Catfish and the Bottlemen Imagines

All Of Your Children (Part 3)

Part 3 - The Test

Three cups of tea later and you've finally managed to pee on the pregnancy test strip, Van's relief evident as he paces backwards and forwards in the bathroom.

"At last!" He cheers, darting forward to grab the strip from you.

"Wait!" You cry. "It's not instant!"

You laugh at Van's frustrated expression, all pent-up excitement bubbling away under the surface like a volcano about to erupt.

"Well... how long do we have to wait?"

You hold out a hand to him, feeling your own nerves jangling in your gut but trying to keep them contained. "Pass me the cap... that's it. Now we have to wait. It only takes 3 minutes."

"3 minutes?" Van exclaims like you've told him he's got a lengthy period of time to kill, and you giggle, instructing him to lay the test flat on the windowsill whilst you get off the toilet and pull up your underwear and wash your hands.

It's nerve-wracking enough as it is without watching Van's clear impatience. He alternates between pacing and bouncing on the balls of his feet and chewing on the nail of his thumb, random musings being muttered as they come to him.

"I'd have a ciggie but s'pose I should cut down... If you are pregnant then we'll have to cancel the American tour... and the UK one... god I really need a fag... this is the longest wait... it's gotta be 3 minutes by now..."

"Christs sake Van, chill out would you?" You blurt, your chest feeling tight, eyes flicking to the test perched there on the windowsill.

"But I can't chill out Y/N," he protests. "It's taking too long!"

"Well stop chuntering then!"

He stops still then, his eyes meeting yours, full to the brim with emotion. "I'm sorry, I just can't help it. I feel like I'm gonna burst!"

He looks so cute, full of childlike excitement, and you wonder how he's going to make it through nine long months of pregnancy if three minutes of waiting is proving to be a challenge. You glance at your watch to see that three minutes has indeed passed and you take a huge shaky inhale.

"Time's up!" You announce, reaching over to pick up the test and Van is at your side in an instant, one hand resting gently on your waist, his chin hovering over your shoulder.

"I'm bloody shaking," you complain, the test resting in your palm face down. "I don't think I can look. You look... no wait... oh god I'm so nervous!"

Van reaches over with his free hand, fingers curling around the plastic. "Right I'm turning it over in 3... 2... 1...!"

He flips the test over and you find yourself closing your eyes in a fit of nervous panic, only opening them when you hear Van breathe, "Fucking hell babe... we did it!"

The white plastic casing lies there in your outstretched palm, with the words clearly stated that you read over and over again, not quite being able to believe what you're seeing:

PREGNANT
1-2 weeks

"Oh fuck!" You say, and your voice comes out barely a whisper, your head feeling light, your knees buckling.

Luckily Van is there by your side and he grabs for your waist, steadying you, guiding you over to the side of the bath and urging you to sit down. The room feels like it's spinning, like you're on some nausea-inducing carrousel, emotions tumbling around incessantly.

"Are you okay love? You don't look so good."

Van sinks down on to his knees in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. His brows are knitted together in consternation.