Title: Forty Weeks
Rating: PG
Characters: Nate Ford, Sophie Devereaux, Team
Pairing: Nate/Sophie, peripheral Parker/Hardison
Summary: There are an average of forty weeks in a pregnancy. That means the team has at most thirty to prepare for the hardest job they've ever pulled: raising a baby. Sequel to Happy. N/S, but with heavy presence of the team.
Spoilers/Time Period: Set at the end of a hypothetical fifth season, does not dispute canon up through The Morning After Job. Set six weeks after Nate and Sophie tell the team in Happy, but all you have to know is that Nate and Sophie are married and expecting.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Author's Note: Thanks for the great response! I hope you're still enjoying!
Part Two
20 weeks
"Yeah? What's up?"
"Nate."
"Eliot."
"Where are you?"
"In Harvard Square, trying to find that specific…"
"Where are you supposed to be?" Eliot interrupts with his trademark growl.
Puzzled, Nate starts to fumble with his phone in search of his calendar.
"Forget it. Just get in the car, drive to 330 Brookline Ave, go to the fifth floor, and don't stop. Except maybe to get flowers. Yeah, flowers would be a great idea."
"What? Why?"
"Nate. You're late for the ultrasound."
"Shit."
"Yeah, Parker's there with her, but after you missed the last one…"
"There were extenuating circumstances."
"You're not allowed to miss this one. Go," Eliot continues, undeterred.
Nate's already on the move, cursing to himself. Damn, he is sucking at this whole thing this time around. He knows pretty flowers will soothe Sophie's ire for now, but he really has to step it up.
He pretty much has to beg his way into the exam room once he gets there, but he is informed that the doctor is running behind, so he isn't too late, and, in fact, Sophie should even have several minutes to berate him before they're ready for the ultrasound.
Nate steels himself and enters the room.
"I'm going to kill you," Sophie says evenly as Nate opens the door, and in that moment, she means it one hundred percent. If there had been sharp objects in the room, she would've been a widow before he crossed the threshold.
"Soph… I'm so sorry," he starts, cut off by her glare.
Parker, unfazed by the tension, takes advantage of the pause to contribute:
"They thought we were both the moms," she laughs, Parker-like, at her perceived absurdity.
"That's great, Parker. Can we have a minute?" Nate asks.
"Don't be short with her," Sophie scolds. "She was here."
She watches Nate swallow a sharp retort.
"I'm sorry, Parker, but we really need to talk. Alone."
The thief looks to her beloved grifter for her cues.
"I want to see the baby, though," she says, even as she moves to the door at Sophie's nod.
"We'll come get you," the older woman promises.
Alone, Sophie turns her hurt gaze back to Nate, frustrated.
"You forgot," she accuses, feeling the anger bubble up anew. "You forgot. And after last time…"
"There were extenuating circumstances," he defends, but they both know it's a weak protest.
She promised herself she wouldn't cry, but damn, he makes her so angry sometimes, and that paired with second trimester hormones and the vulnerability of a paper-thin gown is fast making her break that promise.
"You've never even heard our child's heartbeat. For God's sake, that blurry ultrasound picture is Parker's bloody phone background and you've never even heard the heartbeat!"
He hangs his head, and goddammit he needs to stop that hangdog act because it alternately infuriates her and makes it impossible to stay angry with him, and she does not need any more conflicting emotions in her head.
"I know. I know. I'm so sorry."
She has to bite her lip to keep in the string of obscenities that wholly inadequate response elicits.
"I hear it," he continues, still refusing to meet her eyes. "At night. I sleep, and I hear it, until it turns into the sound of Sam's monitor flat-lining."
His words kick the breath out of her chest.
"That's not why I'm late. I did just forget, at least consciously, and that's not okay, and I'm sorry…"
"Come here," she interrupts softly, holding a hand out to him, managing to keep the tears to a minimum. She reads the surprise in his eyes as they snap up at her order. "I thought we agreed to talk about this. This won't work if you can't tell me what you're thinking."
He crosses to her, and her tension bleeds away as his fingers thread through hers.
"I know. I'll try. And I really am sorry that Parker's a better husband than I am."
Sophie laughs as he wipes her tears with his knuckles, noting how wet his own eyes are.
"She's not," she promises. "And you have plenty of time to prove that you're better." She kisses his wrist. "Now go get her, before she wreaks havoc."
As he goes to the door, she calls him back.
"Nate, what kind of flowers are waiting in the car?"
"Pink roses," he smiles, making her heart skip a little as he's halfway out the door. He throws back over his shoulder, "I'm secretly hoping for a girl."
She smiles at the closed door and admits:
"Me too."
"It's a girl!" Parker announces to the anxiously awaiting Eliot and Hardison, before Nate and Sophie are even all the way through the door.
"Way to steal our thunder, Parker," Sophie complains, only slightly irked at the loss of her dramatic moment, because Nate's hand is warm and solid on her back and everything suddenly feels a thousand times more real since they saw their daughter's face on the 3D ultrasound.
Nate has taken custody of all copies of said ultrasound, and while "the boys" excitedly swamp Sophie with congratulations and questions, he proudly displays the printout on the refrigerator. Then he tosses the CD to Hardison.
"We're watching it on the big screen!" Hardison exclaims.
Sophie rolls her eyes as Parker requests popcorn and promises to show them all of her favorite parts.
"This is my favorite part," Nate says softly. "It's like she's waving at us."
They have the apartment/office to themselves, finally, since Nate chased the others away thirty re-watchings ago. They've taken up their usual seats, Nate at one end, Sophie stretched across with her legs in his lap. The mother-to-be, exhausted from the day, has been dozing off and on as Nate sits entranced by their baby girl's tiny form up on the screen, the surround sound letting the strong, steady heartbeat envelope them.
"Hmm…" Sophie acknowledges, half-asleep.
"Right there," he pauses it on the blurry hand. "Do you see it?"
"Mmhmm," she answers, eyes closed. They snap open with a start. "Oof."
"Are you okay?" Nate demands, an edge of panic in his voice.
Sophie nods as she sits up, and a slow smile spreads across her face. She grabs his hand and presses the palm to her belly. "Do you feel that?"
Her voice is rough with sleep and awe. Nate's brow knits as he waits, and then, just as suddenly, he gives a jump and a stupid grin.
"She's kicking," he laughs.
"It feels very strange," Sophie admits.
"Miraculously strange?"
"Definitely."
"She's your daughter. She likes seeing herself up on the big screen."
She thumps him lightly for his impertinence.
"Hey, your mom is abusing me," Nate directs to her stomach.
"Oh, don't listen to him. Mummy would never do such a thing."
Nate shakes his head.
"Lying to her already."
Sophie rolls her eyes, pausing when she feels another kick.
She sighs, "She really is in there."
Nate meets her eyes, their faces only illuminated by the light of the ultrasound paused on the display.
"Close your eyes," he whispers to her belly. "I'm about to kiss your mother."
to be continued