Lucas sat at the counter in his kitchen, thumbing through a magazine that had arrived for him and sipping a bottle of beer, when the door opened and slammed harshly. He braced himself for whatever was about to happen.
Mood swings. Lovely.
When it first started happening, Lucas actually found it adorable. He told her it reminded him of when they first met and she 'hated' him with everything in her, throwing insults his way and demeaning him every chance she got. She'd scowled at him and kinked her brow, placed her hand on her hip and told him that he "picked the wrong fucking thing to reminisce about."
Then the mood swings weren't so endearing anymore.
It was around the same time that she ran out of things to wear. She'd gotten some essentials, but she loved her 'non-pregnant' wardrobe, and she'd actually cried when she couldn't button her favourite jacket. Lucas had to call Brooke that day to calm Peyton down. He figured anything clothing related was better handled by Brooke than by him.
So Peyton had gone shopping on Friday after work, and she told him she'd just go to his place afterward.
"Would it kill these stores to have some sort of decent maternity wear?" she asked irately as she walked into the apartment, setting down a single bag. Throwing would probably be more accurate.
"No luck?" He figured that was a safe question.
"Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I want to wear a freaking polyester tent for the next five months!"
"Did you talk to Brooke?" he asked, pulling her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. He felt her relax a little bit against him, which had been his objective.
"She had to go to Paris for a few days," she mumbled against him. "I hate it when she leaves."
"I know, babe," he said sympathetically, stroking her hair.
In the time since Brooke found out about 'baby Scott' as she called it, she and Peyton had become even closer, which no one had ever thought was even possible. Brooke, along with Lucas, of course, was Peyton's rock. She called Peyton with remedies for aches and pains, approved by her holistic gynecologist (Lucas hadn't even known there was such a thing; even still, he thought it pretty bogus). Any time Peyton had a concern or a question or just needed to talk, she'd talk to Lucas, then to Brooke.
So there was a huge downside to Brooke's insane schedule and demanding job. She traveled a lot, leaving Peyton 'alone', though they all knew she wasn't really alone. If she was freaking out about something and Brooke was away, she'd talk to Lucas, then call Nathan, who would make jokes and ridiculous comments until he had her laughing again. Lucas loved that Peyton and Nathan were so close.
"And, it's fucking snowing!" she said with disdain, her mood instantly angry again.
"I thought you loved snow."
"Not right now I don't!"
"OK," he said, grasping her wrist loosely with his hand. "Come here and just...calm down, alright?"
"Don't patronize me, Lucas."
"I'm not," he insisted as he sat her down on the sofa. "You just can't get so upset."
"Easy for you to say. You have clothes to wear," she mumbled, crossing her arms and looking away from him.
"Hey, I'll walk around here naked if it makes you feel any better," he said with a smirk, forcing her to look at him and roll her eyes. She was smiling though. Mission accomplished.
"Honestly, can we do that?" she asked, very seriously. "Just close all the blinds and work from here tomorrow so I don't have to wear clothes?"
"Are you...Really?" he asked in amusement. And maybe a little bit of anticipation.
"Yes. I don't want people judging me. I just want one day without the stares," she said, shaking her head.
Since she'd started really showing, there were hushed whispers almost everywhere she went. Everyone in the office basically knew that she and Lucas were together, though they still didn't publicly display any of that, and that he was the father of her baby. There were certain gossips, however, that liked to start stupid rumors and ask questions that spread like wildfire through the company. She really didn't want to care, but it was hard to ignore.
Not to mention, she was snapped in a few photos when she'd gone to lunch with Nathan one Saturday, and a local gossip website raised questions as to whether Lucas or Nathan was the father. It would have been funny if it wasn't so intrusive and inappropriate.
It was all just ridiculous, and it was really starting to get to her.
"I'll go call Steve," Lucas said softly. He stood from his place before leaning down to kiss the crown of her head. "You could get naked right now if you wanted to."
"Oh! You want to see the dress I bought?" she asked, looking up at him with a smile. "It's actually really nice."
"I'd love to see it, babe," he said, taking her hand to help her up. "I'll be out in a sec."
He wasn't sure if it was the drastic mood swings and hormones that had made her so calm, so quickly, or if it was him. As he made his way to his library to call their boss, he chose to believe that it was all him.
He was trying his best. He didn't get short with her, no matter how short she got with him. He took it all in stride. He held her if she got overwhelmed and wanted to cry, and he let her shout about silly things that she didn't think were silly, and he watched girly movies because she insisted she wanted to. She'd end up crying and he'd have to wipe her tears, and he'd do that too.
He walked into his bedroom just in time to see her smoothing out the fabric of the red dress she was wearing. It was more of a deep burgundy or something. All he saw was his gorgeous girl in a gorgeous dress, running her hands over her stomach, letting them rest there when she didn't know he was looking.
"Wow," he said softly, smiling when she turned to look at him.
"You like it?" she asked skeptically. He absolutely loved that she had no idea how damn sexy she was.
"I love it," he said honestly, walking towards her. "It's perfect."
"I should have bought it in every colour."
"I wouldn't complain," he murmured, kissing her neck as he stood behind her.
It was just a simple long sleeved cotton wrap dress. There was a tie at the side that she'd fastened in the perfect bow, and it was a little low cut (which he'd never complain about, especially now with her fuller breasts). She'd put on a little camisole underneath, which he felt was tasteful enough for the office.
Though, if she wanted to work naked from home for the rest of her pregnancy, he'd be fine with that, too.
"Maybe I'll go back tomorrow and get another one," she said, turning to look at him. "Is that crazy?"
"Not crazy. You should wear what you're comfortable in."
"You know how dark your eyes are right now?" she asked with a laugh. "You really do like it, don't you?"
"It's not the dress. It's the girl," he insisted. "You kill me."
"You're not allowed to die yet," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I like you too much."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?" she asked.
"I promise."
It wasn't the fist time they'd had a conversation like that. He still didn't quite have the nerve to ask her to marry him yet. He wasn't sure she'd say yes. She still maintained that she didn't want to get married just because they were having a baby. He didn't know how to convince her that the baby had little or nothing to do with it, that he wanted to marry her because he was in love with her, and for no other reason.
And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't want to have to convince her of anything. He just wanted her to want to marry him too.
----
"No! I absolutely will not give you an interview," Peyton said, her tone businesslike as she strutted down a New York City street. "Because my personal life doesn't belong on the pages of some glossy magazine. No matter who I'm in a relationship with."
She ended the call with force and dropped her phone into her bag before wrapping her scarf a little tighter around her neck. She was getting really damn sick of these calls. The press would use their accreditation to get through Mia to Peyton, saying they were from whatever magazine, then Peyton's cell would ring and she'd have to answer questions as ridiculous as whether or not she'd performed an in-utero paternity test or if she'd caused a rift in the Scott family. Clearly Nathan and Lucas attending every Knicks home game together didn't do enough to dispel the rumors. So Mia was being extra diligent, generally not give Peyton's number out at all. However, every so often, someone would get through to her and she'd have to deal with it all.
That night, all she wanted was to pick up a few things from the market, go to Lucas' place, put on her pajamas, and have him rub her feet while she watched television and ate some Doritos. He didn't yet know that he was going to be massaging her, but he'd know soon enough. And it wasn't like he'd complain about it anyway. She'd learned that he'd do anything for her, whether she asked him to or not. She loved that.
"OK," she said, stepping through the door and dropping her bags. "What do I have to do to prove that I haven't had sex with Nathan?"
Lucas just stood there, staring blankly. Those weren't exactly the first words he expected to hear.
He'd had meetings all day and hadn't been in the office, and she was still sleeping when he'd left in the morning. He was hoping that day apart would make their evening a little more special. It seemed, however, that she'd forgotten the occasion altogether.
"What's going on in here?" she asked in confusion.
There were a few candles lit around the apartment, and some music playing, and several bouquets of white roses (exactly like the ones she'd thrown in the trash all those months ago) sitting on various surfaces in the apartment.
"It's our six month anniversary," he said, smiling, though he really wasn't sure he should.
"Oh my God!" she cried, her hand flying to her mouth. "I forgot! I didn't even...Luke, I'm so sorry!"
"As long as you didn't just come from Nathan's place or something, you're forgiven," he teased.
"I don't have...I didn't get you anything," she said as he pulled her further into the apartment. "I'm the worst girlfriend ever."
"Hey. No you aren't. I don't need anything other than you. And him." He placed his hand on her stomach and leaned forward to kiss her.
"Or her."
"Right. Or her," he said with a laugh. "When do we find that out, anyway?"
"I dunno. Soon."
She was distracted as she looked around the apartment at the effort he'd put into doing something special for her. He really didn't need to. She definitely loved that he had, though. And she loved that he didn't make everything all ridiculous and outwardly romantic. Of course, it was romantic, but not absurdly so. She knew that wasn't in either of their tastes.
"Well, I wanted to surprise you. I didn't know it'd be this easy," he said with a laugh.
"I feel like...I'm so sorry."
"Don't." He shook his head and kissed her quickly. "What do you want to do?"
"Honestly?"
"Honestly," he said, laughing at the way she'd scrunched her nose.
"I want to put on pajamas, eat chips, and watch Entourage."
He laughed again and kissed her again and caressed her back a little bit. "Go change."
"I love you," she said with a smile. "Like...I really, really love you."
"Because I let you eat chips and watch T.V. on our anniversary?" he called down the hall after her as she made her way to the bedroom to change.
"Yes!" she shouted back.
And so when she returned in her little striped shorts and a tank top that didn't quite cover her stomach, she sat on the sofa and draped her feet over his legs. He massaged her feet without her even having to ask. That was why she loved him. Well, one of the reasons.
"I love Jeremy Piven."
"Babe, I know. You tell me that every time we watch this show," he said. He stole a chip, and she scowled at him playfully.
"Have I told you that I met him once?" she asked with her brow kinked. He shook his head in the negative. "At a party in L.A. He's like, the coolest guy."
"Huh."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're pouting," she noted. Her eyes lit up and she smiled. "You're jealous."
"I am not jealous," he said indignantly. "Especially not of some guy you've only met once."
"He's sexy."
"OK, stop. I'm jealous."
She could only laugh and lean a little closer to him, and when she kissed his cheek, he sighed.
"I don't love him, love him," she amended. "I love him like the way you love Carrie Underwood. Which, by the way, is totally weird."
"Is not. She's sexy."
"She's a great girl, too," Peyton said, popping another chip into her mouth. "So nice."
"You never told me you've met her!" he proclaimed, like she'd been keeping the world's worst secret.
"I wanted to make sure you loved me enough before I started telling you that I've got her number stored in my phone."
"That's the Carrie in your phone!?"
"Wrong answer," she laughed. "You're supposed to say that you love me and no one else and even though you think other women are sexy, you still think I'm sexier. Even if I'm almost five months pregnant and have my hand is covered in Dorito cheese."
"Oh," he said and turned back to the television, though there was a smirk on his face.
"Lucas!" she whined.
"Oh please. You really think I'm ever going to be with anyone else at this point?"
"Ever?"
"Well, now that I know she's stored in your phone..."
"Hey!"
"I'm joking. I love you. No one else. You know that. You're being needy," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
"I'm allowed."
"Is that right?"
"Yes," she said with finality.
He got up to grab something from the kitchen, and he knelt beside her and kissed her, telling her very seriously that he loved her, that it was never changing, and that no one in the world could hold a candle to her. They both knew she'd just been joking and she didn't need him to say it. She still liked that he had, though.
----
"Oh my God! Luke!" she cried one Saturday evening after dinner. Lucas was doing dishes and rushed into the room.
"What?" he asked. She had both hands on her stomach, and he moved to kneel beside her. "What is it?"
"A kick," she said in wonder, locking eyes with him. "Like, a real kick."
She'd been able to feel the baby moving around for a few weeks, but it was nothing strong enough for anyone else to feel. Lucas got all pouty (it was adorable) every time she said the baby was moving, knowing he wouldn't be able to feel it. He'd tried to tell her that it wasn't fair, but she just raised her brow as if to ask him if he really wanted to have that discussion.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah. Come here," she said, grabbing his hand and placing it on the spot where she'd just felt the movement. "Just wait."
And so they waited for what felt like forever. It was only a matter of minutes, but both of them were completely still and completely silent, hoping for that wonderful moment. When it happened, that little thump against Lucas' hand, they both laughed a bit and he rest his forehead against hers and kissed her gently.
"That is...That's a baby," Lucas said, laughing at the absurdity of his own statement.
"Yeah," she whispered.
He had more dishes to do. Quite a few of them, actually. He really didn't want to leave Peyton's side though, and it was silly, since she was fine, but he just wanted to be with her.
And he wanted more than that, too.
"Can we talk about when you're moving in?" he asked.
Apparently, though he didn't know it, that was completely the wrong thing to say.
"What?"
"Well...We're getting closer and closer to the due date, and I think we should do this all soon," he explained.
"But...Why am I the one who has to move?" she asked, her voice just a little angry. He wanted to keep it just a little angry.
"I just assumed..."
"That since I'm the girl, I have to move?"
"What? No. That's not what I'm saying."
"Well what are you saying, Lucas?" she asked, furrowing her brow at him.
Really, it wasn't any big surprise that he was bringing it up. If she was being honest, she was probably a little shocked he hadn't mentioned something sooner. But she'd told him in the beginning that she didn't want to do anything just because of the pregnancy. She was afraid that's all he was suggesting this move for. In the back of her mind, she had to know that it wasn't.
"I want...some kind of commitment from you," he admitted seriously.
"Lucas, don't be ridiculous. I'm committed."
"Peyton, you're...I know. I know that. But this is different, OK? We're having a baby. I need to know...I need to know I'm here."
He didn't care that it didn't necessarily made sense, because he felt she'd understand. He didn't want to ever be cut out of their baby's life, or her life, or anything else. He wanted to have the rest of their lives together.
He was absolutely damn terrified by her resistance to move in.
"That's not even an issue," she insisted. "I told you that. This isn't...I'm not going anywhere."
"But you're not coming here," he mumbled. "We practically live together anyway."
"But I just have to conveniently plug myself into your life, right? Forget what I want?"
"That's not even remotely what I'm implying," he said, unable to hide his frustration.
"Why here?"
"Because it's bigger," he said simply. "Your place is three bedroom, mine is four. Well, three and a library. The baby will have its own room, then you can have the other for your records. If I moved to your place, where would I put my books?"
"Your books? That's what's important to you?" she asked, standing from the sofa. Even though they were mid-argument, he helped her up. It wasn't a conscious thing that he expected praise for, and it wasn't something she had any intention of acknowledging.
"You're what's important to me. I'm just thinking rationally. Clearly, you're not."
As soon as he'd said it, he cursed himself. He tipped his head back and groaned at his own stupidity, and Peyton didn't say another word. She just walked away from him and down the hall towards one of the spare bedrooms, and she wasted no time slamming the door closed in an unspoken warning not to follow her.
He stood there in his living room for a bit, wondering how in the hell he'd managed to screw up that important conversation quite so badly. And after such a monumental moment, too. He was an idiot. He should have been more delicate about it. He should have known she wouldn't want to leave her house, and he should have given her all those perfect reasons why it was the best idea.
He most definitely should not have called her irrational.
Peyton lay on the bed in that spacious spare bedroom, the one that was hardly ever used. She was on her side and clutching a pillow, and all she could think was that she may have overreacted. She wanted to live with him. But it scared her. She loved her independence, and she loved her space. She didn't want to answer to anyone. She didn't think he'd try to take any of that away from her, but what if she just needed time alone? What if she just wanted to escape everything for an hour and be alone? Then what?
But the more she lay on the bed in that room, the more everything kind of started making sense.
It wasn't until an hour later that the door was pushed open and Lucas stood there, his arms crossed as he stared at her, looking beautiful and just a little sad (he hated himself for that part).
"I thought this could be the baby's room," he said, looking around the room.
That was exactly what she had been thinking.
"You're right," she said softly after a few minutes. "It's...you're right."
He loved being right. He hated how small her voice was. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard her so unsure of herself.
"I'm sorry. I sprung all this on you, and..."
"Lucas, I'm just scared," she finally admitted. He moved to sit next to her on the bed and brushed her hair away from her face.
"Of what, sweetheart?"
"What if it's not what you think it'll be like?" she asked. "What if...I mean, I know we spend all our time together anyway, but...it could all change."
"Not a chance," he insisted softly. "I won't let it." He could see she was about to say more, but he didn't want her to. "I know you're independent and you don't really want to rely on me."
"Luke, that's not..."
But it was. They both knew that.
"But I want you to." He smiled at her, forcing her to let her own lips curl upward. "Because I like taking care of you."
"I've never lived with anyone but my dad and Brooke," she said, letting him take her hand.
"I've never lived with anyone either. You're the only one who's made me want to," he said. "And you're the only one who's ever had me thinking about marriage."
He had no idea how she'd react to that, but he had to say it. He figured he'd start easing her into that idea. If she reacted this way about living together, he thought she might hit him if he proposed.
"Lucas, don't..."
"I'm not saying now," he interrupted quickly. "I'm saying when you're ready. Because I want to marry you...any time. And it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that we're having this baby. I think I wanted to marry you even before this little one."
"Liar."
"I am not," he insisted with a laugh. "I just love you, Peyton."
"I love you, too." It was a whisper, and he leaned down to kiss her, and as soon as their lips met, the baby kicked against his palm as it rest on her stomach. "Baby loves you, too."
His heart melted.
"Are you serious about...marriage?" she asked quietly.
"You just let me know when." He smiled at her and watched as she blushed. He kissed her cheek because he felt like he had to after that.
"OK," she whispered. "And I'll call a realtor on Monday."
"Alright." He was trying to be nonchalant. He couldn't hide his smile.
He didn't expect her to pull his arm and force him to lay down next to her, but she did, and he did. And they lay there, watching each other and wrapped up in each other in the room that would be their baby's.
She thought, as she drifted off to sleep in that very spot, that maybe if she could live with a man, she could be married to one too. Eventually. She'd let him know. She loved that he wasn't pressuring her. It only made her want to marry him. She wondered if that was his plan all along.
Sneaky, Lucas.