Fic: You are not alone in this (Hockey, Alex Galchenyuk/Brandon Prust, 15800 words, Explicit) 1/2
Summary: Brandon is not pleased that (a) Alex was gone when he woke up in the morning or (b) that he’s pregnant when no one in his family has ever been a carrier.
Notes: Title from Mumford & Sons' "Timshel." Many thanks to Lake for helping me make this story better, and thanks to everyone who answered miscellaneous questions on Twitter.
Story on AO3
Brandon has the TV on in the lounge. He could be doing something else, but he's a little too preoccupied with the knowledge that something is not quite right with his body for video games, and it's too early in the summer for the most strenuous part of his training yet. Besides, he's not here for training today.
He's not really paying any attention to what he's watching, and he clicks it off when Doctor V comes to get him.
"Sit down, Brandon," Doctor V says when they get to the medical office.
Brandon sits, suddenly nervous with how serious Doctor V is being. "So what is it?"
"I won't sugarcoat it," Doctor V says, which Brandon appreciates. "You're pregnant."
Later Brandon will probably appreciate that Doctor V pauses and lets him absorb that. In the moment, everything in his mind goes blank. When it comes back, it's a jumble of questions, and he has to work to pull out just one to throw at Doctor V.
"What now?"
"We'll send you to a specialist to talk to you in more detail," Doctor V says, "but you have two options. You can terminate. We do it as an outpatient procedure, you'll be a little sore for a week or so, but it shouldn't affect your summer training. Or you can carry to term. You'll be on leave for the season. We'll work with you on what you can do while you're pregnant and what we can do to help you get in shape afterwards."
Brandon's mind is still whirling. "But no one in my family's ever been a carrier."
Doctor V nods. "That's in your medical history. But we still don't understand the science behind it, and sometimes men can be carriers even when there's no family history of it."
Fuck, Brandon thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He thanks Doctor V for his time and puts the information about his specialist appointment into his phone.
He tries not to think about it much in the two days between that and his appointment, just keeps sleeping too much, getting tired out from doing nothing.
Doctor Leblanc, the specialist, tells him much the same thing Doctor V did, with way more detail, exactly what termination and carrying to term will do to his body.
"You're about five weeks along," Doctor Leblanc says.
"Six," Brandon says.
"Six weeks, then," Doctor Leblanc says, "if you're sure."
Brandon's sure. The night they lost game six to the Rangers. They'd flown home after, everyone quiet and angry on the plane, Alex following him to his car instead of getting a ride with Gally, insisting they go to Brandon's.
They'd hooked up before, quick handjobs or blowjobs, just blowing off steam. That night, they'd both been angry and hurt, crashing against each other, Alex pushing and pushing and pushing. He'd opened himself up, told Brandon he was clean and goaded him into fucking him, Alex on his hands and knees and Brandon fucking into him hard and harder and harder.
The second time, later, after they'd slept for a while, Brandon woke up when Alex turned on the lamp next to his bed. Alex had opened him up that time, his fingers slow and careful inside of Brandon. He'd lain over Brandon, rocking into him in soft, barely there thrusts while they looked at each other and kissed, soft and open-mouthed. Something had burned in Brandon's throat, and then that feeling spread, until he was burning with the touch of Alex's body everywhere, and it burned away the lingering taste of disappointment from the game.
Alex was gone when Brandon woke up in the morning.
Brandon didn't see him again until locker cleanout day, when they hugged goodbye just like they were hugging everyone else. He hasn't heard from Alex since.
"I'm sure," he tells Doctor Leblanc.
"Six weeks along gives you a few weeks to decide what you're going to do," Doctor Leblanc says. "But there's a limited window if you choose to terminate."
"Okay," Brandon says numbly. This isn't a decision he wants to have to make.
He asks Doctor Leblanc about the family history thing, hoping he knows more than Doctor V does.
"Unfortunately," Doctor Leblanc says, "family history is not always a reliable indicator. There are multiple genes involved in being a carrier, and we're only just now starting to understand the details. There is a theory that two men with particularly compatible DNA can trigger latent carrier genes." Doctor Leblanc smiles. "Of course, many people discard that as romantic wishful thinking, but if you've engaged in this sort of sexual behavior before with other partners and not gotten pregnant, it's a possible explanation."
Brandon leaves with a stack of pamphlets, a deadline for when he has to make a decision, and no better idea of what he's going to do.
That's not entirely true. What he does is text Alex from the car in the parking lot. When are you coming back to MTL?
By the time he gets home, he has an answering text: September.
God, he really doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to ask Alex to come back, doesn't want to have to talk to him about it. But Alex is bound to find out whichever way he decides - termination is supposed to remain confidential but would probably get leaked - and Brandon doesn't want to lose his friendship because he didn't tell him. Not to mention that if it causes a problem in the locker room, Brandon's the one who'll get traded.
Brandon asks, Can you come back sooner? Next two weeks?
He gets a row of question marks and then, Planning a party?
No, he sends back. Need to talk to you. In person. You can fly in and fly out the next day. Fuck. It sounds like he's trying to arrange an international booty call.
Is this a prank? Alex asks. He's so suspicious.
No. It's important. I wouldn't ask otherwise.
You could come to South Beach, Alex suggests.
He could, but then he'd have to see Alex's family, and he'd rather have this conversation just the two of them. Preferably on home turf. He sends, Please?
Brandon makes a snack while he's waiting for Alex to reply. He's halfway through his sandwich when he gets, OK. Will be there on Thursday. Brandon sends back an acknowledgement, finishes his sandwich, and goes to take a nap because now he really is exhausted.
*
Alex shows up at Brandon's door on Thursday afternoon, and there's an awkward moment before Brandon goes in for a hug. He holds on a little bit because after today they might not be friends again.
Alex looks actually worried after that. "What is going on?"
Brandon sighs. "Sit down." He waits for Alex to sit first and then sits across from him. There's no easy way to say it, so he just leans forward and does it. "I'm pregnant. I haven't been with anyone else in a long time. It's yours. Ours." Stupid how hard it is to talk about when it was so easy to do. He glances up, and Alex is just staring at him. Just stares at him for what can't be more than a few seconds but seems like so much longer.
When he finally does speak, his face is creased with anger. "You never told me you were a carrier!"
"I'm not!" Brandon protests. "Or I didn't think I was. No one in my family has ever been a carrier. If I'd known, we wouldn't have."
"You should have known!"
"How could I?" Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Alex. "It's not like you're the first guy to fuck me, and I've never gotten pregnant before."
Alex turns red and then white and then red. Brandon would chirp him for it if he weren't so angry at Alex for being a dick.
"Anyway," Brandon says, "the doctor said some people think latent carrier genes can be triggered by compatible DNA, so maybe this happened because of you. It was your idea," he adds meanly.
Brandon wanted it, all of it except this last part, but it was Alex's idea, even the first time, Alex the one to close the space between them in a hotel room in Raleigh. He'd disappeared after that one, too, not talking to Brandon for the first week of the Olympic break and pretending nothing was different after that, at least until the next time.
"You wanted it too," Alex says. He stands up. "Why did you even tell me?"
Brandon scowls at him. "Because I'm not the only one involved here, and you would never talk to me again if I didn't."
"I don't want to talk to you now." Alex slams the door when he leaves.
"Fuck," Brandon says into the suddenly quiet room. Then he goes to take a nap, because what else is there to do?
*
Alex comes back in the evening, with a bag that smells heavenly. He holds it up when Brandon answers the door. "Sorry," he says.
Brandon sighs. "If I'd had someone to yell at when I found out, I probably would have." He lets Alex in. "I'm sorry too."
Alex spreads the containers of Chinese food out on the coffee table, and Brandon gets them plates and forks.
"The sweet and sour pork is all mine," Brandon says while they're divvying up the food. "You stay out of it." It's the same thing he would say if things weren't weird between them, and Alex pointedly takes a piece of it the same way he normally would.
Brandon doesn't try to rush into conversation while they eat, and lets Alex be the one to ask, "So what happens now?"
"I can terminate," Brandon says, "and get right back to summer training. Or I can carry to term. I'll miss the whole season and have a baby at the end." He's been trying not to think of it as a baby, not unless he decides to carry to term.
"What are you going to do?" Alex asks.
"I don't know," Brandon says. He scoops the rest of the sweet and sour pork onto his plate. "What-" He takes a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?" He risks looking over at Alex, whose eyes have gone wide and startled.
"It's, um, your body," Alex says. "And your career."
"And if I carry to term, it'll be your baby too," Brandon points out.
"What do you want to do?" Alex asks.
Brandon eats a piece of sweet and sour pork, glad he's hungry and not nauseous this evening. "I don't know," he says. "If I have it, it's a year out of my career. It might be the end of my career."
Alex looks alarmed at that. "Guys come back after they have a baby."
"Not guys my age," Brandon says. "Although mostly guys my age manage not to get pregnant in the first place."
Alex winces.
"I always thought I would have kids," Brandon continues. "Not this way, but," he shrugs, "I do want them."
"I want them too," Alex says hesitantly. "I never think I have kids this young."
"Yeah," Brandon says, because that's part of the decision they have to make. He's probably ready to take on the responsibility of raising a child, and Alex can't even buy his own drinks on road trips to the US.
"Do you want this baby?" Alex asks, his words still slow and careful.
Brandon has been trying not to think about it as a baby, not to get attached before he makes a decision. He lets himself do it now, thinks about a kid growing up with Alex's nose and his chin, a kid with a competitive streak a mile wide but an easy laugh. It's harder, once he's done that, to think about terminating.
"If I have this kid," Brandon says, feeling it out, "it has to be both of us. We have to both be parents to it."
"Of course," Alex says, looking offended at the suggestion that he might do anything else, which actually makes sense if Brandon thinks about it. Alex may be young, but he is very responsible.
Brandon turns the question around on him. "Do you want this kid?"
Alex nods slowly. "I think, if you want it, then I do too."
Brandon takes a bite of the sweet and sour pork to give himself a minute to think. Not that he hasn't been thinking, but he hasn't been taking Alex into account the same way he can when he knows Alex is going to step up and be the kid's other parent if he keeps it. It makes it harder to ignore the part of him that really, really thinks he should keep it, no matter what Alex wants.
"It's not going to be easy," Brandon says, "and there are a lot of things we have to figure out."
Alex nods. "But we are going to do this?"
"Yeah," Brandon says. "I guess we're having a baby." It's probably a stupid decision. Possibly the stupidest decision he's ever made. But it feels right.
Then Alex ruins it by saying, "You should move in with me."
Brandon laughs. "Yeah, you and your parents and your sister."
There's a look on Alex's face that says he's about to be annoyingly stubborn. "Yes," he says. "You will not have to be alone. And my mom has been pregnant. She can help."
"Alex," Brandon says, "I'm not moving in with you and your family."
"It makes sense," Alex insists.
"It does not make sense. We're not even dating." They're not, and they probably should have talked about what they were doing long before this.
Alex goes completely blank for a few seconds. "But we are having a baby."
"Plenty of people have babies without living together," Brandon points out. "Or with their baby's other grandparents."
Alex presses his lips together tightly. "I could live with you," he says.
Brandon almost laughs at how insistent Alex is about this, but the serious look on Alex's face stops him. "We're not together," he says. "We're not living together."
"What about when the baby is here?"
"We don't have to figure that out tonight," Brandon says. "We have seven months until that happens. Eat your dinner."
Alex reaches over and takes a piece of Brandon's sweet and sour pork.
"Hey," Brandon says, "I said eat your dinner, not mine."
Alex grins at him unrepentantly and takes another piece.
"You know you're not just taking that from me," Brandon says. "You're taking it from the baby."
Alex looks guilty for about half a second, and then he laughs and shoves at Brandon's shoulder. "Are you going to use that as an excuse for the next seven months?"
"What excuse? That's a very good reason for me to get what I want."
Things lighten up, and they talk about things other than Brandon's pregnancy while they finish dinner.
When they're done eating, Alex asks, "Can I, uh, touch?"
Brandon looks down at himself since Alex seems to be looking at his midsection. "You can't feel anything," he says. "I'm not even showing yet." When that doesn't stop Alex from looking at him, he holds his arms out from his sides. "Fine, go ahead."
Alex scoots closer and puts one hand on Brandon's stomach. "It feels the same."
"I told you so," Brandon says.
Alex leans closer into Brandon's side. "Can I talk to it?"
"I don't think it has ears yet," Brandon says. He's not sure about that, but he's not even two months along; it probably hasn't developed much yet.
Brandon turns his head to look at Alex when he doesn't say anything.
Alex shifts his focus from Brandon's stomach to his face. "We're having a baby," he says, sounded awed about it.
And maybe they've been talking about it off and on all day, but, yeah, they're having a baby, which Brandon never could have predicted, and that's pretty amazing. "Yeah," Brandon says.
They're very close, barely any space between them, and Alex leans in and kisses him, soft and almost reverent.
Brandon eases out of the kiss after a minute, and rests his forehead against Alex's. "Alex," he says softly, and he's not sure if he means it as a plea for more or a rejection of anything at all.
Alex nods and backs off. "My flight is early tomorrow."
They clean up from dinner, and Brandon walks Alex to the door. "We'll figure out the rest of it," Brandon says.
Alex nods, eyes serious and careful. "Yes, we will."
They hug, Alex's arms gentle around him, but don't kiss again.
*
After Alex, Brandon tells his parents first. They're a mix of flabbergasted that he could get pregnant at all and excited about getting another grandchild.
He FaceTimes P.K. next. They shoot the shit about how their summers have been so far before Brandon brings it up.
"I'm not going to be playing next year."
P.K. immediately looks concerned. "Why? What's going on?"
"I'm pregnant."
P.K. stares at him, and then chuckles. "Nice one, bud."
"No," Brandon says, "I really am."
P.K.'s laughter cuts off, and he squints at Brandon through the screen. "Why the fuck would you do that? Your biological clock ticking?"
"Way to make me feel worse about it," Brandon says. "I didn't know it could happen. No family history."
"Well, shit," P.K. says.
"Pretty much," Brandon says.
P.K. hmms a little. "You tell Chucky yet?"
Brandon starts to ask, "Why would I-" before P.K.'s unimpressed look makes him cut himself off. "Yeah," he says. "I did. We decided together to keep it."
"All right," P.K. says. "Well, congratulations. How's he dealing with it?"
Brandon shrugs. "Okay." That's enough to encompass Alex yelling and then coming around to it. "He wants me to move in with him and his parents and sister."
P.K. hmms again. "That wouldn't be the worst idea."
"Don't you start too," Brandon says. "We're not dating, and I'm not moving in with him so his mom can take care of me while I'm pregnant."
"Hey, all right," P.K. says. "But when you decide you don't want to go through your pregnancy alone, just remember that you have an offer from your baby daddy and you're not sleeping on my couch."
P.K. has a spare room and would never turn away a friend in need, so that's all a lie. Brandon shakes his head and says, "Whatever you say, P.K."
"Damn straight whatever I say," P.K. says. "But really, man, congratulations."
"Thanks," Brandon says. "It's not public knowledge yet, so keep it under your hat for a bit until we get all that figured out."
P.K. raises his eyebrows. "But you told me? I'm honored, Brandon."
"Yeah, yeah," Brandon says. "You're going to be the captain if they don't fuck it up." He pauses before he adds, "And you're one of my closest friends."
P.K. laughs. "I might be the captain," he says, and that's that for the baby talk.
*
After that conversation, Brandon texts Alex. I have to start telling people soon. Like management and the press. Do you want everyone to know you're the other father?
How did it go with your parents? Alex's first text back says. Mine were mad I wasn't careful. They'll love the baby.
That doesn't answer Brandon's question, and he's not sure how to read between the lines of that to know what Alex's parents actually think. He's saved from having to figure it out by Alex's next text.
Yes. It's our baby. I want to be part of it.
I have a meeting with management in a couple of days to talk about what I want to do, Brandon sends back. I'll let them know it's both of us.
It takes a couple of minutes for Alex to reply to that, and when he does, he says, I can come up for that.
Then it's Brandon's turn to take a couple of minutes to reply while he thinks that through, if it'll look better to have Alex there or not.
I'll take care of it, he finally sends. It might be better in some ways for them to put up a united front, but in the end, he wants to just deal with it and be done with it. And that means he should probably call his agent. At this rate, his entire pregnancy is just going to be a series of conversations he doesn't want to have.
*
Alex shows up at Brandon's door a week before training camp starts. And, yes, Brandon is keeping track of that. It's still his team, even if he's not allowed back on the ice until sometime after the baby is born.
"Hi," Brandon says when he opens the door.
"Hi," Alex says with an uncertain little wave. "I was going to bring dinner, but I didn't know what you want."
"We can order something," Brandon says. "Come in." He turns around from closing the door to find Alex very, very close to him.
Alex folds him into a gentle hug, and it feels so good that Brandon leans into it and hugs him back.
"Hi," Alex says again. He pulls back a little and looks at Brandon before he reaches one hand down and rests it against Brandon's stomach. "Hi, baby."
"It can't hear you yet," Brandon says. His voice is thick with emotion, fucking pregnancy hormones. He clears his throat. "I looked it up."
Alex rubs Brandon's stomach, a gentle touch that outlines the slowly growing curve of Brandon's body. "When will it hear me?"
Brandon clears his throat again. "Another couple of weeks."
Alex pats Brandon's stomach. "I will wait to talk to it until then."
"Yeah," Brandon says. He and Alex look at each other for too long. Brandon is the one to turn away. "You can talk to me now. How was your summer?" He knows a little bit about it because they texted some, Brandon sending reports from his visits to the specialist and Alex sending the occasional random text or picture from the beach.
Alex tells him the rest, stories about training and his family and South Beach. Brandon orders dinner and tells Alex about visiting his family and working with the trainers to find a routine that will still let him stay in shape without endangering the baby.
They're winding down, picking at the end of their dinners, when Alex hesitantly says, "I didn't see an announcement about the baby."
"Miscarriages are more common in the first trimester," Brandon says, fighting to keep his voice even despite how much the thought freaks him out now that he's settled into wanting the baby. "We decided not to make the official announcement until after that. They'll do it as part of the training camp stuff."
"Oh," Alex says. "But everything's okay with the baby?"
"Yes," Brandon hurries to reassure him, not liking the worry in Alex's expression. Alex almost never looks worried. "I promise I would tell you if it wasn't."
"Okay," Alex says, but he doesn't look entirely reassured.
"The baby's fine," Brandon says. He reaches for Alex's hand and puts it on his stomach.
"Your stomach isn't a lot bigger," Alex says.
"Not yet. The baby's still pretty small."
Alex looks at Brandon, and at his stomach, and then scoots over, right next to him. He switches hands, so the other one is on Brandon's stomach and the one that was there is around Brandon's shoulders instead.
"But it's bigger. It feels different."
It doesn't feel too different to Brandon yet, but he has a flash of sense memory of Alex's hands all over him, and, yeah, if anyone would know how different it feels, it would be him.
"It'll get a lot bigger soon." Brandon looks down at Alex's hand on his stomach, the way it still looks big against him and probably won't by the time the baby makes him look like a beach ball.
They're basically cuddling, and Alex doesn't seem like he's inclined to move anytime soon. It should be strange, but, hell, it's not stranger than being pregnant with their kid.
*
The announcement goes out as part of the training camp roster press release, so everyone already knows when Brandon shows up at the rink for the first day of camp. He's not playing, no reason to participate in all the fitness testing, can't go out on the ice, but it's still his team.
"Look who it is," Weaver yells when Brandon goes to the locker room. "Got yourself knocked up. Didn't think we'd see you."
"Fuck off," Brandon says, but he laughs and accepts Mike's more or less gentle hug. "Like I'd miss the chance to watch you suffer through fitness testing."
"Can I see your baby bump?" Gally asks.
"My- No," Brandon says, laughing and shoving good-naturedly at Gally. "Is that what you do now that you live alone? Keep up on baby bumps?"
Gally grins at him. "Have to do something with my time."
"You need a life." Brandon hugs him, and it turns into a bit of jostling, and then Alex is there pushing Gally away.
"Be careful," Alex says, scowling at Gally.
Gally almost doubles over with laughter. "Oh, fuck, is this what you're going to be like until the baby's born?"
Alex crosses his arms over his chest and scowls harder. It's funny, but also Brandon probably shouldn't let him set a precedent here.
Brandon puts his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Chill out," he says.
Alex turns his scowl on Brandon. "He could have-"
"Him?" Brandon gestures at Gally and stands up as tall and broad as he can manage. "He couldn't hurt me." He lowers his voice, so he's talking just to Alex. "And do you really think I'm going to let anything happen to the baby?"
Alex drops his arms and eases up on the scowl. "No."
"All right," Brandon says. "Then chill." He grins and raises his voice a little. "I promise I'll let you be the one to beat up anyone who gets too rough."
That gets a wave of laughter, and even Alex relents enough to smile.
*
Alex comes over every day all through training camp, bringing dinner and cuddling up to Brandon, hand resting on his stomach, when they're done eating.
"You know," Brandon says, leaning against his own kitchen counter watching Alex put their food onto plates, "you don't have to provide for me and the baby. I can order takeout myself."
Alex's mouth goes flat and tight. "It is my baby too. I want to be here and know how it is going."
"It's fine," Brandon says slowly. "You know I would tell you if it wasn't."
"Yes, but I want to be here," Alex says. "I want to be part of it."
"Okay," Brandon says. "Thank you for bringing dinner."
"You're welcome," Alex says, eyeing Brandon like he thinks there's a trick involved.
Brandon holds up his hands to silently show he doesn't mean anything other than what he said.
Alex hands him a plate, and before he can move away, Brandon takes his hand and puts it over his stomach. "Okay," Brandon says.
Alex looks down, at their hands resting over where the baby is growing. He's smiling, mostly around his eyes, when he looks up. It makes something bloom in Brandon's chest, something soft and tender, and oh, fuck everything if this is how the pregnancy hormones are going to keep making him feel.
Alex curls up next to him on the couch after they eat like he usually does, one arm around Brandon's shoulders and the other hand resting on his stomach.
What isn't usual is that about when he would normally leave, he instead turns to Brandon and asks, "Can I stay?"
Brandon's breath catches, and he fights against that same tender feeling in his chest. They're having a baby together, and they hooked up more than just the once, but they're not dating. They're not a family, no matter what Brandon's fucking hormones are trying to tell him.
"Alex," he says, trying to find a way to say no even though he doesn't quite want to, likes the way Alex touches him and fits against him.
"Just to sleep," Alex says. He rubs Brandon's stomach gently. "Please?"
Brandon crumbles under that, the way Alex is touching him and the baby, the hopeful note in his voice. "Yeah, okay," he says, and he gets up to find Alex a spare toothbrush and some pajamas to borrow.
When he goes to bed, Brandon lies down on his side like Doctor Leblanc, Doctor V, and everything he's read about pregnancy has told him to do. Too uncomfortable to try to lie on his stomach, and lying on his back can do weird things to blood flow.
Alex turns out the light before he fumbles his way through Brandon's bedroom to the bed. He lies down behind Brandon, and Brandon can feel him moving around for a few seconds before he seems to decide to settle. Where he settles is close up against Brandon's back, one arm draped over him, hand resting on the still small curve of Brandon's stomach over the baby.
"Is this okay?" Alex asks.
"Yes," Brandon says, because even if it's a bad idea to get used to this when they're not actually together, it feels good to have Alex there with him and the baby, good to have Alex at his back and proving that he wants this baby.
*
Brandon goes to the scrimmage at the end of training camp and the first few preseason games at home, sitting in the press box in suits that are too tight but still wearable. Barely. He's going to have to go shopping soon. For paternity clothes. It's too much to think about, so he doesn't, puts all his focus into watching the games instead, accepts it when Alex comes home with him afterward and falls asleep in his bed.
"The baby can probably hear now," Alex says when he comes over on the Saturday between the game in Quebec City and the next one at home. "Can I talk to it?"
Brandon settles in against the back of the couch and gestures at his stomach. "Knock yourself out."
Alex leans in close, one hand cupping Brandon's stomach, and starts to talk. In Russian.
Brandon thunks his head against the back of the couch. "I'm never going to understand anything you say to this kid."
"You could learn Russian," Alex says. "It's good for kids to hear the language at home that they won't hear outside to learn both languages."
Brandon lifts his head and looks at Alex's very earnest face. "Are you just making shit up now?"
"No! I read about it on the internet." Alex rubs his thumb over the curve of Brandon's stomach. "You shouldn't swear now that the baby can hear it."
Brandon says, "This is going to be a very long pregnancy," but it turns out to be kind of soothing to just sit there and listen to Alex talk to the baby. Brandon can't understand it anyway, so he can just let the sound of Alex's voice wash over him.
Brandon wakes up to Alex shaking his shoulder. "Prusty," he says.
"I was sleeping," Brandon mumbles.
"I know. Come to bed." Alex tugs Brandon up off the couch and guides him to the bedroom, which is nice because it means Brandon doesn't even have to open his eyes all the way.
Brandon flops into bed and tugs the blankets up over his shoulders. He's mostly back to sleep by the time Alex joins him, spooning up against him and saying goodnight to him and something in Russian to the baby. Brandon blames a combination of the damn pregnancy hormones and being half asleep for the way it makes his heart thump.
*
The preseason ends, and the season begins, with a string of away games with just one last preseason home game in between. Alex shoots worried looks at Brandon before he leaves on both road trips, corners of his mouth turned down.
"Get out of here," Brandon says, gentler than his usual chirping because Alex looks so worried. "We'll be fine."
Alex doesn't look any less worried. "You will call me if anything happens."
"Yes," Brandon says. "I'll call you, but nothing's going to happen." He puts his hands on Alex's biceps and rubs them up and down. "We're going to be fine."
Alex still doesn't look any less worried, but he grabs Brandon in a tight hug and holds on for a long while before he leaves.
Their goodbye before the second road trip is a lot like the first one, except that before he leaves, Alex presses a soft, short kiss to Brandon's lips. It's so quick, and the last thing Alex does before he walks out the door, that Brandon doesn't even have time to react to it until after Alex is gone. Even then, he doesn't know quite what to think about it. He likes it, but he also doesn't know exactly what it means to Alex, or even to him. The pregnancy hormones are probably messing with his perceptions. That's what they're for, right? Making him want a stable family for the baby.
That's definitely what makes him almost tear up the first night, when Alex calls to say hi and then asks to talk to the baby.
Brandon puts him on speakerphone and listens to him monologue in Russian for a few minutes.
"Prusty, you there?"
"You're talking to my stomach," Brandon says. "Where else would I be?"
"I miss being there and talking to the baby," Alex says.
"You'd better get used to it," Brandon says. "You're going to be away a lot."
"I know," Alex says. "Are you getting used to it?"
"It still feels a little like it's just the offseason for me," Brandon says. "I miss being on the ice."
"It's not the same without you," Alex says.
Brandon tamps down all the things the hormones are probably making him feel, about Alex and about not being on the ice, and says, lightly, "Of course it's not. I'm irreplaceable."
Alex laughs a little, which makes the whole thing seem less fraught, even if it does make Brandon miss seeing him laugh.
"Play hard out there," Brandon says. "Bring home lots of points."
"We will," Alex says with absolute confidence. "Make sure you watch the games and tell the baby how good I'm doing."
Brandon laughs. "Maybe I'll just watch old games and tell the baby how good I am."
"Only if you also tell it how good I am."
Brandon's still laughing at Alex's competitive nature when he hangs up.
Alex calls every night, and Brandon watches all the games. When Alex scores, Brandon lets out a whoop. "Your other dad just scored a sweet goal," he tells the baby. He rewinds the DVR and mutes the announcers so he can talk the baby through the goal.
"Your other dad is really good at this," Brandon tells the baby when he unmutes the game and watches as the announcers go through the replay. "You're lucky to have both of our genes."
*
Alex comes over the day after they get back from their season-opening road trip. He doesn't call or text ahead of time, just knocks on Brandon's door.
"Hi," Alex says, and he leans in to brush a kiss over Brandon's lips before he says something in Russian to the baby.
Brandon blinks for a second; apparently kissing is a thing they're doing now. He belatedly lets Alex in and closes the door.
"I could have been busy, you know."
"But you're not." Alex looks him up and down. "You don't look very different."
"You were gone for a week," Brandon says. "The baby's not growing that fast." Then, because Alex is still staring at his stomach, Brandon reaches for Alex's hand and brings it to rest over the curve of the baby.
"Oh," Alex says. "I almost forget what it feels like." He looks almost wondering, and then he smiles at Brandon. "P.K. is organizing lunch with some of the guys."
"I know," Brandon says. "He texted me."
"We should go," Alex says.
"I was planning to," Brandon says. Alex hasn't moved his hand, and the angle has to be getting tiring; Brandon certainly feels weird standing around just inside the door with Alex's hand on his stomach. "Do you want to come talk to the baby for a while first?"
"Yes," Alex says. He follows close behind Brandon, into the living room and onto the couch. They settle in like they usually do, one of Alex's arms around Brandon's shoulders and the other hand on Brandon's stomach.
Brandon relaxes into it; this has already become enough of a routine that he missed it while Alex was gone.
"Did you talk to the baby while I was gone?" Alex asks.
"I did." Brandon rubs his stomach. "This baby is going to hear so much of our voices by the time it's born."
Alex grins at him. "Did you tell it how good I am?"
Brandon laughs. "I did actually. You had a pretty good goal."
Alex positively beams at him. "I know I did."
Brandon's still laughing when Alex starts talking to the baby in Russian.
"Don't fall asleep," Alex says a little while later. "We're going to lunch."
"I'm not asleep," Brandon says, even though he was probably headed that way. "I was just resting my eyes." He rubs his eyes, waking himself all the way up. "Okay, let's go."
Brandon insists on driving - "I'm not an invalid" - and they're still good-naturedly bickering about it when they get to the restaurant.
"Prusty!" P.K. greets him with a large hug.
"Hey," Brandon says. "I guess you managed to win a couple without me out there."
P.K. laughs. "A few of them, a few of them."
Lunch is good, reminding Brandon he's still a part of the team even if he can't be out there on the ice with them.
Gally leans around Alex to ask, "How's the baby?"
"Good." Brandon rubs his stomach.
"I figured since Chucky had to call and talk to it every single day."
"Shut up," Alex says, and Brandon doesn't see it, but the way Gally moves probably means Alex elbowed him.
Gally laughs. "When that kid is born, he's going to make you Skype every day and then I'm going to have to listen to him and you and the baby."
"You don't have to stay in the room," Alex says.
"It's my room!"
Brandon tunes out their argument in favor of talking to P.K., Carey, and Mike.
When they go home - Brandon holds tight to the keys so Alex can't insist on driving - Alex follows Brandon into his apartment.
"I'm going to take a nap," Alex says.
"You could go do that at your own house," Brandon says.
"This way I am near the baby," Alex says, like that's perfectly reasonable. "You could move in with me, and then I could be near the baby and at my own house."
"I'm not moving in with you," Brandon says. "You were gone for a week, and the baby and I were fine. Weren't you taking a nap?"
"Yes," Alex says, and he gives up the conversation for the moment. Brandon's sure it's not over forever. "Are you coming?"
Brandon says no, but twenty minutes later he crawls into bed with Alex and drops off for a nap.
*
"I'm fine," Brandon says when Alex answers his phone, "and the baby's fine, but I'm in the hospital."
"What? Why? What happened?"
"It's fine," Brandon says. He feels a little bit sheepish about it now. "I got dizzy and passed out. I scraped my arm on the corner of the counter when I fell. I freaked out a little bit and called 9-1-1 when I woke up."
"You fell? Where are you? I am coming."
"You don't have to do that," Brandon says. "I'm fine."
"I'm getting into my car," Alex says. "Where are you?"
Brandon tells him, and then waits in what is, despite the presence of his phone and a TV, a really boring hospital room until Alex gets there.
The first thing Alex says when he gets there is, "You fell?"
"Yeah, but I'm fine now," Brandon says. "And the baby's fine." It doesn't do anything to take the pinched, worried look off of Alex's face.
"You fell," Alex says again.
Brandon sighs and pushes himself to sit up a little straighter in the half reclined hospital bed so maybe he won't look so pathetic, although there's nothing he can do about the hospital gown. "I got a little dehydrated and probably let my blood sugar get low, and I passed out." He holds out an arm to Alex. "The baby's fine. Come talk to it."
Alex settles carefully onto the bed next to him. His hand is feather light when he rests it on Brandon's stomach, and he sweeps his thumb up and down the curve of it while he speaks softly to the baby.
"We're fine," Brandon says. "They're going to let me go home as soon as Dr. Leblanc signs off on it."
"You're coming home with me," Alex says firmly.
"I'm fine," Brandon tries to say, but Alex shakes his head.
"You fell. You are coming to stay with me."
"For tonight," Brandon says, because Alex seems pretty freaked out. Hell, Brandon understands that; he was pretty freaked out earlier.
"Not just tonight," Alex says. "You are moving in with me."
"Alex," Brandon says.
Alex shakes his head. "You are moving in with me." His face twists into something pained. "Or you should move home with your parents."
That shocks Brandon enough that he can't come up with an objection right away.
"Pregnancy is dangerous," Alex says, "especially for men. You shouldn't be alone."
Brandon cups the back of Alex's head, rubs his hair. "I'll come stay with you tonight," he says. "We'll figure out the rest of it tomorrow."
Alex doesn't look exactly happy about that, but he agrees to it, and he alternates pestering Brandon about how he feels and talking to the baby while they wait for Doctor Leblanc to show up.
Brandon finished freaking out before he called Alex, but it's still comforting to have Alex there with him, taking up half the hospital bed and cuddled up under his arm, the familiar sound of him talking to the baby in a language Brandon can't understand.
Brandon figures it must be obvious what part Alex has in all of this by the way he's sharing the bed with him, so he doesn't bother with explanations and just introduces him by name when Doctor Leblanc comes in.
"I feel kind of silly," Brandon admits.
"No," Doctor Leblanc says. "We'd rather have you come in than not." He looks through Brandon's chart and asks him a few questions. "I'm going to release you on the condition that you have someone stay with you tonight."
Alex looks smug. "He will stay with me."
"Good," Doctor Leblanc says. "I had my office make an appointment for you for early next week." He hands an appointment card to Brandon. "Just a precautionary follow-up to make sure everything's okay."
It still takes a while after that for them to let Brandon leave.
"Does your family know I'm coming?" Brandon thinks to ask when they pull up outside Alex's house.
"I texted my mom," Alex says. He hovers around Brandon as they walk to the door.
"You know I can walk," Brandon says, only half of it real annoyance. "You sure your family's cool with this?"
"Yes," Alex says, and Brandon can't tell from his tone if he means it or if he means they're going to stick it out and give his family no choice but to be okay with it. He calls out something in Russian when they go into the house.
Alex's mom comes to meet them.
"Hi," Brandon says, and then doesn't know what else to do. How are you supposed to greet your unborn baby's other grandmother when you're showing up to stay at her house?
"Hello," Alex's mom says. She steps forward, hovering kind of like Alex hovered on the way up to the house. "You are okay?"
"Yeah," Brandon says. He pats his stomach. "The baby and I are fine."
"Good," Alex's mom says. "That's good." She steps closer, and hugs Brandon. It's awkward all the way around, but he kind of pats her shoulder and returns the hug.
"I don't know what to call you," Brandon admits, as long as they're being awkward.
"You can call me Inna," Alex's mom says after a moment, like she hasn't thought about it either. "Are you hungry?"
"No," Brandon says. He will be in a while, but not yet. "Thank you."
"You need to drink more water," Alex says. He puts his arm around Brandon. "Come sit on the couch. I'll get you some."
Brandon thinks about arguing, but he probably does need to drink some more water. He lets Alex lead him to the couch and bring him some water. The way Alex watches him drink it is probably unnecessary, but it's not as annoying as it could be, so Brandon doesn't complain about it.
Inna makes dinner later, and Brandon, Alex, and Alex's family make slightly stilted conversation while they eat. Brandon probably should have pinned Alex down on how his parents feel about the baby before this.
"You can stay with me," Alex says when Brandon's starting to get tired. He says it firmly, and Brandon's not sure if that's to dissuade him from arguing about it or his parents.
Alex has one of the master bedrooms - "The house has two," he explains - and he digs out pajamas for Brandon and finds him a toothbrush.
In bed, Alex spoons up against Brandon's back, arm draped over him, hand spread out over his stomach.
"You are really okay," Alex says, half question and half statement.
"Yes." Brandon puts his hand over Alex's. "I'm fine. The baby's fine. It wasn't that big a deal." Even though it felt like it in the moment.
"How are you not worried about it?" Alex asks, words muffled where he's pressing his face into the back of Brandon's neck.
"I was." Brandon laces his fingers with Alex's. "I didn't call you until after I was done freaking out."
"You should call me," Alex says. "I want to be here for these things."
Brandon's heart thumps in his chest, one of those moments when he feels something so unbearably tender that he almost can't breathe. Fucking hormones.
"Okay," he says, keeping his voice steady. "I hope nothing like that happens again, but if it does, I'll call you."
Part 2
Notes: Title from Mumford & Sons' "Timshel." Many thanks to Lake for helping me make this story better, and thanks to everyone who answered miscellaneous questions on Twitter.
Story on AO3
Brandon has the TV on in the lounge. He could be doing something else, but he's a little too preoccupied with the knowledge that something is not quite right with his body for video games, and it's too early in the summer for the most strenuous part of his training yet. Besides, he's not here for training today.
He's not really paying any attention to what he's watching, and he clicks it off when Doctor V comes to get him.
"Sit down, Brandon," Doctor V says when they get to the medical office.
Brandon sits, suddenly nervous with how serious Doctor V is being. "So what is it?"
"I won't sugarcoat it," Doctor V says, which Brandon appreciates. "You're pregnant."
Later Brandon will probably appreciate that Doctor V pauses and lets him absorb that. In the moment, everything in his mind goes blank. When it comes back, it's a jumble of questions, and he has to work to pull out just one to throw at Doctor V.
"What now?"
"We'll send you to a specialist to talk to you in more detail," Doctor V says, "but you have two options. You can terminate. We do it as an outpatient procedure, you'll be a little sore for a week or so, but it shouldn't affect your summer training. Or you can carry to term. You'll be on leave for the season. We'll work with you on what you can do while you're pregnant and what we can do to help you get in shape afterwards."
Brandon's mind is still whirling. "But no one in my family's ever been a carrier."
Doctor V nods. "That's in your medical history. But we still don't understand the science behind it, and sometimes men can be carriers even when there's no family history of it."
Fuck, Brandon thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He thanks Doctor V for his time and puts the information about his specialist appointment into his phone.
He tries not to think about it much in the two days between that and his appointment, just keeps sleeping too much, getting tired out from doing nothing.
Doctor Leblanc, the specialist, tells him much the same thing Doctor V did, with way more detail, exactly what termination and carrying to term will do to his body.
"You're about five weeks along," Doctor Leblanc says.
"Six," Brandon says.
"Six weeks, then," Doctor Leblanc says, "if you're sure."
Brandon's sure. The night they lost game six to the Rangers. They'd flown home after, everyone quiet and angry on the plane, Alex following him to his car instead of getting a ride with Gally, insisting they go to Brandon's.
They'd hooked up before, quick handjobs or blowjobs, just blowing off steam. That night, they'd both been angry and hurt, crashing against each other, Alex pushing and pushing and pushing. He'd opened himself up, told Brandon he was clean and goaded him into fucking him, Alex on his hands and knees and Brandon fucking into him hard and harder and harder.
The second time, later, after they'd slept for a while, Brandon woke up when Alex turned on the lamp next to his bed. Alex had opened him up that time, his fingers slow and careful inside of Brandon. He'd lain over Brandon, rocking into him in soft, barely there thrusts while they looked at each other and kissed, soft and open-mouthed. Something had burned in Brandon's throat, and then that feeling spread, until he was burning with the touch of Alex's body everywhere, and it burned away the lingering taste of disappointment from the game.
Alex was gone when Brandon woke up in the morning.
Brandon didn't see him again until locker cleanout day, when they hugged goodbye just like they were hugging everyone else. He hasn't heard from Alex since.
"I'm sure," he tells Doctor Leblanc.
"Six weeks along gives you a few weeks to decide what you're going to do," Doctor Leblanc says. "But there's a limited window if you choose to terminate."
"Okay," Brandon says numbly. This isn't a decision he wants to have to make.
He asks Doctor Leblanc about the family history thing, hoping he knows more than Doctor V does.
"Unfortunately," Doctor Leblanc says, "family history is not always a reliable indicator. There are multiple genes involved in being a carrier, and we're only just now starting to understand the details. There is a theory that two men with particularly compatible DNA can trigger latent carrier genes." Doctor Leblanc smiles. "Of course, many people discard that as romantic wishful thinking, but if you've engaged in this sort of sexual behavior before with other partners and not gotten pregnant, it's a possible explanation."
Brandon leaves with a stack of pamphlets, a deadline for when he has to make a decision, and no better idea of what he's going to do.
That's not entirely true. What he does is text Alex from the car in the parking lot. When are you coming back to MTL?
By the time he gets home, he has an answering text: September.
God, he really doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to ask Alex to come back, doesn't want to have to talk to him about it. But Alex is bound to find out whichever way he decides - termination is supposed to remain confidential but would probably get leaked - and Brandon doesn't want to lose his friendship because he didn't tell him. Not to mention that if it causes a problem in the locker room, Brandon's the one who'll get traded.
Brandon asks, Can you come back sooner? Next two weeks?
He gets a row of question marks and then, Planning a party?
No, he sends back. Need to talk to you. In person. You can fly in and fly out the next day. Fuck. It sounds like he's trying to arrange an international booty call.
Is this a prank? Alex asks. He's so suspicious.
No. It's important. I wouldn't ask otherwise.
You could come to South Beach, Alex suggests.
He could, but then he'd have to see Alex's family, and he'd rather have this conversation just the two of them. Preferably on home turf. He sends, Please?
Brandon makes a snack while he's waiting for Alex to reply. He's halfway through his sandwich when he gets, OK. Will be there on Thursday. Brandon sends back an acknowledgement, finishes his sandwich, and goes to take a nap because now he really is exhausted.
*
Alex shows up at Brandon's door on Thursday afternoon, and there's an awkward moment before Brandon goes in for a hug. He holds on a little bit because after today they might not be friends again.
Alex looks actually worried after that. "What is going on?"
Brandon sighs. "Sit down." He waits for Alex to sit first and then sits across from him. There's no easy way to say it, so he just leans forward and does it. "I'm pregnant. I haven't been with anyone else in a long time. It's yours. Ours." Stupid how hard it is to talk about when it was so easy to do. He glances up, and Alex is just staring at him. Just stares at him for what can't be more than a few seconds but seems like so much longer.
When he finally does speak, his face is creased with anger. "You never told me you were a carrier!"
"I'm not!" Brandon protests. "Or I didn't think I was. No one in my family has ever been a carrier. If I'd known, we wouldn't have."
"You should have known!"
"How could I?" Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Alex. "It's not like you're the first guy to fuck me, and I've never gotten pregnant before."
Alex turns red and then white and then red. Brandon would chirp him for it if he weren't so angry at Alex for being a dick.
"Anyway," Brandon says, "the doctor said some people think latent carrier genes can be triggered by compatible DNA, so maybe this happened because of you. It was your idea," he adds meanly.
Brandon wanted it, all of it except this last part, but it was Alex's idea, even the first time, Alex the one to close the space between them in a hotel room in Raleigh. He'd disappeared after that one, too, not talking to Brandon for the first week of the Olympic break and pretending nothing was different after that, at least until the next time.
"You wanted it too," Alex says. He stands up. "Why did you even tell me?"
Brandon scowls at him. "Because I'm not the only one involved here, and you would never talk to me again if I didn't."
"I don't want to talk to you now." Alex slams the door when he leaves.
"Fuck," Brandon says into the suddenly quiet room. Then he goes to take a nap, because what else is there to do?
*
Alex comes back in the evening, with a bag that smells heavenly. He holds it up when Brandon answers the door. "Sorry," he says.
Brandon sighs. "If I'd had someone to yell at when I found out, I probably would have." He lets Alex in. "I'm sorry too."
Alex spreads the containers of Chinese food out on the coffee table, and Brandon gets them plates and forks.
"The sweet and sour pork is all mine," Brandon says while they're divvying up the food. "You stay out of it." It's the same thing he would say if things weren't weird between them, and Alex pointedly takes a piece of it the same way he normally would.
Brandon doesn't try to rush into conversation while they eat, and lets Alex be the one to ask, "So what happens now?"
"I can terminate," Brandon says, "and get right back to summer training. Or I can carry to term. I'll miss the whole season and have a baby at the end." He's been trying not to think of it as a baby, not unless he decides to carry to term.
"What are you going to do?" Alex asks.
"I don't know," Brandon says. He scoops the rest of the sweet and sour pork onto his plate. "What-" He takes a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?" He risks looking over at Alex, whose eyes have gone wide and startled.
"It's, um, your body," Alex says. "And your career."
"And if I carry to term, it'll be your baby too," Brandon points out.
"What do you want to do?" Alex asks.
Brandon eats a piece of sweet and sour pork, glad he's hungry and not nauseous this evening. "I don't know," he says. "If I have it, it's a year out of my career. It might be the end of my career."
Alex looks alarmed at that. "Guys come back after they have a baby."
"Not guys my age," Brandon says. "Although mostly guys my age manage not to get pregnant in the first place."
Alex winces.
"I always thought I would have kids," Brandon continues. "Not this way, but," he shrugs, "I do want them."
"I want them too," Alex says hesitantly. "I never think I have kids this young."
"Yeah," Brandon says, because that's part of the decision they have to make. He's probably ready to take on the responsibility of raising a child, and Alex can't even buy his own drinks on road trips to the US.
"Do you want this baby?" Alex asks, his words still slow and careful.
Brandon has been trying not to think about it as a baby, not to get attached before he makes a decision. He lets himself do it now, thinks about a kid growing up with Alex's nose and his chin, a kid with a competitive streak a mile wide but an easy laugh. It's harder, once he's done that, to think about terminating.
"If I have this kid," Brandon says, feeling it out, "it has to be both of us. We have to both be parents to it."
"Of course," Alex says, looking offended at the suggestion that he might do anything else, which actually makes sense if Brandon thinks about it. Alex may be young, but he is very responsible.
Brandon turns the question around on him. "Do you want this kid?"
Alex nods slowly. "I think, if you want it, then I do too."
Brandon takes a bite of the sweet and sour pork to give himself a minute to think. Not that he hasn't been thinking, but he hasn't been taking Alex into account the same way he can when he knows Alex is going to step up and be the kid's other parent if he keeps it. It makes it harder to ignore the part of him that really, really thinks he should keep it, no matter what Alex wants.
"It's not going to be easy," Brandon says, "and there are a lot of things we have to figure out."
Alex nods. "But we are going to do this?"
"Yeah," Brandon says. "I guess we're having a baby." It's probably a stupid decision. Possibly the stupidest decision he's ever made. But it feels right.
Then Alex ruins it by saying, "You should move in with me."
Brandon laughs. "Yeah, you and your parents and your sister."
There's a look on Alex's face that says he's about to be annoyingly stubborn. "Yes," he says. "You will not have to be alone. And my mom has been pregnant. She can help."
"Alex," Brandon says, "I'm not moving in with you and your family."
"It makes sense," Alex insists.
"It does not make sense. We're not even dating." They're not, and they probably should have talked about what they were doing long before this.
Alex goes completely blank for a few seconds. "But we are having a baby."
"Plenty of people have babies without living together," Brandon points out. "Or with their baby's other grandparents."
Alex presses his lips together tightly. "I could live with you," he says.
Brandon almost laughs at how insistent Alex is about this, but the serious look on Alex's face stops him. "We're not together," he says. "We're not living together."
"What about when the baby is here?"
"We don't have to figure that out tonight," Brandon says. "We have seven months until that happens. Eat your dinner."
Alex reaches over and takes a piece of Brandon's sweet and sour pork.
"Hey," Brandon says, "I said eat your dinner, not mine."
Alex grins at him unrepentantly and takes another piece.
"You know you're not just taking that from me," Brandon says. "You're taking it from the baby."
Alex looks guilty for about half a second, and then he laughs and shoves at Brandon's shoulder. "Are you going to use that as an excuse for the next seven months?"
"What excuse? That's a very good reason for me to get what I want."
Things lighten up, and they talk about things other than Brandon's pregnancy while they finish dinner.
When they're done eating, Alex asks, "Can I, uh, touch?"
Brandon looks down at himself since Alex seems to be looking at his midsection. "You can't feel anything," he says. "I'm not even showing yet." When that doesn't stop Alex from looking at him, he holds his arms out from his sides. "Fine, go ahead."
Alex scoots closer and puts one hand on Brandon's stomach. "It feels the same."
"I told you so," Brandon says.
Alex leans closer into Brandon's side. "Can I talk to it?"
"I don't think it has ears yet," Brandon says. He's not sure about that, but he's not even two months along; it probably hasn't developed much yet.
Brandon turns his head to look at Alex when he doesn't say anything.
Alex shifts his focus from Brandon's stomach to his face. "We're having a baby," he says, sounded awed about it.
And maybe they've been talking about it off and on all day, but, yeah, they're having a baby, which Brandon never could have predicted, and that's pretty amazing. "Yeah," Brandon says.
They're very close, barely any space between them, and Alex leans in and kisses him, soft and almost reverent.
Brandon eases out of the kiss after a minute, and rests his forehead against Alex's. "Alex," he says softly, and he's not sure if he means it as a plea for more or a rejection of anything at all.
Alex nods and backs off. "My flight is early tomorrow."
They clean up from dinner, and Brandon walks Alex to the door. "We'll figure out the rest of it," Brandon says.
Alex nods, eyes serious and careful. "Yes, we will."
They hug, Alex's arms gentle around him, but don't kiss again.
*
After Alex, Brandon tells his parents first. They're a mix of flabbergasted that he could get pregnant at all and excited about getting another grandchild.
He FaceTimes P.K. next. They shoot the shit about how their summers have been so far before Brandon brings it up.
"I'm not going to be playing next year."
P.K. immediately looks concerned. "Why? What's going on?"
"I'm pregnant."
P.K. stares at him, and then chuckles. "Nice one, bud."
"No," Brandon says, "I really am."
P.K.'s laughter cuts off, and he squints at Brandon through the screen. "Why the fuck would you do that? Your biological clock ticking?"
"Way to make me feel worse about it," Brandon says. "I didn't know it could happen. No family history."
"Well, shit," P.K. says.
"Pretty much," Brandon says.
P.K. hmms a little. "You tell Chucky yet?"
Brandon starts to ask, "Why would I-" before P.K.'s unimpressed look makes him cut himself off. "Yeah," he says. "I did. We decided together to keep it."
"All right," P.K. says. "Well, congratulations. How's he dealing with it?"
Brandon shrugs. "Okay." That's enough to encompass Alex yelling and then coming around to it. "He wants me to move in with him and his parents and sister."
P.K. hmms again. "That wouldn't be the worst idea."
"Don't you start too," Brandon says. "We're not dating, and I'm not moving in with him so his mom can take care of me while I'm pregnant."
"Hey, all right," P.K. says. "But when you decide you don't want to go through your pregnancy alone, just remember that you have an offer from your baby daddy and you're not sleeping on my couch."
P.K. has a spare room and would never turn away a friend in need, so that's all a lie. Brandon shakes his head and says, "Whatever you say, P.K."
"Damn straight whatever I say," P.K. says. "But really, man, congratulations."
"Thanks," Brandon says. "It's not public knowledge yet, so keep it under your hat for a bit until we get all that figured out."
P.K. raises his eyebrows. "But you told me? I'm honored, Brandon."
"Yeah, yeah," Brandon says. "You're going to be the captain if they don't fuck it up." He pauses before he adds, "And you're one of my closest friends."
P.K. laughs. "I might be the captain," he says, and that's that for the baby talk.
*
After that conversation, Brandon texts Alex. I have to start telling people soon. Like management and the press. Do you want everyone to know you're the other father?
How did it go with your parents? Alex's first text back says. Mine were mad I wasn't careful. They'll love the baby.
That doesn't answer Brandon's question, and he's not sure how to read between the lines of that to know what Alex's parents actually think. He's saved from having to figure it out by Alex's next text.
Yes. It's our baby. I want to be part of it.
I have a meeting with management in a couple of days to talk about what I want to do, Brandon sends back. I'll let them know it's both of us.
It takes a couple of minutes for Alex to reply to that, and when he does, he says, I can come up for that.
Then it's Brandon's turn to take a couple of minutes to reply while he thinks that through, if it'll look better to have Alex there or not.
I'll take care of it, he finally sends. It might be better in some ways for them to put up a united front, but in the end, he wants to just deal with it and be done with it. And that means he should probably call his agent. At this rate, his entire pregnancy is just going to be a series of conversations he doesn't want to have.
*
Alex shows up at Brandon's door a week before training camp starts. And, yes, Brandon is keeping track of that. It's still his team, even if he's not allowed back on the ice until sometime after the baby is born.
"Hi," Brandon says when he opens the door.
"Hi," Alex says with an uncertain little wave. "I was going to bring dinner, but I didn't know what you want."
"We can order something," Brandon says. "Come in." He turns around from closing the door to find Alex very, very close to him.
Alex folds him into a gentle hug, and it feels so good that Brandon leans into it and hugs him back.
"Hi," Alex says again. He pulls back a little and looks at Brandon before he reaches one hand down and rests it against Brandon's stomach. "Hi, baby."
"It can't hear you yet," Brandon says. His voice is thick with emotion, fucking pregnancy hormones. He clears his throat. "I looked it up."
Alex rubs Brandon's stomach, a gentle touch that outlines the slowly growing curve of Brandon's body. "When will it hear me?"
Brandon clears his throat again. "Another couple of weeks."
Alex pats Brandon's stomach. "I will wait to talk to it until then."
"Yeah," Brandon says. He and Alex look at each other for too long. Brandon is the one to turn away. "You can talk to me now. How was your summer?" He knows a little bit about it because they texted some, Brandon sending reports from his visits to the specialist and Alex sending the occasional random text or picture from the beach.
Alex tells him the rest, stories about training and his family and South Beach. Brandon orders dinner and tells Alex about visiting his family and working with the trainers to find a routine that will still let him stay in shape without endangering the baby.
They're winding down, picking at the end of their dinners, when Alex hesitantly says, "I didn't see an announcement about the baby."
"Miscarriages are more common in the first trimester," Brandon says, fighting to keep his voice even despite how much the thought freaks him out now that he's settled into wanting the baby. "We decided not to make the official announcement until after that. They'll do it as part of the training camp stuff."
"Oh," Alex says. "But everything's okay with the baby?"
"Yes," Brandon hurries to reassure him, not liking the worry in Alex's expression. Alex almost never looks worried. "I promise I would tell you if it wasn't."
"Okay," Alex says, but he doesn't look entirely reassured.
"The baby's fine," Brandon says. He reaches for Alex's hand and puts it on his stomach.
"Your stomach isn't a lot bigger," Alex says.
"Not yet. The baby's still pretty small."
Alex looks at Brandon, and at his stomach, and then scoots over, right next to him. He switches hands, so the other one is on Brandon's stomach and the one that was there is around Brandon's shoulders instead.
"But it's bigger. It feels different."
It doesn't feel too different to Brandon yet, but he has a flash of sense memory of Alex's hands all over him, and, yeah, if anyone would know how different it feels, it would be him.
"It'll get a lot bigger soon." Brandon looks down at Alex's hand on his stomach, the way it still looks big against him and probably won't by the time the baby makes him look like a beach ball.
They're basically cuddling, and Alex doesn't seem like he's inclined to move anytime soon. It should be strange, but, hell, it's not stranger than being pregnant with their kid.
*
The announcement goes out as part of the training camp roster press release, so everyone already knows when Brandon shows up at the rink for the first day of camp. He's not playing, no reason to participate in all the fitness testing, can't go out on the ice, but it's still his team.
"Look who it is," Weaver yells when Brandon goes to the locker room. "Got yourself knocked up. Didn't think we'd see you."
"Fuck off," Brandon says, but he laughs and accepts Mike's more or less gentle hug. "Like I'd miss the chance to watch you suffer through fitness testing."
"Can I see your baby bump?" Gally asks.
"My- No," Brandon says, laughing and shoving good-naturedly at Gally. "Is that what you do now that you live alone? Keep up on baby bumps?"
Gally grins at him. "Have to do something with my time."
"You need a life." Brandon hugs him, and it turns into a bit of jostling, and then Alex is there pushing Gally away.
"Be careful," Alex says, scowling at Gally.
Gally almost doubles over with laughter. "Oh, fuck, is this what you're going to be like until the baby's born?"
Alex crosses his arms over his chest and scowls harder. It's funny, but also Brandon probably shouldn't let him set a precedent here.
Brandon puts his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Chill out," he says.
Alex turns his scowl on Brandon. "He could have-"
"Him?" Brandon gestures at Gally and stands up as tall and broad as he can manage. "He couldn't hurt me." He lowers his voice, so he's talking just to Alex. "And do you really think I'm going to let anything happen to the baby?"
Alex drops his arms and eases up on the scowl. "No."
"All right," Brandon says. "Then chill." He grins and raises his voice a little. "I promise I'll let you be the one to beat up anyone who gets too rough."
That gets a wave of laughter, and even Alex relents enough to smile.
*
Alex comes over every day all through training camp, bringing dinner and cuddling up to Brandon, hand resting on his stomach, when they're done eating.
"You know," Brandon says, leaning against his own kitchen counter watching Alex put their food onto plates, "you don't have to provide for me and the baby. I can order takeout myself."
Alex's mouth goes flat and tight. "It is my baby too. I want to be here and know how it is going."
"It's fine," Brandon says slowly. "You know I would tell you if it wasn't."
"Yes, but I want to be here," Alex says. "I want to be part of it."
"Okay," Brandon says. "Thank you for bringing dinner."
"You're welcome," Alex says, eyeing Brandon like he thinks there's a trick involved.
Brandon holds up his hands to silently show he doesn't mean anything other than what he said.
Alex hands him a plate, and before he can move away, Brandon takes his hand and puts it over his stomach. "Okay," Brandon says.
Alex looks down, at their hands resting over where the baby is growing. He's smiling, mostly around his eyes, when he looks up. It makes something bloom in Brandon's chest, something soft and tender, and oh, fuck everything if this is how the pregnancy hormones are going to keep making him feel.
Alex curls up next to him on the couch after they eat like he usually does, one arm around Brandon's shoulders and the other hand resting on his stomach.
What isn't usual is that about when he would normally leave, he instead turns to Brandon and asks, "Can I stay?"
Brandon's breath catches, and he fights against that same tender feeling in his chest. They're having a baby together, and they hooked up more than just the once, but they're not dating. They're not a family, no matter what Brandon's fucking hormones are trying to tell him.
"Alex," he says, trying to find a way to say no even though he doesn't quite want to, likes the way Alex touches him and fits against him.
"Just to sleep," Alex says. He rubs Brandon's stomach gently. "Please?"
Brandon crumbles under that, the way Alex is touching him and the baby, the hopeful note in his voice. "Yeah, okay," he says, and he gets up to find Alex a spare toothbrush and some pajamas to borrow.
When he goes to bed, Brandon lies down on his side like Doctor Leblanc, Doctor V, and everything he's read about pregnancy has told him to do. Too uncomfortable to try to lie on his stomach, and lying on his back can do weird things to blood flow.
Alex turns out the light before he fumbles his way through Brandon's bedroom to the bed. He lies down behind Brandon, and Brandon can feel him moving around for a few seconds before he seems to decide to settle. Where he settles is close up against Brandon's back, one arm draped over him, hand resting on the still small curve of Brandon's stomach over the baby.
"Is this okay?" Alex asks.
"Yes," Brandon says, because even if it's a bad idea to get used to this when they're not actually together, it feels good to have Alex there with him and the baby, good to have Alex at his back and proving that he wants this baby.
*
Brandon goes to the scrimmage at the end of training camp and the first few preseason games at home, sitting in the press box in suits that are too tight but still wearable. Barely. He's going to have to go shopping soon. For paternity clothes. It's too much to think about, so he doesn't, puts all his focus into watching the games instead, accepts it when Alex comes home with him afterward and falls asleep in his bed.
"The baby can probably hear now," Alex says when he comes over on the Saturday between the game in Quebec City and the next one at home. "Can I talk to it?"
Brandon settles in against the back of the couch and gestures at his stomach. "Knock yourself out."
Alex leans in close, one hand cupping Brandon's stomach, and starts to talk. In Russian.
Brandon thunks his head against the back of the couch. "I'm never going to understand anything you say to this kid."
"You could learn Russian," Alex says. "It's good for kids to hear the language at home that they won't hear outside to learn both languages."
Brandon lifts his head and looks at Alex's very earnest face. "Are you just making shit up now?"
"No! I read about it on the internet." Alex rubs his thumb over the curve of Brandon's stomach. "You shouldn't swear now that the baby can hear it."
Brandon says, "This is going to be a very long pregnancy," but it turns out to be kind of soothing to just sit there and listen to Alex talk to the baby. Brandon can't understand it anyway, so he can just let the sound of Alex's voice wash over him.
Brandon wakes up to Alex shaking his shoulder. "Prusty," he says.
"I was sleeping," Brandon mumbles.
"I know. Come to bed." Alex tugs Brandon up off the couch and guides him to the bedroom, which is nice because it means Brandon doesn't even have to open his eyes all the way.
Brandon flops into bed and tugs the blankets up over his shoulders. He's mostly back to sleep by the time Alex joins him, spooning up against him and saying goodnight to him and something in Russian to the baby. Brandon blames a combination of the damn pregnancy hormones and being half asleep for the way it makes his heart thump.
*
The preseason ends, and the season begins, with a string of away games with just one last preseason home game in between. Alex shoots worried looks at Brandon before he leaves on both road trips, corners of his mouth turned down.
"Get out of here," Brandon says, gentler than his usual chirping because Alex looks so worried. "We'll be fine."
Alex doesn't look any less worried. "You will call me if anything happens."
"Yes," Brandon says. "I'll call you, but nothing's going to happen." He puts his hands on Alex's biceps and rubs them up and down. "We're going to be fine."
Alex still doesn't look any less worried, but he grabs Brandon in a tight hug and holds on for a long while before he leaves.
Their goodbye before the second road trip is a lot like the first one, except that before he leaves, Alex presses a soft, short kiss to Brandon's lips. It's so quick, and the last thing Alex does before he walks out the door, that Brandon doesn't even have time to react to it until after Alex is gone. Even then, he doesn't know quite what to think about it. He likes it, but he also doesn't know exactly what it means to Alex, or even to him. The pregnancy hormones are probably messing with his perceptions. That's what they're for, right? Making him want a stable family for the baby.
That's definitely what makes him almost tear up the first night, when Alex calls to say hi and then asks to talk to the baby.
Brandon puts him on speakerphone and listens to him monologue in Russian for a few minutes.
"Prusty, you there?"
"You're talking to my stomach," Brandon says. "Where else would I be?"
"I miss being there and talking to the baby," Alex says.
"You'd better get used to it," Brandon says. "You're going to be away a lot."
"I know," Alex says. "Are you getting used to it?"
"It still feels a little like it's just the offseason for me," Brandon says. "I miss being on the ice."
"It's not the same without you," Alex says.
Brandon tamps down all the things the hormones are probably making him feel, about Alex and about not being on the ice, and says, lightly, "Of course it's not. I'm irreplaceable."
Alex laughs a little, which makes the whole thing seem less fraught, even if it does make Brandon miss seeing him laugh.
"Play hard out there," Brandon says. "Bring home lots of points."
"We will," Alex says with absolute confidence. "Make sure you watch the games and tell the baby how good I'm doing."
Brandon laughs. "Maybe I'll just watch old games and tell the baby how good I am."
"Only if you also tell it how good I am."
Brandon's still laughing at Alex's competitive nature when he hangs up.
Alex calls every night, and Brandon watches all the games. When Alex scores, Brandon lets out a whoop. "Your other dad just scored a sweet goal," he tells the baby. He rewinds the DVR and mutes the announcers so he can talk the baby through the goal.
"Your other dad is really good at this," Brandon tells the baby when he unmutes the game and watches as the announcers go through the replay. "You're lucky to have both of our genes."
*
Alex comes over the day after they get back from their season-opening road trip. He doesn't call or text ahead of time, just knocks on Brandon's door.
"Hi," Alex says, and he leans in to brush a kiss over Brandon's lips before he says something in Russian to the baby.
Brandon blinks for a second; apparently kissing is a thing they're doing now. He belatedly lets Alex in and closes the door.
"I could have been busy, you know."
"But you're not." Alex looks him up and down. "You don't look very different."
"You were gone for a week," Brandon says. "The baby's not growing that fast." Then, because Alex is still staring at his stomach, Brandon reaches for Alex's hand and brings it to rest over the curve of the baby.
"Oh," Alex says. "I almost forget what it feels like." He looks almost wondering, and then he smiles at Brandon. "P.K. is organizing lunch with some of the guys."
"I know," Brandon says. "He texted me."
"We should go," Alex says.
"I was planning to," Brandon says. Alex hasn't moved his hand, and the angle has to be getting tiring; Brandon certainly feels weird standing around just inside the door with Alex's hand on his stomach. "Do you want to come talk to the baby for a while first?"
"Yes," Alex says. He follows close behind Brandon, into the living room and onto the couch. They settle in like they usually do, one of Alex's arms around Brandon's shoulders and the other hand on Brandon's stomach.
Brandon relaxes into it; this has already become enough of a routine that he missed it while Alex was gone.
"Did you talk to the baby while I was gone?" Alex asks.
"I did." Brandon rubs his stomach. "This baby is going to hear so much of our voices by the time it's born."
Alex grins at him. "Did you tell it how good I am?"
Brandon laughs. "I did actually. You had a pretty good goal."
Alex positively beams at him. "I know I did."
Brandon's still laughing when Alex starts talking to the baby in Russian.
"Don't fall asleep," Alex says a little while later. "We're going to lunch."
"I'm not asleep," Brandon says, even though he was probably headed that way. "I was just resting my eyes." He rubs his eyes, waking himself all the way up. "Okay, let's go."
Brandon insists on driving - "I'm not an invalid" - and they're still good-naturedly bickering about it when they get to the restaurant.
"Prusty!" P.K. greets him with a large hug.
"Hey," Brandon says. "I guess you managed to win a couple without me out there."
P.K. laughs. "A few of them, a few of them."
Lunch is good, reminding Brandon he's still a part of the team even if he can't be out there on the ice with them.
Gally leans around Alex to ask, "How's the baby?"
"Good." Brandon rubs his stomach.
"I figured since Chucky had to call and talk to it every single day."
"Shut up," Alex says, and Brandon doesn't see it, but the way Gally moves probably means Alex elbowed him.
Gally laughs. "When that kid is born, he's going to make you Skype every day and then I'm going to have to listen to him and you and the baby."
"You don't have to stay in the room," Alex says.
"It's my room!"
Brandon tunes out their argument in favor of talking to P.K., Carey, and Mike.
When they go home - Brandon holds tight to the keys so Alex can't insist on driving - Alex follows Brandon into his apartment.
"I'm going to take a nap," Alex says.
"You could go do that at your own house," Brandon says.
"This way I am near the baby," Alex says, like that's perfectly reasonable. "You could move in with me, and then I could be near the baby and at my own house."
"I'm not moving in with you," Brandon says. "You were gone for a week, and the baby and I were fine. Weren't you taking a nap?"
"Yes," Alex says, and he gives up the conversation for the moment. Brandon's sure it's not over forever. "Are you coming?"
Brandon says no, but twenty minutes later he crawls into bed with Alex and drops off for a nap.
*
"I'm fine," Brandon says when Alex answers his phone, "and the baby's fine, but I'm in the hospital."
"What? Why? What happened?"
"It's fine," Brandon says. He feels a little bit sheepish about it now. "I got dizzy and passed out. I scraped my arm on the corner of the counter when I fell. I freaked out a little bit and called 9-1-1 when I woke up."
"You fell? Where are you? I am coming."
"You don't have to do that," Brandon says. "I'm fine."
"I'm getting into my car," Alex says. "Where are you?"
Brandon tells him, and then waits in what is, despite the presence of his phone and a TV, a really boring hospital room until Alex gets there.
The first thing Alex says when he gets there is, "You fell?"
"Yeah, but I'm fine now," Brandon says. "And the baby's fine." It doesn't do anything to take the pinched, worried look off of Alex's face.
"You fell," Alex says again.
Brandon sighs and pushes himself to sit up a little straighter in the half reclined hospital bed so maybe he won't look so pathetic, although there's nothing he can do about the hospital gown. "I got a little dehydrated and probably let my blood sugar get low, and I passed out." He holds out an arm to Alex. "The baby's fine. Come talk to it."
Alex settles carefully onto the bed next to him. His hand is feather light when he rests it on Brandon's stomach, and he sweeps his thumb up and down the curve of it while he speaks softly to the baby.
"We're fine," Brandon says. "They're going to let me go home as soon as Dr. Leblanc signs off on it."
"You're coming home with me," Alex says firmly.
"I'm fine," Brandon tries to say, but Alex shakes his head.
"You fell. You are coming to stay with me."
"For tonight," Brandon says, because Alex seems pretty freaked out. Hell, Brandon understands that; he was pretty freaked out earlier.
"Not just tonight," Alex says. "You are moving in with me."
"Alex," Brandon says.
Alex shakes his head. "You are moving in with me." His face twists into something pained. "Or you should move home with your parents."
That shocks Brandon enough that he can't come up with an objection right away.
"Pregnancy is dangerous," Alex says, "especially for men. You shouldn't be alone."
Brandon cups the back of Alex's head, rubs his hair. "I'll come stay with you tonight," he says. "We'll figure out the rest of it tomorrow."
Alex doesn't look exactly happy about that, but he agrees to it, and he alternates pestering Brandon about how he feels and talking to the baby while they wait for Doctor Leblanc to show up.
Brandon finished freaking out before he called Alex, but it's still comforting to have Alex there with him, taking up half the hospital bed and cuddled up under his arm, the familiar sound of him talking to the baby in a language Brandon can't understand.
Brandon figures it must be obvious what part Alex has in all of this by the way he's sharing the bed with him, so he doesn't bother with explanations and just introduces him by name when Doctor Leblanc comes in.
"I feel kind of silly," Brandon admits.
"No," Doctor Leblanc says. "We'd rather have you come in than not." He looks through Brandon's chart and asks him a few questions. "I'm going to release you on the condition that you have someone stay with you tonight."
Alex looks smug. "He will stay with me."
"Good," Doctor Leblanc says. "I had my office make an appointment for you for early next week." He hands an appointment card to Brandon. "Just a precautionary follow-up to make sure everything's okay."
It still takes a while after that for them to let Brandon leave.
"Does your family know I'm coming?" Brandon thinks to ask when they pull up outside Alex's house.
"I texted my mom," Alex says. He hovers around Brandon as they walk to the door.
"You know I can walk," Brandon says, only half of it real annoyance. "You sure your family's cool with this?"
"Yes," Alex says, and Brandon can't tell from his tone if he means it or if he means they're going to stick it out and give his family no choice but to be okay with it. He calls out something in Russian when they go into the house.
Alex's mom comes to meet them.
"Hi," Brandon says, and then doesn't know what else to do. How are you supposed to greet your unborn baby's other grandmother when you're showing up to stay at her house?
"Hello," Alex's mom says. She steps forward, hovering kind of like Alex hovered on the way up to the house. "You are okay?"
"Yeah," Brandon says. He pats his stomach. "The baby and I are fine."
"Good," Alex's mom says. "That's good." She steps closer, and hugs Brandon. It's awkward all the way around, but he kind of pats her shoulder and returns the hug.
"I don't know what to call you," Brandon admits, as long as they're being awkward.
"You can call me Inna," Alex's mom says after a moment, like she hasn't thought about it either. "Are you hungry?"
"No," Brandon says. He will be in a while, but not yet. "Thank you."
"You need to drink more water," Alex says. He puts his arm around Brandon. "Come sit on the couch. I'll get you some."
Brandon thinks about arguing, but he probably does need to drink some more water. He lets Alex lead him to the couch and bring him some water. The way Alex watches him drink it is probably unnecessary, but it's not as annoying as it could be, so Brandon doesn't complain about it.
Inna makes dinner later, and Brandon, Alex, and Alex's family make slightly stilted conversation while they eat. Brandon probably should have pinned Alex down on how his parents feel about the baby before this.
"You can stay with me," Alex says when Brandon's starting to get tired. He says it firmly, and Brandon's not sure if that's to dissuade him from arguing about it or his parents.
Alex has one of the master bedrooms - "The house has two," he explains - and he digs out pajamas for Brandon and finds him a toothbrush.
In bed, Alex spoons up against Brandon's back, arm draped over him, hand spread out over his stomach.
"You are really okay," Alex says, half question and half statement.
"Yes." Brandon puts his hand over Alex's. "I'm fine. The baby's fine. It wasn't that big a deal." Even though it felt like it in the moment.
"How are you not worried about it?" Alex asks, words muffled where he's pressing his face into the back of Brandon's neck.
"I was." Brandon laces his fingers with Alex's. "I didn't call you until after I was done freaking out."
"You should call me," Alex says. "I want to be here for these things."
Brandon's heart thumps in his chest, one of those moments when he feels something so unbearably tender that he almost can't breathe. Fucking hormones.
"Okay," he says, keeping his voice steady. "I hope nothing like that happens again, but if it does, I'll call you."
Part 2