🦇❤️🌱 @spencersprentiss - Tumblr Blog

Jun 29

Between Yawns & 3 am Confessions | pt. 1

˚꩜｡pairing: eddie x fem!reader

˚꩜｡summary: Between midnight chocolate cravings and mind-blowing surprises, you learn that Eddie Munson should never be allowed to name a child.

˚꩜｡tags/tw: tooth rotting fluff (but the blog is still 18+ so mdni) | no y/n, afab/fem!reader, est. relationship, discussions of future children, pregnancy, domestic fluff, soft eddie, domestic bliss, terrible baby names, eddie is so in love its actually disgusting, eddie is an absolute simp, eddie is also kinda stupid but in a im-so-excited-i-cant-think kinda way, eddie calling us mama bc its hot idc, kinda grumpy (reader) x sunshine (eddie), no smut,

˚꩜｡word count: 11.6k+

˚꩜｡a/n: i don’t know how i feel about this but i can’t let this sit in my drafts any longer

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Every muscle in your body immediately froze when you heard the bedroom door creak softly down the hall.

Completely forgetting you were holding the refrigerator door wide open, you stayed still for a few more seconds, hoping that whatever the noise was, it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Except your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you – that much became clear when the door creaked again, followed by the soft sound of footsteps.

Eddie rubbed at one eye, brows pulled into a sleepy furrow, his hair somehow messier than usual and his lips pouting like a child who’d just woken from a nightmare. He blinked a few times in your direction, trying to get his vision to focus.

“What are you doing awake?” he mumbled, still rubbing at his eye.

The warm amber light from the fridge spilled streaks of gold across the side of your face and the oversized shirt hanging off your frame. While Eddie wore socks, your feet were bare, cold against the ceramic kitchen tiles.

“…Chocolate,” you answered after a few seconds.

The sleepy expression on Eddie’s face gave way to confusion as his brows knitted even tighter together.

“You? Eating chocolate?” He glanced at the calendar hanging beside the fridge. “I don’t wanna be that guy, but are you getting your period already?”

You stared at him blankly for a few seconds before huffing something under your breath and pulling out the ridiculously large chocolate bar he’d bought earlier that week. You dropped it onto the counter without much thought and reached for the milk bottle next.

“Are you keeping track or something?” you mumbled, pushing the refrigerator door shut with your hip.

“Kinda, yeah,” he breathed, slipping onto one of the kitchen stools.

“Why?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t wanna wake Wayne,” you replied softly, peeling back the green wrapper of the chocolate bar.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled, shaking his head as something soft settled into his eyes. “We have our own place.”

The piece of chocolate resting between your fingertips immediately halted mid-air as his words sank in.

“I keep forgetting we don’t live with Wayne anymore,” you mumbled after a moment, setting the broken piece back on the table so you could rub at your eye. “But why are you tracking my periods?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh and propped his chin on one hand while the fingers of the other drummed quietly against the table.

“Just in case,” he settled on after a moment.

He leaned across the tabletop and stole a piece of chocolate, immediately popping it into his mouth.

“In case of what?” you asked, frowning.

Dark brown eyes stared tiredly back at you as the words that had just left your mouth were briefly forgotten in favour of another piece of chocolate. His gaze lingered on your face for a few seconds longer than necessary as he tried to remember the last time he’d seen you eat chocolate willingly – without having him spent ten minutes trying to convince you to share a bar with him because he couldn’t possibly finish it by himself, only for you to eventually give in to the obvious manipulation.

Truthfully, he couldn’t remember.

Maybe it was because it was a little after three in the morning and his exhausted brain had decided to focus on all the wrong things.

“In case you wanna start trying,” he replied, sounding almost distracted. “Y’know, for kids.”

You stared at him for a few long seconds, your jaw stopping mid-chew as the chocolate slowly melted on your tongue and his words finally settled in.

“You want kids?” you asked hesitantly after forcing down the barely chewed mouthful.

Your gaze dropped to the table as you reached for another piece of chocolate, patiently waiting for his answer.

While the two of you had been together for quite some time now – five years and seven months, as Eddie had reminded you nearly a week ago – the topic of children had never really come up. Maybe in passing, maybe as an offhand joke here and there, but there’d never been a serious conversation about it.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment, scratching at the back of his head. Then he cleared his throat. “I do.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered across your face as though he hadn’t already memorised every detail. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and something impossibly soft settled in his expression at whatever thought had just crossed his mind. In the process, he completely missed the way your free hand reached for something beneath the table.

“Maybe two,” he added quietly, still looking at you. “I can already picture ‘em.”

His smile widened just a little, and his gaze lingered on your face for another moment before he let out a quiet laugh through his nose.

“My hair, your eyes,” he murmured. “God, they’d be cute.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you as you continued bringing pieces of chocolate to your mouth.

The moon spilled soft silvery-white streaks through the kitchen window, washing your face in its glow. A smudge of brown lingered at the corner of your mouth, and your hair was still tousled from the few hours of sleep you’d managed before the cravings woke you.

Something warm spread through Eddie’s chest at the sight.

“Think they’d get your smile too.”

Eddie, for all his joking and teasing, suddenly held a glimmer in his eyes you’d never seen before – the utter absence of fear when it came to the future.

You smiled at him then – the genuine, warm smile reserved for him and him alone. The one that never failed to make his stomach flip without his permission. The very smile he hoped his kids would inherit.

“They better have your hair,” you said softly after a moment. “It’s prettier than mine.”

“Yeah, it is,” he replied immediately, a grin already pulling at his lips.

“Asshole,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“But I’m your asshole.”

Your brows furrowed in slight confusion before a loud, belly-aching laugh escaped you.

“I don’t think that sounded as romantic as you were hoping for, babe.”

His hand came up to rub at the stubble along his jaw while his face twisted into an exaggerated wince. Meanwhile, you were having the time of your life, watching him with a knowing smile spread across your face.

“Hold on, now,” Eddie muttered. “It sounded way better in my head.”

“If you say so,” you chuckled, nudging the chocolate bar closer to him, seemingly satisfied with your sugar fix.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you after that, only the low hum of the fridge and the faint chirping of birds outside filled the kitchen.

Then, after a moment:

“What about you?” Eddie asked, leaning forward onto the table. “Do you want kids?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, your gaze drifted towards the window, catching the branches of the tree outside sway gently in the wind while your fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of your shirt.

A soft sigh escaped you before you finally looked back at him.

Carefully pushing your chair back so you wouldn’t piss off the neighbours downstairs, you stood and crossed the kitchen.

“I, uh…” you trailed off quietly, staring down at the tiled countertop as you discreetly reached for something.

Eddie’s stomach dropped at the uncertainty in your voice.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he said quietly, turning his gaze towards the window.

It wasn’t okay, not really.

He’d been picturing it for a while now – you, the little house he’d always dreamed about, the high-pitched giggles echoing through hallways, tiny fingers pressing down the wrong guitar strings while he patiently taught them how to play.

But he’d get over it.

Even if he had to bury the dream somewhere deep enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

Soft footsteps crossed the kitchen as you made your way back to him. Youd hand settled on his shoulder and gently pulled him closer until his head rested comfortably against your stomach.

“I don’t like chocolate,” you said simply before leaning down to kiss his temple.

And it was true, you didn’t like chocolate. Anything more than a small piece usually left your stomach in knots and nausea creeping up your throat until you looked green for the rest of the day.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But, uh…” You swallowed hard before opening your hand. “I guess I don’t really get a say in what I eat anymore.”

“What?”

You were convinced you’d never heard him sound more confused.

His brows drew together, lips pursing as he finally looked away from the window and back at you.

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” you whispered, absentmindedly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

It took him a second too long to notice what you were holding. But once he did, nothing got through to him anymore. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stared at the object resting in your palm.

“What?”

A soft giggle escaped you at the sight of your boyfriend completely malfunctioning.

His dark brown doe eyes somehow widened even further as confusion seeped deeper into his veins. The unexpectedly emotional conversation you’d just had – and the fact that he was still half asleep at three in the morning – probably didn’t help much either.

Eddie’s mind had gone completely blank as he stared down at the stick in your hand, every single thing he’d ever learned during sex ed suddenly abandoning him.

Somehow, the furrow between his eyebrows only deepened as his gaze flickered between you, the object in your hand, and the chocolate bar forgotten on the table.

Then it slowly started to click: the way you’d been rolling around restlessly when the two of you had gone to bed earlier; the chocolate; the way you’d said you didn’t really have a say in what you ate anymore.

“No.”

Eddie finally dragged his gaze away from the green wrapper sitting on the table and back to your face.

Though the small smile still lingered on your lips, the glimmer in your eyes had begun to fade into something closer to nervous uncertainty.

“How?”

The stupid question and the utter confusion in his voice pulled a disbelieving laugh from you.

“What do you mean how, Eds?”

“I just– I mean–” He swallowed around the sudden dry lump in his throat. “Is this real?”

“As real as a heart attack,” you whispered.

Twitching fingers, bare of their usual silver rings, reached towards the white stick. Eddie hesitated for a split second before finally taking it from your hand. Moonlight spilled softly across his face as he turned the pregnancy test between his fingers.

“We’re… having a baby?” His voice sounded small and uncertain, like he didn’t quite dare believe it yet.

“That’s what the two lines mean, yeah,” you answered softly, gently combing your fingers through his curls. “But we should still confirm it with a doctor to be sure.”

His eyes remained fixed on the rest for several more seconds, as though he expected the result to change if he stared at it long enough. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to you – and suddenly, it felt like it was the first time he was really seeing you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, barely audible while his eyes widened even further. “Holy fucking shit.”

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Yeah. That was pretty much my reaction, too.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your stomach, but nothing looked different. You were still you – standing barefoot in the kitchen at three in the morning, wearing an oversized shirt, still sporting a tiny smear of chocolate in the corner of your mouth, and still carrying sleep in your eyes.

And yet, somehow, everything had changed.

A shaky breath escaped him. “There’s… a baby in there?”

His hand lifted before stopping halfway, hovering awkwardly between the two of you – like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. Or if touching you would somehow make the moment too real.

When you gently took his wrist and pressed his palm against your stomach, Eddie nearly stopped breathing, snapping his eyes to yours and then back down again.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his thumb tracing slow circles against your stomach.

For a moment, all he could do was stare as a breathless laugh escaped him, equal parts disbelief and wonder.

Then, suddenly:

“Wayne’s gonna kill me.”

“What?”

Eddie finally looked up at you, wide-eyed.

“Wayne,” he repeated. “When he finds out he’s gonna be a grandfather.”

The sheer panic on his face pulled a snort out of you before you could stop it.

“He’s not gonna kill you, Eddie.”

“He absolutely is,” Eddie insisted. “Always said not to become a teen dad like my father.”

“You’re twenty-three, Eddie.”

“That’s not the point.”

His fingertips buzzed from touching your stomach as he wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned forwards until his forehead rested against your sternum.

“You know how he is,” he continued quietly, his words slightly muffled by the way he’d squished his face into you. “He’s gonna give me that look.”

“What look?” you asked, staring down at him while absentmindedly combing your fingers through his hair. “The disappointed one?”

“No.” Eddie frowned against your shirt. “The other one. The worse one.”

“Huh?”

“The proud one.”

“Come again?” You blinked.

“The proud one,” Eddie repeated, horror evident in his voice as he finally pulled back enough to look up at you. “Y’know, the one that makes me all uncomfortable because he gets even quieter and weird and starts looking at me like I actually did something right for once?”

You shot him an incredulous look before your lips parted and a laugh burst free.

“Are you serious?” you scoffed. “You’re scared Wayne’s gonna be proud of you?”

“Terrified,” he confirmed with a firm nod.

Your laughter slowly faded as you found yourself caught in the glimmer of those impossibly big brown eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” your murmured, though there wasn’t an ounce of bite behind the words. A smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a father.”

For the first time since you’d handed him the test, the words seemed to truly register, and the grin slowly slipped from his face as his eyes dropped to your stomach again.

“Yeah,” he whispered, the word coming out softer this time – almost awestruck.

You leaned down and pressed a kiss against his forehead, your fingers brushing through his curls as you watched the realisation settle over him.

Then:

“What about Dio if it’s a boy?”

“Eddie.”

“Harris?” he continued, completely ignoring you. “Harris Munson sounds cool.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to recruit him into Iron Maiden before he’s even born.”

“I am trying to recruit him into Iron Maiden, babe,” Eddie shot back with a deadpan look. “It’s only fitting, considering I was named after their mascot.”

You stared at him, completely serious as you opened your mouth.

“You were born before they even hit puberty.”

“Don’t rain on my parade here, sweetheart.”

You stared at him with raised eyebrows, blinking slowly as a serious expression settled across your face.

“Keep suggesting stupid names and the baby get my last name instead.”

The horror on Eddie’s face was immediate.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Without hesitation, Eddie leaned forwards and pressed his face against your stomach, immediately launching into a stream of incoherent mumbling.

“Don’t start manipulating the baby into liking you more.”

“How–”

“I know you.”

Before Eddie could even attempt to defend himself, an exaggerated yawn escaped you, barely giving you enough time to cover your mouth.

“You tired?” he asked quietly, stealing a glance at the clock hanging above the fridge.

“Yeah,” you admitted, another yawn following close behind.

Eddie slowly pushed himself to his feet, refusing to let go of your waist. If anything, his arms only tightened around you as he pulled you against his chest. His lips found your temple with ease, pressing a lingering kiss there while his thumbs traced lazy circles against your sides.

“Let’s get you two to bed, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this how you’re gonna be for the next nine months?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Better get used to it,” Eddie chuckled as he finally loosened his hold and intertwined your fingers with his. “Imma be insufferable.”

He glanced over his shoulder and shot you a grin as he led you down the hallway, already making a mental note to clean up the chocolate wrapped and put everything away when he inevitably woke up again in a few hours.

“More than you already are?” you teased while closing the bedroom door behind you.

Eddie dropped onto the edge of the bed, his hand still wrapped around yours as he gently pulled you into his lap.

“More than I already am,” he confirmed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His brown eyes glimmered beneath the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, his expression softening into something almost unbearably tender as he looked at you.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Love you too, Eds,” you whispered back. Your free hand came up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing softly against his skin.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, blinking up at you. “Enough to let me name him Harris?”

“I’ll leave the dad box blank if you keep this up.”

“Ritchie?” he continued, completely ignoring you, though the cheeky smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “No, wait. Cliff.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “Jesus Christ Munson doesn’t sound very metal.”

You groaned and buried your face in the crook of his neck, punctuating your protest with a meaningless slap against his chest.

Eddie gently pulled back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes immediately finding your face as a victorious grin spread across his lips. His heart thumped heavily in his chest at the sight of your sleepy eyes and the smile tugging at your mouth.

He’s utterly, hopelessly gone.

He nodded to himself, as though confirming some private thought he’d just had.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, and the apartment had gone quiet again; no buzzing refrigerator, no chirping birds outside. Just the distant hum of the city and Eddie’s arms wrapped securely around you.

He loosened one arm and carefully let his hand drift to your stomach. His thumb traced absentminded circles against the fabric of your shirt, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Please,” you cut in immediately, already knowing where this was going. “Stop suggesting names.”

A laugh escaped him, followed by a shake of his head. “I wasn’t gonna.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Okay, yeah. Maybe I was.”

You narrowed your eyes, but were unable to stop the quiet chuckle slipped past your lips.

“Idiot.”

Eddie’s smile softened at the sound of your low laughter.

“Your idiot, though.”

Yeah, he was.

And somehow, in the span of a single night, he’d gone from being your idiot to the father of your child.

Your eyes felt heavy, like your eyelashes suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, and you instinctively snuggled further into Eddie’s chest.

He was warm, and safe, and soft beneath your cheeks as he pressed gentle kisses along your neck and pulled you with him while he shuffled further up the bed.

“C’mere, sleepyhead,” he whispered, tugging the duvet over both of you.

Your head sank deeper into the warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoed beneath your ear.

Before long, your eyes drifted shut. And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, sleep found you again.

When you woke up again, faint streaks of pale yellow filtered through the curtains, spilling the early morning sunshine across a half-empty bed.

It took a few tries to blink the sleep from your eyes, and a few more seconds for the static in your legs to finally disappear. Though the exhaustion from the night before had eased, the lazy haze of an early Saturday morning still lingered stubbornly, with no sign of leaving anytime soon.

The red numbers on Eddie’s bedside alarm clock told you it was a little before nine – which only made his absence all the more remarkable.

The soft click of the bedroom door opening was nearly drowned by the low hum of the kitchen radio playing whatever illegal station Eddie had managed to find that morning. Your footsteps were just as quiet as you padded down the hallway and into the kitchen.

And there he was, in all his glory.

Dark curls tied into a low-effort bun. Soft red-and-black flannel pants hanging low on his hips. His tattooed back on full display, highlighted by the streaks of sunshine pouring through the kitchen window.

The tiled countertop was a complete mess once you got close enough to see it properly – spilled flour, broken eggshells he’d yet to throw away, batter dripping down the side of the ceramic bowl he’d gifted you two Valentine’s Days ago.

The very bowl that had made you sigh wistfully whenever you’d walked past it in the store, sporting the most ridiculous price tag a bowl could possibly have.

You wound your arms him, instinctively burying yourself in the warmth of his neck. Your nose nudged through the messy curls that had escaped his bun as you breathed him in.

For a moment, you simply stood there.

One hand drifted from his waist to his chest, tracing over warm skin and familiar curves – feeling the dip of his waist and the softness of his stomach beneath your fingertips.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled the second he felt your arms around him, carefully setting the spatula down on the counter. “I was supposed to wake you up with breakfast in bed.”

“That’s reserved for special occasions only,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“Finding out you’re carrying my baby kinda qualifies, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

Eddie wiggled free from your hold just enough to turn around, and his hands immediately found your face. Calloused fingers softly squished your cheeks as he angled your head towards him and stole a quick, gentle kiss.

His brown eyes softened almost instantly at the sight of your sleepy blinking and the faint traces of sleep still lingering in the corners of your eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing softly across your cheeks.

“Morning,” you replied quietly, trailing your hand up and down his back.

Eddie’s nose twitched as he let go of your cheeks and turned back to the stove. The pancake had been mere seconds away from burning, but he managed to save it before he could set the kitchen on fire less than ten hours after receiving the news.

“So, I was thinking,” he started quietly, flipping the pancake before giving the batter another stir.

“It’s too early for baby names, Eds,” you sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder blade.

Eddie chuckled under his breath, sliding the spatula beneath the pancake before transferring it to the growing stack he’d set aside.

“Not baby names, I swear,” he laughed, bringing his free hand to the one splayed across his stomach, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I was thinking about going to Indianapolis later today.”

“A little early to start shopping,” you mumbled against his skin, pressing your cheek against the familiar inked bat on his right shoulder.

“Not for the baby,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Thought maybe I’d buy you something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie.”

“Why not?” He glanced over his shoulder at you. “You gave me a gift.”

“Oh my God. You were serious about being insufferable, huh?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie grinned, turning back to the stove. “I’ve barely even gotten started.”

You merely rolled your eyes – even though he couldn’t see it – and loosened your arms from around his waist in favour of reaching for the refrigerator handle.

Last night, there had only been yesterday’s leftovers neatly stored away in a glass container, a few vegetables, and a half-empty carton of milk.

Pretty normal for the end of the week, considering the two of you always did your grocery shopping late Sunday evening when the supermarket wasn’t nearly as busy.

Now the fridge was packed, with far more than what the two of you usually bought during your weekly trip.

“You got groceries?”

“Woke up at seven,” Eddie answered distractedly, his attention fixed on not burning another pancake. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You blinked at the shelves overflowing with food.

“Consider this my present.”

Reaching inside, you grabbed the freshly bought carton of orange juice.

“Nope.” Eddie chuckled and shot you a knowing look over his shoulder. “Nice try, babe.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“I love you to the moon and back,” he replied with a grin as he turned off the stove. “Now, what do you want on your pancakes?”

You had barely pushed the refrigerator door shut when Eddie’s hands found you.

Well, your stomach.

He hadn’t even looked up when he asked the question.

“Eddie,” you deadpanned.

“Chocolate chips?” he asked your belly, pushing the fabric of your – his – shirt and absentmindedly drawing soft circles against your skin.

The suggestion made you scrunch your nose.

“God, no. Can’t stand chocolate.”

Eddie finally looked up at you, a soft furrow already setting between his eyebrows. “Yesterday you were all over it.”

“Exactly. Yesterday.”

Shaking your head, you gently tried to remove his hands from your stomach. Eddie didn’t surrender without a fight, his lips immediately pulling into a dorky pout as he attempted to keep at least one hand where it was. Eventually, you won – barely.

Reaching up, you opened one of the cupboards while Eddie grabbed the plate stacked high with pancakes.

He tossed the kitchen towel over his shoulder and made his way towards the table, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Eddie gently set the plate down on the table before pulling out two chairs.

When he turned around again, ready to grab some plates and cutlery, he was met with warm streaks of sunshine spilling across your frame. The pale yellow of the early morning had given way to something warmer and deeper, something that made the strands of your hair look even softer than they already were and painted your skin in a kind of glimmering Saturday-morning carefreeness.

His brown eyes wandered over you, memorising every detail as though you might disappear if he looked away for too long.

But you didn’t; instead, you poured orange juice into your favourite mug.

“You want some?” you asked absentmindedly, already reaching for another mug before he’d even answered. “I think I want bananas on my pancakes.”

When Eddie didn’t respond, you glanced over your shoulder. You were immediately met with wide brown eyes swimming in affection and a calloused hand covering the lower half of his face.

“You okay?” you asked softly, the words barely rose above a whisper.

“Appreciating the view,” he mumbled into his hand.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” you murmured as you turned back around and poured orange juice into the second mug. “Before you know it, I’m gonna be all round and cranky.”

Eddie’s grin only widened. “Can’t wait.”

You only rolled your eyes in response.

And you were right.

It hadn’t taken long for you to become round and cranky.

Unfortunately, it had absolutely nothing to do with the pregnancy; not even a full month had passed since you’d told Eddie.

It had far more to do with the mid spring temperatures than anything else. The heat left you feeling bloated, and no matter what you chose to wear, everything felt too warm, too heavy, too fucking much. And the fact that Eddie had seemingly developed a compulsive need to keep at least one hand on your stomach whenever possible certainly didn’t help. Thin layers of sweat gathered beneath his touch, only adding to your irritation.

Actually, irritation might’ve been putting it lightly.

In the three and a half weeks since then, you’d finally managed to confirm the pregnancy with an ultrasound – which you were fairly certain Eddie had stolen and tucked into his wallet despite your repeated insistence that it belonged in a scrapbook – and the two of you had already started brainstorming ways to break the news to Wayne.

Actually, it wasn’t entirely fair to give Eddie any credit.

You had been brainstorming; Eddie had been busy with… other things.

In the span of three weeks and a half, he’d somehow managed to start looking for a storage unit so he could begin clearing out the second bedroom that had been functioning as a glorified utility room for the last three months since you’d moved in.

He’d bought not one, but two piggy banks – one for a college fund and another for general spoiling purposes, as he’d put it. Both felt entirely unnecessary considering the baby was currently the size of a freaking grape, but Eddie refused to hear a word against it.

The general spoiling purposes piggy bank already contained more money than the college fund. Eddie claimed this was because babies needed toys. You were fairly certain he was already planning on buying them a guitar.

And, of course, there was the ever-growing list of baby names he’d been scribbling down whenever inspiration struck. Inspiration, unfortunately, seemed to strike most often while listening to heavy metal.

He’d tried to pitch Ritchie again.

When you’d said no – again – and pointed out that you had no intention of naming your firstborn after his former weed dealer, he’d very gently informed you that the man’s name had actually been Rick, and that he’d meant Ritchie Blackmore.

Which had somehow led to him suggesting the absolute monstrosity that was Blackmore Munson.

You know, typical Eddie nonsense – constantly saying ridiculous things just to make your eyes roll so hard they nearly disappeared into the back of your head, pulling laughter out of you, even when you tried your best not to let him see how amused you really were.

Unfortunately, the baby names weren’t the most irritating habit he’d picked up – that honour actually belonged to his hands.

More specifically, his inability to keep them off your stomach.

Watching TV? Hands on your stomach. Waiting in line at the grocery store? Hands on your stomach. Half-asleep in bed? Somehow still hands on your stomach.

Under normal circumstances, you probably would’ve found it sweet, endearing even.

Today, however, his palm felt approximately one thousand degrees too warm.

The apartment windows stood wide open in a desperate attempt to create some sort of breeze – it wasn’t working. Not even remotely.

The air hung thick and heavy around you as you sprawled across the couch in one of Eddie’s shirts and nothing but a pair of panties underneath, fanning yourself with whatever magazine had happened to be lying closest.

Which only made it all the more unfortunate because Eddie had chosen today to become even more affectionate than he’d been all week.

Sweat gathered at the back of your neck, making the baby hairs at your nape stick unpleasantly to your skin while the television droned quietly in the background.

And Eddie’s hand had found its way back to your stomach, resting firmly on the covered skin.

You lasted approximately seven minutes before finally speaking.

“Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly, looking down at his hand while his thumb brushed absentminded circles against the fabric. “Still can’t believe it.”

“It’s ninety degrees,” you sighed, trying to remove his hand.

To no avail.

“Why are you touching me?”

Eddie’s expression immediately twisted into confusion. “Because that’s where the baby is.”

“The baby is the size of a grape.”

“A very important grape,” he replied. “A grape we made.”

You stared at him for a few more seconds before your eyes fluttered shut and a deep sigh escaped you.

Counting to five didn’t help – neither did counting to ten.

His goddamn hand was still there when you opened your eyes again.

“Okay,” you muttered. “New rule.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Any time you want to touch me, you have to pay.”

“What?”

The offence that immediately crossed his face would’ve been funny if you weren’t currently melting.

“First payment,” you pointed a finger at him while making yet another attempt to pry his hand off your stomach. “Ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” His eyes narrowed.

“Not from the grocery store.” Your eyes narrowed right back, finger still pointing at him. “From that expensive place downtown.”

“Oh, c’mon, babe.”

“I’m taking it out of that stupid spoiling piggy bank if you don’t stat moving.”

“No! You can’t do that,” he gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s baby money!”

“But the baby isn’t here yet, so it’s my money until further notice.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Who’s carrying it?” you asked, a deadpan expression firmly set on your face. “Ice cream, Munson. Now.”

“That’s extortion.”

“Say that again and I’ll marry you just to get a divorce,” you replied dryly. “And your hand is still there.”

Eddie glanced down. Sure enough, his hand remained firmly planted on your stomach.

“I won’t sign the divorce papers,” he muttered as he reluctantly pushed himself off the couch.

You narrowed your eyes.

Unfortunately, removing his hand from your stomach appeared to be physically impossible. The second you’d pushed yourself off the couch, his palm found its way right back.

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he followed you down the hallway.

“I swear to God, I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I will find other ways to touch my little grape.”

Fortunately, you’d managed to escape his touch when he disappeared into the bathroom before the two of you left the apartment. Unfortunately, he’d spent the entire drive to the ice cream parlour with one hand resting on his new favourite place.

Despite the excruciating heat, the little shop wasn’t nearly as crowded as you’d expected – which, in all honesty, improved your mood considerably. The last thing you needed was a goddamn crowd of screaming children and being forced to take one of the tables outside instead of hiding in the blessed air-conditioning.

“I’m serious, Eds,” you murmured when he finally parked the van a few feet down the street. “Stop touching me. All of Hawkins is gonna know before we even get the chance to tell Wayne.”

Eddie frowned as he switched off the engine.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled as his eyes widened. “Wayne.”

“Yeah,” you murmured dryly. “Wayne.”

Silence settled over the van. For once, Eddie’s hand actually left your stomach.

“We still haven’t figured out how we’re gonna tell him.”

The rest of Saturday had been spent brainstorming in hushed conversations, first at the ice cream parlous and later at a CVS in the next town over, just to make sure you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew.

After what felt like hours of wandering aimlessly through aisles and picking up things only to put them right back down again – nothing ever felt quite right – the two of you had finally managed to narrow it down to an armful of cheap, crappy gifts to give Wayne alongside the news.

Plus two bags full of Chinese takeout, just to be safe.

Whereas the day had begun with radiant warmth, the mid spring sun now lingered with a gentle, honeyed glow as the afternoon stretched on.

By evening, the brightness had softened, and the sky had begun to fade from a brilliant blue into softer shades of pink and purple. Thankfully, a cooler breeze had arrived quietly carrying the scent of grass and dry earth through Forest Hills while the oppressive heat melted into something far more bearable.

Which, for some reason, made Eddie believe it was perfectly acceptable for his hand to find its way back to your stomach.

That was before you shoved both bags of takeout into his arms, forcing him to let go of you once again.

While the worst of the heat had finally faded, the thin layer of sweat lingering at the nape of your neck stubbornly refused to go anywhere; the nerves of telling Wayne settling in probably weren’t helping either.

Because before either of you knew it, you were standing in front of the aluminium door of Wayne’s trailer.

After a few frantic, clumsy knocks against the metal surface, the door finally swung open.

Wayne blinked at the sight before him with suspicion slowly settling in his eyes.

Two bags overflowing with Chinese takeout dangling from Eddie’s hands – twice as much as the three of you usually ordered – and a silver-and-black gift bag hanging from yours.

The two of you simply stared back at him, which only made his eyes narrow.

“Somebody die?”

“What the hell?” Eddie frowned. “No.”

“Then why are you standing there lookin’ like that?”

“We don’t look like anything.”

“You do,” Wayne replied, pointing towards the gift bag. “What’s that?”

“A birthday present.”

“A Father’s Day present.”

You immediately shot Eddie a look, lips pursing together in a silent warning you hoped Wayne hadn’t noticed.

He absolutely had.

Wayne’s gaze drifted between the two of you before settling on the gift bag once again. Then the takeout, and then Eddie.

“Eddie. My birthday is in November.”

“Who said anything about your birthday?” he mumbled, shaking his head while trying – and failing miserably – to stop the twitching developing beneath his right eye like it always did whenever he lied to his uncle. “Are you gonna let us in or what?”

Wayne just sighed and pulled the door open wider.

You immediately headed for the kitchen, setting the gift bag on the counter before reaching into the cupboard for the familiar mismatched plates.

Meanwhile, Eddie made a very obvious effort to avoid looking directly at his uncle.

“Eddie,” Wayne tried again, the frown on his face only deepening.

“What?” His voice cracked, hand scratching at the back of his neck. “We can’t surprise you with dinner now?”

“Not when you’re bringing twice as much food as usual and a gift bag like you’re trying to distract me from the fact you crashed my truck.”

“I didn’t–”

“Tell me what’s in the goddamn gift bag.”

Eddie immediately tugged at the collar of his shirt as though it had suddenly become too tight and shot you a nervous glance.

“You tell him.”

“Eddie, it’s your uncle,” you murmured, carrying the stack of plates and cutlery towards the table.

“Exactly,” he muttered back.

Wayne’s eyes flickered between the to of you for a few more seconds before he let out a long, tired sigh.

“Jesus Christ,” Wayne muttered under his breath as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I already told her that wasn’t a good–”

“Eddie,” you hissed as you passed Wayne one of the plates. “I will kill you.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, immediately shrinking back into his chair.

He quickly busied himself with opening the plastic containers of food before shooting his uncle a glance that lasted less than a second before clearing his throat.

“Do you, uh… wanna know before or after dinner?”

Wayne stared at him. “Are you being stupid on purpose?”

“What? No,” he frowned and shook his head. “I’m not being stupid.”

“Right, my mistake,” the older man grunted as he took the cutlery from your hands. “I always forget you actually are stupid.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Eddie immediately threw his hands into the air before looking at you for support. “Are you gonna help me out here?”

“No,” you snickered as you pulled out your own chair. “I actually agree with him.”

“Unbelievable.”

No one said anything after that for a moment.

The otherwise quiet trailer was filled with nothing but the soft crinkling of plastic takeout containers and the occasional clink of serving spoons against porcelain plates.

A bead of sweat trailed unpleasantly down Eddie’s temple as he stood up to turn on the kitchen radio, apparently deciding that even static was preferable to the silence hanging over the room.

He hadn’t even bothered searching for his favourite station.

Wayne pushed another bite of food into his mouth, eyes fixed firmly on his nephew as he silently counted down the seconds until the boy finally cracked.

It didn’t take long – he hadn’t even reached five.

“Okay, fine!” Eddie suddenly blurted, pushing himself back out of his chair.

He grabbed the gift bag from the counter and marched back towards the table.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Says you,” Wayne deadpanned without missing a beat. “Not me. The guy with the actual bypass.”

Across the table, you brought another egg roll to your lips as your gaze flickered between the two men before finally settling on Wayne.

He nudged his still full plate towards the centre of the table, just enough to make room for the gift bag in front of him. One weathered hand tipped the bag towards himself while the other reached inside.

Back when you’d been wandering the aisles of CVS, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea to buy him the tacky I ❤︎⁠ My Grandpa mug to add to his ever-growing collection.

Now, however, as his icy blue eyes fixed on the stupid thing without so much as a flicker of emotion crossing his face, it suddenly felt ridiculous. Too simple, and too fucking obvious.

“What?”

“Hey, that was my reaction too! Heh…” Eddie’s nervous laugh died almost as quickly as it had appeared, and he immediately tugged at the collar of his shirt again.

Wayne’s brain seemed to finally remember that blinking was, in fact, necessary for the health of his eyeballs, although his gaze remained firmly fixed on the mug.

“There’s, uh…” Eddie leaned across the table, reaching for the mug.

“Don’t you dare touch my goddamn mug, boy.”

The small trailer had gone quiet once again. The silence that settled over the table was so thick it nearly drowned out the soft hum of the kitchen radio as the two of you waited for Wayne to catch up.

His eyes flickered between the mug and the ultrasound tucked inside it.

Then, finally–

“You’re giving me a baby?”

“Technically,” Eddie immediately jumped in, “she’s giving me a baby.”

Wayne shot him a look. “I’m not talking to you. Mind your business.”

“You know what? Fair.”

Snickering quietly, you brushed your hands together beneath the table, trying to rid your fingers of the lingering grease from the egg roll.

It took another few seconds to finish chewing and swallow before you finally managed to find your voice.

“Surprise,” you murmured softly, unable to come up with anything better.

Blue eyes wandered across your face, searching for any sign that you might be joking. When he couldn’t find one, his gaze dropped back to the mug in his hands and finally settled on the ultrasound picture tucked inside.

Which had, in turn, confirmed your suspicions that Eddie had stolen the original after he’d mysteriously produced it from his wallet at the copy machine.

Wayne’s thumb brushed softly over the blurry black-and-grey image that, to an untrained eye, didn’t really look like much of anything.

“Are you serious?”

His gaze flickered between you and Eddie, going back and forth, over and over again. Until it finally settled on his nephew and lingered there far longer than Eddie would’ve liked.

“As a heart attack,” he replied.

“Please stop making heart attack jokes,” you murmured, a small furrow settling between your eyebrows.

Eddie dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, his attention already fixed back on his uncle.

And there it was – the dreaded look.

“God, no,” Eddie groaned, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

Wayne blinked. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he sighed, peeking through the gaps between his fingers. “You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The proud thing.”

Wayne stared at him. “The proud thing?” he repeated slowly.

“That’s what I said.”

A look of genuine disbelief crossed Wayne’s face.

“Boy, what the hell are you talking about?”

You merely snickered and reached into one of the paper bags, stealing another egg roll while the two men continued staring at each other across the table.

Eddie, who continued hiding behind his ringed hand, had started bouncing his leg beneath the table the longer Wayne kept looking at him.

When you’d placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to calm him down, his own had immediately found its way back to your stomach, his thumb automatically started tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your shirt.

So much for personal space.

“You know,” Wayne started, finally tearing his eyes away from the ultrasound, “for someone who claims he hates attention, you’ve spent the last ten minutes making this entirely about yourself.”

“Well, I mean…” Eddie began, finally lowering his hand to the table. “It is kinda ‘bout me.”

“No, it ain’t,” Wayne replied immediately. His gaze drifted back to the ultrasound picture in his hand. “She’s doin’ all the work.”

Eddie stared at him for a moment before slowly narrowing his eyes. A single finger rose to point accusingly across the table.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m stealing money outta your wallet for the piggy banks for being mean to me.”

Wayne blinked, angling his head like it would somehow make him understand. “The what?”

You immediately groaned. “Please,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Don’t get him started.”

“Started on what?”

“The piggy banks.”

“Piggy banks?”

Eddie immediately sat up straighter in his chair – which instantly filled you with a mixture of dread and annoyance. The exact opposite reaction you’d been hoping for tonight.

“Okay, so–”

In between bites of rapidly cooling Chinese takeout, Eddie launched into a twenty-minute explanation about the importance of both piggy banks, passionately arguing why each one was absolutely necessary.

Neither you nor Wayne were convinced.

Well – Wayne was kinda convinced about the college fund.

That was before he’d learned the spoiling piggy already contained twice as much money.

“Boy, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Because it’s true.”

The rest of the evening slipped by in soft laughter, half-finished cartons of takeout, and increasingly terrible dad jokes that Eddie insisted were important to start practicing.

Neither of you had the energy to stop him.

If you’d thought the late spring heatwave that had swept through Hawkins was unbearable, you definitely hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for summer quietly arriving.

Before you’d even realised it, the oppressive heat had given way to longer evenings, open windows, even more sweat, and the constant chirping of cicadas outside the apartment.

And somewhere along the way, the baby had stopped being the size of grapes and apples and had started looking suspiciously like an actual baby.

Which, according to Eddie, was both the coolest and most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed in all his twenty-three– soon to be twenty-four – years of existence.

More importantly, it meant your stomach had officially started to round out.

Not enough that nothing fit anymore, but enough to make your collection of tank tops unbearably tight, which forced you to wear Eddie’s instead – which didn’t help much, considering he had a strict affinity for anything black.

That was, whenever he wasn’t actively begging you to stay in only your bra until you eventually gave in.

Pale yellow streaks of sunlight spilled through the window on one of the rare Friday mornings Eddie wasn’t needed at work, spreading across the thin blanket draped over your legs – lower than it had been when you’d gone to bed the night before.

The gentle circles being drawn on your stomach slowly pulled you from your restful sleep until you blinked lazily at the curly-haired man lying beside you.

“Morning,” you whispered, your voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Morning, mama,” Eddie whispered back, flickering his eyes up to yours.

The sunlight lightened his dark brown eyes into a beautiful shade of burnt orange, pulling you in and drowning you in the softest sea of caramel.

“What time is it?”

“A little over seven,” he answered, still drawing gentle circles on your skin while his eyes remained fixed on yours.

“Why are you awake?”

A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you lazily rubbing at one of your eyes while your eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you for too long,” he whispered, pulling a disbelieving chuckle from you. “You’re a goddess, you know that?”

Although you’d rolled your eyes at him, the smile creeping onto your lips and the glimmer in your eyes when you finally looked back at him betrayed you.

He leaned down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead before reluctantly pushing himself out of bed.

“Come back,” you whined.

“Getting the camera,” he replied over his shoulder as he made his way towards the dresser. “Don’t move.”

Eddie pushed his bangs away from his eyes as he stepped back towards the bed, camera already in hand.

“Eds, I look disgusting,” you groaned.

“Hey now,” he muttered from behind the viewfinder as he shifted around in search of a better angle. “You’re talking about the mother of my child. Don’t be mean.”

You only groaned louder and turned your face away.

Which, unfortunately, made an excited nose escape Eddie when the movement brought your stomach further into the sunlight.

“There it is,” he whispered.

It had become one of his favourite things to do lately – almost rivalling his obsession with keeping a hand on your stomach.

Taking pictures – of you, the bump, the blurry ultrasound photos taped to the fridge, tiny baby clothes splayed over the couch. He’d somehow turned it into a weekly ritual – sometimes even a daily one.

The sale on disposable cameras at CVS last week certainly hadn’t helped.

“Are you done?” you asked softly, finally turning back to look at him. “I wanna cuddle.”

“Just one more, sweetheart,” he murmured as he stepped closer.

The wooden bedframe creaked beneath his weight as his knees sank into the mattress. He shuffled forward until he was close enough to rest his free hand against your bump.

The heavy silver rings adorning his fingers sparkled beneath the warm morning light, pretty and almost ethereal in a way that made him hope the camera would somehow be able to capture it.

After the familiar click echoed through the bedroom, he finally set the camera aside on the nightstand and immediately sank back into the mattress. His hand remained splayed across your stomach as he tucked himself against your side, nose brushing softly along your throat.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he whispered, pressing a trail of soft kisses against your neck.

“So I’ve noticed,” you chuckled, threading your fingers through his curls.

A content hum rumbled in his chest at the feeling. “Can you blame me?”

Eddie continued pressing soft kisses along your neck, his nose brushing against your skin as he trailed up and down.

“You’re the epitome of eternal radiance and grace, sweetheart.”

“If you’re trying to turn me on,” you sighed contentedly, tilting your head to give him better access when his mouth found the spot just beneath your ear, “it’s definitely working.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled against your skin.

Planting one last kiss against your jaw, he pushed himself up with one hand braced beside your head. His messy bed hair cascaded around your face as his eyes slowly wandered across your features.

“But, as much as I’d love to eat you out first thing in the morning,” he started, a grin already tugging at the corners of his lips, “we can’t.”

“Ugh,” you groaned immediately.

“Gotta get ready for the ultrasound, babe.”

“You’re such a party pooper.”

It took everything in Eddie’s willpower not to give in to the pout that immediately settled on your lips.

His breath fanned softly across your face as he chuckled before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. Then, with considerable reluctance, he pushed himself off the bed.

“Just so you know,” you murmured, throwing an arm over your eyes, “I’m holding this over your head all weekend.”

“Lighten up, mama,” he grinned over his shoulder as he headed towards the bedroom door. “We’re about to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Despite yourself, a small tugged at your lips.

Damn him. He knew exactly how to win an argument.

While you’d spent another ten minutes lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, the apartment had gradually filled with the clinking of kitchen appliances as Eddie busied himself making breakfast – something he’d started doing more often lately despite your repeated insistence that you were more than capable of making your own PB&J.

Every single time, he’d shoot you a glare and mutter something along the lines of you’re already doing enough baking in there, or some other stupid thing.

Only when the heavenly scent of scrambled eggs drifted down the hallway and into the bedroom did you finally decide to drag yourself out of bed.

Thankfully, the morning had decided to give you a brief break from the relentless summer heat – and, by extension, a break from feeling sticky and irritable every waking moment. Soft grey clouds hung over Hawkins, blanketing the town beneath a cool overcast sky.

Low murmuring spilled from the television as you stepped into the kitchen. Eddie stood by the stove, scraping the bottom of the pan while only half-paying attention to whatever the local weatherman was rambling for the upcoming weekend.

“Do we have any jam?”

“Uh…” Eddie pondered out loud as he turned off the stove. “I don’t think so. But we’ve got jelly?”

“Ugh, no,” you said, shaking your head with clear disdain as you sat down at the table. “I want scrambled eggs with jam, not jelly.”

Eddie leaned against the tiled counter and blinked at you in silence.

Then he slowly licked his lips, tossed the kitchen towel over his shoulder, and turned around to grab the plates without saying a word.

“I can hear your judgment from here, y’know,” you murmured as you took the plates from him once he’d made it to the table.

“My head is empty,” he replied. “I’m literally incapable of thinking.”

“And were exactly was that incapability when we were discussing names yesterday?”

Ready to fire back a smart remark, Eddie opened his mouth – only to immediately close it again.

“No comment.”

“Mhmm.”

By the time the two of you had cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, Eddie had started to feel the familiar buzz of excitement building beneath his skin, and he’d been able to stop bouncing on his heels the entire time you’d been getting ready.

In fact, you were fairly certain that if it hadn’t been for the stairs leading down from the apartment and the short walk to the van, he’d still be pacing around like a child on a sugar rush.

The anticipation had started as a small flutter in the pit of his stomach before tightening into a knot. Then it spread – across his chest, and down his arms, all the way to his fingertips. Until it was impossible for him to sit still. Impossible to focus on anything for more than five seconds. Every time he tried, his mind immediately wandered back to the appointment waiting for him–

For the two of you.

By now, you barely even noticed when his hand found its way to your stomach. It had become second nature; as natural as reaching for your hand or tucking you against his side. And judging by the absentminded circles his thumb continued to trace through the fabric of your shirt as the two of you made your way towards the van, Eddie didn’t seem to notice it anymore either.

The drive to the clinic had been filled with nervous rambling on Eddie’s end and the occasional attempt on yours to convince him that no, the baby was not going to magically change sex between not and the appointment.

Not that he listened.

By the time the two of you stepped through the sliding glass door, his excitement had somehow only doubled.

The waiting room wasn’t particularly crowded, much to your relief. A few magazine had been scattered across the coffee table in the middle of the room while the soft hum of an air conditioner fought against the summer heat outside.

Eddie’s leg had immediately started bouncing the moment he’d sat down, and it hadn’t stopped since.

“You’re making me nervous,” you murmured as you nudged his knee with yours.

“I’m making you nervous?” he scoffed. “You’re the one growing a whole person.”

You opened your mouth to reply, only for a nurse to appear in the doorway. Your name had barely left her lips before he was already standing.

“Subtle,” you muttered under your breath as you pushed yourself out of the chair.

“I am being subtle.”

“You stood up before she finished saying my last name.”

“Remind me to change that.”

“Change what?”

“Your last name.”

The nurse’s lips twitched as she guided the two of you down the hallway. A few turns later, she pushed open one of the examination room doors and motioned for you to head inside.

The room itself wasn’t particularly remarkable – pale walls, a sink in the corner surrounded by a few cabinets, the ultrasound machine standing beside the examination table.

Eddie’s eyes immediately fixed on the machine, and you were fairly certain he hadn’t blinked in at least thirty seconds.

“Alright,” the nurse smiled as she glanced over your chart. “If you could just hop up on the table for me.”

While she finished getting everything ready, Eddie hovered nearby like an overly excited golden retriever.

By the time the nurse had adjusted the machine and finished typing a few things into the computer, Eddie had managed to bounce his leg enough times to shake the entire chair.

“There we go,” she smiled as she pulled away from the keyboard. “The doctor will be right in.”

As soon as the door clicked softly shut behind her, silence settled over the room.

Well, mostly silence – because the second the door closed, Eddie started fidgeting again.

Ever the gentleman – or annoyance, depending on who you asked – he’d insisted on carrying your bag. Said bag still hung from one of his shoulders, and his hand had somehow found its way inside.

“Please don’t tell me–”

“That I brought the camera?” Eddie finished for you, pulling the yellow disposable camera from the bag. “C’mon, mama. You know me better than that.”

“Eddie,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “The clinic gives us pictures.”

“Yeah,” he replied and looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “of the baby.”

Dark brown eyes dropped to the disposable camera turning slowly between his fingers, lingering there for a few seconds before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I wanna remember you too.”

The way he looked at you when he finally lifted his gaze made your stomach feel funny, in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the baby.

It reminded you of the nearly days of your relationship. Back when you were stupid teenagers with too much time on your hands and far too many feelings you didn’t quite know what to do with; back when the future felt impossibly far away.

“I’m carrying your child,” you pointed a finger at him, a pout already forming on your lips. “You’re legally not allowed to make me cry.”

Eddie’s face immediately fell at the sight of your trembling finger pointed in his direction.

“No, no, no,” he panicked, nearly dropping the stupid camera as he hurried to his feet and crossed the small distance between you. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“Now I feel bad,” you admitted quietly, finally letting your hand fall back into your lap. “I just keep complaining about it, and I’ve barely taken any pictures of you.”

Eddie didn’t let you wallow in your guilt for long, and immediately wrapped his arms around you, gently pulling your face against his chest.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It really is,” he murmured against the top of your head, pressing soft kisses between his words. “We still have, what? Twenty-three more weeks to take pictures before they’re here?”

You shifted awkwardly on the examination table so you could free one arm from his embrace and slide your fingers through his curls. Eddie continued pressing gentle kisses against your hairline while one hand moved slowly up and down your back in that familiar way that somehow always managed to calm you faster than anything else.

“But–”

“No buts,” he interrupted softly, tightening his arms around you. “I won’t hear it.”

He pulled back just enough for his eyes to wander across your face, searching for any sign that you were about to argue with him. Finding none, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he gave you an accompanying squeeze. “Or I’ll start taking pictures of you crying.”

“Then we’ll both be crying,” you scowled. “Because I will slap you.”

“A family that cries together, stays together.”

“I hate you.”

“And I’m obsessed with you,” he grinned.

The soft knock against the door cut through the room before either of you could say anything else.

The doctor stepped inside a second later, greeting the two of you before rolling over to the machine beside the examination table. While she glanced over your chart and exchanged a few routine questions, Eddie had somehow managed to grab your hand again.

Not that you minded; at this point, it would’ve been more surprising if he wasn’t touching you in.

“Alrighty,” the doctor smiled after a moment. “Let’s take a look at this little one, hm?”

The cold gel immediately pulled a flinch from you.

“Oh, that’s awful.”

She laughed softly as she moved the transducer across your stomach.

For a few moments, neither of you really understood what you were looking at. The screen filled with blurry shades of black, white, and grey.

Then the doctor pointed. “There’s the head.”

“What?” Eddie immediately leaned forward, squinting his eyes like an old man without his glasses.

“The round part.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows pulled together as he kept staring at the blurry screen. “Oh.”

The second one sounded different, softer, like something had finally clicked. His hand tightened around yours, not enough to hurt but enough for you to notice.

“That’s our baby,” he whispered.

The awe in his voice made something warm settle in your chest.

The doctor continued pointing things out – tiny hands, tiny feet, the steady flutter of a heartbeat. Every time she pointed something out, Eddie’s eyes widened a little more. You, on the other hand, had gone completely still.

Your head had gradually lulled to the side as your eyes remained fixed on the screen, and the corners of your lips had softened into the smallest smile. One that seemed completely unaware of itself.

For a moment, Eddie found himself looking away from the screen, and for just a second, he let his gaze drift across your face.

The wonder in your eyes. The sunlight filtering through the blinds behind you. The way your fingers instinctively tightened around his whenever the baby moved. Something warm squeezed around his heart.

And then he remembered – the camera.

Eddie carefully reached for the forgotten camera beside you without taking his eyes off you, while you continued staring at the screen, occasionally nodding along as the doctor continued talking.

His fingers tightened around the hard plastic, though he didn’t bring it to his eye just yet. He wanted to memorise the moment fist. Then, when your smile widened at whatever the doctor had just explained – too lost in thought for him to pay attention himself – he finally lifted the camera.

If the click had been subtle enough beneath the steady heartbeat filling the room, the flash certainly wasn’t, and you immediately snapped your head towards him.

“Eddie.” The warning in your voice would’ve been far more effective if your eyes weren’t still suspiciously shiny. “Why are you taking pictures? We’re looking at our baby.”

“I know.” His eyes softened as they flickered between you and the screen. “Wanted to take your first picture together.”

Something warm settled in your chest.

“Would you like to know?” the doctor asked softly.

“What?” Eddie’s grip on your hand immediately tightened, as though he was suddenly terrified he’d missed something important.

The doctor’s smile widened. “The gender.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips; the man had spent the entire morning vibrating with excitement. But now? Now that the moment had finally arrived, he looked seconds away from puking up breakfast and passing out.

Noticing he wasn’t capable to say anything, you gently squeezed Eddie’s hand and gave the doctor a small nod.

The transducer moved slightly from side to side while she studied the screen for a moment.

“Congratulations,” her eyes flickered between the two of you. “Looks like you’re having a girl.”

Silence – complete, utterly deafening silence.

Eddie’s brain seemed to short-circuit entirely while his gaze remained fixed on the blurry screen, wide and unmoving.

“Oh no.”

Your face fell. “What?”

“Oh no,” Eddie repeated, sounding just as small and distracted as before. “This is bad.”

“Eddie?”

“You’re gonna have to duel her for my attention,” he whispered.

The doctor snorted, visible relief taking over her face while yours twisted in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” You smacked him on the arm. “You can’t just scare me like that.”

“I’m being serious,” he murmured, finally blinking. “You are absolutely gonna have to fight her for my attention.”

“She’s not even born yet.”

“I know. And it’s only gonna get worse from now on.”

Eddie had demanded – more like begged, although he liked to think otherwise – the doctor print multiple copies of the ultrasound pictures because, in his words, the copy machine at CVS sucks, and he wanted to give better-quality photos to his dad.

He had completely ignored when you’d hissed his name and told him to stop embarrassing you.

Second-hand embarrassment and excited squeals aside, the trip to the hardware store had started pleasantly enough.

That was until Eddie spotted the paint samples and immediately reached for the brightest shade his eyes landed on.

“Pink,” he announced firmly.

“Absolutely not.” You looked up from the collection of green swatches in your hand. “We are not painting the nursery pink.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll look like a bubblegum factory exploded,” you explained, lips pursed and nose scrunched.

“That’s the point, sweetheart.”

“Okay, mister non-conformity.”

He huffed dramatically and somehow managed to pick up an even brighter shade – the kind that had a name that made absolutely no sense and physically hurt to look at.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve spent the last ten years telling everyone that black and demons are personality traits, and now you’re suddenly campaigning for… Ballet Slipper walls.”

“Because I’m having a daughter,” he immediately shot back, shrugging like it made perfect sense. “And daughters like pink.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Society says you do.”

“Remind me,” you sighed and arched an eyebrow at him, “since when do you listen to society?”

Eddie’s mouth immediately snapped shut, eyes narrowing before he eventually drifted back to the offensive shades of pink and picked another ridiculous shade. Sugar Baby, or whatever the hell it was.

“Green isn’t even a baby colour,” he muttered under his breath as he inspected the shade.

“It absolutely is,” you replied, holding up one of the darker paint samples. “Are you gonna tell me that dragon scales green wouldn’t be a pretty good colour for her nursery?”

The deep furrow that had settled between his eyebrows immediately disappeared the second he heard the word dragon.

And suddenly, Eddie found himself at a complete loss for words.

You’d never seen him reach for something so fast – not even that one time you’d accidentally discovered the R-rated metal magazine hidden beneath his bed.

“Gimme that damn thing,” he murmured quietly, snatching the paint sample from your hand. His eyes immediately fixed on the dark shade. “Dragon scales green?”

“Mhmm.”

“For out little dragon?”

“For the fierce little girl who’ll duel me to death for your attention.”

It took exactly three glances between you and the paint swatch for him to make up his mind.

“Okay.”

You blinked slowly as you watched him put back the pink swatches.

“That’s all it took?”

“Sweetheart,” he said, already making his way towards the paint counter, “you should’ve let with the dragon.”

A grin tugged at your lips as you followed after him, shaking your head at his stupidity.

“Five minutes ago you said green wasn’t a baby colour.”

“Five minutes ago I hadn’t heard the vision.”

“The vision?”