A/N- Sorry this took so long to update. Blame the holiday break. Also this was the hardest chapter to write yet as I couldn't personally relate. Either way, hope you enjoy. The next chapter (and last one) will be up in a couple days.

Disclaimer- I don't own the characters just their thoughts and actions. Credit to Lorrie Morgan for "Something in Red"


I'm looking for something in blue
Something real tiny the baby's brand new
He has his mother's nose and her chin
We once were hot lovers now we're more like friends
Don't tell me that's just what old married folk do
I'm looking for something in blue

I got the call on a warm spring day, mid-April, while I was in the middle of giving a presentation to a private middle school that specialized in the arts. For the past few years, I had occasionally gone out to recruit students for our studio though with our reputation it wasn't really necessary. Not one to be rude during my own presentation, I ignored the call only to get a text message seconds later: In labor- come now. I felt like fainting, she wasn't due for another three weeks, but passing out in a school nearly an hour away would definitely not help my wife. I politely excused myself stating a family emergency and let one of the dance instructors I brought with me take over as I bolted out of the school to hail a cab. I yelled at the driver to take me to New York Presbyterian and that I would pay extra if he got me there in 45 minutes.

I tried multiple times to reach her, but my calls went straight to voicemail. Then I called our office in which our receptionist told me she had been taken to the hospital by Mike (he started working with us a couple years ago once he found out we started our own business). This led me to call Mike in complete hysterics on how I wasn't ready and she wasn't ready and Lord we didn't even have the baby's room all set up and what if I didn't get there in time. He calmed me down saying her contractions were still far apart and that we'd figure out the rest as we go.

I still can't believe she talked me into letting her have our first child. I tried to reason with her that it would be more sensible for me to do it because my job required way less physical exertion than hers. It's not that I didn't want her to have our baby, but I remember how crazy Quinn got when she was pregnant and the horror stories about the pain of child labor. There was no way in hell I wanted my wife to have to suffer through that. But she was adamant, and well I've never been able to say no to her, so eight months later I was freaking out in the back of a cab trying to get to my wife as fast as possible.

Mike and I corresponded via texts my whole cab ride then I threw all the cash in my purse at the driver as I got out before the car even stopped fully in front of the hospital. The only time I had been into the place was when I broke my wrist two years ago- fell off the bed in the middle of some hot rough…um yeah, that event will never be discussed again- and I just was in the ER, so I had absolutely no clue as to where the maternity ward was. Yelling at each nurse I rushed by, I eventually was pointed in the right direction and found Mike in the waiting room. He gave me a hug to calm my nerves (no luck with that) then guided me into her room.

She smiled at me as soon as I stepped through the door, and I immediately went to stand by her head. I brushed her hair back out of her face, she was only slightly sweaty but to me it looked more like she was glistening with beauty. I bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead before whispering in her ear let's do this. She nodded before grabbing my hand for courage and support, our bracelets clinging together every time she winced in pain.

I can't remember there ever being a time between the two of us that involved so much profanity. It seemed like every other word that came out of her mouth was a curse; some of them directed at the doctor, some at the nurses, some to the room in general, but thankfully none were specifically for me. Of course her vice grip on my hand caused me to lose feeling in my fingers, and I muttered swear words to try to ease both of our pains and keep myself from having a panic attack. Needless to say, there was some yelling (mostly her) and crying (mostly me), but after eighteen of the most stressful hours of my life, we were blessed with an adorable baby boy.

I won't get into the gory details about the after birth events because I barely managed to get through them the first time without vomiting or passing out. That night, after she had fallen asleep, I went to the nursery to look at our child. I had gotten to hold him for a while (after he had been cleaned thank God), but that just wasn't enough. Looking through the window, I saw the name tag I was searching for: Anthony Lopez-Pierce. He was by far the cutest baby there, though I suppose I was a bit biased seeing as he looked just like his mother, my wife and lover. I simply could not take my eyes off him, his little chest rising up and down with every breath that gave him life, his miniature fingers balled in a soft fist. The first thing I noticed about him when I held him earlier that morning was he had dark brown eyes like me (though technically they were from the donor), but now that I was able to look closer there was so much about him that reminded me of my wife. He had her nose and delicate chin, pale skin though I believe most babies' are born that way, and when he slept he had this peaceful look on his face that resonated throughout his features which was basically, in essence, his other mother.

I couldn't help the smile that played on my lips as I watched my first born sleep for the next hour. When one of the nurses working in the nursery came out to make sure I was doing alright, I assured her I was fine and decided it was time to stop stalking my child…I would have plenty of time to do that when he got older. I walked back to the room my wife was sleeping in to check on her, and she was still out cold from all the energy she exerted. I kissed her forehead before writing a quick note letting her know where I was going and that I'd be back within the hour in case she woke up though I highly doubted that would happen. With one last glance at her placid figure, I exited the room and hurried out of the hospital.

I was so jazzed on the events of the previous twenty-four hours that I knew sleep wasn't an option. With the baby being born early, we weren't exactly completely prepared for him just yet. My brain was going a mile a minute on all of the issues that would need to be resolved before we took him home, as I paced frantically outside the hospital entrance. Taking a deep somewhat calming breath, I decided to tackle the problems one at a time starting with the first and most important one: the outfit he would wear home. Yeah that might be a bit superficial, but at that moment it was about all my brain could process to do correctly and it would keep my body busy so it seemed like an excellent idea.

It wasn't too early in the morning, many stores were beginning to open up, and I knew of a great little shop only about five blocks down the road that would have just what I was looking for. When I reached my destination, I entered with one goal in mind: find the perfect onesie for our baby boy. I searched the toddler section looking for something in blue (I would've picked a less gender specific color, but my wife loved blue and he would look precious in it). It needed to be really tiny, but with some spunk since he was my kid after all, can't have him looking like a wuss. Finally I found a onesie that screamed Lopez-Pierce, so I slapped my credit card on the counter and headed back to my new family.

When I got back to her room, she was stirring in her sleep so I brushed her hair out of her face before placing a soft kiss on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled when she recognized it was me who woke her from her slumber. She scooted over in the bed and patted the empty space signaling she wanted me to join her. I quickly shook my head no, but reassured her with a kiss on her hairline before I grabbed the bag to show her what I bought. She looked at me with a scrunched forehead, but once she saw the outfit her confusion was replaced with a smile and then laughter. Written on the blue onesie was the saying 'I dance to the music in my heart' with a dancing stick figure in the middle. She grabbed my waist and pulled me on the bed with surprising strength for a woman who just gave birth. After a long affectionate kiss, she drew back and I snuggled into her side.

"It's perfect," she whispered quietly into my ear as she stroke my hair.

"He's perfect." I cuddled closer to her, getting as close as possible while being careful of her whole lower half that was probably still extremely uncomfortable.

"You did amazing tonight," I said as I traced patterns with my fingers absentmindedly down her arm before linking our fingers together. She turned to face me, smiling in thanks, and then kissed the top of my head.

"We both did." Once I was in her arms, my mind was able to slow down and all the ecstatic energy from earlier faded away. This would be a new adventure, but I was positive that together we could survive anything. That day I had the best sleep I would get for the next few months. If only I knew, I probably would have made her stay in the hospital a few days longer.

Having a child around had its ups and downs, every parent knows that. Our nights that were once filled with passion were now filled with restless sleep. Tender kisses had been replaced by quick pecks. It's not that the love wasn't there; it had just changed its center of focus from each other to our child. There was nothing I loved more than coming home to see my wife holding our child in her arms as she glided around the living room in a flawless Viennese waltz. Then again, there was nothing I hated more than being woken up at two in the morning to the wailing screams of said child while I sleepily tried to figure out what he wanted.

Gone were the days of lustful lovemaking. Of course our relationship wasn't solely based on physical affection, but when I'm married to the hottest blonde alive it's one of my easiest and most favorite method of showing my love for her. We had learned to coexist with one another and it sent me back to high school, before I was honest with myself, and we were just best friends. It's how we started out and it seemed that now that someone else had our undivided attention, we simply fell back into that comfort zone.

I got home late one night from the studio about five months after the baby was born, I had been working on our end of the month financial statements (boring I know but it always makes me happy when I see we're making a profit). On the counter was a note saying there was leftover chicken alfredo in the fridge so I heated that up and devoured it within minutes. I stopped by the baby's room, and he was sleeping soundlessly so I kissed him on the forehead before continuing on to our room. She was already snoring softly lying on her stomach with her whole body splayed across the bed. The moonlight shined through the window casting shadows in the room, but lighting the small smile on her lips as she slept. I don't think I have ever seen anyone as beautifully adorable as she was in that moment. I wanted to just stand at the foot of the bed and watch her all night, but I was exhausted and Lord knows the baby would probably wake up and start crying any second so I needed to get some sleep while I could. I carefully got under the covers trying not to wake her and as soon as the bed dipped she lifted her arm to roll me into her. I closed my eyes as her rhythmic breathing ghosted softly on my shoulder putting me to sleep in an instant.

It seemed like the second I closed my eyes, they were being forced back open as sobbing could be heard from the baby's room. It was my turn to check on him- she had done it the past three nights as I pouted, bargained, and feigned sleep- so I rolled over and tried to wipe what little sleep I had gotten from my eyes as I sat up. I felt a hand on my back and I looked over my shoulder to see her getting out of bed and telling me to go back to sleep, she'd handle it. Relief washed over me as I mumbled my incoherent thanks and I flopped back onto the bed. After about half an hour the crying stopped, but I had still yet to fall back asleep. Even in my exhausted stated it was nearly impossible for me to sleep without being near her, touching her, being in each other's' arms. Grumbling to myself, I slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to my family.

I stopped in the doorway as the sight of the two of them caught my breath. There was nothing unusual about the situation; she was sitting in the rocking chair slowly rocking back and forth as she cradled him in her arms. His eyes kept shutting and I knew he was only minutes away from sleep. She sang softly and when I recognized the lyrics from Songbird, I immediately felt the tears start to well up in my eyes. It was moments like this one that made everything we had been through, good and bad, all worth it. When she finished the song, I finally entered the room and she looked up at me as I approached her.

"I told you to go back to sleep," she whispered so she wouldn't wake our child. She was almost chastising me, but the knowing smile on her face said otherwise.

"You know I can't sleep without you, besides it was my turn to quiet the beast," I replied before leaning down and planting a kiss on his forehead for the second time that night. She rolled her eyes in response to my comment before getting out of the chair.

"Fine, you can put him down," she said faking distress as if it were such a burden to let me place the child back in his crib. I reached my hands out to take him as she held him out and our bracelets chimed as they hit making the echo ring through an otherwise silent room. We both smiled guilty as we looked at our boy, but he was still fast asleep unaware of anything outside of his own dreams.

I gently laid him back in his crib and rested my hands on the bar as I stood over him watching his even breathing. I felt arms encircle my waist and her chin landed lightly on my shoulder. For the longest time, she was the only person I ever loved. Now that I had someone else to give affection to (and also share her affection with), I had overcompensated…we both had. It wasn't about if I loved one of them more than the other, it was about showing them I loved them both, no matter what, in an equal amount. She nudged my shoulder as if to let me know she wanted to go to bed. Looking down at our son, I let my quiet voice fill the silent room.

"I love you Brittany."

She tightened her grip on my waist and placed a kiss on my neck. Years ago that would have sent us both in a frenzy of hormones and desire, but now it was a sentiment of security and comfort.

"I know."


End of Verse 4