"Fuck."

The weakness of her voice echoed in stark contrast to the curse Mercedes uttered as she hunched over the toilet bowl for the second time that night. She'd been throwing up for the better part of twenty minutes this time and, still, her stomach roiled uncomfortably.

She whimpered as she felt another lurch. Seconds later, she was throwing up again. After that bout, she lowered herself to the cool tile floor and groaned.

It'd been two days of this already—every time she ate something, her stomach turned on her and kicked it all back up. She was tired and fucking hungry. As if to emphasize her thought, her stomach growled loudly and Mercedes pouted. "I tried to feed you," she grunted out bitterly. "Shut up, now."

Resting her head against her forearm, she blew out a breath, thankful that her stomach was giving her a moment's reprieve. She knew exactly what this was. It'd been eleven years since the last time, but the symptoms were instantly recognizable.

The cramping that had left her calling upon the good lord, the soreness in her breasts that had banned Sam's access to his favorite playthings until further notice, and the fact that her stomach convulsed at the mere smell of food these days made the cause for her condition overwhelmingly clear.

She was knocked the hell up—and she was going to kill Sam.

Those green eyes that lit up as he regarded her like he was a child and she was a large bowl of ice cream with all the works; those lips that eagerly kissed any available patch of her skin every chance he got; those hands that followed the trails of tingles left in the wake of his kisses; that low rumble of his voice that intoxicated her brain, coaxed her arousal, and convinced her to do some things.

Damn him.

But she couldn't really blame just him. She'd been right there granting her acquiescence with every moan, whimper, and cry of encouragement—not to mention all of the times she'd been the one to get him going.

Now she was here and the timing couldn't have been worse.

While Mercedes, the woman and mother, was over moon—she really was, despite her current position sprawled on the bathroom floor—Mercedes the artist, the diva, who was on the verge of finishing an album after a two year break, couldn't ebb her concern.

People loved to say that she could do it all, but she was about to be the busiest she'd been in years. The promotion and touring would start soon, not to mention all of the other responsibilities she already juggled as a mother, a wife, and a woman in the limelight.

Could she add another ball into the mix without everything crashing down? She was doubtful, especially given the fact that she couldn't even stand up straight at the moment.

"Baby?" Sam's voice called out, thick with sleep, from the bedroom they shared and Mercedes let out another weak curse. She'd managed to do this without waking him up the night before.

"I'm in the bathroom," she said louder, trying to keep the deathly ill tones out of her voice so he wouldn't come in. No such luck—she heard his bare feet padding across the carpet moments later and groaned again, letting her head fall against her arm.

"What the hell?" Sam asked from the doorway, where he stood in his boxer shorts, clearly startled by the sight of his wife slumped against the floor. He quickly knelt, picking her up, and nestled her against him.

She could see the panic in his eyes from her position, laid back against his thighs as he cradled his left arm around her head. He ran his hand into her hair, brushing the strands back to look at her face more clearly. "What's wrong?" he asked, an alarmed expression clouding his features. He looked like a little kid with his wide eyes and messy bed-head. "Should I call an ambulance? I'll call—."

"I'm fine," Mercedes interrupted with a scratchy voice, trying to sit up, but he held her fast against him.

"Right. The bathroom floor is so much more comfortable than our bed," Sam replied, clearly unconvinced. "Try again. What's wrong?"

"Like you don't know. It's all your fault," Mercedes said, trying her best to glare accusingly, but only really succeeding at a pout.

His only response was an adorably confused scrunch of his face. "I think I'm pregnant, Sam." She felt bad for simply blurting it like that, but the growing smile on his face told her he wasn't too concerned with that at the moment.

"What?" he asked, having clearly heard her. He couldn't wipe his smile away.

"I think I'm pregnant," Mercedes said, laughing when he pulled her up abruptly and brought her into a tight hug.

"Baby! You're serious?" His green eyes sparkled happily when he pulled back to study her face and Mercedes detected a light sheen of tears.

"I haven't taken the test yet," Mercedes said quietly, "but the symptoms all fit. The throwing up, the soreness…"

"The cookie eating," Sam finished, making her smile. She'd been giving Cameron a run for his money these days.

He would have mentioned the mood swings, given the tongue lashing he'd received over eating the last cookie that afternoon, but he didn't want risk another one by bringing it up and reminding her.

Instead he dipped his head to touch his lips to hers, ultimately frowning as she kept pulling her face away from him.

"I've been throwing up all night," she said by way of explanation when he looked at her questioningly, not surprised when he rolled his eyes and gave her a chaste kiss anyway.

He pulled her back into a hug and she sighed against him, still not able to shake her concern.

Sam could feel something was off. She seemed tense as he held her and she'd been subdued as she shared her news before. This moment had been a far cry from when they suspected she was pregnant with Cameron. That had been a chaotic exchange filled with cries and screams and joy—a seeming culmination of all of their dreams coming true. Now she seemed troubled, and that troubled him.

He let her go and watched her carefully as she stood up to the sink, swishing some mouthwash, before she headed for their bedroom. She got back into their bed, lying on her right side and pulled the comforter up under her arm. Sam followed, getting under the comforter as well, and lying across from her as he continued to watch her.

They lay in this position a while, simply looking at one another before Sam spoke again. His expression was a bit fearful as he asked, "Are you not happy about this?" and reached out his right hand to squeeze her left arm. There wasn't an ounce of judgment in his tone, just genuine concern for her and wanting to understand what was upsetting her.

"No. It's not that. Of course I am," she said, and she was. She'd always dreamed of another child, maybe a daughter, to round out their little family. "It's just," she continued, taking Sam's hand and lacing their fingers together, "with Cameron, we had a bit of a plan, and I was taking a break from working. This is a definite surprise. The timing's all wrong and with everything that's going on right now, I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Are you kidding?" Sam asked with a soft smile, before lifting his hand to frame her cheek. "You're as ready as you need to be, baby. You can do anything—especially this. I have it on good authority that you already kick a lot of ass in the mom department." He leaned closer to her, still framing her face with his hand, and sweetly kissed her lips.

"Whose authority?" Mercedes challenged with a small smile when he'd pulled away again.

"Cameron's. Tyler's, too," Sam replied without hesitation, making Mercedes giggle. "And you're an amazing wife," he added with another kiss.

"I suppose that's on your authority?" she teased.

"Mm," Sam intoned in agreement, kissing her again. "Better only be on my authority, too." She giggled again and shook her head at his silliness. "You're an incredibly accomplished and loved artist. You've got a slew of Grammy's and sold out venues that say so."

He brought her into a tight hug against him. "You can do this, baby. I know you can," he said sincerely, rubbing her back. "I know you're scared, but I believe in you. I always have. God, I wish you could see you like I see you, babe. You're the strongest person I know," Sam said and Mercedes sighed against him, feeling uplifted by his words.

"Do you remember when you thought you couldn't move to LA? You were so scared," Sam said softly after a quiet moment, his hand still sweeping across her back soothingly.

Mercedes nodded against him while her fingers lightly traced patterns into his back. "I didn't want to fail and prove my dad right."

"And you didn't," Sam said. "You moved, worked your ass off at that label until they gave you that demo deal, and then started touring around the country in that rickety van that smelled like nachos."

Mercedes nodded. "That was the year before you moved out. You had Carol take you to Costco and you sent me that care package with 18 cans of Febreze," she said laughing and Sam joined her as he thought back on the memory.

"You told me it was too much but you used every can," Sam said smugly. Mercedes conceded his point with a nod, smiling into his chest. "You made it happened for yourself, though. Your first single raced up the charts and the little crowds eventually got huge. And the van got upgraded to a classy tour bus with better ventilation," Sam said.

"Thank God for that. That van was vile," Mercedes said.

"But you dealt with it, did what you had to do, and came out on top," Sam insisted.

"Yeah," Mercedes said quietly.

"And do you remember how stressed out you got about everything right before we had Cameron? You cried about everything, babe. My mom had to talk you off the ledge that time in Babies 'R Us you just started freaking out over which diaper brand to stock up on cause they had so many different kinds."

Mercedes laughed outright at the memory and pulled back to look at his face. "Oh my goodness, that was the hormones! And how do you even remember that?"

"How could I forget? I thought something was gravely wrong!" Sam defended, looking at her wide-eyed but still smiling. "We were doing good, just reading all the labels and then, out of nowhere, you were like, 'How. am I. supposed. to know?'" Sam said imitating her meltdown in the middle of the store, crumpled face, flailing arms, and all.

"Your mom literally spent twenty minutes reading stats to me off Google about the difference between organic diapers and the regular stuff, and then she talked about what she used for all of you and told me I wasn't a terrible mom for not knowing. Oh my God, I was such a mess," Mercedes said, covering her giggling face in shame.

"You were," Sam agreed, chuckling when Mercedes burrowed her still covered face against his chest. "But look at you now," he said wrapping his arms around her back and holding her tightly. "You've got the parenting thing down. You learned, you adjusted, and we've got Cam to show for it today."

"And he's almost normal," Mercedes joked, making Sam laugh. She moved her arms so they circled around him again and pressed herself tightly against him.

They were quiet for a little while, enjoying each other's presence, and just sharing the moment with one another—thinking back on everything they'd been talking about.

Mercedes was lost in her thoughts, reflecting silently on how far they'd come since high school when they'd had no clue where they'd end up, to college and beginning to live out their dreams, to starting their family. All the pitfalls they'd encountered, they'd made it through—even when she'd been certain of their impending doom, they'd found a way to work it out.

As if he knew what she'd been thinking, Sam said softly, "I know you're scared now, too. It's a new challenge and you're going to have a lot going on, but you're a trooper. You'll make it. You always have. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but I know you can do it. All the hard times that ever come your way, you've found a way push through so gracefully. I know this'll be the same."

"I haven't done it all on my own," Mercedes whispered quietly, pointedly dropping a lingering kiss onto his chest.

"And you won't ever have to do this on your own. You definitely have me," he said lowering his lips to kiss hers chastely. "And you have Cameron," he said when he pulled away. "You have your family, my family, and Mike and Tina. Tyler. This is going to be amazing!" he said.

Mercedes nodded, her small smile growing bigger. She was pregnant and, though it wasn't at all expected, it wasn't unwelcome. She'd struggle, she knew it, but she had the best support group she could possibly want for when times got rough. They'd help her navigate this new chapter as they had everything else.

For the first time since she'd realized she was pregnant, she felt her senses of dread subside, making way for the excitement and joy that lay just underneath.

"We're gonna have a baby," she whispered at Sam, smiling and glad to have this moment to redeem the less than excited way she'd delivered the news before.

Mercedes could see him getting emotional again, the light sheen of tears returning to his eyes as he brushed a hand over her stomach.

She realized he'd pushed aside his own emotion that must have been swirling inside of him to focus on her and her feelings. It was a bit of a habit with him and she couldn't have loved him more for it. She told him as much, kissing him in thanks.

"Cam's gonna have a sister," Sam said after a moment, pulling back a bit to look at her.

"How do you know the baby's gonna be a girl? We haven't even done the first ultrasound," Mercedes asked with a smile.

"Because I want to her to be," Sam said. "A little girl who's gonna be just as amazing and gorgeous as her momma." This he delivered in a low rumble that turned Mercedes to putty, shortly before closing the space between their lips once again, and kissing his wife breathless.

"Careful with that voice and those lips," she warned him. "That's exactly how we ended up here."

"Careful's kinda irrelevant at this point," he said shifting to kiss her neck, and slipping his hand inside of her sleep shirt and over her belly. "You're already pregnant, baby," he whispered huskily against her skin. "Can't do much more damage than that," he said, pulling her in for another bone-melting kiss.

She would have protested, but she figured he was right—plus his hands and tongue had begun working together to ensure she could barely do more than babble, let alone string together an entire argument.

Damn him.

A/N: Aw. This is the story of Lilliana. It correlates with Chapter 6: One of Those Days. I hope you liked it. This was literally called 'Fetus' forever. I hope you appreciate the title change lol.

Please leave me a review! I like those.