A/N: I've started a 'drabble challenge' to keep me writing every day, so if it goes well, I should be posting one drabble a day for a month. I've asked fellow Fringies to give me prompts, so expect a lof of fluff from me, starting now xD Thank you for reading, or to those of you who review! :')
FOOT MASSAGE
"Peter?"
Peter turned his eyes away from the TV, a bit reluctantly. He had never been what you would call a sport fan, but there just was something about hockey. He'd spent almost a year in Canada when he was in his early twenties, and the time he'd spent there had been enough to make him almost as passionate about the sport as any true Canadian. It had faded through the years, but whenever he stumbled upon a hockey game on TV, he simply couldn't resist.
He focused (most) of his attention back on Olivia though, offering her an inquisitive look, immediately noticing the slight scowl on her face. She had piled up a bunch of cushions on the other side of the couch to lean against while she read, her feet on his laps. The open book was now resting upon the very prominent curve of her stomach, and the way she was glaring at him clearly indicated he had done something wrong.
"What?" He frowned, a small surge of panic rising in his chest, mentally and frantically checking for all the things he was supposed to do and may have forgotten.
Being around an almost forty-weeks pregnant, hormonal woman had given him more than enough reason to fear for a sudden unleashing of her emotions. He had bought her the two jars of peanut butter she had requested, though, and when he had taken a shower earlier, he had doubled checked the room, making sure he'd picked up his wet towel from the floor –"How exactly am I supposed to pick up your stuffs when I can barely sit down to pee anymore?!"
"Remember that time I told you about how I wasn't so fond of the way you rubbed my back?" She asked him with a slight note of accusation, as if she still felt offended for all these times he had 'burrowed' his hand into her back, even though it had been over two years ago.
"…yes?" From what he could hear, something exciting had just happened on screen, but he didn't dare look away from Olivia's heated stare, not even to throw a glance at the score.
She sighed exasperatedly, then, throwing her hands in front of her, pointing at… "My feet, Peter!" She exclaimed. "Are you trying to break my toes?"
He looked down at his laps, only realizing now that while his mind had been focused on the game, he had indeed started massaging her feet distractedly. Well, it had been his intentions, anyway.
He looked back at her with a small pout. "I thought pregnant ladies loved foot massages. Swollen ankles and everything."
She huffed humorlessly, swiftly moving her feet away from his loosened grip, slipping her toes under his thigh instead. "After nine months of this, I thought you'd have realized by now that all these pregnancy myths are a bunch of crap. They don't apply to me at all."
And on these words, Olivia settled back deeper into her cushions, bringing her book back up, balancing it on her huge belly, while her other hand went to the jar of pickles. She picked one, which she then dipped into the jar of peanut butter, before pushing the whole thing into her mouth, chewing loudly.
Obviously, they didn't apply to her at all.