Someone wrote in [personal profile] hhanon 2011-11-15 01:52 am (UTC)

UNPROMPTED: Happy Saturday, Female!Chris/Tim, PG-13 [2/3] [Spy]

He’s paused by the door, as she jogs gently out of the kitchen, turning around to face her with a faint frown on his face and his hand on the doorknob (and she would make a joke, but she’s pretty sure that it wouldn’t help the situation), “Chris?”

“…Tim,” well, that was intelligent.

“Chris,” and terribly good at assuaging worry, as he turns fully away from the door and starts properly frowning – that adorable forehead-crinkly thing that he only gives when something actually insane is going on and he actually has reason to be nervous about it, “are you alright?”

“…Sort of.”

“I know I asked this morning, when I came down to find that you’d built a tower out of all the cereal, but…”

“I’m alright,” she gulps, licks her lips – for she is alright, really alright. Apart from every single bit of her being consumed with feelings that have never been felt before (because she isn’t a nervous person, really – or wasn’t before late last night and nearly falling into the shower in shock) “…Well, pretty alright. Depending on your definition of alright. If I was married to the heir to the British throne he’d probably be pretty pleased.”

“…William?”

“Descended from Charles II, don’t you know?”

“…No,” and she is so good at assuaging worry. As he stares at her, and frowns at her – and guides her slowly over to the stairs like she’s being all babbly again, “Chris, you aren’t alright.”

“Charming,” she manages, just resisting the urge to just sink down and let the feelings overtake her (she didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall).

“Yes, fine. Tell me what’s wrong?”

(…She didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall.)

(She didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall.)

…She can do this.

She can do this.

“Tim” …She can probably do this.

“Chris?”

…Now or never. Or now or in about nine months, when the little brat comes popping out and scares everybody else to death.

“So,” which would be a bad option, really, for as much as she trusts her hips she would prefer to have a lot of drugs when pushing a watermelon out of her vagina, “about a month and a half ago I must’ve missed a pill. Last night, in a foolish and charming way, I took a pregnancy test to confirm this.”

He stares at her.

“…We’re having a baby.”

He stares at her.

“…Have fun at work!”

Stares-

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