35. Sex Disagreements
Beth POV
The Sound of Silence by Disturbed
"What if it's a girl?" Robert asks me as he loads the fortnight's clothes in the laundry basket. He's been insistent on him doing most of the work around the house ever since we found out about my being pregnant a few weeks ago.
"It's a boy," I tell him for the hundredth time. "I just know. It's a mother's instinct. I was right with Shaun when I had him, too."
"Well, you're wrong this time," he says, walking out the back door and heading to the makeshift laundry room in the shed up north—I don't know how we'd actually managed to find a working washer dryer set. I can't help but laugh at his stubbornness, wondering if he just wants a girl or if he actually feels that strongly about it.
Both Shaun and Duncan took the news well—they seemed pretty excited, to be honest. I asked what they thought the gender was, but didn't really get an answer—they made it clear they were just happy to have another sibling, not even caring if it be brother or sister.
However, neither Robert, Curie, the boys, nor myself have told Danse yet. I haven't personally seen him since before finding out—whenever I darn near flipped a table at his absence. But for some reason, I feel more anxious about telling him than I did when Duncan and Shaun found out.
Robert walks back into the living room where I sit. "Guess who I ran into."
"On the giant metropolis which is none other than Spectacle Island, who knows." I laugh. "Danse?" I guess.
"Bingo. He asked me how you're doing—said he hasn't seen you in a while, and was starting to get worried. Especially since he's seen Curie come over here a few times in the last few weeks." He gives me a face. "We need to tell him."
"I know, I know. I just… I don't know how."
"Like how you told me would be good. Just don't drag it out so much as to give the man an ulcer," he chuckles.
"Did he say he was going to be busy today?"
"He said he was planning on doing some reps with his weights, but that's it."
"Okay." My mind starts going off on how I should even bring it up.
"Why are you so nervous?" I look up to see his grin. He knows me too well.
"I don't know," I tell him honestly. "Just am. But, he's gonna find out sooner or later. Might as well tell him now." I stand and suddenly realize I'm cold. "What'd you do with that blanket that was on the bed?"
"Uh, it's on the chair?" He points behind me, where I'd just been.
"Oh, yeah. Don't laugh at me!" I tell him as he chuckles and I reach for the worn cloth. "Hormones can make you go dingy."
"No. Hormones are making you dingy," he clarifies as we walk out the front door, the blanket draped over my shoulders like some sort of blanket queen.
"Come in," I hear Danse say after knocking on the door. Once inside, I see—and hear—he's doing exactly what he said he'd be doing. He completes a few more bench presses and sits up, clearly a bit winded. "Well, hey, Tiny Bull. Haven't seen you in a minute." So, the name did stick around after all.
I sigh and smile. "Hey, Danse. Yeah, it's been a bit. What's up?" Robert goes to his cabinet and helps himself to a beer, then sits on the couch, propping his feet up. Danse all but ignores him.
"Not a whole bunch. Been talking with Shaun a lot. It was definitely a good idea to tell him."
"Couldn't agree more. He seems to have really gotten comfortable with it."
"I knew with his being a kid, he wouldn't really care about being a synth." He grabs a rag and wipes the thin sheen of sweat off his face.
"To be honest," I start, "I think having you and Curie here has helped him a ton."
After a minute of nobody talking, Danse says, "So, I'm assuming this isn't a social visit. Haven't seen you out of the house in weeks." He stands and retrieves a beer himself, offering me one.
"No, thanks," I tell him, much to his surprise—I've never declined the drinks he's offered. "Well," I begin. "There's a reason for that. And it's actually the reason we're here." He glances over at Robert who hasn't said a word since walking in. He just continues to sip his beer, peering out the window to the water on the north side of the house.
He starts to look worried. "Is something wrong?" He looks back to me. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I assure him. "Well, I can't say nothing…"
"Beth, you're stretching it out," Robert warns, still looking out the window—not even bothering to explain. I sigh. He's right.
"Danse. Don't freak out, okay?" His brows furrow in confusion, but at least they'd lost their worried edge.
Although I'm still cold, I take the blanket off my frame and hand it to Robert, exposing my rapidly growing baby bump. Danse's eyes don't go nearly as round as I thought they would, but shock is quite evident in his features.
"Wh—?" he gets out, but stops, earning a quick, knowing look from Robert and myself. "When—how far are you?"
"According to Curie, fifteen weeks roughly. The boys are excited." I smile down at what I just know—despite Robert's thoughts—is a boy. "He thinks it's a girl," I point to the dad-to-be, "but you can't argue with a mother's instincts." I look pointedly at Robert. "It's a boy." He just rolls his eyes.
All the while, Danse has been just looking at me with a face I can't fathom—until he speaks. "So, I'm the last one to know…" I register his expression as one of dejection, finally. "He knows. Obviously," he points to Robert. "Shaun and Duncan know. Even Curie knows…" He sits back down on his bench press. "And after fifteen weeks… I just learned it myself."
"To be fair, Curie only knows because I wanted to make sure everything was going okay. And I kind of can't hide it from our sons. We only learned about it a few weeks—maybe a month?—ago."
"And it didn't occur to you to tell me?" He finishes his beer and chucks it into the bin—a good twelve or so feet away.
Robert stands and throws his bottle away also, then wordlessly leaves the house—allowing Danse and I to finish the conversation privately, as I'm assuming he feels the tension, too. He took the blanket with him, I think as my mind contemplates sending a shiver down my spine.
"I just didn't know how you'd take it, so I put it off… I'm sorry," I say earnestly.
"Why'd you put it off? How'd you think I'd take it?" He continues to stare at me as I move to the couch and sit—my feet too sore to stand anymore.
"I don't know," I say, feeling that feeling you get behind your eyes when your ducts are preparing for tears—the bloated sinus feeling. I look back up at him, as my eyes had drifted to the floor. "I'm sorry," I repeat, those damned tears making their unwanted appearance anyway. "I know I should have told you sooner." Danse realizes I really am upset—as those last words nearly came out with a bunch of snot—and moves next to me on the couch.
"Hey, don't cry…" he tells me, rubbing circles on my back.
"I can't stop right now even if I wanted to," I think I managed to say in English. "Hormones have me screwed up." My mind finally decides to make me shiver—or rather shudder, the shake was so violent.
"Are you cold?" he asks, to which I nod. He stands and brings the blanket from his own bed to me, wrapping it around my shoulders, crowning me as the blanket queen once more. "Beth, I'm sorry I was upset. It was selfish of me. But you do know I'm just worried, right?" I shake my head.
"Well," he starts. "There's been many good women who's died during childbirth. Really, the only one that comes to mind is James' wife. Shame, too—she was a brilliant scientist. Her daughter—the reason for Catherine's untimely demise—at least finished her mother's project."
All this sounds familiar somehow. "What was her daughter's name?"
"Kate, I believe. I never met the woman, but she was with the Brotherhood for a while, and was deemed the Lone Wanderer by that crazy radio DJ, Three Dog, back in the Capital Wasteland."
"Kate's mom died in childbirth?"
"Yes. Have you heard of her?" he asks.
"I've met her," I tell him. "She kept Duncan until Robert found the cure for his disease." He seemed to not like her just on the premise she "killed" her mother, so I add in, "She's a lovely woman—has a husband and son of her own."
Danse seems a bit shocked, but happily so. "Well… alright then." His face returns to its expression before the Kate tangent. "But you do understand why I reacted so negatively? I don't want you thinking—"
"It's fine," I assure. "I understand your concern. But I have had a child before. Plus, we have Curie here to monitor, and possibly deliver once the time comes. It'll all work out okay." I laugh at how I had to say nearly the same thing to Robert countless times. "What is it with you guys? Nervous for the pregnant lady? Chill out." I stand and make for the door—suddenly remembering his bedclothes around me still. I hand it to him—much to his reluctance—and head to the house, ready to help Robert make dinner, if only he'd let me.
MacCready POV
Beth wanted to go to the Prydwen and tell Maxson how she wouldn't be around for a while—but me, being protective, told her no, and that I'd go for her. She just sighed and kicked back further in her chair, knowing she couldn't do anything to change my mind. So, I took the boat, and off to the airship with me.
Once onboard, and giving the Vertibird just all the fingers in my mind, I went on to the observation deck to see the head honcho. "Elder," I address, all too familiar with the formal greeting nowadays.
He turns and looks at me, not sure how to greet me. Finally, he just says, "Civilian." He clears his throat. "How is our Paladin? I see she's not with you."
"No, sir." I decide continuing with the formality would be the best way to stay on his good side. After seeing Prime, and knowing he could sick that on me at any time for looking at him wrong… well, let's just say I don't want to piss him off. Not that I'd admit it or anything. "She's fine—at home, resting. She was going to come herself but I convinced her to allow me to run this errand."
"Oh? And what is that?"
"She wanted to tell you she won't be coming aboard the Prydwen anytime soon—or that she would not be able to complete any Brotherhood tasks."
His bushy brows raise on his forehead like two caterpillars. "What is the reasoning behind this? Is she okay?" he repeats himself, but in different wording.
"She's fine," I assure him. "Just out of commission for a while." Because of me, I think with a double edged meaning. Continuing on, "We have our two sons to take care of now." Would she want me to tell him? Ah, screw it. "And another on the way. I can't let her endanger herself and the baby by doing tasks for the Brotherhood—and after the whole deal with the Institute, I think she's earned some time off. A break, maternity leave—call it what you may." Would she think that was too presumptuous of me to talk to him like that? Welp, too late now.
"She's expecting?" he asks, his tone not really a question. His expression tells me he's a little upset about it. I don't know why—he has no reason to be. He has other people to do his work for him—and it's not even like it's his anyway. Then I realize it must be because he knows it's mine. In his eyes, I'm just a civilian after all.
"Yes, she is," I finally answer. "And we couldn't be any more pleased."
I turn to walk away only to be stopped by him saying, "If she's going to be absent for an extended length of time, perhaps it would interest you to take her place until she can return?"
I'm flabbergasted. Did he just insult me then offer me a job? I turn to face him again. "No, thank you. I'd rather be with my family—my two sons and my pregnant wife. You understand—I must get back to them now. Good day." I don't see how he could understand, though. I've never heard of a Lady Maxson. Whatever.
Beth POV
Hands To Myself by Selena Gomez
Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac
"He said what?" I can't believe my own ears. "Maxson offered you to take my place in the Brotherhood until further notice?" I can't help but to laugh, laying my book down between the arm of the chair and my leg.
"Yeah, that's what he said. Oh. Also, he wanted me to tell you this: since he hasn't seen you since the Institute blew up, he wanted me to say that he's promoted you to Sentinel. He felt after the job you did, you deserve it—and that that's the highest rank possible, really. You're not too far under him, from the sounds of things."
I feel my whole face go round as he says this. "Sentinel?" I take a deep breath—which is getting harder to do everyday. "Wow. A mom and a Sentinel. Impressive." I smile.
"Sentinel smentinel," he says. "You'll always be Elder in my book." He gives me a kiss as he walks to the fridge.
"Because I'm older than you?" I giggle.
"Not necessarily," he chuckles. "Although you could take it that way if you wanted." He looks back at me from the kitchen. "I just meant because you're like the leader of this house." I give him a dubious expression.
Moving on from the subject, I ask him, "So, what do you want for your birthday?"
"My birthday?" he asks while rummaging through the fridge for leftovers.
"Yes, your birthday," I say sarcastically. Normally, "You told me a while back that your birthday is on June thirtieth, right?" He nods. "Well, today's the twenty-seventh. So, what do you want?"
"You already got me my watch from Fallon's," he says, giving up on the fridge and moving to the pantry.
"That wasn't for your birthday, that was a wedding gift. You need something else." I stand and head toward the kitchen myself, tired of seeing him struggle to find something to eat.
He stops his search and looks at me. "Honestly, all I need is to know I have you. And this little girl." He bends down and kisses the ever present, ever growing bulge in my stomach. "That's all I need."
I sigh as he turns back to the shelf. "Boy," I correct.
"I can be just as stubborn as you," he says as he picks up a can of potato crisps. "I'm always gonna say it's a girl, until proven otherwise."
"Well, then it's going to be another long five months," I tell him, grabbing the can from him. "Now, let me cook something. I'm about to go crazy with you doing everything around here."
"But—"
"Nope. I'm making stew, and there's nothing you can do about it." I grab some carrots, tatos, and razorgrain flour from their respective places, and start making the now-familiar dish.
I've really missed this, I think as I start to smell the aroma of the ingredients blending together.
On the night before Robert's birthday, I made a cake with the boys—well… it was kind of a cake. I tried to emulate the ingredients I used to make homemade cakes with—but of course, with everything different, it wasn't quite the same. Everybody said it tasted great—Danse especially. With his being in the Brotherhood for most of his life, I don't think he's ever tasted cake, or even celebrated birthdays, so he enjoyed the "party" more than anyone, I think—although he wouldn't dare fess up to it.
Since it was a spur of the moment get together, nobody had any gifts, to which Robert assured was fine. He said he was never used to the idea of presents on people's birthdays anyway, so not to worry about it. I still felt bad, but he told me what he'd said the other day: that me and his baby girl was good enough for him. Again, I said it was a boy, but he just ignored me. I know he heard me, but he just kept looking the other way, pretending he didn't.
It's not until the following morning—his actual birthday—I'm able to give him something worthwhile.
I haven't taken a real shower like this in so long, I think as I wash the suds from my hair. Feeling the length of it in my hands, I continue, Need to get this cut soon. I never liked long hair—nothing past my shoulders.
As our valuable finds kept piling up, I couldn't believe my eyes at how much stuff still worked after the bombs fell. And, yet again, I was surprised to find a fully functional shower in a house in the remote parts of Boston.
I can't see with my back turned, but I feel a sudden burst of cold air, and hear, "Have room for one more?" I don't really answer—I just smile and welcome Robert's arms as they wrap around me, his lips as they leave a scorching kiss on the side of my neck. I turn to face him, leaving a trail of my own kisses down his chest. He puts his hand under my chin to raise it, kissing me deeply and passionately, only to stop and pull away. "Sorry," he apologizes. "It's hard not to—you're just really sexy pregnant, you know that?" He acts like he's about to get out of the shower when I grab his wrist.
"Then, do something about it," I challenge, giving him what he's called an impish grin.
"I… no. I don't want to hurt the baby." He goes to leave again.
"You won't," I say as I grab his hand, stopping him. "Look at it this way: I can finally give you your birthday gift: me. People in my era used to have birthday sex all the time. That, and I really want you right now. You kinda got me going there." He looks divided, tortured even. "Oh, Robert. I know you." I glance around until I find what I'm looking for. "C'mon, don't make me drop the soap."
He chuckles. After a few seconds of deliberation, "You don't have to do that. If you say it's fine, then I trust you. No need to seduce me further."
I continue to look at him with my unmoving eyes as I resume the devilish smile. Knocking the soap off the shelf, I utter with feigned innocence, "Oops."