Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Sweet Surprises ❯ Michael ( Chapter 8 )

“Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change.
I close my eyes, begin to pray
then tears of joy stream down my face
with arms wide open.”
- With Arms Wide Open, Creed, Greatest Hits

 

K smiled as he adjusted his tie then slipped into his shoulder straps, chuckling as he did so. He had to be the only businessman around who openly carried guns with him to work. But then, as far as he knew, he was the only manager who also acted like a bodyguard to his clients.

 

“Now that's the Claude I know,” a female voice chuckled. “It's good to see you without those dark circles under your eyes.”

 

He raised an eyebrow then turned to face Judy. She looked like how he felt. Refreshed and happy. Hawaii had been just what they'd needed. Not only were their careers back on track but their marriage was as well.

 

“I could say the same thing about you,” K murmured, moving towards her. “Of course, I could say a lot of things.”

 

“I know,” came her happy sigh, her arms wrapping around his neck as he embraced her. “Just wish I wasn't feeling so nauseous.”

 

“What?” Immediately, he felt her forehead. “How long have . . .?”

 

“Since we got back from Hawaii,” Judy confessed then added, “I've already made a doctor's appointment. I just got off the phone with them. It's for this afternoon. I figured you'd want to be there for it.”

 

“Damn right I do,” K growled playfully, nipping at her neck. “What time is it? I'll be at the studio to pick you up.”

 

“At four. That's the soonest they could get me in . . . thankfully, my auditions will be done by then.”

 

“Then I'll be there at three.” He gave her a long and deep kiss. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Nine months later . . .

 

“God damn you, Claude!”

 

Sweat beaded on Judy's forehead as she began to call him every name in the book and then some, another contraction hitting her. K winced as she continued, not so much from the name calling as from the pain and pressure in his hand. Judy had gotten a hold of his hand somehow . . . and hadn't let go. His fingers had turned purple from the circulation being cut off about two hours before. Still, he hadn't torn it away from her.

 

'It would figure,' he groused. 'First time I get her back in the sack, I get her pregnant. Again.'

 

The news of her second pregnancy had come with mixed emotions. Happiness at the news of another child . . . and fear of losing the child the same way the first one had been lost. It had taken him some time but K had finally managed to assure Judy that everything would fine. They took some extra precautions this time around. The couple certainly didn't want a repeat of the first pregnancy.

 

“You're doing fine, Ms Winchester,” the doctor stated as he checked her chart. Judy glared daggers at him.

 

“So easy for you to say,” she hissed through contractions. “You're not the one who's in pain, you walking dick!”

 

If it hadn't been for the pain in his hand, K would have laughed. He'd been called that not more than ten minutes ago and it felt rather nice to have Judy's harsh words directed at someone else. The doctor merely shook his head then placed the chart back at the foot of the bed. He sat on a small stool then moved the sheets.

 

“Okay, Ms Winchester, I'm going to check to see how far you've dilated . . . Remember, when you're at ten centimeters, we'll begin.”

 

“This kid is never going to come out,” Judy sobbed, her head flopping onto her pillow and her chest rising rapidly. She still hadn't released his hand. “He's going to stay in there forever . . . I just know it.”

 

“No, he isn't, baby,” K soothed, using his free hand to smooth back her hair. “He'll be born before you know it.”

“How can you . . .” she began.

 

“We're ready,” the doctor announced, cutting her off. “You're at ten centimeters, Ms Winchester.”

 

“Here we go, baby,” K whispered. Though he'd been a nervous wreck the entire time, he wasn't about to let it show. One of them had to be calm and focused.

 

Twenty minutes, the cry of an infant filled the room . . .