Expectations ...

Disclaimer: All things Twilight are the sole property of the divine Stephenie Meyers. This fan fic is purely for entertainment (mainly mine!) with no other gain. No copyright infringement is intended. Think of it as an homage…

As always, leelator—author of the wickedly funny "How to Seduce a Werewolf", a selection in The Bella and Jacob Chronicles—graciously *cough* gave me the benefit of her beta wisdom, slashing and hacking, then stapling it all together with commas.

Expectations …

BPOV

"Hello?"

"R-rachel?'

"Well, hey, Bella, how are you? That brother of mine taking good care of you?"

"Um, well, he's not here right now. Why I called, Rachel … how do you know if the baby's coming? F-for sure, I mean?"

"Oh wow! Listen, if you think the baby's coming, well, let's just assume it is, for sure. Where the hell is Jake?"

"He picked up a night shift to have more leverage with his family leave since Dr. Conner said I wouldn't deliver, probably, for another two weeks at least, and you know what they say about first babies taking a long time, and—" I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't seem to help it "—and, and Sue and Charlie are in Chehalis at that tribal thing, and Renée doesn't get here till next week, and there's no answer at Emily's, and … I'm here a-alone …" I ran down at that point, unwilling to continue in case my voice started to shake more and I gave away just how frightened I was—fear that mounted as another spasm wrung the lower half of my body.

"O-o-oh!"

"Huh! I've never known Meg Conner to be so far off. Just sit tight, and, um, hang on." She evidently turned away from the phone since I heard only, "Paul! It's Bella, and…" The rest of the exchange was lost. In the background, I could hear the sounds of the Lahote household: TV news, a treble voice piping, "Mommy!" the clatter of some object hitting the floor, the wail of another young child.

Hearing these small noises of domesticity, I was suddenly very uncertain about my future—everything was about to change, irrevocably. Suddenly, I wasn't at all sure I wanted any of it: labor, child birth, parenthood, the whole lot. Why had I ever thought it was a good idea? I looked around my living room rather wildly, as if to find a place I could go to resign from the whole business. A movement inside me was a reminder that I wasn't the only one involved.

Rachel was back. "Okay, call Dr. Conner to tell her you're on your way. We'll have you at the Forks hospital in 20-30 minutes, tops. Wait by the door—and BREATHE!"

Following orders, I left a message with the OB's service and tried Jacob's cell phone again. Still no answer; no telling where he was. I called the Parks Department dispatcher who said she'd keep on it and send someone out to look for him. For once I was glad to be part of a small community where everyone knew my business.

The contractions had been coming, off and on, since late afternoon. I just assumed they were another round of Braxton-Hicks—heaven knew I'd been having plenty of those lately—but as the evening wore on, the frequency, and intensity, increased.

Uneasily, I wondered if it was because we'd had sex the night before. Dr. Conner said it was entirely permissible, even in the late third trimester. She just recommended gentle, shallow penetration and said I should avoid orgasm as it might start contractions. She even remarked that, in her opinion, parents who loved each other so much could only be good for the fetus.

Fetus, ugh. I hated that word. It didn't sound like Jake's and my baby at all!

Avoiding orgasm wasn't difficult, I hadn't been comfortable enough to let go to that extent. Hadn't been comfortable in what felt like a lifetime for that matter, not with the huge, unwieldy mound that was hanging off my body. Jake needed it (he denied it, but I knew him too well) and I needed the closeness. It was nice, even though I felt about as sexy as a beached whale.

So there I was, having contractions anyway, with my husband God only knew where.

Waiting was awful. Fears that were temporarily held at bay while I busied myself with phone calls, started to overwhelm me again. I sat down heavily in one of the hard chairs at the dining table. My body longed for a more accommodating seat, but it was such a struggle to get up from the sofa and I just couldn't face that at the moment.

Deep breath in, measured breath out. Deep breath in, measured breath out. "Go to your happy place, Bella," I murmured, closing my eyes and trying to will myself into a more relaxed state. My happy place was wherever Jacob was, of course. Deep breath in, measured breath out. My mind wandered back about nine months …

The table was set, the dinner was just a stir away from being done. All I had to do was light the candles. I slipped my plum-colored dress over my head and turned in front of the mirror making little adjustments. Jacob always liked me in that dress. It flattered my coloring and the soft knit clung nicely to my curves, such as they were.

That was always my MO when I had something important to discuss with my husband—a special meal and some extra effort with my appearance. It all helped.

Jake came in, sniffing interestedly. "Mmm, whatever you're cooking smells terrific … Hey, what's all this?" The main room of the kit log home we'd built, or rather that the whole Pack built, was an open plan; from the front door, the dinner table, with its flowers and wine glasses, was plainly visible.

"Um, have I forgotten something? It's not a birthday … or our anniversary. Is it?" He gave me a look of comical apprehension.

"No, it's not any of those." I put my arms around his neck, turning my face up for a kiss. "Can't I declare a special occasion when I feel like it? Maybe … My Husband's a Great Guy Day?"

"Far be it from me to fight a thing like that."

I got my kiss, then another, much longer one. By the third kiss, Jacob's hands were smoothing over the fabric of my dress; the glide of the material over my silky panties seemed to be of particular interest.

With reluctance, I pulled away, for the time being. I gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the bathroom. "Get cleaned up. Stroganoff in 15." A happy bubble of anticipation, mixed with just a touch of nervousness, floated under my ribs as I carefully stirred the sour cream into the simmering stew.

We were at the table having the typical conversation about our respective days, when Jake set down his fork and said, "Okay, Bella, spill. What with the meal and, um, everything," he flicked me over with an appreciative up-and-down glance, "there's something on your mind, I can tell."

In spite of all the practicing I'd done, it didn't come out at all smoothly. "Jacob, I want … that is, I think …" My throat closed with emotion, and I had to stop to clear it.

My husband raised an eyebrow at my discomfort. "There's nothing wrong, is there, honey?" He reached over. "Your fingers are so cold!"

With my lips still quivering a bit, but my voice steady, I said, "Jacob, I'm ready, finally. I'm ready to start our family. I … want to have a baby." The words felt so good in my mouth that I had to say them again. "A baby. Our baby."

"I see." Jake leaned back in his chair, studying my face. He had the most expressive eyes; they shone with joy and tenderness—and rising desire. He lifted my hand, still clasped in his, and brought the back of it to his cheek. "So … judging by the dinner and the wine and the fact that you're wearing my favorite dress and, uh, all those looks you keep giving me, I take it that you'd sort of like to get right on that?"

He turned my hand to press a kiss to the inside of my wrist, then his lips meandered up to the base of my ring finger; there was the tiniest flicker of his tongue along the edge of my wedding band. A sliver-thin streak of fire shot from that point of contact to my heart. By the curve of his mouth against my open palm, I knew he could feel the jump in my pulse rate.

"You take it right."

A kind of glow bathed the rest of the meal, one that didn't come from candlelight or wine. Every glance that passed between us was full of promise. Jake shifted his chair closer to the table and I felt the pressure of his calf lightly pressed along mine; warmth from that slight contact spread up my leg and made the lower half of my body feel both heavy and light at the same time. He raised his glass to me in a silent toast.

We cleared the table together, never more than a few inches apart, and my skin tingled with awareness. I stacked the dishes in the sink with Jake standing behind me, his hands softly stroking my arms as I went through the motions. By design, my hair was worn up in a neck-baring French twist, and his lips began to wander along the exposed curve from my shoulder up to the hollow behind my jaw.

"You smell … amazing."

I couldn't help an inward smirk. While dressing earlier, my mind had run ahead, imagining the night to come, and I'd felt the familiar throb of excitement from thoughts of Jacob's naked body joined with mine. On impulse, I dabbled a finger between my legs, then touched that moisture behind each ear before applying my favorite lilac perfume.

Teeth nipped lightly at my earlobe, and huge hands laced fingers with mine; he stepped back from the sink, drawing me with him, and wrapped his arms around me. It made a double embrace with our hands still twined, my back against his front; through the layers of clothing I could feel the firmness and heat of his growing erection.

"We can finish this later," he whispered.

I couldn't help but tease, "By 'this' do you mean the dishes? Or something else?" The answer came in the form of a growl against my neck. A shiver took quick hold of my spine, and my nipples hardened in response. He knew, of course. He always did.

Our hands disengaged. I lifted my arms up and around to curl behind Jake's neck with my upper back deeply arched, breasts jutting out. His hands cupped then circled them, and I gave a little hum of appreciation. The movements changed: One hand slipped inside my dress through the v-neck opening and under my bra, kneading and pinching, lightly at first, but with increasing determination as my breath grew shallow. The other hand began a slow slide down my body, from ribs to waist to hip, then down my outer leg and back up along the inside. He paused there to stroke the crease between my inner thigh and core through the knit fabric before beginning to lightly caress my belly, just over my womb.

Something inside my psyche shifted. I became aware of myself as female and of Jacob as my mate, in a new and heightened way.

This time the sex wasn't only about affection or passion, horniness or fun, it was for the fundamental purpose of sex—procreation. That had always seemed a dreary word to me, so devoid of emotion, but that night I could see a connection between the deep, primal need of all living beings and the desire and love that Jake and I felt for each other, impelling us to create a new life.

I'd never thought before that mere fertility could be so … sexy, but it was—unbearably, irresistibly so.

Perhaps my new vision translated through my skin. Jacob's hand around my breast squeezed a little too tight, but the urgency behind it set me on fire. He loosed me then and spun me around, pressing the small of my back against the edge of the counter. What might have been uncomfortable at another time just became an element of the lust that burned inside me as I returned his hungry kisses and fumbled at the buttons of his shirt.

My plan had been to make the evening a memorable slow seduction, a full sampling of all the ways we'd found to pleasure each other over the years. That wasn't going to work, not for the current round, anyway.

Pushing past him, I walked over to the sofa—we weren't going make it upstairs to the bed—with a provocative sway of my hips. I knew I had his full attention as I bent over from the waist, my behind pushed out enticingly. With a sinuous motion, I dragged my hands up my legs as I stood upright again, gathering the hem of the dress to pull off over my head.

"Stop." The word was spoken softly, but it was the Alpha voice, the one he rarely used.

I stopped. A flash of arousal rippled through me, almost orgasmic in intensity, my body wanting his so badly I was near to weeping. There I stood, his to command, with the dress rucked up around my waist, giving a full view of my panties, thigh high stockings, black leather pumps.

My back was to him, but even with the astonishing silence of his movements, I could feel him approach me. The rasp of a zipper, a rustle of clothing, the soft thud-thud of shoes hitting the floor, then he was right behind me, pressing his hard heat to my back. A gentle, but firm push and I was on hands and knees. The sofa squeaked and dipped under his heavy weight as he got behind me. A hand reached between my legs and squeezed my pubic mound, then slowly moved back, fingers sliding under the elastic of my panties.

"So wet."

"Ye-es," I breathed, all but struck mute by the burning in my sex that could only be soothed by feeling him inside me. A sharp tug, a tearing sound, and the panties were gone; a muscular thigh nudged my legs apart, I could feel the head of his cock just at my entrance … then there was a pause. Giving a little whine of frustration, I looked back over my shoulder.

What a sight. Jake, on his knees behind me, his chest bare under the open shirt and naked below the waist. His eyes were cast down, watching our bodies come together as he s-l-o-w-l-y bored into me. The mental image of that sight made me groan in response

He pulled out just as slowly, almost all the way and paused again. Then with a harsh huff, he pushed back in and started moving hard and fast, perfectly answering my need. His thrusts were vigorous, bottoming out with each stroke, as if by going as deeply as possible, his seed would be that much surer of reaching its target. His thighs made a slapping noise as they met the backs of my legs, surely the most erotic thing I'd ever heard, and his finger flicked and circled my clit, rough and delicate by turns. I could feel the flush of approaching orgasm blooming on my throat and chest, spreading over my body.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," I gasped in time to his motions and sank down onto my elbows, clasping my hands and bracing my forehead against them, willing him to go deeper still. Close … close … He shifted, pulling up on my hips to angle in more fully, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. That sound pushed me over the rough peak of my climax. I cried out as I fell.

Pleasure, sharp and sweet to the point of pain, pulsed through me, laced with the sound of my husband's husky panting and the hammering of his cock. Strong hands gripped my hips, and Jake's body folded over mine, his face buried in my tumble-down hair, my name a sigh as he met his own release.

Later that night, we were stretched out on the bed, my head pillowed on his shoulder, both of us replete; it was well after midnight. The ferocity of our initial encounter had given way to tenderness and prolonged, thorough loving, but still my legs were shaky from the pounding he'd given me the first round, while my insides twitched and burned.

I didn't think I'd ever felt more satisfied.

Drowsily, I wondered if I had conceived this night. That would be neat and fitting, but it would be weeks before we knew—weeks that would be filled nights like this one. I snuggled in closer; nest time, maybe we could …

Another spasm of pain, more intense than ever, jolted me from my reverie; I tried to remember to breathe through it. It finally passed and I was dabbing at the sweat on my forehead with a paper napkin when I heard a car pull up out front, followed by a knock at the door; without waiting for an answer, the door opened. It was Paul.

I looked at him blankly. "W-where's Rachel?" When my sister-in-law had said 'we' I assumed that she would be my escort. If I couldn't have Jake, I would just as soon have a woman by my side, as in someone who had been through the process personally.

Not that I had anything against Paul, we'd been buds ever since the battle with Victoria's army. In fact, after Seth, and possibly Leah, I considered him my closest friend from the original Pack, but … Plainly, my thoughts were evident.

"Kind of a surprise, huh? Well, Rache wanted to come, but the twins aren't weaned yet, you know, and no telling how long it could take. When Sarah came, the labor was—oh, uh …." I was glad he stopped there, I'd heard more than enough delivery horror stories.

He held up my coat and burbled on. "So relax, I'm an old hand at this. I'm the father of four, remember? And I am a terrific birth coach! Anyway, you asked me to kill you one time as a favor, so what's the big deal?"

His off-hand cheeriness was almost offensive, but I had to admit it was kind of comforting as well, and it wasn't like I had the leisure to argue the matter. He grabbed my bag from its place by the door, helped me down the front steps, and solicitously tucked me into the car. Soon I was being briskly but kindly installed in a birthing room, with its pseudo-homey décor.

Paul stayed by my side, holding my hand; he was good at the coaching business. Not for the first time, I marveled at what the love of a steady woman and the responsibilities of a family had done for the former Rez bad boy. He patiently walked me up and down the hall till my legs became too unsteady, then got me settled in the bed. Between contractions he entertained me with bad jokes ("What kind of sex does a wolf like? R-r-uff!") and the night wore away….

"Fucking HELL! That hurts!" I ground out from between gritted teeth. "You'll have to—uff—tell Jacob for me, Paul."

"Tell him what, Bella? Breathe."

"That we're never having sex again! I'm not going through this—uff—another time! Oh, fuck!"

Paul's mouth twitched as he gave me an ice chip to suck on. "Rachel said the exact same thing to me when Sarah came."

"And she let you—uff—talk her into it again?"

"Well, Jimmy and the twins weren't exactly immaculate conception, you know! Anyway, she can't keep her hands off me."

I wanted to laugh, but pain had me twisted in its grip and left me no breath—or will—for anything but to cling to Paul's hand as to a life line.

After it passed, my impromptu midwife went to the door, demanding loudly, "Hey, where's Doctor Meg? Things are starting to heat up in here, and Bella's really ready for the epidural!" Unconsciously, he flexed the hand I'd been gripping. I gave a fleeting smirk to myself that I had hurt a werewolf before another contraction took all my attention.

Paul's insistence paid off: more people came, conferred, and bustled around. I was turned on my side, felt cool air on my back, a sting … and blessed relief. "Oh, there IS a God!" slid from my lips.

My body still was not my own, but, without so much pain to distract me I felt like I could really get to work. Time passed both slowly and rapidly, a blur of panting, bearing down, pushing. The common thread through it all was Paul's calm, cheerful voice encouraging me, praising, reminding me to breathe, until at last the inescapable task was done.

-oOo-

JPOV

What a day.

It felt like a year ago since I put on my uniform, gave Bells a goodbye kiss, with a pat for the baby through her stomach, and climbed in the truck.

People tended to think that as a Game Warden I must spend my days hunting and fishing. Right. Law enforcement was hardly so cut-and-dried, even when the majority of the "citizens" I was sworn to protect were animals. There were down sides, of course—the irregular hours for one—but mostly I loved my job: Through it I still got to be something of a protector to my people and our land, as well as giving me a way to support my family. Family. Yeah.

The day started off with a presentation to the Gray's Harbor Rotarians, then I met with a Parks and Wildlife attorney about a deposition in a case of poaching. Next I attended a meeting about culling the deer population because of Chronic Wasting Disease. After squeezing in a meal at a truck stop, I broke up an underage keg party at Lake Pleasant—in the middle of January, for chrissake—then took a call about a hunting accident. It was way the hell at the back of beyond, up Hurricane Ridge, involving a long hike in to investigate, back out to find cell reception (which was always spotty at best), a long wait, then in again to lead the evac team—all in a sleety drizzle, of course.

I hadn't fished in forever, unless you counted taking water samples at the hatchery. Who had time?

At the thought of fishing, the familiar stab of missing my father flashed through me. That had been happening a lot lately. There was so much I wished we could share.

Finally, I headed toward home, negotiating the familiar curves of the 101, watching for black ice, with my thoughts racing ahead of me. Hopefully, Bells was asleep. She'd been having a rough time with that lately, what with being so uncomfortable. I liked to watch her sleep, propped up against a mountain of pillows because of acid reflux, the thick nighttime braid of her hair over one shoulder, wearing one of my big plaid shirts for a nightie since nothing else fit. She was always beautiful to me, of course, but these days … she took my breath away.

It wasn't a feeling of pride at reproducing—hell, any doofus could get a woman knocked up—more like … awe. The big round of her stretched belly under the blankets was the future I'd anticipated since I first loved her; at the same time it was a link to the past. To be strictly honest though, I was proud, proud that Bella chose me, that she wanted the babies I could give her.

Of course, I didn't tell her about watching her sleep. She might think it was creepy or something.

A yawn threatened to split my face as I turned onto the 110. I wouldn't be watching my girl for long. A shower, maybe a quick beer to rel—

Something was wrong.

The house was still out of sight, but … the spark that was Bella was missing. The sleeping wolf inside—who never left me, no matter how I tried to leave him—awoke, instantly at attention.

At the entrance to our long driveway, I cut the engine and approached the house on silent feet. Bella's car was in its usual place, but where the hell was my wife?

There was definitely someone inside. The joker wasn't even trying to conceal his presence; lights were on and I could hear him, whoever it was, moving around. My over-alert senses didn't detect anything threatening, but things simply weren't right.

Slipping off the safety of my service weapon, I held it in low-ready position as I soundlessly opened the door and sidled in, instinctively offering as little target as possible. Then weapon up, classic two-hand stance.

"Hold it right there, motherfucker! Your ass is mine!"

"Holy hell! Get a grip, Jake, it's me!"

"Seth! What are you doing here? Where's Bella?"

"What does it look like? I'm taking a leak. Seriously, no one could find you, so I got volunteered to hang here and wait for you." Seth got himself adjusted and zipped up. "You need to start phasing again it you can't tell whose parts you're fixing to shoot off!"

"Where. Is. Bella?" I demanded through clenched teeth.

"C'mon, Papa!" He gave me a hearty punch on the shoulder. "You need to get to the hospital and introduce yourself! Looks like young Liam Charles just couldn't wait to get here!"

Papa. Liam Charles. Bella.

I was out the door in a split second, scarcely hearing my brother calling after me to wait up as I ran to the truck. A false turn of the ignition, then it caught, and I was off, fishtailing onto the county road. There was a loud thud from the back—Seth, jumping in the bed after cutting across the lot through the trees. Even in my younger days, when I considered speed limits to be only a suggestion, I hadn't made the trip from La Push to Forks so fast. The tires actually squealed as I pulled into the "Emergency Vehicles Only" spot at the little Forks Community Hospital.

"I got it, Jake. I'll park, you go," Seth shouted from behind; I was already tearing through Receiving and down the corridor, following the Bella spark. Outside the door though, I stopped. Suddenly I felt … bashful and uneasy. Things, our whole lives, were different now.

A nurse came down the hall—she was familiar but I couldn't think of her name—and saw me standing there like a dummy. She smiled understandingly. "Your first?"

All I could do was nod. She opened the door and gave me a gentle shove.

I barely registered Paul's handshake and hug, my eyes were fixed on my girl. She looked even paler than usual, her dark hair spread out on the pillow and I had a horrid flashback of seeing her in a similar room, after the battle with Victoria.

"How was it?" I whispered, raising her hand to my lips as I sank into the chair that Paul had vacated. There were about a million things I wanted to say, fully a third of them apologies for having missed the whole thing, but disappointment made a sort of stopper in my throat. Anyway, it wasn't really about me.

"Awful," she answered with a weary chuckle. "But everybody said I did great. What do you think of him?"

"Huh?" I'd been so focused on my wife that I barely noticed the crib in the corner. As if realizing that attention was being directed at him, a faint, questioning gurgle sounded and drew me over as if pulling me by a string.

Tiny, red, wrinkled, pissed-off looking, just like all of them except … he was mine. I gulped.

In the last year, I had been part of a team that took down an organized ring of poachers, all heavily armed and mad as hell; I'd participated in the high water rescue of some stranded campers, and I'd come across a brown bear that woke up from hibernation early-and wasn't too happy about it.

Somehow, an eight pound newborn was far more frightening.

Taking a steadying breath, I picked him up; so light, yet so solid feeling. A minute pink fist—perfectly formed-gripped my exploratory finger with surprising strength, a gummy yawn struck me as the most amazing thing I'd ever seen … I stood transfixed as all the threads that made up the fabric of my life loosened, unraveled and rewove themselves, tighter and stronger than ever before. I fell in love in a whole new way.

"Bring him over," Bella grunted as she heaved herself into a sitting position. "Crap! I knew it would be painful, but I didn't realize howsore my uterus would be after, not to mention everything else that hurts.

"But he's worth every bit of it," she breathed as I handed her the little bundle. "Isn't he marvelous? And … we made him." I felt a prickle of tears in my eyes at the expression of rapture on her face; she looked up and shared the glow with me. My wife, our son, my family.

Giving me a smile that managed to be teasing and tender at the same time, she said, "Happy birthday, Jacob."

Whoa.

January 14.

Damn!

-oOo-

Alt. POV

"I can't believe we missed it!" Sue Swan exclaimed as she negotiated the familiar corridors of Forks Community Hospital with Charlie hustling along in her wake. They came to a scuffling halt in front of Birthing Room 2.

A soft, "Aawww…" came from them both at the sight of the little group on the bed: The tall young father curled protectively around his wife, with her head nestled on his shoulder. Each had a hand on the tiny blanket-wrapped infant between them. All three were sound asleep.

Sue blinked rapidly and murmured, "I'm so glad I got a phone with a decent camera…Renée simply has to see this!"

-oOo-oOo-

A/N: Talk about serendipity! The outline for this fic has been tucked away in a computer file for over two years, including the last scene, which was the first one written. Plainly, the Muse wanted me to be ready when this prompt came along.