Pure fluff (and a wee bit of foreshadowing)
"Evenin', Jo." The voice was low, soothing, a little amused, the bed compressing slightly as Zane sat down on the edge of it.
Jo opened her eyes, stretched, put one hand on the side of her abdomen where Thing One appeared to be hiccupping, and only then drawled a sleepy, "Zane. Where's my ice cream?"
He chuckled. "It looks like you left me a present in the freezer."
"Yep, I figured you'd be sure to find it there." She tried to push herself up and then fell back against the pillows. He grinned and held out a hand and she used it to pull herself to a seating position. "Ice cream?" she repeated.
He nodded at the nightstand. The pint of ice cream was sitting there, a spoon on top of it, a manila envelope under it.
"You didn't open it?"
"Naw, I wanted to be with you."
She smiled at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Grabbing the ice cream and the spoon, she nodded at the envelope as she pulled the top off the container. "All yours."
He took a deep breath as he picked up the envelope. Glancing at her, he opened the loose flap and let the print outs from the ultrasound spill out into his lap. He picked up the first, then the second, then closed his eyes. "This is the proof that there is no God, you know."
Her smile stretched into a grin as she licked the spoon. "Or that there is a God and he's punishing you," she suggested.
"If he's punishing me, he's punishing you, too."
"Hmm…" she scooped out another spoonful and ate it thoughtfully. "Well, I guess if it's not God's fault, it's yours. That is how genetics works, right? The father's genes are responsible for determining the sex of the child? Or, you know, children? So twin boys would be because your - "
"Okay, there is a God, and he hates both of us," Zane interrupted her.
"You shouldn't have gotten us started calling them Thing One and Thing Two. We've probably already shaped their personalities."
"Oh, God." Zane closed his eyes in pain.
"See, you're praying already." Jo laughed as she shifted to the side of the bed so that he'd have room to lie next to her. She'd had a little time to get used to this idea after the ultrasound this afternoon. And she'd never minded it anyway, not the way he had. She'd grown up in an all-male family – having twin boys was going to feel like coming home.
"It's not gonna help," he said, sprawling next to her, and putting one arm over her.
"Alison thinks they might be identical," Jo offered.
"And that doesn't help either," he protested, pulling her a little closer. His hand slid down her side to where Thing One was still rhythmically thumping away. "Hiccups?"
"I think so," she said.
"Or maybe he's going to be a tap-dancer," Zane said gloomily.
Jo laughed, just as her phone started buzzing on the dresser. She sighed. "Will you –" she started, but she didn't have to finish as Zane pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room to the dresser.
"Fargo," he reported as he picked up her smart phone.
"Really?" Jo was puzzled. "Texting me? He usually calls."
"Hmm, or maybe not." Zane was looking at the screen of her phone, but crossed back to the bed and handed it to Jo, who stuck the spoon into the ice cream so that she could free up a hand to take the phone.
She looked at the screen. "Douglas, in trouble? Hmm." She rested the phone on her leg and took another bite of ice cream, before setting the pint container back on the nightstand. Picking up the phone, she quickly texted back, "Wt knd trble?"
Almost immediately, her phone buzzed a response, "Under attack by plants."
"Under attack?" Jo scowled at the phone. That didn't make sense. She rubbed a comforting hand across the spot where Thing One continued to thump, and texted, "whr?"
With not nearly enough time for an actual human being to type out a response, her phone buzzed. "On our way to S.A.R.A.H."
"wit?" Jo typed. Zane was still standing by the side of the bed, looking curious, but making no move to settle down again. There was no immediate response, so she tried again, typing out the words. "Who is this?"
"Tabitha," came the quick response.
"Tabitha!" Jo said aloud, surprised.
Zane shook his head. "Who's that?"
"Fargo's car," Jo answered without looking up, texting as quickly as she could, "Does he need help?"
"There is a woman named Ivy with him," came the immediate response, again much too quickly for a human being to have typed. "I cannot determine whether she is the cause of the problem or not, but although she is quite polite, I surmise that she is adversarial to Douglas."
Jo shook her head and laughed. Fargo's AI's were so very Fargo sometimes. "omw," she texted back and then, just in case Tabitha really didn't understand text-speak, "On my way. I'll be at S.A.R.A.H. in 20 minutes."
She pushed herself off the bed. Zane raised his eyebrows at her and she chuckled. "Fargo's in trouble," she said. "Sounds as if his girlfriend has the same plant problem but hasn't figured out how to control it and is a little pissed."
"Do you really need to go?" Zane asked.
Jo shrugged. "No big deal, really. But if Tabitha's asking for help, I should at least swing by and find out what's going on."
Zane frowned.
"Come with?" Jo asked, as she searched for her shoes, one hand pushing on the spot on her back that just flat-out ached when she stood. Being pregnant – even with twins – had been mostly easy. She hadn't thrown up once. But there was a dull ache in her back tonight that was miserable.
"If they're on their way to S.A.R.A.H., won't Carter be there?"
"He and Alison and the kids are on their way to Boston, remember? Zoe finished school this week so they're picking her up and then having a little family vacation in Maine." Jo had found her shoes, and was trying to slide them on without much luck.
"Oh, right. I wish Alison wasn't going out of town while you're so – so – "
"Huge is the word you're looking for," Jo said, finally managing to get her second shoe on. "But we've got a month to go. Besides, aren't you curious? Fargo's been trying to find this woman for months. I want to meet her."
Zane grinned at her. "She's a babe."
"You? Can stay home." Jo said, as she opened the small gun-safe built into the wall and started to take out a handgun, before pausing and frowning. The real gun safe – more of a gun room, really – was next to the firing range in the basement, but she kept a few of her favorites upstairs. Unfortunately, she could no longer reach her ankle holster, her belt holster no longer closed around her belly, and the shoulder holster she'd been using was going to press uncomfortably on Thing One.
"No, no, I'm definitely coming with. Wouldn't miss it."
Eh, she shouldn't need a weapon. It wasn't as if shooting plants would do any good.
