Colors of Love

Nine

The next couple weeks were some of the hardest that the young bassists'd ever faced, but Bobby felt like that prolly more so than his younger mate. Duff's panic disorder was really acting up, which he was essentially trying to medicate with alcohol once his mate fell asleep for the Night. Course, getting absolutely rotted wasn't really helping that, as the amount of sugar consumed by drinking actually made the panic attacks more and more frequent. He just didn't know what elseta do besides getting so rotted, he'd barely make it into the guest bed before passing out and waking up hungover as hell the next Morn.

        At least he was able to pull himself together enough during the Day to avoid leaving the older bassist to do all the nursery setup on his own. While he'd freak and lapse into a panic attack at the mere Thought of leaving the house most of the Time, he didn't seem to have as many problems, if they were planning on staying at home for the Day.

        It was those Days they spent at home that Duff refused to let his mate anywhere near the nursery when he was painting it. Sure, working in a well-ventilated room was important for even him, but not quite as much as the older bassist since he didn't have precious cargo on board. However, it seemed that said mate was more than content to let him paint the bedroom he'd designated as the nursery, which allowed him to stay off his feet more by relaxing on the couch as he worked on a project most wouldn't have expected outta him.

        Bobby'd learned how to crochet from a combination of his late boyfriend and said Cat's grandmother, Nona, during the Years they'd been together. It honestly hadn't taken him long to figure it out, and having such long, dexterous fingers–which obviously came in handy with playing guitar and bass–helped with that. At the moment, he was working on a scarf that was supposed to look like a Spiral of Dragon wings, and if it was made big enough, it could also be a shawl. He figured this'd be something cool that he could wear when he wasn't perpetrating the typical bad-boy rock 'n' roll look, not to mention help with nursing. The way it was designed, it could help cover up his daughter as she fed like a receiving blanket would, but look way cooler.

        "Whew."

        The older bassist looked up from his project as his mate flopped down on the couch beside him, chuckling as he saw the look on his face. "Ready to fall over, huh?"

        "Ready to pass out, more like," Duff chuckled, sounding a bit breathless. "Now I remember why I hate repainting rooms, even with the windows open."

        "Yeah, the fumes do start getting a lil strong after a while, don't they?" he asked.

        "A lil?" the younger bassist countered with a laugh. "Try a lot, hon!"

        Bobby couldn't help a laugh of his own as he laid his project aside so he could lean over to kiss him. "Well, lemme go take a potty break, and I'll start on lunch while you're catching your breath."

        "Ya don't have to do that since I know your feet and ankles get sore and swell up so easily now," he told him as he made to push himself up.

        "Eh, I kinda do–this girl's getting hungry," the older bassist said, grinning as he rubbed his belly.

        "All right, all right–I can't really argue with that," Duff laughed. "But that doesn't mean I've to sit here on my ass while you're cooking, either."

        "Not unless I ban ya from my kitchen so you'll catch your breath instead of falling face-first into a hot burner," he snickered as he headed off to the bathroom.

        Unable to help a laugh as he pushed himself up off the couch, anywhore, the younger bassist headed for the kitchen. He normally didn't each much–he usually considered food a waste of stomach Space he could be using for drinking–but when he did eat, he wouldn't lie about eating like a Hog. Then again, after growing up the youngest of eight with food often running short, it was no Wonder he'd overeat half the Time when he actually went near food now.