I'd learned, after my first visit to Delacroix and Connie's less than relaxed state at my lack of communication while enraptured with Bucky and getting to know Sam and his family, to keep in touch with my overprotective and high strung best friend. Texts, selfies, calls while we drove down from New York and for the few days we stayed, both me AND Bucky had made sure to touch base with Connie - thinking it a better alternative to her doing something drastic like calling out the National Guard to drag the water for my skinned body.
We left the next morning, after going back to Sarah's house to say goodbye. Sam was still giving me a look that was a cross between smug and excited and I came very close to giving him a gentle tap on the back of his head like Sarah had. Hugs and promises - to let both of them know whether I REALLY was carrying a mini Bucky OR Brooke - Sarah reminded Sam that I COULD have a mini ME inside of me as easily as a mini Buck - AND THE date when we set one.
"And let me know -" Sam started to remind me, but I cut in.
Sighing, I shook my head. "What Strange figures out about my weird as hell nightmares that are getting worse?" I'd woken up in a full body sweat, tears streaming down my face and pain wracking my body this morning. Bucky felt impotent to help me, even when he mentioned that I hadn't cried out or screamed this time - not a total victory by any means, but another new twist. "We will, Sam."
"Dreams can get more vivid," Sarah offered, her smile soft and reassuring. "I know when I was pregnant with AJ I had the strangest dreams, and they got even more weird with Cass."
Bucky's lips were on my temple, warm and sweet. "Maybe that's what's making them worse?" He wanted so badly for something to be simple for me - at least about THIS.
"I hope so," another sigh, smaller this time, and then we were on our way home.
We stopped along the way, Bucky insisted - and not ONLY because we wanted to get lost in one another, but that was most definitely a perk. He insisted on doing all of the driving, since my nausea was still touch and go, and with it came bouts of exhaustion. Between pit stops for food, and rest - not only sleep, but also stops to remind one another of how restful making love could be - Bucky also insisted on putting that bagful of pregnancy tests to use.
"You want me to pee on another one?" I asked the morning before we went to say our goodbyes to Sam, Sarah, and the boys. I was staring at him like he might have caught my irrational hormones.
He shrugged, handing me one at random. "I read the box, Brooke." Yeah so did I, they were all pretty much the same. "It says that morning is the best time because -"
"The hormones are highest," I nodded, yeah, I'd read them too. "OK, why not?" I mean, he'd paid for them already. Off I went to the bathroom with him on my heels. "Are you planning on WATCHING me, Bucky?" I was amused by his excitement, not grossed out - for fuck's sake, it wasn't as if he wasn't intimately acquainted with ALL of my parts.
"Not if you're opposed," he was grinning down at me, and I rolled my eyes. "It's a little piss, Brooke, and then we can shower while we wait." With an offer like that -
When we FINALLY got out of the shower, once we were both absolutely certain that both of us were the squeakiest of squeaky clean - and I was loose limbed enough to need his help to get back out of the tub/shower combo, a glance at the test had his grin growing wider. Another positive to add to the soon growing pile. Because he insisted on my using each and EVERY one of those damn tests - I tinkled on each one during every damn stop we made - and guess what? Each one confirmed what I was fast growing comfortable with - Bucky and I were going to be parents.
Bucky got us home at dusk - not because he planned it that way, but because I got sick right after we had our last meal - a spectacular display of projectile vomiting that he luckily managed to pull over in time to keep OUTSIDE the car. I'd smelled the rotting scent that came from roadkill, even with the windows and top up, something we'd learned early on was a necessity - and the animal that was dead was a chipmunk for God's sake.
It took less time for my stomach to empty than it had for me to get the taste out of my mouth - bottled water and my toothbrush, along with a bottle of Listerine we also learned to keep handy - and then we had to find another place to stop so he could find something ice cold to cool me down. Vomiting not only wore me out, but it spiked my temperature - sweaty AND clammy, I couldn't rest until I had something cool to at least brush across my face, and even with the small styrofoam cooler we'd bought at one of the roadside stops filled up - I went through ice quickly.
"Do you want me to call her?" Bucky asked as he pulled the car into the shed. I groaned and he chuckled. "If we don't -"
"I know," exhausted from the trip and my waves of sickness, nightmares, with only the slight alleviation that came from the man I loved made me grumpy. "I know if we don't call her she'll end up coming over and camping out, but I don't feel up to it."
"Which is why," he parked the car and turned to me in the dim light, his brilliant white teeth flashing and forcing a smile of my own to come out to mirror him. "I'LL take the bullet." I sighed. "Let's get you inside first," his thumb brushed my cheek and I leaned into his touch. "You're still too warm."
"I did throw up a LOT," I murmured, still feeling gross from it. "Get me inside so we can check in with Connie and then -" He chuckled at my attempt at seduction.
"You need a hot bath, maybe some soup and crackers, and THEN -" he leaned over and kissed my forehead. "SLEEP." I groaned again. "Our little one is being pretty demanding, sweetheart, let me take care of you."
Nodding, I waited for him to get out and come around to my side to help me out - not only because he liked and expected to play the part of a gentleman, but because I WAS still pretty damn weak. And then - he led me into our house and did exactly what he said he would.