Blood and Clay (A Mister Morgue Fan-Fiction)

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"I-I'm sorry Morgue" I stuttered.
"I...okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes! Okay!" He spat, angrily.
"Please don't yell at me."
"I'm sorry...what will I do? Where will I work."
"I thought you'd be angrier-"
"I am angry Bri, I'm pissed, but throwing a tantrum isn't going to fix things. In seven months I am going to have a child to care for. I can't afford to shut down."
"You can still work at the Freakshow. I'm sure Todd and Danielle will hire you. I can talk to the Doctor, ask him if you can still do your job as long and you stop with the meathooks and drills and stuff. You can still do needles, I'm sure, and sword swallowing. You and I both know that you're in a dangerous profession. I just ask that you be cautious."
"That won't be a problem, Bri. I love you and I'm going to love this child."
By that time the nurse was back with the doctor who told Morgue all about the shifting skull pieces, which Morgue mentioned explained the headaches he'd been having but didn't tell me about because he knew I'd want to force feed him soup and ibuprofen. Then he said something about him being a "medical miracle" (which leads me to believe the doc may have been lying when he told me Morgue would definitely make a full recovery.)
He wasn't allowed to leave for a few more days, but by the end of that week we were in our apartment, sitting on the couch reading a book of poetry at ten o'clock the night before our first day back at work.
I read Fire and Ice by Robert Frost as Morgue played with my hair.
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
When I was done reading I dog-eared the corner of the page, shut the book and looked up at Morgue.
"So, fire or ice?"
"Hm?" He was spacing again, something he did quite often since he'd been back.
"Do you think the world will end in fire or in ice?"
"Fire I think, you?"
"Both."
"Both?"
"When you were rushed off to the ER and I thought you weren't going to come back to me my heart felt like it was burning. All of my insides were on fire and my tears scorched trails down my face but my soul felt ice cold. Physically I was burning, but my essence froze, and if that doctor came back and told me that you didn't make it I was going to shatter into a thousand shards of ice and burn down in flames all at the same time. I'd imagine that's a lot like what the apocalypse would feel like."
"I'm so sorry Bri."
"Nonsense," I said, standing up and slipping my hair from his fingers, before slapping his knee, urging him to stand, "you came back to me. And, you're going to have a badass scar." I lightly traced my fingers over the surgical scar at his hairline.
"We have to be up early tomorrow. Let's go to bed." I took my loving, philosophical, but as of recent somewhat vacant husband by the hand and led him to our bed.
I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me as close to him as he possibly could.
"I love you." He whispered in my ear.
"I love you too." I answered.
"I wasn't talking to you," he laughed a little and slid his hand to my growing stomach.
"Excuse you," I lightly slapped his hand.
"Alright, I guess I love you too."
I laughed, rolled over to face him and give him a peck on the lips, before burying my face in his chest and promptly, falling asleep.