Outside in the street, the daffodil sunshine had given way to the ink black of wintry night time. Christmas lights had started to appear, twinkle lights sparkled from various parts of the hospital, showing through half-lit windows through slatted blinds.

Max placed a hand at the base of Zoe's spine, protecting her, ushering her toward the car, pausing at the kerb just outside of the hospital entrance.

"It smells like America."

He said without thinking. Zoe raised an eyebrow. The air smelled of car fumes and wet leaves. The wind blustered, so cold that it overwhelmed the senses, prickling the back of her throat and making her shiver. Standing beneath the stars seemed to make the silent world more real than the world of speech—there was the wail of an ambulance somewhere in the distance within the uproar of the city, and for a moment she was transported to that day that she remembered so well, when they had stood outside this very entrance and he had asked her for a drink. She smiled and glanced at him, waiting for the slow trudge of cars to pass by them.

She smiled again at the thought of how far in the past that day seemed. She hesitated to call either that moment either innocent or youthful, but as she looked at him now, her chin dipped into the roll of her scarf which was wet from her breath, she realised how different he looked now that she knew him so intimately. Now as he stood, softly illuminated by street lights, his face superficially marked with lines, his skin a clear pink, ruddy from the chill of the wind, and his blue eyes had the long-sighted, peaceful expression of eyes seeking the turn of the road, or a distant light through rain, or the darkness of winter. She bit her lip against a smile. He had never appeared to her more concentrated and full of purpose; as if behind his forehead were massed so much experience that he could choose for himself which part of it he would display and which part he would keep to himself.
He turned his head, pushing his other hand deep into his coat pocket. He caught her looking at him.
"What?"
He asked, smiling and arching an eyebrow.
She shook her head.
"Nothing. Just trying to imagine you as a father."
She murmured, lowering her jaw further into the warmth of her scarf.
"Bit weird."
He replied, leaning against her, screwing up his face in amusement.
"Not my father!"
She laughed, the heat of her breath billowing back against her face.
He cleared his throat and made to cross the road but Charlie's voice from behind them caught their attention. He called Zoe's name, the sound only just audible over the wheeze and hiss of a bus that pulled up before them.
They turned, Max's hand still at her back.
Charlie rubbed his hands together as he stepped through the automatic doors of the entrance, out into the night.
"You forgot this."
He held out a piece of paper with a clear plastic bag attached to it and a specimen pot held within it.
"Thanks..."
Zoe plucked it from his grasp and pushed it into her pocket. Charlie smiled.
"And this..."
He retrived an envelope from his own pocket and passed it to her.
"What is it?"
She asked, turning it over in her hands, there was no name on the envelope.
"Oh, it's an invite to a Christmas party that some of the nursing staff are organising. Rita asked me to give it to you."
He said, tucking his arms about his chest and shivering against a skitter of ice cold air that sent sweet wrappers and Styrofoam cups clattering across the pavement at their feet to where they came to rest in the milky brown mud in the gutter at the side of the road.
Zoe opened it, pulling out the brief invitation and scanning it before passing it to Max.
"Are you going?"
She asked. Charlie shook his head.
"I thought I'd leave you youngsters to it."
He murmured.
"Youngsters?!"
Max glanced to Zoe, sucking in his cheeks with an amused smile. She raised her eyebrows.
"Don't even think about saying it."
She nudged him with her elbow and he laughed, a billow of white exhaling from his lips into the air above them.
"Right, I'd better get back..."
Charlie gestured with a nod of the head to back toward the hospital.
"Yes, we'd better get going too."
Max said, he looked toward Zoe's pocket.
"What's the pot for?"
He asked.
"Urine sample."
She said, lowering her voice. He screwed up his nose.
"Come on then."
He said, changing the subject, nodding to Charlie who raised a hand to them and made his way back into the hospital.
They made their way to the car, shoes slapping against the wet tarmac and sending splinters of illuminated rain about their feet like flashes of fireworks on the pavement.
Once at home the flick of the lights and the welcoming, familiar scent of home greeted them. Zoe shrugged off her coat while Max pushed off his shoes with his toes.
"Home sweet home."
He breathed, leaving his shoes by the door and unbuttoning his jacket.
Zoe hung her scarf and coat on the stairs and made her way through into the downstairs cloakroom.
"What're you doing?"
He asked, leaning against the open door frame as she pulled down her tights.
"I'm doing this before I forget about it. I feel like Tess is more in charge of this pregnancy than I am."
She smiled as she spoke but the look in her eye hinted at exhaustion. She undid the plastic bag and removed the specimen pot, unscrewing the white lid and passing it to him to hold as she sat down on the cold seat of the toilet.
"How do you not wee on your hand?"
He asked, tilting his head and frowning, watching her as she sat. She rolled her eyes.
"You aim just below the clitoris."
She said, rolling up her sleeve just in case.
"Really?!"
He frowned again and she smiled.
"Where did you think it came from?"
She asked as she finished, producing the full pot and holding out a hand for the lid.
"I don't know, there's a lot going on down there!"
He said, instead he took the pot from her and screwed it on.
"Now that's true love."
He said, gesturing with the pot.
"Hmm?"
She murmured.
"I'm holding a pot of your wee."
He smirked, watching as she rearranged her clothes and flushed the toilet before washing her hands.
"I love you too."
She whispered, turning and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He smiled against her.
"Is it wrong of me to be slightly aroused?"
He whispered, his lips still pressed against hers. She laughed almost silently.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Go on then."
She breathed, sighing theatrically.
"What?"
He asked as she stepped back from him and reached out a hand for his.
"Upstairs."
She said simply. Watching as the realisation flooded his face. He smiled that slow even smiel that made her stomach wince with pleasure.
"Put that down firs though..."

More soon xxx