flybywash | (no subject)

(no subject)

Keane and Phoebe's guest room -- which Annie matter-of-factly gave up in favor of the sofa, claiming she'd "take it back when I've got a kid thumping around inside me, too" -- is a good deal more spacious than Wash and Zoe's bunk, but with a bed that's just a little too narrow to sleep two people comfortably.

Wash isn't really noticing this right now. For one thing, he's fast asleep.

For another, the bed feels just fine when it's missing its other occupant.

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"Shiny. Zài-jiàn."

He disconnects the call and bolts back to the guest bedroom. Not finding Zoe there, he spins around and stumbles back out, almost colliding with Anneliese.

"Bathroom," she says without preamble, pointing in its direction.

"Thanks -- " He steadies himself and hobbles over to it. "Zoe?"

Zoe's sitting down, mostly just concentrating on breathing. No more contractions yet.

She looks up, and smiles a bit shakily.

"Hey. You get hold of Simon?"

"Yeah, he's awake and getting everything ready in the infirmary, should be all set up by the time we get there."

Carefully, he eases into a crouch in front of her, one hand settled on her knee.

"How're you doing?"

Zoe lays a hand over his, her smile growing a bit.

"Not bad. Not thinkin' I'll miss all this too bad when it's over, though."

He smiles and turns his hand palm-up to give hers a reassuring squeeze. Whether it's to reassure himself or Zoe...well, it's probably six of one, half dozen of the other.

"It'll be fine." With his other hand, he reaches up and gently cups her cheek. "You've got that crazy and really, really amazingly attractive strength going for you, which is more than...pretty much every other woman out there's got." A grin. "I know you'll do great. And it'll -- "

He's about to say only last for half a day, but this is not the time to be calling down jinxes on Zoe's pregnancy, so he hurriedly changes the subject.

" -- anyway, Dad's got the hover running and Mom's looking for something to time the painful bits with and I, uh..." A sheepish glance down at his bare chest. "Should probably put on a shirt before we all go charging back to the docks, huh."

Zoe laughs at that, a bit breathlessly.

"That might be a good plan."

"Okay."

Dramatically, he flings an arm in the direction of the bedroom and intones, "To the suitcase!"

And then he hauls himself to his feet (using the sink for support) and rests a hand on Zoe's back to help her up.

With the deep, even breaths he's making himself take, you'd think he was the one going into labor.

Oh, if there's one thing Zoe's clear on, here, it's which one of them's in labor.

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, moving carefully, leaning on Wash a bit.

It's the work of moments to throw on a shirt, button it enough to cover most of his chest, then grab his cane as --

"Hoban -- "

Phoebe sticks her head in and lobs a small, spherical clock in his direction. Wash catches it effortlessly as she adds, "Your father has the hover warmed up; are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, he told me." He stuffs the clock in his pocket. "And yeah, I think we are."

He looks at Zoe for confirmation.

Zoe nods.

"Shi a. Let's get a move on."

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