Maybe, baby
18/5/11 11:24![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ktfeWho: Kay and Aaron
Where: Old!Home
When: Cassie's two and a half, and they've settled in tidily to the parenting routine. Not much has been done yet on their long-term, supernatural goals.
Cassie's first year, she had demanded all of their attention. That had been a mixed blessing; she had left her parents little time to dwell on the events before her birth, had stridently and at length assured them -- through baby wails and eventually laughs -- that everything had turned out if not for the best, then at least well.
During that first year Kay and Aaron had snatched intimacy when they could. They had been meticulous about birth control, a little overwhelmed by one baby (as so many new parents are) much less two. But Cassie had hit birthday #1, had been weaned, had begun to say words -- in every way stopped being an infant, started turning into a tiny person.
It had begun to feel less like having another would be a disaster, and more like it would be a reasonable progression of events. Neither of them, after all, had said anything about stopping at just one. They'd both gotten less stringent about the enforcement of condoms.
When the inevitable occurred, it was a Tuesday morning in that gentle lull period before they had to be out of bed. Even Kay had gotten into the habit of waking up a little bit before Cassie would demand breakfast and playtime. Aaron would be just waking up too.
The redhead had checked in with her body, first thing on waking -- another habit she'd gotten into at certain times of month. Now she rolled over, casting an arm over Aaron, nuzzling her still squint-eyed face into his neck.
"Morning," she mumbled, grinning against him. "I'm pregnant."
Where: Old!Home
When: Cassie's two and a half, and they've settled in tidily to the parenting routine. Not much has been done yet on their long-term, supernatural goals.
Cassie's first year, she had demanded all of their attention. That had been a mixed blessing; she had left her parents little time to dwell on the events before her birth, had stridently and at length assured them -- through baby wails and eventually laughs -- that everything had turned out if not for the best, then at least well.
During that first year Kay and Aaron had snatched intimacy when they could. They had been meticulous about birth control, a little overwhelmed by one baby (as so many new parents are) much less two. But Cassie had hit birthday #1, had been weaned, had begun to say words -- in every way stopped being an infant, started turning into a tiny person.
It had begun to feel less like having another would be a disaster, and more like it would be a reasonable progression of events. Neither of them, after all, had said anything about stopping at just one. They'd both gotten less stringent about the enforcement of condoms.
When the inevitable occurred, it was a Tuesday morning in that gentle lull period before they had to be out of bed. Even Kay had gotten into the habit of waking up a little bit before Cassie would demand breakfast and playtime. Aaron would be just waking up too.
The redhead had checked in with her body, first thing on waking -- another habit she'd gotten into at certain times of month. Now she rolled over, casting an arm over Aaron, nuzzling her still squint-eyed face into his neck.
"Morning," she mumbled, grinning against him. "I'm pregnant."
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