"Every breath you take and every move you make,
Every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you."
—Every Breath You Take
The Police

As soon as she was snuggled up into his side, she was out for the count. Were it not for her alarm, she would have missed getting back up for work entirely. Dressing and making herself up was a chore what with Betelgeuse constantly begging for her to stay, but when her face flushed red with annoyance and she snapped "I'm going and that's that!" he let up, seemingly getting the message.

It was only four hours, and Ginger had a stool set up behind the register so she didn't have to be on her feet throughout the whole shift. She wore simple black leggings and her favorite oversized sweater today, not in any mood to listen to Ginger prattle on about the bump and how cute it was. There would be plenty of time for that once she got bigger.

"Can I help y—… Oh."

It was the clown, the one that once offered her free "juggling" lessons when she was too naïve to understand his double meaning. She hadn't seen him since then and was surprised that he had come back at all.

"What do you want, Scuzzo?"

The clown mozied up to the counter arrogantly, leaning far over and invading her space, staring at her tummy under the shapeless garment. Lydia recoiled, wrapping her arms around her midsection protectively and leveling him with a sour glare. That was all he needed to see.

"So it's true," he accused, speaking in a squeaky voice that grated on her nerves, interspersed with an unbearable lisp. "Beteljerk knocked up his breathin' slam piece. Fuckin' bastard. S'a shame, really. Yer so hot. Now yer gonna get all fat n' bitchy."

Lydia's jaw dropped, face burning with shame. Who the fuck did he think he was? Betelgeuse had explicitly told her that if Scuzzo came into the shop again she was to call him immediately, but her pride couldn't bear the thought of calling him in to fight her battles.

"Ya should do yourself a favor n' get that abomination scraped, sweetheart."

He was done joking around. He wasn't even smiling while he said this. There was such raw contempt in his gaze, and Lydia didn't know what she could have possibly done to earn it. Most denizens of the Neitherworld were warm and kind to her. Shaking with rage, she pointed at the exit, struggling to keep from socking him right in his stupid clown nose.

"Leave, and don't ever come back. You're lucky I'm not calling my husband to kick your ass."

That was a light threat, really. If Betelgeuse heard what he just said, the clown would be off on Saturn making nice with Mikey Lapone.

Luna enjoyed following the human when she went to work. The animals bored her, and the mistress was much more enjoyable.

All kinds of people came through the mistress' shop, and Luna disliked nearly all of them. The clown was the worst. She bristled when he walked past and the Puća watched closely as he approached her human. He was bad news.

At the mention of the ghoul, Luna took off. He'd help her, certainly. And Lydia did need help. Luna could tell and she was always right.

Betelgeuse was working on the secret nursery that he'd begun to decorate when the creature tore into the room. He frowned and put down his paintbrush. "Luna?"

The clown is at the shop. Lydia is in danger.

He paled, his heart pounding. He was there in an instant, storming into the store.

Ya should do yourself a favor n' get that abomination scraped.

He growled and whipped out his pocket knife. The blade went straight through Scuzzo's hand, pinning him to the counter. "Ya wanna run that one by me, Scuz?"

Lydia released a high-pitched startled cry at the show of violence, jumping back at her husband's abrupt materialization. Some sort of black liquid was leaking out of Scuzzo's hand in a mimicry of blood, greasy fingers flexed and twitching.

"AHHH— ah haha heeeyyy, BJ," he tried to laugh the pain away and failed miserably, clear panic showing through on his painted face. Obviously, he wasn't expecting to get caught baiting the mortal. "Oh that? That wasn't nothin'. Just playin' around, you know? Inside joke? Haha… ha?"

The knife twisted. Scuzzo screamed. The sight of all the gore was making her feel faint. It was one thing to watch an H.G. Lewis movie in the comfort of her own home by her choice. It was another thing entirely to see all that carnage laid out in front of her. At the same time she dropped a little too heavily onto her stool, making the legs shudder, Ginger appeared from the back room, attracted by all the commotion. It didn't take her long to piece the scene together.

Hairy legs bristling, she made it to Lydia's side, baring fangs at the clown.

"Out," she demanded, enveloping her assistant protectively. "You ain't welcome in here no more, Scuzzo! And Betel! She don't need to be seein' this."

Betelgeuse looked up when the spider appeared, pulling his knife free and vanishing it. He rounded the counter hastily, rubbing his hands down Lydia's arms and then her thighs, as though looking for injuries.

"Are you okay? Luna came and got me, she thought you were in danger… and you!"

He pointed an accusatory finger at her employer. "Where the hell were you? You left her up here alone? After everything that's happened with that asshole and the others and Sarah you thought you could leave her up here alone?"

He was fuming. If he hadn't showed up, who knows what that asshole Scuzzo would have done to her. Creeps like him didn't take well to something so pure as a pregnant woman.

"And Lydia Deetz. You broke a promise. You promised me you'd call if he came in here again! Yer shift's done. Get yer ass up, we're goin' home."

Scuzzo was quick to take advantage of the opportunity to escape persecution, disappearing with a honk honk! Ginger immediately fell into apologies and tears when Betelgeuse turned on her, more susceptible than any of them to the pull of guilt.

"I'm sorry, BJ! I just— it was jus' gonna be a couple minutes— I didn't think— I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Ginger." Lydia had no such qualms. "You didn't do anything wrong. Leave her alone, Beej."

Part of her wanted to argue, stubbornly insist on remaining to finish out the rest of her shift— she hadn't even been there an hour— and tell him to calm down. Go take a walk. Smoke a cigarette. Higher reasoning told her that this was a bad idea. He was pissed, in no place to listen to logic or reason. All that aside, the truth remained that she was shaken. Maybe… maybe it would be best for her to just go home. As tearful and remorseful as Ginger was over the event, Lydia knew she would still have a job waiting for her when she came back.

Still, she made a nasty face at the crude way he insisted they go, muscling her up off the stool and toward the exit before she'd even given her consent.

"I'm coming! Just— slow down!"

He was fuming. He was beyond angry, now– at her, at Ginger, especially with Scuzzo… that asshole was going to get his reckoning when he was done dealing with his disobedient wife.

He fixed her with a stern look as they exited the store, yanking her into him with a growl. "I'm done, Lyds. I'm done with this. I can't deal with lettin' ya out of my sight like this. Clearly, Ginger can't be trusted to watch ya."

In a flash of lightning they were gone, and standing back in the dungeon he'd brought her to once before she'd revealed that she was barren. So much for that. "You broke yer promise, kitten. You promised me that you'd call if that asshole showed up. That you'd be careful. And you didn't. I let ya go to work with Ginge because it's good for ya and it makes ya happy… but I can't let you put yerself in danger like ya did today."

With a wave of his hand, Lydia was completely bare and secured to the wall with satin ropes, her arms held together over her head making her rounded belly stand out prominently. He ran his hand over the curve of it tenderly, looking into her eyes with a serious expression. "We gotta talk. Yer gonna listen. Got it?"

Lydia was equally distraught; by Scuzzo, by Betelgeuse's abrupt, vicious way of dealing with the situation, and most certainly by the swiftness with which he had her back strung up in his "playroom", a place she hadn't ventured since… since the night he managed to defy science, law, and reason and impregnated her.

Nevertheless, she was far from scared. What was he gonna do? Spank her? Terrifying.

"I didn't do anything!" She lashed out, struggling fruitlessly against her bonds as he ran his palm along the swell of her stomach. "He wasn't even there more than a minute! I told him if he didn't leave I was going to call you!"

Toward the end of her rant, despair started to leak through, tainting the indignant rage. How was this her fault? Didn't she do everything right?

"I— I would have," she insisted, on the verge of tearing up. "He— he was just saying mean things. I didn't think I needed you…"

"Oh, ya didn't think ya needed me… when a fucker was lookin' at ya like he wanted ya dead and was threatenin' our child! That was more than sayin' mean things, babes."

He ran his hand down her belly one more time before turning to the nearby cabinet and producing a kind of elastic harness. It was pushed onto her body, despite her wriggling; and nestled in against her crotch. A flip of a button on the remote in his hand set the bullet inside it to buzzing gently against her clit.

"There we go. Somethin' to clear your mind. Now… you're gonna tell Daddy Beej exactly what ya should have done when that asshole clown first showed up." She was silent, her frown still stubbornly in place. He turned to vibe up higher. "Go on… tell me."

Huffing and puffing in a way that made her milky, perky breasts heave, Lydia worked to quell the impending fit. It wasn't fair, but losing her temper never got her anywhere with him. When he raised his voice, yelling and using a tone he never took with her, she cringed and shook terribly, turning her face so far to the side to avoid his blustering that her neck twinged and her cheek hit the strange crushed velvet wall behind her.

Lydia really didn't like yelling, even less so when it was coming from a man. It reminded her of when her father was on one of his binges, or being small and her mother arguing with… but that didn't matter. He was quick to return to a normal speaking volume, reigning in his tangible rage.

Wanted you dead. Threatening our child.

Oh God, he was right. Why did he have to be right when he was being such an ass? Pouting deeply, bottom lip trembling, she remained stubbornly silent when he hooked her up to the sexually invasive mechanism, still coming to terms with how she could have possibly been wrong here when she was just minding her own business trying to do her job.

Then, the vibration increased. Expression faltering, she blinked, releasing a few residual guilty tears down her ruddy cheeks as he continued to stare her down, just as fierce and unwavering as when he began. Her legs, unbound and left to dangle with just enough give to keep her on her tip-toes, quivered under the force of the induced pleasure, thighs squeezing together in a misguided attempt to pause or slow the torrent. It did quite the opposite.

"Called. You," she finally bit out, eyes clenched shut, unable to face her misstep head-on.

He watched closely as she squirmed and twisted against the plush wall, her back arching beautifully and pushing her soft breasts toward him. All in all, it was a great show. Maybe they'd have to revisit this when he wasn't so pissy.

He growled softly when she didn't look at him. His hand slipped between her legs to press the bullet against her harder. "Open your eyes and try again. And tell me what else."

He really couldn't see where she was lost here. She was a precious commodity, not only because she was a living mortal, but because she was carrying a child. His child. There were too many assholes worse than Scuzzo who'd love to get their hands on her.

They couldn't afford to let their guard down.

When he shoved his hand between her legs, it was so large it encompassed the entire juncture, spanning thigh to thigh in a tight fit. The manacle he was using to torture her was surprisingly thin and made of some sort of black elastic material that pulled taut against her flesh like a complex piece of lingerie. His grabbing made the elastic pull tighter, cutting into cushiony flesh, but Lydia was far too troubled by other sensations to notice.

"Should have called you," she reiterated, eyes open wide and pleading with his as per his request, voice throaty with a heavy mixture of guilt and pleasure. The harder he pressed, the higher up it threw her pitch. "As soon as he came in. Should have— should have called you."

Where else did she go wrong? Frustrated, she backtracked all the way to that morning, saying whatever she thought might please him in her delirium.

"Shouldn't have even left the bed. Should have stayed home and cuddled with you. Please— please don't be mad at me."

Shouldn't have even left the bed.

"That's right… I told ya not to go in, didn't I? Said you should spend today at home with Daddy and ya turn around and get yerself put in harm's way!"

He shook his head as one might at a disobedient child, his fingers still pressing the vibrator cruelly against her clit. "Now. We're gonna drive this lesson home with some… overstimulation. When you cum I want ya to tell daddy yer sorry. Every time, no matter what I'm doin' to ya."

He pulled her hips away from the wall slightly to wiggle one thigh digit inside of her. "God, yer still so tight. Never fail to impress, kitten. Now. Cum when ya can…" He worked the finger inside of her, watching her face closely for signs of orgasm.

With a pitiable keening sound, she writhed against him, craning her neck up as he pushed closer. He was being so cold and rigid. When he was happy with her, he would lathe her face and neck with kisses, whatever his lips could reach to convey his deep love and appreciation. Now, he was statuesque, refusing her the affection she had been conditioned to expect at her peak.

Waves of pleasure crashed upon her craggy heart's shores and she sang for him; "I'm sorry!" sounding for all the world like a fabled siren of the deep, calling him to his damnation. The euphoric storm kept churning with the rutting of his knuckles and an increase in vibration, and she repeated the melodious cry as she was pulled under again. "I'm sorry!"

By now, both his hand and her thighs were slick with evidence of the repeat orgasms he was wrenching from her, pearlescent droplets almost reaching her knees. Third time's the charm. This one sent her shrieking and begging, giving him the name she only bestowed when he earned it, the one that felt so dirty and taboo and nasty on her still-innocent tongue.

"Daddy," she cried, losing stability of her legs until the satin round her wrists pulled tight, hindering circulation. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry! I'm bad! Please! Please don't be mad at me!"

When she started to cry, he was done for. He wasn't in this to hurt her, just teach her a lesson. Her sweet pleading was like a drug administered straight to his veins, a rush of power running through him.

He was hard, but ignored it. This was about Lydia and reminding her exactly where she needed to be. He was never going to let her out of his sight again.

He carefully removed his fingers and the toy, bracing her with a thigh between her legs as he took her down from her suspension. He kissed over her wrists as they were freed, slowly rubbing feeling back into the numb appendages.

"Yer not bad. You're not… you're a good girl, Lyds. Ya just gotta do what I ask. You understand?" He wiped at the tears still leaking down her cheeks. "I gotta keep you and our baby safe. That's my whole damn job… but I need your help. Understand? Can you help daddy, kitten?"

"I thought I could handle it."

Trembling and boneless, she surrendered to his care as if she had any other choice, relishing the way his cool flesh felt brushing against enflamed, abused places. Good girl.

"I don't want to be weak."

She choked on the word, releasing one last intrusive tear. It bothered her that she should need to call on him to protect her at all. Her entire life had just been her against the world, never anyone else to rely on or fall back to when things got tough … but she had a partner now, didn't she? It was them and bug, and everyone else could take a long walk off a short pier.

"I don't want to leave my job. Why… why did he hate me so much?"

A spark of trepidation bled through as she remembered the way the clown looked at her, spoke to her. Their first encounter was little more than harmless flirtation on his part if a bit lewd. This felt like an outright threat.

"Is it… because of what Juno said? How could anyone hate our bug?"

She was working herself up again at the very thought.

"People will always hate what they can't have. There are… a lot o' people who'd love to see me hurt. Right now, you and buggy are the easiest way t'get to me."

He pressed another kiss to her collar bone before standing and starting to put away the things they'd used. His anger was still sitting just under the surface of his skin, the air crackling around them with the force of it.

He didn't know how to make it clear to her how important this was. She had to stay safe and had to keep Bug safe. There was no way for him to ensure she wouldn't disobey him again… all he could do was try to drive the point home.

"You won't lose yer job. But yer not goin' in tomorrow. Rest of the week, maybe. Yer gonna sit here at home with me and remember why we do this. Why it makes me so damn angry when ya can't listen…. got it?"

Lydia's features twisted up in clear protest at the idea of taking a whole week off work. They had a large order coming up and Ginger was going to need her help. Nothing could be said to change his mind, however, and she was well aware, biting her tongue to hold back objections.

Got it?

"O-okay," she agreed hesitantly, battling aftershocks and shakiness as he departed briefly to put things away. Without him there to support her, she felt she might collapse, legs quivering badly as they were. She slid down the wall a bit, knees bent and pressed together to give her stability, hands fisted in the crushed velvet wall.

It hurt her to think that people wanted him hurt, wanted their bug hurt.

"Nobody's going to hurt us," she assured him— and herself— breathy and concerned, affected by his lingering rage. Something had to be done to calm him or else it would only fester. "You're too strong. Nobody's scarier than you."

"Yer still stayin' home. Flattery ain't gonna get you anywhere."

His anger was quickly becoming a very different kind of anxiety, his palms itching to take and claim his wife, lest any imagined enemies forget who she belonged to.

He paced instead, glancing at her as she stood there shaking. Her belly was more obvious with her bared to him completely, something in him purring at the sight of her with child. His child.

He came to help her to the bench where he'd bent her over his lap, this time helping her sit down while he considered his next move. "You gotta stay in. Just for a few days… for me. Okay? Can ya do that for daddy?"

Apparently, he was just as shaken as she was under that snarling, growling exterior. Again, he demanded she make a promise she already agreed to, and again, she bent to his whims. Melding her nude form against his stripes, she succumbed to exhaustion, trusting him wholly to care for her.

"I'll stay home."

As if she could go anywhere without his say so. Doomie could probably be bribed to go behind his back and take her on a joyride, but Lydia wouldn't dare disrespect him right now. As done with the day as she currently was, a week off was sounding better and better.

"I promise. Won't go anywhere. Just you and me and the babies."

He let out a breath he was holding for no reason and nodded, pressing his lips to her cheek. "That's my good girl… now. Daddy needs a little stress relief. You gonna help me out?"

He grinned at her, trying to put on their usual playful game, though it was lacking in the usual enthusiasm. He just needed her, under him, around him. Right where he knew she belonged.

He sat beside her on the bench and pulled her into his lap, his fingers trailing up her thigh gently. "I know you're tender, baby… I'm sorry. I shoulda done this right after ya finished cummin but… nevermind. You gonna let me have ya, sweet girl?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded simply, as if there was any other answer, lacing a feebly gripping arm around his neck as he pulled her into his lap. Guilty fingers traced up toward her pulsating core and she gently took hold of his seeking hand, pulling it the rest of the way so he could molest the hot, overly sensitive flesh. She trembled anew when the rough pads of his fingers made contact, but this was what made him happy. When he was happy, she was happy.

"You can always have me."

Teeth digging into her lip at the overbearing but not completely unpleasant needles-and-pins sensation down below, she hid from it against her husband's jacket, letting him touch his fill without complaint.

He sighed happily when she guided his hand the rest of the way to her hot, damp center. She was so good for him… always good, even when she'd been disobedient.

"That's it, sweetheart… you're so good for me." He shifted her just enough to get his cock worked free from its binds, letting it slap up against her solidly.

He pulled her and squeezed her until she was seated back against him, her legs spread just far enough for him to slide in against her wet core. He rocked slowly against her, groaning softly. This wouldn't be enough, but it was a start. "That's good, baby…"

Knees spread and hooked over his and feet hovering off the ground she was completely under his control. Sinking back against him, she gave in easily, going lax except for the sweet hand that trailed down to ever so kindly keep his heavy length angled up so he could slide and pleasure himself along her dripping slit, stimulating her madly pulsating clit as he went.

"I like it when you tie me up," she confessed in a hush, cheeks burning through the dimly lit dungeon. "It can be scary sometimes… but I like being scared."

Something honest and daring awakened within as she submitted to her capable husband's hands. Maybe it was the aesthetic of the room; all deep passionate colors, shiny metals and leathers, drawers upon drawers that contained who knew what. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones sending her libido into overdrive. In either case, she was suddenly eager to explore.

"There's a lot of stuff in here… do I only get to see it when I'm bad?"

He sighed heavily as her delicate hand found him, keeping him pressed deliciously against her exactly where he wanted to be. He pressed kisses over her neck and shoulders, his hands sliding up her thighs to rest over the steadily growing bump where their child resided.

I like it when you tie me up... I like being scared.

He grinned into her neck, nipping just a bit harder than before to begin leaving a mark on her soft, pale skin. "Well that's good, baby... because I like tyin' ya up. Ya looked real pretty all trussed up on the wall..."

He was suddenly remorseful that he hadn't taken the opportunity to fuck her up the wall, but with the state they'd both been in, he didn't want to hurt her too bad. The burn on her skin from the velvet would have been uncomfortable the next morning anyway.

"We can come in here any time ya like, baby girl... any time."

He brought one hand down to hers where she was keeping him pressed against her and pushed just so that the head of his cock popped into her tight entrance. He moaned and pulled her tighter against him. "Fuck, that's good... how are you always so fucking good, baby?"

This was a new angle, an unfamiliar position. Usually, when she rode in his lap, it was facing him, knees and legs plastered in a way to give her leverage. With how they were now, she was limited to arching, pushing her hips back and down to sink him deeper into her, holding onto his pant leg as he caressed wherever he wanted. She was completely open to him, everything vulnerable but today he favored her belly. All things considered, she couldn't really blame him.

A striped arm draped over her front, a large hand groping at her swelled breasts, the other spanning fully, territorially over her pouting middle. Slowly, achingly, he let her drop down over his girth, hissing cursing praise in her ear.

How are you always so fucking good, baby?

She never knew how to answer this question and now was no different. Choked sounds vibrated up her throat, calves squeezing under his thighs to pull him deeper.

"Oh— oh God…"

Lashes fluttering in time with the clenching muscles milking his cock, her grip on his pants tightened till her knuckles whited out. Everything was so sensitive. Every thick inch was swallowed eagerly until she was keening and panting, too full to think straight. They'd barely even begun and she was already near to popping off for him.

"Baby," she begged, shifting her well-fed hips to little relief in a moment of still, callouses rubbing loving circles over their growing bug. "Fuck… fuck me… please…"

He squeezed and pulled at her gently, rocking her up and down on his cock eagerly. Her soft pleading and wriggling making him all that more frantic in his motions. He pressed his face to her sweaty neck, her soft flesh giving in to his desires so readily that he almost felt like he was dreaming, fantasizing the way she was surrendering to him.

He picked up the pace, his cock slamming into her firmly on each upbeat. "God, baby you feel amazing...yer so beautiful... how'd I get so lucky, Lyds? Huh? God damn, I love you..."

He was going to lose himself at any moment. He could feel his balls drawing up already. "Oh, I'm close... gonna fill ya up, baby. Fill ya up so full of me... though I guess I already did, huh?"

Wet slaps rung out in quick succession as he neared his end, playing a background to his wife's heated moans. He fucked her with unwavering dedication and she worked with him every bit as adamantly, spurred on by the filthy things he said, the way his bulky form was so perfectly melded against her.

"I'm the lucky one," she corrected, gasping, barely able to string words together for him. "You… you're unreal."

He gave her everything; the things she wanted, the things she needed, the things she didn't know she wanted or needed. Lydia couldn't imagine an existence without him, without their family. How could she have allowed one of his enemies to get close enough to threaten that? The miracle in her womb was all that mattered anymore, the precious spark of creation he was cradling so tenderly as he readied to go for the overkill and seed her yet again with weighty thrusts.

Gritty claws tweaked her pebbled, oversensitive nipples and that was enough for her. Her entire body convulsed, stretched abdominal muscles twitching and legs flexing as she sang her completion to the dungeon. Beneath the spasming tendons, something shuddered, just for a moment, and they both felt it. A sharp, out of rhythm gasp parted her lips further and her tiny palm came to cover his.

Their bug.

Her body falling over the edge, as always, brought him right to the precipice of his own orgasm, a handful more stuttering, faulting thrusts making him moan and curse against her shoulder.

Suddenly there was a movement from deep within her. He froze in the midst of an aftershock, staring down at her with wide eyes. "Buggy... oh my god."

He couldn't help but chuckle, a tired and staggering sound. "Kid's got great timing. Just like her dad." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled free of her body carefully, holding her close in his arms.

In a blink they were back in their bedroom, the linens still crumpled from their playful fight earlier over her leaving for work. He settled her in the bed and settled behind her, his hand pressed tight to her stomach.

"Think it'll happen again? Or did we wake her up fuckin'?"

"I don't know."

Two pairs of hands were settled all around her belly, each limb dead and alive struggling to keep still in its excitement to catch another movement. Both still bright and flushed from fucking around, all the negativity was forgotten in the wake of their bug's wriggling around. They were quiet for a long, perfect moment, wrapped up in one another, waiting. Nothing more happened.

With a happy sigh, Lydia gently detangled from his embrace, reaching from the cocoa butter on her nightstand she'd been rubbing onto her belly nightly in preparation for exactly this.

"Probably just bugged her."

Lydia wasn't convinced buggy was a girl, but she would humor Betelgeuse.

"Want to help?"

He snorted at her pun, shaking his head. "I rubbin' off on you, babes? That sounded a lot like a dad joke."

He reached for the little tub of cocoa butter and rubbed some onto his hands. They smoothed over her stomach firmly, the soft paste melting into her skin like it was starving for it. He settled himself sitting on the floor in front of her, his steady massage moving from her stomach to her hips, then down her thighs until they found her swollen ankles, pressing and rubbing firmly in an attempt to soothe the aching flesh.

"How's that, kitten? I know ya said they've been botherin' ya." He brought one up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of it in a way reminiscent of their wedding night. "My poor Mama Lyds."

Purring, she melted under his attention like she always did. It was still early in the day, but she was ready for another nap. Too much had happened in such a short period.

"Feels good," she murmured, stretched out nude and pliant on the soft sheets as he rubbed her down, easing tension and stress away. Why didn't she want to stay home and let him do this again? Work seemed like a hell of a lot of… well. Work when she had the option to lay around and let him pamper her.

The animals migrated to their room one by one, all but Percy curling up on the rug in a puddle of black and white fur as if drawn in by Lydia's sleepy energy. The prissy housecat, privileged and entitled to be the first baby, settled in on the crimson comforter near mistresses' hand so she could reach him to give scratches.

"Gonna fall 'sleep," she warned as he set in kneading her arches, in case he wasn't already aware. "You don't have to stay."

He always stayed with her until she was out, as per the unspoken agreement. Everything felt calm. It would be just fine to take a nap without forcing him to stay and hover needlessly. She was safe.