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Fic time! It's fluff.
When she kisses him for the last time before they become man and wife, he looks at her with such big, sad eyes that she jokingly asks if it’s a husband or a child she’s getting in the morning.
He pouts some more and refuses to let go of her. They’ve not spent a night apart in two years and he doesn’t see why they need to start now.
“Come on,” She tries gently, putting her hands on his, holding her waist. “We’ve got to go to bed. Big day tomorrow. I’m meeting some bloke for a date at a church and you’ve got to marry that pregnant slapper girlfriend of yours.” Light sparkles in her eyes when she smiles and that only strengthens his resolve to not let her go.
“Does it really have to be separate rooms?” This is where the last remnants of the spoiled rich boy come through. He’s not budging on this issue.
“How much do you like your bits?” She asks by way of reply, eyebrows raised.
“Why?”
“Because,” She smiles and it panics Rupert because Moira has a twisted sense of humour. “You’re not allowed to see the bride before the wedding. Bad luck. Also, if you break tradition, Lav will probably castrate you.”
If motivated by nothing else, this does seem to terrify Rupert into action. He retreats to the doorway of the spare bedroom, though the puppy dog eyes, the ones which work so well on his mother, sister, female friends… are working at maximum strength.
“Night my love,” she laughs, cutting him off before he has another chance to complain.
“Night, wife to be.”
Their doors close and they’re left to what is sure to be a sleepless night in beds that are a little too big and a bit too empty.
It’s fifteen minutes before one of them breaks. Her hand spread over the beginnings of a baby bump, Moira tiptoes into Rupert’s room.
“Don’t turn around,” She instructs the quilty lump as she opens the door. “I figure,” She adds more softly, climbing in bed and nestles behind him. “If you can’t see me, we’re not breaking the rules.”
Rupert nods and she can’t tell he’s grinning and he’ll never tell that he was seconds off going to her.
“I love you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.
Reaching behind him, he takes her hand and squeezes. “I love you-”
There’s a faint movement at his back. Something no human their size could possibly make.
“What was that?” There’s a warm, excited feeling in his stomach because he suspects he already knows the answer.
“I think that was baby.” He can hear her happiness, how big her grin must be. “I think that was her way of being loved.”
Her. Their daughter. Their unborn child. They lie there, mother, father, baby, basking in the moment. They’ll never forget this.
When she kisses him for the last time before they become man and wife, he looks at her with such big, sad eyes that she jokingly asks if it’s a husband or a child she’s getting in the morning.
He pouts some more and refuses to let go of her. They’ve not spent a night apart in two years and he doesn’t see why they need to start now.
“Come on,” She tries gently, putting her hands on his, holding her waist. “We’ve got to go to bed. Big day tomorrow. I’m meeting some bloke for a date at a church and you’ve got to marry that pregnant slapper girlfriend of yours.” Light sparkles in her eyes when she smiles and that only strengthens his resolve to not let her go.
“Does it really have to be separate rooms?” This is where the last remnants of the spoiled rich boy come through. He’s not budging on this issue.
“How much do you like your bits?” She asks by way of reply, eyebrows raised.
“Why?”
“Because,” She smiles and it panics Rupert because Moira has a twisted sense of humour. “You’re not allowed to see the bride before the wedding. Bad luck. Also, if you break tradition, Lav will probably castrate you.”
If motivated by nothing else, this does seem to terrify Rupert into action. He retreats to the doorway of the spare bedroom, though the puppy dog eyes, the ones which work so well on his mother, sister, female friends… are working at maximum strength.
“Night my love,” she laughs, cutting him off before he has another chance to complain.
“Night, wife to be.”
Their doors close and they’re left to what is sure to be a sleepless night in beds that are a little too big and a bit too empty.
It’s fifteen minutes before one of them breaks. Her hand spread over the beginnings of a baby bump, Moira tiptoes into Rupert’s room.
“Don’t turn around,” She instructs the quilty lump as she opens the door. “I figure,” She adds more softly, climbing in bed and nestles behind him. “If you can’t see me, we’re not breaking the rules.”
Rupert nods and she can’t tell he’s grinning and he’ll never tell that he was seconds off going to her.
“I love you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.
Reaching behind him, he takes her hand and squeezes. “I love you-”
There’s a faint movement at his back. Something no human their size could possibly make.
“What was that?” There’s a warm, excited feeling in his stomach because he suspects he already knows the answer.
“I think that was baby.” He can hear her happiness, how big her grin must be. “I think that was her way of being loved.”
Her. Their daughter. Their unborn child. They lie there, mother, father, baby, basking in the moment. They’ll never forget this.