Learning to Fall.

Ryan lifted Oliver from the carseat, where he was sleeping, tucking the baby into his chest and rubbing his back, trying to keep him from waking up. Pete was waiting at the door, holding it open for the pair of them, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, pressing his lips to Ryan's cheek in a sloppy but sweet kiss. "I'll get the bags a little later," he said softly, waiting a moment before following Ryan and baby up the stairs.

Brendon was sitting on the kitchen counter when the three of them walked in. Patrick was getting something out of the fridge and Spencer had just walked into the room with his laptop. The six of them all seemed to stop and look at each other in slow motion, most eyes being directed at the bundle in Ryan's arms. "Is he sleeping?" Brendon asked, slipping from the counter to quietly walk over and stand behind Ryan's shoulder.

The boy nodded tiredly. "Yeah. He fell asleep about an hour before we hit L.A." His amber eyes drifted to Patrick and then flicked back to Brendon. "Do you want to hold him?" he asked quietly. Brendon nodded solemnly, letting Ryan lay the infant in his arms, looking more comfortable with the situation than Ryan had a few days ago in the hospital bed.

Pete moved in closer to Brendon, monitoring the boy with his son as Ryan moved into the kitchen for a moment, where Patrick was still standing. "Hey," he mumbled, a slight blush creeping up into his cheeks. "I, um . . . I'm sorry about--"

"Forget about it," Patrick said with a dismissive wave of his hand and a soft smile. "You could have told me you were going though. I would have come with."

"Spencer took good care of me," Ryan said with a small nod at the other boy. "Come on." He grabbed Patrick's hand, tugging him into the entryway where Brendon was still holding Oliver. "Come meet the baby."

Brendon wordlessly handed the infant over to Patrick, who looked slightly less at ease, but still knew how to properly hold the child. Oliver's eyes opened and closed, displaying brown irises. Ryan immediately tensed, nudging Pete with his elbow. "Bottle, please?" he asked, eyes pleading, hoping they could stop the cries before they started.

His husband immediately moved toward the kitchen, pulling a bottle from the diaper bag as he moved. "How much did he weigh?" Patrick asked Ryan.

"Six pounds, two ounces." Oliver started to cry and Ryan immediately reclaimed the baby, pressing the screaming face into his chest, one hand stroking the down-like hair on the newborn's scalp. "Shh, shh. It's okay. Daddy's making a bottle," he cooed. "We'll feed you in a second. It'll be fine."

Spencer hid a smile behind his hand, exchanging a knowing look with Brendon that was only noticed by Patrick. Pete returned with the bottle, holding it out to Ryan, who immediately switched the baby into a lying position, popping the bottle in his mouth. The crying stopped and all five men immediately turned into puddles of goo, leaning over to watch the baby drinking, awwing at the sight.

"And look at those tiny fingernails," Brendon said. "God, babies are, like, cute enough to eat."

Ryan took a step backward, a frown on his face, and everyone laughed.

"Come on," Patrick said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. "I'll show you the nursery."

"No, we will show him," Brendon interrupted, rushing to walk beside Patrick. "Considering you made me work like a contractor and didn't even pay me. He made me paint, Ryan," he said in scandalized tones, glancing over his shoulder to look at the boy.

Pete was walking next to his husband, an arm around Ryan's shoulders, both of them watching their son drinking from the bottle. The nursery was light green with a beautiful wooden crib and a changing table. The old bed in the room was gone, but the dresser and television remained. "I didn't know where you wanted that," Patrick explained. "The bed's in the basement for now."

Ryan walked around the room, slowly looking at the walls. There was a picture of the three of them that had been taken in Ryan's hospital bed with Spencer's camera that was now framed and hanging over the crib. The other frames were drawings and images of Disney characters.

"You can switch that picture out for a real one," Patrick told Pete in an undertone. "I just thought it might, you know."

Pete just turned wordlessly, his face falling into his best friend's shoulder and arms coming up around to give him a loose hug. "It's perfect, 'Trick," he breathed. "You're a miracle worker."

"I helped!" Brendon chimed in, sounding incredibly put out.

Spencer punched him in the arm. "If your bottom lip sticks out any further, it's going to catch on something."

The room was filled with laughter and Ryan stepped away from the walls to let Spencer take the baby, finish giving Oliver the bottle. Pete held out his hand and Ryan took it, giving a single squeeze and smiling at Patrick in gratitude for what he'd accomplished. "Thank you," he said, voice sounding constricted. "I mean, just, all of you for . . . being here."

"Dude, that's what family's for," Brendon said brightly, looking down at the baby in the drummer's arms. "By the way, I have dibs on godfather."

"Over my dead body," Spencer snapped.

Pete laughed, pulling Ryan closer and then pulling him down for a kiss. They were home.