Had this idea in the backburner for a while and decided to go on out and pull it from the depths of my files of story ideas. The title is a pun, about the age-old saying about buns baking in ovens when referring to babies so I hope you enjoy that little joke. This story is also on Ao3.
"Just look at him," Mary hears for the billionth time. "He's so precious!"
Mary looks at the phone screen and smiles tightly. "Yeah, he is."
"When are you having children?" Her mother asks. "You are pushing thirty-"
"Mum!"
"Your birthday's next week," Marie continues as she scrolls through the other photos of James's new baby son.
Mary groans inwardly and excuses herself from her mother's presence. She thought this Sunday dinner would be tolerable. She could be at home, watching Netflix or Amazon Prime shows and films but she decided to be kind and attend since her brother bailed with excuses about his new son not sleeping through the night.
Little Harold is not the only baby in Mary's life right now. Her best friends have kids and just the other month, Kenna gave birth to a daughter and managed to get back to size zero within a couple of weeks. Lola had a girl four months back too and Greer's on her third child that is currently baking in the oven. She's the only one out of her friendship group that isn't in a relationship or has kids.
So, there go girls' nights out forever.
It doesn't help that she's single as fuck. She's had long-term relationships but one got violent and frightening real quick and the other one was a love rat so she's more or less done with men. She will rather be a single mother if one of them managed to get her pregnant but she doesn't really want a kid with a violent man or a cheating son of a bitch.
Her phone beeps with a text and she reads it, a smile growing on her face as she rolls her eyes hard.
{From Francis Valois: I'm in the country for your 30th. But I may have arrived a week early so desperately need a place to stay, pretty please? x}
She knows he has enough to afford a hotel room but knowing Francis and how they partied hard for his own thirtieth since her best friends were at home tending to babies and kids and his brother had to work to provide for his kids with Kenna, she is certain that they will enjoy her upcoming birthday with a lot of alcohol and bitching about their busy family members or friends.
{To Francis Valois: If you wanted a spot in my bed, you should have just said ;) Sure, come on over, I'll be home soon xx}
If one of her friends was looking over her shoulder, they'd pester her about how flirty her text back seems. She and Francis play with each other, test the boundaries to the point that people believe they were an item before stating that they were only friends and probably will forever be just friends.
They had sex twice when they were in university but that was when they were majorly drunk at parties and both admitted that it was better it was with each other than some random who may or may not have an STI.
It's not like Mary doesn't find Francis attractive, she sees the jealous glances she receives from girls who think they're together but Francis sees her like a little sister, who he seldom shares suggestive jokes with. No one shares sexual jokes with their little sister so their relationship is complicated at this point.
And she can't forget his long-time on-off girlfriend, Olivia d'Amencourt. A pretty blonde with a tiny waist and small but sexy boobs which always spill out whatever stupid dress she wears at gatherings Mary just happens to be invited to by Francis's parents. It's not like he can't invite her himself, he just doesn't want to make his girlfriend feel threatened.
According to their weekly chat last week, he and Olivia are even thinking about marriage, the bloody idiots. If Francis gets married, Mary will be the last one in their friendship group to have a relationship.
{From Francis Valois: Thanks, can't wait to snuggle! Love you, see you soon.}
Sighing, Mary only smiles at the text wryly before heading into the living room to wish her mother and stepfather 'farewell' for now. She's got a bed to make before her guest arrives.
...
"God, I've missed you," Francis breathes out, hugging Mary tightly before shifting his suitcase beside her door and closing the door. "Who else is down for a week-long party?"
Mary gives him a mock glare and he chuckles, raising a hand up in defence. "You and I both know they all cancelled because they're mothers."
"It's your thirtieth!"
"Tell them that!" Mary cries out, flopping down onto her sofa. She lives in a neat townhouse with bedrooms enough to house at least three kids but she's all alone and with her friends cancelling on her, she's even more alone.
Francis sighs heavily. "Right, get your coat."
"What?"
"We're going out."
She turns to give him a look. "I'm not dressed for-"
"Trust me, you are," Francis cuts her off, pulling her off her sofa and shoving her jean jacket into her arms. "Please?"
Mary groans and smiles tightly. "Take me away, Your Majesty."
They end up at Tesco's, Francis pushing the trolley into the alcohol aisle. There's a wonderful selection of drinks Mary wants to try but she'd rather not waste all of her money on alcohol, her job's paying enough for her bills, food and a few new bags and jewellery at the end of the month. And she never wants to ask her mother for money so she lives within her means.
"Choose anything you like and make it add up to thirty bottles. One for each year of your life," Francis tells her. "It can be hard, it can be fruity, whatever you want. I'll pay."
Mary bites back a grin before hurrying between each row of alcohol, Francis following dutifully. She stuffs two into the trolley at a time, not bothering to check the cost to be kind to Francis. He can afford it.
When she's done taking all of the alcohol she wants, they grab snacks and a carton of milk and Francis's favourite cereal since he's staying over indefinitely. Their trolley gets a few raised brows but Mary ignores them as she stuffs a bottle of chewing gum into the growing pile.
"We need bread, ham and cheese. Oh, and steaks," Francis tells her. "I'm cooking since you're letting me stay."
"You don't have to," Mary chides him, linking her arm with his as he pushes the trolley into the next aisle. "Having you be here is enough. At least I'm not going to be stuck with my mother for my birthday."
"Did you really think I'd miss you turning thirty?" Francis asks her. "It's important. You're leaving your twenties behind. Bring on the back pains and knee cracks."
Mary snorts. "I'm not one leg into a coffin, Francois," she replies. "Chill."
"I'm just saying, when I turned thirty, I think I saw my first grey hair," he tells her, making her laugh at his pout.
"You're still young to me, Francis," she says warmly.
...
"...if I look at one more picture of your new niece, I'll have to drown you in Vodka," Mary slurs, tearing her eyes away from Kenna and Bash's new baby. She's seen enough of the unnamed baby to last her a lifetime, it's just a reminder that she's not a mum yet.
Francis sighs wistfully, placing his glass on the coffee table as he shifts on his pillow on the floor. "I want a kid... Turning thirty has been a real eye-opener..."
Mary turns to him, her brows furrowed. "You want a kid?"
"Yeah. Many kids, actually," he says wistfully.
"You and Olivia will get married one day and have kids-"
"Olivia and I are done, for good," Francis cuts her off, taking another sip of his drink. "She doesn't want kids and suddenly, me turning thirty wasn't too attractive to her. She's got a toy boy."
Mary chokes on her drink, Francis patting her back lightly. "She's our age!"
"Yeah, and he's just turned eighteen," Francis replies. "I don't care, to be honest. Mum loved her at the start but then she became fake and Mum wanted to be rid of her on the Christmas dinner list and permanently."
Mary giggles softly. "Your mother's dramatic."
"I get that from her," Francis says with a small grin. "Yeah, so I'm single and really broody."
Mary sighs and takes a long sip from her drink. "Same."
"I get jealous of Bash, Leeza, Margot and even Claude."
"Claude has a baby?!"
Francis chuckles and nods, unlocking his phone to show her a picture of yet another baby in his family. "Lawrence. She didn't know she was pregnant until she gave birth to her ex-boyfriend's kid in our parents' downstairs bathroom."
"And she didn't question her weight gain?"
"You know how Claude is, her head's in the clouds and she put it down to stress-eating," Francis replies, shaking his head in slight belief. "But she doesn't regret having him so that's good. She's a good mum."
Mary smiles. "That's good."
"There are too many babies around us for that to be normal," Francis tells her with a heavy sigh. "It's the universe saying, 'get cracking on it'."
Mary ponders that thought. They're drunkenly musing but her idea seems completely sane to her. She does need to 'get cracking on it'. Babies are wonderful and she loves kids and really wants some of her own. She can't wait for Mr Right to turn up. What if he never turns up?
"Why don't we have a baby?" She asks quietly.
Francis spits his drink out and turns to her with wide eyes. Then he starts laughing. "You and me? How would that work?"
Mary scowls. "Oh, nice-"
"No!" Francis cries out, sobering up. "I didn't mean it like that..."
"I get it, you see me like your sister-"
"No, I..." Francis groans, slapping his forehead. "I'm stupid. Just let me think, okay?"
Mary tuts. "Sure."
After a short while, Francis says, "If we have a kid, how would we go about it? Would we have sex or...?"
Mary hasn't thought about that but it's not like they've not had sex before. Twice, she remembers. But they were younger then, more innocent than they are now. It was okay for them to risk their relationship back then but now, they're adults with jobs and mortgages. They can't just go and have sex like that.
"You could be a sperm donor. Friends do that," Mary suggests. "Like we could go to the IUI clinic and... well, it's pretty self-explanatory."
Francis nods slowly. "Yeah, that's an idea. I've never been a sperm donor. Will you pay me money?"
Mary laughs when she hears his teasing tone. "You're funny," she tells him.
"Think of it as goodwill," he replies lightly. "My genetically perfect sperm in return for someone to call me 'daddy'."
"I'm not calling you 'daddy'," Mary says, making them laugh in their drunken haze.
"I don't mean you, stupid!" Francis rolls his eyes. "But I wouldn't mind you calling me that."
Mary shoves his shoulder lightly. "Shut up."
"I meant when you're referring to our future kid. Get your mind out of the gutter, missy!" Francis cries out.
"You're the one who started it," she says cheekily. "So, are we doing this?"
A smile grows on Francis's face as he nods. "Yeah, we're doing this. We're having a baby."