Eleven

Chapter Thirteen: Scrambled

A/N: I've started decorating some of the chapters in this story with pictures...so check it out! Any quote suggestions are always welcome. :) PM me or comment if you've got one!

Get comfortable, this is a long one.

Chapter Thirteen: Scrambled

Tiptoeing towards the bed, which was almost as debonair as the man currently lying in it, I paused to take in Owen's sleeping form. Even at his most vulnerable, Owen resembled a dozing panther. His face was pinched slightly in concentration, and those arm muscles were taught beside his head.

He was also shirtless, lying on his back with the sheet gathered around his waist, and my mouth watered slightly at the feast before me.

Not the time, Sang, I scolded myself as I noiselessly reached his side of the bed. The curtains weren't drawn, so only a sliver of sunlight was peeking through, and the only audible sounds were Owen's deep breaths as he slept.

Then I remembered Owen's pale face earlier, and I thought back to my own suspicions of why he's been acting weird lately. I just prayed I was wrong. Owen's sleeping form was it's own motivation, and I took a deep breath before stealthily climbing onto the bed beside him. When his breathing didn't change, I gently swung a leg over him until I was straddling his hips. The motion had him shifting awake as I rested my hands on his firm, warm stomach.

"Sang," Owen acknowledged groggily, rubbing his eyes before collecting his glasses from the nightstand. I stayed perched on his hips as his glasses slid into place, watching those grey eyes as I came into focus for him.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly, my fingers tracing lazily against the indents and peaks of his abdomen.

"It's only a headache," Owen explained sleepily, shifting slightly beneath me and bringing his hands up to rest on my thighs. "Nothing to worry over."

"Don't lie to me, Owen," I chided, unable to help the frown from forming. It wasn't just a headache, and he'd been acting a little off for two weeks now.

He didn't deny it, and we sat there in silence until it turned uncomfortable.

"What's going on, Owen?" I sighed, hoping my suspicion was wrong. "Is it...is it the baby?"

"What makes you think-"

"Because It's been two weeks since we found out, and you haven't...you didn't even...," I couldn't continue with my throat closing up like this, and I had to consciously tell my fingers to unclench so I wouldn't end up drawing my own blood.

I hadn't planned on crying.

But I'd been avoiding this talk since I'd told the boys I was pregnant, and whenever a day got particularly quiet or things slowed down, it was all I could think about. Owen's reaction.

"I didn't what?" Owen asked in growing alarm, leaning up in a hurry and I slid down to sit on his thighs. I tried to calm myself, but he obviously saw my distress.

"You didn't smile," I whispered, my voice still managing to crack halfway through.

"I didn't...smile?" Owen repeated slowly, sounding more confused than before.

"When I told you I was pregnant, you didn't smile," I managed to stammer through my quickly closing throat, belatedly wondering if now was actually a good time to talk about this.

"I don't understand where this is coming from, darling," Owen sounded lost, bringing his hands up to grasp my waist. "We spoke that day. It was all good things, and while I don't recall if I smiled or not-"