Sometimes Patrick marvels at the two little boys he and Jonny created, when he watches their little brains work and thinks: where do they come up with these things?
Times like today, when they’ve raided the crisper drawer and are currently using toothpicks to affix various vegetables to a huge pumpkin.
“Hand me the carrot,” Bryan says imperiously to Jonny, who dutifully finds one and offers it up. “No, a bigger one, Papa, pay attention!”
“Bryan,” Patrick warns, leveling Bryan a look. “Do not talk to your father that way.”
“Sorry, Papa,” Bryan says, leaning over and smacking a kiss on Jonny’s cheek. “Can you please find a big carrot?”
“Sure, bud, let me see what I’ve got in here,” Jonny replies biting the inside of his cheek as a smile plays around his lips. “How about this one?”
“Perfect!” Bryan takes the carrot and pierces it with a toothpick, then pushes it onto the side of the pumpkin, where it might be an ear. Patrick tilts his head. Or an eyebrow.
“Here’s a good one, B!” Eric pipes up, holding out a radish. “It looks like a bloody eye!”
They huddle over the radish, planning it’s placement like two generals designing a platoon placement, and Patrick leans over to whisper in Jonny’s ear, “how do my four year-olds know about bloody eyes, Jonathan?”
Jonny blinks at him innocently. “Sponge Bob is so violent these days, Patrick.”
“Sure it is,” Patrick drawls. “Sponge Bob. Not you watching the NHL when the boys are around, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jonny sniffs.
“We saw it when those two guys got into a fight the other day, Papa,” Eric says, spearing the radish into place. “And the one guy had the boo boo on his face and his eye got all bloody. Don’t you ‘member?”
“Uh, I remember talking about how we weren’t gonna tell Daddy about that,” Jonny says sheepishly, then laughing when Eric mimes zipping his lip.
“You’re so busted,” Patrick sing-songs. “I thought we weren’t gonna let the boys watch hockey yet?”
“But… it was the Hawks,” Jonny protests, sliding closer until he can rest his head on Patrick’s shoulder. “And they were playing the Kings! Our mortal enemies!”
“You’re gonna have to change your tune when we move to Los Angeles next year,” Patrick says, leaning into Jonny until he scoots even closer and pulls all of Patrick’s rapidly increasing weight into his lap. “You’re not gonna make any friends at the new firm if you’re constantly bad-mouthing their hockey team.”
“I know, it’s just -- the Kings suck,” Jonny grumbles, and Patrick laughs, patting his chest in commiseration. “They do!”
“They do,” Patrick agrees easily.
“How’re you doing,” Jonny asks quietly. “Any pains today?”
“‘m fine,” Patrick says. “Took it really easy, just a lot of couch sitting and snacking.” He pats his rounded belly. “Obviously.”
“Baby,” Jonny says, rubbing said belly. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Am not, shut up,” Patrick squirms, uncomfortable as ever with how fat he is when he’s pregnant. “I’m so fat already, and I’m barely twenty weeks!”
“You’re not huge, you’re pregnant,” Jonny says, “and gorgeous.”
Patrick sighs. “I’m really not - “
“You’re beautiful,” Jonny says firmly. He leans in to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “You’re glowing, Peeks, and I want to fuck you stupid.”
“Don’t call Daddy stupid!” Eric says loudly, suddenly glaring at Jonny. “That’s mean!”
“I wasn’t -- I didn’t -- “ Jonny sputters, throwing a pleading look at Patrick. Patrick’s too busy laughing at the flush creeping up Jonny’s neck. “I never said he was stupid, I said -- “
“Eric, Papa was just being silly, he wasn’t saying I was stupid. He’d never say that, because I’m not stupid. I’m even smarter than him -- ask him! Ask him to tell you about how much smarter I am than he is.” Patrick arches an eyebrow at Jonny in challenge.
“Uh,” Jonny says, pinching Patrick’s thigh in payback. “Daddy’s very, very smart, Eric. Remember how I told you about when he used to go to the office and help people?” Eric nods, but his face is still scrunched up suspiciously. “Well, you probably never heard how great he was at helping people. One year he won an award for being the best social worker in the entire city! I was so proud of him.” Jonny hugs Patrick a little tighter.
“Really?” Eric asks.
“Really,” Patrick confirms. “Oh, and I was number one in our high school class and Papa was only number three.” When Eric gasps, Patrick laughs. “I know, right?”
“Number three?” Eric looks at Jonny judgmentally. “Why weren’t you better, Papa?”
“Yeah, Papa,” Patrick chirps, tongue in cheek. “Why weren’t you better?”
“Well, it meant a lot to Daddy, and I didn’t want to make him sad by beating him,” Jonny says tartly.
“You -- “ Patrick laughs. “You’re so full of poop, Papa.”
Bryan and Eric burst into delighted giggles, and Jonny fake-growls at them, making them squeal.
“I’ll show you full of poop,” Jonny threatens, trying to stand up, but Patrick clings to the back of the chair so he doesn’t slide off his lap.
“Nope,” Patrick says, snuggling closer once Jonny subsides. “I’m too comfortable to move.”
“Ugh,” Jonny grumps, but he’s biting back a smile.
“Looks like you guys are about done,” Patrick says, nodding at the vegetable pumpkin.
Eric looks at it critically. “Maybe one more cauliflower for the ear.” Bryan pushes finds one and pushes it into place, and Eric nods. “Yep, it’s perfect.”
The pumpkin is awash with vegetables and toothpicks, looking like a violent crudite monster come to life. “It’s amazing, boys! Does it have a name?”
“Percival,” Bryan says without missing a beat.
Eric nods. “Percival Pumpkin.”
“Why Percival?” Patrick asks.
“Because that’s his name, Daddy,” Eric says, rolling his eyes exactly like Jonny does.
“Ah, of course,” Patrick says, fighting back a smile. He slips off Jonny’s lap and stands up, stretching with a groan. He’s been having some low back pain, not unexpected at this stage, but still annoying since the morning-afternoon-and-evening sickness seems to have finally stopped. His pregnancy has been going great. His migraines have even slowed lately.
“Okay?” Jonny asks quietly, watching him carefully.
“Yeah, just a little sore.”
“Why don’t you go lay down while we clean up and move the pumpkins out to the porch,” Jonny suggests, guiding Patrick over to the couch and turning on the Hawks. “It’ll just take a minute.”
“Fine, fine,” Patrick says, yawning widely. “I could probably use a little nap. I only got two in today.” Jonny chuckles and spreads a blanket over him, kissing him briefly before turning back to the detritus of the pumpkin decorating.
Jonny shepherds the boys as they carry the smaller pumpkins outside, toting the huge, veggie-covered pumpkin himself. Patrick smiles to himself as he watches, his heart aching at how much he loves his boys.
“Gonna love you just as much, little missy,” Patrick whispers to the baby, rubbing his belly, once he’s alone. “Can’t wait to meet you.” She moves gently inside of him, a slow, rolling pressure that shifts across one side of his belly, making his shirt stir a little with her motions. “Shh, shh, Amelie, Daddy needs a nap, don’t get active on me now.” He shifts a little more to his side, cradling his belly and the motions die down, reduced to more of a flutter before she settles again.
“Amelie?” Jonny asks from the doorway, his arms crossed and a stupidly fond expression on his face. “I thought we liked Vivienne?”
“I do,” Patrick shrugged. “I just -- she feels like an Amelie.”
“Today, anyway,” Jonny snorts, pulling open the kitchen cabinet where he’s been keeping track of names on a chalkboard. He crosses off Vivienne and writes Amelie at the bottom of the list. “Gonna need another chalkboard,” he tsks.
“Oh fuck off,” Patrick says mildly. “Half of those were ones you vetoed.”
“Because they don’t fit her,” Jonny nods. “Amelie. Hmm,” he tilts his head. “What about her middle name?”
“Oh God, I have to decide between Jackie and Jessica,” Patrick groans, dropping his head back against the couch.
“What about Amelie Patricia?” Jonny says, lifting Patrick’s feet and sitting down. He arranges Patrick’s feet in his lap and pulls off his socks.
“Patricia-a-a-a-, oh, that’s so good Jonny, never stop doing that,” Patrick moans as Jonny digs his thumbs into the ball of his foot. Jonny smirks and rubs harder and Patrick lets himself melt deeper into the couch cushions. “Patricia? I don’t know. The boys are already Bryan Kane and Eric Timothy, don’t you think we should do something that’s not an extension of my name for a change?”
“Come on, Pat, you love your name, and if you remember, I wanted Bryan to be Bryan Patrick,” Jonny says, moving on to kneading Patrick’s arch. “I love the name Patrick.”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, considering. “Maybe? Although if you keep doing that, I’ll probably do anything you want. It feels criminally good.”
“Mmm, well.” Jonny’s voice drops an octave and Patrick’s cock twitches in a completely Pavlovian response. “Save that thought for later, ‘kay?”
“Definitely,” is all Patrick gets out before the boys thunder into the room babbling about Halloween decorations at the Seabrook’s and whether Jonny’s gonna drive them over to see Carter’s Halloween costume.
Patrick waves them off a few minutes later, bundled up in their coats now that the weather is turning cooler again. “Amelie Patricia,” he murmurs as he drifts off. “I think that’s you, baby girl.”
He dreams of a tiny, dark-haired beauty with Jonny’s eyes and Patrick’s curls who looks up and giggles when he calls her Amelie.