Lazy days had been becoming more and more frequent as you got further into your pregnancy. All your energy was going into growing and developing body parts for the ungrateful parasite inside of you, leaving you exhausted and in pain from the slightest thing. Even just lying on the sofa watching a movie with your husband left you wondering if you could make it to the bathroom every time you needed to pee.
Clint was falling asleep watching the chick flick you had picked whilst you were getting over emotional over the main protagonists of the film admitting their love for one another.
"Ice cream would be perfect now," you said dreamily, already tasting the mint chocolate chip ice cream on your tongue.
"There's some in the freezer," Clint said creating a yawn as he stretched out his limbs, squashing you on the sofa.
Even though he wasn't looking at you, you began to flutter your eyelashes at your husband. "Can you get it?" You asked with a sing song voice.
Clint didn't open his eyes. "You know where it is."
Instantly it felt as though you were seeing red, as though all your fury and frustration had bubbles up with you and was ready to spill out in your husband's direction. Clint quickly realised he'd messed up. With your hormones completely out of whack, sometimes you were irrational but the fact that you were pregnant, you let the emotional misbalance reign free until it settled, and you'd apologise after.
"I'm-" Clint tried to speak but his words were lodged in his throat and you were quick to speak over the croak he was managing to make.
"If you can get me pregnant, you can get me ice cream," you snapped, the tears bubbling up in your eyes, past the tearful movie scene, to an emotional outpour.
Clint shot up, stumbling from his place beside you on the sofa, waking himself up with a start.
"I'm sorry," he said, speeding from the room to grab the one thing that your mind was desperate to consume. Like a flash he returned with a pint of ice cream and a spoon.
"Are you sorry for getting me pregnant or sorry for not getting the ice cream quickly?" You huffed.
"Which do you want me to be sorry for?" He asked, watching you rip the lid from the ice cream like a rabid beast.
You scooped a heaped spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. "Both."
~*~
Written by Charlotte.