Chapter Three: As Long as You're Mine // Wicked

The sun had been showing through the blinds for several hours before Will finally pulled himself out of bed. He smiled at Emma, who he hoped would remain asleep for a bit longer after their previous night of completely mind-blowing sex. She had been so exhausted afterwords that she fell asleep without showering or changing the sheets, which he supposed she would gripe about later on, 'sleeping in filth,' yaddah yaddah yaddah. Running a hand through her fiery hair, he kissed the top of her head and cleaned himself off with a cold shower, ate brunch and worked on overdue Glee paperwork.

The afternoon rolled on and it was pushing three o'clock, but Emma still wasn't up. Deciding that she had enough sleep, Will attempted to wake her. After sweetly saying her name and kissing her several times to no avail, he gently shook her shoulders, speaking louder until she finally stirred.

"Guhh, no..." She moaned, turning onto her stomach and pulling the blankets over her head.

"Em, it's three in the afternoon. You've been sleeping for fourteen hours."

This got her attention as she sat up, staring at the clock in disbelief, "What? I never even slept this late in college."

"Hello to you too," Will laughed, pulling her into his lap. She yelped once she realized she wasn't wearing any clothes.

"You let me sleep without taking a shower? And we slept on filthy sheets? Will! Oh, this is so wrong. So, so wrong," she started muttering and pacing around the room until she found something to slip into before heading to her sanctuary, sticking her tongue out at her husband and closed the door, running the water and scrubbing her skin clean.

While she did this, Will changed the sheets, made the bed, and laid on it until she came out, hair still dripping down her back.

"Thanks," she murmured, noticing him laying on fresh blankets, "Sorry. I really can't believe I slept that long, though." She found her Saturday clothes of sweat pants and a t-shirt with her alma matter on it. Once dressed, she crawled up the bed until she was spread on top of his chest.

Will's hand rubbed absent-mindedly up and down her spine, "We should probably be doing something productive."

Emma shook her head, her favorite Saturday activity—aside from mopping the kitchen floor—was laying with her husband and doing nothing. She raised her lips to cover his, her wet hair tickling his cheeks. Will's hands moved from her back to her face, pulling her out and taking in the sight of her makeup-less face. She was always stunning, he decided, whether all dolled up or looking like a college student with not enough hours in the day.

She smiled down at him before her stomach started talking and the realization she hadn't eaten since yesterday's lunch took over her desire to make out with her husband. Rolling off, she took his hand, "Let's go make something."

"We could make something right here," he said, attempting to pull her back towards him, but she was already down the hall laughing before he could capture her in another kiss. Will followed her like a defeated puppy, "What are you in the mood for?"

Emma tapped her fingers on the handle of the refrigerator, "We could be really crazy and make some spaghetti."

"Oh, that'd just be insane," Will agreed, he loved cooking with Emma. She was always so precise about measurements and meticulous when it came to the process of actually making the food. Everything was stirred so thoroughly, baked just long enough and tasted so damn good, even if it was something simple. The first time his parents had come over they raved for days afterwords about how wonderful everything was. He laughed a bit at the memory, she had been so stressed out...

"Oh, gosh, Will, could you pass me the salt?" Her hands were up and fingers separated, his warning sign of oncoming panic.

He obliged, "Calm down, sweetie. They're going to love you—"

"I essentially refused to come over to their house and they're probably going to think I'm some sort of psycho and won't be able to fathom why their wonderful son would want to spend anytime around me and they're going to—"

Will set down the wooden spoon he had been holding and put his hands on her waist, "I didn't tell them you wouldn't be comfortable at their house...I just said that you had wanted to cook for them. My mom was thrilled, and I explained to her that you liked things clean and orderly, she said you sounded sensible and can't wait to meet you. It's going to be fine." Emma let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, of course Will had everything taken care of.

When his parent's arrived, Emma was pleasantly surprised to see them take off their shoes at the door, less dirt on her freshly vacuumed carpets, and hug their son. They introduced themselves without handshakes—Will's doing, she assumed—and talked comfortably in the living room—about where she came from, how long she had been working at McKinley and other topics of small talk—until dinner was ready.

She set the organic turkey, seasoned with her own special mix, on the table, followed by home-made corn bread and fresh green beans and mashed potatoes. Mr. and Mrs. Schuester couldn't stop complimenting the deliciousness of the meal, causing her to blush quite often, politely thanking them. Will discussed Glee, inviting his parent's to their next invitational; they asked Emma about her involvement in the organization and they ended the meal with embarrassing stories of Will's childhood which had Emma laughing and gasping in horror at the same time.

When they finished, Emma put leftovers in her plastic containers, dating them and lining them neatly on the fridge shelf.

The only part of the night that Emma would have preferred not happening was when Will's mother insisted on helping with the dishes, she had attempted to protest, "Oh, no, I can do it, no big deal—"

"Nonsense, you cooked, I can help you clean up."

She did not like the idea of someone else cleaning for her, "Well, I, uh...it's just that I really, can't...they have to be really clean, not that you wouldn't you know, make them clean I just—"

Will rescued her as always, "Don't worry about it mom, you and dad can have a sit out in the living room, we'll take care of it."

Emma thanked Will with her eyes, and shortly after they were done, she served the pineapple-upside-down cake she'd made that afternoon.

When he talked to his mom the next day, she had only one thing to ask, "So when are you going to ask her to marry you?"

Emma was cutting up fresh vegetables for her home-made sauce when he snapped back to reality, stealing one of her tomato slices and kissing her cheek, "You never sang to me, you know."

She shook her head with a smile, slightly damp hair falling in her face, "I wasn't really planning on it."

"We had a deal," Will poured the noodles into the pan of water that had started boiling.

"Oh, did we?" She slowly stirred her veggies into the sauce pan, covered it and leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.

He took her hands and started to slow dance with her, "Too bad we don't have any music."

Sighing, she rested her arms around his neck, "Kiss me to fiercely, hold me to tight...I need help believing you're with me tonight."

Will smiled happily as she sang her sweet soprano. They had gone to New York for a week in the summer and he'd taken her to Wicked. She'd laughed and cried, clearly connecting with the main character; someone who wasn't always popular or seen as pretty, except by one certain boy who was with another girl. Emma had listened to the soundtrack for weeks after, they had sung this particular track a few times in the car on the way to work, but this was the first she was singing without the disc. He loved it.

"My wildest dreams could not foresee lying beside you, with you wanting me...and just for this moment, as long as you're mine, I've lost all resistance and crossed all borderlines...and if it turns out, it's over to fast, I'll make every last moment last....as long as you're mine..."

Will twirled her around as he took over the male lead, "Maybe I'm brainless, maybe I'm wise. But you've got me seeing through different eyes. Somehow I've fallen under your spell, and somehow, I'm feeling it's up that I fell."

They spun around, holding tightly to one another as they sang the chorus in harmony, "Every moment, as long as you're mine, I waken my body and make up for lost time, say there's no future, for us, as a pair. And though I may know, I don't care. Just for this moment, as long as you're mine, come be how you want to, and see how bright we shine. Borrow the moonlight until it is through, and know I'll be here, holding you. As long as you're mine!"

Finishing with a passionate kiss, Emma pulled out first, asking breathlessly, "How was that?"

"Beautiful, Em, absolutely beautiful."

She blushed and kissed him again, then turned to finish their dinner.

Emma brought her hand to her chest shortly after the dishes were dried and put away, "A few days ago, you mentioned you know you're getting older when time flies by...I think getting heartburn after every meal is another one of those things."

Will wasn't sure if he should laugh, he didn't like the idea of his wife in pain, "Those darn tomatoes, eh?"

"Must be," she sighed, flopping gracefully into the couch, "And I'm tired all the time...no one told me aging is painful."

"Emma," He laughed, "You're thirty-one. That's hardly aging." He dropped his head into her lap and she massaged his scalp, "If you're old, then what am I?"

"Gosh, Will. I might have to invest in a walker for you soon...only I guess we'd have to get two because they can't be the most sanitary devices ever created, I mean, they're scrapped against every surface the old folks walk across, like shoes. You don't wear shoes in the house, so it would only make since to have—" She was cut of by Will's finger across her lips, realizing she was babbling, she yawned an apology.

"How on earth are you tired? You just woke up not even two hours ago," He moved his finger to stroke her cheek.

"I don't know..." Her mind wandered, "I don't know."

Emma hadn't been able to make it past eight that night and Will was starting to grow concerned with her physical behavior over the past few days. He woke up at four AM the following morning to the sounds of hysteria, frantically, he looked next to him to see an empty bed and the bathroom light on. Emma was bent over the toilet again, only this time, she was actually emptying her stomach's contents into it.

Will sat on the ledge of the bathtub next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there. He winced as her purging continued, tears streaming down her face.

When it finally seemed she was finished, Will pulled out a bottle of mouthwash, which she took instantly, rinsing and spitting repeatedly. She brushed her teeth, used the mouthwash and brushed again. As she rinsed for the last time, Will turned on the hot water, knowing she would be showering.

She tore off her clothing, sniffling and trying not to burst into hysterical sobs as she stepped into the warm water. Will caught her hand first, "I'm here when you're done."

Emma nodded, he sat on top of the counter, sighing silently. The water turned off minutes later, and he stood with a towel, which she stepped into and he wrapped it around her into a strong hug as she cried into his chest. He whispered meaningless phrases to her, trying to convince her that it was okay.

However, six o'clock rolled around and he found it was not okay as she had sprinted once again to the bathroom. Eight and eleven o'clock confirmed it.

After her fourth shower, Will insisted she lay down on the couch as he stroked her wet hair. No more then five minutes had gone by when she fell asleep before he could convince her to attempt to eat something.

The few times she had woken throughout the day, Will made his best attempts to persuade her into going to the local PromptCare clinic, but she had refused, claiming it was probably just a "24-hour bug," and that she'd, "be fine tomorrow."

Displeased but understanding her desire not to go their town's rundown clinic, "I'd probably get sicker going there," she claimed, Will accepted her decision.

The evening and early Monday morning had brought two more episodes of minor hysteria. Will insisted that Emma at least stay home from work to which she agreed — throwing up at school did not sound like any more fun then in the safety of her own home.

While he was physically at school that day, his mind was at home with Emma. He called between each passing period, mostly making sure she wasn't hyperventilating. She said she was actually feeling slightly better, which improved his focus until lunch, when Sue had cornered him in the teacher's lounge.

"Schuester, where's your crazy wife?"

Ignoring the crazy comment, knowing it would get him nowhere to argue about it, "At home. Sick."

"Throwing up, no doubt?"

"Yeah...is there some sort of virus going around that—?"

Sue shrugged, "Not one I know of."

Will's eyes narrowed, "Then how would you know—"

With a look that screamed 'it's painfully obvious,' the Cheerios coach glanced at the clock, "I'm kind of in a hurry, you know, big plans for my winning team, but come by my office after school and we'll chat it out."

The rest of the day became a complete blur after the encounter. How would Sue know what was wrong?

He nervously entered her office after the last bell.

"Have a seat, William. I'm honestly shocked that you and Bambi can be so blind to what is going on in your lives."

"Sue, what are you talking about?"

She smirked, opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a slim, pink, cardboard box, not letting him see exactly what it was until she said, "I started keeping these around after last year's little event with Quinn Fabray," Will's eyes widened a bit, knowing she would only mention Quinn for one thing, "Figured I could avoid a whole lot of unnecessary garbage from my team by forcing them to take one of these bad boy's every couple of weeks to scare them out of their sex-driven lifestyle. Work's like a charm. But I'm going to give this one to you, Schuester."

"Oh, God," he put his head in his hands as she set the box in front of him.

"I thought it was pretty obvious. Mood swings are usually the first sign, bit of nausea and heartburn...vomiting, I imagine that's just a real treat for the two of you. I swear I even noticed a blemish on her sweet face on Friday. It's quite clear that the two of you are little sex bunnies, always so happy and—"

"Sue, stop," Will took the box into his hands. She was right and he knew it. Everything fit, but this wasn't something he was prepared to deal with.

"Alright, Schuester, let me just cut to the chase and I'll leave you to attend to your pregnant wife," he flinched at the word the word, "You're going to go home and convince her to pee on the stick. You'll wait a few minutes, and she'll probably make you look at it, and then she'll burst into hysterical tears when she hears you utter the dreaded words confirming my suspicion. You're going to hold her while she cries and then leave her alone for a little bit. She'll probably look catatonic, but she'll be fine. You'll talk about your options and once you convince her that she's going to be a great mom, you'll hug it out and go to bed." She stood up, "It'll be fine, William." With that Sue left him in the office alone and baffled.

He stuck the test into his work bag, went to the choir room, where Rachel was leading the rest of the group in running through their completed songs for Reigonals. He asked them to continue to practice on their own and drove home in silence; the calm before the storm.

Emma was up and dusting the entertainment stand when he arrived, "Hey," She smiled, looking adorable with her hair pulled back in an uncharacteristic messy bun as he took off his shoes and locked the door, "You're here early. I think I'm pretty much over whatever it was—"

Will took a few calming breaths before he interrupted her, "Emma, I don't think you're over it."

She gave him a strange look and walked closer before he pulled her towards him, arms holding her tight, "Will, what's wrong? What do you mean I'm not over it? I haven't gotten sick in—"

"Emma," He pulled her back to look her square in the eyes, "Whatever happens, I want you to know that I love you, no matter what," she looked ready to question him again, but he pulled her onto the couch and reached into his work bag, "I...for whatever reason, Sue asked to talk to me when school was over. She said some things...and I think what she was saying makes sense, and she gave me...I don't really know how to say this, but, uh...well, maybe I should just show you." He picked the small box out and handed it to her.

Emma's jaw dropped, eyes widened and her breathing became quick, "Wh-what? No, no, no, no, no. This, this isn't, this isn't h-happening," she shoved the box into his hands, "I can't, it's not...we can't...Will, we were very careful! I'm not—I can't be!" She stood and began pacing, continuing to eject incoherent statements. Will grabbed her hand.

"All the symptoms fit. Your mood swings, nausea, tiredness, breaking out, throwing up...when was your last—"

He didn't need to finish asking before she nearly fell back onto the couch, "Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh God."

His arms wound around her again, "Why don't you take the test, just to be sure—"

"WILL!" He didn't know her eyes could get any bigger, "I can't! I can't, I can't take that test!"

"Emma—"

Her head swung back and forth, "No, no, no. I'm not going to...pee on...a stick! I can't, I can't!"

Trying to maintain his patience, Will gave her a second option, "We could always go to the hospital and they could do a blood test."

Emma's glossy eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he was joking. Finding none, her shaking fingers clasped the box from the coffee table, "I...this might, it might t-take me awhile," her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her as she stood on wobbly legs, forcing herself to the bathroom.

When she closed the door, she slid down it, tears streaming down her cheeks. She did her best to convince herself that it would be negative and everything would be okay.

Allowing herself to pee on the tiny white stick was something that she would add to her mental list of things she never wanted to do again. She set three layers of wipes on the counter to rest it on while she scrubbed her hands for a solid three minutes.

Will was laying on the couch when she'd finally emerged from the bathroom a half an hour later.

"I-I couldn't look at it," She mumbled into his shoulder, "Can you?"

He nodded, kissing her temple, "Remember, whatever it is...I love you. I'm here."

Will starred at the results. There it was — a tiny plus sign.

A whirlwind of emotions went through his mind as he took in the sight, He wanted to be a father, he sure as hell did, but he knew that Emma was far from ready to be a mother. With his hundredth sigh of the day, he turned to his wife, "Em? Sweetheart, it-it's positive. You're pregnant."

As Sue had predicted, Emma burst into tears. Will moved them to the window seat in their bedroom where held her shaking frame.

He stared out the glass pane. It had started snowing lightly on his way home from work and it seemed to be falling in heaps. Will stroked her hair, her arms, her back as she continued to cry. "Emma..."

Another half hour had passed when her sobs began to fade and the tears stopped flowing, "W-Will? I...I..."

He sat up, swinging his legs out from under hers, "I'll be in the kitchen," He kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," She whispered.

As he left, she brought her knees to her chest and twisted her arms around them, taking her turn to stare at the falling flakes, feeling her life fall out of control with each one that stuck to the ground.

This was kind of shit, but okay, it's done. I was dreading this chapter, but it turned out better then I thought it would.

And I'm real effin' dumb, reposted twice because of it.

Next chapter will be epic fluff, I promise.

Notes in the profile.