A/N: Apologies, somehow I skipped posting the second prompt here... it was only posted on AO3.
Prompt: "Well that's the closest I've ever come to a heart attack. Let's not do this again."
Love is Not Dead
You brush your lips across her damp forehead, over her flushed cheeks. Her panting breaths match yours and you're certain that if you were to touch your lips to her pulse, it would be racing in time with yours as well.
The noise of the room around you has faded to nothing more than a faint buzz in the background. You have been surrounded by boundless activity for the last forty minutes. From the time they told her to start pushing, everything has been loud and eruptive and overwhelming. You haven't moved from her side, haven't released her hand, haven't stopped touching her. You've needed this connection, you still need it, and now that the excitement has passed, you cling to it like a lifeline.
"Well that's the closest I've ever come to a heart attack. Let's not do this again."
She gives a derisive snort as she turns her face into yours. When she nuzzles her nose along your jaw, your heartrate begins to return to normal. She squeezes your hand.
"Where is she? I want to see her," she mutters weakly.
You move out of your bubble for the first time since your baby girl was brought into the world. You don't even get to turn all the way around before a beaming nurse is placing a tightly swaddled infant in your arms. You look down at her, at this child that you and Felicity have made and brought to life, and her tiny features blur as tears flood your eyes. When you pivot around with your daughter cradled against you, it is to find your wife with the most blinding smile on her face. Her own tears glisten as they slide down her cheeks.
"Hi."
"Hey."
One of the nurses adjusts the bed so that Felicity can sit up and she holds out her arms. An ache immediately blossoms inside of you at the idea of letting go of your daughter, even if it's just so that she can go to her mother, and you know that it is going to be this way for the rest of your life. But Felicity makes grabby hands (her words, not yours) at you and you can't help the chuckle that escapes. It takes a moment but you manage to transfer the baby safely to her waiting mother and you press another kiss to your wife's temple.
"Welcome to the world, Maisie Elizabeth."
She whispers the name against the crown of the baby's head as you climb into the hospital bed beside her. You slide your arm around her shoulders, drawing her against your chest, holding them both.
"Are you sure?"
She nods, "Maisie Elizabeth Queen. I love it."
You find yourself watching as her fingers trail through the soft strands of dark blond hair that cover your daughter's head. Your throat is constricted, the words that you want to tell her are stuck there, but you know that you don't have to speak them for her to understand how you're feeling. Felicity has never needed the words, she's had enough of a voice for both of you, so when she turns to you with a soft smile on her face, you know that she's right there with you. The joy and amazement and love and unimaginable fear that you're feeling, she feels them, too. And you know that, no matter what comes next, you'll get through it together.
