As the induction date approached, Emily's mood became increasingly sour. Because, in spite of what Derek said, she still really wanted to do this naturally. Which is why she'd been a woman on a mission for the better part of a week...and that mission was kick-starting her labour.

Yawning, Derek padded into the living room to find her bouncing on a yoga ball, looking rather worse for the wear. "Morning, Beautiful," he greeted, stretching.

"Don't 'beautiful' me," she snapped. "I look like shit and I know it." He looked like he would've liked to argue the matter, but quickly thought better of it upon seeing her expression. "It's your fault, by the way," she added.

"My fault?" he echoed. "How is it my fault?"

She huffed, put her hands on her hips...the effect rather comical with the bouncing. "You somehow manage to sleep like a fucking log while I'm tossing and turning all night with your spawn using my internal organs as a jungle gym."

He held up his hands in self-defence. "It's not like I wouldn't endure it for you if I could," he insisted. "But, well, it's kinda your department until he arrives."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, it's not fair," she insisted. "All you had to do was not pull out in time and you get a fucking kid in nine months, while I do all the hard work..."

"And I'm eternally grateful," he insisted. "What can I do to make you less...grumpy?"

With a pointed look, she said, "I want to go somewhere." He raised a brow in question. "On a date," she elaborated. "You know we won't get another one for months."

"Okay," he agreed. "We'll go on a date. Anything for my baby mama."

"Don't call me that," she snapped, struggling to stand from the ball.

...

"I know you're trying to get in my good books, but you didn't have to do this," Emily insisted as they descended the steps of the dimly lit movie theatre. She pouted in that way she had of trying to mask her smile when she was really happy. She wouldn't normally have been so overjoyed by the idea of seeing a movie, but for one thing, he was willingly joining her at a foreign movie when he normally would have balked at the idea...and secondly, it was air-conditioned and she was so tired of constantly sweating.

Derek grinned at her obvious joy, winked playfully at her. "Of course I did – you wanted a date, I'm giving you the date you deserve."

This time, she rolled her eyes. "You're cute...but that cheesiness gave me lactose intolerance."

Laughing, he retorted, "Are you sure it was me and not all the ice cream you've been eating?"

"Now you're losing points," she warned, grin disappearing.

Derek held up his hands in self-defence. "Consider this an apology," he said, pulling licorice from his pocket.

She continued glowering for a moment, then snatched the licorice away, tearing open the package like a rabid badger.

Derek chuckled, smirked. "You're so cute, Princess."

"Shh," Emily hissed, waving away his words. "The movie is starting."

...

"What are you doing?" Emily whispered as a hand wandered up her thigh and under her maternity dress.

He shrugged, faking innocence. "Isn't that why we came to a boring French movie? To make out?"

She shot him a glare in the darkness. "Derek," she hissed.

"What?" he asked, hand stalling on her thigh. He seemed genuinely confused about the source of her consternation; they had a time-honoured tradition of making out in movie theatres... "Why are you upset?"

She shoved him off her. "Because you're a pig!" she snapped.

"What? Why?" he asked, voice high-pitched and almost offended.

"Your mind instantly goes to sex, all the time! I'm like a piece of meat to you! You'd think being nine months pregnant would dissuade you a little, but God..."

From somewhere in the darkness, someone shushed them.

He groaned audibly, both from being shushed and Emily's unreasonable anger. "For fuck's sake, Emily, you know that's not true."

She glared at him, a visible challenge. "Do I?" She cocked her head, daring him to say otherwise.

Seeming genuinely confused (and maybe a little saddened), he said, "Haven't I made it abundantly clear? I've done everything in my power to make you happy this entire pregnancy, to the expense of everything else in my life...haven't I?"

"Well...maybe..." she stammered. "I mean, I guess..."She huffed, partly out of anger, partly frustration at her sudden ineloquence. She crossed her arms over her chest. "But..."

"But what?" He was genuinely curious about the end of the sentence.

She pursed her lips, exhaled through her nose. "I don't know, okay? I'm just mad at you!"

"That's unreasonable, Em. You can't just be mad at me for no reason – you don't get to do that," he said, sounding like he was trying his best to remain calm and patient with her, but was losing the battle. "I know you're hormonal and shit, but you don't get to hold grudges and punish me without a good reason."

She rolled her eyes, tossed her hands in the air in exasperation. "So sorry to inconvenience you with by getting pregnant!"

"That's not what I meant," he said on a sigh. He seemed more weary than anything else in that moment, more exhausted than angry. This isn't how he'd wanted this afternoon to go, how he wanted their last date to end.

"Well, what did you mean?" Emily challenged.

"I mean... I-I was trying to say..." he stammered. "Jesus, Em," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can't we just finish the movie and fight later?"

She appeared to consider it for a moment, lips mashed together. Then, "I want to go home. Now."

His brows leapt up his forehead. "Now? But..."

"Now!" Without waiting for him to follow, she stood from her seat and marched out of the theatre, leaving him no choice but to scramble after her and avoid being left behind as she had the car keys in her purse.