The Rabbit Done Died Meme
The Rabbit Done Died
"The rabbit died" is an old saying meaning one is pregnant, coming from the now no longer practiced rabbit test.
Congratulations!
You're pregnant. Knocked up. Eating for two. Have a bun in the oven.
Insert your own cliched phrase here. No matter how you say it, you're
downright fertilized. Even if you're not typically in possession ( Read more... )
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Six...
[He's quiet a moment, trying to stay stoic. But his eyes give his concern away.]
Six, I'm taking you off active field duty. You can't fight in your condition.
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[He'll just have to be extra careful. It's not just his life on the line anymore.]
[...Four months, and that thought never ceases to floor him.]
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I go in for the weekly checkups. I...We're doing fine. Besides the...morning sickness...is finally easing up a bit.
[He still owed Callan a new set of boots though. He needs to do that.]
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That, and I can't risk you getting injured out there. Not like this. It's throwing you off, I can tell, and I can't risk seeing you slip up and get hurt. Either of you.
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"I'm well aware of that, partner," he said in a clipped tone. (The estrogen supplements the doctor insisted on him taking on top of the prenatal vitamins was making him do strange things. Or at least that's what he preferred to believe rather than believe he was having mood swings.) "Having my stomach poked and prodded for two hours every Saturday afternoon like some sort of alien lifeform's taken up residence sort of drives that home."
He hadn't realized that how off-centered he felt while fighting had been noticeable. And with the knowledge he was only going to get rounder, he knew it was going to get worse.
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He'd entertained fantasies about fatherhood before, including the pregnancy itself. He'd always imagined sitting with the mother - cuddling with her, holding her stomach, as they talked about the future and discussed names. He had never planned for a domestic life, but would have enjoyed it nonetheless. But that was far gone, now, and the only mother to his only child would be Six.
"But it's not an alien. It's... it's a baby." He had trouble getting the words out, because he still can't wrap his head around it. "And I want to keep you close by to make sure you both are in good health. Make sure its not having any... detrimental effects."
He doesn't mention that he wants to keep Six close because... well, he wants Six close. As close as possible without breaking the wall between them.
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He took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself back under control. He shook, hugging himself tightly and just wanting to disappear. Providence's top agent--top male agent--being with child. It definitely led to much gawking.
He felt a bit winded from his outburst. Yet another little reminder of it all.
The nausea surged forward but he swallowed it down. He sighed in resignation and got up to pull a rice cake out of the nightstand drawer. He started nibbling on it miserably.
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"Six," Knight says softly, "you still have the option to..." his voice hitches a moment, but he regains composure. "...terminate the pregnancy if you so choose."
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"Make that suggestion again," Six growled, "and I will drag you out of that box just so I can gut you myself."
The child had no choice in the matter of who its parents were. Neither of them had expected anything like this to happen, but it had. Six would at least give the child a chance at life. It was just nine months out of his own that he'd have to trade.
He swallowed back another wave of nausea, returning his mouth's attention to the rice cake. He wasn't sure why, but whenever he was having a morning sickness fit, they helped.
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He watched Six another moment, taking in the sight of Six's swelled belly - barely noticeable now, but that wouldn't last long. God. A child. Their child. They'd always joked about being practically married - even before they had become intimate - but he'd never even imagined... something like this could have possibly... it was still baffling.
"For what it's worth," Knight says finally, "If I'm going to have a child with someone... I'm glad it's you, partner."
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He swallowed a bite of the rice cake.
"...I would've preferred a surrogate mother," he said grouchily.
Still, having a child with Knight was not the worst thing in the world. Quiet domesticity was something he could've gotten to like. He had quite a bit saved up as his "retirement fund" that could've been re-purposed to buy a normal home. Maybe a little house with a yard. A couple of cats would be nice. Maybe a dog if Knight insisted...
He jerked himself out of that nesting instinct, realizing far too late he was sniffling at the images his mind had conjured. That simple little dream was out of their reach.
"I hate these hormones," he said in a watery tone, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand to try and rid himself of the tears.
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That had been embarrassing and a struggle to hold it back. It was over the stupidest reasons, too. All Holiday had done was put a stethoscope to his belly. Callan had been just passing him in the hall.
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It occurred to him, then, that despite how close they'd been, he didn't know much about Six's upbringing. He'd never met any family, or anyone from childhood. Knight wondered how they would coordinate raising this kid. Obviously Six would have the final say by default, since he had the hands to actually... care for the child. Would he even take Knight's opinions and insights into account?
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