Moon of Misfortunes

40

Light streams into the living room, causing me to stir on the couch. Our fort, a proud testament to our playful night, stands strong. Rubio is sprawled out on the floor, a blanket lazily tugged over most of his abdomen. I stifle a giggle as he snorts softly, his face scrunching up for a moment.

Carefully, I get up, trying not to disturb him as I sneak into the kitchen. Remembering a conversation we had, I decide to make some French Toast. The rhythmic whisking of eggs and milk, the soft sizzle of bread hitting the hot pan, fills the kitchen with a comforting warmth. The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla soon wafts through the air, a siren call to anyone within smelling distance.

I manage to prepare and cook a few slices before I hear him stir. From the corner of my eye, I see his arms stretch from around the sides of the couch, a long breath drawing in as he wakes. He sits up, his eyes finding mine instantly, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Morning," he says, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning, handsome," I reply, my smile matching his. "I hope you're hungry."

He gets up, the blanket falling away as he stretches his full height. 

"Starving," he admits, making his way over to the kitchen.

As he steps closer, the morning light highlights the fine lines of his features, making him look more relaxed and approachable. He wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as he peers down at the French Toast sizzling in the pan.

"French Toast, huh? You remembered," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

"Of course," I say, flipping the toast with a practiced hand. "Figured it would be a good way to start the day."

He kisses my cheek. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I chuckle, kissing him full on for a second. "Do you want to get dressed really quick? Then, we can eat." 

"Can't handle me in all my glory," he wiggles his brows at me. 

"Whatever, go put some clothes on," I demand as I plate a few of the golden-brown slices I started. 

I waive the spatula at him. "Now." 

He rolls his eyes before walking upstairs. I finish cooking the last slices, plating them quickly. I look back at the fort in the living room, a reminder of the playful moments we shared. I smile at the thought.

My smile is cut short by the fluttering sensation in my abdomen, as if something were shifting around inside me. I freeze, my hand instinctively finding my stomach. The movement happens again, causing me to jump. Tears prick at my eyes as I realize what I'm feeling for the first time: my pup. Suddenly, everything becomes too real. I blink back a few tears, my mind racing.

I have to tell Rubio after breakfast, I think quickly. I scan the room for him, frowning slightly when I don't see him. I guess I have to find him first.

I make my way upstairs to our room, biting my lip to choke down a smile. I push the door open gently.

He's standing there, his exposed back turned to me as he faces the closet. A shirt of his is dropped on the floor by his bare foot. I can't help but notice he's tense as the muscles of his back seemed locked into place.

"Rubio, breakfast is ready," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

He doesn't move. I frown, approaching him. The sound of my footsteps snaps him back into reality, causing him to turn around. His eyes are fixed on something in his hand. I follow his gaze and see my ultrasound picture.