Fic'ing to Christmas - Day Ten (late) - FIC: Labor
Title: Labor
Prompter: musesinspire
Prompt: Terminator Salvation // John/Kate // Kate is in labor // Humor
Rating: FR13
Betas: kaylashay81 and avamclean
Fandom: Terminator Salvation
Disclaimer: The characters of Terminator belong to Fox, James Cameron, etc. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
Labor, it turned out, should have been how Skynet tried to kill John Connor. He sat besides Kate’s bedside, on a metal stool that wobbled and had no back support, while his wife dug her just-this-side-of-too-long fingernails into John’s palm. He had to wonder, as blood welled up from the little half-moons, whether she’d been growing them out just for this occasion as he hadn’t remembered them that long before.
“Kate,” he hesitantly drew her attention. Her grip tightened, and he winced as another fresh wave of pain emanated from his palm.
She turned to him, red hair plastered to her brow with sweat, eyes dilated with pain, and he was hard pressed to remember another time she was that beautiful. But he wisely kept his mouth shut, especially given the look in her eyes.
He shook his head, his request for her to loosen her grip dying in his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go get you something for the pain?” came out instead. Though from the way her eyes narrowed on him, he supposed that wasn’t the best question either.
“Oh no, John, you aren’t getting out of this that easily. You did this to me, and you will be here for the whole thing,” she replied, and he heard one of Kate’s medical team snickering under her breath before she beat a hasty retreat out of the room.
“I wasn’t,” he started to explain but closed his mouth, knowing at this point any explanation would be met with an angry counter argument.
“Other people need those drugs. Despite the pain, I’m not dying,” she continued, and he felt himself readily nodding in agreement.
She did have a point, sometimes the drugs were needed for others in far worse condition than her, but certainly other women had accepted drugs during their labor. He scooted his stool forward, legs shifting to balance himself as the stool tilted, shifting his weight. He reached out with his free hand, bringing it up to push her damp hair off her forehead.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered to her.
A snort of disbelief escaped her, but her fingers marginally eased their death grip on his hand. His mouth tilted up on one side as she rolled her eyes, “Flattery will not help you out of this situation,” she whispered back.
Her death grip on his hand shifted, her fingers sliding between his own, squeezing down hard again as another wave of contractions hit. Her eyes squeezed shut with the pain and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. He gazed down at her, blown away by her strength in enduring so much to bring his child, their child, into the world. A world where he wasn’t sure they would win and defeat the machines, but a world where he’d do everything in his power to try, to give others hope.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered to her, squeezing her hand back, lending his strength to her with his voice.
Prompter: musesinspire
Prompt: Terminator Salvation // John/Kate // Kate is in labor // Humor
Rating: FR13
Betas: kaylashay81 and avamclean
Fandom: Terminator Salvation
Disclaimer: The characters of Terminator belong to Fox, James Cameron, etc. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
Labor, it turned out, should have been how Skynet tried to kill John Connor. He sat besides Kate’s bedside, on a metal stool that wobbled and had no back support, while his wife dug her just-this-side-of-too-long fingernails into John’s palm. He had to wonder, as blood welled up from the little half-moons, whether she’d been growing them out just for this occasion as he hadn’t remembered them that long before.
“Kate,” he hesitantly drew her attention. Her grip tightened, and he winced as another fresh wave of pain emanated from his palm.
She turned to him, red hair plastered to her brow with sweat, eyes dilated with pain, and he was hard pressed to remember another time she was that beautiful. But he wisely kept his mouth shut, especially given the look in her eyes.
He shook his head, his request for her to loosen her grip dying in his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go get you something for the pain?” came out instead. Though from the way her eyes narrowed on him, he supposed that wasn’t the best question either.
“Oh no, John, you aren’t getting out of this that easily. You did this to me, and you will be here for the whole thing,” she replied, and he heard one of Kate’s medical team snickering under her breath before she beat a hasty retreat out of the room.
“I wasn’t,” he started to explain but closed his mouth, knowing at this point any explanation would be met with an angry counter argument.
“Other people need those drugs. Despite the pain, I’m not dying,” she continued, and he felt himself readily nodding in agreement.
She did have a point, sometimes the drugs were needed for others in far worse condition than her, but certainly other women had accepted drugs during their labor. He scooted his stool forward, legs shifting to balance himself as the stool tilted, shifting his weight. He reached out with his free hand, bringing it up to push her damp hair off her forehead.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered to her.
A snort of disbelief escaped her, but her fingers marginally eased their death grip on his hand. His mouth tilted up on one side as she rolled her eyes, “Flattery will not help you out of this situation,” she whispered back.
Her death grip on his hand shifted, her fingers sliding between his own, squeezing down hard again as another wave of contractions hit. Her eyes squeezed shut with the pain and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. He gazed down at her, blown away by her strength in enduring so much to bring his child, their child, into the world. A world where he wasn’t sure they would win and defeat the machines, but a world where he’d do everything in his power to try, to give others hope.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered to her, squeezing her hand back, lending his strength to her with his voice.