"He has your nose."
Laurel leans over the couch, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder, while her stomach pushes in to the back of the furniture, her growing waist unable to hide under baggy sweaters any longer.
"How can you tell?" She says, squinting at the image.
"Look," he says, bringing the sonogram closer to her, his finger tracing the grainy image. "That is clearly your nose," he declares.
She turns to look at him, the nose in question, digging into his cheek, as she brings her forehead to rest against his temple.
"You're cute," she says with a scrunch of her nose, and she can feel his dimples appearing underneath her touch.
"I'm right," he reasons, and she huffs out a laugh, as she moves to stand upright, walking into Bonnie's kitchen. They'd left the house with the usual suspects crowding the living room, only to come back to a silent house, and nothing but the jigsaw puzzle of their sonogram pictures for Wes to assign claim to body parts.
Pouring a glass of water she wanders back into the living area to find him still studying the image.
"Stare at it too hard and it might disappear," she warns with a grin, but instead it brings a frown to his face.
"Don't say that," he claims, his voice so forlorn, she instantly regrets the morbid comment, however unintentional.
Placing her water down, she sits next to him, pulling his hand into her own, and placing it firmly on the visible bump on display underneath the blue sweater she'd worn that day.
"We're fine, we're fine" she assures him, a litany of such she'd taken to uttering both to him and to herself, as if putting that thought out into the universe would form a protective bubble that kept them as such. The lingering doubts and fears of what could have been always lingering on the fringe of their thoughts most days, but brought to the surface with screaming accuracy when things seemed to be going too well.
A baby. A healthy baby, seemed to her a bit like tempting the fates. A nagging feeling that she wouldn't be allowed to keep them both, that fate would ultimately offer one of them up for sacrifice for the other to survive.
As if sensing the tension of the room, the baby kicks, sending a full dimpled grin onto Wes' face.
This time she can't help but bring her hand to his cheek, running her fingers over the indents of happiness on display.
"Well, I just hope she has your dimples," she claims, maneuvering herself to where her legs are now resting across his, the pressure coming off her feet, and her head sinking back to his shoulder.
"I didn't see that," he says, holding up the sonogram again, pretending to squint at the face. "But he definitely has your nose," he jokes, tweaking her own nose with his finger.
"You know if we just found out the sex…" she broaches, not for the first time in the last few months.
"Nope," he says with a pop. "It's better this way, more fun," like it was a game, the excitement settling over him.
"More fun?" She asks with a scoff. "We have enough surprises around here, for once I want to know exactly what we're getting ourselves into."
"But this is a good kind of surprise," he says, the innocent wonder she'd witnessed upon first meeting, sneaking up on him the more she saw him interact with their unborn child. He tilts his head, his face melting upon seeing the trepidation written all over her features.
She lets out a heavy sigh.
"Let that be the only surprise," she whispers against him, and he moves his hand to wrap around her, pulling her closer still, his fingers dancing across her arm in light patterns of comfort, her hair tangling in his movements.
It's then that the door opens, the rush of the others entering the house, but they both refuse to separate.
Asher rushes over, plopping himself onto the couch, closer than she would've preferred, with the excitement of a five year old.
"Picture time!" He all but cheers, stealing the sonogram from Wes' hand.
Wes shakes his head with a smirk, as Laurel looks back at him, carefully inspecting the baby nestled inside her.
"Hmm," he says. "He's got your nose, Mamacita," he declares with a goofy look, and wiggling eyebrows.
She whips her head to Wes.
"You told him to say that!"
He holds up his free hand with a shocked, amused face, and a laugh.
She looks back at Asher with narrowed eyes, grabbing the sonogram from him.
"Don't call me that," she says, bringing the image to her chest. A soft groan and a roll of her eyes escaping her.
"This does not mean you're right," she says with a point of her finger, and a shake of her head at the bemused grin on her boyfriend's face.
"Sure," he teases, the sound of his laughter enough to crack her resolve, hiding her smile in his arm.
