A/N: Another little one-shot! This was another prompt from tumblr, titled, "I'm pregnant." It's set in the ATS universe, but if you haven't read that, you would still be able to follow the events of this story. But, you know, you should still read it because of reasons. Heh.
"I'm pregnant."
Christine stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers grasping the sides of the sink tightly. Her brown curls were hastily shaken away from her face, messily tumbling down her back. Her cobalt eyes were wide as they stared back at her image nervously.
She cleared her throat and repeated, "I'm pregnant."
Her mirror image stared back at her and she found that she could not look at herself any longer. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth as she directed her gaze downwards, her eyes landing on the little stick innocently perched by the side of the counter. The red plus sign blared at her, obvious despite how small it was.
Christine didn't know how to feel. She and Erik had never once discussed the possibility of having a child despite being married for several years. Yes, she had hinted at it, and once or twice she had spotted him watching her affectionately as she spoke to the rare children that visited the opera with their parents, but they had never spoken of it aloud.
They had always been careful whenever they were intimate, and once they exchanged vows, protection became less of a necessity but still an important aspect of their sex life. Lately she had not been taking birth control pills, and with a hot flush she remembered how passion had overtaken them recently, resulting in forgotten wrappers waiting patiently in the drawer by their bedside.
Still, for months they had occasionally forgotten to use protection with no resulting consequences. For a long while, Christine had wondered if they were just unable to conceive, but had never taken the time to confirm her belief. A small part of her didn't want to know if what she feared could be true.
But then he had left for Afghanistan, and all thoughts of having a child with him fled from her mind. A son or daughter could not occupy her thoughts when she was constantly wondering if her husband was going to return to her or not. And when he had returned, scarred and empty, she forgot about the possibility of children completely.
Christine looked up once more at her reflection, biting her lip. From her disheveled hair to the loose sweater hanging off her shoulders, she looked every bit of the scared expecting mother often advertised on Western teenage magazines. Taking a deep breath, she tried again.
"Erik, I'm pregnant."
"You're what?"
Her eyes widened and she whirled around. Erik stood by the door of the bathroom, his lips parted with shock. Golden eyes stared directly into blue, questioning and disbelieving. Christine immediately felt her face drain of colour, finding her mouth go dry.
Erik took a step forwards and she froze in her spot, unable to move as he approached her. "Christine?" he questioned, walking towards her with wide eyes. She couldn't read his expression, couldn't tell what he was thinking. Oh god—was he angry with her? Did he not want a child after all?
Her husband stopped in front of her and suddenly, she found that she could not bear to look into his eyes. Instead, she directed her gaze downwards, staring at their feet. Hers were covered with thick, woollen socks; his clad in smart dress shoes, the black ones he so favoured. She hadn't expected him to return so soon.
"I didn't hear you come back," she mumbled, still staring at his shoes. The laces were still neatly tied; he must have come looking for her as soon as he returned.
"I wanted to see you," he said absently, before his fingers came to rest on her chin, tugging so she was forced to raise her head. Christine shut her eyes tightly.
"Christine," she heard him say, "open your eyes."
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. For some odd reason, she found herself fighting the urge to cry.
"Christine," he said again, "look at me, darling, please."
The desperation in his tone combined with his affectionate term of endearment—Erik had not called her anything but 'Christine' in months—made her comply, and she opened her eyes. Her breath caught upon seeing his golden eyes gazing deeply into hers, brimming with an emotion she could not name.
"What did you say, Christine?" he breathed, searching her eyes. His hands were cupping her face, his thumbs soothingly stroking against her cheeks.
"I'm pregnant," she revealed in a whisper, never breaking their gaze.
Erik visibly shook, his breath escaping his lips in a long shudder. This time it was he who closed his eyes, and he leaned in close to her, pressing his forehead to hers.
"You're pregnant," he repeated. She couldn't tell his reaction from his tone, and it sent a fearful shiver through her. Dismayed, she nodded against his forehead, taking a shaky breath. If he was disappointed, she didn't know what she would do.
"I've checked," she explained softly, "twice. And even if I didn't use the tests, it would have been obvious. I haven't had my period in two months."
Erik swallowed, then to her utter surprise, sank down on his knees in front of her. Her breath hitched as he gently pushed her sweater upwards, exposing her bare stomach to his eyes. It was still flat, but she knew that in coming months a slight bulge would appear, evidence of their growing creation.
And, to her bewilderment, he pressed his lips to her skin in a long, shaky kiss. His hands lightly rested on her hips and she stared down at him, utterly taken aback.
"Erik?" she questioned uncertainly even as he leaned his good cheek against her stomach, holding her close to him.
"You're pregnant," he repeated in a quiet voice, and to her utter joy, he gazed up wonderingly at her. There was no trace of resentment, no disapproval or negativity in his expression—only a pure, honest reflection of his love. It made her heart flutter within her chest.
Slowly, breathlessly, she nodded. She held her breath as he rose to his full height before her, never once taking her eyes away from his as he stood. He held her gaze, bringing a hand up to softly stroke her cheek.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she murmured, unable to bear with his silence as she leaned her cheek into his touch.
"I'm thinking," Erik said softly, "that you are the woman I love, and you're carrying my child—our child—inside you. And I'm thinking that I love you so, so much."
Christine let out a shuddering breath, feeling relief flood through her bones. "So you're okay with this?" she asked anxiously, looking up at him. "You want this?"
"Of course I want this," he murmured, a tender gaze crossing his features. "Christine, I've always wanted this with you. Before, it would have been too dangerous, what with my position in the government and everything, but now that's all over… Unless," —he looked at her worriedly— "you don't want this—?"
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, I want this. You have no idea how much I want this."
Erik sighed in relief. "Good," he intoned, a small smile tugging at his lips. She nodded, her heart almost bursting with fullness. It was too much, this happiness—but surely they deserved it, after everything they had been through.
Now that he had clearly conveyed his happiness, her own excitement was beginning to creep up her throat. She was having a child—a son or daughter—with Erik, the love of her life. They had created a baby within her with their love, through their love. She suddenly found herself unable to control her emotions, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her tightly. A sob escaped her lips and she pressed herself to him, unable to believe this was happening.
"Christine?" he asked, his tone concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she breathed, and smiled widely against his neck. "Absolutely nothing is wrong, Erik. We're having a baby."
He tightened his hold around her. "We are."
"A son or a daughter," she said excitedly. "A baby. Do you want a boy or a girl?"
"Neither, both—it doesn't matter," he smiled, pressing his lips against her neck. "Any child of ours will be perfect to me."
Overcome, Christine pulled back to press her lips to his. Their kiss was sweet and tender, full of promises of their future, of their happiness, and she held him to her tightly. Knowing that he loved her, knowing that he was here with her after months of being apart—it sent the purest, fullest form of love resounding within her chest. God, she adored this man; this wonderful, breathtaking, magnificent man who never failed to love and care for her. He inspired her daily with his quiet strength, never failing to take her breath away. To know that he was here, to know that he was hers—it left her heart thudding wildly within her chest, aching to join with its mate.
He was beautiful and whole and hers, and he was the father of her child. Christine could barely contain her joy that this was happening to them—that after everything they had been through, they were finally given a chance of happiness.
They held each other for a long time, content to share kisses and hugs and bask in their togetherness. And perhaps they could have discovered this miracle somewhere else, somewhere that wasn't a bathroom with a wet sink, but Christine couldn't bring herself to care. Nothing could disrupt this perfection they had finally found in each other's arms—that was growing steadily inside her.
Nothing.