CREDIT: @arianwen44â apparently did another commission for Sarah and I am dying I cannot handle how many images we have of Jazz and Devin and especially not any of them from the parenting!AU.Â
The one of Many Parts that I have written for the Parenting!AU:
Jazz lifted his head from his prayer-folded hands and sniffed. Heâd been dragged out of the delivery room, his ears filled with frantic, desperate shouts. Jessica had gone pale, her eyes unfocused and her grip worryingly lax.
Devinâs arm was around him now, a familiar and much appreciated, if almost unwanted, weight. And now a man stood before them -- the same one that had warned them against sneaking food in for Jessica, his facial features so obviously controlled.
âHow is she?â he asked, his voice roughened with lack of sleep and panic and dread. He recited another Hail Mary in his head in the time it took for the doctorâs expression to shift, subtly.
âYour daughter has been taken to the NICU -- but she appears to be perfectly fine. Weâre setting up a suite for the two of you, and once weâre done weâll bring you both there so the nurses can show you how to feed her.â
âJessica said she wanted to breastfeed,â Jazz said, his jaw tightening. âItâs better for the baby.â
The doctor licked his lips and maintained eye contact, folding his hands in front of him and dipping his head. Devin stiffened beside him, his arm tightening around Jazzâs body.
âI regret to inform you thatâŚâ
The rest of his words didnât register, but the words came all the same. Jazz blinked once, then twice, the garbled end of that sentence still hitting their mark. And then the doctor continued to talk -- something about support groups and how Jazz could probably locate a milk bank, if he was insistent on following Jessicaâs wishes.
Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. Jazz licked his own lips and swallowed, hard, nodding as the doctor stepped off. Jessica didnât have family. She didnât have a steady girlfriend. She had the girls at the âQueen and Jazz, and that was it, as far as he knew.
Devin pulled him close, cradling Jazzâs head to his shoulder and threading his fingers through the hair at the back of Jazzâs neck. Jazz closed his eyes and breathed in deep, Devinâs scent and the drift of Devinâs fingers in his hair doing nothing to settle the ache forming in his chest.
He couldnât bring himself to say anything, and Devin didnât speak either, as they held each other. Jazz felt like he should cry. He wanted to cry. But instead, he found himself sagging against his boyfriend. He didnât even have the crib set up yet -- not the one at their house, anyway. Heâd set up Jessicaâs for her, but theirs --
âCan go home and set up the crib, cutie,â Devin offered, his voice quiet. âCan set everything up as best I can while you stay here --â
Jazz blinked, lifting his head and furrowing his brow. Had he been saying all of that out loud? Frowning, Jazz shook his head and buried his face in the crook of Devinâs neck. âI want you here,â he said. He paused, and then -- âThereâs a lot we havenât done yet for the house, if weâre even --â
There had been mention of putting the baby up for adoption. He and Jessica werenât married, so he wasnât legally obligated to the child. The birth certificate hadnât been written up yet. They could leave his name off it and that was it, he could walk away and never see his daughter, his angel, and --
âFucking keeping her, arenât we?â Devin grumbled, kissing the top of Jazzâs head. âCan ask Wes to put the crib together for us, if you want⌠Sure heâll be all over this.â
Jazz let out a breath that could almost be called a laugh. âOkay,â he said. He nodded again, more to himself than anything as he swallowed hard. âOkay. Yes. Weâre keeping her. Yes. Okay.â
Devin chuckled, his thin frame rumbling with it. âBreathe, cutie,â he whispered, kissing Jazzâs forehead. They held each other for a few more moments, Jazzâs face buried against Devinâs neck as they both breathed in and out together, Jazzâs breathing erratic at first as panic and grief threatened to overwhelm him, until he was matching breaths with Devin as best as he could.
At some point, someone cleared their throat. âMr. Callahan, the room is ready for you and baby Callahan. Are you ready to meet your daughter?â
Jazz sniffed and looked up at the woman. Her expression was soft, and her eyes didnât once flit to Devin nor how his arms were still wrapped around Jazz protectively. He then glanced at Devin. âCome with me?â he croaked, offering Devin a watery smile.
Devin blinked, then gave a slight, jerky nod of his head. He stood up slowly, pulling Jazz to his feet with him. ââCourse, cutie,â he murmured, keeping an arm around Jazzâs waist.
âFollow me then, you two,â the nurse said, turning on her heel and guiding the two of them through the halls of labor and delivery. Jazzâs stomach twisted in his throat, but he kept his focus on the sensation of Devin pressed close to him.
It was a room with a singular bed, devoid of almost any medical equipment. There was a bassinet beside the bed, another nurse standing beside it, and Jazz covered his face with his hands as the bundle inside it moved, a quiet cry escaping it.
His daughter. His daughter, wrapped tightly in a small blanket. Jazz found himself stopping dead in his tracks, tears filling his eyes. He moved one hand to his chest and clutched at his heart as he thought of Jessica -- Jessica, who would never see their angel --
âCan I hold her?â he squeaked, the words leaving him in a rush. The nurses chuckled and he felt Devin laugh more than he heard him, causing blood to rush to his ears. âOf course,â the first nurse said, gently guiding Jazz away from Devin and toward the bassinet. âBe mindful of her head,â she said, picking his daughter up and slowly easing her into Jazzâs waiting arms. âDo you have a name for her yet?â
Sleepy dark blue eyes stared up at him, and Jazz noticed the tiny curls coating the top of her head. Her hair was brown, like Devinâs. His heart pounded in his chest as he drifted a finger over her cheek, his breath caught in his throat as she turned to it. âShe really is an angel,â he whispered, glancing up at Devin, who had moved to stand beside Jazz.
Devin placed a light hand on Jazzâs back, giving him a soft smile in return. âThink thatâs her name, cutie.â
Jazz furrowed his brow, a slight frown tugging on his lips. âWhat? Angel? Devin, thatâs --â He glanced down at the cooing newborn in his arms and felt the smile stretch across his lips. He turned to Devin again, standing on his toes to press a kiss to Devinâs cheek. âThatâs perfect, sweetheart, thank you.â