Roommates

blurb: moving in

Your tired eyes glanced around the room. It was empty, save for the white couch you were situated on. And yourself, of course. And the baby.

Due any day now, Shawn insisted you didn't lift a finger in the process of moving. Your feet hurt, your back hurt—everything hurt. And all Shawn could do was profusely apologize for "doing this to you" and try his best to make things easier.

Your gaze travelled around the space. It was small, but you liked it. Old. Cozy. Shawn had somehow convinced you to leave the city, promising that the schooling would be better in the suburbs. You argued that no one would have to worry about that for another four years, but Shawn wasn't budging. Both of you knew it was time to slow down.

You didn't quit school, though. That was very important. Your classes were already online and you'd decided to just see how things went, because there was no way in hell you were giving up your projected career just so he could keep his. It was both or neither.

"That goes in there," you perked up at the sound of your fiancé's voice, seemingly talking to one of your hired movers, "yep, she's in there," he continued. You could hear the grin creeping up his cheeks, "my very pregnant roommate."

You laughed to yourself, craning your neck a bit to get a peek around the corner.

You were living a flashback. Wearing the same outfit, even down to the way-too-high socks, Shawn looked exactly the way he did the day he moved you into his apartment. You wondered if he'd done that on purpose.

"Hey, dad," you smiled as he walked in carrying a cardboard box full of books, and Shawn was pretty sure his heart grew ten sizes.

"Hey, mom," he hummed back, emptying his hands so he could join you on the sofa.

"This is," you started, only to be cut off by your overly-excited fiancé.

"So crazy," he finished, peeling your hand from your bulging stomach so he could hold it.

You lifted your toes a bit to stretch, but Shawn's giggling had you knitting your brows together in confusion.

"I can't see your feet over your belly, babe," he spoke, resting his head against the back of the couch so the rim of his hat was pointing straight up.

"Either can I," you replied flatly, "can't even tell if my shoes match anymore."

He laughed, and then he softened, "I'm sorry baby," more laughing, "m'not making fun of you, I promise."

"Don't worry Mendes, we'll get you back," you chuckled, "one day when this little guy's old enough to inherit my sense of humour, it's over for you."

"Oh, I'm scared," Shawn mocked, "you're so sure it's a boy."

"Yeah," you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder. Shawn kissed the crown of your head, "he's just," you paused, "really fucking annoying. Won't leave me alone," you spoke, and you were sure Shawn was smiling, "that's how I know he's our little man. See, males are like this."

"Shut upppp," he replied, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, "I'm positive she's a girl. I just know it," he said, but it was barely a whisper. He was getting choked up, "but it really doesn't matter to me. I already love this tiny thing more than anything."

You gave a tight-lipped smile, nuzzling Shawn's shoulder in agreement.

"I love you," he spoke, kissing your head again.

"I love you back," you giggled, squirming a bit as Shawn's hand tickled your swollen abdomen.

"And you," he said a little louder, shifting on the cushion to lean closer to your middle, "we love you so much, and we're gonna make sure you never forget it. You're on Team Mendes."

You beamed. Shawn had never been happier.

The baseball cap had fallen off, revealing a dreadful case of Shawn's hat-hair. The movers were few and far between, having gotten barely anything done. Your living room had nothing but a worn-out couch in it.

But you didn't need anything else.

Even if this wasn't the place where it all began, you loved it just the same.

It was home.