From the start (Joel Miller x Reader) (EDITED)

Chapter 22

A/N: Ready for the end?

The morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and uninvited, casting streaks across the rumpled bed. Joel shifted with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face before turning toward you.

"You know you've basically moved in, right?" he muttered, voice rough from sleep.

You blinked at him, then looked around the room. Your clothes were draped over a chair, your shoes by the door, your half-finished prenatal vitamins on the nightstand. You smirked. "Wow, did the overflowing bathroom counter finally give me away?"

Joel gave a grunt that was half a laugh, half annoyance. "It's like a goddamn pharmacy in there. Took me five minutes to find my toothbrush."

You propped yourself on an elbow, amused. "And yet, you haven't said a word until now. Must be growing on you."

He didn't answer right away. Just stared at the ceiling like it had offended him. "I'm just saying," he muttered eventually, "you're here more than you're not. Might as well make it official."

You raised an eyebrow. "Was that your version of 'move in with me'?"

Joel huffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not writing poetry about it. Just... stay. Or whatever."

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, trying not to smile too much. "That was very romantic. Truly."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but he didn't pull away.

You lay back down beside him, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. After a while, Joel spoke again, voice quieter this time.

"Kid's gonna need both of us around. Makes sense for you to be here. Full-time." He paused. "And I don't hate waking up next to you. There, I said it."

You turned your head, watching him with a softer look now. "I don't hate it either. And... yeah, I think the kid'll like that. Having us both."

He nodded once, then rolled onto his side, resting a hand lightly on your belly. "Still weird as hell, all of it," he said. "But I'm glad it's with you."

You didn't need a grand speech. That simple sentence, muttered half into a pillow, said everything. You reached for his hand and gave it a quiet squeeze.

"I'm glad it's you too, Joel."

The clinic was warm, a quiet contrast to the cold December wind you'd just escaped. Christmas carols played softly through the speakers, and the reception desk was draped in garlands and blinking lights. Joel stood next to you, shifting his weight, his hand never leaving yours.

He looked around, then leaned in and muttered under his breath, "Place smells like peppermint and bleach."

You smirked. "You nervous?"

He snorted. "I don't get nervous."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe a little."

A nurse called your name before you could tease him more. Joel stood quickly, straightening his jacket like he was walking into a job interview.

The exam room was dim, the only light coming from the glow of the ultrasound monitor. Dr. Kane entered moments later, cheerful as ever.

"Well, hello again! Ready to meet the little acrobat?"

You smiled, already lying back on the table. "Definitely."

Joel stood close by, his hand finding yours again as the cool gel touched your skin. Then came the familiar sound—steady, strong, unmistakable.

The baby's heartbeat.