Deck the Halls

"What the hell are you doing?"

Skye looks down at him from the top of the ladder like she honestly doesn't get what his problem is.

"Decorating?" she says, the word coming out more like a question than a statement as she holds up the garland held in her hand in demonstration. "You know, what people do around this time of the year?"

The instinctive answer – seasoned with an expletive – almost escapes from his lips, but he swallows in the last possible moment and opts for an exasperated grunt instead. He leaves her to her own devices for two hours, and that's how he finds her…

"Down," he says simply, patiently, stepping closer and reaching for her. "Come down."

"I'm fine," she protests, trying to bat his hands away. "Honestly, Grant…!"

Not caring about her protests, he slips one hand behind her knees, the other her waist, and with some difficulties (and with the help of her eventual surrender) he lifts her off the ladder, cradling her against his body.

"You're pregnant," he says as he carries her to the couch, his gaze wandering to her belly; she's at thirteen weeks now, and their baby is nothing but a gentle curve, and heavens, he's terrified. "You can't–"

"I told you I'm fine," she huffs indignantly as he puts her down on the couch. "Yes, I'm pregnant – thank you for reminding me of that." (The corner of his mouth twitch.) "And I'm taking care of myself. And yet, I can handle standing on a freaking three-step ladder!" She crosses her arms and looks at him with steely gaze (she's not that intimidating as she thinks she is).

"I'm just–"

"Hush!"

"I worry–"

"Hush!"

This time he stays silent. Takes one deep breath, lets it out and tries again.

"I love you. I know I can be overbearing, but I'm scared out of my mind, and if I could, I would keep you in a secure room for the next six months. So please, bear with me."

There's a moment of silence, but then he can see as her gaze soften and her shoulders relax.

"I love you too," she says, then gives him a little come closer gesture; when he does lean closer, she gives him a quick peck on the lips. "And now, up on that ladder!"

"What?"

"Well, the base won't decorate itself, and if I'm not allowed to do it…" She shrugs. "So chop-chop!" And with that, she leans back against the cushions.

He just lets out a resigned sigh, turns around, and picks up the fallen garland from the floor. She is lucky he loves her (but Hunter is better not hear about this).