Eddie Munson - One Shots II

013. The Runaway Pt. 2

"You have everything you need?" Steve asked, as he hovered in the doorway of my new bedroom.

"Wanting for nothing." I said, with a heavy sigh.

"Sometimes we have to fight for what we want. And we've fought that fight a few times now, right?" Steve asked, understanding.

"Yeah, it's the ice between us, the frostiness. I know I have to expect it, I was selfish and well, I'm here to learn my lesson." I said, as I fingered the new bedsheets fondly.

"It won't always be there." Steve assured me.

"I know, and he is being really supportive. I want to make it up to him. I'm just running a little low on initiative right now. Morning sickness, it happens at any point of the day." I said.

"He's there when I'm not feeling well, there's a cupboard full of ginger biscuits, he's been reading up on a lot online, and it's sweet, it is." I added, feeling a small glimmer of bittersweet.

"It's more than I deserve, really." I continued.

"Don't be the pity party. It doesn't suit you." Steve warned, as I smiled slightly.

I sank down onto the bed, my hands clasping together on my lap, and Steve leaned up off the doorway, coming to rest next to me.

"He prefers space when he's annoyed, or pissed. We know this, you know this. You know him the most, and I know you're not keen on time, but that's what it's going to take. Time, patience." Steve said.

"Things you're not good at." He added, nudging me playfully.

"He loves you. He wouldn't be mad if he didn't. It will get better. He clearly wants to fix things, otherwise I don't think you'd be here. He's told you what he wants from this, so try and take it as a positive. A goal to reach." He continued.

"Since when did you grow up?" I asked, as he chuckled softly.

"Nancy humbled me, pretty much." Steve said, as I chuckled.

"I'm not going to give up this time." I said, as Steve nodded.

"I know." He confirmed.

*****************************************
Eddie

"A letter came for you today. I think it's from the OBGYN." I said, as she wandered into the living room.

She looked a little grey, and her brow was laced with a slight sweat. She didn't answer me, and it was fine; I could see why.

"Morning sickness, huh?" I asked, as she nodded wordlessly, flopping down onto the couch.

"Except it's three in the afternoon." She mumbled, breathing deeply, her eyes closed.

"And when I talk, for some reason it makes me feel even more sick." She added, clearly trying to think about anything else other than the nausea.

Seconds later her eyes snapped open, and she inhaled shakily.

"Nope, not done." She said, before darting from the sofa, dashing off back upstairs.

I followed, held her hair back, and when she was done, she seemed at her wits end.

I couldn't blame her; it had been non stop for weeks now.

I rubbed her back as she sat down on the edge of the bath tub, composing herself, trying to breathe.

I handed her some paper towels and she took them gratefully, her cheeks wet with tears.

"You're almost there. Baby Munson is just giving you abit of a hard time right now." I said, perching next to her.