For the most part, Flora stayed as her normal sweet self, for which Clive was thankful. He wasn't quite sure how he could handle those intense mood swings he'd heard of. But, as most woman are bound to do, there were times when Flora was completely unreasonable, getting upset over the smallest things. Such a thing did happen, Clive remembered, when he had awoken one morning and found the space next to him empty. Upon hearing loud sobs, he quickly got up to investigate.
He came down the stairs to find Flora sitting on the couch, clutching a cushion, her shoulders shaking. Upon seeing him, her sobs only got louder.
"Flora, hey, what's wrong?" he asked as calmly as he could, while his brain wracked through all the possible explanations. What if something happened to her? Oh god, what if something happened to the baby? What if-
"Th-they canceled it!" she wailed, hugging the cushion closer.
"Huh? Wait, what?" Clive asked, utterly confused.
"My favorite show! Wh-why would they do that?"
He blinked. And burst out laughing. "That's all? Oh, I was worried it was something important!" He was shocked out of laughter when a pillow was promptly thrown at his head. Flora was sitting upright now, all traces of her sadness gone, only to be replaced with anger.
"Oh? Well I am sorry, Mister Dove, that my problems aren't bad enough for them to be important!" she snapped, glaring at him.
Clive chuckled, sat next to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, despite her half-hearted protests. "Sweet, you know I didn't mean it like that." he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She sighed, allowing herself to relax into his arms.
"I know. But I'm just sick of this!" she gestured to her stomach.
Clive frowned. Seeing his expression, she quickly added, "Not like that!" she promised. "I just hate feeling so fat and being ridiculous about the smallest things, and right now the only good thing about this is that I can use my tummy as a table." It was then Clive noticed the nearly empty tub of ice cream on the table next to her.
"That cannot be good for the baby." he muttered, before turning his attention back to Flora. "Hush. You look beautiful." he said truthfully. Flora, despite being six months pregnant, was still rather small.
"Flatterer." she mumbled into his chest.
"Well, what can I do to make things better?" he asked.
Her head snapped up suddenly, her face lighting up as an idea came to her. "I know! I want you to get me plucots and apple-pears."
"Wait. What?"
"Plucots and apple-pears." she said impatiently.
A smirk found its way to his face. "Why, Flora dear, I didn't know you had a thing for hybrid fruits."
She glared at him, searching for another cushion. "Just get the fruit, Dove. After all, I am your very tired, pregnant wife, and you can't possibly get out of this one."
"I'm already out the door, Mrs. Dove." he called, smiling fondly. Sometimes it would just strike him all of a sudden at how different his life is since he met her. But then, a startling thought occurred to him.
Where on earth would he find a plum-apricot and an apple-pear in London?
A/N: Not very happy with how this came out, but please leave a review.