all the lights
a maxiel drabble for my beloved @lilyrizzy Happy Birthday, the world is suhc a wonderful place simply for having you in it. I love you so much.
(contains medical stuff and mpreg [sort of, it’s complicated])
The answer is no. It was ’no’ twenty minutes ago and it’s still a no now.
Daniel doesn’t want to leave. He is not going to leave, that’s what he told them when they asked for the first time, the second time, but the third –
“Sir,” the nurse or midwife or doctor, Daniel doesn’t know, doesn’t care says, having sat down on the chair next to him. “Surgery will take a bit longer still, you are not missing anything by going up to the unit. But you are missing something by stay here. Please, consider.”
What’s there to consider? Daniel doesn’t ask.
He presses his lips together, tilts his face away, fixing his eyes on a spot on the floor. His leg keeps bouncing, his hands clam and sweaty, grasping each other. His heart hasn’t stopped hammering against his ribs for hours. Not since he woke up to Max’s panicked voice, finding blood between his legs.
Days have passed since that moment, but according to the clock, it’s not even been two hours.
“Sir,” the woman says again, brows drawn together when Daniel glances at her.
“Max’s here. So I’m here,” he says tightly, voice feeling rough, unused.
Has he spoken since they took Max from him? Since they wheeled him into the operating room? Since he called Max’s name, desperate, and Max turned his head, skin pale, eyes wide. He’d opened his mouth but the door had shut before he could.
“And your daughters are upstairs,” the woman pushes.
Daniel –grimacing, eyes squeezed shut- nods. “Yeah, well.”
“They need you.”
“Right.”
He shakes his head, lips pinched together.
“They do.”
“For what?” he looks at her again and he can tell she’s taken aback by his cutting tone, but-
She puts her hand on his shoulder, a small, cautious smile on her lips, eyes almost pleading. “You’re their dad. They need you.”
“I’m- Right, yeah. No. I-” He shakes his head again, leg bouncing, heart racing. He can’t fucking look at her. She must think he’s a terrible person and maybe he is. Maybe he’s been a terrible person throughout this entire pregnancy but- “I need to be here. I need – Max.”
He gestures in the direction of the operating room.
They weren’t ready. This wasn’t supposed to happen. So soon. And not like this.
32 weeks, that was the goal. 32 weeks so the babies would be big enough to not- So they’d be stronger. Their lungs, and- And so much. Daniel listened to the doctors, he swears he’d listened, but- They have a calendar at home at the fridge and just the day before yesterday Daniel crossed off the 28 week mark. They only just-
Max had watched from the bed, directing Daniel, handing him the marker, hand on his bump and he’d told Daniel, when Daniel had counted the weeks that were left and only gotten paler, that everything would be okay. That he was excited to meet them. Their girls. And wasn’t Daniel?
But Daniel is a terrible fucking person and all he wanted, all he wants now, is for Max to be okay.
“We can make a new one,” he’d told Max when they first found out, terrified and confused beyond anything. “We just- Max. Max, c’mon. Please.”
He’d wanted an abortion. They’d told them it was safest. That Max- Max’s body wasn’t made for this. He had the parts, yes and none of them fucking knew until- But his body wasn’t fucking meant to do this. It was dangerous. He could die. None of the do doctors, none, none of the experts and specialist-
But Max had wanted to try, hadn’t wanted to make a new baby through surrogacy, or have one by adoption. He’d wanted this. Their miracle baby, growing inside his body against all odds and logic. And Daniel had nodded and said “okay,” and there were moments where he’d thought he could do this, could be a dad. But he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. He can’t do any of this. There is still blood on his hands and if Max dies-
“Wouldn’t Max want you to at least go see them?” the woman asks voice even gentler now, and fuck, Daniel has to wipe at his eyes again. “When he gets out of surgery, he’ll want to hear how they are doing.”
“You can tell him,” Daniel croaks, tasting salt on his lips.
He doesn’t know shit anyway. Even if he went to see the girls, he- What does he know? Jack shit. He doesn’t- They don’t even have names yet. They couldn’t decide and now-
“He’ll want to hear it from you,” she insists, and she’s right, but-
“He might fucking die,” he says, trying and failing to smile. “He might not ever hear anything I tell him ever fucking again, so-”
“So all the more reason to,” she cuts him off. “Sir, there really is nothing you can do here right now. But you can do this.”
He can’t. He really, really can’t. Every step he takes makes him feel more sick. He’s lead through a corridor. A door, another door, another corridor. There are signs and numbers and he can’t read any of them, can’t look at the pictures on the walls a t the people they pass, not that there are many. It’s still- The sun hasn’t even risen yet, it’s not-
“Congratulations, c’mon in,” a woman, smaller than the one before says, kind smile on her lips, paired with her words it feels almost mocking though.
He stares at her and right, they are in front of a door, two names written on colorful cards.
Verstappen 1, Verstappen 2.
“What-” he says, gesturing to the cards.
“Oh, because there weren’t names yet. Or have you picked?” the woman says.
Her name tag ready Hailey, Daniel can’t remember if she told him or when he’s been handed over to her, his head is still spinning and he’s pretty sure he might throw up.
“We- No. We hadn’t- We thought we still had time, I-“
“That’s okay, don’t worry,” she says, offering another smile. “Lots of parents haven’t decided on names yet when it’s baby time. Even if it’s full term pregnancies. Just tell us when you know, yes? Now.” Her smile widens a little. “Would you like to meet your daughters?”
“Just- I need to go back downstairs?” he says, turning to look where- but he doesn’t know. Which direction was he- How is he going to get back? He doesn’t-
There’s the nurses’ station right there, eyes on him, whispers.
“Well, how about we just go in and I introduce you, yeah?” Hailey says, unperturbed. “Now, I need you to take off all jewellery on your arms and hands. Watches, bracelets, rings – that includes wedding rings. Then please wash your hands very thoroughly at the sink and then when your hands are dry disinfect them. This is very important you need to do that every time you come here. No exceptions. We also need to talk quietly. No loud noises in this room please.”
He nods.
She opens the door.
“So, the girls are doing well,” Hailey says, as they walk up to the first of the – the incubators. The lights are dim in the room, but there’s still some sort of blanket over it, but she removes it and then- “This is number 1. She and her sister both need some help breathing still, which is to be expected at 28 weeks. They are also very small for their gestational age, which we assume is due to the conditions, which- Well.”
She smiles, a little awkward now.
The conditions. She means Max’s womb. Max’s hormonal situation. The way the placenta attached, how it couldn’t- Max wasn’t made for this. Or not- Only sort of. Just- It wasn’t ideal. Not for Max or the babies. Just a fucking fuck up from nature and now Daniel is a father and so is Max but Max might die and there is a tiny little creature lying in a plastic box in front of him, stuff strapped to its little face, frail, twig like limbs tucked in close to its body, chest rising and falling so quickly, wires everywhere and-
“So she’s got 725 grams, and her sister is at 680 grams, which-”
“I don’t know what that means, I don’t-” He shakes his head, throat tight, stomach twisting.
She’s- His- Their girl. She’s- She’s so fucking small, he doesn’t-
“Oh, 25.57 ounces,” Hailey explains. “That’s her. And our little lady over there, she’s got 23.98.”
“That’s-”Again he shakes his head, having to turn around. “That’s too small. That’s not- No. That’s-”
“That is very small, yes,” Hailey allows. “But, sir. Right now they are doing well and we are monitoring them. “They get some help breathing, but thanks to the RDS prophylaxis your- The mo- Your partner received their lungs are doing pretty well. The girls are both breathing on their own. They received surfactant already. No brain bleeds so far, and-”
“Okay, yeah, I- I gotta go back downstairs,” Daniel cuts in. “I’ve got to- Max- My partner, he is still in surgery, so.”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Oh, sure, yes, but, if you- Well, it would be so incredibly beneficial for your babies to get skin to skin contact? It’s- We call it kangaroo care and-”
Daniel laughs, he can’t help it. It’s a shrill, crazy little sound and before Hailey can say anything there’s a cry.
A tiny, barely there, barely audible cry, coming from behind Daniel. Coming from - her.
She-
Daniel turns around and there she is, her little miniature face twisted into a grimace, little mouth quivering and the sound she makes- IT shatters his heart-
“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, love,” he whispers quickly, desperately, hands flying, helpless in front of the plastic wall. “I’m- Shit. What- Just- Because I’m Australian, I was-”
He looks at Hailey, terrified. She needs to do something, she needs- His little girl is crying. She’s crying and she’s just so small.
“It’s okay, you just startled her,” Hailey says softly. “The loud noise. It’s okay. We’ll just- You know she is still adapting. She’s not- We always say they need a little bit, to truly arrive, you know? To the world? Everything is so much for them. The noise, the light, everything. So we try our best to shield them, but positive stimulation is just as important as shielding them from negative one. And part of that is skin to skin. It’s- She needs you, sir. They both do.”
She’s still crying. It’s a pitiful little sound, not like the baby cries Daniel remembers form Isaac or Izzy or Leo.
“But Max-”
“Labor and delivery will call us,” Hailey says. “They’ll inform us and we’ll inform you. I promise. Now, please. It’s really, really so important for your babies. ”
She tells him to take off his shirt. She puts him in a chair that reminds Daniel of a sun lounger except he’s not getting a tan. His heart is beating out of his chest. He’s lying there shirtless and terrified and Hailey and another nurse who introduced herself as Abby hand him tubes and wires and then- then There’s first one baby on his chest and then another. Two tiny little creatures. They tell him to hold him. Put his hands on their backs as they sort out the wires and tubes and everything and his fucking- One of his finger is bigger and longer than each of their legs and their hands-
“Are they- Is this-” This can’t be right. This can’t be- They are too small for him to hold, to lie on his chest and be covered by towels. They fucking- There’s a heating lamp, they need- “Shouldn’t they go back in the boxes?”
„The incubators?“ Abby asks, frowning. “Oh, no, not his is best for them. Skin to skin. With mom. Or dad. It’s the best for them really. Helps them stabilize their temperature and heartrate, breathing, everything.”
“Yeah, but-”
Daniel feels so helpless, useless. He’s just- He’s nothing, no one. He just- They don’t even know him. They grew inside Max, they know him, his heartbeat, his voice, Daniel just-
“They know your voice too,” Hailey says, almost like she’s read his mind. “So you can talk to them quietly. Sooth them if they need it.”
But they don’t. They are both quiet now. Both just there where the nurses put them on Daniel’s chest, bellies down, heads tilted towards each other, little hands on Daniel’s skin, it’s- It might be the most surreal thing Daniel has ever experienced. Three hours ago it was just him and Max in bed together and now he’s alone in a hospital room with their daughters and Max-
“Can you call?” he asks, keeping his voice low, despite its tremble. “Down to- Ask how he’s doing? Max? He-”
“Of course.”
Two hours pass before the door opens again and it’s not just Hailey or Abby, but both of them as well as two other people in scrubs and a bed. A bed with Max inside and a number of things attached. IV pumps and stuff, Daniel thinks, but he has no eyes for any of that. Just Max. Max who seems to barely be able to tilt his head, looking around, looking for-
“Max,” Daniel croaks and on his chest one of the babies splays her fingers, almost making him choke up again. “Maxy, hey. Hi. How-”
“I’m okay,” Max croaks, voice hoarse and barely there, probably because of the tube they had shoved down his throat for surgery.
“He lost a lot of blood,” someone Daniel doesn’t know says. “And we are admitting him to the ICU so this is just for ten minutes tops, I’m sorry, but-”
“Let’s just sort this,” Hailey cuts in, smile on her face.
There’s a flurry of motion then, pushing around of equipment, adjusting tubes, wires, everything and it seems like a whole lot of work but Daniel doesn’t care because by the end of it they have somehow managed to fit Max’s bed next to the chair Daniel is in, the tubes of baby 2 sort of half under Max’s pillow who looks even paler than before, exhausted and only half awake.
“Hi,” he says, and his hand-
“I can’t,” Daniel whispers. It kills him not to reach out, not to take Max’s hand, but. “I got-”
“Oh,” May blinks and then Abby leans over pulling back the towels a bit so Max can see the girls. “They are so little.”
“Yeah.” Daniel nods, but he manages half a smile, tears gathering in his eyes again. “They are. and they’d really like names, I think. And meet their papa.”
“Oh,” Max says again. “Hi, babies. It is your papa.”
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@holoharbinger gets a thing 'cause I've been too mean to Vox since we started to interact lately, so here's a...well, not mean thing?
In hindsight, choosing "cleaning day" as the chance to allow his self-appointed rival to visit the Hotel hadn't been Alastor's greatest idea. It had seemed perfect in the moment, because it meant that everyone else was out and about, and wouldn't come back for several hours, including Vaggie. Thus, she would have never known about that little meeting of theirs.
However, on the other hand, there was one tiny detail he had failed to consider. Namely the fact that Niffty would be roaming the building in a frenzy, uncaring of anything or anyone who might find themselves in her path.
In his defence, Alastor had thought that, with how big the building was, it would have been extremely unlikely for them to bump into the hyperactive maid. Why would she be in their same wing, when there were so many other spaces in dire need of a clean up?
As they say, famous last words.
They had barely turned a corner, casually strolling towards Alastor's room for yet another promised drink, when Niffty appeared at the other end of the corridor, moving faster than a rabid hurricane.
The Radio Demon, used to the little maid's antics after years of dealing with her, smoothly stepped aside, moving close to the wall to avoid her rush, but his companion wasn't so prompt in his reaction.
Niffty literally swept Vox off his feet with her broom, knocking him forward...and straight into Alastor.
The Radio Demon acted instinctively, without thinking, and caught the body falling into his own, fingers gripping at the other Overlord's shoulders. While that surely helped doing some damage control, he wasn't fast enough to prevent his forehead to slam his forehead against the TV Demon's screen.
Alastor's own back hit the wall, but he didn't even notice, too busy freezing as his mind registered the position they had ended up in.
Vox's hands had scrambled to find a handhold, grabbing the closest handhold they could find...which had happened the Radio Demon himself. Those blue claws had wrapped around his waist, just about his hips, their pressure far too heavy to be ignored, even with the shield of the cloth that separated his skin from them. Their chests were brushing, a hair away from being pressed up against each other and he was almost sure that one of his antlers had gotten tangled up with the other's antenna.
And yet, that wasn't even the worst part.
Red eyes went painfully wide, grin stretched across his face and frozen in both shock and paralysing uneasiness. He could hear the light hiss of Vox's fans, feel the little sparks of electricity biting at his skin where their heads touched. His own breath was washing over the other Overlord's screen, perhaps a little quicker than it should have been.
Their mouths weren't touching, thankfully, but they might have if one of them had inched just a little closer or changed the angle of their faces.
Alastor's stomach lurched, a sick bitterness rushing up to his throat, filling the back of his mouth. Not only had his personal space been brutally violated, but he was being touched against his will in too many spots for his mind to process it.
It was too much. Too much all together.
And yet, very deep down, in the darkest recesses of his brain, there was the faintest whisper saying that, maybe, it wasn't too unbearable.
Vox was steady, solid, warm. He was everything the shadows Alastor usually dwelled in weren't. The way their electromagnetic waves mixed together made up an oddly melodious cacophony and his static weaved through the other's electricity astonishingly seamlessly.
It repulsed him. It made him ill in his guts.
It fascinated him. It made him ravenous.
Abruptly, the Radio Demon melted away into the shadows, causing his companion's face to hit the wall behind him, and he materialised again several steps away.
A hysterical laughter erupted from his throat, loud and straind and high-pitched as he moved even more backwards.
"Oh my! I just remembered. There's an exceedingly urgent business that demands my attention! So very sorry, my dear, but we must cut your visit short. You can find your way back on your own, can't you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, shadows already climbing along his legs, to whisk him away.
"Until next time, old pal!"
And you can bet that he would make sure that the "next time" would not happen any time soon.
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