"Stop yelling at me!" the Doctor shouted as he stood on one side of their bed.
"You stop yelling at me!" Rose shot back from the other side.
"I'm not the one that started this, am I? You're the one that went off about the bloody throw pillows."
"You don't put them on the bed!"
"I do when I remember!"
"You never remember!"
He groaned. "They aren't a necessity, Rose. I don't remember because we don't need them. We just toss them on the floor at the end of the day anyway. I made the bed, though. See? Bed is made."
"After I told you to."
"What do you want me to say?"
She thought about it, but she couldn't think of anything. He held up his hands and decided to just leave her alone for a while. It was week twenty-eight, the start of her third trimester. It had been hell. She was on more hormone rampages that week than the rest of the pregnancy combined.
Once, she started a row over his tendency to hog the sheets. Another time, she sobbed uncontrollably because she dropped a fork and couldn't bend to pick it up. He tried his best to ride the wave, but it was too much that day.
He retreated to nursery, a place he often went when they weren't getting along. Humming happily, he tweaked the Gallifreyan lettering on the cribs with a craving tool. Once that was done, he messed with the mobiles and the locks. He triple checked the safety proofing in the room, and then he sat down on one of the rockers to read some of the children's books they had purchased. He wanted to practice different accents to keep things interesting.
His dramatic reading was interrupted when Powell rolled through the doggie door. He went beneath the Doctor's feet with sad ears. The Doctor set the book aside and gingerly picked up the small robot.
"What's wrong, boy?"
"Mistress is upset."
"Why? What's she doing?"
"She is watching a film in the movie room with K-9. She is crying profusely."
He hummed thoughtfully, wondering what might have set her off. "Is it the film or is me? Should I break out the oven mitts?"
"Unknown cause."
"Thanks, Powell. Good dog. Stay here. Hide under the cot if you'd like. You know, just in case."
"Affirmative, Master."
The dog went under the cot and he prepared himself for the worst. When he entered the movie room, K-9 was supplying tissues and Rose was bawling at some film. He knocked lightly.
"Rose?"
She looked at him with teary eyes. "Doctor, I've gone bonkers. Look at me! I'm a mess."
He joined her on the couch and placed an arm around her. She kept crying and he looked at the film more closely. "Are you crying at a documentary about the rainforest?"
"They're cutting down trees and these little birds were left without a home. Not to mention the poor monkeys. Have you seen the monkeys?"
"I've seen the monkeys. Why don't we watch a happy film? Maybe cartoons?"
She sniffed. "That might be nice…"
He used his sonic screwdriver to change it to a cartoon about dogs and cats becoming friends. She started to cry again and he blinked in confusion. "What's wrong now?"
"It's so sweet."
"Oh, so those are happy tears?"
"Yes…" she paused and sobbed harder. "I hate these hormone attacks!"
"Just keep it together a little longer."
She looked at him sadly. "I'm doing the best I can. I don't even know why I get cross about stupid things. I hate the throw pillows."
"Then why did you yell at me about them?"
"Honestly? I haven't the slightest idea."
He started to laugh and she hit him at first. That made him laugh harder and she suddenly joined in. They laughed for five minutes straight until they had to catch their breath. She leaned against him with a sigh.
"I'm lucky to have you, Doctor. Thanks for being so understanding."
"You're very welcome. Although, you've scared the puppy to death. He's hiding in the nursery."
"Oh no," she whispered, giggling. "I am pretty scary right now, aren't I?"
"Pretty scary? No, not scary. Just the other part."
"Stop flirting."
"What? Flirting? I wasn't flirting."
"You so were! You were being sweet. Don't do that. I'll start crying again."
He frowned. "So you don't want me to be sweet. How about nice?"
"No. But not mean either. I'll start yelling and then I'll start crying."
"So…not nice, sweet, or mean. How about apathetic?"
"No. You'll seem uninterested and I'll become worried that you don't love me and I'll—"
"Start crying," he provided. "Maybe I should just leave you to the film."
Her eyes grew wide. "Why?"
"Well, if I stay, it sounds like you're going to cry."
"But if you go I will."
His fingertips went to his forehead. "Okay…just tell me what to do."
"Pass the tissue box and rewind the cat film. Be ready for tears into your shoulder."
He smirked and hit the rewind button while K-9 passed the tissue box. They watched the entire cartoon as she cried into his shirt, and once it was over she was thankfully all cried out. He helped her into bed and disposed of the awful throw pillows before climbing in beside her. She kissed him lightly.
"Sorry about today."
"Don't say sorry. It's not your fault. Biology is to blame."
She webbed her fingers with his, whispering, "What's happening with our children now?"
"How do you mean?"
"Developmentally."
He grinned. "They're dreaming."
"Dreaming? Like we dream?"
His head nodded and he put his other hand on her baby bump. "They can go into REM now. Actual dreams. Isn't that something? I wonder what they dream about. We take things from our everyday life to create our dreams. So, do they just dream about the womb and their sibling? Or do they somehow dream of something more?"
"I think it's something more. The whole universe. What is, what was, what could be, what must not…that's how you see the world. I bet that's how they see it too."
He grimaced. "I hope not. It's not the best."
"But it makes you who you are. They shouldn't be all human, you know. They should have Gallifrey in them. They won't be alone in that and neither will you."
"Don't do that."
She glared. "Do what?"
"Say that. You're going to make me cry. I don't cry. I'm a manly man with manly man hands."
"You're a softy at hearts. You know you are."
He smirked and thought about it. "Well…maybe a bit. Just a bit. But don't mistake that for nice. I'm not nice."
"Right. You're ruthless. The Oncoming Storm."
"And you're unstoppable. The Bad Wolf."
"Does that mean that we're having pups instead of babies?"
"Well, we did call them wolf-dogs…"
They held their serious faces for a moment and then died with laughter. She settled down beside him with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her, drifting into a light sleep. It didn't last long, since their kids decided to dance in the middle of the night. The kicks made her wake up every thirty minutes, setting the stage for another day full of hormone attacks and sleep deprivation. The Doctor woke well rested, sighing when the shouting started.
"Did you leave the seat up?"
"Blimey, here we go…" he muttered.
They couldn't wait for the pregnancy to be over.