A Valiantremnant original
Pre story notes: To get the initial note out of the way, no, this is not connected to Gwen's story ('Overstimulated' and 'Overwhelmed'.) This is a completely separate story. Well, as separate as any of my stories are. I guess they could all take place in the same world, (minus a couple of works, obviously.) Next item, I don't often write partners for my characters. I've been doing a bit more lately, but I have always found it difficult. That said, I find writing absolute crap stains of people as partners to be fun. Especially when you can base them off of someone you actually know. So Clint, (not real name,) go fuck yourself! And you people, find yourself someone better than a Clint. If you are a Clint, be better. And lastly, I like doing either blindingly fast labors, or long slog style labors. I've never done a prodromal labor before, and the idea fascinated me. Imagine essentially laboring on and off for days, even weeks on end, only for it to drag on, and on, and on, and having to keep going about your life like normal, because you're not having the baby today.
CW/Ingredient list: Unsupportive, pushy partner, creepy coworker, medical bureaucracy, and a lot of stressful home life.
"Oh my god," Taylor whispered to herself as she squirmed in her office chair.
They were the same hips that had gotten her into the mess she was in now, and yet they weren't. Taylor could hardly recognize herself anymore, no longer the slim athletic figure she once was, her entire body now dominated by the massive belly she carried around. The massive belly that would not stop contracting.
"Come onnnn," She groaned as she pushed her chair away from the desk and slowly got to her feet.
She'd been having contractions for months now, since week twenty, and the last week had been worse than usual. Her doctor had told her again and again that they were just Braxton hicks, and that she didn't need to worry about them. Which was easy enough for her to say, since she wasn't the one constantly having contractions.
"One of those days Taylor?" Brenda, one of her coworkers, asked her as she walked past.
"Mmhm," Taylor hummed back, knowing that if she opened her mouth, she was probably going to yell.
Brenda looked like she was going to saw more, so Taylor grabbed a stack of paperwork she'd been putting off for a while to get away from her.
"Gotta hit the copier," She said, barely managing to keep from shouting.
"Oh, I can get that for you if you'd like," Brenda offered.
"No no, I need to move," Taylor said, huffing as she began the long walk to the copier.
The truth was, she'd been feeling so much pressure she was certain that the baby was about to fall out, and sitting felt like sitting on a basketball. Walking helped that pressure move forward.
Ever since last week Wednesday, she'd been going in every other day, convinced she was finally in labor. She was feeling so much pressure, the baby felt low, and her contractions just would not stop. At least, not until she'd go into the hospital to get checked. Once she was there, they would taper off, fizzling out until they stopped completely. She'd beg the doctors to let her stay, telling them that they would pick right back up, but they wouldn't. They never did until she was back at home and trying to get back to sleep that night. So she'd started looking up how to get labor started. Taylor had been watching birth vlogs and guides for days now, trying to find ways to keep contractions more consistent, how to help the baby move lower, how to work with the pressure. She'd started taking the stairs up to the office, walking around more at work, eating spicier and spicier food. Of course, there was one thing she hadn't tried, but only because it was too uncomfortable. That and she couldn't do it while at work anyway.
"Well, you look like you're about to pop," Another one of her coworkers, Matthew, she thought, commented.
"Uh-huh," Taylor replied, not having the energy to deal with it.
There was a copier closer to her desk, but the whole point was to walk, so she made her way to the one on the other side of the office floor, weaving through the grid pattern of cubicles. And the whole way there, she kept getting comment after comment.
"About to pop, huh?"
"No baby yet?"
"You look uncomfortable, why don't you take a load off?"
"Wow, you're huge!"
Taylor did stop at that one and levelled a glare at Andy, a somewhat recent hire. Something about him just made her feel gross. He almost never made eye contact with her, looking solely at her belly if she was lucky, looking at her breasts if she wasn't.
"Don't say that to me again," Taylor said, her voice flat, trying to stay calm.
"What? It's a compliment. You look like you're-"
"About to pop, yes I know." Taylor ground out, snapping a bit, "I get that enough from old women on the street. You'd think that people would know better than to comment on it in a professional setting."
Turning as best as she could, Taylor changed course, headed back to her own desk. She needed to set her paperwork back down and head to HR.
"Here's the thing," The HR rep, Carol, one of only four women at the company said with sympathy, "I can do this one of two ways. I can come down on the comments and everything, but I will warn you, it will create a lot of friction and social pressure for you."
"Oh great, more pressure,' Taylor said, shifting in the chair.
She almost wished she had grabbed her own office chair. Or at the very least the cushion she had bought to make siting easier on her.
Carol smiled thinly at the attempted humor, "Right. I can do that if you'd like. Otherwise, I'll send out an email reminding everyone of company policy regarding those kind of comments. Nothing in particular, and I'll say that you're not the only one who's complained lately."
Taylor nodded, "If it's about Andy, I have a few complaints on him as well."
Carol sighed, pulling out a form, "Alright, let's get that one through."
Taylor, between contractions, relayed her last interaction with Andy.
"Well, I'll add it to the file, but unfortunately, aside from talking to him about the comment, there isn't much I can do about that situation."
"He was practically undressing me with his eyes!"
Carol looked glum, "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Andy isn't the kind to go without a fight. Apparently, he sued his last job for wrongful termination, and got it on a technicality. I need to play this one very carefully. Unless he does something that so far over the line, that a child could tell that he messed up, there's not much I can really do."
Taylor nodded, "Fine. Fine! Ok… sorry. It's just been one of those days."
Carol nodded, and hesitated, "Given the nature of your complaint that brought you here, it seems like bad timing, but how are you holding up? You left a voicemail that you went in to the hospital yesterday. What happened?"
"The same thing that happened on Friday, and on Wednesday. I go in, the contractions stop, and they send me home."
Carol nodded sympathetically, "I remember that with my last one. I think I went in three times myself. Who knows, maybe next time will be the time."
Taylor grunted as she started getting up, "Yeah, I hope so. Sorry about having you start, and then cancel my maternity leave paperwork again."
"You know, you could start your leave now."
"I want to spend as much time with the baby as possible," Taylor replied, "I'll start it once I give birth."
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful aside from the contractions and the constant trips to the bathroom. Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment building, she groaned as she saw that Clint, her boyfriend, had parked in the garage stall again, meaning she had to find parking outside. Backing out of the garage was hard, Taylor groaning in pain as she twisted her body around to look out the back windshield to see where she was. She didn't quite trust the backup camera fully, and recently, it had been giving her motion sickness. Getting out of the garage and finding a spot, Taylor calmed herself down as she walked to the front door.
"It's fine, I need to walk more anyway… Stupid, inconsiderate…"
She grumbled to herself as she considered taking the stairs, but decided that the parking lot counted, and hit the button for the elevator. While she waited, she unlocked the mailbox and grabbed the mail, tossing most of it in the recycle bin right next to the collection of mailboxes. Other than a few bills, everything was junk mail anyway. Checking the collection of packages in the lobby, Taylor could see that Clint hadn't picked up any of their stuff. She considered grabbing the boxes, but with her hands full, and the elevator dinging it's arrival, she decided she'd tell Clint to get them later. Hitting the button for the third floor, Taylor winced as she had a contraction just as the elevator started going up.
"OW! Owwwwww," She whined, shifting from one foot to the other as she tried to work with the sudden spike of pressure, "Come on, you wanna come out now?"
The baby shifted slowly through the contraction, making it worse, but didn't seem to want to come out. Taylor sighed and leaned back against the wall until she got to her floor. Walking to her apartment door, which wasn't all that close to the elevator, Taylor took a breath, preparing herself for whatever she was going to walk into.
"I'm home," Taylor said, squinting in the dark.
She didn't get an answer. On the other side of the apartment, she could see Clint lit up by the tv. As usual, he had a controller in hand, and a pile of empty snack wrappers and soda cans at his feet.
"Wow, did you do anything today?" Taylor asked, feeling some frustration bubbling up to the surface.
"Uh, went to get the mail," He said, not even turning to look at her.
"I got it on the way up," Taylor said, dropping the envelopes on the island, "So I guess that means you haven't done anything today."
"Hey, I'm still waiting to hear back from the places I interviewed at."
"Are you still applying?"
"What are you, my mother?" Clint asked, sounding exasperated, finally pausing his game.
"No, I'm not, so I shouldn't have to remind you to get the mail, or run the dishwasher. Or let me guess…"
Taylor went to the garbage can and took the lid off, nearly vomiting right into it. The food that Taylor had thrown out when she cleaned the fridge when the two of them had gotten home last night was still there.
"Oh for god's sake," Taylor said, "That's… that's the only thing I specifically asked you to do, and you couldn't even do that?"
"Uh, I forgot. I get it in a sec," Clint muttered lamely.
"Don't bother," Taylor said, "Just… fuck!"
Taylor ripped the bag out of the can and grabbed her keys.
"Make yourself useful, and at least get the dishwasher running?"
Taylor took the bag downstairs and heaved the bag into the dumpster, wincing as doing so set off another contraction.
"Come on, you can come out," Taylor said, only half believing it, "He isn't always so… He used to be a…"
She broke off, and broke down crying, letting the day out in the walled off dumpster holding area, feeling safer there than she did in her own apartment.
When she recovered, she took the elevator back up, genuinely surprised to find the lights on, the dishwasher running, and Clint wearing something other than the t-shirt and underwear he had been wearing a few minutes ago.
"There you are," he said, and leaned in to kiss her.
Taylor turned her head as he did, wrinkling her nose when she smelled what he had been doing.
"Oh for, again? I hope at least you weren't smoking in here."
"Relax, I only smoked on the balcony."
Taylor ground her teeth, "The rules say that you have to go down to the patio to smoke."
Clint slumped, and in a voice that would have been funny if it had been literally any other situation, he whined, "But they won't let me smoke weed there."
Taylor nearly screamed in frustration, and went to the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and began stripping down her work clothes. Despite being maternity wear, an expense that she'd only given into because she thought they might be more comfortable, which they weren't, and began pulling on something that didn't feel so restrictive. As she pulled on her loose t-shirt, she heard Clint whistle.
"Damn, you still got it."
"What?" Taylor asked, looking for her equally loose pajama pants.
"You know, it," He said, and she groaned as she knew where this was going.
"No. We're not doing anything tonight."
"Aw come on," Clint blew out, "You've been saying no for like two weeks now."
"Because I've been having contractions for two weeks now!" Taylor shouted back, standing up, forgetting about her pants and putting a hand on her belly as she had another contraction as if even her belly was trying to prove a point, "I'm hurting, I'm tired, and I'm huge. I don't want to do that right now."
Clint leaned on the doorframe, "You know, it's supposed to help kickstart labor. Maybe if we…"
"Maybe I'll kickstart your nuts," Taylor snapped, "No means no!"
She slammed the door, and leaned against it as she tried to breathe through the contraction.
"He's not always like that," Taylor told herself and the baby, trying to believe it.
"Still no baby?" A different coworker asked, "Or is that question off limits?"
Taylor sighed, "No, no baby, and… never mind," Taylor said, as she clocked in and made her way to her cubicle.
Carol had sent out the email, and while she kept it vague, Taylor could tell that the rumor that she was behind it had spread like wildfire.
"Great, this will be a fun day," Taylor muttered as she dropped her purse off at her desk and took her lunchbox to the breakroom.
At least she knew that no one would be taking it. There had been a rash of stolen lunches until someone had stolen Jack's one too many times. Taylor knew Jack grew his own peppers, and did cross breeding, liking to experiment with hotter and hotter varieties. The screams had been legendary, and the fallout had been severe. Jack wasn't allowed to 'poison his own lunch' anymore, and the lunch thief had 'sought other opportunities' shortly after. Jack still made his sandwiches with slices of his peppers on them instead of something normal, like bananas.
"Hi Jack," Taylor said as she put her lunchbox in one of the fridges.
"I'm not taking this plane," He said, grabbing something out of his own lunchbox, "As requested, the same pepper that put my sister into labor, the Firedaisy."
Taylor had read that spicy food could induce labor. Jack had told her about a breed that he had named after his sister after she ate one and had gone into labor less than a day later.
"Any warning label?" Taylor asked, accepting the bag and tucking it into her lunchbox.
"Don't drink water, and probably have a thing of half and half on hand. Milk isn't going to cut it."
Taylor nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."
The day went by slowly, and Taylor found herself getting up and pacing more often than not, trying to get the sporadic contractions to come more regularly.
"Hey Taylor," Chris, her boss said as he passed by her cubicle.
"Hi Chris," Taylor said as she stood, rocking her hips back and forth, the slowly building pressure starting to drive her crazy.
"So, I wanted to talk about your performance over the last couple of days."
Taylor groaned, and not just because of the contraction, "I know, It's just… the last few days have been pretty hard, and I…"
Taylor flopped her arms uselessly before replacing them, one on the small of her back and one under her belly.
Chris nodded, "No, I get that, and this isn't a reprimand. I can cover for you for now, but I at least need you to meet your quota today."
Taylor sighed, "Ok. I'll get it done."
Chris nodded, "Thank you. I don't want to seem like a hardass, but there's some pressure coming from above, so…"
Taylor nodded, and winced as she waddled back to her chair and sat down. Now it felt like sitting on a bowling ball. She set herself the goal of getting through ten of her documents at a time before letting herself get up and move around. Eventually, she found herself in a sort of loop. If she moved and made herself comfortable, she started getting stressed out about not getting her work done, and couldn't get comfortable. If she settled in to start working, she started becoming so uncomfortable, she couldn't focus on her work. Finally, it was lunch time and she got up with a pained groan.
Taylor made her way to the break room, waddling and staying close to the side of the corridor made between the endless rows of cubicles. It both gave her something she could lean on or grab hold of if she needed to, and kept her clear of her coworkers who could move a bit faster than she could at the moment. As uncomfortable as she already was, she was hoping that it would get worse. She hadn't felt a contraction in hours, and was hoping to get that ball rolling with lunch. Finally making it to the break room, she grabbed her lunch box and made her way out. The biggest disadvantage of being as slow as she was, was that by the time she made it to the break room, all of the comfier chairs would be taken. Even then, her office chair was easier for her to sit on. After making it to her desk once again, she settled in to eat. After looking up some advice online, she looked at the pepper in it's sealed bag.
"More effective on an empty stomach, huh? Well, at least I can use the rest of my lunch to cool down after. Down we go…"
She opened the bag, wincing at the tang in the air as soon as she did. Swallowing nervously, she popped the small fruit into her mouth and chewed it once before swallowing.
"HHHOOOOOOGGGGGGGHHHHHHHKHHHHHH Holy FUCKKKHKHKHHHHHHHH!" Taylor belted out, coughing and shouting as she desperately dug into her lunchbox and pulled out her bottle of milk, chugging it and panting as her mouth still burned. Her eyes streaming with tears, she dug again and found the container of ranch she used to dip her carrots in. Fumbling it open, she scooped out a glob with her fingers and shoved it into her mouth, working the thick dressing around like mouthwash, sighing as she could feel the pain beginning to ease slightly. At least, the pain in her mouth.
"Oh shit…" Taylor groaned as she clutched at her belly. It wasn't a contraction, she could feel whatever unholy powers Jack had put into that pepper unleashing themselves in her stomach, which began to cramp and twist in protest.
"Hey, you ok?" Taylor heard from behind her and she turned, and could just barely make out the blurry form of Jake in the entry to her cubicle.
"Your pepper tried to kill me," Taylor croaked.
Jake struggled to suppress a laugh, "I warned you. Damn, you ate the whole thing huh? Well, hope it works out for you."
"Me too."
Taylor was certain it had worked. Since lunch, she'd started having contractions closer and closer together. For almost an hour, they had been eight minutes apart. Then they were seven. Now they were just under six minutes apart. Taylor was trying not to get excited, having had two false alarms already, but she couldn't help but think that today would be the day.
"Hey Carol," Taylor said, just before the end of the work day.
"Hi Taylor, can I help you? It isn't another complaint, is it?"
"No, nothing like that," Taylor said with a smile, "So, I think I might be starting my maternity leave tomorrow, just thought I'd give you a heads up."
"Oh, good for you! Well, good luck then."
Taylor nodded, "Do I need to sign anything, or…"
Carol waver her hand, "No, same as last time, I'll send you a e-form and you can just submit it when you get the chance. Are you headed home now?"
Taylor held up a hand as she had another contraction.
"Hoooo…. I think so. I need to get home and get ready for the hospital."
"Alright then, I hope everything goes well."
Taylor nodded and began making her way back to her cubicle. Grabbing her things, she began the slow journey to her car, taking the elevator instead of the stairs. The drive home was uneventful, having left a bit before rush hour traffic started, and made it to her apartment in nearly record time.
"Oh for… ok, It'll be fine," Taylor griped as she backed out of the underground parking garage to find that, once again, Clint had parked in her stall.
Backing her car outside, she figured this would work out fine, they would be taking her car anyway, and leaving it in the lot meant that they could get out of there quicker. For once, she was able to find a spot next to her building, and made her way inside, taking the elevator as she panted through contractions.
"Let's see… ok, five minutes. Five minutes apart… It's go time, it's go time."
Once the elevator reached her floor, Taylor waddled her way to her apartment and let herself in.
"Clint," She called once she got in, "I think it's time. We need to go in."
Clint looked up from his game, "Again?"
Taylor huffed in annoyance, "What do you mean, 'again'? Come on, we need to go!"
Clint sighed, pausing his game and getting up. Taylor scoffed in disgust as she watched the amount of crumbs tumbling off of him, noting that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
"Did you do anything today? Job interviews, grocery shopping, anything?"
"I hung out with Brody," He said, "What about you?"
Taylor couldn't answer, not because the question was so infuriating that she was struck speechless, but from the contraction that had taken her breath away.
By the time it had passed, Clint was already getting pants and a shirt on, grabbing his wallet and keys.
"Alright, let's go," He said.
"I'll need you to drive," Taylor said, grabbing the hospital bag and holding her belly as she tried to sooth it by pressing a hand against it.
Clint jangled his keys, "Yeah yeah, I gotta get gas tonight anyway."
Taylor paused, "You… no, we're taking my car."
Clint sighed and rolled his head back, "But I hate how your car handles. Come on, let's just take mine."
Taylor shook her head, "Not only is your car disgusting, the car seat is in my car!"
"I can swing back here and grab it while you're in labor," Clint said, "It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal? No, we're… AGH!" Taylor had to pause as she had another contraction, "We're taking my car!"
Clint crossed his arms, "Then you're driving. I don't like the stupid push button start, and the twist dial shifter. My car, or I'm not driving."
Taylor glared at Clint, but it was a standoff she knew she couldn't win. Not only was she unable to win a stare down, but she needed him to drive her. At the end of the day, as long as she got to the hospital, she didn't really care how she got there.
"Fine!" She snapped, "But you're stopping for gas when you come to get my car for the car seat."
Taylor sulked the entire way down the elevator to the garage, her stubborn silence and crossed arms only breaking for another contraction. Earlier, she had been excited by the increasingly faster cramps, but something about Clint could suck the joy out of anything.
"Oh god," She groaned in pain and disgust as she opened the door and actual garbage spilled off of the passenger seat.
"Nah, it's all good," Clint said, grabbing armloads of garbage and throwing old food wrappers, soda cans, cigarette packs and more into the back seat, "Let's go!"
Taylor gingerly say down in the car, wincing as she felt the sticky armrest and felt the grimy seat under her legs. She thought about setting the hospital bag down, but thought better of it. She had to fight to get the seatbelt out enough to actually buckle, annoyed at how the buckle was twisted backwards on the belt.
"Can we please take my car," Taylor tried once last time.
Clint started the engine and threw it into reverse, "Nah, we're good, let's go!"
At the very least Clint remembered the way to the hospital, and while they didn't make it in record time, Taylor didn't have many contractions in the car. She was worried that was because they were starting to space apart though.
"Alright, let's get you hooked up and monitored," The nurse said as he started attaching leads to Taylor and putting monitors on her belly, "Ok, good heart rate for both of you…"
He trailed off, sniffing at Taylor, and looking concerned.
"No, I don't smoke, that's him," Taylor said, pointing at Clint who was sitting on the chair in the triage room, glued to his phone, "We took his car here."
The nurse looked wary, but nodded, "Ok, I didn't want to ask, but, well, you know."
Taylor nodded, "Yeah, shouldn't be smoking weed around pregnant women, right?"
Clint seemed unaware of the conversation as Taylor glared in his direction. The nurse seemed uncomfortable, and tried to steer things back to familiar territory for him.
"Well, your blood pressure is a little high, and, yep, ok there's a contraction."
He watched the monitor as it registered how tight Taylor was contracting, Taylor only able to tell by how badly it hurt and how hard she was gripping the plastic rail of the bed. She was panting as it began to fade away.
"Ok, so we're at… five thirty two, so let's see when your next one is and figure out where to go from there. While we're waiting, let's go over a few things…"
The nurse went over things like Taylor's birth plan, what options they had for birthing rooms, and things that basically just passed time until she had another contraction.
"Ok, five forty one, so nine minutes apart."
Taylor's heart sank. She knew that she was closer to five minutes when she had left work! While at the apartment, they must have been closer to four. It wasn't until the car ride that she suspected they might be slacking off.
"Can we wait?" Taylor asked, "I think they'll come back, they were closer earlier… see?"
Taylor showed the nurse the contraction timer history, and the nurse nodded, "Yeah, they were getting close there. Yeah, we'll keep you for observation for a while, sometimes the change of scenery, a car ride, getting checked can stress you out and cause things to slow down. So I'll let you unwind here for a bit and we'll check on you later, ok?"
Taylor nodded, rubbing her belly, silently begging it to start contracting again.
'Come on, work! Just… just contract. Give me a big contraction!'
A handful of contractions later, Clint sighed and stood up.
"Aight, I'm gonna go get gas."
Taylor glared at him, but closed her eyes. If he was out of the room, she might be able to relax more.
"Ok, fine, but keep your phone on you, I'll keep you updated."
Clint rolled his eyes as he left the room. Taylor ground her teeth together, and sighed, resting her head back on the pillow, asking herself questions that others had asked her. Why was she still with him? part of it was because he was the father. And when they had first gotten together, we wasn't like how he was now. Getting laid off had done a number on his self esteem, and he had buried his sorrows in video games and weed, but he'd work his way out of the rut he was in, right?
"It'll be ok," Taylor said, rubbing her belly, wincing as it contracted again.
She looked at the clock, moaning in despair as she noted that her contractions were now ten minutes apart. As she breathed through the contraction, she wondered if she was saying that things would be ok for the baby, or fer herself. As she thought, she barely noticed that the contraction was much shorter than the earlier ones had been. And that it hurt less.
"Where were you?" Taylor asked as Clint came back in and flopped into the chair.
"Uh, outside," Clint replied.
Taylor looked at the clock, and shook her head, "You were gone for almost four fucking hours, did you at least go home and get the car seat?"
"Uh, no, I forgot," Clint said, shrugging and yawning, "So is anything happening?"
"No, nothing is fucking happening!" Taylor snapped, feeling defeated. Almost twenty minutes ago, the nurse had come back in and read over the results of Taylor's contractions, only to deliver bad news to her.
"I'm sorry, but things seem to be slowing down."
"No, please, just a little bit longer, I can do it!" Taylor had begged, "At least check me, see if I'm more dilated than I was last time?"
The check had been as painful as the last time had been, only to deliver news that felt more crushing the second time around.
"One centimeter. I guess tonight isn't the night."
So Taylor had waited, laying back and looking at the ceiling, trying not to cry in frustration until Clint returned.
"So if nothing is happening, I guess it's not a big deal that I didn't get the seat then, right?"
"That's not the point," Taylor said, feeling tears well up, "Just shut up."
"Ok, I have your discharge papers," The nurse said, walking back in, "Just sign here and here… ok, thank you. And I'm sorry that things didn't move for you."
"Yeah, me too," Taylor said as she got out of the bed, slipping back into her work shoes.
She hadn't even had time when they left to change into comfier clothes. She didn't know what hurt more while headed to the hospital's parking lot, her body from being as pregnant as she was and having basically labored for a few hours, or the fact that Clint didn't even so much as offer to help support her as she walked.
Taylor inhaled deeply, smelling rain on the way, and tried her best to pick up the pace slightly. She loved the smell of incoming rain, and did several deep inhales, relaxing somewhat as she took in the scent. When they got to the car, Taylor lowered herself into the seat, and wrinkled her nose. If anything, the weed smell was stronger now.
"Ok, you want anything to eat on the way home?" Clint asked.
"No, I just want to go to bed," Taylor said, feeling miserable.
"That's fine. I do need to stop and get gas though."
Taylor nodded, barely hearing him, then slowly turning.
"I thought that's what you left the room for. You said that you were leaving to go get gas."
"Oh," Was all Clint said, and started driving.
"Oh my god, you never went to go get gas, you just wanted to come out here and fucking smoke!" Taylor shouted, "You just left me in there so you could…you just… AAAAAGUH!"
Taylor screamed in frustration, unable to stand how useless and worthless Clint had been all evening. She had to fight him to get a ride to the hospital, he barely helped or even paid attention in the hospital, and now this? All she wanted was to go home, shower the filth from the car off of her, crawl into bed and sleep. And cry. She knew that she would be crying as soon as she felt like she could unwind. That made her pause. When had she stopped feeling like she could cry around Clint? When had his name started bringing up nothing but frustration and rage? The thought came to her again. Why was she still with him?
Taylor didn't talk or even look at Clint until they got home. She got out, and groaned as her back took the full weight of her belly again.
"Can you carry this?" She asked, holding out the hospital bag.
"I'll bring it up," Clint replied, sounding at the very least slightly remorseful over the way the evening had gone.
The cynical part of Taylor's mind preferred to think that the remorse was over getting yelled at rather than any actual self reflection. Although he parked outside just as the rain was picking up, he pulled out an umbrella for her and held the door open for her, letting her in first.
"Thank you," Taylor said as they went back up to the apartment.
Sometimes, Clint showed his decent side, holding doors and offering umbrellas, but Taylor still couldn't quite forgive him. After she showered, she went to go make sure the hospital bag was by the door in case she needed it, only to find…
"Where did you put the hospital bag?" Taylor asked.
"Oh, it's still in my car," Clint said.
"Unbelievable," Taylor said, "I asked you to bring it in!"
"I was holding the umbrella and the door," Clint retorted, "Sorry for not grabbing it!"
Taylor sighed, closing her eyes and clenching her fists. One. Two. Three seconds, and then she let go, and opened her eyes.
"Ok, can you go get it now?"
A thunderclap boomed as the rainstorm picked up, and Clint looked outside.
"Uh, I'll wait until this passes. Like in the morning."
"Great," Taylor said, turning and headed for the bedroom.
"So uh, you what can help get labor going?" Clint said, putting a hand on Taylor's shoulder and giving it a little rub.
"Not in your dreams asshole," Taylor replied, shrugging the hand off of her shoulder and doing her best to whirl around, but just managing a pained shuffle.
"Oh why not, it's been a while," Clint whined.
"Are you serious? I've been in pain all day, I was basically in labor for hours, you LEFT ME in the hospital room, ALONE while you went to go get high, lied about it, left the hospital bag in the car, and you think I want to have sex right now? Are you for real? That is the last thing I need right now!"
"Hey, I have needs too. We haven't done anything in awhile, and I heard that it feels great when you're pregnant."
"Trust me, right now, nothing about that sounds like it would feel good."
"No, good for me, you're apparently so much tighter, and-"
"Oh for…fuck no!" Taylor shouted, turning and headed for the bedroom, slamming it behind her and locking it.
Clint could sleep on the couch for all she cared. She could hear him muttering out in the living room as she pulled her clothes off, leaving them on a heap on the floor, too tired to bother doing anything with them. Once in bed, alone, and, to her shock, only now feeling safe, she began to cry, harsh sobs of emotions she couldn't put into words ripping into her like the contractions had done before until she was fast asleep.
