Title: This Things About Birthdays

Author: Andrea

Rating: Yeah, still R

Summary: Well, it's not *Abby's* birthday anymore.

Author's Note: After a long, drawn out absence -- a triumphant return. Or something like that. Anyway, this one is for Kelly-who-loves-a-shout-out as a thank you for all her suggestions that found a way into this chapter. Not to mention all her nagging. Thanks, Poops. And thanks, Cath for the editing. So those two already gave me their reviews, now it's everybody else's turn.

This Thing About Birthdays

Part II

Chapter 9: Walking After Midnight

"Why does the baby hate me?"

"Abby, the baby doesn't hate you."

"Clearly, it does."

I try to muster up some patience. "Abby, trust me, the baby doesn't hate you."

"Well, if it doesn't hate me, why won't it come out?" Her voice gets fairly loud by the end of that sentence and it's all I can do to not to shush her. After all, we are walking the streets of our nice, quiet neighborhood late at night.

"Hmm …" I say, feigning thoughtfulness. "Maybe … because it's not even due for three more days."

Abby reaches over and picks up my wrist, turning it so she can peer at my watch under the moonlight. "Two more days. It's after midnight."

"Okay, two days. But still … technically, it's got two more days to cook up in there. So I don't think it's fair to assume that it's showing its hatred for you by not coming out on time."

"Hmph. Well, I wish it would come out already. Today would be good."

"You're ready, huh?"

"That's kinda the point of this late night stroll, isn't it? To try and get this show on the road. I mean, my God, if this kid drops any lower, it's gonna have to hang on by its toenails to stay in there. Not to mention that I've been two centimeters dilated forever."

"Since last Tuesday."

"Yeah. Like I said, forever. And I've quite obviously been pregnant since the beginning of time. I have to say, the whole thing is getting kinda old."

"I'm sorry." I tell her. And I mean it. Not that I think it's my fault, exactly. I just feel bad that she has to go through all this. And I get off relatively unscathed.

"Huh. You should be." She looks as if she might be gearing up for a true tirade on the myriad of ways that I suck for having gotten her into this whole pregnancy mess in the first place. But before she can get into it, her hands fly to rounded belly. I reach my hand out and she grabs on.

"You wanna sit down?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Do you want to at least stop until it's over?" Another shake of her head. So we shuffle along slowly, waiting for the contraction to pass. She blows out a breath when the pain is over. But she continues to hold my hand, her frustration with me apparently having passed.

We continue along at our regular pace, walking toward home, each of us thinking our own thoughts. She's probably thinking about how much she wants to not be pregnant anymore. And I'm thinking that I'm gonna kind of miss it. Although Abby claimed, just yesterday morning, that she's a whale, I think she looks absolutely adorable. And all I have to do is catch a glimpse of her round belly to be reminded of this miracle that we are lucky enough to be a part of. And while the mood swings aren't always a whole lot of fun, Abby's been great, really. She rarely complains if she's not in the grips of a really dark mood or at the end of another exhausting day of growing a baby. Mostly, she's been a real trooper, enduring most of the discomfort without a complaint. And for every bad mood she's been in, there have been at least as many good moods where she's been happy and sweet. She's changing with this pregnancy. She's happier and more optimistic. There's something good for her to hang on to these days. She's even been somewhat vulnerable these past couple of months. She's actually been letting herself lean on me more. It's kinda nice to know that she really does need me. And watching her softer side, her maternal side come shining through has been a lot of fun. Watching her fuss over every last detail in the nursery has been a surprise. But I don't care how many bills she wracks up in the name of nesting.

"I want it out." She says in calm voice before looking down at her belly and practically shrieking, "Dammit, get out!" Yes, those maternal instincts are really shining brightly right now.

"You keep that up, Abby, and the kid is gonna come out thinking its name is 'Dammit.'" She just looks at me. "Dammit Carter … it has a nice ring." I just get another look. She doesn't even crack a smile. I sigh. "Okay, Ab. I give up. You wanna go get induced?" She perks up at this suggestion. "Or better yet, I can just go swipe some Pitocin and we can do it at home on our own." For this I'm rewarded with a smack on the arm.

"That's not funny. Don't tease me like that. You don't know what it's like. I just want my body back. I'm so tired. But I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can pee though, I'm really good at that. But besides that, all I do is sit and stare at the TV all day."

I pull her over toward me, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. She leans her head against me and lets me propel her toward home. "You did something today. All afternoon you were cleaning like a fireball. The nursery is all ready to go now. The carpet's been vacuumed five hundred times, the crib has been dusted yet again, the clothes have all been laundered and pressed, the blankets have been washed enough to be threadbare …"

"Shut up! Don't make fun of me. I can't help it. I just need for everything to be just right when the baby comes home." She tried to pull away but I hold on tight, and she gives up the fight pretty easily.

"I know. And it will be." I kiss the top of her head. "But sweetie, don't you know what babies are like? All those little outfits and coordinating receiving blankets that you've fussed over so much are just gonna get pooped on." Another thing that's been fun to watch. Abby carefully washing and folding all the tiny clothing, matching up the tiny socks and onesies with the coordinating outfits. And packing the diaper bags for the hospital was quite the ordeal. Trying to find just the right baby boy outfit and just the right baby girl outfit for pictures and the homecoming. Abby? Worry over that kind of thing? Very strange. But very cute. There's a girl in there somewhere after all.

"I know, but … I want it all to start off perfect, anyway. Even if it doesn't last."

I don't have an answer for that, so I just smile and kiss the top of her head as we round the corner and find ourselves back at home. I open the gate to the courtyard and usher Abby in. As soon as we get in the front door, she crosses the foyer to the stairs. I follow her up with my hand on the small of her back. Not that she needs my help, but I feel better keeping the contact.

She turns down the hall and heads toward our bedroom at the back of the house. Even in her exhausted state, she stops in the doorway of the room right next to ours. She flips on the light and looks around the room, checking to make sure that everything is just right.

Sure enough, everything is just right in our perfect nursery. The walls are a bright, cheery, sunshiny yellow; perfect since we don't know whether the baby is a boy or a girl. We chose bright white furniture to match the white trim in the room, and now the crib and changing table, dresser and rocker stand waiting to be used. All that's waiting to be done is the addition of the accessories in the appropriate color. We couldn't find a gender-neutral crib set that we agreed on, but we did find two gender-specific ones that we both loved. Both very similar in style, looking like patchwork quilts. But one is all flowers and stripes in pinks and greens and yellows and the other is stars and stripes in blues and greens and yellows. It'll be my job to make up the crib and hang up the curtains in the right color before Abby brings our son or daughter home from the hospital.

Abby has already spent hours in here getting everything else ready. Just this afternoon, she was folding and refolding the blankets and burp clothes that are stacked up on the changing table. She opened up a package of impossibly small newborn diapers and piled them up on the changing table as well. The wipe warmer is waiting to be plugged in. The pacifiers have all been sterilized. And so have the bottles, if we should need them. The tiny undershirts and socks and sleepers and gowns are all stacked in the dresser drawers, while the fancier outfits hang in the closet. The bookcase and shelves hold toys and pictures and books. Baskets of baby essentials like powder, lotion, and shampoo are under the sink in the bathroom next to the sets of hooded towels and wash clothes. The baby bathtub is ready to go. Everything is ready to go. All we need now is the baby.

"Ugh." Abby says. I know she thinks we need the baby now, too. Or rather, she thinks we need the baby yesterday.

"What?"

"Something's not right."

"What? What do you mean?" I ask worriedly. Thinking she means with herself or the baby.

"This nursery. It looks … unfinished." I'm relieved that it's just the nursery that she's worried about.

"Well, you know, it sort of is. I mean, since we have to wait to put up the stuff that's gonna be either blue or pink, we have a bare crib and a plain changing table and unadorned windows. Once we get all the accessories out, it'll be …"

"Perfect?"

"Yeah."

"I hope so." She says. "I mean, I know it doesn't really matter and that the baby could sleep in a cardboard box. And it will probably spend most of its time in the bassinet in our room at first, anyway. But still, this feels important. I just really need to make this room special. I know it's stupid, but ..."

"No, it's not. It's normal. You're nesting. Trying to make things right for your little baby bird." I reach over and pat her belly.

"I hate these yellow walls." She says out of nowhere, still peering in at the room.

"But I thought you said you loved the color."

"The color is fine … but they're so … plain."

"Abby, we talked about this, remember?" She's nine months pregnant, she's nine months pregnant, I remind myself. "You were the one who didn't want wallpaper or fancy paint treatments. So we got the wall hangings and pictures instead."

"Maggie offered to paint the walls, maybe I should take her up on it."

"Paint what on the walls?"

"I don't know. Butterflies or some shit like that." She waves her hand above her head dismissively and then turns on her heel toward our room, apparently disgusted by the state of the nursery.

"Abby, you just said 'shit' in front of the baby." I admonish her as she sinks heavily on to the bed.

"Well, so did you." She says, lifting one foot in the air so that I can take off her shoe and sock.

"Yeah, but … wait, butterflies? I'm not sure I want my son sleeping in a room full of butterflies."

"Since when do you think it's a boy?" She asks, giving me her other foot.

"Well, you know … just in case. I don't know if that seems … right."

"How incredibly sexist of you. Our little girl can sleep in a room with butterflies because little girls are all sweetness and light? I suppose you'll expect her to wear a tutu and only play with dolls, huh?"

"Abby, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?" There's a challenge in her voice.

"Just that … butterflies don't seem right for a little boy. That's the kind of thing that gets you called a sissy on the playground."

"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" What's that supposed to mean? Is she calling me a sissy? "That's pretty funny, though, coming from a guy who suggested naming our son Rudyard. Or Aloysius. Or Bernard."

"What's wrong with Bernard?"

"Oh, you can't be serious. You wanna talk about getting beat up on the playground … try going to kindergarten with a name like Bernie."

"Being named Bernie is better than having a bedroom covered in butterflies."

"But butterflies are okay for our little girl?"

"Sure. Because she'll be my little butterfly. Just like her mom."

"I thought I was the tornado."

"Well … you are. But that's a lot harder to paint on a wall."

She rolls her eyes, but smiles at me. Holds out her arms so that I can take her hands and help her up.

"I'm going to take a shower. My back is killing me." She says, her hands bracing her lower back as she moves heavily toward the bathroom. She would claim she is waddling. I think nothing could be farther from the truth. She looks amazing for being just weeks or days, maybe even hours, away from having a baby.

I hear the shower go on and there are no plaintive cries for help, so I figure she must be doing okay getting undressed the rest of the way. Usually, as long as her feet aren't involved, she does just fine on her own. Except for an incident with some stubborn stretch pants a few days ago. That whole debacle had us both in tears -- her from frustration and me from trying to hold in the laughter. Not that I didn't feel for her, I did. But still it was kinda funny, Abby yelling for me to come upstairs and take off her pants. Not that I was totally adverse to the idea. Of course once I got her pants off, all she wanted to do was put on her nightshirt and go to bed. Oh well, I know how tired she is these days. I can't exactly expect her to be interested in sex at the moment. Still, sometimes it's difficult. Especially knowing that once the baby arrives, we'll have several more weeks to wait. Not to mention a screaming baby that's gonna require much of Abby's attention and energy. But things will get back to normal someday. Twenty, thirty years from now when I'm almost too old to care.

I heave a sigh and head downstairs, figuring that maybe I should get Abby a little snack. Unfortunately when I open the freezer, I find that we are out of ice cream. Now this could be a real problem. I'm falling down on the job, letting the supply disappear like this. I should go and get some. Then again, she hasn't asked for it yet and this could be one of those pizza nights instead. I wonder if we have anything else good around here. Some sort of reasonable substitute for ice cream. I search through the cabinets and find a box of instant pudding. That's close. They're both cold and soft. You eat them both with a spoon. They both taste like chocolate. I mix up the pudding and put it in the fridge, then putter around the kitchen straightening up while the pudding sets. As soon as it's ready, I head back up stairs, two spoons and a big bowl of pudding in my hands. Going to meet Abby in the bedroom with a bowl full of pudding. I grin thinking about what this would usually mean. Not tonight. But that's okay. I just hope the pudding makes up for the lack of ice cream.

I turn into our bedroom and what I see stops me cold. I manage to put the pudding down on the dresser without spilling it before I rush across the room to Abby's side. She's down on the floor on her hands and knees. Completely naked. Normally, a sight like this would be an immediate turn on for me. Now all it means to me is fear.

"Abby? What is it?" She turns her head slowly and gives me a dark look.

"It's a baby. Reclining right on the base of my spine."

"But you're okay."

"Yeah."

"Why are you naked?"

"I just got out of the shower. Is there some law against being naked?"

"No … it's just kinda … dangerous." To my sanity, anyway.

"What?"

"Nothing. So why are you on the floor?"

"I just thought if let my belly hang, maybe the pressure would be off my back for a minute. It's been flaring up all day and it's getting worse. It just hurts." She sounds very near tears as she says this.

"Where? Here?" I ask as I move my hands to the small of her back and begin massaging, applying a good amount of pressure. "Does this help?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Oh, why won't it come out already? God, I've tried everything. We've walked miles. I drank castor oil. I drank orange juice and baking soda. I've been rubbing my nipples all day."

"What?" I give her a quizzical look.

"Nipple stimulation. It's supposed to be good for getting labor started."

"Oh, that's right. I could help you out with that, if you want." I slide my hand from the small of her back around to her belly, and up over the baby bulge. I gently cradle her swollen breast in my hand and then begin rubbing lightly.

"Mmm. Why does it feel so much better when you do it?" She asks. She's arched her back slightly and seems to be enjoying this. And here I was afraid that she would swat my hand away.

"Because I've got magic hands."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh-huh." I move my hand up along her back and push her hair off to the side before leaning down to kiss her neck. "You know what else is supposed to be good for starting labor?"

"Hmm, what would that be, Dr. Carter?"

"Sex."

"You don't say. Well, I guess if it's what I have to do to get this baby out of me …"

"Well, that would be ironic, wouldn't it?"

"I believe you were saying something about 'magic hands?' Would you care to prove that?"

"Come on." I say, moving away from her as I sit back on my heels and hold out my hand. "Let me help you to bed."

"What's wrong with right here?" Our eyes lock for a minute. And she then she raises her eyebrows to me as a grin spreads across her face. Well, if that's how she feels about it … I quickly shed my clothes and move around behind her.

"Like this?" I ask.

"Do you have a better idea with this belly?"

"If it works for you …" I say, running my hands over her widened hips and round butt. Normally, we'd spend more time on foreplay, but I don't think that's in the cards tonight. Lord knows, I don't really need it with the state that I'm already in just from being so close to a very naked Abby.

As for Abby, I think that tonight is one time she may be interested in just getting right to it. I know that for her this is a means to an end, I just hope she'll enjoy the process, too. Maybe not as much as usual, considering her advanced state of pregnancy and the fact that pregnant orgasms can be rather hard to come by. Although Abby assures me that they are worth the wait. And one of those elusive things would probably be good tonight as it would encourage the contracting of the uterus that Abby's anxiously awaiting. Not to mention that it might relax her enough to let her get some sleep. One way or the other, I hope this works because I know how ready Abby is to have this baby.

"Don't take all night, Carter. My arms are going to get tired. Besides, nipple stimulation is supposed to be good for bringing on labor, I've never heard anything about butt cheek stimulation."

Okay, so I got a little lost. Sue me. It's been a while since I've had a chance to admire this view. "Well, Ab … if nipple stimulation is what is takes … It's a tough job, but I guess someone has to do it."

I can just imagine the eye roll that must have inspired. But hopefully her expression is changing now as lean forward, running my hands up her back and then around her side, finding her breasts. I cup them gently in my palms before beginning to rub in tight circles. Thanks to the pregnancy, her nipples are much more pronounced and much more sensitive. I pinch lightly and she moans deeply. Her back arches and her hips push back against mine, wriggling a bit and encouraging me to move things right along.

I lean down to kiss her neck and then move my lips over to her ear where I nibble slightly and then whisper, "You ready?"

She nods in response. I carefully move one hand off her breast and slide it over her back and then in to the warmth between her legs. Testing the waters, so to speak. At my touch she shudders and sighs, showing me that, indeed, she is ready. As am I. More than ready. I think I've been on standby for days now.

I move into the proper position behind her, and slip inside of her easily, moving slowly. After all, I'm not exactly sure what's going on in there, and I don't want to hurt her. I find a nice gentle rhythm that I think will suit us both. But suddenly Abby is pushing back against me, begging for more. I respond with more forceful thrusts. She gasps, and I freeze.

"What?" she pants, looking over her shoulder at me through heavily lidded eyes.

"I thought I hurt you."

"No, that was a good moan."

"Okay. Good." I move my hands to her hips and hold them in place as I begin slow strokes once again. Abby sighs and moans as I run my hands up her supple back and around to her chest. I caress her swollen breasts once again which seems to intensify her moans. Leaning over, I kiss her back, her shoulder, her neck. As our rhythm gets faster and faster, I let one hand travel over the bulge of her belly and in between her legs. Another gasp. And then her whole body stiffens. Wow. Already? That was fast. Maybe not so elusive after all tonight.

"John!"

"Oh, Abby …" I moan. I hadn't intended for it be this quick, but it really wouldn't take much to encourage my release, considering how long it's been.

"No, John. Stop!"

"What's wrong?" I ask, stopping all movement.

"Contraction." She gasps, out of breath, either from our activities or the pain of the contraction.

"A big one?" I ask, pulling out and rearranging my hands on her body. I rub her swollen belly, hoping to ease the discomfort.

She nods in response. Nods emphatically, in fact.

"Like, the real thing?" Her breathing is measured and even, her eyes closed. But after a moment, she seems to relax.

"No, I thought so at first." She looks over at me and smiles. "I was pretty impressed because I thought you really worked fast. But it was just more Braxton-Hicks, I think."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You should be. This is all your fault." She's smiling, so I laugh, knowing that she doesn't really mean it.

"So?" I ask her. Since I'm still incredibly aroused, I'd like to get back to our former activity, but maybe she won't want to now.

"Can you help me up?"

"You wanna move to the bed?"

"I have to pee."

I stifle a groan of frustration as I watch her walk off to the bathroom. I can't seem to take my eyes off of her. Which really isn't helping me in my current state. I climb into bed and concentrate on thinking thoughts that are not erotic. Baseball, the old standard, doesn't really work. It just makes me think of how cute Abby looks in a baseball cap. How cute she would look in a baseball cap and nothing else.

"Argh." I let out that groan of frustration and punch a pillow a few times. That also doesn't help much.

And then Abby reappears. She wanders across the room while I stare, transfixed at her naked form. When she gets to the dresser, she finds the bowl of pudding, forgotten in all the … um, excitement. She dips in a finger and then brings it up to her lips, licking at the chocolate. Oh, she's killing me. Absolutely killing me.

"Abby …" It comes out as a moan, the complaint behind it quite obvious.

"Sorry," she says, giggling.

"You could bring that over here, you know."

"Why? What were you planning to do with it?"

"Eat it?" I ask.

She laughs. "I take it you mean the pudding."

"Uh … yeah."

"I think the pudding can wait until later."

"Oh yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah." She comes over and climbs into the bed. "So … where were we?"

"You still want to?"

"Absolutely. After all, we didn't get to finish." She runs her hand down my chest, over my stomach and then down even further so that she can grasp my erection. "I wouldn't want to leave you in this state. Besides, I need your semen."

"I think you already got it a while ago. That's the reason for this, " I laugh, poking her rounded stomach.

"That's not what I mean." She's still lightly stroking me and driving me wild. "It's some protein or something in the semen that encourages the cervix to thin out and dilate."

"Oh, so is that the only reason you want me? It's all about just getting that baby out, huh?"

"Well, I think it's the least you can do since you are the one that got the baby in there." She turns her head and kisses me on the lips. Lightly at first and then with growing passion. "No, it's not the only reason I want you. I'm just glad you still want me. I wouldn't blame you if you weren't interested. "

"I always want you, Abby."

She lets go of me and turns over, resuming her former hands-and-knees position. "Then take me."

Oh, I'd be glad to. I get up on my knees and quickly mount her from behind. My hands wander over her butt and her back. And then I remember about the nipple stimulation and move on to her breasts. Kneading, rubbing, pinching. I'm pushing into her with a steady rhythm and her hips are moving back to meet each thrust. We're both grunting and moaning as the pace increases. I feel her inner muscles tight around me as she squirms against my hips. I'm not going to last much longer.

"Abby, I'm getting close."

"Me too, baby. Me too." Time to help her along a bit. I slip my hand back in between her legs. My fingers slip between her warm, moist folds and find her magic nub. Soft feathery touches and then much more forceful strokes soon have her writhing against my hand.

"Oh … oh … John … yes … yes!" She screams as the orgasm takes over her body. The spasms in her body are all it takes to pull me right over the edge too.

"Abby!" I call out as I explode inside her. Several smalls jerks and involuntary muscle spasms later, I wrap my arms around her tight and roll us over as one unit, on to our sides. We lie spooned together like that, catching our breath.

"Oh, Abby … that was …"

"Incredible."

"Yeah. Thank you." I kiss her shoulder and sense the smile on her face.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it while you could."

"Yeah, if it worked, and you go into labor, it'll be a while until the next time." I acknowledge.

She turns over in my arms, lying on her back and looking up at me. "If it worked, this will be the last time … I mean, next time it'll all be different."

"Different? What do you mean?"

"Well, besides having a baby in the house making things a lot more complicated …" She trails off and looks up at me, biting on her lip. Something is making her nervous.

"What?"

"Well, I'll be different." I must give her a blank look because she explains further. "You know, having a baby changes things. I might not be as … uh … toned, so to speak. Not to mention that fact that I'll be lactating."

"It doesn't matter, Abby. You'll still be you. And the sex will still be incredible. Slightly more hurried and maybe not as spontaneous, but still incredible."

"I hope so. I don't want you to be disappointed with me."

"Don't worry about it, babe. I could never be disappointed with you." I lean down and kiss her gently. Then I pull my lips away from hers and plant a trail of kisses over her chin, down her neck, down her chest and to her breasts. I figure I better enjoy these while I can, too. Soon enough they'll be property of the baby, and I don't know how Abby will feel about sharing. I move my mouth over one of her nipples and begin suckling gently.

"What are you doing?"

"Nipple stimulation." I say looking up at her with a grin. "Just trying to help out anyway I can."

"Well, don't do anything you don't want to do."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't." I tell her, returning to the tasks at hand.

I feel her hand in my hair, smoothing it back softly. I caress her breasts gently with my mouth and my hand, trying to find a soothing, relaxing tempo. It must work because soon enough her hand slips from my head and I realize her chest is rising and falling in shallow even breaths. I pull away from her and look up to see her eyes closed and her face relaxed. I rearrange myself so that I'm lying next to her wit my arm draped casually over the baby. I can feel just the faintest kicks and thumps from the child within. In her sleep, Abby turns in my arms to lie with her belly to mine. I kiss her forehead and pat the baby, realizing that soon there will be three of us here in this bed. Abby and me … and our baby. A brand new little person that she has grown and nurtured inside her body for nine months, to whom she will soon give birth. I close my eyes thinking, yet again, how grateful I am to be a part of a such an amazing miracle..