Done out of request on tumblr
"Jeremy, are you awake?"
The words are whispered with a quiet insistence, floating over in the near-darkness to reach the blond on the other side of the bed.
There is a moment of silence. "I am now." These words are also whispered, tinged with a hint of purposeful annoyance. They gently tell her that he isn't pleased at being woken up.
"Oh. Sorry."
Jeremy is curled up in the darkness, exhausted and stiff, on the tiniest sliver of bed he possesses. During the night Aelita scoots and twists and turns, pushing Jeremy until he is somehow on the very edge of the mattress. There is room for two more people on the other side. But he is too tired, and knows that she is also tired, so he doesn't wake her up or try and roll her over. He stretches out and just tries not to fall off.
This, however, coupled with her urging him out of sleep is pushing him closer to irritation. He tries not to mind. It's not like he was getting great sleep, anyway. It was fitful and light—waking him up isn't hard. He doesn't have to make an effort to stay up now that he's woken; he's not comfortable enough to fall asleep and senses that she has something more to say. It takes almost a full minute.
"I want ice cream," she sighs at last.
Jeremy is turned away from her. She is latched on to his back, so he is reluctant to move, but he also wants to look at her with exasperation.
"Ice cream," he repeats. He shouldn't be surprised. It is actually one of her more orthodox cravings, compared to peanut butter and marshmallows, but still…
"Chocolate," she specifies. He can feel her shifting against him so he turns, half pushing himself up. She's on her back. Even though the lack of glasses and light reduces her figure to a dark and blurry shape, he directs a look of incredulity at her, wondering if she can see it.
He turns to the alarm clock, stretching closer to peer at it. This only serves to increase his exasperation. "It's the middle of the night." He struggles not to moan. He knows he will be the one getting out of the warm bed, and shuffling across the cold kitchen floor to get her food.
"So it is," she replies. He falls back onto the bed with a sigh, simultaneously snatching his glasses of the nightstand with practiced ease. He slides them on, lying on his back, and the blurry shapes around him sharpen slightly into focus. A bit of his left side hangs off the bed.
"How many?" he asks finally.
She looks at him questioningly.
He turns to her. They're still pressed together, so their noses almost touch when he does so. He can feel her hot breath on his cheeks. "Scoops. How many?"
Her face breaks into a grateful, tired smile. He sees a movement and knows that she is subconsciously rubbing her bulging tummy. "Three should be fine."
He nods and moans softly as he pulls himself upright. The bed creaks in quiet sympathy.
This is the last thing he wants to do. They'd been scrambling to baby-proof the apartment and gather the necessary things for the baby, read all the pamphlets and cram as much information insider their heads as they could without forgetting. On top of all the wild buying and research, Aelita's emotional state was horrid—happy one moment and sad the next, then furious or impatient. During their recent trip to Walmart he'd been almost certain that she had been about to bite cashier's head off. Then he was stricken as she had burst into tears over breakfast. Aelita's rapidly changing moods not only strained her, but Jeremy as well, who received the brunt of all the emotion.
All of this created heavy stress and exhaustion for them both, so Jeremy definitely did not want to fix Aelita ice cream at 12am.
But that's just the kind of good husband he is.
An unwilling yawn is torn from his mouth as he pads into the kitchen. He hears more footsteps and suddenly Aelita is behind him, shivering slightly in her tank top and undergarments.
"Why are you up?" He speaks quietly. He expects her to stay in bed until he brings the ice cream to her.
"Bathroom," she responds sleepily, and staggers off in the opposite direction. Jeremy shakes his head and turns the kitchen light on, hissing quietly with annoyance as it almost blinds him. He hates it, but he can't fix ice cream in almost pitch-blackness.
A few minutes later he hears the toilet flushing and they meet back again on the couch. The brightness and cold has undone his comfortable sleepiness, so he doesn't mind sitting here instead of going back to bed.
"Mm, thank you," she says earnestly as he hands her the bowl. She begins eating immediately, simultaneously shivering. Earlier he vaguely remembers her wearing pants to bed, like himself, but kicking them off sometime in the night. She looks like she regrets it now; he can see goose bumps on her bare legs.
He leaves and quickly returns with a blanket. Smiling gratefully for the third time tonight—er, this morning—she allows him to drape it over her.
"Thanks" she mumbles around the ice cream. One of the scoops is gone.
He settles in next to her. She stops wolfing for a moment and looks up at his weary face.
"Have some."
He's been staring off into space dazedly; her statement snaps him awake. "Huh? Uh, no thanks."
"Have some," she repeats, carving a blob of the chocolaty treat onto her spoon.
"Thanks, but I don't wa—ah—mmf." His statement is cut off as she turns her wrist sharply, depositing the spoon and ice cream into his mouth. Instinctively, his lips clamp down on it, and she slides the spoon out of his mouth with a look of satisfaction on her face.
She giggles at his startled expression. Looking at her with amusement, he runs it around with his tongue until it melts, now completing the cycle of coldness throughout his body. It tastes nice and sweet but he doesn't want anymore, which is fortunate because her gusto has suddenly returned. He knows she will share more if he asks, though.
He puts an arm around her and waits until she finishes. The kitchen bulb is still on, spilling pale light into the darker living room and throwing shadows across their faces.
"Better?" he asks when she sighs and leans her head on his shoulder.
"Much. Thank you." The spoon clatters slightly as she sets the bowl aside. They sit there for a while, dazed and in silence. Their spot on the couch has become warm and comfortable now. He doesn't want to leave. But he hears her breathing even out and though he hates to do it, gently rouses her.
"Bed," he says simply. He throws off the blanket and helps her up, resting a hand on her belly as he does so. She leans obediently against him and stumbles, now just as exhausted as him, over to bed and falls onto it. He pulls the covers around her shoulder and tucks them. She murmurs something; he thinks it is another "thanks".
She's left him a bit more room this time, so he doesn't have to pull his arms and legs uncomfortably close to his body. The bed isn't as warm as it was several minutes ago, but they can fix that.
"Goodnight," Jeremy mumbles as he takes off his glasses and slides closer to her.
She's asleep. He puts a drowsy kiss on her cheek and slips an arm around her, so his hand eventually comes to rest on her tummy.
"I love you. Both of you," he whispers. The words, soft as they are, ring powerfully in the darkness.
And then he sinks into sleep.