A/N:Good evening, duckies! I literally just got a message about being nom'ed for the non-canon awards. Can I assume it was one of you Trouble readers? MWAH. Love you, ducks.

"You look pensive, Edward." Alistair stared at him with piercing blue eyes. Sonova bitch was way too good at reading expressions. "Do you have something specific to talk about?"

Edward looked up at the therapist, considering the question. Alistair smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. Easy for him to say.

Beside him, Carlisle reached out and took his hand, twining their fingers together. His expression, too, was encouraging, but Edward could also read nervousness and fear there. He reached out, extending his free hand palm up. Getting the idea, Carlisle twisted in his seat so they were looking only at each other for a moment, their hands joined. Edward held them there for a few seconds, needing to establish his absolute love for his husband. This conversation needed to happen, but it wasn't about a deal-breaker.

Edward didn't think there was such a thing as a deal-breaker in his relationship with Carlisle.

With a sigh, he let go of one hand and turned to face the doctor. "This feels like navigating a minefield."

"What does?" Alistair asked.

"This. Therapy." He swallowed hard. "There's so much going on all at once. I feel like the baby should be the most important thing. Or my mother." The words tasted bitter in his mouth. "I think it took us a few days to recover from her visit."

Carlisle scoffed. "You're being generous. I think it took me a few days to recover."

Edward was quiet for a moment. He hadn't wanted to phrase it that way. "Seeing her again, everything she said and the fact she still can't listen, it did affect me. I'm so fucking angry."

It was the truth, but he knew what Carlisle meant. For Edward, the episode brought on a rash of fresh anger. His hate and his guilt over hating his parents as much as he did would likely be part of him for the rest of his life. Carlisle had suffered a brief but debilitating backslide after the visit. His mood turned inward and gloomy. His mental distance put a damper on their intimacy. It took a few days to shake off the spectre of those old wounds made fresh again.

"But, life never does us the courtesy of letting us deal with one thing at a time," Alistair said, directing the flow of the conversation. "If I'm understanding you correctly, Edward, you have a concern you'd like to talk about, but you don't know if this is the time."

Edward nodded. "Yes."

"Well, let's see. Babies and preparing for parenthood are of tremendous concern and importance of course." The corner of Alistair's mouth turned up. "However, there's only so much you can do at this particular point. You've both acknowledged your fears. After such a traumatic loss, it's only natural to be anxious. You're dealing with that, though.

"Seeing your mother again brings up any number of issues." Alistair tilted his head, considering Edward. "If you wanted to schedule an individual session, that might help. How you're dealing with her reappearance on a personal level is just the kind of situation therapy is good for. However, this particular session is about you as a couple." He nodded to them both. "On that subject, from what you've both said, you're doing well supporting each other. If anything, it sounds as though dealing with the aftermath of her visit has only reaffirmed your closeness."

Edward looked to Carlisle, and they smiled at each other. "I hate that we had to see her again," Edward said. He furrowed his brow. "I hate that seeing her reminded you of all the vile things they said about you. But it was good to be able to defend you to her. It was good to say all the things I've wanted to say for a year now."

"You made it sound like she was the monster torturing us," Carlisle said. "That was good for me to see, I think."

Alistair nodded and looked to Edward again. "The point of therapy isn't curing. It's coping. Part of coping is knowing what the playing field looks like. Reality will always get the better of us. There's no sense in denying something exists or depending on a thought, a feeling to go away of its own volition. Let's see what we're dealing with here."

"Okay." Edward took a deep breath. "It's what I was talking about before, I think. Everything is so complicated. I spend so much of my time overthinking everything. Nothing is simple."

Edward took another steadying breath and twisted in his seat to face Carlisle again. He took his one hand in both of his. "The truth is, I've been missing the relief of subspace for a while now."

As he expected, some of the color drained from Carlisle's face. His hand would have fallen from Edward's, but he kept a tight grip as he stumbled on. "I miss being able to put everything else in my life aside and come to this place that's only you and me. Everything I feel in scene, all the emotions, are so singular, clear, and intense. I exist to please you and take pleasure from you. It's my one goal, the only thing I have to think about. Your pride in me, when you call me a good boy and I know I've pleased you, is, for that time, the greatest happiness in my life.

"Even things that should be negative are better. In subspace, your disappointment in me is devastating, but it's this redeemable, pure devastation, you know? If only all life was as simple as that. I displease you. I'm punished. I'm forgiven completely, and showered with love and affection." He raised a hand to stroke his thumb over Carlisle's cheek, wishing like hell he could erase the tightness at the corner of his eyes. "Cherished. I miss it." He swallowed hard, remembering Bella's advice. "That's where I am. I think I need to hear where you are."

Carlisle held his gaze for a moment more before he ducked his head. Edward could see his breath had quickened, and his stomach twisted. The last thing he wanted to do was cause his husband anymore pain or distress.

Alistair's voice was gentle as he spoke again. "If I'm reading this right, I believe the question Edward's asking you to answer now is not whether or not you can be a Dom again. Let's put that question from our minds for the moment. What Edward is asking for is a status check. Can you think about the scene? Talk about it? Or does the very idea make you too uncomfortable?"

Edward pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Carlisle's palm was damp in his. The silence in the room stretched on, and Carlisle didn't look up. His lips worked soundlessly, as though he was biting the inside and soothing it.

Finally, just as Edward thought he might go insane, Carlisle raised his head. "I miss it, too," he said, his voice soft. "I do miss the closeness." A small, sad smile touched the corner of his mouth. "My beautiful, brilliant boy. You have no idea what a pleasure and a privilege it was to be the one who got to see you like that—so blissed out and deep in subspace. I miss the look on your face after an intense scene. I miss being the one you trusted with everything. I miss the lightness—everything in the world faded away except for you—and the intensity." He swallowed, hesitating only a moment before he continued. "And it still makes me so guilty, but remembering holding you after a punishment, that you felt safe and secure enough to cry in my arms...that's special for me, because I know what that means for you, how far you've come. I miss being the one you can trust like that."

"Okay, good. Let me tell you what I'm hearing," Alistair said, catching their attention. "Or rather, what I'm not hearing. I'm not hearing repulsion, disgust, or distress at the thought of the scene."

Carlisle took a shuddering breath. "I...want to believe we can have that again. I'm scared." He looked at Edward. "You know that, of course. I'm scared of what it means for us, but I'm also scared what it means for me. If I tried and failed...to know for sure that part of me is gone and lost forever…" He shook his head.

"Fear is something we can deal with," Alistair said. "As far as irrevocably broken pieces go, fear isn't a bad thing. There are coping mechanisms and techniques to get past fear." He got to his feet and went around to his desk, speaking as he rummaged. "I know it's not something one wants to hear in regards to your sex life, but it's not so bad in practice. Ah. Here it is."

He straightened up brandishing a long feather. Edward and Carlisle exchanged bemused glances. "Frightening, isn't it?" Alistair said, sitting down again. He turned the feather from side to side so they could get a better view. "A true implement of torture used by only the most devious of minds."

Setting it down on the table beside him, he smiled at the two of them. "It's true, of course, that scenes can get extreme. It's true that we leave marks on each other, inflict pain and discomfort. Those things can be difficult to explain or rationalize, even to yourself. Yet, therein lies the beauty. The amount of responsibility and trust it takes to be a Dom, the absolute compassion, self-awareness, and concentration on your partner is the antithesis of monstrous.

"In that, let us not forget BDSM is a path. Once upon a time, Edward put his trust in you to take him to the edge of his limits, of his desires. But you didn't jump straight there, right? When you first began your journey together, you didn't land on the edge that very night."

"No," Edward and Carlisle agreed together.

"No. And I'd wager that as you grew and discovered together, your edge was redefined. You pushed further in some areas, pulled back in others."

"Yes," Edward said.

Alistair nodded. He picked up the feather again. "Our scene isn't all about whips and chains. Even the most vanilla couples introduce some form of kink into their sex life now and again. My advice to you would be simply this: play.

"In the wake of sexual dysfunction, sex can become something to be conquered. A chore. A job. It still doesn't come as easily as it did before—not as unencumbered."

"It's not bad," Carlisle said. "Not by a long shot."

"No. But not as simple as before."

"No," Carlisle said, ducking his head.

Edward squeezed his hand again. He knew exactly what the doctor was getting at. There was always a moment of tension, both of them wondering if everything would work. And Carlisle wasn't as free as he had been before. There were days he struggled to express his feelings for Edward physically, days when he was ever so slightly cold and distant. It was much better than it had been, but still, it existed.

"All of which is perfectly normal," Alistair reiterated. "Remember what we've been talking about—neither of you are the people you were before you suffered this trauma. Your edges, your limits, have changed. Now is a good time to remember that there's a lot of soft stuff in the scene too. Sensory play can be powerful in its own right." He poked the feather in the air. "This motherfucker right here has left me begging and pleading and straining against fluffy pink handcuffs more than once in my life."

They laughed, glancing at each other almost shyly now. Alistair looked satisfied. "When you're ready, don't try to slip into scene. Don't try to take on the roles of Dom and sub. Just play and see where that takes you."

"I have a question," Edward said.

"Yes?" Alistair asked.

"Do we have to play with pink furry handcuffs?" He turned to Carlisle. "Because I have to tell you, I'm not going to be the one who walks into the sex shop for that." He widened his eyes in mock horror. "Someone will think I'm gay."

Carlisle fought it hard. Edward saw the way he tried to force the curve of his mouth down. He waggled his eyebrows helpfully, and Carlisle broke, laughing out loud.

"I have another question," Edward said, addressing his husband this time. He put on the most innocent expression he could muster. "When Alistair suggested we try dating, you took me to San Francisco. If we're supposed to try playing, where are we going for that?"

Shaking his head, Carlisle threw an arm around Edward's neck. He pulled him in and kissed his forehead. "Brat," he whispered in his ear.

~0~

"I'm going to kill you both if you don't stop that."

Edward and Carlisle sat on either side of Bella. Edward did his best to shake off his nervousness to give her a steady smile. "Stop what?" He asked.

She fixed him with a cool stare and didn't say a word. Instead, she reached out and pressed each of her hands over Edward and Carlisle's bouncing knees, stilling them. "The tap, tap, tap is going to drive me crazy."

Giving Edward a rueful look over Bella's head, Carlisle rubbed her back. She'd been moody the last couple of weeks. There wasn't much she hated more than throwing up, which she'd been doing regularly. "Sorry," Edward said, kissing the side of her hair.

She huffed and laid her head on his shoulder. "The feeling-like-crap part doesn't last much longer, right?"

"Every pregnancy is different. Some—"

"Hey." She poked Edward in the chest. "Don't give me the doctor answer. Give me the dad answer. I've seen all the books you got. Dad's guides to pregnancy and all that. You should know what I want to hear."

Carlisle chuckled and took over. "It's a first trimester thing," he said, winking at Edward. "You'll start to feel better, have more energy, soon."

Bella pointed at him. "I like that one. He gets to hold my hand."

Before Edward could argue his case, the door to the back came open. "Bella Swan?"

It took some shuffling—there being two daddies involved, neither of whom were Bella's significant other—but soon, they were all situated in the room with the ultrasound machine. Carlisle sat in the seat beside Bella, holding her hand as she'd promised. Edward stood beside Carlisle, trying not to get in the way. The urge to doctor, even though this wasn't his field, was a strong one. Bella had made them both promise they were daddies not doctors.

Surprisingly, it was almost easy to forget about the technical aspect of what was going on. As soon as the technician pressed the wand to Bella's skin, Edward's eyes were riveted on the screen.

Then again, they couldn't turn off the fact they were doctors. They knew exactly what they were looking at as the technician moved the wand over Bella's skin.

"Oh, hell," Carlisle said, his eyes wide.

Edward pressed his palm to his mouth, hiding whatever the hell his mouth was doing. Was he grinning? Was his mouth open in a silent scream? Who the hell knew? He couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"What? What is it?" Bella asked, looking between the three of them. "Someone let the non-doctor in on whatever the hell is going on."

The technician looked amused. "It's all you, Dr. Dads. You know I can't say anything."

Carlisle swallowed hard and reached out with his free hand out to tap the screen. "One. Two." He swallowed again. "Three."

"Oh," Bella said, sounding stunned. "Oh. Oh. Oh, fuck." She put a hand over her eyes and groaned. "Are you kidding?"

Edward counted for at least the twenty-second time. "Nope. He's not kidding." He took a deep breath, grasping Carlisle's arm because he thought, for a heartbeat, that he might faint. "Three amniotic sacs. All three embryos took."

Hiding behind her hands Bella groaned again. "I'm going to kill both of you," she grumbled.

Carlisle turned to Edward, his eyes shining. "Wow," he mouthed.

Bella peeked at them. She seemed as overwhelmed, but she smiled. "Congratulations, you fucking bastards. I hope you're satisfied. This is not Friends, you jack asses. This is real life. You're supposed to have one baby at a time. For fuck's sake."

It was Carlisle who started laughing. It was a maniacal kind of sound—high-pitched and giddy. When he heard it, Edward tittered. They looked at each other, blown away and ecstatic and maybe freaking out just a little bit.

"Freggin lunatics," Bella said with affection. "Don't mind them," she said to the technician. "Suckers just figured out they're going to have to raise three babies at once while I get to sleep at night. So there." She stuck her tongue out. "But I'm going to get huge. Fuuuuck."

That only set Edward and Carlisle off again. Carlisle had bent at the waist, his arms wrapped around his stomach because laughing that hard hurt.

"Oh, we're in trouble," Edward said, hugging his husband close to him. "We're in so much trouble."

A/N: Bloops!