A/N: I'm sure everyone is getting sick of me. All I do anymore is write fanfiction. I mean, this is my third..fourth(?) story this week. But, guess what. This is actually fluff, complete fluff. Little to no angst. Written completely at random as I was sitting here. But, if you are truly sick of me, then tell me and I will refrain from submitting so many stories. Otherwise, I will continue to write story upon story. A side note: Does anyone else find themselves wishing there were a reply option for reviews? Like on livejournal. It would make things so much better, I think.

The morning sickness is awful for both of them. He can't stand throw up, especially watching someone do it. So, she locks herself in the bathroom and he waits outside, listening to the awful noises she makes. He moves away from the door, feeling sick himself. Then, he hears the click of the lock.

"Ror. You done?" He calls hesitantly through the wood, pressing his ear against the door.

"Yeah." She calls and he opens the door, still hesitant. When he sees, that she is standing at the sink in her bath robe, brushing her teeth, he actually enters the room.

He walks up behind her, arms going around her waist. "Week number six."

She turns to him, smiling. "That means what…only thirty-four more?"

"Something like that." He kisses her, thankful she has just brushed her teeth.

She looks at him seriously. "Hey." He raises his eyebrows. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"Good," he says, kissing her again. "I, on the other hand, am still terrified."

She laughs and ducks under his left arm, leaving the bathroom. When she's gone, he stares at the mirror. He's too young for this, is what he's thinking. He has accomplished nothing in his life, save getting her pregnant. He wants to do more. She wants him to do more, but suddenly he feels stifled. He feel stuck here. It's not that he minds being stuck here. It's that now there is no option. He doesn't like not having the option of leaving. He grits his teeth and watches his jaw tighten in the mirror. He shouldn't be thinking these things. He's happy. For once, he's perfectly happy. He's in love. He's going to be a father. He's got some semblance of family.

She interrupts his thoughts when she puts a slow country song on the stereo. It makes him smile, because she only plays this sort of thing when she's especially enamored with him. He forgets everything he was thinking and joins her in the living room.

She's lying on the hardwood floor next to the speakers, staring at the ceiling with her hands on her stomach. He lays down next to her. She sings along and he feels warm. It's soft and off key, but it's beautiful. She stops singing and turns her head towards him. "You're not…I mean, you don't regret this, do you? I mean, of course, it wasn't planned and everything…"

He doesn't answer her. He opens up her robe and puts his hand on her bare stomach. It's too early to feel anything, but for a second he swears he feels movement inside of her. He looks up at her, "I don't regret it at all." He pauses. "It's weird. That's us in there."

She kisses his temple gently, trying not to cry. "Yeah…Us." And then she is crying. "Sorry…" She says through her tears.

He smiles at her softly. "Don't be. I should get used to this sort of thing."

She laughs slightly, looking down. "Yeah. I guess so."

He lifts her chin up lightly. "Hey. I'm not going to leave." He doesn't know why he assumes this is what she's thinking, but it stops her crying.

"I know." She kisses him furiously, her sadness turning to passion. She does it because when she's kissing him, he feels real and he truly won't leave.

It is in between kisses and mostly into her mouth that he says, "I'm in love with you." And she thinks she can taste his words on her tongue. She swallows them completely, kissing him harder.

He moves on top of her. She wants to feel his weight against her, but he's holding himself away from her. She tries to pull him down against her, but he won't budge. He removes his mouth from hers, "I don't want to…you know, hurt it."

"You won't." Her voice sounds urgent and this time when she pulls him down, he doesn't resist and he's crushing against her. The way she likes it. The way he was when they were teenagers, pressing against her firmly, letting his hands roam free.

He stops. "It's almost nine," he says, looking at his watch. "I'm not even dressed."

She groans and tries to kiss him again. "Call in sick. Tell them you're caring for your pregnant girlfriend." She pouts. "Please?"

The world "girlfriend" sparks something in his head. "How come you haven't brought up marriage yet?" To her, this question is coming from nowhere.

"I…Uh, I don't know. I just assumed…"

"That I wouldn't want that."

She nods. "Yeah. I guess. I mean, we're so young…"

"But, you're pregnant. We're having a child."

"Are you saying that you want to get married?"

He rests his head against the floor and purses his lips in thought. There is a long pause before he says, "If you wanted to…"

She props herself up on her elbow and gives him a pointed look. "Is this seriously how your proposal is going?"

Once again, he pauses, silent and unmoving. He slowly shakes his head. Then, he's kissing her. Short but eager kisses on the mouth. "Marry me." He says it over and over as he kisses her.

"Okay." She's laughing as his mouth moves to her neck. Then, he is suddenly standing. "Where are you going? You can't go to work now…"

He grins at her, walking towards the bedroom to get dressed, calling over his shoulder, "You're right. I've got a ring to buy!"

He leaves her on the floor, smiling to herself. She looks down at her stomach once more and whispers to herself, "Us."