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When John received the phone call at work that Claire had gone into labour, he was beside himself.
It was Jeremy who pushed him out the door.
"I'm too old for this," babbled John.
Jeremy snorted as they stepped into the lift. "What happened to the man who was always too young?"
"He got married." John's head spun around. "Don't you dare tell Claire that."
Jeremy laughed as they stepped off. "I think she already knows it."
John resisted the urge to poke his tongue out, before the situation hit him front and centre once again as they got into the car. "God how am I going to do this?" He dropped his head into his hands. "I don't think I'm ready to be a father."
Jeremy brushed off his concerns easily as he reversed. "We all feel like that man," he reassured. "But that moment you hold your kid in your arms, anything is possible."
Looking both ways, he pulled out onto the road. Placing his hand on his heart, he picked up on his previous line of conversation. "Trust me, I've been through three already."
He paused a moment. "Brace yourself for the labour though, cos if your girl is anything like mine, it's going to hurt you as much as it hurts her."
John swallowed.
Shortly after, Jeremy parked the car and slapped his best mate on the back as they headed for the hospital doors. "You're going to do great man."
"Thanks," came the weak reply.
Micah Beckwith-Cleary was born just under twelve hours to the relief of his parents, and the hospital staff.
John Beckwith's screams had been particularly ear-piercing.
Finito.