Protect the flock! From JP and Hachette!
What are you doing right now?
Besides posting on here and replying to this thread. Original credit for this goes back to Fate and Nathan on MX.
Views: 29454
Replies to This Discussion
-
Permalink Reply by Doomy on
-
Talking to a VERY cute boy.
Who just so happens to be my date to formal ;D .
*Success!*
-
Permalink Reply by nathan_p on
-
>.> Pssht, fluff.
---
For the time being, she was still his secret. Jeb knew, of course -- but no one else here did. Not yet.
It amazed him, to think that they were the only two people who knew she existed -- perhaps not so much amazed as excited, though. She belonged to them, and them only.
She wouldn’t be a secret for much longer, of course -- but for the time being, at least, you’d have to have known about his experiment to even guess that he was pregnant.
As it was, even accounting for how slim he’d been at the beginning of it all, it was hard to tell that he’d changed. In clothes, especially the looser t-shirts and trousers he was beginning to favor, he looked much the same as always.
Now, though, lying down in bed half-dozing... it wasn’t as obvious as he knew it was going to be in the future, but it was decently evident that, at the very least, he was a little thicker around the middle than he’d once been.
He wasn’t frightened, oddly enough -- not as such, at least.
Rather, he was absolutely terrified. Why shouldn’t he be? In half a year, more likely than not, he wasn’t going to be holding his daughter in his arms as he dreamed of doing -- he was going to be dead.
Jeb wasn’t in the room with him -- he was in the lab this morning -- and so Roland spoke freely.
“I’m scared, schatz -- I’m afraid I’ll never get to meet you.” His voice was low, almost conspiratorial. “I want so badly to meet you, you know. You cannot know how much you mean to me.”
He could hear the way his voice shook, and he raised one hand to wipe away the tears welling in his eyes. God. This was so ridiculous, when he thought about it -- this ought to be a happy time for him. He had no time to waste in worrying... and yet he couldn’t help it, just as he couldn’t help feeling sick to his stomach every morning.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and brought his hands to his stomach, interlacing the fingers. “I worry too much, I think.”
No, he knew he worried too much -- although in this case it was almost reasonable. His daughter needed him -- now, before she’d even been born, as well as once he’d given birth. If he were dead -- if -- he couldn’t take care of her.
But Jeb would still be there for her, wouldn’t he? He’d have to be -- he wouldn’t just abandon their daughter like that.
Would he?
No. He was certain of that -- calling it into question made him feel... well, he already felt horribly nauseous and tired, but it made him feel panicked. Who would take care of her, if not them?
There could be no thoughts like that -- not now. She would be taken care of.
He pressed his hands against his stomach. It was hard to think of her future when he couldn’t even feel her moving yet. Yet he knew she was there.
The first thing an unborn child hears is its mother’s heartbeat. The second is its mother’s voice.
Disregarding the fact that he was male, and therefore could not be his daughter’s mother... where had he heard that? It seemed almost self-evident -- and it was, perhaps, the reason he’d been making a practice of talking to her.
He smiled. Well, that and the fact that it made him feel at least a little better to talk about what he was feeling. That sounded so silly, and yet... if he couldn’t feel like someone was hearing him, it would’ve been easy to go crazy.
As it was, at least it was comforting to think she heard his voice. Was that so silly?
He had something of an excuse for it all, though -- with all the hormones running wild in his body right now, it would’ve been hard for him to remain levelheaded and entirely unchanged.
He closed his eyes. It was easy to feel alone, right now, while he was still unable to feel her moving -- alone and tired and constantly nauseous.
A knock came on the door, followed by a voice pitched softly enough that it wouldn’t have woken him if he’d actually managed to fall asleep.
Jeb.
“Roland? You awake?”
“Yes,” he answered, without bothering to open his eyes.
“I’m going to come in,” he said. That was so like him, too -- Roland had noticed in the first week he’d known the man that Jeb had a tendency to be heartbreakingly considerate. This was Jeb’s room he was in -- Jeb had every right to come in whenever he felt like it. And yet he felt the need to ask.
“Fine.” He would’ve sat up, but he knew that that would’ve just made him feel even worse.
The door opened, and he heard Jeb walk in. His footsteps stopped at the side of the bed.
“Are you... feeling all right?”
Do I look like I am?
“In a word, no,” he said, and heard Jeb laugh, then his hand gently brushing against the sheets.
“Sorry to hear that. I’m done in the lab for today, though. Do you need anything?”
Without opening his eyes, Roland took Jeb’s hand in his. “Stay with me.”
“If you need me to.” He didn’t sound reluctant -- more compassionate than anything.
His hand was warm -- am I cold, then? He didn’t feel cold.
Jeb sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” He spread the fingers of his other hand over his stomach. “I was thinking.”
Silence. Then Jeb squeezed his hand once. “Have you eaten anything yet?”
I’ve hardly gotten out of bed.
“No.” The most he’d really done was try to keep from throwing up again -- twice was enough for one morning, especially given that it was hardly ten o’ clock.
“You should eat something,” he said, his tone making it a gentle rebuke.
“I really don’t think I should.” Just the thought made him feel, if it was possible, worse. His mouth still tasted vaguely bad, even though he’d brushed his teeth, and he’d really rather not risk throwing up again. It was starting to get old.
Jeb sighed. “You need to eat. I can bring you some soup if you don’t want to get up.”
He forced himself to chuckle -- it sounded a bit weak, he thought. “I’d really rather not throw up on you, thanks.”
“I appreciate that.” He shifted position, brought his free hand up to run the fingers through Roland’s hair. It was rare for Jeb to be so forward -- rare, but enjoyable. “You might feel better if you ate something.”
“I don’t think so.” He did not want to think about food just now.
“I’m just saying.” He stroked Roland’s hair, the gesture as familiar as if they’d known each other longer than three months.
There was silence between them for a moment before he spoke.
“This part does end, right?” Because he was done with the throwing up when he was almost always hungry, done with being this tired all the time. He thought he remembered hearing that it would get better after a while, but he wasn’t sure -- and he wanted Jeb to be the one offering him such reassurance. He needed comforting right now.
“Yes,” he said simply, his fingers tracing lightly across Roland’s forehead. “I promise that it does. You’ll feel better soon.”
He knew Jeb wasn’t one to break a promise, and so that put a few of his fears to rest, at least. He sighed. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He paused, and Roland could almost see the mischievous smile that would be playing on his lips. “You would feel better if you ate something, though. Trust me.”
“I do.”
With all my heart.
-
Permalink Reply by Ovie! Ovie! Ovie! Oy! Oy! Oy! on
-
That was a d'aw moment there.
^that's kind of embarrassing to say here. So be proud.
-
Permalink Reply by Xuut on
-
That made me go, "awwwwwww". And then grin like in an idiot.
Twas so sweet and adorable.
Fluff can make people feel so much better.
-
Permalink Reply by Megan (Fishy) on
-
So since you lovelies are the only thing that hasn't seemingly gone to hell today, I just wanted to remind you that I luffle you all. *hugs thread*
And now I'm going to try to teach myself geometry, while simultaneously trying to teach this annoying bitch from my class geometry, because she doesn't get it either. Wish me luck.
-
-
Thanks. No, not very fun...
© 2025 Created by Z.
Powered by
