It was fair to say that Tom and Santi were two of the most creative minds in the gaming and food industry. They were both known (or at least, now known after Mat, their boss, retried) as the masterminds behind Game Theory and Food Theory respectively, but they were also known as work friends that strayed as close to something more as possible.
It wasn't a surprise they were like that, however. Not to anyone who knew them and themselves. They had been friends for years since Santi had been inducted into the company, their friendship was built on common interests like late-night debates about the latest gaming trends, media like TV shows and movies, as well as Tom's unholy taste in food thanks to his Brisitsh palette and Santi's borderline desperate attempts to fix it both with his culinary skills and his Mexican heritage.
They also had another thing in common, unwavering support for each other's endeavours and fueling each other's chaos (Amy's words, not theirs), being able to joke about everything, share secrets between them and go to great lengths to help one another out when one was in a bind or needed to bounce ideas off of someone who would listen.
It was no surprise that this behaviour made them look like a couple, as some both online and offline had commented - but given Tom had just gotten over his divorce from his partner and Santi had only just broken up with his girlfriend, both men were not only single, but emotionally unavailable for the foreseeable future - which made the next few events completely reprehensible and also, unforgivable.
If Tom could have blamed anything that night, he would have blamed the wine. Those several California reds he'd had over dinner with the Theory crew were fighters and they had boxed out his brain as soon as the 3rd glass touched his lips, the world turning into flying colours and swirls of emotions he'd been bottling up the last few weeks.
He could vaguely remember Santi and Lee finding him after he'd left the room for a moment to cry outside and Santi asking him if he wanted to go home, but everything was quite hazy after that. Of course, it's only when he wakes, arse up in the air and covered in sheets that are not his, equally in a bedroom that isn't his with a familiar dark-haired man snoring beside him, does he realize what he's done.
It's quite awkward as he and Santi (who wakes to an empty bed smelling bacon and finds Tom wearing his dress shirt from the night before) eat in the kitchen, but eventually, they talk. It's as messy as Tom expected. Half-hearted apologies and all.
At least they could agree on something - it was a moment of passion they both regretted, knowing it could jeopardize their friendship and working relationship. They also agreed over Santi's island turned kitchen table never to speak of it again and moved forward as if nothing ever happened, like Tom had slept over after one too many drinks.
It was meant to be so easy. Tom's heart hurt of course now that he recalled it so vividly, but he couldn't understand why. It was just Santi after all. Santiago. His coworker, his friend.
However, fate had a different plan in store for them that he didn't see coming, which had led to the confronting scene here of Tom staring fearfully up from the ground as Santi stood feet away from him, his eyes wide as tea saucers.
It had started with tea, actually. His usual favorite drink had suddenly become obsolete, he couldn't go near it unless he wanted to end up vomiting into the sink. It wasn't just tea, however, that he couldn't stomach. Eggs, the smell of rain (how ironic as a Brit), paint. All of them made him turn tail and run for the nearest connected drain.
He was constantly nauseous and unable to cure it and moreso, his body was changing. He was gaining more weight, his nails had become less brittle despite the fact he chewed them to death when he was writing, his hair was growing out faster and his jeans, usually quite roomy before, had become tight in the last couple of weeks in the thighs and waistband area.
All of it was weird, weirder than just having the flu or even a stomach bug like he suspected initially, given the US wasn't exactly the cleanest. He put off going to check up on it for a while, far too occupied with running Game Theory, but eventually, it took its toll on him as it was rendering him useless at work and eventually, he went to a doctor, paid for thankfully by health insurance as he couldn't afford the American healthcare system on his salary in a million years.
To say he was shocked when he was told that he was pregnant would be an understatement.
It felt like the ground had fallen out from underneath him at those words, the announcement still ringing in his ears even in the cold and lonely brick walls of his rented apartment. What was he going to do? He'd just been promoted at Theorist HQ and becoming the host of Game Theory wasn't something to be taken lightly, especially now there was a new layer of complexity to it all. There were theories to script and editing and voiceover to record and…
Tom buried his face in his hands. Not only would there be more work to do, there would be many to tell. The top of that list being Santi obviously, but it was… just something Tom hadn't, no, didn't want to do. The thought of bearing a child with his best friend (and man-crush, yes, he'll admit it) weighed heavily on his mind. How could he possibly explain this to Santi without jeopardizing their friendship or his own reputation within Theorist?
He didn't want to lose the man he'd come to admire after all.
It wasn't like Mat wouldn't understand and wouldn't support him in whatever decision he made, but the feelings of having to work with Santi, hell, anyone at Theorist right now made his already sick stomach twist just that little bit more. It was already different between him and Santi - they could barely pass eachother without their smiles seeming as tight as Tom's pants were getting as this unintended mistake made itself known.
He didn't want to throw another spanner in the works and drive his friend away forever.
He had always wanted to be a father, but he never thought it would happen like this.
Eventually, after several uneventful days of locking himself in his apartment and thinking it over, Tom decided that the best thing to do was to leave the US and go back to the UK, back to his actual house and hometown and family like his parents.
He thought that it would be easier for him to deal with everything on his own, away from Theorist and Santi and everything else that could make it worse. Sure, it sounded bloody well cruel and his heart ached at the thought of what Santi might think as he was a part of this as well, but this baby would be raised in a good world, a kinder world than Tom was used to and he would make sure of it going forward, regardless of Santi knowing or not.
There was just one problem however with this plan of his.
It was as if fate was trying to keep him in the US permanently, his attempts to buy plane tickets being thwarted by already fully booked flights, sudden illnesses that had kept him bedbound for days at a time, passport problems and inexplicable delays with work that required his attention in the present and not somewhere else.
Due to this, the bump that at first could be hidden beneath loose clothing and sized up jeans over a few weeks, now took on a growth spurt that made it grow to a size that was too prominent to disguise as easily, causing Tom immense stress and anxiety and adding to the already striking illness that had consumed his life, in and out of work.
It pushed against hoodies, it strained against t-shirts and it just kept growing and growing. At one point, Tom was convinced it was twins, but the ultrasound tech only saw one very large, but very healthy baby in there.
Worse to all, he was still ill at certain times and sadly, despite already feeling overall crummy, every time it rained or someone had tea around or there was a hard kick or movement, he was off like a shot to the bathroom, gagging and throwing up what little he had forced down that morning or lunchtime, noticing he was starting to look thin and gaunt in the face as time passed on and the weight packed onto his abdomen.
He could see the concern on his friends' faces and hid as best he could behind a wry smile, joking that the American food system was trying to take him out, which some found funny, but others that were still wary, like Santi who had been eyeing from his desk lately despite interacting with him on a daily basis, didn't find so amusing.
That party also included Mat, who after a few days came back to speak with him. In fact, it was more like him practically (but nicely) demanding that Tom go home and rest, as he was clearly not well enough to be in the office. Tom being Tom had protested of course, but MAt insisted and he was home within the hour passed out on his couch and feeling miserable.
Mat had given him a few days off. That few days turned into a week, then a week and a half before he came back in. However, it wouldn't last long. The bump was bigger than ever and he still had more growing to do, so it was now or never to get back to the UK while he was still able to board a plane, let alone walk. Of course, he knew that people would become suspicious as he started missing work and made excuses to avoid seeing anyone for the next couple of days till he could come up with a reason as to why he'd flown back to the UK, but it was the only option he had at this point.
It was now that everything, of course, had to unravel, as while Tom was packing his bags with what little possessions he had brought with him or brought within the US, Santi was attempting to understand why Tom had suddenly changed so much out of the blue.
He wasn't like he hadn't felt guilty since their one night stand. It was something that almost kept him up at night for months at this point. There were times when he'd wanted to try calling and messaging him outside of their normal conversations, but those usually ended with him rethinking everything. However, the last few weeks just seemed…off.
Tom was looking quite ill the last few days. Santi, as did many others working in the office, had noticed that his skin was more pale than normal and he seemed to just disappear every 5 seconds when it was break time, returning worn out and exhausted looking.
There was even a meeting Santi could recall where about halfway through his presentation, Tom looked like he was about to double over and collapse, green at the gills, but continued talking on like nothing had happened. Santi could see his eyes boring into the computer screen and others as he talked, darker than they used to be with a cloud of something overcasting them to not look right, just like the rest of him.
Something just wasn't right, but it takes Ash coming up to him and asking if he's heard from the wayward Englishman before he realizes he hasn't seen or heard from him for days.
Now he /knows/ something is very wrong. As much as he and Tom don't talk much any more thanks to what happened previously, it was very un-Tom like behaviour to just go all radio silence, especially when it came to work. Bile bubbled in his stomach as his mind raced through possibilities. What had happened to his friend?
He decided to volunteer to go to Tom's apartment to check on him, the office and Mat expressing their thanks as he made his way through Raleigh's traffic (not as bad as LA's thank god) to Tom's rented door, the quietness of the place unnerving to Santi's already slightly panicked brain.
He, hauntingly, was met with locked doors and of course, no answer from Tom despite the doorbell rings and the fist knocking he was doing. The texts he sends his way also go unanswered, despite him being able to hear his cell pining with them from somewhere far off in the distance.
Normally, Santi would just turn around and leave, but this time, it was different. There was something clearly wrong with Tom, so throwing caution to the wind, he located the spare key above the doorframe (Tom had confessed to where it was a year ago) and letting himself in, Santi was confused by what he found.
It was clean. Not just clean - like showhome clean. Tom's laptop and paperwork had disappeared from the tiny kitchen, along with his favourite mug and all his jars of tea, booth bagged and loose leaf. Walking through the halls, he can pick out every single change that had occurred from Tom's coffee table being wiped down a shelf being fixed to the corkboard Tom used to plot things out on being taken down and lying against the wall instead of on it, making Santi's heartbeat hammer faster and faster in his chest to the point it might explode.
Where was Tom?
"Tom?" Santi called out, listening for a response and getting none. "Tom, are you here?"
Just as he's about to call out again, he hears a sound, wincing as he realizes it's the sound of someone dry heaving. However, it's followed up by another sound. A sob that not only tugs on his heartstrings, but gets his feet moving in its direction.
Weaving in and out of rooms, he follows the gagging and sobs from one part of the apartment to Tom's bedroom where he skirts around all the belongings sticking out of a suitcase on the floor (he can ask about that later) to charge towards the bathroom, forcing open the door despite himself. "Tom?"
Now, here they were. Santi at the door and Tom, hiding in a corner between the shower and the toilet, his bump now impossible to ignore and unable to be hidden by his arms, only framed as his chest heaves from being sick once again, the constant vomiting, hunger and illness having interfered with his packing from the moment he started several days ago.
Unable to help himself, Tom's eyes welled up with tears as he braced himself for Santi's reaction, the latter standing there in clear shock and disbelief.
At first, when flipping over, Santi was taken aback by the sight before him, his eyes not really believing the image in front of him of not only his friend being barely alive, but also heavily pregnant. It wasn't long however before confusion gave way to realization as he connected the dots, realizing the truth. Shocked and unsure of what to say, Santi approached Tom slowly, his heart aching for his friend's obvious distress more than anything.
He knew deep down it ached for other reasons, but he chose not to act on those right now as he reached out to touch Tom's arm and he flinched, breaking his heart more.
Tom hesitated at first, but then he took the hand before carefully leveraging Santi's arm to get himself up off the ground, his head spinning and making him stumble before Santi caught him, already dragging his feet. Holding his bulging stomach to try and counteract the churning and squirming within it, he lets Santi lead him to his bed and sit him down carefully before he opens up, shaking from not only the vomiting, but the fear.
"I was going to tell you. I was." He doesn't mean to make it sound desperate and he can't look at the latter as he speaks, but he's trying. "I just…couldn't. I didn't want to lose you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He waits, expecting anger or rejection or worse, but just as the room is shrinking in on him, his chest hyperventilating as he's barely able to breathe, Santi moves. Tom expects he's just getting up to leave, just walk out and never come back, but instead, he pulls Tom as gently and as delicately as he can into a tight hug, his lips against his ear. "We'll figure this out."
It's not a promise, but Tom hopes it is one and for the next couple of weeks, he takes it to heart. It's Santi who convinces Tom to come back to the office to try and work until he's unable and it's Santi who holds his hand as he informs Mat and the team. There's a lot of surprise on their part and some admonishing from both sides, but Tom's never felt so monitored in his life as he tries to make it through the day - people constantly checking up on him and the baby as his body grows bigger and his feelings for Santi grow as well.
It wasn't like there weren't feelings there already. They were like soup, however. Boling away in the background of Tom and barely needing checking on. Lately though, as his belly got heavier and his ability to keep up with office tasks dwindled more, Tom found himself relying more and more on Santi and he took up the responsibility like a duck to water.
Santi even let Tom come and stay in his house (as Tom had handed in his lease notice the day before Santi had come along) to the other's surprise, their belongings bending in with the uber amount of baby stuff either given to them, made for them or bought by them as the weeks slowly counted down to just mere days.
Then, it happened.
Tom had been away from the office for a while now, just too pregnant to really do anything, but had come in on a whim to help Amy draft up a Style theory. He'd been quite ill all morning, which concerned Santi to no end as they had tried to get on top of his vomiting with new medication given by the doctors and generally taking it easy - but other than his back throbbing, he was decently okay.
That all changed when they are settling back into Santi's car to go get lunch (Sonic seems to be this not-so-little one's firm favourite) and go home, Tom hissing as his back lights up again, the burning stab going right through him like a knife.
"You alright, T?" Tom cracks one glasses covered eye open to look at Santi as he sits in the driver's seat, hands already heading towards him. Dismissing them, he just pulls his seatbelt on. "I'm fine, Tigo. Just need to lie down."
"At this point, lying down is a relative term, T. With you these days, it's like vertical homosexual fast dancing." Santi jokes, using a paraphrased line from a video they'd watched a few days ago on the couch that makes Tom scowl at first, but it soon turns into a deep frown as he adjusts himself in his seat, more pain flooding his pelvis. "Gah…"
"Are you sure you're okay?" Santi's voice breaches his brain again and the slightly younger man sighs before reaching to grasp the older man's hand as he starts the car with his free one. It's a new development - neither man has questioned it yet, however. "I'm fine."
He thinks he is, or at least, he thinks he is until they are halfway back to the house when everything is very /not/ fine. They've just driven out of Sonic and Tom's got a hot dog in his mouth that he's savouring when a sudden pain runs through him again and he bites down a little too hard, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth from his teeth hitting his bottom lip.
While it's concerning and only stings a little, it's not what gets Tom's attention. Instead, his sweatpants suddenly being drenched does and a million alarm bells start screeching like the horns around them in the midday traffic as Tom turns to the driver. "Love?"
"Yeah, T?" Santi turns to him and raises an eyebrow at the terror he must see in his expression. "What's up?"
"How far away is the house?" The cool tone of his voice does him no favours with Santi, who seemingly starts to sweat as he answers. "About 30 minutes." "Oh." There's another long stretch of silence between them after that, before Santi asks "So, is that you asking for me to-"
"Please." Tom's voice is suddenly quiet and scared, like it was when he first saw Santi again those few months ago and it's thankfully all Santi needs to back out of the lane he's in and head to another one in the direction of UNC REX, holding his hand the whole way.
Hours later, Tom is practically thrashing as the monitors circling his belly (he and Santi made a joke about it being baby jail when he was far more lucid) make noise while a contraction rolls through him, his hand still having never left Santi's as the first flickers of night start to show outside. It's awful - this is awful and he thought the beginning was worse.
He can barely make out anything around him at this point, doctors and nurses becoming part of the dark haze around his vision as he whimpers, Santi somehow still a clear waypoint for him to search out despite it all. It almost feels like his pelvis is threatening to split in two.
"For lack of a better word, this hurts." Tom breathes raggedly, his hair dripping with sweat as he looks up to Santi with blurry eyes. "It really, really hurts."
He can see Santi waver a little, obviously just as stressed as he is, but his hand stays inside of the others despite it being slightly white from how hard he's gripping it, keeping it where it is on the bed due to the IV line snaking out from it. "You're doing really well though - just think of what Grandfather Mat's going to think when you parade his granddaughter around."
"You really think we're having a girl?" He manages through pants.
Santi just smiles at him, something in his eyes Tom can't read right now. "Well, until I'm notified otherwise, it's...just a theory."
"Oh god." Tom can't find it in himself to be mad at that somehow.
In the end, he doesn't know how long this went on for. Maybe years. Maybe just a few minutes. Maybe seconds and it was just so lightning fast that he's just not aware any of it happened at all.
Tom's tongue feels swollen and slightly bloody in his mouth, his throat is raw and his body is heavy. It will probably last forever, he'll never recover, he'll never get out of this-
Then it stops. Everything just stops. Then starts again. Tom can't hear anything except for the pounding of his heart and the most beautiful scream in the world.
Nothing matters - of course when he's relaunched into the world like one of Game Theory's merch drops, his body doesn't stop hurting, but it doesn't matter. Tom just can't give a shit about it, not right now. It's like things are moving a little bit in slow motion.
He chokes as his chest becomes tight, feeling Santi shaking at his side, hand still in his. The baby, their baby screams again, a loud wail, and he looks at this little being covered in blood and gunk and he falls in love harder and faster than he has ever loved in his life. That's saying a lot with Santi in the room.
(He also may have just fallen harder for Santio as well, but he wasn't going to admit that.)
He opens his arms without automatically thinking and suddenly has them full with this baby, their body against his and wrapped in a blanket and beanie over their dark hair (they have dark hair!) as their cries start to quiet in the room and Tom' awareness returns to full levels.
"Hi." He hears himself coo, voice thick with tears.
Their baby. They have a baby now. It's not just something they can forget anymore.
He can see out of the corner of his eye that Santi is offered some surgical scissors (is he crying?), and he snips the umbilical cord as the little one's chubby legs kick out with a wail of protest before they're whimpering again, much like Tom earlier, their eyes squinting to try and adjust to the new world they've been thrown into.
He can feel a kiss on his forehead and looks up to see Santi, practically beaming and eyes wet as he looks down at them.
"I love you so much." Santi whispers and the sound of him saying it curls around Tom's heart and stays there like ivy vines. "I love you, T. I - She's so amazing. I love her. I love her so much, I love you, oh my god Tom."
She. Her. Santi was right. He can get emotional over that fact later.
His daughter (their daughter!) cries out again, but while half of Tom is comforting her as people run circles around them, the other half reaches up, up, up and pulls Santi down to his level via his chin, eyelashes fluttering and head heavy as his body felt as the tiredness starts setting in. "We love you too, Tigo."
The level of relief in Santi's eyes says everything and despite Tom's vision still being blurry without his glasses, he finds Santi's lips quite easily and watches afterwards as those same lips kiss the top of their daughter's forehead, his smile possibly lighting up most of NC.
Nadene, as she becomes known much later, just scrunches her face before settling, content with the world as her fathers finally were.
It was a long road ahead of them, but right now, they were all together in one place, at one time and there was love in the room to be had. They had come in as two struggling best friends, just like they had been over the months, but they were leaving as something more.
A family.
