Unspoken Oneshots

They See Me Nesting

Mitch is feeling a little sick now that he's pregnant again. Time for some Merome Clan cuddles! >< Enjoy!

*

It wasn't the soft sounds of bird song that woke Jerome up in the morning.

It wasn't the sounds of the curtains ruffled in the breeze through the open window, nor the smell of fresh brewed coffee, courtesy of the coffee machine Mitch bought them for Christmas.

Instead, he woke up to wracked sobs and retching, coming from their en suite bathroom.

He blinked blearily, shaking off the last tendrils of sleep, sitting up and peering around the dim room, brain beginning to function as close to normal as he could get at... two thirty three am.

His ears pricked up as another round of heaves were heard from outside the bedroom, and he sighed, tossing the covers off and stumbling out of bed, grabbing a pair of boxers and slipping them on as he headed to the bathroom.

Since Mitch had discovered he was pregnant for the third time, almost three weeks ago, he'd been having terrible morning sickness, much worse than his past two pregnancies. It was as if the baby wanted its dad to suffer.

Jerome pulled the doorknob, peeking his head around to see his mate slumped in front of the toilet bowl, knuckles white as he clutched it hard, tears streaking his flushed face and snot blotting his nose, eyes rimmed red and raw.

He sighed quietly as Mitch coughed, sniffling as he tried to control his breathing, tamping down the nausea his could feel rising in his gut.

"Baby, do you need me to call in at work for you? I don't think you should go in today." he pushed gently, padding over to Mitch and squatting down next to him, slipping a hand under his night shirt and rubbing his tummy gently, as if that would take away his pain.

Mitch spat into the toilet, grimacing, before nodding, hanging his head in defeat. He only worked part time at the publishers office, but he hated calling in sick - his sister called it his fragile male ego, Jerome called it being a stubborn little git.

Smiling in sympathy, Jerome pressed a quick kiss to his temple, standing up and walking to the sink, drawing a glass of water for his mate as Mitch cleaned up, wiping his mouth and flushing the toilet.

He made his way over to Jerome, who was fumbling in the cabinet for some mouthwash and ibuprofen, and tucked himself under his mates chin, clinging to his front like a baby koala.

He sighed, burying his face in Jerome's fur, smiling as the thick brown tufts tickled his cheek and nose.

"Freaking teddy bear." he mumbled, nuzzling closer. Jerome rolled his eyes, fighting a preening grin, making a sound of triumph as he pulled out what he was looking for.

"Mitchy, turn around if you want to get that sick taste out of your mouth." he hummed, pouring out a capful of the blindingly strong mouthwash, that tasted more like kerosene than Listerine. Still, better than vomit, he supposed.

Mitch huffed indignantly, turning around still wedged in between Jerome's arms, taking the cap and throwing it back, swilling it around his mouth, wincing a little at the strong taste, spitting into the sink with a sigh.

"M' still feelin' shitty." the Canadian mumbled, looking over himself groggily in the mirror. He was pale and bedraggled, dark circles under his eyes and had an ashy grey completion. Yep, definitely pregnant.

Jerome smiled softly, wrapping an arm around his mates waist, hand resting over where the bump would be when he was further along.

"Well then I think it's called for a nest nap. Did you finish putting the pillows down the other day?" Jerome chuckled, swaying Mitch gently, chin now resting on top of his head. Mitch hummed, sinking into Jerome's embrace. As stubborn as he was, he was never one to turn down the chance to cuddle with his mate.