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robintrigue“What’s wrong?” Heath asked, curling into bed around his partner. Rhyno had been somewhat distant all week, always biting his lip and turning away quickly whenever he looked at Heath. Normally they had pretty good communication, but something was clearly up, and if Rhyno wasn’t going to start the conversation, then Heath would have to. “You’ve been... quiet, lately.”
“Nothing,” said Rhyno quickly, shuffling further under the covers.
Oh. Heath had been here before, in past relationships. The part where you stop talking to each other. The part where they realise that you’re the way you are all the time, and they realise what a mistake they’ve made. The part where they leave without telling you why. It felt like an anvil had dropped onto his stomach.
“Did something happen?” he asked quietly.
“No, Heath, it’s fine. Let’s go to bed.” Rhyno gave Heath a quick peck, brows still furrowed with anxiety when he fell back onto the pillows.
Heath propped himself onto his side. “Was it me?” he asked.
Silence.
“Was it the kids?”
“Of course not!”
The anvil fell away, taking Heath’s insides with it. Rhyno had a problem with his kids. Damnit! Rhyno had seemed so good, so kind, but Heath should have known better by now than to expect anyone he dated to be able to keep up with his family. And his family would always, always come first. With Rhyno he’d hoped, maybe, but...
“Heath, it’s not the kids!” Rhyno insisted, rolling over so he could place a hand on Heath’s chest. He stared earnestly into Heath’s eyes for a minute, then sighed and started talking in that slow way of his, like he had to gather each word individually before saying it. Heath liked that carefulness about him.
“You’ve been... working late a lot this week,” he began.
“I’m sorry,” Heath interrupted. “It won’t happen again, and we can get a sitter so you don’t have to watch ‘em all the time, I know it’s a lot-”
“I like watching them,” Rhyno said.
Heath studied his face for a moment. Rhyno was smiling, like he really did like watching the whole gaggle. He’d certainly seemed to get along well with them. “Okay. Go on.”
Rhyno’s face fell back into a mask of anxiety. “Tuesday, when you weren’t back yet, Jolene was tired and thirsty from playing cowboys with Gunner, and she asked me for some water. She... called me ‘dad.’”
Heath’s heart fluttered with a dozen emotions at once.
“I dunno if they had a meeting or something, because now uh...” Rhyno stared sadly at Heath. “Now it seems most of them are calling me, uh, ‘dad.’ Instead of Rhyno. Sometimes it’s ‘dad Rhyno,’ but...”
Then he bit his lip and looked away. Heath’s heart was still racing, but sadness was winning out over the brief flash of joy and pride. He settled back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a feeling of loss creeping over him, even though he hadn’t actually lost anything; Rhyno had never expressed an interest in being a father, so it wasn’t like Heath’s hopes had been up.
His lips felt weirdly dry and cracked. He had to lick them before speaking. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll, I’ll talk to ‘em, make ‘em stop.” He could talk to them. Heath had long ago learnt that he couldn’t really stop his kids from doing things they wanted to do, not beyond snatching sharp objects out of their reach. Ricky’s recent nudist streak was proof of that. But he could ask them to stop calling Rhyno ‘dad,’ if it was upsetting him.
“Oh.” Rhyno’s voice sounded choked and strange. “Right. If you think that’s best.”
Hang on. Heath sat up and turned on the overhead.
“Rhyno? You didn’t... mind?” Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up.
Rhyno looked like a rabbit in headlights. “I’m not a dad, Heath, I don’t know anything about kids!” he deflected.
Heath laughed as quietly as he could so as not to wake anyone up, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “You’ve been spending time with them most every day for a year, I think you’ve learnt some stuff. And they like you loads, you know.”
Heath almost started fully crying when he saw the happiness fill Rhyno’s face when he said it, drowning out the worry for just a second.
“You think they do?” he asked timidly.
“Sure they do! You’re the one Cheyenne goes to whenever she needs help with an art project for school aincha?”
“I don’t know anything about art though.”
The two of them were sitting cross-legged, the light too bright in this room for this late at night. It made everything feel like they were floating in some strange spaceship, like this conversation wasn’t happening in the real world at all but in some bubble with just them.
“How’d ya feel, when Jolene first said it?” Heath asked. It was a test, it was all a test, but his heart was racing, and for the first time in a long time, he thought maybe.
“It was fine!” Rhyno promised. “I mean, I don’t know about kids, but I figure you’re not supposed to let them see you crying, so I waited until she’d got her water and was tucked in bed before I started.”
Heath couldn’t hold back any longer, he started laugh-crying, snot streaming from his nose.
“You’re not... mad?” Rhyno asked. He sounded hopeful too.
“Why would I be mad?” Heath asked, patting around the bedside table for tissues. He always kept a few packs handy since he was such an easy crier, but couldn’t seem to find any now. Rhyno scooted forward.
“Here,” he said, holding out the hem of his oversized pyjama t-shirt. “Blow.”
Heath did.
“Rhyno... D’ya wanna do this? With me? I know you’re already here every day, helping out, and taking Boomer to practice, and you’ve always been great with Waylon even when he needs changing, but... Do ya think you’d ever want to make a more official thing of it, with me and the kids?”
“You would want that?” asked Rhyno, wide-eyed. “Heath, I don’t know anything about kids – and yesterday Boomer said he hated me!”
“What happened?” Heath couldn’t help smiling. Today Boomer had insisted that he wouldn’t let anyone read the short story he was writing for class except Rhyno.
“I was making spaghetti for everyone, and when I told Boomer he couldn’t have any ice cream until after dinner, he said ‘you’re the worst dad ever,’ and-” Rhyno’s story was cut off by Heath peppering his face in kisses.
“The kids love you,” he said, “and so do I. And it sounds like they’re alright with the idea of you being a dad. And...” Words he’d never been able to say to anyone before. “And I am too, if you want. If it would make you happy.”
Rhyno was looking at Heath like he couldn’t believe his ears, one hand still balled up in his shirt. “But I’ve never been a parent to anyone before. What do I do?”
There was a knock at the door. “Dad?” It was Jayla, rubbing her eyes. One of her pigtails had come undone. “I had a bad dream.”
“What happened?” asked Rhyno immediately, frowning with worry. Jayla climbed onto the bed between them, mumbling something about a fire and a dog and a girl at school being mean to her. Heath pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Sweetie, you’re burning up!”
“I’ll get the thermometer,” Rhyno said, and hurried out of the room. He returned moments later, juggling the electric thermometer, a bottle of children’s painkillers, a small cup of ginger ale, and a plastic wash basin in case Jayla felt like throwing up.
“’N then I woke up and Jolene kept kicking me...”
“If she was asleep then I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” Heath soothed. He took the thermometer from Rhyno and turned it on. “Now no talking for a couple minutes while this is in, alright?” Jayla nodded, and Heath pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead. Rhyno sat heavily on the bed, twiddling his fingers anxiously for a moment before he leant forward to undo Jayla’s other pigtail, tucking the elastic under his chin while he worked her hair into a loose braid.
Yeah, Heath thought. The kids made a good call this time.
The thermometer beeped, and Rhyno pulled it away from her gently, handing it to Heath.
“Thanks dad,” Jayla mumbled. Their eyes met over her head for a minute, both of them smiling with nervous happiness.
“Well kiddo, you don’t have a fever, but you’re still pretty warm,” Heath said.
“Should she sleep in here with us?” Rhyno offered. Heath nodded.
“Might be a good idea. Sweetie, you should wake us up if you feel any worse or if you think you’re gonna throw up, okay? Do you got a headache at all?”
“I need Puppy!” she insisted. ‘Puppy’ was what she had named her stuffed deer toy when she was three.
“I’ll go get him for you,” Heath promised.
“Kitchen,” Rhyno mouthed, holding out the ginger ale for Jayla to sip. When Heath returned, she was already curled up asleep on him. It looked so peaceful. Heath tucked the deer under her arm and shifted her onto a pillow.
“Heath?”
“Mmm?”
Rhyno reached out, rubbing Heath’s shoulder until he looked up.
“They’re amazing,” Rhyno said. “You’re amazing. You all love each other so much. How you raised such wonderful kids on your own – your family is incredible. I’d be honoured to be part of it, if you’ll have me.”
Heath reached forward and kissed Rhyno very gently. “You know, Dad Rhyno,” he said, “I think you already are.” And if scientists could bottle the amount of happiness that shone on Rhyno’s face at that moment-
“Dad?” Another voice from the door. They both looked up. “I sorta threw up.”
Heath patted the bed. “Come on in, Cheyenne. Let’s take your temperature.”
Rhyno stood up. “I’ll go get some sleeping bags; we can take the floor and keep an eye on them during the night.”
He ducked out of the room. Rhyno heard him rummaging in the storage closet where they kept the extra blankets and pillows. Cheyenne’s thermometer beeped.
In the end, their bed was taken over by four patients, each snoring softly in their own rhythm. Rhyno and Heath were settled at the foot of it, each dozing semi-alert in case the regular night time snuffles turned into anything more serious. Heath reached over and took Rhyno’s hand.
Rhyno looked at him through the darkness. “I love you,” he whispered, careful and serious as always.
Heath’s face flushed, and he wiggled his sleeping bag a little closer, synthetic rustling noisily against synthetic. “We love you too,” he replied. Rhyno squeezed his hand, and they both settled back into their alert, parental rest.
