The sofa was too small for him. It always had been, regardless, but even more so when he was trying to sprawl out, the flat end of his bolt settled on Marie's belly, the both of them watching the Discovery Channel in their living room.
Or, rather, he was watching the Discovery Channel and Marie was reading baby book number 8649 in efforts to prep herself for becoming a mother sometime in the next four months. Frankly, it still didn't feel real. He could sense the soul inside of her, the one that was sharing her body, but it was almost like it simply hadn't sunk in, yet.
He shifted from his spot against her, one of his legs hanging off the armrest of the couch and the other simply curled up in efforts to try to fit on the loveseat. Marie, in contrast, had all the space in the world, her back pillowed by enough bedding to make a hospital jealous, both her legs beneath him. One of Marie's hands was petting his hair absentmindedly, stopping momentarily to flip a page before she went right back to playing with the locks, her fingers circling where his bolt met his skull. He looked up at her, sneaking a glance and noting that she seemed immersed in whatever was written in "Secrets of a Baby Whisperer".
Ridiculous.
Just last week she had read "The Sh!t No One Tells You: Surviving Your Baby's First Year" and she'd fretted herself sick for six out of seven days. He hoped this book was less concerning to her. She'd already speed-watched "Juno", "What to Expect When You're Expecting", "Due Date", "Sugar and Spice", "Nine Months", "Knocked Up", "Where the Heart Is", and "Back-Up Plan", multiple times, so he was at least thankful that he didn't have to sit through another silly film while she teared up, but some of her literary choices weren't particularly conductive to her happiness.
Stress levels in pregnant women were supposed to be lowered and there she was, raising her blood pressure over words on a page.
Marie seemed to hum in contentment over something and when his eyesight focused, he realized it was over him. Her eye had moved from reading to locking on his gaze and he almost jolted when he noted that he had been musing to himself without looking away.
She giggled, tugging on his hair playfully.
"Is there something on my face?" she asked, her grin widening.
"Yes," he responded simply, turning so that he was looking at the television once more.
"Liar," she accused, laughter in her voice as she played with his hair, her hand coming down to the back of his neck and rubbing.
He wasn't lying. She did have something on her face.
A smile counted as something.
Regardless, her soul was thrumming with contentment, and he focused his perception, closing his eyes and feeling how warm and radiant it was, curled around their baby's fragile soul as protection. He flared his own up, pressing it against hers and she giggled once more, rubbing her thumb behind his ear.
He could have sworn her soul was nuzzling his, the sappy woman. He looked back up at her, his eyebrows raised, but the giddy influence of her wavelength was rubbing off on him almost immediately and a lazy smirk was twisting the stitching on his face. She grinned down at him, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly, the two of them casually resonating while the Discovery Channel droned in the background about the wonders of the octopus.
He found that he didn't much care that he was missing it.
Besides, he had to give Marie a reason to consider him a better cuddler than her pregnancy pillow. The damn thing had bested him one too many times and he was ready to set it on fire in his backyard without telling her.
He could only hope she wouldn't notice.
Her gaze hadn't left his, and her hand had roved around to tracing the stitches under his eye tenderly, as though memorizing. When they first got together, she thought he wouldn't enjoy or want her to do so, but he found that her touch was welcome anywhere on him. Everywhere on him. Scarwork, clean skin, split knuckles, wounds: she was more than allowed. He never protested to her touch, found it calming and pleasant more often than not. And this time was no exception, especially since her fingers were glowing because she was glowing, because her wavelength was always strongest when she was happy, and it would often come over her skin in a sheen of golden light.
She had been staring at him, the corners of her eye crinkled in fondness, and his smirk widened.
"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, throwing her words back at her, one of his brows raising. She rolled her eye good naturedly, curling in so she could kiss his forehead. Soon, she'd be too pregnant to maneuver so easily. Already, it seemed as though it was giving her some trouble, so he met her halfway, sneakily trying to tilt his face so his lips would meet her own, but only managed to guide her lips to his nose. She laughed at his attempt, flopping back down on her pillows.
"Now you do," she commented, the faintest trace of her lipstick left where she had kissed him.
He only lowered his cheek to her belly one more, rubbing his face across her shirt to remove the imprint before one of his hands came beneath the fabric, pushing it up to just beneath her breasts. She shivered for a moment, the cool breeze unexpected, before he pressed his ear back to her stomach, closing his eyes.
Book abandoned, she set it on their table, one of her hands stretching the collar of his shirt so she could rub at his shoulders and the other still threaded through his hair. He was warm, slightly heavy atop her, but comfortable and familiar, and with their souls linked, she felt content and at peace.
Neither of them were expecting the small thump that came from inside her, and he jolted, almost falling off the couch if it wasn't for Marie's hands holding him steady.
This time, when he lifted his head to look at Marie, his eyes were wide, almost confused, startled.
"Did the baby just-"
Marie breathed a laugh, her entire form glowing so golden it was like she had a halo of light around her. Stein's lower lip dropped down before he focused his gaze on her belly, instead, holding himself up on his elbows as both palms came to her abdomen.
The baby just kicked.
His baby just kicked.
He had been expecting fetal movement closer to 25 weeks into her pregnancy. At only five months in and with it being Marie's first pregnancy, he was surprised that the kick was so pronounced. But he was certain he felt it. Maybe the resonance had something to do with it, his and Marie's souls curled around each other, curled around their baby's, that had made the movement so pronounced. Maybe it was just Marie's healing influence that seemed to nurture everything she came into contact with.
But regardless of reason, it had happened. It had happened and he had felt it and Marie looked so overjoyed, staring down at him as he looked at her belly with something indescribable on his face. Curiosity, of course, as he was ever-curious, but also something she could only describe as. . .awe. Her expression seemed to soften, growing more tender as she rubbed her thumb over her partner's jaw.
"I guess the baby wanted to say hi," she said, stroking down his back with her other hand. He looked up at her and the affection on his face left her feeling fizzy and weightless, giddy.
"Extroverted. Like their mother."
There was something breathy in his voice, almost as though it was full of wonder. She hummed happily, resting her head back and closing her eye, her soul almost bouncing with how glad she was. His, in comparison, was calmer, had always been calmer, but she could feel how happy he was, the two of them working off one another.
There was surprise in his soul, too. Maybe he thought the baby would never kick for him.
No, she knew he thought the baby wouldn't kick for him. He didn't need to tell her for her to know. He thought his hands only knew how to ruin things. He had been the same with her, believing that he shouldn't be allowed to touch things that weren't either dead or doomed for death in the all-too-near future.
He'd gotten better, since then. Stopped believing it so wholeheartedly. He'd touched her and she hadn't crumpled, turned to ash, dust, a memory in the wind. She was still there. She was happy. He made her happy.
All his life he'd been told he was a menace. By teachers and doctors and other kids and other adults and who wouldn't start to think it was true when everyone said so? Even if a few didn't, it was no wonder he internalized all of that. She was glad their students loved him. She was glad Spirit forgave him, that he had friends, that he had care.
That he had her and their baby and that moment to remind him of how good he was.
A menace would never have been able to help make something as wonderful as their baby. A menace wouldn't be able to bring so much joy into her life.
"I think the baby likes you," she whispered, and she moved her hand off of his back to rest on her tummy, locating where one of his palms was settled on her skin and tenderly grabbing his wrist until he turned his hand around so she could thread their fingers together. "Like their mother," she echoed, the smile in her voice warming his entire chest.
Stein lowered his head so he was resting his cheek on her stomach once more, his eyes closed to the television in front of him, all of him focused on his soul perception, on Marie, on his baby. The souls flickered, warm and alive and the closest thing to the true definition of happiness he'd ever witnessed.
He thinks it was finally starting to sink in. He was going to be a father. He was a father. He had made that bright new soul with Marie.
His hold tightened on Marie's hand, the Discovery Channel completely ignored.
The sofa was too small for him, scrunching him in, but, in that moment, he doesn't remember ever being more comfortable.
Because I'm a sucker for pregnancy fluff. And they deserve to be happy.