Twelve Months

March

"Michael, you don't have to do that," Sara smiled as Michael smoothed out the wrinkled fabric covering her feet. Following their recently scare and ruined kitchen, Sara had been given orders by her doctor for strict bed rest. That meant, as a result, Michael was home from work and by her side twenty four hours a day.

"But I want to," Michael soothed, pushing the last wrinkle from the blanket and setting himself down beside her. He reached out a warm hand and laid it over the top of Sara's between them. The morning was a strange one. Outside the sun was shining brightly, trying desperately to warm the March air that still held a biting chill, while it spattered with tiny clear raindrops. The clouds in the sky were sparse, only a few holding the transparent nectar that sat evenly upon the windows of the apartment.

"What a strange morning," Sara commented, staring blankly out of the window. Michael smoothed his thumbs over her knuckles and her face swung back to his, their eyes meeting and immediately speaking volumes. Sara forced a smile and sighed heavily. "I hate this," she told him, pounding a flattened palm into the bed beside her.

"I'm sorry," Michael said with a false whine. He cupped her hand in his and gently lifted it to his lips where he planted a soft kiss to the back of it. Sara watched him, his eyes fluttering closed as their skins connected. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle and she smiled.

"It's not your fault Michael..." she paused, taking in his crooked smile and raised eyebrow. "Ok, so maybe it was a little," she chuckled, shifted herself in the bed so that she was laying sideways to him. Michael watched her and laid his fatherly touch over her abdomen, wanting to protect his son as much as he could.

"You helped," he winked, lazily gliding his hand over the stretched material of his olive green t shirt Sara was wearing. "And besides," he added merrily, his eyes shifted over her face as he spoke. "He's fine," Michael's eyes darted to Sara's stomach as it poked out from underneath the shirt. In one quick action he pressed his ear to the bump and cupped it with his large hands. "Aren't you?" he asked it, immediately grinning wide when Sara's hands found his head and held it there while she laughed.

There was no response from the bump for a second and then a dull poke to Michael's temple made him flinch and pull his face away a few inches. Sara's face lit up with joy when she felt their son kick, the first time since he had almost been born prematurely. As it turns out, Braxton Hicks contractions, or "false labour" can be induced with vigorous exercise and in the late second trimester can present painfully as if it were real labour. Unless Sara and Michael wanted their son born too early, the doctor had advised them against having sex for the next two months. Just over two weeks after the incident, both of them were feeling like that had been too long.

"Michael," Sara breathed on a chuckle, unable to really say anything else. Michael was just that to her. Indescribable to the point where she could just say his name and get lost on the word as it escaped her lips on a smile. Michael removed himself from her swollen belly and Sara's hands fell back to her sides. Her smile made Michael smile and he leant towards her face with a toothy grin for a taste of her lips.

Sara's hand sprang back to life, reaching up cup Michael's face as their lips connected, each exhaling with a laugh through their nose onto the others smile. Michael planted one hand on either side of Sara as she lay on the bed, his heavy form causing his wrists to sink below the blanket. With a content hum Michael pulled his lips from Sara's and her eyes fluttered open to meet his ocean blue orbs. "Sara," he breathed mockingly with a grin.

Sara's mouth fell open in disbelief of his joke and her arm collided with his biceps as she struck him playfully. Michael flinched with a loud laugh as Sara glared at him, her face twisting as it tried to hide her smile. Michael's eyes shone with mischief and he bit his teeth together in a wide grin. Both of their gazes dropped to the space between their bodies as Michael's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He shot Sara an apologetic glance and then stood, retrieved the sleek black device, and pressed it his ear.