Chapter Thirty Six: Gender

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"Cute, aren't they?"

You jump.

"Jeez, Tom, you scared me."

"Sorry," he chuckles, handing you a cup of tea.

"Can we get one?" you ask, staring into the shop window.

"Darling, we're going to have a baby in a few months, I really don't think this is the right time to get a puppy."

"I suppose you're right. What's that?"

Tom's holding a small pink and blue bag from a baby store down the street.

"I saw this on the way to the coffee shop and I couldn't resist. It was too cute."

He opens up the bag and pulls out a small pink dress.

"That's adorable," you smile, "but what if we have a boy?"

"Then we'll have to save it until we do have a girl. But we would know if we were having a boy or a girl if you would have let the doctor tell us!"

You and Tom are on your way home from the doctor's office. You got to see an ultrasound of your baby, and when the doctor asked if you wanted to know the gender, you and Tom had disagreed. After five minutes of arguing, you won. No. You did not want to know the gender.

"So you think it's a girl? Or is that just what you're hoping for?" you ask, taking a sip of the warm tea.

"I'd be happy either way. I really don't care what gender the baby is."

"You want a girl, don't you?" you smile.

"It would be nice," he grins, putting his arm around you. "What about you? I know you keep saying you don't care, but honestly, you have to be leaning one way or the other."

"Well, I've kind of fallen in love with the idea of having a mini version of you running around. A little head of blonde curls, your beautiful blue eyes."

"I was thinking that I wanted a little version of you running around."

"You think you could handle two of me?" you smirk.

"You make an excellent point."

You laugh and keep walking. "Are you sure we can't get a puppy?"

"Let me think. A fully grown version of you, a mini version of you, and a puppy. I don't think so."

"But you're wrong. A fully grown version of me, a mini version of you, and a puppy."

"You really want another me in the house?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"I'm annoying. I pick on you because it's fun," he frowns.

"But you love me."


"And I love you. And I love this baby, no matter how he acts."

"Well, I'm sure she will be an angel, just like her mummy."

"You think I'm an angel?"

He furrows his brow. "Of course I do. Why would I think otherwise?"

"I don't know. I just don't think I'm very angel-like at two in the morning when I make you go get ice cream because we don't have any and I'm having cravings."

"And then you're sleeping when I get back," he laughs.


"Well, I don't think our baby is going to get pregnancy cravings."

"No, but you have to admit, I can be very demanding when I want to be. You've heard the stories that my brothers tell."

"That's true, but I can be such a brat. I make you get out of bed at six in the morning some days."

"Because you can't sleep anymore and you just want to talk with me. I actually find that kind of sweet."

"You don't act that way when I do it."

"Because I'm tired. And pregnant. And often times I'm hungry, and you know how I get when I'm hungry."

"Eheheh. Yes, I know."

"Did we just have an argument about who's the worse person in our marriage?"

"Mm. I think we did," he laughs.

A few minutes later you're standing in front of your house.

"Tom," you stop in the doorway.


"I'm hungry."

"I'll start dinner in a few minutes, love."

"No, I really want pasta."

"I can make pasta if that's what you want."

"Not just any pasta. I want pasta from that really good Italian restaurant. You know, the one we went to on your birthday."

"That's halfway across London."

"But Toooom," you whine.

"Alright, if that's what you want. Do you want to eat there, or should I order and go pick it up?"

"I was hoping to watch a movie with you tonight, maybe The Avengers?"

"Again? We just watched that last week."

"I know, but we met on set of that movie. There are a lot of good memories. Plus I love watching you play Loki."

"You don't need to watch a movie to see me play Loki," he says, a devilish look crossing his face.

"Mm. Well, pasta first, Loki later."

"Alright, darling. I'll be back shortly."

He kisses your cheek and he's out the door. You plop down on the couch and wrap yourself in a blanket, waiting for your husband to return. Nearly forty-five minutes later, you hear the front door open and footsteps enter the room. You look up to see Tom holding a bag from the Italian restaurant. Your eyes light up and the two of you move into the kitchen. You open the box that contains the key to ending your cravings. You frown.

"Um, Tom."

"What?" He looks up from his container of food.

"This isn't pasta."

"What? You're bloody kidding me."

He moves around the table and looks in the box.

"Liar," he growls, giving you a slight nudge.

You laugh and return the playful push.

"I thought I was going to have to go all the way back to get your food."

"Do you really think I would make you go back?" you ask innocently.

"Yes," he states. "When you're craving something, you don't let it go."

"Well, you're not wrong." You shrug and give him a half smile. "Sorry? Can I make it up to you?" You lean toward him and his arms wrap around you."

"I can think of something," he grins.

"What's that?"

He leans in to whisper something into your ear.

"Let me name the baby."

"Ha! No chance." You pull away.

He grins and moves in to kiss you.

"Well, if you're not going to let me name the baby, could I pick the movie we watch tonight?"

You sigh. "Fine."

He grins once more. "The Jungle Book."

Of course he chose that.

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