You, Penny and Eggy barely slept that night. Despite running a high fever and suffering from bruised pride, Penny insisted on staying awake with you. He had taken to keeping a baseball bat by the side of your bed, occasionally pacing whenever his restlessness takes him.
Part of you wants to join too, but you're exhausted, more so than usual and also coping with the wave of nausea that's threatening you. Eggy's twitchy and refusing to let you out of her sights, following you everywhere, even into the toilet.
You want to be angry at Penny, you do but it's coming from a place seeking blame than actual reasoning. He doesn't say it, but nobody, not even Penny had expected a former flame to suddenly pop back into his life, demanding to be instated as some sort of mentor for your child. Your mate did mention that you could be expecting some troubles when Eggy gets older, but he hints it's something akin to what human parents' call 'The Terrible Twos'. But now you find out that it's more dangerous than that and you both are at the mercy of an empowered Devourer to control it and that asshole is off doing God knows what!
Then there's the fact that people are going to start going missing again. What this means for Derry. Especially a certain recovering librarian whom you visit once in a while. Though it stings a little, you are glad that Mike and his friends had forgotten about you and Pennywise. You don't want the poor guy to find out that there's another horror lurking around. They gang deserve peace, untainted by horror. You hope that they don't remember this time. And that this Bob had the decency…wait no, er, at least the pragmatism to not start hunting around this particular Derry. You hope he do it on his own playground.
"He'd better. This not his grounds." Penny growls as you voice out your thoughts. "Though I won't say no if those brats come back and knock him around a bit."
"Was it ugly when you break up?" You ask. Penny ponders this for a while, then shakes his head.
"No. We just separated because neither of us got what we wanted. I just don't like that jerk swanning into my neighbourhood and butting into my family life." He explains, before patting Eggy on her head. "Also, he touched my daughter. He can rightly fuck off."
You smile at his protective streak before remembering why Bob came by, "But we need him?"
"Unfortunately…but don't worry. I'll make sure he does not exceed his welcome. We may need him, but that doesn't mean we have to accept him." Penny huff, before sniffling.
Then he continues pacing, occasionally checking out the windows and doors, even though both of you knew that Bob didn't need to knock to barge in.
"I'm sorry." Penny blurts out, after he lies down beside you, one arm wrapped around the bat and the other on the ice pack onto his forehead.
"Why are you sorry? This isn't your fault."
"I just – I don't know but it feels like it is?" he murmurs, eyes heavy from exhaustion.
You pat him gently, "Don't be silly, Pen, like you said, you parted ways. How were you supposed to know he'd pop up?"
"I just – I wish I wasn't so weak. I could have snapped him in two." He says quietly, burying him face into your shoulder. He sounds so defeated, like a child seeking approval.
"You're not weak. You're just human." You say, kissing him on top of his head.
"…I know." And he slips into sleep, tiredness finally takes him.
You keep awake though, partly because you don't want to be caught unawares and partly because your unborn baby, refuses to settle down.
Sometime past midnight, you had moved from your bed and settled down with the toilet bowl as your pillow. You had lost count at just how many times you had vomited and eventually you cease flushing every time you're done because you don't want to waste water. Penny even rouses himself to accompany you, rubbing your back and making sure your hair is tucked away from your face.
"Gee, humans sure find ways to make this whole process nightmarish."
Any smart remarks you want to make are drowned as you bend over, hurling. At some point Penny says he's going to get some water for you and you're left alone, shaking and shivering.
You feel the urge again and pat your belly. You want to tell your body that this is ridiculous – you have nothing left to purge except for stomach acid and that's bad for your esopha-eosphe-organ tube damn it! But your body is all – fuck you bitch, hormones gotta hormones.
Eventually you hear Penny's quiet footsteps and a cool glass of water placed in your hands.
"Thanks sweetie…" you grab the glass, your fingers brushing against silken gloves.
You whip to your sides, eyes widening with horror as Bob smirks at you, "Why, sweetheart, you look like you'd seen a ghost!"
Before you can scream, Bob clamps one hand against your mouth and another on the hand that was holding the glass of water. You fight, kicking and snarling, your free hand scratching him, nausea forgotten as you attempt to hurt this asshole. Bob rolls his eyes and didn't even flinch, instead he tightens his grip, his blue eyes slowly turning yellow, rimmed with angry red, his fangs peeking from his mouth.
"Do stop, [Y/N], you're just embarrassing yourself."
You snarl against his hand, spitting into those silken gloves once last time before quieting, wishing looks can kill.
The clown leers at you, "Don't be rude. Here I am, bringing you a drink and you spit on me? For shame, [Y/N], for shame. Surely your mother taught you better?"
This asshole has the audacity to bring up your mother? You want to kick him again but your body shudders, your eyes water as another bout of nausea begins. As though sensing it, Bob releases you just as you spin and hurl once more. Your throat burns as the acid coats your insides and tears pour freely down your face because you don't want to feel this weak; this vulnerable towards a creature you hate. Worse is the quiet, comforting hushes Bob makes as he pats your back, as though he cares. Then he tips the cool water against your parched lips. You whine, wanting to refuse but as soon as the cold clear drink touches your tongue, you gulp them down eagerly, your body trembling all the while.
Bob slips his arms under your armpits and you keen feebly with protest as he adjust you into a more comfortable position against your bathtub. He hands you another tall glass of water. You're dimly aware that you finished the one he gave you before but your mind reminds you 'magic', so you down this one as well. Slowly, your mind begins to clear as your belly settles down. Bob had wrapped one arm around your shoulders, caressing it as he hums a circus tune under his breath.
It's peaceful, really. Your body relaxes under his ministrations and though it feels wrong, you can't help but sink into that embrace.
Both of you sit there for a while before you realise something.
"Where's Penny?" you ask, alarmed that your mate is taking a long time to get a glass of water.
"Oh, don't worry about him. Sent him to bed, y'see I was passing by when I heard you horking all over. Thought it'd be rude not to drop by."
Your body tenses but Bob laughs uproariously at your reaction.
"Don't worry, kid. I'm not going to hurt you! I'm here to make sure you're okay." He explains, patting your shoulder.
"I – I don't think I'm comfortable with that." You reply, trying to move away from his embrace. But while your mind wants to get out of it, your body is screaming for you to stay.
Bob tilts his head towards you, his lips forming a small smile, "I know. I mean, we kinda got off the wrong foot. I didn't mean to scare you but I can't help it…"
"…it's in your nature. I know, Penny said the same thing too." You say, remembering those exact same words, spoken while you were huddling under your bed covers, afraid for your life. Look at how far both of you had come.
"Heh, that's him all right." He muses, eyes staring into a memory older than your universe.
An awkward silence grew, got pregnant and gave birth to more awkward silences. You hope Penny is fine. You have a strange feeling that some reality warping is made because no way in seven hells would Penny take the whole ex talking to current flame bit lying down. But you're exhausted and your body seems to be more interested in falling asleep against Bob rather than flopping away. Part of you is angry that you don't have the strength to fight back but another is telling you to just go with it and hope the next time he doesn't jump in while your unborn child is wreaking havoc all over your innards. As though sensing your irritation, you feel the tell-tale signs of bile rising up again and your shoulder heaves from the strain.
Bob clucks sympathetically at you.
"Aww, poor Mama is sick. Here let me help you…" Bob says, moving to turn your back to him. You feebly try to reject him, not wanting to spend more time with this clown but as soon as those gloved fingers find its way to your shoulders you fucking melt because holy jesus – it's so damn good.
His fingers are amazing – Bob's hands move like some sort of balm upon your back. Each stress knot unfurling under his ministrations. True your body is basically jello at the moment but it is a good jello feeling, like after doing a good stretching or yoga or after a vigorous sex where both of you end up piled onto the surface, flushed and satisfied.
Except this is not sex but something so much like it but less messy.
You're aware that at some point you were moaning pleasurably and you really shouldn't because Bob keeps chuckling whenever you do.
"Poor, [Y/N], all stressed out. Look at you all high-strung. You just need someone to take care of you, don't you babe? Someone who knows how to take care of a lady." He murmurs as you half listen because DAMN you didn't know your lower back was that tense. Fingers presses gently against your skin, hitting you in the right spots. He massages your neck, your aching shoulders then down, down to your waist, taking care to press long, languid circles – just there. At some point Bob had gotten closer, you can feel him breathing down your neck but you're so far gone you don't realise that one of his hands had moved from behind you to caress your womb. His touch quells whatever flip-flopping your unborn baby was doing and you sigh with relief.
Not so when those gloved hands trail upwards and start cupping your breasts.
"What the fuck?" you yell, pushing away from Bob, hands akimbo against your chest protectively. Bob's blue eyes widen comically before he leered at you.
"Oh, oopsie." He says unapologetically.
"How dare you? That –" you splutter with indignation as you force yourself up and way from this asshole. Bob sneers at you before breaking into a guffaw at your reaction. This asshole, this sexual harassing asshole!
You don't wait for his excuses because nothing would make what he did remotely okay, you open your mouth to scream, "PEN-"
But Bob is faster, before you can finish he slams you against your bathroom wall, hand clamped firmly against your mouth. You glare, not caring that yellow eyes were glaring back. You try to kick him, struggling against his grip, you screams fiercely despite being muffled.
"Gee and here I thought we were getting along fine." Bob utters menacingly as you fight to escape.
"You know what sweet heart? I think you need a good night's rest. Nothing's worse than having a bad dream after a stressful day." He chuckles and you stop, frowning at his words before sleep, heavy and terrible sweeps across your eyes and before you can snarl, you slump forward, the last thing you hear is that odd, calming, hum…