“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can kid.”

“Dad… I…”

“I’ll be there son.”

“I just… I can’t…”

“She needs you to.  Come on, it’s time.”

~*~*~

For months they had pictured how it would be- her own imaginings sunshine excitement next to his mostly silent dread.  Mostly silent, save when either Gus or his father was nearby.  But not in front of her- never in front of her.  And really, why was it such a scary thing?  It was an easy enough- and extremely pleasurable beginning after all.  And they’d both talked of how this was a natural and wanted next step. 

God, what had he been drinking to ever pull that from his lips?

But he DID want it- right? 

“Kid, it’s a bit late to ask that question.”  Of course, leave it to dad to remind him such thoughts were no longer philosophical.  Jerk.

Shawn cursed when the easy-to-assemble instructions laid out before him failed to warn for possible damage that could be incurred by a slipping screwdriver; both wood and flesh parting beneath the blunt head- the latter cutting deeper and leaking to boot.

“Mother!”  He sucked briefly at his palm, his shout drawing attention that he hadn’t meant to attract.

“Yes?”

Pulling the wounded appendage from his mouth, he whipped his hand behind his back before looking up.  “Jules, hey…”  And words dried up again- a still frequent occurrence at the sight of the young woman in her current condition.

Wow… I did that… ran through his brain at the sight of her belly rounded out before her.  Not always, but there were times, like now when she was clothed in the thinnest, sexiest maternity dress, that the sight of her pregnancy left him breathless.  And oddly turned on.  Okay, a lot turned on.  Alright, she could be recently returned from filming the World’s Deadliest Catch- covered in seaweed and fish guts and he’d still want to throw her to the bed and get kinky.  Or maybe in the shower.  But the fact remained that knowing her altered figure was because of one specific afternoon when she’d stopped by the office over her lunch break, and instead of eating Chinese take-out they’d…

“You okay?”

Right- stop staring at the woman’s navel.

“Just fine Sugarbeet!”

Her stern glare was well on its way to evolving into an open handed slap if he didn’t cut the overly poofy nickname crap.  He’d been warned of that several times previously.  In fact, she’d once pinched his knuckle till the skin bruised when he’d called her Rose-Muffin McSexy-Pants.  Of course, they’d been studying a crime scene at the time…

“Let me see.”  She stepped into the room- still not too big that she couldn’t move gracefully.  Give it a few more months, however, and that would no longer be the case. 

Shawn briefly considered denying the injury- but truthfully, he was hoping this could lead to some sympathy nookie- so he held out his hand.  He frowned at the wound when it came into view.  Damn- he should have let it bleed a little more.  Placing one hand on his shoulder for balance, Juliet eased down beside him. 

“Hm… just a scratch.  I’ll grab a Band-Aid from the bathroom.”  Before she could stand back up, however, he grabbed her fingers. 

“Hang on- tell me what you think so far.”

She rested back to her knees, head tilting as she took in the project that had been defying him for the past four hours.  Pursed lips, a small nod, and she met his eyes.  “Are you sure you don’t want to ask your father for help?”

He chewed his lower lip as he slowly turned her way.  “You know, I don’t think I should answer that considering there’s a child nearby.”

She snorted as she finally wrestled upright again with a helpful push from the man still sitting amongst the ruin of his construction efforts.

“Oh, so it’s just one child now?  That’s a relief.”

Crawling up as well, Shawn brushed pale blue carpet fibers from his jeans.  “Of course it’s just one…” his face slacked, eyes jumping to Juliet’s in sudden anxiety.  “Just one, right?”

The eye roll was followed by the turn of her body back towards the hallway.  “Shawn, last week you were telling everyone at the precinct that we were having puppies.”

Grinning widely to mask the scary shiver her teasing had generated, Shawn tossed the screwdriver he’d been clutching to the carpet- the tool bouncing once across a wooden rail.  “Well you are getting kinda bi… so what time did you tell everyone we were eating?”  Changing topic rapidly mid-sentence had assuredly added years to his life.

Eyeing him sternly for a few seconds, Juliet finally walked back to the kitchen, Shawn following closely with his hands slightly extended.  Just in case.

“Dinner is at six, but guests are invited to be here around five thirty.  I asked your father and Gus to come about an hour earlier because they’re helping out.” 

Shawn nodded.  “Did you tell dad not to forget my box?”

Smiling as she made for the stove and the source of all the yummy smells, Juliet turned down the heat on one of the boiling pots.  “Yes, I reminded him.”  She said in a tone that was somewhat long-suffering, yet also amused.  She knew how important this was to him.  “I also asked him to bring his toolkit.”

“Jules!”

Turning towards him, she rubbed her hands up and down his biceps.  “Shawn, I love you.  But if I let you build that all on your own, our child won’t have a crib until he’s eighteen.”

Barely mollified, Shawn turned his face to the side and crossed his arms.  “Good, then he can help me finish it.” 

He continued to glower until Juliet leaned in and kissed his cheek.  “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”  She whispered- her soft tone banishing the very brief upset.  One eyebrow rising, he reached as far around her as he was able and pressed his forehead against hers.

“How cute am I?”  One hand slid down to squeeze her backside.

“Shawn, your dad will be walking through that door in twenty minutes.”  Her hand reached around to place his grabby fingers back on her hip.

“Plenty of time.”  He said heatedly- his other palm sneaking down for a handful.

Juliet let him harass her for a few more seconds as she chuckled lightly.  “Maybe for you.”  She muttered against his cheek.

Now both his hands were roaming again, tugging at her skirt methodically.  “And your point is?”

Pink fingernail jabbed his chest.

“Ow!” 

“Oh-ho!  Not in this lifetime!”  She admonished with a sharp laugh.  “Now scat, the last thing I need is you feeling me up when I’m trying to baste.”

Shawn dropped his arms with a sigh.  “You know, that…”

“Sounds dirty- I know.  Shawn, talking about taxes sounds dirty to you.”

He shrugged as he watched her move around the small kitchen.  “You were the one that brought ‘early withdrawal penalty’ into the conversation.” 

A rap of knuckles on the front door saved him from further physical abuse, and he easily dodged the slap as he bounded to greet the first guest.

~*~*~

His hands shook.  He’d known it would be hard, but this…  Without his dad beside him he was pretty certain he’d have never have managed it.

Juliet was on the other side of that door.

He’d wanted to stay with her before, and he hadn’t been allowed.  Now he was struggling to maintain enough strength to go back inside.

“I can’t…” he whispered, trying to back away.

His father’s arm curled around his shoulders.

“You can.  You need to.”

~*~*~

He knew this was a bad idea.  He was going to have a serious chat with Juliet about this once he went back downstairs.

“God- Shawn!  Kid, you’re doing it all wrong.  Did you even read the directions?”

He wouldn’t argue.  He’d promised Jules.  He could build one damn crib with his father, listen to endless corrections and advice, and keep his cool. 

“What are you doing?  You can’t connect the front panel until you’ve attached the sides to the base!”

He’d promised Jules, he’d promised Jules…

Rather than speak, he grabbed the headboard and carried it to the structure gradually forming under his father’s hands.  Silently holding it in place while the older man attached the rails, he only grunted as he was instructed to fetch various tools or pieces.  But he couldn’t help his frustration leaking out.  This was his project, not his father’s.

“Do you really need me here, or can I go help Jules in the kitchen?”

Shifting stiff knees on the carpet, Henry sat back on his heels and stared up at his son.  “What are you talking about?  I’m not building this for you kid.  The only reason I’m here is because Juliet asked me to give you a hand.”

“Give me a hand?  Dad, this is more like a hostile takeover!”  Thumbs jammed in his pockets, he sucked in a breath before he could expound on the Darth Vader Luke Skywalker comparison brewing in the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, his aggravation hadn’t abated just because he’d closed his mouth.  Slumping against the wall, he scratched his elbow and prodded a toe against the blue and yellow bear print mattress at his feet.

Meanwhile his father finished tightening the bolts holding the main bed frame together.  Then, resting his palms on his thighs, he looked up at his son.

“So, are you going to keep kicking the bed, or do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

Crossing his arms, Shawn ran his tongue along his molars.  Then, leaning down a little, he rubbed his thumb on the patch of wallpaper than kept coming loose no matter how many times he’d fixed it.

“I thought I did.”  He finally replied, giving up on the stubborn wall treatment for the moment. 

His dad continued to study him. 

Blowing a shaky breath, the younger man ran his fingertips across his lips.  Down the hall, he could hear the faint sound of Gus and Juliet getting dinner ready.  Actually, Juliet was getting dinner ready while Gus was most likely setting the table.  In about ten minutes, his father would be joining them to prepare the potatoes and slice the ham.  If he wanted, Shawn could just wait him out and they wouldn’t need to have this talk at all.  Like he’d wanted to do for the wedding talk.  Oh God the wedding talk.  No conversation, save a deeply humiliating lecture about the birds and the bees and a budding sex drive could have possibly been more uncomfortable.  And there was no real reason for this anyhow.  It was stupid- and no doubt his father would be quick to point that out… again. 

“You’re scared.  Aren’t you.”

Shawn looked up quickly.  “I am not!”  But his father only nodded.  And dammit- he was right.  He was scared.  No- he was terrified.

“I just…” He tucked his thumbs in his pockets.  “What if… what if I don’t…”  Shit.  This was crashing and burning too fast to even gather his thoughts.  He knew there was a reason he hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. 

He looked up at the pebbled ceiling above.  Why couldn’t his father play fair and go along with his fight picking earlier? 

“How can I be a father?”  He finally asked- eyes meeting the older man, pleading quietly for this not to become a platform for a lesson in biology.  But as much as Henry could be an ass, he really did understand sometimes.  Standing slowly, stiffly, he walked to Shawn’s side.  Sighing as his father stopped beside him, Shawn shook his head.  “What if I screw up?  What if…”

One large hand clasped his shoulder.  “Kid, in spite of what you may have come to believe, there is no manual on parenthood.  There isn’t even a brochure- in spite of that crap they hand out at the clinic.  If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that you’ll screw up.”

Shawn scowled.  “Gee, thanks.  I feel so much better now.”

Henry squeezed a little tighter on the bunched muscles.  “You’ll screw up, you’ll get fed up, and you’ll think you’ve failed time and time again.”  His voice was soft, and his tone brought Shawn’s attention back to the words that weren’t being said.

“But you’ll also come to realize, that there isn’t anything in your life that you will love more.”

Shawn chewed his lip, meeting his father’s eyes again.  Clearing his throat, he sighed.  “What do I do if he has a dirty diaper?”

Laughing, his father walked back to the nearly completed crib.

“Do what I did.  Have his mother change it.”

~*~*~

His hand rested on the wood, while his father’s palm rested on his back.  He couldn’t seem to pull in enough air.  There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room to possibly fill his lungs. 

His world was just on the other side of the door.  He could go in now.  There was no reason to keep him away save his own trembling limbs.

The fingers on his shoulder squeezed gently, but there were no further words. 

Slowly, he reached down and turned the knob.