Exhaustion (Week 5-8)
Chapter Title: Exhaustion (Week 5-8)
Title: Here Comes Baby (2/?)
Author name: allkindsoffics
Main Pairings: Morgan/Reid/Prentiss
Characters: Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss
Rating: pg/pg-13 (overall nc-17)
Word count: 1611
Warnings/Spoilers: threesome domesticity, morning sickness
Part of To Pick Up
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Emily tells Derek and Spencer; they deal with morning sickness.
Author’s Note: I love feedback, thanks!
Previous Part
Emily doesn’t tell them; she’ll admit she’s a little shit for not telling them, but they came home and she hasn’t had time. That’s a lie, of course, but she has to build herself up to it and one last romp between the sheets is exactly what she needed. She wakes up alone and is washed over by momentary panic, until she hears a large crash and Derek’s rumbling laugh. The smell of bacon wafts up the stairs and she’s suddenly craving the crispy deliciousness.
She throws her legs over the side of the bed and is immediately hit by a wave of nauseous and dizziness. She falls heavily back onto the bed. She can hear Spencer and Clooney plod up the stairs. Clooney leaps onto the bed and burrows into the sheets; he is thankful that the humans have finally decided to get their lazy asses up.
“Emily, I’ve brought coffee,” he singsongs; he’s obviously still floating after last night.
Maybe, one cup of coffee will help. She leans forward to accept the coffee. The rich aroma of Honduran coffee wafts through her nostrils and is immediately rejected. She dry heaves and barely makes it to the en-suite before hurling.
“Derek,” Spencer yells and Emily wants to knock herself out on the toilet seat. She hears Derek storm the stairs and she knows it’s all going to hell in a hand basket. She wants to stand up and brush it off, but, right at this minute, she can’t.
“Emily,” Spencer kneels down beside her and brushes her hair back. His hand is cool and she turns her cheek into it.
Derek skids into the room and assesses the situation; he looks unsurely between the two. She thinks it’s safe to pull away from the toilet and she leans against the vanity. Her eyes close and she contemplates what she is going to say; she doesn’t want to lie, but she can’t imagine telling them as she sits in Derek’s undershirt on the bathroom floor.
“Do you think it’s the flu?” Spencer asks from her side where he is sitting with his legs twisted like a pretzel as he holds a cool washrag against her neck. She shakes her head.
“Food poisoning?”
“No.”
“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Derek asks as he squats in front of her and grabs her hands. She can feel their eyes on her.
“I’m fine.”
“Emily…” Spencer says gently. Derek’s thumbs are brushing over her hands in a reassuring manner and she wants to cry.
“I’m pregnant,” she replies as she looks at both of them. Derek’s thumbs don’t stutter, Spencer keeps the cloth pressed against her neck, and they gaze back at her with the same look of concern they had before. They’re masking their responses, Emily can tell, and it makes the waterworks start.
When she can’t rein it in and sobs loudly, Spencer pulls her into him and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Derek rubs his hand up and down her back as she buries her face into Spencer’s chest.
“What do you want to do?” Derek questions and his voice is calm and congenial but a little reserved; it’s the same tone he uses on cases and she wants to shriek. Yet, she knows he’s only using that tone so she doesn’t know how he feels, not to treat her like a victim.
She draws in a deep breath, pulls away from them, and crosses her arms over her chest, before she answers.
“I want to keep the baby,” she says, looking at the tile.
“You’re sure?” Spencer asks.
“Yes,” she affirms.
Derek places his hands on either side of her face and kisses her fervidly. When Morgan is done kissing her, Spencer gives her a reassuring peck.
It’s then that Derek’s mask drops; he’s grinning, legitimately grinning. He kisses her hands as he places a hand over Emily’s abdomen. Spencer is more reserved and scared; Emily is thankful for Spencer’s response, because she knows he feels the same trepidation she’s feeling. Yet, Spencer still laces his fingers through Derek’s. She rests her hands over theirs and they sit there for a minute.
“I love you two,” Derek says, “I guess, you three, now.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, kissing her cheek.
“Do you think you can eat, or do you want to go lay down?” Derek asks, kissing her forehead.
“The bacon kind of smells super delicious, but keep the coffee away.”
“O, sweetheart, that is gonna suck.”
“Tell me about it. I fucking love coffee.”
~~~***~~~***~~~
Emily wants to wait to tell the team; plus, they have to wrap their heads around it better before they tell anyone. Not to mention how risky a pregnancy at her age is... She hopes she’ll get to tell them; she’s worried Derek’s behavior is going to give something away. He hovers way too much, all the time. He’s constantly touching her, asking her how she feels, and catering to her needs. Spencer is a little more surreptitious about his concern. He leaves bottles of water, cans of ginger ale, sleeves of Saltines, and containers of applesauce in her desk drawer.
They don’t just flutter around her at the office; at home they do, too. She’s kind of thankful, though, because she spends a lot of her time at home resting and wanting to go to sleep. She’s exhausted constantly, and all her energy is used to get herself through the workday. Their concern is palpable and she almost pities them, but, really, right now, she mostly pities herself, because “morning,” or, really, all-fucking day, sickness is awful. Of course, it’s not the worst pain she’s ever felt, but it seems never-ending and it’s highly disconcerting that her body is revolting against her and her off-spring so horribly.
“A peanut-butter and jelly egg bagel, tortilla chips, and a ginger ale,” Spencer says, handing her a plate and glass as she lays reclined on the couch.
“My knight in shining armor, I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“What are you two having?”
“Emily, we’re going to eat with you; Derek is making ours now. I knew you were hungry and needed to eat before you got sick again,” Spencer replies and they sit on the couch eating their morning-sickness approved food.
“How are you feeling now, sweetheart?” Derek asks as she curls into the couch.
“Well,” she smiled, patting his leg.
Spencer turns on MythBusters and Emily can barely keep her eyes open through the experiments. She listens to Spencer explain to Derek why, from a physics perspective, the myth is not possible; while Derek disagrees arguing he’s seen it at some point in his life. She cannot make it to the ten o’clock news and inches up the stairs at half past nine. Derek comes up at ten; he knows how difficult it is for her to fall asleep alone. She likes the feeling of his arm draped over her navel; it grounds her in a way she never expected. Without his arm, she feels like the bed is spinning. For her, having morning sickness is like being perpetually hung-over; she’s dizzy, nauseous, needs grounding, and needs to eat small meals all-day long. She doesn’t get the benefits of a never ending bender but reaps all the nasty effects.
When she wakes up the next morning, she sits up slowly and leans against the headboard of their massive ultra-king bed. Spencer is still curled up on the other side of the bed. She can hear Derek putter around the bathroom as he gets ready for work. He exits the bathroom; a towel slung around his hips.
“Hey, what do you want this morning?” He asks softly as he heads to his dresser and pulls on a pair of boxers.
“Tea and toast,” she requests; her voice soft and her eyes squeezed against the phenomenon of the bed as a whirligig. She can hear him head downstairs to fix it.
“Does closing your eyes help?” Spencer asks as he returns from dreamland.
“It makes the sensation worse, but it’s easier to let it happen this way instead of trying to focus. I’ve always liked the tea cups, anyways; I just pretend I’m on the tea cups,” she responds and Spencer chuckles a little. Then he checks the weather and she tells him what she wants to wear that day. He lays out all the aspects of her clothes; she has to beg him not to mismatch her socks.
Derek returns with the whole wheat toast and ginger-lemon tea. She eats the toast first and then slowly drinks the tea. Derek grabs a cool towel and presses it to the back of her neck. Spencer gets ready and then she’s next. Their morning routine has gotten much longer since she’s gotten pregnant, but she didn’t even have to ask for their help or hint for it. They fell into their roles easily.
“I feel like such a burden,” she whispers into Derek’s neck when he sits next to her on the bed.
“Emily, you’re not a burden, you’re pregnant.”
“If I could do it for you, I would,” Spencer says as he exits the bathroom fully dressed.
“Thanks,” she whispers and she’s teary-eyed.
“Normally, the second trimester is better,” Spencer encourages.
“I hope so,” Emily whispers as she attempts to climb out of the bed and luckily, today, she isn’t overwhelmed by the violent need to empty her stomach contents. However, she still has to take a lukewarm shower, because a hot one might make her faint and/or vomit.
Pregnancy seemed like a tremendous abdication of control. Something growing inside you which would eventually usurp your life.-Erica Jong
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