Darcy/Clay
Darcy called Jolene when it was that time, because if anyone would understand, it was Jolene. Although Pooch had showed up right at the end of her actual labor, so… Not quite the same. But she got it. A lot of the whole process was spent on speakerphone. You know, when she wasn’t calling Clay.
Because Clay was in fucking eastern Europe when she went into labor. And he wasn’t answering his phone, either. Thirteen messages on his voicemail may have been a little much, she was big enough to admit that. Likewise, calling him when the baby was crowning and telling him what he could do the next time he came near her with his penis was probably also not her finest moment. And technically it wasn’t even possible. She was prepared to apologize for that. You know, after the pushing stopped.
The fact that she gave birth in the tower- thank you, Bruce- because she hadn’t realized she was in early labor while she was going through it, and apparentlysomeone’s baby had been a little impatient, was also a little unsettling.
But then she got to hold her grunting little baby boy against her and everything was okay. She spent the remainder of that day, and the following night, in the tower where everyone wanted to drop by and see the baby and bring her stuff, and then Jolene turned up with the carseat already installed and took her home.
Her someone’s in my fucking kitchen sense only seemed to grow sharper with Benjamin in the house. Which meant that when she woke up a few days later at 3:47 in the morning- she checked- and Ben wasn’t grunting for boobs, her first reaction was to groan and cover her face with her pillow. Because even though she couldn’t hear anything, someone was there. And she’d already been up twice to feed Ben, and really just wanted to sleep.
In about a minute or so, she heard the door ease open, and pulled the pillow away from her face to see Clay standing there, features barely visible in the light from the nightlight she’d started using to feed Ben by in the middle of the night. “Hey, gorgeous,” he whispered, taking in the changes to the room. His eyes moved over the bassinet and seemed to get stuck there, taking in the sleeping form of his son.
“If you wake him up, I will cut you.” Seeing the expression on his face as he looked down at his tiny boy- wonder with a touch of terror- softened her a little. “Don’t worry, he’ll probably be up soon for more boob anyway.” A smile moved over her face, and Darcy pushed her pillow up behind her, pulling herself up to a sitting position. "How was it?”
Still looking at his son, Clay moved across the room and sat down gingerly on the bed next to her. “I’ve never wished I was home more.”
“Yeah. I missed you too.” His eyes moved over to her, a smile on his face as one eyebrow lifted, and she grinned. “Sorry about all of that. Childbirth hurts, actually. Believe it or not.” She reached out and resting her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own. “How are the guys?”
“Good. Everyone came home.” Darcy nodded, relieved. She knew what that meant. “Don’t be surprised if Cougar and Jensen show up in a day or two to see Ben.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss across her lips. “How are you?”
“Tired. Apparently being a milk machine takes a lot of energy.” Ben chose that moment to start rooting around, grunting like a hungry little piglet. “Speaking of, someone’s decided it’s that time. Do you want to get him for me?”
Clay stood, moving the short distance to the bassinet. He was looking down at his son a little hesitantly, until Darcy said, “Dude, it’s a baby, not a bomb. Just pick him up.”
“Bombs. Bombs I can handle.” He gave her a wry glance before reaching gently into the bassinet and lifting the little boy out. He knew the mechanics of operating with newborns, but Darcy still had to stop herself from reminding him to keep Ben’s head supported. He knew.
Darcy took the wriggling little bundle, pulling the blanket down and moving her nursing bra out of the way. Ben latched on like a champ, and Clay sat down by her again, watching her nurse their baby with that same expression of wonder.