"Go on, Ingrid. Wake Daddy up."
If it wasn't Lucy's giggling and words of encouragement to Ingrid that were slowly easing Bickslow out of his sleep, then it was the tiny hand that was pawing at his face, roughly grasping and swatting at him.
He slowly tried to turn his head to push the side of his face into the pillow more with a quiet groan, except when it did, it just gave Ingrid access to his ear and the shorter tufts of hair on the sides of his head, and she instead began to pull on those while occasionally grasping at his cheek open-handedly.
"Aw, does the birthday boy not want to get up today?" Lucy teased, laughing again when Bickslow turned his head back sightly so Ingrid couldn't pull on his hair anymore. Lucy knew the pain though, because as Ingrid's fine motor skills developed, she pulled on hair. A lot. And for such a small person, it actually hurt.
"No, he does not," Bickslow mumbled as a smile pulled at his lips, just from seeing Ingrid right before him. He always smiled when he saw Ingrid, even if it was some ungodly hour in the morning and he'd been woken up by the curiosity of the infant, because much like Lucy's smile and laugh, Ingrid's own were highly contagious. Of course, it was just another set of things Ingrid inherited from her mother, not that Bickslow was complaining.
But even though he was smiling and still letting Ingrid swat at his face as he rolled onto his side, he still didn't want to get up.
Because it was his birthday.
And under normal circumstances, Bickslow wouldn't have been so depressed as soon as he'd woken up on his birthday, but this one was different. Along with all of the differences between themselves and their counterparts, their ages were also different. So instead of turning twenty-three on that fine day, he was turning twenty-seven.
Not twenty-three, but twenty-seven, which meant he'd basically skipped most of his twenties, and he was now considerably closer to that not so magical thirty. Lucy, on the other hand… well, she was lucky, because she was turning what Bickslow should have been in just a couple more months.
But if the age itself wasn't the most depressing thing to Bickslow, then it was the fact that the five odd years he'd missed had actually been spent with Lucy in that world, and Bickslow was almost jealous of his other self for that. Sure, the guy might have been the biggest asshole on the planet for cheating on his wife, but still, he'd spent nearly five years with her; three years of apparent dating before he'd proposed, and their second wedding anniversary would be coming up shortly too.
The fact that Bickslow himself had missed those nearly five years was disheartening, because he figured they would have been great. Sure, they'd each occasionally remember things from their lives in that world – memories that weren't actually their own – but he still wished he'd had it all. He didn't want just the few odd memories, because if anything, they made it worse. They were just reminders that they'd essentially taken over someone's life and world; that Ingrid and the baby weren't really and truly theirs, either, no matter how much they saw them as their own.
And if they could get over all of that, then they would, but until they figured out a way to finally get past it all, to let themselves truly see their lives as their own and not someone else's, they were stuck with those constant reminders, however infrequent or frequent they may be.
Until they found that way, though, they were never really going to be as happy as they possibly could be, despite being incredibly happy with how things were then in that very moment.
Lucy sat forward on her knees, leaning on her elbows with her chin resting in her palms and a wide grin on her face – partly because so far, she didn't feel half as terrible as what she usually had for the last couple of weeks. "So, did you want to do anything later for your birthday, or were you going to go hang out with Laxus and the rest of your team?" she asked, straightening to rest her hands on the tops of her thighs instead when Bickslow slowly sat up and rubbed his hands through his already dishevelled hair.
Honestly, Lucy wouldn't have minded if Bickslow decided he'd rather do something with her instead of his team or something, but if he chose to spend his birthday with his team, she wouldn't be upset. Herself and Bickslow were close – and getting closer every day without actually talking about anything still – but she knew his team were still his best friends.
Bickslow shrugged as he lifted up Ingrid from where she was barely holding herself up on her arms on the soft mattress, and then he gently started to bounce Ingrid with her feet resting on his legs before she could start kicking and giggling with her sheer delight (it was something neither Bickslow nor Lucy could see as being so entertaining).
"I don't really feel like doing anything, so I'll probably just come home after work," he said, smiling as he watched Ingrid amuse herself by something so simple as he lifted her ever so slightly every now and then. Then, with a smirk directed at Lucy, he added, "Besides, I'd rather spend my birthday with my two favourite girls."
And it was the truth. Mostly. Ingrid was his favourite girl, and so was Lucy. Of course, the fact that he really would rather spend his free time with Lucy and Ingrid wasn't the only reason he'd prefer to just go home after his birthday instead of go out with his team, which he usually did every year.
It was because he hadn't spoken to Laxus since their little conversation on the Friday of the week before. Bickslow was doing his best at avoiding him, but it was kind of hard when he worked with him. When it came to the meetings he'd had over the last two days, he'd answered all the work-related questions Laxus had shot at him, but that was it. Bickslow just didn't want to talk to Laxus, because he knew that if he did, Laxus would ask what was going on between himself and Lucy, and the truth was that he didn't know.
He still didn't know what was going on between them, and he still didn't know whether he was actually in love with her or not.
The only problem was that he really wanted to know the answers to both of those, but at the same time, he didn't want to know. Bickslow liked the ways things were going with Lucy, and he didn't want to ruin it by maybe hinting or even pushing into something that was a little… clearer. More official, even.
He'd never been good with 'official' relationships, and that was because he'd never really had one. He was an idiotic womanising ass, and he always had been. He didn't do relationships, because they were tricky. They were hard, time consuming, involved way too much effort and he'd never been one to enjoy commitments. Casual flings were convenient. He got what he wanted, and someone else got what they wanted. No strings attached. He didn't care when he hurt their feelings after he got bored and they got too attached, and if anything, he found it amusing.
He got a kick out of toying with someone's emotions.
Bickslow just wasn't a very nice person.
But when it came to Lucy, Bickslow actually wanted a relationship, or something close to one, at least. He didn't want anything casual and meaningless, and he didn't want to toy with her emotions and end up hurting her.
But he also didn't want to end up ruining what they had, because what if they did end up exploring the idea of them together a little more thoroughly, and what if they actually got to a stage where they really were a 'we' or an 'us,' only to end up having a falling out? What then? That couldn't happen, not when they lived together, they had Ingrid, and another baby on the way. They were constantly going to be in each other's lives, so Bickslow didn't want to risk making things uncomfortable again.
It was just that Bickslow was simultaneously scared of actually maybe getting Lucy, and also losing her.
"Only your two favourites?" Lucy said, another bubbly laugh escaping. "I believe you mean three."
"It's not a girl," he insisted.
She shrugged then, crawling backwards to the edge of the bed to head over to the bathroom to take a quick shower. "We'll just have to wait and see about that," she said, giggling again as she closed the door behind her, leaving Bickslow on the bed with Ingrid.
Lucy stood in front of the dining table and staring up at the photos on the wall just next to it. There was something about them that had just been irritating her for a while, and until Bickslow walked into the room, quickly shrugging the black jacket on as he emerged from the hall, Lucy hadn't known what it was.
It wasn't just that the centrepiece of the entire arrangement had been missing since Bickslow had broken it, and was now just an empty spot on the wall.
It was that the photos were, if anything, the biggest reminder that their lives weren't really theirs, and they never once had been.
And they'd tried moving past that, and they'd tried making them their own lives, but no matter what they did, there'd always been those memories; those reminders. Whether they be the occasional thought that popped into their heads at any given moment, a sudden glimpse of a memory – something they'd done and experienced together in that world, or something physical.
Something like the wedding rings that they'd each stopped wearing, or like the photos that were everywhere.
Those reminders were things they'd always lived with throughout their time in that world, yet it had only been in the last couple of weeks that their hatred for those constant reminders had grown to new levels.
It had only been since they'd found out Lucy was pregnant, and they'd grown close in such a short amount of time, and had really tried their hardest to make their lives truly their own. More so than usual, anyway.
Not even two weeks earlier, she'd had her heart completely shattered, and it was something that neither could have done anything about. It was an unfortunate and unfair event, but it had happened and there was no other choice but to move on from it and try and get over it as best she could. The only issue was that she's been able to move on and put it behind her much quicker than she reasoned she was supposed to. Not even two weeks later, her heart was back in one piece and she was happy, when there'd been a period where not that long ago where she'd resigned to feeling hurt and betrayed for a long time to come.
But even though she was happy, she wanted to be happier. She wanted a life that was truly her own.
Was that greedy of her to want that? Surely not.
Surely it wasn't greedy to be as happy as possible, and Lucy could see that kind of life right in front of her. It wasn't in the photos, because those photos were just reminders. She wasn't going to get happiness from those.
But she could, however, get it from her family; her family that were all in the same room, right then and right there. They were her happiness, and that was the life that she wanted to call solely her own. It was Bickslow, Ingrid, and the baby that would give her that complete happiness, but despite it being so close, it was so far away.
There was something blocking her from getting it, and as silly as it was, Lucy was convinced it was the damn photographs on the wall that she'd been staring at the for the last twenty minutes.
But she'd had enough of that. She couldn't stare any longer. She couldn't be constantly reminded of all that wasn't hers.
So Lucy turned and pulled out one of the chairs from the dining table and dragged it just that little bit closer to where she stood, and pushed it up against the console table against the wall. She took a hold of the red and black striped fabric of the dress she was wearing, and lifted it up just enough so she could carefully climb up onto the chair before letting go of it and letting the hem fall back to just above her ankles.
"Oi, what the hell are you doing?!"
Lucy made something close to resembling a squeak as she was suddenly pulled from the chair before she could even get one of the frames at the top, and her hands instinctively held onto the strong arms that had wrapped around her and just below her hips.
"What am I doing?" she shrieked, looking back over her shoulder to Bickslow. "What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!"
He shook his head. "I asked first. What were you doing standing on a chair? You could have fallen."
"Oh, like hell I would have!"
"But you could have," Bickslow insisted. He was set on not letting Lucy leave the actual ground for the next seven odd months. No chairs, ladders, or anything of the sort, because he didn't want to risk letting her get hurt. Or hurting the baby, for that matter. He couldn't have that happen.
Lucy rolled her eyes. She knew what it was about, because it wasn't the first time Bickslow had been just a little bit too paranoid about her safety, and the baby's, she guessed. Just on the weekend, she'd been carrying a slightly fuller than usual washing basket to the bedroom to sort it out on the bed like they usually did, except Bickslow had basically pried the basket from her hands as soon as she'd left the damn laundry and went on about how she shouldn't be lifting something so heavy. Hell, she was convinced Ingrid weighed more than the washing did, and it wasn't like Bickslow was going to tell her she couldn't hold Ingrid.
Well… she hoped. Though, he wasn't going to be able to stop her from holding her daughter, no matter how hard he tried.
But still, Bickslow was already being a little too overbearing with the simplest of things. She wasn't going to fall from the chair, but she knew he wasn't going to give up.
"I wouldn't have fallen," she sighed. "Now, can you put me down?"
"Are you going to get back on the chair if I put you down?"
"No," she muttered.
Bickslow grinned as he loosened the hold he had on her and gently lowered her to her feet on the ground, not on the chair. He considered it a win. "Good," he said. So then, when he pushed the chair back to the table, he looked back down to Lucy who was back to staring at the photos with a slight scowl. "What were you even doing?"
"I want to take them all down," she replied, and as she unfolded her arms and stepped towards the console table next to the wall, and instead reached for a photo that was actually within reach. "They're reminders, and I don't want to see them anymore. I just… I just don't want to keep pretending that I did all of this. I just want to have my own life without everything reminding me that not even this is truly my own life," she mumbled.
And Bickslow really did understand that, and for the first time, he too saw the photos as what they really were: reminders of a life they didn't really live, and reminders of the fact they were still trying to create their own lives from all of the mess.
Without a single word, he went for the frames at the top that he could reach easy enough without actually having to stand on a chair, unlike Lucy. Who knows? Maybe having the photos gone would actually help them move on. At that point, they were willing to try anything, because even without talking about it, they both knew they felt the same in regards to wanting a life they could call their own. Truly.
And for Lucy, that wasn't just limited to getting rid of all of the reminders of her and Bickslow's counterparts. The life she called her own was one that made her happy – really happy – and there was still one thing she had to deal with, and luckily for her, she'd known how to deal with that one for a bit.
The only reason Lucy was happy then was because of Bickslow. Bickslow was the reason her heart was in one piece, even though he'd indirectly shattered it in the first place. Bickslow was the only reason she'd gotten through everything in the last week and a bit – hell, he was the only reason she'd made it that far in the new world in general. Ever since day one, he'd been by her side, and ever since day one, he'd been helping her. Of course, she didn't realise just how long he'd been doing so until recently.
He'd been there when she was confused and upset by Natsu and Lisanna for no reason. He'd been there when she'd been panicking about having to suddenly look after a baby, and he'd been there to help her figure it all out because they'd had no other choice but to learn, even though he'd also been freaking out about it all. He'd been there to tell her everything would be okay when they'd found out she was pregnant, and he'd been there, by her side, ever since.
He'd held her when she'd needed to be held, he'd made her laugh when she'd needed to only smile, and he'd given her space on the odd occasion she'd needed it. He'd given her everything she'd needed in the last month and a half; everything and more, and he'd been the one to be there for her when no one else had been.
But most of all, he'd made her happy, when she'd been convinced she wasn't going to be for a long time. Bickslow had made her happy in a world that was confusing and terrifying, but she knew she wasn't as happy as she could be.
She could still be happier, but she needed to do something. She needed to take a chance, because she was done avoiding it all. No more avoiding, running, or just waiting to see where things would end up going. Lucy knew exactly what she wanted, and that was Bickslow. The only problem she faced then was that she didn't know what Bickslow wanted.
She didn't know if Bickslow was fine with the way things were between them, or if he wanted more like she did.
But even though she was scared about what would happen, because she was putting her feelings out in the open for once and she was going to be incredibly exposed, she knew it had to be done.
It needed to be done because it was the only way Lucy was going to be able to understand what she felt for Bickslow, because the fact she didn't quite understand her own feelings and emotions was terrifying. She knew she cared for him more than she should after an incredibly short amount of time, and that she'd never felt like that before. For anyone. Everything was all so new and scary, yet… It made her all the more excited.
She'd come across something once that said it only took one fifth of a second to fall in love. That was all it took for your brain to go into overdrive and flood your body with hormones that makes you get that rush and that high from seeing someone. Of course, it probably didn't help that her body was already being overrun with hormones from the pregnancy that were already making her just a little bit crazy, but she couldn't help but think there was a very real possibility she'd somehow fallen in love with Bickslow.
Or she was at least falling in love with him.
Lucy was the type of person who believed in that 'love at first sight' nonsense, but it wasn't something she'd exactly based her life on, either. Sure, she believed that it was possible to know that you've met the right person for you as soon pretty quickly, but she also believed it was going to take more than one fifth of a second, one minute, or even one day to actually fall in love.
But somehow, with Bickslow, she wanted to throw all of that out of the window. It wasn't like she believed Bickslow was 'the one' for her, because she didn't. Though he might be. She didn't know, but she wanted to.
Still, she needed to see where things with Bickslow were going, because she needed to see if what she felt was actual love, and not just her hormones going haywire.
She needed to see if they could work together, because hell, when she stared at pictures of different versions of them on a daily basis, she couldn't help but wonder if they worked in every universe or world or dimension. That wasn't even bringing up her book, either, because those characters had been based on them – the real them, so there wasn't just one case of a Bickslow and Lucy working out, but there was two. There were two separate versions of themselves that found a way to work, and the fact that one of them was fiction was irrelevant.
Lucy was a dreamer. She could dream about fiction all day long, because she was also an author. It's just what she did.
She was a dreamer and an author, and right then, her dreams of happiness were centred on Bickslow.
So as Bickslow turned to place one of the frames on the table with the other ones they'd been slowly removing from the wall, Lucy quickly reached out to wrap her hands around his tie and she pulled him down, letting his lips crash against hers. She'd needed to do something bold just to get it started, because there was no way she was going to be able to get that conversation going with just words alone, because there was a chance the words wouldn't have come out at all.
And the kiss had surprised Bickslow at first, but just as quickly as the shock had come over him, it had disappeared – in a split second, really – and his hands had sought out her waist to hold her against him.
"I don't want to keep avoiding things, Bicks," she whispered once they'd pulled apart and he'd lowered his head slightly to rest his forehead on hers.
Ah, so it was time for the somewhat dreaded, mostly anticipated conversation about their relationship or lack thereof and what they were doing about it. Even though he still didn't know whether he was in love with her or not and he was scared of losing her, he knew that it was time to stop avoiding things. They needed to have a conversation about where they were going, and he realised that it was a conversation he wanted to have.
He wanted to have that conversation because he wanted to see if there was an actual possibility of them working out together, maybe in the long run, and there was no way they'd figure that out if they were stuck in the stage of both wanting it yet not wanting to ruin what they had, because what they had was great.
But it was a chance. It was time to take that chance and see if things could work out, and maybe, just maybe, it would help Bickslow figure out how feelings, god, did he want that.
"Neither do I," he said softly. "But… Can we avoid it for a little bit longer? Just until tonight."
"Oh… Okay?" She didn't understand why they couldn't have that conversation right then. Why would he want to wait?
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth then. "I'm late for work. Trust me, I'd rather stay here and do this." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips then. "But I've gotta go."
Oh! Of course! Work!
Lucy wanted to slap her own forehead then as she let out a quiet giggle with a slight nod. "Right, yeah," she mumbled as they separated, Bickslow going around to the table by the door to grab his keys and Lucy returning to the wall to finish taking down the photos.
After crouching down to kiss the top of Ingrid's head and say good bye to the infant occupying herself with some of her toys on the rug in the lounge, Bickslow went back to the door. "I'll see you later, alright?" he said, pulling the front door open and quickly making sure he had everything else he needed in his pockets.
Lucy nodded as she placed another frame on the stack on the table. "Enjoy your day," she said cheerily. "And don't work too hard."
"You know I won't," he said with a smirk and pulled the door closed gently.
But hey, so far, things had gone pretty well. His day could only get better from there, and maybe, just maybe, his day would end with something even better, and he couldn't help but look forward to that.
They were still trying to move on and create their own lives, and finally, there was a possibility of those lives actually being together – not because they had to because of Ingrid and the façade they'd been almost forced to keep up, but because they wanted to be.
How could Bickslow not enjoy his day when he had all of that going for him?
Bickslow sat at his desk with his ankles crossed and on the top of the desk as he stared out into the city and aimlessly swirled the liquid around his mouth before swallowing it, ignoring the faintest of burns as it slid down. The sun had long since set, yet he was still at work, almost wallowing in his own misery. His day wasn't supposed to have ending like that. He was supposed to have enjoyed his day; his entire day.
And sure, his day had been going pretty well for the most part. He'd gone to all of his stupid meetings (bar the one that Laxus had requested he go to, like he had for the last two days), he'd caught up on reports and paperwork, and he ate a pink cupcake and blew out the candle on top of it when someone came into his office with it.
He'd laughed at Evergreen's gift of an inflatable zimmer frame, and he'd smiled at Freed's, which was an incredibly fine bottle of twenty-one-year-old whiskey that he never expected to be opening and drinking alone that same night, partly because he rarely had time to drink those days. Not that he missed it much, anyway. A few gifts cards, a couple of random small gifts that made him chuckle, and a whole bunch of birthday cards from people who worked on the floor or knew him from around the building.
For the most part, it had been a good day.
But then he'd had some free time between one meeting and the last meeting of the day, and he'd managed to finish the book that the other Lucy had written. The last goddamn line of the entire fucking book was 'I always loved you,' and it was essentially Bickslow who said it. To Lucy. About Lucy.
You see, Bickslow now had a bit of a problem, now that he'd finished the book. Not only did he finally realise why Lucy had said 'interesting' once she'd finished it, because that was all he'd been able to say once he'd put the damn thing down, but he also realised something else, and that something else was much, much more important. It was the question he'd been tormenting himself with for… days? Weeks? He didn't know anymore, because as soon as that one idea had popped into his head, he hadn't been able to let it go. He'd just stopped counting how long it was, because he could no longer tell if it was something recent or something that he'd been ignoring for so long.
Somehow, finishing the book had made him realise his true feelings, and he really didn't know how a book of all things could have done that. Maybe it was because the book ran uncannily parallel to their lives in that moment, or maybe it was because the book was about them.
But even though it was fiction – and Bickslow had to remember that – it helped him understand his feelings. Seeing the Bickslow in the book struggle with the exact same thing he'd been going through then allowed him to finally see something that had been there for god knows how long, but he could see it clearly, and that was all Bickslow had wanted.
He could finally see that he was in love with Lucy. It wasn't just a possibility. It wasn't incredibly likely that he was. It wasn't that he might be in love with her.
He was in love with her. He loved Lucy.
And that was exactly why Bickslow had a problem. Most people were happy when they realise they're in love, but Bickslow wasn't one of those people. Sure, he was happy, to an extent, but he was also confused as all hell, and beyond anything, scared. Love shouldn't have been something that scared him, but the entire time, that's all he'd been.
It was simple, yet complex. It was easy, yet difficult. It was amazing, beautiful, fun, and… fulfilling.
But it was love, and that's what scared him.
It was new, but it was also old, because he had no idea how long he'd been in love with her. Maybe it had been always, like in the book; maybe all of the times he'd promised himself to never hurt her again – or see her be hurt – and all the times he'd felt like he cared about her safety and her as a whole just a little bit too much whilst still in their own world had been him being in love with her. What if everything he'd ever thought was just his guilt over hurting her and wanting to protect her was because he'd been in love with her and he'd just never seen it, or even though about the possibility of it.
Fuck, what if he really had been in love with her the entire time?
But… did it really matter how long he'd been in love with her? The more Bickslow drank and stared out at the city lights beneath and around him, the more he questioned just what he was doing. Why the fuck had he been over-thinking everything and making things problematic for himself? Why had been questioning everything? Why had he been drinking in his office alone since five o'clock?
Hell, why the fuck was he even at work? He had no reason to be wallowing in misery, because he just had no reason to be miserable. He had no reason to be confused or scared (sort of), because he only had a reason to be over the fucking moon.
It didn't matter how long he'd been in love with Lucy, why he was, or how it had happened. The only thing that mattered was that he was. He was without a doubt in love with her, and suddenly, it was like someone had thrown a chair at his head or something, because all off the muddled up thoughts that he'd been so confused over for god knows how long, were all in a somewhat logical order.
He loved Lucy, and he was happy about that. Like a normal person, he was actually happy about being in love. For the first time. It was amazing, beautiful, and fun, and fulfilling. When he thought about all of that, he thought of Lucy; she was amazing, beautiful, fun, and she'd made his life more fulfilled, and it wasn't just because of Ingrid, the baby, and being a father. It was her, too.
He wasn't supposed to be in his office, he was supposed to be back at home with Lucy and Ingrid, even though she was probably asleep by now since it was just past eight. He was supposed to be home, because that's where he was happiest.
Besides, just thinking about the fact Lucy wanted to actually try and making something work between them and it made Bickslow all the more excited. He needed to go and have that conversation, and he needed to try and refrain from blurting out that he loved her, because right then, all he wanted to do was shout it out.
Because damn it, he somehow fell in love with her without even noticing any of it, and somehow, she actually wanted to be with him. That was pretty damn amazing.
Lucy lazily lifted her arm to flick the lever on the side of the toilet to flush it, and a quiet groan escaped her lips as she slumped back against the cool tiled wall. She was too damn hot right then, even though she was only wearing a thin dress, and if she could have, she probably would have stuffed herself into the freezer drawer just so she could cool off a little bit.
But of course, even if she had been able to fit, she couldn't have done so anyway, because by the time Lucy had put Ingrid to bed and gone about her usual bedtime routine, she'd been spending way too much time with her head over the toilet bowl and emptying the contents of her stomach.
By that point of the night, being just a little past eight, she was convinced there was nothing left to throw up. At all. Like, she could literally feel herself being done and empty. Of course, that nagging feeling of nausea that was almost constantly upon her those days never quite left, and on that day, it was more disappointing and depressing than usual.
She'd woken up that day, feeling somewhat more energised than usual, and she didn't feel half as sick. But by midday, her energy levels had dropped severely and she'd even had to squeeze in a quick nap while Ingrid had one of her own. As the day went on, though, she felt progressively worse and worse, and her day had instantly been ruined after she'd rushed off to the closest sink or toilet in the entire apartment, just so she could avoid vomiting all over the floors she'd just vacuumed.
Lucy had been so happy that morning, because she thought that maybe, just maybe, she was going to get a reprieve from the 'morning' sickness that hadn't left her alone since that first day she'd started to feel a little ill. Just a few days; that's all Lucy wanted. Just a few days where she felt like a somewhat decent human being and that her body wasn't currently out to get her or something. Or even just one day. Just one day would be enough for her.
But nope, her body was really out to get her, and was apparently doing its best to make her hate being pregnant, even though she was only on the seventh week and third day of being so. And yes, she'd started counting. It wasn't like it was accurate, though, because it was all just an estimation – conception, age, due date. They were all rough estimates. But after her appointment on the Friday and she'd been given a range, she felt that wasn't enough. She wanted to enjoy it all (even though she really was not enjoying a certain aspect of it), and in her mind, that meant counting the days. So the Sunday following the appointment had been deemed seven weeks, just because it fell right in the middle of the two dates and ages she'd been given.
So there she was on a Wednesday night, seven weeks and three days pregnant, sitting on the bathroom floor with her head backed into the wall as she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't even care that Bickslow hadn't come home earlier, and even if she had the ability to care, she didn't think she would. She told herself that he'd probably just gone out with his friends or something, and that was fine. He had his own life outside of her and Ingrid.
It was all fine.
Besides, she didn't think she'd be very fun to hang around when at that point, she didn't even have the energy to get up by herself. It didn't help that the wall was cooling her down. Slowly.
"Luce, sorry I didn't come home sooner."
She inwardly groaned as Bickslow's voice drifted down the hall and through the open door.
He frowned as he dropped his house keys to the table by the door, locking it behind him. Usually at that time of night, she was on the lounge and watching some random T.V. show or movie, or reading a book, but when he did a quick once-over of the living area, he realised that she was probably sitting up in bed with a book or something. She'd been doing that more often since she'd been going to be earlier.
So he made his way down the hall, loosening his tie and untucking his shirt as he went. When he walked past the door to the bathroom in the hall and saw that the light was on, he habitually turned his head to look inside, and when he saw the blonde sitting in a heap with the faintest of smiles, he instantly rushed in and crouched down in front of her.
"Shit, you okay?" he asked, a hand reaching out to gently push back the damp hair that stuck to her face. Her skin was clammy and she was slightly panting – something he'd seen more than once in the last couple of weeks.
"Just peachy," she breathed. When Bickslow shook his head lightly, she let out the faintest of laughs. "Help me up?"
As Bickslow's brow furrowed, he slowly pulled her to her feet. He looked down in concern when she wobbled slightly, and when she pulled away to steady herself against the wall and turn to face the shower in one corner, he asked, "Are you even going to be able to stay on your feet?"
"I'll be fine," she said as Bickslow finally let go of her and she could slide open the glass door and turn the water on in the shower.
So with a shrug, Bickslow turned and headed back for the hall and closed the door behind him, leaving her to shower in peace. To that day, it still amazed him how she could still be happy, even though she was quite clearly exhausted and probably feeling disgusting.
Hell, maybe it was because she was finally enjoying being pregnant to the fullest instead of being so worried about losing it?
Bickslow hoped that's what it was.
"So how was your day?" Lucy whispered, the corner of her lips pulling up into a soft smile as she watched Bickslow climb into the bed through heavy eyes. She was absolutely exhausted, and she would have gone straight to bed after she'd had a shower to cool herself down slightly and make her feel a little more human again, had she not forced herself to have something light for dinner, just so she wasn't going to bed on an empty stomach. So far, her dinner of toast and a hell of a lot of water (she'd learnt her lesson when it came to dehydration) had decided to stay down, and she hoped it stayed that way.
Bickslow turned to switch off the lamp on the nightstand, leaving the room in almost complete darkness before he rolled back onto his stomach and was facing Lucy. "Not bad," he mumbled into the pillow, getting himself comfortable and ready to drift off to sleep shortly, once their own night time ritual of talking about their days in bed while half asleep had been completed. He had to admit that he looked forward to it, though. It was nice – relaxing – and it was a great way to unwind for the night. "Laughed at Ever, ignored Laxus, pretended to be thankful for weird gifts, did my job, and then drank alone in my office. Pretty great day. How was yours?"
Shit. Looks like the alcohol had actually hit him more than he'd anticipated. He hadn't really drunk that much…Only a few glasses. Or something like that.
He didn't count, to be honest. He'd been too busy being miserable and then internally yelling at himself, and he'd come to realise that it was entirely because of the alcohol.
Ah, what a wonderful thing alcohol is.
"Pretty boring, honestly, but why were you ignoring Laxus?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as best she could before she finally stopped trying to keep her eyes open to look at the dark outline of Bickslow in front of her, and close them. As soon as she'd done so, she felt sleep all that much closer. "And why were you drinking in your office alone?"
"We had an argument… of sorts… And because I needed to think about some things."
She sighed then as she shifted ever so slightly in an attempt to make herself more comfortable. "Alright then," she mumbled. Then, as a small smile tugged at her mouth again, she whispered, "You know, I was going to get you something for your birthday…"
"You didn't need to."
"I know, and that's why I didn't."
"Good," he whispered with his own small smile that no one would be able to see in the dark.
But then, after a moment of silence where the only noise in the room was from the occasional shifting of blankets or pillows as they both found themselves getting pulled deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, Lucy whispered right before she finally crossed that threshold, "I realised I didn't need to get you anything because I'm already giving you a baby."
And so as Lucy drifted off to sleep first, Bickslow's last thoughts before he followed were all of that same blonde. She was giving him a baby – his baby – and for that, she'd never need to get him an actual gift or anything for the rest of her life. For as long as he lived, it would be enough. Ingrid, the baby, and Lucy would be enough and they'd outdo any gift anyone could ever give him, no matter how extravagant or expensive it is.
Because he was slowly coming to see that a family is priceless, and it was always going to be the thing he held most dear in his life, and Lucy, Ingrid, and the baby were his family.
So soon, everyone in the house was peacefully asleep – Ingrid was still sleeping through the night (most of the time), Bickslow was out like a light and would be until morning, and Lucy was quietly turning in her sleep. Everyone was happy and peaceful and relaxed and everything was quiet.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that anyone woke up, and as usual it was Lucy, except this time, it was earlier than usual. But it wasn't all that surprising, because as she slowly got her bearings, she became aware of the reason she'd woken up in the first place, and that was because she really needed to pee.
Damn baby, she cursed herself. Needing to pee more often was beginning to get inconvenient, just like needing to throw up more than once a day was.
Except, the more she woke up, the more she realised something was wrong, and as the seconds seemed to slow down, she found herself beginning to panic as she lazily reached out in the dark to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. Her mind instantly jumped to every single horrible conclusion it could come up with as she noticed the wet feeling between her legs – one that was simultaneously familiar and frightening.
And that was when the panic and horror really struck her, and when she kicked the covers back and looked down at her legs and her usual pyjama bottoms, she felt her heart begin to race and her hands began to shake as she scrambled to sit up in the bed.
"No, no, no, no, no…" she said, starting out as a whisper and getting louder with each one as she looked down at the red stain on the white sheets right beneath where she'd been laying, and the ones that covered the crotch of her shorts, no doubt the back, and the insides of her thighs.
It was every woman's worst nightmare, and right then, Lucy felt like she really was in a nightmare, yet she knew it was real. It was why she hadn't wanted to get attached to the baby and get too happy about the idea of having one and being pregnant, and it was because of what she was scared was happening right then.
"Bicks, please…" she whispered, a hand idly reaching out to shove at his shoulder or arm or something – she wasn't looking because she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sheets. "Get up, please," she pleaded, a little louder.
She needed Bickslow to get up to take her to the hospital, and she needed Bickslow to get up and tell her that everything was going to be fine and that she wasn't losing the baby like she'd dreaded.
She needed everything to be fine.