osgood_asitgets | [Hockey RPS - Four times fic

shades_of_hades because she begged. I blame her for all the mpreg. :3

four times Darren Helm got pregnant and had to tell his lover and teammates

I.

It's raining outside. The water trails down the windowpane in uneven patterns, which create shadows on the cream-coloured couch where Darren's sitting.

He's put this off as long as he possibly could, but the problem is, it's more and more difficult for him to play; he's tired all the time, and he knows it's becoming obvious to everyone that he can't keep up at the speed of the game anymore.

He stares down at his feet--or tries to, but they are half-obscured by his belly.

Darren sits and waits for Oz to finish up making coffee in the kitchen. The pattern on the rug is pretty, swirls and curlicues, and Darren tries to follow them with his eyes, to distract himself, but it's not working.

There's a faint spot on it just by his left foot, and he thinks it's probably a place where one of Oz's kids spilled something.

The thought makes his stomach jump unpleasantly. What he has to tell Chris... it's not going to make him happy. It's something that should be happy news, but not in this situation.

Ozzie comes into the room with two coffee mugs, steam rising up in curls, and Darren shakes his head once. He's had to learn to be responsible and conscientious; up until only a week or so ago, he'd been indulging in caffeine and alcohol.

Probably because he was still denying, even to himself, a truth that was... not universally acknowledged.

And now he can't pretend anymore, and he has to tell Chris. He just can't keep this a secret anymore.

Oz shrugs and sets down one of the mugs on the coffee table.

"It's a good thing Jenna and the girls are out at a movie," he says. "Because you know this isn't the day we normally meet here. What's up?"

Darren swallows hard. It's not Oz's fault that he's basically someone's dirty little secret. And Chris is usually awesome about it, but what he says is true: they don't spend a lot of time at Chris's house because of his wife and family, but this is important.

"Please don't be angry," Darren says. Oz looks confused. He raises his mug of coffee to his lips, and it's terrible timing, but Darren finishes with, "I'm pregnant."

That's going to be another stain on the carpet.

Oz nearly drops the rest of his coffee as he fumbles to put it down.

"What?" he says.

"I'm having a baby," Darren says, and ducks his head so he doesn't have to look at Oz's face.

"Okay, yeah, that's what I thought you said, but... Helmer, how could this happen?"

"The condom must have broken or something," he says miserably. He scrubs a hand over his face and can feel the skin on his cheeks grow so hot it feels tight and stretched over the bone.

He feels awkward, spine stiff, too uncomfortable and anxious to lean back against the couch.

"All right," Oz says after the silence becomes deafening and strangling. "I'll take care of it."

Darren finally meets Chris's eyes. His lover has a soft, open expression on his face, not at all the one of judgement he's been expecting to see.

"How am I going to tell..." he trails off, imagining the words forming uneven patterns like the rain on the window behind him.

"We'll do it together," Oz says confidently. Darren's not all that sure Ozzie is really that confident about it.

He can feel his teammate's gaze lingering on him, on his belly, heated like the sun on a beautiful summer day.

He imagines what Oz sees: the way his stomach protrudes now; the way his belly button pokes out; the very obvious evidence of the baby growing inside.

It's kind of hard to pass it off as gaining weight, if he's honest with himself. Actually, he's been waiting for someone--Drapes, most likely--to ask him about it, but thus far, no one has.

Not even Oz, and that hurts a little in corners of his psyche, that his lover either doesn't pay enough attention to notice, or was actively trying to blind himself to the obvious.

Darren puts his hand on his belly, because he wants to shield it from Chris's eyes, but he knows that it doesn't do any good. He's almost five months along now, and there's no way just his hand is going to obscure the pregnancy-belly he has now.

"Wow," Chris says after a moment. "Looking at you now, I don't know how I didn't notice it sooner."

Because I've been turning you down for sex for weeks now, Darren thinks to himself. But he knows that's not the only reason--Oz should have seen it anyway. Not only is it painfully visible, but they still see each other naked in the shower almost every day even if Darren's been pleading headaches for weeks.

"I don't know what I'm going to tell Nick," he says to Chris. He has a feeling he looks pretty desperate.

Oz is sitting on the coffee table, facing him, and now he crosses his legs at the ankles. His expression is still welcoming, easy and inspiring confidence.

Darren thinks that Chris is more than likely just as freaked as he is, but he appreciates the fact that Chris is obviously trying to reassure him by not showing his own panic.

"We'll do it now," Oz says with a definitive nod of his head. "Before it becomes a task that feels insurmountable."

Oz stands up and reaches for Darren's hand, and when he takes it, Oz helps him to his feet--he's ashamed of the fact that he's pregnant enough now that he actually needs the assistance--and then, just before they walk towards the door, Oz pulls him into his arms and kisses him softly on the lips.

"I love you," he says. "And we will be fine. All three of us."

///

Darren fidgets; one hand keeps fluttering near his belly, and if he doesn't catch himself fast enough, Oz will suddenly tug at his wrist.

The locker room is slowly filling up with their teammates as practise comes to an end, and Darren and Oz are waiting for Nick to finish up on the ice so that they can break the news to him.

Darren leans closer and whispers against Ozzie's ear, "I don't think I can do this."

Chris leans back. "You can. And I'm right here."

Darren's about to hiss something back, but Nick strides into the room, wiping sweat from his face and hair with a towel. He sees Darren and pauses, then comes over to them.

"I didn't see you at practise," Nick says. "I didn't think you'd come in today."

Darren knows he's not talking to Chris, because he'd been out there while Darren hid in the locker room and tried to stay under the radar.

"I uh, yeah," Darren fumbles. He glances helplessly at Chris, but his lover isn't taking over. But he does link their hands together and squeeze gently. "I'm kind of... sick," Darren says.

Oz jabs him in the ribs; Darren wonders if he's forgotten about the baby.

"...by which I mean, morning sick," Darren finishes lamely. Nick raises an eyebrow; beyond that simple, sardonic look, he's still as calm and unflappable as ever.

"Please tell me that I misheard you," he says. Darren shakes his head.

"No," he says. "But you... already knew that."

Nick sighs. "I'd really hoped you were just gaining weight."

Darren ducks his head and stares at the floor. Not the floor between his feet, mind you. "I'm really sorry," he mumbles, having lost track of the number of apologies he's offered today.

Nick puts a hand on his shoulder; that familiar, supportive firm grip.

"Well, we'll deal with it," he reassures Darren. His gaze just barely brushes Ozzie before returning to Darren. "The media will have to be told you have a lower-body injury, and Babs will have to know the truth, of course." At Darren's panicked expression, Nick rubs his shoulder gently. "Not to worry, Helmer; I'll take care of that."

"And... everyone?" Darren asks, waving an arm to encompass the room.

"Whoever you want to tell," Nick says soothingly. "And if not, we'll just say the same thing to them."

"I think I want to go home," he says quietly. "I'm still tired all the time."

Nick gives him one last pat. "Take care of yourself," he admonishes; clearly Nick knows how hard Darren's been pushing himself to play and to practise--even while his pregnancy has been advancing. He steps towards the exit, still holding Ozzie's hand, but Nick shakes his head minutely and Oz pulls away.

"I'll come by and see you later," he promises, and Darren nods.

The walk to his car is solidly lonely, and the only thing that cheers him up even a little is the faint kick of his baby.

:::

II.

It's sunny outside. Streams of beautiful golden light are splashed across the rumpled sheets in a ladder-pattern from the mini-blinds, and Darren swears he can feel every stripe's heat on his skin.

Abby's lying beside him, hand playing idly up and down Darren's spine. Darren, for his part, is plastered to the bed with his belly beneath him, hoping Abby hasn't noticed.

Then again, that's made all the more difficult by the fact that he knows he can't put it off any longer. Between his legs is still sticky; patches of his skin are still slightly damp with sweat; his cheeks still feel flushed.

He turns his head a little and kisses Abby's hip. This should be happy news; somehow Darren doesn't think Abby's going to be happy about it.

He rubs his finger back and forth over Abby's other hipbone.

"I have to tell you something," he whispers. Abby stops petting him briefly.

"You sound awfully serious," he says. "Are you okay?"

How to answer that? In some ways he's fine; in some ways he's great; but in others, he's fucked up and anxious all the time.

"Please don't be angry," Darren says, shoving his face into the mattress next to Abby's ass. As much as he knows he has to tell Abby, part of him wants to keep the words between himself and the bed and hope Abby won't be able to understand them.

Unfortunately, his nose is now perilously close to the wet spot--another stain on their bed.

Abby might be about to respond, but Darren blurts, "I'm pregnant," and there's such silence it's oppressive, deafening. The heat of the sun suddenly feels like the heat of the light in an interrogation room.

"What?" Abby says, and his hand, splayed on Darren's back, tightens.

"I'm having a baby," Darren repeats miserably. "I'm having your baby."

"Helmer," Abby begins, "how did this happen?"

"I don't... that night, we were so drunk? I think we forgot to..."

Abby's body goes stiff next to him. Abby remembers.

"I can't believe I missed this," he mutters, then his hand travels up the length of Darren's back and settles in his hair. "I should have noticed."

Darren doesn't point out that, even if Abby'd been paying attention, Darren barely shows, even now, at five months. He was so slender to begin with that the baby just hasn't made that much of an impression.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry," Abby says, and Darren wants to trust him, but Abby's just a kid, like he is; what if Abby wants to... to... get rid of it?

"How are we going to tell..." Darren lets his voice fade away. It reminds him of a musical composition coming to an end. That trailing off of the sound until it drowns in silence, almost as abrupt as it is gradual.

"We'll just have to do it together," Abby says with confidence. Darren wonders just how much confidence he's really feeling.

He squirms his hand beneath Darren's body, in-between the soft bed and his belly. He nudges Darren until he rolls over, giving Abby free rein to stroke up and down his stomach.

"I don't know what to say to Nick," Darren says a little desperately. "He's probably going to be upset that..."

"I'm upset that you've been keeping this from everyone. And playing, still." He's quiet for a moment, and then, surprised, "Wow, I feel something!"

"Yeah..." Darren closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the soft press of Abby's hand, the faint murmur of the baby in his belly.

"Come on, get dressed," Abby says suddenly. Even though it had been so peaceful, with the sun a burnt orange on the inside of his eyelids, he knew Abby wouldn't be able to let it slide very long. "We should tell Nick now, before this is such a huge thing you panic."

Darren blows out a breath. Under Abby's palm, his belly flutters. He swallows, then sits up.

No time like the present, he supposes; just before he climbs down off the bed, Abby grabs him and yanks him in for a fierce kiss.

"I love you," he says fervently. "And if this is the result, well, awesome."

Darren's pretty sure it's going to be less 'awesome' the first time Abby has to change their baby's diaper, but he keeps his mouth carefully shut.

Time enough for that later.

///

It's unusual to meet Nick at his house, but Abby insisted that this required the utmost privacy--and Darren supposes he has to agree--so Abby'd made the phone call, telling Nick that it was something critical to the team but had to be kept a close secret.

Darren shifts from foot to foot, hanging back behind Abby on the front steps, actively hoping that despite what Nick said, he's not home.

Those hopes are crushed beneath his feet when Nick opens the door; he's wearing sweatpants and slippers and his thinning hair is sticking up every which way.

Darren opens his mouth to ask why Nick's not dressed, but Abby must be anticipating some sort of stupid, time-wasting comment from him, because he grabs Darren's wrist--hand just about to touch the faint swell of his belly--and interrupts.

"We need to come inside, right now," Abby demands, and Nick pulls the door wider open.

"I've been playing video games with the kids," he says, and Darren feels guilty when he remembers that it's Sunday afternoon and that more than likely explains why Nick's still in his pajamas.

"I wish this was a video game," Abby says, and strides past Nick, dragging Darren along behind him.

There's a long, long pause as Darren passes by Nick, and then their captain says,

"Helmer, has all that food you always eat finally caught up to you?"

Abby gives Darren a lengthy, considering look. "You know..." he begins, but Darren stomps on his foot.

"No," he says, even though he basically just told Abby--in body language (in a very childish fashion, too)--to shut up. And that means he's left the door wide open and there's only himself to walk through.

Or something. God knows he's not that good at metaphors.

"You're not looking as... fit," Nick says slowly. Darren ducks his head down and stares at his feet--he supposes he's lucky he can still see them, even if they are so swollen all the time that they barely fit into his skates.

"I've been feeling kind of... sick," Darren mutters lamely. Abby gives him the hairy eyeball, and Darren doesn't even need to see his face to know he's doing it. "Morning sick," he adds at last.

Nick stares at him with wide eyes, then shuts the door with a resounding 'thud'. He puts a hand on the small of Darren's back--supportive, familiar--and steers him over to the couch and pushes him down onto it.

"Please tell me I've heard wrong," he says, defeat evident in his tone. Darren kicks at a spot on the cream-coloured carpet.

"We might have forgotten the condom once," Abby supplies helpfully. Nick spares him a brief glance before returning his attention to Darren.

"He's the father?" he asks. Nick seems disappointed in that fact, though Darren isn't sure why. What's wrong with Abby?

Abby scowls. "It's not my fault we're both idiots," he grumbles.

Darren pokes him in the thigh, where he's standing beside the couch, but Nick clears his throat and, as usual, they both obey like troublesome children. To Nick, they probably are.

Nick sighs, then sits down next to Darren, half-turned so that they're facing each other. Darren struggles to keep from kicking at that spot on the carpet again. He studies Nick from beneath his lashes: his messy hair; his casual sweatpants; the faint stain on his t-shirt that Darren wonders is from one of his kids.

"How far?" he asks, gently touching Darren's knee to regain his attention.

He imagines he must have a look of confusion on his face, because Nick clarifies.

"How far along is the pregnancy?"

"Fi-five months," Darren stutters. He's not sure he even told Abby how long he's been pregnant. Judging from Abby's frustrated eye-rolling, probably not.

"You've been playing like this for five months?" he says in disbelief. "Are you fucking crazy?"

Nick glares. Abby covers his mouth as if he's just remembered Nick's kids might be able to overhear him.

But Nick apparently agrees with Abby, because he says,

"That wasn't a very smart idea, Helm," and Darren bites his lower lip.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asks.

"Come to me?" Nick actually sounds even more disappointed that Darren didn't trust him with the information.

"All the games were important," Darren points out. "Playoff push and all that. You needed me. You still do."

"You're not playing anymore, that's a given," Nick says. "I'm not going to risk the baby, and I'm not going to allow you to be reckless, either."

"But..." Darren starts; Abby jabs him hard in the ribs.

"You're dumb enough as it is," he says.

"What are Dumb and Dumber doing here?" says someone from the doorway, and all three of them turn at the sound. Nick's got a soft flush slipping up his neck; he seems guilty. Abby and Darren are too busy trying to look innocent, though Darren doubts it's working, since he's now looking everywhere but at Ozzie, who's just walked into the room.

"They are Dumb and Dumber," Nick says on another sigh. "It's all right. Oz won't say anything."

Abby gives Darren a look. He almost misses it because he's eyeing Oz. And then the metaphorical lightbulb appears above his head; he wonders if Abby sees it.

"Are you...? And Nick?"

"And that's the other reason Oz can be trusted," Nick says. He rubs the back of his neck.

"I'm pregnant," Darren admits at last. Ozzie's eyes widen too, and then he puts his palm over his mouth. Muffled, he says,

"Is that why you've been eating triple what you normally would?"

"He already eats triple what a normal person would," Abby agrees.

"Hey!" Darren exclaims. "Shut up." His face is probably stark red and he clutches at his belly, trying to concentrate on the soft, rolling quiver that means his baby's moving.

"We'll deal with this," Nick says. But he still seems upset. "It's not ideal, but these things happen. Go on home, Helm, I need some time to think about what to do."

He doesn't need much convincing, and as they walk out the door into the bright, accusing sunshine, Abby comments,

"You should've told me it's been five months already!"

Darren squints against the sun to meet his boyfriend's gaze. There must be something on his face, because Abby rolls his eyes again.

"You don't remember the number of times we've been that drunk?" he asks.

Darren shakes his head, stupidly.

:::

III.

It's snowing outside. The flakes are fluffy and innocent, casting spokewheeled shadows and sparkles at the window outside the restaurant.

Darren really doesn't mean to begin this conversation here, but Drapes is laughing and nudging Oz, and Ozzie is going on and on about his newborn.

Maybe it's not such a surprise, then, when he opens his mouth and the truth just sort of spews out of it. (Which, gross.)

"I'm having a baby."

Oz and Drapes are still laughing, and then Drapes goes utterly still and he swivels in the booth to face Darren.

"What did you just say?"

From the tone of Drapes's voice, this news--what might be happy news to anyone else--is anything but. Darren lowers his eyes and tries to shrink away into nothing.

He certainly hadn't meant to break the news this way, and definitely not with Oz at the table, listening with his mouth fallen wide open.

Ozzie's fork is dangling from his hand as if he's forgotten how to feed himself. Drapes, for his part, looks stunned and upset.

"I'm pregnant," Darren repeats after a long silence. It had gotten so deafening, so suffocating, that he had to fill it in with something, and Drapes had asked him to say it again.

"You can't be," Drapes says in disbelief. "We were always careful."

"Condom must've broke, or something," Darren mumbles. It's not like Drapes needs to know that the condoms they'd been using were ones leftover from Darren's hopeful years in high-school.

"I hope you're not angry," Darren says a little desperately, when Drapes doesn't say anything; Ozzie, for once, seems okay to let the silence drag on without rambling like he normally does.

On the table, there's a slowly spreading splotch on the paper placemat; Darren thinks it might have something to do with the fact that Drapes is holding his straw suspended over the table and it's dripping. Drip, drip; the sound balloons to fill in all the spaces where Drapes's voice should be.

Darren swallows hard and slides out of the booth, stumbling to his feet--wrapping an arm around his middle to stabilise his centre of balance--and begins to hustle towards the washroom.

Drapes finally speaks and his lover's voice, like the pull of a magnet, attracts Darren's attention and his feet just stop moving without his permission.

"I'm sorry."

"It's my fault," Darren whispers. He realises guiltily that he's still cradling the obvious outward curve of his belly. He drops his hand. From the expressions on their faces, though, he probably should've kept trying to hide it.

"You're not just pregnant," Ozzie mutters, "you're beyond pregnant."

"What does that mean?" Darren asks, defensively.

"It means that..." Drapes's sentence sort of drifts, unfinished, towards the floor.

It's okay, Ozzie fills in the end, just like he always does.

"You've been pregnant for awhile. How long, Helmer?"

Darren slips miserably back into the booth, putting his head down on the table between his hands. His cheek gets sticky from Drapes's spilled soda.

"I'm not... really sure." He doesn't look up at them. If he tells them the truth--that he remembers the exact moment he felt the quickening, or the very split second that he'd felt the slow, even trickle of Drapes's come within his body--he's pretty sure they're both going to kill him.

After all, he didn't stop playing, even if he has gotten slower, more sluggish. Even if his skates hardly fit over his swollen feet. And yes, even those times when he tried to cover his dash to the toilets in the locker to throw up when it was still early on.

But Drapes won't let it lie. "How long, Helmer?" he demands.

"Five months," he admits with a certain amount of guilt. A lot of guilt, if he's honest with himself.

"You idiot," Drapes says. "You dumb, stupid--"

Oz must have given him one of those looks.

"--all right, so I see your point, sort of; but Helm, that wasn't a very intelligent thing to do."

"I'm sure he feels sorry enough about it," Oz puts in. Darren sneakily peeks over his forearm. Oz doesn't look as angry.

"He's been playing like this for..." Drapes loses the momentum of his argument for a moment as he realises that Darren must've been just as out-of-the-loop for awhile as they've been until now.

"So, he's not playing anymore," Ozzie says softly. Darren feels a prickle of jealousy. It's not like he doesn't know that they share something. He's even guessed more than once that maybe they used to be lovers.

Hell, he's not even sure he has a right to be jealous. What he has with Drapes might not mean anything more than a warm body to stick his dick in.

But there's a baby now; one that they've made together. That ties them together for life, even if it's just been casual and meaningless for Drapes until now.

Oz is quietly confident when he speaks again, even as he's giving Drapes the evil eye--saying, if Darren isn't mistaken, I'm going to kill you later.

"We can handle this. It'll be quiet, a lower-body injury announcement to the press, you'll stay home and out of sight until the baby's born, and then Drapes will tell everyone..."

"I think I'm going to have to make up a girlfriend," Darren says. "I can just say that she lives in Canada."

He's not really sure why, all of a sudden, both of his friends seem to be trying to smother giggles.

"He's got to tell Nick," Drapes says, when they've stopped laughing at whatever it was.

"You've both got to tell Nick," Ozzie corrects. "And, Drapes, try not to be an asshole."

"I think that's what I was," Darren says in a small voice. Oz gives Drapes another pointed glare.

"I'll get the bill," he says. "Both of you need to fill Nick in before he..." figures it out, Darren finishes in his head.

As they walk towards the door of the restaurant, Drapes's hand steals over Darren's belly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Darren thinks he knows what for. And then, as if Drapes decides he knows better, he tacks on,

"I do love you, you know. I was just unprepared."

"It's okay if you don't," Darren says, diplomatically.

"I can't believe this," Drapes says after a moment. Darren's about to apologise again, but Drapes keeps talking. "I can feel him already."

"Or her," Darren says. Drapes rubs his belly a heartbeat longer, then drops his hand.

"You shouldn't have waited so long," he scolds. "Now that I know, I'm realising how obvious it might be to outsiders."

Darren can't think of a single thing to say to that.

///

Somehow, it seems fitting that they finally track Nick down in the workout room. After all, Drapes spends half his life working out.

It's always been an argument between them that Darren doesn't spend enough time in there (but then, Drapes is a freak of nature who works out constantly, so to him, nothing would be enough). Though, the lectures had gotten more common after Darren started to gain weight.

Nick is stepping off the treadmill when they walk in. It was Kronner who told them where Nick was; it's lucky that no-one's in there but Nick.

Darren is trying to hold his hand in front of his belly, but he's also trying to be ninja about it and not put his hand actually on his belly--Drapes grabs his wrist, though, and that exposes Darren's stomach to Nick's gaze.

He thinks maybe everyone's been in denial about this; he's wearing a shirt that clings just enough that the pregnancy is fairly obvious.

Nick's eyes widen, gaze obviously drawn to that area by Darren's failed attempts to hide behind his hand.

"I've been sick," Darren says, chickening out at the last moment. He hopes that Nick will just take that at face value and he can escape, but Drapes gooses him, and he jumps.

Nick is still looking at him skeptically. "Stomach troubles don't really cause swelling like that," he offers. "Maybe you should see a doctor."

From the way Nick is examining him, Darren feels like Nick has to know. He's clearly being kind, though, giving Darren a chance to say it.

"...I've been morning sick," he finally confesses.

"Oh," Nick says on a sigh. "I had rather hoped you weren't going to say that."

Drapes chimes in. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't go out and play."

Nick raises an eyebrow. "Helmer, are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm definitely pregnant."

Drapes offers his two cents again. "He's already five months along and he's been playing hockey like an idiot."

Nick squeezes Darren's shoulder, firm and supportive and familiar (all those times Nick has been there for all of them in crisis).

"Name-calling isn't necessary," he scolds. Darren winces even though that isn't directed at him.

"I didn't mean to," Darren says miserably. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"Being sorry won't change anything," Nick says gently. "What's happened, happened. Now you need to forgive yourself and take care of yourself."

Darren can feel his swollen feet aching, and he leans against Drapes. "I'm really tired," he says.

"This is a disaster," Drapes says. "We really do need him, and how are we going to break this to Babs?"

Nick echoes Ozzie from earlier, though whether it's because they are on the same page or Ozzie's talked to Nick, Darren doesn't know.

"A lower-body injury, some quiet time out of sight... and I'll take care of Babs."

"I want to tell everyone," Darren says softly. "I feel like I'm just lying to everyone."

"You can tell anyone you like," Nick soothes. "But you must make sure it doesn't get leaked to the media."

"Helmer, you should go home," Drapes says. Darren thinks that, maybe, Drapes is being kind of a jerk because he doesn't know how to handle this. After all, it's his baby... and they both know that no-one can ever know that, beyond Nick, anyway.

"This is precious," Nick says. "Try not to make it into something awful."

Darren cradles his belly; he loves the feel of it moving inside him. He wishes he had someone to share the experience with, but that's the trouble with having the baby of a married man who already has three kids.

He ducks his head, then slinks out of the room to leave Nick and Drapes to discuss his situation.

He waits in the car for Drapes, hunched over and holding his belly as if he can protect this baby from all the hurt in the world.

Darren doesn't admit to himself that some of that hurt belongs to him alone.

:::

IV.

It's windy outside. Darren's just come in out of the cold, rubbing his hands together and walking down the hall to the locker room.

He's been hiding at home for days, miserable and sick, head aching, feet aching, tummy rolling.

But he's put this off as long as he could.

Nick is in the shower when Darren finds him. He's soaping up that beautiful body that Darren loves so much: the hard muscles; the understated strength in every movement; the gorgeous colour of his skin; even the way his hair is slowly starting to thin out.

He sighs and strips out of his own clothes, steps into the shower and turns on the faucet next to Nick.

And then he waits for Nick to realise just why Darren's been pleading headaches for weeks.

To someone who wouldn't entertain the possibility--teammates, for example, that don't know Darren's been sleeping with another guy--it probably just looks like his metabolism has slowed down, and what he eats has finally caught up to him (something that would make the guys gleeful since they hate how he can eat and not gain weight).

He can't keep this secret anymore, so he waits (not very patiently) for Nick to finish rinsing his hair and open his eyes and look over.

When Nick does, he glances around, then embraces Darren, even though usually he's so scrupulously careful about public displays of affection.

And then Nick pulls back.

"When did you get a belly?" he asks, and Darren can feel the blush run up his cheeks like mercury rising in a thermometer.

"I uh," he says, then, running his hands up and down Nick's slick, wet shoulders and arms--like that can somehow make this easier--he finally fesses up. "I'm having a baby."

To his credit, Nick doesn't flinch, he doesn't immediately back away, and he doesn't ask whose it is (though Darren's pretty sure Nick's too serene and kind to even think of it).

"It's going to be fine," Nick says. And Darren feels a weight leave his shoulders--the sick worry that's been hanging over him is gone. Nick always knows just what to do, in every situation, on and off the ice.

"But, a baby," Darren says. "It's almost playoffs. I have to play, and I can't. I can barely get my feet into my skates now."

"A baby is a blessing, no matter what," Nick says, and Darren flushes again, ducks his head down. Nick already has four kids--this has got to be unhappy news (no matter the fact that it should be happy news, and that Darren had felt lightheaded and delirious when he found out).

"I'm so sorry, Nicky," he breathes, and Nick tugs him close, against his body, cradling him carefully as if he might break. He runs his fingers through Darren's hair.

"It's not your fault," he says gently. "And I love you, and I always will. This is not the end of the world."

"I'm ruining everything," he mutters miserably.

"No," Nick contradicts softly. "Bringing a new life into the world is never a bad thing. Not even in this situation. Calm down, love. We will be okay."

"I love you so much," Darren whispers, and buries his face into Nick's wet shoulder.

Between them, his belly is pressed to the hard muscles of Nick's own; when the baby suddenly shifts, Nick tightens his hold on Darren.

"I always loved this part," he says. And he cups the back of Darren's head, then gently directs his head from his shoulder and claims his mouth in a heartbreaking kiss.

Something about Nick always makes Darren feel like the world is ending--but in a good way.

Like everyone else is going to disappear and it will be just the two of them. Three of them, now.

The kiss smoothes out all the rough edges of Darren's worry, and the baby kicks again, which makes Nick bite gently on Darren's lower lip.

He sinks down into the sensation of Nick's kiss, leaving the outside world to everyone else in it who's not part of this, and refuses to think of anything beyond Nick's hold, Nick's love.

fin.

[Hockey RPS - Four times fic - R]

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