I Might Be Holding Your Hand, but I'm Holding It Loose.

"This one," he offered, holding out a tin of fluorescent pink paint, adorning a wide grin in the hope it would convince Emma to see his side.
"Bren, we don't know if it's going to be a girl or a boy yet. We're not painting the rooms pink." she smirked, chuckling softly as she took the tin from his grip, putting it back on the shelf.

Emma was in the middle of her second trimester, and so far, touch wood, everything had been surprisingly fine. Their child was healthy, their relationship was even more than healthy and Brendon had finally finished with the album, meaning he could spend as much time together as the twenty-four hour day would allow them. The only issue was where they were going to stay - and it was something neither of them could come to an agreement on; so both places were having a room designated for their new arrival. They'd share just the one place soon, but only he knew that.

"Black?" he smiled, extending his arms, in his grasp a black tin.
"Isn't that a bit depressive? New baby; new life. Not something you'd exactly associate black with,"
"It could be like some cool oxymoron. All deep and shit. Indie baby!" he chuckled.
"It might be quite cute if we had planets on the ceiling, and little night lights. Something like that, yeah," she smiled softly, warming to the idea.
He gasped over-dramatically. "You're agreeing with me?"
"It would appear that way, wouldn't it," she said, kissing his nose, giggling as he slid his arm around her shoulders. "Mm, but you'd never catch me admitting it."
"Oh but of course, we couldn't have that." he smirked.

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-

"Push!" she shouted, gripping his hand as he squeezed hers so tightly her hand became sheet white with slight traces of color. He grimaced and grunted and growled and gurgled. His teeth clenched and head tilted back into the pillow, yelping out in agony, singing an extraordinarily high falsetto as a great sense of relief washed over him.

"Mr. Urie, congratulations!" she laughed lightly, placing a bag of flour with a cream blanket wrapped around the bottom half and a Sharpie face drawn on, complete with French mustache.
"It's a boy!" he chuckled along. "Do you think that was convincing?"
"Dude, I'm pretty sure once the baby is out, you don't sing,"
"Have you ever given birth before?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow.
"No, but-"
"Therefore your argument is invalid. I have given birth, so I know what it's like. Painful as fuck," he nodded, spluttering as a pillow was sent hurtling at his sweaty face.
"No fucking swearing! We've gotta cut down for the baby, you piece of shit," she chuckled, jumping on to the bed, then on to him.
"Don't call me a piece of shit, you bitch!" he laughed.
"Bastard,"
"Slut,"
"Cock-sucker!"
"Oh, that was uncalled for." he pouted, poking at her skinny arm with his gun finger. "I'll have you know I haven't sucked a cock for six months, thank you. You, on the other hand... what's it been, a few days, maybe?"
"Your cock doesn't count, B. You're despicable, making a pregnant woman blow you. You should be ashamed of yourself,"
"I'm deeply ashamed, Em. It'll affect me for the rest of my life - you know I'll never be able to get over it," he sighed heavily, trailing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Maybe I should return the favor, would that rid me of this guilt, m'am?"
"Most definitely."
He laughed, sitting up, scooping her into his arms as he did so. "Nice try, bitch."

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-

"Hey," he whispered in her ear, stroking down her bare side as they lay close together, sheets pulled over their heads and a wind up torch providing the only source of light. Shadows caressed every inch of their tired faces and it was a battle to the death.

"You cheated!" she squeal-whispered as he pressed his lips to hers softly in the middle of their thumb-war. "You can't distract me like that,"
"You shouldn't get distracted so easily then, should you," he grinned.
"You're so God damned full of it," she scowled.
"I'll let you win the next one."
"You know it's best of twenty-one, and you're already eleven up. I've got no chance. It's statistically proven pregnant women have slower reflexes,"
"Bullshit," he laughed, pulling her close in a hug, stroking over her bump, rubbing his thumb in circles around her stretched navel.
"I hate you." she growled into his chest.
"Mm, hate you too beautiful. Hate you too."

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-

"Where's the fucking coffee Brendon? What did you do with my coffee?" she shouted from the kitchen, grouchy and in pain, more strain on her back than she had ever wished for or anticipated.
"Don't get mad," he said softly, slowly inching forward. "But I hid it."
"And why the fuck did you do that?" she growled.
"I told you not to get mad!" he squealed in defense, kissing her forehead and holding her hands out in front of them. "You were having a lot of caffeine, and it couldn't have been good for the baby. So until Baby is out, no more coffee."
"You're unbelievable," she whispered under her breath. "I can't function without it. Have you seen me recently? I'm a fucking mess. My eyes are sunken and I'm in a state of unbearable pain. I'm fat and I'm ugly and my hormones are making me want to throw everything around the room and terrorize the city. I want to punch your stupid face and scream at you for making me feel like this. What kind of sick bastard enforces this on to someone?"
"Hey." he cooed, kissing her forehead again.
"Don't patronize me, you piece of coffee-hiding shit,"
"Mm, not patronizing you, promise. I'll make you some coffee. You go back to bed. There are new sheets on the bed, your pajamas are on the radiator, I've lit a few candles and I've set up Inception on the player. Okay?"
She sighed heavily. "Okay. Don't think this gets you off the hook, though,"
"I wouldn't dare," he smiled, kissing her hand, still wearing his smile as she waddled in to the bedroom. He grabbed a carton of chocolate ice-cream from the freezer, along with two spoons, then joined Emma, slipping in to the bed next to her. She sunk down in to covers, resting her head on his chest.

"I love you," she yawned, humming happily as he fed her some ice-cream.
He couldn't help but laugh. She really was a character. "I love you too, Em."
"Why do you put up with all my shit?" she asked, staring up at him with wide eyes.
"Someone has to," he smirked. "I don't 'put up' with your ass. That makes it sound like a chore. Besides, I need my best friend around me, even if she is heavily pregnant with my demon child."
"You're such a freak," she smiled, getting comfortable again.
"Yeah, you're beautiful too." he chuckled, spooning another scoop into her mouth.
"And you forgot my coffee."

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-

"Oh my God, I want little booties like this. Do you think they do booties in adult sizes?" he squealed.
She giggled. "I love having a half gay boyfriend."
He frowned. "I was being serious! Anyway, people never believe us when you tell them I'm the father. Am I not allowed to express myself?" he pouted as he skipped around their shopping cart.
"Not in public, no." she chuckled.
"It's the twenty-first century darling, it's all the rage to be-"
"Brendon,," she panted, gripping at his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric. "Either I just suddenly became incontinent, or my waters just broke."