[It's another normal day of tender love and adoration, but reality sets in for Steven in a sudden moment of realization.]
[Word Count: 1936]
***
"Here you go my dove." Steven cooed as he offered the glass mug towards me. From my sitting position on the sofa, I smiled sweetly at seeing his purely affectionate expression. "A little sugar, just how you like it. Just be careful, okay? I put an ice cube in it to cool it down, but it's still piping hot."
"Thank you, Steven." I responded, carefully accepting the slightly steaming tea from him, grinning as our hands caressed the other during the physical interaction. I softly blew air across the open face of the mug, watching the steam be displaced and interrupted.
Immediately, Steven returned after scurrying away. He gently sat beside me on the sofa, but stood up and hurriedly darted to our bedroom area. I chuckled at his nervous and always jittery composure, never seeming to be satisfied enough to relax.
He returned with a blanket, my favorite blanket in particular, draping it over my bent legs that were tucked under me at a sideways angle. "Steven, you didn't have to do this-you don't have to do all that!" He continued to tuck the blanket around me, but then stopped, slowly removing the blanket from my swollen belly.
"Of course I did, (Y/N). You're carrying our child. Our baby." His lips displayed a proud smile, while his eyes gleamed, slightly glistening with ecstatic tears. "I'm going to always provide for you. Whatever you need, my angel, I'm at your service. I owe you my life for the one you're creating." His hand warmly caressed my belly, though obscured by his t-shirt that he offered me after my shower earlier that morning. His head dipped to tenderly kiss my covered skin, then catching my lips in a chaste kiss of adoration. "I love you, my beautiful wife."
My cheeks blushed furiously at his acts of complete love and reverence. Steven would always make me blush, and everyday I found myself falling deeper in love with him. "I love you too, Steven." I returned, watching his effervescent grin return.
He relaxed against the cushions and sighed, reaching for his glasses that were hooked onto the front of his shirt. "Where were we, my love?" He questioned, not really expecting a definite answer, situating his scarlet readers onto the bridge of his nose.
Steven reached for a small book of bound poems on the coffee table and gingerly opened it, briskly licking his thumb to flip to the next page. His eyes darted over familiar words until he nodded in success. "We were here with Mr. Charles Baudelaire and his poem À Une Passante, or In Passing, written in 1855."
I sipped the tea that Steven had prepared, indulging in the perfect sweetness and temperature. "Honey, will you please translate it for us as you read?" I asked, my hand mindlessly and habitually caressing my belly and tilting my head towards Steven.
Of course, I loved when he read poetry to me, especially French poetry, but I still desired to understand. And I believed that by him conversing in two languages, then perhaps our baby could possibly benefit while being in the presence of French poetry read by their father.
We wanted to be surprised of our baby's gender when the day finally arrived, and didn't want to limit what we introduced into the developing stages. Rather, we wanted to include a wide range of languages, literature, and music to fully acclimate and soothe our child in the womb.
"Of course my love. Here we go.
La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.
Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,
Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse
Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet;
The deafening street around me roared.
Tall, slim, in deep mourning, majestic grief,
A woman passed, lifting and swinging
With a pompous gesture the hem and flounces of her skirt,
Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.
Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,
Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l'ouragan,
La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.
Swift and noble, with statuesque limb.
As for me, I drank, twitching like a crazy man,
From her eye, livid sky where the hurricane is born,
The softness that fascinates and the pleasure that kills,
Un éclair... puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté
Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,
Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité?
A lightning flash... then night! O fleeting beauty,
By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,
Shall I see you again only in eternity?
Ailleurs, bien loin d'ici! trop tard! jamais peut-être!
Car j'ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,
Ô toi que j'eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais!
Somewhere else, way too far from here! Too late! Perhaps never!
For I do not know where you flee, you don't know where I go,
O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!"
I adored Steven while he audibly read from the book, watching his expression liven and his eyebrows raise and fall with the connotation of his words. His free hand that wasn't holding the book even motioned in the air as he acted out the stanzas passionately. "That was beautiful, Steven. I really like that one."
He adjusted his glasses and smiled at me, the corners of his eyes stinking in happiness and pure satisfaction. "You're really beautiful." He truthfully and honestly stated, closing the book of poems and returning it to the coffee table before us. His hand then enveloped my flushed cheek, his thumb tenderly drawing circles into my skin. "The most beautiful woman to ever exist. I'm positive that you put Aphrodite to shame." He giggled, his eyes flickering from behind his glasses and across my face.
"Steven!" I chuckled, resting my hand on top of his, reveling in the warmth and gentleness of him. "The last time someone said that...I'm pretty sure destruction followed." He shook his head with a smile, leaning forward and resting our foreheads together.
He inhaled, fully relaxing as our skin contact grounded him and caused his anxiousness to dissipate. "I will remind you every hour, of every day, of every month, of every year of my life, (Y/N). You are a blessing to me." His phrase evolved into a whisper at the end before he tenderly connected our lips again.
My eyes closed as he kissed me, not roughly or over extorted with energy, but simply and softly. True and pure loved radiated from him and warmed me, even all the way to my cold feet that were hidden under the blanket that he brought for me.
Suddenly, I gasped and pulled away, holding my stomach and rushing my glass of tea towards Steven whose anxiety had returned. "Love? What's wrong?" He questioned, immediately setting the glass onto the coffee table before returning his worried eyes to me.
I bit my lip and exhaled, leaning my head back into the portion of the couch that was against my back. I groaned at the pressure, now using both hands to try and comfort my aching belly.
"Oh God, is it the baby? Is it time? It's too early, isn't it? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to call and take you to hospital?" Steven was now standing, frantically running his hands through his now disheveled, curly hair. His eyes resumed their panicked study of me, as I groaned again and squeezed my eyes closed.
I reached a slightly shaky hand towards him, beckoning him close. "No, no Steven. It's okay." I nodded, breathing easier as the pressure began to subside. "Your child just kicked me in the ribs." I sorely rubbed at my side, feeling another preparation for a moment of discomfort.
"You're okay? The baby is okay, then?" He asked, kneeling before me on the floor. I nodded and closed my eyes as I felt another wave of pressure in the same area, trying to rub away the discomfort through the material of the shirt.
Steven carefully removed the blanket and raised my shirt, exposing my extended belly, fully accompanied by stretch marks that he daily mentioned that he adored, saying it was proof of my body's instinct to love and nurture, protecting our unborn child as it continued to develop.
His palms spread onto my stomach, allowing me to remove a hand and relax against the cushions. "Hello..." Steven whispered against my skin, his nose tickling my belly. "My little scoundrel. What are you doing, hm?" A chuckle followed his question. "You're hurting your mum, so you need to behave." He directed, placing light kisses onto my skin. Then, he gasped in surprise and looked up at my equally shocked expression. "Bollocks! I think she just kicked me in the face."
I giggled and rested my hand in his hair, adoring his curls. "She, hm?" I pondered, raising an eyebrow, never before hearing Steven flat out declare what he guessed our surprise of a baby to be.
"Well, yes. She's feisty, just like her mum." He returned, now guiding his lips back to my belly. "Missy, you need to be nice to your mum, please. And don't kick your dad. Please." He chuckled again, resting his cheek against my stomach and humming softly.
I continued to run my fingers through his curls and breathed deeply as I was able to relax slightly under his delicate affection.
The apartment was silent, except for the bubbling fishtank that Gus 1 and Gus 2 inhabited, combined with our harmonized breathing.
"(Y/N)." Steven called out, his tone unrecognizable. I hummed in response, angling my head to face him. "I'm...I'm going to be a dad." He stated in disbelief. "I'm really going to be a dad, I..." He shook his head as if the reality of the situation was just now being realized. "Thank you." His eyes met mine, tears evident in his brown eyes while his lip quivered. "Thank you for making me a father." He genuinely stated.
I sat up, holding the arm of the couch for support. "Steven, baby, you are a dad. And a really fantastic one at that. Our little boy has listened to you." I smiled, not feeling as if there was a national soccer championship being hosted by our unborn child anymore. "And we did this together. You made me a mother." I caressed his cheek and wiped the tear that fell from his closed eyes.
He nodded and sniffed, placing his cheek against my belly once more. "Thank you, my little one, our perfect blessing. For making us parents." He pressed a quick kiss above my bellybutton before carefully pulling my shirt back down and smoothing the material back over my skin.
I admired his expression of unbelievable and uncontainable love. "Are you ready, Steven?" I asked, running a hand over my stomach, truly questioning him about his feelings on the quickly approaching day where our apartment wouldn't be as silent as it was now.
"I'm ready, my love." He confidently stated, looking up to me with a cherishing adoration and affection. "I'm so ready to begin the rest our our life together. Our life with our children." He sweetly stated, placing a hand on my belly and another on my cheek, bringing me into yet another passionate kiss, assuring me that he had no doubts in his perfect love, as a devoted husband, or as a committed father.