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Chapter Text

Nick had never been more exhausted in his life.

And that was saying something—he had played semi professional rugby. He had trained through brutal matches, survived tackles that nearly broke him in half, endured insane drills in the pouring rain.

But none of that compared to the pure, soul-crushing task of trying to lead his entire family through Paris.

“Wait, where’s Michael?”

“Tori’s got him,” Charlie said, tugging Nick’s hand to keep him walking.

“Where’s Olly?”

Jane’s voice called from behind. “Right here! Stop panicking, Nicholas.”

Nick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “I’m not panicking, I’m just being responsible.”

Charlie hummed. “Are you, though?”

Nick shot him a look. “Yes.”

Charlie smirked, squeezing his hand. “Darling, one year ago we went to Spain so we could connect with my routes. Now it was time we came here.” He leaned in, voice softening. “But don’t worry. Everything will be fine. It’s just Paris.”

Nick huffed, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. “Yeah, just Paris. The city of my entire childhood summers.”

Charlie gave him a knowing look. “Exactly. You know it better than anyone.”

Nick sighed, but he let himself relax slightly.

They were walking through the 7th arrondissement, not far from the Eiffel Tower, its iron frame rising into the pale morning sky, still slightly misty from the early hours. The streets were alive with the scent of fresh bread and roasting coffee, the faint hum of conversation drifting from open cafés.

And behind them? Absolute chaos.

“Mum!” Olly shrieked suddenly, nearly taking out a pigeon as he ran ahead. “Look, look! A bakery! I need a croissant immediately.”

Jane, ruffling his hair as he grabbed her arm. “Oh, immediately, is it?”

“Immediately,” Olliy confirmed, looking dead serious.

Nick groaned. “God, I should’ve planned a proper itinerary.”

Tori, walking beside him with her arms crossed, arched an eyebrow. “You think you’re in charge here?”

Nick gestured vaguely at the group. “Someone has to be.”

Tori smirked. “Adorable.”

Michael, standing beside her, chuckled. “Mate, just let the city do its thing.”

Nick sighed dramatically, but Charlie laughed, looping their arms together. “He’s right. You’re trying to control Paris, Nick.”

Nick squinted. “I could if I tried.”

Charlie snorted. “Sure, love.”

Despite Nick’s initial stress, the day was beautiful.

They wandered along the Seine, crossing over the Pont Alexandre III, where Tori and Michael stopped to admire the view, and Sarah took a thousand photos of Olliy pretending to be a dignified Parisian artist.

They stopped at Café de Flore, where Sarah and Jane sipped tiny espressos, discussing French architecture, while Nick and Charlie shared a massive plate of pastries, feeding each other bits of pain au chocolat while they remembered the first time they were together in the city almost 7 years ago, on that trip with all their friends.

By the afternoon, they made their way up to Montmartre, the streets humming with music and street artists. Nick pointed out the little hidden gems of his childhood—an old bookshop tucked between flower-laced balconies, a tiny crêperie he used to visit with his dad (the only good memory of that man, honestly).

Charlie, walking beside him, listened carefully, his expression soft, his fingers brushing against Nick’s wrist.

By the time the Eiffel Tower lit up in the evening, casting golden light across the city, they were all happily exhausted.

They sat on the grass in Champ de Mars, bottles of cheap but excellent French wine passed around, the last remnants of their picnic dinner scattered across the blanket.

Nick leaned back on his elbows, watching the lights twinkle against the night sky.

Charlie shifted beside him, sighing deeply. “God. This has been perfect.”

Nick hummed. “Yeah.”

Charlie tilted his head slightly. “Still stressed?”

Nick smirked. “Only a little.”

Charlie nudged him. “Wanna go home soon?”

Nick exhaled, watching the lights shimmer. “I dunno.” He turned his head slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s weird. A year ago, we were on our honeymoon. Now we’re here, with everyone.”

Charlie smiled, leaning his weight into Nick’s side. “Yeah. But it’s still us.”

Nick turned his head fully, his heart stuttering slightly.

Charlie, illuminated in soft golden light, curls slightly messy, eyes warm and unbelievably full of love.

Nick swallowed.

He reached over, lacing their fingers together.

Charlie squeezed back.

Nick smiled. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

Charlie hummed, pressing a slow, warm kiss to Nick’s jaw. “Happy anniversary, love.”

When the sun fully set over Paris, the family returned to their hotel to change for dinner.

Nick adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror, exhaling slowly. The entire day had been perfect—stressful, chaotic, but perfect.

And now?

Now they were apparently going somewhere fancy, which—knowing his mother—could mean anything from a quiet Michelin-starred bistro to a five-hour luxury dining experience that involved way too many courses and way too many French words Charlie would pretend to understand.

Charlie, fixing his curls in the reflection beside him, caught Nick’s expression and smirked. “You’re thinking too hard again.”

Nick sighed. “It’s just—Mum planned a surprise dinner. After she helped us planning our wedding, her planning anything it’s terrifying.”

Charlie laughed, patting his chest. “You’ll survive, love.”

As they stepped outside, the night air was cool and crisp, the streets glowing under the soft wash of streetlamps and the flickering warmth of café lights.

Everyone was dressed impeccably—Sarah in a graceful midnight-blue gown, Jane in elegant gold, Julio in a sharp suit, Olly in a tiny blazer that made him look far too pleased with himself.

The energy was electric, buzzing with excitement.

Nick frowned slightly as they climbed into the waiting cars. “Mum, where are we going?”

Sarah, looking far too smug, simply smiled. “You’ll see.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Mum.”

Sarah patted his knee. “Just trust me, darling.”

Charlie, beside him, hummed in amusement. “This is gonna be something insane, isn’t it?”

Nick groaned. “Oh, absolutely.”

When they pulled up to the base of the Eiffel Tower, Nick’s stomach dropped.

“Wait.” He turned to Sarah, his face frozen in horror. “Mum. What are we doing here?”

Sarah beamed, stepping out of the car. “Well, I thought we could have dinner here.”

Nick blinked rapidly. “As in… in the Eiffel Tower?”

Sarah grinned.

Jane and Julio gasped behind them. “Oh my God, Sarah, you didn’t have to—”

Sarah waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be silly, Jane and Julio. We’re family.” She turned toward the tower entrance, utterly unfazed by the extravagance. “I’m just glad I could do this with you all. Now that David lives in Australia and Nick and Charlie have steady jobs I have too much money that needs to be used. Also, we could celebrate Charlie’s new job as associate Editor, I have heard that not only you have beaten a record becoming the youngest one at Bloomsbury, but you now also have a quite generous paycheck.

Nick stared at her. “Mum. I—what?”

Charlie, beside him, snorted. “You did say she was terrifying.”

Nick groaned.

But—well.

They were already here.

And Nick had to admit—if they were going to have a final dinner in Paris, this was one hell of a way to do it.

The Jules Verne restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower was breathtaking.

The moment they stepped inside, Nick felt the weight of the place—the soft golden lighting, the sleek modern design, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unfiltered, shimmering view of Paris at night.

Elegant servers in black tuxedos glided between tables, carrying crystal glasses of wine, plates of food so beautifully plated they looked like art. The atmosphere was quiet, luxurious, filled with the soft clink of silverware, the murmuring of conversations, the occasional pop of a champagne cork.

Nick let out a slow breath.

Sarah had outdone herself.

The family settled into their table, a long, pristine white-clothed setup near one of the windows. The view stretched out endlessly—Paris glowing beneath them, the Seine weaving through the city like liquid gold.

Charlie, beside him, exhaled in awe. “This is unreal.”

Nick hummed, sipping his wine. “Yeah. It really is.”

Olly, swinging his legs under the table, whispered loudly to Tori, “We are literally eating in the sky.”

Tori smirked. “We are.”

Michael grinned, toasting his glass. “Cheers to the sky.”

The evening unfolded effortlessly, the table filled with wine and laughter, the city twinkling around them.

And just as Nick started to fully relax—

He turned his head slightly.

And froze.

Because there—

Just across the restaurant, seated at a corner table, was a man he hadn’t seen in over a year.

His father.

Stéphane Nelson.

Across the restaurant, every single person at the table had noticed the shift in energy. Their conversation had halted instantly, following Nick’s frozen expression—then turning, one by one, to see what had caused it.

The moment Sarah’s gaze landed on Stéphane, she exhaled sharply.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Charlie’s grip on Nick’s hand tightened. “What are the fucking probabilities?”

Stéphane’s eyes flickered between them, and in a matter of seconds, his expression shifted from surprise to cold calculation.

Then, with no hesitation, he pushed back his chair and walked straight toward them.

Nick’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Stéphane arrived at the table, standing there with his usual perfect posture, his expression carefully neutral—except for the slight curl of his lip as his eyes skated over Charlie like he was nothing.

Then he turned toward Sarah.

“Nick. Sarah.”

His gaze swept over Julio, Jane, and Olly, lingering for just a second before he said—

“So. You’re here.” His tone was light, mocking. “And you didn’t think to call me?”

Nick’s jaw tightened.

He forced his voice to stay steady. “I don’t know why I’d have to.”

Stéphane’s eyes darkened.

For a moment, he just stared at Nick, his jaw tightening, his nostrils flaring slightly—like he was struggling to contain something.

Then, in a voice sharpened to a blade, he said—

“Okay.” His lip curled. “Are you happy now?”

Nick stilled.

Stéphane leaned forward, voice low and venomous. “After a year of destroying your life—are you happy?”

Charlie’s grip turned to steel.

Nick didn’t speak. Didn’t look away.

Stéphane’s voice dropped further, the words hitting like a slow, controlled attack.

“This has all been a mistake.”

Nick’s fingers twitched.

Stéphane’s eyes flashed cold. “You should have ended this outrageous play by now.”

Charlie bristled beside him. “Play?”

Stéphane didn’t even look at him. “Marriage is not a game, Nicholas. And yet—here you are, still pretending.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’ve ruined yourself. And you know it.”

The air in the restaurant felt thick, suffocating.

Nick’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, but—

He didn’t feel small.

Not anymore.

Stéphane’s voice dipped one last time, his control finally slipping.

“You are a fool.”

Nick barely had time to register the words before someone stood up abruptly.

A chair scraped against the floor.

Before Sarah or Charlie could react—

Julio rose to his full height.

Sarah froze, her lips pressed together tightly.

Charlie’s grip on Nick’s hand tightened as if bracing for what was about to happen.

Julio stared Stéphane down, his expression steady, unwavering.

“I think you should get out of here, Stéphane.”

His voice was calm—but it carried an edge, a slow-building storm beneath the surface.

Stéphane’s gaze flickered toward him, and for a second, just a second, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, as if snapping back into control, Stéphane scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Oh, and who’s talking?” He let out a low, mocking chuckle. “You? A pathetic little man playing father?”

Charlie tensed instantly, about to stand, but Julio lifted a single hand—stopping him without even looking.

Stéphane stepped closer, his tone dripping with scorn.

“You think you can replace me?” His eyes narrowed. “You think you can change my son’s mind? That you can fill the space only I am meant to occupy?”

Nick’s breath hitched.

Stéphane’s gaze flickered toward him, then back to Julio. His lip curled.

“You really believe he’ll love you more than me?”

Silence.

Julio’s eyes darkened.

And then—

He laughed.

Soft, disbelieving, but laced with something dangerous.

When he spoke, his voice was sharp, deadly quiet.

“I don’t need to change Nick’s mind.”

Stéphane’s smirk faltered.

Julio took a slow step forward.

“Because you did that all by yourself.”

Stéphane’s expression twitched—just slightly—but Julio had seen it.

And he did not stop.

“You have the audacity to stand here and act like a father?” Julio’s voice rose, his accent thick with emotion. “You? A man who has only ever used his son as a pawn? A man who has never loved him for who he truly is?”

Nick felt something in his chest tighten—pain, recognition, something achingly raw.

Stéphane’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “I—”

But Julio did not let him speak.

“I have seen you for what you really are, Stéphane.” Julio’s voice was cold, sharp as glass. “A man so selfish, so arrogant, so incapable of love, that he would rather lose his son forever than accept him for who he is.”

Stéphane bristled, but Julio cut him off again.

“And let me tell you something, Stéphane Nelson.”

Julio’s hands clenched into fists.

His voice burned.

“The love I have for my son…” He turned slightly, his eyes flickering toward Nick, softening just for a moment. “…is more than you could ever be capable of feeling.”

Nick felt it—the words hitting him, sinking into his bones, into the deepest, most untouched places inside him.

His vision blurred.

Stéphane’s face twisted with rage, and before anyone could react, he spat—

“I am sick of repeating this all over again, this is getting boring, He’s not your son.”

Julio’s head snapped toward him.

His entire presence shifted.

And then, clear and final, he said—

“The fact is, he is my son, since the moment he decided to marry Charlie, maybe even before.”

Nick’s breath hitched sharply.

Stéphane’s nostrils flared. “You—”

Julio stepped closer, eyes flashing.

“And if you ever dare to hurt my son—by words, by action, by any means—”

His voice dropped to something low, lethal.

“I will show you that no amount of money in the world will free you from my rage.”

Silence.

The entire restaurant felt like it was holding its breath.

Stéphane’s jaw tightened, but something shifted in his face.

For the first time—

He looked unsure.

Julio did not move.

Did not blink.

And Stéphane knew.

He had lost.

Finally, Stéphane exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He turned back to Nick, his expression icy but controlled.

One last attempt.

One final pathetic grasp at power.

“…One day,” he murmured, voice steady, “you’ll come back to me, lingering for my forgiveness.” His lips curled. “And when that day comes, I will help you, I will take you under my arms and you will make me proud realizing how to be the man I expected you to grow up to be.”

Nick’s chest ached—but not with pain.

With relief.

Because the words held nothing anymore.

No weight.

No power.

Stéphane looked over the table one last time.

And then—he turned.

And walked away.

The moment the doors closed behind him—

The entire table let out a breath of disbelief.

Then—

Applause.

A full eruption of noise, laughter, relief.

Charlie was the first to react—he grabbed Julio’s shoulders and shook him slightly, his eyes wide with awe.

“Dad,” Charlie breathed, grinning uncontrollably. “What you just did was—”

He threw his hands up. “Outrageous! Spectacular! Incredible!”

Olly looked up at Julio like he was seeing a legend. “Oh my God.”

Jane, still shocked, suddenly turned—grabbed Julio’s face between her hands, and kissed him soundly.

Julio let out a surprised noise before melting into it, kissing her deeply, as if he hadn’t just threatened to destroy a man in the middle of an elite Parisian restaurant.

Tori, still stunned, slowly turned to Sarah.

“Wow.” She gestured vaguely. “Did that just happen?”

Sarah, still nodding approvingly, sipped her wine. “Yes, darling. And it was fabulous.”

Nick couldn’t move.

He was still looking at Julio.

Julio’s face softened, and without hesitation—

He reached out, pulled Nick into a tight, steady hug, hand resting on the back of his head.

Julio’s arms stayed wrapped around him, firm, steady, his hand still resting against the back of Nick’s head, and they just stood there, holding each other in the soft glow of the restaurant, surrounded by family.

Nick’s eyes burned, but he didn’t try to wipe the tears away.

Because for the first time in his life—

He had a father who chose him.

“I’ve always loved happy endings” he hears Charlie say to the rest while hearing the noise of glasses toasting.

Nick hadn’t known he could feel this light.

After the chaos of dinner—after Stéphane walking away, after Julio standing for him, after everything that had just happened—he should have been exhausted. But somehow, as Charlie led him down the steps of the Eiffel Tower, his hand warm in Nick’s, the crisp Parisian air wrapping around them, he felt like he was floating.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the feeling of being completely free for the first time in his life.

Or maybe it was just Charlie.

Charlie, who had grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the table, announcing to everyone that he was stealing his husband for a while. Charlie, who was grinning to himself, clearly up to something. Charlie, who was his, who had been his for years, who would be his for every moment after this.

They walked in comfortable silence, the city stretching around them in golden light, the Seine glittering in the distance, the air filled with the scent of warm bread and something faintly floral from a nearby flower stall. Paris was alive, but in this moment, it felt like it was just for them.

Charlie slowed as they reached a quiet balcony overlooking the city, resting his forearms on the railing, exhaling like he was settling into something. Nick followed his lead, letting himself lean into the space beside him.

For a moment, they just stood there, watching the city.

Then Charlie spoke, his voice quiet.

“You know…” He tilted his head slightly, watching the distant rooftops. “One year ago, we were in our Honeymoon.”

Charlie turned his head, smiling. “Everything’s changed since then.”

Nick smirked. “Yeah.”

Charlie shifted, his fingers trailing lightly over Nick’s wrist, thoughtful. “But you know what hasn’t?”

Nick turned to him fully, something warm unfurling in his chest. “What?”

Charlie met his eyes. “You and me.”

Nick barely had time to register the words before Charlie pulled him in for a kiss, slow and lingering, deep and full, the kind that felt like an ending and a beginning all at once.

And then—Charlie lingered.

His breath warm against Nick’s ear.

And in a voice so soft it barely counted as a whisper, he said—

“I think our life is about to change even more after today.”

Nick froze.

Slowly, he pulled back, blinking. Charlie was still watching him, his expression unreadable, something flickering behind his eyes.

Nick’s stomach flipped.

“…What do you mean?”

Charlie hesitated for only a second before tilting his head slightly, brushing his lips against Nick’s ear again.

“Last week, I got a call from the adoption agency.”

Nick’s breath stopped.

Charlie pulled back just enough to watch his reaction.

Nick just stared at him, his entire body locked in place.

The words didn’t make sense. They should have made sense, but they didn’t. They just hung in the air between them, thick and impossible, like something out of a dream.

Charlie, still holding his wrist, squeezed gently.

“They say they have a kid for us.”

His mind tried to catch up, tried to grasp what was happening, but his body reacted first. His breath hitched violently, his fingers clenched in Charlie’s shirt, and his whole body trembled under the weight of the moment.

Charlie, watching him carefully, squeezed his hand.

“Nick—”

Nick shook his head rapidly, his eyes darting between Charlie’s face and the city around them, like he was trying to ground himself, trying to figure out if this was real.

They had talked about this.

Of course they had talked about this.

Three months ago, they had started reaching out to adoption agencies. It had been a decision they had made together, a decision that had felt so right, even if people had told them they were young.

They hadn’t cared.

They had known they were ready.

Because it wasn’t just some impulse. It wasn’t something they had done because of pressure or expectation or a checklist of milestones. It was something that had come from love.

Charlie had been the first to bring it up, lying in bed one night, tracing soft circles on Nick’s bare chest.

“Do you ever think about it?” he had whispered.

Nick had hummed, already half-asleep. “About what?”

Charlie had smiled, nervous but excited. “Being dads, you know, the other day I was watching this cute video of a toddler sleeping that your mum shared with me, and it just felt…right.”

Nick’s eyes had snapped open, and he had blinked down at him. “…Really?”

Charlie had bit his lip, but nodded.

And that had been the moment.

The moment they had both realized they were thinking about the same future. The moment they had talked for hours, about what it would mean, about whether they were really ready, about how they wanted to do this together.

And now—

Now it wasn’t just a dream.

It was happening.

Nick’s voice came out broken and trembling. “Am I—” His throat closed, his body shaking. “Charlie—am I going to be a father?”

Charlie’s face softened completely, his entire expression filled with something so full of love Nick thought he might actually burst apart.

He squeezed Nick’s wrist.

“We’re going to be dads, yeah.”

Nick’s entire body collapsed into itself.

A strangled noise ripped out of him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and before Charlie could say another word—

Nick screamed.

“I'm going to be a father!”

Charlie barely had time to laugh before Nick grabbed him, crushing him against his chest, lifting him off the ground like he didn’t weigh anything.

Nick spun them around, nearly tripping over himself, but he didn’t care, because his entire heart was too big for his body, too full of love and disbelief and absolute overwhelming joy.

“ I’m going to be a father!.”

His voice echoed into the Parisian night, bouncing off the buildings, mixing with the hum of the city below.

Charlie, giggling breathlessly, pressed his forehead against Nick’s. “You are.”

Nick’s hands were shaking, his heart slamming against his ribs, his entire existence shifting.

He had spent so long untangling himself from Stéphane’s shadow, so long wondering what kind of man he wanted to be. And now, in this moment, he knew.

He was going to be the kind of father Julio had been to him.

Not perfect, not flawless, not all-knowing.

But present.

Loving.

Someone who chose their child every single day.

Nick set Charlie down, gripping his face in both hands, kissing him so deeply that Charlie gasped into it.

Then—he pulled back, breathless, his hands still trembling.

“What—” His voice shook. “What do we know about them? About our baby?”

Charlie smiled, steadying him. “They’re a baby boy. Just turned one.”

Nick let out a broken breath.

“A boy,” he whispered.

Charlie nodded. “A boy.”

Nick exhaled, voice barely there. “Our son…tell me more.”

Charlie’s lips twitched slightly, like he’d been waiting for Nick to ask that.

“Well,” he said, leaning into Nick’s space, “I only know what they told me over the phone, but…” He exhaled, his smile growing. “Apparently He has the softest brown curls, chubby cheeks, and the biggest, most curious eyes. They said he’s really smart—for a one-year-old, obviously—but he’s very aware of everything around him. He loves looking at books, even though he can’t read yet, just flipping through pages like he’s studying the pictures. They said he has the cutest little tantrums when he’s overtired, but that he loves to be cuddled when he’s sleepy.”

Nick felt his heart ache.

Charlie kept going. “His favorite book right now is Dear Zoo. Apparently, he makes this little excited noise every time they get to the monkey page.”

Nick whined. “Charlie—”

Charlie laughed, squeezing his hands. “He’s got a huge love for music. If you put on anything with a beat, he starts bouncing like he’s trying to dance.”

Nick’s chest ached in the best way. “He dances?”

Charlie nodded. “And apparently, if he really likes a song, he makes this little happy humming noise while he listens.”

Nick covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

Charlie giggled.

Nick looked at him desperately. “What else? Tell me everything.”

Charlie bit his lip, thinking. “He loves bananas, but he hates carrots.”

Nick gasped dramatically. “Oh no.”

Charlie grinned. “I know. It’s tragic.”

Nick groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Okay, we can work on that.”

Charlie snorted, then continued. “He’s very attached to this little stuffed fox he’s had since he was born. He refuses to sleep without it. If he can’t find it, apparently he will not go to bed.”

Nick let out a broken laugh, pressing a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Charlie laughed too, nodding.

Nick felt everything hit him at once—the image of this tiny, curly-haired baby, gripping his stuffed fox, bouncing to music, already looking at the world with curiosity and wonder.

He was already in love.

“What’s his name?” Nick asked, desperate to know every single thing about him.

Charlie hesitated for just a second.

Then—his lips curled into something soft and knowing.

“Nicolás.”

Nick froze.

His breath stopped completely.

He pulled back slightly, blinking rapidly, his brain short-circuiting.

“…Like me?”

Charlie’s lips twitched.

“Well, actually, no,” he said, voice gentle, amused. “Not like you.”

Nick squinted. “What?”

Charlie bit his lip, watching him closely. “He doesn’t have an H. It is Nicolás, not Nicholas”

Nick blinked. “What?”

Charlie squeezed his fingers. “His birth mother was from Spain, he is half Spanish, just like me.”

Nick’s world tipped sideways.

His eyes widened as the realization sank in.

“Charlie,” he whispered. His chest ached in a way that felt too big, too impossible. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking as he reached up, gripping Charlie’s face.

His voice was barely there.

“Charlie, that baby…” He swallowed hard, eyes burning. “It’s fate. It’s destiny.”

Charlie smiled, eyes shining with something unreadable.

“I know. Spanish like me, name like yours, although they told me they have given him the nickname “Colin” but I think it is cute”

Nick exhaled sharply, his whole body trembling as he pulled Charlie into another kiss, something slow and deep and life-changing, something that felt like it was stitched into the universe itself.

It was ridiculous, maybe. He hadn’t even seen a picture of the baby yet, hadn’t heard his voice, hadn’t touched his tiny hands. But with every word Charlie spoke—every tiny detail about his little curls, his chubby cheeks, his love for music, his stuffed fox—Nick fell deeper and deeper.

This was his son.

And then, suddenly, a thought hit him like a train.

His throat tightened. “Charlie…”

Charlie hummed, tilting his head slightly.

Nick hesitated, his stomach twisting. “What… What happened? Why is he—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Charlie’s face softened. “Why is he up for adoption?”

Nick nodded, his chest feeling too tight.

Charlie exhaled. “His birth mother was from Spain, but she moved to the UK for university. She met his father here.” He hesitated. “It… wasn’t a good situation.”

Nick swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

Charlie’s voice was careful now. “It started out okay, but then she got pregnant. And when she had him, she realized she didn’t have support. She was alone. His father… He left before Nicolás, sorry, Colin, was even born.”

Nick felt something burn in his chest.

Charlie kept going, voice quieter. “She tried to raise him on her own for a while. But she was struggling. No money, no family nearby, trying to study and work while taking care of a baby by herself.” He exhaled. “Eventually, she made the decision to put him up for adoption.”

Nick felt something ache deep inside him.

This tiny baby—this little boy who loved books and music and cuddling his stuffed fox—he had already lost so much. A mother who had wanted to take care of him, but couldn’t. A father who had never even tried.

Nick felt it.

Felt it so deeply that it physically hurt.

He knew what it was like to feel unwanted. To feel like your father never really chose you.

And this baby—this tiny little boy—was never going to feel that way again.

Because Nick was going to love him more than anything in this world.

Nick inhaled sharply, gripping Charlie’s face with both hands, his eyes blazing.

“I swear to you, Charlie,” he whispered, voice thick, “I am going to love that baby so much. I am never—never—going to let anything happen to him.”

Charlie’s eyes shone with something unreadable, something so full and overwhelming that he looked like he might burst apart.

“I know,” Charlie whispered back.

Nick swallowed hard, voice trembling. “When?”

Charlie frowned slightly. “When what?”

Nick exhaled, frantic now. “When do we get to meet him? When—when can we—when do we—”

Charlie smiled softly, pressing their foreheads together. “In two days.”

Nick froze. “What?”

Charlie’s smile widened. “Two days after we get back to the UK, we go meet him.”

Nick’s entire body trembled.

Charlie brushed his fingers over Nick’s cheek. “And if we like him, which I’m sure we will—”

Nick laughed wetly. “Of course we’ll like him.”

Charlie grinned. “Then we start the paperwork.”

Nick’s breath hitched. “And then?”

Charlie’s voice was warm, steady. “Then we have a month. A month to prepare. A month until our little bundle of joy arrives at our home to shake up our lives forever.”

Nick let out a shaky breath, eyes wide, chest rising and falling too fast.

“A month,” he whispered.

Charlie nodded.

Nick laughed, pressing a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God.”

Charlie laughed too, nodding again. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to love him so much,” he whispered.

Charlie kissed his temple. “I know.”

They stood there, wrapped around each other, the Eiffel Tower glowing behind them, the city stretching around them, and the entire world spinning beneath their feet.

Nick exhaled, smiling so hard it hurt.

And with everything in him, he knew—

This was it.

This was why he wanted to keep waking up every single morning for the rest of eternity.

Chapter Text

Paris smelled different at night. The warm scent of baked bread still lingered from the boulangeries, but now it mixed with the faint sharpness of cigarette smoke, the damp stone of the Seine, the faint perfume of flowers from vendors closing up their carts. Everything was softer, quieter—except for the rush of thoughts in Nick’s head, the heartbeat of the city mirroring the rhythm pounding in his chest.

Charlie walked beside him, their hands interlocked, and Nick hadn’t let go since they’d left the restaurant. He couldn’t.

Not after what Charlie had just said.

A baby. A son.

Colin.

Nick had replayed the words in his head a hundred times already, but they still hit him like a punch to the ribs. And the craziest part? He wasn’t panicking. Not in the way he thought he would.

He was stunned. Excited. A little terrified. But overwhelmingly—he was ready.

Charlie glanced at him, brows knitting slightly in concern. “You’re being really quiet, I hope you are not having second thoughts” he murmured.

Nick exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just… taking it in. Trying to process the fact that we might actually be dads.” He paused, squeezing Charlie’s hand. “I mean, fucking hell, Charlie. We’re twenty-four and twenty-three. Shouldn’t we still be figuring out how to pay council tax?”

Charlie chuckled, bumping their shoulders together. “We do pay council tax.”

Nick groaned. “Exactly. We’re still new to it! We’re still barely adults. And now we might be parents?”

Charlie hummed, tilting his head. “We’re doing it a bit backwards, I guess , but considering we have been acting like an old married couple since sixteen, I think we are good.”

Nick let out a breath, looking up at the sky as they turned a corner. The Eiffel Tower rose ahead, glowing against the night, casting long golden reflections onto the Seine. His stomach twisted, but not in a bad way.

Charlie followed his gaze, and something shifted in his face. “They’re probably already waiting for us,” he said softly.

Nick’s grip tightened on his hand.

Their family. His mum. Julio. Jane. Their siblings. All of them down there, by the river, waiting for them to reappear after their “romantic walk.”

Waiting.

They didn’t know yet.

Nick slowed his pace, and Charlie did too, instinctively, eyes flicking toward him. Nick hesitated, then looked back at Charlie, biting his lip. “Should we tell them?”

Charlie inhaled, looking toward the tower, spotting the distant silhouettes of their family. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Nick’s heart pounded. “I mean, they’ll find out eventually,” he said, voice half-rushed. “We’ll have to tell them. And we’re here, in Paris, with them. It’d be kind of poetic, right? I mean, telling them in front of the Eiffel Tower? Classic.”

Charlie let out a small laugh. “Nick.”

Nick turned fully toward him, eyes wide. “No, seriously! It’s a good setting. Grand, dramatic. My mum would cry, your mum would cry, Julio would definitely hug me and call me ‘son’ again and I would probably cry, but in a manly adult way—”

Charlie snorted. “Manly crying?”

Nick waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Charlie bit his lip, still watching their family in the distance. “You really want to tell them now?”

Nick hesitated.

Charlie turned back to him, eyes softer. “Because if you do, I will. But… we don’t even know if it’s happening for sure yet.”

Nick exhaled, rubbing his thumb over Charlie’s knuckles. “I know. I just… I want them to know. That’s all.”

Charlie studied him for a long moment, then smiled, slow and warm. “They will,” he said. “Just… not yet.”

Nick nodded. “Not yet,” he repeated. Then, impulsively, he pulled Charlie in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

When they finally broke apart, the Eiffel Tower still shimmered ahead of them, the weight of what they were about to do pressing down—not suffocating, but grounding.

Their future was waiting.

Two Days Later – London

“Jesus Christ, Charlie, where’s my other shoe?”

Charlie stood in the doorway of their bedroom, arms crossed, watching in poorly concealed amusement as Nick rummaged through the apartment like a man possessed.

“You own five pairs of trainers,” Charlie pointed out.

“Yes,” Nick huffed, “but I need the right trainers.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “For a meeting at an adoption agency?”

Nick froze mid-search, one socked foot on the coffee table, the other halfway into his shoe. “Oh, fuck. Should I wear something nicer?”

Charlie sighed, walking over and gently placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick. It’s fine. Just breathe.”

Nick exhaled sharply. “I am breathing.”

Charlie smiled. “Barely.”

Nick groaned and flopped onto the couch, dragging a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. I’m freaking out. Just a little.”

Charlie sat beside him, nudging his knee against Nick’s. “A little?”

Nick peeked through his fingers. “A medium amount?”

Charlie chuckled, resting a hand on Nick’s thigh. “Nick, you know this isn’t an exam, right?”

Nick grunted. “It feels like an exam. A life exam. If I fail, I don’t get a baby.”

Charlie gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “We are not going to fail.”

Nick groaned again, letting his head fall back against the couch. “What if they don’t like us?”

“They’ll like us.”

“What if they think we are too immature?”

Charlie snorted. “Nick. I color-code our grocery list.”

Nick peeked at him again. “That’s just cause  you are a very practical man.”

“And we have a whole spreadsheet for our finances.”

Nick grumbled, crossing his arms. “Okay, yeah, but—”

“And you once researched eight different pediatricians just in case we ever had kids years ago, for fun.”

Nick squinted at him. “That’s just normal planning.”

Charlie grinned. “You’re going to be fine.”

Nick inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do this.” He stood up, shaking out his limbs like he was about to run onto a rugby pitch.

Charlie stood too, adjusting his jumper. “Ready?”

Nick paused, glancing around the flat. “Wait, I need my—”

Charlie grabbed Nick’s coat and shoved it into his arms before he could finish. “Now you’re ready.”

Nick huffed a laugh, slinging the coat on as they walked toward the door. He hesitated one more time, looking at Charlie. “You’re sure I don’t need to wear something nicer?”

Charlie rolled his eyes but smiled. “Nick.”

“Right, right,” Nick muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I just really want them to like me.”

Charlie stopped, turning to him fully. “Nick.”

Nick blinked.

Charlie took his hands, squeezing gently. “They will like you.” He smiled. “And if they don’t? We’ll just bribe them with baked goods.”

Nick let out a startled laugh. “Oh my God, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned. “You’re the one who stress-bakes. You should’ve made something.”

Nick groaned as they stepped outside. “Damn it, why didn’t I think of that?”

Charlie laughed, slipping his hand into Nick’s as they walked toward the car.

Nick was still nervous. Still buzzing with adrenaline. But with Charlie’s fingers intertwined with his, somehow, it all felt a little easier.

The adoption agency was a plain brick building, sandwiched between a dentist’s office and a café that smelled like it had been burning the same batch of coffee beans since 2002. If Nick hadn’t been obsessively Google Maps-ing it for the past two days, he would’ve walked right past it.

Instead, he was standing outside, staring at the door like it might come alive and attack him.

Charlie nudged him. “Are we going in, or are we waiting for divine intervention?”

Nick exhaled sharply, adjusting the sleeves of his jumper. “We could wait a bit. You know, take in the atmosphere.”

Charlie glanced at the gray sky, the questionable puddle near the curb, and the dull office windows above them. “The atmosphere of… bureaucracy?”

Nick groaned. “I just—what if I say something stupid?”

Charlie smirked. “You already said something stupid when we confirmed the appointment.”

Nick scowled. “I did not.”

Charlie’s smirk widened. “Nick. You told the woman on the phone, ‘Hi, we’re calling because we want a baby. To keep.’”

Nick groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I did say that.”

Charlie patted his back, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on, husband of mine. Time to go prove we’re responsible adults.”

Nick reluctantly let Charlie tug him inside.

The reception area was warm, decorated in beige tones with a few colorful children’s drawings pinned to a corkboard. A stack of children’s books sat on a table, next to a box of mismatched crayons.

The receptionist, a woman in her fifties with square glasses and a name tag that read Barbara, looked up from her computer. “Good afternoon. Do you have an appointment?”

Nick nodded. “Yes. We’re here for—” He caught himself just in time. “A consultation.”

Charlie’s shoulders shook slightly in silent laughter.

Barbara typed something, then smiled. “Ah, yes. Nicholas and Charles Nelson-Spring?”

Charlie nodded. “That’s us.”

“You’re a bit early, but Kate Davies should be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

Nick and Charlie sat on the small couch near the children’s books.

Nick tapped his knee anxiously. “Okay. We can do this.”

Charlie hummed. “Sure. But maybe don’t open with ‘We’re here for a baby to keep’ again.”

Nick groaned and shoved his face into Charlie’s shoulder.

Before Charlie could tease him further, a door opened, and a woman in her early fifties stepped out. She had sharp brown eyes, shoulder-length dark hair with streaks of gray, and the kind of cardigan that suggested she had a hidden stash of biscuits somewhere in her office.

She smiled. “Nick and Charlie?”

They both stood. Nick wiped his hand on his jeans before shaking hers. “Yes, that’s us.”

“Kate Davies,” she introduced. “Come on in.”

Her office was cozy, with framed quotes on the walls and a well-worn couch across from her desk.

Kate sat, flipping open a file. “So. I understand you were contacted about a potential placement?”

Nick’s heart did a weird, nervous flip. “Yes. A little boy named Nicolás—Colin.”

Kate nodded. “Colin is just over a year old. He’s been in foster care since birth, and we’ve been looking for a permanent placement.” She glanced up. “This is an early-stage consultation, so there’s still a process—assessments, home visits, matching—but we want to get a better idea of whether you’d be a good fit.”

Charlie nodded. “Of course.”

Kate glanced at their file. “Let’s start with some basics. You two are twenty-three and twenty-four?”

Nick shifted. “Yes.”

Kate tapped her pen. “You’re quite young.”

Nick had expected this. “We know.”

Charlie, ever the calm one, spoke up. “Nick is a secondary school teacher, and I work in publishing. We both have stable jobs, and I was recently promoted.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Publishing?”

Charlie nodded. “I work at Bloomsbury. My new salary is—” He told her, and even though Nick knew the number, it still made him blink.

Kate’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s impressive for someone who graduated only two years ago.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work hard.”

Nick, proud and hopelessly in love, added, “He’s a genius.”

Charlie rolled his eyes fondly.

Kate smiled, writing something down. “And you’ve been married for a year?”

Nick grinned. “Yep. One year of wedded bliss.”

Charlie snorted. “One year of you leaving your socks on the kitchen counter.”

Nick pointed. “That happened once.”

Kate bit back a smile. “So you’ve been together for…?”

“Eight years,” Nick said. “Married for one.”

Kate hummed. “That’s a long time.”

Charlie nodded. “We’re disgustingly in love.”

Nick squeezed his hand. “Completely.”

Kate chuckled, flipping the page in the file. “Now. I see here that Charlie has a history of OCD and anorexia.”

Charlie inhaled sharply. Nick instinctively moved closer.

Kate’s voice was gentle. “Charlie, I just need to ask—how are you managing your health?”

Charlie nodded, his voice steady. “I’ve been in recovery for years. My OCD is something I manage daily, but it doesn’t control my life. And Nick…” He glanced at Nick, lips twitching slightly. “Nick is very… involved.”

Nick lifted his chin. “I look after him.”

Kate studied him. “Nick, do you feel prepared to handle both Charlie’s well-being and the demands of a child?”

Nick barely hesitated. “Yes.”

Kate’s gaze sharpened. “You say that very easily.”

Nick straightened. “Because it’s true.”

Kate leaned forward slightly. “Nick, parenting is demanding. What happens if Charlie has a difficult period? Can you handle that and a baby?”

Nick blinked. “Yes.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You seem very sure.”

Nick sat up straighter, suddenly feeling like he was being tested. “Of course I am. I’ve known Charlie since we were sixteen. I’ve seen him at his lowest, and I know what he needs. And taking care of him—it’s not a burden. It’s just… what my heart feels is the reason I was brought into the world.”

Charlie swallowed, squeezing Nick’s hand tightly.

Nick wasn’t done. “And that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to take care of Colin. I will. Because I want to. I want both of them. My husband and my son, I want to dedicate my life to them.”

Kate’s eyes softened. “That’s a very chivalrous answer, Nick.”

Nick huffed. “It’s not chivalry. It’s love.”

Kate smiled. “That’s even better.”

Nick exhaled, slightly out of breath.

Charlie turned to him, eyes shining.

Kate flipped to another section of the file and tapped her pen against it, glancing between them. “Alright, let’s talk about support systems.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged a look.

Charlie, ever composed, responded first. “We have a very involved family. Nick’s mum, Sarah, is basically an angel disguised as a woman. My dad, Julio, is the most agreeable person I know. And my mum—well, she has come a long way.”

Kate chuckled, making a note. “And what about friends?”

Charlie smiled. “We have a close-knit group. Most of them are either in stable relationships or wildly chaotic, so we get the best of both worlds.”

Nick grinned. “Elle and Tao will be the cool aunt and uncle. Isaac will be compiling baby book recommendations once we give them the news. And Darcy—”

Charlie cut in. “Darcy is legally not allowed to babysit alone.”

Kate raised an eyebrow.

Nick coughed. “Long story involving fireworks, a lost parrot, and a trampoline.”

Kate stared at them for a beat before shaking her head fondly. “Alright. Next question—conflict resolution. How do you handle disagreements?”

Charlie turned to Nick. “Well, I try to be rational, and Nick—”

Nick scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m so rational.”

Charlie gave him a Look. “Nick, last week you stormed out of the flat because I said instant coffee is fine sometimes.”

Nick crossed his arms. “It’s about principles, Charlie.”

Kate pressed her lips together, visibly holding back a laugh. “I see.”

Charlie smiled sweetly. “To answer your question—yes, we argue, but we communicate. And we never let things fester. We’ve been together a long time. We know how to work through things.”

Kate nodded approvingly. “That’s important. And what about discipline? If Colin misbehaves, how do you plan to handle it?”

Nick went pale. “Misbehave? But he’s a baby!”

Charlie patted his knee. “Eventually, he’ll be a toddler. Toddlers do things like throw food and say no a lot.”

Nick looked horrified. “Oh God. What if he throws food I cooked?”

Charlie deadpanned, “Then we’ll know he has good taste.”

Nick gasped.

Kate lost the battle with her laughter, shaking her head. “You two are going to be interesting parents.”

Nick grinned. “Is that a compliment?”

Kate smirked. “Depends on how much chaos I think you can handle.” She checked her notes. “But speaking of that—one last big question. Parenting is unpredictable. Life throws challenges your way. How do you handle change?”

Nick inhaled deeply. “Honestly? We handle change by handling it together.”

Charlie smiled at him.

Nick turned back to Kate. “We’ve been through long-distance, university stress, jobs, everything. And we’ve come out stronger. I think that’s what makes us ready for this. We’re a team.”

Charlie squeezed his hand. “And we’re ready for our team to be three.”

Kate sat back, watching them thoughtfully. The room felt still for a moment, like something important was shifting into place.

Then, slowly, she smiled. “I believe you.”

Nick exhaled, shoulders relaxing.

Kate closed the file. “Well. You two meet the basic requirements. Your finances, your support system, your relationship—it all checks out. Which I must say is impressive, we have very few cases of couples your age wanting to adopt, even less passing this first filters”

Nick felt his heartbeat accelerate.

Kate leaned forward slightly. “Which means… if you want to take the next step, you can meet Colin.”

Nick forgot how to breathe.

Charlie sat up straighter. “Wait—you mean today?”

Kate nodded. “Yes. We don’t like to delay introductions. If you meet him and feel a connection, we can move to signing paperwork. And in a month… he’ll be with you at home.”

Nick let out an undignified squeak.

Charlie grabbed Nick’s arm, eyes wide. “Nick?”

Nick’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Then, finally—

“Oh my God.”

Kate smiled. “So. Would you like to meet your son?”

Nick turned to Charlie, his hands gripping his arms. “Charlie. We’re gonna meet him.”

Charlie, for all his usual composure, looked just as overwhelmed. “Yeah. We are.”

Nick inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Then nodded. “Yes. Yes, we’d love to.”

Kate stood. “Alright. Let’s go introduce you.”

Nick swallowed hard, his heart hammering.

He was about to meet his son.

Nick stood frozen, gripping Charlie’s wrist so tightly that Charlie had to gently pry his fingers off.

“Nick, breathe,” Charlie whispered.

Nick made a small, strangled noise in response.

Kate, standing beside them, gave them an amused glance. “You can take a look before you go in.” She gestured toward the gap in the door.

Charlie swallowed hard, nodding. Then, slowly, he peeked inside.

And there he was.

Colin.

The little boy sat on a soft play mat, dressed in tiny denim overalls and a white long-sleeve shirt, his little socks a mismatched blue and green. His dark curls were slightly messy, sticking up in places, and he was completely focused on the stuffed fox in his lap, gripping it tightly with both hands as if it were his most treasured possession.

Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.

Nick, behind him, finally worked up the courage to look—and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from making a sound. His eyes were huge, his entire body tensed like he’d been electrocuted.

Charlie, meanwhile, felt something inside him unravel.

He knew it was irrational, but the moment he saw Colin, something clicked so violently into place that it was almost painful. His vision blurred, his breath shuddered, and suddenly, he was holding onto the doorframe like he might collapse.

He was so tiny. So perfect.

His son.

Nick, of course, was having a completely different reaction.

Charlie turned to look at him, only to find Nick gripping the wall, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. His eyes darted from Colin to Charlie, back to Colin, and then back to Charlie.

Charlie wiped at his eyes. “Nick?”

Nick leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “Charlie. He’s so small.”

Charlie nodded, sniffling.

Nick’s hands flailed slightly. “Charlie. He’s, like… baby-sized.”

Charlie let out a watery laugh. “That’s usually how it works.”

Nick looked borderline panicked. “But, like, really small. Like, what if I pick him up and he—he just—crumbles?”

Charlie gave him a teary-eyed smile. “I don’t think babies crumble.”

Nick pointed aggressively. “That one might. Look at him. He’s all squishy and fragile.”

Charlie turned back toward the room, his breath catching all over again.

Colin was still playing with the stuffed fox, pressing his tiny fingers into the soft fabric, completely unaware of the life-changing moment happening just outside the door.

Nick let out a shaky laugh. “Oh my God, Charlie. He’s perfect.”

Charlie nodded rapidly, swiping at his cheeks. “Yeah. He is.”

Kate smiled at them. “Would you like to go in?”

Nick inhaled sharply. “Are we allowed?”

Kate chuckled. “Yes, Nick. You’re allowed.”

Nick exhaled. “Okay. Alright. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Charlie took a deep breath, then stepped forward.

Colin didn’t look up immediately as they entered the room. He was still engrossed in his stuffed fox, babbling softly to himself, completely unaware of the two men standing nervously a few feet away.

Nick nudged Charlie. “What do we do?”

Charlie whispered back, “We wait.”

Nick nodded. Then, after a beat—“For how long? Like, is there a script? A baby protocol?”

Charlie gave him a look.

Nick cleared his throat. “Right. Okay. Casual. I can do casual.”

Kate, watching with obvious amusement, finally cleared her throat. “Colin,” she called gently.

The little boy froze mid-babble. Then, slowly, he turned his head, clearly recognizing his name despite being 1 year old.

Nick immediately forgot how to exist.

Because Colin looked at them—really looked at them—with big, dark, curious eyes. He blinked a few times, his grip still firm on the fox, and for a moment, he simply studied them, as if trying to determine whether they were interesting enough to be worth his time.

Nick, who had spent months imagining this moment, completely panicked.

His brain supplied literally nothing useful. Not a single thing.

So, of course, he did what any responsible adult would do—he waved.

Charlie groaned internally.

Colin, still staring, considered the wave for a moment. Then, slowly, very seriously, he lifted his own tiny hand… and waved back.

Nick made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Charlie felt his chest ache with emotion.

Colin blinked at them again, then, seemingly deciding that they were at least mildly interesting, held up his stuffed fox toward them.

Nick inhaled sharply. “Charlie. He’s sharing.”

Charlie’s throat tightened. “Yeah. He is.”

Kate, standing nearby, smiled softly. “That’s a good sign.”

Nick turned to Charlie, eyes impossibly bright. “I love him.”

Charlie let out a tearful laugh. “Nick, you’ve known him for thirty seconds.”

Nick whispered, deadly serious, “That’s all I needed.”

Charlie’s heart squeezed.

Kate knelt down slightly. “Colin, would you like to meet Charlie and Nick properly?”

Colin, still gripping his fox, studied them again. Then, finally, he reached his arms up toward Charlie.

Charlie forgot how to breathe.

Kate smiled. “That’s a yes.”

Charlie hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his hands slightly unsteady as he carefully picked Colin up.

Colin settled easily against him, small and warm and real, and then—

He giggled.

Charlie felt something inside him shatter, he had never heard a more beautiful sound than that.

Nick actually gasped out loud. “Charlie. He laughed.”

Charlie nodded, unable to speak, his eyes stinging so badly he could barely see.

Colin, seemingly pleased with himself, reached up with one small hand—

And tugged on Nick’s hair.

Nick froze.

Colin examined the strands, wide-eyed, before making a pleased little noise and patting Nick’s face like he had just decided this one is acceptable.

Nick looked at Charlie, his face a perfect picture of overwhelmed joy. “Charlie. He likes my hair.”

Charlie sniffled. “Yeah.

Charlie held Colin like he had always known how. Like his body had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

And Colin—sweet, tiny, perfect Colin—just melted into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nick, standing beside them, felt something inside him rupture.

Because Charlie—his Charlie—was good at this. He was so good at this.

Charlie swayed slightly, his arms wrapped securely around Colin, his fingers tracing soothing patterns against the tiny back. He murmured something soft, something gentle, and Colin let out the sleepiest little sigh against his chest, like he had never felt safer.

Nick, still recovering from the emotional whiplash of the last five minutes, clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh. Oh no.”

Charlie blinked at him. “What?”

Nick’s hands flailed. “You’re so good at this.”

Charlie frowned. “Nick, he’s a baby. I just picked him up.”

Nick pointed aggressively. “No. You fathered him.”

Charlie snorted. “I picked him up.”

Nick shook his head, practically vibrating with feeling. “Charlie, you claimed him. You’re literally made for this. You’re—oh my God, you’re glowing. You’re literally glowing. Is that a dad thing? Is that your dad thing? Do I get a dad thing? Is my dad thing crying all the time?”

Charlie laughed wetly. “I think your dad thing is panicking over normal baby stuff.”

Nick inhaled sharply. “Oh my God. That makes so much sense.”

Kate, watching all of this unfold with a knowing smirk, cleared her throat. “You two are adorable.”

Nick barely registered the words because his entire world had narrowed down to Charlie, holding Colin, looking like the most effortlessly wonderful dad in the entire universe.

Nick felt his knees wobble. “Oh no.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Now what?”

Nick clutched his chest again. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. “I hope so. You’ve been in love with me for, like, for more than eight years.”

Nick shook his head aggressively. “No, you don’t understand. I’m in new love with you. Like, a different kind. A dad love. A you’re-the-father-of-my-child love.”

Charlie’s mouth twitched. “You mean… like the love you already had for me?”

Nick grabbed him by the shoulders (carefully, because baby). “No, Charlie, you don’t get it. This is worse. So much worse.”

Charlie, despite himself, smiled. “Oh no. However will we survive?”

Nick ignored him, turning his attention back to the tiny, sleepy creature nestled in Charlie’s arms. He studied Colin intensely, his eyes impossibly soft.

Colin, who had been happily dozing against Charlie’s chest, shifted slightly and let out a tiny, tiny hiccup.

Nick lost all motor function.

Charlie smirked. “You okay over there?”

Nick, voice hoarse, whispered, “Charlie, he hiccuped.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Babies do that.”

Nick swallowed hard. “No, but he baby hiccuped. You don’t understand. He squeaked. He made a noise, and it was—” He placed a hand on his chest, looking winded. “—it was devastating.”

Charlie bit back a laugh. “Nick.”

Nick turned, wild-eyed. “Charlie, he’s too cute. He’s dangerous.” He gestured helplessly at Colin. “I am going to die.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, still swaying gently with Colin in his arms. “You’re going to be fine.”

Nick pointed dramatically. “Am I? Because I think I just imprinted on him like a baby duck. He is mine now. Mine. If anyone even thinks about looking at him wrong—” Nick clenched his fists, his voice dropping into something borderline terrifying—“I will end them.”

Charlie blinked. “Jesus.”

Kate grinned. “That’s the protective dad switch, right on schedule.”

Nick turned to Charlie, deadly serious. “Charlie, we have to protect him. He is too small for this world. He’s delicate. He’s—”

Colin shifted slightly in Charlie’s arms, and without thinking, Charlie adjusted his hold, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Colin’s curls. The movement was so effortless, so instinctual, that it nearly knocked the breath out of Nick’s lungs.

Nick grabbed the wall. “Oh, God. You’re such a dad.”

Charlie gave him a teasing look. “And you’re such a mess.” He answered while rocking Coling for a couple more of minutes 

However, The moment Colin let out his first tiny, pitiful whimper, Nick’s entire body went rigid.

Charlie, instinctively, shifted Colin in his arms, gently bouncing him. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Colin sniffled, his big dark eyes suddenly shining with the threat of actual tears.

Nick gripped the back of Charlie’s shirt so hard his knuckles turned white. “Fix it.”

Charlie blinked. “I—what?”

Nick’s breathing had gone shallow. His eyes locked onto Colin’s trembling lip with pure, undiluted horror. “Fix it, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed, bouncing Colin a little more. “Babies cry, Nick—”

“Not our baby.” Nick’s voice was an octave higher than normal, wild with distress. “Charlie, he’s sad. That’s not allowed.”

Charlie bit back a laugh. “I don’t think we can just—”

Nick turned to Kate, pleading. “Is there a rule against this? A baby law? Can I file a formal complaint?”

Kate snorted. “Nick—”

“I need regulations, Kate. Where are the regulations?”

Kate, amused but unhelpful, simply nodded toward Colin.

Nick huffed, then spun back toward Charlie. His hands flailed in agitation. “You have to make it stop, god, I have to make it stop.”

“I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder.”

Charlie tried. He rocked Colin, hummed softly, whispered sweet things—but the little boy still let out another quiet, hiccupy sniffle, his tiny hands bunching into fists against Charlie’s chest.

Nick lost it.

“That’s it,” he declared, whirling toward the door. “I’m fighting God.”

Charlie cackled. “Nick—”

“This baby is never shedding another tear of sadness while I’m alive. Never.”

Charlie adjusted Colin again. “And how do you plan to enforce that, exactly?”

Nick turned back, eyes ablaze with paternal ferocity. “I will create an entire government infrastructure to ensure my son never experiences distress.”

Kate folded her arms. “That seems… excessive.”

Nick ignored her. “I need answers.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair, then froze. “Wait. What if it’s his clothes? What if he’s—he’s chafing?”

Charlie, barely containing his amusement, checked Colin’s outfit. “He’s fine, Nick.”

Nick pointed aggressively. “No, he’s not, because he cried, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed. “Babies do that.”

“Ours doesn’t!”

Charlie bit his lip, adjusting Colin so he could get a better look at his tiny, tearful face. “Alright, love, tell me what’s—” He paused, squinting. “Wait a second.”

Colin sniffled again.

Nick’s breath caught. “Charlie?”

Charlie tilted Colin slightly, then let out a soft laugh.

Nick grabbed his arm. “What? What is it?”

Charlie turned Colin just enough for Nick to see—

And there, in his tiny balled-up fist, was one of Charlie’s shirt buttons.

Nick’s soul left his body.

“Did he—”

Charlie sighed. “Yeah. He ripped it off.”

Nick staggered backward. “He attacked you.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Nick, he’s a baby—”

Nick pointed, his expression one of utter betrayal. “That baby ripped your shirt.”

Colin, utterly unbothered, popped the button in his mouth.

Nick screamed.

Charlie panicked, quickly fishing it out. “Okay, okay, no, sweetheart, we don’t eat buttons—”

Nick lunged, shielding Charlie and Colin with his whole body. “That’s it. He needs 24/7 supervision. No buttons, no zippers, no—no drawstrings—”

Charlie, wheezing, adjusted Colin so he couldn’t reach any more potential wardrobe hazards. “Nick, you’re literally spiraling.”

Nick wasn’t listening. He was pacing. “I can’t let him get hurt, Charlie. I won’t.” He turned, jabbing a finger toward Colin. “And you—you watch it, little man. That’s my Charlie. You don’t just go ripping things off him.”

Charlie snorted. “I love how you’re acting like he did it with malicious intent.”

Nick grumbled something unintelligible, then crossed his arms, still brimming with protective energy. “You know what? It’s fine. We’ll just never let him near small objects again. Or anything with sharp edges. Or gravity.”

Charlie shook his head, grinning. “Nick—”

“Nope. I’ve decided. I’ll personally ensure he never encounters danger.”

Charlie smirked. “Including the danger of… a future partner?”

Nick froze.

Charlie’s smirk widened. “What happens in ten years when he has his first boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Nick’s eye twitched.

Charlie laughed. “Oh my god.”

Nick turned to Kate, voice flat. “Can I legally ban dating?”

Kate, barely holding in her amusement, said, “No.”

Nick exhaled sharply, turning back to Colin. He cupped the baby’s round little cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. “Alright, buddy, listen up. No dating. Ever.”

Colin babbled.

Nick nodded solemnly. “Glad we’re in agreement.”

Charlie cackled. “You cannot be serious.”

Nick turned, eyes ablaze with protective intensity. “I’ll chaperone.”

Charlie gaped. “You’re actually insane.”

“I mean it, Charlie. If anyone ever comes near our baby—”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “What? You’ll what?”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “I’ll… remove them.”

Kate coughed. “Nick—”

“Legally.”

Charlie shook his head. “Nick, you cannot just legally remove people—”

Nick held up a hand. “I will find a way.”

Charlie, still laughing, pressed another kiss to Colin’s curls. “God, you’re already such a dad.”

Nick beamed. “The best dad.” Then he turned feral again. “And I swear on everything, Charlie, neither of you are ever going to cry of sadness while I’m alive. Ever.”

Charlie smiled. “That’s very sweet.”

Nick nodded. “And no man or woman is coming near him without a chaperone. Especially a man.”.”

Charlie groaned.

Nick exhaled, then turned to Kate, voice thick with emotion. “Okay. He’s ours. It’s clear. We’re done here.”

Charlie let out a teary laugh.

Kate’s smile widened. “I think it’s clear for all of us.”

Colin yawned against Charlie’s chest, still clutching his fox, his tiny fingers gripping Charlie’s shirt.

Kate straightened. “Come on. I think it’s time to start signing some paperwork.”

Nick and Charlie shared a look.

They knew.

They had known the moment they saw him.

This was their son.

Nick had filled out a lot of forms in his life. School applications, job contracts, endless stacks of paperwork for his students. But nothing compared to the sheer weight of the forms currently spread out before him.

Adoption paperwork.

His name, Charlie’s name, and—

Colin’s name.

Nick swallowed hard, staring at the space where they had to sign. His hand, which had been perfectly steady a second ago, suddenly felt useless.

Charlie, beside him, nudged his knee. “Nick?”

Nick inhaled sharply. “I’m fine. I’m just…” He glanced at Charlie, eyes wide. “This is huge.”

Charlie exhaled a laugh, his own fingers slightly unsteady around his pen. “Yeah. It is.”

Across the desk, Kate Davies watched them with mild amusement. “You don’t have to do it all at once,” she reminded them. “Take your time.”

Nick barely heard her. His entire world had narrowed down to the neat black lines on the form, the tiny instruction that read Sign here.

Charlie leaned in slightly, voice softer now. “Nick.”

Nick turned, eyes flickering between Charlie’s face and the form.

Charlie smiled at him, warm and reassuring, like he always did when Nick overthought everything. “We’re ready for this.”

Nick swallowed hard. Then, with one final breath, he took his pen and—

Signed.

The second his name was on the paper, something in his chest unlocked.

Charlie signed right after him, his own handwriting smooth and confident.

And that was it.

Colin was theirs.

Nick let out a long breath, dropping his pen dramatically onto the table. “Holy shit.”

Charlie snorted. “Very eloquent.”

Nick ignored him, turning to Kate. “That’s it? We just—sign some forms and now we’re parents?”

Kate chuckled. “There will be a few more legalities before it’s official-official, but yes. In a month, Colin will be fully and legally yours.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. That was so much pressure.”

Charlie smirked. “Nick, it was one page.”

Nick pointed aggressively. “One life-altering page.”

Kate pushed another stack toward them. “Well, then you’ll love this next part. Now, we go through the rest of the paperwork.”

Nick’s soul left his body.

Charlie covered his laugh with a cough. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

An hour later, Nick was slumped dramatically against Charlie’s shoulder.

“Too many words,” he mumbled.

Charlie, still diligently checking boxes, hummed. “You teach English.”

Nick waved a hand weakly. “That’s different. Those are fun words. This is bureaucracy.”

Kate, signing the last of her own documents, smirked. “Well, congratulations. You survived.”

Nick lifted his head, blinking. “We’re done?”

Kate nodded. “We’re done.”

Nick immediately grabbed Charlie’s hand and raised it in the air. “We did it!”

Charlie rolled his eyes fondly. “Yes, Nick. We did it.”

Kate stood, smiling. “Now, go home. Rest. Celebrate. You’ll be back soon enough.”

Nick exhaled, nodding. “Right. Okay.” He turned to Charlie. “Let’s go home.”

Charlie nodded, glancing once more at the paperwork before standing. “Home.”

Their home.

The one that would soon officially include their son.

Nick had never been so hyper-aware of his surroundings before. The roads, the cars, the street signs—it all felt different.

Charlie, behind the wheel, seemed to sense it too.

Nick exhaled, staring out the window. “Everything looks weird.”

Charlie glanced at him. “Weird how?”

Nick gestured vaguely. “Like… bigger? Like, I don’t know. More important.”

Charlie huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s because it is more important.”

Nick turned to him, frowning. “Does this mean we have to be, like, extra-responsible now?”

Charlie smirked. “I mean, ideally, yeah.”

Nick groaned. “Ugh. We’re gonna be parents.”

Charlie laughed, reaching over to squeeze Nick’s knee. “Yeah. We are.”

Nick stared at him, something warm and huge swelling in his chest.

Charlie. His husband. The love of his life. The person who had walked into his world when he was sixteen and never left.

And now, now, they were about to raise a child together.

Nick exhaled, leaning back. “This is gonna be wild.”

Charlie smiled, eyes soft. “Yeah.”

And with that, they drove home

Chapter Text

Nick stepped into their flat, inhaled deeply—then immediately froze.

Charlie, who had been in the process of shrugging off his coat, stopped mid-motion. “Nick?”

Nick didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, staring into the living room like he’d walked into a crime scene.

Charlie frowned. “Nick. What—”

And then Nick exploded.

“Oh my God!”

Charlie barely had time to react before Nick was suddenly everywhere—frantically pacing, waving his arms, mumbling in a rapidly escalating panic.

“Charlie,” Nick gasped, running a hand through his hair. “Charlie. This house—this flat—this lair—what kind of environment is this for a baby?!”

Charlie, still halfway out of his coat, blinked. “Uh—”

Nick spun around, eyes wild. “Charlie, there are corners everywhere! Sharp, dangerous corners! The coffee table is basically a death trap! Why do we even own a coffee table?”

Charlie squinted at it. “Because… we drink coffee?”

Nick pointed aggressively. “Not anymore! It has to go! Colin could—could fall! And crack his tiny baby skull! And then we’ll have to explain to the adoption agency that we are the worst parents in the history of the world, and they’ll take him away, and we’ll have to move to a remote village in shame, and I’ll be known as the man who failed at fatherhood before it even started—”

Charlie sighed, rubbing his temples. “Nick.”

Nick spun again, eyes darting wildly around the flat. “The bookshelves!” He gasped. “We have bookshelves, Charlie! With books on them! Heavy books! Have you ever been hit by a book? It hurts!”

Charlie, who had literally been buried under fallen books before, nodded solemnly. “I can confirm.”

Nick threw his hands up. “We have to baby-proof the bookshelves! And the cabinets! And—oh my God, the outlets, Charlie! We have exposed electrical outlets!”

Charlie, unfazed, crossed his arms. “Nick, he’s just over a year old. He’s not going to be shoving forks into sockets.”

Nick looked horrified. “Charlie, we have forks?!”

Charlie sighed deeply. “Yes, Nick. We have forks. Like normal adults.”

Nick clutched his chest. “We need to hide them. He’s a baby, Charlie! He doesn’t know about danger!”

Charlie, in the driest tone imaginable, said, “We will, of course, raise him in a fork-free environment.”

Nick, too panicked to detect sarcasm, nodded seriously. “Good. Good.”

Charlie groaned, finally shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto the couch. “Nick, you’re spiraling.”

Nick gasped. “Spiraling?! SPIRALING?! Charlie, we life in a fifth floor!”

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose.

Nick spun again, scanning the living room like it had personally insulted him. “We need—okay, we need a plan.” He began ticking things off on his fingers. “Baby-proofing kits. Child locks. Soft furniture. We need to throw out all the glassware, and the plates, and honestly, I’m considering burning the coffee table—”

Charlie dragged a hand down his face. “Nick, please do not set our furniture on fire.”

Nick wasn’t listening. He was on a rampage.

“Oh my God, the kitchen! Charlie, do you realize how many hazards there are in our kitchen?!”

Charlie leaned against the counter. “Knives? Appliances? Hot surfaces?”

Nick turned to him, frantic. “Yes! And also—spices!”

Charlie stared. “…Spices.”

Nick pointed accusingly at the spice rack. “That’s an arsenal, Charlie. Do you know what would happen if Colin got into the cayenne pepper? We’d go from ‘happy family’ to ‘medical emergency’ in under five seconds!”

Charlie sighed. “We’ll move them to a higher shelf.”

Nick flailed. “But what if he climbs?!”

Charlie exhaled, rubbing his temples. “He is barely walking, Nick.”

Nick paused. “Oh. Right.”

Charlie gave him a look.

Nick cleared his throat. “But still—”

Charlie held up a hand. “Okay, let’s think this through. I already keep everything organized. We already have safety measures in place. I have OCD, Nick. I have literally spent my entire life making sure things are in the right place, controlled, safe.”

Nick’s panic faltered slightly. “Oh.”

Charlie smirked. “Yeah. So maybe I should be the one having a meltdown about baby-proofing.”

Nick flopped onto the couch dramatically. “But you’re calm.”

Charlie sat beside him, nudging his knee. “Because we have time. We have a month. And Colin is not an unsupervised gremlin, he’s a baby.”

Nick groaned, covering his face. “Charlie. I love you. But I need you to let me be dramatic about this.”

Charlie chuckled, leaning into him. “Fine. But no burning the coffee table.”

Nick huffed. “Ugh. Fine.”

Charlie smiled, squeezing his knee. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Nick exhaled. “Yeah,  I suggest that we go right now to check on the extra room so we know how to start the end is going to be Colin’s and we have to know what we need”

Charlie smirked. “Now you are talking”

Charlie hummed to himself as he wandered toward the spare room, pushing the door open and scanning the space with a thoughtful expression. It wasn’t much right now—just a plain, barely decorated room with a bed, a small wardrobe, and a bookshelf filled with random books neither of them had ever actually read. It was fine as a guest room, but as a nursery?

He was standing in Colin’s room.

And oh, oh, his brain took off.

He stepped forward, touching the wall, imagining it painted a soft, warm color—maybe sage green, or a gentle blue. A bookshelf overflowing with stories. A nightlight casting a golden glow. A big plush armchair in the corner where they’d sit for bedtime, Colin curled in his lap, warm and safe.

A toy chest filled with little wooden trains and stuffed animals and building blocks. A rug soft enough for crawling, for playing, for sleepy little feet padding across the room in the morning—

“Charlie, I swear to God, we need to talk about the glassware.”

Charlie barely heard him. He was already designing Colin’s wardrobe in his head—tiny coats, tiny hats, tiny shoes. Little outfits for every season, neatly folded, perfectly arranged—

Nick groaned, following him into the spare room. “Charlie, I’m serious. We have so much glass in this house. Cups, plates, picture frames! I saw a candle holder in the living room that could absolutely be classified as a bludgeoning weapon—”

Nick grabbed his shoulders. “Charlie. Stay with me.”

Charlie blinked. “Hm?”

Nick gestured wildly. “You’re dreaming.”

Charlie smiled softly. “It’s nice.”

Nick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Charlie, do you understand the logistical nightmare we are about to embark on?”

Charlie hummed, walking over to the empty corner, tilting his head. Maybe a reading nook. A little bean bag. A soft lamp. A space just for Colin to curl up with a book—

Nick clutched his chest. “Charlie, I swear to God—”

Charlie turned, eyes hazy. “Oh, Nick, we need star lights.”

Nick let out a noise so strangled it barely sounded human. “We need baby-proofing. We need practical furniture. We need—”

“A rocking horse,” Charlie whispered, eyes wide.

Nick looked like he was about to collapse. “Charlie, I’m begging you—”

Charlie gasped. “A TEEPEE.”

Nick grabbed his own hair. “CHARLIE.”

Charlie twirled toward him. “Nick, picture it. He’s sitting in his little teepee. It’s filled with pillows and fairy lights. He’s reading a book—no, he’s drawing, he’s making art, he’s going to be so creative, he’s going to be a genius—”

Nick sprinted to the dining table, grabbed his entire stack of research notes, and slammed them down in front of Charlie. “There is no evidence to suggest a teepee will make him a genius.”

Charlie smirked. “There’s no evidence to suggest it won’t.”

Nick’s eye twitched.

Charlie turned back to the room, clasping his hands together. “Oh, we have to get custom wallpaper.”

Nick nearly fell to his knees. “We need to get outlet covers.”

Charlie hummed. “Maybe little animals? Or clouds? Or—”

Nick dramatically staggered back. “We need to make sure there’s no lead paint in the walls.”

Charlie tilted his head, utterly unaffected. “Oh, maybe glow-in-the-dark stars—”

Nick flung himself onto the couch, face-first, muffling a long, defeated groan.

“Charlie, that’s adorable, but I am begging you to focus.”

Charlie sighed, dramatically placing a hand on his heart. “Fine. What’s wrong now?”

Nick gestured wildly. “The entire apartment, Charlie! It’s a nightmare! Have you seen our furniture? It’s so… so pointy. And heavy. And—and breakable!”

Charlie tilted his head. “Nick. We are not throwing out all our furniture.”

Nick huffed. “Okay, but what about the floors? Have you thought about the floors? They’re hard, Charlie! So hard. Babies fall all the time, you know. And what happens when he starts walking? Huh? One little stumble and—bam! Concussion.”

Charlie pursed his lips.

“…I was thinking about getting a soft rug for his room.”

Nick gasped. “Yes. Genius. We’ll get one for the whole flat.”

Charlie snorted. “We are not carpeting the entire flat, Nick.”

Nick looked genuinely betrayed. “Charlie.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and turned back to the room, running a hand along the wardrobe. “I’m thinking soft blues. Or maybe a warm beige? Something cozy.”

Nick waved his arms. “I am literally spiraling, and you are thinking about color palettes?”

Charlie ignored him. “Maybe some plush toys? A little elephant, maybe? Or—oh, Nick, imagine a stuffed elephant. Colin with a stuffed elephant, cuddling it while he sleeps.” Charlie turned, grinning. “You’re having fun.”

Nick, voice muffled in the cushions, grumbled, “I’m going to die.”

Charlie walked over, flopping onto his back, resting his head on Nick’s. “It’s going to be perfect.”

Nick exhaled. “I know.”

Charlie smiled. “Because I’m designing it.”

Nick whined. “And I’m supervising.”

Charlie chuckled. “Fine, fine.” He poked Nick’s shoulder. “But we’re getting the teepee.”

Nick groaned louder.

Charlie grinned.

This was going to be so much fun.

Nick had expected Charlie to laugh off his baby-proofing meltdown. Maybe tease him a little, maybe remind him (gently) that he was being a bit ridiculous.

What he hadn’t expected was to walk into the kitchen the next morning and find Charlie sitting at the table with an actual clipboard, furiously writing down notes.

Nick blinked. “Uh… what’s happening here?”

Charlie didn’t look up. “We’re baby-proofing.”

Nick hesitated. “Like… right now?”

Charlie underlined something aggressively. “Nick, although you panicked excessively, you made some valid points last night.”

Nick frowned. “I did?”

Charlie finally glanced up, his expression so serious that Nick almost laughed. “Yes. This flat is not baby-proofed. And if we’re bringing Colin home in a month, we need to fix that.”

Nick looked at the clipboard again, noticing that Charlie had color-coded the list.

He inhaled sharply. “Charlie.”

Charlie hummed, flipping the page.

Nick gasped. “Charlie. Is this a multi-page document?”

Charlie nodded, completely unbothered.

Nick collapsed into a chair, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my God. I created a monster.”

Charlie ignored him, tapping his pen. “We’ll have to start tonight. After work.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “Tonight?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want our son to live in a death trap?”

Nick made a strangled noise. “Okay. First of all? Rude. Second of all? How did we go from me panicking to you panicking?”

Charlie adjusted his glasses. “Because one of us has to be productive about it.”

Nick groaned, flopping back against the chair. “God, I love you.”

Charlie smirked. “I know.”

🍃🍂🍃

One Week Later

Nick had never been this exhausted in his entire life.

Every single day after work, he and Charlie had come home, rolled up their sleeves, and baby-proofed the hell out of their flat.

Charlie’s list had been insanely thorough.

Outlets? Covered.

Sharp corners? Padded.

Cabinets? Locked.

Breakable objects? Hidden.

Knives? Placed in a fortress of security.

Charlie had even gone beyond baby-proofing, labeling things with instructions, reorganizing the pantry (again), and somehow convincing Nick that they needed a first aid kit only for colin.

By the time Friday night rolled around, Nick was done.

He collapsed onto the couch, groaning dramatically. “Charlie. I have nothing left to give.”

Charlie sat beside him, sighing. “It’s been a long week.”

Nick turned his head. “No, no. You don’t understand. I have bruises. From installing things. Bruises, Charlie. I am a broken man.”

Charlie smirked. “You’ll survive.”

Nick groaned. “Will I? Will I?”

Charlie rolled his eyes, nudging him. “At least now our home is actually safe.”

Nick sighed, staring at the baby-proofed apartment. “I mean… yeah. It does look good.” He paused. “Like, really good.”

Charlie leaned into him. “Told you.”

Nick exhaled, finally relaxing. “Okay. We’re done, right? No more house projects?”

Charlie hummed. “Well… now we need to buy everything for the baby.”

Nick sat up so fast he almost fell off the couch. “Oh my God, I forgot about that.”

Charlie patted his knee. “Don’t worry. I’ve already started a list.”

Nick groaned. “Of course you have.”

Charlie grinned. “Let’s go shopping this weekend.”

Nick sighed, flopping back onto the couch. “Fine. But if I have to look at one more list, I might actually perish.”

Charlie kissed his temple. “Noted.”

Nick closed his eyes, letting himself rest for the first time in days.

But, of course, his brain wouldn’t let him.

Baby shopping.

For Colin.

Nick grinned to himself.

Okay. Maybe he was a little excited.

For the first time in a week, their apartment didn’t look like a war zone. No scattered tools, no open instruction manuals, no leftover plastic baby-proofing gear lying around. Just a fully prepared, Colin-ready home.

And Nick was so close to enjoying it.

Then he heard the car.

Charlie heard it too. They both paused, listening as the distant hum of an engine approached, growing louder before cutting off outside.

Nick yawned, stretching out on the couch. “Probably one of the neighbors.”

Charlie frowned. “No one usually parks right outside unless—”

He turned toward the window, glanced outside—

And then screamed.

“Nick! It’s your mother!”

Nick, who had been blissfully sprawled out, shot up so fast he nearly dislocated something. “What?!”

Charlie was still staring in horror out the window. “She’s getting out of the car. Nick, she’s coming inside.”

Nick’s soul left his body.

Because oh. Oh.

They had not told Sarah about the baby yet.

And she was about to walk into a fully baby-proofed flat.

Nick bolted to his feet, panicking. “Okay, okay, okay, what do we do?!”

Charlie spun around, looking equally panicked. “We—we hide everything!”

Nick gawked at him. “Charlie, we literally baby-proofed the entire flat! What do you want me to do, un-baby-proof it?!”

Charlie flailed uselessly. “I don’t know! Distract her!”

Nick groaned. “How?! Throw a sandwich at her?!”

Before Charlie could answer, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Both of them froze.

Nick’s heartbeat was raging.

Charlie, still staring at the door, whispered, “Maybe if we don’t move, she’ll think no one’s home.”

Nick stared at him. “She knows we’re home. The car is here. The lights are on. We just screamed her name.”

Charlie groaned, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Think. What’s the least suspicious way to act normal?”

Nick paced in a tight circle, mumbling, “Normal, normal, normal…” before whirling back around. “I’ve got nothing.”

Another knock. This time, Sarah’s voice followed.

“Nick? Charlie? I know you’re in there!”

Nick yelped like a guilty criminal and started shoving things off counters.

Charlie gawked at him. “ what are you doing?!”

Nick, mid-panic, waved a baby-proofing manual in the air before hurling it behind the couch. “ getting rid of the evidence!”

Charlie buried his face in his hands.

The doorknob turned.

Nick made an inhuman noise.

And then, before they could react—Sarah walked in.

Nick and Charlie both jumped back, standing in the most suspiciously stiff way imaginable.

Sarah, dressed in her usual chic but practical outfit, raised an eyebrow at them. “Why do you look like you’ve committed a crime?”

Nick immediately panicked. “We didn’t.”

Charlie smacked his own forehead.

Sarah narrowed her eyes, stepping inside. “Right. And that didn’t sound suspicious at all.”

Charlie, still processing, forced a polite smile. “Oh, Sarah, we—uh—we didn’t know you were coming.”

Sarah waved a hand. “Oh, yeah, I decided this morning! I had the weekend free, and I thought, why not pop down to London to see my boys?” She smiled warmly. “I hope you don’t have any plans, and I can stay in the spare room.”

Nick and Charlie froze.

Sarah. Staying. Here.

In the spare room.

The same spare room that, in just a few weeks, was going to belong to their son.

Nick’s heart nearly exploded.

Charlie’s eyes flickered to Nick’s, and Nick flickered back, both of them thinking the same thing:

Thank God we haven’t bought anything yet.

For now, the room was still just a guest room. No crib, no baby toys, no tiny socks lying around incriminating them.

Crisis averted.

Charlie, regaining his composure, quickly nodded. “Oh! Yes! Of course, you can stay.”

Nick nodded stiffly. “Yep! No problem at all!”

Sarah, still eyeing them suspiciously, crossed her arms. “Alright. Now, are you two going to tell me what’s going on?”

Nick and Charlie froze again.

Sarah sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know what’s happening.”

Nick and Charlie nearly died on the spot.

Sarah knew?

She knew?!

Nick’s entire body went into overdrive. His heart pounded, his brain was screaming, his soul ascended.

Charlie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Sarah shook her head, letting out a deeply sympathetic sigh. “Boys… I’m so sorry.”

Nick stopped breathing.

Charlie stopped existing.

Sarah sighed again, looking absolutely devastated. “I totally just walked in on you two having sex again, didn’t I?”

Charlie choked on air.

Nick, in pure survival mode, did not think.

“Oh yes, Mum,” he blurted out. “You could not have chosen a worse time.”

Charlie, who had already turned bright red, gasped and whirled to look at him in betrayal.

Sarah, meanwhile, screamed in horror. “Nicholas Luke Nelson-Spring!!”

But Nick—oh, poor, stupid Nick—was too deep into his own grave to stop now.

“Oh, yeah,” he continued, still not processing what he was doing. “We were right in the middle of it, Mum. Just going for it—”

Charlie slapped a hand over Nick’s mouth. “Nick!”

Sarah clutched her pearls.

“Well, it’s not like we were doing it in a weird place like the kitchen table, or the pantry, Mum, at least at this hour, we usually try that on Saturday nights after a couple of glasses of wine…” he mumbled behind Charlie’s hand.

Sarah shrieked.

Charlie yanked his hand away. “Stop talking.”

Nick, clearly not grasping reality, kept going anyway.

“I mean, after all it cost me to have Charlie properly ready—”

Charlie lunged.

Nick finally realized what he was saying.

His eyes bulged. His soul left his body.

“Oh my God—” He threw Charlie’s hand off his face, wildly shaking his head. “No, no, no, no! That’s not—That’s not what I meant!”

Charlie wheeled on him. “Why would you say that?!”

Nick grabbed his own head. “I don’t know Charlie, I panicked.”

Sarah, still clutching her chest, took a step back. “I—I walked in on you two before, but you’ve never admitted it!”

Nick groaned, covering his face. “Because it never happened!!”

Sarah looked sick. “But you said—”

Nick threw his hands in the air. “I was joking!”

Charlie dragged his hands down his face. “Oh my God, Nick.”

Sarah shook her head, trying to recover. “I—I cannot believe you’d talk about this in front of your mother.”

Nick collapsed onto the couch. “I wasn’t thinking!”

Charlie muttered, “Understatement of the year.”

Sarah, still pale, took a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s reset.” She pointed at them. “If you weren’t—” she waved her hands vaguely, “—doing that, then what were you doing?”

Nick trying to remedy the situation started “Well I was inside…”

Charlie lunged across the room and smacked him. “Nick.”

Nick, eyes wide, doubled down like the idiot he was. “I meant inside the house, not inside Charlie!.”

Sarah made a strangled noise.

Charlie grabbed Nick’s face in both hands. “Shut up.”

Nick kept going. “And after all it cost me to have Charlie try—”

“Stop talking!” Charlie yelled, shaking him violently.

Sarah collapsed onto a chair. “Jesus Christ, I need a drink”

Nick had never felt more doomed in his life.

Sarah, still pale, took a deep breath. “Alright. Can someone explain to me what is happening here?”

Nick and Charlie exchanged a desperate look.

Abort mission. Abort. Mission.

Nick cleared his throat, stepping in front of Charlie slightly. “We were—uh—redecorating!”

Sarah frowned. “Redecorating what?”

Nick flailed. “The, uh—the floor!”

Sarah squinted. “The floor.”

Charlie sighed. “Nick.”

Nick, sweating, nodded aggressively. “Yeah! The floor! We were, um—testing it! For… stability.”

Sarah blinked. “By screaming?”

Nick froze.

Charlie buried his face in his hands.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the room—taking in the suspiciously extensive baby-proofing that neither of them had had the foresight to remove before she arrived.

Nick could feel the seconds stretch into years as Sarah’s gaze roamed over the safety locks, the newly cushioned coffee table corners, the high shelves that once held breakable objects now completely empty.

And then, just as Nick thought she couldn’t get any closer to the truth—

She spotted something on the coffee table.

A photograph.

A small, printed picture of Colin.

Sarah picked it up.

Nick stopped breathing.

Charlie made a strangled noise.

Sarah turned the photo over in her hands, frowning slightly. “Who’s this baby?”

Nick and Charlie both started mumbling incoherently.

Charlie tried first. “Uh, he’s—um—”

Nick jumped in. “He’s—uh—”

Charlie blurted, “The son of a friend!”

Sarah slowly tilted her head. “What friend?”

Charlie and Nick froze.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “I know all your friends. And none of them have babies.”

Nick could feel the blood draining from his face.

Charlie, equally pale, let out a very forced laugh. “Well, you don’t know everyone—”

Sarah’s eyes flickered between them. Her lips parted slightly.

Then—very quietly, very slowly—

Her entire face changed.

Nick felt his heart plummet.

Sarah inhaled sharply, clutching the photo. “Boys.”

Nick tensed.

Sarah stepped forward. “Boys, don’t you dare tell me—”

Nick, feeling his entire life force collapsing, grabbed Charlie’s hand.

Then, barely above a whisper, he croaked, “We’re gonna be dads.”

Charlie squeezed Nick’s hand, swallowing hard.

Nick forced a weak, nervous smile. “Surprise?”

A silence.

Sarah stared.

Nick swore he saw the five stages of grief flash through her face at light speed.

And then—

Sarah’s entire body snapped to life.

“You absolute little—”

Nick barely had time to flinch before Sarah lunged at them, swatting at their arms, their shoulders, whatever she could reach.

“How dare you?!”

Charlie yelped, dodging behind Nick. “Sarah—wait—”

Sarah kept swinging. “How dare you hide this from me?!”

Nick, using his arms as a pathetic shield, cowered. “Mum, please—”

Sarah whacked him with the photo. “I have waited years for this moment!”

Charlie ducked behind the couch. “It wasn’t—personal—”

Sarah lunged for him next. “You shut your mouth, Charles Francis Nelson-Spring!”

Charlie squeaked.

Nick tried to intervene, failed, and also tried to hide behind the couch. “Mum, please—”

Sarah grabbed a pillow and started whacking them both with it.

“You—” whack

“Hid—” whack

“My grandson from me—” whack whack whack

Nick groaned. “Mum, this is abuse.”

Sarah, near tears, clutched the photo to her chest, taking deep, shaky breaths.

Charlie, wheezing, finally gasped, “Sarah—please—we were going to tell you!”

Sarah, still wildly flailing the pillow in righteous grandmotherly fury, scoffed. “Yeah, but when, Charlie? When my grandson is ten years old and decides to stop calling me Nana Nelson? All my plans almost thrown away”

Nick groaned, rubbing his face. “Oh no. Oh no. This is happening again. It’s like our wedding.”

Charlie turned to him, still ducking from the pillow. “Nick, what the hell does that mean?”

Nick threw his hands up. “Mum lost her mind back then too! Remember? When we told her we were engaged and she started planning before we even set a date?!”

Sarah whacked Nick’s shoulder with the pillow. “Oh, I’m sorry, Nicholas, for being supportive!”

Charlie, still catching his breath, narrowed his eyes. “Sarah… what do you mean you’ve been planning for this?”

Sarah grinned—an absolutely diabolical grin.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said sweetly. Too sweetly. “Did you really think me sending you all those little baby videos was unintentional?”

Charlie froze.

Nick gasped. “Oh my God.”

Charlie stared at her. “You—”

Sarah batted her lashes. “What?”

Charlie pointed accusingly. “You did that on purpose?!”

Sarah beamed. “Of course I did! I knew I couldn’t push the subject with Nick—he’d just shut down and avoid it telling me you were very young, or that you didn’t have time—so I had to go for you. I knew if you told Nick you wanted a baby, he would agree immediately.”

Charlie gawked. ” You manipulated me?!”

Sarah smirked. “Oh, honey. I strategized.”

Nick let out an actual scream. “ mum!”

Sarah threw her hands in the air, jumping in place. “ And it worked!!”

Nick collapsed onto the couch, defeated.

Charlie, still in shock, turned to Nick. “Are you hearing this?!”

Nick waved a limp hand. “Oh, I’ve been hearing it, Charlie.”

Sarah, still vibrating with excitement, did a little spin. “ I’m going to have my perfect grandbaby!”

Charlie groaned, dropping onto the couch next to Nick. “We’ve enabled this.”

Nick, staring blankly at the ceiling, whispered, “We walked into this.”

Sarah clapped her hands together. “Now! Let’s talk grandma names!”

Nick bolted upright. “No.”

Nick barely had time to recover from the horrifying realization that his mother had been secretly orchestrating his fatherhood when Sarah suddenly rounded on him, hands on her hips, looking every bit like she used to when he was three years old and had tried to eat sand at the playground.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Nicky!”

Nick instinctively straightened, like he was about to be put in time-out. “I—I wasn’t—”

Sarah pointed directly at his soul. “Look here, Nelson-Spring! I have been preparing for this moment since you two got married, and we are doing this my way!”

Nick gawked. “Mum, it’s our child!”

Sarah threw up a hand. “Silence!”

Nick flinched. Charlie choked on laughter.

Sarah, now pacing like a general preparing for battle, suddenly stopped mid-step and gasped dramatically. Her eyes scanned the room, locking onto the baby-proofed corners, the outlet covers, the cabinet locks.

Slowly, she turned back to them, eyes glinting.

Nick’s stomach plummeted.

Sarah inhaled sharply. “You’ve already baby-proofed the flat.”

Nick and Charlie exchanged a panicked glance.

Sarah clasped her hands together, her entire being vibrating with delight. “This was Step Three in my binder.”

Nick’s blood ran cold.

His voice shook. “Oh no.” He held up a trembling hand, totally traumatized remembering all the binders his mother had for his wedding. “Don’t tell me—” He swallowed. “Mum. Do you have a binder for this?”

Sarah grinned. “Of course I have a binder, Nicholas!” Then she waved it off. “But don’t worry, I have it all in my head.”

Nick physically recoiled.

Charlie, who had been enjoying Nick’s suffering far too much, suddenly realized what that meant. “Oh my God.” He turned to Nick. “I’ve been working my butt of  to organize this month while She has already a plan.”

Sarah beamed. “Correct! And since you’ve so kindly already completed Step Three, all you need to do is tell me exactly what you’ve already done, and we can start having the perfect weekend preparing for my grandbaby!”

Nick gasped. “Mum, no—”

Sarah clapped her hands together. “ Oh my God, I don’t even know his name! Tell me everything!!!”

Nick and Charlie froze.

They slowly turned to each other.

No words. No escape. No hope.

Just one, singular, shared thought:

We are so fucking doomed.

Chapter Text

Nick had never seen his mother so energized.

Not at his wedding.

Not at his university graduation.

Not even when she found out that Jane Austen’s house had a new tea room.

Sarah Nelson-Spring was in her element.

“Alright, boys,” she declared, standing in the center of their previously peaceful living room, hands on her hips like a commander ready to lead troops into battle. “We have a lot to do.”

Nick, who was still recovering from the whole Sarah coaching them to have a baby revelation, let out a weak, “Oh no.”

Charlie, meanwhile, was already bracing himself. “What, um… what exactly does ‘a lot’ entail?”

Sarah whirled on him. “Shopping.”

Nick groaned.

Sarah ignored him. “We need furniture, clothes, food, baby supplies, toys, bottles—oh, and don’t forget the stroller, you’ll want something practical but stylish—”

Charlie, weakly, muttered, “Sarah, you don’t have to—”

Sarah pointed at him aggressively. “Shush, my love! I am in full grandmother mode now.”

Nick whimpered. “We just finished baby-proofing the flat.”

Sarah waved a hand. “And now you’re graduating to the next phase! Consider it Step Four.”

Nick groaned into his hands. “I hate how organized you are.”

Sarah beamed. “It’s a gift, darling.”

Charlie, sensing that there was no escaping this, sighed. “Alright. Fine. This weekend we shop, we already had discussed this.”

Sarah clapped her hands. “Perfect! And next week, I assume you two are free?”

Nick frowned. “Uh… for what?”

Sarah grinned. “Dinner at my house in Kent.”

Nick’s stomach dropped.

Charlie visibly tensed. “…Dinner?”

Sarah beamed. “Oh, darling, obviously we’re having a family dinner with your parents and your brother and your sister, so we can all share the good news together.”

Nick turned to Charlie, expecting outrage. Surely Charlie would put an end to this.

But Charlie only blinked, his expression dazed. “…You already planned a dinner?”

Sarah tilted her head. “Oh, Charlie, don’t be silly. I planned this years ago.”

Charlie let out a soft wheeze. “Years?”

Nick, clutching his skull, muttered, “I cannot keep living like this.”

Charlie exhaled sharply, trying to think. “Well, Sarah, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

Sarah immediately cut him off, smiling sweetly but with menace. “Darling, are you really planning on popping out one day and saying, ‘Hello, I have a baby now’?”

Charlie froze.

Nick slowly turned to him, waiting.

Charlie pursed his lips. “Well… I was considering it.”

Sarah gasped dramatically. “Charles!.”

Charlie winced.

Sarah placed a hand on her heart. “I refuse to let my grandson enter this family without fanfare!”

Charlie sighed. “Alright, alright. We’ll have the dinner.”

Sarah clapped excitedly. “Fabulous! Now, let’s get moving!”

Nick, still processing his imminent doom, yelped as Sarah suddenly grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the door.

Charlie, somehow already in his coat, muttered, “I don’t even remember putting this on.”

Sarah, absolutely thrilled, threw open the door. “Boys, it’s shopping time!”

Charlie looked at Sarah “Sarah it’s Friday night”

“Oh right” she said “Well, then tomorrow at first hour in the morning it is, now let’s go have dinner, although I don’t think I can eat in the kitchen again after what Nick told me you like to do on Saturday nights”

Nick let out a pitiful groan. “I’m so tired.”

Nick had been on some exhausting shopping trips before.

The time his mum took him suit shopping for his first job interview. The time Charlie had dragged him through three different bookstores in one day because he couldn’t decide where he wanted to buy a single edition of Wuthering Heights, or his own wedding suit shopping trip.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for Baby Shopping With Sarah Nelson-Spring.

The moment they stepped into the massive baby store on Oxford Street, Sarah took off like a woman possessed.

“Alright, boys!” she declared, dramatically removing her coat like she was about to run a marathon. “Let’s get to work!”

Nick, who was already exhausted just from the journey here, rubbed his face. “Mum, can we at least grab a coffee first?”

Sarah ignored him entirely.

Charlie, ever the responsible one, hesitated. “Shouldn’t we have a list?”

Sarah gasped, spinning around dramatically. “A list?! A list?! My dear, sweet, naïve son-in-law, I am the list.”

Nick groaned. “Oh my God.”

Sarah clapped her hands. “Alright! Strollers first!”

Charlie nodded, seemingly relieved that they were starting with something reasonable. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Nick muttered, “Does it?”

Charlie gave him a look.

Sarah, meanwhile, was already storming towards the stroller section, her pace so aggressive that three employees turned to watch.

Nick and Charlie scrambled to catch up.

Nick had never seen so many strollers in his life.

There were hundreds of them.

Lightweight ones. Jogging ones. Some that looked like they could survive an apocalypse.

Nick stared. “Mum, why are there so many?”

Sarah didn’t even hesitate before rattling off, “Because parents have different needs, Nicholas. Do you want one that folds? One that converts into a car seat? One with cup holders?”

Nick’s brain short-circuited. “Cup holders?!”

Charlie, rubbing his temples, muttered, “Why is that the thing you’re focused on?”

Sarah ignored them both and marched straight to a fancy-looking stroller with sleek black fabric and sturdy wheels.

“This one,” she declared. “It’s perfect.”

Nick frowned. “It’s—” He squinted at the price tag. “FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS?!”

Sarah waved him off. “That’s a steal.”

Nick choked. “In what world?!”

Charlie, eyeing another stroller, mumbled, “Do we really need something so expensive?”

Sarah gasped as if he had personally insulted her. “Charlie!.”

Charlie flinched.

Sarah grabbed his arms. “My grandson deserves the best..”

Nick rubbed his temples. “Mum, Colin is barely over a year old. He’s not even going to know what stroller he’s in.”

Sarah scoffed. “And yet I will.”

Charlie, sensing danger, quickly turned to Nick. “Maybe we should just… pick one before she makes us buy an entire fleet of them.”

Nick groaned. “Fine. But we are not spending four hundred pounds on baby wheels.”

Sarah pouted. “You boys are no fun.”

Nick huffed. “That’s rich coming from the woman who turned baby shopping into an Olympic sport.”

Charlie sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, let’s just get a practical one and move on.”

Sarah sighed deeply, as if they were personally ruining her dreams. “Fine. But I get final approval.”

Nick turned to Charlie. “How did she become this powerful?”

Charlie whispered, “I don’t know. But we’re never stopping her.”

Nick had not been prepared for baby clothes.

But now that he was standing in the middle of a sea of tiny, adorable outfits, he was officially unwell.

“Charlie,” he whispered, holding up the smallest pair of overalls he had ever seen. “Charlie, look.”

Charlie, who was already holding a tiny bear-themed hoodie, turned and immediately gasped.

Nick clutched the overalls to his chest. “Charlie, he’s gonna wear these.”

Charlie exhaled sharply. “Nick, stop.”

Nick shook his head rapidly. “I can’t.”

Sarah, watching this unfold, smiled smugly. “I knew this would break you.”

Nick ignored her completely. His entire world had shrunk to the tiny denim overalls in his hands.

“Charlie,” he choked out, “they have pockets.”

Charlie gasped again. “What is he gonna put in them, Nick??!”

Nick squeaked. “His little hands Charlie!”

Charlie staggered back, gripping a rack for support. “Oh my god.”

Sarah cackled.

And then—

The sound that destroyed Nick Nelson-Spring.

Somewhere in the store, a baby wailed.

Nick froze.

Charlie turned sharply toward the noise.

Sarah, thrilled, watched as Nick’s expression went from mildly overwhelmed to full emotional breakdown in under three seconds.

Nick whimpered.

Charlie, nudged him. “Nick. Breathe.”

Nick gasped dramatically and hugged the tiny overalls. “Charlie. It’s a baby.”

Charlie facepalmed. “Nick, I know.”

Nick shook him. “But it’s a baby, Charlie.”

Charlie, trying not to laugh answered, “I know.”

Sarah, laughing, threw an extra onesie into the cart.

Nick sniffled. “Charlie, what if—” He took a shaky breath. “What if Colin cries like that?”

Charlie rubbed his chest soothingly. “Then we’ll comfort him.”

Nick nodded rapidly, still cradling the overalls. “We’ll hold him.”

Charlie nodded. “And rock him.”

Nick wiped his eyes. “And—and dress him in these tiny overalls.”

Charlie squeezed his shoulder. “Nick, you’re so soft.”

Nick sniffled again. “I know.”

Sarah, clearly delighted, hummed. “Boys, we need to speed this up before Nick fully combusts.”

Nick gasped sharply. “Mum! Tiny socks.”

Sarah shoved him toward the display. “Go son.”

Charlie sighed, already bracing for the next emotional collapse.

After the incident in the clothes section, Nick was still slightly fragile, occasionally wiping at his eyes every time he remembered “how small” everything was.

But now—now it was Charlie’s turn.

Because they were in the baby food aisle.

Sarah was happily tossing things into the cart, muttering about organic ingredients and nutritional value, while Nick was debating whether Colin would enjoy banana puree (he will, Nick had decided, because he is perfect).

And Charlie?

Charlie was staring at a row of baby biscuits, his breath caught in his throat.

Nick, noticing the sudden quiet, turned. “Charlie?”

Charlie didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the shelves, fingers gripping the cart handle a little too tightly.

Nick frowned, stepping closer. “Babe?”

Charlie inhaled sharply. “It’s… a lot.”

Nick blinked. “The options?”

Charlie let out a shaky laugh. “No. Just—this.” He gestured vaguely at the shelves. “Food. For him.”

Nick softened. “Oh.”

Charlie exhaled slowly. “I—I used to have so much trouble with food. And now we’re about to be responsible for making sure he eats well. That he’s safe.”

Nick’s chest ached. He reached for Charlie’s hand, squeezing gently. “And you’re gonna be amazing at it.”

Charlie swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward him. “But what if I—” He hesitated. “What if I get too… obsessive about it, what if I project my problems onto him?”

Nick’s grip tightened. “That is not going to happen, and I’ll be there. Like I always have been.”

Charlie’s eyes softened.

Nick smiled. “Besides, you’re literally the most organized person I know. If anyone’s gonna make sure Colin eats well, it’s you.”

Charlie huffed a laugh, his eyes glassy. “You always know what to say.”

Nick smirked. “Yeah, well. Married life.”

Charlie exhaled, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s buy some food.”

Nick grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

Sarah, from a few feet away, suddenly clapped her hands together. “Boys! We’re getting into homemade baby puree territory!”

Nick groaned. “Mum, please.”

Charlie, now fully recovered, smirked. “No, no. Let’s hear her out.”

Nick gasped in betrayal. “Charlie!.”

Sarah patted Charlie’s cheek. “See? This one gets it.”

Nick, grumbling, grabbed the nearest pack of baby food and tossed it in the cart dramatically.

Sarah had one rule for toys.

“If it makes obnoxious noises, we’re buying it.”

Nick groaned. “Mum, why?”

Sarah grinned. “Payback, Nicholas.”

Nick scoffed. “Payback for what?”

Sarah’s smile turned dangerous. “For being a very loud toddler.”

Charlie snorted.

Nick gawked at her. “Mum, please.”

Sarah hummed. “Oh, this one looks particularly annoying.”

She pressed a button. The toy let out a screeching rendition of Old MacDonald Had a Farm.

Nick yelped. “No. Absolutely not, Charlie and I won’t be having another moment of peace if we give that to Colin.”

Sarah tossed it into the cart.

Nick grabbed Charlie’s arms. “She’s evil.”

Nick was so close to being free.

One last stop. One last item. And then they could finally go home, collapse, and eat an ungodly amount of food while pretending their bank accounts weren’t in agony.

But of course—of course—the universe decided to throw one last horrific obstacle in their way.

By the time they reached the last stop of the shopping trip—a specialty baby store to buy a car seat—Nick and Charlie were exhausted.

Their arms were sore. Their feet ached. They had spent the last five hours trailing after Sarah as she power-shopped like a woman training for an ultramarathon.

Nick sighed dramatically. “Mum, I’m begging you. One last thing, and then I can die in peace.”

Sarah patted his cheek. “Oh, Nicholas, darling, you’ll never be at peace again. You’re a parent now.”

Charlie snorted. “She’s right.”

Nick groaned, leaning against Charlie’s shoulder. “This is my villain origin story.”

Charlie patted his head. “There, there.”

Sarah beamed. “Alright! Let’s get this last thing, then we can go home and start organizing.”

Nick groaned. “Can’t we just… I don’t know… tie him down with a seatbelt? Or I have strong arms, I can cuddle him while Charlie drives”

Sarah clutched her pearls. “Nicholas Luke Nelson-Spring, how dare you?”

Charlie snorted. “I think we’re legally required to get an actual car seat, Nick.”

Nick grumbled. “Fine. But I’m warning you—if it’s more than, like, thirty pounds, I’m gonna scream.”

Sarah gave him a look. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s going to be way more than that.”

Nick sighed deeply. “I am in financial ruin.”

They walked inside the small, upscale baby store, which was cozy and well-lit, with neat displays of bassinets, car seats, and other essentials.

A middle-aged store attendant—tall, polite-looking, wearing a name tag that read Graham—approached them with a warm smile.

“Good afternoon!” he greeted cheerfully. “How can I help you today?”

Nick, mustering every ounce of energy left in his soul, smiled back. “Hey! We’re here to pick up a car seat for our baby.”

Graham’s smile widened. “Ah, wonderful! Is it your first?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

Graham clasped his hands together smiling at Charlie. “How lovely of you to come with him! It’s always exciting helping first-time parents, right?” He turned to Nick. “And is your wife with you today?”

Nick blinked. “Oh—uh, no, actually—”

Sarah grinned.

Charlie, very used to this scenario, stepped in. “We’re married,” he said, tilting his head toward Nick. “To each other.”

And that was when everything changed.

Graham’s smile froze.

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

His expression darkened.

“Oh,” he said flatly.

Nick’s stomach dropped.

Charlie tensed.

Nick knew that look. He’d seen it before.

But before he could react—

Graham scoffed.

“I see,” he muttered, his pleasant tone gone.

Nick clenched his jaw. “Is there a problem?”

Graham huffed. “No, no. I just—” He gestured vaguely at them. “I don’t personally believe in this… sort of thing.”

Charlie stiffened further.

Nick felt a flicker of rage in his chest.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. “Right. Well. That’s none of your business.”

Graham ignored him.

Instead, his eyes flickered to Charlie.

And then—he sneered.

Nick saw red.

“Poor child,” Graham muttered.

Nick froze.

Charlie’s breath hitched.

Sarah’s posture snapped upright.

Nick’s hands curled into fists. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Graham shrugged, eyes still locked onto Charlie. “That baby is going to grow up without a proper mother. And look at him—” He gestured at Charlie, sneering. “He looks like he can barely take care of himself.”

Charlie flinched.

Nick’s world imploded.

He saw Charlie’s face—saw the hurt flicker across his features, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to rearrange something, the way his jaw tightened as he swallowed whatever words had gotten caught in his throat.

Fix it, Nelson. BAD HUSBAND. Your Charlie is SAD.

Charlie didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, hands curled into the sleeves of his jumper.

And Nick?

Nick was seconds from committing actual murder.

“Oh, fuck you,” he snapped.

Graham rolled his eyes. “Typical. You people get so aggressive when someone states a simple truth.”

Sarah inhaled sharply. Oh, no.

Nick felt the shift in her posture before she even spoke.

But before Sarah could unleash hell, Nick stepped forward.

Because this was his fight.

His husband.

His Charlie.

His perfect Charlie—who was standing there, taking this, instead of arguing back like he usually would.

And that? That was unacceptable.

“You think this is unnatural?” Nick said, voice low, dangerous. “You think we are unnatural?”

Graham sneered. “Yes. It’s common sense.”

Nick laughed. A cold, humorless laugh. “Common sense,” he repeated. “Right. So you, what? Think a child is better off in the system than with a loving family?”

Graham huffed. “A child needs a mother.”

Nick’s entire body tensed.

He felt Charlie shift beside him—like he was trying to shrink himself down, to disappear.

Nick’s chest ached.

His Charlie—his world, his home, his entire fucking heart— was standing there, feeling like he had to justify himself to this piece of garbage.

Nick’s vision tunneled.

He inhaled sharply, then—

Nick’s shoulders squared. “Go on. Say that again.”

Graham shifted uneasily. “I—I was just saying—”

Nick cut him off. “No. You weren’t ‘just saying’ anything. You were insulting my husband. You were insulting the father of my son.”

Charlie’s eyes widened.

Sarah grinned like a proud mother bear.

Nick kept going. His voice was low, steady—deadly.

“You don’t know Charlie. You don’t know a thing about him. But let me educate you,” he said, stepping even closer.

Graham actually took a step back.

Nick’s tone didn’t waver. “Charlie is the strongest person I know. He’s been through more than you could ever understand, and he still gets up every day ready to face the world. He’s brilliant, successful, kind—and he is going to be the best damn father in the entire world.”

Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.

Nick’s voice shook with fury. “And if you think for one second that some bitter, pathetic, small-minded little man like you can make him feel less than what he is, then you clearly haven’t met my family.”

Graham blanched.

Nick, now practically radiating rage, clenched his fists. “So. If you ever—ever—speak about my husband like that again, I will make it my life’s mission to ruin your day, your week, and your entire fucking career.”

Graham gulped.

Nick wasn’t finished.

“You are going to go get what we came here for. You are going to ring us up. And you are going to do it silently before I call every manager in this godforsaken company and make sure you never work in customer service again.”

Graham nodded stiffly.

Nick’s breathing was ragged. His body shaking with rage.

And then—

Sarah, smiling sweetly, stepped in.

“Oh, Nicholas,” she cooed, patting his arm. “That was a wonderful speech.”

Nick, still vibrating with anger, exhaled sharply. “Thanks.”

Sarah beamed. “And now, if you don’t mind—”

Graham gawked. “I—”

Sarah did not let him speak.

“How dare you?” she snapped, voice still sickly sweet. “How dare you insult my boys in my presence? Are you delusional?”

Graham spluttered. “I—”

Sarah waved him off. “Shut up.”

Nick gasped again. “Oh my God.”

Charlie clutched Nick’s sleeve. “This is the greatest moment of my life.”

Sarah, still smiling, stepped closer to Graham, who visibly gulped.

“You think you can stand here and judge them?” she continued. “My son? My son-in-law? My grandbaby?”

Graham, looking visibly sweaty now, tried, “I was just saying—”

Sarah clapped her hands together once, sharply. “Oh, you were just saying?”

Graham flinched.

Sarah grinned. “Well, Graham, I am just saying that you are a pathetic, miserable, small-minded excuse for a man. And do you really think—really—that your irrelevant, prehistoric opinion is going to stop my boys from raising their son in a home overflowing with love?”

Graham stepped back.

Sarah stepped forward.

“I’ll tell you what, Graham,” she said sweetly. “Instead of standing here, embarrassing yourself, why don’t you go and fetch the thing we actually came here to buy before I destroy your entire day?”

Graham nodded furiously. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

And then he practically sprinted to the stockroom.

Nick, still fuming, turned back to Charlie. “Are you okay?”

Charlie blinked up at him, eyes a little glassy. “You just…” He swallowed. “You defended me so fast.”

Nick frowned deeply. “Of course I did. I should have done it sooner.”

Charlie squeezed his hand. “No. It was—” He took a shaky breath. “It was perfect.”

Sarah grinned, wiping her hands. “That was fun.”

Nick sighed. “Mum, I think you gave that man nightmares.”

Sarah smirked. “He deserved worse. No let’s get you a car seat”

Nick had never seen such an outrageous price tag in his entire life.

He grabbed Charlie’s arm, gasping dramatically. “Charlie.”

Charlie, also staring at the price tag, nodded grimly. “I know.”

Nick shook him slightly. “Charlie, it’s a hundred pounds.”

Charlie, equally distressed, whispered, “Nick, that’s more than half our rent.”

Sarah, completely unfazed, inspected the seat and nodded approvingly. “Oh, this is a good one.”

Nick wheeled on her. “Mum. It costs more than my life.”

Sarah waved him off. “It has safety features, Nicholas.”

Charlie, still mentally calculating their finances, muttered, “I… I think we need to get a second job.”

Nick groaned. “Or start a black market.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” And then—without hesitation—she pulled out her credit card.

Nick and Charlie both went still.

Nick’s eyes widened. “Mum—”

Sarah held up a hand. “No arguments. I’m getting it.”

Charlie frowned. “Sarah, we can’t let you—”

Sarah pointed aggressively. “Silence, my love.”

Charlie immediately shut up.

Sarah huffed, shoving the car seat toward the register. “I am the grandmother. I get to spoil my grandson. That is law.”

Nick whined. “Mum, please—”

Sarah spun dramatically. “ What kind of grandmother would I be if I didn’t buy him his first car seat?!”

Nick groaned loudly. “why are you like this?!”

Sarah turned to the cashier, slamming her card down. “Charge me immediately.”

Charlie, completely defeated, leaned into Nick. “She’s unstoppable.”

Nick sighed, watching in despair as Sarah gleefully made the purchase. “We can’t win.”

As they left the store, Sarah clutched the bag dramatically.

And then—suddenly—she froze.

Nick, sensing danger, stopped walking. “Mum?”

Sarah sniffled.

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

Charlie tensed. “Is she—?”

Sarah sniffled again and turned to them.

Her eyes were shiny.

“Oh my God,” Nick whispered. “She’s gonna cry.”

Sarah clutched her chest. “I can’t believe it.”

Nick, panicked, held up his hands. “Mum, please—”

Sarah shook her head, tears fully forming. “I’m going to be a grandmother.”

Charlie exhaled sharply, his own eyes softening.

Sarah sniffled dramatically. “A quite young, hot grandmother considering neither of you are even 25 yet.”

Nick groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Mum where is this side of your personality coming from?!.”

Sarah ignored him completely, turning to Charlie. “Charlie, my love, do you understand? I’m going to have a grandbaby.”

Charlie nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Sarah sniffled harder. “My perfect grandchild.”

Nick rubbed his temples. “Mum, you’ve known for hours.”

Sarah scoffed through her tears. “But now this makes it real!”

And then—before Nick could stop her—Sarah launched herself at them, pulling them both into a dramatic, bone-crushing hug.

Nick wheezed. “Mum—air—”

Sarah squeezed tighter. “I love you boys so much!”

Charlie, trapped, just chuckled. “We love you too, Sarah.”

Nick gasped. “Do we?!”

Sarah smacked the back of his head.

Nick groaned. “I’m kidding!”

Sarah sniffled again, finally releasing them. “Come on, boys.” She wiped her eyes and linked arms with them. “Let’s go home.”

Nick sighed. “Finally.”

Charlie chuckled. “Before she remembers something else to buy.”

Sarah gasped. “Oh! Actually—”

Nick yelped. “Nope! Get in the car!”

Sarah cackled, dragging them forward.

Because, truly—

There was nothing more powerful than Sarah Nelson-Spring in grandmother mode.

Chapter Text

Charlie sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, his diary, the one he wrote on a locked document in word, open, the dim lighting of Sarah’s guest room making everything feel weirdly cinematic.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before staring directly at the screen.

“Okay,” he started writing on, voice slightly unsteady. “So. It’s officially the last week before the adoption agency comes back for their final check. In two weeks, if everything goes well, we’ll have our son.”

He inhaled sharply, then forced a weak smile.

“And I am completely fine about it. Totally normal. Not freaking out. At all.”

Silence.

Charlie blinked.

Then he groaned and dropped his forehead into his hands.

“Oh my God, that was such a lie.”

He lifted his head again, scrubbing at his face.

“I am losing my mind, actually,” he admitted while typing, voice rising slightly. “Because this is real now. Colin is real. I mean, obviously, he’s been real this whole time, but now he’s—ours. We’re actually bringing him home.”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers anxiously against his knee.

“I feel like there are so many things I haven’t thought about yet. What if he gets sick? What if I forget something? What if I completely fail at this?”

A beat.

Then, softly—

“I keep thinking about my OCD.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’ve gotten better, but it’s still—it’s still there. And now I have to raise a child, and I just—what if I’m too much? What if I start obsessing over his meals or his routines or whether everything is safe? What if I accidentally make things harder for him?”

His voice cracked slightly.

“I want to be a good dad. I need to be a good dad.”

Charlie exhaled shakily, saving the document and closing the laptop at the same time a loud clatter rang through the house, followed by an aggressively British curse word.

Charlie flinched.

Oh yeah, Nick is stress-baking again.

Another bang.

“Okay,” Charlie muttered “Time to intervene before he burns down Sarah’s kitchen.”

🍂🍃🍂

Charlie walked into the kitchen and was immediately hit with the smell of caramelizing sugar, butter, and the unmistakable scent of a man on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Nick was hunched over the counter, aggressively assembling a Tarte Tatin , his arms tense and his face pure concentration.

Sarah, standing at the stove, looked delighted.

“Oh, Charlie, darling,” she said, not even looking up. “Your husband is having a moment.”

Nick huffed, not breaking his focus. “I am perfectly calm.”

Charlie squinted at him. “You’re aggressively caramelizing.”

Nick stabbed a slice of apple with too much force. “It’s called being prepared, Charlie.”

Sarah beamed. “Oh, I love when he gets like this. So productive.”

Nick grumbled. “I’m being very normal.”

Charlie crossed his arms. “You are baking angrily.”

Nick huffed. “I bake when I’m stressed, Charlie!”

Charlie, ignoring him, looked at Sarah. “And you’re just… letting this happen?”

Sarah shrugged, stirring something suspiciously alcoholic in a pot. “Of course, my love. It’s entertaining.”

Nick groaned, slamming the knife down. “I am going to be a father in two weeks!”

Charlie jumped.

Sarah grinned into her drink.

Nick threw his hands in the air. “I was a teenager five minutes ago, and now I’m stress-baking for a formal dinner with our parents, where we will announce that we are bringing an actual child into this world!”

Charlie snorted. “We’re adopting, not summoning him from the void, Nick.”

Nick whirled on him. “Same energy!”

Charlie sighed, stepping forward to physically restrain Nick from over-kneading the dough. “Okay, breathe, Mr. Domestic Goddess.”

Nick huffed, leaning against him dramatically.

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, what’s really bothering you?”

Nick hesitated.

Then, softly—

“…Do you remember I told you once, that, years ago, your dad gave me an embarrassing talk with his permission to…uh…be intimate with you?”

Charlie frowned. “Uh. Yeah? I thought you had vowed to never mention that again as it mortified you so much”

Nick winced. “Right. So, um. He also might have told me that he expected a bunch of grandchildren from us.”

Charlie blinked.

Nick licked his lips. “And he might have also said that if you weren’t glowing with joy by now, he would literally kill me.”

Charlie gawked. “What?!”

Nick let out a high-pitched laugh. “Yeah, so, um—honey? You better glow tonight, because I am not getting murdered by your father, who I love very much.”

Charlie stared. “I cannot believe he said that.”

Nick groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Neither can I, Charlie. Neither can I. Oh, by the way,” he said casually. “Do you think it’s too late to call for a Spanish traditional music band here?”

Charlie blinked.

Then—very quickly—he shook his head. “No. No, no, no. I don’t want to know. I refuse to know.”

Nick nodded, satisfied. “Fair.”

Before anyone could say anything else—

Sarah suddenly perked up, eyes sparkling.

“They’re here!”

Nick and Charlie froze.

Then—

The doorbell rang

The moment Sarah opened the door, there was a flurry of greetings, hugs, and overlapping voices as the Spring family spilled into the house like they belonged there.

And, honestly?

They kind of did.

After almost eight years of being together, Charlie and Nick’s families had seamlessly blended.

They vacationed together. Jane and Sarah regularly exchanged book recommendations. Julio and Nick had developed a weird father-in-law-to-son-in-law bond.

So, really, tonight was familiar territory.

Well. Except for the whole life-altering baby announcement looming in the background.

Sarah beamed as Jane stepped inside, shaking her head with a small, amused sigh.

“Sarah, you really didn’t have to go through all this,” Jane said, taking in the immaculate dinner spread already set up in the dining room. “It hasn’t even been a month since we were in Paris and you invited us for dinner there.”

Sarah waved her off. “Oh, don’t be silly, Jane! It’s a pleasure!” She turned to Julio. “Hi, Julio, darling.”

Julio, ever the effortlessly charming father figure, nodded warmly and held up a bottle of wine. “I brought the good stuff.”

Nick, standing beside Charlie, grinned. “Oh, so we’re getting drunk tonight?”

Julio chuckled. “Only if you deserve it, son.”

Nick choked on air.

Charlie snorted, patting his back.

Meanwhile, Olly had already sprinted past them, eyes wild with determination.

“NELLY? HENRY? WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Sarah laughed, stepping aside as the small tornado of energy disappeared down the hallway in search of her dogs.

Tori and Michael entered last, both of them clearly entertained by the chaos unfolding in real time.

Michael, ever the easygoing one, glanced at Nick’s clearly stressed face and patted his shoulder. “You look tense.”

Nick exhaled sharply. “You have no idea.”

Tori, crossing her arms, raised an eyebrow at both Nick and Charlie. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Charlie froze. “What?”

Tori narrowed her eyes. “You’re both being weird.”

Nick forced a laugh. “We are so normal, actually.”

Tori squinted. “Right.”

Sarah clapped her hands together, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Alright, everyone, make yourselves comfortable! Drinks? Snacks? We have everything.”

Julio handed Jane a glass of wine before taking a seat beside her, while Michael and Tori settled on the couch, immediately stealing the comfiest cushions.

Nick squeezed Charlie’s hand.

Charlie inhaled slowly.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

By the time everyone sat down at the beautifully set dinner table, the energy in the room had settled into comfortable conversation.

Julio and Sarah were discussing the merits of homemade pasta versus store-bought.

Jane and Michael were debating whether the wine actually paired well with the meal.

Tori was silently observing Nick and Charlie, clearly still convinced that something was up.

Little Olly, having successfully reunited with Sarah’s dogs, was happily feeding Henry scraps under the table.

Nick and Charlie, meanwhile, were trying to act normal.

Sarah, as always, was leading the conversation.

“So, Tori,” she said, sipping her wine. “How’s work treating you?”

Tori, ever the monotone queen, shrugged. “Fine.”

Michael, sitting beside her, smirked. “Translation: She’s thriving and recently got promoted.”

Sarah gasped. “A promotion?!”

Tori nodded. “Yeah.”

Sarah clapped her hands together. “Oh, another promotion, we must celebrate!”

Tori blinked. “We are celebrating.”

Sarah waved a hand. “Yes, yes, but we can celebrate more! I’ll plan a lunch.”

Tori exhaled sharply. “God, you’re worse than Nick.”

Nick perked up. “Hey!”

Tori gave him a look. “Be honest. Have you started planning Charlie’s next birthday already?”

Nick froze.

Charlie groaned. “Oh my God, Nick.”

Nick panicked. “It's good to be prepared..”

Tori rolled her eyes. “See?”

Sarah grinned, clearly thrilled to have another planner in the family.

Meanwhile, Jane, who had been enjoying her wine, set her glass down and smiled softly.

“So, Charlie,” she said, tilting her head. “How’s work been?”

Charlie, who had definitely not been expecting to be addressed so directly, flinched slightly.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s good.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Just ‘good’?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Yeah. I mean. Things have been a bit… busy lately.”

Nick, sensing danger, jumped in. “Yeah, Bloomsbury’s been keeping him on his toes.”

Julio nodded approvingly. “Youngest and fastest editor in chief in the last 20 years, right? I knew you would be a genius since the moment you popped out of your mother”

Charlie swallowed. “Uh, yeah, thanks dad.”

Michael, genuinely interested, asked, “What’s been the most interesting book you’ve worked on recently?”

Charlie blinked rapidly, trying to mentally adjust to the completely normal conversation happening around him.

“Oh, um—there was a memoir about old shipwrecks that was pretty fascinating,” he said. “Lots of deep-sea exploration history.”

Michael nodded. “Nice.”

Sarah, sensing the moment, leaned forward slightly.

“Well,” she said casually, “speaking of big changes…”

Nick and Charlie immediately tensed.

Oh. Oh no.

Here it comes.

Sarah, far too gracefully, swirled her wine glass before continuing.

“Nick and Charlie have been very busy lately.”

Jane perked up. “Oh?”

Tori’s eyes narrowed.

Julio raised an eyebrow.

Michael, oblivious, kept eating.

Little Olly poked his head up from under the table. “Can I have dessert yet?”

Sarah patted his head. “Soon, love.”

Then, very deliberately, she turned back to Nick and Charlie.

Nick took a deep breath.

Charlie also took a deep breath.

They were ready.

This was it. The moment.

Sarah had set it up perfectly—the entire table was now waiting for them to speak, all eyes fixed on them expectantly.

It was go time.

Nick glanced at Charlie. Charlie glanced at Nick.

And then—

Charlie opened his mouth.

“W—”

“Oh, wait!” Jane suddenly gasped, turning to Charlie. “Are you getting another raise?”

Charlie choked. “What?!”

Jane nodded, looking far too pleased. “Well, you’ve been doing so well at work lately, and they already gave you one, but maybe they realized you deserve more!”

Charlie blinked rapidly. “I—no, Mum, that’s not, it’s almost unbelievable I got escalated that quickly in the company, there is no way I’m going to get a raise for at least 10 years—”

Nick cleared his throat. “No, actually, what we were trying to say—”

“Oh my God,” Tori muttered, rubbing her temples. “They’re doing this so badly.”

Michael, watching the train wreck unfold, sipped his wine.

Julio, suddenly perking up, turned to Nick. “Wait, I know what this is!”

Nick paused. “Uh…”

Julio nodded firmly. “You’ve been scouted for an international rugby league.”

Nick stared.

Charlie wheeled around to face him. “You’ve what?!”

Nick whipped his head back to Julio. “I have not!”

Ollie, who had been kicking his feet happily under the table, suddenly gasped. “Wait, wait, is Nick joining the England team?!”

Nick threw his arms up. “No!”

Charlie, now invested, turned back to Nick. “Wait, why would Dad think that?”

Nick gestured wildly. “I have no idea, Charlie, you know now I only play with the lads on the weekends!”

Julio shrugged. “Well, you were good, son.”

Nick groaned loudly. “This is not about rugby”

Sarah, watching all of this like it was the most entertaining show she had ever seen, delicately cut a piece of chicken and smirked. “Oh, do go on, boys.”

Nick took another deep breath.

Charlie, still blinking at the rugby conversation, shook his head and refocused.

“Okay,” Charlie started, forcing himself back on track. “What we actually wanted to say—”

“Oh, God,” Tori muttered. “Here we go again.”

Nick squeezed Charlie’s hand under the table.

Charlie tensed slightly, then exhaled.

“We have some really big news,” Charlie continued.

Nick nodded, determined. “Yeah. It’s… well, it’s something we’ve been thinking about for a long time, and now it’s actually happening, and—”

“Wait.” Jane suddenly gasped again.

Charlie closed his eyes. “Mum, please.”

Jane turned to Sarah. “Are you two finally buying a house together?”

Nick visibly deflated. “Oh my God.”

Charlie groaned. “No, Mum!”

Julio perked up again. “Wait. Are you moving to Paris?”

Nick stared at him. “Why would we do that?!”

Julio shrugged. “It’s nice there, you are half French.”

Charlie dragged his hands down his face. “I am going to loose my mind”

Ollie perked up. “Wait, wait! Are you guys getting a pet dragon?!”

Nick, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Yes, Ollie. His name is Kevin.”

Ollie gasped in excitement. “No Way.”

Charlie threw his hands in the air. “ Why are we like this?!”

Michael, still sipping his wine, finally spoke. “You two are horrifically bad at making announcements.”

Sarah laughed into her glass. “Oh, I love this dinner.”

Nick launched into a long, convoluted speech.

“Okay, listen,” he started, waving his hands dramatically. “Charlie and I are at a point in our lives where we want to take the next step. And, as you all know, we’ve always been a unit—a team, if you will. And we’ve been thinking—deeply contemplating, actually—about what it means to expand that unit. To create something bigger than us—something that will last beyond us. Something that is both a challenge and a joy, a responsibility and a privilege. And, through careful consideration and a lot of preparation, we have finally—finally—decided to take this monumental, life-changing step into—”

Charlie cut him off, deadpan.

“Why don’t you let me say it, darling?”

Nick blinked. “What?”

Charlie gave him a pointed look. “Just… let me say it.”

Nick frowned. “Did I not make it clear?”

Charlie sighed. “I think you missed the point.”

Nick threw his arms up. “ well I don’t know how many things I have to say to announce we are having a baby!”

Silence.

Complete. Utter. Silence.

Ollie, still thinking about the dragon, mumbled, “Wait, Kevin’s a baby dragon?”

Nick groaned into his hands.

Charlie, who looked physically unwell, just stared at his family.

Julio blinked. “You’re—”

Jane stared.

Tori, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, just nodded. “Oh. That makes sense.”

Michael, looking genuinely shocked, blinked at Tori. “It does?!”

Tori shrugged. “They’ve been weird all night.”

Jane, still in processing mode, inhaled sharply.

Julio leaned forward. “You’re adopting?”

Nick nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

Sarah, grinning like a proud ringleader of this entire circus, clapped her hands. “Isn’t it wonderful?!”

Jane exhaled sharply. “Wow.”

Julio muttered, “Huh.”

Michael whispered, “I really thought it was about rugby.”

Charlie threw a bread roll at him.

Michael caught it. “Rude.”

Jane blinked rapidly, gripping the stem of her wine glass so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t snap. “A baby,” she repeated, her voice carefully measured, like she was testing the words out. “You’re having a baby.”

Nick, still riding the high of finally getting the words out, nodded furiously. “Yes.”

Julio, meanwhile, looked utterly dazed. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Then exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down his face. “A baby,” he whispered. “A baby.”

Charlie watched, mildly concerned, as Julio stared at the table, still whispering, “A baby.” under his breath, like he was trying to recalibrate his entire worldview.

Jane, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes. “You are not even twenty five.”

Charlie inhaled sharply. “Mum—”

“Not even twenty five,” she repeated, eyes darting between him and Nick. “That’s—”

Sarah, unhelpfully, sipped her wine. “Oh, darling, you were twenty-seven when you had Tori.”

Jane turned on her. “And it was far too young!”

Tori, unfazed, popped a grape into her mouth. “Love that for me.”

Michael, still holding the bread roll Charlie had thrown at him, whispered, “Should I leave?”

Jane ignored him, her focus laser-sharp on her son. “Charlie, a baby is—” She cut herself off, shaking her head slightly. “It’s—are you sure?”

Julio, meanwhile, was still mumbling, “A baby. A baby.”

Charlie exhaled slowly. Then, without hesitation, he reached under the table and took Nick’s hand.

Nick squeezed back.

Charlie looked at his parents, meeting their concerned stares head-on. “I know we’re young,” he said, his voice steady. “But a couple of minutes ago, you both sat here and talked about how well we’re doing in our lives. You said it yourselves—we’re thriving.”

Jane inhaled sharply, but didn’t interrupt.

Charlie continued. “We thought we were in a good place financially, we…” His fingers instinctively curled against Nick’s palm. Well. That wasn’t entirely true. Not anymore. After buying everything for Colin, their savings had taken a significant hit—far more than he’d anticipated. He and Nick were still fine, of course, but the past few weeks had been a wake-up call. Babies were expensive. Their entire budget had been thrown into chaos.

But that didn’t change the fundamental truth of it all.

Charlie inhaled, regaining his focus. “We’re ready,” he said firmly. “We’ve thought about this for a long time, and we’re ready to commit to it. To him.” He swallowed, holding his mother’s gaze. “I know it’s not common to find your soulmate at fourteen, but we did. And since then, we’ve built a life together. This is the next step for us.”

Julio, still gripping his own face, whispered, “A baby.”

Jane exhaled sharply.

The entire table waited.

Then, just as Nick was about to speak, Jane suddenly straightened in her chair, her expression shifting so rapidly it almost gave Charlie whiplash.

“Oh,” she gasped.

Then, softer—

“Oh, a baby.”

Then, completely out of nowhere, her face crumpled, and she burst into tears.

Charlie tensed. “Oh, God.”

Nick panicked. “Oh, God.”

Julio, still lost in the fog of his own emotions, gasped. “A baby!”

Sarah clapped her hands together. “Oh, wonderful!”

Then—

She burst into tears.

Charlie groaned. “Oh no.”

Jane, full-on sobbing now, whispered, “My baby is having a baby.”

Julio, still slightly dazed, shook his head. “I… Wow.”

His lips parted slightly.

And, after a long, stunned silence—

He whispered, “I’m going to be a granddad?”

Nick exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

Julio leaned back, eyes glistening.

Then—

Very softly—

“Dios mío.”

Charlie’s heart clenched.

Nick swallowed hard. “Is that—good?”

Julio laughed, watery and quiet. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

Charlie, suddenly emotional himself, muttered, “Dad…”

“I’m going to be a grandad?” he repeated, as if testing the words on his tongue.

Nick swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Julio leaned back, his eyes visibly glassy. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face, then let out a soft, stunned laugh.

Charlie’s chest tightened.

Nick bit the inside of his cheek, watching as Julio blinked away the sheer weight of the revelation.

For a moment, everything else—the laughter, the interruptions, the absolute chaos of the past ten minutes—disappeared.

It was just Julio, sitting at the dinner table, staring at his son and son-in-law with something so pure, so unshakably warm, that Charlie felt an uncomfortable pressure behind his own eyes.

Julio shook his head, voice thick. “When?”

Charlie’s throat caught. “What?”

Julio cleared his throat. “When is he coming home?”

Nick shifted, squeezing Charlie’s knee under the table. “If everything goes well with the final visit next week, we’ll be able to bring him home soon after. So—” He took a deep breath. “—in about two weeks.”

Julio blinked rapidly. “Two weeks?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

Julio pressed a hand over his heart, shaking his head with an almost disbelieving smile.

Nick hesitated, then—softly—“Do you… want to know his name?”

Julio exhaled sharply. “You already have one?”

Nick grinned. “He came with one.”

Charlie smiled, sitting up straighter. “His name is Nicolás.”

Julio froze.

Nick cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, so, we’re calling him Colin, because, you know, two Nicks in one house—”

Julio turned, grabbed Nick by the face, and kissed him square on the forehead.

Nick yelped. “Oh—”

Charlie blinked rapidly. “Dad—”

Julio sniffled, patting Nick’s cheek firmly. “You take care of my grandson, okay?”

Nick, fully overwhelmed, nodded quickly. “Yes. Sir. Absolutely.”

Sarah beamed, taking another sip of wine.

Tori, who had not cried in eight years, just nodded. “Wild.”

Ollie perked up again. “So no dragon?”

Charlie groaned. “No dragon, Olly.”

Ollie sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Jane, still crying, reached across the table to grab Charlie’s hand. “I am so proud of you.”

Charlie, immediately softening, squeezed her hand back. “Thanks, Mum.”

Then Julio took Charlie’s hand.

Nick, ever the overachiever, dropped another bombshell.

“Oh, by the way,” he said casually. “Colin is actually half Spanish.”

Julio’s breath hitched.

His eyes widened.

And then—

“¿¡What!?”

Nick flinched at the sudden burst of volume.

Julio pushed back his chair, his hands on his chest, looking at Charlie like he’d just told him he’d won the World Cup.

“Are you telling me you managed to adopt the possibly only Spanish baby in the whole England adoption system?!”

Nick, who had not been prepared for this level of emotional response, nodded quickly. “Uh—yeah! He is.”

Julio staggered back, gripping the table for support. “My fucking god…”

Charlie, feeling both fond and deeply overwhelmed, gave his father a look. “Dad, breathe.”

Julio ignored him.

“My grandson,” he whispered, shaking his head. “He is one of us.”

Nick, nodding enthusiastically, added, “Yep! And he even looks a bit like you, actually.”

Julio made a sound.

A very emotional, slightly broken, deeply sentimental sound.

Then—

He turned back to Sarah.

“Sarah,” he said, dead serious. “We need to buy him a Spain jersey immediately.”

Sarah, delighted, nodded. “Oh, when we go to meet him we can pass to a mall to buy something things.”

Julio wiped a tear from his cheek. “You are a saint.”

Charlie groaned, rubbing his temples. “Dad, please.”

But Julio was still not done.

Because now he was pacing.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, thinking deeply. “This is good. This is very good. This is only the beginning.”

Nick, who had no idea what that meant, hesitantly asked, “Uh… the beginning of what?”

Julio waved his hands dramatically. “The rest, of course.”

Charlie stared. “The rest?”

Julio nodded firmly. “Yes. The rest of my grandkids.”

Charlie almost fell out of his chair.

Nick choked on air.

Sarah, thrilled, sipped her wine.

Charlie, not thrilled, panicked. “Dad. We are starting with Colin.”

Julio huffed. “Fine, fine, for now.”

Nick looked at Charlie in horror. “Charlie, he’s planning for more.”

Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together, now officially in business mode. “So, five or six.”

Charlie, rubbing his temples, groaned. “Dad, we’ve been over this.”

Julio waved him off. “Yes, yes, but five or six is a reasonable number.”

Nick blinked rapidly. “FOR WHAT?!”

Julio turned to him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For my grandkids.”

Nick’s soul left his body.

Charlie, deeply exhausted, muttered, “Nick, we should be grateful neither of us has a womb.”

Nick frowned. “What?”

Charlie sighed dramatically, flopping back against the chair. “Because if we did, I am certain Dad would have found a way to get us pregnant since we were eighteen.”

Julio nodded sagely. “It’s true, it’s not that difficult to pass a needle through a pack of preservatives.”

Nick’s entire body locked up. “What do you mean, ‘It’s true’?”

Julio shrugged. “You two are responsible, emotionally stable, and clearly very in love. Why wouldn’t I want lots of grandchildren?”

Charlie threw up his hands. “Dad, we are starting with Colin.”

Julio huffed and repeated. “For now.”

Nick turned to Sarah, frantic. “Mum, say something. Please.”

Sarah sipped her wine, completely unfazed. “Oh, I completely agree with Julio.”

Nick choked. “What?!”

Sarah beamed. “Darling, why stop at one?”

Charlie groaned loudly. “Oh my god, stop conspiring.”

Jane sighed dreamily. “Oh, imagine Christmas with five or six of them running around.”

Nick turned to Charlie in full panic. “Charlie. They’re teaming up.”

Charlie dragged a hand down his face. “Nick, we cannot win.”

Nick held up a finger. “One, child, at, a, time.”

Julio sighed, looking deeply disappointed. “Fine.”

Charlie, exhaling in relief, whispered, “I’ll take that as a victory.”

Nick, shaken and possibly now permanently paranoid about an ambush adoption plot, muttered, “I need another drink.”

Jane sighed. “Have you at least started planning?”

Nick, visibly sweating, laughed nervously. “So, funny story—”

Charlie winced.

Nick continued, “…We actually weren’t expecting to have everything happen so fast, and then Sarah found out and kind of—”

Charlie groaned. “She steamrolled us.”

Jane whipped around to Sarah. “You what?!”

Sarah beamed. “I was helpful.”

Jane gasped. “You’ve already started buying things?!”

Nick dragged his hands down his face. “Oh, Jane, you have no idea.”

Jane clutched her chest. “Oh, Charlie. I missed this.”

Charlie groaned. “Mum, I—”

Sarah cut in brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. We haven’t really bought all of it.”

Nick’s stomach dropped. “Mother.”

Sarah smiled serenely. “Don’t worry, darling. When the baby is here, we’ll all go on a big shopping spree together.”

Nick clutched his chest. “I am serious, we need to pay the rent this month.”

Jane perked up. “Oh, wonderful! That means I can be involved.”

Charlie groaned. “Oh God.”

Nick, somehow still standing despite being emotionally and financially ruined, suddenly turned to Olly with a bright, excited grin.

“Olly!” he said, cheerfully.

Olly blinked. “Huh?”

Nick leaned forward, voice almost sing-song. “Do you know what this means?”

Olly frowned slightly, thinking. “That… we’re getting a baby?”

Nick nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And do you know what that makes you?”

Olly paused.

Then—

Nick grinned wider. “It means you’re going to be an uncle.”

Silence.

Then—

Ollie gasped so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

“Oh my god.”

Everyone flinched.

Ollie clutched his chest.

“I’m.”gonna be an uncle

Nick beamed. “You are, buddy.”

Ollie screamed in delight. “That’s so cool!”

Julio, still teary-eyed, ruffled Ollie’s hair fondly. “That’s right, champ.”

Ollie gasped again, whipping his head to Tori. “Wait, that means—”

Tori, who had been completely uninvested up until now, blinked.

Then—

Realization.

Her mouth parted slightly.

“Oh,” she muttered. “So I’m an aunt now.”

Nick swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Tori nodded once.

A long pause.

Then, suddenly—

“…that is fine.”

Nick, shaken and possibly now permanently paranoid about an ambush adoption plot, muttered, “I need another drink.”

Chapter Text

It was the final week.

The final week.

Seven days until Colin—their son—came home. Their flat had turned into the epicenter of a nervous earthquake, the eye of a baby-preparation hurricane. Every single family member, whether invited or not, had taken residence in the space like it was a war zone, and Colin was the tiny general whose impending arrival required total mobilization.

There was no warning.

Nick had just stepped out of the bathroom—barefoot, hair damp, towel over one shoulder—when the intercom rang.

He glanced at the clock. 11:06 a.m. That was suspicious in itself. No one decent rang before noon on a weekend.

Charlie, curled up on the sofa in a hoodie, squinted over his glasses. “Who is it?”

Nick shrugged, padding over. “Maybe a package.”

Nick opened the front door and immediately regretted it.

“Hello son!” came Julio’s booming voice before Nick could even blink. The man stepped inside like a hurricane in a leather jacket, dragging a toolbox behind him that looked like it could perform open-heart surgery. Right on his heels was Jane, clutching two giant shopping bags, already peering at the floor with thinly veiled judgment.

Sarah appeared behind them, gracefully balancing a basket of folded baby clothes. And barreling in last came Olly.

Charlie appeared in the hallway like a man who had just woken up in the middle of a battlefield. “Nick… they’re here.”

“Yes,” Nick said faintly. “Yes, they are.”

Within minutes, the flat was no longer their home. It was a mission site. A multi-front operation. And each family member had apparently been assigned a job… by themselves.

“NICK!” Julio shouted from the guest room. “Get in here. I need your hands and your height.”

Nick looked to Charlie for help. Charlie, still sitting stunned on the sofa, looked back at him and tried not to laugh.

“You have to admit,” Charlie said, “this is sort of… impressive.”

Nick clutched the towel still hanging off his shoulder. “I was going to clean the floors. And then eat. And shave. I have whiskers in one side and conditioner on the other!”

Jane, already in the kitchen, peered into their tea towel drawer and clicked her tongue. “Is this how you fold these? Is this even legal?”

“I don’t think—wait, what are you doing?” Nick stepped in after her.

“Cleaning,” Jane said. “Obviously. You’ve let this place fall into a state.”

“We vacuumed yesterday!”

“And yet I can see dust.”

In the hallway, Olly ran past holding a rubber sword. “Can I have Colin’s room as my office if he doesn’t like it?”

“No!”

Charlie finally stood, rubbing his eyes. “I think I might still be dreaming.”

But the dream—or the nightmare—was very real.

Julio had unpacked the entire contents of his toolbox into a neat, color-coded grid on the floor and was now laying out planks with a focus that belonged in a war movie. “Cradle must be secure. Must support toddler weight. And adult weight, if necessary.”

“Why would that ever be necessary—?” Nick tried.

“Safety drills!” Julio snapped.

Nick opened his mouth. Closed it again.

With the efficiency of a construction foreman, Julio pointed to the wall. “You—level this. I’ll drill. We start from the base.”

Nick looked at Charlie, who was now standing beside Sarah, both of them arms-deep in folded onesies. His husband was laughing—quietly, under his breath, trying to hide it—but he was definitely laughing.

Charlie looked over, eyes sparkling. “Go on, babe. I will Let you men work.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Nick accused.

Charlie grinned. “A little.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Jane was muttering over the contents of the fridge. “There are four different kinds of mustard in here. Why? Who needs this many?”

Nick, now carrying a wooden plank under one arm and a level in the other, shouted, “Charlie! Tell your mother to leave our condiments alone!”

“She’s just going to ignore me!”

“She’s touching the chutney, Charlie!”

Sarah patted his shoulder as she passed. “Don’t worry, darling. By the time we’re done, this place will sparkle. And you’ll have a perfectly ready nursery.”

So while Nick and Julio mumbled over the cradle , in the baby’s future room, Sarah and Charlie had entered full organizational warfare. The two of them stood knee-deep in tiny onesies, socks the size of grapes, and labeled baskets that made Nick’s head hurt.

Charlie was in hyper-focus mode, folding baby towels with the precision of a monk assembling sacred scrolls.

“Charlie,” Sarah said softly, holding up two identical outfits, “What do you think? The teddy bears or the foxes for the first night?”

Charlie looked up, narrowed his eyes like he was deciphering ancient runes, and then said very seriously, “Foxes. He loves his stuffed fox apparently.”

Sarah beamed. “Knew it.”

In the kitchen, Jane had gone absolutely feral. No surface had escaped her wrath. She scrubbed the counter with the intensity of a woman auditioning for a cleaning product commercial and kept muttering things like, “Babies lick everything,” and “What if he crawls directly into a crumb?”

Charlie had tried to explain that newborns don’t crawl, but Jane was too far gone.

At one point, she sprayed a full bottle of disinfectant directly into the toaster.

Nick, sweat-drenched and still holding a power drill he no longer trusted, poked his head in. “Is she okay?”

Charlie just shook his head. “She brought her own mop.”

“Oh God.”

“And gloves.”

Nick blinked. “Like rubber gloves?”

“No. Like… gardening gloves. She said she needed grip.”

Nick stared in horror as Jane knelt on the floor with surgical focus, scrubbing the grouting between tiles with a toothbrush she had not brought from their bathroom.

Little Olly was the only one truly thriving. He zoomed around the flat with Henry and Nelly at his heels, wearing a knight costume and announcing to anyone who would listen that he was preparing the castle for Prince Colin, First of His Name, Ruler of Milk and Naps.

Nick, standing in the middle of the chaos once they finished, almost 8 hours later looked at the room—at the family scattered across the furniture, at Olly snoring on the rug in a dragon onesie, at Sarah sipping tea with her feet up, at Jane still trying to scrub an invisible stain on the baseboard—and clapped his hands once.

“Okay,” he said with the delicate tone of someone trying not to offend a wild animal. “Thank you all so much. Really. You’ve all been… intense. And helpful. And intense. But I think—” he glanced at Charlie, who nodded, looking just as overwhelmed, “—it’s time to leave.”

Jane straightened. “But—”

Then came the high-pitched ding of Charlie’s phone.

“Oh!” he said brightly. “Just got the confirmation from the agency!”

Nick’s face drained a little, then lit up, then crumpled again. “She’s bringing him here?”

Charlie nodded. “First supervised visit. She’ll want to see the nursery, the common areas, the routines we are preparing, check everything is place for next Sunday when Colin arrives here”

“Oh!” Jane gasped. “Maybe we could stay over!”

“Yes, yes!” Sarah agreed, as if they’d just been invited to a royal gala. “It would show how supported they are. Strong family network!”

Julio, who had just emerged from the nursery drenched in sweat and sawdust, pointed a finger. “Compromised family! Strong family! We stand like pillars.”

“I think you mean committed,” Charlie murmured.

“No, I don’t, hijo.”

Nick stared at them. Stay over? STAY OVER?

“No,” he said immediately, like it was a prayer. “No no no no no.”

“Just to be there in the background!” Jane said, bustling into the living room with a throw pillow she had fluffed within an inch of its life.

“Background of what? The evaluation?!” Nick’s voice cracked. “What do you want to do—pop out from behind the changing table like ‘surprise! We vacuumed!’”

Charlie, now actively giggling, tried to hide it behind a baby blanket.

“Just to show,” Sarah said gently, “that Colin has a whole tribe behind him.”

“Tribes don’t stay the night, Sarah!” Nick barked.

“Some do,” Julio muttered. “In tents.”

“There will be no tents!”

Nick was reaching the end of his rope. The sweat on his back had turned cold. His hands smelled like disinfectant and fear. Charlie’s laughter was not helping.

He looked around—at the disaster zone of baby supplies, the faint smell of bleach, the tiny socks, the four adults arguing over drawer liners—and knew that if they didn’t leave now, he’d be discovered in a pile of nappies by morning, gently sobbing into a stuffed otter.

He clapped his hands once, as brightly and tightly as he could manage

“Leave,” Nick said more firmly, smiling in the way only a man on the edge could. “With love. But leave.”

Julio squinted. “What about the shelf I wanted to—?”

“Out.”

Sarah, who had clearly expected this moment, stood gracefully and began shepherding her wine glass toward the coat rack. “Come on, everyone. Let’s give the boys a moment of peace before their entire lives change.”

Jane sighed and stood, dramatically placing her rubber gloves into her Mary Poppins-style handbag.

Charlie reached out and took her hand gently. “Thanks, Mum. Really. You’ve done… a lot.”

Jane sniffled. “I just want everything to be perfect for my grandson.”

Nick didn’t say a word, but he did lock the door the moment the last person crossed the threshold.

He turned back to Charlie. “We’re never inviting them all at once again.”

Charlie nodded solemnly. “Not even for Christmas.”

“Not even for a funeral.”

They stood there for a long moment, watching the newly silent flat. It smelled like lemon-scented cleaner and baby powder and stress.

Charlie looked at the cradle and whispered, “Seven days.”

Nick stepped beside him. “And tomorrow a full day with baby Colin, You think we’re ready?”

Charlie took a breath.

“No.”

Nick laughed softly. “Same.”

The Morning After

The flat was quiet.

The kind of quiet that comes only after a storm—when all the mop buckets have been emptied, the power drills have been stored away, and not a single relative is hiding under the kitchen table. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, golden and gentle, casting long shadows across the living room. It was a different flat now. Calmer. Warmer. Smelling faintly of lemon cleaner and baby lotion.

Nick and Charlie sat across from each other at the kitchen table, bowls of cereal in front of them, spoons clinking gently in a hush that neither of them felt ready to break.

Charlie’s hair was tousled from sleep, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to the elbows. Nick was still in his pajama bottoms and a sleep shirt with a faint toothpaste stain. The cereal was going soggy.

Neither had touched their coffee.

“Do you think we did enough?” Charlie asked finally, his voice quiet.

Nick blinked out of his cereal trance. “What?”

“For the inspection,” Charlie said, poking a cornflake. “I mean, everything looks good, right? We baby-proofed. We organized. There are baskets. Labeled baskets.”

Nick chuckled, though the sound came out stiff. “Charlie, your mother nearly broke into the walls with a mop. If this place isn’t clean enough, nothing ever will be.”

Charlie gave a soft smile. “True.”

They ate in silence a little longer, the kind that wrapped around them like a weighted blanket—comfortable but heavy. There was excitement there, for sure. But it sat tightly knotted around their nerves, and neither of them could seem to untangle it with words just yet.

Eventually, they stood from the table and went about getting dressed.

Nick, of course, was the first to panic.

He pulled a hoodie over his head, then yanked it off again. Then a sweatshirt. Then joggers. Then cargo trousers. He stared into the wardrobe like it had personally insulted him.

“Do you think I should wear something more formal?” he asked suddenly, poking his head into the bedroom where Charlie was calmly pulling on a t-shirt. “Maybe they don’t expect me to be in joggers and a sweatshirt. I mean… what if they think I’m not taking it seriously? What if they expect, like, business casual? Are baby inspections a business casual event?!”

Charlie looked up, his expression fond and amused.

He crossed the room, kissed Nick softly on the cheek, and said, “Love, we’re spending a whole day with the baby. Even though we are supervised, I think comfortable clothes are the best. Also—to show them normality in our house. We do not go in suits in our house.”

Nick sighed and leaned his forehead dramatically against Charlie’s.

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

“You’re so calm.”

Charlie laughed nervously. “I’m not. I’ve been trying to remember if we left the toilet paper roll going the right way for the past hour.”

They got dressed, folded the duvet with reverence, and straightened every pillow on the sofa at least three times. Then they sat. Waiting.

And waiting.

To distract themselves, they pulled out the Nintendo Switch and started a game of Mario Kart. It was frantic and brightly colored and gave them something to focus on that wasn’t the pressure crushing their insides. Charlie picked Yoshi. Nick picked Donkey Kong, as always. They played three rounds and only crashed into each other fifteen times.

Nick was mid-blue-shell when the intercom rang.

He screamed. Actually screamed. The blue shell missed.

“THEY’RE HERE!” he shouted, launching off the couch and knocking a pillow onto the floor. “OH MY GOD, THEY’RE HERE!”

Charlie fumbled the controller and looked wildly around the room as if he had to hide evidence of a crime. “Okay—okay, okay, deep breaths. We’ve got this.”

“No, we don’t. My palms are sweating. My hoodie is sticking to me. What if I smell like stress?”

Charlie grabbed his hand, grounding them both.

“Okay, love,” he said, voice steady but his other hand visibly shaking, “Let’s get them impressed.”

Nick looked at him—at his nervous smile and ruffled hair and the way his eyes were already a little glassy from emotion—and he surged forward and kissed him, right there in the hallway, mouths warm and familiar and new all at once.

Then he pulled back and grinned.

“Let’s show them we are the hottest, young, best couple in all of England.”

Charlie laughed softly. “Ambitious.”

“We are.”

And with that, they pressed the buzzer.

The door clicked open with a soft buzz, and when Nick pulled it open, they were greeted with a scene straight out of a brochure—if brochures came with heart palpitations.

Standing there was a warm-looking woman in her mid-forties, clipboard in one hand, a few papers tucked under her arm, and in her other arm…

Little Colin.

He was nestled snugly against her side, clinging to a stuffed fox like it was the most important object in the known universe. His dark curls were slightly flattened on one side, his tiny socks mismatched, and his entire face lit up when he saw Nick and Charlie in the doorway.

“Good morning,” the social assistant greeted, voice cheerful and professional but not cold. She had that calm energy of someone who had already survived many a meltdown and diaper emergency.

“Good morning!” Nick and Charlie said at the same time—too fast, too loud, too in sync. Like a nervous a cappella group.

Colin burst out laughing. A high-pitched, delighted giggle that made Nick nearly combust.

“Hello!” Nick blurted at the baby, then looked at the social worker. “Sorry—I mean, hello. I mean—yes. Please. Come in. Welcome. You’re… yes.”

“May we enter?” she asked kindly, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Of course, of course! You’re in your own home,” Charlie said with a stiff, very formal nod.

“Yes,” Nick added, moving aside like he was holding the gates of Buckingham Palace. “Your home is our home—our home is your home—I mean, you’re welcome—just—inside. Please. Yes.”

She stepped in gracefully, baby on hip, clipboard under control, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Would you like a coffee?” Nick said quickly, already halfway to the kitchen. “Or tea? Or chocolate? I think we have hot chocolate. Do you want a pastry? We have some. Actually, do you want a glass of wine? No. Not wine. It’s early. Or a beer. I can do a beer. But again—not implying you drink. I just—options. I have a lot of options. Please.”

The woman laughed. “No, thank you so much, really. I’m alright.”

Nick stopped mid-step. “Okay. Great. Good. That’s perfect. Just wanted you to feel—hydrated.”

She turned to the couch. “Would you mind if we sat down there? I have to get a few things prepared.”

“Of course! Absolutely!” Charlie said, guiding her gently toward the sofa.

Nick nodded too fast. “It’s the best seat in the house. Has… cushions.”

She settled on the couch with the grace of someone entirely used to chaos, gently setting her clipboard on the coffee table and leaning slightly forward to ease little Colin to the floor.

Colin, without hesitation, flopped forward and began crawling across the living room floor like a determined explorer who had just spotted new land. He clutched his stuffed fox like a sacred relic and made little “ah!” noises as he moved, inspecting the furniture, the edge of the rug, the mysterious texture of a slipper.

Nick and Charlie stood frozen for a moment, watching him like he was the most precious, ancient artifact in the British Museum.

“Is it okay if he stays on the floor if he wants?” Charlie asked gently, glancing back at the social assistant.

She smiled, adjusting her clipboard. “Do you have it clean?”

Charlie nodded. “We spent the whole week making sure. We vacuumed like five times yesterday.”

“I can tell,” she said with a soft laugh. “Yes, that’s perfectly fine. I can see that you’ve baby-proofed everything. I’m sure Colin will want to explore.”

As if on cue, Colin crawled directly toward the console table, discovered the rubber corner protectors, and gave them a good, suspicious poke.

Charlie and Nick stood side by side, watching him with reverence. Nick leaned slightly toward Charlie and whispered, “I’m going to cry. I can feel it. It’s right here. Behind my eyeballs. Like a flood.”

Charlie nodded, eyes still locked on Colin. “Yeah. Same.”

Charlie kept an eye on him while also trying to remain composed as Ms. Bennett continued making notes on her clipboard. Her pen scratched softly against paper while her gaze moved between the baby and the room itself.

“It’s good to see how relaxed he is here already,” she said, eyes crinkling with a soft smile. “He’s definitely curious. That’s always a good sign.”

Nick sat upright, his knees bouncing slightly, hands knotted together like he was trying to wring out his own nerves. “He’s just so small,” he whispered, in awe, watching Colin attempt to open the small cabinet door (securely baby-locked). “And yet somehow he’s got the energy of a thousand suns.”

Ms. Bennett looked up again. “So—while I let him get to know the space, I’d love to ask you a few things about how you’re organizing yourselves for the coming months. I know we’ve gone over some of this, but it’s good to check in as we get closer to the final stage.”

“Of course,” Charlie said, sitting up a little straighter. “We’ve arranged our work leaves in accordance with the adoption guidelines. Since we have a right to take time off, I’ll be staying home full-time for the first few months. I’m a public editor, so after that, I’ll transition to working from home.”

Nick jumped in, eyes wide. “I would love to be home full-time, too, just—completely immersed in this baby magic—”

Charlie gave him a sideways glance.

“I mean, chaos,” Nick corrected himself. “This baby chaos. Joyful, exhausting chaos.”

“But Nick teaches primary,” Charlie continued gently. “And his school’s been amazing, but he didn’t want to leave his classroom. The kids adore him.”

Nick sighed dramatically, placing a hand to his chest. “I mean, they do. And I love them too much to just disappear. I promised them I’d be back, and I will be. But we’ve managed a very clear schedule. I’ll be home in the afternoons. We’ll juggle it. And we’re starting to look into nurseries for Colin as well. Slowly.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your homework,” Ms. Bennett said, jotting a note with a satisfied nod. “You’re approaching this with structure, which is important. And, honestly, October is a great time to settle in—it gives you the whole season to adjust.”

Charlie nodded. “We were talking about that just yesterday. We can spend autumn indoors, getting to know each other.”

Ms. Bennett smiled kindly and went on, “You’ve been in this process for almost six months now. I know it may feel like it all happened quickly, especially now that we’re nearly there. But the truth is, those first five months were mostly paperwork, bureaucracy, and assessments.”

Charlie gave a small smile. “Yeah. It was… a lot of paperwork.”

“And then just about a month ago,” she continued, flipping to the next page, “you received the call—Charlie, I believe?—saying you’d been officially approved for placement.”

Charlie nodded. “Yes. I was at work and almost fainted, I couldn’t wait to tell Nick, although I finnally surprised him in a little trip we did to Paris last month.”

“Timing is everything,” Ms. Bennett said, smiling brightly. “I do remember the call, though. You sounded very calm, Charlie.”

“I was not,” Charlie said.

Ms. Bennett chuckled as she flipped to the final section of her paperwork. “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot of placements. Some families are still building shelves on inspection day. You’re ahead of the curve.”

Colin let out a squeal from under the dining table and banged his fox against the leg of a chair. Then, with a determined grunt, he began crawling toward the kitchen, which had a baby gate firmly in place. He bumped into it, considered it deeply, then licked it.

Ms. Bennett raised her pen like a conductor. “That’s a good sign. Tasting the environment means he feels safe.”

“Or he’s trying to claim territory,” Nick said in a whisper. “Like a cat.”

Charlie turned to Ms. Bennett with a patient smile. “I can assure you that despite my husband’s…nervousness, We’re very serious parents.”

“Oh, I can tell,” she said with a kind, knowing look. “And that’s exactly what he needs.”

Ms. Bennett gently closed her clipboard and smiled. “Would it be alright if I took a look at the nursery now?”

“Of course,” Charlie said immediately, already rising from the sofa. Nick hopped up as well, bumping his knee on the coffee table and letting out a silent scream as he grabbed it.

Charlie glanced down at Colin, who was still sitting contentedly on the carpet, squishing his fox’s tail against his cheek.

“Do you want to come with me, Colin?” Charlie asked softly, crouching down and extending his arms.

Colin looked up.

There was a long beat, filled with the kind of tension reserved only for trying to communicate with toddlers. Colin blinked at Charlie… and then, very slowly, his chubby little hand reached out.

He toddled over on unsteady feet, placed his hand into Charlie’s, and allowed himself to be scooped up in a gentle cuddle.

Nick made a sound.

It wasn’t a word, not quite. It was more of a strangled gasp—somewhere between oh God and this is too much. His entire soul melted in real-time as he watched Charlie rest Colin against his chest, one hand supporting the baby’s back while the other gently held his small thigh. Colin burrowed in a little, cheek pressed to Charlie’s shoulder.

Nick nearly fell to his knees.

He grabbed the wall for support and let out a whisper under his breath: “Oh no, he’s hot.”

Ms. Bennett didn’t seem to notice, but Charlie did—he gave Nick a warning look and mouthed behave. Nick mouthed back can’t and then pinched his own cheek to bring himself back to Earth.

They made their way down the short hallway, the flat still filled with soft light. When they entered the nursery, the warm glow of the morning caught on the soft blues and creams of the room. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was gentle and loving—everything from the mobile of handmade clouds above the crib to the neatly arranged books on the low shelf said: this was made for you.

Colin looked around, eyes wide, and let out a little coo of wonder.

“Well,” Ms. Bennett said with real warmth, “this is lovely.”

Charlie beamed, still holding Colin. “We wanted it to be simple, but cozy. Somewhere he can grow into.”

Nick stepped beside them, visibly fighting the urge to scream with affection. “We got a bit obsessive. My mother helped us—Charlie’s mum too. I think we spent a whole evening arguing over cloud-themed bedding versus woodland creatures.”

“Clouds won,” Charlie murmured, stroking Colin’s back. “He seems to like them.”

Colin reached one tiny hand out toward the mobile.

Charlie grinned. “Do you want to see your room, darling?” he asked the baby in a soft, sing-song voice. “Look, this is your little shelf, your tepee, and that’s your bed, and we have books for you—see the fox? Just like your fox!”

He knelt with Colin in front of the shelf and started showing him the soft blocks and board books. Colin was fascinated. He tried to grab The Very Hungry Caterpillar and immediately attempted to chew the corner.

“He’s got good taste,” Nick offered, hands on his hips. “Classic literature.”

Ms. Bennett chuckled, walking slowly around the room. She made a few quiet notes, opened and closed a drawer, checked the baby monitor, the safety rail, and nodded. “Everything is in excellent order. And you’ve clearly made it his space, not just a spare room.”

Charlie stood again, still holding Colin as the baby gnawed gently on the book, and gave a little shrug. “It already is his space. He just hasn’t lived in it yet.”

Nick—oh, poor Nick—was gone.

He leaned against the doorframe, biting his knuckle, blinking furiously. “You’re— you’re too powerful,” he muttered toward Charlie. “You’re, like, ultimate husband mode right now. With the soft voice and the baby in your arms—it’s not fair.”

Ms. Bennett glanced back with a grin. “He’s right, though. This is very natural. You’re both doing wonderfully.”

Charlie glanced at Nick with a smirk. “You hear that? We’re doing wonderfully.”

Nick beamed. “Wait till she sees the alphabet magnets we bought”

Ms. Bennett laughed. “I look forward to it.”

And all the while, little Colin gurgled and giggled in Charlie’s arms, clutching his book and pointing toward the cloudy mobile above—slowly, steadily becoming part of this soft, loving space they’d built just for him.

Chapter Text

“Observed Family Dynamics in the Preliminary Placement Visit – October 3rd”

Upon arrival, I was greeted at the door by both prospective adoptive parents: Mr. Nicholas Nelson Spring and Mr. Charles Nelson Spring (Will go by their maiden names to avoid confusion). Both were appropriately dressed for the occasion—Mr. Nelson in joggers and a sweatshirt he appeared to be deeply regretting, and Mr. Spring in an oversized jumper that gave off the distinct energy of a man doing his very best to hold it together. Which he did. Admirably.

Mr. Nelson immediately offered me what I believe was an entire café menu, plus alcohol, some of which I suspect was still leftover from their trip to Paris. I declined. He offered again. I declined again. He then attempted to give me a pastry “for strength.”

Once seated, I was able to begin the home assessment while Mr. Spring asked politely if it was alright for the child, Colin, to remain crawling freely on the floor with his stuffed fox. The floors were clean. The house was baby-proofed. I had no concerns.

Over the course of the visit, I observed Mr.Nelson attempt to discreetly weep no less than five times. At one point, while Mr.Spring held Colin and read him a book, Mr.Nelson turned to the wall, pretended to examine a photo frame, and whispered, “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” (The photo was of them in a pumpkin patch. The baby was not in it.)

Colin explored the home with curiosity and comfort. He did not appear distressed at any time, and I noted several spontaneous gestures of affection between the child and both prospective parents.

Notable highlights include:

•Mr. Spring singing the Bluey theme song in Spanish (I do not believe Colin speaks Spanish, but he seemed intrigued, as suspected, the fact of Mr.Spring being half Spanish himself is a bonus that will help the child to know his culture ).

•Mr. Nelson building an ambitious pillow fort, which promptly collapsed on top of him and the child, resulting in peals of laughter from all parties.

•A dramatic moment in which Colin, somehow, got a Cheerio up his nose. Mr. Spring handled this with surgical grace. Mr. Nelson screamed, “HE’S CHOKING THROUGH HIS FACE!” and then apologized to the Cheerio for the trauma.

At the conclusion of the visit, I asked if they felt ready.

Mr. Nelson stood, raised both fists in the air, and said: “We have succeeded, my love. Like winners of a baby-themed Olympics.”

Mr. Spring added, “We’re terrified. But… very happy.”

The flat was silent, save for the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic ticking of the old clock in the hallway. Nick and Charlie lay in bed together, limbs tangled under the covers, the warm October breeze whispering through the open window.

Charlie was curled into Nick’s chest, one arm draped across his stomach, his thumb absently stroking the hem of Nick’s sleep shirt.

“…We did it,” Nick whispered.

Charlie gave a soft hum, not quite a word.

“I mean,” Nick continued, shifting a little so he could kiss the top of Charlie’s curls, “we succeeded, obviously. Gold medal in parenting. Cheerio crisis averted. Baby didn’t cry once. I only screamed three times. That’s a record.”

“You screamed four times.”

“Okay, but one was at myself for almost sitting on the plush giraffe.”

Charlie smiled against his chest. “And the one where you thought he’d swallowed the fox.”

“It looked like he did! It was just the angle!”

They fell into a quiet laugh together, the soft, half-delirious laughter that only comes from exhaustion and joy, and maybe a sugar crash from toddler snack testing.

Then, after a moment, Charlie said softly, “Next week, he’s here. For good.”

Nick’s breath caught slightly. “Yeah.”

They lay in silence again.

Charlie turned a little to face him, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Are you scared?”

Nick nodded, his expression unguarded. “Absolutely terrified.”

Charlie kissed his chest, right over his heart. “Me too.”

“But also… I feel like this is it,” Nick said, voice thick. “Like this is where we’re supposed to be. Like, all those years ago, when I thought I just wanted to kiss you and that would be enough, and now—look at us.”

Charlie smiled, the kind that said he remembered exactly those years.

“We have a nursery,” Nick went on. “And alphabet magnets. And you made a spreadsheet for bottle sterilizing. We’re the hottest gay dads in London.”

“In all of England,” Charlie murmured.

Nick chuckled. “Right. Sorry. Don’t want to undersell our brand.”

“Although You’re technical bisexual so the whole gay couple thing is quite ambiguous”

They lay there a while longer, hearts slow, breathing matched. The room was filled with the weight of anticipation and the warmth of love that had taken years to build.

And just as they were beginning to drift off, Nick whispered, “I’m telling all my students we won the baby Olympics.”

Charlie, eyes closed, whispered back, “You’re not even a little bit joking.”

Nick grinned into the dark. “Not even a bit.”

They had nearly drifted off when Nick shifted slightly, nuzzling into Charlie’s neck. His hands, warm and a little bold, began their usual slow and sneaky descent, fingertips dancing along Charlie’s side like he was trying to play a very sensual piano.

Charlie didn’t move.

Nick, undeterred, kissed just below his ear. “Hey.”

“…Hey.”

“Wanna make some terrible decisions with your husband?”

Charlie hummed. “Define terrible.”

Nick’s voice dropped an octave. “Terrible in that they might leave you unable to walk tomorrow.”

Charlie let out a soft, amused breath. “Nick.”

“I’m just saying. We survived a social worker. That’s basically foreplay in a marriage.”

Charlie turned to him, meeting his eyes as Nick got down the duvet, his face calm but already very entertained. “Enjoy this last week of full access to my body.”

Nick froze.

He slowly emerged from beneath the duvet, like a man surfacing from a soft, cottony warzone, his hair sticking up in tufts and his eyes wide in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean last week?” he gasped, scandalized.

Charlie blinked. “I mean, there’s no way I’m going to have sex with a baby in the flat.”

Nick flailed dramatically. “He’s not in the bed, Charlie! He’s not in the walls! He’s not a ghost baby haunting our sin! He’ll be in his own room, asleep, probably with white noise on!”

Charlie snorted. “Still feels weird. Like… pervert weird.”

Nick clutched his chest as if stabbed. “Are you—Charlie, I respectfully disagree. I am a loving, devoted husband, and I have never asked for anything in this marriage except for the right to have my wicked way with you at every reasonable opportunity. And now you’re telling me that because we’ve adopted the cutest baby in Britain, I have to—what—give that up?!”

“It’s not forever,” Charlie said gently, trying not to laugh. “Sometimes he’ll be with our parents. Maybe we’ll have a quiet weekend to ourselves.”

Nick grabbed the pillow, yelling into it.

“I’m not going from three to four times a week minimum to every now and then if the stars align!” he cried, muffled.

Charlie rolled onto his side, amused. “Okay, let’s be honest, half the time we just get tangled and laugh until we fall asleep.”

“Yes,” Nick said dramatically, “but it’s the option that matters. The threat of sex. The ever-present possibility. I can’t lose that, Charlie.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I won’t, Charles. I am not lowering the frequency of Husbandly Activities just because we became Daddies.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “So what, you want to be a hot dad and a horny menace at the same time?”

“Yes!” Nick said passionately. “Is that not the dream?!”

Charlie shook his head, laughing now, and kissed his temple. “Alright. You can try. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when the baby cries in the middle of foreplay and you’re left tragically blue-balled.”

“We’re married, Charles. This isn’t Victorian England. We’re not hosting Queen Victoria in the nursery. He’s not going to file a report if we snog behind a closed door.”

Charlie was still laughing, and Nick was still going full trial lawyer.

“We will be in our bedroom. With the door closed. At night. Whispering like naughty teenagers. I mean—what do you want me to do? Sign a chastity vow?! Take holy orders?!”

Charlie, wheezing a little, said, “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being sane! And also needy! I have husband rights!”

Charlie bit his lip. “Do you?”

“Yes!” Nick crawled dramatically over him, pinning Charlie with all the energy of a large retriever demanding attention. “I have full, married, spiritually and legally endorsed wicked way rights!”

Charlie, helpless with laughter, tried to push him off. “You’re ridiculous.”

Nick leaned in, lips brushing against his jaw. “You love it.”

“I do,” Charlie sighed, letting him linger for a moment before saying, smugly: “But you still only have one week left.”

Nick let out a choked sound of heartbreak. “I refuse this sentence. I’m filing for appeal.”

Charlie, arms flung over his face to muffle the laugh, said, “You can try. You’re free to seduce me.”

Nick grinned. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Then, with renewed determination, he dove dramatically under the duvet again.

“Stop that,” Charlie giggled, as Nick disappeared into the covers like a ridiculous, flirty ghost.

“You can’t stop seduction, Charlie. It’s already begun.”

“I swear, if you start making noises under there—”

“Seduction noises,” Nick declared, muffled under the duvet. “Hot. Married. Dignified.”

Charlie squeaked. “You’re going to suffocate under there.”

“A noble death,” came the response. “Fallen in the line of duty. Beloved husband. Horny to the end.”

And moments later, Charlie groaned and muttered as he felt his husband working under the covers of the bed like a man on a mission, “God help me. I married a monster.” He might also have rolled his eyes, but his hands were already in Nick’s hair, and he wasn’t exactly stopping him.

So, yes.

They did things.

Married things.

Well, indeed, Charlie and Nick took full advantage of that final week in their flat.

So much advantage, in fact, that Nick spent the morning hobbling around with what he diplomatically called “a mild, husband‑induced sports injury,” while downing electrolytes like a Premiership winger on match day. Hydration, he insisted, was key to responsible parenthood…and other strenuous activities.

Nick sat in the passenger seat, neck craned for the thousandth time toward the rear. He eyed the baby car‑seat like it was a priceless museum exhibit that might spontaneously combust.

“Still bolted?” he asked.

“For the ninth time—yes, Nick,” Charlie replied, fingers drumming the steering wheel. “It’s fixed to the car seat.”

Nick inhaled, held it, exhaled, then checked again—just in case gravity had changed its mind since the last traffic light.

Charlie’s phone pinged. Then pinged again. Then again.

He groaned. “Mum, Dad, Sarah… Why can’t they let us drive? ‘Stop in Kent first!’ ‘Bring him straight here!’ ‘The roast is already in!’”

Nick’s phone vibrated in sympathy. He glanced at the screen: 17 unread messages from Family Chaos Group Chat. All caps. All exclamation marks. All demanding the baby’s immediate royal tour.

“I swear,” Charlie muttered, negotiating a roundabout, “we’re lucky Tao, Elle and the rest still don’t know. Imagine that group chat.”

Nick winced. “About your ‘surprise’ idea… I’m still not convinced, Char. Dropping a baby on them like ta‑da! could give Tao an aneurysm. He fainted when our toaster popped that one time.”

Charlie chuckled. “That’s why it’ll be funny.”

“See, that’s the difference between us. You think ‘funny’; I think ‘paramedics’.”

Their phones pinged in unison—Sarah again, wondering if it was “too forward” to embroider Nana Nelson‑Spring, Est. 2025 on a baby onesie. Julio followed with: COLIN MUST LEARN SPANISH. I CAN START TUTORING NEXT TUESDAY.

Charlie thumped his head lightly against the headrest. “We created a monster.”

Nick sighed theatrically. “Two monsters. Three, if you count my mother’s binder empire.”

They fell into a jittery silence, the radio playing something soft and inoffensive. Outside, London slid past—red buses, café umbrellas, early‑autumn trees beginning to bronze. Inside, tension flitted between nerves and giddy anticipation.

Nick glanced once more at the empty car‑seat and whispered, half‑to himself, “Next time we look back, he’ll be in it.”

Charlie’s grip tightened on the wheel—but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. And then life’s never the same.”

Nick nodded, eyes bright. “Good. Same was overrated anyway.”

The sat‑nav chimed: You have reached your destination.

Charlie pulled into the parking bay, cut the engine, and let the quiet settle. For a heartbeat, neither moved.

“Ready?” Charlie asked.

Nick’s grin was pure electricity. “Not even remotely. Let’s do it.”

Nick and Charlie stepped through the door of the adoption agency like they were walking into a church.

Charlie’s hand found Nick’s without even thinking, and Nick gripped back like he was holding onto a cliff edge. Their palms were damp. Their eyes flicked around the reception area, taking in the familiar potted plants and the bowl of complimentary lollipops on the counter that always looked untouched.

The receptionist gave them a small, knowing smile.

“They’re waiting for you,” she said gently, with the kind of voice people use when babies are involved. “You can go straight through.”

Nick swallowed. “Thanks.”

They walked down the corridor slowly—too slowly—like men approaching the gallows, but the kind of gallows where someone adorable waits at the end with a fox plushie.

Each step echoed more than it should’ve. Charlie’s heart was beating somewhere near his throat. Nick was vibrating like a tuning fork.

And then—

A sound.

A tiny, bubbling giggle from behind a half‑open door.

Nick froze.

“Was that—”

“Yeah,” Charlie whispered.

They pushed the door open.

There he was.

Colin.

Sitting on the floor of a cheerful, sunlit room with foam tiles and pastel-coloured toys strewn around like confetti. His little legs splayed, socked feet kicking now and then in tiny bursts of joy. His stuffed fox was in one hand, being chewed on with great seriousness. His cheeks were flushed, his curls tousled, and his laugh—

That laugh hit them both like a wave.

The kind that knocks the breath clean out of your chest and leaves you blinking against the sunlight.

“Oh my God,” Nick whispered, stunned.

Colin looked up.

The fox dropped from his mouth. His big, curious eyes widened, and then—

He smiled.

A full, gummy, mischievous smile that could’ve powered the National Grid.

The social worker—Ms. Bennett again, thank the stars—stood up from a low chair nearby. “There’s our family,” she said, grinning as she stepped forward.

Nick was already taking a step forward before remembering how to function. Charlie grabbed the back of his hoodie like he was a dog on a leash.

“Hold on,” he hissed. “She hasn’t said anything yet.”

“I’m being welcomed by the baby, Charlie. What greater permission do I need?”

“You’ll scare him.”

“I am his father. I understand him.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. Ms. Bennett laughed.

“Don’t worry, he remembers you both,” she said. “He’s been told today is a special day.”

Colin was already crawling toward them, fox dragging behind him, tiny hands smacking the foam floor.

“Hi, baby,” Charlie breathed, crouching low as Colin got closer.

Ms. Bennett handed Nick a slim folder, her tone gentling. “Before I hand him over officially, we just need the final signatures.”

Nick blinked. “Right. Yes. Pens. Where are my—”

Charlie already had one out of his back pocket like a magician. “Here.”

They moved to the small table near the window, and Ms. Bennett flipped through the forms with steady hands.

“This just confirms your full parental responsibility and Colin’s placement as a permanent member of your household, pending standard six-month review. You’ve already been approved. This is, essentially, the ribbon on top.”

Nick looked down at the page and blinked fast. “I’ve never signed anything this serious in my life. And I’ve co-signed a lease.”

Charlie signed his name with care. Then Nick. Nelson-Spring and Nelson-Spring.

Charlie looked at the pen afterward like it had just branded his soul. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Ms. Bennett said with a smile so warm it made Nick tear up again. “He’s yours now, with the bonus of a visit from a social worker every other month for the first year.”

Charlie turned. Colin was still there, staring up at him with open, delighted confusion.

“Hi,” Charlie said, crouching again and opening his arms. “Do you wanna come with me, Colin?”

There was a pause—a glorious, heart-pounding pause—and then the baby crawled straight into Charlie’s lap without hesitation. Charlie scooped him up, his breath catching as those small arms looped instinctively around his neck.

Nick lost the ability to breathe for several seconds.

Charlie stood slowly, his hand supporting Colin’s back, the fox clutched between them like a soft, floppy witness to history. Colin squeaked something into Charlie’s jumper and nuzzled in.

Nick looked like he was seconds away from proposing all over again.

Charlie glanced at him, slightly pink in the face. “Nick?”

Nick blinked, then reached out and smoothed Colin’s wild curls like he was afraid he’d disappear.

“We should go,” he whispered. “We should bring him home.”

They stepped out of the agency building fifteen minutes later, everything slower now. More careful. The world seemed louder. Bigger. Less filtered.

Charlie carried Colin like he was made of glass. Nick hovered like a panicked dad at his first school play.

At the car, Charlie hesitated. Colin blinked up at him, drooling faintly.

“Okay,” Charlie murmured. “First test.”

Nick opened the back door, revealing the infant seat, pristine and terrifying in its snug readiness.

“Alright, little guy,” Charlie said softly, shifting his grip. “Time to get you settled in.”

It took them seven minutes.

Nick nearly passed out from anxiety during the middle part, and Charlie had to consult YouTube videos twice, despite having done it just two days before in the trial run. Eventually, Colin was snugly strapped in, fox nestled at his side, sucking on two fingers like he’d been doing this every day of his life.

Charlie closed the door slowly and leaned back with a breathless huff.

Nick stood beside him, heart racing. He looked at the tiny figure in the backseat, then back at Charlie.

“Maybe I should sit in the back with him.”

Charlie didn’t even pause. “Yes. Nick. Of course.”

“Just in case he panics.”

“Nick, he’s smiling at the mirror.”

Nick was already opening the door. “Still. I’m sitting back there.”

Charlie watched him climb in and coo gently at the baby like a besotted grandmother. Colin cooed back, then sneezed.

Nick gasped. “Bless you. I love you.”

Charlie climbed into the driver’s seat, gave the mirror a small tilt, and took one last look at his husband and their son.

His husband.

Their son.

A tiny miracle in a blue seat with a fox and a thousand unread text messages waiting.

He smiled to himself, started the engine, and pulled into traffic.

Home was waiting.

The door clicked open.

Nick turned the key slowly, reverently, as though unlocking something sacred. The latch gave its familiar clack, and the door to their flat opened wide.

Charlie stood just behind him, one arm wrapped protectively around Colin, who was curled into his chest with his fox plush squished between them. The baby made a soft little humming giggle, eyes fluttering as he peered into this brand-new space with quiet curiosity.

Charlie swallowed. Hard.

This was it.

This was home.

And now… it was his home, too.

Nick stepped back quickly, wide-eyed, and waved a hand like a maître d’ welcoming royalty. “After you, gentlemen.”

Charlie smiled, biting the inside of his cheek to keep it together, and stepped over the threshold. The moment his foot crossed the doorframe with Colin in his arms, something in the air shifted.

The flat—their flat—felt different now. Not just a home. A family’s home.

Colin made a soft, breathy “ah!” sound, nuzzling his face against Charlie’s hoodie. Charlie gently rubbed his back and whispered, “We’re here, sweetheart. This is where you live now.”

Nick closed the door behind them.

It gave a satisfying click. Final. Official. Safe.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the entryway, his hand still on the doorknob, as if anchoring himself to the moment. Then he turned to see Charlie standing in the middle of the living room with their son tucked into his arms, and something in his chest cracked open like spring ice.

Charlie was smiling—but it was tremulous. Barely holding together. And Nick didn’t even try. His eyes shimmered and he reached out, touching Colin’s tiny hand where it curled near Charlie’s collarbone.

“Welcome home, baby,” he whispered.

Charlie let out a small, wet laugh. “We did it.”

Nick nodded, words stuck somewhere behind the emotion choking his throat.

Charlie walked over to the sofa and slowly lowered himself down, still holding Colin, cradling him like the most fragile thing in the world.

Nick followed and sank down beside him, close, thighs touching, shoulder brushing. They sat together in silence, knees bent, hearts racing, breathing in tandem.

And they looked at him.

Their baby.

Their Colin.

He was blinking slowly, a little overwhelmed, but he didn’t cry. He seemed to sense the stillness of the moment, the quiet safety of it. He looked between the two faces above him—both young, both stunned, both glowing in a kind of disbelief that would probably last years.

Nick brushed his fingers over Colin’s hair. “He’s really here.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s ours.”

“Yeah.”

Neither could quite believe it.

Colin squirmed softly, his fox clutched tight in one hand. Charlie shifted him gently onto his lap, and the baby sat upright, wobbly and curious. He looked around the room with slow, scanning glances—eyes pausing on the bookshelf, the bright green pillow, the framed photo of Nick and Charlie in Edinburgh.

His world had changed. And he knew it.

Then he babbled and pointed to the floor, Charlie already knowing what he meant put him softly on the floor.

Colin didn’t hesitate.

The moment his socked feet touched the familiar rug of the living room, he gave a little grunt of recognition—like a seasoned traveler returning to a well-loved destination. Then, with his fox clutched tightly in one hand, he crawled forward like he’d never left.

Nick and Charlie sat on the floor, leaning back against the sofa, still in awe despite knowing full well that this was coming. They had prepared for this. They had baby-proofed, practiced, studied nap routines, sanitized every visible and invisible surface… but nothing could prepare them for the sheer power of watching Colin being home.

He zoomed straight for the toy basket in the corner of the living room like a missile with a giggle.

Nick gasped, practically launching forward. “Wait—let me—let me get the good ones!”

He scrambled across the rug, scooping up a few of the nicer, cleaner toys they had staged like museum exhibits: a stackable ring set, the plush giraffe with the jingling legs, a set of interlocking blocks in pastel colors. He lined them up beside Colin like a personal valet presenting a buffet of delights.

Colin looked at the toys, blinked slowly, then chose the box the blocks came in and started chewing on the corner.

Nick looked scandalized. “He’s rejecting the curated experience.”

Charlie laughed, completely enchanted. “He has taste. Boxes are in this season.”

The box was, undeniably, Colin’s favorite toy.

Nick had tried. He had offered the very finest, softest, most developmentally approved toys money and Pinterest boards could provide. There were squeaky blocks, Montessori sorting trays, a very smug-looking wooden train from a boutique in Notting Hill, and even a plush whale that sang lullabies in the three languages spoken in their house.

Colin promptly tried to sit inside the box and got his leg stuck.

Nick gasped. “He’s inventing posture, soon he will be able to walk, he is 1 year old so it’s time!”

Charlie clapped. “Good job, baby!”

Colin beamed.

The clapping had consequences.

Colin loved it. The delighted gasp, the attention, the rhythm—it lit him up like a firework. He bounced in place on the rug, which was mostly just swaying on his diapered bum, and smacked his own hands together as best he could, a kind of palm-on-wrist improv.

Nick was thrilled. “Did you see that? He’s performing. He’s like… an artist. A performance artist!”

Charlie sat up straight. “Wait—hang on—”

He crossed to the corner where the record player was perched on its wooden stand and started flipping through vinyls. “If we’re going to have our child debut his interpretive work, we need a soundtrack.”

Nick turned toward him, excited. “What are you putting on?”

“Something dramatic. Something worthy.”

Charlie pulled out a well-loved record, placed it carefully on the turntable, and lowered the needle. A low, crackly hum filled the flat.

Then—“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” began to play.

Colin paused mid-box chew. His eyes grew wide. He dropped the box.

And then.

He started to dance.

Well—he started to try to dance.

He rose up onto his wobbly knees and began to bounce, swaying his arms like a very small, very drunk conductor. He banged his hands against his thighs. He squealed. He rocked back and forth with complete abandon, the fox plush flopping beside him like an emotional support mascot.

Nick clapped like a man at the opera.

Charlie joined in, slapping the arm of the sofa with enthusiasm.

Colin, startled by the applause, sat back up, looked at them with delighted confusion, and let out a loud, “DAAAH!”

Nick pointed. “Did you hear that?! He just said ‘Dad.’”

Charlie blinked. “I think he said ‘daah’.”

“Yes. For Daddy. That’s me. Say it again, my talented cherub of song and motion.”

Colin sneezed.

Nick, tearing up, whispered, “Beautiful. Babe. I’m gonna be the hot dad of a famous child.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You already are the hot dad of a chaotic child.”

Nick ignored him. “Think about it. The red carpets. The press tours. He’s six years old, doing a worldwide concert tour. Sold out in seconds. People screaming ‘Coooooolin!’ and he’s there on stage, just clapping. That’s his act. That’s the show. That’s the movement.”

Charlie nodded solemnly. “Performance art is in.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “We’re gonna need to move to New York.”

Charlie choked on his tea. “What?”

“Broadway,” Nick said with total conviction. “He’s going to be the youngest Tony Award performance in history. Do you think we need an agent? Or do we go indie? Wait, do babies need visas?”

Charlie just blinked at him. “He doesn’t talk yet, Nick.”

Nick put a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t need to talk. He emotes.”

Colin had now scooted over to the nearest cushion and was patting it rhythmically, making small delighted noises every time it puffed up beneath his palm.

Charlie sighed, watching him. “You think he’d like a drum set?”

Nick’s eyes snapped toward him. “You’re on board.”

“I mean…” Charlie shrugged. “We could be his backup band.”

“You on drums?”

Charlie grinned. “Obviously.”

Nick’s face lit up with the intensity of the sun. “Okay. Okay. You’re in. You’ve fallen. This is it. We’re doing it.”

He grabbed his phone, typing furiously.

Charlie looked up. “What are you—”

“We’re looking for toddler music lessons next week. Piano, vocals, percussion. We’ll throw in interpretive dance if there’s space in the schedule.”

Charlie rolled his eyes fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

Nick dropped to the floor beside Colin again and whispered, “But you love me.”

“I do.”

“And you love our baby genius.”

“I do.”

“And you’re going to drive me to his first audition.”

Charlie nodded solemnly. “He needs discipline. We’re not raising a pop star. We’re raising The voice of a generation.”

Nick wiped away a fake tear. “I knew you were the one for me.”

Then, with total sincerity, he turned to Colin—now chewing on his own foot—and whispered: “It’s you and me, kid. We’re winning Tonys before you can count to three.”

Charlie just kept clapping in the background as Colin tried to climb up Nick’s leg like it was a jungle gym. A jazzier song came on next.

Colin swayed once, fell on his face, and they both cheered like he’d landed a backflip at the Olympics.

Best day ever.

The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of something roasted and slightly cheesy, a comforting hum of soft jazz playing low from the speaker in the corner. The overhead light cast everything in a golden glow, soft and sleepy and safe. Outside, the city had quieted, the windows showing nothing but the slow flicker of distant flats and the occasional whoosh of a car slipping past below.

Charlie stood by the high chair, coaxing a spoonful of mashed sweet potato into Colin’s eager mouth, his voice soft and sing-song. He wore a loose sweatshirt with one sleeve pushed up and a dish towel slung over one shoulder like some kind of domestic warrior.

Colin, delighted by the dinner theatrics, squealed in triumph and clapped his tiny hands together, mouth beaming orange with success.

Nick stood at the counter, plating their dinner like it was a ritual, turning to watch them every few seconds. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop watching.

Charlie, crouched at Colin’s level, whispering praises like “such a clever boy”, gently dabbing mashed carrot from his cheek with the corner of a napkin. Colin, legs kicking excitedly, gripping his spoon like a victory sword, glowing from the attention of his daddy.

Nick blinked.

And then blinked again.

And then very quietly thought, Oh my God. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

He took a breath, chest swelling with something unnameable—so full and soft and overwhelming it almost made his knees give out.

This was it.

This was it.

A family. His family. His husband. His son.

Charlie let out a breathy laugh as Colin tried to grab the bowl with both hands, and Nick genuinely had to bite the inside of his cheek because, for a second, he thought he might tear up. Again. He was dangerously close to turning into a full Lifetime movie.

He carried the plates to the table, setting them down, then returned with glasses of water and a sippy cup, beaming the entire way like a dork on Christmas morning.

Charlie looked up at him, eyes sparkling with quiet joy. “You okay?”

Nick nodded, setting down the final fork. “I am so far beyond okay, you don’t even know.”

Colin banged his spoon against the high chair tray with a proud “DAH!”

Nick leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “You, my little goblin, are the best dinner date I’ve ever had.”

Colin giggled and slapped mashed potato into his hair.

Charlie laughed. “And stylish, too.”

They all finally sat down—Colin babbling between bites, Charlie humming softly as he refilled the spoon, and Nick just… smiling. Staring. Watching. Letting it all soak in like warmth into chilled skin.

He didn’t even taste the food at first.

Because all he could think was:

This is my life.

This is my family.

Charlie, feeding their baby with the gentlest hands, the kindest eyes.

Colin, giggling with a mouth full of food, utterly adored.

Nick couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t understand how anyone in the world could not want this. How could anyone look at this and not feel everything click into place?

He reached across the table, just to rest his fingers lightly over Charlie’s hand.

Charlie looked up, smiled.

“I’m the luckiest bastard alive,” Nick said, voice hushed.

Charlie laughed softly. “Yeah, you are.”

And across the table, Colin—glorious, sticky, and giddy—clapped for them both.

Like he knew.

After dinner—after every spoonful had been devoured, every tiny giggle absorbed, and every last smear of mashed vegetables wiped from chins, tray, and Colin’s left eyebrow—Charlie scooped their very full, very tired baby into his arms and said, with gentle finality, “Alright, sweetheart. Time to get you ready for bed.”

Colin let out a tiny, sleepy squeal and leaned against Charlie’s chest like a warm sack of flour.

Charlie looked at Nick, smiling. “I’ll clean the kitchen if you want to take him for a minute?”

Nick’s entire face lit up like he’d just been handed the Olympic torch. “Absolutely. Me and the boy have got this.”

He reached over and carefully took Colin into his arms—already a familiar weight, a warmth he’d only known for a day but would now miss forever the moment it left him.

“Alright, mister,” he murmured, “let’s go do some cool stuff. Like brushing our gums and getting cozy.”

Colin blinked sleepily at him, then shoved his fox plush into Nick’s collarbone.

“Great contribution,” Nick whispered as he carried him down the hallway toward the nursery.

The flat was quiet now, soft and dim. The kind of quiet that held reverence. Nick hummed as he walked—something low and tuneless, just for Colin—and sat with him in the rocking chair for a moment, bouncing gently, just soaking in the silence.

Charlie joined a few minutes later, sleeves rolled up, hands slightly damp from wiping counters. He leaned in the doorway and just watched them for a moment: Nick cradling Colin, his eyes droopy, his hand still gripping the fox like a lifeline.

Charlie smiled. “Ready for operation bedtime?”

Nick stood, giving Colin a little bounce. “Born ready. Lead the way, captain.”

They laid him on the changing mat together, murmuring to him as he squirmed softly, drowsy but curious.

And then—the First Diaper Change.

They laid Colin gently onto the changing mat, his little limbs flopping tiredly, his fox plush squeezed beneath one arm like an emotional support cloud. His eyes were half-lidded, a satisfied post-dinner glaze settling over his face. Nick cracked his knuckles like a surgeon scrubbing in.

“Okay, little man,” he whispered, crouching down at eye level. “This is our first official nappy change. You and me. We’re gonna handle this like professionals.”

Charlie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling like he was watching a live performance of Nick Nelson: Fatherhood Edition.

“I’ve got this,” Nick declared, puffing out his chest. “How hard can it be? He’s tiny. I’m a grown man. I do my own taxes.”

Charlie snorted. “Sure.”

Nick unsnapped the pajama buttons and gently opened up the nappy. “Alright, little man. Let’s get you cleaned up—”

PFFFFFFFFFFFT.

It was the sound of innocent destruction. A sudden, sharp arc of baby pee shot up with the precision of a garden hose on revenge mode.

“OH MY GOD—”

Nick’s reflexes kicked in. In one wild motion, he grabbed the clean diaper and held it up like a riot shield between him and Colin.

“CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!”

Charlie wheezed from the doorway, doubled over in laughter.

Colin, meanwhile, was beaming. A gummy, open-mouthed, evil genius smile plastered across his cherub face. If he had eyebrows, they would’ve arched.

“Why is he smiling?!” Nick gasped, peeking out from behind the shield. “Is this a power move?!”

Charlie stumbled closer, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s a rite of passage. You’ve been chosen.”

“He peed on me! This is how we’re bonding?! Through warfare?!”

“You’re doing great, love.”

Nick tossed the soggy wipe aside like a spent cartridge, sighing in dramatic surrender. “This was supposed to be my moment. I was gonna change his diaper like a pro and then do a victory lap. Instead, I got attacked by a golden geyser.”

Charlie reached over and handed him fresh wipes. “Better clean him again. And probably your sleeves.”

Eventually, they had him cleaned—again—and this time the clean nappy went on like a fortress. Nick triple-checked the tabs, smoothed out every edge, and gave a firm, satisfied nod.

“Operation Re-Diaper is complete,” he said solemnly.

Charlie patted his back. “No casualties. Just your ego.”

Colin cooed like he’d just won the entire encounter.

And Nick, watching the victorious smile on his baby’s face, despite everything, felt his heart do that familiar, ridiculous, all-consuming swell.

“Okay,” he muttered, smiling helplessly. “You win this round.”

Charlie grinned. “He’s not keeping score.”

“He is, though. I can feel it.”

Colin’s eyes fluttered, fox in hand, victorious grin still twitching at the corners of his mouth.

The nursery was bathed in soft, sleepy golden light, the world outside dark and quiet.

Charlie had just stepped out for two minutes—to grab Colin’s special fox-blanket from the laundry, because bedtime needed to be perfect—when he returned to find a scene of sheer, scandalous chaos.

Nick, standing dead center in the nursery, had Colin held high in the air above his head like Simba on Pride Rock.

The baby was giggling wildly—those breathless, hiccuping little laughs that made his whole body wriggle—and Nick was grinning up at him like he had just personally invented happiness.

Charlie stopped in the doorway, holding the blanket in one hand, and raised an eyebrow with as much faux-horror as he could muster.

“What,” Charlie said, voice scandalized, “are you doing?”

Nick froze mid-toss, Colin suspended in the air for one hilarious second.

Then Nick caught him gently, cradling him back against his chest, still laughing.

“Nothing!” Nick said in the most guilty voice a man had ever used while being so obviously guilty.

Colin, oblivious to all parental drama, grabbed a handful of Nick’s hair and gave a victorious shriek.

Charlie walked in slowly, shaking his head in mock sternness. “You leave the room for thirty seconds—thirty seconds—and this man turns bedtime into a Cirque du Soleil audition.”

Nick pressed a kiss to Colin’s fluffy hair and grinned at Charlie. “He loves it. Look at that face. He’s having the time of his life.”

Colin promptly drooled all over Nick’s hoodie and giggled again.

Charlie rolled his eyes fondly and walked over, tucking the fox-blanket under Colin’s arm with a soft murmur.

Then he looked at the both of them—his husband, holding their son, both of them messy-haired and flushed with joy—and something in his chest tightened sweetly.

“Alright, you little troublemaker,” Charlie said, tapping Colin’s nose gently, “you want Daddy Charlie to read you a story? Of course you do, baby. Daddy Charlie’s got you.”

They carried him over to the crib, lowering him down carefully onto the brand-new mattress. Colin flopped over onto his back, clinging to his battered fox plush, staring up at them with wide, expectant eyes.

Nick dropped onto the floor beside the crib, cross-legged, arms resting on the mattress edge. Charlie settled into the rocking chair nearby, clearing his throat dramatically as he opened the book.

And then—

“Guess how much I love you,” Charlie said, deepening his voice into a slow, thoughtful rumble for Big Nutbrown Hare.

Nick melted instantly.

Charlie didn’t stop there—he pitched his voice high and bright for Little Nutbrown Hare’s lines, wiggling his eyebrows and flapping one hand like a bunny ear whenever the words called for it.

“I love you as high as I can reach!” Charlie said in his “little bunny” voice, stretching both arms into the air so wildly he almost fell off the chair.

Nick snorted softly, watching them, utterly enchanted.

God, he thought, how am I this lucky?

Colin blinked at Charlie, slack-jawed with wonder. Then he cooed—a long, drawn-out “ahhhh” sound—as if he were deeply impressed by the performance.

Nick grinned like an idiot. He leaned in close to the crib and whispered, “Best seats in the house, little man.”

Charlie kept going, dropping into a conspiratorial whisper for the nighttime scenes, gesturing wildly for all the “as far as the river” lines, his whole face animated with love and silliness.

Nick reached into his hoodie pocket, slowly, carefully, and pulled out his phone. Without the flash, without sound, he captured a single picture—Charlie reading, Colin staring up at him in sleepy, giddy awe.

First bedtime story.

He tucked the phone away again, not needing to check it.

This moment was already seared into his memory anyway.

By the time Charlie reached the last page—“I love you all the way to the moon—and back”—Colin’s eyelids were drooping, his grip on his fox plush loosening.

Charlie closed the book with a soft snap and smiled at Nick, who was watching him like he’d just reinvented the concept of love.

They both leaned over the crib together, peeking down at their son.

Colin gave one tiny, fluttering sigh—and then he was out. Completely surrendered to sleep, cheeks flushed, hair sticking up in little tufts, fingers still curled around the soft toy.

Nick rested his forehead against Charlie’s shoulder, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “He’s asleep.”

Charlie kissed Nick’s hair gently. “He’s home.”

They stayed like that, tangled together, silent and still, just watching.

After a long moment, Nick finally whispered, “I can’t stop looking at him, Char.”

Charlie smiled, voice equally hushed. “Me neither.”

They lingered, hearts full, eyes drinking in every tiny detail—the slow rise and fall of Colin’s chest, the way one socked foot poked out from under the blanket, the peaceful little smile that ghosted across his face as he slept.

But eventually, Charlie leaned over and brushed Nick’s arm gently. “Come on, love. We have to go to bed ourselves.”

Nick nodded. He stood slowly, stretching a little, following Charlie out into the hallway.

They had barely made it two steps before Nick suddenly stopped.

Charlie frowned, turning. “Nick?”

Nick didn’t answer. He spun on his heel and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Charlie blinked after him, utterly confused.

Two minutes. That’s all it took before Nick reappeared—grunting, shuffling, dragging their entire mattress out of their bedroom and down the hall toward the nursery like a stubborn pack mule.

Charlie stared, open-mouthed.

“Nick,” he said, voice high with disbelief, “what—what are you doing?”

Nick paused, adjusting his grip, looking at him with complete, comical seriousness. “Well, if we can’t stop looking at him…” he huffed, pushing the mattress through the nursery door with his shoulder, “we can just sleep here.”

Charlie opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

There were a lot of arguments. Practical arguments. Logical ones.

But none of them mattered.

Because, honestly, he didn’t want to stop looking at Colin either.

So instead, Charlie just sighed, fighting a smile, and helped Nick shove the mattress into the free space beside the crib, right under the nightlight.

Together, they threw a few of Colin’s extra soft blankets over it like makeshift bedding. Nick grabbed one of the giant floor cushions from the reading corner, plopped it onto the mattress, and immediately flopped down face-first onto it with a loud, satisfied grunt.

Charlie laughed quietly, rolling his eyes. “Nick, you know that’s a pillow for reading, not sleeping.”

Nick lifted his head, hair wild, grinning. “It’s a pillow now.”

Charlie shook his head fondly. He pulled two more baby blankets from the stack, draped them over Nick, and slipped under them himself, settling beside his husband with a tired but glowing heart.

Nick, without missing a beat, opened his arms wide. “You can sleep on my chest, you know. Premium spot. No extra charge.”

Charlie snorted. “How cheeky of you.”

Nick grinned, tugging him closer. “I work very hard at the gym to have this babies ready for you, thank you very much. I know how much you love them.”

Charlie giggled under his breath, resting his head against Nick’s chest, feeling the steady, soothing thump of his heart.

“I do, my love,” he whispered. “I really do.”

Nick smiled, dropping a soft kiss onto Charlie’s hair.

They lay there in the hush of the nursery, Colin sleeping soundly in his crib just an arm’s reach away, his little fox nestled against his cheek, the stars from the nightlight gently spinning across the ceiling.

Charlie’s eyes grew heavy first, his breathing evening out against Nick’s chest. Nick stayed awake a little longer, his hand lazily stroking Charlie’s back, listening to the sound of his two boys breathing softly in tandem.

My family, he thought, feeling his chest ache with the beauty of it. My whole, perfect family.

And under the soft, sleepy light of their son’s dreams, Nick and Charlie drifted off, tangled together, home at last.