You smile at the scene in front of you.
Ezra was laying on the couch, snuggled in his blankets and cuddled up with his stuffed plushies. The inhaler the doctor prescribed lays on the coffee table along with his water bottle and his half-eaten lunch. His movie is playing lowly in the background, the brightly colored animations dancing across the screen.
Now the boy is on his feet, so contrary to his lethargic position before, and is jumping up into his father's arms and holding on tight.
Both Harrison and Tom made it back for the weekend to see Ezra post-anaphylaxis reaction. You can see how stressed Tom has been; he showed up in a very lazy outfit, his eyes looked so tired but lit up when they landed on his child, even his hair is a mess.
You walk over to the front door where they threw their backpacks down and move them so they're out of the way. The familiar thudding of Tessa's paws pound against the floor as she rushes in to greet Tom and Harrison.
Tom eventually is sprawled out on the couch with Ezra on top of him, and he even lets Tessa up and lets her cuddle close as well. Somehow, you find yourself in the kitchen with Harrison, both of you silently cleaning up a bit.
Until it isn't silent.
"You alright?" Harrison asks, glancing over at you with concern in his ocean colored eyes.
You continue to scrub at a plate, "I'm fine."
You blink and suddenly Harrison's hand is on top of yours, stopping your scrubbing, and it's then that you notice your scrubbing was beginning to rub off the design on the plate. The water runs in the background, pooling near the sink's drain carrying a million soapy bubbles with it. Slowly, you crane your neck up and over so you're looking at him.
"You need to get better at lying Y/N," he says softly.
"But...I'm fine I—" You begin to protest.
"Hmm, alright, well I don't believe you," Harrison interjects, "so do you want to explain to me what's going on?"
You carefully set the plate and the sponge into the sink, using the nearby tea towel to wipe at your hands. All the things that have been rolling through your head since the peanut incident come back up, and for the first time in days you have someone in front of you asking you to put it on the table. With shaky hands you fold the tea towel back up and drape it over the oven handle.
"I didn't do my job," you say softly, leaning back against the counter, "and it really hurt Ezra, it scared everyone, and I probably really messed up the filming schedule."
"Firstly, don't give a fuck about the filming schedule, they just bumped up scenes Tom isn't in for filming. Secondly, yeah, we were all scared and Ezra had to go through that, but from what you and his parents have said about it...you had no control over what happened," Harrison says.
"But I should have had control Haz," you sigh, "I'm being paid to be in control, to be the adult, and to keep him safe."
It's with that that Harrison suddenly gets what you're saying. Tom is so protective over Ezra, he'll do anything and everything to make sure his son is okay, even if that means finding someone who can do that for him when he's not around.
"He's not going to fire you, trust me mate, he wouldn't," Harrison says quietly, almost rushed.
You scoff and roll your eyes, "I wouldn't be so sure. He's been very short with me since the E.R visit."
"He's a fuckin' Gemini Y/N, when he's angry he does that silent broody shit before exploding. I hope he doesn't explode at you, but he'll get over it eventually," Harrison rambles.
It makes you pause, your eyebrows raising a bit, "did you just use astrology and the zodiac to explain to me how Tom acts when he's angry?"
As if realizing it for the first time Harrison flushes, "so what if I did?"
"It's cute."
"Fuck off."
You chuckle, letting your hand clap his shoulder once, "never."
Harrison smirks and throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. A smile crosses your own face as you hug him back. It's a very homey hug; kind of like the big brother you never had.
"He's not gonna fire you, just trust me," Harrison says and angles himself, so you're forced to look him in the eye, "do you trust me?"
When you open your mouth he interrupts you with, "actually don't answer that. Just let me be your zodiac guide."
"You're such a nerd!" You joke, pinching his sides which gets him to squeak and flinch away from the tickling sensation. With that he excuses himself to use the toilet, loudly, which has Ezra giggling from the living room. It pulls you out of the kitchen, your bare feet padding against the wood flooring, and you stand behind the couch watching the two on it with soft eyes.
Tom is still laying on the couch, his back flat against the cushions with Ezra still on his chest. His little hand is hidden in Tom's much bigger grip, cheeks smushed as his face tucks itself into Tom's neck. It makes your stomach ache and heart speed up, your hands clam up and your mind want to keep this tender memory forever.
Then Tom's eyes flicker away from the TV and up to you, and you feel the air leave your lungs.
"Um, do you need anything?" You ask, your voice smaller than usual.
"No, we're good," Tom says.
The room goes quiet, void of the TV of course, but it makes your spine tingle and goosebumps rise on your skin.
"Okay then...I'll just...go do some laundry I guess," you mutter, turning on your heel, walking down the hall where you set down a basket full of clean laundry earlier. Grabbing it you retreat to the guest room, which is just your room now, and set it on the floor next to your bed.
In an almost mechanical way you start to fold the laundry, it's mostly Ezra's clothes with a few of your own thrown in there as well. You get through about half of the basket when you hear muffled bickering from down the hall, followed by footsteps, and finally there is a knock on your door. You flinch and the next thing you know your tossing your underwear you'd been folding, and they hit the wall only to slide down behind your dresser.
With a groan you walk over to the door and open it, coming face to face with Tom.
A stray curl has fallen against his forehead, and before you even think about it you reach up and brush it away, so it falls in line with the rest. When you realize what you did you feel yourself sour, because it is such a stupid thing to do, especially now. Tom is looking at you with a look you can't quite make out; partly confused and partly something else.
"I—shit sorry, I've just been doing that when Ezra's curls don't wanna cooperate and so I just...I just...did that," you rush out awkwardly, your cheeks about to burst into flames with how hot they are.
Tom inhales sharply, his hands hiding themselves in his pants pockets, "it's fine I guess. Can I come in?"
"Oh! Yeah of course," you nod and step aside, shutting the door once he's inside.
This is clearly it. You're going to finish this basket of laundry, pack up your things, then get kicked to the curb. Your mistake was huge and it's costing you the best job you've ever had. No more Ezra wake up calls and cries for chicken nuggets, no more kisses from Tessa and whining for belly rubs, no more terrible jokes from Tom and late-night conversations.
Your heart hurts.
"Where did this shirt come from?" Tom asks, pointing to the top one on Ezra's shirt pile.
You can't help but smile at it. It's something you found on Amazon and thought it was rather fitting. It's a white shirt—a terrible color for a toddler's shirt—with the words "Nap. Build. Destroy. Repeat." on it.
"I just saw it and thought it was funny, so I got it for him," you explain, hating how dumb it sounds now that you say it out loud.
Instead you watch as Tom's mood lightens up and his fingers trace down the shirt for a moment. You can't take it anymore, not when you're getting so many signals, and feeling so many different things. So, you stand up straighter, you clear your throat, and look Tom dead in the eyes.
"Are you going to fire me?" You ask, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering.
Tom's head quirks his head to the left, almost like a confused puppy, and responds with a breathy, "what?"
"If you're gonna do it just do it. I've been kind of preparing for it anyways so—"
"What?!" Tom says again, louder this time, effectively cutting you off.
"What?" You echo, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"You think I'm going to fire you?" Tom asks.
This time you're the one to quirk your head, "Ezra could've died. He was in my care. I didn't do my job while you were away. That's grounds for getting fired in my book."
Tom lets out a huff, his arms crossing themselves over his chest, "I'm not firing you...I'm mad that happened, but we have very different ideas on what grounds for getting fired is."
Your shoulders sag and you feel all that nervousness in your gut leave. It's such a relief that you find yourself bending over a bit, your hands on your hips, letting out a large breath you'd been holding too long. You still get lazy Sunday morning cuddles with Ezra, you still get to play fetch with Tessa, and you still get to watch Tom try and fail to cut onions without crying.
Then "I'm mad that it happened" repeats in your heat.
You stand up straight and watch as Tom bites at his nails, lost in thought.
"I just," Tom starts, pauses, then begins again, "I was so angry that something like that happened. Why wasn't I there? How did you let it happen? He is my everything and what kind of person would I be if I somehow lost him?"
"Tom..." You mutter.
"No, I'm talking right now, I need to talk," Tom snaps and it's the first time he's been directly hostile to you, and it's not a good look on him. Still you find yourself reluctantly shutting up, and usually you let nobody talk to you like that; but at the core of this mess Tom is a father who could've lost his son an ocean distance away.
"The whole time I was in Atlanta I couldn't think straight. I had to get home and physically be here, to make sure he was okay. You have no idea how scared I was of losing him Y/N...it's something I can't even think about without wanting to freak out. And yet," Tom pauses, walking closer until he's about a foot away from you, "I knew you'd keep him safe."
All the air leaves your lungs for the umpteenth time.
"I knew you'd be there for him, keep him alive, keep him happy and warm. You'd do what I do.... and go to the end of the world just to put a smile on his face, and so I'm not as mad as I should be," he continues.
Suddenly your eyes sting and your vision swims with unshed tears, but you nod anyways, "of course I would."
Tom's lips contort into a shy smile as his hand comes up, his thumb brushing the one tear that fell down your cheek, "I know you would Darling."
You fall into his chest easier than you thought you would. The way you two click, the way his arms wrap around you, and the way you fit perfectly into the crook of his neck is perfect. It makes your hands and feet feel like static is flowing inside of them. The electricity in the air is alarming but you find yourself leaning into it, letting it guide you.
"I'm so sorry," you wheeze, "I should've kept a better eye on him."
Tom's hand comes up and runs through your hair, slightly rocking you both side to side, "maybe...but he's here and healthy. It's alright."
You hide your face deeper into his neck, breathing in his soft linen and soft soapy scent. You find it funny how most people associate those musky woody scents for men, and yet somehow this soft on fits Tom perfectly. Of course, whatever deodorant he's wearing is slightly strong, but it compliments that soapy scent nicely. You want nothing more than to just stay here forever, breathing in that calming scent, being held in his strong arms.
All good things come to an end, and before you know it you're stepping away from each other. You wipe your eyes with your fingers, knowing they were probably bloodshot to hell and puffy.
"Can I ask you a question?" You ask quietly, your voice a bit shaky.
Tom nods, "go on."
"What happened to Ezra's mom?"
It sounds like ground zero; no noise, no nothing. That is until Tom lets out a long sounding sigh and sits on the edge of your bed, careful not to mess up the folded clothes. You take that as a queue to do the same and you sit beside him, silently waiting to start on his own terms.
"We were teenagers and we were careless," Tom starts...
..."You need to knock that off."
Tom flinches and looks over to Elizabeth, following her gaze to where his leg was restlessly moving up and down. Reluctantly he forces himself to stop the mindless movement, his hands gripping the sides of the porcelain tub both him and her sat on the edge of.
"Sorry love, I'm just a bit nervous 's all," Tom admits, eyes flickering over to the test on the basin's counter.
Elizabeth shrugs, "I could just be missin' a cycle Tommy. Sometimes it happens with birth control."
"What if it isn't? What if you're pregnant?" Tom asks.
"What if I'm not?" She retorts.
To that Tom shrugs and takes a deep steadying breath. A minute passes by and the timer finally goes off. He watches as Elizabeth jumps up and grabs the test off the counter without a care in the world, as if this is the most casual thing in the world. Standing up, Tom watches as she stills and looks at the test with a blank expression on her face.
"Well?" Tom prompts.
"Holy shit," Elizabeth mutters.
Tom feels his heart speed up, shaky hand reaching out. She puts the test in his hand, the plastic stick feeling heavier than it should. Turning it so it's screen side up Tom feels his stomach hollow out at the positive result.
"You're pregnant," he says, shocked.
"What the bloody fuck am I gonna tell my parents?" Elizabeth wheezes...
..."That must've been scary," you say.
"I can't remember a time I was more freaked out in my life," Tom chuckles, running a hand through his curls before continuing with the story...
...Tom sits in the chair provided, looking at the screen in awe. It's black and white and small, but already so perfect. The heartbeat coming from the speakers is incredible too; it's so fast, but proof his little baby is alive and that is a special kind of feeling.
From behind him Nicola and Dominic have their hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight, and his parent's touch is so reassuring. He holds on to Elizabeth's hand tight and she holds back. The doctor smiles at the screen, moving the wand across the bump which is definitely a bump these days.
"Are we ready to find out the sex of the baby?" The doctor asks.
Tom glances to Elizabeth who looks a bit pale to be honest, and she just shrugs with a "whatever you want" as an answer. He can feel his parent's hold on him tighten for a moment before relaxing. Ignoring the sour feeling in his stomach he just smiles up at the doctor and nods, "we'd love to."
The doctor moves the ultrasound wand lower, just below Elizabeth's belly button and smiles big and bright.
"See right there?" The doctor asks, pointing to a spot on the screen.
"Oh my god!" Nicola squeals, clearly knowing what she was looking at.
"It's a boy," the doctor announces.
"You're never getting' a break love," Dominic laughs.
Tom feels his chest get all weird and heavy but it's with so much excitement and love for his son. That is crazy to Tom, that this is his son that'll be in his arms in a few months.
"A boy," he repeats in wonderment, looking to Elizabeth who is just looking at her stomach with a weird expression on her face that Tom doesn't know how to interpret...
...You frown at this information, "she wasn't really into the whole pregnancy thing, was she?"
"No, and it broke my heart," Tom says, eyes downcast...
...Tom smiles in the dark room, the moon light the only source of light at this hour. He glances up slowly, checking up on Elizabeth who is sleeping soundly, despite complaining earlier that their boy kicking was keeping her up. He trains his eyes back down to her belly, which is big now, and will continue to get bigger.
Still 28 weeks is big and the little guy inside is growing so fast and perfectly.
He reaches out and lets his hand cup the curve of her belly, unable to keep the grin off his face when he feels a kick against his hand.
"Hi bug," Tom whispers, "don't wake Mum up, alright? She's finally sleeping."
There isn't another kick but Tom sees movement, which is so weird but so cool, and makes his heart clench with so much love it hurts.
"You're gonna be so spoiled. Your Nan and Gramp aren't gonna let you want for anything; plus, you have a bunch of uncles so excited to meet you. However...you have your Mum and Dad right here to love you so much. God you're gonna be smothered with it," Tom says, chuckling at his own words.
Elizabeth lets out a huffing sound in her sleep and Tom waits a while before speaking again.
"I love you so much, it's kind of scary honestly, but you're already my world so you have nothing to worry about. You'll always have me and..." Tom finds himself hesitating, nasty thoughts flowing through his mind, and after a moment he sighs, "you'll always have me bug."...
...Tom bites his lower lip, "I kind of always knew she didn't want any of it. Just the way she acted, but I wanted to be hopeful, ya know? I wanted to make it work."
"You can't force that kind of thing Tom," you say.
"I learned that the hard way," Tom huffs angrily...
...Tom opens the front door, kicking it shut with his hands full of shopping bags. Of course, he doesn't call for help, Elizabeth needs to relax and lately hasn't been feeling all that well. She's mostly stressed out. He can deal with a few bags to carry through the too small doorway.
"Tom? Is that you?"
"It's me Elle!" Tom calls back, setting the bags down by the door, wanting to check up on her before unpacking them. It's an array of groceries but also some baby stuff they've been needing. Bottles, dummys, and even a few bibs.
That's when he hears the sobbing.
Before he even knows where he is going his body is taking off, all but vaulting over the coffee table, sprinting down the hall to the source of the crying. The bathroom light is on, it's clinical looking in the dark hallway. Inside clothes are all over the floor, so are a bunch of towels and washcloths, and most alarmingly there is blood everywhere.
Tom feels panic bubble in his chest as he looks up and over to the bath, where Elizabeth sits on the edge of, a towel between her legs. Her pale face is tear stained, her mascara tinting her cheeks, while her body is bare and shaking.
"I-I can't stop the bleeding Tom," Elizabeth sobs through her teeth, clearly in pain.
She's only 32 weeks along.
"Fucking hell!" Tom cries out, fumbling for his mobile, frantically calling for an ambulance.
He rushes over to Elizabeth with a clean towel, wrapping it around her shaking shoulders, holding her tight as he sobs to the emergency operator on the other end. Tom feels himself getting wheezy, like he can't breathe, the panic of Elizabeth in pain and bleeding everywhere....the fact that their son could already be gone....
..."Oh my god," you gasp, hand over your mouth in shock.
Tom is teary eyed now, choking on his own words.
"We can stop," you say after a beat of silence.
"No...'s alright, we're almost done," Tom sniffles and you hand him a tissue from your bedside table with a comforting smile...
...Tom sits up quickly when Elizabeth wakes up, clearly groggy and unaware what is going on.
"Elle, baby, hey," Tom smiles, running a hand through her hair meeting her tired hazel eyes.
"Tommy? What happened?" Elizabeth croaks, her hands moving and pausing over her stomach.
Tom feels himself hesitate, a lump forming in his throat almost painfully, "they got him. He's alive....and so so small...I can't believe he's alive. They had to do emergency surgery."
He watches as Elizabeth's face twists and her hands yank at the hospital issued blankets. Tom moves to stop her in her haste, but her hospital dress is already hiked up and exposing the bandaging across her lower stomach. Tom watches as she starts to cry big angry tears, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it.
"I don't want this," she hiccups, "I didn't want any of this."
"You don't mean that," Tom says brokenly.
"I only kept it because you wanted it!" Elizabeth sobs.
Tom recoils and feels himself break down. This was not the Elizabeth he knew from the beginning, the shy humble girl he met at a party with Harrison as his wing man. This is a woman who has toyed with him and...done him a huge favor and given him a son but hurt him in unimaginable ways. She let him play house, get comfortable, and now it's all to shit.
He can't even bring himself to say anything and Elizabeth is crying too hard to even hear his words. Instead Tom walks out, shutting her door a bit too harshly which bugs a few nurses passing by, but he doesn't really give a shit in this moment.
Instead of brewing in it all he walks to the elevator and goes down a floor, using his pass to get into the NICU. Familiar nurses wave at him, and suddenly he's back with his family who surround the incubator. Inside is his son, his parent's grandson, his brother's nephew, the world's sweetest little boy.
"Thomas?" His mother asks, noticing how upset he is.
He lets himself break down, "she doesn't want him."
"What?" Paddy gasps.
"Not now Paddy," his father mutters and Tom is grateful when he leads his brothers away for a while.
Meanwhile he's being held by his mother....and that's something his son probably won't ever get to have. A mother's hug when something terrible happens, so terrible that all you want is to be wrapped up and shielded away from this nasty world.
"I'm so sorry my love," Nicola sighs.
"I tried so hard...and she..."
"I know, I know," she mutters, rubbing his back...
..."Just like that?" You ask.
Tom scoffs, "I know. It's horrible. I spent everyday for the next month in that hospital next to Ezra making sure he was doing okay, getting to know me...and she wasn't there for any of it."
"Jesus Christ," you sigh.
"She signed to relinquish parental rights as soon as she could," Tom tells you...
..."Did you want to say goodbye to him?"
Elizabeth stands still just outside the NICU. She healed up well, still sore, but she's going to be fine. Tom shouldn't feel anything but hate for her, but he can't, he's glad she's okay and doing what she needs to do.
"I don't think that's good idea Thomas," Elizabeth says.
Tom raises an eyebrow, "Thomas? When was the last time you called me anything but Tommy?"
Elizabeth just steps forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, and it makes his face burn and stomach flip.
"You're going to be a great father," she says, stepping back.
"Are you sure about this?" Tom asks brokenly, his stupid optimism burning bright.
Elizabeth shakes her head, "it was never in the cards for us."
That...that hurts. It hurts so bad and Tom just watches as she walks down the hall, joining her parents who wait for her down there. He gets a glare from her father and a tight-lipped look from her mother, and a blink later she is gone. Tom inhales sharply, not wanting to spill another tear for her, and walks back into the NICU.
Ezra is growing so fast, so much so he doesn't need to be continuously incubated. He's big enough now that he can self-regulate heat, and all he needs to do is feed on his own a bit better before he can finally go home. Tom leans in close to his son, his finger tracing around his small chubby face.
Ezra makes a soft gurgling noise and raises a fist.
Tom smiles, "it's just you and me bug. You'll always have me."...
...You sit there, looking at Tom, shocked at how horrible that must've been on him. You wonder how badly he's been affected by the girl's actions. It kind of amazes you how horrible she was, but also how much Tom took before it all fell around him.
"Did...did you name him for her?" You ask, that thought persisting in your head.
Tom freezes, like a child caught in the cookie jar.
"Her name is Elizabeth and your son's name is Ezra," you continue.
"Call me sentimental, but I thought he deserves one tie to the person who fought so hard to have him for me," Tom says softly, eyes clearing up now, "as much as she hurt me...she gave me one of the best things in my life. That's always going to mean something to me."
You nod, understanding. Without thought you sit up on your knees and lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tom pulls you close, clearly needing the contact after such a long and emotional conversation. You end up half on his lap, your legs awkwardly all on one side of him. Still a hug is a hug, and he deserves a million of them.
"Is it my turn to ask you a question?" Tom asks.
You crane your neck back to look at him, "shoot."
"Why are your panties on the floor?" Tom asks, half laughing.
You flush darkly and look over to your dresser where the lacy material sticks out from under it.
Grabbing your pillow, you smack him across the head with it, "get some manners Holland! Never ask about a woman's panty habits! God you totally ruined the moment!"
Both of you are laughing though and it truly is funny.
"No Darling, I think I made the moment better," Tom beams and it's enough to melt your heart for the millionth time.