"Pregnancy Hormones"

Requested by XXWOLFXX73

*

It was hot. It was humid. The chair was uncomfortable. The sun was blinding through the windows. And I was seven months pregnant to top it off, so I also needed to go to the bathroom but couldn't get up and risk disturbing the scene being filmed in front of me.

Like Sebastian, I was an actor. Also like Sebastian, I had worked on project after project with little to no breaks in between. Until, that is, my baby bump got too big. When clever angles, sneaky wardrobes, and creatively placed props couldn't hide my growing belly anymore the series I had been acting in wrote my character out with little room for a return, and I started traveling with Seb while he wrapped up his last few obligations before my due date arrived. Planes and hotel rooms hadn't been friendly to my swollen ankles or aching back, but being able to spend more than a long weekend with Seb made the travel worth it.

"Cut!" the director called out. I released the breath I'd been holding and heaved myself out of the chair I'd claimed. The set, the interior of a diner, became a crowded hive of activity in a split second. Cameramen inspected their equipment. Sound techs lowered the boom mics. Hair and make-up swarmed Seb and Nicole to do touch-ups. The rest of the crew and extras went through the motions of resetting everything back to start. The constant moving and sheer number of people present made it nearly impossible for me to waddle to the on-set bathroom.

Which was, of course, occupied.

"Hey, pregnant lady really needs to pee out here," I said, knocking gently on the door. I was more than willing to use the pregnancy card when my unborn child was tap-dancing on my bladder.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a minute," the person inside replied. So I waited a minute. Rubbing circles on my belly and feeling the baby push against my hand. Seb and I had decided to wait until I delivered to find out whether the baby was a boy or girl, but my money was on a boy.

"Hey, minute's up, pal," I said after counting sixty slow seconds. I glanced out at the main room of the diner. A cameraman was glaring at his camera and discussing something with the director with a frustrated look on his face.

Past the cameras and microphones, I could see Seb and Nicole. They had both stood up from their respective sides of the diner booth, and they were standing close to one another. That didn't bother me; it was crowded. What did bother me was the way Nicole kept laying her hand on his arm and trailing it down from his shoulder to his wrist. Smiling and laughing like the best of friends, the way Seb and I used to smile and laugh before I was constantly too tired from growing a whole new person.

Damn these pregnancy hormones, I thought to myself.

I knew Nicole and Sebastian, and I knew them well enough to know they weren't flirting with each other and never would. And yet, there I stood: practically seething with jealousy and ready to break down the bathroom door if whoever was inside didn't hurry up.

~

I left the set a few minutes after finishing up in the bathroom. I sent Seb a text, telling him that I was tired and going back to the hotel for nap, instead of interrupting him. True to my word, I did go back to our shared hotel room, stripped down and redressed in one of Seb's t-shirts, and promptly took a nap.

And I happily slept until Seb unlocked the hotel room door and quietly sunk onto the bed a few minutes later. When I opened my eyes his head was even with my partially exposed belly, and he was laying a hand over my bellybutton.

"Did she finally slow down enough to let you take a nap?" he asked. "I know you always say she's most active after lunch."

"He did slow down actually," I replied, putting extra emphasis on the pronoun. Sebastian and I were not on the same page when it came to what we thought the baby would be.

"I'm glad you got some rest," he told me. And just like that, the little gymnast in my belly seemed to wake up and start stretching again. Seb watched as a stubborn little hand or foot reached out and pushed against my skin. "I will admit, that's just the slightest bit creepy though."

"It doesn't feel too great," I admitted. I rolled off my side and onto my back. I'd been dealing with the baby's calisthenics for several weeks, and laying on my back seemed to help. "I can't imagine how he'll be able to keep this up when he's any bigger. I feel like a manatee, and I'm only seven months."

"Cutest damn manatee I ever saw," Seb whispered. He kissed the side of my belly before scooting up the bed and kissing my shoulder and cheek. "And you'll still be cute when you're even more pregnant."

"Will you still love me after a day of labor and when I threaten to never have sex with you ever again?" I asked. The pregnancy hormones were back at it, this time with fits of self-doubt and a constant need for reassurance instead of misplaced jealousy and anger.

"I loved you when you were throwing up every half hour, and I loved you when you cried over how few green gummy bears there were in the package I bought for you. I loved you when you threw a highlighter at me when I was learning lines, and I love you right now when you're wearing the shirt I wanted to wear," he listed off. "Of course I'll still love you after you've gone through a day's worth of labor and are threatening me with no sex."

"That's good," I said. "Considering the fact that I've loved you through all the questionable haircuts and moustaches you've been through the last few years."

Since we'd been dating, Seb had gone through Bucky's long hair and scruff, Jeff Gilooly's moustache, the blonde hair from I'm Not Here, and now the buzzcut and beard for Destroyer. I'd seen plenty of unique styles and never let him forget the most memorable of them.

"Personally, I miss your long hair," I told him, and I reached out to rub my hand across his buzzcut playfully. He chuckled softly and made kissy faces in the general direction of my hand as I played with what little hair he'd been left with. "I can't wait for you to wrap up this film."

"What else is going on in that head of yours?" he asked. He hadn't moved far enough up the bed to be able to look me square in the eye; instead he had to tilt up his chin and look up at me. "I didn't recognize the look on your face all day."

"I don't make faces, Mr. Stan," I corrected.

"Oh yes you do," he objected. "There's the 'where the hell is craft services face'." He paused to make a face that vaguely resembled hunger but could easily be mistaken for constipation. "And the 'I want to rip his clothes off' face." Next came something along the lines of homicidal psycho killer. "And my personal favorite: the 'how did I get so lucky' face."

Last but not least he pulled a face that looked like a love struck and possibly drunk high school senior.

"Blame the pregnancy hormones for today's face," I explained. He could read me like a book, obviously. There was no point in even trying to hide my feelings from him, so I continued. "I've been feeling a little extra manatee-ish. A little not sexy. Not on par with the women you so often work with. And Nicole is so gorgeous and so not pregnant. It's hard to rein in some of my hormone addled thoughts."

In the time it took for Seb to reposition himself at the head of the bed and start stroking my hair, I was starting to cry and he was trying to soothe me.

"Why am I such a blubbering mess? How much longer do I have to be pregnant and deal with emotions?" I groaned. "I'm so sick of emotions."

"You aren't a blubbering mess. You're just pregnant. And you won't be pregnant that much longer," Seb reminded me patiently. Roughly every other day or so we had a version of this conversation. He had long since learned his lines. "Soon you'll have our little girl-"

"Little boy," I cut in with a sniffle.

"Our little baby to get emotional over. You know I'll be crying too. Then you'll see what a real blubbering mess looks like," he assured me. "Would room service make you feel better? Some of those snickerdoodle cookies you had a few nights ago?"

"Snickerdoodles make everything better."

*

Author's Note:

I couldn't think of a clever title for this one, and I just kept adding more and more to it so the finished thing turned out quite a bit longer than I had expected.

If anyone has title suggestions, feel free to drop them in the comments. Impress me with your title and leave a prompt and I'll put your request at the top of my list next time an update rolls around!