John was used to hearing odd sounds; super hearing wasn't always the blessing everyone thought it was. While the pros outweighed the cons, it meant that "quiet time" was really just a saying; nowhere was ever truly quiet. This was hell when his powers first manifested, the noise was constant; he remembers the nights he would spend covering his ears, crying and praying for sleep to come. Adjusting took time, but adjust he did, and most nights he slept soundly.

This, it seems, was not one of those nights.

As he turned over for what must have been the twentieth time that night, he let out a soft growl of frustration. The thrumming in his ears was constant, what the hell was that? Their current home was full of odd noises, old pipes and arguing neighbors, nothing he hadn't heard before, but this was new. It was a soft, but steady thrumming, fast and constant. He thought it might have been echoes from a dryer, or the buzzing of an air conditioner, but neither of those descriptions seemed to truly match up. John couldn't place it, and it was driving him insane.

He glanced at Clarice to ensure she was sleeping, she'd been exhausted after the last mission; opening double portals apparently took a lot out of her. After hearing her steady breathing (she could sleep through an earthquake, of course the stupid noise doesn't keep her awake) he decided to forgo sleep for the night and get up to overlook the plans of their next run. Kicking the blankets off, his bare feet padded across the room to their door, and with only a slight squeak, he was in the kitchen. Flipping on the light, he made his way over the table/office to chart new routes for runs, and double check escape options. The thrumming faded ever so slightly, enough for him to focus on the task at hand.

He doesn't know how long he was out there; sleep and the mysterious thrumming long had long moved from the forefront of his mind. The squeak of the door was what caused John to look up; before him was a very tired looking Clarice, dwarfed by one of his shirts, hair still tussled from sleep, and he couldn't keep a smile from his face. Yawning, she leans against the door frame, attempting to wipe the sleep from her eyes, "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same question," he replies, shuffling some of the papers around, refolding the maps that held their escape, ones he hoped to not have to use anytime soon.

Walking over to the cabinet and grabbing a glass, she sassed, "Well, I was sleeping just fine until my space heater left, and the bed got cold." This was reinforced with a pointed look over her glass of water.

"Sorry, I just couldn't sleep," he sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I love having a space to ourselves, but this apartment just has so many noises; its just hard to shut them out." As if on cue, the thrumming returned, I swear its following me. He buried his face in his hands, recalling his early battles with sleep deprivation, and silently praying that that was not the path he was going down again.

Clarice softened when she saw how he was struggling and set her glass down on the counter. Walking over to him, she took his head in her hands, running her hands through his hair, "Hey, if you can't sleep, I know a few things we could do to help get rid of some of that excess energy," she suggested, fully intending to get him back to bed with her.

Usually John would have never even considered turning down such a tempting offer, but his mind was currently laser focused on one thing, and one thing only. The thrumming has once again grown louder, and was currently located directly to the right of him.

Exactly where Clarice was standing.

Lifting his head from her hands, he pivoted in his chair to face her, placing his hands on either side of her waist. "John, what are you doing weirdo-" He gently cut her off, shushing her, and, breathing heavily, he pulled her slightly forward, pressing his ear directly to her abdomen.

Clarice didn't quite know how to react to her boyfriend's strange new behavior, "Is this a new gimmick where you guess what I had for dinner? Cause it definitely wasn't a burrito from that place on the corner that we said we were going to try." John either ignored or didn't hear her quip; he has now pulled back and was seemingly transfixed on her stomach. She was starting to grow worried, what can he hear disease now, what the hell is it? "John, babe, you're officially freaking me out, what's going on?"

John slowly raised his head to look at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. He paused to take a deep breath, Clarice heard it catch a little in his throat, oh I am so dying. "Clarice," he whispered, as if not trusting himself to speak, "Clarice…I think you might be pregnant."

Oh… so, not dying.

Not dying at all.

Its worse.

Skittering away from him, she felt the cool counter press into her back, and she gripped it for dear life. She somehow couldn't comprehend what he was saying, as if the words Clarice and pregnant couldn't actually exist in the same sentence. "Wha..what?" she choked out.

John slowly stood up, his hands still slightly extended from where he was holding her, making it look like he was approaching a wild animal. "I can… I can hear the heartbeat," he revealed, mentally cursing himself for being annoyed earlier, that was my child. He took in Clarice, who was now shaking against the counter, beginning to hyperventilate, was she always this small?

"Oh shit," she whispered, "Oh shit, shit, shit." She wrapped herself with her arms, trying to stop the shaking. "What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do, shit" She suddenly walked into the living room, pacing back and forth, her speech growing more and more agitated, "I can't raise a kid, I-I don't know the first thing about parenting, and we are fighting a war, moving every five minutes, you can't just move with a kid, they need things, like cribs and diapers an-and the weird spinny things," emphasizing her point with a frantic movement of her arms, her worries flowing out rapidly now. "And we'll be hunted, the movement depends on me to keep them safe, what if this means I can't portal, and do my job, what if the government finds out and they come for it, what if it looks like me- Oh God," she sobbed.

John, frozen from shock, snapped into action upon hearing her cry, crossing the distance between them to hold her. "Hey, hey, breathe," he rubbed circles on her back, feeling her tears beginning to seep into his shirt. "We can do this," he breathed as well, trying to believe the words he was saying, "We can do this, Clarice. We are in this together, okay? And we have Caitlin and Reed to help us with parenting advice, and friends to help protect us. We'll figure it out." John pulled back to wipe the tears from her face, his heart breaking to see her so broken. She sniffled but pulled away from his touch. It didn't surprise him; the way she grew up, she doesn't trust easily. He could see in her eyes the walls that were going up, to protect her from the pain she thought was coming, the pain of me leaving.

He pushes back, not letting her pull away. Brushing her hair away from her face, he cups her cheek, "Clarice," he whispered reverently, "Clarice, I am not going anywhere. I love you, and I am not going to let anything happen to you. We will figure out everything as it comes up, together, I promise." He felt his eyes begin to moisten, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold back tears much longer. Moving his hand over to lightly brush her ears, he continued, "And to answer your question, I can only hope that this baby looks anything like you, because she would be so beautiful." He wiped away another tear that threatened to roll down her face, "Just like her mother."

Clarice couldn't help but smile a little through her tears, looking up at his cautiously happy face. God what did I do to deserve you? She reached up to hold the hand that cupped her face, laughing slightly, "Her?"

John mirrored her laughter, her smile dazzling him to his core. "Just a thought," he replied as he drew her in for hug, and then sweeping her up into his arms. Laughing, she held onto him, kissing him sweetly, and then passionately. John carried them back to bed, sleep still forgotten, but in the best of ways.

The expecting parents had much more interesting plans for their night.