ᴍɪsᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ (wisdoms) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-04-04 20:39:00 |
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Yoga to keep zen. Must be a frozen day in hell, or just the motions of carrying some kind of weighty sports ball around the midsection containing a lifeform that liked to get cozy right up in those ribs - made breathing a liiiiittle bit uncomfortable. But Zatanna had provided a soothing outlet for those snappy moods that didn’t involve a fireball death explosions (energy expulsion like that would probably make her water break at this rate), and Lina would admit that the practice of it had its merits. Still missed the fireballing though. Deeply. Anyway, it meant the crabbiness was a little more controlled nowadays. Sometimes there was a deep furrow of her brows present, a telltale sign of discomfort, but that was how it’d be for the last stretch of this womb-baking journey and the best thing to do was suck it up and keep as distracted as possible. On the coffee table was a pack of double-stuffed oreos, a tall glass of milk, a new book that was scribbled with all sorts of notes and symbols (for her second set of dreams, as all these events had a new twist), and she was on the floor with her back pressed against the couch scrawling away at the sheets of paper. Her hair had gotten longer too - yay, hormones and shit - styled in shiny waves bunched into a side ponytail, and her wardrobe was of patterned leggings and a maternity blouse, styled to make the protruding bump flattering. The motherhood look carried well with her, and made her less of Little Tits and more Some Tits. Guess hopped onto the surface, then promptly stuck her face into the glass of milk. “Hey, Peeeeeete,” she sighed, swatting the cat. “Can you feed this fatass??” Wait a minute. “I meant the cat, if you needed clarification.” Where the bloody fuck had the time gone, seriously? Wisdom had no idea. Seemed like only yesterday they were in New Orleans to explain how Lina died and then came back (at least, after moving to the OC, her family had a better understanding of why they’d even hear something like that in the first place), and she revealed news of her pregnancy. He owed her a TV, and then again later after the episode with the berserker dagger - well, they were on their third TV now so he wouldn’t knock it. Even Christmas seemed like only yesterday. Now, his fiery fiancee looked about ready to pop. He knew she must be uncomfortable. Pregnancy changed a woman’s body in ways he couldn’t even imagine, and being that this was their first child he had probably gone overboard with the research but not only did pregnancy change you, there was just so much that could go wrong. Of course it worried him. Women were truly brave creatures for enduring this shit nature bestowed on them though, really they were. And of course he’d feed the cat. He tried to make things as easy as possible for Lina. “I thought she had enough blubber to go into hibernation but alright,” he said as he came down the stairs and opened a can of food. The sound of it caused Guess to zoom into the kitchen like her furry bum had been stung by a bee, sitting there patiently as she looked up and appeared irritated about how it was taking too long to plop her Fancy Feast into a bowl. “Do you need anything else?” he asked. “How are your feet? I’m putting together an aftercare basket for you and I put lotion in it. It’s supposed to revitalise tired feet.” Being prepared was important, alright, because you got so busy with the nursery and baby shower shit, things for the sprog itself, that you forgot to stock up on the right bath salts and creams. Man, they needed to start investing into some Fancy Feast: Lite for that rotund creature if such a thing even existed. “Thaaaaanks. Getting up’s just a bitch,” she said, nose scrunched a little sheepishly. If she were up waddling around, sure, no problem in providing the housepet her right to sustenance - but standing took several attempts and was a work out on its own. She’d call it a ‘cool down’ exercise from yoga with Zee. Foot lotion to revitalize feet, though? That was hysterically specific, and she set down her pen to cross her arms - her belly could be used as a forearm rest too, and doubled its efficiency as being used as a table. Lina squinted those devil eyes up at him in amusement. “An aftercare basket. Did Leliana convince you to join her Pinterest Ways?” She hoped the basket had a bottle of Jack Daniels. Or at least beer. With a side of cookies. “What? I don’t even know what Pinterest is,” Pete snorted, tossing the empty can into the rubbish bin now that Fatso was chowing down, her face buried in her food bowl. Honestly, this cat. Keep it up and Guess jumping on anyone’s lap meant that they needed to prepare themselves for potentially crushed bones. He was just trying to help, since his useless male physiology meant that he was, well, useless. When it came to carrying the baby and giving birth, that is. Regardless, he’d be there and supportive - in addition to snapping at fuckers who tried to harass Lina’s belly (she wasn’t Buddha, strangers didn’t get to rub it) and preparing various bank accounts for Amelia’s college fund eighteen years in advance. All he wanted was to be a good father - and nothing like his own had been. “It’s got, ah...” First he actually had to find the basket, which he’d stashed in the other room. But most notably, he brought back the lotion. “Herbal tea to increase breastmilk production - “ Breastmilk production, alright then, “...granola bars, dark chocolate biscuits, bath herbs, a pair of new pyjamas, and this is nipple butter. Do you think you’d might need that?” Never in a million years did she ever think terms like ‘breastmilk production’ and ‘nipple butter’ would ever come out of Pete Wisdom’s very English mouth, every word caressed with the accent she was a sucker for. Okay, really, her jaw dropped a little. There might have been a twitch too. It was cute, make no mistake. The whole thought that went behind the package. It was one of the sweetest things to do and obviously he did his research, carefully hand-selecting all the goods to go with it to help make things smoother after the poppin’ and squeezin’ happened. That look of amusement became conflicted when the emotion of what the hell surfaced, but the amusement won - cemented by burst of giggles that followed. “Alrighty then, I’m gonna need you to help me up,” Lina grinned, pushing the coffee table forward to allow some space. “Part of me might want to hit you but I think the urge to hug you might outweigh that?” All those items were so functional and necessary - but sounded so unattractive at once. “I also need to record you saying nipple butter, for reasons.” “If you hit me I’ll phone the police and report domestic abuse and then someone might owe another television,” Wisdom deadpanned dryly and, for the record, that was the last time he’d say ‘nipple butter.’ It was difficult enough the first go at it - then again, if you couldn’t discuss shit like that (and all the other unattractive aspects of giving birth, no one said the miracle of life was aesthetically appealing) with your partner, then what was the point? But he scooted closer to help Lina up, an arm slung behind her to steady her so she could waddle to her feet. But he didn’t think she needed to be on them for very long. “I’ll just stick with the lotion for now, if you want me to tend to your aching doggies.” He had heat packs in there too. Really, this was diligent research and she’d thank him later even if there were snorts n’giggles about breastmilk now. At least he didn’t talk about relief for the sore bum that would no doubt be a thing. Mostly she wanted to be up to circle her arms around his neck, yank him down for a little smooch to the mouth - it was appreciative, maybe a little sassy with a light bite the bottom lip. Another thing about this whole shebang: unrivaled horniness, though Lina couldn’t wait for the day that she could tackle him in bed without an intrusive stomach. “Thank you, and you’re adorable,” she smirked, patting his cheek, and then pulled him down on the couch with her. Kinda awkwardly, thanks to the weight and gravity or shit like that, but she’d get herself comfy with her fiance. He was a heating pad, she’d just lean against him when her back ached. “But that’s an offer I can’t refuse. You can tell me how they look. I haven’t seen those bastard toes in awhile.” They wiggled, those piggies. The sorceress did her best to keep off ‘em anyway, she still wanted to do her best to fit into her shoes. Wisdom chuckled, the sound a gravelly rumble in his throat as he was pulled onto the couch. It was true, he ran at higher temperatures than most - his hands were good for massages, at the very least. For ones given to the piggies, pressing on certain spots could lead to contractions (and that was the last thing they needed - Amelia was still developing in her cosy waterbed) but he knew where to avoid. “They look lovely, just like the rest of you,” he assured, uncapping the lotion that smelled....zingy. A good word for it. Probably had ginger there, maybe eucalyptus. Feet in his lap, he got comfortable in his spot and coated his heat-missile hands with a good amount of the stuff; it might evaporate faster (and in addition to those hot, hot hands he was always absorbing energy, it was part of his mutation), but that was alright. The horniness was also more than fine with him - just meant they had to be creative with positions the further along Lina got. From behind, now that was a popular one (and a favourite). “Your yoga’s been helping you too?” “Never thought I’d be join the yoga bandwagon but,” a little squeaky grunt, while she pushed the accent pillows behind her to be propped up, at an angle. “It helps?” Lina wouldn’t care to join a group prenatal class like that or anything; too many hippies that’d knock on her nerves, but she was at least comfortable with Zatanna. “You’re never allowed to sit in on one of the sessions, though. There’s a lot of me rolling around and general embarrassment while Zee moves like a graceful swan.” Can’t forget the flailing, too. So much fucking flailing. His hot hands, though, they were always welcomed on her feet - especially since those toes were always cold, and whatever natural mojo the lotion had packed plus the contact with his warm skin made her feel like pleasant goo. Mmmm. “The quiet’s nice, though. While we still have it.” Well, she didn’t think she’d really mind the loudness of a needy infant - she was their tiny human to take care of, they’d probably think every turd she dropped was made of gold and would shower her with compliments when she successfully passed gas - but she wanted to soak up as much time with Pete as possible. Give it some weeks and they it wouldn’t be just them anymore. Lina’s poor, cold, swollen feet. Pete was gentle with them, pressing and kneading in the right spots, hoping that this would help even a wee tad - carrying extra weight in the form of a football beneath your shirt (soccer ball, sorry) was enough to get a lady of her ‘small frame’ aching considerably everywhere. No wonder she’d taken up yoga. “I’ll settle for you telling me all about them,” he promised - no need to go and observe, with the camera. Tempting as it was. “As long as it helps though. But I rather like the quiet too, and the general look of the nursery now that it’s all done.” Surely it was entertaining watching he and Hawke assemble a crib - a barrel of laughs as they cursed up a storm and made with the creative British insults (arsecockle was a word, and don’t you forget it). However, Amelia’s room was about ready for her to live in - later, when she wasn’t sleeping in a cradle in her parents room; the modern, classy, ‘soothing crystals’ baby theme they had going in there worked well. “Too bad it won’t stay pristine forever. At least we know we’ve stocked up on nappies enough. I think.” It was fucking hilarious, actually, watching the two of them put on their engineering caps and assemble one of the most complicated contraptions of human history. Probably a necessary distraction for Pete’s boyfriend too, considering the news of his mother’s gruesome death - but Hawke had finished the little blanket Leandra had been working, complete with Amelia’s name on it. It might have had Lina sob an entire bucket, maybe, and it was definitely something they’d take with them to the hospital. Whenever the chimichanga decided she was finished baking. “You make it sound like she’ll be sharting on the walls,” smirked the redhead, toes playfully wiggling at his snobby British nose. Now with her leg a little elevated she could see her feet, and goddamn. They must be pregnant too. “Funny, though, how we went from internet trolling to this, isn’t?” And things burning down, drunk spooning, getting shot, crude van healing, kidnappings and the void. Now they had a mortgage to pay and a college fund to dish out some of their earnings every pay period. And he’d gotten her shit like nipple butter (and laxatives, let’s not forget those). Her fingers tapped on her belly, thoughtfully. “It’s just been a crazy ride, is all. And we’re going to have someone in a car seat for the rest of it.” The blanket Leandra had started, with Hawke finishing, was fucking adorable. Even Wisdom potentially teared up there, blaming it on dust in his eyes, but his Though hopefully sharting on the walls wouldn’t happen. Or projectile vomiting - probably best not to get one’s expectations up on that, however. “When you first talked to me, you had no idea I was going to father your children,” he teased (nor did Lina initially believe he would be gifting her with laxatives in her aftercare basket, no, you couldn’t forget those - they were the chocolatey ones, mmmm). “I’m rather glad it turned out this way. I was such a surly git before you.” Now he was...less surly. But he’d come a long way? It was just that Wisdom believed he’d end up alone, and his dreams painted a similar picture - nothing but a workhorse, the one making all the shit decisions no one else wanted to touch. Giving that idea the middle finger, saying ‘fuck it’ to history repeating itself, well, he had a family now. He wouldn’t give that up. “Why the fuck would I want to get knocked up by a dude who refused me a refund,” she teased back with a snort - she never did get her money back, you know, but that was fine. Go to a store to return texts that would have potentially helped save an ex, walk out with a dinner with the future baby daddy. Husband too, at this rate. It was a good trade. “You’re the worst at customer service, babe.” It was her mission to squeeze a smile out of that surliness, though, even if it meant she had to stretch his cheeks so wide they hurt. Pete was hers, and had helped pave the path to second chances after the clusterfuck of what happened in New York - it all seemed like eons ago, and at that time a future like this didn’t seem likely. Lina shifted to sit upright, her toes all warm and shiny from the lotion, and tried to stretch her arms out to grab onto him, and pitifully (because her stomach was in the way, this was hard work) pull him for a kiss. But she mostly reached his ear, guh. “You can grumble all you want in your not-so-surliness, it’s cute. I’m just glad me stealing your cigarettes made you kick the habit. I prefer you alive, and in good health, and I bet our demon spawn would too.” Pete met her halfway. Now that he’d kneaded, rubbed, and massaged the small feet of his fiancee, he felt as if he was somewhat useful - and good for kisses, those too. It meant shifting closer on the sofa, to drape an arm around her and tuck her against his side, head ducking for more of those kisses. “Technically I was doing Romany a favour by looking after her wares. I’m glad I decided to be helpful, shall we say.” Even if he’d just been one step above making sure the occult bookshoppe didn’t burn down - he really was the worst at customer service, yet brotherly duty meant he’d stick around when she went on a tea break or whatever. “She’d call it meant to be, most likely.” Giving up the cigarettes was a surreal sort of thing too. To have someone who actually gave a shit whether his lungs collapsed or not? Very strange. In a good way. “I might pass away when I see how beautiful she is though,” he added, heated hand resting on Lina’s belly, hoping Amelia would stir a little. It was no secret that he liked feeling her kick and doing flips; seemed like a connection between the two of them. “I bet she’ll be like you. Red hair. Red eyes. Loud Yank voice.” Ohhhh, that’s better. Cuddling helped ease the bouts of discomfort too, even if Pete was a heating pad composed of muscles. The sorceress gave him a series of kitten kisses against his cheek, chin, jaw - and he wouldn’t be disappointed to know that the little thing in her stomach was active. Counting kicks was easy when that’s all Amelia did, and while sometimes those kicks were at certain nerves, it was still comforting to feel. Lina might even almost miss them. “Don’t think you can handle another red-eyed redhead, and I prefer opinionated,” she retorted, then shamelessly gave those baby-filled nutsacks an affectionate squeeze. What? They were hers. That’s where her baby came from. A second one too in the far, far future, assuming they liked the first one enough to give her a sibling. “My gingerness is a genetic rarity - we’re a dying breed, you know. Yours are going to take over, and she’s going to end up saying things like arsecockle and manky git by the time she can walk.” At least she didn’t twist his nuts, points for her there. Wisdom rumbled affectionately, squirming only a bit at the ball grab, tugging gently on a piece of that fiery hair his fiancee had. “Two of you would be quite a challenge,” he concurred, with a chuckle. Or perhaps Amelia would favour him - black hair, blue eyes, foul mouth. It was highly possible, though he gathered she’d be a fair mix of both her parents. “And she’s got loads of extended family to learn from too. Especially words like arsecockle.” Later on down the line, he wouldn’t mind having another - they’d talked about children, as in plural, but he probably wouldn’t want to go further than having two. This all seemed like a lot of work, enough to get him to go grey before he was forty. “How are your parents settling in, by the way? Are they ready for the appearance of a screaming infant?” Twist his nuts? Never. Lina simply had a habit of fondling his junk whenever she damn well fancied - sort of how this entire relationship started, didn’t it? “Mom’s already got her own supply of extra baby stuff over there,” she smirked, cozying up a little more, and traced an array of symbols on the span of his chest. “They’re ready to do some well-intentioned smothering. I say when they offer to do the grocery shopping and mow the lawn, we take them up on it.” Considering they’ll be frazzled, sleep deprived, and smelling like baby products. Yeah. If her parents wanted to take up some random responsibilities then fuck, by all means, let the crazy Russians (who promised they’d cut back on the drinking because sobriety around babies were important) do it. “Speaking of them, I have a heavy request, actually.” Uhhh, this is the part where she looked a little nervous. Maybe scared. But she gripped Pete’s shirt tight, and looked at him dead in the eye. “You keep them the hell out of the delivery room, you got that? It’ll be just us. I don’t need those two nutjobs in the background giving commentary, I don’t. I can’t promise you the hospital will be left standing if they squeeze in.” Lina loved her parents, don’t get her wrong. They meant well, but they also had their two daughters while they were young (which is why they called themselves GILFs), and were sassy and mouthy trolls with the occasional drop of maturity. No. Pete was thinking along those same lines - that the mundane tasks (grocery shopping, laundry, etc) would be pushed to the wayside enough as it was. Having any help with that? Well, no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. He rather liked Lina’s parents too, they were fun and lively and oh-so-amusing, but he also didn’t believe that having them in the delivery room was the best idea. “Of course, love,” he snickered, taking her wandering hand and kissing the tips of her fingers before giving it back. Snuggling closer too, rubbing up and down one of her arms. “There’s a waiting room, they can throw a party in there. Because you know they will.” Along with everyone else who would be congregated at the hospital - people could gather all they wanted, but it was completely up to Lina who she asked for in the delivery room. He’d leave that with her entirely. “I’ll do my best not to pass out.” Look, she didn’t need an audience during the entire process - the fuck, no, anyone who didn’t need to be there could stay the hell out. No cameras (why would you even but apparently that was a thing), none of that. Lina’s nose scrunched. “Hey, you knocked me up. I reserve the right to break the bones in your hands,” she told him, the promise of a little violence sealed with a kiss to his mouth. “I’m not asking you to, uh, watch or anything. Just. You know. Be there.” In case anything out of the ordinary happened, which she didn’t think would - but when your insides feel like they’re being ripped apart and there’s screaming involved, a little comfort wouldn’t hurt. And if a nurse was being a cunt then Pete could keep her from committing murder. It’s what couples did, you know, make sure the other didn’t go to jail the day their firstborn came into the world, or something like that. They had marriage and parenthood in the bag. Highfive! “I can be there without watching. I doubt even you would want to watch,” Pete winced. Because really, there was nothing cute about a baby being born - they also looked like shriveled little aliens when they first emerged, covered in blood and goo. No doubt he’d think Amelia was the sweetest and most adorable newborn in existence (paternal bias quite in effect), but still. His hands were also hardy - they could take a good squeezing, and potential bone-crushing. “We’re in this together, me and you,” he promised. “Like how partners do and all that. I’ll pull my share of the weight, and if that means you hospitalise me with broken fingers, well...” Or he’d just get it healed. Zatanna would be there, he hoped. There would be much celebration when Amelia finally made her entrance into this world. Nope. Nopenope. So much nope. To express all the nope she was feeling about ‘watching’ the birthing process, she shook her head quickly because noooooope. Only visual confirmation she wanted is to make sure the persistent pain in her ribs came out with all toes and fingers, limbs and organs where they should be, and one head instead of multiples. That’s it. Lina gave that rugged face of his an obnoxious nuzzle of loooove, so obnoxious. He was her partner, in everything - setting things on fire, cussing up storms, drinking (when she was able to, anyway), and mutual snarliness about certain things. There wasn’t any other person she’d chase a prostitute and get cupcakes afterwards with, either (wedding vow material, much?). “I’ll try and treat you like the fragile gardening tool you are, but no promises,” she quipped, pushing some of his hair back - though it segued to a little bit of scalp scritching. “But we’ve got this. And who knows, maybe your dad might visit?” Fences were being mended between Father Wisdom and Son Wisdom, so hopefully the arrival of the first grandchild would help with all that. If anything, Pete would always have her parents - they’d already taken him and Romany as their own. But it’d be nice to have a relationship with her future father-in-law and for Amelia to actually know her other grandpa. You know, reasons. “He mentioned that he wants to be here when she’s born, so...” Wisdom closed his eyes, purring in a deep, low rumble at the scalp scritching. That felt nice for him, no foot rubs needed. “The old bastard’s gearing up for an extended holiday ‘round the middle of May.” Amelia was due beginning of June, end of May, somewhere around there - but because of Lina’s not-quite-birthing hips (she was a small-boned person, was all, and he really thought her tits were good the way they were even if she wasn’t pregnant) there was a potential for an earlier birth. Besides, Pete just had a feeling it would end up like that. “We’re still working out where he’ll stay. Probably with Romany, if I can convince her.” Or if his older sister couldn’t stand the idea of Harold in close proximity for a few weeks, they’d split the cost of a hotel - if that’s what she decided, he really couldn’t blame her. Not like either were close to the man, but that relationship was improving - little by little. Ohhhh. Lina winced, but kept with the little bit of physical doting - his father was such a tough subject, she’d make him cozy during it. “I don’t know, I don’t think any of you are in that stage of wanting to spend time with him and his habits just yet.” Rom would be a saint for it, but it’d definitely be a test on an already strained relationship. “Though I’m thinking no matter what, people are going to be distracted by the whole ‘ohhh it’s a baby’ thing. It’s an odd phenomenon that just brings people together, I guess.” But something was better than nothing, and she was glad both sides were taking those itty-bitty steps on trying to find some sort of pleasant common ground. The sorceress plopped a big ol’ fat kiss on his mouth. “It’ll be fine, I bet. You get to school him on how to dad, correctly, and you’re gonna be so stinkin’ cute holding a tiny swaddled wrinkly thing that’s half you.” Pete would look so big next to the newborn, it was no doubt going to be the most adorable thing to see. A tiny swaddled wrinkly thing that was half him. How bloody sweet - but there was some truth to that idea of babies being the common ground for uniting estranged families. Their innocence and cuteness were factors that were too difficult to resist. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he agreed. The kiss was returned, adding one more - then another to her forehead, and the tip of the nose he hoped Amelia inherited. No one wanted Wisdom’s very English nose, snobby thing it was. “Well, anything else you need me to get done today, love? I’ll be at your beck and call.” Hmmmmm. “Well, if that’s the case,” she murmured thoughtfully, drumming her fingers against his chest. Then her eyes lit up, because you guessed it - her next request was related to the insatiable appetite meant for dragons and giants trapped in that small-boned human body. Sure, she had oreos, but… “Ice cream? Zee introduced the wonders of honey lavender ice cream. Sounded like it’d taste like a bunch of shit herbs but it’s pretty good. We can swing by and pick up Henry, too - Neal’s asked to have us kidnap him as much as possible.” Lina loved the kid, he was her nephew, hands down. Plus his parents were in a tight spot, and they’d do their part and keep him appropriately distracted. What the fuck was honey lavender ice cream? Seemed as if it would taste like a garden of flowers right in the mouth, but alright. Wisdom supposed that wasn’t too large of a request to fulfill. “Very well,” he laughed, standing to help Lina up - sometimes she needed the assistance, and probably couldn’t wait to not be carrying a bowling ball in the vicinity of her abdomen. “Just tell me where to find it, and I’ll pop in and out.” Probably some whole foods store or whatnot - where the herbivores tended to congregate. As for Henry, he was good with that too. He’d found a vessel for darkness transference, as he was instructed to do, so was waiting on word to go ahead with whatever would be done there. In either case, he hoped it worked out - they all had enough trouble living here with the fun ‘surprises’ from time to time, no one needed extra shit bleeding through to deal with. Car keys found, he was ready to go. On a hunt for bohemian ice cream, what a joy. |