Angelina leans forward, clutching her stomach as another contraction hits her. She grits her teeth and waits for it to pass. They're about twenty minutes apart so it's nothing to worry George about right now. Telling him, would only send him into a panic and that is the last thing she needs. It's two weeks to her due date and if she's quite honest, she's glad she didn't have to wait that long for her baby to come. Beside her, Milo, her dog, licks her hand.

"You're more reliable than any man, aren't you, boy?" she mutters, before sitting up straight. The dog just whines next to her. "That's why you're here, isn't it? You know what's happening and you're prepared for it. I wish I could say the same thing about George."

She strokes the dog's head as she waits for the next contraction to hit. This time it doesn't hit at twenty minutes. It hits at fifteen.

"George!" Angelina shouts as Milo began to barks.

"Yes, love?" George answers, poking his head into the room.

"It's time," she tells him. His eyes widen and he stands there for a moment not saying a word. "George!"

"Sorry," he mumbles as he comes to her side and helps her into the bed. "I'll get the midwife and be right back."

"You better be," she grits out, as another contraction hits. "This is your brat that I'm bringing into the world."

Hurriedly, George leaves the room. Angelina rubs her stomach, trying to calm the baby down. However, the effect is the opposite. It kicks her hand roughly and another contraction pulses through her body. Her hands fist in the sheets and she tries to keep from crying out. Milo is at her side again, working his nose under her hand.

"Alright, I'm here," the midwife, Clara, calls. "Get that animal out of here. Do you want it to contaminate the baby?"

Angelina hardly thinks that Milo is going to contaminate her child, but George is already pulling the unwilling dog from the room. Once he shuts the door, he crosses the room in two strides and bends down by her side, much calmer than she had thought he would be. Maybe Clara straightened him out.

"Alright, honey, you're twelve minutes apart," Clara informs her.

Angelina glares at her when she turns her back. She hates being called 'honey'.

"How do you want to do this?" George asks, gently rubbing her hand. They had gone over several positions she could give birth in, even considering a water birth. Angelina had never really made up her mind. She'd thought she had more time.

"I want you to support me," she tells him, breathing hard. This is mainly because she really doesn't want to look at him right now. As gently as he can, George climbs behind her and lets her rest against his chest, his hands in each of hers.

"Alright, hon, it looks like this is going to be a quick one," Clara says. "You're lucky. Most first time mothers send a good two hours in labor. Your little one must be excited to see the world."

Angelina wants to tell this crazy woman that been in having contractions since five this morning. The only thing that stops her is another contraction. Her hands squeeze George's until she realizes that she might be hurting him. He hasn't complained once.

"Good girl," Clara praises her. "Ten minutes apart."

George kisses her forehead. "You're gonna get through this, ok? You both are."

Angelina nods and leans her head against his shoulder. She's really glad she choose this position right now. Her hands rest in George's palms, sweaty, but she's not sure whose sweat it is. George rubs circles on her knuckles while she waits for the next contraction to hit.

"Five minutes apart," the midwife warns. "You best get ready, honey."

Angelina glares at her as best she can through the pain. She wants to get this over with. Her baby needs to fucking hurry up and get out here so she can sleep for two days. The circles on her knuckles start as soon as the contraction passes. Angelina tries to breath through her next contractions, but that's getting harder to do as they get closer and closer together.

"George," she whines softly after one particularly long contraction.

"Talk to her," Clara barks as if she isn't in the room.

"Shh, Angie, it's alright," George comforts her. "You're doing wonderful and soon our beautiful little baby is going to be in the world. Just a bit longer and it will all be over with. I promise. You're almost there."

Angelina screams as another contraction forces it's way up her back. She can't bring herself to care whether they think she's weak or not.

"Alright, hon, push on three," Clara instructs her. "One. . .two. . .three."

Angelina pushes with all her might then, hoping that this will be the last time she has to do it.

"Good, good," she says. "Another one on three. One, two, three."

A scream rips from her throat and she pushes back against George as she tries to relieve the ache in her back.

"One last time," Clara tells her. "Push!"

A wail pierces the room along with Angelina's scream. She slumps back against George, exhausted from what she just experienced.

"You did it, love," George whisper, tears in his voice. "You did it."

Angelina has no reply for him, because Clara has just sat her sweet little baby into her arms and she can concentrate on nothing else.

"It's a boy," Angelina is informed.

"Hi, there, sweet boy," Angelina mutters, running her finger down his tiny face.

"I thought you said he was a brat?" George asks from behind her.

"Oh, he will be, with so many people to spoil him," she answers. "Isn't that right, Freddie?"

"Freddie?" George chokes.

Angelina hadn't really thought when she had said that name, but that's what he looked like. Besides, it seems fitting to name him 'Fred'. It isn't like it was a crime either. If anyone has a right to the name, George does.

"Yeah," she says softly. "If it's ok with you."

"Yeah," he answers. "It is."