(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

The contractions are regular, now. Regular, and steady, and growing stronger. She keeps giving Bernard feeble smiles, as she paces the floor, trying to stay limber and move around while she still can.

One imagines the kettle will be going fairly constantly for the people ensconced in the living room.

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard is... well, freaking out isn't quite the right term.

Yes, it is.

He's pacing, too, cracking his knuckles, which he does not do, and biting a nail, which he again does not do.

"How long does it generally take for the water to break?"

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

Out in the living room, Kathleen Wrangle knocks back the last of her coffee.

With whiskey in, of course.

It's gonna be a long afternoon, evening, and most likely morning, and she's not entirely sure she wants to be sober for any of it.

[a-black-sheep.livejournal.com]

...My daughter's gone into labour, she'd told her lunch appointment, sitting across the table in Florian Fortescue's and blinking curiously at the owl perched on Andromeda's chair.

Excuse me - excuse me, she'd muttered, elbowing her way in a most unladylike fashion through the crowds in the Leaky Cauldron. Excuse me, my daughter's gone into labour.

Quick as you like, she'd told the taxi smartly, on their way to pick up Ted. My grandson's being born.



Andromeda's heel taptaptaps on the floorboards of the Tonks-Wrangle living room, as she sits on the edge of the couch, and smiles nervously at her husband.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael hasn't stopped moving.

The kettle has also not stopped boiling, because Aziraphael has certain ideas, regarding child birth, lodged quite firmly in his head. The need for boiled water is prominent; he suspects it could well be for the amounts of calming tea that are necessary.

Besides, wandering back and forth from the kitchen at least means he has an aim, in mind, and isn't pacing. Pacing is Bernard's job. He's just... being useful.

And looking, every now and again, at the watch that he still hasn't got used to around his left wrist, fretting about how long the flight takes from Iraq.

[ididntnameher.livejournal.com]

Who is chewing nervously on a cigar.

It'll be no good for smoking by the time he's done with it, but it's not as though he likes the taste. It's just traditional. Traditional like leaving the fretting to the women, and being solid and loud, and making jokes, and he's trying, alright? He'll get to the jokes once he's managed to accept the fact that his baby girl is having a baby boy.

Something about this seems very wrong, to Ted.

And, at the same time, just about the best thing that's ever happened.

He holds on tight to Andromeda's hand, and smiles back, and after this long he doesn't need to - because she knows his expressions, and the fact that he's Definitely Not Worried, and precisely how necessary it is that she doesn't pull her hand away just yet, thanks - he doesn't need to tell her he loves her because it's there.

Even if she is a grandma, near enough.

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

And drinks are plunked into their hands.

...Liberally watered drinks, because it's gonna be a long haul, but drinks nonetheless.

"...How long do these things take, generally?"

[simon_doctor]

"It varies." Simon's voice is very calm. He's scrubbed his hands, and put on sterile gloves, and is standing near the wall giving the general impression of a Man Who Knows What He's Doing.

"By this stage I would guess ... fairly soon."

[clumsy_auror]

All of a sudden she pauses, a very odd look on her face.

"Or, um. Right now."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard's eyes go huge and for one wild moment, all he can think is, well, there goes that carpet.

"Um. I'll get a mop?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Evanesco," she says distractedly, waving vaguely at the floor, and then pales. "Um. Okay. Um. Yes. Ow ow ow ow ow."

[a-black-sheep.livejournal.com]

A grateful sip, and she starts to answer, before doing the tiniest of doubletakes and blinking up at Kathleen suspiciously.

"...You haven't any idea, yourself?"

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

"Well--" She waves a hand vaguely. "I mean, I have friends who've given birth, but." Some blinking. "Bernard's adopted. Didn't you know?"

[ididntnameher.livejournal.com]

"In this family, most days, it seems like you're supposed to pick up that sort of thing by osmosis."

Ted grins, and raises a glass to her.

"Cheers, love."

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

"Had a feeling we were gonna need it." A grin. "Thanks to that demon, my son's personal bar's never been better-stocked."

Yep. She's been nosy. Mothers are like that.

[a-black-sheep.livejournal.com]

A small grin of agreement, as she rotates her glass in her hands.

"Whatever else he may be or do - and I'm really not sure I want to know - I can't fault him for his taste in drinks."

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

"I have never asked."

[ididntnameher.livejournal.com]

"That's probably for the best."

Ted starts fishing soggy tobacco out of his mouth, and gives up on the cigar as a bad job.

"Because the buried bodies're probably not really metaphorical."

[a-black-sheep.livejournal.com]

Of course, 'Dora's angel friend - whom Andromeda is certain is involved with Crowley, though nothing has ever explicitly been said, as such - would choose that moment to wander back in from the kitchen, sipping agitatedly at a cup of tea.

Perhaps this explains the sudden pressure of a rather pointy heel on Ted's foot.

[young_tmriddle]

Tom received the owl with the news and dropped everything to hurry up to the flat and wait.

He enters the room nodding his head to the two sets of parents - with whom he'd exchanged pleasantries at the wedding, but never actually spoke to. He dearly hopes Andromeda and Ted don't mind his presence overly much because he's not leaving.

"Hullo."

He looks around the flat. Aziraphael sounds like he's in the kitchen. There's no sign of Crowley.

Temple and Arch, I hope there's tea soon.

Tom stands rather awkwardly in a corner, feeling most out of place, but he's not about to leave. Not when 'Dora might need him. For what, he's not certain (and he doesn't really want to think about the possibilities, actually) but he is here.

[simon_doctor]

"All right," and Simon's at her side, steadying her against the contraction and moving her towards the bed. "All right, good. You're probably close to fully dilated by now; let's have a look."

Calm. Calm calm calm.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora holds tight to his hand, breathing through the contraction.

When it eases, she lets Simon help her onto the bed, and lies back.

Her free hand fumbles for her husband's.

This just got all kinds of scary and real.

[young_tmriddle]

Tom pokes his head in the kitchen.

Hullo, Aziraphael. Good to see you. Is there tea?

He's not sure why he's whispering. It just seems the thing to do.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

They get her situated, and Bernard climbs up beside her, the carpet forgotten.

Another contraction comes, she squeezes, and, "Shit!"

His hand pops and creaks, but nothing breaks. Yet.

[platonicowgirl.livejournal.com]

The young man's uncertainty and awkwardness can be cut with a knife, so, not long after he arrives, Kathleen walks over with a scotch in hand.

"Here, kiddo."

[young_tmriddle]

"Why, thank you. I needed that. You're Kathleen, as I recall. We met at the wedding, briefly."