"Longed for him. Got him. Shit." ― Margaret Atwood

January – Date undetermined

"Any questions or concerns before we stop for the evening?" Dr. Ryan looked around the small group of people surrounding her, smiling. They'd all come a long way since their first days in this little therapy group. Clyde and Rozelle were in love again. Mr. and Mrs. Dumont had weathered many years together and now would weather many more. Peter and Dakota, well, she'd never quite figured out why they were there in the first place – they were sappy and silly, but they'd had a sound foundation from the very beginning. Her eyes landed on the only same-sex couple in the group and stopped roaming.

Wes and Travis, on the other hand, were another story completely. Having been sent into therapy by their captain in a last ditch attempt to save their partnership, they had come farther than any other couple she was currently working with. Quite possibly farther than any other couple ever. On their first day, they were barely talking to each other. Now? Now they were not just a couple but parents as well. It still blew her mind when she thought about it. Wes and Travis and Violet… and it was working. Working well at that.

"I have a question," Dakota said from her left.

"Yes, Dakota, go on." Because Dakota always had a question or a comment or something that needed saying every session.

"I would love to know when and where Wes got that lovely little band he's wearing on his left hand."

All eyes turned to the blond detective and he surreptitiously hid the hand in question in his pocket. Travis noticed the attempt and grinned, taking his partner's right hand into his own. "I asked Wes to marry me," he said bluntly.

Clyde's eyes widened. She didn't really think he had anything against same-sex marriage, but he had a bit of an old-fashioned streak that he couldn't hide. Before he could voice his opinion, his wife cut him off. "And he said yes, right?"

Travis' grin broadened, stretching from ear to ear. "Yeah, he did."

Wes was making a valiant attempt to not look at anyone right then. It made her wonder what he was hiding. "Congratulations," she offered, trying to take the heat off the couple.

"Thanks, Dr. Ryan," Travis said.

"Yeah, thanks," Wes agreed. "Can we go now?"

"Noooooo," Dakota squealed. "I mean, when did you propose, Travis? Have you set a date? I need DETAILS boys! Do you need any help planning?"

Wes laughed. "Uh, he proposed after Violet's big day. And no, we haven't set a date yet."

"Why not?" Rozelle had been drug into the conversation fully now. "That's the first thing you have to do after you get that yes. Besides, Violet's birthday was in November. It's the middle of January, Wes!"

Shooting Travis a panicked look, Wes fumbled for an answer. "Well, he kind of took me by surprise and…"

"And we have other things that are more important to take care of, first," Travis said, stepping in to save him. "That's going to have to be good enough for now, okay ladies?"

"Okay," Dakota and Rozelle murmured together, reluctant at best. Mrs. Dumont nodded her acknowledgement.

"And Dakota, this does not mean you pump the two of us for information while watching Baby Vi either, got it?" Travis gave her a long, hard look to make sure she got his point.

She frowned, but nodded anyway. "Got it."

"Good. C'mon baby, we need to go get our baby from Mrs. Schaeffer before there's another incident."

Grinning, Wes stood, wobbled, and sat back down. "One minute, Trav."

Travis stood beside Wes, rubbing his shoulder quietly. "Take your time."

"Wes, are you okay?" Dr. Ryan peered at him, looking closely at his paler than usual countenance.

"Fine, Dr. Ryan," he assured her. "Just getting over a cold and the lingering congestion has been making me a bit unsteady."

She nodded, understanding. "Okay, let me know if you need anything. The rest of you, session is dismissed."

Travis leaned down, kissing Wes' cheek before whispering in his ear, "Nice save, baby."

"Thanks," he grinned. "I wasn't sure if any of them would buy it, but I think they did. Help me up?"

A strong dark hand reached out giving the requested help. "Always, Wes."

They were the last to leave the room used for the group therapy sessions for the first time in a long time. Before Violet, they'd take off like bats out of hell just to get away from the other members – and each other. During Wes' pregnancy, however, things had begun to change. They grew closer, stuck by each other, and learned how to be friends again. Of course, they were still usually the first ones out the door, chasing Wes' cravings, morning sickness, and anything else his body decided to throw at him. Tonight, however, the return of Wes' morning sickness coupled with that very real cold, had them lingering, waiting for the blond to regain his sea legs.

Wes allowed Travis to haul him to his feet, refraining from remembering just how much help he was going to be needing again in a few months. At least he didn't have to pretend that he didn't love Travis any longer. That alone would make asking for – and accepting – help easier.

"I worry about Dakota," he said as they left the building. "Do you think she's figured it out yet?"

Travis shook his head. "I don't think so. She seems to be so focused on Vi and all of her cute antics to pay much attention to us once we've arrived. We're going to have to tell her eventually though."

This he knew was true. Why he was so reluctant to share his good news, he wasn't sure. Part of him was afraid of being labeled – something – because he and Travis still weren't officially anything, even if they were engaged. Another part of him just flat out refused to share the news, wanting to keep it forever between the three of them – him, his man, and their little girl.

"I overheard a couple of girls at the station talking about her second pregnancy," Travis said, holding open the passenger door for Wes.

"I'm afraid to hear where this is going, but go ahead." Wes buckled himself in as Travis secured himself in the driver's seat.

"She said that with her first, it took forever to start showing. Kinda like you," he said, giving his lover a pointed look. Wes winced at the implications of that look. "But with her second, she swore she was showing ten minutes after conception."

"Oh God," Wes moaned. "You could have gone ten pregnancies and not told me that." Of all the things that happened to him and his body while carrying Violet, the weight gain and inability to get back to his pre-baby shape had taken the biggest toll on him. It might be vain, but he missed his washboard abs. He closed his eyes and tried a deep breathing exercise Dr. Ryan had taught him for controlling anxiety. Realizing Travis hadn't started the car yet, he moved his hand and looked at his husband-to-be. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Ten pregnancies? You want that many kids?" Travis' clear, blue eyes were wide.

"Oh for the love of God, Marks, no! I can barely cope with you and Violet now. And when this new one arrives, you're going to have to commit me. But ten babies? Plus you? Kill me now." He flopped back against the seat's headrest, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Travis' chuckle tickled his ears. "You are so easy, baby. We need to talk to your doctor about getting this issue under control before we wind up with a third. Although…"

"Travis, NO. Please drive," Wes begged.

"I was just thinking," he said, turning the key in the ignition, "that I'd have everything with my Buttercup, my Violet, and my little Pansy growing in your belly… what about Rose and Dahlia, and Daisy and…"

Wes began to sob.

Travis reached across the car's center console and squeezed his knee. "That's just the hormones talking, Wes. It'll be okay."

Wes wasn't so sure.