The Birth of a Young Prince.
Heavy rain spat down onto the ground in North Philly, the Heaven's in an uproar. In the hood of Philadelphia, where the rich folk would never dare go near, in a broken-down house with toys spawled all over the dead grass on the lawn and loud rap music thumping out of houses along the derelict street, Cookie Lyon had started having contractions with her third son. A son she'd had her fingers and toes crossed would be a little girl, but apparently God just didn't feel like giving her what she wanted. Third times didn't seem to have a charm, anymore.
Her sons, Andre, and Jamal had been ushered to their shared bedroom when Cookie had started having contractions, so they wouldn't be in the way of the commotion. Cookie lounged back on the beige couch, trying to get comfy to no avail as her back and stomach ached, uncontrollably. Seeing as she and Lucious had been through the labor thing twice already, they knew there was no point in going to the hospital when her contractions were still quite far apart. The old hoopty with the driver's side door duct-taped so Lucious' ass wouldn't fall out, wouldn't be able to survive a trip to the hospital only to be sent back home.
In an attempt to soothe his wife's pain as she rubbed her stomach and rested her head back against the pillow propped underneath her neck, Lucious massaged her feet with oil Carol's 'friend' had given her. Cookie had vowed never to use it, knowing the kind of friends her sister kept, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Lucious' finger kneading her palm of her foot felt quite nice, briefly distracting her from the exhausting pain she was in.
"How you feeling now, baby?" Lucious questioned, concerningly, peering up at her through hazel eyes when a contraction passed. Cookie slumped her shoulders down in relief.
"I'm okay," she mumbled back. "How many minutes apart was that?" she questioned, having forgotten to keep count.
"30, baby." He answered, chuckling when she loudly kissed her teeth with annoyance. She was more than ready to get this baby out. She loved pregnancy, but damn did she hate the labour. "You're doing great, Cook," he praised, rubbing her knee with a smile beaming with pride.
"Am I? I feel like crap," she murmured as she laid her hand atop of his and gently squeezed.
He rubbed his thumb on her knuckles, affectionately. Lucious leaned his head forward and rested it against his wife's stomach. His smile widening into a grin when he felt, what he was sure to be, his son's head pushing back. He definitely had Cookie's head shape just like Andre; round and circular. But of course, he would never tell his wife that in fear of getting slapped or punched. Cookie stroked the back of his neck, distracting herself from the pain by being attentive to her husband. Lucious was way more affectionate than her - it was something she and Carol joked about a lot - however, whenever an opportunity presented itself to love on her man to show her appreciation for all he does for her and their family, that's exactly what she would do.
Just as he was about to drift into a peaceful sleep in a less than ideal position, his eyes shot open and his system went alert when Cookie's hand closed around the back of his neck tightly and strangled hisses of pain tumbled out of her lips, alongside a few curse words. He pushed out of her iron hold and squeezed her hands when he saw her jaw clenched.
"Hey, baby, it's all right. You've got this," he promised, rubbing her knuckles. "Breathe through it." He encouraged. "Like this," Cookie peered at him through her pain and mimicked his breathing. "That's it, Cook. That's it."
When her contraction passed, her death grip on his hands loosened and she came to rest her forehead against his. "It's that time again," she muttered, disgruntledly. "If there's ever gonna be a next time, it's your turn to be pregnant."
