Heyyyy. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
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Hamilton seemed rather pissed when he came to pick us up.
Thomas was pretty much asleep when he got there, small snoring sounds coming from his bushy hair. His head was resting on the steering wheel, one hand on his stomach.
"I am not picking him up," Alexander said, sounding tetchy. Incredibly tetchy.
"Who put laxatives in your coffee this morning?" I asked testily, pretty pissed myself. He gave me a dirty look. "I'll wake him up."
Lightly tapping his shoulder, I murmured something to him about getting up. He simply mumbled incoherently. Hamilton rolled his eyes and gave him a hard shake. Thomas leapt a foot in the air, yelling about something or other as the horn beeping loudly. Unfortunately, the top of the car door got in the way and he whacked his head on it. He slumped back in the seat, groaning and clutching his head.
"Oh my God, are you okay!?" I yelled, trying to pry his hand away from his head. "Here, baby, let me look."
Trembling a little, he let me see his head. A small bruise was beginning to form, a tiny, shallow cut, but other than that he seemed okay.
"I-is the baby alright?" he stammered, clutching at my hands. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, his breathing quick and panicky. "Sebastian has to be alright!"
"He's fine, Seb- hang on a sec," I said, suddenly stopping as I realising what he'd said. "Sebastian? You've picked out names?"
"Sebastian or Eston for a boy, Martha or Lucy for a girl," he muttered, looking ashamedly at the floor.
"I love them," I replied, completely truthfully as well. He stopped for a moment, then beamed at me after throwing a murderous look Alex's way. "Drive us home now?" I said to Alex, who nodded in a way which can only be described as loathingly.
"Move, Jeffershit," he grumbled, pointing a finger to the back seat.
"Jesus Christ, who shoved a stick up your ass?" Tom shot back, scrambling slowly into the back seat. Hamilton narrowed his eyes and got huffily into the car, slamming the door. Thomas groaned and slung an arm over his eyes.
Alexander pulled out at a ridiculous speed, the tyres squeaking on the tarmac. I gripped the side of the dashboard, glancing back at Tom. He looked terrified, both arms now wrapped securely around his belly.
"Slow down!" I snapped to Hamilton, who gave me a nasty look, but took his foot off of the accelerator a little. Thomas didn't relax.
Thank God the ride home wasn't more than 10 minutes. I didn't think me, Thomas or our unborn child could've handled it for any longer. By the time we got back, Thomas was panting, sitting bolt upright. Hamilton pulled up, the tyres squealing.
"You'll have to walk back," Thomas said, trembling as I helped him out. Hamilton looked disgusted, huffing as he turned on his heel and stalked down the road without so much as a goodbye. I raised my eyebrows and unlocked the door.
"I don't feel so good," Thomas groaned putting a hand to his head. "I think I'm gonna lie down for a bit."
"I'll join you," I replied, and we got changed before crawling into bed together. Thomas was shirtless, dressed in a pair of pyjama trousers, but I still wore a t-shirt. You know why.
"Jemmy?" he whispered. I stopped self-pitying.
"Yeah?" I murmured.
"I'm gonna get fat..."
I sat up in astonishment. He was lying there, staring up at the ceiling as a single tear fell dramatically down his cheek.
"You won't get fat," I reassured him, lying back down. "Just pregnant."
"What's the difference?" he muttered, turning on his side so he was facing the wall and not me. Propping myself up on my elbow, I watched the back of his head sadly. I know not to talk to him when he's like this. My arm began to shake with the strain, and I collapsed back down, trying to snuggle with him. He couldn't help but hold my arms against him.
"There's a lot of difference," I replied quietly.
"There's really not."
"There is."
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
I tickled him incessantly, and he giggled, squirming in my arms.
"Stooooooooooop!" he squealed, jumping up a little and finally facing me. Our faces were close again, and I couldn't help but smile.
"I love you," I said quietly, rubbing our noses together. He smiled back at me. "And our little one."
And we fell asleep again, arms wrapped around each other.
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Jefferson's p.o.v- 1 week later
We had to go back to the hospital again. Of course, it seemed a lot, but hey, I didn't want to hurt the baby, did I?
"You okay?" James called from outside the bedroom. I examined myself in the mirror, tugging at my baggy sweater and sweatpants.
"I look horrible!" I replied, turning away from the mirror and opening the door. James took one look at me and shook his head, chuckling.
"You look beautiful, baby," he said as I pushed my glasses further up my nose.
"You promise I don't look fat?" I fretted, bending down (with difficulty) and pulling my trainers on as I leant my hand on the wall to keep myself upright.
"You look incredible, skinny, glowing, even," he replied, wrapping my coat around me. It was March, after all.
"I'm really sore," I groaned, limping heavily. James gave me a sympathetic look, hooking an arm under my shoulder.
"Do you want the crutches?" he said in a low voice. I looked up in desperation before nodding shortly, tears forming as I shut my eyes. We went over to the car, and James reached into the boot, pulling out the damm crutches. I hate those things so, so much. Hopefully no-one we knew would see us.
When we got to the bus stop, a frail old woman who was clutching a spotted trolley immediately tried to move and vacate her seat, but I waved her off.
"I'm fine," I brushed off, trying to smile at her: it was probably more of a grimance than anything.
"If you're sure," she said in a doddery way, nodding at me. James hooked his arm around me, helping me stay up.
The bus came pretty quickly, but unfortunately, it was one of those high buses that was hard to get on normally, let alone with the damn crutches. The bus driver gave me a look as ws stared pitifully at him and at the doors of the bus.
"Need the ramp?" he asked, gesturing.
"Nooooo," I said patronisingly. "Of course I need the bloody ramp!"
Then I paused. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I'm just having a rough day."
He gave me a smile, motioning to James to help him put down the ramp. James unhooked himself from me and bent down, trying to pull the ramp. Damn boy, that ass be fine... anyway, he managed to get the ramp down and I limped up, plonking myself on the first double seat I saw. A mother was sitting there, rocking her baby in a pushchair. The baby was red-faced crying, and the mother was shushing him, cooing him, trying to stop the tears, but it wasn't working. Then the thoughr occurred to me: what if that was me in a year's time, on a bus with a screaming 6-month-old baby and people giving me strange looks because hey, what's that guy doing with a baby in the middle of the day, all whilst James is out at work earning our keep?
It wasn't something I particularly wanted to think about.
Looking out of the bus window as it pulled out, I gazed at the vast skyscrapers which spiralled upwards to dizzying heights, the hot-dog stands on every corner where the sausages are definitely not 100% pork no matter what they tell you, the millions of tourists with I heart NYC emblazoned on their t-shirts and baseball caps squinting at their maps or snapping pictures on huge cameras slung around their necks. Call me a hopeless romantic, but it's my second home and I love it.
Fiddling with one of the crutches (which were spray-painted purple with gold sparkles), I tried to rest my head on the glass, but the constant vibrations (wow, that sounds incredibly dirty) were giving me a headache so I sat back up.
I suddenly realised something.
"James," I said urgently, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to me, smiling. "I haven't been sick yet today."
He gave me an alarmed look and took my hands in his.
"Do you feel like you're gonna puke?" he asked. I shook my head, my stomach churning at the very thought.
I looked out onto New York City, the greatest city in the world, and wondered what the fuck I was going to do.
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Sorry if the ending is bad. D of E was an ultimate failure, my group got lost (very lost), got given another route then had to be bused in because one of our group twisted their ankle and couldn't walk. Bad, huh? And I had jabs today. So I'm sad. Yay.