Well. Don't I feel stupid, standing there with my robe wide open hugging Angel as though I never want him to let go. A small part of my brain tells me I should consider myself lucky not to be wearing sweats or slacks or even underwear because then things would've been even *more* embarrassing.
Humiliating. Humilia*ted*. That's how I feel. And I know women don't feel that way but they're the ones who are supposed to get pregnant. Not men, not I. I'm not supposed to waddle around looking like an extremely fat elephant who can't see his feet or his cock or that matter! Who eats everything in sight only to throw it up again. Who either wants to shag Angel raw or wants to beat him up with until his fists are raw.
"I hate this," I mutter against Angel's shoulder, finally unwrapping one arm from around him to pull my robe around me a little. Well, as much as possible, which isn't much. I'm going to need to go shopping soon. Bigger clothes, since I'm running out of sweatpants and sweat shirts. I don't even fit into my underwear anymore. I hate this. I really hate this.
"I'm not beautiful," I sniff, taking a deep shuddering breath as I lean my forehead against his shoulder. I keep my eyes closed for a moment and think about how I can't deny his love for me. Not anymore. Why else would he bloody well put up with the things I do to him? It can't be just because of the baby can it? It-- he's not going to send me away the moment the baby is born is he?
Pulling my head from his shoulder I look at him with tired, exhausted eyes. I let the hand stroking through my hair comfort me for a moment but once that dumb, stupid question has popped up it wont go away. Blast!
I shake my head at his question and instead look at him while this anxious feeling inside me grows. "Why?" I ask quietly instead. "I mean-- why do you love me?" The hand clutching the robe moves to my stomach, rubbing over it as though wanting to point out the only reason Angel can love me right now.
Okay, it's a little bit of a surprise that Wesley's clinging so tightly. Not that he shouldn't but, you know, the crazy hormones... I wasn't actually expecting it to happen even though I kinda wanted it to. So I keep hugging.
"I know," I murmur, sympathizing with him. Hey, I kinda hate it too. I'd be happy to have my mild-mannered Wes back any time. Still love this one, but... I think it's going to be a big relief to have Wes back to... semi-normal.
"I think you are," I tell him quietly, still stroking his hair and trying to be comforting. Plus, you know, I actually mean it. The stroking slows to a stop when Wes looks up at me with those big eyes and asks me why I love him though. My hand slides down to curve along his neck and rest on his shoulder while I try to find the right words.
"Because." I cup his cheek in my hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone softly, not exactly sure who I'm comforting with that touch. "You do everything you can to protect me, keep me safe. Don't know that many people who stick their neck out the way you do for a vampire," I tell him with a small smile. "You- You love everything about me, even that stuff I don't love about me," I murmur. Or you accept it really well. That's probably more accurate, but either way, he still loves me in spite of it. "You are the most giving, kind, caring person in my life, Wes. Your heart is big enough for both of us." I pull his hand up from his belly to my chest, my own covering his hand over the mark.
"You're a great dad, a great partner, and I want you by my side as long as humanly possible." I add, getting a little wobbly myself at that thought. At this point, not having Wes' kind voice, smart advice, sharp tongue, and adoring eyes with me would be... It would be torture. He's become more than just a fixture in my life, he's become a permanent part of my life, as his mark so clearly shows. I wonder if it would disappear if he died. I squeeze his hand tightly - more tightly than I should - over my heart at the thought.
"You're mine and I'm yours. That's why," I say finally, figuring that's really the best explanation before I lean to kiss his forehead gently.
Angel. A man- pire, no a man, to me he's a man. Not just a vampire, or the champion or the big hero, or Angelus. To me he's Angel the man who's Connor's father, who's the father of our child-- god, that still doesn't sound right. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that *I'm* the one who's pregnant, even if the evidence is clear as day.
At any rate, my Angel is not a man of words. I knew that even before we got into this relation ship. He's a man of action, he's the fellow who'll pick up a weapon and looks at us until we point him to the thing he's to beat into submission. Words are not his thing and he often says just the... wrong thing. Especially lately it would seem.
But sometimes, just sometimes he gets it just right. And as I listen to him I know this is one of those times. If he keeps this up I'm really going to cry. Swallowing hard I realise that it's a bit late for me to think that since I already seem to be crying. Blast. Bugger and damnation. Angel's going to think you're such a girl. Well... Maybe I'm the pregnant one for a reason.
Still, there's a small, soft smile taking over my face as he keeps on talking. A smile which slowly turns into that adoring one when I feel so much love for him I think I might burst. Of course most of it isn't true. I mean, I know I'm not a good father and I know I can't keep Angel safe or protect him, despite my best efforts. But for now that doesn't matter.
What does matter is the 'as humanly possible'. Hearing him say that makes me swallow hard again to keep myself from crying loudly. It's not fair. It's not fair that I'll die long before Angel and-and that he'll-- what if I die when this child is born? What then?
My eyes close when he kisses my forehead and I push those thoughts violently away. Not now, I don't want to think about those now. What I want is to bask in his other words, the ones that have me feeling like I'm laying in a hot relaxing bath.
"I knew it," I whisper, opening wet eyes to look at him with open affection. "Beach whales turn you on, don't they?" I lean in and press my lips to the mark on his chest, letting the kiss linger for a moment. There's a that tingling feeling again, moving from my head to my toes. Wonder if Angel can feel it as well.
"Yours. Always,” I assure him. “For someone who claims not to know what to say.... I love you too, my Angel," I mumble against his chest, sighing when the rumbling of my stomach interrupts our moment, followed by the sounds of Connor waking up. "Damn."
The tears, they're not so unusual these days and if it weren't for that adoring, sweet smile on his face I might think that I got it all wrong, that I said the entirely wrong thing.
But he's looking at me...like he used to before this happened. Like I mean the world to him and that I give him the world every time I look at him or tell him I love him.
It's a relief.
I lean in to kiss his tears gently, wiping my thumb over his damp cheeks tenderly. He's mine and I'm his, that's really all there is to us. That's all either of us needs to know, I think.
My hand curls over his stomach just as he kisses the mark on my chest and for a moment everything feels full circle, we're all connected through this crazy thing - and part of me suspects that his mark and this child are a pair of some sort. They're related. There wouldn't be one without the other. The price of the spell, perhaps. We altered the unalterable. Made the impossible happen in more ways than one. We did the impossible and the spell did the impossible right back to us.
I smile at Wes, chuckling lightly at his teasing. "You turn me on more and more every day, tiger," I say, shaking my head with a smile, arms looped around his waist. I give a kiss to his forehead once he's done making me tingle everywhere with that kiss. My hand curves through his hair, keeping him close-- until Connor makes himself known, and Wes...is well, Wes these days.
"If you're finished here in the bathroom you, kind sir, are going back to bed so I can give you breakfast in bed - dinner, whatever it is - after I go change our son," I say, kissing his forehead again. Might put Connor in bed with Wes too. They're very cute together. I think Connor would love to use Wes' stomach as a climbing feature if we'd let him. Heh.
I'd laugh at his comment that I turn him on more and more these days. Because I cannot imagine that having seen myself in the mirror. There wasn't much to look at before this whole-- thing, pregnancy, but it's even worse now. Oh there's a whole lot more to look at, considering the size of me that keeps on growing and growing, but it's not making me look any *better*. And that wasn't all that great before.
The laugh doesn't come out though, instead there's a soft smile when he calls me 'Tiger'. I sort of melt everytime he does that it seems, now even more so what with these hormones running rampage. I feel his hand on my stomach, the other one in my hair and sigh contently. That's how I feel right now, even if it lasts for only a second or two. Content.
Of course that's when my body throws a wrench into things. And Connor starts to cry. My natural instinct is to run to Connor and soothe him. Which is rather strange considering I'm always the one telling Angel not to run whenever the boy makes a sound or else he'll never learn. Since I'm expecting, however, I seem to want to protect *everyone* I consider family.
Not just Angel and Connor, but Gunn, Cordelia, Lorne and Fred as well. To the point where I feared going out hunting demons and stayed behind. Wanting to rip demons apart with my bare hands is not a pleasant feeling. Besides, its better for our unborn child if I stay behind and don't take any risks.
"Breakfast sounds nice," I tell him, wiping the back of my hands over my face. I notice my still open robe and wince when I see my naked self. "Need to put on a pair of sweatpants first," I tell him, using Angel to turn around and waddle back to the bedroom. God, I really need to buy more clothes. Or have Cordy do it, I don't want to go outside any longer. Not looking like this.
"You should go check on poor Connor," I mumbled, straining and groaning as I try to bend down to pick up a pair of sweats from the floor. "I'll be-- waiting here-- for you ugh..."
I reach down and snag the sweats Wes is trying to reach for and hand them to him before he throws out his back, falls over, or breaks out in tears again. None of those options I want. "Okay, tiger. Back to bed. I'll be right back once Connor's cleaned up," I tell him, trotting to the nursery.
Connor's wiggling - with that face he gets when he needs a new diaper - which I didn't need to see to know that since my nose was well aware of it, but it's nice to know I can identify my son's problems without having to be a superhuman vampire.
"Good morning, little man," I coo at him, lifting him from the crib and taking care of business. Once he's got new a new diaper and clothes - smelling much nicer as well - I take a moment to kiss his soft forehead. "That's my boy," I say as the cries subside finally. "Let's go see, papa," I tell him, carrying him back into the other room.
"Ready for a Connor delivery? One clean boy coming up," I tell Wes before handing Connor over so that I can go make breakfast. "Anything in particular that you want for breakfast?" I ask, already padding into the kitchen. I know what Connor wants. Heh. Well, Connor's not all that picky as long as it's food and it's ready when he wants it. I work on the formula first, waiting to hear what Wes wants, even though I could probably predict that it's going to be something like, 'whatever you feel like making, love.' Yeah, something like that, I think with a smile. Pregnancy or not, I know my Wes.
"Thank you," I pant, when he hands me my sweats. His sweats? At this point I'm not even certain whose clothes I'm wearing. But since I've become unable to wear most of my own clothes it's a good bet it's either his sweats or maybe even Gunn's. I really need to get some new clothes, but the fact of the matter is that there are no maternity clothes for men.
Unless-- there's some demonic clothes shop for pregnant males. I know there are species out there that- I should ask Lorne. As long as they don't have utterly ridiculous clothes, like say big dresses, which might be a solution.
With a sigh I crawl back into bed, puling the covers halfway over me. My back is killing me and so are my feet not to mention that I feel like some inflatable disgusting blob of something. I am never, ever chancing getting in this state again. Pregnant I mean. It's rather hard to believe that from now on Angel and I are going to have to use *protection* when we make love.
Good lord.
"Hmmm?" Struggling to sit up, I blink up at Angel who appears with Connor. It would seem I was on the verge of dozing off again. Happens far to often lately but I guess that's my body's way of dealing with things? It's not as though I have *any* idea, I've never been expecting before and I have no one, no other human male, to compare it with. Or talk about with. Sometimes I feel very lonely.
"Hey there little man," I smile, reaching out for the boy. Just having him near lifts my spirits up for reasons I don't even know. It just does. I put him down on the bed, making sure to cradle him so he doesn't tumble backward. The boy had been trying to sit for a while now and he's-- well he's trying, let’s keep it at that.
"Hmmm. Breakfast?" My mouth waters and my eyes go slightly unfocused while my stomach lets out a loud growl. Loud enough to make Connor giggle. "Oh I'd like some tea and toast please," I tell him with a smile. "And some eggs, boiled and baked. Some fried tomatoes, sausage with ketchup, some orange juice, some hmmmm, some fried bacon would be nice. Oh! And pickles with onions. Yes. Oh and some ice-cream. I think I'll just have a light breakfast this morning, love," I say, giving him a beaming smile, while Connor plays with my - far to fat - fingers.
There's an adoring smile on my face before I head for the kitchen. He really does love that little boy. And that in itself is beyond adorable. Wes' entire face brightens when Connor's around. Heh, there goes Connor waving his hands around. Not sure if it's a balance thing, or if he's excited, or if he's waving to Wes' pregnant belly, but it's pretty darn cute whatever the reason behind it.
The formula doesn't take me long - had this routine down for awhile now it seems like, I suppose. But when the list that comes from the bedroom reaches my ears, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from chuckling. Yes, a very small breakfast. I come back into the bedroom with the formula only to see Wes' beaming face. And I lean in to kiss him before handing him the bottle. I run a big hand over Connor's head before heading back in the direction of the kitchen. "That's all, huh?" I say with a smile. "I'll get it started while you feed Connor."
Padding back into the kitchen and shaking my head to myself I get started on this smorgasbord that Wes-- is really going to eat all of, isn't he? He sure can pack away a lot these days. I seriously hope this kid isn't some sort of giant. That could pose some problems. Nothing that's not solvable, but... Wow. Anyway. Food.
I listen to Connor making little noises now and then. Nothing close to language, but it makes me smile. As does this massive amount of food. I'd better re-stock on eggs soon. He seems to go through them like crazy. Maybe I'll ask Gunn and Cordy make a grocery run.
It always takes me by surprise and like some sort of shock... after the list spills from my list. The moment I ramble it off - and it happens more often then not lately, not only toward Angel - I see nothing wrong with my request. Only a few seconds after the fact is when I realize how *ridiculous* it must sound to others. And yet, I can't take it back, can't help still *wanting* it, needing it, especially when it comes to food.
Eating for two, the brochure said, they weren't making a joke like I thought. They really weren't making a joke. I am eating for two, if not more, but that might be because previously I wasn't even eating for one. I never needed much in the way of food, as Cordelia was only to happy to point out whenever she could.
'Don't stand so close to me, Wes,' she'd say, 'you're so 'lean',' and air quotes were used when she said that, 'you make my hips seem fat!' She's quite the funny girl our Cordelia. Just because I never ate much doesn't mean I'm thin? What I am now though is fat. Oh so bloody fat.
I look up at Angel embarrassed, dark red flushing my cheek as he hands me the bottle. "I--" I start to mutter, no doubt trying to come up with another apology but utterly failing. Not that it matters much since Angel has already vanished toward the kitchen. Almost happily so.
"People wont envy you for the strange, strange family you've been thrown into," I tell Connor with a small sigh as I adjust him in my arms. Moment's later he's gladly sucking from the bottle, both hands curling around it as though he wants to hold it himself. I let go of the bottle and watch with a smile as he *does* hold onto it himself. Quite a proud smile, as though the boy has done something earth shattering.
"Angel," I stage whisper, "love, come look," I keep grinning down at our boy holding onto his own bottle, almost sitting upright and looking so-- big. Where does the time go?
Humiliating. Humilia*ted*. That's how I feel. And I know women don't feel that way but they're the ones who are supposed to get pregnant. Not men, not I. I'm not supposed to waddle around looking like an extremely fat elephant who can't see his feet or his cock or that matter! Who eats everything in sight only to throw it up again. Who either wants to shag Angel raw or wants to beat him up with until his fists are raw.
"I hate this," I mutter against Angel's shoulder, finally unwrapping one arm from around him to pull my robe around me a little. Well, as much as possible, which isn't much. I'm going to need to go shopping soon. Bigger clothes, since I'm running out of sweatpants and sweat shirts. I don't even fit into my underwear anymore. I hate this. I really hate this.
"I'm not beautiful," I sniff, taking a deep shuddering breath as I lean my forehead against his shoulder. I keep my eyes closed for a moment and think about how I can't deny his love for me. Not anymore. Why else would he bloody well put up with the things I do to him? It can't be just because of the baby can it? It-- he's not going to send me away the moment the baby is born is he?
Pulling my head from his shoulder I look at him with tired, exhausted eyes. I let the hand stroking through my hair comfort me for a moment but once that dumb, stupid question has popped up it wont go away. Blast!
I shake my head at his question and instead look at him while this anxious feeling inside me grows. "Why?" I ask quietly instead. "I mean-- why do you love me?" The hand clutching the robe moves to my stomach, rubbing over it as though wanting to point out the only reason Angel can love me right now.
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"I know," I murmur, sympathizing with him. Hey, I kinda hate it too. I'd be happy to have my mild-mannered Wes back any time. Still love this one, but... I think it's going to be a big relief to have Wes back to... semi-normal.
"I think you are," I tell him quietly, still stroking his hair and trying to be comforting. Plus, you know, I actually mean it. The stroking slows to a stop when Wes looks up at me with those big eyes and asks me why I love him though. My hand slides down to curve along his neck and rest on his shoulder while I try to find the right words.
"Because." I cup his cheek in my hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone softly, not exactly sure who I'm comforting with that touch. "You do everything you can to protect me, keep me safe. Don't know that many people who stick their neck out the way you do for a vampire," I tell him with a small smile. "You- You love everything about me, even that stuff I don't love about me," I murmur. Or you accept it really well. That's probably more accurate, but either way, he still loves me in spite of it. "You are the most giving, kind, caring person in my life, Wes. Your heart is big enough for both of us." I pull his hand up from his belly to my chest, my own covering his hand over the mark.
"You're a great dad, a great partner, and I want you by my side as long as humanly possible." I add, getting a little wobbly myself at that thought. At this point, not having Wes' kind voice, smart advice, sharp tongue, and adoring eyes with me would be... It would be torture. He's become more than just a fixture in my life, he's become a permanent part of my life, as his mark so clearly shows. I wonder if it would disappear if he died. I squeeze his hand tightly - more tightly than I should - over my heart at the thought.
"You're mine and I'm yours. That's why," I say finally, figuring that's really the best explanation before I lean to kiss his forehead gently.
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At any rate, my Angel is not a man of words. I knew that even before we got into this relation ship. He's a man of action, he's the fellow who'll pick up a weapon and looks at us until we point him to the thing he's to beat into submission. Words are not his thing and he often says just the... wrong thing. Especially lately it would seem.
But sometimes, just sometimes he gets it just right. And as I listen to him I know this is one of those times. If he keeps this up I'm really going to cry. Swallowing hard I realise that it's a bit late for me to think that since I already seem to be crying. Blast. Bugger and damnation. Angel's going to think you're such a girl. Well... Maybe I'm the pregnant one for a reason.
Still, there's a small, soft smile taking over my face as he keeps on talking. A smile which slowly turns into that adoring one when I feel so much love for him I think I might burst. Of course most of it isn't true. I mean, I know I'm not a good father and I know I can't keep Angel safe or protect him, despite my best efforts. But for now that doesn't matter.
What does matter is the 'as humanly possible'. Hearing him say that makes me swallow hard again to keep myself from crying loudly. It's not fair. It's not fair that I'll die long before Angel and-and that he'll-- what if I die when this child is born? What then?
My eyes close when he kisses my forehead and I push those thoughts violently away. Not now, I don't want to think about those now. What I want is to bask in his other words, the ones that have me feeling like I'm laying in a hot relaxing bath.
"I knew it," I whisper, opening wet eyes to look at him with open affection. "Beach whales turn you on, don't they?" I lean in and press my lips to the mark on his chest, letting the kiss linger for a moment. There's a that tingling feeling again, moving from my head to my toes. Wonder if Angel can feel it as well.
"Yours. Always,” I assure him. “For someone who claims not to know what to say.... I love you too, my Angel," I mumble against his chest, sighing when the rumbling of my stomach interrupts our moment, followed by the sounds of Connor waking up. "Damn."
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But he's looking at me...like he used to before this happened. Like I mean the world to him and that I give him the world every time I look at him or tell him I love him.
It's a relief.
I lean in to kiss his tears gently, wiping my thumb over his damp cheeks tenderly. He's mine and I'm his, that's really all there is to us. That's all either of us needs to know, I think.
My hand curls over his stomach just as he kisses the mark on my chest and for a moment everything feels full circle, we're all connected through this crazy thing - and part of me suspects that his mark and this child are a pair of some sort. They're related. There wouldn't be one without the other. The price of the spell, perhaps. We altered the unalterable. Made the impossible happen in more ways than one. We did the impossible and the spell did the impossible right back to us.
I smile at Wes, chuckling lightly at his teasing. "You turn me on more and more every day, tiger," I say, shaking my head with a smile, arms looped around his waist. I give a kiss to his forehead once he's done making me tingle everywhere with that kiss. My hand curves through his hair, keeping him close-- until Connor makes himself known, and Wes...is well, Wes these days.
"If you're finished here in the bathroom you, kind sir, are going back to bed so I can give you breakfast in bed - dinner, whatever it is - after I go change our son," I say, kissing his forehead again. Might put Connor in bed with Wes too. They're very cute together. I think Connor would love to use Wes' stomach as a climbing feature if we'd let him. Heh.
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The laugh doesn't come out though, instead there's a soft smile when he calls me 'Tiger'. I sort of melt everytime he does that it seems, now even more so what with these hormones running rampage. I feel his hand on my stomach, the other one in my hair and sigh contently. That's how I feel right now, even if it lasts for only a second or two. Content.
Of course that's when my body throws a wrench into things. And Connor starts to cry. My natural instinct is to run to Connor and soothe him. Which is rather strange considering I'm always the one telling Angel not to run whenever the boy makes a sound or else he'll never learn. Since I'm expecting, however, I seem to want to protect *everyone* I consider family.
Not just Angel and Connor, but Gunn, Cordelia, Lorne and Fred as well. To the point where I feared going out hunting demons and stayed behind. Wanting to rip demons apart with my bare hands is not a pleasant feeling. Besides, its better for our unborn child if I stay behind and don't take any risks.
"Breakfast sounds nice," I tell him, wiping the back of my hands over my face. I notice my still open robe and wince when I see my naked self. "Need to put on a pair of sweatpants first," I tell him, using Angel to turn around and waddle back to the bedroom. God, I really need to buy more clothes. Or have Cordy do it, I don't want to go outside any longer. Not looking like this.
"You should go check on poor Connor," I mumbled, straining and groaning as I try to bend down to pick up a pair of sweats from the floor. "I'll be-- waiting here-- for you ugh..."
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Connor's wiggling - with that face he gets when he needs a new diaper - which I didn't need to see to know that since my nose was well aware of it, but it's nice to know I can identify my son's problems without having to be a superhuman vampire.
"Good morning, little man," I coo at him, lifting him from the crib and taking care of business. Once he's got new a new diaper and clothes - smelling much nicer as well - I take a moment to kiss his soft forehead. "That's my boy," I say as the cries subside finally. "Let's go see, papa," I tell him, carrying him back into the other room.
"Ready for a Connor delivery? One clean boy coming up," I tell Wes before handing Connor over so that I can go make breakfast. "Anything in particular that you want for breakfast?" I ask, already padding into the kitchen. I know what Connor wants. Heh. Well, Connor's not all that picky as long as it's food and it's ready when he wants it. I work on the formula first, waiting to hear what Wes wants, even though I could probably predict that it's going to be something like, 'whatever you feel like making, love.' Yeah, something like that, I think with a smile. Pregnancy or not, I know my Wes.
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Unless-- there's some demonic clothes shop for pregnant males. I know there are species out there that- I should ask Lorne. As long as they don't have utterly ridiculous clothes, like say big dresses, which might be a solution.
With a sigh I crawl back into bed, puling the covers halfway over me. My back is killing me and so are my feet not to mention that I feel like some inflatable disgusting blob of something. I am never, ever chancing getting in this state again. Pregnant I mean. It's rather hard to believe that from now on Angel and I are going to have to use *protection* when we make love.
Good lord.
"Hmmm?" Struggling to sit up, I blink up at Angel who appears with Connor. It would seem I was on the verge of dozing off again. Happens far to often lately but I guess that's my body's way of dealing with things? It's not as though I have *any* idea, I've never been expecting before and I have no one, no other human male, to compare it with. Or talk about with. Sometimes I feel very lonely.
"Hey there little man," I smile, reaching out for the boy. Just having him near lifts my spirits up for reasons I don't even know. It just does. I put him down on the bed, making sure to cradle him so he doesn't tumble backward. The boy had been trying to sit for a while now and he's-- well he's trying, let’s keep it at that.
"Hmmm. Breakfast?" My mouth waters and my eyes go slightly unfocused while my stomach lets out a loud growl. Loud enough to make Connor giggle. "Oh I'd like some tea and toast please," I tell him with a smile. "And some eggs, boiled and baked. Some fried tomatoes, sausage with ketchup, some orange juice, some hmmmm, some fried bacon would be nice. Oh! And pickles with onions. Yes. Oh and some ice-cream. I think I'll just have a light breakfast this morning, love," I say, giving him a beaming smile, while Connor plays with my - far to fat - fingers.
"And a few extra pillows?"
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The formula doesn't take me long - had this routine down for awhile now it seems like, I suppose. But when the list that comes from the bedroom reaches my ears, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from chuckling. Yes, a very small breakfast. I come back into the bedroom with the formula only to see Wes' beaming face. And I lean in to kiss him before handing him the bottle. I run a big hand over Connor's head before heading back in the direction of the kitchen. "That's all, huh?" I say with a smile. "I'll get it started while you feed Connor."
Padding back into the kitchen and shaking my head to myself I get started on this smorgasbord that Wes-- is really going to eat all of, isn't he? He sure can pack away a lot these days. I seriously hope this kid isn't some sort of giant. That could pose some problems. Nothing that's not solvable, but... Wow. Anyway. Food.
I listen to Connor making little noises now and then. Nothing close to language, but it makes me smile. As does this massive amount of food. I'd better re-stock on eggs soon. He seems to go through them like crazy. Maybe I'll ask Gunn and Cordy make a grocery run.
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Eating for two, the brochure said, they weren't making a joke like I thought. They really weren't making a joke. I am eating for two, if not more, but that might be because previously I wasn't even eating for one. I never needed much in the way of food, as Cordelia was only to happy to point out whenever she could.
'Don't stand so close to me, Wes,' she'd say, 'you're so 'lean',' and air quotes were used when she said that, 'you make my hips seem fat!' She's quite the funny girl our Cordelia. Just because I never ate much doesn't mean I'm thin? What I am now though is fat. Oh so bloody fat.
I look up at Angel embarrassed, dark red flushing my cheek as he hands me the bottle. "I--" I start to mutter, no doubt trying to come up with another apology but utterly failing. Not that it matters much since Angel has already vanished toward the kitchen. Almost happily so.
"People wont envy you for the strange, strange family you've been thrown into," I tell Connor with a small sigh as I adjust him in my arms. Moment's later he's gladly sucking from the bottle, both hands curling around it as though he wants to hold it himself. I let go of the bottle and watch with a smile as he *does* hold onto it himself. Quite a proud smile, as though the boy has done something earth shattering.
"Angel," I stage whisper, "love, come look," I keep grinning down at our boy holding onto his own bottle, almost sitting upright and looking so-- big. Where does the time go?
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