That Marriage Business

By S. Faith, 2009

Words: 20,743 (Part 1: 8,183)
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: Hugh has a little good news to go with Mark and Bridget's.
Disclaimer: Isn't mine. Well… except for Hugh.
Notes: Well, I had to eventually touch on this… :) Hearts as always to C.

"Are you nervous?"

From her prone position on the chair, she furrowed her brows. "Why should I be nervous?"

He squeezed her hand, looked to where he held it in his. It was impossible to believe her stomach wasn't flipping like mad. "It's a big day," he replied, raising his eyes to look at her.

"Really, there's nothing to be nervous about," she said. "It isn't as if they're cutting me open."

He chuckled, his anxiety dispersing a little. She was good at doing that. "But we should know for sure today. One way or another."

"Yes," she said. "Not that it really matters, deep down."

"Oh, of course," he said quickly. "As long as the little one is healthy."

She grinned. Never once did she doubt his sincerity in this statement, and he was thankful for that; he would be happy with either sex, but felt himself longing for a son, and she knew it. She had been quite vocal, however, in her proclamation that the baby was certain to be a girl.

The door to the exam room swung open and the doctor, a dark-haired woman, came in, holding a clipboard and smiling. "Well hello, Bridget, Mark; nice to see you."

"Hello, Dr Ravi," said Bridget.

"How are you feeling?"

"Excited," she said.

"And a little nervous," added Mark. He watched as Bridget pursed her lips to stifle a chuckle.

"Nothing to be nervous about," said Dr Ravi. "All indications are that everything is going smoothly, that the baby's healthy. But we like to take a look now and again."

She smiled, glancing to Mark. This wasn't her first ultrasound but he did not feel any calmer.

"But we get to learn if it's a boy or a girl, right?" she asked, anticipating his question.

"We're going to try," the doctor said. "Sixteen weeks with the equipment we have should be good enough, provided the little one is cooperative."

"What do you mean?" asked Mark, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him.

"Nothing nefarious, I assure you," said the doctor with a chuckle. "If he or she is turned the wrong way, we just won't be able to tell." She lifted the lower hem of Bridget's shirt, pushed down the elastic waistband of her cotton slacks; her belly wasn't huge but was definitely rounded. Mark smiled; he actually rather liked the way it made her look.

The doctor squirted the gel onto her abdomen, then picked up the scanner and used it to push the gel around. Bridget looked uncomfortable and squeezed his hand.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "It's just a little cold, is all."

Dr Ravi laughed under her breath, then rolled the scanner over her belly, looking to the monitor.

Suddenly, in the little triangular space, appeared the very distinct shape of their unborn child. Mark's heart nearly leapt in his throat with joy. "Like I said," advised the doctor after a few minutes of pushing the scanner around and observing what she saw. "Everything's looking fantastic. Developing perfectly and on schedule, and a good size to boot."

Mark looked to his wife, whose misty eyes were fixed on the screen. "I'm so glad," she said. He looked at the screen again.

"So you're interested in the gender," she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"Yes!" said Bridget. "Can you tell us?"

"I just wanted to make sure you really want to know before I go divulging that information." She turned to look at the two of them. He tightened his grip on her hand again. This was it. "Well. I hope you have some very nice names picked out for a little… boy."

Mark felt his eyes go round as saucers; he heard Bridget utter a sound that was partway between a laugh and a sob. He looked to Bridget with a broad smile then leaned forward to hug her as best as he could given their awkward positions.

"I'll copy the video of this to disk for you. Would you like a print of the screen too?" asked the doctor.

Mark pulled away to look at his wife; even with tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, especially with the way she glowed in her pregnant state. "Yes, yes," said Bridget; he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. "Absolutely."

Dr Ravi pressed a few buttons; they heard the printer kick off from the other side of the room. She pulled the scanner back then handed Bridget a small towel with which to wipe the gel off. The doctor stood and went to the printer and brought back a perfect little shot of their as-yet-unnamed son, then reached down and lifted a DVD up. Putting the disk into a case, she handed both of them to Mark. "There you are. We'll see you next time." She gathered up the charts and left the room, making notations as she walked.

His hands were shaking. He set the disk and the paper on his leg as Bridget straightened her trouser waist then pulled her shirt down. "Well, dear husband, you were right." She was grinning.

He rose, then helped her down off of the table. "I had no vested interest in being right," he said, taking her into his arms properly.

"But you're happy."

"Of course I'm happy," he said, "but I can assure you that a darling daughter would have been equally welcome. Especially if she's like you."

She laughed out loud. "I'm not sure you'd say that if you had a really long talk with my mother."

As they left the examination room some moments later, with his arm around her shoulders, he said, recalling their conversation from that day at the end of November when they'd discovered she was pregnant, "So. Andrew it is, then."

He heard her chuckle, felt her tighten her arm about his waist. "'Andrew Mark' I think would be best."

Smiling proudly, he leaned in to press a kiss into her hair. 'Andrew Mark' it would be, then. He couldn't wait to tell the world he was going to have a son—but thought, just for now, they'd keep their chosen name to themselves.

………

"Mark! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mark grinned; after respective calls to his parents and hers, he was practically going through his address book to share the good news, and his longtime friend Hugh had been next. "Have an exciting update."

He heard Hugh chuckle. "Ah. This must be related to impending fatherhood."

"Indeed it does," he said. "We went to the doctor today, and found out the baby's sex."

"Oh? And?"

Mark smiled. "Boy."

"That's terrific," returned Hugh automatically, then added hesitantly, "unless of course you were dead-set on a girl."

It was Mark's turn to laugh. "I would have been happy either way."

"Except I know you, Mark. You've always wanted a son. That doesn't make you a bad person. Men seem to want a son to carry on their name. I think as much as we like to deny it, it's part of male human nature."

He thought Hugh might just have a small point. "In any case," said Mark, "now that we know, Bridget's going gangbusters for boy-themed things. In one breath she's going on about she doesn't want to gender stereotype, and in the next, she's looking gooey-eyed at little toy trucks and airplanes."

Hugh chuckled. "I bet she looks radiant."

"I'm hardly unbiased," said Mark, "but yes. She does." Mark paused for a moment, realising he had dominated the conversation. "So how about you? How are things?"

"Fine… busy as usual," said Hugh. "And I'm getting married."

Mark was sure that he had not heard correctly. "What?"

"Married."

"Married to whom?"

There was a pause. "To Anna."

He felt a poke on his forearm. Bridget had come into the room, surprise and curiosity evident on her face. She mouthed the words, "Married? Who?"

Still looking at his wife, Mark said, "Hugh. You're getting married to Anna?"

Bridget's eyes went round, her mouth dropping open.

Another pause. "Mark, I know you're a bit distracted lately, but please tell me you remember me mentioning Anna."

"Of course," he lied, "of course."

Bridget stole the receiver out of his hand. "Hugh!" she squealed. "You're getting married? When did this happen?" She looked like a giddy child on Christmas morning, her smile spreading from ear to ear, making high-pitched noises of excitement between rapid-firing more questions at his friend like, "Where did you propose? What sort of ring? Did you set a date? When can we meet her?"

"Bridget," he said sternly. "Stop bouncing around." He grasped her waist at the hips and sat her upon his lap.

"Oh, Hugh, I'm very happy for you," she continued unabated. "Yes, yes, we'd love to come." Her eyes glanced to Mark. "Oh, he won't care. See you then!"

She pressed the button on the handset to hang up the call, then turned and beamed at him. "How exciting!"

"What would we love to go to?" Mark asked in a playfully dangerous tone.

"Hugh's having a dinner party," she said. "An engagement party. Asked if we would come up for the weekend."

"Which weekend?"

"This weekend."

He was thankful, and she was lucky, that he had no pressing business on the weekend. "He can't possibly put us up on such short notice."

"He can, and offered to do so," she said, as if admonishing a dull-witted child. "It'll be fun!"

He wondered how fun the drive to Stratford would be when a jaunt to Tesco was longer than she liked in her pregnant state. But he could only smile and pull her into an embrace. "Of course it will be."

"Mark," she began, pulling back to look at him with a wry twist of a smile on her face. "You have no idea who Anna is, do you?"

"Hugh's girlfriend. Fiancée," he amended quickly.

"When did they start seeing each other?"

"Christmas," Mark guessed in a confident tone.

She pursed her lips. "Just before. Lucky guess."

He chuckled. "As Hugh said," Mark responded, running his hand flat against her belly, "I've been a bit distracted."

………

Mark spent a good deal of the next night planning the route to Stratford. He knew the way like the back of his hand, but he wanted to make sure there were places to stop and eat or use the loo along the way. He knew it would be necessary, because if he'd learned anything about Bridget and pregnancy, it was to keep the freezer stocked with chocolate ice cream, the pantry with lots of Branston pickle, and to keep a loo within sight at practically all times.

She had gone to lie down after supper, and when he was finished, he went upstairs to see how she was. She was sitting in bed reading, the book propped on her belly, before she looked up to him. "I'm fine. Think I overdid it. Sometimes I think there's not as much room in there for the stomach, anymore," she said, pointing to her abdomen. "What were you doing?"

"Planning our drive tomorrow."

"Ah," she glanced down again. "Figured it was something like that. Thought maybe you'd gone out for drinks and snacks for the ride."

"No." He sat beside her. "I'll just stop by the store on our way out of town."

She smiled. "Of course. That would be the most efficient plan."

"I'm glad you agr—" He stopped, seeing she was fighting back a giggle. "What's so funny?

"You are," she said. "Your little quirks, which, by the way, I love, even when they drive me mad."

He smiled, leaning to kiss her. "For that I am wholly grateful."

………

They set out for Stratford on Friday morning, allowing plenty of time for a leisurely drive. With every small town they passed through, he asked if she needed to stop and stretch, wanted something to eat, needed to use the toilet.

"Mark," she said somewhat crossly after three such pass-throughs. "If I need any of those things, I'll let you know."

He turned back to the road, not responding. He felt her hand on his on the steering wheel.

"I know you're just trying to see to my comfort," she said, "and I appreciate it, I really do. I didn't mean to snap."

He glanced to her, and the sight of her, gorgeous and glowing there in the passenger seat, immediately wiped away any irritation he might have had with her. "It's all right."

She smiled back to him. "Though now that you mention it," she said, "I could use a loo soon."

He fought the urge to clench his jaw. Sometimes he thought they were such a good match because she seemed to drive him mad about as frequently as she claimed the same. "Yes, love."

By his calculations there was a village just a few more kilometres down the road, and he was right. They found a little pub in which they could stop for a snack; Bridget decided a plate of chips would be perfect, so he ordered them for her while she used the ladies.

"Where you heading?" asked the proprietor.

"Stratford. To visit a friend for the weekend."

The old man smiled, nodding in the direction of the toilets. "Lovely bride you have there."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"When's the baby due?"

"July."

He grinned. "It'll be a long summer for your wife, carrying that extra burden in the heat."

"That's why I hope to keep her indoors as much as possible," said Mark. "The house stays cool. Air conditioning."

"Lucky for her," the fellow said. "Though she might start to get a little stir crazy."

She returned at that moment with a confused smile. "Stir crazy?"

"Staying in out of the heat all summer," offered the old man.

She laughed. "Yes, I will go crazy if I stay in all summer."

"But you'll be—" he began, then stopped. If he said 'huge', she would not speak to him the rest of the drive. "—very pregnant by then."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"My wife was pregnant with our daughter during the summer," said the old fellow. "She was miserable. Stay inside if you can; take my word for it."

Bridget looked to him, then back to Mark with a smile. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky to have the option to go stir crazy inside an air-conditioned house."

"Let me get those chips for you," said the man. "Should be all fried up by now. Be right back."

They took a table and the man returned presently with the big plate of chips, a glass of milk for Bridget and a soda water with lime for Mark. He had a few chips himself and they were exceptionally delicious. Before long they were back on the road, before long they were stopping again to use the loo, and sooner than Mark expected they were hitting the outskirts of Stratford, passing the hospital in which he knew Hugh worked, passing through town, until finally arriving at Hugh's house.

"Captain Old Man! Nice to see you!" It was Hugh, grinning from ear to ear. Mark had phoned ahead to let them know their approximate arrival time, and so was ready and waiting for them. He had taken the day off. "And look at you, Bridget! You look amazing!" He reached out to embrace her. "Seems there's a little more between us now."

She giggled, hugging him back enthusiastically. "It's nice to see you too," she said as she pulled away. "Where's Anna?"

"You don't get to meet her just yet," said Hugh. "She's working. She'll be over later. But you know, that gives us some time to catch up. Four months along, right?"

Bridget grinned. "Thereabouts, yes."

Hugh held out his hand, hovering just over her belly. "May I?"

"Of course!"

He laid his hand flat against her pregnant stomach, moving it around slightly, his smile changing and broadening. "Things progressing along nicely," he said. "I'm glad. Come on, I'll take you to the spare room. It's right next to the loo."

Mark chuckled. "Very wise."

At just that moment a black streak shot across the floor and up the stairs to the second level. "Oh!" said Bridget. "Was that Wicksy?"

"Yep," said Hugh. "It's that mysterious time of day when he just starts zooming around the house. I've come to refer to it as 'The Hour of Scampering'. Which, strangely enough, happens several times a day."

"I hope he remembers me."

"Darling, he's a cat," said Mark.

"He'll remember you," said Hugh confidently. "He always does."

As if planned, when they entered the guest room, Wicksy was sitting attentively on the foot of the bed, looking expectantly at the three of them.

"You see?" said Hugh. "As I said."

Bridget walked forward, her hand extended to the cat, who touched his nose to her fingers, sniffing delicately, then pressed his head up against her hand. Bridget cooed and pet him, scratching under his chin and ruffling his ears as she sat on the bed. He purred, flipped over on his side, and let her rub his tummy.

"Be sure to wash your hands when you're done," Mark admonished.

"Oh, Mark, he's just a cat," she said.

"No, he's right," said Hugh. "I keep the litter box very clean but he does occasionally use it." At her blank look, he added, "You've had enough trouble with parasites. Just trust me on this one."

"Plus you are still allergic," Mark added.

She deflated. "Yeah."

"I do rinse him down twice a week with water to help keep down the dander and such," said Hugh. "Anna's got a mild allergy so it really helps."

Bridget smiled again. "You're a good cat daddy."

"I'm sure he loves that," said Mark with a chuckle, sitting on the bed, reaching to pet Wicksy. At that moment, he rolled to his feet, hissed, and dashed out of the room.

Hugh had trouble containing his laughter. "Some things never change."

They headed back downstairs; Bridget planted herself on the sofa while Mark and Hugh went to the kitchen. "Want a beer?" Hugh asked.

"Yes, actually," he said. "I'd love one."

"What's Bridget fancying these days to drink? Must be tough… no wine, no ciggies," Hugh joked.

"Milk, actually," he replied as Hugh popped the caps off of two bottles of Guinness. "She can't get enough milk right now."

Hugh chuckled. "I suppose there are worse things she could be craving," he said. "I have some skim milk. Think that'll be all right?"

"I don't think she'd turn it down," returned Mark, "though strangely enough it's full fat milk she's taking in by the litre."

"I heard that," called Bridget's voice from the other room. Mark chuckled.

"You two," said Hugh, pouring Bridget a big glass of milk, then setting the container back onto the counter. "You're just… wow. Wonderful to see."

"Is there a sentence in there?" joked Mark, picking up his wife's drink.

Smirking, Hugh took hold of then raised his bottle and touched the neck of his to Mark's in a sort of toast. "I'm already happy. I just pray I'll be as blessed in married life as you are."

Mark smiled, and nodded in agreement. He was really looking forward to meeting Anna.

They joined Bridget in the living room. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the glass of milk, which she reached for with both hands, leaning forward.

"I dare not think what things will be like for my mobility in a couple more months," said Bridget, resting back again, "I already feel like a beached whale. Just think, in the sixth or seventh month I won't be able to get up off of the sofa on my own."

Mark thought again how opposite of a beached whale he thought she looked; rather, she had the appearance of a golden, radiant, earth-mother goddess about her.

"Mark," said Hugh quietly in a low tone. "Think you might have dropped the ball there." Mark realised Bridget was looking a bit hurt. Belatedly he realised she was expecting a verbal rebuttal of the beached whale comment.

"Sorry, love," he said to his wife. "I was just thinking…" he began, before telling her exactly what he had just been pondering. From the way she was smiling at him, the soft set of her eyes, he knew all was forgiven.

"Oooh," said Hugh. "I'm going to have to remember that one for future reference."

"So," said Bridget. "Details. I want details. I thought you'd met her at that holiday social thing at your hospital, but that's all I know."

Hugh grinned, looking unusually shy. "Yes, we did meet at the holiday mixer," he said. "She hadn't been working at the hospital long, maybe started a month or so prior. Our paths just hadn't crossed, because she works in hospital administration, and, of course, I do not."

"So when did this get so serious?" asked Mark. "I mean… Christmas wasn't more than two months ago."

"This," teased Hugh, "from a man who proposed to his wife after only—"

"Point taken," interrupted Mark. "Though you forget I first saw her naked more than thirty years ago."

At this Hugh laughed uproariously; Bridget turned deep crimson and threw a pillow at her husband.

"My hours are a little bit more on par with banker's hours now that I've moved up the chain in my department," he said. "I guess having a more regular work schedule means a more regular not-work schedule. Before I knew it we were spending as much free time together as we had." He looked pointedly at Bridget, then to Mark again. "I do hope you two like her, because I really do want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Bridget smiled tenderly. "You hardly need our approval."

"Oh, I know that," he said with a grin. "But it would still mean a lot to me, seeing as I know you merely tolerated Louisa, Mark." Mark recollected Hugh's first wife with no fondness at all as Hugh turned his eyes to Bridget again. "Maybe if I tell you she's a big Jane Austen fan that'll score some points with you…?"

Bridget beamed a smile.

Mark, on the other hand, said in a rather dark tone, "Does this mean we'll be watching that bloody mini tonight?"

Hugh and Bridget exchanged looks and stifled their respective laughs. Hugh mimed a zipper across his lips as Bridget teased, "Well, now there's an idea…"

………

Feeling slightly fatigued from the drive, Bridget had announced she was going to have a lie-down upstairs on the bed. Mark had offered to join her, but she simply smiled and told him to just spend the time with his friend. They flipped on the telly and watched some football, getting into good-natured arguments about which team was best, who the best players were and how badly each others' favourite teams would get pummelled on the pitch, until they heard a key in the lock. Hugh turned off the telly and went to the door to meet his fiancée. Mark rose to meet her, too.

She came into the house; Hugh met her with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. She was taller than Bridget, with short dark hair, hazel eyes, and a trim figure. Anna also appeared to be about their own age, which Mark approved of; he had hoped his friend's intended wasn't some kind of bid to reclaim his youth, and Louisa had really been too young for him.

"Have they arrived?" she asked, then seemingly spotted Mark just as she asked it. "Oh! I see that they must have." She smiled and went over to where Mark stood. "You must be Mark. I have heard nothing but good things about you."

"And you must be Anna. A pleasure to meet you," he replied, offering his hand for a shake, which she accepted.

Anna's expression turned to one of confusion, though. "I understood your wife was coming with you."

"She's upstairs," he said. "I'll go and wake her."

"Oh, no, don't wake her on my account," said Anna.

"It's all right," he said. "She's looking forward to meeting you, and it's nearly suppertime, anyway."

She smiled.

Mark went upstairs and smiled at the sight that greeted him: Bridget sound asleep under the covers, and Wicksy curled into a ball just behind her knees, fast asleep himself. Gingerly he sat on the bed beside her and ran his fingers over her cheek. "Darling," he said. "Time to wake up. Anna's here."

Sleepily she blinked her eyes, then turned to look at him. "Oh," she said, yawning and stretching such that Wicksy raised his head, showing his obvious distaste in both her movement, and the sudden presence of Mark. He however stayed put, even when Bridget sat up.

"Do I look all right?" she asked. "Is my hair, makeup all mussed?"

He raised his hand and smoothed down her hair, then cupped her cheek. "You look fine."

She pushed back the sheet and got to her feet. Wicksy did not budge. "Still, let me have a moment in the—Ooh," said Bridget, her expression changing to something indefinable; for a moment he thought maybe she had gotten dizzy, but her hand shot out and grabbed his, pressing it flat against her stomach.

His eyes broadened and met hers as he felt what all the fuss was about. It wasn't strong, more like a fluttering, and it wasn't constant, and as soon as it began, it stopped. But he knew what he felt.

She had tears in her eyes. "He's kicking."

"I didn't think—" he began.

She knew that he meant he hadn't expected kicking yet. "She did say after sixteen weeks."

He smiled broadly and pulled her close in an embrace. "I'm so glad I was up here with you," he said into her hair. "I don't want to miss any of these firsts."

She giggled. "I suspect he would have been content for me to carry on sleeping—that he wouldn't have kicked if you hadn't roused me awake."

He pulled back and wiped the tears of joy away from under her eyes, and smiled. "I'm still glad to have been here."

She smiled in such a way that told him she was glad too. "Oh!" she said. "They're going to wonder what's taking so long. Do I really look all right?"

"Yes," he replied. "You really do."

They went back downstairs to where Hugh and Anna were; the sound of their footfalls on the stairs caused the two of them to turn and rise from the sofa.

"Hi," said Bridget, her left hand on her stomach, her right extending to shake Anna's. "I'm Bridget, and you of course must be Anna."

Anna smiled, accepting the shake. "I am indeed. Very nice to meet you at last."

With ever the observant eye, Hugh asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes," gushed Bridget. "Baby kicked for the first time whilst we were upstairs."

Hugh's eyes broadened and he grinned. "Really?" He bent as if to speak into Bridget's stomach. "You anxious to get out and get kicking for Man U? Hm?"

Mark laughed, and he slipped his arm about his wife's waist, pulling her close to him. "Oh no. Newcastle all the way."

"How far along are you?" asked Anna.

"A hair over sixteen weeks," Bridget said.

"That makes you due in…"

"July."

"That must be very exciting for you," she said pleasantly with a smile.

"Oh, yes," said Bridget breathlessly. She was clearly waiting for Anna to respond, but Anna never did. Hugh didn't seem to think anything odd about it, and in fact looked up with a smile.

"Had an idea for supper," said Hugh brightly. "It's a lovely, sunny day. Perfect day for a barbecue, and I've got some burger patties."

"Hugh," said Mark. "It's the end of February. It's cold outside."

"Where's your sense of adventure, old man? We'll be cooking over a flame. Well, gas flame, anyhow. What do you think, ladies?"

"Oh, that sounds marvellous!" said Bridget, clapping her hands.

Anna on the other hand merely smiled her approval; she seemed a very sedate woman, which seemed good for the outgoing Hugh, who had already experienced life with a woman too much like him. "I suppose I could chop up some vegetables for a salad, if you'd like to join me." She looked at Bridget.

"Sure."

Hugh grabbed a tower of preformed meat patties from the refrigerator, a stack of cheddar slices, a plate and a turner. After slipping into their coats, the men headed out to the backyard, where his gas grill sat ready and waiting. "Do you use this frequently?" Mark asked, pushing his hands into his coat pockets.

"I do," Hugh said proudly, firing up the gas. "Quick and easy, and nothing beats flame-grilled hamburgers."

Mark couldn't help but laugh lightly. "I've always known this, but it bears saying: you're mental."

"Why, thank you." He threw the patties down one by one, which hit the grill with a satisfying sizzle.

"So. Engaged."

Hugh grinned, not looking away from his task. "Yep."

"When did that happen?"

"You're going to think me terribly cliché," said Hugh, "but on Valentine's Day."

Mark chuckled. "Whatever works."

"If it helps it to seem less sappy," he said, "it was in the coffee shop at the hospital."

At this Mark laughed outright. "Hey, I suppose we can't all get engaged in the hallways of Inns of Court."

Hugh smirked, pushing the burgers around, poking them with the edge of the flipper; after a few minutes of this Hugh obviously decided that they were adequately cooked on that side, so he flipped each over one at a time. "Are you going to want cheese on yours?"

"Hm. Yes."

"How many patties do you want?"

"I think two will suffice."

"Bridget?"

Mark thought about her increased appetite lately. "Probably the same."

"Cheddar?"

"Yes. For myself and for Bridget."

There was a pleasant, comfortable silence as they waited for the patties to finish cooking up. "You know," Hugh said at last. "I don't think I have ever known you to be so transparent with your feelings."

"What do you mean?"

"Very different from the Mark I knew once," he continued. "Your utter happiness is shining through."

"I suppose I can't help it… and I have little reason to hide it anymore," said Mark, then added, "You seem pretty happy, yourself."

Hugh grinned, pulling the last of the cooked patties off of the grill then switching off the gas. "Burger time. Have some lovely whole grain cobs to put these on."

When they arrived back into the house, it appeared that all of the vegetables for the salad had been chopped and were already tossed in a big bowl. Anna looked up and smiled as she whisked something in a little pitcher. Seated on a stool, Bridget looked pensive, brows furrowed slightly, until she noticed their arrival.

"Everything okay?" Mark asked, wrapping his arm about her shoulder, looking down into her eyes. "Feeling all right?"

"Oh, yes," said Bridget. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "You looked—"

"Just a bit of a headache," she said sharply, telling him in no uncertain terms that she had no such affliction, and not to pursue the line of questioning any further. He was perplexed. Mark had thought, and it had certainly seemed, that Bridget had liked Anna upon meeting, just as he had; he couldn't help but wonder what they had been chatting about or what had happened whilst the men were out grilling. He suspected he would find out later.

"Oh," said Bridget, in a completely different tone, back to her old self. "That smells heavenly. I'm ravenous all of a sudden."

"My lovely little carnivore," said Mark, kissing her on the temple. He heard Hugh chuckle as he cut the rolls in half.

"It's the baby, I swear," she said in her own defence. "Greedy little starving thing."

"And I'm sure you normally despise cheeseburgers," teased Hugh. Bridget and Mark both chuckled.

"Here's the dressing," offered Anna, holding the pitcher forward. "My family's recipe."

Bridget picked it up, held the pitcher to her nose. "Mmm, balsamic vinegar and… oregano?"

Anna grinned. "Yes. A little basil and thyme, too."

Mark suddenly felt a little badly for the woman. They all had been friends for so long—Mark and Hugh longest, obviously—that their little in-jokes and banter had the potential for inadvertently making her feel excluded. He knew he would have to be more aware of their dynamic in future. It was very much like Bridget to pick up on that and to try to make her feel included.

"That sounds delicious," said Mark supportively.

"All right," said Hugh, handing Bridget and Mark a plate each. With the gigantic rolls he'd put those burgers on, Mark was suddenly not sure he could actually eat two. Mark reached forward for the salad tongs and grabbed a bunch of greenery for Bridget, then for himself.

"Salad?" offered Mark to Anna.

She grinned. "Yes, please."

They took their food to the table as Hugh served up beverages; a beer apiece for the men, a glass of wine for Anna, and another big glass of milk for Bridget. Hugh raised his bottle and offered a toast: "To good friends and long, happy lives."

Mark had to concede Hugh the point that the flame-broiled hamburgers were exceptionally delicious, but with all of that food, he found that he could not finish his second cheeseburger. He set it down, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied post-meal sigh.

He wondered if his non-verbal communications were as transparent as his emotions lately, or if Bridget just knew him that well, but as he leaned back, she leaned forward and grabbed the three-quarters-remaining cheeseburger he'd left on his plate.

Mark turned and stared at her in what he imagined was an ungainly way as she took a giant bite out of his remnant. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark could see Hugh trying desperately not to laugh, and Anna looking at him almost murderously.

She finished up the cheeseburger, then licked her fingers tidily. "I told you," Bridget said haughtily. "Greedy little starving thing." At her grin, Hugh could no longer hold in his laugh, nor could Mark; he saw Anna offer a hesitant smile, too.

They retired to the living room for more socialising. Mark sat back on the loveseat, and as usual Bridget sat beside him and curled up into the crook of his arm; she liked to lean on him, and he suspected she would like it more once her stomach got bigger.

Hugh apologised as he hovered in front of the sofa that Anna had taken a seat on. "Sadly, I did not think of dessert, but I have some store-bought biscuits if you're interested."

"If there's chocolate involved, I'm in," piped up Bridget.

"Oooh. I don't have room for another bite," said Anna, leaning back against the sofa. "But thank you."

Hugh returned with a tray, another glass of milk for Bridget and a platter of chocolate biscuits, which he set upon the centrally located coffee table. Bridget grabbed the milk glass and about four biscuits and leaned back into Mark's embrace. She raised one up in front of Mark's mouth; he took a little nibble off of it, as it only seemed the proper and right thing to do.

"I may need to run down to the market," said Hugh with a grin, sitting down next to his fiancée. "I'm just about out of milk."

"Oh, Hugh, I'm sorry," said Bridget after a particularly long gulp of milk. He held back a chuckle, seeing a milk moustache on her top lip, but it didn't last long; she licked it away.

"I'll go and buy it if you want," offered Mark.

"No," said Anna. "I'll pop out for some milk. It's no trouble at all."

"Let me give you a few pounds to cover the expense," said Mark, reaching back for his wallet.

"No," said Anna. "Don't worry about it. Least I can do. Anything else you want me to pick up?" she asked Hugh.

"Can't think of anything."

Anna stood up, smoothing down her trousers, and going for her coat and purse at the door. "Won't be but a few," she said with a smile before leaving.

Moments after she left, Hugh asked with a great air of anticipation, "So? What do you think?"

"She seems very nice," said Mark. Bridget was curiously silent, only nodded.

"I think she's nervous, meeting the two of you," Hugh went on. "She's not usually quite this, I don't know. Reserved."

"I'm sure she'll be more like herself once she gets to know us better," said Mark in an optimistic tone.

"Yes," added Bridget. "I'm sure."

Hugh's smile relaxed. "So, what's on the agenda for this evening? Stratford has its charms, but it's no London when it comes to nightlife."

Bridget patted her belly in a very subconscious, sweet way. "I haven't been much of a night-lifer since I got myself up the duff," she said with a grin, causing the men to chuckle. "You know us, Hugh. We don't need to be entertained. Whatever you and Anna like to do on your Friday nights is fine by me."

Hugh smiled. "Popcorn and a movie, perhaps?"

"I thought we said no BBC minis," said Mark in a mock-serious tone.

"No, I just picked up a copy of The Lion in Winter," said Hugh. "Katharine Hepburn, Peter O'Toole, Anthony Hopkins… dysfunctional family dynamics, scandal, betrayal and trickery. Really, what's not to love?"

"Sounds great," said Bridget wryly with a big grin.

………

Once Anna returned with the milk—enormously apologetic that she hadn't known to pick up whole—Hugh got the popcorn going, pulled two more bottles of Guinness out, and along with a glass of juice for Anna, came back into the sitting room to embark into what Mark soon found to be a masterpiece of filmmaking. He was utterly drawn in, as was Bridget, who was completely silent save for a request to pause so she could use the loo, and a comment about how Prince Geoffrey could have been a separated-at-birth twin of Mark's Uncle Nick.

Upon the conclusion of the film, it was a broad, unfettered yawn from his wife that made him realise it was getting to be a little late; Bridget had always been more of a night owl than an early bird, but with the advent of pregnancy, she seemed to need more sleep than she used to.

"Think we best be heading to bed," said Mark as she blinked sleepily and nodded.

"Oh, hey, of course." Hugh reached for the remote, switched off the telly and turned up the light level on the lamp. "You know where everything is, right?"

"Yes," said Mark. "Thanks."

"Mmm," said Bridget. "We have a slight problem." She looked to her lap, where Mark saw, now that the light was brighter, that Wicksy had curled into a ball and fallen fast asleep. He knew full well that Bridget wouldn't want to disturb him.

"Here," said Anna, closest to Bridget rose to her feet. "Let me take him." Anna reached forward for the cat, but before she could touch him, his head raised up, his whiskers in full array, and he hissed before dashing off into the dark of the house.

She smiled sheepishly. "He doesn't seem to like me," Anna said. "I'm still trying to get him to warm to me."

"He's a picky cat. It's just a matter of time," said Hugh, leaning forward to take her hand.

Anna smiled affectionately at him before looking to Mark and Bridget again. "Well, it was very nice to meet the both of you," she said. "I should be heading home, myself."

Mark was confused, and saw that his wife was, too. Anna wasn't staying? Before he and Bridget were living together, it was all he could do not to spend the night with her every chance he got.

"Very true," said Hugh. "Tomorrow's going to be a very long day, with all of the prep, the cleaning and the cooking."

Anna got to her feet, then bent to peck a kiss on Hugh's lips. "See you in the morning."

Hugh rose and gathered up the popcorn bowl, and the empty glasses and beer bottles, taking them to the kitchen as she let herself out. Once she was gone and Hugh returned from his task, Bridget asked, "She's not staying over?"

Hugh smirked; Mark thought it looked a bit sheepish. "You're going to think it a little strange," he said, "but we decided not to have sex until we're married."

"What?" returned Mark.

Bridget's eyes shot open. "Really?"

Hugh nodded.

"Was that your idea?" she asked, tilting her head, curiosity obviously getting the better of her.

"We both agreed on it," he said. "Thought it was romantic."

"Whatever makes you happy," Mark commented, then added, thinking of the long week of abstention just before he and Bridget were wed, "though you're made of stronger stuff than I am if you can last that long."

"Most couples can actually make it the distance between the stationery shop and one's flat," said Bridget with a wink to Mark. He heard Hugh sputter a chuckle.

"We did not have sex in the street," said Mark, feeling his face flush red.

"It's true, we didn't," Bridget said with a giggle, then got up on her toes to peck a kiss on his lips. "But it was touch and go there for a few moments, wouldn't you say?"

Hugh was too busy to do anything but watch the volley go back and forth and laugh. Mark only pursed his lips, which only made her burst out with a louder laugh.

"My poor Mark," she said, turning away to look to Hugh. "How will he ever get through the next five months?"

Mark felt like he had just slipped into the land of gibberish. "Get through? What are you talking about?"

"The baby, silly," she said, looking back to him earnestly. "Obviously now that he's developed enough to kick, it would be weird to… you know."

This was one conversation he wished they'd had sooner… and one he did not want to have even in front of Hugh. For his part, Hugh seemed to feel the same: "—And on that note, I bid you good night and sweet dreams." He shot Mark a sympathetic look before heading up the stairs for his own room.

Bridget yawned jaw-crackingly wide again. "I am knackered," she said wearily. "Come on, off to bed with us."

Lost in thought, he waited for her to begin scaling the stairs; he would abstain if that was what she wanted, but he knew it was going to be a long five months for him.

He slipped out of his shoes and socks, then dug through his overnight bag, looking for clean smalls to set out for the next day while Bridget did her nightly toilette in the loo; she returned with her face freshly washed, her hair brushed out on her shoulders, and a smile for him.

"What?" he asked, standing upright, clean boxers in hand.

"Nothing in particular," said Bridget. "Just love you, is all."

He grinned, his resolve strengthening to give her anything and everything she wanted. "Get your pyjamas on and get comfortable," he said. "I'll be right back, okay?"

She nodded, drawing the sheets back as he left the bedroom to brush his teeth and otherwise wash up for the night.

He returned minutes later to find the bedside lamp was on, and she was beneath the covers, had them drawn to her chin. He half-expected she would already be sleeping, as broadly and as much as she'd been yawning, but she wasn't. Her blue eyes were trained on him, and she had a subtle smile on her face.

"All comfy?" he asked, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Hmm, yes," she said, the smile broadening.

He slipped out of his shirt, then his trousers and boxers, folding them in the order in which they were removed and setting them down on the bureau, destined for the 'dirty laundry' side of his overnight bag. He then turned to join her in bed, but froze in his tracks at the sight that greeted him:

She had thrown the sheet back and was reclined against the pillows in perfect nakedness; she was veritably shining, full and rounded in her repose, smiling wickedly now. He felt his heart start to race as his eyes feasted on her every beautiful curve. At last he unfroze and spoke, or tried to. "Bridget, is this some kind of test of my willpower?"

She chuckled, raising her chin. "Mark, come to bed."

"Bridget," he said again, his voice nearly cracking.

"Oh, silly man," she said, patting the bed beside her. "I would have thought you'd know by now when I was teasing you."

He tried not to run to the bed and dive in, because that would have been uncouth (not to mention he might have tripped on his shoes), so he strode to the bed with great intent, sat down then slipped his legs under the sheets, and regarded her at close range before slipping the sheets over the both of them.

"Hugh must think you're the cruellest woman on earth," he breathed.

"Hugh saw me wink," she breathed in return.

With that, he covered her mouth with his and leaned into her. It wasn't the first time they'd made love since they'd learned of her pregnancy, but a small part of him had wanted her all the more when he thought he might not have the chance again for several months. Something about her that night seemed softer, sweeter, more lush, like a ripened fruit waiting to be plucked; she was somehow orders of magnitude more desirable than usual, which was saying quite a lot as that bar was pretty high under normal circumstances, anyway.

In his haste he nearly neglected to take care to account for her fuller stomach—which somehow seemed that much fuller since the last time they'd been intimate—but he did, and was abundantly rewarded for his efforts.

When she laid next to him afterwards, he could feel that fullness against his hip as she traced her fingers along his chest. "There isn't any way I could go until baby's born without that," she said, tracing her fingers to his bare hip.

"We may have to get creative as the months go on," he murmured in return. Reverently his spread his hand over her stomach. "To account for this."

She smiled sleepily, then reached up and placed a kiss on the underside of his chin. "I can't imagine you not giving it your very best effort, love," she said.

He laid there holding her, realised his lids were drooping, so figured he might as well switch the lamp off. He reached to do that, then held her close again, and with warm thoughts of their lovemaking fresh in his mind paired with the pleasant events of the day behind them as well as anticipation of more of the same in the day to come, he felt himself drifting towards the edge of sleep.

Except…

"Bridget?" he asked quietly. "Are you still awake?"

She muttered something incoherent.

"Darling," he continued. "Did something happen between you and Anna when we were outside?"

"Not now," said Bridget groggily.

He tried a different tack. "What did you think of Anna?"

No reply for a long while, until she responded:

"She doesn't love him."

Mark was so astounded by her response he immediately asked, "What? How do you know? Are you sure?"

However, there was no reply, only soft snoring.

Mark's mind was set to whirling, and as much as he tried to push down the thought he could not keep from comparing her words to Peter's pronouncement on the veritable eve of his own first marriage: You say that you love her, Mark. I just haven't gotten the feeling that she feels the same about you.

More importantly, more troubling to him was: What on earth would prompt Bridget to draw such a conclusion? He thought back over the day spent in Anna and Hugh's company, trying to recollect some small clue, something she said or had done, that would have led Bridget to make such a pronouncement. After many minutes he finally decided that it must have been something that had happened while he and Hugh had been at the grill. He would just have to wait to ask Bridget about it in the morning.

It didn't make falling to sleep any easier.

End Notes:

A review of BJD (film and book, recommended read) by Cara Ann Lane / University of Washington, mentions Mark and his past relationship with women, which I found interesting and very much in tune with how I'd imagined it:

However, the catch to this characterization is his tendency to be manipulated and controlled by the women in his life. While exhibiting his sensitivity and awareness of the needs of others, he is hesitant to stand up for his own desires. His mother and his law partner/girlfriend both make most of the decisions in his life. The film suggests his ex-wife, who had an affair with Daniel (one of the factors leading to this fight), exercised similar control over Darcy. Despite his generally mild demeanor, Darcy has a strong desire to be more carefree and independent. When he sees Bridget and Daniel acting outrageously while boating - splashing about, falling in the water, and shouting - he is envious of their ability to be so spontaneous.

I didn't make up "The Hour of Scampering". It's from Babylon 5.

The Lion in Winter: The in-joke here is that Prince Geoffrey was played by John Castle, who went on to star as Uncle Nick in Lost Empires… and became the model for my Uncle Nick.

Want actual links? See story on LJ.