The One that's Not Gas
Title: The One that’s Not Gas
Author: lipstickcat
Pairing: Turnbull/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to The One like a Penthouse Letter. 2,830 words. Many thanks to llassah for beta.
***
“You’re WHAT?” Ray scraped his fingers through his hair and fixed Turnbull with his best “What the hell are you trying to pull?” stare.
Turnbull, in turn, looked horrified. The glow that had been radiating off him moments before drained away in a split second. He glanced over his shoulder at the door he had shut when he ushered Ray into the room, (Ray had hoped for an illicit quickie in the Queen’s bedroom of all places, but apparently he had no such luck). Then Turnbull scanned the room jerkily, avoiding Ray’s eyes and finally shook his head at the plush carpet.
“No. Not here. This is the wrong place. I was mistaken.”
Ray narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.
“Tell me. I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t hear you right.
Turnbull looked up and shook his head again, this time at Ray’s left ear. Ray weaved to the side a little to catch his gaze, raised his eyebrows, just daring Turnbull to break eye contact now.
“You can’t leave me hanging, Ren.” Oh, he felt dirty, using Turnbull’s first name like that; to get his own way because he knew how much it meant to him when he did. But Turnbull'd left him with no other option, hadn’t he?
Turnbull scanned his face, his own intensely serious. He returned Ray’s challenging gaze and it felt like he was penetrating all the way to Ray's soul through his eyes, and Ray couldn’t look away now because he'd set the challenge and he wasn’t going to give. He was vaguely aware of the clench of Turnbull’s jaw, then the long intake of breath.
“I’m pregnant, Ray.”
***
Sweet flesh and salty sweat beneath his tongue as he licked his way up Turnbull’s neck. Desperate moans, so needy, so completely for him. It made him feel so powerful to have this hot giant of a man beneath him, hands pawing at his body, floundering and gasping for him like he was oxygen.
“Please Ray, please say it.”
Ray smiled and bit gently at Turnbull’s jaw.
“I want you, Ren. I want to fuck you.”
The body beneath him shivered, hips bucking up and grinding their cocks together. Ray honestly didn’t know if it was the dirty talk, or the careful use of his name, but he hadn’t failed to get a reaction he liked out of it yet. Fingers tightened in his hair and guided his head up slightly so that Turnbull could kiss him hard and deep, his moan vibrating in Ray’s mouth.
***
Oh. Ray hadn’t misheard. He and Turnbull broke eye contact simultaneously, the challenge suddenly paling into insignificance.
Ray opened his mouth and leaned forward a bit, his hand raised, gesticulating finger ready. The words were jammed in his chest, not coming out. He needed them to come out, he needed the space in his chest for the normal things, like his heart beating and his lungs helping him breathe. Breathing would be good.
He spun away sharply and tried to ignore what sounded like a whimper coming from Turnbull. What the fuck was he playing at? Was this some kind of Canadian-Turnbull metaphor? Like, he was pregnant with his love for Ray or something? Ray frowned. That just sounded stupid, and he was waving his hands around in time with his thoughts. He clenched his fists tightly and forced his arms down by his sides, which felt like fighting magnets at equal poles.
Perhaps this was how Turnbull thought you ended it with someone: tell the man you’re pregnant and they run a mile. Only, how wrong could the poor, confused man get it? Besides, the threat of children was hardly a threat to Ray. Surely Turnbull knew that? They’d spent enough time together, it must have come up. A wave of guilt washed over him; perhaps not, he’d not been very enthusiastic about Turnbull’s attempts to get to know him better. That wasn’t the arrangement.
***
There was no greater feeling than being buried balls deep in Turnbull. It was like screwing velvet sheets; hot, vice tight, velvet sheets that moaned with every tiny move he made. The whole bed vibrated with the quivering of Turnbull's body, his arms locked into place as he supported himself in his kneeling position beneath Ray.
His head was bowed down and Ray couldn't help wonder if Turnbull had his eyes open. Could he see beyond his own broad chest, down the line of his torso, to his hard, leaking cock? Just in case he could, Ray slid a hand from where he gripped Turnbull's hip, around the tense curve of his stomach and splayed his fingers over Turnbull's erection. He held it teasingly gently, stroking lazily, letting his thumb and index finger rub over the head with each upstroke. This was about putting on a show; Turnbull would get off regardless of Ray's technique.
Turnbull let out a series of babbling moans that told Ray all he needed to know. He moved his hips and tried to thrust into Ray's hand. Ray tutted through a toothy smile and his free hand stroked over Turnbull's lower back to still him. With a breathy little gasp that could have been Ray's name, Turnbull let his arms give way and dropped smoothly down onto the bed, his ass still raised, Ray still deep inside him. He lay his head to the side against the crumpled bed covers. Ray could see his profile: his eyes were shut now, dark eyelashes like ink dashes against the top of his cheeks, lips parted to release a stream of constant pants and moans.
***
Ray turned back around, slowly. He regarded Turnbull carefully, tried to read his face, but all he was getting was that the man was trying really hard not to burst into tears.
"What do you mean, you're 'pregnant'?"
Turnbull's eyebrows knitted together in a vague frown, confused, like Ray was the one saying hinky things!
"With child, expecting, in the family way, knocked up-" Turnbull paused as Ray held up a hand for him to stop. He finished meekly, "Pregnant."
"Turnbull, you are aware that you're a man, aren't you?"
"Yes, Ray, very much so."
"Don't they teach sex ed. in Canada?" Ray scrubbed his face with his hands. "Or even basic biology?"
A strange combination of emotions flickered across Turnbull's face, and his eyes widened as some kind of understanding dawned. For a moment, Ray thought that he'd finally got through and Turnbull was now going to make himself clear, well, as clear as Turnbull could ever manage. Then he began to speak again.
"Oh, believe me, no one was more surprised by the news than myself."
Ray waited for more, but that seemed to be it. "Trust me, you're wrong about that, I don't think 'surprised' even begins to describe how I'm feeling right now. Freaked the fuck out, that would be a start." Turnbull looked like Ray had just sucker punched him in the chest, so Ray decided to back peddle a little. "You truly believe you're pregnant?"
"Oh yes," he began to gush, "I have all the symptoms: fatigue, nausea, increased sensitivity to odors and tastes, frequent urination..."
Ray had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing in his face. "Missed your period too, huh?"
Scarlet flushed across Turnbull's face, which at least put a bit of color back on it. He shot Ray a look that was almost a glare.
"No. Of course not." He hesitated, apparently deciding whether the obvious needed stating or not, then decided it did. "I am a man, and therefore don't have a menstrual cycle to begin with."
Ray cocked his head to the side in a kind of "well, there you have it" nod, and raised his eyebrows at Turnbull.
"I took a test, and it was positive."
"Why the hell did you do that?!?" Ray's hands were up in the air again, waving around like he wanted to take off.
Turnbull moved his own hands so that they were over the front of his tunic, gently rubbing his stomach in a caress Ray recognized from the times he'd watched heavily pregnant women pass by him, while he felt bitterly jealous of them and their partners. Ray's brain fused as he finally processed "it was positive".
"I could sense it. I just..." Turnbull smiled softly. "I knew."
***
Snuggling wasn't part of the deal. He definitely wouldn't stand for it if he'd not gotten his first, but Ray had to admit that there was something to be said for post-sex cuddling.
Turnbull was pressed against Ray's side, his head pillowed on one of Ray's shoulders, his hand curling lazily over the other. One of his legs was entwined in Ray's, which in itself seemed so very intimate. Turnbull was breathing shallowly, on the edge of sleep. Ray shifted slightly, moving his hand to rest over the arm draped heavily on his chest. Even though he'd wiped it on the sheets, his hand still felt damp from Turnbull's come.
Ray's body was plummeting down from the tingly warm glow that seemed to cushion him after sex, and, wherever Turnbull wasn't touching him, he could feel the air gusting over his cooling skin, bringing him close to shivering. Everywhere they touched, Ray felt warm, and it made him want to pull Turnbull over him like a blanket. Sure, he was a heavy weight, but it was nothing Ray couldn't take.
He thought about the man dozing against him, how comfortable things felt right now. For a moment he wondered if he could live like this, but he pushed that thought away just as quickly as it came to him. Turnbull would drive him slowly insane, probably.
Goosebumps were beginning to prick at his arms and legs; either he had to get up and go, or somehow grab the sheets bunched around the bottom of the bed to pull over them. It shouldn't have been as hard a choice as it was: Fuckbuddies or not. Door A or Door B. Finally, not so much because he'd made the choice but because his indecision was freaking him out, he slipped out from under Turnbull, carefully tucking a pillow under his head to replace his shoulder. He untangled the sheets and covered Ren's drowsy form. For a moment, Ray considered kissing him, on the forehead, or lips, or cheek, or something. Then he snorted at himself and went in search of where they'd chucked his clothes.
***
Turnbull removed his lanyard and Sam Brown and began to unbutton his tunic. For a moment, Ray had the crazy idea that he was going to get that quickie after all. But before he could begin to take off his own clothes, he remembered where they were standing and if Turnbull wanted to have sex in the Queen's Suite, Ray really needed to start worrying. Turnbull would shudder at the thought of such disrespectful desecration of Her Majesty's bedroom, Ray knew, which at least made it a nice dirty little daydream to file away for later, private, enjoyment.
Meanwhile, Turnbull had shucked off his tunic, folded it neatly, and stepped forward to place it on the bed behind Ray. He didn't move back afterwards, but instead fixed Ray with a meaningful stare as his fingers fluttered nimbly down the buttons of his undershirt. Ray had to force himself to think about Welsh holding a weeks worth of paperwork with Ray's name all over it and not a cigarette in sight, and still that didn't entirely cool his reaction to the impromptu Mountie Chippendale strip he was being treated to.
Turnbull untucked the henley from the inside of his trousers with a jerk and lifted it up to chest level so that he was revealing most of his bare torso.
Ray was pretty sure he could feel his eyes boggle. On an average guy, you'd barely notice it, but Turnbull had a perfectly flat, subtly muscled stomach. Had. His stomach was now protruding out in a bump. It was insignificant, as bumps go, just a slight rounding of his belly, skin taut, still something most men would kill to have. But Ray knew the shape of Turnbull's stomach, he'd spent shameless moments just drinking in the perfection with his eyes, had run his fingers over the ripples of muscle, kissed and licked into that bellybutton. This was not Turnbull's normal shape.
He wanted to prod it. His pointing finger was primed to poke and he had to force his hand down by his side, yet again.
He bent down for a closer look. "Are you sure its not just gas?"
Turnbull's hands flew straight to his stomach, cradling the bump protectively. "No!"
Ray looked up at Turnbull and gave him an apologetic smile. Turnbull gave him a far softer smile in return. Ray could even see the smile in Turnbull's eyes and it made Ray wonder if it was the baby that gave him such a tender expression, or himself. He ignored his sudden acceptance that there could be a baby, right there in front of him, vulnerable and tiny, impossible at the best of times, and yet suddenly so believable.
"Touch it." Turnbull was grabbing his hand before Ray had the chance to process what he'd said. His hand was guided to Turnbull's stomach, his palm carefully laid against the gentle, warm curve, flesh so smooth to touch. Turnbull placed both his hands over Ray's and held it in place. "You won't be able to feel anything yet, it's too early, but it's there. Can you sense it?"
Ray nodded wordlessly. He didn't know quite what he was sensing, but it was making him dizzy. It could be that he'd overdone the caffeine hit this morning. Or it could be that just centimeters away from his hand there was a tiny little life, getting on with the important business of existing. He drew his lower lip into his mouth and bit it as a thought occured to him.
"How... how far gone are you?"
"Oh, only about 12 weeks. It's early days yet."
Ray nodded and straightened up, not taking his hand away from where it was. He needed to just hang on and keep the contact a little longer while he did the math. But he couldn't work it out. It wasn't like he kept a detailed record of when he'd slept with Turnbull: 'Dear Diary. Today I screwed Turnbull over the hood of the Goat. And there was a sale on at Target.'
With his free hand, Ray scratched a thumbnail over the corner of his mouth.
"Who, uh, who's the... father?"
Turnbull blinked. He looked just on the confused side of insulted.
"It's you, of course, Ray."
Ray felt a strange sensation in his chest and for a horrible moment he thought that he was having a heart attack. He was going to drop down dead right here in the Queen's bedroom, and he was never going to get to see his baby. And there it was again- it felt like his stomach had grown wings and was trying to push his heart up out of his throat and... oh.
Oh.
Ray looked up at Turnbull's face, searching his eyes for the truth. Turnbull's expression was serious, honest. He was quite possibly deranged, but he wouldn't lie, not about something as serious as this. Ray felt the moment it all clicked into place; his heart did that "whumth-ump" thing again, but this time it felt different and Turnbull could see it, could read it in his face, or sense the exhilaration. Ray watched the slow smile spread over the other man's face, like the first beams of light on a fresh new dawn.
Turnbull squeezed his hand softly and a thousand thoughts flooded Ray's mind at once: He was going to be a father! What if he was crap at it? Did they sell handbooks on how to be a good dad, daddy, pop, papa? How do you change diapers? Should he start a college fund?
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from the bump, held both of Turnbull's hands between his, and lead him the few short steps to the bed. Gently, he pushed him down.
"Sit down, Turnbull. Ren." Ray nodded to himself. "Ren. You gotta relax, take it easy in your condition. Is there anything you need? I'll get it for you. You have to stop working, and keep off your feet. Are you hungry? Are you craving anything? Bananas? Toast? Pickles dipped in chocolate spread?"
Turnbull chuckled and absentmindly played with Ray's fingers in his hand. "I'm quite capable, thank you Ray. Light exercise is good for both myself and the baby." He pulled Ray down onto the bed beside him and leaned over, kissing him with a gentle press of his lips. Ray let him. They had so much to talk about.
They were having a baby.
***
Continued in The One with the Duck Boys
Author: lipstickcat
Pairing: Turnbull/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to The One like a Penthouse Letter. 2,830 words. Many thanks to llassah for beta.
***
“You’re WHAT?” Ray scraped his fingers through his hair and fixed Turnbull with his best “What the hell are you trying to pull?” stare.
Turnbull, in turn, looked horrified. The glow that had been radiating off him moments before drained away in a split second. He glanced over his shoulder at the door he had shut when he ushered Ray into the room, (Ray had hoped for an illicit quickie in the Queen’s bedroom of all places, but apparently he had no such luck). Then Turnbull scanned the room jerkily, avoiding Ray’s eyes and finally shook his head at the plush carpet.
“No. Not here. This is the wrong place. I was mistaken.”
Ray narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.
“Tell me. I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t hear you right.
Turnbull looked up and shook his head again, this time at Ray’s left ear. Ray weaved to the side a little to catch his gaze, raised his eyebrows, just daring Turnbull to break eye contact now.
“You can’t leave me hanging, Ren.” Oh, he felt dirty, using Turnbull’s first name like that; to get his own way because he knew how much it meant to him when he did. But Turnbull'd left him with no other option, hadn’t he?
Turnbull scanned his face, his own intensely serious. He returned Ray’s challenging gaze and it felt like he was penetrating all the way to Ray's soul through his eyes, and Ray couldn’t look away now because he'd set the challenge and he wasn’t going to give. He was vaguely aware of the clench of Turnbull’s jaw, then the long intake of breath.
“I’m pregnant, Ray.”
***
Sweet flesh and salty sweat beneath his tongue as he licked his way up Turnbull’s neck. Desperate moans, so needy, so completely for him. It made him feel so powerful to have this hot giant of a man beneath him, hands pawing at his body, floundering and gasping for him like he was oxygen.
“Please Ray, please say it.”
Ray smiled and bit gently at Turnbull’s jaw.
“I want you, Ren. I want to fuck you.”
The body beneath him shivered, hips bucking up and grinding their cocks together. Ray honestly didn’t know if it was the dirty talk, or the careful use of his name, but he hadn’t failed to get a reaction he liked out of it yet. Fingers tightened in his hair and guided his head up slightly so that Turnbull could kiss him hard and deep, his moan vibrating in Ray’s mouth.
***
Oh. Ray hadn’t misheard. He and Turnbull broke eye contact simultaneously, the challenge suddenly paling into insignificance.
Ray opened his mouth and leaned forward a bit, his hand raised, gesticulating finger ready. The words were jammed in his chest, not coming out. He needed them to come out, he needed the space in his chest for the normal things, like his heart beating and his lungs helping him breathe. Breathing would be good.
He spun away sharply and tried to ignore what sounded like a whimper coming from Turnbull. What the fuck was he playing at? Was this some kind of Canadian-Turnbull metaphor? Like, he was pregnant with his love for Ray or something? Ray frowned. That just sounded stupid, and he was waving his hands around in time with his thoughts. He clenched his fists tightly and forced his arms down by his sides, which felt like fighting magnets at equal poles.
Perhaps this was how Turnbull thought you ended it with someone: tell the man you’re pregnant and they run a mile. Only, how wrong could the poor, confused man get it? Besides, the threat of children was hardly a threat to Ray. Surely Turnbull knew that? They’d spent enough time together, it must have come up. A wave of guilt washed over him; perhaps not, he’d not been very enthusiastic about Turnbull’s attempts to get to know him better. That wasn’t the arrangement.
***
There was no greater feeling than being buried balls deep in Turnbull. It was like screwing velvet sheets; hot, vice tight, velvet sheets that moaned with every tiny move he made. The whole bed vibrated with the quivering of Turnbull's body, his arms locked into place as he supported himself in his kneeling position beneath Ray.
His head was bowed down and Ray couldn't help wonder if Turnbull had his eyes open. Could he see beyond his own broad chest, down the line of his torso, to his hard, leaking cock? Just in case he could, Ray slid a hand from where he gripped Turnbull's hip, around the tense curve of his stomach and splayed his fingers over Turnbull's erection. He held it teasingly gently, stroking lazily, letting his thumb and index finger rub over the head with each upstroke. This was about putting on a show; Turnbull would get off regardless of Ray's technique.
Turnbull let out a series of babbling moans that told Ray all he needed to know. He moved his hips and tried to thrust into Ray's hand. Ray tutted through a toothy smile and his free hand stroked over Turnbull's lower back to still him. With a breathy little gasp that could have been Ray's name, Turnbull let his arms give way and dropped smoothly down onto the bed, his ass still raised, Ray still deep inside him. He lay his head to the side against the crumpled bed covers. Ray could see his profile: his eyes were shut now, dark eyelashes like ink dashes against the top of his cheeks, lips parted to release a stream of constant pants and moans.
***
Ray turned back around, slowly. He regarded Turnbull carefully, tried to read his face, but all he was getting was that the man was trying really hard not to burst into tears.
"What do you mean, you're 'pregnant'?"
Turnbull's eyebrows knitted together in a vague frown, confused, like Ray was the one saying hinky things!
"With child, expecting, in the family way, knocked up-" Turnbull paused as Ray held up a hand for him to stop. He finished meekly, "Pregnant."
"Turnbull, you are aware that you're a man, aren't you?"
"Yes, Ray, very much so."
"Don't they teach sex ed. in Canada?" Ray scrubbed his face with his hands. "Or even basic biology?"
A strange combination of emotions flickered across Turnbull's face, and his eyes widened as some kind of understanding dawned. For a moment, Ray thought that he'd finally got through and Turnbull was now going to make himself clear, well, as clear as Turnbull could ever manage. Then he began to speak again.
"Oh, believe me, no one was more surprised by the news than myself."
Ray waited for more, but that seemed to be it. "Trust me, you're wrong about that, I don't think 'surprised' even begins to describe how I'm feeling right now. Freaked the fuck out, that would be a start." Turnbull looked like Ray had just sucker punched him in the chest, so Ray decided to back peddle a little. "You truly believe you're pregnant?"
"Oh yes," he began to gush, "I have all the symptoms: fatigue, nausea, increased sensitivity to odors and tastes, frequent urination..."
Ray had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing in his face. "Missed your period too, huh?"
Scarlet flushed across Turnbull's face, which at least put a bit of color back on it. He shot Ray a look that was almost a glare.
"No. Of course not." He hesitated, apparently deciding whether the obvious needed stating or not, then decided it did. "I am a man, and therefore don't have a menstrual cycle to begin with."
Ray cocked his head to the side in a kind of "well, there you have it" nod, and raised his eyebrows at Turnbull.
"I took a test, and it was positive."
"Why the hell did you do that?!?" Ray's hands were up in the air again, waving around like he wanted to take off.
Turnbull moved his own hands so that they were over the front of his tunic, gently rubbing his stomach in a caress Ray recognized from the times he'd watched heavily pregnant women pass by him, while he felt bitterly jealous of them and their partners. Ray's brain fused as he finally processed "it was positive".
"I could sense it. I just..." Turnbull smiled softly. "I knew."
***
Snuggling wasn't part of the deal. He definitely wouldn't stand for it if he'd not gotten his first, but Ray had to admit that there was something to be said for post-sex cuddling.
Turnbull was pressed against Ray's side, his head pillowed on one of Ray's shoulders, his hand curling lazily over the other. One of his legs was entwined in Ray's, which in itself seemed so very intimate. Turnbull was breathing shallowly, on the edge of sleep. Ray shifted slightly, moving his hand to rest over the arm draped heavily on his chest. Even though he'd wiped it on the sheets, his hand still felt damp from Turnbull's come.
Ray's body was plummeting down from the tingly warm glow that seemed to cushion him after sex, and, wherever Turnbull wasn't touching him, he could feel the air gusting over his cooling skin, bringing him close to shivering. Everywhere they touched, Ray felt warm, and it made him want to pull Turnbull over him like a blanket. Sure, he was a heavy weight, but it was nothing Ray couldn't take.
He thought about the man dozing against him, how comfortable things felt right now. For a moment he wondered if he could live like this, but he pushed that thought away just as quickly as it came to him. Turnbull would drive him slowly insane, probably.
Goosebumps were beginning to prick at his arms and legs; either he had to get up and go, or somehow grab the sheets bunched around the bottom of the bed to pull over them. It shouldn't have been as hard a choice as it was: Fuckbuddies or not. Door A or Door B. Finally, not so much because he'd made the choice but because his indecision was freaking him out, he slipped out from under Turnbull, carefully tucking a pillow under his head to replace his shoulder. He untangled the sheets and covered Ren's drowsy form. For a moment, Ray considered kissing him, on the forehead, or lips, or cheek, or something. Then he snorted at himself and went in search of where they'd chucked his clothes.
***
Turnbull removed his lanyard and Sam Brown and began to unbutton his tunic. For a moment, Ray had the crazy idea that he was going to get that quickie after all. But before he could begin to take off his own clothes, he remembered where they were standing and if Turnbull wanted to have sex in the Queen's Suite, Ray really needed to start worrying. Turnbull would shudder at the thought of such disrespectful desecration of Her Majesty's bedroom, Ray knew, which at least made it a nice dirty little daydream to file away for later, private, enjoyment.
Meanwhile, Turnbull had shucked off his tunic, folded it neatly, and stepped forward to place it on the bed behind Ray. He didn't move back afterwards, but instead fixed Ray with a meaningful stare as his fingers fluttered nimbly down the buttons of his undershirt. Ray had to force himself to think about Welsh holding a weeks worth of paperwork with Ray's name all over it and not a cigarette in sight, and still that didn't entirely cool his reaction to the impromptu Mountie Chippendale strip he was being treated to.
Turnbull untucked the henley from the inside of his trousers with a jerk and lifted it up to chest level so that he was revealing most of his bare torso.
Ray was pretty sure he could feel his eyes boggle. On an average guy, you'd barely notice it, but Turnbull had a perfectly flat, subtly muscled stomach. Had. His stomach was now protruding out in a bump. It was insignificant, as bumps go, just a slight rounding of his belly, skin taut, still something most men would kill to have. But Ray knew the shape of Turnbull's stomach, he'd spent shameless moments just drinking in the perfection with his eyes, had run his fingers over the ripples of muscle, kissed and licked into that bellybutton. This was not Turnbull's normal shape.
He wanted to prod it. His pointing finger was primed to poke and he had to force his hand down by his side, yet again.
He bent down for a closer look. "Are you sure its not just gas?"
Turnbull's hands flew straight to his stomach, cradling the bump protectively. "No!"
Ray looked up at Turnbull and gave him an apologetic smile. Turnbull gave him a far softer smile in return. Ray could even see the smile in Turnbull's eyes and it made Ray wonder if it was the baby that gave him such a tender expression, or himself. He ignored his sudden acceptance that there could be a baby, right there in front of him, vulnerable and tiny, impossible at the best of times, and yet suddenly so believable.
"Touch it." Turnbull was grabbing his hand before Ray had the chance to process what he'd said. His hand was guided to Turnbull's stomach, his palm carefully laid against the gentle, warm curve, flesh so smooth to touch. Turnbull placed both his hands over Ray's and held it in place. "You won't be able to feel anything yet, it's too early, but it's there. Can you sense it?"
Ray nodded wordlessly. He didn't know quite what he was sensing, but it was making him dizzy. It could be that he'd overdone the caffeine hit this morning. Or it could be that just centimeters away from his hand there was a tiny little life, getting on with the important business of existing. He drew his lower lip into his mouth and bit it as a thought occured to him.
"How... how far gone are you?"
"Oh, only about 12 weeks. It's early days yet."
Ray nodded and straightened up, not taking his hand away from where it was. He needed to just hang on and keep the contact a little longer while he did the math. But he couldn't work it out. It wasn't like he kept a detailed record of when he'd slept with Turnbull: 'Dear Diary. Today I screwed Turnbull over the hood of the Goat. And there was a sale on at Target.'
With his free hand, Ray scratched a thumbnail over the corner of his mouth.
"Who, uh, who's the... father?"
Turnbull blinked. He looked just on the confused side of insulted.
"It's you, of course, Ray."
Ray felt a strange sensation in his chest and for a horrible moment he thought that he was having a heart attack. He was going to drop down dead right here in the Queen's bedroom, and he was never going to get to see his baby. And there it was again- it felt like his stomach had grown wings and was trying to push his heart up out of his throat and... oh.
Oh.
Ray looked up at Turnbull's face, searching his eyes for the truth. Turnbull's expression was serious, honest. He was quite possibly deranged, but he wouldn't lie, not about something as serious as this. Ray felt the moment it all clicked into place; his heart did that "whumth-ump" thing again, but this time it felt different and Turnbull could see it, could read it in his face, or sense the exhilaration. Ray watched the slow smile spread over the other man's face, like the first beams of light on a fresh new dawn.
Turnbull squeezed his hand softly and a thousand thoughts flooded Ray's mind at once: He was going to be a father! What if he was crap at it? Did they sell handbooks on how to be a good dad, daddy, pop, papa? How do you change diapers? Should he start a college fund?
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from the bump, held both of Turnbull's hands between his, and lead him the few short steps to the bed. Gently, he pushed him down.
"Sit down, Turnbull. Ren." Ray nodded to himself. "Ren. You gotta relax, take it easy in your condition. Is there anything you need? I'll get it for you. You have to stop working, and keep off your feet. Are you hungry? Are you craving anything? Bananas? Toast? Pickles dipped in chocolate spread?"
Turnbull chuckled and absentmindly played with Ray's fingers in his hand. "I'm quite capable, thank you Ray. Light exercise is good for both myself and the baby." He pulled Ray down onto the bed beside him and leaned over, kissing him with a gentle press of his lips. Ray let him. They had so much to talk about.
They were having a baby.
***
Continued in The One with the Duck Boys