#missmil

[delicatelie89]

@missmil GOOD LUCK GIRL!!! I'm rooting for you hun! Go and fucking nail it! 💕🤗😘🤞🏻

[jhelenoftrek]

Drablet Series:  Guess it, Pick next - “Scrambled Eggs”

This one is from/for @missmil and it has taken me way too long.  432 words.  First one to correctly identify will hear from me (probably tomorrow) about choosing the next one I write. 

My hand rests gently over my belly, and it’s the most natural feeling in the world.  There is a fluttering inside, after having identified it for the first time today I notice it constantly now.

I don’t need to roll to my right to know that he’s there too.  My rock. The man who has finally gotten through to me and made me accept that he won’t be leaving.

Despite a long day, his rhythmic breathing and the lulling movement from within, I know I won’t be persuaded to sleep anytime soon.  And I’ve never been one for tossing and turning.  So I kiss him on the cheek, and then I leave.

To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised that anyone is in the mess hall at this hour, let alone the woman I find in the dim light of the corner table.  

“Ensign Wildman,” I say, both as a question and a realization.  She closes her book and regards me with that genuine, pure and wonderfully mother-like smile she has perfected through the years.

“B’Elanna,” she says. It sounds just a bit odd because she has always called me ‘Lieutenant.’

“I don’t know that I have ever seen you here this late at night,” I say.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here this late,” she replies, pulling out a chair for me to join her.

“Everything alright?” I ask, not quite sure of what to make of this encounter.

“Oh, sure.  I’m fine.  How are you doing?”

I shrug and instinctively put my hand over my stomach.  “I’m…. we’re doing alright.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she replies.  “So, what are you craving?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re here to eat something and get some air, right?  For me, it was always scrambled eggs.  God, I couldn’t get enough of them.”

“I’m actually not very hungry,” I say, looking down at the table.

“Ah, I remember those nights too.”

“Ensign,” I begin.

“Samantha,” she corrects.

“Samantha.  Are you here because of me?”

She smiles.  “I had a feeling you’d be by.  And that you might need a friend.”

“You’re really an amazing woman, you know that?” I blurt out.  It’s an odd thing for me to say, but it’s true.  I’ve been admiring her quiet strength for years, never really understanding it because my own has been so loud and brutal.

She blushes and shrugs and slides me a glass of water.  I take a sip, then I lean back in my chair.  

“Scrambled eggs, huh?”

She laughs.  “Scrambled eggs.  And God help me, I’ll never eat them again.”