A/N: So, I'm a cheater. I kind of took this prompt (the 3:28 AM one) from another 100 Theme Challenge. Sue me? But it is also kind of "middle," or "middles" as the real prompt was. I just didn't know what the hell "Middles" meant. Like, I don't know. I'm a cheater. But it is Middles, in a way. So...shhhhhh. Also, it is shorter from the last one. I'm intending to make them all over 1k. And this is just barely over 1k...so. AHAHA. I just don't like REALLY short things, ya know?
Thank you so much for the reviews/favorites/follows! You guys are making me so happy. I honestly wasn't expecting this to really be glanced at...but you've proved me wrong (in the absolute, marvelous, way!) So, thank you VERY much. XO
ANOTHER THING (when does this Author's Note end, I know.) I was thinking. Do you guys think I should post these all individually? So, people can pick and choose which ones they want to read? Or...? I don't know. The whole thing is stressing me out, lmao. I'm dumb. But, yeah. Help a girl out.
#002
3:28 AM/(Middles…kind of)
Normally, she sleeps fine…great, even. Especially since her pregnancy began, this is odd because in most cases it's the exact opposite scenario. It was like the fetus she was carrying around was her own personal sleeping medication. Whenever she hit a pillow or really anything remotely soft, she just dozed off. But tonight is different. Tonight she is wide awake, and so is her daughter. She has been kicking all night. Every time Spencer thinks the kicking will cease, it just begins again.
"Are you playing soccer in there, or something?" Spencer whispers as she sits up, and rubs her belly, once the kicking starts up again.
Her brown eyes move from her abdominal pain to her sleeping husband, and then the clock sitting on the nightstand next to him. 3:28AM, and she has yet to have closed her eyes for longer than two minutes.
She has work tomorrow! How is she supposed to go to work? What's worse than that is, Spencer read that poor sleep during pregnancy can lead to complications during birth. And sure it is just one day, but one day can easily multiply into 6.
She shakes her head. She needs a drink of water, or something. Something to lull her to sleep. Obviously, lying here, wishing sleep would succumb her isn't working out for her.
She guides her legs off the bed, and then her body, trying her best to be quiet whilst doing so. He stirs a little, but so far, she is successful in not waking up. She makes her way out the door, wishing that she was wearing more than shorts. It is mid April, which means, during the day it is nice and warm, but at night is a fucking ice bin. It doesn't help that her body is seemingly incapable of keeping her warm—she is always cold.
She grabs a blanket off the chest beside their door, and wraps it around her, unable to handle the Goosebumps that now sleeve her.
She makes her way to the kitchen, and pours herself a glass of water, before taking a seat at the small dining table.
In high school she had many nights like this—restless, and absent from sleep. But it has been a while since high school, and she cannot quite recall how she managed on those nights. Really, she is quite unsure how she managed anything in high school. It was like she was numb to it all.
She shakes the memories away. That's the past, and this is the present. She needs to focus on her present problem.
The water is seemingly only making the fetus more upset, in result making Spencer more upset. Not that she blames her daughter, or anything. It is not her fault. Spencer would probably be kicking and flailing, too, if she was stuck in a small, hot, enclosed, place for nine months.
"Come on, water is good. You have to like water; it's an essential to living!"
The words are whispered even though there is no reason she has to be quiet anymore.
She gets up from the dining table, rubbing her stomach, trying to soothe her un-born child's tantrum. She puts her cup in the dishwasher, sighing as she leans against the counter and cabinets. She looks at her enlarged belly, and sighs. "What do you want me to do?" she mumbles in slight desperation.
She decides that going back to bed is just pointless, because she has been trying for four hours, and it is j highly unlikely she will rest. Besides, she is not even tired. Well, she is—she was, at least. But the kicking has kind of wakened her up. So, instead of going back to bed, she settles down on the couch, and clicks on the TV.
It is almost 4AM, and she has no idea what is on at this time of the night, but she is determined to find something.
Eventually, she settles on a documentary that she evidentially finds on Netflix (cable got her nowhere.) It's called "The Act of Killing," and it is basically about crimes during the Indonesian Killings. It isn't really a good thing to watch in the middle of the night, considering how brutal it is, but it is interesting, and it really opens your eyes to things. So, she watches it. Or tries to, at least.
Spencer isn't sure when she fell asleep, but apparently she did, because the next thing she knows Toby is kissing her temple, making her eyes flutter open. She is flustered at first, but then she registers the situation. She couldn't sleep, so she decided to watch a documentary.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but it is 7:20, and I know this is the latest you ever allow yourself to sleep in."
She groans, or is it a sigh? Somewhere in between.
She tilts her head, so she is looking at him. He has already changed from his sleepwear. Which makes sense. Toby has to be at his work earlier than she does, resulting in him waking up sooner.
He nudges his forehead into her temple, his hand roaming over her stomach. "Why are you out here?" he murmurs, gently.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"What would you do?"
"I don't know…" he says, dumbfounded. His eyes flicker to her stomach. "Something."
"You just would have just been exhausted all day."
"Misery loves company," he mumbles, his other hand moving behind her back.
"Misery is a sadist."
Toby laughs a little, his blue eyes admiring her, and his hand rubbing her back. But his smile parts, "you could always call in. I'm sure they'll understand."
"No. I have a lot of work to do. And I can't do it from home."
"Fine. Then…you better start getting ready," he sighs a little, kissing her forehead. She leans into him, wrapping her arms around him, and burying her head into his chest.
His hands limply trace around her, and then he mumbles, "this isn't really what I meant…" he muses, his hands tousling in her hair.
She smiles, only holding onto him more tightly, "just give me a minute."
And he gladly, does.
