All Dean's - Part 6 (Patreon)

Healing Bonds

By the beginning of November, a few days after Halloween, the apartment had gone back into something that almost resembled a routine. None of them would have called it normal, not even jokingly, but there was a pattern they all followed without thinking about it. The initial panic had dulled enough for daily life to continue, but it hadn’t disappeared.

Kaden, Joshua, and Isaac each handled their situations by maintaining their usual routines, as if that could somehow make it all sound logical. Kaden still wore his fitted hoodies and jackets when heading out, though now they fit a little differently. Joshua was just as polished at home, trading his usual formal outfits for soft sweaters and fitted pants that still kept his clean appearance intact. Isaac leaned further into comfort, with loose shirts, shorts, and warm socks, as the air had turned cooler.

Asher, on the other hand, looked the most different and pretended the hardest that nothing had changed. By November 8th, when they were about 12 weeks pregnant, he had gained noticeable weight, about 15 pounds that didn’t spread evenly but gathered around his middle, giving him a ‘pregnant look’ even though it was impossible. It was evident that something was different about him—even compared to the other roommates’ pregnancies.

He lived in oversized hoodies and loose sweatpants, always pulling the fabric down slightly at the front as if that could hide what was happening. He moved more slowly, sat more carefully, and whenever he had to stand up, his hands pressed against the couch or his thighs to push himself upright, but he always tried to cover the struggle with a quick complaint about being tired or sore from work.

Dean noticed every single detail, aware of his involvement in how it all had started. He still struggled to process the fact that he was the father of all those babies, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel the harsh silence that the pregnancies had brought to the apartment. They still gathered in the kitchen every evening, still sat around the table or leaned against the counters while food cooked, but the energy had shifted. There were gaps, long moments when nobody knew what to say, but even then, Dean tried his best to help the others feel comfortable.

One night, as Dean stirred a pot on the stove, he looked over his shoulder and saw Kaden sitting at the table, absentmindedly rubbing his abdomen beneath his hoodie before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He quickly dropped his hand back to his lap as his face flushed red. Across from him, Joshua stared at his laptop, scrolling up and down, clearly rereading the same paragraph without understanding it. Isaac sat near the balcony door with a bowl of fruit, eating slowly as his focus seemed to drift away. Asher leaned back on the couch, insisting he was fine while shifting every few minutes like he couldn’t get comfortable.

Dean stood there for a moment, watching them all. “You guys are quiet tonight,” he said, trying to keep a light tone.

Joshua didn’t look up. “I’m working,” he replied, even though his screen hadn’t changed in several minutes. “Or at least trying to.”

“Thinking,” Isaac added.

Kaden shrugged and smiled. “I’m just tired.”

Asher snorted. “I’m fine.”

Dean slowly turned back to the stove, but the feeling didn’t go away. He knew that the tension, every distant thought, and every small discomfort the roommates were experiencing had something in common: Him. And the worst part was that the thought didn’t make him feel guilty. It made something else stir underneath—something he would rather not look at too closely: Pride. He couldn’t help but smile when he thought about the four guys carrying his babies.

So, instead of trying to explain himself, because there was nothing he could say that would fix any of this, Dean did the only thing that came naturally to him: He took care of them.

At first, nobody noticed the changes. They were small enough to pass as the same kindness he had always shown. He started waking up earlier, getting out of bed before anyone else and heading into the kitchen right away, only wearing his too-tight jockstraps. Within minutes, he had pans heating and coffee brewing as his almost-bare body moved from one side to the other before the pregnant guys even opened their eyes.

One morning, he stood at the counter with his phone in his hand, scrolling through search results with a frown. “Foods that help with nausea,” he whispered, reading before shaking his head. “Let’s see if I can help them with that.”

Every article assumed the recipes were for pregnant women, not men, and it made the situation feel even more unreal. He snorted and deleted the search history immediately, as if the phone itself might judge him. Still, he adjusted the breakfast menu based on the information he gathered from different websites.

Joshua’s breakfast started including small amounts of ginger without any explanation. Kaden found himself reaching for bowls of salted snacks that Dean casually placed within reach instead of protein-heavy meals. Isaac always seemed to have fresh fruit available without needing to ask. Asher stopped seeing bacon on the stove—something Dean phased out when he noticed how pale Asher got at the smell. The roommates didn’t question it, only adapted happily, considering that those changes helped them with symptoms.

Even though the tension started to ease inside the apartment as Dean found ways to get closer to each guy again, things were harder to maintain outside.

Kaden tried the most to keep his life unchanged. Every morning, he walked into the office with the same posture and calm expression, but his body made it harder each day. Sitting through long meetings left his lower back aching, making him arch his posture without even noticing it. More than once, he shifted in his chair, briefly pressing a hand against the side of his torso before realizing what he was doing.

One afternoon, standing in the mirrored elevator, he saw his reflection and froze for a split second. The curve was subtle, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it, but he was looking. He exhaled slowly and looked away, adjusting the fabric as if that would erase it.

“It’s just a bit of extra weight,” he said to himself. “No big deal.”

Later, at his desk, he opened his browser to search for reference material and somehow ended up staring at images of nursery furniture instead.

“What am I doing?” he said, shaking his head in confusion.

Another day, leaning over a drafting table, he instinctively rested both hands on the lower part of his abdomen as if to support it. The gesture felt natural for half a second before a coworker walked past. Kaden straightened immediately, and his hands moved into his pockets as heat rushed to his face. He tried to pretend everything was okay, but eventually people noticed and commented on the weird behavior.

“Skipping the site visit again?” someone asked casually one evening.

Kaden didn’t know how to respond because he was trying to stay away from those places that were too hard for him to move safely.

“You’re eating more than usual,” another pointed out with a grin.

Kaden rolled his eyes and preferred to ignore the playful comment, aware that it was normal for people on construction sites to tease each other like that. He had been part of those jokes before, but it was different now that they reminded him of the pregnancy. No one was close to the truth because they couldn’t be. However, they continued to speculate about stress, stomach issues, and overwork.

One morning, his boss couldn’t hide his concern anymore, called him into the office, and closed the door behind them. “Hey, you okay, man? How did that appointment go?” the older man asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Kaden hesitated, briefly clasping his hands. He started with the safest version of the truth. “They ran blood tests,” he said carefully. “Then imaging. Then more tests.”

His boss nodded, following along. “Okay, and?”

Kaden swallowed hard. There was no way to explain the truth in a way that would make sense, no way to phrase it that wouldn’t sound insane. “They found something,” he finally said.

His boss leaned forward slightly. “What kind of something?”

Kaden hesitated again, then finally forced the word out. “Babies. Twins.”

For a second, there was an awkward silence. Then his boss laughed. “That’s not funny,” he said, shaking his head. “Good joke, but I’m actually concerned.”

Kaden didn’t smile, so the laughter faded.

“Wait,” his boss said, frowning. “You’re serious?”

Kaden didn’t trust himself to speak again, so he only nodded and rested his hands on his slightly rounded middle.

“No way. Aren’t you a man?” the boss asked, and Kaden nodded. “Then, how? How is that possible? I don’t understand.”

Kaden sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Neither do I. But it is what it is.”

They sat there for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Okay. Assuming you have not lost your mind and that you are actually pregnant,” the boss finally said. “We keep this between us,” he added, taking a deep breath and shaking his head in confusion. “Until someone figures out what the hell is going on.”

Kaden could only nod. He had no idea what else he could do in his situation.

Meanwhile, Joshua’s logical mind could not tolerate uncertainty, so he tried to regain control in the only way that had ever worked for him: by organizing everything down to the smallest detail. He began building spreadsheets that tracked every possible variable he could think of—weight gain, waist circumference, appetite fluctuations, sleep quality, nausea frequency, and resting heart rate.

Every morning before work, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a tape measure in one hand and his phone in the other, typing down numbers with precision that felt almost clinical. He would pause sometimes, staring at the data after entering it, waiting for it to reveal something—a pattern, some logic, or an explanation that medicine had somehow missed. But the numbers never told him anything useful. They only confirmed what he already knew: Dean had somehow gotten him pregnant, and there was no way to stop the growth around his middle.

One evening, after a particularly long and draining day, Dean knocked on Joshua’s door and walked inside with a mug of tea meant to help with nausea. Joshua was sitting on the edge of his bed with his laptop open in front of him. He fixed his eyes on the screen with an intensity that looked more strained than focused. Dean took a few steps closer, and for a second, he saw the spreadsheet.

Joshua snapped the laptop shut so fast it made a sharp cracking sound.

“Sorry,” Dean said, lifting the mug. “I just brought some tea,” he said, setting it down within reach. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Joshua replied dryly. He reached for the mug, wrapping both hands around it as if he needed the warmth, and let out a slow breath.

“Does it help?” Dean asked after a second of hesitation. “Keeping track of it all?”

Joshua didn’t answer right away. “If I don’t measure it,” he said after a while, “then all I have left are feelings.” He swallowed, closing his eyes as if calming himself down. “And lately my feelings are worse than any numbers I could write down.”

Dean felt guilty again for a second as the pregnancy he had caused was giving Joshua such a hard time. He didn’t joke and only moved a little closer until he could sit beside Joshua on the bed. “Then keep the numbers,” he said. “And I’ll stay for the rest.”

Joshua chuckled, rolling his eyes. “It won’t fix anything,” he whispered.

“I know,” Dean replied. “But maybe it’ll help you.”

They stayed like that for a long time, and at some point, without really thinking about it, Joshua moved closer. His head slowly tilted until it rested against Dean’s shoulder, and he didn’t even seem to notice when it happened. He started complaining about hormones, about how off everything felt, and about how none of it made sense, but his voice had softened.

Dean didn’t tease him and didn’t move much. He let Joshua lean there, understanding that for once Joshua didn’t need control. The pregnant guy only needed support, and Dean was more than willing to provide it.

Meanwhile, Isaac adapted in an entirely different way. Things weren’t easier for him, but he approached everything with a strange curiosity that helped with the fear. Carrying triplets meant his body changed faster. His shirts started stretching sooner across the front, showing that it was not just weight gain.

One afternoon, Dean came back from college and found Isaac standing in the hallway in front of the mirror, turned slightly to the side. He was watching how his body moved and how the subtle bump looked from different angles.

“You checking yourself out?” Dean asked, dropping his bag by the door.

Isaac gasped, then smiled, seemingly unbothered. “Trying to understand it,” he said. “I’ve handled the shock, and now I just need to figure other stuff out.” He hesitated for a moment, then he reached out and took Dean’s hand, guiding it forward and placing it against the firm curve beneath his shirt.

Dean froze.

“It feels different than before, right?” Isaac said, watching Dean’s reaction.

“It does.” Dean grinned, spreading his fingers to caress the soft skin. “Is it okay if I keep my hand here for a moment?”

“Sure. It helps, to be honest,” Isaac said, closing his eyes. “You’ll say I’m crazy, but it seems to calm down whatever’s happening in there.”

Dean’s hand slowed slightly. “Yeah?”

Isaac nodded, still relaxed. “It’s weird, but it feels right,” he admitted. “It’s maybe the fact that it’s your babies that are growing inside me.”

Those words made Dean’s heart warm up. His touch was probably reaching deeper—down to the babies they had created together. He didn’t pull away, marveling at the idea that their babies already recognized him as their dad. And the best part was that Isaac seemed to be pretty cool about being this close to Dean once again.

Asher handled everything differently—or didn’t handle it at all. His denial only grew stronger the more obvious things became, even as his body changed more dramatically than everyone else’s. Every explanation he came up with sounded thinner than the last, but he insisted on them anyway, like they were the only thing keeping everything from falling apart.

One morning, he stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while sipping water. His free hand pressed absentmindedly against his middle before he noticed it.

“I’m just retaining water,” he said, a little too fast, but nobody argued anymore.

Dean got right beside Asher. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Asher snapped. A second later, his expression faltered as dizziness hit him. His hand reached forward to grip the counter.

Dean held him immediately. “Hey. Easy.”

“I said I’m fine,” Asher said, but he didn’t pull away.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, guiding him toward a chair. “And I’m just standing here. Sit.”

Later that day, Dean found Asher near the couch, bent forward awkwardly as he struggled with his shoes.

Without making a big deal out of it, Dean crouched down in front of Asher. “I got it,” he said casually, reaching for the laces.

Asher hesitated, then leaned back slightly. “This is stupid,” he said in frustration.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, tying the knot. “Totally stupid.”

Asher looked down at him, frowning. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said.

Dean stood up with a smirk. “I am not. You are.”

Asher rolled his eyes, but whenever he struggled with anything, he would lean into Dean’s support without a second thought. And even if he refused to admit it out loud, he loved to feel Dean’s body right beside him when things got difficult.

Throughout those weeks, Dean still struggled to handle everything happening around him. Sitting in lectures, surrounded by other students taking notes and asking questions like nothing in the world had changed, he struggled to stay present. Words blurred together on the board, concepts he usually picked up quickly slipped right past him, and his attention kept going back to the apartment—to Kaden shifting uncomfortably in his chair, to Joshua fighting through nausea in the mornings, to Isaac standing in front of the mirror with a thoughtful look, and to Asher pretending nothing was wrong while clearly struggling the most.

More than once, he ended up opening tabs between classes, typing things like “high-risk multiple pregnancies” into the search bar. He read multiple articles that made his chest tighten more with every line. The words “twins,” “triplets,” “complications,” “monitoring,” and “care” stacked on top of each other, making everything more real and more dangerous. When someone walked past him, he would immediately close the browser, as if hiding the search could somehow make the situation less true.

He stopped thinking about the gym. Instead of planning workouts, he planned meals. His focus moved toward the apartment and his pregnant roommates. He still didn’t understand how any of it was possible and didn’t have a logical explanation, but every day their bodies changed a little more, and it made him try harder to help them.

One evening, while they were all gathered around the living room, Kaden let out a groan as he leaned forward slightly, pressing one hand against his lower back. “Ugh! My back is killing me,” he complained, unable to find a comfortable position.

Dean looked over, and something tightened in his chest. “Yeah?” he said, getting closer without hesitation. “Here, sit back for a second.”

Kaden looked at him, tired and skeptical. “What are you—”

“Just relax,” Dean cut in, already moving behind him. “It’s just a massage. Nothing else.”

Kaden groaned but didn’t stop the big guy.

Dean’s hands settled carefully on Kaden’s shoulders at first, pressing his thumbs into the tight muscles there before slowly working their way down.

Kaden tilted his head back and let out a long breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, damn it,” he whispered. “Yes. Please, don’t stop.”

Dean smiled to himself, remembering how Kaden used to beg just like that when they were having sex. Still, he focused on working along the sore back as he could feel the tension there. “You’ve been on your feet a lot today?” he asked.

“Too much,” Kaden replied. “Meetings and site stuff. Sitting hurts, and standing hurts just as much. Everything—” He cut himself off with another soft groan as Dean’s thumbs pressed into a particularly tight spot. “Yeah, right there.”

Dean adjusted slightly, moving his hands along Kaden’s sides. He hesitated for a second, then moved around to the front, caressing the subtle belly. “Lean back a little,” he said.

Kaden blinked at him, then did as he was told.

Dean’s thumbs moved slowly, rubbing Kaden’s middle.

“Ugh. That actually helps,” Kaden admitted.

Dean swallowed as, alongside the guilt, he felt something else taking over his thoughts. He knew he was guilty for what Kaden was facing, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel proud of being the one responsible for it. He thought of each of the roommates and how he had knocked them all up with multiple babies, and despite the recent tension and how hard things had been for each of them, Dean’s cock stirred in his shorts right there.

Kaden moved and groaned, snapping Dean out of his horny thoughts. “You’re way too good at that,” he whispered.

Dean smirked, adjusting himself to hide his horniness. “Yeah, well,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of practice taking care of you guys.”

“Fair.” Kaden laughed and relaxed even more into Dean’s touch. “I guess that’s how we all got into this mess.” His hand moved lower to rest on his abdomen alongside Dean’s.

The other guys in the room couldn’t help but laugh at that, not denying how true it was. Dean smirked and kept rubbing Kaden’s body, aware that as weird as the whole situation was, they still needed him, and he also needed each one of them in his life.

...

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