Obligatory Disclaimer: My buddy Silvio Horta and his ABC minions own all; although I'm trying to get him to leave me Daniel in his will…
A/N: This is a one-shot that takes place in the same universe as my "Positions" series, in that Betty and Daniel are married and about to pop out a lovely little wrinkled baby girl named Rosa Claire Suarez-Meade. "Back to the Fetal Position" isn't done yet, and I apologize for that, but I kind of lost my way again with that one. This fic takes place afterwards…I apologize for any weirdness and hope it's a nice n' fluffy reading experience for all my fellow Detty shippers.
"What about this? Isn't it darling?" Christina held up the dress in all its tiny, yellow, frilly glory.
Betty was a sucker for some lace—and she did have her husband's American Express Black Card at her beck and call…God, she was bad, she was a corporate wife, and she was buying that freakin' adorable baby dress, damn it.
Though still in the uterus, Rosa Claire Suarez-Meade already had a wardrobe that would make the late not-so-great Fey Sommers gnash her porcelain teeth with envy. After all, she had the styling efforts of Betty, Hilda, Christina, Justin, Marc, Cliff, Amanda, ecstatic Grandma Claire, Alexis, and, God help her, even Daniel on her side. Baby had the hook-up.
Her cell rang. Betty motioned for Christina to hand over the frilly dress. It was Daniel.
"Remember what we talked about this morning? That sometimes--just occasionally, mind you—I can waddle around on my own two swollen-ass feet without you checking up on me? Not to worry, Rosa is still chilling in the womb, all snug." Although Betty's words were mock-severe, Christina noted amusedly that she was all but making kissy noises into the phone.
"Rosa's not gonna be content to poke around your insides forever, Miss. I want to be there for everything. The breaking of the water, the first contraction, everything. Don't want to miss a second."
"Oh, not to worry. The instant there's any water breakage, the paparazzi will make sure everyone from here to Beijing knows." She picked up a tiny outfit made of chain mail and made a gag-me face. "Ew, gross. You will not believe Bruno Jacob's new line of baby hooker-wear. Anyway, you're about to get very mad at me."
Daniel was silent for a second. "Why, did you let Christina drive again?"
Betty took a picture of the yellow dress with her cell's camera feature.
"Holy creeping Christ on a crutch, woman! Another one! And it's even frillier than the last one!"
Betty clutched it to her. "But the last one was blue, baby. And it had little daises on it, and this has bunnies…bunnies, Daniel…"
"Oh, go ahead and buy it. We can fight over it later. But it'll be really freaking funny if Rosa turns out to be a boy."
"I keep all receipts," she said primly. Fingering the satiny yellow fabric, she whispered, "Love you."
On the other end, Daniel smiled, opening the top drawer of his desk to reveal the oft-looked-at ultrasound photo. "Love you, too, babe. Always."
It was the kind of thing he always said to her, but there was a deep husky note to this voice that said "After this baby pops out, you and I have some very important business to attend to."
Betty hid her face briefly in Christina's shoulder and blushed furiously.
--
Twenty minutes later, Betty's water broke. Rosa was done chilling apparently, and Betty had to hand it to her—the kid had her father and grandmother's sense of inappropriate comedic timing.
She had been at a restaurant with Christina and had just told the server that she wanted water with her meal—lukewarm, no ice. Since she'd gotten pregnant, simple ice seemed to repel her, unless she and Daniel were using it for…never mind. In response to her request for aqua, she felt warmth spread over her thighs that at first didn't register as wetness.
"Um, Christina?"
Christina had looked up from wistfully skimming the wine list. "Yes, love?"
Betty continued to look down at her lap in morbid fascination. "The Meade has landed."
Christina cursed, checked herself, then moved to help Betty stand. The server just stood there awkwardly. "That's one small step for Daniel…" she muttered, before calling the man in question.
--
Daniel was in the middle of a meeting, pacing around the conference room like a caged tiger, when his cell rang. He held up a finger of apology.
Betty's strained voice hit his ears. "You'll have to excuse the mess in the town car, sweetness. Our daughter's decided to make her debut into society." Betty grimaced, looking fearfully out the car window. "And the paparazzi have decided she's ready for her close-up."
Daniel heard a photographer ask his wife how she was feeling. "Like I'm in the process of pushing nine pounds worth of screaming baby out of a hole the size of a golf ball, dumbass," he heard her yell back. He'd never been more proud of her.
Or more scared for her.
"Okay, I'm back," she breathed. "We're headed to Pinecrest Memorial—ouch, damn speed bumps!"
"Hold on, Betty, Daddy's coming!" he yelled. "I'm an attractive—very attractive—confident father-to-be…" he chanted his mantra. He turned and smacked right into the glass wall of the conference room.
God, their kid would need to be triple insured, ASAP.
--
An ice chip pelted Daniel on the forehead and slid off, the sweat there making it all the easier. Betty's cherubic face, arranged in a petulant pout, was mischievous even through her pain.
"Daniel…smile," she grinned magnificently, before tilting her head back and closing her eyes, the first indication of exhaustion she'd deigned to show in these last long hours.
Daniel felt unbelievably proud and unbelievably happy and unbelievably like the world's biggest pussy. He had gotten to do the fun part, after all. His wife was dealing with the squeeze-a-human-being-through-her-hoo-hoo part.
I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…Any baby of his, girl or no, was bound to be big. He himself had been ten frigging pounds, as Claire liked to remind him whenever she needed more capital for her new magazine Hot Flash. Conversations over the past months came flooding back to him, overwhelming him in their intensity. This isn't the sixteenth century, Daniel…they'll just do a Caesarean…you love my SEXY childbearing hips, remember? REMEMBER?
He clutched the proffered cup of ice chips until they crumbled. "What the hell are these things for, anyway?" He let out a shaky laugh. He looked down, unable to watch his Betty writhe in agony any longer. A little hand landed softly on his thigh and rubbed gently. Daniel's eyes rose to meet the warm chocolatey goodness of Betty's.
"How can you be so calm?" he asked desperately, smoothing back the damp tendrils of raven hair. Betty pulled her husband's head onto her shoulder. Daniel sighed, drowning in fear and love and LOVE.
"Because," she whispered, "I have you. And you're strong and wonderful and I'm so looking forward to seeing the beautiful baby girl we've made."
Daniel, as usual, drew his strength from hers. He took a deep, cleansing breath and held out his hand. "Okay. We will get through this." She clasped his hand firmly and they shook on it.
The next contraction hit her then, and she let out a heartrending cross between a sob and a scream that she drew blood from her lip in an effort to stifle.
"Just let it out, baby," Daniel encouraged, even though he fancied it was himself being torn in two.
Betty muttered, "You can't say I didn't take your advice," and proceeded to let out a blue streak that caused even the most jaded nurses to shake their heads in wonder and Daniel to be kind of turned on in spite of everything.
The handsome young Doctor McDreamy (Betty's nickname for him, Daniel noted jealously) strode in like he owned the joint. In several years, he probably would. But for now, Daniel had dubbed him Doogie Howser.
After poking around his wife a bit excessively, Daniel thought, Doogie turned toward him promptly with little fanfare or warning. "Mr. Meade, it's almost time. Are you staying, sir? If so, you need to get washed up, suited up, and sterilized."
He knew what his answer would be. He and Betty had discussed this. He smirked, an unnerving sight to anyone but his wife. "I never thought I'd say this, but come on, Doctor. Sterilize me."
--
"Daddy's gonna buy you a castle and an island and a boat and a pony…well, not a pony, 'cause that might hurt my baby, but how 'bout a nice fluffy chick? Hmm? How does that sound, my pwecious wittle Pwincess Suarez-Meade?"
In response to her father's shmoopy rambling, Rosa gave a tiny, hacking cough and a cluster of saliva bubbles ran down her chin. Betty could already tell that any potential suitors of their daughter would have to undergo an investigation that the FBI would find excessive.
She had large brown eyes, even darker than her mother's, but they had Daniel's doe-like, intensely heart-melting potential. She had soft, black curls like a kitten's fur and Betty's little button nose. Her bow-shaped mouth was her father's entirely. Daniel had declared her baby-doll pretty, but Betty knew he'd thought so even when she'd shot fresh from the womb as a wailing ball of phlegm.
Daniel walked over to the bed where Betty lay quietly convalescing, shoving a bunch of pink and yellow balloons aside.
"Thank you," he whispered. "She's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. That's all you, babe."
"The Meade genes don't exactly produce trolls. She looks more like you, I think."
Daniel mock-huffed. "Can't you ever take credit for anything?"
Betty grinned up at him sassily. "Don't worry, I will next time."
--
Betty arrived at Daniel's apartment tired but happy. The Christmas issue was done, Christina had Rosa for the day and night, and Mommy and Daddy were due for a much-needed break. Daniel had gone up the apartment while Betty chatted with an exasperated Christina about formula, naptimes, poopy diaper disposal, and other savory baby-related topics.
Betty flexed her shoulders, turned the key and opened the door. She fumbled briefly around for the light switch before being swept clear off the floor. "Mfffpf…Daniel!" she squeaked, as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. She knew, though, that he would never let her fall.
She looked up at him to discover that those preternaturally blue eyes were blazing with a feverish intensity. Betty wished briefly, since she seemed to be about to get ravished up one side and down the other, that she had time to get a shower and wash the antiseptic Mode-smell off of her.
"Daniel…" she started meekly. He glanced down at her briefly and began making his way to the back of the apartment. He gave a grunt in response. "I was wondering if I could possibly take a shower before we…"
She was promptly put down and backed against the hallway wall and kissed so thoroughly that all she could do was say "Okay, never mind then." I mean, seriously, that was the kiss to end all kisses. That kiss officially qualified as a sex act. A dirty, raunchy, HOT sex act that involved him starting with her lips, then making his way downward. Shirts were unbuttoned, bra was unfastened, skirt was being lifted…
"Bed…" she croaked out. Daniel grinned for the first time that evening and grabbed her hand. The last time they'd had sex all over the runner in the hallway, both of them couldn't sit for a month due to the carpet burns.
Daniel tugged her into the bedroom, picked her up and deposited her gently on their massive four-poster.
By the glow of candles, she saw that he was getting Stark. Naked. She figured she should, too, but for the moment, all she could do was lean against the bedpost and watch him watch her and feel her blood rush south. Besides, he always liked to undress her himself.
Her shirt had been left to fend for itself back in the hallway, but her bra, Daniel declared, had to go. He always asked her if he could burn it, and she always pretended to be affronted. But, really, she figured in between groans, it would save them both a lot of time. Whenever they made out at work, the bra was always the first thing to go.
They might bicker and fuss and fight, he might support a cause entirely for the publicity while she only wanted to save the whales, he might act like a complete dicksmack and she might live in fluffy-duckling land sometimes, but they always, always met deliciously in the middle.
They hadn't done this since way before Rosa was born, which meant Daniel UnGodly Sperm Count Meade had gone at least six months without sex, which meant oh, boy, was she in for it.
She really, really couldn't wait.
Neither, apparently, could he.
Daniel reached in the nightstand drawer and fumbled around for a condom; finding one, he gave a small sideways smirk of victory, but his eyes remained glazed with the force of a million different emotions and sensations.
Betty, straddling him on his lap, one arm remaining wrapped around his neck, reached out and plucked the condom from his fingers. She rested her sweat-slick forehead against his own and looked at the 99.9 effective ribbed-for-her-pleasure method of birth control in between them.
She tossed it aside.
In response to Daniel's quizzical glance, she whispered, "Remember that campaign you started weeks ago for more kids, and I called you a raving insane-o because Rosa's still in diapers and had just shot out a stream of vomit that I've only seen the likes of on Aliens?"
He nodded briefly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Well, baby," she breathed, pushing him down onto the mattress, "I'm casting my vote."
Well, how'd it go over? Like a million fluffy ducklings or like a turd in a punchbowl at a Meade charity ball? Either way, I have to know. This is a one-shot, but I have more fics in the works, so hang tight :D