AN: This is just a little one shot for the person who wanted me to use the dialogue like "You're my new pillow."
I own nothing from The Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
The loud sigh was followed by a growl this time.
Tyreese swallowed back his amusement. He waited a moment to see if the bed would stop shaking—to see if her last attempt to get comfortable would be "the one."
She was still for less than thirty seconds, or so it seemed, before she began wallowing around again. She was, at this point, somewhat reminiscent of a fish trapped up on dock.
And Tyreese felt a little like he had fallen on a trampoline full of jumping kids and was trying to sleep while they constantly bounced him around.
"You know," Tyreese spoke into the darkness of the bedroom, "I'm starting to get a little seasick."
She sighed. Maybe that sound was even a whimper.
"I'm sorry, Ty," Carol said. It was more than evident in her tone of voice that she meant her apology, and Tyreese winced. He hated for Carol to apologize to him, especially for something that didn't really merit an apology. She'd lived too many years with an abusive husband that made her apologize for everything—as if even the bad weather could, somehow, be caused by her for no other reason than to inconvenience him—and Tyreese had sworn to himself that he would never make her apologize for ridiculous things.
"I don't want an apology, Carol," Tyreese said. "I was just teasing." He rolled over and, finding the switch on the lamp, he bathed the room in a dim, comfortable light. She was somewhat facing him, blankets thrown off, and she looked absolutely miserable. "What I want, more than anything, is to know what I can do for you. How can I help you? If you'll tell me? I'll do anything I can."
She frowned, and tears quickly puddled at her eyelids. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he might have been worried about the sudden show of emotion. As it was, he'd learned that hormones made her tears free-flowing and, beyond that, she had a tendency to get slightly emotional any time that he showed her what she believed to be an abundance of tenderness. Of course, for Carol, showing simple human kindness was often viewed as something that nearly qualified Tyreese for sainthood.
"I don't want to complain."
"I want you to complain."
There was a momentary stare off. He wiped hot tears from her cheeks as they spilled out of her eyes, and she stared at him, waiting to see if he would change his mind and decide that he couldn't tolerate her complaints. He waited her out. She sighed again. The sigh was a sound that had been pretty steady throughout the night.
"I can't get comfortable," Carol said. "My back hurts. And my legs hurt. And my neck hurts. And no matter how I lie, my arm goes to sleep and my toes cramp. And I have pillows, but they're too many pillows and not enough pillows all at the same time. They're just not right."
"Do you want me to get you—another pillow?" Tyreese asked.
"There aren't anymore pillows," Carol said, her voice cracking slightly. "None except yours and Sophia's."
"You can have my pillow," Tyreese offered.
"I don't want to take your pillow, Ty," Carol said.
Tyreese swallowed back amusement that he was absolutely certain was out of place and would not be at all welcomed at that moment.
"Carol—you are nearly a week and a half overdue with our son. My son. If you want my pillow? You can have my pillow. It's the least I can give to you for all you're giving to me. And I'll go to the store first thing in the morning and I'll buy you every pillow they have on the shelves. I'll get you whatever you need."
"I need him to come out," Carol said. "I know I said—we want him to stay in there until he's ready, as long as he's healthy and not in any kind of distress, because…clearly he needs something I'm giving him right now, but…I'm in distress, Ty."
She did look miserable. Her doctor had insisted that the baby was healthy and he was fine. He was relaxed, and unless there was a problem, there was no need to induce labor just yet. She was monitoring the situation closely, but she wasn't alarmed.
Carol had been fine with it at first—and she was fine with it most of the time—but it was clear that at two thirty in the morning, she was feeling less fine with it.
They'd tried everything. They'd tried time with Carol bopping around the house on this large rubber ball that was meant to help get things going. She'd practically become some kind of expert with the thing, and Tyreese joked that he was going to enter her into the pregnancy ball Olympics. They'd tried eating spicy food until Carol had cried over the fire in her mouth and Tyreese had felt forced to tap out, himself, from that little endeavor. They'd walked the neighborhood enough that all their neighbors were starting a pool on when their little one would make his debut. They'd had sex until Tyreese's dick was almost as ready to tap out as his tongue had been when they'd been sharing hot peppers and crying together over the lack of results.
Carol had tried every single old wives' tale that she could find.
And their baby boy remained healthy, and happy, and determined to make his mother wait the four more days until her doctor had said, if he hadn't arrived on his own by then, she could come to the hospital to be given something that would start her contractions.
Tyreese had learned that he could tolerate a lot of things, but he could not stand to see Carol suffer.
"Come here," he said, reaching his arms out in her direction.
"What?" She asked. "What are you going to do?"
Tyreese laughed quietly.
"You're going to come here," Tyreese said. "And—I'm going to hold both of you."
"What do you mean?" Carol asked.
"Come here," Tyreese repeated. "Don't act like you're nervous. I swore to you that I would never hurt you, and I never will. Please don't ever look at me like I make you nervous, Carol. Just—come here. Bring your pillow hoard."
Carol relaxed and came to him, pulling her pillows behind her. Most of them were smashed, misshapen, and even a little soggy with sweat. Tyreese didn't say anything. He simply took the hoard of pillows and began arranging them in keeping with his vision.
"What are you doing?" Carol asked.
"I'm making a nest," Tyreese said. "Come here. Put your head right here. There you go. Put this pillow behind your back and—this one under your hips. This one under that leg and—go ahead, put that leg over me. You're not going to hurt me, Carol."
"My belly's going to weigh on you," Carol warned.
"It can compete with my belly," Tyreese said. "And since mine is just from that good food you feed me, and yours is full of our baby boy? Yours wins. Besides, I'd like to hold him for a little while…as much as I can. Go ahead, relax. Put your head down on me."
Slowly, Carol snuggled into the nest he'd built for her, using his own body to fill curves and contours where the pillows fell short.
She sighed, but this time it sounded a bit more contented. She rubbed her face against him. He could feel her body relaxing where she touched him.
"There," he said, rubbing her with his hands only as much as he could without moving and risking disturbing any comfort she'd found. "That better?"
She hummed and, for the first time in what felt like ages, she sounded satisfied—and very tired.
"What about the light, Ty?"
"Is it bothering you?"
"No," Carol said.
"Then, fuck the light, Carol," Tyreese said with a laugh. "The only thing I care about is…are you comfortable?"
"Mmmmm…yes. You've got a new job. You're my new pillow," she said. Her voice was heavy with fatigue and, hopefully, with approaching sleep. She laughed quietly—the sweet little giggle that often came with her teasing. Tyreese couldn't help but laugh in response.
"I've been worse things before," he teased. "This suits me just fine. You just get some sleep."
"Ty?" He hummed at her. "I love you."
"I love you, too. Now let's all get some sleep, because if we've got any luck at all? Tomorrow we might get to celebrate a birthday."