One nurse shook his head. “I’m afraid all you can do is support Kyle and wait.”
Stark growled in frustration. “I wish I could take half the pain for you,” he said to Kyle. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
“No, it’s okay,” Kyle said through gritted teeth. Cold sweat had started to bead at his forehead. “I wouldn’t want to see you in this kind of pain, either.”
Stark’s heart wrenched.
Kyle’s labor continued for another hour, with no sign of letting up. Stark watched miserably as his mate’s face contorted with pain, and he wished desperately there was something -anything -he could do to help.
By the end of the second hour, Stark started to think that watching your mate go through labor was some kind of weird torture. Kyle was openly groaning in pain now, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the hospital bed railing. His face was taut as he shut his eyes, blocking out the world.
The third hour was dreadful. Kyle couldn’t take the pain any longer and had begun vocalizing, gripping for dear life onto Stark’s now battered hand. But Stark didn’t care - he didn’t mind being an outlet. He would take all the pain in the world as long as it meant Kyle was more comfortable somehow.
By the fourth hour, Stark had noticed that some of the nurses’s expressions began to change. No longer where they happy-go-lucky and upbeat. Worry began to stir in Stark’s chest.
He left Kyle’s side for one moment and quickly approached a nurse who was rushing around. “Excuse me,” he said. “But shouldn’t he have made a little more progress by now? What’s taking so long?”
The nurse’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s, um, normal for there to be a long wait, sir.”
Stark knew he was getting a watered down response and clenched his fists. “Okay. But he’s fine, isn’t he? This isn’t abnormal?”
The nurse seemed to hesitate. “No, he’s okay.”
Stark wasn’t convinced, but he knew he wasn’t going to get much else out of this particular nurse. He grunted and headed back to Kyle’s side, holding his mate’s hand as he writhed in agony.
By the fifth hour it was clear that something was wrong.
A short doctor approached Stark, tapping him on the shoulder. He jerked up from nesting his head in Kyle’s side.
“You’re the father, I presume? Stark, is it?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, furrowing his brow. “What’s the matter?”
“There’s a problem with Kyle’s labor,” she explained with a stern yet concerned face. “I’m afraid his body might be physically too weak to handle a natural birth.”
Stark’s eyes widened. It felt like an avalanche had crushed him.
“What?” he whispered. “But - what does that mean?”
“Calm down,” the doctor said, not unkindly. “It just means that we’re going to have to perform a c-section.”
“Okay.” Stark swallowed hard. “Is that safe?”
The doctor smiled at him. “Yes, of course. I’ll be the one performing the surgery. Your mate will be just fine.”
Stark let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Thank you.”
“But I do have to ask you to wait outside,” she continued. “We usually don’t let family inside the operating room.”
Stark’s face fell. “Oh.” He glanced back at his suffering mate, who was watching their conversation from the bed. “I - can I ask him if that’s okay?”
The doctor nodded patiently. Stark rushed back to Kyle.
“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked breathlessly. His voice was strained, as if even speaking was difficult.
“They’re going to do a c-section on you,” Stark explained. When Kyle’s eyes widened in fear, Stark shook his head. “No, don’t worry, it’s gonna be alright. The doctor knows what she’s doing.”
“Is that her?” Kyle asked, looking at the woman behind Stark. She smiled gently at him.
