It starts unintentionally, a seed planted separately in both of their minds one afternoon.
He’s in the kitchen getting a drink when he catches sight of Rosé out of the window, across the way in his family garden with a baby in his lap and a smile on his face as he chats to Denali’s siblings. He doesn’t even realise he’s smiling dumbly, brown eyes filled with adoration and longing until his mother sneaks up behind him; hands on either side of his waist and chin on his shoulder as she teases, “You’re going to marry him one day, mijo.”
His heart skips a beat when she presses a fleeting kiss to his blushing cheek, and laughs, “Hurry up, baby, I want more grandkids.”
It’d be a lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Not often, but little fleeting glimmers of the idea passed by every now and then. Visions of Rosé holding a baby, their baby, in his arms, singing them to sleep with soothing lullabies and soft strokes of tiny cheeks.
The idea of him and Rosé starting a family, it feels distant though. A commitment that would take up all of their time and energy, a toll on their careers. A challenge that would test everything, which is a scary thought when everything has always been so easy up to this point. But if there’s anyone that can do it, it’s them, he figures.
He’s got Rosé’s forearms pinned either side of his head, inked fingers running back through his hair as he’s pressed into the hotel bed’s sheets and warm breath hot on his cheeks when the request slips from his lips without second thought.
Hands find the older man’s face, tanned thumbs stroking soft lines across his cheekbones and bambi brown eyes burning into hazel with an overflow of lust as he whispers a simple, “Want you to breed me, baby.”
The request seems to stun Rosé, momentarily at least; hips stuttering on their thrust and brows furrowing with a little crease between them as he scans the brunette’s face. Denali’s legs only cling on tighter, thighs gripping either side of his hips, as he pulls the blonde down into a deep kiss.
“Come inside me,” Denali murmurs breathlessly between kisses, words muffled against the other man’s slicked lips and a whine slipping out too when Rosé increases his pace; clearly spurred on by the desperate whines, as Denali rambles, “Fuck me until I’m full, Rosie.. full of you. Full of your babies.”
One particularly deep thrust makes Denali squeak, nails digging themselves down into pale, freckle-scattered shoulders for support and words trailing off into a overwhelmed mumble of pleas and moans.
Paralysed with pleasure, is the only way he can think to describe it, as his every sense becomes overwhelmed with nothing but Rosé - the weight of his body heavy against the younger's chest, the sickeningly sweet combination of sweat and his usual vanilla scent filling Denali's nose, the heat of the blonde's breath and wet lips mouthing at the curve of his neck. It's all strong hands and ragged breaths and raspy moans until release hits them both like a shockwave.
Pretty brown eyes roll with satisfaction as he feels Rosé fulfilling his wish, the throbbing only making him quiver beneath his boyfriend's collapsed body with a little gasp.
A moment of silence falls between them, stuffy air of the hotel room filled with nothing but heavy pants as the two of them attempt to catch their breath, and then Denali feels the embarrassment start to set in - a pink flush creeping up his neck and tinging his cheeks at the cool wetness between his thighs. Hammering of his heart soothed only by the gentle kiss pressed in place on his collarbone, Denali blinks back down at his boyfriend with a bite of his lip.
It's a barely audible whisper, but it catches the older's attention; brings to gaze of sleepy hazel eyes back up to his own.
“Hi, baby," Rosé smiles, rasp bordering on a breathy laugh, and then he reaches up to trace the pad of his thumb over the brunette's bottom lip with a hum, “What was all that about, huh?”
Instantly, Denali groans, one arm coming up to attempt to cover his blushing face that he's burying into the pillow bashfully. He'd known from the second the words slipped out, desperate in the moment, that the other man would want to talk about it, but that still didn't stop him from wishing he could disappear into the sheets.
“You don’t have to be ashamed, Nali." The blonde's assurance comes, almost as if he can read his mind, and then Rosé is gently tugging his arm back out of the way; coaxing the younger out of hiding with a scratch of his nails through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. Smile turning into a smirk, lopsided and undeniably sexy, he hums, “Was pretty hot actually.. hearing you ask me to knock you up.”
The lewd words pull an unintentional moan from Denali's lips, the colour of his cheeks somehow darkening further, and then he almost has to force himself to swallow under the intense gaze of those hazel eyes.
“If I knew it did this to you, I would’ve been doing it a long time ago,” Rosé teases, the fingers of his free hand tracing taunting patterns dangerously low on the brunette's abdomen. He strokes across Denali's hip bone, up the curve of his waist, and stills his fingers when they reach the patch of skin just above his thundering heart. A kiss pecked in place, and his eyes softening, he murmurs, “Seriously, baby. Talk to me.”
“I’d rather talk about it when I’m not leaking all over the sheets if that’s o-“
Before his sentence is even finished, Rosé is disappearing back beneath the sheets with a grin; bruised legs hitched over either side of his shoulders, and the warmth of his tongue working wonders in a lazy effort to clean the younger up in elicitation of a sensitive whimper.
They talk about it, about the possibility of one day, when they're feeling settled and responsible and ready.
But one day only comes little over a year and a half later, on a cold November evening. Thanksgiving, to be exact, in the McCorkell family home.
Denali is snuggled up on the sofa, a mug of hot cocoa held between his sweater paws, and his gaze flickering between the tiny flecks of snow beginning to fall just beyond the bay window and the small huddle of children gathered in front of the fire. His boyfriend's nieces and nephews, giggling as they play with some contraption of a toy that the brunette can't even begin to understand, with the youngest clapping his chubby hands and babbling in excitement.
The ache of longing barely has time to resonate in his chest, and then there's a a pair of sweater covered arms looping themselves around his shoulders from the back of the sofa. Rosé hugs him, a soft squeeze, presses a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw, and the younger can't help but let his eyes flutter closed at the surrounding scent of home.
He's quiet for a moment, contemplative, and then Rosé's murmur, low in his ear for only the two of them to hear, sends a shiver down his spine.
"Let's do it."
Gazes meet in the middle, unable to stop themselves flickering back to the angel faced baby before them, and one shared smile silently tells Denali exactly what he means.
A bite of his bottom lip, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, the brunette asks a simple, "Yeah?"
Doing it, it turns out, is tiring and stressful and a lot more responsibility than either of them ever naively believed.
Doing it consists of endless meetings and doctors consultations and legal papers to sign, hard to fit into their ever changing schedules, and Denali begins to question how they’re ever going to cope with a real human being relying on them when his nights are already sleepless from the process alone.
He begins to lose track of the amount of bumps they hit in the road; mismatched donors, surrogates that fell through last second, failed rounds of IVF, all things that neither of them have any control over, which only makes it worse. He stops counting how many times he’s broken down in tears in Rosé’s arms at the three month mark.
The only time he does pay attention to the tears again is at the 5 month mark, when he gets the call.
The call that confirms that it’s happening, finally, as he’s aimlessly lounging on the sofa one night. The watery veil stings at his eyes, blurs his vision, as he manages to ramble out a farewell thank you, and then he glances across the hallway at his clueless boyfriend cooking happily in the kitchen.
All it takes is one choked out call of “ Ross. .”, a bite of his bottom lip, a stream of warm tears down his cheeks and a confirmation nod of his head, for the news to hit full force, and then he’s in the older man’s arms and being pelted with tender kisses to every spot of bare skin that can be reached.
“We’re having a baby,” Rosé states breathlessly, hazel eyes bright and those stupid dimples on his cheeks, as he pulls back to blink unbelievingly at the brunette.
“ Yeah. ” Denali’s whisper comes with a sniffle, a gentle stroke of his thumbs across either side of the other man’s face, and he can barely hold back the beam that paints itself on his lips. “Yeah, baby, we are.”
They bicker more in the space of those nine months than in the entire time they've known each other.
They bicker at the twelve week mark, when they're offered the choice of finding out the gender of their baby; Rosé desperate to know, to hopefully fulfil his dreams of having a beautiful baby girl, while Denali straight up refuses. Scolds the blonde with a smack to the arm, a reprimand of how they should be grateful no matter what comes out, after all the stress they've been through to get here in the first place.
Although that doesn't stop him from teasing the older man when they're stood together, Denali wrapped up in pale arms and pulled tightly against Rosé's chest, examining the brand new blotchy baby scan pinned up on the fridge with eyes full of wonder and hearts heavy with excitement; the brunette humming a, "I don't know, kinda looks like there's something there between his legs.." in elicitation of a pinch to his bare thigh and an overjoyed giggle.
They bicker at the 6 month mark, when they finally decide to take the plunge and spend their free week off together decorating the room reserved to be the nursery; Rosé taking it upon himself to start swatching different shades of pink paint on the walls before the younger even makes it back from the store with his samples of icy blue wallpaper.
It ends with pink paint splattered faces, Denali pinned to the carpeted floor of the nursery with a taunting knee tucked between his thighs and a half-hearted compromise of a neutral nursery with colourful accents inbetween messy kisses.
They bicker at the 8 month mark, when things start to get a little more serious, and the realisation finally hits that in potentially four weeks time they're going to have their own living and breathing baby to care for. It's little arguments, mostly, about being prepared and the right way of doing things, but the biggest disagreement comes in the roadblock of work.
Neither of them want to pull back from work, to take on less shows and stop travelling out of state so often, yet both of them throw themselves in the ring for the sake of the other - Rosé insisting that he'll stay home more, unwanting to take the brunette's dreams away from him again, and Denali arguing that he should be the one to stay instead, already knowing that not being able to do what he loved would send his boyfriend's overactive mind through the roof.
It ends with Denali getting his own way, as usual.
The bickering only stops, gets washed away completely and replaced with a tidal wave of unwavering happiness, when their baby is finally in their arms.
It’s a half asleep rush to the hospital at almost 3AM on a Tuesday in January, sky still dark and shaking hands clutched together between them in the car, as Rosé presses encouraging kisses to their intertwined knuckles at every single stop light.
It’s another 6 hours of relentless pacing in the aggressively white corridors, of inked fingers stroking against his thighs soothingly, of passing nurses giving them brief updates to settle their nerves.
There’s one break of emotions, Denali with watery red eyes and a bitten to death bottom lip, face nuzzled into the crook of the older man’s neck as he lets the pale hand running up and down his spine settle the overwhelmed sniffles.
And then she’s there.
A small bundle of pink, the beginnings of dark hair poking out of the top of the blanket, wrapped up in Rosé’s arms and tucked protectively against his bare chest. And suddenly it seems like the most natural thing in the world.
Denali watches hazel eyes, brimmed with both a fresh gathering of unshed tears and a look of complete and utter adoration, examine each and every detail of her tiny face; the anxious twist in his own tummy unravelling itself with ease when Rosé smiles, murmurs a little greeting to their sleeping baby, strokes the back of his finger across her adorably clenched fist.
He only realises he’s crying too, a damp streak staining his tanned cheek, when the older man’s free arm loops around his waist to pull him closer; head instantly resting on Rosé’s shoulder and a teary laugh of relief filtering from his lips as he reaches out to graze the pad of his thumb across her fluff of hair.
“Our baby,” Denali whispers, awestruck almost, but still unable to wipe the smile from his own lips; uncaring of the dimples that dig deep into his cheeks to the creases either side of his eyes.
Rosé’s lips brush across his forehead, leave a lingering kiss in place, and then he murmurs softly, “I love you. So much.”
“I love you too.”
Denali feels the mattress dip behind him, the warmth of familiar arms wrapping around his waist, and then there’s a soft kiss being pressed to the curve of skin where his shoulder meets his neck.
“Come on, baby,” Rosé hums, voice a little raspy from exhaustion, as the tips of his fingers sneak just beneath the hem of the younger’s pyjama shirt to graze against his stomach. “Time to go to sleep.”
Brown eyes fail to flicker from the sleeping bundle tucked up in the bassinet at the foot of the bed, though he can’t deny the way his lashes flutter tiredly. Biting back the yawn threatening to slip from his lips, with a lean back into the comfort of the blonde’s chest, Denali murmurs, “Just a few more minutes? ..I kind of never want to stop looking at her.”
He feels his boyfriend’s lips twitch up into a smile against his skin, and then Rosé is resting his chin on the younger’s shoulder to get a better look too; both of their enamoured gazes tracking the shallow rise and fall of her chest with each soft breath.
“She opened her eyes fully for the first time this morning, y’know,” He whispers, a sweet attempt to leave her undisturbed from her peaceful silence, and then pecks a gentle kiss to the brunette's cheek. Rosé's hand comes up to cup his jaw, tilting his face to let their gazes meet, and lets the tips of their noses just brush against each other. “She’s got your eyes. Those pretty, wide brown bambi-like eyes.”
Denali's face lights up, exhaustion temporarily gone from his features, and Rosé can't help but mirror his happiness too.
“Our little Bambi.”