Maxwell lay on his back in the semi dark room, Andrew's hand in his own as the cool gel was placed on his stomach. The ceiling tiles above him was familiar and foreign at the same time. Andrew's hand squeezed his own, forcing Maxwell to turn his head to look at him.
Andrew's face was smiling, his eyes amber. Protective, caring, loving, the man had cried that morning over the act that they were doing right now, but had toughened up as soon as they had gotten into the car.
He had insisted on driving them on their own, not letting Maxwell call for a driver. He wanted to drive them together. He wanted to drive his family together to the hospital. That thought had made Maxwell melt inside.
His family. Their family.
Maxwell turned his gaze back to his Doctor, thankful that she was able to be with him during this moment. Her gaze was focused, working on getting her part of this set up before she turned to Maxwell, smiling.
