He had been pacing for hours. That would usually be an exaggeration, but from the moment he had made his discovery early that morning to now, when the day was slowly creeping into evening, he had been holed up in the lab. If it were possible, there would be a ditch- hell, several of them at this point- worn deep into the floor. Finally, he collapsed into his office chair, exhausted, running a hand down his face with a shaky sigh.
He was a doctor, for God's sake. It should have been obvious. The symptoms were right in front of him, but his brain had never considered the possibility.
But it always had been one. He knew that. While he had long ago had his chest and hormones altered, he had never chosen the bottom half of the surgery. It didn't seem necessary. Though he loathed the monthly pain and cramping, he wasn't fond of having his own organs tampered with. Now he wished he had. God, he wished he had…
He tapped his fingers anxiously on his desk, eyes flitting to the three slim pieces of plastic he had thrown down. They all looked the same. Two lines, two lines, two lines… His head ached ferociously. He was tempted to take a fourth, but he knew it would do no good. Just another stressful five minutes of waiting.
Heavy needed to know. He had to tell him. The thought alone petrified him. They were always so careful… but apparently not careful enough. Heavy was surely going to hate him… Had he ever even mentioned that he could… that he might end up…?
There was a sound near the door. He shot to his feet, gripping his chair as if he had intent to throw it at whoever came in. But half a moment later, he processed that it was the battering of wings against the tempered glass. Archimedes stubbornly smacked his small body repeatedly into it until Medic crossed the room to shush him and let him out. He watched the dove zoom down the dark hallway, and then ducked back inside before anyone came along.
The door clicked shut and he rested his forehead against the cool, textured glass. The long sigh he released fogged up the window. Tentatively, he slid his hand down to rest against his stomach. It wasn't much different yet, except being faintly curved and firm beneath his fingers. He cursed under his breath, a sob welling in his throat. All the times he had shrugged the symptoms away.
Hours of sleep lost to midnight nausea, irritability rising to levels so intense it took Heavy a considerable amount of time to calm him back down, sensations of hunger stronger than what he could usually ignore… It hadn't even occurred to him that he had missed his period. He barely kept track of that anyway, and was too absorbed in his work to notice.
A sudden triple tapping beside his head made him jump. The assumption that Archimedes had returned made the realization that it was a much larger form that much more startling. He backed away, eyes tracing the shadow carefully. Heavy. God, it was Heavy.
"Doktor? Brought you dinner," the Russian's voice made his heart rate spike. Medic held his breath, continuing to move away from the door in hopes Heavy would just leave. "... Can see you through door. Can Heavy come in?" Drat.
"Uh, j-ja, vone moment, bitte!" Medic called back, voice faltering. A quick swipe of a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, a hurried straightening of his rumpled vest, a trembling movement to push his glasses up. With a deep breath, he finally opened the door.
The doctor's appearance startled Heavy. Despite his fevered attempts to compose himself, he looked absolutely ragged. The perky hair curl was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his bright blue eyes now dull, clothes disheveled beyond what he would ever expect from the prim and proper German.
"Doktor-?"
"Can you bring zhe food to my desk, bitte?" Medic interrupted a bit too vehemently, then added a solemn, "Heavy, I… I need to tell you somezhing." He turned swiftly to hide the way he squeezed his eyes shut. Heavy was an extremely kind, gentle man, but Medic had no clue how he would react to… this. His mind had conjured up the worst scenarios possible. Would Heavy even want it? Would Heavy want him? The doctor held his arms behind him and marched back to his desk, quickly brushing the testers into an open drawer and slamming it shut.
Heavy followed, anxiety swelling in his own chest. He couldn't fathom what was wrong. The doctor had never behaved this way before. The past few months, he hadn't quite been himself, but Heavy had marked that up to stress. A mercenary's job was gruelling and taxing, and Medic seemed increasingly worn down by it all. But this was different. He seemed… afraid? Heavy worried he had done something to upset him.
The sound of the plate clinking onto the desk was deafening. Medic sat, pushing the food to the side with a queasy swallow and making a gesture for his lover to take a seat as well. He did.
"Heavy…" the doctor leaned on his elbows and held his head, shaking it with a laugh that sounded closer to a sob. "I really… I don't know… how to tell you zhis…" Heavy frowned, reaching forward to lay his hand on the desk, palm up. Medic clutched it desperately.
"Doktor… Is okay," he gave his clammy hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Can tell Heavy anything."
Medic met Heavy's gaze, his eyes holding a silent apology. He reluctantly pulled his hands away to thread his fingers atop the desk.
Deep breath.
"... Heavy, I'm…"
Shaky exhale.
"... Pregnant."
Though tempted to squeeze his eyes shut and hide from the confession, he instead examined every inch of Heavy's face. The Russian's first reaction was a subtle furrow of his brow as he translated the words in his mind, then widened eyes as he translated it several more times to make sure he had heard him right. The side of his mouth twitched.
"Pregnant?" his voice was even, neutral. Medic shrunk back into his seat.
"J-ja, I… I'm sorry-"
Heavy suddenly laughed, and Medic smiled nervously, tilting his head, like waiting for a joke to be explained. The Russian seemed excited, but a reaction like this could just be hysteria-
"Doktor was scared to tell me this?" hands connected again, Heavy's encasing Medic's completely. "Is good news!" The positive reaction had shocked the doctor into silence, the nervous smile frozen in place.
"I didn't… I assumed…" he giggled tensely, voice breathy and relieved. When Heavy stood, he did as well, and they met each other around the corner of the desk for a tight embrace. A wave of intense emotions hit Medic all at once, and he buried his face into the Russian's broad, soft chest, crying openly. Heavy gently rocked him side to side, running a hand up and down his back to soothe him back to tranquility.
"Is okay… Heavy isn't mad," he murmured, cradling the doctor's head and running his thumb through his hair. When Medic had managed to compose himself enough to stop crying, Heavy couldn't help but curiously ask him questions. "When did Doktor find out?"
Medic wiped his eyes with the side of his hand, stepping away for a moment to retrieve a box of tissues. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Vell, zhis morning, actually… I vas tired of feeling under zhe veather and used zhe ultrasound machine to look for vhatever I could find, ja? I figured it was an abscess, an ulcer, a blood clot…" he rolled his wrist in the air as he searched for more terms, but trailed off. Heavy had always been squeamish about that sort of thing. "Anyvay, I vas looking around mein abdominopelvic cavity- my belly, essentially- and noticed zhe foreign shape inside. I vas alarmed, of course, and tried to get a better look. Eventually, I recognized it as an embryo." He noticed Heavy's slightly lost expression. "A baby, mein liebe." Heavy grinned again.
"How long has Doktor been pregnant?"
"Oh, vone… vone and a half monzhs, maybe?" he smoothed his hand over his stomach, content now to feel the slight bump there. Heavy pulled him close again, heart full of affection, and kissed his forehead, smiling against his hair. Medic felt warm, and then suddenly guilty. He couldn't believe he had thought Heavy would react negatively. Gott, he'd been so scared, it seemed ridiculous now. "... Heavy, I'm sorry for acting zhe vay I did earlier." His hands moved up to cup the Russian's face, gently bumping their foreheads together. "I've… never been in zhis sort of situation before, you understand."
"Da, Heavy knows," he laid his hands over Medic's and turned his head to kiss his palm. "Will be okay. We will have family." Medic's heart fluttered. A family… He hadn't had one of those for years. The word, especially when uttered by Heavy, made him emotional once again. Steadying himself with hands placed on Heavy's hips, he popped up on his tiptoes and their lips met. Soft, warm, powerful. When they parted, Medic's arms slid up to wrap around Heavy's neck, and Heavy's hands slid to Medic's hips. He rubbed his thumbs fondly over the doctor's stomach, and they both grinned.
"Ja. A family."