"Eliot!"
"What!"
"Come down here and give me a hand, asshole!" A few moments later, I heard his loud, annoyed stomps coming down the staircase.
"Wanna keep yelling and cussing at me some more?" He challenged as he came into the kitchen. I knew he was being playful, even though his tone was serious. I could tell by his eyes.
"I'll yell and cuss at you as much as I fuckin want."
We stood across the room from each other, our eyes locked and our hands on our own hips.
"You gonna just stand there or are you going to tell me what you called me for?"
"I think I'm just gonna look at you some more." I replied, a slight grin breaking to the surface of my lips.
His hair was tied back in a ponytail and his old flannel and jeans had blotches of paint on them, some old and some new. There was a smudge of gray paint underneath his left eye and his hands were messy with blue and gray paint.
"You're just spendin so much time up there in Corey's room, I don't see you for hours." I walked over to Eliot, placing my hands on the side of his stomach and his hip. My overly large belly was pressed gently to his.
"You're a real bitch, you know that?" His lips curled in a soft smile as his hands pressed to my stomach.
"Yeah. And you're an ass, leaving your very pregnant, overdue wife to make herself something to eat."
"It ain't my job to feed you." Eliot chuckled.
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Really." He nodded and bent down to kiss my lips. Just as he did, Corey decided to kick me where one of his hands was. "Little man's kickin still?"
"He's usin me like a freakin punching bag." I leaned my forehead into his chest, closing my eyes. "And my back really hurts."
"I'll fix you somethin to eat. Are you craving anything specific?"
"Surprise me." I smiled and looked up into his eyes. "I'm going to go lay down upstairs. Maybe he'll stop if I rest for a bit."
"Be careful." Eliot kissed my lips before letting me go to the stairs.
"I will." I smiled over my shoulder before focusing on going up the stairs.
It's been about eight months since we got rid of Damien.
Five months ago, Eliot and I officially got married. It was nothing fancy but Sophie insisted that I wear a wedding dress and so I was forced into one.
Eliot was better, still sore and stuff a little in his shoulder but he didn't complain about it unless he was very tired.
Hardison was doing a lot better, but every time I would say something bitchy to him he would be like 'Aw come on man! I saved your life!' Typical Hardison but I loved him.
And now here we are five months later, I'm six days overdue and fat as a whale and he's still up there messing in the baby's room.
It was a hassle just for me to get up the stairs and I hated it.
My lower back tightened and I winced at the pain, stopping at the top of the stairs.
"Owww." I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the railing tightly.
"You okay, Skylar?" Eliot asked from the kitchen.
"Yeah! I just can't wait for this little shit to come out!" I replied.
