For Him (Tracob)

Jacob's pov

Our first appointment is maybe not as exciting as we might have expected. Virtually nothing happens. The baby is hardly even a thing yet, so there's not listening to the heart beat, no ultrasound, nothing. Just checking in on Charlie mostly, prescribing her supplements to take and things to do to help manage morning sickness, but this being her 6th baby, she's pretty much heard it all, and we leave the appointment somewhat underwhelmed and impatient for the one where things actually happen. To console ourselves, Troye pulls up a week by week pregnancy chart and we learn that the baby is the size of a sunflower seed, and will double in size in the next week or so. I try to scroll through the rest of the weeks to see what's coming up, but Troye screams at me and snatches his phone back, insisting that we have to let each week be a surprise. He's so passionate about it that I can't argue. When we get home, he sits at the table and Skypes his sister for awhile while I make us dinner. We told our families last week, to many tears and joyous exclamations. They knew we were planning, obviously, but they were all elated to find out that we're officially expecting. Sage peppers us with questions and tells Troye funny stories about people they know in Australia, or something that happened at work. I listen to them talk more than I participate. More than anything, I'm just pleased to see Troye so content and cheerful. We eat a quiet dinner - not the tense or uncomfortable kind of quiet - the kind of quiet that settles around you and makes you feel peaceful and sleepy.

As I do the dishes afterwards, my phone buzzes with a new message.

Marc to Jacob. 6:29pm: current mood is our finale model tripping during dress rehearsals and fucking destroying the 7,000 jacket he's wearing. This show is cursed already, I swear.

The text reminds me suddenly that I agreed to attend the fashion walk tomorrow night to see Marc - something that had slipped my mind completely until now.

"Oh shit," I mutter to myself.

Troye looks up at me from where he's perched cross legged on the granite countertop, eating from a pint of caramel ice cream. "Something wrong, angel?"

"Yeah, well, not really. Do you want to come watch Marc walk with Dolce and Gabbana tomorrow night with me? I promised him we would go, but I guess I forgot."

Troye licks a spot of ice cream off the back of his hand. "Will there be food at this event?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. From the amount of food he eats/talks about, you'd think he was at least 300 pounds, but here he is, a tiny little thing, perpetually with food on the brain. Honestly, I'm pretty sure his favorite thing about his celebrity status is how much free food he gets just for attending events.

"I'm sure at the very least there'll be an open bar of some sort."

He sucks on his spoon, considering. "Okay, I'll go."

The next evening finds us smack dab in the middle of a pre-show gala, teeming with fashionable people ranging from high to very high on the celebrity ladder. The press is here, of course so Troye and I make the mandatory rounds of greetings that everyone does to look all happy and polite. Not that we aren't happy and polite, but really do you want to have to go around and say hello to everyone in a giant gala hall? It quickly gets fairly repetitive. I keep myself entertained by watching Troye, who looks almost too good this evening, in black skinny jeans and a silver, sleeveless shirt with a high neck but almost no back. It's maybe a more daring look than he would usually go for, but satisfying to look at nonetheless. As we drift around, I place my hand on his back to keep him close to me. My fingers are pressed against his smooth, exposed skin and I have to resist the urge to glide up and down his spine gently as we speak to people. As I predicted, there's free alcohol, and it comes in the form of servers drifting about with champagne glasses arranged on silver platters, which sounds a lot fancier than it is. Troye gets ushered away from me by some acquaintance of his who wants to introduce him to somebody else. I let him go, and make small talk with a young business mogul to pass the time. Just before we're supposed to head into the big room to watch the actual walk of the evening, Troye sidles up to me again.