Rogue didn't have that clear a memory of what had happened. He knew he'd come down with something, and he and Sting had quarreled over who should take care of who. How they got from that to him waking up in a hospital, he couldn't say.

From the sounds outside his room, Rogue discerned that he was in a unit for physical trauma, which didn't make much sense to him. He'd been injured, sure, but not severely. His throat ached and his mouth was dry, and simply turning his head towards the door made him so dizzy he felt like he was about to throw up, but none of that had to do with broken bones or wounds in need of stiches. There weren't any obvious features of the apartment he could think of that might have harmed him if he collapsed without warning either. They'd picked the place because it was wheelchair friendly.

Perhaps he'd slipped in the tub? He heard somewhere that it was common to forget head injuries. Maybe he smacked his head on the way down?

It was only after a minute or so of pondering what he was going in a hospital bed that Rogue consciously acknowledged that he was not alone in the room. Sting's presence was such a constant that he hadn't even given it much thought initially, particularly since the steady sound of his lover's breathing indicated that he was fast asleep.

Rogue turned to look at him, dreading that he might see Sting passed out in a chair, and was relieved to see that he'd been provided another hospital bed.

Then it struck him that Sting's injuries would land him in a physical trauma unit.

"Sting?" he called out, unable to keep the nervous edge from his voice. "Sting? Are you awake?

"Am now," the blond murmured.

His eyes opened slowly, almost resisting wakefulness after such deep rest, but when it fully registered for the white slayer that Rogue was awake, they snapped wide open. He tried to sit up as well, but winced and lay back down.

"Are you alright?" Rogue asked.

"Sore." Sting yawned. "They wanted to shove a metal rod up my back. I had to tell them I didn't want surgery until the baby was born. Oh. And they're not discharging us until I get an ultrasound."

"Us?" They were both patients? He'd started to suspect as much but… wait… "Where's Alex?"

"Erza's. She was… not happy with us. I was thinking of naming the kid Mint, by the way. Does that sound too much like a girl's name? I thought it could work either way."

"Sting, why are we in the hospital, and if we're here for something bad, how appropriate do you think it is to talk about baby names right now?"

"Well, you woke up, so I'm taking that as a sign that things aren't life threatening."

"Sting."

"You had a fever and you weren't waking up and I maybe should have worn my splint a little more. But the doctor managed to get your fever down before it got to be fatal, and he said that once you were awake, if you were coherent, then it would be alright to send you home with some medicine so long as you promised to take it easy."

"Okay, but you—"

"I'm fine. I just need to see Wendy."

"Why didn't you?" Rogue demanded. "Sting, what if you permanently injure yourself?"

Sting looked more wounded by the question than he did his injuries. "You wouldn't wake up. I can't sit right at your bedside, but I didn't want to leave you. Besides, I'm not going to do myself any more harm lying down."

He had a point, and the sentiment was too sweet for Rogue to rebuke it. In fact, if he tried, Sting would likely remind him that he'd been on a similar bed watch after the incident that gave Sting his injuries in the first place. But he'd been more justified in worrying, Rogue thought. It took Sting six days to regain consciousness back then.

Actually… "How long was I unconscious?"

"Maybe half a day before Erza came?" Sting guessed. You collapsed on the floor. We… Frosch and Lector got you into bed." And Sting too, no doubt. That could have been the straw that not so figuratively broke the camel's back. "Then another half a day or so here? A little more than half. You sort of woke up twice, but you weren't coherent. How are you feeling?"

"Like death kicked me in the nuts."

"Better then, if you can think to say something like that."

Rogue managed a weak smile. He wouldn't have thought to describe himself as better by any stretch, but being aware of how terrible he felt likely was better than losing consciousness.

"Don't do that again, okay Rogue? You could have killed yourself. Let me take care of you sometimes too."

Rogue kept smiling and said nothing, because he knew that Sting wouldn't want to have it pointed out to him that trying to help had left him unable to sit up. Because he wasn't clear headed enough with his fever to think of anything else to say but to tell Sting that he wasn't in any shape to take care of others by himself, and he knew better than to say that.

Sting smiled back, but even fever addled, Rogue could see how fake a smile it was.

-o-

"Alex stays with me." Rogue was going to protest that one, but Erza's glare killed any words before they left his throat. "It's fortunate that she didn't get sick from you, and you and Sting don't need any additional responsibilities until you work out how to take care of yourselves."

"Alex was fine when you found her," Rogue argued, although not having been conscious at the time, he wasn't certain. "We can take care of her."

"I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying you can't take care of yourselves at the same time. Natsu and Lucy have been helping with her, haven't they? Once you're better, perhaps they could come more often? Or will you be alright to take care of Sting and Alex by yourself at that point."

"I managed before. But work—"

"If you can take care of Kiseki for me as well, I'll give you a portion of my earnings as if we went on a job together," Erza cut him off to say. "You'll be fine once your fever has passed, but Sting's injuries can't be treated until this child is born, and he clearly won't cooperate with his doctor's orders unless you're there to make him."

Recalling Sting's claim of having thrown his brace out the window, Rogue nodded.

This wasn't a conversation they would have if Sting was still in the room. The doctor had come by again with a new drug for Rogue, and if he didn't feel fantastic after taking it, he at least felt like he could move around without his legs giving out beneath him. So long as he didn't make any sudden movements, he didn't feel like vomiting each time he moved either. Once he'd been able to show Sting that he was sufficiently medicated, Sting had agreed to go with his nurse and receive and ultrasound. The nurse, having checked in one him every fifteen minutes for several hours, was elated to be able to cross that task of her list. Wendy having stopped in to see him earlier, he found it manageable to get into a chair and be wheeled away.

"Won't it be… I wouldn't dream of asking you to support us."

"Then we'll see about going off active duty. You've helped out around the guild before. Sting and Alex can hang out while you work."

"He might not like that…"

"Tough. You two scared me half to death yesterday. This isn't going to happen again. Besides, he only has to put up with it for… um…"

"Three months," Rogue supplied.

"Oh. Well, if Jellal could spend half a year confined to my house, Sting can spend a few months sitting around the guild. It's not like he didn't already swing by to socialize anyway."

She wasn't wrong, but there was a difference between going down to the guild to see all your friends, and being dragged there so someone could keep an eye on you while they worked.

Rogue was searching for the best way to explain this difference without it sounding like he fully rejected the idea when a nurse poked her head into the room and said, "Which one of you is the father of Mr. Eucliffe's child?"

They both started at her, surprised by the question. Rogue and Sting stuck so close together in public that when people realized Sting was pregnant, no one questioned who the father was. Erza, in the meantime, was so unaccustomed to being associated with a pregnant man that she could never convince anyone that she was a father. After all, she couldn't exactly announce to the world that she not only knew where the dangerous escaped convict Jellal Fernandes was, but had also sheltered him while he was pregnant with her son.

"I am," Rogue finally thought to say.

"Would you like to see the ultrasound?"

"Is he asking for me to see it."

"No. He's… perhaps you could come anyway?"

Rogue looked to Erza for an explanation, but she only shrugged.

"Alright. Give me a minute."

Since he couldn't walk straight for long, Erza helped him down the hall, up two flights of stairs, and into the maternity ward. (Even if Rogue hadn't been sick, the elevator was out of the question.) By the time they were to Sting's room, the ultrasound machine had been turned off. This suited Rogue fine. His own ultrasounds had never impressed him much, and the only one they'd had before from Sting had been so grainy and undefined that he wasn't sure how anyone had been able to see a baby in it.

Then he looked from the inactive machine to Sting's pale face, and his heart plummeted to his stomach.

"Is the baby okay?"

"They're fine," the doctor, who Rogue thought was grinning far too broadly given Sting's state, assure him. "Your… husband? He just needs a moment."

Because giving Sting a moment when he was upset about something always went so well. Rogue got the idea. Frankly, he preferred going off on his own to settle down whenever something went wrong. Hell, sometimes it even did Sting good to have a moment of privacy after a fight, but Sting wasn't the type who liked to resolve things on his own. He was too socially dependent for that. He liked to know someone was there for him.

"What happened? As you sure the baby's alright? Are his injuries worse now?"

"No, no. They babies are fine, and there's nothing wrong with your husband."

Something about that sentence didn't sound right. Rogue considered it while he sat down beside Sting and wrapped an arm gently around him, then said, "We aren't married."

"I'm sorry. Boyfriend. Do you want to know the gender?"

He wanted to know what was distressing Sting more. In fact, he wanted this idiot doctor who was so dismissive of his precious Sting's distress gone. As it happened, Sting's intent to know the gender ahead of time meant Rogue was going to hear it whether he preferred it be a surprise or not, and letting the doctor give the news would give him reason to leave faster.

"Fine," Rogue said, and he made sure to scowl and glare when he did.

The look made the doctor hesitate, but then he went on grinning and declared, "They're both boys?"

Sting sobbed and turned to bury his head in Rogue's chest, and for a second, Rogue forgot that he needed to comfort him.

"Both?"

-o-

"Twins," Sting moaned. "Why did it have to be twins?"

You'll like them once they're here. Rogue considered saying that, but held off. Sting knew he would like them when they arrived. Or at least, Rogue thought he knew that. Sting liked Alex and Kiseki too much to spite any other children of his.

It didn't really matter. Not in the current situation, at least. Sting's mind was on how miserable his pregnancy was. He didn't care about how he'd feel in three months, when they had two screaming infants to pacify at once. No… no that wasn't right. Two little bundles of joy to brighten their lives. There. At least one of them had to be excited about the kid. Kids.

Oh God. They were going to have twins.

"How did that stupid girl mess up and make me pregnant with two kids?"

"Well, she does have a history of making men pregnant with more children than they wanted," Rogue pointed out. There was himself and Jellal. And Lyon. And who was the fourth man who that dammed Maple had knocked up during the Grand Magic Games? Hibiki? "In any case, it's not like knowing is going to make the pregnancy any more or less comfortable. Although it does help to explain why your symptoms have been more severe."

"The morning sickness?"

And the mood swings that swung towards depression more often than not, but from personal experience with pregnancy induced mood swings, Rogue knew better than to bring those up. "And we'll be better prepared for when they arrive."

Sting grunted an affirmation, which was the most positive response Rogue had drawn out of him since they made it home. He'd already thrown a fit over Erza taking Alex, crying and screaming not over how it wasn't fair that she took their girl, but that Erza should keep her forever because he wasn't capable of anything and they were just going to get Alex killed if they kept her. Then he'd started sobbing about how their twins were doomed too. In fact, those first two babies he lost must have chosen not to be born because they knew they were better off dead than with him. This had been the most frustrating part of the afternoon, with Rogue unable to talk him down from this notion, even when he explained pre-natal development and how the two miscarried babies hadn't developed a brain to even consider that yet.

Finally, Sting had settled down on the couch and began moaning about how miserable it was to be with twins. Rogue had hated being pregnant himself, particularly once he got so large that Alex got in the way of most anything he tried to do. Neither of them would have been in danger of being hit by a magic four-wheeler if he'd been able to get himself out of the way, for one.

But he hadn't been injured while he was pregnant with her. And he hadn't been pregnant with two of her. The only thing Sting really had over him was that he didn't have to deal with any drama over who he loved more, which wasn't much, really. If anything, having both Sting and Natsu there to help him with everything had been a blessing. Not the emotional turmoil side of it, but it had been a near impossibility for Rogue not to have someone to turn too when he needed support. Had Natsu gone missing on a job back then, Sting would have jumped all over the chance to take care of him.

Sting would have tried to lighten the mood, too. He was supposed to be the sun, bright and brilliant, that Rogue could follow. A light that Rogue had never thought would go out…

And here he was about to give out completely.

Rogue himself was trying not to do too much. He didn't want Erza to storm back in and snap at him for not resting while sick, but like hell he could expect Sting to manage things.

He rose from his chair at the kitchen table, coming around to sit on the floor in front of Sting, and gave his best reassuring smile.

"Do you want to come up with matching names for them? If you still like Mint, then how about Spearmint and Peppermint?"

It was the worst suggestion he'd ever made, and the hope had been that Sting would laugh at it, but the blond didn't respond at all.

"Well, what would you name them?"

Nothing.

"Can you tell where they are? Whenever I went to see the doctor with Alex, they'd poke at me and tell me if her head was beneath their hand, or if it was her leg. Once she got bigger, I could tell for myself more."

"Oh. Right. They get bigger. I'm going to pop, aren't I?"

"Probably not. You don't look like you're carrying twins." A large baby, maybe, but not twins. "Besides, plenty of people have survived giving birth to triplets."

"Yeah, but they were women."

"I survived."

"You only had one. And Jellal almost died from one."

True. Rogue hadn't been there when Jellal was in labor. No one had for a good long while, which was part of why it went so horribly. That virtually no one knew Jellal was living with Erza at the time didn't help. But from what he'd heard afterward, it hadn't been pretty. Still, he couldn't concede a point to Sting.

"Well, if you paid more attention to Erza whenever she brought Kiseki over, you'd know that Jellal almost dying is a regular occurrence."

"That's nice."

"Not really, but that's not the point. Sting, this is going to work out?"

"When does it start working?" Sting demanded. "This has been one disaster after another from the start! You were right! You were right about this whole thing being a terrible idea and I never should have gone through with it! I just want it over with!"

Rogue reached out and stroked Sting's arm, saying as gently as he could, "You're past half-way. It won't be much longer, and I know it doesn't always feel great, but it's not—"

"If you say 'that bad' I will throttle you, Rogue! It's the worst. I can't do anything. I can't take care of Alex anymore. I can't help you when you're in trouble. I can't even do the god dammed dishes for you. I'm worthless."

"You're not—"

"Liar!" Sting shrieked.

Rogue froze, unsure what to do here. This was worse than trying to comfort Sting after Minerva stole Lector. Worse than when he'd thrown a mood swing driven fit and pushed Natsu around? Maybe. From Rogue's perspective, most of those were still justified.

"Sting. I don't think you're—"

"Stop it! Just… just…" Sting screamed, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and covering his face to muffle the noise, and to try and keep Rogue from seeing that he'd started to cry.

At first Rogue sat there, waiting for Sting to stop so he could attempt to reason again. But even after the screaming finally ended, Sting didn't lift the pillow. And against Rogue's ears, it wasn't enough to mute the sounds of his sobs. Unsure what else to do, Rogue leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sting, and said nothing.