Chapter Text
The hospital waiting room is quiet except for the tap, tap, tap of JJ’s fingers on the arm of the couch. Across from him, Cleo has Pope’s head tucked into her shoulder as she hums quietly; it might be the softest he’s ever seen her. She smiles when she catches his eye, her cheeks going a rosy brown that makes him grin. Pope’s asleep, snoring softly, and Kiara mumbles a quiet, “This couch is so uncomfortable,” as she snuggles her cheek against JJ’s thigh.
He scratches his nails across her scalp until her eyes flutter shut again. He eyes the clock on the wall – seven hours – and groans, “Shit, dude, how long does it take to pop out a baby?”
Across the waiting room, a woman – with two toddlers asleep in her lap – scoffs and rolls her eyes.
JJ flinches. Shoots her an apologetic look after spotting the size of her kids’ heads. And then sinks a little lower into his seat as he avoids her eyes.
Kiara snorts and peeks one eye at him, “Smooth, Maybank. Real smooth.”
He wraps one of her curls around his finger, tugs it, then lets it bounce back into place.
Beneath her head, his leg starts to bounce anxiously until she squeezes it and murmurs, “Braid my hair for me?”
JJ chews his lip, “Big or little?”
Kie sits up with a yawn. She rubs her knuckles into her eyes and turns away from him, so her body rests lazily against him as she shrugs, “Surprise me.”
JJ digs through Kiara’s bag until he finds a bobby pin, straightens it out, and then uses the tip of it to part her hair down the middle.
He’s just finished the second braid when there’s a squeak from down the hall like rubber on linoleum. His head shoots up, followed quickly by Kiara’s and Cleo’s. Pope is last, his dark eyes blinking rapidly as he follows everyone’s gaze to where John B is skidding – and slipping – to a stop in front of them.
His hair stands up at every angle, the curls wild and messy the way they are after a full night of partying at The Boneyard, but his smile – though sleepy – is the brightest thing JJ has ever seen in his entire life. Teary-eyed, with a wrinkled shirt, mussed hair, and eyelids that look ready to close – John B has never looked happier.
Looking between his friends slowly, John B’s eyes eventually settle on JJ. They stare at each other – something passing between them, something JJ can feel right in the center of his chest – and then John opens his mouth and practically sobs the words, “We have a daughter.”
“Ahhhh!” Kiara steps on JJ’s foot as she lunges off the couch. She makes it to John B first, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hugging him hard.
Pope is next, his arms around them both as he breathes, “Holy shit, JB. You’re a frickin’ dad!”
Then Cleo, more reserved than the others, gives John B’s shoulder a rub before he extends his hand to pull her into the group hug. She mutters something JJ can’t hear and earns a teary, “I know, I know!” from John B.
JJ hangs back a bit as John B gives out all the stats – weight and height. The others keep tugging him into hugs or ruffling his hair; Kiara bounces on her toes, Cleo squeezes his wrist, and Pope keeps asking all the technical questions John B has already forgotten the answers to.
“So?” Kiara looks ready to burst. She tugs on John B’s hand and glances anxiously down the hall, “Can we meet her?”
John B grins, then peeks past Kiara at JJ. He’s scuffing his boot against the tile floor, teeth digging into his cheek, and John B softens.
He doesn’t have to say a word. The others back off – though Kiara and Pope both look ready to make a run for Sarah’s room – and John B walks over to sling his arm around JJ’s shoulders. The blonde relaxes immediately, leaning into him. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around John B’s back and fists his hand into the back of his shirt.
They lock eyes, watery blue and hazel studying each other, and JJ wonders if John B is having the same thought he is. That JJ almost missed this. That in some alternate reality, John B could be doing this without him.
It’s been racing through JJ’s mind from the moment Cleo came running down the dock with wide eyes and shouted “The Poguelette’s coming! The Poguelette’s coming!”
It’s why – when everyone else napped, grabbed snacks, and told stories to stay awake – JJ sat rigid in that waiting room chair.
He counted the ceiling tiles. Then the floor tiles. The chairs. The amount of people who came and went in that seven hours.
He stared at the landscape paintings of places he was pretty sure didn’t exist and flowers that looked fake, played with Kiara’s hair, tapped his foot against Pope’s, and shook his head when Cleo asked if he wanted to play cards. And every time he closed his eyes for more than a second at a time, he saw this room differently.
He saw Kiara, knees pulling up to her chest as she sat alone. Cleo rubbing her hand up and down Pope’s back. Pope’s jaw clenching as he tried to hold himself together. And John B, walking into the room with a smile that’s half-happiness and half-heartbreak as he stared at the empty chair next to Kie and said softly, “We have a daughter.”
“I can’t believe you have a daughter, Bree,” JJ’s voice comes out raspier than he expects. It cracks a little on the word ‘daughter’ and his lips quirk up when John B catches it and grins at him.
JJ opens his mouth to say more, but all that comes out is a bubble of wet laughter before he tugs John B in. Their arms lock around each other so hard it almost hurts. Then, they lock even harder, both of them laughing and crying as John B mumbles, “Fuck, J, I’m a dad.”
“Hell yeah, you are,” JJ laughs. He sinks his hand into John B’s messy-as-fuck hair, then pulls him back enough to press a smacking kiss to both his cheeks, “Now, stop stalling and take me to meet my goddaughter.”
The room is quiet when they enter – and despite the Pogues’ natural inclination toward noise – they do make an attempt to keep it that way. At least until JJ bumps his elbow into a rolling table and knocks over plastic jar of tongue depressors. The little wooden sticks scatter across the floor as Sarah startles awake on the bed.
Every eye glares at JJ as he howls and rubs his elbow, “Shit, that hurt.”
Sarah glares hardest and mutters, “Try pushing a bowling ball out of you and we’ll talk.”
The annoyance doesn’t stick though – and honestly, despite how sweaty she is and how tired she looks – Sarah is glowing with happiness.
“Can’t we ever go somewhere without you making a mess?” Pope mutters to JJ as they both drop down to clean up the floor.
“You know the answer to that, bro,” JJ grins as he quickly shoves the sticks back into the jar.
Kiara steps right over him, though she does stroke his hair as she passes, and strokes Sarah’s hair, “How are you feeling, mama?”
“Hi there, mama. Are you finally ready to officially meet your son?”
JJ’s head shoots up so quickly he smacks it on the underside of that same rolling table. John B winces at him as he quickly rolls the table away, but JJ doesn’t really feel it.
“I’m exhausted,” Sarah rasps. She doesn’t even have to ask before John B is bringing over some ice chips for her to suck on. They’ve mostly melted by now, but she finds a few big ones and sighs, “But God, I didn’t know I could feel like this, Kie.”
“I-I didn’t know. I didn’t know I could feel like this.”
Tears prick in JJ’s eyes. The jar rocks a little in his hand. Pope’s eyes follow the movement until JJ quickly gets it back up on the table. He shoves his shaking hands into his pockets and avoids Pope’s eyes.
Cleo brushes a kiss against Sarah’s cheek before glancing at the empty bassinet on the other side of the room, “Where is little miss Routledge anyway?”
“They’re cleaning her up,” John B says as he presses a kiss against the top of Sarah’s head.
She leans into him, closes her eyes, and looks so at peace when she breathes, “Just wait until you see her. She’s perfect. She’s got these tiny hands with the sweetest little fingernails. She stole John B’s whole face,” John B goes a pleasant pink at that as he ducks his head into Sarah’s hair. “She’s beautiful.”
“He’s perfect. His little fingers, his little nose. He’s so, so beautiful.”
JJ’s vision goes a little blurry, a little out of focus, and he doesn’t realize his eyes are full of tears until Kiara scratches his spine gently and whispers, “Are you okay, baby?”
He blinks hard – on the bed, the blurry image of Larissa flashes right back into a solid, smiling Sarah – and clears his throat with a quick nod, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
He brushes his lips over hers, then quickly glances up when the door opens. Five pairs of eyes shoot straight to the little bundle in the nurse’s arms. But JJ’s eyes are on John B.
He watches the change in his best friend, the way – right in front of their eyes – he transforms from a boy into a man as his daughter is placed in his arms. The sight knocks the wind right out of JJ. He stumbles back a half-step, stopped from colliding into the table again only by Kiara’s hand on his back.
JJ’s breath catches in his throat. Because if he lets himself, he can still see the little boy John B had been. Wide hazel eyes, bright smile, freckles. He’d been bad at buttoning his shirts even then, leaving gaps or extra inches on one side. Shoes a little too big, backpack a little too used, hair a little too unbrushed. But happy. Bright. Friendly in a way no one else has ever been.
“Hey there, my little pelican,” John B whispers – and all at once, he transforms right back into a man even as the remnants of Big John’s ‘Hey there, Bird,’ linger in his mind. He brushes his finger over his daughter’s cheek and whispers, “There are some people here who really want to meet you. You want to open those pretty eyes for me and meet your Uncle JJ?”
JJ freezes. His eyes widen. And immediately he shakes his head. Gestures to Kie, then Pope, then Cleo with a rushed, “Oh, I- I mean, they should…”
John B comes closer, and JJ’s eyes go wide as Kiara gently pushes him into the armchair in the corner. His breathing picks up. His heart rate too. And he blurts, “She’s too small. I’ll break her.”
But Kiara’s smile is gentle as she helps position his arms. She brushes the hair from his forehead and presses a kiss there, “She’ll be okay, Jayj. Just breathe.”
He hears Luke – it’s been months since the last time – his voice rough and mean as he hisses, “Always fucking breaking shit.”
JJ eyes John B – wonders if he should remind him of everything he ever broke at the Chateau over the years – but John B is already looking back. There’s no hesitation. No fear.
“Piece of shit.”
John B leans down; he’s holding his daughter like an old pro, like this isn’t the first time in his entire life that he’s held a baby before.
“Okay, God-Papa J,” John B meets JJ’s worried gaze and smiles with those same wet, hazel eyes shining. “You ready to meet your goddaughter?”
JJ feels a lump in his throat – he hasn’t looked at her yet, he can’t – but he nods his head and breathes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”
“Worthle-”
The world goes silent as John B places the small bundle in his arms. Luke’s voice disappears. So does the room. It’s just JJ. And her.
She’s tiny. Warm. Smells like baby powder. And her hazel eyes are wide open and looking right at him.
JJ’s whole world refocuses, swirls and shifts around the tiny, weightless bundle in his arms as he breathes, “Hi there, beautiful, beautiful girl.”
He moves slowly, one hand gently brushing over her dark curls. He sniffs, turns his head to wipe his cheek on his shoulder, and laughs quietly, “Shit, JB, she looks just like you.”
His bottom lip shakes as the tip of his finger brushes down the slope of her tiny nose. She suckles in the direction of his finger, and he wonders how the hell anyone can ever look at a baby so perfect and choose to hurt them. How Luke could hold JJ at eight months and hit him for the first time at the age of four. How Groff could ever see his newborn son in the arms of his wife and choose to kill them both.
Bowing his head, JJ brushes a kiss against her – John B’s – curls and whispers, “I’ll protect you, I promise.”
“JJ,” he looks up, startled to see that everyone looks a little blurry. Startled, too, to realize how badly his eyes are burning.
John B stands to the left of the armchair, his eyes swimming as he grins down at his best friend. No, grin doesn’t do it justice. He’s beaming. Exuding pride and love and pure happiness from the smile he has aimed at his daughter and brother.
JJ feels pride too.
Pride for the man John B has become. Pride for the friend he’s been. The brother. Pride for the choices he’s made and keeps making. Pride – mostly, in this moment – for the father he knows his best friend is going to be. For the father he already is.
Cleo and Pope stand by the bed, their eager eyes on the tiny bundle in JJ’s arms. He’s hogging her, he knows it, but he kept help but hold her a little closer; he’s not done yet.
Kiara is sitting on the edge of Sarah’s bed, her fingers gently braiding her long hair to keep it out of her face.
And Sarah is looking right at him.
He looks back, realizes too late that she’s the one who said his name, and smiles awkwardly when it hits him that he hasn’t said a single word to her since entering her room. He’d been in his own head, but still, he squints at her sheepishly, “Hey, baby mama.”
John B looks as unimpressed as Kiara does.
Sarah just snorts and rolls her eyes. They grin at each other even when John B says, “…dude.”
Then Sarah nods, “So, what do you think, JJ? Think we should keep her?”
JJ grins and leans his cheek onto the soft curls, “Nah, I’m taking her home with me. You guys are gonna have to make another one.”
“You wanna steal her,” John B says slowly as he shifts his eyes toward his wife, “but you haven’t even asked her name yet.”
“Oh God, what monstrosity did you two come up with?” JJ mutters playfully. A tiny hand smacks his cheek, and JJ’s attention is immediately stolen again.
He misses the way Sarah and John B look at each other, the way Kiara bites her lip, the way Sarah nods at John B to do the honors.
John B kneels down next to the armchair. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over his daughter’s hair, then tilts his head up to meet JJ’s eyes.
“Bubba, I want you to meet my-” he glances at Sarah and corrects himself immediately at her raised brow, “our daughter. Jade Jackson Routledge.”
JJ’s eyes go wide.
He looks from John B to Sarah to Jade Jackson Routledge… to JJ Routledge.
His lips tremble. Then his eyes fill. Because when he looks back at John B – waiting for the joke, the punchline – his brother’s soft smile is already waiting for him with a nod.
His throat constricts, voice cracking as he whispers, “Jackson?”
He wipes his eyes before a tear can fall onto her sweet little face and breathes, “You named her JJ?”
“Number one rule, man,” John B whispers. He leans up and wraps his hand around the back of JJ’s neck. He presses their foreheads together, brown curls mixing with blonde bangs, and whispers, “First baby in the family gets named after my favorite person in the world.”
“Second favorite now,” JJ corrects with a teary sort of laugh.
“I mean, I only gave birth to his child,” Sarah mutters to Kiara.
She winks when JJ glances at her and breathes, “She wouldn’t be here without her Uncle JJ.”
“Without her godfather,” John B adds softly. He presses their foreheads a little harder, both boys squeezing their eyes tight.
In JJ’s arms, Jade wiggles, her hand lifting to smack at both their chins. When they pull back from each other, they’re both openly crying, though their lips are pulled tight in the widest smiles.
“Hey there, little J,” JJ whispers now. Jade’s eyes track his face as JJ presses his finger into her palm. He softens, wiggling his finger so she’ll hold on tighter.
JJ doesn’t know how long he sits there – how long his friends let him sit there – until Pope huffs out a frustrated, “Okay, this is getting excessive. Someone hand me my niece right now or I’m crashing out.”
JJ eyes Pope, then the chair he’s in, then the baby, before his eyes finally land on John B, “Yeah, man, I actually have no idea how to get out of this chair without dropping her, so…”
John B snorts as he leans down and scoops his daughter out of JJ’s arms. It’s not until he’s looking between Kiara and Pope – Kiara looks nervous as hell about holding her – that he spots JJ’s pout. It’s small, barely there, but he looks genuinely sad now that his arms are empty.
Smiling even wider now, John B helps settle Jade into Pope’s arms. In no time at all, Pope – Mr. Encyclopedia himself – goes full baby whisperer, “Hi there, Jade, I’m your Uncle Pope. I’ll be the one helping with your homework and making sure you graduate. With a real diploma and everything. That’s right,” he coos, “we’re going to get so many good grades, aren’t we? Yes, we are.”
“God, you’re a dork,” Kiara laughs as she slips off Sarah’s bed.
She wiggles herself into the armchair with JJ and presses a kiss to his cheek with a mumbled, “You better not be getting any ideas that you’re getting seconds with Jacky-”
“We are not nicknaming my baby Jacky,” Sarah scoffs as she shoots a glare at John. “I told you this would happen!”
“-before I get a chance to even hold her once,” Kiara finishes as if Sarah hadn’t said a word.
She kisses his jaw, then his ear, and whispers, “Or ideas about anything else either. Not yet.”
JJ grins as he pulls back, lets his eyes slowly roam Kiara’s face, and whispers, “Just not yet?”
Her face softens as she strokes her fingers through his hair, and quietly, she confirms, “Just not yet.”
Jade makes her rounds with everyone twice.
And JJ can’t help the way he holds his breath when he spots her in Kie’s arms. The way his heart races. The way his stomach churns pleasantly. The way he wants.
Eventually.
Just not yet.
When they’re finally being shooed from the room, JJ lingers a little longer. The night nurse eyes him like she thinks he’s up to no good.
But JJ just pulls John B into a hug. It’s hard – at first – one of those rough hugs they pull each other into sometimes when they need a reminder that they’re here, that they’re alive, that they made it. It softens though, goes tender. Hands clinging to the material of each other’s shirts as they breathe into each other’s hair, against each other’s cheeks.
“I love you, man,” JJ whispers. He presses a kiss to the side of John B’s head, lets his lips linger there, and breathes, “Fuck, I’m so proud of you, Bree.”
John B clings harder. He presses the sides of their heads together, like they can transfer love through touch, and breathes, “I love you too, J. Brothers for life, right?”
JJ feels his eyes prick again as he nods. He smiles though, presses his next kiss into John B’s shoulder before pulling back to grip his shoulders hard.
They lock eyes, and JJ whispers, “And I love her. I promise you, John B, whatever happens, wherever we all end up… I’ve got her. For life.”
Blue and hazel do a soft sort of dance before John B nods, his mouth trembling with words he can’t say. He sniffs, then tugs JJ back in with a shit, “For life.”