As you push, you see Soda sprint down the hallway past your room in his DX shirt, then do a double take and trip back into your hospital room.
“OUT! OUT! Sodapop Curtis you get the fuck outta this room right now or so help me we are never having anymore children. You’ll be lucky if you even get to have sex with me anymore!” You scream at him.
The look of pure fear crosses Soda’s face, and he bolts out of the room.
You see Ponyboy out of the corner of your eye biting his lip, trying not to laugh.
You hear Soda from the hall. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”
“Oh shut the hell up I don’t need any encouragement. I’ve been doing fuckin fine on my own, thank you very much!” You yell. A contraction hits, making you push. You squeeze Ponyboy’s hand. Hard. He winces.
“Come on! I’m the one pushing a baby out of my boy-howdy and your wincing because I’m holding your hand to hard?” You ask in disbelief.
“You have a death grip on me!” Ponyboy accuses.
“Hey, be nice to her!” Soda yells from the hall.
“Shut up, Curtis!” You yell back at him.
“I love you babe, you’re doing-“
“Yeah yeah love you too.” You say.
The doctor chuckles, amused. “Well, I’m thinking two more pushes and were gonna have a baby.”
“Well it’s about fuckin time.” You groan.
Another contraction. You push.
“Ok, keep pushing.” The doctor says. You scrunch your face from the pain. You squeeze Ponyboy’s hand even harder than you were before.
All of a sudden, a baby cries.
“OUT! OUT! Sodapop Curtis you get the fuck outta this room right now or so help me we are never having anymore children. You’ll be lucky if you even get to have sex with me anymore!” You scream at him.
The look of pure fear crosses Soda’s face, and he bolts out of the room.
You see Ponyboy out of the corner of your eye biting his lip, trying not to laugh.
You hear Soda from the hall. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”
“Oh shut the hell up I don’t need any encouragement. I’ve been doing fuckin fine on my own, thank you very much!” You yell. A contraction hits, making you push. You squeeze Ponyboy’s hand. Hard. He winces.
“Come on! I’m the one pushing a baby out of my boy-howdy and your wincing because I’m holding your hand to hard?” You ask in disbelief.
“You have a death grip on me!” Ponyboy accuses.
“Hey, be nice to her!” Soda yells from the hall.
“Shut up, Curtis!” You yell back at him.
“I love you babe, you’re doing-“
“Yeah yeah love you too.” You say.
The doctor chuckles, amused. “Well, I’m thinking two more pushes and were gonna have a baby.”
“Well it’s about fuckin time.” You groan.
Another contraction. You push.
“Ok, keep pushing.” The doctor says. You scrunch your face from the pain. You squeeze Ponyboy’s hand even harder than you were before.
All of a sudden, a baby cries.
“Dad, why does Jesus have a scary beard?” My eight year old Rhett whispers.
“I don’t know…Maybe they couldn’t shave back then.” I whisper back.
“Oh,” he nods. It seemed to make sense to him.
Twelve year old Scarlett looked over at us, trying to see what all the whispering was about. I waved my hand at her to tell her it wasn’t important.
Charlie had crawled into my lap halfway through the sermon. He was five now, but still my little man. He was half asleep by now.
(Y/N) was at home, on bed rest. Ella or Robert could be born any day now. I would be a dad to four. That would be scary. Horrifying.
But I was happy.
“You alright, babe?” He asks. You were lying on your stomach on top of him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You say.
He strokes his hair. “You know, this could be us every night.”
“Yeah but we’d have kids, so it would be weird and awkward to do this every night. What if they had bad dreams or something?” You say.
“Ok, well then every other night.” He grins.
“That might work.” You laugh.
“By the looks of it, we’ll have lots of little kids on our hands.” He winks.