It's A BAMF (1/?)
Title: It's A BAMF
Character/Pairing: Taylor/Wash
Word Count: 1034 for this chapter
Genre: Romance, Humor
Rating: T
Spoiler Alert: Season 1
Summary: She wasn't pregnant. There was no way. She didn't care how many knowing looks her husband gave her, forty year olds Didn't have babies. Author's Note: I have an unnatural love for baby!fics. BAMF baby!fics in particular, so I absolutely HAD to write this. It's post-finale, toss in any fix-it technique you want to rationalize how and why Wash is alive.
I don't own Terra Nova. Never will. (sadface) ON WITH THE FIC!!
"What."
It's not a question. She heard him perfectly well the first time, but the word flies out her mouth anyway as she stares at him in disbelief. The forkful of food she'd been getting ready to devour hangs limply in her hand.
"You're pregnant." He repeats, leaning back in his chair, hands folding over his stomach. Also not a question. More of a statement of fact, if anything. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he's calm about his supposition… almost disturbingly so. Alicia puts down her fork, dinner suddenly losing its appeal, and mimics her husband's pose.
"And just how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?" She asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone. Not five minutes earlier, they'd been having a perfectly normal evening; enjoying their meal in silence, comfortable in each other's company, when he decided, out of the clear blue sky, to share his "discovery" with her. He shrugs coolly.
"You're showing all the signs." He says as if he were discussing the weather, "The fatigue-"
"I told you, my alarm didn't go off." She cuts him off, referring to her excuse for nearly sleeping through dawn patrol that morning. She deliberately neglects to mention the fact that she'd almost missed patrols several other times in the past two weeks and nearly fell asleep during the a meeting with the science team the day before. Nathaniel is well aware of this, but chooses to ignore it. He cocks his head to the side before continuing. "The nausea?"
"There was a bug going around." She justifies lamely with a shrug, referring to the flu that had been going around the colony a few weeks ago. She disregards the fact that she never gets sick. Again, he's aware of this, but says nothing, continues with his list as if she hadn't spoken.
"I think you've packed on a couple of pounds, too. Your face looks more-" She sends a hard kick to his shin under the table, and his sentence breaks off with a sharp hiss of breath, his face contorting to a grimace. "Mood swings." He mutters under his breath, reaching down to rub his sore shin, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers.
She ignores the last one, glares at him and releases a huff of breath. "I'm on birth control, Nathaniel." She deflects, rolling her eyes and wanting more than anything to end the conversation and get back to her meal. He quirks a brow, "When'd you get your last shot?" He asks, resuming his earlier position, leaning back, hands resting on his midsection. Her brow furrows in thought for a moment. She'd gotten her last shot a week before their wedding…
Which had been six months ago.
The realization hits her like a bucket of ice water.
Shit.
Either she takes too long to respond, or her surprise is reflected on her face (probably a combination of the two), because Nathaniel is giving her a knowing look, a self-satisfied smirk etched on his face. She doesn't know whether she wants to slap the grin off his face or kiss it off. "I've been through this before, Wash." He says, leaning forward slightly, "I think I know a pregnant lady when I see one."
She narrows her eyes and kicks at him again; he's prepared for it this time and quickly moves his leg and catches her bare foot with both hands. His expression fades from smug to tender as he rubs her ankle with one hand, holds her heel in the other. She feels her irritation slip away from her almost instantly.
Damn him.
The faintest of smiles graces Nathaniel's face as he watches the frown lines fade from her face. "I want you to go see Elizabeth tomorrow." He says, slowly working his hand up and down her calf. She knows he's doing it to get her pliant enough to agree, and damn her if it's not working. She fights to stay irritated as she feels her traitorous body begin to react to his attentions, the feel of his calloused hands on her soft skin sending deliciously slow ripples of pleasure throughout her being.
"No." Her irritation grows as the word comes out breathy. She bites her lip, fights for control over the flame of desire Nathaniel is fueling with every stroke of his fingers.
"C'mon Wash," He drawls, his voice low, as his hand makes its way back up her leg, "For me?" He delights in the way her eyes flutter as his hand reaches the back of her knee and firmly rubs a particularly sensitive patch skin there. She bites back a groan and swallows hard before she speaks again.
"There's no point." She protests weakly. Once again, the words come out huskier than she intended.
Damn him again.
"Hmm…" he hums in mock contemplation, leans to reach his hands even further up her leg. "Better safe than sorry, don't you think?" he murmurs, his eyes still locked on hers. She opens her mouth to protest further, but all that comes out is a high-pitched squeak as he squeezes the back of her thigh, a jolt of arousal shooting straight to her core. Her eyes flutter closed.
A soft moan escapes her, and she can't bring herself to give a damn this time, not when he's leaning over the table to ghost his lips over hers. The feel of his warm breath on her face has her tingling in anticipation for the sizzling kiss he's surely about to give her. When it doesn't come, she releases the breath she didn't know she'd been holding and cracks open an eye to peer at her husband.
The damnable smirk is back on his face.
It's there again when she staggers out of the infirmary the next morning, shocked speechless, and finds him standing outside, arms crossed in front of his chest. She says nothing, and doesn't need to. The emotions playing on her face (confusion, surprise, fear) tell him all he needs to know. He stays silent, but his smirk widens, and she's too shocked to feel even the faintest twinge of annoyance at his smugness.
Damn him to hell.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Character/Pairing: Taylor/Wash
Word Count: 1034 for this chapter
Genre: Romance, Humor
Rating: T
Spoiler Alert: Season 1
Summary: She wasn't pregnant. There was no way. She didn't care how many knowing looks her husband gave her, forty year olds Didn't have babies. Author's Note: I have an unnatural love for baby!fics. BAMF baby!fics in particular, so I absolutely HAD to write this. It's post-finale, toss in any fix-it technique you want to rationalize how and why Wash is alive.
I don't own Terra Nova. Never will. (sadface) ON WITH THE FIC!!
"What."
It's not a question. She heard him perfectly well the first time, but the word flies out her mouth anyway as she stares at him in disbelief. The forkful of food she'd been getting ready to devour hangs limply in her hand.
"You're pregnant." He repeats, leaning back in his chair, hands folding over his stomach. Also not a question. More of a statement of fact, if anything. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he's calm about his supposition… almost disturbingly so. Alicia puts down her fork, dinner suddenly losing its appeal, and mimics her husband's pose.
"And just how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?" She asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone. Not five minutes earlier, they'd been having a perfectly normal evening; enjoying their meal in silence, comfortable in each other's company, when he decided, out of the clear blue sky, to share his "discovery" with her. He shrugs coolly.
"You're showing all the signs." He says as if he were discussing the weather, "The fatigue-"
"I told you, my alarm didn't go off." She cuts him off, referring to her excuse for nearly sleeping through dawn patrol that morning. She deliberately neglects to mention the fact that she'd almost missed patrols several other times in the past two weeks and nearly fell asleep during the a meeting with the science team the day before. Nathaniel is well aware of this, but chooses to ignore it. He cocks his head to the side before continuing. "The nausea?"
"There was a bug going around." She justifies lamely with a shrug, referring to the flu that had been going around the colony a few weeks ago. She disregards the fact that she never gets sick. Again, he's aware of this, but says nothing, continues with his list as if she hadn't spoken.
"I think you've packed on a couple of pounds, too. Your face looks more-" She sends a hard kick to his shin under the table, and his sentence breaks off with a sharp hiss of breath, his face contorting to a grimace. "Mood swings." He mutters under his breath, reaching down to rub his sore shin, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers.
She ignores the last one, glares at him and releases a huff of breath. "I'm on birth control, Nathaniel." She deflects, rolling her eyes and wanting more than anything to end the conversation and get back to her meal. He quirks a brow, "When'd you get your last shot?" He asks, resuming his earlier position, leaning back, hands resting on his midsection. Her brow furrows in thought for a moment. She'd gotten her last shot a week before their wedding…
Which had been six months ago.
The realization hits her like a bucket of ice water.
Shit.
Either she takes too long to respond, or her surprise is reflected on her face (probably a combination of the two), because Nathaniel is giving her a knowing look, a self-satisfied smirk etched on his face. She doesn't know whether she wants to slap the grin off his face or kiss it off. "I've been through this before, Wash." He says, leaning forward slightly, "I think I know a pregnant lady when I see one."
She narrows her eyes and kicks at him again; he's prepared for it this time and quickly moves his leg and catches her bare foot with both hands. His expression fades from smug to tender as he rubs her ankle with one hand, holds her heel in the other. She feels her irritation slip away from her almost instantly.
Damn him.
The faintest of smiles graces Nathaniel's face as he watches the frown lines fade from her face. "I want you to go see Elizabeth tomorrow." He says, slowly working his hand up and down her calf. She knows he's doing it to get her pliant enough to agree, and damn her if it's not working. She fights to stay irritated as she feels her traitorous body begin to react to his attentions, the feel of his calloused hands on her soft skin sending deliciously slow ripples of pleasure throughout her being.
"No." Her irritation grows as the word comes out breathy. She bites her lip, fights for control over the flame of desire Nathaniel is fueling with every stroke of his fingers.
"C'mon Wash," He drawls, his voice low, as his hand makes its way back up her leg, "For me?" He delights in the way her eyes flutter as his hand reaches the back of her knee and firmly rubs a particularly sensitive patch skin there. She bites back a groan and swallows hard before she speaks again.
"There's no point." She protests weakly. Once again, the words come out huskier than she intended.
Damn him again.
"Hmm…" he hums in mock contemplation, leans to reach his hands even further up her leg. "Better safe than sorry, don't you think?" he murmurs, his eyes still locked on hers. She opens her mouth to protest further, but all that comes out is a high-pitched squeak as he squeezes the back of her thigh, a jolt of arousal shooting straight to her core. Her eyes flutter closed.
A soft moan escapes her, and she can't bring herself to give a damn this time, not when he's leaning over the table to ghost his lips over hers. The feel of his warm breath on her face has her tingling in anticipation for the sizzling kiss he's surely about to give her. When it doesn't come, she releases the breath she didn't know she'd been holding and cracks open an eye to peer at her husband.
The damnable smirk is back on his face.
It's there again when she staggers out of the infirmary the next morning, shocked speechless, and finds him standing outside, arms crossed in front of his chest. She says nothing, and doesn't need to. The emotions playing on her face (confusion, surprise, fear) tell him all he needs to know. He stays silent, but his smirk widens, and she's too shocked to feel even the faintest twinge of annoyance at his smugness.
Damn him to hell.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3