The panic has passed.

Not fully, there are traces of it still clinging to Oliver’s cheek's and breath. But enough that he can think again.

His cheek's wet from tear's suddenly feel the cool air, his breathing is hitching ever so slowly but it's Enough that he becomes aware.

Very aware. 

The room feels cold due to the clinics A/C, Letting him know He’s shirtless. 

Pressed against John’s warm bare chest.

In a bathroom.

With the overhead light showing everything.

He stiffens.

His cheeks burn.

His hands fly to cover himself instinctively. His chest, his stomach, then back up to his nipples.

“Wait—wait, can I— I-I need my s-shirt—” Oliver stutters, mortified.

“I d-didn’t realize— I-I d-didn’t mean—” His breathing picks up again, this time out of embarrassment, not panic.

He curls in on himself, arms wrapping around his torso to hide:

the stretch marks

the soft skin

the extra weight

the curve of his stomach

the faint swelling of his nipples

the body he doesn’t recognize anymore.

But John doesn’t let him fold away.

Gently-very gently, he catches Oliver’s wrists.

“Ollie… look at me.”

Oliver swallows, eyes wet, face flushed.

“I-I look awful,” he whispers.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Oliver looked terrified.

John’s expression changes. It Softens and Deepens.

He sits up straighter, pulling Oliver with him so they face each other, knees touching.

“Oliver Reyes,” he says quietly, firmly.

“I have never, not once- seen anything more beautiful than you right now.”

Oliver’s breath catches.

John’s eyes travel over him — not lustful, but reverent.

“You’re carrying life,” he murmurs.

“You’re changing. Your body is working overtime. You’re growing our family. And you think I’m looking at stretch marks?”

Oliver tries to shrink away again.

John cups his face immediately.

“Those marks? They’re proof that you’re strong. That you’ve survived.”

He trails his thumb over Oliver’s cheek.

“That weight? It means you’re nourishing two little humans.”

His eyes soften even more.

“And that stomach? It’s the most precious place in the world to me right now.”

Oliver’s eyes fill.

He whispers, voice cracked, “You… you really mean that?”

John answers by leaning in and kissing his forehead — slowly, tenderly, lingering like it’s a promise.

“I want you. Exactly as you are. I find you—”

He exhales softly, embarrassed now. 

“—beautiful, Ollie. Really beautiful.” With a slight blush on his cheek's.

Oliver’s throat closes. He presses his forehead to John’s, their breaths mixing.

“I didn’t know I needed to hear that,” he whispers.

“I’ll tell you every day if you want,” John murmurs.

They stay like that — skin to skin, foreheads touching, warm breath intertwined — until:

KNOCK KNOCK.

John freezes.

Oliver jumps.

A woman’s voice calls softly through the door:

“Mr. Reyes? Are you alright? It’s Dr. Hana.”

John’s entire body snaps into protectiveness.

He stands, puts Oliver's shirt on Oliver first — gently, like dressing something sacred — then pulls on his own shirt.

He opens the door just wide enough to stand between Oliver and the hallway.

The doctor stands there, and she looks genuinely concerned.

But John is already bristling. Looking ready to defend, his hands clenching and unclenching, almost like he was trying to hold back his anger.

“You need to fix your front desk,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

“Those nurses were gossiping about Oliver the second we walked in. He heard everything they said. He had a full-blown panic attack because of it.”

The doctor blinks, shocked.

“What? They— they said something inappropriate?”

“They made him feel like a spectacle,” John growls.

“He couldn’t breathe. He collapsed. I had to drag him in here just to calm him down.”

Dr. Hana’s face goes pale.

“I am so, so sorry,” she says, voice trembling with sincerity.

“That is absolutely unacceptable. I will address it immediately — disciplinary action, retraining, paycheck cuts whatever it takes. Mr. Reyes should never have been made to feel judged or unsafe in this building.”

Oliver steps forward slightly and peeks out from behind John.

Dr. Hana softens.

“Oliver, sweetheart, I’m very sorry. Let me take you to my office. Somewhere quiet.”

John puts a hand on Oliver’s back, guiding him gently as they follow her. 

~

She closes the door behind them, after entering her office.

“Oliver,” she begins gently, “I sent that urgent message because your bloodwork came in early.”

Oliver’s fingers tighten around John’s hand again.

John squeezes back.

“It’s nothing life-threatening,” the doctor assures immediately.

“But something did show up — something we need to watch.”

Oliver’s stomach drops. “What is it?”

She pauses.

And then—

“Your iron levels are significantly low. Borderline anemic.”

Oliver blinks. “What does that mean?”

“It means fatigue, dizziness, shortness of breath — which explains the panic symptoms worsening,” she says.

“It means you’ll need supplements, more monitoring, and possibly iron infusions later.”

“And…” Her voice softens, “It means you’ll need to be gentle with yourself. Very gentle.”

John’s thumb strokes Oliver’s hand in reassurance.

“That’s why you messaged me?” Oliver asks softly.

“Yes. I didn’t want you fainting at home. And I wanted to talk about… activity levels, especially after the last visit.”

Oliver’s face goes red.

John’s ears go pink.

The doctor hides a smirk.

“Well,” Oliver murmurs, voice tiny, “I kind of… wanted to know… what male carriers are allowed to… um…”

John coughs into his sleeve.

The doctor smirks openly now.

“You want to know what’s safe during sex.”

Oliver covers his face. “Oh god…”

"There's no need to be shy. It's a normal concern, especially during a first pregnancy."

John looks at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

Dr. Hana folds her hands professionally — but her eyes are teasing.

“Okay. Let’s go over it.”

“You can absolutely be intimate. Touching, kissing, mutual stimulation, and most forms of foreplay are perfectly fine.”

Oliver makes a small dying noise.

John almost does too.

“As for penetration,” she continues:

Both John and Oliver start full on blushing now.

“It’s safe, but with caution. Be gentle. Slow. But most of all Not Too Deep. And Listen to your body. But at any, and I mean ANY type of pain you stop. And call immediately.”

She gestures with a pen.

“Side-lying positions are safest for now. On the Edge of the bed, by reclining on pillows with your feet on the floor or perched on the edge as long as you don't put too much pressure on your stomach but only if you don't have any dizziness beforehand. You can also try positions where Oliver has more control. You can also think of investing in a pregnancy body pillow, it can help relieve hip/back pain and not put too much pressure on your cervix. There's also the spoon type, where you lie on your side, even curled up with knees bent." She didn't even stutter.

Oliver turns scarlet.

John clears his throat like he’s choking on air.

“But... the important thing is that they're comfortable for you.” the doctor adds softly, “But, We can revisit more specifics after the ultrasound today.”

Oliver nods shyly.

John squeezes his hand, being supportive, grounded, and warm.

“And speaking of ultrasounds…” Dr. Hana stands.

“There’s something else we might need to watch out for. But depending on the ultrasound we'll know how it may affect you.”

John tenses. “Something else?”

The doctor hesitates.

“Yes. Something important.”

She leads them toward the ultrasound room.

As Oliver lies down and John takes his hand, the monitor lights up.

John leans in, kissing Oliver’s forehead gently, comfortingly, without even thinking.

The doctor looks at the screen…and her expression changes.

Slowly.

Carefully.

“Oliver… John…” she says softly.

“There’s something I need to tell you both.”