his feet, he doesn’t let go.


-


VIII. everything’s gonna fall right into place;

“Hey, hey, Uncle Spence, look at this!” Sage comes running up to him, and she’s carrying an old Guitar Hero controller. He follows her back into the living room, but she doesn’t show him anything on the guitar. In fact, she drops it and climbs onto the piano bench, looks around for a few seconds, then places her fingers and starts to play. He can’t really say he’s surprised, because the kid is a prodigy, always learning new things before he can blink. But, seriously, she’s playing Time To Dance and she only first heard that song three days ago.

When she’s finished, she looks up at him, grinning, her long hair falling in her face and she looks more like Brendon than ever before. Spencer smiles, says, “That’s great, Sage.”

The front door flies open and Brendon steps inside, panting. He spots Sage and grins, says, “I thought we were playing hide-and-seek outside.”

Sassy, Sage says, “I changed my mind.”

Ryan steps into the room and looks at them, then says, “Hey, there’s my hat.” Sage’s eyes widen and she grabs the old paperboy hat from on top of the piano and puts it on her head. It’s too big, and it falls into her eyes, but she grins at them and Ryan laughs.

The door opens, then, and Jon walks in with two duffel bags slung over his shoulders. Behind him, he has friends. Ryan says, “Oh, great, you guys again.”

Pete grins at him, and Sage yelps, “Hemmy!” She jumps from the piano bench (Spencer flinches, almost leans to catch her) and runs over to them, dropping to her knees and letting the dog lick her face. Pete drops his bag and drops to his knees, too, and Sage says, “Uncle Pete!” From across the room, Ryan groans.

William says, “Pete, get out of the doorway. We all wanna see the princess.”


-


The thing about William is he’s Sage’s favorite person in the world. He’ll lie on the floor with her for hours, letting her sprawl across him, and he’ll sing for her – whenever and whatever she wants, always (Brendon will too, obviously, and Patrick and Pete, and even Ryan if she asks nicely). Ryan kind of can’t blame her; William might be weird (okay, really weird) but he’s nice to Sage and that’s what counts.

Sage, lying on her stomach on the floor with her feet swinging up behind her, looks up at William. She says, “Wanna watch me play piano?” She grins, looking just like Brendon, especially with her hair hanging in her eyes (it always is; Spencer will comment on it and Sage will blow her bangs away, then grin slyly at him, one of the only things she gained from Ryan).

William says, “Yeah, show me.”

Sage jumps up and runs to the piano, looking back over her shoulder to make sure everyone is watching her. She turns back to the piano and places her fingers, then plays. William blinks, then turns to look at Ryan, and Ryan looks surprised, too. She only plays for a few seconds, but everyone knows what it is. She turns and looks expectantly at them.

It’s weird, Ryan thinks, that since Sage learned how to work the stereo system, all she’s been doing is learning new songs. Everyone stares at her for a while, and then suddenly, Pete laughs. He looks over at Ryan and says, “I’m stealing your kid now, `kay?”

Really, a five year old should not know how to play Lying on the piano.

Of course, Ryan isn’t complaining.


-


Sage can play the piano, mostly, and some guitar, and she’s learning drums on a mini set that Spencer bought her for her fifth birthday. It’s obvious that piano is her favorite, and the fact that she could read music before she knew her ABCs was definitely something to talk about. It’s also obvious that she resembles Brendon the most, with her dark hair and bright grins and playful antics, not to mention her love for music and ability to play any instrument that isn’t too big for her.

From Ryan, she gained some of his attitude (she’s sassy and always determined and when she doesn’t get what she wants, she’ll pout for hours) and she inherited his father’s blue eyes (Brendon still doesn’t know where these came from; Ryan isn’t sure he ever wants to tell) and they’re hoping she’ll get his way with words, but that’s something they won’t find out until much later.

Hugging Patrick’s legs, Sage says, “Swing me!”

This is new, something Patrick hasn’t heard before, and he looks over at Spencer for help. Brendon comes over, though, and scoops Sage up and she screams, laughing and giggling and kicking her legs. He kneels and pins her to the ground, tickling her, fingers working at her sides and she squeals, still kicking and calling for Ryan’s help. Ryan just watches, leaning against the doorway from the kitchen and smiling; Patrick wants to burn that image into his mind – Ryan smiling like this, easy and carefree like nothing else in the world matters.

Brendon finally lets her go, and she scrambles to her feet and runs to Ryan, and he catches her just in time, pulls her up and throws her over his shoulder. She giggles, finally taking a second to breathe, and she says, “Hi.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and Brendon, still on the floor, and he looks at Sage and says, “Hi to you, too.”

She squirms from his arms and runs to Jon (she’s so full of energy, always, just like Brendon only worse because she’s so much younger) and she climbs into the chair beside him, making herself comfortable on his lap. Jon says, “I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Sage says, “You’re on!”


-


Ryan stands watching for a few moments, silent, wondering what he’s going to do with this mess. Sage is asleep on the floor, curled into a ball with her head pillowed on Hemingway’s chest. Even William finally quieted down, leaning back on the sofa and talking softly with Pete about unimportant things. Patrick and Spencer are discussing new FBR bands in the corner. Brendon and Jon are somewhere, probably hiding in the attic or in one of the bedrooms.

He sighs and leans down, gently scoops Sage to his chest and turns to take her down the hall to put her to bed. Sage shivers, cold, and she buries her face in his shirt. She’s wearing his hat again and it’s hanging over her eyes; he pulls it off and tosses it onto the table, then leaves to room. Sage’s room is too many colors to count. For her fourth birthday they put tarps over the carpet and tarps over those tarps and then let Sage pick out all the colors of paint she wanted. They painted the walls white and then let her go wild, using brushes and sponges and her hands, even, to color the walls.

She changes her favorite color once a week, and Ryan’s pretty sure that right now it’s yellow. Already in a nightgown, he puts her in bed and covers her with blankets (the comforter has the bartskull on it; she’s a cool kid, really.) and he sighs, stepping back to watch her sleep.

Brendon comes into the room, nearly silent, and drapes himself over Ryan’s shoulder to look at Sage. They’re silent, just breathing, Brendon’s lips on Ryan’s neck, until Ryan sighs and says, “I would do it again.”

Hiding in the hallway, just beyond the entrance to the bedroom, Spencer sighs silently and smiles sadly. He listens to Ryan and Brendon’s whispered words, and then he turns and walks away.