Jun. 8th, 2006

stbethadettes: (at rest)
She'd been dreaming.

Dreaming about the baby and walking around the Georgetown campus in only one of those Venusian Vanilla shirts of Spike's.

It wasn't a bad dream, really, but she woke suddenly and pointed her toes, stretched her legs.

And promptly got a fucking cramp in her calf.

Fuck!

Being this pregnant is not conducive to bolting into an upright position and immediately clutching at her leg. It takes her a little time, but she gets there: propped up on one hand, the other kneading that cramping muscle, and her eyes squinting so much they're all but shut in that kind of pain that's so damn bad you can't quite stay still.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Waking Spike in the middle of the night, purposefully or accidentally, is something she tries not to do these days.

Of course, it used to be that she'd only wake up and want to wrap herself around him or have sex or just feel that he was there. Waking before morning these days often means having to run to the bathroom or needing to shift and get more comfortable.

Fuck.

Besides, if this ever happened back at St. Bernadette's, she'd have had to take care of herself.

Quietly, she rubs and rubs and rubs until it doesn't hurt so goddamn much, even if it does still feel stiff. Then she lets her arm slowly slide out from under her and turns to sleep on her other side, having to wrap her arms around herself now rather than around Spike.

The baby kicks as if it's unhappy with the whole turn of events, and yeah, she kind of thinks it's worth a kick or two.

Moving back until her back touches Spike, she lets her cheek hit the pillow and her eyes close again.

Sleep'll come. It always does eventually.

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stbethadettes

January 2009

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