A/N: Hello! So I've finished writing this story. I have everything in my doc manager. I wanted to update daily but for Chapter 12 to be posted, I am going to ask for at least one review. Pleeaasseee! :-) Do it for GeCe! Thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 11!
Gunther is really glad that CeCe started talking to him again, glad that he can be in her life again even if—even just as a friend. It's shitty timing though, realizing that he's completely in love with CeCe while finding out that she is pregnant with another man's baby. (And he remembers what it was like, reading the gossip magazines, feeling tense and skeptical and anxious, until he watched CeCe nod and laugh nervously, confirming the rumors. Calling her again and again until she finally picked up so Gunther could ask "Is it – I mean is it – ?" with hope rising in his belly, tight and hot and everything, Christ, only to have CeCe tell him not to worry, that it's not his. That – that felt like getting punched in the gut, the hope flickering out and dying, shriveling. He had no idea it meant that much.)
He realized too late that he was in love with CeCe. Sure, now he knows why he always felt so protective, and so possessive, but it didn't hit him until after CeCe moved into her new house, until CeCe dragged him upstairs and sucked hickies onto his collarbones; he didn't realize until he watched CeCe pass out beside him, exhausted and naked and glowing, her lips parted and fingers curled loosely around his wrist. He knew, then, that he always wanted to fall asleep like this, CeCe within reach, peaceful and sated and content.
That's why he tried to – but she kept pushing him away, ignoring his phone calls and canceling lunch dates. Gunther gets it, he does, especially understanding what CeCe was going through - is going through. He's grateful that she's allowing him this much, the closeness, talking and hanging out again, but he can't help but burn with jealousy every time CeCe puts a protective hand over her belly unconsciously, and wonders who the father is. What kind of an asshole got to have CeCe, got to have all of this, and wasn't even there for her? For them?
It's not – Gunther can deal with it. He just wants to make sure CeCe is okay. From what he's found out, she didn't even go to a doctor until like, the second trimester or something. So really, he's just trying to be a good friend and make sure she doesn't try something crazy, like climb on a ladder to put up Christmas decorations or something. He stops by a convenience store on the way over and buys a few big bags of sour gummy worms, recalling how CeCe had complained about running out a few nights ago during their ritual phone call. ("Don't make fun of me," she had warned when she'd explained her cravings to him, who had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. It was just so typical that CeCe would crave sugar while pregnant – the one girl who rarely ate sugar anymore, of course.
"I didn't say a word," Gunther said in his defense, but he was grinning.
"I can totally hear you all, whatever, smiling," CeCe accused, but instead of laughing Gunther kind of – melted, warmth blooming in his chest and spreading to the rest of his body. His throat felt tight, but then CeCe changed the subject, and he could focus on being normal again.)
She had said she'd leave the door open (after Gunther had invited himself over, when CeCe said "I had people bring the tree in and set it up, but I don't know how I'm going to get the star on top; maybe one of those long hook things? Like how they use at department stores?" and he had this flash image of her accidentally pulling the entire tree down on top of her with the hook and said, "Oh no Jones, no way — I'll come over and help," despite CeCe's protests) so Gunther just turned the handle and walked in, the bags of gummy worms tucked under his arm.
The house is warm and there are boxes in the hallway labeled 'Christmas Decorations! ' that are open, still half full of things CeCe hadn't unpacked yet. "CeCe?" Gunther calls, following the faint sound of Christmas music until it leads him to the living room.
He leans against the doorframe and smiles at the sight that greets him. CeCe is wearing loose black sweat pants and wooly looking socks, and a red sweater that would normally be two sizes too big, but pulls a little over the obvious belly that she is sporting. Gunther can't help but think that pregnancy suits the girl – she's all baby, barely an ounce of actual fat on her, but her face is fuller and softer, and she gets this look sometimes, wistful and anxious and hopeful, and Gunther just wants to wrap his arms around her and tell her its okay.
Her back is turned to him, and she's reaching up to drape a garland of holly across her window, struggling a little on her tip toes. Her voice still pours out, strong and confidant as the carol plays in the background. Gunther smiles and sets the gummy worms down, crossing his arms and listening for a minute before giving in and joining in.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," he sings, sliding his harmony into the second chorus and startling CeCe, who jumps and spins, her eyes as round as her stomach, her hands jerking down. The holly, perched precariously to begin with, falls down around her head, draping along her shoulders and making her look like the lost Christmas elf of the North. Gunther breaks off his singing, bursting into laughter instead at the sight.
"Gunther! Oh my gosh, you scared me," CeCe says, when he stops laughing. "You could have knocked or something!" Her hands are on her hips, her lips pursed and her cheeks flushed. He grins fondly and leans forward (maybe a little too close, if CeCe's quick intake of breath and wide eyes are any indication) to put his hands on the girl's shoulders. He stays there a fraction to long, just smiling at her, his fingers lingering at the place where her neck meets her sweater before he pulls back, lifting the garland of holly from her shoulders.
"You told me the door would be open! And you wouldn't have heard me anyway, singing the way you were," Gunther says, reaching up to string the garland correctly. He stands back and admires his work, elbowing CeCe gently. "Look at that – aren't you glad I'm here?"
He looks over and – and she's staring at him with this weird look on her face, a mysterious half-smile and her eyes far away. Gunther's breath catches in his throat and he stares back, because sometimes, sometimes he used to see that look on her face when they were together, tangled in the sheets and mouths on each other. It was fond and wistful and content all at once, and something else, something he couldn't – didn't understand. Gunther wants to kiss her, his lips burning with phantom sensation, and he leans in –
CeCe seems to snap back to the moment then, looking away from him. She's still smiling though, her eyes bright and happy. "Yeah," she murmurs, "I'm glad you're here.