run of the mill.

20th

Aww, damnit!" Beyonce whined as she covered her face with both her hands and whined. 

Vivian sat on the couch in the room holding a crossword puzzle and looking at it dismally. "Don't curse," she mumbled without even looking up.

Beyonce flung a gaze at her and frowned. One more time, she thought. And I will boot your holy ass out of my delivery room. She sat back in the fluffy pillows and huffed against the cramps she was feeling in her pelvis. Beyonce had been in labor for a good fourteen hours. And she had been having contractions the whole time. It had been so bad that Vivian, her father, and Shelby went home to bathe and came back. 

She had been given antibiotics but the doctor said he wouldn't induce the labor until forty-eight hours of contractions. He didn't want to risk infection, he said, but he wanted to give the baby a chance to come when she was ready. 

She was originally in a very small delivery room that barely gave any of them room to breathe but Shawn came in swinging his damn insurance card around and Beyonce was moved to some luxury suitewith flat screen TV's and a nice couch for Vivian and himself to sit on comfortably. Beyonce bickered the whole time but she was in a bed with wheels so no one paid her any mind. 

"It hurts," she grumbled in a rough voice. "And where is that damn nurse, this is not my room!"

"Stop cursing," Vivian said looking up at her. 

Beyonce flung her hair out of her face and glared at her. "I'm in labor Vivian."

"I've noticed," she said calmly. 

Beyonce knew it was just the mother in her but she remembered that Vivian had never had children. She didn't know the pain of having your cervix stretched. Still, she was a pain in the ass. "Would you go get me some ice chips please?" she asked with the best smile she could muster. 

Vivian rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine. I know when I'm not wanted."

"From the first floor," Beyonce called as the door closed. They were on the fifth so it was obvious she wanted Vivian to be gone for a while. Beyonce sat back and closed her eyes, wincing against the slight pain that wasn't as bad as it was a second ago. 

"You know," Shawn said even though he hadn't talked in hours. "You have ice chips beside you."

Beyonce didn't even lift her head. "Get the hell out." She said with no jokes or humor in her voice. She wanted him to get out and the way she presented it was comedic, even if it wasn't intended to be.

She heard him stand up and she opened her eyes to see him coming to her bedside. "Beyonce this is our baby, I'm not going anywhere."

"I wish you would," she mumbled loud enough for him to hear. Shawn ignored the words of hurt and announced that his mother's plane had just landed. 

"She'll be here soon," he said looking down at his Prada phone. Beyonce looked at the little machine beeping loudly next to her and nearly slapped it out of his hand. "She's getting a cab."

Beyonce rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just leave? You can still make it to practice if you go now." She was being bitter. Her voice dripped with bitter animosity and she didn't bother to hide the glare she was giving him. She didn't want him around her. 

"I don't have practice."

"Figures," Beyonce huffed. 

"And even if I did, I would still be right here."

The pain was shooting up her back and she was irritated with him. She had been irritated with him for months but she wasn't in pain then. She held her tongue. She was irritated when he showed up at her father's house but she tried to tell him politely that she never wanted to see him again. But she wasn't in pain then either. Now, she was feeling every cell in her pelvis and back whither in agony and damnit, she was not holding her fucking tongue.