Title: These Are The Days
Author : AbbyGirl3476
Rating: M
Spoilers: None. Unless you haven't seen season 12.
Author's Note: Thanks to MELANIE and LISA for the editing. You're better than chocolate. Hey, y'all, I know you want to review. You do. I know you do. And for those of you who already did, the comments are much appreciated … thanks.
These Are The Days
"These are the days now that we must savor … and we must enjoy as we can … these are the days that will last forever … you've got to hold them in your heart"
Chapter 3: A Kind of Magic
"How's everything going in there?" A voice calls through the dressing room curtain. I break away from a hot-and-heavy kiss, and try to catch my breath. When I don't answer right away, the salesgirl tries again. "Ma'am? How are those working out for you? Can I get you a different size?"
I yank Luka's hands out from under my sweater and push firmly on his shoulders, to no avail. "Get off me," I whisper fiercely, not wishing to be caught tangled up, rolling around on the floor. I'm forced to start swatting at his chest to finally get him to let me up. I pop up onto my feet, readjusting my disheveled clothing.
"Uh … fine. Just fine. Everything's fine," I call through the curtain.
"Can I get you any different sizes or anything?" Irritatingly insistent, I'll give her that.
"No, thanks," I say with yelp, as I feel my butt being cupped by a large, persistent hand. I look over my shoulder as I swat his hand away. Unfortunately, that only encourages him to put his hands on my hips and attempt to draw me back down to the floor. "Cut it out," I whisper, trying to pull out of his grasp. "Get up!" I gesture toward the flimsy curtain in exasperation, but he doesn't seem impressed.
"Excuse me? What was that?" This saleslady just won't give it up.
"Nothing, nothing. "
"You're sure everything's okay? You don't need anything?" Just for you to go away, I think to myself. And for Mr. Touchy-Feely here to keep his hands to himself. His arms are wrapped around me from behind, now, with his big hands resting on my belly, under my sweater. I pull them firmly away once again.
"I'm sure. I'm fine," I answer the overly-eager salesgirl, in what I hope is a friendly enough voice. "I don't need anything else. But thanks." I hear a sigh through the curtain and can almost see the look on the woman's face as she peers at the curtain, wishing she could see through it. I hold my breath -- and Luka's hands -- until I hear her walk away. When I'm fairly certain she's gone, I peek out the edge of the curtain to make sure she's not lurking.
"Is the coast clear?" Luka asks, before I can even close the curtain.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's gone."
"Good," he says, taking advantage of the distraction to catch me off guard and pull me onto his lap.
"Luka."
"Mm-hmm," is the only answer as he immediately attacks my neck.
"Stop that," I say firmly, pulling away from him. "What's with you ?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, all of a sudden, you're so … handsy," I say as one of the hands in question slips back under my sweater … again.
"I don't think there's any such word."
"You know what I mean. Really, what's gotten into you?"
"You." He pulls me to him. "It's not my fault that you're irresistible."
"Whatever," I say, not believing his bullshit. "I think that's just your pregnancy fetish talking."
"Pregnancy fetish?"
"Yeah. I mean, you were just telling me how beautiful you think pregnant women are. And lately, you've been all over me. Even here, in this dressing room of all places." I gesture around the tiny room, to prove my point that lately anywhere is fair game.
"Hey, you started this."
"I did not. I shushed you. You kissed me."
"And you are the one that's always all over me."
"Don't change the subject. And no, I'm not." He looks at me, confused. "No, I'm not always all over you."
"Oh, really."
"Well …" I smile sheepishly, feeling myself blush. Okay, so maybe he's got me on that one. Unburdened by morning sickness or any other truly unpleasant side effects of pregnancy, I find the only major change I have to contend with so far is my increased appetite -- for food … and other things. Not that I'm complaining. And I don't think Luka is either. We've both been perfectly happy to celebrate the existence of this baby by revisiting, again and again … and again, the act that got us this baby. And that's generally a good thing. But that doesn't mean I want to revisit how we made the baby in a baby store dressing room.
"Okay," I say, struggling free and standing up again, "That's enough. We have to stop." He's giving me a petulant look, clearly not agreeing with me. "That saleslady is gonna be back here any second. And besides, it's kinda creepy."
"What is?" He asks, seeming genuinely perplexed.
"You know. Making out in here." I bend over to pick up the stuffed elephant that's escaped from one of our bags to illustrate my next point. "Surrounded by squeaky toys and baby sleepers, with a nursery rhyme quilt hanging over us. It's like having sex in crib."
"We weren't exactly having sex," he points out.
"Fine. Like fooling around in a crib. It's still creepy. I mean, don't you think it's creepy? Of course, you do. Who wouldn't? Of course, people do some weird things, and we've seen them all in the ER. Except that would just be too weird, don't you think? And there wouldn't be enough room. Of course, if there's enough room in a bathtub … but there's gotta be a weight limit, right? And …"
"Abby."
"What?"
"Let me get this straight … you want to know what's wrong with me today?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, earlier you were babbling about how scary it would be if we were rats, and now you're rambling on about bizarre places people have sex."
"Well, I don't really think the bathtub is that bizarre."
"But a dressing room is."
"When it reminds me of a crib. Besides, no one's talking about having sex in a dressing room. Especially not this one with its thin curtain and nosy salespeople."
"So it's not dressing rooms in general that you're opposed to, just this one?"
"I never said that," I tell him with a laugh. "Still, nothing more is happening here. But I promise to make it up to you when we get home."
"Well, maybe I won't feel like it when we get home." He says haughtily as he gets to his feet.
"Oh, right."
"I might have a headache."
"Oh, you're such a tease." I give him a big grin. "Do I look okay? Is my hair messed up?"
"Well, yeah. But you've been trying on clothes."
"Right. Right, let's go with that. Okay, let's try to get out of here." I reach down to pick up our discarded coats, tossing him his. "Put that on," I instruct as I slip back into my coat.
"You think you're friend is gone by now?"
"She's not my friend. She's the hospital gossip. And it's bad enough we're already stuck permanently in the rumor mill, I don't need this to get out."
"It's gonna have to come out sooner or later, Abby."
"Later. Much later." I've been peering out the curtains again and don't see any sign of Debbie, or even any nosy sales staff. "Okay, let's go."
I slip out of the dressing room and walk quickly along one wall of the store, careful not to look around, just making a beeline for the door. It's not until Luka joins me on the sidewalk outside the store that I breathe again.
"Phew, we made it." I'm genuinely relieved.
"Well, thank God," he says, as sarcastically as possible. "No one saw us. We managed to escape with our lives," he adds, in over-dramatic B-movie fashion.
"Shut up." But I can't help but laugh as we start down the street.
"What?"
"You're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not."
"Sure, you are."
"Well ... I just don't get what the big deal is. Who cares if some woman who works in the pharmacy sees
us?"
"I told you, if she'd seen us, and all this baby stuff, she would have put two and two together. And then, she would have told everyone."
"Really? Some woman we don't even know, who may not even know us, is going to tell everyone?"
"I told you. Just because you don't who she is, does not mean that she doesn't know who you are. And believe me, she would be certain to tell someone else who works in the pharmacy, 'Oh my God, you'll never believe it, I saw that hunky Dr. Kovac from the ER buying out a baby store, and you'll never believe who was with him -- that bitchy ER resident, what's her name? Gabby? Abby?' … and then, before you know it, it's all over the hospital. And I think that just being back together has already earned us a permanent place in the hospital gossip column. We don't need to add more fuel to the fire."
"There's a gossip column? Is it in the newsletter?"
"No," I tell him, rolling my eyes.
"Is there a newsgroup? An e-mail list? Is it written on the ladies' room wall? Is someone going to read it over the PA system?"
I narrow my eyes at him and then turn on my heel and stride away.
"Hey, where are you going?" he calls after me.
"My baby and I aren't speaking to you anymore," I inform him haughtily over my shoulder.
"Your baby? This afternoon it was our baby." He catches up to me, falling in step beside me. He gives me a smile but I'm not ready to give in yet.
"Well, this afternoon I liked you."
"And you don't like me anymore?"
"I don't like you when you're being mean to me."
"How am I being mean?" He sounds truly confused.
"Well, you seem to think that I'm crazy because I want a little privacy."
"I never said you were crazy."
"You implied it. Just because I don't want the entire world to know our business. What's so crazy about that?"
"Abby, we snuck into a dressing room and hid there because you were afraid some virtual stranger would spread rumors about us."
"See, you do think I'm crazy." This draws an exasperated sigh from him.
"I don't think you're crazy. I just think you're going to an awful lot of trouble to delay the inevitable. People are going to find out. And so what? It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed. You think that's why I don't want people to know? It's not that. It's just … I don't know. It's still early, for one thing. Anything could happen. And that would be hard enough … without having to tell everyone.."
"Abby, nothing's gonna go wrong," he tries to reassure me, taking my hand.
"But it could. And I'd just rather wait until I feel more sure. But it's not just that. It's also … well, it's just such a major, life-changing event. And it's happening to us. No one else. It's private. And I want to keep it that way … as long as possible. This is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to share it yet. I just want it to be our little secret for awhile. Even if that means sneaking around baby stores and hiding out in dressing rooms. Okay?"
He looks at me for a moment, and then his gaze softens. "Okay. I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about it." I shake my head, indicating that it's all okay. "So? Are you speaking to me again?"
"Maybe. But I think maybe you need to make it up to me first."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"Buy me dinner?"
"Dinner? You want to eat again?"
"Luka. It's not like I've been eating all day."
He gives me an 'oh really?' look. "How many Poptarts did you have when we came home from work?"
"That was just my bedtime snack."
"But we barely went to bed before we were back up again, and you were eating waffles."
"That was a long time ago," I point out.
"But what about the popcorn? Before we could even get started with your shopping expedition, you made me stand in that ridiculous popcorn line, remember?"
"It was just a little caramel corn."
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot of caramel corn. But we shared."
"You gave me one handful. And after that you growled at me if I tried to take any more. And I stood in line … for an hour. While you were … where were you anyway?"
"I told you, I had to go to the bathroom."
"It doesn't take an hour to go to the bathroom," he points out, sounding a little righteous. Hey, when was the last time you were pregnant, buddy?
"Well, I can't just go into a place and use their bathroom and not buy anything."
"Sure you can. And what did you buy? You didn't come back with a bag." I just look at him, not wanting to answer. "Abby." A warning tone.
"So I had a little ice cream. So what?"
"You were sitting around eating ice cream while I was standing in that line for you?" He sounds a little mad, but he's still holding my hand.
"Did you expect me to stand in the line?"
"Well, you could have joined me."
"I'm pregnant," I tell him, sounding a little righteous myself. Has he forgotten? Those bulging bags of baby stuff ought to be a reminder to him.
"Yeah. And?" Isn't that enough?
"And … I had to go to the bathroom. And I was hungry."
"And tired? And queasy? Dizzy? Did your back hurt? Were your ankles swollen, too?"
"You're doing it again," I say, pulling my hand from his.
"I guess that means I have to buy you dinner, huh?" He asks with a smile.
"I suppose that'll be a start."
"So what's it gonna be?" He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, somewhat reluctantly.
"Guess."
"I wouldn't dare," he says.
"What was I talking about at work all night?"
"Um … how you weren't gonna eat that salad I brought for you?"
"Yeah, because it wasn't what I really wanted. Don't you remember what I wanted?"
"I don't know … that burger you made me get you from across the street?"
"No, that's just what I settled for. Not what I really wanted. You don't remember? Weren't you listening?"
"Uh … I don't know. Poptarts? Ice cream? Your weight in Oreos?" A give him the evil eye for that one.
"You better sleep with one eye open," I warn him.
"I'm kidding, I'm just kidding," he says, quickly. He flashes me a reproachful smile, and I decide to let him off the hook.
"I want pizza," I tell him, giving up on the idea of him remembering how I'd gone on and on about my craving for deep dish.
"Dessert pizza?"
"No. Regular, deep dish pizza."
"You're not gonna try to cover it in fudge sauce are you? Whipped cream? Syrup?"
"No. That's disgusting. I just want to cover it in pepperoni."
"Which is also disgusting."
"Since when don't you like pepperoni?" I ask him.
"I never said I didn't."
"And I'm the crazy one?"
"You're not crazy, Abby."
"But I might be if I don't get that pizza soon."
"Okay, okay. If you say you want to eat, I'll feed you."
"Now you're learning," I say with approval, leaning against him happily as we make our way down the street.
It doesn't take us long to find an appropriate pizza place where I can get my authentic Chicago style deep dish, but I can't say the same for getting a seat. After an hour, when my eyes start to glaze over, Luka, probably fearing that I'll take a bite out of his arm, goes to talk to, or maybe flirt with, the hostess. But his legendary charm must work because we immediately find ourselves seated in front of a huge basket of breadsticks. I'm dipping my third one in a little hot sauce when Luka finally gets tired of staring at me incredulously in silence.
"So …" he starts, "Do you really want to buy two of everything?"
I swallow hastily. "Well … maybe we won't have to. I didn't realize that there were so many portable things out there. It's not just strollers and playpens that fold up now. Everything does. Swings, bouncy seats, highchairs, bassinets, even bathtubs. You can just fold it and go. It's all so convenient. Like those pack'n';plays. They're a playpen, crib, bassinet, and changing table all in one. They even play music and have mobiles and storage compartments. Who knew? And that stroller with the carseat that just pops in and out. You don't even have to take the baby out. Well, eventually you have to take the baby out. Just not when you're out running errands. Unless you have to feed it or change it, I guess. But if he's sleeping, you don't have to wake him up. Pretty cool, huh?"
He's giving me that look again. The look that says he thinks I might be slightly deranged. "What?" I demand. He just shakes his head. "You think I'm babbling again?"
"No, I just didn't think you'd be this excited about strollers."
"You were the one who got all excited about the pink one."
"I wasn't excited. I just thought it was a nice change from all the black and navy blue."
"Uh-huh," I say as skeptically as possible, "So that's your story, huh?"
Just then, the pizza, a beautiful pile of gooey melted cheese and toppings that instantly makes my mouth water, is set down in front of us, and I abandoned my plan to tease Luka about his sudden attraction to all things pink and how it's making me a little suspicious that maybe he's secretly hoping for a girl. Not that I doubt for a moment that he'll be happy either way, I just wonder if deep down he has a preference. As for myself … well, like I told Luka earlier, I do think I might be better with a boy. Not that I exactly prefer a boy, but somehow it seems less intimidating. I think I might know what to do with a boy more than I would with a girl. But …
"Abby? Is something wrong?"
"No. Why?"
"You're not eating. I thought you were gonna rip the pizza right out of the waiter's hands, but now you're just staring at it. Is something wrong with it?"
"No. No, I was just … thinking."
"About baby furniture?"
"Not exactly."
"You never said if you still think we really need to buy two of everything."
"Well, I told you, so much of it is portable and just folds up …"
"So we should just buy one of everything, but it all has to fold? I mean, unless it is twins. Then we'll have to buy two of everything that folds."
"It's not twins."
He looks pointedly at my plate, and the enormous piece of pizza that I'm tearing through. "You're sure?"
I don't even dignify that with an answer. I mean, really, what does he expect? I'm trying to grow a whole new person here. If wrestlers have to eat six meals a day to bulk up for the next weight class, shouldn't I have to eat six meals a day to grow a baby? Makes perfect sense to me.
"Well, I've been thinking about it," he says.
"Wrestling?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind. What've you been thinking about?"
"Baby furniture?" He says this in the form of a question because maybe I'm just a little bit slow. "I think I might have a solution for the big changing table controversy."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Two possible solutions, actually."
This I've gotta hear. "I'm listening."
"Well, you said it yourself. Those playpens are a little bit of everything. Crib, changing table … so we can just use that to change the baby. In fact, if you think about it, all we really need for the baby is one of those. And the stroller with the carseat. What else do we need? At least to start off with."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. Why do we need to have a crib and a cradle and a changing table, when one piece of equipment can do it all? And it folds up; your favorite feature."
"Yeah, and it'll be great to have in the living room. Convenient for naps and things, but my baby's not sleeping in a playpen its whole life."
"Well, of course not, Abby. When he gets too big for it, we'll have to get him a bed."
"You're not serious. You really want her to spend her whole babyhood sleeping in playpen. God Luka, I'm lucky my mother remembered to feed me, and even I had a crib."
"Who needs a crib? I slept in a laundry basket until I was three."
I can't help but laugh. "You're making this up. You probably didn't fit in a laundry basket when you were three months old, much less three years old."
"Okay, I made it up. Of course, we'll get the baby a crib. But why do we need a cradle?"
"Well, it's smaller. We can put it right next to the bed. Or move it from one room to the other if we need to."
"And the changing table?"
"Well, as the name implies, we need somewhere to change the baby."
"Abby, you're gonna end up changing that baby on the floor, or the bed, or the couch, or wherever else you happen to be. You don't need a special table."
"Yes, but even if you don't change the baby on the table all the time, you still need a place to keep your diapers and wipes and butt paste."
"Butt paste?"
"Yeah. For diaper rash. Somebody's Butt Paste. I forget the name, but it's supposed to work the best."
"And you have to keep it on the changing table?"
"Yes."
"Well, what about one of those dressers with the changing table top added on? You can take it off later and it's just a regular dresser."
"That's your big solution?"
"I think it's a good compromise. You get your changing table, I get a useful piece of furniture."
"But where will I put the diapers and the wipes and the butt paste?"
"In a drawer?" He suggests, sounding a little exasperated.
"Then where will I put the onesies and the nightgowns and the sleepers and socks and mittens and the little hats?"
"They're big dressers, Abby. I think there will be more than enough room."
"Blankets, towels, burp cloths, crib sheets …" I rattle off a few more baby items that we'll need to find a home for too.
"Bottom drawer. Diapers and stuff in the top drawer, clothes in the middle drawer, linens in the bottom drawer. Problem solved. Changing table while the baby's a baby and after that … a regular dresser. That way we don't have to buy something that we'll only use for a couple years, at best."
"Well, you only use the crib for a couple years."
"We can get one of those cribs that turns into a regular bed."
"Now I have to pick a crib that turns into a bed?"
"No, of course you don't have to. It's just suggestions. Ways to be more economical. Especially if we're gonna be buying double of everything. Of course, if we don't have to buy two of everything …"
"You know what," I interrupt quickly before this conversation can go any farther and either turn into a full-blown argument or wander into uncharted territory that I'm not ready to explore, "Can we talk about this later? We've got a while before we have to decide anything, right? And I'm getting tired, so if you're ready to go home …"
"If I'm ready? I was ready a long time ago."
"Then why did we eat here?"
"Because you made me buy you dinner."
"Yeah, I just wanted you to buy me some pizza. I didn't say we couldn't take it home."
"Why didn't you say that two hours ago?"
"I never said I wanted to eat here." He gives me a dark look.
"Then why did we?"
"I don't know." He's looking at me now like he wants to scream. Or maybe like his head is about to explode. But he takes a couple of deep breaths and doesn't say a word. Instead, he goes to pay the check and comes back to retrieve the bags … and me. Once we make our way out of the crowded restaurant, he looks at me and shakes his head. I'm sure he means to convey a sense of disapproval, but I can see the amusement behind the frustration.
"Thanks," I say to him, reaching out to grab his hand. "For … indulging me. You know, the shopping. The cravings. I know you just wanted to stay home and sleep today, and instead you cooked for me, stood in line for me, shopped for me …"
"And carried the bags. Don't forget that."
"And carried the bags," I agree.
"It was my pleasure," he says. "For the most part."
I lean into him, and look up to give him a smile. "Well, as soon as we get home, you can go right to sleep."
"No, I can't."
"Why can't you go straight to bed?"
"Well, I can go straight to bed, but not straight to sleep."
"Oh. I promise I won't keep you awake this time."
"I was kind of hoping you would."
"No, I won't bug you with my crazy ramblings. If I can't sleep, I'll go downstairs. Watch TV or something. Wait, did you say you wanted me to keep you awake?"
"Well, yeah." He looks at me and waggles his eyebrows. I tilt my head, confused. "How quickly you forget. You were gonna make it up to me, remember? From the dressing room," he elaborates when I don't show any signs of recognition.
"Oh, yeah. You're gonna hold me to it, huh?"
"Well, no. Not if you're too tired."
"You were the one who didn't get the beauty sleep you wanted," I remind him.
"I can stand it if you can."
"Well …" I try to sound as noncommittal as possible, but suddenly he's hurrying me down the street, anxious to get home.
When we get there, as soon as we shed our coats and drop our bags, I find myself being hustled off to the bedroom. I'm not complaining, but my bladder is. After all, it's been more than 20 minutes since the last time I peed. And all that sugar-free, caffeine-free soda at dinner probably didn't help. I leave an understandably frustrated Luka with a promise to be right back. I don't think that it's taken me that long to pee, but when I return to the bedroom, I find Luka sprawled on the bed, pretty much where I left him, still dressed. But sound asleep. I walk over to the bed and smile down at him, reaching out to brush the hair back off his forehead. He doesn't even stir. Poor Luka. He must be exhausted, he didn't even take off his shoes. I pull off his shoes and socks, and consider removing his jeans, too. I spend a few moments entertaining wicked fantasies about what I could do after I get his pants off, but in the end he looks so peaceful that I hate to disturb him. Even though there's a part of me that would love to put one of those nasty little fantasies to good use in waking him up, I decide I really should let him get some sleep.
So with a sigh, I cover him up with the blanket and resolve to get some sleep myself. But it's not long after I slip into bed beside him, that my resolve starts to weaken. I find myself unable to get settled, restlessly moving around. My mind is in overdrive again, but this time my thoughts have nothing to do with the baby. There's a decidedly more carnal aspect to them now. I slide a look over at Luka who's still out like a light. In an effort to not be selfish, I figure I'll try just snuggling up next to him, maybe that will help me sleep. Rolling over against him, I cuddle up to him and rest my head on chest. No, that just makes it worse. I flop back over onto my back next to him. I try thinking about chocolate. Calculating how many candy bars I've got stashed around the place. Wondering if there's enough to be an acceptable substitute, but knowing it's not what I really want.
"Luka," I whisper, leaning over him. "You sleeping?" I lean down and kiss his temple. "Luka?"
"Mmm," he mumbles, clearly not at all awake.
I feel bad about this whole thing, but still, I shake him a little bit. "Luka, wake up."
"What?" Still mumbling but a little more coherent.
"Are you gonna wake up?" I stroke his cheek lightly with the back of my finger.
"Mm-hmm. Okay." But his eyes close again.
"Luka?" I try again, this time nibbling on his ear, figuring that should be enough to make my intentions known.
"Not now, Abby."
"You don't want to?"
"Not really." I pull away from him, hurt. He could have let me down a little easier.
"Fine. Whatever." I roll away from him, turning my back to him.
"Okay," he says with a yawn, but otherwise sounding fully awake, "What'll it be this time?" He's sitting up now, rubbing at his eyes.
"Nothing. Never mind."
"No, it's okay."
"Well, don't do me any favors."
"No, really. What do you want?" What do you think I want, genius? Or rather, what I wanted since I'm suddenly not in the mood anymore. Those chocolate bars are sounding better all the time.
"Nothing from you," I answer him.
"You're mad?" He sounds … confused, but maybe a little mad … or at least irritated, himself.
"No. Why should I be mad?" I say in a huff. "What do I care? I can just eat two or three candy bars and pass out in a chocolate coma. It's all the same to me, really. I mean, I was hoping for two or three orgasms so I could pass out in a sex coma, but I'll settle for the chocolate. I wanted the sex, but I'll take the chocolate."
"You woke me up for sex?"
"No, Luka, I woke you up for a Scooby-Doo marathon on the cartoon network."
"Sorry. I thought you were just waking me up for a food run. That you were gonna ask me to go get you donuts. And not that I wouldn't have, I was just …"
"Tired? Yeah. I get it. You're tired. I'm sorry I woke you." And I am, in more ways than one, but I probably didn't sound the least bit contrite. I try for a softer, more sincere tone. " Just go back to sleep."
"Where are you going?" He asks as I throw the covers back and get out of bed.
"To get the chocolate."
"Don't do that," he says, reaching out for me as I pass by him.
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I don't think you need to drive your blood sugar any higher." I stick out my tongue at that. "And for another … I'm awake now."
"Too late," I say, pulling out of his grasp.
"Why is it too late?"
"Because … now I want the chocolate."
"What about me?"
"You can have some chocolate, too. Maybe." I tell him as I head out the door.
"That's not what I meant. Hey, come back here." I pause just long enough to give him a mischievous smile. "Abby … you're not gonna make me chase you, are you?"
I don't answer, I just scramble down the stairs and into the kitchen. I've managed to rifle through the freezer just long enough to find one of my stash, when Luka 'catches' me. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling his lips against the crook of my neck.
"You don't really want this, do you?" He asks, removing the candy bar from hand and tossing it on the counter behind us. This time his sultry bedroom voice has nothing to do with being tired. He pulls me away from the freezer and turns me around so he can kiss me. But before he can make contact, I slip out of his embrace and hop up on the counter, retrieving my frozen Snickers.
"Actually, I do want it."
"It's frozen."
"And?"
"And I'm not," he says, closing the gap in between us, moving to stand in front of where I sit on the counter. He runs his hands up my legs, letting them rest on my hips for a moment before drawing me closer to him. I wrap my legs loosely around him, but I'm concentrating more on opening up the Snickers than on the way he's nibbling at my neck..
"You're not chocolate," I point out.
He pulls back from me, and studies me for a minute. "So you woke me up for nothing?"
"No, I told you, I woke you up for sex."
"But now want chocolate instead?" I look him up and down, standing there in the half light of the kitchen barefoot wearing a rumbled t-shirt and jeans that are tight, but not too tight. With his hair disheveled from sleep and his eyes dark with lust, I'm kind of rethinking the whole thing.
"Well, now that you mention it …"
"And you said I'm a tease." He interrupts before I can finish my thought.
I look up from the candy bar that I'm gnawing at. Damn thing's frozen, I can barely manage to get the slightest chunk broken off. Maybe I should try sucking on it, like a popsicle. Luka seems to be watching me intently.
"You're doing that on purpose," he says, watching me work on the chocolate.
"What?" I ask innocently.
"I think you know." He gives me a significant look. Oh. Oh, yeah. I hadn't meant for it to be … suggestive, but with the way he's leering at me, I guess that's how it turned out. "You're just trying to get me all hot and bothered."
"Who? Me?"
"Yeah, you."
"Well, if you're so bothered, you could stop staring at me."
"You're making that difficult … the way you're running around in your underwear and …" He stops talking, seeming to lose his train of thought. Preoccupied by my underwear, I suppose, since he's now staring at my chest. Looking down, I realize that the thin tank top I'm wearing does little to conceal my swollen breasts and protruding nipples.
"I can't help it," I tell him. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Used to having more humble breasts, I'm still getting used to this fuller set, complete with the hard-not-to-notice protrusions, that I've recently acquired. I don't know whose boobs these are, but they certainly don't feel like mine.
"Well, maybe if you wore some clothes …" He doesn't look up to meet my eyes, but I see the lurid grin on his face.
"It doesn't have anything to do with being cold. They're like that all the time these days. But I guess if I wore some clothes, it would be harder for you to leer at me." He lifts his eyes up to meet mine with a sheepish look on his face. "Not that I'm complaining," I tell him. "And I know how much you're enjoying them."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know, Luka. Just because you have your hands up my shirt every chance you get … You're just lucky they're not sore anymore."
"It was all the healing massage," he suggests.
"Right." I see the way he's looking at me again. With definite hunger that has nothing to do with chocolate.
"You know," he says, his voice low and throaty. " I could make you forget all about that candy bar." He unconsciously licks his lips, looking me up and down in a way that's making me grow warm all over. I know that the way my nipples are contracting has nothing to with my lack of clothing or the coldness of the room. On the contrary, it's from the heat we're generating without even touching.
"Oh yeah?" Is my only response, but there's a definite challenge in my tone.
He takes a step toward, eliminating any space between us, and takes my face in his hands, kissing me in way that lets me know he means business. I don't resist when he deepens the kiss. When my toes start to curl is about the time I drop the candy bar on the counter in favor of wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands, surprisingly warm, have predictably found their way under my skimpy tank top already so I'm a little surprised when he suddenly pulls away from and takes a step back, fixing me with a look I can't quite decipher. Before I know what's happening, he's pulled me forward and lifted me over his shoulder, in a fireman's carry, as he turns toward the stairs.
"Luka!" I cry out as I find myself suddenly perched on his shoulder, presumably about to be whisked off to the bedroom.
"Don't worry, I won't drop you."
"Who said anything about dropping me? I want you to bring the chocolate."
I can just imagine the eye roll or exasperate look that must cross over his face. But he does pick up my candy bar. "Okay," he tells me, "But you're gonna have to earn it."
Hmm … kinky. I consider the possibilities. But I don't ask him what he has in mind, I just let myself be ferried to the bedroom where he lowers me to the bed. He lays down next to me, reaching out immediately to touch me. He runs his hand along the contours of my body before sliding it under the edge of my shirt to trace lazy circles on my belly. His hand on my belly sparks a thought that quickly preoccupies me. I vaguely feel him shift his weight to bring our bodies into contact. And I automatically wrap my arms around his head as he leaves a trail of kisses from the hollow of my neck down across my breasts.
"Abby," he says, suddenly lifting his head from my chest. "This was your idea, remember? I thought you might like to participate." He takes the opportunity to pull away long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head and lower his jeans.
"Sorry. I was just … thinking."
"Oh, no," he says, disheartened, dropping down on the bed next to me, his head falling onto my shoulder. "Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? Is this some mean practical joke? What did I ever do to you?"
"Besides get me pregnant?"
"You're gonna use that one forever, aren't you?"
"Well, you seduced me in a moment of weakness and got me pregnant. I ought to be able to use it."
"Seduced you?"
"Yeah, sex was certainly the furthest thing from my mind when I came over here. I just wanted to give you a piece of my mind."
"You were upset."
"So that means you should kiss me?"
"I couldn't stand seeing you cry. I wanted you to feel better. I just wanted to doing something."
"Well, you did something all right," I say, patting my slightly rounded belly. "That's what I was thinking about."
"What?"
"That night."
"What night?"
"Luka. That night." I pat my belly again for emphasis.
"Oh, that night. That night we made a baby." He's beaming as he leans over to capture my lips in a soft and sweet kiss.
"Yeah. Somehow tonight was reminding me of that night. I guess the way you just up and kissed me. And then grabbed me and picked me up and hauled me off to the bedroom."
"I didn't grab you and pick you up that night." He sounds unnecessarily indignant.
"Yes, you did. I distinctly remember you carrying me up here."
"That's only because you jumped on me. If you jump into my arms, I have to catch you. "
"I didn't jump into your arms," I protest.
"Sure you did. I kissed you. And then we stood there for a minute. I was waiting to see if you were gonna slap me, but instead you threw yourself at me, literally."
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"Did not." But I can't help cracking a smile. It's all the opening he needs. He quickly has me pinned down, his legs on either side of me, his hands holding my wrists tight against the mattress.
"You did. You did, and you know it," he insists. "Admit it. Don't make me tickle you."
"Okay, okay."
"You have to say it."
"Fine. I threw myself at you. There. Happy?"
"Mm-hmm," he nods and loosens his grip, only to quickly scoop me up and roll me over with him, landing me squarely on top of him. "So that's what you were thinking about? How you threw yourself at me that night?" He brushes the hair back from my face, tucking loose strands behind my ears.
"Not exactly. I was thinking about … sex."
"You could have fooled me."
"Not like that. I mean, I was thinking about how weird it all is. That night, you know, we just had sex. Big deal, right?"
"Gee, thanks."
"You know what I mean. Even though it was noteworthy for several reasons, it was still … a common enough occurrence. I mean, not for us. Not then. But in general … Well, it didn't seem like it was a life-altering event. That night was …"
"Nice?" He supplies. I give him a look of confusion. "That's what you said then," he reminds me.
"It was a lot more than nice. I just … well, back then … I didn't know how you felt about it so I didn't want to, you know, say too much.. But it wasn't just nice, I knew that then. But there was even more to it than I thought as it turns out … But that's what I'm getting at. At the time, I didn't know. I didn't know that anything extraordinary was happening. But it was. You know, there we were sleeping the day away, eating breakfast, going in to work. All the time, having no idea that anything out of the ordinary, much less amazing, was going on. It' so strange, but incredible. I mean, we had sex, and now there's a baby."
He's laughing at me now. "Yeah, Abby. That's kinda how it works."
"I know. And I know it sounds ridiculous. I'm a doctor. I was an OB nurse. I understand how reproduction works. The biology isn't a mystery to me. But I guess until I was in the middle of it, I never really thought about it. I mean, pregnancy was an unfortunate consequence of sex, something to avoid. But now that I've … embraced this pregnancy, I see it differently, you know?" I sigh, and turn my head to rest my cheek on his chest. "It's like … magic." He's stroking my hair, no longer laughing, just listening. "I never really thought about how something so amazing could come out of something so simple. Well, I guess only the act itself is simple. The rest of it … I mean, two tiny little cells, invisible to the naked eye, join together and start growing and it turns into a baby. And this is all nothing I didn't already know, but I guess it's just different when it's happening to you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Yeah, I guess he would. But that's not something I'm gonna bring up now.
"It's kinda cool, though, don't you think?"
"What? The miracle of life?"
"Well, that. But I was thinking about the fact that we know … you know, when the baby was conceived. Now I look back at that night and it's … special."
"So it was just nice then, but now it's special."
"No, it was special then, too. Now it's just extra special. Knowing it's when we made this baby."
"All that magic taking place, and we had no idea. You just thought it was some nice, no-big-deal sex."
"Luka."
"And it was apparently so unmemorable to you, that you managed to put it out of you mind completely."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, you told me that you didn't even consider the possibility that you were pregnant for a long time."
"I didn't have any symptoms. Not really. Okay, so maybe I was a little late."
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot late. But I didn't realize because I was so caught up in what was happening with us. Not because I thought that the sex that night was too mundane to have resulted in a pregnancy. And not because I forgot about that night. Believe me, I didn't. I'm just really good at denial. But I should have known. Even if they're weren't that many signs, I should have known when the coffee started tasting funny. I mean, I could drink it, and I did, but I wondered why it didn't smell as good to me anymore. So I should have known."
"Because of the coffee? Not because you skipped your period or anything."
"Well … I told you, I have a real talent for denial. But I really had no idea. Until all of a sudden it just hit me. I was pretty shocked." I smile, thinking about that day, and what a vast understatement I just made.
"Yeah, I know the feeling. But now I'm even happier that you showed up that night. It was such a miserable day. But something beautiful came out of it. Just having you back in my life was great. But that that night brought this baby into our lives makes it that much more beautiful."
"Funny how that happens. When you least expect it, something you didn't even know you wanted …"
"So you're glad it happened?"
"The baby? Yeah, I'm glad the baby happened. Still a little overwhelmed. Still terrified. And I still think the whole thing is pretty crazy. But I'm happy."
"Me, too."
I lift my head up, propping myself up so that I can give him a mischievous grin. "I'm really glad that you seduced me and knocked me up."
He narrows his eyes at me in mock anger. "Okay, that's it. Now you're in trouble."
"For making slanderous remarks and ruining your good name?" He nods slowly. "So what are you gonna do to me?"
"I'm gonna make you pay," he says, rolling me back over to my back, his weight pinning me down as his lips seek out mine.
As I happily return the kiss, I think that this is the kind of payment that I'm really going to enjoy.