Love for Two (part 2)
Steve Harrington x Female Reader
You finally got pregnant. The feeling was odd. Through all ups and downs, Steve was right there by your side
Tags: romance, fluff, domestic fluff, domestic bliss, pregnancy and all that comes with it, comfort
Part 1
A/N: This... took... FOREVER. But I did it! I finished it! Enjoy!
Read on ao3
Masterlist
The smell of rubbing alcohol paired with the buzzing noise of the ceiling lamp made you anxious. You sat on the plush chair, fisting the edge of your t- shirt that you ‘borrowed’ from Steve. Your right knee bounced as you bobbed your head to the beat of your favorite song. Your husband stood next to you. His foot tapped impatiently, clearly showing away his nervousness as well.
“Are you sure it was okay for you to take a day off?” You asked to fill the tense silence.
“Absolutely,” Steve replied without an ounce of hesitation. He bent slightly and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace. Your face buried into his soft stomach, and Steve’s scent instantly filled your nostrils. “Gavin was more than happy to take my shift. Plus, I would never want to miss the first meeting with our baby.”
You bit your lip as you subconsciously palmed your still non-existent bump. The anticipation, anxiety, and the weight of your pregnancy, everything grew more and more overwhelming. The more emotional part of your brain couldn’t help but overthink. What if you weren’t cut out to be a mother? What if something, anything, went wrong? Panic simmered in the pit of your stomach, quiet and ready. Yet, the warmth radiating from the love of your life felt grounding and comforting.
“Hey, look at me,” Steve said as he kneeled before you. It seemed as though he physically sensed your unease and swooped in to save the day as he always did. Your eyes locked and you nearly melted with how much love and adoration Steve gazed upon you. “We’re about to see our child for the first time. Aren’t you happy?”
You were happy. Extremely so. A soft smile made its way onto your face at the memory when you broke the news to Steve.
That day, in the confines of your bathroom, your heart pounded in your ears. You stared at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands, unsure whether to believe it or not. You? A mother? Of course, you’d been trying for a baby; however, seeing two pink lines made things feel… real.
When Steve returned from work, you ran into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, overwhelmed at the surge of emotions. Happiness, fear, anxiety, anticipation, all mixed in a whirlwind that you unleashed on your poor, panicking husband. And when Steve finally noticed the pregnancy test in your hands… safe to say, your emotional lover gladly joined you in weeping.
You looked at Steve. His hand on your knee, thumb drawing small, soothing circles. His lips were chapped from how often he bit them, yet his eyes were filled with nothing but love and adoration. It anchored you. Knowing that such a man was by your side in such an important moment calmed your nerves significantly. You took a deep breath and smiled. You palmed his hand on your knee and squeezed it lightly.
“Let’s meet our baby.”
As if on cue, the door of the OBGYN your cousin recommended opened with a slight creak. A woman, probably in her forties, popped out, a file in hand, and eyes big and analyzing. ‘Linda Williams’ was written on the badge pinned to her chest. She looked around the room before calling out, “Mrs. Harrington?”
“Let’s go,” Steve put a chaste kiss on your forehead and stood up. He offered you his hand like a true gentleman, and you two followed the doctor into the room.
The door closed with a gentle thud. Immediately, you noticed a navy blue examination couch and a big screen hanging next to it. The walls were covered in various pictures of pregnancy stages, posters filled with lists of vitamins and exercise recommendations, and portraits of adorable newborns that made your heart soar in anticipation.
“Please sit here,” the woman commanded, gesturing toward the examination couch. “Is it your first baby?”
“It is,” you breathed out shakily, almost as if saying it out loud made things more real. Steve stood beside you, a hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded.
“You’re probably excited,” her eyes softened. She looked at you with the look of a mother and smiled. “I have a son too.”
“How old is he?” The question was more out of politeness, yet you were grateful for the small talk. Now the room didn’t seem that scary.
“He just turned 11 last month,” Linda chuckled. The lightheaded conversation almost distracted you from the sound of rubber gloves. “He’s a little rascal, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”
Your hand unknowingly went to your stomach, and you glanced at your husband. The feelings that gradually blossomed in your chest were similar, and you could already see how much Steve already loved your unborn child.
“Alright, Mrs. Harrington, I have your test results right here,” the woman’s voice was calm and calculating yet again as she flipped through your file. “Everything looks good, so I’ll prescribe you just the standard vitamins.”
“Will I need a lot?” You asked, slightly concerned. Steve quickly held your hand.
“Oh, absolutely,” the doctor exclaimed with a sigh. Linda plopped onto the round chair before the ultrasound screen. “As the baby grows, it takes all the nutrients from the mother. So to sustain both your and your baby’s health, you need plenty of supplements.”
“Sounds expensive…” You whispered, doubt slowly creeping into your brain.
“Hey, hey, hey, none of that,” Steve quickly grabbed your attention. His hand dropped to squeeze your palm reassuringly as he bent down to look you in the eye. “Money is not for you to worry about. We’ll buy everything we need, okay? Your health is the number one priority.”
“He’s right,” Linda chimed in. “The baby will develop poorly if you don’t take care of your own health, so it’s very important.”
You pursed your lips into a thin line. However, the look of sheer determination on your husband’s face put you at ease, even if just slightly.
“Alright, shall we take a peek in the oven?” Linda grinned and grabbed the bottle of gel. “Lie down and lift your shirt.”
You complied. Your fingers dug into the edges of your t-shirt, fisting it to quell your nerves. The woman popped the bottle cap open and squeezed a big blob on your skin. The coldness made you flinch and shudder. She grabbed the transducer and began methodically gliding the instrument over your stomach.
“So?” Steve asked impatiently. He stood behind the doctor, arms crossed over his chest, and fingers tapping nonstop against his forearm.
“Patience, Dad,” Linda reprimanded him rather quickly. She moved the transducer across your abdomen, eyes glued to the black and white screen.
And then… the woman melted into a wide grin.
“There’s your little bun.”
Your head whipped toward the screen so fast, you could almost feel something pop. Eyes wide like those of a doe as you stared at the obscure image. You didn’t even know what you were searching for, yet you kept scanning every pixel for any indication of your child.
Linda traced a spot with her finger, circling it for you to focus on. “Look here. This is your baby.”
“He’s so… small,” Steve breathed out. His clenched fist over his erratically beating heart as he grinned dreamily. “Unbelievable…”
Your breath hitched. Tears came to her eyes at the sight. It was weird. Just a screen of white noise with a black crooked circle in the middle. And there, at the bottom of this circle, was a grey spot. It looked the size of a date, small and wobbly. But you could see it as clear as the afternoon sky. It was there. Real and everything. Your child.
*~*~*
First came the morning sickness. It happened around the 7th week when suddenly the smell of chinese takeout forced the contents of your stomach to spill out.
It was so sudden, too. Your husband was on his way home, so you decided to order from your favorite restaurant. You ordered all your favorites, then sat on the couch, waiting with excitement for a delicious dinner. The food arrived rather quickly. You grabbed the bags, paid the delivery boy, and began unpacking the chicken in garlic sauce. You barely even opened the box, and the next thing you knew, you sprinted into the bathroom, then held onto the toilet as if your life depended on it.
The sounds you released sounded tortured, and the smell of processed food clung to your clothes instantly. Your throat felt tight and raw. Your breath ragged as you kept spitting the remnants of the vomit.
Once the toilet was flushed, you settled on the floor, your back against the cold tiles. The nasty taste of bile irritated you, yet you couldn’t find any strength to get up and brush your teeth. So you sat on the tiled floor, breathing heavily, while your palm softly caressed your stomach. “Whyyy? Why the chinese out of everything?” You groaned out loud.
Then, you heard the front door open.
“I’m home!” Steve called out from the corridor. “Mmm, I smell chinese food.”
You were about to push yourself off the floor when you suddenly realized—the whole apartment now reeked off chinese food. Your only shield was the bathroom door that you slammed closed in your haste. If it were to open, you knew you were bound for another round of barfing.
“Honey? Where are you?”
“In the bathroom!” You replied as you finally rose to your feet. Then you grabbed the toothbrush to get rid of the disgusting taste in your mouth. “Could you put away the food and air out the rooms, please? Oh, and don’t open the door unless you do!”
“What? Why?” Steve’s voice sounded much closer this time. He already stood outside, ready to barge in, in case you were in any kind of danger.
“It’s the smell. It makes me nauseous,” you offered a quick reply before showing the toothbrush in your mouth. The taste of mint soothed your taste buds.
“Oh? But you love chine– Ohhh…” Steve drawled, finally connecting the dots. “Okay, love, uhh… gimme a few minutes. I uhmm I’ll give it to our neighbors and then get us… pizza?”
“Sounds great. Love you!” You mumbled and swished the foam around into every stubborn corner.
Oh, how grateful you were to have such a thoughtful partner.
Then came the fatigue.
It started around the same time as the morning sickness. Your energy was constantly drained, even after a full night’s sleep. No matter where you were, if you sat or lay down, a few minutes in, you’d start snoozing.
Having lunch at work, the chatter would lull you to sleep, as you leaned your head against the cool table. Thankfully, your coworker found you before your boss did and shook you awake frantically.
Snuggling with Steve turned into a sure way of putting you to sleep momentarily. The warmth and security radiating from your husband, paired with raging hormones, worked too well at pulling you into the dreamland. If before you could stay awake for hours, talking about anything that came to mind, now, the moment your head touched Steve’s chest, you were gone to the world. If you weren’t pregnant, you’d think you had developed some form of narcolepsy.
Ginger tea became your best friend. Every morning, your husband dutifully brewed a fresh jar of tea with slices of actual ginger cut up in it. It was his idea in the first place, one you had no idea where he even got from. Not like it mattered much, not when it helped keep the fatigue and nausea at bay.
It didn’t take long for you to get used to the idea of a child. By the end of the first trimester, you had already begun thinking of names.
“How about… Melissa? Or Ella?” Your husband inquired as you two lay in bed, and only the gentle yellow bed light illuminated the room. Steve snuggled to your side, his arm serving as your pillow, while his other hand softly caressed your stomach under your nightgown.
“Ella? You’re that sure it’s a girl?” You chuckled and squeezed Steve’s hand on your stomach.
“I’m sure,” he replied with the utmost confidence as he nuzzled into your cheek. “She’s gonna be beautiful like you, kind like you, smart like you.”
“Will she have anything of yours at all?” You giggled and leaned up to kiss his nose.
“Of course,” Steve uttered as though stating the obvious fact. He wiggled his head as much as the position allowed him to, as a poor attempt at tossing his hair. “My gorgeous mane.”
The performative tone elicited a laugh out of you. One that flowed freely and bounced off the walls. You snuggled closer to your husband and sighed contentedly. Your heart felt full in such a tender moment. “With a dad like you, I know she or he will grow, without a doubt, into an incredible person.”
And then, you were hit with mood swings. It wasn’t a gradual descent like you hoped it would be, but a sudden drop headfirst into madness.
Anything, small or big, was enough to tick you off. And not even you knew in what direction your hormones would take you. One moment, you were simply doing the grocery shopping, the next, you were bawling because the store had run out of your favorite chocolate bars. The store clerk, a young teenage boy who probably picked up the job to earn money for college, panicked so hard that he started crying with you.
Or when some lady at McDonald’s accidentally spilled her soda on you, you unleashed the power of a thousand suns, berating the woman until Steve pulled you out of the store. And then you redirected your anger at your husband while he drove you two home. The utter embarrassment that washed over you once you calmed down was enough to make you cry again.
You had no idea how Steve could power through all your hysteria, but you were eternally grateful for him.
When you first noticed the growing baby bump, you nearly fainted from the surge of emotions.
It was an ordinary Saturday morning. You had invited your immediate family and friends to a restaurant to finally announce your pregnancy. You kept it a secret for weeks, wanting to savour the feeling as much as possible. It was fairly easy to hide it, too. Gaining weight? Just bloated. Feeling nauseous? Probably ate something bad. Low energy? Didn’t get enough sleep.
But right as you were about to enter the second trimester, you decided to finally let your friends and family in on a secret.
It took you a while to settle on a dress. You kept digging through the various choices you had purchased over the years. Though in the end, you had chosen your favorite, the one you wore to your and Steve’s first date. You pulled off your t-shirt that was actually the one you had graciously stolen from your husband, and put on the bra. A sigh fell from your lips at the thought of your breasts going up the size, thus forcing you to buy new bras. Your pants were next to join the abovementioned piece of garment on the chair. You swayed to the soft tune coming from the radio. However, as you walked past the full-height mirror, you froze.
It didn’t quite register in your mind what exactly you were looking at. Your body, though maybe a bit plumper, looked roughly the same. You gazed upon your reflection, eyes grazing over your figure.
Then you saw it.
It was small, almost unnoticeable—the soft roundness to your abdomen.
You caressed your stomach almost reverently. Your fingers trembled, breath hitched as you continuously grazed the skin.
Your… Your baby. The little life you and Steve created.
A sob broke out of your chest as you ran out of the room and straight to the bathroom. You pulled the door open a bit too hastily, startling your husband so hard that he nearly snapped his favorite comb in half. Steve immediately caught on the loud sobs and your red face. Cold panic overtook him as he rushed to your side.
“What is it?! Are you okay?! Is it the baby?!”
You couldn’t speak. Your tongue felt as though it was tangled. At this point, you couldn’t tell whether you were weeping or laughing anymore. Instead, you grabbed his hand and pressed it gently to your abdomen. You guided Steve’s palm across your lower stomach, urging him to feel the baby bump for the first time.
“Whoa…” Steve sighed in wonder. His hand now freely wandered against your exposed skin. He could feel your growing child, and his heart almost exploded. “She’s growing.”
“Our baby, Steve,” you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, still sniffling occasionally.
Safe to say, you were late for dinner that day.
Things had calmed down by week 14, more or less. While some food and scents could still make you nauseous, the morning sickness ceased significantly, something you were eternally grateful for. Your sleep schedule evened out, and you felt more energized, ready to topple the world. Still, another symptom had caught up to you almost instantly.
The infamous pregnancy cravings.
Poor Steve. Those two words crossed your mind every time you sent your husband a message with either a plea or a demand to bring whatever odd options your pregnant self could think of. It ranged from pickles and mayo to tuna with strawberry jam. It was weird, you didn’t even like tuna. Yet, you craved it so much that you lost sleep.
You lied in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling and the way the moonlight illuminated every little dip and bump. The arrow on the wall clock pointed at 1 p.m. Steve had long passed out beside you, but you were awake. Painfully awake. Your stomach growled in protest, and any time you closed your eyes, you saw tuna. The image was so vivid, you could almost taste it.
You tossed and turned, working overtime to repel the thought of the stupid fish and get some sleep, but nothing worked. You tried thinking of a happy place. Your mind wandered to the beach, the sound of waves, and the gritty feeling of warm sand slipping through your fingers. However, there, in the salty water, you saw tuna. An entire school of it, swimming about and teasing you with the shiny scales and inviting smell of its canned meat.
Your eyes snapped open, right as you were about to drool on your pillow. Your stomach growled louder.
This was ridiculous. Of course, you expected such a turn of events sometime throughout the pregnancy; yet, not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined the intensity of it.
A groan of frustration fell from your lips before you could stop it, summoning your knight from the depths of slumber.
“Honey?” Steve rasped as he pulled you closer, his palm settling on your bump almost instinctively. “You okay?”
“Yeah…” Your reply was positive, but the tone of your voice suggested that you were on the verge of tears. “It’s stupid.”
“Hmmmm, somehow I don’t believe you,” he said and nuzzled your forehead. “Wanna try again?”
You fell silent, debating whether or not you should concern your husband with such trivial matters. He had work in the morning. Now, with the baby in the way, Steve worked twice as hard. He needed sleep more than ever.
“Just say it,” Steve urged before you could spiral. His voice was firm but gentle, in the way that melted all your barriers.
“I want tuna.”
“Tuna,” Steve drawled as though unsure whether he heard you right.
“I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so hungry,” you almost whined and buried your face into his chest. You swallowed back a sob that threatened to escape at your predicament. “I want it so badly I can almost taste it.”
Steve hummed, contemplating. His sleepy mind rushed to search for a solution, as always. Always the first to think and fix. After minutes of silence, you saw Steve get out of bed and start pulling on his clothes.
“Wait, where are you going?” You asked, slightly panicked at such a turn of events.
“To the store,” your man replied as though stating the obvious. He tugged on his plain white t-shirt and grabbed the flannel that hung on the back of the chair. “The supermarket a few blocks away is open 24/7. I’m sure they have tuna.”
“Steve, it’s 1 in the morning,” you whined and sat up. Guilt bloomed in your chest that you forced your husband out of bed, and now out of the house. “You have a shift in 7 hours, get back in bed.”
“I’ll be quick, I promise,” Steve leaned in to kiss your forehead and smiled reassuringly.
And then, he left. You remained in bed, waiting (im)patiently for your husband’s return. You sat in bed, the blanket draped haphazardly over your legs. The methodical ticking of the clock slowly but surely began driving you crazy as time went on. Minutes passed, and by minute 30, you began writhing restlessly as your mind conjured up various scenarios where your husband got injured.
What if Steve got into a car accident and was now on the way to the hospital?
Or worse, he got kidnapped by the mafia?
Your eyes teared up, ready to break down, when the door opened with a soft click.
You gasped, and your ears perked up in anticipation of seeing your beloved. You could hear him rattling the dishes in the kitchen, and then, after such an incredibly long wait, Steve walked back into the room, a tray in hand with tuna presented like a 5-star dish.
The tears were back at the sight in front of you. You were overcome with emotions as Steve sat on the edge of the bed and placed the tray on your lap.
“One serving of tuna for the most gorgeous lady,” Steve grinned, clearly proud of his accomplishment. He leaned in to wipe your tears away and kissed your lips with the utmost softness.
“I love you so much,” you whined and sobbed.
At last, you finally had your fill of the annoying fish, with Steve sitting by your side and gently brushing loose hair away from your face.
When you found out the sex, Steve was over the moon.
The OBGYN office had long stopped being intimidating; now, instead, it felt more comforting and familiar. You sat on the examination couch, hands clasped together over your belly.
Steve paced all over the office in anticipation. The sound of his footsteps eventually annoyed the doctor, and Linda had to tell him off with a frown and a grin.
“So? Who is it?” Steve asked impatiently, staring at the screen as though he knew how to read it.
“Be. Patient,” Linda chuckled as she glided the transducer across our skin. “Do you have a preference?”
“Well,” you started with a smile. “It’d be great if it were a girl, but regardless, we want them to be healthy.”
“You’re doing great so far,” Linda patted your shoulder reassuringly. Then, she smiled widely and moved the screen towards you. “It’s a girl.”
As time went on, your bump grew increasingly bigger with each week. By month 7, you went on maternity leave. However, this led you to feel extremely and utterly bored as you sat at home without a single idea of things to do. So, you decided to focus on the nursery.
The knock on the front door made you perk up. You dropped the book you were reading and somehow managed to pull yourself off the sofa.
“Hey there!” Robin and your best friend, Susan, greeted you with an excited wave.
“Hi!” You went to hug both girls, mindful of the growing bump.
“So, ready to go?” Susan rubbed your belly with a dreamy sigh.
“Yeah, let’s go!”
Robin and Susan agreed to accompany you to do some shopping for the nursery. Susan drove you to the local shopping mall. Excitement surged through you at all the different ideas you had for the nursery.
You moved slowly through the nursery store, one hand resting on your belly. You paused at tiny rows of folded onesies, soft blankets, and painted cribs, laughing as your friends argued which colors would suit the baby best. Robin and Susan lifted plush toys and compared designs, holding them up to you for approval. You contemplated between a peach-colored elephant and a panda. Both plushies looked awfully cute, so, obviously, you chose both.
The soft bickering continued, while you listened, smiling, and sharing quiet hopes about the months ahead. You lingered longest in the crib section, running your fingers along smooth wooden rails and gently testing how easily each one adjusted. Your friends debated safety features and finishes, reading labels out loud while you imagined quiet nights and early mornings beside it, your expression thoughtful and tender.
Between thoughtful moments and bursts of laughter, the shopping trip felt less like an errand and more like a celebration, filled with warmth, friendship, and the growing anticipation of new life.
Your daughter was already a week overdue, and though the doctors reassured you that this was perfectly normal, especially for a first pregnancy, their calm words did little to ease your restlessness. You felt heavy, swollen, and stretched to your limits. Part of you wanted to argue, to insist that something had to change, but the exhaustion settled deeper than your frustration, leaving you too drained to do more than sigh and endure.
Your hips throbbed with a dull, unrelenting ache, and your back pulsed with constant pain that never quite faded, even when you tried to rest. Heartburn haunted every meal, and every glass of water was a risk of another slow, uncomfortable trip to the bathroom. Your daughter rarely stopped kicking. Hard and relentless. She writhed and smashed into your bladder at any given moment. Your body felt like it no longer belonged to you. It was as though you turned into nothing but an incubator for your future daughter.
Today, of all days, was extra rough on you. Yet another trip to the doctor proved to be unsuccessful when Linda told you that your child had next to no intentions of coming out. ‘It might take a few days, maybe a week,’ she said with an empathetic nod. You wanted to cheer yourself up with your favorite pastry on the way home. Unfortunately, some lady, a tall and sickly-skinny woman behind you in the line, decided that she had the right to scold you in front of everyone for eating unhealthy foods in your condition. She berated you for a solid 5 minutes as you stood there, holding a bag full of goodies, too stunned to reply.
Safe to say, the encounter put you in a foul mood for hours.
When you finally returned, you devoured the pastries one after the other, purely out of spite. And now, you sat on the bed, stomach so full of baked goods and a baby that your abdomen cramped, tears rolling down your face at the sheer exhaustion that washed over you. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you stroked your belly, desperately urging your child to finally come out of you.
When Steve came home from work, he panicked, as always. Seeing you in such a distressed state sent him spiraling. He dropped his work bag and rushed to your side. His palms were warm and soft as he cupped your face with the utmost tenderness, kneeling in front of you.
“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he whispered gently.
You hiccupped, trying to even out your breathing. “I— I’m just— So tired…” You mumbled at last. But Steve heard you perfectly. His eyes softened at your state, and he wished for nothing more than to be able to shoulder at least some of your burdens. “Everything hurts… And I just feel so— big, and bloated, and disgusting…”
“Hey, shh, please, don’t cry.” Steve sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around your frame so you could freely cry on his shoulder. He gently stroked your hair, one hand rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, while the other caressed your belly. His touch was soft, as though hoping to calm down your daughter and convey to her that her father was there. “Look, I can’t even imagine how you feel right now,” he pulled away slightly to look you in the eye. His thumb went to wipe your tears away softly. “But let me tell you, you are doing an absolute killer job. Our princess is incredibly lucky to have you as her mom.”
“I’m just so tired…” You mumbled, too exhausted to move or even think.
“Then how about this,” Steve stood up abruptly as your eyes followed his every move. “I’ll draw you a relaxing bath, and while you soak up, I’ll make dinner. And when you’re rested and fed, I’ll give you a nice massage. How does that sound?”
You bit your lip, deep in thought. The idea taunted you, teasing you with a good time you forgot you needed. “That’d be great.”
The gentle steam looked inviting, as though the heat beckoned you to dip and relax your screaming muscles. Steve, the ever-loving husband, helped you out of your clothes, then slowly, he lowered you into the warm water as it enveloped you fully. Another spasm resonated in your stomach, but relief was so great that you nearly moaned in joy. The water tension lifted the baby off your spine, finally allowing you to breathe with a full chest.
“Good?” Steve chuckled. He leaned on the bathtub, brushing the loose hair off your face.
“So good,” you sighed and stared at your husband. The look on his face showed nothing but pure love and adoration that made your heartbeat accelerate. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. He leaned down to capture your lips in a soft and tender kiss. His hand dipped into warm water to caress your swollen belly. His “Now, you just relax. I’ll bring in the radio so you can listen to music. I’ll leave the door open just in case.”
“Thank you,” you murmured, already feeling the warm water easing the ache that had kept you up most nights.
When Steve returned with the radio, he placed one final kiss on your cheek and retreated to the kitchen. Through your sleepy haze, you could hear the clunking of pans, as well as the soft sizzling that had your stomach cramping in hunger again. You shifted slightly, rubbing your belly with a tired smile. With a soft sigh, you muttered to yourself, ‘I can’t wait for you to join us.’
You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent soaking in the bathtub. Long enough for the water to lose its warmth, for a chill to creep in, and finally coax you out. Your belly kept protesting, tightening and cramping again and again at the beckoning smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen through the open door. You groaned at the uncomfortable feeling and called for your husband to help you up.
Steve was there in an instant. His movements were unhurried and careful, strong hands steady as they secured their grip on you. As you rose, a sharp tug deep in your abdomen made you cringe and let out a low groan. He wrapped a towel over you, the soft material provided just enough comfort to forget the pain.
However, as you were about to step out of the bathtub, something hot trickled down your thighs. It couldn’t be bathwater, you realized, as the sensation felt different, unmistakable, coming from inside you. The gentle, rhythmic sound of dripping had Steve pausing, his brow furrowing. Both of you looked down.
“Honey…” he said quietly, awe and disbelief in his voice, “I think your water just broke…”
A/N: What should I name the babygirl? >w<
