A group of men work together to recruit the perfect women for them.
Featuring: Jack O'Malley, Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Johnny Storm, Mike Weiss, Jake Jensen, Ransom Drysdale, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Colin Shea, Pete Brenner, Cole Turner
Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, cheating/established relationships, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Andy Barber, side of Mike Weiss
Summary: You have a baby on the way but it's not the only surprise.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
You inch the door open and wince. You knocked once but no answer came. You’re surprised to find someone within. You rap again with your knuckles, that time on the door frame.
“Excuse me, Mr. Barber,” you say, “you mind?”
He sits up straight. He clears his throat as he forces his shoulders high, resuming his usual rigid posture. He’s of the few attorneys there that acknowledges you. He nods.
“Uh, sure,” he wiggles the mouse and clicks. “Come on in.”
You open the door wider and cross the office to his desk. You pick up the wastebasket beside it, holding back a grunt as your waist band presses tightly beneath your belly. You carry the bin to the cart at the door and dump it. It’s just coffee cups and crumpled paper, a wrapper from an egg wrap. The thought of eggs makes you nauseous.
“Need the break,” he rubs his eyes as you near him again. “Eyes are getting fuzzy.”
“Oh no,” you humour him. You hold the cloth in your hand, “you mind?”
“Go ahead,” he rolls his chair back.
“So sorry, sir, I'm running behind today.” You wipe around his keyboard and mouse. You pause and hover over a wrapper for a protein bar. “All done with this?”
“Um, yeah,” he answers.
You smile and scoop up the wrapper with a crinkle. “No problem.”
Your back spasm and you suck in a sharp breath. You rub between your hips as you retreat. You feel him watching you.
“You... alright?”
“It’s so sweet of you to ask,” you preen as you go back to the cart and toss the wrapper. “I’m just fine.”
You go to the book shelf and clean around the awards, the decorative gavel, and statue of Lady Justice. You feel him watching still. A few people have noticed despite you borrowing Mike’s shirts. Even those are starting to cling.
“You’re... expecting,” he guesses correctly.
You drag the cloth over a shelf, “I am.”
“I’m sorry if that’s...”
“Nah, it’s okay. I just don’t like anyone fussing over me,” you assure him. “All tidy, isn’t it?”
You step back and admire your work. The wheels of his chair roll over the mat.
“Why don’t you sit? Take a load off?” He offers.
You face him and smile. He’s so nice. He spends all that time working and he’s still worried about you. You’re just the cleaner. You know well how stressful law work can be. You barely see your boyfriend with him running around the public courts.
“Really, Mr. Barber, I still got the rest of the floor to do.”
“I remember when Laurie was expecting,” he says. “She was exhausted all the time.”
“I can manage. I’m not too far. Three months is all.”
“You really shouldn’t be doing so much,” he keeps his hand on the chair. “Not in your condition.”
“My doctor says it’s good,” you argue. “I really appreciate you worrying for me, but I’m fine. Really.”
He looks at you. The same way Mike does. They reflect each other in certain ways. They’re always so serious. They don’t like to be told no and they win most arguments. It’s probably why they do what they do.
“Well,” he sighs, his hand going to his hip. That posture defines him. It underlines his age. At least ten years older than Mike, who’s got a couple on you himself. “If you need somewhere to sit down, you come back here.”
“Oh, Mr. Barber,” you smile. “That’s so kind.”
You back to the door and tuck the dust cloth away. You get behind the cart as he follows. “Should you be pushing that around?”
“It’s not much,” you roll it back and forth. “Paper and sponges.”
He nods, his lips thinned in disapproval. That’s why you don’t tell anyone. They treat you different. And Mike doesn’t want his family to know yet. He says his mom will want you to marry first but he hasn’t even asked yet.
“You should be on accommodated duty. You know, I dealt with a few labour cases?” He insists.
“Mr. Barber,” you chide softly. “You got enough to worry about.”
You roll the cart away, down to Mr. Logiudice’s door. It’s already opens. He greets you with a flick of his fingers as he holds his phone to his ear. You clean quietly, certain not to disturb his call.
As you leave, Mr. Barber is still by his door. He stares at you for a moment before he retreats into his office. You hope you didn’t bother him too much.
You finish up your rounds and dump the bag in the dumpster. You stay outside for your break, sitting at the picnic table near the corner of the building. You drink water and chew on crackers. The baby is picky. Your breakfast ended up in the sink.
“Ahem,” the deep noise draws your eyes up as you stare at your phone. Mike’s busy. Not answering.
“Oh, Mr. Barber.” You blink at the attorney in his grey jacket.
“Aren’t you cold?” He asks.
You look down at your long-sleeved shirt.
“Baby’s got me running hot,” you shrug.
“Hmm, I just ran out to the coffee place,” he points over his shoulder. “Slow day.”
“It’s not so bad,” you look up at the grey clouds.
“They had a special. Muffin and coffee for three bucks,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white bag stamped with the cafe logo. “I just needed the caffeine.”
He has a cup in his other hand as he sets the bag on the table close to you. You look at it, then him. You find his eyes on your phone. You peer down and find your conversation with Mike still open. Still no reply.
“Thanks, uh,” you pull the bag closer. “I’ll save it for after work.” Odds are, you’ll give it to Mike. The smell of cinnamon is already sickening.
He gives another flat hum. His blue eyes search you. “Too early? You don’t know if it’s a girl or boy?”
You shake your head, “not yet. Don’t think I’ll ask.”
“Oh,” he clucks. “Laurie had to know. Had the nursery done two months early.”
“A lot to figure out,” you agree and stand, gathering up your phone and snack. “Gotta get back to it so I can buy the baby a crib, huh?”
He’s quiet. He walks with you back to the building. You feel him glancing at you repeatedly. He opens the door for you and you thank him.
